We were surrounded by a kind of garden; but, owing to the little attention which we had it in our power to bestow on its cultivation, joined to the want of water and the nature of the climate, it was a garden only in name. In front, and separated from us by a tolerably deep ravine, was encamped the fifty-third regiment, different parties of which were posted on the neighbouring heights.—Such was our new abode.
On the 12th, Colonel Wilks (formerly Governor for the East India Company), who had been succeeded by the Admiral, came to visit the Emperor. I acted as interpreter on the occasion. On the 13th or 14th the Minden sailed for Europe, and I availed myself of the opportunity thus afforded to send letters to London and Paris.
ARRANGEMENT OF THE EMPEROR’S ESTABLISHMENT.—FEELINGS OF THE CAPTIVES WITH RESPECT TO EACH OTHER.—TRAITS OF THE EMPEROR’S CHARACTER.—PORTRAIT OF NAPOLEON BY M. DE PRADT, TRANSLATED FROM AN ENGLISH NEWSPAPER.—ITS REFUTATION.
15th—16th. The domestic establishment of the Emperor, on his departure from Plymouth, consisted of twelve persons. I feel pleasure in recording their names here: it is a testimony due to their attachment.[[28]] However numerous this establishment may appear, it may be truly said that after our departure from England, during the voyage, and from the time of our landing at St. Helena, it had ceased to be serviceable to the Emperor. Our dispersion, the uncertainty of our establishment, our wants, and the irregular way in which they were supplied, necessarily created disorder.
As soon as we were all assembled at Longwood, the Emperor determined to arrange his establishment, and to assign to each of us an employment suited to our respective capacities. Reserving to the Grand Marshal the general control and superintendence of the whole household; he consigned to M. de Montholon all the domestic details. To M. Gourgaud he intrusted the direction of the stables: and I was appointed to take care of the property and furniture, and to superintend the management of our supplies. The latter part of my duty appeared to interfere too much with the regulation of domestic details. I conceived that it would be conducive to the general advantage, if these two departments were under the control of one individual, and I soon succeeded in accomplishing this object.
Every thing now proceeded tolerably well, and we were certainly more comfortable than before. But, however reasonable might be the regulations made by the Emperor, they, nevertheless, sowed the seeds of discontent, which took root, and occasionally developed themselves. One thought himself a loser by the change; another sought to attach too high an importance to his office; and a third conceived that he had been wronged in the general division of duties. We were no longer the members of one family, each exerting his best endeavours to secure the advantage of the whole. We were far from putting into practice that which necessity seemed to dictate to us; and a wreck of luxury, or a remnant of ambition, frequently became an object of dispute.
Though attachment to the person of the Emperor had united us around him, yet chance, and not sympathy, had brought us together. Our connexion was purely fortuitous, and not the result of any natural affinity. Thus, at Longwood, we were encircled round a centre, but without any cohesion with each other. How could it be otherwise? We were almost all strangers to one another, and, unfortunately, our different conditions, ages, and characters, were calculated to make us continue so.
These circumstances, though in themselves trifling, had the vexatious effect of depriving us of our most agreeable resources. They banished that confidence, that interchange of sentiment, and that intimate union, which are calculated to soothe even the most cruel misfortunes. But, on the other hand, these very circumstances served to develope many excellent traits in the Emperor’s character. They were apparent in his endeavours to produce among us unity and conformity of sentiment; his constant care to remove every just cause of jealousy; the voluntary abstraction by which he averted his attention from that which he wished not to observe; and finally, the paternal expressions of displeasure, of which we were occasionally the objects, and which (to the honour of all be it said) were avoided as cautiously, and received as respectfully, as though they had emanated from the throne of the Tuileries.
Who in the world can now pretend to know the Emperor in his character of a private man better than myself?—Who else was with him during two months of solitude in the desert of Briars?—Who else accompanied him in his long walks by moonlight, and enjoyed so many hours in his society? Who, like me, had the opportunity of choosing the moment, the place, and the subject of his conversation? Who, besides myself, heard him call to mind the charms of his boyhood, or describe the pleasures of his youth, and the bitterness of his recent sorrow? I am convinced that I know his character thoroughly, and that I can now explain many circumstances which, at the time of their occurrence, seemed to many difficult to be understood. I can now very well comprehend that which struck us so forcibly, and which particularly characterized him in the days of his power; namely, that no individual ever permanently incurred the displeasure of Napoleon: however marked might be his disgrace, however deep the gulf into which he was plunged, he might still confidently hope to be restored to favour. Those who had once enjoyed intimacy, whatever cause of offence they might give him, never totally forfeited his regard. The Emperor is eminently gifted with two excellent qualities;—a vast fund of justice, and a disposition naturally prone to attachment. Amidst all his vexations and fits of anger, a sentiment of justice still predominates. He is sure to turn an attentive ear to sound arguments, and, if left to himself, candidly brings them forward whenever they occur to his mind. He never forgets services performed for him, nor habits he has contracted. Sooner or later he invariably casts a thought on those who may have incurred his displeasure; he reflects on what they have suffered, considers their punishment as sufficient, recals them, when they are perhaps forgotten by the world; and they again enjoy his good graces, to the astonishment of themselves as well as of others. Of this there have been many instances. The Emperor is sincere in his attachments, without making a show of what he feels. When once he becomes used to a person, he cannot easily bear separation. He observes and condemns his faults, blames his own choice, expressing his displeasure in the most unreserved way; but still there is nothing to fear: these are but so many new ties of regard.
It will probably be a matter of surprise that I should sketch the Emperor’s character in so simple a style. All that is usually written about him is so far fetched: it has been thought necessary to employ antitheses and brilliant colouring; to seek for effect, and to rack the imagination for high-flown phrases. For my own part, I merely describe what I see, and express what I feel. This reflection, by the by, comes à propos.