František Xaver Sandmann  (1805–1856), Napoléon à Sainte-Hélène, circa 1820

Why was Napoleon exiled to St. Helena?

The mere mention of his name sends shivers down the spines of Europe's greatest men. So when Napoleon surrendered to his enemies, the Allies wanted only one thing: to get rid of the ogre once and for all.

The beginning of the end: Waterloo

It is said that Napoleon was to remain an islander. Born in Corsica, the emperor was exiled after his first abdication in 1814 to the island of Elba, off the Italian coast. He was almost sent to St. Helena in 1815, as Elba was rightly criticized for its lack of security. Ironically, the British government refused the move, which only delayed the deadline for Napoleon’s last cruise.

Certainly, the island of Elba lacked the height to keep the little corporal from sneaking out. Leaving the tiny kingdom he had been granted after three hundred days, he returned to the mainland and set off for the Flight of the Eagle, initiating the Hundred Days (which counted his time back in power), ousting Louis XVIII before being defeated on June 18, 1815 at Waterloo by the hastily and successfully reformed Allied coalition.

Manière noire de Jazet d'après Steuben, publiée par Jazet et Théodore, Vibert, Bance et Schroth, 1870 © National Army Museum
Manière noire de Jazet d'après Steuben, publiée par Jazet et Théodore, Vibert, Bance et Schroth, 1870 ©

After this crushing defeat, Napoleon managed to leave the battlefield and began his escape. He first headed for Paris, where he hoped to play a political role, but failed. He then took the road to Malmaison, giving Joseph Fouché, then head of the provisional government, enough time to betray him by reporting the deposed Emperor’s plans to the Allies already on his tail. Napoleon’s plans were now known: to reach Rochefort and set sail for America. The British fleet was immediately mobilized to block his escape. In the meantime, Louis XVIII’s policemen set off to catch up with the infernal fugitive.

Napoleon now had two options: to escape by hiding in a fast boat, capable of escaping the English blockade, and placed at his disposal, or “to abandon himself to the generosity of the Regent of Great Britain”.

"Like Themistocles, I have come to sit at the hearth of the British people", Napoleon becomes an Anglophile

The game is afoot, and each protagonist has a card to play. Napoleon doesn’t speak a word of English, he doesn’t understand British culture, but he’s not unaware of Albion’s liberal right of asylum. At the same time, the British claim Napoleon as their deserved trophy. After more than twenty years of fighting him, they asserted their right to make him a prestigious prize of war. The Allies are not opposed to this demand, as long as Great Britain takes responsibility, at its own expense, for the prisoner’s upkeep and close, necessary surveillance. If the victorious coalition at Waterloo had its way, Bonaparte’s fate would have been sealed in a radical and expeditious manner, and at no extra cost.

Napoléon se rendant au capitaine Maitland à bord du Bellerophon, illustration de Charles Joseph Staniland, 1916
Napoléon se rendant au capitaine Maitland à bord du Bellerophon, illustration de Charles Joseph Staniland.

Meanwhile, Napoleon refused to flee into hiding, like a common fugitive. All the more so as the legislation in force among his English enemies could work in his favor, and give him a chance to live out his days in peace. In any case, that’s what Cambacérès and other eminent jurists were betting on in the wake of the Belgian debacle.

So the Emperor played his last card and, as a show of (false?) good will, surrendered himself to the English forces by joining the Bellerophon, a ship anchored in Rochefort harbor, shortly after 6am on July 15, 1815.

I have come to place myself under the protection of your prince and your laws […] The fate of arms has brought me to my cruelest enemy, but I am counting on his loyalty.

The next day, the ship sails for England. Meanwhile, in London, we still don’t know what to do with this prestigious, but oh so cumbersome prisoner. Send him to prison in England? To Scotland? Suggestions of St. Helena, Malta and Gibraltar were once again on the table. The most important thing, it was thought, was to find the most remote and perfectly secure location. But Bonaparte’s popularity was not to be taken into account.

An unexpected welcome in Torquay harbour

The orders transmitted to the Bellerophon were very clear: Napoleon was not to leave the ship or set foot on British soil, as the law of the land would have to be applied to him. And given the welcome Bonaparte received once the ship reached the Devon coast, these precautions were not too much to ask!

As soon as the Bellerophon docked in Torquay harbor at dawn, news of its famous passenger spread like wildfire. Soon dozens, then hundreds, and by the next day nearly a thousand canoes loaded with curious onlookers were trying to catch a glimpse of the famous emperor. And, against all odds, British phlegm wins out over fear, anger or revenge. Canoeists greet Bonaparte in a friendly manner, women wave their handkerchiefs and others even throw him flowers!

John James Chalon (1778 - 1854), Scène dans le détroit de Plymouth en août 1815 : Le « Bellérophon » avec Napoléon à bord à Plymouth (26 juillet - 4 août 1815)
John James Chalon, Scène dans le détroit de Plymouth en août 1815 : Le « Bellérophon » avec Napoléon à bord à Plymouth (26 juillet - 4 août 1815)

On deck, Napoleon naturally found the welcome charming. Reassured by this joyful arrival, he took up his pen and addressed a letter to the future George IV (1762 – 1830). In this missive, which never reached the Prince Regent, Bonaparte showed his humility, announcing that he wished to “come and sit at the hearth of the British people”. In all simplicity, he asked the future sovereign for a small estate near London, where he and a few of his retinue could quietly end their days. It seems that Napoleon already saw himself as a gentleman farmer, happily observing the course of the world from his luxury cottage!

Having no doubt dreamed of making England part of his empire, it would be amusing if the enemy island were to become his land of asylum. But that doesn’t amuse some members of the British Parliament! If he stays too long in Torquay, this damned Frenchman will end up winning over popular fervor if we’re not careful! All the more so as it only takes one of his two feet treading Devon soil for him to be able to legally lodge a habeas corpus petition, which we fear will be honestly granted.

Habeas corpus and Napoleon's disillusionment

This was the pride and weakness of the English. The Magna Carta, drawn up in June 1215, established the respective rights of the king and the barons, as well as the Church and the towns, in the government of the kingdom. At the beginning of the 19th century, it was still in force (with a few exceptions, especially in Napoleonic times). Article 39 states that “No free man shall be arrested or imprisoned, or dispossessed of his property, or declared an outlaw, or exiled, or executed in any manner whatsoever, and we shall not act against him nor send anyone against him, without a lawful judgment of his peers and in accordance with the law of the land.”

In 1679, this text was supplemented by the Habeas Corpus Act guaranteeing individual liberty, in order to avoid arbitrary detention through judicial justification, by giving the detainee the right to appear immediately. This applied to anyone on British soil. Napoleon and his advisors believed that these laws would provide the deposed emperor with an honorable retirement. But he still had to put his foot down. And everything was done to ensure that never happened.

Napoléon à bord du Bellerophon. Peinture de Sir William Quiller Orchardson (1832-1910), exposée en 1880 - © Wikipedia

The island of St. Helena was chosen as Napoleon’s last place of residence. The fact that it was lost in the middle of the Atlantic, between Brazil and Angola, was already an advantage. Unlike Elba, Napoleon would be so far from any continent that to escape would be considered a complete absurdity. Added to this were reports by specially commissioned officers measuring the island’s advantages as a prison. Firstly, its small size meant that it could be defended with very few resources, especially as St. Helena was already bristling with English guns and only accessible via the port of St. James, the rest being steep, immense, sharp cliffs. Few people live here, and any stranger is immediately spotted. And, the icing on the cake, the island doesn’t belong to the British crown, but to the East India Company. The nuance is subtle, but legally precious, as it prevents Napoleon from falling under the authority of Magna Carta and habeas corpus. The terms of the detention were carefully drawn up by both parties, the government and the shipping company, so that the English were solely in charge of Napoleon’s detention. A special commissioner was appointed to represent the Russians, Prussians and Austrians.

Napoleon’s fate was sealed. He may not have set foot in England, but he is about to taste the delights of his empire. He may not have set foot in England, but he’s about to taste the delights of his Empire. Ironically, the English can say the same of his freshly collapsed empire.

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François Bouchot (1800–1842), Orangerie du parc de Saint-Cloud — Coup d'État des 18-19 brumaire an VIII — Le général Bonaparte au Conseil des Cinq-Cents, à Saint Cloud. 10 novembre 1799. Huile sur toile, 1840, Musée national du Château de Versailles

How did Napoleon Bonaparte come to power?

18 Brumaire, Year VII: Napoleon Bonaparte orchestrates the slowest coup d’état in the history of France.

An emperor is not made alone, nor in a day. At the root of his rise are an iron will and hard work, luck and the talent of surrounding himself well.

Jacques Sablet, La salle des Cinq-Cent à Saint-Cloud le soir du 18 brumaire an VIII. Huile sur toile, 1799, Musée d’arts de Nantes
Jacques Sablet, La salle des Cinq-Cent à Saint-Cloud le soir du 18 brumaire an VIII. Huile sur toile, 1799, Musée d’arts de Nantes

Our young Corsican was on the eve of his twenties when the Bastille was taken in July 1789. From this pivotal moment, everything happened in quick succession and his career truly began. In September 1793, he entered the siege of Toulon as a captain and left as a general in December. In 1796, he left for the Italian campaign. France was then a Republic, the first in its history. Marked by different periods, it opened with the National Convention – sadly famous for its episode of the Terror – from 1792 to 1795. A new constitution inaugurated a new chapter: the Directory, from 1795 to 1799. This regime was characterized by an executive power divided between five directors, heads of government and regularly renewed, between whom the ministers were distributed. The legislature is entrusted to two assemblies: the Council of Elders – ancestor of the Senate – and the Council of Five Hundred (comparable to our National Assembly). This political system, which aims to avoid tyranny, sits in the Luxembourg Palace in Paris.

It was precisely under the Directory that Napoleon began his historic rise, taking advantage of the difficult context in which the government was mired. The political instability and violence that accompanied the Revolution went hand in hand with an exhausting fight against the European coalitions directed against the French Republic as well as a fierce struggle, within the country itself, against the Chouans, royalist insurgents. The already deplorable economic situation did not improve. Because while the Directory set about laying the foundations of a solid financial system, cleaning up finances, making direct taxes fairer, indirect taxes multiplied and increased considerably. Public opinion mainly remembered the requisitions and forced loans, the permanent fighting and the no less so fumbling around. However, the foundations laid by the Directory would serve the following regime, the Consulate, with Napoleon Bonaparte at its head.

The Deserting General: Napoleon from Egypt to Paris

It was the recriminations against the Directory and serious military setbacks on the German, Italian and Swiss fronts that created the opportunity that Bonaparte knew how to seize. Considered the hero of the Italian campaign, the general who succeeded in everything had been in Egypt since May 1798. In July, the Battle of the Pyramids established the general’s prestige while Admiral Nelson sank his dreams of the Orient on 1st August in the harbor of Aboukir: the French fleet was annihilated. Other victories – as well as other defeats – still awaited him, until the victorious (land) Battle of Aboukir on 25 July 1799.

Antoine-Jean Gros, Bataille d’Aboukir, 25 juillet 1799. Huile sur toile, 1807, Château de Versailles
Antoine-Jean Gros, Bataille d’Aboukir, 25 juillet 1799. Huile sur toile, 1807, Château de Versailles

At the end of the latter, news of the French political situation reaches him; it is far from being cheerful. The Italian conquests that he has so highly staged in slick propaganda are lost and others seem on the verge of being so. Well aware that his flattering reputation as a victorious and peace-making general is still very much alive in France, carefully maintained by his brother Lucien (deputy to the Council of Five Hundred), General Bonaparte decides to return to France, without having received the order. In a word: he deserts, a choice in good taste, matching the landscape of North Africa.

Surrounded by the British, he nevertheless managed to slip away, taking with him the chief of staff Louis-Alexandre Berthier, General Joachim Murat, Brigadier General Auguste-Frédéric Viesse de Marmont, Major General Jean Lannes and the battalion commander and brigade commander Géraud-Christophe-Michel Duroc. He also did not forget the mathematician Gaspard Monge, the chemist Claude-Louis Berthollet and the great narrator of his adventures, the writer Dominique-Vivant Denon. This fine crew arrived in Fréjus on the evening of October 8; Bonaparte and Berthier left without delay for Paris.

Le débarquement à Fréjus, en octobre 1799, de Napoléon Bonaparte. Gravure anonyme © Mairie de Fréjus
Le débarquement à Fréjus, en octobre 1799, de Napoléon Bonaparte. Gravure anonyme © Mairie de Fréjus

Triumphant Return

In the meantime, the French military situation had been restored, but the Directory was not in odour of sanctity and all that was missing was the surprise arrival of the general to add fuel to the fire. Because all along the road that led him to Paris, the deserter was acclaimed and welcomed as a saviour (not to say as a king). While his superiors should, at the very least, have raised their voices, the news of his resounding victory at Aboukir reached Paris before him and made the headlines. Bonaparte, who had grown impatient during the crossing of the Mediterranean, worried about arriving too late and missing his chance, could not have entered the capital under better auspices. He now appeared to public opinion as the providential man.

It was the first time since the Revolution that a proper name was heard on everyone’s lips. Until then, people had said: the National Constituent Assembly had done such and such a thing, the people, the Convention; now, people spoke only of this man who was to put himself in everyone’s place, and make the human species anonymous.

Madame de Staël, Considérations sur les principaux événements de la Révolution française, tome 2, 1817, p. 8.

Preparation of the Coup

Certainly, Napoleon Bonaparte is acclaimed, but the clamour is not unanimous. What marks this triumphant return, however, are the votes he wins in all political camps. From the royalists to the Jacobins, he finds supporters who see in him what they want to see, because for the general only one thing is clear: he must absolutely keep his political intentions vague. If he now sees power coming within his reach, he is perfectly aware that the only way to bring down the Directory is to resort to a coup d’état that would be supported by public opinion. It is a question of flouting the political authority representing the people with the latter’s approval, of composing a “civil” coup d’état in a way. To do this, he must secure the necessary alliances without revealing them, and let each camp understand that he could be its ally. But most of the choices are quickly discarded. His former mentor Paul Barras, director of the Republic, is too associated with previous regimes, the Jacobins too unpopular. There remains Emmanuel-Joseph Sieyès (1748 – 1836), known as Abbé Sieyès, a strong personality whose skin reactions to contact with Bonaparte’s ego are easy to sense.

Jacques-Louis David  (1748–1825), Portrait d'Emmanuel-Joseph Sieyès. Huile sur toile, 1817, Fogg Museum, USA
Jacques-Louis David (1748–1825), Portrait d'Emmanuel-Joseph Sieyès. Huile sur toile

However, Sieyès and Lucien Bonaparte had drafted a constitution during the summer, which played in favour of the “civil” ambition of Bonaparte’s seizure of power. Although the two figures looked at each other with suspicion, they knew that they were mutually useful, and this was how the coup d’état of 18 Brumaire brought the two men to power.

18 Brumaire Year VII, another name for November 9, 1799

If we think about the 18th, we should also take into account the 19th Brumaire because this coup d’état took surprisingly long! It took two days to overthrow the Directory. The coup is perhaps the least appropriate term to describe this historical event, and the word “trap” would rather be preferable.

Two parts organized the dismissal of the regime in place. First, on the 18th, the movement of the representative assemblies of Paris to Saint-Cloud was organized. In order to justify this exceptional (and legal) arrangement, the organizers of the coup argued that a plot to assassinate the deputies had just been uncovered. To remove the representatives of the State from Paris, they were isolated so that their protection could be better ensured by the military troops led by Bonaparte. On the 19th, in Saint-Cloud, the deputies were heavily encouraged to vote for a change of regime, but some refused, guessing the real reason for the presence of the military. Bonaparte intervened with a speech so clumsy and awkward that even Louis Antoine Bourrienne (1769 – 1834), his friend and supporter, invited him to leave the room where the furious deputies were sitting.

François Bouchot (1800–1842), Orangerie du parc de Saint-Cloud — Coup d'État des 18-19 brumaire an VIII — Le général Bonaparte au Conseil des Cinq-Cents, à Saint Cloud. 10 novembre 1799. Huile sur toile, 1840, Musée national du Château de Versailles
François Bouchot (1800–1842)

The heated negotiations thus stretched over two days and it was on the evening of the 19th that Lucien Bonaparte, at the head of the presidency of the Council of Five Hundred, declared the chamber legally constituted. The next day, the directorial power was entrusted to three provisional consuls: Bonaparte was the first and would remain so, then came Sieyès and Roger Ducos (1747 – 1816).

The Consulate was officially installed on January 1st, 1800 (11 Nivôse Year VIII). It was headed by the First Consul Napoleon Bonaparte, the Second Consul, Jean-Jacques-Régis de Cambacérès (1753 – 1824) and the Third Consul, Charles-François Lebrun (1739 – 1824). These were three different political sensibilities that aimed for a return to national cohesion and understanding. However, this new triumvirate was not to everyone’s taste, but no matter: for the years to come, it was now Napoleon who would have to be reckoned with.

Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres  (1780–1867), Bonaparte, premier consul. Huile sur toile, 1803 - 1804, Musée des beaux-arts de Liège
Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres (1780–1867),

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