of Europe could have shewn accumulated in an equal degree, on the chief and founder of his dynasty. Nevertheless his Majesty, who intended, had he landed in England, to assume the name and title of Colonel Duroc or Muiron, no longer thought of it now that his legitimate titles were obstinately disputed.
DESCRIPTION OF THE EMPEROR’S CABIN ON BOARD THE NORTHUMBERLAND.
8th-9th. The ship was in the greatest confusion, and seemed to be quite encumbered with men as well as stores and luggage: we sailed in so great a hurry that there was scarcely any thing on board in its place, so that the whole crew was now occupied in restoring order, and preparing for the voyage.
The following particulars will afford some idea of that part of the ship occupied by the Emperor and his suite. The space abaft the mizen-mast contained two public and two private cabins; the first was a dining-room about ten feet broad, and extending the whole width of the ship, lighted by a port-hole at each end, and a sky-light above. The drawing-room was composed of all the remaining space, diminished by two symmetrical cabins on the right and left, each having an entry from the dining or mess-room, and another from the drawing-room. The Emperor occupied that on the left, in which his camp bed-stead had been put up; that on the right was appropriated to the Admiral. It was, above all, peremptorily enjoined that the drawing-room should be in common, and not given up to the Emperor: to such a ridiculous extent had the fears and solicitude of the Ministry been carried!
The form of the dining-table resembled that of the mess-room. The Emperor sat with his back to the drawing-room or after-cabin, and looking towards the head of the ship; on his left sat Madame Bertrand, and on his right, the Admiral. On the right of the Admiral sat Madame de Montholon: these filled one side of the table. At the end next that lady was Captain Ross, who commanded the ship; opposite to whom, at the corresponding end, sat M. de Montholon, by Madame Bertrand; next to him, the Admiral’s secretary. The remaining space was the side of the table opposite to the Emperor, which, beginning from Captain Ross, was occupied by the Grand Marshal, the General commanding the 53rd regiment, myself, and Baron Gourgaud.
The Admiral invited one or two of the officers every day, who were intermixed amongst us at table. I generally sat almost opposite to the Emperor. The band of the 53d, which had been recently formed, exercised during dinner at the expense of our ears. We had two courses, but there was a want of provisions; our tastes were, besides, very different from those of our hosts. It is true, they did their utmost; but after all, it would not do to be difficult. I was lodged with my son on the starboard side, even with the main-mast, in a small cabin enclosed with canvass, and having a gun in it. We made as much sail as the wind would permit to get out of the Channel, and stood along the coast of England, communicating with all the ports in order to procure additional supplies of sea-stock, and complete the stores of the ship. A large quantity of articles was brought to us from Plymouth, off which port we were joined by several other vessels, as well as from Falmouth.
LOST SIGHT OF LAND.—REFLECTIONS.—ARGUMENT AGAINST THE ENGLISH MINISTERS.
10.—This day we cleared the Channel, and lost sight of land. We had now entered upon the dreary unknown course to which fate had doomed us. Again my agonies were renewed; again the dear connexions I had abandoned resumed their influence over my heart. I indulged in the luxuriance of grief, and found a miserable satisfaction in its excess. “Objects of all my affections,” I exclaimed, “friends of my heart, for whom alone I live, reflect that I am proving myself worthy of you. Let that thought support you also; and, oh! forget me not.”
Meanwhile we advanced in our course, and were soon to be out of Europe. Thus, in less than six weeks, had the Emperor abdicated his throne, and placed himself in the hands of the English, who were now hurrying him to a barren rock in the midst of a vast ocean! This is certainly no ordinary instance of the chances of fortune, and no common trial of the firmness of the mind. Yet will posterity be better able to judge of these three leading circumstances than we of the present day. They will have to pronounce on a clear horizon; whereas we are enveloped in clouds.
Scarcely had Napoleon descended from his throne, when those who witnessed the misfortunes of the nation, which followed, regarded his sacrifice as a capital error. When they heard of his being a prisoner at Plymouth, they censured his magnanimity; there was not a single incident, even to his suffering himself to be sent to St. Helena, which they did not make a subject of reproach. But such is the tendency of vulgar minds: never judging except on what they see at the moment! It is, however, impossible to judge of one resolution without considering, not only the evils which unavoidably attend it, but those which a contrary determination might have produced.
By abdicating, Napoleon rallied all the friends of their country round one point—that of its safety! He left France demanding, before all nations, nothing but the sacred rights of national independence; he took from the Allies every pretext to ravage and dismember our territory; he destroyed all idea of his personal ambition; terminating his career as the martyr of a cause of which he had been the hero. If all the advantages which might have been derived from his genius and talents as a citizen were not obtained, it is to be imputed to the weakness and treachery of the transitory Government by which he was succeeded. When he arrived at Rochefort, and the commander of the frigates refused to sail, ought he to have abandoned the fruits of his abdication? Should he have returned to the interior, and placed himself at the head of mere bands, when he had renounced armies? or, ought he to have desperately encouraged a civil war which would lead to no beneficial result, but only serve to ruin the remaining pillars, the future hopes, of the country? In this state of affairs, he formed a most magnanimous resolution, worthy of his life, and a complete refutation of the calumnies that for twenty years had been so ridiculously accumulated on his head. But what will history say of those Ministers of a liberal nation, the guardians and depositaries of popular rights—ever ardent in encouraging a Coriolanus, having only chains for a Camillus?
As to the reproach of suffering himself to be transported to St. Helena, it would be a disgrace to answer such a charge. To contend with an adversary in the cabin of a ship—kill some one with his own hand—or attempt to set fire to the powder-magazine, would have been, at best, the act of a Buccaneer. Dignity in misfortune, submission to necessity, have also their glory: it is that which becomes great men overwhelmed by adversity.
When the English Ministers found themselves in possession of Napoleon’s person, passion had much more influence over them than justice or policy. They neglected the triumph of their laws, denied the rights of hospitality, disregarded their own honour, and compromised that of their country. They determined to exile their guest in the midst of the ocean, to keep him prisoner on a rock, two thousand leagues from Europe, and far from all communion with mankind. It seemed that they wished to trust to the anguish of exile, the fatigues of a long voyage, privations of every kind, and the corroding influence of a burning climate, for effecting that which they feared to perform themselves. In order, however, to gain over the public voice, to make it appear that their conduct was indispensably necessary, the newspapers were instigated to irritate the passions of the multitude, by reviving former calumnies and falsehoods; while the Ministers, on their side, represented their own determination as an engagement entered into with their allies. We presented ourselves at the moment of popular effervescence, just as every thing which could render us odious had been brought forward. The public journals were full of the most virulent declamations; maliciously raking up every act and expression of the previous struggle of twenty years that could wound the national pride, or rekindle its hatred. Yet, when all England hurried to the south to see us, during our stay at Plymouth, the conduct and sentiments of the multitudes who came were enough to convince us that this factitious irritation would disappear of itself.
