If he spoke of commencing war, the bold resolution was applauded. It was said war enriched France; that it was necessary to astonish the world, and to astonish it in a way worthy of the great nation.
Thus, by being excited and urged to enter upon uncertain plans and enterprises, Napoleon was plunged into continual war. Thus it was, that his reign was impressed with an air of violence contrary to his own character and habits, which were perfectly gentle.
Never was there a man more inclined to indulgence, or more ready to listen to the voice of humanity: of this I could mention a thousand examples; but I confine myself to the following.
Georges and his accomplices had been condemned. Josephine interceded for M.M. Polignac, and Murat for M. de Rivière, and both succeeded in their mediation. On the day of execution, the banker Scherer hastened to Saint-Cloud, bathed in tears, and asked to speak with me. He begged of me to solicit the pardon of his brother-in-law, M. de Russillon, an old Swiss Major, who had been implicated in the affair. He was accompanied by some of his countrymen, all relatives of the prisoner. They observed that they were conscious the Major merited his sentence; but that he was the father of a family, and that he was allied to the most distinguished houses in the Canton of Bern. I yielded to their entreaties, and I had no reason to regret having done so.
It was seven in the morning. Napoleon was up and in his closet with Corvisart, when I was announced. "Sire," said I, "it is not long since your Majesty settled the government of Switzerland by your mediation. But you know that the people are not all equally satisfied; the inhabitants of Bern in particular. You have now an opportunity of proving to them your magnanimity and generosity. One of their countrymen is to be executed this day. He is connected with the best families in the country; if you grant his pardon it will certainly produce a great sensation, and procure you many friends."—"Who is this man? What is his name?" inquired Napoleon.—"Russillon," I replied. On hearing this name, he became angry.—"Russillon," said he, "is more guilty than Georges himself."—"I am fully aware of all that your Majesty now does me the honour to tell me; but the people of Switzerland, his family, his children, will bless you. Pardon him, not on his own account, but for the sake of the many brave men who have suffered for his folly."—"Hark ye," said he, turning to Corvisart, while he took the petition from my hand, approved it, and hastily returned it to me; "immediately despatch a courier to suspend the execution." The joy of the family may be easily guessed: to me they testified their gratitude through the medium of the public papers. Russillon was imprisoned along with his accomplices; but he afterwards obtained his liberty. Since the return of the King, he has several times visited Paris, though I have not seen him. He thinks that I attached but little importance to the act of service I rendered him; and he is right.
CHAPTER III
No man possessed greater sensibility, or evinced more constancy in his affections than Napoleon. He tenderly loved his mother, he adored his wife, and he was fondly attached to his sisters, brothers, and other relatives. All, with the exception of his mother, caused him the bitterest vexation; yet he never ceased to overwhelm them with riches and honours. Of all his relations, his brother Lucien proved himself the most determined opposer of his views and plans. One day, while they were disputing warmly on a subject which has now escaped my recollection, Lucien drew out his watch, and dashing it violently on the ground, he addressed to his brother these remarkable words: "You will destroy yourself, as I have destroyed that watch; and the time will come when your family and friends will not know where to shelter their heads." He married a few days after, without obtaining his brother's consent, or even signifying his intention to him. This, however, did not prevent Napoleon from receiving him in 1815; though it was not without being urged to do so: Lucien was obliged to wait at the out-posts; but he was speedily admitted to the Emperor's presence.
Napoleon did not confine his generosity to his relatives; friendship, services, all met their due reward. On this I can speak from experience. I returned from Egypt, in the rank of aide-de-camp to the brave General Desaix, and with two hundred louis which I had saved, and which constituted my whole fortune. At the time of the abdication, I possessed an income of 400,000 francs, arising out of endowments, appointments, emoluments, extraordinary allowances, &c. I have lost five sixths of this income; but I do not regret it: that which I still possess forms a vast contrast to my early fortune. But what I regret is the glory acquired at the price of so much blood and exertion: it is for ever lost, and for that I am inconsolable.
I was not the only one who shared the bounty of Napoleon; a thousand others were in like manner overwhelmed with favours; and the injury which he suffered, through the misconduct of some, proved no bar to the exercise of his kindness. Whatever might be the depth of these injuries, they were forgotten as soon as he was convinced that the heart had no share in producing them. I could cite a hundred instances of his indulgence in this respect; but the following will suffice.
When he took the title of Emperor, the changes that were made in his household, which had been hitherto exclusively military, gave umbrage to several of us. We had been accustomed to enjoy the intimacy of the great man, and we felt displeased at the reserve imposed upon us by the imperial purple.
Generals Regnier and Damas were at that time in disgrace: I was intimate with both, and I was not in the habit of abandoning my friends in misfortune. I had exerted every effort to remove Napoleon's prejudices against these two general officers; but without success. I one day resumed my intercession in favour of Regnier; and Napoleon becoming impatient and out of humour, told me, dryly, that he wished to hear no more about him. I wrote to inform the brave General, that all my endeavours had proved unavailing: I entreated him to have patience; and added a few phrases dictated by the disappointment of the moment. I was so imprudent as to entrust my letter to the conveyance of the post; and the consequence was, that it was opened and sent to the Emperor. He read it over three or four times, ordered some of my writing to be brought to him for the purpose of comparing it, and could scarcely persuade himself that I had written it. He flew into a violent rage, and despatched a courier from Saint Cloud to the Tuileries, where I was lodged. I thought I was summoned for a mission, and set out immediately. I found Caulincourt in the saloon of the household with Cafarelli, and I asked him what was the news. He had heard the whole affair; he seemed much vexed by it: but he said not a word about it to me. I entered the apartments of Napoleon, who came out of his closet, with the letter in his hand, in a furious rage. He darted upon me those angry glances, which so often excited dismay. "Do you know this writing?" said he.—"Yes, Sire,"—"It is yours?"—"Yes, Sire."—"You are the last person I should have suspected of this. Is it possible that you can hold such language to my enemies? You, whom I have treated so well! You, for whom I have done so much! You, the only one of all my aides-de-camp, whom I lodged in the Tuileries!"—The door of his closet was ajar: he observed this, and he threw it wide open, in order that M. Menneval, one of the secretaries, might hear what passed. "Begone," said he, scanning me from head to foot, "begone; you are an ungrateful man!"—"Sire," I replied, "my heart was never guilty of ingratitude."—"Read this letter," said he, presenting it to me, "and judge whether I accuse you wrongfully."—"Sire, of all the reproaches that you can heap upon me, this is the most severe. Having lost your confidence, I can no longer serve you."—"Yes, you have indeed forfeited my confidence." I bowed respectfully, and withdrew.
I resolved to retire to Alsace, and I was making preparations for my departure, when Josephine sent to desire me to return and make my best apologies to Napoleon. Louis, however, gave me contrary advice, and I was not much inclined to obey the directions of the Empress, as my resolution was formed. Two days elapsed, and I heard no news from Saint Cloud. Some friends, among whom was Marshal Bessières, called on me. "You are in the wrong," said the Marshal, "you cannot but acknowledge it. The respect and gratitude you owe to the Emperor render it a duty to confess your fault." I yielded to these suggestions. No sooner had Napoleon received my letter, than he desired me to attend him in one of his rides on horseback. He was out of humour with me for some time; but one day he sent for me very early at Saint Cloud. "I am no longer angry with you," said he, with exceeding kindness of manner; "you were guilty of a great piece of folly; but it is all over—I have forgotten it. It is my wish that you should marry." He mentioned two young ladies, either