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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.