With regard to Napoleon's reclamations against the decision of the English government, it may probably suffice now to observe—1st, that that government had never, at any period, acknowledged him as Emperor of France, and that it refused to be a party to the treaty under which he retired to Elba, simply because it was resolved not to acknowledge him as Emperor of Elba. These things Napoleon well knew; and as to his recent re-exercise of imperial functions in France, he well knew that the English government had continued to acknowledge Louis XVIII. as King all through the hundred days. Upon no principle, therefore, could he have expected beforehand to be treated as Emperor by the ministers of the Prince Regent; nor, even if he had been born a legitimate prince, would it have been in the usual course of things for him, under existing circumstances, to persist in the open retention of his imperial style. By assuming some incognito, as sovereigns when travelling out of their own dominions are accustomed to do, Napoleon might have cut the root away from one long series of his subsequent disputes with the English government and authorities. But in doing as he did, he acted on calculation. He never laid aside the hopes of escape and of empire. It was his business to have complaints. If everything went on quietly and smoothly about him, what was to ensure the keeping up of a lively interest in his fortunes among the faction, to which he still looked as inclined to befriend him, and above all, among the soldiery, of whose personal devotion, even after the fatal catastrophe of Waterloo, he had no reason to doubt? Buonaparte, in his days of success, always attached more importance to etiquette than a prince born to the purple, and not quite a fool, would have been likely to do: but in the obstinacy with which, after his total downfall, he clung to the airy sound of majesty, and such pigmy toys of observance as could be obtained under his circumstances, we cannot persuade ourselves to behold no more than the sickly vanity of a parvenu. The English government acknowledged him by the highest military rank he had held at that time when the treaty of Amiens was concluded with him as First Consul; and the sound of General Buonaparte, now so hateful in his ears, who had under that style wielded the destinies of the world, might have been lost, if Napoleon himself had chosen, in some factitious style.
To come to the more serious charges. Napoleon, driven to extremity in 1814 by the united armies of Europe, abdicated his throne, that abdication being the price of peace to France, and to soothe his personal sufferings, obtained the sovereignty of Elba. When he violated the treaty by returning in arms to Provence, the other provisions, which gave peace to France and Elba to him, were annulled of course. When the fortune of Waterloo compelled him to take refuge in the Bellerophon—what was to be done? To replace in Elba, or any similar situation, under some new treaty, the man who had just broken a most solemn one, was out of the question. To let him remain at large in the midst of a country close to France, wherein the press is free to licentiousness, and the popular mind liable to extravagant agitations, would have been to hazard the domestic tranquillity of England, and throw a thousand new difficulties in the way of every attempt to consolidate the social and political system of the French monarchy. In most other times the bullet or the axe would have been the gentlest treatment to be expected by one who had risen so high, and fallen so fatally. This his surrender to Captain Maitland—to say nothing of the temper of the times—put out of the question. It remained to place him in a situation wherein his personal comfort might as far as possible be united with security to the peace of the world; and no one has as yet pretended to point out a situation preferable in this point of view to that remote and rocky island of the Atlantic, on which it was the fortune of the great Napoleon to close his earthly career. The reader cannot require to be reminded that the personage, whose relegation to St. Helena has formed the topic of so many indignant appeals and contemptuous commentaries, was, after all, the same man, who, by an act of utterly wanton and unnecessary violence, seized Pius VII. and detained him a prisoner for nearly four years, and who, having entrapped Ferdinand VII. to Bayonne, and extorted his abdication by the threat of murder, concluded by locking him up during five years at Valençay.
The hints and threats of suicide having failed in producing the desired effect—and a most ridiculous attempt on the part of some crazy persons in England to get possession of Napoleon's person, by citing him to appear as a witness on a case of libel, having been baffled, more formally than was necessary, by the swift sailing of the Bellerophon for the Start—the fallen Emperor at length received in quiet the intimation, that Admiral Sir George Cockburn was ready to receive him on board the Northumberland, and convey him to St. Helena. Savary and L'Allemand were among the few persons omitted by name in King Louis's amnesty on his second restoration, and they were extremely alarmed when they found that the retreat of St. Helena was barred on them by the English government. They even threatened violence—but consulting Sir Samuel Romilly, and thus ascertaining that the government had no thoughts of surrendering them to Louis XVIII., submitted at length with a good grace to the inevitable separation. Napoleon's suite, as finally arranged, consisted of Count Bertrand (grand master of the palace), Count Montholon (one of his council of state), Count Las Cazes, General Gourgaud (his aide-de-camp), and Dr. O'Meara, an Irish naval surgeon, whom he had found in the Bellerophon, and who was now by his desire transferred to the Northumberland. Bertrand and Montholon were accompanied by their respective countesses and some children; and twelve upper domestics of the imperial household followed their master's fortune. Of the money which Napoleon had with him, to the amount of some £4000, the British government took possession, pro tempore, announcing that they charged themselves with providing regularly for all the expenditure of his establishment; but his plate, chiefly gold and of much value, was permitted to remain untouched.
On the 8th of August the Northumberland sailed for St. Helena, and the exile had his first view of his destined retreat on the 15th of October, 1815. During the voyage, Sir George Cockburn departed from some observances of respect into which Captain Maitland had very naturally fallen, under very different circumstances. The admiral, in a word, did not permit Napoleon to assume the first place on board the Northumberland. He did the honours of the table himself; nor did he think it necessary to break up his company immediately after dinner, because the ex-emperor chose to rise then—in adherence to the custom of French society: neither did he man his yards or fire salutes on any occasion, as is done in the case of crowned heads, nor follow the example of the French suite in remaining at all times uncovered in the presence of Napoleon. With these exceptions, General Buonaparte was treated with all the respect which great genius and great misfortunes could claim from a generous mind; nor was he on the whole insensible to the excellent conduct either of Maitland or of Cockburn. Cruelly and most unjustly attacked, as the former had been, by Las Cazes and Savary—and by Napoleon—when the captain of the Bellerophon comes to record his final sentiments towards his prisoner, it is in these affecting words—"It may appear surprising that a possibility should exist of a British officer being prejudiced in favour of one who had caused so many calamities to his country; but to such an extent did he possess the power of pleasing, that there are few people who could have sat at the same table with him for nearly a month, as I did, without feeling a sensation of pity, perhaps allied to regret, that a man possessed of so many fascinating qualities, and who had held so high a station in life, should be reduced to the situation in which I saw him."
To the extraordinary power of fascination which Napoleon had at command, a still more striking testimony occurs in an anecdote, apparently well authenticated, of Lord Keith. When someone alluded in this old admiral's hearing to Buonaparte's repeated request of a personal interview with the Prince Regent, "On my conscience," said Lord Keith, "I believe, if you consent to that, they will be excellent friends within half an hour."
CHAPTER XLII
Napoleon at St. Helena—The Briars—Longwood—Charges against the English Government respecting his accommodations and treatment at St. Helena—Charges against the Governor, Sir Hudson Lowe—Napoleon's mode of life at Longwood—His Health falls off—His Death and Funeral—Conclusion.
Napoleon was weary of shipboard, and, therefore, landed immediately. Finding the curiosity of the people troublesome, he took up his quarters at The Briars, a small cottage about half a mile from James's Town, during the interval which must needs elapse before the admiral could provide suitable accommodation for his permanent residence. For that purpose Longwood, a villa about six miles from James's Town, was, after an examination of all that the island afforded, determined on; except Plantation House, the country residence of the governor, there was no superior house in St. Helena; and two months having been employed diligently in some additions and repairs, the fallen Emperor took possession of his appointed abode on the 10th of December. The very limited accommodation of the Briars (where, indeed, Napoleon merely occupied a pavilion of two chambers in the garden of a Mr. Balcombe), had hitherto prevented him from having, all his little suite of attendants under the same roof with him. They were now re-assembled at Longwood, with the exception of M. and Mme. Montholon, who occupied a separate house at some little distance from it. While at The Briars, Napoleon made himself eminently agreeable to the family of the Balcombes, particularly the young ladies and children, and submitted on the whole with temper and grace to the inconveniences of narrow accommodation in-doors, and an almost total want of exercise abroad—this last evil occasioned wholly by his own reluctance to ride out in the neighbourhood of the town. He continued also to live on terms of perfect civility with Sir George Cockburn; and, notwithstanding some occasional ebullitions of violence, there seemed to be no reason for doubting that, when fairly established with his suite about him, he would gradually reconcile himself to the situation in which he was likely to remain, and turn his powerful faculties upon some study or pursuit worthy of their energy, and capable of cheating captivity of half its bitterness. These anticipations were not realised.