by Roy Adkins
One publication did lift their spirits, though, as Torey related:Now and then we get a sight of Cobbett’s Political Register; and when we do, we devour it, and destroy it, before it comes to the knowledge of our Cerberus.65 This writer [the radical William Cobbett] has a manner sui generis, purely his own; but it is somewhat surprising how he becomes so well informed of the actual state of things, and of the feelings and opinions of both parties in our country. His acuteness, his wit, his logic and his surliness, form, altogether, a curious portraiture of an English politician. We now and then get sight of American papers, but they are almost all of them Federal papers, and contain matter more hostile to our government than the English papers. The most detestable paper printed in London is called The Times.32
While the Americans waited for release, on Elba Napoleon continued to make his preparations for escape. He had at his disposal the brig Inconstant, a xebec called the Étoile, as well as several smaller vessels, and his agents managed to secure two small merchant ships and were trying to obtain more. In all, seven ships were finally accumulated, but not all were armed and even their combined fire-power was no match for the British frigate Partridge that cruised around Elba and whose captain, John Adye, liaised with Campbell. On top of this, two French frigates were stationed to the north of Elba in positions that made it almost impossible for a flotilla even as small as Napoleon’s to slip past unnoticed. Napoleon’s prime concern seems to have been the Partridge, and when this ship sailed on a regular trip to Leghorn it was the chance that he had counted on. After embarkation on the afternoon of 26 February, his flotilla had to be rowed and towed by boats out from Elba because of the lack of wind, but the next day a light breeze allowed them to crawl away north of the island.
At Leghorn Campbell, who had been in Florence to hand over dispatches, watched anxiously as the wind failed and the Partridge was becalmed outside the harbour. On his return to Leghorn he had read the recent intelligence reports and was sure Napoleon was about to escape, so he was desperate to return to Elba. Once on board he wasted no time in persuading Adye they must sail at once, but the wind was so light that the ship inched along. The Partridge recorded spotting three ships on thehorizon, but did not stop to investigate and clawed its way on towards Elba.
To avoid contact with the British, Napoleon’s ships altered course, heading straight for one of the French frigates. It is not clear how Napoleon circumvented this obstacle, but it is almost certain that one or both French frigates passively let him pass or actively helped him on his way. By the morning of the 28th the Partridge was in sight of Elba when the wind failed again. Campbell was rowed ashore and immediately saw that Napoleon and many of his troops were gone. He stopped long enough to find out that the destination was France, not Italy as expected, and the Partridge set off in pursuit. It was too late, as Napoleon was now too far ahead, and he began landing his small force at Golfe Juan, just west of Antibes. Campbell and Adye received news of the landing from a British ship on 7 March and learned that ‘Napoleon had disembarked at midday on March 1, in Juan Bay between Antibes and Fréjus. In a few hours after, he had marched off towards Grenoble without opposition.’33
Napoleon’s intelligence-gathering had proved better than that of all the allies, for he had a good idea of the strength of the support he could expect and he had proclamations prepared to rouse up the people in his favour. As Campbell followed his progress via intelligence reports, he correctly predicted that ‘the test of Napoleon’s success will be made at Grenoble, and that he will endeavour to bring it to that issue as soon as possible, before the accumulation of force [against him] renders his passage of the Isère more difficult’.34 At the town of La Mure, a few miles south of Grenoble, Napoleon’s advance guard found that troops were blocking the road ahead and beyond them was the strong garrison of Grenoble itself. On 7 March the two forces came face to face and for some time it was a stand-off, neither side willing to make a move. Napoleon studied the situation and sent emissaries to test the resolution of the opposing force and try to win them over. As Napoleon suspected, their commanders had not received clear orders and they were not sure what to do, particularly as they were aware that many of their troops were old supporters of Napoleon.
When he judged the time was right Napoleon sent an officer forward to shout out that the emperor was about to advance at the head of his men and that if they opened fire he would be the first to fall. It was a calculated risk, but Napoleon had plenty of time to judge the moment when the opposing troops were ready to defect. He led his troops forward with their muskets on their left arms and bayonets sheathed as a sign of peace, and ‘throwing open his greatcoat to show himself more conspicuously, and calling out, “Kill your Emperor if you wish it!” the whole [body of soldiers blocking the road] immediately joined [him]’.35 The bluff worked, and afterwards it was found that many of the troops blocking the road had not even loaded their guns because no such order had been given. With superb skill Napoleon had played on the drama of the moment, and as he approached Grenoble with the recently recruited soldiers leading the way to call out to their comrades in the garrison, they walked in through one gate while the few remaining royalists fled from another.
Grenoble was the turning point for Napoleon: after that his journey to Paris was more of a triumphal progress with old soldiers flocking to his eagle standards. He was well aware, however, that the spell he was casting over the people was extremely fragile. It would only need opposition from a strong force determined to stop him, and the bloodshed resulting from Frenchmen fighting Frenchmen would shatter the dream. On 20 March, his son’s birthday, Napoleon entered the city from which Louis XVIII had fled the night before. From this day Napoleon would have barely four months before he was forced into exile again, because he made one fatal mistake. After receiving news that the Congress of Vienna had reached agreement, he assumed that this huge, expensive meeting would soon break up and the heads of state would be dispersed before they knew that he had left Elba. He counted on the distrust and jealousy between the members of the coalition to provide the opportunity for him to approach them individually with his old and successful tactics of dividing and conquering. The Congress had not broken up quickly, however, as those attending seemed reluctant to leave what had become a four-month-long party at the Emperor of Austria’s expense. When news of Napoleon’s escape reached Vienna in the early hours of 7 March, meetings were immediately convened and messages sent to halt the withdrawal of the allied armies. In the days that followed Napoleon was outlawed and the allies were reunited against him.
In the middle of March the American prisoners at Dartmoor heard the news that Napoleon had landed in France after his escape from Elba, and in order to annoy the British they cheered loudly in his support, even though they despised the French. ‘There is but little love between us,’ Henry Torey noted; ‘—yet we pretend great respect and affection for that nation and their chief, principally to torment overbearing surly John Bull.’36 Also in mid-March, the ratified Treaty of Ghent was at last returned to Britain, and rumours began to filter through to Dartmoor, as Nathaniel Pierce described: ‘These 24 hours bring in thick & hazy weather and the American flag is hoisted on all the Prisons & have been ever since we receiv’d this glorious news. The Band also has been playing all over the yards and Prisons, now and then stopping and Cheering, & every man seems hardly able to Contain himself for joy; last night this Prison was illuminated & great joy prevails among us.’37
Torey also recounted the immense happiness: ‘This long expected event threw us all into such a rapturous roar of joy, that we made old Dartmoor shake under us, with our shouts; and to testify our satisfaction we illuminated this dépôt of misery. Even Shortland affected joy, and was seen more than once, like Milton’s Devil, to grin horribly a ghastly smile.’38 He added that ‘as there can now be no longer a doubt of our being soon set at liberty, our attention is directed to the agent for prisoners for fixing the time and arranging the means. Mr. Beasley had
written that as soon as the Treaty was ratified he would make every exertion for our speedy departure. He must be aware of our extreme impatience to leave this dreary spot, whose brown and grassless surface renders it a place more proper for convicts than an assemblage of patriots.’39
The American agent, Reuben Beasley, was much hated by the prisoners, and Torey reckoned that ‘his conduct is here condemned by six thousand of his countrymen’. 40 Unfortunately, America and Britain failed to reach any agreement about who should pay to charter ships to send home prisoners from their respective countries, and Beasley was in any case unable to find sufficient ships to charter. He further inflamed the prisoners by telling them that their daily allowance was to be cut now that the war was at an end. There was still no release for the six thousand increasingly frustrated and angry men, even though they were now technically free. Torey remarked that ‘during the time that passed between the news of peace, and that of its ratification, an uneasy and mob-like disposition more than once betrayed itself . . . It may seem strange to some, but I am confident that there is no class of people among us more strongly attached to the American soil, than our seamen, who are floating about in the world and seldom tread on the ground.’41
Some of the prisoners vented their anger against Beasley by conducting a mock trial using an effigy of the man, as Torey explained: ‘He was indicted for many crimes towards them and towards the character of the United States. The jury declared him guilty of each and every charge, and he was sentenced by an unanimous decree of his judges, to be hanged by the neck until he was dead, and after that to be burnt. They proceeded with him to the place of execution, which was from the roof of prison No. 7, where a pole was rigged out, to which was attached a halter.’42 The effigy was then hung, cut down and burnt. After this incident it was believed that Captain Shortland became increasingly nervous, and some prisoners chalked on the prison walls ‘BE YOU ALSO READY!’.43
At the end of March news of the British defeat at New Orleans reached the prisoners. ‘Instead of shouting and rejoicing,’ Torey said, ‘as in ordinary victories, we seemed mute with astonishment . . .The more particulars we hear of this extraordinary victory the more we are astonished. We cannot be too grateful to heaven for allowing us, a people of yesterday, to wind up the war with the great and terrible nation, the mistress of the ocean, in a manner and style that will inspire respect from the present and future race of men.’44 Everybody was despairing of ever getting away from Dartmoor, and on 1 April Pierce wrote: ‘No news has come to us yet about our release from this dark hole of Despotism. It is now upwards of a month since the Peace was ratified by the President of the U. S. America. It is tedious indeed to lie in prison when our Countrymen are ploughing the Ocean and reaping the benefits thereof; no news except a report that we are to lie here until the arrival of Cartels from America.’45
On 4 April, Shortland was on business in Plymouth. That day the prisoners were angry because their bread allowance was unavailable, replaced with hard biscuit, which the contractor was apparently trying to shift before all the prisoners were released. A messenger was sent to Shortland to warn him about the mood of the prisoners, but everything was peaceful on his return the next day. Thursday 6 April also began in a fairly cheerful way, as Pierce recounted:This day commences with light airs from the Eastward & Cloudy weather, first part of this day the Prisoners diverting themselves Gambling, playing Ball &c. At about 4 Oclock P. M. a sham fight was acted between the yard & Grass plot by about 300 men and it made fine sport indeed, throwing turfs of Grass at each other; the British envying our happiness order’d them out the grass plot which they complied with without the least resistance but before this a number of mischievous men have been making a Breach through the wall into the Barrack yard which they completed about the time their sport was ended in the Grass Plot.46
Benjamin Palmer believed that the hole in the wall (dividing part of the prison from the army barracks) had been made two days earlier and that the prisoners who were throwing turf were somewhat drunk. When the soldiers ordered the men to stop, they discovered the hole. By then it was early evening, when most prisoners were indoors. Captain Shortland was informed of the hole and immediately alarm bells were rung to alert the troops. Many more prisoners started to congregate to find out what was happening, and the lock on the gate leading to the marketplace was broken. The prisoners were ordered back, but refused, so the soldiers advanced with fixed bayonets. Hundreds of Americans now tried to retreat, but their numbers were too great. Somebody then shouted ‘Fire!’, though it was never certain if the order came from Shortland, from an army officer or even from one of the prisoners. Palmer, who thought that Shortland was drunk, wrote in his diary that he would remember this affair to the day he died:The Soldiers gave an alarm that we were all coming out. The drum beat to quarters, and the Prisoners run towards the gate, where meeting the Soldiers, they were fired upon - and on running into the Prisons for safety were seen falling in all directions. The Soldiers followed on and fired Volley after Volley into the Doors & Windows without Mercy. Several who could not get [indoors] in time enough (owing to the crowd) were most inhumanly Butcher’d. Five Soldiers discharged their Muskets upon one man after he was Shot. Some that lay wounded on the ground were Jumped upon - and Bayonets plunged in them . . . One of our crew [John Washington of the Rolla] was Killed but my Messmates all Escaped - unhurt, being mostly in the House at this time. I was out but having no hand in the Sport [throwing turf], did not intend to Share in the danger, and wisely made my retreat in to the prison as soon as they commenced firing.47
Seven prisoners were killed outright, seven required amputation and over fifty others were injured less severely. Three men died later, the youngest being Thomas Jackson, a seaman from New York, aged fourteen, who was shot in the stomach. Nathaniel Pierce also thought that Shortland was drunk and was responsible for the massacre. The day afterwards he related that ‘at about 9 Capt. Shortland & the Colonel came down to apologize for his firing upon us saying it was not his fault for he did not order them to fire. Which I knew is a positive lie for I heard him myself order them to fire upon them.’48 Dr MaGrath, he noted, was horrified: ‘After the surviving prisoners were all in, the Doctor sent for the wounded which was all sent into hospital, where Capt. Shortland appear’d to see them & in a most cruel manner threaten’d to run a man through who had lost an arm. But the Doctor prevented him & order’d him out & at last put him out after receiving several blows from the Capt. The Doctor a very humane man, it is said Cry’d like a child to see the slaughter & Blood shed that was made.’49
An inquest was held, with a verdict brought in of justifiable homicide, and a detailed inquiry followed. The eyewitness reports conflicted, and exactly what had happened was never ascertained, but each side blamed the other. This massacre prompted the Admiralty to arrange for transport ships to take the men back to America and settle the finances later. The first batch of prisoners, over two hundred in number, were released from the prison at the end of the month and marched to Plymouth, poorly clothed and ill-shod. One of those was Henry Torey, who said that ‘at every step we took from the hateful prison, our enlarged souls expanded our lately cramped bodies. At length we attained a rising ground; and O, how our hearts did swell within us at the sight of the OCEAN! . . . This ground, said I, belongs to the British; but that ocean, and this air, and that sun, are as much ours as theirs.’50
They were forced to remain at Plymouth for a fortnight, and in that time Torey’s attitude towards the British altered, as he found that most people there were well disposed to Americans: ‘We were kindly noticed by several good people, who seemed to be rather partial to us Americans than otherwise. While there, I heard but very little uttered against America, or Americans. We were spoken to, and treated infinitely better than at Halifax [in Canada]. By the time of our embarkation . . . we felt considerable attachment to the people about us.’51
Pierce was not lucky enough to be released early, but towards
the end of May he was optimistically ‘employ’d knitting a pair of shoes, to walk down to Plymouth in, when it comes to my turn, but, the Lord knows when that will be’.52 By early July most American prisoners were on their way home. They left behind at least 270 Americans and 1200 French who had died during their imprisonment, buried in the graveyard outside the prison. Memorials to both the French and Americans now mark their final resting place. Pierce was one of the last to leave, and witnessed the arrival of many French soldiers captured at Waterloo. On 2 July he wrote his last journal entry: ‘There are now (2PM) 2000 Frenchmen entering the gates mostly soldiers. End pleasant & ends this journal for want of paper, tomorrow I leave this cursed Depot.’53
The road to Waterloo began when Napoleon’s attempts to arrive at peaceful terms with the allies fell flat. This time the allies felt they could finally rid themselves of Napoleon and were determined to do so - if captured, he would be banished for ever. As their armies began to close in, Napoleon was faced with the choice of attempting pre-emptive strikes on individual allies or to remain on the defensive. Always predisposed to act boldly, he made the first move. A combined British and Prussian army was advancing on France from the north and although this force was one and a half times the size of his own, Napoleon counted on the uneasy alliance and less than unified command of his enemy to provide an advantage. He also knew that a defeat of the British was likely to make the current government fall, weaken the alliance against him and provide further opportunities he might be able to exploit. On the evening of 11 June he set out from Paris to lead his army into Belgium and head off the British and Prussians.
