Disband the lover who deserts his arms.
So shall ye fire each hero to his duty,
And British rights be saved by British beauty.
THE PRESS, ON CULLODEN.
The Whig press was, of course, jubilant. The papers in the opposite interest put as good a face as they could on the matter, and expressed a conviction that they ‘ventured no treason in hoping that the weather might change.’
The ‘Craftsman’ was, or affected to be, beside itself for joy at the thought that no foreign mercenaries had helped to reap the laurels at Culloden. The victory was won by British troops only; and the duke might say, like Coriolanus, ‘Alone, I did it!’ The ‘True Patriot’ insisted on some share of the laurels being awarded to the king, since he stood singly in refusing to despair of the monarchy, when all other men were, or seemed, hopeless and helpless. To which the ‘Western Journal’ added that not merely was the king far-seeing, and the duke victorious at the head of English troops without foreign auxiliaries, but that never before had an English army made its way so far into the country, to crush a Scottish foe. The ‘Journal,’ much read in all London coffee-houses resorted to by Western gentlemen, was opposed to the killing of rebels in cold blood, and could not see what profit was to be got by hanging them. This paper suggested that some benefit might be obtained by making slaves of them; not by transporting them to the Plantations, but by compelling them to serve in the herring and salmon fisheries, for the advantage of the compellers, that is, the Government!
SAVAGERY AND SATIRE.
In the ‘General Advertiser,’ a man who probably had reached the age when a sense of humanity fails before any of the other senses, asked what objection was to be found with such terms as ‘Extermination,’ ‘Extirpation,’ and similar significances applied to those savages, the Highlanders? This ogre, in his easy chair, cared not to see that, in driving out a whole race, more cruelty would be deliberately inflicted on innocent human beings, than the savage Highlanders had inflicted in their fury. And indeed, the latter did not spare their own people, if the milkmaids’ song be true, in which the illustrative line occurs, ‘We dare na gae a milkin’ for fear o’ Charlie’s men.’ However, the least punishment which the correspondent of the ‘Advertiser’ would accept was a general transportation of the race to Africa and America, and a settlement on their lands of English tenants at easy rents! This sort of Highlander-phobia and the threatened application of severe laws which included the suppression of what has been called ‘the Garb of old Gael,’ or Highland dress, gave rise to some good-natured satire. ‘We hear,’ said one of the newspapers, ‘that the dapper wooden Highlanders, who guard so heroically the doors of snuff shops, intend to petition the Legislature in order that they may be excused from complying with the Act of Parliament with regard to their change of dress, alleging that they had ever been faithful subjects to his Majesty, having constantly supplied his Guards with a pinch out of their Mulls, when they marched by them; and so far from engaging in any Rebellion, that they have never entertained a rebellious thought, whence they humbly hope that they shall not be put to the expense of buying new Cloaths.’
THE CARICATURISTS.
So spoke the fun-loving spirits; but there were baser spirits on the conquering side, and these speedily exhibited an indecent exultation. The ignominious caricaturists attracted crowds to the print shops to gaze at the facility with which vulgar minds can degrade solemn and lofty themes. On the one hand, the defeat of the Highlanders and the consternation of Sullivan, the standard-bearer in Charles Edward’s army, attracted laughter. On the other hand, the too early, and altogether vain, boast conveyed on the young Chevalier’s banner, ‘Tandem triumphans,’ was more legitimately satirised in an engraving in which the standard-bearer is an ass, and on his standard are three crowns surmounted by a coffin, with the motto ‘Tandem triumphans,’ done into English by the Duke of Cumberland, as equivalent to ‘Every dog has his day;’—which, after all, was no great compliment to the duke. The triple crown and coffin represented the issue of crown or grave; in one print the Devil is seen flying with it over Temple Bar, as if it merited to be planted there, as were afterwards the spiked heads of Towneley and of Fletcher.