Being sent into exile
Trying to make the best of it
Playing the politics of exile
Generating controversy even in death
A fter Napoleon’s defeat at the Battle of Waterloo (see Chapter 15), he made his way to the small island of Aix on the Atlantic coast of France. There, he considered his options, which included trying to escape to the United States. In the end, he decided to surrender to the British ships that were trying to blockade the bay.
He wrote to the Prince Regent (the son of the king, who was really running the show in England at that time) asking to be allowed to retire peacefully to England. This was a common thing to do, and Napoleon could have lived out the rest of his life as a country gentleman. But too many people still feared Napoleon, so instead he was sent to the remote island of St. Helena off the coast of southern Africa, a thousand miles from nowhere.
A lot of people felt that the British treated Napoleon miserably and should have allowed him to retire to England like other former heads of governments. The British refusal to grant to Napoleon what was typically granted to other deposed heads of state enraged Napoleon and his entourage, along with many other people of the day, and has for almost 200 years been a black mark against the British government of that time.
In this chapter, I briefly describe the process of sending Napoleon to the island, and then I tell you a bit about his life there. I discuss the controversy surrounding his death and tell you of his ultimate fate.
In July 1815, Napoleon sent negotiators to Captain Frederick Maitland of the HMS Bellerophon to secure an agreement that Napoleon would be treated properly and sent to England. They also negotiated how many of his entourage could join him. Maitland was not authorized to make any promises as to Napoleon’s ultimate fate, but his respectful treatment of the French was encouraging, and eventually Napoleon decided that he had little choice but to essentially throw himself on England’s mercy. (I’d have advised him to come to the United States instead. Imagine how fascinating his time here may have been. Can you say “Senator Bonaparte”?)
The Bellerophon sailed to England and weighed anchor in Plymouth. Almost immediately, the harbor was filled with people anxious to get a glimpse of their hated enemy, the Ogre of Corsica. Napoleon seemed to enjoy this attention and would often walk about on deck where he could be seen by one and all.
Figure 16-1: This period engraving shows Napoleon boarding the Bellerophon and is based on a description given by someone who was there. |
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Nor were they willing to then fall back on First Consul Bonaparte, the title he held before becoming emperor. That would have still acknowledged the fact that he had been head of state, which they were not willing to do. They decided instead to call him General, as though 15 years of ruling France meant nothing. While they were at it, they reverted to the Italian spelling of his last name, Buonaparte. Another unnecessary insult.
Now that he was a general, he was to be considered a prisoner of war. But wait! Under the rules of those days, officers were released on parole and allowed to live in certain communities until the end of hostilities. Napoleon had asked to do just that, and as an officer POW it should have been a no-brainer. But the Brits were not interested in having him on their islands.
There was another glaring inconsistency in all of this. If Napoleon was a POW, why wasn’t he released at the end of hostilities? That’s what happens to POWs, officers, and enlisted men alike. Everyone, it seems, but General Buonaparte. It was not England’s finest hour.
The decision to send Napoleon to St. Helena was not made without some serious consideration. There was considerable risk that the party in power may be seen as cruel and as having betrayed Napoleon who, after all, had thrown himself on their mercy. (Some mercy!) British politics was such that there was a sizable block of politicians and their supporters that thought Napoleon should have been allowed to immigrate to Great Britain and live the life of a retired country nobleman.
But in the end, the British government decided that the only way it could be certain of keeping Napoleon out of European politics — and providing for his personal safety — was to send him into distant exile on the island of St. Helena. When Napoleon was told of the decision, he was predictably furious and made his feelings quite clear both verbally and in writing. But by then, it was too late: His fate was sealed.
On August 5, 1815, Napoleon and his entourage were transferred to HMS Northumberland, commanded by Rear Admiral Sir George Cockburn. They quickly set sail for the 67-day journey to St. Helena. Napoleon had with him an interesting assortment of people:
General Henri-Gatien Bertrand, the 42-year-old Grand Marshal of the Palace (the person in charge of, among other things, Napoleon’s schedule), along with his wife, Fanny, and their three children: Bertrand had been with Napoleon on many campaigns and had served him on Elba. His wife was less than thrilled with the thought of going to St. Helena, but Napoleon really liked Bertrand, and his presence was much appreciated.
Count
Charles Tristan Montholon, and his wife, Albine, and their youngest son: The 33-year-old Montholon was a bit of an oddity. He had been a royalist who rallied to Napoleon, but his career had not been distinguished, and he was constantly in debt. Most people were surprised that he went to St. Helena, and he figures prominently in the controversy over Napoleon’s death. Albine also figures prominently, but in a far different way. Napoleon, not surprisingly, became lonely for female companionship, and Albine was quite willing to fill that role as long as she was on the island.
General Baron Gaspar Gourgaud: The 32-year-old Gourgaud had served Napoleon as an orderly officer since 1811 and was promoted to brigadier general at Waterloo. He had been Napoleon’s chief negotiator with Maitland and would write important memoirs on St. Helena.
Marquis Emmanuel-August-Dieudonné, de Las Cases: Las Cases had immigrated to England after the French Revolution and lived there for ten years, becoming fluent in English. When Napoleon declared a general amnesty for exiled nobles, Las Cases returned and became a respected politician. Now 49, his knowledge of English was invaluable to Napoleon. His goal all along seems to have been to get rich by writing memoirs of his time on St. Helena, and he was quite successful in doing just that.
Barry Edward O’Meara: O’Meara was an Irishman serving as the British naval surgeon on board the Bellerophon. Napoleon had enjoyed his company, especially because O’Meara was fluent in Napoleon’s native tongue, Italian. When the French doctor originally expected to join Napoleon in exile backed out, Napoleon requested O’Meara, and the British were all too pleased to have one of their own as his physician. Their pleasure was lessened when O’Meara got too close to Napoleon, and within three years O’Meara was drummed out of the service. He had the last laugh, though, as his memoirs raced through several editions in no time at all, generating a great deal of sympathy for Napoleon’s plight.
First valet Louis-Joseph Marchand, maître d’hôtel (butler) Cipriani Franceschi, and second valet Louis Etienne St. Denis (known as Ali): All three wrote memoirs of their time on St. Helena. They helped run a staff of eight additional members in various positions.
The voyage was generally uneventful, even boring. Napoleon was treated with great respect and got along fine with Cockburn and the other officers. He played cards, discussed politics, and got a fair amount of exercise. At dinner, he sat at the head of the admiral’s table.
Napoleon arrived at St. Helena on October 15, 1815 and spent his first night in the town of Jamestown, the only town on the small island. Did I say small island? It was all of 10 miles long and never more than 61/2 miles wide. Three sides of the island were cliffs, and the harbor was well defended. You could see any ship arriving as far away as 60 miles. England was over 4,000 miles away, the African coast was 1,200 miles distant, and Ascension Island was a mere 700 miles distant. A more perfect island prison could not be imagined. Plus, there was a large military garrison already there (in anticipation of Napoleon’s arrival), with more arriving on Napoleon’s ship.
There was absolutely no way that Napoleon could escape from this island. And yet, the British, with the concurrence of the allies (who sent commissioners to the island to keep an eye on things), placed many restrictions on Napoleon’s movement — restrictions that just kept getting worse all the time. He was watched all the time, his mail was censored, and his visitors were screened.
Napoleon wasn’t even given great living quarters. His jailors decided that he would live in Longwood House, which was in ill repair and sat on perhaps the worst piece of ground on the island. No trees protected it from the sun and the bitter winds that swept across the plateau. There were other homes that would have been much more suitable for the former emperor, but Longwood it would be.
Now, I know what you are saying: “But he was a prisoner, after all, of course he didn’t get the best house.” But remember, he was a former emperor, and other heads of state who had fallen on tough times were given far better treatment. Plus, Napoleon was a prisoner whose only “crime” had been to lose! Even captured French officers were given better treatment than he was: They were allowed to return home to their families.
Despite the circumstances, Napoleon spent a few weeks actually enjoying his stay on St. Helena. While Longwood was being prepared, Napoleon was expected to stay in Jamestown. But he hated the place and was anxious for other quarters. He visited William Balcombe and his family at their home, known as the Briars, and found them to be very nice company. He especially enjoyed Balcombe’s 14-year-old daughter, Betsy. Balcombe was superintendent of public sales for the East India Company and partner in a firm that served as purveyor to the ships in the harbor. As such, he was able to live a good life on the island.
As it happened, there was another house on the Balcombe property. It was really more of a pavilion, but it suited Napoleon just fine. All were in agreement, and Napoleon moved right in. The local military engineers provided an additional structure to serve as a dining hall and Napoleon’s study.
For the next two months, Napoleon lived a reasonably content life. Betsy loved to play tricks on him, and the two of them became quite the pair, with Napoleon playing the role of the kindly uncle and Betsy the mischievous niece. She could barge in on Napoleon just about anytime she pleased, and Napoleon always seemed to enjoy her company.
On December 10, Napoleon and his group moved, with great ceremony, to his new quarters at Longwood. It was the beginning of a long and bitter end to Napoleon’s life.
Napoleon and Admiral Cockburn had been on good terms on the trip to St. Helena, but now that Cockburn was serving as governor of the island, the relationship began to sour. Napoleon resented the tight restrictions under which he lived, and he resented the condition and location of Longwood. The repairs and additions to the house had been inadequate and poorly done. The house was leaky and drafty, and with the ever-present guards, Napoleon had little in the way of privacy.
Still, for a time Napoleon attempted to make the best of it. He would exercise by taking long walks or by going riding. He held court as best he could, especially at his formal dinners. He received numerous guests, whose later descriptions of their visits often make good reading.
Napoleon would sometimes dictate his memoirs to Las Cases, Gourgaud, or others, and he would engage in long conversations about any number of topics. He continued to study English. Evening entertainment often included playing cards, readings plays, or listening to Albine Montholon sing. (Of course, some evenings she did more than sing for Napoleon.)
Napoleon soon tired of the petty rivalries that were forming in his little band of followers. Each one was jealous of the other, each one convinced that someone else was getting an unfair share of Napoleon’s time. Thus, as on the trip over, Napoleon often avoided spending too much time with them. He did enjoy his time with the British officers stationed there, and they were in turn fascinated to be talking with this man, who was England’s greatest adversary for so many years.
Slowly but surely, the British improved some of his physical conditions with the arrival of better furnishings. Some restrictions were removed — for a time, at least, Napoleon had the run of the island. But things didn’t stay that way for long.
In April 1816, the British sent a new governor to the island. Sir Hudson Lowe was a career officer who had served in numerous campaigns with little distinction but with honor (see Figure 16-2). He made his name as someone who was quite good at following orders right down to the smallest detail, with no wiggle room allowed. This characteristic made him an ideal candidate for some posts and a disastrous candidate for this one.
Not that he didn’t make some effort. Lowe’s first meetings with Napoleon were cordial, which was helped by the fact that both men spoke Italian. He agreed to build Napoleon a new house elsewhere on the island, to repair Longwood in the meantime, and to allow Napoleon full use of his (Lowe’s) extensive library.
Unfortunately, Lowe also made it clear that not only would he not reduce any of the restrictions on Napoleon’s movements, but they were likely to get worse (see Figure 16-3). Indeed, Lowe revoked some of the relaxations that Cockburn had granted, including the right for Napoleon to receive any visitors and to travel wherever he wished on the island. The new house was to be built very near the old one. Even in sending books to Napoleon, Lowe was often petty, being careful to send some that were very critical of Napoleon.
Figure 16-2: An early engraving of a rather stern looking Sir Hudson Lowe. |
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Figure 16-3: This engraving by Currier nicely illustrates Napoleon’s isolation on St. Helena. |
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In short, it soon became clear that Sir Hudson Lowe was determined to make life miserable for Napoleon. While Napoleon could certainly be petty in his own right, he could not hold a candle to Lowe in that department, and it is difficult to imagine what Napoleon could have done to make Lowe act any differently.
Meanwhile, the pettiness of Napoleon’s staff had reached a boiling point. Montholon and Gourgaud were very jealous of Las Cases (see Figure 16-4), who had become one of Napoleon’s favorites. Las Cases and Napoleon spent hours together, with Napoleon dictating an incredible number of pages of memoirs. Napoleon also greatly enjoyed the company of Las Cases’s son, Emmanuel.
Figure 16-4: A period engraving showing Las Cases, one of the people most responsible for the Napoleonic legend. |
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Las Cases soon got fed up with the pettiness and contrived to get himself deported. The authorities took his notes of Napoleon’s dictation, but when he finally reached Europe, he rewrote them all from memory. Entitled Memorial de Sainte-Hélène, they soon became a bestseller, and Las Cases became rich. Translated into several languages, they present a very sympathetic view of Napoleon.
Napoleon’s medical care on St. Helena was evidence of the petty nature of his exile. His first doctor was the Irishman Barry O’Meara. He and Napoleon got along great — too great for Sir Hudson Lowe, who was suspicious of anyone who showed a favorable attitude toward Napoleon.
O’Meara could see that his patient was beginning to slide into ill health and encouraged him to get more exercise. That is a tough sell to most of us, let alone to a person who is required to be escorted by an armed guard wherever he goes. Not long after Lowe’s arrival, Napoleon pretty much stopped taking the nice long walks and rides that had helped keep him in decent physical — and mental — condition.
Napoleon’s situation deteriorated in several ways:
In an amazing turn of events, the British decided that Napoleon should help pay for his imprisonment. Napoleon fired back by selling some silver, which humiliated the British into rescinding the policy. The image of the former emperor forced to sell his silver to pay for his own confinement was just too much for the British people to take, and the government feared a political backlash, or, at the very least, an abusive media blitz.
In 1818, Napoleon lost his trusted servant Cipriani Franceschi to a suspicious death.
The Balcombes left in March 1818, having been more or less forced out by Lowe’s jealousy of their closeness to Napoleon.
In August 1818, Barry O’Meara was court-martialed and forced to leave the island. Napoleon had liked and trusted his doctor, and his departure was a major blow.
Lowe and the British understood the importance of having a good doctor for Napoleon. It would do the British no good to have the world thinking that the British were trying to kill off Napoleon, or giving him inadequate healthcare. So Lowe turned to the best medical man on the island, an Irish doctor named James Verling (see Figure 16-5).
Figure 16-5: Dr. James Verling was probably the best doctor on the island but was never able to treat Napoleon. |
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Napoleon would probably have been willing to see Verling if he had agreed to be his personal doctor and not make his medical condition known to the British superiors. But Verling refused (no doubt noticing what had happened to O’Meara for doing just that). Napoleon would not see any doctor appointed by and reporting his condition to Sir Hudson Lowe, so he never saw Verling. Napoleon’s staff did, and encouraged Napoleon to do so as well, but Napoleon refused.
Verling wrote a daily journal while he was involved with Napoleon, and it makes for some very interesting reading. You can see the pettiness on all sides and have great sympathy for Verling, who was stuck in the middle. (My book Napoleon and Dr. Verling on St. Helena [Pen and Sword] includes the entire journal and important related letters between some of the principle players in the soap opera of St. Helena.)
Verling and O’Meara weren’t the only doctors to have to deal with this tricky situation. In January 1819, Napoleon fainted. Because Napoleon wouldn’t see Verling, Lowe sent Dr. John Stokoe to attend to him. The two men hit it off, and Stokoe agreed to be Napoleon’s personal physician. For Stokoe’s efforts, Lowe had him court-marshaled and drummed out of the service.
Napoleon’s last doctor was sent to the island by Napoleon’s family. His name was Francesco Antommarchi, and he arrived in late 1819. Unfortunately, he was grossly incompetent. Napoleon knew it and had little use for him. Still, at least he was somewhat useful: He convinced Napoleon to take up gardening, which got Napoleon outside and in some mode of exercise. Napoleon’s health and attitude improved, and for a time it looked like he might recover completely and get into something resembling a normal life (for those circumstances, anyway). Alas, it wasn’t to be.
For the next year and a half, Napoleon’s health continued to slide. Every time he seemed to get better, he would suffer yet another decline. Napoleon knew he had little time left. He prepared a will, destroyed it, and prepared another. He suffered extremely sharp pains in his sides and could not keep food down.
As the end drew near, he added more to his will and prepared to die. The end came a little before 6 p.m. on May 5, 1821. Napoleon had been one of the most powerful men in history, but he died on an obscure little island far from his family, surrounded by a small group of friends and servants. He was only 51 years old.
Even in death, the pettiness continued. Lowe decreed that Napoleon would be buried in Geranium Valley, where Napoleon used to enjoy some quiet solitude. So far, so good. But what to put on the gravestone? Napoleon’s followers wanted Emperor Napoleon, but even a dead Napoleon would be called Napoleon Buonaparte or nothing at all. Nothing it would be: Napoleon was buried in an unmarked grave.
On May 9, a solemn procession of British soldiers and Napoleon’s followers took Napoleon’s casket down the long path to his resting place. Lowe had pulled out all the stops; no one would ever accuse him of not giving Napoleon a decent burial. He had been placed in a tin coffin, which was placed inside a mahogany coffin, which was placed inside a lead coffin, which was then placed inside another mahogany coffin.
Bands played funereal music; the local artillery and the ships in the harbor fired salutes. Napoleon was finally lowered into a concrete grave, covered by a large stone cemented into place. A permanent guard was stationed at the grave. Louis-Joseph Marchand wrote that the scene was “overwhelming in its sorrow and grief,” but the French writer François René de Châteaubriand commented that Napoleon was buried by the British “as though they feared that he could never be sufficiently imprisoned” (see Figure 16-6). That phrase sums up the whole St. Helena experience.
Figure 16-6: This engraving shows the “Shade [ghost or spirit] of Napoleon” at his tomb on St. Helena. Can you see it between the trees? |
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One of the most intriguing controversies of Napoleon’s life is the question of the cause of his death. Antommarchi performed the autopsy under the watchful eyes of seven British doctors and several others. There was general agreement that he likely died of some tumors and ulcers on the stomach. Not everyone agreed on all aspects of the autopsy, however, and its honesty remains in some question yet today.
But the biggest question to be raised regarding Napoleon’s death has to do with the possibility that he was poisoned. The biggest proponent of that theory is Ben Weider of Montreal, Canada. Weider is a successful businessman who made his name in bodybuilding and has received numerous honors and awards, including the French Legion of Honor, the Canadian Medal of Honor, and a nomination for the Nobel Peace Prize. (As a matter of full disclosure, I should tell you that he is also the founder and president of the International Napoleonic Society, of which I am Executive Vice-President and Editor-in-Chief. He is also a longtime friend.)
Weider has studied the memoirs of all the people on St. Helena and has had various tests done on strands of Napoleon’s hair, including by the U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI). These tests show the presence of segments of arsenic that are consistent with the possibility of periodic ingestion. In other words, someone could have been periodically giving Napoleon the poison.
This arsenic would weaken Napoleon, making it look like the climate was slowly doing him in. Then, at the critical moment, the poisoner would administer other substances that would become toxic and kill Napoleon. This method of poisoning was common for the time, and the autopsy results showed conditions that could lead to the conclusion that this is what happened.
The obvious question here is just who would want Napoleon dead. When James Bond asked that question of his director, M, the reply was a classic, along the lines of “jealous husbands, outraged chefs, the list is endless.” Well, the list isn’t quite endless when it comes to Napoleon. The obvious answer would be the British, but they actually stood to gain from having Napoleon alive. He was a good foil to use against the new French monarch Louis XVIII should he prove uncooperative. Besides, the Brits didn’t want to be blamed for Napoleon’s death; they were much too civilized for that.
Weider believes, and it makes good sense, that if anyone wanted Napoleon dead it would be the French. If anyone stood to lose from Napoleon’s possible return, it would be that very same Louis XVIII. Napoleon unleashed could cause a civil war or a coup, neither of which suited Louis.
Weider also believes that the culprit was Count Montholon. He was in charge of the wine, which could easily have been used as the method of poisoning. Montholon had a questionable past, and Napoleon had left him more money than anyone else, despite the fact that others had been much closer to Napoleon before the exile.
There is much more to the story, of course, but this summary gives a good idea of what the controversy is all about. And controversy it is, with most French scholars appalled at the idea of one of their own killing one of France’s greatest leaders, while Brits and Americans often seem to find some credibility in the theory. For my part, I think it makes sense, but the only way to be absolutely sure would likely be to exhume Napoleon’s body and run tests. Like that’s going to happen!
Napoleon’s body was exhumed once. In July 1840, King Louis Philippe of France sent his son to St. Helena to retrieve Napoleon’s body. Henri-Gatien Bertrand and Louis-Joseph Marchand were along; Napoleon was finally to come home. When they opened the coffin, his body was as it had been the day he was buried. The body was returned to France (see Figure 16-7) and then made a slow trip up the Seine River to Paris. Along the route, thousands stood in silent tribute. Church bells rang, cannon fired salutes. Marshals and members of the Old Guard (the oldest of Napoleon’s elite fighting force) paid their respects.
On December 15, 1840, the casket moved slowly down the Champs-Elysées, under the Arc de Triomphe to Les Invalides, its final resting place. The day was bitter cold, but thousands lined the streets in homage to their former emperor. The king’s son, the Prince de Joinville, followed the casket, and behind him were thousands of Napoleon’s Old Guard. The ceremony was conducted by the king himself. Afterwards, countless thousands filed past the emperor’s casket as he lay in state.
Finally, in 1861, Napoleon was laid to his final rest under the Dome of Les Invalides, as he had requested in his will: He wanted to be “on the banks of the Seine, amongst the French people whom I have loved so well.” His tomb is without doubt the grandest I have ever seen.
Figure 16-7: This wood snuffbox, carved in 1840, shows Napoleon being brought back from St. Helena. |
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