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Updated: June 18, 2025
And then we entered Toulon harbour, where we saluted the flag of Admiral Hugon, commanding the squadron to which the Belle-Poule was about to be attached.
Commander Bouet, who had preceded me on the coast, had taken his gunboat up the river, and had earnestly pressed me to do the same thing with the Belle-Poule, so as to prove its navigability for the largest ships, which, once acknowledged, would stamp it as a first-class naval station.
The Prince of Joinville was adored by the nation, on account of his famous victory over the English fleet under the command of Admiral the Prince of Wales, whose ship, the "Richard Cobden," of 120 guns, was taken by the "Belle-Poule" frigate of 36; on which occasion forty-five other ships of war and 79 steam-frigates struck their colors to about one-fourth the number of the heroic French navy.
Our ambassador, the Duc de Montebello, who kept great state and the most open house at the Rothschild palace, introduced our officers into the most delightful society of Naples, and there was a succession of parties and merry-makings. By way of response, the admiral gave a very pretty afternoon party on board his three-decker, the Ocean, and I a ball on board the Belle-Poule.
So I had him set at liberty, and advised him to meditate on his second warning, and behave accordingly for the future. He lost no time in taking himself off, while the Belle-Poule cast anchor near the left bank of the river, before a town belonging to another native king known as Denis. This Denis was by no means an ordinary individual.
I went back to my duty in ours, which was still as active and incessantly drilled as ever. The English squadron, commanded by Sir Robert Stopford, a handsome white-haired old man, was less restless. But the fleets dispersed before long. Ours sailed for Smyrna, whence the Admiral sent the Belle-Poule under my command, and the Triton, Captain Hamelin, back to France.
There was Lacrosse, a Liberal turned Clerical, one of those Conservatives who push order as far as the embalming, and preservation as far as the mummy: later on a senator. There was Larabit, a friend of Lacrosse, as much a domestic and not less a senator. There was Canon Coquereau, the "Abbé of La Belle-Poule." The answer is known which he made to a princess who asked him, "What is the Elysée?"
The Belle-Poule put in at Teneriffe to take in provisions and water, and I took advantage of this stoppage to finish the ascent of the famous Peak which I had had to break off in 1837. The last cone, all of crumbly pumice stone, and at a very acute angle, is tolerably tiring.
Sometimes a rift was seen in the clouds in the distance, it would rapidly increase in size, taking a funnel shape, and then a tornado would burst, like a tempest in miniature, lasting only three or four hours, but of extraordinary violence. During one of these the Belle-Poule had to scud along under bare poles at the rate of twelve knots an hour.
General Middlemore, dropping with fatigue, formally handed over the body to me; and the coffin was lowered into the long-boat of the Belle-Poule, which then started for the ship. The scene at that moment was very fine. It was a striking moment A magnificent sunset had been succeeded by a twilight of the deepest calm.
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