Part 30

10th.—About four o’clock the Emperor desired me to be called into his room: he was dressed, and had his boots on; his intention was either to get on horseback, or to take a walk in the garden; but a gentle shower of rain was falling. We walked about in conversation, waiting for the weather to clear up. He opened the door of his room leading to the topographical cabinet, in order that we might extend our walk the whole length of this cabinet. As we approached the bed, he asked me if I always slept in it. I answered that I had ceased to do so from the moment that I became acquainted with his wish of going out early in the morning. “What has that to do with it?” said he: “return to it; I shall go out when I please, by the back-door.” The drawing-room door stood half open, and he entered it; Montholon and Gourgaud were there. They were endeavouring to fix a very pretty lustre, and a small glass over the chimney-piece: the Emperor desired the latter might be set straight, as it inclined a little on one side. He was much pleased at this improvement in the drawing-room furniture; a proof that every thing is relative! What could these objects have been in the eyes of a man who, some years ago, had furniture to the value of forty millions in his palaces?

We returned to the topographical cabinet: the rain continued to fall, he gave up his promenade; but he regretted that the Grand Marshal had not arrived; he felt himself this day inclined for work, which he had discontinued for a fortnight. He endeavoured to kill time, whilst waiting for Bertrand. “Let us go and see Madame de Montholon,” said he to me. I announced him; he sat down, made me do the same; and we talked about furniture and housekeeping. He then began to form an inventory of the articles in the apartment, piece by piece; and we all agreed that the furniture was not worth more than thirty Napoleons. Leaving Madame de Montholon’s, he ran from room to room, and stopped in front of the staircase in the corridor which leads to the servants’ room above; it is a kind of very steep ladder. “Let us look at Marchand’s apartment,” said he; “they say that he keeps it like that of a _petite maîtresse_.” We climbed up; Marchand was there; his little room is clean; he has pasted paper upon it, which he has painted himself. His bed was without curtains: Marchand does not sleep so far from his master’s door; at Briars, he and the two other valets-de-chambre constantly slept upon the ground, across the Emperor’s doorway, so close that, whenever I came away late, I was obliged to step over them. The Emperor ordered the presses to be opened; they contained nothing but his linen and his clothes; the whole was not considerable, yet he was astonished to find himself still so rich. “How many pair of spurs have I?” said he, taking up a pair. “Four pair,” answered Marchand. “Are any of them more remarkable than the rest?”—“No, Sire.”—“Well, I will give a pair of them to Las Cases. Are these old?” “Yes, Sire, they are almost worn out; your Majesty wore them in the campaign of Dresden, and in that of Paris.”—“Here,” said he, giving them to me; “these are for you.” I could have wished that he would have permitted me to receive them on my knees. I felt that I was really receiving something connected with the glorious days of Champaubert, Montmirail, Nangis, Montereau! Was there ever a more appropriate memorial of chivalry, in the times of Amadis? “Your Majesty is making me a knight,” said I; “but how am I to win these spurs? I cannot pretend to achieve any feat of arms; and as to love and devotion, Sire, all I have to bestow has long since been disposed of.”

Still the Grand Marshal did not arrive, and the Emperor wished to set to work. “You cannot write any longer then?” he said to me. “Your eyesight is quite gone.” Ever since we had been here I had given up work entirely; my eyesight failed me, which made me extremely melancholy. “Yes, sire,” I replied, “it is entirely gone; and I am grieved that I lost it in the Campaign of Italy, without enjoying the happiness and glory of having served in it.”—He endeavoured to console me, by telling me that I should recover my eyesight, beyond a doubt, by repose, adding, “Oh why did they not leave us Planat! that good young man would now be of great service to me.” And he desired General Gourgaud to come, that he might dictate to him.

ADMIRAL TAYLOR, &C.

11th.—As I was walking after breakfast, about half-past twelve, before the gate, I saw a numerous cavalcade approaching, preceded by the Colonel of the 53rd: it was Admiral Taylor, who had arrived the evening before with his squadron from the Cape, and was to leave us the next day but one for Europe. Among his captains was his son, who had lost his arm at the battle of Trafalgar, where his father commanded the Tonnant.

Admiral Taylor said he was come to pay his respects to the Emperor; but he had just received for answer that he was unwell; at which the Admiral was much disappointed. I observed to him that the climate of Longwood was very unfavourable to Napoleon. I chose an unlucky time for making this observation, as the sky was beautiful, and the place displayed at this moment all the illusion which it is capable of producing: the Admiral did not fail to remark that the situation was charming. I replied, in a tone of genuine sorrow: “Yes, Admiral, to-day, and for you, who only remain a quarter of an hour in it.” At this he seemed quite disconcerted, began to make excuses, and begged me to pardon him for having made use of what he called an impertinent expression. I must render justice to the peculiar urbanity of manner which he evinced on this occasion.

THE EMPEROR AIMED AT BY A SOLDIER.—OUR EVENING AMUSEMENTS.—NOVELS.—POLITICAL REMARKS.

12th—14th. The Emperor had now for several days left off his excursions on horseback. The result of his attempt to resume them, on the 12th, was neither calculated to revive his partiality for this amusement, nor to render it once more habitual to him. We had cleared our valley as usual, and were re-ascending at the back part opposite Longwood, when a soldier from one of the heights, where there had hitherto been no post, called out several times, and made various signs to us. As we were in the very centre of our circuit, we paid no attention to him. He then came running down towards us, out of breath, charging his piece as he ran. General Gourgaud remained behind, to see what he wanted, while we continued our route. I could see the General, after dodging the fellow many times, collar and secure him: he made him follow him as far as the neighbouring post by the Grand Marshal’s, which the General endeavoured to make him enter, but he escaped from him. He found that he was a drunken corporal, who had not rightly understood his watchword. He had frequently levelled his piece at us. This circumstance, which might have been very easily repeated, made us tremble for the Emperor’s life: the latter looked upon it only as an affront, and a fresh obstacle to the continuance of his exercises on horseback.

Napoleon had ceased giving invitations to dinner: the hours, the distance, the dressing, were inconvenient to the guests: to us these

## parties produced only trouble and constraint, without any pleasure.

The Emperor had by degrees resumed his regular work. He now dictated daily to the Grand Marshal upon the expedition to Egypt; some time before dinner he ordered me and my son to be called to him, in order to read the different chapters of the Campaigns of Italy over again, and separate them into paragraphs. Reversis had gone out of fashion; the Emperor had given it up. The time after dinner was henceforth devoted to the reading of some work: the Emperor himself read aloud; when he was tired, he handed the book over to some other person; but then he never could bear their reading more than a quarter of an hour. We were now reading novels, and we began many which we never finished, _Manon l’ Escaut_ we soon rejected as fit only for the ante-chamber; then followed the _Memoirs of Grammont_, which are so full of wit, but so far from honourable to the morals of the great of that period; the _Chevalier de Faublas_, which is only to be endured at the age of twenty years, &c. Whenever these readings could be protracted to eleven or twelve o’clock, the Emperor seemed truly rejoiced. He called this making conquests over time; and he found such victories not the most easy to gain.

Politics had also their turn. Every three or four weeks, or thereabouts, we received a large packet of journals from Europe; this, like the cut of a whip, set us going again for some days, during which we discussed, analyzed, and re-discussed the news: and afterwards fell again insensibly into our usual melancholy. The last journals had reached us by the Greyhound sloop, which had arrived some days before. They occupied one of the evenings, and gave rise to one of those moments, wherein that ardour and inspiration burst forth from the Emperor, which I have sometimes witnessed in the Council of State, and which escape him from time to time even here.

He took large strides as he walked amongst us, becoming gradually more animated, and only interrupting his discourse by a few moments of meditation.

“Poor France,” said he, “what will be thy lot! Above all, what is become of thy glory!... I suppress the rest, which is of very great length: I _must_ suppress it.”

The papers seeming to say that England desired the dismemberment of France, but that Russia had opposed it, the Emperor said that he expected this; that it was natural that Russia should be dissatisfied at seeing France divided; because she would then have to fear that the different states of Germany would unite against her; whilst, on the other hand, the English aristocracy must be desirous of reducing France to the extremity of weakness, and of establishing despotism upon her ruins. “I know,” said he, “that this is not your opinion,” addressing himself to me; “you are an Englishman.” I replied that it was very difficult to dispute with him; but that it appeared to me that in this same English aristocracy, it must be allowed, there might possibly exist heads sufficiently clear, as well as hearts just enough, to understand that, after having overthrown that which threatened their existence, it might prove advantageous to raise up that which was no longer to be dreaded; that circumstances were now singularly favourable for establishing a new system, which might for ever unite the two nations in their dearest interests, and render them necessary to each other, instead of keeping them in perpetual enmity, &c. The Emperor concluded the conversation by saying that he must be very perverse, without doubt; but that, with every consideration that he could give the subject, he could foresee nothing but catastrophes, massacres, and bloodshed.

ON THE SECRET HISTORY OF THE CABINET OF BONAPARTE, BY GOLDSMITH.—DETAILS, &C.

15th.—When I was on board the Northumberland, I had heard the _Secret History of the Cabinet of Bonaparte_ by Goldsmith, spoken of, and, in my first leisure moments here, I felt an inclination to skim it over; but I met with great difficulty in obtaining it, as the English excused themselves from putting it into my hands, for a considerable time, saying, it was such an abominable libel that they were afraid to let me have it, and were themselves ashamed of it. I was for a long time under the necessity of urging them incessantly, repeating that we were all proof against such civilities; that he who was the object of them only used to laugh at such things, when chance brought them before his eyes; and moreover that, if this work was so bad as it was said to be, it must have failed in its end, and ceased to be hurtful at all. I asked who this Goldsmith, the author, was. I was told, he was an Englishman who ... at Paris, and who, upon his return to England, had endeavoured to avoid ... and at the same time to gain more money, by loading with insults and imprecations that idol to whom he had so long offered incense. I at last obtained the work. It must be confessed that it would be difficult to bring together more horrible and ridiculous abominations than are presented to us in the first pages of this book: rapes, poison, incest, assassination, and all that belongs to them, are heaped by the author upon his hero, and that from his earliest childhood. It is true that the author appears to have given himself little concern about bestowing on these calumnies any air of probability; and that he himself sometimes demonstrates their impossibility, and sometimes refutes them by anachronisms, alibis, and contradictions of every kind; mistakes in the names, persons, and most authentic facts, &c. Thus, for example, when Napoleon was only about ten or twelve years of age, and was confined within the bounds of the Military School, he causes him to commit outrages which would require at least the age of manhood, and a certain degree of liberty, &c. The author makes him undertake what he calls the robberies of Italy, at the head of eight thousand galley-slaves, who had escaped from the bagnio at Toulon. Afterwards, he makes twenty thousand Poles abandon the Austrian ranks to join the standard of the French General, &c. The same author makes Napoleon arrive at Paris in Fructidor, when all the world knows that he never quitted his army. He makes him treat with the Prince of Condé, and ask the hand of the Princess Royal as the price of his treachery. I omit a number of other things equally absurd and impudent. It is evident that, with respect to the loose and ridiculous anecdotes particularly, he only collected all he could hear; but from what source has he drawn his information? The greater part of the anecdotes have certainly had their rise in certain defamatory and malevolent circles of Paris; but, as long as they were on that ground, they still preserved the appearance of some wit, salt, point, colour, some grace in the relation; whilst the stories in this book have evidently descended from the drawing-rooms into the streets, and have only been picked up after rolling in the kennel. The English allowed it to be so coarse that, except to the most vulgar classes of society, the work was a poison which carried its own antidote along with it.

It may probably excite astonishment that I did not lay aside such a production upon reading the first page of it; but its coarseness and vulgarity are so gross that it cannot excite anger: on the other hand, there is no disgust which may not be got over in order to amuse the heavy hours at St. Helena. We consider ourselves fortunate in having any thing to peruse. “Time,” said the Emperor, a few days ago, “is the only thing of which we have too much here.” I therefore continued the work. And besides, I may perhaps be allowed to say that it is not without some pleasure that I now read the absurd tales, the lies, and calumnies, which an author pretends to derive, as usual, from the best authority, relating to objects which I am now so perfectly well acquainted with, and which have become as familiar to me as the details of my own life; and it is likewise gratifying to lay down pages filled with the falsest representations, and exhibiting a portrait purely fanciful to study truth by the side of the real personage, in his own conversation, ever full of novelties and grand ideas.

The Emperor having desired me to come to him this morning after breakfast, I found him in his morning-gown lying on his sofa. The conversation led him to ask me what I was reading at this moment. I replied that it was one of the most notorious and scurrilous libels published against him, and I quoted to him upon the spot some of its most abominable stories. He laughed heartily at them, and desired to see the work. I sent for it, and we went over it together. In passing from one horrid calumny to another, he exclaimed, “_Jesus!_” crossing himself repeatedly—a custom which I have perceived to be familiar with him, in his little friendly circle, whenever he meets with monstrous, impudent, cynical assertions, which excite his indignation and surprise without rousing his anger. As we proceeded, the Emperor analyzed certain facts, and corrected points of which the author might have known something. Sometimes he shrugged up his shoulders out of compassion; at others, he laughed heartily; but he never betrayed the least sign of anger. When he read the article which speaks of his great debaucheries and excesses, the violences and the outrages which he is represented to have committed, he observed that the author, doubtless, wished to make a hero of him in every respect; that he willingly left him to those who had charged him with impotency; that it was for these gentlemen to agree among themselves; adding, merrily, “that every man was not so unlucky as the pleader of Toulouse.” They were in the wrong, however, he continued, to attack him upon the score of morals; him, who, as all the world knew, had so singularly improved them. They could not be ignorant that he was not at all inclined, by nature, to debauchery; and that, moreover, the multiplicity of his affairs would never have allowed him time to indulge in it. When he came to the pages where his mother was described as acting the most disgusting and abject part at Marseilles, he stopped, and repeated several times with an accent of indignation, and something approaching to grief, “Ah! Madame!—Poor Madame!—with her lofty character! if she were to read this!—Great God!”

We thus passed more than two hours, after which he began to dress. Doctor O’Meara was introduced to him: it was the usual hour of his being admitted. “_Dottore_,” said the Emperor to him in Italian, whilst he was shaving himself, “I have just read one of your fine London productions against me.” The Doctor’s countenance indicated a wish to know what it was. I shewed him the book at a distance; it was himself who had lent it to me: he was disconcerted. “It is a very just remark,” continued the Emperor, “that it is the truth only which gives offence. I have not been angry for a moment; but I have frequently laughed at it.” The Doctor endeavoured to reply, and puzzled himself with high-flown sentences: it was, he said, an infamous, disgusting libel; every body knew it to be such; nobody paid any attention to it: nevertheless, persons might be found who would believe it, from its not having been replied to. “But how can that be helped?” said the Emperor. “If it should enter any one’s head to put in print that I had grown hairy, and walked on all fours, there are people who would believe it, and would say that God had punished me as he did Nebuchadnezzar. And what could I do? There is no remedy in such cases.” The Doctor went away, hardly able to believe the gaiety, the indifference, the good-nature of which he had just been witness: with regard to ourselves, we were now accustomed to it.

THE EMPEROR RESOLVES TO LEARN ENGLISH, &C.

16th.—About three o’clock the Emperor desired me to come and converse with him whilst he was dressing himself; we afterwards took a few turns in the garden. He observed, accidentally, that it was a shame he could not yet read English. I assured him that, if he had continued his lessons after the two that I had given when we were off Madeira, he would now be able to read every kind of English books. He was thoroughly persuaded of this, and ordered me to oblige him henceforth to take a lesson every day. The conversation then led me to observe that I had just given my son his first lesson in mathematics. It is a branch of knowledge which the Emperor is very fond of, and in which he is particularly skilled. He was astonished that I could teach my son so much without the help of any work, and without any copy-book; he said, he did not know that I was so learned in this way, and threatened me with examining, when I did not expect it, both the master and the scholar. At dinner he attacked what he called the Professor of Mathematics, who was very near being posed by him: one question did not wait for another, and they were frequently very keen. He never ceased to regret that the mathematics were not taught at a very early age in the Lyceums. He said that all the intentions he had formed respecting the Universities had been frustrated, complained bitterly of M. de Fontanes, lamenting that, whilst he was obliged to be at a distance, carrying on the war, they spoiled all he had done at home, &c. This led the Emperor back to the first years of his life, to father Patrault, his Professor of Mathematics, whose history he gave us: I have already introduced it.

FIRST ENGLISH LESSON, &c.

17th.—The Emperor took his first lesson in the English language to-day. And as it was my intention to put him at once in a situation to read the papers with readiness, this first lesson consisted of nothing more than getting acquainted with an English newspaper; in studying the form and plan of it; in learning the places that are always given to the different subjects which it contains; in separating the notices and gossip of the town from politics; and, in the latter, in learning to distinguish what is authentic from what is mere report or conjecture.

I have engaged that, if the Emperor could endure being annoyed every day with such lessons, he would be able to read the papers in a month without the assistance of any of us. The Emperor wished afterwards to do some exercises; he wrote some sentences which were dictated to him, and translated them into English, with the assistance of a little table, which I made for him, of the auxiliary verbs and articles, and aided by the dictionary for other words which I made him look out himself. I explained to him the rules of syntax and grammar, as they came before us: in this manner he formed various sentences, which amused him more than the versions which we also attempted. After the lesson, at two o’clock, we took a walk in the garden.