The only stranger I saw was Doctor Barry, who frequently visited me. I

found his company very agreeable. He constantly recommended me to take

care of my health. He said he could guess the seat of my disorder, and

regretted that it was out of his power to prescribe any remedy for me.

I assured him that the greatest favour he could confer on me would be

to procure a person who could read to me and write from my dictation.

This I had been vainly soliciting since my arrival, for the state of

my eyes precluded all occupation, and my son was strictly enjoined to

abstain from all sedentary employment. I therefore laboured under an

intolerable depression of spirits, in being thus wholly abandoned to

my melancholy thoughts.

The Doctor informed me that the Governor was about to depart, to make

a tour over the colony, and that he would be absent about three

months. This information precluded the hope of any change in my

condition. I determined to make a last attempt, not that I counted on

its success, but only because I wished to leave nothing untried; for

the horrible and truly discourteous way in which I had been treated

astonished me less than it was calculated to do. I was prepared for

it. At St. Helena, we had been repeatedly informed that Lord Charles

Somerset was our personal enemy, and, on my arrival at the Cape, when

I made inquiries respecting his character and the sort of reception I

was likely to experience, I was told that nothing but a dog or a horse

could claim his attention. Subsequently, in the solitude of my prison,

I often thought to myself that, being neither a dog nor a horse, I

might despair of obtaining any notice from the Governor. I shall soon

show how little Lord Charles Somerset deserved these reflections.

Profiting by a passage in his letter, in which he expressed a wish to

render my stay at the Cape as agreeable as possible, I took the

opportunity in my next letter candidly to communicate to him my

thoughts respecting the treatment I experienced. My letter was as

follows:—

“MY LORD,—I learn that your Excellency is on the eve of leaving Cape

Town, and that you will be absent for a considerable time: this

induces me, with extreme repugnance, to enter upon a disagreeable

subject, and to call your Excellency’s attention to a few domestic

details. I think it my duty to do this, for otherwise, should any

public expression of dissatisfaction hereafter escape me, I might

justly incur the reproach of having addressed no complaint to your

Excellency.

“But before I enter on the subject, my Lord, that you may not regard

as ridiculous the facts which I am about to state: and also to afford

you a just idea of the circumstances in which I am placed, of which I

think it very probable your Excellency is ignorant, permit me to

observe, with all the embarrassment of one who is obliged to introduce

himself, that there is no individual here with whom I may not, and

ought not naturally and without reserve to place myself on a level _in

every respect whatever_. Finally, I neither request, nor solicit any

indulgence nor favour relative to my personal wants, wishing in this

respect to depend entirely on my own resources.

“These two points being fixed and determined, I proceed to that

passage in your letter in which you have the goodness to express your

wish of rendering my stay here as agreeable as possible. On this

subject, I must acquaint your Excellency that I am imprisoned in a

kind of dungeon, in which it will be difficult for me much longer to

support existence.

“My son and I, who are both unwell, are, in this extremely hot

weather, lodged in a very small chamber, where we breathe unwholesome

air, and have scarcely room to move, for our beds nearly fill it. The

scorching rays of the sun, darting on a window without curtains,

compel me to pass the day in bed. There is, it is true, another

adjoining apartment of the same kind; but it is a dining room, where

two of your officers do the honours of the table. If I occasionally

enter this room, I count every moment I spend in it. There is a third

room, which is occupied by the officer who is appointed as our guard,

and through which I must pass, however unpleasant to me, on every

indispensable occasion.

“Whatever may be the hardships and miseries of such a situation, I

have been a sailor, I have been a soldier, and what is more, I am a

man, and I can in silence endure this and even more. I speak here,

only in answer to the obliging paragraph in your letter. There is no

fire in our apartments; so that if we should require warm water, on

account of my son’s health or any transient wants, we must either do

without it, or have recourse to the charity of our neighbours. The

Doctor has in vain prescribed the use of the bath for my son; no water

can be obtained for this purpose. If I feel a wish to procure any

little thing at my own expense, I am informed that your Excellency has

ordered every thing to be provided for me; and thus, from motives of

delicacy I repress my wish, and abstain from gratifying it.

“I spare your Excellency a multitude of details, which are equally

beneath your notice and mine. When the hour of dinner arrives, two

officers, who, I feel pleasure in acknowledging, treat me with great

politeness and respect, preside at the table. But it is a singular

fact, though a very certain one, that even their attentions add to my

discomfort, by obliging me to endeavour to return them in a suitable

way, though it would be far more natural and desirable for me to allow

my thoughts to wander far from the spot in which I am now situated.

Besides, our habits and manners are totally different. I find myself

under the necessity of sitting for several hours at table, when I

should not from choice sit for half an hour. All conversation must be

disagreeable to me, unless it be on the subject which now wholly

occupies my thoughts. Your Excellency has too much judgment not to

perceive that the situation in which I am placed is an absolute

torment to me. My melancholy is, doubtless, as irksome to my table

companions as their gaiety is annoying to me. Perfect solitude is

alone agreeable to me; and, therefore, I have completely withdrawn

from the dinner-table, and I take my meals in bed.

“Where is the necessity for an officer being attached to my person? I

presume to ask your Excellency this question, while at the same time I

repeat, with pleasure, that I cannot sufficiently express my

satisfaction with the one whom you have appointed to attend me. Is it

for the purpose of watching me? Surely the sentinel posted at my door

is sufficient for that purpose. Can it be intended as a mark of

respect, for the sake of transmitting any wish that I may express? But

I have no wish. Can it be to give the sanction of authority to any

visits I may receive? I can receive none, except such as are permitted

by authority. Is it for the purposes of accompanying me in my walks? I

will never consent to stir a step, if I must be a trouble to an

officer. I shall not therefore go abroad.

“Since, my Lord, you are determined that I shall remain your prisoner,

what objection can you have to placing me in a house in the town, and

permitting me to engage, at my own expense, any valet, cook, &c. that

may suit me, with the precautions that you may think proper to adopt.

When thus left to myself, your Excellency might provide as you pleased

for my security. You would hear no more of me. If I felt a wish to go

out in a carriage, or otherwise, I could write to the officer: I know

his obliging disposition, and my wish would be granted. I have

mentioned a house in the town, my Lord, because the state of my son’s

health, which requires constant, and often sudden, medical attendance,

renders a residence in the country objectionable.

“Such are the details to which I feel myself compelled to call your

Excellency’s attention. I hope that they may be less disagreeable and

painful to you than they are to me.

“I have the honour to be,” &c.

This letter was, from its nature, calculated to lead to a decisive

result. I received an immediate answer. The Adjutant General came to

inform me, in the name of the Governor—1st. That he had given orders

that a separate chamber should be assigned to my son on the following

day;—2d. That the officers should no longer take their meals with

us;—3d. That a more convenient residence was preparing for us; and,

finally, that if I had any other wish to express, endeavours would be

made to comply with it.

Such was the effect of my letter. It was successful beyond my hopes,

and I congratulated myself on having written it, because it afforded

me the opportunity of discovering traits in the character of Lord

Charles Somerset of which I had previously no idea. But this was not

all.—Early on the following morning, the Governor’s first Aide-de-camp

wrote to acquaint me that he had a communication to make to me on the

part of his Excellency, and he wished me to appoint the hour at which

it would be convenient for me to receive him. On the receipt of my

answer he came, and informed me that the Governor had that morning

left town, to make a tour of three months. His Excellency had

expressed himself very sorry to learn that I had been so exceedingly

unwell, and begged that I would do him the justice to believe that he

was entirely ignorant of the fact. The Aide-de-camp was instructed to

tell me that Lord Charles Somerset had nothing more at heart than to

render my abode at the Cape as agreeable as it could be; and he

offered me the use of his country residence, the servants, and every

thing belonging to it. He begged that I would take possession of it,

repeating that, if I had any other wish, I need only name it, and it

would be complied with. I accepted, without hesitation, the offer of

the change of residence, and the Aide-de-camp went to give the

necessary orders for our immediate removal.

I now discovered how greatly the Governor’s character had been

misrepresented to me. I found that Lord Charles Somerset possessed the

grace and courtesy of manners requisite for his high rank. How much

men differ from one another! At St. Helena, such a letter as I had

written would probably have had the effect of doubly rivetting my

chains; but here it procured for me the offer of a palace. The fact is

in itself sufficient to characterize the two authorities with whom I

have had to treat. Lord Charles Somerset was, indeed, far from

meriting the reports I had heard respecting him. Almost every man has

his detractors; and those who have high functions to discharge seldom

escape the tongue of calumny. Lord Charles, as I had subsequently the

opportunity of ascertaining, is a man distinguished for noble and

generous feeling, moral principle, piety, and perfect benevolence.

None of the vexations by which I had been so greatly harassed

proceeded from him, but from subordinate agents, who executed orders

and influenced decisions. For the persons in authority here, who were

the slaves of vulgar national prejudice, hated us as Frenchmen, and

esteemed themselves happy in subjecting us to all the severity which

it was in their power to inflict.

If I had enjoyed the advantage of personal intercourse with the

Governor, in which, I have reason to believe, there would have been no

difficulty, I doubt not that, in pleading my cause with Lord Charles

Somerset, I should have obtained all I demanded, because my demands

were perfectly just; but my situation withheld me from seeking access

to him, and it seemed to be the wish of those about him to prevent him

from coming near me. He several times announced his intention of

seeing me, it is true, but this intention was never fulfilled.

REMOVAL TO NEWLANDS, THE GOVERNOR’S COUNTRY

RESIDENCE.—DETAILS.

From Jan. 29th to April 5th.—Early this morning, precisely at the hour

that had been appointed, the Governor’s Aide-de-camp drove up to the

door of our prison in a carriage and four. We set out; and in less

than three quarters of an hour we reached Newlands, the Governor’s

country house, which might be accounted a pleasant residence even in

Europe. I could easily perceive that several years had elapsed since

the place had first received its name, for it was surrounded by lofty

trees and thick groves: many of the fruit-trees were in full bearing.

One of the Governor’s Aides-de-camp placed us in possession, with all

due form and with the most studied politeness. He conducted me over

the grounds, and pointed out to me every thing worthy of notice,

without mentioning a word about limits or restrictions. He took an

opportunity of adroitly hinting to me that the soldiers whom I saw

posted about were merely the Governor’s ordinary guards, and had

received none but their usual orders. He added that I might consider

myself at home, as every thing would be done under my own direction.

He then took his leave.

When left to ourselves in this delightful place, we felt that we had

been suddenly removed from a prison to a Paradise. The elegantly

furnished apartments, the dovecots in the vicinity of the house, the

birds of every kind that inhabited the grounds, the numerous

flower-beds, groves, and delightful walks, and the silence and

solitude that prevailed—all presented a somewhat magical effect, and

reminded us of Zemire and Azor.

We had the use of the whole house, in which all the furniture remained

just as it had been left by the Governor’s family; not an article

having been removed. My son, on opening a colour-box, found an

unfinished drawing, by one of the daughters of Lord Charles Somerset.

It was a portrait of the revered object whose fate we deplore; for

where is his image not to be found? Beside the drawing lay the copy

from which it had been taken. It was a wretched sketch; a sort of

caricature likeness of the Emperor, which had been made on board the

Northumberland. This thing seemed to haunt us wherever we went, and we

always destroyed it with the ardent zeal of missionaries breaking the

images of false gods. In the impulse of the moment my son made his

poetical _debut_, by writing the following lines beneath Miss

Somerset’s unfinished drawing:—--

Sous vos doigts élégans tout devrait s’embellir;

C’est aux belles surtout à peindre le courage:

Du héros des héros, du Mars de l’avenir,

Comment avez-vous pu défigurer l’image?

I placed beside the drawing a small medal, which afforded a more

faithful representation of Napoleon. We then shut up the box, pleased

with our trick, and enjoying, in anticipation, Miss Somerset’s

surprise when she should one day read, and we hoped without anger, the

censure which we had presumed to pronounce upon her drawing.

The Governor had carried his attention so far as to send from town a

person to act as Steward at Newlands, to receive from me daily orders

for provisions; and I was given to understand that I might be supplied

profusely with whatever I wished for. But I had adopted Spartan

manners, and I desired to be supplied merely with necessaries. As to

the steward, I changed his occupation, and made him my reader; in

which capacity I found him a most valuable acquisition. By chance this

person proved to be a relative of the only inhabitant of St. Helena

with whom I had formed acquaintance. He was the nephew of the worthy

Amphitryon, our good host of the Briars, for whom I entertain a

sincere regard.

The Aide-de-camp visited us regularly, having received special

instructions to see that we wanted for nothing. I begged that he would

present my thanks and acknowledgments to Lord Charles Somerset, for

the delicate way in which he sought to disguise our captivity. “But it

was all one,” I informed him; “since, in spite of ourselves, we must

deplore our absence from St. Helena and Europe.”

Our departure from prison and removal to Newlands produced quite a

revolution in our condition. We received visits from many individuals,

who expressed themselves anxious to see us. General Hall, who acted as

the Governor’s deputy during his absence, came, accompanied by his

wife, a lady of very pleasing person and manners, and who, moreover,

spoke French exceedingly well. Her husband had been eleven years a

prisoner in France. Mrs. Hall had proceeded thither to join him, in

spite of the severe restrictions which then existed between the two

countries; and, if I recollect rightly, she ventured across the

Channel in an open boat. Both General and Mrs. Hall were intimate with

many of my friends in Paris. General Hall, who is a frank and

honourable man, observed that he should feel happy in repaying me,

without regard to difference of opinion, for all the kind treatment he

had generously experienced in France; and he kept his word.

I was also visited by Colonel Ware, whose wife has a sister married to

one of the members of the present English Ministry. Colonel Ware

resided at a short distance from Newlands, and he came, he said, to

offer me his services as a good neighbour; and, indeed, I found him an

extremely agreeable one, from his kind and unremitting attentions to

me. Finally, a lady, of the highest distinction in every respect, who

at that time accidentally happened to be in the colony, had the

charity several times to visit the captive. This was an unlooked-for

happiness; for the act of kindness thus conferred on me was enhanced

by the charms of agreeable conversation, combined with graceful

manners and the most captivating modesty. She was a lovely European

flower, amidst the heath of the Cape.

We were also visited in our solitude by numerous officers of all

ranks, who expressed sincere sympathy and interest for our

misfortunes. Had their kindness at that time come to the knowledge of

the English Ministry, it might have operated to their prejudice. Even

now, though with a great sacrifice to my feelings, I must refrain from

mentioning their names. But they may be assured that none of their

actions or words were lost upon me; for gratitude is a sentiment

innate in my heart.

Curiosity also had its share in attracting visitors to me. Every

stranger who arrived at the colony, and in particular the numerous

passengers who were proceeding to India, failed not to visit Newlands.

I was a ray flung from Longwood, and all were eager to see one who had

recently been near Napoleon, whom I found to be every where the

universal object of interest, and the constant subject of

conversation.

I had now an opportunity of answering many questions that were

addressed to me respecting the Emperor, the theme on which I always

dwelt most fondly. How many prejudices did I not destroy! How much

astonishment did I not create! It would now be difficult to conceive

how many atrocious and absurd reports respecting the Emperor had

gained credit, owing to the long suspension of intercourse between the

two nations, and their mutual feelings of irritation. Will it be

believed that a military officer of high rank, a man of considerable

intelligence, begged that I would tell him candidly whether Napoleon

was really able to write. He took it for granted that he was a mere

soldier, and nothing else. He seemed indeed, almost to doubt whether

he could read. I laughed, and asked whether he had ever seen his

military proclamations? He replied that he had, but that he supposed

these had been made for him. This officer was much astonished, and

acknowledged that he had nothing further to say on the subject, when I

informed him that, at the age of twenty-seven, Napoleon had been a

Member of the French Institute, undoubtedly the first learned

establishment in Europe.

As soon as we had fixed our residence at Newlands, my first care was

to send to Longwood a few articles of which the Emperor stood in need.

I knew, from experience how many privations he had to endure in that

abode of misery, where it was impossible to procure many things which

long habit had rendered necessary or agreeable. With my heart full of

these recollections, I resolved to transmit to him whatever I could

procure; though I was well aware that the Emperor attached but little

importance to luxuries of any kind. I however ordered some of the best

Constantia and Bordeaux wines, coffee, liqueurs, oil, eau de cologne,

&c. I mentioned that, if they were not of the best quality, I would

decline purchasing them. The Cape is yet but ill supplied with the

luxuries of Europe. Excepting Constantia wine, which is the production

of the place, only small quantities of the articles I had ordered

could be procured. I had taken the precaution to ask General Hall

whether I should be permitted to send the things, and he very politely

replied in the affirmative. With the view of facilitating the

reception of this little package at St. Helena, I had determined not

to have it brought to me at the Cape. I requested the officers of the

Governor’s staff to have the goodness to make the purchases for me,

and only reserved to myself the charge of paying for them. I mentioned

these precautions in a letter to Sir Hudson Lowe, to whom I addressed

the whole. It is stated by Mr. O’Meara that, on the arrival of these

things at St. Helena, Sir Hudson Lowe expressed himself much offended

at what I had done, which, he said, was an insult to the English

Government; and, in answer to me, he afterwards stated that, though I

had acted with much delicacy, yet it was out of his power to permit

the articles to be transmitted to Longwood, because he was charged, in

the name of the English Government, to provide every thing that was

wanting at that establishment.—He forgot that he had often assured us

the sum allowed him was insufficient for the purpose; and that we, on

our part, had frequently complained to him of wanting necessaries.

However, I afterwards understood that the articles had been sent to

Longwood, and I had the inexpressible satisfaction of learning that

the Constantia wine, in particular, had pleased the Emperor. It was

reserved for his own use, and he called it by my name. In his last

moments, when rejecting every thing that was offered, and not knowing

what to have recourse to, he said—“Give me a glass of Las Cases’

wine.” How was I gratified to hear of this!

At the same time, I sent back to Sir Hudson Lowe the note which, at

the sad moment of my departure, had been given to me for the four

thousand louis which I left for the Emperor’s use. It purported that

the sum was to be paid to me at sight. On my hesitating to accept it,

the Governor, Sir Hudson Lowe, ironically said—“Take it, take it. You

will go where the General has funds, and that will enable you to get

payment.” Afterwards, when I came to recollect this circumstance, not

doubting the report that Sir Hudson Lowe would make of it to his

Ministers, I thought it right to send back the note, with the request

that he would transmit to the English Government a correction of the

_erroneous commentaries_, with which I was convinced he had not failed

to accompany his account of the circumstance. “I reserve to myself,”

said I, in my letter to him, “merely the signature, which to me is

more valuable than the sum itself. The note is useless, I added. The

Emperor’s relations would, I am sure, dispute the honour of paying me

back the sum; or, in case of emergency, the first Frenchman I may

happen to meet with will be ready to give me credit for it.”

We had now been two months at Newlands, and, from what I have already

stated, many may be led to believe that we were perfectly happy. But

can there be happiness in a state of captivity, far from one’s native

country? We merely whiled away the hours as agreeably as we could. We

regulated our time, and distributed our occupations. My son pursued

his studies. The piano of the Misses Somerset was one of his favourite

amusements. I read a great deal; for I had books at hand, and my

friends regularly furnished me with the journals and new publications.

In the evenings, my son walked with me in the beautiful groves

surrounding the house; or, as he had bought a horse, he sometimes took

an excursion in the neighbourhood, and then returned to ride backward

and forward in the beautiful alleys of Newlands, where I sat down, and

took pleasure in watching him. I thought I could perceive his health

recruited, and his strength developing itself.

Memoirs of the life, exile, and conversations of the Emperor Napoleon. (Vol. IV) · 第 23 / 40 段