The history of the St. Helena period, as written by authors who were on the spot, is, in the present writer's opinion, singularly free from exaggeration, let alone untruths. Besides, what had any of them to gain by sending forth distorted statements and untruthful history? No one knew better than they that every line they wrote would be contested by those who had relied on the rigid regulations suppressing all communications except those which passed through the hands of Sir Hudson Lowe. Certainly O'Meara cannot be accused of having ulterior motives, nor can any of the others—not even Gourgaud, who acted alternately traitor and devoted friend. Gourgaud alone seems to have had a mania for sinning and repenting, writing down during his childish fits of temper about his supposed wrongs on his shirtcuffs, and not infrequently his finger-nails, some nasty remark or some slanderous thoughts about the man whose amiable consideration for him was notorious amongst the circle at Longwood, and even at Plantation House. These scribblings were intended for precise entry in his diary, and if the peevish temper lasted until he got at this precious book, down they went in rancorous haste.
Yet this hot-headed, jealous chronicler, guided by blind passion and never by reason while these moods were on him, has been held up as an authority that may be relied upon as to the doings and sayings of Napoleon and his immediate followers at the "Abode of Darkness." It is a well-known axiom that persons who speak or write anything while jealousy or temper holds them in its grip may not be counted as reliable people to follow, and that is exactly what happened in Gourgaud's case. He was the Peter of the band of disciples at St. Helena, and it may be considered fairly reasonable to assume that those who have written up the General as a sound historian have done so with a view to backing up prejudices, big or small, against the Emperor.
But surely they have committed a very grave error in singling out as their hero of veracity a man who, in his more normal and charitable moods, pours out praise and pity for his Imperial chief in astonishing profusion.
O'Meara's position was very different from any of the other diarists or writers. He was well aware that if he wrote an honest history it meant his complete ruin, yet he faced it, and defied the world to controvert his statements. "In face of the world," he says, "I challenge investigation," and "investigation" was made with a vengeance worthy of the Inquisition. If a word or a sentence could by any possible means be made to appear faulty, a scream of denunciation was sent forth from one end of Europe to the other, but the crime had sunk too deeply into the hearts of an outraged public for these ebullitions to have any real effect. There might be flaws in diction and even matters of fact, but the sordid reality of the documentary and verbal story that came to them was never doubted. The big heart of the British nation was beginning to be moved in sympathy towards the martyr long before his death, and of course long before O'Meara's book appeared, though the doctor's advent in Europe was made the occasion of a vigorous exposure of the progress of the great assassination.
A wave of public opinion was gathering force; the Government, stupid and treacherous as they were, saw it rising, and renewed their silly efforts to stem it by causing atrocious duplicity to be instituted at home and on the martyr rock. Indeed, nothing was beneath their dignity so long as they succeeded in deceiving an agitated populace and accomplishing their own evil ends.
But notwithstanding the tactics and the deplorable use made of the traitor Gourgaud, sympathetic feeling increases. Questions are frequently asked in the House of Commons, to which evasive answers are given, but reaction is so obviously gaining ground that Lords Liverpool, Castlereagh, and the immortal Bathurst become perturbed. They saw in the accession to power of Lord Holland's party a complete exposure of their maladministration, and a reversing of their policy (if it be not a libel to distinguish it as a "policy"). They knew, too, that once the public is fairly seized with the idea of a great wrong being perpetrated, no Government, however strong numerically or in personality, can withstand its opposition. Had the Emperor lived but a little longer, the vindictive men who tormented him to death would have been compelled to give way before not only British, but European, indignation. Public opinion would have enforced the Administration to deal out better treatment to their captive, have demanded his removal from the island of sorrow, and probably his freedom. The public may be capricious, but once it makes up its mind to do anything no power on earth can stop it, because it has a greater power behind it. Luckily, or unluckily, for Bathurst & Co., the spirit of the great captive had passed beyond the portal before serious public action could be taken.
Three years previous to this the Colonial Secretary in writing to Lowe says:—"We must expect that the removal of Mr. O'Meara will occasion a great sensation, and an attempt will be made to give a bad impression on the subject. You had better let the substance of my instructions be generally known as soon as you have executed it, that it may not be represented that Mr. O'Meara has been removed in consequence of any quarrel with you, but in consequence of the information furnished by General Gourgaud in England respecting his conduct."[11]
In reading through these State letters, one is struck with the diplomatically(?) cunning composition of them. There does not seem to be a manly phrase from beginning to end. Trickery, suspicion, cruelty, veiled or apparent, and an occasional dash of pious consideration and bombast sums up these perfidious documents. A few extracts will convey precisely the character of the men who were carrying on negotiations which should have been regarded as essentially delicate.
In February, 1821, Bathurst writes to Lowe:—
"Sufficient time will have elapsed since the date of your last communications to enable you to form a more accurate judgment with respect to the extent and reality of General Bonaparte's indisposition. Should your observations convince you that the illness has been assumed, you will of course consider yourself at liberty to withhold from him the communication which you are otherwise authorised to make in my despatch No. 21," &c.