The events that ended in the voyage of the fallen Emperor to St. Helena, if told in full, would make a long story. The battle of Waterloo, however, is a good starting place, the battle that decided the peace of Europe after its long years of war, when the Allied Powers, led by the Duke of Wellington, defeated the French, who had rallied around Napoleon for a last stand.

Napoleon, when he saw that the day was lost for him and the French, fought desperately, hoping perhaps to meet death. But he seemed to have a charmed life, and, though he plunged into the thick of the fight, he was not even wounded.

Some of his friends advised him to continue the struggle, but he saw that this might mean civil war for France as well as a long contest against the Allies. He cared too much for France to drag her into further wars. Some say that in giving up he could not help himself,—that what he did he had to do. Be that as it may, for a second time he signed the Act of Abdication, and after proclaiming his son Napoleon II, he left Paris. First he went to Malmaison, once the beautiful home of Josephine, where a few friends joined him.

When the Allies were approaching Paris, Napoleon offered his services to the Provisional Government, promising to retire when the enemy was driven away. But the men now at the head of affairs at Paris were afraid to give authority of any kind to Napoleon, even for a limited time. He had broken one promise, he might break another, and they refused his offer.

Napoleon now thought of America. Certain Americans in Paris had offered him help. One shipping merchant, a Massachusetts man, had an excellent plan, which, had Napoleon followed it, might have resulted in his reaching America safely. But Napoleon delayed, and although he did not know it at the time, when he left Malmaison for Rochefort on June 29 he was too late. Up to the last he hoped to reach a vessel that would carry him safely to the United States. It is said that he gave up the plan proposed by the American shipping merchant because he would not desert his friends, and for the time there seemed to be no way of providing for them.

It takes strength of mind for a man to decide to live out his destiny rather than run away from life. Napoleon now decided to make the best of things. With British ships practically blockading the coast, he saw that to try to escape was hopeless. He heard with dismay that Paris had surrendered to the Allies, and that the Provisional Government, that might have helped him, had dissolved. His last effort was to suggest sending a flag of truce by Generals Savary and Las Cases to Captain Maitland, commander of the British squadron, asking to be allowed to pass out of the harbor. He gave his word of honor that he would then go directly to America. Captain Maitland replied that even if he himself could grant this request, Napoleon's vessel would be attacked as soon as it had left the harbor. Napoleon at last had to admit that the end had come when the report was brought him that Louis XVIII was again seated on the throne of France. He therefore again sent two officers to Captain Maitland, offering to surrender on condition that no harm should come to his person or property. Another condition was that he should be allowed to live where he pleased in England as a private individual. The officer replied that he could not make terms, but that he would probably take Napoleon and his suite to England as soon as he should receive word from the Prince Regent. This answer was disappointing to Napoleon, but there was nothing now for him to do except to set out for the Bellerophon, Captain Maitland's ship, with the flag of truce.

"I come to claim the protection of your prince and your laws," he said in French, as he advanced on the quarter-deck to meet Captain Maitland.

Soon after this he wrote the following letter in French to the Prince Regent:

Royal Highness:

Exposed to the factions which divide my country and to the enmity of the great Powers of Europe, I have terminated my political career, and I come like Themistocles to throw myself on the hospitality of the British nation. I place myself under the safeguard of their laws and claim protection of your Royal Highness, the most powerful, the most constant, and the most generous of my enemies.

Napoleon.

It is not to be supposed that all this time Napoleon's friends were indifferent to his fate. Those who were near enough to communicate with him made various suggestions.

At Rochefort his brother Joseph offered to disguise himself and change places with him, so that the Emperor might get away in the same vessel in which he himself was preparing to escape. Had Napoleon agreed to this plan, he would probably have been as successful as Joseph in reaching America.

Some young and brave French officers are said to have offered themselves as the crew of a rowing boat to carry Napoleon safely through the blockading fleet. There would have been some risk in carrying out this proposal of stealing through the blockade, but it had a fair chance of success.

There were also swift neutral vessels not far away, on more than one of which he had friends. But although, with three of his suite, he did embark on a Danish ship, on second thoughts he decided not to venture farther, and returned to shore. He might have accepted the suggestion of the captain of a French frigate then at the Ile d'Aix, who begged Napoleon to take the chance of intrusting himself to him. He would, he said, attack a British ship near by, and while the attention of other vessels was fixed on the encounter, a second French frigate with Napoleon on board would carry him far outside the harbor to safety. But this offer, too, was put aside. The admirers of Napoleon, who look back on his days of indecision at Rochefort, wonder at the change in the man, who by his policy of delay brought on himself his sad exile on the barren island.

Yet it is easy to see that even though half willing to try flight, Napoleon really could not bring himself to the position of a fugitive, afraid to face his enemies. It was nobler to confront danger, as he had confronted it often on the battlefield. It was not strange that he should hope to find appreciation of his courage, even in the hearts of his enemies.

It was the fifteenth of July when Napoleon embarked on the Bellerophon, and a week afterwards he was in Plymouth Harbor. Too late, to his great consternation, he found that the British regarded him as a prisoner. He was helpless; he had no weapons but words, for armed vessels surrounded him and the few friends who followed him counted for nothing against his foes.

On the thirtieth of July, General Bonaparte—the British refused him the title of Emperor—was notified that the British Government had chosen St. Helena as his future residence, whither a limited number of his friends might accompany him. On receiving this word, Napoleon's indignation was loudly expressed. He replied, that he was not the prisoner, but the guest of England, and that it was an outrage against him to condemn him to exile into which he would not willingly go. It was at once evident, however, that, willing or unwilling, he must embark for his distant prison. From Plymouth he was taken to Torbay, where, on the eleventh of August, the Bellerophon met the Northumberland, on which the illustrious prisoner was to be taken to St. Helena.

When Napoleon received Lord Keith and Sir George Cockburn on the deck of the Bellerophon he wore a green coat with red facings, epaulets, white waistcoat and breeches, silk stockings, the star of the Legion of Honor, and a chapeau gris with the tricolored cockade. At first the Emperor spoke bitterly of the action of the British Government, but at last he abruptly asked Lord Keith for his advice. The latter replied it would be best for Napoleon to submit with good grace. Napoleon then agreed to go on board the Northumberland at ten the next morning. Later he recalled his consent and again talked bitterly of his fate, but at last he controlled himself and agreed to submit.

The next day, after all the stores and provisions and the personal belongings of Napoleon and his suite were on board, the Northumberland, with its distinguished prisoner, set sail for St. Helena.

With Napoleon went a fairly large suite, consisting of the following persons:

Grand Mareschal Comte de Bertrand, Madame de Bertrand and three children, one woman servant and her child, one man servant; General Comte de Montholon, Madame de Montholon and a child, one woman servant; Comte de las Cases and his son of thirteen; General Gorgaud; three valets de chambre and three footmen, a cook, a lampiste, an usher, a steward, chef d'office.

Among the things that made up the rather large store of baggage that Napoleon took with him to St. Helena, besides his clothing and more personal belongings, were two table services of silver, a number of articles of gold, a beautiful toilet service of silver, including water basin and ewer, cases of books, and his special beds. Although money could do little for him in his new home, since all his expenses would be met by the British Government, it is known that he had with him a large amount of money.

It is useless now to discuss what would have been the result had his enemies been kinder to Napoleon. If he had been permitted to settle down in England as he wished, as a country gentleman, would this have satisfied him? Even if he had made no attempt to recover the throne of France for himself, might he not have put forth efforts to have his son acknowledged Emperor? At the time of his father's downfall, the little King of Rome was hardly more than a baby, but as years passed on he could never have lived contentedly with his grandfather, the Austrian Emperor, knowing that his father was as near as England. In the name of the young Napoleon, Europe might again have been plunged into a great war.

Yet, without looking toward the future, Great Britain was only too sure that the time had come to punish one who had always been the avowed enemy of England. It is true that England had suffered less than any other of the Powers at the hands of Napoleon, because he had never invaded her territory, but in no country was Napoleon so hated. Thousands of Englishmen had shed their blood in the wars carried on against him by the Allies, and by the mass of the English people he was regarded as a monster. Although the so-called Napoleonic wars had their origin in causes that Napoleon could not have controlled, he was regarded as the one being responsible for the twenty years' upheaval in Europe.

When it was announced that the British Cabinet had decided to send him into exile, many, perhaps the majority, thought the punishment too light. They would have had him treated as a rebel and immediately hanged or beheaded. Yet while the mass of the English people hated Napoleon, Englishmen who had ever met him were apt to be his firm friends, or at least his admirers.

Captain Maitland, of the Bellerophon, said that he had inquiries made of the crew as to their opinion of him, and this was the result: "They may abuse that man as much as they please, but if the people of England knew him as well as we do, they would not touch a hair of his head."

Though Napoleon had surrendered to Great Britain alone, the Allied Powers, desiring Great Britain to be responsible for him, approved her course.

During the voyage of ten weeks toward St. Helena, Napoleon suffered little from sea-sickness after the first few days. He breakfasted in his own cabin at ten or eleven o'clock. Before he dined he generally played a game of chess, and remained at dinner, in compliment to the Admiral, about an hour. After he had his coffee he left the others to walk with Count Bertrand or Count Las Cases on the quarter-deck. He often spoke to those officers who could understand French. At first he showed little interest in the occupations of those about him, but in time he engaged in more general conversation and was especially inclined to talk to Mr. Warden, the Northumberland surgeon, about the prevailing complaints on board the ship and his methods of treating the sick. After a while he turned to his own books and spent most of the day reading or in dictating to Las Cases. On the twenty-third of August the Northumberland crossed the equator. Before this the Admiral had amused himself trying to frighten the French, telling them of the rough ceremony practised by the sailors, who always undertook to present to Neptune all persons on board who had never before crossed the line. It happened, however, that in this instance all made a special effort to be courteous. While the sailors presented to Neptune were shaved with huge razors and a lather of pitch, the French were introduced politely with compliments, and the Emperor was treated especially well.

Napoleon seemed amused by this novel performance, and later he wished to have one hundred napoleons divided among the sailors. He was made, however, to feel his altered position when, after some discussion, the Admiral courteously but decidedly refused his request.

There were probably few on the Northumberland who did not deeply sympathize with the fallen Emperor. On this long, monotonous voyage, when his only amusements were conversation and an occasional evening game of whist with his friends, he seemed to be trying to make the best of the situation.

On the morning when the Northumberland approached St. Helena, the Emperor dressed early, and going up on deck stepped forward on the gangway. It was the fifteenth of October when the ship, after its long voyage, lay at anchor. The Emperor, standing on the gangway with Las Cases behind him, looked through his glass at the shore. Directly in front he saw a little village, surrounded by barren and naked hills, reaching toward the clouds. Wherever he looked, on every platform, at every aperture, on every hill, was a cannon. Las Cases, watching his face intently, could perceive no change of expression, for Napoleon now had full control of himself. Unmoved he could look on the island that was to be his prison, perhaps his grave. He did not stay long on deck, but, turning about, asked Las Cases to lead the way to his cabin. There they went on with their usual occupation, waiting until they should be told that the time for landing had come.

During the long voyage Napoleon had won the regard of most persons on the ship. The Northumberland was terribly crowded, but while others grumbled, he made no complaint of the great discomfort, although he, like the others, was affected by it. Already he had begun to practise that stoicism which, on the whole, was the keynote of his life at St. Helena.