Part 34

The Emperor endures this mode of life admirably. He surpasses us all in equality and serenity of temper. He says, himself, that it would be difficult to be more philosophic and tranquil than he is.—He retires to bed at ten o’clock, and does not rise, that is to say, does not go out, before five or six o’clock, so that he was never more than four hours out of doors; like a prisoner who is led from his cell once a day to breathe the fresh air. But then how intense is the occupation of each day! how various are the thoughts which occupy his mind during his long solitary hours! With regard to mental exertion, the Emperor said he felt as capable of bearing it as he had ever been; that he did not feel himself worn out or withered in any respect. He was astonished himself at the slight impression that had been made on him by all the late events in which he had been the principal actor. It was like lead which had passed over marble. The spring might have been for a moment compressed, but it had not been broken, and had risen again with all its elasticity. He did not think any one in the world knew better than himself how to yield to necessity; this, he said, was the real triumph of reason and strength of mind.

The hour for our ride had now arrived. As the Emperor was going to meet the calash, he happened to see little Hortense, Madame Bertrand’s daughter, whom he is very fond of. He called her to him, caressed her two or three times, and took her out in the carriage along with little Tristan de Montholon. During the drive, the Grand Marshal, who had been looking over the papers, gave an account of some bons-mots and caricatures he had found among them. One possessed a good deal of point. The picture consisted of two actions; one represented Napoleon giving to the Princess of Hasfield, with directions to commit it to the flames, the letter whose disappearance saved her husband; underneath was written, _Tyrannical Act of an Usurper_. The companion was quite of another character. We described to the Emperor a great number of the caricatures with which we had been inundated after the restoration. Some of them afforded him great amusement. One in

## particular made him smile: it referred to a change of dynasty.

The Emperor observed that, if caricatures sometimes avenge misfortune, they form a continual annoyance to power. “I think I have had my share of them,” said he. He then desired us to describe some of those which had been made upon him, and very much approved of one as being in good taste. It was a sketch representing George III. on the coast of England, throwing an enormous beet-root, in a great passion, at the head of Napoleon, who was on the opposite shore, and saying, “Go, and be made sugar.”

THE EMPEROR’S LONG WALK.

12th.—Fine weather had now fairly set in. About four o’clock the Emperor walked in the garden. The temperature was delightful, and we all acknowledged that it was like one of our finest evenings in Europe. We had enjoyed nothing equal to it since we had been on the island. The Emperor ordered the calash; and by way of a change, instead of driving along by the gum-trees, to get into the road leading to the Grand Marshal’s house, he wished to take the road which encircles the upper hollow of our favourite valley, and to gain, if possible, the spot on which is situated the residence of Miss Mason, and which is on the opposite side, facing Longwood. The Emperor invited Madame Bertrand to take a drive in the calash, in which Madame de Montholon and myself were already seated: the rest of our party followed on horseback, so that we were now all assembled together. At a few paces from Madame Bertrand’s, at the military post, which is established near the house, the ground was very steep and uneven; the horses refused to advance, and we were obliged to alight from the calash. The barrier was scarcely wide enough to allow the carriage to pass; but the English soldiers came to our assistance, and in a moment pushed it through by main force. However, when we had reached the hollow of the valley, we found walking so agreeable that the Emperor wished to continue it; and, after a short time, he ordered the carriage to be driven along the road as far as the gate of Miss Mason’s house, while we proceeded with our walk in the valley. The evening was really most delightful; the shades of night were beginning to overspread the sky, but the moon shone brilliantly. Our walk reminded us of those strolls which we had been accustomed to enjoy on fine summer evenings, in the neighbourhood of our country residences in Europe.

The calash had now returned; but the Emperor declined getting into it. He directed that it should wait at Madame Bertrand’s door; but when the Emperor got there, he chose to walk on to Longwood, where he arrived very much fatigued. He had walked nearly six miles, which is a great deal for him, who never was accustomed to walk at any period of his life.

BAD TEMPERATURE OF ST. HELENA.—OBSERVATION ON THE SPIRIT OF THIS JOURNAL.

13th—16th. I have already observed that there is no regular course of seasons at St. Helena, but merely irregular successions of good and bad weather. It would be difficult to find four words to express any deviation from our accustomed routine, during these four days. And here I take the opportunity of observing, once for all, that if, in the course of my journal, the events of several days are occasionally found combined in one article, it is because I have cancelled a portion of the notes relating to each day separately. I have been induced to do this from various motives. Sometimes my notes appeared to me too puerile; sometimes, on the other hand, they seemed to be too serious, and calculated for a more distant period; or occasionally they consisted of personalities, and I make it a rule studiously to avoid every thing of that kind. If, in spite of all my care, any offensive personal allusions have escaped me, it can only be when I have been led to them by the essential object of my journal; namely, to describe the character of the Emperor. Even then, I may reflect, for my own satisfaction, that these personalities relate only to public characters, and refer to facts already circulated in the world.

I am, however, perfectly well aware that the task I have undertaken may subject me to many inconveniences; but I consider it as a sacred duty, and shall endeavour to fulfil it to the best of my abilities, happen what will.

THE EMPEROR’S VIEWS OF FRENCH POLITICS.

17th.—At six o’clock in the morning, the Emperor mounted his horse, and we rode round the park, commencing in the neighbourhood of our valley, and proceeding as far as the road leading from the camp to the Grand Marshal’s residence. A party of about 150 or 200 sailors, belonging to the Northumberland, who were daily employed in removing planks of wood or stones for the service of Longwood or the camp, ranged themselves in a line fronting Marshal Bertrand’s house, while the Emperor passed by. The Emperor spoke to the officers, and smiled complacently on his old ship-mates; they appeared delighted at seeing him.

I have already mentioned that we occasionally received parcels of newspapers from Europe, the contents of which occupied our attention, and occasioned the Emperor to draw some lively and animated pictures. Conversing to-day on the subject of the intelligence we had recently received, the Emperor observed that the condition of France was by no means improved. “The Bourbons,” he repeated, “have now no other resource than severity. Four months have already elapsed; the Allied forces are about to be withdrawn, and none but half measures have been taken. The affair has been badly managed. A government can exist only by its principle. The principle of the French government evidently is to return to old maxims; and it should do this openly. In present circumstances, the Chambers, above all, will be fatal; they will inspire the King with false confidence, and will have no weight with the nation. The King will soon be deprived of all means of communication with them. They will no longer follow the same religion, nor speak the same language. No individual will henceforth have a right to undeceive the people with regard to any absurdities that may be propagated; even if it should be wished to make them believe that all the springs of water are poisoned, and that trains of gunpowder are laid under ground.” The Emperor concluded by observing that there would be some juridical executions, and an extreme desire of re-action, which would be sufficiently strong to irritate, but not to subdue.

As to Europe, the Emperor considered it to be as violently agitated as it had ever been. The powers of Europe had destroyed France, but she might one day revive through commotions arising among the people of different nations, whom the policy of the sovereigns was calculated to alienate; the glory of France might also be restored through a misunderstanding among the Allied powers themselves, which would probably ensue.

As to our own personal affairs, they could only be improved through the medium of England; and she could only be induced to favour us by political interests, a change in her ministers or her sovereign, or the sentiment of national glory excited by the torrent of public opinion. As for political interests, there were circumstances which might affect them; the change of individuals depends on accidents; finally, with respect to the sentiment of national glory, so easy to be understood, the present ministry had disavowed it, but another might not be insensible to it.

PICTURE OF DOMESTIC HAPPINESS DRAWN BY THE EMPEROR.—TWO YOUNG LADIES OF THE ISLAND.

18th.—The Emperor sent for me about ten o’clock; he had just returned home. Some one had informed me that he had been out shooting; but he said that he had not. He rode out on horseback as early as six o’clock; but he gave orders that _His Excellency’s_ slumbers should not be disturbed. We set to work with the English lesson. Breakfast was served up; it was most detestable; and I could not refrain from making the observation. He pitied me for making so bad a meal, and added that it was certainly necessary to have a good appetite to make a repast on such fare. We continued our lesson until nearly one o’clock, when the excessive heat obliged us to desist, and take a little repose.

About five the Emperor went to walk in the garden. He began to draw a sketch of the happiness of a private man in easy circumstances, peacefully enjoying life in his native province, in the house and surrounded by the lands which he had inherited from his forefathers. Certainly nothing could be more philosophic. We could not refrain from smiling at the tranquil domestic picture, and some of us got our ears pinched for our pains. “Felicity of this kind,” continued the Emperor, “is now unknown in France except by tradition. The Revolution has destroyed it. The old families have been deprived of this happiness, and the new ones have not yet been long enough established in the enjoyment of it. The picture which I have sketched has now no real existence.”—He observed that, to be driven from our native home, from the fields in which we had roamed in childhood, to possess no paternal abode, was in reality to be deprived of a country. Some one here remarked that the man who had been robbed of the home which he had created for himself after the storm had blown over; who was driven from the house in which he had dwelt with his wife, and which had been the birth-place of his children; might truly say that he had lost a second country. How many individuals are reduced to that extremity; and what vicissitudes the present age has produced!

We seated ourselves in the calash, and took our accustomed airing. During dinner, the conversation turned on two young ladies, residents of the island: the one tall, handsome, and very fascinating; the other not so pretty, but perfectly well bred, and pleasing in her deportment and manners. Opinions were divided respecting them. The Emperor, who was only acquainted with the one first described, declared himself in her favour. Some one remarked that, if he were to see the second, he would not be induced to change his mind. The Emperor then wished to know the gentleman’s own opinion respecting the ladies, and he replied, that he was an admirer of the second. This seemed rather contradictory, and the Emperor requested him to explain himself. “Why,” said he, “if I wished to purchase a slave, I should certainly fix on the first; but if I thought I should derive any happiness from becoming a slave myself, I should address myself to the second.”—“That is to say,” resumed the Emperor, quickly, “that you have no very high opinion of my taste?”—“Not so, Sire, but I suspect your Majesty’s views and mine would be different.” The Emperor smiled, and said nothing more on the subject.

19th.—The Emperor rode on horseback very early this morning; it was scarcely six o’clock when he went out. I was quite ready; for I had ordered some one to call me; and the Emperor was astonished to see me so active. We strolled about the park at random, and returned about nine: the sun was already beginning to be warm.

About four o’clock the Emperor wished to take his English lesson; but he was not very well. He said that every thing had gone wrong with him to-day; and that nothing had done him any good. His walk in the garden did not restore him; he was not well at dinner-time. He did not play his usual number of games at chess; but retired, indisposed, after the first game.

THE EMPEROR’S WORKS IN THE ISLAND OF ELBA.—PREDILECTION OF THE ALGERINES FOR THE EMPEROR.

20th.—The weather had been extremely bad. The Emperor had been rather unwell the whole of the night, but felt himself much better in the morning. He did not leave his room before five o’clock. About six we took advantage of a gleam of fine weather to drive round the park in the calash. The horses which have been provided for us are vicious; they shy at the first object that comes in their way, and become restive. They stood still several times during our drive. The rain, indeed, had rendered the roads very heavy, and at one time it required all our efforts to obviate the necessity of returning on foot. The Grand Marshal and General Gourgaud were in one instance obliged to alight and put their shoulders to the wheel. At length, after a great deal of trouble we reached home. The conversation, during our drive, turned on the Island of Elba. The Emperor spoke of the roads he had made, and the houses he had built, which the best painters of Italy begged, as a favour, to be permitted to adorn with their works.

The Emperor observed that his flag had become the first in the Mediterranean. It was held sacred, he said, by the Barbary ships, who usually made presents to the Elba Captains, telling them that they were paying the debt of Moscow. The Grand Marshal told us that some Barbary ships, having anchored off the Island of Elba, had caused great alarm among the inhabitants, who questioned the pirates with regard to their intentions, and ended by asking them plainly whether they came with any hostile views.—“Against the Great Napoleon!” said the Algerines: “Oh! never ... we do not wage war against God!”

Whenever the flag of the Island of Elba entered any of the ports of the Mediterranean, Leghorn excepted, it was received with loud acclamations: all the national feeling seemed to return. The crews of some French ships from Britanny and Flanders, which touched at the Island of Elba, testified the same sentiment.

“Every thing is judged by comparison in this world,” said the Emperor; “the Island of Elba, which, a year ago, was thought so disagreeable, is a paradise compared to St. Helena. As for this island, it may set all future regret at defiance.”

PIONTKOWSKI.—CARICATURE.

21st—22nd. The Emperor continued to rise early and ride out on horseback, in the park and among the gum-trees. He rode only at a walking pace, but this light exercise was of advantage to him, as it enabled him to enjoy the fresh air. He returned with a better appetite, and pursued the occupations of the day with greater spirit. He breakfasted in the garden, under some trees which had been twined together to afford him a shade. One morning, as he was sitting down to breakfast, he perceived at a distance the Pole Piontkowski, and sent for him to breakfast with him. He always takes pleasure in conversing with him whenever he meets him.

Piontkowski, with whose origin we are not very well acquainted, came to the Island of Elba, and obtained permission to serve as a private in the Guards. On the Emperor’s return from Elba, he had gained the rank of lieutenant. When we departed from Paris, he received permission to follow us; and we left him at Plymouth, among those who were separated from us by order of the English ministers. Piontkowski, having more fidelity, or more address, than his comrades, obtained leave to come to St. Helena. The Emperor had never known, and never spoken to him, till he came here.

Piontkowski was, indeed, equally unknown to us all. The English were surprised that we did not give him a warmer greeting on his arrival. Some individuals, who seized all opportunities of saying any thing to our disadvantage, wrote to England that we had received Piontkowski very ill. This story was totally false: but it furnished the English ministerial prints with a subject on which to exercise their usual courtesy and wit. It was asserted that the Emperor had beaten Piontkowski; and I heard of a caricature in which Napoleon was seizing the Polish officer in his talons, while I had leaped upon him to devour him; and it was only by a stick being thrust between my teeth, by the keeper of the beasts, that I was prevented from biting a mouthful out of his shoulder. Such were the elegant accounts that were given of us.

THE EMPEROR’S RETURN FROM ELBA.

24th.—After dinner, while we were taking our coffee, the Emperor observed that, about this time last year, he quitted the Island of Elba. The Grand Marshal informed him that it was on the 26th of February and on a Sunday. “Sire,” said he, “you directed mass to be performed at an earlier hour than usual, that you might have the more time for issuing the necessary orders.”

They sailed in the afternoon, and next morning at ten o’clock they were still within sight, to the great anxiety of those who were interested in their success.

The Emperor entered into conversation on this subject, and was, for upwards of an hour, engaged in describing the details of that event, which is unparalleled in history, both for the boldness of the enterprise, and the miracle of its execution. I shall insert in another part of my journal, the particulars which I collected on this subject.

CAMPAIGNS OF ITALY AND EGYPT.—THE EMPEROR’S OPINION OF THE GREAT FRENCH POETS.—TRAGEDIES BY LATE WRITERS.—HECTOR.—THE ETATS DE BLOIS.—TALMA.

25th—28th. Our days were for the most part very much alike; if they seemed long in detail, they were rapidly shortened in a retrospective view. They were without character or interest, and left only imperfect recollections behind. In English he went on gradually improving. The Emperor confessed that he had felt a moment of disgust; his _furia Francese_ had, he said, at one time, given way; but he added that I had reanimated him by means of a plan which he considered more certain and infallible than any other—that of reading and analyzing a single page over and over again until it was thoroughly learnt. The grammatical rules were explained by the way. In this manner, there is not a moment lost to study and memory. The progress at first appears slow, the learner seems to advance but little in his studies; but by the time he has come to the fiftieth page, he is astonished to find that he knows the language. We had added a page of Telemachus to the rest of our lesson, and we found the benefit of it. By this time, however, the Emperor, though he had only had twenty or twenty-five complete lessons, could understand any book; and would have been able to make himself understood in writing. He did not comprehend all that was said, it is true; but, as he observed, nothing could be concealed from him for the future, and this was a great thing—this was a decided victory.

The Campaign of Egypt was completed with the assistance of Bertrand, as far as the want of materials would permit. The Emperor now commenced, with another of the gentlemen, a new and very important period; namely—from his departure from Fontainebleau, up to his return to Paris and his second abdication. He possessed no document relating to these rapid events; but it was that very rapidity which induced me to entreat him to employ his memory in recording circumstances which the hurry of events or party spirit might enfeeble or distort.

The Emperor also employed himself very frequently with me, in revising the different chapters of the Campaign of Italy; this was generally done immediately before dinner. He had directed me to arrange each

## chapter in a regular and uniform manner; to mark out the proper

divisions of the paragraphs, and to note down and collect the illustrative articles. This he called the digestive business of an editor. “And your interest is concerned in it,” said he to me one day, with an air of kindness which affected me; “henceforward it is your property: the Campaign of Italy shall bear your name, and the Campaign of Egypt that of Bertrand. I intend that it shall add at once to your fortune and to your fame. There will be at least a hundred thousand francs in your pocket, and your name will last as long as the remembrance of my battles.”

With regard to our evenings, the _reversis_ had been relinquished a second time; we could not continue it long. After the second or third round, the cards were abandoned for conversation. We resumed our readings: our stock of novels was exhausted, and plays occupied our attention for the future, tragedies in particular. The Emperor is uncommonly fond of analyzing them, which he does in a singular mode of reasoning, and with great taste. He remembers an immense quantity of poetry, which he learned when he was eighteen years old, at which time, he says, he knew much more than he does at present. The Emperor is delighted with Racine, in whom he finds a profusion of beauties. He greatly admires Corneille, but thinks very little of Voltaire, who, he says, is full of bombast and tinsel: always incorrect; unacquainted either with men or things, with truth or the sublimity of the passions of mankind.