_Napoleon's Domestic Habits--Manner in which he spent the day--his
Dress--Nature of the Fragments of Memoirs he dictated to Gourgaud
and Montholon--His admiration of Ossian--He prefers Racine and
Corneille to Voltaire--Dislike of Tacitus--His Vindication of the
Character of Cæsar--His Behaviour towards the Persons of his
Household--Amusements and Exercises--His Character of Sir Pulteney
Malcolm--Degree of his Intercourse with the Islanders, and with
Visitors to the Island--Interview with Captain Basil Hall--with Lord
Amherst and the Gentlemen attached to the Chinese Embassy._
[Sidenote: DOMESTIC HABITS.]
The unpleasant and discreditable disputes, of which we have given some
account in the last chapter, form, unhappily, the most marked events of
Napoleon's latter life. For the five years and seven months that he
remained in the island of St. Helena, few circumstances occurred to vary
the melancholy tenor of his existence, excepting those which affected
his temper or his health. Of the general causes influencing the former,
we have given some account; the latter we shall hereafter allude to. Our
present object is a short and general view of his personal and domestic
habits while in this melancholy and secluded habitation.
Napoleon's life, until his health began to give way, was of the most
regular and monotonous character. Having become a very indifferent
sleeper, perhaps from his custom of assigning, during the active part of
his life, no precise time for repose, his hours of rising were
uncertain, depending upon the rest which he had enjoyed during the
earlier part of the night. It followed from this irregularity, that
during the day time he occasionally fell asleep, for a few minutes, upon
his couch or arm-chair. At times, his favourite valet-de-chambre,
Marchand, read to him while in bed until he was composed to rest, the
best remedy, perhaps, for that course of "thick-coming fancies," which
must so oft have disturbed the repose of one in circumstances so
singular and so melancholy. So soon as Napoleon arose from bed, he
either began to dictate to one of his generals, (Montholon or Gourgaud
generally,) and placed upon record such passages of his remarkable life
as he desired to preserve; or, if the weather and his inclination
suited, he went out for an hour or two on horseback. He sometimes
breakfasted in his own apartment, sometimes with his suite, generally
about ten o'clock, and almost always _à la fourchette_. The fore part of
the day he usually devoted to reading, or dictating to one or other of
his suite, and about two or three o'clock received such visitors as had
permission to wait upon him. An airing in the carriage or on horseback
generally succeeded to this species of levee, on which occasions he was
attended by all his suite. Their horses, supplied from the Cape of Good
Hope, were of a good race and handsome appearance. On returning from his
airings, he again resumed the book, or caused his amanuensis take up the
pen until dinner-time, which was about eight o'clock at night. He
preferred plain food, and eat plentifully, and with an apparent
appetite. A very few glasses of claret, scarce amounting to an English
pint in all, and chiefly drank during the time of dinner, completed his
meal. Sometimes he drank champagne; but his constitutional sobriety was
such, that a large glass of that more generous wine immediately brought
a degree of colour to his cheek. No man appears to have been in a less
degree than Napoleon, subject to the influence of those appetites which
man has in common with the lower range of nature. He never took more
than two meals a day, and concluded each with a small cup of coffee.
After dinner, chess, cards, a volume of light literature, read aloud for
the benefit of his suite, or general conversation, in which the ladies
of his suite occasionally joined, served to consume the evening till ten
or eleven, about which time he retired to his apartment, and went
immediately to bed.
We may add to this brief account of Napoleon's domestic habits, that he
was very attentive to the duties of the toilet. He usually appeared in
the morning in a white night-gown, with loose trousers and stockings
joined in one, a chequered red Madras handkerchief round his head, and
his shirt-collar open. When dressed, he wore a green uniform, very
plainly made, and without ornament, similar to that which, by its
simplicity, used to mark the sovereign among the splendid dresses of the
Tuileries, white waistcoat, and white or nankeen breeches, with silk
stockings, and shoes with gold buckles, a black stock, a triangular
cocked hat, of the kind to be seen in all the caricatures, with a very
small tri-coloured cockade. He usually wore, when in full dress, the
riband and grand cross of the Legion of Honour.[248]
[Sidenote: HIS MEMOIRS.]
Such were the personal habits of Napoleon, on which there is little for
the imagination to dwell, after it has once received the general idea.
The circumstance of the large portion of his time employed in dictation,
alone interests our curiosity, and makes us anxious to know with what he
could have found means to occupy so many pages, and so many hours. The
fragments upon military subjects, dictated from time to time to Generals
Gourgaud and Montholon, are not voluminous enough to account for the
leisure expended in this manner; and even when we add to them the number
of pamphlets and works issuing from St. Helena, we shall still find room
to suppose either that manuscripts remain which have not yet seen the
light, or that Napoleon was a slow composer, and fastidious in the
choice of his language. The last conjecture seems most probable, as the
French are particularly scrupulous in the punctilios of composition, and
Napoleon, emperor as he had been, must have known that he would receive
no mercy from the critics upon that particular.
The avowed works themselves, fragments as they are, are extremely
interesting in a military point of view; and those in which the
campaigns of Italy are described, contain many most invaluable lessons
on the art of war. Their political value is by no means so considerable.
Gourgaud seems to have formed a true estimation of them, when, in answer
to Baron Sturmer's inquiries, whether Napoleon was writing his history,
he expressed himself thus:--"He writes disjointed fragments, which he
will never finish. When asked why he will not put history in possession
of the exact fact, he answers, it is better to leave something to be
guessed at than to tell too much. It would also seem, that not
considering his extraordinary destinies as entirely accomplished, he is
unwilling to detail plans which have not been executed, and which he may
one day resume with more success." To these reasons for leaving blanks
and imperfections in his proposed history, should be added the danger
which a faithful and unreserved narrative must have entailed upon many
of the actors in the scenes from which he was lifting the veil. It is no
doubt true, that Napoleon seems systematically to have painted his
enemies, more especially such as had been once his adherents, in the
most odious colours, and particularly in such as seemed likely to render
them most obnoxious to the ruling powers; but the same principle induced
him to spare his friends, and to afford no handle against them for their
past efforts in his favour, and no motive for taking from them the power
of rendering him farther service, if they should be in a capacity to do
so.
These considerations operated as a check upon the pen of the historian;
and it may be truly said, that no man who has written so much of his own
life, and that consisting of such singular and important events, has
told so little of himself which was not known before from other sources.
But the present is not the less valuable; for there is sometimes as much
information derived from the silence as from the assertions of him who
aspires to be his own biographer; and an apology for, or vindication of,
the course of a remarkable life, however partially written, perhaps
conveys the most information to the reader, next to that candid
confession of faults and errors, which is so very seldom to be obtained
in autobiography.
Napoleon's Memoirs, together with the labour apparently bestowed upon
his controversial pamphlets written against Sir Hudson Lowe, seem to
have furnished the most important part of his occupation whilst at St.
Helena, and probably also of his amusement. It was not to be expected
that in sickness and calamity he could apply himself to study, even if
his youth had furnished him with more stores to work upon. It must be
remembered that his whole education had been received at the military
school of Brienne, where indeed he displayed a strong taste for the
sciences. But the studies of mathematics and algebra were so early
connected and carried on with a view to the military purposes in which
he employed them, that it may be questioned whether he retained any
relish for prosecuting his scientific pursuits in the character of an
inquirer into abstract truths. The practical results had been so long
his motive, so long his object, that he ceased to enjoy the use of the
theoretical means, when there was no siege to be formed, no complicated
manœuvres to be arranged, no great military purpose to be gained by the
display of his skill--but when all was to begin and end with the
discussion of a problem.
That Napoleon had a natural turn for belles lettres is unquestionable;
but his leisure never permitted him to cultivate it, or to refine his
taste or judgment on such subjects. The recommendation which, in 1784,
described him as fit to be sent to the Military School at Paris,
observes, that he is tolerably acquainted with history and geography,
but rather deficient in the ornamented branches, and in the Latin
language.[249] At seventeen years of age, he joined the regiment of La
Fère, and thus ended all the opportunities afforded him of regular
education. He read, however, very extensively; but, like all young
persons, with little discrimination, and more to amuse himself than for
the purpose of instruction. Before he had arrived at that more advanced
period when youths of such talent as his, and especially when gifted
with such a powerful memory, usually think of arranging and classifying
the information which they have collected during their earlier course of
miscellaneous reading, the tumults of Corsica, and subsequently the
siege of Toulon, carried him into those scenes of war and business which
were his element during the rest of his life, and down to the period we
now speak of.
The want of information which we have noticed, he supplied, as most able
men do, by the assistance derived from conversing with persons
possessing knowledge, and capable of communicating it. No one was ever
more dexterous than Napoleon at extracting from individuals the kind of
information which each was best qualified to impart; and in many cases,
while in the act of doing so, he contrived to conceal his own ignorance,
even of that which he was anxiously wishing to know. But although in
this manner he might acquire facts and results, it was impossible to
make himself master, on such easy terms, of general principles, and the
connexion betwixt them and the conclusions which they lead to.
[Sidenote: OSSIAN.]
It was no less certain, that though in this manner Napoleon could obtain
by discoursing with others the insulated portions of information which
he was desirous of acquiring, and though the knowledge so acquired
served his immediate purpose in public life, these were not habits which
could induce him to resume those lighter subjects of study so
interesting and delightful in youth, but which an advanced age is
unwilling to undertake, and slow to profit by. He had, therefore, never
corrected his taste in the belles lettres, but retained his admiration
for Ossian, and other books which had fascinated his early attention.
The declamatory tone, redundancy of expression, and exaggerated
character of the poetry ascribed to the Celtic bard, suit the taste of
very young persons; but Napoleon continued to retain his relish for them
to the end of his life; and, in some of his proclamations and bulletins,
we can trace the hyperbolical and bombastic expressions which pass upon
us in youth for the sublime, but are rejected as taste and reason become
refined and improved. There was indeed this apology for Napoleon's
lingering fondness for Ossian, that the Italian translation, by
Cesarotti, is said to be one of the most beautiful specimens of the
Tuscan language. The work was almost constantly beside him.
Historical, philosophical, or moral works, seem more rarely to have been
resorted to for the amusement of Longwood. We have, indeed, been
informed, that the only books of this description for which Napoleon
showed a decided partiality, were those of Machiavel and Montesquieu,
which he did not perhaps consider as fit themes of public recitation;
Tacitus, who holds the mirror so close to the features of sovereigns, he
is said always to have held in aversion, and seldom to have mentioned
without terms of censure or dislike. Thus will the patient sometimes
loathe the sight of the most wholesome medicine. The French novels of
the day were sometimes tried as a resource; but the habits of order and
decency which Napoleon observed, rendered their levities and
indelicacies unfitted for such society.
There remained another department of literature, from which the party
at Longwood derived frequent resources. The drama occupied a
considerable part of those readings with which Napoleon used to while
away the tedious hours of his imprisonment. This was an indication that
he still retained the national taste of France, where few neglect to
attend the spectacle, in one form or another, during the space betwixt
dinner and the reunion of society in the evening. Next to seeing his
ancient favourite Talma, was to Napoleon the reading some of those
chef-d'œuvres to which he had seen and heard him give life and
personification. He is himself said to have read with taste and effect,
which agrees with the traditions that represent him as having been early
attached to theatrical representations.[250] It was in the discussions
following these readings, which Las Cases has preserved with so much
zeal, that Buonaparte displayed his powers of conversation, and
expressed his peculiar habits and opinions.
Corneille[251] and Racine[252] stood much higher in his estimation than
Voltaire. There seems a good reason for this. They wrote their immortal
works for the meridian of a court, and at the command of the most
monarchical of monarchs, Louis XIV. The productions, therefore, contain
nothing that can wound the ear of the most sensitive sovereign. In the
King of Denmark's phrase, they "have no offence in them."
With Voltaire it is different. The strong and searching spirit, which
afterwards caused the French Revolution, was abroad at this time, and
though unaware of the extent to which it might lead, the philosopher of
Ferney was not the less its proselyte. There were many passages,
therefore, in his works, which could not but be instantly applied to the
changes and convulsions of the period during which Napoleon had lived,
to the despotic character of his government, and to the plans of freedom
which had sunk under the influence of his sword. On this account
Voltaire, whose compositions recalled painful comparisons and
recollections, was no favourite with Napoleon. The _Mahomet_[253] of
that author he particularly disliked, avowing, at the same time, his
respect for the Oriental impostor, whom he accused the poet of traducing
and misrepresenting. Perhaps he secretly acknowledged a certain degree
of resemblance between his own career and that of the youthful
camel-driver, who, rising from a mean origin in his native tribe, became
at once the conqueror and the legislator of so many nations. Perhaps,
too, he remembered his own proclamations while in Egypt, in the assumed
character of a Moslem, which he was wont to term by the true phrase of
_Charlatanerie_, but adding, that it was charlatanerie of a high and
elevated character.
The character of Cæsar was another which Napoleon always strove to
vindicate. The French general could not be indifferent to the Roman
leader, who, like himself, having at first risen into notice by his
victories over the enemies of the republic, had, also like himself,
ended the struggles between the patricians and plebeians of ancient
Rome, by reducing both parties equally under his own absolute dominion;
who would have proclaimed himself their sovereign, even by the
proscribed title of king, had he not been prevented by conspiracy; and
who, when he had conquered his country, thought of nothing so much as
extending an empire, already much too large, over the distant regions of
Scythia and Parthia. The points of personal difference, indeed, were
considerable; for neither did Napoleon indulge in the gross debauchery
and sensuality imputed to Cæsar, nor can we attribute to him the Roman's
powers as an author, or the gentle and forgiving character which
distinguished him as a man.
[Sidenote: CONDUCT TOWARDS HIS HOUSEHOLD.]
Yet, although Napoleon had something vindictive in his temper, which he
sometimes indulged when Cæsar would have scorned to do so, his
intercourse with his familiar friends was of a character the most
amiable. It is true, indeed, that, determined, as he expressed himself
to be Emperor within Longwood and its little demesne, he exacted from
his followers the same marks of severe etiquette which distinguished the
Court of the Tuileries; yet, in other respects, he permitted them to
carry their freedom in disputing his sentiments, or replying to his
arguments, almost beyond the bounds of ordinary decorum. He seemed to
make a distinction between their duty towards him as subjects, and their
privileges as friends. All remained uncovered and standing in his
presence, and even the person who played at chess with him sometimes
continued for hours without sitting down. But their verbal intercourse
of language and sentiments was that of free men, conversing with a
superior, indeed, but not with a despot. Captain Maitland mentions a
dispute betwixt Napoleon and General Bertrand. The latter had adopted a
ridiculous idea that £30,000 a-year, or some such extravagant sum, was
spent in maintaining the grounds and establishment at Blenheim.
Napoleon's turn for calculation easily detected the improbability.
Bertrand insisted upon his assertion, on which Buonaparte said with
quickness, "_Bah! c'est impossible._"--"Oh!" said Bertrand, much
offended, "if you are to reply in that manner, there is an end of all
argument;" and for some time would not converse with him. Buonaparte, so
far from taking umbrage, did all he could to soothe him and restore him
to good-humour, which was not very difficult to effect.[254]
But although Napoleon tolerated freedoms of this kind to a considerable
extent, yet he still kept in his own hands the royal privilege of
starting the topic of conversation, and conducting it as he should think
proper; so that, in some respects, it seemed that, having lost all the
substantial enjoyment of power, he had become more attached than ever to
the observance of its monotonous, wearisome, unprofitable ceremonial.
Yet there might be a reason for this, besides the gratification of his
own pertinacious temper. The gentlemen who inhabited Longwood had
followed him from the purest motives, and there was no reason to suppose
that their purpose would waver, or their respect diminish. Still their
mutual situation compelled the deposed sovereign, and his late subjects,
into such close familiarity, as might perhaps beget, if not contempt, at
least an inconvenient degree of freedom betwixt the parties, the very
possibility of which he might conceive it as well to exclude by a strict
barrier of etiquette.
[Sidenote: AMUSEMENTS.]
We return to Napoleon's habits of amusement. Music was not one of the
number. Though born an Italian, and possessing something of a musical
ear, so far, at least, as was necessary to enable him to hum a song, it
was probably entirely without cultivation.[255] He appears to have had
none of the fanaticism for music which characterises the Italians; and
it is well known that in Italy he put a stop to the cruel methods which
had been used in that country to complete their concerts.
Neither was Napoleon, as we have heard Denon reluctantly admit, a judge
or an admirer of painting. He had some pretence to understand sculpture;
and there was one painting in the Museum, before which he used to pause,
terming it his own; nor would he permit it to be ransomed for a very
large sum by its proprietor the Duke of Modena.[256] But he valued it,
not on account of its merits, though a masterpiece of art, but because
he had himself been the means of securing it to the Museum at a great
sacrifice. The other paintings in that immense collection, however great
their excellence, he seldom paid much attention to. He also shocked
admirers of painting by the contempt he showed for the durability of the
art. Being informed that a first-rate picture would not last above five
or six hundred years, he exclaimed, "Bah! a fine immortality!" Yet by
using Denon's advice, and that of other sçavans, Napoleon sustained a
high reputation as an encourager of the arts. His medals have been
particularly and deservedly admired.
In respect of personal exercise at St. Helena, he walked occasionally,
and while strong, did not shun steep, rough, and dangerous paths. But
although there is some game on the island, he did not avail himself of
the pleasure of shooting. It does not indeed appear that he was ever
much attached to field sports, although, when Emperor, he replaced the
hunting establishment upon a scale still more magnificent, as well as
better regulated, than formerly. It is supposed he partook of this
princely pastime, as it has been called, rather out of a love of
magnificent display than any real attachment to the sport. We may here
mention, in his own words, the danger in which he was once placed at a
boar hunt. The picture will remind the amateur of the pieces of Rubens
and Schneider.
"Upon one occasion at Marli," said the Emperor, "at a boar-hunt, I kept
my ground with Soult and Berthier against three enormous wild-boars, who
charged us up to the bayonet's point. All the hunting party fled: 'twas
a complete military rout. We killed the three animals dead; but I had a
scratch from mine, and had nigh lost my finger" (on which a deep scar
was still visible.) "But the jest was to see the number of men,
surrounded with their dogs, concealing themselves behind the three
heroes, and crying at top of their throats--'to the Emperor's
assistance! save the Emperor! help the Emperor!'--and so forth; but not
one coming forward."[257]
While on the subject of Napoleon's exercises, we may mention another
danger which he incurred by following an amusement more common in
England than in France. He chose at one time to undertake the task of
driving a calash, six in hand, which he overturned, and had a severe and
dangerous fall. Josephine and others were in the vehicle.[258] The
English reader cannot fail to recollect that a similar accident happened
to Cromwell, who, because, as the historian says, he could manage three
nations, took upon him to suppose that he could drive six fiery horses,
of which he had just received a present; and, being as unsuccessful as
Napoleon in later days, overturned the carriage, to the great damage of
the Secretary Thurlow, whom he had placed inside, and to his own double
risk, both from the fall, and from the explosion of a pistol, which he
carried privately about his person. Buonaparte's sole observation,
after his own accident, was, "I believe every man should confine himself
to his own trade."
[Sidenote: SOCIETY AT LONGWOOD.]
The chief resource of Napoleon at St. Helena, as we have already said,
was society and conversation, and those held chiefly with the gentlemen
of his own suite. This need not have been the case, had he been able in
the present instance to command that temper which had not failed him
under great misfortunes, but seemed now to give way under a series of
petty quarrels and mortifications.
The governor and the staff belonging to him were of course excluded from
the society of Longwood, by the terms on which Napoleon stood with Sir
Hudson Lowe. The officers of the regiments which lay in the island might
most probably have afforded some well-informed men, who, having been
engaged in the recent war, would have occasionally supplied amusing
society to the Emperor and his suite. But they did not in general
frequent Longwood. Dr. O'Meara observes, that the governor had exerted
his influence to prevent the officers from cultivating the acquaintance
of the French; which Sir Hudson Lowe repels as a calumny, confuted by
the declarations of the officers of the 53d themselves. But admitting
that no intimations were used of set purpose to keep asunder the British
officers from the French prisoners, such estrangement naturally followed
from the unwillingness of military men to go where they were sure to
hear not only their commanding officer for the time, but also their
country and its ministers, treated with the grossest expressions of
disrespect, while there was no mode of calling the person who used them
either to account or to explanation.
The rank and character of Sir Pulteney Malcolm, who commanded the
squadron upon the station, set him above the feelings which might
influence inferior officers, whether of the army or navy. He visited
Napoleon frequently, and was eulogised by him in a description, which
(though we, who have the advantage of seeing in the features of Sir
Pulteney those of an honoured friend, can vouch for its being just) may
have been painted the more willingly, because it gave the artist an
opportunity of discharging his spleen, while contrasting the appearance
of the admiral with that of the governor, in a manner most unfavourable
to the latter. Nevertheless we transcribe it, to prove that Buonaparte
could occasionally do justice, and see desert even in a Briton.
"He said he had seen the new admiral. 'Ah! there is a man with a
countenance really pleasing, open, frank, and sincere. There is the face
of an Englishman. His countenance bespeaks his heart, and I am sure he
is a good man: I never yet beheld a man of whom I so immediately formed
a good opinion, as of that fine soldier-like old man. He carries his
head erect, and speaks out openly and boldly what he thinks, without
being afraid to look you in the face at the time. His physiognomy would
make every person desirous of a further acquaintance, and render the
most suspicious confident in him.'"[259]
Sir Pulteney Malcolm was also much recommended to Napoleon's favourable
judgment by the circumstance of having nothing to do with the restraints
imposed upon his person, and possessing the power neither of altering or
abating any of the restrictions he complained of. He was fortunate, too,
in being able, by the calmness of his temper, to turn aside the violent
language of Buonaparte, without either granting the justice of his
complaints or giving him displeasure by direct contradiction. "Does your
Government mean," said Napoleon, one day to the English admiral, "to
detain me upon this rock until my death's day?"--"I am sorry to say,
sir," answered Sir Pulteney, "that such I apprehend is their
purpose."--"Then the term of my life will soon arrive," said Napoleon.
"I hope not, sir," answered the admiral; "I hope you will survive to
record your great actions, which are so numerous that the task will
ensure you a term of long life." Napoleon bowed, and was gratified,
probably both as a hero and as an author. Nevertheless, before Sir
Pulteney Malcolm left the island, and while he was endeavouring to
justify the governor against some of the harsh and extravagant charges
in which Napoleon was wont to indulge, the latter began to appeal from
his judgment as being too much of an Englishman to be an impartial
judge. They parted, however, on the best terms, and Napoleon often
afterwards expressed the pleasure which he had received from the society
of Sir Pulteney Malcolm.
The colonists of St. Helena did not, it may be well supposed, furnish
many individuals, sufficiently qualified, by rank and education, to be
admitted into the society of the exile. They, too, lay under the same
awkward circumstances, which prevented the British officers from holding
intercourse with Longwood and its inhabitants. The governor, should he
be displeased at the too frequent attentions of any individual, or
should he conceive any suspicion arising out of such an intercourse, had
the power, and, in the opinion of the colonists, might not want the
inclination, to make his resentment severely felt. Mr. Balcomb, however,
who held the situation of purveyor, with one or two other inhabitants of
the island, sometimes visited at Longwood. The general intercourse
between the French prisoners and the colonists was carried on by means
of the French domestics, who had the privilege of visiting James' Town
as often as they pleased, and whose doing so could infer no
disadvantageous suspicions. But the society of Longwood gained no
advantage by the intercourse with James' Town, although unquestionably
the facility of foreign communication was considerably increased to the
exiles. Their correspondence was chiefly maintained by the way of Bahia;
and it is certain they succeeded in sending many letters to Europe,
although they are believed to have been less fortunate in receiving
answers.
It was to be expected, that some accession to the society of Longwood
might have accrued, from the residence of three gentlemen of rank (two
of them, we believe, having ladies and a family) the commissioners of
Austria, Russia, and France. But here also ceremonial interposed one of
those bars, which are effectual, or otherwise, according to the opinion
of those betwixt whom they are erected. The commissioners of the allied
powers had requested to be presented to Napoleon. On their wish being
announced, he peremptorily declined to receive them in their official
capacity, disclaiming the right which the princes of Europe had to
interfere with and countenance the custody of his person. On the other
hand, the commissioners, finding their public function disowned, refused
to hold any communication with Longwood in their private capacity; and
thus there were excluded from this solitary spot three persons, whose
manners and habits, as foreigners, might have assorted tolerably with
those of the exile and his attendants.
The society of St. Helena receives a great temporary increase at the
seasons when vessels touch there on their way to India, or on their
return to Europe. Of course, every officer and every passenger on such
occasions was desirous to see a person so celebrated as Napoleon; and
there might sometimes occur individuals among them whom he too might
have pleasure in receiving. The regulation of these visits to Longwood
seems to have been one of the few parts of the general system of which
Napoleon made no complaints. He had a natural reluctance to gratify the
idle curiosity of strangers, and the regulations protected him
effectually against their intrusion. Such persons as desired to wait
upon Napoleon were obliged to apply, in the first place, to the
governor, by whom their names were transmitted to General Bertrand, as
grand maréchal of the household, who communicated Napoleon's reply, if
favourable, and assigned an hour at which he was to receive their visit.
Upon such occasions, Napoleon was particularly anxious that the
etiquette of an imperial court should be observed, while the visitors,
on the contrary, were strictly enjoined by the governor not to go beyond
the civilities due to a general of rank. If, therefore, as sometimes
happened, the introduction took place in the open air, the French part
of the company attendant on Buonaparte remained uncovered, while the
English replaced their hats after the first salutation. Napoleon saw the
incongruity of this, and laid his orders on his attendants to imitate
the English in this particular point. It is said, that they did not obey
without scruples and murmurs.
Those visitors who were permitted to pay their respects at Longwood,
were chiefly either persons of distinguished birth, officers of rank in
the army and navy, persons of philosophical inquiry (to whom he was
very partial,) or travellers from foreign regions, who could repay, by
some information, the pleasure which they received from being admitted
to the presence of a man so remarkable. Of these interviews, some who
enjoyed the benefit of them have published an account; and the memoranda
of others we have seen in manuscript. All agree in extolling the extreme
good grace, propriety, and appearance of benevolence, with which
Napoleon clothed himself whilst holding these levees; and which scarce
left the spectators permission to believe that, when surprised by a fit
of passion, or when choosing to assume one for the purpose of effect, he
could appear the rude, abrupt, and savage despot, which other accounts
described him. His questions were uniformly introduced with great tact,
so as to put the person interrogated at his ease, by leading to some
subject with which he was acquainted, while, at the same time, they
induced him to produce any stock of new or curious information which he
possessed.
[Sidenote: CAPTAIN BASIL HALL.]
The Journal of Captain Basil Hall of the Royal Navy, well-known by his
character both in his profession and in literature, affords a pleasing
example of what we have been endeavouring to express, and displays at
the same time the powerful extent of Buonaparte's memory. He recognised
the name of Captain Hall instantly, from having seen his father, Sir
James Hall, Bart. when he was at the Military Academy of Brienne, to
which visit Sir James had been led by the love of science, by which he
was always distinguished. Buonaparte explained the cause of his
recollecting a private individual, after the intervention of such
momentous events as he had himself been concerned in. "It is not," he
said, "surprising. Your father was the first Englishman that I ever saw;
and I have recollected him all my life on that account." He was
afterwards minute in his inquiries respecting the Royal Society of
Edinburgh, of which Sir James Hall was long President. He then came to
the very interesting subject of the newly-discovered island of Loo-Choo;
and Captain Hall gives an account of the nature of the interrogations
which he underwent, which we will not risk spoiling by an attempt at
condensing it.
"Having settled where the island lay, he cross-questioned me about
the inhabitants with a closeness--I may call it a severity of
investigation--which far exceeds every thing I have met with in any
other instance. His questions were not by any means put at random,
but each one had some definite reference to that which preceded it,
or was about to follow. I felt in a short time so completely exposed
to his view, that it would have been impossible to have concealed or
qualified the smallest particular. Such, indeed, was the rapidity of
his apprehension of the subjects which interested him, and the
astonishing ease with which he arranged and generalized the few
points of information I gave him, that he sometimes outstripped my
narrative, saw the conclusion I was coming to before I spoke it, and
fairly robbed me of my story.
"Several circumstances, however, respecting the Loo-Choo people,
surprised even him a good deal; and I had the satisfaction of seeing
him more than once completely perplexed, and unable to account for
the phenomena which I related. Nothing struck him go much as their
having no arms. '_Point d'armes!_' he exclaimed, '_c'est à dire
point de canons--ils ont des fusils?_' Not even muskets, I replied.
'_Eh bien donc--des lances, ou, au moins, des arcs et des flèches?_'
I told him they had neither one nor other. '_Ni poignards?_' cried
he, with increasing vehemence.--'No, none.'--'_Mais!_' said
Buonaparte, clenching his fist, and raising his voice to a loud
pitch, '_Mais! sans armes, comment se bat-on?_'
"I could only reply, that as far as we had been able to discover,
they had never had any wars, but remained in a state of internal and
external peace. 'No wars!' cried he, with a scornful and incredulous
expression, as if the existence of any people under the sun without
wars was a monstrous anomaly.
"In like manner, but without being so much moved, he seemed to
discredit the account I gave him of their having no money, and of
their setting no value upon our silver or gold coins. After hearing
these facts stated, he mused for some time, muttering to himself, in
a low tone, 'Not know the use of money--are careless about gold and
silver.' Then looking up, he asked, sharply, 'How then did you
contrive to pay these strangest of all people for the bullocks and
other good things which they seem to have sent on board in such
quantities?' When I informed him that we could not prevail upon the
people of Loo-Choo to receive payment of any kind, he expressed
great surprise at their liberality, and made me repeat to him twice,
the list of things with which we were supplied by these hospitable
islanders."
The conversation proceeded with equal spirit, in which it is singular to
remark the acuteness of Napoleon, in seizing upon the most remarkable
and interesting facts, notwithstanding the hurry of a casual
conversation. The low state of the priesthood in Loo-Choo was a subject
which he dwelt on without coming to any satisfactory explanation.
Captain Hall illustrated the ignorance of the people of Loo-Choo with
respect to all the world, save Japan and China, by saying they knew
nothing of Europe at all--knew nothing of France and England--and never
had even heard of his Majesty; at which last proof of their absolute
seclusion from the world, Napoleon laughed heartily. During the whole
interview, Napoleon waited with the utmost patience until his questions
were replied to, inquired with earnestness into every subject of
interest, and made naturally a most favourable impression on his
visitor.
"Buonaparte," says the acute traveller, "struck me as differing
considerably from the pictures and busts I had seen of him. His face
and figure looked much broader and more square, larger, indeed, in
every way, than any representation I had met with. His corpulency,
at this time universally reported to be excessive, was by no means
remarkable. His flesh looked, on the contrary, firm and muscular.
There was not the least trace of colour in his cheeks; in fact, his
skin was more like marble than ordinary flesh. Not the smallest
trace of a wrinkle was discernible on his brow, nor an approach to a
furrow on any part of his countenance. His health and spirits,
judging from appearances, were excellent; though at this period it
was generally believed in England, that he was fast sinking under a
complication of diseases, and that his spirits were entirely gone.
His manner of speaking was rather slow than otherwise, and perfectly
distinct: he waited with great patience and kindness for my answers
to his questions, and a reference to Count Bertrand was necessary
only once during the whole conversation. The brilliant and sometimes
dazzling expression of his eye could not be overlooked. It was not,
however, a permanent lustre, for it was only remarkable when he was
excited by some point of particular interest. It is impossible to
imagine an expression of more entire mildness, I may almost call it
of benignity and kindliness, than that which played over his
features during the whole interview. If, therefore, he were at this
time out of health and in low spirits, his power of self-command
must have been even more extraordinary than is generally supposed;
for his whole deportment, his conversation, and the expression of
his countenance, indicated a frame in perfect health, and a mind at
ease."[260]
The date of this meeting was 13th August, 1817.
[Sidenote: LORD AMHERST.]
In the above interview, Buonaparte played a natural part. Upon another
remarkable occasion, 1st July, 1817, when he received Lord Amherst and
the gentlemen composing and attached to the embassy, then returning from
China, his behaviour and conversation were of a much more studied,
constrained, and empirical character. He had obviously a part to play, a
statement to make, and propositions to announce, not certainly with the
view that the seed he had sowed might fall into barren ground, but that
it might be retained, gathered up, and carried back to Britain, there to
take root in public credulity, and bear fruit sevenfold. He rushed at
once into a tide of politics, declaring that the Russian ascendency was
to be the destruction of Europe; yet, in the same moment, proclaimed the
French and English to be the only effective troops deserving notice for
their discipline and moral qualities. Presently after, he struck the
English out of the field on account of the smallness of the army, and
insisted that, by trusting to our military forces, we were endangering
our naval ascendency. He then entered upon a favourite topic--the
extreme negligence of Lord Castlereagh in failing to stipulate, or
rather extort, a commercial treaty from France, and to wring out of
Portugal reimbursement of our expenses. He seemed to consider this as
sacrificing the interest and welfare of his country, and stated it as
such with a confidence which was calculated to impress upon the hearers
that he was completely serious in the extravagant doctrines which he
announced.
He failed, of course, to make any impression on Lord Amherst, or on Mr.
Henry Ellis, third commissioner of the embassy, to whom a large portion
of this violent tirade was addressed, and who has permitted us to have
the perusal of his private journal, which is much more full on the
subject of this interview than the account given in the printed
narrative of the embassy which appeared in 1817.[261]
Having stated Lord Castlereagh's supposed errors towards the state,
Napoleon was not silent upon his own injuries. It was chiefly in his
conversation with Lord Amherst that he dwelt with great bitterness on
Sir Hudson Lowe's conduct to him in various respects; but totally failed
in producing the conviction which he aimed at. It seemed, on the
contrary, to the ambassador and his attendants, that there never,
perhaps, was a prisoner of importance upon whose personal liberty fewer
actual restraints had been imposed, than on that of the late Sovereign
of France. Mr. Ellis, after personal inspection, was induced to regard
his complaints concerning provisions and wine as totally undeserving of
consideration, and to regret that real or pretended anger should have
induced so great a man to countenance such petty misrepresentations.
The house at Longwood, considered as a residence for a sovereign, Mr.
Ellis allowed to be small and inadequate; but, on the other hand,
regarded as the residence of a person of rank living in retirement,
being the view taken in England of the prisoner's condition, it was, in
his opinion, both convenient and respectable. Reviewing, also, the
extent of his limits, Mr. Ellis observes that greater personal liberty,
consistent with any pretension to security, could not be granted to an
individual supposed to be under any restraint at all. His intercourse
with others, he observes, was certainly under immediate surveillance, no
one being permitted to enter Longwood, or its domains, without a pass
from the governor; but this pass, he affirms, was readily granted, and
had never formed any check upon such visitors as Napoleon desired to
see. The restraint upon his correspondence is admitted as disagreeable
and distressing to his feelings, but is considered as a "necessary
consequence of that which he now is, and had formerly been." "Two
motives," said Mr. Ellis, "may, I think, be assigned for Buonaparte's
unreasonable complaints: The first, and principal, is to keep alive
public interest in Europe, but chiefly in England, where he flatters
himself that he has a party; and the second, I think, may be traced to
the personal character and habits of Buonaparte, who finds an occupation
in the petty intrigues by which these complaints are brought forward,
and an unworthy gratification in the _tracasseries_ and annoyance which
they produce on the spot."
The sagacity of Mr. Ellis was not deceived; for General Gourgaud, among
other points of information, mentions the interest which Buonaparte had
taken in the interview with the embassy which returned to Britain from
China, and conceived that his arguments had made a strong impression
upon them. The publication of Mr. Ellis's account of the embassy
dispelled that dream, and gave rise to proportional disappointment at
St. Helena.
Having now given some account of the general circumstances attending
Buonaparte's residence in St. Helena, while he enjoyed a considerable
portion of health, of his mode of living, his studies and amusements,
and having quoted two remarkable instances of his intercourse with
strangers of observation and intelligence, we have to resume, in the
next chapter, the melancholy particulars of his decline of health, and
the few and unimportant incidents which occurred betwixt the
commencement of his sickness and its final termination.
FOOTNOTES:
[248] Las Cases, tom. ii., pp. 1-7.
[249] See _ante_, vol. ii., pp. 7 and 8, _note_.
[250] "Plays occupied our attention for the future; tragedies in
particular. Napoleon is uncommonly fond of analyzing them, which he does
in a singular mode of reasoning, and with a great deal of taste. He
remembers an immense quantity of poetry, which he learned when he was
eighteen years old, at which time, he says, he knew more than he does at
present."--LAS CASES, tom. i., p. 249.
[251] "Tragedy fires the soul, elevates the heart, and is calculated to
generate heroes. Considered under this point of view, perhaps, France
owes to Corneille a part of her great actions; and, had he lived in my
time, I would have made him a prince."--NAPOLEON, tom. i., p. 250.
[252] "Napoleon is delighted with Racine, in whom he finds an abundance
of beauties. He thinks but 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."--LAS
CASES, tom. i., p. 249.
[253] "Voltaire, in the character and conduct of his hero, has departed
both from nature and history. He has degraded Mahomet, by making him
descend to the lowest intrigues. He has represented a great man who
changed the face of the world, acting like a scoundrel, worthy of the
gallows. He has no less absurdly travestied the character of Omar, which
he has drawn like that of a cut-throat in a melo-drama. Voltaire
committed a fundamental error in attributing to intrigue that which was
solely the result of opinion. Those who have wrought great changes in
the world, never succeeded by gaining over chiefs: but always by
exciting the multitude. The first is the resource of intrigue, and
produces only secondary results: the second is the resort of genius, and
transforms the face of the universe."--NAPOLEON, _Las Cases_, tom. ii.,
p. 80.
[254] Narrative, p. 234.
[255] "The sound of bells produced upon Napoleon a singular effect. When
we were at Malmaison, and while walking in the avenue leading to Ruel,
how often has the booming of the village bell broken off the most
interesting conversations. He stopped, lest the moving of our feet might
cause the loss of a tone in the sounds which charmed him. The influence,
indeed, was so powerful, that his voice trembled with emotion while he
said--'That recalls to me the first years I passed at Brienne.'"--BOURRIENNE,
tom. iii., p. 222.
[256] See _ante_, vol. ii., p. 76.
[257] Las Cases, tom. ii., p. 325.
[258] Las Cases, tom. ii., p. 324.
[259] O'Meara, vol. i., p. 65.
[260] Captain Hall's Voyage to the Eastern Seas, vol. i., ch. vii., pp.
302, 319.
[261] See APPENDIX, No. IV., for one of the best and most authentic
accounts of Napoleon's conversation and mode of reasoning.