Bellerophon's arrival in England, but when I tell you no private
letters were allowed to leave the ship before to-day, that will cease.
It's unnecessary to say that we have got Buonaparte and suite on
board, as it was known in England previous to our arrival, which took
place on the 24th instant in Torbay. The circumstances which led to
his surrender were his defeats in all points, and was it not for the
strict blockade we kept up would [_sic_] have escaped to America. We
heard of his being on board the French frigate Saale off Rochfort,
from which moment we watched his movements if possible more closely
than before. On the morning of the 14th instant, observing a schooner
bearing a flag of truce on board standing towards us, we hove to for
her, when Count Lascazas and General Lallemande came on board with
proposals from Buonaparte, in consequence of which we came to anchor
in the evening in the roads off Rochelle. Next morning, 15th instant,
at 4 A.M. observed a man-of-war brig standing out and beating towards
us, we immediately dispatched all our boats. Lieut. Mott in the barge
brought Buonaparte on board at 7, the boats were busily employed in
bringing his retinue and baggage, and I never saw men exert themselves
so much as ours did that day, lest Admiral Hotham should take him, as
he was off the harbour in the Superb, and saw him coming on board
here, and did all in his power to get in, but did not come to anchor
before 11 in the forenoon. Buonaparte is a fine-looking man, inclined
to corpulency, is five feet six inches in height, his hair turning
grey, and a little bald on the crown of the head, no whiskers,
complexion French yellow, eyes grey, Roman nose, good mouth and chin,
neck short, big belly, arms stout, small white hands, and shews a good
leg. He wears a cocked hat somewhat like our old-fashioned three
cornered ones, with the tri-coloured cockade in it, plain green coat,
cape red, and cuffs the same, plain gold epaulets, and a large star on
the left breast, white waistcoat and breeches and white silk
stockings, thin shoes and buckles. Eats but two meals in the day,
breakfast and dinner, and these are sumptuous, fish, flesh, and fowl,
wines, fruit, various French dishes &c. &c. He breakfasts about eleven
and dines at six, is about half an hour at each, when he generally
comes on deck or goes into the after-cabin to study. We do not know
what's to be done with him yet, he remains on board until we hear from
the allies. In his suite are Marshal Bertrand, Duc de Rovigo [Savary]
once the French minister of police, Counts Lascazas and Montholon,
Generals Lallemande and Gourgou, several Lieut.-Colonels and Captains,
to enumerate them would be tedious. We have 33 on board, 17 were sent
on board the Myrmidon, Captn. Gambier. There are two Countesses on
board, but not to be compared even to our English ladies. Their
children are handsome.... We performed the comedy of the "Poor
Gentleman" before Buonaparte and suite. I acted the part of Corporal
Foss. It went off very well, our scenery was excellent. The female
dresses were badly suited for Midshipmen. I long to hear from you and
will expect to hear all the news.... I wish you were all here to see
Buonaparte, the curiosity of all ranks to see him is excessive. There
are Admiralty orders not to allow any person whatever on board, but
they crowd in boats round the ship, and he very condescendingly stands
looking at them through a spyglass. There are two frigates, one on
each side of us, the Eurotas and Liffey, and their boats are
constantly rowing about the ship to keep off the boats. We prisoners
have no other amusement than to look at them contending for places. I
hope we will soon be allowed to go ashore, as I want to see Captain
Sandys. You must be tired reading this long epistle. We took some
prizes, one ship laden with Buonaparte's soldiers, one chasse maree
laden with resin, and the Cephulus man-of-war brig sent in a West
Indiaman laden with sugar, coffee, &c. from Martinique bound to
France, and for which we will share by mutual agreements. Give my
affectionate love to Ally, Anne, Wilhelmina, Sophia and Jane. I know
the want of not being near them as my shirts are going to pieces, as
soon as I can afford the sum I will get some new ones. I have the old
number the same as when I left you and bought none since.... I remain,
my dear mother, your affectionate son,
EPHRAIM GRAEBKE.
_P.S._--I think myself very lucky to belong to the old Bellerophon at
this important time. Lose no time in answering this letter.
Mrs GRAEBKE,
MIDLETON, CO. CORK.
III.
Extracts from _Memoirs of an Aristocrat, and Reminiscences of the
Emperor Napoleon, by a Midshipman of the Bellerophon_ [George Home].
London, Whittaker & Co., and Bell & Bradfute, Edinburgh, 1838.
About six in the morning, the look-out man at the mast-head announced
a large ship of war standing direct in for the roadstead, which
Captain Maitland, suspecting to be the Superb, bearing the flag of
Admiral Sir Henry Hotham, he gave immediate orders to hoist out the
barge, and dispatched her, under the command of the first lieutenant,
to the French brig, being apprehensive that if the Admiral arrived
before the brig got out, that Napoleon would deliver himself up to the
Admiral instead of us, and thus have lost us so much honour.
As our barge approached, the brig hove to, and from the moment she
came alongside, we watched every motion with deep anxiety. Like all
Napoleon's movements, he was not slow even in this, his last free act.
The barge had not remained ten minutes alongside, before we saw the
rigging of the brig crowded with men, persons stepping down the side
into the boat, and the next moment she shoved off, and gave way for
the ship; while the waving of the men's hats in the rigging, and the
cheering which we heard faintly in the distance, left no doubt that
the expected guest was approaching. A general's guard of marines was
ordered aft on the quarter-deck, and the boatswain stood, whistle in
hand, ready to do the honours of the side. The lieutenants stood
grouped first on the quarter-deck, and we more humble middies behind
them, while the captain, evidently in much anxiety, kept trudging
backwards and forwards between the gangway and his own cabin,
sometimes peeping out at one of the quarter-deck ports, to see if the
barge was drawing near.
It is a sin to mix up any trifling story with so great an event; but a
circumstance occurred so laughable of itself, rendered more so from
the solemnity of the occasion, that I cannot resist mentioning it.
While in this state of eager expectation, a young midshipman, one of
the Bruces of Kennet, I think, walked very demurely up to Manning, the
boatswain, who was standing all importance at the gangway, and after
comically eyeing his squat figure and bronzed countenance, Bruce
gently laid hold of one of his whiskers, to which the boatswain
good-naturedly submitted, as the youngster was a great favourite with
him.
"Manning," says he, most sentimentally, "this is the proudest day of
your life; you are this day to do the honours of the side to the
greatest man the world ever produced or ever will produce."
Here the boatswain eyed him with proud delight.
"And along with the great Napoleon, the name of Manning, the
boatswain of the Bellerophon, will go down to the latest posterity;
and, as a relic of that great man, permit me, my dear Manning, to
preserve a lock of your hair."
Here he made an infernal tug at the boatswain's immense whisker, and
fairly carried away a part of it, making his way through the crowd,
and down below with the speed of an arrow. The infuriated boatswain,
finding he had passed so rapidly from the sublime to the ridiculous,
through the instrumentality of this imp of a youngster, could vent his
rage in no way but by making his glazed hat spin full force after his
tantalizer, with a "G--d d----n your young eyes and limbs." The hat,
however, fell far short of young Bruce, and the noise and half burst
of laughter the trick occasioned drew the attention of the Captain,
who, coming up, with a "What, what's all this?" the poor boatswain was
glad to draw to his hat and resume his position.
The barge approached, and ranged alongside. The first lieutenant came
up the side, and to Maitland's eager and blunt question, "Have you got
him?" he answered in the affirmative. After the lieutenant came
Savary, followed by Marshal Bertrand, who bowed and fell back a pace
on the gangway to await the ascent of their master. And now came the
little great man himself, wrapped up in his gray greatcoat buttoned to
the chin, three-cocked hat and Hussar boots, without any sword, I
suppose as emblematical of his changed condition. Maitland received
him with every mark of respect, as far as look and deportment could
indicate; but he was _not_ received with the respect due to a crowned
head, which was afterwards insidiously thrown out against Maitland. So
far from that, the captain, on Napoleon's addressing him, only moved
his hat, as to a general officer, and remained covered while the
Emperor spoke to him. His expressions were brief, I believe only
reiterating what he had stated the day previous in his letter to the
Prince Regent, "That he placed himself under the protection of the
British nation, and under that of the British commander as the
representative of his sovereign." The captain again moved his hat, and
turned to conduct the Emperor to the cabin. As he passed through the
officers assembled on the quarter-deck, he repeatedly bowed slightly
to us, and smiled. What an ineffable beauty there was in that smile,
his teeth were finely set, and as white as ivory, and his mouth had a
charm about it that I have never seen in any other human countenance.
I marked his fine robust figure as he followed Captain Maitland into
the cabin, and, boy as I was, I said to myself, "Now have I a tale for
futurity."
* * * * *
I shall never forget that morning we made Ushant. I had come on deck
at four in the morning to take the morning watch, and the washing of
decks had just begun, when, to my astonishment, I saw the Emperor come
out of the cabin at that early hour, and make for the poop-ladder. Had
I known what human misery is as well as I do now, when I have myself
experienced the most cruel injustice and persecution on a lesser
scale, the restlessness of Napoleon, or his being unable to close an
eye, would have in no way surprised me. If a petty care can break our
sleep, what must have been _his_ feeling who had lost the fairest
empire on the face of the globe; nay, who had lost a world? From the
wetness of the decks, he was in danger of falling at every step, and I
immediately stepped up to him, hat in hand, and tendered him my arm,
which he laid hold of at once, smiling, and pointing to the poop,
saying in broken English, "the poop, the poop"; he ascended the
poop-ladder leaning on my arm; and having gained the deck, he quitted
his hold and mounted upon a gun-slide, nodding and smiling thanks, for
my attention, and pointing to the land he said, "Ushant, Cape Ushant."
I replied, "Yes, sire," and withdrew. He then took out a pocket-glass
and applied it to his eye, looking eagerly at the land. In this
position, he remained from five in the morning to nearly mid-day,
without paying any attention to what was passing around him, or
speaking to one of his suite, who had been standing behind him for
several hours.
No wonder he thus gazed, it was the last look of the land of his
glory, and I am convinced he felt it such. What must have been his
feelings in those few hours, how painful the retrospect, and how awful
the look forward!--_there_ still lay before him that land which he had
made so famous, where his proud name had risen until it "o'ershadowed
the earth with his fame"; there had he been worshipped almost as a
god, and bowed to by every servile knee, that now, in the hour of
bitter adversity, had basely deserted and betrayed him. Never man was
read such a lesson as must have passed before him in that brief space,
unless, really, that the greatness of the change, the suddenness of
the fall had benumbed all feeling, and left him only a mass of
contending passions which combated and stilled each other by the very
violence of their working. But this was not the case with Napoleon,
his emotion was visible, he hung upon the land until it looked only a
speck in the distance, and then, turning, stepped from the gun-slide
into the arms of his faithful Bertrand, who stood ready to receive his
fallen master. He uttered not a word as he tottered down the
poop-ladder, his head hung heavily forward, so as to render his
countenance scarcely visible, and in this way he was conducted to his
cabin.
* * * * *
Amongst other plans for killing the time, and lightening the tedium of
a sea passage to the refugees, we bethought us of getting up a play.
This was managed by one of the lieutenants of marines, a fellow of
great taste, and some one or two of the midshipmen, who pretended to
skill in the Shakespearian art. What the piece was I do not recollect,
but when it was announced to the Emperor, by Captain Maitland, and the
immortal honour of his imperial presence begged, for a few minutes, he
laughed very heartily, consented instantly; and turning to Lady
Bertrand, told her that she must stand his interpreter. The stage was
fitted up between decks, more, I am afraid, in ship-shape than
theatrical style; and, sure enough, Napoleon and his whole suite
attended. He was much amused with those who took the female parts,
which, by the way, was the most smooth-chinned of our young gentlemen,
remarking that they were rather a little Dutch built for fine ladies;
and, after good-naturedly sitting for nearly twenty minutes, he rose,
smiled to the actors, and retired. I mention these circumstances, by
way of showing the last glimpses of sunshine that enlivened the
exile's closing scene.
On the 23rd, we made the land; and, on the 24th, at seven P.M., we
came to an anchor in Torbay, when the first lieutenant was immediately
put on shore, with orders to proceed by land to Plymouth, with
dispatches for Lord Keith, at that time admiral on the Plymouth
station.
I happened to be midshipman of the boat, which conveyed the first
lieutenant on shore; and no sooner had we got clear of him, than I was
taken prisoner by some twenty young ladies, marched off to a fine
house in the little town, regaled with tea and clouted cream, and
bored with five thousand questions about Napoleon, the ridiculousness
of which I have often laughed at since. "What like was he--was he
really a man? Were his hands and clothes all over blood when he came
on board? Was it true that he had killed three horses in riding from
Waterloo to the Bellerophon? Were we not all frightened for him? Was
his voice like thunder? Could I possibly get them a sight of the
monster, just that they might be able to say they had seen him?" etc.
etc. I assured those inquisitive nymphs, that the reports they had
heard were all nonsense; that the Emperor was not only a man, but a
very handsome man too; young withal, had no more blood upon his hands
or clothes than was now upon their pure white dresses; that if by
chance they got a look of him at the gangway, they would fall in love
with him directly; that so far from his hands being red with blood,
they were as small, white, and soft as their own charming fingers, and
his voice, instead of resembling thunder, was as sweet and musical as
their own. This account of the Emperor's beauty perfectly astonished
the recluses of Torbay; some misbelieved altogether, while the
curiosity of others was excited beyond all bounds. A general
proposition was now made, that I should bundle them, like live cattle,
into my little cutter, and take them all on board to gratify their
curiosity at once. This was quite contrary to orders. Not a soul was
allowed to come on board the ship, and I had to plead a thousand
excuses for my want of gallantry, in not complying with the very
natural wish of my young companions. As far as I was concerned,
resistance was vain; I was again seized, hurried down to the boat, and
had the pleasure of seeing it filled to cramming with the charmers of
Torbay. This was a devil of a mess;--I might as well have gone into
the mouth of a cannon, as have carried such a cargo alongside the
ship,--the thing was impossible. So I had nothing for it, but to call
aside the boat's crew, and whisper to them to use gentle violence with
my young boarders, and set them down on shore. This was glorious fun
to Jack;--to work they fell, and in the midst of screams, laughter,
and a few d----n my eyes, ma'am, don't kick so hard, on the part of
the Bellerophons, we had our nymphs safely deposited on terra firma,
and were off in a trice, enjoying the general discomfiture of the poor
ladies, who were equally laughed at by the lookers-on, on shore.... We
left Torbay, on the 26th July at 4 A.M., and at 4 in the evening came
to an anchor in Plymouth Sound, just within the breakwater, then only
beginning to shew its head above water at low tide. It has since, I am
told, been made a splendid affair; but it then only afforded footing
for a few gazers from the shore, who perched themselves upon it to
watch the cabin-windows of the Bellerophon, in hopes of getting a
glimpse of the Emperor.
* * * * *
The signal for the Emperor's being on deck was the officers
uncovering. No sooner was this ceremony noticed, than the rush from
without took place, and the screaming and swearing commenced, which
was very considerably heightened upon one occasion by a plan of some
of our wise-headed young gentlemen. Being in want of amusement, they
bethought them of priming the fire engine, which happened to be
standing on the poop, and after clapping a relay of hands ready to ply
it to advantage, we uncovered, and waited the approach of the boats.
No sooner were they within reach, than off went the water-spout, which
fell "alike on the just and the unjust," for both the dockyard men and
the spectators who came within its compass got a good ducking. This
prank created an infernal confusion, and our trick having been twigged
by the first lieutenant, the chief actors in this notable exploit were
ordered up to the mast-head to enjoy their frolic for a few hours,
which evidently much gratified the unfortunate sufferers from the
effects of the operation.
* * * * *
Maitland, knowing how he stood with "the powers that be," was
determined not to commit himself by accepting of any present of value
from Napoleon, as he knew it would be directly made a handle of to
injure his character as a British officer. He, therefore, I believe,
refused to accept of a gold snuff-box tendered him by the Emperor as a
mark of his esteem, but he did not refuse the offer of a few dozens of
French wine, as a present to Mrs Maitland, who had been personally
introduced to Napoleon, as far as introduction was possible, that is,
she had been permitted to come within a foot or two of the ship, and
Napoleon most condescendingly stepped to the gangway, smiled and bowed
to her. Mrs Maitland was a charming little woman in those
days,--alas! we are all getting old now,--a daughter of green Erin,
and Napoleon seemed greatly pleased with her appearance, hence the
offer of this trifling present as a token of respect. The captain took
it on shore in the gig, and no sooner had she struck the beach than
the custom-house officers jumped on board, and made a seizure of it,
hauled the boat up upon the beach, and clapped his Majesty's broad
arrow upon her, that fatal mark indicative of being in "the hands of
the Philistines" of the revenue. I shall never forget Maitland's
countenance when he came on board after this ridiculous and provoking
affair. Being deprived of his own boat by "the land-sharks," he was
obliged to hire a shore boat to bring off himself and his boat's crew,
and she was nearly alongside before the first lieutenant discovered
that there was a naval officer in her, and on taking a look with his
glass, he exclaimed, "Good God! there is the captain coming off in a
shore boat." The side was manned, and when Maitland stepped on board,
he turned to Mott with a most rueful countenance, remarking, "they
have seized the wine." This was petty work, and to make the thing more
provoking, they had poor Maitland stuck up next day in the Plymothian
journals as having been detected in the act of conveying wine and
other presents on shore, received from Napoleon. What was the fate of
the wine, I do not know, but the gig, of course, was restored
immediately, and I should suppose the wine also, considering the
shameful nature of the seizure.
On the 4th of August we left Plymouth Sound in company with the
Tonnant, bearing the flag of Admiral Lord Keith, and on the 6th we
came to an anchor off Berryhead, there to wait the arrival of the
Northumberland, which was hourly expected. She made her appearance in
the course of the day, and after due salutes from both admiral's
ships, in which noisy greeting we of course joined, for we are very
polite at sea, in our own thundering way, she took up her station
close by us.
Towards evening Lord Keith came on board of us, and had a long
personal interview with Napoleon in the cabin, which we may judge was
not of the pleasantest nature. From some intemperate threat of Savary,
I believe, who had declared that he would not allow his master to
leave the Bellerophon alive, to go into such wretched captivity, it
was judged proper to deprive the refugees of their arms. A good many
swords, and several brace of pistols, marked with a large silver N. at
the butt end, were brought down to the gun-room, where they remained
for some hours. Three of the swords belonged to Napoleon, and two of
them were pointed out to us as those he wore at Marengo and
Austerlitz.
I never in my life felt such a strong inclination to lay my hands on
what was not my own. A sword I durst not think of, but could I have
got a brace of pistols, or even one solitary pistol, belonging to
Napoleon, I would have thought myself the happiest man alive; but it
would not do, detection was certain, and with bitter vexation I saw
them carried out of the gun-room. Now, reader, do you think this
would have been a pardonable theft? Their value was nothing in my
eyes; it was a relic of the great man I wanted, and I cared not what
it was, or how I came by it; therefore, had I been able to secure a
pistol, my conscience would never have smote me with having done
wrong; and I am sure, could the Emperor have known with what a pure
spirit of devotion I meant to commit the theft, he would have ordered
me a brace instantly.
It was this night settled that our surgeon, Barry O'Meara, who
afterwards became so conspicuous for his spirited defence of his
patient against the tyranny of Sir Hudson Lowe (I hate to write that
man's name,) should follow Napoleon to St Helena in the character of
surgeon, his own, who looked a poor creature, and was continually
sea-sick while on board, having declined, I believe, to accompany him
farther, and the 7th was appointed for Napoleon leaving the ship.
The 7th came; it was a dull cloudy sunless day, and every countenance
was overcast with gloom. We had not seen the Emperor for a week, and
we were all anxious to observe the change that the horrible tidings of
his destination had made upon him. Lord Keith, Admiral Cockburn, and
Captain Ross, came on board about eleven o'clock; and it was intimated
to Napoleon, that they were ready to conduct him on board the
Northumberland. A general's guard of marines was drawn up on the
quarter-deck, to receive him as he came out of the cabin; while part
of his suite, and we officers, were ranged about, anxiously waiting
the appearance of the future exile of St Helena.
Napoleon was long of attending to the intimation of the Admiral's; and
upon Cockburn's becoming impatient, and remarking to old Lord Keith
that he should be put in mind, Keith replied, "No, no, much greater
men than either you or I have waited longer for him before now; let
him take his time, let him take his time." This was nobly said of the
fine old Scotchman; and although Cockburn and I are blood relations,
and I have a particular penchant for my lineage, I cannot help
remarking that his manner denoted a great want of feeling. I suppose
he was pitched upon by Castlereagh as a proper tool to execute his
harsh commands.
At length Napoleon appeared, but oh, how sadly changed from the time
we had last seen him on deck. Though quite plain, he was scrupulously
cleanly in his person and dress, but that had been forgot, his clothes
were ill put on, his beard unshaved, and his countenance pale and
haggard. There was a want of firmness in his gait; his brow was
overcast, and his whole visage bespoke the deepest melancholy; and it
needed but a glance to convince the most careless observer that
Napoleon considered himself a doomed man. In this trying hour,
however, he lost not his courtesy or presence of mind; instinctively
he raised his hat to the guard of marines, when they presented arms as
he passed, slightly inclined his head, and even smiled to us officers
as he passed through us, returned the salute of the admirals with calm
dignity, and, walking up to Captain Maitland, addressed him with great
eagerness for nearly ten minutes.
How distinct is every feature, every trait, every line of that
majestic countenance in my mind's eye at this moment, now that
two-and-twenty years have passed away; but who could witness such a
scene and ever forget it? The Romans said that a "great man struggling
with adversity was a sight that the gods looked on with pleasure."
Here, indeed, was adversity, and here was true greatness struggling
against it; but to a mere mortal it was a heart-rending sight. The
ship's deck looked like a place of execution, and we only wanted the
headsman, his block, and his axe, to complete the scene.