It was no less certain, that though in this manner Napoleon could obtain by discoursing with others the insulated portions of information which he was desirous of acquiring, and though the knowledge so acquired served his immediate purpose in public life, these were not habits which could induce him to resume those lighter subjects of study so interesting and delightful in youth, but which an advanced age is unwilling to undertake, and slow to profit by. He had, therefore, never corrected his taste in the belles lettres, but retained his admiration for Ossian, and other books which had fascinated his early attention. The declamatory tone, redundancy of expression, and exaggerated character of the poetry ascribed to the Celtic bard, suit the taste of very young persons; but Napoleon continued to retain his relish for them to the end of his life; and, in some of his proclamations and bulletins, we can trace the hyperbolical and bombastic expressions which pass upon us in youth for the sublime, but are rejected as taste and reason become refined and improved. There was indeed this apology for Napoleon's lingering fondness for Ossian, that the Italian translation, by Cesarotti, is said to be one of the most beautiful specimens of the Tuscan language. The work was almost constantly beside him.
Historical, philosophical, or moral works, seem more rarely to have been resorted to for the amusement of Longwood. We have, indeed, been informed, that the only books of this description for which Napoleon showed a decided partiality, were those of Machiavel and Montesquieu, which he did not perhaps consider as fit themes of public recitation; Tacitus, who holds the mirror so close to the features of sovereigns, he is said always to have held in aversion, and seldom to have mentioned without terms of censure or dislike. Thus will the patient sometimes loathe the sight of the most wholesome medicine. The French novels of the day were sometimes tried as a resource; but the habits of order and decency which Napoleon observed, rendered their levities and indelicacies unfitted for such society.
There remained another department of literature, from which the party at Longwood derived frequent resources. The drama occupied a considerable part of those readings with which Napoleon used to while away the tedious hours of his imprisonment. This was an indication that he still retained the national taste of France, where few neglect to attend the spectacle, in one form or another, during the space betwixt dinner and the reunion of society in the evening. Next to seeing his ancient favourite Talma, was to Napoleon the reading some of those chef-d'œuvres to which he had seen and heard him give life and personification. He is himself said to have read with taste and effect, which agrees with the traditions that represent him as having been early attached to theatrical representations.[250] It was in the discussions following these readings, which Las Cases has preserved with so much zeal, that Buonaparte displayed his powers of conversation, and expressed his peculiar habits and opinions.
Corneille[251] and Racine[252] stood much higher in his estimation than Voltaire. There seems a good reason for this. They wrote their immortal works for the meridian of a court, and at the command of the most monarchical of monarchs, Louis XIV. The productions, therefore, contain nothing that can wound the ear of the most sensitive sovereign. In the King of Denmark's phrase, they "have no offence in them."
With Voltaire it is different. The strong and searching spirit, which afterwards caused the French Revolution, was abroad at this time, and though unaware of the extent to which it might lead, the philosopher of Ferney was not the less its proselyte. There were many passages, therefore, in his works, which could not but be instantly applied to the changes and convulsions of the period during which Napoleon had lived, to the despotic character of his government, and to the plans of freedom which had sunk under the influence of his sword. On this account Voltaire, whose compositions recalled painful comparisons and recollections, was no favourite with Napoleon. The Mahomet[253] of that author he particularly disliked, avowing, at the same time, his respect for the Oriental impostor, whom he accused the poet of traducing and misrepresenting. Perhaps he secretly acknowledged a certain degree of resemblance between his own career and that of the youthful camel-driver, who, rising from a mean origin in his native tribe, became at once the conqueror and the legislator of so many nations. Perhaps, too, he remembered his own proclamations while in Egypt, in the assumed character of a Moslem, which he was wont to term by the true phrase of Charlatanerie, but adding, that it was charlatanerie of a high and elevated character.
The character of Cæsar was another which Napoleon always strove to vindicate. The French general could not be indifferent to the Roman leader, who, like himself, having at first risen into notice by his victories over the enemies of the republic, had, also like himself, ended the struggles between the patricians and plebeians of ancient Rome, by reducing both parties equally under his own absolute dominion; who would have proclaimed himself their sovereign, even by the proscribed title of king, had he not been prevented by conspiracy; and who, when he had conquered his country, thought of nothing so much as extending an empire, already much too large, over the distant regions of Scythia and Parthia. The points of personal difference, indeed, were considerable; for neither did Napoleon indulge in the gross debauchery and sensuality imputed to Cæsar, nor can we attribute to him the Roman's powers as an author, or the gentle and forgiving character which distinguished him as a man.
CONDUCT TOWARDS HIS HOUSEHOLD.
Yet, although Napoleon had something vindictive in his temper, which he sometimes indulged when Cæsar would have scorned to do so, his intercourse with his familiar friends was of a character the most amiable. It is true, indeed, that, determined, as he expressed himself to be Emperor within Longwood and its little demesne, he exacted from his followers the same marks of severe etiquette which distinguished the Court of the Tuileries; yet, in other respects, he permitted them to carry their freedom in disputing his sentiments, or replying to his arguments, almost beyond the bounds of ordinary decorum. He seemed to make a distinction between their duty towards him as subjects, and their privileges as friends. All remained uncovered and standing in his presence, and even the person who played at chess with him sometimes continued for hours without sitting down. But their verbal intercourse of language and sentiments was that of free men, conversing with a superior, indeed, but not with a despot. Captain Maitland mentions a dispute betwixt Napoleon and General Bertrand. The latter had adopted a ridiculous idea that £30,000 a-year, or some such extravagant sum, was spent in maintaining the grounds and establishment at Blenheim. Napoleon's turn for calculation easily detected the improbability. Bertrand insisted upon his assertion, on which Buonaparte said with quickness, "Bah! c'est impossible."—"Oh!" said Bertrand, much offended, "if you are to reply in that manner, there is an end of all argument;" and for some time would not converse with him. Buonaparte, so far from taking umbrage, did all he could to soothe him and restore him to good-humour, which was not very difficult to effect.[254]
But although Napoleon tolerated freedoms of this kind to a considerable extent, yet he still kept in his own hands the royal privilege of starting the topic of conversation, and conducting it as he should think proper; so that, in some respects, it seemed that, having lost all the substantial enjoyment of power, he had become more attached than ever to the observance of its monotonous, wearisome, unprofitable ceremonial. Yet there might be a reason for this, besides the gratification of his own pertinacious temper. The gentlemen who inhabited Longwood had followed him from the purest motives, and there was no reason to suppose that their purpose would waver, or their respect diminish. Still their mutual situation compelled the deposed sovereign, and his late subjects, into such close familiarity, as might perhaps beget, if not contempt, at least an inconvenient degree of freedom betwixt the parties, the very possibility of which he might conceive it as well to exclude by a strict barrier of etiquette.
AMUSEMENTS.