The History of Napoleon Buonaparte

by J. G. Lockhart

Napoleon, in his bulletins, did not scruple to throw the blame of his discomfiture on the misconduct of his chief officers—particularly of Grouchy—and even of Ney himself; nor wanted there devoted men, such as Labedoyere, to sustain these most unfounded charges, and all other arguments anywise favouring the cause of the Emperor, in either chamber. But the truth was great, and prevailed. The Senate, no more than the people, could be deceived now; and though a deputation waited on him at the Elysée, and in most respectful terms thanked him for the sacrifice he had made, he in vain endeavoured to extort any direct avowal that, in accepting his abdication, they considered that act as necessarily accompanied with the immediate proclamation of Napoleon II. The Emperor, for the last time clothed in the imperial garb, and surrounded with his great officers of state, received the deputation with calmness and dignity, and dismissed them with courtesy. He perceived clearly that there was no hope for his son.

Thus terminated the second reign—the hundred days of Napoleon.

By this time, however, Labedoyere's violent language in the Senate—his repeated protestations that unless Napoleon II. were recognised, the abdication of his father was null, and that the country which could hesitate about such an act of justice was worthy of nothing but slavery—began to produce a powerful effect among the regular soldiery of Paris. The Senate called on Napoleon himself to signify to the army that he no longer claimed any authority over them; and he complied, though not without mingling many expressions highly offensive to those whose mandate he obeyed. A provisional government, however, consisting of Fouché, Carnot, and three more, was forthwith proclaimed; and when the first of these persons conceived that Napoleon's continued presence in the capital might produce disturbances, and accordingly requested him to withdraw to Malmaison, he found himself obliged to do so. This was on the 24th; and no sooner was he established in this villa, than it became obvious to himself that he was in fact a prisoner. Fouché's police surrounded him on all sides; and the military duties about Malmaison were discharged by a party of the national guard, attached to Louis XVIII., and commanded by General Beker, an officer well known to be personally hostile to the fallen sovereign. We have seen how the Parisians veered from side to side at every former crisis of his history, according as the wind of fortune happened to blow. To finish the picture it remains to be told that, ere Napoleon had been two days at Malmaison, he was to all appearance, as much forgotten in the neighbouring capital as if he had never returned from Elba.

The relics of Waterloo, and Grouchy's division, having at length been gathered together under Soult at Laon; were now marching towards Paris, and followed hard behind by Wellington and Blucher. The provisional government began to be seriously alarmed lest Buonaparte should, by some desperate effort, escape from Malmaison, and once more place himself at the head of a considerable armed force. He himself, indeed, was continually sending to them, requesting permission to take the field as General for Napoleon II.; and one of the government, Carnot, was heartily desirous that this prayer should be granted. Under such circumstances, Fouché, who had, throughout, corresponded with and plotted against all parties, now employed every art to persuade the fallen chief that the only course, whether of safety or of dignity, that remained for him, was to fly immediately to the United States of America; and, that nothing may be wanting to show how the great and the little were perpetually intermingled in the fortunes of Buonaparte, one of the means adopted by this intriguer, and not the least effectual, was that of stimulating the personal creditors of the dethroned Emperor and his family to repair incessantly to Malmaison and torment him with demands of payment. Meantime Fouché sent to the Duke of Wellington, announcing that Napoleon had made up his mind to repair to America, and requesting a safe-conduct for him across the Atlantic. The Duke replied, that he had no authority to grant any passports to Napoleon Buonaparte; and the only consequence (as Fouché had perhaps anticipated) was, that the English Admiralty quickened their diligence, and stationed no less than thirty cruisers along the western coasts of France, for the purpose of intercepting the disturber of the world in his meditated flight.

Fouché, in communicating to Napoleon the refusal of Wellington, took care to signify urgent fears that the English government might adopt such measures as these, and to build on this a new argument for the hastening of his departure from the neighbourhood of Paris. He informed him that two frigates and some smaller vessels awaited his orders at Rochefort, and assured him, that if he repaired thither on the instant, he would still be in time.

Napoleon hesitated at Malmaison, as he had done before at the Kremlin—at Dresden—and at Fontainebleau. The cry of the approaching soldiery of Soult was already in his ear, inviting him to be once more their Emperor. On the other hand, it was now too obvious, that the army alone retained any reverence for him; and, lastly, what after all could he hope to effect with at most 60,000 men, against the victorious hosts of Wellington and Blucher, backed, as they were about to be, by great reinforcements from England and Prussia, and by the whole armies of Spain, Italy, Germany, Austria and the Czar?—Napoleon well knew that ere six weeks more elapsed, 800,000 foreigners would be cantoned within the boundaries of France. He at length yielded; and on the 29th of June left Malmaison, accompanied by Savary, Bertrand, Las Cazes, and others of his attached servants, and attended by a considerable guard.

Napoleon reached Rochefort on the 3rd of July; and took up his residence in the prefect's house, with the view of embarking immediately: but he forthwith was informed, that a British line-of-battle ship (the Bellerophon, Captain Maitland) and some smaller vessels of war were off the roads, and given to understand that the commanders of the squadron at his own disposal showed no disposition to attempt the passage out in face of these watchers. A Danish merchant-ship was then hired, and the Emperor occupied himself with various devices for concealing his person in the hold of this vessel. But the Danish captain convinced him ere long that the British searchers would not be likely to pass him undetected, and this plan too was abandoned. Some young French midshipmen then gallantly offered to act as the crew of a small flat coasting vessel, a chausse-marree, and attempt the escape in this way under cloud of night. But all experienced seamen concurred in representing the imminent hazard of exposing such a vessel to the Atlantic, as well as the numberless chances of its also being detected by the English cruisers. "Where-ever wood can swim," said Napoleon, "there I am sure to find this flag of England."

Meanwhile time passed on; and it became known that the French army had once more retired from before the walls of Paris under a convention: that Wellington and Blucher were about to enter the city, and reseat Louis on his throne; that the royalists were everywhere assuming the decided advantage—that the white flag was already hoisted in the neighbouring town of Rochelle—and that it would be so at Rochefort itself on the instant, were his person removed. Under such circumstances, to attempt a journey into the interior of France, with the view of rejoining Soult, now marching on the Loire, or with any other purpose, must needs expose Napoleon to every chance of falling into the hands of the Bourbons; and at length, since it was impossible to sail out of Rochefort without the consent of the English, it was resolved to open a negotiation with their commander.

On the 19th of July, Savary and Count Las Cazes came off with a flag of truce, and began their conversation by stating that the Emperor had been promised a safe-conduct for America, and asking if the document were in Captain Maitland's hands? No safe-conduct of any kind had been promised or contemplated by any English authority whatever; and the captain could only answer that, as far as concerned himself, his orders were to make every effort to prevent Buonaparte from escaping, and if so fortunate as to obtain possession of his person, to sail at once with him for England. Savary and Las Cazes made great efforts to persuade Maitland that Napoleon's removal from France was a matter of pure voluntary choice; but this the British officer considered as a question wherewith he had nothing to do. The utmost the Frenchmen could extract from him was, that he, as a private individual, had no reason to doubt but that Buonaparte, if he sailed for England in the Bellerophon, would be well treated there.

The same personages returned on the 14th, and another conversation, longer, but to the same purpose, was held by them with Maitland, in the presence of Captain Sartorius and Captain Gambier, both of the royal navy. These gentlemen have corroborated completely the statement of Maitland, that he, on the second as on the first interview, continued to guard the Frenchmen against the remotest conception of his being entitled to offer any pledge whatever to Napoleon, except that he would convey him in safety off the English coast, there to abide the determination of the English government. Savary and Las Cazes, on the contrary, persisted in asserting that Maitland, on the 14th July, gave a pledge that Napoleon, if he came on board the Bellerophon, should be received there not as a prisoner of war, but as a voluntary guest, and that it was solely in consequence of this pledge that Napoleon finally resolved to embark. But there is one piece of evidence in contradiction of this story, of which even themselves could hardly dispute the weight—to wit, the date of the following letter to the Prince Regent of England, which General Gourgaud brought out the same evening to the Bellerophon, and which clearly proves—that what Napoleon ultimately did on the 15th, depended in nowise on anything that Maitland said on the 14th.