Meanwhile we advanced in our course, and were soon to be out of Europe. Thus, in less than six weeks, had the Emperor abdicated his throne, and placed himself in the hands of the English, who were now hurrying him to a barren rock in the midst of a vast ocean! This is certainly no ordinary instance of the chances of fortune, and no common trial of the firmness of the mind. Yet will posterity be better able to judge of these three leading circumstances than we of the present day. They will have to pronounce on a clear horizon; whereas we are enveloped in clouds.
Scarcely had Napoleon descended from his throne, when those who witnessed the misfortunes of the nation, which followed, regarded his sacrifice as a capital error. When they heard of his being a prisoner at Plymouth, they censured his magnanimity; there was not a single incident, even to his suffering himself to be sent to St. Helena, which they did not make a subject of reproach. But such is the tendency of vulgar minds: never judging except on what they see at the moment! It is, however, impossible to judge of one resolution without considering, not only the evils which unavoidably attend it, but those which a contrary determination might have produced.
By abdicating, Napoleon rallied all the friends of their country round one point—that of its safety! He left France demanding, before all nations, nothing but the sacred rights of national independence; he took from the Allies every pretext to ravage and dismember our territory; he destroyed all idea of his personal ambition; terminating his career as the martyr of a cause of which he had been the hero. If all the advantages which might have been derived from his genius and talents as a citizen were not obtained, it is to be imputed to the weakness and treachery of the transitory Government by which he was succeeded. When he arrived at Rochefort, and the commander of the frigates refused to sail, ought he to have abandoned the fruits of his abdication? Should he have returned to the interior, and placed himself at the head of mere bands, when he had renounced armies? or, ought he to have desperately encouraged a civil war which would lead to no beneficial result, but only serve to ruin the remaining pillars, the future hopes, of the country? In this state of affairs, he formed a most magnanimous resolution, worthy of his life, and a complete refutation of the calumnies that for twenty years had been so ridiculously accumulated on his head. But what will history say of those Ministers of a liberal nation, the guardians and depositaries of popular rights—ever ardent in encouraging a Coriolanus, having only chains for a Camillus?
As to the reproach of suffering himself to be transported to St. Helena, it would be a disgrace to answer such a charge. To contend with an adversary in the cabin of a ship—kill some one with his own hand—or attempt to set fire to the powder-magazine, would have been, at best, the act of a Buccaneer. Dignity in misfortune, submission to necessity, have also their glory: it is that which becomes great men overwhelmed by adversity.
When the English Ministers found themselves in possession of Napoleon’s person, passion had much more influence over them than justice or policy. They neglected the triumph of their laws, denied the rights of hospitality, disregarded their own honour, and compromised that of their country. They determined to exile their guest in the midst of the ocean, to keep him prisoner on a rock, two thousand leagues from Europe, and far from all communion with mankind. It seemed that they wished to trust to the anguish of exile, the fatigues of a long voyage, privations of every kind, and the corroding influence of a burning climate, for effecting that which they feared to perform themselves. In order, however, to gain over the public voice, to make it appear that their conduct was indispensably necessary, the newspapers were instigated to irritate the passions of the multitude, by reviving former calumnies and falsehoods; while the Ministers, on their side, represented their own determination as an engagement entered into with their allies. We presented ourselves at the moment of popular effervescence, just as every thing which could render us odious had been brought forward. The public journals were full of the most virulent declamations; maliciously raking up every act and expression of the previous struggle of twenty years that could wound the national pride, or rekindle its hatred. Yet, when all England hurried to the south to see us, during our stay at Plymouth, the conduct and sentiments of the multitudes who came were enough to convince us that this factitious irritation would disappear of itself. Hence we were led to hope, on our departure, that the British people would daily grow more impartial in a cause to which they were no longer parties; that the current of public opinion would eventually turn against Ministers; and that we had thus ensured them formidable attacks and a terrible responsibility for a future day.
THE EMPEROR’S MODE OF LIVING ON BOARD
THE NORTHUMBERLAND.
11th—14th. Our course was shaped across the Bay of Biscay, and double Cape Finisterre. The wind was fair, though light; and the heat excessive: nothing could be more monotonous than the time we now passed. The Emperor breakfasted in his own cabin at irregular hours; we took our breakfast at ten o’clock, in the French style, while the English continued to breakfast in their own way at eight.
The Emperor sent for one of us every morning to know what was going on, the distance run, the state of the wind, and other particulars connected with our progress. He read much, dressed towards four o’clock, and then came into the general cabin; here he played at chess with one of the party: at five o’clock the Admiral, having come out of his cabin a few minutes before, announced that dinner was on the table.
It is well known that Napoleon was scarcely ever more than fifteen minutes at his dinner; here the two courses alone occupied from an hour to an hour and a half: this was to him a most serious annoyance, though he never mentioned it; his features, gestures, and manner, always evinced perfect indifference. Neither the new system of cookery, the difference nor quality of the dishes, ever met with his censure or approbation; he never expressed any wish or objection on the subject. He was attended by his two valets, who stood behind his chair. At first the Admiral was in the habit of offering to help the Emperor; but the acknowledgment of Napoleon was expressed so coldly that this practice was discontinued. The Admiral continued very attentive, but thenceforth only pointed out to the servants what was preferable; they alone attended to these matters, to which the Emperor seemed totally indifferent, neither seeing, noticing, nor seeking, any thing. He was generally silent, remaining in the midst of conversation as if totally unacquainted[unacquainted] with the language, though it was French. If he spoke, it was to ask some technical or scientific question, and to address a few words to those whom the Admiral occasionally asked to dinner. I was the person to whom the Emperor generally addressed his questions, in order to translate them.
I need scarcely observe that the English are accustomed to remain a long time at table after the dessert, drinking and conversing: the Emperor, already tired by the tedious dinner, could never have endured this custom, and he rose, therefore from the first day, immediately after coffee had been handed round, and went out on deck followed by the Grand Marshal and myself. This disconcerted the Admiral, who took occasion to express his surprise to his officers; but Madame Bertrand, whose maternal language is English, warmly replied—“Do not forget, Admiral, that your guest is a man who has governed a large portion of the world, and that kings once contended for the honour of being admitted to his table.” “Very true,” rejoined the Admiral; and this officer, who possesses good sense, a becoming pliability of manners, and sometimes much elegance, did his utmost from that moment to accommodate the Emperor in his habits. He shortened the time of sitting at table, ordering coffee for Napoleon and those who accompanied him, even before the rest of the company had finished their dinner. The moment Napoleon had taken his coffee, he left the cabin; upon which every body rose till he had quitted the room, and then continued to take their wine for another hour.