Napoleon appeals in vain to the Chambers--Abdicates for the second
time--Is sent to Malmaison--And then to Rochefort--Negotiates with
Capt. Maitland--Embarks in the _Bellerophon_--Arrives at
Torbay--Decision of the English Government--Interview with Lord
Keith, &c.--Napoleon on board the _Northumberland_--Sails for St.
Helena.
On how sandy a foundation the exile of Elba had rebuilt the semblance of
his ancient authority, a few hours of adversity were more than
sufficient to show. He was still consulting with his ministers (even
they were not all his friends) on the morning of the 21st, in what
manner he ought to inform the Chambers of his great misfortune, and what
assistance he should demand, when the news reached the _Elysee_, that
both the assemblies had met as soon as the story of Waterloo transpired,
and passed a series of resolutions, one of which declared the state to
be in danger--and another, _their_ sittings _permanent_; in other words,
proclaimed his reign to be at an end. If anything could have been wanted
to complete Napoleon's conviction that the army had elevated him in
opposition to the nation--it must have been found in the fact that the
funds rose rapidly from the moment in which it was known in Paris that
the army was ruined. They went on to tell him that the Chambers were
debating on the means of defending Paris. "Ah," said he--deeply feeling
in what loss all had been lost to him--"Ah, could they but defend them
like my Old Guard!"
If Napoleon had listened to the advice of his brother Lucien, and the
few who really considered their own fortunes as irrevocably bound up
with his, he would have instantly put himself at the head of 6000 of the
Imperial Guard, who were then in the capital, and dissolved the
unfriendly senate of Paris, on the 21st of June, as unceremoniously as
he had that of St. Cloud on the 19th of Brumaire. Lucien said ever
after, that, "the smoke of Mont St. Jean had turned his brain." He
certainly gave what remained of the day to vacillation. Late in the
evening he held a council, to which the presidents and vice-presidents
of both Chambers were admitted. In their presence La Fayette signified
that nothing could be done until _a great sacrifice_ had been made.
Maret answered with fierceness; called for severe measures against the
royalists and the disaffected. "Had such been resorted to earlier,"
cried he, "one who hears me would not be smiling at the misfortunes of
France, and Wellington would not be marching on Paris." This strong
allusion to Fouche suited not the temper of the moment. Maret was
murmured down; and Carnot himself is said to have shed tears, when he
perceived that the abdication was judged necessary. That ancient
democrat had indeed just consented to be a count; but he enjoys
apparently the credit of having acted on this occasion as a good
Frenchman. He saw, say even the anti-Buonapartist historians, that
France was invaded, and the same feelings which made him offer his own
sword in December, 1813, urged him now to oppose any measure which must
deprive his country of the military talents of Napoleon. The Emperor
heard all in silence--and broke up the meeting without having come to
any decision.
Early next morning the Chambers again met, and the necessity of the
Emperor's abdication was on the point of being put to the vote--when
Fouche appeared, and saved them that trouble by producing the following
proclamation. "To the French people ":
_Frenchmen! In commencing war for the maintenance of the national
independence, I relied on the union of all efforts, all wills, and
all authorities. I had reason to hope for success, and I braved all
the declarations of the powers against me. Circumstances appear to
be changed. I offer myself as a sacrifice to the hatred of the
enemies of France. May they prove sincere in their declarations,
and to have aimed only at me! My political life is ended; and I
proclaim my son, Napoleon II., Emperor of the French. Unite for the
public safety, if you would remain an independent nation.--Done at
the palace Elysee, June the 22nd,1815.--_
NAPOLEON.
The debate which followed the production of this act in either house,
but especially in that of the Peers, was violent. In the latter, Carnot,
having received some grossly exaggerated accounts of the force and
success of Grouchy, endeavoured to persuade the assembly, that that
marshal must have ere then added 60,000 men at Laon to Soult and the
relics of Waterloo, and so formed an army capable, under fit guidance,
of even yet effectually retrieving the affairs of France. But Ney had
arrived in Paris the same morning, and this speech called up the man
who, if any single energies could have done so, would have saved the day
at Waterloo. "Grouchy," said he, "cannot have more than 20--at most
25,000--men; and as to Soult--I myself commanded the guard in the last
assault--I did not leave the field until they were exterminated. Be
assured there is but one course--negotiate, and recall the Bourbons. In
their return I see nothing but the certainty of being shot as a
deserter. I shall seek all I have henceforth to hope for in America.
Take you the only course that remains for France."
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 Elysee, 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 Fouche, 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. Fouche'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, Fouche, 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 Fouche 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 Fouche 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.
Fouche, 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.
_Rochefort, July_ THE 13TH, 1815
_"Royal Highness,_
_"A victim to the factions which divide my country, and to the
hostility of the greatest Powers of Europe, I have terminated my
political career, and come, like Themistocles, to seat myself on
the hearth of the British people. I put myself under the protection
of their laws, which I claim from your Royal Highness as the most
powerful, the most constant, and the most generous of my enemies._
NAPOLEON."
Maitland sent on Gourgaud in the _Slaney_ with this letter; and having
once more addressed Las Cazes in these words "You will recollect that I
am not authorised to stipulate as to the reception of Buonaparte in
England, but that he must consider himself as entirely at the disposal
of His Royal Highness the Prince Regent"--prepared his ship for the
reception of the fallen Emperor.
On the 15th the _Epervier_ brig brought him out of the Aix roads; but
wind and tide being unfavourable, Maitland sent the barge of the
_Bellerophon_ to transport him to the ship. The officers and most of the
crew of the _Epervier_ saw him depart, with tears in their eyes, and
continued to cheer him as long as their voices could be heard. Captain
Maitland received him respectfully, but without any salute or
distinguished honours. Napoleon uncovered himself on reaching the
quarter-deck, and said in a firm tone of voice, "I come to place myself
under the protection of your prince and laws."
On board the _Bellerophon_, as before in the _Undaunted_, Buonaparte
made himself very popular among both officers and crew. He examined
everything--praised everything--extolled the English nation--above all,
the English navy--and even admitted that the Duke of Wellington, "equal
to himself in all other military qualities, was superior in prudence."
On the 23rd they passed Ushant, and Napoleon gazed long and
mournfully--and for the last time--on the coast of France. On the 24th
the _Bellerophon_ entered Torbay, and Maitland was instantly admonished
to permit no communication of any kind between his ship and the coast.
On the 26th Maitland was ordered round to Plymouth Sound: and the
arrival of Buonaparte having by this time transpired, the ship was
instantly surrounded by swarms of boats, filled with persons whose
curiosity nothing could repress. There was considerable difficulty in
keeping the ship itself clear of these eager multitudes. Napoleon
appeared on the deck, was greeted with huzzas, and bowed and smiled in
return.
On the 31st of July, Sir H. Bunbury, under-secretary of state, and Lord
Keith, admiral of the Channel fleet, repaired on board the
_Bellerophon_, and announced the final resolution of the British
government: namely, 1st, that _General Buonaparte_ should not be landed
in England, but removed forthwith to St. Helena, as being the situation
in which, more than any other at their command, the government thought
security against a second escape, and the indulgence to himself of
personal freedom and exercise, might be reconciled; 2ndly, that, with
the exception of Savary and L'Allemand, he might take with him any three
officers he chose, as also his surgeon, and twelve domestics.
This letter was read in French by Sir Henry Bunbury. Napoleon listened
without look or gesture of impatience or surprise. Being then asked if
he had anything to reply, he with perfect calmness of voice and manner
protested against the orders to which he had been listening, and against
the right claimed by the English Government to dispose of him as a
prisoner of war. "I came into your ship," said he, "as I would into one
of your villages. If I had been told I was to be a prisoner, I would not
have come." He then expatiated at great length on the title given
him--General Buonaparte--and on the right which he had to be considered
as a sovereign prince; he was, he said, three months before, as much
Emperor of Elba as Louis was King of France, and, by invading another
monarch's dominions, could not have forfeited his own rank as a monarch.
He next adverted to the ignoble attitude in which England would place
herself in the eyes of the world by abusing his confidence--hinted that
either his father-in-law or the Czar would have treated him far
differently--and concluded by expressing his belief that the climate and
confinement of St. Helena would kill him, and his resolution, therefore,
not to go to St. Helena. By what means he designed to resist the command
of the English government, Napoleon did not say: there can be no doubt
he meant Lord Keith and Sir H. Bunbury to understand, that, rather than
submit to the voyage in question, he would commit suicide; and what he
thus hinted, was soon expressed distinctly, with all the accompaniments
of tears and passion, by two French ladies on board the
_Bellerophon_--Madame Bertrand and Madame Montholon. But all this
appears to have been set down, from the beginning, exactly for what it
was worth. He who had chosen to outlive Krasnoi, and Leipzig, and
Montmartre, and Waterloo, was not likely to die by his own hand in the
_Bellerophon_. We desire not to be considered as insinuating, according
to the custom of many, that Napoleon ought to have rushed voluntarily
on some English bayonet, when the fate of the 18th of June could no
longer be doubtful. Laying all religious and moral obligations out of
view (as probably he did), Napoleon himself said truly, that "if Marius
had fallen on his sword amidst the marches of Minturnae, he would never
have enjoyed his 7th consulate." No man ever more heartily than Napoleon
approved the old maxim, that while there is life there is hope; and, far
from thinking seriously at any time of putting an end to his own days,
we must doubt if, between his abdication at the Elysee and the time
wherein he felt the immediate approach of death, there occurred one day,
or even one hour, in which some hope or scheme of recovering his
fortunes did not agitate his mind.
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 Valencay.
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
L4000, 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."