Part 23

Three or four hundred drivers of _fiacres_ subscribed a louis or twelve francs each to give a dinner to the First Consul’s coachman, who had become the hero of the day and the boast of his profession. During the feast, one of the guests drinking to the health of the First Consul’s coachman, observed that he knew who had played him the trick, alluding to the explosion of the machine. He was immediately arrested, and it appeared that, on the very night, or the night preceding the explosion, he had drawn up his _fiacre_ beside a gate, whence had issued the little cart that had done all the mischief. The police proceeded to the place, and it was found to be a coach-yard, where all kinds of vehicles were lent on hire. The keepers of the yard did not deny the fact; they pointed out the stall in which the cart stood; it still presented traces of gunpowder. The proprietors declared that they were given to understand the cart had been hired by some Bretons who were concerned in smuggling. The man who had sold the horse, together with every individual who had participated in the affair, were easily traced out; and it was proved that the plot had been formed by the Chouan Royalists. Some active and intelligent men were despatched to their head-quarters in Morbihan. They took no pains to conceal their share in the transaction, and only regretted that it had not succeeded. Some of them were apprehended and brought to punishment. It is said that the chief conspirator afterwards turned Trappist, and sought to expiate his crime by religious austerities.

CONSPIRACY OF GEORGES, PICHEGRU, &C.—THE DUKE D’ENGHIEN.—THE SLAVE TOBY.—CHARACTERISTIC REFLECTIONS OF NAPOLEON.

29th—30th. I find in this part of my manuscript some important

## particulars respecting the conspiracy of Georges, Pichegru, Moreau, and

the trial of the Duke d’Enghien; but, as these subjects recur repeatedly in the course of my Journal, I transfer to another part what occurred here, in order to bring all my information on the above points at once under the eye of the reader.

Mr. Balcombe’s little garden, in which we so often walked, was superintended by an old negro. The first time we saw him, the Emperor, according to his usual custom, desired me to put some questions to him respecting his history; and his answers strongly excited our interest. He was a Malay Indian, and had been forced from his home by the crew of an English vessel, and sold at St. Helena, where he had continued ever since in slavery. His story bore every mark of truth. His countenance had a frank and benevolent expression; his eyes were animated and sparkling. In short his appearance was by no means abject; but, on the contrary, truly prepossessing.

The history of the poor fellow’s misfortunes filled us with, indignation; and a few days after, the Emperor expressed a wish to purchase him and send him back to his own country. He mentioned the subject to the Admiral. The latter, at first, defended his countrymen, and declared that old Toby (which was the name of the unfortunate slave) must be an impostor; for the thing was impossible. He, however, enquired into the matter, and, finding that the story was but too true, he

## participated in the indignation which we expressed, and promised to

exert his best endeavours for the fulfilment of our design. When we left Briars for Longwood, poor Toby, sharing the common fate of all earthly things, was soon forgotten; I know not what became of him.

When we were in the garden, the Emperor generally stopped near Toby’s hut, and made me question him respecting his country, the days of his youth, his family, his present situation, &c.: one would have supposed that he wished to study the feelings of the old slave. By the Emperor’s desire, I invariably closed the conversation by giving him a Napoleon.

Toby was very much attached to us; our presence always seemed to fill him with joy. When we entered the garden, he immediately suspended his work, and, resting on his spade, gazed on us with an air of satisfaction. He understood not a word of the conversation that passed between the Emperor and myself; but he always seemed to anticipate, with a smile, the first words I translated to him. He called the Emperor the _Good Gentleman_: this was the only name he ever applied to him, and he knew him by no other.

I have mentioned the above particulars, because our meetings with Toby were always followed by novel, spirited, and characteristic reflections on the part of the Emperor. The versatility of his mind is well known. Whenever he adverted to the poor slave’s misfortunes, he always took a new view of the subject. I shall content myself with noting down the following remarks:—

“Poor Toby,” said he one day, “has been torn from his family, from his native land, and sold to slavery: could any thing be more miserable to himself, or more criminal in others! If this crime be the act of the English captain alone, he is doubtless one of the vilest of men; but if it be that of the whole of the crew, it may have been committed by men, perhaps, not so base as might be imagined; for vice is always individual, and scarcely ever collective. Joseph’s brethren could not bring themselves to slay him; while Judas, a cool, hypocritical, calculating villain, betrayed his Master. A philosopher has affirmed that men are born wicked: it would be both difficult and idle to attempt to discover whether the assertion be true. This, at least, is certain, that the great mass of society is not wicked; for if the majority were determined to be criminal and to violate the laws, who would have the power to restrain or prevent them? This is the triumph of civilization; for this happy result springs from its bosom, and arises out of its nature. Sentiments are for the most part traditionary; we feel them because they were felt by those who preceded us: thus we must look to the development of human reason and of the faculties of mankind for the only key to social order, the only secret of the legislator. It is only those who wish to deceive the people and rule them for their own personal advantage that would desire to keep them in ignorance; for the more they are enlightened, the more will they feel convinced of the utility of laws, and of the necessity of defending them; and the more steady, happy, and prosperous will society become. If, however, knowledge should ever be dangerous in the multitude, it can only be when the Government, in opposition to the interests of the people, drives them into an unnatural situation, or dooms the lower classes to perish for want. In such a case, knowledge would inspire them with spirit to defend themselves, or to become criminal.

“My code alone, from its simplicity, has been more beneficial to France than the whole mass of laws which preceded it. My schools and my system of mutual instruction are preparing generations yet unknown. Thus, during my reign, crimes were rapidly diminishing; while, on the contrary, with our neighbours in England, they have been increasing to a frightful degree. This alone is sufficient to enable any one to form a decisive judgment of the respective governments![26]

Footnote 26:

This fact is corroborated by authentic documents, which exhibit proofs more positive than might be expected. (See _Situation de l’ Angleterre, par M. de Montvéran_.)

FRANCE ENGLAND

/—————- ———— /—————- ————

Inhabitants. Condemned to Years. Inhabitants. Condemned to death. death.

34,000,000 882 {1801} 16,000,000 3,400

42,000,000 392 {1811} 17,000,000 6,400

It is obvious from this statement, that in the year 1801, in France, twenty-six out of a million of inhabitants were condemned to death; and that in 1811, ten years after, the number of condemned had diminished two-thirds, leaving the proportion of only nine to a million.

In England, on the contrary, where, in 1801, the number of criminals condemned to death was 212 out of a million of inhabitants, the amount increased by more than one half; there being in 1811, 376 out of a million.

It is worthy of observation that the condemnations in England, compared with those in France, were as 376 to 9, or as 42 to 1.

The report of the state of mendicity in France, compared with that of the parish poor in England, also presents a prodigious difference: the French list, in 1812, exhibiting only 30,000 individuals out of 43 millions of inhabitants; while in England, in the same year, a fourth of the population, or 4,250,000 poor, were thrown upon the parishes.—(_Montvéran_.)

“Look at the United States, where, without any apparent force or effort, every thing goes on prosperously; every one is happy and contented: and this is because the public wishes and interests are in fact the ruling power. Place the same government at variance with the will and interests of its inhabitants, and you would soon see what disturbance, trouble, and confusion, and above all, what an increase of crimes, would ensue.

“When I acquired the supreme direction of affairs, it was wished that I might become a Washington. Words cost nothing; and no doubt those who were so ready to express the wish did so without any knowledge of times, places, persons, or things. Had I been in America, I would willingly have been a Washington, and I should have had little merit in so being; for I do not see how I could reasonably have acted otherwise. But had Washington been in France, exposed to discord within, and invasion from without, I would have defied him to have been what he was in America; at least, he would have been a fool to attempt it, and would only have prolonged the existence of evil. For my own part, I could only have been a _Crowned Washington_. It was only in a congress of kings, in the midst of kings, yielding or subdued, that I could become so. Then and there alone, I could successfully display Washington’s moderation, disinterestedness, and wisdom. I could not reasonably attain to this but by means of the _universal Dictatorship_. To this I aspired; can that be thought a crime? Can it be believed that to resign this authority would have been beyond the power of human nature? Sylla, glutted with crimes, dared to abdicate, pursued by public execration! What motive could have checked me, who would have been followed only by blessings?——But it remained for me to conquer at Moscow!—How many will hereafter regret my disasters and my fall!—But to require prematurely of me that sacrifice, for which the time had not arrived, was a vulgar absurdity; and for me to have proclaimed or promised it, would have been taken for hypocrisy and quackery: that was not my way.——I repeat, it remained for me to conquer at Moscow!——”

On another occasion, pausing before Toby, he said:—“What, after all, is this poor human machine? There is not one whose exterior form is like another, or whose internal organisation resembles the rest! And it is by disregarding this truth that we are led to the commission of so many errors! Had Toby been a Brutus, he would have put himself to death: if an Æsop, he would now, perhaps, have been the Governor’s adviser; if an ardent and zealous Christian, he would have borne his chains in the sight of God, and blessed them. As for poor Toby, he endures his misfortunes very quietly; he stoops to his work, and spends his days in innocent tranquillity.” Then, after looking at him for a few moments in silence, he turned away and said: “Certainly it is a great step from poor Toby to a King Richard!——And yet,” continued he, as he walked along, “the crime is not the less atrocious; for this man, after all, had his family, his happiness, and his liberty; and it was a horrible act of cruelty to bring him here to languish in the fetters of slavery,” Then, suddenly stopping short, he added:—“But I read in your eyes that you think he is not the only example of the sort at St. Helena!” And whether he felt offended at being placed on a parallel with Toby, whether he thought it necessary to raise my spirits, or whatever else might be his reason, he went on with dignity and animation: “My dear Las Cases, there is not the least resemblance here: if the outrage is of a higher class, the victims also possess very different resources. We have not been exposed to corporeal sufferings; or if that had been attempted, we have souls to disappoint our tyrants! Our situation may even have its charms! The eyes of the universe are fixed upon us! We are martyrs in an immortal cause! Millions of human beings are weeping for us: our country sighs, and glory mourns our fate! We here struggle against the oppression of the gods, and the prayers of nations are for us!”—After a pause of a few seconds, he continued:—“Besides, this is not the source of my real sufferings! If I considered only myself, perhaps I should have reason to rejoice! Misfortunes are not without their heroism and their glory! Adversity was wanting to my career! Had I died on the throne, enveloped in the dense atmosphere of my power, I should to many have remained a problem; but now misfortune will enable all to judge of me without disguise.“

ORIGIN OF THE CORPS OF GUIDES.—ANOTHER DANGER INCURRED BY NAPOLEON.—THE GERMAN OFFICER.

December 1st—3rd. Many incidents fill up this interval: some I reject as unnecessary, some it is proper I should withhold. I here note down only a few anecdotes of the General-in-chief of the Army of Italy.

After the passage of the Mincio, Napoleon, having concerted all his plans, and pursued the enemy in every direction, entered a castle on the left bank of the river. He was troubled with the head-ache, and he used a foot-bath. A large detachment of the enemy, in great confusion, arrived, having ascended the river as far as the castle. Napoleon had only a few persons with him; the sentinel on duty at the gate had just time to close it, exclaiming, “To arms!” and the General of the Army of Italy, in the hour of victory, was compelled to escape through the back gates of the garden, with but one boot on. Had he been made prisoner, before his reputation was established, the acts of genius which had marked the commencement of his career would, perhaps, by the common run of mankind, have been considered merely as fortunate and blameable enterprises. The danger which the French General had just escaped (a circumstance which, through his method of operations, was likely often to recur) was the origin of the guides appointed to guard his person. These guides have since been introduced in other armies.

In the same campaign, Napoleon incurred another imminent risk:—Wurmser, who had been compelled to throw himself into Mantua, and who was debouching suddenly on an open plain, learned from an old woman, that, only a few moments before his arrival, the French General, with but a few followers, had stopped at her door, and that he had fled within sight of the Austrians. Wurmser immediately despatched parties of cavalry in every direction, calculating with certainty on the precious capture. “But,” said the Emperor, “I must do him this justice, he gave

## particular orders that I should not be killed or harmed in any way.”

Fortunately for the young General, his happy star and the swiftness of his horse preserved him.

The new system of military operations practised by Napoleon disconcerted every one. The campaign was scarcely opened, when Lombardy was inundated with troops in every direction, and the French approached Mantua pell-mell with the enemy. The General-in-chief, when in the neighbourhood of Pizzighitone, met a great fat German Captain or Colonel, who had been made prisoner. Napoleon took a fancy to question him, without being known, and enquired how affairs were going on. “Very badly,” replied the officer; “I know not how it will end; but no one seems to understand what is doing; we have been sent to fight a young blockhead, who attacks you on the right and the left, in front and in rear, so that there is no knowing how to proceed. This mode of carrying on war is intolerable; and for my part, I am very glad to have done with it....”

Napoleon used to relate that, after one of his great actions in Italy, he passed over the field of battle with two or three other persons, before the dead bodies had been interred. “In the deep silence of a beautiful moonlight night,” said the Emperor, “a dog, leaping suddenly from beneath the clothes of his dead master, rushed upon us, and then immediately returned to his hiding-place, howling piteously. He alternately licked his master’s face, and again flew at us; thus, at once soliciting aid and seeking revenge. Whether owing to my own

## particular turn of mind at the moment,” continued the Emperor, “the

time, the place, or the action itself, I know not; but certainly no incident on any field of battle ever produced so deep an impression on me. I involuntarily stopped to contemplate the scene. This man, thought I, perhaps has friends in the camp or in his company; and here he lies forsaken by all except his dog! What a lesson Nature here presents through the medium of an animal! What a strange being is man! and how mysterious are his impressions; I had, without emotion, ordered battles which were to decide the fate of the army; I had beheld, with tearless eyes, the execution of those operations, by which numbers of my countrymen were sacrificed; and here my feelings were roused by the mournful howling of a dog! Certainly at that moment I should have been easily moved by a suppliant enemy; I could very well imagine Achilles yielding up the body of Hector at the sight of Priam’s tears.”

WAR.—PRINCIPLES.—APPLICATION.—OPINIONS ON SEVERAL GENERALS.

4th—5th. My eyes had become so bad that I was obliged to suspend my occupation: I had nearly lost my sight in the Campaign in Italy.

For some time past a sensible change had taken place in the weather. We knew nothing about the order of the seasons. As the sun passed twice over our heads in the course of the last year, we said we ought, at least, to have two summers. Every thing was totally different from what we had been accustomed to; and, to complete our embarrassments, we were obliged, being now in the southern hemisphere, to make all our calculations in a manner quite the reverse of that which we had practised in Europe. It rained frequently, the air was very damp, and it grew colder than before. The Emperor could no longer go out in the evening; he was continually catching cold and did not sleep well. He was obliged to give up taking his meals beneath the tent, and he had them served up in his own chamber. Here he found himself better; but he could not stir from his seat.

Our conversation continued after the dinner was removed from table. To-day the Emperor attacked General Gourgaud on the elements and first exercises of artillery. The General had recently belonged to that department of the service, and all his professional science was quite fresh. The discussion was very curious, and was maintained with great spirit. Napoleon never proved himself to be the weaker party: one might have been tempted to believe that he had just passed his examination at the academy.

The conversation then turned on war and great commanders. “The fate of a battle,” observed the Emperor, “is the result of a moment—of a thought: the hostile forces advance with various combinations, they attack each other and fight for a certain time; the critical moment arrives, a mental flash decides, and the least reserve accomplishes the object.” He spoke of Lützen, Bautzen, &c.; and afterwards, alluding to Waterloo, he said, that had he followed up the idea of turning the enemy’s right, he should easily have succeeded; he, however, preferred piercing the centre, and separating the two armies. But all was fatal in that engagement; it even assumed the appearance of absurdity: nevertheless, he ought to have gained the victory. Never had any of his battles presented less doubt to his mind; nor could he now account for what had happened. Grouchy, he said, had lost himself; Ney appeared bewildered, and his countenance at once expressed the remorse he felt for the transactions of Fontainebleau and of Lons-le-Saunier; d’Erlon was useless; in short, the generals were no longer themselves. If, in the evening, he had been aware of Grouchy’s position, and could have thrown himself upon it, he might, in the morning, with the help of that fine reserve, have repaired his ill success, and perhaps, even have destroyed the allied forces by one of those miracles, those turns of Fortune, which were familiar to him, and which would have surprised no one. But he knew nothing of Grouchy; and besides, it was not easy to act with decision amongst the wrecks of the army. It would be difficult to imagine the condition of the French army on that disastrous night; it was a torrent dislodged from its bed, sweeping away every thing in its course.

Turning to another subject, he said that the dangers incurred by the military commanders of antiquity were not to be compared with those which attend the generals of modern times. There is, he observed, no position in which a general may not now be reached by artillery; but anciently a general ran no risk, except when he himself charged, which Cæsar did only twice or thrice.

“We rarely,” said he, “find, combined together, all the qualities necessary to constitute a great general. The object most desirable is that a man’s judgment should be in equilibrium with his personal courage; that raises him at once above the common level.” This is what the Emperor termed being _well squared_, both by the base and perpendicular.

“If,” continued he, “courage be a general’s predominating quality, he will rashly embark in enterprises above his conceptions; and, on the other hand, he will not venture to carry his ideas into effect, if his character or courage be inferior to his judgment.”

He then cited the example of the Viceroy, whose sole merit consisted in this equilibrium of character, which, however, sufficed to render him a very distinguished man.