CHAPTER XXXII.

INVASION SQUIBS, _continued_--‘BRITONS TO ARMS’--BRAGGADOCIO--NAPOLEON’S EPITAPH.

A most ghastly picture, which should not be called a caricature, yet is meant so to be, is by Gillray (July 26, 1803), and is called ‘Buonaparte forty-eight Hours after Landing!’ A crowd of rural volunteers are assembled, and one of them hoists the head of Napoleon upon a pitchfork, calling out ‘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.’ Whilst on the top of the engraving is inscribed, ‘This is to give information for the benefit of all Jacobin Adventurers, that Policies are now open’d at Lloyd’s--where the depositer of One Guinea is entitled to a Hundred if the Corsican Cut throat is alive 48 Hours after Landing on the British Coast.’

Ansell also takes up this gruesome subject (August 6, 1803) in ‘After the Invasion. The Levée en Masse, or Britons Strike Home.’ The French have landed, but have been thoroughly defeated; the British soldiers driving them bodily over the cliffs, into the sea. The women are plundering the dead, but complain bitterly of the poverty of their spoil. ‘Why, this is poor finding, I have emptied the pockets of a score and only found garlic, one head of an onion, and a parcel of pill boxes.’ A rural volunteer, who has Bonaparte’s head on a pitchfork, addresses two comrades thus: ‘Here he is exalted, my Lads, 24 Hours after Landing.’ Says one of the countrymen, ‘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 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.’

Of loyal and patriotic songs, there are enough and to spare, but one was very popular, and therefore should be reproduced:--

BRITONS TO ARMS!!!

Written by WM. THOS. FITZGERALD, Esqr., And Recited by him at the ANNUAL MEETING of the LITERARY FUND, at GREENWICH. 14 July, 1803.

Britons to Arms!--of apathy beware, And let your Country be your dearest care; Protect your Altars! guard your Monarch’s throne, The Cause of GEORGE and FREEDOM, make your own! What! shall that England want her Sons’ support, Whose Heroes fought at Cressy--Agincourt? And when great MARLBOROUGH led the English Van, In France, o’er Frenchmen triumphed to a man! By ALFRED’S great, and ever honoured, Name! By EDWARD’S prowess, and by HENRY’S fame! By all the generous Blood for Freedom shed, And by the Ashes of the Patriot Dead! By the bright Glory Britons lately won, On Egypt’s Plains, beneath the burning Sun! Britons to Arms! defend your Country’s Cause, Fight for your King! your Liberties; and Laws! Be France defied, her slavish yoke abhor’d, And place your safety only on your Sword. The Gallic Despot, sworn your mortal Foe, Now aims his last,--but his most deadly blow; With England’s Plunder tempts his hungry Slaves, And dares to brave you, on your Native Waves! If Briton’s right be worth a Briton’s care, To shield them from the Son of Rapine--swear! Then to Invasion be defiance giv’n-- Your Cause is just--approv’d by Earth and Heaven. Should adverse winds our gallant Fleet restrain, To sweep his ‘bawbling[83] vessels’ from the main; And Fate permit him on our Shores t’advance-- The Tyrant never shall return to France; Fortune, herself, shall be no more his friend, And _here_ the Hist’ry of his Crimes shall end-- His slaughter’d Legions shall manure our shore, And England never know Invasion more.

This was the stilted sort of stuff given to our forefathers, to inflame their patriotic zeal, and this example is of good quality compared to most. Here is another one, which I give, as having the music, published July 30, 1803:--

BRITONS TO ARMS!

Cheerly my hearts of cour - age true, The hour’s at hand to try your worth; a glo - rious pe - ril waits for you, And val - our pants to lead you forth. The Gal - lic fleet ap - - proaches nigh, boys, Now some must conquer, some must die, boys; But that ap - pals not you nor me, For our watchword, it shall be: Brit - ons strike home, re- venge your coun-try’s wrongs, Brit-ons strike home, re - venge your country’s wrongs. ]

2.

Undaunted Britons now shall prove The Frenchman’s folly to invade Our dearest rights, our country’s love, Our laws, our freedom, and our trade; On our white cliffs our colours fly, boys; Which we’ll defend, or bravely die, boys; For we are Britons bold and free, And our watchword it shall be Britons strike home, &c.

3.

The Tyrant Consul, then too late, Dismayed shall mourn th’ avenging blow Yet vanquish’d, meet the milder fate Which mercy grants a fallen foe: Thus shall the British banners fly, boys, On Albion’s cliffs still rais’d on high, boys, And while the gallant flag we see, We’ll swear our watchword still shall be Britons strike home, &c.

About the last caricature in this month was by I. Cruikshank, who depicted Napoleon (July 28, 1803) as ‘Preparing to invade.’ He is pouring himself out a bumper, and soliloquising, ‘I must take a little Dutch Courage, for I am sure I shall never attempt it in my sober senses! Besides, when John Bull catches me, I can plead it was only a Drunken Frolick! Diable! if I not go, den all my Soldiers call me one Braggadocio, and one Coward, and if I do, begor, dey vil shew me in the Tower, as one very Great Wild Beast.’

I. Cruikshank (July 28, 1803) tells us ‘How to stop an invader.’ Napoleon, and his army, are represented as having landed, and he is asking ‘Which is the way to London?’ A countryman replies, giving emphasis to his words by driving his pitchfork deeply into the Consul’s breast, ‘Why, thro’ my Body--but I’se be thro’ yourn virst.’ His wife, as a type of what was expected of the women of England, is emptying the offensive contents of a domestic utensil over him. Bulldogs are let loose, and are rapidly making an end of their enemies, in which laudable enterprise they are materially assisted by prize-fighters and carters.

The month of August was very fruitful in caricature, for in that month, and in September, the Invasion scare was at its height.

There was an immense amount of Gasconading and Braggadocio going about, as senseless as it was improbable. Take this for example: ‘The Consequence of Invasion, or the Hero’s Reward. None but the brave deserve the fair. The Yeomanry Cavalry’s first Essay’ (Ansell, August 1, 1803). A stout yeoman is swaggering about, with his sword drawn, and carrying a pole, on the top of which is Bonaparte’s head, and, lower down, he grasps some fifteen or twenty bleeding heads of decapitated Frenchmen. He is saying, ‘There, you Rogues, there! there’s the _Boney parts_ of them. Twenty more; Killed them!! Twenty more; Killed them too!! I have destroyed half the army with this same Toledo.’ Women from all parts are coming to hug and caress him, saying, ‘Bless the Warrior that saved our Virgin Charms.’ ‘Ah! bless him, he has saved us from Death and Vileation.’ ‘Take care, I’ll smother him with kisses.’ One lady says to a man, not a Volunteer: ‘There you Poltroon look how that Noble Hero’s caressed!’ whilst the poor wretch thus addressed exclaims, ‘Ods Niggins, I wish I had been a Soldier too, then the Girls would have run after me, but I never could bear the smell of Gunpowder.’

‘John Bull offering Little Boney fair play’ is the title of one of Gillray’s pictures (August 2, 1803), and depicts the fortified coasts on both sides of the Channel, with John Bull, as a Jack Tar, stripped to the waist for action. He wades half across to hurl defiance at his foe. ‘You’re a coming? You be d--d! If you mean to invade us, why make such a rout? I say little Boney, why don’t you come out? yes, d--n ye, why don’t ye come out?’ Meanwhile Boney, secure in his fortress, and with his flotilla safe on shore, looks over the parapet, and says, ‘I’m a coming! I’m a coming!!!’

His epitaph was even obligingly written for him during his lifetime, and here it is:--

EPITAPH

_Underneath a_ GIBBET, _over a_ DUNGHILL _near_ HASTINGS, _close by the_ SEA BEACH.

Underneath this Dunghill Is all that remains of a mighty Conqueror,

NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE.

Who, with inflexible Cruelty of Heart, And unexampled depravity of Mind, Was permitted to scourge the Earth, for a Time, With all the Horrors of War: Too ignorant, and incapable, to do good to Mankind, The whole Force of his Mind was employed In oppressing the Weak, and plundering the Industrious: He was equally detested by all; His enemies he butchered in cold Blood; And fearing to leave incomplete the Catalogue of his Crimes, His friends he rewarded with a poison’d Chalice. He was an Epitome Of all that was vicious in the worst of Tyrants; He possess’d their Cruelty, without their Talents; Their Madness, without their Genius; The Baseness of one, and the Imbecility of another. Providence, at last, Wearied out with his Crimes, Returned him to the Dunghill from which he sprung; After having held him forth On the neighbouring Gibbet, As a Scare-crow to the Invaders of the British Coast. This Beach, The only Spot in our Isle polluted by his footsteps; This Dunghill All that remains to him of his boasted Conquest. Briton! Ere you pass by Kneel and thank thy God, For all the Blessings of thy glorious Constitution; Then return unto the peaceful Bosom of thy Family, and continue In the Practice of those Virtues, By which thy Ancestors Merited the Favor of the Almighty.

I. Cruikshank, in ‘Johnny Bull giving Boney a Pull’ (August 7, 1803), brought out a caricature in which is graphically depicted the total annihilation of the French flotilla, and John Bull is dragging Napoleon, by a cord round his neck, to a gallows, surrounded by people waving their hats in token of joy. Napoleon, not unnaturally, hangs back, remarking, ‘Ah! Misericordi! Ah! Misericordi! Jean Bool, Jean Bool, hanging not good for Frenchmen.’ But John pulls along manfully, exclaiming, ‘I shant _measure the Cord_, you F----. I am sure it is long enough for a dozen such Fellows as you.’

A picture by West (August 8, 1803), ‘Resolutions in case of an Invasion,’ is divided into six compartments. A tailor, with his shears, says, ‘I’ll trim his skirts for him.’ A barber, ‘I’ll lather his wiskers.’ An apothecary, with a pestle and mortar, ‘I’ll pound him.’ A cobbler, ‘I’ll strap his Jacket.’ A publican, ‘I’ll cool his Courage in a pot of Brown Stout.’ An epicure, ‘I’ll eat him.’

The punishment, for any attempt at invasion, was prophesied as being his certain downfall, and a nameless artist (August 12, 1803) produced an engraving of ‘A rash attempt, and woful downfall’--Bonaparte snatching at the British Crown.

But as he climb’d to grasp the Crown, She knock’d him with the Scepter down, He tumbled in the Gulph profound, There doom’d to whirl an endless Round.

Britannia is represented as standing on a cliff, with a crown upraised in her left hand, and a sceptre in her right. Napoleon is shewn as tumbling into the infernal regions, to the great joy of attendant demons.

‘Observations upon Stilts’ is by an unknown artist (August 12, 1803), and represents Bonaparte upon a huge pair of stilts. He is looking, over to England, through a telescope, and is saying, ‘How very diminutive everything appears from this astonishing elevation. Who is that little man, I wonder, on the Island, the other side the ditch? he seems to be watching my motions.’ John Bull, the person referred to, is also using his telescope, exclaiming, ‘Why surely that can’t be Bonny, perch’d up in that manner. Rabbit him! if he puts one of his Poles across here, I’ll soon lighten his timbers.’