NAPOLEON ON BOARD THE ‘BELLEROPHON’--ARRIVAL AT TORBAY--CURIOSITY
OF THE PEOPLE--THE ENGLISH GOVERNMENT DETERMINE TO SEND HIM
TO ST. HELENA.
On board the ‘Bellerophon’ he was treated with every consideration
by Captain Maitland. He was still looked upon as Emperor, and dined
off his own gold plate, the dinner being ordered by his own _maître
d’hôtel_; and when he visited the ‘Superb’ he was received with all
the honours accorded to royalty, with the exception of a salute being
fired. On the 16th July they set sail for England, and at daybreak on
the 24th they were close to Dartmouth. Napoleon rose at six and went on
the poop, surveying the coast, which he much admired: ‘What a beautiful
country! it very much resembles Porto Ferrajo at Elba.’
About eight A.M. they anchored at Torbay, and no sooner was it known
that Napoleon was on board the ‘Bellerophon’ than the bay was covered
with vessels and boats full of people. A neighbouring gentleman sent
the Emperor a present of fruit. What a different reception from the
language of the ‘Times’[56]:--
‘Our paper of this day will satisfy the sceptics, for such there were
beginning to be, as to the capture of that bloody miscreant, who has
so long tortured Europe, NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. Savages are always found
to unite the greatest degree of cunning to the ferocious part of their
nature. The cruelty of this person is written in characters of blood
in almost every country in Europe, and in the contiguous angles of
Africa and Asia which he visited and nothing can more strongly evince
the universal conviction of his low, perfidious craft, than the opinion
which was beginning to get abroad, that even after his capture had been
officially announced, in both France, and England, he might yet have
found means to escape. However, all doubts upon this point are at an
end, by his arrival off the British coast; and, if he be not now placed
beyond the possibility of again outraging the peace of Europe, England
will certainly never again deserve to have heroes such as those who
have fought, and bled, at Waterloo, for this, his present overthrow.
The lives of the brave men who fell on that memorable day will have
been absolutely thrown away by a thoughtless country; the grand object
attained by their valour will have been frustrated, and we shall do
little less than insult over their remains, almost before they have
ceased to bleed. But Fortune, seconding their undaunted efforts, has
put it in our power to do far otherwise.
‘Captain Sartorius of the _Slaney_ frigate, arrived yesterday with
dispatches from Captain Maitland of the _Bellerophon_, confirming
all the antecedent accounts of Buonaparte’s surrender, with various
other details, and closing them by their natural catastrophe--his
safe conveyance to England. He is, therefore, what we may call, here.
Captain Sartorius delivered his dispatches to Lord Melville, at
Wimbledon, by whom their contents were communicated to Lord Liverpool,
at his seat at Combe Wood; summonses were immediately issued for a
Cabinet Council to meet at 12 o’clock; what passed there was, of
course, not suffered to transpire; our narrative must therefore revert
to the _Slaney_ frigate, and the accounts brought by her. She had been
sent forward by Captain Maitland to Plymouth, with the dispatches
announcing that Buonaparte was on board the _Bellerophon_, with a
numerous suite. But it was the intention of Captain Maitland himself,
to proceed to Torbay, and not to land his prisoners until he had
received orders from Government.
‘Buonaparte’s suite, as it is called, consists of upwards of 40
persons, among whom was Bertrand, Savary, Lallemand! Grogan,[57] and
several women. He has been allowed to take on board carriages and
horses, but admission was denied to about 50 cavalry, for whom he had
the impudence to require accommodation. This wretch has really lived
in the commission of every crime, so long, that he has lost all sight
and knowledge of the difference that exists between good and evil, and
hardly knows when he is doing wrong, except he be taught by proper
chastisement. A creature--who ought to be greeted with a gallows as
soon as he lands--to think of an attendance of fifty horsemen! He had
at first wanted to make conditions with Captain Maitland as to his
treatment, but the British officer very properly declared that he must
refer him upon this subject to his Government.
‘When he had been some time on board, he asked the Captain what chance
two large frigates, well manned, would have with a seventy-four. The
answer, we understand, which he received to this enquiry, did not give
him any cause to regret that he had not tried his fortune in a naval
combat with the relative forces in question. By the way, we should
not have been surprised if he had come into an action with the two
frigates, and then endeavoured to escape in his own, and leave the
other to her fate. It has been the constant trick of this villain,
whenever he has got his companions into a scrape, to leave them in it,
and seek his own safety by flight. In Egypt, in the Moscow expedition,
and at Waterloo, such was his conduct.
‘He likewise had the assurance to address a letter to the Prince
Regent, and M. Grogan, one of his party, was put on board the _Slaney_
as the bearer of it; but when this vessel reached Plymouth, the officer
on duty there, with a decision that does him credit, refused Grogan
permission to land: the letter is said to have been conveyed by Captain
Sartorius, and its purport was understood, on board, to be a request
for passports for America. We should have supposed that he had received
too many checks before, for his presumption in addressing letters to
the British Government, ever to have hazarded that experiment again;
but all reproofs are thrown away upon his callous heart;--not that we
should object to his humbly addressing the British throne for mercy, if
he has anything to urge in extenuation of his crimes; but the time has
not yet come; a momentary gleam of resolution on the part of his own
Government, indicated by the imprisonment of Labédoyère, and others,
led us to hope that his trial might have been safely entrusted to
those to whom it primarily, and of natural right, belongs; but, though
this hope may have proved transitory, he is not, therefore, above the
criminal justice of other countries, where established law, and a
regular execution of it, prevails.
‘The first procedure, we trust, will be a special commission, or the
appointment of a court martial, to try him for the murder of Captain
Wright. It is nonsense to say, as some have, that courts martial are
instituted only to try offences committed by soldiers of the country
to which they belong: it was an American court martial that tried and
shot Major André as a spy; and Buonaparte himself appointed commissions
of all kinds, and in all countries, to try offences committed against
himself.’
The same paper says: ‘As soon as an august personage was informed of
the capture of Buonaparte, he communicated this important intelligence
to a prince of his family--“The ancient fable is at length realised:
the _Chimera_ is in the power of _Bellerophon_, and will not this time
escape again.”
‘[Every reader knows that the Chimera was a terrible monster that
vomited fire.]’
Rowlandson gives us (July 28, 1815) ‘Boney’s Trial, Sentence and Dying
Speech, or Europe’s injuries revenged.’ Boney is in the felon’s dock,
backed up by his old friend the Devil. His indictment sets forth thus:
‘Napolean Boneparte, The first and last, by the wrath of Heaven, Ex
Emperor of Jacobins and Head Runner of Runaways, stands indicted 1st
for the murder of Captain Wright, in the Temple at Paris. 2nd for the
murder of the Duke d’Enghien, Pichegru and Georges. 3rd for the murder
of Palm, Hofer, &c. &c. 4th for the murder of the 12 inhabitants of
Moscow. 5th for innumerable Robberies committed on all Nations in
Christendom, and elsewhere. 6th for bigamy, and lastly for returning
from Transportation, and setting the World in an uproar.’ Blücher
presides, assisted by all the European sovereigns, and gives sentence
thus: ‘You, Nap Boneparte, being found guilty of all these crimes, it
is fell to my lot to pronounce sentence of Death upon you. You are to
be hung by the neck for one hour, till you are _Dead, dead, dead_, and
your body to be chained to a mill stone, and sunk in the sea at Torbay.’
Napoleon, terrified at this sentence, weepingly implores, ‘Oh Cruel
Blucher! Oh Cruel Wellington! it is you that have brought me to this
end. Oh, magnanimous Emperors, Kings and Princes! intercede for me,
and spare my life, and give me time to atone for all my sins. My Son,
Napoleon the Second, will reward you for mercy shewn me.’
On July 26 orders came for the ‘Bellerophon’ to go to Plymouth;
which being reached, two frigates, the ‘Liffey’ and ‘Eurotas,’ were
anchored, one on either side of her, and kept strict guard over her. No
boat from the shore was allowed to come within a cable’s length of her,
and ships’ boats continually rowing around kept that space clear.
The following description is by an eye-witness[58]:--
There is nothing so dull as mere fact, you’ll admit,
While you read my detail, unenlivened by wit.
My friends will believe, though they’re told it in rhyme,
That I thought to return in a far shorter time.
When at once we’re resolv’d, by half past on the move,
And by two, but a trio, we reach Mutton Cove;
When approaching the quay, such a rabble and rout,
That we ask ‘My good friend, what is all this about?’
‘They are rowing a race, and some boats are come in,
While these people are waiting till t’ others begin.’
Well aware of our folly, with risible lip,
The boatman we told to make haste to _the_ ship;
On the colours of fish,[59] here by hampers-full landing,
We gaze for amusement, while still we’re kept standing;
At length to the Admiral’s stairs we have got,
See his party on board, and hear tunes from his yacht.
The day is delightful, the gale just enough
For the sea to look lively without being rough.
With those first at the ship, our sight costs the dearer,
As we’ve longer to wait, and not, in the end, nearer;
For by land, and by water, so different the case is,
’Twas long before we were jam’d into our places;
But on further advice we’ll at present be dumb,
For half the spectators you know, are now come:
In one boat, a bevy, all sarcenet and veil,
In the next some good fellows while toping their ale.
‘Avast! here’s the guard boat.’ ‘Aye here it comes smack.’
And the ladies cry ‘Captain they’ll drive us all back.’
Then some bully our men, with ‘Skull out there, skull out,’
And others check these with ‘Mind what you’re about.’
Here’s a crazy old boat, laded dry by a shoe,
There, a gay painted barge is forced on our view;
In this, while Don Solus is jeered by the mob,
‘See that empty boat, turn it out.’ ‘Here’s a fine job.’
Cries one, of some dozens squeezed into the next,
‘I’ve left the pork pie, Oh dear I’m so vex’d.’
In the long boat, that shews us profusion of oar,
From the Captain bursts forth, a most terrible roar
At his men, but the anger about who, or what,
Though they still remember, we soon had forgot.
Here infants were crying, mothers scolding downright,
While the next party laughs at some comical sight.
Now watches and spy-glasses make their appearance,
And Impatience, that vixen, begins interference;
To beguile her, through portholes we eagerly stare,
For the nobles on deck are all taking the air.
‘Hey dey what a bustle!’ then ‘All safe, all safe.’
The crowd is return’d to its chatter and laugh.
‘Pray what was the matter?’ ‘From that boat, near the ship,
A woman fell over, and so got a dip.’
But a hum of applause, yes, his triumph is full,
Yet this hum of applause has betrayed our John Bull,
‘What hum of applause? come I prithee be brief:’
Why John was delighted to see them _ship beef_.
With a smile ’tis observed by the Briton polite,
How the glee of the crowd was improv’d, by the sight,
For the rough, honest tar, had declared from his heart,
That he thought this a sight that would beat Bonaparte.
Some, again, with composure, predict peace and war,
Others look at the great folks, and fancy a star;
But we, much fatigued, six o’clock now approaching,
And on our good nature we thought them encroaching,
When boats are made bridges, nay, tempted to think,
That through some of these freedoms, not strange we should sink.
But here I must mention, when all was most merry,
As here is each size, from the long boat to wherry,
When the crowd should disperse, I was fearful, I own,
Lest your small boats, by barges, should then be run down.
But a truce with our hopes, our predictions and fears,
For now, yes at last, our grand object appears;
And now every eye to the ship is directed,
Though to see Bonaparte, I no longer expected;
For between us what number of men! and aghast
We stood, as still thicker and thicker the mast. [? _mass_]
But now see Napoleon, who seems in his figure,
What we call mediocre, nor smaller, nor bigger;
For in spite of our fears, how it was, I can’t tell,
What our distance allowed of, we saw very well.
But in this we’re full right, for now, hurry scurry,
Boat rows against boat, with the madness of fury;
The show was all over, but time was outstaid
By some, and by others, attempts were still made
To get round the ship, in hopes Bonaparte might
At some place yet be seen, thus to perfect their sight.
This doggerel helps us to realise the intense desire of the British
public to get at least a glimpse at Boney, that great bugbear who for
so many years had been so great a terror to them, and whose existence
everyone, from the highest to the lowest, had acutely felt in that
tenderest place of our social economy--the breeches pocket. They all
but carried out the threat, made twelve years previously, of putting
him in Pidcock’s Menagerie, _vide_ the following extracts from a
contemporary pamphlet[60]:--
‘The desire of all ranks to see him was excessive; the guardboats were
unable to prevent them from closing the ship, and it was amusement on
board to look at the boats contending for places. Napoleon generally
walked the quarterdeck about eleven in the forenoon, and half past six
in the afternoon. He ate but two meals in the day, both alike, meat
of every description, different wines, coffee, fruit, &c. Immediately
after each meal he rose first, and the others followed; he then either
went on the quarterdeck or in the after-cabin to study. The comedy of
_The Poor Gentleman_[61] was performed before him; he was much pleased
at it; it went off very well; the scenery was good, but somewhat better
dresses were wanted for the _female midshipmen_.[62]
‘The immense number of persons who daily flock from all parts of the
country to take a view of the person of Napoleon is incalculable. He
generally gratified the public curiosity by making his appearance every
afternoon for two hours.
‘Upwards of one thousand boats were from morning to night round the
_Bellerophon_. The seamen of the _Bellerophon_ adopted a curious
mode to give an account to the curious spectators in the boats of
the movements of Napoleon. They wrote in chalk, on a board, which
they exhibited, a short account of his different occupations--“At
breakfast”--“In the cabin with Captain Maitland”--“Writing with his
officers”--“Going to dinner”--“Coming upon deck,” &c.’
Las Cases says: ‘It was known that he always appeared on deck towards
five o’clock. A short time before this hour, all the boats collected
alongside of each other; there were thousands; and so closely were
they connected, that the water could no longer be seen between them.
They looked more like a multitude assembled in a public square than
anything else. When the Emperor came out, the noise and gestures of so
many people presented a most striking spectacle; it was, at the same
time, very easy to perceive that nothing hostile was meant, and that,
if curiosity had brought them, they felt interested on going away. We
could even see that the latter sentiment continued to increase; at
first, people merely looked toward the ship, they ended by saluting;
some remained uncovered, and, occasionally, went so far as to cheer.
Even our symbols began to appear amongst them. Several individuals of
both sexes came decorated with red carnations.’
Napoleon knew that St. Helena had been fixed upon as the place of
his future residence, and did not at all relish the idea; but it was
not officially announced to him until July 30 or 31, when Lord Keith
went on board the ‘Bellerophon’ and presented him with the following
despatch:--
‘_Communication made by Lord Keith, in the name of the English
Ministers._
‘As it may, perhaps, be convenient for General Buonaparte to
learn, without further delay, the intentions of the British
Government with regard to him, your Lordship will communicate
the following information.
‘It would be inconsistent with our duty towards our country
and the Allies of his Majesty, if General Buonaparte possessed
the means of again disturbing the repose of Europe. It is on
this account, that it becomes absolutely necessary he should be
restrained in his personal liberty, so far as this is required
by the foregoing important object.
‘The island of St. Helena has been chosen as his future
residence; its climate is healthy, and its local position will
allow of his being treated with more indulgence than could
be admitted in any other spot, owing to the indispensable
precautions which it would be necessary to employ for the
security of his person.
‘General Buonaparte is allowed to select amongst those persons
who accompanied him to England (with the exception of Generals
Savary and Lallemand) three officers, who, together with his
surgeon, will have permission to accompany him to St. Helena;
these individuals will not be allowed to quit the island
without the sanction of the British Government.
‘Rear Admiral Sir George Cockburn, who is named Commander in
Chief at the Cape of Good Hope, and seas adjacent, will convey
General Buonaparte and his suite to St. Helena; and he will
receive detailed instructions relative to the execution of this
service.
‘Sir G. Cockburn will, most probably, be ready to sail in a few
days; for which reason, it is desirable that General Buonaparte
should make choice of the persons who are to accompany him,
without delay.’
Of this interview Las Cases says: ‘I was not called before
the Emperor. The bearers of his sentence spoke and understood
French; they were admitted alone. I have since heard that
he objected, and protested, with no less energy than logic,
against the violence exercised on his person. “He was the guest
of England,” said Napoleon, “and not its prisoner; he came of
his own accord to place himself under the protection of its
laws; the most sacred rights of hospitality were violated in
his person; he would never submit voluntarily to the outrage
they were preparing for him: violence alone should oblige him
to do so,” &c.’