by Tom Anderson
So it was all the more surprising when he shot the first dragoon in the head.
He shot the next five dragoons in the head as well.
King Henry was fortunate enough to possess one of the very first revolving pistols in all the kingdom.
Unfortunately, there were still another twenty dragoons.
The Italian commanding officer, a Major Antonelli, arrested the King and his family. The King pleaded with him, though in a calm tone: “Do what you want with me. Have my head now, if you will – just let my wife and daughter go. She is not the heir to the throne. She is no threat to you.”
“I disagree,” Antonelli replied in heavily accented English, “and it is not the proper Republican way to dispense mob justice in the street,” he said without irony. “The protocols must be followed.”
The royal coach was turned around and escorted back to London. It is said, though there is no hard evidence to support the legend, that the whole cavalcade was surrounded by a continuous chorus of sighs and groans as it went back through Kingsland and Islington and then into the City of Westminster. The people could see whom the French had captured, but they were by now too afraid of Modigliani’s reprisals to respond.
Modigliani, unlike his subordinate, was all for a summary execution. But Gabin cautioned him, agreeing with Antonelli. Colonel Saissons, on the other hand, also demanded the King’s head to send a signal to the people of London, that this was the reward for Fox’s defiance.
A compromise was reached. A makeshift Republican people’s court was convened in the smoking ruins of St Paul’s Cathedral, headed by a sot of a judge who was a paid-up member of the Hellfire Club, and no friend of the Crown. It was a farce, of course, and the King did not even bother to defend himself. “Why should I strain myself concocting memorable rhetoric when you will not even write it down?” he said caustically – in a remark, ironically, that was recorded…
…a guilty verdict was a foregone conclusion, and on April 3rd the King, Queen and Princess Augusta, far too young to understand what was going on, were led out to the stage erected on the edge of Hyde Park, near the Cumberland Gate.[77] Upon it was no mere gibbet, nor indeed the headsman’s block, for Gabin had demanded a properly “scientific”, Republican, means of execution. And so it was. There might not have been room for horses on Surcouf’s and Lepelley’s fleet, but there had been room for a disassembled phlogisticateur chamber…
…the crowd was cowed by the second volley of musketry from Modigliani’s thugs, and the three royals were sealed inside the chamber. It was a cloudy day, and smoke was still hanging over the city, so there was no sunlight for the burning lens. Saissons personally volunteered to light the woodpile below the phlogisticateur. Smoke billowed inside the glass cylinder, and the terrible little cough of Princess Augusta echoed across the silent park. But not for long.
It was quick. Barely visible through the grey cloud, the Queen slumped even as she cried out for her daughter, and then there was only Radical King Henry. He stood, just barely, his hands stretched out against the glass, slowly sliding down the inside of the chamber. And then, with the last of his strength – and proving that he kept his intellect to the end – he managed to scrawl something on the smoked-up glass with his hand. Backwards, so it could be read from outside.
One word: REMEMBER.
And then the crowd charged…
…
…in the end only thirteen Franco-Italian soldiers died, against over a hundred Londoners, but the value of the propaganda victory had been lost. The phlogisticateur had been thrown down and shattered as the mob surged over Modigliani’s musketmen, the bodies of the royals vanished. There would be none of the ritual desecration that Joseph Dashwood had called for.
What happened to the bodies is unknown. Some say the crowd threw them in the Serpentine to protect them from the French, others that they were stolen away and buried in common graves, but with Anglican sacrament. There is no space here to discuss the always-credulous but ever-influential legend of Princess Augusta’s survival, which would rise to prominence a generation later.
What is known, however, is that Private Sedgwick was there in the crowd, having recovered and followed the cavalcade back to London. Sedgwick he cut off the King’s finger with his sabre, still bearing its ring. He took this for his token, went out to steal a horse, and then began the most famous ride in British history…
*
From: “Kingdom of Great Britain Parliamentary and Constitutional Records – FRE.II VOL.I 1807-1808”—
Fort Rockingham, April 6th. Yesterday in the Afternoon arrived a Messenger, with an Account, that our late most Gracious Sovereign King HENRY is removed by a violent death, in the 30th Year of His Age, and the 7th of His Reign: A Prince endowed with all Royal Virtues.
Upon the news of this melancholy event arriving at Doncaster, the surviving Lords of the Privy Council assembled yesterday at the Mansion-house, and gave orders for proclaiming his present Majesty:
We, therefore the Lords Spiritual and Temporal of the Realm, being here Assisted with those of His late Majesty's Privy Council, the Noblemen, Judges, Knights, Lawyers, Gentlemen, Freeholders, Merchants, Citizens, Yeomen, Seamen, and other Freemen of England, Do according to our Allegiance and Covenant by these Presents, Heartily, Joyfully, and Unanimously, Acknowledge and Proclaim FREDERICK, Prince of Wales, next Heir to his Father King HENRY, the Ninth of his name, (whose late Murder, and all Consenters thereunto, We from our Souls Abominate) to be Hereditary Birth-Right, and Lawful Successor, rightful and undoubted King FREDERICK THE SECOND of Great Britain, France and Ireland, Emperor of North America, Defender of the Faith and so forth; and that We shall constantly and Sincerely in our several Places and Callings, Defend and Maintain his Royal and Imperial Person, Crown, and Dignity, with our Estates and Lives, against all Opposers, whom hereby We Declare to be Enemies to his Majesty and all his Dominions: In Testimony whereof, we have caused these to be Published throughout all Counties and Corporations of this Realm, The Seventh Day of April, in the First Year of his Majesty’s Reign.
Beseeching God, by whom Kings and Queens do Reign, to Bless the Royal Prince Frederick the Second with long and happy Years to Reign over us.
Given at the Court at the Doncaster Mansion-house, this Seventh Day of April, 1807.
GOD SAVE THE KING.
…
Regency Act, 1807
WHEREAS in view of the present crisis and the absence and minority of HIS BRITANNIC MAJESTY, it is expedient to alter and amend the laws of regency of this Kingdom so as to bestow the full Powers of our LORD SOVEREIGN upon the COUNCIL OF REGENCY: Be it therefore enacted by the King's most Excellent Majesty, by and with the Advice and Consent of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Commons, in this present Parliament assembled, and by the Authority of the same, that the COUNCIL OF REGENCY shall, in the sadly departed absence of all named candidatures for the position of Regent to the Crown, shall have full Authority to select an Individual for the aforesaid Position. This Authority shall stand until the happy Return of our Rightful MONARCH…
Signed into law by the Lord Chancellor with the King’s seal, according to dubious precedent.
…
Confirmation of Regency Act, 1807
WHEREAS the Council of REGENCY has declared its intention to appoint His Grace the Duke of Marlborough (in whose Wisdom and illustrious Virtues His Majesty and His People do entirely confide) to be Regent of this Kingdom during His Majesty's absence; Be it enacted by the King's Most Excellent Majesty, by and with the Advice and Consent of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Commons, in Parliament assembled, and by the Authority of the same, that said Gentleman, His Grace the Duke of Marlborough, to be Regent of this Kingdom during His Absence, either by the Style of Guardian of the Realm of Great Britain, and His Majesty's Lieutenant within the same, or by any other Style or Title whatsoever, in every such Case Her Majesty shall, to all Intents and Purposes, be able and capable in Law to accept, hold, exercise
and enjoy the said Office, and effectually to do and perform all Acts, Matters and Things belonging thereunto, in such Manner, and for such Time as His Majesty, by any Letters Patent or Commission to be passed for that Purpose under the Great Seal of Great Britain, shall respectively from Time to Time direct and ordain, without taking, making or subscribing any Oath or Oaths, Declaration or Declarations, or doing any other Act or Acts whatsoever, required by the Laws and Statutes of this Realm to qualify any other Person to accept, hold, exercise or enjoy the said Office; any Law or Statute to the contrary thereof in any wise notwithstanding.
…
An Act for more effectually preventing Seditious Meetings and Assemblies (1807)
WHEREAS Assemblies of divers Persons, collected for the Purpose or under the Pretext of deliberating on Public Grievances, and of agreeing on Petitions, Complaints, Remonstrances, Declarations, or other Addresses, to the King, or to both Houses, or either House of Parliament, have of late been made use of to serve the Ends of Seditious and Treacherous Persons, to the great Danger of the future of this Kingdom, and may become the Means of producing Confusion and Calamities in the Nation: Be it enacted by the King’s most Excellent Majesty, by and with the Advice and Consent of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Commons, in this present Parliament assembled, and by the Authority of the same, That no Meeting of any County, Riding, or Division called by the Lord Lieutenant, Custos Rotulorum, or Sheriff of such County; or a Meeting called by the Convener of any County or Stewartry in that Part of Great Britain called Scotland; or a Meeting called by two or more Justices of the Peace… shall be holden, for the Purpose or on the Pretext of considering of or preparing any Petition, Complaint, Remonstrance, or Declaration, or other Address to the King, or his Duly Appointed Regent, or to both Houses…
*
From: “Pierre Boulanger: A Life” by Jean-Jacques Bonnaire (French original 1942, English translation 1949)—
While the situation in England seesawed back and forth and the destiny of a nation would be decided, the Marshal was in his element. He had had his doubts about L’Administrateur’s plan, but now what was done was done, and he was required to perform one last task: to finish the job that he had started more than ten years earlier. Once, he had saved the Republic by buying the neutrality of Flanders; now, he would renege on that deal.
Despite Lisieux’s failure to send the Surcouf/Lepelley fleet to the Dutch Republic to follow up on Villeneuve’s initial landings on the Frisian islands, the ploy at the heart of Le Grand Crabe was still moderately successful. With Admiral Carnbee’s fleet sunk, the Dutch were fearful of the French penetrating the Zuiderzee and descending on Amsterdam, and thus held back much of their forces to protect their own homeland. The Flemings, the folk of the nation that Charles Theodore of the Palatinate had hammered out of pragmatism and bequeathed to his eponymous son, were almost on their own.
Boulanger pursued a typically daring and risky strategy. The Flemings, no fools, had spent their years of peace beefing up their border forts, which were still mostly manned by Dutch soldiers. Therefore, Boulanger decided to try to bypass the forts altogether, not even leaving besieging forces to bottle up the Dutch. Instead he used escorts to directly defend his supply columns as they followed his troops. A speedy thrust, he decided, was more likely to deliver the results L’Admin needed than a slow and meticulous conquest. Besides, Boulanger feared that Lisieux had bitten off more than he could chew. With the situation deteriorating in Spain, Italy and Germany, not to mention the quixotic attack on Britain (news of which Boulanger had reacted to with frank disbelief), France could end up surrounded and outnumbered, just as she had been at the start of the Jacobin Wars. And so, then as now, he had to quickly knock out at least one of those enemies.
The Marshal therefore attacked through the eastern end of Wallonia, via Charleroi. He pushed back the disparate parts of Flemish forces that had yet to assemble, taking prisoners in the shock of the Guerre d’éclair. His goal was to reduce the number of soldiers his men would eventually face. Opposing him was the Flemish general Steffen von Wrede, of Württemberger extraction and with a deep grudge against the French.
Von Wrede decided to make his stand on a ridge near the village of La Belle Alliance,[78] in the path of Boulanger’s axis of advance – some have suggested the choice was in part because of the name. It is not so silly a suggestion as it sounds, for von Wrede’s chief problem was the fractiousness of his army. His force was approximately two-thirds Dutch-speaking (some of whom were from the Republic, others Flemings) and one-third French-speaking Walloons. The two did not get on particularly well at the best of times, and the lack of a common language seriously complicated orders and manoeuvres. Furthermore, there were plenty of whispers that the Walloons were ready to go over to the French, due to their common language and culture and the fact that they were typically given short shrift in Charles Theodore’s Greater Flanders, what with its decisive Germanic majority. Von Wrede initially intended to overcome this by dispersing his Walloon troops amid and among his more trustworthy Dutch and Flemings, but the language issue made it impossible to command such a mixed army.
His response was to give the Walloons the all-important centre and remind all his troops that if they started breaking, everyone would die. A risky strategy indeed; the audacious Boulanger himself would be proud. Unfortunately for von Wrede, Boulanger also had plans, not all of them purely military. Lisieux’s extensive work on propaganda and new means of disseminating it meant that Boulanger’s agents wrought a withering campaign against the Walloons in their tents in the three days before the battle. The most devastating French barrages were inflicted before any soldier even raised his weapon. The outcome of this was that several of the Walloon commanders stole away in secret to meet with Boulanger personally.
The Battle of La Belle Alliance was an anticlimax. When Boulanger sent his cavalry up the ridge, the Walloons holding the centre did not break into chaos, no… they turned in perfect order and began blasting away at their former allies, abetted by the French horse. Later historians would look back and place the ultimate origins of the Route des Larmes at this moment of betrayal.
The Dutch-Flemish side did not go down without small victories, their own cavalry wreaking havoc on some of Boulanger’s columns. But by the end of the day the Marshal had won another crown of victory, a neat parallel to his defence of Lille so many years before. Then as now, trickery had beaten brute force. The French took thirty thousand prisoners, so many that even Boulanger’s notoriously well-planned logistics struggled to cope with bringing them back behind the lines.
The road lay open to Brussels, and victory.
Chapter #71: For Want Of A Burned House
“The fires of nationalism burn deep within us all. Statehood is the manifest right of every people, every race, every nation. Some have claimed that the Revolution invented nationalism, but that is as absurd as saying that Cugnot invented steam. He simply brought it to the forefront. Certainly, any view which claims that nationalism is an artificial invention that can be suppressed is surely doomed to insignificance…”
- Pascal Schmidt, The Inevitable Germany (1832)
*
From: “The Pyrenean War” by Afonso Vasco de la Costa (1889)—
…by May 1806, it was clear that the French position in Iberia was untenable. The argument can certainly be made that if Jean de Lisieux had committed the necessary forces, Spain could have been held, despite the action of Spanish Kleinkriegers (or ‘guerillos’). However, matters were perpetually hampered by the fact that Lisieux had always seen the Spanish front as an irritating sideshow, evidenced by the fact that there had been no attempt to install a Spanish Latin Republic after the defeat of Philip VII. Lisieux viewed Spain as a mediaeval throwback and an embarrassment to the Latin Race, to be dealt with when time permitted; in his eyes Iberia had none of the promising nature of the artistic and industrial Padanian lands which Hoche had shaped into the Italian Latin Republic.
&n
bsp; This was certainly a missed opportunity, and one that we can only thank God the Jacobins never acted upon. In the confusion and power vacuum after the death of Philip VI and the civil war, it is possible that a sufficiently light-handed version of French Republicanism could have received the support of the Spanish people, earning kudos from bringing an end to the infighting and lawlessness that had prevailed due to the disputed succession. In practice, though, Lisieux was already withdrawing French troops from Spain even before Madrid fell in August 1802, sending them to be bogged down with Ney in Germany as that war escalated beyond all control.
The French occupiers nonetheless had several advantages in Spain: the lack of a common rallying figure among the Spanish people thanks to the claimant Charles IV’s unpopular deal with the Portuguese; the entry of Naples’ Charles VIII and VI who, confusingly, also claimed to be Charles IV and had an equally questionable alliance with English commanders such as Nelson; and the fact that the French had several able generals and administrators, foremost among them Claude Drouet.