Kitabı oku: «The Dawn of the XIXth Century in England», sayfa 6

“Shall, Frenchmen rule o’er us? King Edward said, No!

 
And No! said King Harry, and Queen Bess she said, No!
And No! said Old England, and No! she says still;
They never shall rule Us; let them try if they will.
Hearts of Oak we are all, both our Ships and our Men;
Then steady, Boys, steady,
Let’s always be ready;
We have trimmed them before, let us trim them again.
 

 
Shall Frenchmen rule o’er us? King George he says No!
And No! say our Lords, and our Commons they say No!
And No! say All Britons of every degree;
They shall never rule Britons, United and Free.
 

Hearts of Oak, &c.

 
Shall Frenchmen rule us, the Free Sons of the Waves?
Shall England be ruled by a Nation of Slaves?
Shall the Corsican Tyrant, who bound on their Chains,
Govern Us, in the room of Our Good King who reigns?
 

Hearts of Oak, &c.

 
Though He’d fain stop our Press, yet we’ll publish his shame;
We’ll proclaim to the World his detestable Fame;
How the Traitor Renounced his Redeemer, and then
How he murder’d his Pris’ners and Poison’d his Men.
 

Hearts of Oak, &c.

 
Then Down with the Tyrant, and Down with his Rod!
Let us stand by our Freedom, our King, and our God!
Let us stand by our Children, our Wives, and our Homes!
Then Woe to the Tyrant Whenever he Comes!
 

Hearts of Oak, &c.”

The following is particularly good, as it gives a very vivid description of what might have occurred, had Napoleon’s threatened invasion been successful, and it will favourably contrast with its congener of modern times, “The Battle of Dorking.”

“Our Invasion Sketch

“If there be one Person so lost to all Love for his Country, and the British Constitution, as to suppose that his Person or his Property, his Rights and his Freedom, would be respected under a Foreign Yoke, let him contemplate the following Picture – not Overcharged, but drawn from Scenes afforded by every Country: Italy, Holland, Switzerland, Germany, Spain, Hanover, which has been exposed to the Miseries of a French Invasion.

“London, 10 Thermidor Year –

General Bonaparte made his public entrance into the Capital, over London Bridge, upon a charger from his Britannic Majesty’s Stables at Hanover, preceded by a detachment of Mamelukes. He stopped upon the bridge for a few seconds, to survey the number of ships in the river; and, beckoning to one of his Aide-de-camps, ordered the French flags to be hoisted above the English – the English sailors on board, who attempted to resist the execution of this order, were bayonetted, and thrown overboard.

“When he came to the Bank, he smiled with Complaisance upon a detachment of French Grenadiers, who had been sent to load all the bullion in waggons, which had previously been put in requisition by the Prefect of London, Citizen Mengaud, for the purpose of being conveyed to France. The Directors of the Bank were placed under a strong guard of French soldiers, in the Bank parlour.

“From the Bank, the First Consul proceeded, in grand procession, along Cheapside, St. Paul’s, Ludgate Hill, Fleet Street, and the Strand, to St. James’s Palace. He there held a grand Circle, which was attended by all his officers, whose congratulations he received upon his entrance into the Capital of these once proud Islanders. Bonaparte, previous to his arrival, appointed two Prefects, one for London, and one for Westminster. Citizen Mengaud, late Commissary at Calais, is the Prefect of London, and Citizen Rapp, of Westminster. He also nominated Citizen Fouché to the office of Minister of Police. The Mansion-house has been selected for the residence of the Prefect of London, and Northumberland House,¹⁸ for the residence of the Prefect of Westminster. As it has been deemed necessary to have the Minister of Police always near the person of the First Consul, Marlborough House has been given to Citizen Fouché. Lodgings have been prepared elsewhere, for the late owners of that splendid palace.

“London was ordered to be illuminated, and detachments of French Dragoons paraded the principal streets, and squares, all night.

“11 Thermidor

“Bonaparte, at five o’clock in the morning, reviewed the French troops on the Esplanade at the Horse Guards. A Council was afterwards held, at which the following Proclamations were drawn up, and ordered to be posted in every part of the City:

“‘By Order of the First Consul.“‘Proclamation

“‘St. James’s Palace.

“‘Inhabitants of London, be tranquil. The Hero, the Pacificator, is come among you. His moderation, and his mercy, are too well known to you. He delights in restoring peace and liberty to all mankind. Banish all alarms. Pursue your usual occupations. Put on the habit of joy and gladness.

“‘The First Consul orders,

“‘That all the Inhabitants of London and Westminster remain in their own houses for three days.

“‘That no molestation shall be offered to the measures which the French Soldiers will be required to execute.

“‘All persons disobeying these Orders, will be immediately carried before the Minister of Police.

“‘(Signed) Bonaparte.

“‘The Minister of Police, Fouché.’

“‘Proclamation

“‘To the French Soldiers

“‘Soldiers! Bonaparte has led you to the Shores, and the Capital of this proud island. He promised to reward his brave companions in arms. He promised to give up the Capital of the British Empire to pillage. Brave Comrades, take your reward. London, the second Carthage, is given up to pillage for three days.

“‘(Signed) Bonaparte.

“‘The Minister of War, par interim, Angereau.’

“The acclamations of the French Soldiery —Vive Bonaparte—le Héros—le Pacificateur—le Magnanime– resound through every street.

“12th, 13th, 14th Thermidor

“London Pillaged! The doors of private houses forced. Bands of drunken soldiers dragging wives, and daughters, from the hands of husbands and fathers. Many husbands, who had the temerity to resist, butchered in the presence of their Children. Flames seen in a hundred different places, bursting from houses which had been set fire to, by the vivacity of the troops. Churches broken open, and the Church plate plundered – the pews and altars converted into Stabling. Four Bishops murdered, who had taken refuge in Westminster Abbey – the screams of women and of children mix with the cries of the Soldiers —Vive la Republique! Vive Bonaparte!

“St. Martin’s Church converted into a depôt for the property acquired by the pillage of the Soldiery.

“15 Thermidor

“A proclamation published by the First Consul, promising protection to the inhabitants.

“The houses of the principal Nobility and Gentry appropriated to the use of the French Generals. Every house is required to furnish so many rations of bread and meat for the troops.

“At a Council of State, presided over by Bonaparte, the two Houses of Parliament are solemnly abolished, and ordered to be replaced by a Senate, and a Council of State. General Massena appointed Provisional President of the former, and General Dessolles of the latter. The Courts of Law are directed to discontinue their sittings, and are replaced by Military Tribunals.

“16 Thermidor

“A contribution of twenty millions ordered to be levied upon London. A deputation was sent to Bonaparte to represent the impossibility of complying with the demand, the Bank and the Capital having been pillaged. After waiting in the ante-chamber of the Consul for four hours, the deputation are informed by a Mameluke guard, that Bonaparte will not see them. Two hundred of the principal Citizens ordered to be imprisoned till the Contribution is paid.

“17 Thermidor

“A plot discovered by Fouché against the First Consul, and three hundred, supposed to be implicated in it, sent to the Tower.

“Insurrections in different parts of the Capital, on account of the excesses of the Soldiers, and the contribution of twenty millions. Cannon planted at all the principal avenues, and a heavy fire of grape shot kept up against the insurgents.

“Lords Nelson, St. Vincent, and Duncan, Messrs. Addington, Pitt, Sheridan, Grey, twenty Peers and Commons, among the latter is Sir Sidney Smith, tried by the Military Tribunals for having been concerned in the insurrection against France, and sentenced to be shot. Sentence was immediately carried into execution in Hyde Park.

“18 Thermidor

“The Dock-yards ordered to send all the timber, hemp, anchors, masts, &c., to France. The relations of the British sailors at sea, sent to prison till the ships are brought into port, and placed at the disposal of the French. Detachments dispatched to the different Counties to disarm the people.

“The Island ordered to be divided into departments, and military divisions – the name of London to be changed for Bonapart-opolis– and the appellation of the Country to be altered from Great Britain, to that of La France insulaire. – Edinburgh to take the name of Lucien-ville– Dublin, that of Massen-opolis.

“BRITONS! can this be endured? shall we suffer ourselves thus to be parcelled off? I hear you one and all say, No! No! No! To your Tents, O Israel! – for BRITONS NEVER WILL BE SLAVES.”

CHAPTER X

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.

 
“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

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.