"The Viscount Melville,
&c. &c. &c."
I felt convinced that Buonaparte, after the notification he had received, would be too much depressed in spirits to make his appearance on deck this day; and sent a boat to some of my friends, who were waiting in hopes of seeing him, to say there was no chance of his coming out, as he was much distressed at the communication which had been made to him. I was, therefore, a good deal surprised, on turning round, to find him standing at my elbow; and I can only account for his showing himself as usual, by supposing either that he was not in fact so much annoyed as I had believed him to be, or that he was actuated by a desire of creating a feeling of commiseration among the English people in his behalf.
At dinner he conversed as usual; and, indeed, it was quite astonishing with what elasticity his spirits regained their usual cheerfulness, after such trials and disappointments. He never, in my hearing, threatened to commit suicide; nor do I believe he did on any occasion: the only expression I ever heard him make use of, that could in any way be construed into such a threat, was, that he would not go to St Helena,—"Je n'irai pas à St Hélène."
As Buonaparte always retired early to bed, it was the custom for the French ladies and officers to assemble every evening in the ward-room, and partake of wine and water, punch, or bishop—a mixture consisting of Port, Madeira, nutmeg, and other ingredients, well known to sailors, and much relished by our foreign guests.
I was sitting this evening next Montholon, when Madame Bertrand entered; I said to her, "Will you not sit down and take something?" She gave an answer which I took for No; and passed rapidly into the first lieutenant's cabin, which she had occupied since she came on board. Montholon, who had observed her with more attention than I had done, immediately rose and followed her. There was instantly a shriek from the cabin, and a great uproar; and some one called out 'The Countess is overboard.' I ran upon deck, that, in the event of its being so, a boat might be lowered down, or the guard-boats called to her assistance. On looking over the quarter, and seeing no splash in the water, I felt satisfied it was a false alarm, and returned to the ward-room. Madame Bertrand had by this time been placed on her bed, where she was lying in strong hysterics, at intervals abusing the English nation and its Government, in the most vehement and unmeasured terms; sometimes in French and sometimes in English. Lallemand was walking up and down the ward-room much agitated, joining in the abuse; saying, among other things, "that it was horrible to bring a set of people on board the ship for the purpose of butchering them." I turned to him, and said, "Monsieur Lallemand, what a woman says in the state of violent irritation that Madame Bertrand at present is, I consider of little consequence, and am willing to make every allowance for the situation you are placed in; but I cannot stand by and hear such terms used of the Government of my country; and if you do not desist, or make use of more respectful language, I shall be under the necessity of taking measures that will be very unpleasant both to you and myself."
This had the effect of silencing him. When the bustle had subsided, I retired to my cabin, and was employed in writing the foregoing letter to Lord Melville, in behalf of Messrs Savary and Lallemand; when the latter, attended by Generals Montholon and Gourgaud, came in. They immediately entered into conversation with me about the cruelty of their situation: among many other things, they said, "You may depend upon it, the Emperor never will go to St Helena; he will sooner put himself to death; he is a man of determined character, and what he says he will do." "Has he ever said he will put himself to death?" I asked. They answered, "No; but he has said he will not go, which amounts to the same thing; and were he to consent himself, here are three of us who are determined to prevent him." I told them they had better consider the consequences well, before they ventured on a measure of that kind.
The next day, August 1st, 1815, I waited on Lord Keith, and reported all that had occurred during the preceding day. I also showed him the letter I had written and meant to send to Lord Melville, respecting Generals Savary and Lallemand; he read it, and said, "that though he did not agree with me in opinion as to my honour or character being implicated, yet that he saw no harm in the letter." He then said, "You may tell those gentlemen who have threatened to be Buonaparte's executioners, that the law of England awards death to murderers, and that the certain consequence of such an act will be finishing their career on a gallows."
After quitting his Lordship, I had an interview with Sir Henry Bunbury, previous to his setting out for London, and stated to him my feelings respecting the cruelty of delivering up to the French Government, men who had been received under the protection of the British flag. I said that I had no belief myself that any such intention existed; but that they were so strongly impressed with the conviction of it, that I had been induced to write to Lord Melville, and now begged to state to him, that I should consider myself dishonoured for ever, if they suffered death through my means. He listened, but did not speak till I had finished; when he told me he would repeat what I had said to his Majesty's Ministers.
Madame Bertrand kept her bed the whole of this day, and did not appear at dinner. When Buonaparte came upon deck, he asked Mr O'Meara, the surgeon, after her health; and then said, with an incredulous smile, "Do you really think, Doctor, she meant to drown herself?" I put the same question to Montholon; who said he had not a doubt of it, for, when he followed her into the cabin, she was in the act of throwing herself out of the gallery window; that he rushed forward and caught hold of her, and that she continued suspended by the bar that goes across the window, with the greater part of her body hanging out, until he received assistance to drag her in. The bar above-mentioned had been placed there for the purpose of preventing people from falling overboard when the window was open and the ship had much motion at sea.
On returning on board after being with Lord Keith, I went into Madame Bertrand's cabin to see how she was, and found her in bed. I asked her, how she could be so indiscreet as to attempt to destroy herself? "Oh! I am driven to desperation," she said; "I do not know what I do; I cannot persuade my husband to remain behind, he being determined to accompany the Emperor to St Helena." She then ran into a great deal of abuse of Napoleon, saying, "If his ends are served, he does not care what becomes of other people. 'Tis true he has always given Bertrand lucrative and honourable situations, but the expense attending them is such, that it was impossible to save money; and he has never given him a grant of land, or any thing that permanently bettered our fortune."[9] On another occasion, she came into the cabin which I occupied, when I was writing, and, after exacting a promise of secrecy towards the remainder of the suite, she entreated I would take measures to prevent her husband from accompanying Buonaparte, and begged me to write a letter in her name to Lord Keith, to induce him to interfere. I told her it would appear extremely officious in me to write on such a subject, but that any thing she chose to put on paper I would deliver to his Lordship. She did write, and I carried the letter; but his Lordship declined interfering, desiring me to say, he considered it the duty of every good wife to follow the fortunes of her husband. In the course of the conversation above-mentioned, she became extremely warm in speaking of Napoleon, saying, "He deserves nothing at our hands; and, indeed, there is not one of his people who would not most gladly quit him." Whenever she became animated, she could not pour out her feelings in the English language fast enough, (though she spoke it remarkably well, having received her education partly in England,) when she had always recourse to French; and though I frequently reminded her that there was nothing but a piece of canvass between us and the ward-room, where there were generally some of the French officers, I could by no means keep her within bounds. The consequence of which was, that all she said was heard and understood by one of them. When Madame Bertrand had left me, Count Montholon requested to speak with me in private. He carried me up to his cabin on the quarter-deck, where I found Generals Gourgaud and Lallemand, who told me they had been informed of what Madame Bertrand had said to me; and they had requested to see me, for the purpose of contradicting her assertion, that they were desirous of quitting Buonaparte: that, so far from that being the case, there was not one of them that would not follow him with pleasure wherever he might be sent, or that would not lay down his life to serve him: they also required secrecy towards the Countess. I answered, "Why really, gentlemen, this is very extraordinary; you pretend to know all that passed in a private conversation I have had with Madame Bertrand, and then to bind me to secrecy: you may depend upon it, I will enter into no such engagement, until I know by what means you obtained your information." They then told me that one of them had been in the quarter-gallery, and overheard all she said.