The Life, Exile and Conversations with Napoleon. Emmanuel-Auguste-Dieudonné Las Cases
but, as these subjects recur repeatedly in the course of my Journal, I transfer to another part what occurred here, in order to bring all my information on the above points at once under the eye of the reader.
Mr. Balcombe’s little garden, in which we so often walked, was superintended by an old negro. The first time we saw him, the Emperor, according to his usual custom, desired me to put some questions to him respecting his history; and his answers strongly excited our interest. He was a Malay Indian, and had been forced from his home by the crew of an English vessel, and sold at St. Helena, where he had continued ever since in slavery. His story bore every mark of truth. His countenance had a frank and benevolent expression; his eyes were animated and sparkling. In short his appearance was by no means abject; but, on the contrary, truly prepossessing.
The history of the poor fellow’s misfortunes filled us with, indignation; and a few days after, the Emperor expressed a wish to purchase him and send him back to his own country. He mentioned the subject to the Admiral. The latter, at first, defended his countrymen, and declared that old Toby (which was the name of the unfortunate slave) must be an impostor; for the thing was impossible. He, however, enquired into the matter, and, finding that the story was but too true, he participated in the indignation which we expressed, and promised to exert his best endeavours for the fulfilment of our design. When we left Briars for Longwood, poor Toby, sharing the common fate of all earthly things, was soon forgotten; I know not what became of him.
When we were in the garden, the Emperor generally stopped near Toby’s hut, and made me question him respecting his country, the days of his youth, his family, his present situation, &c.: one would have supposed that he wished to study the feelings of the old slave. By the Emperor’s desire, I invariably closed the conversation by giving him a Napoleon.
Toby was very much attached to us; our presence always seemed to fill him with joy. When we entered the garden, he immediately suspended his work, and, resting on his spade, gazed on us with an air of satisfaction. He understood not a word of the conversation that passed between the Emperor and myself; but he always seemed to anticipate, with a smile, the first words I translated to him. He called the Emperor the Good Gentleman: this was the only name he ever applied to him, and he knew him by no other.
I have mentioned the above particulars, because our meetings with Toby were always followed by novel, spirited, and characteristic reflections on the part of the Emperor. The versatility of his mind is well known. Whenever he adverted to the poor slave’s misfortunes, he always took a new view of the subject. I shall content myself with noting down the following remarks:—
“Poor Toby,” said he one day, “has been torn from his family, from his native land, and sold to slavery: could any thing be more miserable to himself, or more criminal in others! If this crime be the act of the English captain alone, he is doubtless one of the vilest of men; but if it be that of the whole of the crew, it may have been committed by men, perhaps, not so base as might be imagined; for vice is always individual, and scarcely ever collective. Joseph’s brethren could not bring themselves to slay him; while Judas, a cool, hypocritical, calculating villain, betrayed his Master. A philosopher has affirmed that men are born wicked: it would be both difficult and idle to attempt to discover whether the assertion be true. This, at least, is certain, that the great mass of society is not wicked; for if the majority were determined to be criminal and to violate the laws, who would have the power to restrain or prevent them? This is the triumph of civilization; for this happy result springs from its bosom, and arises out of its nature. Sentiments are for the most part traditionary; we feel them because they were felt by those who preceded us: thus we must look to the development of human reason and of the faculties of mankind for the only key to social order, the only secret of the legislator. It is only those who wish to deceive the people and rule them for their own personal advantage that would desire to keep them in ignorance; for the more they are enlightened, the more will they feel convinced of the utility of laws, and of the necessity of defending them; and the more steady, happy, and prosperous will society become. If, however, knowledge should ever be dangerous in the multitude, it can only be when the Government, in opposition to the interests of the people, drives them into an unnatural situation, or dooms the lower classes to perish for want. In such a case, knowledge would inspire them with spirit to defend themselves, or to become criminal.
“My code alone, from its simplicity, has been more beneficial to France than the whole mass of laws which preceded it. My schools and my system of mutual instruction are preparing generations yet unknown. Thus, during my reign, crimes were rapidly diminishing; while, on the contrary, with our neighbours in England, they have been increasing to a frightful degree. This alone is sufficient to enable any one to form a decisive judgment of the respective governments!26
“Look at the United States, where, without any apparent force or effort, every thing goes on prosperously; every one is happy and contented: and this is because the public wishes and interests are in fact the ruling power. Place the same government at variance with the will and interests of its inhabitants, and you would soon see what disturbance, trouble, and confusion, and above all, what an increase of crimes, would ensue.
“When I acquired the supreme direction of affairs, it was wished that I might become a Washington. Words cost nothing; and no doubt those who were so ready to express the wish did so without any knowledge of times, places, persons, or things. Had I been in America, I would willingly have been a Washington, and I should have had little merit in so being; for I do not see how I could reasonably have acted otherwise. But had Washington been in France, exposed to discord within, and invasion from without, I would have defied him to have been what he was in America; at least, he would have been a fool to attempt it, and would only have prolonged the existence of evil. For my own part, I could only have been a Crowned Washington. It was only in a congress of kings, in the midst of kings, yielding or subdued, that I could become so. Then and there alone, I could successfully display Washington’s moderation, disinterestedness, and wisdom. I could not reasonably attain to this but by means of the universal Dictatorship. To this I aspired; can that be thought a crime? Can it be believed that to resign this authority would have been beyond the power of human nature? Sylla, glutted with crimes, dared to abdicate, pursued by public execration! What motive could have checked me, who would have been followed only by blessings?——But it remained for me to conquer at Moscow!—How many will hereafter regret my disasters and my fall!—But to require prematurely of me that sacrifice, for which the time had not arrived, was a vulgar absurdity; and for me to have proclaimed or promised it, would have been taken for hypocrisy and quackery: that was not my way.——I repeat, it remained for me to conquer at Moscow!——”
On another occasion, pausing before Toby, he said:—“What, after all, is this poor human machine? There is not one whose exterior form is like another, or whose internal organisation resembles the rest! And it is by disregarding this truth that we are led to the commission of so many errors! Had Toby been a Brutus, he would have put himself to death: if an Æsop, he would now, perhaps, have been the Governor’s adviser; if an ardent and zealous Christian, he would have borne his chains in the sight of God, and blessed them. As for poor Toby, he endures his misfortunes very quietly; he stoops to his work, and spends his days in innocent tranquillity.” Then, after looking at him for a few moments in silence, he turned away and said: “Certainly it is a great step from poor Toby to a King Richard!——And yet,” continued he, as he walked along, “the crime is not the less atrocious; for this man, after all, had his family, his happiness, and his liberty; and it was a horrible act of cruelty to bring him here to languish in the fetters of slavery,” Then, suddenly stopping short, he added:—“But I read in your eyes that you think he is not the only example of the sort at St. Helena!” And whether he felt offended at being placed on a parallel with Toby, whether he thought it necessary to raise my spirits, or whatever else might be his reason, he went on with dignity and animation: “My dear Las Cases, there is not the least resemblance here: if the outrage is of a higher class, the victims also possess very different resources. We have not been exposed to corporeal sufferings; or if that had been attempted, we have souls to disappoint our tyrants! Our situation may even have its charms! The eyes of the universe are fixed upon us! We are martyrs in an immortal cause! Millions of human beings are weeping for us: our country sighs, and glory mourns