Part 25

The admiral took great pains to point out to us even the minutest details at Longwood. He had superintended all the arrangements, and some things were even the work of his own hands. The Emperor was satisfied with every thing, and the Admiral seemed highly pleased. He had evidently anticipated petulance and disdain; but the Emperor manifested perfect good-humour.

He retired at six o’clock, and beckoned me to follow him to his chamber. Here he examined various articles of furniture, and enquired whether I was similarly provided. On my replying in the negative, he insisted on my accepting them; saying in the most engaging manner, “Take them; I shall want for nothing: I shall be taken better care of than you.” He felt much fatigued, and he asked whether he did not look so. This was the consequence of having passed five months in absolute inactivity. He had walked a good deal in the morning, besides riding some miles on horseback.

Our new residence was provided with a bathing machine, which the Admiral had ordered the carpenters to fit up in the best way they could. The Emperor, who since he quitted Malmaison, had been obliged to dispense with the use of the bath, which to him had become one of the necessaries of life, expressed a wish to bathe immediately, and directed me to remain with him. The most trivial details of our new establishment came once more under consideration; and, as the apartment which had been assigned to me was very bad, the Emperor expressed a wish that, during the day, I should occupy what he called his topographic cabinet, which adjoined his own private closet, in order, as he said, that I might be nearer to him. I was much affected by the kind manner in which all this was spoken. He even went so far as to repeat to me several times that I must come next morning and take a bath in his machine; and when I excused myself on the ground of the respect and the distance which ought to be kept up between us, “My dear Las Cases,” said he, “fellow prisoners should accommodate each other. I do not want the bath all day, and it is not less necessary to you than to me.” One would have supposed that he wished to indemnify me for the loss that I was about to sustain, in being no longer the only individual about his person. This kindness delighted me, it is true; but it also produced a feeling of regret. The kindness of the Emperor was doubtless the reward of my assiduous attentions at Briars; but it also gave me cause to anticipate the close of that constant intercourse with him, for which I had been indebted to our profound solitude. The Emperor, not wishing to dress again, dined in his own room, and desired me to remain with him. We were alone, and our conversation turned on a subject of a peculiar nature, the result of which may be exceedingly important. He asked my opinion, and told me to communicate it to him next morning.

DESCRIPTION OF LONGWOOD.

11th—14th. We now found unfolded to us a new portion of our existence on the wretched rock of St. Helena. We were settled in our new abode, and the limits of our prison were marked out.

Longwood, which was originally merely a farm-house belonging to the East India Company, and which was afterwards given as a country residence to the Deputy Governor, is situated on one of the highest parts of the Island. The difference of the temperature between this place and the valley where we landed is marked by a variation of at least ten degrees of the English thermometer. Longwood stands on a level height, which is tolerably extensive on the eastern side, and pretty near the coast. Continual and frequently violent gales, always blowing in the same quarter, sweep the surface of the ground. The sun, though it rarely appears, nevertheless exercises its influence on the atmosphere, which is apt to produce disorders of the liver, if due precaution be not observed. Heavy and sudden falls of rain complete the impossibility of distinguishing any regular season. But there is no regular course of seasons at Longwood. The whole year presents a continuance of wind, clouds, and rain; and the temperature is of that mild and monotonous kind which, perhaps, after all, is rather conducive to _ennui_ than disease. Notwithstanding the abundant rains, the grass rapidly disappears, being either nipped by the wind or withered by the heat. The water, which is conveyed hither by a conduit, is so unwholesome that the Deputy Governor, when he lived at Longwood, never suffered it to be used in his family until it had been boiled; and we are obliged to do the same. The trees, which, at a distance, impart a smiling aspect to the scene, are merely gum trees—a wretched kind of shrub, affording no shade. On one side the horizon is bounded by the vast ocean; but the rest of the scene presents only a mass of huge barren rocks, deep gulfs, and desolate valleys; and, in the distance, appears the green and misty chain of mountains, above which towers Diana’s Peak. In short, Longwood can be pleasing only after the fatigues of a long voyage, when the sight of any land is a cheering prospect. Arriving at St. Helena on a fine day, the traveller may, perhaps, be struck with the singularity of the objects which suddenly present themselves, and exclaim “How beautiful!” but his visit is momentary; and what pain does not his hasty admiration cause to the unhappy captives who are doomed to pass their lives at St. Helena!

Workmen had been constantly employed for two months in preparing Longwood for our reception; the result of their labours, however, amounted to little. The entrance to the house was by a room which had just been built, and which was intended to answer the double purpose of an ante-chamber and a dining room. This apartment led to another, which was made the drawing room; beyond this was a third room running in a cross direction and very dark. This was intended to be the depository of the Emperor’s maps and books; but it was afterwards converted into the dining room. The Emperor’s chamber opened into this apartment on the right-hand side. This chamber was divided into two equal parts, forming the Emperor’s cabinet and sleeping room: a little external gallery served for a bathing-room. Opposite to the Emperor’s chamber, at the other extremity of the building, were the apartments of Madame de Montholon, her husband, and her son, which have since been used as the Emperor’s library. Detached from this part of the house was a little square room on the ground floor contiguous to the kitchen, which was assigned to me. My son was obliged to enter his room through a trap-door and by the help of a ladder; it was nothing but a loft, and scarcely afforded room for his bed. Our windows and beds were without curtains. The few articles of furniture which were in our apartments had evidently been obtained from the inhabitants of the island, who doubtless readily seized the opportunity of disposing of them to advantage for the sake of supplying themselves with better.

[Illustration:

RESIDENCE OF NAPOLEON AT LONGWOOD.

London: Published for Henry Colburn, Feb. 1836. ]

The Grand Marshal, with his wife and children, had been left at the distance of two miles behind us, in a place denominated Hut’s-Gate. General Gourgaud slept under a tent, as did also the Doctor,[27] and the officer commanding our guard, till such time as their apartments should be ready, which the crew of the Northumberland were rapidly preparing.

Footnote 27:

Dr. O’Meara of the Northumberland.

We were surrounded by a kind of garden; but, owing to the little attention which we had it in our power to bestow on its cultivation, joined to the want of water and the nature of the climate, it was a garden only in name. In front, and separated from us by a tolerably deep ravine, was encamped the fifty-third regiment, different parties of which were posted on the neighbouring heights.—Such was our new abode.

On the 12th, Colonel Wilks (formerly Governor for the East India Company), who had been succeeded by the Admiral, came to visit the Emperor. I acted as interpreter on the occasion. On the 13th or 14th the Minden sailed for Europe, and I availed myself of the opportunity thus afforded to send letters to London and Paris.

ARRANGEMENT OF THE EMPEROR’S ESTABLISHMENT.—FEELINGS OF THE CAPTIVES WITH RESPECT TO EACH OTHER.—TRAITS OF THE EMPEROR’S CHARACTER.—PORTRAIT OF NAPOLEON BY M. DE PRADT, TRANSLATED FROM AN ENGLISH NEWSPAPER.—ITS REFUTATION.

15th—16th. The domestic establishment of the Emperor, on his departure from Plymouth, consisted of twelve persons. I feel pleasure in recording their names here: it is a testimony due to their attachment.[28] However numerous this establishment may appear, it may be truly said that after our departure from England, during the voyage, and from the time of our landing at St. Helena, it had ceased to be serviceable to the Emperor. Our dispersion, the uncertainty of our establishment, our wants, and the irregular way in which they were supplied, necessarily created disorder.

Footnote 28:

Persons composing the Emperor’s household.

SERVANTS OF THE CHAMBER.

Marchand, native of Paris, 1st valet de chambre.

St. Denis, called native of valet de chambre. Aly, Versailles,

Noverraz, Swiss, ditto.

Santini, Corsican, usher.

SERVANTS IN LIVERY.

Archambault, sen. native of groom. Fontainebleau,

Archambault, jun. ditto, ditto.

Gentilini, native of Elba, footman.

SERVANTS FOR THE TABLE.

Cypriani, Corsican, died at maître d’hotel. St. Helena,

Pierron, native of Paris, butler.

Lepage, cook.

Rousseau, native of steward. Fontainebleau,

As soon as we were all assembled at Longwood, the Emperor determined to arrange his establishment, and to assign to each of us an employment suited to our respective capacities. Reserving to the Grand Marshal the general control and superintendence of the whole household; he consigned to M. de Montholon all the domestic details. To M. Gourgaud he intrusted the direction of the stables: and I was appointed to take care of the property and furniture, and to superintend the management of our supplies. The latter part of my duty appeared to interfere too much with the regulation of domestic details. I conceived that it would be conducive to the general advantage, if these two departments were under the control of one individual, and I soon succeeded in accomplishing this object.

Every thing now proceeded tolerably well, and we were certainly more comfortable than before. But, however reasonable might be the regulations made by the Emperor, they, nevertheless, sowed the seeds of discontent, which took root, and occasionally developed themselves. One thought himself a loser by the change; another sought to attach too high an importance to his office; and a third conceived that he had been wronged in the general division of duties. We were no longer the members of one family, each exerting his best endeavours to secure the advantage of the whole. We were far from putting into practice that which necessity seemed to dictate to us; and a wreck of luxury, or a remnant of ambition, frequently became an object of dispute.

Though attachment to the person of the Emperor had united us around him, yet chance, and not sympathy, had brought us together. Our connexion was purely fortuitous, and not the result of any natural affinity. Thus, at Longwood, we were encircled round a centre, but without any cohesion with each other. How could it be otherwise? We were almost all strangers to one another, and, unfortunately, our different conditions, ages, and characters, were calculated to make us continue so.

These circumstances, though in themselves trifling, had the vexatious effect of depriving us of our most agreeable resources. They banished that confidence, that interchange of sentiment, and that intimate union, which are calculated to soothe even the most cruel misfortunes. But, on the other hand, these very circumstances served to develope many excellent traits in the Emperor’s character. They were apparent in his endeavours to produce among us unity and conformity of sentiment; his constant care to remove every just cause of jealousy; the voluntary abstraction by which he averted his attention from that which he wished not to observe; and finally, the paternal expressions of displeasure, of which we were occasionally the objects, and which (to the honour of all be it said) were avoided as cautiously, and received as respectfully, as though they had emanated from the throne of the Tuileries.

Who in the world can now pretend to know the Emperor in his character of a private man better than myself?—Who else was with him during two months of solitude in the desert of Briars?—Who else accompanied him in his long walks by moonlight, and enjoyed so many hours in his society? Who, like me, had the opportunity of choosing the moment, the place, and the subject of his conversation? Who, besides myself, heard him call to mind the charms of his boyhood, or describe the pleasures of his youth, and the bitterness of his recent sorrow? I am convinced that I know his character thoroughly, and that I can now explain many circumstances which, at the time of their occurrence, seemed to many difficult to be understood. I can now very well comprehend that which struck us so forcibly, and which particularly characterized him in the days of his power; namely, that no individual ever permanently incurred the displeasure of Napoleon: however marked might be his disgrace, however deep the gulf into which he was plunged, he might still confidently hope to be restored to favour. Those who had once enjoyed intimacy, whatever cause of offence they might give him, never totally forfeited his regard. The Emperor is eminently gifted with two excellent qualities;—a vast fund of justice, and a disposition naturally prone to attachment. Amidst all his vexations and fits of anger, a sentiment of justice still predominates. He is sure to turn an attentive ear to sound arguments, and, if left to himself, candidly brings them forward whenever they occur to his mind. He never forgets services performed for him, nor habits he has contracted. Sooner or later he invariably casts a thought on those who may have incurred his displeasure; he reflects on what they have suffered, considers their punishment as sufficient, recals them, when they are perhaps forgotten by the world; and they again enjoy his good graces, to the astonishment of themselves as well as of others. Of this there have been many instances. The Emperor is sincere in his attachments, without making a show of what he feels. When once he becomes used to a person, he cannot easily bear separation. He observes and condemns his faults, blames his own choice, expressing his displeasure in the most unreserved way; but still there is nothing to fear: these are but so many new ties of regard.

It will probably be a matter of surprise that I should sketch the Emperor’s character in so simple a style. All that is usually written about him is so far fetched: it has been thought necessary to employ antitheses and brilliant colouring; to seek for effect, and to rack the imagination for high-flown phrases. For my own part, I merely describe what I see, and express what I feel. This reflection, by the by, comes _à propos_.

The Emperor was to-day reading with me, in the English papers, a portrait of himself, drawn by the Archbishop of Malines, and worked up with innumerable witticisms, affected antitheses and contrasts. He desired the Grand Marshal to transcribe it word for word. The following are the principal points: “The mind of Napoleon,” says the Abbé de Pradt, in his _Embassy to Warsaw, in 1812_, “was vast; but after the manner of the Orientals: and through a contradictory disposition, it descended as it were, by the effect of its own weight, to details which might justly be called low. His first idea was always grand, and his second mean and petty. His mind was like his purse; munificence and meanness held each a string. His genius, which was at once adapted to the stage of the world, and the mountebank’s show, resembled a royal robe joined to a harlequin’s jacket. He was the man of extremes; one, who having commanded the Alps to bow down, the Simplon to smooth its ruggedness, and the sea to advance or recede from its shores, ended by surrendering himself to an English cruiser. Endowed with wonderful and infinite shrewdness; glittering with wit; seizing or creating, in every question, new and unperceived relations; abounding in lively and picturesque images, animated and pointed expressions, the more forcible from the very incorrectness of his language, which always bore a sort of foreign impress; sophistical, subtle, and changeable, to excess, he adopted different rules of optics from those by which other men are guided. Add to this the delirium of success, the habit of drinking from the enchanted cup, and intoxicating himself with the incense of the world: and you may form an idea of the man who, uniting in his caprices all that is lofty and mean in the human character, majestic in the splendour of sovereignty, and peremptory in command, with all that is ignoble and base, even in his grandest achievements, joining the treacherous ambush to the subversion of thrones—presents altogether such a Jupiter-Scapin, as never before figured on the scene of life.”

Certainly here is abundance of wit, and of the most studied kind. I pass over the indecorous and disgraceful fact that a reverend prelate, an Archbishop loaded with the bounty of his sovereign, to whom, during his prosperity, he paid the most assiduous court, and offered the most abject flattery, should, in the adversity of that sovereign, indulge in language so trivial, grotesque, and insulting, as that above quoted. Without noticing the _harlequin’s coat_, and _Jupiter-Scapin_, I shall merely dwell on the merit of the Abbé de Pradt’s judgment, when he says that “the Emperor’s first idea is always grand, and his second petty; that he is the man of extremes: one who having commanded the Alps to bow down, the Simplon to smooth its ruggedness, and the sea to advance and recede from its shores, ended by surrendering himself to an English cruiser.” The Abbé de Pradt must have formed but a faint idea of the sublimity, grandeur, and magnanimity of that noble act. To withdraw himself from a people who were misled by faithless intriguers, in order to remove every obstacle to their welfare: to sacrifice his own personal interests, for the sake of averting the evils of a civil war without national results: to disdain honourable and secure, but dependent, asylums: to prefer taking refuge among a people to whom he had, for the space of twenty years, been an inveterate foe: to suppose their magnanimity equal to his own: to honour their laws so far as to believe that they would protect him from the ostracism of Europe:—certainly such ideas and sentiments are not the reverse of sublime, noble, and great.

At this part of my journal were inserted several pages, full of details very discreditable to the Archbishop of Malines, which were received from the Emperor’s own mouth, or collected from the different individuals about him. I however strike them out, in consideration of the satisfaction which I was informed the Emperor subsequently experienced in perusing M. de Pradt’s _Concordats_. For my own part, I am perfectly satisfied with numerous other testimonies of the same nature, and derived from the same source. An honourable and voluntary acknowledgment is a thousand times better than all the retorts that can be heaped upon an offender. There are persons to whom atonement is not without its due weight; I am one of these.

Just as I had written the above, I happened to read some lines from the pen of the Abbé de Pradt, which are certainly very fine with respect to diction; but which are still finer on account of their justice and truth. I cannot refrain from transcribing them here; as they make ample amends for those already quoted. A declaration of the Allied Sovereigns at Laybach, in which Napoleon was, in terms of reprobation, pronounced to be the representative of the Revolution, called forth the following observations from the Archbishop of Malines:—

“It is too late to insult Napoleon, now that he is defenceless, after having for so many years crouched at his feet, while he had the power to punish.... Those who are armed should respect a disarmed enemy, and the glory of the conqueror depends in a great measure on the consideration shewn towards the captive, particularly when he yields to superior force, not to superior genius. It is too late to call Napoleon a revolutionist, after having for such a length of time pronounced him to be the restorer of order in France, and, through France, in Europe. It is too late for those to aim the shaft of insult at him who once stretched forth their hands to him as a friend, pledged their faith to him as an ally, and sought to prop a tottering throne by mingling their blood with his.” Farther on he says: “_He the representative of the revolution!_ The revolution broke the bonds of union between France and Rome: he renewed them. The revolution overthrew the temples of the Almighty: he restored them. The revolution created two classes of clergy hostile to each other: he reconciled them. The revolution profaned St. Denis: he purified it, and offered expiation to the ashes of Kings. The revolution subverted the throne: he raised it up, and gave it a new lustre. The revolution banished from their country the nobility of France: he opened to them the gates of France and of his palace, though he knew them to be his irreconcileable enemies, and for the most part the enemies of the public institutions; he reincorporated them with the society from which they had been separated. This _representative of a revolution_, which is distinguished by the epithet anti-social, brought from Rome the head of the Catholic Church, to anoint his brow with the oil that consecrates diadems! This _representative of a revolution_, which has been declared hostile to sovereignty, filled Germany with kings, advanced the rank of princes, restored superior royalty, and re-constructed a defaced model. This _representative of a revolution_ which is condemned as a principle of anarchy, like another Justinian, drew up, amidst the din of war and the snares of foreign policy, those codes which are the least defective portion of human legislature, and constructed the most vigorous machine of government in the whole world. This _representative of a revolution_, which is vulgarly accused of having subverted all institutions, restored universities and public schools, filled his empire with the masterpieces of art, and accomplished those amazing and stupendous works which reflect honour on human genius: and yet, in the face of the Alps, which bowed down at his command; of the ocean, subdued at Cherbourg, at Flushing, at the Helder, and at Antwerp; of rivers, smoothly flowing beneath the bridges of Jena, Serres, Bourdeaux, and Turin; of canals, uniting seas together in a course beyond the control of Neptune; finally, in the face of Paris, metamorphosed as it is by Napoleon,—he is pronounced to be the agent of general destruction! He who restored all, is said to be the _representative_ of that which destroyed all! To what undiscerning men is this language supposed to be addressed? &c.”

MY SITUATION MATERIALLY IMPROVED.—MY BED-CHAMBER CHANGED, &C.