Вальтер Скотт
Life of Napoleon Bonaparte. Volume V
It would be, indeed, easy for us, standing aloof and remote from these agitating struggles, to pass a sweeping condemnation on the one party or the other, or perhaps upon each of them; and to show that reason and temper on either side would have led to a very different course of proceeding on both, had it been permitted by those human infirmities to which, unhappily, those who have power or pretensions are more liable than the common class, who never possessed the one, and make no claim to the other.
Neither would it be difficult for us to conceive a governor of St. Helena, in the abstract, who, treating the reviling and reproaches with which he was on all occasions loaded by Buonaparte, as the idle chidings of a storm, which must howl around whatever it meets in its course, would, with patience and equanimity, have suffered the tempest to expend its rage, and die away in weakness, the sooner that it found itself unresisted. We can conceive such a person wrapping himself up in his own virtue, and, while he discharged to his country the duty she had intrusted to him, striving, at the same time, by such acts of indulgence as might be the more gratifying because the less expected, or perhaps merited, to melt down the sullenness which the hardship of his situation naturally imposed on the prisoner. We can even conceive that a man of such rare temper might have found means, in some happy moment, of re-establishing a tolerable and ostensible good understanding, if not a heartfelt cordiality, which, could it have existed, would so much have lessened the vexations and troubles, both of the captive and of the governor. All this is very easily conceived. But in order to form the idea of such a man, we must suppose him, in the case in question, stoically impassive to insults of the grossest kind, insults poured on him before he had done any thing which could deserve them, and expressed in a manner which plainly intimated the determination of Napoleon to place himself at once on the most hostile terms with him. This must have required the most uncommon share of calmness and candour. It is more natural that such a functionary as the governor of St. Helena – feeling the impulse of ill usage from a quarter where no regular satisfaction could be had – if he did not use the power which he held for the time, to the actual annoyance and vexation of the party by whom he had been deliberately insulted, should be apt at least to become indifferent how much, or how little, his prisoner was affected by the measures which he adopted, and to go forward with the necessary means of confining the person, without being so solicitous as he might otherwise have been, to spare the feelings. An officer, termed to his face a liar, a brigand, an assassin, a robber, a hangman, has few terms to keep with him by whom he has been loaded with such unworthy epithets; and who, in using them, may be considered as having declared mortal war, and disclaimed the courtesy, while he defied the power, of the person to whom he addressed them.
In the same manner, judging with the coolness of a third party, we should be inclined to say, that the immediate attendants and followers of Napoleon might have here served their master more effectually, by endeavouring to accommodate the subjects of dispute with Sir Hudson Lowe, than by aggravating and carrying them still farther by their own subordinate discussions with the governor and his aides-de-camp, and thus heating their master's passions by their own. But while that was the line of conduct to be desired, it is impossible to deny that another was more naturally to be expected. Generals Bertrand, Montholon, and Gourgaud, were all soldiers of high reputation, who rising to fame under Napoleon's eye, had seen their own laurels flourish along with his. In the hour of adversity, they had most laudably and honourably followed him, and were now sharing with him the years of solitude and exile. It was not, therefore, to be wondered at, that they, wearied of their own restrained and solitary condition, enraged, too, at every thing which appeared to add to the calamitous condition of their fallen master, should be more disposed to increase the angry spirit which manifested itself on both sides, than, by interposing their mediation, to endeavour to compose jars which might well render Napoleon's state more irritable and uncomfortable, but could not, in any point of view, tend to his comfort, peace, or even respectability.
But perhaps we might have been best entitled to hope, from the high part which Napoleon had played in the world, from the extent of his genius, and the natural pride arising from the consciousness of talent, some indifference towards objects of mere form and ceremony, some confidence in the genuine character of his own natural elevation, and a noble contempt of the change which fortune could make on circumstances around him. We might have hoped that one whose mental superiority over the rest of his species was so undeniable, would have been the last to seek with eagerness to retain the frippery and feathers of which the wind of adverse fortune had stripped him, or to be tenacious of that etiquette, which now, if yielded to him at all, could only have been given by compassion. We might have thought the conqueror in so many bloody conflicts, would, even upon provocation, have thought it beneath him to enter on a war of words with the governor of an islet in the Atlantic, where foul language could be the only weapon on either side, and held it a yet greater derogation, so far to lay aside his high character, as to be the first to engage in so ignoble a conflict. It might, we should have supposed, have been anticipated by such a person, not only that calm and patient endurance of inevitable misfortunes is the noblest means of surmounting them, but that, even with a view to his liberty, such conduct would have been most advisable, because most politic. The people of Europe, and especially of Britain, would have been much sooner apt to unite in the wish to see him removed from confinement, had he borne himself with philosophical calmness, than seeing him, as they did, still evincing within his narrow sphere the restless and intriguing temper which had so long disturbed the world, and which now showed itself so engrained in his constitution, as to lead him on to the unworthy species of warfare which we have just described. But the loftiest and proudest beings of mere humanity are like the image which the Assyrian monarch beheld in his dream – blended of various metals, uniting that which is vile with those which are most precious; that which is frail, weak, and unsubstantial, with what is most perdurable and strong. Napoleon, like many an emperor and hero before him, sunk under his own passions after having vanquished nations; and became, in his exile, the prey of petty spleen, which racked him almost to frenzy, and induced him to hazard his health, or perhaps even to throw away his life, rather than submit with dignified patience to that which his misfortunes had rendered unavoidable.
CHAPTER XCVI
Napoleon's Domestic Habits – Manner in which he spent the day – his Dress – Nature of the Fragments of Memoirs he dictated to Gourgaud and Montholon – His admiration of Ossian – He prefers Racine and Corneille to Voltaire – Dislike of Tacitus – His Vindication of the Character of Cæsar – His Behaviour towards the Persons of his Household – Amusements and Exercises – His Character of Sir Pulteney Malcolm – Degree of his Intercourse with the Islanders, and with Visitors to the Island – Interview with Captain Basil Hall – with Lord Amherst and the Gentlemen attached to the Chinese Embassy.
DOMESTIC HABITS
The unpleasant and discreditable disputes, of which we have given some account in the last chapter, form, unhappily, the most marked events of Napoleon's latter life. For the five years and seven months that he remained in the island of St. Helena, few circumstances occurred to vary the melancholy tenor of his existence, excepting those which affected his temper or his health. Of the general causes influencing the former, we have given some account; the latter we shall hereafter allude to. Our present object is a short and general view of his personal and domestic habits while in this melancholy and secluded habitation.
Napoleon's life, until his health began to give way, was of the most regular and monotonous character. Having become a very indifferent sleeper, perhaps from his custom of assigning, during the active part of his life, no precise time for repose, his hours of rising were uncertain, depending upon the rest which he had enjoyed during the earlier part of the night. It followed from this irregularity, that during the day time he occasionally fell asleep, for a few minutes, upon his couch or arm-chair. At times, his favourite valet-de-chambre, Marchand, read to him while in bed until he was composed to rest, the best remedy, perhaps, for that course of "thick-coming fancies," which must so oft have disturbed the repose of one in circumstances so singular and so melancholy. So soon as Napoleon arose from bed, he either began to dictate to one of his generals, (Montholon or Gourgaud generally,) and placed upon record such passages of his remarkable life as he desired to preserve; or, if the weather and his inclination suited, he went out for an hour or two on horseback. He sometimes breakfasted in his own apartment, sometimes with his suite, generally about ten o'clock, and almost always à la fourchette. The fore part of the day he usually devoted to reading, or dictating to one or other of his suite, and about two or three o'clock received such visitors as had permission to wait upon him. An airing in the carriage or on horseback generally succeeded to this species of levee, on which occasions he was attended by all his suite. Their horses, supplied from the Cape of Good Hope, were of a good race and handsome appearance. On returning from his airings, he again resumed the book, or caused his amanuensis take up the pen until dinner-time, which was about eight o'clock at night. He preferred plain food, and eat plentifully, and with an apparent appetite. A very few glasses of claret, scarce amounting to an English pint in all, and chiefly drank during the time of dinner, completed his meal. Sometimes he drank champagne; but his constitutional sobriety was such, that a large glass of that more generous wine immediately brought a degree of colour to his cheek. No man appears to have been in a less degree than Napoleon, subject to the influence of those appetites which man has in common with the lower range of nature. He never took more than two meals a day, and concluded each with a small cup of coffee. After dinner, chess, cards, a volume of light literature, read aloud for the benefit of his suite, or general conversation, in which the ladies of his suite occasionally joined, served to consume the evening till ten or eleven, about which time he retired to his apartment, and went immediately to bed.
We may add to this brief account of Napoleon's domestic habits, that he was very attentive to the duties of the toilet. He usually appeared in the morning in a white night-gown, with loose trousers and stockings joined in one, a chequered red Madras handkerchief round his head, and his shirt-collar open. When dressed, he wore a green uniform, very plainly made, and without ornament, similar to that which, by its simplicity, used to mark the sovereign among the splendid dresses of the Tuileries, white waistcoat, and white or nankeen breeches, with silk stockings, and shoes with gold buckles, a black stock, a triangular cocked hat, of the kind to be seen in all the caricatures, with a very small tri-coloured cockade. He usually wore, when in full dress, the riband and grand cross of the Legion of Honour.248
HIS MEMOIRS
Such were the personal habits of Napoleon, on which there is little for the imagination to dwell, after it has once received the general idea. The circumstance of the large portion of his time employed in dictation, alone interests our curiosity, and makes us anxious to know with what he could have found means to occupy so many pages, and so many hours. The fragments upon military subjects, dictated from time to time to Generals Gourgaud and Montholon, are not voluminous enough to account for the leisure expended in this manner; and even when we add to them the number of pamphlets and works issuing from St. Helena, we shall still find room to suppose either that manuscripts remain which have not yet seen the light, or that Napoleon was a slow composer, and fastidious in the choice of his language. The last conjecture seems most probable, as the French are particularly scrupulous in the punctilios of composition, and Napoleon, emperor as he had been, must have known that he would receive no mercy from the critics upon that particular.
The avowed works themselves, fragments as they are, are extremely interesting in a military point of view; and those in which the campaigns of Italy are described, contain many most invaluable lessons on the art of war. Their political value is by no means so considerable. Gourgaud seems to have formed a true estimation of them, when, in answer to Baron Sturmer's inquiries, whether Napoleon was writing his history, he expressed himself thus: – "He writes disjointed fragments, which he will never finish. When asked why he will not put history in possession of the exact fact, he answers, it is better to leave something to be guessed at than to tell too much. It would also seem, that not considering his extraordinary destinies as entirely accomplished, he is unwilling to detail plans which have not been executed, and which he may one day resume with more success." To these reasons for leaving blanks and imperfections in his proposed history, should be added the danger which a faithful and unreserved narrative must have entailed upon many of the actors in the scenes from which he was lifting the veil. It is no doubt true, that Napoleon seems systematically to have painted his enemies, more especially such as had been once his adherents, in the most odious colours, and particularly in such as seemed likely to render them most obnoxious to the ruling powers; but the same principle induced him to spare his friends, and to afford no handle against them for their past efforts in his favour, and no motive for taking from them the power of rendering him farther service, if they should be in a capacity to do so.
These considerations operated as a check upon the pen of the historian; and it may be truly said, that no man who has written so much of his own life, and that consisting of such singular and important events, has told so little of himself which was not known before from other sources. But the present is not the less valuable; for there is sometimes as much information derived from the silence as from the assertions of him who aspires to be his own biographer; and an apology for, or vindication of, the course of a remarkable life, however partially written, perhaps conveys the most information to the reader, next to that candid confession of faults and errors, which is so very seldom to be obtained in autobiography.
Napoleon's Memoirs, together with the labour apparently bestowed upon his controversial pamphlets written against Sir Hudson Lowe, seem to have furnished the most important part of his occupation whilst at St. Helena, and probably also of his amusement. It was not to be expected that in sickness and calamity he could apply himself to study, even if his youth had furnished him with more stores to work upon. It must be remembered that his whole education had been received at the military school of Brienne, where indeed he displayed a strong taste for the sciences. But the studies of mathematics and algebra were so early connected and carried on with a view to the military purposes in which he employed them, that it may be questioned whether he retained any relish for prosecuting his scientific pursuits in the character of an inquirer into abstract truths. The practical results had been so long his motive, so long his object, that he ceased to enjoy the use of the theoretical means, when there was no siege to be formed, no complicated manœuvres to be arranged, no great military purpose to be gained by the display of his skill – but when all was to begin and end with the discussion of a problem.
That Napoleon had a natural turn for belles lettres is unquestionable; but his leisure never permitted him to cultivate it, or to refine his taste or judgment on such subjects. The recommendation which, in 1784, described him as fit to be sent to the Military School at Paris, observes, that he is tolerably acquainted with history and geography, but rather deficient in the ornamented branches, and in the Latin language.249 At seventeen years of age, he joined the regiment of La Fère, and thus ended all the opportunities afforded him of regular education. He read, however, very extensively; but, like all young persons, with little discrimination, and more to amuse himself than for the purpose of instruction. Before he had arrived at that more advanced period when youths of such talent as his, and especially when gifted with such a powerful memory, usually think of arranging and classifying the information which they have collected during their earlier course of miscellaneous reading, the tumults of Corsica, and subsequently the siege of Toulon, carried him into those scenes of war and business which were his element during the rest of his life, and down to the period we now speak of.
The want of information which we have noticed, he supplied, as most able men do, by the assistance derived from conversing with persons possessing knowledge, and capable of communicating it. No one was ever more dexterous than Napoleon at extracting from individuals the kind of information which each was best qualified to impart; and in many cases, while in the act of doing so, he contrived to conceal his own ignorance, even of that which he was anxiously wishing to know. But although in this manner he might acquire facts and results, it was impossible to make himself master, on such easy terms, of general principles, and the connexion betwixt them and the conclusions which they lead to.
OSSIAN
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.
Corneille251 and Racine252 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 Mahomet253 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
We return to Napoleon's habits of amusement. Music was not one of the number. Though born an Italian, and possessing something of a musical ear, so far, at least, as was necessary to enable him to hum a song, it was probably entirely without cultivation.255 He appears to have had none of the fanaticism for music which characterises the Italians; and it is well known that in Italy he put a stop to the cruel methods which had been used in that country to complete their concerts.
Neither was Napoleon, as we have heard Denon reluctantly admit, a judge or an admirer of painting. He had some pretence to understand sculpture; and there was one painting in the Museum, before which he used to pause, terming it his own; nor would he permit it to be ransomed for a very large sum by its proprietor the Duke of Modena.256 But he valued it, not on account of its merits, though a masterpiece of art, but because he had himself been the means of securing it to the Museum at a great sacrifice. The other paintings in that immense collection, however great their excellence, he seldom paid much attention to. He also shocked admirers of painting by the contempt he showed for the durability of the art. Being informed that a first-rate picture would not last above five or six hundred years, he exclaimed, "Bah! a fine immortality!" Yet by using Denon's advice, and that of other sçavans, Napoleon sustained a high reputation as an encourager of the arts. His medals have been particularly and deservedly admired.
In respect of personal exercise at St. Helena, he walked occasionally, and while strong, did not shun steep, rough, and dangerous paths. But although there is some game on the island, he did not avail himself of the pleasure of shooting. It does not indeed appear that he was ever much attached to field sports, although, when Emperor, he replaced the hunting establishment upon a scale still more magnificent, as well as better regulated, than formerly. It is supposed he partook of this princely pastime, as it has been called, rather out of a love of magnificent display than any real attachment to the sport. We may here mention, in his own words, the danger in which he was once placed at a boar hunt. The picture will remind the amateur of the pieces of Rubens and Schneider.
"Upon one occasion at Marli," said the Emperor, "at a boar-hunt, I kept my ground with Soult and Berthier against three enormous wild-boars, who charged us up to the bayonet's point. All the hunting party fled: 'twas a complete military rout. We killed the three animals dead; but I had a scratch from mine, and had nigh lost my finger" (on which a deep scar was still visible.) "But the jest was to see the number of men, surrounded with their dogs, concealing themselves behind the three heroes, and crying at top of their throats – 'to the Emperor's assistance! save the Emperor! help the Emperor!' – and so forth; but not one coming forward."257