21st—22nd. The Emperor, who had often questioned me on the line of
conduct pursued by many of his ministers, members of his Council, and
officers of his Household, during his residence at the Island of Elba,
at length called me to account in my turn, saying:—“But you yourself,
Las Cases, what did you do after the arrival of the King? What happened
to you all that time? Come, sir, make a report on that subject: you know
this is my way; and it is the only plan by which we can properly
classify what we say, or what we wish to learn. Besides, it will furnish
you with another article for your Journal. And, don’t you see?“ added
he, jokingly, “your biographers will only have the trouble of
extracting; the thing will be all ready written to their hands.”
“Sire,” I replied, “you shall have a literal statement of every thing;
though I have but little to say. I commanded, on the 31st of March, the
10th legion of the National Guard of Paris, that of the Legislative
Body. We lost, during the day, a considerable number of men. At night I
heard of the capitulation; I wrote to the officer next in rank to
myself, and transferred to him the command of my legion, informing him
that, though in my quality of member of the Council of State I had
previously received orders to proceed elsewhere, yet I had not wished to
abandon my legion at the moment of danger; but that the event which had
just occurred having changed the aspect of affairs, I must now proceed
forthwith to fulfil new duties.
“At day-break I set out on the road to Fontainebleau, and found myself
in the midst of the wrecks of Marmont’s and Mortier’s detachments. I was
on foot, but I doubted not I should be able to purchase a horse. I soon,
however, discovered that soldiers in retreat are neither just nor civil.
At that disastrous moment, my uniform of a National Guard was insulted,
and I was myself ill-treated.
“After an hour’s walk, overpowered by the fatigue of the journey, joined
to the want of rest which I had experienced for two or three nights
previously; seeing around me no face that I knew, and having no hope of
procuring a horse, I determined, with a sorrowful heart, to return to
the capital.
“The National Guard was ordered out to assist in the triumphant entry of
the enemy: there was even a probability of its being selected as a guard
of honour to the Sovereigns who had conquered us. I determined to be
absent from my home. I had conveyed my wife and children safely out of
Paris a week or two before, and for a few days had recourse to the
hospitality of a friend. I never went out of doors but in a shabby great
coat, visiting the coffee-houses and public places, and joining the
different groups which were formed in the streets. My object was to make
observations on persons and things, and above all, to learn the real
feeling of the people. How many extraordinary occurrences did I not
witness in the course of my rambles!
“I saw in front of the residence of the Emperor of Russia, men
distinguished by their rank, and calling themselves Frenchmen, exerting
their utmost endeavours to induce the rabble to call out ‘_Long live
Alexander, our deliverer!_’
“I saw, Sire, your monument on the Place Vendôme resist the efforts of a
few wretches, belonging to the lowest dregs of the people, who had been
hired by persons of note.
“Finally, in one of the comers of the Place Vendôme, before the hotel of
the Commandant of the place, I saw one of the officers of your household
trying, on the first evening after your departure, to prevail on young
conscripts to enter another service than yours; but he received from
them a lesson that might have made him blush for his own conduct, had he
been capable of feeling shame.
“Doubtless, those to whom I here allude will exclaim that I mingled with
the _rabble_; and yet it may with justice be affirmed that the acts of
baseness which then disgraced France did not originate with the rabble.
These acts were far from obtaining the countenance of the lower classes
of the people; on the contrary, they were decidedly censured by the
uprightness, generosity, and nobleness of sentiment, manifested in the
public streets. What reproaches might I not convey, were I to repeat all
that I heard on this subject!
“Your Majesty abdicated. I had refused my signature to the act of
adherence of the Council of State; but I thought I might make amends for
this by an additional act of adherence. The Moniteur was every day
filled with articles of this kind; mine however was not deemed worthy
the honour of insertion.
“At length the King arrived: he was henceforth our sovereign. He
appointed a day for the reception of those individuals who had been
presented to Louis XVI. I proceeded to the Tuileries to avail myself of
this prerogative.—What were my reflections on entering those apartments
which had so lately been filled with your glory and power! And yet I
presented myself to the King sincerely and in good faith; my foresight
never led me even to think of your return.
“Deputations to the King were multiplied beyond number: a meeting of the
officers of the naval establishment was proposed. To the person who
communicated this fact to me I replied that nothing could be more
gratifying to my heart than to join my old comrades, none of whom could
entertain sentiments purer than I did; but that the offices I had filled
placed me in a peculiar and delicate situation, and that motives of
prudence must deter me from appearing where the zeal of a president
might lead him to employ expressions which I neither could nor would
sanction by my opinion or presence.
“Subsequently, however, in spite of my mortification and disgust, I
determined, at the solicitation of some friends, to think of something
for myself. The Council of State was re-composed; several members of the
last Council assured me, in spite of my recent conjectures on that
point, that nothing was easier than to retain my office; that they had
succeeded merely by an application to the Chancellor of France. I had
not courage to venture a moment’s encroachment on his Lordship’s time:
and therefore contented myself with writing to acquaint him that I had
been Master of Requests to the last Council of State; and that, if that
circumstance were not sufficient to exclude me from becoming a member of
the new assembly, I begged him to recommend me to the King as a
Councillor of State. I observed that I would not advance as claims to
favour my eleven years’ emigration or the loss of my patrimony in the
King’s cause. At that period I had only done what I then considered to
be my duty; which I had at all times, to the best of my knowledge,
fulfilled faithfully and to the last moment. This phrase, as may well be
supposed, deprived me even of the honour of a reply.
“Meanwhile the new situation of Paris, the sight of the foreign troops,
the acclamations of every kind, were more than I could endure; and I
adopted the determination of going for a short time to London, where I
should meet with old friends, who might afford me all the consolation of
which I was susceptible. Then, again, I recollected that I might find in
London the same tumult and the same exultation that had driven me from
Paris; this proved to be the fact. London was the scene of festivity and
rejoicing, to celebrate the triumphs of the English and our humiliation.
“During my stay in London, the marine establishment was re-modelled at
Paris, and the Chevalier de Grimaldi, one of my old comrades, whom I had
not seen or heard of for a length of time, was appointed a member of the
Committee. He called on my wife, and expressed his surprise that I had
not put in my claims; observing that I was entitled, by law, to return
to the corps, or to retire on a certain pension. He advised my wife to
bring me to a decision on the subject, and to rely on his friendship;
adding that there was no time to be lost. I attached higher value to
this mark of attention than to the favour which it was intended to
procure me. However, I wrote to the Committee, requesting that, as I was
desirous of wearing a uniform to which I had become attached, I might be
allowed to enjoy the honorary title of _Capitaine de Vaisseau_; while at
the same time I renounced the pension, to which I did not conceive
myself entitled.
“I returned to Paris. The diversity of opinions and the irritation of
the public mind were extreme. I had for a long time lived in the
greatest retirement. I now confined myself entirely to the domestic
circle of my wife and children. Never at any former period of my life
did I prove myself a better husband or a better father; and never,
perhaps, was I more physically happy.
“As I was one day reading, in the _Journal des Debats_, an account of a
work of M. Beauchamp, I found mentioned the names of several gentlemen
who were stated to have assembled on the Place Louis XV. on the 31st
March, to excite sentiments in favour of royalty; and my name was among
the number. It was in good company, no doubt; but at the same time the
statement was untrue; and I should have been considerably lowered in the
estimation of many if it had been believed. I wrote to request a
correction of the error, which was calculated to render me the subject
of congratulations to which I was in no way entitled.
“I observed that it was out of my power at the time to act in the way
described, whatever might have been my inclination. As the commander of
a legion of the National Guard, I had contracted obligations from which
no consideration on earth could free me, &c. I sent my letter to the
deputy Chabaud-Latour, one of the proprietors of the _Journal des
Debats_, a man for whom I entertained a great esteem. He declined
publishing my letter, purely from good intentions towards me. I then
addressed it to the editor; but he refused to insert it on account of
difference of opinion.
“Meanwhile, the state of the public mind indicated an inevitable and
speedy catastrophe. Every thing foreboded that the Bourbons would share
the fate of the Stuarts. My wife and I used every evening to amuse
ourselves in reading Hume’s History of England. We began at Charles I.,
and your Majesty arrived before we had got to James II.” (Here the
Emperor could not repress a laugh.)
“Your Majesty’s advance and arrival,” continued I, “were to us a subject
of the greatest astonishment and anxiety. I was far from foreseeing the
honourable voluntary exile which it would gain for me in the end; for I
was then little known to your Majesty; and circumstances arising out of
that event alone brought me here. Had I filled the most trivial post
under the King; had I even been a frequent attendant at the Tuileries,
which would have been very natural and consistent with propriety, I
should not have appeared for a length of time in your Majesty’s
presence. Not, indeed, that I should have had any thing to reproach
myself with, or that my attachment to you would have been the less
sincere; but because I should not have wished to pass for a piece of
court furniture, or to seem always ready to offer incense at the shrine
of power. I should have awaited an appointment, instead of pressing
forward to solicit one. But as it was, I felt myself so much at liberty,
every thing about me was in such perfect harmony, that I seemed to form
a part of the great event. I therefore eagerly hastened to meet the
first glance of your Majesty; I felt as though I had claims on your
kindness and favour. On your return from Waterloo, the same sentiments
brought me immediately and spontaneously near your person, which I have
never since quitted. If I was then attracted by your public glory, I am
now attached by your private virtues; and if it be true that the
gratification of my feelings then cost me some sacrifice, I now find
myself repaid a hundred-fold, by the happiness I enjoy in being able to
tell you so.
“It would however be difficult to describe the extreme disgust I felt at
every thing during the ten months of your absence. I felt an utter
contempt for mankind and worldly vanities. Every illusion was destroyed,
all interest had vanished. Every thing appeared to be at an end, or to
be undeserving of the smallest value. During my emigration, I had
received the cross of St. Louis; an ordinance decreed that it was to be
legitimated by a new brevet. I had not spirit to put in my claim.
Another ordinance directed that the titles bestowed by your Majesty
should be sent in to be confirmed; but I felt indifferent with regard to
compromising those which I had obtained during the Empire. In fine, I
received a letter from the Marine department, informing me that my
captain’s commission had just been forwarded thither, and there it still
remains.
“Your Majesty’s absence was to me a widowhood, the affliction and grief
of which I concealed from no one. But on your return I was repaid for
all by the testimony borne by those who surrounded you, and to whom I
had previously been scarcely known. At your Majesty’s first levee, the
individual who was _ad interim_ at the head of the department of foreign
affairs, coming from the presence, took me aside to a window, and told
me to go home and prepare, as I should probably have to set out on a
journey. He had just, he said, proposed me to your Majesty, adding that
he had represented me as a madman, but mad for love of you. I wished to
know whither I was to be sent; but that, he said, he neither would nor
could tell me. I never heard any thing more of the matter.
“M. Regnault de Saint-Jean d’Angeli placed me on the list of the
Imperial Commissioners whom your Majesty sent to the departments, I
assured him that I was ready to do any thing; but I observed that I was
a _noble_ and an _emigrant_, and that these two words pronounced by the
first comer would be sufficient to annihilate me, in case of necessity,
at any time or in any place. He acknowledged the justice of my
observation, and relinquished his intention.
“A Senator next solicited that your Majesty would appoint me to the
prefecture of Metz, his native town. He requested me to make this
sacrifice for only three months, in order, as he said, to conciliate the
popular mind, and set things to rights. At length Decrés and the Duke of
Bassano proposed me as a Councillor of State; and, the third day after
your arrival, your Majesty signed my appointment.”
23rd.—The Emperor was still indisposed: he confined himself to his room,
and would see nobody. He sent for me at 9 o’clock in the evening. I
found him very low-spirited and melancholy. He scarcely spoke to me, and
I did not dare to say anything to him. If I regarded his illness as
merely physical, it grieved me sincerely:—if he laboured under mental
affliction, how much more was I grieved that I could not employ all the
resources of consolation with which the heart naturally overflows for
those whom we truly love. The Emperor dismissed me in about half an
hour.
24th.—The Emperor continued indisposed, and still declined seeing any
body. He sent for me to dine with him at a late hour. Dinner was served
on a little table beside the sofa on which he was lying. He ate
heartily. He said that he stood in need of some sudden revulsion of the
constitution, which he should soon obtain; so well did he understand his
own temperament. After dinner he took up the Memoirs of Marshal de
Villars, which amused him. He read aloud many passages, which revived
former recollections, and gave rise to many anecdotes.
THE EMPEROR’S TEMPERAMENT.—RIDING.—NOTIONS
OF MEDICINE.
25th.—The Emperor still continued unwell: he had passed a bad night. At
his desire I dined with him beside the sofa, which he was unable to
leave. He was, however, evidently much better. After dinner he wished to
read. He had a heap of books scattered around him on the sofa. The
rapidity of his imagination, the fatigue of dwelling always on the same
subject, or of reading what he already knew, caused him to take up and
throw down the books one after the other. At length he fixed on Racine’s
Iphigenia, and amused himself by pointing out the beauties, and
discussing the few faults, to be found in that work. He dismissed me at
an early hour.
Contrary to the general opinion, in which I myself once participated,
the Emperor is far from possessing a strong constitution. His limbs are
large, but his fibres are relaxed. With a very expanded chest, he is
constantly labouring under the effects of cold. His body is subject to
the influence of the slightest accidents. The smell of paint is
sufficient to make him ill; certain dishes, or the slightest degree of
damp, immediately take a severe effect on him. His body is far from
being a body of iron, as is generally supposed: all his strength is in
his mind. His prodigious exertions abroad and his incessant labours at
home are known to every one. No sovereign ever underwent so much bodily
fatigue. The most remarkable instance of the Emperor’s activity and
exertion was his riding post from Valladolid to Burgos, (a distance of
thirty-five Spanish leagues) in five hours and a half; that is to say,
upwards of seven leagues an hour.[25] The Emperor had set out
accompanied by a numerous escort, in case of danger from the Guerillas;
but at every yard he left some of his company behind him, and he arrived
at Burgos with but few followers. His ride from Vienna to the Simmering,
a distance of eighteen or twenty leagues, is also frequently talked of.
The Emperor rode to breakfast at the Simmering, and returned to Vienna
immediately after. Napoleon often hunted to the distance of thirty-eight
leagues, and never less than fifteen. One day a Russian officer, who had
come as a courier from St. Petersburg in the space of twelve or thirteen
days, arrived at Fontainebleau at the moment when the Emperor was about
to set out on a hunt. By way of a rest, the officer had the honour to be
invited to join the hunting-party. He of course accepted the invitation;
but he dropped down in the forest, overcome by fatigue, and was not
found until after considerable search had been made for him.
Footnote 25:
This may appear incredible. Indeed I myself feel doubts now when I
read over the statement. But I know that when the subject was spoken
of one day at dinner at Longwood, it underwent much discussion, and I
noted down on paper what was then admitted to be the correct account.
Besides, many individuals who accompanied the Emperor are still
living: and the fact may be ascertained.
I have known the Emperor to be engaged in business in the Council of
State for eight or nine hours successively, and afterwards rise with his
ideas as clear as when he sat down. I have seen him at St. Helena peruse
books for ten or twelve hours in succession, on the most abstruse
subjects, without appearing in the least fatigued. He has suffered,
unmoved, the greatest shocks that ever man experienced. On his return
from Moscow or Leipsic, after he had communicated the disastrous event
in the Council of State, he said:—“It has been reported in Paris that
this misfortune turned my hair grey; but you see it is not so (pointing
to his head); and I hope I shall be able to support many other
reverses.” But these prodigious exertions are made only, as it were, in
despite of his physical powers, which never appear less susceptible than
when his mind is in full activity.
The Emperor eats very irregularly, but generally very little. He often
says that a man may hurt himself by eating too much, but never by eating
too little. He will remain four-and-twenty hours without eating, only to
get an appetite for the ensuing day. But if he eats little, he drinks
still less. A single glass of Madeira or Champaign is sufficient to
restore his strength, and to produce cheerfulness of spirits. He sleeps
very little and very irregularly, generally rising at daybreak to read
or write, and afterwards lying down to sleep again.
The Emperor has no faith in medicine, and never takes any. He had
adopted a peculiar mode of treatment for himself. Whenever he found
himself unwell, his plan was to run into an extreme, the opposite of
what happened to be his habit at the time. This he calls restoring the
equilibrium of nature. If, for instance, he had been inactive for a
length of time, he would suddenly ride about sixty miles, or hunt for a
whole day. If, on the contrary, he had been harassed by great fatigues,
he would resign himself to a state of absolute rest for twenty-four
hours. These unexpected shocks infallibly brought about an internal
crisis, and instantly produced the desired effect: this remedy, he
observed, never failed.
The Emperor’s lymphatic system is deranged, and his blood circulates
with difficulty. Nature, he said, had endowed him with two important
advantages: the one was the power of sleeping whenever he needed repose,
at any hour, and in any place; another was that he was incapable of
committing any injurious excess either in eating or drinking. “If,” said
he, “I go the least beyond my mark, my stomach instantly revolts.” He is
subject to nausea from very slight causes; a mere tickling cough is
sufficient to produce that effect on him.
OUR MODE OF LIVING AT BRIARS.—MY FIRST VISIT TO
LONGWOOD.—INFERNAL MACHINE; ITS HISTORY.
26th—28th. On the 26th the Emperor dressed very early: he found himself
quite recovered. He wished to walk out, as the weather was very fine;
and, besides, his room had not been put in order for three days. We went
into the garden, and he chose to breakfast under the arbour. He was in
good spirits, and his conversation turned upon many different subjects
and persons.
The Emperor’s health being now perfectly restored, he resumed his usual
occupation, which, indeed, was his only source of amusement. Reading,
dictating, and walking in the garden, filled up all his time during the
day. He still occasionally resorted to his favourite path, though the
turn of the season, and the change of the moon, had nearly put a stop to
our evening walks. The numerous visitors who came to Mr. Balcombe’s
house, attracted by the hope of meeting the Emperor, annoyed him very
much, and, indeed, compelled him to withdraw himself altogether. We
therefore remained shut up in our little dwelling. We at first
understood that we should remain at Briars only a few days; but six
weeks had passed away, and we had yet heard nothing respecting our
removal. All this time the Emperor had been as much confined as he had
been on board of the vessel. He had taken only one excursion, which was
when he visited Major Hudson; and we afterwards learned that this
circumstance had occasioned alarm. It had been whispered about at the
Admiral’s ball, and had reached the ears of our high authorities, who
were thrown into great consternation by the event.
The workmen continued their labours at Longwood, which was to be our new
residence. The troops who had come with us from England were encamped in
the neighbourhood. The Colonel gave a ball, to which we were invited.
The Emperor wished me to go, and that I should, at the same time, take
the opportunity of inspecting our future abode. I went with Madame
Bertrand, in a carriage drawn by six oxen. In this Merovingian equipage
we proceeded to Longwood. This was the first opportunity I had had of
seeing any part of the island, except the neighbourhood of Briars. The
whole road along which we passed presented continued evidences of a
great natural convulsion. We saw nothing but huge masses of rock,
totally destitute of vegetation. If, at every change of the horizon, we
perceived a trace of verdure or a few clusters of trees, yet on a nearer
approach, all vanished like the creations of a poet’s fancy; we found
only a few marine plants and wild shrubs; or, what was still worse, some
wretched gum-trees. These were the only ornaments of Longwood. I
returned on horseback about six o’clock. The Emperor put many questions
to me concerning our new residence. Finding that I did not speak of it
very enthusiastically, he asked at once whether he should gain or lose
by the change? I told him what I thought in one sentence. “Sire,” said
I, “we are here in a cage; there we shall be in a fold.”
28th.—The Emperor changed his military uniform, which he had put on to
go on board the Bellerophon, for a fancy dress coat. In the course of
conversation this day the Emperor adverted to the numerous conspiracies
which had been formed against him. The infernal machine was mentioned in
its turn. This diabolical invention, which gave rise to so many
conjectures, and caused the death of so many victims, was the work of
the Royalists, who obtained the first idea of it from the Jacobins.
The Emperor stated that a hundred furious Jacobins, the real authors of
the scenes of September, the 10th of August, &c., had resolved to get
rid of the First Consul, for which purpose they invented a 15 or
16-pound howitzer, which, on being thrown into the carriage, would
explode by its own concussion, and hurl destruction on every side. To
make sure of their object, they proposed to lay chevaux de frise along a
part of the road, which, by suddenly impeding the horses, would of
course render it impossible for the carriage to move on. The man who was
employed to lay down the chevaux de frise, entertaining some suspicions
of the job which he had been set upon, as well as of the morality of his
employers, communicated the business to the police. The conspirators
were soon traced, and were apprehended near the Jardin des Plantes, in
the act of trying the effect of the machine, which made a terrible
explosion. The First Consul, whose policy it was not to divulge the
numerous conspiracies of which he was the object, did not give publicity
to this, but contented himself with imprisoning the criminals. He soon
relaxed his orders for keeping them in close confinement, and they were
allowed a certain degree of liberty. In the same prison in which these
Jacobins were confined, some Royalists were also imprisoned for an
attempt to assassinate the First Consul, by means of air-guns. These two
parties formed a league together; and the Royalists transmitted to their
friends out of prison the idea of the infernal machine, as being
preferable to any other plan of destruction.
It is very remarkable that, on the evening of the catastrophe, the
Emperor expressed an extreme repugnance to go out. Madame Buonaparte and
some intimate friends absolutely forced him to go to an Oratorio. They
roused him from a sofa where he was fast asleep; one fetched him his
sword, and another his hat. As he drove along in the carriage, he fell
asleep again, and awoke suddenly, saying that he had dreamed he was
drowning in the Tagliamento. To explain what he alluded to, it is
necessary to mention that some years previously, when he was General of
the army of Italy, he passed the Tagliamento in his carriage during the
night, contrary to the advice of every one about him. In the ardour of
youth, and heedless of every obstacle, he crossed the river surrounded
by a hundred men armed with poles and torches. His carriage was,
however, soon set afloat; Napoleon incurred the most imminent danger,
and for some time gave himself up for lost. At the moment when he now
awoke, on his way to the Oratorio, he was in the midst of a
conflagration, the carriage was lifted up, and the passage of the
Tagliamento came fresh upon his mind. The illusion, however, was but
momentary; a dreadful explosion immediately ensued. “We are blown up!”
exclaimed the First Consul to Lannes and Bessieres, who were in the
carriage with him. They were for stopping the carriage, but the First
Consul enjoined them not to do it on any account. He arrived safe, and
appeared at the Opera as though nothing had happened. He was preserved
by the desperate driving of his coachman. The machine injured only one
or two individuals who closed the escort.
The most trivial circumstances often lead to the most important results.
The coachman was intoxicated, and there is no doubt that this proved the
means of saving the life of the First Consul. The man’s intoxication was
so great that it was not until next morning he could be made to
comprehend what had happened. He had taken the explosion for the firing
of a salute. Immediately after this event, measures were adopted against
the Jacobins, who had been convicted of meditating the crime: and a
considerable number were banished. They, however, were not the real
criminals, whose discovery was brought about by another very singular
chance.
Three or four hundred drivers of _fiacres_ subscribed a louis or twelve
francs each to give a dinner to the First Consul’s coachman, who had
become the hero of the day and the boast of his profession. During the
feast, one of the guests drinking to the health of the First Consul’s
coachman, observed that he knew who had played him the trick, alluding
to the explosion of the machine. He was immediately arrested, and it
appeared that, on the very night, or the night preceding the explosion,
he had drawn up his _fiacre_ beside a gate, whence had issued the little
cart that had done all the mischief. The police proceeded to the place,
and it was found to be a coach-yard, where all kinds of vehicles were
lent on hire. The keepers of the yard did not deny the fact; they
pointed out the stall in which the cart stood; it still presented traces
of gunpowder. The proprietors declared that they were given to
understand the cart had been hired by some Bretons who were concerned in
smuggling. The man who had sold the horse, together with every
individual who had participated in the affair, were easily traced out;
and it was proved that the plot had been formed by the Chouan Royalists.
Some active and intelligent men were despatched to their head-quarters
in Morbihan. They took no pains to conceal their share in the
transaction, and only regretted that it had not succeeded. Some of them
were apprehended and brought to punishment. It is said that the chief
conspirator afterwards turned Trappist, and sought to expiate his crime
by religious austerities.
CONSPIRACY OF GEORGES, PICHEGRU, &C.—THE DUKE D’ENGHIEN.—THE SLAVE
TOBY.—CHARACTERISTIC REFLECTIONS OF NAPOLEON.
29th—30th. I find in this part of my manuscript some important
particulars respecting the conspiracy of Georges, Pichegru, Moreau, and
the trial of the Duke d’Enghien; but, as these subjects recur repeatedly
in the course of my Journal, I transfer to another part what occurred
here, in order to bring all my information on the above points at once
under the eye of the reader.
Mr. Balcombe’s little garden, in which we so often walked, was
superintended by an old negro. The first time we saw him, the Emperor,
according to his usual custom, desired me to put some questions to him
respecting his history; and his answers strongly excited our interest.
He was a Malay Indian, and had been forced from his home by the crew of
an English vessel, and sold at St. Helena, where he had continued ever
since in slavery. His story bore every mark of truth. His countenance
had a frank and benevolent expression; his eyes were animated and
sparkling. In short his appearance was by no means abject; but, on the
contrary, truly prepossessing.
The history of the poor fellow’s misfortunes filled us with,
indignation; and a few days after, the Emperor expressed a wish to
purchase him and send him back to his own country. He mentioned the
subject to the Admiral. The latter, at first, defended his countrymen,
and declared that old Toby (which was the name of the unfortunate slave)
must be an impostor; for the thing was impossible. He, however, enquired
into the matter, and, finding that the story was but too true, he
participated in the indignation which we expressed, and promised to
exert his best endeavours for the fulfilment of our design. When we left
Briars for Longwood, poor Toby, sharing the common fate of all earthly
things, was soon forgotten; I know not what became of him.
When we were in the garden, the Emperor generally stopped near Toby’s
hut, and made me question him respecting his country, the days of his
youth, his family, his present situation, &c.: one would have supposed
that he wished to study the feelings of the old slave. By the Emperor’s
desire, I invariably closed the conversation by giving him a Napoleon.
Toby was very much attached to us; our presence always seemed to fill
him with joy. When we entered the garden, he immediately suspended his
work, and, resting on his spade, gazed on us with an air of
satisfaction. He understood not a word of the conversation that passed
between the Emperor and myself; but he always seemed to anticipate, with
a smile, the first words I translated to him. He called the Emperor the
_Good Gentleman_: this was the only name he ever applied to him, and he
knew him by no other.
I have mentioned the above particulars, because our meetings with Toby
were always followed by novel, spirited, and characteristic reflections
on the part of the Emperor. The versatility of his mind is well known.
Whenever he adverted to the poor slave’s misfortunes, he always took a
new view of the subject. I shall content myself with noting down the
following remarks:—
“Poor Toby,” said he one day, “has been torn from his family, from his
native land, and sold to slavery: could any thing be more miserable to
himself, or more criminal in others! If this crime be the act of the
English captain alone, he is doubtless one of the vilest of men; but if
it be that of the whole of the crew, it may have been committed by men,
perhaps, not so base as might be imagined; for vice is always
individual, and scarcely ever collective. Joseph’s brethren could not
bring themselves to slay him; while Judas, a cool, hypocritical,
calculating villain, betrayed his Master. A philosopher has affirmed
that men are born wicked: it would be both difficult and idle to attempt
to discover whether the assertion be true. This, at least, is certain,
that the great mass of society is not wicked; for if the majority were
determined to be criminal and to violate the laws, who would have the
power to restrain or prevent them? This is the triumph of civilization;
for this happy result springs from its bosom, and arises out of its
nature. Sentiments are for the most part traditionary; we feel them
because they were felt by those who preceded us: thus we must look to
the development of human reason and of the faculties of mankind for the
only key to social order, the only secret of the legislator. It is only
those who wish to deceive the people and rule them for their own
personal advantage that would desire to keep them in ignorance; for the
more they are enlightened, the more will they feel convinced of the
utility of laws, and of the necessity of defending them; and the more
steady, happy, and prosperous will society become. If, however,
knowledge should ever be dangerous in the multitude, it can only be when
the Government, in opposition to the interests of the people, drives
them into an unnatural situation, or dooms the lower classes to perish
for want. In such a case, knowledge would inspire them with spirit to
defend themselves, or to become criminal.
“My code alone, from its simplicity, has been more beneficial to France
than the whole mass of laws which preceded it. My schools and my system
of mutual instruction are preparing generations yet unknown. Thus,
during my reign, crimes were rapidly diminishing; while, on the
contrary, with our neighbours in England, they have been increasing to a
frightful degree. This alone is sufficient to enable any one to form a
decisive judgment of the respective governments![26]
Footnote 26:
This fact is corroborated by authentic documents, which exhibit proofs
more positive than might be expected. (See _Situation de l’
Angleterre, par M. de Montvéran_.)