The Life, Exile and Conversations with Napoleon. Emmanuel-Auguste-Dieudonné Las Cases
be in equilibrium with his personal courage; that raises him at once above the common level.” This is what the Emperor termed being well squared, both by the base and perpendicular.
“If,” continued he, “courage be a general’s predominating quality, he will rashly embark in enterprises above his conceptions; and, on the other hand, he will not venture to carry his ideas into effect, if his character or courage be inferior to his judgment.”
He then cited the example of the Viceroy, whose sole merit consisted in this equilibrium of character, which, however, sufficed to render him a very distinguished man.
Physical and moral courage then became the subject of discourse. “With respect to physical courage,” the Emperor said, “it was impossible for Murat and Ney not to be brave, but no men ever possessed less judgment; the former in particular. As to moral courage,” observed he, “I have very rarely met with the two o’clock in the morning courage. I mean, unprepared courage, that which is necessary on an unexpected occasion, and which, in spite of the most unforeseen events, leaves full freedom of judgment and decision.” He did not hesitate to declare that he was himself eminently gifted with this two o’clock in the morning courage, and that, in this respect, he had met with but few persons who were at all equal to him. He remarked that an incorrect idea was generally formed of the strength of mind necessary to engage in one of those great battles on which depends the fate of an army or nation, or the possession of a throne. “Generals,” added he, “are rarely found eager to give battle; they choose their positions; establish themselves; consider their combinations; but then commences their indecision: nothing is so difficult, and at the same time so important, as to know when to decide.”
He next proceeded to notice several generals, and condescended to reply to some questions that were asked him. “Kleber,” said he, “was endowed with the highest talent; but he was merely the man of the moment: he pursued glory as the only road to enjoyment; but he had no national sentiment, and he could, without any sacrifice, have devoted himself to foreign service.” Kleber had commenced his youthful career among the Prussians, to whom he continued much attached. Dessaix possessed, in a very superior degree, the important equilibrium above described. Moreau scarcely deserved to be placed in the first rank of generals; in him nature had left her work unfinished; he possessed more instinct than genius. In Lannes, courage at first predominated over judgment; but the latter was every day gaining ground, and approaching the equilibrium. He had become a very able commander at the period of his death. “I found him a dwarf,” said the Emperor, “but I lost him a giant.” In another general, whom he named, judgment was, on the contrary, superior to courage; it could not be denied that he was a brave man; but he, like many others, did not forget the chance of the cannon-ball.
Speaking of military ardour and courage, the Emperor said, “I know the depth, or what I call the draught of water, of all my generals. Some,” added he, joining action to his words, “will sink to the waist, some to the chin, others over head; but the number of the latter is very small, I assure you.” Suchet, he said, was one whose courage and judgment had been surprisingly improved. Massena was a very superior man, and, by a strange peculiarity of temperament, he possessed the desired equilibrium only in the heat of battle; it was created in the midst of danger. “The generals,” finally observed the Emperor, “who seemed destined to rise to future distinction were Gerard, Clausel, Foy, Lamarque, &c. These were my new marshals.”
SITUATION OF THE SPANISH PRINCES AT VALENCEY.—THE
POPE AT FONTAINEBLEAU.—REFLECTIONS, &C.
6th.—The Emperor, after dictating to me this morning, was successively engaged with the other gentlemen, with whom he prolonged his walk for some time. When they withdrew, I followed him into the lower path: he was dull and silent, and his countenance appeared somewhat harsh and ruffled. “Well,” said he, as we were returning to dinner, “we shall have sentinels under our windows at Longwood. They wished to force me to have a foreign officer at my table and in my drawing-room. I cannot mount my horse without being accompanied by an officer; in short, we cannot stir a step under pain of being insulted!...” I replied that this was another drop of sorrow added to the bitter cup which we were doomed to drink to his past glory and power; but that his philosophy was sufficient to defy the malice of his enemies, and to make them blush for their brutality in the face of the whole world. I ventured to remark that the Spanish Princes at Valencey, and the Pope at Fontainebleau, had never experienced such treatment. “Certainly not,” resumed he; “the Princes hunted and gave balls at Valencey, without being physically aware of their chains; they experienced respect and courtesy at all hands. Old King Charles IV. removed from Compiegne to Marseilles, and from Marseilles to Rome, whenever he wished. And yet how different are those places from this! The Pope at Fontainebleau, whatever may have been the reports circulated in the world, was treated in the same manner. And yet how many persons, in spite of all the indulgences he enjoyed, refused to be appointed to guard him!—a circumstance which gave me no offence, for I thought it perfectly natural. Such employments are subject to the influence of delicacy of feeling; and our European manners require that power should be limited by honour.” He observed that, for his own part, as a private man and an officer, he should without hesitation have refused to guard the Pope, whose removal to France, he added, had never been ordered by him.—I manifested great surprise.—“You are astonished,” said he: “you did not know this? But it is nevertheless true, as well as many other similar facts, which you will learn in course of time. But, with reference to the subject on which we have just been speaking, it is necessary to distinguish the conduct of the sovereign, who acts collectively, from that of the private man, whose sentiments are without constraint. Policy permits, nay, frequently demands, from the one, what would be unpardonable in the other.” The hour of dinner, by introducing various subjects of conversation, diverted his melancholy, and cheerfulness finally prevailed.
Meanwhile the Emperor seriously determined to quit his present wretched abode, whatever inconvenience his new residence might present. On going to pass the remainder of the evening with our host, the Emperor directed me to present him a box bearing his cypher, and to tell him he was sorry for all the trouble he had occasioned to him.
ON THE NOUVELLE HÉLOÏSE, AND ON LOVE.
7th.—The Emperor summoned me to attend him at an early hour. He began to read the Nouvelle Héloïse, frequently remarking on the ingenuity and force of the arguments, the elegance of the style and expressions: he read for upwards of two hours. This reading made a powerful impression on me; it produced a deep melancholy—a mingled feeling of tenderness and sorrow. I had always been fond of the work; and it now awakened happy recollections, and excited deep regret: the Emperor frequently smiled at me. During breakfast the Nouvelle Héloïse was the topic of conversation.
“Jean-Jacques has overcharged his subject,” said the Emperor; “he has painted madness: love should be a source of pleasure, not of misery.” I alleged that Jean-Jacques had described nothing which a man might not feel, and that even the misery to which the Emperor alluded was, in reality, happiness.—“I see,” said he, “you have a little touch of the romantic: has Love’s misery rendered you happy?”—“I do not complain of my fate, Sire,” replied I; “were I to begin life again, I should wish to retrace the course I have already pursued.”
The Emperor resumed his reading after breakfast; but he paused occasionally: the enchantment seemed to seize him in his turn. He at length laid down the book, and we went out to the garden. “Really,” said he, as we walked along, “this work is not without fire; it moves, it rouses the feelings.” We discussed the subject deeply; we were very prolix in our remarks, and we at length agreed that perfect love is like ideal happiness; that both are equally airy, fugitive, mysterious, and inexplicable; and that, finally, love is the business of the idle man, the recreation of the warrior, and the ruin of the sovereign.
We were joined by the Grand Marshal and M. Gourgaud, who had just come from Longwood. The admiral had for some days past been urgent for our removal thither; and the Emperor