This seems consonant with what we know of Gourgaud's character: frank, volatile, and sensitive, he could never have long sustained a policy of literary and diplomatic deceit. He was not a compound of Chatterton and Fouché. His "Journal" is the artless outpouring of wounded vanity and brings us close to the heart of the hero-worshipper and his hero. At times the idol falls and is shivered but love places it on the shrine again and again, until the fourth anniversary of Brienne finds the spell broken. Even before he leaves St. Helena the old fascination is upon him once more; and then Napoleon seeks to utilize his devotion for the purpose of a political mission. Gourgaud declines the rôle of agent, pledges his word to the Governor, and keeps it; but, thanks to British officialism or the seductions of the Opposition, hero-worship once more gains the day and enrolls him beside Las Cases and Montholon. This we believe to be the real Gourgaud, a genuine, lovable, but flighty being, as every page of his "Journal" shows.
One cannot but notice in passing the extraordinary richness of St. Helena literature. Nearly all the exiles kept diaries or memoirs, or wrote them when they returned to Europe. And, on the other hand, of all the 10,000 Britons whom Napoleon detained in France for eleven years, not one has left a record that is ever read to-day. Consequently, while the woes of Napoleon have been set forth in every civilized tongue, the world has forgotten the miseries causelessly inflicted on 10,000 English families. The advantages possessed by a memoir-writing nation over one that is but half articulate could not be better illustrated. For the dumb Britons not a single tear is ever shed; whereas the voluble inmates of Longwood used their pens to such effect that half the world still believes them to have been bullied twice a week by Lowe, plied with gifts of poisoned coffee, and nearly eaten up by rats at night. On this last topic we are treated to tales of part of a slave's leg being eaten off while he slept at Longwood—nay, of a horse's leg also being gnawed away at night—so that our feelings are divided between pity for the sufferers and envy at the soundness of their slumbers.
Longwood was certainly far from being a suitable abode; but a word from Napoleon would have led to the erection of the new house on a site that he chose to indicate. The materials had all been brought from England; but the word was not spoken until a much later time; and the inference is inevitable that he preferred to remain where he was so that he could represent himself as lodged in cette grange insalubre.[582] The third of the Longwood household to depart was the surgeon, O'Meara. The conduct of this British officer in facilitating Napoleon's secret correspondence has been so fully exposed by Forsyth and Seaton that we may refer our readers to their works for proofs of his treachery. Gourgaud's "Journal" reveals the secret influence that seduced him. Chancing once to refer to the power of money over Englishmen, Napoleon remarked that that was why we did not want him to draw sums from Europe, and continued: "Le docteur n'est si bien pour moi que depuis que je lui donne mon argent. Ah! j'en suis bien sûr, de celui-là!"[583] This disclosure enables us to understand why the surgeon, after being found out and dismissed from the service, sought to blacken the character of Sir Hudson Lowe by every conceivable device. The wonder is that he succeeded in imposing his version of facts on a whole generation.
The next physician who resided at Longwood, Dr. Stokoe, was speedily cajoled into disobeying the British regulations and underwent official disgrace. An attempt was then made, through Montholon, to bribe his successor, Dr. Verling, who indignantly repelled it and withdrew from his duty.[584]
There can be no doubt that Napoleon found pleasure in these intrigues. In his last interview with Stürmer, the Austrian Commissioner at St. Helena, Gourgaud said, in reference to this topic: "However unhappy he [Napoleon] is here, he secretly enjoys the importance attached to his custody, the interest that the Powers take in it, and the care taken to collect his least words." Napoleon also once remarked to Gourgaud that it was better to be at St. Helena than as he was at Elba.[585] Of the same general tenour are his striking remarks, reported by Las Cases at the close of his first volume:
"Our situation here may even have its attractions. The universe is looking at us. We remain the martyrs of an immortal cause: millions of men weep for us, the fatherland sighs, and Glory is in mourning. We struggle here against the oppression of the gods, and the longings of the nations are for us…. Adversity was wanting to my career. If I had died on the throne amidst the clouds of my omnipotence, I should have remained a problem for many men: to-day, thanks to misfortune, they can judge of me naked as I am."
In terseness of phrase, vividness of fancy, and keenness of insight into the motives that sway mankind, this passage is worthy of Napoleon. He knew that his exile at St. Helena would dull the memory of the wrongs which he had done to the cause of liberty, and that from that lonely peak would go forth the legend of the new Prometheus chained to the rock by the kings and torn every day by the ravening vulture. The world had rejected his gospel of force; but would it not thrill responsive to the gospel of pity now to be enlisted in his behalf? His surmise was amazingly true. The world was thrilled. The story worked wonders, not directly for him, but for his fame and his dynasty. The fortunes of his race began to revive from the time when the popular imagination transfigured Napoleon the Conqueror into Napoleon the Martyr. Viewed in this light, and thrown up into telling relief against the sinister policy of the Holy Alliance of the monarchs, the dreary years spent at St. Helena were not the least successful of his career. Without them there could have been no second Napoleonic Empire.
Not that his life there was a "long-drawn agony." His health was fairly good. There were seasons of something like enjoyment, when he gave himself up to outdoor recreations. Such a time was the latter part of 1819 and the first half of 1820: we may call it the Indian summer of his life, for he was then possessed with a passion for gardening. Lightly clad and protected by a broad-brimmed hat, he went about, sometimes spade in hand, superintending various changes in the grounds at Longwood and around the new house which was being erected for him hard by. Or at other times he used the opportunity afforded by the excavations to show how infantry might be so disposed on a hastily raised slope as to bring a terrific fire to bear on attacking cavalry. Marshalling his followers at dawn by the sound of a bell, he made them all, counts, valets, and servants, dig trenches as if for the front ranks, and throw up the earth for the rear ranks: then, taking his stand in front, as the shortest man, and placing the tallest at the rear (his Swiss valet, Noverraz), he triumphantly showed how the horsemen might be laid low by the rolling volleys of ten ranks.[586] In May or June he took once more to horse exercise, and for a time his health benefited from all this activity. His relations with the Governor were peaceful, if not cordial, and the limits were about this time extended.
Indoors there were recreations other than work at the Memoirs. He often played chess and billiards, at the latter using his hand instead of the cue! Dinner was generally at a very late hour, and afterwards he took pleasure in reading aloud. Voltaire was the favourite author, and Montholon afterwards confessed to Lord Holland that the same plays, especially "Zaïre," were read rather too often.
"Napoleon slept himself when read to, but he was very observant and jealous if others slept while he read. He watched his audience vigilantly, and 'Mme. Montholon, vous dormez' was a frequent ejaculation in the course of reading. He was animated with all that he read, especially poetry, enthusiastic at beautiful passages, impatient of faults, and full of ingenious and lively remarks on style."[587]