The Invisible Emperor

by Mark Braude

  Her husband’s exile was another among the many contentious issues under discussion. Talleyrand suggested to some of the other diplomats that an island somewhere farther away like the Azores would be a better place to send Napoleon. Castlereagh thought it possible for the allies to secure an island from the Portuguese, though he added that they would have to offer Napoleon compensation for the loss of Elba as a way to persuade him to change locations. Talleyrand wrote to Louis XVIII with this idea, mentioning his unease at the potential cost. The king replied that he would find a way to free up whatever money was necessary to see “the excellent idea of the Azores be carried out.” Talleyrand meanwhile made inquiries into the suitability of Trinidad, Saint Lucia, and Botany Bay as alternatives. Talleyrand was especially keen on Saint Helena, given its isolation in the South Atlantic. A Swiss diplomat wrote in his journal that the king of Bavaria had sworn to him that Napoleon’s move to Saint Helena was imminent.

  The Parisian papers began hinting that a fateful decision had been reached concerning Napoleon’s exile. Matters were made more complicated by the arrival in Vienna of Luigi Boncompagni, the ancestral Prince of Piombino, who brought a valise full of documents outlining in detail why he was the legitimate sovereign of Elba, which, as he argued, should have been handed to him when Napoleon abdicated. Meanwhile, whether motivated by cunning, malice, or economic pragmatism, Louis XVIII stood his ground on denying Napoleon his pension, even though this alienated him from the allied leaders in Vienna, who thought his decision not only rash but ignoble. Talleyrand told him that Alexander, Castlereagh, and Metternich were harassing him with questions about “the silence of the budget on this matter.” Alexander had complained that “the treaty isn’t being carried out, and we cannot depart from its stipulations in any way.” Alexander had asked Talleyrand how they could expect Napoleon to keep his word with them, “when we did not do so with him?”

  There had likely never been so many people talking politics in such a relatively confined space for so long as there were in Vienna that fall and winter. That much of this talk turned to the subject of Napoleon only reinforced how conspicuous he was by his absence. Many of the states represented at the congress had at some time or another been aligned with Napoleon, and the memories of those times were not all terrible. Like awkward strangers at a party abandoned by their host who seek comfort by discussing the foibles of their mutual friend, the delegates swapped endless stories about the emperor. One night’s salon might find the Duke of Rocca Romana, Murat’s handsome representative, spinning tales of his adventures in 1812, removing a glove to reveal the loss of four fingers to the Russian cold, while another would be commandeered by the naval hero Sidney Smith detailing how he’d handed “Boney” one of his rare defeats at the siege of Acre, the “key to Palestine.”

  Every battle he waged, every law he passed, every crime he committed could be dissected and debated. Some delegates even ventured to say that with his boundless energies Napoleon would have pushed the congress to resolve its issues at a pace far faster than the one set by the victorious but ineffective sovereigns, muddling through with so much talk and so little action. By the letter of the law, the Emperor of Elba should have been allowed to send his own emissary to Vienna, since his island was recognized as a sovereign principality. Europe’s rulers, however, were interpreting the technicalities of the Treaty of Fontainebleau as they saw fit, and it would have been bizarre to invite him to participate. Napoleon did send one of the Mulini’s chefs to Vienna to find employment as a courier so he could send back reports, but even with a loose network of supporters and informants, there was no way for him to keep up with the daily workings of the congress or of how the conversations in Vienna might somehow come to upend his life on Elba.

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  I THINK HE IS CAPABLE OF CROSSING OVER

  IN NOVEMBER, NAPOLEON SAW a copy of an edition of the London Courier, sent to him by a British Bonapartist, the Baroness Holland, which reported that the diplomats in Vienna were working to “finally determine the future residence of Napoleon Buonaparte” and that it was “believed to be quite certain” he would be transported from Elba as soon as the congress closed. The article mentioned the Caribbean island of Saint Lucia as the likely destination. (In his will, Napoleon would remember Lady Holland—who also sent him rare seeds and other items during his final exile—with the gift of a golden snuffbox.)

  Campbell had been the one to relay the baroness’s correspondence to Elba, either because he wasn’t worried about whatever effect the story in the Courier would have on Napoleon or because he was consciously trying to antagonize him, for whatever private reason. Napoleon asked Campbell how long he thought the congress would last, saying he didn’t think it was possible for so many rulers to be gathered for any decent stretch of time without some kind of rupture, but Campbell had no information that would allow him to predict the conference’s length any better than Napoleon could.

  After this conversation he wrote his most urgent letter yet to Castlereagh:

  If pecuniary difficulties press upon him much longer, so as to prevent his vanity from being satisfied by the ridiculous establishment of a court which he has hitherto supported in Elba, and if his doubts are not removed, I think he is capable of crossing over to Piombino with his troops, or of any other eccentricity. But if his residence in Elba and his income are secured to him, I think he will pass the rest of his life there in tranquility.

  With no clear sense of how the congress was unfolding, Napoleon assumed the worst. The threat of being sent to somewhere such as Saint Lucia or Saint Helena likely helped solidify whatever abstract thoughts of escape he might have had until that point. His decision to finally end the monthslong tax standoff in Capoliveri may have been prompted by the reports out of Vienna. If he was actively planning to leave he would have wanted to gather as much ready cash as possible. On November 16, Drouot sent twenty gendarmes, ten cavalry, and another 180 troops to Capoliveri, marching in time so they would arrive at the hilltop village as a fearsome whole. A priest suspected of leading the tax uprising was arrested along with two conspirators. The soldiers fired warning shots into the air, but the villagers still refused to pay, so Napoleon had quartered troops among the fifty families who owed the most taxes, with each soldier entitled to collect a heavy portion of meat and wine, a burden that finally made Capoliveri yield. All outstanding taxes were paid in the next few weeks and the troops were removed, though the priest remained imprisoned at Portoferraio.

  Campbell chose this tumultuous time to leave again for Florence. When he arrived there in late November he was likely shown a notice in the London Gazette announcing that he was to be knighted by the prince regent for “highly distinguished services” performed in Martinique, Guadalupe, Ciudad Rodrigo, and Salamanca, and for “the great zeal and ability manifested by him while attached to the Russian army.” The announcement made no mention of his current assignment.

  None of Campbell’s Tuscan contacts seemed concerned by his reports on the Tunisian corsair that had made contact with Portoferraio a few days earlier, nor did anyone have much to tell him about the recent interrogation of a Bonapartist agent arrested at Livorno while traveling back from Elba. In the meantime, Ricci had written to tell him that Elban troops were loading guns and shot onto the Inconstant, which was being prepared to sail, apparently for a trade run.

  Frustrated by the indifference of the Tuscan officials and irked by Ricci’s letter, Campbell decided his worries about Napoleon trumped any desire for secrecy. He sought out the French agent Hyde de Neuville and spoke openly with him about his role on Elba:

  I showed him Lord Castlereagh’s instructions, and gave him every information connected with my own duties, Napoleon’s situation, and his dispositions, desiring to call his attention to the unlimited freedom of person and communication with the Continent which Napoleon possessed. I then distinctly pronounced to him my opinion that Napoleon was not sufficiently watc
hed; that I had no means of preventing him from escaping; that he was still of a most restless disposition; that discontented persons of an adventurous spirit from France and Italy frequented Elba; that it was a very suspicious circumstance, the communication held with the Tunisian ship; that I had traced her coming to Elba. I even supposed it possible to him, that a conspiracy might be formed in Napoleon’s favour at Toulon [where the Tunisian corsair had reportedly docked]; he could be conveyed in that ship.

  Hyde de Neuville transcribed everything Campbell told him and rushed to Paris to advise officials to send another patrol squadron from Toulon to enforce a closer watch on Elba and that troops garrisoned in southern France should be switched out to ensure that only loyal men who hadn’t made arrangements with anyone from Elba would be stationed there. Hyde de Neuville told Beugnot they should weed out any officials in Corsica of dubious character and should look more closely at any French representatives along the Italian peninsula, while doubling efforts to intercept letters from Elba to France. He also wrote directly to Louis XVIII, warning that

  the English will do little or nothing to keep him on his island. If he leaves, he can again overturn Italy or start a civil war in France. . . . I continue to believe that one must put the seas between him and Europe.

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  THE OIL MERCHANT AND OTHER VISITORS

  ON THE LAST DAY of November a dapper Italian disembarked at Portoferraio and presented a passport in the name of Alessandro Forli to Cambronne, who was charged with overseeing the lazaretto. He appeared to be a prosperous Italian merchant and said he’d come to sell olive oil. He arrived alongside a well-known Italian nationalist who claimed to want to organize a Bonapartist insurrection on the peninsula, and this man’s company was enough to vouch for the merchant’s character. He installed himself in Portoferraio and spent a good part of each day lounging at the Buon Gusto on the main square. He had a good ear for accents and could usually guess people’s origins with great accuracy, which he used as a way to strike up conversations with strangers.

  Alessandro Forli was almost certainly an alias; to French officials he was known only by his code name: the Oil Merchant. He was likely a career spy, fond of veiled meanings and invisible inks, and always dubious about any information acquired, striving in his reports to filter out as much café talk as possible. He was astute to pose as a seller of fine oils, likely assuming that the members of the exiled entourage could be enticed by the promise of good eating in any season and despite reportedly dwindling funds. He never breached the Mulini palace directly but managed to sell oil to Madame Mère’s household and to others close to Napoleon’s inner circle. In one report he complained that so much of his day was spent actually conducting his oil business that there was little time left for spying. But there were enough people at the Buon Gusto with lips loosened by the earthy aleatico to keep him alerted to any major developments.

  Women provided him with much of his information and were evidently drawn to him; among his unknowing informants were the mistress of a commandant of the Guard and the wife of an officer employed at the Mulini. From the commandant’s mistress he learned of a conversation in which Napoleon asked Drouot, “What do you think? Would it be too soon to leave the island at Carnival time?” He approached this hearsay cautiously, just as he did when some drunken soldiers boasted that they would return Napoleon to the throne as soon as their friends on the continent were ready. Nor did he panic when he overheard some Italian travelers saying that as soon as Napoleon appeared on the peninsula, fifty thousand men would rally to his side. He knew that there were many frustrated men on Elba and beyond who claimed to be ready to follow Napoleon, but he remained convinced, at least for the time being, that this was all just daydreaming and grumbling.

  The Oil Merchant’s reports flowed to Talleyrand via a diplomat named François Antoine Mariotti, the French consul at Livorno, who numbered among the network of agents, informants, and officials that Talleyrand had assembled to gather information about Napoleon, his court, and anyone suspected of harboring sympathy for his cause. Born in Corsica, Mariotti had helped Napoleon to secure Elba more than a decade earlier as a battalion chief in the army. He’d also served as the longtime personal guard to Elisa Bonaparte, who, perhaps for romantic reasons, tried to secure him a promotion until Napoleon rejected the request. After Mariotti rallied to the Bourbon cause, Talleyrand had posted him to Livorno, naming him a baron as soon as he took up the post. Mariotti made gathering intelligence about Napoleon his only real job, ensuring that no letter made it through Livorno without his first seeing it, including Campbell’s private correspondence. He referred to himself as a “machine” built specifically to fight Napoleon.

  Through the Oil Merchant and other informants, Mariotti came to know the most intimate details about Napoleon’s life on Elba: whom he dined with and when, how much he paid for his properties, and how often he exercised. When Napoleon’s carriage crushed a chicken just outside Porto Longone and the bird’s owner, failing to get compensation for her loss, cursed the emperor and the foul winds that had brought him to Elba, Mariotti knew about it, and when a few days later an ordinance was posted forbidding Elbans to let their chickens roam free in the streets, he knew about that as well. He knew that Napoleon had only left his tent twice during the whole time of Marie Walewska’s visit to the mountain hermitage.

  Talleyrand shared pertinent information gleaned from Mariotti’s reports with Louis XVIII, Tsar Alexander, and Metternich. One item that caught his attention in November claimed that some Elban troops had been in contact with Murat, and told of the Inconstant’s recent friendly exchanges with the Tunisians who had docked at Portoferraio. This led Talleyrand to think, as Campbell had, that Napoleon was crafting some kind of southern alliance. “The conclusion which I draw from all this,” he wrote to Louis XVIII, “is that it would be well to get rid without delay of the man of the island of Elba, and of Murat.”

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  • • •

  THE OIL MERCHANT WASN’T the only stranger to show up in Portoferraio in the last weeks of fall. Drifting soldiers on half-pay came to haunt the doors of the Mulini in sporadic bursts, eager to flatter their hero. Among them was an old grognard who recounted a long journey filled with nights spent on sweat-stained cots and thin mattresses. He said that in cafés and billiard rooms all the way from Lyon to Genoa people said again and again how much they hoped for the glorious return of their emperor. The Bourbons wouldn’t last another six months, he predicted, and any fool who had once believed that with the restoration “the larks would tumble into their mouths ready roasted” was by now sorely disappointed. He claimed that only a few nobles and members of clergy remained loyal to Louis XVIII and that they were “cowards who wouldn’t dare to show themselves” if Napoleon returned to take his throne.

  British travelers were also often granted audiences with Napoleon. A Welsh copper-master named Vivian claimed that when he showed up unannounced at the Bertrand house asking to see the Emperor of Elba, Henri invited him to dine, lent him some books, pressed tickets into his hands for an upcoming ball, and later took him to meet all three Bonapartes on the island. Pauline complained to him about how badly her brother was being misrepresented in the papers, while Fanny Bertrand explained to him how the Bourbons had managed to rob Napoleon of nearly all his wealth. There is little reason to doubt Vivian’s account, or that of the Whig politician Lord Ebrington, who wrote that when he visited Elba, Napoleon asked him if he would be stoned by an angry mob if he were to walk down the streets of London, to which he answered that he would be safe, “since the violent feelings which had been excited against him were daily subsiding now that we are no longer at war.” By flattering British visitors with his presence, Napoleon was able to gather information about developments on the mainland while also setting them up to return home with sympathetic reports about his supposedly shabby treatment at the hands of the Bourbons.

  All of these vi
sits put spies and their superiors on alert, though no one was sure exactly how to react to this information. The wealthy diplomat John Fane, Lord Burghersh, who had recently accepted a post in Florence making him the senior British official in the region, wrote to Castlereagh about some British travelers who had been “received with attention,” and added that all sorts of “foreigners” had been given audiences with Napoleon, who always spoke “without reserve upon the many transactions of his life. From the general manner of his reception, it is difficult to decide the degree of importance which should be attached to the visits of persons of intriguing characters.”

  Tuscan officials meanwhile questioned a Frenchwoman named Berluc who returned from Elba after reportedly enjoying a romantic liaison with a captain of the Guard, which had allowed her access to Pauline’s inner circle. She told her interrogators that Napoleon was actively recruiting and training a small army with the aim of returning to the continent. She said he would land either in southern France or on the Ligurian coast. Police Chief Beugnot did nothing with this information except to write to Louis XVIII that while Napoleon undoubtedly had ambitions to return “to trouble the world,” there was no feasible way he could pull it off. “They speak of his army,” he wrote. “As if he would land in France with seven or eight hundred men, of which the most part would desert as soon as they could!”