On the 15th of July, the Épervier conveyed Bonaparte to the Bellerophon. The French craft was so small that, from the deck of the English ship, they did not see the giant on the waves. The Emperor, accosting Captain Maitland, said to him:
"I come to place myself under the protection of the laws of England"
Once at least the contemner of the laws confessed their authority.
The fleet set sail for Torbay: a multitude of shipping cruised around the Bellerophon; the same eagerness was shown at Plymouth. On the 30th of July, Lord Keith[365] handed the applicant the Act confining him at St. Helena.
"It is worse than Tamerlane's[366] cage," said Napoleon.
Ordered to St. Helena.
This violation of the Law of Nations and of the respect due to hospitality was revolting. If you see the light on board of any ship, provided it be under sail, you are English born; by virtue of the old London customs, the waves are considered soil of Albion. And an English ship was not an inviolable altar for a supplicant, it did not place the great man who embraced the poop of the Bellerophon under the protection of the British trident! Bonaparte protested; he argued about laws, talked of treachery and perfidy, appealed to the future: did that become him? Had he not laughed at justice? Had he not, in his might, trampled under foot the sacred things whose guarantee he now invoked? Had he not carried off Toussaint-Louverture[367] and the King of Spain[368]? Had he not had English travellers arrested who happened to be in France at the time of the rupture of the Peace of Amiens, and kept them prisoners for years? Allowable therefore to mercantile England to imitate what he had done himself, and to use ignoble reprisals; but they might have acted differently.
With Napoleon, the size of the heart did not correspond with the width of the head: his quarrels with the English are deplorable; they revolt Lord Byron. How could he condescend to honour his gaolers with a word? One suffers at seeing him stoop to wordy conflicts with Lord Keith at Torbay, with Sir Hudson Lowe[369] at St. Helena, publish statements because they break faith with him, cavil about a title, about a little more, or a little less, gold or honours. Bonaparte, reduced to himself, was reduced to his glory, and that ought to suffice him: he had nothing to ask of men; he did not treat adversity despotically enough; one would have pardoned him for making of misfortune his last slave. I find nothing remarkable in his protest against the violation of hospitality, save the date and signature of that protest:
"On board the Bellerophon, at sea.
"Napoleon."