I had no particular acquaintance with any of those who had followed the Emperor, excepting General and and Madame Bertrand, who had shewn me great attention[attention] during my mission to Illyria, where he was Governor-General. I had until then never spoken to the Duke de Rovigo, certain prepossessions having induced me to keep at a distance; we had, however, scarcely exchanged a few words, when my scruples were completely removed. Savary was sincerely attached to the Emperor; I knew he possessed warmth of heart, sincerity, and uprightness of character, qualities which rendered him susceptible of real friendship; we should, therefore, I dare say, have become very intimate.

I was again sent for by the Emperor; who, after alluding to different subjects, began to speak of St. Helena, asking me what sort of a place it could be; whether it was possible to exist there? and similar questions. “But,” said he, “after all, is it quite certain that I shall go there? Is a man dependent on others, when he wishes that his dependence should cease?”—We continued to walk to and fro in the cabin; he seemed calm, though affected, and somewhat absent.

“My friend,” continued the Emperor, “I have sometimes an idea of quitting you, and this would not be very difficult; it is only necessary to create a little mental excitement, and I shall soon have escaped.—All will be over, and you can then quietly rejoin your families. This is the more easy, since my internal principles do not oppose any bar to it:—I am one of those who conceive that the pains of the other world were only imagined as a counterpoise to those inadequate allurements which are offered to us there. God can never have willed such a contradiction to his infinite goodness, especially for an act of this kind; and what is it after all, but wishing to return to him a little sooner?”

I remonstrated warmly against such notions. Poets and philosophers had said that it was a spectacle worthy of the Divinity, to see men struggling with fortune: reverses and constancy had their glory. Such a great and noble character as his could not descend to the level of vulgar minds; he who had governed us with so much glory, who had excited the admiration, and influenced the destinies, of the world, could not end like a desperate gamester or a disappointed lover. What would then become of all those who looked up to and placed their hopes in him? Would he thus abandon the field to his enemies? The anxiety shewn by the latter to drive him to it was surely sufficient to make him resist: who could tell the secrets of time, or dare assert what the future would produce? What might not happen from the mere change of a ministry, the death of a Prince, that of a confidant, the slightest passion, or the most trifling dispute?

“Some of these suggestions have their weight,” said the Emperor, “but what can we do in that desolate place?”—“Sire,” I replied, “we will live on the past: there is enough in it to satisfy us. Do we not enjoy the life of Cæsar and that of Alexander? We shall possess still more, you will re-peruse yourself, Sire!” “Be it so!” rejoined Napoleon; “we will write our Memoirs. Yes, we must be employed; for occupation is the scythe of Time. After all, a man ought to fulfil his destinies; this is my grand doctrine:[[8]] let[let] mine also be accomplished.” Re-assuming from this instant an air of ease and even gaiety, he passed on to subjects totally unconnected with our situation.

DEPARTURE FROM PLYMOUTH.—CONTINUANCE IN THE CHANNEL.—PROTEST.

4th.—Orders had arrived during the night for us to sail at an early hour; we set sail, which circumstance puzzled us much. The newspapers, official communications, and private conversations, told us we were to be conveyed to St. Helena by the Northumberland: we knew that this ship was still fitting out at Portsmouth or Chatham, so that we might still calculate on eight or ten days’ delay. The Bellerophon was too old for the voyage, she had not provisions enough; moreover the wind was contrary; when therefore we saw the ship returning up Channel, our uncertainty and conjectures were renewed, but whatever these might be, every thing was welcome when compared to the idea of transportation to St. Helena.

Nevertheless, it occurred to us that, in such a decisive moment, the Emperor was bound to shew a formal opposition to this violence; as to Napoleon himself, he attached but little importance to it, nor would he trouble himself about the matter. However, said we, it will be a weapon in the hands of our friends, and leave causes of remembrance as well as grounds of defence with the public. I ventured, therefore, to read a paper I had prepared to his Majesty, with the general sense of which he seemed pleased; after suppressing a few phrases, and correcting others, it was signed and sent to Lord Keith. The following is a literal copy of this document.

PROTEST.

“I hereby solemnly protest in the face of heaven and mankind, against the violence that is done me; and the violation of my most sacred rights, in forcibly disposing of my person and liberty. I voluntarily came on board the Bellerophon—I am not the prisoner, I am the guest of England. I came at the instigation of the Captain himself, who said he had orders from the Government to receive and convey me to England, together with my suite, if agreeable to me. I came forward with confidence to place myself under the protection of the laws of England. When once on board the Bellerophon, I was entitled to the hospitality of the British people. If the Government, in giving the Captain of the Bellerophon orders to receive me and my followers, only wished to lay a snare, it has forfeited its honour and disgraced its flag.