The Life, Exile and Conversations with Napoleon. Emmanuel-Auguste-Dieudonné Las Cases
stood towards us, and anchored on each side, nearly touching the Bellerophon. Upon this, some person whispered to me that these ships were to receive us in the course of the night, and to sail for St. Helena.
Never can I portray the effect of these terrible words! A cold sweat overspread my whole frame: it was an unexpected sentence of death! Unpitying executioners had seized me: I was torn from all that attached me to life. I extended my arms sorrowfully towards those who were dear to me, but in vain; my fate was inevitable! This thought, together with a crowd of others which arose in equal disorder, excited a real tempest of the mind. It was like the struggle of a soul that sought to disengage itself from its earthly habitation! It turned my hair grey!——Fortunately the crisis was short, and, as it happened, the mind came forth triumphant; so much so, indeed, that from this moment I seemed above the world. I felt that I could thenceforth defy injustice, ill treatment, and sufferings. Above all, I vowed that neither complaints nor solicitations should escape me. But let not those of my companions, to whom I appeared tranquil in those fatal circumstances, accuse me of being deficient in feeling! Their agony was prolonged in detail—mine operated all at once.
One of those coincidences, not the least extraordinary of my life, recurred to my thoughts soon after. Twenty years before, and during my emigration to England, without possessing any worldly goods, I had refused to seek a certain fortune in India, because it was too remote, and I thought myself too old. Now, when twenty years older, I was about to quit my family, friends, fortune, and enjoyments, to become a voluntary exile two thousand miles off, in the midst of the ocean, for nothing. But no, I am mistaken! the sentiment that now impelled me was infinitely superior to the riches I then disdained: I accompanied him who had governed the world, and will occupy the attention of posterity.
The Emperor continued to appear on deck as usual. I sometimes saw him in his cabin, but without communicating what I had heard: I wished to console him, and not to be his tormentor. The reports had, however, reached him: but he had come so freely and confidently on board the Bellerophon; he had been so strongly invited by the English themselves; he so completely regarded his letter to the Prince Regent, transmitted before-hand to Captain Maitland, as so many tacit conditions; he had, in fact, acted with such magnanimity throughout the proceeding, that he repelled with indignation all the fears which were attempted to be excited in him, not even permitting those around him to entertain doubts.
27th—28th. It would be difficult to describe our torments and anxiety at this moment: most of us were dumb and inanimate. The least circumstance which transpired from the shore—an opinion, however unimportant, expressed on board—an unmeaning paragraph in a daily paper, became the subjects of our most serious arguments, and the cause of perpetual oscillations between our hopes and fears. The most trifling reports were sought with avidity; whoever appeared was urged to give a favourable version of deceitful anticipations: so little do the ardour and activity of our national character contribute to endow us with that stoical resignation, that imperturbable composure, which can only be acquired from settled principles and positive doctrines imbibed from early infancy.
The public papers, particularly those of the ministerial side, were let loose against us; it was the outcry of the Ministers preparing the blow they were about to strike. It would not be easy to form an idea of the horrors, falsehoods, and imprecations accumulated on our heads; and there is always a portion communicated to the multitude, however well disposed it may be, so that the demeanour of those around us became less easy, while their politeness became embarrassed and their countenances more reserved.
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