Lost History – The nights Napoleon spent off the coast of Devon
Some years ago, I spotted Adam Zamoyski walking past my window. I had only recently finished his excellent book, Rites of Peace, and had a nerdy, and rather superficial question to ask him, so I rushed out of my house to catch the eminent historian as he turned the corner into the adjacent street. Breathless, I struggled to say “excuse me for bothering you, but you’re one of the leading Napoleonic historians in Britain and I can’t find an answer to this question.” “Go on,” he said, a little miffed by my sudden entrance into his life. “Did Wellington ever see Napoleon with his own eyes? I am aware that they never met but did he at least spy the great thief of Europe through his telescope at Waterloo?” Zamoyski began to scratch his chin and ponder. “I do seem to remember a moment when Wellington spotted Napoleon at Waterloo, but that could well be from the 1970 film.” It seemed to be so. I could find no record of Wellington witnessing his nemesis in the flesh.
As a result of this unanswered query, I began to delve into the details of Napoleon’s life after Waterloo. How did the most notorious figure of the age transition into retirement and what sort of people did he encounter on this unenviable journey from hero-warrior to dejected exile? To my surprise, I discovered that Napoleon had sent a request to the Prince Regent to come to England, where he would have lived out his days under the name of Muirion or Durac. As we all know, that request was denied, but the Emperor of France, Britain’s most persistent enemy, did spend a few nights off the coast of Devon.
After Waterloo, Napoleon retreated to the port of Rochefort where he considered escaping to the United States. That chimera was thwarted by the Royal Navy’s immuring blockade and so Bonaparte formally surrendered to Captain Maitland of HMS Bellephron, granting the course of his destiny to the decision of his oldest adversary. Maitland received orders from the Admiralty to bring the Emperor to the nearest english port, while the British government determined where to send him. Maitland immediately set sail for the fashionable seaside resort of Torbay, where he weighed anchor on the 24th July. News of Napoleon’s arrival soon reached the town and a fleet of dinghies and yachts disembarked to catch a glimpse of the iconic general. When Napoleon saw the Devon shore for the first time, he is said to have remarked at the beauty of the British coast, comparing it to the Bay of Ferrajo on the island of Elba. His keenness to come ashore rightly irked his jailers who watched daily crowds of sea-going tourists row their crafts round HMS Bellephron, offering the fallen idol flowers and foods.
Napoleon’s newly appointed guardian, Lord Keith, wrote to the admiralty warning them how dangerous it was to keep him so close to the prying eyes of the English public. Much to the chagrin of the admiralty, the ex-imperator had also been cited in a writ to provide evidence in the case of Cochrane v McKenrot. If that writ has been delivered to the admiralty, they would have been obliged to hand over their prisoner to the justice system. They were aware that Napoleon and his entourage would be difficult to deport once they had trodden on english ground. His celebrity and peculiar popularity made his advent a dangerous prospect. A great game of legal cat and mouse ensued, with Lord Keith skilfully avoiding the written entreaties of McKenrot for Napoleon’s absorption into the tedious process of english court proceedings.
Finally, the admiralty elected to send HMS Bellephron to Plymouth, where they expected to wait with their precious cargo unmolested by the public. Plymouth proved even less secure for the old Emperor. Larger armadas of anxious sightseers poured out of the harbour, adding extra pressure on the government to make a final choice on the fate Bonaparte. The story ends as every GCSE student knows – with Napoleon on St Helena, where he died on 25th May 1821, aged only 51.
A famous quote attributed to Napoleon during preparations for an invasion of the British Isles was, “make me master of the Channel for six hours and I shall be master of the world.” Well, he never did gain absolute mastery over the Channel or indeed the world, and even in defeat, the greatest military mind since Julius Caesar failed to land a single step on the sands of an English beach.