Napoleon

EX LIBRIS

H. B. MAPI-ETON, M.D.

NAPOLEON.

NAPOLEON

T. P. O'CONNOR,
' t

AUTHOR OF " SOME OLD LOVE STORIES.

LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, LD.

1896.

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:.:.:•::»/:/•'•*>•

F. M. EVANS AND CO., LIMITED, PRINTERS,
CRYSTAL PALACB, S.E.

PREFACE.

I HAVE thought of various methods for presenting
these Essays in a collected form. The first and
most natural suggestion was that I should, after
a careful comparison of their conflicting points
of view, and an assortment of their statements,
present to the reader a final estimate and a
finished picture. I found it impossible to adopt
this course. Napoleon had so many sides ; was
not only so contradictory in himself, but pro-
duced such contradictory impressions on different
people, that it lay far beyond my power to make
one consistent picture of him, and to decide with
anything like confidence between testimony at
once so contradictory and so authoritative. The
plan to which I have been driven, then, is to
present these Essays pretty much as they origi-
nally appeared — which means that I have made

848219

vi Preface.

myself the interpreter, and not the judge, of the
witnesses and of the evidence. I am conscious
of the disadvantages of such a plan ; but, on the
other hand, it has its compensations. The reader
will have ample material for forming his own
judgment : Napoleon, too, will be presented in
his vast many-sidedness ; and finally, there will
probably be in the reader's mind, after hearing
all these conflicting voices, a nearer approach to
a just and accurate estimate of Napoleon than
if he had read any one set of witnesses, or if
he had been confronted with a self-confident
judgment on the final merits of the evidence.
No human character is mathematical in its lines ;
and historical characters especially are much less
consistent, either in their goodness or their bad-
ness, than their admirers and their foes represent.
The final picture of Napoleon which these Essays
will leave in the minds of the reader will, I expect,
be somewhat blurred, inconsistent — perhaps even
chaotic. The picture, perhaps, will be for all
this the nearer to reality.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

PAGE

TAINE'S PORTRAIT I

I. Napoleon an Italian I

II. His Italian temperament .... 3

in. In deshabille 6

IV. His Italian loquacity 8

v. And his sensibility 9

vi. His moments of cowardice . . . .11

vii. Napoleon's family 14

Viil. Napoleon's beginnings 17

ix. His power of command .... 20

x. An early portrait 22

XI. His power of work ..... 24

XII. The power of taking pains .... 26

xiil. His mastery of detail 28

xiv. His grasp of character 32

xv. What his memory held . . . v . • 35

xvi. His imaginativeness . . . . .38

xvn. Dreams of a new religion .... 40

xvni. His Court -43

XIX. His rudeness 47

xx. His aggressiveness 49

XXI. His treatment of his Ministers ... 50

xxn. The dependence of the Marshals ... 52

xxill. His hatred of independence 54

xxiv. His estimate of humanity 57

xxv. His judgments on himself .... 60

xxvi. The causes of his fall . . . . .62

xxvil. The instability of his rule .... 64

xxvin. His obstinate egotism ..... 66

viii Contents.

CHAPTER II.

PAGE

THE ESTIMATE OF A WORSHIPPER .... 70

I. Meneval 70

II. A hero worshipper 72

in. Napoleon appears 73

iv. Meneval starts work 75

v. First dictation 77

vi. A portrait of Napoleon 79

vu. Napoleon at table 82

viii. Life at Malmaison 83

ix. Josephine's occupations . . . -85

x. Meneval charmed 87

XL The shadow of a crime . . . . .88

XII. Napoleon's power of work . . , . .89

xin. Napoleon in his study . . . .92

xiv. Napoleon as a man of letters 93

XV. Napoleon's orthography .... 95

xvi. Lapses -97

xvn. Was Napoleon superstitious ? . . .98

xviii. Curious characteristics 100

xix. Daily habits 102

XX. Napoleon in the field 104

xxi. The descent begun 107

xxn. Napoleon's forlorn young heir . . . 109
xxin. A doomed man in

CHAPTER III.

THE ESTIMATE OF AN OFFICIAL . . . . . 113

I. The Pasquier dynasty 113

n. The old regime . . . . . .114

in. Paris before the storm . . . . 117

iv. The taking of the Bastille . . . .119

V. The Girondists . . . . . .120

vi. The advance of the storm . . . .121

vu. A narrow escape . . . . . .123

viii. A terrible plan 125

Contents. ix

PAGE

IX. The death of the King . . . . . 125

x. The Reign of Terror 127

XT. Another narrow escape 129

xn. A rescuing angel 132

xin. Still the Reign of Terror . . . .134

XIV. A prison scene 137

XV. A prison terrorist 139

xvi. Napoleon ....... 141

xvn. The return from Egypt 142

xvin. Napoleon's moment of fear . . . .144

XIX. Talleyrand 145

XX. Talleyrand's treachery 146

XXI. Humiliation of Germany .... 148

XXII. The Talleyrand intrigue . . . .150

xxiii. Napoleon in a passion . . . . . 152

xxiv. A curious Bonaparte trait . . . .154

xxv. The female Bonapartes 156

CHAPTER IV.

AS NAPOLEON APPEARED TO A RELATIVE . . .159

I. About the Bastille 160

II. The hanging of Foulon . . . .162

ill. " To Paris " . . . . . . .164

IV. Paris during the massacre . . . .166

v. How a village was affected by the overturn . 168

VI. A first view of Napoleon . . . .171

VH. Napoleon and Josephine .... 172

VHI. Labours and fatigues . . . . .173

ix. The return from Elba 175

x. A changed France 177

XI. Waterloo 179

CHAPTER V.

Nj NAPOLEON, AS HE APPEARED TO A SOLDIER . . 1 82

I. Glimpses of the Terror 184

II. The Revolution in the school . . . 187

A*

Contents.

PAGE

in. First sight of Napoleon . . . .189
IV. Napoleon often deceived .... 195
v. Napoleon's diplomatic methods . . . 200

vi. Austerlitz 203

vii. The path of glory ...... 207

VHI. Napoleon and his troops .... 208

ix. The rise of the house of Rothschild . . 209
x. Napoleon and Queen Louise . . ' .212

XL Napoleon wounded 213

xn. Napoleon and the Grenadier . . . 215

xiii. Detection of a spy 217

xtv. Napoleon as Haroun-al-Raschid . . .219
xv. Marbot in a tight place .... 222

xvi. The end of the adventure .... 226

xvn. After Moscow ...... 229

xvin. The blood tax . . . . . . 230

xix. The defeat at Leipsic 233

xx. Napoleon as a friend 234

CHAPTER VI.

NAPOLEON'S CHIEF DETRACTOR 237

I. Nearly a great man 238

II. Barras and Robespierre — a contrast . . 239

in. The Incorruptible at home .... 240

IV. A memorable interview .... 243

v. Danton 246

vi. Robespierre's lust for blood . . . .248

vii. Fouquier-Tinville 249

viii. Two notorious women 254

IX. The symmetry of Barras's villainy . . 257

x. Two portraits— Barras and Robespierre . 258

xi. Napoleon and Josephine .... 260

XII. Josephine's tears 264

xiii. Her story to Napoleon . . . . 268
xiv. Barras's most deadly charge . . .272

Contents. xi

CHAPTER VII.

PAGE

JOSEPHINE . .275

I. Early years . . . . . . . 280

II. In the Artillery 283

in. Early poverty 285

IV. A youthful cynic . . . . . .288

v. Flight from Corsica 291

vi. A first chance 294

vii. He . 298

vin. She 299

IX. Bonaparte knocks 300

x. The room .301

XI. Enter Josephine 302

xii. The fascination begins 303

xill. In the toils 305

xiv. Venial mendacities 307

XV. Dithyrambic love 310

XVI. Suspicion . . . . . . 312

xvil. Frivolous Josephine 313

xvm. The first quarrels 317

xix. Hippolyte Charles 322

xx. In Egypt 323

xxi. Hopeless Josephine 331

XXH. Napoleon's infidelities 333

xxni. Madame Walewska 335

xxiv. The divorce 338

xxv. After the divorce 342

CHAPTER VIII.

MARIE LOUISE 344

I. The Corsican ogre . 344

II. The rearing of Marie Louise . . . 347

III. Iphigenia ....... 350

IV. Everlasting peace 351

v. The bridegroom 354

vi. As a Western odalisque . . . -355

xii Contents.

PAGE

vii. The gilded cage . . . . . -357

vili. The Nemesis of nature 359

ix. The first meeting .361

x. An escapade 363

XI. A portrait 366

xn. Self-distrust 368

xin. Napoleon's foibles 369

XIV. Household changes 371

xv. Horseplay 373

xvi. Delicacy 375

xvn. A son 377

xvm. Napoleon as a father 378

xix. Marie Louise's treason 379

xx. Neipperg 380

xxi. II Serenissimo . . . . .381

CHAPTER IX.

"NAPOLEON'S LAST VOYAGES 384

I. An adventurous enterprise .... 384

II. Marseilles after the abdication . . . 387

in. The fallen Emperor 389

IV. Departure for Elba 391

v. Napoleon's powers of observation . . 393

vi. Ruler of Elba 394

vn. The voyage to St. Helena .... 397

viii. A caged lion 398

ix. Life in St. Helena . . . . . .401

x. Napoleon's selfishness 402

CHAPTER X.

A FINAL PICTURE 405

I. Waterloo 406

ii. The battle 408

in. Napoleon . 410

iv. Napoleon in retreat 414

NAPOLEONS

•r : : >

CHAPTER I.

TAINE'S PORTRAIT,*

I BEGIN the series of portraits by giving that of
Taine. It is the most finished and the most
powerful. Indeed, I know scarcely any portrait
in literature in which there is more dazzling
literary skill ; but it is a portrait by an avowed
and a bitter enemy. It is too peremptory and too
consistent; above all, it is a portrait drawn by
what I may call a literary absolutist — the artist
who insists that human figures should follow the
rigidity of a philosopher's scientific rules.

NAPOLEON AN ITALIAN.

THE first point which Taine brings out is that this
mighty despot, who ruled France as she had never
been ruled before, was not even a Frenchman.
Not only in blood and in birth, but in feeling he

* "The Modern Regime." Vol. I. By H. A. Taine.
Translated by John Durand. (London : Sampson Low,
Marston, & Co.)

2 Napoleon.

was an Italian. He remained, in some respects,
an Italian all his life. In Taine's eyes, too, he is
not only an Italian, but an Italian of the Middle
Ages. "He belongs/' says Taine, "to another
raee and ' airolhcr. -epoch." And then, in a series
of wonderful passages, Taine traces back the
heritage of Napoleon to those men and those
times. " The man-plant/' says Alfieri, " is in no
country born more vigorous than in Italy," "and
never," goes on Taine, "in Italy was it so vigorous
as from 1300 to 1500, from the contemporaries of
Dante down to those of Michael Angelo, Caesar
Borgia, Julius II., and Macchiavelli." In those
times great personalities fought for crowns, money,
and life at one cast, and when they succeeded, es-
tablished a government remarkable for splendour,
order, and firmness. This was the period of great
adventurers — great in battle, great in council,
great in courage, great in imagination, great in
their love of the arts. All these qualities are
reproduced in Napoleon.

" He is," says Taine, " a posthumous brother
of Dante and Michael Angelo ; in the clear
outlines of his vision, in the intensity, coherence,
and inward logic of his reverie, in the profundity
of his meditations, in the superhuman grandeur of
his conceptions, he is, indeed, their fellow and
their equal. His genius is of the same stature
and the same structure ; he is one of the three
sovereign minds of the Italian Renaissance, only,

Taine's Portrait. 3

while the first two operated on paper and on
marble, the latter operates on the living being, on
the sensitive and suffering flesh of humanity."

ii.

HIS ITALIAN TEMPERAMENT.

ANALYSING Napoleon's temperament, Taine also
finds that it belongs to another race and another
epoch. " Three hundred years of police and of
courts of justice," "of social discipline and peaceful
habits/' "have diminished the force and violence
of the passions natural to men," but in Italy, at
the period of the Renaissance, those passions were
still intact.

" Human emotions at that time were keener
and more profound than at the present day; the
appetites were ardent and more unbridled ; man's
will was more impetuous and more tenacious ;
whatever motive inspired him, whether pride,
ambition, jealousy, hatred, love, envy, or sen-
suality, the inward spring strained with an energy
and relaxed with a violence that has now dis-
appeared. All these energies reappear in the
great survivor of the fifteenth century; in him
the play of the nervous machine is the same as
with his Italian ancestors. Never was there, even
among the Malatestas or Borgias, a more sensitive
and impulsive intellect, more capable of such
electric shocks and explosions, in which the roar

B 2

4 Napoleon.

and flashes of the tempest lasted longer, and of
which the effects were more irresistible. In his
mind no idea seems speculative and pure; none
is a simple transcript of the real, or a simple
picture of the possible ; each is an internal eruption,
which suddenly and spontaneously spends itself in
action; each darts forth to its goal, and would
reach it without stopping were it not kept back
and restrained by force."

Of this Italian explosiveness of nature, Taine
gives scores of examples. This conception of
Napoleon's character differs fundamentally from
many of our preconceived notions ; and from the
idea of himself which Napoleon was able to
convey in public and to all who did not know
him intimately during his lifetime. " The public
and the army regarded him as impassive;" in his
battles " he wears a mask of bronze ; " in " official
ceremonies he wears a necessarily dignified air;"
and in most pictures of him which I have seen,
one gets the impression of a profoundly immutable
calm. But the real Napoleon was altogether
different from this. A more sensitive, restless,
irritable nature never existed. His emotions are
so rapid that they intercept each other, and emotion
irresistibly compels immediate action.

" Impression and expression with him are
almost always confounded, the inward overflowing
in the outward, the action, like a blow, getting
the better of him."

Taine's Portrait. 5

" At Paris, towards the end of the Concordat,
he says to Senator Volney, ' France wants a
religion.' Volney replies, in a frank, sententious
way, 'France wants the Bourbons.' Whereupon
he gives Volney a kick in the stomach, and he
falls unconscious. On his being conveyed to a
friend's house he remains there ill for several days.
No man is more irritable, so soon in a passion,
and all the more because he purposely gives way
to his irritation ; for, doing this just at the right
moment, and especially before witnesses, it strikes
terror — it enables him to extort concessions and
maintain obedience ; while his explosions of anger,
half calculated, half involuntary, serve him quite
as much as they relieve him, in public as in
private, with strangers as with intimates, before
constituted bodies, with the Pope, with cardinals,
with ambassadors, with Talleyrand, with Beugnot,
with anybody that comes along, whenever he
wishes to set an example or 'keep the people
around him on the alert.' "

His unfortunate wife is one of the greatest
victims of this violence, and even at the moment
when she has most right to complain.

"At St. Cloud, caught by Josephine in an act
of gallantry, he springs after the unlucky in-
truder in such a way that she has barely time
to escape ; and, again, that evening, keeping
tip his fury, so as to put her down completely,
' he treats her in the most outrageous manner,

6 Napoleon.

smashing every piece of furniture that comes in
his way.' "

And here is another example of the way in
which he treats his Ministers.

"A little before the Empire, Talleyrand, a
great mystifier, tells Berthier that the First Consul
wanted to assume the title of king. Berthier, in
eager haste, crosses the drawing-room full of
company, accosts the master of the house, and,
with a beaming smile, ' congratulates him.' At
the word 'king' Bonaparte's eyes flash. Grasp-
ing Berthier by the throat, he pushes his head
against a wall, exclaiming, ' You fool ! Who told
you to come here and stir up my bile in this way ?
Another time don't come on such errands.' Such
is the first impulse, the instinctive action, to
pounce on people and seize them by the throat.
We divine under each sentence, and on every
page he writes, outbursts and assaults of this
description ; the physiognomy and intonation of
a man who rushes forward and knocks people
down."

in.

IN DESHABILLE.

AND then there come some striking pictures of
Napoleon in his study and his dressing-room —
where we see him in deshabille and as the natural
man. It is not a pleasant picture — indeed, the
whole impression one gets from this study of
Napoleon is brutal, revolting.

Taine's Portrait. ^

"When dictating in his cabinet he strides
up and down the room,' and 'if excited,' which
is often the case, 'his language consists of
violent imprecations and oaths, which are sup-
pressed in what is written/ But these are not
always suppressed, and those who have seen the
original minutes of his correspondence on eccle-
siastical affairs find dozens of them of the coarsest
kind. . . .

" When dressing himself, he throws on the floor
or into the fire any part of his attire which does
not suit him. . . . On gala days, and on grand
ceremonial occasions, his valets are obliged to
agree together when they shall seize the right
moment to put something on him. . . . He tears
off or breaks whatever causes him the slightest
discomfort, while the poor valet who has been
the cause of it receives a violent and positive
proof of his anger. No thought was ever carried
away more by its own speed. ' His hand-
writing,' when he tries to write, ' is a mass of
disconnected and undecipherable signs ; the words
lack one half of their letters.' On reading it over
himself he cannot tell what it means. At last
he becomes almost incapable of writing an auto-
graph letter, while his signature is a mere scrawl.
He accordingly dictates, but so fast that his
secretaries can scarcely keep pace with him. On
their first attempt the perspiration flows freely,
and they succeed in noting down only the half

8 Napoleon.

of what he says. Bourrienne, De Meneval, and
Maret invent a stenography of their own, for he
never repeats any of his sentences ; so much the
worse for the pen if it lags behind, and so much
the better if a volley of exclamations or of oaths
give it a chance to catch up."

IV.
HIS ITALIAN LOQUACITY.

ONE generally associates extraordinary military
genius with taciturnity; and there is also a dis-
position to regard reticence as an inevitable
accompaniment of great force of will, and of
genius in action. There are many good people
who really think that Mr. Gladstone cannot be
regarded as a man of genius in action for the
reason that he has talked so much throughout
his life. A study of Napoleon will dissipate this
idea; never was there a talker so incessant, so
impetuous, so daring. Here, again, his Italian
origin reveals itself. Italy is the land of im-
provisation, and over and over again Taine applies
to Napoleon the Italian term " improvisator e?
This is his description, for instance, of Napoleon
speaking at a Ministerial Council : —

"Never did speech flow and overflow in such
torrents, often without either discretion or prudence,
even when the outburst is neither useful nor
creditable ; subject to this inward pressure the
improvisator and polemic, under full headway,

Taine's Portrait. 9

take the place of the man of business and the
statesman. ' With him,' says a good observer,
' talking is a prime necessity; and, assuredly,
among the highest prerogatives, he ranks first
that of speaking without interruption/ Even at
the Council of State he allows himself to run on,
forgetting the business before the meeting; he
starts off right and left with some digression or
demonstration, some invective or other for two or
three hours at a stretch, insisting over and over
again, bent on convincing or prevailing, and ending
by demanding of the others if he is not right,
4 and in this case, never failing to find that all
have yielded to the force of his argument.' On
reflection he knows the value of an assent thus
obtained, and, pointing to his chair, he observes :
' It must be admitted that in that seat one thinks
with facility ! ' Nevertheless, he has enjoyed his
intellectual exercise and given way to his passion,
which controls him far more than he controls it."

v.

AND HIS SENSIBILITY.

IT is, however, one of the contradictions of this
extraordinary character, that he has moments of
intense and almost ingenuous sensibility. " He
who has looked upon thousands of dying men,
and has had thousands of men slaughtered, sobs
after Wagram and after Bautzen at the couch of
a dying comrade." " I saw him," says his valet,

io Napoleon.

" weep while eating his breakfast, after coming
from Marshal Lannes' bedside ; big tears rolled
down his cheeks, and fell on his plate."

" It is not alone the physical sensation, the sight
of a bleeding, mangled body, which thus moves
him acutely and deeply ; for a word, a simple idea,
stings and penetrates almost as far. Before the
emotion of Dandolo, who pleads for Venice his
country, which is sold to Austria, he is agitated
and his eyes moisten. Speaking of the capitulation
of Baylen, at a full meeting of the Council of
State, his voice trembles, 'and he gives way to
his grief, his eyes even filling with tears/ In
1806, setting out for the army and on taking
leave of Josephine, he has a nervous attack,
which is so severe as to bring on vomiting.
'We had to make him sit down/ says an eye-
witness, 'and swallow some orange water. He
shed tears, and this lasted a quarter of an hour.' "
The same nervous crisis came on in 1808, when
he was deciding on the divorce. " He tosses
about a whole night, and laments like a woman.
He melts and embraces Josephine ; he is weaker
than she is. ' My poor Josephine, I can never
leave you ! ' Folding her in his arms, he declares
that she shall not quit him. He abandons him-
self wholly to the sensation of the moment; she
must undress at once, and lie beside him, and he
weeps over her ; ' literally,' she says, ' he soaked
the bed with his tears.' "

Taine's Portrait. 1 1

VI.
HIS MOMENTS OF COWARDICE.

k

IT is also this extreme sensibility which accounts

for those few moments of abject cowardice that
stand out in the career of one of the most fear-
less human beings who ever lived. He himself
has always the dread that there would be a
breakdown in the nervous system — a loss of
balance. " My nerves," he says of himself, " are
very irritable, and when in this state, were my
pulse not always regular, I should risk going
crazy." But his pulse does not always beat
regularly.

" He is twice taken unawares at times when
the peril was alarming and of a new kind. He,
so clear-headed and so cool under fire, the boldest
of military heroes, and the most audacious of
political adventurers, quails twice in a Par-
liamentary storm, and again in a popular crisis.
On the 1 8th of Brumaire, in the Corps Legislatif,
'he turned pale, trembled, and seemed to lose
his head at the shouts of outlawry. . . . They
had to drag him out . . . they even thought for
a moment that he was going to faint/ After
the abdication at Fontainebleau, on encountering
-the rage and imprecations which greeted him in
Provence, he seemed for some days to be morally
shattered ; the animal instinct asserts its

12 Napoleon.

supremacy; he is afraid, and makes no attempt
of concealment. After borrowing the uniform
of an Austrian colonel, the casque of a Prussian
quartermaster, and the cloak of a Russian quarter-
master, he still considers that he is not sufficiently
disguised. In the inn at Calade ' he starts and
changes colour at the slightest noise ; ' the com-
missioners, who repeatedly enter the room, ' find
him always in tears.' ' He wearies them with
his anxieties and irresolution ; ' he says the
French Government would like to have him
assassinated on the road, refuses to eat for fear
of poison, and thinks that he might escape by
jumping out of the window. And yet he gives
vent to his feelings and lets his tongue run on
about himself, without stopping, concerning his
past, his character, unreservedly, indelicately,
trivially, like a cynic and one who is half crazy.
His ideas run loose and crowd each other like
the anarchical gatherings of a tumultuous mob ;
he does not recover his mastery of them until he
reaches Frejus, the end of his journey, where he
feels himself safe and protected from any highway
assault. Then only do they return within
ordinary limits, and fall back in regular line
under the control of the sovereign intellect, which
after sinking for a time, revives and resumes its
ascendency."

This strange, tasteless loquacity of Napoleon —
without dignity, self-respect, or decency — is one of

Taine's Portrait. 13

the many features in his character which must
always be remembered if one wishes to have a
clear and full conception of him. I shall, by-and-
by, bring out the severer and more sinister aspects
of his nature ; for a moment let me lay stress on
this smaller, and what I might call more frivolous,
side of his character ; it adds grimness to his more
fatal and awful qualities. Some of his sayings at
the period to which I have just referred cannot
be transferred to the chaste pages of an English
book. Taine is justified in speaking of Napoleon
as giving under such circumstances "a glimpse
of the actor and even of the Italian buffoon ; "
and it was probably this aspect of his character
conjoined to others — this petty buffoonery in
association with almost divine genius — which
suggested the felicitous title of "Jupiter Scapin,"
applied to him by M. de Pradt, who knew him
well. To this same M. de Pradt Napoleon spoke
very plainly after the return of the disastrous and
terrible expedition to Russia ; in these reflections
he appears " in the light of a comedian, who,
having played badly and failed in his part, retires
behind the scenes, runs down the piece, and
criticises the imperfections of the audience." This
" piece " which had sent hundreds of thousands to
violent death !

14 Napoleon.

VII.

NAPOLEON'S FAMILY.

NAPOLEON'S father, Charles Bonaparte, was weak
and even frivolous, "too fond of pleasure to care
about his children," or his affairs ; he died at
thirty-nine of cancer of the stomach — "which
seems to be the only bequest he made to his son,
Napoleon." His mother was altogether of a
different type — a type, too, thoroughly Italian.
" Serious, authoritative," she was "the real head of
the family." She was, said Napoleon, " hard in her
affections; she punished and rewarded without
distinction good or bad ; she made us all feel it."

On becoming head of the household "she was too
parsimonious — even ridiculously so. This was due
to excess of foresight on her part ; she had known
want, and her terrible sufferings were never out of
her mind. ... In other respects this woman, from
whom it would have been difficult to extract five
francs, would have given up everything to secure
my return from Elba, and after Waterloo she offered
me all she possessed to retrieve my fortunes."

Other accounts of her agree in saying that she
was " unboundedly avaricious ; " that she had " no
knowledge whatever of the usages of society ; "
that she was very " ignorant, not alone of ' French '
literature but of her own." " The character of the
son," says Stendhal, "is to be explained by the

Taine's Portrait. 15

perfectly Italian character of Madame Laetitia."
From her, too, he inherited his extraordinary
courage and resource. She was enceinte with her
great son at the very moment of the French
invasion, and she gave birth to him "amid the
risks of battle and defeat. . . . amidst mountain rides
on horseback, nocturnal surprises, and volleys of
musketry." "Losses, privations, and fatigue/'
says Napoleon, " she endured all, and braved all.
Hers was a man's head on a woman's shoulders."

The sisters of Napoleon are also remarkable
in their way — though, as often happens, what is
strength in the men, degenerates in them into
self-destructive vice.

" Passion, sensuality, the habit of considering
themselves outside of rules, and self-confidence,
combined with talent, predominate in these women
as in those of the fifteenth century. Elisa, of Tus-
cany, had a vigorous brain, was high-spirited and a
genuine sovereign, notwithstanding the disorders
of her private life, in which even appearances were
not sufficiently maintained. Caroline of Naples,
without being more scrupulous than her sister,
* better observed the proprieties ; none of the others
so much resembled the Emperor.' 'With her all
tastes were subordinated to ambition ; ' it was she
who advised and prevailed upon her husband,
Murat,to desert Napoleon in 1814. As to Pauline,
the most beautiful woman of her epoch, ' no wife,
since that of the Emperor Claudius, surpassed her

1 6 Napoleon.

in the use she dared make of her charms ; nothing
could stop her, not even a malady attributed to
her dissipation, and on account of which we have
often seen her borne on a litter/ "

This, perhaps, is the most effective and
deadliest blow at Napoleon in Taine's terrible
indictment. If to this despot had been appor-
tioned the female belongings of a man in, say,
Ratcliff Highway, we should know what it im-
plied. It would imply a family of brutal, pre-
datory, foul instincts. The inheritors of such
instincts would, in the case of the men, be the
denizens of gaols; in the case of the women, would
swell the ranks of prostitutes.

It is healthy, though not wholly comforting, to
be reminded of the similarity of human nature
through the vast differences of human rank and
fortunes. To those who are fearless realists like
Taine, there is a sombre joy in penetrating
through trappings and robes to the naked animal
beneath. Reflect for a moment that behind
the flowing Imperial robes at the High Altar in
Notre Dame, there is a nature, which in other
circumstances would be clothed in the garment
of a violent convict ; that these beautiful, delicate,
richly -bedizened women, whom Napoleon and
chance have placed on thrones, are of the same
mould as that brawling drab who is being haled
to the prison, or lies, broken and beaten, in the
bed of a hospital !

Taine's Portrait. 17

All the brothers of Napoleon were likewise re-
markable in their way; and finally, the family
picture is completed, and Napoleon's character
is also indicated by what Napoleon himself says
of one of his uncles. He " delights in calling to
mind one of his uncles who, in his infancy, prog-
nosticated to him that he would govern the world
because he was fond of lying."

VIII.

NAPOLEON'S BEGINNINGS.

MOODY, rancorous, hating the French as the
conquerors of his country, Napoleon as a youth
looked on the events of the French Revolution
with the detachment of a foreigner. In 1792,
when the struggle between the monarchists and
the revolutionists was at its height, he tries to
find " some successful speculation," and thinks he
will hire and sub-let houses at a profit. On June 20
in the same year he sees the invasion of the
Tuileries, and the King at a window placing the
red cap on his head. " Che Coglione ! " (What a
cuckold !) he exclaims, and immediately after,
" How could they let the rabble enter ! Mow
down 400 or 500 of them with cannon-balls, and
the rest of them would run away."

" On August 10, when the tocsin is sounding,
he regards the people and the King with equal
contempt; he rushes to a friend's house on the

c

1 8 Napoleon.

Carrousel, and there, still as a looker-on, views
at his ease all the occurrences of the day ; finally
the Chateau is forced, and he strolls through the
Tuileries, looks in at the neighbouring cafes, and
that is all. He is not disposed to take sides ;
he has no Jacobin or Royalist impulse. His
features, even, are so calm as to provoke many
hostile and distrustful remarks, ' as unknown
and suspicious.' None of the political or social
conditions which then exercised such control
over men's minds have any hold on him. . . . On
returning to Paris, after having knocked at several
doors, he takes Barras for a patron — Barras, the
most brazen of the corrupt ; Barras, who has
overthrown and contrived the death of his two
former protectors. Among the contending parties
and fanaticisms which succeed each other, he
keeps cool and free to dispose of himself as
he pleases, indifferent to every cause, and caring
only for his own interest. On the evening of
the 1 2th of Vendemiaire, on leaving the Feydeau
Theatre, and noticing the preparations of the
Sections, he said to Junot : ' Ah, if the Sections
would only let me lead them ! I would guarantee
to place them in the Tuileries in two hours,
and have all those rascals of the Convention
turned out ! ' Five hours later, denounced by
Barras and the Convention, he takes * three
minutes' to make up his mind, and instead of
1 blowing up the representatives/ he shoots down

Taine's Portrait. 19

Parisians like any other good condottiere, who,
holding himself in reserve, inclines to the first that
offers, and then to whoso offers the most, pre-
pared to back out afterwards, and who finally
grabs anything he can get."

And it is as a condottiere that Taine regards
Napoleon to the end. From this point of view
he surveys his whole career, and here is the result
of the inspection :

" He is like a condottiere, that is to say, a leader
of a band, getting more and more independent,
pretending to submit under the pretext of public
good, looking out solely for his own interest, cen-
treing all on himself, general on his own account
and for his own advantage in his Italian campaign
before and after the i8th of Fructidor. Still he
was a condottiere of the first class, already aspiring
to the loftiest summits, ' with no stopping-place but
the throne or the scaffold,' ' determined to master
France, and Europe through France, ever occupied
with his own plans, and demanding only three
hours7 sleep a night ' ; making playthings of ideas,
people, religions, and governments; managing man-
kind with incomparable dexterity and brutality ;
in the choice of means, as of ends, a superior
artist, inexhaustible in prestige, seduction, cor-
ruption, and intimidation ; wonderful, and far
more terrible than any wild beast suddenly turned
on to a herd of browsing cattle. The expression
is not too strong, and was uttered by an eye-

C 2

2O Napoleon.

witness almost at this very date, a friend and a
competent diplomat. ' You know that, though I
am very fond of the dear General, I call him
myself the little tiger, so as to properly characterise
his looks, tenacity, and courage, the rapidity of
his movements, and all that he has in him which
may be fairly regarded in that sense.' "

IX.

HIS POWER OF COMMAND.

POOR, forlorn, discontented, at first sight in-
significant in figure, and without any employment,
Napoleon in these early days might have been
passed by without much notice. But it is a
singular thing that the moment he attains any
position, people at once, involuntarily, even strongly
against their will, recognise and bow down before
his calmly arrogant capacity. There are/ for in-
stance, two portraits of him at the period in his
existence just following that to which we have
now reached, and both give the same impression —
the one is by Madame de Stael, and is in words ;
the other is by Guerin, a truthful painter. Madame
de Stael meets him at a time when, having gained
some victories, she and the public generally are
sympathetic towards him ; and yet, she says,
"the recovery from the first excitement of ad-
miration was followed by a decided sense of
apprehension." He had then no power, and

Taine's Portrait. 21

might any day be dismissed, and " thus the terror
he inspired was simply due to the singular effect
of his person on all who approach him."

" I had met men worthy of respect, and had
likewise met men of ferocious character ; but
nothing in the impression which Bonaparte pro-
duced on me reminded me of either. . . . A being
like him, wholly unlike anybody else, could neither
feel nor excite sympathy ; he was both more and
less than a man; his figure, intellect, and language
bore the impress of a foreign nationality. . . . Far
from being reassured on seeing Bonaparte oftener,
he intimidated one more and more every day.
.... He regards a human being as a fact, an
object, and not as a fellow-creature. He neither
hates nor loves : he exists for himself alone ; the
rest of humanity are merely ciphers. . . . Every
time that I heard him talk, I was struck with
his superiority. It bore no resemblance to that of
men informed and cultivated through study and
social intercourse, such as we find in France and
England ; his conversation concerned the material
fact only, like that of the hunter in pursuit
of his prey. His spirit seemed a cold, keen
sword-blade, which freezes while it wounds. I
realised a profound sense of irony which nothing
great or beautiful could withstand, not even his
own fame, for he despised the nation whose
suffrages he sought."

22 Napoleon.

x.

AN EARLY PORTRAIT.

AND now, here is Taine's description of the
Gudrin portrait : —

" Now, notice in Guerin, that spare body,
those narrow shoulders under the uniform wrinkled
by sudden movements, the neck swathed in its
high twisted cravat, those temples covered by
long, smooth, straight hair, exposing only the
mask, the hard features intensified through strong
contrasts of light and shade, the cheeks hollow
up to the inner angle of the eye, the projecting
cheekbones, the massive protuberant jaw, the
sinuous, mobile lips, pressed together as if at-
tentive, the large clear eyes, deeply sunk under
the broad arched eyebrows, the fixed oblique look,
as penetrating as a rapier, and the two creases
which extend from the base of the nose to the
brow, as if in a frown of suppressed anger and
determined will."

" Add to this the accounts of his contemporaries
who saw or heard the curt accent, or the sharp,
abrupt gesture, the interrogating, imperious, ab-
solute tone of voice, and we comprehend how it
was that the moment they accosted him, they felt
the dominating hand which seized them, pressed
them down, held them firmly, never relaxing its
grasp."

Taine's Portrait. 23

Admiral Decres, who had known him well
in Paris, learns that he has to pass through Toulon
on his way to take up the command of the army
in Italy. He rushes to see an old acquaintance : —

" ' I at once propose to my comrades to intro-
duce them, venturing to do so on the grounds of
my acquaintance with him in Paris. Full of eager-
ness and joy, I started off. The door opened, I am
about to press forward/ he afterwards wrote, * when
the attitude, the look, and the tone of voice suffice
to arrest me. And yet there was nothing offen-
sive about him ; still this was enough. I never
tried after that to overstep the line thus imposed
upon me.' A few days later, at Alberga, certain
generals of division, and amongst them Augereau,
a vulgar, heroic old soldier, vain of his tall figure
and courage, arrive at head-quarters, not well
disposed towards the little parvenu sent out to
them from Paris. Recalling the description of
him which had been given to them, Augereau
is abusive and insubordinate beforehand :

" ' One of Barras's favourites ! The Vendemiaire
General ! A street General ! Never been in action !
Hasn't a friend ! Looks like a bear, because he
always thinks of himself! An insignificant figure !
Said to be a mathematician and a dreamer ! '
They enter, and Bonaparte keeps them waiting.
At last he appears with his sword and belt on,
explains the disposition of the forces, gives them
his orders and dismisses them. Augereau is

24 Napoleon.

thunderstruck. Only when he gets out of doors
does he recover himself and fall back on his ac-
customed oaths. He agrees with Massena that

' that little of a general frightened him.' He

cannot comprehend the ascendency 'which over-
awes him at the first glance.' "

One instance more will suffice. General Van-
damme, an old revolutionary soldier, still more
brutal and energetic than Augereau, said to
Marshal D'Ornano, one day when they were
ascending the staircase of the Tuileries together,
" My dear fellow, that devil of a man " (speaking
of the Emperor) " fascinates me in a way I cannot
account for. I, who don't fear either God or the.
Devil, tremble like a child when I approach him.
He would make me dash through the eye of a
needle into the fire ! "

XI.

HIS POT/ER OF WORK.

FROM almost the very first, Napoleon makes no
secret of his final purposes. Let us study the.
causes which enabled him to so successfully use
men and events to carry out these designs.

First among these are his extraordinary powers
of work and of mastering and remembering all
the details of every subject which can come under
the notice of a commander or a ruler. When one
reads the record of his gifts in this respect, one

Taine's Portrait. 25

is for the moment tempted to forget all his
crimes, and to feel that he honestly earned his
success.

Take him, for instance, at the Council of
State :

" Punctual at every sitting, prolonging the
session four or six hours, discussing before and
afterwards the subject brought forward ... in-
forming himself about bygone acts of juris-
prudence, the laws of Louis XIV. and Frederick
the Great. . . . Never did the Council adjourn
without its members knowing more than they
did the day before, if only through the researches
he obliged them to make. Never did the members
of the Senate and Corps Le'gislatif, or of the
tribunal, pay their respects to him without being
rewarded for their homage by valuable instruc-
tions. He cannot be surrounded by public men
without being the head of all, all forming for him
a Council of State."

Here is another picture of him which tells the
same tale :

" ' What characterises him above them all/ is
not alone the penetration and universality of his
comprehension, but likewise and especially ' the
force, flexibility, and constancy of his attention.
He can work thirteen hours a day at a stretch, on
one or on several subjects. I never saw him tired,
I never found his mind lacking inspiration, even
when weary in body, nor when violently exercised,

26 Napoleon.

nor when angry. I never saw him diverted from
one matter by another, turning from that under
discussion to one he had just finished or was
about to take up. The news, good or bad, he
received from Egypt did not divert his mind from
the civil code, nor the civil code from the com-
binations which the safety of Egypt required.
Never did man more wholly devote himself to the
work in hand, nor better devote his time to what
he had to do ; never did mind more inflexibly set
aside the occupation or thought which did not
come at the right day or hour ; never was one
more ardent in seeking it, more alert in its pursuit,
more capable of fixing it when the time came
to take it up/ "

The best description, after all, of the working
of the mind is his own. <e Various subjects/' he
said, " and afTairs are stowed away in my brains,
as in a chest of drawers. When I want to take up
any special business, I shut one drawer and open
another. None of them ever get mixed, and
never does this incommode me or fatigue me.
If I feel sleepy I shut the drawer and go to
sleep."

XII.
THE POWER OF TAKING PAINS.

THIS genius has not only the power of constant
work, but also of taking infinite pains. It will
be seen that nothing in which he succeeds is in

Taine's Portrait. 27

the least degree the result of accident. Here
is a description of himself which will bring this
out :

" ' I am always at work. I meditate a great
deal. If I seem always equal to the occasion,
ready to face what comes, it is because I have
thought the matter over a long time before under-
taking it. I have anticipated whatever might
happen. It is no genius which suddenly reveals
to me what I ought to do or say in any unlooked-
for circumstance, but my own reflection, my own
meditation. ... I work all the time, at dinner, in
the theatre. I wake up at night in order to
resume my work. I got up last night at two
o'clock. I stretched myself on my couch before
the fire to examine the army reports sent to me
by the Minister of War ; I found twenty mistakes
in them, and made notes which I have this
morning sent to the Minister, who is now en-
gaged with his clerks in rectifying them.' "

He wears out all his Ministers by this incessant
power of work. When Consul, "he sometimes
presides at special meetings of the Section of the
Interior from ten o'clock in the evening until five
o'clock in the morning." Often, at St. Cloud, he
keeps the Councillors of State from nine o'clock
in the morning until five in the evening, with
fifteen minutes' intermission, and seems no more
fatigued at the close of the sitting than when it
began.

28 Napoleon.

" During the night sessions 'many of the mem-
bers succumb through lassitude, while the Minister
of War falls asleep.' He gives them a shake and
wakes them up. ' Come, come, citizens, let us
bestir ourselves; it is only two o'clock, and we
must earn the money the French people pay us.'
Consul or Emperor, he demands of each Minister
an account of the smallest details. It is not rare
to see them leaving the council-room overcome
with fatigue, due to the long interrogations to
which he has subjected them ; he disdains to take
any notice of this, and talks about the day's
work simply as a relaxation which has scarcely
exercised his mind."

XIII.
HIS MASTERY OF DETAIL.

ALL this work would be useless if it had not
been backed by a mind which had an almost
miraculous power both of absorbing and retaining
facts and details.

" In each Ministerial department he knows more
than the Ministers, and in each bureau he knows
as much as the clerks. ' On his table lie reports
of the positions of the forces on land and on
water ; he has furnished the plans of these, and
fresh ones are issued every month/ Such is the
daily reading he likes best. ' I have reports on
positions always at hand : my memory for an

Taine's Portrait. 29

Alexandrine is not good, but I never forget a
syllable of my reports on positions. I shall find
them in my room this evening, and I shall not go
to bed until I have read them/ "

And the result is that he knows all the positions
on land and at sea — the number, size, and quality
of his ships in or out of port, the composition and
strength of his enemies' armies, every detail of every
ship and of every regiment, better than the naval
commanders or staff officers themselves. Added
to this, he has a marvellous power of remembering
topographical facts ; he can revive at will an inner
picture of every detail at any distance of time.
And this extraordinary result follows :

" His calculation of distance, marches, and
manoeuvres is so rigid a mathematical operation
that, frequently, at a distance of two or four
hundred leagues, his military foresight, calculated
two or four months ahead, proves correct, almost
on the day named, and precisely on the spot
designated."

An even more remarkable example occurs
when M. de Segur sends in his report on the
coast line. " I have read your reports," he says
to M. de Segur, " and they are exact. Neverthe-
less, you forgot two cannon at Ostend," and he
pointed out the place, " on a road behind the
town." " I went out," naturally exclaims M. de
Segur, "overwhelmed with astonishment that
among thousands of cannon distributed among

30 Napoleon.

the mounted batteries or light artillery on the
coast, two pieces should not have escaped his
observation."

In March, 1800, he punctures a card with a
pin, and tells Bourrienne, his secretary, four
months before, the place he intends to beat M<£las
at San Juliano. " Four months after this I found
myself at San Juliano with his portfolio and
despatches, and that very evening, at Torre-di-
Gafolo, a league off, I wrote the bulletin of the
battle under his dictation." Similarly in the cam-
paign against Austria : —

" Order of marches, their duration, places of
conveyance or meeting of the columns, attacks in
full force, the various movements and mistakes of
the enemy, all, in this rapid dictation, was fore-
seen two months beforehand and at a distance of
200 leagues. . . . The battlefields, the victories,
and even the very days on which we were to enter
Munich and Vienna were then announced, and
written down as it all turned out. . . . Daru saw
these oracles, fulfilled on the designated days up
to our entry into Munich ; if there were any
differences of time and not of results between
Munich and Vienna, they were all in our favour.
... On returning from the camp at Bologna,
Napoleon encounters a squad of soldiers who had
got lost, asks what regiment they belong to, calcu-
lates the day they left, the road they took, what
distance they should have marched, and then tells

Taine's Portrait. 31

them: 'You will find your battalion at such a
halting-place.' At this time the army numbered
200,000 men."

And here is another passage, which also gives
an idea of the immense and practical grasp of this
intense mind :

" ' There is nothing relating to warfare that I
cannot make myself. If nobody knows how to
make gunpowder, I do. I can construct gun-
carriages. If cannon must be cast, I will see that
it is done properly. If tactical details must be
taught, I will teach them/ Hence his com-
petency at the outset — general in the artillery,
major-general, diplomatist, financier, and ad-
ministrator, all at once and in every direction.
Thanks to his fecund apprenticeship, beginning
with the Consulate, he shows Cabinet clerks and
veteran Ministers who send in their reports to him
what to do. 1 1 am a better administrator than they
are : when one has been obliged to rack his brains to
find out how to feed, maintain, control, and ani-
mate with the same spirit and will two or three
hundred thousand men, a long distance from their
country, one soon gets at the secrets of adminis-
tration.' He takes in at a glance every part of
the human machine. He fashions and manipu-
lates each in its proper place and function; the
generators of power, the organs of its trans-
mission, the extra working gear, the composite
action, the speed which ensues, their final result,

32 Napoleon.

the complete effect, the net product ; never is he
content with a superficial inspection ; he pene-
trates into obscure corners and to the lowest
depths, 'through the technical precision of his
questions,' with the lucidity of a specialist."

HIS GRASP OF CHARACTER.

AN equally astonishing power of his is that of
penetrating into the minds of men ; he is, Taine
says, " as great a psychologist as he is an accom-
plished strategist." " In fact, no one has surpassed
him in the art of defining the various states and
impulses of one or of many minds, either prolonged
or for the time being, which impel or restrain men
in general, or this or that individual in particular ;
what springs of action may be touched, and the
kind and degree of pressure that may be applied
to them. The central faculty rules all the others,
and in the art of mastering man his genius is found
supreme."

" Accordingly at the Council of State, while
the others, either legislators or administrators, ad-
duce abstractions, Articles of the Code, and pre-
cedents, he looks into natures as they are — the
Frenchman's, the Italian's, the German's; that of
the peasant, the workman, the noble, the returned
emigre, the soldier, the officer, and the functionary
— everywhere at the individual man as he is, the

Taine's Portrait.

33

man who ploughs, manufactures, fights, marries,
generates, toils, enjoys himself, and dies."

Taine dwells on the wonderful power, which,
too, Napoleon derives from his Italian blood, of
describing his thoughts. " His words," says
Taine, " caught on the wing, and at the moment,"
are "vibrating and teeming with illustration and
imagery." Here is a sample : " Adultery is no
phenomenon ; it is common enough — une affaire
de canape. . . . There should be some curb on
women who commit adultery for trinkets, senti-
ment, Apollo and the Muses, etc."

Here are several others :

"'You Frenchmen are not in earnest about
anything, except, perhaps, equality ; and even
this you would gladly give up, if you were sure
of yourself being the first. . . . The hope of ad-
vancement in this world should be cherished by
everybody. . . . Keep your vanity always alive.
The severity of the Republican Government would
have worried you to death. What started the
revolution ? Vanity ! What will end it ? Vanity
again. Liberty is merely a pretext. Liberty is
the craving of a class small and privileged by
nature, with faculties superior to the common run
of men ; this class may, therefore, be put under
restraint with impunity; equality, on the contrary,
catches the multitude.' ' What do I care for the
opinions and cackle of the drawing-room ; I never

34 Napoleon.

heed it. I pay attention only to what rude
peasants say.' "

" His estimates," says Taine, " of certain situa-
tions are masterpieces of picturesque conciseness."

" ' Why did I stop and sign the preliminaries
of Leoben? Because I was playing Vingt-et-un
and was satisfied with twenty.' His insight into
character is that of the most sagacious critic.
' The " Mahomet " of Voltaire is neither a prophet
nor an Arab, only an impostor graduated out of
the ficole Polytechnique.' ' Madame de Genlis
tries to define virtue as if she were the discoverer
of it/ (Of Madame de Stael), 'This woman
teaches people to think who never took to it or
have forgotten how.' (Of Chateaubriand, one of
whose relations had just been shot), 'He will
write a few pathetic pages and read them aloud
in the Faubourg Saint-Germain ; pretty women
will shed tears, and that will console him/ (Of
the Abbe Delille), ' He is wit in its dotage.' (Of
Pasquier and Mole), ' I make the most of one,
and made the other.' "

It is partly this power of grasping the thoughts
and intentions of others which helps to make him
such a general. Again and again the point must
be insisted upon — that his victories were not happy
accidents, but the final link in a long chain .of
reflection, work, knowledge, and preparation. All
this is summed up in a picturesque phrase by
Napoleon himself: —

Taine's Portrait. 35

" ' When I plan a battle/ said he to Roederer,
'no man is more pusillanimous than I am. I
magnify to myself all the dangers and all the evils
that are possible under the circumstances. I am
in a state of agitation that is really painful. But
this does not prevent me from appearing quite
composed to people around me ; I am like a woman
giving birth to a child.' "

It is also a necessary part of this system that
he should be always looking ahead, and this aspect
of his character is also set forth with picturesqueness
by himself :

" Passionately, in the throes of creation, he
is thus absorbed with his coming greatness; he
already anticipates and enjoys living in his
imaginary edifice. ' General/ said Madame de
Clermont-Tonnerre to him one day, ' you are
building behind a scaffolding which you will take
down when you have done with it.' ' Yes, madame,
that's it/ replied Bonaparte; 'you are right, Fm
always living two years in advance.' His response
came with ' incredible vivacity/ as if it were the
result of a sudden inspiration, that of a soul stirred
in its innermost core."

xv.

WHAT HIS MEMORY HELD.

AND then Taine proceeds to give some notion of
all that was contained in this single brain, and,
powerful as the summing-up is, it will yet be seen

D 2

36 Napoleon.

that it necessarily falls short of all that Napoleon
had to know and remember.

" He has mentally within him three principal
atlases, always at hand, each composed of ' about
twenty note-books,' each distinct, and each regularly
posted up. The first one is military, forming a
vast collection of topographical charts as minute as
those of an etai-major, with detailed plans of every
stronghold, also specific indications of the local
distribution of all forces on sea and on land — crews,
regiments, batteries, arsenals, storehouses, present
and future resources in supplies of men, horses,
vehicles, arms, ammunition, food, and clothing.
The second, which is civil, resembles the heavy,
thick volumes published every year, in which we now
read the state of the Budget, and comprehend, first,
the innumerable items of ordinary and extra-
ordinary receipt and expenditure, internal taxes,
foreign contributions, the products of the domains in
France and out of France, the fiscal services, pensions,
public works, and the rest ; next, all administrative
statistics, the hierarchy of functions and of function-
aries, Senators, Deputies, Ministers, Prefects, Bishops,
Professors, Judges, and those under their orders,
where each of these resides, with his rank, juris-
diction, and salary. The third is a vast biographical
and moral dictionary, in which, as in the pigeon-
holes of the Chef ' de Police, each notable personage
and local group, each professional or social body,
and even each population, had a label, along with

Taine's Portrait. 37

a brief note on its situation and antecedents, and
therefore its demonstrated character, eventual dis-
position, and probable conduct. Each label, or
strip of paper, holds a summing-up ; all these
partial summaries, methodically classified, terminate
in totals, and the totals of the three atlases com-
bined together thus furnish their possessor with
an estimate of his disposable forces. Now, in
1809, however full these atlases, they are clearly
imprinted on Napoleon's mind; he knows not
only the total and the partial summaries, but also
the slightest details ; he reads them readily and at
every hour ; he comprehends in a mass, and in all
particulars, the various nations he governs directly
or through some one else; that is to say, sixty
million men, the different countries he has con-
quered or overrun, consisting of seventy thousand
square miles ; at first France increased by the
addition of Belgium and Piedmont; next Spain,
from which he is just returned, and where he has
placed his brother Joseph ; Southern Italy, where,
after Joseph, he has placed Murat ; Central Italy,
where he occupies Rome; Northern Italy, where
Eugene is his delegate ; Dalmatia and Istria, which
he has joined to his empire ; Austria, which he
invades for the second time ; the Confederation
of the Rhine, which he has made and which he
directs ; Westphalia and Holland, where his
brothers are only his lieutenants ; Prussia, which
he has subdued and mutilated, and which he

38 Napoleon.

oppresses, and the strongholds of which he still
retains. Add to this a last mental tableau,
representing the Northern Seas, the Atlantic,
and the Mediterranean, all the fleets of the
Continent, at sea and in port, from Dantzic to
Flessingen and Bayonne, from Cadiz to Toulon
and Gaeta, from Tarentum to Venice, Corfu, and
Constantinople."

And, finally, there is this fact to be considered :
that all this did not only extend over a small
portion of his lifetime. General Grant worked
prodigiously, and had an extraordinarily close and
intimate knowledge of all the details of his army ;
but then the Civil War of America lasted for but
four years. But think of the duration of Napoleon's
career — think how many there were of those days
and nights packed full of feverish, incessant, wild
work.

" The quantity of facts he is able to retain and
store away, the quantity of ideas he elaborates and
produces, seems to surpass human capacity, and
this insatiable, inexhaustible, immoveable brain
thus keeps on working uninterruptedly for thirty
years."

XVI.
HIS IMAGINATIVENESS.

NOW I take him on another side of his character —
the side which ultimately led to his ruin — that
is, his imaginativeness. He has accomplished a

Taine's Portrait. 39

tremendous amount ; he has undertaken even
more ; but " whatever he may have undertaken
is far surpassed by what he has imagined." For,
great as was his practical power, "his poetical
faculty is stronger." This poetical faculty it is
which ultimately saved his enemies, for " it is
too vigorous for a statesman " ; " its grandeur
is exaggerated into enormity, and its enormity
degenerates into madness." And then Taine
reproduces some of his wild dreamings, to which
he gave vent when the moment of expansion
was on him, and his brilliant Italian vocabulary
was at the service of his excited imagination ; as,
for instance — he is talking to Bourrienne :

" ' Europe is a molehill ; never have there been
great empires and great revolutions except in
the Orient with its 600,000,000 of men.' The
following year, at« St. Jean d'Acre, on the eve of
the last assault, he added : ' If I succeed, I shall
iind in the town the pacha's treasure and arms for
300,000 men. I stir up, and arm all Syria. . . .
I march on to Damascus and Aleppo; as I
advance in the country my army will be increased
by the discontented. I proclaim to the people
the abolition of slavery, and of the tyrannical
government of the pachas. I reach Constantinople
with armed masses. I overthrow the Turkish
•empire ; I found in the East a new and grand
empire, which fixes my place with posterity, and
perhaps I return to Paris by the way of Adrianople,

4-O Napoleon.

or by Vienna, after having annihilated the House
of Austria.' "

XVIT.
DREAMS OF A NEW RELIGION.

ALL this is before he has become Consul and
Emperor; but even after he had reached the
pinnacle of power the dream recurs again and
again. " Since two hundred years," he said at
Mayence, in 1804, "there is nothing more ta
do in Europe ; it is only in the East that things
can be carried out on a grand scale." And then,
giving way to that extraordinary imagination
of his, he says :

" ' I created a religion ; I saw myself on the
road to Asia mounted on an elephant, with a
turban on my head, and in my hand a new
Koran, which I composed to suit myself.1 "

This idea of founding a religion, and so
exercising the same tyrannous influence on the
future generations of men, as that which he
exercised over his own generation, is a dream
that constantly haunts him. Paris is to be the
centre of the world. " I mean that every king
shall build a grand palace in Paris for his own
use. On the coronation of the Emperor of the
French these kings will come and occupy it ; they
will grace this imposing ceremony with their
presence, and honour it with their salutations."
This is grandiose enough, but it is not all; the

Taine's Portrait. 41

future of the soul still remains ; and as he cannot
make a new Eastern Empire and a new Koran,
he must get at Europe through the Pope. The
Pope must give up Rome and come to live in
Paris permanently. And then the Pope will
rule the conscience of the world, and Napoleon
will rule the Pope. " Paris would become the
capital of the Christian world, and I would have
governed the religious world as well as the political
world."

I put down all this not merely to the insatiable
love of power, but to profound, unfathomable
contempt for mankind, which made it delightful
to the imagination of Napoleon to think of their
grovelling in their folly before him long after he
had gone. Here is a further example of this
spirit :

" ' I come too late ; there is no longer anything
great to accomplish. I admit that my career is
brilliant, and that I have made my way success-
fully. But what a difference to the conquerors of
antiquity ! Take Alexander ! After having con-
quered Asia, and proclaimed himself to the people
son of Jupiter, with the exception of Olympias,
who knew what all this meant, and Aristotle, and
a few Athenian pedants, the entire Orient believed
him. Very well ; should I now declare that I
was the son of God Almighty, and proclaim that
I am going to worship Him under this title, there
is not an old beldame that would not hoot at me

42 Napoleon.

as I walked along the streets. People nowadays
know too much. Nothing is left to do.' "

And this imagination and poetic power are to
be found in his private as well as his public
concerns. For instance, he is superstitious : " He
was disposed to accept the marvellous, presenti-
ments, and even certain mysterious communica-
tions between human beings."

" I have seen him," writes Madame de Re*musat,
" excited by the rustling of the wind, speak en-
thusiastically of the roar of the sea, and sometimes
inclined to believe in nocturnal apparitions ; in
short, leaning to certain superstitions."

" Meneval notes his crossing himself in-
voluntarily on the occasion of some great danger
or the discovery of some important fact.
' During the Consulate, in the evening, in a
circle of ladies, he sometimes improvised and
declaimed tragic tales, Italian fashion, quite
worthy of the story-tellers of the fifteenth and
sixteenth centuries. ... As to love, his letters
to Josephine during the Italian campaign form
some of the best examples of Italian passion,
and are in most piquant contrast with the tem-
perate and graceful elegance of his predecessor,
M. de Beauharnais.' "

Taine's Portrait. 43

XVIII.
HIS COURT.

I TURN now to another and a different side of
his character. It is part of his intense love of
power that everybody about him must be per-
fectly dependent on him. " He considered him-
self/' said an Italian diplomatist who had studied
him for many years, "an isolated being in the
world, made to govern and direct all minds as
he pleased/' By-and-by, I shall describe how
he carried out this in the case of men ; for the
moment, I shall deal with the exercise of this
passion in reference to women.

There had been despots in France before
Napoleon; for instance, the sway of Louis XIV.
was absolute; but then in him, as in most
monarchs, there were two sides. As monarch and
man of business, he was one thing; but when
he was engaged in social duties, he was head of
his house ; " he welcomed visitors, entertained
his guests, and that his guests should not be
automatons, he tried to put them at their ease."
He did not, above all things, "persistently, and
from morning to night, maintain a despotic atti-
tude ; " quite the reverse :

" Polite to everybody, always affable with men
and sometimes gracious, always courteous with
women, and sometimes gallant, carefully avoiding

44 Napoleon.

brusqueness, ostentation, and sarcasm, never allow-
ing himself to use an offensive word, never making
people feel their inferiority and dependence, but,
on the contrary, encouraging them to express
opinions, and even to converse, tolerating in con-
versation a semblance of equality, smiling at a
repartee, playfully telling a story — such were his
ways in the drawing-room. . . . Owing to edu-
cation and tradition he had consideration for
others, at least for the people around him, his
courtiers being his guests without ceasing to be
his subjects."

But Napoleon will have none of this. He
borrows from the old Court " its rigid discipline,
and its pompous parade ; " but that is all.

" ' The ceremonial system/ says an eye-witness,
{ was carried out as if it had been regulated by
tap of drum. Everything was done, in a certain
sense, in double-quick time.'

"... This air of precipitation, this instant
anxiety which it inspires, puts an end to all
comfort, all ease, all entertainment, all agreeable
intercourse. There is no common bond but that
of command and obedience.

" ' The few individuals he singles out — Savary,
Duroc, Maret — keep silent and transmit orders.' '"'

And then comes this truly odious picture of
Napoleon's Court :

" l Through calculation as well as from taste
he never relaxes his state'; hence 'a mute,

Taine's Portrait. 45

frigid Court . . . more dismal than dignified ;
every countenance wearing an expression of uneasi-
ness ... a silence both dull and constrained.' At
Fontainebleau, ' amidst splendours and pleasures/
there is no real enjoyment or satisfaction, not even
to himself. ' I pity you/ said M. de Talleyrand
to M. de Re"musat; 'you have to amuse the
unamuseable.' At the theatre he is abstracted
or yawns. Applause is interdicted ; the Court,
sitting out ' the file of eternal tragedies, is mortally
bored . . . the young ladies fall asleep, people
leave the theatre gloomy and discontented/ There
is the same constraint in the drawing-room. * He
did not know how to appear at ease, and I believe
he never wanted anybody else to be so. He was
afraid of the slightest approach to familiarity,
and inspired every one with the fear of saying
something offensive of his neighbour before
witnesses. . . . During the quadrille he moves
around amongst the row of ladies, addressing
them with trifling or disagreeable remarks,' and
never does he accost them otherwise than
' awkwardly and as if ill at ease.' At bottom
he distrusts, and is ill-disposed towards them.
It is because 'the power they have acquired in
society seems to him an intolerable usurpation.' "

And if any picture could be more odious than
this, here is another more odious still :

" Never did he utter to a woman a graceful or
even a well-turned compliment, although the effort

46 Napoleon.

to do so was often apparent in his face and in
the tone of his voice. . . . He talks to them only
of their toilet, of which he declares himself a severe
and minute judge, and on which he indulges in not
very delicate jests ; or, again, on the number of
their children, enquiring of them, in rude language,
whether they nurse them themselves ; or, again,
lecturing them on their social relations. Hence there
is not one who does not rejoice when he moves
away. He often amuses himself by putting them
out of countenance, scandalising and bantering them
to their faces, driving them into a corner, just as
a colonel worries his canteen woman. ' Yes, ladies,
you furnish the good people of the Faubourg
Saint-Germain with something to talk about. It
is said, Madame A., that you are intimate with
Monsieur B., and you, Madame C., with Monsieur
D.' On any intrigue chancing to appear in the
police reports, ' he loses no time in informing the
husband of what is going on.' He is no less
indiscreet in relation to his own freaks ; when the
affair is over he divulges the fact and gives the
name ; furthermore, he informs Josephine of its
details, and will not listen to any reproach. ' I
have a right to answer all your objections with an
eternal " Moi ! " ; he says/'

Taine's Portrait. 47

XIX.
HIS RUDENESS.

NAPOLEON'S awkwardness with women was the
theme of everybody who knew him intimately, and
observed him closely. One of these says :

" It would be difficult to imagine any one
more awkward than Napoleon in a drawing-
room. ... 'I never heard a harsher voice, or one
so inflexible. When he smiled it was only with
the mouth and a portion of the cheeks; the brow
and eyes remained immovably sombre. . . . This
combination of gaiety and seriousness, had some-
thing in it terrible and frightful.' On one occa-
sion, at St. Cloud, Varnhagen heard him exclaim
over and over again twenty times before a group
of ladies, ' How hot ! ' "

This awkwardness of men of action when
with women is not at all uncommon. There are
examples even in our own day. " Small talk "
is really a difficulty with men whose whole
being is intent on great enterprises and on the
ruling of men. Napoleon, living always two
years ahead of himself — with all these images and
recollections of terrible battle-fields, great com-
binations, world-wide empire — found it impossible
to attune his mind to the trifles of the hour.

His restless, vivid, and realistic mind seems,
indeed, always under an unpleasant restraint in

48 Napoleon.

civilian surroundings. A good deal of this is
doubtless due to the fact that all his training
had been in the guard-room and at mess, and
many of his acts and expressions have the fine,
full-flavoured tone of the soldier. Hence his
dislike to all the conventions of society. Says
Taine:

" It is because good taste is the highest attain-
ment of civilisation, the innermost vestment which
drapes human nudity, which best fits the person,
the last garment retained after the others have
been cast off, and whose delicate tissue continues
to hamper Napoleon : he throws it off instinctively,
because it interferes with his natural utterance,
with the uncurbed, dominating, savage ways of the
conqueror who knocks down his adversary and
treats him as he pleases."

Napoleon himself was not slow to avow with
characteristic frankness his feelings on the subject.

"'I stand apart from other men. I accept
nobody's conditions, nor any species of obligation,
no code whatever, not even the common code of
outward civility, which, diminishing or dissimu-
lating brutality, allows men to associate together
without clashing.' He does not comprehend it,
and he repudiates it. ' I have little liking/ he says,
* for that vague, levelling word politeness, which
you people fling out whenever you have a chance.
It is an invention of fools who want to surpass
clever men ; a kind of social muzzle which annoys

Taine's Portrait. 49

the strong and is useful only to the mediocre. . .
Ah, good taste ! Another classic expression which
I do not accept.' 'It is your personal enemy/
says Talleyrand to him one day; 'if you could
have shot it away with bullets, it would have
disappeared long ago.' "

xx.

HIS AGGRESSIVENESS.

His hatred for all the conventions of society
comes out in his intercourse with other nations
and other monarchs. His diplomacy was as
different from that of all other times and men
as anything else. His everlasting desire to com-
mand is unchecked for a moment by good feeling,
good taste, any of the finer sensibilities which
influence the ordinary man.

" His attitude, even at pacific interviews,
remains aggressive, and militant; purposely or
involuntarily he raises his hand, and the blow is
felt to be coming, while, in the meantime, he
insults. In his correspondence with Sovereigns,
or in his official proclamations, in his deliberations
with Ambassadors, and even at public audiences,
he provokes, threatens, and defies ; he treats his
adversary with a lofty air, insults him often to his
face, and loads him with the most disgraceful
imputations; he divulges the secrets of his life in
private, of his study, and of his bed ; he defames

5O Napoleon.

or calumniates his Minister, his Court, and his
wife; he purposely stabs people in the most
sensitive part ; he tells one that he is a dupe,
a betrayed husband ; another that he is an
abettor of assassination; he assumes the air
of a judge condemning a criminal, or the tone
of a superior reprimanding an inferior, or,
at best, that of a teacher taking a scholar to
task."

Instance after instance can be given of this, as
for instance :

"After the battle of Jena, Qth, i;th, i8th,
and iQth, there is, in the bulletins, comparison of
the Queen of Prussia with Lady Hamilton, open
and repeated insinuations, imputing to her an in-
trigue with the Emperor Alexander. ' Everybody
admits that the Queen of Prussia is the author of
the evils that the Prussian nation suffers. This is
heard everywhere. How changed she is since that
fatal interview with the Emperor Alexander. . . .
The portrait of the Emperor Alexander, presented
to her by the Prince, was found in the apartment
of the Queen at Potsdam.' "

XXI.
HIS TREATMENT OF HIS MINISTERS.

IN Taine's picture, Napoleon is so overbearing
towards his Ministers, that it seems incredible that
he could have got any man to serve him — except

Taine's Portrait. 51

that the love of power and office, as well as
of money, will always give to rulers plenty of
tools to assume and even to love the badge of
servitude.

In his dealings with his Ministers, Napoleon
proceeds on a plan — a plan which was impossible
to any one except a man of hard and un-
generous nature. " His leading general principle,"
says Taine, " which he applies in every way, in
great things as in small ones, is that a man's zeal
depends on his anxiety."

" For a machine to work well, it is important
that the machinist should overhaul it frequently,
which this one never fails to do, especially after
a long absence. Whilst he is on his way from
Tilsit 'everybody anxiously examines his con-
science to ascertain what he has done that this
rigid master will find fault with on his return.
Whether spouse, family, or grand dignitary,
each is more or less disturbed; while the
Empress, who knows him better than any
one, naively says, "As the Emperor has had
such success, he will certainly do a good deal of
scolding!"' ... In fact, he has scarcely arrived
when he gives a rude and vigorous turn of the
screw, and then, 'satisfied at having excited
terror all round, he appears to have forgotten
what has passed, and resumes the usual tenor of
his life."1

The experience of M. de R<£musat, Prefect of

E 2

52 Napoleon.

the Palace, and one of his most devoted servants,
is the same.

" When the Prefect has arranged ' one of those
magnificent fetes in which all the arts minister
to his enjoyment/ economically, correctly, with
splendour and success, Madame never asks her
husband if the Emperor is satisfied, but whether
he has scolded more or less."

XXII.
THE DEPENDENCE OF THE MARSHALS.

As Napoleon trusts to no principle in his
Ministers but fear and self-interest, he takes
elaborate precautions against their ever becoming
independent of him. In this respect he shows a
delight in the degradation of human nature
that sometimes almost appals one — it is as
though the hideous sneer of Mephistopheles
were transferred from the pages of the poet to
the more moving drama of human life. Take,
for instance, Napoleon's treatment of his Mar-
shals. He claimed to "be sole master, making
or marring reputations " according to his personal
requirements.

"Too brilliant a soldier would become too
important ; a subordinate would never be tempted
to be less submissive. To this end he plans
what he will omit in his bulletins, what alterations
and what changes shall be made in them. It

Taine's Portrait. 53

is convenient to keep silent about certain victories,
or to convert the defeat of this or that Marshal
into a success. Sometimes a General learns from
a bulletin of an action that he was never in, and
of a speech that he never made."

When the General complains, he is given the
right to get rich by pillage, or has a title bestowed
upon him. But even yet he does not feel the
grasp of the iron hand of Napoleon removed.

" On becoming Duke or Hereditary Prince,
with half a million or a million of revenue from his
estate, he is not less held in subjection, for the
creator has taken precautions against his own
creatures. ' Some people there,' said he, ' I have
made independent, but I know when to lay my
hand upon them and keep them from being
ungrateful/ In truth, if he has endowed them
magnificently, it is with domains assigned to them
in conquered countries, which ensures their fortune
being his fortune. Besides, in order that they
may not enjoy any pecuniary stability, he ex-
pressly encourages them and all his grand
dignitaries to make extravagant outlays ; thus,
through their financial embarrassments, he holds
them in a leash. ' We have seen most of his
Marshals, constantly pressed by their creditors,
come to him for assistance which he gives as he
pleases, or when he finds it for his interest to
attach some one to himself.' "

There is an even deeper depth than this : —

54 Napoleon.

" ' He carefully cultivates all the bad passions
... he is glad to find the bad side in a man, so
as to get htm in his power/ The thirst for money
in Savary, the Jacobin defects in Fouche, the
vanity and sensuality of Cambaceres, the careless
cynicism and 'the easy immorality' of Talleyrand,
the 'dry bluntness of Duroc/ the 'courtier-like
insipidity of Maret/ 'the silliness7 of Berthier;
he brings this out, diverts himself with it, and
profits by it. 'Where he sees no vice he en-
courages weaknesses, and in default of anything
better, he provokes fear, so that he may be ever
and continually the strongest. . . . He dreads ties
of affection, and strives to alienate people from
each other. . . . He sells his favours by
arousing anxiety, and he thinks the best way
to attach individuals to him is to compromise
them, and often, even, to ruin them in public
opinion.' ' If Caulaincourt is compromised/ said
he, after the murder of the Due d'Enghien, ' it is
no great matter ; he will serve me all the better.'"

XXIII.
HIS HATRED OF INDEPENDENCE.

IT is a necessary part of this horrible system that
all Napoleon's Ministers must surrender all their
independence of judgment ; their one law must be
his will and his interest.

" If his scruples arrest him, if he alleges

Taine's Portrait. 55

personal obligations, if he had rather not fail
in delicacy, or even in common loyalty, he incurs
the risk of offending or losing the favour of the
master, which is the case with M. de Re"musat,
who is willing to become his spy, reporter, and
denunciator for the Faubourg Saint- Germain, but
does not offer at Vienna to drag from Madame
d'Andre the address of her husband, so that
M. d'Andre may be taken and immediately shot.
Savary, who was the negotiator for his being
given up, kept constantly telling M. de Re*musat,
'You are going against your interest; I may say
that I do not comprehend you ! ' '

This Savary was one of the most contemptible
and villainous of Napoleon's agents. Napoleon
himself said of him : " He is a man who must be
constantly corrupted."

" And yet Savary, himself Minister of the Police,
executor of most important arrests, head manager
of the murder of the Due d'Enghien, and of the
ambuscade at Bayonne, counterfeiter of Austrian
banknotes for the campaign of 1809, and of Russian
banknotes for that of 1812, Savary ends in getting
weary ; he is charged with too many dirty jobs ;
however hardened his conscience, it has a tender
spot ; he discovers at last that he has scruples.
It is with great repugnance that, in February 1814,
he executes the order to have a small infernal
machine prepared, moving by clockwork, so as
to blow up the Bourbons on their return to France.

56 Napoleon.

fAh,J he said, giving himself a blow on the
forehead, ' it must be admitted that the Emperor
is sometimes hard to serve.' "

And the final result is that Napoleon drives
from his Court and his Cabinet every man of sense
and honour. " Independence of any kind, even
eventual and merely possible, puts him out of
humour ; intellectual or moral superiority is of
this order, and he gradually gets rid of it."

" Towards the last he no longer tolerates along-
side of him any but subject or captive spirits ;
his principal servants are machines or fanatics —
a devout worshipper like Maret, a gendarme like
Savary, ready to do his bidding. From the out-
set he has reduced his Ministers to the condition
of clerks, for he is administrator as well as ruler,
and in each department he watches details as
closely as the entire mass ; accordingly he requires
simply for head men active scribes, mute exe-
cutioners, docile and special hands, no honest
and free advisers. ' I should not know what to
do with them/ he said, 'if they were not to a
certain extent mediocre in mind and character.' "

And the result is the deadening in him of
all real human feeling.

" Therefore, outside of explosions of nervous
sensibility, ' he has no consideration for men —
other than that of a foreman for his workmen/
or, more precisely, for his tools ; once the tool
is worn out, little does he care whether it rusts

Taine's Portrait. 57

away in a corner or is cast aside on a heap of
scrap iron. Portalis, Minister of Justice, enters
his room one day with a downcast look, and
his eyes filled with tears. ' What is the matter
with you, Portalis ? ' inquired Napoleon. ' Are
you ill?' 'No, sire, but very wretched. The

poor Archbishop of Tours, my old schoolmate '

4 Eh, well, what has happened to him ? ' ' Alas,
sire, he has just died.' 'What do I care? He
was no longer good for anything.' "

XXIV.
HIS ESTIMATE OF HUMANITY.

SURROUNDED by such creatures, it is not un-
natural that the original and instinctive cynicism
of Napoleon's nature should be aggravated. In
the end, all faith in anything but the base and
the selfish in human nature disappeared. His
scepticism was not affected as it often is — it was
genuine conviction. Nay more, it was almost a
fanatical faith— a faith that was one of the chief
causes which led to his final destruction. Every-
body who knew him agrees in describing this
disbelief in anything but the base in man as a
fixed idea.

"' His opinions on men,' writes M. de Metter-
nich, ' centred on one idea, which, unfortunately,
with him had acquired in his mind the force of an
axiom ; he was persuaded that no man who was

5$ Napoleon.

induced to appear on the public stage, or who was
merely engaged in the active pursuits of life,
governed himself or was governed otherwise than
by his interests.' According to him, man is held
through his egoistic passions, fear, cupidity, sen-
suality, self-esteem, and emulation ; these are the
mainsprings when he is not under excitement,
when he reasons. Moreover, it is not difficult to
turn the brain of man ; for he is imaginative,
credulous, and subject to being carried away;
stimulate his pride or his vanity, provide him with
an extreme and false opinion of himself and his
fellow-men, and you can start him off, head down-
wards, wherever you please."

This theory of Napoleon sometimes finds diffi-
culties in its way. There, for instance, are
Lafayette and others, who have given proof of
disinterestedness, loyalty, and zeal for the public
good. But Napoleon is neither dismayed nor
converted ; whenever he meets such a man he tells
him to his face that he regards him either as a
conscious or a self-deceived impostor.

" ' General Dumas,' says he abruptly to Mathieu
Dumas, 'you were one of the imbeciles who
believed in liberty?' 'Yes, sire, I was, and am
still one of that class.' * And you, like the rest,
took part in the Revolution through ambition ? *
' No, sire ; I should have calculated badly, for I
am now precisely where I stood in 1790.' 'You
are not sufficiently aware of the motives which

Taine's Portrait. 59

prompted you ; you cannot be different from other
people ; it is all personal interest. Now, take
Massena. He has glory and honours enough ; but
he is not content. He wants to be a prince like
Murat or Bernadotte. He would risk being shot
to-morrow to be a prince. That is the incentive of
Frenchmen.' * I never heard him/ said Madame
de Remusat, * express any admiration or compre-
hension of a noble action.' ' His means,' says the
same writer, ' for governing men were all derived
from those which tend to debase them. . . . He
tolerated virtue only when he could cover it with
ridicule.' "

His disbelief in anything but the base was, as
I have said, one of the causes of his downfall, for
it led to some of his grossest miscalculations ; or,
as Taine well puts it : —

" Such is the final conception on which
Napoleon has anchored himself, and into which
he sinks deeper and deeper, no matter how
directly and violently he may be contradicted by
palpable facts ; nothing will dislodge him, neither
the stubborn energy of the English, nor the in-
flexible gentleness of the Pope, nor the declared
insurrection of the Spaniards, nor the mute in-
surrection of the Germans, nor the resistance of
Catholic consciences, nor the gradual disaffection
of the French. The reason is, that his concep-
tion is imposed upon him by his character; he
sees man as he needs to see him."

60 Napoleon.

HIS JUDGMENTS ON HIMSELF.

His miscalculation arises from another cause —
the excessive imagination, which so often led
astray that cold, calculating, splendid mind. " The
Emperor," said M. de Pradt, that keen observer
of him, whom I have often quoted already, "is
all system, all illusion, as one cannot fail to be
when one is all imagination. Whoever has watched
his course has noticed his creating for himself an
imaginary Spain, an imaginary Catholicism, an
imaginary England, an imaginary financial state,
an imaginary noblesse, and still more, an imaginary
France."

A curious thing about him is that occasionally
he has glimpses of his own faults and of the
verdict which will be passed upon him. Take, for
instance, his judgment upon his treatment of his
subordinates :

" He was heard to say, ' The lucky man is he
who hides away from me in the depths of some
province/ And another day, having asked M. de
Segur what people would say of him after his
death, the latter enlarged on the regrets which
would be universally expressed. ' Not at all,'
replied the Emperor ; and then drawing in his
breath in a significant manner indicative of
universal relief, he replied : ' They'll say, Ouf ! ' "

Taine's Portrait. 61

And here is another self-condemnation :

" On reaching the Isle of Poplars, the First
Consul stopped at Rousseau's grave and said : ' It
would have been better for the repose of France
if that man had never existed ! ' * And why,
citizen Consul ? ' ' He is the man who made the
French Revolution.' ' It seems to me that you
need not complain of the French Revolution.'
' Well, the future must decide whether it would
not have been better for the repose of the
whole world if neither myself nor Rousseau had
ever lived/ He then resumed his promenade in
a reverie."

And from the outset of his career, he boldly
proclaims his selfish purposes.

" ' Do you suppose,' says he to them, after the
preliminaries of Leoben, 'that it is to aggrandise
Directory lawyers, such as the Carnots, and the
Barras, that I triumph in Italy ? Do you suppose,
also, that it is for the establishment of a republic ?
What an idea ! A republic of thirty million men !
With our customs, our vices, how is that possible ?
It is a delusion with which the French are in-
fatuated, and which will vanish along with so many
others. What they want is glory, the gratification
of vanity — they know nothing about liberty.
Look at the army ! Our successes just obtained,
our triumphs have already brought out the true
character of the French soldier. I am all for him.
Let the Directory deprive me of the cockade and

62 Napoleon.

it will see who is master. The nation needs a
chief, one who is famous through his exploits,
and not theories of Government, phrases, and
speeches by ideologists, which Frenchmen do not
comprehend/ "

And when he is recommended to make peace
and end the war in Italy, he says :

" * It is not for my interest to make peace.
You see what I am, what I can do in Italy.
If peace is brought about, if I am no longer at
the head of the army which has become attached
to me, I must give up this power, this high
position I have reached, and go and pay court to
lawyers in the Luxembourg. I should not like to
quit Italy for France except to play a part
there similar to that which I play here, and the
time for that has not yet come— the pear is not
ripe/ "

XXVI.
THE CAUSES OF HIS FALL.

FINALLY, his desire to rule the whole world brings
Napoleon to his fall. He has been such a scourge
to humanity that humanity rises up in revolt
against him. He has taken Spanish, Italian,
Austrian, Prussian, Swiss, Bavarian, Saxon, Dutch,
as well as French lives ; the nations hate him as
much as their monarchs.

" Unquestionably with such a character nobody
can live ; his genius is too vast, too mischievous, and

Taine's Portrait. 63

all the more so because it is so vast. War will last
as long as he reigns ; it is in vain to reduce him,
to confine him at home, to drive him back within
the ancient frontier of France ; no barrier will
restrain him, no treaty will bind him ; peace with
him will never be other than a truce, he will use it
simply to recover himself, and, as soon as he has
done this, he will begin again ; he is in his very
essence anti-social. The mind of Europe in this
respect is made up definitely and unshakeably.
One petty detail alone shows how unanimous and
profound this conviction is. On March 7th, the
news reached Vienna that he has escaped from the
Island of Elba without its being yet known where
he would land. M. de Metternich, before eight
o'clock in the morning, brings the news to the
Emperor of Austria, who says to him, ' Lose no
time in finding the King of Prussia and the
Emperor of Russia, and tell them that I am ready
to order my army to march at once on France/
At a quarter-past eight M. de Metternich is with
the Czar, and at half-past eight with the King
of Prussia; both of them reply instantly in the
same manner. 'At nine o'clock/ says M. de
Metternich, ' I was back. At ten o'clock aides
flew in every direction countermanding army
orders. . . . Thus was war declared in less than
an hour/ "

64 Napoleon.

XXVII.
THE INSTABILITY OF HIS RULE.

AND not only is Europe united against him, but
his own country at last ceases to have any faith
in him. Those who are immediately around him
are soonest convinced that his day must come to
an end, and that with such a despotism as his,
abyssmal ruin is the foredoomed and inevitable
result. It shows a strange lack somewhere in
Napoleon's character and mind that he was always
blind to consequences, which the commonest and
the dullest man around him could see. I suppose
that this is one of the penalties which men of
inflexible and resistless wills have to pay for their
great powers — the same fearlessness, the same
tenacity, the same determination to succeed which
make them, are also the very qualities which
finally mar them. We have seen in Irish political
history a remarkable and tragic example, in our
own time, of how the same great qualities, which
commanded success against gigantic odds, brought
failure when the power to calculate the odds had
been submerged by the inflexible will, imperious
temper, and deadly and unyielding tenacity of
purpose.

All those near Napoleon or at the centre
of affairs, like Metternich, saw, as I have just
said, that the fabric raised by him had not a
single element of durability.

Taine's Portrait. 65

" M. de Metternich," says Taine, " by way of
a political summing up, expresses the following
general opinion : ' It is remarkable that Napoleon,
who is constantly disturbing and modifying the
relations of all Europe, has not yet taken a
single step towards ensuring the maintenance of
his successors.' "

As time went on this opinion of Metternich is
confirmed, and gradually it spreads to Napoleon's
entourage.

The diplomat adds, in 1809: " His death
will be the signal for a new and frightful
upheaval ; so many divided elements all tend to
combine. Deposed sovereigns will be recalled
by whilom subjects ; new princes will have new
crowns to defend. A veritable civil war will
rage for half a century over the vast Empire
of the Continent of Europe."

In 1811, "Everybody is convinced that on
the disappearance of Napoleon, the master in
whose hands all power is concentrated, the first
inevitable consequence will be a revolution/'
At home in France, at this same date, his
own subjects begin to comprehend that his
dominion is merely temporary, that the Empire
is ephemeral and will not last during his life;
for he is constantly raising his edifice higher
and higher, while all that his building gains
in elevation it loses in stability. 'The Em-
peror is crazy,' said Decres to Marmont, 'com-

F

66 Napoleon.

pletely crazy. He will ruin us all, numerous
as we are, and all will end in some frightful
catastrophe.' "

And the curious fact is that even Napoleon
himself takes, "in lucid moments/7 as Taine
put it, " the same view."

"'It will last as long as I do. After me,
however, my son may deem himself fortunate if
he has 4O,ooof. a year.' How often at this time
(1811) was he heard to foretell that the weight
of his Empire would crush his heir. ' Poor child/
said he, looking at the King of Rome, ' what an
entanglement I shall leave you.' "

XXVIII.
HIS OBSTINATE EGOTISM.

BUT it was only in lucid moments that Napoleon
was able to see this clearly ; as a rule he was
the slave of his imagination ; and no disaster,
no combination of Kings, no superiority of
forces, could abate his self-confidence or curtail
his schemes. Almost to the last he persisted
in believing that everything would end as he
desired.

And, in the meantime, how is it with France ?
At last, even the inexhaustible courage and patience
of the people are coming to an end. But Napoleon
persists. The more the people groan, the more

Taine's Portrait. 67

of them are killed, the heavier becomes his hand,
the greater the exactions, the more unsparing the
conscription. Between January and October in
the year 1813,800,000 men had been raised. Other
levies followed, and altogether 1,300,000 men were
summoned in one year. " Never," says a writer
of the time, "has any nation been thus asked
to let itself be voluntarily led to the slaughter-
house." Young men were torn from their wives
the day after marriage, from the bedside of a wife
in her confinement, from a dying father or sick
child. " Some looked so feeble that they seemed
dying;" and one-half of them died in the cam-
paign of 1814. Self-mutilation became common;
desertion still commoner. It had taken a long
time; but Napoleon had at length exhausted
France.

But Napoleon held out still; uncowed, un-
moved by these awful catastrophes.

" ' What do they want of me ? ' said he to M. de
Metternich. 'Do they want me to dishonour
myself? Never ! I can die, but never will yield
an inch of territory ! Your sovereigns born on the
throne may be beaten twenty times over and yet
return to their capitals. I cannot do this, because
I am a parvenu soldier. My dominion will not
survive the day when I shall have ceased to be
strong and, consequently, feared/ In fact, his
despotism in France is founded on his European
omnipotence; if he does not remain master of

F 2

68 Napoleon.

the continent, 'he must settle with the corps
tigislatif? . . .

" * I have seen your soldiers/ says Metternich
to him, 'they are children. When this army of
boys is gone, what will you do then ? ' At these
words, which touch his heart, he grows pale, his
features contract, and his rage overcomes him.
Like a wounded man who has made a false step
and exposes himself, he says violently to Metter-
nich : ' You are not a soldier ! You do not know
the impulses of a soldier's breast ! I have grown
up on a battle-field, and a man like me does not
care a for the lives of a million men.' "

Nor did he, for here is the final record of his
rule of France :

" Between 1804 and 1815 he has had slaughtered
1,700,000 Frenchmen, born within the boundaries
of ancient France, to which must be added,
probably, 2,000,000 of men born outside these
limits, and slain for him under the title of allies,
or slain by him under the title of enemies. All
that the poor enthusiastic and credulous Gauls
have gained by entrusting their public welfare to
him is two invasions ; all that he bequeaths to
them as a reward for their devotion, after this
prodigious waste of their blood and the blood of
others, is a France shorn of fifteen departments
acquired by the Republic, deprived of Saxony, of
the left bank of the Rhine, and of Belgium,
despoiled of the north-east angle by which it

Taine's Portrait. 69

completed its boundaries, fortified its most
vulnerable point, and, to use the words of
Vauban, 'made its field square,' separated from
4,000,000 of new Frenchmen which it had
assimilated after twenty years of life in common,
and, worse still, thrown back within the frontiers
of 1789, alone, diminished in the midst of its
aggrandized neighbours, suspected by all Europe,
and lastingly surrounded by a threatening circle
of distrust and rancour."

CHAPTER II.
THE ESTIMATE OF A WORSHIPPER.*

I HAVE not paused in my quotations from Taine
to point out where I think the author has been
unjust to Napoleon. As I have indicated, that
would be contrary to the rble I have given myself
of interpreter rather than critic. Besides, I am
about to give a picture of Napoleon drawn by
a -worshipper in immediate succession to this
tremendous indictment by an enemy ; and the
unbridled eulogy will be the best antidote to the
unsparing attack.

MENEVAL.

ANYBODY acquainted with Napoleonic literature
will know that Madame de Re"musat's Memoirs
form the groundwork of Taine's picture ; and
especially in those portions which describe life
at Napoleon's Court.

* Memoirs to serve for the history of Napoleon I. from
1802-1815. By B. de Meneval. Translated by N. H. Sherard.
(London : Hutchinson.)

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 71

I heard a clever Frenchman once, when dis-
cussing the famous Memoirs of Madame de
Remusat, quote what I thought an excellent
comment upon them. The Memoirs, said the
commentator, were clever, but they were the
Memoirs which might have been written by a
femme de chambre, " and I do not love domestics,"
added this critic, " who speak badly of their
masters." M. de Meneval was a servant of
Napoleon, but he does not speak badly of his
master. I cannot read these Memoirs — indis-
criminate in their praise, partial, uncritical, not
very luminous — I cannot read them without feeling
that Meneval was a downright good fellow. To
Meneval Napoleon is always the hero ; always
right, always high-minded, always unselfish, always
wronged. I need scarcely say that this is not the
view of Napoleon's character which even the most
benevolent student of his career can adopt; but
do you suppose I am going to find fault with our
good Meneval for this ? There are some people
who forgive anything to intellect ; my tendency
is to forgive anything to heart. I have always
regarded a good disposition as much more
.attractive than a good brain. And, then, I like
people who have the talent of admiration. Carlyle
exploded the doctrine that nobody is a hero to
his own valet, with the pertinent remark that
perchance that was the fault of the valet. For
my part, I always look with a certain suspicion on

72 Napoleon.

a man who has not the power of admiration. It
marks, I think, not a superiority, but an inferiority
of temperament.

ii.

A HERO WORSHIPPER.

OUR friend Meneval, as I have said, had the bump
of admiration in a remarkable degree. He would
perhaps have been a better writer of Memoirs if
he had been a less fervent worshipper ; but let us
forgive the good fellow for his defects in style
because of the pleasant impression he leaves of
himself. He was introduced to Napoleon by
Joseph Bonaparte. He was not very eager to
enter into the service of the great captain. " I did
not," he says, " feel myself at all capable of filling
the post for which he intended me, and confessed
that I feared the loss of my independence." But
it was of no avail :

" On the morning of the second of April Joseph
Bonaparte gave me a letter from General Duroc,
who wrote to tell me that the First Consul could
receive me at five o'clock in the afternoon of that
day. I was obliged to accept an invitation which
was really a command. General Duroc conducted
me to Madame Bonaparte, who received me with
exquisite grace and politeness. She was kind
enough to talk to me of the business which had
brought me to the Tuileries. I was encouraged
by her kindness to tell her the objections I felt

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 73

to a gilded chain. She succeeded in making me
agree to remain three years only with the First
Consul. I should be free to retire at the end of
that time, and she assured me that the First
Consul would reward me with an honourable post,
and further undertook to gain his consent to this
arrangement. I mention this circumstance to
show with what cleverness she could enter into
the feelings of others, and appear to share their
illusions. On reflection I had no reason to hope
that the First Consul would agree to a bargain
of this kind, or would, indeed, approve of my
dictating terms. Madame Bonaparte did me the
honour to say that I must be her guest at dinner
that night. A moment after Madame Louis
Bonaparte entered the drawing-room, and the
conversation became general. In the meanwhile
time was passing."

in.

NAPOLEON APPEARS.

AND now Napoleon makes his appearance. His
entrance, like everything else this strange creature
does, is effective :

" At last, at about seven o'clock, the sound of
hurried steps on the staircase, which led to the
room in which we were sitting, announced the
arrival of the First Consul. Madame Bonaparte
introduced me to him. He condescended to
receive me with a kindness which at once dissi-

74 Napoleon.

pated the respectful awe in which I stood. He
walked rapidly into the dining-room, whither I
followed Madame Bonaparte and her daughter.
Madame Bonaparte made me sit next her. The First
Consul spoke to me several times during dinner,
which only lasted twenty minutes. He spoke of
my studies, and of Palissot, with a kindness and
a simplicity which put me entirely at my ease, and
showed me how gentle and simple this man, who
bore on his forehead and in his eyes the mark of
such imposing superiority, was in his private life.
When I returned to the drawing-room we found
General Davoust. The First Consul walked up
and down the room with him, conversing, and a
quarter of an hour later disappeared by the stair-
case from which he had come, without having
spoken to me on the matter for which he had
ordered my attendance."

This whole picture is so like Napoleon ; the
hurried entrance, the equally hurried dinner, and
then the resumption immediately after of the
interrupted threads of work. Let us go on :

" I remained with Madame Bonaparte until
eleven o'clock. I had asked her to be so good as
to tell me whether I should go away, thinking that
I had been forgotten. She told me to remain, and
assured me that the First Consul would send for
me. True enough, a footman came to fetch me.
I followed him down a long passage to a staircase
by which we reached a little door, at which he

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 75

knocked. There was a wicket in this door, which
I examined with curiosity. My state of mind was
such that I seemed to be outside the place of
eternal imprisonment, and involuntarily I raised
my eyes to see whether I could not read over the
door that inscription of Dante's, ' Lasciate ogni
speranza voi chy entrate' An usher, who had
looked through the wicket, opened the door after
some words with the footman, and I was shown
into a small drawing-room poorly lighted. Whilst
I was being announced I cast a rapid glance around
the room, being anxious to acquaint myself with
what was to be my prison. The furniture con-
sisted of some chairs covered with green morocco,
and a very luxurious roll-top writing-table, which
was loaded with gilt bronze ornaments, and inlaid
with rosewood mosaics representing various musical
instruments. I afterwards learned that these
pieces of furniture had belonged to Louis XVI.
It was subsequently sent to the garde meuble as
useless. A low book-case ran round one side
of the room. Some papers were scattered on
the top."

IV.

M£NEVAL STARTS WORK.

" I WAS announced, and immediately afterwards
was ushered into a room, where I saw the First
Consul seated behind a writing-table. A three-
branched flambeau, covered with a shade, cast

76 Napoleon.

a strong light on the table. The rest of the
room was in the shade, broken only by the
light from the fire on the hearth. The First
Consul's back was towards me, and he was
occupied in reading a paper, and finished
reading it without taking notice of my entrance.
He then turned round on his chair towards me.
I had remained standing at the door of his
cabinet, and on seeing him turn round I ap-
proached him. After having examined me for
a moment with a piercing glance, which would
have greatly intimidated me if I had seen it
then for the first time, he told me that he
wished to attach me to his service, and asked
me if I felt myself strong enough to undertake
the task which he proposed to confide to me.
I answered him with some embarrassment, with
the commonplace remark that I was not very
sure of myself, but that I would do all in my
power to justify his confidence. I kept my
objections to myself, because I knew that he
would not like them, and, besides, the way in
which he had received me at dinner had con-
siderably weakened them. He did not seem
dissatisfied with my answer, for he rose from
his seat and came up to me smiling, rather
sardonically, it is true, and pulled my ear, which
I knew to be a sign of favour. He then said
to me, ' Very well, come back to-morrow morning
at seven, and come straight here.' That was all

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 77

the [[conversation which preceded my admission
into [this sanctuary, which I pictured as a sort
of place from which nothing but invisible oracles
proceeded, accompanied by lightning and thunder.
Such was the very simple investiture by which
I received a post, the responsibility of which
seemed so terrible that, when it was proposed
to me, I could only think of it with terror.
After this short audience, and this laconic dia-
logue, the First Consul made a sign with his
hand which I took for an order to withdraw,
and left me to go into an adjoining drawing-
room, where no doubt, some business awaited
him. Slightly reassured by the simplicity of
this commencement I went back the way I had
come, preceded by my guide, who had waited
for me outside the door. Nothing but solitude
and silence reigned in the dimly-lighted corridors
through which I passed. I met nobody on my
way out, except a sentry placed at the gate of the
inner court."

v.

FIRST DICTATION.

OUR poor Meneval, who was then only twenty-
four years of age, went home to bed, but had a
sleepless night. He was probably relieved when
the night was over, for, as he goes on to say :

"I got up before daybreak, and made my
way to the Tuileries, arriving there before the

78 Napoleon.

appointed hour. I rather feared that I should
not be able to find my way in the intricacies ,of
the palace, and that I should have difficulty in
explaining to the sentries who I was, and was
very much surprised at the ease with which I
made my way to the door through which I had
passed the previous evening, and which I recog-
nised by the wicket in it. As soon as he saw
me the usher showed me into the cabinet, which
was empty. The First Consul was in his drawing-
room with the Minister of Finance, M. Gaudin,
who afterwards became Due de Gae'te. I sat
down at a table which stood in the embrasure
of a window, and waited for nearly two hours
for the return of the First Consul. He arrived
at last, holding a paper in his hand. Without
appearing to pay any attention to my presence
in his study, just as if I had always been there,
and had always occupied the same place, he
dictated a note for the Minister of Finance
with such volubility that I could hardly under-
stand or take down half of what he was dictating.
Without asking me whether I had heard him
or whether I had finished writing, he took the
paper away from me, and would not let me
read it over, and on my remarking that it was
an unintelligible scribble, he said it was on a
matter well known to the Minister, who would
easily be able to make it out, and so saying,
he went back to the drawing-room. I never

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 79

knew if M. Gaudin was able to decipher my
writing. I feared that the paper might be sent
back to me, and that I might be asked to
explain what I had written, which would have
been quite impossible. I never heard any more
about it."

VI.

A PORTRAIT OF NAPOLEON.

M&NEVAL had little more to do on this eventful
day of his life, and pauses to give us a portrait
of Napoleon as he then was. The date, it will
be remembered, was 1802, and Napoleon was
still First Consul :

" Napoleon was at that time moderately stout.
His stoutness was increased later on by the
frequent use of baths, which he took to refresh
himself after his fatigues. It may be mentioned
that he had taken that habit of bathing himself
every day at irregular hours, a practice which
he considerably modified when it was pointed
out by his doctor that the frequent use of hot
baths, and the time he spent in them, were
weakening, and would predispose to obesity.
Napoleon was of mediocre stature — about five feet
two inches — and well built, though the bust was
rather long. His head was big, and the skull
largely developed. His neck was short, and his
shoulders broad. The size of his chest bespoke
a robust constitution, less robust, however, than

So Napoleon.

his mind. His legs were well-shaped, his foot
was small and well-formed. His hand, and he
was rather proud of it, was delicate and plump,
with tapering fingers. His forehead was high and
broad, his eyes gray, penetrating, and wonderfully
alert ; his nose was straight and well-shaped.
His teeth were fairly good, the mouth perfectly
modelled, the upper lip slightly drawn down
toward the corner of the mouth, and the chin
slightly prominent. His skin was smooth, and
his complexion pale, but of a pallor which denoted
a good circulation of the blood. His very fine
chestnut hair, which, until the time of the ex-
pedition to Egypt, he had worn long, cut square,
and covering his ears, was clipped short. The
hair was thin on the upper part of the head, and
left bare his forehead, the seat of such lofty
thoughts. The shape of his face and the ensemble
of his features were remarkably regular. In one
word, his head and his bust were in no way
inferior in nobility and dignity to the most
beautiful bust which antiquity has bequeathed
to us. Of this portrait, which in its principal
features underwent little alteration in the last
years of his reign, I will add some particulars
furnished by my long intimacy with him. When
excited by any violent passion his face assumed
an even terrible expression. A sort of rotary
movement very visibly produced itself on his
forehead and between his eyebrows; his eyes

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 81

flashed fire; his nostrils dilated, swollen with
the inner storm. But these transient move-
ments, whatever their cause may have been, in
no way brought disorder to his mind. He
seemed to be able to control at will these ex-
plosions, which, by the way, as time went on,
became less and less frequent. His head re-
mained cool. The blood never went to it, but
flowed back to the heart. In ordinary life his ex-
pression was calm, meditative, and gently grave.
When in a good humour, or anxious to please,
his expression was sweet and caressing, and his
face was lighted up by a most beautiful smile.
Amongst familiars his laugh was loud and
mocking."

At this period of his life, Napoleon, says
Meneval, "was in the enjoyment of vigorous
health." He had just been cured by Corvisart of
that cutaneous disease which he had contracted
from the gunner whose work he did at the siege
of Toulon. Napoleon had neglected at the time
to undergo treatment :

"In the carelessness of youth, and being
entirely absorbed in his work, he had neglected to
undergo any treatment. He contented himself
with some remedies which only caused the out-
ward signs of the disease to disappear, but the
poison had been driven into his system, and
caused great damage. This was the reason, it
was added, of the extreme thinness, and poor,

G

82 Napoleon.

weak look of Napoleon during the campaigns in
Italy and Egypt."

Mr. Sherard, the editor and translator of these
volumes, quotes appropriately here the statement
from Stendhal that a lady who met Napoleon
several times in April and May, 1795, spoke of
him as "the thinnest and queerest being I ever
met," and " so thin that he inspired pity."

VII.
NAPOLEON AT TABLE.

MfiNEVAL confirms what other writers have told
us of the Spartan simplicity of Napoleon's method
of daily life :

" He dined with Madame Bonaparte and with
some persons of his family. On Wednesdays,
which were the days of the Council, he kept the
Consuls and the Ministers to dinner. He lunched
alone, the simplest dishes being served, whilst
for drink he contented himself with Chambertin
diluted with water, and a single cup of coffee.
All his time being occupied, he profited by the
lunch hour to receive the people with whom he
liked to converse. These were generally men of
letters or artists."

As has already been seen, there were none of
the elaborate precautions around the Palace of the
Tuileries which in those stormy times one might
have expected in the case of a great ruler. There

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 83

were, nevertheless, plenty of conspiracies against
Napoleon's life. Napoleon had a "conviction of
the impotence of ... conspirators/' "a con-
viction produced either by his confidence in
his destiny, or by his contempt for danger."
But when at last an attempt was made to
Idll him by an infernal machine — which ex-
ploded a few seconds after his carriage had
passed, and wounded nearly eighty people —
lie for a time consented to precautions and
to rigorous measures. But this was not long
continued — he fell back into his usual feeling of
security, ceasing to trouble himself about the
dangers which might menace his person :

"He even listened with impatience to the
reports on this subject which were transmitted to
him by the police or by the persons around him ;
he needed all his calm ; he made no change in his
habits, and continued his work without allowing
himself to be turned aside from his path. When
I entered the Consular Palace, I did not see any
of those precautions which denote suspicion and
fear."

VIII.
LIFE AT MALMAISON.

AT La Malmaison Napoleon's life was even more
homely :

" He used to spend the hours which were not
taken up by work, exercise, or shooting, with

G 2

84 Napoleon.

Josephine. He used to lunch alone, and during
this repast, which was a relaxation for him, he
received the persons with whom he liked to con-
verse on science, art, and literature. He dined
with his family, and after dinner would look in at
his cabinet, and then, unless kept there by some
work, would return to the drawing-room and play
chess. As a general rule he liked to talk in a
familiar way. He was fond of discussions, but did
not impose his opinions, and made no pretension
of superiority either of intelligence or of rank.
When only ladies were present he liked to criticise
their dresses, or tell them tragical or satirical
stories — ghost stories for the most part. When
bed-time came Madame Bonaparte followed him
to his room. Napoleon wasted very little time in
preparing for the night, and used to say that he
got back to bed with pleasure. He said that
statues ought to be erected to the men who
invented beds and carriages. However, this bed
into which he threw himself with delight, though
often worn out with fatigue, was quitted more than
once during the course of the night. He used to
get up after an hour's sleep as wide awake and as
clear in his head as if he had slept quietly the
whole of the night. As soon as he had lain down
his wife would place herself at the foot of the bed,
and begin reading aloud. As she read very well
he took great pleasure in listening to her. At La
Malmaison Napoleon used to spend the moments

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 85

which were not taken up in his work-room in the
park, and there again his time was not wasted."

IX.

JOSEPHINE'S OCCUPATIONS.

M£NEVAL was fond of Josephine ; but this picture
he gives of her is not very flattering :

"Josephine spent her time as she chose. She
received numerous callers during the day. She
used to lunch with some friends, and with new
and old acquaintances. She had no accomplish-
ments, did not draw, and was not a musician.
There was a harp in her apartment on which
she used to play for want of anything better
to do, and it was always the same tune that
she played. She used to work at tapestry, and
would get her ladies or her visitors to help her.
In this way she had made the coverings for the
furniture in the drawing-room at La Malmaison.
Napoleon approved of this busy life. The re-
establishment of peace with England had allowed
Josephine to correspond with some English
botanists and the principal London nurserymen,
from whom she received rare and new plants and
shrubs to add to her collection. She used to
give me the letters from England, written in
connection with this business, to translate into
French. At La Malmaison, Josephine used to
visit her fine hothouses regularly and took great

86 Napoleon.

interest in them. In the evening she would take
the backgammon board, a game she was very
fond of, and which she played well and quickly.
Family theatricals were also played at La
Malmaison in a little theatre which accom-
modated about two hundred spectators. Eugene
Beauharnais, who excelled in footman's parts, and
his sister Hortense, were the principal actors, not
only by rank but by talent. . . . Napoleon was
regularly present at the performances, which con-
sisted of little comedies, and thoroughly amused
himself. He took pleasure in praising or criticising
the actors' performances. His remarks, which
were often words of praise, and which were always
interesting, showed what an interest he took in
these spectacles. On Sundays there were little
balls given, at which Napoleon used to dance.
He found a charm in this patriarchal life. In his
retreat at La Malmaison, Napoleon appeared like a
father in the midst of his family. This abnegation
of his grandeur, his simple and dignified manners,
the pleasing ways and gracious familiarity of
Madame Bonaparte had a great charm for me."

" There was a harp in her apartment on which
she used to play for want of anything better to do,,
and it was always the same tune that she played."
What a delightful picture of this strange, empty-
headed, frivolous, attractive creature ! I suppose
when Napoleon at twenty-six was paying court to
her, this harp did duty as an evidence of her

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 87

numerous accomplishments. Poor Josephine! She
made the most of herself; but why not ?

x.

MENEVAL CHARMED.

MENEVAL, it will seem, was a good deal happier in
his new position than he had expected :

" I could not conceal my surprise at finding
such simplicity of habits in a man like Napoleon,
who from afar seemed so imposing. I had ex-
pected to find him brusque, and of uncertain
temper, instead of which I found him patient,
indulgent, easy to please, by no means exacting,
merry with a merriness which was often noisy and
mocking, and sometimes of charming bonhomie.
This familiarity on his part did not, however,
awake corresponding familiarity. Napoleon played
with men without mixing with them. He desired
to put me entirely at my ease with him, from the
very first days of my service, and, in consequence,
from the very first I felt no embarrassment in his
presence. Doubtless he impressed me to some
extent, but I was no longer afraid of him. I
was fortified in this state of mind by all that
I saw of his pleasant and affectionate ways with
Josephine, the assiduous devotion of his officers,
the kindliness of his relations with the Consuls
and the Ministers, and his familiarity with the
soldiers."

88 Napoleon.

XI.

THE SHADOW OF A CRIME.

I MAKE a big skip in the Memoirs, and come
to a striking description of the day which followed
the execution of the Due d'Enghien :

" La Malmaison presented a sad spectacle that
day. I can still remember the silence which
reigned that evening in Madame Bonaparte's
drawing-room. The First Consul stood with his
back against the mantelpiece, whilst Madame de
Fontanes read from some book, of which I have
forgotten the name. Josephine, with a melancholy
look and moist eyes, was seated at the far end
of a couch; the persons in attendance, very few
in number at the time, had withdrawn into the
neighbouring gallery, where they conversed in
whispers on the topic which absorbed all minds.
Some people came from Paris, but struck by the
doleful appearance of the room, remained standing
at the door. The First Consul, anxious or pre-
occupied, or listening attentively to what Madame
de Fontanes was reading, did not appear to notice
their presence. The Minister of Finance remained
standing in the same place for a quarter of an
hour without being spoken to by anybody. Not
wishing to go away as he had come, he approached
the First Consul, and asked him if he had any
orders to give him; the Consul made a negative
gesture in reply."

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 89

XII.

NAPOLEON'S POWER OF WORK.

As time went on, and Napoleon became involve'd
in his great wars, the demands upon his energies
were greater. His power of work rose at once
to the exigencies of the new situation. Poor
Mdneval must have had a very hard time of it;
but he speaks of his experiences with a cheerful
fortitude which reveals the real loyalty and kindli-
ness of his nature. " His activity/' he says of
Napoleon, "grew in proportion to the obstacles
put in his way, and he sorely taxed my strength,
which was by no means equal to my zeal."

"To give an idea of how the gravity of the
situation had developed his faculties, and of the
increase in work which had resulted therefrom,
and that one may judge how his prodigious
activity was equal to everything, it is necessary
to acquaint the reader with the new order which
Napoleon had established in the despatch of his
numerous affairs. The Emperor used to have
me waked in the night, when, owing either to
some plan which he considered ripe for execution,
and which had to be carried out, or to the
necessity of maturing the preliminaries of some
new project, or to having to send off some courier
without loss of time, he was obliged to rise him-
self. It sometimes happened that I would hand

90 Napoleon.

him some document to sign in the evening. ' I
will not sign it now,' he would say. 'Be here
to-night at one o'clock, or at four in the morning ;
we will work together.' On these occasions I
used to have myself waked some minutes before
the appointed hour. As in coming downstairs
I used to pass in front of the door of his small
apartment, I used to enter to ask if he had been
waked. The invariable answer was, ' He has just
rung for Constant,' and at the same moment he
used to make his appearance, dressed in his white
dressing-gown, with a Madras handkerchief round
his head. When by chance he had got to the
study before me, I used to find him walking up
and down with his hands behind his back, or
helping himself from his snuff-box, less from taste
than from preoccupation, for he only used to
smell at his pinches, and his handkerchiefs were
never soiled with the snuff. His ideas developed
as he dictated, with an abundance and clearness
which showed that his attention was firmly riveted
to the subject with which he was dealing ; they
sprang from his head even as Minerva sprang,
fully armed, from the head of Jupiter. When the
work was finished, and sometimes in the midst of
it, he would send for sherbet and ices. He used
to ask me which I preferred, and went so far in
his solicitude as to advise me which would be
better for my health. Thereupon he would return
to bed, if only to sleep an hour, and could resume

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 91

his slumber as though it had not been interrupted.
The solid en cas of food which used to be brought
in at night at the Court before the Revolution,
were not supplied at Napoleon's Court, for the
Emperor had not inherited the enormous appetites
of the princes of the ancient dynasty; but one of
the Imperial cooks used to sleep near the larder
to serve such refreshments as might be asked
for in the night, and which were prepared in
advance."

Sometimes Napoleon would not wake his
zealous secretary ; as thus :

" When the Emperor rose in the night, without
any special object except to occupy his sleepless
moments, he used to forbid my being waked before
seven in the morning. On those occasions I used
to find my writing-table, in the morning, covered
with reports and papers annotated in his writing.
On his return from his levee, which was held at
nine o'clock, he used to find, on his return to his
cabinet, the answers and decisions which he had
indicated drawn up and ready to be sent off/'

" I never ceased to find him good, patient, and
indulgent in his treatment of me," says Meneval,
after he has told the story of the one row he ever
had with his great master.

92 Napoleon.

XIII.
NAPOLEON IN HIS STUDY.

M£NEVAL is most interesting when he describes
Napoleon in his study. There it was that the two
saw most of each other ; there Meneval is supreme
as an authority. When Meneval speaks about
general politics, he is nothing but a blind partisan ;
he retains throughout the curious misunderstanding
of the English character and the English policy
which created the master passion and the master
mistake of Napoleon's mind and career; and all
our poor Meneval has to say on these subjects may
be skipped and dismissed. But when he brings
us to the presence and to the side of the great man,
he becomes once again fascinating. For instance,
can you not see — nay, actually hear — Napoleon
pacing up and down his study as you read this
sketch ?

"When some lengthy answer was rendered
necessary by the reading of a report or despatch ;
when some spontaneous idea was suggested to him
by his observations or comparisons ; or when this
idea having sprung up in his mind, elaborated by
his meditations, had reached its maturity, and the
moment to set it in motion had arrived, Napoleon
could not keep still. He could not, like the
pythoness, remain attached to his tripod. He
collected his thoughts, and concentrated his

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 93

attention on the subject which was occupying him,
taking a strong hold on his mind. He would rise
slowly, and begin to walk slowly up and down the
whole length of the room in which he found
himself. This walk lasted through the whole of
his dictation. His tone of voice was grave and
accentuated, but was not broken in upon by
any time of rest. As he entered upon his subject,
the inspiration betrayed itself. It showed itself by
a more animated tone of voice, and by a kind
of nervous trick which he had of twisting his
right arm and pulling at the trimmings of his
sleeve with his hand. At such times, he did not
speak any faster than before, and his walk remained
slow and measured."

XIV.
NAPOLEON AS A MAN OF LETTERS.

THE extracts which I have given from Taine's
sketch of Napoleon will have removed from the
minds of my readers the idea — if ever they had it
— that Napoleon was simply the inarticulate or the
reticent soldier. Frenchmen themselves are also
learning to have a new conception in this respect
of Napoleon. Some time ago I heard M.
Jusserand, the brilliant and well-informed editor
of the French Men of Letters Series, speak of a
projected book on Napoleon as a Man of Letters.
I have no doubt that when the book comes to be

94 Napoleon.

written, it will be found that Napoleon is entitled
to as high a place in literature as Caesar.

Here is a very vivid picture of him as he im-
provises :

" He had no difficulty in finding words to
express his thoughts. Sometimes incorrect, these
very errors added to the energy of his language,
and always wonderfully expressed what he wished
to say. These mistakes were not, moreover, in-
herent to his composition, but were created rather
by the heat of his improvisation. Nor were they
frequent, and were only left uncorrected when, the
despatch having to be sent off at once, time was
short. In his speeches to the Senate and to the
Legislative Body ; in his proclamations ; in his
letters to sovereigns, and in the diplomatic notes
which he made his Ministers write, his style was
polished and suited to the subject."

Meneval confirms Taine's statement as to the
excessive nervous irritability which prevented
Napoleon from writing with his own hand.
Rarely, if ever, could he be got to do so.

" Writing tired him; his hand could not
follow the rapidity of his conceptions. He only
took up the pen when by chance he happened
to be alone, and had to put the first rush of
an idea on to paper; but after writing some
lines he used to stop and throw away his pen.
He would then go out to call his secretary, or,
in his absence, either the second secretary, or

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 95

the Secretary of State, or General Duroc, or
sometimes the aide-de-camp on duty, according
to the kind of work in which he was engaged.
He made use of the first who answered his
call without irritation, but rather with a visible
satisfaction at being relieved from his trouble.
His writing was a collection of letters un-
connected with each other and unreadable. Half
the letters to each word were wanting. He could
not read his own writing again, or would not
take the trouble to do so. If he was asked for
some explanation he would take his draft and
tear it up, or throw it into the fire, and dictate
it over again — the same ideas, it is true, but
couched in different language and a different
style."

xv.
NAPOLEON'S ORTHOGRAPHY.

NAPOLEON, like other great men, had curious
and almost unaccountable intellectual hiatuses.
He was not correct in spelling — he was not perfect
in arithmetic.

" Although he could detect faults in the
spelling of others, his own orthography left
much to be desired. It was negligence which
had become a habit; he did not want to break
or tangle the thread of his thoughts by paying
attention to the details of spelling. Napoleon
also used to make mistakes in figures, absolute

96 Napoleon.

and positive as arithmetic has to be. He could
have worked out the most complicated mathe-
matical problems, and yet he could rarely add
up a sum correctly. It is fair to add that these
errors were not always made without intention.
For example, in calculating the number of men
who were to make up his battalions, regiments,
or divisions, he always used to increase the sum
total. One can hardly believe that in doing so
he wanted to deceive himself, but he often thought
it useful to exaggerate the strength of his armies.
It was no use pointing out any mistake of this
kind ; he refused to admit it, and obstinately
maintained his voluntary arithmetical error. His
writing was illegible, and he hated difficult writing.
The notes or the few lines that he used to write,
and which did not demand any fixed attention,
were, as a rule, free from mistakes of spelling,
except in certain words over which he invariably
blundered. He used to write, for instance, the
words ' cabinet,' 'Caffarelli/— 'gabinet,' ' Gaffarelli ' ;
' enfin que/ ' enfant que,' — ' infanterie/ ' enfanterie.'
The first two words are evidently reminiscences
of his maternal language, the only ones which
remained over from his earliest youth. The
others, ' enfin que ' and ' infanterie,' have no
analogy with the Italian language. He had a
poor knowledge of this language, and avoided
speaking it. He could only be brought to speak
it with Italians who did not know French, or who

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 97

had difficulty in expressing themselves in our
language. I have sometimes heard him con-
versing with Italians, and what he said was
expressed in Italianised French with words ter-
minating in i, o, and a."

xvr.

LAPSES.

IN Meneval Napoleon appears, as we have seen,
as the most persistent and unsparing of workers.
But there are very curious glimpses of Napoleon
at intervals when that terrible brain was not
working — or at least apparently not working — at
its usual high pressure :

" He used sometimes to spend whole days
without doing any work, yet without leaving the
palace, or even his work-room. In these days of
leisure — which was but apparent, for it usually con-
cealed an increase of cerebral activity — Napoleon
appeared embarrassed how to spend his time.
He would go and spend an hour with the Empress,
then he would return and, sitting down on the
settee, would sleep, or appear to sleep, for a few
minutes. He would then come and seat himself
on the corner of my writing-table, or on one of
the arms of my chair, or sometimes even on my
knees. He would then put his arm round my
neck and amuse himself by gently pulling my ear,
or by patting me on the shoulder, or on the cheek.

H

98 Napoleon.

He would speak to me on all sorts of disconnected
subjects, of himself, of his manias, of his consti-
tution, of me, or of some plan that he had in his
head. He was fond of teasing, never bitterly or
nastily, but on the contrary with a certain amount
of kindness, and accompanied with loud laughter.
He would glance through the titles of his books,
saying a word of praise or blame on the authors,
and would linger with preference over the tragedies
of Corneille and Voltaire. He would read tirades
from these tragedies aloud, then would shut
up the book and walk up and down reciting
verses from 'The Death of Caesar.' . . . When
he was tired of reading or reciting, he would
begin to sing in a strong, but false voice. When
he had nothing to trouble him, or he was
pleased with what he was thinking about, it
was shown in the choice of his songs. These
would be airs from ' Le Devin du Village/
or other old operas. . . . When he was in a
more serious frame of mind, he used to sing
verses from the Revolutionary hymns and chants,
such as the Chant du Depart : i Veillons au salut
de V Empire^ "

XVII.
WAS NAPOLEON SUPERSTITIOUS?

M£NEVAL says emphatically, No ; though he does
admit that Napoleon was something of a fatalist.
Josephine, being a Creole, was of course intensely

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 99

superstitious, and Meneval suggests that a good
deal of the money she threw away so recklessly
went into the pockets of Madame Lenormand, the
famous conjurer of the period. If Napoleon, as
is reported, ever did pay Lenormand a visit in
Josephine's company, it was at the period when
he was too much in love with Josephine to refuse
even her most unreasonable request. But Napoleon
retained from his early days the " habit of in-
voluntarily signing himself with the cross, on
hearing of some great danger ; or on the discovery
of some important fact, where the interests of
France or the success of his plans were concerned,
or at the news of some great and unexpected good
fortune, or of some great disaster."

But though Napoleon believed in his star, he
never trusted much to luck.

" He was always prepared in advance for every
reverse he might meet."

" Before finally deciding upon his plans he would
subject them to the minutest scrutiny ; every
hazard, even the most improbable, being discussed
and provided for. I saw Napoleon enjoying
prosperity with the keenest pleasure, but I never
once saw him betray any surprise. His measures
were so well taken, and adverse chances so
minimised by his calculations and arrangements,
that if anything could have surprised him, it would
have been the failure of plans which he had
prepared with so much skill and so much care."

H 2

100 Napoleon.

XVIII.
CURIOUS CHARACTERISTICS.

NAPOLEON'S constitution, Meneval declares, was
" naturally robust ; and the oath which he had
taken from his youth to break off all bad habits
had fortified it. He had all the advantages of the
bilio-sanguine temperament."

" I never saw Napoleon ill ; he was only
occasionally subject to vomiting bile, which never
left any after effects. ... He had feared, for some
time, that he was affected with a disease of the
bladder . . . but this fear was found to be without
foundation. It has been noticed that men are
rarely really suffering from the disease with which
they imagine themselves to be affected. The
existence of the disease which killed the Emperor
was not suspected at that time, and I never heard
him complain of pains in the stomach."

But like many robust people, Napoleon was
extremely sensitive in certain respects. "The
slightest evil smell was sufficient to upset him
greatly," and he had " so keen a sense of smell
that he could detect the vicinity of a subterranean
passage, a cellar, or a sewer, a long way off."

Here is an even more peculiar instance of his
sensitiveness :

" He had been anxious to gain some acquaint-
ance with anatomy, and for this purpose Doctor

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 101

Corvisart had brought him some anatomical models
in wax, representing parts of the heart and
stomach. The Emperor had set aside the hour
which followed his luncheon for this study, but the
illusion produced by the attention given to jtm&G
parts of our animal organisation filled "hini\ with
such disgust that it used to make him sick. He
tried in vain to resist this revolt of his senses, but
he was forced to give up his lessons. Nevertheless,
the same man, riding over a field of battle after
a bloody fight, was not disgusted by the contact
of wounds of disgusting appearance and odour.
He often used to get off his horse and place his
hand on the chest of the wounded man to see
whether he still breathed ; he would raise him up,
with the help of his officers, and put to his lips
a bottle of brandy, which his servant Roustan
always carried with him."

Finally, as to Napoleon's physiognomy, here
is a curious fact which I see recorded for the first
time:

"When his coffin was opened at St. Helena,
twenty years after it was closed down, Napoleon
appeared to be sleeping. His teeth had preserved
their whiteness, his beard and nails seemed to
have grown since his death. His hands had the
colour of life — they were supple, and resisted
pressure."

iO2 Napoleon.

XIX.
s ? DAILY HABITS.

NAPOLEON, though he came from Corsica, and
•though he was the ruler of a nation which even
yet leaves something to be desired in the practice
of and provision for the bath, was extremely careful
as to his personal cleanliness. All his intimates
have called attention to his constant habit of
taking hot-water baths — almost of boiling heat —
whenever and wherever he could. Ultimately, as
Me"neval has recorded, he had to abandon this
habit because it tended to increase the inclination
to obesity which came to him after his fortieth
year, and which, by the way, helped to change
the whole face of the world by seriously diminish-
ing his powers of work and of immediate decision.
Here is Mdneval's description of his daily toilet :

" He used to brush his arms and his broad
chest himself. His valet finished by rubbing him
very vigorously on the back and shoulders ; but
he often used to make Roustan, who was much
stronger, do this for him. He formerly used to
be shaved, but for a long time, that is to say, since
about 1803, he had shaved himself — after he had
changed his valet. A small mirror was held
before him, and turned as required in the process
of shaving. He then used to wash himself with a
great quantity of water in a silver basin which,

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 103

from its size, might have been taken for a vat.
A sponge dipped in Eau de Cologne was passed
over his hair, and the rest of the bottle was poured
over his shoulders. His flannel singlets, his vests
and pants of kerseymere, were changed every day.
He never gave up wearing his green or blue
uniform coats — the only coats he ever wore —
until he was told that they were beginning to
show signs of wear. His allowance for dress had
at first been fixed at sixty thousand francs; he
had reduced this amount to twenty thousand
francs, all included. He was fond of saying that
with an income of twelve hundred francs and
a horse he should have all he wanted. He often
referred to the times when he was an artillery
lieutenant, and delighted in speaking of the order
he put in his expenditure, and the economies
which he attempted to avoid getting into debt,
especially when the triumph of the English party
in Corsica had cut off all supplies from home, and
he had charge of his brother Louis, whom he was
bringing up and maintaining on his pay. At such
times he would censure the example of luxury
which his aides-de-camp and the principal officers
of his household gave to the officers of lower rank,
who were attached to his person. Nevertheless,
he liked to be surrounded with splendour and a
kind of pomp. He often used to say to those on
whom he lavished his money : ' Be economical and
even parsimonious at home ; be magnificent in

IO4 Napoleon.

public.' He followed this maxim himself. Nobody
was more modest in his dress, or less particular
about his food, and all that concerned him per-
sonally. He told me one day that when he was
quite a young officer he had sometimes travelled
from Paris to Versailles in what used to be called
the Court carriages, which were a kind of cheap
coach ; very comfortable, he used to add, and
where he met very nice people. Only it was
not a very expeditious way of travelling, for these
carriages took five hours to do the journey."

xx.

NAPOLEON IN THE FIELD.

ONE of the grand secrets of Napoleon's influence
with his army was the true spirit of camaraderie
which he introduced the moment he went into the
field. " In the camp," says Meneval, "all etiquette
was banished in the entirely military relations
between the sovereign and his comrades-in-arms :

" The private was authorised to leave the ranks,
on presenting arms, and to lay any request he
might have to make before the Emperor, either
verbally or in writing. Such requests, whether
they were granted or refused, were immediately
attended to by the Emperor. When it happened
that the petition could not be granted, the soldier
was always told the reason of such refusal, which
was explained to him with kindness. Very often

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 105

the refusal was compensated for by the grant of some
other favour. If any officer had a confession to
make to Napoleon, the Emperor was always ready
to hear him, and would listen to him in a paternal
manner."

It was one of the curiosities of this extra-
ordinary temperament, that even in the midst of
his campaigns Napoleon insisted on doing the
work, and it might even be said, all the work, of
civil administration at home. His Ministers had
to write to him every day ; he answered all their
reports, and a constant succession of messengers
were kept busy between him and Paris.

" Economical with his time, he calculated the
moment of his departure so as to find himself at
the head of his troops at the moment when his
presence there became necessary. He would then
proceed thither in his carriage in full speed. But
even during this journey he did not remain
idle, but busied himself in reading his despatches,
and very often received reports from his generals
and answered them forthwith. . . . By means of a
lamp which was placed at the back of his carriage,
and which lighted up the carriage during the
night, he was able to work as though he had been
in his work-room."

This picture of a great soldier on the way
to a bloody battle-field, and to the tremendous
issues of life and death, empire or disgrace, calmly
reading the details of administration, is certainly

io6 Napoleon.

one of the marvels of history. Let us follow
him to the battle-field :

"Such was the privileged constitution of this
extraordinary man that he could sleep an hour, be
awakened to give an order, go to sleep again, be
awakened anew, without suffering for it in his
health or in his rest. Six hours of sleep were
sufficient for him, whether taken consecutively or
whether spread over intervals in the twenty-four
hours. On the days which preceded the battle he
was constantly on horseback, reconnoitring the
enemy's forces, deciding upon the battle-field, and
riding round the bivouac of his army corps. Even
in the night he used to visit the lines to assure
himself once more of the enemy's forces by the
number of its fires, and would tire out several
horses in the space of a few hours. On the day of
the battle he would place himself at some central
point, whence he could see all that was going on.
He had his aides-de-camp and orderly officers by
him, and used to send them to carry his orders in
every direction. At some distance behind the
Emperor were four squadrons of the guard, one
belonging to each branch of the service, but when
he left this position he only took a platoon with him
as escort. He used usually to inform his Marshals
of the place which he had chosen, so as to be
easily found by the officers whom they might send
to him. As soon as his presence became necessary
he would ride off there at a gallop."

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 107

XXI.

THE DESCENT BEGUN.

I SHALL pass rapidly over much intervening
ground, and bring the reader to the days when
fortune had turned against Napoleon, and he sank,
never again to rise.

In the midst of the disastrous retreat from
Moscow, Napoleon for the first time thought of
suicide as an outlet from his troubles. He
feared above all things being taken prisoner
by the Czar, and being paraded as part of his
triumph :

" He asked his ordinary medical adviser, Doctor
Yvan, in consequence, to give him a dose of poison,
which was contained in a sachet which he could
carry round his neck, and which was to spare him
the humiliation of falling alive into the hands of
the Cossacks, and of being exposed to the insults
of these savages."

Napoleon carried the black taffeta sachet
around his neck until he reached Paris. Then, in
the midst of his cheerful surroundings, and of his
engrossing occupations, he laid it aside, depositing
it in one of his travelling bags. But 1814 came,
and Napoleon, ruined, deserted, lonely, at Fon-
tainebleau, remembered the sachet:

" One day, after having consulted Yvan on the
various means of putting .an end to one's life, he

io8 Napoleon.

drew out the sachet in question before the doctor's
eyes and opened it. Yvan, terrified by this action,
seized part of its contents and threw it into the
fire. It appears that on the morrow, a prey to
the blackest thoughts, despair seized upon the
Emperor's mind, and he rose without summoning
anybody, diluted the rest of the poison in a
goblet, and swallowed it. What remained of
this lethal substance was no doubt insufficient in
quantity or had been too much diluted to cause
death. On April n, 1814, towards eleven in the
evening, the silence of the palace of Fontainebleau
was suddenly disturbed by the sound of groans,
and the noise of comings and goings. The Dues
de Bassano and de Vicence, and General Bertrand,
rushed to the Emperor's side, whilst Yvan himself
was sent for. Napoleon was stretched out on a
sofa in his bedroom, with his head leaning on his
hands. He addressed himself to Doctor Yvan :
'Death will have nothing to do with me. You
know what I have taken.' Yvan, dumbfounded,
troubled, stammered, saying that he did not know
what His Majesty meant, that he gave him nothing ;
at last he lost his head altogether, and rushed out
of the room to throw himself into an arm-chair
in the adjoining room, where he had a violent fit
of hysterics. Napoleon passed a fairly quiet night.
On the morrow Doctor Yvan, M. de Turenne, and
others, presented themselves at the Emperor's
levee, and found him almost recovered from this

The Estimate of a Worshipper. 109

violent moral and physical shock. He was calm,
deeply sad, and deplored the unhappy state in
which he was leaving France. As to Doctor
Yvan, still troubled by the scene of the previous
night, and under the impression of the terror with
which Napoleon had filled him, he at once decided
to remain no longer in the palace. And so, on
leaving the levee, he rushed down into the court-
yard, and finding a horse tied to one of the gates,
jumped on its back and galloped away."

XXII.

Two scenes, finally, I shall quote in the closing
hours of the great Napoleon drama. Meneval
was attached to the person of Marie Louise for
some time after the abdication of the Emperor,
and only returned to France when Napoleon came
back from Elba and had again mounted the
throne. Honest Meneval gives a pathetic picture
of his last interview with the poor boy who had
inherited Napoleon's name :

"Before leaving, I went to take leave of the
young Prince at the Imperial Palace of Vienna.
It grieved me to notice his serious and even
melancholy air. He had lost that childish cheer-
fulness and loquacity which had so much charm in
him. He did not come to meet me as he was
accustomed to do, and saw me enter without

no Napoleon.

giving any sign that he knew me. One might
have said that misfortune was already beginning
its work on this young head, which a great lesson
of Providence had seemed to have adorned with
a crown on his entrance into life, so as to give a
fresh example of the vanity of human greatness.
He was like one of those victims destined for
sacrifice who are adorned with flowers. Although
he had already spent six weeks with the persons
to whom he had been confided, with whom I found
him, he had not yet got accustomed to them, and
seemed to look upon their faces, still strange to
him, with distrust. I asked him in their presence
if he had a message which I could take for him to
his father. He looked at me in a sad and signi-
ficant way, then gently freeing his hand from my
grasp, he withdrew silently into the embrasure of
a window some distance off. After having ex-
changed some words with the persons who were
in the drawing-room, I approached the spot to
which he had withdrawn, and where he was
standing looking on with an attentive air. As I
bent down to him to say farewell, struck with my
emotion, he drew me towards the window, and
looking at me with a touching expression, he
whispered to me: (M. Meva, you will tell him
that I am still very fond of him ! ' "

The Estimate of a Worshipper, in

XXIII.
A DOOMED MAN.

MfiNEVAL was not long with Napoleon without
discovering that Napoleon, after the return from
Elba, had lost his nerve, and knew he was a
doomed man :

" He told me . . . that in making his attempt
he had understood that he could appeal only to
the courage and patriotism of the nation and to
his sword. ' And for the rest/ he added, with a
melancholy smile, ' God is great and merciful/
All his words were stamped with a calm sadness
and a resignation which produced a great im-
pression upon me. I no longer found him
animated with that certainty of success which
had formerly rendered him confident and in-
vincible. It seemed as if his faith in his fortune,
which had induced him to attempt the very hardy
enterprise of his return from the island of Elba,
and which had supported him during his mira-
culous march through France, had abandoned
him on his entry into Paris."

Finally, after Waterloo, Meneval followed
Napoleon to Malmaison, the scene of his early
greatness and of his final overthrow :

" Walking one day with the Emperor in the
private garden which adjoined his cabinet, he
told me that he counted on me to follow him.
I had no other intention. As I needed a little

1 1 2 Napoleon.

time to put my affairs in order, I asked him
where I was to meet him. He told me that his
first intention had been to go to America, but
as there were some obstacles in the way of the
realisation of this plan, he intended to go and
live in England, and added that he meant to
insist on the rights which were enjoyed by every
English citizen. As I expressed some surprise
at this resolution, he exclaimed : ' Without that
condition I shall put myself at the head of affairs
again.' My surprise increased on hearing this
sudden revelation, and I could not help saying :
' But, sire, if such is your thought, do not wait
until the time has passed ; at some paces from
here devoted generals and a faithful army call
for you ; you are not a prisoner, I suppose ? '
' I have here/ he answered, ' a battalion of my
guard who would arrest Becker, if I said one
word, and would act as my escort. Young man/
he added, after a moment's silence, and with the
gesture of pulling my ear, 'such resolutions are
not improvised.' I then saw that the threat of
placing himself at the head of affairs had only
been torn from him by a flash of natural pride, and
that it had never really been in his thoughts. This
scene has remained engraved on my memory."

Meneval had to go back to Paris that night ;
when he was able to return to Malmaison, Na-
poleon had gone to Rochefort — his first milestone
on the road that ended in St. Helena — and
Meneval never saw him more.

CHAPTER III.
THE ESTIMATE OF AN OFFICIAL*

So much for the estimate of Napoleon by an
enemy and by a friend. Let us now take the
more impartial estimate of a somewhat frigid
official. While ready to do full justice to Napo-
leon's extraordinary genius as an administrator,
Chancellor Pasquier had not Me'neval's gift of
admiration. Before giving those portions of
Pasquier's memoirs which deal with Napoleon,
I shall quote several passages of Pasquier's early
life — partly because they are intensely interesting
in themselves, and partly because they help one
to understand the secret of Napoleon's long
tenure of power, by describing the anarchic con-
ditions to which his undisputed authority put
an end.

i.

THE PASQUIER DYNASTY.

THE Pasquiers had been a family of officials for
generations. They belonged to that curious and

* "Memoirs of Chancellor Pasquier." Translated by
Charles E. Roche. (London : Fisher Unwin.)

I

H4 Napoleon.

hereditary race of judicial officers, which is a
peculiarity of French official life. Young Pas-
quier, born in 1767, seemed destined to follow
in the same track as his ancestors — to pass
from office to office, from salary to salary —
through all the well-ordered gradations which
belong to such a class. But even in his early
years he found himself surrounded by the signs
of the coming strife. His mother, for instance,
had passed, like other people, under the spell of
the new gospel, preached by Jean Jacques
Rousseau* Like so many other great ladies of
the period, she had succeeded in obtaining
an interview with that rather morose and shy
philosopher by bringing him some music to copy,
and it was under the influence of Rousseau that
young Pasquier, while still an infant, was sent
half naked into the garden of the Tuileries;
"the result of this system," is his melancholy
comment, " was to make me one of the most
chilly of mortals."

n.

THE OLD REGIME.

THE Pasquiers had been able to acquire a pleasant
country place near Le Mans, and we have several
delightful glimpses of their career of prosperous
public employment, and of what the old life of the
provinces used to be before the storm burst. For
instance, here is a very instructive picture of that

The Estimate of an Official. 115

kind of prelate who helped to make life agreeable
for those who were prosperous, and still more
intolerable to those who were at the other end
of the social scale :

" The bishopric of Le Mans was one of those
most coveted. Its revenues were considerable ;
the episcopal palace was a very fine one, which
had, as a dependency, a charming country seat
about one league distant from the town. This
seat had for some time been occupied by prelates
of high birth, grave men who scrupulously fulfilled
the duties of their holy ministry. Upon its be-
coming vacant in the last years of the reign of
Louis XV., it was given to the Abbe7 Grimaldi,
a young ecclesiastic, the scion of a great house,
distinguished by his agreeable personality, his
intellect, and his remarkably graceful manner.
A very pleasant companion, he showed himself
capable of a devoted friendship to those whom
he honoured by selecting as his friends, and he
proved his judgment by the choice of the vicars-
general with whom he surrounded himself. They
were, generally speaking, younger sons whom
fortune had not favoured much, and who had
entered the Church merely as a way to a happier
condition of affairs. While on terms of friendship
with them during the years he spent at the
Seminary of Saint-Sulpice, he had promised
to summon them to his side as soon as he
should be a bishop. He made good his promise,

I 2

n6 Napoleon.

and on his arrival at Le Mans, he was accompanied
by a flock of vicars-general, who set the bishopric
on a footing entirely different from that to which
the people had hitherto been accustomed. They
contracted acquaintances in the various social
circles, specially attaching themselves to those
with whom they could enter into the most agree-
able relations. The bishop viewed this life of
excitement, if not with a complacent, at least
with a very indulgent eye. His pastoral ex-
cursions through his diocese were few and far
between, and long did he tarry in the chateaux
where he found society to his taste."

In the days before the Revolution, men
entered upon professional life at an early age.
At fifteen they entered either the army or navy ;
at twenty a man could be a well-instructed
officer in the engineers ; at twenty-one, could
enter the magistracy ; and it was at that age that
Pasquier entered as a Councillor into the Parlia-
ment of Paris. This was in January, 1787, just
about that moment when the distracted Councillors
of the King were beginning to think of some means
of rescuing the kingdom from bankruptcy; and
when Calonne was summoning the Assembly of
the Notables which was the forerunner of the
States General.

The Estimate of an Official. 117

in.

PARIS BEFORE THE STORM.

I WILL pass over M. Pasquier's account of those
conflicts between the old Parliament of Paris and
the Court which were among the first heralds of
the Revolution ; I go on to quote a passage which
is remarkable, though I do not think it can be
correct. One of the disputed points in French
history and in French political life to this hour, is
the state of France before the Revolution. One can
easily see why Conservatives are ready to proclaim
that the country was progressing; while the
Radical, who dates human progress from 1789,
should draw just as black pictures of the ante-
Revolutionary times. M. Pasquier was a Con-
servative, with certain Liberal leanings ; and to
that extent one must take his account as some-
what partial : but still here is his description, for
what it is worth, of the appearance of Paris just
before the breaking of the storm. The interest of
the picture is largely enhanced by the contrast it
suggests between Paris and its aristocracy in the
days which preceded and those which followed
the outbreak of the storm :

" I saw the splendours of the Empire. Since
the Restoration I see daily new fortunes spring up
and consolidate themselves ; still, nothing so far
has in my eyes equalled the splendour of Paris

n8 Napoleon.

during the years which elapsed between 1783 and
1789. Magnificent residences stood then in the
Marais quarter and in the He Saint-Louis. What is
the Faubourg Saint-Germain of to-day compared
with the Faubourg Saint-Germain of that period ?
And then with regard to outdoor luxury, let those
who can remember a field day or a race day at
Longchamps, or merely the appearance of the
boulevard, ask themselves if the stream of equi-
pages with two, four, or six horses, all vying in
magnificence, and closely packed together at these
places of rendezvous, did not leave far behind the
string of private or livery coaches, among which
appear a few well-appointed turn-outs, that are to
be seen in the same localities nowadays ? "

Similarly, Pasquier holds that the exactions of
the Crown, and the abuses of power, were much
exaggerated ; and summing up the answer to the
question, " Whence came that passion for reform,
that desire to change everything ? " he says, " it
was due rather to a great stirring up of ideas than
to actual sufferings.," a statement I can hardly
think correct. It is a statement, besides, in direct
conflict with Taine, another very strong Conserva-
tive writer, one of whose points against the
Revolution is the invasion of Paris by hordes of
hungry and desperate men. Hungry and desperate
men do not rush to a metropolis merely because
there is " a great stirring up of ideas."

The Estimate of an Official. 119

IV.
THE TAKING OF THE BASTILLE.

You will get some idea of all the momentous and
picturesque sights which Pasquier saw, from this
simple beginning of one of the chapters in his
book: "I was present at the taking of the
Bastille." His account differs very materially from
that which one has formed in one's mind of
that historic day. It makes the whole affair
rather a playful and light burlesque than a hideous
and portentous tragedy. Here is what M. Pasquier
says :

"What has been styled the fight was not
serious, for there was absolutely no resistance
shown. Within the stronghold's walls were
neither provisions nor ammunition. It was not
even necessary to invest it.

" The Regiment of Gardes Franqaises, which
had led the attack, presented itself under the walls
on the Rue Saint- Antoine side, opposite the main
entrance, which was barred by a drawbridge.
There was a discharge of a few musket-shots, to
which no reply was made, and then four or five
discharges from the cannon. It had been claimed
that the latter broke the chains of the drawbridge.
I did not notice this, and yet I was standing close
to the point of attack. What I did see plainly
was the action of the soldiers, the invalides, or

I2O Napoleon.

others grouped on the platform of the high tower,
holding their musket-stocks in air, and expressing
by all means employed under similar circumstances
their desire of surrendering.

"The result of this so-called victory, which
brought down so many favours on the heads of
the so-called victors, is well known. The truth is
that this great fight did not for a moment frighten
the numerous spectators who had flocked to
witness its result. Among them were many
women of fashion, who, in order to be closer to
the scene, had left their carriages some distance
away."

v.

THE GIRONDISTS.

PASQUIER saw the arrival of the Girondists in
Paris ; and it is interesting and pathetic to read
his account of the hopes with which these men
entered on their duties, when one knows how most
of them ended on the guillotine. Pasquier had a
friend in the Revolutionary party, a M. Ducos,
and M. Ducos induced him to remain to breakfast
with his fellow deputies from the Gironde. This
breakfast is very different from the last supper of
the Girondists with which history is familiar — the
supper before the wholesale execution of the
group :

" All of them were intoxicated with visions of
future successes, and they did not take the trouble

The Estimate of an Official. 121

•of hiding from me, although I had been introduced
to them as an out-and-out Royalist, if not their
plans, at least their ideas, which were of the
Republican order. I was none the less struck
with their madness. The eloquence of Vergniaud
made itself felt even in the course of ordinary
conversation, and it seemed to me destined to
become the most formidable weapon of the party
whose cause he was embracing."

VI.
THE ADVANCE OF THE STORM.

ONE of the curious things brought out in these
Memoirs, is the strength of the hold the King and
Queen had on many sections of the population,
even at the moment when they were steadily
advancing to their doom. Taine has proved
pretty conclusively that the Jacobins, at the
moment when they captured supreme power in
the State, were in a minority; Pasquier's testimony
tends to confirm this.

Here, for instance, is a scene in which the
Queen figured :

"During these last months, I saw the un-
fortunate Queen at a performance of Italian opera,
greeted with the cheers of a society audience
which was eager to give her such small consola-
tion. I saw this audience go wild when Madame
Dugazon sang with Mermier the ' Evtnements

122 Napoleon.

impr&vus* duo, which ends with the following
words, ' Oh, how I love my master ! Oh, how I
love my mistress ! ' And upon her return to the
Tuileries, there were those who did not hesitate
to tell her that she had just listened to a genuine
expression of the feelings of her subjects towards
her."

Pasquier plainly shows that indecision was
one of the main causes of the downfall of the
Throne. For instance, there was no proper
preparation for defending the Tuileries, though
there were plenty of gallant young men ready
to die in defending the entrance to the palace.
Pasquier himself was of the number, and he gives
a very vivid though brief picture of the dangers of
the period by the following anecdote :

" The King had still at his disposal a regiment
of the Swiss Guards and a few battalions of the
National Guard, whose loyalty was undoubted.
These ready means of defence were increased by
a number of devoted followers, to whom free
access to the chateau had been granted, and who
had firmly resolved to make a rampart of their
bodies in defence of the Royal Family.

" Together with the Prince de Saint-Maurice I
resolved upon joining this faithful band. On the
morning of August Qth we wrote to M. de Champ-
cenetz to ask him for cards of admission. They
had not reached us by evening, and during the night
between August 9th and loth we made several

The Estimate of an Official. 123

vain attempts to get into the chateau, which was
then being threatened. If I make a note of this
fact it is not because of its actual importance, but
because of a couple of circumstances pertaining
thereto, one of which was of a fatal nature, while
the other was fortunate to a degree. The card
which I had asked for on August Qth reached me
by the local post two days later, when all was over.
How was it that it should have been so long
delayed in transmission without being intercepted ?
How was it that it did not then bring about my
arrest ? It was a piece of good luck which I have
never been able to explain. Fate was not equally
kind to the Prince de Saint-Maurice. His readi-
ness to serve the King had no other result than
mine, with the exception that his card did not
reach him, and that he never discovered any trace
of it. He lost his head on the scaffold, under the
accusation of having been one of the defenders of
the Tuileries."

VII.
A NARROW ESCAPE.

THE following picture gives even a more vivid
glimpse of the perils which every friend of the
Old Order ran at this period. It took place after
the King had been compelled to take refuge in
the Assembly :

" The inevitable consequences of this event
were a fearful state of confusion and an actual

124 Napoleon.

dissolution of society. No longer did any one
feel safe. No one expected to see the next
day. My own safety was most seriously com-
promised by an imprudent detail of costume. On
the morning of the nth I made the mistake of
going out with my hair trimmed and gathered up
with a comb. I had forgotten that this mode
of wearing the hair formed part of the uniform
of the Swiss Guards. This slight indication was
sufficient for two or three hundred angry men
to pounce upon me on the Boulevard de la
Madeleine. I was unable to make myself heard,
and so was dragged to the Place Vendome, where
the mob was stringing up to lamp-posts all the
Swiss and other fugitives from the chateau they
could lay their hands on.

" I was rescued by a little drummer of the
precinct who recognised me. It was he who was
in the habit of notifying me when it was my turn
to go on guard duty, and as I never answered
the call, I was in the habit of paying him some-
what liberally for finding a substitute for me. He
fought his way into the midst of the raving horde,
commanded silence by a vigorous beating of the
drum, shouted that I was not a Swiss, and gave
my name and place of residence. On the strength
of his testimony I was escorted home in triumph."

The Estimate of an Official. 125

VIII.
A TERRIBLE PLAN.

THE fanaticism of the Revolutionary party — the
strange mixture of the exaltation and self-sacrifice
of a religious faith, and of a readiness to appeal to
the most unscrupulous means for gaining their
ends — all this is brought out by the following
story. If we did not know what times these were,
the story would be incredible; as it is, M. Pasquier
only confirms what has appeared in the memoirs
of the Revolutionary leaders. This is his story
of an interview with his Revolutionary friend,
Ducos :

" In the exultation of his triumph he revealed
everything, and he told me a thing which the
'Memoirs of Madame Roland ' have since con-
firmed, namely, the resolution reached at one of
their caucuses to sacrifice one of their number, and
to have him murdered, in order to impute his
assassination to the Court, if no other means were
forthcoming to excite the people against it. One
Grangeneuve, I believe, had offered to sacrifice his
life, and was to be the victim."

IX.
THE DEATH OF THE KING.

PASQUIER saw the execution of the King — unwill-
ingly and accidentally. This is what happened :

126 Napoleon.

" I lived in a house which faced on the Boule-
vard at the corner of the Madeleine Church. My
father and I sat opposite each other all the
morning buried in our grief, and unable to utter
a word. We knew the fatal procession was
wending its way by the Boulevards. Suddenly
a somewhat loud clamour made itself heard. I
rushed out under the idea that perhaps an attempt
was being made to rescue the King. How could
I do otherwise than cherish such a hope to the
very last? On reaching the goal I discovered
that what I had heard was merely the howling
of the raving madmen who surrounded the vehicle.
I found myself sucked in by the crowd which
followed it, and was dragged away by it, and, so
to speak, carried and set down at the scaffold's
side. So it was that I endured the horror of this
awful spectacle.

" Hardly had the crime been consummated
when a cry of * Long live the nation ! ' arose from
the foot of the scaffold, and, repeated from man
to man, was taken up by the whole of the vast
concourse of people. The cry was followed by the
deepest and most gloomy silence ; shame, horror,
and terror were now hovering over the vast locality.
I crossed it once more, swept back by the flood
which had brought me thither. Each one walked
along slowly, hardly daring to look at another.
The rest of the day was spent in a state of pro-
found stupor, which spread a pall over the whole

The Estimate of an Official. 127

city. Twice was I compelled to leave the house,
and on both occasions did I find the streets
deserted and silent. The assassins had lost
their accustomed spirit of bravado. Public grief
made itself felt, and they were silent in the face
of it."

x.

THE REIGN OF TERROR.

ONE cannot help breathing hard while reading,
amid all its baldness, many passages of this work,
and especially those which give us pictures of
the Reign of Terror. Poor young Pasquier had
abundant opportunity of realising all the perils
of that terrible time. Nearly all the old members
of the Paris Parliament were classed as aristocrats
and reactionaries ; and to have been one of them,
unless Revolutionary fervour or atrocities came as
a defence and an obliteration, amounted to a
certainty of imprisonment, and an almost equal
certainty of condemnation and death.

Pasquier's father was arrested with many of
his colleagues, and was ultimately guillotined.
Nothing can give a better idea of the horrors
of the time than the simple narrative which
Pasquier unfolds of his father's and his own
adventures at this epoch. Here, for instance, is
a curious picture of the state of mind which
constant peril produced — the feeling that im-

128 Napoleon.

prisonment was more welcome than liberty — a
gaol safer than any other refuge :

" My father and I, therefore, went in different
directions after a fond embrace, and with hardly
the strength of uttering a word. We were
never to meet again. I returned to Champigny.
My father hid himself at La Muette, where he
had dwelt during the course of the previous
summer. Two days later he gave himself up,
fearing that my mother might be arrested in
his stead. Hardly was he within the walls
of his prison, which had as inmates M. de
Malesherbes, all the members of the Rosambo
family, and a large number of his friends, when
he experienced a feeling of relief. Indeed,
outside of prison, one dared not meet, see,
speak, nay, almost look at anybody, so great
was the fear of mutually betraying each other.
Relatives and the most intimate friends dwelt
apart in the most absolute isolation. A knock
at the door, and one supposed at once that the
commissioners of the Revolutionary Committee
had come to take one away. When once behind
the bolts it was different. One found oneself,
in a certain sense, once more enjoying social
life, for one was in the midst of one's relations,
of one's friends, whom one could see without
hindrance, and with whom one could freely
converse. The great judicial massacres (I am
speaking of the month of January, 1794) had

The Estimate of an Official. 129

not yet taken place. Few days, however, went
by without some victims, but the number of
those behind the bars was so great, that to each
one of them all danger seemed somewhat distant;
and lastly, no sooner were many of them in gaol
than they ended in believing that they were safer
there than out of doors. One could no longer
(so at least they imagined) accuse them of
conspiring; and, were the foreign armies to
make great progress, as there were good grounds
for supposing, they would while in prison be
more out of the reach of popular frenzy than
'elsewhere. So powerful a hold did these im-
pressions take on the mind of my father, that
having a few days later found the means of
reaching me by letter, he urged me to reflect
upon my situation, to well consider if the life
that I was leading, and which he knew from
experience, was not a hundred times worse than
his own. Then, assuming that I would determine
to get myself arrested, he informed me of an
agreement that he had entered into with the
porter of the prison to reserve for him alone,
for a few days longer, the room which he
occupied, so that we could dwell together."

XI.
ANOTHER NARROW ESCAPE.

BUT young Pasquier did not take this advice,
and kept himself in hiding. However, he was

K

130 Napoleon.

not always to remain concealed, for if he did
so he would have been denounced as an emigre,
and his father, as the parent of an emigre, would
have been more certain than ever of condemnation ;
and so, says Pasquier, " I was compelled to send
to my mother, every three months, certificates
of residence, which she might produce in case
of need." Let me pause for a moment in my
extracts to point out how the beauty, devotion,
self-sacrifice of French family life shine out in
all the darkness of those hideous times. It is
well to note the fact amid so much that is corrupt,
unwholesome, and perilous in French society, that
this beautiful ideal of a united and affectionate
home has been preserved. Unhappy and hopeless,
indeed, would France be if that pillar and ground-
work of her national safety were imperilled or
weakened.

Young Pasquier found several friends who
were willing to conceal him during this period,
and to run considerable risks in doing so. These
friends also managed to get him the precious
certificates, which protected both himself and
his father. Several witnesses were required, and
a Madame Tavaux, a mercer, who lived close to
the house of the Pasquier family, and had been
befriended by them, was the chief agent in getting
these witnesses. Here is what happened one day :

" The greater number of those whom she
thus brought together had no acquaintance with

The Estimate of an Official. 131

me whatever, and yet, on her mere word, they
ventured to compromise themselves in the most
dangerous fashion, so as to get me out of my
difficulty. Thus did I reap the fruit of a few
slight services rendered by my people in other
days."

" I had just secured one of the precious
certificates of residence which I had so eagerly
sought. It had been granted to me by the
General Assembly of the section, held in the
church of the Trinite. I was about to depart
when a little man approached me, and drew
me aside under the pretence of saying a few
words. I followed him without fear, believing
him one of the witnesses procured on my behalf
whom I did not know. He turned out to be a
member of the Revolutionary Committee, and
without further ado he handed me over to a
guard close by. The latter was ordered to take
me before the Committee, and I remained in his
custody until the members of it had assembled.
No sooner had I been questioned than it became
an easy matter for them to elicit the fact that
I was an ex-Councillor of the Paris Parliament,
and that my father was already under arrest.
There was consequently no room for doubt that
I was a good capture, and I was notified, in
spite of all my protestations, that I was to be
taken to the Luxembourg prison."

K 2

132 Napoleon.

XII.
A RESCUING ANGEL.

AND then came a scene which is probably only
possible in France. Whatever may be going on
there — farce, comedy, the high tension of tragedy —
woman steps in and asserts her right of control.
I don't know anything which makes upon me
so strange an impression as the frou-frou of these
French petticoats in the midst of slaughter, terror,
and universal chaos. I read a book some time
ago which had Zola and his acolytes for its
contributors. It was a series of stories, all
associated with the terrible war of 1870. It is
the book which contains Zola's own splendid
and pathetic little story, "The Attack on the
Mill," and, if I mistake not, it is in the same
volume that one finds that weird, amusing,
appalling sketch, "Boule de Suif," Maupassant's
most powerful, thrilling, and most pessimistic con-
tribution to contemporary literature. There was
another story, which was the history of an intrigue
between Trochu and a high-class demi-mondaine
in the very midst of the siege, and the sense of
awe, horror, disgust, which you feel at this odious
episode in the midst of the crash of bombs and
the submergence in awful suffering of a whole
world, is something that you can never forget.

All this I think of as I read the episode
Pasquier tells in the history of his imprisonment :

The Estimate of an Official. 133

" As it was necessary to make out a warrant
for my arrest and order of committal, I was, while
this was being done, taken into a room, where
I was placed in custody of the same guard.
Fortune willed that a young and rather good-
looking woman should come into it just the same
time. She was in a gay mood, and seeing me
look rather disheartened, she could not resist the
temptation of asking me the reason for being so
downcast. I had no difficulty in enlightening her.
As soon as I had told her my story, she ex-
claimed : ' What's that ? There was no personal
charge against you, and they are going to send
you to prison because you are your father's son !
What nonsense ! Wait a bit, I will go and talk to
them.' No sooner said than she knocked at the door
of the Committee-room, imperiously demanded
admittance, and walked in as if in her own house.
Now this woman was no less a person than the
Citoyenne Mottei, the wife of the President of the
Committee, and she exercised a powerful influence
over her husband, who, on his side, held absolute
sway over his colleagues. I soon heard an ani-
mated discussion, wherein the voice of Madame
Mottei rose above all others. She came out at
last, told me that she had done her best, and
that there was a chance of my case taking a
favourable turn."

But even yet Pasquier's case was not decided,
his danger not yet over. Final rescue came, partly

134 Napoleon.

through an old townsman — Levasseur, a Revolu-
tionary leader, whom Pasquier and his family had
known in happier days — partly again through
female agency. Petticoats and the tumbril — a
woman's smiles, blandishments, appeals to the
family affection and sexual love of these unchained
tigers on the one side ; and the cold relentlessness
of the Revolutionary tribunals and the constant
swish of the guillotine on the other — it is only
France which could produce a combination so
grotesque, appalling, ironic.

XIII.
STILL THE REIGN OF TERROR.

I MUST give one or two other pictures of the
Reign of Terror before I go on to another section
of Pasquier's Memoirs. The very acidity and
almost brutal terseness of the style help to in-
crease one's sense of the horrors of the time.
After the escape to which I have already alluded,
Pasquier once more buried himself in the provinces.
Here came the dreadful news that his father had
been guillotined, and many others who had been
friends and colleagues :

" I spent two months of mental suffering in the
locality where I had received the awful news. It
was, I can never forget it, in the midst of some
of the first days of a beautiful spring. All these
dreadful misdeeds were being perpetrated with

The Estimate of an Official. 135

impunity under the rays of a most glorious sun.
Alone with my grief, I would often wander for
whole days through the woods and among the
hills surrounding our retreat. I looked up to
heaven, calling upon it to avenge the crimes of
the earth."

After months of unsuccessful attempts to cross
the frontier, of hiding in all kinds of refuges,
Pasquier and his wife were arrested at Amiens
by some members of the Revolutionary Committee
of Paris. In separate post - chaises they were
brought back to Paris.

There is something very weird in the account
of this strange journey. It gives a picture of the
times as vivid as any that I have ever read. I
know no passage, indeed, which leaves so vivid an
impression, except the chapters in that wonderful
but little-known book of Balzac, " Les C/wuans"
Pasquier's narrative is, of course, coloured by the
prejudices of his class and of those awful times ;
but these things add point to the portraits he
gives of the persons and the incidents. One sees,
living before one and as it were in a microscope,
the upheaval of classes, the strange transformation
of parties, and the seething ideas of that terrible
Revolution, in the following description of Pas-
quier's journey between Amiens and Paris :

" My companion was a little cripple, physically
as hideous as his soul was perverse. He greatly en-
joyed telling me that he had known me since child-

136 Napoleon.

hood, and that he had leaded chairs in our parish
church. He took pains to add that he would ever
remember the generosity of my grandfather and
father who had often given him a louis by way of a
New Year's gift. He was a fervent disciple of the
new philosophy, and his memory was stuffed with
passages from the works of Voltaire and Jean
Jacques. Thus, on passing a certain chateau
which was being demolished, he remarked, ' No
chateau ever falls but one sees twenty cottages
arise in its stead/

"On our passing through the village of
Sarcelles, he gave me a curious example of the
regeneration of morals towards which he and his
compeers daily worked so zealously. On my
pointing out to him a country residence of some-
what finer appearance and better kept than those
we had seen so far, for everything in those days
presented an appearance of decay and neglect,
he replied, M should well think so. It is the
house of our friend Livry. We often visit him.
He still possesses, it is true, an annual income of
fifty thousand livres, but he is a first-class fellow,
We have just married him to the Citoyenne
Saulnier, with whom he had so long cohabited.
(She was premiere danseuse at the Opera.) " Come
now," we said to him, "it is time that this dis-
graceful state of affairs should cease. To the
winds with family prejudice ! The ci-devant
marquis must marry the dancer." So he married

The Estimate of an Official. 137

her, and did wisely, for he might otherwise have
already danced his last jig, or at the very least
be rusticating in the shade of the walls of the
Luxembourg prison.' Happily, our two guards
combined with the lofty sentiments of which I
have just given an idea a passionate fondness for
money ; and this was our salvation."

XIV.
A PRISON SCENE.

PASQUIER and his wife were confined for some
days in a house in Paris before they were sent
to the prison of Saint-Lazare ; this was done
with a view of abstracting from them all their
remaining money ; and official avarice saved their
lives.

"Had I been imprisoned there two days
earlier, I might possibly have been taken away
in one of those carts which, during those two
days, carried over eighty people from the prison to
the foot of the scaffold. Every one connected with
the Paris Parliament, one of my brothers-in-law,
and several of my friends, perished on the day of
my entering the prison. Had I arrived earlier, I
could not have escaped their fate."

This is a sufficiently terrible picture, but a
sentence that follows is even more terrible as a
revelation of how families were swept off by the
guillotine. " In this prison," says Pasquier, "were

138 Napoleon.

still two of my brothers-in-law and a brother,
hardly more than a child, but who had, in spite
of this, been a prisoner for eight months." Just
fancy it — a father guillotined, a brother-in-law
guillotined, two brothers-in-law standing under
the shadow of the scaffold, a brother, likewise,
who is still a child ; and Pasquier and his wife
threatened with the same fate !

More terrible than almost any passage in these
Memoirs is the description of a prison personage
who played a prominent part in the economy of
the gaols. One of the many grounds given for
getting rid of obnoxious persons was a professed
belief in prison conspiracies. " What added,"
says Pasquier, " to the horror of this mendacious
invention was the means employed for giving
practical effect to the principle." Here was the
means :

" In every one of the large prisons were a
certain number of scoundrels, apparently detained
as prisoners like the others, but who were really
there to select and draw up a list of the victims.
Several of them had become known as spies, and,
incredible as it may seem, their lives were spared
by those in the midst of whom they fulfilled their
shameful duty. On the contrary, the prisoners
treated them gently and paid them court. I had
scarcely passed the first wicket, and was following
the jailer who was taking me to the room I was
to occupy, when I found myself face to face with

The Estimate of an Official. 139

M. de Montrou, already notorious through a
few somewhat scandalous intrigues, and whose
adventures have since created such a stir in
society. He came close to me, and not pretending
to notice me, whispered into my ear the following
salutary bit of advice : * While here do not speak
a word to anybody whom you do not know
thoroughly/ "

xv.

A PRISON TERRORIST.

AND now, here is a type of the creature which
such a system produced. The picture is sufficiently
appalling; but still more appalling to me is that
of the state of terror and humiliation to which the
proudest names in France were reduced :

" On reaching, with Madame Pasquier, the
lodging destined for our use, and which had
been vacated by the two victims of the previous
day, we were soon surrounded by our relations
and by a few friends who hastened to offer us
all the assistance they could. We were enjoying,
as far as one can enjoy anything when in a
similar position, these proofs of kindly interest
and friendship, when one of my brothers-in-law,
who was looking out of the window, exclaimed,
'Ah, here is Pepin Degrouttes about to take his
daily walk. We must go and show ourselves.
Come along with us.' 'Why so?' I queried,
whereupon I was told that he was the principal

140 Napoleon.

one among the rascals whose abominable role I
have described. They were designated by the
name of ' moutonsf a name consecrated by prison
slang. Every afternoon he would thus take a
turn in the yard, and it was for him the occasion
of passing in review, so to speak, the flock which
he was gradually sending to the slaughterhouse.
Woe unto him who seemed to hide or to avoid
his look ! Such a one was immediately noted,
and he could be sure that his turn would come
next. Many a gallant man's death became a
settled thing because he was a few minutes late
in coming down into the yard and passing under
the fellow's notice. The surrendering of oneself
to his discretion was apparently a way of im-
ploring mercy at his hands. We went through
the formality, and it constituted a scene which
I can never forget. I can still see him, a man
four feet seven or eight inches high, hump-backed
and twisted form, bandy-legged, and as red-headed
as Judas. He was completely surrounded by
prisoners, some of whom walked backward in his
presence, earnestly soliciting a look from him."

The fall of Robespierre brought the release of
Pasquier as well as others ; and thus his sufferings
ended. From this time forward he had a pros-
perous career, for he hailed the accession of
Napoleon as the end of Anarchy, and soon was
enrolled in the ranks of that lucky adventurer's
chief officials.

The Estimate of an Official. 141

XVI.

NAPOLEON.

THE extracts I shall now take from Pasquier
will mainly refer to Napoleon. It is in this part
of the narrative that the faults of these Memoirs
come out most prominently. Here was an
official, brought into almost daily contact with
the most interesting figure in all human history ;
and yet he hardly adds anything to our knowledge
of Napoleon's temperament or character. Pasquier
does certainly give us an excellent account of
the official workings of the Napoleonic machine.
In all such descriptions there is nothing left
unrecorded ; the narrative is lucid, tranquil, and
complete. But after all, it is Napoleon we want
to hear about — Napoleon the man, not Napoleon
the Emperor and the official ; and for that
information we mostly ask in vain. However, I
must do my best to piece together passages from
the Memoirs which bear on Pasquier's great
master, and see if I can manage to get some
addition to our knowledge of that intensely
absorbing personality.

We get a first and rather amusing glimpse
of Napoleon at the moment of his return after
his victories in Italy. In this picture also we
see beside Napoleon a man, his relations to whom
form one of the most striking portions of this
narrative :

142 Napoleon.

" The General was presented to the Directoire
in the courtyard of the Petit Luxembourg, where
an autel de la patrie had been erected. He was
introduced to the five directors by the Minister
of Foreign Affairs, M. de Talleyrand, who took
occasion to deliver a speech wherein, honour-
ing in Bonaparte ' his undying love of country
and humanity/ he praised 'his contempt of
luxuriousness and pomp, this miserable ambition
of ordinary souls ! The day was at hand when
it would become necessary to entreat him to tear
himself away from the quiet peace of his studious
retreat.' It was noticed that General Bonaparte
hardly partook of any dish at the dinner which
followed this ceremony. This abstinence was
attributed to his feeling unwell, but I learned
since from a confidential aide-de-camp, M. de
La Valette, that Bonaparte had considered this
precaution necessary in the face of the dangers
which he believed threatened his existence.
Whether or not his suspicions were based on any
foundation, one cannot help recording them, for
they must have greatly affected the resolution he
was about to take."

XVII.
THE RETURN FROM EGYPT.

PASQUIER draws a different picture of the state
of French feeling towards Napoleon on his

The Estimate of an Official. 143

return from Egypt from that which is generally
accepted.

" Fate led me one evening to the theatre next to
a box occupied by two very pretty women who
were unknown to me. During the performance
a message was brought to them. I noticed that it
caused great and joyous commotion. They left, and
I soon afterwards learnt that they were the sisters
of Bonaparte, and that he had landed on French
soil."

But Pasquier goes on to declare : " The effect
produced on me by the knowledge of this fact, and
on the greater number of those who received it
simultaneously with me, was in no way prophetic
of the consequences which were to follow." For
at this period Napoleon was not thought so much
of. " The expedition to Egypt, which has since
appealed so strongly to the imagination, was
then hardly looked upon as anything but a mad
undertaking."

"What had especially struck people in these
bulletins was a certain declaration in favour of the
Mohammedan creed, the effect of which, though it
might be somewhat great in Egypt, had in France
only called forth ridicule. I state all this because
a number of people, believing, apparently, that
they were adding to their hero's greatness, have
since sought to represent him as ardently and
impatiently expected. I am of opinion that they
have not spoken truly, and deceived themselves

144 Napoleon.

with regard to the effect which they have sought
to produce. To my mind, Bonaparte is far greater
when he is considered as arriving when no one
expects him or dreams of him, when he faces the
disadvantages of a return bearing resemblance to
a flight, when he triumphs over the prejudices
which this return raises against him, and when in
the space of a month he lays hand on every form
of power. He is far greater, I maintain, when
surrounded by all the obstacles he has triumphed
over, than when an attempt is made to present him
as the cynosure of all eyes, and having but to come
forward to be lord of all."

XVIII.

NAPOLEON'S MOMENT OF FEAR.

IT was while he was breaking down the Legis-
lative Assembly, which stood between him and
power, that Napoleon — as I have already told —
displayed one of the few moments of terror in his
whole lifetime. Curiously enough, his brother,
from the sheer fact of being a Parliamentarian,
was strong when the soldier was weak ; and it
was the courage of the Parliamentarian that saved
the cowardice of the soldier.

" It is a known fact that on the iQth, at Saint-
Cloud, the firmness of General Bonaparte, so
often tested on the battle-field, was for a moment
shaken by the vociferous yells with which he was

The Estimate of an Official. 145

greeted by the Conseil des Cinq Cents, in the
face of which he deemed it prudent to beat
a retreat. His brother Lucien was President
of the Council, and the firmness of the Parlia-
mentarian was in this instance more stable
than that of the warrior. Lucien weathered the
storm, and prevented the passing of a decree of
outlawry. Bonaparte soon returned, supported by
a military escort commanded by Generals Murat
and Leclerc. The soldiers had been electrified
by a rumour that the life of Bonaparte had
been attempted in the Council Chamber. The
appearance and the attitude of this faithful
armed band quickly cut the Gordian knot. The
Chamber was soon evacuated, and many of the
members of the Council, anxious to take the
shortest road, fled by the windows."

XIX.
TALLEYRAND.

I HAVE already said that the story of the rela-
tions between Napoleon and Talleyrand is one of
the most interesting chapters in these Memoirs.
Talleyrand, indeed, is sometimes a more prominent
figure on M. Pasquier's canvas than Napoleon.
It is a pity that M. Pasquier did not give us a
full-length portrait of this extraordinary and re-
pulsive personality; he gives instead somewhat
disconnected glimpses. However, let us take

146 Napoleon.

M. Pasquier as we find him ; here is his first
mention of the great diplomat :

"This is the place to dwell once more on the
strange position of this man, who always seemed to
enjoy the greatest confidence, and this at the time
when, in reality, he did not inspire any, and did
not really obtain it ; who, on his side, appeared
animated with the most sincere zeal, when it was
impossible for those who had any intercourse with
him to have any doubt as to his discontent. I
often saw him in those days at the house of one
of my relations, a woman of intellect, who, for
some months past, had become very intimate with
him, and in whose salon he spent many of his
evenings ; her social circle was small, and con-
sequently no restraint was put upon him. Owing
to this kind of intimacy, his actual frame of mind
was readily penetrated, and I easily observed that,
consumed as he was with a desire for fault-finding,
he considered himself but little bound by any
engagements, the result of his former deeds and
utterances."

xx.

TALLEYRAND'S TREACHERY.

IT was during the negotiations at Erfurt that
Napoleon reached the very zenith of his glory
and his power. How often must he have looked
back on those golden moments ! M. Pasquier

The Estimate of an Official. 147

willingly recognises all the supreme skill happily
displayed at this eventful hour.

" None of the seductions likely to impress fa-
vourably those whom it was necessary he should
captivate had been neglected. The members of
the Comedie Frangaise had been ordered to
Erfurt, where they played alternately comedy
and tragedy ; and so for a fortnight this little
town enjoyed French plays nearly every night
Extravagance and magnificence could hardly go
beyond this ; and great was the delight of all
those invited to enjoy so unexpected a treat.
Napoleon, when giving his orders to Talma,
previous to his departure from Paris, had promised
him a parterre full of kings, and it will be seen
that he had kept his word. He might have added
that never would any parterre show itself so well
disposed. Among the actresses forming part of
the troupe were several pretty women, and if
the Court chroniclers are to be believed, their
merits did not pass unnoticed. Nay, it has even
been stated that one of them had for some little
time engaged the attention of the most eminent
one of the personages among those whom
Napoleon wished to win over to his side. Judging
from all appearances, the happy result of his
efforts in this respect must have been undoubted,
and it can well be supposed that the attractions
of Erfurt greatly surpassed those of Tilsit. It
was at Erfurt that, during the performance of

L 2

148 Napoleon.

(Edifey the Emperor Alexander, by turning
towards Napoleon, gave so pointed an application
of the line: ' L'amitie d'un grand Jiomme est
un present des dieux" On the part of Alexander,
this meant not only a complete accord in political
ideas, but a worship, and the devotion of the
strongest friendship. On his side, Napoleon
admirably exercised the art of deriving benefit
from such demonstrations. His efforts ever
tended towards not abating one jot of his pre-
tensions to superiority, and he attained this
object by caressing in a delicate manner the
self-love of his powerful and august ally. His
efforts in this direction were all the more constant
for the fact that this superiority could alone
explain and render secure the most astounding
and most valuable of his triumphs. On no
other occasion, perhaps, did the suppleness and
craftiness of his Italian spirit shine to more
brilliant advantage."

XXI.
HUMILIATION OF GERMANY.

ONE of the incidents of this time is narrated by
Pasquier, and gives a very good idea of the
dreadful humiliation to which Germany had been
reduced by this successful conqueror.

" The fete given to Napoleon by the Duke
of Saxe-Weimar during the Erfurt conferences
cannot be passed over, for it characterises

The Estimate of an Official. • 149

marvellously well the incredible obsequiousness
of those on whom the burden of his omnipotence
in Germany bore down. This Duke conceived
the idea of inviting him to a hunting party on
the very battle-field of Jena. The rout of the
stags and deer represented that of the Prussians,
and hecatombs of denizens of the forest took the
place of human victims."

It is incidents like these that will explain to
us the terrible revenge that Germany insisted on
taking on France in 1870.

I return to Talleyrand's part in the con-
ference at Erfurt. It throws a very curious
light upon that diplomat. Talleyrand's "ardent
desire was to attain personal importance," as
Pasquier puts it. It will be understood, therefore,
how miserable he was when Napoleon declared
he would have no intermediary between himself
and the Emperor Alexander of Russia, whom,
as we have seen, Napoleon had so completely
captured at this moment. Talleyrand, however,
was equal to the occasion :

" Chance gave him the opportunity he was
seeking. Having gone one day, after Napoleon
had retired for the night, to the house of the
Princess of Thurn and Taxis, where he intended
to spend the rest of the evening, he met there
the Emperor Alexander, who had come with
the same intention. This chance meeting was a
happy one for both of them; the conversation

150 Napoleon.

of the French courtier could not fail to be most
agreeable to the Russian Sovereign. They soon
contracted the habit of meeting in the evening,
and this habit lasted as long as the conferences.
M. de Talleyrand had neglected nothing to con-
vince Napoleon of the fact that he was using to
his advantage only the facilities afforded to him
by so precious a habit."

Talleyrand, in his Memoirs, states that the
use he made of these confidences between himself
and Alexander was to betray Napoleon :

" When Napoleon handed to Alexander the
draft of the agreement which he was asking him
to sign, it was M. de Talleyrand who pointed
out to him the serious objections to it, and drafted
for him the memorandum which he (Alexander)
handed to Napoleon."

The explanation of all this, as Pasquier has
no hesitation in declaring, was that Talleyrand
was in the pay of the Emperor of Austria, and
also that he obtained from him, as part of the
price of his treason, the rich alliance of his
nephew, Edmond de Perigord, and the daughter
of the Duchess of Courland.

XXII.
THE TALLEYRAND INTRIGUE.

WHEN Napoleon embarked upon his Spanish
campaigns, Talleyrand began to take means

The Estimate of an Official. 151

to have his revenge on his master. One of
the first signs of the change in Talleyrand's
feelings was the close of the almost lifelong
struggle between himself and Fouche, Minister of
Police.

"Both men had apparently begun to look at
matters from the same stand-point, and losing all
confidence in the fortunes of Napoleon, had said
to themselves that if he were to disappear from
the scene, they would alone be in a position to
dispose of the Empire, and that it was consequently
necessary that they should determine upon his
successor, to their mutual and best advantage."

And now the confederates were so imprudent
as to warn the whole world of their reconciliation :

" It must either have been that they believed
themselves very powerful in their union, or that
they felt pretty well secure of the downfall of
the Emperor. I can still recall the effect produced
at a brilliant evening party given by M. de
Talleyrand by the appearance of M. Fouche on
the occasion when he entered his former foe's
drawing-room for the first time. No one could
believe his eyes, and the wonder was far greater
when the affectation of harmony was carried to
the point of the two men linking arms and
together walking from room to room during the
whole course of the evening."

Meantime the relatives and adherents of
Napoleon, whom he had left behind in Paris,

152 Napoleon.

warned him of what was taking place, with the re-
sult that he became alarmed, and returned to Paris.
" It was, indeed, impossible not to notice that
the rapidity with which he generally covered
distances had been much greater than was his
wont, and that, in spite of the difficulties presented
to the traveller. He had been compelled to make
several parts of the journey on horseback."

XXIII.
NAPOLEON IN A PASSION.

WHEN Napoleon came back he allowed his rage
to slumber for a few days, but finally it burst, and
there came one of the most repulsive scenes in
history. The scene took place in presence of
nearly all the Ministers and of several high
officials, and lasted for over half an hour, during
which Napoleon never ceased to violently declaim ;
and here are something like the terms of this
remarkable address :

" You are a thief, a coward, a man without
honour ; you do not believe in God ; you have all
your life been a traitor to your duties, you have
deceived and betrayed everybody ; nothing is
sacred to you; you would sell your own father.
I have loaded you with gifts, and yet there is
nothing you would not undertake against me.
Thus, for the past ten months, you have been
shameless enough, because you supposed, rightly

The Estimate of an Official. 153

or wrongly, that my affairs in Spain were going
astray, to say to all that would listen to you,
that you always blamed my undertaking there,
whereas it was you yourself who first put it into
my head, and who persistently urged it. And that
man, that unfortunate (he was thus designating
the Due d'Enghien), by whom was I advised of
the place of his residence? Who drove me to
deal cruelly with him ? What, then, are you
aiming at ? What do you wish for ? What do
you hope ? Do you dare to say ? You deserve
that I should smash you like a wine-glass. I
can do it, but I despise you too much to take
the trouble."

M. Pasquier goes on to say:

"The foregoing is, in an abridged form, the
substance of what M. de Talleyrand was com-
pelled to listen to during this mortal half-hour,
which must have been a frightful one for him if
one is to judge of it by the suffering felt at it by
those present, none of whom ever subsequently
referred to it without shuddering at its re-
collection."

But the most curious part of the transaction,
and what struck everybody who was present,
was: —

" the seeming indifference of the man who
had to listen to all this, and who, for nearly a
whole half-hour, endured, without flinching, a
torrent of invective for which there is probably

154 Napoleon.

no precedent among men in such high positions
and in such a place."

And there was even this more remarkable
fact :—

"This man, who was thus ignominiously
treated, remained at Court, and preserved his
rank in the hierarchy of the highest Imperial
dignities. Although in less close connection with
the Emperor than heretofore, he did not for that
reason become completely a stranger to affairs of
State, and we are soon to see him called upon
once more to give advice to his Sovereign on an
occasion of the highest importance."

One of the most remarkable facts in connection
with the whole story is the patience with which
Talleyrand waited for his revenge ; but when it
came, the revenge was striking. It was Talley-
rand's hand more than any other that was ac-
countable for the final blow to Napoleon's power.

XXIV.
A CURIOUS BONAPARTE TRAIT.

PASQUIER confirms Taine's description of the
character of Napoleon's family. The same strange
self-confidence, the inflexibility of will, ran through
them all.

"The Emperor had four brothers and three
sisters. That indomitable stubbornness just
referred to had already removed from his con-
trolling power two of his brothers. The one

The Estimate of an Official. 155

known as Lucien, and afterwards as Prince de
Canino, a title given to him by the Pope, had a
fiery soul. He was ambitious and greedily fond
of money. Public affairs had all the more attrac-
tion for him in that he had played an important
part in them on the i8th Brumaire, and he
could lay the flattering unction to himself that his
firmness on that day so fraught with peril had
greatly contributed to its success. He deserted
the Court at the time his brother reached the
summit of grandeur, and when he was in a
position to promise the highest destinies to all
the members of his family. On his becoming
a widower, it was impossible to cause him to
renounce his matrimonial views with a divorcee,
who had been his mistress for some time past,
and sooner than yield, he went into a voluntary
exile, from which he did not return until after
many trials, which finally led him to England,
at the time of the misfortunes of 1815. During
his stay in Italy, he seemed to make it a point
of honour to show his loyalty to the Pontifical
Government, whose subject he had become."
Joseph had exactly the same temperament :
" Joseph, the eldest of the family, had ascended
the throne of Spain, after having occupied that of
Naples. Witty, voluptuous, effeminate, although
courageous, nothing in his incredible fortunes was
to him a cause for surprise. I heard him in
January, 1814, make the extraordinary claim that

156 Napoleon.

if his brother had not interfered with his affairs
after his second entry into Madrid, he would be
still governing Spain. This is explained by
another striking trait of the character of the
Bonapartes. No sooner had they set their feet
on the path leading to Royal honours, than those
most intimate with them were never to see them
for a single instant belie the seriousness with
which they took the highest positions ; they even
ended in believing that they had been called to
them as a matter of course. They had the
instinct of their greatness. Joseph displays at the
very outset of the elevation of his brother such
impatience to see himself in possession of a rank
worthy of him that Napoleon was wont to say
laughingly : ' I do believe that Joseph is some-
times tempted to think that I have robbed my
eldest brother of the inheritance of the King,
our father.' "

XXV.
THE FEMALE BONAPARTES.

AND Napoleon's sisters behaved in a similar
way : —

" Of the three sisters the eldest almost reigned
in Tuscany under the title of Grand Duchess. She
made herself beloved there, and this fortunate
province owed to her a gentle treatment denied to
all other countries then united with France. She
has left a pleasant memory behind her, in spite of

The Estimate of an Official. 157

the irregularities of her private life, which she did
not take sufficient care to conceal. The Princess
Pauline, wife of Prince Borghese, was perhaps the
most beautiful woman of her time, and she hardly
dreamt of giving prominence to any other advan-
tage than this one. She had been to Santo
Domingo with her first husband, General Leclerc.
The sun of the tropics had, they do say, been
astonished at the ardour of her dissipation. The
fatigue consequent upon such an existence
shattered her health, and for a long time she
was carried about in a litter. In spite of her
poor health, she was none the less beautiful.

" It remains for me to speak of Caroline, the
wife of Murat, and Queen of Naples, who bore
a great resemblance to the Emperor. Less
beautiful than Pauline, although endowed with
more seductive charms, she possessed the art,
without being any more scrupulous than her
sisters, of showing a greater respect for the
proprieties ; besides, all her tastes vanished in
presence of her ambition. She had found the
Naples crown somewhat too small for her -head,
and greatly coveted the Spanish one, but in the
end she became resigned to her fate, and wore
with good grace that which had fallen to her
lot. It may even be said that she did so with
no little amount of dignity. She was insane
enough to believe that her fortune could withstand
the catastrophe which swept away that of Napoleon.

158 Napoleon.

In that extraordinary race, the most sacred en-
gagements, the deepest affections, went for nothing
as soon as political combinations Deemed to advise
it ; nevertheless, each one of its members possessed
in the highest degree the family spirit. Caroline
took a hand in bringing about the downfall of her
brother, to whom she owed all her grandeur. It is,
perhaps, she who dealt the final blow."

CHAPTER IV.
AS NAPOLEON APPEARED TO A RELATIVE*

LAVALETTE.

THE next estimate I shall give is that of
Lavalette.

Count Lavalette is the hero of one of the
most romantic stories in history. Few particulars
are given of that episode in his Memoirs which,
nevertheless, have an interest far beyond their
merely personal character. Lavalette was a
brave soldier, a successful Minister, and intimate
servant of Napoleon. But the great interest of
this book to me is the picture it gives of the
point of view of the average man during the
strange events that made up the passionate
drama of France from the beginning of the
Revolution to the end of the Empire. I don't
know how this book would strike a Frenchman ;
but to me it reads as an extremely fair one.

* "Memoirs of Count Lavalette, adjutant and private
secretary to Napoleon, and Postmaster-General under the
Empire." (London : Gibbings.)

160 Napoleon.

Events are set forth, it is true, without much
glow or inspiration ; but on the other hand,
the moderation and simplicity of its tone enable
one to see events in their true light, and to
understand the feelings which took hold of the
minds of most Frenchmen, and made them pass
without much difficulty or much remonstrance
from one sort of government to another — govern-
ments so diverse as the old French Monarchy,
the wild Revolution, and then the iron despotism
of Napoleon.

ABOUT THE BASTILLE.

LAVALETTE was the son of a respectable Paris
tradesman. He received a good education, was
intended for the Church, and had got as far as
holy orders and a small position, when the
Revolution broke out and upset him, as every-
thing else. He was soon a member of the
National Guard, and was present at many of
the stirring and terrible scenes which opened
the Revolution. As will be gathered from what
I have already said, he is a cool, unimpassioned
observer, had military instinct from his whole
temperament; and any description, therefore, which
he gives of the doings of the mob in that strange
period, is free from any enthusiasm, and rather
censorious than otherwise. Thus, when he
describes what he saw at the taking of the

As Napoleon appeared to a Relative. 161

Bastille, you can clearly perceive that if he had
been in command and such a monarch as
Napoleon had been on the throne, the history
of that event and of the whole world would
have been very different. He confirms the
impression, which has been got by every close
student of the French Revolution, that the old
Bastille was formidable and hateful rather for
what it represented than what it was :

"Situated without the precincts of the city,
beyond the Porte Saint-Antoine, it was evidently
never intended as a check upon the metropolis.
It was said the King meant to keep his treasure
there, but the interior distribution clearly evinced
that it was destined to serve as a State prison.
This pretended fortress consisted of five towers,
about one hundred and twenty feet high, joined
together by strong high walls and surrounded by
broad deep ditches. Its entrance was protected
by drawbridges, and on July I4th it was com-
manded by a governor, and defended by about
sixty Swiss veterans ; a few old guns, of small
size, were placed on the terraces of the towers.
There was nothing very formidable in its appear-
ance ; but something like a superstitious terror
pervaded the minds of the people, and most
marvellous stories were told respecting the
Bastille. For many ages the most noble victims
of despotism groaned within its mysterious walls.
Some prisoners, who had been fortunate enough

M

1 62 Napoleon.

to escape from it, had published most terrifying
accounts. Those formidable towers, those vigilant
sentinels, who suffered no one, even by stealth,
to cast a look towards them ; those numerous,
ferocious - looking guards, frightful by their
appearance, and more frightful still by their
deep silence — all united to excite terror and
anxious curiosity. Nevertheless, the State prison
was not dangerous for the people ; it was designed
for persons of high birth, or for literary people
who ventured to displease the Ministry. But
to the wish of satisfying curiosity, was added a
noble feeling of pity for the numerous victims
supposed to be shut up in the fortress, and the
whole population of Paris resolved to make
themselves master of the Bastille."

n.

THE HANGING OF FOULON.

LAVALETTE saw the hanging of poor old Foulon.
He evidently does not believe that Foulon ever
used the phrase which had been attributed to
him : " Why don't the people eat grass ? " or,
as Lavalette gives it, " Hay was good enough to
feed the Paris rabble." Anyhow, the sight of
his execution produced a great effect upon
Lavalette, and shaped his after career as it
did that of so many others.

" I crossed the Place de la Greve to the
Comedie Frangaise; it rained, and there was

As Napoleon appeared to a Relative. 163

no tumult anywhere but facing the H6tel de
Ville. I was standing on the parapet when I
saw raised above the crowd the figure of an
old man with gray hair ; it was the unfortunate
Foulon being hanged at the lamp-post. I
returned home to study my beloved Montesquieu ;
and from that moment I began to hate a re-
volution in which people were murdered without
being heard in their defence/'

There is something thrilling in this plain,
blunt, terse narrative of that awful day. Familiar
as the scene is to us all, these few lines seem
to me singularly effective — above all things, by
bringing out the fact, which is to be found in
more than one scene in the Revolution, that
this epoch-making tragedy passed through so
narrow an area of disturbance. " There was no
tumult anywhere but facing the Hotel de Ville."
By-and-by we shall see other and even more
remarkable instances of this peculiar phenomenon
of the Revolution. Lavalette, as a National
Guard, was also present at the great march of
the women to Versailles. His account of that
day would gladden the heart of Taine. The
Mcenads who headed the procession were
" inebriated women, the refuse of humankind."
Lavalette's company would have little to do with
these creatures; and he was strongly of opinion
that the whole manifestation could have been
put down if the King had shown some firmness.

M 2

164 Napoleon.

in.

AND finally Lavalette accompanied the monarch
in that journey back to Paris, which Carlyle and
so many other writers have told us all about.
Lavalette's narrative is excellent reading, though
coloured by the Imperialist soldier's prejudices.

"The mob crowded in the marble court,
and wandering on the outside of the palace,
began to express again their designs with
frightful howlings. ( To Paris ! To Paris ! ' were
the cries. Their prey was promised them, and
then fresh cries ordered the unfortunate family
to appear on the balcony. The Queen showed
herself, accompanied by her children ; she was
forced by threats to send them away. I mixed
in the crowd, and beheld for the first time that
unfortunate Princess. She was dressed in white ;
her head was bare, and adorned with beautiful
fair locks. Motionless, and in a modest and
noble attitude, she appeared to me like a victim
on the block. The enraged populace were
not moved at the sight of woe in all its majesty.
Imprecations increased, and the unfortunate
Princess could not even find a support in the
King, for his presence did but augment the
fury of the multitude. At last preparations for
departure did more towards appeasing them

As Napoleon appeared to a Relative. 165

than promises could have done, and by twelve
o'clock the frightful procession set off. I hope
such a scene will never be witnessed again. I
have often asked myself how the metropolis of
a nation so celebrated for urbanity and elegance
of manners, how the brilliant city of Paris
could contain the savage hordes I that day
beheld, and who so long reigned over it ! In
walking through the streets of Paris, it seems
to me, the features even of the lowest and most
miserable class of people do not present to the
eye anything like ferociousness, or the meanest
passions in all their hideous energy. Can those
passions alter the features so as to deprive them
of all likeness to humanity ? or does the terror
inspired by the sight of a guilty wretch give
him the semblance of a wild beast? These
madmen, dancing in the mire and covered with
mud, surrounded the King's coach. The groups
that marched foremost carried on long pikes
the bloody and dishevelled heads of the Life
Guards butchered in the morning. Surely Satan
himself first invented the placing of a human
head at the end of a lance. The disfigured
and pale features, the gory locks, the half-open
mouth, the closed eyes, images of death, added
to the gestures and salutations the executioners
made them perform, in horrible mockery of life,
presented the most frightful spectacle rage could
have imagined. A troop of women, ugly as

1 66 Napoleon.

crime itself, swarming like insects, and wearing
grenadiers' hairy caps, went continually to and
fro, howling barbarous songs, embracing and
insulting the Life Guards."

This is certainly an appalling picture.

IV.
PARIS DURING THE MASSACRE.

LAVALETTE also saw some of the September
massacres. He had succeeded — and with no great
difficulty — in releasing a lady from the prison at
the Hotel de la Force ; and then had tried to
muster a body of National Guards to prevent the
massacre of the rest. His efforts proved vain.
His narrative brings out clearly the fact of this, as
of other scenes, that a small, resolute, and violent
minority are more potent than the mass of the
overwhelming majority which opposes them.
Lavalette went to " some of the National Guards,
whom we looked upon as the most steady," but
" notwithstanding my most pressing entreaties I
could make no impression upon them." All he
could do under the circumstances was to go to the
prison of La Force and see what he could do
himself. His description of the scene is very
remarkable in more respects than one :

"Before the wicket that leads to the Rue
de Ballets, I found about fifty men at most.
These were the butchers ; the rest had been

As Napoleon appeared to a Relative. 167

drawn there by curiosity, and were perhaps more
execrable than the executioners ; for though they
dared neither go away nor take part in the horrid
deed, still they applauded. I looked forward, and
at sight of a heap of bodies still palpitating with
life, I uttered a cry of horror. Two men turned
round, and, taking me abruptly by the collar,
dragged me violently to the street, where they
reproached me with imprudence, and then,
running away, left me alone in the dark. The
horrible spectacle I had witnessed deprived me
of all courage; I went home overwhelmed with
shame and despair for humanity so execrably
injured, and the French character so deplorably
disgraced."

I call this remarkable, because the number of
the persons who took part in the massacre is put
down at as low a figure as fifty ; all the rest are
spectators. But what follows is still stranger —
confirming the statement which students of the
Revolution have often heard — that Paris, outside
a very restricted area, practically remained pretty
much the same during the very worst times of
the Revolution :

"The particulars of the massacre having all
been recorded in the memoirs of the time, I need
not repeat them here. I was, moreover, no
spectator of them. They lasted three days, and —
I blush while I write it — at half a mile from the
different prisons nobody would have imagined

1 68 Napoleon.

that their countrymen were at that moment
butchered by hundreds. The shops were open,
pleasure was going on in all its animation, and
sloth rejoiced in its vacuity. All the vanities
and seductions of luxury, voluptuousness, and
dissipation, peaceably swayed their sceptre. They
feigned an ignorance of cruelties which they had
not the courage to oppose."

v.

HOW A VILLAGE WAS AFFECTED BY THE OVERTURN.

IT will have been seen that Lavalette's sympathies
were frankly Royalist in the early days of the
Revolution, but when the foreign invasion enrolled
every young Frenchman of spirit in the army,
Lavalette was carried away like the rest, and
determined to go to the front. His opinions,
however, made even this rather difficult, and he
was obliged to seek a volunteer corps. Two
other friends, also of suspect opinions, adopted
the same tactics; and here is one of the many
adventures which befell them on the way — it
is an extraordinary and vivid description of the
kind of things which the great upheaval had
made possible :

" We set off ... for Autun, and we arrived
next day at a village, not far from Vermanton,
situated amidst woods, and the inhabitants of

As Napoleon appeared to a Relative. 169

which got their livelihood by making wooden shoes.
Two days before, a bishop and two of his grand -
vicars, who were escaping in a post-coach, had been
arrested by them. The coach was searched, and
some hundred louis-d'or having been found in it,
the peasants thought the best way to gain the
property would be to kill the real owners. Their
new profession being more lucrative than their
former one, they resolved to continue it, and in
consequence set themselves on the look-out for
all travellers. Our sailors' dresses were not very
promising, but we carried our heads high —
our manners seemed haughty, and so a little
hunchbacked man, an attorney of the village,
guessed we might perhaps help to enrich them.
The inhabitants being resolved not to make any
more wooden shoes, applauded the hunchback's
advice. We were brought to the municipality,
where the mob followed us. The attorney placed
himself on a large table, and began reading
with emphasis in a loud voice all our passports —
Louis Amedee Auguste d'Aubonne, Andre Louis
Leclerc de la Ronde, Marie Chamans de la
Valette. Here the rascal added the de, that
was not in my passport. On hearing these
aristocratic names a murmur began ; all the eyes
turned towards us were hostile, and the hunch-
back cried out that our knapsacks ought to be
examined. The harvest would have been rich.
I was the poorest of the set, and I had five-

170 Napoleon.

and-twenty louis in gold. We looked upon our-
selves as lost, when D'Aubonne, whose stature
was tall, jumped on the table and began to
harangue the assembly. He was clever at making
verses, and knew besides at his fingers' ends the
whole slang dictionary. He began with a volley
of abuse and imprecations that surprised the
audience; but he soon raised his style, and
repeated the words ' country/ { liberty,' ' sovereignty
of the people,' with so much vehemence and such
a thundering voice, that the effect was prodigious.
He was interrupted by unanimous applause. The
giddy-headed young man did not stop there.
He imperiously ordered Leclerc de la Ronde to
get upon the table. La Ronde was the cleverest
mimic I ever saw. He was thirty-five years old,
of a grotesque shape, and as dark as a Moor.
His eyes were sunk in his head and covered
with thick black eyebrows, and his nose and
chin immeasurably long. D'Aubonne said to the
assembly : ' You'll soon be able to judge whether
we are or are not Republicans from Paris.'
And turning to his companion he said to him :
f Answer to the Republican catechism : What is
God ? What are the people ? What is a King ? '
The other, with a contrite air, a nasal voice, and
winding himself about like a harlequin, answered :
' God is nature; the people are the poor; a king
is a lion, a tiger, an elephant, who tears to pieces,
devours, and crushes the poor people to death.' It

As Napoleon appeared to a Relative. 171

was not possible to resist this. Astonishment,
shouts, enthusiasm, were carried to the highest
pitch. The orators were embraced — hugged —
carried in triumph. The honour of lodging us
grew a subject of dispute. We were forced to
drink, and we were soon as much at a loss how
to get away from these brutal wretches, now our
friends, as we had been to escape out of their
hands while they were our enemies. Luckily,
D'Aubonne again found means to draw us out
of this scrape. He gravely observed that we
had no time to stop, and that our country
claimed the tribute of our courage. They let
us go at last."

vi.

A FIRST VIEW OF NAPOLEON.

I MAKE a big skip in the life of Lavalette, and
bring him to the time when he made the ac-
quaintance of Napoleon, with whom he was
destined afterwards to be so closely associated.
He was introduced to Napoleon when the young
General was winning those victories in Italy that
first created his fame, and he was immediately
appointed an aide-de-camp. This is his account
of his first interview with Napoleon :

" I went to the General-in-Chief, who lodged in
the Palazzo Serbelloni. He was giving audience.
His saloon was filled with military men of all
ranks, and high civil officers. His air was affable,

172 Napoleon.

but his look so firm and fixed that I turned pale
when he addressed himself to me. I faltered out
my name, and afterwards my thanks, to which
he listened in silence, his eyes fastening on me
with an expression of severity that quite discon-
certed me. At last, he said, ' Come back at six
o'clock, and put on the sash.' That sash, which
distinguishes the aides-de-camp of the General-in-
Chief, was of white and red silk, and was worn
around the left arm."

VII.
NAPOLEON AND JOSEPHINE.

THIS was at Milan ; and it was at the moment
when Napoleon, still in the early flush of his
passion for Josephine, had succeeded in getting
her to leave her beloved Paris and follow him
to the army. Lavalette describes a curious and
characteristic scene :

"The General-in-Chief was at that time just
married. Madame Bonaparte was a charming
woman ; and all the anxiety of the command — all
the trouble of the government of Italy — could not
prevent her husband from giving himself wholly
up to the happiness he enjoyed at home. It was
during that short residence at Milan that the
young painter Gros, afterwards so celebrated,
painted the picture of the General. He represented
him on the Bridge of Lodi, at the moment when,
with the colours in his hand, he rushed forward

As Napoleon appeared to a Relative. 1 73

to induce the troops to follow him. The painter
could never obtain a long sitting. Madame
Bonaparte used to take her husband upon her
lap after breakfast, and hold him fast for a few
minutes. I was present at three of these sittings.
The age of the newly-married couple, and the
painter's enthusiasm for the hero, were sufficient
excuses for such familiarity."

Lavalette was united to Napoleon by family
ties, for he married a Beauharnais — a relative of
the Empress — and Napoleon seems to have had
great confidence in him. There is not quite as
much about Napoleon as one might have expected
from such intimacy, and the glimpses of the great
General are few and far between.

VIII.
LABOURS AND FATIGUES.

NAPOLEON sent for Lavalette one evening, after
his return to Paris from the disastrous expedition
to Russia, and here is what took place :

" On my arrival he commanded me to come
every evening into the bath-room next to his
bed-chamber. He then had me called in to him,
while he warmed himself undressed before the
fire. We talked familiarly together for an hour
before he went to bed. The first evening I found
him so cast down, so overwhelmed, that I was
frightened. I went to see his secretary, who was

174 Napoleon.

my friend. I communicated to him my fears
that his mind, formerly so strong, had begun to
sink. 'You need not fear/ he replied; 'he has
lost nothing of his energy; but in the evening
you see him quite bent down with fatigue. He
goes to bed at eleven o'clock, but he is up at
three o'clock in the morning, and till night every
moment is devoted to business. It is time to
put an end to this, for he must sink under it*
The principal subject of our conversation was
the situation of France. I used to tell him, with
a degree of frankness the truth of which alone
could make him pardon its rudeness, that France
was fatigued to an excess — that it was quite
impossible to bear much longer the burthen
with which she was loaded, and that she would
undoubtedly throw off the yoke, and according
to custom, seek an alleviation to her sufferings
in novelty, her favourite divinity. I said in
particular a great deal of the Bourbons, who, I
observed, would finally inherit his royal spoil if
ever fortune laid him low. The mention of the
Bourbons made him thoughtful, and he threw
himself on his bed without uttering a word ; but
after a few minutes, having approached to know
whether I might retire, I saw that he had fallen
into a profound sleep."

As Napoleon appeared to a Relative. 175

IX.
THE RETURN FROM ELBA.

I PASS on to Lavalette's description of the return
of Napoleon from Elba. He was in the Tuileries
on the night when Napoleon made his re-entry,
and his description is very vivid of that remarkable
scene :

" Five or six hundred officers on half- pay were
walking in the extensive courtyard, wishing each
other joy at the return of Napoleon. In the
apartments the two sisters-in-law of the Emperor,
the Queens of Spain and Holland, were waiting
for him, deeply affected. Soon after, the ladies
of the household and those of the Empress came
to join them. The fleurs-de-lis had everywhere
superseded the bees. However, on examining the
large carpet spread over the floor of the audience-
chamber where they sat, one of the ladies perceived
that a flower was loose : she took it off, and the
bee soon reappeared. Immediately all the ladies
set to work, and in less than half an hour, to the
great mirth of the company, the carpet again
became Imperial. In the meanwhile time passed
on ; Paris was calm. Those persons who lived
far from the Tuileries did not come near it;
everybody remained at home; and indifference
seemed to pervade the minds of all. But it was
not the same in the country. Officers who arrived

176 Napoleon.

at Fontainebleau, preceding the Emperor, told us
it was extremely difficult to advance on the road.
Deep columns of peasants lined it on both sides,
or rather made themselves master of it. Their
enthusiasm had risen to the highest pitch. It was
impossible to say at what hour he would arrive.
Indeed, it was desirable that he should not be
recognised, for, in the midst of the delirium and
confusion, the arm of a murderer might have
reached him. He therefore resolved to travel
with the Due de Vicence in a common cabriolet,
which, at nine o'clock in the evening, stopped
before the first entrance near the iron gate of the
quay of the Louvre. Scarcely had he alighted
when the shout of ' Long live the Emperor ! ' was
heard ; a shout so loud that it seemed capable
of splitting the arched roofs. It came from the
officers on half-pay, pressed, almost stifled in the
vestibule, and who filled the staircase up to the
top. The Emperor was dressed in his famous
gray frock-coat. I went up to him, and the Due
de Vicence cried to me, ' For God's sake place
yourself before him, that he may get on ! ' He
then began to walk upstairs. I went before,
walking backwards, at the distance of one pace,
looking at him, deeply affected, my eyes bathed
with tears, and repeating, in the excess of my joy,
4 What ! It is you ! It is you ! It is you, at
last ! ' As for him, he walked up slowly with his
eyes half closed, his hands extended before him,

As Napoleon appeared to a Relative. 177

like a blind man, and expressing his joy only by
a smile. When he arrived on the landing-place
of the first floor, the ladies wished to come to
meet him ; but a crowd of officers from the higher
floor leaped before them, and they would have
been crushed to death if they had shown less
agility. At last the Emperor succeeded in
entering his apartments; the doors were shut,
not without difficulty, and the crowd dispersed,
satisfied at having seen him. Towards eleven
o'clock in the evening, I received an order to go
to the Tuileries ; I found in the saloon the old
Ministers, and in the midst of them the Emperor,
talking about the affairs of government with as
much ease as if we had gone ten years back. He
had just come out of his bath, and had put on
his undress regimentals. The subject of the
conversation, and the manner in which it was
carried on, the presence of the persons who had
so long been employed under him, contributed to
efface completely from my memory the family
of the Bourbons and their reign of nearly a
year."

x.

A CHANGED FRANCE.

BUT Napoleon found a different France from that
over which he had ruled so long :

" The eleven months of the King's reign had
thrown us back to 1792, and the Emperor soon

N

178 Napoleon.

perceived it ; for he no longer found the submission,
the deep respect, and the Imperial etiquette he was
accustomed to. He used to send for me two or
three times a day, to talk with me for hours to-
gether. It happened sometimes that the conver-
sation languished. One day, after we had walked
up and down the room in silence, tired of that
fancy, and my business pressing me, I made my
obeisance and was going to retire. ' How ! ' said
he, surprised, but with a smile ; ' do you then
leave me so ? ' I should certainly not have done so
a year before ; but I had forgotten my old pace,
and I felt that it would be impossible to get into it
again. In one of those conversations, the subject
of which was the spirit of Liberty that showed
itself on all sides with so much energy, he said to
me, in a tone of interrogation, ' All this will last
two or three years ? ' ' That your Majesty must
not believe. It will last for ever.' He was soon
convinced of the fact himself, and he more than
once acknowledged it. I have even no doubt
that if he had vanquished the enemy and restored
peace, his power would have been exposed to
great danger by civil broils. The Allies made
a great mistake in not letting him alone. I
do not know what concessions he would have
made, but I am well acquainted with all those the
nation would have demanded, and I sincerely think
he would have been disgusted with reigning, when
he must have found himself a constitutional king

As Napoleon appeared to a Relative. 179

after the manner of the patriots. Nevertheless,
he submitted admirably well to his situation — at
least in appearance. At no period of his life had
I seen him enjoy more unruffled tranquillity."

XI.

WATERLOO.

THERE are some other scenes which I shall pass
by until I reach the departure for Waterloo, and
the awful moment when Napoleon returned from
his last and disastrous battle. The scenes are
described tersely, but the fearsome hope of the
first, and the awful despair of the second, come
out from the cold language with a strange lucidity
and impressiveness. Here is what happened in the
Champ de Mars :

" After the celebration of mass, to which, by-
the-bye, everybody turned their backs, the Emperor
went down and took his place on an amphitheatre
in the middle of the Champ de Mars, from whence
he was to distribute the eagles to all the cohorts of
the departments. This was a beautiful scene, for
it was a national one. The situation, besides, was
true. The Emperor took care to address a word
to each of the corps that received these colours,
and that word was flattering and full of enthusiasm.
To the department of the Vosges, he said : ' You
are my old companions.' To those of the Rhine :
' You have been the first, the most courageous, and

N 2

180 Napoleon.

the most unfortunate in our disasters.' To the
departments of the Rhone : ' I have been bred
amongst you.' To others : ' Your bands were at
Rivoli, at Arcola, at Marengo, at Tilsit, at
Austerlitz, at the Pyramids/ These magic names
filled with deep emotion the hearts of those old
warriors, the venerable wrecks of so many vic-
tories. ... A few days afterwards the Emperor
set off. I left him at midnight. He suffered a
great deal from a pain in his breast. He stepped,
however, into his coach with a cheerfulness that
seemed to show he was conscious of victory."

And now for the second scene :

" At last I learned the fatal news of the battle
of Waterloo, and the next morning the Emperor
arrived. I flew to the Elysee to see him ; he
ordered me to his closet, and as soon as he saw me
he came to meet me with a frightful epileptic
laugh. ' Oh ! my God ! ' he said, raising his eyes to
heaven, and walking two or three times up and
down the room. This appearance of despair was,
however, very short. He soon recovered his cool-
ness, and asked me what was going forward at the
Chamber of Representatives. I could not attempt
to hide that exasperation was there carried to a
high degree, and that the majority seemed deter-
mined to require his abdication or to pronounce
it themselves if he did not send it in willingly.
' How is that ? ' he said. ' If proper measures are
not taken, the enemy will be before the gates in

As Napoleon appeared to a Relative. 181

eight days. Alas ! ' he added, ' I have accustomed
them to such victories, that they know not how to
bear one day's misfortune. What will become of
poor France ? I have done all I could for her.5
Then he heaved a deep sigh."

Lavalette saw Napoleon at Malmaison, but
there is little of interest in what he says — except
that he confirms the testimony of other witnesses
as to the completeness of Napoleon's collapse after
the crushing defeat of Waterloo.

CHAPTER V.
NAPOLEON, AS HE APPEARED TO A SOLDIER.*

LET us now see how Napoleon impressed a mere
soldier — Marbot. He saw Napoleon Bonaparte in
the midst of his greatest battles, at almost the
most critical moments of his career, and was
brought into the closest and most intimate contact
with him. There are abundant stories of Napoleon
throughout his volumes, and Baron Marbot can
tell a story often with a great deal of point. And
yet the impression of Napoleon is a blurred one.
Did you ever read the description of Scobeleff
after the failure of the great assault on Plevna,
which was written by MacGahan — that brilliant
journalist whom cruel death untimely destroyed ?
I recall the passage from memory after some
fifteen years ; I can still remember that terrible
portrait of war, with Scobeleff, his face stained
with blood and powder, his sword twisted, des-

* " The Memoirs of Baron de Marbot." Translated by
Arthur John Butler. Two Vols. (London : Longmans.)

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 183

peration and fury in his bloodshot eyes ; and
then later on ScobelefF washed, scented, dressed
like a dandy ; and then a third picture — ScobelefF
waking up in his sleep to weep bitter tears over
the deaths of the brave fellows he had led in
thousands to destruction. There was a picture
that stands out in the memory for ever, and that
reveals war in a flash, as a black sky shows its
battlements and turrets, its banks and seas of cloud
when lightning bursts forth and opens up its dark-
ness. There is no such passage in all Marbot.
There are scenes, some of them very vividly de-
scribed ; and there are plenty of good stories ; but
somehow or other inspiration is wanting, and you do
not feel that you have got inside Napoleon one bit
more than you have done before. And yet I can
understand the extraordinary popularity which the
book has attained. If Marbot fails with Napoleon,
he is more successful with his marshals, and you
get some very clear and correct notions of what
some of them were like.

The book, too, is wonderfully effective as a
description of what war is like in the details as
distinguished from general results and plans. The
author is so candid and so simple that you are
able to live his life with him from day to day. He
is distinctly egotistic, though there is an utter ab-
sence of braggadocio ; and he is utterly frank in
taking more interest in his own affairs and adven-
tures than in anything or anybody else. The

184 Napoleon.

result is that you often, through this description
of individual experiences, get an extraordinarily
clear idea of a movement, a great episode, or a
decisive battle. I share also in the pleasant
impression the book has universally made as to
the personality of the author. His honesty,
bravery, and good faith shine out in every page
of the book : and it can be easily understood why
Marbot — though he served under the Bourbons
— was dear enough to Napoleon to be especially
mentioned in his last will, and to get a small
legacy all to himself.

GLIMPSES OF THE TERROR.

I DO not purpose to devote much of my space to
the author. His career has an interest of its own ;
but the chief interest of the book is his descriptions
of the men bigger than himself with whom he was
brought in contact. Suffice it to say that he was
the son of a distinguished French general. He
was born in 1782, and in his childhood he had
an opportunity of getting some glimpses of the
Reign of Terror under the men of the Convention.
In 1793, when eleven years of age, he and his
father made a stoppage at Cressensac on their way
to Toulouse. He goes on to say :

" While we were halting here I saw a sight that
I had never seen before. A marching column of
gendarmes, National Guards, and volunteers entered

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 185

the little town, their band playing. I thought it
grand, but could not understand why they should
have in the middle of them a dozen carriages full
of old gentlemen, ladies, and children, all looking
very sad. My father was furious at the sight.
He drew back from the window, and as he strode
up and down the room with his aide-de-camp I
heard him exclaim : ' Those scoundrels of the
Convention have spoilt the Revolution, which
might have been so splendid ! There is another
batch of innocent people being taken off to prison
because they are of good family, or have relations
who have gone abroad ! It is terrible ! ' I under-
stood him perfectly, and like him, I vowed hatred
to the party of terror who spoilt the Revolution of
1789. I may be asked, why, then, did my father
continue to serve a Government for which he had
no esteem ? Because he held that to repel the
enemy from French territory was under all circum-
stances honourable, and in no way pledged a
soldier to approval of the atrocities committed
by the Convention in its internal administration.

" What my father had said awakened my lively
interest in the persons whom the carriages contained.
I found out that they were noble families who had
been that morning arrested in their houses, and
were being carried to prison at Souilhac. I was
wondering how these old men, women, and
children, could be dangerous to the country, when
I heard one of the children ask for food. A lady

1 86 Napoleon.

begged a National Guard to let her get out to buy
provisions ; he refused harshly. The lady then held
out an assignat, and asked him to be so kind as to
get her a loaf ; to which he replied : ' Do you
think I am one of your old lackeys ? ' His
brutality disgusted me ; and having noticed that
our servant Spire had placed in the pockets of the
carriage sundry rolls, each lined with a sausage, I took
two of them, and approaching the carriage where the
children were, I threw these in when the guard's
back was turned. Mother and children made
such expressive signs of gratitude that I decided
to victual all the prisoners, and accordingly took
them all the stores that Spire had packed for the
nourishment of four persons during the forty-eight
hours which it would take us to reach Toulouse.
We started without any suspicion on his part of
the way in which I had disposed of them. The
children kissed their hands to me, the parents
bowed, and we set off. We had not gone a
hundred yards, when my father, who, in his haste
to escape from a sight which distressed him, had
not taken a meal at the inn, felt hungry and asked
for the provisions. Spire mentioned the pockets
in which he had placed them. My father and
M. Gault rummaged the whole carriage, and found
nothing. My father pitched into Spire ; Spire
from the coach-box swore by all the fiends that he
had victualled the carriage for two days. I was
rather in a quandary ; however, not liking to let

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 187

poor Spire be scolded any more, I confessed
what I had done, fully expecting a slight reproof
for having acted on my own authority. But
my father only kissed me, and long afterwards
he used to delight to speak of my conduct on
that occasion."

IT.
THE REVOLUTION IN THE SCHOOL.

YOUNG Marbot was sent to school at the College
of Soreze. It was a military school taught by
Benedictine monks. Owing to the popularity of
the Benedictines and the prudence of Dom Ferlus,
the principal, the school was spared by the revolu-
tionaries. And now, here is an interesting glimpse
of what a school was like in the days when the
Republic reigned :

" The monks wore lay clothes, and were
addressed as ' citizen ' ; but otherwise no change of
any importance had taken place in the routine of
the school. Of course it could not but show some
traces of the feverish agitation which prevailed
outside. The walls were covered with Republican
' texts/ We were forbidden to use the term
' monsieur/ When we went to the refectory, or
for a walk, we sang the ' Marseillaise,' or other
Republican hymns. The exploits of our armies
formed the chief subject of conversation ; and
some of the elder boys enrolled themselves among
the volunteers. We learnt drill, riding, fortifka-

J 88 Napoleon.

tion, etc. This military atmosphere tended to
make the manners of the pupils somewhat free-
and-easy ; and as for dress, thick boots, only
cleaned on the tenth day, gray socks, brown coat
and trousers, shirts tattered and ink-stained, no
necktie or cap, untidy hair, hands worthy of a
charcoal-burner, gave them a rough appearance
enough. ... As I have said, when I entered the
college at the end of 1793, the sanguinary rule of
the Convention was at its heaviest. Commissioners
were travelling the provinces, and nearly all those
who had any influence in the South came to visit
the establishment of Soreze. Citizen Ferlus had
a knack of his own for persuading them that it
was their duty to support an institution which was
training, in great numbers, young people who were
the hope of the country. Thus he got all that
he wanted out of them. Very often they allowed
him to have large quantities of faggots which
were destined for the supply of the armies, on
the plea that we formed part of the army, and
were its nursery.

" When these representatives arrived they
were received like Sovereigns ; the pupils put on
their military uniforms ; the battalion was drilled
in their presence ; sentries were placed at every
door, as in a garrison town ; we acted pieces
inspired by the purest patriotism ; we sang
national hymns. When they inspected the
classes, especially the history classes, an oppor-

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 189

tunity was always found of introducing some
dissertation on the excellence of Republican
government, and the patriotic virtues which
result from it. I remember in this connection
that the Deputy Chabot, who had been a Capuchin,
was questioning me one day on Roman history.
He asked me what I thought of Coriolanus, who,
when his fellow-citizens, forgetful of his old
services, had offended him, took refuge with the
Volsci, the Romans' sworn enemies. Dom Ferlus
and the masters were in terror lest I should
approve the Roman's conduct ; but I said that
a good citizen should never bear arms against
his country, nor dream of revenging himself on
her, however just grounds he might have for
discontent. The representative was so pleased
with my answer that he embraced me, and
complimented the head of the college and his
assistants on the good principles which they
instilled into their pupils."

in.

FIRST SIGHT OF NAPOLEON.

MARBOT was destined to make the acquaintance
at an early age of the mighty genius who was to
model his whole career and to shape the history
of all mankind. His father received a command
in Italy, and on his way there stopped at Lyons.
He was surprised to find the city en fctet and was

Napoleon.

informed that Napoleon had arrived. Napoleon
was supposed, at the time, to be in Egypt ; as a
matter of fact he was rushing to Paris in response
to a summons from the Abbe Sieyes. The sights
and scenes which he beheld at this period produced
a lasting effect on Marbot, as they did on the
mind of Daniel O'Connell, and made Marbot — as
they made O'Connell — a confirmed enemy of
revolutionary government. Marbot's description
will, perhaps, enable one, even in the present day,
to understand the sickness, the revolt, and the
reaction which destroyed the Republic, and
brought Napoleon and the Empire. The scene,
which I am about to quote, is exquisite. It shows
the father of Marbot meeting the man who was
then but a brother-officer with that mixture of
courtesy and distrust in which men all treat each
other when from equality, the one is just rising to
the higher position :

" The houses were all illuminated and beflagged ;
fireworks were being let off; our carriage could
hardly make its way through the crowd. People
were dancing in the open spaces, and the air
rang with cries of ' Hurrah for Bonaparte ! he
will save the country ! ' This evidence was
irresistible ; we had to admit that Bonaparte was
in Lyons. My father said, ' Of course I thought
they would bring him, but I never suspected it
would be so soon; they have played their game
well. We shall see great events come to pass.

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 191

Now I am sure that I was right in getting away
from Paris ; with the army I shall be able to serve
my country without being mixed up in a coup
d'etat. It may be as necessary as it seems, but
I dislike it altogether.' With that he fell into
deep thought, lasting through the tedious interval
required to make our way through the crowd,
which grew thicker at every step, and reach our
hotel.

" Arrived there, we found it hung with lanterns
and guarded by a battalion of grenadiers. They
had given General Bonaparte the apartments
ordered a week before for my father. Quick-
tempered though he was, he said nothing, and
when the landlord made somewhat confused
apologies to the effect that he had been compelled
to obey the orders of the Town Council, my father
made no answer. On hearing that a lodging had
been taken for us in a good hotel of the second
class kept by a relation of the landlord's, my
father confined himself to bidding M. Gault order
the postilions to drive there. When we got there
we found our courier ; he was an excitable man,
and being well-warmed by the numerous drams
which he had taken at every halting-place on his
long journey, had kicked up the devil's own row
on learning, when he preceded us at the first
hotel, that the apartments engaged for his master,
had been given to General Bonaparte. The
aides-de-camp, hearing this fearful uproar and

192 Napoleon.

learning the cause of it, went to let their chief
know that General Marbot had been thrown over
for him. At the same moment Bonaparte himself,
through the open window, perceived my father's
two carnages standing before the door. Up to
then he had known nothing of his landlord's
shabby behaviour towards my father, and seeing
that General Marbot, recently Commandant of
Paris, and at that moment at the head of a
division of the army in Italy, was too important
a man for any off-hand treatment, and that, more-
over, he himself was returning with the intention
of being on a good footing with everybody, he
ordered one of his officers to go down at once
and offer General Marbot to come and share his
lodging with him in soldier fashion. But the
carriages went on before the aide-de-camp could
speak to my father ; so Bonaparte started at once
on foot in order to come and express his regret
in person. The cheers of the crowd which
followed him as he drew near our hotel might
have given us notice, but we had heard so much
cheering since we entered the town that it
occurred to none of us to look out into the street.
We were all in the sitting-room, and my father
was pacing up and down plunged in meditation,
when suddenly a waiter, throwing open both
folding-doors, announced General Bonaparte.

" On entering he ran up to my father and
embraced him ; my father received him courteously

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 193

but coldly. They were old acquaintances, and
between persons of their rank a few words were
sufficient to explain matters with regard to the
lodging. They had much else to talk of, so they
went alone into the bedroom, where they conferred
together for more than an hour.

"General Bonaparte and my father returned
into the sitting-room, and introduced to each
other the members of their respective staffs.
Lannes and Murat were old acquaintances of my
father's, and he received them very cordially. He
was somewhat cold towards Berthier, whom he
had seen in old days at Marseilles when he was
in the body-guard and Berthier an engineer.
General Bonaparte asked me very courteously for
news of my mother, and complimented me in a
kind manner on having taken up the military
career so young. Then gently pinching my ear —
the flattering caress which he always employed
with persons with whom he was pleased — he said,
addressing my father : ( He will be a second
General Marbot some day.' His forecast has been
verified, though at that time I had little hope of
it. All the same, his words made me feel proud
all over — it doesn't take much to awaken the
pride of a child.

" The visit came to an end, and my father
gave no indication of what had passed between
General Bonaparte and himself; but I learnt

o

194 Napoleon.

later on that Bonaparte, without actually be-
traying his schemes, had endeavoured by the
most adroit cajoleries to enlist my father on
his side. My father, however, steadily evaded
the question.

" So shocked was he at the sight of the people
of Lyons running to meet Bonaparte, as if he
were already Sovereign of France, that he ex-
pressed a wish to get away next morning at
daybreak ; but his carriages required repair, and
he was forced to stay an entire day at Lyons.
I took the opportunity of getting a new forage
cap made, and in my delight at this purchase
I paid no sort of heed to the political conversa-
tion which I heard all about me, nor, to tell the
truth, did I understand much of it. My father
went to return General Bonaparte's visit. They
walked for a long time alone in the little garden
of the hotel, while their staffs kept at a respect-
ful distance. We saw them at one time
vigorously gesticulating, at another talking more
calmly ; presently Bonaparte, coming close to
my father with a coaxing air, took his arm in
a friendly fashion. His motive probably was
that the authorities, who were in the courtyard,
and the many curious spectators who were
crowding the neighbouring windows, might say
that General Marbot assented to General
Bonaparte's plans. For this clever man never
overlooked any means of reaching his end;

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 195

some people he gained, and wished to have it
believed that he had also won to his side those
whose sense of duty led them to resist him.
Herein his success was wonderful.

"My father came out from this second con-
versation even more thoughtful than from the
first, and on entering the hotel he gave orders
that we should proceed on the following day.
But General Bonaparte was going to make a
visit of inspection of the points in the neigh-
bourhood of the town suitable for fortification,
and all the post-horses had been engaged for
him. For the moment I thought that my father
would be angry, but he confined himself to
saying : ' There's the beginning of omnipotence.' "

IV.
NAPOLEON OFTEN DECEIVED.

THE next passage I will quote will show how
attentive Napoleon was to details, and yet how,
in spite of all his precautions, he was deceived.
The very terror which he inspired was often the
cause of his being kept in ignorance :

" The Emperor used as a rule to treat his
officers with kindness, but there was one point
on which he was, perhaps, over severe. He
held the colonels responsible for maintaining a
full complement of men in the ranks of their
regiments, and as that is precisely what is* most

O 2

196 Napoleon.

difficult to achieve on a campaign, it was just
on this point that the Emperor was most often
deceived. The corps commanders were so afraid
of displeasing him, that they exposed themselves
to the risk of being set to fight a number of
enemies out of proportion to the strength of
their troops, rather than admit that illness,
fatigue, and the necessity of procuring food
had compelled many of the soldiers to fall to
the rear. Thus Napoleon, for all his power,
never knew accurately the number of combatants
which he had at his disposal on the day of
battle. Now it befell that, while we were staying
at Brunn, the Emperor, on one of the rounds
which he was incessantly making to visit the
positions of the different divisions, noticed the
mounted chasseurs of his guard marching to
take up new lines. He was particularly fond
of this regiment, the nucleus of which was formed
by his Guides of Italy and Egypt. His trained
eye could judge very correctly the strength of
a column, and finding this one very short of
its number, he took a little note-book from his
pocket, and, after consulting it, sent for General
Morland, colonel of the mounted chasseurs of
the guard, and said to him in a severe tone:
' The strength of your regiment is entered on
my notes at twelve hundred combatants, and
although you have not yet been engaged with
the enemy, you have not more than eight hundred

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 197

troopers there. What has become of the rest ? '
General Morland, at fighting an excellent and
very brave officer, but not gifted with the faculty
of ready reply, was taken aback, and answered,
in his Alsatian French, that only a very small
number of men were missing. The Emperor
maintained that there were close upon four
hundred short, and to clear the matter up he
determined to have them counted on the spot;
but knowing that Morland was much liked by
his staff, and being afraid of what their good
nature might do, he thought that it would be
safer if he took an officer who belonged neither
to his household nor to the guard, and, catching
sight of me, he ordered me to count the chasseurs,
and to come and report their number to him in
person. Having said this, he galloped off. I
began my operation, which was all the more
easy that the troopers were marching at a walk
and in fours."

It is a proof of the wonderful accuracy of
Napoleon's eye that his estimate on this occasion
turned out to be correct almost to a unit. But
Marbot, unable to withstand the appeal of the
commander, backed up by that of the surgeon
who had stood beside his father's death-bed,
declared to the Emperor that they were only
eighty instead of four hundred short. Marbot
delayed his report until evening, fearing that if
he told his lie to the Emperor during the day,

198 Napoleon.

and while he was on horseback, he would go back
to the chasseurs and himself count the regiment.
When nightfall came Marbot approached the Im-
perial head-quarters :

" I was taken in, and found him lying at full
length on an immense map spread on the floor.
As soon as he saw me he called out, ' Well,
Marbot, how many mounted chasseurs are there
present in my guard ? Are there twelve hundred
of them, as Morland declares ? ' ' No, sir, I only
counted eleven hundred and twenty, that is to say,
eighty short.' ' I was quite sure that there were a
great many missing/ The tone in which the
Emperor pronounced these last words proved that
he expected a much larger deficit; and, indeed, if
there had been only eighty men missing in a
regiment of twelve hundred which has just
marched five hundred leagues in winter, sleeping
almost every night in the open air, it would have
been very little. So when the Emperor, on his
way to dinner, crossed the room where the
commanders of the guard were assembled, he
merely said to Morland, * You see now you've got
eighty chasseurs missing; it is nearly a squadron.
With eighty of these fellows one might stop a
Russian regiment. You must keep a tight hand
to stop the men from falling out.' Then passing
on to the commander of the foot grenadiers, whose
effective strength had also been much weakened,
Napoleon reprimanded him severely. Morland,

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 199

deeming himself very fortunate in getting off
with a few remarks, came up to me as soon as
the Emperor was at table, and thanked me warmly,
telling me that some thirty chasseurs had just
rejoined, and that a messenger arriving from Vienna
had fallen in with more than a hundred between
Znaym and Brunn and a good many more this
side of Hollabrunn, so that he was certain that
within forty-eight hours the regiment would have
recovered most of its losses. I was quite as
anxious for it as he, for I understood the difficulty
in which I had been placed by my excess of
gratitude towards Fournier. Such was my dread
of the just wrath of the Emperor, whose con-
fidence I had so gravely abused, that I could not
sleep all night.

" My perplexity was still greater the next day,
when Napoleon, during his customary visit to the
troops, went towards the bivouac of the chasseurs,
for a mere question addressed to an officer might
have revealed everything. I was, therefore, giving
myself up for lost, when I heard the bands in the
Russian encampment on the heights of Pratzen,
half a league from our outposts ; therefore, riding
towards the head of the numerous staff accom-
panying the Emperor, among whom I was, I got
as near to him as I could and said in a loud voice,
' There must surely be some movement going on
in the enemy's camp, for there is their band playing
marches.' The Emperor heard my remark, abruptly

2OO Napoleon.

quitted the path leading to the guard's bivouac, and
went towards Pratzen to observe what was going
on in the enemy's advance guard. He remained
a long time watching, and at the approach of night
he returned to Brunn without going to see his
chasseurs. Thus I remained several days in
mortal anxiety, although I heard of the successive
return of sundry detachments. Finally, the battle
being at hand, and the Emperor being very busy,
the idea of making the verification which I had so
much dreaded passed out of his thoughts, but I
had had a good lesson. So when I became colonel
and the Emperor questioned me on the number of
combatants present in the squadrons of my regiment,
I always told the exact truth."

v.
NAPOLEON'S DIPLOMATIC METHODS.

MARBOT, having told how Napoleon could be
deceived, proceeds to give an instructive instance
of how Napoleon could deceive. The scene,
which is about to be described, took place at
the critical moment when the King of Prussia
was still wavering between peace and war —
between joining in the coalition against Napoleon
or remaining neutral. To get some idea of what
Napoleon was doing, the King sent Herr von
Haugwitz on a diplomatic mission invented for
the occasion. It was just after the battle of

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 201

Bregenz, in which the army of Jellachich had
been beaten and captured ; and Napoleon's
purpose was to get information of this decisive
victory to the King of Prussia as soon as possible.
Here was the strategy employed :

" Duroc, the marshal of the household, after
giving us notice of what we were expected to
do, had all the Austrian colours which Massy
and I had brought from Bregenz, replaced
privately in the quarters which we were occupy-
ing. Some hours afterwards, when the Emperor
was talking in his study with Herr von Haugwitz,
we repeated the ceremony of presentation in
precisely the same manner as the first time.
The Emperor, on hearing music in the court of
his house, feigned astonishment, and went to the
window, followed by the ambassador. Seeing
the trophies borne by the sergeants, he called
the aide-de-camp on duty, and asked what it
all meant. The answer was that there were
two aides-de-camp of Marshal Augereau, who
were coming to bring the Emperor the colours
of Jellachich's Austrian army which had been
captured at Bregenz. We were ordered to enter,
and there, without winking, and as if he had
never seen us, Napoleon received the letter of
Augereau, which had been sealed up, and read
it, although he had known the contents for four
days. Then he questioned us, making us enter
into minutest details. Duroc had cautioned us

2O2 Napoleon.

to speak loud, because the Prussian ambassador
was a little deaf. This was unlucky for my
comrade and superior, Massy, since he had lost
his voice and could hardly speak ; so it was I
who had to answer the Emperor, and seeing
his plan, I depicted in the most vivid colours
the defeat of the Austrians, their dejection, and
the enthusiasm of the French troops. Then,
presenting the trophies one after another, I
named all the regiments to which they had
belonged, laying especial stress upon two, the
capture of which was likely to produce the
greatest effect upon the Prussian ambassador.
' Here/ said I, ' are the colours of the Emperor
of Austria's own regiment of infantry; there is
the standard of his brother, the Archduke
Charles's, Uhlans/ Napoleon's eyes sparkled, and
seemed to say, 'Well done, young man.' Then
he dismissed us, and as we went out we heard
him say to the ambassador, 'You see, Count,
my armies are winning at all points ; the Austrian
army is annihilated, and very soon the Russian
army will be so/ Von Haugwitz appeared
greatly upset, and as soon as we were out of
the room, Duroc said to me, c This evening the
diplomat will write to Berlin to inform his
Government of the destruction of Jellachich's
army. This will somewhat calm the minds of
those who are keen for war with us, and will
give the King of Prussia fresh reasons for

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 203

temporising, which is what the Emperor ardently
desires.'

" The comedy having been played, the
Emperor wished to get rid of an awkward
witness who might report the positions of his
army, and so hinted to the ambassador that to
stay between two armies all ready for an engage-
ment might be a little unsafe for him. He bade
him go to Vienna to M. de Talleyrand, his
Minister for Foreign Affairs — advice which Herr
von Haugwitz followed that same evening. The
next day the Emperor said nothing to us about
yesterday's performance, but, wishing no doubt
to evince his satisfaction at the way in which
we had seized his idea, he asked tenderly after
Major Massy's cold, and pinched my ear, which
was with him a sort of caress."

VI.
AUSTERLITZ.

ONE of the most vividly-described battles in the
whole book is Austerlitz. Even the non-military
reader can feel himself carried away by the
briskness, vividness, and horror of the narrative.
I give one or two extracts :

" Marshal Soult carried not only the village
of Pratzen, but also the vast tableland of that
name, which was the culminating point of the
-whole country, and consequently the key of the

204 Napoleon.

battle-field. There, under the Emperor's eyes, the
sharpest of the fighting took place, and the
Russians were beaten back. But one battalion,
the 4th of the line, of which Prince Joseph,
Napoleon's brother, was colonel, allowing itself to
be carried too far in pursuit of the enemy, was
charged and broken up by the Noble Guard and
the Grand Duke Constantine's cuirassiers, losing
its eagle. Several lines of Russian cavalry quickly
advanced to support this momentary success
of the guards, but Napoleon hurled against them
the Mamelukes, the mounted chasseurs, and the
mounted grenadiers of his guard under Marshal
Bessieres and General Rapp. The melee was
of the most sanguinary kind ; the Russian
squadrons were crushed and driven back beyond
the village of Austerlitz with immense loss. Our
troopers captured many colours and prisoners,
among the latter Prince Repnin, commander of
the Noble Guard. This regiment, composed of
the most brilliant of the young Russian nobility,
lost heavily, because the swagger in which they
had indulged against the French having come
to the ears of our soldiers, these, and above
all the mounted grenadiers, attacked them with
fury, shouting as they passed their great sabres
through their bodies: 'We will give the ladies
of St. Petersburg something to cry for ! ' "

Here one sees the hideous and bestial ferocity
which war begets. And then comes a passage

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 205

in which there is a glimpse of the curious limita-
tions which soldiers place on themselves :

" The painter Gerard, in his picture of the
battle of Austerlitz, has taken for his subject the
moment when General Rapp, coming wounded
out of the fight, and covered with his enemies'
blood and his own, is presenting to the Emperor
the flags just captured and his prisoner, Prince
Repnin. I was present at this imposing spectacle,
which the artist has reproduced with wonderful
accuracy. All the heads are portraits, even that
of the brave chasseur who, making no complaint,
though he had been shot through the body, had
the courage to come up to the Emperor, and fell
stone dead as he presented the standard which he
had just taken. Napoleon, wishing to honour his
memory, ordered the painter to find a place for
him in his composition. In the picture may be
seen also a Mameluke, who is carrying in one
hand an enemy's flag and holds in the other
the bridle of his dying horse. This man, named
Mustapha, was well known in the guard for his
courage and ferocity. During the charge he had
pursued the Grand Duke Constantino, who only
got rid of him by a pistol-shot, which severely
wounded the Mameluke's horse. Mustapha,
grieved at having only a standard to offer to the
Emperor, said in his broken French as he pre-
sented it : ' Ah ! if me catch Prince Constantine,
me cut him head off and bring it to Emperor ! '

206 Napoleon.

Napoleon, disgusted, replied : ' Will you hold your
tongue, you savage ? ' '

And now here is another scene in which, once
more, ferocity has the upper hand :

"The Emperor, whom we left on the plateau of
Pratzen, having freed himself from the enemy's
right and centre, which were in flight on the other
side of Austerlitz, descended from the heights of
Pratzen with a force of all arms, including Soult's
corps and his guard, and went with all speed
towards Telnitz, and took the enemy's columns
in rear at the moment when Davoust was attacking
in front. At once the heavy masses of Austrians
and Russians, packed on the narrow roadways
which lead beside the Goldbach brook, finding
themselves between two fires, fell into an in-
describable confusion. All ranks were mixed up
together, and each sought to save himself by flight.
Some hurled themselves headlong into the marshes
which border the pools, but our infantry followed
them there. Others hoped to escape by the road that
lies between the two pools ; our cavalry charged
them, and the butchery was frightful. Lastly, the
greater part of the enemy, chiefly Russians, sought
to pass over the ice. It was very thick, and five
or six thousand men keeping some kind of order,
had reached the middle of the Satschan lake, when
Napoleon, calling up the artillery of his guard, gave
the order to fire on the ice. It broke at countless
points, and a mighty cracking was heard. The

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 207

water, oozing through the fissures, soon covered
the floes, and we saw thousands of Russians, with
their horses, guns, and waggons, slowly settle down
into the depths. It was a horribly majestic
spectacle which I shall never forget. In an instant
the surface of the lake was covered with everything
that could swim. Men and horses struggled in
the water among the floes. Some — a very small
number — succeeded in saving themselves by the
help of poles and ropes, which our soldiers reached
to them from the shore, but the greater part were
drowned."

VII.
THE PATH OF GLORY.

IN the fight General Morland — the commanding
officer for whose sake Marbot had lied to the
Emperor — was killed ; the subsequent fate of his
remains gives Marbot the opportunity for telling
one of the most sardonic stones in the whole book :
" The Emperor, always on the look-out for
anything that might kindle the spirit of emulation
among the troops, decided that General Morland's
body should be placed in the memorial building
which he proposed to erect on the Esplanade des
Invalides at Paris. The surgeons, having neither
the time nor the materials necessary to embalm
the general's body on the battle-field, put it into a
barrel of rum, which was transported to Paris. But
subsequent events having delayed the construction

208 Napoleon.

of the monument destined for General Morland,
the barrel in which he had been placed was still
standing in one of the rooms of the School of
Medicine when Napoleon lost the Empire in 1814.
Not long afterwards the barrel broke, through
decay, and people were much surprised to find
that the rum had made the general's moustaches
grow to such an extraordinary extent that they
fell below his waist. The corpse was in perfect
preservation, but in order to get possession of it,
the family were obliged to bring an action against
some scientific man who had made a curiosity of
it. Cultivate the love of glory and go and get
killed, to let some oaf of a naturalist set you up in
his library between a rhinoceros horn and a stuffed
crocodile ! "

VIII.
NAPOLEON AND HIS TROOPS.

THE main interest of these volumes, of course,
is their picture of Napoleon ; and, accordingly,
I extract by choice the passages which refer to
him and help to complete his portrait. Here, for
instance, is an example of the manner in which he
managed to win the hearts of his soldiers :

" Our road lay by Aschaffenburg, whence we
went on to Wurzburg. There we found the
Emperor, who held a march-past of the troops of
the 7th corps, amid great enthusiasm. Napoleon,
who was in possession of notes about all the

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 209

regiments, and knew how to use them cleverly so
as to flatter the self-esteem of every one, said, when
he saw the 44th of the line, ' Of all the corps in
my army you are the one in which there are most
stripes, so your three battalions count on my line
for six.' The soldiers replied with enthusiasm,
' We will prove it before the enemy.' To the 78th
Light Infantry, composed mainly of men from
Lower Languedoc and the Pyrenees, the Emperor
said : * These are the best marchers in the army ;
one never sees a man of them fallen out, especially
when the enemy has to be met.' Then he added,
laughing, ' But to do you justice in full, I must
tell you that you are the greatest rowdies and
looters in the army.' ' Quite true, quite true ! '
answered the soldiers, every one of whom had
a duck, fowl, or goose in his knapsack."

IX.

THE RISE OF THE HOUSE OF ROTHSCHILD.

IN the course of his narrative of war and war's
alarms, Marbot stops to tell the well-known story
of the rise of the house of Rothschild. When
Napoleon had beaten the Prussians, he confiscated
the estates of the Elector of Hesse-Cassel as a
punishment for his vacillation between the two
warring monarchs :

" The avaricious sovereign had amassed a large
treasure by selling his own subjects to the English.

p

2io Napoleon.

They were employed to fight the Americans in the
War of Independence. Disloyal to his relations,
he had offered to ally himself to the French, on
condition that the Emperor would give him their
states, so nobody regretted him. But his hurried
departure was the cause of a remarkable incident
which as yet is little known.

"When forced to leave Cassel in a hurry to
take refuge in England, the Elector of Hesse, who
was supposed to be the richest man in Europe,
being unable to bring away the whole of his
treasures, sent for a Frankfort Jew, named
Rothschild, an obscure banker of the third rank,
known only for the scrupulous practice of his
religion. This seems to have decided the Elector
to entrust to him 15,000,000 francs in specie. The
interest of the money was to be the banker's, and
he was only to be bound to return the capital.

" When the palace of Cassel was occupied by
our troops the agents of the French Treasury
seized property of great value, especially pictures,
but no coined money was found, yet it appeared
impossible that in his hasty flight the Elector
could have carried away the whole of his immense
fortune. Now, since, by what are conventionally
called the laws of war, the capital and the interest
of securities found in a hostile country belong of
right to the conqueror, it became important to
know what became of the Cassel treasure. Inquiry
showed that before his departure the Elector had

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 211

passed a whole day with the Jew Rothschild. An
Imperial commission visited him and minutely
examined his safes and books ; but it was in vain ;
no trace of the Elector's deposit could be found.
Threats and intimidation had no success until the
commission, feeling sure that no personal interest
could induce a man so religious as Rothschild to
perjure himself, proposed to administer an oath to
him. He refused to take it. There was talk of
arresting him, but the Emperor, thinking this a
useless act of violence, forbade it. Then they had
resource to a not very honourable method. Un-
able to overcome the banker's resistance, they
tried to gain him over by the bait of profit. They
proposed to leave him half the treasure if he would
give up the other half to the French administration.
A receipt for the whole, accompanied by a deed of
seizure, would be given him to prove that he had
only yielded to force and to prevent any claim from
lying against him ; but the Jew's honesty rejected
this suggestion also, and his persecutors, tired out,
left him in peace. Thus the 15,000,000 francs
remained in Rothschild's hands from 1806 till the
fall of the Empire in 1814. Then the Elector
returned to his states, and the banker returned him
his deposit as he had received it You may
imagine the sum which a capital of 15,000,000
francs would produce in the hands of a Jew
banker of Frankfort. From this time dates the
opulence of the Rothschilds, who thus owe to

p 2

2 1 2 Napoleon.

their ancestor's honesty the high place which they
now hold in the finance of all civilised countries."

NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISE.

AFTER Napoleon's victory at Friedland, there
came, as is known, the interview between him
and the Emperor of Russia and King of Prussia
at Tilsit. Here took place an historic and charac-
teristic scene between Napoleon and the Queen :

" One day Napoleon went to call on the un-
fortunate Queen of Prussia, who was said to be
in great grief. He invited her to dinner on the
following day, which she accepted, doubtless much
against the grain. But at the moment of con-
cluding peace, it was very necessary to appease
the victor. Napoleon and the Queen of Prussia
hated each other cordially. She had insulted him
in many proclamations, and he had given it her
back in his bulletins.

" Yet their interview showed no traces of their
mutual hatred. Napoleon was respectful and
attentive, the Queen gracious and disposed to
captivate her former enemy. She had all need
to do so, being well aware that the treaty of
peace created, under the title of Kingdom of
Westphalia, a new state whose territory was to
be contributed by electoral Hesse and Prussia.

"The Queen could resign herself to the loss

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 213

of several provinces, but she could not make up
her mind to part with the strong place of Magde-
burg, the retaining of which would be Prussia's
safeguard. On his side, Napoleon, who proposed
to make his brother Jerome King of Westphalia,
wished to add Magdeburg to the new state. It is
said that in order to retain this important town,
the Queen of Prussia, during dinner, used all the
methods of friendliness until Napoleon, to change
the conversation, praised a superb rose that the
Queen was wearing. The story goes that she
said : * Will your Majesty have this rose in ex-
change for Magdeburg ? ' Perhaps it would be
chivalrous to accept, but the Emperor was too
practical a man to let himself be caught by a
pretty offer, and it is averred that while praising
the beauty of the rose and of the hand which
offered it, he did not take the flower. The Queen's
eyes filled with tears, but the victor affected not
to perceive it. He kept Magdeburg, and escorted
the Queen politely to the boat which was to take
her across to the other side."

XI.
NAPOLEON WOUNDED.

THERE is a popular and widespread delusion that
Napoleon was never wounded ; indeed, this is
taken as one of the many signs and tokens of that
demoniacal luck which for a long time marked

214 Napoleon.

his destiny. Marbot dissipates this, as well as
some other illusions. Here is a scene which took
place during the attack on Ratisbon :

"While waiting till everybody was ready,
Marshal Lannes had gone back to the Emperor
to receive his final orders. As they were chatting,
a bullet — fired, in all probability, from one of the
long-range Tyrolese rifles — struck Napoleon on
the right ankle. The pain was at first so sharp
that the Emperor had to lean upon Lannes, but
Dr. Larrey, who quickly arrived, declared that the
wound was trifling. If it had been severe enough
to require an operation, the event would certainly
have been considered a great misfortune for
France; yet it might perhaps have spared her
many calamities. However, the report that the
Emperor had been wounded spread through the
army. Officers and men ran up from all sides ; in
a moment Napoleon was surrounded by thousands
of men, in spite of the fire which the enemy's guns
concentrated on the vast group. The Emperor,
wishing to withdraw his troops from this useless
danger, and to calm the anxiety of the more
distant corps, who were getting unsteady in their
desire to come and see what was the matter,
mounted his horse the instant his wound was
dressed, and rode down the front of the whole line
amid loud cheers."

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 215

XII.
NAPOLEON AND THE GRENADIER.

HERE is another scene which gives a good picture
of the relations between Napoleon and his soldiers.
Marbot is still talking of the events before
Ratisbon :

" It was at this extempore review held in
presence of the enemy that Napoleon first granted
gratuities to private soldiers, appointing them
knights of the Empire and members, at the
same time, of the Legion of Honour. The
regimental commanders recommended, but the
Emperor also allowed soldiers who thought they
had claims to come and represent them before
him; then he decided upon them by himself.
Now it befell that an old grenadier who had
made the campaigns of Italy and Egypt, not
hearing his name called, came up, and in a calm
tone of voice, asked for the Cross. ' But/ said
Napoleon, * what have you done to deserve it ? '
' It was I, sir, who, in the desert of Joppa, when it
was so terribly hot, gave you a water-melon.' ' I
thank you for it again ; but the gift of the fruit is
hardly worth the Cross of the Legion of Honour.1
Then the grenadier, who up till then had been as
cool as ice, working himself up into a frenzy,
shouted, with the utmost volubility, 'Well, and
don't you reckon seven wounds received at the

2i6 Napoleon.

Bridge of Arcola, at Lodi and Castiglione, at the
Pyramids, at Acre, Austerlitz, Friedland ; eleven
campaigns in Italy, Egypt, Austria, Prussia,

Poland " but the Emperor cut him short,

laughing, and mimicking his excited manner
cried : ' There, there, how you work yourself up
when you come to the essential point ! That is
where you ought to have begun; it is worth
much more than your melon. I make you a
knight of the Empire, with a pension of 1,200
francs. Does that satisfy you ? ' ' But your
Majesty, I prefer the Cross.' 'You have both
one and the other, since I make you knight.'
'Well, I would rather have the Cross.' The
worthy grenadier could not be moved from that
point, and it took all manner of trouble to make
him understand that the title of knight of the
Empire carried with it the Legion of Honour.
He was not appeased on this point until the
Emperor had fastened the decoration on his
breast, and he seemed to think a great deal
more of this than of his annuity of 1,200 francs.
It was by familiarities of this kind that the
Emperor made the soldiers adore him, but it
was a means that was only available to a
commander whom frequent victories had made
illustrious ; any other general would have im-
paired his reputation by it."

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 217

XIII.
DETECTION OF A SPY.

THERE is an episode which shows Napoleon's
extraordinary readiness and fertility of resource.
It occurred just before the great battle of Wagram.
The scene is also interesting as showing the
curious fluctuations of feeling in Napoleon's
character :

" Knowing that the enemy was expecting
him to cross as before, between Aspern and
Essling, and that it was important to conceal
his plan of turning their position by crossing
opposite Enzersdorf, Napoleon had a careful
watch kept over all who entered the island by
the great bridges connecting it with Ebersdorf.
Every one on the island must have learnt the
secret towards the end of the time ; but as it
seemed certain that none were on it but French
soldiers or officers' servants, who were all guarded,
no danger was apprehended from inquisitiveness
on the enemy's part. This, as it turned out,
was a mistake ; for the Archduke had contrived
to introduce a spy among us. Just when he
was about to give information of the point which
we were going to attack, an anonymous letter,
written in Hungarian, was brought by a little girl
to the Emperor's Mameluke, Roustan, with the
warning that it was important and urgent. It

218 Napoleon.

was at first supposed to be a begging letter ;
but the interpreters soon translated it, and
informed the Emperor. He came at once to
the island, and ordered every soul — troops, staffs,
commissaries, butchers, bakers, canteen men, even
officers' servants — to be drawn up on parade. As
soon as every one was in the ranks, the Emperor
announced that a spy had found his way into
the island, hoping to escape notice among 30,000
men ; and, now that they were all in their places
he ordered every man to look at his neighbour
to right and left. In the midst of the dead
silence, two soldiers were heard to cry, ' Here is
a man we don't know/ He was arrested and
examined, and admitted that he had disguised
himself in a French uniform taken from men
killed at Essling. This wretch had been born
at Paris, and appeared very well educated.
Having ruined himself at play, he had fled to
Austria to escape his creditors, and there had
offered himself as spy to the Austrian staff. A small
boat used to take him across the Danube at
night, landing him a league below Ebersdorf,
and fetch him back the next night on a given
signal. He had already been frequently on the
island, and had accompanied detachments of our
troops going to fetch provisions or materials from
Ebersdorf. In order to avoid notice, he always
went to places where there was a crowd, and
worked with the soldiers at the entrenchments.

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 219

He got his meals at the canteen, passed the night
near the camps, and in the morning, armed with
a spade as though on his way to join a working
party, he would go all over the island and
examine the works, lying down among the
osiers to make a hurried sketch of them. The
next night he would go and make his report to
the Austrians, and come back to continue his
observations. He was brought before a court-
martial and condemned to death; but the bitter
regret which he expressed for having served the
enemies of France disposed the Emperor to
commute the penalty. When, however, the spy
proposed to deceive the Archduke by going to
make a false report on what he had seen, and
coming back to tell the French what the Austrians
were doing, the Emperor, disgusted at this new
piece of infamy, abandoned him to his fate, and
let him be shot."

XIV.
NAPOLEON AS HAROUN-AL-RASCHID.

AMID the many unpleasant impressions which
Taine's tremendous indictment of Napoleon leaves
on the mind, none is more odious than that left
by Taine's picture of the Emperor in his Court.
Rude, boorish, vulgar, inconsiderate to malignity,
mischievous to brutality, he is drawn — passing from
courtier to courtier, and even from lady to lady,
with a look that froze, a sneer that wounded, a

22O Napoleon.

question that was like a poisoned arrow. It is
only fair, then, to quote the following passage
from Marbot, which, though it does not present
Napoleon in a particularly amiable light, yet
gives an impression of naivete, good-humour, and
affability, not altogether consistent with Taine's
lurid and shocking picture.

Napoleon used to insist that his great officials,
to whom he gave magnificent salaries, should
entertain largely in order to encourage trade and
so keep Paris in good humour. Marescalchi,
who — as Marbot puts it — was ambassador for
Napoleon, King of Rome, to Napoleon, Emperor
of the French, was one of the most brilliant of
these entertainers, and he was especially re-
markable for his fancy-dress balls. At these
balls Napoleon was a constant visitor. He had
just been divorced from Josephine — it was the
year 1810 — but had not yet married Marie
Louise :

" Wearing a plain black domino and common
mask, and with Duroc, similarly disguised, on
his arm, Napoleon used to mix with the crowd
and puzzle the ladies, who were rarely masked.
The crowd, it is true, consisted of none but
trustworthy persons, because M. Marescalchi
always submitted his list to the Minister of
Police; and also because the assistant-adjutant-
general, Laborde, so well-known for his talents
in scenting a conspirator, was at the entrance of

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 22 r

the rooms, and allowed no one to enter without
showing his face and ticket and giving his name.
Agents in disguise went about, and a battalion of
the guard furnished sentries to every exit. These
precautions, however, were so well managed by
Duroc that, once in the room, the guests were
unconscious of any supervision."

It was at one of these balls that poor
Marbot was almost ruined by an importunate and

accidental acquaintance. Madame X } the

widow of an official, thought that her pension was
insufficient, and, having made vain application to
all the other members of the Imperial family, she
resolved finally to get at the Emperor himself.
By an oversight she managed to make her way
to the masked ball :

" The ball was on the ground-floor, card-tables
being on that above ; when I entered, the
quadrilles were going on, and a crowd was gazing
at the magnificent costumes. Suddenly, in the
midst of the silk, velvet, feathers, and embroideries,,
appeared a colossal female figure, clad in plain
white calico, with red corset, and bedizened
with coloured ribbons in the worst taste. This

was Madame X , who had found no better

way of displaying her magnificent hair than
dressing as a shepherdess, with a little straw
hat over one ear, and two large tresses down to
her heels. Her curious get-up, and the strange
simplicity of the dress in which she appeared in

222 Napoleon.

the brilliant assembly, drew all eyes towards her.
I had the curiosity to look that way, having

unluckily taken off my mask. Madame X ,

feeling awkward in the crowd of strangers, came
to me, and took my arm without more ado,
saying aloud, 'Now I shall have a partner.'"

xv.

MARBOT IN A TIGHT PLACE.

MARBOT managed, however, to make his escape,
and then this is what happened :

" Rid at length of this dreadful incubus, I
hastened up to the first floor, where, going through
the quiet card-rooms, I went and established
myself in a room at the far end, dimly lighted
by a shady lamp. No one being there, I took
off my mask, and was resting and consuming an
excellent ice, rejoicing in my escape, when two
masked men, short and stout, in black dominoes,
entered the little room. ' Here we shall be out of
the crowd/ said one ; then calling me by my name
without prefix, he beckoned me to him. I could
not see his face, but as I knew all the great
dignitaries of the Empire were in the house, I
felt sure that a man who could so imperatively
summon an officer of my rank must be an
important personage. I came forward, and the
unknown said in a whisper, ' I am Duroc : the
Emperor is with me. He is overcome by the

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 223

heat, and wishes to rest in this out-of-the-way
room ; stay with us, to obviate any suspicion on
the part of a chance enterer.' The Emperor sat
down in an arm-chair, looking towards a corner
of the room. The general and I placed ours
back to back with his so as to cover him, facing
the door, and began to chat, by the general's
wish, as if he were one of my comrades. The
Emperor taking off his mask, asked the general
for two handkerchiefs, with which he wiped his
face and neck; then, tapping me lightly on the
shoulder, he begged me (that was his term) to
get him a large glass of cold water, and bring
it myself. I went at once to the nearest buffet,
and filled a glass with iced water ; but as I was
about to carry it to the room where Napoleon
was, I was accosted by two tall men in Scotch
costume, one of whom said in my ear, 'Can
Major Marbot answer for the wholesomeness of
that water ? ' I thought I could, for I had taken
it at random from one of the many decanters
standing there for the use of all comers. Doubt-
less, these two persons were some of the police
agents who were distributed about the house
under various disguises to look after the Emperor
without worrying him by too ostentatious attention,
and moved about at a respectful distance, ready
to fly to his help if they were wanted. Napoleon
received the water which I brought him with so
much satisfaction that I thought he must be

224 Napoleon.

parched with thirst; to my surprise, however, he
swallowed only a small mouthful, then, dipping
the two handkerchiefs in the iced water, he told
me to put one on the nape of his neck while he
held the other to his face, repeating, 4 Ah ! that's
good, that's good ! J Duroc then resumed his chat
with me, chiefly about the recent campaign in
Austria. The Emperor said, ' You behaved very
well, especially at the assault on Ratisbon and
the crossing of the Danube ; I shall never forget
it, and before long I will give you a notable proof
of my satisfaction.' I could not imagine what this
new reward was to consist of, but my heart leapt
for joy. Then, oh woe ! the terrible shepherdess
appeared at the end of the little room. f Oh !
there you are, sir ! I shall complain to your
cousin of your rudeness/ she exclaimed. ' Since
you deserted me I have been all but smothered
ten times over. I had to leave the ball-room, the
heat is stifling. It seems comfortable here ; I
will rest here.' So saying, she sat down beside
me.

" General Duroc said nothing, and the Emperor,
keeping his back turned and his face in the wet
handkerchief, remained motionless ; more and
more so as the shepherdess, given free play to her
reckless tongue, and taking no notice of our
neighbours, told me how she thought she had
more than once recognised the personage whom
she sought in the crowd, but had not been able

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 225

to get at him. ' But I must speak to him/ she
said; 'he absolutely must double my pension. I
know that people have tried to injure me by saying
that I was free in my youth. Good heavens ! go
and listen for a moment to the talk down there
between the windows. Besides, what about his
sisters? What about himself? What does he
come here for, if not to be able to talk as he likes
to pretty women ? They say my husband stole ;
poor devil ! he took to it late, and was pretty
clumsy at it. Besides, have not his accusers
stolen too ? Did they inherit their town houses
and their fine estates? Didn't he steal in Italy,
Egypt, everywhere ? ' ' But, madame,' said I,
'allow me to remark that what you say is very
unseemly, and I am all the more surprised you
should say it to me, that I never saw you till this
morning/ ' Oh ! I speak the truth before any
one. And if he does not give me a good pension,
I will tell him, or write to him, what I think of
him pretty plainly. Oh ! I am not afraid of
anything.' I was on tenterhooks, and would
willingly have exchanged my situation for a cavalry
charge or a storming party. However, my agony

was alleviated by feeling that Madame X 's

chatter would clear my character with my two
neighbours when they heard that I had never
seen her till that morning, had not brought her
to the ball, and had got away from her as
soon as I could."

Q

226 Napoleon.

XVI.
THE END OF THE ADVENTURE.

" NEVERTHELESS, I was rather anxious about the
way in which this scene would end, when Duroc,
leaning towards me, said : ' Don't let this woman
follow us/ He rose. The Emperor had replaced

his mask while Madame X was raving at him,

and as he passed in front of her he said to me,
' Marbot, people who take an interest in you
are pleased to know that you never met this
charming shepherdess till to-day, and you would
do well to send her off to feed her sheep.' So
saying, Napoleon took Duroc's arm and went

out. Madame X , astounded, and thinking she

recognised them, wanted to dart after them. I
knew that, strong as I was, I could not hold
this giantess by the arm, but I seized her by the
skirt, which tore at the waist with a loud crack.
At the sound the shepherdess, fearing that if
she pulled she would presently find herself in
her shift, stopped short, saying, ' It's he ! it's he ! '
and reproaching me bitterly for having hindered
her from following. This I endured patiently
until I saw in the distance the Emperor and
Duroc, with the two Scotchmen following a little
way off, come to the end of the long suite of
rooms and reach the staircase. Judging, then, that
Madame X would not be able to find them

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 227

in the crowd, I made her a low bow without a
word, and went off as quick as I could. She
was ready to choke with rage, but feeling that
the lower part of her garment was about to desert
her, she said to me, ' At least, try to get me some
pins, for my dress is falling off.' But I was so
angry at her freaks that I left her in the lurch,
and I will even admit that I was mischievous
enough to rejoice at her awkward position. I
quickly left the house and returned home. I
passed a disturbed night, seeing myself in my
dreams pursued by the shepherdess, who, in spite
of my remonstrances, kept insulting the Emperor
horribly. Next day I went to cousin Sahuguet
to tell her the extraordinary conduct of her
dangerous friend. She was disgusted, and forbade

her house to Madame X , who a few days

after received orders to leave Paris, nor do I
know what became of her.

"The Emperor, as is well known, attended a
state mass every Sunday, after which there was a
grand reception at the Tuileries, open to every one
who had reached a certain rank in the civil or
judicial service, and to officers in the army. As
such I had the entree, of which I only availed
myself once a month. The Sunday following the
day on which the scene I have related took place I
was in perplexity. Ought I to show myself to
the Emperor so quickly, or would it be better to
let some weeks pass ? I consulted my mother,

Q, 2

228 Napoleon.

and her opinion was that as I was in no way to
blame in the affair, I had better go to the Tuileries,
and show no signs of embarrassment, which advice
I followed. The people who came to court formed
a rank on each side of the way to the chapel.
The Emperor passed in silence between them,
returning their salutes. He replied to mine by a
good-natured smile, which seemed to me of good
omen, and completely reassured me. After the
mass, as Napoleon went through the rooms again,
and, according to his custom, addressed a few
words to the people who -were there, he stopped
in front of me, and being unable to express him-
self freely in presence of so many hearers, he said
to me, sure that I should take his meaning : * I
am told that you were at Marescalchi's last ball ;
did you enjoy yourself very much ? ' ' Not the
least bit, sir.' ' Ah ! ' replied the Emperor, ' if
masked balls sometimes offer agreeable adven-
tures, they are apt also to cause very awkward
ones,. The great thing is to get well out of them,
and no doubt that is what you did/ As soon as-
the Emperor had passed on, General Duroc, who
was behind me, said in my ear : ' Confess that
there was a moment when you were in a con-
siderable fix ! So was I, indeed, for I am respon-
sible for all the invitations ; but it won't happen
again. Our impudent shepherdess is far away from
Paris, and will never come back/ "

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 229

XVII.
AFTER MOSCOW.

THERE is a vivid description of some of the
horrors of the Russian campaign, but the mention
of Napoleon is not frequent, and there is no
picture of him that stands out in bold relief. But
here is a passage which throws a singular and
clear light on France and her attitude to Napoleon
after these disasters. It is a picture the more
striking because it is drawn, not by a politician
or a philanthropist, but by a soldier who revelled
in war's perils and glories :

" The majority of the French nation still con-
fided in Napoleon. No doubt well-informed
persons blamed him for having forced his army
on to Moscow, and especially for having waited
there till winter; but the mass of the people,
accustomed to regard the Emperor as infallible,
and having, moreover, no idea of what had really
happened, or of the losses of our army in Russia,
saw only the renown which the capture of Moscow
had shed on our arms ; so they were eager to
give the Emperor the means of bringing victory
back to his eagles. Each department and town
was patriotically ready to find horses; but the
levies of conscripts and money soon chilled their
enthusiasm. Still, on 'the whole, the nation sacri-
ficed itself with a good grace, squadrons and

230 Napoleon.

battalions rising as if by magic from the ground.
It was astonishing that, after all the drafts of men
which France had undergone in the last twenty
years, never had soldiers of such good quality
been enlisted. This was due to several causes;
first, there had been for some years in each of
the hundred and twenty existing departments a
so-called ' departmental ' company of infantry —
a kind of praetorian guard to the prefects, and
formed by their picked men, who, being well
looked after and not overworked, had time to
grow to their full strength, and being regularly
drilled and exercised, needed only their ' baptism of
fire ' to make them perfect troops. The companies
varied in strength from one hundred to two
hundred and fifty men ; the Emperor sent them
all to the army, where they were merged in line
regiments. Secondly, a great number of conscripts
from previous years, who, for one reason or
another, had obtained leave to be placed at the
' tail ' of their depots, to wait until they were
required, were called up. They, too, as they
grew older, had nearly all become strong and
vigorous."

XVIII.
THE BLOOD TAX.

THERE is something strangely moving and
pathetic in this picture of the readiness of the
people of France to place themselves at the

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 231

mercy of their terrible ruler. Here is a con-
tinuation of the picture which will show how
thoroughly merciless were the exactions with
which Napoleon demanded the full tax of
blood :

" These were legal measures ; but not so
was the recalling of persons who had drawn a
lucky number at the conscriptions and thus
escaped service. All of these below the age of
thirty were required to serve. This levy, there-
fore, furnished a number of men fit to undergo
the fatigues of war. There was some grumbling,
especially in the south and west ; but so great
was the habit of obedience, that nearly all the
contingent went on duty. This submission on
the part of the people led the Government to
take a still more illegal step, which, as it touched
the upper class, was the more dangerous. After
having made men serve whom the ballot had
exempted, they compelled those who had quite
lawfully obtained substitutes to shoulder their
muskets all the same. Many families had em-
barrassed and even ruined themselves to keep
their sons at home, for a substitute cost from
12,000 to 20,000 francs at that time, and this
had to be paid down. There were some young
men who had obtained substitutes three times
over, and were none the less compelled to go ;
cases even occurred in which they had to serve
in the same company with the man whom they

232 Napoleon.

had paid to take their place. This piece of
iniquity was owing to the advice of Clarke,
the War Minister, and Savary, the Police Minister,
who persuaded the Emperor that, to prevent any
movement of opposition to the Government during
the war, sons of influential families must be got
out of the country and sent to the army, to act
in some sort as hostages. In order, however, to
reduce the odium of this measure somewhat, the
Emperor created, under the name of Guards of
Honour, four cavalry regiments formed of young
men of good education. They wore a brilliant
hussar uniform, and had generals for their
colonels.

" To these more or less legal levies, the
Emperor added the produce of a forestalled
conscription, and there were excellent battalions
formed of sailors, and artificers or gunners of
marine artillery, all well-set men trained in
handling arms, who had long been weary of
their monotonous life in ports, and were eager
to go and win glory along with their comrades
of the land forces. They soon became formidable
infantry, and amounted to 30,000. Lastly, the
Emperor further weakened the army in Spain
by taking from it not only some thousands of
men to replenish his guard, but whole brigades
and divisions of seasoned veterans."

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 233

XIX.

THE DEFEAT AT LEIPSIC.

EVERYBODY knows the story of the great battle
of Leipsic. Marbot reveals the secret of that
utter absence of any preparation for retreat,
which explained so much of the horrible blood-
shed, by which Napoleon's retreat after the battle
was followed.

" The Emperor's chief of the head-quarters'
-staff was Prince Berthier, who had been with
him since the Italian campaign of 1796. He
was a man of capacity, accuracy, and devotion
to duty, but he had often felt the effects of the
Imperial wrath, and had acquired such a dread
of Napoleon's outbreaks, that he had vowed in
no circumstance to take the initiative or ask any
question, but to confine himself to executing
orders which he received in writing. This system,
while keeping the chief of the staff on good
terms with his master, was injurious to the
interests of the army ; for great as were the
Emperor's activity and talents, it was physically
impossible for him to see to everything, and thus,
if he overlooked any important matter, it did
not get attended to.

" So it seems to have been at Leipsic.
Nearly all the marshals and generals command-
ing army corps pointed out to Berthier over

234 Napoleon.

and over again the necessity of providing many
passages to secure a retreat in the event of a
reverse, but he always answered, ' The Emperor
has given no orders.' Nothing could be got out
of him, so that when, on the night of the i8th,
the Emperor gave the order to retreat on Weissen-
fels and the Saale, there was not a beam or a
plank across a single brook."

This is one of the many instances in history
of the demoralisation which the uncontrolled
and despotic temper of a leader is apt to produce
in his subordinates. There is a significant passage
in the course of this description which shows how
far the Emperor had begun to lose his popularity,
even in the army :

" The Emperor came by, but as he galloped
along the flank of the column he heard none
of the acclamations which were wont to proclaim
his presence. The army was ill-Content with
the little care which had been taken to secure
its retreat."

xx.

NAPOLEON AS A FRIEND.

THROUGHOUT Marbot's narrative there is scarcely
a reflection which shows any strong reprobation
of Napoleon's methods or character ; indeed, our
Marbot is almost as free from any penetrating
sense of the horrors of war as though the soul
of old Froissart had passed into his. Never-

Napoleon, as he appeared to a Soldier. 235

theless, he cannot help, now and then, giving us
glimpses of the red and hideous ruin which
Napoleon had brought on France. Here is a
passage of sober but effective eloquence in which
Marbot paints France as she was in 1814 :

" Several military writers have expressed sur-
prise that France did not rise as in 1792 to repel
the invaders, or at least form, like the Spaniards,
a focus of national defence in every province. To
this the answer is, that twenty-five years of war,
and the conscription too frequently anticipated,
had worn out the enthusiasm which in 1792 had
improvised armies. The example of Spain does
not apply to France. Paris has been allowed to
gain too much influence, and unless she puts herself
at the head of the movement, France is help-
less. In Spain, on the other hand, each province,
being a little government, could act and raise an
army, even when the French held Madrid. France
was ruined by centralisation."

Marbot, as well as the other chroniclers, shows
Napoleon's softer side. He was very indulgent
to some of his lieutenants, especially to General
Lasalle, who seems to have been one of the greatest
scamps as well as one of the most brilliant soldiers
in the army.

" Lasalle had intimate relations with a French
lady in high society, and while he was in Egypt
their correspondence was seized by the English
and insultingly published by order of the Govern-

236 Napoleon.

ment — an act which even in England was blamed.
A divorce followed, and on his return to Europe
Lasalle married the lady. As general, Lasalle
was placed by the Emperor in command of the
advanced guard of the Grand Army. He dis-
tinguished himself at Austerlitz and in Prussia;
having the audacity to appear before Stettin and
summon the place with two regiments of hussars.
The Governor lost his head and brought out the
keys, instead of using them to lock the gates, in
which case all the cavalry in Europe could not
have taken it. This feat brought Lasalle much
credit, and raised the Emperor's liking for him to
a high point. Indeed, he petted him to an in-
credible degree, laughing at all his freaks, and
never letting him pay his own debts. Just as he
was on the point of marrying the lady to whom I
have referred, Napoleon had given him 200,000
francs out of his privy purse. A week later,
meeting him at the Tuileries, the Emperor asked,
'When is the wedding?' 'As soon as I have
got some money to furnish with, sir.' 'Why, I
gave you 200,000 francs last week ! What have
you done with them ? ' ' Paid my debts with half,
and lost the other half at cards ! ' Such an
admission would have ruined any other general.
The Emperor laughed, and, merely giving a sharp
tug to Lasalle' s moustache, ordered Duroc to give
him another 200,000 francs."

CHAPTER VI.
NAPOLEON'S CHIEF DETRACTOR.*

NAPOLEON interfered with and ruined many
careers; but in the long gallery of those on
whom he trampled in his march to greatness,
none is so remarkable as Barras.

This Barras was so utter and tremendous a
blackguard that one is tempted, in reading these
Memoirs of his, to forget that he was also very
brave, adroit, resourceful, and that he went within
an inch of being a very great man. This book
is intended to be a tremendous indictment of
Napoleon, but it turns out a tremendous indict-
ment of Napoleon's greatest enemy and assail-
ant. Most of the blows of Barras at the person
of Napoleon fall short, and even recoil on himself ;
but between Barras and Napoleon there was
probably less to choose than some critics have
said. To read the hot encounters of the two
is to be reminded of what a desperate game it

* " Memoirs of Barras." (London : Osgood & Mcllvaine.)

238 Napoleon.

was — how unprincipled, how reckless, and how
selfish were the men who fought over the body
of France. And finally, this book confirms the
opinion that Napoleon in real greatness was much
superior to all the rivals whom he cast down, and
especially to this one, who rises, as it were, from
the dead to continue the conflict.

NEARLY A GREAT MAN.

I HAVE said that Barras went very near to being a
great man. I base this statement mainly on the part
he played against Robespierre. Make what deduc-
tions you like — allow for change of circumstances,
for the growing disgust and revolt against the
cruelties of the Dictator and his universal guil-
lotine— the fact remains that Barras succeeded
where other of the mightiest spirits of the French
Revolution failed. Instead of following Danton
to the scaffold, as everybody would have thought
probable, Barras sent Robespierre there, and un-
doubtedly he was the inspirer, the leader, and
the spirit without whom the movement against
the omnipotent Dictator would have collapsed.
Corrupt, pleasure-loving, unprincipled — all these
things Barras was ; but, on the other hand, he was
capable, fearless, ready-witted, a born leader of
men. And while one must loathe his vices, is
there not, on the other hand, something singularly

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 239

human and picturesque in his strange, terrible,
and contradictory nature — with love and laughter
on the one side, and a struggle on the edge of the
precipice and at the foot of the guillotine on the
other — with the beautiful Madame Tallien and
Josephine Beauharnais on his arm, and on the
other hand, the tiger-eyes of Robespierre to face
and to subdue ?

ii.

BARRAS AND ROBESPIERRE — A CONTRAST.

WHAT merit these Memoirs have is not in the
least due to grace of style. Barras was not a
very articulate man. He was, above all things,
a man of action. In the tribune he was rarely
effective; his pen is clumsy, cold, uninspired. But
to a certain extent that is one of the charms of
these Memoirs. I find it thrilling and convincing
to read an account such as he gives — dry, un-
pretentious, matter-of-fact — of some of the wildest
and most terrible scenes of the Revolution —
notably of that day of days when he and
Robespierre were in the death-grip. And indeed,
I find something else in the absence of all grace
from these accounts. Napoleon used to say that
he was always on his guard against generals who
made pictures to their imaginations. He wanted
the man who saw what was right in front of him
without haze or illusion, or thoughts coloured by
wishes. Barras made no pictures to his imagina-

240 Napoleon.

tion. Around Robespierre he saw none of the
halo, either of worshipping reverence or awe-struck
horror, with which either admiration or hatred
endowed him. Barras simply saw an enemy who
would kill if he weren't killed ; he went for the
enemy with straight, direct, and clear - eyed
simplicity, while others paused, vacillated, and
debated ; and so was successful where others had
failed. Of the two men, Robespierre was in
private virtuous, spotless, and the other, in private
vices, almost unsurpassable. It is, indeed, the
revolt of a corrupt, vicious, laughter-loving man
of the world against saintly austerities, that is
in action in the fight between Barras and
Robespierre ; but whatever the faults and crimes
of Barras, posterity shares the joy of his con-
temporaries at his victory over the Sea-green
Incorruptible, for it was, after all, the victory of
humanity over the pitiless cruelty of a fanatic.

in.

THE INCORRUPTIBLE AT HOME.

WHEN Barras returned to Paris after the suc-
cessful siege of Toulon, where first he and Napoleon
were brought into contact, there were already
rumours that he had begun that career of
peculation in which he was to surpass all his con-
temporaries. Robespierre had no toleration for
any such form of political crime ; and, doubtless,

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 241

he had marked out Barras as one of the " corrupt
men " of whom the sanguinary guillotine was to
rid the nation. Barras, doubtless, felt this too,
and this adds a terrible interest to the account
which these Memoirs give of the interview between
the two men. One can almost read between its
lines the deadly hate, the mutual terror, the
severe examination of each other's resources,
which these duellists were already feeling before
they crossed swords in the fight to the death.

Here is the account Barras gives of the inter-
view:

"I finally resolved on calling upon this
almightiness, this representative of Republican
purity, the incorruptible one par excellence. I
had never had more than a passing glimpse of
Robespierre, either on the benches or in the hall-
ways of the Convention ; we had never had any
personal intercourse. His frigid attitude, his
scorn of courtesies, had imposed on me the
maintenance of a reserve which my self-pride
dictated to me when in face of an equal. Freron
considered our safety depended on this visit,
so we wended our way to the residence of
Robespierre. It was a little house situated in
the Rue Saint-Honore, almost opposite the Rue
Saint-Florentin. I think it no longer exists
nowadays, owing to the opening made to create
the Rue Dupont just at that spot. This house
was occupied and owned by a carpenter, by name

242 Napoleon.

Duplay. This carpenter, a member of the
Jacobin Club, had met Robespierre at its
meetings; with the whole of his household, he
had become an enthusiastic worshipper at the
shrine of the popular orator, and had obtained
for himself the honour of securing him both as
boarder and lodger. In his leisure moments
Robespierre was wont to comment on the ' Emile '
of Jean Jacques Rousseau, and explain it to the
children of the carpenter, just as a good village
parish priest expounds the Gospel to his flock.
Touched and grateful for this evangelistic soli-
citude, the children and apprentices of the worthy
artisan would not suffer his guest, the object of
their hero-worship, to go into the street without
escorting him to the door of the National Con-
vention, for the purpose of watching over his
precious life, which his innate cowardice and the
flattery of his courtiers were beginning to make
him believe threatened in every possible way by
the aristocracy, who were seeking to destroy the
incorruptible tribune of the people. It was
necessary, in order to reach the eminent guest
deigning to inhabit this humble little hole of a
place, to pass through a long alley flanked with
planks stacked there, the owner's stock-in-trade.
This alley led to a little yard from seven to
eight feet square, likewise full of planks. A
little wooden staircase led to a room on the
first floor. Prior to ascending it we perceived

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 243

in the yard the daughter of the carpenter Duplay,
the owner of the house. This girl allowed no
one to take her place in ministering to Robes-
pierre's needs. As women of this class in those
days freely espoused the political ideas then
prevalent, and as in her case they were of a
most pronounced nature, Danton had surnamed
Cornelie Copeau 'the Cornelia who is not the
mother of the Gracchi.' Cornelie seemed to be
finishing spreading linen to dry in the yard ; in
her hand were a pair of striped cotton stockings,
in fashion at the time, and which were certainly
similar to those we daily saw encasing the legs
of Robespierre on his visits to the Convention.
Opposite her sat Mother Duplay between a pail
and a salad-basket, busily engaged in picking
salad-herbs."

IV.
A MEMORABLE INTERVIEW.

BUT I must hurry on to the interview :

" Robespierre was standing, wrapped in a sort
of chemise peignoir; he had just left the hands
of his hairdresser, who had finished combing
and powdering his hair ; he was without the
spectacles he usually wore in public, and piercing
through the powder covering that face, already
so white in its natural pallor, we could see a
pair of eyes whose dimness the glasses had
until then screened from us. These eyes fastened

R 2

244 Napoleon.

themselves on us with a fixed stare, expressive
of utter astonishment at our appearance. We
saluted him after our own way, without any
embarrassment, and in the simple fashion of the
period. He showed no recognition of our
courtesy, going by turns to his toilet-glass hang-
ing to a window looking out on the courtyard,
and then to a little mirror, intended, doubtless,
as an ornament to his mantelpiece, but which
nowadays set it off; taking his toilet-knife, he
began scraping off the powder, mindful of
observing the outlines of his carefully-dressed
hair; then, doffing his peignoir, he flung it on
a chair close to us in such a way as to soil our
clothes, without apologising to us for his action,
and without even appearing to notice our presence.
He washed himself in a sort of wash-hand basin
which he held with one hand, cleaning his teeth,
repeatedly spat on the ground right at our feet,
without so much as heeding us, and in almost
as direct a fashion as Potemkin, who, it is known,
did not take the trouble of turning the other
way, but who, without warning or taking any
precaution, was wont to spit in the faces of
those standing before him. This ceremony over,
Robespierre did not even then address a single
word to us. Freron thought it time to speak,
so he introduced me, saying, c This is my
colleague, Barras, who has done more than
either myself or any military man to bring

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 245

about the capture of Toulon. Both of us have
performed our duty on the field of battle at
the peril of our lives, and we are prepared to
do likewise in the Convention. It is rather
distressing, when men have shown themselves
as willing as ourselves, not to receive simple
justice, but to see ourselves the object of the
most iniquitous charges and the most monstrous
calumnies. We feel quite sure that at least
those who know us as thou dost, Robespierre,
will do us justice, and cause it to be done us.'
Robespierre still remained silent; but Freron
thought he noticed, by an almost imperceptible
shadow which flitted over his motionless features,
that the thou, a continuation of the revolutionary
custom, was distasteful to him, so, pursuing the
tenor of his speech, he found means of im-
mediately substituting the word you, in order
to again be on good terms with this haughty
and susceptible personage. Robespierre gave no
sign of satisfaction at this act of deference ; he
was standing, and so remained, without inviting
us to take a seat. I informed him politely that
our visit to him was prompted by the esteem
in which we held his political principles; he
did not deign to reply to me by a single word,
nor did his face reveal the trace of any emotion
whatsoever. I have never seen anything so
impassible in the frigid marble of statuary or
in the face of the dead already laid to rest. . . .

246 Napoleon.

Such was our interview with Robespierre. I
cannot call it a conversation, for his lips never
parted ; tightly closed as they were, he pursed
them even tighter ; from them, I noticed, oozed
a bilious froth boding no good. I had seen all I
wanted, for I had had a view of what has since
been most accurately described as the tiger-cat"

It would be a waste of the time of the
reader to dwell on the points in this narrative
which are intensely interesting. The simplicity
and even squalor of the' surroundings of the
mighty master of life and death, his sinister
looks, his appalling silence — all these things the
most hurried reader can find for himself in the
passage. Its sense of reality and of life is
overwhelming.

v.

DANTON.

I CANNOT dwell on the passages in which Barras
describes the closing conflicts between Robespierre
and the other Revolutionaries, but there is not
a line in this portion of the Memoirs which is
not intensely vivid; the more so for the reason
I have already given — that the narrative has
the matter-of-fact unpretentiousness of daily life.

Take as an example this scene, which occurred
just a few days before Danton's execution :

"As I was leaving the Convention one day
in the company of Danton, Courtois, Freron, and

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 247

Panis, we met in the Cour du Carrousel several
deputies who were members of the secret com-
mittees. Danton, going towards them, said to
them, 'You should read the Memoirs of Philip-
peaux. They will supply you with the means
of putting an end to this Vendean war which
you have undertaken with the view of rendering
your powers necessary.' Vadier, Amar, Vouland,
and Barrere charged Danton with having caused
these Memoirs to be printed and circulated.
Danton merely replied, ' I am not called upon
to vindicate myself.' Thereupon an angry dis-
cussion ensued, degenerating into personalities.
Danton threatened the members of the Committee
that he would take the floor in the National
Convention, and charge them with malversations
and tyranny. The others withdrew without
replying, but bearing him no goodwill. I said
to Danton, ' Let us at once return to the National
Convention ; take the floor ; you may rest assured
of our support, but do not let us wait until to-
morrow, for there is a likelihood of your being
arrested to-night/ 'They would not dare to/
was Danton's contemptuous rejoinder ; then
addressing himself to me, he said, ' Come and
help us to eat a pullet.' I declined. Brune,
the friend, and up to that time the inseparable
aide-de-camp of Danton, was present. I re-
marked to Brune, ' Guard Danton carefully, for
he threatened where he should have struck.' "

248 Napoleon.

In this " Come and help us to eat a pullet,"
there is that human touch necessary to remind
us that even in those apocalyptic times, men,
who were in the very heart of the cyclone, went
about their business and their pleasures pretty
much as we all do in ordinary times.

VI.

ROBESPIERRE'S LUST FOR BLOOD.

THE account of the execution of Danton adds
nothing to the details we have already known ;
but there are some statements about Robespierre
which I have not seen anywhere before. They
strike me as not like the truth — as mere
invention :

" It has been stated that, not content with
having seen the victims pass his house, Robespierre
had followed them to the place of execution, that
he had contemplated them with ferocious satis-
faction in the different phases of their agony;
lastly, that the insatiable tiger, rendered more
bloodthirsty by the sight, appeared to be licking
his jaws and gargling his throat with the blood
flowing in torrents from the scaffold into the Place
de la Revolution. But if his joy was complete at
the very moment when Danton's head fell, he is
said by some mechanical instinct to have put his
hand to his neck, as if to make sure that his own
head was on his shoulders. He was making no

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 249

mistake in believing that his head was now more
than ever in jeopardy since that of Danton had
fallen. It may be said that at that moment the
power of Robespierre renounced its main support
— that of the trust reposed in him by the patriots.
He sought to conceal himself amid the masses
surrounding the guillotine, but, as if already
pursued by a celestial vengeance, he was seen to
wend his way homewards with tottering steps, as
if he had lost his balance."

Here is a small but eloquent proof of the
terrible ascendency Robespierre exercised over
the Convention :

" Such was the terror produced by Robespierre
that a member of the National Convention who
thought the gaze of the Dictator was fixed upon
him, just as he was putting his hand to his
forehead in musing fashion, quickly withdrew it,
saying : * He will suppose that I am thinking of
something.' "

VII.
FOUQUIER-TINVILLE.

FINALLY, from this portion of the Memoirs I must
quote the passages in which Barras, with a terrible
and grim humour — which gives us some idea of the
iron nature of the man, and of its haughty scorn of
human nature — describes the obsequiousness of
Fouquier-Tinville, and the other wretches who

250 Napoleon.

had been the joyous instruments of Robespierre's
tyranny.

" When Robespierre, together with Couthon and
Saint-Just, were arraigned before the Revolutionary
Tribunal, merely for the purpose of having their
identity established, since they were outlawed and
nothing remained but to hand them over to the
executioner, Fouquier-Tinville, the Public Prosecutor
(performing the duties of the officer of the law
nowadays called procureur-general}, was in a state
of agitation hardly to be imagined — he who up
to that very moment had gone every day, even but
yesterday, to take the orders of Robespierre
and Saint-Just in regard to all the unfortunate
people whom it pleased them to send to the scaffold,
to see himself directly, and by a superior and in-
evitable will, entrusted with the duty of bringing
to the same scaffold the men who had been first
chosen, so to speak, as organisers of slaughter,
and, to say the very least, actual dictators ! Fou-
quier's embarrassment in so critical a conjunction
may be conceived; he doubtless could say to
himself with some show of reason and presenti-
ment : ' Mutato nomine de te. . . .' I could not
blame him for the sort of embarrassment I
noticed in his whole person at the moment of
fulfilling a like duty. Fouquier-Tinville had
already made an attempt to apologise for his
behaviour with regard to the condemned men
themselves. ' I am well aware that it is not

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 251

I/ he said, ' who am sentencing ces messieurs ' (for
this was the only allowable appellation, the word
monsieur having been struck out of the language),
' since they are outlaws, and that in the present case
the tribunal merely applies the penalty ; I am well
aware that it is my duty, and even my right, to
urge on justice and to guide it ; what I am doing
to-day is in one respect less than what I was
doing yesterday, for yesterday we gave judg-
ments on our own responsibility, while to-day we
are merely executing the decree of the National

Convention ; but yet ' I could not see when

this ' but yet ' was going to stop, and in what way
Fouquier-Tinville would get rid of his hesitation ;
there was a danger of its increasing during the
surrounding confusion. I saw that there was no
time to be lost, and that it was necessary to instil
courage into the head of the Revolutionary
Tribunal. I am thus designating Fouquier-
Tinville ; I would have called him the soul of it,
could one believe such monsters possessed a soul.
' Come now, citizen Fouquier/ I exclaimed in a
loud but cold, imperious voice, ' the National Con-
vention have commissioned me to see its orders
carried out ; I give you the one to proceed without
further delay with the fulfilment of your mandate.
This is the day to show oneself a patriot by
sending the guilty ones forthwith to the scaffold
awaiting them.' Fouquier did not require a
second warning. He at once took his place

252 Napoleon.

on the bench, doffed his little cape, his hat with
the brim turned up a la Henri IV., summoned
the judges, repeated the fatal formula against
Robespierre, Couthon, Saint- Just, and the whole
of the frightful band with as much firmness as on
the previous day he had pronounced the formula
' by and in the name of Robespierre.' All the
forms of the ceremonial were completed in short
order ; in less than half an hour the condemned
men had, to use the judge's phraseology, ' their
toilet made, their boots greased/ and could go to
their destination. ... So I urged on Fouquier,
saying, * Come now, let us make a start.' ' We
will start at once/ replied Fouquier quickly, and
even with really triumphant alacrity ; ' but where
shall we take them to ? ' ' Why, to the usual
place, where so many have preceded them/ ' But/
said Fouquier to me in an undertone, with an air
of respectful and intimate confidence, ' for a week,
citizen representative, we have been sending our
condemned to the Barriere du Trone ; we have
given up using the Place de la Revolution/
' Return to it, then/ I said, with a determined
gesture ; ' the way to it shall be past Robespierre's
house ; the prophecy must be fulfilled ! ' ' Poor
Danton/ said Fouquier-Tinville, with an air of
being moved to pity, 'there was a patriot for
you ! ' believing, the knavish and cruel Fouquier,
that he could obliterate by this appearance of
regret the fact that he, Fouquier, had been

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 253

Danton's primary murderer ! . . . Fouquier bowed
humbly, and said to the Clerk of the Court and
the escort of gendarmes, * To the Place de la
Revolution ! ' In less than two hours, the clerk,
the ushers, the gendarmes, with Fouquier-Tinville
still at their head, arrived at the Committee of
Public Safety, and all, speaking almost together and
with combative eagerness, gave me an account of
the execution as of a triumph thoroughly accom-
plished. The terrible Robespierre was at last
launched into the eternal night, and slept side
by side with Louis XVI. . . . The spectators,
impatient of .and, it may truly be said, hungering
for the death of Robespierre, had not allowed the
sigh of deliverance to escape their bodies until
after they had convinced themselves of the con-
summation'of the execution by the unquestionable
evidence of the head severed from the trunk and
rolling into the basket of the executioner. Well,
then, even after the execution there seemed to
reign an almost general kind of fear of the
possible resurrection of the implacable man whose
inexorable speeches and sentences, without appeal,
had so cruelly tortured human minds. The news-
papers were uncertain whether they should venture
to publish even the fact. The Moniteur^ already
more than official (for it has always belonged to
the victorious side), especially shrank from this
its primary duty; it was only twenty-six days
later, i.e. on the 6th Fructidor following, that this

254 Napoleon.

Moniteur made up its mind to record the most
colossal and decisive fact of modern times, not
only for France, but for Europe and the whole
human race."

VIII.
TWO NOTORIOUS WOMEN.

NOT a member of the whole family of Napoleon
is spared by Barras. There is a picture of the
mother and sisters of Napoleon which seeks to
confirm some of the worst charges made against
the Imperial family. It is a squalid and an odious
picture, but I am not prepared to say of it, as of
other pictures in the book, that it is untrue. A
lack of morality of any kind was undoubtedly one
of the marked characteristics of the Napoleonic
race.

However, it is on poor Josephine that Barras is
most severe. The pages which he devotes to her
are among the most infamous in literature. But it
is my business to let Barras speak for himself.

The two women who were credited with
exercising the greatest influence over him at
the moment when he was practically Dictator
of France, were Madame Tallien and Madame
Josephine de Beauharnais. This is how he speaks
of them :

" Madame Tallien, since the ninth Thermidor,
had shown herself in all public places, even at the
theatres, winning undisputed supremacy over her

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 255

sex. She was the feminine dictator of beauty.
As I was one of those who had been instrumental
in saving her life previous to the ninth Thermidor,
I had remained on a footing of intimacy with her,
not to be interrupted by my accession to the
Directorate. Those who, in all the relations of
life, consider only the means which can procure
them access to those in power, believed that
Madame Tallien, having possibly granted certain
favours, consequently exercised a certain sway
over me, and appealed to her, some under the
cloak of passion, others under that of devotion,
friendship, enthusiasm, or admiration. Madame
Tallien did not abuse this position to any too
great extent, seeking, it is true, in all this a happy
way of supplementing her fortune — a very small
one at the time, and one she was compelled to
share with her husband, who possessed none,
either because he had earned little money, or
from the reason that he had run through it quickly.
Madame Tallien might, therefore, busy herself in
good earnest to pick up the money she judged
necessary for her maintenance ; but it must be
admitted that money, in the case of Madame
Tallien, was not the main object, but the means of
obtaining the pleasures she was fond of or which
she procured for others. I must in this connection
point out a distinction which the acquaintances of
Madame Tallien and Madame Beauharnais agreed
n establishing between these two gentlewomen, to

256 Napoleon.

wit, that the liaisons of Madame Tallien were for
her genuine enjoyment, to which she brought all
the ardour and passion of her temperament. As
for Madame Beauharnais, it was the general belief
that her relations, even with the men whose
physical advantages she best appreciated, were not
so generous as those of Madame Tallien. Even
although the physical basis appeared to be with
Madame Beauharnais the origin of her liaison,
determined by an involuntary impulse, her liber-
tinism sprang merely from the mind, while the
heart played no part in the pleasures of her body ;
in a word, never loving except from motives of
interest, the lewd Creole never lost sight of
business, although those possessing her might
suppose she was conquered by them and had
freely given herself. She had sacrificed all to
sordid interests, and, as was said of a disreputable
woman who had preceded her in this style of
turning matters to account, ' she would have
drunk gold in the skull of her lover.' When
compared to Madame Tallien, it did not seem
possible that Madame Beauharnais could enter
into competition with her in the matter of physical
charms. Madame Tallien was then in the height
of her freshness ; Madame Beauharnais was be-
ginning to show the results of precocious de-
crepitude."

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 257

IX.
THE SYMMETRY OF BARRAS'S VILLAINY.

I AM sure every reader of this, and of the passages
I shall have still to quote, will feel a sentiment of
intense disgust. Of all dishonours, there is none
so base as that known as "kissing and telling."
Barras does more. He not only tells, but he
makes the weakness or the affection which women
displayed to himself the basis of a charge and an
enduring hatred against them. Up to the present
he has given no instance of any wrong — either of
ingratitude or desertion — which he suffered at the
hands of the beautiful Madame Tallien ; and yet
he not only reveals his relations with her, but goes
out of his way to represent her as self-seeking,
lewd, and base. In the code of honour among
men with any pretence to heart, or even to
decency, I should put it as almost the first article
that association with a woman had made her ever
afterwards — amid change, after separation, even
after desertion — a sacred being to be protected,
above all things to be respected and to be spared.
But what a light these revelations of Barras
throw on the meanness of his dark and cold soul !
There is something to me positively appalling in
this bit of self-portraiture. When I come across a
man complete and perfect in vice, I at once feel
as if I were face to face with some terrible portent
of nature. And this man — willing to receive the

s

258 Napoleon.

endearments of words and of acts of some of the
most beautiful, fascinating, and tender women of
the period, and maintaining amid every scene of
passion and affection, with the background of the
guillotine, and all the horrors and abysses of the
time — maintaining amid all this the same coldness
of heart, the same frigid outlook of the eye — it
is a picture of a human being which makes me at
once bewildered and aghast ! Robespierre must
have been blind in that great interview between
him and Barras not to have seen the depths of
inflexibility, cruelty, and resolve which were in the
eyes of Barras. Or would it not be more correct
to say that Robespierre was too clear-sighted, and
that his frozen silence — his refusal to utter even
one word, to give an indication by one look — was
his instinctive sense of the kind of man with
whom he was dealing ? Robespierre was a highly
nervous and sensitive man ; his enemies declare
that he was an arrant coward. He certainly had
not firmness of nerve. In the weeks that preceded
the final struggle for his life he went to a shooting-
gallery to steady his nerves by pistol practice.
He fainted after the first shot !

TWO PORTRAITS — BARRAS AND ROBESPIERRE.

LOOK at the portraits of the two men which are
in these volumes; and, perchance, they may

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 259

modify, if not revolutionise, your conception of
them, and of the events in which they took part.
The portrait confirms the feeling of surprise I re-
member to have experienced when first I saw that
authentic likeness of Robespierre of which Lord
Rosebery is the owner. I loathe Robespierre, and
thus I have to confess that this portrait is un-
pleasantly startling to me. To my imagination
the Sea-green Incorruptible always appeared as
having a long face, with straight, regular, icy-cold
features. The portrait that looks on one from this
book is that of a man with a short, rather chubby
face ; the cheeks are full and round ; the nose is ir-
regular, with broad nostrils, and a slight tendency
to the snub; the air is almost boyish, and is
gentle, even tender and rather sad. In short, if
I had been shown the portrait without knowing
the name or the nationality, I should have said
it was the portrait of an Irishman ; and I might
have even gone the length of guessing that it was
the portrait of John Philpot Curran, the celebrated
Irish orator and patriot, beautified and idealised.
And I may mention, as some extenuation of this
impression, that I have read somewhere that
Robespierre had some Irish blood in his veins.

The portrait of Robespierre faces the first
volume of these Memoirs, that of Barras faces
the second. And what a contrast! I am con-
vinced that any physiognomist in the world who
was asked to say which was the cruel monster

s 2

260 Napoleon.

and which the kindly and genial nature, would
at once reverse the verdict of history, and see
in Robespierre the hero of mercy, and in Barras
the embodiment of cruelty. There is the dis-
tinction of the aristocrat about Barras. He
appears tall, shapely, erect; a haughty and hard
self-confidence in his attitude. And then, that
face ! The mouth is large, well-shaped, as tight
as a rat-trap; the nose is long, regular, dis-
tinguished ; and even through the spectral black
and white of an engraving, the eyes still seem
to burn and stare with brilliant and steel-like
glitter. It is a terrible face.

In "A Strange Story "—Bui wer Lytton's best
story — there is a spectre that strikes death as it
passes. It is called the Scin-lceca, if I remember
rightly after nearly a quarter of a century, and the
doomed one shudders as it passes and strikes.
Barras was the Scin-lceca of Robespierre. It was
no wonder that he was awed and paralysed into a
frozen silence as Barras passed.

XI.

NAPOLEON AND JOSEPHINE.

FROM Josephine, Barras passes to Napoleon, and
he is as severe on the future husband as on the
wife :

" Bonaparte, who knew of all her adventures
just as well as I did, had often heard the story

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 261

of them told in my presence ; but in consequence
of his intention, not to say his eagerness, to reach
his goal by all possible means, he had looked
upon the two gentlewomen whom I mention in
the light of means to this end; and whether it was
that Madame Tallien's beauty had, at the same
time, captivated him, or whether he believed, as
reputed, that she possessed greater influence than
Madame Beauharnais, it was to Madame Tallien that
he in the first place addressed his vows and respectful
attentions. This was soon followed by a declara-
tion of what he called his unconquerable passion.
Madame Tallien replied to the little enamoured
Corsican in a contemptuous fashion, which left
him no hope. She even went so far as to say
to him ironically that ' she thought she could do
better. . . .' After such a defeat Bonaparte con-
sidered that, beaten in one direction, he might
do better in another, so he conceived the idea
of paying his court to Madame Beauharnais, and
as he had some knowledge of her interested cha-
racter and her cupidity, that prominent feature* of
it with which he was acquainted, he bethought him-
self of opening the door with the key that never
finds any door closed. He therefore began to
make Madame Beauharnais presents which suited
her courtesan's taste in matters of dress and
jewellery. Not only did he give her shawls and
expensive and elegant jewellery, but diamonds of
considerable value. This would have constituted

262 Napoleon,

an act of madness had it not been one of specula-
tion. Something of this came to my ears, so
censuring the young man, however amiable a per-
sonage he might be, for subjecting himself to the
necessity of beginning by paying an old woman,
I said to Bonaparte, ' It seems that you have
taken La Beauharnais for one of the soldiers of the
thirteenth Vendemiaire, whom you should have
included in the distribution of money. You would
have done better to have sent this money to your
family, which needs it, and to whom I have just
rendered further assistance.' Bonaparte blushed,
but did not deny having made presents of con-
siderable value. As I was bantering him about his
generosity, wherein I pretended to see the effects
of a boundless passion, he himself began to laugh,
and said to me, ' I have not made presents to my
mistress ; I have not sought to seduce a virgin ; I
am one of those who prefer love ready made than
to make it myself. . . . Well, then, in whichever
of these states Madame Beauharnais may be, if
the relations between us were really serious, if the
presents which you blame me for having made were
wedding presents, what, then, would you have to
find fault with, citizen Director ? — " This woman
whom you accuse," said Tallien, after the ninth
Thermidor, " this woman is mine ! " — I do not in-
tend to give you absolutely the same answer just
now, but I might say to you, Were this woman to
become mine, what would be the objection ? ' 'I

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 263

have no objection to make ; still, it is a matter
deserving some thought.' At the time of the siege
of Toulon, 'theeing and thouing' had taken
the place of you, from the soldier to the general
and from the general to the soldier. Hence it
was that I had acquired the habit of ' theeing
;and thouing ' Bonaparte. I said to Bonaparte as
familiarly as heretofore : ' Is it seriously meant,
what thou hast just told me ? I have just thought
over thy idea of marriage, and it seems less ridi-
culous to me than at first sight/ 'In the first
place, Madame Beauharnais is rich/ answered Bona-
parte with vehemence. He had been deceived by
the lady's external luxury, ignorant of the fact
that the unfortunate creature depended for her
existence on loans contracted in Paris on the
imaginary credit of property in Martinique,
which she was far from possessing, since her
mother still lived ; and, as the latter troubled
herself very little about her daughter, whose
dissoluteness she was acquainted with, she con-
tented herself with sending her a meagre allow-
ance, which she had of late cut down and even
suspended remitting, owing to a series of poor
harvests. The widow Beauharnais lived at Fon-
tainebleau in a state bordering on misery. The
greater part of the year she quartered herself on
Madame Doue, a Creole like herself, without whose
relief she would have lacked the first necessaries.
She would come to Paris by the public stage-

264 Napoleon.

coach (petites voitures), her daughter Hortense was
apprenticed to a dressmaker, and her son to a
carpenter; this was either very philosophical or
very unmotherly of her, since she could find means
for her toilette, which, at all periods, was ever
that of a courtesan. ' Well/ said I to Bonaparte,
' since you are seriously asking my advice, I will
answer you in your own words ; why should you
not ? Your brother Joseph has shown you the

way to marriage ; the X dowry has put an

end to his financial straits. You tell me that you
are at your wits' end for money, and that you
cannot afford to lose any more time over the
matter; well, then, marry; a married man has a
standing in society, and can better resist the
attacks of his enemies ; you think you have many
of them amongst the Corsicans ; if you have luck
you will make friends of them, beginning with
Saliceti, whom you dread. There is nothing like
success to win over everybody to one's side.' "

XII.

JOSEPHINE'S TEARS.

THE next passage I shall quote has a cer-
tain comic force that almost relieves its black-
guardism :

" A few days later it was Madame Beauharnais*
turn to come and confide in me. Actuated as
she was by motives of interest, she did not display

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 265

any reserve in confessing them to me at the very
outset of her visit ; she began by laying down in
most plain terms that no impulse of the heart was
at the bottom of this new bond ; that the little
' puss in boots ' is assuredly the very last she could
have dreamed of loving, as he had no expectations,
'He belongs to a family of beggars,' she said,
'which has failed to win respect wherever it has
dwelt ; but he has a brother who has married well
at Marseilles, who promises to help the others,
and him. He seems enterprising, and guarantees
he will soon carve his fortune.' Madame Beau-
harnais confesses to me that he has made her
presents of a magnificence which has led her to
believe that he is possessed of greater means than
people wot of. ' As regards myself/ she says to
me, ( I have not seen fit to inform him of my
straitened circumstances ; he believes I am now in
the enjoyment of a certain fortune, and is under
the impression that I have great expectations over
in Martinique. Do not impart to him anything
you know, my good friend ; you would be spoiling
everything. Since I do not love him, you can
understand my going into the business ; 'tis you I
will ever love, you may depend on it. Rose will
always be yours, ever at your disposal, you have
only to make a sign ; but I know full well that
you no longer love me,' she proceeded, suddenly
bursting into tears, which she had the power of
summoning at pleasure ; ' this is what grieves me

266 Napoleon.

most ; never will I console myself for it, do what
I may. When one has loved a man like you,
Barras, can one ever know another attachment ? '
* How about Hoche ? ' I replied with very little
emotion, and almost laughing ; ' you loved him
above all others, and yet there was the aide-de-
camp, Vanakre, e tutti quanti ! . . . Come now,
you are a mighty fine cajoler.' This was the
mildest and truest word that could be spoken to
her; to cajole all who came in contact with her
was the trade of Madame Beauharnais, a veritable
chevalier (Tindustrie, so to speak, in town and at
Court, from the day she had been imported from
her island of Martinique into France. My answer
took her breath away, and unable to utter any
reply in the face of such positive facts, she con-
tented herself with shedding some more tears,
seizing my hands with all her might, and carrying
them to her eyes, so as to bedew them with her
tears. I was getting tired of this scene, and,
not knowing how to put an end to it, I adopted
the course of ringing, so as to have my valet as a
third party. This compelled her to cease ; Madame
Beauharnais was a true actress, who knew how to
play several parts at one and the same time. She
told my valet that she had suddenly felt poorly,
that her nerves troubled her, and that on such
occasions she could not hold back her tears ; that
I had just ministered to her as a brother would to
his sister, and that she now felt a great deal better.

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 267

I took advantage of this improvement to order my
carriage, to send Madame Beauharnais home in it,
and thus I was rid of her. ' In your indisposed
state you cannot return home alone/ I said to her.
I ordered one of my aides-de-camp to accompany
her. Her tears had suddenly dried up ; her
features so discomposed but a moment ago had
resumed their placidity and pretty ways, and their
habitual coquettishness. On returning my aide-
de-camp told that the lady reached her house in
excellent health. A few sighs had escaped her
during the drive homeward, and the only words
spoken by her had been, ' Why do people have a
heart over which they have no control ? Why did
I ever love a man like Barras ? How can I cease
loving him ? How can I tear myself from him ?
How can I think of any other but him ? Tell him
from me, I entreat you, how deeply I am devoted
to him ; that I will never love but him, whatever
happens to me in this world. . . .' My aide-de-
camp further informed me that just as the carriage
reached Madame Beauharnais' house, Bonaparte
was there waiting for her at the door. Embarrassed
at being accompanied by my aide-de-camp, Madame
Beauharnais hurriedly steps out of the carriage,
asks Bonaparte to give her his arm, and tells him
hastily in the presence of my aide-de-camp, whom
she called to witness, that she had just 'had a
fainting fit at my house ; that she had so suffered
that I would not hear of her returning home alone,

268 Napoleon.

and that she had hardly recovered her strength.
Give Barras my best thanks,' she adds, on dismis-
sing my aide-de-camp, ' and tell him that you left
me with his best friend.' "

XIII.
HER STORY TO NAPOLEON.

I PASS on to some scenes that are so atrocious in
language and in thought that I have hesitated for
a long time whether I should have them or not ;
but, after all, the characters of Napoleon and
Josephine have passed into history, and there is no
room left for any reticence about them. And I
believe they will injure most their author :

" My best friend was there waiting impatiently
to learn the result of the step he had been the first
to advise. Everything had been fully concerted
between the pair, but each of them was vying in
deceiving the other with astounding readiness.
The following is an illustration of the way in
which they played their farce. As a consequence
of having told Bonaparte of her alleged indisposi-
tion, it was necessary to give some reason for this
indisposition to the man who was about to become
her protector for life. I heard some time after-
wards of the story the cajoling courtesan had
invented. According to her I had a long while
courted her without success ; she had constantly
repulsed my advances because I was not the man

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 269

to appeal to her so delicate soul. In consequence
of her harsh treatment of me I had sought to
console myself with Madame Tallien, whom I had
selected out of spite only, remaining attached to
her out of amour propre alone ; and I so little
cared for her, she went on to say, that I had
offered to give her up at once for Madame Beau-
harnais, if the latter would become my mistress ;
were she to be believed I had been more pressing
than ever on this last occasion, and my violence
had led to a struggle during the course of which
she had fainted ; but the recollection of the one
she loved, the mere thought of Bonaparte, had
restored all her strength to her, and she had come
out victorious, desirous of bringing to the near
bond to which she had given her consent all the
purity of a widow faithful to the memory of her
husband, and a virginity often more precious than
the first, since it represents a resolution of the
heart and the will of reason. Bonaparte listened,
with no small emotion, to this lying concoction,
worthy, indeed, of the most artful of women, but
whom he, artful as he was himself, looked upon as
an angel of candour and truth. All this made
such an impression on him that he flew into a
passion against me, ready in his fury to go to
extremes, even to call me out for having attempted
an assault on the virtue of his future wife. Madame
Beauharnais quieted him with caresses and words,
which plainly showed that she dreaded nothing so

270 Napoleon.

much as a scandal which would have revealed the
secret of the comedy played by her, and proved,
besides, that so far from my seeking to do violence
to Madame Beauharnais, I was long since tired of
and bored with her. ' I am quite sure,' said Bonaparte
to her, ' from what you tell me, that Barras failed
in his attempts on your virtue, madame, in spite
of his not having the reputation of a sentimental
lover in the habit of sighing at the feet of cruel
beauties. But I have for so long seen you on a
certain intimate footing with him that doubts
might truly have arisen in any other mind than
mine ; you will admit, madame, that it is allow-
able to think, without showing oneself too severe,
that women seeking to hold him at arm's length
should at least take earlier steps, so as not to be
exposed to a scene like the one you have just told
me of. There are accidents for which a woman is
responsible when she has not taken means to
prevent them.' It would be thought that Madame
Beauharnais would have been abashed by such
excellent reasoning, but it will be seen what ruses
were at the service of the courtesan. ' Why/ she
argued, ' had she not called at Barras' house would
she have been fortunate enough to meet Bona-
parte ? If she had of late gone there more fre-
quently than before, had it not always been from
a desire to meet him more often? If she had
perchance overlooked many things repugnant to
the elegance and delicacy of her morals, would she

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 271

ever have done so had it not been for the conside-
ration, ever present to her mind, of rendering some
service to her future husband ? For, when all is
said and done, if Barras' manners are somewhat
rough and outspoken, he is, on the other hand, a
good sort of fellow, and very obliging ; he is a true
friend, and if once he takes an interest in you, you
may feel sure he will not desert you, but give you
a warm support. Let us, therefore, take men and
things as we find them. Can Barras be useful to
us in his position ? Undoubtedly he can, and to
good purpose. Let us, therefore, get all we can
out of him, and never mind the rest ! ' ' Oh/
exclaimed Bonaparte with enthusiasm, ' if he will
but give me the command of the Army of Italy I
will forgive everything. I will be the first to show
myself the most grateful of men ; I will do honour
to the appointment, and our affairs will prosper ;
I guarantee that ere long we shall be rolling in
gold/ Later on, taking a higher stand-point,
Bonaparte has called this glory. But ' gold ' was
the nai've expression uttered in the presence of the
woman he considered a meet person to become
his partner in life ; quite independently of his
personal need and desire of making a fortune, the
artful Corsican had guessed aright that the means
of winning Josephine was money. He had begun
his success by giving her presents ; this success was
assured when he promised that he would make
her 'roll in gold were he but commander-in-

272 Napoleon.

chief/ 'Let us work together,' they thereupon
said mutually ; ( let us keep our secret to our-
selves, act together, and do our best to obtain the
appointment promptly.' "

XIV.
BARRAS'S MOST DEADLY CHARGE.

BARRAS proceeds to give another scene in which
the statements are even more detestable and
shocking. His statements amount to this : that
Josephine, accompanied by Napoleon, came to
see Barras, penetrated into his cabinet, and there
invited her own dishonour. And this is followed
by the even more atrocious suggestion that Na-
poleon not only knew, but approved this hideous
traffic for the sake of getting the command in
Italy. This is the deadliest of all the charges
Barras makes against Napoleon ; is it true ?

I have not a high opinion of the morality of
Napoleon, or of any of his family, but I do not
believe this charge. It is possible that Josephine
was frail — it is the almost universal belief that she
was ; but I believe the evidence shows that at this
moment at least, in his life, Napoleon was really
in love with her. I will give later on the love-
letters in which Napoleon poured forth from Italy
all the passion and tenderness which this woman
inspired in him — a passion and tenderness largely
due, probably, to the fact that she was the first

Napoleon's Chief Detractor. 273

lady he had ever met in the course of his squalid
and poverty-stricken youth. It is not in the least
likely that Napoleon would have consented to
buy even a prize so lofty as the command in Italy
at the price of that woman's honour.

And, indeed, Barras is contradictory of his
own story. In one page Napoleon figures as a
dupe, in the next as a conscious intriguer; now
he is madly jealous ; the next moment he is more
indifferent to the acts of his future wife than the
beast in the field.

I agree with the summary of this part of the
case which I find in the preface by M. Duruy,
the unwilling editor of these Memoirs. It appears
to me as true, kind, and judicious.

" True, Bonaparte may have later entertained
doubts, suspicions as to Josephine's virtue. And,
indeed, it must be confessed that the indiscretions
of this most charming, but also most frivolous, of
women, furnished matter enough for grievous
discoveries. Look at her portrait by Isabey,
which dates precisely from that period. This
bird-like head, all dishevelled, expresses coquetry,
thoughtlessness, an undefinable frailty and incon-
sistency, characteristic, perhaps, even then, as it
had been in the past, of her virtue. It is none the
less a certainty that Bonaparte believed in her,
and loved her ardently and blindly ; that passion
alone made him wish for and resolve upon this
marriage; and that, if any one calculated in

T

274 Napoleon.

this affair, it might possibly have been Josephine,
but at all events it was not the man of genius,
desperately smitten, smitten ' like a fool/ who
was dying with love at the feet of this pretty
doll."

I have sufficiently indicated my opinion of
Barras, He was undoubtedly one of the greatest
men of his time, but it was a greatness founded
on utter baseness. The vindication which he has
published of himself only tends to confirm the
impression which posterity was inclined to form
of him with the materials already at its disposal.
It is curious that a man should, under his own
hand, have supplied the evidence by which con-
jecture should be turned into certainty, suspicion
into unquestioning conviction.

CHAPTER VII.
JOSEPHINE.*

THE memoirs of Barras leave so bad a taste in
the mouth that it is necessary to seek some violent
relief; and my next essays will be taken from the
writings of those whose admiration for him was
unstinted.

With the first of the volumes which supply the
material for this portion of the volume, I shall
have to deal briefly. The Count de Segur is very
interesting, especially to military readers, but he
goes over ground which I have already traversed.

The volume is mainly interesting as an anti-
dote to the " Memoirs of Madame de Remusat,"
whose pictures of Napoleon's personality and
Court supplied Taine with the chief material for
his indictment.

The reader will not have forgotten the truly

* " An Aide-de-Camp of Napoleon : Memoirs of General
Count de Sdgur." Translated by H. A. Patchett Martin.
(London : Hutchinson.) " Napoleon and the Fair Sex."
Translated from the French of Frederic Masson. (London :
Heinemann.) " The Private Life of Napoleon." Translated
from the French of Arthur Levy. (London : Bentley.)

T 2

276 Napoleon.

odious picture of Napoleon's Court which I
quoted from Taine. I put in contrast with this
the picture which is drawn by M. de Segur..
Writing of 1802, M. de Segur exclaims: "No
epoch was more glorious for Paris. What a
happy and glorious time! The whole year has
left on my memory the impression of a realisation
of the most brilliant Utopias, a spectacle of the
finest galas, and that of a grand society restored
to all good things by the presiding genius."

And then he goes on to give this interesting
and agreeable picture of Napoleon at home :

" The First Consul in his more personal sur-
roundings had initiated many ingenious amuse-
ments, and given the signal for an almost universal
joy.

"True, his household was divided into two
parties, but kept in check by the firmness of their
chief, they remained in the shade. These were,
on one hand, the Beauharnais ; on the other,
Napoleon's own family. The marriage of Louis
Bonaparte with Hortense de Beauharnais on July
1 7th, 1802, appeared to have put an end to these
differences, so that peace seemed to pervade
everything, a domestic peace which was not one
whit more durable than the other peaces of this
epoch. But at first this alliance, and several other
marriages amongst the younger members of Na-
poleon's family, increased the general cheerful
disposition of mind by the addition of their honey-

Josephine. 277

moon happiness. The well-known attractions and
wit of the sisters of the First Consul, the many
graces of Madame Bonaparte and her daughter,
and the remarkable beauty of the young brides
who had just been admitted into this fascinating
circle, above all the presence of a real hero, gave
an indefinable charm and lustre to this new. Court,
as yet unfettered by etiquette, or any other tie
than the former traditions of good society.

" Our morning amusements at Malmaison con-
sisted of country-house diversions in which Na-
poleon used to take part, and in the evening of
various games, and of conversations, sometimes
light and sparkling, sometimes profound and
serious, of which I still find records in my note-
book. The Revolution, philosophy, above all, the
East, were the favourite topics of the First Consul.
How often, as night drew on, even the most
youthful amongst these young women, losing all
count of time, would fancy they could see what
he was describing, under the charm of his admi-
rable narratives, so vividly coloured by a flow of
bold and novel illustration, and his piquant and
unexpected imagery."

The reader will also remember the passage in
which Taine describes the infectious weariness of
Napoleon at the play. Segur has a different story
to tell :

" The other amusements of his household con-
sisted in private theatricals, in which his adopted

278 Napoleon.

children and ourselves took part. He sometimes
would encourage us by looking on at our re-
hearsals, which were superintended by the cele-
brated actors, Michaud, Mole, and Fleury. The
performances took place at Malmaison before a
select party. They would be followed by concerts,
of Italian songs principally, and often by little
dances where there was no crowding or confusion,
consisting, as they did, of three or four quadrille
sets with plenty of space between each. He
would himself dance gaily with us, and would
ask for old-fashioned tunes, recalling his own
youth. These delightful evenings used to end
about midnight."

There is an anecdote which presents Napoleon
in a pleasant light :

" One evening, at St. Cloud, when he was
describing the desert, Egypt, and the defeat of
the Mamelukes, seeing me hanging on his words,
he stopped short, and taking up from the card-
table, which he had just left, a silver marker — a
medal representing the combat of the Pyramids — •
he said to me, ' You were not there in those days,
young man/ ( Alas, no/ I answered. 'Well,' said
he, 'take this and keep it as a remembrance/ I
need hardly say that I religiously did so, the proof
of which will be found by my children after me."

And, finally, here is Segur's summary of Na-
poleon's demeanour to his dependents, illustrated
by quite a pretty story :

Josephine. 279

" Such was his usual amenity, concerning
which I remember that one day when our out-
bursts of laughter in the drawing-room were
interrupting his work in the adjoining study, he
just opened the door to complain that we were
hindering him, with a gentle request that we
should be a little less noisy."

There are many passages in S6gur which show
the Marshals of Napoleon in a far from favour-
able light Their ambition, their selfishness, their
murderous jealousy of each other, shock and appal
— especially when one sees thousands of the lives
of brave men sacrificed to passions so ignoble.
These pictures also enable one to take a different
view of Napoleon's treatment of these men than
that to which Taine has given such fierce expres-
sion. It will be remembered that Taine bitterly
complains that Napoleon appealed only to the
basest elements in these men ; that he exploited
their selfishness, their ambition, their vices, and
their weaknesses. After one has read S^gur and
some other authorities, one is tempted to come to
the conclusion that if Napoleon acted on these
motives in his subordinates, it was because these
motives were the only ones to which he could
appeal.

I pass from this point and from Se*gur to
another and an even more fervid eulogist of the
great Emperor.

M. Albert Levy devotes two bulky volumes to

280 Napoleon.

the record of the smallest incidents of Napoleon's
life, with extracts from not scores but hundreds of
memoirs in which he forms the central figure ; and
this work — evidently the result of years of patient
labour — is devoted to proving that of all men who
have lived Napoleon was the most generous, the
most unselfish, and the most patriotic.

I cannot accept this estimate ; but in the pages
of M. Levy's intensely interesting volumes there
is the satisfaction of feeling that Napoleon is
restored to something of human shape. He is
there neither god, nor demon, nor angel — though
M. Levy would have him angelic — but a human
being, with plenty of human weaknesses, affec-
tions, and even considerateness, athwart all his
iron strength, callousness, and voracious ambition.

EARLY YEARS.

NAPOLEON'S early years were, as we already
know, full of all the straits and miseries of genteel
poverty. His father, as everybody knows, was an
easy-going, thriftless, helpless creature, who died
at an early age of cancer in the stomach — the only
heritage, as Taine sardonically remarks, which he
left to his great son. It was from his mother that
Napoleon inherited most of his qualities. She
came of a commercial family, partly Swiss in
origin, and at an age " when most girls are think-

Josephine. 281

ing of marriage she was studying order, economy,
and careful management/' It was from her that
Napoleon inherited what M. Levy calls "those
instincts of honesty, of excessive carefulness in all
matters in which money plays a part, which is one
of the most characteristic features of Napoleon."

The education of the children was the first
point to be determined. In those days anybody
with influence with the clergy or at the Court
could get a free education, and young Napoleon,
having the first, was enabled in this way to get
into the Royal College at Brienne, where boys
were trained for the Navy. He had first, however,
to spend some time at Autun to learn French — so
thoroughly Italian was the man who became after-
wards the most absolute ruler of Frenchmen the
world has seen. In three months at Autun Na-
poleon had "learned sufficient French to enable
him to converse easily and to write small essays
and translations." At Brienne there were many
things to make him unhappy : his foreign birth,
his foreign accent, doubtless his foreign mistakes;
but, above all things, his poverty. Even at school
the inequalities of life make themselves bitterly
felt; and Napoleon, with all his pride, love of
command, and sensitiveness to slights, must have
suffered more than most boys.

"At Brienne," he writes afterwards himself,
" I was the poorest of all my schoolfellows. They
always had money in their pockets, I never. I

282 Napoleon.

was proud, and was most careful that nobody
should perceive this. ... I could neither laugh
nor amuse myself like the others." Bonaparte
the schoolboy was out of touch with his comrades,
and he was not popular.

It will be seen from this passage that Napoleon
was made early acquainted with those traits of
human nature which gave him his permanently
and instinctively low opinion of it, and which
helped to make him regard life as simply a per-
sonal struggle, where you destroy or are destroyed.
Napoleon was five years and a half in this school;
and, curiously enough, though he must really have
been unhappy, he saw it afterwards through the
gauze of retrospect as being very different. One
day, when he was First Consul, and was walking
with Bourrienne — the one schoolfellow whom he
loved in Brienne — in the gardens of Malmaison,
the residence of his office, he heard the chiming of
bells, which always had a remarkable effect upon
him ; he stopped, listened delightedly, and said in
a broken voice: "That reminds me of my first
years at Brienne ; I was happy then." M. Levy is
able to prove that the tenderness of these recol-
lections showed itself in another way also. Na-
poleon befriended nearly everybody who was ever
connected with the school unless they had treated
him badly. Napoleon was one of the worst writers
of his time. His script was undecipherable, even
to himself ; sometimes he found it hard to write

Josephine. 283

his own name ; but old Dupre, who was his
writing-master, came to him once at St. Cloud
and reminded the Emperor — as Napoleon then
was — that "for fifteen months he had had the
pleasure of giving him lessons in writing at
Brienne." Napoleon could not help exclaiming
to the poor man, who was quite aghast : " And a
fine sort of pupil you had ! I congratulate you."

After a few kindly words he dismissed Dupre,
who received a few days later a notification of a
pension of one thousand two hundred francs (forty-
eight pounds).

ii.

IN THE ARTILLERY.

NAPOLEON was unable to get a place in the Navy,
for his influence was not sufficiently great ; so he
besought his family to try and get him into the
artillery or engineers. He was sent to the Military
School in Paris, and arrived there in 1784 — that
starting-point of the great events that led the King
to the scaffold and himself to an Imperial throne.
The descriptions of the period show that he is like
most other new-comers to a great city.

He gaped at everything he saw, and stared
about him. His appearance was that of a man
whom any scoundrel would try to rob after seeing
him.

But even at that age — he was then fifteen — he
had the instincts of order and activity. There is

284 Napoleon.

extant a letter written at that period, in which he
very cleverly criticises the luxury and the laxity
of the discipline which existed in the Military
School. He found that the pupils had a large
staff of servants, kept an expensive stud of horses
and a number of grooms ; and to his realistic and
practical mind all this was abomination.

"Would it not be better/' he exclaimed, "of
course without interrupting their studies, to compel
them to buy enough for their own wants, that is
to say, without compelling them to do their own
cooking, to let them eat soldiers' bread, or some-
thing similar, to accustom them to beat and brush
their own clothes, and to clean their own boots
and shoes ? "

In thus writing young Napoleon was describing
the things he had to do himself, then and after-
wards, for a long time. It was these hardships of
his childhood that helped to make him and to, at
the same time, mar his nature.

"All these cares spoiled my early years," he
himself said in 1811. " They influenced my temper
and made me grave before my time."

Unlike some of the boys around him, Napoleon
refused to run into debt. A friend of his family,
seeing him in low spirits, offered to lend him
money so as to be able to make a better show.

Napoleon grew very red and refused, saying :
" My mother has already too many expenses, and
I have no business to increase them by extrava-

Josephine. 285

gances which are simply imposed upon me by the
stupid folly of my comrades."

At sixteen he passed his examination without
any particular distinction. He was forty-second
out of fifty-eight pupils who passed. His German
master's comment upon him at the time was that
" the pupil Bonaparte was nothing but a fool."

On September i, 1785, he was named Second
Lieutenant in the Bombardiers garrisoned at
Valence. His new uniform was in proportion to
the slenderness of his purpose.

His boots were so inordinately large that his
legs, which were very slender, disappeared in them
completely. Proud of his new outfit, he went off
to seek his friends, the Permons. On seeing him
the two children, Cecilia and Laura (the latter
was afterwards Duchesse d'Abrantes), could not
restrain their laughter, and to his face nick-
named him " Puss in Boots." He did not mind, it
appears, for, according to one of these little wits,
the lieutenant took them a few days later a toy
carriage containing a puss in boots, and Perrault's
fairy story.

in.

EARLY POVERTY.

AT Valence — part of the journey to which Na-
poleon had to perform on foot from having spent
his money — he had to live a very modest life. It
is said that he was " a great talker, embarking, on

286 Napoleon.

the smallest provocation, into interminable argu-
ments ; " that he developed fc those powers of
pleasing which he possessed in a remarkable de-
gree ; " and applied himself, above all, " to pleasing
the fair sex, who received him with acclamation."
I doubt the correctness of this latter statement.
Throughout his entire life we have seen Napoleon
was gauche and constrained and dumb before
women ; his flirtation was of the barrack-room
grossness, directness, and simplicity — horseplay
rather than play of wit.

He obtained leave of absence after the easy
fashion of those times, and visited his home in
Corsica. This visit must have left sad impressions,
for we can trace from that period the disappearance
of even the slight gaiety which was to be found in
his life at Valence. When he went into garrison
at Auxonne — his new station — he began that
ferocious system of work which he continued for
so many years afterwards. He never went out
except to a frugal dinner, and then he had to be
summoned, so absorbed was he in his studies.
Immediately dinner was over he went back to his
room. He lived most humbly. Milk was his
chief food. He himself, writing to his mother, said :

' ' I have no resources here but work ; I only
dress myself once a week ; I sleep but very little
since my illness ; it is incredible. I go to bed at
ten o'clock, and get up at four in the morning. I
only eat one meal a day — at three o'clock."

Josephine. 287

But he broke down under the work, and had
once again to seek refuge in his Corsican home.
He returned to Auxonne after a longer vacation
than would have been possible with any but the
ill-disciplined troops of France. And now comes
a period of Napoleon's life which must always
stand out in his history, and cannot permit any
impartial person to regard him as a wholly selfish
man. He brought back with him his brother
Louis, and for some time supported this brother
and himself on his wretched pay. That pay
amounted to three pounds fifteen shillings a
month :

" The two brothers, therefore, had to lodge,
clothe, and feed themselves upon three francs five
centimes (two shillings and sixpence) a day; and,
moreover, Louis's education, which Napoleon had
undertaken, had to be provided for."

Even on these restricted means Napoleon was
able to live without getting into debt, but he had
to do it at the sacrifice of every comfort. It is
recorded that he cooked their broth with his own
hands, and broth formed the chief meal of the
day. Napoleon never forgot the privations of
this time, nor the lessons it taught. Louis was
afterwards — as we know — King of Holland, but,
like every other relative of Napoleon, made but
a poor requital to his illustrious relative. In rage
at one of these acts of Louis, Napoleon cried out :

" That Louis whom I educated out of my pay

288 Napoleon.

as a sub-lieutenant, God knows at the price of
what privations ! Do you know how I managed
it ? It was by never setting foot in society or in a
cafe; by eating dry bread, and by brushing my
clothes myself, so that they should last longer."

An Imperial official once complained to him
that he could not live on a salary of forty pounds
a month. Said Napoleon :

st I know all about it, sir. . . . When I had
the honour to be a sub-lieutenant I breakfasted off
dry bread, but I bolted my door on my poverty.
In public I did not disgrace my comrades."

One proof of the scrupulousness of his
examination of his expenses is to be seen in a
tailor's bill, still extant, on which he had ob-
tained a reduction of twopence.

IV.
A YOUTHFUL CYNIC.

THE period between Napoleon's earliest military
days and his appearance at Toulon belongs to
Corsica rather than to France. He spent nearly
an entire year on furlough there. He was
reprimanded, and at one time seemed likely
permanently to lose his position in the regular
army. A biographer who does not love him
declares that he was guilty during this period
of crimes of insubordination and want of dis-
cipline enough to have shot him a hundred

Josephine. 289

times over in ordinary times. It is certain that
he had to go to Paris to justify himself. Here,
again, he had to face the privations and humi-
liations of extreme poverty. He owed fifteen
francs to his wine merchant, and he had to pawn
his watch. Bourrienne, his old college chum-
afterwards his secretary — thus describes Napoleon
at this period.

" Our friendship of childhood and college days,"
says Bourrienne, " was as fresh as ever. I was not
very happy ; adversity weighed heavily upon him,
and he often wanted money. We passed our time
like two young men with nothing to do, and with
but little money — he had even less than I. Every
day gave birth to some new plans; we were
always on the look-out for some useful speculation.
At one time he wanted to hire with me several
houses then being built in the Rue Montholon,
intending to make money by sub-letting them."

The two comrades often dined together, Bour-
rienne usually paying for the dinner — at least so
Bourrienne says, though, as he became infamous
for avarice and peculation, the statement must be
taken with reserve. It is certain that sometimes
poor Napoleon had to dine at a restaurant where
a dish cost but a modest threepence.

While the future ruler of France was thus in the
depths, France herself was marching through the
terrific events that ended in the overthrow of the
monarchy. Napoleon was never a democrat, but

u

290 Napoleon.

what little traces of democracy there might have
been in him were destroyed by what he then
saw. It is known that he saw the march on the
Tuileries on June 2Oth. When he saw the ragged
and fierce crowd going in the direction of the
Palace, " Let us follow these scoundrels," was his
comment. And when the poor King put on the
red cap he was equally disgusted. " Why did they
allow these brutes to come in ? They ought to
have shot down fifty or sixty of them with cannon,
and the rest would have run."

This youthful cynic has already weighed and
found wanting the men who are at the head of
affairs. " You know those who are at the head,"
he writes to his brother Joseph, " are the poorest
of men. The people are equally contemptible
when one comes in contact with them. They are
hardly worth all the trouble men take to earn
their favour." " You know the history of Ajaccio,"
he continues ; " that of Paris is exactly the same,
only that there, perhaps, men are more petted,
more spiteful, more censorious." And finally here
is his judgment of the French people as a whole —
a judgment given, it will be observed, with the
detachment and with the calm contempt of a
foreigner : " The French people is an old people,
without prejudices, without bonds. Every one
seeks his own interest, and wishes to rise by
means of lying and calumny ; men intrigue more
contemptibly than ever." And finally, from this

Josephine. 291

period, here is an extract worth giving — it is
Napoleon's comment on a proclamation to the
Corsicans which had been written by his brother
Lucien :

" I have read your proclamation ; it is worth
nothing. It contains too many words and too
few ideas. You run after pathos ; that is not the
way to speak to nations."

Here already we see the final philosophy of
Napoleon. His view of human nature is low;
self-interest is the one guiding motive — unchecked,
uncrossed, unmixed by other and higher im-
pulses; the people, when they attack constituted
authorities, are rabble to be shot down, and the
one art of government is to rule men through
their base passions. After all, the sternest critic
of Napoleon is himself; the portrait he draws
with his own hand, is very like that of M. Taine.
M. Levy — if he wanted to make his hero a saint —
should have omitted his hero's own letters.

v.

FLIGHT FROM CORSICA.

NAPOLEON was restored to his rank, and then he
rushed back home again — still filled by that strong
sense of family obligation which may be dis-
tinctively Corsican — as it is distinctively Irish —
and making sacrifices at this period, as throughout
his life, for his relatives, which, as I have said

u 2

292 Napoleon.

before, do not permit us to regard him as wholly
selfish. In Corsica he came into collision with Paoli
— for Napoleon wished Corsica to remain French —
and Paoli retorted by giving orders for the arrest
and expulsion of the Bonaparte family; and with
their property pillaged and burned behind them,
the large and poverty-stricken family fled from their
native island to Marseilles. In Marseilles Napo-
leon's pay was the chief support of the family;
this was supplemented by the public relief given to
distressed patriots who had suffered for the cause.

I pass rapidly over the episode at Toulon—-
which first gave Napoleon prominence — with the
observation that his action was not so highly
regarded at the time as at a subsequent date.
Bonaparte's name is scarcely mentioned in the
bulletins, but he succeeded, in those days of
improvised soldiers and quick promotions, in being
made a General of Brigade.

Then there is another interval, during a portion
of which he is imprisoned, and in some danger,
as everybody was in the days of the Terror ; and
finally he is called to Paris in order to take part
in the Vendean war. He is asked, however, to
descend from the artillery to the infantry; he
declines, and for some months he is in Paris —
without employment, without money, without
much hope. All kinds of projects hovered before
his mind. There was an idea of his being sent to
Turkey to put the troops of the Grand Sultan in

Josephine. 293

order; he tried to make money as an exporter of
books; he got his dinner either at the expense
of his friends in arms, or at the house of some
Corsicans; he was wretched bodily and mentally;
and his wretchedness appeared in his exterior and
in his manners.

" He was to be met wandering about the streets
of Paris in an awkward and ungainly manner,
with a shabby round hat thrust down over his eyes
and with his curls (known at that time as oreilles
de chieri] badly powdered, badly combed, and
falling over the collar of the iron-gray coat which
has since become so celebrated ; his hands, long,
thin, and black, without gloves, because, he said,
they were an unnecessary expense ; wearing ill-
made and ill-cleaned boots." "But his glance
and his smile were always admirable, and helped
to enliven an appearance always sickly, resulting
partly from the yellowness of his complexion,
which deepened the shadows projected by his
gaunt, angular, and pointed features."

And mentally he was in the same condition as
externally. Bourrienne and his wife meet him in
the Palais Royal ; together they go to the theatre.
" The audience was convulsed with laughter ;
Bonaparte — and I was much struck by it —
preserved an icy silence."

" Another time he disappeared from us without
saying a word, and when we thought he must
have left the theatre, we espied him seated in a

294 Napoleon.

box on the second or third tier, all alone, looking:
as though he wished to sulk."

The fact, of course, is that Napoleon was
consumed by all that volcanic activity which was
to burst forth very soon in such lava tide; and
neither then nor at any other time has he the
power of idling gracefully. Either he is in fierce
activity or he mopes and despairs.

VI.
A FIRST CHANCE.

AND then all these periods of gloomy and despondent
expectation are put an end to, after the anarchic
and unaccountable manner of human affairs, by a
slight chance acquaintance. M. de Pontecoulant,
when he was appointed a member of the War
Committee of the Committee of Public Safety,
found things in dreadful disorder, and did not
know where to turn, and a chance conversation
with M. Boissy d'Anglas elicited this remark :

" I met yesterday a general on half-pay. He
has come back from the Campaign of Italy, and
seemed to know all about it. He might give you
some good advice."

" Send him to me," said M. Pontecoulant ; and
the next day there came to the Minister on the
sixth floor— where he had his office — " the leanest
and most miserable-looking creature he had ever
seen in his life " — a young man, with a wan and

Josephine. 295

livid complexion, bowed shoulders and sickly
appearance. Bonaparte was a name so strange
and so unknown that the War Minister could not
remember it ; but when the young man spoke, he
recognised the acquaintance of Boissy d'Anglas.
Bonaparte was told to draw up a memorandum
setting forth the views he had expressed verbally ;
but he went out, and thinking this a polite dis-
missal, sent no memorandum. But he was induced
to present his ideas, and got work in the War Office
as a sort of secretary to the Minister. But even
this position he did not long retain. He asked
for the command of a brigade, a demand which
at five-and-twenty struck the superior powers as
audacious; and when Pontecoulant retired from
office, Napoleon was again without employment.

And finally he had to seek promotion through
the lady who, in even virtuous Republican days,
played the part of the Pompadour or the Du
Barry with the monarchs — Madame Tallien, the
mistress of Barras. The reader has heard so
much of this episode already that I need not
recapitulate it.

There I leave M. Levy for the moment, and
pass to another eulogist of Napoleon, who is even
more lifelike in his description of this period in
his hero's life.

The work of M. Frederic Masson deals entirely
with one side of Napoleon's life and character —
.his relations, namely, to women. The book has

296 Napoleon.

an outspokenness that may prove a little, trying
even to an age that has grown so much less
squeamish than it used to be. I should say at
once that M. Masson is a devoted and almost
blind worshipper of the central figure of his book ;
and that if one were to believe the picture which
he presents — I am sure in perfect good faith — one
would be obliged to regard Napoleon as one of
the gentlest, sweetest, and most amiable men.
His faults would be an excess — instead of a defect
— of sensibility. Of that other side of Napoleon —
which we know from many pages — in his relations
to women, M. Masson gives us not even a trace.

Let us take M. Masson's very interesting and
very industriously compiled volume as we find it ;
if we cannot accept his conclusions or his portrait,
at least let us be grateful to the superabundance
of material for forming our own conclusions and
our own image which his marvellous industry has
placed at our disposal.

In spite of all I have already written about
Josephine, I make no apology for quoting largely
from M. Masson's description of her.

There is an everlasting fascination about the
story of her life with that strange and marvellous
creature whom she married. Even her defects of
character lend an additional interest to the sub-
ject; a woman quiet, decorous, certain, stable,
would have been a much worthier person, and,
perchance, would have made Napoleon much

Josephine. 297

more tranquil in his mind ; but neither on him nor
on us could she have exercised the same continual
fascination as this wayward, fickle, frail Creole,
that still smiles out upon us with her empty and
kindly look from the grave on which the grass
has been growing for little short of a century !

It is one of the many proofs of the fascination
which the story exercises on the French mind that
every detail of her life, of her courtship and her
•union with Napoleon, is known and recorded with
such extraordinary care. Take this volume which
lies before me. I declare that I read the account
M. Frederic Masson gives of the first interview
between Napoleon and Josephine de Beauharnais,
as though it were something that had occurred but
yesterday j and as though I were standing and
looking on at the whole scene between the two, at
their half-stammered words, their exchange of
half-timid, half-searching glances, at the very
furniture in the rooms ; and this love scene took
place a hundred years ago ! The passages in the
book which deal with the episode are a marvellous
instance of the power which a good writer, with
his facts and details ample and well arranged, can
exercise in realising for himself and for you a
long-forgotten and long- dead scene.

298 Napoleon.

VII.
HE.

THERE are various and conflicting accounts of the
events which led to Napoleon's first acquaintance
with Josephine. The story usually told is that a
short time after he had put down the attack on
the Convention, Napoleon was visited by a young
man who begged to be excused from obeying a
decree which the victorious General had just pub-
lished— the decree ordering the disarmament of
the civil population. The youth remarks that the
sword which he desires to preserve had belonged
to his father, and as he mentions the father's
name Napoleon realises how different is his posi-
tion from that of a few months ago, when he was
pawning his sword and half starving, or picking
up meals by taking "pot-luck" at the houses of
old friends, not much richer than himself. For
the youth was the son of Viscount Beauharnais,
and Viscount Beauharnais was a nobleman of
ancient descent; had even been, like Mirabeau and
other fathers of the Revolution, once President of
the great Constituent Assembly which had made
the Revolution ; had been Commander-in-Chief of
one of the armies of the Republic; and, finally,
after the manner of such highly-distinguished
aristocrats in those days, had been guillotined.
Napoleon is interested and flattered by the request
of the lad, grants it quite cordially, and a few

Josephine. 299

days afterwards a lady comes to offer him her
thanks — it is Josephine de Beauharnais, the mother
of the boy.

For the first time this rustic of twenty-six
years, who knows only the revolutionary armies,
to whom no woman has ever paid any particular
attention, sees before him one of those beautiful,
elegant, and attractive women whom hitherto he
has only seen from the distance of the pit of a
theatre, and he finds himself in the position which
most flatters his pride — that of offering protec-
tion ; and with this role, which he plays for the
first time, he is delighted beyond all words.

VIII.
SHE.

JOSEPHINE, on the other hand, was at this moment
in desperate case. She had narrowly escaped
guillotining, as everybody knows, by the overthrow
of Robespierre; released from prison she found
herself a widow of more than thirty years, with two
children, and with scarcely anything left from the
ruin of her fortune. A Creole, unable at any
period of her life to take any account of money,
extravagant, fond of elegance, dress and pleasure,
there is nothing for her but to beg for money
from her relatives in far Martinique ; to borrow
some from those nearer home; to borrow from
others who are not friends; and above all, to

3OO Napoleon.

make debts — in confidence in the future which in
those strange days offered all kinds of possibilities
to pretty and elegant women. All the large
fortune of her husband in land had been con-
fiscated when he was executed ; her own fortune
had existed rather on paper than in solid coin of
the realm; her father was dead, her mother was
very poor; and the English, in any case, had
blockaded the island and stood between her and
remittances. Even the furniture of her house had
been pledged; in short, poor Josephine at this
moment was at the very end of her tether. This
was her position when the following scene took
place. I trust the vividness of the description
will make as profound an impression on others as
it does on me.

IX.

BONAPARTE KNOCKS.

"JUST then, to return the visit he had received
from the Viscountess de Beauharnais, General
Bonaparte rings at the entrance gate of the
mansion in the Rue Chantereine. He does not
know that the house belongs to Citizeness Talma,
who, while she was Demoiselle Julie, got it from
a man whose mistress she was. He does not see
that the house, with one hundred metres of
grounds, situated in a remote quarter, just at the
extremity of Paris, a couple of steps from the Rue
Saint-Lazaire, surrounded even still by gardens,

Josephine. 301

is hardly worth fifty thousand francs — the price
paid in 1781, and the price which will be again
paid in 1796.

"The door being opened by the concierge, for
there is a concierge, the General goes through a sort
of long passage; at one side he sees the stable with
two black horses, going on seven years old, and
a red cow; on the other, the coach-house, in
which there is but one shattered vehicle, is closed.
The passage leads into a garden. In the centre
stands the living room ; a ground floor with four
very high windows, and surrounded by a low attic.
The kitchen is under-ground. Bonaparte goes
up the four stone steps which turn to a sort of
simple balustraded terrace, and penetrates into
an antechamber sparsely furnished with a copper
fountain and low cupboard of oak, and a deal
press."

x.

THE ROOM.

"THE obliging Gonthier introduces him into a
little apartment, a dining-room, where, near the
round mahogany table, he could sit down on one of
the four black horse-hair chairs, unless he prefers
to look at some engravings on the wall, framed in
black and gold. Not much luxury, but here and
there tables and consoles of mahogany and rose-
wood with marble supports and gilt ornamenta-
tion, give tokens of former elegance, and in the

3O2 Napoleon.

two large glass presses built into the wall, a tea
urn, vessels, all the accessories of the table in
English electro-plate which does duty for silver-
plate. As for plate, in the true sense of the word,
there are in the house only fourteen spoons and
five forks, one soup spoon, six dessert spoons, and
eleven little coffee spoons.

" But he does not know that"

XI.

ENTER JOSEPHINE.

•" JOSEPHINE, decked out by her lady's-maid,
Citizeness Louise Compoint, leaves her room and
hurries to the dining-room to greet this visitor
who is to lead to fortune ! She can hardly receive
him anywhere else, for the ground floor contains,
besides this dining-room, only a little drawing-
room which she has turned into a dressing-room,
and her own bedroom. This bedroom is pretty
but simple, with its upholstery of blue chintz, with
red and yellow tufts, its sofa, some tasteful articles
of furniture in mahogany and rosewood ; its only
artistic object is a little marble bust of Socrates,
standing near a harp, by Renaud. As for the
dressing-room, except a grand piano by Bernard,
there is nothing in it but mirrors ; a mirror on the
large dressing-table, a mirror on the mahogany chest
of drawers, on the night table, and on the mantel-
piece a mirror composed of two little glasses.

Josephine. 303

" What ! is this all the furniture of this elegant
lady ? Yes ; and she eats off earthenware plates,
except on great occasions for which she has a
dozen of blue and white china ones; the table-
linen comprises eight table-cloths, all so worn that
in the inventory, serviettes and table-cloths are
valued at four pounds. But Bonaparte does not
notice all this; he does not know that this
uncommon and elegant woman who is before him,
whose infinite grace disturbs his brain, whose
recherche toilette is a feast to his eyes, has only
in her wardrobe four dozen chemises partly worn
out, two dozen handkerchiefs, six petticoats, six
nightdresses, eighteen fichus, twelve pairs of
stockings of different colours. In addition she
has for outward wearing, six muslin shawls, two
taffeta robes (one brown, the other violet), three
fine, coloured, embroidered muslin dresses, three
plain muslins, two book-muslin dresses, three
Jouy linen dresses, and one of white embroidered
lawn. This underclothing so really poor, and
these outward coverings so relatively numerous,
though the stuffs are shabby and cheap, show the
whole disposition of Josephine— it is Josephine all
over to have sixteen dresses and six petticoats."

XII.
THE FASCINATION BEGINS.

" BUT what matter ? Bonaparte only sees the dress,
or rather he only sees the woman, the soft chestnut

304 Napoleon.

hair, slightly made up, dyed, it is true — but it is then
the time of white powdered wigs — a skin brown
enough, already lined from care, but smoothed,
whitened, pinked by cosmetics; teeth, already
bad, but no one ever sees them, for the small
mouth is always ready to melt into a slight, sweet
smile, which agreed with the infinite mildness of
her long-lashed eyes, with the tender expression
of her features, with a tone of voice so touching
that later on servants would stop in the passages
to hear it. And with that a mobile, delicate nose,
with ever-quivering nostrils, a nose a little raised
at the end, engaging and roguish, which provoked
desire.

" Nevertheless the head is scarcely to be men-
tioned in comparison with this body, so free, so
stately, not yet spoiled by stoutness, and which
ends in little, straight, arched feet — feet so plump
and soft as to invite a kiss. On the body no
restraint, no corsets, not even a neck-band to
support the throat, which is, however, short and
expressionless. But her general attractiveness
goes beyond defining. This woman has a grace
which belongs only to herself : ' She even goes to
bed gracefully/ This grace results from such a
just proportion of build that one forgets she is of
mediocre stature, so easy and elegant are all her
movements. A long and careful study of her
body, a coquetry which has refined all her gestures,,
that loses no advantage, and is constantly on the

Josephine. 305

defensive, leaves nothing to chance ; this unde-
finable nonchalance which makes the Creole
woman the essence of womanhood ; this sensu-
ality which, like a light perfume, floats around
these languid attitudes of the supple and easy
limbs, was it not enough to turn the brain of
everybody, and most of all of him who was newer
and less experienced than any other ? The woman
seduces him from the first moment, while at the
same time the lady dazzles him by, as he says
himself, ' that calm and noble dignity of the old
French society/ "

XIII.
IN THE TOILS.

" SHE feels that he is ensnared, that he belongs to
her, and when he comes back on the next day, the
day after, and then every day, when he sees about
Madame de Beauharnais men who belonged to the
ancient Court, who are great lords in comparison
with him, 'petit noble' (the word is his own), a
Segur, a Montesquieu, a Caulaincourt, who treat
her as a friend, an equal, somewhat as a comrade,
he does not notice the dark side; he does not
realise that these men, who will always have for
him a certain prestige, come there as bachelors,
and do not bring their wives. After the Jacobin
surroundings in which he lived, and which in
Vaucluse, Toulon, Nice, and Pa s had been an
advantage to him, he experienced a n infinite satis-

x

306 Napoleon.

faction in finding himself in such company. All
the appearances (and nothing here was more than
appearance, the luxury of the lady as well as her
nobility, her society, and the place she occupied in
the world), all these appearances he accepted for
realities, and saw them so, his senses aiding.

"Fifteen days after the first visit a liaison com-
menced. In writing to each other they still talk only
friendship, but in the confusion of that time, says a
witness, shades, transitions, were but little observed.
" ' They loved one another passionately.' As
to him, it is quite easy to believe it; as to her,
why should we not believe that she was then
sincere? This Bonaparte was new ground, a
savage to tame, the lion of the day to show about
in her chains. For the woman, already beginning
to age, this ardour of passion, these kisses, as
under the Equator, prove to her that she is still
beautiful, and that she will always please. Good
enough as a lover, but what of a husband ? He
makes an offer of his hand — he supplicates her to
marry him. After all, what has she to lose ? She
is at the last extremity, and it is the throwing of
a card that she risks. He is young, ambitious, he
is Commander-in-Chief of the Interior; during
the Directoire it is remembered that he furnished
plans for the last Italian campaign, and Carnot is
going to give him the chief command in the
approaching campaign. It means, perhaps, sal-
vation. Then what does she commit herself to I

Josephine. 307

A marriage ? But divorce is a remedy ready to
hand, for there is no question of priest or religious
ceremony. What is it in reality? A contract
which will last as long as it pleases the parties to
observe the conditions, but which is of no value
either in the conscience of the wife or in that of
her old world ; which will bring something big if
well played, for this young man may mount high ;
which will bring, in any case, a pension if he is
killed."

XIV.
VENIAL MENDACITIES.

" NEVERTHELESS, she has precautions to take ;.
first of all, her age to dissemble, for she does not
want to avow, either to this youth of twenty-six
or to any one else, that she is more than thirty-two
years old. So Calmelot, her confidential man, at
present tutor of her children, goes, accompanied
by a friend named Lesourd, to a notary's : " They
certify that they know Marie-Joseph Tascher,
widow of the citizen Beauharnais, intimately, know
that she is a native of the Island of Martinique,
and that at the present moment it is impossible
for her to procure a certificate of birth on account
of the island being occupied by the English/*
That is all ; no other declaration, no date. Armed
with this, Josephine can declare to the Civil officer
that she was born on June 23, 1767, whilst in
reality she was born on June 23, 1763. People

x 2

308 Napoleon.

do not examine her more closely. As to fortune,
she intends there shall also be illusion. Here, one
would believe, there must be some difficulty, but
Bonaparte accepts all that she does, and then in
private, in the presence only of Lemarrois, aide-
de-camp of the General, the strangest contract of
marriage that notary ever received, is prepared ;
no community of goods under any form nor in
any manner whatsoever; absolute separation of
means ; all authority given in advance by the
future husband to the future wife; guardianship
of the children by the first marriage exclusively
to be held by the mother; a jointure of fifteen
hundred pounds if she becomes a widow, and in
the latter case also the right to get back all that
she could justly claim as belonging to her.

" Of documents relating to personal property
not a single one. All that the future wife possesses
is a claim to the property which was common to
herself and the late M. Beauharnais. He did not
make an inventory, and until the inventory was
made she could not decide whether to accept or
renounce. The inventory was made two years
later, and she renounced, but these two years had
brought something better. Bonaparte made no
secret of the smallness of his fortune. ' On his
side the future husband declared he possessed no
real estate nor personal property other than his
wardrobe and his military equipage, the whole
valued by him at , and then he signed the

Josephine. 309

nominal value.' Just as the notary of Madame
de Beauharnais had said, his ' cape and sword '
were his fortune. But the General found the
declaration superfluous, and in the contract he
purely and simply had the paragraph scratched
out.

"The contract is dated 18 Ventose, An IV.
(March 8, 1796). The next day the marriage
took place before the Civil officer, who com-
plaisantly gave to the husband twenty - eight
years instead of twenty-six, and to the wife
twenty-nine instead of thirty-two. This mayor
seems to have a passion for equalising. Barras,
Lemarrois, who is not a major, Tallien and
Calmelot, the inevitable Calmelot, are witnesses.
There is no mention of the consent of the parents ;
they were not consulted.

" Two days after, General Bonaparte goes alone
to join the army in Italy; Madame Bonaparte
remains at the Rue Chantereine."

There is something weird, is there not, in this
revivification of the past, even to the numbering
of the articles of underclothing in poor Josephine's
wardrobe. The details may seem squalid, but
somehow or other they do not so impress me.
There is something in their accumulation that
adds so much to the reality and familiarity of the
picture, and nothing that thus brings us face to
face with the daily life of so portentous a figure
as Napoleon, can ever cease to interest mankind.

3io Napoleon.

xv.

DITHYRAMBIC LOVE.

I GO back to M. Levy's volume for a description
of the epoch which followed.

It is a stage in Napoleon's life which it is very
hard to understand, the existence of which many
people have forgotten, and which is in contrast
with the strange lawlessness, heartlessness, frigidity
of temper which supreme power finally begat in
Napoleon's character. We have extant his corre-
spondence with his wife during his campaign in
Italy ; it is the correspondence of an impassioned
boy with his first love. Its warmth of language,
its hysterical joy, its strange despair, all its quick
alternation of the liveliest and most acute feel-
ings, stand, as it were, outside that stern man we
know, with that impassive face in the midst of the
wholesale carnage of the battle-field. The daring
conspirator who was ready to stake his head in
the fight for a crown — the man whose settled
frown, cold and steady gaze, and imperious de-
meanour affright the bravest general into an awed
silence — this man is to be seen in these letters
falling on his knees, clasping his hands, tearing
his hair, sobbing in the outbursts of jealous and
almost tenderly submissive love. It is certainly
one of the most curious contradictions between
the outer demeanour, the general character, and

Josephine. 311

the inner nature which history presents. Above
all, it confirms the theory of many shrewd ob-
servers of human nature, that it is women after all
who alone understand men, for it is they who
alone see them as they really are.

I will give some specimens of these letters.
It will be seen that I in no way exaggerate their
character.

At Chanceaux, on his way to Italy, he has to
stop to exchange horses ; he takes advantage of
the pause to write a letter.

" Every instant," he writes, " takes me farther
from you, adorable creature, and every instant I
feel less that I can bear being separated from you.
You are perpetually in my thoughts ; I rack my
brains to imagine what you are about. If I think
you are sad, my heart feels broken; if I fancy
you gay, laughing with your friends, I reproach
you for having forgotten our grievous separation
of three days ago.

" If I am asked whether I have slept well, I
feel that, before answering, I ought to receive
news from you as to whether you have had a good
night. Sickness, man's fury, affect me not, ex-
cept by the idea that they may come upon you.
. . . Ah ! be not gay, but rather somewhat melan-
choly, and, above all, may your soul be exempt
from grief as your body from illness."

312 Napoleon.

XVI.

SUSPICION.

UNDERNEATH all these outbursts of passion one
can detect, as M. Levy points out, a vague sense
of apprehension and coming danger. Napoleon
had not failed to see the "tepidity" which his
wife felt towards him, and he knew, perhaps, that
her past had not been altogether without reproach.
In any case, he is tormented all through his cam-
paign ; and in the midst of those mighty victories
which were dazzling the world, amid all the
acclaims of that triumphant army — in the midst,
too, of the dangers which Napoleon madly ran —
his innermost heart is constantly tortured with the
idea that his love is not returned, that his con-
fidence is betrayed. It is impossible not to tarry
with some pleasure at this stage of Napoleon's
career ; it is somewhat like the early, innocent
maidenhood of a woman that has ended disastrously.

Here is what is said of Napoleon by one of his
secretaries of this period :

" General Bonaparte, however taken up he
might be with his position, with the matters en-
trusted to him, and with his future, had yet time
to give himself up to thoughts of another kind.
He was thinking constantly of his wife. He
longed for her, and watched for her coming with
impatience. He often spoke to me of her and his

Josephine. 313

love, with the expansions and the illusions of a
very young man. The continual delays that she
interposed before her departure were torture to
him, and he occasionally gave way to fits of
jealousy, and to a kind of superstition, which was
strong in his nature. One day the glass of Jose-
phine's portrait, which he always wore about him,
broke, and he turned dreadfully pale. ( Marmont,3
he exclaimed, 'either my wife is ill or unfaithful.'"

XVII.
FRIVOLOUS JOSEPHINE.

JOSEPHINE, meantime, is not much touched by
these outbursts. Josephine may or may not have
been the abandoned woman Barras declares, but
her letters about her curious lover — so wan, awk-
ward, abrupt, so devoid of drawing-room graces —
give a curious picture of the conflicting emotions
of her mind. Here is the first paragraph of one of
them :

"You have seen General Bonaparte at my
house. Well, it is he who is good enough to act
as stepfather to the orphans of Alexandre de
Beauharnais, as husband to his widow ! Do you
love him ? you ask me. No. ... I do not. Then
you dislike him ? No ; but my state is one of
tepidity towards him that is displeasing to me."

It is clearly evident from this that when Jose*
phine married, it was not from love. The next

314 Napoleon.

paragraph shows, however, the method by which
Napoleon was able to procure influence over her
mind. It is also a curious and instructive proof
of how early was that perfect self-confidence which
was one of the secrets of his final triumph and
glory. There is also an allusion to Barras which
would seem to lend some confirmation to the un-
favourable view of the alliance on which that
arch-enemy of Bonaparte has insisted :

" Barras assures me that if I marry the General
he will obtain for him the command in Italy.
Yesterday Bonaparte was talking to me about
this favour, which is already causing some of his
brothers-in-arms to grumble, although it has not
yet been granted. ( Do they imagine/ he said,
' that I need protection in order to rise ? They
will only be too glad when I accord them mine.
My sword is by my side, and with that I will do
anything."

And finally comes this delicious passage, which
shows at once the indecision of the woman and
the weapon by which she was finally overcome —
the weapon of Napoleon's thorough confidence in
himself:

" I do not know how it is, but sometimes this
ridiculous assurance gains upon me to such an
extent as to make me believe possible all that
this man suggests to me ; and, with his imagina-
tion, who can tell what he may not attempt ? "

Similarly after her marriage, her comment on

Josephine. 315

these extraordinary letters — more extraordinary
because of the character of the man who wrote
them and of his surroundings — her comment is
one of the most fatuous utterances recorded in
history : " What an odd creature Bonaparte is ! "
she says. " What an odd creature Bonaparte is "
is really delightful in its sublime unconsciousness —
in its naivete, in its tragic forecast of her
subsequent fate. M. LeVy — who is a simple man
himself— describes the phrase as " vulgar and
unseemly." His comment is as simple as the
original phrase. It is not specially vulgar or
specially unseemly ; it is gigantically stupid.

Above all things, Josephine did not wish to
leave her beloved Paris. And life in that delightful
city was now more delightful than ever, for the
victories of her husband, producing mighty street
demonstrations, reflected their glory on her ; she
is cheered as she rides through the triumphant
crowds ; she is at last in a steady and brilliant
social position. She tries all kinds of expedients
to excuse her delay in departing for her husband's
camp, until at last she takes refuge in the splendid
invention that she is enceinte.

At once Napoleon is pacified, and he bursts
out into a profusion of apologies, regrets, almost
grovelling palinodes. As thus :

" My life is a perpetual nightmare. A horrible
presentiment prevents me from breathing. I live
no more. I have lost more than life, more than

316 Napoleon.

happiness, more than rest. . . . Write me ten
pages ; that alone may console me a little. You
are ill, you love me ; I have afflicted you ; you
are enceinte. I have sinned so much against you
that I know not how to palliate my crimes. I
accuse you of remaining in Paris, and you are ill
there. Forgive me, my dearest ; the love with
which you have inspired me has taken away my
reason. I shall never find it again."

And so it goes on, gathering force and fire as
it proceeds ; tumultuous, impassioned, like the
improvisation of the Italian stock from which he
has come. Whatever else Napoleon is, at this
period of his existence he is not cold ; the volcano
emits lava continuously. Here, for instance, is
another passage in the same letter :

" I have always been fortunate ; my fate has
never resisted my will ; and to-day I am struck in
what touches me most closely. Without appetite,
without sleep, indifferent to friends, glory, and
country — you, you alone — the rest of the world
no more exists for me than if it were annihilated.
I care for honour because you care for it, for
victory because it gives you pleasure; otherwise
I should have quitted all to throw myself at your
feet. My darling, mind you tell me that you are
convinced that I love you more than it is possible
to imagine; that you are persuaded that every
moment of my time is consecrated to you; that
never an hour passes without my thinking of you ;

Josephine. 317

that in my eyes all other women are without charm,
beauty, or wit ; that you and you alone, such as I
see you now, can please me and absorb all the
faculties of my soul, that you alone have sounded
all its depths ; . . . that my strength, my arms, my
mind — all is yours ; . . . that my soul is in your
body; and that the day when you change, or
the day on which you cease to live, would be
that of my death ; that nature and the earth are
only beautiful in my eyes because you inhabit
them."

And finally the letter, after pages of this
kind of thing, winds up with this impassioned
outburst :

" A child, adorable as his mother, is about to
see the light in your arms ! Unhappy that I am,
I would be satisfied with one day ! A thousand
kisses on your eyes, your lips ! Adorable woman,
what is your power ? I am ill with your illness ;
fever is burning me ! Do not keep the courier
more than six hours, and let him return straight-
way to bring me the cherished letter from my
sovereign."

XVIII.
THE FIRST QUARRELS.

ALL these outpourings did not make it a bit
easier for Josephine to leave Paris; it was not
until she feared that her little invention about
being enceinte would be betrayed by Junot —

318 Napoleon.

Napoleon's faithful servant — that she consented
to go ; and then, says a contemporary observer,
" Poor woman, she burst into tears, and sobbed as
though she were going to execution." At last
she reaches Milan. " General .Bonaparte," says
Marmont, " was very happy, for then he lived only
for her. This lasted for a long time. Never had
a purer, truer, more exclusive love possession of
the heart of man." But he has to rush from her
arms to continue his fights with the enemy; and
his letters, instead of cooling, grow warmer :

" I turn over and over in my mind your kisses,
your tears, your charming jealousy, and the
charms of the incomparable Josephine light un-
ceasingly in my heart a warm and bright flame.
When shall I be free from all worry, from all
business, and at liberty to pass my time near you,
and nothing to think of but the happiness of
saying and proving it. ... I thought I loved you
a few days ago, but since I have left you I feel
that my love has increased a thousandfold. . . .
I implore you to show me your defects sometimes;
be less beautiful, less gracious, less tender, less
loving especially ; above all, never be jealous,
never cry — your tears distract me, burn my
blood. . . . Come and join me, so that before we
die we may be able to say : ' We were happy so
many days/ "

And the next day he writes in a similar strain :
" I have been to Virgil's village, on the edge

Josephine. 319

of a lake, by moonlight, and not one instant
passed without my thinking of Josephine. I have
lost my snuff-box, and beg you to choose me one —
rather flat, and to have something rather pretty
written upon it, with your hair. A thousand
kisses, as burning as you are cold."

And meantime poor, lazy, tepid Josephine
proves a very poor correspondent. Letter after
letter from Bonaparte begins with some such
phrase as this : " Two days without a letter from
you. Thirty times to-day have I said that to
myself." "I hope that on arriving to-night I
shall receive a letter from you." " I am starting
immediately for Verona. I had hoped for a
letter from you, and am in a state of the utmost
anxiety." "No letter from you. I am really
anxious." "I write to you frequently, my dear
one, and you but little to me. You are haughty
and unkind, as unkind as you are heedless."

And so it goes on in reproach after reproach :

" I have received your letters and have pressed
them to my heart and my lips, and the grief at
my absence, divided from you as I am a hundred
miles, has vanished. But your letters are as cold
as if you were fifty ; they might have been written
after fifteen years of married life."

Here is another :

" I Jove you no longer ; on the contrary, I
detest you. You are a wretch, very clumsy, very
stupid, a Cinderella. You never write to me;

320 Napoleon.

you do not love your husband. You know what
pleasure your letters give him, and you never
write him even six miserable lines."

And still Napoleon goes on protesting the
vehemence of his love :

" I hope soon to be in your arms. I love you
to distraction. All is well. Wurmser has been
defeated at Mantua. Nothing is wanting to your
husband's happiness save the love of Josephine."

And three days after this letter, when he
comes to Milan to join his wife, his love gets a
shock greater than her silence and the coldness
of her letters. The Palazzo where he had expected
to find her is empty, Josephine has gone to
Genoa ; and then Napoleon, unable to control his
grief, disappointment, the wound inflicted on his
love and self-love, pours forth his feelings in two
letters eloquent in their grief. The first is written
immediately after his arrival :

" I reach Milan, I rush to your room ; I have
quitted all to see you, to press you in my arms.
You were not there ; you are travelling about in
search of amusement ; you put distance between
us as soon as I arrive ; you care nothing for your
Napoleon. A caprice made you love him, in-
constancy renders him indifferent to you."

And on the next day there comes another letter
equally agonised in tone :

" To love you only, to render you happy, to do
nothing that can annoy you, that is my destiny,

Josephine. 321

and the object of my life. Be happy, do not
reproach me, care nothing about the fidelity of
a man who lives only through you ; enjoy only
your own pleasures and your own happiness. In
asking for a love equal to mine, I was wrong.
How can I expect lace to weigh as heavily as
gold ? In sacrificing to you all my desires, all
my thoughts, every instant of my life, I simply
yield to the ascendency that your charms, your
character, and your whole heart have obtained
over my unhappy heart. I am unhappy if nature
did not endow me with attractions sufficient to
captivate you, but what I deserve at the hands
of Josephine is at least consideration and esteem,
for I love you madly and solely. . . . Ah ! Josephine,
Josephine I "

Josephine, meantime, was surrounded by young
officers, who adored and flattered and courted her,
and the memoir writers have no hesitation in
declaring that she was unfaithful to Napoleon ;
but this may not be true, for French memoir
writers are not sparing of women's reputations.
At all events, Napoleon banished several ofHcers
from his army who were suspected of paying too
much devotion to his wife ; and from the moment
when, returning to Milan, he found that she had
gone and not awaited him, there is a gradually
increasing coldness in his letters. The romance
was over ; Josephine herself had killed it.

322 Napoleon.

XIX.

HIPPOLYTE CHARLES.

AMONG the officers of the army of Italy, when
Napoleon was Commander-in-Chief, was a young
man named Hippolyte Charles. I suppose there is
nothing more curious — nor inexplicable — in some
respects more saddening, in others more satis-
factory, than the difficulty the greatest men of
history have found in gaining real and faithful
love. George Eliot in one of her early stories
stands up for the man, with poor stumbling gait
and commonplace mind, who wins the love of some
woman far superior to himself ; and asks whether
the straight-limbed young gods have not enough
from life without begrudging to the poor devil,
who is neither fair of form nor brilliant of mind,
the great good the gods have given him of a
perfect woman's devotion. Catherine of Russia
had wondrous charm in addition to her vast gifts
of courage, resolve, clear vision — and yet Catherine,
as her biographer tells us, was as much deceived
by the various men on whom she bestowed so
profusely the riches of her own nature and of her
Empire, as the veriest grisette. And, similarly,
Napoleon — the god of his own time, the god of
so many successive generations of men — Napoleon
never succeeded until it was too late in winning
the devotion of his own wife. And to make the

Josephine. 323

tragedy the more grotesque, a Hippolyte Charles
was his successful rival. Hippolyte Charles, who
had not great external advantages, being small
and thin, very brown of skin, with hair black as
jet, but very careful of his person, and very smart
in his fine Hussar uniform laced with gold, showed
the greatest attention to the wife of his Com-
mander-in-Chief. He was a man of the kind
most dangerous to a woman who is rather bored,
and does not love her husband. Charles was
what is called amusing. He made puns, and
was somewhat affected. The keen interest that
Josephine took in this young Hussar was known
to every one in the Army of Italy, and when
what M. de Se*gur calls " Napoleon's jealous
displeasure " burst forth, no one was surprised to
see Charles, at that time aide-de-camp to General
Leclerc, "banished from the Army of Italy by
order of the Commander-in-Chief."

xx.

IN EGYPT.

WHEN Napoleon went to Egypt he was accom-
panied a portion of the way by Josephine. The
separation between them is said to have been
touching. It is not known whether Josephine
offered to accompany him or not. It is certain,
however, that Napoleon still continued to have
a warm affection for her. In the midst of all his

Y 2

324 Napoleon.

preparations for his great campaigning — in the
midst of the discussions with the scientific men
whom he had brought with him — Napoleon, says
Bourrienne, "passionately devoted to France,
anxious for his own glory, though his heart was
so full, there was still a large place kept for
Josephine, of whom he almost always spoke to
me in our familiar conversation."

But Josephine still was tepid, and was terribly
indiscreet. In the correspondence of Napoleon
with his brothers we see the anxiety gradually
turning into certainty, and despair is transformed
into rage and repulsion. To his brother Joseph
he writes from Cairo : " Look after my wife ; see
her sometimes. I beg Louis to give her good
advice." In the same letter he says : " I send a
handsome shawl to Julia ; she is a good woman,
make her happy." Soon after, however, there
is a very different note in the letters, and in a
letter to Josephine there occurs this phrase — the
epitaph on his lost confidence in his wife's fidelity :
" I have many domestic sorrows, for the veil is
entirely lifted/' The latter part of this phrase
was omitted in the earlier memoirs of Josephine ;
it has since been restored. In this same letter
there is another passage which speaks a sorrow
as profound as even these first words :

"Your affection is very dear to me. Were I
to lose that, and to see you betray me, I should
turn misanthrope; it alone saves me. One is in

Josephine. 325

a sad plight when all one's affections are centred
upon one person. Arrange that I should have
active employment on my return, either near
Paris or in Burgundy. I wish to pass the winter
there, and to shut myself up ; I am tired of human
nature. I want solitude and isolation ; grandeur
wearies me, my affections are dried up."

Prince Eugene — Josephine's son — has in his
Memoirs to confess that his mother's conduct
disturbed Napoleon. He puts down the reports
that reach his stepfather to malice and calumny ;
but, nevertheless, he has to give us a picture of
Napoleon which is not without pathos :

" Although I was very young, I inspired him
with so much confidence that he made me a sharer
in his sorrows, It was generally at night that he
thus unbosomed himself, walking with great strides
up and down his tent. I was the only person to
whom he could talk openly. I sought to soften
his resentment, I comforted him as best I could,
and as much as my age and the respect I felt for
him permitted."

At last there came one of those violent explo-
sions of wrath which were the terror of Napoleon's
surrounding. He addressed Bourrienne in a voice
stifled with rage ; reproaches him that he has not
repeated the reports which Junot had brought
fresh from Paris — Junot might have been better
employed — and then went on :

" Josephine .... and I am six hundred leagues

326 Napoleon.

away .... Josephine to have thus deceived me.
She, she .... woe to them .... I will exter-
minate the whole tribe of fops and puppies. As for
her divorce. Yes .... a public overwhelming
divorce .... I know all."

Poor Bourrienne seeks in vain to stop this
torrent of wrath, and recalls to Napoleon the fact
that whatever might be his domestic misadventures,
he had at least the comfort of the mighty glory
that his Egyptian campaign had gathered around
him. There is something extremely human, some-
thing really that makes Napoleon less of the
scarcely human monster of the Taine portrait,
in the passage which follows :

" My glory ! " exclaimed Napoleon in despair.
" What would I not give if only what Junot has
told me were not true, so dearly do I love that
woman ! "

The origin of all these outbursts was the be-
haviour of Josephine with Hippolyte Charles.
That young gentleman, after his expulsion from
the Army of Italy, had entered into business in
a large provision firm, was prospering, had money
to spend, kept up a fine establishment, and Jose-
phine again listened to him. He paid her visits
at Malmaison, her residence as the General's wife ;
and, finally — it is scarcely credible that a woman
could be so imprudent and expect to retain her
reputation and her husband's love — "ended by
living there altogether as its master."

Josephine. 327

This is what had been reported to Napoleon.
He took his revenge. To this period belongs
that well-known intrigue between Napoleon and
Madame Pauline Faures, which suggests to Taine
one of his most remarkable passages; and from
this time forward Napoleon's confidence in his
wife was gone. When Josephine heard that he
was returning, she determined to forestall her
enemies, and to win back his love by going to
meet him. Possibly she recollected that most un-
happy day when she left Milan, and Napoleon,
rushing, as he thought, to her loving and expect-
ing arms, found nothing but emptiness and absence.
But fortune was against her this time; she went
to meet him by one route, he arrived by another.

So it happened that on October i6th, 1798, at
six in the morning, Napoleon found no one when
he reached his house in the Rue Chantereine, and
his irritation and jealousy were thereby increased.

To make this unexpected solitude in his own
home the more exasperating, Napoleon had passed
through France amid the mad acclamations of the
people — the forerunners of that inexhaustible
popularity which very soon was to enable him to
mount the throne. After all these wild crowds of
almost idolatrous admirers — after all this tumult
— to come home and find this silence, this apparent
neglect! Napoleon was so exasperated that he
refused for some time to even see Josephine, and
took measures for having the divorce proceedings

328 Napoleon.

set in motion; and what must have made the
whole business the more exasperating for Napoleon
was that just at that moment, when this wretched
domestic complication came to disturb and pre-
occupy him, he was on the eve of the events which
were to lead him — if he only had the nerve and
the resource — to the loftiest pinnacle of human
glory; which, with loss of nerve — by one slight
mistake — might end in death on the scaffold.

Under these circumstances, Josephine adopted
a desperate but a wise expedient. She used her
two children as the intermediaries between her
and her husband. The scene which followed is
described by more than one contemporary, but
the best accounts are those of Prince Eugene, who
of course was present, and of Bourrienne, Napo-
leon's secretary. Prince Eugene says that Napoleon
gave his mother a " cold reception." Bourrienne
describes the reception as one of "calculated
severity" and the "coldest indifference." But
when Napoleon saw Josephine, her eyes streaming
with tears, in despair, conducted to his presence
by Hortense and Eugene, he broke down — " he
opened his arms and forgave his wife."

It is hard to say what judgment we should
pronounce on this episode. M. Levy, of course,
has no difficulty in seeing in it a sublime gene-
rosity ; it may have been the cynical indifference
which made Napoleon finally regard Josephine as
merely a pretty woman — not to be cast off because

Josephine. 329

of her prettiness — to be simply used and despised.
There is much more respect to a woman in a
jealousy that will not be appeased than in a
reconciliation which has its roots in the senses
and in contempt.

And now there comes the second epoch in the
lives of Napoleon and Josephine. As married
people go, they got on pretty well together. There
are abundant proofs that Napoleon was in his way
a fairly good family man. He certainly desired to
be so considered himself.

" At home," he said to Roederer, " I am an
affectionate man ; I play with the children, talk
to my wife, read novels to them."

And certainly there are proofs that he was
very fond of children. We have seen already how
intoxicated he was by the prospect of Josephine's
being enceinte. Later on, his delight was keen
when that poor infant was born with so tragic a
destiny — so pitiful an end — the Duke of Reich-
stadt. Here are two very pretty pictures of Napo-
leon with the children of Queen Hortense, daughter
of Josephine, wife of his brother Louis, the father
of the Napoleon whom we knew in our days as
Emperor of the French :

"Uncle Bibiche! Uncle Bibiche!" This ex-
clamation came from a child of scarcely five years
of age, running breathlessly in the park of Saint-
Cloud after a man visible in the distance followed
by a troop of gazelles, to whom he was distributing

33° Napoleon.

pinches of snuff, disputed eagerly. The child was
the eldest son of Hortense, and the distributor of
snuff was Napoleon, who had earned the name of
" Uncle Bibiche " by the pleasure that he took in
setting the boy on the back of one of the gazelles
and walking him about, to the intense joy of the
child, who was carefully held on by his uncle.
The child, it appears, was charming, and, more-
over, possessed a great admiration for his uncle.
When he passed in front of the grenadiers in the
Tuileries gardens, the boy would call out : " Long
live grandpapa, the soldier ! " " It used to be,"
says Mademoiselle Avrillon, "a real holiday for the
Emperor when Queen Hortense came to see her
mother, bringing her two children. Napoleon
would take them in his arms, caress them, often
tease them, and burst into laughter, as if he had
been their own age, when, according to his custom,
he had smeared their faces with cream or jam."

Finally, there were plenty of things to show
that ordinarily he was kind and considerate to
Josephine. Napoleon himself said : " If I found
no pleasures in my home life, I should be too
miserable." " Once the quarrels of the first years
were over," says Thibaudeau, " it was on the whole
a happy household."

" The Emperor," says Mademoiselle Avrillon,
" was, in reality, one of the best husbands I have ever
known. When the Empress was poorly, he passed
near her every hour that he could spare from his

Josephine. 331

work. He always went into her room before
going to bed, and very often, when he woke in the
night, he would send his mameluke for news of
Her Majesty, or else come himself. He was
tenderly attached to her." "How touching was
the peace that reigned in the Imperial household ! "
says Constant. " The Emperor was full of atten-
tions for his wife, and used to amuse himself by
kissing her on the neck and the cheeks, tapping
her face, and calling her his ' great stupid.' She
often read new books to him ; he liked her to read
to him, as she read admirably and much enjoyed
reading aloud. When the Emperor showed an
inclination to go to sleep, the Empress used to
descend a little staircase and rejoin the company
in the drawing-room just as she had left them."

XXI.

HOPELESS JOSEPHINE.

Two or three more details will help us to form a
correct view of the relations between Napoleon
and Josephine. One of the husband's peculiarities
was the interest he took even in the small details
of his wife's toilet. He used sometimes to assist
at her preparations; "and," writes one of the
intimates of the household, " it was strange to us
to see a man whose head was so full of great
things going into all sorts of details, and pointing
-out the gowns or the jewels he wished her to wear

33 2 Napoleon.

on such and such occasion. He one day spilled
some ink over one of the Empress's gowns be-
cause he did not like it, and to force her to put on
another."

" On the morning of the consecration," says
the Duchesse d'Abrantes, "the Emperor himself
tried on the Empress the crown she was to wear.
During the ceremony he was most attentive,
arranged this little crown, which surmounted a
coronet of diamonds, altered it, replaced it, and
moved it again."

But, nevertheless, there were occasional quarrels
between the two, mainly owing to the incurable
extravagance of Josephine. Napoleon inherited
from his mother, and from his days of struggle,
a most careful regard for the value of money. Of
that I shall give some curious stories by-and-by.
Poor Josephine, on the other hand, never was
capable of counting the cost of anything, and she
was so fond of spending money that she frequently
bought things quite useless to her for the mere
sake of buying. The result was that she was
always being cheated, always in debt, always in
terror and tears when the time came round to
meet her bills and she had to appeal to her stern
taskmaster for money. Says Sismondi : —

" Josephine .... was always surrounded by
people who robbed her ; she denied herself no
whim, never reckoned the cost, and allowed pro-
digious debts to accumulate. It happened on one

Josephine. 333

occasion, when the settlement of the budget was
approaching, that Napoleon saw the eyes of Jose-
phine and of Madame de la Rochefoucauld (prin-
cipal lady-in-waiting) very red. He said to Duroc :
1 These women have been crying ; try to find out
what it is about.3 Duroc discovered that there
was a deficit of six hundred thousand francs
(twenty- four thousand pounds). Napoleon, in-
credulous, immediately wrote an order for one
million francs (forty thousand pounds), and ex-
claimed : ' All this for miserable trifles ! Simply
stolen by a lot of scoundrels ! I must send away
so-and-so, and forbid certain shopkeepers to pre-
sent themselves at the Palace.3 "

XXII.

NAPOLEON'S INFIDELITIES.

POOR Josephine had further and graver causes of
complaint. For the infidelities, the coldness, the
neglect with which she afflicted Napoleon when he
was a raw young soldier, and for the first time
knew the graces and charms of a pretty woman,
she had to pay the penalty of years of misery,
helpless jealousy, sometimes even violence. By
a process which is not uncommon in married life,
and especially among those whose fortunes have
undergone considerable modification, the woman's
love grew as the man's waned. Napoleon some-
times was decent enough to endeavour to conceal

334 Napoleon.

his infidelities, at others he seems to have been
cynically indifferent to the feelings of his wife ;
and on one occasion he treated her as only a brute
could do. Sometimes, as Taine has told us, he
went the length of telling her the details of his
amours, replying to her tears and her reproaches
with, " I have a right to answer all your objections
with an eternal * Moi.' "

When in 1806-7 Napoleon was m Poland, there
was a reversal of the parts which the husband and
wife played towards each other in the other epoch
of their married life, when Josephine was in Paris
and Napoleon was in Italy. The reader will
remember the letters of impassioned ardour in
which the young soldier addressed in those days
the tepid wife — how he pressed her to follow him,
to be always near him. When Napoleon went to
Poland there is a repetition of the same thing ; but
it is Josephine that longs to go to Napoleon, it is
Napoleon that likes their separation. When Jose-
phine did not get the summons she so eagerly
longed for, poor Josephine — she was only a super-
stitious, weak Creole creature after all — would try
to master her feverish impatience and her appre-
hensions in a characteristic way :

" Every evening," says the Duchesse d'Abrantes,,
" she used to consult the cards in order to learn
whether she would receive the desired orders or
not."

Josephine sends letter after letter, resorts to

Josephine. 335

every species of tender coquetry. Much of all this
is to be found in the following little extract from
one of Napoleon's letters :

"An officer brings me a carpet from you. It
is rather short and narrow, but I thank you none
the less for it."

Meantime Napoleon keeps protesting that there
is only one woman in the world for him. " All
these Polish women are French, but to me there
is but one woman in the world." " In the deserts
of Poland one thinks little of beauties," he writes
in another letter. Following this description of
Poland was the announcement — not altogether
consistent — that the noblesse of the province had
given a ball in his honour : " Very beautiful
women, very rich, dressed in Paris fashion." This,
at least, was a tolerable and an inhabited " desert."

XXIII.

MADAME WALEWSKA.

POOR Josephine's apprehensions turned out to be
well founded. Napoleon met in Warsaw the only
woman who ever made a real impression upon
him since the days when his fiery young fancy so
glowed with love for Josephine. And it was here,
also, that Napoleon met the only woman, except
Josephine, who showed any desire to be faithful
to him in disaster as in the days of his glory.
Napoleon first saw Madame Walewska at that

336 Napoleon.

very ball which he mentioned in his letter to
Josephine. Napoleon afterwards said of her :
" She was a charming woman, an angel. One
might say that her soul was as beautiful as her
face." She is thus described at the moment
when Napoleon saw her for the first time :

" She was two-and-twenty, fair, with blue eyes,
and a skin of dazzling whiteness ; she was not tall,
but perfectly formed, with an exquisite figure. A
slight shadow of melancholy lay on her whole
person, and rendered her still more attractive.
Recently married to an old nobleman of bad
temper and extremely rigid views, she seemed
to Napoleon like a woman who has been sacrificed
and who is unhappy at home. This idea increased
the passionate interest the Emperor felt in her as
soon as he saw her."

The records of the time show that in this case
Napoleon was prompt and strong ; but his love-
making was never of a very refined order. Thirty-
seven years of age, a great General, with Europe
gradually falling at his feet, he conducted his
siege of a woman after the fashion of an attack
on a fortified town. The courtship, indeed, is one
of the most curious in history ; I can but glance
at it for more reasons than one. Says Constant :

" The day after the ball the Emperor seemed
to me in an unusually agitated state. He walked
about the room, sat down, got up, and walked
about again. Immediately after luncheon he sent

Josephine. 337

a great personage to visit Madame Walewska for
him, and to present to her his homage and his
entreaties. She proudly refused proposals made
too brusquely, or was it perhaps the coquetry
innate in woman that suggested to her to refuse ? "

Napoleon, however, wrote a letter which in
some degree made up for his brusqueness, and the
young Countess promised to visit him.

The Emperor, while waiting for her, walked
about the room and displayed as much impatience
as emotion. Every moment he inquired the time.
Madame Walewska arrived at last, but in what a
state ! — pale, dumb, her eyes bathed in tears.

Everybody knows the end of the story.
Madame Walewska, after the disappearance of
Napoleon from her native country, remained in
shadow ; she made her presence felt for the first
time when reverses began to come. Then she
wrote to her old lover, and she visited him in the
island of Elba after his first dethronement. But
perhaps the favour she conferred on him that he
valued most was that she gave him a son. In due
time the son lived to be one of the chief advisers
and Ministers of Napoleon III., and died before
the war in which the whole Napoleonic dynasty
went down.

In the meantime poor Josephine comes part of
the way to her husband, but he tells her to go
back ; the weather, he says, is bad, the roads
unsafe. ' ' Return to Paris," he writes to her ; " be

z

338 Napoleon.

happy and contented." In another letter contain-
ing the same advice, he says : " I wish you to be
gay and to give a little life to the capital." And,
finally, one can see to the depths of the tragedy
when one reads between the lines of this sentence
in one of these letters :

" I wish you to have more strength. I am told
you are always crying. Fie ! How ugly that is ! "

Josephine might well be " always crying." It
was the visit to Poland and the love of Countess
Walewska that led to her own final downfall. It
gave Napoleon the idea of having children, found-
ing a dynasty — in other words, of divorcing his
wife.

XXIV.
THE DIVORCE.

NAPOLEON contemplated a divorce from Jose-
phine, it will be remembered, at an early period
of their married life. However, he and she got
over their difficulties, and divorce did not finally
come from any rupture of affection. I find it hard
to decide what Napoleon really felt at this period
of his life. His present apologist sees in his
conduct in this, as in almost every other circum-
stance, nothing but sublime unselfishness ; sublime
unselfishness was not in Napoleon's nature. On
the other hand, even Taine admits that he had
sensibility, though he contends that it was a
sensibility rather of nerves than of heart. At all

Josephine. 339

events, there are plenty of passages to show that
he did not separate from Josephine without con-
siderable wrench of feeling. When it was sug-
gested to him in 1804 that he ought to look for an
heir, he cried out :

" It is from a feeling of justice that I will not
divorce my wife. My interests, perhaps the in-
terests of the system, demand that I should marry
again. But I have said to myself: * Why should I
put away that good woman simply because I have
become greater ? ' No, it is beyond me. I have
the heart of a man, I am not the offspring of a
tigress. I will not make her unhappy."

Knowing how much of an actor Napoleon was,
it is hard to say whether these excellent senti-
ments were what he really felt, or desired other
people to think he felt ; or may not these sentences
be the compensation he thought himself bound to
make for what he was contemplating ? One of
the subtle tricks of self-love and selfishness is to
imagine that verbal remorse is a sufficient justifi-
cation for unworthy acts. In 1809, however, the
decision so often contemplated was finally made,
and was the result of the liaison with Madame
Walewska. When Napoleon was in the apogee
of his power and glory he spent three months
at Schonbrunn, and during that period Madame
Walewska was his companion. When she became
enceinte Napoleon's hesitation came to an end ; he
determined to have an heir to his throne.

Z 2

34° Napoleon.

There is a curious domestic scene — told with
French verve, and also with that slight spice of
cynicism which one finds in most things French —
when Napoleon was making his final announce^
ments to Josephine. She had fought against the
divorce for a long time ; but finally, weak-willed,
luxury-loving, very much afraid of her husband,
she began to yield. When the final moment
approached, however, she could not resist bring-
ing into the last action all the batteries of her
woman's arts. Napoleon had dined, and then
had been left alone with the Empress. M. de
Bausset tells what followed :

" Suddenly I heard loud cries proceeding from
the Emperor's drawing-room, and emitted by tha
Empress Josephine. The usher, thinking she was
ill, was about to open the door, but I prevented
him, saying that the Emperor would call for help
if he thought right. I was standing near the door
when Napoleon opened it, and, perceiving me, said
hastily: ' Come in, Bausset, and shut the door/ I
entered the drawing-room and saw the Empress
lying on the floor uttering piercing cries. ' I shall
not survive it/ she kept repeating. Napoleon said
to me : f Are you strong enough to lift Josephine
and carry her to her apartments, by the private
staircase communicating with her room, so that
she may have all the care and attention her state
requires ? ' With Napoleon's help I raised her in
my arms, and he, taking a candlestick off the

Josephine: 341

table, lighted me and opened the door of the
drawing-room. When we reached the head of
the staircase, I pointed out to him that it was too
narrow for me to carry her down without running
the risk of a fall. Napoleon called an attendant,
gave him the candle, and himself took hold of
Josephine's legs to help me to descend more
gently. When she felt the efforts I was making
to save myself from falling, she said, in a low
voice : ' You are holding me too tightly.' I then
saw that I need be under no uneasiness as to her
health, and that she had not lost consciousness
for a moment. The Emperor's agitation and
anxiety were extreme. In his trouble he told me
the cause of all that had occurred. His words
came out with difficulty and without sequence,
his voice was choked and his eyes full of tears.
He must have been beside himself to give so
many details to me, who was so far from bis
councils and his confidence. The whole scene
did not last more than seven or eight minutes."

M. Levy does not give the curious scene which
took place when the divorce was being decided
on ; it is one of the instances in which Napoleon
exhibited that extraordinary sensibility which is
one of the contradictions in his strange make-up.
I quote the passage as given by Taine :

" He tosses about a whole night, and laments
like a woman ; he melts and embraces Josephine ;
he is weaker than she. ' My poor Josephine, I

342 Napoleon.

can never leave you ; ' folding her in his arms he
declares that she shall not quit him ; he abandons
himself wholly to the sensation of the moment ;
she must undress at once, sleep by his side, and
he weeps over her. ' Literally/ she says, ' he
soaked the bed with his tears.' "

On the evening of December 15, 1809, Na-
poleon and his wife signed the deed annulling the
marriage. " The Emperor/' says Mollien, " was no
less moved than she, and his tears were genuine."

XXV.

AFTER THE DIVORCE.

AND it is in the few days after the divorce that
for the first time in all that strangely busy career
— every moment of which was devoted to work in
some form or another — Napoleon for the first time
lets sentiment get the better of him, and falls into
the idle languor of regret and grief. He left the
Tuileries on the very night of the divorce " as if
he could not endure the solitude/' and went
"almost alone" to the Trianon. He spent three
days there all by himself, refusing to see even his
Ministers, the first and the last time in all his
reign when business was suspended; and two or
three days after the divorce he could not keep
away from Josephine, and went to visit her at
Malmaison, whither she had retired. She re-
turned the call a few days later by coming to the
Trianon; indeed, the position had that mixture
of tragedy and comedy which one sees in those

Josephine. 343

dramas that set forth the strange surprises that
the divorce laws of America sometimes produce.

" During dinner," says Mademoiselle Avrillon,
"the Empress seemed happy and quite at ease,
and any one would have thought that their Ma-
jesties had never parted."

He also provided a magnificent income for her
— eighty thousand pounds, afterwards increased to
one hundred thousand pounds. Poor Josephine
was not thereby saved from herself; as in the
days of her married life she continued to make
debts, and over and over again Napoleon had
to remonstrate with her. Once he sent M. Mollien
as the messenger of his reproaches.

On his return from Malmaison the Minister
informed the Emperor of Josephine's wretched-
ness at having displeased him ; Napoleon inter-
rupted Mollien, exclaiming, "You ought not to
have made her cry ! "

Josephine, on her side, asked after the child
which Napoleon had by his new wife, had it
brought to see her ; and, finally, when disaster
came upon her husband, offered to rejoin him once
more. She died in 1814, before his final overthrow.

There have been many better women than
Josephine, but the same softness, womanliness,
weaknesses that gave her the empire she once
held over Napoleon's heart, have enabled her to
retain a tender place in the memory of posterity.
She is one of the popular heroines of the great
historic drama.

CHAPTER VIII.
MARIE LOUISE.*

IT is time to tell something of the other woman
who played a great part in Napoleon's career :
Marie Louise, his second wife.

i.

THE CORSICAN OGRE.

I FIND a very good picture of her in an interest-
ing little book called "The Three Empresses."
The three Empresses are Josephine, Marie Louise,
and Eugenie. The volume is simple, unpreten-
tious, rather uncritical ; but the writer is pleasant,
sympathetic, and womanly ; and one can spend
several pleasant hours in her society and that of the
three rather hapless women who are her heroines.

Nothing could have seemed more unlikely in
human affairs than that Marie Louise should be-
come the wife of Napoleon. Here is one of the
first incidents in her life :

* " Three Empresses," by Caroline Gearey. (London :
Digby, Long, & Co.) "Napoleon et les Femmes," by
Frederic Masson. (Paris : Paul Ollendorff.) " The Private
Life of Napoleon," by Arthur LeVy. (London : Richard
Bentley.)

Marie Louise. 345

" Some time during the early spring of the year
1797, a party of Royal fugitives might have been
seen leaving the Austrian capital and hurriedly
making their way along the road to Hungary ;
the progress of their attendants being somewhat
impeded by the many packages of valuable pro-
perty which they were endeavouring to save from
the enemy. Making one of this party of refugees
of the Imperial House of Hapsburg was the little
Archduchess, Marie Louise, then a child between
five and six years old, c whom our imagination,'
writes Sir Walter Scott in his ' Life of Napoleon/
' may conceive agitated by every species of childish
terror derived from the approach of the victorious
general, on whom she was at a future and similar
crisis destined to bestow her hand."

And her education, besides, had been carefully
devoted towards increasing the hatred of the man
who had inflicted this humiliation on her family.
For she was brought up "with the truest respect
for religion, while she learned to eschew revolu-
tionary ideas, more especially as exemplified in
the conduct of Napoleon Bonaparte."

To such an extent was the latter feeling carried,
that when Marie Louise used to play as a child
with her little brothers and sisters, they were
accustomed to select the blackest and ugliest of
their dolls, which they dressed in uniform and
stuck full of pins, in denunciation of the ogre
who was an incarnation of terror to their childish

346 Napoleon.

minds. The young Archduchess had, too, a lively
remembrance of the war in the year 1805, which
also brought Austria to the very verge of ruin.
The Imperial family had on that occasion been
again compelled to flee from their capital, and
writing from Hungary, where they had taken
refuge, to her father, Marie Louise had endea-
voured to console him by the assurance that she
prayed daily and hourly that the power of the
usurper might be humbled in the dust, cheerfully
suggesting that perhaps the Almighty had let
him get so far that his ruin might be more com-
plete when it came.

Later on, when Marie Louise heard that Na-
poleon had lost the battle of Eckmuhl, she wrote
to her father.

" We have heard with joy," she writes, " that
Napoleon was present at the great battle which
he lost. May he lose his head as well ! " She
then goes on to refer to a prophecy which was
current that he would die that year at Cologne,
adding : " I do not attach much importance to
these prophecies, but how happy I should be to
seem them fulfilled."

" Napoleon appeared to her on a background
of blood, a kind of fatal being, a wicked genius, a
satanic Corsican, a sort of Antichrist," thus a
clever French writer sums up the girl's early im-
pressions of her future husband.

To her he was the murderer of the Duke

Marie Louise. 347

d'Enghien, the enemy of every crowned head in
Europe, the author of the treachery at Bayonne,
the persecutor of the Pope, the excommunicated
sovereign.

Finally there was the great, and, as we would
have thought, the insuperable obstacle that Na-
poleon was the child and embodiment of the
French Revolution, and the French Revolution
had guillotined Marie Antoinette, the aunt of
Marie Louise, but fifteen or sixteen years before.

n.

THE REARING OF MARIE LOUISE.

BUT the rearing of Marie Louise had been of a
kind that made her accept pliantly whatever her
father thought it her duty to do. I don't know
a picture much more repulsive than that of the
girlhood of this woman. The French author tells
it with the plainness of speech characteristic of his
race, and though the passage leaves much to be
desired in point of delicacy, it is so true, so life-
like, and so instructive a picture, that I cannot
refrain from giving it :

"She was taught a number of languages,
German, English, Turkish, Bohemian, Spanish,
Italian, French, even Latin, for she is ignorant
of where destiny will take her. The more her
vocabulary is extended, the more words she has
to express the same idea. That is all she wants.

348 Napoleon.

She has many accomplishments, music and draw-
ing, which make a decent and high occupation for
idle Princesses. She has just the semblance of
religion, restraining her to its minutest practices,
but she has been taught how to dispute on the
dogmas, for her future husband may be schismatic.
As for morals, by a carefully arranged mystery,
the Archduchess is allowed to ignore the fact that
in nature there exist beings of different sexes.
With precautions which only the casuists of the
great Spanish schools could conceive of, they strove
in every way to safeguard her innocence, going to
refinements of modesty that became pruriency.
In the yards there were only hens, not a single
male bird amongst them ; there were only hen
canaries in the cages, no songsters ; there were no
male dogs in the rooms, nothing but females. And
the books — such contemptible books — are expur-
gated, scissors in hand, pages, lines, even words,
cut out, without it ever occurring to the cutters
that, in the face of these gaps, even Archduchesses
would think. It is true that a governess, an ayah,
who afterwards became a great lady, kept a tight
rein on even dreams. It was she who held com-
plete sway indoors, assisted at the lessons, directed
and controlled the games, kept watch over the
domestics and the junior schoolmistresses. She
did not quit the pupil either day or night. As
the care of the Princess was an important matter,
and belonged to the domain of politics, the holder

Marie Louise. 349

of this office changed if the ministers went out
of office; Marie Louise had five governesses in
eighteen years, but her education was controlled
by laws so severe and so strict that, beyond the
mutations in the personnel of the establishment,
there was no variety for her.

"For amusement she had those forms which
belong to convent life : flowers to cultivate, birds
to take care of, sometimes a little frolic on the
lawn with the governess's daughter ; on days
when she went out she had a familiar intimacy^
very sweet, but very plebeian, with the old uncles
who dabbled in painting and music. There was
no toilet, no jewellery, no dancing, nor any
participation in the gaieties of the Court — only
some journeys to and from the Diet. The thing
which was the most memorable to Marie Louise —
that which afforded her the greatest break in the
routine of life — was an occasional flight before a
French invasion ; discipline then lost something
of its regularity, and her tasks were somewhat
slackened. Therefore it is not a woman whom
they deliver to Napoleon, it is a child bent to a
control so severe, so uniform, and so narrow, that
any discipline will be sweet in comparison, and
even the least pleasure will be new.

" But if education has in her case so compressed
nature, it need not be feared that nature will
not in due course take its revenge. This is the
education that the daughters of Marie Therese

35O Napoleon.

have received, and we have seen Marie Antoinette
at work at Versailles, Marie Caroline at Naples,
and Marie Amelie at Palma. Doubtless ! But
Napoleon imagined that the husbands had not set
the right way to work, and he has his plans. The
schoolgirl whom he has received will simply pass
out of the convent at Schonbrunn into the
convent of the Tuileries or Saint- Cloud. There
will only be added the husband. There will be
the same inflexible regulations, the same rigorous
surveillance; no liberty of action, no literature
which has not been chosen ; no visits will be
allowed to male friends, the ayah will be replaced
by a duenna, and four feminine guards will be
perpetually on the watch, two at the door, two in
the apartment, night and day, like sentinels before
the enemy."

in.

IPHIGENIA.

UNDER such circumstances, and with such a
training, how could poor Marie Louise regard the
marriage to Napoleon as anything but an act of
self-sacrifice ? And her own people so fully shared
this view that they rather shrank from mentioning
the subject to her. Her father excused himself
from even hinting at it on the ground of not
desiring to even seem to influence her decision;
her young stepmother " utterly declined to have
anything to do with it," and when Metternich

Marie Louise. 351

"first put the proposal before the young Arch-
duchess, she is said to have listened with much
distaste and dismay;" but she presently asked
him : " What does my father wish ? " And that,
after all, was the one decisive question for her.

At first Marie Louise, who was much attached
to her home and family, could look only on the
gloomiest side of the picture, the having to part
from them to journey to a country that was
strange to her, as the affianced bride of a man
whom she had never seen, and whose very name
had been a terror to her. But Metternich did
his very utmost to reassure her by turning her
thoughts to the gaiety and grandeur which awaited
her at the French Court, where she would occupy
a position in which she would have the whole
world at her feet ; while shortly afterwards Na-
poleon despatched Count Montesquieu to Vienna
with his portrait — one of Isabey's exquisite
miniatures set in diamonds — when gazing at it
long and attentively, she observed with an air of
relief: "After all, he is not ill-looking."

IV.
EVERLASTING PEACE.

MEANTIME, every good Austrian thought that the
marriage would ensure permanent alliance between
France and Austria, and there was a tremendous
reaction in Napoleon's favour. Metternich, as

35 2 Napoleon.

the chief manager of the marriage, was especially
popular. To his wife, who had remained in Paris,
the diplomatist wrote :

"All Vienna is interested in nothing but this
marriage. It would be difficult to form an idea
of the public feeling about it and its extreme
popularity. If I had saved the world I could not
receive more homage for the part which I am
supposed to have played in the matter. In the
promotions that are sure to follow I shall have the
Golden Fleece."

The Archduchess herself, too, soon became an
object of intense popular interest. Count Otto de
Mesloy, the French representative at Vienna, was
especially rapturous over the marriage ; for to his
eyes it meant that the alliance would " ensure
lasting tranquillity to Europe, compel England to
make peace, and give the Emperor the necessary
leisure for organising the vast empire he has
created in accordance with his lofty concep-
tions. . . . All humanity will repose beneath the
shadow of the laurels of our august Emperor ;
and after having conquered half Europe he will
add to his numerous victories the most difficult
and most consolatory of all — the conquest of a
general peace."

It is from his dithyrambic pages that we get
the most glowing descriptions of the effect of the
prospect on the Viennese.

" Every morning," writes this enthusiastic

Marie Louise, 353

courtier, " one may see thousands of curious people
station themselves before the Palace, to watch the
Archduchess pass on her way to mass. The people
are delighted to see her radiant with health and
happiness."

There are several pathetic little circumstances
in the period that elapsed between the acceptance
of the marriage and the arrival of Marie Louise
in France. Thus, what could give a better picture
of her girlishness than the following account of an
interview she had with Marshal Berthier, who had
come to Vienna as Napoleon's representative ?

" The Archduchess conversed in the most spon-
taneous and unaffected manner with Marshal
Berthier, telling him that she liked playing the
harp, and asking if she would be allowed to take
lessons, saying that she was fond of flowers, and
so hoped that the Emperor would permit her to
have a botanical garden. She also spoke of
Fontainebleau, and the wild and picturesque scenery
of the forest, adding : ' I like nothing better than
beautiful scenery/ She went on to say that she
trusted that the Emperor would be indulgent to
her, as she did not know how to dance quadrilles,
but added that she would be quite willing to take
dancing lessons if he wished it."

ft A

354 Napoleon.

v.

THE BRIDEGROOM.

MEANTIME the expectant bridegroom presents us
at this period of his life with a picture which is
very unlike that which most of us had formed of
him in our imaginings ; a picture in which we can
scarcely recognise the cruel, terrible, and fateful
being who was able to retain a face impassive as
marble in the midst of the carnage of battle-fields,
and who sent lightly so many hundreds of thou-
sands of human beings to slaughter. The childish
excitement, the keen anxiety, the curious out-
breaks, even of self-distrust, and what I may call
the antics and frivolities of Napoleon at this
epoch, are useful as helping to make us under-
stand how thoroughly human he was after all.
And yet it is a picture which is, on the whole,
repellent to me. One of Napoleon's critics de-
scribed him as Jupiter Scapin — half demigod,
half " Merry Andrew." The grotesque puerilities
under all this iron mask and in this heart of steel,
rather add to the sense of horror at all the gigantic
evil he was capable of creating. A man of
doom, who was at least consistently grave, self-
controlled, and terrible, would be less repellent
than this creature of contradictions, at once so
lofty and so mean, so awful and so grotesque, so
proud and so grovelling.

But let me tell the story of his acts and

Marie Louise. 355

thoughts from contemporary records, and leave
to the reader the conclusions as to his character.
Catherine, daughter of the King of Wurtemberg,
who was with Napoleon at the time in Paris, gives
an excellent description of Napoleon in a letter to
her father :

" You will never believe, my dear father, how
much in love he is with his future wife. He is
excited beyond anything I could have imagined,
and every day he sends one of his chamberlains,
charged, like Mercury, with the missives of Great
Jove. He showed me five of these epistles, which
certainly were not written by St. Paul, but which
really might have been dictated by an ardent
lover. He talks of nothing but her, and what
concerns her ; I will not enumerate for you all the
pleasures and presents he is preparing for her, of
which he has given me a detailed account I will
content myself with showing you the disposition
of his mind by repeating that he told me that,
once married, he would give peace to the whole
world, and all the rest of his time to Zai're."

VI.
AS A WESTERN ODALISQUE.

NAPOLEON'S other acts showed his curious self-
distrust and incurable suspicion of women — a
suspicion founded not merely on his unhappy
experiences with Josephine, but also on his low,

2 A 2

356 Napoleon.

brutal view of the sex. Accordingly, his plans with
regard to his new wife are a singular mixture of
precaution and indulgence. M. Masson declares
that " no man, however high or low in the social
scale, was to be allowed to remain even for a
moment with the Empress." In short, his idea
is that his wife should lead in the West the life
of the dwellers in the harem in the East, except
that the duenna took the place of the eunuch.
But the other side of the system is that Napoleon
offers to his young wife all material comforts,
just like those that "a Sultan would bestow on
his favourite Odalisque."

" At Vienna Marie Louise never knew what it
was to have elegant dresses, exquisite laces, rare
shawls, or luxurious underwear. She will have
now — on condition, however, that no male modiste
approaches her, that the selections are made by
her ladies-in-waiting — everything French industry
can produce, all that is novel, that is dear. He
gives her a foretaste of all these by the trousseau
and jewel-cases which he sends her, every article
of which he has seen himself, and has had packed
under his own eyes."

It will make some of the ladies who read this
article almost envious when I mention even some
of the presents of which Berthier was the bearer to
the young bride.

Among other splendours, says Baron Peyrusse,
were a necklace composed of thirty-two groups of

Marie Louise. 357

stones, valued at 900,000 fr. (^36,000), some ear-
rings which had cost 400,000 fr. (;£ 16,000), and
the portrait of Napoleon set in a circle of sixteen
single diamonds, valued at 600,000 fr. (,£24,000).
Napoleon, we see, could be lavish on behalf of a
betrothed whose dowry was, after all, a modest
one, amounting only to 500,000 fr. (^"20,000).

VII.
THE GILDED CAGE.

IF I had the space I might give a good many
other details from the extraordinarily minute and
laborious pages of M. Masson with regard to the
gilding of Marie Louise's cage. With the same
deadly and appalling quantity of detail which I
observed when quoting from him with regard to
Josephine, M. Masson has counted up the number
of Marie Louise's chemises, dressing-gowns, stock-
ings, etc. ; for her toilet alone the new Empress
was to have an allowance of 30,000 fr. (£1,200) a
month, or 360,000 fr. (;£ 14,400) a year.

" In Vienna she had nothing but a few poor
jewels, which the wife of a bourgeois in Paris would
have despised : a few ornaments for her hair, a few
small pearls, a few in paste — in short, the jewel-
case of a ruined Princess. She will have in Paris
diamonds such as no Princess ever had before. In
Austria she had modest rooms ; in France she will
occupy apartments the decoration of which the

35 8 Napoleon.

Emperor has superintended himself — from which
everything has been removed that might recall the
former occupant — apartments which, in whatever
palace she may reside, will always have the same
little articles of daily use, so that she may every-
where find the same things close to her hands and
follow the same habits. He himself has superin-
tended the selection of all these things also, and
their arrangement. He is so proud of his work
that he invites everybody to see it. ... Marie
Louise, under the system of training to which she
was subjected, was never allowed by her gover-
nesses to take sweets lest they should injure her
digestion; as Napoleon knows that she is a bit of a
glutton, and, like all Viennese women, would like
to eat sweets and drink coffee every hour, he trans-
forms his table, multiplies there sweets, bonbons,
confectionery, and provides daily a lunch of pastry
alone. . . . She cannot say whether she likes the
play or not, for she has never been allowed to go
to the theatre; but she would not be a true
daughter either of her age or her country if she
did not love it. She will now have all kinds of
entertainment — drama or music as often as she
likes, either going with him to the theatres or
having private theatricals in her own palaces. Is
there anything else she wants ? She can have
it — dogs, birds, masters of music, painting, or
embroidery, all kinds of stamps, every sort of
Dunkirk ware — everything, in short, on the one

Marie Louise. 359

condition that she bows to the discipline of the
harem, and leads a life similar to that which she
has been brought up to expect She will only go
out for great ceremonies, civil and religious, to
great balls and theatres, to clubs, to salons, to
vacations, to State journeys. She will appear then
lofty, almost like a goddess, in her great robes,
heavy with diamonds, surrounded by a procession
of ladies-in-waiting, officials — seen from afar off by
the people like an idol. Thus does he gild the
cage and adorn the prison ; thus does he take pre-
cautions for keeping her still a child by amusing
her with toys ; thus does he regulate minutely her
whole life in order that she may pass without any
shock from the state of the captive Archduchess
at Schonbrunn to the state of the captive Em-
press at Paris. Thus does he ensure her continence,
and thus does he place his wife with Caesar's, above
and outside of suspicion."

VIII.
THE NEMESIS OF NATURE.

I CANNOT say whether one should laugh at or
weep over all these things when one knows how
it all ended ; and is Napoleon to be admired or
despised as he goes through all these preparations
for his young bride ? On the whole I cannot —
though it makes him appear rather more good-
natured than one had pictured him — I cannot say

360 Napoleon.

that the picture makes me feel a higher respect
for his character. There is something essentially
vulgar, and perhaps even a little brutal, in it all.
Underneath it all lies the idea which pervades his
whole existence — which is the basis of all his
philosophy — which makes him in many respects
the truest type of the Mephistopheles that real
life has created — namely, the contempt and the
disbelief in everything in human nature except
its low baseness and its selfishness. He wants
to win the heart of a young woman. "Come,
jewellers, architects, dressmakers, pastry-cooks, and
prepare all your wares to set before her. Her
vanity, her gluttony, her love of all creature
comforts — these are the only things in her which
I know; and as for her passions, the only way
by which I can safeguard her and myself from
her longing to gratify them is by shutting her
up in a French harem" — this is the language he
really holds to himself about this young girl.
If she has a soul, or a heart, Napoleon either
does not know or care for their existence. To
him at least they have no reality. Has this
woman affections ? She has, as a matter of fact,
plenty of affection, for it is related of her that
she sends to her father, her stepmother, and her
brothers and sister everything she can extract
out of all those brilliant presents which her
husband is showering upon her — articles of toilet,
furniture, books, precious bits of china — amounting

Marie Louise. 361

in value, it is said, to two hundred thousand francs
a year. But Napoleon does not care to think —
perhaps is incapable of thinking of all this, and
makes no attempt to appeal to this worthier,
better side of the young girl's nature. It is well
to remember all this at this particular moment in
the lives of the two ; it throws a curious light on
the character of Napoleon ; it is the key to their
subsequent relations; above all, it represents the
triumph of the simplicity and the spiritual and
the humane in human nature over the cold
calculations, the material and gross conceptions
of its motives and factors by the cynical and the
corrupt.

IX.
THE FIRST MEETING.

WE can find no better revelation, both of
Napoleon's essential vulgarity and of his dis-
tinctive misunderstanding of the human heart,
than his conduct at his first meeting with his
wife. His apologists do their best to extenuate
and even to eulogise his conduct on this occasion.
I shall be surprised if my readers take the same
view of the transaction.

Let us listen, first, to M. Levy, and see how
he opens the story of the transaction :

" As politics had given Napoleon a new wife,
he undertook to make the conquest. With this
object he invented all sorts of romantic ways of

o

62 Napoleon.

pleasing Marie Louise at their first meeting. In
the opinion of rigorous observers of Court etiquette,
it was no light affair to regulate the first interview.
All the technical works bearing on the subject
were consulted, precedents were hunted up, the
dusty archives sleeping peaceably in corners were
routed out, and finally Prince Schwarzenberg
discussed with Napoleon, line by line, all these
questions of form. Eventually the following
solemn dispositions were made : Tents were raised
between Compiegne and Soissons, two leagues
from the latter town, for the interview between
their Majesties. These tents were placed beside
the road, with two flights of steps to each, whether
from Compiegne or from Soissons. . . . The
Emperor, on receiving notice of the Empress's
approach, was to leave Compiegne with five
carriages, and accompanied by the Princes and
Princesses of his family, and by the grand officers
of state and of his staff who were to travel with
him. . . . The Emperor, on reaching the place
intended for the interview, was to leave his
carriage, and pass through the first tent on the
Compiegne side, in which all the persons of his
suite were to remain. The Empress was to pass
through the first tent on the Soissons side, leaving
there all her suite. It was also arranged that the
Emperor and Empress were to meet in the middle
tent, where would be placed a cushion, before
which the Empress should stop ; that she should

Marie Louise. 363

curtsey, and that the Emperor, raising her, should
embrace her. That a few minutes later their
Majesties should enter a carriage holding six
persons, with the Princesses; that the grand
officers of state and the officers of the staff should
accompany the carriage on horseback. Finally,
that the two processions should unite, so as to
make but one with that of their Majesties at
Compiegne."

Such was the programme ; this is how it was
carried out.

AN ESCAPADE.

THE scene in the three tents was entirely omitted.
As soon as the Emperor heard the Empress had
left Vitry for Soissons, " indifferent to his dignity
and to formality, he jumped into a carriage with
the King of Naples and started off incognito and
without his suite." And it should be added that
a heavy shower of rain was falling at the same
time, and that when he reached the carnage of
the Empress at Courcelles, Napoleon was soaked
through. I quote the remainder of the scene from
M. Levy:

" He approached her carriage without being
recognised, but the equerry, not aware of his
intentions, opened the door, let down the steps,
and cried 'The Emperor/ Napoleon fell on
Marie Louise's neck, who was quite unprepared for

364 Napoleon.

this somewhat rough and gallant greeting, and
then immediately ordered them to drive at full
speed to Compiegne, which was reached at ten
o'clock at night. They passed at full gallop in
front of the tents solemnly erected, and under the
very eyes of the arrangers of Court etiquette, who,
parchments in hand, saw with amazement these
violators of Royal proprieties rush past them. It
will, of course, be imagined that the delicate point
of the relations between the Emperor and Empress
from March 28th (date of the arrival at Com-
piegne) to April ist (date of the consecration of
the civil marriage), had been carefully thought out.
It was expressly stipulated that the Emperor
should sleep at the Hotel de la Chancellerie, and
not at the Palace, during the stay at Compiegne.
On March 28th, at ten o'clock at night, the
procession drove up to the Palace. Supper was
prepared for their Majesties and all the Court in
the Gallery of Francis I. Under the patronage
of that gallant monarch, Napoleon addressed to
his bride words which were emphasized by im-
ploring looks. Marie Louise blushed, and was
dumb with astonishment. To overcome the
scruples of her who was only his wife by proxy,
Napoleon called in the authority of Cardinal
Fesch, to whom he said, in presence of the
Empress : " Is it not true that we are really
married ? " " Yes, sire, according to the civil law,"
replied the Cardinal, little dreaming of the use to

Marie Louise. 365

which his answer would be put. The breakfast
which Napoleon caused to be served next morning
in the room of Marie Louise by her waiting women
dispenses us from explaining how the latter part
of the protocol was eluded, and why the apart-
ments in the Hotel de la Chancellerie did not
shelter their august tenant. His valet says : ' After
his conversation with the Empress, Napoleon re-
tired to his room, scented himself with eau de
Cologne, and, clothed only in a dressing-gown,
returned secretly to the Empress.' To complete
his story, Constant adds : ' Next morning, while
dressing, the Emperor asked me whether any one
had noticed the way he had broken through
the programme.' By his enthusiasm the most
powerful monarch in Europe shows us that his
temperament has not changed since 1796. The
impatience of the Emperor for the arrival of Marie
Louise is the same as that of General Bonaparte
for Josephine/'

I leave the reader to form his own opinion of
the apologies for this strange scene which the
eulogist of Napoleon gives. It does not alter
my view of the transaction. I will not weary,
and perchance disgust, the reader by adding the
even more audacious and franker defences of
M. Masson.

It is pleasanter to be able to record that
Napoleon had the apartments at Compiegne
arranged so as to give them a home-like ap-

366 Napoleon.

pearance to the young bride ; she found there her
favourite dog, "which she had been persuaded to
discard," "some pet birds, and a piece of un-
finished tapestry which she had been working when
she left the Hoff burg for Vienna."

XI.
A PORTRAIT.

AND now for a portrait of the young bride. I
quote from Miss Gearey :

"A tall, stately maiden, fresh and youthful,
abounding in health and strength, with blue eyes,
blonde hair, a pink-and-white complexion, and
an expression of innocence and candour. Marie
Louise could hardly be styled pretty, and her
figure was too much inclined to embonpoint to be
really graceful, but she possessed the indefinable
charm of youth and the attractions which may be
derived from a clear complexion, an abundance of
chestnut hair, and an exquisite set of teeth. She
is said to have been so indifferent to her personal
appearance, and so little fond of dress, that the
Emperor himself insisted on superintending the
bridal toilet, and stood by while the mistress of
the robes placed the crown upon the head of the
Empress and arranged the Imperial mantle upon
her shoulders."

There can be fno doubt that Napoleon did his
best to recommend himself to his young bride ;

Marie Louise. 367

his efforts were of the same mixed character as
those by which he preceded their marriage. As
during his courtship he sought the aid of the tailor
and the dancing-master, so during the early days
of his marriage he oscillated between grotesque
exploits and a considerateness which in one so
hard is interesting, and even a little touching.

" At Court and in society/' says Fouche, " the
instructions were to please the young Empress,
who, without any return, had captivated Na-
poleon; he was quite infatuated about her. The
Empress Marie Louise, his young and insignifi-
cant wife, was the object of his tenderest care.
Napoleon followed her everywhere with loving
looks. She saw that he was proud to show her
everywhere to everybody." Madame Durand,
wife of the General of that name, and principal
lady-in-waiting to the Empress Marie Louise,
says : " During the first three months following
his marriage, the Emperor was day and night
with the Empress. The most urgent business
could hardly drag him away from her for a few
moments." "The Emperor," says Monsieur de
Champagny, " was the best husband in the world.
It would be impossible for any one to display more
delicate and loving attention."

368 Napoleon.

XII.
SELF-DISTRUST.

METTERNICH tells a curious story which reveals
the strange self-distrust of Napoleon before a
daughter of the Hapsburgs :

" I found Napoleon with the Empress. Con-
versation turned upon commonplace topics, when
Napoleon said to me: 'I wish the Empress to
speak openly to you, and tell you candidly what
she thinks of her position. You are a friend, and
she ought to have no secrets from you.' As he
concluded this remark Napoleon locked the
door of the drawing-room, put the key in his
pocket, and disappeared through another door.
I asked the Empress what this scene meant ; she
replied by putting the same question to me. See-
ing that she had not been prepared beforehand
by the Emperor, I guessed that he wished to
enable me to gather from the mouth of the Em-
press herself some ideas upon her domestic life,
so that I might give a favourable report to the
Emperor her father. We remained locked up
together for nearly an hour, when Napoleon
returned, laughing, into the room. 'Well/ said
he, * have you had a good talk ? Did the Empress
say good or bad things about me ? Did she laugh
or cry? I do not ask you for a report; these
are secrets between you two, and do not concern
any third person, even when that third person is

Marie Louise. 369

the husband.' Next day Napoleon found an
opportunity of speaking to me. ' What did the
Empress say to you, yesterday ? ' he asked. * You
told me/ I answered, 'that our conversation did
not concern a third person. Permit me to keep it
a secret.' * The Empress told you/ exclaimed
Napoleon, r that she was happy with me, and that
she had no complaints to make. I hope that you
will repeat it to your Emperor, and that he will
believe you rather than other people."

Indeed, it would appear that for once Na-
poleon was conquered, and stood in awe of
another human being. This was probably what
elicited from his wife the curious, astonishing,
historic phrase : " I am not afraid of Napoleon, but
I begin to think he is of me."

XIII.

NAPOLEON'S FOIBLES.

AND, indeed, she had abundant reason for coming
to this view. He indulges her every whim — in-
deed, he is on the look-out to anticipate them.
He learns that she wants a second set of Brazilian
rubies, but finds her purse unequal to the price.
The Emperor, " highly pleased with the wisdom of
the Empress, and with her methodical disposition,
commanded that a second set should be prepared
similar to the first, but of the value of between
300,000 fr. and 400,000 fr. (,£12,000 to ^16,000),

2 B

370 Napoleon.

and desired that nothing should be said about
what he had heard, or of what he intended to do."

When New Year's Day approaches, he asks her
whether she is not going to send some presents
to her sisters. She answers that she had already
thought about it, and that she had ordered jewels
to the amount of about 25,000 fr. (;£i,ooo). As
he thinks that rather small, she answers that her
sisters were not spoiled as she was, and that they
would think their presents magnificent. The
Emperor then tells her that he had intended to
give her 25,000 fr. for her presents, but that he had
thought it over and would give her double that
amount (^2,000). Eventually the Empress re-
ceives 100,000 fr. (^4,000) from him.

There is nothing which so much tests the love
of married people as the small occurrences of daily
domestic life. Even in these things Napoleon
yielded to his wife. Child of the warm South,
Napoleon was always chilly, could never endure
a cold room ; when he was exhausted and wanted
to be refreshed, he always found refuge in a par-
boiling bath. Even on this point he had to give
way to his wife, accustomed to the icy spaciousness
of Austrian palaces.

" During the autumn following his marriage,"
says Madame Durand, " the Court went to spend
some time at Fontainebleau. Fires were lighted
everywhere, except in the Empress's room, and
she, accustomed to stoves, said that the fire was

Marie Louise. 371

disagreeable to her. One day the Emperor came
to sit with her ; on leaving her room he com-
plained of the cold, and desired the lady-in-
waiting to have a fire lighted. When the Emperor
was gone the Empress countermanded the fire.
The lady-in-waiting was Mademoiselle Rabusson,
a young lady who had recently come from Ecouen,
very simple and outspoken. The Emperor came
back two hours later, and asked why his orders
had not been executed. 'Sire/ said the lady,
' the Empress will not have a fire. She is in her
own rooms here, and I must obey her/ The
Emperor laughed heartily at this answer, and, on
returning to his own room, said to Marshal Duroc,
who happened to be there : c Do you know what
has just happened to me in the Empress's apart-
ments ? I was told that I was not at home there,
and that I could not have a fire/ The answer
provided the Castle with amusement for several
days."

XIV.
HOUSEHOLD CHANGES.

NAPOLEON made even greater sacrifices to his
wife ; he changed his table and his method of
taking his meals. The incessant love of work
which was one of his peculiarities, and one of the
secrets of his prosperity, never, as we know, had
permitted him to spend on his meals even an
approach to a proper length of time. Here is a

2 B 2

372 Napoleon.

description of him which M. Levy has drawn up-
from several different sources, at the period when*
he was at the zenith of his glory and his power :

"The ( pleasure of the table' did not exist
for the Emperor. The simplest food was what
pleased him best, such as ceufs au miroir (a form
of poached egg) ; French beans in salad, na
made dishes, a little Parmesan cheese, a little
Chambertin mixed with water, was what he liked
best. ' In a campaign or on a march/ he wrote to
Duroc, Grand Marshal of the Palace, Met all the
tables, including mine, be served with soup, boiled
beef, a roasted joint, and some vegetables ; no
dessert.' Twelve minutes was the time allowed
at Paris for dinner, which was served at six'
o'clock. Napoleon used to quit the table, leaving
the Empress and the other guests to continue
their repast. His breakfast, which he ate alone
at half-past nine, never lasted more than eight
minutes. It was served on a little round mahogany
table, without a napkin."

Now let me contrast with this picture of
Napoleon this other, after he had passed under
subjection to Marie Louise :

" He who has hitherto regulated his existence
by his business, was now compelled to conciliate,
sometimes even to sacrifice his business to the
tastes, to the desires, sometimes even the caprices
of his wife. His habit had been to lunch alone,
rapidly, at the corner of a table, when business

Marie Louise. 373

permitted him to think of eating at all. Now, at
least during the years 1810 and 1811, after
which he liberated himself, there was a regular
big breakfast at a fixed hour with his wife, a
breakfast with one soup, then entrees, one roast,
two sweets, four hors-d'oeuvre, and a complete
dessert, instead of the four little dishes with which,
up to then, he had been content."

xv.

HORSEPLAY.

AND now I complete the picture of Napoleon at
this period by an extract which will show him,
I will not say in a ridiculous light, but in a
grotesque one. This picture reveals that curious
mixture of greatness and levity which makes him
one of the most astounding amalgams of qualities
in human history — that amalgam which produced
for him the paradoxical epithet of Jupiter Scapin,
to which I have already alluded.

" Since his poverty-stricken youth, solitary and
melancholy, there has remained with him — when
chances of development arrived too late — a taste
for hand games, noisy and active playfulness. This
could not express itself at the right time, and the
result is now seen. His forty-one years endeavour
to accommodate themselves to the eighteen years
of Marie Louise. He is more of a child than she
is, with a species of passion for the amusements

374 Napoleon.

of a schoolboy. See him on horseback pursuing
her in a gallop along the terraces of Saint Cloud.
The horse bucks, the rider falls and gets up
laughing, and crying, 'Breakneck/ See him
playing a game of baseball at Malmaison, kicking
a football, or amusing himself as ' catch-who-can/
To the life of the cloister prepared for her and which
she had wholly accepted, she only proposes one
amendment — she wishes to ride on horseback, a
time-honoured custom for the Princesses of Lor-
raine ever since they were freed from maternal
tutelage. Marie Antoinette has done the same,
and one may remember the similar remonstrance
of Marie Therese. Napoleon will not leave to
anybody else the task of teaching her to manage
a horse. It is he who places the Empress in the
saddle, and holding the horse by the bridle, runs
alongside. When the learner has to some extent
found her seat, each morning after breakfast, he
orders one of his horses to be made ready, jumps
on its back without taking time to put on his boots,
and in the large courtyard where, every ten paces,
a stableman is stationed on orderly duty to guard
against every fall, he prances near his wife in silk
stockings, amusing himself during the gallop with
exciting cries, urging on the horses to make them
stride out, falling himself more frequently than he
wishes.

"... Marie Louise, up to that time, had only
one society trick of which she was proud, that was

Marie Louise. 375

to be able to move her ear without stirring a
muscle of her face. Poor trick ! At present she
plays at billiards, for which she has conceived a
great liking, and provokes the Emperor, who
makes such bad shots that — in order to show
his superiority — he seeks lessons from one of his
chamberlains.

"And always, when she wishes to draw a profile
of her husband, for which he poses himself to
please her, as he would never do for any painter
when she sits at the piano and plays for him
German sonatas, which he likes a little ; or when
she shows him her needlework, the sash or belt
which she has embroidered — as a matter of fact,
her sewing mistress has done the most of it —
he is there attentive, absorbed in her, trying to
enlighten her, to amuse her, 'his good Louise
Marie/ and by his middle-class 'theeing' and
'thouing' astonishes his stiff-necked Court, for
the husbands of the Faubourg Saint-Germain take
care not to use the second person singular to
their wives."

XVI.

DELICACY.

ANOTHER story from Metternich reveals another
example of Napoleon's curious delicacy in re-
monstrating with his wife, as well as that morbid
suspicion by which he was constantly haunted.
Napoleon had appointed the Duchess of Mon-

376 Napoleon.

tebello as her duenna. One day Napoleon hears
that, while walking in the park at Saint Cloud,
the Duchess has presented to the Empress one of
her cousins. At once Napoleon sends Metternich
to remonstrate. And this is how the account of
Metternich goes on. Napoleon is speaking :

" * The Empress spoke to him, and was wrong
in so doing; if she allows all sorts of young men
to be presented to her, she will soon fall a prey to
intriguers. Every one in France has always a
favour to ask. The Empress will be deceived,
and, without being able to do any good, will be
exposed to a great many annoyances.' I told
Napoleon that I shared his views, but that I failed
to understand his motives for taking me into his
confidence. ' It is,' he replied, ' because I want
you to speak to the Empress.' I expressed
surprise that he did not speak to her himself.
' The advice is good and wise,' I added, ' and the
Empress has much too much sense not to see it.'
f I prefer,' he broke in, ' that you should under-
take the commission. The Empress is young;
she might think me disagreeable. You are her
father's minister and a friend of her childhood,
and what you say to her will make more im-
pression upon her than anything that comes from

Marie Louise. 377

XVII.
A SON.

AND now, within three months after the marriage,
Marie Louise gave signs that she was going to
become a mother; and Napoleon is transported.
At eight in the morning, on March 2Oth, 1811,
after a painful time and some danger, Marie
Louise gave birth to the poor child who is known
to history as the Duke of Reichstadt.

The child remained seven minutes without
giving a sign of life ; Napoleon glanced at him,
thought him dead, and occupied himself solely
with the Empress. At last the child emitted a
cry, and then the Emperor went and kissed his
son. The crowd assembled in the Tuileries
gardens awaited with anxiety the delivery of the
Empress. A salute of twenty-one guns was to
announce a girl, a hundred a son. At the twenty-
second report, delirious joy spread among the
people. Napoleon, standing behind a curtain at
one of the windows of the Empress's room, enjoyed
the spectacle of the general intoxication, and was
profoundly moved by it. Large tears rolled down
his cheeks, of which he seemed to be unconscious,
and in that state he came to kiss his son a second
time.

Napoleon.

XVIII.
NAPOLEON AS A FATHER.

NAPOLEON was an indulgent father. Here is a
picture of the terrible man whose existence was
fatal to so many human beings, on which it is
well for a few moments to dwell.

"Entrance to his study," says Mdneval, "was
forbidden to every one. He would not allow the
nurse to come in, and used to beg Marie Louise
to bring in her son herself; but the Empress was
so little sure of her strength when she took him
from the arms of the nurse, that the Emperor, who
stood waiting for her at the door, used to hasten
to meet her, take the child in his arms, and carry
him off, covering him with kisses. If he were at
his writing-table, about to sign a despatch, of
which each word had to be weighed, his son lying
on his knees, or pressed against his chest, did
not leave him. Sometimes he would drive away
the important thoughts that occupied his mind,
and, lying down on the ground, would play with
this darling son like another child, careful to dis-
cover what would amuse him, and to avoid any-
thing that teased him. His devotion to and
patience with his boy were inexhaustible. The
Emperor loved his son passionately ; he took him
in his arms every time he saw him, picked him
up quickly from the ground, then put him down
again, and picked him up again, laughing at the

Marie Louise. 379

child's amusement. He teased him, carrying him
in front of the looking-glass, and making grimaces
at him, at which the child laughed till he cried.
At luncheon-time he would take him on his knee,
and dipping his finger in the sauce, smear his face
with it."

XIX.

I MUST pass rapidly over the remainder of the
story; it is not edifying. When Napoleon's mis-
fortunes came, Marie Louise reverted to her old
allegiance, and became the dutiful daughter of
her father — the loyal subject of Austria — once
again. When Napoleon was defeated, and had
to fly to Elba, he hoped, or professed to hope,
that his exile would be shared. " In the island
of Elba," he said, "I may still be happy with
my wife and my son." When his letters from
Elba received no answer, he took alarm, and sent
messengers, and wrote letter after letter to his
absent wife. "I expect/' he says in one, "the
Empress at the end of August. I desire her to
bring my son, and ... I am surprised at not re-
ceiving any news of her." And when he left Elba
to begin the gigantic but brief struggle of the
Hundred Days, he appealed to the Emperor of
Austria not to separate husband and wife, father
and son :

" I am too well acquainted with the principles

380 Napoleon.

of your Majesty — I know too well what value you
attach to family ties, not to feel a happy con-
viction that you will hasten, whatever may be the
inclinations of your Cabinet and your policy, to
help me in pressing forward the moment of meet-
ing between a wife and her husband, and a child
with his father."

xx.

NEIPPERG.

MARIE LOUISE had found another man who
obtained over her an ascendency which Napoleon
•never could attain. The intrigue which ended
in making Marie Louise the mistress of Count
Neipperg, is obscure ; but there is a general im-
pression that Metternich and her own father were
responsible for it. Neipperg was a professional
lady-killer, was brave, agreeable, a musician, and
apparently an amiable man at bottom. While
Napoleon was at Elba, Marie Louise was at Aix-
les-Bains, with Neipperg in her train. Later on
they took an excursion to Switzerland together,
and before Napoleon died, she had borne Neipperg
at least one child.

The Powers had bestowed upon her the Duchy
of Parma. Neipperg was her Prime Minister,
and governed the kingdom well enough to give
it prosperity, and to make himself much beloved.
She did not see much of her son by Napoleon —
an unhappy and interesting boy, over whose early

Marie Louise. 381

death sinister rumours have been secretly current
ever since. I have no time to tell that poor lad's
pathetic story. The scanty pictures we have of
him leave a pleasant impression. He was always
attached to the memory of his father, showed
an early love for a soldier's life, and dreamed
constantly of a great future. But his tiny life
was brief — he died of consumption. The best
epitaph on his career was his own. A cradle
had been presented to him when he was a new-
born baby by the Viennese, and it was restored
to the Schatzzimmer, or Treasury, at Vienna ;
and the Treasury was not far from the Capuchin
Church in Vienna, where the bodies of the Haps-
burg family lie. This will explain the saying of
the young Prince.

" My cradle and my grave will be near to
each other," said the Prince, when he was lying
ill. " My birth, and my death, that is my whole
history."

XXI.

1L SERENISSIMO.

THE memory of Napoleon seems to have made
little impression on Marie Louise. She declared
afterwards that she had never loved him. Years
after Napoleon's death, referring to her first mar-
riage, she said, " I was sacrificed." When somebody
asked her how she felt the change from the dignity
of an Empress to the poor status of a Grand
Duchess, she exclaimed :

382 Napoleon.

"Ah, my God, I am happier here; and that
period of my life only lives in my memory as a
miserable dream."

She herself gave the best explanation of the
kind of character which the training of a Court
produces in its women.

" We Princesses," she said, " are not brought
up as other women, nor with the same family
sentiments. We are always prepared for events
which may transport us from our relatives and
give us new and sometimes antagonistic interests.
Look at my poor sister who went to live in Brazil,
unhappy and far from all belonging to her."

It was, perhaps, this training that enabled her
to so easily change her allegiance, to so calmly
bear her transformations of fortune. Even the
death of Napoleon seems to have made little
impression on her.

" According to a letter written by Count
Neipperg to Prince Metternich, and quoted by
M. Saint-Amand, she puts on mourning (but not
widow's weeds), while the members of her house-
hold were ordered to wear it for three months.
Two funeral services were celebrated in honour of
the man who had once stood in the relation of
husband to the Duchess of Parma, while a notice
of his death was at the same time inserted in the
Gazette de Panne. The astute and diplomatic
Neipperg actually wrote to inform Prince Metter-
nich that this insertion had appeared without any

Marie Louise. 383

reference to the title of Emperor or ex-Emperor,
or the names of Napoleon or Bonaparte, which he
was pleased to remark were { inadmissible/ and
could only serve to wound the heart of Her
Majesty the Duchess. It had therefore been
arranged that the mighty conqueror, before whose
prowess all Europe had once trembled, should
have a funeral service held in his honour under
the style and title of// Serenissimo! a conveniently
vague term which, according to Neipperg, might be
indiscriminately applied to any degree of princely
gradation."

" Nothing could be more delicious than this —
Napoleon's name masked under the alias of //
Serenissimo I Perhaps the irony is even greater
that his death gave his widow welcome relief,
allowed her first to marry Neipperg, and after-
wards to descend, after Neipperg's death, on
Count Bombelles, a French officer in the Austrian
service. To Bombelles she left the greater part of
her fortune when she died in 1 847, at the age of
fifty-six. Meantime, 1840 had come, and the
second funeral of Napoleon ; the apotheosis that
ended in that tomb in the Invalides, at which I
stood gazing the other day. And so even
Neipperg and Marie Louise and the Gazette de
Parme proved of no avail. Napoleon's name is
still spoken. // Serenissimo I It was sublime ! "

CHAPTER IX.
NAPOLEON'S LAST VOYAGES.*

ADMIRAL USSHER was one of the many gallant
Irishmen who have served the British Empire on
sea. He took a prominent and a brave part in the
naval engagements between England and France
during the reign of Napoleon. In April, 1814, he
was stationed off Toulon, and so he came un-
expectedly to play a prominent part in one of the
closing scenes of Napoleon's life. It was he who
took Napoleon to Elba after the first abdication.

AN ADVENTUROUS ENTERPRISE.

THE narrative in which he described this great
adventure is simple, straightforward, often sub-
limely and heroically unconscious. I cannot
imagine anything more striking than the calm way
in which the author describes what must have ap-
peared, to any but a fearless man, a dare-devil and
almost certainly fatal enterprise. As thus : On

* " Napoleon's Last Voyages," the Diaries of Admiral
Ussher and John R. Glover. (London : Fisher Unwin.)

Napoleon's Last Voyages. 385

April 24th, 1814, he observed, at ten o'clock at
night, a brilliant light in the direction of Marseilles,
" which," he says, " I conjectured was an illumina-
tion for some important event." This was all he
had to go upon, yet he made no hesitation as to
his proper course ; and here is what followed : ,

" Every sail was then set on both ships, and
every exertion was made to work up the bay. At
daybreak we were close off the land. All was
apparently quiet in the batteries, and not a flag
flying ; nor were the telegraphs at work, which
was uniformly the case on the approach of the
enemy. Everything betokened that some great
change had taken place. The morning was serene
and beautiful, with a light wind from the south-
ward. Eager to know what had happened, but
above all anxious to hear (for who that has once
experienced the horrors and miseries of war can
wish for its continuance ?) that peace had been
restored, I sailed in toward the island of Pome'gue^
which protects the anchorage of the bay of Mar-
seilles. To guard against a surprise, however,
should such be attempted, I took the precaution
of clearing the ship for action, and made signal to
the Euryalus to shorten sail, that in the event
of the batteries opening unexpectedly upon the
Undaunted my friend Captain Napier, by whose
judgment and gallant conduct I had on other
occasions profited, might render me any assistance,
in the event of my being disabled. We now

2 c

386 Napoleon.

showed our colours, and hoisted at the main a flag
of truce, and the Royal Standard of the Bour-
bons, which the ship's tailor had made during the
night. This flag had not been displayed on the
French coast for a quarter of a century. Thus
equipped, we were allowed to approach within
gunshot, when we observed men coming into the
battery, and almost immediately a shot struck us
on the main deck. Finding it was not their
intention to allow us to proceed, I gave orders to
wear ship, and hauled down the flag of truce and
standard. While wearing, a second shot was
fired, which dropped under the counter. This
unusual and unwarrantable departure from the
rules of civilised warfare I resolved to notice in
the only way such attacks ought to be noticed,
and determined at once, in the promptest and
most energetic way, to convince our assailants
that under no circumstances was the British flag
to be insulted with impunity. I therefore again
wore round, and, arriving within point-blank shot
of the battery, poured in a broadside that swept
it completely, and in five minutes not a man was
to be seen near the guns. It was entirely aban-
doned. I now made sail for a second battery,
and by a signal directed the Euryalus to close,
intending to anchor off the town. Shortly after-
ward, observing a boat with a flag of truce
standing out of the harbour, I shortened sail to
receive it. On coming alongside, I found she had

Napoleon's Last Voyages. 387

on board the mayor and the municipal officers of
Marseilles, who had come from the town to
apologise for the conduct pursued by the batteries,
intimating that it was an unauthorised act of
some of the men. They informed me of the
abdication of Napoleon."

What splendid rashness — this entrance into
a great and well-guarded city with a single ship,
simply because " I conjectured " there had been
some " important event " !

ii.

MARSEILLES AFTER THE ABDICATION.

HOWEVER, fortune favoured the brave, and Captain
Ussher soon had abundant evidence that the
invader was welcome. I know few pictures which
bring home to the mind so clearly the absolute
horror and despair which Napoleon's career had
at last produced, as that to be found in the pages
of Admiral Ussher. The gallant officer landed,
and here is what happened :

" Never did I witness such a scene as now
presented itself, as, almost choked by the em-
braces of old and young, we were hoisted on
their shoulders and hurried along we knew not
whither. I certainly did not envy the situation of
my friend Captain Napier, whom I saw most
lovingly embraced by an old lady with one eye,

2 c 2

388 Napoleon.

from whom he endeavoured in vain to extricate
himself, not using, I must say, the gentlest terms
our language affords. In this way we arrived at
the Hotel de Ville, amid loud cries of 'Vive
les Anglais ! ' We were received by our friends
who had come with the flag of truce in the
morning, but who were evidently not prepared for
such a visit from us now. . . . They now politely
requested us to wait upon the general in command.
We found that officer attending High Mass at the
cathedral, and it is hardly possible to describe
his astonishment, and the excitement caused by
seeing two British naval officers, in their uniforms,
in the midst of the congregation. I went up to
the general, who received me with much apparent
cordiality, and with considerable tact (for we were
at the time the greater * lion ' of the two) invited
us to join the procession (I think it was that of the
Virgin), for which preparations had been made,
and which was about to set out from the church
where we then were. The streets through which
we passed were excessively crowded, so much so
that it was with the utmost difficulty the pro-
cession could make its way at all. The predomi-
nance of old people and children among the crowd
was remarkable. Commenting upon this to some
of the municipal officers, I was told that this
was caused by the conscription, which had swept
off without distinction (like another plague) all
the young men who were capable of bearing arms,

Napoleon's Last Voyages. 389

causing indescribable misery not only here, but
everywhere throughout France, Happy indeed
were these poor people at seeing us among them,
the harbinger of peace, which many of them had
so long and ardently desired. That this was the
prevailing feeling among them their whole de-
meanour amply testified, as with loud vociferations
of f Vive les Anglais ! ' they plainly told us that
we were not unwelcome visitors."

It is well to always bring into relief the
terrible consequences of Napoleon's campaigns
in the decimation of the French population.
People who, in despair at the divisions, the
squalors, and the helplessness of French political
life, sigh for the return of a great autocrat,
always ignore this feature in the career of
Napoleon. When somebody said that the
picture of Napoleon still occupied a place in
every cottage in the land, the obvious and just
retort was made that if it had not been for
Napoleon the place would have been occupied
by the picture of the eldest son of the family,
whom Napoleon had sent to premature and
awful death.

in.

THE FALLEN EMPEROR.

FROM Marseilles Admiral Ussher went on to
Frejus, from which Napoleon was to embark
for Elba. He found the fallen Emperor in " Le

390 Napoleon.

Chapeau Rouge," the small and solitary inn of
the place.

" Napoleon was dressed in the regimentals
of the Old Guard, and wore the star of the
Legion of Honour. He walked forward to meet
us, with a book open in his hand, to which he
occasionally referred when asking me questions
about Elba and the voyage thither. He received
us with great condescension and politeness ; his
manner was dignified, but he appeared to feel
his fallen state. Having asked me several
questions regarding my ship, he invited us to
dine with him, upon which we retired. Shortly
afterwards I was waited upon by Comte Bertrand,
who presented us with lists of the baggage,
carriages, horses, etc., belonging to the Emperor.
I immediately made arrangements for receiving
them, and then demanded an interview with the
several envoys of the allied Sovereigns, feeling
that, being placed in a position of such peculiar
responsibility and delicacy, it was necessary to
hear from them the instructions they had re-
ceived from their respective sovereigns that I
might shape my conduct accordingly, and par-
ticularly that I might learn from them what cere-
mony was to be observed at Napoleon's embarka-
tion, and on arriving on board the Undaunted, as
I was desirous to treat him with that generosity
toward a fallen enemy which is ever congenial to
the spirit and feelings of Englishmen."

Napoleon's Last Voyages. 391

Napoleon always kept a friendly recollection
of Admiral Ussher ; one can see in these sentences
the origin of the feeling.

IV.
DEPARTURE FOR ELBA.

IT was characteristic of the desire of France to
get rid of Napoleon that Ussher was woke up
at four o'clock in the morning after he had
dined with Napoleon, "by two of the principal
inhabitants," "who had come into my room to
implore me to embark the Emperor as quickly
as possible," intelligence having been received
that the army of Italy, lately under the command
of Eugene Beauharnais, was broken up ; that
the soldiers were entering France in large bodies.

These fears were not, apparently, altogether
groundless, for Ussher observed that Napoleon
" was in no hurry to quit the shores of France."
Under the circumstances, Ussher was requested
by the representatives of the Powers to gently
force the Emperor to leave, and this he did
with much combined firmness and tact :

" I demanded an interview, and pointed out to
the Emperor the uncertainty of winds, and the diffi-
culty I should have in landing in the boats should
the wind change to the southward and drive in a
swell upon the beach, which, from the present
appearance of the weather, would in all proba-

392 Napoleon.

bility happen before many hours ; in which case I
should be obliged, for the safety of His Majesty's
ship, to put to sea again. I then took leave and
went on board. . . . Napoleon, finding that it was
rny determination to put to sea, saw the necessity
of yielding to circumstances. Bertrand was ac-
cordingly directed to have the carriages ready at
seven o'clock. I waited on the Emperor at a
quarter before seven to inform him that my barge
was at the beach. I remained alone with him in
his room at the town until the carriage which was
to convey him to the boat was announced. He
walked up and down the room, apparently in deep
thought. There was a loud noise in the street,
upon which I remarked that a French mob was
the worst of all mobs (I hardly know why I made
this remark). ' Yes/ he replied, c they are fickle
people ; ' and added : ' They are like a weather-
cock/ At this moment Count Bertrand an-
nounced the carriages. He immediately put on
his sword, which was lying on the table, and said :
* Allons, Capitaine.' I turned from him to see
if my sword was loose in the scabbard, fancying
I might have occasion to use it. The folding-
doors, which opened on a pretty large landing-
place, were now thrown open, when there appeared
a number of most respectable-looking people, the
ladies in full dress, watting to see him. They
were perfectly silent, but bowed most respectfully
to the Emperor, who went up to a very pretty

Napoleon's Last Voyages. 393

young woman in the midst of the group and asked
her, in a courteous tone, if she were married, and
how many children she had. He scarcely waited
for a reply, but, bowing to each individual as he
descended the staircase, stepped into his carriage,
desiring Baron Roller, Comte Bertrand, and me to
accompany him. The carriage immediately drove
off at full speed to the beach, followed by the
carriages of the envoys. The scene was deeply
interesting. It was a bright moonlight night,
with little wind ; a regiment of cavalry was drawn
up in a line upon the beach and among the trees.
As the carriages approached the bugles sounded,
which, with the neighing of the horses, and the
noise of the people assembled to bid adieu to
their fallen chief, was to me in the highest degree
interesting."

v.
NAPOLEON'S POWERS OF OBSERVATION.

NAPOLEON soon began to reveal that extraordinary
power of observation, tenacity of memory, and
mastery of detail which did so much to account
for his greatness in war. " Nothing," writes Ussher,
41 seemed to escape his observation." When a
question arose as to where the ship should anchor
on the Corsican shore, Napoleon "proposed Calvi,
with which he was perfectly acquainted, mention-
ing the depth of the water, with other remarks on
the harbour, etc., which convinced me that he

394 Napoleon.

would make us an excellent pilot had we touched
there." Talking to an English lieutenant who
had been in charge of the transports that brought
to Elba Napoleon's horses, baggage, etc., he "gave
a remarkable proof of his retentive memory."
Lieutenant Bailey informed him that after the
Guards had embarked a violent gale of wind arose,
with a heavy sea, which at one time threatened
the destruction of the transports, and that he
considered Savona a dangerous anchorage. Na-
poleon remarked that if he had gone to a small
bay (I think it was Vado) near Savona, he might
have lain there in perfect safety.

VI.
RULER OF ELBA.

THE other quality of Napoleon which comes out
most vividly from Ussher's narrative, was the
facility with which he settled down to the work
of governing his little island. Think of the awful
strain through which he had passed for all these
years, and especially in those which immediately
preceded his overthrow, and then wonder at
the vast power of recovery he showed when
he was able to sit down for hours and dis-
cuss with an English naval officer the new flag
which he was going to give to Elba ! And when
the time came for him to land, he went through
the ceremony of taking possession of his little

Napoleon's Last Voyages. 395

territory as imperially as though he were entering
Paris. And immediately he set to practical work,
as though the smallest affairs of this little king-
dom were as much worthy of attention as even
the world-stirring events in which he had been
playing the principal part for nearly twenty years.
Take this entry, for instance :

" May 5. — At four a.m. I was awakened by
shouts of ' Vive 1'Empereur ! ' and by drums
beating ; Napoleon was already up, and going on
foot over the fortifications, magazines, and store-
houses. At ten he returned to breakfast, and at
two mounted his horse, and I accompanied him
two leagues into the country. He examined
various country houses, and gave some money to
all the poor we met on the road. At seven he
returned to dinner."

And, again, on May 6, the following day, we
have a somewhat similar entry :

" Already he had plans in agitation for con-
veying water from the mountains to the city. It
appears always to have been considered by him of
the first importance to have a supply of good
water for the inhabitants of towns, and upon this
occasion it was evidently the first thing that
occupied his mind, having, almost immediately
after arrival, requested me to go with him in the
barge in search of water."

And, again, watch him on May 7 :

" May 7. — Napoleon was employed visiting the

Napoleon.

town and fortifications. After breakfast he again
embarked in the barge, and visited the different
storehouses round the harbour."

And two final extracts will give an even better
idea of how this marvellous creature could rise
superior to the worst reverses of fortune. It is
the entry under date May 9 :

"May 9. — This day I accompanied Napoleon to
Longone, where we lunched amid repeated cries of
' Vive 1'Empereur ! ' . . . Instead of returning by
the same road,, he turned off by goat-paths to
examine the coast, humming Italian airs, which he
does very often, and seemed quite in spirits/'

And on the evening of the second day " he
entered upon the subject of the armies and their
operations at the close of the last campaign, and
continued it for half an hour, until he rose from
table. After passing into the presence-chamber,
the conversation again turned on the campaign,
his own policy, the Bourbons, etc., and he con-
tinued talking with great animation till midnight,
remaining on his legs for three hours."

In this last scene Napoleon is quite himself.
Everybody familiar with his character and de-
meanour will know that he was a tremendous
talker. It was only on the battle-field that he
maintained the immobile face and the sphinx-
like silence which he believed necessary to main-
tain the morals of his army; in private he had
all the excessive mobility, the great love of con-

Napoleon's Last Voyages. 397

versation, and the high powers of rhetoric which,
came to him from his Italian blood.

VII.
THE VOYAGE TO ST. HELENA.

IT will be seen that Napoleon made almost a
conquest of the heart of Ussher, that he was
treated still as a Royalty, and that accordingly
the narrative of the British officer is sympathetic
and even eulogistic. The other narrative — that
which describes the voyage to St. Helena — is
written in a very different spirit. Even those
who do not love Napoleon cannot feel altogether
pleased with the almost studied rudeness with
which the fallen Emperor was treated on board
the Northumberland. Here, for instance, is how
Napoleon was treated on the question of cabin
accommodation :

" The Admiral after this went into the after-
cabin with some of the officers, and rinding
Bonaparte seemed to assume an exclusive right
to this cabin, he desired Marechal Bertrand to
explain that the after-cabin must be considered
as common to us all, and that the sleeping cabin
could alone be considered as exclusively his.
Bonaparte received this intimation with submission
and apparent good-humour, and soon after went
on deck, where he remained a considerable time,
asking various questions of each officer of trifling

398 Napoleon.

import. He particularly asked Sir George
Bingham and Captain Greatly to what regi-
ments they belonged, and when told that Captain
Greatly belonged to the Artillery, he replied
quickly, * I also belong to the Artillery.' After
conversing on deck for some time, this ex-
Emperor retired to the cabin allotted him as
a sleeping cabin, which is about nine feet wide
and twelve feet long, with a narrow passage
leading to the quarter-gallery. The Admiral had
a similar sleeping cabin on the opposite side.
The after-cabin is our general sitting-room, and
the fore-cabin our mess-room ; the others of the
party are accommodated below by the captain
and some of the officers giving up their cabins,
and by building others on the main-deck. Thus
this man, who but a short time since kept
nations in dread, and had thousands at his nod,
has descended from the Emperor to the General
with a flexibility of mind more easily to be
imagined than described. He is henceforth to
be styled General, and by directions from our
Government, he is to have the same honours
and respect paid him as a British General not
in employ."

VIII.
A CAGED LION.

THE picture of Napoleon at table is not inviting.
It seems that he there preserved his bad manners
to the end :

Napoleon's Last Voyages. 399

"At six p.m. dinner was announced, when
we all sat down in apparent good spirits, and
our actions declared our appetites fully equal
to those spirits. General Bonaparte ate of every
dish at table, using his fingers instead of a fork,
seeming to prefer the rich dishes to the plain-
dressed food, and not even tasting vegetables.
Claret was his beverage, which he drank out of
a tumbler, keeping the bottle before him. He
conversed the whole of dinner time. . . . After
dinner he did not drink wine, but he took a
glass of noyau after his coffee, previous to rising
from table. After dinner he walked the
deck, conversing principally with the Admiral.
. . . After walking for some time he proposed
a round game at cards, in compliance with which
the Admiral, Sir George Bingham, Captain Ross,
and myself assembled with General Bonaparte
and his followers in the after-cabin, where we
played at vingt-un [stc] (which was the game
chosen by the Emperor) till nearly eleven o'clock,
when we all retired to our beds."

I have given one specimen of the kind of petty
humiliations to which Napoleon was exposed ; here
is another :

" He sat but a short time at dinner, and then
went on deck, where he walked, keeping his hat
off, and looking round steadfastly and rather
sternly to see if the British officers did the same.
However, as the Admiral, after saluting the deck

400 Napoleon.

put his hat on, the officers did the same (the
Admiral having previously desired that the officers
should not be uncovered), and thus not a British
head was uncovered, at which he was evidently
piqued, and soon retired to the after-cabin. His
followers were constantly uncovered in his presence,
and watched his every motion with obsequious
attention. About eight p.m., General Gourgaud
begged of us to join the vingt-un party, which the
Admiral, Sir George Bingham, Captain Ross, and
myself did, and played until about half-past nine,
when Bonaparte retired to bed. During this
evening he talked but little and appeared sulky ;
however, this produced no alteration in our manner
toward him, neither was he paid more respect
than any other officer present."

And here comes a delicious revelation of the
difficulties with which human nature repressed
itself in spite of violent political prejudices. I have
italicised a sentence in this passage :

" His fellow prisoners are ever uncovered in.
his presence, and in speaking to him invariably
address him either ( Sire ' or ' Votre Majeste/ but
the Admiral, as well as the officers, at all times
addressed him as General. However, the difficulty
of repressing the inclination to pay him marked
attention is evident, and the curiosity of both officers
and men in watching his actions is very easily
perceived."

Napoleon's Last Voyages. 401

IX.

LIFE IN ST. HELENA.

IN this narrative, as in that which I began, there
is the same remarkable evidence of an almost
complete recovery of spirits by Napoleon. There
are constant entries to the effect that he seemed
in excellent spirits, and spoke constantly to the
Admiral. Sometimes he is spoken of as in " un-
commonly high spirits," and sometimes, when he
plays cards, he is one of as " noisy a group as ever
assembled on such an occasion."

After his landing in St. Helena, his real decline
of health and spirits began, and there is something
saddening in the contrast between the comparative
tranquillity, and even liveliness, of his spirits on
board the vessel, and the beginning of that fight
with not too chivalrous guardians, which broke
him down and killed him at a comparatively early
age. One of his susceptibilities was as to the
presence near him of British soldiers.

Talking of Longwood House, this is what the
narrator says :

" From the house you have a commanding view
to the eastward of the sea and the shipping, and
to the northward the camp of the 53rd forms a
pleasing object in the foreground to any one except
Bonaparte, who seems to loathe the sight of a
British ^soldier, and at whose particular request

2 D

4O2 Napoleon.

great pains were taken to place the camp out of
his sight. But this could not be done without
giving up the very best situation for a camp."

Finally, Napoleon began to be even forgotten
by the people among whom his lot was cast :

' ' Bonaparte leads a secluded life, few or none
ever going near him, although no person of
respectability has been refused a pass when asked
for ; but so little is he now thought of that his
name is seldom or never mentioned, except on the
arrival of a ship. Indeed, the inhabitants express
so little curiosity that two-thirds of them have not
yet seen him (although he has been to St. Helena
eight months), nor do they ever seem inclined to
go a hundred yards out of their way for that
purpose. Even Mrs. Wilkes, the wife of the late
Governor, although she was six months in the
island after he arrived, went away without seeing
him, whereas the curiosity of the passengers going
home from India has almost exceeded credibility."

x.

NAPOLEON'S SELFISHNESS.

FINALLY, our bluff English observer is disgusted
by Napoleon's selfishness in the small affairs of
daily life, and this is his estimate of his character
and manners :

" Greatness of mind or character, in my opinion,
he does not possess, very frequently acting like a

Napoleon's Last Voyages. 403

mere spoilt child. Feeling I consider him devoid
of. Every religion is alike to him, and did I
believe there existed such a being as an Atheist,
I should say Bonaparte is that being. Of those
about him, he seems neither to care nor feel for
the privations they undergo from their blind and
infatuated attachment to him, which many of
his actions prove, and which the following cir-
cumstance, which occurred during the passage
out, will show. Madame Bertrand had been con-
fined to her cabin by serious illness for ten days
or a fortnight. On her appearing in the cabin,
we all congratulated her on her recovery. This
was in the forenoon, and about two o'clock
Bonaparte came into the cabin, and sat down
to play at chess with General Montholon. At
this time Madame Bertrand was below, but soon
after made her appearance, seemingly to pay
her devoirs to this once great man. Putting on
one of her best smiles, she approached the table
where he was playing, and where she stood by
his side silent for some time, no doubt in anxious
expectation of receiving the Emperor's con-
gratulations, which would have amply repaid all
sufferings she had undergone. But in this, dis-
appointment alone was her portion, for he merely
stared her steadfastly in the face, and then con-
tinued his game of chess without taking the
slightest further notice. She, evidently piqued,
quitted the table, and came over to the other

2 D 2

404 Napoleon.

side of the cabin, where she sat by me on the
sofa until dinner was announced, when the Admiral,
as he usually did, handed her to her seat. Even
sitting down at table he took not the slightest
notice of her, but began eating his dinner. During
the dinner, missing the bottle of claret which
usually stood before him, and Madame Bertrand,
ever watchful of his motions, having handed him
one which was near her, he very condescendingly
exclaimed, ' Ah ! comment se porte madame ? '
and then very deliberately continued his meal.
This, and this alone, was all the notice the long
and serious illness of his favourite drew forth."

It will be seen that these two narratives, though
they cannot be described as inspired or luminous,
are valuable additions to our knowledge of a
man whose tyranny over the imagination and
the interest of mankind Time seems to have no
power of diminishing.

CHAPTER X.
A FINAL PICTURE.

ONE afternoon I stood by the tomb of Napoleon
in the Invalides in Paris, and I can never forget
the strange, weird, indescribable feeling which
came over me as I looked down amid the sur-
rounding silence on the mass of brown-red marble
which enclosed his remains. What brings so
strong a sense of the emptiness and transitoriness
of life as standing face to face with the unbreak-
able stillness of death — especially when the ashes,
laid low and still, created such wild and cyclonic
tumult in their living day as those of Napoleon ?
In the cold and majestic isolation of his tomb —
far from the side of Josephine, who lies in quiet
and gentle rest ; far from that other consort who
never really loved him — far from the Countess
Walewska — one of the most pathetic and touching
figures in his strange and fierce life ; far from the
poor boy over whose cradle he more than once
was seen to be in mournful forecast of his joyless
destiny ; above all, far from those wild shouts and
hurrahs of mighty armies which found in his
word and eye that inspiration to meet and defeat
numbers, dangers, and death — alone he lies in
death as he lived in life. The whole scene struck

406 Napoleon.

me as significant, eloquent, almost a revelation,
and an appeal by dead Napoleon to that recogni-
tion from history which history has been so ready
to give him.

i.

WATERLOO.

NEXT to this scene, the most impressive picture I
have ever been enabled to form in my mind of Na-
poleon's personality, was from a story of Kielland,
the great Norwegian writer. In his " Tales of Two
Countries,"* there is a description of Napoleon
at the battle of Waterloo. I omit nearly all the
setting, for it is irrelevant to my purpose. Suffice
it to say that a young man named Cousin Hans
desires to become acquainted with a pretty young
woman, and that the only way he can contrive to
do so is to make himself the victim of the man he
supposes to be her father, a retired captain, who has
bored more than one generation by his accounts
of the battle of Waterloo. Cousin Hans places
himself in the way of the captain, and to attract
the old soldier's interest, makes believe that he is
studying military manoeuvres by drawing strokes
and angles in the sands. This is what follows :

" The whole esplanade was quiet and deserted.
Cousin Hans could hear the captain's firm steps
approaching; they came right up to him and
stopped. Hans did not look up ; the captain

* " Tales of Two Countries." From the Norwegian of
Alexander L. Kielland. Translated by William Archer.
(London : Osgood, Mcllvaine.)

A Final Picture. 407

advanced two more paces and coughed. Hans
drew a long and profoundly significant stroke
with his stick, and then the old fellow could
contain himself no longer. ' Aha, young gentle-
man/ he said, in a friendly tone, taking off his
hat, ' are you making a plan of our fortifications ? *
Cousin Hans assumed the look of one who is
awakened from deep contemplation, and bowing
politely, he answered with some embarrassment :
' No, it's only a sort of habit I have of trying to
take my bearings wherever I may be.' ' An ex-
cellent habit, a most excellent habit,' the cap-
tain exclaimed with warmth. ' It strengthens
the memory/ Cousin Hans remarked modestly.
( Certainly, certainly, sir/ answered the captain,
who was beginning to be much pleased by this
modest young man. ' Especially in situations of
any complexity/ continued the modest young
man, rubbing out his strokes with his foot. ' Just
what I was going to say ! ' exclaimed the captain,
delighted. e And, as you may well believe, draw-
ings and plans are especially indispensable in
military science. Look at a battle-field, for ex-
ample.' ' Ah, battles are altogether too intricate
for me/ Cousin Hans interrupted, with a smile of
humility. ' Don't say that, sir ! ' answered the
kindly old man. ' When once you have a bird's-
eye view of the ground and of the positions of the
armies, even a tolerably complicated battle can
be made quite comprehensible. This sand, now,
that we have before us here, could very well be

408 Napoleon.

made to give us an idea in miniature of, for
example, the battle of Waterloo. ... Be so good
as to take a seat on the bench here,' continued the
captain, whose heart was rejoiced at the thought
of so intelligent a hearer, ' and I shall try to give
you in short outline a picture of that momentous
and remarkable — if it interests you ? ' ' Many
thanks, sir/ answered Cousin Hans ; ' nothing
could interest me more.' "

THE BATTLE.

WATERLOO is an old story ; but I must give it, as
our poor good-natured captain did, in order to bring
out the great passage to which I have alluded :

"The captain took up a position in a corner
of the ramparts, a few paces from the bench,
whence he could point all around him with a stick.
Cousin Hans followed what he said closely, and
took all possible trouble to ingratiate himself
with his future father-in-law. ' We will suppose,
then, that I am standing here, at the farm of
Belle-Alliance, where the Emperor has his head-
quarters ; and to the north — fourteen miles from
Waterloo — we have Brussels, that is to say, just
about at the corner of the gymnastic school. The
road there along the rampart is the highway
leading to Brussels, and here ' (the captain rushed
over the plain of Waterloo), ' here in the grass we
have the Forest of Soignies. On the highway to
Brussels, and in front of the forest, the English

A Final Picture. 409

are stationed — you must imagine the northern
part of the battle-field somewhat higher than it is
here. On Wellington's left wing, that is to say,,
to the eastward — here in the grass — we have the
Chateau of Hougoumont ; that must be marked/
said the captain, looking about him. The service-
able Cousin Hans at once found a stick, which
was fixed in the ground at this important point.
' Excellent ! ' cried the captain, who saw that he
had found an interested and imaginative listener.
' You see it's from this side that we have to expect
the Prussians/ Cousin Hans noticed that the
captain picked up a stone and placed it in the
grass with an air of mystery. ( Here, at Hougou-
mont,' the old man continued, ' the battle began.
It was Jerome who made the first attack. He
took the wood ; but the chateau held out,
garrisoned by Wellington's best troops. In the
meantime Napoleon, here at Belle-Alliance, was
on the point of giving Marshal Ney orders to
commence the main attack upon Wellington's
centre, when he observed a column of troops
approaching from the east, behind the bench, over
there by the tree.' Cousin Hans looked round,,
and began to feel uneasy : could Blucher be here
already ? ' Blu — Blu ' he murmured ten-
tatively. ' It was Bulow,' the captain fortunately
went on, 'who approached with thirty thousand
Prussians. Napoleon made his arrangements
hastily to meet this new enemy, never doubting
that Grouchy, at any rate, was following close oa

4io Napoleon.

the Prussians' heels. You see, the Emperor had
on the previous day detached Marshal Grouchy
with the whole right wing of the army, about fifty
thousand men, to hold Blucher and Bulow in
check. But Grouchy — but of course all this is
familiar to you/ the captain broke off. Cousin
Hans nodded reassuringly. 'Ney accordingly
began the attack with his usual intrepidity. But
the English cavalry hurled themselves upon the
Frenchmen, broke their ranks, and forced them
back with the loss of two eagles and several
cannons. Milhaud rushes to the rescue with his
cuirassiers, and the Emperor himself, seeing the
danger, puts spurs into his horse and gallops down
the incline of Belle- Alliance.' Away rushed the
captain, prancing like a horse in his eagerness to
show how the Emperor rode through thick and
thin, rallied Ney's troops, and sent them forward
to a fresh attack."

in.

NAPOLEON.

AND now comes the great passage of the sketch :

" Whether it was that there lurked a bit of the
poet in Cousin Hans, or that the captain's repre-
sentation was really very vivid, or that — and this
is probably the true explanation — he was in love
with the captain's daughter, certain it is that
Cousin Hans was quite carried away by the situa-
tion. He no longer saw a queer old captain
prancing sideways; he saw, through the cloud of
smoke, the Emperor himself, on his white horse

A Final Picture. 411

with the black eyes, as we knew it from the en-
gravings. He tore away over hedge and ditch,
over meadow and garden, his staff with difficulty
keeping up with him. Cool and calm, he sat
firmly in his saddle, with his half-buttoned great-
coat, his white breeches, and his little hat cross-
wise on his head. His face expressed neither
weariness nor anxiety; smooth and pale as
marble, it gave to the whole figure in the simple
uniform on the white horse, an exalted, almost
a spectral aspect. Thus he swept on his course,
this sanguinary little monster, who in three days
had fought three battles. All hastened to clear
the way for him, flying peasants, troops in reserve
or advancing — ay, even the wounded and dying
dragged themselves aside, and looked up at him
with a mixture of terror and admiration as he tore
past them like a cold thunderbolt. Scarcely had
he shown himself among the soldiers before they
all fell into order as though by magic, and a
moment afterwards the undaunted Ney could once
more vault into the saddle to renew the attack.
And this time he bore down the English, and
established himself in the farmhouse of La Haye-
Sainte. Napoleon is once more at Belle- Alliance.
'And now here comes Bulow from the east — under
the bench here, you see — and the Emperor sends
General Mouton to meet him. At half-past four
— the battle had begun at one o'clock — Wellington
attempts to drive Ney out of La Haye-Sainte.
And Ney, who now saw that everything de-

412 Napoleon.

pended on obtaining possession of the ground in
front of the wood — the sand here by the border of
the grass/ the captain threw his glove over to the
spot indicated — ' Ney, you see, calls up the
reserve brigade of Milhaud's cuirassiers, and
hurls himself at the enemy. Presently his men
were seen upon the heights, and already the
people around the Emperor were shouting
' Victoire ! ; ' It is an hour too late/ answered
Napoleon. As he now saw that the Marshal in
his new position was suffering much from the
enemy's fire, he determined to go to his assis-
tance, and, at the same time, to try to crush
Wellington at one blow. He chose, for the
execution of this plan, Kellermann's famous
dragoons and the heavy cavalry of the guard.
Now comes one of the crucial moments of the
fight. You must come out here upon the battle-
field ! ' Cousin Hans at once arose from the
bench, and took the position the captain pointed
out to him. ' Now you are Wellington ! ' Cousin
Hans drew himself up. ' You are standing there
on the plain with the greater part of the English
infantry. Here comes the whole of the French
cavalry rushing down upon you. Milhaud has
joined Kellermann ; they form an illimitable
multitude of horses, breastplates, plumes, and
shining weapons. Surround yourself with a
square ! ' Cousin Hans stood for a moment
bewildered; but presently he understood the
captain's meaning. He hastily drew a square

A Final Picture. 413

of deep strokes around him on the sand. ' Right ! '
cried the captain, beaming. 'Now the French-
men cut into the square; the ranks break, but
join again ; the cavalry wheels away and gathers
for a fresh attack. Wellington has every moment
to surround himself with a new square. The
French cavalry fight like lions ; the proud
memories of the Emperor's campaigns fill them
with that confidence of victory which made his
armies invincible. They fight for victory, for
glory, for the French eagles, and for the little
cold man who, they know, stands on the height
behind them, whose eye follows every single
man, who sees all and forgets nothing ; but to-
day they have an enemy who is not easy to
deal with. They stand where they stand, these
Englishmen, and if they are forced to step back-
wards, they regain their position the next moment.
They have no eagles and no Emperor, and when
they fight they think neither of military glory
nor of revenge; but they think of home. The
thought of never seeing again the oak-trees of
Old England is the most melancholy an English-
man knows. Ah, no, there is one which is still
worse — that of coming home dishonoured. And
when they think that the proud fleet, which they
know is lying to the northward waiting for them,
would deny them the honour of a salute, and
that Old England would not recognise her sons,
then they grip their muskets tighter, they forget
their wounds and their flowing blood ; silent

414 Napoleon.

and grim, they clench their teeth, and hold their
post and die like men.' Twenty times were the
squares broken and reformed, and twelve thousand
brave Englishmen fell. Cousin Hans could under-
stand how Wellington wept when he said, ' Night
or Blucher ! ' "

IV.
NAPOLEON IN RETREAT.

AND quite as vivid is the remainder of the picture
— the picture of Napoleon in retreat :

" The captain had in the meantime left Belle-
Alliance, and was spying around in the grass
behind the bench, while he continued his ex-
position, which grew more and more vivid :
'Wellington was now in reality beaten, and a
total defeat was inevitable,' cried the captain
in a sombre voice, 'when this fellow appeared
on the scene ! ' And as he said this, he kicked
the stone which Cousin Hans had seen him
concealing, so that it rolled in upon the field
of battle. ' Now or never,' thought Cousin
Hans. ' Blucher ! ' he cried. ' Exactly ! ' answered
the captain, 'it's the old werewolf Blucher, who
comes marching upon the field with his Prussians.'
So Grouchy never came ; there was Napoleon,
deprived of his whole right wing, and facing 150,000
men. But with never-failing coolness he gives
his orders for a great change of front. But it
was too late, and the odds were too vast.
Wellington, who by Blucher's arrival was en-
abled to bring his reserve into play, now ordered

A Final Picture. 415

his whole army to advance. And yet once
more the Allies were forced to pause for a
moment by a furious charge led by Ney — the
lion of the day. ( Do you see him there ? '
cried the captain, his eyes flashing. And Cousin
Hans saw him, the romantic hero, Duke of El-
chingen, Prince of the Moskowa, son of a cooper
in Saarlouis, Marshal and Peer of France. He
saw him rush onward at the head of his battalions
— five horses had been shot under him — with his
sword in his hand, his uniform torn to shreds,
hatless, and with the blood streaming down his
face. And the battalions rallied and swept ahead ;
they followed their Prince of the Moskowa,
their Saviour at the Beresina, into the hopeless
struggle for the Emperor and for France. Little
did they dream that, six months later, the King
of France would have their dear Prince shot as
a traitor to his country in the gardens of the
Luxembourg. There he rushed around, rallying
and directing his troops, until there was nothing
more for the general to do ; then he plied his
sword like a common soldier until all was over,
and he was carried away in the rout. For
the French army fled. The Emperor threw
himself into the throng ; but the terrible hubbub
drowned his voice, and in the twilight no one
knew the little man on the white horse. Then
he took his stand in a little square of his Old
Guard, which still held out upon the plain ; he
would fain have ended his life on his last

Napoleon.

battle-field. But his generals flocked around
him, and the old grenadiers shouted, * Withdraw,
sire ! Death will not have you.' They did
not know that it was because the Emperor had
forfeited his right to die as a French soldier.
They led him half-resisting from the field ; and,
unknown in his own army, he rode away into
the darkness of the night, having lost everything.
*So ended the battle of Waterloo,' said the
captain, as he seated himself on the bench and
arranged his neckcloth."

I shall be in despair, and forfeit all my poor
claims to being a judge of literature, if my readers
do not read this splendid narrative with the same
breathless interest as I did; and if that awful
figure of " the little man on the white horse " does
not haunt their imaginations, as it did mine, for
many an hour after they have read it. I
thought the description of Waterloo in Stendhal's
" Chartreuse de Parme '" was the last and greatest
word that literature had to speak on that historic
day ; but really Kielland is finer, to my mind, than
even Stendhal. At all events, I have never read
anything which brought home to my imagination
with the same vividness the terrible central figure of
that day ; and all the godlike genius and demoniac
power, all the horror and glory and despair which
-were embodied in his person in the battle-field.

THE END.

f. M. EVANS AND CO., LIMITED, PRINTERS, CRYSTAL PALACE, S.E.

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OVERDUE.

MAN 17 1934

SEP a

-.9 A

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75074
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848219

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY