Napoleon's British visitors and captives, 1801-1815

by John Goldworth Alger

I was told that the season was bad, and that I should do well to put off my journey till the spring. But I determined to go then.

Colonel Campbell, the Commissioner of the British Government, was usually resident at Florence; he was then returning to Elba, and a brig-of-war had been placed at his disposal. I was glad to take advantage of the opportunity. He told us on the way that Napoleon had sate up late at night, revising the list of the Municipal Council of Porto Ferrajo for the ensuing year. Colonel Campbell seemed to consider this circumstance a proof that the deposed Emperor could be as busy upon a trifling affair as on the destinies of Europe. But no doubt Napoleon wished to have a municipality on whom he could rely in case of need.

The first person Whitmore and I saw at Porto Ferrajo was General Bertrand, and he introduced us to his wife, a Dillon by birth.

In conversation with General Bertrand, he asked us the meaning of a paragraph in the Courier newspaper, sent him by Colonel Campbell, to the effect that the Congress of Vienna had it in contemplation to send the Emperor to St. Helena. We had not seen the paragraph, and could not account for it. I have never referred to the Courier newspaper of that period to ascertain its wording, or guess at its origin. But it had evidently made a great impression on General Bertrand.

In the evening of that day, about eight o’clock, I went to the house at the top of the town where Napoleon resided. He received me in his drawing-room. He was dressed in uniform—a green coat, single-breasted, white breeches, and silk stockings. I was much struck with his countenance—eyes of a muddy colour and cunning expression; the fine features which we all know in his bust and on his coins; and, lastly, a most agreeable and winning smile. He was very courteous in his manner. I was with him for a long time—I think an hour and a half. He stood the whole time, only sometimes leaning on the chimney-piece.

What struck me most in his conversation was a certain uneasiness about his position—a suspicion that something serious was about to happen to him, and he seemed to have a desire to entrap me into giving him information which I was neither able nor willing to afford. With this view, as I supposed, he asked me a number of questions of little interest to him—such as, whether I was in the House of Commons or the House of Lords, whether my father had kept up much state as Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, and whether the Lady-Lieutenant had any dame d’honneur in her suite? When I replied that she had only a young lady, who was her cousin, in the house with her, he remarked, ‘C’était une dame de compagnie, pas une dame d’honneur.’ These questions he would intersperse with eager enquiries respecting the state of France; and when I replied that I had not come through France, but by sea from Portugal, he would not let me off, but asked me what Lord Holland, whom I had seen at Florence, thought of French opinion—enquiring, with much emphasis, ‘L’armée est-elle contente?’

He spoke also of Italy; and when I said that Italy had no union, and therefore would probably remain quiet, he said, ‘C’est vrai.’ I told him that I had heard everywhere, that during his reign the robberies and pillage, which had been so common before, had almost ceased; he said quickly, ‘C’était la gendarmerie.’

He seemed alarmed regarding his own safety, asking me, more than once, whether our Minister at Florence was a man to be trusted; whether fearing that he might be carried off by force, or wishing to obtain some assurance of safety and protection from Lord Burghersh, the British Minister, I cannot tell. I told him that Lord Burghersh had been attached, as a military officer, to one of the allied armies which had invaded France; but of this he seemed to know nothing.

It was evident to me that the paragraph in the Courier, which had been mentioned to me by General Bertrand, had been shown to Napoleon, and had produced a great impression upon him. He seemed to me to be meditating some enterprise, and yet very doubtful whether he should undertake it. When we heard afterwards of his expedition from Elba, the Count de Mosbourg, a minister of Murat, was asked what could have induced Napoleon to run so great a hazard; ‘Un peu d’espoir et beaucoup de désespoir,’ was his reply. Such appeared to me to be, when I saw him, the state of his mind; and when I got to Rome, I wrote to my brother, Lord Tavistock, that I was sure Napoleon was thinking of some fresh attempt.

Napoleon seemed very curious on the subject of the Duke of Wellington. He said it was a great mistake in the English Government to send him Ambassador to Paris. ‘On n’aime pas voir un homme par qui on a été battu.’ He had never sent as Ambassador to Vienna a man who had entered Vienna as an officer of the French invading army. (Count Lebzeltern, the Austrian Ambassador at Rome, denied the truth of this assertion.) As I had seen a good deal of the Duke of Wellington in Spain, Napoleon asked me what were likely to be his occupations. I answered that during his campaigns the Duke had been so much absorbed by his attention to the war that I did not well understand how he could give his mind to other subjects. He remarked, rather sharply, as if he thought I was inclined to think lightly of military talents, ‘Eh bien, c’est un grand jeu, belle occupation!’ He spoke at some length of his plans respecting Spain. He would have divided the large landed properties in the hands of the grandees, of the monasteries, and of the clergy. He would have introduced into Spain the enlightened principles of religious toleration and facilitated commercial intercourse in the interior, etc.