John Ashton

News of the Battle of Waterloo — Rejoicings — After career of Napoleon — His abdication and flight — Goes on board the Bellerophon — Arrives at Torbay — His habits on board — Ordered to Plymouth — Crowds try to get a glimpse of him — His protest against being sent to St. Helena — Transferred to the Northumberland — Opinion as to the Prince Regent's conduct towards him — Sails for St. Helena.

At a quarter past eleven on the night of the 21st of June, the Hon. Major Percy arrived at the office of Earl Bathurst, Secretary of State for War—bearing despatches from the Duke of Wellington dated the 19th, giving an account of the actions which had taken place since the 15th, and including the Battle of Waterloo. Earl Bathurst opened the despatches, and he and their bearer immediately waited, with them, upon the Prince Regent. The Lord Mayor had notification of the great Victory early in the morning of the 22nd, and the guns of the Tower, and St. James's Park thundered forth their salute of gratulation. The funds went up with a bound, Omnium vibrated between a rise of 8 to 10 per cent. and left off 8¹/₈ per cent. higher.

The following placard was posted up:—

"Mansion House, Thursday, June 22, 1815.

"Notice having been given that the Public Offices will be illuminated Friday and Saturday evening next, in consequence of the late glorious Victory,

"The Lord Mayor recommends to the inhabitants of this City to defer illuminating their houses till that time."

And, accordingly, on the 23rd, all the Government, and City public offices lit up; but it does not seem to have been a very grand illumination, probably because the time for preparation was somewhat short.

After the battle of Waterloo,[3] Napoleon hastened to Paris; and, tired, and covered with dust as he was, he immediately met his Ministers, and told them the extent of his disasters. They laid the intelligence before the Houses of Legislature, and, on the morning of June 22nd, Napoleon received a deputation from the Chamber, who submitted to him, that "the state of war in which France was involved, concerned much less the nation than himself, and that the Assembly had the means at command, if he would act so disinterested a part, as to restore to it freedom of action, according as circumstances might dictate."

This was a pretty broad hint to Napoleon to abdicate, and he took it as such, and sent the following reply:—

"Frenchmen! When I began the war to uphold National Independence, I relied on the union of all efforts, all wills, and on the co-operation of all national authorities. I was justified in anticipating success, and I braved all the declarations of the Powers against my person. Circumstances seem to be changed. I offer myself as a sacrifice to the hatred against France. May your enemies prove sincere, and may it appear that they wage war against me alone! My political life is terminated. I proclaim my son, under the title of Napoleon II.,[4] Emperor of the French. The present Ministers will form the Council of the Provisional Government. The interest which I take in my son induces me to invite the Chambers to organize a Regency without delay, by a special law. Unite for the general safety, and to secure national independence.

"Napoleon.

"At the Palace of the ÉlysÉe, June 22, 1815."

But the Ministry did not see it in the same light, the building was rapidly crumbling, and it was sauve qui peut with the rats. Napoleon was politically dead, and even The Times must needs kick him.

"June 30. 1815.... The wretch, with the blood of so many thousands on his head, seemed to carry about with him all the coolness of that apathy which is part of his physical constitution; and, so degraded and demoralized are the Parisian populace, that they could see the butcher of their race without the least emotion. He is, however, spoken of in the journals, and in the debates, without any share of that respect which was but lately attached to his name. After his former abdication he was invariably termed the 'Emperor,' but now he is called nothing but 'Napoleon.'"

Abdication is a game that cannot be played more than twice, the result, then, being considered final, so Napoleon retired to Malmaison, virtually a prisoner, for he had not been there long ere General Becker came to him, and informed him that he was appointed by the Provisional Government to command the troops detailed for his protection. Napoleon knew the meaning of this message, but even being made a prisoner by his own soldiery did not quell his spirit.

The presence of Napoleon at Malmaison embarrassed the Government, and Becker had orders to convey Napoleon, with all speed, to the Isle of Aix. Accordingly, they set out, and reached Rochefort on the 3rd of July, where he remained until the 8th, when he embarked on board the Saale frigate, but without any hope of getting to sea, because of the blockade of the port by the Bellerophon and other English men-of-war. He occasionally landed on the Isle of Aix; but all hopes of reaching America seems to have been abandoned, as Las Cases and Savary were sent on board the Bellerophon to inquire of Captain Maitland whether he knew anything of the passports which Napoleon expected from the British Government, and whether any opposition would be offered to his sailing to the United States. Captain Maitland replied that he knew nothing of the intentions of his Government, but he, certainly, could not allow any ship of war to leave the port, and, in the course of conversation asked, "Why not seek an asylum in England?"

The hint, thus dropped, fructified; for, after another visit of Las Cases and General Lallemand on board the Bellerophon, on July 14th, avowedly to repeat their various questions, the matter was openly discussed, and, on mentioning the result of their interview to the Emperor, he agreed to this course, and desired Las Cases to tell Captain Maitland to prepare to receive him, and his suite, the next day. At the same time, he entrusted General Gourgaud with an autograph letter to the Prince Regent, directing him to take it to England, and deliver it into the Prince's hands.

From the date of this letter, which was the 13th, it would seem that Napoleon had, on the previous day, made up his mind what course to pursue. The following is the text of the letter:—

On the 15th, then, Napoleon and suite went on board the Bellerophon, where they were received by Captain Maitland and his officers; the Emperor saying, "I have come to throw myself on the protection of your Prince and Laws." He was treated on board the Bellerophon 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 of 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, exclaiming, "What a beautiful country! it very much resembles Porto Ferrajo at Elba."

About 8 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! (July 25, 1815):

"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, both in 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 obtained 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 despatches 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 despatches to Lord Melville, at Wimbledon, by whom their contents were communicated to Lord Liverpool, at his seat at Coombe 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 despatches 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 land his prisoners until he had received orders from Government.

"Buonaparte's suite, as it is called, consists of upwards of forty persons, among whom are Bertrand, Savary, Lallemand, Grogau,[5] and several women. He has been allowed to take on board carriages and horses, but admission was denied to about fifty 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 inquiry, did not give him any cause to regret that he had not risked 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. Grogau, one of his party, was put on board the Slaney as the bearer of it; but, when the vessel reached Plymouth, the officer on duty there, with a decision that does him credit, refused Grogau 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 the 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."

In a letter from on board the Bellerophon, Napoleon's personel is thus described:

"I observed his person particularly, and can describe him thus:—He is about 5 feet 7 inches in height, very strongly made, and well proportioned; very broad and deep chest; legs and thighs proportioned with great symmetry and strength, a small, round, and handsome foot. His countenance is sallow, and, as it were, deeply tinged by hot climates; but the most commanding air I ever saw. His eyes grey, and the most piercing you can imagine. His glance, you fancy, searches into your inmost thoughts. His hair dark brown, and no appearance of grey. His features are handsome now, and when younger, he must have been a very handsome man. He is rather fat, and his belly protuberant, but he appears active, notwithstanding. His step, and demeanour altogether commanding. He looks about 45 or 46 years of age. In fact, he is very like the picture exhibited of him in the Adelphi, and also several of the prints.

"He is extremely curious, and never passes anything remarkable in the ship, without immediately demanding its use, and inquiring minutely into the manner thereof. He also stops and asks the officers divers questions relative to the time they have been in the service, what actions, &c.; and he caused all of us to be introduced to him, the first day he came on board. He also asked several questions about the marines, particularly those who appeared to have been some time in the service, and about the warrant officers, midshipmen, seamen, &c. He was but a very short time on board when he asked that the boatswain might be sent for, in order that he might look at him, and was very inquisitive as to the nature of his duty. He dresses in green uniform, with red facings and edged with red, two plain gold epaulettes, the lapels of the coat cut round and turned back, white waistcoat and breeches, and military boots and spurs, the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honour on his left breast. He professes his intention (if he is allowed to reside in England) to adopt the English customs and manners, and declares that he will never meddle with politics more. The Army, which left Paris, and united with others on the Loire, wanted him to rejoin them and resume his title, which he refused to do. He declares that not another 'goutte de sang' shall be shed on his account. Fortunate, indeed, it would have been if he had really been of this opinion some years back.

"His followers still treat him with the greatest respect, not one of them, not even the Duke of Rovigo himself, ever speaking to him, without being uncovered the whole time. He does not appear out until about half-past ten, though he rises about seven. He breakfasts in the French fashion at eleven, and dines at six. He spends most of the day alone in the after-cabin, and reads a great deal. He retires to bed about eight. He has not latterly been much upon the quarter-deck. His suite is composed of fifty people."

I give an illustration of "Bonaparte on the Quarter-deck of H.M.S. Northumberland, drawn during his passage to St. Helena," which fully bears out the above description.

On July 26th 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[6] of her, and ships' boats continually rowing round her, kept that space clear.

Visitors from London, and all parts of England, came to get a glimpse of him, and the sea was literally alive with boats of every description. The following is by an eye witness[7]:—

This doggerel helps us to realize 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, every one, 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[9]:—

"The desire of all ranks to see him was excessive; the guard boats 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 quarter-deck 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 quarter-deck, or in the after-cabin to study. The comedy of The Poor Gentleman[10] 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.[11]

"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 30th or 31st, when Lord Keith went on board the Bellerophon, and presented him with the following despatch:—

"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."

That the Government was in earnest as to his departure was soon shown, for orders came on August 4th 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:—

This might have been good logic had it not been for the little episode of Elba, which showed that neither honour, nor treaties, could bind him, and the contiguity of England to France was far too near. His residence here would be a fruitful source of intrigue and danger to both countries. Every reason of sound policy was for his complete isolation; but, whether that sentence was carried out either humanely, or with even a show of deference to Napoleon's feelings, is another question, which needs no discussion here.

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, the arms of Napoleon's suite were taken from them, but the ex-Emperor was allowed to retain his sword. All their money, diamonds, and saleable effects were put under seal, but Napoleon kept 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 of August 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 from St. Helena.

There were but a very few satirical prints anent him published after his departure, and, I think, not one after the news of his safe arrival at St. Helena. There was a sense of relief that now he was powerless for mischief, and a revulsion of feeling set in. It was then the heyday of Boxing, and it was felt repugnant to all feelings of English manliness, to "hit a man when he was down." The Prince of Wales was severely remarked on for his conduct to his illustrious Captive, and the following poetry was exceedingly popular.

This illustration, which is separate from, but goes well with the song, is called "Boxiana, or the Fancy," and the poem is an "Epistle from Tom Cribb to Big Ben, containing some Foul Play in a Pugilistic Encounter," August, 1815:—

And so Napoleon fades away.