he had expelled one of the members of the Council; the other of constitutional decision, in which he had dissolved the Legislative Body.
A religious party was fomenting civil discord in the State, by secretly circulating bulls and letters from the Pope. They were shewn to a Councillor of State, appointed to superintend religious worship; and who, if he did not himself circulate them, at least neither prevented nor denounced their circulation. This was discovered, and the Emperor suddenly challenged him with the fact in open Council. “What could have been your motive, sir?” said he: “were you influenced by your religious principles? If so, why are you here? I use no control over the conscience of any man. Did I force you to become my Councillor of State? On the contrary, you solicited the post as a high favour. You are the youngest member of the Council, and perhaps the only one who has not some personal claim to that honour; you had nothing to recommend you but the inheritance of your father’s services. You took a personal oath to me; how could your religious feelings permit you openly to violate that oath, as you have just now done? Speak, however; you are here in confidence: your colleagues shall be your judges. Your crime is a great one, sir. A conspiracy for the commission of a violent act is stopped as soon as we seize the arm that holds the poniard. But a conspiracy to influence the public mind has no en: it is like a train of gunpowder. Perhaps, at this very moment, whole towns are thrown into commotion through your fault!” The Councillor, quite confused, said nothing in reply: the first word had sufficed to convict him. The members of the council, to the majority of whom this event was quite unexpected, were struck with astonishment, and observed profound silence.—“Why,” continued the Emperor, “did you not, according to the obligation imposed by your oath, discover to me the criminal and his plots? Am I not at all times accessible to everyone of you?” “Sire,” said the Councillor, at length venturing to reply, “he was my cousin.”—“Your crime is then the greater, sir,” replied the Emperor sharply; “your kinsman could only have been placed in office at your solicitation: from that moment all the responsibility devolved on you. When I look upon a man as entirely devoted to me, as your situation ought to render you, all who are connected with him, and all for whom he becomes responsible, from that time require no watching. These are my maxims.” The accused member still remained silent, and the Emperor continued: “The duties which a Councillor of State owes to me are immense. You, sir, have violated those duties, and you hold the office no longer. Begone: let me never see you here again!” The disgraced Councillor, as he was withdrawing, passed very near the Emperor: the latter looked at him and said, “I am sincerely grieved at this, sir, for the services of your father are still fresh in my memory.” When he was gone, the Emperor added, “I hope such a scene as this may never be renewed; it has done me too much harm.—I am not distrustful, but I might become so! I have allowed myself to be surrounded by every party; I have placed near my person even emigrants and soldiers of the army of Condé; and, though it was wished to induce them to assassinate me, yet, to do them justice, they have continued faithful. Since I have held the reins of government, this is the first individual employed about me, by whom I have been betrayed.” And then, turning towards M. Locré, who took notes of the debates of the Council of State, he said, “write down betrayed—do you hear?”
What an interesting collection were those reports of M. Locré! What has become of them? All that I have here related would be found in them word for word.
With respect to the dissolution of the Legislative Body, the Council of State was convoked either on the last day, or the last day but one of December, 1813. We knew that the debate would be an important one, without however knowing its object: the crisis was of the most serious nature, the enemy was entering on the French territory.
“Gentlemen,” said the Emperor, “you are aware of the situation of affairs, and the dangers to which the country is exposed. I thought it right, without being obliged to do so, to forward a private communication on the subject to the Deputies of the Legislative Body. I wished thus to have associated them with their dearest interests: but they have converted this act of my confidence into a weapon against me; that is to say, against the country. Instead of assisting me with all their efforts, they seek to obstruct mine. Our attitude alone would be sufficient to check the advance of the enemy, while their conduct invites him; instead of shewing him a front of brass, they unveil to him our wounds. They stun me with their clamorous demands for peace, while the only means to obtain it was to recommend war; they complain of me, and speak of their grievances; but what time, what place, do they select for so doing? These are subjects to be discussed in private, and not in the presence of the enemy. Was I inaccessible to them? Did I ever shew myself incapable of arguing reasonably? It is time, however, to come to a resolution: the Legislative Body, instead of assisting me in saving France, wishes to accelerate her ruin. The Legislative Body has betrayed its duty—I fulfil mine—I dissolve it.”
He then ordered the reading of a decree, the purport of which was that two-fifths of the Legislative Body had already gone beyond their power; that on the first of January another fifth would be in the same situation, and that consequently the majority of the Legislative Body would then be composed of members who had no right to be in it; that, in consideration of these circumstances, it was, from that moment, prorogued and adjourned, until fresh elections should be made.
After the reading of this document, the Emperor continued: “Such is the decree which I issue; and were I assured that it would bring the people of Paris in a crowd to the Tuileries to murder me this very day, I would still issue it; for such is my duty. When the people of France placed their destinies in my hands, I took into consideration the laws by which I was to govern them: had I thought those laws insufficient, I should not have accepted them. I am not a Louis XVI. Daily vacillations must not be expected from me. Though I have become Emperor, I have not ceased to be a citizen. If anarchy were to resume her sway, I would abdicate and mingle with the crowd to enjoy my share of the sovereignty, rather than remain at the head of a system in which I should only compromise all, without being able to protect any one. Besides,” concluded he, “my determination is conformable to the law; and if every one here will do his duty this day, I shall be invincible behind the shelter of the law as well as before the enemy.” But, alas! every one did not perform his duty!
Contrary to the received opinion, the Emperor was far from being of an arbitrary temper, and he was so willing to make concessions to his Council of State that he has frequently been known to submit to discussion, or even to annul a decision that he had adopted, because one of the members might afterwards privately advance new arguments, or hint that the personal opinion of the Emperor had influenced the majority. Let the chiefs of the sections be referred to on this head.
The Emperor was accustomed to communicate to members of the Institute every scientific idea that occurred to him, and also to submit his political ideas to Councillors of State: he often did this with private, and even secret, views. It was a sure way, he said, to go to the heart of a question; to ascertain the powers of a man and his political bias; to take measure of his discretion, &c. I know that in the year XII. he submitted to three Councillors of State the consideration of a very extraordinary question: namely, the suppression of the Legislative Body. It was approved by the majority; but one opposed it strenuously; he spoke at great length, and much to the purpose. The Emperor, who had listened to the discussion with great attention and gravity, without uttering a single word, or suffering any indication of his opinion to escape him, closed the sitting by observing, “A question of so serious a nature deserves to be maturely considered; we will resume the subject.” But it was never again brought forward.
It would have been well had the same precautions been adopted at the time of the suppression of the Tribunate; for that has always continued to be a great subject of declamation and reproach. As for the Emperor, he viewed it merely as the suppression of an expensive abuse, and an important economical measure.
“It is certain,” said he, “that the Tribunate was absolutely useless, while it cost nearly half a million; I therefore suppressed it. I was well aware that an outcry would be raised against the violation of the law; but I was strong: I possessed the full confidence of the people, and I considered
