if he enters, it shall be over a corpse.  Give me my pistols,” and it is said by Montholon, to whom the Emperor was dictating at the time of the intrusion, that Sir Hudson heard this answer and retired confounded.  The ultimatum dazed him, but he was forced to understand that beyond a certain limit, heroics, fooleries, and impertinences would not be tolerated by this terrible scavenger of European bureaucracy.[5] Lowe, in very truth, discerned the stern reality of the Emperor’s piercing words, and he felt the need of greater caution bearing down on him.  He pondered over these grave developments as he journeyed back to Plantation House, there to concoct and dispatch with all speed a tale that would chill his confederates at St. Stephen’s with horror, and give them a further opportunity of showing how wise they were in their plan of banishment and rigid precautions, and in their selection of so distinguished and dauntless a person as Sir Hudson Lowe, on whom they implicitly relied to carry out their Christlike benefactions.

Cartoonists, pamphleteers, Bourbonites, treasonites, meteoric females, all were supplied with the requisite material for declamatory speeches to be hurled at the Emperor in the hope of being reaped to the glory of God and the British ministry.  The story of the attempted invasion of Longwood and its sequel shocks the fine susceptibilities of the satellites by whom Lowe is surrounded.  They bellow out frothy words of vengeance.  Sir Thomas Reade, the noisiest filibuster of them all, indicates his method of settling matters at Longwood.  This incident arose through Napoleon refusing to see Sir Thomas Strange, an Indian Judge.  Las Cases had just been forcibly removed.  The Emperor was feeling the cruelty of this act very keenly, so he sent the following reply to Lowe’s request that he should see Sir Thomas:  “Tell the Governor that those who have gone down to the tomb receive no visits, and take care that the Judge be made acquainted with my answer.”  This cutting reply caused Sir Hudson to give way to unrestrained anger, and now Sir Thomas Reade gets his chance of vapouring.  Here is his plan:  “If I were Governor, I would bring that dog of a Frenchman to his senses; I would isolate him from all his friends, who are no better than himself; then I would deprive him of his books.  He is, in fact, nothing but a miserable outlaw, and I would treat him as such.  By G—! it would be a great mercy to the King of France to rid him of such a fellow altogether.  It was a piece of great cowardice not to have sent him at once to a court martial instead of sending him here."[6]