A LETTER

TO THE

EMPEROR NAPOLEON,

SOVEREIGN OF ELBA,

ON THE MOST IMPORTANT OF ALL SUBJECTS.

SIRE There is something painful to the feelings of a generous mind, in the contemplation of the fall of the great. Though, in addressing you, I cannot conceal from you that, with the rest of my countrymen, I rejoice that your excessive power has ceased to threaten the liberties of mankind, I yet feel the most sincere sympathy for your situation. The pen that can insult the misfortunes of fallen majesty shall never move in my hand. Being no stranger to the principles of human nature that actuate the minds of men in the pursuit of glory, I can conceive the anguish of disappointment. From my soul, I compassionate the man who, from the first place of power and of glory in the world, is reduced to the sovereignty of a small island.

In the day of your power, many nations vied with each other in extolling your political talents, as surpassing those of all kings and of all statesmen; and in raising monuments to your military achievements, as more glorious than those of all preceding conquerors.

In your present situation, when all tongues and pens are employed in vilifying your talents, or in reproaching your character, you shall hear nothing from me that I would not have said, had I been admitted into your presence, when your nod swayed Europe. I have chosen to address you now, because there is less to call off your attention from what I shall have the honour to submit to your majesty's consideration. In your career of glory, when schemes of ambition, and aggrandizement of your empire filled your mind, I could have had no hope of obtaining a hearing. I address you because as you have lost a glorious throne, you may, perhaps, attend to me, while I point out to your majesty how you may obtain one more glorious. I address you now, because I know that the retrospection of your former situation must make you unhappy; and that I can show you a path to happiness and glory, with which I presume your majesty is yet unacquainted.

now,

I have heard, sire, that you intend to divert your mind by the pursuits of mathematics and of agriculture, and by writing the history of your life. Justice to your character, as well as the gratification of the public may require the latter. In such a work, I will be glad to find that your fall has not been occasioned by incapacity. I cannot allow myself to think, that the man who has long displayed such incomparable talents in the cabinet, and in the field, should reject the terms proposed to him at Chatillon, from any other reason, than that he knew, that the fickle, vain glorious French, would never submit to the sceptre of a stranger, who had lost his dazzling lustre. I presume, sire, you risked all, because shorn of any part of your glory, you knew you could not reign at all. It would give pleasure to every admirer of genius, if you can clear your intellectual character from the aspersions thrown on it by a band of despicable scribblers, who live by defamation.

But I am mistaken, sire, if ever any pursuits or studies of an earthly nature, confer happiness on the humiliation and retirement of him, who has through so many storms, proudly and successfully guided the helm of the world; who has stood so long at the head of all con

querors. Did the mechanical employments of Charles V., console the voluntary retirement of a man accustomed to govern, even though he left his power in the hands of his son. To be stripped of honours and power, and fame, gives a shock to the mind, of which they who never possessed them can form no adequate conception. Some of the wretched tribe of scribblers, accused you of meanness and cowardice, because you did not end your sufferings like Cato. But your philosophy is more rational, and more manly, that teaches. you that it is greater to endure a suffering life than to end sufferings by death. By uncommon efforts of stoical apathy, you may, in some measure, deaden the sensibilities of nature, and learn to endure your misfortunes with fortitude. But enduring suffering is not happiness; it is only insensibility to misery. A dead body in the midst of flames is not in pain, nor is it happy. Were we to grant them that the stoical discipline was successful in extirpating all the feelings or passions of human nature, still their wisdom was folly. Their happiness arose from insensibility. But the project is impossible. It is contrary to the nature of man, and no human being ever arrived at a state of insensibility under sufferings. And if it fail of success in those who have been submitting to its discipline from their youth, much less effectual will it be with him who has drank long out of the cup of pleasure, filled with all the sweetness that this world could afford; who has indulged even in the intoxication of power. They must know little of human nature, who think that the pain of death would be any consideration to a man in your situation. To suffer the loss of glory and of power, is more painful than to suffer death a thousand times. How often had you looked down through the long series of coming ages, anticipating immortal praises from France, from the world. How inconceivable must be your anguish, when you have lived to hear yourself reviled by France, and to be held up a but of ridicule to the world! You expected the trophies of your fame to be eternal; but already the proud monuments of your glory are defaced; an untimely frost has nipped

your laurels. What then could induce oblivion? What could give you happiness? Were the island of Elba a mass of pure gold, were all its pebbles diamonds, it could not make you forget your lost glory.

I admit, sire, that your misfortunes do not justly deprive you of the glory of your former great actions. In the eye of philosophy, the worth of your intellectual character, must be formed by tracing throughout all your conduct, the various combinations of means which your genius has employed to effect your purposes. Your genius ought to appear great, in proportion to the vastness of your aims against the difficulties to be surmounted in accomplishing them, and to your ability in producing, or combining means to give them effect. Though I know but little of your history, I know so much as to venture to assert, that all your enemies will never be able to pull you down to the level of mankind. Like Satan, though you have been hurled from glory, you remain great in your fall. But, sire, it is not impartial philosophy that draws your character; you are painted generally in caricature. For every individual who is capable and inclined to sit in equitable judgment upon you, there are a million who refuse you the laurels, merely because you have been finally disappointed. Nor need you look with perfect confidence to the voice of history, the usual appeal of disappointed ambition, The present fame of our Cromwell, may teach you, that an unsuccessful aspirer to royalty, sinks never to rise again. Had Charles to his own crimes, added all the crimes of Cromwell, what would have been the glory of his name, had he possessed the talents of the usurper! In every country, the rulers have the sentiments of the bulk of the people much under controul; and there is no point in which their influence is more conspicuous than on this. To divest usurpers of every great, as well as of every good quality, is naturally the propensity of all legitimate monarchies. What probability is there then, sire, that ever your memory shall be respected in France, while a Bourbon reigns there? Had you been able to commit your power to the hands of your son, had your dynasty been fixed in a long

1

series of your descendants, the glory of your name would have increased with time. Why was the murdered Cæsar enrolled among the gods? Why does his glory still survive? The power wrested out of the hands of Cæsar, was recovered by his friends, and his heirs reigned for ages after him. To this hour, monarchs and princes are found to be distinguished by the names of that wicked usurper, or by those of his successor. Sire, I consider you a greater man than Cæsar, and not a more wicked man; yet I doubt much, if ever it will be fashionable for emperors, kings, and princes, to assume your names.

Sire, I would charge myself with cruelty, in calling your attention to the unhappiness of your situation, if I could not direct you to a source of comfort, that has never failed to alleviate the keenest afflictions. You have lost the world, and must be oppressed with the anguish of disappointment. I point out to you the way to obtain the glory of the world to come, with which earthly glory cannot be compared. Every avenue is closed against your ambition in this world. I open to your view a field for your ambition, boundless, and glorious. If once you enter it, you will look back with pity on all your former competitors, and with contempt on those objects, for the possession of which you have so ardently contended. In addressing you on this subject, I am not certain whether I ought to consider you as an infidel, or as a believer in revelation. You have been represented even as an Atheist. Indeed, I do not consider it any way material what are your peculiar religious sentiments. The Gospel can subdue an Atheist, as easily as a devotee. Though you had all your life been opposing christianity, I address to you the saving truth with as great confidence, as if you had been a monk, or a pillar-saint. The Scriptures demand assent on evidence, that no rational creature is excusable in rejecting. They never yet were rejected for want of evidence. Men hate them, and the God which they reveal, because their own works are evil. They do not come to the light, lest their works should be made manifest. There is as convincing evidence,