The Life, Exile and Conversations with Napoleon. Emmanuel-Auguste-Dieudonné Las Cases

the great anxiety of those who were interested in their success.

      The Emperor entered into conversation on this subject, and was, for upwards of an hour, engaged in describing the details of that event, which is unparalleled in history, both for the boldness of the enterprise, and the miracle of its execution. I shall insert in another part of my journal, the particulars which I collected on this subject.

CAMPAIGNS OF ITALY AND EGYPT.—THE EMPEROR’S OPINION OF THE GREAT FRENCH POETS.—TRAGEDIES BY LATE WRITERS.—HECTOR.—THE ETATS DE BLOIS.—TALMA.

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      25th—28th. Our days were for the most part very much alike; if they seemed long in detail, they were rapidly shortened in a retrospective view. They were without character or interest, and left only imperfect recollections behind. In English he went on gradually improving. The Emperor confessed that he had felt a moment of disgust; his furia Francese had, he said, at one time, given way; but he added that I had reanimated him by means of a plan which he considered more certain and infallible than any other—that of reading and analyzing a single page over and over again until it was thoroughly learnt. The grammatical rules were explained by the way. In this manner, there is not a moment lost to study and memory. The progress at first appears slow, the learner seems to advance but little in his studies; but by the time he has come to the fiftieth page, he is astonished to find that he knows the language. We had added a page of Telemachus to the rest of our lesson, and we found the benefit of it. By this time, however, the Emperor, though he had only had twenty or twenty-five complete lessons, could understand any book; and would have been able to make himself understood in writing. He did not comprehend all that was said, it is true; but, as he observed, nothing could be concealed from him for the future, and this was a great thing—this was a decided victory.

      The Campaign of Egypt was completed with the assistance of Bertrand, as far as the want of materials would permit. The Emperor now commenced, with another of the gentlemen, a new and very important period; namely—from his departure from Fontainebleau, up to his return to Paris and his second abdication. He possessed no document relating to these rapid events; but it was that very rapidity which induced me to entreat him to employ his memory in recording circumstances which the hurry of events or party spirit might enfeeble or distort.

      The Emperor also employed himself very frequently with me, in revising the different chapters of the Campaign of Italy; this was generally done immediately before dinner. He had directed me to arrange each chapter in a regular and uniform manner; to mark out the proper divisions of the paragraphs, and to note down and collect the illustrative articles. This he called the digestive business of an editor. “And your interest is concerned in it,” said he to me one day, with an air of kindness which affected me; “henceforward it is your property: the Campaign of Italy shall bear your name, and the Campaign of Egypt that of Bertrand. I intend that it shall add at once to your fortune and to your fame. There will be at least a hundred thousand francs in your pocket, and your name will last as long as the remembrance of my battles.”

      With regard to our evenings, the reversis had been relinquished a second time; we could not continue it long. After the second or third round, the cards were abandoned for conversation. We resumed our readings: our stock of novels was exhausted, and plays occupied our attention for the future, tragedies in particular. The Emperor is uncommonly fond of analyzing them, which he does in a singular mode of reasoning, and with great taste. He remembers an immense quantity of poetry, which he learned when he was eighteen years old, at which time, he says, he knew much more than he does at present. The Emperor is delighted with Racine, in whom he finds a profusion of beauties. He greatly admires Corneille, but thinks very little of Voltaire, who, he says, is full of bombast and tinsel: always incorrect; unacquainted either with men or things, with truth or the sublimity of the passions of mankind.

      At one of the couchers at St. Cloud the Emperor analyzed a piece which had just been brought out; it was Hector by Luce de Lancival: this piece pleased him very much; it possessed warmth and energy of character. He called it a head-quarter piece; and said that a soldier would be better prepared to meet the enemy after seeing or reading it. He added that it would be well if there were a greater number of plays written in the same spirit.—Then, adverting to those dramatic productions called drames in French, and which he termed waiting-maids’ tragedies, he said they would not bear more than one representation, after which they suffered a gradual diminution of interest. A good tragedy, on the contrary, gains upon us every day. The higher walk of tragedy, continued he, is the school of great men; it is the duty of sovereigns to encourage and disseminate a taste for it. Nor is it necessary, he said, to be a poet, to be enabled to judge of the merits of a tragedy; it is sufficient to be acquainted with men and things, to possess an elevated mind, and to be a statesman. Then, becoming gradually more animated, he added, with enthusiasm,—”Tragedy fires the soul, elevates the heart, and is calculated to generate heroes. Considered under this point of view, perhaps, France owes to Corneille a part of her great actions; and, gentlemen, had he lived in my time, I would have made him a prince.”

      On a similar occasion, he analyzed and condemned the Etats de Blois, which had just been presented for the first time at the theatre of the Court; and perceiving among the company present the Arch-Treasurer Lebrun, who was distinguished for his literary acquirements, he asked his opinion of it. Lebrun, who was undoubtedly in the author’s interest, contented himself with remarking that the subject was a bad one. “That,” replied the Emperor, “was M. Renouard’s first fault; he chose it himself, it was not forced upon him. Besides, there is no subject, however bad, which great talent cannot turn to some account, and Corneille would still have been himself even in one like this. As for M. Renouard, he has totally failed. He has shewn no other talent but that of versification; every thing else is bad, very bad; his conception, his details, his result, are altogether defective. He violates the truth of history; his characters are false, and their political tendency is dangerous, and perhaps prejudicial. This is an additional proof of what, however, is very well known, that there is a wide difference between the reading and the representation of a play. I thought at first that this piece might have been allowed to pass; it was not until this evening that I perceived its improprieties. Of these, the praises lavished on the Bourbons are the least; the declamations against the Revolutionists are much worse. M. Renouard has made the Chief of the Sixteen the Capuchine Chabot of the Convention. There is matter in his piece to inflame every party and every passion: were I to allow it to be represented in Paris, I should probably hear of half a hundred people murdering one another in the pit. Besides, the author has made Henri IV. a true Philinte, and the Duke de Guise a Figaro, which is by far too great an outrage on history. The duke of Guise was one of the most distinguished men of his time; and if he had but ventured, he might, at that time, have established the fourth dynasty. Besides, he was related to the Empress; he was a Prince of the house of Austria, with whom we are in friendship, and whose Ambassador was present this evening at the representation. The author has, in more than one instance, shewn a strange disregard of propriety.” The Emperor afterwards said that he felt more than ever fixed in the determination he had formed not to permit any new tragedy to be played on the public stage before it had undergone a trial at the theatre of the Court. He therefore prohibited the representation of the Etats de Blois. It is worthy of remark, that, since the restoration of the King, this piece was revived with the greatest pomp, and supported by all the favour which the prohibition of the Emperor would naturally procure for it. But, notwithstanding all this, it failed; so correct was the judgment which Napoleon had passed upon it.

      Talma, the celebrated tragedian, had frequent interviews with the Emperor, who greatly admired his talent, and rewarded him magnificently. When the First Consul became Emperor, it was reported all over Paris, that he had Talma to give him lessons in attitude and costume. The Emperor, who always knew every thing that was said against him, rallied Talma one day on the subject, and, finding him look quite disconcerted and confounded,—“You are wrong,“ said he, “I certainly could not have employed myself better, if I had had leisure for it.” On the contrary, it was the Emperor who gave Talma lessons in his art. “Racine,” said he to him, “has