The loss of Denmark’s friendship may possibly have been balanced in the eyes of Mr. Canning by the possession of her fleet, but to the Postmaster General and the other officials at Lombard Street, who were responsible for the maintenance of Postal communications it was a very grievous disaster. The device of sending letters under cover to Altona, involving as it did much inconvenience and delay even if the letters were as safe as Mr. Nicholas believed, had been resorted to with much grumbling on the part of the merchants, who only discovered its value when it had become impossible. Gothenburg was now the only port in Northern Europe available for the Packets. The station was inconvenient; the passage was long and stormy. The Swedish Post-Office in Hamburg had been closed for some months, and it was consequently by no means clear that there was any great advantage in sending the mails out of England at all. A certain number were doubtless forwarded from Gothenburg by various secret and irregular routes, but it was indeed a desperate crisis which made it necessary to entrust valuable letters or remittances, on which the credit of a substantial merchant might rest, to smugglers and the other wild and lawless characters who would alone venture to incur the risks inseparable from the undertaking.
The situation was intolerable. The merchants were clamorous for some assistance, and it was only too evident that unless the trade of the country were to perish, and with it our supremacy, an expedient must be quickly found. At this juncture the capture of Heligoland provided a base from which efforts might be made to reach Hamburg with some chance of success.
No exposition is needed to show how great the value of Heligoland was to this country. The island lies but a few hours’ sail from the mouths of the Elbe, the Weser, and the Ems. British goods might be landed there with perfect confidence, for little need be feared from any naval attack, and could lie there unmolested until the fishermen of the island, or of the Hanover and Holstein coasts, smuggled them into Bremen or Hamburg. A very valuable trade of this description soon sprang up, for the profits were great enough to gild the risks. The goods were, of course, contraband in Hamburg, but the exacting requisitions of clothing for Napoleon’s army made it necessary for the citizens to chance the penalty, and to trade with the smugglers at any hazard for Yorkshire cloth.
Heligoland was captured on September 4th, 1807, and whilst the Government were still debating about the best means of making use of it, news was arriving from the opposite corner of Europe which made the new acquisition seem more and more valuable, for the French designs on Portugal were becoming manifest. The Prince Regent’s friendship for us was receiving shock after shock from Napoleon’s menaces, and it was obvious that the time was at hand when the cordon which had blocked against our shipping every harbour from the Baltic to Dalmatia, except Gibraltar and the coasts of Portugal, would be drawn across the entrance of the Tagus also.
Napoleon demanded three things of the Prince Regent. Two of these demands, of which the whole number were levelled against England, the Prince had courage to refuse, namely, the detention of all Englishmen then in Portugal, and the confiscation of their property. The third demand, which was also the most important of the three, he at last conceded, with a kind of weak belief that he would thereby, while sacrificing the neutrality of his country, promote a general peace; and accordingly, on October 27th, Mr. Chamberlain, the Post-Office agent at Lisbon, transmitted to his Department a copy of a proclamation issued on the 22nd, which announced that the harbours of Portugal were henceforth closed to British vessels, whether of war or commerce.
“Some private information I have just received,” wrote the agent, in commenting on this proclamation, “leads me to apprehend that this government may seize the English who remain here—and certainly they have had strong and sufficient warning to withdraw—in order thereby to appease the wrath of Bonaparte.” And he went on to lament that the moment had been let slip for supporting the Prince Regent with a British fleet. “Every preparation is made to oppose the entry of a fleet, and I much fear that it will now be impossible for any but a very immense force to attempt the Tagus. I have long dreaded this, for I have been aware of the system that was being carried out, and it grieves me beyond expression to see the moment rapidly approaching when the navy and all the Brazilmen, which are just so many men-of-war, the finest vessels in the world for carrying troops, fall into the hands of Bonaparte. There is perhaps yet time to prevent this evil, but it is barely possible....”
On the following day he wrote again. “We are in hourly expectation of a proclamation ordering his Majesty’s subjects to quit the kingdom. Our stay must be short.” It was, indeed, a hazardous position. Junot at the head of his army was pushing rapidly through Spain. The Portuguese Cabinet saw no safety save in acts of hostility towards the English. The crime of Helvoetsluis stood on record as a warning of what might be expected when the French arrived, and the British residents on the Tagus poured out of the country day by day. Mr. Chamberlain’s duty was to maintain the Postal Service until the very last moment; no order for arresting the English had yet appeared, but it was expected hourly, and the agent, who could not hope to be exempted from its scope, took the precaution of chartering a small armed schooner which was to lie off the coast in readiness for sailing night or day.
The crisis came on November 11th. All Englishmen, save the Ambassador and his staff, were to be arrested. Mr. Chamberlain concealed about his person a number of despatches for the Foreign Secretary, and, escaping from his lodging, made his way to the coast. To his dismay his schooner was nowhere to be found. A violent storm had blown her out to sea. He hired a boat, and made efforts to reach some of the British vessels in the offing, but the sea ran so high that he was obliged to put back three times, and at last the sailors declined to go out again. Mr. Chamberlain therefore started off on foot, and after a perilous journey reached Cascaes, where, by good luck, he found the “Walsingham,” a Falmouth Packet, which, on attempting to enter the Tagus as usual on the previous day, had been fired on from the batteries, and was now standing on and off the coast in the hope of ascertaining the precise situation of affairs. Mr. Chamberlain’s arrival settled any doubt as to the hostility of the Portuguese, and the “Walsingham” at once set sail for Falmouth.
The only hope of the Post-Office now lay in schemes of smuggling, conducted from Heligoland. Suggestions were pouring in upon them. Plans more or less impracticable emanated from every crazy enthusiast in London, and the general public demonstrated no less clearly than in our own times its conviction that it was qualified to instruct the experts.
There were anxious consultations at the Foreign Office between Mr. Canning, Mr. Freeling, and Mr. Thornton, who was fortunately at hand to give the benefit of his unrivalled local knowledge and of that sagacity which had extorted the admiration of Bourrienne.