The Prince of Orange was to have adequate compensation for the losses suffered by him in Holland, in consequence of the revolution; and persons accused of murder, forgery, or fraudulent bankruptcy, were to be given up to their respective Powers, on demand, accompanied by proof.
This, then, was the Treaty of Amiens, in which France certainly came best off; and so the popular voice seemed to think, although thankful for any cessation of the constant drain of men and treasure, combined with privations at home, and loss of trade.
A satirical print by Ansell, clearly shows this feeling.
Peace greets John Bull with—“Here I am, Johnny, arrived at last! Like to have been lost at sea; poles of the chaise broke at Dover, springs of the next chaise gave way at Canterbury, and one of the horses fell, and overturned the other chaise at Dartford. Ah, Johnny! I wonder we have ever arrived at all.” John Bull replies, “Odds niggins!!! Why, is that you? have I been waiting all this time to be blessed with such a poor ugly crippled piece? and all you have with you is a quid of tobacco and some allspice.” Mrs. Bull asks her husband, “Why, John, be this she you have been talking so much about?”
LONG-EXPECTED COME AT LAST; OR, JOHN BULL DISAPPOINTED AT HIS CRIPPLED VISITOR.
There was a wild rush of English over to France, and the French returned the compliment, but not in the same ratio; the Continental stomach having then, the same antipathy to the passage of the Channel, as now. Still there was an attempt at an entente cordiale, which was well exemplified by a contemporary artist (unknown), in a picture called “A Peaceable Pipe, or a Consular Visit to John Bull.” Napoleon is having a pleasant chat with his old foe, smoking, and drinking beer with him. John Bull toasts his guest. “Here’s to you, Master Boney Party. Come, take another whiff, my hearty.” Napoleon accepts the invitation with, “Je vous remercie, John Bull; I think I’ll take another pull.” Whilst the gentlemen are thus pleasantly engaged, Mrs. Bull works hard mending John’s too well-worn breeches; and as she works, she says, “Now we are at peace, if my husband does take a drop extraordinary, I don’t much mind; but when he was at war, he was always grumbling. Bless me, how tiresome these old breeches are to mend; no wonder he wore them out, for he had always his hands in his pockets for something or other.”
Among the other Englishmen who took advantage of the peace to go over to France, was Charles James Fox, who, immediately after his election for Westminster, on July 15, 1802, started off for Paris, professedly to search the archives there, for material for his introductory chapter to “A History of the Early Part of the Reign of James the Second.” A history of this trip was afterwards written by his private secretary, Mr. Trotter.[15] He and Mrs. Fox, who was now first publicly acknowledged as his wife, were introduced to Napoleon; a subject most humorously treated by Gillray, in his “Introduction of Citizen Volpone and his Suite at Paris.” Napoleon, in full Court costume, and wearing an enormous cocked hat and feathers, is seated on a chair, which is emblematical of his sovereignty of the world, and is surrounded by a Mameluke guard. Fox and his wife, both enormously fat, yet bowing and curtseying respectively, with infinite grace, are being introduced by O’Connor, who had, aforetime, been in treaty with the French Government for the invasion of Ireland. Erskine, in full forensic costume, bows, with his hand on his heart; and Lord and Lady Holland help to fill the picture. But the real account of his reception was very different (teste Mr. Trotter). “We reached the interior apartment, where Bonaparte, First Consul, surrounded by his generals, ministers, senators, and officers, stood between the second and third Consuls, Le Brun and Cambacérès, in the centre of a semicircle, at the head of the room! The numerous assemblage from the Salle des Ambassadeurs, formed into another semicircle, joined themselves to that, at the head of which stood the First Consul.... The moment the circle was formed, Bonaparte began with the Spanish Ambassador, then went to the American, with whom he spoke some time, and so on, performing his part with ease, and very agreeably, until he came to the English Ambassador, who, after the presentation of some English noblemen, announced to him Mr. Fox. He was a great deal flurried, and, after indicating considerable emotion, very rapidly said, ‘Ah, Mr. Fox! I have heard with pleasure of your arrival, I have desired much to see you; I have long admired in you the orator and friend of his country, who, in constantly raising his voice for peace, consulted that country’s best interests, those of Europe, and of the human race. The two great nations of Europe require peace; they have nothing to fear; they ought to understand and value one another. In you, Mr. Fox, I see, with much satisfaction, that great statesman who recommended peace, because there was no just object of war; who saw Europe desolated to no purpose, and who struggled for its relief.’ Mr. Fox said little, or rather nothing, in reply—to a complimentary address to himself, he always found invincible repugnance to answer—nor did he bestow one word of admiration or applause upon the extraordinary and elevated character who addressed him. A few questions and answers relative to Mr. Fox’s tour, terminated the interview.”
According to Article II. of the Treaty of Amiens, “All the prisoners made on one side and the other, as well by land as by sea, and the hostages carried off, or delivered up, during the war, and up to the present day, shall be restored, without ransom, in six weeks at the latest, to be reckoned from the day on which the ratifications of the present treaty are exchanged, and on paying the debts which they shall have contracted during their captivity.”
The invaluable M. Otto wrote the detenus a letter, in which, whilst congratulating them, he exhorted them to subdue all spirit of party, if, indeed, it had not already been effected by their years of suffering, and captivity, and cautioned them as to their behaviour on their return, telling them of the change for the better which they would not fail to observe. Glad, indeed, must these poor captives have been at the prospect of once more setting foot on La belle France; and that the English Government made no unnecessary delay in helping them to the consummation of their wishes, is evident, for, on the 10th of April, upwards of 1,000 of them were liberated from the depôt at Norman Cross, preparatory to their being conveyed to Dunkirk. The others—at least, all those who were willing and able to go—soon left England.