INTRODUCTION. (continued 4)

The Emperor never ceased to repeat that Egypt ought to have remained in the possession of the French, which would infallibly have been the case had the country been defended by Kleber or Desaix. “These were my two most distinguished lieutenants,” said he; “both possessed great and rare merits, though their characters and dispositions were very different.”

Kleber’s was the talent of nature; Desaix’s was entirely the result of education and assiduity. The genius of Kleber only burst forth at particular moments, when roused by the importance of the occasion; and then it immediately slumbered again in the bosom of indolence and pleasure. The talent of Desaix was always in full activity; he lived only for noble ambition and true glory: his character was formed on the true ancient model. The Emperor said that his death was the greatest loss he could possibly have sustained. Their conformity of education and principles would always have preserved a good understanding between them. Desaix would have been satisfied with secondary rank, and would have remained ever devoted and faithful. Had he not been killed at the battle of Marengo, the First Consul would have given him the command of the army of Germany, instead of continuing it to Moreau. A very extraordinary circumstance in the destiny of these two lieutenants of Napoleon was that on the very day and at the very hour when Kleber was assassinated at Cairo, Desaix was killed by a cannon-ball at Marengo.

THE EMPEROR’S METHOD OF DICTATING.

October 1st—3rd. The wind, the sea, and the temperature still continued without variation. The westerly wind, which had at first been so much in our favour, now began to be adverse. We had taken an easterly direction, in the hope of falling in with the trade-winds; but we now found ourselves to the leeward of the place of our destination, through the continuance of the westerly winds—a circumstance which surprised every body, and excited dissatisfaction among the crew.

149The Emperor every morning regularly continued his dictation, in which he daily took a deeper interest; consequently his hours henceforth seemed less tedious.

The vessel had been sent out of port in such a hurry that many repairs remained to be completed after we had put to sea, and the painting of the ship had only recently been finished. The Emperor’s sense of smelling is extremely delicate; and he found the paint so very offensive that he was forced to confine himself to his cabin for two days.

Every evening, when taking his walk on deck, he loved to revert to the occupation of the morning. At first, he was assisted by no other document than a wretched work entitled Guerres des Français en Italie, written without end or object, and devoid of any connected chronological plan. The Emperor glanced through it, and his memory supplied all deficiences: this faculty indeed appeared to me the more extraordinary since it always seemed to be in readiness when needed, and as if at command.

When the Emperor commenced his daily dictations, he always complained that the circumstances to which he wished to recur were no longer familiar to him. He seemed to want confidence in himself, saying he should never get through the task. After considering for a few moments he would rise and walk about, and then begin to dictate. From that moment he was quite another man: every thing flowed smoothly; he spoke as if by inspiration; places, dates, phrases—he stopped at nothing.

On the following day I read to him what he had dictated. After making the first correction he continued to go on with the same subject, as though he had said nothing about it the day before. The difference between the first and the second version was very great: the latter was more positive and diffuse, and better arranged; indeed it sometimes materially differed from the first.

On the day succeeding the first correction, the same operation was repeated, and the Emperor commenced his third dictation for the purpose of setting the two former ones right. But after that, had he dictated a 150fourth, a seventh, or a tenth time, as he in some instances did, it would have been a repetition of precisely the same ideas, the same construction of phrases, and almost the same words. It was needless to take the trouble to write, though before his eyes: he paid no attention to what was doing, and continued to the end of his subject. It would have been vain to ask him to repeat any thing that might not have been distinctly heard: he still went on; and as he dictated with great rapidity, I never ventured to interrupt him, lest I should lose still more, and find myself unable to recover the thread of the subject.

A SINGULAR ACCIDENT.

4th—7th. The continuance of the south-west wind was truly unfortunate. We were now going back instead of forward and we had completely entered the Gulf of Guinea. There we perceived a ship, with which we spoke. She proved to be a French ship, driven out of her course like ourselves. She had sailed from a port in Britany, and was bound for the Isle of Bourbon. The Emperor had been much distressed for want of books; and I jokingly said that perhaps I might have a box-full on board that ship, as I had despatched one to the Isle of Bourbon, a few months since. I spoke truly. Such is the caprice of chance! Had I been in quest of this ship, I might have traversed the ocean in vain. This was the identical vessel: I learned her name next day from the officer who had visited her. This officer strangely surprised the French captain, by telling him that the Emperor Napoleon was on board the ship which he then saw making for St. Helena. The poor fellow shook his head sorrowfully, and said, “You have robbed us of our treasure: you have taken away him who knew how to govern us according to our tastes and manners.”

COMPLAINTS OF THE CREW AGAINST THE ADMIRAL.—EXAMINATION OF ANOTHER WORK.—REFUTATIONS.—REFLECTIONS.

8th—11th. The weather continued obstinately settled. We every evening consoled ourselves, for the 151unfavourable state of the day, with the hope of a change during the night; but we arose in the morning with the same disappointment. We had been almost within sight of the Congo, and we stood off. Every one manifested discontent and ennui. The crew complained of the Admiral; had he taken the usual course, said they, we should have reached our destination long before; his caprice, they observed, had led him, in spite of reason, to try an experiment, of which they knew not what might be the consequence. Their murmurs were not, however, so vehement as those raised against Christopher Columbus; we should not have been ill pleased had he been reduced to the necessity of finding another Saint Salvador, in order to evade the crisis. Being for my own part fully occupied, this circumstance engrossed but little of my attention; and after all, one prison was as good as another. As to the Emperor, he was still more unconcerned at this delay; he merely looked upon it as so many days spent.

Les Mémoires de Napoléon Bonaparte, par quelqu’un qui ne l’a jamais quitté pendant 15 ans, (The Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte, by one who was constantly near him, during fifteen years,) was the title of a work which I began to examine after the writings of Sir Robert Wilson. It is a volume of three hundred pages, by an anonymous author—a circumstance in itself sufficient to inspire distrust at the first outset. But the composition and style of the work soon created more positive doubts in the mind of the reflecting reader, who is accustomed to judge of books. Finally, he who has seen and known but little of the Emperor will not hesitate to affirm, on reading the very first pages, that this work is a mere romance, written at pleasure; that the author has never approached the Emperor; and that he is a hundred leagues distant from his language, habits, and every thing concerning him. The Emperor never said to a minister: “Count, do this,”—“Count, execute that.” Ambassadors never attended his levee. Napoleon could not, at fourteen years of age, have made to a lady in company, the reply attributed to him, relative to the Viscomte de Turenne; because from the age of ten to 152eighteen he was attending the Military School, where he could not possibly have been introduced to the company of ladies. It was not Perignon, who did not know him, but Dugommier, who had been his General, who recommended him in so marked a way to the Directory. It was a letter for restoring the Democracy, and not the Bourbons, which an officer addressed to the First Consul, &c.

The Emperor, who in Europe was universally acknowledged to have preserved the most impenetrable secrecy with regard to his plans and views, never indulged in gestures, and still less in soliloquies, which would have been likely to betray him: nor did his anger ever throw him into fits of insanity or epilepsy—an absurd fabrication which was long circulated in the saloons of Paris, but which was relinquished when it was found that those accidents never occurred on important occasions. These Memoirs have unquestionably been an ordered work, the speculation of some bookseller who has furnished the title. Be this as it may, it might have been supposed that, in adverting to a career so public as that of the Emperor and of those who surrounded him, the author might have evinced more accuracy and knowledge of his subject. He is aware of his insufficiency on this head, and seeks to defend himself by saying that he was under the necessity of altering names, and that he did not wish to render certain portraits too striking; but he also observes this circumspection with regard to facts, so that they cannot be recognised. They are for the most part entirely the creations of his own fancy. Thus, the paper whose loss cost the General-in-chief so much anxiety in Egypt; the recommendation of the young Englishman, who transported Bonaparte with joy by opening to him so brilliant a perspective of fortune at Constantinople; the melodrama of Malmaison, where the heroism of Madame Bonaparte (who is described as an absolute amazon) so promptly secures the safety of her husband, may perhaps excite the interest of the reader; but they are only so many fables; and the story relative to Malmaison shews that the author knew no more of the character and disposition of the Empress 153Josephine than of those of the Emperor. The writer, however, by extolling certain traits, praising certain actions, and refuting certain falsehoods, assumes an air of impartiality, which, joined to his pretended situation near the Emperor during fifteen years, produces a wonderful effect in the eyes of common readers. Most of the Englishmen on board the vessel looked upon this work as a kind of oracle. Their opinion was not changed on finding the Emperor’s character so different from that attributed to him in this romance. They were inclined to believe that adversity and constraint had wrought an alteration in the Emperor, rather than to suppose that these printed statements were false. To my observations, they constantly replied:—“But the author was an impartial man, and one who was about the Emperor for fifteen years:”—“But,” said I, “what is this man’s name? If he had personally injured you in his book, how could you bring him to justice? Any body here might have written it!” These arguments were of course unanswerable; but the English found great difficulty in overcoming their first impressions: such are the common mass of readers, and such is the effect inevitably produced by printed falsehoods!

But I shall no longer continue my examination of a work which is not deserving of farther notice; I therefore dispense with the remainder. On revising my manuscript in Europe, I found that public opinion had made such progress that I should be ashamed to waste time in refuting allegations and facts which judgment and common sense have long since rejected, and which are now repeated only by fools.

In endeavouring to subvert the erroneous notions which this author thought proper to create respecting the character of Napoleon, it will perhaps be thought that I should substitute my own opinions in their stead; but this I shall carefully avoid. I shall content myself with noting down all that I saw and heard; I will report his conversations, and nothing more must be expected.

12th—13th. By dint of patience, and with the help of a few trifling variations, we gradually approached the termination of our voyage; and, though deprived of the 154natural monsoon, we had now advanced within a short distance of our place of destination. As we continued our course, the weather gradually improved, and at length the wind became perfectly favourable; but this change did not take place until twenty-four hours before our arrival.

14th.—The Admiral had previously informed us that he expected to come within sight of St. Helena this day. We had scarcely risen from table when our ears were saluted with the cry of Land! This was just within a quarter of an hour of the moment that had been fixed on. Nothing can better prove the advancement of navigation, than this sort of miracle, by which seamen are enabled to foretel the hour at which they shall arrive at a particular point in the vast expanse. The Emperor went on the forecastle to see the island: he thought he perceived it, but I could see nothing. We lay-to all night.

ARRIVAL OFF SAINT-HELENA.

15th.—At day light I had a tolerably near view of the island. At first I thought it rather extensive; but it seemed to diminish considerably as we approached. At length, about seventy days after our departure from England, and a hundred and ten after our departure from Paris, we cast anchor about noon. This was the first link of the chain that was to bind the modern Prometheus to his rock.

We found at anchor several of the vessels of our squadron, which had separated from us, or which we had left behind. They had, however, arrived several days before us: another proof of the extreme uncertainty attending nautical calculations.

The Emperor, contrary to custom, dressed early and went upon deck; he went forward on the gangway to view the island. We beheld a kind of village surrounded by numerous barren and naked hills towering to the clouds. Every platform, every aperture, the brow of every hill, was planted with cannon. The Emperor viewed the prospect through his glass. I stood behind him. My eyes were constantly fixed on his countenance, in which I could perceive no change; and yet he saw 155before him, perhaps his perpetual prison!—perhaps his grave!... What, then, remained for me to feel or to express!

The Emperor soon left the deck. He desired me to come to him, and we proceeded with our usual occupation.

The admiral, who had gone ashore very early, returned about six o’clock, much fatigued. He had been walking about various parts of the island, and at length thought he had found a habitation that would suit us. The place, however, stood in need of repairs which might occupy two months. We had now been confined to our wooden dungeon for nearly three months; and the precise instructions of the Ministers were that we should be detained there until our prison on shore was ready for our reception. The Admiral, to do him justice, was incapable of such barbarity; he informed us, at the same time betraying a sort of inward satisfaction, that he would take upon himself the responsibility of putting us ashore next day.

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