During this period the Emperor’s health has been constantly and considerably declining; his body, which was thought so robust, which had endured so many toils, and withstood so much fatigue, supported by victory and glory, was now bending under the weight of infirmities prematurely brought on by the injustice of men. Almost every day he is attacked by some new indisposition; fever, swelled face, symptoms of scurvy, constant colds; his features are altered, his gait becomes heavy, his legs swelled, &c.... Our hearts were torn in seeing him thus hastening towards infallible destruction; all our cares are in vain.
He had long since given up riding on horseback, and by degrees, also, he almost entirely relinquished his rides in the calash. Even walking became a rare occurrence, and he was thus nearly reduced to a strict seclusion in his apartments. He no longer applied to any regular or continued occupation; he seldom dictated to us, and only upon subjects that were merely the fancy of the moment. He spent the greatest part of the day alone in his room, busied in turning over a few books, or rather doing nothing. Let those who have formed a due estimate of the power of his faculties appreciate the strength of mind required to enable him to bear, with equanimity, the intolerable burden of a life so wearisome and monotonous; for, in our presence, he always exhibited the same serenity of countenance and equality of temper. His mind appeared equally unembarrassed; his conversation offered the same lively turns of expression, and he was sometimes even inclined to mirth and humour; but, in the privacy of intimate intercourse, it was easy to perceive that he no longer thought of the future, meditated on the past, or cared about the present. He merely yielded a passive obedience to the physical laws of Nature, and, thoroughly disgusted with life, he perhaps secretly sighed for the moment which was to put an end to it.
Such was the state of affairs when I was forcibly removed from Longwood; for that period approaches—it is not far distant.
I have not noted down in the course of my Journal every minute circumstance of our quarrels with the Governor, or the numerous official communications that were exchanged between us. I have also omitted to mention all the shameful privations to which we were exposed, in respect to the necessaries and comforts of life. My object has been to show Napoleon’s character in its true light, and not to write the history of Longwood, and the catalogue of its miseries. Those who have any curiosity on that score may seek for details in the work of Mr. O’Meara. It would have argued meanness in me, who was one of the victims, had I dwelt upon them; but for the Doctor, who was only a witness, who was a stranger to us, and in some degree one of the adverse party, he can only, situated as he is, have been actuated in so doing by the impulse of a powerful feeling, and of generous indignation, which does honour to his heart.
I have just heard (1824) that the late governor of St. Helena has brought an action against Mr. O’Meara for defamation and calumny. I have the highest respect for the Judges who preside over the principal courts of justice in England, because I know how they are composed; but how can one, in these days, be certain of the result of such an action? In the unfortunate political effervescence of our times, truth appears, as it were, in two lights at the same time; the true light is, for every individual, that which exists in his own heart; for, after all, it is impossible to impose upon one’s self, and that reflection will, no doubt, be a motive of consolation to Mr. O’Meara, whatever the result may be. And I must here declare that all the facts which I have seen stated in Mr. O’Meara’s work, on the above-mentioned points, and which fell under my knowledge while I was at St. Helena, are strictly true; and thence I naturally conclude, by analogy, that the remainder, which I have not seen, is also true. I, therefore, do not hesitate to say that I consider it as such in my heart and conscience.
Whilst writing this, I have received from Sir Hudson Lowe some extracts of confidential letters which, he informs me, he received at the time from Mr. O’Meara, in which, he observes to me, O’Meara spoke of me in a very improper manner, and made secret reports to him respecting me. What can have been the intention of Sir Hudson Lowe in acting thus with me? Considering the terms on which we are together, he cannot have been prompted by a very tender interest. Did he wish to prove to me that Mr. O’Meara acted as a spy for him upon us? Did he hope so far to prepossess me against him as to influence the nature and the force of my testimony in favour of his adversary? And, after all, are these letters in their original state? have they not been altered after the fashion of St. Helena? But, even supposing their meaning to be true and explicit, in what respect can they offend me? What claim had I then on Mr. O’Meara’s indulgence? what right had I to expect it? It is true that, at a later period, after his return to Europe, seeing him persecuted and punished on account of the humanity of his conduct towards Napoleon, I wrote to him to express my heartfelt gratitude, and to offer him an asylum in my family, should injustice compel him to leave his own country; that he was welcome to share with me. But at St. Helena I hardly knew him, and I do not believe that I spoke to him ten times during my residence at Longwood. I considered him as being opposed to me by nation, by opinions, and by interest: such was the nature of my connexion with Mr. O’Meara. He was, therefore, entirely at liberty with respect to me: he might then write whatever he thought proper, and it cannot now vary the opinion which I have since formed of him. Sir Hudson Lowe intends now to insinuate that Mr. O’Meara was a double and a triple spy at the same moment, viz. for the Government, for Napoleon, and for him, Sir Hudson Lowe; but does that disprove the truth and destroy the authenticity of the facts mentioned in his book? On the contrary. And from which of the three parties could he expect to be rewarded for revealing these facts to the public? Napoleon is no more; he can expect nothing from him: and his publication has rendered the two others his bitter enemies, who have deprived him of his situation, and threaten to disturb his repose; for his real crime, in their eyes, is the warm zeal, which he has displayed, of a friend to the laws and to decorum; who, indignant at the mean and indecorous vexations to which Napoleon had been exposed, drags the true authors of them to light, in order to exculpate his country. I have, therefore, considered this tardy communication of the confidential letters which Sir Hudson Lowe has just transmitted to me, at the moment of his action against O’Meara, as a kind of interested accusation, which every one will qualify as he thinks proper. I have never even acknowledged the receipt of these letters; and still less have I ever thought of complaining of their contents.
NAPOLEON’S VIEWS AND INTENTIONS WITH RESPECT TO
THE RUSSIAN WAR.—OFFICIAL INSTRUCTIONS.
Friday, Oct. 25.—I attended the Emperor at his toilette. The weather was tolerably fine, and he went out, and walked as far as the wood. He was very feeble; for it was now ten days since he had stirred out. He felt a weakness in his knees; and remarked, that he should soon be obliged to lean on me for support.
Passing to other topics, he made many observations on the Russian war. Among other things he said: “That war should have been the most popular of any in modern times. It was a war of good sense and true interests; a war for the repose and security of all; it was purely pacific and preservative; entirely European and continental. Its success would have established a balance of power and would have introduced new combinations, by which the dangers of the present time would have been succeeded by future tranquillity. In this case, ambition had no share in my views. In raising Poland, which was the key-stone of the whole arch, I would have permitted a King of Prussia, an Archduke of Austria, or any other to occupy the throne. I had no wish to obtain any new acquisition; and I reserved for myself only the glory of doing good, and the blessings of posterity. Yet this undertaking failed, and proved my ruin, though I never acted more disinterestedly, and never better merited success. As if popular opinion had been seized with contagion, in a moment, a general outcry, a general sentiment, arose against me. I was proclaimed the destroyer of kings—I, who had created them! I was denounced as the subverter of the rights of nations—I, who was about to risk all to secure them! And people and kings, those irreconcileable enemies, leagued together and conspired against me! All the acts of my past life were now forgotten. I said, truly, that popular favour would return to me with victory; but victory escaped me, and I was ruined. Such is mankind, and such is my history; but both people and kings will have cause to regret me; and my memory will be sufficiently avenged for the injustice committed upon me: that is certain.”
If certain passages in the above conversation of Napoleon should require illustration or proof, these will be found in the following letter. The document is highly valuable on account of its date and contents; for the motives and views of the Russian expedition are here developed by Napoleon at the moment when he was about to embark in the enterprise. The vulgar were certainly far from comprehending or rendering justice to his intentions; I say the vulgar, for it is just to remark that, among statesmen and men of foresight and extended views, the Russian war was very popular. They disapproved of the moment at which it was undertaken; but they fully appreciated all the grand designs of the Emperor.