CHAPTER XXXVI.

INVASION SQUIBS, _continued_--TALLEYRAND’S DISINCLINATION TO INVADE ENGLAND.

‘A full and particular Account of the Trial of Napoleon Buonaparte before John Bull,’ drawn by Woodward, etched by Cruikshank (September 14, 1803), is a broadside not remarkable for artistic merit; it does not even give a fair idea of Napoleon’s features. The letterpress is as follows:--

The Court being opened, and John Bull on the bench, Napoleon Buonaparte was put to the Bar, charged with various high crimes, thieving, and misdemeanours. Counsellor Tell Truth opened the case on the part of the prosecution, as follows:

_Counsellor._ May it please your worship Mr. John Bull, and Gentlemen of the Jury, From the Indictment now before you, you will perceive the prisoner stands charged as follows: that he, Napoleon Buonaparte, on the 28th of December, 1793, caused at Toulon, when the siege was over, fifteen hundred men, women, and children, to be fired upon with grape shot; that by these means he became a favourite of Robespierre, and, in concert with that destroyer, did on the 13th Vendemaire, October 4, 1795, sweep the streets of Paris near the Pont Neuf with artillery, and covered the steps of St. Roch with heaps of slaughtered bodies; the persons massacred on the whole amounted to about eight thousand. At Pavia, the magistrates having interfered to save the people from the bayonet, were bound together, and shot by his order; he also burnt the town of Benasco, and massacred the inhabitants. At Alexandria he gave up the city to his soldiers for four hours; the old people, women, and children, flew to the mosques, but the mosques were no protection from brutal fury, though Buonaparte professed himself a Turk;--at Jaffa, horrid to relate! three thousand eight hundred prisoners were marched to a rising ground, and there destroyed by means of musquetry, grape shot, and the bayonet; in short, his various massacres, robberies, and pillage, are too numerous to bring forward. I shall only observe, that this gentle, this merciful man, at the above place, Jaffa, finding his hospitals crowded with sick of his own army, caused the whole to be poisoned; thus, in a few hours, five hundred and eighty soldiers died miserably by order of their General--; so says Sir Robert Wilson.

_John Bull._ Mercy on me, Mr. Tell Truth, let me hear no more, it will lift my wig off with horror!!!

_Counsellor T. T._ I shall briefly observe, that this man, after overrunning all Italy, France, Holland, Switzerland, stealing our beloved George’s horses at Hanover, and various other sacrifices to his unbounded ambition, had the audacity to declare he would invade the happy shores of Great Britain, and disturb the fireside of honest John Bull and his children; but he was stopped in his career by a single English seaman, who will lay the particulars before the Court. Crier, call in Tom Mizen.

_Crier._ Tom Mizen, come into Court.

_John Bull._ Now, Mister Mizen, what have you to say?

_Tom Mizen._ You must know, Mr. Bull, having, as it were, lashed myself to a love of my King and Country, and hearing the land lubber at the bar was about to bring over his Cock boats; I thought myself, in duty bounden, to see what sort of game he was after; so, rigging out my little skiff the Buxom Kitty, I clapped a few pounders aboard, with an allowance of grog, and set sail; when I got near Bull-hog-ney--I think they call it so in their palaver--but I never can think of their outlandish palaver, not I--howsomdever I soon spied a little gun boat or two, and on board one of them I saw a little pale-faced olive-coloured man in a large cocked hat, taking measure of the sides: may I never set sail again, said I, if that is not little Boney--so I made no more ado, but got ready my cordage and grappling irons, and after one broadside, towed the little gentleman into Brighton.

_John Bull._ Bravo, Mister Mizen--now let us hear what Mynheer Dutchman has to say.

_Dutchman._ Indeed, Mynheer Bool, I have nothing to say in his favour--he has robbed me of my liberty, my money, and everything that is dear to me.

_Italian._ I am precisely in the same position.

_Swiss._ And I.

_The Pope._ I once had a voice in the senate, but he has totally abridged my power.

_Hanoverian, &c._ We are one and all tired of his tyrannical usurpation.

_John Bull._ Then it appears to me no one will speak in his favour.

_From the Court._ Not one.

_John Bull._ Well then--what has the prisoner to say in his own defence?

_Buonaparte._ I am a man of few words, and leave my defence, entirely to my counsel.

_The Devil, as Counsellor for the Prisoner._ Mr. Bull, and Gentlemen of the Jury, I blush for the first time in my life; it is well known I am the father of lies and mischief, and have had the prisoner at the bar a considerable time in training, but he really goes so much beyond my abilities, that I entirely give up to the discretion of the Jury.

_John Bull._ I shall very briefly, gentlemen, sum up the evidence; you have heard a long and serious detail of the prisoner’s cruelties in different parts of the world. The conduct of our worthy countryman, Tom Mizen, you must all admire; you perceive there is not one person to speak in his favour; and even his old counsel the Devil will have nothing to do with him--I therefore leave him to your verdict.

The Jury, without leaving the Court, pronounced the prisoner _Guilty_.

John Bull then passed sentence, as follows:

NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE--after a fair trial, you have been found guilty of various high crimes and misdemeanours, in different parts of this world. I am a man that delights not in blood; I therefore sentence you to be turned over to the care of my trusty and beloved friend Mr. Pidcock, proprietor of the Wild beasts over Exeter ‘Change in the Strand; there to be publicly shewn to my fellow citizens, inclosed in an iron cage for three months; after the expiration of which time, I sentence you to be transported to your native town of Ajaccio in Corsica for three months, and, for the remainder of your life, to be hung up by your legs in the mines of Mexico.

Mr. Pidcock attended with a cage, and disposed of the prisoner according to his sentence; he appeared extremely hardened during the whole of the trial. The Court was uncommonly crowded.

‘Buonaparte’s Soliloquy at Calais, written and designed by G. M. Woodward,’ was published September 21, 1803. It is as follows:--

To go or not to go? that is the question;-- Whether ’tis better for my views to suffer The ease and quiet of yon hated rival, Or to take arms against the haughty people, And by invading, end them? T’ invade,--to fight,-- No more! and by a fight, to say we end The envy and the thousand jealous pangs We now must bear with; ’tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish’d. T’ invade--to fight-- To fight?--perchance be beat: aye, there’s the rub; For in our passage hence what ills may come, When we have parted from our native ports, Must give us pause there’s the respect That makes th’ alternative so hard a choice. For who would bear their just and equal laws, Their sacred faith, and general happiness, That shew in contrast black our tyrant sway, Our frequent breach of treaty, and the harms Devouring armies on the people bring, When he himself could the dark shame remove By mere invasion? Who would tamely view That happy nation’s great and thriving power, But that the dread of falling on their coast, (That firm and loyal country, from whose shores No enemy returns,) puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear the ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought; And enterprises of great pith and moment, With this regard, their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.

‘The Fable of the Bundle of Faggots exemplified, or Bonaparte baffled,’ by an unknown artist (September 20, 1803), shows Napoleon unable to break the bundle of _Britons_. His foot rests on a heap of broken faggots, all conquered nations, but this is too hard a job for him, as he confesses: ‘Au diable! all I can do, they’ll neither bend or break.’

An unknown artist (September 1803) gave us, ‘A Peep at the Corsican Fairy.’ Here little Boney is chained to a table and padlocked by _The British Navy_. An Italian, Swiss, Dutchman, and Spaniard are looking curiously at him, thus making their remarks: ‘Monsieur John Bull, I think I have seen this little Gentleman before--he was with us in Italy.’ ‘We shall never forget him in Switzerland.’ ‘My frow once persuaded me to show our house, and he took possession of the whole premises.’ ‘By St. Diego, he is a curious little fellow.’ John Bull is showing him, and has a sweetmeat labelled ‘Malta’ in his hand: ‘Oh yes, sir, he is a great Traveller--but don’t come too near him; he is very cholerick; he put himself into a great passion with me about the sugar plumb I hold in my hand--indeed, if it was not for my little chain and padlock, I could not keep him in any sort of order.’

It is well known that Talleyrand was averse to the intended invasion of England, and some time in September 1803, Gillray produced ‘The Corsican Carcase Butcher’s Reckoning Day, New Style, _No Quarter_ Day!’ a portion of which is here given. Talleyrand (his ecclesiastical status expressed by the cross on his partially military cocked hat) restrains Napoleon from invading England, although the Conqueror has on his seven-league boots. In the distance are the white cliffs of Albion, surrounded by ships of war, and a huge bull bellows defiance. At the open door the Russian bear looks in, enraging Napoleon almost to frenzy. On the ground is a coop full of foxes labelled ‘From Rome, not worth killing.’ ‘The Germanic Body’ lies in a sadly mutilated condition, having lost its head, feet, and hands; one of the latter--the right hand--lies close by, labelled ‘Hanover.’ A poor, lean, gaunt dog, ‘Prussia,’ is in a kennel ‘put up to fatten.’ The food provided for it is blood, or ‘Consular Whipt Syllabub.’ In a trough lie the bodies of six Mamelukes, ‘Jaffa Cross breeds,’ whose blood drains into a receptacle ‘Glory.’ On the walls are hung a sheep, ‘True Spanish Fleec’d’; a dead Monkey, ‘Native Breed’; an ass ‘from Switzerland,’ and a pig ‘from Holland.’

BONEY AND TALLEY.

THE CORSICAN CARCASE BUTCHER’S RECKONING DAY.

NEW STYLE. _NO QUARTER_ DAY!

1.

Says Boney the Butcher to Talley his man, One settling day as they reckon’d, ‘Times are hard--’twere a sin, Not to keep our hand in’-- Talley guessed at his thoughts in a second.

2.

Then he reach’d the account book--turn’d over awhile; ‘I have it--see here are the Dutch, Sir.’ Boney cries ‘It appears That they’re much in arrears.’ Quoth Talley ‘_They don’t owe us much, Sir!_’

3.

‘Here’s Parma, Placentia; there’s Naples and Rome.’ Talley smil’d ‘They are nothing but bone, Sir!’ ‘For the present pass Prussia; What think you of Russia?’ ‘_’Twere as good that we let her alone, Sir!_’

4.

‘My ambition unsated, my fury unquenched, Let Europe now shake to her bases: For my banner unfurl’d, I defy all the world, And _spit in th’ ambassadors’ faces_.’

5.

Seeing raw-head and bloody bones wondrous irate, Talley turn’d o’er the leaf with his finger; ‘Here’s Hanover--if--’ ‘If what?’ in a tiff Cries Boney, ‘Tell Mortier to bring her.

6.

‘Let her bleed till her life strings are ready to burst, To drain her let Massena shew you; The job being done, And all her fat run, We’ll give up her trunk to--_you know who_.

7.

‘This will do for a breakfast--read on.’ Talley read, Each page they conn’d over and over, ‘I can find nothing here; We must stop, Sir, I fear.’ Boney scowl’d, _and then pointed to Dover_.

8.

‘Shall I want employ--whilst a breed there exists So sleek, and so tempting to slaughter? Reach my cleaver and steel, I’ll not sit at a meal-- Till’--Talley cries ‘Think of the _Water_.’

9.

‘A soul such as mine, by the Koran I swear, Such childish impediment scorns, Sir; I will bait this great Bull, And his crest I will pull.’ Cries Talley ‘_Remember his horns, Sir_.’

10.

‘Psha! my mouth ’gins to water, and yearns for the feast, Such dainty, such delicate picking; By his horns I will seize him, Goad, worry, and teaze him:’ Quoth Talley--‘_He’s given to kicking_.’

11.

‘Let him kick, let him toss, and for mercy implore, Be mine the proud task to refuse it; The fates shall obey, I will have my way;’ Talley mutters, ‘_I hope you won’t lose it_.’

12.

‘Sound the cleaver and marrow bones,’ Boney exclaims, ‘Strait this herd in my power shall be, Sir;’ ‘Should you once reach the shore,’ (Talley said somewhat lower,) ‘You’ll soon be at top of the tree, Sir.’

13.

‘Don’t jest with thy master, thou recreant knave! Am I, Sir, or am I, Sir, no king? By the Prophet I swear’-- ‘Cry you mercy--forbear!’ Quoth Talley, ‘_I thought you were joking_.’

14.

‘Am I such a lover of jibes or of jests, Do I ever smile?’ Boney cried, ‘Sir;’ ‘No, that I may say But to blast or betray;’ (But this, Talley uttered aside, Sir.)

15.

He calls on Great Mahomet, swears by his beard, The Lama he begs to be civil; Now tells all his complaints To the Calendar Saints, And now sends them all to the Devil.

16.

_Thus prepared_, he clasp’d firm the dread steel in his hand And wielded his cleaver on high, Sir;-- ‘Oh thou Bull, thou _Grand Bête_! Oh thou barb of my Fate! This day thou most surely shalt die, Sir!’

17.

Tho’ artful and cunning some madmen appear, The simplest expedient will turn ’em; Talley saw what he meant; On the schemes he was bent, And fully resolv’d to adjourn ’em.

18.

Now Boney grown wilder, his eyes seem’d to start, And loudly began he to bellow; When Talley seized hold Of this hero so bold, And pinion’d _the poor little fellow_.

19.

‘Oh, brave, great, and noble, magnanimous man!!!!!! To save thee thy servant is bound, Sir; The Sea it is deep, And the shores they are steep, _Most certainly you will be drown’d, Sir_.

20.

‘Think how precious your life is to France and to me, Obey then your fate, and don’t mock it; Think what we shou’d do, Mighty Sir, without you, With our _liberties all in your pocket_.

21.

‘Nay--_sweet, gentle_ Sir’ (Boney kick’d with all might), ‘Oh!--this chivalry’s quite out of fashion!’ Talley had his own way, Not a word did Bo say, For speak he could not for his passion.

22.

‘Dread Sir, your great project is worthy yourself, Your knife shall soon hit the bull’s throat, Sir, I’d only premise, Were I fit to advise, _’Twould be better to order a boat_, Sir.’

23.

‘A boat, aye, a boat! why there’s reason in that,’ Boney cries with a scowl of delight, Sir; For the truth must be told, He knew Talley of old, And felt in a devilish fright, Sir.

24.

Boney thought that the boat was a much safer plan, He voted the counsel discreet, Sir; Quoth Talley ‘’Tis done, And the day is your own, _Just--take--care--to avoid the Fleet_, Sir.’

25.

Talley cautiously then let the little man down, When the little man softened his features; Yet though little in size, Sir, His soul is as high, Sir, As the cross at the top of Saint Peter’s.

26.

Little Boney shook hands then with Talley the good; (_And thought how he best might dispatch him_) Whilst Talley as meek, Kiss’d the Mussulman’s cheek, (_And swore in his heart to o’er match him_.)

27.

They drank to their hopes--hob a nobb’d to their scheme, Which promis’d such royal diversion; Thus cordial they sat, And, in _harmless chit chat_, Sketch’d the _plan of this water excursion_.

28.

When the boat will be ready we none of us know, Talley swears ’twill be here in a trice, Sir; But it must be confess’d, Boney’s not in such haste, Since he thought of the business twice, Sir.

29.

Then a health to the Butcher! and life long enough, That he once of the Bull may a view get, For, whenever we meet, If he _skulk from the_ FLEET, _We will find him head quarters in_ NEWGATE.