Admiral Sir John Duckworth, who had a good fighting record, was ordered to proceed with the utmost expedition to Constantinople with a powerful fleet and to take up the best position from which he might act offensively against it. He was to communicate with Mr. Arbuthnot, and upon receiving intimation from him that hostilities ought to commence, he was to demand the surrender of the Turkish fleet, with a menace of immediate operations against the city in case of refusal. The object of this demonstration was to enable Mr. Arbuthnot to insist on the dismissal of General Sebastiani, Napoleon’s emissary, and to renew the Treaty of Friendship that had been negotiated by John Spencer Smith in 1798. He was also to insist on the renewal of the Treaty of Friendship between Russia and Turkey, Russia being, at that time, our ally.
Sir Sidney was third in command of this expedition, not because he had always been on friendly terms with the Sultan, nor because of his earlier successes in the Levant and his unrivalled experience in Turkish affairs, but because the British army in Sicily wanted to get rid of him and go back to a purely defensive policy in place of that advocated by Lord Nelson of continually attacking the enemy on the mainland of Italy.
Admiral Duckworth entered the Dardanelles on 19th February, 1807. The forts on both shores opened fire, but he passed on up the straits leaving Sir Sidney, commanding the rear division, with orders to destroy a small Turkish squadron that had opposed him. In an action lasting only half an hour he drove all the Turkish ships ashore, and then his landing parties burnt them and dismantled a battery of thirty-one guns protecting them.
Being unfamiliar with the treacherous currents of the sea of Marmora, Duckworth, instead of approaching Constantinople along the European shore, got on the wrong side of the outflow of the Bosphorus and had to anchor eight miles away, so he was not in a position to threaten the city with his guns. Only a fresh and favourable wind would have enabled him to stem the current, and this did not arise. Mr. Arbuthnot with his family took refuge in the fleet. General Sebastiani, observing the admiral’s blunder, went to the sultan and persuaded him that in three days, with the help of the French engineers, defensive works could be constructed sufficiently powerful to resist any attack from the British fleet. They set feverishly to work, and they also sent delegates to prolong discussions in the flagship. After two days Mr. Arbuthnot became ill and could take no further part in the negotiations. Sir Sidney volunteered to go ashore in his place and use his influence with the Sultan; but Duckworth was not the man to take responsibility for so unconventional a step. He remained at anchor for ten days, with the possibilities for effective action constantly diminishing, and then he went back through the Dardanelles.
In his dispatch he paid the following tribute:
It is with peculiar pleasure that I embrace the opportunity, which has been at this time afforded, of bearing testimony to the zeal and distinguished ability of Sir Sidney Smith; the manner in which he executed the service entrusted to him was worthy of the reputation which he has long since so justly and so generously established.
Mr. Arbuthnot returned to England, was awarded a pension of £2,000 and changed from the foreign service to the home service. He became a minor cabinet minister and a friend of the Duke of Wellington.
This reverse to the British arms had serious repercussions throughout Europe, and helped to undermine the Czar’s confidence in his ally. Mr. John Barrow, the biographer, has stated that General Sebastiani afterwards admitted that if Sir Sidney had been allowed to land and negotiate with the Sultan, it would have been all up with the French. This was also Sir Sidney’s opinion. He wrote to his brother Charles:
It is a poor consolation to me to see that the result sometimes justifies my predictions. It is painful to look back and see our ascendancy in these countries lost by the political expedient of sending new diplomatic men who (whatever their talents), had to buy their experience, and during their noviciate were totally in the hands of a dragoman (interpreter)...The Turks are wrong in their calculations after all, for they have more to fear from the French pretended friendship than from the passage of Russian troops through two provinces that hardly belonged to them. I am quite sure that I could have made them see this, if I had been allowed...
Thus Sir Sidney, both in Italy and at Constantinople, was prevented from performing the services for which he was so eminently qualified. While he was with Duckworth, Scilla and Reggio had fallen, and the whole of Southern Italy was again in the hands of the French. It seemed that the fanatical resistance of the partisans had been in vain, but it was a portent nevertheless. It was the first sign that the revolutionary and nationalist forces that, until then, Napoleon had been exploiting, were beginning to turn against him. The Calabrian revolt was stamped out — but it surely wasn’t intended that it should end like that. Perhaps Fate had not reckoned with the obtuseness of the British generals or with the pettiness of the British diplomats — Napoleon had prophesied that he would lose more men in Calabria than with the Grand Army, but they let him off.
The whole tragic drama had to be played out again, this time on a grander scale, in Spain. Here was another country where sea power could be used effectively to co-operate with an army, another country inhabited largely by ignorant, indisciplined, but tough and courageous peasants who needed the support of regular troops. This time the generals didn’t refuse to co-operate with them. No one had heard of the Calabresi, but with the Spaniards it was different: news of their revolt was hailed with enthusiasm by the British public, and the occupied countries took heart again. But before all this could come about there had to be a new alignment of forces.
Three months after Arbuthnot’s fiasco, the Emperor Napoleon and the Emperor Alexander met at Tilsit to make a treaty of peace. To persuade Alexander to ally himself with France and join the Continental System that was designed to exclude all British commerce from the continent of Europe, Napoleon proposed that they should partition the Turkish Empire between them and undertake a joint expedition to India through Persia with whom he had already signed a treaty of alliance. Their vast conquests, and the wealth of the British possessions in the east, would be ample recompense for any temporary hardship that a war with Britain might entail. By a secret Treaty of Alliance, 7th July, 1807, they agreed that there should no longer be any neutral countries. If Britain had not made peace by 1st December, Austria, Sweden, Denmark and Portugal would be ordered to close their ports and declare war on her.
The Danes were the first victims of the Secret Treaty of Alliance. On 2nd August, three weeks after it was ratified, Napoleon warned Marshal Bernadotte to be ready to seize the whole mainland of Denmark — but the British had early intelligence of his intentions. Admiral Gambier, Lord Cathcart and a Foreign Office emissary, Mr. Jackson, were sent to offer them a treaty of alliance and mutual defence, and to take their fleet to a British port to be kept there in trust for the duration of the war. The Danes refused to believe that their neutrality was threatened. The result was an ultimatum, a three-day bombardment of Copenhagen, and surrender. Then Admiral Gambier sailed away with their fleet: according to the compiler of Fouché’s memoirs, Napoleon was half-mad with rage when he learned that it had escaped him.
Canning, the Foreign Minister, was dissatisfied with the handling of this expedition. He had desired above all an alliance with Denmark, and he had to bear the odium of the bombardment of an open city. The Danes now allied themselves with France. The Swedes, attacked by the Czar, dethroned their king, Gustavus the Fourth, the uncompromising enemy of Napoleon, and put his uncle on the throne, the Duke of Soederman. In order to please Napoleon and gain his protection against Russia they elected one of his marshals, Bernadotte, as Prince Royal and Heir Apparent.
Portugal was now the one remaining open door on the continent of Europe for British goods, and Napoleon could get at it only through the territory of Spain, his ally. On 27th October, 1807, he made a treaty with the Bourbon government of Spain for the partition of Portugal between them, and he ordered a French army,
stationed in readiness at Bayonne under Junot, to march with all possible speed to Lisbon, the main and indispensable object being to seize the Portuguese fleet.
The Prince Regent of Portugal, in his efforts to placate Napoleon, had gone so far as to declare his adherence to the Continental System, and to order the arrest of all British subjects in his realm. A British squadron, commanded by Admiral Sir Sidney Smith, was sent to the Tagus with orders to establish a blockade if Portugal should persist in her hostile attitude. On 17th November the British Ambassador, Lord Strangford, took refuge in the British Fleet. After discussing the situation with him, Sir Sidney wrote to the Portuguese Minister for War, Monsieur d’Aranjo, on 22nd November, renewing a suggestion, which had been rejected in the previous year, that the Prince Regent should retire to Brazil with his fleet and the members of his government. He assured him that His Majesty’s Government would overlook any acts of apparent hostility, and he guaranteed to establish him in his possessions in America. The bearer of this letter, Captain Yeo of H.M.S. Confiance, was instructed to suggest also that Lord Strangford should land again and confer with the Prince Regent.
A favourable answer was received, and Lord Strangford returned to Lisbon on the 27th. On the 29th the Portuguese Fleet came out, bearing the Prince Regent, his chief ministers, his treasure and his archives of state. He entrusted himself to the protection of Sir Sidney’s squadron. His fleet consisted of eight sail of the line, four frigates, three brigs, a schooner and a number of merchant vessels — about thirty-six sail in all. They left the Tagus, escorted by the British ships, as Junot’s troops entered the suburbs of Lisbon.
To make his Continental System effective, and to dominate the Mediterranean, Napoleon wanted not only Portugal but Spain as well. Under the pretence of sending reinforcements to Junot, he treacherously seized the strongest fortresses of his ally. The Spanish court panicked, but the Asturian Parliament and the Junta of Seville declared war on the invaders. The people rose and forced a French army of 18,000 men to surrender at Baylen.
Lord Castlereagh was now at the War Office. He promoted Wellington, sent him to Portugal where he defeated Juno at Vimiero — and the long drawn-out Peninsula War had started that slowly drained away the strength of Imperial France. Poor Joseph Bonaparte was brought in to replay his part of well-meaning ineffectual king, Marshal Masséna was there again to do the sterner work for him, while General Sir John Moore was sent to co-operate with the Spanish Nationalists.
To Napoleon’s Continental System Britain opposed the Orders in Council, declaring all European ports from which British ships were excluded to be under blockade. Both systems imposed great hardships on the countries concerned by the stagnation of their trade, but because they were aware in Europe that Britain was fighting for the independence of all, the Orders in Council caused less resentment.
Negotiations continued between the two emperors about the grand project for the joint invasion of India and the partition of Turkey, but little progress was made. Napoleon was heavily engaged in Spain, and neither emperor would agree to the other possessing Constantinople and the Dardanelles. The Czar began to feel that he had been tricked and that he was losing face with his ministers to whom only the prospect of gains in the East had reconciled to the loss of trade with Britain. At last he decided that observance of the Continental System imposed an intolerable and unnecessary hardship. In 1811 he threw open his ports, and British goods began to pour into Central Europe.
To close the breach, Napoleon assembled a vast army for the invasion of Russia, at the same time as a renewal of his great project for conquering the East which had foundered at Acre. When he was about to cross the River Nieman with his army he suddenly exclaimed to one of his aides-de-camp, Monsieur de Narbonne, as if under the inspiration of a vision: ‘After all, this long journey is the way to India. Alexander had to take as long a march as this from Moscow to India in order to gain the Ganges. I have always said so myself since the siege of Acre. Without the English filibuster and the French emigrant who directed the Turkish artillery, and who, with the plague, made me raise the siege, I would have conquered half Asia, and come back upon Europe to seek the thrones of France and Italy...I have all the maps and statistics of population for a march from Erivan and Tiflis to India.’
Two years later he was driving through Provence on his way to exile in the Mediterranean island of Elba, weeping in his coach, disguised in the uniform of an Austrian officer, and then in the uniform of a British officer, because he feared the enmity of the people which increased in violence as he travelled southwards. On 24th April, 1814, two British frigates, the Undaunted and the Eurylayus, patrolling off Marseilles, noticed a brilliant light in the town as if it were illuminated for some important event. They entered the harbour to investigate. Next morning the two captains went ashore and were welcomed with wild rejoicing by a crowd at the landing stage. They were carried shoulder high to the town hall amid cries of ‘Vive les Anglais!’
Here they were met by the British Commissioner, Colonel Sir Neil Campbell, who instructed Captain Ussher of the Undaunted, on the authority of Lord Castlereagh, to convey Napoleon from St. Tropaze to the Island of Elba because he was unwilling to trust himself to the French corvette that had been provided. He had always a great fear of assassination, and he felt that only under British protection his life would be safe.
At St. Tropaze Captain Ussher was informed that, as a further precaution, the place of embarkation had been changed to Fréjus, where Napoleon had landed on his return from Egypt. At a small hotel in Fréjus, Le Chapeau Rouge, he was presented to the Emperor, who was now in the uniform of the Old Guard and wearing the star of the Legion of Honour.
At 9 p.m. on 28th April the Emperor’s coach drove down on to the beach at St. Raphael, three quarters of a mile from Fréjus, followed by several other coaches in which were the envoys of the various nations. It was brilliant moonlight. A guard of Hungarian cavalry had been drawn up in the form of a hollow square. Drums beat. Trumpets sounded. The frigate Undaunted lay close in with her topsails hoisted, lying to.
The Emperor alighted, spoke affably to the officers surrounding him, and asked that the lieutenant commanding the barge that was to take him out to the ship should be presented to him. Captain Ussher did so: his name was Lieutenant Smith, nephew of Sir Sidney. He had served at Acre in The Tigre and he had later been imprisoned in the Temple with Captain Wright. Upon learning his identity the Emperor’s face darkened. Lieutenant Smith handed him into the barge. He remained silent during the whole of the passage off to the Undaunted.
Chapter Twenty – Crusade in Vienna
On his way to exile in Elba, Napoleon enquired which admiral was in command of the British naval forces in that area. Colonel Campbell replied that he thought it was Sir Sidney Smith. ‘Imagine that!’ he exclaimed to General Bertrand, ‘Sidney Smith Commander-in-Chief, Mediterranean!’
This information was not quite correct. He was actually second-in-command at the time. After removing the Portuguese fleet and government from Lisbon to the safety of the Brazils, for which the Lords of the Admiralty expressed their high approbation of his ‘judicious and able conduct’, he had been appointed Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty’s Naval Forces on the South American Station. In that capacity he sent the Confiance, Captain Yeo, ‘to gain information about any proceedings of the French, either by sea or by land, and to act against them’. Captain Yeo, with the assistance of a Portuguese force, attacked and captured the Island of Cayenne, and hauled down the last tricolour flag in the New World.
His South American appointment ended under a cloud because of the complaints of the British Ambassador, Lord Strangford, that he was pursuing a divergent line of policy: Lord Strangford seems to have been at a disadvantage because he didn’t speak Portuguese, whereas Sir Sidney did and was, besides, on terms of familiarity with the Prince Regent. Both were recalled. When they were in London Mr. Canning, Foreign Secretary, acknowledged that Sir Sidney had had secret instruc
tions which he had been instructed not to show to the ambassador. ‘I acquit you most completely,’ he wrote, ‘of the specific charge of “having arrogated to yourself an authority not derived from any instructions”.’
Mr. Canning had been unaware of the secret instructions, and had advised his recall on the mistaken impression that he had received from the ambassador’s letters. Still, the harm had been done, and he had little prospect of further employment. He remained in England enjoying his immense popularity with the public, and not too concerned about his immense unpopularity with established authority.
He made a sort of triumphal progress through the country, receiving the Freedom of Plymouth, the thanks of the London Merchants Trading with the Brazils, civic receptions in Manchester and Liverpool, and the Freedom of Edinburgh. Oxford University conferred on him the honorary degree of Doctor of Civil Law, and Cambridge that of Master of Arts.
On his return from Egypt, eight years earlier, he had stayed for a while with his old comrade in arms, Sir John Douglas, at Blackheath where he was a neighbour of the Princess of Wales who was living alone, deserted by her husband. He had enjoyed her friendship, and when, in 1806, a commission was appointed to enquire into her behaviour he was accused, with others, of having carried on too intimate a relationship. All that could be established was that he had visited her frequently at unusual hours, and that he had sat beside her, perhaps too closely beside her, on a sofa. In a long letter to the king, her father-in-law, the lady protested that the friendship was entirely innocent, but her explanation was suspiciously like Desdemona’s — that it was the recital of his sufferings and perils by sea and land, the strange story of his life, the moving accidents, the battles, sieges, fortunes — that had aroused her sympathy. He was not called upon to testify, being absent on duty during the proceedings. The princess was cleared, but Sir Sidney forfeited the support and patronage of the royal family.
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