Читать книгу The Life, Exile and Conversations with Napoleon - Emmanuel-Auguste-Dieudonné Las Cases - Страница 78

Table of Contents

29th.—There is a spot in the grounds about Longwood, which commands a distant view of that part of the sea where the ships are first seen on their arrival: here, too, is a tree at the foot of which the spectator may survey it at his ease. I had been in the habit, for some days, of spending a few idle moments here, amusing myself, in idea, with looking out for the ship that was to conclude our exile. The celebrated Münich lingered out twenty years in the heart of Siberia, drinking every day to his return to St. Petersburg, and was at length blessed with the accomplishment of his wish. I shall possess his courage; but I trust I shall not have occasion for his patience.

Ships had successively appeared for several days. Three came in sight very early this morning, two of which I judged to be ships of war.—On my return home, I was informed that the Emperor had already risen: I went to the garden to meet him, and to acquaint him with my discovery. He ordered breakfast to be brought to him under a tree, and desired me to keep him company. After breakfast, he directed me to ride out with him on horse-back. We rode along by the side of the gum-trees, beyond the confines of Longwood, and then attempted to descend into a very steep and deeply-furrowed valley, whose sides were covered with sand and loose stones, interspersed with brambles. We were obliged to dismount. The Emperor desired General Gourgaud to turn off to one side with the horses and the two grooms who accompanied us, and insisted on continuing his journey on foot, amidst the difficulties which surrounded us. I gave him my arm, and, with a great deal of trouble, we succeeded in clambering over the ridges. The Emperor lamented the loss of his youthful agility, and accused me of being more active than himself. He thought that there was a greater difference in this respect than the trifling disproportion of our ages would justify. I told him that the pleasure of serving him made me forget my age. As we were going along, he observed that any one who could have seen us at that time would recognize without difficulty the restlessness and impatience of the French character. “In fact,” said he, “none but Frenchmen would ever think of doing what we are now about.” At length we arrived, breathless, at the bottom of the valley. What we had at a distance mistaken for a beaten road, proved to be nothing but a little streamlet, a foot and a half wide. We proposed to step across it and wait for our horses; but the banks of this little streamlet were very treacherous. They appeared to consist of dry ground which at first supported us, but we soon found ourselves suddenly sinking, as though we had been breaking through ice. I had already sunk nearly above my knees, when, by a sudden effort, I disengaged myself, and turned to assist the Emperor, who had both legs in the mud, and had got his hands on the ground, endeavouring to extricate himself. With a great deal of trouble, and a great deal of dirt, we regained the terra firma; and I could not help thinking of the marshes of Arcole, which we had been engaged in describing a few days before, and in which Napoleon was very near being lost. The Emperor looked at his clothes and said, “Las Cases, this is a dirty adventure. If we had been lost in the mud,” added he, “what would have been said in Europe? The canting hypocrites would have proved, beyond a doubt, that we had been swallowed up for our crimes.”

The horses being at length brought to us, we continued our journey, breaking through hedges, and leaping over ridges; and with great difficulty rode up the whole length of the valley, which separates Longwood from Diana’s Peak. We returned by the way of Madame Bertrand’s residence; it was three o’clock when we reached home. We then learned that the vessels which had been seen in the morning were a brig and a transport from England, and an American ship.

The Emperor sent for me about seven o’clock; he was with the Grand Marshal, who was reading to him the newspapers from the 9th to the 16th of October. He had not done reading at nine o’clock. The Emperor, astonished to find it so late, hastily rose and went to the table, complaining of being kept waiting for his dinner. They were stupid enough to give a very ridiculous reason for the delay. This domestic irregularity irritated him very much; and then he was angry with himself for having given vent to his anger; so the dinner passed off in dulness and silence.

However, on returning to the drawing-room, to the dessert, the Emperor began to converse on the news which the papers had brought us: the conditions of peace, the fortresses ceded to foreign powers, and the fermentation of the great cities of Europe. He treated these subjects in a masterly style. He retired early; and had evidently not forgotten the moment preceding dinner.

He soon sent for me, being desirous to continue the perusal of the papers. As I was preparing to read, he recollected the state of my eyes, and would not allow me. I begged to be permitted to continue, telling him that I read quickly, and should soon have finished them; but he took them away from me, saying, “We cannot command nature. I forbid it; I will wait till to-morrow.” He then began to walk about a little, and soon gave utterance to the feelings which had oppressed his spirits. How amiable he appeared in his reproaches and complaints! How humane and kind he seemed! How just and true was every observation that escaped him! These were a few of the precious moments when Nature, taken by surprise, exposes the inmost recesses of the human heart and character. I left him, saying within myself, as I have so often had occasion to say: “Good God, how little has the character of the Emperor been known to the world!”

They are, however, beginning here to form a more just opinion of him. Those Englishmen whose violent prejudices against him were in a great degree excusable from the false accounts they had received, begin now to entertain a more correct idea of his character. They allow that they are strangely undeceived every day, and that the Emperor is a very different being from that Napoleon whose image had been traced to them through the medium of falsehood and political interests. All those who have had opportunities of seeing him and hearing him converse, have but one opinion on the subject. The Admiral has more than once, in the midst of our disputes with him, hastily exclaimed that the Emperor was decidedly the most good-natured, just, and reasonable of the whole set. And he was in the right.

On another occasion, an Englishman, whom we frequently saw, confessed to Napoleon, with the utmost humility of heart, and as it were by way of expiation, that he had to reproach his conscience with having once firmly believed all the abominable falsehoods related of him. He had given credit to all the accounts of stranglings, massacres, and brutal ferocity; in short, he even believed in the deformities of his person, and the hideous features of his countenance. “And how,” said he candidly, “could I help crediting all this? Our English publications were filled with these statements; they were in every mouth; not a single voice was raised to contradict them.”—“Yes,” said Napoleon, smiling, “it is to your Ministers that I am indebted for these favours: they inundated Europe with pamphlets and libels against me. Perhaps they might say, in excuse, that they did but reply to those which they received from France; and it must in justice be confessed that those Frenchmen who have since been seen to exult over the ruins of their country felt no hesitation in furnishing them with such articles in abundant supplies.

“Be this as it may, I was repeatedly urged during the period of my power, to adopt measures for counteracting this underhand work; but I always declined it. What advantage should I have gained by such a defence? It would have been said that I had paid for it, and that would only have discredited me still more. Another victory, another monument,—these, I said, are the best, the only answers I can make. Falsehood passes away, and truth remains! The sensible portion of the present age, and posterity in particular, will form their judgment only from facts. And what has been the consequence? Already the cloud is breaking; the light is piercing through, and my character grows clearer every day. It will soon become the fashion in Europe to do me justice. Those who have succeeded me possess the archives of my administration and police, and the records of my tribunals: they hold in their pay, and at their disposal, those who must have been the perpetrators and the accomplices of my atrocities and crimes; yet what proofs have they brought forward? What have they made known?

“The first moments of fury being passed away, all honest and sensible men will render justice to my character; none but rogues or fools will be my enemies. I may rest at ease; the succession of events, the disputes of opposing parties, their hostile productions, will daily clear the way for the correct and glorious materials of my history. And what advantage has been reaped from the immense sums that have been paid for libels against me? Every trace of them will soon be obliterated; while my institutions and monuments will recommend me to the remotest posterity.

“It is now, moreover, too late to heap abuse upon me. The venom of calumny,” said he, repeating an idea which he had before expressed, “has been exhausted on me; it can no longer injure me; it operates only like poison on Mithridates.”