The King of the French, [OcT. 



very gratifying at the present moment. The war, therefore, is nearly 

 at an end ; and another blow, which I am meditating upon him and his 

 Bunjarries, in the Kentoor country, will most probably bring it to a 

 close. * * *" 



We find no regret for this horrible catastrophe. Not a syllable 

 of common commiseration for a set of poor slaves doing their duty, 

 such as it was, to their chieftain, and fighting for him against what 

 they doubtless considered an invasion of robbers. A fine mess-table 

 flourish on the subject, a veni-vidi-vici despatch to his correspon- 

 dent, may be, in the opinion of " the Honourable House," humanity, 

 and heroism, and sentimentality, and " all that sort of thing," as 

 Mathews says. But Heaven defend us from seeing the time when the 

 feelings and virtues of Englishmen shall have any thing to do with 

 military sentimentality ! 



Why, when Napoleon, who, however, never boasted of his humanity, 

 put twelve hundred Turks to death at Jaffa, all the world were 

 outrageous about it ! The whole vocabulary of execration was poured 

 on him pell-mell. All the newspapers were pouring down on the 

 " miscreant murderer, man of massacre, blood- drinker/' and so forth. 

 Sir Robert Wilson himself could not sleep in his bed without a night- 

 mare of Napoleon eating up mankind ! All the sycophants of govern- 

 ment strained their virgin fancies to find epithets of abhorrence for 

 the Corsican ; and among the rest, Sir John Stoddart, who is now 

 sent to roast in Malta (by anticipation^), was so peculiarly prolific in the 

 art of calling names, that he obtained a name for himself, and was 

 entitled, thenceforth and for ever, " Papirius Cursor." Yet, what had 

 Nap. done? 



The Corsican had to deal with a horde of barbarian Turks, fierce 

 fellows, whom nothing could keep to their word, and who were sure 

 to turn upon him the moment he let them go, and who had already so 

 turned on him. He had not to deal with a set of poor shivering devils, 

 whom a rope of straw could bind for life, and who would have asked 

 nothing better than never to hear the sound of a musket for the next 

 thousand years. The Corsican had to deal with a set of desperate 

 cut-throats, whom he had before made prisoners, and who, breaking their 

 promises not to fight against him, fought against him the moment they 

 could get a fresh cartridge. 



The Corsican was in the midst of a furious population, hating him 

 and his, like poison, and made implacable by every sense of religious, 

 personal, and national antipathy ; Moslems, the robbers of the desert. 

 He was not in the midst of a mob of peasants, poor rogues of rice-eaters, 

 accustomed to see his countrymen walk over their necks whenever it so 

 pleased a warlike governor ; and taking the visitation as tamely as they 

 would a shower of rain. Let the world judge. We are by no means 

 defending the Corsican. He was a murderer ; ferocious, base, and 

 brutal ; and he came to the natural end of ferocity, baseness, and bru- 

 tality. We say no more. 



Again 



" Colonel Montressor has been very successful in Bullum ; has BEAT, 

 BURNT, PLUNDERED, and DESTROYED in all parts of the country. But 

 I am still of opinion that nothing has been done which can tend effectually 

 to put an end to the rebellion in Bullum ; and that the near approach of 



