consequently made great allowance for the infirmities incident
to humanity. Bourrienne reports him as saying, "Friendship is but
a name. I love no one; no, not even my brothers. Joseph perhaps a
little. And if I do love him, it is from habit, and because he is
my elder. Duroc! Ah, yes! I love him too. But why? His character
please me. He is cold, reserved, and resolute, and I really believe
that he never shed a tear. As to myself, I know well that I have
not one true friend. As long as I continue what I am, I may have
as many pretended friends as I please. We must leave sensibility
to the women. It is their business. Men should have nothing to do
with war or government. I am not amiable. No; I am not amiable. I
never have been. But I am just."
In another mood of mind, more tender, more subdued, he remarked,
at St. Helena, in reply to Las Casas, who with great severity was
condemning those who abandoned Napoleon in his hour of adversity:
"You are not acquainted with men. They are difficult to comprehend
if one wishes to be strictly just. Can they understand or explain
even their own characters? Almost all those who abandoned me would had
I continued to be prosperous, never perhaps have dreamed of their
own defection. There are vices and virtues which depend upon
circumstances. Our last trials were beyond all human strength! Besides
I was forsaken rather than betrayed; there was more weakness than
of perfidy around me. It was the denial of St. Peter . Tears and
penitence are probably at hand. And where will you find in the
page of history any one possessing a greater number of friends
and partisans? Who was ever more popular and more beloved? Who was
ever more ardently and deeply regretted? Here from this very rock
on viewing the present disorders in France who would not be tempted
to say that I still reign there? No; human nature might have appeared
in a more odious light."
Las Casas, who shared with Napoleon his weary years of imprisonment
at St. Helena says of him: "He views the complicated circumstances
of his from so high a point that individuals escape his notice. He
never evinces the least symptom of virulence toward those of whom
it might be supposed he has the greatest reason to complain. His
strongest mark of reprobation, and I have had frequent occasions
to notice it, is to preserve silence with respect to them whenever
they are mentioned in his presence. But how often has he been heard
to restrain the violent and less reserved expressions of those
about him?"
"And here I must observe," say Las Casas, "that since I have become
acquainted with the Emperor's character, I have never known him to
evince, for a single moment, the least feeling of anger or animosity
against those who had most deeply injured him. He speaks of them
coolly and without resentment, attributing their conduct in some
measure to the place, and throwing the rest to the account of human
weakness."
Marmont, who surrendered Paris to the allies was severely condemned
by Las Casas. Napoleon replied: "Vanity was his ruin. Posterity
will justly cast a shade upon his character, yet his heart will be
more valued than the memory of his career." "Your attachment for
Berthier," said Las Casas, "surprised us. He was full of pretensions
and pride." "Berthier was not with out talent." Napoleon replied,
"and I am far from wishing to disavow his merit, or my partiality;
but he was so undecided!" He was very harsh and overbearing." Las
Casas rejoined. "And what, my dear Las Casas," Napoleon replied,
"is more overbearing than weakness which feels itself protected
by strength! Look at women for example." This Berthier had with
the utmost meanness, abandoned his benefactor, and took his place
in front of the carriage of Louis XVIII. as he rode triumphantly
into Paris. "The only revenge I wish on this poor Berthier," said
Napoleon at the time, "would be to see him in his costume of captain
of the body-guard of Louis."
Says Bourrienne, Napoleon's rejected secretary, "The character
of Napoleon was not a cruel one. He was neither rancorous nor
vindictive. None but those who are blinded by fury, could have
given him the name of Nero or Caligula. I think that I have stated
his real fault with sufficient sincerity to be believed upon my
word. I can assert that Bonaparte, apart from politics, was feeling
kind, and accessible to pity. He was very fond of children, and a
bad man has seldom that disposition. In the habits of private life
he had and the expression is not too strong, much benevolence and
great indulgence for human weakness. A contrary opinion is too
firmly fixed in some minds for me to hope to remove it. I shall,
I fear, have opposers; but I address myself to those who are in
search of truth. I lived in the most unreserved confidence with
Napoleon until the age of thirty-four years, and I advance nothing
lightly." This is the admission of one who had been ejected from
office by Napoleon, and who become a courtier of the reinstated
Bourbons. It is a candid admission of an enemy.
The ships weighed anchor in the darkness of the night, hoping
before the day should dawn to escape the English cruisers which
were hovering about Alexandria. Unfortunately, at midnight, the wind
died away, and it became almost perfectly calm. Fearful of being
captured, some were anxious to seek again the shore. "Be quiet,"
said Napoleon, "we shall pass in safety."
Admiral Gantheaume wished to take the shortest route to France.
Napoleon, however, directed the admiral to sail along as near as
possible the coast of Africa, and to continue that unfrequented
route, till the ships should pass the Island of Sardinia. "In the
mean while," said he, "should an English fleet present itself,
we will run ashore upon the sands, and march, with the handful of
brave men and the few pieces of artillery we have with us, to Oran
or Tunis, and there find means to re-embark." Thus Napoleon, is
this hazardous enterprise braved every peril. The most imminent and
the most to be dreaded of all was captivity in an English prison.
For twenty days the wind was so invariable adverse, that the ships
did not advance three hundred miles. Many were so discouraged and
so apprehensive of capture that it was even proposed to return to
Alexandria. Napoleon was much in the habit of peaceful submission
to that which he could not remedy. During all these trying weeks
he appeared perfectly serene and contented. To the murmuring of
his companions he replied, "We shall arrive in France in safety. I
am determined to proceed at all hazards. Fortune will not abandon
us." "People frequently speak," says Bourrienne, who accompanied
Napoleon upon this voyage, "of the good fortune which attaches to
an individual, and even attends him this sort of predestination,
yet, when I call to mind the numerous dangers which Bonaparte
escaped in so many enterprises, the hazards he encountered, the
chances he ran, I can conceive that others may have this faith.
But having for a length of time studied the 'man of destiny',
I have remarked that what was called his fortune was, in reality,
his genius; that his success was the consequence of his admirable
foresight--of his calculations, rapid as lightning, and of the
conviction that boldness is often the truest wisdom. If, for example,
during our voyage from Egypt to France, he had not imperiously
insisted upon pursuing a course different from that usually taken,
and which usual course was recommended by the admiral, would he
have escaped the perils which beset his path! Probably not. And
was all this the effect of chance. .......... Certainly not."
During these days of suspense Napoleon, apparently as serene in
spirit as the calm which often silvered the unrippled surface of the
sea held all the energies of his mind in perfect control. A choice
library he invariably took with him wherever he went. He devoted
the hours to writing study, finding recreation in solving the most
difficult problems in geometry, and in investigating chemistry and
other scientific subjects of practical utility. He devoted much
time to conversation with the distinguished scholars whom he had
selected to accompany him. His whole soul seemed engrossed in the
pursuit of literary and scientific attainments. He also carefully,
and with most intense interest, studied the Bible and Koran,
scrutinizing, with the eye of a philosopher, the antagonistic
system of the Christian and the Moslem. The limity of the Scriptures
charmed him. He read again and again, with deep admiration,
Christ's sermon upon the mount and called his companions form their
card-tables, to read it to them, that they might also appreciate its
moral beauty and its eloquence. "You will ere long, become devout
yourself," said one of his infidel companions. "I wish I might
become so," Napoleon replied. "What a solace Christianity must be
to one who has an undoubting conviction of its truth." But practical
Christianity he had only seen in the mummeries of the papal church.
Remembering the fasts, the vigils, the penances, the cloisters,
the scourgings of a corrupt Christianity, and contrasting them with
the voluptuous paradise and the sensual houries which inflamed the
eager vision of the Moslem, he once exclaimed in phrase characteristic
of his genius, "The religion of Jesus is a threat, that of Mohammed."
The religion of Jesus is not a threat. Though the wrath of God
shall fall upon the children of disobedience, our Saviour invites
us, in gentle accents, to the green pastures and the still waters
of the Heavenly Canaan; to cities resplendent with pearls and
gold; to mansions of which God is the architect; to the songs of
seraphim, and the flight of cherubim, exploring on tireless pinion
the wonders of infinity; to peace of conscience and rapture dwelling
in pure heart and to blest companionship loving and beloved; to
majesty of person and loftiness of intellect; to appear as children
and as nobles in the audience-chamber of God; to an immorality of
bliss. No! the religion of Jesus is not a threat, though it has too
often been thus represented by its mistaken or designing advocates.
One evening a group of officers were conversing together, upon the
quarter deck, respecting the existence of God. Many of them believed
not in his being. It was a calm, cloudless, brilliant night. The
heavens, the work of God's fingers, canopied them gloriously. The
moon and the stars, which God had ordained beamed down upon them
with serene lustre. As they were flippantly giving utterance to
the arguments of atheism. Napoleon paced to and fro upon the deck,
taking no part in the conversation, and apparently absorbed in his
own thoughts. Suddenly he stopped before them and said, in those
tones of dignity which ever overawed, "Gentlemen, your arguments
are very fine. But who made all those worlds, beaming so gloriously
above us? Can you tell me that?" No one answered. Napoleon resumed his
silent walk, and the officers selected another topic for conversation.
In these intense studies Napoleon first began to appreciate the
beauty and the sublimity of Christianity. Previously to this, his
own strong sense had taught him the principles of a noble toleration;
and Jew, Christian, and Moslem stood equally regarded before him.
Now he began to apprehend the surpassing excellence of Christianity.
And though the cares of the busiest life through which a mortal
has ever passed soon engrossed his energies, this appreciation and
admiration of the gospel of Christ, visibly increased with each
succeeding year. He unflinchingly braved the scoffs of infidel Europe,
in re-establishing the Christian religion in paganized France. He
periled his popularity with the army, and disregarded the opposition
of his most influential friends, from his deep conviction of
the importance of religion to the welfare of the state. With the
inimitable force of his own glowing eloquence, he said to Montholon,
at St. Helena, "I know men, and I tell you that Jesus Christ is
not a man! The religion of Christ is a mystery, which subsists by
its own force, and proceeds from a mind which is not a human mind.
We find in it a marked individuality which originated a train of
words and maxims unknown before. Jesus borrowed nothing from our
knowledge. He exhibited himself the perfect example of his precepts.
Jesus is not a philosopher: for his proofs are his miracles, and
from the first his disciples adored him. In fact, learning and
philosophy are of no use for salvation; and Jesus came into the
world to reveal the mysteries of heaven and the laws of the spirit.
Alexander, Caesar, Charlemagne, and myself have founded empires.
But upon what did we rest the creations of our genius? upon force
. Jesus Christ alone founded his empire upon love. And at this
moment millions of men would die for him. I die before my time,
and my body will be given back to earth, to become food for worms.
Such is the fate of him who has been called the great Napoleon.
What an abyss between my deep misery and the eternal kingdom of
Christ, which is proclaimed, loved, and adored, and which is extending
over the whole earth! Call you this dying? Is it not living rather?
The death of Christ is the death of a God!"
At the time of the invasion of Egypt, Napoleon regarded all forms
of religion with equal respect. And though he considered Christianity
superior, in intellectuality and refinement, to all other modes
of worship, he did not consider any religion as of divine origin.
At one time, speaking of the course which he pursued in Egypt, he
said, "Such was the disposition of the army, that in order to induce
them to listen to the bare mention of religion, I was obliged to
speak very lightly on the subject; to place Jews beside Christians,
and rabbis beside bishops. But after all it would not have been so
very extraordinary had circumstances induced me to embrace Islamism.
But I must have had good reasons for my conversion. I must have
been secure of advancing at least as far as the Euphrates. Change
of religion for private interest is inexcusable. But it may be
pardoned in consideration of immense political results. Henry IV.
said, Paris is well worth a mass . Will it then be said that the
dominion of the East, and perhaps the subjugation of all Asia,
were not worth a turban and a pair of trousers ? And in truth the
whole matter was reduced to this. The sheiks had studied how to
render it easy to us. They had smoothed down the great obstacles,
allowed us the use of wine, and dispensed with all corporeal
formalities. We should have lost only our small-clothes and hats."
Of the infidel Rousseau, Napoleon ever spoke in terms of severe
reprobation. "He was a bad man, a very bad man," said he, "he
caused the revolution." "I was not aware," another replied, "that
you considered the French Revolution such an unmixed evil." "Ah,"
Napoleon rejoined, "you wish to say that without the revolution you
would not have had me. Nevertheless, without the revolution France
would have been more happy." When invited to visit the hermitage
of Rousseau, to see his cap, table, great chair, &c., he exclaimed,
"Bah! I have no taste for such fooleries. Show them to my brother
Louis. He is worthy of them."
Probably the following remarks of Napoleon, made at St. Helena,
will give a very correct idea of his prevailing feeling upon the
subject of religion. "The sentiment of religion is so consolatory,
that it must be considered a gift from Heaven. What a resource
would it not be for us here, to possess it. What rewards have I
not a right to expect, who have run a career so extraordinary, so
tempestuous, as mine has been, without committing a single crime.
And yet how many might I not have been guilty of? I can appear
before the tribunal of God, I can await his judgment, without fear.
He will not find my conscience stained with the thoughts of murder
and poisonings; with the infliction of violent and premeditated
deaths, events so common in the history of those whose lives resemble
mine. I have wished only for the power, the greatness, the glory of
France. All my faculties, all my efforts, all my movements, were
directed to the attainment of that object. These can not be crimes.
To me they appeared acts of virtue. What then would be my happiness,
if the bright prospect of futurity presented itself to crown the
last moments of my existence."
After a moment's pause, in which he seemed lost in thought, he
resumed: "But, how is it possible that conviction can find its way
to our hearts, when we hear the absurd language, and witness the
iniquitous conduct of the greater part of those whose business it
is to preach to us. I am surrounded by priests, who repeat incessantly
that their reign is not of this world; and yet they lay their hands
upon every thing which they can get. The Pope is the head of that
religion which is from Heaven. What did the present chief pontiff,
who is undoubtedly a good and a holy man, not offer, to be allowed
to return to Rome. The surrender of the government of the church,
of the institution of bishops was not too much for him to give, to
become once more a secular prince.
"Nevertheless," he continued, after another thoughtful pause, "it
can not be doubted that, as emperor, the species of incredulity
which I felt was beneficial to the nations I had to govern. How could
I have favored equally sects so opposed to one another, if I had
joined any one of them? How could I have preserved the independence
of my thoughts and of my actions under the control of a confessor,
who would have governed me under the dread of hell!" Napoleon closed
this conversation, by ordering the New Testament to be brought.
Commencing at the beginning, he read aloud as far as the conclusion
of our Savior's address to his disciples upon the mountain. He
expressed himself struck with the highest admiration, in contemplating
its purity, its sublimity, and the beautiful perfection of its
moral code.
For forty days the ships were driven about by contrary winds, and
on the 1st of October they made the island of Corsica, and took
refuge in the harbor of Ajaccio. The tidings that Napoleon had
landed in his native town swept over the island like a gale, and
the whole population crowded to the port to catch a sight of their
illustrious countryman. "It seemed," said Napoleon, "that half of
the inhabitants had discovered traces of kindred." But a few years
had elapsed since the dwelling of Madame Letitia was pillaged by the
mob, and the whole Bonaparte family, in penury and friendlessness,
were hunted from their home, effecting their escape in an open
boat by night. Now, the name of Bonaparte filled the island with
acclamations. But Napoleon was alike indifferent to such unjust
censure, and to such unthinking applause. As the curse did not
depress, neither did the hosanna elate.
After the delay of a few days in obtaining supplies, the ships
again weighed anchor, on the 7th of October, and continued their
perilous voyage. The evening of the next day, as the sun was going
down in unusual splendor, there appeared in the west, painted in
strong relief against his golden rays, an English squadron. The
admiral, who saw from the enemy's signals that he was observed,
urged an immediate return to Corsica. Napoleon, convinced that
capture would be the result of such a manoeuvre, exclaimed, "To do
so would be to take the road to England.
I am seeking that to France. Spread all sail. Let every one be at
his post. Steer to the northwest. Onward." The night was dark, the
wind fair. Rapidly the ships were approaching the coast of France,
through the midst of the hostile squadron, and exposed to the most
imminent danger of capture. Escape seemed impossible. It was a
night of fearful apprehension and terror to all on board, excepting
Napoleon. He determined, in case of extremity, to throw himself
into a boat, and trust for safety to darkness and the oars. With the
most perfect self-possession and composure of spirits, he ordered
the long-boat to be prepared, selected those whom he desired to
accompany him, and carefully collected such papers as he was anxious
to preserve. Not an eye was closed during the night. It was indeed
a fearful question to be decided. Are these weary wanderers, in a
few hours, to be in the embrace of their wives and their children,
or will the next moment show them the black hull of an English
man-of war, emerging from the gloom, to consign them to lingering
years of captivity in an English prison? In this terrible hour
no one could perceive that the composure of Napoleon was in the
slightest degree ruffled. The first drawn of the morning revealed
to their straining vision the hills of France stretching along
but a few leagues before them, and far away, in the northeast, the
hostile squadron, disappearing beneath the horizon of the sea. The
French had escaped. The wildest bursts of joy rose from the ships.
But Napoleon gazed calmly upon his beloved France, with pale cheek
and marble brow, too proud to manifest emotion. At eight o'clock
in the morning the four vessels dropped anchor in the little harbor
of Frejus. It was the morning of the 8th of October. Thus for fifty
days Napoleon had been tossed upon the waves of the Mediterranean,
surrounded by the hostile flects of England, Russia, and Turkey,
and yet had eluded their vigilance.
This wonderful passage of Napoleon, gave rise to many caricatures,
both in England and France. One of these caricatures, which was
conspicuous in the London shop windows, possessed so much point and
historic truth, that Napoleon is said to have laughed most heartily
on seeing it. Lord Nelson, as is well known, with all his heroism,
was not exempt from the frailties of humanity. The British admiral
was represented as guarding Napoleon. Lady Hamilton makes her
appearance, and his lordship becomes so engrossed in caressing the
fair enchantress, that Napoleon escapes between his legs. This was
hardly a caricature. It was almost historic verity. While Napoleon
was struggling against adverse storms off the coast of Africa,
Lord Nelson, adorned with the laurels of his magnificent victory,
in fond dalliance with his frail Delilah, was basking in the courts
of voluptuous and profligate kings. "No one," said Napoleon, "can
surrender himself to the dominion of love, without the forfeiture
of some palms of glory."
When the four vessels entered the harbor of Frejus, a signal at
the mast-head of the Muiron informed the authorities on shore that
Napoleon was on board. The whole town was instantly in commotion.
Before the anchors were dropped the harbor was filled with boats,
and the ships were surrounded with an enthusiastic multitude,
climbing their sides, thronging their decks, and rending the air
with their acclamations. All the laws of quarantine were disregarded.
The people, weary of anarchy, and trembling in view of the approaching
Austrian invasion, were almost delirious with delight in receiving
thus as it were from the clouds, a deliverer, in whose potency they
could implicitly trust. When warned that the ships had recently
sailed from Alexandria, and that there was imminent danger that the
plague, might be communicated, they replied, "We had rather have
the plague than the Austrians," Breaking over all the municipal
regulations of health, the people took Napoleon, almost by violence,
hurried him over the side of the ship to the boats, and conveyed
him in triumph to the shore. The tidings had spread from farm-house
to farm-house with almost electric speed, and the whole country
population, men, women, and children, were crowding down to the
shore. Even the wounded soldiers in the hospital, left their cots
and crawled to the beach, to get a sight of the hero. The throng
became so great that it was with difficulty that Napoleon could
land. The gathering multitude, however, opened to the right and the
left, and Napoleon passed through them, greeted with the enthusiastic
cries of "Long live the conqueror of Italy, the conqueror of Egypt,
the liberator of France." The peaceful little harbor of Frejus was
suddenly thrown into a state of the most unheard of excitement.
The bells rang their merriest peels. The guns in the forts rolled
forth their heaviest thunders over the hills and over the waves;
and the enthusiastic shouts of the ever increasing multitudes,
thronging Napoleon, filled the air. The ships brought the first
tidings, of the wonderful victories of Mount Tabor and of Aboukir.
The French, humiliated by defeat, were exceedingly elated by this
restoration of the national honor. The intelligence of Napoleon's
arrival was immediately communicated, by telegraph, to Paris, which
was six hundred miles from Frejus.