Chapter XII: Part 12

17th.—The Emperor summoned me at two o’clock, when he began to dress.
On entering, he observed that I looked pale: I replied that it might
be owing to the atmosphere of my chamber, which, from its proximity to
the kitchen, was an absolute oven, being frequently filled with smoke.
He then expressed a wish that I should constantly occupy the
topographic cabinet, in which I might write during the day, and sleep
at night, in a bed which the Admiral had fitted up for the Emperor
himself, but which he did not make use of as he preferred his own
camp-bed. When he had finished dressing, and was choosing between two
or three snuff-boxes, which lay before him, he abruptly gave one to
his valet-de-chambre (Marchand): “Put that by,” said he, “it is always
meeting my eye, and it pains me.” I know not what was on this
snuff-box; but I imagine it was a portrait of the King of Rome.

The Emperor left his apartment, and I followed him; he went over the
house, and entered my chamber. Seeing a dressing-glass, he inquired
whether it was the one that he had given me. Then putting his hand to
the wall, which was heated by the kitchen, he again observed that I
could not possibly remain in that room, and absolutely insisted on my
occupying his bed in the topographic cabinet: adding, in a tone of
captivating kindness, that it was “the bed of a friend.” We walked
out, and proceeded towards a wretched farm which was within sight. On
our way we saw the barracks of the Chinese. These Chinese are
labouring men, who enlist on board English ships at Macao, and who
continue at St. Helena in the service of the East India Company for a
certain number of years, when they return to their homes, after
collecting a little store of money, as the people of Auvergne do in
France. The Emperor wished to ask them some questions: but we could
not make ourselves understood by them. We next visited what is called
Longwood Farm, The Emperor was seduced by the name; he expected to
find one of the delightful farms of Flanders or England; but this was
merely on a level with our lowest _metairies_. We afterwards went down
to the Company’s garden, which is formed in the hollow where the two
opposite ravines meet. The Emperor called the gardener, and the man
who attends to the Company’s cattle and superintends the Chinese, of
whom he asked many questions. He returned home very much fatigued,
though we had scarcely walked a mile: this was his first excursion.

Before dinner the Emperor summoned me and my son to our accustomed
task. He said that I had been idle, and called my attention to my son,
who was laughing behind my back. He asked why he laughed; and I
replied that it was probably because his Majesty was taking revenge
for him. “Ah!” said he, smiling, “I see I am acting the part of the
grandfather here.”

HABITS AND HOURS OF THE EMPEROR.—HIS STYLE TO THE TWO
EMPRESSES.—DETAILS.—THE EMPEROR’S MAXIMS ON THE SUBJECT OF THE
POLICE.—SECRET POLICE FOR THE EXAMINATION OF LETTERS.—CURIOUS
PARTICULARS.—THE EMPEROR FAVOURABLE TO A FIXED AND MODERATE SYSTEM OF
GOVERNMENT.

18th—19th. By degrees our hours and habits began to be fixed and
regular. About ten o’clock the Emperor breakfasted in his own chamber,
and one of us occasionally attended him. At the table of the household
we breakfasted at nearly the same hour. The Emperor granted us
permission to do the honours of this table as we pleased, and to
invite to it whomsoever we might think fit.

No hours were yet fixed for the Emperor’s walks. The heat was very
great during the day, and the damp came on speedily and profusely
towards evening. We were informed, some time before, that coach and
saddle horses were coming from the Cape; but they never arrived.
During the day the Emperor was engaged in dictating to the different
persons of his suite; and he usually reserved me for the interval
preceding dinner, which was not served until eight or nine o’clock. He
required my attendance about five or six o'clock, together with my
son. I could neither write nor read, owing to the state of my eyes;
but my son was enabled to supply my place. He wrote to the Emperor’s
dictation, and I was present only to help him afterwards to correct
his hasty scrawl; for, by dint of habit, I could repeat, almost
literally and entirely, all that had fallen from the Emperor.

The Campaign of Italy being now finished, we began to revise it, and
the Emperor corrected, and dictated anew. We dined, as I have before
observed, between eight and nine o’clock. The table was laid out in
the room nearest to the entrance of the house. Madame de Montholon sat
on the right of the Emperor; I on his left; and Messrs. de Montholon,
Gourgaud, and my son, sat in the opposite places. The room still
smelled of paint, particularly when the weather was damp; and though
not very offensive, it was sufficiently annoying to the Emperor: we,
therefore, sat no longer than ten minutes at table. The dessert was
prepared in the adjoining apartment, which was the drawing-room, and
we again seated ourselves round the table. Coffee was then served up,
and conversation commenced. We read a few scenes from Moliere, Racine,
and Voltaire, and always regretted not having a copy of Corneille. We
then played at _reversis_, which had been the Emperor’s favourite game
in his youth. The recollection was pleasing to him, and he at first
thought that he could amuse himself for a length of time at it; but he
was soon undeceived. We played at the game and all its varieties;
which made it so complex that I have seen from fifteen to eighteen
thousand counters in use at once. The Emperor’s aim was always to make
the reversis; that is to say, to make every trick, which is no easy
matter. However, he frequently succeeded:—character developes itself
every where and in every thing. We retired about ten or eleven
o’clock.

To-day, the 19th, when I paid my respects to the Emperor, he shewed me
a libel upon himself which had fallen into his hands, and asked me to
translate it. Amidst a mass of other nonsense, some private letters
were mentioned, which were said to have been addressed by Napoleon to
the Empress Josephine, under the solemn form of _Madame et chère
Epouse_. Allusion was next made to a combination of spies and agents,
by whose aid the Emperor knew the private affairs of every family in
France, and penetrated the secrets of all the cabinets in Europe. The
Emperor wished to proceed no farther, and made me lay aside the book,
saying,—“It is too absurd.” The fact is that, in his private
correspondence, Napoleon always addressed the Empress Josephine very
unfashionably by the pronoun “thou” (_tu_); and “my good little
Louisa” (_ma bonne petite Louise_) was the form by which he addressed
Maria Louisa.

The first time I ever saw the Emperor’s running-hand was at
Saint-Cloud, after the battle of Friedland, when the Empress Josephine
amused herself by making us try to decipher a note which she held in
her hand, and which seemed to be written in hieroglyphics. It was to
the following effect:—“My sons have once more shed a lustre over my
career: the victory of Friedland will be inscribed in history, beside
those of Marengo, Austerlitz, and Jena. You will cause the cannon to
be fired; Cambaceres will publish the bulletin.”

I was again favoured with the sight of a note in the Emperor’s
hand-writing, at the time of the treaty of Tilsit. It contained the
following:—“The Queen of Prussia is really a charming woman. She is
fond of coquetting with me; but do not be jealous: I am like a
cerecloth, along which every thing of this sort slides, without
penetrating. It would cost me too dear to play the gallant.”

On this subject, an anecdote was related in the saloon of Josephine.
It was said that the Queen of Prussia one day had a beautiful rose in
her hand, which the Emperor asked her to give to him. The Queen
hesitated for a few moments, and then presented it to him, saying:
“Why should I so readily grant what you request, while you remain deaf
to all my entreaties?” She alluded to the fortress of Magdeburg, which
she had earnestly solicited him to give up. Such was the nature of the
intimacy, and such the conversations, that were so unblushingly
misrepresented in English works of a certain degree of merit, where
the Emperor was described as an insolent and brutal tyrant, seeking,
with the aid of his ferocious Mamelukes, to violate the honour of the
lovely Queen, before the very face of her unfortunate husband.

As to the grand machinery of spies and police, which has been so much
talked of, what state on the Continent could boast of having less of
such evils than France; and yet what country stood more in need of
them? What circumstances more imperatively called for them? Every
pamphlet published in Europe was directed against France, with a view
of rendering odious in another country that which it was thought
advisable to conceal at home. Still, however, these measures, so
necessary in principle, though doubtless hateful in their details,
were looked at merely in a general way by the Emperor, and always with
a strict observance of his constant maxim, that nothing should be done
that is not absolutely indispensable. In the Council of State, I have
frequently heard him make enquiries into these subjects; investigate
them with peculiar solicitude; correct abuses and seek to obviate
evils, and appoint committees of his Council to visit the prisons, and
make reports to him. Having been myself employed in a mission of this
nature, I had an opportunity of observing the misconduct and abuses of
subaltern agents; and, at the same time, of knowing the ardent wishes
of the sovereign to repress them.

The Emperor found that this branch of the administration in a certain
degree clashed with established prejudices and opinions; and he
therefore wished to elevate it in the eyes of the people, by placing
it under the control of a man whose character was beyond the reach of
censure. In the year 1810, he summoned the Councillor of State, Baron
——, to Fontainebleau. The Baron had been an emigrant, or what nearly
amounted to the same thing. His family, his early education, his
former opinions,—all were calculated to render him an object of
suspicion to one more distrustful than Napoleon. In the course of
conversation, the Emperor said:—“If the Count de Lille were now to
discover himself in Paris, and you were intrusted with the
superintendence of the police, would you arrest him?”—“Yes,
certainly,” answered the Councillor of State, “because he would
thereby have broken his ban, and because his appearance would be in
opposition to every existing law.”—“If you were one of a committee
appointed to try him, would you condemn him?”—“Yes, doubtless; for the
laws which I have sworn to obey would require that I should condemn
him.”—“Very well!” said the Emperor, “return to Paris: I make you my
prefect of police.”

With regard to the inspection of letters under the government of
Napoleon, whatever may have been publicly said on that subject, the
Emperor declared that certainly very few letters were read at the
post-offices. Those which were delivered either open or re-sealed, to
private persons, had, for the most part, not been read: to read all
would have been an endless task. The system of examining letters was
adopted with the view of preventing, rather than discovering,
dangerous correspondence. The letters that were really read exhibited
no trace of having been opened, so effectual were the precautions
employed. “Ever since the reign of Louis XIV.,” said the Emperor,
“there had existed an office of political police for discovering
foreign correspondence: and from that period the same families had
managed the business of the office, though the individuals and their
functions were alike unknown. It was in all respects an official post.
The persons superintending this department were educated at great
expense in the different capitals of Europe. They had their own
peculiar notions of propriety, and always manifested reluctance to
examine the home correspondence: it was, however, also under their
control. As soon as the name of any individual was entered upon the
lists of this important department, his arms and seals were
immediately engraved at the office; and thus his letters, after having
been read, were closed up and delivered without any mark of suspicion.
These circumstances, joined to the serious evils which they might
create, and the important results which they were capable of
producing, constituted the vast responsibility of the office of
postmaster-general, and required that it should be filled by a man of
prudence, judgment, and intelligence.” The Emperor bestowed great
praise on M. de Lavalette, for the way in which he had discharged his
duties.

The Emperor was by no means favourable to the system of inspecting
correspondence. With regard to the diplomatic information thereby
obtained, he did not consider it of sufficient value to counterbalance
the expenses incurred; for the establishment cost 600,000 francs. As
to the examination of the letters of citizens, he regarded that as a
measure calculated to do more harm than good. “It is rarely,” said he,
“that conspiracy is carried on through such channels; and with respect
to the individual opinions obtained from epistolary correspondence,
they may be more dangerous than useful to a sovereign, particularly
among such a people as the French. Of whom will not our national
volatility and fickleness lead us to complain? The man whom I may have
offended at my levee will write to-day that I am a tyrant, though but
yesterday he overwhelmed me with praises, and perhaps to-morrow will
be ready to lay down his life to serve me. The violation of the
privacy of correspondence may, therefore, cause a prince to lose his
best friends, by wrongfully inspiring him with distrust and prejudice
towards all; particularly as enemies capable of mischief are always
sufficiently artful to avoid exposing themselves to that kind of
danger. Some of my ministers were so cautious, in this respect, that I
could never succeed in detecting one of their letters.”

I think I have already mentioned that, on the Emperor’s return from
Elba, there were found in M. De Blacas’ apartments in the Tuileries,
numerous petitions and letters, in which Napoleon was spoken of most
indecorously. He caused them to be burnt. “They would have formed a
most odious collection,” said the Emperor. “For a moment I entertained
the idea of inserting some of them in the Moniteur. They would have
disgraced certain individuals; but they would have afforded no new
lesson on the human heart: men are always the same!”

The Emperor was far from knowing all the measures taken by the police
in his name, with respect to writings and individuals; he had neither
time nor opportunity to enquire into them. He now daily learns from
us, or from pamphlets that happen to fall in his way, the arrests of
individuals, or the suppression of works, of which he had never before
heard.

In alluding to the works that had been suppressed by the police during
his reign, the Emperor observed that, having plenty of leisure-time
during his residence at Elba, he amused himself with glancing over
some of these works, and that he was frequently unable to conceive the
motives which had induced the police to suppress them.

He then proceeded to converse on the subject of the liberty and
restriction of the press. This, he said, was an interminable question,
and admitted of no medium. The grand difficulty, he observed, did not
lie in the principle itself, but in the treatment of the accused
party, or the circumstances under which it might be necessary to apply
the principle taken in an abstract sense. The Emperor would have been
favourable to unlimited liberty. In all our conversations at St.
Helena, he constantly treated every great question in the same point
of view and with the same arguments. Thus Napoleon truly was, and must
remain in the eyes of posterity, the type, the standard, and the
prince of liberal opinions; they belonged to his heart, to his
principles, and to his mind. If his actions sometimes seemed to be at
variance with these ideas, it was when he was imperatively swayed by
circumstances. This is proved by the following fact, to which I now
attach more importance than I did when it first came to my knowledge.

In one of the evening-parties at the Tuileries, Napoleon, conversing
aside with three or four individuals of the Court, who were grouped
around him, closed a discussion on a great political question with the
following remarkable words:—“For my part, I am fundamentally and
naturally favourable to a fixed and moderate government.” And,
observing that the countenance of one of the interlocutors expressed
surprise, “You don’t believe me!” continued he; “why not? Is it
because my deeds do not seem to accord with my words? My dear sir, how
little you know of men and things! Is the necessity of the moment
nothing in your eyes? Were I to slacken the reins only for a moment,
we should have fine disorder; neither you nor I would probably sleep
another night at the Tuileries.”

THE EMPEROR’S FIRST RIDE ON HORSEBACK.—SEVERITY OF THE MINISTERIAL
INSTRUCTIONS.—OUR VEXATIONS AND COMPLAINTS.—THE EMPEROR’S
REMARKS.—RUDE REPLIES.

20th-23rd. The Emperor mounted his horse after breakfast. We directed
our course towards the farm: we found the farmer in the Company’s
garden, and he attended us over the whole of the grounds. The Emperor
asked him a number of questions respecting his farm, as he used to do
during his hunting-excursions in the neighbourhood of Versailles,
where he discussed with the farmers the opinions of the Council of
State, in order to bring forward to the Council in their turn the
objections of the farmers. We advanced through the grounds of
Longwood, in a line parallel with the valley, until, finding no
farther road for the horses, we were compelled to turn back. We then
crossed the little valley, gained the height where the troops were
encamped, advanced to the Alarm Hill, and passing over its summit, we
arrived beyond the camp, near the Alarm House, on the road leading
from Longwood to Madame Bertrand’s residence. The Emperor at first
proposed calling on her; but, when about half-way thither, he changed
his mind, and we returned to Longwood.

The instructions of the English Ministers, with regard to the Emperor
at St. Helena, were dictated in that disgraceful spirit of harshness
which in Europe had urged the solemn violation of the law of nations.
An English officer was to be constantly at the Emperor’s table; this
cruel measure was of course calculated to deprive us of the comforts
of familiar intercourse. The order was not carried into effect, only
because the Emperor, had it been enforced, would have taken his meals
in his own chamber. I have very good reason to believe that he
regretted not having done so on board the Northumberland. An English
officer was to accompany the Emperor in his rides on horseback: this
was a severe annoyance, which rendered it impossible that his mind
could for a moment be diverted from his unfortunate situation. This
order was not, however, enforced within certain limits, which were
prescribed to us, because the Emperor had declared that he would not
ride on horseback at all on such conditions.

In our melancholy situation, every day brought with it some new cause
of uneasiness; we were constantly suffering some new sting, which
seemed the more cruel as we were destined to endure it for a long time
to come. Lacerated as our feelings undoubtedly were, each fresh wound
was sensibly felt; and the motives that were assigned for our
vexations frequently assumed the appearance of irony. Thus sentinels
were posted beneath the Emperor’s windows, and before our doors; and
this we were informed was for our safety. We were impeded in our
communications with the inhabitants of the island; we were put under a
kind of close confinement; and were told that this was done to free
the Emperor from all annoyance. The pass-words and orders were
incessantly changed; we lived in the continual perplexity and
apprehension of being exposed to some unforeseen insult. The Emperor,
whose feelings were keenly alive to all these things, resolved to
write to the Admiral, through the medium of M. de Montholon. He spoke
with warmth, and made some observations worthy of remark. “Let not the
Admiral suppose,” said he, “that I shall treat with him on any of
these subjects. Were he to present himself to me to-morrow, in spite
of my just resentment, he would find my countenance as serene, and my
temper as composed, as usual. This would not be the effect of
dissimulation on my part, but merely the fruit of experience. I
recollect that Lord Whitworth once filled Europe with the report of a
long conversation that he had had with me, scarcely a word of which
was true. But that was my fault; and it taught me to be more cautious
in future. The Emperor has governed too long not to know that he must
not commit himself to the discretion of any one who may have it in his
power to say falsely: _The Emperor told me so and so_; while the
Emperor may not have the means of either affirming or contradicting
the statement.

“One witness is as good as another. It is, therefore, necessary to
employ some one who may be enabled to tell the narrator that, in
attributing such and such words to the Emperor, he lies, and that he
is ready to give him satisfaction for this expression, which the
Emperor himself cannot do.”

M. de Montholon’s letter was couched in sharp terms; the reply was
insulting and coarse: “_No such thing as an Emperor was known at St.
Helena; the justice and moderation of the English government towards
us would be the admiration of future ages, &c._” Dr. O’Meara was
instructed to accompany this written reply with verbal additions of
the most offensive nature: to enquire, for example, whether the
Emperor wished that the Admiral should send him sundry atrocious
libels and anonymous letters which had been received, addressed to
him, &c.

I was engaged with the Emperor at the time this answer was
communicated to him. I could not conceal my astonishment and
indignation at certain expressions that were employed. But we could
only let philosophy take place of resentment: it was sufficient to
reflect that all satisfaction was beyond our reach. To address a
direct complaint to the Prince Regent would perhaps have been to
furnish a gratification to that prince; as well as a recommendation to
him who had offended us. Besides, the Emperor could not address
complaints to any individual on earth: he could appeal only to the
tribunals of Heaven, nations, and posterity.

On the 23rd the Doris frigate arrived from the Cape, bringing seven
horses that had been purchased there for the Emperor.

THE EMPEROR’S DISDAIN OF POPULARITY; HIS REASONS, ARGUMENTS,
&C.—CONVERSATION RESPECTING MY WIFE.—ON GENERAL GOURGAUD’S MOTHER AND
SISTER.

24th.—The Emperor had been reading some publication in which he was
made to speak in too amiable a strain; and he could not help
exclaiming against the mistake of the writer. “How could they put
these words into my mouth?” said he. “This is too tender, too
sentimental, for me: every one knows that I do not express myself in
that way.” “Sire,” I replied, “it was done with a good intention; the
thing is innocent in itself, and may have produced a good effect. That
reputation for amiableness, which you seem to despise, might have
exercised great influence over public opinion; it might at least have
counteracted the effect of the colouring in which a certain European
system has falsely exhibited your Majesty to the world. Your heart,
with which I am now acquainted, is certainly as good as that of Henri
IV., which I did not know. Now, his amiableness of character is still
proverbial: he is still held up as an idol; yet I suspect Henri IV.
was a bit of a quack. And why should your Majesty have disdained to be
so? You have too great an aversion to that system. After all, quackery
rules the world; and it is fortunate when it happens to be only
innocent.”

The Emperor laughed at what he termed my prosing. “What,” said he, ”is
the advantage of popularity and amiableness of character? Who
possessed those qualities in a more eminent degree than the
unfortunate Louis XVI.? Yet what was his fate? His life was
sacrificed!—No! a sovereign must serve his people with dignity, and
not make it his chief study to please them. The best mode of winning
their love is to secure their welfare. Nothing is more dangerous than
for a sovereign to flatter his subjects: if they do not afterwards
obtain every thing they want they become irritated, and fancy that
promises have been broken; and if they are then resisted, their hatred
increases in proportion as they consider themselves deceived. A
sovereign’s first duty is doubtless to conform with the wishes of the
people; but what the people say is scarcely ever what they wish: their
desires and their wants cannot be learned from their own mouths so
well as they are to be read in the heart of their prince.

“Each system may, no doubt, be maintained: that of mildness as well as
that of severity. Each has its advantages and its disadvantages; for
every thing is mutually balanced in this world. If you ask me what was
the use of my severe forms and expressions, I shall answer, to spare
me the pain of inflicting the punishment I threatened. What harm have
I done after all? What blood have I shed? Who can boast that, had he
been placed in my situation, he could have done better? What period of
history, exhibiting any thing like the difficulties with which I was
surrounded, presents such harmless results? What am I reproached with?
My government archives and my private papers were seized; yet what has
there been found to publish to the world? All sovereigns, situated as
I was, amidst factions, disorders, and conspiracies, are surrounded by
murders and executions! Yet, during my reign, what sudden tranquillity
pervaded France!—You are, no doubt, astonished at this chain of
reflection,” continued he, smiling, “you, who frequently display the
mildness and simplicity of a child.”

I could not but admit the force of his arguments, and now, in my turn,
maintained that both systems might have their peculiar advantages.
“Every individual,” said I, “should form a character for himself by
means of education; but he should be careful, at the same time, to lay
its foundation on the character he has received from Nature; otherwise
he runs a risk of losing the advantages of the latter, without
obtaining those of the character which he wishes to acquire; and his
education may prove an instrument to mislead him. After all, the
course of a man’s life is the true result of his character, and the
proper test by which it should be judged. Of what, then, can I have to
complain? From the lowest degree of misery, I raised myself, by my own
efforts, to tolerable independence; and from the streets of London, I
penetrated to the steps of your throne, and to the benches of your
Council-chamber; all this, too, without having cause to blush in the
presence of any individual for any thing that I have ever spoken,
written, or done. Have I not then also performed my little wonders in
my own little way? What could I have done better had another turn been
given to my character?”

The conversation was here interrupted by some one entering, to
announce that the Admiral and some ladies, who had arrived by the
Doris, solicited the favour of being presented to the Emperor; but he
answered drily, that he would see no one, and that he did not wish to
be disturbed.

Under our present circumstances, the personal politeness of the
Admiral was felt only as an additional insult: and with regard to
those who accompanied him, as no one could approach us but with the
Admiral’s permission, the Emperor did not choose that the honours of
his person should be thus performed. If it were intended that he
should remain in close confinement, he ought to be told so; but, if
not, he should be allowed to see whom he pleased without the
interference of any person. Above all, it was not fair that they
should pretend in Europe to surround him with every sort of attention
and respect, while, on the contrary, they were annoying him with every
kind of indecorum and caprice.

The Emperor walked out in the garden at five o’clock. The Colonel of
the 53rd regiment waited on him there, and begged permission to
present to him, next day, the officers of his regiment. The Emperor
granted his request, and appointed three o’clock as the hour to
receive them. The Colonel took his leave, and we prolonged our walk.
The Emperor stopped awhile to look at a flower in one of the beds, and
asked me whether it was not a lily. It was indeed a magnificent one.

After dinner, while we were playing our usual game of _reversis_, of
which, by the by, the Emperor began to grow weary, he suddenly turned
to me and said, “Where do you suppose Madame Las Cases is at this
moment?”—“Alas, Sire,” I replied, “Heaven knows!”—“She is in Paris,”
continued he; “to-day is Tuesday; it is nine o’clock; she is now at
the Opera.”—“No, Sire, she is too good a wife to go to the theatre
while I am here.”—“Spoken like a true husband,” said the Emperor,
laughing, “ever confident and credulous!” Then turning to General
Gourgaud, he rallied him in the same style with respect to his mother
and sister. Gourgaud seemed very much downcast, and his eyes were
suffused with tears, which the Emperor perceiving, cast a side-glance
towards him, and said, in the most interesting manner, “How wicked,
barbarous and tyrannical I must be thus to trifle with feelings so
tender!”[29]

Footnote 29:

General Gourgaud entertained the greatest affection for his mother
and sister, and was equally beloved by them. To such a length did he
carry his regard for them that in his letters he even described St.
Helena as a delightful place, in order to ease their anxiety on his
account. In his letters he talked of nothing but groves of orange
and lemon-trees, and perpetual Spring; in short, every thing that a
romantic imagination could suggest. The English Ministers, however,
blushed not, subsequently, to turn against him these innocent
misrepresentations, the offspring of his filial solicitude!

The Emperor then asked me how many children I had, and when and how I
had become acquainted with Madame Las Cases. I replied that my wife
had been the first acquaintance of my life; that our marriage was a
tie which we had ourselves formed in early youth, yet that it had
required the occurrence of the greater part of the events of the
Revolution to bring about its accomplishment.

THE EMPEROR FREQUENTLY WOUNDED IN HIS CAMPAIGNS.—COSSACKS.—JERUSALEM
DELIVERED.

25th.—The Emperor, who had not been well the preceding evening, was
still indisposed this morning, and sent word that it would be
impossible for him to receive the officers of the 53rd, as he had
appointed. He sent for me about the middle of the day, and we again
perused some chapters of the Campaign of Italy. I compared that which
treats of the battle of Arcole to a book of the Iliad.

Some time before the dinner-hour, he assembled us all around him in
his chamber. A servant entered to announce that dinner was ready; he
sent us away, but, as I was going out last, he called me back. “Stay
here,” said he, “we will dine together. Let the young people go; we
old folks will keep one another company.” He then determined to dress,
intending, as he said, to go into the drawing-room after dinner.

While he was dressing, he put his hand on his left thigh, where there
was a deep scar. He called my attention to it by laying his finger in
it; and, finding that I did not understand what it was, he told me
that it was the mark of a bayonet wound by which he had nearly lost
his limb, at the siege of Toulon. Marchand, who was dressing him, here
took the liberty of remarking that the circumstance was well known on
board the Northumberland; that one of the crew had told him, on going
on board, that it was an Englishman who first wounded our Emperor.

The Emperor, on this, observed that people had in general wondered and
talked a great deal of the singular good fortune which had preserved
him, as it were, invulnerable in so many battles. “They were
mistaken,” added he; “the only reason was that I always made a secret
of all my dangers.” He then related that he had had three horses
killed under him at the siege of Toulon; several others killed and
wounded in his campaigns of Italy; and three or four at the siege of
St. Jean-d’Acre. He added that he had been wounded several times;
that, at the battle of Ratisbon, a ball had struck his heel; and at
the battle of Esling, or Wagram, I cannot say which, another had torn
his boot and stocking, and grazed the skin of his left leg. In 1814,
he lost a horse and his hat at Arcis-sur-Aube, or in its
neighbourhood. After the battle of Brienne, as he was returning to
head-quarters in the evening, in a melancholy and pensive mood, he was
suddenly attacked by some Cossacks, who had passed over into the rear
of the army. He thrust one of them off with his hand, and was obliged
to draw his sword in his own defence; several of the Cossacks were
killed at his side. “But what renders this circumstance very
extraordinary,” said he, “is, that it took place near a tree which at
that moment caught my eye, and which I recognized as the very one
under which, when I was but twelve years old, I used to sit during
play-hours and read _Jerusalem Delivered_.” ... Doubtless on that spot
Napoleon had been first fired by the love of glory!

The Emperor repeated that he had been very frequently exposed to
danger in his different battles, but it was carefully kept secret. He
had enjoined once for all, the most absolute silence on all
circumstances of that nature. He said that it would be impossible to
calculate the confusion and disorder which might have resulted from
the slightest report or the smallest doubt relative to his existence.
On his life depended the fate of a great Empire, and the whole policy
and destinies of Europe. He added that this habit of keeping
circumstances of that kind secret had prevented him from relating them
in his campaigns; and indeed he had now almost forgotten them. It was
only, he said, by mere accident, and in the course of conversation,
that they could recur to him.

MY CONVERSATION WITH AN ENGLISHMAN.

26th.—The Emperor continued indisposed.

One of the English gentlemen, whose wife had yesterday been refused
admittance, in company with the Admiral, paid me a visit this morning,
with the view of making another and a final attempt to get presented
to Napoleon. This gentleman spoke French very well, having resided in
France during the whole of the war. He was one of those individuals
who were known at the time by the title of _detenus_: who, having
visited France as travellers, were arrested there by the First Consul,
on the rupture of the treaty of Amiens, by way of reprisal for the
seizure of our merchant-ships by the English Government, according to
its custom, before the declaration of war. This event gave rise to a
long and animated discussion between the two Governments; and even
prevented, during the whole of the war, a cartel for the exchange of
prisoners. The English ministers persisted in refusing to consider
their detained countrymen as prisoners, lest they should, in so doing,
make an implicit renunciation of what may perhaps be called their
_right of piracy_. However, their obstinacy cost their countrymen a
long captivity. They were detained in France more than ten years;
their absence was as long and as irksome, though not so glorious, as
that of the besiegers of Troy.

This English gentleman was a brother-in-law of Admiral Burton, the
Commander on the Indian station, who lately died. This circumstance
might very possibly procure for him an immediate communication with
Ministers on his arrival in England. He might perhaps have been
appointed by the Admiral to be the bearer of intelligence respecting
us. Instead, therefore, of declining conversation, I prolonged it. It
lasted more than two hours, and was all calculated on my part with a
view to what he might repeat to the Admiral, or communicate to the
Government or private circles in England. I will not tire my readers
by a recital of it. They would only find the same eternal
recapitulation of our reproaches and grievances: a repetition of our
complaints and vexations: a continued exposure of the violation of
those laws that are esteemed most sacred; of the outrage on our good
faith; of the arrogance, impudence, and petty insolence of power. I
dwelt particularly on the ill-treatment to which we were here exposed;
and on the caprices of the individual who was appointed our keeper.
“His glory,” said I, “should consist, not in oppressing, but in
relieving us. He should endeavour to make us forget, by his
attentions, all the rigour and injustice of his country’s policy. Can
he court the reprobation of mankind, when his good fortune enables him
to connect his name gloriously with that of the man of the age, the
hero of history? Can he object that he is bound by his instructions?
But even then, in the spirit of our European manners, honour enables
him to interpret them in a suitable manner.”

The Englishman listened to me with great attention. He seemed
occasionally to take particular interest in what I said; and expressed
his approbation of several of my remarks. But was he sincere, and will
he not express very different sentiments in London?

Whenever a ship arrives in England from St. Helena, the public papers
immediately give insertion to various stories relative to the captives
at Longwood, of so false and absurd a nature, as must necessarily
render them ridiculous to the great mass of the public. When we
expressed our indignation at these idle reports in the presence of
honourable and distinguished Englishmen here, they replied: “Do not
deceive yourselves, these false accounts proceed not from our
countrymen who visit you; but from our Ministers in London; for, to
the excess and violence of power, the administration by which we are
now ruled adds all the meanness of the lowest and vilest intrigues.”

ON THE FRENCH EMIGRANTS.—KINDNESS SHEWN BY
THE ENGLISH.—RESOURCES OF THE EMIGRANTS.

27th.—The Emperor felt himself better, and rode out on horseback about
one o’clock. On his return he received the officers of the 53rd, and
behaved to them in the most amiable and condescending manner.

After this visit, the Emperor, who had desired me to remain with him,
walked in the garden. I there gave him an account of the conversation
I had had the day before with the Englishman. He then asked me some
questions relative to the French emigrants, London, and the English. I
told him that though the emigrants in a body did not like the English,
yet there were few who did not become attached to some Englishman or
other: that though the English were not fond of the emigrants, yet
there were few English families who did not shew themselves friendly
to some of the French. This is the real key to those sentiments and
reports, so often contradictory, that are met with on the subject.
With regard to the kindness we received from the English, particularly
the middle class, from whom the character of a nation is always to be
learned, it is beyond all expression, and has entailed a heavy debt of
gratitude upon us. It would be difficult to enumerate the private
benefactions, the benevolent institutions, and the charitable
measures, by which our distresses were relieved. The example of
individuals induced the Government to assist us by regular allowances;
and even when these were granted, private benevolence did not cease.

The Emperor here asked me whether I had been a sharer in the grants
supplied by the English Government: I told him that I had felt more
pleasure in being indebted for support solely to my own exertions; and
that the state of society and encouragement of industry in England
were such that with this feeling a man was sure to succeed. On two
occasions I had had an opportunity of making my fortune: Colbert,
Bishop of Rhodez, a native of Scotland, who was very fond of me,
proposed that I should accompany his brother to Jamaica, where he was
appointed to the head of the executive power, and where he was one of
the most considerable planters. He would have intrusted to me the
direction of his property, and would have obtained for me other
employment of the same kind. The Bishop assured me that I should make
a fortune in three years. I could not, however, prevail on myself to
go; I preferred continuing a life of poverty, to removing to a greater
distance from the French shore.

“On another occasion,” continued I, “some friends wished to persuade
me to go to India, where I should have obtained employment and
patronage, and was assured that in a short time I should realize a
considerable fortune. But this I declined. I thought myself too old to
travel so far. This was twenty years ago; and yet I am now at St.
Helena.

“However, there were few who suffered greater hardships than I did at
the commencement of my emigration, and who enjoyed greater comforts
towards its close. I have more than once found myself on the point of
being entirely destitute of every thing. Still I was never discouraged
or dejected. I consoled myself with the treasure of philosophy, and
compared my own condition with that of numbers around me, who were
more wretched than myself: to old men and women, for example, to those
who were destitute of education, or who, wanting the faculties
requisite for acquiring a foreign language, were thus cut off from all
resources. I was young, full of hope, and capable of exertion. I
taught what I did not well know myself, whatever was asked of me, and
I learned over-night what I might have to teach on the succeeding day.
My Historical Atlas was a fortunate idea, which opened to me a mine of
gold. At that period, however, I had executed only an outline of my
plan; but in London every thing is encouraged, every thing sells; and,
moreover, Heaven blessed my exertions. I landed at the mouth of the
Thames, and reached London on foot, with only seven louis in my
pocket, without a friend, without an introduction, in a foreign land;
but I left it in a post-chaise, possessed of 2500 guineas, having
gained many dear friends, to serve whom I would gladly have sacrificed
my life.”

“But, supposing I had been an emigrant,” said the Emperor, “what would
have been my lot?” He took a view of various professions, but decided
in favour of a soldier’s life. “I should have fulfilled my career
after all,” said he.—“That is not quite certain,” I observed. “Sire,
you would have been smothered in the crowd. On arriving at Coblentz in
any French corps, you would have been placed according to your rank on
the list, without any possibility of getting beyond it; for we were
rigid observers of forms,” &c.

The Emperor then enquired when and how I had returned to France.
“After the peace of Amiens,” said I, “availing myself of the benefit
of your amnesty; yet I joined an English family, and slipped in in a
sort of contraband way, in order to reach Paris earlier than I
otherwise could have done. Immediately on my arrival there, fearing
lest I should compromise that family, I went in person to make my
declaration to the police, and received a paper which I was to present
for inspection once a week or once a month. I paid no attention to it;
but nothing happened to me through my neglect. I had determined on
conducting myself with prudence, and therefore felt satisfied that I
had nothing to fear. At one time, however, I saw that my intention
might have cost me dear: it was during the most violent crisis of the
affair of Georges and Pichegru. I usually passed my evenings in the
society of intimate friends in my own house; I scarcely ever went out.
On this occasion, however, impelled by fate, or, perhaps, by the
strong interest which I took in passing events, I strolled about in
the Faubourg Saint-Germain till rather a late hour in the evening. I
missed the way to the Pont de Louis XVI. which I knew so well, and
came out upon the Boulevard des Invalides, without knowing where I
was. The posts were everywhere increased in number, and each consisted
of a doubled guard. I enquired my way of one of the sentinels, and I
distinctly heard his comrade, who was a few yards off, ask him why he
had not stopped me; he answered that I was doing no harm. I hastened
home as fast as I could, terrified at the danger I had so narrowly
escaped. I was in formal contravention to the police: the
circumstances of my emigration, my name, my habits, and my opinions,
all tended to identify me with the malcontents. Every enquiry that
could have been instituted respecting me would have been to my
prejudice. I could not have referred to any one; and what alarmed me
still more was that they would have found five guineas in my pocket. I
had, it is true, been in France two years; but these guineas were the
last fruits of my industry: I always carried them about me, and I have
them with me still. I used to take a pleasure in seeing them: they
reminded me of a period of misfortune which had gone by. It is easy to
conceive the conclusions which might have been drawn from so many
concurring circumstances. In vain would have been my denials and
assertions; no credit would have been given to me. I should, no doubt,
have suffered considerably; and yet I was not in the least to blame:
such is the justice of men! However, I never took the trouble to
arrange my business with the police; and yet I never got into any
difficulty.

“When I was presented at your Majesty’s court, the emigrants, who were
in the same situation as myself, and had been placed under the
superintendence of the police for ten years, applied for their
emancipation, which they procured; for my part, I determined to let my
_surveillance_ die a natural death. Being invited, in your Majesty’s
name, to a fête at Fontainebleau, I thought it would be a good jest to
apply to the police for a passport. They agreed that it was, strictly
speaking, necessary, but declined giving it, on the ground that it
would tend to make government ridiculous. At a subsequent period,
having become your Majesty’s Chamberlain, I had occasion to go on a
private journey; and they then exempted me from all future formality.

“On your Majesty’s return in 1815, being desirous of serving some
emigrants who had returned with the King, I went in their name to the
police. Being a Councillor of State, all the registers were open to
me. After having inspected the article relating to my friends, I felt
a curiosity to refer to my own. I found myself designated as a
distinguished courtier of the Comte d’Artois, in London. I could not
help reflecting on the differences of times, and the changes produced
by revolution. However, my register was altogether incorrect. I
certainly visited the Comte d’Artois; but not oftener than once a
month. As to my being a courtier, if I had been ever so much inclined
to be one, the thing was out of my power. I had to provide for my
daily subsistence, and I had pride enough to wish to live by my own
industry; my time was therefore valuable.” The Emperor was very much
amused by my story, and I felt much pleasure in relating it to him.

The Doris frigate sailed this day for Europe.

28th.—Mr. Balcombe’s family called, in the hope of seeing the Emperor,
but he was again indisposed. His health declines; this place is
evidently unfavourable to him. He sent for me at three o’clock; he was
slightly feverish, but felt himself better. He spoke a good deal of
the domestic arrangements of the house, which sometimes annoyed him.
He then dressed, with the intention of going out. I persuaded him to
resume his flannel under-waistcoat, which he had laid aside very
imprudently in this damp and variable climate. We took a walk in the
garden, and the conversation continued to turn on the same subject as
before. The Emperor strolled about at random, and we came to the
gum-trees which run along the park, conversing on our local situation,
and our relations with the authorities, and speculating on the
political events of Europe. We were overtaken by a shower of rain, and
were forced to take shelter under a tree. The Grand Marshal and M. de
Montholon soon joined us. The Emperor made me return with him; and
when we got home, he played a game at piquet in the drawing-room with
Madame de Montholon. As it was very damp, the Emperor ordered a fire;
but as soon as it was lighted, we were driven away by the smoke, and
were compelled to take refuge in the Emperor’s chamber. Here the game
was resumed; but it was very soon suspended by the Emperor’s
conversation, which became most interesting. He entertained us with
anecdotes and minute details of his domestic life; and confirmed,
corrected, or contradicted those which Madame de Montholon and myself
related to him, as having been publicly circulated. Nothing could be
more gratifying: the conversation was quite confidential, and we
sincerely regretted its interruption by the announcement of dinner.

DIFFICULT EXCURSION.—RIDE TO THE VALLEY.—THE
MARSH.—CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS.—ENGLISHMEN
UNDECEIVED.—POISON OF MITHRIDATES.

29th.—There is a spot in the grounds about Longwood, which commands a
distant view of that part of the sea where the ships are first seen on
their arrival: here, too, is a tree at the foot of which the spectator
may survey it at his ease. I had been in the habit, for some days, of
spending a few idle moments here, amusing myself, in idea, with
looking out for the ship that was to conclude our exile. The
celebrated Münich lingered out twenty years in the heart of Siberia,
drinking every day to his return to St. Petersburg, and was at length
blessed with the accomplishment of his wish. I shall possess his
courage; but I trust I shall not have occasion for his patience.