The Tragedy of St. Helena Part 3

This episode was brought to a close by the Emperor directing that a kind letter should be written to the enterprising sailor, and that a draft for __300 should be enclosed. O'Meara says, "By means of some unworthy trick he did not receive it for nearly two years."

The reason so much is made of the bust affair is accounted for as follows:--

Lowe, on first hearing of it being landed, intended to have it seized and thrown into the sea. He afterwards took possession of the article, with the idea of making Napoleon a present of it himself. This idea did not pan out as he expected, and in consequence of public indignation running so high, he had the bust sent to Longwood immediately after his conversation with Bertrand. While Las Cases was waiting at Mannheim in the hope that the pathetic appeals he had made to the sovereigns on behalf of Napoleon would bring to him a favourable decision, the Dalmatian gunner heard of him. He was pa.s.sing through Germany to his home after a fruitless attempt in London to get the money Napoleon had enclosed in his letter. The reason given was that the persons on whom it was drawn were not then in possession of the necessary funds. Las Cases paid him, and received his appropriate blessings for his goodness. Imprecations against Lowe were lavishly bestowed by the gunner. He had been prevented from landing at St.

Helena on his way back from India, and but for this spiteful act of Lowe's the money would have been paid at once.

Meanwhile the touching appeals of Las Cases to the sovereigns were unheeded. Even Napoleon's father-in-law, the Emperor of Austria, who had given his daughter in marriage to the arbiter of Europe, did not deign to reply, though only a brief time before he had received many tokens of magnanimity from the French Emperor. So, indeed, had other kings and queens of that time, not excluding Alexander of Russia; but more hereafter about these monarchs who had once clamoured for the honour of alliances with Napoleon and with his family, but who now were conspirators in the act of a great a.s.sa.s.sination.

Some three years before, Lord Keith was horrified when Captain Maitland informed him on board the _Bellerophon_, in Torbay, that the Duke of Rovigo, Lallemand, Montholon, and Gourgaud had said that their Emperor would not go to St. Helena, and if he were to consent, they would prevent it, meaning that they would end his existence rather than witness any further degradation of him. Lord Keith is indignant, and replies to Sir Frederick Maitland, "You may tell those gentlemen who have threatened to be Bonaparte'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." Precisely!

The n.o.ble lord's fascinating little speech is quite in accord with justice, but did _he_ ever raise a finger to prevent his colleagues and their renowned deputy from committing the same crime at St.

Helena, and after this same Bonaparte's demise, were any steps taken to call to account those whom the great soldier had consistently declared were causing his premature death? Lord Keith, with his eyes uplifted to heaven, had said, "England awards death to murderers," and in this we are agreed, but there must be no fine distinction drawn as to who the perpetrators are or their reason for doing it. Whether a person for humanity's sake is despatched by a friendly pistol-shot or the process of six years of refined cruelty, the crime is the same, the only difference being (if life has to be taken) that it is more merciful it should be done expeditiously.

The French revered their Emperor, and could not bear to witness his dire humiliation at the hands of men so infinitely his inferiors, hence the thought of unlawfully ending his existence. On the other hand, members of the British Government were swollen out with haughty righteousness; they regarded themselves as deputies of the Omnipotent.

They determined in solemn conclave that the man against whom they had waged war for twenty years, and who was only now beaten by a combination of circ.u.mstances, should be put through the ordeal of an inquisition. If he held out long, well and good, but should he succ.u.mb to their benign treatment, their faith would be steadfast in their own blamelessness. They were quite unconscious of being an unspeakable brood of hollow, heartless mediocrities. Why did Lord Keith not give _them_, as he did the devoted Frenchmen, a little sermon on the orthodoxy of the gallows? They were far more in need of his guiding influence.

The British public were deceived by the most malevolent publications.

The great captive was made to appear so dangerous an animal that neither soldiers nor sailors could keep him in subjection, and the stories of his misdeeds when at the height of his ravishing glory were spread broadcast everywhere. Nothing, indeed, was base enough for the oligarchy of England and the French Royalists to stoop to.

For a time the flow of wickedness went on unchecked. At last a few good men and women began to speak out the truth, and as though Nature revolted against the scoundrelism that had been and was now being perpetrated, a sharp and swelling reaction came over the public. Men and women began to express the same views as Captain Maitland's sailors had expressed, viz.: "This man cannot be so bad as they make him out to be."

Las Cases had been sent to the Cape, but his journal, containing conversations, dictations, and the general daily life of the exiles since they embarked aboard the _Bellerophon_, was seized by Lowe, so that he might pry into it with the hope of finding seditious entries.

(It may be taken for granted that no eulogy of himself appeared therein.) The poor Count and his son on arrival at the Cape were confined in an unhealthy hovel, and treated more like galley-slaves than human beings. After some weeks of this truly British hospitality under the Liverpool-Bathurst regime he determines to make a last appeal to Lord Charles Somerset, then Governor at the Cape, to be more compa.s.sionate. He had been told that nothing but a dog or a horse attracted either his sympathy or his attention, and frankly admits that he found himself in error in thinking so harshly of his lordship, as his appeal met with a prompt and generous response.

The Governor, in fact, expressed his sorrow on learning for the first time of the Count's illness and the conditions under which he was living. He immediately put at his disposal his country residence, servants, and all else that would add to his comfort, and thus earned the eternal grat.i.tude of a much persecuted father and son. Lord Charles Somerset, for this gracious act alone, will rank amongst the good-hearted Englishmen of that troublesome time. It would appear that the Cape Governor's subordinates were entirely responsible for the ill-treatment complained of.

It is a puzzle to know for what purpose this gentleman and his son were detained at the Cape. The Count had frequently pointed out the folly of his detention, and begged Lord Charles to allow them to take their pa.s.sage in a small brig of 200 tons that was bound to Europe.

This request was agreed to, a pa.s.sport granted, and the captain of the craft that was to be carried "in the sailors' arms" three thousand leagues was given stern instructions that should he touch anywhere, his pa.s.sengers were to have no communication with the sh.o.r.e, and on reaching England they were not to be allowed to land without receiving orders from the Government.

Whatever other charge may be brought against Las Cases, the lack of courage can never be cited. The act of taking so long a pa.s.sage in this c.o.c.klesh.e.l.l of a vessel is a sure testimony of his devotion and bravery. The food and the accommodation were of the very worst, and though the account given of the low thunder of the waves lashing on the decks is not very sailorly, there can be little doubt that so long a pa.s.sage could not be made without some startling vicissitudes.

At length, after nearly one hundred days from the Cape, they are safely landed at Dover, and make their way to London to apprise the immortal Bathurst of their arrival and of their desire to see him, so that he might listen to some observations about St. Helena matters.

This man of mighty mystery and dignity does not deign to reply, but sends a Ministerial messenger to inform the Count that it is the Prince Regent's pleasure that he quits Great Britain instantly. Las Cases tells the messenger that it is a "very sorry, silly pleasure"

for His Royal Highness to have, but he has to quit all the same, as England is now governed by "sorry, silly pleasure." Another batch of papers is taken from him, and he is bundled away to Ostend and from thence to other inhospitable countries, and ultimately lands at Frankfort.

The Count writes many clever, rather long, but disturbing letters to n.o.ble lords in England, to members of Governments in other countries, and to every crowned head interested in the little community they have in safe and despotic keeping at St. Helena. He sends a pet.i.tion to the British Parliament stating in clear, clinching terms another indictment against the British Ministry and their agent. This doc.u.ment was sent from the deserts of Tygerberg, but like much more of a similar kind, not a word was said about it. The author, however, was not to be fooled or driven from the path which he conceived to be his duty to his much wronged Emperor, so the pet.i.tion was published, and created a great sensation.

This had to be subdued or counteracted, and as the Government were unaccustomed to manly, straightforward dealing, they fell back on their natural method of intrigue and the spreading of reports that were likely to encourage and create prejudice against their captive.

It was imputed to them that while the Congress was sitting at Aix-la-Chapelle they got up a scare of a daring plot of escape. This was done at a time when the monarchs were touched with a kind of sympathy for the man who had so often spared them, and whom their cruelty was now putting to death.

No wonder that this Ministry of little men were suspected of tricks degrading and treacherous. The recitals of their distorted versions of their woes affected the public imagination like a dreary litany.

Vast communities of men were beginning to realise that a tragedy was being engineered in the name of sanct.i.ty and humanity.

Every agency composed of cunning, unscrupulous rascals was enlisted to picture the Emperor as a hideous monster who should not be allowed to enjoy the liberty so charitably given him, and who, if he got his proper deserts, should be put in chains. He was depicted as having a mania for roaming about the island with a gun, shooting wild cats and anything else that came within range. Madame Bertrand's pet kids, a bullock, and some goats were reported to have fallen victims to this vicious maniac. Old Montchenu and Lowe became alarmed lest he should kill some human being by mistake; they perplexed their little minds as to the form of indictment should such an event happen. Should it be manslaughter or murder? This knotty question was submitted with touching solemnity to the law officers of the Crown for decision, and it may be a.s.sumed that even their sense of humour must have been excited when they learned of the quandary of the Governor and the French Commissioner. The shooting propensity set the ingenious Lowe a-thinking, and in order to satisfy it he evolved the idea of having rabbits let adrift, but, as usual, another of his little comforting considerations is abortive, and the plan has a tragic finish. Shooting is off. The Emperor's hobby has changed to gardening. The rabbits become an easy prey to the swarms of rats that prowl about Longwood, and soon disappear.

It is quite probable that Napoleon did have a fancy for shooting, but it is well known he was never at any time a sportsman in the sense of being a good shot--indeed, everything points to his having no taste for what is ordinarily known as sport, and that he ever shot kids, goats, or bullocks is highly improbable. That he occasionally went shooting and got good sport in killing the rats and other vermin which made Longwood an insufferable habitation to live in is quite true. It is also quite true that Lowe became demented with fear in case the shooting should have sanguinary and far-reaching effects. Hence the foregoing communication to the law officers.

There is little doubt as to the use that was made of the ludicrous inquiry by Lowe. It must have been handed over to the army of loathsome libellers--men and women who were willing to do the dirtiest of all work, that of writing and speaking lies (some abominable in their character) of a defenceless man, in order that their vindictiveness should be completely satisfied. Vast sums were annually expended for no other purpose than to put their afflicted prisoner through the torture of a living purgatory.

Napoleon did not heed their silly stories of shooting exploits, though he knew the underlying purpose of them. It was the darker, sordid wickedness that was daily practised on him that ate like a canker into mind and body until he was a shattered wreck. It was the foul treatment of this great man that caused Dr. Barry O'Meara to revolt and openly proclaim that the captive of St. Helena was being put to death. As an honourable man he declared he could behold it no longer without making a spirited protest. He knew that this meant banishment, ostracism, and persecution by the Government. He foresaw that powerful agencies would be at work against him, and that no expense would be spared in order that his statements should be refuted, but he hazarded everything and defied the world. He came through the ordeal, as all impartial judges will admit, with cleaner hands and a cleaner tongue than those who challenged his accuracy.

Make what deductions you may, distort and twist as you like the unimportant trivialities, the main facts related by O'Meara have never been really shaken. What is more, he is backed up by Napoleon himself in Lowe's personal interviews with him, and more particularly by his letters to the Governor--to say nothing of the substantial backing he gets from Las Cases, Montholon, Marchand, and Gourgaud--that shameless, jealous, lachrymose traitor to his great benefactor.

And then there is Santini, whose wish to kill the Governor was not altogether without good reason, and who was deported from the island for this and other infringements of the regulations. The publication of his pamphlet, previously mentioned, created a great sensation, and it sold like wildfire. It was said to be fabrications, but it was not _all_ fabrications. Montholon reports that Napoleon criticised the work, and remarked that some one must have a.s.sisted him. Well, so it was. The story was related to Colonel Maceroni, an Italian, by Santini, and put into readable form by him, but this does not detract from that which is really true in it, and a good deal of what O'Meara contends is confirmed therein.

Then O'Meara's successor, Antommarchi, has even a worse story to relate. These chronicles vary only in phrase and detail, and even in these there is wonderful similarity. But when we come down to the bedrock foundation of their complaints, _i.e._, the policy and treatment by Lowe and his myrmidons, incited by the Home Government and their followers, each record bears the stamp of truth--the indictment is the same though it may be related differently.

Some writers have cast doubt on the authenticity of the St. Helena chroniclers without having a peg to hang their contentions on. The answer to all this is, that if never a line had been written by these men, the State papers, cunningly devised and crafty though most of them are, would have been ample evidence from which to draw unfavourable conclusions. Indeed, without State papers being brought into it at all, there is facing you always the glaring fact of a determined a.s.sa.s.sination perpetrated in the name of humanity, and if I felt any desire to be a.s.sured of this, I would take as an authority William Forsyth's three volumes written in defence of Sir Hudson Lowe.

No author has so completely failed to prove his case. Moreover, no valid reason has ever been given, or ever can be, for doubting the veracity of O'Meara and other gentlemen of Napoleon's suite who have written their experiences of the St. Helena period.

In the first place, those sceptical writers who deal with the different books that have been published relative to this part of Napoleon's history were not only not there to witness all that went on, but some of them were not born for many years after Napoleon and his contemporaries had pa.s.sed on. So that it really narrows itself down to this: the knowledge the sceptics have attained is taken from doc.u.ments or books written for the most part by the very men who they say are not to be relied on as giving a true version of all that took place during their stay at St. Helena. It cannot be disputed that these gentlemen were in daily and hourly contact with England's prisoner, and, as they aver, jotted down everything that pa.s.sed in conversation or that transpired in other ways between themselves and the Emperor, or anybody else.

The history of the St. Helena period, as written by authors who were on the spot, is, in the present writer's opinion, singularly free from exaggeration, let alone untruths. Besides, what had any of them to gain by sending forth distorted statements and untruthful history? No one knew better than they that every line they wrote would be contested by those who had relied on the rigid regulations suppressing all communications except those which pa.s.sed through the hands of Sir Hudson Lowe. Certainly O'Meara cannot be accused of having ulterior motives, nor can any of the others--not even Gourgaud, who acted alternately traitor and devoted friend. Gourgaud alone seems to have had a mania for sinning and repenting, writing down during his childish fits of temper about his supposed wrongs on his shirtcuffs, and not infrequently his finger-nails, some nasty remark or some slanderous thoughts about the man whose amiable consideration for him was notorious amongst the circle at Longwood, and even at Plantation House. These scribblings were intended for precise entry in his diary, and if the peevish temper lasted until he got at this precious book, down they went in rancorous haste.

Yet this hot-headed, jealous chronicler, guided by blind pa.s.sion and never by reason while these moods were on him, has been held up as an authority that may be relied upon as to the doings and sayings of Napoleon and his immediate followers at the "Abode of Darkness." It is a well-known axiom that persons who speak or write anything while jealousy or temper holds them in its grip may not be counted as reliable people to follow, and that is exactly what happened in Gourgaud's case. He was the Peter of the band of disciples at St.

Helena, and it may be considered fairly reasonable to a.s.sume that those who have written up the General as a sound historian have done so with a view to backing up prejudices, big or small, against the Emperor.

But surely they have committed a very grave error in singling out as their hero of veracity a man who, in his more normal and charitable moods, pours out praise and pity for his Imperial chief in astonishing profusion.

O'Meara's position was very different from any of the other diarists or writers. He was well aware that if he wrote an honest history it meant his complete ruin, yet he faced it, and defied the world to controvert his statements. "In face of the world," he says, "I challenge investigation," and "investigation" was made with a vengeance worthy of the Inquisition. If a word or a sentence could by any possible means be made to appear faulty, a scream of denunciation was sent forth from one end of Europe to the other, but the crime had sunk too deeply into the hearts of an outraged public for these ebullitions to have any real effect. There might be flaws in diction and even matters of fact, but the sordid reality of the doc.u.mentary and verbal story that came to them was never doubted. The big heart of the British nation was beginning to be moved in sympathy towards the martyr long before his death, and of course long before O'Meara's book appeared, though the doctor's advent in Europe was made the occasion of a vigorous exposure of the progress of the great a.s.sa.s.sination.

A wave of public opinion was gathering force; the Government, stupid and treacherous as they were, saw it rising, and renewed their silly efforts to stem it by causing atrocious duplicity to be inst.i.tuted at home and on the martyr rock. Indeed, nothing was beneath their dignity so long as they succeeded in deceiving an agitated populace and accomplishing their own evil ends.

But notwithstanding the tactics and the deplorable use made of the traitor Gourgaud, sympathetic feeling increases. Questions are frequently asked in the House of Commons, to which evasive answers are given, but reaction is so obviously gaining ground that Lords Liverpool, Castlereagh, and the immortal Bathurst become perturbed.

They saw in the accession to power of Lord Holland's party a complete exposure of their maladministration, and a reversing of their policy (if it be not a libel to distinguish it as a "policy"). They knew, too, that once the public is fairly seized with the idea of a great wrong being perpetrated, no Government, however strong numerically or in personality, can withstand its opposition. Had the Emperor lived but a little longer, the vindictive men who tormented him to death would have been compelled to give way before not only British, but European, indignation. Public opinion would have enforced the Administration to deal out better treatment to their captive, have demanded his removal from the island of sorrow, and probably his freedom. The public may be capricious, but once it makes up its mind to do anything no power on earth can stop it, because it has a greater power behind it. Luckily, or unluckily, for Bathurst & Co., the spirit of the great captive had pa.s.sed beyond the portal before serious public action could be taken.

Three years previous to this the Colonial Secretary in writing to Lowe says:--"We must expect that the removal of Mr. O'Meara will occasion a great sensation, and an attempt will be made to give a bad impression on the subject. You had better let the substance of my instructions be generally known as soon as you have executed it, that it may not be represented that Mr. O'Meara has been removed in consequence of any quarrel with you, but in consequence of the information furnished by General Gourgaud in England respecting his conduct."[11]

In reading through these State letters, one is struck with the diplomatically(?) cunning composition of them. There does not seem to be a manly phrase from beginning to end. Trickery, suspicion, cruelty, veiled or apparent, and an occasional dash of pious consideration and bombast sums up these perfidious doc.u.ments. A few extracts will convey precisely the character of the men who were carrying on negotiations which should have been regarded as essentially delicate.

In February, 1821, Bathurst writes to Lowe:--

"Sufficient time will have elapsed since the date of your last communications to enable you to form a more accurate judgment with respect to the extent and reality of General Bonaparte's indisposition. Should your observations convince you that the illness has been _a.s.sumed_, you will of course consider yourself at liberty to withhold from him the communication which you are otherwise authorised to make in my despatch No. 21," &c.

On April 11, 1821, Lowe writes to Bathurst:--"The enclosed extract of a letter from Count Montholon may merit, as usual, your lordship's perusal." (This, of course, is intended as wit.) "It may be regarded as a bulletin of General Bonaparte's health, meant for circulation at Paris."

Dr. Antommarchi, in writing to Signor Simeon Colonna on March 17, 1821, after dilating on his master's health, the climate, &c., bursts out in a paragraph: "Dear friend, the medical art can do nothing against the influence of climate, and if the English Government does not hasten to remove him from this destructive atmosphere, His Majesty soon, with anguish I say it, will pay the last tribute to the earth"; and in a postscript he adds: "I offer the _undoubted facts_ stated above, in opposition to the gratuitous a.s.sertions in the English newspapers relative to the good health which His Majesty is stated to enjoy here."

On March 17, 1821, Montholon writes to Princess Pauline Borghesi: "The Emperor reckons upon your Highness to make his real situation known to some English of influence. He dies without succour upon this frightful rock; his agonies are frightful." At the time Napoleon was suffering thus, letters were published in some of the Ministerial newspapers purporting to have come from St. Helena and representing him to be in perfect health.

On May 6, 1821, Lowe writes to Bathurst announcing the death of the Emperor. It is a long rigmarole not worth quoting, except that he condescends to allow the body to be interred with the honours due to a general officer of the highest rank. Then follows the majestic reply of Bathurst. He says, "I am happy to a.s.sure you that your conduct, as detailed in those despatches, has received His Majesty's approbation"; which indicates that Lowe did not feel quite happy himself as to how the effusions would be regarded by his employers, now that the Emperor had succ.u.mbed to their and his own wicked treatment. In his despatches of February and April, 1821, he had mockingly referred to Napoleon's indisposition as being faked, and in May he is obliged to write himself as an unscrupulous liar, but notwithstanding this, his action meets with the approval of the chief of the executioners, which is very natural, seeing that this person was regarded as one of the most prominent scoundrels in Europe. But Sir Hudson Lowe craved for approbation, and was so mentally const.i.tuted that he believed he deserved it by committing offences against G.o.d and man.

"Every good servant does not all commands, no bond but to do just ones," but Lowe, in his anxiety to please his employers, went to the furthest limits of injustice. How void of human understanding and what Mrs. Carlyle called "that d.a.m.ned thing, human kindness" this wretched man was!

As will be hereafter shown, he had not long to wait after Napoleon's death and the receipt of tokens of friendliness that had been sent to him through the Colonial Secretary, before he was made to feel that the Government was not disposed to carry any part of his public unpopularity on its shoulders. He had done his best or worst to make that portion of the earth on which he lived miserable to those he might have made tolerably happy, without infringing the loutish instructions of a notoriously stupid Government. Instead of this he made himself so despised that the Emperor, almost with his last breath, called all good spirits to bear witness against him and his murderous confederates.

The great soldier had slipped his moorings on May 6, 1821, and on the 7th or 8th, after much ado with the Governor, a post-mortem examination was held by Dr. Francois Antommarchi in the presence of Drs. Short, Arnott, Burton, and Livingstone. Lowe was represented by the Chief of Staff. The examination disclosed an ulcerous growth and an unnaturally enlarged liver, which may be a.s.sumed as the ultimate cause of death, though Antommarchi's report a.s.suredly points to the fatal nature of the climatic conditions.

The French were anxious to have the body of their Emperor embalmed, but Hudson Lowe insisted that his instructions forbade this. Napoleon had commanded that his heart should be put in a silver vase filled with spirits of wine and sent to Marie Louise. When Sir Hudson Lowe heard that this was being done, he sent a peremptory order forbidding it, stating that no part should be preserved but the stomach, which would be sent to England. Naturally such wanton disregard of the Emperor's wish was violently resented by the French, and by the best of the English who were there. A long and heated discussion seems to have ensued on this question, which ended in the Governor having to give way--not altogether--but he was compelled to a compromise, viz., that the heart and stomach should be preserved and put into the coffin.