arrested there by the First Consul, on the rupture of the treaty of Amiens, by way of reprisal for the seizure of our merchant-ships by the English Government, according to its custom, before the declaration of war. This event gave rise to a long and animated discussion between the two Governments; and even prevented, during the whole of the war, a cartel for the exchange of prisoners. The English ministers persisted in refusing to consider their detained countrymen as prisoners, lest they should, in so doing, make an implicit renunciation of what may perhaps be called their right of piracy. However, their obstinacy cost their countrymen a long captivity. They were detained in France more than ten years; their absence was as long and as irksome, though not so glorious, as that of the besiegers of Troy.
This English gentleman was a brother-in-law of Admiral Burton, the Commander on the Indian station, who lately died. This circumstance might very possibly procure for him an immediate communication with Ministers on his arrival in England. He might perhaps have been appointed by the Admiral to be the bearer of intelligence respecting us. Instead, therefore, of declining conversation, I prolonged it. It lasted more than two hours, and was all calculated on my part with a view to what he might repeat to the Admiral, or communicate to the Government or private circles in England. I will not tire my readers by a recital of it. They would only find the same eternal recapitulation of our reproaches and grievances: a repetition of our complaints and vexations: a continued exposure of the violation of those laws that are esteemed most sacred; of the outrage on our good faith; of the arrogance, impudence, and petty insolence of power. I dwelt particularly on the ill-treatment to which we were here exposed; and on the caprices of the individual who was appointed our keeper. “His glory,” said I, “should consist, not in oppressing, but in relieving us. He should endeavour to make us forget, by his attentions, all the rigour and injustice of his country’s policy. Can he court the reprobation of mankind, when his good fortune enables him to connect his name gloriously with that of the man of the age, the hero of history? Can he object that he is bound by his instructions? But even then, in the spirit of our European manners, honour enables him to interpret them in a suitable manner.”
The Englishman listened to me with great attention. He seemed occasionally to take particular interest in what I said; and expressed his approbation of several of my remarks. But was he sincere, and will he not express very different sentiments in London?
Whenever a ship arrives in England from St. Helena, the public papers immediately give insertion to various stories relative to the captives at Longwood, of so false and absurd a nature, as must necessarily render them ridiculous to the great mass of the public. When we expressed our indignation at these idle reports in the presence of honourable and distinguished Englishmen here, they replied: “Do not deceive yourselves, these false accounts proceed not from our countrymen who visit you; but from our Ministers in London; for, to the excess and violence of power, the administration by which we are now ruled adds all the meanness of the lowest and vilest intrigues.”
ON THE FRENCH EMIGRANTS.—KINDNESS SHEWN BY
THE ENGLISH.—RESOURCES OF THE EMIGRANTS.
27th.—The Emperor felt himself better, and rode out on horseback about one o’clock. On his return he received the officers of the 53rd, and behaved to them in the most amiable and condescending manner.
After this visit, the Emperor, who had desired me to remain with him, walked in the garden. I there gave him an account of the conversation I had had the day before with the Englishman. He then asked me some questions relative to the French emigrants, London, and the English. I told him that though the emigrants in a body did not like the English, yet there were few who did not become attached to some Englishman or other: that though the English were not fond of the emigrants, yet there were few English families who did not shew themselves friendly to some of the French. This is the real key to those sentiments and reports, so often contradictory, that are met with on the subject. With regard to the kindness we received from the English, particularly the middle class, from whom the character of a nation is always to be learned, it is beyond all expression, and has entailed a heavy debt of gratitude upon us. It would be difficult to enumerate the private benefactions, the benevolent institutions, and the charitable measures, by which our distresses were relieved. The example of individuals induced the Government to assist us by regular allowances; and even when these were granted, private benevolence did not cease.
The Emperor here asked me whether I had been a sharer in the grants supplied by the English Government: I told him that I had felt more pleasure in being indebted for support solely to my own exertions; and that the state of society and encouragement of industry in England were such that with this feeling a man was sure to succeed. On two occasions I had had an opportunity of making my fortune: Colbert, Bishop of Rhodez, a native of Scotland, who was very fond of me, proposed that I should accompany his brother to Jamaica, where he was appointed to the head of the executive power, and where he was one of the most considerable planters. He would have intrusted to me the direction of his property, and would have obtained for me other employment of the same kind. The Bishop assured me that I should make a fortune in three years. I could not, however, prevail on myself to go; I preferred continuing a life of poverty, to removing to a greater distance from the French shore.
“On another occasion,” continued I, “some friends wished to persuade me to go to India, where I should have obtained employment and patronage, and was assured that in a short time I should realize a considerable fortune. But this I declined. I thought myself too old to travel so far. This was twenty years ago; and yet I am now at St. Helena.
“However, there were few who suffered greater hardships than I did at the commencement of my emigration, and who enjoyed greater comforts towards its close. I have more than once found myself on the point of being entirely destitute of every thing. Still I was never discouraged or dejected. I consoled myself with the treasure of philosophy, and compared my own condition with that of numbers around me, who were more wretched than myself: to old men and women, for example, to those who were destitute of education, or who, wanting the faculties requisite for acquiring a foreign language, were thus cut off from all resources. I was young, full of hope, and capable of exertion. I taught what I did not well know myself, whatever was asked of me, and I learned over-night what I might have to teach on the succeeding day. My Historical Atlas was a fortunate idea, which opened to me a mine of gold. At that period, however, I had executed only an outline of my plan; but in London every thing is encouraged, every thing sells; and, moreover, Heaven blessed my exertions. I landed at the mouth of the Thames, and reached London on foot, with only seven louis in my pocket, without a friend, without an introduction, in a foreign land; but I left it in a post-chaise, possessed of 2500 guineas, having gained many dear friends, to serve whom I would gladly have sacrificed my life.”
“But, supposing I had been an emigrant,” said the Emperor, “what would have been my lot?” He took a view of various professions, but decided in favour of a soldier’s life. “I should have fulfilled my career after all,” said he.—“That is not quite certain,” I observed. “Sire, you would have been smothered in the crowd. On arriving at Coblentz in any French corps, you would have been placed according to your rank on the list, without any possibility of getting beyond it; for we were rigid observers of forms,” &c.
The Emperor then enquired when and how I had returned to France. “After the peace of Amiens,” said I, “availing myself of the benefit of your amnesty; yet I joined an English family, and slipped in in a sort of contraband way, in order to reach Paris earlier than I otherwise could have done. Immediately on my arrival there, fearing lest I should compromise that family, I went in person to make my declaration to the police, and received a paper which I was to present for inspection once a week or once a month. I paid no attention to it; but nothing happened to me through my neglect. I had determined on conducting myself with prudence, and therefore felt satisfied that I had nothing to fear. At one time, however, I saw that my intention might have cost me dear: it was during the most violent crisis of the affair of Georges and Pichegru. I usually passed my evenings in the society of intimate friends in my own house; I scarcely ever went out. On