Crossing to the side of the warship he gazed down over the thousands of spectators who had come to see him. He smiled and raised his hat in greeting and there was a ragged chorus of cheers from his audience.
De Las Cases, Napoleon’s secretary, shook his head. ‘The English make strange enemies, sire. You seem to be as popular with them as their own monarch.’
‘Well, I must ensure their continued good will,’ Napoleon replied quietly as he raised his hat again and waved it at a party of young women aboard a small yacht that had somehow slipped through the screen of guard boats which were rowing swiftly to cut the yacht off. ‘I have no desire to be handed into the custody of my enemies on the continent.’
Few doubted that he would be put to death if he were returned to France, which left his English captors with a dilemma. Of all his enemies, Napoleon had calculated that England would treat him the most leniently. That was why he had given himself up to Captain Maitland. In truth, he had little choice in the matter.
After the defeat at Waterloo, he had raced back to Paris to take charge of the situation and prepare to gather all available forces to stem the advance of Wellington and Blücher. Such was his exhaustion that he allowed himself several hours’ rest once he reached the Tuileries. By the time he awoke his enemies had made their move. Led by Fouché, the Chamber of Peers and the Chamber of Deputies had passed motions declaring that they could not be dissolved without their agreement, and called on the National Guard to defend them. Fouché had then called on Napoleon to abdicate for a second time. Weighed down by fatigue and despair Napoleon had given way. As a last favour to his former master Fouché had placed a French frigate of the Rochefort squadron at his disposal and requested that he leave France once and for all. Napoleon had delayed in Paris for a few days, offering to serve his country as a mere general to help stem the allied invasion. His offer was curtly rebuffed. As the first exchange of cannon fire echoed across the city Napoleon and a small band of close followeres had fled to Rochefort, only to discover that it was closely blockaded by the Royal Navy. Napoleon had hoped to escape to the United States, and waited in the port for the chance to slip out to sea under cover of a moonless night.
As he waited, a report came from Paris that the capital had surrendered to Wellington and Blücher. The Bourbons were to be restored once more, and had already issued orders for Napoleon’s arrest. To wait any longer was foolhardy, and so, on 15 July, Napoleon had commandeered a lugger to carry him and and his party out to the nearest British warship.
‘What becomes of us now then, sire?’ de Las Cases wondered. ‘I mean, if the English decide not to return us to France.’
‘They will treat us as honoured guests,’ Napoleon replied confidently. ‘That is their nature. They baulk at extreme acts and would not have my blood on their hands. I expect that Lord Liverpool and his government are even now deciding on a small estate, somewhere in the heart of the country, where we may be kept under close supervision.’
‘And in the longer term, sire?’
‘Once it is felt that I no longer pose a threat to peace, I shall be free to leave.’ Napoleon turned to his secretary with a glint in his eyes. ‘I am finished in France, but I am sure that my talents can be put to good use in another sphere. You’ll see. Perhaps I will even be permitted to resume my rule over Elba.’
‘I hope so, sire.’
‘In the meantime, we must create a good impression on our hosts. Wave, man. Show them they have nothing to fear from us.’
The pair returned the waves from a number of the nearest boats. Even as he put on an act for his captors, Napoleon’s heart seethed with bitterness. At the end, he had been betrayed by Fouché and his marshals, who had refused to rally to his side.
‘The next time I have the chance to exercise any power, I will be certain to be more careful about those I trust,’ he muttered. ‘I tell you, if I had hanged just two men,Talleyrand and Fouché, I would still be on the throne today.’
‘Deck there!’ a voice cried out from above and Napoleon turned and leaned his head back to see one of the sailors pointing towards the shore. ‘Captain’s returning!’
The lieutenant of the watch nodded his acknowledgement and hurriedly gave orders for one of the mates to assemble a sideguard to greet Maitland. Looking out across the water Napoleon could make out the
Bellerophon
’s launch, stroking neatly across the calm surface. Maitland sat stiffly in the stern, with a civilian at his side. The launch picked its way through the crowd of small vessels and made for the side of the warship. A short distance away the sailors raised their oars and the man in the bows caught on to the ship’s chains with a boathook and drew the launch up against the side. Captain Maitland climbed up the rungs on the side of his ship and as his head drew level with the entry port the mates blew their whistles and the side guard of marines and sailors stood to attention.
Napoleon nodded approvingly. ‘They are well drilled. Like clockwork, as with everything else on the ship.’
The civilian rose unsteadily in the stern of the launch and had to be helped up the warship’s side by two of the sailors. As he clambered on to the deck and joined Maitland the captain was talking to the lieutenant on watch in a low urgent tone, and he nodded briefly at Napoleon before striding towards the entrance to his cabin, followed by the civilian.
‘Looks like he’s had some news from London,’ de Las Cases suggested.
Napoleon nodded, feeling relieved that his fate had been decided. The sooner he got off the ship and back on dry land the better, he decided. Maitland had allocated the first lieutenant’s quarters to the Emperor and Napoleon found the cabin cramped, damp-smelling and dingy. He longed for the comfort of a warm salon with a large fireplace and relief from the limited diet of boiled meat and vegetables offered aboard the
Bellerophon
.
‘Sire.’ De Las Cases nodded towards the lieutenant of the watch who was crossing the deck towards them. The English officer stopped in front of Napoleon and touched the brim of his bicorne.
‘Sir, the captain wishes to see you in his cabin at your earliest convenience.’
‘Ah.’ Napoleon smiled. ‘Then he has news from London, eh?’
‘I couldn’t say, sir.’ The lieutenant gestured towards the companionway. Napoleon turned briefly to de Las Cases. ‘Stay here. This shouldn’t take long.’
Then he followed the lieutenant below decks as the midshipman by the blackboard rubbed it down and reached for the chalk once more.
The lieutenant paused outside the captain’s door and knocked, then opened the door and stood aside to let Napoleon pass inside. Maitland was sitting behind his desk and rose up carefully to avoid bumping his head on the deck above. He bowed his head.
‘General Bonaparte, may I introduce Mr Jacob Waterman, from the Cabinet Office. He has come directly from the Prime Minister.’
Napoleon had been surprised by the captain’s mode of addressing him. So far he had been pleased to use the imperial title, but now ‘General’? He frowned for an instant before he forced himself to smile a greeting and advance to offer the civilian his hand. Waterman made no attempt to reciprocate, and stood, hunched beneath a wooden beam, hands clasped behind his back.
Captain Maitland cleared his throat uncomfortably. ‘Er, Mr Waterman is here to convey the decision concerning your fate that has been decided by his majesty’s government.’ He nodded to his companion. ‘If you would be so good?’
He sat down without waiting for a reply and the government’s representative addressed Napoleon coldly.
‘General Bonaparte, after careful consideration of the obligations of the government and nation of Britain, the Prime Minister and his cabinet have resolved to convey you, and a limited number of your followers, to a place far enough from Europe that you shall not again disturb its peace. You will be placed under guard, and all communications and visitors shall be at the discretion of the government.’
Napoleon raised a hand to stop Waterman. ‘I take it that you have decided not to return me to Elba then?’
‘Elba?’ Waterman looked surprised. ‘Certainly not.’
‘Then where will I be taken?’
‘The government has chosen the island of St Helena.’
‘St Helena? I have never heard of it.’
‘I am not surprised, sir. It is a small British colony in the south Atlantic ocean, thousands of miles away.’
Napoleon felt his heart sink at the prospect of a long sea voyage. Worse still was the thought of being held captive on some primitive rock far from decent civilization.
‘How long does your government propose to keep me there?’
Waterman and Maitland exchanged a brief look before the former replied. ‘For the rest of your life, sir.’
‘What?’ Napoleon felt a stab of desperation at the prospect. ‘Surely the Prime Minister can’t mean it? Let me write to him. Better still, let me make my case in person. I swear that if I am granted a comfortable exile in England that her people need never fear for my actions again.’
‘I’m sorry, sir,’Waterman shook his head. ‘There’s no time for you to present your case. A fast frigate, the
Northumberland
, will convey you to St Helena as soon as she is provisioned. You are to select no more than six of your companions to join you in exile. You may take whatever possessions are left to you. Do you have any questions, sir?’
Napoleon was momentarily stunned by the swiftness with which his fate had been decided. There would be no semblance of a kingdom for him to rule this time. Only a dreary life eked out on an island prison far from Europe.
Waterman sniffed.‘You seem surprised, sir. What did you expect?You are an enemy of peace. Because of you a multitude have suffered. Europe will bear the scars of your influence for a generation, or more. You have proved to be too dangerous to be allowed to remain in proximity to Europe. Of course, should you wish to return to France, then I am sure that his majesty’s government would be inclined to look favourably on such a request.’
‘That would be a death sentence, and you know it.’
‘Quite. And as far as I am concerned, it is no more than you deserve.’ Waterman paused. ‘However, the choice is yours, General. You might find some comfort in a martyr’s death if you return to France and face your enemies. Or you live out the rest of your days, and end your life in unregarded obscurity. Which will it be?’
Napoleon glared sourly at the official. For a moment he was seized by the fire of defiance. Let him return to France. Let him face his enemies and show them how a soldier dies. Who would ever forget the name of Napoleon Bonaparte then? His fervid imagination pictured the scene of his execution. Firing squad or blade, each prospect filled him with a cold dread that he had never known on the battlefield. A glorious end would be denied to him for ever now. He did not want to die the death of a common criminal. He was afraid to, and that insight sickened him. He swallowed and looked down at the deck as he made his reply.
‘I will accept exile on your terms.’
‘I thought so,’Waterman replied with a hint of scorn.‘Very well, then I am done here. Good day, General. We shall not meet again.’
He did not wait for any reply, but made his way out of the cabin. Maitland was still for a moment, and then rose up from his table and left to make arrangements for the transfer of his prisoner to the
Northumberland
. Napoleon stood alone in the cabin staring blankly at the outside world through the grille of the leaded stern windows.
Paris, August 1815
Arthur lowered the copy of the despatch that Somerset had brought him a few minutes earlier. He did not respond immediately, but stared out of the window of the Tuileries palace into the gardens. Scores of Parisians were walking along the gravel avenues stretching out between the flowerbeds and neat lines of trees, enjoying the cool of the early morning. In the afternoon, Arthur knew that the gardens would be almost deserted and he decided to take his exercise then. There had been little chance to take a break from his duties since the allied army had accepted the surrender of Paris at the beginning of July. Despite the defeat at Waterloo, the French had put up a stiff fight outside their capital before giving in. Within days Louis was back on the throne, but everyone in Paris knew that the real power in France was now the Duke of Wellington. His word was law. The newly-returned King did not dare protest against Arthur’s instruction to reappoint Fouché as Minister of Police, even though Fouché had fixed his signature to the death warrant of the previous monarch. Even so, Arthur knew that his authority would be severely tested in the months to come. The Royalists were openly calling for revenge against those officials and army officers who had gone over to Bonaparte during his brief resumption of his throne. Arthur was determined to do what he could to prevent the thirst for revenge leading to unnecessary bloodshed. His task was complicated by the desire of the Prussians to make France suffer for the indignities that Bonaparte had heaped on Frederick William over the years. General Müffling had requested yet another meeting with Arthur to state the demands of Blücher and Gneisenau, and Arthur sighed wearily at the prospect of facing Müffling within the hour.