He took pleasure in laying out a garden at Longwood which he kept embellishing with the aid of two Chinese workers and enjoyed watering himself. He received visits from the Balcombes, particularly Betsy, who sometimes brought some local lady to see him. But they had to obtain authorisation beforehand and present a chit at the guardhouse at the outer limit of Longwood, as though they were visiting an inmate in prison.
His detention was anomalous, as he was neither strictly speaking a prisoner of war nor a convicted criminal, and while he was freer to move about than either, he was also forbidden a number of privileges guaranteed to both. Its conditions said more about the fears and insecurities of the cabinets of Europe than about any threat he might have posed. He was not allowed to walk or ride beyond certain limits without being accompanied by a British officer, and even within them he was watched by 125 sentinels during the day and seventy-two by night. In addition there were pickets of soldiers placed on every hill in the area. Twice a day an officer had to ascertain his presence face to face. A telegraph was set up to alert Jamestown instantly of his movements (with a signal for ‘escaped’). Nobody could visit him without authorisation, and a curfew applied to the immediate area. The 53rd was encamped nearby, and patrolled incessantly. Two ships circumnavigated the island continuously, one clockwise, the other anti-clockwise. Dr O’Meara was enlisted by Admiral Cockburn to spy on Napoleon and report on his actions, his words and even his mood. He was not allowed any newspapers. Ships calling at Jamestown to take on water were boarded and searched, their crews and passengers screened. In June 1816, high-ranking commissioners sent by the French, Russian and Austrian governments arrived to invigilate. ‘The Island of St Helena is the point on which our telescopes must be unceasingly trained,’ Louis XVIII’s prime minister the duc de Richelieu wrote to his ambassador in London, anxious about whether the British were taking enough precautions. It was as if some dangerous force was being contained on the remote island, a plague that needed to be quarantined.11
There is no evidence that Napoleon ever contemplated or even wished to escape. On the contrary, he applied himself to making what he could of his predicament in such a way that at times he almost seemed to revel in it; the consummate actor and manipulator was gradually developing a new strategy.
Whatever his feelings about their government’s actions, he had gone out of his way to be amiable to all the British officers, military and naval, during the crossing (he never cheated at cards with them). When the sailors put on their ceremony at the crossing of the Equator, he distributed money to them. He charmed the Balcombes during his stay at the Briars. He was polite and comradely towards the colonel and officers of the 53rd when they called. He received British inhabitants of the island graciously, and on the whole succeeded in engaging their sympathy, or at least in conveying the impression that he was being shabbily treated. To visiting Britons – and there were many of them, as after weeks or months at sea on their way to or from India, a glimpse of the fallen ogre was an irresistible attraction – he was charming, and appeared to bear his misfortunes with good grace. It was not long before accounts were published, and people in England began criticising the unnecessarily harsh conditions to which he was being subjected.12
He applied himself to making them appear harsher than they were. While he had been on relatively cordial terms with Admiral Cockburn during the crossing, on St Helena he began to treat him as his gaoler. Rather than seek a modus vivendi, he challenged him. Knowing perfectly well that all officers and officials had been instructed to accord him no more honours than those due to a general, he would nevertheless order Bertrand to inform the admiral that the emperor wished this or that, which naturally elicited the response that the admiral knew of no emperor on the island and was therefore unable to comply. When an invitation was issued to ‘General Buonaparte’ to attend a function, Napoleon instructed Bertrand to answer that the person in question had last been seen in Egypt in 1799. This kind of behaviour soured the admiral’s view of Napoleon and encouraged him to carry out his duty with greater zeal, leading to a further deterioration in relations between them and an accumulation of grievances on either side.13
In April 1816 the military governor who was to supervise his captivity reached the island and took over from Admiral Cockburn, who stayed on as commander of the naval station. Major General Sir Hudson Lowe had served mainly in the Mediterranean, taking part in the British capture of Corsica and commanding a regiment of pro-British Corsicans, and spoke French and Italian as a result. Although he was a capable soldier and a competent administrator, he was not popular, and Wellington thought him a fussy fool. Punctilious, narrow-minded and lacking in imagination, let alone human sympathy, he was the worst possible choice for his new appointment.
Napoleon was pleased at the news that his new gaoler was to be a soldier. But things got off to a bad start when, shortly after his arrival, on 15 April the new governor called at Longwood unannounced, only to be told that the emperor was unable to receive him. It was agreed that he should return the following day, when Napoleon did receive him but took an instant dislike to him. Lowe was not interested in him as a person or a historical figure, and could see no further than the limits of his instructions, which were to guard the prisoner according to guidelines laid down in London by the war secretary Lord Bathurst, who had no idea of local conditions and therefore piled on unnecessary precautions. He saw no reason to question these, and carried them out to the letter. Napoleon felt affronted, and showed his feelings with characteristic rudeness. Lowe responded with officious detachment and an extreme interpretation of his instructions, meaning to teach the French upstart a lesson. This furnished Napoleon with the perfect target for his bitterness and frustration, and, by extension, with the ideal means by which to fight his final battle against the British.
A couple of weeks after their first meeting, the ship carrying furniture and the materials for building the new house arrived at Jamestown, and Lowe came to enquire where Napoleon thought it should be erected. This carried an unwelcome suggestion of permanence regarding his captivity, and Napoleon flew into a rage about the way he was being treated, accusing his gaoler of having been sent to kill him. Lowe barely contained his anger and retired. The furniture was brought to Longwood (absurdly, since Napoleon did not play, a billiard table was installed in the parlour), and no more was said about the new residence.14
In mid-June Admiral Cockburn was relieved by a new squadron under Rear Admiral Sir Pulteney Malcolm, whose wife, Clementine Elphinstone, owed Napoleon a debt of gratitude; he had saved her brother’s life by getting his wounds dressed at Waterloo. They brought presents from her brother (which Lowe attempted to prevent being handed over) and French newspapers, and treated him with consideration. In the course of repeated visits this developed into cordiality, with Napoleon indulging his old fascination with Ossian by questioning her about her native Scotland. This profoundly irritated the governor, whose relations with the admiral became strained.15
The new fleet also brought the commissioners designated by Russia, Austria and France to watch over Napoleon, and he briefly thought that, at least in the case of the Russian and the Austrian, they might provide a channel of communication with Alexander and Francis. When it became clear that they were only additional gaolers, he refused to receive them in their official capacity, as in doing so he would be accepting his position as a prisoner of their sovereigns. At the same time, he let it be known that he would gladly see them as private individuals. When, after having consulted their governments on the matter, they agreed, Lowe prohibited it, going so far as to forbid them to walk, ride or drive in the vicinity of Longwood, or to exchange greetings with any of its inhabitants they might meet, including servants (he issued similar injunctions on the soldiers of the 53rd, who had run out to cheer Napoleon as he passed their camp on one of his morning rides). Having intercepted a note from Bertrand to the French commissioner, the marquis de Montchenu, whom he knew to have seen his sick mother
in Paris, asking for news of her, Lowe rebuked him and declared that all correspondence must pass through him. He even prevented the Russian commissioner, Count Balmain, from any contact with a passing Russian ship, presumably fearing an attempt to kidnap his prisoner.16
Accompanying the Austrian commissioner, Baron Stürmer, was a young botanist employed in the gardens of Schönbrunn, Philipp Welle. He discreetly contacted Napoleon’s valet Marchand and handed him a letter from Marchand’s mother, who had been in service with the King of Rome and had accompanied him to Vienna. The letter contained a lock of his hair, and Welle, who had often seen the child in the gardens, was able to give news of him, which was all passed on to Napoleon; he was deeply affected and put the lock of hair away in his nécessaire, next to one of Josephine’s.17
Another ray of sunshine in his life was the arrival of two cases of books, along with letters from Letizia and Pauline. He was so eager to get at the books that he opened the cases himself with hammer and chisel. But his mood was spoiled when Lowe confiscated two volumes sent by an English admirer stamped on the binding with the words Imperatori Napoleoni, as he refused to acknowledge his prisoner’s imperial title. Napoleon had a number of well-wishers in England, most notably Lord and Lady Holland, who sent him books and other creature comforts – most of which were sent back by Lowe or by pettifogging officials in London. ‘Napoleon cannot need so many things,’ Lord Bathurst exclaimed when Pauline attempted to send him some necessities.18
Not surprisingly, Lowe met with a frosty reception when he called to discuss Napoleon’s accommodation; Longwood was already showing signs of decrepitude and was fast becoming uninhabitable. Napoleon could see no point in building a new house, believing that by the time it was ready there would have been a new ministry in Britain or a change of regime in France, or he would be dead. He was reluctant to accept any favour which might give the impression that his lot had been eased. There ensued a difficult meeting lasting two hours. (Napoleon would stand throughout, forcing Lowe to do likewise, fearing that if he were to sit down Lowe would do so too, a breach of etiquette in the presence of the emperor.) Since the materials for the new house had arrived, Lowe was determined to erect it, but in the first instance remedial works to the existing one were put in hand.19
The Russian commissioner reported to his superiors that as well as being ‘the saddest place in the world’, St Helena was impossible to attack or to escape from. Yet the British government was obsessed with the possibility of his doing so, and gave credence to every report and rumour of a plot to liberate Napoleon – including some absurd ones involving submarines. It therefore maintained the ludicrous number of troops and a naval squadron on permanent station, which, given the necessity of shipping in almost all victuals and supplies from Cape Town or even further afield, brought the cost of Napoleon’s confinement up to, according to some estimates, as much as £250,000 a year.20
Rather than scale down the military establishment, Lord Bathurst ordered Lowe to reduce the expense of keeping the prisoner and his household. While on Elba Napoleon had skimped and saved, here he was only too profligate with the British treasury’s money (it had, after all, robbed him of a large sum when he came aboard the Northumberland). He insisted on being supplied with meat and vegetables which were unavailable on the island and often arrived spoiled, and Longwood consumed an astonishing 1,400 bottles of wine a month (assisted by Poppleton and other officers of the 53rd, who either scrounged or bought it from the servants). Lowe called at Longwood to discuss savings, but was not received, and was told to address himself to Napoleon’s butler. He went to see Bertrand, who sent him to Montholon, who told him to go to the devil.21
On 18 August 1816 Lowe called at Longwood once more, in the company of Admiral Malcolm, who would at least gain him access to Napoleon. As they rode up they found him walking in the garden with Las Cases and Albine de Montholon. Lowe apologised for having to bring up the matter of finances, but complained that he was obliged to communicate directly with Napoleon since Bertrand had insultingly refused to discuss it. Napoleon could not contain his antipathy towards the general; he reminded him that Bertrand had commanded armies in the field, while he was nothing but a staff clerk who had only ever commanded ‘Corsican deserters’, a man without honour who read other people’s letters, a gaoler not a soldier, who was treating them ‘like Botany Bay convicts’. He railed at the conditions he was being kept under, at the climate which was undermining his health, at his mail being read, his books being confiscated and other indignities. ‘My body is in your hands, but my soul is free. It is as free as it was when I commanded Europe … And Europe will in time come to judge the treatment inflicted on me. The shame will rebound on the people of England,’ he said to Lowe. If he was not prepared to feed him Napoleon would go to the camp of the 53rd, whose officers would surely not refuse to share their meagre mess with an old soldier. Red in the face, Lowe could barely contain his fury at the insulting references to his not being a real soldier and acting dishonourably when he was only following orders; he salvaged his honour by telling Napoleon that he was ridiculous and his rudeness pathetic, and left, followed by Malcolm. He would never see Napoleon alive again.22
Napoleon admitted to Las Cases and Albine de Montholon that he had gone too far, but he was not one to apologise, and the hostilities continued. Faced with further demands to reduce the expense of his establishment, and a refusal to let him write to bankers who held his funds (a plot was feared), he had his servants gather up a large quantity of his table silver, hammer it out of shape and remove imperial devices, and sent it to be sold off for scrap in the square at Jamestown, in full view of the inhabitants and visiting Britons.23
Lowe retaliated by reducing the limits within which Napoleon was allowed to move, and ordered the number of his servants to be reduced by four. At the end of November 1816 Las Cases was arrested, having been caught trying to smuggle out a couple of letters – apparently a ploy to get himself sent back to Europe with the four servants who were being sent away. This diminished the miniature court which was a psychological support for the fallen emperor. Observing the routine etiquette became more difficult. A combination of monotony, boredom, bad weather, worse food, the sight of the sentries at every door and window, the petty restrictions and minor vexations, along with frequent indispositions caused by all of these, sapped morale as well as their health.
As a protest against Lowe’s restrictions on his movements, Napoleon isolated himself further. He stopped riding and even going for walks; the constant attendance of a British officer spoilt the pleasure. The lack of activity told on his physical condition. His dysuria had got worse, and according to Saint-Denis he would sometimes stand over his chamberpot for long periods, his head leaning against the wall, trying to urinate. By the end of 1816 he was also suffering from protracted coughing fits and fevers.24
On some days he did not bother to dress at all, keeping to his rooms and reading, usually one of his old favourites. He still dictated accounts of his campaigns, to Albine de Montholon who had taken over from Las Cases, and it seems that in the spring of 1817 he began an affair with her – presumably with her husband’s acquiescence, since there could have been no secrets in the confined space inhabited by so many (in January 1818 she would give birth to a daughter, Josephine, who was probably his).
After one of his visits to Longwood, Admiral Malcolm noted that Napoleon was ‘not displeased’ at the vexations being visited on him by Lowe, and derived some satisfaction from his accruing grievances. At a later meeting, Napoleon explained the reason to Lady Malcolm. ‘I have worn the imperial crown of France, the iron crown of Italy; England has now given me a greater and more glorious than either of them – for it is that worn by the Saviour of the world – a crown of thorns. Oppression and every insult that is offered to me only adds to my glory, and it is to the persecutions of England I shall owe the brightest part of my fame.’25
He composed a protest against the way he was being treated,
listing all the petty indignities and legally dubious procedures, which was written out on a piece of satin from one of Albine de Montholon’s dresses and sewn into the lining of the coat of one of the departing servants, the Corsican Santini, who on reaching London would contact the prominent radical General Sir Robert Wilson and get it published. It would fuel a debate initiated in the House of Lords by Lord Holland attacking the government for its shameful treatment of the captive emperor.26
Napoleon was aware that his companions were making notes and recording events for posterity, and he made sure they did not lack material. He reminisced about his childhood, his family, his love for Corsica, his time as a cadet and his later military and political exploits. He expounded his views on everything from religion to music, from women to war, reflected on what he had done and why, and discoursed on what he would have done if he had not been prevented. His monologues contain a deal of self-justification and blame of those who had supposedly failed or betrayed him, of circumstances and of ‘fate’. He returned time and again to subjects such as his Russian campaign, blaming treachery and bad luck. He denigrated most of his marshals, and dismissed the women he had loved with coarse comments on their attractions and desires. Unpleasant as much of it is, to anyone who does not know better the overall image that emerges from the material noted down by his four ‘evangelists’ is that of a man who meant well, tried to achieve the impossible, and was being horribly punished, indeed martyred, for it. Waterloo is reinvented as a kind of expiatory moral victory. And St Helena was the ideal Golgotha.
In June 1817 Malcolm and his wife sailed away, and the 53rd was also replaced. In July Dr O’Meara was expelled by Lowe, who suspected him of spying for Napoleon; the governor was increasingly suspicious of everyone, and having got wind of the meeting between Marchand and Welle, even had the Austrian commissioner expelled.
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