The announcement of the Emperor’s second marriage was a source of joy to those prudent citizens who looked forward to the future.—A few days after he had formed his determination, Napoleon said to one of his Ministers (the Duke Decrès[Decrès]), in a moment of good humoured familiarity, “Well; it appears that people are very much pleased with my intended marriage.”—“Yes, Sire.”—“I suppose they expect that the lion will slumber.”—“To say the truth, Sire, we are somewhat inclined to form that expectation.”—“Well,” resumed Napoleon, after a few moments’ silence, “it is a mistake: and it is not the fault of the lion either. Slumber would be as sweet to him as to any other. But do not you see that while I am, to all appearance, incessantly attacking, I am, nevertheless, always engaged in self-defence?”
The correctness of this assertion might have been doubted, while the terrible conflict lasted; but the joy and indiscretion of the triumphant party have sufficiently confirmed its truth. Some boasted of having formed the determination of prosecuting the war until they had accomplished the destruction of their enemy: others[[13]] have unblushingly proclaimed that the plot for Napoleon’s overthrow was hatched under the mask of alliance and friendship!
During this and the two succeeding days, my attention was wholly occupied by a contest which concerned me personally, and which has had so much influence on my subsequent destiny, that I cannot pass it over in silence. Ever since my residence at Longwood, I have had, as a servant, a free mulatto, with whom I was very well satisfied; but Sir Hudson Lowe suddenly took it into his head to remove him.
Prompted by the determination of tormenting us, by every means his imagination could suggest, or (as many are inclined to believe,) following up a perfidiously laid plan, he sent the English officer on duty to inform me that he had conceived some doubts as to the propriety of my being attended by a native of the Island; and that he intended to remove my servant and send me one of his own choosing. My answer was brief and positive; “The Governor,” said I, “has it in his power to send away my servant, if he pleases; but he may spare himself the trouble of sending me one of his choosing. I am daily learning better and better how to dispense with the comforts of life. I can, if necessary, wait on myself; this additional privation will be but slightly felt, amidst the sufferings to which we are subjected.”
This circumstance occasioned the interchange of a vast number of messages and notes. Sir Hudson Lowe wrote three or four times every day to the officer on duty directing him to make various communications to me. He observed that he did not understand my scruples, and could not conceive why I should object to any servant he might send me.—One of his selecting was as good as any other—The offer of making the choice himself was merely a mark of attention, &c.
I was distressed to see the poor officer thus mercilessly sent to and fro; and I was also heartily tired of the business myself. I therefore begged that he would spare himself further trouble, by assuring the Governor that to all his communications my reply must invariably be the same; namely, that he might send away my servant if he pleased; but that he must not think of obliging me to receive one of his choosing; that he might place me in garrison by force, but never with my own consent. While this correspondence was going forward, my servant was sent for, interrogated, withdrawn from my service, then sent back again, and at length finally withdrawn.
I rendered an account of the whole affair to the Emperor, who highly applauded my determination of not admitting a spy among us. “But,” said he, in the most engaging manner, “as this sacrifice has been made for the interest of all, it is not proper that you alone should be the sufferer. Send to Gentilini, my valet de pied, and let him wait on you: he will be very happy to earn a few Napoleons in addition to his wages: besides, tell him it is by my desire.” Gentilini, at first, cheerfully undertook the duty; but, in the evening, the poor fellow came to inform me that some one had told him, it was not proper for one of the Emperor’s servants to attend on a private person!... The Emperor had the goodness to send for Gentilini, and to repeat the orders with his own mouth.
Thus the Governor daily persecutes us in every imaginable way. I do not mention all the circumstances of this kind that are continually occurring, not because habit has taught me to accommodate myself to them, but, because the vexations that arise from mere ill-nature are but trifles in comparison with the greater miseries which we have to endure....
If I attempt to portray the horrors of my own situation alone, let it be considered that I am exiled, and probably for ever, to a desert rock, two thousand leagues from home, confined in a small prison, beneath a sky, in a climate, and on a soil, totally different from those of my native country. I am hastening to a premature grave, the only probable conclusion of my misery. Bereft of my wife, children, and friends, who, though they still live, may be said to be no longer in the same world with me; shut out from all communication with mankind, I deplore the recollection of family affections, and the charms of friendship and society.... Certainly, there is no man, whatever be his country or his opinions, but must commiserate my lot.... But, in a moment, I can reverse the picture, and my situation will appear an enviable one!...
Where is the heart that does not beat at the recollection of the achievements of Alexander and Cæsar? Who can approach the relics of Charlemagne without emotion? How happy should we be could we recal the words, the accents, of Henry IV.! Thus, when oppressed by mental dejection, when I feel the necessity of rousing my drooping spirits, while my heart is overflowing with these sensations, and my mind filled with these ideas, I exclaim: I possess all this, and more than this! Here, I am not surrounded by mere illusions and historical recollections; I am in actual contact with the living man who has accomplished so many prodigies. Every day, every moment, I may contemplate the features of him who, with a glance, ordered battles, and decided the fate of empires. I may gaze on the brow that is adorned with the laurels of Rivoli, Marengo, Austerlitz, Wagram, Jena, and Friedland. I may presume to touch the hand that has wielded so many sceptres, and distributed so many crowns; which seized the enemy’s colours at Arcole and Lodi; and which, on a solemn occasion, surrendered into the hands of an afflicted wife the only proofs of her husband’s guilt. I hear the voice of him who, when addressing his troops, in sight of the Egyptian pyramids, said, “My lads, from the summits of those monuments, forty centuries look down upon us!” who, halting and uncovering before a column of wounded Austrian soldiers, exclaimed, “Honour and respect to the unfortunate brave.” I converse, almost familiarly, with the Monarch who ruled Europe; whose pastime was the embellishment of our cities, and the prosperity of our provinces; who raised us to so high a rank in the estimation of nations; and who wafted our glory to the skies!... I see him, I hear him speak, I attend on him, and, perhaps, even help to console him!... Can I then lay claim to pity? On the contrary, will not thousands envy my lot? Who can boast of possessing so many sources of happiness, in circumstances similar to ours?