The War for All the Oceans

by Roy Adkins

  In mid-December, astounding news reached these Americans. Benjamin Palmer from Stonington, Connecticut, had originally been captured from the privateer Rolla and spent some time imprisoned in a hulk at Melville Island before being transferred to Dartmoor in October. He wrote in his journal: ‘PEACE! PEACE! Huzza for Peace. This morning news was brought in that the preliminaries of Peace were signd on the 3dInst . . . When this report was circulated through the Prison, it seemd as if the prisoners would jump out of their skins - all Buzz all talk & all Jaw.’8 The next day the reports were of ‘War! War! Rumors of War—The papers of today wear quite a different aspect.’9

  At the end of the year, though, peace was confirmed, as Torey recounted:On the 28th of this month, December, 1815 [actually 1814], the news arrived here that a treaty of peace was signed the 24th instant at Ghent. After a momentary stupor, acclamations of joy burst forth from every mouth. It flew like wild fire through the prison; and ‘peace! peace! peace!’ echoed throughout these dreary regions. To know that we were soon to return home, produced a sensation of joy beyond the powers of expression. Some screamed, holloaed, danced, sung, and capered, like so many Frenchmen. Others stood in amaze, with their hands in their pockets, as if doubtful of its truth . . . Some unforgiving spirits hail the joyful event as bringing them nearer the period of revenge, which they long to exercise on some of their tyrannical keepers.10

  Nathaniel Pierce from Newburyport in Massachusetts had been captured only the month before and was taken to Dartmoor just as news of the peace arrived, ‘which makes great rejoicing amongst the Prisoners, and on every Prison the American flag is displayed with the Motto Free Trade & sailors rights, which was never allow’d in this place before’.11 Benjamin Palmer was also ecstatic: ‘PEACE, PEACE, I cannot write any more at present’,12 and on the 30th he joyfully noted that ‘we hoisted our saucy flags, on them are displayed Free trade and Sailors Rights in large capital letters—It humbles the British pride to see this Motto on our flag . . . This forenoon some English officers came up to see the prisoners & the band of No 4 played up Yankee doodle dandy. O it galls them.’13 Although the treaty required ratification in America, as far as the prisoners were concerned the war was at an end. ‘We calculate,’ Torey commented, ‘that the ratification of the treaty by the president of the United States, will arrive in England by the 1st of April [1815], at which period there will not be an American left in this place.’14 Their high spirits were soon dampened when nothing was done to release them.

  While the peace with America looked secure, from the outset many had been doubtful about the peace in Europe lasting while Napoleon remained on Elba, close to the continent he had dominated for so long. Among these was Sir Sidney Smith, who was back in England in the summer of 1814. He had given up his command in South American waters in 1809, returning home that summer to a hero’s welcome from the public, formal thanks from the merchants trading with South America and a variety of honours. For nearly three years Smith was on leave, basking in the limelight in Britain, being promoted to vice-admiral in July 1810 and in October marrying Caroline, the widow of the diplomat Sir George Rumbold. In July 1812 he had been given the post of second-in-command in the Mediterranean, under Sir Edward Pellew. On his way from Fontainebleau to Elba Napoleon, already gathering any useful intelligence, had enquired who was in command of the Mediterranean, and Colonel Campbell, the commissioner on Elba, recorded: ‘I replied that I did not know, but that I believed Sir Sidney Smith was one of the admirals. He seemed to be moved by this, but quickly laughed it off.’15 It is likely that what moved Napoleon was the thought that the prophecy that Smith had written while imprisoned in the Temple had come true - that fortune’s wheel would turn and Smith would one day be as powerful as Napoleon was then, while the latter would himself be imprisoned.

  Smith was in the Mediterranean for just under a year, but because of the boredom of blockade duty and deteriorating health he had relinquished his command. Back in London in July 1814 he had an unexpected visit from his old friend Hyde de Neuville, one of the French Royalists involved in his escape from the Temple in 1798. De Neuville had just become a diplomat in the service of the newly restored French monarchy and was collecting information on how the British viewed the situation in France. He noted how Smith was brutally blunt with him: ‘“But, do you not see a black speck, to which no one is paying any attention, on the other side of the Channel?” A map of Europe was beside him, and he went on: “Measure the distance between the Isle of Elba and the southern part of the coast of France. Is it anything to the man who has passed over the countries of Europe with such giant strides? Could he not within a few hours find himself again among his battalions?”’16

  De Neuville was immediately struck by the danger of Napoleon returning. Smith then continued: ‘Do you not know, the Emperor, at Fontainebleau, had already studied on the map the position of Elba . . . Your countrymen deceive themselves greatly, if they imagine that the prestige surrounding Napoleon’s name has been destroyed by the recent reverses of France . . . If they will listen to you at Paris, advise them to watch the coasts.’17 In fact, when Napoleon was first told he was being sent to Elba, he was reported as saying: ‘Elba? Who knows anything of Elba? Seek out some officer who is acquainted with Elba. Look out what books or charts can inform us about Elba.’18

  Smith was already planning a new project: a campaign against the white and black slave trade in the Mediterranean countries. This was to evolve into a society called the Knights Liberators of the Slaves in Africa, with Smith as its president, but in order to form this society he needed to canvass potential members, and the ideal venue for doing so was at hand. The allies against Napoleon had set up a congress in Vienna to decide the boundaries of Europe, the fate of colonies annexed during the war, and what, if anything, to do about Napoleon. Smith told de Neuville that measures to combat the pirates who captured white slaves could also keep a check on Napoleon: ‘The question of the liberty of the seas, and the means of putting down the piracy of the Barbary States, will be brought forward at the Congress at Vienna. This shameful brigandage is not only revolting to humanity, but fetters trade. The blockade of the African coasts, and the undertaking on the part of the nations interested, to furnish a maritime force capable of re-establishing security, would enable them, at the same time, to keep a watch over the Emperor’s proceedings. ’19

  The Congress was formally opened on 1 November 1814, with most heads of state attending, although the British Prince Regent was absent. Initially he was represented by Lord Castlereagh and later by the Duke of Wellington. The Congress attracted royalty, diplomats and statesmen, and the atmosphere was one of a perpetual party with all kinds of amusements provided at enormous expense by the host, Emperor Franz of Austria. This constant round of dinners, dances and entertainments was soon joined by Smith, who also brought his new wife and three step-daughters in his distinctive coach with his coat-of-arms painted on the door panels.

  While Smith and others lobbied for particular causes and the diplomats divided up Europe at a leisurely pace, Napoleon was apparently getting to grips with his new kingdom, under the gaze of an array of agents from various nations who were set to report on his behaviour. The consensus was that if Napoleon decided to escape he would land in Italy and perhaps try to join up with Murat, once one of Napoleon’s generals and now King of Naples. On Elba Napoleon set in motion plans for improving the defences of the island, its infrastructure and industries, and made an appearance of being totally absorbed in these projects. His mail was opened and read, and visitors to the island were discreetly scrutinised, but he still managed secret communications with his supporters and used every means in his power to accumulate intelligence about events in Europe.

  On the journey to Elba Napoleon had already commented to Captain Ussher that the Bourbon monarchy would be driven out again within six months and he felt that matters would be made worse by the allies’ determination to reduce the power of France to stop the possibility o
f another war. This would, he believed, wound the pride of every Frenchman and have the opposite effect: ‘France had no longer any fleets or colonies; a peace would not restore ships or San Domingo. Poland no longer existed, nor Venice; these went to aggrandise Russia and Austria. Spain, which is the natural enemy of Great Britain, more so than of France, was incapable of doing anything as an ally. If to these sacrifices were added that of a disadvantageous treaty of commerce with Great Britain, the people of France would not remain tranquil under it, not even six months after the foreign powers have quitted Paris.’20

  The men who watched him suspected that Napoleon was merely biding his time before he made a bid to regain the power and position he had lost, but there was virtually no evidence, and in any case attention was focused on Vienna. By now it was apparent to Campbell, who monitored Napoleon for the British government, that Napoleon was spending beyond his means, not least because the allies had failed to pay the allowance they had promised him. Campbell was concerned that this might tempt Napoleon to sail for Italy, as he outlined in a dispatch to Lord Castlereagh: ‘If pecuniary difficulties press upon him much longer, so as to prevent his vanity from being satisfied by the ridiculous establishment of a court which he has hitherto supported in Elba, and if his doubts are not removed, I think he is capable of crossing over to Piombino with his troops, or of any other eccentricity. But if his residence in Elba and his income are secured to him, I think he will pass the rest of his life there in tranquillity.’21 This was a mistake, since already Napoleon was making preparations in readiness for any opportune moment to leave Elba and seize power again.

  By Christmas it was not only Napoleon who was feeling pressed for cash: the Emperor of Austria had spent so much on the Congress he had a cash-flow problem and could not pay his troops, and there was no end in sight. The allies mistrusted one another and seemed no nearer an agreement than when they started. Only the British favoured the new Bourbon monarchy in France because all the other major powers had at one time been allied to Napoleon. The former emperor was himself seen by each of the allies as a valuable asset, who at the very least would be a formidable commander of their armies if it came to a war. The British were also suspected of a covert plan to hold Napoleon in reserve as a threat to ensure their own requirements were met at Vienna. There was a feeling that a crisis was approaching and that war between the allies could well be the result.

  To most people in Britain the peace seemed secure, and they were once again drawn to travelling to France and beyond. Among them was Emma Hamilton, now almost a destitute alcoholic, fleeing from her creditors. She took Horatia, her daughter by Nelson, with her to Calais, but her health rapidly declined. She was nursed by the fourteen-year-old Horatia until she died on 15 January 1815 and was buried six days later in the graveyard of the church of St Pierre. In London The Times merely noted ‘DEATH OF LADY HAMILTON. - A letter from Calais, published in the Paris papers, says, that Lady HAMILTON died in that town the 16th instant.’22 Of the London papers, only the Morning Post produced anything like an obituary, which was actually a lengthy character assassination that was picked up and embellished by the provincial papers: ‘The origin of this lady was very humble, having been in her younger years a domestic . . . and she had experienced all those vicissitudes in early life which too generally attend those females whose beauty has betrayed them into vice, and which unhappily proves their chief means of subsistence. Few women, who have attracted the notice of the world at large, have led a life of more freedom . . . The friendship between Lady Hamilton and our great Naval Hero, Nelson, is too well-known to need any record in this place.’23

  Despite a life less promiscuous and more useful than many of the aristocracy and most of the royal family, Emma was never to be forgiven for the sin of being born into the working class. After Nelson’s death she had been gradually abandoned and ignored, and now the journalists could openly sneer at her. Horatia was taken back to England by the British Consul at Calais and put in the care of Nelson’s sister, Kate Matcham, and her husband George. Later she lodged with his sister Susanna Bolton and her family, staying with them until she married the curate Philip Ward in 1822.

  Perhaps fortunately for her memory, Emma’s death was instantly eclipsed in the London papers by news from Vienna. Once the diplomats there heard about the signing of the peace treaty between Britain and America at Ghent, they soon overcame the final obstacles to agreement between the allies - it would be peace not war in Europe. Now useless as threats against opponents if the peace talks failed, Napoleon on Elba and Murat in Naples were liabilities not assets. France wanted to rid Europe of these final reminders of the exile of the Bourbon monarchy and began to receive at least tacit support from some of the other allies.

  There was now peace in Europe and peace between Britain and America, but still the American prisoners were no nearer release. At Dartmoor in January 1815 there was an outbreak of smallpox, and towards the end of the month heavy falls of snow and bitterly cold temperatures added to the wretched state of the prisoners. Many deaths occurred not only from smallpox, but also pneumonia and typhus. John Seapatch from Massachusetts had been captured from a privateer off Halifax in November and was brought to Dartmoor on 27 December, but died on 7 February - at the age of twelve, he was the youngest prisoner to die there. A few days later Nathaniel Pierce noted gloomily in his journal: ‘11th This day Commences with disagreeable weather, and what we may call Dartmoor weather, for never was there a place I believe so disagreeable &c. unhealthy as this, great numbers die daily with the small Pox and other disorders, they average about five of a day, but we are in hopes shortly to be landed on that Blessed Eden the American shore.’24

  In this desperate state the prisoners were very grateful towards Dr George MaGrath for all the care he gave them. He had served as surgeon on board the Victory until a few months before Trafalgar, and Nelson had regarded him highly. When writing to Emma Hamilton, Nelson had said of MaGrath that he ‘is by far the most able medical man I have ever seen, and equally so as a Surgeon’.25 Until recently he had been the surgeon at nearby Millbay Prison at Plymouth. While still waiting for their release, the prisoners drafted a letter to their President, James Madison, in which they praised the doctor:It is impossible for us to speak of this gentleman in terms that will do justice to his superior professional science, brilliant talents, the exemplary virtues of his heart, the urbanity and easy accessibility of his manners, his unremitting assiduities and unwearied exertions, in combatting a succession of diseases of the most exasperated and malignant character, which prevailed among the prisoners . . . Dr. MaGrath’s time and attention were fully occupied in the hospital, and in vaccinating the prisoners . . . This truly great man’s exertions in the cause of suffering humanity, have been rarely equalled, but never excelled.26

  Henry Torey agreed that their prison wasblessed with a good man for a physician, named M’Garth, an Irishman, a tall lean gentleman with one eye, but of a warm and good heart. We never shall cease to admire his disposition, nor forget his humanity . . . We owe much to the humanity of Dr. M’Garth, a very worthy man . . . Was M’Garth commander of this dépôt, there would be no difficulty with the prisoners. They would obey him through affection and respect; because he considered us rational beings, with minds cultivated like his own and susceptible of gratitude, and habituated to do and receive acts of kindness; whereas the great Capt. Shortland considers us all as a base set of men, degraded below the rank of Englishmen.27

  Captain Thomas George Shortland had been in charge of Dartmoor Prison since December 1813. His naval career was distinguished, including action at the Dardanelles in 1807 and the Walcheren expedition in 1809, but he had started out with convicts in 1787 when he served on board the Alexander, the largest of the convict transport ships that sailed with the First Fleet to Australia’s Botany Bay. To Torey, Shortland was ‘the most detestable of men, and they [the prisoners] bestow on him the vilest and most abusive epithets’. 28 He did have some sympath
y for the man, and had heard that Shortland once declared that ‘I had rather have the charge of five thousand Frenchmen, than FIVE HUNDRED of these sons of liberty; and yet . . . I love the dogs better than I do the damn’d frog-eaters.’29

  By the end of February everyone was very dispirited. ‘Time hangs heavy on the weary and restless prisoner,’ Torey wrote in his journal. ‘His hopes of liberation, and his anxiety, increase daily and hourly. The Favorite! The Favorite [the sloop carrying the treaty to and from America], is in every one’s mouth; and every one fixes the day of her arrival . . . Our anxiety increases every day. We inquire of every one the news. We wait with impatience for the newspapers, and when we receive them are disappointed; not finding in them what we wish.’30 In their boredom they resorted to anything to pass the time, frequently gambling. Palmer related how he won one bet: ‘One of my Messmates has met with quite a Misfortune having kept a louse (in the collar of his shirt) for 2 or 3 days past to run a race with one of mine—this being the day they were to run for a pot of Porter. He [took] off Shirt, but behold the Louse was gone. He was accordingly obliged to pay the bet.’31