Recollections of Napoleon at St. Helena/Chapter 18

NAPOLEON'S TALENT FOR MIMICRY.—HIS RETIRED WALK, PLANNED BY HIMSELF.—CARDINAL RICHELIEU, ETC.—THE PIC-NIC.—NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE, ETC.

Napoleon was a tolerable mimic: one day he asked my sister if she had ever heard the London cries; on her replying she had, he began imitating them, very much to our diversion. He did it well in all, save the pronunciation of the English, which sounded very droll. My sister said she was sure he must have visited England incog. to have acquired them so perfectly. He said he had been much entertained by one of his buffo actors introducing the cries of London, in some comedy which was got up in Paris. ​Napoleon was a great admirer of Talma; he said he was the truest actor to nature that ever trod the boards. He was on very intimate and familiar footing with him. I told him I had heard he took lessons from Talma how he was to sit on his throne. He said he had been often asked if such had been the case, and that he one day mentioned the report to the great actor, at the same time remarking to him, "C'est un signe que je m'y tions bien." He often spoke of Mademoiselle Georges, whom he represented as being very talented, and transcendently beautiful.

One morning, after having been to a ball, and being consequently very tired, I tried in vain, during one of my Longwood promenades, to find where the emperor had hid himself. I was told he was superintending a ditch which was forming for him, that he might have a walk free from molestation. Thither I bent my steps, and discovered Napoleon contemplating the work, with arms folded. ​and downcast gaze. He said he intended having a private walk, where he could not be overlooked, and for that purpose had directed the ditch to be constructed. It was so laughable an idea, that we could not help smiling at a man's having a ditch to promenade in, but so it was the work was completed soon after, and he had an unobserved walk, which, when made, we were told he never used. I think my memory in this instance has not failed me.

After the earthquake; from sitting on the steps of the verandah, I caught a violent cold, and was sneezing and coughing all the morning. Napoleon said the climate was so bad it was not to be wondered at, and that we ought to have fireplaces made at the Briars, to keep out the cold in the wintry season. I told him it would be useless, as there were no coals on our island. He said we had better then burn some of the orange trees. He was in a bad humour that morning, or he would never have af​fronted us so much by bidding us destroy our garden, and grub up our beautiful orange trees to burn.

I remember one of Napoleon's favourite contemplations was the history of great men who had figured in bygone days. He told me an anecdote of Cardinal Richelieu, which impressed us much at the time it was repeated to us. It was during the days of his (I may call it) sovereignty, that a nobleman, who waited upon him about affairs of importance, was ushered into his private cabinet. Whilst they were conversing together, a great personage was announced, and entered the room; after some conversation with the cardinal, the great man took his leave, and Richelieu, in compliment to him, attended him to his carriage, forgetting that he had left the other alone in the cabinet. On his return to his room he rang a bell, one of his confidential secretaries entered, to whom he whispered something. He then cou​versed with the other very freely, appeared to take an interest in his affairs, kept him in conversation for a short time, accompanied him to the door, shook hands with him, and took leave of him in the most friendly way, telling him he might make his mind easy, as he had determined to provide for him. The poor man departed highly satisfied, and full of thanks and gratitude. As he was going out of the door, he was arrested, not allowed to speak to any one, and conveyed in a coach to the Bastile, where he was kept au secret for ten years; at the expiration of which time the cardinal sent for him, and expressed his great regret at having been obliged to adopt the step he had taken; that he had no cause of complaint against him; on the contrary, he believed him to be a good subject to his majesty; but the fact was, he had left a paper on his table when he quitted the room, containing state accounts of vast importance, which he was afraid he ​might have perused in his absence; that the safety of the kingdom demanded they should not be divulged, and obliged him to adopt measures to prevent the possibility of the contents being known; that as soon as the safety of the country permitted, he had released him; was sorry, and begged his pardon for the uneasiness he had caused him, and would be happy to make him some amends.

The Commissary General of St. Helena was a great favourite with every one who had the pleasure of being acquainted with him. He was most amusing, and very clever. He established a theatre on the island, and the amateur plays performed by him, assisted by the officers of the 53rd and 66th regiments stationed there, rendered the little island a scene of gaiety and continued merriment; what with the races, balls, plays, and pic-nics, sham fights by sea and land, &c., there was scarcely a day undiversified by some amusement or ​other. On one memorable occasion, Mr. T. invited a large party to pic-nic at his house; nearly all the inhabitants St. Helena contained (who delighted in those pleasurable amusements) were there. The house was situated near the celebrated "Friar's Valley," at a great distance from any of the dwellings of the people bidden to the fête, and the roads leading thereto must be seen to be conceived. No language, however romantic in its flight, could impress the reader with the varied dangers and difficulties with which they abounded, and the temptation must indeed have been great to induce a timid horsewoman to encounter them. The ride there, I recollect, was comparatively easy; the party was so delightful, and the weather so charming, that time was beguiled, and the hours unnumbered stole on, till the faint echo of the Ladder Hill gun stole on our startled senses; for it told the guests there assembled, that the ninth hour had struck, and without the counter-​sign none must venture forth, unless they made up their minds to be taken prisoners, and confined for the night in the first guard house they came near. A consultation was held, and the most daring of the party declared the risk of returning home must be run; amongst the boldest of these was my father; and, being under his command, my mother and sister, with myself, and a large proportion of the guests, mounted their horses and set forward. The night was star-light, but the road so bad and unfrequented, that though for a long while the sentries placed about the heights were eluded, our way was lost. I shall never forget the scrambling and tumbling about, the horses feet tripping under them every moment, over loose stones. At length, my father hailed a light, which appeared at a short distance before us—a most unlucky circumstance. He was answered by a sentry presenting his musket, and demanding "Who goes there?" "A friend," says my father. "Advance, ​friend, and give the countersign." But no countersign had we, and to the alarm-house we were all marched, (a guard-room placed between Longwood and the Briars.) We passed a wretched night in the little hole, eaten up by fleas, musquitoes, and all sorts of horrible things; but the most disagreeable was, the quizzing we were obliged to endure from our acquaintance, who had been wise enough to stay at Cruise Plain, instead of being so foolhardy as to venture forth. Napoleon was highly diverted, and rather pleased with the opportunity it gave him for abusing the strict watch which was set to prevent the possibility of his escaping.