CHAPTER XXXVIII.

INVASION SQUIBS--CADOUDAL’S CONSPIRACY--EXECUTION OF THE DUC D’ENGHIEN--CAPTAIN WRIGHT.

The Volunteer movement was well shown in a print by A. M., November 1803: ‘Boney attacking the English Hives, or the Corsican caught at last in the Island.’ There are many hives, the chief of which has a royal crown on its top, and is labelled ‘Royal London Hive. Threadneedle Street Honey’--which Napoleon is attacking, sword in hand. George the Third, as Bee Master, stands behind the hives, and says, ‘What! what! you plundering little Corsican Villain, have you come to rob my industrious Bees of their Honey? I won’t trust to your oath. Sting, Sting the Viper to the heart my good Bees, let Buz, Buz be the Word in the Island.’ The bees duly obey their master’s request, and come in clouds over Napoleon, who has to succumb, and pray, kneeling, ‘Curse those Bees they sting like Scorpions. I did not think this Nation of Shopkeepers could sting so sharp. Pray good Master of the Bees, do call them off, and I will swear by all the three creeds which I profess, Mahometan, Infidel, and Christian, that I will never disturb your Bees again.’

‘Selling the Skin before the Bear is caught, or cutting up the Bull before he is killed,’ is by I. Cruikshank (December 21, 1803), and represents a Bull reposing calmly on the English shore, whilst on the opposite or French coast is Bonaparte, Talleyrand, and several Generals. Bonaparte, pointing to the Bull, says: ‘I shall take the Middle part, because it contains the Heart and Vitals--Talley, you may take the head, because you have been accustomed to take the Bull by the horns.’ Britannia stands, fully armed, behind the Bull, by an ‘alarm post,’ on which hangs a bell, ‘British Valor,’ which she is preparing to ring: ‘When these Mounseers have settled their plan, I will just rouse the Bull, and then see who will be cut up first.’

‘New Bellman’s Verses for Christmas 1803!’ is an extremely inartistic work of an unknown man (December 1803); the only thing worth quoting about it are these verses:--

This little Boney says he’ll come At Merry Christmas time, But that I say is all a hum, Or I no more will rhyme.

Some say in wooden house he’ll glide, Some say in air Balloon, E’en those who airy schemes deride, Agree his coming soon.

Now honest people list to me, Though Income is but small, I’ll bet my Wig to one Pen--ney, He does not come at all.

‘More than expected, or too many for Boney’ (artist unknown, December 1803), shows him as an Ass, on whose back is John Bull, Russia, Prussia, and Germany. Says Russia, ‘We all depend upon you Mr. Bull--give him a little more spurring, and we’ll soon make him feel the Rowels.’ John mildly expostulates with his quadruped: ‘Come--come, don’t be sulky--if you won’t go in a snaffle, you must be forced to go in a curb.’

Dean Swift’s immortal book did yeoman’s service to the caricaturists, and we find it again employed in a print by West, December 1803: ‘The Brobdingnag Watchman preventing Gulliver’s landing.’ It is very feeble, and merely consists of George the Third as a watchman turning the light of the ‘Constitutional Lanthorn’ upon Bonaparte and his companions, who are attempting a landing.

Another print, by West (December 1803), shows ‘Mr. and Mrs. Bull giving Buonaparte a Christmas Treat!’ The latter is bound to a post in sight of, but beyond reach of, the national fare of this festival. John Bull says, holding up a piece of beef, in derision, ‘Yes, yes--the Beef is very good, so is the pudding too--but the deuce a morsel do you get of either, Master Boney.’ Mrs. Bull too, who is drinking from a frothing tankard, says: ‘Your health Master Boney, wishing you a merry Christmas,’ but offers him none.

An unknown artist gives an undated picture of ‘a Cock and Bull Story.’ Napoleon, as the Gallic Cock, on his side of the Channel, sings

Cock a dudle doo, I shall come over to you. I’ll fight true game, and crow my Fame, And make you all look blue.

John Bull, who is peacefully reposing in his pastures rejoins:--

You impertinent Cock, I’ll have you to know On this side the Brook, you never shall Crow, And if you’re not quick, and give up your jaw, I’ll teach you the nature of English Club Law.

In 1803 was published an amusing squib, in which the names of various plays are very ingeniously made into a patriotic address:--

THE GREEN ROOM OPINION

OF THE

THREATENED INVASION.

Should the Modern _Tamerlane_ revive the tragedy of _England Invaded_, and, in the progress of his _Wild goose Chace_, escape the _Tempest_, he will find that, with us, it is _Humours of the Age_ to be _Volunteers_. He will prove that we have many a _Plain Dealer_, who will tear off _the Mask_, under which _the Hypocrite_, this _Fool of Fortune_, this _Choleric man_, has abused a credulous world. Should he, to _a Wonder_, attempt a _Trip to Scarborough_, to set them _all alive at Portsmouth_, or to get _on both sides of the gutter_, he will assuredly meet a _Chapter of Accidents_ on his _Road to Ruin_; for _Britannia and the Gods are in Council_, to make him a _Castle Spectre_: he will, too late, discover _the Secret_ of _Who’s the Dupe_; and that it is _the Custom of the Country_ of _John Bull_, to shew _the Devil to pay_ to any _Busybody_, who seeks to enforce on us _Reformation_.

This _Double Dealer_, who has excited dismay _Abroad and at Home_, and gained _Notoriety_ by the magnitude of the mischiefs he has achieved, still presumes, by _the Wheel of Fortune_, like another _Pizarro_, to satiate his _Revenge_, and to learn _How to grow Rich_, by renewing the distressing scenes of _the Siege of Damascus_; until amongst the desolated ruins of our City, he should establish himself like _a London Hermit_. That _he Would if he Could_, is past all doubt; but if he will take _a Word to the Wise_, from _a Man of the World_, he will believe _He’s much to blame_, and _All in the Wrong_; for _the Doctor and the Apothecary_ are in _the Committee_; and by good _Management_, are forward in _the Rehearsal_ of the lively Comedy of _the Way to keep Him_ under _Lock and Key_. They may not be able to produce for him _a Cure for the Heartache_, or for _the Vapourish Man_, but they will shew him at least _Cheap Living_, and prove that he has sown his _Wild Oats_, in a _Comedy of Errors_.

_The Poor Soldier_, whose generous heart expands to render _Love for Love_, is like the gallant and gay Lothario, armed for either field, and prepared to give _Measure for Measure_; and to convert the _Agreeable Surprize_, which the Acre _Runaway_ anticipates in _the Camp_, from _the Beaux Stratagem_ into _a Tale of Mystery_. _Appearances are against him_, as well as _the Chances_; but he is a desperate _Gamester_; and although his schemes of Conquest will end in _Much ado about Nothing_, like a _Midsummer’s night’s Dream_, or _a Winter’s Tale_, yet he is _Heir at Law_ to our hate; and _Every one has his Fault_, if he does not unite to revive the splendid scenes of _Edward the Black Prince_, and _Henry the Fifth_, when France trembled beneath our arms at Cressy and Agincourt; and give to this unprincipled _Bajazet_ an exit corresponding with his crimes.

A NEW SONG OF OLD SAYINGS.

Bonaparte the Bully resolved to come over, With flat-bottomed Wherries, from Calais to Dover; No perils to him in the billows are found, ‘_For if born to be hang’d, he can never be drown’d_.’

From a Corsican dunghill this fungus did spring, He was soon made a Captain and would be a King; But the higher he rises the more he does evil, ‘_For a Beggar, on horseback, will ride to the Devil_.’

To seize all that we have and then clap us in jail, To devour our victuals, and drink all our ale, And to grind us to dust is the Corsican’s will-- ‘_For we know all is grist that e’er comes to his mill_.’

To stay quiet, at home, the First Consul can’t bear Or, mayhap, ‘_he would have other fish to fry there_’; So, as fish of that sort does not suit his desire, ‘_He leaps out of the frying pan, into the fire_.’

He builds barges and cock boats, and craft without end And numbers the boats which to England he’ll send; But in spite of his craft, and his barges and boats ‘_He still reckons, I think, without one of his hosts_.’

He rides upon France and he tramples on Spain, And holds Holland and Italy tight in a Chain; These he hazards for more, though I can’t understand, ‘_How one bird in the bush is worth two in the hand_.’

He trusts that his luck will all danger expel, ‘_But the pitcher is broke that goes oft to the well_’; And when our brave soldiers this Bully surround, ‘_Though he’s thought_ Penny Wise, _he’ll be foolish in_ Pound.’

France can never forget that our fathers of yore, Used to pepper and baste her at sea and at shore; And we’ll speedily prove to this mock-Alexander, ‘_What was sauce for the goose, will be sauce for the Gander_.’

I have heard and have read in a great many books, Half the Frenchmen are Tailors, and t’other half Cooks;-- We’ve fine Trimmings in store for the Knights of the Cloth, ‘_And the Cooks that come here, will but spoil their own broth_.’

It is said that the French are a numerous race, And perhaps it is true--for ‘_ill weeds grow apace_’; But come when they will, and as many as dare, ‘_I expect they’ll arive a day after the fair_.’

To invade us more safely these warriors boast They will wait till a storm drives our fleet from the Coast, That ’twill be an ‘_ill wind_,’ will be soon understood, For a wind _that blows_ Frenchmen, ‘_blows nobody good_.’

They would treat Britain worse than they’ve treated Mynheer, But they’ll find ‘_they have got the wrong sow by the ear_.’ Let them come then in swarms, by this Corsican lead, And I warrant ‘_we’ll hit the right nail on the head_.’

The year 1804 was a most eventful one for Napoleon. With all his hatred of England, and his wish for her invasion, he was powerless in that matter, and had plenty to employ him at home. The English had got used to their bugbear the flotilla, and the caricaturist had a rest. Napoleon had his hands full. First and foremost was that conspiracy against his life and government, in which Georges Cadoudal, Moreau, and Pichegru figure so prominently, and which entailed the execution of the Duc d’Enghien.

The Bourbon house he so detested, He had the Duke d’Enghien arrested; A sort of trial then took place, And sentence passed--the usual case. ’Tis said that Boney chose a spot, To see the gallant fellow shot.

Whatever may have been Napoleon’s conduct in this affair, these two last lines are undoubtedly false. The duke had been residing at Ettenheim, in the duchy of Baden, and was thought to be there in readiness to head the Royalists in case of need, that his hunting was but a pretext to cover flying visits to Paris, and that he was the person whom Georges Cadoudal and his fellow conspirators always received bareheaded. He was seized, brought to Paris, and lodged in the Château de Vincennes. A few hours’ rest, and he was roused at midnight to go before his judges. It was in vain he pleaded the innocence of his occupations, and begged to have an interview with the First Consul; yet he declared he had borne arms against France, and his wish to serve in the war on the English side against France; and owned that he received a pension of one hundred and fifty guineas a month from England. He was found guilty and condemned to death, and two hours afterwards was led out into the ditch of the fortress, and there shot, a priest being refused him. O’Meara, describing a conversation with Napoleon on this subject, says: ‘I now asked if it were true that Talleyrand had retained a letter written by the Duc d’Enghien to him until two days after the duke’s execution? Napoleon’s reply was, “It is true; the duke had written a letter offering his services, and asking a command in the Army from me, which that _scelerato_, Talleyrand, did not make known until two days after his execution.” I observed that Talleyrand, by his culpable concealment of the letter, was virtually guilty of the death of the duke. “Talleyrand,” replied Napoleon, “is a _briccone_, capable of any crime. I,” continued he, “caused the Duc d’Enghien to be arrested in consequence of the Bourbons having landed assassins in France to murder me. I was resolved to let them see that the blood of one of their princes should pay for their attempts, and he was accordingly tried for having borne arms against the republic, found guilty, and shot, according to the existing laws against such a crime.”’

Ansell (June 2, 1804) gives us ‘The Cold Blooded Murderer, or the Assassination of the Duc d’Enghien,’ in which the duke is represented as being bound to a tree, a soldier on either side holding a torch, whilst Napoleon is running his sword into his heart. D’Enghien bravely cries out, ‘Assassin! your Banditti need not cover my Eyes, I fear not Death, tho’ perhaps a guiltless countenance may appall your bloodthirsty soul.’ Napoleon, whilst stabbing his victim, says: ‘Now de whole World shall know de courage of de first grand Consul, dat I can kill my enemies in de Dark, as well as de light, by Night as well as by Day,--dare--and dare I had him--hark, vat noise was dat? ah! ’tis only de Wind--dare again, and dare--Now I shall certainly be made Emperor of de Gulls.’[1] Devils are rejoicing over the deed, and are bearing a crown. They say: ‘This glorious deed does well deserve a Crown, thus let us feed his wild ambition, untill some bold avenging hand shall make him all our own.’

A Captain Wright figures in this plot; and, as he was an Englishman, and his name is frequent both in the caricature and satire of the day, some notice of him must be given. He was a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, and somehow got mixed up with this conspiracy. He took Georges Cadoudal and others on board either at Deal or Hastings, and crossed over to Beville, where there was a smuggler’s rope let down from an otherwise inaccessible cliff. By means of this they were drawn up, and went secretly to Paris. The plot failed, and they were thrown into prison, Wright being afterwards captured at sea. Cadoudal went to the scaffold, Pichegru was found strangled in his cell; and Wright, the English said, after being tortured in prison, to compel him to give evidence against his companions, was assassinated by order of Napoleon.

The latter, however, always indignantly denied it, saying that Captain Wright committed suicide. In O’Meara’s book he denies it several times, and an extract or two will be worth noting. ‘In different nights of August, September, and December 1803 and January 1804, Wright landed Georges, Pichegru, Rivière, Costa, St. Victor, La Haye, St. Hilaire, and others at Beville. The four last named had been accomplices in the former attempt to assassinate me by means of the infernal machine, and most of the rest were well known to be chiefs of the Chouans,’ &c. ‘There was something glorious in Wright’s death. He preferred taking away his own life, to compromising his government.’ ‘Napoleon in very good spirits. Asked many questions about the horses that had won at the races, and the manner in which we trained them; how much I had won or lost; and about the ladies, &c. “You had a large party yesterday,” continued he. “How many bottles of wine? Drink, your eyes look like drink,” which he expressed in English. “Who dined with you?” I mentioned Captain Wallis amongst others. “What! is that the lieutenant who was with Wright?” I replied in the affirmative. “What does he say about Wright’s death?” I said, “He states his belief that Wright was murdered by orders of Fouché, for the purpose of ingratiating himself with you. That six or seven weeks previous, Wright had told him that he expected to be murdered like Pichegru, and begged of him never to believe that he would commit suicide; that he had received a letter from Wright, about four or five weeks before his death, in which he stated that he was better treated, allowed to subscribe to a library, and to receive newspapers.” Napoleon replied, “I will never allow that Wright was put to death by Fouché’s orders. If he was put to death privately, it must have been by my orders, and not by those of Fouché. Fouché knew me too well. He was aware that I would have had him hanged directly, if he attempted it. By this officer’s own words, Wright was not _au secret_, as he says he saw him some weeks before his death, and that he was allowed books and newspapers. Now, if it had been in contemplation to make away with him, he would have been put _au secret_ for months before, in order that people might not be accustomed to see him for some time previous, as I thought this * * * intended to do in November last. Why not examine the gaolers and turnkeys? The Bourbons have every opportunity of proving it, if such really took place. But your ministers themselves do not believe it. The idea I have of what was my opinion at that time about Wright, is faint; but, as well as I can recollect, it was that he ought to have been brought before a military commission, for having landed spies and assassins, and the sentence executed within forty-eight hours. What dissuaded me from doing so, I cannot clearly recollect. Were I in France at this moment, and a similar occurrence took place, the above would be my opinion, and I would write to the English Government: ‘Such an officer of yours has been tried for landing brigands and assassins on my territories. I have caused him to be tried by a military commission. He has been condemned to death. The sentence has been carried into execution. If any of my officers in your prisons have been guilty of the same, try, and execute them. You have my full permission and acquiescence. Or, if you find, hereafter, any of my officers landing assassins on your shores, shoot them instantly.’”’