English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon I. Volume 2 (of 2)
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Title: English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon I. Volume 2 (of 2)
Author: John Ashton
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH CARICATURE AND SATIRE ON NAPOLEON I. VOLUME 2 (OF 2) ***
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CARICATURE AND SATIRE
ON
NAPOLEON I.
VOL. II.
WORKS BY JOHN ASHTON.
A HISTORY OF THE CHAP-BOOKS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. With
nearly 400 Illustrations, engraved in facsimile of the
originals. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7_s._ 6_d._
SOCIAL LIFE IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE. From Original Sources.
With nearly 100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7_s._
6_d._
HUMOUR, WIT, AND SATIRE OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. With nearly
100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7_s._ 6_d._
London: CHATTO & WINDUS, Piccadilly.
ENGLISH
CARICATURE AND SATIRE
ON
NAPOLEON I.
BY
JOHN ASHTON
AUTHOR OF ‘SOCIAL LIFE IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE’ ETC.
[Illustration]
WITH 115 ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR
IN TWO VOLUMES--VOL. II.
London
CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY
1884
_All rights reserved_
LONDON: PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
AND PARLIAMENT STREET
CONTENTS
OF
THE SECOND VOLUME.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
PAGE
INVASION SQUIBS--CADOUDAL’S CONSPIRACY--EXECUTION OF THE DUC
D’ENGHIEN--CAPTAIN WRIGHT 1
CHAPTER XXXIX.
NAPOLEON PROCLAIMED EMPEROR--THE FLOTILLA--INVASION SQUIBS 12
CHAPTER XL.
NAPOLEON’S CORONATION 23
CHAPTER XLI.
NAPOLEON’S LETTER TO GEORGE THE THIRD--NAVAL VICTORIES--CROWNED
KING OF ITALY--ALLIANCE OF EUROPE--WITHDRAWAL OF THE ‘ARMY OF
ENGLAND’ 35
CHAPTER XLII.
SURRENDER OF ULM--BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR--PROPOSALS FOR PEACE--
DANIEL LAMBERT 45
CHAPTER XLIII.
NEGOTIATIONS FOR PEACE--DEATH OF FOX--NAPOLEON’S VICTORIOUS
CAREER--HIS PROCLAMATION OF A BLOCKADE OF ENGLAND 57
CHAPTER XLIV.
NAPOLEON’S POLISH CAMPAIGN--BATTLE OF EYLAU--MEETING OF THE
EMPERORS AT TILSIT--CAPTURE OF THE DANISH FLEET 65
CHAPTER XLV.
FRENCH ENTRY INTO PORTUGAL--BLOCKADE OF ENGLAND--FLIGHT OF THE
PORTUGUESE ROYAL FAMILY--THE PENINSULAR WAR--FLIGHT OF KING
JOSEPH 75
CHAPTER XLVI.
PENINSULAR WAR, _continued_--MEETING AT ERFURT 87
CHAPTER XLVII.
RETREAT TO CORUNNA--THE BROKEN BRIDGE OVER THE DANUBE--WAGRAM--
JOSEPHINE’S DIVORCE 96
CHAPTER XLVIII.
FAILURE OF EXPEDITIONS TO SPAIN, PORTUGAL, AND HOLLAND--NAPOLEON’S
WOOING OF, AND MARRIAGE WITH, MARIA LOUISA--BIRTH OF THE KING OF
ROME--NAPOLEON IN THE NURSERY 110
CHAPTER XLIX.
A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT--NAPOLEON’S TOUR IN GERMANY--DECLARATION OF
WAR WITH RUSSIA--ENTRY INTO WILNA--SMOLENSKO--BORODINO--ENTRY
INTO MOSCOW--BURNING OF THE CITY--NAPOLEON’S RETREAT 123
CHAPTER L.
REJOICINGS IN ENGLAND OVER THE RESULT OF NAPOLEON’S RUSSIAN
CAMPAIGN--THE EMPEROR’S RETURN TO FRANCE 138
CHAPTER LI.
THE ARMISTICE--BATTLE OF VITTORIA--DEFEAT AT LEIPSIC--THE BRIDGE
BLOWN UP 150
CHAPTER LII.
NAPOLEON’S RETURN TO PARIS--HIS RECEPTION 164
CHAPTER LIII.
L’HOMME ROUGE--NAPOLEON’S SUPERSTITION 172
CHAPTER LIV.
NAPOLEON AGAIN TAKES THE FIELD--HIS DEFEATS--THE ALLIES AT
PARIS--NAPOLEON ABDICATES--HIS ATTEMPT TO POISON HIMSELF 181
CHAPTER LV.
NAPOLEON LEAVES FOR ELBA--HIS RECEPTION THERE 194
CHAPTER LVI.
NAPOLEON AT ELBA--HIS OCCUPATIONS WHILST THERE--FAITH BROKEN WITH
HIM--THE VIOLET--GENERAL REJOICINGS AT HIS EXILE 203
CHAPTER LVII.
NAPOLEON’S ESCAPE FROM ELBA--UNIVERSAL CONSTERNATION--FLIGHT OF
THE BRITISH FROM FRANCE--CARICATURES ON HIS RETURN 214
CHAPTER LVIII.
PREPARATIONS FOR WAR--THE SHORT CAMPAIGN--WATERLOO--NAPOLEON’S
ABDICATION 225
CHAPTER LIX.
NAPOLEON A PRISONER--SENT TO THE ISLE OF AIX--NEGOTIATIONS FOR
SURRENDER--GOES ON BOARD THE ‘BELLEROPHON’ 233
CHAPTER LX.
NAPOLEON ON BOARD THE ‘BELLEROPHON’--ARRIVAL AT TORBAY--CURIOSITY
OF THE PEOPLE--THE ENGLISH GOVERNMENT DETERMINE TO SEND HIM TO
ST. HELENA 239
CHAPTER LXI.
NAPOLEON IS SENT ON BOARD THE ‘NORTHUMBERLAND’--HE PROTESTS
AGAINST HIS EXILE--PUBLIC OPINION AS TO HIS TREATMENT 250
CHAPTER LXII.
VOYAGE TO ST. HELENA--CESSATION OF CARICATURES 259
INDEX 269
ENGLISH CARICATURE AND SATIRE
ON
NAPOLEON THE FIRST.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
INVASION SQUIBS--CADOUDAL’S CONSPIRACY--EXECUTION OF THE DUC
D’ENGHIEN--CAPTAIN WRIGHT.
The Volunteer movement was well shown in a print by A. M., November
1803: ‘Boney attacking the English Hives, or the Corsican caught
at last in the Island.’ There are many hives, the chief of which
has a royal crown on its top, and is labelled ‘Royal London Hive.
Threadneedle Street Honey’--which Napoleon is attacking, sword in hand.
George the Third, as Bee Master, stands behind the hives, and says,
‘What! what! you plundering little Corsican Villain, have you come to
rob my industrious Bees of their Honey? I won’t trust to your oath.
Sting, Sting the Viper to the heart my good Bees, let Buz, Buz be the
Word in the Island.’ The bees duly obey their master’s request, and
come in clouds over Napoleon, who has to succumb, and pray, kneeling,
‘Curse those Bees they sting like Scorpions. I did not think this
Nation of Shopkeepers could sting so sharp. Pray good Master of the
Bees, do call them off, and I will swear by all the three creeds which
I profess, Mahometan, Infidel, and Christian, that I will never disturb
your Bees again.’
‘Selling the Skin before the Bear is caught, or cutting up the Bull
before he is killed,’ is by I. Cruikshank (December 21, 1803), and
represents a Bull reposing calmly on the English shore, whilst on
the opposite or French coast is Bonaparte, Talleyrand, and several
Generals. Bonaparte, pointing to the Bull, says: ‘I shall take the
Middle part, because it contains the Heart and Vitals--Talley, you may
take the head, because you have been accustomed to take the Bull by the
horns.’ Britannia stands, fully armed, behind the Bull, by an ‘alarm
post,’ on which hangs a bell, ‘British Valor,’ which she is preparing
to ring: ‘When these Mounseers have settled their plan, I will just
rouse the Bull, and then see who will be cut up first.’
‘New Bellman’s Verses for Christmas 1803!’ is an extremely inartistic
work of an unknown man (December 1803); the only thing worth quoting
about it are these verses:--
This little Boney says he’ll come
At Merry Christmas time,
But that I say is all a hum,
Or I no more will rhyme.
Some say in wooden house he’ll glide,
Some say in air Balloon,
E’en those who airy schemes deride,
Agree his coming soon.
Now honest people list to me,
Though Income is but small,
I’ll bet my Wig to one Pen--ney,
He does not come at all.
‘More than expected, or too many for Boney’ (artist unknown, December
1803), shows him as an Ass, on whose back is John Bull, Russia,
Prussia, and Germany. Says Russia, ‘We all depend upon you Mr.
Bull--give him a little more spurring, and we’ll soon make him feel
the Rowels.’ John mildly expostulates with his quadruped: ‘Come--come,
don’t be sulky--if you won’t go in a snaffle, you must be forced to go
in a curb.’
Dean Swift’s immortal book did yeoman’s service to the caricaturists,
and we find it again employed in a print by West, December 1803: ‘The
Brobdingnag Watchman preventing Gulliver’s landing.’ It is very feeble,
and merely consists of George the Third as a watchman turning the light
of the ‘Constitutional Lanthorn’ upon Bonaparte and his companions, who
are attempting a landing.
Another print, by West (December 1803), shows ‘Mr. and Mrs. Bull giving
Buonaparte a Christmas Treat!’ The latter is bound to a post in sight
of, but beyond reach of, the national fare of this festival. John Bull
says, holding up a piece of beef, in derision, ‘Yes, yes--the Beef
is very good, so is the pudding too--but the deuce a morsel do you
get of either, Master Boney.’ Mrs. Bull too, who is drinking from a
frothing tankard, says: ‘Your health Master Boney, wishing you a merry
Christmas,’ but offers him none.
An unknown artist gives an undated picture of ‘a Cock and Bull Story.’
Napoleon, as the Gallic Cock, on his side of the Channel, sings
Cock a dudle doo, I shall come over to you.
I’ll fight true game, and crow my Fame,
And make you all look blue.
John Bull, who is peacefully reposing in his pastures rejoins:--
You impertinent Cock, I’ll have you to know
On this side the Brook, you never shall Crow,
And if you’re not quick, and give up your jaw,
I’ll teach you the nature of English Club Law.
In 1803 was published an amusing squib, in which the names of various
plays are very ingeniously made into a patriotic address:--
THE GREEN ROOM OPINION
OF THE
THREATENED INVASION.
Should the Modern _Tamerlane_ revive the tragedy of _England
Invaded_, and, in the progress of his _Wild goose Chace_,
escape the _Tempest_, he will find that, with us, it is
_Humours of the Age_ to be _Volunteers_. He will prove that we
have many a _Plain Dealer_, who will tear off _the Mask_, under
which _the Hypocrite_, this _Fool of Fortune_, this _Choleric
man_, has abused a credulous world. Should he, to _a Wonder_,
attempt a _Trip to Scarborough_, to set them _all alive at
Portsmouth_, or to get _on both sides of the gutter_, he will
assuredly meet a _Chapter of Accidents_ on his _Road to Ruin_;
for _Britannia and the Gods are in Council_, to make him a
_Castle Spectre_: he will, too late, discover _the Secret_ of
_Who’s the Dupe_; and that it is _the Custom of the Country_ of
_John Bull_, to shew _the Devil to pay_ to any _Busybody_, who
seeks to enforce on us _Reformation_.
This _Double Dealer_, who has excited dismay _Abroad and at
Home_, and gained _Notoriety_ by the magnitude of the mischiefs
he has achieved, still presumes, by _the Wheel of Fortune_,
like another _Pizarro_, to satiate his _Revenge_, and to learn
_How to grow Rich_, by renewing the distressing scenes of
_the Siege of Damascus_; until amongst the desolated ruins of
our City, he should establish himself like _a London Hermit_.
That _he Would if he Could_, is past all doubt; but if he will
take _a Word to the Wise_, from _a Man of the World_, he will
believe _He’s much to blame_, and _All in the Wrong_; for _the
Doctor and the Apothecary_ are in _the Committee_; and by good
_Management_, are forward in _the Rehearsal_ of the lively
Comedy of _the Way to keep Him_ under _Lock and Key_. They may
not be able to produce for him _a Cure for the Heartache_, or
for _the Vapourish Man_, but they will shew him at least _Cheap
Living_, and prove that he has sown his _Wild Oats_, in a
_Comedy of Errors_.
_The Poor Soldier_, whose generous heart expands to render
_Love for Love_, is like the gallant and gay Lothario, armed
for either field, and prepared to give _Measure for Measure_;
and to convert the _Agreeable Surprize_, which the Acre
_Runaway_ anticipates in _the Camp_, from _the Beaux Stratagem_
into _a Tale of Mystery_. _Appearances are against him_, as
well as _the Chances_; but he is a desperate _Gamester_; and
although his schemes of Conquest will end in _Much ado about
Nothing_, like a _Midsummer’s night’s Dream_, or _a Winter’s
Tale_, yet he is _Heir at Law_ to our hate; and _Every one has
his Fault_, if he does not unite to revive the splendid scenes
of _Edward the Black Prince_, and _Henry the Fifth_, when
France trembled beneath our arms at Cressy and Agincourt; and
give to this unprincipled _Bajazet_ an exit corresponding with
his crimes.
A NEW SONG OF OLD SAYINGS.
Bonaparte the Bully resolved to come over,
With flat-bottomed Wherries, from Calais to Dover;
No perils to him in the billows are found,
‘_For if born to be hang’d, he can never be drown’d_.’
From a Corsican dunghill this fungus did spring,
He was soon made a Captain and would be a King;
But the higher he rises the more he does evil,
‘_For a Beggar, on horseback, will ride to the Devil_.’
To seize all that we have and then clap us in jail,
To devour our victuals, and drink all our ale,
And to grind us to dust is the Corsican’s will--
‘_For we know all is grist that e’er comes to his mill_.’
To stay quiet, at home, the First Consul can’t bear
Or, mayhap, ‘_he would have other fish to fry there_’;
So, as fish of that sort does not suit his desire,
‘_He leaps out of the frying pan, into the fire_.’
He builds barges and cock boats, and craft without end
And numbers the boats which to England he’ll send;
But in spite of his craft, and his barges and boats
‘_He still reckons, I think, without one of his hosts_.’
He rides upon France and he tramples on Spain,
And holds Holland and Italy tight in a Chain;
These he hazards for more, though I can’t understand,
‘_How one bird in the bush is worth two in the hand_.’
He trusts that his luck will all danger expel,
‘_But the pitcher is broke that goes oft to the well_’;
And when our brave soldiers this Bully surround,
‘_Though he’s thought_ Penny Wise, _he’ll be foolish in_ Pound.’
France can never forget that our fathers of yore,
Used to pepper and baste her at sea and at shore;
And we’ll speedily prove to this mock-Alexander,
‘_What was sauce for the goose, will be sauce for the Gander_.’
I have heard and have read in a great many books,
Half the Frenchmen are Tailors, and t’other half Cooks;--
We’ve fine Trimmings in store for the Knights of the Cloth,
‘_And the Cooks that come here, will but spoil their own broth_.’
It is said that the French are a numerous race,
And perhaps it is true--for ‘_ill weeds grow apace_’;
But come when they will, and as many as dare,
‘_I expect they’ll arive a day after the fair_.’
To invade us more safely these warriors boast
They will wait till a storm drives our fleet from the Coast,
That ’twill be an ‘_ill wind_,’ will be soon understood,
For a wind _that blows_ Frenchmen, ‘_blows nobody good_.’
They would treat Britain worse than they’ve treated Mynheer,
But they’ll find ‘_they have got the wrong sow by the ear_.’
Let them come then in swarms, by this Corsican lead,
And I warrant ‘_we’ll hit the right nail on the head_.’
The year 1804 was a most eventful one for Napoleon. With all his hatred
of England, and his wish for her invasion, he was powerless in that
matter, and had plenty to employ him at home. The English had got
used to their bugbear the flotilla, and the caricaturist had a rest.
Napoleon had his hands full. First and foremost was that conspiracy
against his life and government, in which Georges Cadoudal, Moreau, and
Pichegru figure so prominently, and which entailed the execution of the
Duc d’Enghien.
The Bourbon house he so detested,
He had the Duke d’Enghien arrested;
A sort of trial then took place,
And sentence passed--the usual case.
’Tis said that Boney chose a spot,
To see the gallant fellow shot.
Whatever may have been Napoleon’s conduct in this affair, these two
last lines are undoubtedly false. The duke had been residing at
Ettenheim, in the duchy of Baden, and was thought to be there in
readiness to head the Royalists in case of need, that his hunting
was but a pretext to cover flying visits to Paris, and that he was
the person whom Georges Cadoudal and his fellow conspirators always
received bareheaded. He was seized, brought to Paris, and lodged in the
Château de Vincennes. A few hours’ rest, and he was roused at midnight
to go before his judges. It was in vain he pleaded the innocence of his
occupations, and begged to have an interview with the First Consul; yet
he declared he had borne arms against France, and his wish to serve in
the war on the English side against France; and owned that he received
a pension of one hundred and fifty guineas a month from England. He
was found guilty and condemned to death, and two hours afterwards
was led out into the ditch of the fortress, and there shot, a priest
being refused him. O’Meara, describing a conversation with Napoleon on
this subject, says: ‘I now asked if it were true that Talleyrand had
retained a letter written by the Duc d’Enghien to him until two days
after the duke’s execution? Napoleon’s reply was, “It is true; the
duke had written a letter offering his services, and asking a command
in the Army from me, which that _scelerato_, Talleyrand, did not make
known until two days after his execution.” I observed that Talleyrand,
by his culpable concealment of the letter, was virtually guilty of the
death of the duke. “Talleyrand,” replied Napoleon, “is a _briccone_,
capable of any crime. I,” continued he, “caused the Duc d’Enghien to
be arrested in consequence of the Bourbons having landed assassins in
France to murder me. I was resolved to let them see that the blood
of one of their princes should pay for their attempts, and he was
accordingly tried for having borne arms against the republic, found
guilty, and shot, according to the existing laws against such a crime.”’
Ansell (June 2, 1804) gives us ‘The Cold Blooded Murderer, or the
Assassination of the Duc d’Enghien,’ in which the duke is represented
as being bound to a tree, a soldier on either side holding a torch,
whilst Napoleon is running his sword into his heart. D’Enghien bravely
cries out, ‘Assassin! your Banditti need not cover my Eyes, I fear
not Death, tho’ perhaps a guiltless countenance may appall your
bloodthirsty soul.’ Napoleon, whilst stabbing his victim, says: ‘Now
de whole World shall know de courage of de first grand Consul, dat I
can kill my enemies in de Dark, as well as de light, by Night as well
as by Day,--dare--and dare I had him--hark, vat noise was dat? ah!
’tis only de Wind--dare again, and dare--Now I shall certainly be made
Emperor of de Gulls.’[1] Devils are rejoicing over the deed, and are
bearing a crown. They say: ‘This glorious deed does well deserve a
Crown, thus let us feed his wild ambition, untill some bold avenging
hand shall make him all our own.’
A Captain Wright figures in this plot; and, as he was an Englishman,
and his name is frequent both in the caricature and satire of the day,
some notice of him must be given. He was a lieutenant in the Royal
Navy, and somehow got mixed up with this conspiracy. He took Georges
Cadoudal and others on board either at Deal or Hastings, and crossed
over to Beville, where there was a smuggler’s rope let down from an
otherwise inaccessible cliff. By means of this they were drawn up, and
went secretly to Paris. The plot failed, and they were thrown into
prison, Wright being afterwards captured at sea. Cadoudal went to the
scaffold, Pichegru was found strangled in his cell; and Wright, the
English said, after being tortured in prison, to compel him to give
evidence against his companions, was assassinated by order of Napoleon.
The latter, however, always indignantly denied it, saying that Captain
Wright committed suicide. In O’Meara’s book he denies it several times,
and an extract or two will be worth noting. ‘In different nights of
August, September, and December 1803 and January 1804, Wright landed
Georges, Pichegru, Rivière, Costa, St. Victor, La Haye, St. Hilaire,
and others at Beville. The four last named had been accomplices in the
former attempt to assassinate me by means of the infernal machine, and
most of the rest were well known to be chiefs of the Chouans,’ &c.
‘There was something glorious in Wright’s death. He preferred taking
away his own life, to compromising his government.’ ‘Napoleon in very
good spirits. Asked many questions about the horses that had won at
the races, and the manner in which we trained them; how much I had won
or lost; and about the ladies, &c. “You had a large party yesterday,”
continued he. “How many bottles of wine? Drink, your eyes look like
drink,” which he expressed in English. “Who dined with you?” I
mentioned Captain Wallis amongst others. “What! is that the lieutenant
who was with Wright?” I replied in the affirmative. “What does he say
about Wright’s death?” I said, “He states his belief that Wright was
murdered by orders of Fouché, for the purpose of ingratiating himself
with you. That six or seven weeks previous, Wright had told him that
he expected to be murdered like Pichegru, and begged of him never to
believe that he would commit suicide; that he had received a letter
from Wright, about four or five weeks before his death, in which he
stated that he was better treated, allowed to subscribe to a library,
and to receive newspapers.” Napoleon replied, “I will never allow that
Wright was put to death by Fouché’s orders. If he was put to death
privately, it must have been by my orders, and not by those of Fouché.
Fouché knew me too well. He was aware that I would have had him hanged
directly, if he attempted it. By this officer’s own words, Wright was
not _au secret_, as he says he saw him some weeks before his death,
and that he was allowed books and newspapers. Now, if it had been in
contemplation to make away with him, he would have been put _au secret_
for months before, in order that people might not be accustomed to see
him for some time previous, as I thought this * * * intended to do in
November last. Why not examine the gaolers and turnkeys? The Bourbons
have every opportunity of proving it, if such really took place. But
your ministers themselves do not believe it. The idea I have of what
was my opinion at that time about Wright, is faint; but, as well as
I can recollect, it was that he ought to have been brought before a
military commission, for having landed spies and assassins, and the
sentence executed within forty-eight hours. What dissuaded me from
doing so, I cannot clearly recollect. Were I in France at this moment,
and a similar occurrence took place, the above would be my opinion, and
I would write to the English Government: ‘Such an officer of yours has
been tried for landing brigands and assassins on my territories. I have
caused him to be tried by a military commission. He has been condemned
to death. The sentence has been carried into execution. If any of my
officers in your prisons have been guilty of the same, try, and execute
them. You have my full permission and acquiescence. Or, if you find,
hereafter, any of my officers landing assassins on your shores, shoot
them instantly.’”’
CHAPTER XXXIX.
NAPOLEON PROCLAIMED EMPEROR--THE FLOTILLA--INVASION SQUIBS.
The most important event of the year to Napoleon himself, was his
being made Emperor. Although First Consul for life, with power to
appoint his successor, it did not satisfy his ambition. He would fain
be Emperor, and that strong will, which brooked no thwarting, took
measures to promote that result. In the Senate M. Curée moved, ‘that
the First Consul be invested with the hereditary power, under the title
of Emperor,’ and this motion was but feebly fought against by a few
members, so that at last an address was drawn up, beseeching Napoleon
to yield to the wishes of the nation. A _plébiscite_ was taken on the
subject, with the result that over three millions and a half people
voted for it, and only about two thousand against it. On May 18,
Cambacérès, at the head of the Senate, waited upon Napoleon, at St.
Cloud, with an address detailing the feelings and wishes of the nation.
It is needless to say that Napoleon ‘accepted the Empire, in order that
he might labour for the happiness of the French.’
The brave First Consul now began
To set on foot his fav’rite plan;
The Senate, when the door was clos’d,
As Emperor of France, propos’d
Brave Boney, and his heirs, and then
They call’d him worthiest of men;
So much accustom’d down to cram a lie,
They prais’d, too, his _illustrious_ family.
What _sweet_ addresses, what _kind_ answers,
A proof mankind, too, oft in France errs;
All these were equally prepared
In Boney’s closet, ’tis declared.
Addresses from the army came,
Which were in tendency the same.
Nap manag’d matters with facility,
Such was the people’s instability.
A deputation waited on him,
And by _solicitation_ won him;
In a fine sentimental speech,
Began they Boney to beseech,
That he would graciously agree
The Emperor of France to be;
Elected by the general voice,
They said he was the people’s Choice,
And begg’d the title to confer
On one who was not _prone to err_.
Nap much humility pretended,
But to accept it _condescended_.
The business settled thus, _nem. con._
He put th’ imperial purple on,
More gay appear’d his lovely wife,
Than e’er she did in all her life;
It was enough to make her grin,
As she was Empress Josephine.
Nap now sent letters by the dozens,
To the French Bishops, his new _cousins_,
Informing them that Heav’n, indeed,
His elevation had decreed;
And, trusting for the same, that they
Wou’d order a thanksgiving day.
As Nap--’twas wise we must allow--
A Roman Catholic was now;
A prayer had been, to this intent,
By the Pope’s legate to them sent.
Moreover, all the Christian Nations,
Received the same notifications.
Soon made they every preparation
For a most brilliant Coronation.
The flotilla, on the other side of the Channel, was still looked upon
with uneasiness, and watched with jealous care. Still, we find that
it was only at the commencement of the year that it was caricatured,
Napoleon’s being made Emperor proving a more favourite subject; and,
besides, a feeling sprung up that there was not much mischief in it.
One of the most singular caricatures, in connection with the projected
invasion, that I have met with is by Ansell, January 6, 1804. ‘The
Coffin Expedition, or Boney’s Invincible Armada Half seas over.’ The
flotilla is here represented as gunboats, in the shape of coffins: all
the crews, naval and military, wearing shrouds; whilst at the masthead
of each vessel is a skull with _bonnet rouge_. It is needless to say
they are represented as all foundering, one man exclaiming, ‘Oh de
Corsican Bougre was make dese Gun boats on purpose for our Funeral.’
Some British vessels are in the mid distance, and two tars converse
thus: ‘I say Messmate, if we dont bear up quickly, there will be
nothing left for us to do.’ ‘Right, Tom, and I take them there things
at the Masthead to be Boney’s Crest, a skull without brains.’
‘Dutch Embarkation; or Needs must when the Devil drives!!’ (artist
unknown, January 1804) represents Bonaparte, with drawn sword,
driving fat, solid Dutchmen each into a gun-boat about as big as a
walnut-shell. One remonstrates: ‘D--n such Liberty, and D--n such a
Flotilla!! I tell you we might as well embark in Walnut Shells.’ But
Bonaparte replies: ‘Come, come, Sir, no grumbling, I insist on your
embarking and destroying the modern Carthage--don’t you consider the
liberty you enjoy--and the grand flotilla that is to carry you over!’
As good a one as any of Gillray’s caricatures is the King of
Brobdingnag and Gulliver, February 10, 1804--scene, ‘Gulliver
manœuvring with his little boat in the cistern.’ The king and queen
(excellent likenesses) and two princesses are looking on at Bonaparte
sailing, whilst the young princes are blowing, to make a wind for him.
Lord Salisbury stands behind the royal chair, and beefeaters and ladies
of the court complete the scene. This, however, is specially described
as ‘designed by an amateur, etched by Gillray.’
[Illustration: THE KING OF BROBDINGNAG AND GULLIVER.]
‘A French Alarmist, or John Bull looking out for the Grand Flotilla!!’
(West, March 1804.) He is on the coast, accompanied by his bull-dog,
and armed with a sword, looking through a telescope. Behind him is
a Frenchman, who is saying, ‘Ah! Ah! Monsieur Bull,--dere you see
our Grande flotilla--de grande gon boats--ma foi--dere you see em
sailing for de grand attack on your nation--dere you see de Bombs and
de Cannons--Dere you see de Grande Consul himself at de head of his
Legions. Dere you see----’ But John Bull replies, ‘Mounseer, all this I
cannot see--because ’tis not in sight.’
We now come to the caricatures relating to the Empire.
A print, attributed to Rowlandson (May 1804?), shows ‘A Great Man
on his Hobby Horse, a design for an Intended Statue on the Place la
Liberté at Paris.’ Napoleon is riding _the high horse_ ‘Power,’ which
prances on a Globe.
‘A new French Phantasmagoria’ is by an unknown artist (May 1804). John
Bull cannot realise the fact of Napoleon being Emperor, but stares
at him through an enormous pair of spectacles. ‘Bless me, what comes
here--its time to put on my large spectacles, and tuck up my trowsers.
Why, surely, it can’t be--it is Bonny too, for all that. Why what game
be’st thee at now? acting a play mayhap. What hast thee got on thy
head there? always at some new freak or other.’ Bonaparte, in imperial
robes, and with crown and sceptre, holds out his hand, and says: ‘What!
my old Friend, Mr. Bull, don’t you know me?’
Ansell gives us (May 28, 1804) ‘The Frog and the Ox, or The Emperor of
the _Gulls_ in his stolen gear.’ Napoleon, very small, is depicted as
capering about in imperial robes, with an enormous crown made of coins,
daggers, and a cup of poison; his sceptre has for its top a guillotine.
George the Third is regarding him through his glass. Napoleon says,
‘There Brother! there! I shall soon be as Big as you, it’s a real
Crown, but it’s cursed heavy, my Head begins to ache already. I say
Can’t we have a grand meeting like Henry the 8th and Francis the 1st?’
King George cannot quite make out the mannikin. ‘What have we got
here, eh? A fellow that has stolen some Dollars, and made a Crown of
them, eh? and then wants to pass them off for Sterling; it won’t go, it
won’t pass Fellow.’ Beside the King is a bull, and behind Napoleon is
a frog, who is trying to swell to the bull’s proportions, whilst John
Bull laughingly remarks, ‘Dang it, why a looks as tho a’d burst: a’l
nerr be zo big as one of our Oxen tho.’
‘Injecting blood Royal, or Phlebotomy at St. Cloud,’ shews Napoleon,
in his new phase of power, having the blood of a Royal Tiger infused
into his veins. He says, ‘It’s a delightful operation! I feel the
Citizenship oozing out at my fingers’ ends.--let all the family
be plentifully supplied! Carry up a Bucket full to the Empress
immediately!!!’
In June 1804 I. Cruikshank drew a picture called ‘the Right Owner.’
Louis the Eighteenth appears to Napoleon, and, pointing to his crown,
says, ‘That’s Mine.’ Napoleon, who is seated on his throne, armed with
sword, pistols, and dagger, shrinks back in violent alarm, exclaiming,
‘Angels and Ministers of Grace defend me.’
‘A Proposal from the New Emperor’ is a caricature by Ansell (July 9,
1804). He comes, cap, or rather crown, in hand, to John Bull, saying,
‘My Dear Cousin Bull--I have a request to make you--the good people
whom I govern, have been so lavish of their favors towards me--that
they have exhausted every title in the Empire--therefore, in addition,
I wish you to make me a Knight of Malta.’ John Bull replies, ‘I’ll see
you d--d first!! You know I told you so before.’
‘The Imperial Coronation’ is a very inartistic sketch by an unknown
artist (July 31, 1804). Napoleon is being crowned by the Pope, who
says, ‘In a little time you shall see him, and in a little time you
shall not see him,’ and then lets down the crown, with cruel force, by
a rope and pulley from the gibbet from which it has been suspended.
Its weight crushes him through the platform on which he has been
sitting, and he exclaims, ‘My dear Talleyrand, save me; My throne is
giving way. I am afraid the foundation is rotten, and wants a deal of
mending.’ Talleyrand sympathisingly answers, ‘Oh, Master, Master, the
Crown is too heavy for you.’
I. Cruikshank drew ‘Harlequin’s last Skip’ (August 23, 1804). Bonaparte
is represented in a harlequin’s suit, enormous cocked hat, boots, and
a blackened face. His sword is broken, and, with upraised hands, in a
supplicating attitude, he exclaims, ‘O Sacre Dieu! John Bull is de very
Devil.’ John Bull, with upraised cudgel, says: ‘Mr. Boney Party, you
have changed Characters pretty often and famously well, and skipped
about at a precious rate. But this Invasion hop is your last--we have
got you snug--the devil a trap to get through here--Your conjuration
sword has lost its Power; you have lied till you are black in the face,
and there is no believing a word you say--so now you shall carry John
Bull’s mark about with you, as every swaggerer should.’
‘British men of war towing in the Invader’s Fleet,’ artist unknown
(September 25, 1804), shows a number of English sailors seated on the
necks of French and Dutch men, whom they are guiding over the sea to
England. One sailor, evidently a Scotchman, is pulling his opponent’s
ears; the poor Frenchman cries out, ‘Oh Morbleu! de salt water make
me sick; O mine pauvre Ears!’ but his ruthless conqueror has no pity,
‘Deil tak your soul, ye lubberly Loon, gin ye dinna mak aw sail,
I’ll twist off your lugs.’ An English sailor rides the redoubtable
Boney, and pulls his nose: ‘Steady Master Emperor, if you regard
your Imperial Nose. Remember a British Tar has you in tow--No more
of this wonderful, this great and mighty nation who frighten all the
world with their buggabo invasion.’ But Boney pleads, ‘Oh! mercy, take
me back, me will make you all Emperors; it will be Boney here, Boney
there, and Boney everywhere, and me wish to my heart me was dead.’
An Irish sailor on a Dutchman yells out, ‘By Jasus, my Jewel, these
bum boats are quizzical toys and sure--heave ahead, you bog trotting
spalpeen, or I shall be after keel hauling you. Huzza, Huzza, Huzza, my
boys, Huzza! ’Tis Britannia boys, Britannia rules the waves.’ Another
Dutchman complains, ‘O Mynheer Jan English you vill break my back.’ But
the relentless sailor who bestrides him takes out his tobacco-box, and
says, ‘Now for a quid of comfort! pretty gig for Jack Tars. Good bye to
your bombast, we’re going to Dover, Was ever poor Boney, so fairly done
over.’
A most remarkable caricature by Ansell (October 25, 1804) shows to what
length party spirit will lead men--making truth entirely subservient to
party purposes. It probably paid to vilify Napoleon, and consequently
this picture was produced. It is called ‘Boney’s Inquisition. Another
Specimen of his Humanity on the person of Madame Toussaint.’ Whatever
may be our opinion of his treatment of Toussaint l’Ouverture, the
only record we have in history (and I have expended much time and
trouble in trying to find out the truth of the matter) is that his
family, who were brought to France at the same time as himself, took up
their residence at Agen, where his wife died in 1816. His eldest son,
Isaac, died at Bordeaux in 1850. Now to describe the picture. Madame
l’Ouverture is depicted as being bound to a stretcher nearly naked,
whilst three Frenchmen are tearing her breasts with red-hot pincers.
Another is pulling out her finger-nails with a similar instrument. She
exclaims: ‘Oh Justice! Oh Humanity, Oh Deceitfull Villain, in vain you
try to blot the Character of the English: ’tis their magnanimity which
harrasses your dastard soul.’ One of the torturers says: ‘Eh! Diable!
Why you no confess noting?’ Napoleon is seated on his throne, watching
the scene with evident delight, chuckling to himself, ‘This is Luxury.
Jaffa, Acre, Toulon and D’Enghien was nothing to it. Slave, those
pincers are not half hot, save those nails for my Cabinet, and if she
dies, we can make a confession for her.’
[Illustration]
‘The Genius of France nursing her darling’ is by a new hand, T. B.
d----lle (November 26, 1804). ‘France, whilst dandling her darling,
and amusing him with a rattle, sings--
There’s a little King Pippin
He shall have a Rattle and Crown;
Bless thy five Wits,[2] my Baby,
Mind it don’t throw itself down!
Hey my Kitten, my Kitten, &c.
An unknown artist (December 11, 1804) gives us ‘The death of Madame
Republique.’ Madame lies a corpse on her bed. Sieyès, as nurse, dandles
the new emperor. John Bull, spectacles on nose, inquires, ‘Pray Mr.
Abbé Sayes--what was the cause of the poor lady’s Death? She seem’d at
one time in a tolerable thriving way.’ Sieyès replies, ‘She died in
Child bed, Mr. Bull, after giving birth to this little Emperor.’
‘The Loyalist’s Alphabet, an Original Effusion,’ by James Bisset
(September 3, 1804), consists of twenty-four small engravings, each in
a lozenge.
‘A, stands for Albion’s Isle,’--Britannia seated.
‘B, for brave Britons renown’d.’--A soldier and sailor shaking
hands.
‘C, for a Corsican tyrant,’--Napoleon, with a skull, the
guillotine, &c., in the background.
‘D, his dread downfall must sound.’--Being hurled from his throne
by lightning.
‘E, for embattl’d we stand,’--A troop of soldiers.
‘F, ’gainst the French our proud Foes,’--shews England guarded by
her ships,’ and the flotilla coming over.
‘G, for our glorious Gunners,’--Three artillerymen, and a cannon.
‘H, for Heroical blows,’--shews a ship being blown up.
‘I, for Invasion once stood,’--Some soldiers carousing. The
English flag above the tricolour.
‘J, proves ’twas all a mere Joke.’--A soldier laughing heartily,
and holding his sides.
‘K, for a favorite King, to deal against Knaves a great
stroke.--Medallion of George the Third.
‘L, stands for Liberties’ laws,’--A cap of liberty, mitre,
pastoral staff, crown, and open book.
‘M, Magna Charta’s strong chain.’--A soldier, sailor, Highlander,
and civilian, joining hands.
‘N, Noble Nelson, whom Neptune, near Nile crown’d the Lord of the
Main,’--is a portrait of the Hero.
‘O, stands for Britain’s fam’d Oak,’--which is duly portrayed.
‘P, for each brave British Prince.’--The three feathers show the
Prince of Wales, in volunteer uniform.
‘Q, never once made a Question, Respecting the Deeds they’d
evince,’--is an officer drawing his sword.
‘If R, for our Rights takes the field,’--is a yeomanry volunteer.
‘Or S, should a signal display,’--The British Standard.
‘They’d each call with T for the Trumpet. To Horse my brave boys
and away.’--A mounted Trumpeter.
‘U, for United, we stand, V for our bold Volunteers,’--represents
one of the latter.
‘Whom W welcomes in War, and joins loyal X in three Cheers.’--A
soldier and sailor, with hands clasped, cheering.
‘With Y all our Youths sally forth, the standards of Freedom
advance,’--is a cannon between two standards.
‘With Z proving Englishmen’s Zeal, to humble the Zany of
France,’--shews Napoleon with a fool’s cap on, chained to the
wall in a cell.
CHAPTER XL.
NAPOLEON’S CORONATION.
Napoleon’s coronation was the great event of the year; but some time
before it was consummated the English caricaturist took advantage of
it, and J. B. (West), in September 1804, produced a ‘Design for an
Imperial Crown to be used at the Coronation of the New Emperor.’ A
perusal of the foregoing pages will render any explanation unnecessary.
[Illustration: Cushion of Usurpation]
Napoleon omitted no ceremony which could enhance the pageant of his
coronation. The Pope must be present: no meaner ecclesiastic should
hallow this rite, and he was gently _invited_ to come to Paris for
this purpose. Poor Pius VII. had very little option in the matter.
His master wanted him, and he must needs go; but Napoleon gilded the
chain which drew him. During the whole of his journey he was received
with the greatest reverence, and could hardly have failed to have been
impressed with the great care and attention paid to him. For instance,
the dangerous places in the passage of the Alps were protected by
parapets, so that his Holiness should incur no danger. On his arrival
at Paris he was lodged in the Tuileries, and a very delicate attention
was paid him--his bedchamber was fitted as a counterpart of his own in
the palace of Monte-Cavallo, at Rome.
The eventful 2nd of December came at last; but, before we note
the ceremony itself, we must pause awhile to see how the English
caricaturist treated the procession.
Hardly any one of Gillray’s caricatures (January 1, 1805) is as
effective as ‘The Grand Coronation Procession of Napoleone the 1st,
Emperor of France, from the Church of Notre Dame, Dec. 2nd, 1804.
Redeunt SATANIA regna, Iam nova progenies cœlo demittitur alto!’ Huge
bodies of troops form the background, whose different banners are--a
comet setting the world ablaze; an Imperial crown and the letters SPQN;
un Dieu, un Napoleon; a serpent biting its tail, surrounding a crowned
N. and a Sun, ‘Napoleone y^e 1st le Soleil de la Constitution.’
The procession is headed by ‘His Imperial Highness Prince Louis
Buonaparte Marbœuf’ (a delicate hint as to his paternity), ‘High
Constable of the Empire,’ who, theatrically dressed, struts, carrying
a drum-major’s staff fashioned like a sceptre. Behind him come ‘The
Three Imperial Graces, viz. their Imp. High. Princess Borghese,
Princess Louis (cher amie of y^e Emperor) & Princess Joseph Bonaparte.’
These ladies are clad in a most diaphanous costume, which leaves little
of their forms to the imagination, and they occupy themselves by
scattering flowers as they pass along.
[Illustration: THE THREE GRACES.]
[Illustration: TALLEYRAND, KING AT ARMS.]
After them comes ‘Madame Talleyrand (ci-devant Mrs. Halhead the
Prophetess),’ a stout, Jewish-looking woman, who is ‘Conducting the
Heir Apparent in y^e Path of Glory’--and a most precocious little imp
it looks. After them hobbles ‘Talleyrand Perigord, Prime Minister and
King at Arms, bearing the Emperor’s Genealogy,’ which begins with
‘Buone Butcher,’ goes on with ‘Bonny Cuckold,’ till it reaches the
apex of ‘Boney Emperor.’ Pope Pius VII. follows, and under his cope is
the devil disguised as an acolyte, bearing a candle; Cardinal Fesch is
by, and acts as thurifer. The incense is in clouds: ‘Les Addresses
des Municipalités de Paris--Les Adorations des Badauds--Les Hommages
des Canailles--Les Admirations des Fous--Les Congratulations des
Grenouilles--Les Humilités des Poltrons.’
[Illustration: NAPOLEON IN HIS CORONATION ROBES.]
Then comes the central figures of the pageant, ‘His Imperial Majesty
Napoleone y^e 1^{st} and the Empress Josephine,’ the former scowling
ferociously, the latter looking blowsy, and fearfully stout. Three
harridans, ‘ci-devant Poissardes,’ support her train, whilst that
of Napoleon is borne by a Spanish don, an Austrian hussar, and a
Dutchman, whose tattered breeches testify to his poverty. These are
styled ‘Puissant Continental Powers--Train Bearers to the Emperor.’
Following them come ‘Berthier, Bernadotte, Angerou, and all the brave
Train of Republican Generals;’ but they are handcuffed, and their faces
display, unmistakably, the scorn in which they hold their old comrade.
Behind them poses a short corpulent figure, ‘Senator Fouché, Intendant
General of y^e Police, bearing the Sword of Justice.’ But Fouché is
not content with this weapon. His other hand grasps an assassin’s
dagger, and both it, and the sword, are well imbrued in blood. The rear
of the procession is made up of a ‘Garde d’Honneur,’ which consists
of a gaoler with the keys of the _Temple_ and a set of fetters; a
_mouchard_ with his report, ‘Espionnage de Paris;’ _Monsieur de Paris_,
the executioner, bears a coil of rope with a noose, and a banner with
a representation of the guillotine--and a prisoner, holding aloft two
bottles respectively labelled Arsenic and Opium. More banners and more
soldiers fill up the background.
What a sight that must have been on the morning of the 2nd of December!
Visitors from all parts of France were there; and the cathedral of
Notre-Dame must have presented a gorgeous _coup d’œil_, with its
splendid ecclesiastical vestments, its magnificent uniforms, and the
beautiful dresses and jewels of the ladies. It can hardly be imagined,
so had better be described in the words of an eyewitness, Madame
Junot.[3]
‘Who that saw Notre-Dame on that memorable day, can ever forget it? I
have witnessed in that venerable pile the celebration of sumptuous and
solemn festivals; but never did I see anything at all approximating in
splendour to the _coup d’œil_ exhibited at Napoleon’s Coronation. The
vaulted roof re-echoed the sacred chanting of the priests, who invoked
the blessing of the Almighty on the ceremony about to be celebrated,
while they awaited the arrival of the Vicar of Christ, whose throne
was prepared near the altar. Along the ancient walls of tapestry were
ranged, according to their rank, the different bodies of the State, the
deputies from every City; in short, the representatives of all France
assembled to implore the benediction of Heaven on the sovereign of
the people’s choice. The waving plumes which adorned the hats of the
Senators, Counsellors of State, and Tribunes; the splendid uniforms
of the military; the clergy in all their ecclesiastical pomp; and the
multitude of young and beautiful women, glittering in jewels, and
arrayed in that style of grace and elegance which is only seen in
Paris;--altogether presented a picture which has, perhaps, rarely been
equalled, and certainly never excelled.
‘The Pope arrived first; and at the moment of his entering the
Cathedral, the anthem _Tu es Petrus_ was commenced. His Holiness
advanced from the door with an air at once majestic and humble. Ere
long, the firing of cannon announced the departure of the procession
from the Tuileries. From an early hour in the morning the weather had
been exceedingly unfavourable. It was cold and rainy, and appearances
seemed to indicate that the procession would be anything but agreeable
to those who joined it. But, as if by the especial favour of
Providence, of which so many instances are observable in the career
of Napoleon, the clouds suddenly dispersed, the sky brightened up,
and the multitudes who lined the streets from the Tuileries to the
Cathedral, enjoyed the sight of the procession, without being, as they
had anticipated, drenched by a December rain. Napoleon, as he passed
along, was greeted by heartfelt expressions of enthusiastic love and
attachment.
‘On his arrival at Notre-Dame, Napoleon ascended the throne, which
was erected in front of the grand altar. Josephine took her place
beside him, surrounded by the assembled sovereigns of Europe. Napoleon
appeared singularly calm. I watched him narrowly, with the view of
discovering whether his heart beat more highly beneath the imperial
trappings, than under the uniform of the guards; but I could observe
no difference, and yet I was at the distance of only ten paces from
him. The length of the ceremony, however, seemed to weary him; and I
saw him several times check a yawn. Nevertheless, he did everything he
was required to do, and did it with propriety. When the Pope anointed
him with the triple unction on his head and both hands, I fancied,
from the direction of his eyes, that he was thinking of wiping off the
oil rather than of anything else; and I was so perfectly acquainted
with the workings of his countenance, that I have no hesitation in
saying that was really the thought that crossed his mind at that
moment. During the ceremony of anointing, the Holy Father delivered
that impressive prayer which concluded with these words:--“Diffuse,
O Lord, by my hands, the treasures of your grace and benediction on
your servant, Napoleon, whom, in spite of our personal unworthiness,
_we this day anoint Emperor, in your name_.” Napoleon listened to
this prayer with an air of pious devotion; but just as the Pope was
about to take the crown, called the _Crown of Charlemagne_, from the
altar, Napoleon seized it, and placed it on his own head. At that
moment he was really handsome, and his countenance was lighted up with
an expression, of which no words can convey an idea. He had removed
the wreath of laurel which he wore on entering the church, and which
encircles his brow in the fine picture of Gérard. The crown was,
perhaps, in itself, less becoming to him; but the expression excited by
the act of putting it on, rendered him perfectly handsome.
‘When the moment arrived for Josephine to take an active part in the
grand drama, she descended from the throne and advanced towards the
altar, where the Emperor awaited her, followed by her retinue of Court
ladies, and having her train borne by the Princesses Caroline, Julie,
Eliza, and Louis. One of the chief beauties of the Empress Josephine
was not merely her fine figure, but the elegant turn of her neck,
and the way in which she carried her head; indeed, her deportment,
altogether, was conspicuous for dignity and grace. I have had the
honour of being presented to many _real princesses_, to use the phrase
of the Faubourg St.-Germain, but I never saw one who, to my eyes,
presented so perfect a personification of elegance and majesty. In
Napoleon’s countenance, I could read the conviction of all I have
just said. He looked with an air of complacency at the Empress as
she advanced towards him; and when she knelt down--when the tears,
which she could not repress, fell upon her clasped hands, as they
were raised to Heaven, or rather to Napoleon--both then appeared to
enjoy one of those fleeting moments of pure felicity, which are unique
in a lifetime, and serve to fill up a lustrum of years. The Emperor
performed, with peculiar grace, every action required of him during the
ceremony; but his manner of crowning Josephine was most remarkable:
after receiving the small crown, surmounted by the Cross, he had first
to place it on his own head, and then to transfer it to that of the
Empress. When the moment arrived for placing the crown on the head of
the woman, whom popular superstition regarded as his good genius, his
manner was almost playful. He took great pains to arrange this little
crown, which was placed over Josephine’s tiara of diamonds; he put it
on, then took it off, and finally put it on again, as if to promise her
she should wear it gracefully and lightly.’
It is almost painful, after reading this vivid and soul-stirring
description, to have to descend to the level of the caricaturist
descanting on the same subject; it is a kind of moral douche bath,
giving all one’s nerves a shock.
[Illustration: JOSEPHINE AT THE CORONATION.
NAPOLEON CROWNING HIMSELF.]
Soon made they every preparation
For a most brilliant coronation:
’Twas on, as must each bard remember,
The nineteenth day of _dark_ November[4]
When all the streets were strew’d with sand,
T’ exhibit a procession grand;
And the Cathedral, lately scorn’d,
With sumptuous frippery adorn’d.
Brave Bonaparte and Josephine,
Preceded by the Pope, walked in;
His Holiness the crown anointed,
And Boney Emperor appointed.
Then Corsica’s impatient son,
Snatch’d up the Crown, and put it on.
The Crown was decked with French frippery,
And with the oil, was rendered slippery;
Nap kept it on, tho’, without dread,
To let them know _he had a head_.
And as to dally he was loth,
He rapidly pronounc’d the oath--
As soon as he the oath had swallow’d,
Another Coronation follow’d--
Fair Josephine advanced, and lo!
Nap put on her a crown also.
‘Ah me!’ thought she, ‘there’s something wrong,
I fear it will drop off ’ere long.’
Of holy oil, it seems, the fair
Had got too plentiful a share.
This pantomimic business o’er,
Now marched they grandly as before;
For, tinsell’d pageantry united
With an equestrian troop, delighted
The new-made Emperor of Paris,
As much as Covent Garden Harris;
And all the people, for this wise end,
Were in the finest garments dizen’d;
They finish’d with illuminations,
Songs, music, dancing and orations.
The white wine, which in fountains flow’d,
Considerable mirth bestow’d.
The folks enjoy’d, free of expence,
The glare of lights, which was immense:
And the new Emperor, with glee,
Drank, till no longer he could see.
[Illustration: JOSEPHINE AS EMPRESS.]
Authentic news of the coronation did not reach England for nearly a
fortnight, and it was not till December 15 that the ‘Times’ was able to
give its readers a full account of the ceremony. ‘The Thunderer’ waxed
very wroth about it, as may be seen by the following extract from its
leader of that date:--
‘The “Moniteur” merely insinuates that the sun miraculously penetrated
through a thick fog, to be present at it: a compliment which is a
little diminished by a subsequent assertion, that the lamps were
afterwards able to supply his place by giving a noon-day brilliancy
to the night. Then follows a disgusting hypocritical panegyric upon
the union of civil and religious acts and ceremonies, the sublime
representation of all that human and divine affairs could assemble to
strike the mind--the venerable Apostolic virtues of the poor Pope,
and the most astonishing genius of Buonaparte crowned by the most
astonishing destiny!
‘The public will find these details, under their proper head, in
this paper. To us, we confess, all that appears worthy of remark or
memory in that opprobrious day is, that amongst all the Royalists and
Republicans of France, it was able to produce neither a BRUTUS nor a
CHŒREAS!
‘The day subsequent to the coronation, the people of Paris were
entertained upon the bridges, boulevards, and public places, with
popular sports, dancing, and other pastimes and diversions.
‘Upon the PLACE DE CONCORDE, still stained with the blood of the lawful
sovereign of France, were erected saloons and pavilions for dancing
_waltzes_. Medals were given away to the populace; illuminations,
artificial fireworks, pantomimes, and buffoons, musicians, temporary
theatres, everything was represented and administered that could
intoxicate and divert this vain and wicked people from contemplating
the crime they were committing. To the profanation of the preceding
day, it seems that all the orgies of wantonness and corruption
succeeded in the most curious and careful rotation, and that all the
skill and science of the DAVIDS and CHENIERS has been exhausted to keep
them for four and twenty hours from thinking upon what they had done.’
But not only in leaders did the ‘Times’ pour forth its wrath; it
published little jokelets occasionally, which were meant to be
very stinging, as, for instance: Monsieur NAPOLEON has distributed
his Eagles by thousands. What his _talents_ might be doubtful of
accomplishing, he expects from his _talons_.’
The ‘Daily Advertiser’, too, of December 15 contains some pretty
sentiments on the coronation, such as, ‘If Modern Europe will, after
such fair notice, and a notice so often repeated, by the French
Government, still remain in sluggish inaction, in stupid astonishment,
at the success of that Ruffian, who now wields the sceptre of
CHARLEMAGNE, and has dragooned the POPE to his Coronation, it is
evident that nations so besotted are only fit to be enslaved.’
CHAPTER XLI.
NAPOLEON’S LETTER TO GEORGE THE THIRD--NAVAL VICTORIES--CROWNED
KING OF ITALY--ALLIANCE OF EUROPE--WITHDRAWAL OF THE ‘ARMY OF
ENGLAND.’
Very shortly after his coronation, and with the commencement of the
year 1805, Napoleon wrote a letter to George the Third, intimating how
beneficial peace would be to both countries.
The text of this letter, and its answer, are as follow:--
Sire, my brother,--Called to the throne by Providence, and the
suffrages of the Senate, the people, and the army, my first
feeling was the desire for peace. France and England abuse
their prosperity: they may continue their strife for ages; but
will their governments, in so doing, fulfil the most sacred
of the duties which they owe to their people? And how will
they answer to their consciences for so much blood uselessly
shed, and without the prospect of any good whatever to their
subjects? I am not ashamed to make the first advances. I have,
I flatter myself, sufficiently proved to the world that I
fear none of the chances of war. It presents nothing which I
have occasion to fear. Peace is the wish of my heart; but war
has never been adverse to my glory. I conjure your Majesty,
therefore, not to refuse yourself the satisfaction of giving
peace to the world. Never was an occasion more favourable for
calming the passions, and giving ear only to the sentiments
of humanity and reason. If that opportunity be lost, what
limit can be assigned to a war which all my efforts have been
unable to terminate? Your Majesty has gained more during the
last ten years than the whole extent of Europe in riches and
territory: your subjects are in the very highest state of
prosperity: what can you expect from a war? To form a Coalition
of the Continental powers? Be assured the Coalition will
remain at peace. A coalition will only increase the strength
and preponderance of the French Empire. To renew our intestine
divisions? The times are no longer the same. To destroy our
finances? Finances founded on a flourishing agriculture can
never be destroyed. To wrest from France her Colonies? They
are to her only a secondary consideration; and your Majesty
has already enough and to spare of these possessions. Upon
reflection, you must, I am persuaded, yourself arrive at the
conclusion, that the war is maintained without an object; and
what a melancholy prospect, for two great nations to combat
merely for the sake of fighting! The world is surely large
enough for both to live in; and reason has still sufficient
power to find the means of reconciliation, if the inclination
only is not wanting. I have now, at least, discharged a duty
dear to my heart. May your Majesty trust to the sincerity of
the sentiments which I have now expressed, and the reality of
my desire to give the most convincing proofs of it.
George the Third could not, constitutionally, personally reply to this
letter, so Lord Mulgrave answered it, under date of January 14, and
addressed it to Talleyrand. It ran thus:
His Britannic Majesty has received the letter addressed to
him by the Chief of the French Government There is nothing
which his Majesty has more at heart, than to seize the first
opportunity of restoring to his subjects the blessings of
peace, provided it is founded upon a basis not incompatible
with the permanent interests, and security, of his dominions.
His Majesty is persuaded that that object cannot be attained
but by arrangements, which may at the same time provide
for the future peace, and security, of Europe, and prevent
a renewal of the dangers, and misfortunes, by which it is
now overwhelmed. In conformity with these sentiments, his
Majesty feels that he cannot give a more specific answer to
the overture which he has received until he has had time to
communicate with the Continental powers to whom he is united
in the most confidential manner, and particularly the Emperor
of Russia, who has given the strongest proofs of the wisdom,
and elevation, of the sentiments by which he is animated, and
of the lively interest which he takes in the security and
independence of Europe.
Apropos of this pacific overture, there is a very badly drawn picture
by Woodward (February 1, 1805), ‘A New Phantasmagoria for John Bull.’
Napoleon is seated on the French coast, directing his magic lantern
towards John Bull, exclaiming, ‘Begar de brave Galanté shew for Jonny
Bull.’ The magic lantern slide shows Napoleon coming over on a visit,
with a tricoloured flag in one hand, the other leading the Empress
Josephine, whose dress is _semée_ with bees. ‘Here we come Johnny--A
flag of Truce Johnny--something like a Piece! all decked out in Bees,
and stars, and a crown on her head; not such a patched up piece as
the last.’ The Russian bear is on one rock, John Bull on another--the
latter having his sword drawn. He says: ‘You may be d--d, and your
piece too! I suppose you thought I was off the watch--I tell you, I’ll
say nothing to you till I have consulted Brother Bruin, and I hear him
growling terribly in the offing.’
So we see that there was no hope of peace, as yet, and the war goes on.
I can hardly localise the following caricature:--
Argus (January 24, 1805) drew ‘The glorious Pursuit of Ten against
Seventeen.
God like his Courage seem’d, whom nor Delight
Could soften, nor the Face of Death affright.’
The French and Spaniards are in full flight, calling out, ‘By Gar dare
be dat tam Nelson dat Salamander dat do love to live in de fire, by
Gar we make haste out of his way, or he blow us all up.’ Nelson leads
on nine old sea dogs, encouraging them thus: ‘The Enemy are flying
before you my brave fellows, _Seventeen_ against _Ten_ of us. Crowd
all the Sail you can, and then for George, Old England--_Death_ or
_Victory_!!!’ His followers utter such sentences as the following:
‘My Noble Commander, we’ll follow you the world over, and shiver my
Timbers but we shall soon bring up our lee way, and then, as sure as my
name is Tom Grog, we’ll give them another touch of the Battle of the
Nile’--‘May I never hope to see Poll again, if I would not give a whole
month’s flip if these lubberly Parly vous would but just stop one half
watch,’ &c. &c.
The style in which our sailors worked is very aptly illustrated
in a letter from an officer on board the _Fisgard_, off Cape St.
Vincent, dated November 28, 1804.[5] We must remember that war was
not officially declared against Spain until January 11, 1805; but
this gentleman writes: ‘We cannot desire a better station; we heard
of hostilities with Spain on October the 15th, and on that very
day we captured two Ships. Lord Nelson received from us the first
intelligence--we have already taken twelve ships and entertain
hopes of as many more. Yesterday we fell in with the _Donegal_,
Capt. Sir R. Strachan, who has taken a large Spanish Frigate, the
_Amphitrite_, after a chase of 46 hours, and 15 minutes’ action, in
which the Spanish Captain was killed; the prize was from Cadiz, with
despatches for _Teneriffe_ and the _Havana_, laden with stores. The
_Amphitrite_ Frigate, of 42 Guns, was one of the finest Frigates in
the Spanish Navy. The _Donegal_ chased the _Amphitrite_ for several
hours, sometimes gaining upon her, and sometimes losing; at length
the _Amphitrite_ carried away her mizen top mast, which enabled the
_Donegal_ to come up with her. A Boat was then despatched by Sir
Richard for the purpose of bringing the Spanish Captain on board. Some
difficulty arose from neither party understanding the language of the
other; at length Sir Richard acquainted the Spanish Captain, that in
compliance with the Orders he had received from his Admiral, he was
under the necessity of conducting the _Amphitrite_ back again to Cadiz,
and he allowed the Spanish Captain three minutes to determine whether
he would comply without compelling him to have recourse to force. After
waiting six minutes in vain for a favourable answer, the _Donegal_
fired into the _Amphitrite_, which was immediately answered with a
broadside. An engagement then ensued, which lasted about eight minutes,
when the _Amphitrite_ struck her colours. During this short engagement
the Spanish Captain was unfortunately killed by a musket ball. The
_Donegal_ has also captured another Spanish ship, supposed the richest
that ever sailed from Cadiz, her cargo reported worth 200,000_l._’
Another letter, dated November 29, adds, ‘We have this day taken a
large Ship from the River de la Plata.’
They had captured the following ships previous to December 3:--
Nostra Signora del Rosario value £10,000
Il Fortuna ” 8,000
St. Joseph ” 12,000
La Virgine Assumpto ” 6,000
Apollo ” 15,000
Signora del Purificatione ” 40,000
Fawket ” 1,100
Gustavus Adolphus ” 1,000
A Settee ” 600
A Ship with Naval Stores ” 40,000
On February 26, 1805, Gillray published ‘The Plumb Pudding in danger;
or State Epicures taking un Petit Souper--’ the great globe itself,
and all which it inherits, ‘is too small to satisfy such insatiable
appetites.’ Napoleon is taking all Europe, whilst Pitt is calmly
appropriating all the ocean to himself.
[Illustration: THE PLUMB PUDDING IN DANGER.]
There is now almost a total cessation of caricature until the autumn;
and it probably was in this wise. Napoleon did not actively bother this
country; his thoughts were, for the time, elsewhere. On March 17 a
deputation from the Italian Republic waited upon him, stating that it
was the desire of their countrymen that he should be their monarch, and
accordingly on April 2 he and Josephine left Paris for Milan.
Another project fill’d his head,
For vanity must still be fed;
A second Charlemagne to prove,
Our hero resolutely strove.
Addresses manufactured he,
All which were sent to Italy;
To get additional renown,
He to restore the iron crown
Of Italy resolved,--by which
He hoped his pockets to enrich.
T’ obtain, was certainly his aim,
O’er the Peninsula, a claim.
Now, Nap, while filling out his wine,
Told Josephine his bold design--
‘My dear,’ said he, and kiss’d her lip,
To Italy, we’ll take a trip.’
To bring about this great event,
The Emperor and Empress went.
When in Milan they both arrived,
To coax the people Nap contrived;
And being a great Saint believed,
With adulation was receiv’d;
He, by his condescension, proved
How dearly he _his children_ loved.
And on the Twenty Sixth of May
Began our hero to display
Another Coronation splendid,
While on a throne he sat attended.
Now highly honor’d and rever’d,
The diadem of France appear’d
On his right hand, and _inter alia_,
All its magnificent regalia.
Whilst on his left hand, to the sight,
The crown of iron sparkled bright;
Tho’ iron, this they used to call,
The cross was iron, that was all.[6]
The rest was diamonds and pure gold,
And very lovely to behold.
The Cardinal Archbishop then
Began the ceremony--when
Nap was Italian King protested,
And with th’ insignia too invested;
The altar steps he hasten’d soon up,
And taking quick the precious boon up,
He placed the Crown upon his head,
And in a voice of thunder said
‘Since heav’n has giv’n to me this Crown,
Who dares to touch it, I’ll knock him down.’[7]
An amateur drew, and Gillray etched (August 2, 1805), ‘St. George
and the Dragon, a Design for an Equestrian Statue from the Original
in Windsor Castle.’ Napoleon (a most ferocious dragon) has seized
upon poor Britannia, who, dropping her spear and shield, her hair
dishevelled, and her dress disordered, with upraised arm, attempts to
avert her fate; but St. George (George the Third) on horseback, comes
to the rescue, and, smiting that dragon, cleaves his crown.
As a practical illustration of the servile adulation with which he was
treated, take the following etching by Woodward (September 15, 1805):
‘Napoleon’s Apotheosis Anticipated, or the Wise Men of Leipsic sending
Boney to Heaven before his time!!! At the German University of Leipsic,
it was decreed that the Constellation called Orion’s Belt should
hereafter be named Napoleon in Honor of that Hero.--Query--Did the Wise
men of Leipsic mean it as an honor, or a reflection on the turbulent
spirit of Boney, as the rising of Orion is generally accompanied with
Storms and Tempests, for which reason he has the Sword in his hand.’
Orion has his belt round Napoleon’s neck, and is hoisting him up to
heaven thereby; Napoleon is kicking and struggling, and exclaims, ‘What
are you about--I tell you I would rather stay where I was.’ The German
_savants_ are watching him through their telescopes, saying, ‘He mounts
finely’--‘I think we have now made ourselves immortal’--‘It was a
sublime idea’--‘Orion seems to receive him better than I expected.’
This is confirmed in ‘Scot’s Magazine,’ 1807[8]: ‘The University of
Leipzig has resolved henceforth to call by the name of Napoleon that
group of stars which lies between the girdle and the sword of Orion;
and a numerous deputation of the University was appointed to present
the “Conqueror” with a map of the group so named!’
Napoleon hardly reckoned on Austria taking up arms against him without
a formal declaration of war, and was rather put to it to find men to
oppose the Allies, whose forces were reckoned at 250,000 men; whilst
France, though with 275,000 men at her disposal, had 180,000 of them
locked up in the so-called ‘Army of England.’ We can imagine his
chagrin in having to forego his cherished plan of invasion, and being
compelled to withdraw his troops from the French shores.
The ‘Times’ (how different a paper it was in those days to what it
is now!) is jubilant thereupon.[9] ‘The _Scene_ that now opens upon
the soldiers of France, by being obliged to leave the coast and march
eastwards, is sadly different from that _Land of Promise_, which, for
two years, has been held out to them, in all sorts of gay delusions.
After all the efforts of the _Imperial Boat-Builder_, instead of
sailing over the _Channel_, they will have to cross the _Rhine_. The
bleak _forests_ of Suabia will make but a sorry exchange for the
promised spoils of our _Docks_ and _Warehouses_. They will not find any
equivalent for the _plunder_ of the _Bank_ in another bloody passage
through “_the Valley of Hell_”; but they seem to have forgotten the
magnificent promise of the _Milliard_.’
The French papers affected to make light of this death-blow to their
hopes; one of them, quoted in the ‘Times’ of September 13, says:
‘Whilst the German Papers, with much noise, make more troops march than
all the Powers together possess, France, which needs not to augment her
forces in order to display them in an imposing manner, detaches a few
thousand troops from the Army of England to cover her frontiers, which
are menaced by the imprudent conduct of Austria.’
The caricaturist, of course, made capital out of it, and Rowlandson
(October 1, 1805) designed ‘The departure from the Coast or the End
of the Farce of Invasion.’ Napoleon, seated on a sorry ass, is sadly
returning, inland, homeward, to the intense delight of some French
monkeys. His Iron Crown is tottering off his head, and his steed is
loaded with the Boulogne Encampment, the Army of England, and Excuses
for non-performance. The British Lion on the English cliffs lifts his
leg and gives Boney a parting salute. The latter exclaims, ‘Bless me,
what a shower! I shall be wet through before I reach the Rhine.’
The action of the Allies is shown by the caricature, ‘Tom Thumb at Bay,
or the Sovereigns of the Forest roused at last,’ by Ansell (October
1805), which shows the Lilliputian Emperor, who has thrown away his
crown and sceptre, being fiercely pursued by a double-headed eagle,
a bear, and a boar, and is rushing into the open jaws of a ferocious
lion. ‘Which way shall I escape? If I fly from the Bear and the Eagle,
I fall into the jaws of the Lion!!’ Holland, Spain, and Italy, all have
yokes round their necks--but, seeing Bonaparte’s condition, Holland
takes his off and lays it on the ground. The Spaniard, surprised,
exclaims, ‘Why! Mynheer, you have got your yoke off!’ And the Italian,
who is preparing to remove his, says, ‘I think Mynheer’s right, and
now’s the time, Don, to get ours off.’ An army of rats is labelled,
‘Co-Estates ready to assist.’
CHAPTER XLII.
SURRENDER OF ULM--BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR--PROPOSALS FOR PEACE--DANIEL
LAMBERT.
Meantime the Austrians were in a very awkward position. General Mack
was, from October 13, closely invested in Ulm, and Napoleon had almost
need to restrain his troops, who were flushed with victory and eager
for the assault. The carnage on both sides would, in such a case, have
been awful; but Napoleon clearly pointed out to Mack his position: how
that, in eight days, he would be forced to capitulate for want of food:
that the Russians were yet far off, having scarcely reached Bohemia;
that no other aid was nigh:--and on October 20, the gates of Ulm were
opened, and 36,000 Austrian troops slowly defiled therefrom. Sixteen
generals surrendered with Mack, and Napoleon treated them generously.
All the officers were allowed to go home, their parole, not to fight
against France until there had been a general exchange of prisoners,
only being required; and Napoleon sent 50,000 prisoners into France,
distributing them throughout the agricultural districts.
Gillray drew (November 6, 1805) ‘The Surrender of Ulm, or Buonaparte
and Gen^l Mack coming to a right understanding--Intended as a Specimen
of French Victories--_i.e._ Conquering without Bloodshed!!!’ It shows a
little Napoleon, seated on a drum, whilst Mack and some other generals
are grovelling on all fours, delivering up their swords, banners,
and the keys of Ulm, to the conqueror. Napoleon, pointing to three
large sacks of money, borne by as many soldiers, exclaims: ‘There’s
your Price! There’s Ten Millions--Twenty!! It is not in my Army alone
that my resources of Conquering consists!! I hate victory obtain’d
by effusion of blood.’ ‘And so do I,’ says the crawling Mack; ‘What
signifies Fighting when we can settle it in a safer way.’ On the
ground is a scroll of ‘Articles to be deliver’d up. 1 Field Marshal.
8 Generals in Chief. 7 Lieutenant Generals. 36 Thousand Soldiers. 80
pieces of Cannon. 50 Stand of Colours. 100,000 Pounds of Powder. 4,000
Cannon Balls.’
This subject also attracted the pencil of I. Cruikshank (November
19, 1805): ‘Boney beating Mack--and Nelson giving him a Whack!! or
the British Tars giving Boney his Hearts desire, SHIPS, COLONIES and
COMMERCE.’ Mack is kneeling in a suppliant manner before Bonaparte,
who stamps upon his captive’s sword, addressing him: ‘I want not your
Forts, your Cities, nor your territories! Sir, I only want Ships,
Colonies and Commerce’--a very slight variation from the real text of
his address to the vanquished Austrian officers: ‘I desire nothing
further upon the Continent. I want ships, colonies, and commerce; and
it is as much your interest, as mine, that I should have them.’ During
this peroration military messengers are arriving. One calls out, ‘May
it please your King’s Majesty’s Emperor. That Dam Nelson take all your
ships. Twenty at a time. Begar, if you no come back directly they vill
not leave you vone boat to go over in.’ Another runs along crying,
‘Run, ma foi, anoder Dam Nelson take ever so many more ships.’ This is
an allusion to the battle of Trafalgar (October 21, 1805),[10] where
Nelson paid for his victory with his life. This is further illustrated
in another portion of the engraving, by Nelson, who is towing the
captured vessels, kneeling at Britannia’s feet, saying: ‘At thy feet,
O Goddess of the seas, I resign my life in the service of my country.’
Britannia replies: ‘My Son, thy Name shall be recorded in the page of
History on tablets of the brightest Gold.’
Rowlandson (November 13, 1805) further alludes to the surrender of Ulm
and the battle of Trafalgar: ‘Nap Buonaparte in a fever on receiving
the Extraordinary Gazette of Nelson’s Victory over the combined
Fleets.’ Boney is very sick and miserable, the combined effects of the
news which he has read in the paper which falls from his trembling
hands--the ‘Extraordinary Gazette. 19 Sail of the line taken by Lord
Nelson.’ He appeals to four doctors, who are in consultation on his
case: ‘My dear Doctors! those Sacré Anglois have play’d the Devil vid
my Constitution. Pray tell me what is the matter with me. I felt the
first symptoms when I told Gen^l Mack I wanted Ships, Colonies and
Commerce. Oh dear! oh dear! I shall want more ships now--this is a
cursed sensation--Oh I am very qualmish.’ One doctor opines it is ‘a
desperate case,’ another that he is ‘Irrecoverable.’ One recommends
bleeding; but one has thoroughly investigated the case, and found
out the cause: ‘Begar, me have found it out, _your heart be in your
breeches_!’
Now with such fury they push’d on,
Memmengen the French Army won,
And by the treachery of Mack,
Ulm surrendered in a crack--
Soon after the capitulation,
The Austrians with consternation
Laid down their arms, and to their shame,
Napoleon’s prisoners became----
There were no caricatures of the battle of Trafalgar--the victory was
purchased at too great a cost; but Gillray executed a serious etching
in memory of Nelson, published on December 29, 1805, the funeral of the
hero taking place on the subsequent 9th of January.
The following caricature shows the quality of news supplied to our
forefathers:--
‘John Bull exchanging News with the Continent’ is by Woodward, December
11, 1805, and represents Napoleon and a French newsboy on a rock called
_Falsehood_, disseminating news the reverse of true. The ‘Journal
de l’Empire’ says that Archduke Charles is dead with fatigue; the
‘Journal de Spectacle’ that England is invaded. The ‘Gazette de France’
informs us that the English fleet is dispersed, and the ‘Publicité’
follows it with the news that the combined fleets are sent in pursuit.
False bulletins are being scattered broadcast. These, however, have
but little effect on John Bull, who, attired as a newsboy, stands on
the rock of Truth, flourishing a paper, ‘Trafalgar London Gazette
extraordinary,’ and bellowing through his horn, ‘Total defeat of the
Combin’d Fleets of France and Spain,’ which is vividly depicted in the
background.
‘Tiddy doll, the great French Gingerbread Baker, drawing out a new
Batch of Kings--his man Hopping Talley mixing up the Dough,’ is
a somewhat elaborate etching by Gillray (January 23, 1806). The
celebrated gingerbread maker has, on a ‘peel,’ three kings, duly
gilt--Bavaria, Wurtemberg, and Baden--which he is just introducing into
the ‘New French Oven for Imperial Gingerbread.’ On a chest of three
drawers, relatively labelled Kings and Queens, Crowns and Sceptres,
and Suns and Moons, are a quantity of ‘Little Dough Viceroys, intended
for the next batch.’ Under the oven is an ‘Ash hole for broken
Gingerbread,’ and a broom--‘the Corsican Besom of Destruction’--has
swept therein La République Française, Italy, Austria, Spain,
Netherlands, Switzerland, Holland, and Venice. On the ground is a
fool’s cap and bells, which acts as a cornucopia (labelled ‘Hot
Spiced Gingerbread, all hot; Come, who dips in my lucky bag’), which
disgorges stars and orders, principalities, dukedoms, crowns, sceptres,
cardinals’ hats, and bishops’ mitres; and a baker’s basket is full of
‘True Corsican Kinglings for Home Consumption and Exportation.’
[Illustration: TIDDY DOLL, THE GREAT FRENCH GINGERBREAD BAKER, DRAWING
OUT A NEW BATCH OF KINGS.]
Talleyrand--with a mitre on his head, and beads and cross round his
waist, to show his ecclesiastical status; with a pen in his mouth, and
ink-pot slung to his side, to denote his diplomatic functions--is hard
at work at the ‘Political Kneading Trough,’ mixing up Hungary, Poland,
Turkey, &c., whilst an eagle (Prussia) is pecking at a piece of dough
(Hanover).
To thoroughly understand this caricature, we must first of all know
something about _Tiddy Doll_. He was a seller of gingerbread, and was
as famous in his time as was _Colly Molly Puff_ in the time of Steele
and Addison. He had a refrain, all his own, like a man well known to
dwellers in Brighton and the West End of London--‘_Brandy balls_.’
Hone[11] gives the best account of him that I know. Discoursing on _May
fair_, he says: ‘Here, too, was _Tiddy-doll_; this celebrated vendor of
gingerbread, from his eccentricity of character and extensive dealings
in his way, was always hailed as the king of itinerant tradesmen.[12]
In his person he was tall, well made, and his features handsome. He
affected to dress like a person of rank: white, gold-laced, suit
of clothes, laced ruffled shirt, laced hat and feather, white silk
stockings, with the addition of a fine white apron. Among his harangues
to gain customers, take this as a specimen: “Mary, Mary, where are you
_now_, Mary? I live, when at home, at the second house in little Ball
Street, two steps under ground, with a wiscum, riscum, and a why not.
Walk in ladies and gentlemen; my shop is on the second floor backwards,
with a brass knocker at the door. Here is your nice gingerbread, your
spice gingerbread; it will melt in your mouth like a redhot brickbat,
and rumble in your inside like Punch and his wheelbarrow.” He always
finished his address by singing this fag end of some popular ballad.
[Illustration: [MUSIC]
Ti - tid - dy, ti - ti ti - tid - dy, ti - ti ti - tid-dy, ti - ti
tid-dy did-dy dol - lol, ti - tiddy, ti - diddy ti - ti, tid-dy,
tiddy, dol.’
]
Pitt died on January 23, 1806, and Fox succeeded him. It is probable
that Napoleon reckoned somewhat on Fox’s friendship, and hence the
following caricature:--
[Illustration: BONEY AND THE GREAT STATE SECRETARY.]
‘Boney and the Great Secretary’ (Argus, February 1806) gives a good
portrait of Fox. Napoleon wishes to be friendly: ‘How do you do, Master
Charley, why you are so fine, I scarcely knew ye--don’t you remember
me, why I am little Boney the Corsican--him that you came to see at
Paris, and very civil I was to you, I’m sure. If you come my way I
shall be glad to see you, so will my wife and family. They are a little
changed in their dress, as well as you. We shall be very happy to take
a little _peace_ soup with you, whenever you are inclined, Master
Charley.’ But Fox shakes his fist at him: ‘Why, you little Corsican
Reptile! how dare you come so near the person of the Right Honble C----
J---- F---- one of his M---- principal Secretaries of State, Member
of the P.C. &c., &c., &c., &c., &c., &c., &c., &c.--go to see YOU!!!
Arrogant little Man, Mr. Boney--if you do not instantly vanish from my
sight--I’le break every bone in your body--learn to behave yourself
in a _peaceable_ manner, nor dare to set your foot on this happy land
without MY leave.’
Of ‘Pacific Overtures, or a Flight from St. Cloud, “over the Water
to Charley,” a new Dramatic Peace now rehearsing’ (Gillray, April 5,
1806), only a portion is given in the accompanying illustration, but
quite sufficient to explain the negotiations for peace then in progress.
[Illustration]
This caricature is far too elaborate to reproduce the whole, and the
allusions therein are extremely intricate and, nowadays, uninteresting.
A theatrical stage is represented, with Napoleon descending in clouds,
pointing to Terms of Peace, which are being displayed by Talleyrand,
and saying, ‘There’s my terms.’ These are as follow: ‘Acknowledge me
as Emperor; dismantle your fleet; reduce your army; abandon Malta and
Gibraltar; renounce all Continental connexion; your Colonies I will
take at a valuation; engage to pay to the Great Nation, for seven years
annually, £1,000,000; and place in my hands as hostages, the Princess
Charlotte of Wales, with ten of the late administration, whom I shall
name.’
King George has stepped from his box on to the stage, and is surveying
this vision through his glass, exclaiming: ‘Very amusing terms indeed,
and might do vastly well with some of the new made little gingerbread
kings[13]; but we are not in the habit of giving up either “ships, or
commerce, or colonies” merely because little Boney is in a pet to have
them!!!’
Ansell (April 1806) drew ‘Roast Beef and French Soup. The English
Lamb * * * and the French Tiger,’ and it seems merely designed
for the purpose of introducing Daniel Lambert, who was then on
exhibition--‘Daniel Lambert who at the age of 36 weighed above 50
Stone, 14 Pounds to the Stone, measured 3 yards 4 inches round the
Body, and 1 yard 1 inch round the leg. 5 feet 11 inches high.’ It shows
the redoubtable fat man seated on a couch, carving a round of beef,
which is accompanied by a large mustard-pot, a huge loaf, and a foaming
pot of stout. Napoleon, seated on a similar couch, on the opposite side
of the table, is taking soup--then an unaccustomed article of food with
Englishmen--and looks with horror at the other’s size and manner of
feeding.
Daniel Lambert was like Mr. Dick in ‘David Copperfield,’ who would
persist in putting King Charles the First’s head into his Memorial;
he could hardly be kept out of the caricatures. Ansell produced one
(May 1806)--‘Two Wonders of the World, or a Specimen of a new troop
of Leicestershire Light Horse.--Mr. Daniel Lambert, who at the age of
36 weighed above 50 Stone, 14 Pounds to the Stone, measured 3 yards 4
inches round the body and 1 yard 1 inch round the leg, 5 feet 11 inches
high. The famous horse Monarch, the largest in the World is upwards of
21 hands high, (above 7 foot)[14] and only 6 Years old.’ Lambert is
mounted on this extraordinary quadruped, and, sword in hand, is riding
at poor little Boney, who exclaims in horror, ‘Parbleu! if dis be de
specimen of de English light Horse, vat vill de Heavy Horse be? Oh, by
Gar, I vill put off de Invasion for anoder time.’
Yet once more are these two brought into juxtaposition, in an engraving
by Knight (April 15, 1806), ‘Bone and Flesh, or John Bull in moderate
Condition.’ Napoleon is looking at this prodigy, and saying, ‘I
contemplate this Wonder of the World, and regret that all my Conquered
Domains cannot match this Man. Pray, Sir, are you not a descendant
from the great Joss of China?’ Lambert replies, ‘No Sir, I am a true
born Englishman, from the County of Leicester. A quiet mind, and good
Constitution, nourished by the free Air of Great Britain, makes every
Englishman thrive.’
Another of Gillray’s caricatures into which Napoleon is introduced,
but in which he plays a secondary part, is called ‘Comforts of a Bed
of Roses; vide Charley’s elucidation of Lord C--stl--r--gh’s speech!
Nightly Scene near Cleveland row.’ This is founded on a speech of Lord
Castlereagh’s, in which he congratulated the Ministry as having ‘a bed
of roses.’ But Fox, in reply, recounted his difficulties and miseries,
and said: ‘Really, it is insulting to tell me I am on a bed of roses,
when I feel myself torn, and stung, by brambles, and nettles, whichever
way I turn.’
Fox and Mrs. Fox are shown as sleeping on a bed of roses, some of which
peep out from underneath the rose-coloured counterpane, but which
display far more of thorns than of roses. There is the _India rose_,
the Emancipation rose, the French rose, the Coalition rose, and the
Volunteer rose. Fox’s slumbers are terribly disturbed; his _bonnet
rouge_, which he wears as night-cap, has tumbled off; his night-shirt
is seized at the neck, on one side by the ghost of Pitt, who exclaims:
‘Awake, arise, or be for ever fall’n!’ The other side is fiercely
clutched by Napoleon, who, drawn sword in hand, has just stepped on
to the bed from a cannon labelled ‘Pour subjuguer le monde.’ Amidst a
background of smoke appear spears, and a banner entitled ‘Horrors of
Invasion.’ The Prussian eagle is preparing to swoop down upon him, and,
from under the bed, crawls out a skeleton holding an hour-glass, whilst
round its fleshless arm is entwined a serpent ‘Intemperance, Dropsy,
Dissolution.’ John Bull, as a bull-dog, is trying to seize Napoleon.
‘John Bull threatened by Insects from all Quarters’ is by an unknown
artist (April 1806). John Bull is on ‘The tight little Island,’ and
seated on a cask of grog. With one hand he flourishes a cutlass,
and the other grasps a pistol, of which weapon two more lie on the
ground. With these he defies the insects, which come in swarms. There
are Westphalian mites, American hornets, Dutch bluebottles, Italian
butterflies, Turkish wasps, Danish gnats, and, worst of all, a French
dragon-fly, in the shape of Napoleon. John Bull is saying: ‘Come on my
Lads--give me but good sea room, and I don’t care for any of you--Why
all your attacks is no more than a gnat stinging an Elephant, or a flea
devouring Mr. Lambert of Leicester.’
A very clever caricature is by Knight (June 26, 1806) of ‘Jupiter
Bouney granting unto the Dutch Frogs a King. The Frogs sent their
deputies to petition Jupiter again for a King. He sent them a Stork,
who eat them up, vide Æsop’s fables.’ The discontented Dutch spurn
their King Log, and pray, ‘We present ourselves before the throne of
your Majesty. We pray that you will grant us, as the supreme Chief of
our Republic, Prince Louis.’ Napoleon, as Jupiter, seated on an eagle
(which is made to look as much like a devil as possible), says: ‘I
agree to the request. I proclaim Prince Louis, King of Holland. You
Prince! reign over this People.’ And the stork is duly despatched on
its mission. Talleyrand, as Ganymede, supplies Jupiter with _a cup of
comfort for the discontented_.
CHAPTER XLIII.
NEGOTIATIONS FOR PEACE--DEATH OF FOX--NAPOLEON’S VICTORIOUS CAREER--HIS
PROCLAMATION OF A BLOCKADE OF ENGLAND.
Apropos of the negotiations for peace, there is a picture of Woodward’s
(July 1806), in which Fox is just closing the door behind a messenger
laden with despatches. John Bull, whose pockets are stuffed with
_Omnium_ and _Speculation on Peace_, entreats him with clasped
hands: ‘Now do Charley, my dear good boy, open the door a little bit
farther, just to enable me to take in a few of my friends at the
Stock Exchange.’ But Fox remonstrates: ‘Really, Mr. Bull, you are too
inquisitive--don’t you see the door for Negotiation is opened? don’t
you see the back of a Messenger? don’t you see he has got dispatches
under his arm? what would you desire more?’
‘Experiments at Dover, or Master Charley’s Magic Lanthorn,’ is by
Rowlandson (July 21, 1806), and shows Fox seated on the seashore,
projecting images on to the opposite coast. The slide he is passing
through the lantern begins with a ‘Messenger from Boulogne,’ then a
‘Messenger to Paris,’ then ‘More Dispatches’; and he is now showing
Bonaparte as a newsboy, with his horn, calling out ‘Preliminaries of
Peace.’ The next, and final, picture to come is a man waving his hat
and shouting ‘Huzza.’ Fox is saying: ‘There, Master Bull, what do you
think of that--I told you I would surprize you. Preliminaries of Peace!
Huzza!’ But John Bull is not quite satisfied with his conduct, and
fancies there has been something kept from him. ‘Why yes, it be all
very foine, if it be true. But I can’t forget that d--d Omnium last
week--they be always one way or other in contradictions! I tell thee
what, Charley, since thee hast become a great man--I think in my heart
thee beest always conjuring.’
‘The Pleasing and Instructive Game of _Messengers_--or Summer Amusement
for John Bull,’ by Ansell (August 1806), shows us the Channel, on
both sides of which a lively game is being kept up by means of
racket bats, a constant supply of balls, in the shape of messengers,
between the two countries, being kept in the air. Their messages are
Peace, Hope, Despair, No peace, Passports, Peace to a Certainty, No
peace, Credentials, Despatches, &c. On the French side, Napoleon and
Talleyrand keep the game alive, ‘Begar Talley, dis be ver amusant--Keep
it up as long as you can, that we may have time for our project.’
Sheridan, Fox, and others play on the English side; John Bull being
merely a spectator, not too much amused, as a paper, protruding from
his pocket, shows: ‘Very shy at the Stock Exchange.’ Sheridan calls
out: ‘That’s right my lads, bang ’em about. John Bull seems quite
puzzled.’ Fox asks: ‘Is not it a pretty game Johnny?’ Johnny, however,
says: ‘Pretty enough as to that, they do fly about monstrous quick to
be sure: but you don’t get any more money out of my pocket for all
that!!’
[Illustration: NEWS FROM CALABRIA.]
Gillray gives us a veritable caricature in ‘News from Calabria!
Capture of Buenos Ayres! i.e. the Comforts of an Imperial Dejeune at
St. Clouds’ (September 13, 1806), a portion only of which is given in
illustration. Boney is here, terrific in his wrath; poor Talleyrand,
who has brought the news, is receiving grievous punishment from his
Imperial master. Not only is his ear pulled (a favourite trick of
Napoleon’s), but he is being belaboured with the tea-urn, which is made
in the form of the world: his master crying out: ‘Out on ye Owl, noting
but song of Death!!’ Napoleon has kicked over the breakfast-table, and
the scalding contents of the tea-urn are being deposited in the lap
of Josephine, who screams with agony and terror. The maids of honour
and courtiers, though refraining from open demonstration, look aghast
at the imperial violence, which is not diminished by the presence of
a number of messengers, whose news is particularly unwelcome: ‘Spain
in despair for the loss of her Colonies.’ ‘All Germany rising, and
arming _en Masse_.’ ‘Holland starving, and ripe for a revolt.’ ‘St.
Petersburg: refusal to ratify the French Treaty.’ ‘Prussia rousing
from the Trance of Death.’ ‘Swedish defiance. Charles XII. redivivus.’
‘Switzerland cursing the French yoke.’ ‘Italy shaking off her Chains.’
‘La Vendée again in motion.’ ‘Portugal true to the last gasp.’ ‘Sicily
firing like Etna.’ ‘Denmark waiting for an opportunity.’ ‘Turkey
invoking Mahomet.’ Naturally, all this bad news contributes towards
making it a ‘hard time’ for Talleyrand.
Argus gives us (September 1806) ‘The Continental Shaving Shop. Boney
beats Jemmy Wright, who shaved as well as any man, almost, not quite’
(September 1806). As a barber, he is going to shave the Grand Turk,
and, flourishing an enormous razor of Corsican steel, seizes his beard.
This the Turk naturally objects to, saying: ‘By the Holy Prophet, I
must not part with my beard, why, my people will not acknowledge me for
the grand Signor again at Constantinople.’ Talleyrand, as assistant,
is lathering the Turk’s face, persuading him, ‘Come, come, don’t make
such a fuss, my Master _will_ cut away when he catches anybody in his
shop.’ Boney calls out: ‘Lather away Talley. I’ll soon ease him of his
superfluities and make him look like my Christian customers.’
The sort of treatment they are likely to get is clearly set forth in
an announcement on the wall. ‘Nap Boney, shaver general to most of the
Sovereigns on the Continent, shaves expeditiously, and clean, a few
gashes excepted; is ready to undertake any new Customer who is willing
to submit to the above.’ His treatment is exemplified by the appearance
of Austria, whose gashed face and head is ornamented with strips of
court-plaister. He is talking to John Bull, who looks in at a window:
‘Come, Johnny, come in and be shaved, don’t be frightened at the size
of the razor, it cuts very clean, I assure you.’ His reply is, ‘By
Goles so it seems, and leaves a dom’d sight of gashes behoind, as you
and Mynheer can testify!!’ Poor Holland is in even a worse plight than
Austria, and is talking to Prussia, who is sitting in a chair, ready
lathered for shaving. Says he to the Dutchman: ‘I hope he don’t mean
to shave me as he has you, and my neighbour Austria there? I should
not sit here so quietly with my face lathered.’ Holland replies: ‘Yaw
Mynheer very close shaver, its nix my doll when you are used to it.’
‘Political Quadrille’ is by Ansell (October 1806), and represents two
sets playing that game of cards. One set is composed of George the
Third, Russia, Spain, and Prussia. The other consists of Napoleon,
Italy, Holland, and Austria. George the Third says: ‘I never had luck
when the Curse of Scotland[15] was in my hand--however I have now
discarded it--Ay this will do--I have now a strong suit, without a
_knave_ among them.’ Russia observes: ‘I never had such luck since I
have been a Russian, compleatly bested off the board--but that I must
endeavour to forget, and try to play better in future.’ Spain says: ‘I
was obliged to play, tho’ it was _forced Spadille_. My Queen deceived
me--but however I must not now give myself _Ayres_, as I have lost all
my Dollars.’ Prussia remarks: ‘Shall I play or not? If I play, I fear I
shall be bested, and if not, they will call me _Prussian Cake_.’
In the other set of players, Napoleon says: ‘I begin to fancy I can
play alone--No, I can call a _King_ when I please, I am strong in my
suits--besides I know how to finesse my Cards.’ Austria says: ‘For the
present I fear the game is up with me, so I _pass_.’ Italy says: ‘I
fear it is nearly over with poor _Ponto_.’ Holland reflects: ‘I have
got a _King_ without calling one--but I have no _Trump_ now, and I fear
I shall lose all my fish.’
Fox died in September 1806, and was buried, October 10, in Westminster
Abbey, close to the remains of his rival Pitt. With him were buried
the last hopes of a peace with France, and, in October, finding all
negotiations unsuccessful (Great Britain requiring Russia to be made a
party to the Treaty, which France refused), Lord Lauderdale demanded
his passports, and left for England.
Meanwhile, Napoleon marched on from victory to victory. The battle of
Jena, the occupation of Erfurth, Greissen, Hall, Leipzig, Ascherleben,
Bemburg, Spandau, Potsdam, and, lastly, of Berlin, were all in his
triumphal march.
A public entry having made,
At Berlin he his airs display’d;
A Court day absolutely held,
And due attendance there compell’d.
Of Prussia’s King he made a scoff,
And all his little taunts play’d off.
And here he issued a decree,
The most invet’rate that could be,
In hopes t’annoy Great Britain’s trade,
All Commerce with her he forbade.
The Capture he ordain’d, ’tis true,
Of British ships--the seizure, too,
Of letters, if in English written,
Or if directed to Great Britain;
And this he styled--a strange romance!
The fundamental law of France.
The decree is dated from Berlin, November 21, 1806, and, after a
preamble, states:--‘1. The British Islands are declared in a state
of blockade. 2. All trade and intercourse with the British Islands is
prohibited; consequently letters or packets addressed to England, or
written in the English language, will not be conveyed by post, and will
be seized. 3. Every native of England, whatever his rank and condition,
who may be found in the countries occupied by our troops, or by those
of our allies, shall be made prisoners of war. 4. Every warehouse, and
all merchandise and property of any description whatever, belonging
to an English subject, or the produce of English manufactures or
colonies, is declared good prize. 5. Trade in English merchandise is
prohibited, and all merchandise belonging to England, or the produce
of her manufactures, and colonies, is declared good prize. 6. One half
of the produce of the confiscation of the merchandise, and property,
declared good prize by the preceding articles, will be appropriated to
the indemnification of the merchants, for losses they have sustained,
through the capture of trading vessels, by English cruisers. 7. No
vessel coming directly from England, or her colonies, or having been
there since the publication of the present decree, will be received in
any port. 8. Any vessel which, by means of a false declaration, shall
contravene the above article, shall be seized, and the Ship and Cargo
shall be confiscated as if they were English property,’ &c.
The _Times_, of December 8, commenting on this proclamation, says:--‘If
our orders of Council, and our Navy are not competent to seal up the
ports of France, we should be glad to know how Buonaparte, who can
scarce venture to _steal_ a ship to sea, is to retaliate with effect
upon this country. We believe none of the nations, which are yet free
to trade with us, will be deterred by a Decree emitted at Berlin, from
sending their produce to the markets of Britain. Of all the follies
that have ever escaped from Buonaparte, in the extravagance, and
intoxication, of his ambition, and success, this we consider as one
of the greatest. He, in fact, pledges himself to that which he has no
adequate means whatever of carrying into effect. His Decree will have
as little influence upon the trade of England, as his Navy has.’
Ansell designed (December 1806) ‘Jack Tars conversing with Boney on
the Blockade of Old England.’ Napoleon is vapouring about behind his
fortifications, flourishing his sword, ‘The Terror of the Continent,’
and saying: ‘Begar by my Imperial decree, _England_ is in a State of
Blockade.’ Two sailors are in a small boat called the _Nelson_, and
one says: ‘Why what do you mean by that, you whipper snapper--Heres
Tom Pipes, and I, in this little cock boat, will Blockade you so that
you dare not bring out a single vessel--Blockade, indeed! you are a
pretty fellow to talk of blockading!’ His companion contemptuously
adds: ‘I wonder, Jack, you throw away your precious time in talking
to such a lubber.’ John Bull, pipe in hand, stands on the cliffs of
Albion, roaring with laughter. ‘I cannot help laughing at the whimsical
conceit.’
Souley (December 1806) drew ‘Bonaparte blockading John Bull.’
Boney for want of proper Sail,
By threats bombastic would prevail.
Boney and his army are crossing the Channel in their cocked hats; he,
presenting sword and pistol at John Bull, says: ‘I’ll Blockade ye, ye
English Scoundrel. ’Tis you thwart all my designs--’Tis you and you
only who dare oppose MY WILL. But I’ll Blockade ye--and not one of your
rascally Craft shall stir.’ John Bull, convulsed with laughter, is
dancing, and saying: ‘Shiver my timbers, here’s a go! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Why Master Boney you look like Neptune crossing the _Line_. I suppose
next you will be blockading the moon.’
And so ends the year 1806.
CHAPTER XLIV.
NAPOLEON’S POLISH CAMPAIGN--BATTLE OF EYLAU--MEETING OF THE EMPERORS AT
TILSIT--CAPTURE OF THE DANISH FLEET.
1807 commences with ‘JOHN BULL playing on the BASE Villain’ (artist
unknown, January 1, 1807), in which we see that revered personage
playing ‘Britains Strike home’ on poor Boney, with a sword in lieu of a
bow, and grasping him tightly round the neck.
In November 1806, Napoleon, with his army, had entered Poland, and, on
December 18 of the same year, he entered Warsaw.
An unknown artist (January 1807) depicts ‘The Entrance into Poland
or another Bonne Bouche for Boney.’ On their knees are the Polish
magnates, who exclaim: ‘What a happy day for Poland!’ The foremost
is kissing the toe of Napoleon, who says: ‘Rise up _free_ and
_independent_ Polanders, depend upon it you shall have a King, and I’ll
be Vice Roy _over him_.’ Behind, a standard-bearer carries a flag,
on which is shown a pair of shackles, a guillotine, and two crossed
swords, with the legend, ‘Comfort for the Poles.’ Beside him, another
French soldier is emptying a sack of fetters.
The Russians withdrew for a time, but only to return in force, and
Napoleon had to change his tactics to meet them; he therefore proposed
to concentrate his forces, and compel the Russians to give battle, with
the Vistula in their rear, and he himself between them and Russia. His
despatches, however, were intercepted, and the battle was precipitated.
Augereau’s division lost its way, and was cut up by the Russians; and
Bernadotte did not come, as the despatches, bidding him do so, had
been captured. The fight in the snow at Preuss Eylau was fearful, and
the carnage, especially in the churchyard, was horrible. Four thousand
men died there. The French put down their loss in this battle as 2,000
killed, 6,000 wounded; while the loss of the Russians was 7,000 dead,
16,000 wounded, 12,000 prisoners, and 45 cannon taken.
That the blockade still galled us is evidenced by a caricature of
Woodward’s (January 27, 1807), who designed ‘The Giant Commerce
overwhelming the Pigmy Blockade.’ Commerce is a strange figure: its
cap is _Wedgwood ware_, its face _Staffordshire ware_, its eyes _Derby
Porcelain_, and its mouth _Worcester porcelain_. Its body is _Wool_,
arms of _printed calico_, and its hands are encased in _Woodstock
gloves_. It wears a _Norwich shawl_, has _leather_ breeches, _Fleecy
hosiery_ stockings, and _Staffordshire_ shoes. It is actively employed
in hurling various missiles at Napoleon, who is sheltered behind his
fortifications. These implements of offence consist of such articles
as _Birmingham steel_, _pig iron_, _scissors_, _combs_, _knives and
forks_, _block tin_, _sugar_, _patent coffins_, _Birmingham buttons_,
and a cask each of _London porter_, _Maidstone_, _Geneva_, and _British
spirits_. Napoleon entreats: ‘Pray Mr. Commerce don’t overwhelm me, and
I will take off de grande Blockade of old England.’
The two following caricatures were designed and published before the
news had arrived in England of the crushing defeat of the Russians at
Eylau, which only appeared publicly in the ‘Times’ of March 10.
Ansell (March 1807) gives ‘Boney and his Army in Winter Quarters.’
In the background is a _State Prison for Prisoners of War_; and,
in the centre of the picture, the Russian bear hugs poor Boney, and
prepares to drop him in the river Bug, in which is a board inscribed,
‘Hic Jacet. Snug in the Bug several thousands of the great nation.’
Bruin growls: ‘Hush a bye! Hush a bye! take it all quietly, you’ll
soon find yourself as snug as a bug in a rug.’ But Boney, writhing
in the embrace, cries out: ‘Oh D--n the Bug, I wish I had never seen
it. My dear Talley--don’t tell my faithful subjects the true state
of my situation. Any thing but the truth, my dear Talley--Oh this
Cursed Russian bear, how close he hugs me.’ Talleyrand, with one foot
in the Vistula, and the other on land, replies: ‘Leave me alone for
a Bulletin’--applies his lips to a trumpet, from which issues a true
and a false report. The true one, ‘4000 prisoners, 3000 drowned, 12
Eagles taken, 12000 killed,’ is disappearing into thin air; whilst that
‘For Paris’ is as follows: ‘Grand Bulletin. The august Emperor of the
great Nation informs his faithful, and beloved, subjects, that, having
performed wonders on the banks of the Bug, he has now closed a glorious
campaign for the season, and retired with ease, and comfort, into
Winter quarters.’
‘The Political Cock horse’ (Souley, March 10, 1807) shows Napoleon’s
somewhat ragged white charger stumbling over a stone, ‘Insatiable
Ambition.’ Benningsen has jumped up behind him, seized the reins,
and hurled Boney to the ground. In his fall he loses his sword
‘Oppression,’ and cries out pitifully, ‘Stop, stop, good Benningsen,
don’t kill a poor fellow! An Armistice! an Armistice! I have very good
proposals of peace for you.’ But the relentless Russian prepares to run
him through with his sword, saying: ‘You Bombastic Scoundrel, Robber,
Murderer, Violator, Incendiary, &c., &c., &c. You thought of reigning
with your Iron Crown (in) the North, as well as the South. But know,
Tyrant, that the Sons of the North are to be your Superior.’ John Bull
encourages him with ‘Bravo, bravo, brave Russians: One home stroke
more, and good bye to Master Boney.’
[Illustration: THE NEW DYNASTY, OR THE LITTLE CORSICAN GARDENER
PLANTING A ROYAL PIPPIN TREE.]
Of Gillray’s caricature of ‘The New Dynasty; or the little Corsican
Gardener Planting a Royal Pippin Tree,’ only a portion is given--that
relating to Napoleon. The Old Royal Oak is being hewn down by ‘All the
Talents,’ and Talleyrand is busy digging a hole to receive Napoleon’s
royal pippin, which is to take its place. The topmost pippin, which
is crowned, represents Lord Moira, who claimed to be descended from
the old kings of Ballynahinch. The others are, ‘Countess of Salisbury
beheaded 1505,’ ‘Duchess of Cleves put to death in 1453,’ ‘Henry de
la Pole beheaded in 1538,’ ‘Plantagenet beheaded in 1415,’ ‘Crookback
Richard killed at Bosworth,’ ‘Edmund, 4th son of Henry 2, beheaded.’
The royal pippins behind, which have already been planted, and have
taken root, are labelled respectively, ‘Etruria, Wurtemburg, Saxon,
Holland, and Italian;’ whilst on the ground, by a basket, are grafts,
which respectively represent Sir Francis Burdett, Cobbett, and Horne
Tooke.
Napoleon pursued his victories over the Russians. Dantzig was taken;
at Friedland the Russians lost 18,000 men and 25 generals, killed
and wounded, and at last Königsberg was taken by Soult, after having
been evacuated by the Russians. It was time for them to beg for an
armistice, and on June 21 one was concluded. Napoleon was asked to have
an interview with the Emperor of Russia, to which he consented, and
Tilsit was the place appointed; and, in order that this meeting should
be quite private, and free from interruption, Napoleon ordered a large
raft to be moored in the middle of the Niemen, on which was erected a
room with two antechambers, all elegantly furnished and decorated. Both
the roof and the doors were ornamented with French and Russian eagles.
On June 25 they met; Napoleon reached the raft first, and stood on
its edge to welcome Alexander. They met and parted in a most friendly
manner. This incident, it is needless to say, afforded a fine subject
to the caricaturist.
Ansell gives us, certainly, a more comic representation of the meeting
of the Emperors than any other caricaturist (July 1807). Bonaparte is
hugging the Emperor of Russia in a most exaggerated style, saying: ‘My
dear Brother--receive this Fraternal Embrace out of pure affection.’
But Russia, finding the raft tilting violently, and not liking such
demonstrative affection, exclaims, ‘Zounds, Brother, you’ll squeeze me
to death--besides, I find my side of the raft is sinking very fast.’
Poor Prussia is floundering in the water, his crown floating away from
him: ‘What a Prussian cake I was to listen to him--I am afraid I shall
never recover it.’
[Illustration]
Nap, with the hopes of peace delighted,
The Russian Emperor invited,
And for this interview, with craft,
Had been prepar’d a pretty raft,
Which on the river Niemen floated,
With two commodious tents, devoted
To the sole use of the contractors,
Who were indeed conspicuous actors;
The signal given, as commanded,
Each from his boat together landed,
And on this raft, their ends to get,
By Nap, was Alexander met--
Exchanging the fraternal hug
They took their seats in manner snug;
When Nap began his wheedling jargon,
And made, depend on’t, a good bargain.
The peace of Tilsit, as recorded,
A temporary rest afforded.
And now three sovereigns, they say,
Sat down together very gay:
Meaning the Emperor of Russia,
Our hero, and the King of Prussia:
Their visits to each other, they
Alternately were wont to pay.
Napoleon talk’d of this and that,
And entertain’d them with his chat.
Their life guards, who were much delighted,
To dinner, were by Nap invited,
The brotherly embrace went round,
There was not a discordant sound.
In harmony the day they spent,
Each countenance display’d content.
Now matters were so well arrang’d,
A while they uniforms exchang’d,
And after they had dined, and talk’d,
Together through the streets they walked.
Ansell drew (July 1807) ‘An Imperial Bonne bouche, or the dinner at
Tilsit.’ Napoleon, attended by his guards, sits on one side of the
table, and the Emperor of Russia opposite to him; the latter has but
an empty plate, and a castor of cayenne pepper before him, whilst
Napoleon is stuffing his mouth with ‘Continental slices,’ and has
besides, immediately before him, ‘Austerlitz biscuit,’ ‘Friedland Pye,’
and ‘Eylau Custard,’ which he intends carving with his sword. But
he banters his brother Emperor with ‘My dear Brother, you dont eat;
What is the matter with you? see what a hearty meal our other beloved
Cousin, and brother, is making, from the Crumbs that fall from the
table.’ And Prussia is seen on his knees, picking up some fragments of
a ‘Prussian Cake.’ Russia, with expectant knife and fork, looks very
blankly at his _confrère_, and replies: ‘How the deuce, brother, am I
to eat when you keep everything to yourself?’
‘Mutual Honors at Tilsit, or the Monkey, the Bear and the Eagle’
(August 1807), by Ansell, represents Napoleon, as a monkey, seated
on a drum, having a plaque upon his breast, inscribed ‘Order of St.
Andrew, to our Faithful &c. &c. &c. Fudge,’ decorating a bear with
‘The Legion of Honor. To our trusty and beloved Cousin &c. &c. Fudge.’
The poor bear wears a fool’s cap and bells, and is muzzled, whilst
its throat is galled by a spiked collar, called, in irony, ‘Collar
of Independence.’ Napoleon says, ‘Really, Brother Bruin--you never
look’d so fine in your life. You cannot think how the medal, and cap
and bells, become you.’ But the bear ruefully ruminates, ‘I shall
really be ashamed to return to my own Fraternity. I wonder what my old
Friend, the Lion, will say.’ The Prussian eagle is also decorated with
the collar of the Legion of Honour, but is in a wofully dilapidated
condition, which is well explained by its own reflections: ‘It is
certainly very fine--but, what with having one of my heads chopped
off--and the crown half cracked of the other; besides having my wings
cropp’d, I think, somehow, I was better off before.’
The English, perforce, had to keep up their courage, and one etching,
by Ansell (August 1807), represents, in the background, Napoleon on
his throne, and all the European sovereigns grovelling before him.
The foreground is occupied by Britannia and John Bull. The former
asks: ‘Do give me your advice--what am I to do--All my foreign Allies
have deserted me,--even Russia has joined them, they are bending at
the feet of the usurper.’ John Bull, a truculent-looking sailor, with
oaken Cudgel, replies: ‘What are you to do? Why stick to me, your old
and faithful ally John Bull, who will never desert you while he has a
timber to support him.’ The picture is called ‘Britannia in tribulation
for the loss of her Allies, or John Bull’s advice.’
In ‘The Polish Pie, or the Effects of the Peace at Tilsit’ (artist
unknown, September 10, 1807), we see the Emperor of Russia, and
Napoleon, carving a huge ‘Polish pie,’ the Russian’s opinion of which
is ‘I think I never relished a Pie so well in all my life.’ Whilst thus
engaged, comes poor, wounded, tattered Prussia, humbly, with hat in
hand: ‘Pray give a part of the Pie to a poor broken-down Prussian--You
know you promised me formerly you would not touch it; but now you have
reduced me to poverty, crutches, and a wooden leg--you’ll not allow
me a mouthfull, ’tis a very hard case indeed! Pray remember a poor
Prussian!’ Napoleon turns to his brother Emperor, and opines, ‘Suppose,
Cousin, we give him a small piece of the _Crust_, just to keep him from
grumbling.’
The Danes sought to curry favour with Napoleon, or perhaps they were
obliged to act as they did; but they closed their ports, such as
Holstein, &c., to British ships, which John Bull could not stand. So
Admiral Gambier, with a fleet, having on board 20,000 troops, sailed to
set matters right. Negotiations failed, and the admiral used the _force
majeure_ at his disposal. Copenhagen was bombarded, and on September 8
the British took possession of the fortifications, &c., of Copenhagen,
captured the whole Danish fleet, fully armed and equipped, consisting
of 18 sail of the line, 15 frigates, 6 brigs, and 25 gun-boats, which
were safely navigated to England, with the exception of one ship, which
was stranded. Unfortunately, Copenhagen itself suffered severely, guns
not being so scientifically constructed as at present, and accuracy as
to range was impossible.
‘Gulliver towing the Fleet into Lilliput!’ (I. Cruikshank, October
16, 1807) shows Admiral Gambier swimming towards England, towing
the captured vessels. George the Third, on a Martello tower,
watching him through his spy-glass, and saying, with his accustomed
iteration, ‘What, What, Gulliver the 2nd--he--Gulliver the 2nd--More
Nelsons--more Nelsons--brave fellows!’ On the Continent Napoleon
is seen furious, and the countries under his sway are in different
attitudes of despair. Napoleon shouts out, ‘Curse that fellow; here,
Tally, stop him: what! will nobody stop him? Then begar, we never shall
invade England, and all our schemes are frustrated.’ On the coast of
Zealand a Jack Tar is thus explaining to a native: ‘Hold your jaw; You
know as how you used to rob our forefathers, you lubber, and so you
wanted to assist that French Monkey to do it again, but it would not
do.’
Ansell published (October 21, 1807) ‘Malignant Aspects looking with
envy on John Bull and his Satellites, or, a New Planetary System.’ In
a centre medallion sits John Bull, happily smoking, and with a jug of
good October by his side. He is surrounded by the British navy, and a
halo of glory. Rushing towards him is ‘A Corsican Comet Frenchified,’
and chained to him is ‘A Russian bear with two heads, an appendage
to the Comet.’ There is a ‘Danish Mouse,’ an ‘Italian Greyhound,’ an
‘American Torpedo,’ a ‘Swiss Cheese,’ a ‘Spanish Puff,’ a ‘Dutch frog,’
besides many ‘minor Constellations with malignant aspects.’
CHAPTER XLV.
FRENCH ENTRY INTO PORTUGAL--BLOCKADE OF ENGLAND--FLIGHT OF THE
PORTUGUESE ROYAL FAMILY--THE PENINSULAR WAR--FLIGHT OF KING
JOSEPH.
On October 18 or 19 Junot entered Portugal, and then it was that John
Bull began to fear for his stock of port wine. This is very amusingly
put in a picture: ‘In Port, and Out of Port, or news from Portugal,’
which is the title of a caricature by Woodward (November 10, 1807),
and it represents Bonaparte seated on a pipe of ‘Genuine Old Port.’
With folded arms he thus speaks: ‘Now Master Jean Bull--more news
for you. You’ll soon be out of Port.’ A miserable-looking ‘Portugee’
approaches John Bull, with cap in hand, saying: ‘I be, d’ye see, de
poor Portuguese. Vat he mean be de Port Wine; which he will be glad to
change for your bag of guineas dere--begar--but dat is mine--between
ourselves.’ John Bull, who is sitting down, smoking, with a jug of ale
and a huge bagful of guineas by his side, replies: ‘D--n him, and his
_Port_ too--I am snug in _Port_, and while I have the port holes of my
wooden walls, and a glass of home brew’d ale, his conquests shall never
trouble me.’
Napoleon, in a decree dated from Hamburg, November 10, and also in
another dated Milan, December 27, again declared England in a state of
blockade, and he made all under his sway to cease all connection with
that country, as far as commercial matters were concerned; and this is
how the caricaturist met it:--
‘Blockade against Blockade, or John Bull a Match for Boney’ (Ansell,
November 1807), shows the different sides of a ‘Wall of Blockade.’ John
Bull is well victualled, and has a fine surloin of beef, and a full
tankard, &c.; and he says: ‘Now Master Boney, we shall see which will
hold out the longest, my wall against yours. Aye, aye, I can see you. I
have left a peep hole. I believe you will soon be glad to change your
Soup Maigre for my Roast beef.’ Boney, with only a basin of Soup Maigre
before him, looks very disconsolate: ‘Who could have thought that he
would build a wall also--I really think I had better have left him
alone--Some how I don’t relish this Soup Maigre.’
‘The Continental Dockyard,’ by Woodward (November 27, 1807), shows a
very tumbledown erection, called ‘The Gallic Storehouse for English
Shipping,’ but it contains none. It only holds the ‘Yaw Mynheer,’
the ‘Don Diego,’ the ‘Swede,’ the ‘Dane,’ and the ‘Napoleon,’ on
which a number of shipwrights are engaged, being driven to their
task by Napoleon, with drawn sword. He thus addresses the master
shipwright: ‘Begar you must work like de Diable, ve must annihilate
dis John Bull.’ The unlucky foreman replies: ‘Please you, my Grand
Empereur, ’tis no use vatever. As fast as ve do build dem, he vas
clap dem in his storehouse over de way.’ Accordingly, we see in
‘John Bull’s Storehouse’ a large collection of captured vessels from
the Armada--‘Portobello,’ ‘Camperdown,’ ‘St. Vincent,’ ‘Nile,’ and
‘Trafalgar.’ John Bull and a number of sailors enjoy this cheering
sight. Says he to them: ‘I say my lads, if he goes on this way we shall
be overstocked.’ And a sailor remarks: ‘What a deal of pains some
people take for nothing.’
I. Cruikshank (December 20, 1807) gives us ‘The Bear, the Monkey, the
Turkey, and the Bull, or the true cause of the Russian war.’ Bonaparte,
as the French Monkey, is leading the Russian Bear by a collar and
chain, and thus addresses him: ‘The case is this, if you will make war
against that overgrown Bull over the way, you shall have a slice of
that fine Turkey! and the Eastern Star.’ The Turkey is represented as
saying: ‘I wish I was well out of their clutches, but I am afraid they
will have me at last.’ The _Eastern Star_ appears on the horizon, and
represents the Indies. A Bull, on the opposite coast, is in a menacing
attitude, and bellows forth: ‘You had better beware, for, remember the
old adage--When you play with a Bull, take care of his horns.’
‘John Bull refreshing the Bear’s Memory’ is by I. Cruikshank (December
20, 1807), and shows the former worthy opening an enormous volume, his
journal, and thus addressing a crowned bear, who has a collar round his
neck inscribed ‘This bear belongs to Napoleon,’ and who regards the
book through an enormous pair of spectacles. ‘So you say, Master Bruin,
that my visit to Denmark has no parallel in History--do be so good as
to turn your spectacles to this page, and refresh your memory.’ And he
points to a page of his journal, in which is written: ‘The Great, the
Magnanimous, Catherine of Russia seized upon one third of the Kingdom
of Poland, and kept it to herself. These peaceful Danes seized on the
City of Hamburgh.’
On January 1, 1808, I. Cruikshank published ‘Boney stark mad, or more
Ships, Colonies, and Commerce.’ It shows the fleet in the Tagus,
and the British Admiral (Sir Sidney Smith) calling out through his
speaking-trumpet, ‘Bon jour, Monsieur, if you would like a trip to
the Brazils, I’ll conduct you there with a great deal of pleasure;
perhaps you would like a taste of Madeira by the way.’ This is to
Talleyrand, on whom Bonaparte is venting his rage, kicking him, and
tearing off his wig, saying: ‘Stop them, stop them. Murder, fire!
Why did you not make more haste, you hopping rascal? now, all my
hopes are blasted, my revenge disappointed, and--I’ll glut it on
you--Monster--Vagabond--Villain!!!’
The explanation of this caricature is, that as the French army was
marching direct to Lisbon, the whole of the Portuguese Royal family
embarked for the Brazils, on November 29, under convoy of a British
squadron.
‘Delicious Dreams! Castles in the Air! Glorious Prospects! vide an
Afternoon Nap after the Fatigues of an Official Dinner,’ is by Gillray
(April 10, 1808), and shows the Cabinet asleep, a punch-bowl on the
table, and full and empty bottles all around. They are so quiet that
the mice are licking the Treasury plates. Behind Castlereagh’s chair
is a cat (Catalani). Mr. Perceval sleeps with his arms on the table;
the Duke of Portland in the chairman’s seat; Lord Liverpool with his
back to the table; Canning, negligently lolling back in his chair, uses
Lord Melville, who is under the table, as a footstool. The delicious
dream they see has for its background the Tower of London, before which
passes Britannia seated on a triumphal car, fashioned somewhat like a
ship, and drawn by a bull; and, behind the car, chained to it, come,
first, Bonaparte, the Russian Bear, Prussia, Austria, and Spain.
[Illustration]
‘The Corsican Tiger at Bay’ (Rowlandson, July 8, 1808) shows Napoleon
as a Tiger (or rather, as the artist has depicted him, a leopard), with
his fore-feet on four _Royal Greyhounds_, whilst a pack of _Patriotic
Greyhounds_ are rushing to attack him. John Bull, standing on the white
cliffs of Albion, presents his gun at him, singing the nursery rhyme--
‘There was a little man,
And he had a little gun,
And his bullets were made of lead----
D--me, but we’ll manage him amongst us.’ The _Russian Bear_ and
_Austrian Eagle_ are chained together; but Austria thus proposes: ‘Now,
Brother Bruin, is the time to break our chains.’ The Dutch frog, too,
joins in the chorus: ‘It will be my turn to have a slap at him next.’
[Illustration]
‘Boney Bothered, or an unexpected meeting’ (Ansell, July 9, 1808).
This shows Boney having gone right through the world, and, coming out
on the other side, planting his foot on the East Indies, at Bengal;
but he is utterly astonished to find John Bull there also, armed with
his redoubtable oaken cudgel. ‘Begar,’ says he, ‘Monsieur Jean Bull
again! Vat! you know I was come here?’ To which John Bull, from whose
pocket peeps a bundle of _Secret Intelligence_, replies, ‘To be sure I
did--for all your humbug deceptions. I smoked[16] your intentions, and
have brought my Oak Twig with me, so now you may go back again.’
We now come to a period of our history which is interesting to all of
us--the Peninsular War. Napoleon had turned his attention to Spain,
and the Spanish king had abdicated, and been sent to Fontainebleau,
with ample allowances. Joseph Bonaparte had been chosen king of Spain,
and Murat had his kingdom of Naples. But the Spanish nation did not
acquiesce in these arrangements. They broke into open revolt, the
English helping them with arms and money, and, on June 6, the Supreme
Junta formally declared war against Napoleon. This much is necessary to
explain the following caricature:--
[Illustration]
Gillray (July 11, 1808) drew ‘The Spanish Bull fight, or the Corsican
Matador in danger,’ and kindly tells us that ‘The Spanish Bull is so
remarkable for Spirit, that, unless the Matador strikes him dead at
the first blow, the Bull is sure to destroy him.’ In the _Theatre
Royale de l’Europe_ sits George the Third, a trident in one hand, his
spy-glass in the other, keenly watching the exciting fight, as also are
the delighted sovereigns of Europe, the Pope, the Sultan of Turkey,
and the Dey of Algiers. The Spanish Bull has broken the Corsican chain
and collar which bound him, and, trampling on his king, has gored and
tossed the Matador, Napoleon, whose sword is broken in an ineffectual
attempt to despatch the animal. On the ground are three wounded
bulls--Prussian, Dutch, and Danish--bellowing for help.
Woodward gives us a capital caricature in ‘The Corsican Spider in
his web’ (July 12, 1808). Napoleon is there represented as a bloated
spider, ‘Unbounded ambition,’ and he is just swallowing a Spanish fly.
There are plenty of flies in his web--Austrian, Dutch, Portuguese,
Hanoverian, Etrurian, Prussian, Hamburg, Italian, Venetian, and small
flies innumerable. The Pope fly is just being entangled, and says, ‘I
am afraid I shall be dragg’d in.’ ‘The Russian Fly’ has touched the
fatal web, and exclaims, ‘I declare I was half in the web before I made
the discovery.’ In fact, the only two that are as yet free from the
baneful mesh is the Turkish fly, who thinks, ‘I am afraid it will be my
turn next,’ and the British fly, who, well and hearty, calls out, ‘Ay,
you may look, master Spider, but I am not to be caught in your web.’
To understand the next caricature, which, though dated July 27, must
have been published somewhat later, we must note that Joseph Bonaparte
entered Madrid, in state, on July 20, but, ominously, without any
welcome from the _people_: although money was scattered broadcast, none
but the French picked it up. He knew little of what was going on--how
Moncey had been obliged to raise the siege of Valencia, and that Dupont
had surrendered at Baylen. This latter piece of news he did not receive
till the 26th or 27th of July; when he learned also that Castaños,
with constantly increasing forces, was marching towards Madrid, he left
that city for Vittoria.
A broadside caricature (artist unknown, July 27, 1808) shows Joseph
leaving Madrid, his crown falling off, heading his troops, who are
carrying off heaps of treasure. It is headed ‘Burglary and Robbery!!!
Whereas on the night of the 20th of July last, a numerous gang of
French Banditti entered the City of Madrid, and burglariously broke
into the Royal Palace, National Bank, and most of the Churches thereof,
murdering all who opposed them in their infamous proceedings.
‘The said banditti remained in Madrid until the 27th of the said month,
and then suddenly departed, laden with immense booty, having stolen
from thence several waggon-loads of plate, and every portable article
of value, taking the road to France; all patriotic Spaniards are hereby
requested to be aiding, and assisting, in the apprehension of all, or
any, of the said robbers; and, whoever apprehends all, or any, of them,
shall receive the thanks, and blessings, of every well-disposed person
in Europe.
‘The said Banditti were headed by _Joe Nap_, a ferocious ruffian of
the following description:--He is about five feet seven inches high,
of a meagre, squalid aspect, saffron-coloured complexion. He was,
when he escaped, habited in a _royal robe_, which he is known to have
stolen from the King’s Wardrobe at Naples. He is a brother of the
_noted thief_ who has committed numberless robberies all over Europe,
_murdered millions of the human race_, and who was latterly at Bayonne,
where it is supposed he tarried, for the purpose of _receiving the
stolen goods_ which his brother was to bring from Spain.’
The war, in aid of Spain, against France, was now taken up in earnest,
and Sir Arthur Wellesley was sent to Spain with a large body of troops,
whilst reinforcements were to come from other quarters.
Almost one of the last of Gillray’s political caricatures, and a
very good one it is, is ‘Apotheosis of the Corsican Phœnix’ (August
2, 1808). It has an imaginary quotation from a supposed ‘New Spanish
Encyclopædia, edit. 1808. When the Phœnix is tired of Life, he builds
a Nest upon the mountains, and setting it on Fire by the wafting of
his own Wings, he perishes Himself in the Flames! and from the smoke
of his Ashes arises a new _Phœnix_ to illumine the world!!!’ This very
graphic etching shows, on the summit of the Pyrenees, a globe, which is
the nest of the Phœnix--Napoleon, with orb and sceptre, but, his crown
falling off, he has fanned all Europe into a blaze with his wings.
Around his neck is a ‘cordon d’honneur’ of daggers, and, amid the smoke
which rises from the pyre, is seen a dove with olive branch, having on
its wings ‘Peace on earth.’
I. Cruikshank still kept up the idea of _Tiddy-Doll_ in ‘The Oven on
Fire--or Boney’s last Batch entirely spoiled!!!’ (August 24, 1808.) He
is on his knees, with arms outspread in consternation, for, in putting
Dupont, on a ‘peel,’ into the oven--‘Spain and Portugal’--flames burst
out, labelled Asturian Legions, Army of Portugal, Biscay, Catalonian
Army, Army of Galicia, Andalusian Army, Army of New and Old Castille,
British Army and Fleet, Estramadurean Army, Leon, Army of Valencia,
Murcia, and Army of Granada; whilst in the centre of the flames is
the legend ‘A people United can never be conquered.’ Poor Dupont
exclaims, ‘Oh Nap, Nap! what is this? Instead of a King, you’ve only
made me a Dup(e)ont.’ Bonaparte himself cries out, ‘Zounds, I shall
be overwhelmed with this Patriotic Blaze. I did not think there was a
single spark left, but I find there is more than all the Engines of
France can extinguish.’ Talleyrand, who stands by his kneading-trough,
which is labelled ‘State Prison,’ rests quiet, and says, ‘Aye
Aye, I told you that you would burn your fingers at that batch of
Ginger-bread--but I have nothing to do with it. I am only a _Jailor_,
so there is an end to all my glory.’
We have seen the European monarchs sitting down to a game of quadrille.
Ansell (August 1808) gives us its conclusion. Spain has suddenly
arisen, and, upsetting the table, seizes Napoleon by the throat,
accusing him of foul play: ‘I tell you, you are a Scoundrel, and if
you do not restore my King, whom you have stolen from the other table,
and reinstate _Ponto_--by the honor of a Spanish Patriot, I will
strangle you.’ Trembling Bonaparte replies, ‘Don’t be so boisterous,
I only borrowed him, merely to make up the pack.’ The Pope is on the
floor, and the stolid Dutchman, with his hat in hand, says, ‘Donder
and Blixens, I be quite tired of de game. Yaw! Yaw! now is de time
for me to rise.’ At the other table all take a lively interest in the
squabble. George the Third rises from his seat and grasps his ‘heart
of oak’ stick, saying, ‘What! what! a dust, eh? so much the better.
Boney got the worst of the game. I must lend a hand.’ Russia, with hand
on sword, turns in his chair, remarking that ‘Now is the time to rub
off the rust of Tilsit.’ Prussia rises, exclaiming, ‘If I don’t take
advantage of the present opportunity, I shall indeed be a Prussian
Cake.’ Austria reaches his hat and sword from its peg on the wall,
and says, ‘Ah! Ah! the game has taken a different turn from what I
expected, I must not be idle.’
The next caricature relates to the bad success of Napoleon’s arms.
The raising the siege of Saragossa, the defeat of Vimiera, and the
Convention of Cintra, by which the French were to evacuate Portugal,
were not facts likely to be relished in France.
‘The Fox and the Grapes’ is another of Woodward’s (September 15, 1808),
where the Corsican Fox interviews the Gallic Cock. The former says,
‘Believe me, my dear Doodle doo, you would not like them--I found them
so _sour_ that I absolutely could not _touch_ them,’ in answer to the
Cock’s query--‘But my good friend, you promised to bring me home some
Spanish Grapes and Portugal plums: where are they?’
‘Prophecy explained’ is by Rowlandson (September 17, 1808), and the
text taken is from the Revelation of St. John (chap. xvii. verse 10):
‘And there are seven kings, five are fallen, and _one_ is, and the
other is not yet come, and when he cometh he must continue but a short
space.’ The five that are fallen are the Kings of Würtemberg, Saxony,
Holland, Bavaria, and Prussia, and these have fallen into a ‘Slough of
Disgrace and Ridicule.’ The ‘_one_ that is,’ it is needless to say,
is Napoleon; and the ‘one that continued but a short space,’ is King
Joseph, who, having been chased beyond the Pyrenees, has his crown
snatched from him. There are many other caricatures on this subject
of the flight of Joseph, but, although interesting, they hardly come
within the scope of _personal_ satire on Napoleon.
Rowlandson gives us (September 20, 1808) ‘Napoleon the little in a Rage
with his great French Eagle!!’ Napoleon, with his sword drawn, and his
hands clenched, is in a terrible rage with his brother Joseph, who,
under the guise of a crowned eagle, is limping along with one leg in a
sling. Napoleon thus addresses him: ‘Confusion and Destruction--what
is this I see? Did I not command you not to return till you had spread
your Wing of Victory over the whole Spanish Nation?’ And the poor bird
meekly replies: ‘Aye, its fine talking Nap, but if you had been there,
you would not much have liked it--The Spanish Cormorants pursued me in
such a manner, that they not only disabled one of my legs, but set me
a moulting in such a terrible way that I wonder I had not lost every
feather; besides, it got so hot, I could not bear it any longer.’
There is a caricature (September 24, 1808) of ‘A hard passage, or Boney
playing Base on the Continent.’ He is here represented as playing on
the bass viol from the score of the ‘Conquest of Spain and Portugal.’
His task seems hard, and he exclaims: ‘Plague take it! I never met
with so difficult a _passage_ before. But, if I can once get over the
_Flats_, we shall do pretty well, for you see the _Key_ will then
change into _B_ sharp.’ A muzzled Russian bear is trying to play on the
French horn, and says: ‘Why that is _Natural_ enough, brother Boney,
though this _French horn_ of yours seems rather out of order.’
CHAPTER XLVI.
PENINSULAR WAR, _continued_--MEETING AT ERFURT.
[Illustration]
‘The Valley of the Shadow of Death’ is, as far as I know, the last
caricature of Gillray (September 24, 1808) in connection with
Napoleon--if, indeed, it can be called a caricature, for it is far
too serious in its conception. Napoleon’s situation at the moment is
here firmly grasped. He is surrounded by enemies. With notched sword
in hand, he leads the Russian bear. He is pursued by the German eagle
and the spirit of Charles XII. Above is the ‘Turkish New Moon Rising
in blood,’ the obscured portion of which is represented by ‘French
Influence,’ the bright crescent as ‘English Influence,’ and the whole
is dropping blood. A fiery comet, with a tiara as a nucleus (the Pope),
is darting thunderbolts of excommunication upon him; whilst Junot
and Dupont, shackled together at their necks, amidst clouds, seem to
warn him of his fate. Immediately in front of him is a _Portuguese
wolf_, which has broken its chain, a _Sicilian terrier_, and the _Leo
Britannicus_. Death also appears, lance in one hand, hour-glass in the
other, on a mule of ‘True Royal Spanish breed.’ In the Ditch of Styx
is disappearing ‘Rex Joseph,’ whose hands and crown alone appear above
water. Creeping upwards from the slime of the _Lethean Ditch_, is ‘The
Rhenish Confederation of starved Rats, crawling out of the Mud,’ also
‘Dutch Frogs spitting out their spite’; whilst the ‘American Rattle
Snake is shaking his tail,’ and the ‘Prussian scarecrow is attempting
to fly.’
Certainly ‘Nap and his Partner Joe’ is not one of Rowlandson’s happiest
efforts (September 29, 1808). Some Dons are kicking the brothers into
the gaping jaws of a devil, singing meanwhile, ‘So seeing we were
finely nick’d. Plump to the Devil we boldly kick’d. Both _Nap_ and his
Partner _Joe_.’
[Illustration]
‘Nap and His fiends in their glory’ (October 1, 1808) shews him, his
brother Joseph, Death, and the Devil, carousing. Napoleon is rising
and giving a toast. ‘Come, gentlemen, here is success to Plunder and
Massacre.’ There is below a song to the tune of ‘Drops of Brandy.’
NAP.
These Spaniards are terrible rogues,
They will not submit to my fetters;
With patience so gracefully worn,
Nay, sought for, by Nations their betters.
But let us return to the Charge
And no longer with lenity treat them.
Once get them to lay down their arms,
And I warrant, brave boys, we shall beat them.
Rum ti iddidy--iddidy
Rum ti iddidy--ido.
DEATH.
Brother Boney, we’ll never despair,
A trusty good friend I have found you.
Kill, plunder, and burn and destroy,
And deal desolation around you.
Then gaily let’s push round the glass,
We’ll sing and we’ll riot and revel,
And I’m sure we shall have on our side
Our very good friend, here, the Devil.
Rum ti, &c.
THE DEVIL.
Believe me, friend Death, you are right.
Although I’m an ugly old fellow,
When mischief is getting afloat,
O! then I am jolly and mellow.
As soon as these Spaniards are crush’d,
Again we’ll be merry and sing Sirs,
And that we will quickly accomplish,
And _Joey_ here, he shall be King, Sirs.
Rum ti, &c.
DON JOEY.
Excuse me from lending my aid,
You may jointly pursue them and spike them;
But lately, I’ve seen them--and own,
I speak the plain truth,--I don’t like them.
They _Liberty_ cherish so dear,
That they constantly make her their guide, O,
Who pleases may make themselves King,
But may I be d--d if I do.
Rum ti, &c.
[Illustration: APOLLYON, THE DEVIL’S GENERALISSIMO, ADDRESSING HIS
LEGIONS.]
‘Apollyon, the Devil’s Generalissimo, addressing his legions,’ a
portion of which is here reproduced, is by I. Cruikshank (October
7, 1808). His speech is as follows: ‘Legions of Death. After having
ravished, murdered, and plundered, on the banks of the Danube, and the
Vistula, I shall order you to march through France, without allowing
you a moment’s rest!! I have occasion for you--the hideous presence
of _Religion_, and _Loyalty_, contaminates the Continent of Spain,
and Portugal. Let your _aspect_ drive them away from thence; let us
carry our conquering Eagles to the gates of Heaven: _there also we
have an injury to avenge_--you have exceeded all modern murderers--you
have placed yourselves on a level with the most _ferocious
cannibals_--Eternal War, Robbery, and Plunder shall be the reward of
your Exertions, for I never can enjoy rest till the Sea is covered with
your Blood!!’ And the army rejoice, shouting: ‘Ha, Ha, more Blood!’
A rather clever broadside, artist unknown (October 1808), shows us
‘General Nap turned Methodist Preacher.’ Napoleon, in a black gown,
occupies the pulpit, having in his hand a musket with fixed bayonet, on
which is a windmill, and, in his wig, he has fixed a cross, tricoloured
flag, surmounted by a cap of liberty, and a crescent. In the vestry
hang a military uniform, an episcopal mitre, and chasuble, or cope--a
Turkish costume, a bottle of arsenic for the poor sick of Jaffa, a
musket labelled ‘Scarecrow,’ and a bloody dagger, which does duty as
the ‘Imperial Cross.’ A general acts as clerk, the organ pipes are
cannon, and the audience, when not military, is seated on drums. The
letterpress is as follows: ‘General Nap turned Methodist Preacher, a
new attempt to gull the credulous; dedicated to Mr. Whitbread. “_Dear
Sam, repeat my Words, but not my Actions._” “Dearly beloved brethren,
Honour, Country, liberty! this is the order of the day; far from us
all idea of conquest, bloodshed, and war. Religion and true Philosophy
must ever be our maxim. Liberty, a free Constitution, and no Taxes,
that is our cry. No Slave trade; humanity shudders at the very thought
of it!! The brave, the excellent, English detest it. Yea, we shall all
be happy. Commerce, Plenty, and all sorts of pretty things will be
our lot. Good Jacobins, rise and assert your rights. And you, brave
soldiers, the honour of France, Plunder and Blood shall once more be
your cry. Double pay and cities burnt will come down in showers upon
you. Yea! ye shall all be Generals, all be members of the Legion of
Honour! The Eagles will once more cover the world. Now is the time to
destroy Great Britain, that treacherous country which always seeks our
ruin. Honour and Victory will lead us.
‘“Dear Countrymen, without good faith there is no tie in this world.
Dear Jacobins, we all acknowledge no God, and nothing else. Let the
Altars be lighted up, and your organs play the Marseillois, that sacred
air, which fires every Frenchman’s breast. Yea, I swear by this holy
Cross I now hold in my hands, and in this sacred place, that you are
all free, and without restraint, that my intentions are pure, and that
I wish for nothing else but Peace, Plunder, and Liberty! Amen!!”’
‘Political Quacks, or the Erfurt Co-partnership commencing Business’
(artist unknown, November 1808) shows Napoleon, as a quack doctor, on
a stage with a muzzled bear (Russia), who is distributing handbills,
and says: ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I am proud to say, as well as my
muzzle will permit me, that I have a large share in the concern.’
Seated behind Napoleon are his different patients, whilst Death,
grinning through a curtain, calls out: ‘Walk up, walk up, kill or
cure.’ Napoleon himself, as the quack doctor, has in his hand one of
his famous cannon-ball pills, one of which ‘is a dose,’ and a trayful
of them is on the floor of the stage. They are named Naples, Egypt,
Lodi, Alps, Switzerland, &c.; and he declaims: ‘Ladies and Gentlemen,
depend upon it here is no deception. Observe the patients ranged behind
me. On my right, a Prussian Gentleman, who was much afflicted with a
complication of disorders, till I cured him by administering a few
leaden Boluses--next to him is an Austrian patient, entirely reliev’d
by my Austerlitz draught, next to him is a Spaniard, whose case is
rather doubtful--I won’t say much about it. The next is a Dutchman--he
was a little crack’d, but I have made him as lame as a frog--beyond
him is an old gentleman of the Popish persuasion, whom I cured with
one bottle of my Italian drops--there are many more in the background,
whom I have cured of various disorders, or have now in my care--but,
Ladies and Gentlemen, let me particularly draw your attention to the
great Russian bear, once a very fierce animal, but dumb like the rest
of his species, but after taking a dose of my Friedland Pills, and
an application of the Tilsit powder, he is able to converse like a
rational being!!!’ Talleyrand, who is on the stage, calls out: ‘Ah,
Master Bull, what, are you among the crowd? come now, you and your
Sweedish Friend had better step up into the Booth, and take a dose
or two of my Master’s pills.’ But John Bull surlily declines the
invitation with, ‘We’ll see you and your Master d--d first.’
This of course refers to the meeting of Napoleon and Alexander at
Erfurt, where, besides, were collected the Kings of Prussia, Saxony,
Bavaria, Würtemberg, and Westphalia, the Prince Primate, the Princes of
Anhalt, Coburg, Saxe Weimar, Darmstadt, Baden, Nassau, and Mecklenburg.
The two great potentates rivalled each other in their courtesies. But
solid business was also to be done; they did not meet simply to waste
their time in fêtes. Napoleon engaged not to meddle with Alexander’s
designs on Sweden and Turkey, and not to help the Poles. Alexander,
on his side, promised not to interfere in Spain, and to recognise the
Kings of Spain and Naples. And they wrote a joint letter to George the
Third, proposing a general peace, on the basis that each should keep
what he had. The English Government, however, asked that Spain and
Sweden should be parties; but this, not suiting the designs of the
Imperial thieves, the negotiations came to an end.
Nap, with the Russian Emp’ror, now,
Became quite free, we must allow;
At Erfurth, the appointed spot,
They met together, as I wot,
And German kings and princes, too,
Were present at this interview;
Save Emp’ror Francis,[17] who, they say,
Sent an apology that day.
How many compliments were paid,
How great the pomp that was display’d.
Oh, nothing--nothing could be grander
Than Bonaparte and Alexander!
Alternately they dined together,
And often rode out in fine weather;
To be so jovial, gay, and free,
Suited Napoleon to a T.
Thro’ Alexander’s mediation
With England, a negociation
Was set a going, for the end
Of leaving Spain without a friend.
The British monarch, ever wise,
Refus’d t’ abandon his allies,
Still Spain by England was protected,
And Boney’s terms with scorn rejected.
An unknown artist (November 19, 1808) gives ‘The Progress of the
Emperor Napoleon.’ At first he is represented as ‘A Ragged Headed
Corsican Peasant’; next, ‘Studying mischief at the Royal Academy at
Paris’; then ‘An Humble Ensign in a Republican Corps requesting a
situation in the British Army’; afterwards, ‘A determined Atheistical
Republican General, ordering his men to fire on the Parisians vollies
of grape shot.’ He then changes to ‘A Turk at Grand Cairo’; afterwards
he became ‘A runaway from Egypt’; then ‘A devout Catholic,’ and,
finally, ‘An Emperor on a throne of iniquities’: on which throne is
inscribed, ‘Murders--Duke d’Enghien, Prisoners at Jaffa, Palm, Capt.
Williams, Pichegru, Cahon, Toussaint, &c., &c. Robberies innumerable.’
CHAPTER XLVII.
RETREAT TO CORUNNA--THE BROKEN BRIDGE OVER THE DANUBE--WAGRAM--
JOSEPHINE’S DIVORCE.
In the year 1809 there are very few caricatures of Napoleon. After the
taking of Madrid, Sir John Moore thought it prudent to retreat, which
he did, and, after many difficulties, reached Corunna. The repulse
of the French there, although at the cost of Sir John Moore’s life,
enabled the troops to be embarked.
Napoleon had but little rest, for in March the Austrians again took
up arms against him, to which he replied by victoriously marching to
Vienna, which was bombarded before it capitulated. One incident in
this campaign was seized upon by the caricaturist. There had been much
fighting about Aspern and Essling, with pretty equal fortune, until the
destruction of a bridge, caused by a sudden rise of the Danube, which
brought down timber rafts, barges, &c., deprived Napoleon of all the
advantage he had gained, and compelled him to retreat to the island of
Lobau.
There is a caricature by Rowlandson (June 12, 1809) of ‘Boney’s Broken
Bridge.’ An aged general, cocked-hat in hand, is thus addressing
Napoleon: ‘With all due deference to your little Majesty--It was the
Austrian Fire-boats that destroyed the Bridge.’ Napoleon, however,
turns on him savagely, and, pointing to the broken bridge, says, ‘Ah!
who is it that dares contradict me, I say it was some floating timber,
and the high swell of the river that caused the Shocking Accident.’
The Austrian army, on the opposite bank, are singing a paraphrase of
‘London bridge is broken down’:--
Boney’s Bridge is broken down,
Dance over the Lady Lea--
Boney’s Bridge is broken down,
By an Arch Duke--ee.[18]
Ansell gives his version of this event, shewing the Austrian Archduke,
pickaxe in hand, having destroyed the bridge, and, pointing to some
ducks and geese, he sings:--
The Ducks and the Geese with ease swim over,
Fal de rol de rido, Fal de rol de rido.
The Ducks and the Geese with ease swim over,
Fal de rol de rido, Fal de rol de rido.
But Napoleon, dancing with rage, on the other side, yells out, ‘You
Rascal you! How dare you break down my Bridge, If I knew how to get
over, this invincible arm should make you repent your rashness.’ In the
background an officer calls out to the army, ‘Invincible Army go back,
the bridge is broke down and we should not be able to run away.’
It was in this retreat that Lannes was killed--but it was avenged at
Wagram, a battle that so crippled the Austrians that they had to ask an
armistice, which afterwards led to a peace between the rival nations.
It seems he wanted satisfaction,
So Wagram was the scene of action.
By some, however, ’tis believ’d,
The Emp’ror Francis was deceiv’d,
That Boney had, in his caprice,
Made secret overtures for peace,
And a connubial match propos’d
With which the Cabinet had clos’d;
They having been assured, that by it
They should be peaceable and quiet.
And that great Bonaparte might seem
A victor worthy of esteem,
Unknown to Francis they acceded,
To such a battle as he needed;
So that the battle of Wagram,
They say was nothing but a sham--
In other words,--tho’ low, but certain,
‘’Twas all my eye and Betty Martin.’
But if a sham, as it is said,
The farce was admirably played,
For twenty thousand men each lost,
So that they acted to their cost;
But, be ’t a real one, or a mock,
They fought both days till six o’clock;
Nap to the vict’ry laid claim,
And saved the credit of his name.
Hostilities began to cease,
It seems both parties thought of peace.
Sauler (August 1809) shews us ‘The rising Sun, or a view of the
Continent.’ This rising sun is inscribed ‘Spain and Portugal,’ and
gives great uneasiness to Napoleon, who says, ‘The rising sun has
set me upon thorns.’ He is employed in rocking a cradle, in which
peacefully reposes a Russian bear, muzzled with ‘Boney’s Promises.’
Behind is Sweden, who brandishes his sword, calling to Russia to ‘Awake
thou Sluggard, ere the fatal blow is struck, and thou and thy execrable
ally sink into eternal oblivion.’ Holland is fast asleep, and leans
against Napoleon. Poland is represented by a shadow, and Denmark wears
a huge extinguisher on his head. Turkey is virtually dead, on the
ground; but Austria is springing into activity, exclaiming, ‘Tyrant,
I defy thee and thy Cursed Crew.’ Prussia is depicted as a lunatic,
with straws in his hair, wearing a strait-waistcoat, and, with a very
vacuous expression of countenance, is singing, ‘Fiddle diddle dee,
Fiddle diddle dee, The Mouse has married the humble bee--and I am
Emperor of the Moon.’ Underneath are the following lines:--
Just as the Rising Sun dispels
The gloom of night to bless us with new day,
So genuine Patriotism expels
Vindictive Tyrants from despotic Sway.
Thus Spain, the source of patriotic worth
(A Rising Sun of Freedom to the Earth),
Invites the Captive Nations to forego
The Yoke and crush their sanguinary foe.
Why then, ye Nations, will ye not embrace
The proffer’d Freedom smiling in your face?
Why dilly-dally when to sink or rise
Rests with yourselves--dare ye contemn the prize--
Is Freedom nothing worth, that for her sake
Ye dare not e’en _one_ gen’rous effort make?
Alas! infatuated Monarchs see,
What is, and what your Fate must _ever_ be.
_Spain_ is a Sun arising to illume
The threefold horrors of your future doom,
While she on Freedom’s golden wings shall tow’r,
The Arbitress of Continental pow’r.
_Russia_’s a Bear amid impending woes,
Rock’d by th’ insidious Tyrant to repose.
_Sweden_’s a Warrior of distinguished worth,
Sweden hath giv’n to many heroes birth.
_Austria_’s a Phœnix rising renovated,
Whose genial warmth with Spain, incorporated,
Longer disdains to crouch at the fell shrines
Of Usurpation, and the foulest crimes.
_Prussia_, poor _Prussia_, with straightjacket on,
And Crown of Straw, proves what delays have done.
_Denmark_ too, half extinguish’d, shows,
The fruits of leaguing with old England’s foes.
And _Holland_, drowsy _Holland_, dreams
Of aggrandizement, potent Kings and Queens.
While _Poland_, a mere shadow in the rear
(As proof of something _once_ existent there),
Yields to the Yoke, nor dares its shackles break,
Lest by so doing, she her _Freedom_ stake.
Poor silly mortals, will ye ever bow
To the dread Shrine of Tyranny and Woe;
Or by co-operation overwhelm
The Scourge of Nations, and resume the Helm?
One of the great events of this year, as regards Napoleon, was his
divorce from Josephine. That he loved her, as far as he could love any
woman, there is no doubt; but there were State reasons why he should
have another consort. His ambition could not be satisfied till he had
an heir male of his own. The dynasty he fondly hoped to found ought not
to descend to any of his brothers; and none but his own son could have
any hold upon the affection of the French nation.
Nap oftentimes began to swear
That he must get a son and heir--
He, with affected sorrow, told
His present lady was too old,
He might as well have her grandmother,
And therefore he must seek another;
Yes, seek another,--so of course,
He intimated a divorce--
That with propriety, like Harry
The Eighth, another he might marry.
This was enforc’d by his mamma,
And recommended by Murat.
Yet at this very time, good lack!
He had a violent attack,
A kind of stupor he was in,
Attended by his Josephine;
And, as a certain author says,
It lasted very near two days;
On his recovery, he cried,
‘A son and heir I must provide;’
Then giving Josephine a look,
His head repeatedly he shook,
He said--(he could refrain no longer)--
‘I wish, my dear, that you were younger,
But you are old, and I despair
Of ever getting now an heir.’
While this he said, with doleful phiz,
She told him that the fault was his;
For several children she’d before,
And hoped to have as many more.
Now Josephine display’d her spirit,
Of patriotism she made a merit:
‘If,’ she observ’d, ‘our separation
Will be of service to the nation,
Then I agree, with all my heart,
My dearest Emperor--to part--
That you may seek another fair,
And, if you can, provide an heir.’
When kindly her consent she gave
Nap scarcely knew how to behave;
At Josephine awhile he star’d,
He humm’d a bit, and then declar’d,
For fifteen years to him she’d been
All that was lovely and serene,
And that no better for himself e’er
Wou’d wish, but for his country’s welfare--
Of course, for a successor’s sake,
The sacrifice he needs must make.
He found no fault, as it appears,
But that she was advanc’d in years;
To follies past he ne’er alluded,
For no such sentiment intruded;
’Twas not for this he wish’d to sever,
Her virtue he suspected never;
On this occasion, Nap, ’tis said,
A fine speech to the Senate made,
Assuring them it was with pain,
He a divorce strove to obtain;
For still he Josephine regarded,
Tho’ as a consort now discarded;
But, notwithstanding, she should reign
And be considered as a queen.
Josephine, with an air divine,
Declar’d the throne she would resign,
And hop’d her Boney might, ere long,
Meet with a lady fair and young,
And in nine months procure a boy,
To be his comfort and his joy.
’Twas on the 15th of December,[19]
As the Parisians well remember,
The parties in full court appear’d
And by a large assembly cheer’d;
A kind of form took place, of course,
Which fully strengthened the divorce--
The Senate sent a deputation,
To ratify the separation,
Which, that it might be ne’er repeal’d,
Was, in their presence, sign’d and seal’d.
Nap was a long time ere he sign’d--
A proof of a perturbed mind;
But some have thought, and so they might,
’Twas inability to write.
Soon as the pen the lady took,
Her hand for several minutes shook,
A proof of sorrow and regret,
Tho’ she did not appear to fret.
And ’twas the opinion of the sage
That it proceeded from old age.
When thus divorc’d--a parting kiss
Was confirmation of their bliss.’
How Josephine herself felt on this subject is pathetically told by
Madame Junot, with an excessively womanly grace:--
‘I had an interview with the Empress at Malmaison: I went thither to
breakfast by invitation, accompanied by my eldest daughter Josephine,
to whom she was much attached.... “And Madame Mère, have you seen
her since your return?” “Certainly, Madame, I have already been in
waiting.” Upon this, the Empress drew closer to me--she was already
very near--and, taking both my hands, said, in a tone of grief which is
still present to my mind after an interval of four-and-twenty years:
“Madame Junot, I entreat you to tell me all you have heard relating to
me. I ask it as an especial favour--you know they all desire to ruin
me, my Hortense, and my Eugène. Madame Junot, I again entreat, as a
favour, that you will tell me all you know!”
‘She spoke with the greatest anxiety; her lips trembled, and her hands
were damp and cold. In point of fact she was right, for there could
be no more direct means of knowing what was passing, relative to her,
than by learning what was said in the house of Madame Mère. But it
was indiscreet, perhaps, to ask these questions of me. In the first
place, I should not have repeated the most insignificant sentence
which I had heard in Madame’s drawing-room; in the second, I was quite
at ease upon the subject; for, since my return, I had not heard the
word _divorce_ uttered by Madame, or the princesses. The strength of
mind of the unfortunate wife failed totally on hearing the dreadful
word pronounced; she leant upon my arm and wept bitterly. “Madame
Junot,” she said, “remember what I say to you this day, here, in this
hothouse--this place which is now a paradise, but which may soon become
a desert to me--remember that this separation will be my death, and it
is they who have killed me?”
‘She sobbed. My little Josephine, running to her, pulled her by the
shawl to shew her some flowers she had plucked, for the Empress was so
fond of her, as even to permit her to gather flowers in her greenhouse.
She took her in her arms, and pressed her to her bosom, with an almost
convulsive emotion. The child appeared frightened; but, presently,
raising her head, and shaking the forest of light silken curls which
clustered round her face, she fixed her large blue eyes upon the
agitated countenance of her godmother, and said: “I do not like you to
cry.” The Empress again embraced her tenderly, and setting her down,
said to me: “You can have little idea how much I have suffered when
any of you has brought a child to me! Heaven knows, I am not envious,
but in this one case I have felt as if a deadly poison were creeping
through my veins, when I have looked upon the fresh and rosy cheek of
a beautiful child, the joy of its mother, but, above all, the hope of
its father! And I! struck with barrenness, shall be driven in disgrace
from the bed of him who has given me a crown! Yet God is witness that I
love him more than my life, and much more than that throne, that crown,
which he has given me!”
‘The Empress may have appeared more beautiful, but never more
attractive, than at that moment. If Napoleon had seen her then, surely
he could never have divorced her.’
We have a most touching account in ‘Memes’s Memoirs of the Empress
Josephine:’ ‘The divorce was, unquestionably, a melancholy reverse of
fortune for Josephine, which she felt most severely, but she bore it
with magnanimity. The particulars of the interview between her and the
Emperor are very affecting. When Napoleon mentioned the necessity of a
Divorce, he approached Josephine, gazed on her for a while, and then
pronounced the following words: “Josephine, my excellent Josephine,
thou knowest if I have loved thee! To thee, to thee alone do I owe
the only moments of happiness which I have enjoyed in this world.
Josephine! my destiny overmasters my will. My dearest affections must
be silent before the interests of France.” “Say no more,” she replied,
“I was prepared for this; but the blow is not less mortal!”
‘Josephine, on hearing from his own lips the determination of the
Emperor, fainted, and was carried to her chamber. At length the fatal
day arrived.
‘On December 15, 1809, the Imperial Council of State was convened, and,
for the first time, officially informed of the intended separation.
On the morrow, the whole of the family assembled in the grand salon
at the Tuileries. All were in Court costume. Napoleon’s was the only
countenance which betrayed emotion, but ill concealed by the drooping
plumes of his hat of ceremony. He stood motionless as a statue, his
arms crossed upon his breast: the members of his family were seated
around, showing in their expression less of sympathy with so painful
a scene, than of satisfaction, that one was to be removed, who had so
long held influence, gently exerted as it had been, over their brother.
In the centre of the apartment was placed an armchair, and, before
it, a small table with a writing apparatus of gold. All eyes were
directed to that spot, when a door opened, and Josephine, pale but calm
appeared, leaning on the arm of her daughter, whose fast falling tears
shewed that she had not attained the resignation of her mother. Both
were dressed in the simplest manner. Josephine’s dress of white muslin
exhibited not a single ornament. She moved slowly, and with wonted
grace, to the seat provided for her, and there listened to the reading
of the act of separation. Behind her chair stood Hortense, whose sobs
were audible, and a little farther on, towards Napoleon, Eugène,
trembling as if incapable of supporting himself. Josephine heard in
composure the words that placed an eternal barrier between her and
greatness, between her and the object of her affection. This painful
duty over, the Empress appeared to acquire a degree of resolution from
the very effort to resign with dignity the realities of title for ever.
Pressing, for an instant, the handkerchief to her eyes, she rose, and,
with a voice which, but for a slight tremor, might have been called
firm, pronounced the oath of acceptance; then, sitting down, she took
the pen from the hand of the Comte Regnault St. Jean d’Angely, and
signed it. The mother and daughter now left the salon, followed by
Eugène, who appeared to suffer most severely of the three.
‘The sad incidents of the day had not yet been exhausted. Josephine
had remained unseen, sorrowing in her chamber, till Napoleon’s usual
hour of retiring to rest. He had just placed himself in bed, silent
and melancholy, when suddenly the private door opened, and the Empress
appeared, her hair in disorder, and her face swollen with weeping.
Advancing with a tottering step, she stood, as if irresolute, near the
bed, clasped her hands, and burst into an agony of tears. Delicacy
seemed at first to have arrested her progress, but, forgetting
everything in the fulness of her grief, she threw herself on the bed,
clasped her husband’s neck, and sobbed as if her heart would break.
Napoleon also wept while he endeavoured to console her, and they
remained a few minutes locked in each other’s arms, silently mingling
their tears, until the Emperor, perceiving Constant[20] in the room,
dismissed him to the ante-chamber.
‘After an interview of about an hour, Josephine parted, for ever, from
the man whom she so long and so tenderly loved. On seeing the Empress
retire, which she did in tears, the attendant entered to remove the
lights, and found the chamber silent as death, and Napoleon sunk
among the bed-clothes, so as to be invisible. Next morning he still
showed the marks of suffering. At eleven, Josephine was to bid adieu
to the Tuileries, never to enter the palace more. The whole household
assembled on the stairs, in order to obtain a last look of a mistress
whom they loved, and who carried with her into exile the hearts of all
who had enjoyed the happiness of access to her presence. Josephine
was veiled from head to foot, and, entering a close carriage with six
horses, drove rapidly away, without casting one look backward on the
scene of past greatness and departed happiness.’
The only drawback to Memes’s narrative is, that it does not exactly
tally with the ‘Register of the Conservative Senate,’ of Saturday,
December 6, 1809, extracts from which are given in the ‘Times’ of
December 27, 1809. In that document Napoleon makes a speech, a portion
of which is as follows:--
‘The politics of my monarchy, the interest, and the wants, of my
people, which have constantly guided all my actions, require that,
after me, I should leave to children, inheritors of my love for my
people, that throne on which Providence has placed me. Notwithstanding,
for several years past, I have lost the hope of having children by my
well-beloved consort, the Empress Josephine. This it is which induces
me to sacrifice the sweetest affections of my heart; to attend to
nothing but the good of the State, and to wish the dissolution of my
marriage.
‘Arrived at the age of forty years, I may indulge the hope of living
long enough to educate, in my views and sentiments, the children
which it may please Providence to give me: God knows how much such
a resolution has cost my heart; but there is no sacrifice beyond my
courage, that I will not make, when it is proved to me to be necessary
to the welfare of France. I should add, that far from ever having had
reason to complain, I have only had to be satisfied with the attachment
and affection of my well-beloved consort. She has adorned fifteen years
of my life, the remembrance of which will ever remain engraven on my
heart. She was crowned by my hand. I wish she should preserve the rank
and title of Empress; but, above all, that she should never doubt my
sentiments, and that she should ever regard me as her best and dearest
friend.’
English opinion on this act of Napoleon’s may be gathered from the
‘Times’ of December 28, which thus comments upon it:--
‘While the affair of the dissolution of Buonaparte’s marriage was
transacting in the Senate, he retired to Trianon. The repudiated
Josephine withdrew, at the same time, to Malmaison, probably never
to behold him again; or, at most, only for a few minutes, during a
visit of cold ceremony. Whatever errors there might have been in the
early conduct of this woman, were in a great measure redeemed by her
behaviour during her slippery, and precarious, exaltation. She has
often stepped in between the rage of the tyrant to whom she was united,
and the victim he had marked for destruction, and by her tears, and
entreaties, softened him into pity and pardon. Such instances of
feeling, and humanity, had wrought a powerful impression in her favour
among the inhabitants of Paris, amongst whom, her unmerited disgrace
has probably occasioned no less grief than astonishment. The temporary
seclusion to which Buonaparte appears to have condemned himself,
may possibly be for the purpose of preventing any opportunity of an
explosion of public sentiment on this subject. We think, on the whole,
that Josephine has been hardly treated. The reasons assigned for her
repudiation have existed in equal force for many years; and the act
itself might have been carried into effect, with less outrage to her
feelings, at a former period.’
CHAPTER XLVIII.
FAILURE OF EXPEDITIONS TO SPAIN, PORTUGAL, AND HOLLAND--
NAPOLEON’S WOOING OF, AND MARRIAGE WITH, MARIA LOUISA
--BIRTH OF THE KING OF ROME--NAPOLEON IN THE NURSERY.
In closing the record of this year, I cannot omit to mention the fact
of the failures of the expeditions to Spain, Portugal, and Holland. The
latter, or Walcheren expedition, as it was called, was just returning
in a woful plight, fever having thoroughly done its work among the
troops; and, in December, the City of London, through the Lord Mayor,
memorialised the King on the subject of this latter expedition, and
prayed ‘your Majesty will direct enquiry to be forthwith instituted, in
order to ascertain the causes which have occasioned it.’
‘To which Address and Petition his Majesty was graciously pleased to
return the following answer:--
‘“I thank you for your expressions of duty and attachment to me and to
my Family.
‘“The recent Expedition to the Scheldt was directed to several objects
of great importance in the interest of my Allies, and to the security
of my dominions.
‘“I regret that, of these objects, a part only has been accomplished.
I have not judged it necessary to direct any Military Inquiry into the
conduct of my Commanders by sea or land, in this conjoint service.
‘“It will be for my Parliament, in their wisdom, to ask for such
information, or to take such measures upon this subject as they shall
judge most conducive to the public good.”’
This was the Royal, or Ministerial, snubbing to those men who were then
giving of their blood, and treasure, without stint, and without grumble.
The ‘Times’ of December 21, 1809, is very wroth about it, and the
sturdy citizens answered it by having a Common Hall on January 9,
1810, at which it was resolved that instructions be given to the
representatives of the City, to move or support an address to his
Majesty, praying an inquiry into the cause of the failures of the late
expeditions to Spain, Portugal, and Holland; they also voted a similar
address themselves; and asserted a right to deliver their addresses or
petitions to the King upon his throne. But they got no redress.
The year 1810 is mostly noteworthy to the caricaturist by Napoleon’s
second marriage. On February 1, 1810, a grand council was called
together to help the Emperor in selecting another empress. But Napoleon
had not been wasting his time since his divorce from Josephine. He had
sent to the Emperor Alexander, proposing to marry his sister, the Grand
Duchess Anna Paulovna; but the Russian Emperor, although he professed
great friendship for Napoleon, hardly cared about a closer alliance
with him, and the proposal was declined.
The Council, in their wisdom, thought of an Austrian princess, and
a proposal was made to the Austrian ambassador for the hand of the
Arch-Duchess Maria Louisa, the result of which should have been, if
there is any truth in the old rhyme,
Happy’s the wooing
That’s not long a-doing,
the perfection of bliss to the principal parties concerned. It was all
settled in four-and-twenty hours, and Berthier, as Napoleon’s proxy,
married Maria Louisa at Vienna on March 11, and, two days afterwards,
she started on her journey to France.
We are indebted to Madame Junot for an insight into her innocent and
childlike character: ‘At length the day of departure arrived. The
young Empress bade farewell to all the members of her family, and then
retired to her apartment, where etiquette required that she should
wait till Berthier came to conduct her to her carriage. When Berthier
entered the cabinet, he found her bathed in tears. With a voice choked
with sobs, she apologised for appearing so childish: “But,” says she,
“my grief is excusable. See how I am surrounded here by a thousand
things that are dear to me. These are my sister’s drawings; that
tapestry was wrought by my mother; those paintings are by my uncle
Charles.” In this manner she went through the inventory of her cabinet,
and there was scarcely a thing, down to the carpet on the floor, which
was not the work of some beloved hand.
‘There were her singing birds, her parrot, and, above all, the object
which she seemed to value most, and most to regret--a little dog. It
was of course known at the Court of Vienna how greatly the Emperor
used to be annoyed by Josephine’s favourite pet dogs, with _Fortuné_
at their head. Therefore, Francis II., like a prudent father, took
care that his daughter should leave her pet dog at Vienna. Yet it was
a cruel separation, and the princess and her favourite parted with a
tender _duo_ of complaint.’
But the surprises in store for her on her journey soon made her forget
her dog and parrot. She was met at Braunau by Caroline Bonaparte, Queen
of Naples, and sister of the Emperor. At this place, on the frontier of
Austria and Bavaria (the latter of which was then part of the French
empire), a wooden building had been erected for the use of the French
and Austrian suites. Napoleon could play many parts, and he played the
_rôle_ of devoted lover to perfection. At Munich an officer met the new
Empress with a letter from her husband. At Strasburg a page was waiting
for her with another letter, some choice flowers, and some pheasants
shot by the imperial gun; and every morning brought a page with a
letter, which the young bride immediately answered.
Every detail of her progress had been settled with rigid ceremonial,
and at one place (Compiègne) it was appointed that he was to meet her,
when ‘the Empress should prepare to kneel, and the Emperor should raise
her, embrace, and seat her beside him.’ But the imperial bridegroom
was far too impatient for that. Accompanied by the King of Naples
(Murat), he left the palace privately, and pushed on to the village of
Courcelles, where he anxiously awaited her arrival. When the carriage
stopped, he ran towards it, opened the door himself, and jumped in
without any announcement, the bride being only advised of his advent a
moment before by the startled exclamation of the Queen of Spain: ‘It is
the Emperor!’
Two days afterwards they made their state entry into Paris, where
Napoleon, from a balcony at the Tuileries, presented his young bride to
the assembled multitude.
Once more to quote Madame Junot: ‘On returning from the balcony, he
said to her, “Well, Louise, I must give you some little reward for the
happiness you have conferred on me,” and, leading her into one of the
narrow corridors of the palace, lighted only by one lamp, he hurried on
with his beloved Empress, who exclaimed, “Where are we going?”--“Come,
Louise, are you afraid to follow me?” replied the Emperor, who now
pressed to his bosom, with much affectionate tenderness, his young
bride.
‘Suddenly they stopped at a closed door, within which they heard a
dog that was endeavouring to escape from the apparent prison. The
Emperor opened this private door, and desired Louise to enter. She
found herself in a room magnificently lighted; the glare of the lamps
prevented her for some moments from distinguishing any object. Imagine
her surprise when she found her favourite dog from Vienna was there to
greet her; the apartment was furnished with the same chairs, carpet,
the paintings of her sisters, her birds--in short, every object was
there, and placed in the same manner as she had left them on quitting
her paternal roof.
‘The Empress, in joy and gratitude, threw herself in Napoleon’s arms,
and the moment of a great victory would not have been to the conqueror
of the world so sweet as this instant of ecstasy was to the infatuated
heart of the adoring bridegroom. After a few minutes had been spent in
examining the apartment, the Emperor opened a small door; he beckoned
to Berthier, who entered. Napoleon then said, “Louise, it is to him you
are indebted for this unexpected joy: I desire you will embrace him,
as a just recompense.” Berthier took the hand of the Empress; but the
Emperor added, “No, no, you must kiss my old and faithful friend.”’
The civil marriage was celebrated on April 1 at St. Cloud, and the
religious marriage on the 2nd in the Chapel of the Louvre; Napoleon’s
uncle, Cardinal Fesch, officiating.
We have just read the real story of the wooing and home-coming; I will
not spoil it by repeating the caricaturist’s version, quoting only a
few lines:--
Louisa off for Paris set,
And by her anxious swain was met.
To see the lady, what a throng!
The road with flow’rs they strew’d along.
No sooner Nap beheld her charms
Than round the maid he threw his arms,
And gave her a true lover’s kiss,
As prelude to his greater bliss.
* * * * *
Oh what rejoicings and what fêtes!
What hurly-burly in the streets!
The marriage, as it was advised,
Now publicly was solemnized;
The first of April, as they say,
Was chosen for the happy day,
When children, in and out of school,
Are trying to make each a fool.
[Illustration: FIRST INTERVIEW WITH MARIA LOUISA.]
This year is so unproductive of Napoleonic caricatures, that I can only
find one worth mentioning, and this is apropos of the marriage: it is
called ‘Three Weeks after Marriage, or the Great little Emperor playing
at Bo-peep,’ and is by Rowlandson (May 15, 1810). It shows the conjugal
relations of Napoleon and his Empress, as they were supposed to be. She
is in a violent rage, and, having knocked down Talleyrand, she hits him
over the head with a sceptre; he, meanwhile, making moan: ‘Begar she
will give us all de finishing stroke. I shall never rise again.’ She
has plucked off her crown, and is about to throw it at the Emperor, who
dodges behind an armchair, calling out, ‘Oh Tally, Tally, rise and
rally.’ She fiercely declaims, ‘By the head of Jove, I hate him worse
than Famine or Disease. Perish his Family; let inveterate Hate commence
between our Houses from this Moment, and, meeting, never let them
bloodless part.’ Somebody, probably one of the marshals, has got behind
the curtains for safety, calling out, ‘Marblue. Vat a _Crown Cracker_
she be.’
At the time of the marriage the English newspapers were much taken up
with Sir Francis Burdett, and consequently Napoleon’s marriage did not
receive the attention it otherwise might have claimed. In a notice of
the religious ceremony, however, the ‘Times’ breaks out with a little
bit of spite, ‘The Imperial Ruffian, and his spouse, again knelt at the
“_Ite, missa est_.”’
The only other great event during this year, connected with Napoleon,
was the abdication of the crown of Holland by his brother Louis, and
the absorption of his kingdom into the French empire.
The birth of the King of Rome (on March 20, 1811) at last gave Napoleon
the hope of founding a dynasty. He was very anxious about the welfare
of Maria Louisa, hardly bestowing a thought upon his son, until assured
of her safety.
‘As[21] soon as the King of Rome was born, the event was announced by
telegraph to all the principal towns of the empire. At four o’clock
the same afternoon, the marks of rejoicing in the provinces equalled
those in Paris. The Emperor’s couriers, pages, and officers, were
despatched to the different foreign Courts, with intelligence of the
happy event. The Senate of Italy, and the municipal bodies of Rome and
Milan, had immediate notice of it. The different fortresses received
orders to fire salutes; the seaports were enlivened by the display
of colours from the vessels; and everywhere the people voluntarily
illuminated their houses. Those who regard these popular demonstrations
as expressions of the secret sentiments of a people might have remarked
that in all the faubourgs, as well as the lowest and poorest quarters
of Paris, the houses were illuminated to the very uttermost stories.
A fête was got up on the occasion by the watermen of the Seine, which
was prolonged until a late hour of the night. Much of all this was not
ordered: it came spontaneously from the hearts of the people. That same
people, who, for thirty-five years previously, had experienced so many
emotions, had wept over so many reverses, and had rejoiced for so many
victories, still showed, by their enthusiasm on this occasion, that
they retained affections as warm and vivid as in the morning of their
greatness.
‘The King of Rome was baptized on the very day of his birth (March
20, 1811). The ceremony was performed, at nine in the evening, in the
chapel of the Tuileries. The whole of the imperial family attended, and
the Emperor witnessed the ceremony with the deepest emotion. Napoleon
proceeded to the chapel, followed by the members of the household,
those of the Empress, of Madame Mère, the princesses, his sisters, and
of the kings, his brothers. He took his station under a canopy in the
centre of the chapel, having before him a stool to kneel on. A socle
of granite had been placed on a carpet of white velvet embroidered
with gold bees, and on the socle stood a gold vase destined for the
baptismal font. When the Emperor approached the font bearing the King
of Rome in his arms, the most profound silence pervaded. It was a
religious silence, unaccompanied by the parade which might have been
expected on such an occasion. This stillness formed a striking contrast
with the joyous acclamations of the people outside.’
The news was announced to the British public in the ‘Times’ of March
25; and in the ‘Morning Herald’ of March 26 is an amusing
IMPROMPTU
_On the French General_ Victor’s _Defeat before_ Cadiz.
His VICTOR _vanquish’d_, and his Eagle taken,
BONEY will stay at home to save his bacon;
Sip Caudle with his wife, and for young _Nap_,
Make with parental daddle, sugar’d pap;
Content to see the Nurs’ry colours fly,
By holding out his bantling’s clouts to dry.
Rowlandson caricatures the birth of the King of Rome (April 9, 1811)
in ‘Boney the Second, or the little Babboon created to devour French
Monkies.’ The young Napoleon, naked, with the exception of a cocked
hat, but with the cloven hoofs, and tail, of a devil, is being
presented on a cushion to his father by a very buxom nurse. The cushion
rests on a cradle, on which is inscribed ‘Devil’s Darling.’ Napoleon
is looking after the nursery arrangements, and is cooking a caudle of
‘French blood,’ which is to be drunk out of a ‘Bitter Cup.’ He turns
his face towards his little son, and exclaims: ‘Rejoice O ye Frenchmen,
the Fruits of my Labour has produced a little image of myself. I shall,
for the love I owe to your country, instill in my Noble Offspring the
same principles of Lying, Thieving, Treachery, Letchery, Murder, and
all other foul deeds for which I am now worshipped and adored.’ The
Pope is on his knees pronouncing a benediction, which, however, is of
rather doubtful character.
The Owl shrieked at thy Birth, an evil Sight,[22]
The Night Crow cry’d foreboding luckless time,
Dogs howl’d, and hideous Tempests shook down Trees,
The Raven rook’d her on the Chimney Top,
And Chattering Pies in dismal discord sung.
Napoleon was very fond of his little boy, and the caricaturist
represents him in the nursery, thus--
[Illustration]
But in his babe he found relief,
This was a cure for all his grief,
For his delightful dulcet squall
Wou’d not allow a tear to fall.
What wondrous splendor was devised
When the dear Infant was baptized;
For Emperors, Kings, Queens, and Dukes
Assembled with their smiling looks,
Bestowing their congratulations,
And making curious observations.
With curiosity they eyed
The King of Rome--the father’s pride,
And some old gossips cried ‘Oh la!
How he resembles his papa.’
Madame Junot gives some interesting details of Napoleon as a
father:--‘On my return to France, I found the Emperor much altered
in appearance. His features had acquired a paternal character. What
a beautiful child was the young King of Rome! How lovely he appeared
as he rode through the gardens of the Tuileries in his shell-shaped
_calèche_, drawn by two young deer, which had been trained by Franconi,
and which were given him by his aunt, the Queen of Naples. He resembled
one of those figures of Cupid which have been discovered in the ruins
of Herculaneum. One day I had been visiting the young King, the Emperor
was also there, and he was playing with the child--as he always played
with those he loved--that is to say, he was tormenting him. The Emperor
had been riding, and held in his hand a whip, which attracted the
child’s notice. He stretched out his little hand, and when he seized
the whip, burst into a fit of laughter, at the same time embracing
his father. “Is he not a fine boy, Madame Junot?” said the Emperor;
“you must confess that he is.” I could say so without flattery, for
he certainly was a lovely boy. “You were not at Paris,” continued the
Emperor, “when my son was born. It was on that day I learned how much
the Parisians love me.... What did the army say on the birth of the
child?” I told him the soldiers were enthusiastic during many days; he
had already heard so, but was happy to receive a confirmation of their
joy. He then pinched his son’s cheek and his nose; the child cried.
“Come, come, sir,” said the Emperor, “do you suppose you are never to
be thwarted, and do kings cry?”... He used to take the King of Rome
in his arms, and toss him up in the air. The child would then laugh,
until the tears stood in his eyes. Sometimes the Emperor would take him
before a looking-glass, and work his face into all sorts of grimaces;
and, if the child was frightened and shed tears, Napoleon would say:
“What, Sire, do you cry? A King, and cry? Shame, Shame!”
‘The hours at which the young King was taken to the Emperor were not
precisely fixed, nor could they be, but his visits were most frequently
at the time of _déjeûner_. On these occasions the Emperor would give
the child a little claret, by dipping his finger in the glass, and
making him suck it. Sometimes he would daub the young Prince’s face
with gravy. The child would laugh heartily at seeing his father as much
a child as he was himself, and only loved him the more for it. Children
invariably love those who play with them. I recollect that once when
Napoleon had daubed the young King’s face, the child was highly amused,
and asked the Emperor to do the same to _Maman Quiou_, for so he called
his governess, Madame de Montesquiou.’
Rowlandson’s idea of the royal infant is given in a caricature
(published April 14, 1811) called, ‘Nursing the Spawn of a Tyrant,
or Frenchmen Sick of the Brood.’[23] Maria Louisa is aghast at her
offspring, who, screaming, threatens her with a dagger. She thus pours
out her woes: ‘There’s no condition sure, so curst as mine! Day and
night to dandle such a dragon--the little angry cur snarls while it
feeds; see how the blood is settled in its scarecrow face; what brutal
mischief sits upon his brow. Rage and vengeance sparkle in his cheeks;
the very spawn and spit of its tyrant father. Nay, now I look again, he
is the very picture of his grandfather, _the Devil_!’ This must have
been pleasant for Napoleon to hear, which he evidently does, as he is
but partially concealed behind a curtain.
Some one (name unknown, August 20, 1811) has given us, ‘The Deputeys
apointed by the Legislative Body, doing Homage to the King of Rome in
the Nursery at St. Cloud.’ His _gouvernante_, Madame de Montesquiou,
presents him to the Deputies, who kneel and kiss him, saying: ‘Madam
Governess--not one of us can behold without a most lively interest,
that August Infant--on whom rest so many Destinies, and whose Age and
Charming Qualities inspire the most tender sentiments in the French
and surrounding Nations.’ The lady replies: ‘Monsieurs--I thank you
for the polite and flattering encomiums you are pleased to bestow on
me--I thank you in the name of the young prince, whose Charms are
inexpressible, and regret that he cannot add his personal sentiments to
those which I entertain, to the Legislative Body.’ In another portion
of the picture the foul linen of the precious child is being washed and
hung to dry.
[Illustration: NURSING THE SPAWN OF A TYRANT, OR FRENCHMEN SICK OF THE
BROOD.]
CHAPTER XLIX.
A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT--NAPOLEON’S TOUR IN GERMANY--DECLARATION OF
WAR WITH RUSSIA--ENTRY INTO WILNA--SMOLENSKO--BORODINO--ENTRY
INTO MOSCOW--BURNING OF THE CITY--NAPOLEON’S RETREAT.
The next caricature requires some little explanation. We find in the
‘Courier’ of September 20, 1811, the following paragraph:--‘Dover,
September 19. Early this morning we heard a heavy firing on the
opposite shore; it continued at times all the morning, and was very hot
about one o’clock; the wind is to the southward, and eastward, which
makes us hear very plain; no news has arrived as to the cause; by some
it is conjectured that Buonaparte is at Boulogne, and by others, that
the flotilla is out, and some of our cruisers firing at them. It still
continues, though not so heavy as in the early part of the day.’
Details did not arrive till the 22nd, and then the ‘Courier’ published
an account of the naval engagement off Boulogne, on which the
caricature is evidently grounded: ‘The cause of the incessant firing on
the French Coast, is now ascertained to be an engagement between the
_Naiad_, 3 sloops, and a cutter, and 7 large French praams, each as
large as a frigate, 11 gun brigs, and other small craft, 27 in all. The
following letter gives an account of the engagement:--We took the Port
Admiral in his praam, but afterwards ran off--However we took another,
and brought her away--Buonaparte saw the engagement--he was in a boat
with Marshall Ney.’
All accounts, though they do not agree in the number of French vessels
engaged, are singularly unanimous as to the presence of Napoleon and
Ney.
‘The first glorious exploit of the Invincible Flotilla. Devils among
the Flats, or Boney getting into Hot Water’ (unknown artist, September
20, 1811), represents one of the Flotilla returning much damaged, and
full of corpses, only the captain and a steersman alive on board.
Napoleon, who is in another boat, is in a fearful rage, tries to get at
him, and is restrained by one of his marshals (Ney)--who remarks, ‘Ma
foi, take care, your Majesty will be in hot water up to the chin’--from
throwing himself into the boiling water. ‘You scoundrel,’ says he, ‘how
dare you run away when you were 27 to 5. I’ll order the guns of the
batteries to sink every one of you.’ But the captain excuses himself,
‘Eh bien, mais, mon Empereur, you tell us de Jack Anglais be men, mais,
by Gar, we find dem Devils.’ To which a man in Napoleon’s boat replies,
‘Very true Monsieur Ney, de devils Jack Bulls make hot water all over
de Vorld.’ The spirit of Nelson appears, like a comet in the sky,
darting lightning at the Flotilla.
The year 1812 was not fruitful in caricature of Napoleon. In May,
accompanied by Maria Louisa, he visited the eastern part of France, met
the King and Queen of Saxony at Freyburg, and entered Dresden in state.
There he met the Emperor and Empress of Austria, the King of Prussia,
and the Kings of Saxony, Naples, Würtemberg, Westphalia, and Bavaria,
besides a heap of smaller potentates. The Emperor of Russia was not
present; he had concluded an alliance with Sweden against France,
an alliance which was afterwards, during this year, joined by Great
Britain. In June, Napoleon visited Dantzig, and left it on the 11th. As
a final measure, Count Lauriston was sent to Alexander, to see if the
difference could be patched up, but the breach was made inevitable by
the refusal of that monarch, or his ministers, to see him.
This decided Napoleon, and, from his head-quarters at Wilkowisky, he
issued the following proclamation: ‘Soldiers! the second war of Poland
has commenced. The first was terminated at Friedland and Tilsit. At
Tilsit, Russia swore eternal alliance with France, and war against
England. She has openly violated her oath; and refuses to render any
explanation of her strange conduct, till the French eagles shall
have repassed the Rhine, and, consequently, left their Allies at her
discretion. Russia is impelled onward by fatality. Her destiny is about
to be accomplished. Does she believe that we have degenerated? that we
are no longer the soldiers of Austerlitz? She has placed us between
dishonour and war: the choice cannot for a moment be doubtful. Let us
march forward then, and, crossing the Niemen, carry the war into her
territories! The second war of Poland will be to the French arms as
glorious as the first; but our next peace must carry with it its own
guarantee, and put an end to that arrogant influence which, for the
last fifty years, Russia has exercised over the affairs of Europe.’
In No. 1 of a series of caricatures on the Russian campaign, published
in April 1813, and seemingly by G. Cruikshank, is represented,
‘The Parting of Hector-Nap, and Andromache, or Russia threatened.’
Napoleon’s horse is waiting for him, the windows are crowded with
ladies to see the departure. Napoleon is ecstatic at the sight of
his little son, who is held aloft by Maria Louisa. The young King of
Rome flourishes a sword, and says, ‘I will kill the people, as my
Papa does.’ His mother wishes him to ‘Kiss him, then, my dear! and he
will bring you some of the naughty Russians to kill.’ Napoleon bids
‘Farewell! I go, I’ll see, I’ll conquer. On my return I’ll greet our
Son with a new Title.
That’s right, my boy, cause war to rage
And rise the Tyrant of a future age.’
Napoleon started on this disastrous campaign, which was the prelude to
his downfall, with an army of about four hundred and twenty thousand
men, most of them doomed to perish in the snows of Russia. The river
Niemen was crossed, and, on June 28, Napoleon made his public entry
into Wilna, which had not long since, and very hurriedly, been
evacuated by the Emperor Alexander.
But even the commencement of this campaign was marked by disaster.
Napoleon had arranged all the details; but the incompetence, or worse,
of his subordinates failed to carry them out. After the Niemen had
been crossed, not a third of the provisions necessary for the army
had arrived, and at Wilna it was found that some hundreds of men had
perished from want and fatigue. The mortality was worse among the
horses, having lost about ten thousand. Before a battle was fought,
and scarcely a month from the commencement of the campaign, there were
twenty-five thousand sick men in the hospitals at Wilna.
Napoleon waited a fortnight at Wilna; but the Russians were driven back
from Ostrovno, by Murat, and more time was consumed at Witepsk. Then
came the attack on Smolensko, on August 16 and 17, when the French lost
15,000, and the Russians 10,000 men, and the Russians still kept the
city. But next day, when the French again advanced against it, they
found it deserted. For this the Russian general, Barclay de Tolly, was
deprived of his command, forasmuch as he had given up a holy city to
the enemy without fighting a pitched battle for its preservation.
But, to proceed somewhat chronologically, we must remember that, on
July 22, Wellington gained a great victory at Salamanca, where the
French lost eleven pieces of cannon, two eagles, and six colours, one
general, 136 other officers, and 7,000 prisoners. The general public
did not know this news till the 4th of August, and the illuminations in
its honour did not take place till the 17th, 18th, and 19th of August.
It is to this event, doubtless, that the following refers.
In September 1812 was published a caricature of ‘British Welcome or a
Visit from the Bantam to the Lion.
Though Bantam Boney claps his wings,
Yet this we may rely on:
He’ll turn his tail and run away
Whene’er he meets the Lion.’
And that is precisely as he is represented in the caricature. The
pursuing lion says, ‘So, my little Bantam, you are come to pay me a
visit--Well lets have a shake of your claw.’ But the bantam, with a
very terrified expression of countenance, declines: ‘Excusé moi, Mons^r
le Lion, you gripe too hard.’
The battle of Borodino (or, as the French call it, Moskowa) was fought
on September 7, and was, probably, the bloodiest of all Napoleon’s
battles, but it laid Moscow open to the conqueror.
But soon the cloudless sun was gone,
And a thick fog arose thereon--
Nap prais’d the fog--indeed he did,
Because his movements would be hid--
And to the army, in array,
This was the order of the day--
‘Brave soldiers! fight for endless glory,
The wish’d-for field now lies before ye,
You’ll with abundance be supplied,
Good winter quarters, too, beside--
A quick return home--that is more;
Then fight, my lads, as hereto
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