He asked me what I thought of the situation. I was reserved. I told him that a good beginning had been made; that the task was a difficult but a grand one; that what he had to do was to reassure the bourgeoisie and satisfy the people, to give tranquillity to the former, work to the latter, and life to all; that after the little governments, those of the elder Bourbons, Louis Philippe, and the Republic of February, a great one was required; that the Emperor had made a great government through war, and that he himself ought to make a great one through peace; that the French people having been illustrious for three centuries did not propose to become ignoble; that it was his failure to appreciate this high-mindedness of the people and the national pride that was the chief cause of Louis Philippe’s downfall; that, in a word, he must decorate peace. “How?” asked Louis Napoleon. “By all the greatness of art, literature and science, by the victories of industry and progress. Popular labour can accomplish miracles. And then, France is a conquering nation; when she does not make conquests with the sword, she wants to make them with the mind. Know this and act accordingly. Ignore it and you will be lost.” He looked thoughtful and went away. Then he returned, thanked me warmly, and we continued to converse. We spoke about the press. I advised him to respect it profoundly and at the same time to establish a State press. “The State without a newspaper, in the midst of newspapers,” I observed, “restricting itself to governing while publicity and polemics are the rule, reminds one of the knights of the fifteenth century who obstinately persisted in fighting against cannon with swords; they were always beaten. I grant that it was noble; you will grant that it was foolish.” He spoke of the Emperor. “It is here,” he said, “that I saw him for the last time. I could not re-enter this palace without emotion. The Emperor had me brought to him and laid his hand on my head. I was seven years old. It was in the grand salon downstairs.” Then Louis Bonaparte talked about La Malmaison. He said: “They have respected it. I visited the place in detail about six weeks ago. This is how I came to do so. I had gone to see M. Odilon Barrot at Bougival. “‘Dine with me,’ he said. “’ I will with pleasure.’ It was 3 o’clock. ‘What shall we do until dinner time?’ “‘Let us go and see La Malmaison,’ suggested M. Barrot. “We went. Nobody else was with us. Arrived at La Malmaison we rang the bell. A porter opened the gate, M. Barrot spoke: “‘We want to see La Malmaison.’ “‘Impossible!’ replied the porter. “‘What do you mean, impossible?’ “‘I have orders.’ “‘From whom?’ “‘From her Majesty Queen Christine, to whom the château belongs at present.’ “‘But monsieur here is a stranger who has come expressly to visit the place.’ “‘Impossible!’ “‘Well,’ exclaimed M. Odilon Barrot, ‘it’s funny that this door should be closed to the Emperor’s nephew!’