Invasion Squibs continued—“The Freeman’s Oath”—“John
Bull and Bonaparte”—“The Eve of Invasion”—“A Biography
of Napoleon”—“Britons, strike home”—Enrolment of 400,000
Volunteers—Napoleon at Calais—Apprehension of vagrants, and
compulsorily recruiting the Army and Navy with them—Patriotism of
the nation—Preparations in case of reverse—Beacons—Spies—The
French prisoners—Emmett’s rebellion in Ireland—Its prompt
suppression—General Fast—Relief of the Roman Catholics.
SEE yet another:
“The Consequences of Buonaparte’s succeeding in his designs against
this Country:—Universal Pillage, Men of all parties slaughtered, Women
of all Ranks violated, Children Murdered, Trade Ruined, the Labouring
Classes thrown out of Employment, Famine with all its Horrors,
Despotism Triumphant. The remaining Inhabitants Carried away by Ship
Loads to Foreign Lands. _Britons look before you._”
There were sham playbills such as—“THEATRE ROYAL, ENGLAND. In
Rehearsal, and meant to be speedily attempted, A FARCE in one Act,
called THE INVASION OF ENGLAND. Principal Buffo, Mr. BUONAPARTE; being
his FIRST (and most likely his last) Appearance on the Stage,” &c.
“In Rehearsal, THEATRE ROYAL OF THE UNITED KINGDOMS. Some dark, foggy
night, about November next, will be ATTEMPTED, by a Strolling Company
of French Vagrants, an Old Pantomimic Farce, called HARLEQUIN’S
INVASION, or the DISAPPOINTED BANDITTI,” &c. “THEATRE ROYAL, THE
OCEAN. In preparation, A _magnificent_ NAVAL _and_ MILITARY SPECTACLE,
superior to anything of the kind ever witnessed; consisting of an
immense display of Flat-bottomed Boats Burning, Sinking, &c., to be
called BUONAPARTE; or The FREE-BOOTER running away; the Triumph of the
British Flag,” &c.
[Illustration: THE FREEMAN’S OATH.]
“THE FREEMAN’S OATH.
“Our bosoms we’ll bare for the glorious strife,
And our oath is recorded on high;
To prevail in the cause that is dearer than life,
Or, crush’d in its ruins, to die.
Then rise, fellow freemen, and stretch the right hand,
And swear to prevail in your dear native land.
’Tis the home we hold sacred is laid to our trust,
God bless the green isle of the brave,
Should a conqueror tread on our forefathers’ dust,
It would rouse the old dead from their grave.
Then rise, fellow freemen, and stretch the right hand,
And swear to prevail in your dear native land.
In a Briton’s sweet home shall the spoiler abide,
Prophaning its loves and its charms?
Shall a Frenchman insult the lov’d fair at our side?
To arms! Oh, my country, to arms!
Then rise, fellow freemen, and stretch the right hand,
And swear to prevail in your dear native land.
Shall Tyrants enslave us, my Countrymen? No!
Their heads to the sword shall be given:
Let a deathbed repentance be taught the proud foe,
And his blood be an offering to Heaven.
Then rise, fellow freemen, and stretch the right hand,
And swear to prevail in your dear native land.”
Turning from the sublimity of this patriotic effusion, we shall find a
change in “JOHN BULL and BONAPARTE!! to the tune of the BLUE BELLS OF
SCOTLAND:”
“When and O when does this little Boney come?
Perhaps he’ll come in August! perhaps he’ll stay at home;
But it’s O in my heart, how I’ll hide him should he come.
Where and O where does this little Boney dwell?
His birth place is in Corsica—but France he likes so well,
That it’s O the poor French, how they crouch beneath his spell.
What cloathes and what cloathes does this little Boney wear?
He wears a large cock’d hat for to make the people stare;
But it’s O my oak stick! I’d advise him to take care!
What shall be done, should this little Boney die?
Nine cats shall squall his dirge, in sweet melodious cry,
And it’s O in my heart, if a tear shall dim my eye!
Yet still he boldly brags, with consequence full cramm’d
On England’s happy island, his legions he will land;
But it’s O in my heart, if he does may I be d————d.”
I will give but one more example, not that the stock is exhausted by
some hundreds, but that I fear to be wearisome, and this one shows
that if occasionally the matter of invasion was treated with a light
heart, there were many, nay, the large majority, who looked upon its
possibility _au grand serieux_.
“THE EVE OF INVASION.
“The hour of battle now draws nigh,
We swear to conquer, or to die;
Haste quick away, thou slow pac’d Night,
To-morrow’s dawn begins the fight.
CHORUS.
Brothers, draw th’ avenging sword,
Death or Freedom be the word.
A SOLDIER.
Did ye not leave, when forc’d to part,
Some treasure precious to the heart?
And feel ye not your bosoms swell,
Whene’er ye think of that farewell?
_Chorus._
ANOTHER SOLDIER.
My Lucy said, no longer stay,
Thy country calls thee hence away,
Adieu! may angels round thee hover,
But no slave shall be my lover.
_Chorus._
ANOTHER.
My Grandsire cried, I cannot go,
But thou, my Son, shall meet the foe;
I need not say, dear Boy, be brave,
No Briton sure would live a slave.
_Chorus._
ANOTHER.
My Wife, whose glowing looks exprest,
What patriot ardour warm’d her breast,
Said, ‘In the Battle think of me;
These helpless Babes, they shall be free.’
_Chorus._
ALL.
Shades of Heroes gone, inspire us,
Children, Wives, and Country fire us.
Freedom loves this hallow’d ground—
Hark! Freedom bids the trumpet sound.
CHORUS.
Brothers, draw th’ avenging sword,
Death or Freedom be the word.”
If the foregoing examples of the Patriotic Handbills of 1803 are not
choice specimens of refined literature, they are at least fairly
representative. I have omitted all the vilification of Napoleon, which
permeates all the series in a greater or less degree, because I have
already given it in another work. It was gravely stated that his great
grandfather was the keeper of a wine-shop, who, being convicted of
robbery and murder, was condemned to the galleys, where he died in
1724. His wife, Napoleon’s great grandmother, was said to have died in
the House of Correction at Genoa. “His grandfather was a butcher of
Ajaccio, and his grandmother daughter of a journeyman tanner at Bastia.
His father was a low pettyfogging lawyer, who served and betrayed
his country by turns, during the Civil Wars. After France conquered
Corsica, he was a spy to the French Government, and his mother their
trull.” General Marbœuf was said to have been Napoleon’s father. He
was accused of seducing his sisters, and his brothers were supposed to
be a very bad lot. He massacred the people at Alexandria and Jaffa,
besides poisoning his own sick soldiers there. There was nothing bad
enough for the _Corsican Ogre_; they even found that he was the real,
original, and veritable Apocalyptic BEAST, whose number is 666. It is
but fair to say that the majority of these accusations came originally
from French sources, but they were eagerly adopted here; and, although
they might be, and probably were, taken at their proper valuation by
the educated classes, there is no doubt but the lower classes regarded
him as a ruffianly murderer. “Boney will come to you,” was quite enough
to quiet and overawe any refractory youngster, who, however, must have
had some consolation, and satisfaction, in crunching, in sweetstuff,
_Bonaparte’s Ribs_. It was all very well to sing—
“Come, BONAPARTE, if you dare;
John Bull invites you; bring your Host,
Your slaves with Free men to compare;
Your Frogs shall croak along the Coast.
When slain, thou vilest of thy Tribe,
Wrapped in a sack your Bones shall be,
That the Elements may ne’er imbibe
The venom of a Toad like thee”—
but there was the flat-bottomed Flotilla, on the opposite shore,
which we were unable to destroy, or even to appreciably damage, and
the “Army of England,” inactive certainly, was still there, and a
standing menace. The Volunteers were fêted, and praised to the top of
their bent. An old air of Henry Purcell’s (1695), which accompanied
some words interpolated in Beaumont and Fletcher’s play of “Bonduca”
or “Boadicæa,” became extremely popular; and the chorus, “Britons,
strike home,” was married to several sets of words, and duly shouted
by loyal Volunteers. The Pictorial Satirist delineates the Volunteer
as performing fabulous deeds of daring. Gillray gives us his idea of
the fate of “Buonaparte forty-eight hours after Landing!” where a burly
rustic Volunteer holds the bleeding head of Napoleon upon a pitchfork,
to the delight of his comrades, and he thus apostrophises the head:
“Ha, my little Boney! what do’st think of Johnny Bull, now? Plunder
Old England! hay? make French slaves of us all! hay? ravish all our
Wives and Daughters! hay? O Lord, help that silly Head! To think that
Johnny Bull would ever suffer those lanthorn Jaws to become King of Old
England Roast Beef and Plum Pudding!”
Ansell, too, treats Bonaparte’s probable fate, should he land, in a
somewhat similar manner. His etching is called “After the Invasion. The
Levée en Masse, or, Britons, strike home.” The French have landed, but
have been thoroughly routed, of course, by a mere handful of English,
who drive them into the sea. Our women plunder the French dead, but
are disgusted with their meagre booty—garlic, onions, and pill-boxes.
A rural Volunteer is, of course, the hero of the day, and raises
Napoleon’s head aloft on a pitchfork, whilst he thus addresses two of
his comrades. “Here he is exalted, my Lads, 24 Hours after Landing.”
One of his comrades says, “Why, Harkee, d’ye zee, I never liked
soldiering afore, but, somehow or other, when I thought of our Sal, the
bearns, the poor Cows, and the Geese, why I could have killed the whole
Army, my own self.” The other rustic remarks, “Dang my Buttons if that
beant the head of that Rogue Boney. I told our Squire this morning,
‘What! do you think,’ says I, ‘the lads of our Village can’t cut up a
Regiment of them French Mounseers? and as soon as the lasses had given
us a kiss for good luck, I could have sworn we should do it, and so we
have.”
Well! it is hard to look at these things in cold blood, at a great
distance of time, and without a shadow of a shade of the fear of
invasion before our eyes, so we ought to be mercifully critical of the
bombast of our forefathers. It certainly has done us no harm, and if it
kept up and nourished the flame of patriotism within their breasts, we
are the gainers thereby, as there is no doubt but that the bold front
shown by the English people, and the unwearying vigilance of our fleet,
saved England from an attempted, if not successful, invasion. Upwards
of 400,000 men voluntarily rising up in arms to defend their country,
must have astonished not only Bonaparte, but all Europe; and by being
spontaneous, it prevented any forced measures, such as a _levée en
masse_. The Prince of Wales, in vain, applied for active service;
but, it is needless to say, it was refused, not to the colonel of
the regiment, but to the heir to the throne. The refusal was tempered
by the intimation that, should the enemy effect a landing, the Prince
should have an opportunity of showing his courage, a quality which has
always been conspicuous in our Royal Family.
But before we leave the subject of the threatened Invasion, it would
be as well to read some jottings respecting it, which have no regular
sequence, and yet should on no account be missed, as they give us, most
vividly, the state of the public mind thereon.
Napoleon was at Boulogne, at the latter end of June, making a tour of
the ports likely to be attacked by the British, and, as an example
of how well his movements were known, see the following cutting from
the _Times_ of 4th of July: “The Chief Consul reached Calais at five
o’clock on Friday afternoon (the 1st of July). His entry, as might be
expected, was in a grand style of parade: he rode on a small iron grey
horse of great beauty. He was preceded by about three hundred Infantry,
and about thirty Mamelukes formed a kind of semicircle about him....
In a short time after his arrival he dined at _Quillac & Co’s._ (late
_Dessin’s_) hotel. The time he allowed himself at dinner was shorter
than usual; he did not exceed ten minutes or a quarter of an hour.
Immediately after dinner he went, attended by M. Francy, Commissary of
Marine, Mengaud, Commissary of Police, and other municipal officers,
through the Calais gates, to visit the different batteries erected
there. As soon as he and his attendants had passed through the gates,
he ordered them to be shut, to prevent their being incommoded by the
populace. The execution of this order very much damped the ardour of
the Corsican’s admirers, who remained entirely silent, although the
moment before, the whole place resounded with _Vive Buonaparte!_ The
same evening the General went on board the _Josephine_ packet, Captain
Lambert, and, after examining everything there minutely, he took a
short trip upon the water in a boat as far as the pier-head to the
Battery at the entrance of the harbour, where he himself fired one of
the guns; afterwards, he visited all the different Forts, and at night
slept at Quillac’s Hotel.”
They had a rough-and-ready method, in those days, of recruiting for
the services, apprehending all vagrants, and men who could not give
a satisfactory account of themselves, and giving them the option of
serving His Majesty or going to prison. There is a curious instance
of this in the following police report, containing as it does an
amusing anecdote of “diamond cut diamond.” _Times_, the 7th July, 1803:
“PUBLIC OFFICE, BOW STREET. Yesterday upwards of forty persons were
taken into custody, under authority of privy search warrants, at two
houses of ill fame; the one in Tottenham Court Road, and the other
near Leicester Square. They were brought before N. Bond, Esq., and Sir
W. Parsons, for examination; when several of them, not being able to
give a satisfactory account of themselves, and being able-bodied men,
were sent on board a tender lying off the Tower. Two very notorious
fellows among them were arrested in the office for pretended debts,
as it appeared, for the purpose of preventing their being sent to
sea, the writs having been just taken out, at the suit of persons as
notorious as themselves. The magistrates, however, could not prevent
the execution of the civil process, as there was no criminal charge
against them, which would justify their commitment.” Take also a short
paragraph in the next day’s _Times_: “Several young men, brought before
the Lord Mayor yesterday, charged with petty offences, were sent on
board the tender.”
But, perhaps, this was the best use to put them to, as idle hands
were not wanted at such a juncture. Men came forward in crowds as
volunteers. Lloyd’s, and the City generally, subscribed most liberally
to the Patriotic Fund, and even in minor things, such as transport, the
large carriers came forward well—as, for instance, the well-known
firm of Pickford and Co. offered for the service of the Government,
four hundred horses, fifty waggons, and twenty-eight boats.[19] County
meetings were held all over England to organize defence, and to find
means of transport for cannon, men, and ammunition in case of invasion.
The people came forward nobly; as the _Times_ remarked in a leader (6th
of August, 1803): “ELEVEN WEEKS are barely passed since the Declaration
of War, and we defy any man living, to mention a period when _half so
much_ was ever effected, in the same space of time, for the defence
of the country. 1st. A naval force such as Great Britain never had
before, has been completely equipped, manned, and in readiness to meet
the enemy. 2nd. The regular military force of the kingdom has been
put on the most respectable footing. 3rd. The militia has been called
forth, and _encamped_ with the regular forces. 4th. The supplementary
militia has also been embodied, and even encamped. 5th. An army of
reserve of 50,000 men has been already added to this force, and is now
in great forwardness. 6th. A measure has been adopted for calling out
and arming the whole mass of the people, in case of emergency; and
we are confident that our information is correct, when we say, that
at _this moment_ there are nearly 300,000 men enrolled in different
Volunteer, Yeomanry, and Cavalry Corps, of whom at least a _third_ may
be considered as already disciplined, and accoutred.”
But, naturally, and sensibly, the feeling obtained of what might
occur in case the French did actually land, and, among other matters,
the safety of the King and the Royal Family was not forgotten. It
was settled that the King should not go far, at least at first, from
London, and both Chelmsford, and Dartford, as emergency might direct,
were settled on as places of refuge for His Majesty: the Queen, the
Royal Family, and the treasure were to go to Worcester the faithful,
_Civitas in bello, et in pace fidelis_. The artillery and stores at
Woolwich were to be sent into the Midland districts by means of the
Grand Junction Canal. Beacons were to be affixed to some of the seaside
churches, such as Lowestoft and Woodbridge, and these were of very
simple construction—only a tar barrel!
But, by and by, a better, and more organized, system of communication
by beacon was adopted, and the beacons themselves were more calculated
to effect their object. They were to be made of a large stack, or pile,
of furze, or faggots, with some cord-wood—in all, at least, eight
waggon loads, with three or four tar barrels, sufficient to yield a
light unmistakable at a distance of two or three miles. These were to
be used by night; by day, a large quantity of straw was to be wetted,
in order to produce a smoke.
When the orders for these first came out, invasion was only expected
on the Kent and Sussex coasts, and the beacon stations were
proportionately few; afterwards, they became general throughout the
country. The first lot (17th of November) were
1. Shorncliffe. 5. Egerton.
1. Canterbury. 5. Tenderden.
2. Barham. 6. Coxheath.
2. Shollenden. 6. Highgate near Hawkehurst.
2. Lynne Heights. 7. Boxley Hill.
3. Isle of Thanet. 7. Goodhurst.
3. Postling Down. 8. Chatham Lines.
4. Charlmagna. 8. Wrotham Hill.
_N.B._ Stations marked with the same figures, communicate directly
with each other.
Of course, naturally, there was the Spy craze, and it sometimes led
to mistakes, as the following will show: _Times_, the 29th of August,
“A respectable person in town a short time ago, went on a party of
pleasure to the Isle of Wight, and, being anxious to see all the
beauties of the place, he rose early one day to indulge himself with
a long morning’s walk. In his way he took a great pleasure in viewing
with his glass, the vessels at sea. In the midst of his observations
he was interrupted by an officer, who, after a few questions, took
him into custody upon suspicion of being a spy. After a proper
investigation of his character, he was liberated.”
In more than one case, however, the charge of _espionage_ seems to have
rested on a far more solid basis; but, of course, the “Intelligence
Department” of every nation will have its agents, in the enemy’s camp,
if possible. Two persons, one named Nield, the other Garrick (nephew
to the famous actor), were actually arrested as being Bonaparte! I do
not know how Mr. Nield fared, but Mr. Garrick was enabled to prosecute
his journey under the protection of the following certificate from the
Mayor of Haverfordwest:
“This is to certify whom it may concern, that the bearer, Mr. George
Garrick, is known to me; who is on a tour through the country, and
intends returning to England, by the way of Tenby.
“RICHARD LLOYD, _Mayor_.”
We cannot wonder at the rumour of spies being in their midst, when
we think of the number of French prisoners of war there were in our
keeping, one prison alone (Mill Prison, Plymouth) having 2,500.
Many were out on parole, which I regret to say all did not respect,
many broke prison and got away; in fact, they did not know where to put
them, nor what to do with them, so that it was once seriously proposed
that, in an hour of danger, should such ever arrive, they should be
shut up in the numerous spent mines throughout England. When on parole,
the following were the regulations—they were allowed to walk on the
turnpike road within the distance of one mile from the extremity of
the town in which they resided, but they must not go into any field or
cross road, nor be absent from their lodgings after five o’clock in
the afternoon, during the months of November, December, and January;
after seven o’clock in the months of February, March, April, August,
September, and October; or, after eight o’clock in the months of May,
June, and July; nor quit their lodgings in the morning until the bell
rang at six o’clock.
If they did not keep to these regulations, they were liable to be taken
up and sent to prison, a reward of one guinea being offered for their
recapture. Should they not behave peaceably, they would also have to
return to durance.
There were also very many refugees here who were not prisoners of war,
and, in order to keep them under supervision, a Royal Proclamation was
issued on the 12th of October, citing an Act passed the last session of
Parliament, respecting the Registration of Aliens, and proclaiming that
all aliens must, within eighteen days from date, register themselves
and their place of abode—if in London, before the Lord Mayor, or some
magistrate at one of the police offices; if in any other part of Great
Britain, before some neighbouring magistrate.
However, enemies nearer home were plaguing John Bull. “Mannikin
Traitors” verily, but still annoying. Then, as now, England’s
difficulty was Ireland’s opportunity; and of course, the chance was
too tempting to be resisted. The Union (curious phrase!) was but in
the third year of its existence, and Ireland was once more in open
rebellion. Chief of the spurious patriots was one Robert Emmett, whose
picture in green and gold uniform coat, white tights and Hessian boots,
waving an immense sword, appears periodically, in some shop windows,
whenever Irish sedition is peculiarly rampant, only to disappear when
the inevitable petty rogue, the approver, has done his work, and the
windbag plot is pricked.
Emmett was the son of one of the State physicians in Dublin, and
brother to that Thomas Eddis Emmett, who was prominent in the
rebellion of 1798. Robert had so compromised himself, by his speech and
behaviour, that he deemed it wise to live abroad during the suspension
of the Habeas Corpus Act, but he returned when his father died, having
become possessed of about £2,000, which he must needs spend, in
“regenerating” Ireland.
Silly boy! (he was only twenty-four) with such a sum, and about one
hundred followers, he thought it could be done. His crazy brain
imagined his down-trodden compatriots hastening to his side, to fight
for the deliverance of their beloved country from the yoke of the
hated Saxon despot. There were meetings _sub rosâ_—assemblages on the
quiet—as there always will be in Ireland when the pot is seething; and
at last the curtain was to be drawn up, for the playing of this farce,
on the 23rd of July, when towards evening, large bodies of men began
to assemble in some of the streets of Dublin—but vaguely, and without
leaders.
At last a small cannon was fired, and a single rocket went upwards to
the sky; and the deliverer, Emmett, sallied out, waving that big sword.
A shot from a blunderbuss killed Colonel Browne; and the Lord Chief
Justice of Ireland, Lord Kilwarden, and his nephew, Rev. Richard Wolfe,
were dragged from their carriage, and brutally murdered.
A little more bluster, and then, some three hours after its rising,
this scum was put down by about one hundred and twenty soldiers. The
ringleaders were caught and executed. Emmett, tried on the 19th of
September, was hanged next day.
To show how slowly news travelled in those days, the _Times_ has no
notice of this riot on the 23rd till the 28th of July, and then not
a full account. The Government, however, seems to have estimated the
situation quite at its full gravity, for there was a message from the
King to his faithful Parliament on the subject; the Habeas Corpus Act
was once more suspended, and martial law proclaimed.
On the 19th of October the religious panacea of a general fast was
tried, and “was observed with the utmost decorum” in the Metropolis.
The Volunteers, especially, won the encomia of the _Times_ for their
goodness in going to church, and the _Annual Register_ also warms up
into unusual fervour on the occasion: “Such a number of corps attended
this day, that it is impossible to enumerate them. Every principal
church was crowded with the ardent patriots who fill the voluntary
associations; and there can be no doubt that, in the present temper of
the people of this country, not only every other great city and town,
but even the smallest village or hamlet throughout the island, evinced
a proportionate degree of fervour and animation in the holy cause. The
corps who had not before taken the oath of allegiance, did so this day,
either on their drill grounds, or in their respective churches.”
Of the latter part of the year, other than the Invasion Scare, there
is little to say. Among the Acts passed this year, however, was one of
hopeful import, as showing a glimmer of a better time to come in the
era of religious toleration. It was to relieve the Roman Catholics of
some pains and disabilities to which they were subject, on subscribing
the declaration and oath contained in the Act 31 George III.
Three per Cent. Consols opened this year at 69; dropped in July to 50,
and left off the 31st of December at 55.
Bread stuffs were cheaper, the average price of wheat being 77s. per
quarter, and the quartern loaf, 9d.
[Illustration]