NAPOLEON IS SENT ON BOARD THE ‘NORTHUMBERLAND’--HE PROTESTS AGAINST
HIS EXILE--PUBLIC OPINION AS TO HIS TREATMENT.
That the Government was in earnest, as to his departure, was soon
shown, for orders came on August 4 for the ‘Bellerophon’ to weigh, and
join the ‘Northumberland,’ which was the ship in which Napoleon was to
take his passage to St. Helena. He issued a formal protest:--
I hereby solemnly protest in the face of heaven and mankind
against the violence that is done me; and the violation of my
most sacred rights, in forcibly disposing of my person and
liberty. I voluntarily came on board the _Bellerophon_--I am
not the prisoner, I am the guest of England. I came at the
instigation of the Captain himself, who said he had orders
from the Government to receive and convey me to England,
together with my suite, if agreeable to me. I came forward with
confidence to place myself under the protection of the laws of
England. When once on board the _Bellerophon_, I was entitled
to the hospitality of the British people. If the Government, in
giving the Captain of the _Bellerophon_ orders to receive me
and my followers, only wished to lay a snare, it has forfeited
its honour, and disgraced its flag.
If this act be consummated, it will be in vain for the English,
henceforth, to talk of their sincerity, their laws, and
liberties. British faith will have been lost in the hospitality
of the _Bellerophon_.
I appeal to History; it will say, that an enemy, who made
war for twenty years against the English people, came
spontaneously, in the hour of misfortune, to seek an asylum
under their laws. What more striking proof could he give of his
esteem and confidence? But how did England reply to such an
act of magnanimity? It pretended to hold out a hospitable hand
to this enemy: and on giving himself up with confidence, he was
immolated!
NAPOLEON.
_Bellerophon_, at Sea. Friday, Aug. 4th, 1815.
On the 6th they anchored off Start Point, and were soon joined by the
‘Northumberland’ and two frigates, full of soldiers, who were to form
the garrison of St. Helena. By order, their arms were taken from them,
with the exception of Napoleon, who was allowed to keep his sword; all
their money, diamonds, and saleable effects were put under seal; but
Napoleon might keep his plate, baggage, wines, and provisions. The
search of his personal effects greatly exasperated him.
Between one and two o’clock P.M. of the 7th, the transfer from the
‘Bellerophon’ to the ‘Northumberland’ was made, and then, as there
was nothing else to wait for, ‘Cæsar and his fortunes’ sailed for St.
Helena.
The ‘Times’ (August 11, 1815) has the following short leader: ‘We
trust that we now, at last, take a long leave of NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE,
except that we may, occasionally, have to instance him as an example
of every crime, for the benefit of others: and, if the hand of man has
dealt too leniently by his offences, it must not, on that occasion,
be conceived that he is exempt from every other punishment. To what
profession of faith he may now belong, we know not, as we believe he
has been Atheist, Mahometan, and Roman Catholic, in succession, as
best suited the particular purpose of the moment: indeed, such was the
inherent baseness of the man, notwithstanding his eminent talents, and
incessant activity, that he was in the habitual practice of the meanest
arts of deception for the promotion of his interest, never blushing
at the subsequent exposure of his falsehoods, or the discovery of his
expedients, provided they had first promoted the object he had in view.
‘Yet if he is still a man, he must, now that he is reduced to solitude
and leisure, have some religion or other engraven in his soul, that
will make him feel compunction for the many horrible atrocities of
which he has been guilty. It is said that he needs incessant exercise
for the relief of his bilious complaint; perhaps, also, he may now
first discover that he has need of incessant bustle also, in order to
abstract his attention from a certain mental malady, called an evil
conscience. In the midst of the horror which his crimes always excited
in well-constituted minds, throughout Europe, there was a certain
mixture of contempt, or derision, excited by the little knaveries which
he practised, and the same feeling will not fail to mingle itself
in this the closing scene of his drama, on observing the attendants
of such a man, who had been used to sport with oaths, to laugh at
engagements, to make a mockery of religion, to commit or direct murder
in all its forms, from the midnight assassination, up to the boundless
slaughter of the tented field, anxious to provide for the amusement
of his, and their, declining years, by a stock of cards, domino and
backgammon tables.’
Whilst they are on their journey, we will just glance at the few
remaining caricatures.
‘The Ex-Emperor in a bottle’ is a somewhat serious, and well-executed,
engraving (August 25, 1815). Napoleon is enclosed in a glass bottle,
which the Prince Regent, who wears a superb hussar uniform, has just
sealed with a seal bearing the imprint of a cannon and the legend
_Martial Achievements_; around are grouped the figures named in the
following verses--Louis the Eighteenth being on his knees, his eyes
being raised in pious thankfulness to Heaven.
Ambition’s dread career at length is o’er,
And weeping Europe hopes for peace once more;
Sov’reigns in arms, at length the world have freed,
And Britain’s warlike sons no more shall bleed:
The great Napoleon now resigns his sway,
And in a bottle seal’d is borne away.
England’s great Prince, whom Europe does confess
The potent friend of Freedom in distress,
With _Allies_ brave, to the world impartial,
Seal’d up their foe with _Achievements martial_,
That he no more disturb the tranquil World,
Nor be again his bloody flag unfurl’d.
’Twas Alexander great, of generous mind,
With zealous Frederick, who to peace inclined,
Resolv’d with Francis, in propitious hour,
To free old Gallia from the Despot’s power.
Her tyrannic Lord from rule is driven,
And grateful Louis offers thanks to Heaven.
The _Martial Heroes_ next a tribute claim,
First Wellington, immortal is his fame:
And Blücher, who, for valour long renown’d,
Compell’d the Tyrant’s legions to give ground:
The cautious Swartzenberg, of wise delays,
And the brave Platoff, ask their share of praise.
‘The downfall of Tyranny and return of Peace’ is by George Cruikshank,
and, although not dated, is undoubtedly of the autumn of 1815. Justice,
with a flaming sword, has banished Napoleon to his rock of St. Helena,
where, chained, he is seized upon by the fiend as his own. Peace with
her olive branch, Plenty with her cornucopia, Agriculture and Commerce,
are welcomed by Britannia with open arms.
Marks (August 1815) drew ‘The Exile of St. Helena, or Boney’s
Meditation,’ in which there is a fairly accurate delineation of the
Rocky Island and its little town. Napoleon is standing with his feet
astride, each planted on a rock on either side the bay; he weeps
copiously, and the expression of his countenance is very rueful.
[Illustration: BONEY’S MEDITATIONS ON THE ISLAND OF ST. HELENA. (AUGUST
1815.)
The Devil addressing the Sun.--_Paradise Lost_, Book IV.]
‘Napoleon’s trip from Elba to Paris, and from Paris to St. Helena’ is
the title of three engravings on one sheet, by G. Cruikshank (September
1, 1815). In the first compartment is shown the battle of Waterloo,
with the French army in full flight. Napoleon is seated on the French
Eagle, which, however, has but one wing, for, as it mournfully
observes, ‘My _left_ wing has entirely disappeared.’ The Emperor, whose
crown and sceptre have fallen from him, clutches the bird round the
neck, exclaiming: ‘Sauve qui peut--the Devil take the hindmost--Run, my
boys, your Emperor leads the way--My dear eagle, only conduct me safe
to Paris this time, as you did from Moscow and Leipsig, and I’ll never
trouble you again--Oh! d--n that Wellington!’
The middle picture shows Napoleon in the stern gallery of the
‘Bellerophon,’ talking to John Bull, who sits by his fireside placidly
smoking his pipe as usual. Says the ex-Emperor: ‘My most powerful and
generous enemy, how do you do? I come, like Themistocles, to seat
myself upon your hearth--I am very glad to see you.’ John Bull replies:
‘So am I glad to see you Mr. Boney, but I’ll be d--d if you sit upon my
hearth, or any part of my house--it has cost me a pretty round sum to
catch you, Mr. Themistocles, as you call yourself, but now I have got
you, I’ll take care of you.’
The third is a sad one. Napoleon is at St. Helena, reduced to the sport
of catching rats. Across his breast he wears a broad leather scarf,
covered with brass rats, and sits moodily before a baited trap, into
which the rats decline to enter. He thus soliloquises:--
Alas! that I who caught Imperial flats,
Should now sit here to watch these scurvy rats.
I, who Madrid, Berlin, Vienna, Moscow, took,
Am doom’d, with cheese, to bait a rusty hook!
Was it for this I tried to save my bacon.
To use it now for Rats, that won’t be taken?
Curse their wise souls! I had not half such trouble
Their European brethren to bubble.
When I, myself, was hail’d as Emperor Nap,
Emperors and Kings I had within my trap:
And to this moment might have kept them there,
Had I not gone to hunt the Russian bear.
One of his suite sees a rat coming: ‘Ah! mon Dieu! Dere, your Majesty,
dere be de vilain rogues--Ah, monsieur rat, why you not pop your nose
into de trap, and let de august Emperor catch you?’ A female attendant,
with a slice of bacon on a fork, says, ‘Will your Majesty be please to
try dis bit of bacon? Ah! de cunning rascal! Dere! ma foi! he sniff at
de bacon.’
‘General Sans Pareil’ (September 1, 1815) is an extremely elaborate
picture, far too much so for reproduction; therefore it will be
better to give the description at the foot of the figure: ‘The above
Portrait of Buonaparte, may be considered as an emblematical Index of
his extraordinary Life. The Design reflects the highest credit on the
Artist, who is a Frenchman: he has judiciously formed the Hat of the
different _Crowns_ which Buonaparte placed on other Men’s _Heads_. The
position of the forefinger and thumb are particularly deserving of
notice, with the words _Moreau_ and _Pichegru_ on them, indicating that
_Moreau_ was his guide or _finger-post_ to all his victories; and the
word _Pichegru_ being on his thumb, is meant to imply that he always
had him in view as being one great obstacle to his rising greatness;
while in the other hand he holds a nooze, or rope, as the means of
ridding himself of so formidable an enemy. The words on his Breast are
the names of the different kingdoms he has overrun or conquered. His
Waistcoat is ornamented with the figures of the different Kings he had
made; the French call them “_La folie fabrique de sire_”: indicative,
that while the dark clouds of despotism hung over Buonaparte’s empire,
his Kings reflected their borrowed lustre; but when once the Sun of
universal restitution darted forth its rays, they melted “like wax
before the sun.” The artist has well contrived to put the little King
of Rome, as a monkey, above the heads of the other Kings. The Bales and
Casks of Goods, on his left thigh, denote the stoppage of Trade which
his system of warfare had brought on the French People. The Beet root
refers to the Decree issued for making Sugar of that plant, when he
had lost all his West India Possessions. On his legs are represented
Skulls, symbolic of Death, who accompanied him wherever he trod--His
sword, which so often paralyzed the world, and conquered with a
rapidity hitherto unknown, is placed in the form of a Comet or Meteor.
Such is this brief and imperfect delineation of the above extremely
curious and interesting Portrait.’
‘Boxiana--or the Fancy’ (artist unknown), October 1, 1815, shows the
popular idea of the treatment Napoleon received. The gross, corpulent
Prince Regent has thrown down his traditional three feathers, and
is, like the ex-Emperor, stripped for the fight. Napoleon is on the
ground, and the Regent is kicking him. A sweep has picked up one of the
Prince’s feathers, and shows it to Napoleon’s backer, saying, ‘Master,
I found a white feather.’ The backer calls out, ‘Foul! foul! by all the
rules of honor! why even blackey cries shame.’ A negro, who is acting
as bottle-holder, cries out:--
What, Ben, my big hero, is this thy renown?
Is this the new go? Kick a man when he’s down!
When the foe has knock’d under, to tread on him then,
By the fist of my father, I blush for thee, Ben!
The Regent’s backer explains, ‘He’s only kicking, to try if there’s
any honor there, Blackey.’ One of the spectators imagines that
‘Themistocles will be well treated if we can find any honor in him!’
Another says, ‘Or we must send Themistocles to acquire honor at Botany.’
A French spectator turns to an Englishman, saying, ‘Ah, je vois, you
be de Jentelman! n’est ce pas bien Sauvage, Sare?’ The reply is, ‘Bien
shove a----e No, d----e! mounseer, I think it more like kicking than
shoving.’ Another astonished looker-on exclaims, ‘Vy, Charly, vot
sort of a go d’you call this?’ And a Frenchman advises his defeated
champion, ‘Vy you no go to de Russia, you only get little squeeze.’