abode, whatever inconvenience his new residence might present. On going to pass the remainder of the evening with our host, the Emperor directed me to present him a box bearing his cypher, and to tell him he was sorry for all the trouble he had occasioned to him.
ON THE NOUVELLE HÉLOÏSE, AND ON LOVE.
7th.—The Emperor summoned me to attend him at an early hour. He began to read the Nouvelle Héloïse, frequently remarking on the ingenuity and force of the arguments, the elegance of the style and expressions: he read for upwards of two hours. This reading made a powerful impression on me; it produced a deep melancholy—a mingled feeling of tenderness and sorrow. I had always been fond of the work; and it now awakened happy recollections, and excited deep regret: the Emperor frequently smiled at me. During breakfast the Nouvelle Héloïse was the topic of conversation.
“Jean-Jacques has overcharged his subject,” said the Emperor; “he has painted madness: love should be a source of pleasure, not of misery.” I alleged that Jean-Jacques had described nothing which a man might not feel, and that even the misery to which the Emperor alluded was, in reality, happiness.—“I see,” said he, “you have a little touch of the romantic: has Love’s misery rendered you happy?”—“I do not complain of my fate, Sire,” replied I; “were I to begin life again, I should wish to retrace the course I have already pursued.”
The Emperor resumed his reading after breakfast; but he paused occasionally: the enchantment seemed to seize him in his turn. He at length laid down the book, and we went out to the garden. “Really,” said he, as we walked along, “this work is not without fire; it moves, it rouses the feelings.” We discussed the subject deeply; we were very prolix in our remarks, and we at length agreed that perfect love is like ideal happiness; that both are equally airy, fugitive, mysterious, and inexplicable; and that, finally, love is the business of the idle man, the recreation of the warrior, and the ruin of the sovereign.
We were joined by the Grand Marshal and M. Gourgaud, who had just come from Longwood. The admiral had for some days past been urgent for our removal thither; and the Emperor was not less anxious to go, the accommodation at Briars being so very bad. However, before he removed, it was necessary that the smell of the paint should be entirely gone, for, owing to his peculiar organization, he could not possibly endure it. In the Imperial palaces, care had been taken never to expose him to it. In his different journeys, the slightest smell of paint frequently rendered it necessary to change the apartments that had been prepared for him; and on board of the Northumberland the paint of the ship had made him very ill. He had been informed on the preceding evening that all was ready at Longwood, and that the disagreeable effect of the paint was entirely gone. He accordingly determined to remove on the Saturday following, as he would thus be rid of the annoyance of the workmen on Sunday; but the Grand Marshal and M. Gourgaud now came to say that they had visited the place, and that it was not habitable. The Emperor expressed much vexation at the first account he had received, and the resolution which it had led him to adopt. The two gentlemen withdrew, and we entered the lower walk. The Emperor was much out of humour. M. de Montholon now arrived, very mal-a-propos, from Longwood, declaring that all was ready, and that the Emperor might remove as soon as he wished. These two accounts, so contradictory and so close upon each other, strongly excited his displeasure. Fortunately, dinner was announced, which diverted his attention from the subject. The cloth was laid in the Emperor’s chamber; for he had so severe a cold that he could not endure the tent. After dinner he resumed his reading; and ended the day, as he had begun it, with the Nouvelle Héloïse.
THE ENGLISH LIEUTENANT.—A SINGULAR CIRCUMSTANCE.—DEPARTURE FOR LONGWOOD DETERMINED ON.—STATE OF FRANCE.—MEMORIAL IN JUSTIFICATION OF NEY.
8th—9th. Owing to the doubt which had yesterday arisen respecting the paint, I determined to go myself to ascertain the real state of the case, and to acquaint the Emperor with it at breakfast-time. I accordingly set out very early, walking three parts of the way, because nobody was up who could get ready a horse for me. I returned before nine o’clock. The smell of the paint was certainly very slight; but it was too much for the Emperor.
On the 9th the Captain of the Minden of 74, was introduced to the Emperor in the garden. The captain had arrived from the Cape of Good Hope, and was on the eve of sailing for Europe. He had had the honour of being presented to Napoleon at Paris, under the Consulate, about twelve years before. He requested permission to introduce one of his Lieutenants to the Emperor, on account of some personal circumstances, which we thought very singular. The young man was born at Bologna, precisely at the period when the French army entered that city. The French General, Napoleon, had by some accident been present at the christening of the child, to whom he gave a tri-coloured cockade, which has since been carefully preserved in the family.
After the departure of these gentlemen, the Grand Marshal arrived from Longwood. He thought the paint by no means offensive; the Emperor’s present accommodation was very bad, and a portion of his property had already been removed; he therefore resolved to proceed to Longwood on the following day, of which I was heartily glad. I had for some days past had an opportunity of observing that a determination had been adopted to compel the Emperor to quit his present abode. I had kept to myself all the communications, public or private, that had been made to me on the subject. I made it a rule to spare him every cause of vexation that I possibly could, and merely contented myself with acting in the way that I thought most advisable. Two days before, an officer was sent to carry away the tent, though we had expressed no wish to that effect. The officer had also been directed to remove the outside shutters from the Emperor’s windows; but this I opposed, telling him it could not be done, as the Emperor had not yet risen, and I sent him away. On another occasion, with the view of alarming me, I was told as a great secret that if the Emperor did not immediately remove, it was intended to station a hundred soldiers at the gates of the enclosure. “Very well,” I replied, and took no further notice. What could be the occasion of all this hurry? I suspect that the caprice of our jailors, and the desire of pushing their authority to the utmost, had more concern in the business than any thing else.
We received newspapers down to the 15th of September; and they became the subject of conversation. The Emperor analyzed them. The future appeared enveloped in clouds. “However,” said the Emperor, “three great events present themselves to the imagination;—the division of France, the reign of the Bourbons, or a new dynasty. Louis XVIII.,” observed he, “might easily have reigned in 1814, by rendering himself a national monarch. Now he has only the odious and uncertain chance arising out of excessive severity—a reign of terror. His dynasty may be permanently established, or that which is to succeed him may still be in the secret of futurity.” Some one present observed, “that the Duke of Orleans might be called to the throne;” but the Emperor, by a string of very forcible and eloquent reasoning, proved that, unless the Duke of Orleans came to wear the crown in his turn by the natural order of succession, it was the well-understood interest of all the sovereigns of Europe to prefer him (Napoleon) to the Duke of Orleans, coming to the throne by a crime. “For,” said he, “what is the doctrine of Kings against the events of the present day? Is it to prevent a renewal of the example which I furnished, against what they call legitimacy? Now the example which I have set cannot be renewed above once in the course of many ages; but that of the Duke of Orleans, the near relative of the monarch on the throne, may be renewed daily, hourly, and in every country. There is no sovereign, who has not, in his own palace, and about his person, cousins, nephews, brothers, and other relations, who could easily follow such an example if it were once given.”
We read, in the same papers, an abstract of the memorial, in justification of Marshal Ney.—The Emperor thought it most pitiable. It was not calculated to save his life, and by no means to maintain his honour. The arguments in his defence were, to say the least of them, feeble and destitute of point. After all he had done, he st¡ll protested his devotedness
