The Body-Guard of the King of France.—A Deserter in the Emperor’s Suite

4th.—The Emperor sent for me after he had finished his breakfast. He was stretched on a sofa, with several books scattered about him. He wore his nightcap, and looked pale. “Las Cases,” said he, “I am unwell. I have been looking over a great many books, but I can find nothing to interest me. I feel wearied.” He fixed his eye on me; that eye, naturally so animated, was now dim, and its expression told me more than his eye had uttered. “Sit down,” said he, pointing to a chair that was beside him, loaded with books, “and let us chat.” He spoke of the Island of Elba, of the life he had led there, of some visits which he had received, &c. He then put some questions to me concerning Paris and the French Court during the corresponding period. The conversation having led to the mention of the King’s body-guard, some one present remarked, as a curious circumstance, that there was a deserter from the guard in Napoleon’s suite at St. Helena. “How? explain yourself,” said the Emperor.—“Sire,” continued the person who had just spoken, “at the time of the restoration, one of the captains of the guard, for whom I entertained great friendship, and who, in spite of the difference of our opinions, had always evinced a high regard for me, proposed to enter my son in his company, assuring me that he would treat him as though he were his own. I replied that he was too young, and that the appointment might retard the progress of his education; but my friend silenced all my objections. I however requested some time to consider of the matter; and on my mentioning it to some persons of my acquaintance, they were astonished that I should have declined so good an offer, and assured me that in a short time my son might attain great advancement, without any interruption of his education. I then waited on the captain of the guard, and acknowledged that I had not shewn myself sufficiently grateful for his offer; and he replied that he was fully aware I had not understood the extent of the advantage he proposed to me. However, by one circumstance or another, your Majesty returned before my son had the honour of being presented to his colonel, and as I took him from his Lyceum on our departure for St. Helena, he is clearly and truly a deserter.” The Emperor laughed heartily and said; “This is another effect of revolutions! What new interests, connexions, and opinions do they create! It is fortunate when they do not disunite families, and set the best friends at variance with each other.” He then began to question me concerning my family, and concluded by saying, “I saw in Alphonse de Beauchamp’s work, your name mentioned among the individuals who, on the 30th of March, endeavoured to excite demonstrations in favour of the Royal Family in the Place Louis XV. I know it was not you; I think you once explained the matter to me, but I have forgotten the particulars.”—“Sire,“ said I, “it was a cousin of mine, of the same name. The circumstance vexed me a good deal at the time; I inserted contradictions in the journals; and it was rather droll that my cousin, on his part, addressed letters to the public prints, desiring that he might be particularly specified as the individual alluded to. I believe that the general way in which the name was introduced, in Alphonse de Beauchamp’s work, was kindly meant on the part of the author, who wished, by this means, to afford me an opportunity of ingratiating myself in the favour of the ruling party, if I had a mind to do so. I must do my cousin the justice to say that, when I obtained an appointment about your Majesty’s person, I several times offered to solicit for him a post in your household or elsewhere; but this he constantly declined. I wish he may now enjoy the reward of his fidelity.” The Emperor again repeated that all private interests were subverted by revolutions. “And it is these private wounds,” said he, “which occasion the general ferment, and render the shocks so acute and violent.”

The weather was so bad the whole of the day that it was impossible to go out. The Emperor dismissed me and sent for General Gourgaud, to whom he dictated in his library, from two to six o’clock, almost the whole of Moreau’s campaign during the Consulate. After dinner, he read to us Madame de Maintenon’s celebrated sumptuary letter to her brother, in which she fixes her household expenditure at six thousand francs a-year. The Emperor had several volumes of the Grands Hommes brought to him, and, after perusing some articles, he amused himself by looking at the outline portraits at the end of each volume.