Part 4
Lord Keith, after announcing himself for some time before, had only just made his appearance. It was evident that our company was shunned, our conversation avoided. The papers contained an account of the measures which were about to be taken; but, as nothing official had appeared, and there was some contradiction in the details, we were induced to flatter ourselves as to the final result: thus remaining in that state of suspense and uncertainty which is worse than a knowledge of the most painful truths. Nevertheless, our arrival in England had produced a singular sensation: the presence of the Emperor excited a curiosity bordering on delirium. It was the papers themselves that informed us of the circumstance, while they condemned it. All England seemed to hurry towards Plymouth. A person who had left London, on hearing of my arrival, was obliged to stop on the road for want of post-horses and accommodation. The Sound was covered with an immense number of boats; for some of which, as we heard, above fifty pounds had been paid.
The Emperor, to whom I read all the newspapers, did not betray any decrease of composure either by his conversation or general habits. It was known that he always appeared on deck towards five o’clock. A short time before this hour, all the boats collected alongside of each other; there were thousands; and so closely connected that the water could no longer be seen between them; they looked more like a multitude assembled in a public square than any thing else. When the Emperor came out, the noise and gestures of so many people presented a most striking spectacle: it was, at the same time, very easy to perceive that nothing hostile was meant, and that if curiosity had brought them, they felt interested on going away; we could even see that the latter sentiment continued to increase;—at first people merely looked towards the ship, they ended by saluting; some remained uncovered, and occasionally went so far as to cheer. Even our symbols began to appear amongst them. Several persons of both sexes came decorated with red carnations, but this was only turned to our detriment in the eyes of the Ministry and its partisans, so that it rendered our agony more poignant.
It was under these circumstances that the Emperor, who, notwithstanding his calm demeanor, could not help being struck by what he heard, dictated a paper to me, worthy of serving as a model to jurists, discussing and defending his real political situation; we found means of conveying it on shore, but I have kept no copy.
MINISTERIAL DECISION.
29th—30th. A report had circulated, during the two previous days, that an under-secretary of state coming from London to notify the resolutions of the Ministers with respect to the Emperor, officially. Accordingly he appeared; it was Sir Charles Bunbury: he came on board, accompanied by Lord Keith, and delivered a dispatch ordering the removal of the Emperor to St. Helena, and limiting the number of persons who were to accompany Napoleon to three, excluding, however, the Duke de Rovigo and General Lallemand, comprised in the list of proscribed.
I was not called before the Emperor. The bearers of his sentence spoke and understood French; they were admitted alone. I have since heard that he objected and protested, with no less energy than logic, against the violence exercised on his person. “He was the guest of England,” said he, “and not her prisoner; he came of his own accord to place himself under the protection of her laws; the most sacred rights of hospitality were violated in his person; he would never submit voluntarily to the outrage with which they threatened him; violence alone should oblige him to do so, &c.”
The Emperor gave me the ministerial document to translate for him, of which the following is a copy:
COMMUNICATION MADE BY LORD KEITH, IN THE NAME OF THE ENGLISH MINISTERS.
“As it may, perhaps, be convenient for General Buonaparte to learn, without farther delay, the intentions of the British Government with regard to him, your Lordship will communicate the following information:
“It would be inconsistent with our duty towards our country and the allies of his Majesty, if General Buonaparte possessed the means of again disturbing the repose of Europe. It is on this account that it becomes absolutely necessary he should be restrained in his personal liberty, so far as this is required by the foregoing important object.
“The island of St. Helena has been chosen as his future residence; its climate is healthy, and its local position will allow of his being treated with more indulgence than could be admitted in any other spot, owing to the indispensable precautions which it would be necessary to employ for the security of his person.
“General Buonaparte is allowed to select amongst those persons who accompanied him to England (with the exception of Generals Savary and Lallemand) three officers, who, together with his surgeon, will have permission to accompany him to St. Helena; these individuals will not be allowed to quit the island without the sanction of the British Government.
“Rear-Admiral Sir George Cockburn, who is named Commander-in-chief at the Cape of Good Hope and seas adjacent, will convey General Buonaparte and his suite to St. Helena; and he will receive detailed instructions relative to the execution of this service.
“Sir G. Cockburn will, most probably, be ready to sail in a few days; for which reason it is desirable that General Buonaparte should make choice of the persons who are to accompany him without delay.”
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Although we expected our transportation to St. Helena, we were deeply affected by its announcement: it threw us all into a state of consternation. The Emperor did not, however, fail to appear on deck as usual, with the same countenance; and, as before, calmly surveyed the crowds which seemed so eager to see him.
31st.—Our situation had now become truly frightful; our sufferings beyond every power of description; our existence was about to cease with regard to Europe, our country, families, and friends, as well as our enjoyments and habits. It is true, we were not forced to follow the Emperor; but our choice was that of martyrs; the question was a renunciation of faith, or death. Another circumstance was added, which greatly increased our torments; this was the exclusion of Generals Savary and Lallemand, whom it struck with the utmost terror; they saw nothing but a scaffold before them, and felt persuaded that the Ministers of England, making no distinction between the political acts of a revolution, and crimes committed in a moment of tranquillity, would give them up to their enemies to be sacrificed. This would have been such an outrage on all law, such an opprobrium for England herself, that one might have been almost tempted to dare her to it: but it was only for those who were included in the same proscription to talk thus. At all events, we did not hesitate to desire that each of us might be amongst those whom the Emperor would choose; entertaining but one fear, that of finding ourselves excluded.
August 1st.—We still continued in the same state. I received a letter from London, in which it was strongly urged that I should be extremely wrong, nay that it would even be a crime to expatriate myself. The person who thus wrote also addressed Captain Maitland, begging he would assist by his efforts and counsel to dissuade me from such a resolution. But I stopped him short, by observing that, at my age, people generally acted on reflection.
I read the papers every day to the Emperor. Whether influenced by generosity, or that opinions began to be divided, there were two amongst the number that pleaded our cause with great warmth, compensating in some measure for the gross falsehoods and scurrilous abuse with which the others were filled. We gave ourselves up to the hope that the hatred inspired by an enemy would be succeeded by the interest which splendid
## actions ought naturally to excite; that England abounded in noble hearts
and elevated minds, which would indubitably become our ardent advocates.
The number of boats increased daily. Napoleon continued to appear at his usual hour, and the reception became more and more flattering.
Numbers of every rank and condition had followed the Emperor; he was still, with regard to most of us, as if at the Tuileries; the Grand Marshal and Duke de Rovigo alone saw him habitually. Some had not approached or spoken to him more frequently than if we had been at Paris. I was called during the day, whenever there were any papers or letters to translate, until the Emperor insensibly contracted the habit of sending for me every evening towards eight o’clock, to converse with him a short time.
In the conversation of this evening, and after touching on various other subjects, he asked me whether I would accompany him to St. Helena. I replied with the greatest frankness, rendered more easy by my real sentiments, observing to his Majesty that, in quitting Paris, I had disregarded every chance; and that therefore St. Helena had nothing which could make it an exception. There were, however, a great many of us round his person, while only three were permitted to go out. As some people considered it a crime in me to leave my family, it was necessary with regard to the latter, and my own conscience, to know that I could be useful and agreeable to him—that, in fact, I required to be chosen; but that this last observation did not spring from any concealed motive, for my life was henceforth at his disposal without any restriction.
While thus engaged, Madame Bertrand, without having been called, and even without announcing her name, rushed into the cabin, and in a frantic manner, entreated the Emperor not to go to St. Helena, nor take her husband with him. But observing the astonishment, coolness, and calm answer of Napoleon, she ran out as precipitately as she had entered. The Emperor, still surprised, turned to me and said, “Can you comprehend all this? Is she not mad?” A moment afterwards loud shrieks were heard, and every body seemed to be running towards the stern of the ship. Being desired to ring the bell, and to enquire the cause, I found that Madame Bertrand, on leaving the cabin, had attempted to throw herself into the sea, and was prevented with the greatest difficulty. From this scene it is easy to judge of our feelings!
REMARKABLE WORDS OF THE EMPEROR.
2d-3d. In the morning the Duke de Rovigo told me I was certainly to depart for St. Helena: while in conversation with the Emperor, a short time before, his Majesty had said to him that, if there were only two to accompany him, I should still be one of the number, as he thought I could afford him some consolation. I am indebted to the candour and kindness of the Duke for the satisfaction of being made acquainted with this flattering assurance, and am truly grateful, as, but for him, it would never have been known to me. The Emperor had not said a word in reply to my answer; this was his custom, as I shall have other opportunities of shewing.
I had no particular acquaintance with any of those who had followed the Emperor, excepting General and and Madame Bertrand, who had shewn me great attention during my mission to Illyria, where he was Governor-General. I had until then never spoken to the Duke de Rovigo, certain prepossessions having induced me to keep at a distance; we had, however, scarcely exchanged a few words, when my scruples were completely removed. Savary was sincerely attached to the Emperor; I knew he possessed warmth of heart, sincerity, and uprightness of character, qualities which rendered him susceptible of real friendship; we should, therefore, I dare say, have become very intimate.
I was again sent for by the Emperor; who, after alluding to different subjects, began to speak of St. Helena, asking me what sort of a place it could be; whether it was possible to exist there? and similar questions. “But,” said he, “after all, is it quite certain that I shall go there? Is a man dependent on others, when he wishes that his dependence should cease?”—We continued to walk to and fro in the cabin; he seemed calm, though affected, and somewhat absent.
“My friend,” continued the Emperor, “I have sometimes an idea of quitting you, and this would not be very difficult; it is only necessary to create a little mental excitement, and I shall soon have escaped.—All will be over, and you can then quietly rejoin your families. This is the more easy, since my internal principles do not oppose any bar to it:—I am one of those who conceive that the pains of the other world were only imagined as a counterpoise to those inadequate allurements which are offered to us there. God can never have willed such a contradiction to his infinite goodness, especially for an act of this kind; and what is it after all, but wishing to return to him a little sooner?”
I remonstrated warmly against such notions. Poets and philosophers had said that it was a spectacle worthy of the Divinity, to see men struggling with fortune: reverses and constancy had their glory. Such a great and noble character as his could not descend to the level of vulgar minds; he who had governed us with so much glory, who had excited the admiration, and influenced the destinies, of the world, could not end like a desperate gamester or a disappointed lover. What would then become of all those who looked up to and placed their hopes in him? Would he thus abandon the field to his enemies? The anxiety shewn by the latter to drive him to it was surely sufficient to make him resist: who could tell the secrets of time, or dare assert what the future would produce? What might not happen from the mere change of a ministry, the death of a Prince, that of a confidant, the slightest passion, or the most trifling dispute?
“Some of these suggestions have their weight,” said the Emperor, “but what can we do in that desolate place?”—“Sire,” I replied, “we will live on the past: there is enough in it to satisfy us. Do we not enjoy the life of Cæsar and that of Alexander? We shall possess still more, you will re-peruse yourself, Sire!” “Be it so!” rejoined Napoleon; “we will write our Memoirs. Yes, we must be employed; for occupation is the scythe of Time. After all, a man ought to fulfil his destinies; this is my grand doctrine:[8] let mine also be accomplished.” Re-assuming from this instant an air of ease and even gaiety, he passed on to subjects totally unconnected with our situation.
Footnote 8:
The following is a document which the above circumstance contributes to render still more precious: it is an order of the day, issued by the First Consul to his guard, against suicide.
_Order of the 22d Floreal, Year X._
“The Grenadier Gobain has committed suicide from love: he was in other respects an excellent soldier. This is the second incident of the same nature that has occurred in the corps within a month.
“The first Consul directs it to be inserted in the order-book of the Guard:—
“That a soldier ought to know how to vanquish the pangs and melancholy of the passions; that there is as much true courage in bearing up against mental sufferings with constancy, as in remaining firm on the wall of a battery.
“To give ourselves up to grief without resistance, or to kill ourselves to escape affliction, is to abandon the field of battle before the victory is gained.”
DEPARTURE FROM PLYMOUTH.—CONTINUANCE IN THE CHANNEL.—PROTEST.
4th.—Orders had arrived during the night for us to sail at an early hour; we set sail, which circumstance puzzled us much. The newspapers, official communications, and private conversations, told us we were to be conveyed to St. Helena by the Northumberland: we knew that this ship was still fitting out at Portsmouth or Chatham, so that we might still calculate on eight or ten days’ delay. The Bellerophon was too old for the voyage, she had not provisions enough; moreover the wind was contrary; when therefore we saw the ship returning up Channel, our uncertainty and conjectures were renewed, but whatever these might be, every thing was welcome when compared to the idea of transportation to St. Helena.
Nevertheless, it occurred to us that, in such a decisive moment, the Emperor was bound to shew a formal opposition to this violence; as to Napoleon himself, he attached but little importance to it, nor would he trouble himself about the matter. However, said we, it will be a weapon in the hands of our friends, and leave causes of remembrance as well as grounds of defence with the public. I ventured, therefore, to read a paper I had prepared to his Majesty, with the general sense of which he seemed pleased; after suppressing a few phrases, and correcting others, it was signed and sent to Lord Keith. The following is a literal copy of this document.
PROTEST.
“I hereby solemnly protest in the face of heaven and mankind, against the violence that is done me; and the violation of my most sacred rights, in forcibly disposing of my person and liberty. I voluntarily came on board the Bellerophon—I am not the prisoner, I am the guest of England. I came at the instigation of the Captain himself, who said he had orders from the Government to receive and convey me to England, together with my suite, if agreeable to me. I came forward with confidence to place myself under the protection of the laws of England. When once on board the Bellerophon, I was entitled to the hospitality of the British people. If the Government, in giving the Captain of the Bellerophon orders to receive me and my followers, only wished to lay a snare, it has forfeited its honour and disgraced its flag.
“If this act be consummated it will be in vain for the English henceforth to talk of their sincerity, their laws, and liberties. British faith will have been lost in the hospitality of the Bellerophon.
“I appeal to history: it will say that an enemy who made war for twenty years against the English people came spontaneously, in the hour of misfortune, to seek an asylum under their laws. What more striking proof could he give of his esteem and confidence? But how did England reply to such an act of magnanimity? It pretended to hold out a hospitable hand to this enemy; and, on giving himself up with confidence, he was immolated!
(Signed) “NAPOLEON.”
_Bellerophon at Sea,_ _Friday, Aug._ 4th, 1815.
The Duke de Rovigo told me that the Emperor had demanded permission to send me to the Prince Regent at London, but that it was obstinately refused.
The sea was rough, and the wind blew with violence. Most of us were affected with sea-sickness. But what cannot the pre-occupation of the mind effect over physical infirmities! This was perhaps the only time in my life that I was not incommoded by such weather. On leaving Plymouth Sound, we stood to the eastward before the wind, but were soon after close-hauled, tacking backwards and forwards, without being able to comprehend the cause of this new source of torment.
5th.—The whole of this day was passed in the same manner. While conversing with the Emperor in the evening he gave me two proofs of confidence, but I cannot now confide them to paper.[9]
Footnote 9:
There is, however, one of these proofs which I am now at liberty to disclose. While walking in the stern-gallery with the Emperor, at the usual hour, he drew from under his waistcoat, still conversing on a totally different subject, a species of girdle, which he handed to me, saying, “Take care of that for me;” without interrupting him, I placed it under my own waistcoat. The Emperor told me, soon after, that it contained a diamond necklace, worth two hundred thousand francs, which Queen Hortensia forced him to accept on his leaving Malmaison. After our arrival at St. Helena I frequently spoke of returning the necklace, but never received any reply. Having ventured to mention the subject again when we were at Longwood, Napoleon drily asked, “Does it annoy you?”—“No, Sire,” was my answer;—“Keep it then,” said he. From wearing the girdle so long, the necklace became as it were identified with my person; and I thought so little about it that it was not till some days after my being torn from Longwood, and by the merest accident, it recurred to my memory; when I shuddered at the idea of depriving the Emperor of such a resource. For how would it be possible now to make restitution? I was in the most rigorous confinement, surrounded by gaolers and sentinels, so that all communication was impracticable. I vainly endeavoured to contrive a plan; time pressed; only a few days were left, and nothing could be more distressing than thus to quit the island. In this predicament, I resolved to run all risks. An Englishman, to whom I had often spoken, came to the prison on a particular errand—and it was under the eyes of the Governor himself, or one of his most confidential agents whom he brought, that I ventured to communicate my wishes.
“I think you are a man of principle,” said I, “and I am going to put it to the test;—though with nothing injurious or contrary to your honour—merely a rich deposit to be restored to Napoleon. If you accept the charge, my son will put it into your pocket.”
He answered only by slackening his pace; my son, whom I had prepared for the scene, followed him, and the necklace was transferred into this man’s possession, almost in sight of the military attendants. Before quitting the island, I had the inexpressible satisfaction of knowing that the necklace had reached the hands of the Emperor. How gratifying to the heart are the recollection and recital of such a trait on the part of an enemy, and under such circumstances!
ANCHORED OFF START POINT.—PERSONS ALLOWED TO ACCOMPANY THE EMPEROR.
6th.—We anchored about noon off Start Point, where there was no shelter whatever, though we had but a very short distance to go in order to anchor in Torbay: this circumstance excited great astonishment on our part. We had, however, heard that orders were given to meet the Northumberland, the departure of which vessel from Portsmouth was urged with all possible haste. Accordingly that ship soon appeared with two frigates full of troops, which were to compose the garrison of St. Helena. These three ships anchored close to us; after which the communications amongst the whole squadron became very active. The precautions to prevent the approach of boats were still continued. Meanwhile the mystery of our precipitate sailing from Plymouth, and all the manœuvring that followed, was discovered. Lord Keith had, we were told, received notice, by telegraph, that a public officer had just left London with a writ of _habeas corpus_, to claim the person of the Emperor in the name of the laws or of some competent tribunal. We could neither ascertain the motives nor details of this circumstance: the Admiral, it was added, had scarcely time enough to escape this difficulty; we heard that he was suddenly obliged to go on board a brig, and quit Plymouth Sound. This was the motive which kept us out of Torbay.