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 NAPOLEON 
 
 AN EXPLANATION OF HIS THEORIES OF 
 GOVERNMENT; AN AVOWAL OF 
 THE MOTIVES THAT ACTU- 
 ATED HIS PUBLIC LIFE 
 
 INTRODUCTION BY 
 
 ALVA ADAMS 
 
 1907 
 
 THE FRANKLIN PRESS COMPANY 
 PUEBLO, COLORADO
 
 INTRODUCTORY 
 
 In 1816 copies of a manuscript of startling 
 character were delivered in a mysterious manner 
 to a publisher in Paris, and to John Murray, the 
 noted London bookmaker. This manuscript was 
 written in the first person and purports to be a re- 
 view of Napoleon's career by Napoleon. It is a 
 defense of his acts as soldier and Emperor, a con- 
 fession of his mistakes, ah exposition of his 
 theories of government, an avowal of the motives 
 that actuated his public life. It is an explanation 
 and not an apology. He desired that his words 
 should meet the eyes of the world, as stated in the 
 line of preface, "I have at heart to appear as I 
 really was, both in the eyes of my son and in those 
 of posterity." Fear of confiscation and destruc- 
 tion, should it fall into the hands of Lord Lowe, or 
 the English Ministry, compelled secrecy in writing 
 and transmitting. 
 
 The legend is that a trusted aide brought the 
 manuscript from St. Helena in triplicate, one for 
 England, one for France and one for Joseph 
 Bonaparte at Bordentown, New Jersey. The free 
 criticism by the author, of living actors in the 
 great Napoleonic drama caused the arrest and im- 
 prisonment of the French publisher. All copies
 
 proven that he suggested their form and matter 
 and corrected them with his own hand. Though 
 dead to the world, the dreams that came to him at 
 Elba troubled his sleep at St. Helena. Across the 
 wide sea he listened for the cry that might call his 
 son or himself to the throne of France. He would 
 remove the prejudice of English hatred. He knew 
 the misrepresentation and calumny that falls 
 upon the name of the defeated and he used letters, 
 books, pamphlets and personal agents to present 
 his career to the world in his light. 
 
 Whether the reader will accept my confidence 
 in the authenticity of this manuscript, he must ad- 
 mit that it is too brilliant a piece of literature to 
 pass into oblivion and he will thank me for re- 
 publishing it. How rare it may be I am not ad- 
 vised. I have never seen but the copy I own. 
 There are, no doubt, many others but it is not 
 common and I reprint it for the friends who are in- 
 terested in Napoleon, and every reader of books 
 or of men does take an interest in this most spec- 
 tacular and dominant figure. History records no 
 man with such diversified talents. In energy and 
 intellect almost superhuman, his egotism was 
 superb. With sublime audacity he declared that 
 "the spot where I stand is the most important on 
 the globe. ' ' He believed himself the greatest man 
 and that faith went far to make him so. In an 
 able man self-confidence is better than a diploma.
 
 Consistency was not in the vocabulary of Na- 
 poleon ; he ruled others, not himself. He cherished 
 the sophistry that law was for the mass, not for 
 genius, and being a genius he was exempt from 
 the ordinances of God or man. So Olympian, so 
 magnificent were his schemes, that the allies called 
 him crazy, his friends inspired. He was action in- 
 carnate ; in his battles, plan and execution were al- 
 most simultaneous ; his blows fell before the enemy 
 could fathom his intentions. His campaign meth- 
 ods were not classic ; he drew new plans upon the 
 trestle-board of war. He knew the golden value of 
 an hour. Time and system were his weapons. 
 With them he won his battles. When he forgot or 
 neglected these disaster came. The tireless, 
 sleepless activity of his earlier victories would 
 have made Waterloo the type of victory, not as 
 now of defeat. His few years were crowded with 
 glory and crime, achievement and catastrophe. 
 Nations became his pawns; he scattered crowns 
 with profligate hand; he put new kings upon old 
 thrones. No king slept while Napoleon was free. 
 He swept through two decades of history, his 
 pathway a political, moral and intellectual con- 
 flagration. He shattered the "divine right of 
 kings" superstition, made a jest of royal legit- 
 imacy and founded a dynasty upon the sword. 
 Brief as was his reign it was long enough to 
 break up the kingly stagnation and tyranny of 
 centuries. With cyclonic intensity he swept away
 
 the petrified barriers to progress and achieved 
 more for the race than the 800 years of the Haps- 
 burgs or the 600 years of Bourbon rule. The re- 
 sult of his career gives color to the title, "The 
 greatest democrat," bestowed by Emerson upon 
 Napoleon. Self dominated his life, yet though 
 imperialist and king that he was, his blows were 
 against the enemies of the people. With the ham- 
 mer of a despot he broke up the feudalism of a 
 thousand years and gave liberty a chance to 
 breathe and to live. After the peace of Amiens 
 certainly after the compact at Tilsit was the 
 hour for patriotic reflection. It was the hour to 
 turn from war to peace. Instead unrest, selfish 
 ambition carried him to Moscow and to Elba. In- 
 flated with his own omnipotence there was no haz- 
 ard he would not risk. He must have no equals. 
 He would divide the world with no one. Had he 
 possessed the strain of unselfish devotion to coun- 
 try that characterized Washington, the genera- 
 tions would have paid homage to his greatness. 
 The world's judgment concedes to Napoleon 
 genius, but not character. To him truth was a 
 means, not an end, diplomacy a battle of deceit. 
 Virtue was for his neighbors. Without morals he 
 preached morality, public and private. Lacking 
 personal integrity he exacted the strictest honesty 
 from others. His own home polluted, he legis- 
 lated and plead for the sanctity of the home. Re-
 
 ligion was to him a policy, not a conviction. 
 Neither intolerant nor superstitious, he had no 
 reverence for priests, no fear of God. In his pan- 
 theon there was but one deity himself. The para- 
 dox of the centuries, yet no character in profane 
 history grasps the imagination like Napoleon. 
 
 ALVA ADAMS. 
 Pueblo, Colo., Oct. 1, 1907.
 
 MANUSCRIPT 
 
 TRANSMITTED FROM 
 
 ST. HELENA, 
 
 BY 
 
 AN UNKNOWN CHANNEL 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THIS Work, which is equally distinguished by 
 its spirit and its ingenuity, was given to the Pub- 
 lisher, with an assurance of its being brought from 
 St. Helena, though an air of mystery was affected- 
 ly thrown round the mode of its conveyance. 
 
 Whether it be really written by Buonaparte, or 
 by some confidential friend, is a matter that must 
 be left entirely to conjecture. It bears some resem- 
 blance to his style, more to his manner, and is al- 
 together just what the ostensible Author, or an 
 able apologist under his name, might be expected 
 to say of his opinions, motives, and actions.
 
 MANUSCRIPT, 
 
 &c. 
 
 I do not write commentaries : the events of my 
 reign are sufficiently known, and I am not obliged 
 to feed the curiosity of the public. I give a sketch 
 of those events, because my character and my in- 
 tentions may be strangely disfigured, and I have 
 at heart to appear such as I really was, both in 
 the eyes of my son and in those of posterity. 
 
 This is the object of this tract. I am forced 
 to make use of an indirect channel in publishing it. 
 For if it were to fall into the hands of the English 
 ministry, I know by experience, that it would re- 
 main buried in an office.
 
 My life has been so extraordinary, that the ad- 
 mirers of my power imagined that even my child- 
 hood must have been uncommon. But they are 
 mistaken. There was nothing singular in my early 
 life. I was only an obstinate and inquisitive child. 
 My first education was contemptible, like every 
 thing in Corsica. I learned French easily enough 
 from the soldiers of the garrison, with whom I 
 passed my time. 
 
 I succeeded in what I undertook, because I 
 chose it : my desires were strong, and my character 
 decided. I never hestitated : this gave me the ad- 
 vantage over every body. The will depends indeed 
 on the temper of the individual ; it is not the priv- 
 ilege of every man to be master at home. 
 
 My understanding led me to detest impositions. 
 I always discerned truth at once, and, for that rea- 
 son, I always saw better than others to the bottom 
 of things. The world was to me always in fact, 
 never in right. I scarcely resembled any man. 
 My very nature was always isolated. 
 
 I never discovered that study could be of any 
 use to me ; in fact it did nothing for me but teach 
 me means. Mathematics alone ever availed me. 
 The rest was lost time. I studied, however, from 
 vanity. 
 
 My intellectual faculties, nevertheless, took
 
 their bent without my assistance. They proceed 
 from a great degree of mobility in the fibres of my 
 brain. I thought faster than others, so that I had 
 always time to reflect. And my depth of thought 
 consisted in this. 
 
 My mind was too active to allow me to be 
 amused with the ordinary pursuits of youth. I 
 was not indeed quite ignorant of them; but I 
 sought interest elsewhere. This disposition placed 
 me in a kind of solitude, where I met nothing but 
 my own thoughts. And this kind of existence be- 
 came habitual in every situation. 
 
 I loved to solve problems : I sought them in the 
 mathematics, but I was soon satisfied, for the order 
 of matter is extremely bounded. I then sought 
 them in moral order, and it is the pursuit in which 
 I have best succeeded. This species of search ha-3 
 become habitual : to it I owe the great steps I took 
 in politics and war. 
 
 My birth destined me to the service, and I was 
 therefore sent to the military college. I obtained 
 a lieutenant's commission at the beginning of the 
 revolution. I never received any rank with so 
 much delight as that. The height of my ambition 
 was then confined to wearing one day a bullion 
 epaulette on each shoulder: a colonel of artillery 
 seemed to me the ne plus ultra of human grandeur. 
 
 I was then too young to take any interest in
 
 politics. I was no judge of man in general, neither 
 was I surprised or alarmed at the disorder that 
 then reigned, because I could not compare it with 
 any other period. I accommodated myself to cir- 
 cumstances. I was not yet difficult. 
 
 I was employed in the army of the Alps. It 
 did nothing that an army should do. It was ignor- 
 ant both of war and discipline. I was at a bad 
 school. It is true we had no enemies to fight ; our 
 only duty was to prevent the Piedmontese from 
 passing the Alps, and nothing was so easy. 
 
 Anarchy reigned in our cantonments; the 
 soldiers had no respect for the officers, the officers 
 scarcely obeyed the generals, and these were every 
 day changed or checked by the representatives of 
 the people: the army only acknowledged in these 
 last the idea of power, the strongest hold over the 
 human mind. I then perceived the danger of civil 
 influence in military affairs, and I have always 
 guarded against it. 
 
 It was not talent, but loquacity, which gained 
 credit in the army; all depended on that popular 
 favour which is obtained by vociferation. 
 
 I never had that community of sentiment with 
 the vulgar which produces field eloquence. I 
 never had the talent of moving the people ; so that 
 I played no part at that time in the army; but I 
 had the more time for reflection.
 
 I studied war; not on paper, but in the field. 
 I saw fire for the first time in a slight affair of 
 rifle corps near Mont Genevre. The balls were not 
 thick ; they wounded but few of our people. I felt 
 no kind of emotion ; it was not worth while ; I at- 
 tended to the action. It appeared evident to me 
 that neither side had the least intention of effect- 
 ing any thing by their fire; they merely shot at 
 each other for conscience sake, and because it is 
 customary to do so in war. This want of object 
 vexed me ; resistance put me out of humour ; I ob- 
 served our ground; I took a musket from a 
 wounded man, and prevailed on a good-natured 
 captain, who commanded, to keep up his fire while 
 I should go, with ten or twelve men, to cut off the 
 Piedmontese. 
 
 It appeared to me to be very easy to gain a 
 height which commanded their position, by cross- 
 ing a grove of fir trees, on which our left was sus- 
 tained. Our captain rallied; the company gained 
 ground; they drove the enemy towards us; and, 
 as soon as he began to break up, I brought for- 
 ward my men. Our fire hampered his retreat ; we 
 killed a few, and took twenty prisoners; the rest 
 made their escape. 
 
 I give an account of my first trial of arms, not 
 because it gave me the rank of captain, but because 
 it initiated me into the secrets of war. I perceived
 
 that it was easier than is commonly believed to 
 beat an enemy, and that the great art lies in not 
 wavering during action, and above all in not mak- 
 ing any but decisive movements, because it is thus 
 that the soldier is carried along. 
 
 I had gained my spurs ; I fancied I had exper- 
 ience and from that time I felt a decided taste for 
 a profession in which I succeeded so well. I 
 thought of nothing else, and I set about solving all 
 the problems which a field of battle can offer. I 
 would fain have studied war in books, but I pos- 
 sessed none. I endeavoured to recollect the small 
 portion of history that I had read, and I com- 
 pared these accounts with the facts before my 
 eyes. I thus formed a theory concerning war 
 which time has developed, but never disproved. 
 
 I led this insignificant life till the siege of Tou- 
 lon. I then had the command of a battalion, and 
 in that command might have some influence on the 
 success of the siege. 
 
 Never was army so ill conducted as ours. No 
 one knew who commanded. The generals dared 
 not, for fear of the Representatives of the People, 
 and these were still more frightened at the Com- 
 mittee of Public Safety. The commissaries plun- 
 dered, the officers drank, the soldiers were starv- 
 ing but they were careless and brave. This very 
 disorder inspired more courage than discipline;
 
 and I became satisfied that mechanical armies are 
 good for nothing. They have proved so. 
 
 All was done in our camp by motions and ac- 
 clamations. This way of going on was insupport- 
 able to me, but I could not prevent it, so I pursued 
 my own plans without taking notice of it. 
 
 I was perhaps the only man in the army who 
 had a plan ; but it was my humour to have an end 
 in every thing. I employed myself in examining 
 the enemy's position and our own; I compared his 
 moral means with ours; I saw that here we had 
 every thing, and he nothing. His expedition was 
 a miserable scheme, the catastrophe of which he 
 must have foreseen : and he must be weak indeed, 
 who foresees his own discomfiture. 
 
 I sought the best points of attack ; I calculated 
 the range of our batteries, and I pointed out the 
 proper positions. The experienced officers thought 
 them too dangerous, but battles are not won by 
 experience. I persisted; I shewed my plan to 
 Barras ; he had been a sailor : these brave men un- 
 derstand nothing of war, but they are intrepid. 
 Barras approved, because he wished to finish the 
 business. Besides, the Convention was not to call 
 him to account for arms and legs, but for his suc- 
 cess. 
 
 My artillerymen were brave and inexperienced 
 the best of all possible men for soldiers. Our at-
 
 8 
 
 tacks succeeded; the enemy were frightened, they 
 dared not attempt any thing against us. They 
 stupidly sent balls which fell as chance directed, 
 and did no execution. I was zealous, because I ex- 
 pected promotion; but I also liked success for its 
 own sake. I passed my time in the batteries I 
 slept in the trenches. Nothing is well done that 
 one does not do one's self. We learnt from the 
 prisoners that all was going to ruin in the place. 
 At length it was evacuated in a shameful manner. 
 
 We had merited well of our country. I was 
 made brigadier-general. I was employed, de- 
 nounced, cashiered, balloted for, by faction and 
 intrigue. I conceived a decided horror for the 
 anarchy that was then at its height, and I never 
 became reconciled to it. This murderous govern- 
 ment was the more detestable to me as it was ab- 
 surd and self-destructive. It was a perpetual 
 revolution, the very leaders of which never seemed 
 to think of any permanent establishment. 
 
 A general, but without employment, I went to 
 Paris because it was the only place where I could 
 get any thing. I attached myself to Barras, be- 
 cause he was the only man I knew. Robespierre 
 was dead: Barras played an active part: I was 
 forced to attach myself to some one, and to some 
 thing. 
 
 The affair of the sections was coming on: I
 
 took little interest in it, because I cared less for 
 politics than war. I did not think of being an 
 actor in the scene; but Barras proposed to me to 
 take the command of the force armed against the 
 insurgents, under him. As a general, I rather pre- 
 ferred being at the head of the troops to fighting in 
 the ranks for the sections, where I had no business. 
 
 We had only a handful of men and two four- 
 pounders to defend the riding-house. A column 
 from the sections came to attack us, to its cost. I 
 fired my field pieces ; the sectionaries fled ; I pur- 
 sued ; they threw themselves upon the steps of St. 
 Koque. The street was so narrow that we could 
 only bring forward one of our pieces, with which 
 we fired upon the mob ; a few were killed ; the rest 
 dispersed : and the whole was over in ten minutes. 
 
 This event, trifling in itself, produced import- 
 ant consequences ; it prevented the revolution from 
 a retrograde movement. I naturally attached my- 
 self to the party for which I had fought, and I 
 thus found myself bound to the revolutionary 
 cause. I began to fathom it, and was convinced 
 that it would be victorious : it was in possession of 
 opinion, numbers, and boldness. 
 
 The affair of the sections made me a general 
 of division, and gave me a kind of celebrity. As 
 the victorious party trembled for their triumph, 
 they kept me at Paris against my wishes ; for my
 
 10 
 
 only ambition was to engage in war in my new 
 rank. 
 
 I remained then idle in Paris. I had no con- 
 nections there; I had no habitual society; that of 
 Barras was the only one I frequented, and there I 
 was well received. It was there I first saw my 
 wife, who has had a great influence on my life, and 
 whose memory will be for ever dear to me. 
 
 I was not insensible to the charms of women, 
 but to that period I had not been spoiled by them ; 
 and my character made me shy of them. Mad. de 
 Beauharnais was the first who encouraged me. She 
 said some flattering things on my military talents 
 one day when I was sitting by her. Her praises 
 intoxicated me : I talked to her continually ; I fol- 
 lowed her every where ; I was passionately in love 
 with her ; and all our society had perceived it long 
 before I dared to tell her so. 
 
 My sentiments were talked of; Barras taxed 
 me with them. I could have no reasons for deny- 
 ing them. "In that case," said he, "you must 
 "marry Mad. de Beauharnais. You have your 
 "rank and talents to make the most of; but you 
 "are insulated, without fortune and without con- 
 "nections: you must marry; it gives consequence. 
 "Mad. de Beauharnais is agreeable and intelli- 
 gent, but she is a widow. Her situation has now 
 "no advantages : women no longer act a part ; they
 
 11 
 
 ' ' must marry to have any influence : you have reso- 
 ' ' lution ; you will make your way ; you suit her. 
 "Will you entrust me to negociate for you?" 
 
 I awaited her answer with anxiety: it was fa- 
 vourable: Mad. de Beauharnais granted me her 
 hand; and if I have experienced any moments of 
 happiness in my life, it is to her I owe them. 
 
 My station in the world changed after my mar- 
 riage. Under the directory a sort of social order, 
 in which I had gained a tolerably elevated rank, 
 had been re-established. Ambition in me had be- 
 come rational ; I might aspire to any thing. 
 
 As to ambition, I had none but to be made a 
 commander in chief; for a man is nothing unless 
 he has a military reputation before him. I 
 thought myself certain of acquiring one, for I felt 
 an instinctive talent for war; but I had no pre- 
 tences on which to found such a claim. I was ob- 
 liged to make some: in those times there was no 
 difficulty. 
 
 The army of Italy was a mere skeleton, for it 
 had not been employed. I suggested to send it to 
 attack Austria in the point where she was most se- 
 cure ; that is to say, in Italy. 
 
 The Directory was at peace with Russia and 
 Spain. But Austria in the pay of England had 
 strengthened her army, and kept us in check on 
 the Rhine. It was clear that we ought to make
 
 12 
 
 a diversion in Italy; to alarm Austria; to give a 
 lesson to the petty princes of Italy who were 
 leagued against us; in short, to give a decided 
 colour to the war, which it had hitherto wanted. 
 
 This plan was so simple, it suited the Directory 
 so well because it wanted success to keep up its 
 credit, that I made haste to present it, lest it should 
 be forestalled. It met with no opposition, and I 
 was named commander in chief of the army of 
 Italy. 
 
 I set out to join it. It had been reinforced 
 from the army of Spain, and I found it fifty thou- 
 sand strong, destitute of every thing but good will. 
 I was to try it. A very few days after my arrival, 
 I ordered a general movement throughout the line. 
 It extended from Nice to Savona. It was at the 
 beginning of April, 1796. 
 
 In three days we carried all the Austro-Sar- 
 dinian posts which defended the heights of Liguria. 
 The enemy being briskly attacked, concentrated his 
 forces. We met him on the 10th at Montenolle ; he 
 was beaten. On the 14th we attacked him at 
 Millesimo, he was beaten again, and we separated 
 the Austrians from the Piedmontese. These last 
 took up a position at Mondovi, whilst the Austrians 
 retired on the Po, to cover Lombardy. 
 
 I beat the Piedmontese; in three days I seized 
 every position in Piedmont, and we were within
 
 13 
 
 nine leagues of Turin, when I received an aide-de- 
 camp, who came to sue for peace. 
 
 I then, for the first time, looked on myself not 
 merely as a general, but as a man called upon to 
 influence the fate of nations. I saw that I had a 
 place in history. 
 
 This peace changed my plans. I no longer con- 
 fined my views to making war in Italy, but re- 
 solved to conquer it. I felt that by enlarging the 
 ground of the revolution, I gave a more solid base 
 to its superstructure. It was the best means of 
 securing its success. 
 
 The court of Piedmont had given up all its 
 strong places to us. It had put the country into 
 our hands: we were masters beyond the Alps 
 and Appenine. We were sure of our points of 
 strength, and tranquil concerning a retreat 
 
 From this fine position I attacked the Aus- 
 trians. I crossed the Po at Plaisance, and the 
 Adda at Lodi: it was not without difficulty; but 
 Beaulieu retired, and I entered Milan. 
 
 The Austrians made incredible efforts to re- 
 cover Italy. I was obliged to beat their armies five 
 times before I succeeded. 
 
 Once master of Italy, it was necessary to estab- 
 lish the revolutionary system in order to unite the 
 country to France by common principles and com- 
 mon interests; that is to say, that it was neces-
 
 14 
 
 sary to destroy the ancient system of ranks and 
 establish equality ; because it is the main spring of 
 the revolution. I foresaw that I should have the 
 clergy, the nobility, and their dependants against 
 me; that they would resist stoutly, but I resolved 
 to overcome them by arms, and not to stir the peo- 
 ple. 
 
 I had done great things, but it was necessary to 
 assume a corresponding tone and attitude. The 
 revolution had destroyed every species of dignity ; 
 I could not give back to France the pomp of roy- 
 alty: I gave her the lustre of victory, and the 
 language of a victor. 
 
 I resolved to become the protector of Italy, and 
 not her conquerer. I succeeded by maintaining 
 the discipline of the army, by punishing revolt se- 
 verely ; but above all, by the establishment of the 
 Cisalpine republic. By that institution I satisfied 
 the avowed wish of the Italians to be indepen- 
 dent. I held out great hopes to them : it depended 
 on themselves to realise them by embracing our 
 cause. They were allies I was procuring for 
 France. 
 
 This alliance will last long between the two peo- 
 ples, because it is founded on common interests 
 and common services : they had the same opinions 
 and the same springs of action. Without me they 
 would have kept up their old enmity. Sure of
 
 15 
 
 Italy, I scrupled not to venture into the very heart 
 of Austria. I arrived in sight of Vienna, and I 
 signed the treaty of Campo Fonnio. It was a 
 glorious act for France. 
 
 The party I had countenanced on the 18 
 Fructidor had remained master of the republic. 
 I had favoured it because it was mine, and be- 
 cause it was the only one calculated to push on the 
 revolution. Now, the more I had taken part in 
 public affairs the more I was convinced of the ne- 
 cessity of accomplishing the revolution, because 
 it was the fruit of public opinion and of the age: 
 every thing that retarded its progress prolonged 
 the crisis. 
 
 Peace was made on the continent ; we were only 
 at war with England, and for want of a field of 
 battle we were inactive. I was conscious of my 
 powers : they were of a nature to distinguish me, 
 but they were unemployed. I knew, however, that 
 in order to remain in sight I must fix attention, 
 and the only means of doing so was by extraor- 
 dinary undertakings ; because men are grateful for 
 excitation. In consequence of this opinion I un- 
 dertook the expedition to Egypt. It was attributed 
 to profound speculations on my part : but I had no 
 other motive than not to remain idle after the 
 peace I had just concluded. 
 
 This expedition would give a high idea of the
 
 16 
 
 power of France; it would fix attention on its 
 commander ; it would surprise Europe by its bold- 
 ness. These were more than sufficient motives for 
 the undertaking ; but I had not then the slightest 
 wish to dethrone the Grand Turk, or even to make 
 myself a Pasha. 
 
 I prepared for my departure in profound sil- 
 ence : it was necessary to our success, and added to 
 the singular character of the expedition. 
 
 The fleet set sail. I was obliged to destroy 
 that nest of nobility at Malta*, as I passed, be- 
 cause it served nobody but the English. I was 
 afraid lest some old leaven of honour might have 
 tempted these knights to defend themselves and 
 retard me; fortunately they surrendered even 
 more ignominiously than I had hoped for. 
 
 The battle of Aboukir destroyed the fleet, and 
 delivered up the sea to the English. From that 
 moment I anticipated the catastrophe of the expe- 
 dition : for every army which cannot be recruited 
 must sooner or later capitulate. 
 
 Meantime we were forced to remain in Egypt, 
 for we had no means of leaving it. I resolved to 
 put a good face upon a losing game. I succeeded 
 tolerably. 
 
 I had a fine army : it required occupation, and 
 
 *It is not possible to do justice to the original expression 
 Cette gentilhomiere de Malte. T
 
 17 
 
 I finished the conquest of Egypt to fill up the time. 
 By that means I opened to science the fairest field 
 she ever explored. 
 
 Our soldiers indeed were a little surprised at 
 finding themselves in the freehold of Sesostris; 
 but they took it very well, and it was so singular 
 to see a Frenchman among such ruins, that they 
 themselves were diverted at it. 
 
 Having nothing more to do in Egypt, I 
 thought it would be interesting to go to Palestine, 
 and attempt to conquer it. This expedition had a 
 romantic air ; I allowed myself to be seduced by it ; 
 but I was ill informed with regard to the obstacles 
 I was to meet, and I did not take troops enough 
 with me. 
 
 Having passed the desert, I learned that forces 
 had been assembled at St. Jean d'Acre; I could 
 not despise them; I was forced to march thither. 
 The place was defended by a French engineer. I 
 perceived it by the resistance it made. I was ob- 
 liged to raise the siege : the retreat was disastrous. 
 For the first time I had to encounter the opposing 
 elements ; but we were not overcome. 
 
 On my return to Egypt, I received the public 
 journals by way of Tunis. From them I learned 
 the deplorable state of France, the disgrace of the 
 directory, and the success of the coalition. I 
 thought I might serve my country a second time.
 
 18 
 
 No motive now detained me in Egypt: the enter- 
 prise was at an end. Any general was competent 
 to sign a capitulation which time would render in- 
 evitable, and I set out without any farther design 
 than that of re-appearing at the head of the armies 
 to lead them back to victory. 
 
 On landing at Frejus, my presence excited en- 
 thusiasm in the people. My military glory reani- 
 mated those who had been beaten. The roads were 
 crowded as I passed: my journey had the air of a 
 triumph, and on my arrival at Paris I found that 
 I was all-powerful in France. 
 
 I found the government in a state of anarchy; 
 its imbecility had brought it within an ace of its 
 ruin. Every one was for saving his country, and 
 every one proposed his plan. All these various 
 schemes were confided to me ; I was the pivot upon 
 which every coalition turned ; but there was not a 
 single head capable of conducting any fixed plan. 
 They all relied on me, because they all required 
 the sword. I relied on nobody, and I was free to 
 choose the plan which best suited my own. 
 
 Fortune semed ready to place me at the head 
 of the state. I prepared to be master of the revo- 
 lution, for I did not choose to be only its chief: 
 that part would not have suited me. I was then 
 called upon to prepare the future fate of France, 
 perhaps that of the world.
 
 19 
 
 But it was necessary first to make war ; to make 
 peace ; to put down faction ; to found my authority. 
 It was necessary to put the huge machine, called 
 government, in motion. I knew the weight of the 
 resistance, and should then have preferred the 
 single trade of war; for I loved the authority of 
 head quarters and the emotion of the field of bat- 
 tle. In short, at that moment I felt more disposed 
 to restore the military superiority of France than 
 to govern it. 
 
 But I had no choice in my destiny. I easily per- 
 ceived that the reign of the Directory was near its 
 end ; that some imposing authority must be put in 
 its place, in order to save the state; that there is 
 nothing truly imposing but military glory. The 
 Directory could then only be succeeded by me, or 
 by a state of anarchy. The choice of France was 
 not doubtful. On this head public opinion en- 
 lightened my own. 
 
 I proposed to supply the place of the Directory 
 by a consulship ; so far was I from conceiving the 
 idea of assuming the sovereign power. The re- 
 publicans proposed to elect two consuls; I de- 
 manded a third, because I did not choose an equal. 
 The first place in this triumvirate was justly my 
 due ; it was all I aimed at. 
 
 My proposal was received by the republicans 
 with distrust. They already perceived a dictator
 
 20 
 
 among the triumviri; they combined against me. 
 Even the presence of Sieyes could not pacify 
 them. He had taken upon him to draw up a con- 
 stitution ; but the Jacobins felt more terror at my 
 sword than confidence in the pen of their old 
 Abbe. 
 
 All parties were now ranged under two ban- 
 ners: on one side were the republicans who op- 
 posed my elevation, and on the other all France 
 demanding it. It was therefore inevitable at that 
 period, because the majority always ends by suc- 
 ceeding. The first had established their head- 
 quarters in the council of Five Hundred; they 
 made a resolute defence; we were obliged to win 
 the battle of St. Cloud to bring about this revo- 
 lution. At one time I thought it would have been 
 carried by acclamation. 
 
 The wishes of the public had given me the first 
 place in the state: the resistance they had met 
 with did not alarm me, because it proceeded from 
 persons blasted in the opinion of that public. The 
 royalists had not appeared; they had been taken 
 by surprise. The body of the people had con- 
 fidence in me, because they knew that the revolu- 
 tion could not have better security than mine. I 
 derived my strength solely from being at the head 
 of the interests created by that revolution, since,
 
 21 
 
 had I forced it backwards, I should have come 
 upon the ground of the Bourbons. 
 
 It was important that all should be new in the 
 nature of my power, in order that all kinds of am- 
 bition might find their aliment. But there was 
 nothing defined in it, and that was its defect. 
 
 By the constitution I was only the first magis- 
 trate of the republic; but my staff of office was a 
 sword. My constitutional rights, and the as- 
 cendency given me by my character and actions, 
 were incompatible. The public felt as well as I 
 did that this could not last, and every one took 
 measures accordingly. 
 
 I found more courtiers than I wanted; they 
 formed a train : and I was not at all in pain about 
 the progress of my authority, but very much so 
 as to the material situation of France. 
 
 We had allowed ourselves to be beaten: the 
 Austrians had recovered Italy, and overturned 
 my labours. We had no army to employ offen- 
 sively ; there was not a sous in the exchequer, and 
 no means of supplying it. The conscription only 
 went on as it pleased the country mayors. Sieyes 
 had drawn up an inefficient and wordy constitu- 
 tion. All that constitutes the strength of a state 
 was annihilated ; the weak parts only remained. 
 
 Forced by circumstances, I thought it right to 
 demand peace. I could then do it in good earnest,
 
 22 
 
 because it would have made my fortune: later, it 
 would have been disgraceful. 
 
 Mr. Pitt refused it, and never did statesman 
 commit so great a blunder; for that was the only 
 opening for the allies to make it with safety: 
 France, by demanding peace, acknowledged that 
 she was conquered; and nations may rise from 
 every reverse if they do not consent to their own 
 disgrace. 
 
 Mr. Pitt refused it. He saved me from com- 
 mitting a great error, and he extended the empire 
 of the Revolution over all Europe an empire that 
 even my fall has not been able to destroy. Had he 
 then left it to itself, it would have been confined 
 to France. 
 
 Thus I was forced to go to war. Massena de- 
 fended himself in Genoa; but the armies of the 
 Republic no longer dared to cross either the 
 Rhine or the Alps. We must return to Italy, we 
 must return to Germany, before we could a second 
 time dictate the terms of peace to Austria. Such 
 was my plan ; but I had neither soldiers, ordnance, 
 nor small arms. 
 
 I called out the conscripts; I set armourers 
 to work; I roused the sentiments of that na- 
 tional honour, which is never more than lulled in 
 the breast of a Frenchman. I assembled an army : 
 half of it still wore the clothing of the peasantry.
 
 23 
 
 Europe laughed at my soldiers ; but she paid dear- 
 ly for her momentary mirth. 
 
 However, it was impossible openly to take the 
 field with such an army. But at least it was feasi- 
 ble to surprise the enemy, and take advantage of 
 that surprise. General Suchet drew him on to- 
 wards the defiles of Nice ; Massena protracted the 
 defence of Genoa from day to day. I set out; 
 I advanced towards the Alps; my presence, the 
 grandeur of the enterprize, animated the soldiers. 
 They had no shoes, but they marched as if each 
 belonged to the van-guard. 
 
 At no time in my life did I ever feel such a 
 sentiment as that, with which I entered the defiles 
 of the Alps. The mountain echoes resounded with 
 the shouts of the army. They announced an un- 
 certain but probable victory. I was re-entering 
 Italy the theatre of my first campaign. My can- 
 non slowly climbed the rocks. My first grenadiers 
 reached the summit of St. Bernard. They threw 
 up their hats, decorated with red feathers, into the 
 air, and shouted for joy. The Alps were crossed, 
 and we poured down like a torrent. 
 
 General L'Asne commanded the advanced 
 guard. He seized Ivree, Verceil, Pavia, and se- 
 cured the passage of the Po. The whole army 
 crossed it without interruption. 
 
 Soldiers and generals were young alike at that
 
 24 
 
 time. We had our fortune to make. We made 
 light of fatigue, still lighter of danger. We were 
 careless of every thing, but of that glory which 
 is only to be obtained on the field of battle. 
 
 At the news of my arrival, the Austrians 
 manoeuvred upon Alexandria. Crowded up in 
 that town, at the moment I appeared before its 
 walls, their columns spread themselves in front of 
 the Bormida. I attacked them. Their artillery 
 was superior to mine; it disordered our young 
 battalions; they gave ground. The line was kept 
 only by two battalions of the guards and the 
 forty-fifth. But I expected some corps that were 
 marching in file. Dessaix's division arrived; the 
 line rallied. Dessaix formed his column of at- 
 tack, he carried the village of Marengo, upon 
 which the centre of the enemy was posted. But 
 that great general was killed at the very moment 
 in which he had decided an immortal victory. 
 
 The enemy sought shelter under the walls of 
 Alexandria. The bridges were too narrow for 
 them to pass; a dreadful confusion ensued; we 
 took bodies of artillery, the whole batallions. 
 Crowded up beyond the Tanaro, without com- 
 munication, without retreat, threatened on the 
 rear by Massena and Suchet, with a victorious 
 army in front, the Austrians submitted. Melas 
 begged to capitulate it was unheard of in the
 
 25 
 
 annals of war. The whole of Italy was restored 
 to me, and the conquered army laid down their 
 arms at the feet of our conscripts. 
 
 This day was the brightest of my life, for it 
 was one of the brightest for France. All was 
 changed for her; she was soon to enjoy a peace 
 which she had conquered. She lay down to rest 
 like a lion. She must be happy, for she was great. 
 
 Faction was at rest ; it was dazzled into silence. 
 La Vendee was calmer; the Jacobins were forced 
 to thank me for the victory, for it turned to their 
 account. I had no rivals. 
 
 Common danger and public enthusiasm had 
 forced every party to join for the moment. Se- 
 curity divided them. Wherever there is not an in- 
 contestable centre of power men will be found who 
 will hope to incline it towards themselves. It is 
 what happened to mine. My authority was only 
 that of a temporary magistracy ; it was therefore 
 not unalterable. Whoever had vanity, and be- 
 lieved himself possessed of talent, began a cam- 
 paign against me. The tribune became the citadel 
 whence they began their attack, under the name 
 of the executive power. 
 
 If I had yielded to their declamations, it had 
 been all over with the state. It had too many 
 enemies to venture to divide its forces, or to lose 
 time in words. The recent trial was a tolerably
 
 26 
 
 rude proof, but it had not sufficed to silence those, 
 who will always prefer the interest of their private 
 vanity to that of their country. They amused 
 themselves, in order to gain popularity, with re- 
 sisting taxes, abusing the government, and hamp- 
 ering its proceedings, as well as keeping back the 
 recruits for the army. 
 
 Had this continued, we should have fallen a 
 prey to the enemy in ten days. We were not yet 
 strong enough to hazard it. My power was too 
 new to be invulnerable. The consulate would have 
 faded like the directory, if I had not destroyed the 
 opposition by a stroke of policy. I deposed the 
 factious tribunes. The world of Paris called this 
 to eliminate them; the word made its fortune*. 
 
 This trifling event, which is now assuredly for- 
 gotten, changed the constitution of France, both 
 internally and with regard to Europe. The 
 enemies of the revolution, both within and with- 
 out, were too violent not to force her to adopt the 
 form of a dictatorship, as every other republic 
 has done in moments of danger. Balanced powers 
 can only answer in peaceful times. They were 
 obliged to increase mine on the contrary every 
 
 *This is an awkward and periphrastic translation, but the 
 real English expel, or in the other sense worn-out, would never 
 do: the word had till then, even in Prance, been rarely used and 
 the run that it had was but for a time.
 
 27 
 
 time it appeared in danger, in order to prevent a 
 relapse. 
 
 I should, perhaps, have done better, had I 
 frankly insisted on the dictatorship at once, since 
 I was accused of aspiring to it. Every one would 
 have been a judge of what they called my am- 
 bition: I believe it would have been better; for 
 monsters appear greater at a distance than close 
 by. The dictatorship would have had the advan- 
 tage of leaving nothing to guess of for the fu- 
 ture; of leaving opinion undivided, and of in- 
 timidating the enemy by shewing the resolution of 
 France. 
 
 But I perceived that this high authority was 
 placed, as of itself, in my hands. I had no oc- 
 casion to receive it officially. I exercised it in 
 fact, if not by right, and it was sufficient to sur- 
 vive the crisis, and to save France and the revolu- 
 tion. 
 
 My task then was to terminate the revolution, 
 by giving it a lawful character, that it might be 
 acknowledged and legitimated by the common- 
 wealth of Europe. 
 
 All revolutions have undergone the same con- 
 flicts. Ours could not expect to be exempt from 
 them ; but she might claim in her turn her right of 
 citizenship in that commonwealth. 
 
 I knew that before we proposed it, our prin-
 
 28 
 
 ciples must be fixed; our legislation agreed upon, 
 and our excesses repressed. I believed myself 
 strong enough to succeed, and I was not mistaken. 
 
 The principle of the revolution was the aboli- 
 tion of castes, or in other words equality. I 
 respected it. The office of Legislation is to regu- 
 late principles. In this spirit I made laws. Ex- 
 cesses had shewn themselves in the existence of 
 factions. I did not notice them, and they disap- 
 peared. They had shewn themselves in the de- 
 struction of religious worship; I re-established 
 it. In the existence of emigrants; I recalled 
 them. In the general disorder of administration; 
 I reformed it. In the ruin of the finance; I re- 
 stored it. In the want of an authority competent 
 to govern France; I gave her that authority by 
 taking into my own hands the reins of govern- 
 ment. 
 
 Few men have done so much as I did then in 
 so short a time. History will one day record what 
 France was at my accession, and what she was 
 when she gave laws to Europe. 
 
 I had no occasion to employ arbitrary power to 
 accomplish these stupendous works. Probably it 
 would not have been refused me : but I would not 
 have accepted it, because I have always detested 
 whatever is arbitrary. I loved good order and 
 laws. I made many, and I made them severe and
 
 29 
 
 precise, but just; because a law which permits no 
 exceptions is always just. I caused them to be 
 rigorously observed, for such is the duty of the 
 throne, but I respected them. They will survive 
 me : and that will reward my labours. 
 
 All seemed to prosper. The state revived ; good 
 order began to re-appear. I devoted myself ar- 
 dently to the work, but I felt that there was some- 
 thing wanting in the system that is to say, a 
 definitive. 
 
 However strong my desire might be to give 
 the revolution a permanent establishment, I clear- 
 ly saw that I should have to overcome great ob- 
 stacles before I succeeded: for there was a nec- 
 essary antipathy between the old and new sys- 
 tems. They formed two masses whose interests 
 were precisely in an inverse ratio. All the gov- 
 ernments which still subsisted by virtue of the 
 ancient law of nations saw themselves exposed by 
 the principles of the revolution, which itself had 
 no security but in treating with the enemy, or 
 destroying him if he refused to acknowledge it. 
 
 This struggle was to decide, as by a last ap- 
 peal, on the renewal of the social order of Europe. 
 I was at the head of the great faction which would 
 fain have destroyed the system on which the 
 world had gone on since the time of the Romans. 
 As such I was set up as a mark for the hatred of
 
 30 
 
 all who were interested in preserving their Gothic 
 rust. A less decided character than mine might 
 have temporised, and left a part at least of this 
 question to be disposed of by time. 
 
 But as soon as I had sounded the two factions 
 to the very bottom as soon as I had perceived 
 that they really divided the world as at the time 
 of the reformation, I understood that there could 
 be no compact between them, because their inter- 
 ests clashed too much. I understood that the more 
 the crisis was shortened the better for the people. 
 It was therefore absolutely necessary that we 
 should have the half plus one of Europe in order 
 to incline the balance in our favour. I could only 
 command this preponderance by the right of the 
 strongest, because it is the only one acknowledged 
 between nations. It was therefore also necessary 
 to become the strongest ; for I was not only called 
 to govern France, but to subdue the world before 
 her; otherwise she would have been crushed by 
 the world. 
 
 I never had a choice in the course I pursued, 
 for it was always commanded by events ; because 
 our danger was imminent; and the 31st March 
 proved how far it was to be dreaded, and how im- 
 possible it was to teach the old and new systems 
 to abide together in peace. 
 
 It was then easy to foresee that as long as there
 
 31 
 
 should be a parity of force between the two, there 
 would be war, open, or disguised. Any peace that 
 might be signed would be but to gain a breathing- 
 time. France then, as the head-quarters of the re- 
 volution, was bound to hold herself in readiness to 
 resist the tempest. For this purpose it was 
 requisite that there should be unity in the govern- 
 ment, to ensure strength; union in the nation, to 
 produce a common aim ; and confidence in the peo- 
 ple, that they might consent to the sacrifices neces- 
 sary to ensure victory. 
 
 But every thing was precarious in the consular 
 system, because nothing was in its proper sphere. 
 There was a nominal republic, a real sovereignty ; 
 a feeble representation of the people, a strong ex- 
 ecutive power; obedient authority, and a prepon- 
 derating army. 
 
 Nothing can go on well in a political system 
 where words and things are at variance. Gov- 
 ernment debases itself by the continual fictions it 
 must use : it falls into that kind of contempt which 
 is felt for falsehood, because whatever is false is 
 weak. The time is past for finessing in politics: 
 the people are too well informed ; the gazettes dis- 
 close too much. There is but one secret for gov- 
 erning the world; it is, Be strong: in strength 
 there can be neither error nor deception: it is 
 truth naked.
 
 32 
 
 I felt the weakness of my situation the ab- 
 surdity of my consulate. Something solid was re- 
 quired as rallying point for the revolution. I 
 was named consul for life. It was a life-rent of 
 superiority; insufficient in itself, because it fixed 
 some future date, and nothing ruins confidence 
 like the certainty of a change. But it answered 
 for the time for which it was adopted. 
 
 Meantime, what had I gained by the truce of 
 Amiens? I had hazarded an imprudent expedi- 
 tion, for which I was reproached, and justly, for 
 it was worthless of itself. 
 
 I tried to recover San Domingo; I had good 
 reasons for the attempt. France was too much 
 hated by the allies to dare to remain inactive dur- 
 ing the peace: she was forced to maintain her 
 strength ; and it was necessary to give some scope 
 to idle curiosity. The army required to be kept 
 constantly in motion to prevent it from falling 
 off : besides I was glad to try our sea forces. 
 
 For the rest, the expedition was ill conducted : 
 wherever I was not present things went wrong. 
 But it was much the same ; it was easy to perceive 
 that the English ministry was about to break the 
 truce, and if we had subdued San Domingo, it 
 would have been for them. 
 
 Every day augmented my security; when the 
 event of the 3d Nivose shewed me that I was upon
 
 33 
 
 a volcano. That conspiracy was unforeseen; it 
 was the only one with which the police had not 
 been beforehand. There were no confidents in the 
 business, and for that reason it succeeded. 
 
 I escaped by miracle: the interest shewn for 
 me made up amply for the danger. The time of 
 the conspiracy was ill chosen: nothing was ready 
 for the Bourbons in France. 
 
 The guilty were sought for. I can say with 
 truth that I accused only the mob-patriots*; for 
 whenever a crime was committed, every one was 
 disposed to give them the honour of it. I was 
 very much astonished when the result of the en- 
 quiries proved, that the good people of Kue St. 
 Nicaise were obliged to the royalists for blowing 
 them up. 
 
 I fancied the royalists had been good people, 
 because they accused us of not being so ; and I be- 
 lieved them incapable of the boldness and the vil- 
 lany that such a scheme required. In fact, the pro- 
 ject was that of a few who robbed stage coaches ; 
 a set that was talked of and nattered, but little 
 respected by the party. . 
 
 Thus the royalists, who had been quite for- 
 gotten since the pacification of La Vendee, re- 
 
 * Brutur du Coin, literally, Brutuges of the Minories. The 
 closest parallel would have been the patriots of Spafields. T.
 
 34 
 
 appeared on the political horizon: it was a nat- 
 ural consequence of the increase of my authority. 
 I was building up royalty; it was poaching upon 
 their grounds. 
 
 They never perceived that my monarchy had 
 nothing to do with theirs; mine was all in fact; 
 theirs in right: theirs was founded on custom; 
 mine did without : it went along with the genius of 
 the age ; theirs struggled to fetter it. 
 
 The republicans were alarmed at the height 
 to which circumstances had raised me. They 
 dreaded the use I was to make of my power ; they 
 trembled lest I should re-establish an old-fash- 
 ioned royalty by the assistance of my army. The 
 royalists kept up these reports, and delighted to 
 represent me as apeing their ancient monarchs: 
 other royalists more adroitly spread abroad that I 
 had fallen in love with the character of Monk, and 
 that I had taken the pains to restore power, only 
 to make a present of it to the Bourbons, when it 
 should be worthy of their acceptance. 
 
 Weak minds, who could not fathom my 
 strength, believed these reports. They supported 
 the royalists, and abused me to the people, and in 
 the army, for they began to doubt my attachment 
 to their cause. I could not allow such an opinion 
 to gain ground, because it tended to disunite us.
 
 35 
 
 It was necessary to undeceive France, the 
 royalists, and Europe, at any price, that they 
 might know what to trust to. A persecution in 
 detail against words can produce no other than 
 bad effects, because it does not strike at the root 
 of evil. Besides, it is become impossible in this 
 age of public appeal, when the exile of a woman 
 disturbed all France. 
 
 Unfortunately for me, there happened at this 
 very decisive moment one of those chances which 
 destroy the best resolutions. The police discov- 
 ered some litle royalist plots, the source of which 
 was beyond the Rhine; an august personage was 
 implicated in them. All the circumstances squared 
 in an incredible way with those which led me to 
 strike a decided political blow. The death of the 
 Due d'Enghien would put the question that agi- 
 tated France at rest. It would decide irrevocably 
 as to me. I gave orders for it. 
 
 A man of great judgment, and who ought to 
 know something of these matters, said of this mur- 
 der, that it was more than a crime, that it was a 
 fault. Begging pardon of that personage, it was 
 a crime, and it was not a fault. I know well the 
 value of words. The crime of the unfortunate 
 prince was confined to a few miserable intrigues 
 in concert with some dowage baronesses at 
 Strasbourg. He was playing his game. His in-
 
 36 
 
 trigues were watched, and could neither affect my 
 safety nor that of France. He perished, the vic- 
 tim of policy, and an unheard-of concatenation of 
 circumstances. 
 
 His death was not a fault, because all the con- 
 sequences I foresaw came to pass. 
 
 The war with England was renewed, because 
 it is impossible for that country to remain long 
 at peace. The territory of England is become 
 too small for its population. She requires a 
 monopoly of the four quarters of the globe to en- 
 able her to exist. War procures this monopoly, 
 because it gives England the right of destruction 
 at sea. It is her safeguard. 
 
 The war was languid for want of ground to 
 fight on. England was obliged to hire some on 
 the continent, but the harvest required time to 
 grow. Austria had received such severe lessons, 
 that the ministers dared not propose war so soon, 
 however willing they might be to earn their 
 money. Prussia was thriving in her neutrality. 
 Russia had made a fatal trial of war in Switzer- 
 land. Italy and Spain had entered with but little 
 reservation into my system. The continent was 
 at a stand. 
 
 For want of better I set about a project for in- 
 vading England. I never thought of realising it, 
 for it would have failed : not that the actual land-
 
 37 
 
 ing would have been impossible, but a retreat 
 would have been so. There is not a single English- 
 man who would not have taken up arms to save the 
 honour of his country; and the French army, left 
 without help to their mercy, would have perished 
 or surrendered. I made such a trial in Egypt in- 
 deed, but in London the stake was too deep. 
 
 As threats cost nothing, since I had nothing to 
 do with my troops, it was as well to keep them in 
 garrison on the coast as elsewhere. This demon- 
 stration obliged England to adopt a ruinous sys- 
 tem of defence. It was so much gained. 
 
 In revenge, however, there was a conspiracy 
 formed against me. I may give the honour of this 
 to the emigrant princes, for it was truly royal. 
 They had set on foot an army of conspirators, and 
 accordingly we had notice of it within twenty- 
 four hours ; so safe were the confidants. 
 
 However, as I resolved to punish men who 
 sought to overturn the state (which is contrary to 
 all laws divine and human) I was obliged to wait 
 till undeniable proofs were collected before I ar- 
 rested them. 
 
 Pichegru was at the head of these machina- 
 tions. This man, who had more bravery than tal- 
 ent, wanted to act the part of Monk; he was cut 
 out for it.
 
 38 
 
 These schemes gave me little uneasiness, be- 
 cause I knew their aim, and that public opinion 
 did not favour them. Though the royalists had 
 assassinated me, they would not have been a whit 
 nearer the mark. There is a time for all things. 
 
 I soon learnt that Moreau was implicated in 
 the plot, and this was a delicate affair to handle, 
 because his popularity was tremendous. It was 
 clear that he must be gained. His reputation was 
 too high for us to remain good neighbours. I 
 could not be all while he was nothing. It was 
 convenient to find a decent pretext for separating. 
 He furnished it. 
 
 It was currently said that I was jealous of 
 him: there was but little truth in this; but he 
 was very jealous of me, and with reason. I es- 
 teemed him, because he was a good soldier. His 
 friends were all those who hated me; that is to 
 say, a great many. They would have made a hero 
 of him, had he been put to death. I resolved to 
 shew him as he was a man of no character. I 
 succeeded; absence was fatal to him; his friends 
 forgot him, and nobody else ever cared more about 
 him. 
 
 Less delicacy was required with regard to the 
 other criminals. They were old hackneyed con- 
 spirators, of whom it was important to purge
 
 39 
 
 France for ever. We succeeded, for from that 
 time they never re-appeared. 
 
 I was overwhelmed with petitions. All the 
 women and children in Paris were in commotion. 
 Every body's pardon was sued for. I had the 
 weakness to send a few of the criminals to the 
 state prisons, instead of allowing justice to take 
 its course. 
 
 I even now regret this kind of indulgence, be- 
 cause in a sovereign it is nothing more than a cul- 
 pable weakness. He has but one duty to fulfil to- 
 wards the state, that of enforcing the laws. Every 
 compromise with crime becomes a crime in the 
 crown. The prerogative of mercy ought never to 
 be exerted in favour of the guilty; it should be 
 reserved for those unfortunate persons who are 
 absolved by conscience, though condemned by law. 
 
 Pichegru was found strangled in his bed. Of 
 course it was said to be by my orders. I was 
 totally ignorant concerning the matter. I cannot 
 perceive what interest I could have had in antici- 
 pating his public execution. He was not better 
 than the others; and I had a tribunal to judge 
 him, and soldiers to shoot him. I never did a use- 
 less act in my life. 
 
 My authority increased because it had been 
 threatened. Nothing in France was prepared for 
 a counter-revolution. The public regarded the in-
 
 40 
 
 trigues of the royalists as only calculated to bring 
 on the horror of civil war and anarchy. The peo- 
 ple wished at any price to avert these evils, and 
 rallied round me, because I promised to defend 
 them. France sought repose under the shelter of 
 my sword. The public voice (history will not 
 contradict me), the public voice called me to the 
 throne of France. 
 
 The republican form of government could no 
 longer exist, because ancient monarchies will not 
 be converted into republics. The desire of France 
 was national greatness. To raise and sustain the 
 edifice of national greatness, it was requisite to 
 destroy faction, to consolidate the labours of the 
 revolution, and to fix irrevocably the limits of the 
 state. I alone promised France to fulfil these con- 
 ditions. France called me to reign over her. 
 
 I could not become a king; the title was worn 
 out; it excited definite and preconceived ideas; 
 but it was important that my title, like the nature 
 of my power, should be new. I was not the heir 
 of the Bourbons. No common man could venture 
 to sit on their throne. I took the name of Em- 
 peror because it was greater, and less defined. 
 
 Never was revolution so peaceable as that 
 which overturned the republic for which so much 
 blood had been shed. It was because the thing 
 was still the same; the name alone was changed.
 
 41 
 
 On these grounds the republicans did not dread 
 the empire. 
 
 Besides, such revolutions as do not interfere 
 with the interests of individuals are always peace- 
 able. 
 
 The revolution was at length accomplished. It 
 became inexpugnable under a permanent dynasty. 
 The republic had only satisfied opinion; the em- 
 pire guaranteed private interest as well as public 
 opinion. 
 
 These interests were those of an immense ma- 
 jority, because the empire confirmed equality. 
 Democracy, both in fact and in right, existed. 
 Liberty alone had been restricted, because it is 
 worse than useless in moments of danger. But 
 liberty is of no use to any but the enlightened part 
 of a nation ; equality is valuable to all. Hence my 
 power remained popular even amidst the reverses 
 that overwhelmed France. 
 
 My authority did not rest, like that of the old 
 monarchies, upon a scaffolding of castes and sub- 
 ordinate ranks ; it was immediate and self -de- 
 pendant; for the empire consisted only of the na- 
 tion and me. But in that nation all were equally 
 called to the exercise of public functions. The 
 point of departure was no obstacle. A disposition 
 upwards was universal in the state, and in this 
 disposition consisted my strength.
 
 42 
 
 I did not invent this system ; it arose out of the 
 ruins of the Bastile. It is the result of the moral 
 civilization which time has wrought in Europe; 
 all attempts to destroy it will be vain: it will be 
 maintained by the nature of things, because prac- 
 tice will always ultimately be found to conform to 
 power. Now power was taken out of the hands of 
 the nobility from the moment they had permitted 
 the third estate to carry arms, from the moment 
 they had declined serving as the sole militia of 
 the state. 
 
 Power had abandoned the clergy from the time 
 when, by beginning to reason, the people had be- 
 come virtually protestants. Power had abandoned 
 government precisely because the nobility and 
 clergy were disabled from fulfilling their offices, 
 that is to say, because they could no longer sup- 
 port the throne. Routine and prejudice had also 
 lost their power, because routine and prejudice 
 had been unmasked before the people. 
 
 The social compact was dissolved long before 
 the revolution, because things and words had 
 ceased to coincide. 
 
 The downfall of prejudice had laid bare the 
 sources of power; its weakness was discovered; 
 it fell on the first assault. 
 
 Authority was therefore to be built up again 
 upon a new plan. The whole train of habits and
 
 43 
 
 prejudices were to be passed over: that mental 
 blindness, called faith, was to be of no avail. 
 There were no inherited rights, but every thing 
 was to rest upon fact that is, power. 
 
 Thus I did not mount the throne like the heir 
 of an ancient dynasty, to sit there luxuriously un- 
 der the shadow of habit and illusion : but I placed 
 myself there to execute the institutions willed by 
 the people ; to wield the law under the sanction of 
 moral right; and to render France formidable, in 
 order to maintain her independence. 
 
 The opportunity was soon afforded. England 
 was tired of seeing my troops upon the coast. She 
 resolved to get rid of them, and, purse in hand, 
 she sought allies on the continent. She could not 
 fail to find them. 
 
 The ancient dynasties were appalled at seeing 
 me on the throne. Whatever civilities might pass 
 between us, it was too clear that I was not one of 
 them; for I reigned by virtue of a system which 
 must break down the altar time had consecrated 
 to them. I was of myself a revolution. The em- 
 pire was not less dreadful to them than the re- 
 public: in fact they feared it more for it was 
 more healthy. 
 
 It was policy to attack me as soon as possible, 
 before I attained to my full strength.
 
 44 
 
 The chances of the struggle 'about to take 
 place were of the last importance to me. I was 
 to learn the very measure of the hatred I inspired. 
 I was to learn which were the sovereigns whom 
 fear would force to fall in with the system of the 
 empire, and which of them would perish rather 
 than tamper with it. 
 
 This struggle could not but lead to new po- 
 litical combinations in Europe. I was to fall, or to 
 become its master. 
 
 I had just annexed Piedmont to France, be- 
 cause it was necessary that Lombardy should be 
 dependant on the empire. The cry was raised 
 against ambition; the lists were prepared for the 
 fight; the act of annexation was the signal for it. 
 
 The battle could not fail of being obstinate. 
 The Austrians assembled all their forces, and the 
 Russians were determined to join with all theirs. 
 
 The young Alexander had just ascended the 
 throne : as children like to do the contrary of what 
 their fathers have done, he declared war against 
 me, because his father had made peace. For we 
 had as yet no quarrel with the Russians ; but the 
 women and the courtiers had settled the matter. 
 They thought they were only acting in good 
 taste, because I was not the fashion in the great 
 world ; while, unconsciously, they were laying the
 
 45 
 
 foundations of the system to which Russia will 
 one day owe her greatness. 
 
 The coalition never opened a campaign more 
 awkwardly. The Austrians fancied they could 
 take me by surprise, but their scheme was unsuc- 
 cessful. 
 
 They overran Bavaria without waiting for the 
 Russians; by forced marches they reached the 
 Rhine. My columns had quitted the camp of 
 Boulogne; they were marching through France; 
 we crossed the Rhine at Strasbourg. My ad- 
 vanced guard met the Austrians at Ulm, and 
 routed them. I marched upon Vienna by the high 
 road; I entered it without an obstacle. An Aus- 
 trian general had forgotten to destroy the bridges 
 over the Danube. I crossed the river; I should 
 have done so at all events, but I was the sooner 
 in Moravia. 
 
 The Russians were but just coming up: the 
 wreck of the Austrians sought safety under their 
 banners. The enemy attempted to make a stand 
 at Austerlitz, he was beaten. The Russians re- 
 tired in good order, and left me the empire of 
 Austria. 
 
 The Emperor Francis demanded an inter- 
 view ; I granted him one in a ditch. He sued for 
 peace I gave it him ; for what could I have made 
 of his dominions? they were not moulded for the
 
 46 
 
 revolution. But, to weaken him, I demanded 
 Venice for Lombardy, and the Tyrol for Bavaria, 
 that I might reward my friends at the expense of 
 my enemies, it was the least I could do. 
 
 It was, however, not a time to dispute; peace 
 was signed. I proposed the same terms to the 
 Russians : Alexander refused them. 
 
 This was noble: for by accepting peace he 
 would have accepted the humiliation of Austria. 
 
 By refusing he shewed firmness under calam- 
 ity, and confidence in fortune. The refusal itself 
 taught me that the fate of the world would de- 
 pend on us two. 
 
 The campaign was renewed: I followed the 
 Russians in their retreat. A new theatre opened 
 itself to our arms. I was going to see the old 
 ground of anarchy and of liberty bent under the 
 yoke of a stranger: the Poles only waited my ar- 
 rival in order to throw it off. 
 
 The greatest error I committed during my 
 reign was neglecting the advantages I might have 
 derived from the Poles. Nevertheless I perceived 
 the importance of restoring Poland, that it might 
 be a barrier against Russia, and counter-balance 
 Austria; but circumstances were not at that time 
 favourable for realising such a plan. 
 
 Besides, the Poles did not appear to me fit for 
 my designs. They are an enthusiastic but frivol-
 
 47 
 
 ous people. They do every thing from fancy 
 nothing from design: their enthusiasm is strong, 
 but they can neither regulate nor prolong it. The 
 nation bears about its ruin in its character. 
 
 Perhaps by giving the Poles a plan, a system, a 
 fixed object, they might have formed themselves 
 in time. 
 
 Although my disposition was not to do things 
 by halves, I did no more in Poland, and I re- 
 pented it. I advanced in the midst of winter to- 
 wards the north ; the climate did not at all alarm 
 the soldiers; their moral state was excellent. I 
 had to fight an army, master of its own ground, 
 and in its own climate. It awaited me on the 
 frontiers of Russia; I pursued it there, that my 
 troops might not languish and waste in wretched 
 cantonments. I met the enemy at Eylau : the af- 
 fair was bloody and indecisive. 
 
 If the Russians had attacked us the next day, 
 we should have been beaten; but happily their 
 generals are seldom inspired. They gave me time 
 to attack them at Friedland, victory was less 
 doubtful. Alexander had defended himself val- 
 iantly, he proposed peace. It was honourable 
 to both nations, for they had struggled with equal 
 bravery. Peace was signed at Tilsit; it was in 
 the spirit of good faith : I attest the Czar himself. 
 
 Such was the issue of the first efforts of the
 
 48 
 
 coalition against the empire I had just founded. 
 It raised the glory of our arms, but it left the 
 question undecided between Europe and me, for 
 our enemies had only been humbled; they were 
 neither destroyed nor changed. We were at the 
 point whence we set out; and when I signed the 
 articles of peace, I foresaw a new war. 
 
 War was inevitable as long as the chances 
 brought about no new combinations, and as long 
 as England should have a personal interest in 
 prolonging it. 
 
 But it was important to make use of the tem- 
 porary tranquillity I had restored on the con- 
 tinent, to enlarge the basis of my empire, that it 
 might be possessed of sufficient solidity to resist 
 a future attack. The throne was hereditary in my 
 family, which thus began a new dynasty, that 
 time, which has legitimated so many others, might 
 consecrate. From the days of Charlemagne no 
 crown had been bestowed with equal solemnity. I 
 had received it with the consent of the people and 
 the sanction of the church: my family, called to 
 the throne, could not remain mingled among the 
 ordinary classes of society it would have been 
 an incongruity. 
 
 I was rich in conquests. It was requisite to 
 unite these states intimately with the system of the 
 empire, in order to increase its preponderance.
 
 49 
 
 There are no bonds between nations but those of 
 common interest. Therefore a community of in- 
 terests between us and the conquered countries 
 was absolutely necessary. To accomplish this 
 end, I had only to assimilate their ancient social 
 constitution to ours, and to place at the head of 
 these new institutions rulers interested in keep- 
 ing them up. 
 
 I answered these purposes by placing my fam- 
 ily on the vacant thrones. 
 
 Lombardy was the most important of these 
 states, because the house of Austria must for ever 
 regret it, and it was too near to be forgotten. I 
 did not choose to do it the favour of placing one 
 of my brothers on its throne. I alone was able to 
 bear the iron crown, and I put it upon my head. 
 
 By this measure I gave confidence to the Lom- 
 bards, for by it I took their affairs into my own 
 hands. 
 
 The new state received the name of the king- 
 dom of Italy, because the title was greater, and 
 spoke more directly to the imagination of the 
 Italians. 
 
 The throne of Naples was vacant. Queen Car- 
 oline, after having deluged the streets of Naples 
 with blood, and given up the kingdom to the Eng- 
 lish, had been driven out a second time. That un- 
 happy country needed a master to save it from
 
 50 
 
 anarchy and from the effects of revenge. One of 
 my brothers ascended the throne. 
 
 Holland had long lost the energy which con- 
 stitutes a republic. She had no longer sufficient 
 strength to play the part. There had been proofs 
 of this, at the time of the invasion in 99. I had no 
 reason to suspect that the Prince of Orange was 
 regretted, from the manner in which he had been 
 treated. Holland, then, seemed to need a sover- 
 eign. I gave her another of my brothers. 
 
 The youngest was young enough to wait. The 
 fourth had no desire for a crown; he had fled to 
 avoid one. 
 
 No republic remained but Switzerland. It was 
 not worth while to change the form to which its 
 people were accustomed The only use I made of 
 my authority in that country was to prevent their 
 cutting each other's throats. They were not par- 
 ticularly grateful. 
 
 But while thus forming states in alliance with 
 France, and dependant on the empire, it became 
 necessary to incorporate with the mother coun- 
 try other portions of territory, in order to pre- 
 serve its preponderance in the system. 
 
 For this reason I joined Piedmont to France, 
 and not to Italy. I also added to it Genoa 
 and Parma. These additions were worthless in 
 themselves, for I might have made good Italians
 
 51 
 
 of these people; they became but sorry French- 
 men. But the empire did not consist of France 
 alone, but of the family estates, and of foreign 
 allies. It was essential to keep a certain propor- 
 tion between these elements. Every new alliance 
 required a new annexation. At every step the 
 people raised the cry of ambition. But my am- 
 bition did not consist in wishing for a few square 
 leagues, more or less, of land, but in the triumph 
 of my cause. 
 
 Now this cause consisted not solely in opinion, 
 but in the weight that either party could place 
 in the balance, and these square leagues were of 
 consequence in the scale, because the world is 
 made up of such. 
 
 Thus I augmented the mass of power that I set 
 in motion. It required neither talent nor address 
 to bring about these changes. An act of my will 
 sufficed; for these nations were too petty to have 
 one of their own when I appeared. They de- 
 pended on the momentum given to the aggregate 
 of the imperial system. The radiating point of 
 that system was France. 
 
 My work required consolidation by giving 
 France new institutions conformable to the new 
 social order she had adopted. The age was to be 
 created anew for me, as I had been for it.
 
 52 
 
 I had to become a legislator, after having been 
 a warrior. 
 
 It was not possible to make the revolution re- 
 trace its steps; for that would have been making 
 the strong submit anew to the weak, which is un- 
 natural. I had, therefore, to seize the spirit of 
 the times, and to form an analogous system of leg- 
 islation. I think I succeeded the system will sur- 
 vive me; and I have left Europe an inheritance 
 which she can never now alienate. 
 
 There was in fact nothing in the state but a 
 huge democracy, swayed by a dictator. This kind 
 of government is convenient as to the executive 
 part; but its nature is temporary, because power 
 is but a life rent in the hands of a dictator. I 
 sought to make it perpetual, by lasting institu- 
 tions and corporations for life, that I might place 
 them between the throne and the democracy. I 
 could do nothing with the old implements of cus- 
 tom and delusion. I was obliged to create every 
 thing anew by realities. 
 
 Thus I was forced to found my legislature 
 upon the immediate interests of the majority, and 
 to create my corporations by that interest, be- 
 cause interest is of all earthly things the most 
 real and durable. 
 
 I made laws, the activity of which was stu- 
 pendous, but uniform. Their principle was to
 
 53 
 
 maintain equality. This is so strongly impressed 
 upon my code, that it of itself will suffice to pre- 
 serve it. 
 
 I instituted an intermediate caste. It was 
 democratical, because it was open always and to 
 all; it was monarchical, because it could not die 
 out. 
 
 This body was to perform that part in the new 
 system which the nobility had acted in the old; 
 that is, to support the throne. But it resembled 
 it in nothing. The old nobility existed entirely by 
 privilege. Mine had nothing but power. The old 
 nobility had no merit but that of being exclusive. 
 Every man who had distinguished himself had a 
 right to belong to the new: it was in fact only a 
 civic crown. The people attached no other idea 
 to it. Every member had deserved it by his ac- 
 tions; every man might obtain it at the same 
 price; it was offensive to none. 
 
 The spirit of empire was the main spring of 
 action; it is the characteristic of revolutions. It 
 agitated the whole nation. It appeared almost in 
 a state of conspiracy, that it might rise. I held 
 out great rewards to this extraordinary activity; 
 they were bestowed by public gratitude. The 
 highest honours were still conformable to the 
 spirit of equality; for the meanest soldier might 
 obtain them by a brilliant action.
 
 54 
 
 After the confusion of the republic, it was of 
 consequence to re-establish good order, because 
 it is the sign of strength and durability. 
 
 Ministers and judges were essential to the 
 state, because on them alone the maintenance of 
 good order, that is, in other words, the execution 
 of the laws depend. I included them in the move- 
 ments of the people and the army. I included 
 them also in the same system of rewards. I 
 erected an order which should confer distinction 
 upon ministers ; because it had received the brevet 
 of honour from the soldiers. I made it common 
 to all the servants of the public, because the first 
 of virtues is devotion to one's country. 
 
 Thus I converted the spring of empire into a 
 general bond; which united all the classes in the 
 nation by a mutual interest ; for no class was sub- 
 ordinate, no class was exclusive. An interme- 
 diate body, culled from the flower of the nation, 
 formed around me. It was attached to the im- 
 perial system by its avocations, its interests, and 
 its opinions. This numerous body, although in- 
 vested with the civil and military power, was ac- 
 knowledged by the people, because it was chosen 
 from among themselves. They confided in it, be- 
 cause their interests were the same with its own. 
 This body was neither oppressive nor exclusive. 
 It was in reality a magistracy.
 
 55 
 
 The empire rested on a vigorous organization. 
 The army had been formed in the school of war, 
 where it had learned to fight and to suffer. 
 
 The civil magistrates had accustomed them- 
 selves to a strict execution of the laws, because 
 I forbad either compromise or explanation. Thus 
 they became possessed of practice and dispatch. I 
 had given a regular and uniform impulse, because 
 there was but one watch-word throughout the em- 
 pire. Thus every spring in the machine was in 
 motion, but the movements took place only within 
 the bounds I had assigned. 
 
 I put a stop to public dilapidation by making 
 one central point for all exchequer business. I left 
 nothing vague in this department; because every 
 thing should be clear with regard to money. I 
 left nothing in the power of the demi-responsible 
 provincial officers, because I had found, by ex- 
 perience, that such a plan serves only to enrich a 
 few petty peculators at the expense of the treas- 
 ury, the people, and the government. 
 
 I redeemed public credit by taking nothing on 
 credit. 
 
 For the system of loans, which had ruined 
 France, I substituted that of taxation, which has 
 supported it. 
 
 I organized the conscription a severe but 
 grand law, and well worthy of a people which
 
 56 
 
 cherishes its glory and its liberty, for it should en- 
 trust its defence to none hut itself. 
 
 I opened new channels of commerce. I joined 
 Italy to France by cutting through the Alps in 
 four different places. The works of that kind, 
 which I undertook, appear almost impossible. 
 
 I caused agriculture to prosper by maintain- 
 ing the laws which protect private property, and 
 by distributing the public burdens equally. 
 
 I added great monuments to those already 
 possessed by France. They were to be the memor- 
 ials of its glory. I thought they would ennoble 
 the minds of our descendants. The people become 
 attached to these proud land-marks of their his- 
 tory. 
 
 My throne shone only with the lustre of arms. 
 The French love grandeur even in its outward 
 show. I caused palaces to be decorated. I as- 
 sembled a numerous court: I gave it a character 
 of austerity, for any other would have been in- 
 congruous. There were no amusements at my 
 court. Therefore women played but an insignifi- 
 cant part, where every thing was consecrated to 
 the state. Indeed they always detested me for that 
 reason. Louis XV. suited them much better. 
 
 My great work was hardly sketched out when 
 a new enemy appeared unexpectedly in the lists. 
 
 Prussia had remained at peace for ten years;
 
 57 
 
 France had been grateful for it; the allies were 
 enraged at it: they had abused her, but she had 
 prospered. 
 
 Her neutrality had been of peculiar import- 
 ance to me during the last campaign; to secure it 
 I had made some overtures respecting a cession of 
 Hanover. I thought such an offer amply compen- 
 sated for a small violation of territory which I 
 had permitted myself, in order to accelerate the 
 march of a division which I was in haste to get to 
 the Danube. 
 
 England had rejected the proposals for peace 
 which we had transmitted to her according to our 
 custom, when we signed the treaty of Tilsit. 
 Prussia demanded the cession of Hanover. 
 
 I asked no better than to bestow such a boon 
 upon her ; but I thought it high time for her court 
 to declare itself frankly for us, by embracing our 
 system in good earnest. We could not do every 
 thing by the sword; policy owed us some allies; 
 and this appeared a fair opportunity for gaining 
 one. 
 
 But I perceived that Prussia had no such in- 
 tentions, and that she thought I was amply repaid 
 by her neutrality. It therefore became absurd to 
 aggrandise a country I could not depend upon. I 
 was out of humour; and did not calculate suffic- 
 iently that, by giving territory to Prussia, I should
 
 58 
 
 compromise her, that is, make sure of her. I re- 
 fused every thing, and Hanover was otherwise dis- 
 posed of. 
 
 The Prussians complained loudly because I 
 would not give them the property of another. 
 They murmured at the slight violation of their 
 territory the preceding year. They suddenly 
 found out that they were the guardians of the 
 glory of Frederick the Great; they grew warm. 
 A sort of national tumult agitated the nobility; 
 England hastened to subsidize them, and their 
 movements acquired consistency. 
 
 If the Prussians had attacked me while I was 
 at war with Russia, they might have done me a 
 serious injury ; but it was so absurd to come, right 
 or wrong, and declare war against us, more in the 
 manner of a school-boy's rebellion than any thing 
 else, that it was some time before I could credit it. 
 
 Nothing was, however, more true; and we 
 were again obliged to take the field. 
 
 I certainly expected to beat the Prussians ; but 
 I thought it would take more time. I took meas- 
 ures against such aggressions as I suspected might 
 be made against me in other quarters ; but I found 
 them unnecessary. 
 
 By a singular chance, the Prussians did not 
 hold out two hours. By another accident their 
 generals had never thought of defending places
 
 59 
 
 that might have held out three months. I was 
 master of the country in a few days. 
 
 The celerity of this overthrow proved to me, 
 that the war had not been popular in Prussia. I 
 ought to have profited by this discovery, and to 
 have organized Prussia after our own plans; but 
 I did not know how to set about it. 
 
 The Empire had acquired an immense pre- 
 ponderance by the battle of Jena. The public be- 
 gan to look upon my cause as won : I perceived it 
 by the change of measures towards me: I began 
 to believe the same thing myself; and this opinion 
 made me commit some errors. 
 
 The system on which I had founded the empire 
 was innately at variance with all the ancient 
 dynasties. I knew that there must be mortal 
 strife between them and me. Vigorous means 
 were therefore to be taken to shorten it as much 
 as possible, in order to gain the suffrages of kings 
 and nations. 
 
 On the one hand I should have changed the 
 form and personal government of all the states 
 that war placed at my disposal, because revolu- 
 tions are not brought about by keeping the same 
 men and the same measures. I was certain, by 
 the very act of maintaining those governments, of 
 having them always against me: it was recalling 
 my enemies to life.
 
 60 
 
 If, on the other hand, I chose to retain the old 
 governments for want of better, I ought to have 
 made them accomplices in my greatness, by forc- 
 ing them to accept of titles and territory together 
 with my alliance. 
 
 By following either of these plans, according to 
 circumstances, I should have extended the fron- 
 tiers of the revolution rapidly. Our alliances 
 would have been solid, because they would have 
 been made with the people : I should have bestowed 
 on them the advantages, together with the prin- 
 ciples, of the revolution: I should have removed 
 the scourge of war which had afflicted them for 
 twenty years, and which ended by raising them 
 all against us. 
 
 It is most probable that the majority of the 
 nations of the continent would have accepted this 
 grand alliance, and Europe would have been re- 
 cast on a new plan analogous to the state of her 
 civilization. 
 
 I reasoned well, but my practice was contrary 
 to my reasoning. Instead of changing the Prus- 
 sian dynasty, as I had threatened, I restored their 
 estates, after having parcelled them out. Poland 
 was not pleased, because I did not free the portion 
 of her territory that Prussia had seized. The 
 kingdom of Westphalia was discontented at not
 
 61 
 
 obtaining more; and Prussia, enraged at what I 
 had taken away, vowed eternal hatred towards 
 me. 
 
 I fancied, I know not why, that kings, dis- 
 possessed by the right of conquest, might become 
 grateful for any part of their dominions that 
 might be left them. I fancied that they might, 
 after all their reverses, become sincere allies, be- 
 cause it was safest to do so. I fancied that I 
 might thus extend the connexions of the empire 
 without taking on myself the odium of revolution. 
 I thought there was something noble in taking 
 away and restoring crowns. I allowed myself to 
 be seduced by it. I was mistaken, and such faults 
 can never be repaired. 
 
 I tried at least to correct what I had done in 
 Prussia, by organising the confederation of the 
 Rhine, because I hoped to keep one in check by 
 the other. To form this confederation, I ag- 
 grandised the states of some sovereigns, at the ex- 
 pense of those of a rabble of petty princes, who 
 answered no end but that of dissipating the money 
 of their subjects, without doing them any good. I 
 thus attached to my cause the sovereigns whose 
 power I had enlarged, by the very interest of their 
 aggrandizement. I made them conquerors in spite 
 of themselves. But they found the trade agree 
 with them. They were sufficiently willing to make
 
 62 
 
 common cause with me, and they were faithful to 
 that cause as long as it was possible. 
 
 The continent was thus at peace for the fourth 
 time. I had extended the surface and the weight 
 of the Empire. My immediate power extended 
 from the Adriatic to the mouths of the Weser : my 
 power over opinion throughout all Europe. 
 
 But Europe felt, as I did, that this pacification 
 was only a provisional work; because there were 
 too many resisting elements, and that in treating 
 with these resistances, which I was in the wrong 
 to do, I had only put off the evil day. 
 
 England was the vital principle of resistance. 
 I had no means of attacking it hand to hand, and 
 I was sure that the continental war would be per- 
 petually renewed as long as the English ministry 
 had wherewith to pay its expenses. This might 
 last a good while, as the profits of the war would 
 feed the war. It was a vicious circle, the result 
 of which must be the ruin of the Continent. A 
 means was therefore to be devised for destroying 
 the profits which England derived from maritime 
 war, in order to ruin the credit of the English 
 ministry. To this end the continental system was 
 proposed to me. I thought it good, and adopted it. 
 Few people understood that system; they deter- 
 mined to see nothing in it but a scheme to raise
 
 63 
 
 the price of coffee. Its design was widely differ- 
 ent. 
 
 It was to have ruined the trade of England. 
 But in that it failed of its purpose, because it, like 
 other prohibitions, produced increased prices, 
 which are always favourable to commerce; and 
 because it could not be so complete as to prevent 
 a contraband trade. 
 
 But the continental system was also to answer 
 the purpose of plainly marking out our friends 
 and foes. There could be no deception here. At- 
 tachment to the continental system betokened at- 
 tachment to our cause, because that system was at 
 once our banner and palladium. 
 
 This contested system was indispensable at the 
 time I adopted it; for a great empire must not 
 only have a general tendency to direct its policy, 
 but its economy ought to have a parallel direction. 
 Industry must have a vent like every thing else, 
 in order to act and to advance. Now France had 
 none at the time I opened one by establishing the 
 continental system. 
 
 Before the Revolution the economy of France 
 had been turned towards the colonies, and ex- 
 change. It was the fashion of the day. It had 
 great success. But however much that success 
 might be extolled, its only consequence was the 
 ruin of the state finance, the destruction of public
 
 64 
 
 credit, the overthrow of the military system, the 
 loss of all respect abroad, and the ruin of agri- 
 culture. And finally, these successes had led 
 France to sign a treaty of commerce, which made 
 her dependant on England for supplies. 
 
 France, indeed, possessed fine seaports, and 
 some merchants of enormous fortune. 
 
 The maritime system had been completely 
 destroyed by the war; the sea-ports were ruined: 
 no human power could restore to them what the 
 revolution had annihilated. It therefore required 
 a fresh impulse to be given to the spirit of trade, 
 in order to revive the domestic industry of 
 France. The only means to accomplish this was 
 to deprive England of the monopoly of manufac- 
 tures, to create a manufacturing interest, and to 
 include it in the general economy of the state. I 
 was forced to create the continental system. 
 
 Nothing less than this system could avail, be- 
 cause the manufactures required an enormous 
 premium to induce capitalists to advance the sums 
 necessary for the establishment of the whole 
 manufactories of a country. 
 
 The event was in my favour; I removed the 
 seat of industry, and made it cross the sea. It 
 has made such rapid strides on the Continent, that 
 it has now nothing to fear. If France wishes to 
 thrive, let her keep my system, and change its
 
 65 
 
 name ; if she chooses to fall off, let her engage in 
 maritime pursuits, which the English will destroy 
 the first time they go to war. I was forced to 
 carry the continental system to extremities, be- 
 cause I had in view not only the good of France, 
 but the annoyance of England. We could receive 
 colonial produce only through her, whatever flag 
 might be borrowed for the occasion, therefore we 
 received as little as possible. There was no bet- 
 ter way of doing this than raising the prices to an 
 extravagant height. The political end was ful- 
 filled ; the exchequer gained by it, but it drove the 
 old woman to despair, and they have had their re- 
 venge. Daily experience proved the expediency 
 of the continental system, for the state flourished 
 in spite of the burden of the war. The taxes were 
 entire; public credit was equal to the interest of 
 money ; the spirit of improvement appeared in ag- 
 riculture as well as manufactures; country vil- 
 lages, not less than the streets of Paris, were re- 
 built; roads and canals encouraged the industry 
 of the interior; some new improvement appeared 
 weekly: I made sugar from turnips, and soda 
 from salt. The development of science kept pace 
 with industry. 
 
 It would have been folly to depart from a sys- 
 tem at the very moment when it was producing its 
 fruits. It required to be strengthened rather,
 
 66 
 
 that it might have a greater hold on commercial 
 emulation. 
 
 This influenced the policy of Europe, inasmuch 
 as it obliged England to carry on the war. From 
 that moment the war assumed a serious character 
 in England; it threatened the fortune of the pub- 
 lic, that is, its very existence. It became popular. 
 The English ceased to commit their defence to for- 
 eign auxiliaries ; they took it upon themselves, and 
 appeared on the Continent in large bodies. The 
 struggle had never been perilous till then. I 
 foersaw it when I signed the decree. I sus- 
 pected that all repose was at an end for me, and 
 that my life would be spent in wrestling with ob- 
 stacles which the public had lost sight of, but of 
 which I possessed the secret, because I am the only 
 man whom appearances never deceived. In my 
 heart I flattered myself that I should be master of 
 the future, by means of the army I had formed, 
 so invincible did success seem to have made it. It 
 never doubted of victory ; it was easily moved, be- 
 cause we had exploded the system of camps and 
 magazines. It could be transported in any direc- 
 tion at a moment's warning; and wherever it ar- 
 rived it felt a conscious superiority. With such 
 soldiers, where is the general who would not have 
 loved glory ? I loved it, I own ; and yet, since the 
 battle of Jena I had never felt that plentitude of
 
 67 
 
 confidence, that contempt of consequences, to 
 which I owed my first successes. I distrusted my- 
 self ; that distrust made me uncertain in my decis- 
 ions : my temper was ruffled, my character lowered. 
 I did command myself, but what is not natural is 
 never perfect. 
 
 The continental system had determined the 
 English to war with us even to the death. The 
 North was subdued and overawed by my garri- 
 sons. The English had no connection with it but 
 in smuggling; but Portugal had been given up 
 to them; and I knew that Spain, under the mask 
 of neutrality, favoured her commerce. 
 
 But that the continental system should be of 
 real use, it required to be complete. I had nearly 
 accomplished it in the north ; it was of consequence 
 to cause it to be respected in the south. I de- 
 manded a passage through Spain for a division of 
 troops I wanted to send into Portugal. It was 
 granted. At the approach of my troops the court 
 of Lisbon embarked for the Brazils, and left me 
 its kingdom. I required a military road through 
 Spain to communicate with Portugal. This road 
 connected us with Spain. Till then I had never 
 thought of that country, on account of its inef- 
 ficiency. 
 
 The political state of Spain was at that time 
 alarming; it was governed by the most incapable
 
 68 
 
 of sovereigns : a brave and worthy man, whose en- 
 ergies went no farther than to secure implicit 
 obedience to the favourite. The favourite, with- 
 out character and without talents, had neither pur- 
 suit nor energy, but what were employed in inces- 
 sant demands for titles and riches. 
 
 The favourite was devoted to me, because he 
 found it convenient to govern under the shadow 
 of an alliance with me. But he had conducted af- 
 fairs so ill, that his credit had sunk in Spain. He 
 could no longer command obedience. His devo- 
 tion became unavailing. 
 
 Public opinion in Spain had been proceeding in 
 a line contrary to that of the rest of Europe. The 
 people, which every where else had risen to the 
 level of the revolution, had remained here far be- 
 neath it; enlightened notions had not even pene- 
 trated to the second layer of the nation. They 
 had remained on the surface; that is, they were 
 confined to the highest classes. These felt the 
 degradation of their country, and blushed to obey 
 a government which was debasing their native 
 land. They were called the Liberales. 
 
 Thus the revolutionists in Spain were those 
 who might lose by a revolution; and those who 
 had all to gain would not hear of it. The same 
 incongruity operated at Naples. It made me com-
 
 69 
 
 mit many errors, because I was not then possessed 
 of the key to the mystery. 
 
 The presence of my troops in Spain was an 
 event. Every body set about interpreting it. Peo- 
 ple were occupied by it. Some fermentation ap- 
 peared. I soon learned it. The liberates were sen- 
 sible of the humiliation of their country; they 
 thought to prevent its ruin by a conspiracy: the 
 conspiracy succeeded. 
 
 It went no further than forcing the old king 
 to abdicate, and punishing his favourite. Spain 
 was no gainer by the exchange, for the son they 
 placed on the throne was no better than the father. 
 I am well informed at least on that head. 
 
 The conspiracy had scarcely succeeded, when 
 the conspirators took fright at their own daring. 
 They were afraid of themselves, of me, of every 
 body. The monks disapproved of the violence 
 committed against their old king, because it was 
 illegitimate. I disapproved of it no less, but for 
 a different reason. Fear took possession of the 
 new court; the spirit of revolt seized the people, 
 and anarchy the state. 
 
 The natural course of things had thus brought 
 about a change in Spain ; a revolution in fact was 
 begun. It could not be of the same nature as that 
 in France, because it was composed of different 
 elements. But till then it had no direction, be-
 
 70 
 
 cause it had neither chief nor partizan before- 
 hand. It was as yet only a suspension of author- 
 ity; a subversion of power; in short, disorder. 
 
 There was nothing to be predicted concerning 
 Spain, but that with so ignorant and fierce a peo- 
 ple a revolution could not be accomplished with- 
 out torrents of blood and a long series of calam- 
 ity. 
 
 But what was the end proposed by those who 
 wished for a change in Spain? It was not a revo- 
 lution like ours : it was an efficient government : a 
 rational authority which might remove the rust 
 which obscured their country, and restore it to 
 consideration abroad, and civilization at home. 
 
 I was able to give them both, by making my- 
 self master of their revolution at the point to 
 which they had brought it. The object was to give 
 Spain a dynasty, which should be strong because 
 it was new, and enlightened because it should 
 bring with it no prejudices. Mine combined these 
 qualities. I therefore resolved to bestow this 
 crown also upon it. 
 
 The most difficult step towards this end was 
 taken that of getting rid of the old dynasty. 
 Now the Spaniards had allowed their old king to 
 be forced to abdicate the crown, and they would 
 not acknowledge the new one. Every thing there- 
 fore seemed to promise, that in order to avoid an-
 
 71 
 
 archy, Spain would be glad to accept a sovereign 
 armed with a prodigious power. By that means 
 it would have easily stept into the imperial circle ; 
 and however deplorable the social state of Spain 
 might be, it was a conquest not to be neglected. 
 
 As, in order to form a just idea of things, one 
 should see them one's self, I set out for Bayonne; 
 to which place I had invited the old Spanish court. 
 As it had nothing better to do, it came. I had also 
 invited the new court. I really did not expect it to 
 arrive, because it had something much better to 
 do. 
 
 I had calculated, that to prevent Ferdinand 
 from meeting either his father or me, they would 
 have led him to revolt, or engaged him to go to 
 America. But he did neither, but came to Bay- 
 onne with his tutor and courtiers, leaving Spain 
 to the first comer. 
 
 This single step gave me the measure of the 
 court. I had scarce spoken to the heads of the 
 conspiracy, when I perceived their total ignorance 
 of their real situation. They were prepared for 
 nothing, therefore saw nothing; their policy 
 seemed like the blind leading the blind*. I had 
 scarcely seen the king they had set upon the 
 
 * Us menaient leur politique comme les quinze vingt, i. e. 
 the inhabitants of the asylum for the blind so named.
 
 72 
 
 throne before I was satisfied that Spain ought not 
 to be left in such hands. 
 
 I then resolved to accept the abdication of this 
 family, and to place one of my brothers on the 
 throne now abandoned by its old possessors ; they 
 had descended from it so easily, that I thought he 
 might mount it with as little difficulty. 
 
 In fact, nothing seemed to oppose it ; the Junta 
 of Bayonne had acknowledged him ; no legal pow- 
 er remained in Spain to refuse the change; the 
 old king seemed grateful to me for taking the 
 throne from his son, and had retired quietly to re- 
 pose himself at Compiegne. His son was con- 
 ducted to the castle of Valencay, where all neces- 
 sary preparations had been made for his recep- 
 tion. 
 
 The Spaniards knew exactly what they had 
 parted with in their old king; he left behind him 
 neither regret nor remembrance; but the son was 
 yet young ; his reign had been hoped for. He was 
 unfortunate ; they converted him into a hero : im- 
 agination exerted itself in his favour. The Lib- 
 erales clamoured for national independence; the 
 monks talked of legitimacy: the whole nation 
 armed itself under these two pretexts. 
 
 I confess I was wrong to shut up the young 
 king at Valencay. I ought to have allowed him to
 
 73 
 
 shew himself, in order to undeceive those who took 
 an interest in him. 
 
 I was especially in the wrong not to let him 
 stay upon the throne. Things would have grown 
 worse and worse in Spain. I should have ac- 
 quired the title of protector of the old king, by 
 giving him an asylum. The new government could 
 not have failed to commit itself with England. I 
 should have declared war both on my own account, 
 and as plenipotentiary for the old king. Spain 
 would have trusted her army to fight her battles, 
 and as soon as I had beaten it, the nation must 
 have submitted to the right of conquest. It would 
 not even have dreamed of murmuring, because in 
 disposing of a conquered country one only follows 
 established customs. 
 
 If I had been more patient I should have fol- 
 lowed this plan, but I thought that the result being 
 the same, the Spaniards would accept beforehand 
 a change of dynasty which the state of affairs ren- 
 dered inevitable. I managed this affair awkward- 
 ly, because I passed over the regular gradations. 
 I had displaced the ancient race of kings in a way 
 offensive to the Spaniards. Their wounded pride 
 would not acknowledge the race I had put in its 
 stead. The result was, that there was no author- 
 ity any where, or rather it was every where. The 
 whole nation fancied itself called upon to defend
 
 74 
 
 the state, since there was neither army nor author- 
 ity to which that defence could be committed. 
 Each man took the responsibility on himself ; I had 
 created anarchy, and found all the resources it can 
 furnish turned against me. The whole nation fell 
 upon me. 
 
 The Spanish nation, whose history records 
 nothing but acts of avarice and ferocity, was not 
 formidable face to face with an enemy. Its people 
 fled at the very sight of our soldiers, but they 
 stabbed them in the back. They were exasperated, 
 and used reprisals. One reprisal caused a second, 
 and the war became a tissue of atrocity. 
 
 I felt that it gave a character of violence to my 
 reign. That it was an example dangerous to the 
 people, and fatal to the army; because it con- 
 sumed the men and fatigued the soldiers. 
 
 I felt that I had begun ill; but when once a 
 war was fairly entered upon, it was impossible to 
 abandon it: for the very smallest reverse gave 
 spirit to my enemies, and all Europe instantly got 
 under arms. I was obliged to be always victor- 
 ious. 
 
 It was not long before I was put to trial. 
 
 I had gone to Spain in order to accelerate 
 events, and to examine the ground on which I had 
 to leave my brother. I had occupied Madrid, and 
 destroyed the English army which was advancing
 
 75 
 
 to its relief. My success was rapid : terror was at 
 its height ; resistance seemed about to cease ; there 
 was not an instant to lose; neither was any time 
 lost. The English ministry armed Austria. They 
 were always as active in raising enemies as I 
 could be in beating them. 
 
 This time the intrigues of Austria were skil- 
 fully conducted ; they took me by surprise. I must 
 give praise where it is due. 
 
 My troops were scattered at Naples, at Madrid, 
 at Hamburg. I myself was in Spain. It was 
 probable that the Austrians might have been suc- 
 cessful in the first instance. This success might 
 have led to more, for in these cases the first step 
 is usually the difficulty. They might have 
 tempted Prussia and Kussia; re-animated the 
 courage of the Spaniards, and restored popularity 
 to the English ministry. 
 
 The court of Vienna maintains a tenacious pol- 
 icy, that is never disconcerted by passing events. 
 It was long before I discovered the reason. I per- 
 ceived, a little too late, indeed, that this policy was 
 so deeply rooted, only because the good nature of 
 the government had allowed the state to degener- 
 ate into an oligarchy. The country is led by about 
 a hundred noblemen; they possess the soil, and 
 have seized upon the exchequer, the cabinet, and 
 the army, by which means they are the real rulers,
 
 76 
 
 and have left to the court no more than the hon- 
 our of the signature. 
 
 Now oligarchies never change their opinions, 
 because their interest is always the same. They 
 do every thing ill ; but they always continue doing, 
 because they cannot die out. They never succeed ; 
 but they support reverses admirably, because they 
 support them in concert. 
 
 Austria has owed her safety four times to this 
 form of government: it decided for the war she 
 had just declared against me. 
 
 I had not a moment to lose. I left Spain 
 abruptly, and flew to the Rhine. I got together 
 the troops nearest at hand: Prince Eugene had 
 allowed himself to be beaten in Italy : I sent him 
 some reinforcements. The kings of Swabia and 
 Bavaria lent me their troops ; with them I beat the 
 Austrians at Ratisbon, and marched towards 
 Vienna. 
 
 I advanced by forced marches along the right 
 bank of the Danube ; I depended on the viceroy to 
 secure our junction. I intended to get before the 
 Austrians to Vienna, to cross the Danube there, 
 and to take up a position to receive the arch- 
 duke. 
 
 This plan was well conceived; but it was im- 
 prudent, because I had to cope with a man of tal-
 
 77 
 
 ent, and because I had not enough troops. But 
 fortune was then on my side. 
 
 In return, the archduke made a very able 
 movement: he divined my object, and gained upon 
 me. He threw himself rapidly upon Vienna by 
 the left bank of the Danube, and took up his posi- 
 tion at the same time with me. As far as I know, 
 this is the only able movement the Austrians ever 
 made. 
 
 My plan had failed : I was in presence of a for- 
 midable army : it commanded my movements, and 
 forced me to remain inactive. Nothing now but 
 a great battle could put an end to the war. It was 
 my business to attack ; the archduke had given me 
 that part to play : it was not easy ; for he was in a 
 position to receive me. 
 
 By an unhoped for piece of good fortune, the 
 archduke John, who should, at all hazards, have 
 kept back the viceroy, allowed himself to be beat- 
 en. The army of Italy drove him from the other 
 side of the Danube, and we gained the assistance 
 of its right wing. 
 
 But as we could not remain there for ever, we 
 were obliged to come to action. I caused pon- 
 toons to be thrown across the river. The army 
 began to move. Marshal Massena's division was 
 the first that crossed; he began his fire, when an 
 accident carried away the pontoons. It was im-
 
 78 
 
 possible to replace them in time to sustain him: 
 he was attacked by the whole hostile army. The 
 division maintained its ground with valour which 
 might be called heroic, for it was hopeless. Their 
 ammunition had failed : they were on the point of 
 destruction when the Austrians ceased firing, 
 thinking that sufficient to the day was the evil 
 thereof. They recovered their position at a de- 
 cisive moment, and delivered me from the most 
 cruel anxiety. 
 
 Nevertheless, we had sustained a reverse of 
 fortune : I perceived it by the state of public opin- 
 ion. My defeat was published ; the details were re- 
 peated; my fall was foretold. The Tyrolese had 
 revolted : we had been obliged to send the Bavarian 
 army to that country. Parties had taken up arms 
 in Prussia and Westphalia, and spread themselves 
 over the country, in order to excite revolt. The 
 English undertook an expedition against Antwerp, 
 which might have succeeded, but for their own 
 folly. My situation grew daily worse. 
 
 At length I succeeded in throwing fresh bridges 
 over the Danube. The army crossed the river dur- 
 ing a dreadful night. I was present at the crossing, 
 for I was uneasy about it. It answered complete- 
 ly; our columns had time to form, and that great 
 day arose with happy omens.
 
 79 
 
 The battle was grand ; for it was well disputed. 
 But the generals did not make any great efforts of 
 genius, because they commanded large masses 
 upon a flat plain. It was long doubtful. The in- 
 trepidity of our troops, and the bold manoeuvre of 
 Macdonald, decided the fortune of the day. 
 
 Once broken, the Austrian army marched off in 
 disorder, by a long plain, on which it lost a great 
 many men. I pursued them vigorously, because I 
 wished to decide the campaign. Beaten in Mora- 
 via, there was no resource but to sue for peace, 
 and I granted it to them for the fourth time. 
 
 I trusted that it would be lasting, because peo- 
 ple get tired of being beaten, as they do of every 
 thing else; and because there was a considerable 
 party in Vienna, who argued in favour of a final 
 alliance with the empire. 
 
 I wished for peace, because I felt the expedi- 
 ency of giving some respite to the people : for, in- 
 stead of feeling the advantages of the revolution, 
 they had as yet seen only its horrors. We were no 
 longer protectors, as at the beginning of the war; 
 and in order to accustom the public opinion of 
 Europe to the nature of my power, it was not po- 
 litic to shew it always in its hostile aspect. 
 
 The enemy's party assured the populace that 
 they were only arming to deliver them from the
 
 80 
 
 evils of war, and to lower the price of English 
 goods. 
 
 These insinuations made proselytes. The war 
 diminished the popularity of the revolution. 
 Therefore I desired peace ; but it was necessary to 
 obtain the consent of the English ministry: Aus- 
 tria undertook to ask it. They refused. 
 
 This refusal gave me great anxiety. England 
 must have felt within herself resources which I 
 could not comprehend. I endeavoured to discover 
 what these were, but in vain. 
 
 Instead of laying down my arms, I was forced 
 to keep up my war establishment, and to weary all 
 Europe. I was so much the more annoyed at it, 
 as the allies had all the honour of the war, though 
 I had the success. For they had the innocent air 
 of defending those things that are called legit- 
 imate, because they are old. I, on the other hand, 
 appeared the aggressor, because I fought to de- 
 stroy these, and to set up what was new. The 
 whole weight of the accusation lay on me. 
 
 Yet the war of the revolution was but the result 
 of the situation of Europe. It was the crisis 
 which changed its manners. It was the inevitable 
 consequence of the transit from one social system 
 to another. If I had been the inventor of the sys- 
 tem, I should have been guilty of the evils it 
 brought about. But it was invented by nobody. It
 
 81 
 
 was produced by the current of the times. This 
 current had silently made way for the Revolution, 
 as it had done for the Reformation, and the evils 
 that followed upon it. War depended no more 
 upon me than upon the allies. It depended on the 
 nature which the Almighty has impressed upon hu- 
 man beings. 
 
 England continued the war without auxiliaries, 
 but not without allies, for every enemy to revolu- 
 tion was such. We had an open field to fight on in 
 Spain. I sent back my troops there, but I did not 
 go back myself. I was wrong: because nobody 
 does one's business so well as one's self. But I was 
 tired of all this commotion ; and I, from that time, 
 began to meditate a project that might give a new 
 character to my reign. 
 
 But before I could accomplish this, the enemy 
 embarrassed me in a quarter from which I had no 
 apprehension. The north was occupied by my 
 troops. The English were not strong enough to at- 
 tack me in that point. It was in the Mediterranean 
 that their navy ensured them superiority. They 
 possessed Malta, and commanded Sicily, the 
 shores of Spain, Africa, and Greece. They sought 
 to profit by all these advantages. 
 
 They endeavoured to excite a re-action in Italy, 
 and convert it, if possible, into a second Spain. 
 There were discontented persons every where, for
 
 82 
 
 I had not been able to give every body their 
 ancient rights, combined with the advantages of 
 the new system. There were such in Italy as well 
 as elsewhere. The clergy had no affection for me, 
 because my reign had put an end to theirs. The 
 devotees followed their example, and detested me. 
 The rabble partook of the same feelings, because 
 the clergy are still possessed of influence in Italy. 
 The head quarters of this opposition was Rome, as 
 it was the only town in Italy where it could hope 
 to escape my observation. Thence it held com- 
 munications with the English; it instigated to re- 
 volt; it insulted me in anonymous pamphlets; it 
 promulgated false reports. It procured recruits 
 for England; it kept in pay the banditti of Car- 
 dinal Ruff a, for the purpose of assassinat- 
 ing Frenchmen; it attempted to blow up the pal- 
 ace of the minister of police at Naples. It was 
 clear that the English had a plot upon Italy, and 
 that they fomented these disturbances. 
 
 I could not permit this ; I could not suffer the 
 French to be insulted and murdered. I contented 
 myself, however, with making complaints at va- 
 rious times to the Holy See. I received civil 
 answers to beg I would take the thing patiently. 
 As my temper was never very patient, I saw that 
 there was a decided hostility against us, and that I
 
 83 
 
 must outstrip it to prevent its exploding. I oc- 
 cupied Borne with my troops. 
 
 Instead of allaying the effervescence, this meas- 
 ure, which was perhaps a little violent, irritated 
 the public. It however secured the tranquillity of 
 Italy, and quashed the schemes of Lord W. Ben- 
 tinck. But, in secret, the whole class of devotees 
 did every thing that hatred and the spirit of the 
 church could inspire against me. 
 
 This centre of conspiracy had ramifications in 
 France and Switzerland. The clergy, the malcon- 
 tents, the partizans of the old order of things (for 
 there were still such) had united to intrigue 
 against my authority, and to do me every possible 
 injury. They no longer appeared as conspirators ; 
 they had borrowed the standard of the church, and 
 they used its thunders instead of cannon. It was 
 their watch-word and their war-cry. It was a sort 
 of orthodox free-masonry, which I could not lay 
 hold on at any given point, because it pervaded all 
 places. 
 
 Besides, it was difficult to attack these people 
 in detail, because it would have been a persecu- 
 tion; but that is the business of the weak, not of 
 the strong. I thought I could disperse the party 
 by an alarming display of power. I determined to 
 shew my resolution, and teach them that I chose to
 
 84 
 
 maintain order and authority, and that I scrupled 
 at nothing to accomplish my purpose. 
 
 I knew that nothing could be so severe a blow 
 upon the party as to separate it from the head of 
 the church. I hesitated long before I adopted this 
 resolution, because it was against my wishes ; but 
 the longer I delayed it, the more necessary it be- 
 came to decide. I considered that Charles V. who 
 was more religious than me, and not so powerful, 
 had dared to make a Pope prisoner. He was no 
 worse for it, and I thought I might at least attempt 
 as much. The Pope was carried off from Kome, 
 and conveyed to Savona. Borne was annexed to 
 France. 
 
 This stroke of policy sufficed to confound the 
 schemes of the enemy. Italy remained quiet and 
 obedient to the last moment of the empire. But the 
 war of the church was pursued with equal inveter- 
 acy. The zeal of the devotees was rekindled. It 
 became a secret but venomous spirit against me. 
 In spite of all my precautions I could not prevent 
 their communicating with Savona, and receiving 
 instructions. The monks of La Trappe, of Fri- 
 bourg, conducted this correspondence; it was 
 printed in their house, and circulated from priest 
 to priest throughout the empire. It became nec- 
 essary to remove the Holy Father to Fontain- 
 bleau, and to expel the monks of La Trappe, to
 
 85 
 
 put a stop to these communications. After all, I 
 believe I did not succeed. 
 
 This petty war had a bad effect, because I 
 could not prevent it from wearing the appearance 
 of a persecution. I had been obliged to proceed 
 with severity against unarmed persons, and, in 
 spite of myself, to make victims of them. These 
 unhappy disputes with the church forced upon me 
 five hundred state prisoners; political occasions 
 never made fifty. I was in the wrong throughout 
 this affair; I was strong enough to have left the 
 feeble at liberty, and I occasioned a great deal of 
 evil by attempting to prevent it. 
 
 A great project occupied the state. It ap- 
 peared to me to be of a nature to consolidate my 
 empire by placing me in a new situation with re- 
 gard to Europe. I expected important results 
 from it. 
 
 My power was no longer contested; it only 
 wanted the character of perpetuity, which it could 
 not have as long as I had no heir. Without an 
 heir my death would have been a moment of dan- 
 ger to my dynasty; for authority must have no 
 period fixed beforehand, if it is not to be con- 
 tested. 
 
 I perceived the necessity of separating myself 
 from a wife by whom I could no longer hope for 
 posterity. I hesitated on account of the misery of
 
 86 
 
 quitting the person whom I best loved ; it was long 
 before I could resolve upon it. But she proposed 
 it herself, with that devotedness of affection 
 which she always displayed towards me. I ac- 
 cepted the sacrifice, because it was indispensable. 
 The simplest policy pointed out to me an alliance 
 with the house of Austria. The court of Vienna 
 was tired of reverses. By uniting itself irrevoc- 
 ably with me, it placed its safety in my custody. 
 By this alliance it became an accomplice in my 
 greatness, and from that moment it became as 
 much my interest to support it as it had been here- 
 tofore to subdue it. By this alliance we produced 
 the most formidable mass of power that had ever 
 existed; we surpassed the Roman empire. The 
 alliance was formed. 
 
 On the continent there was nothing without 
 our pale, but Eussia, and the wreck of Prussia: 
 the rest was at our disposal. So vast a prepon- 
 derance ought to have discouraged our enemies; 
 and without vanity I might now have considered 
 my work as accomplished, and that I had placed 
 my throne beyond the reach of accident. 
 
 My calculations were just: but passion never 
 calculates. Meantime appearances were in my 
 favour. The continent was quiet, and seemed to be 
 becoming accustomed to the sight of my crown ; it 
 at least appeared so by the homage paid me. It
 
 87 
 
 was so respectful, that a more discerning person 
 than myself might have been deceived by it. The 
 respect in which the blood of the house of Aus- 
 tria was held, rendered my reign legitimate in the 
 eyes of the sovereigns of Europe; and I believed 
 that the title of the son, which the Empress had 
 just borne, to the throne, would not be disputed. 
 
 There were no disturbances any where but in 
 Spain, where the English were in great force. 
 But that war gave me no uneasiness, because I 
 was resolved to be even more obstinate than the 
 Spaniards, and with time any thing may be ac- 
 complished. 
 
 The empire was strong enough to carry on the 
 Spanish war without inconvenience. It neither 
 put a stop to the decorations with which I was 
 embellishing France, nor to the useful undertak- 
 ings which we were pursuing. The administration 
 of justice was improving. I was organising in- 
 stitutions which might ensure the strength of the 
 empire, by educating a generation for the pur- 
 poses of its support. 
 
 The necessity of maintaining the continental 
 system was the only source of dispute with such 
 governments as had coasts adapted for smuggling. 
 Among these Russia was in a delicate situation: 
 its civilization was not sufficient to enable it to do 
 without English goods. I had nevertheless in-
 
 88 
 
 sisted on their being prohibited ; it was an absurd- 
 ity, but it was necessary to complete the system of 
 exclusion. A contraband trade commenced; I 
 foresaw it, because the Eussian government <loes 
 not watch well. But as shut doors are always 
 more difficult to pass through than open ones, 
 smuggling never introduces near so many goods 
 as a free trade. I thus obtained two-thirds of my 
 object ; however, I did not complain the less : they 
 attempted to justify themselves, and then began 
 anew, we became angry; such a state of things 
 could not last. 
 
 In fact, since our alliance with Austria, a trial 
 of strength with Eussia had become inevitable. 
 Eussia could not but perceive that our political 
 union could have no enemy but herself, for we 
 were masters of all the rest of Europe. She must 
 therefore content herself with a complaisant non- 
 entity, or attempt to make head against us and 
 maintain her rank. She was too strong to consent 
 to be nothing ; but she was too feeble to resist us ; 
 in the alternative it was better to assume an at- 
 titude of defiance than to acknowledge herself con- 
 quered beforehand. This latter part is always 
 the worst to take : Eussia decided for the former. 
 
 I began to feel suddenly that there was some 
 haughtiness in the transactions with Petersburg. 
 They refused to seize the contraband goods : they
 
 89 
 
 complained that I had occupied the lands of Old- 
 enburgh. I replied in the same tone. It was clear 
 that we were about to quarrel, for neither of us 
 were patient, and we were strong enough to fight. 
 
 I was very confident as to the issue of the 
 war; because I had conceived a plan by which I 
 hoped to put an end for ever to the long struggle 
 in which I had consumed my life. Besides, I 
 thought that at the point to which we had now at- 
 tained, the sovereigns of Europe had no direct in- 
 terest in the conflict, for our interests had been 
 identified; the policy of the princes should now 
 have been in my favour, for it was no longer my 
 office to shake thrones, but to strengthen them. 
 I had added new strength to royalty, and in that 
 I had wrought for them. They were sure of reign- 
 ing while in alliance with me, equally sheltered 
 from war and from revolution. 
 
 This policy was so palpable, that I thought the 
 sovereigns clear-sighted enough to perceive it. I 
 never distrusted them. Who in fact would have 
 guessed that, seduced by their hatred against me, 
 they would have abandoned the cause of the 
 throne, and themselves have brought back a rev- 
 olution among their people, to which they will 
 sooner or later fall a sacrifice ! 
 
 I had calculated that Russia was too large a 
 body to make part of the European system which
 
 90 
 
 I had recast, and of which France was the centre. 
 I therefore determined to exclude her from 
 Europe, that she might not disturb the unity of 
 my system. The new political line of demarca- 
 tion required to be strong enough to resist the 
 whole weight of Russia. That country was to be 
 forced back within the limits she had occupied a 
 hundred years ago. 
 
 Nothing but the immense mass of my empire 
 could have been vigorous enough to attempt such 
 an act of political violence. But I believe it was 
 possible, and I believe it to be the only means of 
 securing the world from the Cossacks. 
 
 To succeed in this plan it was necessary to re- 
 organise Poland on a sound basis, and to beat the 
 Russians in order to force them to accept the new 
 frontier that was to be traced with the point of 
 the sword. Russia might without disgrace have 
 accepted the peace which was to fix these fron- 
 tiers, because there was nothing offensive to her 
 in the arrangement. It was an avowal of her 
 strength and of our fear. 
 
 Thus placed by my precautions without the 
 European pale separated from our common- 
 wealth by 300,000 guardians, Russia might have 
 united with England. She would have preserved 
 her political independence and her national ex- 
 istence in all their integrity; because she would
 
 91 
 
 have been as much out of our way as the kingdom 
 of Thibet. 
 
 This was the only rational plan. Sooner or 
 later its ruin will be regretted: for Europe, ar- 
 ranged by mutual consent in a uniform system, 
 re-cast on the model required by the spirit of the 
 age, would have offered the grandest spectacle 
 that history had ever presented. But too many 
 interested prejudices blinded the eyes of its sove- 
 reigns to allow them to perceive the danger 
 where it really existed. They fancied they saw it 
 where the only safeguard could arise. 
 
 I set out for Dresden. This war was to decide 
 irrevocably on the question which had been de- 
 bated for twenty years ; it was to be the last : for 
 beyond Eussia the world ends. Our enemies had 
 but a moment: they therefore made a last effort. 
 The court of Austria began with deranging my 
 plans for Poland, by refusing to give up her share 
 of it. I fancied myself obliged to keep up ap- 
 pearances with regard to her, and that instance 
 of weakness ruined my scheme: for from the mo- 
 ment I yielded that point it was impossible to set 
 openly about the independence of Poland. I was 
 obliged to portion out the country on which the 
 safety of Europe was to depend. By this weak- 
 ness I spread distrust and discontent among the 
 Poles. They saw that I sacrificed them to my
 
 92 
 
 own convenience. I felt my error, and was 
 ashamed of it. I refrained from going to War- 
 saw, because I had nothing then to do there. I 
 had nothing now to depend on for the future fate 
 of the Polish nation but the victories I might ob- 
 tain. 
 
 I knew that boldness often ensures success. I 
 thought it might be possible to do in one campaign 
 what I had intended to have done in two. This 
 haste pleased me for my temper had become anx- 
 ious and impatient. I was at the head of an army 
 which knew no feeling but that of glory no home 
 but a field of battle. Instead of making sure of 
 my ground, and advancing by gradual but cer- 
 tain steps, I traversed Poland and crossed the Nie- 
 men. I beat the armies that opposed me; I 
 marched on without a halt, and I entered Moscow. 
 
 It was the last day of my good fortune. It 
 should have been the last of my life. 
 
 Master of a capital that the Russians had left 
 me in ashes, I might have hoped that they 
 would acknowledge themselves beaten, and accept 
 the advantageous terms of peace I offered. But, 
 at that moment, fortune abandoned our cause. 
 England brought about a peace between Russia 
 and the Sublime Porte, which gave Russia the 
 disposal of her whole force. A Frenchman whom 
 chance had raised to the throne of Sweden be-
 
 93 
 
 trayed the interests of his country, and allied him- 
 self with its enemies in hopes of bartering Fin- 
 land for Norway. 
 
 He himself traced out the Eussian plan of de- 
 fence ; and England prevented the court of Peters- 
 burg from accepting peace. I was astonished at 
 the delay of its conclusion. The season was ad- 
 vancing. It became evident that there was no in- 
 tention of peace. The moment I was sure of this, 
 I gave orders for a retreat. The elements ren- 
 dered it severe. The French acquired honour by 
 the firmness with which they supported their re- 
 verses. Their courage never left them but with 
 their life ! 
 
 Shocked myself at their disasters, I was ob- 
 liged to recollect that a sovereign ought never 
 either to bend or weep. 
 
 Europe was still more astonished at my mis- 
 fortunes than it had been at my success. But I 
 was not to be deceived by its apparent stupor. I 
 had lost the half of that army which had over- 
 awed it. It might hope to overcome the remainder, 
 for the proportions of our forces were altered. 
 I foresaw, therefore, that the moment the first 
 surprise was over, I should again find the eternal 
 coalition in arms; its shouts of joy had already 
 reached me. 
 
 The moment of defeat is an unfavourable one
 
 94 
 
 for the conclusion of peace. However, Austria, 
 who was comforted for my humiliation, because 
 by it her share of our alliance became more val- 
 uable, Austria proposed peace. She offered her 
 mediation: it was refused: she had thrown away 
 her credit. 
 
 I must therefore again be victorious: I felt 
 sure of being so when I perceived that the public 
 feeling of France went along with me. Never did 
 history present a great people in a fairer light : 
 afflicted at their losses, but eager to repair them. 
 In three months it was done. This single fact is 
 a sufficient answer to the clamours of such as feel 
 no triumph but in the disasters of their country. 
 
 France perhaps owes to me, in part, the proud 
 station she maintained in her hour of misfortune ; 
 and if in my whole career there is a time which 
 deserves the esteem of posterity, it is that, for it 
 was most painful to bear. 
 
 I appeared then at the opening of the cam- 
 paign as formidable as ever. The enemy was sur- 
 prised at the sudden re-appearance of my eagles : 
 the army I commanded was more warlike than ac- 
 customed to war; but it was the heir of a long 
 series of glory, and I led it up to the enemy with 
 confidence. I had a great task to perform, to re- 
 establish our military credit, and to renew the 
 struggle which had been so near its conclusion. I
 
 95 
 
 still possessed Italy, Holland, and most of 
 the states of Germany. I had lost but little 
 ground; but England redoubled her efforts. 
 Prussia waged an insurgent war against us. The 
 princes of the confederation were ready to join 
 the strongest, and as I still continued so, they fol- 
 lowed my standard, though languidly. Austria at- 
 tempted to maintain a neutral dignity, while G-er- 
 many was overrun with fire-brands, who spirited 
 up the people against us. My whole system tot- 
 tered. 
 
 The fate of the world depended on chance ; for 
 there was no plan. A battle would decide it 
 Russia was to fight this battle, because she was 
 strong and in earnest. 
 
 I attacked the Prusso-Bussian army, and I 
 beat it three times. 
 
 As my success deranged the plans of the fa- 
 vourites of England, they affected to abandon all 
 hostile intentions, and commissioned Austria to 
 propose peace. 
 
 The conditions were, in appearance, support- 
 able, and many others in my place would have ac- 
 cepted them. For they only demanded the resti- 
 tution of the Illyrian provinces and the Hanse 
 towns; the nomination of independent sovereigns 
 in Italy and Holland; the evacuation of Spain, 
 and the restoration of the Pope to Borne. They
 
 96 
 
 were to have treated for the renunciation of the 
 confederation of the Rhine and the mediation of 
 Switzerland; but they were permitted to yield 
 these two articles. 
 
 I must have been greatly lowered in public 
 opinion, since they dared, after three victories, 
 to ask me to give up countries that they had not 
 yet even ventured to threaten. 
 
 If I had consented to this peace, the fall of the 
 empire would have been more sudden than its rise. 
 By the map, indeed, it would still have been great; 
 but, in fact, it would have been nothing. Austria, 
 by taking upon herself the office of mediatrix, 
 broke through our alliance, and united herself to 
 the enemy. By restoring the Hanse towns, I 
 should have shewn that I could give back my pos- 
 sessions, and every body would have been for sim- 
 ilar restitutions; I should have caused insurrec- 
 tions in every country. By evacuating Spain, I 
 should have encouraged every species of resist- 
 ance. By resigning the iron crown, I should have 
 compromised that of the empire. The chances of 
 peace were all against me; those of war might, 
 perhaps, save me. 
 
 To say the truth, too great successes, and too 
 great reverses, had marked the course of my his- 
 tory, to make it possible for me to put off the de- 
 cision to another day. The great Revolution of
 
 97 
 
 the 19th century must either be accomplished ir- 
 revocably, or be buried under a mountain of the 
 dead. The whole world was present to decide the 
 question. Had I signed peace at Dresden, I 
 should have left it undecided, and it must have 
 come forward a little later. I must have recom- 
 menced the long career of success, that I had al- 
 ready gone through; I must have recommenced 
 it, although my youth was gone My empire, to 
 which I had promised rest, was wearied of the 
 war, and ready to blame me for not accepting 
 peace. 
 
 It was better, however, to take advantage of 
 this critical moment, when the fate of the world 
 depended upon the issue of a single battle; for, 
 had I been victorious, the world would have been 
 mine again. 
 
 I refused peace. As every one prefers seeing 
 with his own eyes, Austria saw nothing but my 
 imprudence, and thought the moment favourable 
 for going over to the enemy. I was not, however, 
 certain of this defection, till the very last mo- 
 ment; but I was well able to sustain it. My plan 
 for the campaign was fixed. Its result would 
 have been decisive. 
 
 The worst of great armies is, that the general 
 cannot be every where. My manoeuvres were, I 
 think, the very best I had ever combined; but
 
 98 
 
 General Vandamme quitted his post, and was 
 taken. Eager to make himself a Marshal of the 
 Empire, M' Donald nearly drowned himself in the 
 land-floods; Marshal Ney let himself be quietly 
 beaten: My plan was overthrown, in a very few 
 hours. 
 
 I was beaten; I gave orders for a retreat; 
 I was still strong enough to act offensively, by 
 changing my ground ; I did not choose to lose the 
 advantage of all the places I occupied; for, by a 
 single victory, I should still have been master of 
 the North, as far as Dantzick; I therefore rein- 
 forced all my garrisons, with orders to hold out to 
 the last. They obeyed my orders. 
 
 I retired, slowly, with a large body of troops; 
 but still I retired, and the enemy followed, in- 
 creasing at every step, for nothing fills the ranks 
 like success. All the hatred that time had treas- 
 ured up burst forth at once. The Germans re- 
 volted to be revenged for the evils of war the 
 moment was propitious ; I was beaten. As I fore- 
 saw, the enemy appeared to spring out of the 
 earth. I awaited them at Leipzig, on those very 
 plains where they had been beaten just before. 
 
 Our position was not good, because we were at- 
 tacked in a semi-circle. Victory itself could be 
 of little use to us. In fact, the first day we had 
 the advantage; but were unable to renew the at-
 
 99 
 
 tack. It was a drawn battle, and we had to begin 
 again. The army fought well, in spite of fatigue ; 
 but then, by an act which posterity will designate 
 as it pleases, the allies, who were in our ranks, 
 turned suddenly against us, and we were con- 
 quered. 
 
 We set out for France ; but so mighty a retreat 
 could not be conducted without disorder: exhaus- 
 tion and hunger destroyed many of our men. The 
 Bavarians, after having deserted from our stand- 
 ard, attempted to cut off our retreat into France. 
 The French marched over their dead bodies, and 
 gained Mayence. This retreat cost us as many 
 men as that from Russia. 
 
 Our losses were so tremendous, that I myself 
 was appalled. The nation was overwhelmed. If 
 the enemy had pursued their march, they would 
 have entered Paris with our rear guard: but the 
 sight of France dismayed them: they long looked 
 at our frontiers before they dared to pass them. 
 
 The question was no longer glory, but the hon- 
 our of France: I therefore relied on the French. 
 But I was unfortunate ; I was ill served. I do not 
 accuse the people; they are always ready to shed 
 their blood for their country. I accuse no one of 
 treachery, for it is more difficult to betray than 
 people believe. I only accuse that despondency 
 which is the result of misfortune: I was not free
 
 100 
 
 from it myself. He who is discouraged is unde- 
 cided, because he perceives before him only a 
 choice of evils; and indecision is the worst of ills 
 in matters of importance. 
 
 I ought to have distrusted this general de- 
 gradation more, and to have looked to every thing 
 myself. But I depended on a frightened ministry, 
 which did every thing ill. The fortresses were 
 neither repaired nor provided, for they had not 
 been threatened for twenty years. The zeal of the 
 peasants victualled them; but the greater part of 
 the commandants were old invalids, who had 
 been sent to them for repose. Most of my prefects 
 were timid, and thought of packing up their goods 
 instead of defending them. I ought to have 
 changed them in time, that none but brave men 
 might have appeared in my front ranks, if, indeed, 
 such are to be found among those who have any 
 thing to lose. 
 
 Nothing was as yet ready for our defence, 
 when the Swiss gave up to the allies the passage 
 across the Rhine. Notwithstanding their victories, 
 the enemy had not dared to advance boldly; they 
 crept on with caution: they were alarmed at 
 marching without resistance through a country 
 they had conceived to be so thick set with bayo- 
 nets. They did not meet our advanced guard till 
 they reached Langres: then began that campaign
 
 101 
 
 which is too well known to need repetition; but 
 which has left an immortal name to the handful of 
 brave men who would not despair of the salva- 
 tion of France. They restored me to confidence; 
 and three times I believed that nothing was im- 
 possible with such soldiers. 
 
 I had still an army in Italy, and strong gar- 
 risons in the north; but I had no time to call 
 them up : I must conquer on the spot. The fate of 
 Europe hung on my person ; there was not an im- 
 portant point but that on which I stood. 
 
 So doubtful were the allies of success, that 
 they offered me peace. After having refused it at 
 Dresden, I could not accept it at Chatillon. Be- 
 fore I could make peace I must save France, and 
 reinstate our eagles on the Rhine. 
 
 After such a proof, our army would have been 
 held invincible: our enemies would have trembled 
 at the fatality which gave me victory. Still mas- 
 ter of the south, and of the north by my garri- 
 sons, a single battle would restore my ascendancy ; 
 and I should have had the glory of reverses, as 
 well as that of victory. 
 
 This result was prepared; my manoeuvres had 
 succeeded: the enemy was turned: he was losing 
 himself. A general action would have ended every 
 thing. One moment more but my fall was fated: 
 a dispatch which I had imprudently sent to the
 
 102 
 
 empress fell into the hands of the allies ; it shewed 
 them their danger. A Corsican who happened to be 
 in their council shewed them that prudence was 
 more dangerous than boldness. They took the only 
 measure which I had not foreseen, because it was 
 the only good one. They outstripped me, and 
 marched upon Paris. 
 
 They had received promises that their en- 
 trance should be favoured ; but this promise would 
 have been unavailing, if I had left the defence of 
 the capital in better hands. I had confided in the 
 honour of the nation, and I had madly left those 
 at liberty who I knew were without it. I arrived 
 too late with succours, and that city, which has 
 never defended either its monarchs or its walls, 
 had opened its gates to the strangers. 
 
 I accused General Marmont of having betrayed 
 me : I now do him justice : no soldier betrayed the 
 fidelity he owed his country; such wretches were 
 found among a different class. But I was not 
 master of myself, nor of my grief, when I saw the 
 capitulation of Paris signed by my ancient brother 
 in arms. 
 
 The cause of the revolution was no more from 
 the moment I was conquered. It was neither the 
 royalists, nor the cowards, nor the malcontents, 
 who had overthrown me. The allies were the mas-
 
 103 
 
 ters of the world, since I was no longer able to 
 dispute the title with them. 
 
 I was at Fontainbleau, surrounded by a small 
 but faithful band. I might have tried the chance 
 of battle with it still, for it was capable of heroic 
 actions. But France would have paid too dear for 
 the pleasure of revenge. She would have justly 
 had to accuse me of her sufferings. I wish her to 
 have nothing to accuse me of but the glory to 
 which I raised her name. I was resigned. 
 
 They proposed different acts of abdication to 
 me; I felt this to be a mummery. I had abdicated 
 on the day on which I was conquered. But the 
 formula might one day be of use to my son. I 
 did not hesitate about signing it. 
 
 A numerous party would have wished that in- 
 fant to be placed upon the throne, that the revo- 
 lution might be maintained, together with my dy- 
 nasty. But the thing was impossible. Even the 
 allies had no choice. They were obliged to recal 
 the Bourbons. Every one boasted of having 
 brought about their restoration : but it was forced. 
 It was the immediate consequence of the princi- 
 ples for which they had been fighting for twenty 
 years. By assuming the crown, I had placed the 
 throne out of the reach of the mob. By restoring 
 it to the Bourbons, they placed it out of the reach 
 of a fortunate soldier. It was the only means of
 
 104 
 
 putting out the revolutionary fire for ever. The 
 putting any other sovereign on the throne of 
 France would have been a solemn recognition of 
 the principle of the revolution ; in other words, an 
 act of insanity on the part of the sovereigns. 
 
 I will say more: the return of the Bourbons 
 was a blessing to France. It saved her from an- 
 archy; and promised repose, because it ensured 
 peace. It was necessary between the allies and the 
 Bourbons, because they guaranteed each other. 
 France was not a party in that peace; because it 
 was not made in her favour, but in favour of a 
 family that it suited the allies to replace on the 
 throne. It was a treaty intended to satisfy every 
 body. Therefore it was the best manner in which 
 France could have risen from the greatest defeat 
 ever sustained by a warlike nation. 
 
 I was a prisoner, and expected to be treated as 
 such ; but either from that kind of respect inspired 
 by a veteran warrior, or from the spirit of gen- 
 erosity which pervaded this revolution, they al- 
 lowed me to choose an asylum. The allies granted 
 me an island, and a title, that they regarded as 
 equally vain. They permitted me (and in so do- 
 ing their generosity was truly noble) to take with 
 me a small number of those ancient soldiers with 
 whom I had passed through such various fortune.
 
 105 
 
 They permitted me to take a few of those men 
 whom misfortune cannot discourage. 
 
 Separated from my wife and child, against 
 every law divine and human, I retired to the Isle 
 of Elba, without any kind of project for the fu- 
 ture. I had become a mere spectator of the age. 
 But I knew, better than any man, into what hands 
 Europe was about to fall; and I therefore knew 
 that it would be guided by chance; the turns of 
 such a chance might bring me again into play. 
 But the want of power to contribute towards it 
 prevented me from forming any plans, and I lived 
 like a stranger to the story. But the tide of 
 events rolled on more rapidly than I had expect- 
 ed, and it came upon me in my retreat. 
 
 I received the daily papers: I learned from 
 them the external state of affairs. I tried to seize 
 their spirit, through the mist of false representa- 
 tions. 
 
 It was evident to me that the king had discov- 
 ered the secret of the age. He had discovered that 
 France had chosen the revolution. He had dis- 
 covered by five and twenty years experience that 
 his party was too weak to resist the majority. He 
 knew that the majority will always make the law. 
 He must therefore reign with the majority, that 
 is, by and with the revolution. But that he might 
 not become a revolutionist himself, the king was
 
 106 
 
 obliged to remodel the revolution by virtue of the 
 divine right which he inherited. 
 
 The idea was ingenious ; it made the Bourbons 
 revolutionists with a safe conscience, and made 
 the revolutionists royalists by supporting their 
 interests and opinions. There was to be but one 
 heart and one soul in the nation. The phrase was 
 in every mouth, but it could not be true. 
 
 There was, however, so much felicity in this 
 combination, that France under its reign would 
 have been flourishing in a very few years. The 
 king, by a single stroke of the pen, might have 
 solved the problem for which I had been fighting 
 for twenty years ; since he might have established 
 the new political economy of France, and caused it 
 to be recognised without dissent by all Europe. In 
 order to succeed, the only requisite art was that of 
 knowing how to be master at home. 
 
 To bring about this great work, the king had 
 granted a charter, cast in the mould of all other 
 charters. It was excellent they are all excellent 
 when they are put in practice. But as charters are 
 only skins of parchment, they are of no value but 
 by the authority which takes their execution upon 
 itself. Now this authority resided no where: in- 
 stead of concentrating it in the only responsible 
 hands, the king allowed it to be frittered away 
 among the party which was called by his name.
 
 107 
 
 Instead of being the sole head of the state, he al- 
 lowed himself to be made the head of a party; 
 every thing in France assumed a factious appear- 
 ance. Anarchy appeared. 
 
 From that moment there was nothing but in- 
 consistency and contradiction in the court. 
 Words never agreed with things, because the 
 courtiers in their hearts wished for things differ- 
 ent from those which existed. 
 
 The king had granted the charter that it might 
 not be forced from him; but it was evident that 
 the royalists hoped to unravel it thread by thread, 
 because in truth it did not suit them. 
 
 They had only therefore erected temporary 
 piers for the arch of government; they had re- 
 modelled the nobility, but they had given it neither 
 privilege nor power. It was not democratic, for 
 it was exclusive ; it was not aristocratic, for it was 
 a cypher in the state: it was, therefore, an injury to 
 the nobility to have re-established it on such a 
 footing ; for they had set it up to be attacked, be- 
 cause it was offensive, without giving it the means 
 of defence. This was an absurdity which could 
 not but lead to continual strife. 
 
 They attempted to remodel the clergy, but they 
 chose an apostate bishop to re-establish the throne 
 and the altar. They attempted to expunge the
 
 108 
 
 memory of the revolution but they dug up its 
 dead bodies. 
 
 They tried to make the revolution of 89 accept- 
 able to the royalists, and the counter-revolution 
 of the 31st March to the ex-conventionalists. Both 
 attempts were ineffectual ; for revolutions will suit 
 none but those who have gone along with their 
 spirit, and were born in it. The king should have 
 had no man older than twenty about him. 
 
 They attempted to maintain the revolution, 
 while they debased its institutions. Therefore 
 they disheartened the bulk of the nation, which 
 had grown up with them, and was accustomed to 
 respect them. 
 
 They retained my soldiers, because they were 
 afraid of them; and they had them reviewed by 
 men who talked of glory while they bowed to the 
 Cossacks. 
 
 There was no confidence in the existing state 
 of things, because there was no visible centre of 
 action. There was none in public interest, for it 
 was compromised; nor in opinion, for it was 
 crushed; nor in power, because there seemed to 
 be neither head nor hands at the summit of af- 
 fairs. 
 
 I was tolerably well informed of all that passed 
 at Vienna : at that congress where they were amus-
 
 109 
 
 ing themselves with apeing me. I learned, in good 
 time, that the ministers of France had persuaded 
 the congress to take me off the Isle of Elba, and 
 to exile me to St. Helena. It was with some diffi- 
 culty that I believed the Emperor of Russia would 
 consent to such a violation of the faith of treaties ; 
 for I always esteemed his character highly ; but at 
 length, I became satisfied that it was so, and I set 
 about measures for avoiding the destiny they were 
 preparing for me. 
 
 My feeble means of defence would soon have 
 been exhausted; I had therefore to endeavour to 
 create such as might make me, a second time^ for- 
 midable to my enemies. 
 
 France had no confidence in her government. 
 The government had as little in France. The na- 
 tion had found that its interest was not that of 
 the crown, that that of the crown was no less at 
 variance with it. It was mutual treachery, which 
 could not fail to ruin one or other of the parties. 
 It was time to prevent it, and I conceived a plan, 
 which will appear bold in history; but which, in 
 fact, was very reasonable. 
 
 I aspired to re-ascend the throne of France. 
 However weak my resources, they were superior 
 to those of the royalists: for the honour of the
 
 110 
 
 country was my ally, a feeling which never dies in 
 the heart of the French. 
 
 I relied on that support. I reviewed the dimin- 
 utive force, which I destined for so great an en- 
 terprise. The soldiers were ill clothed, for I had 
 not wherewithal to clothe them anew, but their 
 hearts were firm. 
 
 My preparations were not long, for I carried 
 nothing but arms with me. I relied on the French 
 for furnishing us with every thing. The English 
 officer, who resided with me, was amusing himself 
 at Leghorn, and I set sail with a favourable wind. 
 
 Our little flotilla met with no accident; our 
 passage lasted five days. I came in sight of the 
 coast of France at nearly the same spot on which 
 I had landed fifteen years before, on my return 
 from Egypt. Fortune seemed to smile as she did 
 then; I returned as at that time to that land of 
 glory, to raise her fallen eagles, and to win back 
 her independence. 
 
 I landed without an obstacle. I found myself 
 once more in France. I had come back in misfor- 
 tune. My train consisted of a small number of 
 friends and brothers in arms, who had partaken 
 of good and ill fortune with me; but this was a 
 claim on the respect and love of the French. 
 
 I had no settled plan, because I had only vague 
 notions on the state of things. I intended to be
 
 Ill 
 
 decided by circumstances. I had only taken some 
 resolutions for probable occurrences. 
 
 I had but one road to take, because I wanted 
 a strong hold. Grenoble was the nearest fortress ; 
 I therefore marched towards Grenoble, as quickly 
 as possible because I wished to ascertain what I 
 had to depend on. The reception I met with on 
 my road surpassed my expectations, and con- 
 firmed my intentions. I saw that that portion of 
 the people, which was not corrupted by passion or 
 interest, retained a proud feeling, which was 
 wounded by their humiliation. 
 
 I at length discovered the first troops that were 
 sent against me. They were my own soldiers I 
 advanced without fear, for I knew they would 
 never dare to fire upon me. They saw their Em- 
 peror marching at the head of their old masters 
 in the art of war, who had so long shewed them 
 the way to victory. I was still the same, for I 
 brought back independence along with my eagles. 
 
 Who could for a moment believe that French 
 soldiers would hesitate between official oaths taken 
 on the banners of a stranger, and the faith they 
 had sworn to one who had come to free their coun- 
 try? 
 
 The people and the soldiers received me with 
 the same shouts of joy. These shouts were my
 
 only escort, but they were better than any splen- 
 dour, for they promised me the throne. 
 
 I expected to meet with some resistance from 
 the royalists; but I was mistaken: they made 
 none, and I entered Paris without even seeing any 
 of them, except, perhaps, at the windows. There 
 was never enterprise so rash, in appearance, which 
 cost so little trouble in the execution: it was be- 
 cause it met the wishes of the nation, and that 
 every thing is easy which goes along with public 
 opinion. 
 
 This Revolution was effected in twenty days 
 without costing a single drop of blood. The as- 
 pect of France was changed. The royalists fled 
 for help to the allies. The nation, left to itself, re- 
 sumed its magnanimity. It was free : for, by plac- 
 ing me on the throne, it had exercised the greatest 
 act of spontaneous power to which the people can 
 claim a right. I could not have been there with- 
 out its consent, for my six hundred men could 
 never have conquered it. I was no longer dread- 
 ed as a prince, but beloved as a saviour. The 
 greatness of my enterprize had blotted out my 
 misfortunes : it had restored the confidence of the 
 French; I was once more the man of their choice. 
 
 Never did a whole nation throw itself with so 
 much self-devotion and intrepidity into the most 
 perilous situation : it calculated neither the danger
 
 113 
 
 nor the consequences. It was the love of inde- 
 pendence that animated the people, to whom his- 
 tory will give the precedence over all others. 
 
 I had refused the treaty of Chatillon because 
 I was upon the throne of France, and it would 
 have made me stoop too low. But I might accept 
 that granted to the Bourbons, because I had just 
 come from the Isle of Elba ; and one may stop as 
 one ascends, but never as one is coming down. 
 
 I hoped that Europe, astonished at my return, 
 and at the energy of the French people, would 
 be afraid to renew the war with a nation so dar- 
 ing, and with a man whose single character was 
 stronger than all its armies. 
 
 This would have been the case had the con- 
 gress been dispersed, and had we treated with the 
 princes one by one. But their pride took the 
 alarm, because they were under the eye of each 
 other ; and my attempts to keep the peace failed. 
 
 I ought to have foreseen this result, and to have 
 availed myself, without delay, of the first impulse 
 of the people, to shew how formidable we might 
 be. The enemy would have been dismayed at our 
 boldness. He ascribed my hesitation to weakness. 
 He was right; for I was no longer acting in char- 
 acter. 
 
 My pacific attitude lulled the nation to sleep, 
 because I had allowed it to believe that peace was
 
 114 
 
 possible ; from that moment my system of defence 
 was overthrown, because the means of resistance 
 were not adequate to the danger. 
 
 The only means of procuring revolutionary re- 
 sources would have been to begin that great work 
 anew ; to stir up the passions in order to profit by 
 their aberrations. Nothing less could have saved 
 France. 
 
 I should have only had to regulate a second 
 revolution as I had done the first; but I never 
 loved popular commotions, because there is no rein 
 to lead them by; and I deceived myself by im- 
 agining that we might defend Thermopylae by 
 loading each piece with a dozen cartridges. 
 
 I however set about a partial revolution, as if 
 I had not been aware that half-measures are good 
 for nothing ! I offered the nation liberty, because 
 it had complained of a want of it during my first 
 reign. This liberty produced its usual effect; it 
 put words in the place of actions. The imperial- 
 ists were disgusted because I shook the system to 
 which they had attached their interest. The bulk 
 of the nation shrugged their shoulders, for they 
 cared very little about liberty. The republicans 
 distrusted my proceeding, for it was not natural 
 to me. 
 
 Thus, I myself caused disunion in the state. I 
 perceived it, but I relied on the war for a remedy.
 
 115 
 
 France had risen again with so much magnanim- 
 ity ; she had shewn such contempt for the future ; 
 her cause was so just (for it was that of the most 
 sacred rights of nations) ; that I hoped the whole 
 people would have armed themselves by a spon- 
 taneous movement of honour and indignation. 
 But it was too late. 
 
 I felt the danger of my situation. I calculated 
 the attack and the defence: they bore no propor- 
 tions. I began to doubt of my means: that it was 
 not the time to confess it. By an unfortunate 
 chance, my health was deranged as the crisis ap- 
 proached. My body was in a state of suffering; 
 my mind irresolute. The armies advanced. In 
 mine, the soldiers were full of devotion and en- 
 thusiasm; but the officers felt these emotions no 
 longer. They were wearied; they were no 
 longer young ; they had fought long enough : they 
 had estates and palaces. The king had allowed 
 them to retain their fortunes and their places. 
 They were now like adventurers risking them anew 
 with me. They were beginning their career again ; 
 and, however well we may love life, no man 
 would choose to live over again: it is asking too 
 much of human nature. 
 
 I set out for head-quarters, alone, against the 
 world. I tried to fight it. Victory was faithful to 
 us the first day ; but she deceived us the next. We
 
 116 
 
 were overcome, and the glory of our arms was put 
 out on the same field where it was kindled twenty- 
 three years before. 
 
 I might still have defended myself, for my sol- 
 diers would not have deserted me ; but they waged 
 war against me alone. They called upon the 
 French to give me up: it was proposing an act of 
 cowardly meanness, in order to force them to 
 fight. I was not worth so great a sacrifice. It 
 was my part to give myself up. I had no choice. I 
 determined to surrender myself. I hoped they 
 would be content with the hostage I thus placed 
 in their hands, and that they would put the crown 
 upon my son's head. 
 
 I believe it would have been impossible to have 
 placed him on the throne in 1814: but I think it 
 might have been wise in 1815. I do not give my 
 reasons possibly the future may bring them to 
 light. 
 
 I did not quit France till the enemy ap- 
 proached my retreat. As long as none but French- 
 men were about me, I chose to remain among them 
 alone and unarmed. It was the last proof of con- 
 fidence and affection I could give them. It was a 
 testimony I bore to them in the face of the world. 
 
 France respected misfortune in my person to 
 the very moment in which I quitted her shores for 
 ever. I might have gone to America, and exposed
 
 117 
 
 my defeat in the new world; but after having 
 reigned over France, I could not think of debas- 
 ing her throne by seeking glory elsewhere. 
 
 A prisoner in another hemisphere, I have 
 nothing now to defend but the reputation His- 
 tory is preparing for me. She must say at least, 
 that the man for whom a whole people devoted it- 
 self, could not be so destitute of worth as some 
 of his co-temporaries assert.
 
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