SUMMARY OF THE LAST NINE MONTHS.
Nine months have already elapsed from the commencement of my Journal; and I fear that, amid the heterogeneous matters that succeed without order in it, I may have often lost sight of my principal, my only, object—that which concerns Napoleon, and may serve to characterize him. It is to make up for this, where necessary, that I here attempt a summary in a few words; a summary which I propose, moreover, on the same account, to repeat, in future, at intervals of three months.
On quitting France, we remained for a month at the disposal of the brutal and ferocious English Ministry; then our passage to St. Helena occupied three months.
On our landing we occupied Briars nearly two months.
Lastly, we have been three months at Longwood.
Now, these nine months would have formed four very distinct epochs, with one who had taken the pains to observe Napoleon.
All the time of our stay at Plymouth, Napoleon remained thoughtful, and merely passive, exerting no power but that of patience. His misfortunes were so great, and so incapable of remedy, that he suffered events to take their course with stoic indifference.
During the whole of our passage, he constantly possessed a perfect equanimity, and, above all, the most complete indifference; he expressed no wish, shewed no disappointment. It is true, the greatest respect was paid him; he received it without perceiving it; he spoke little, and the subject was always foreign to himself. Any one who, coming suddenly on board, had witnessed his conversation, would undoubtedly have been far from guessing with whom they were in company: it was not the Emperor. I cannot better picture him in this situation than by comparing him to those passengers of high distinction who are conveyed with great respect to their destination.
Our abode at Briars presented another shade of difference. Napoleon, left almost entirely to himself, receiving nobody, constantly employed, seeming to forget events and men, enjoyed, apparently, the calm and the peace of a profound solitude; either from abstraction or contempt, not condescending to notice the inconveniences or privations with which he was surrounded. If he now and then dropped an expression relative to them, it was only when roused by the importunity of some Englishman, or excited by the recital of the outrages suffered by his attendants. His whole day was occupied in dictation; the rest of the time dedicated to the relaxation of familiar conversation. He never mentioned the affairs of Europe; spoke rarely of the Empire, very little of the Consulate; but much of his situation as General in Italy; still more, and almost constantly, of the minutest details of his childhood and his early youth. The latter subjects, especially, seemed at this time to have a peculiar charm for him. One would have said that they afforded him a perfect oblivion; they excited him even to gaiety. It was almost exclusively with these objects that he employed the many hours of his nightly walks by moonlight.
Finally, our establishment at Longwood was a fourth and last change. All our situations hitherto had been but short and transitory. This was fixed, and threatened to be lasting. There, in reality, were to commence our exile and our new destinies. History will take them up there; there the eyes of the world were to be directed to consider us. The Emperor, seeming to make this calculation, regulates all about him, and takes the attitude of dignity oppressed by power; he traces around him a moral boundary, behind which he defends himself, inch by inch, against indignity and insult. He no longer gives way on any point to his persecutors; he shews himself sensibly jealous in respect to forms, and hostile to all encroachment. The English never doubted that habit would, in the end, produce formality. The Emperor brings them to it from the first day, and the most profound respect is manifested.
It was no small surprise to us, and no slight satisfaction to have to observe among ourselves, that, without knowing how or why, it was nevertheless perceptible that the Emperor now stood higher in the opinion and the respect of the English than he had hitherto done: we could even perceive that this sentiment was every day increasing. With us the Emperor resumed entirely, in his conversations, the examination of the affairs of Europe. He analyzed the projects and the conduct of the Sovereigns: he compared them with his own; weighed, decided, spoke of his reign, of his deeds; in a word, we once more found him the Emperor, and all Napoleon. Not that he had ever ceased to be so for an instant, as regarded our devotion and our attentions; neither had we, on our side, had any thing to endure from him in any respect.
Never did we experience a more even temper, a more constant kindness, a more unaltered affection. It was, in fact, among us, as in the midst of his family, that he concerted his attacks upon the common enemy; and those which appear the most vigorous, and seem to be dictated by anger, were, however, almost always accompanied with some laughter or pleasantry.
The Emperor’s health, during the six months preceding our establishment at Longwood, did not seem to undergo any change; though his regimen was so completely altered. His hours, his food, were no longer the same; his habits were completely deranged. He who had been accustomed to so much exercise had been confined all this time to a room. Bathing had become part of his existence, and he was constantly deprived of it. It was not till after his arrival at Longwood, and when he was again supplied with some of these things, when he rode on horseback, and returned to the use of the bath, that we began to perceive a sensible alteration.
It is a singular circumstance that, so long as he was uncomfortably situated he suffered nothing; it was not till he was better off that he was seen to be in pain. May it not be that, in the moral as in the physical system, there is often a long interval between causes and their effects?