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Title: English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon I.  Volume I (of 2)
Author: Ashton, John
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

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  VOL. I.


    nearly 400 Illustrations, engraved in facsimile of the
    originals. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7_s._ 6_d._

    With nearly 100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7_s._

    100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7_s._ 6_d._

London: CHATTO & WINDUS, Piccadilly.

[Illustration: THE EXILE.








  _All rights reserved_



This book is not intended to be a History of Napoleon the First, but
simply to reproduce the bulk of the Caricatures and Satires published
in England on our great enemy, with as much of history as may help to
elucidate them.

The majority of the caricatures are humorous; others are silly, or
spiteful--as will occasionally happen nowadays; and some are too coarse
for reproduction--so that a careful selection has had to be made.
Gillray and Rowlandson generally signed their names to the work of
their hands; but, wherever a caricature occurs unsigned by the artist,
I have attributed it, on the authority of the late Edward Hawkins,
Esq., some time Keeper of the Prints at the British Museum, to whatever
artist he has assigned it. I have personally inspected every engraving
herein described, and the description is entirely my own.

Should there, by chance, be an occasional discrepancy as to a date, it
has been occasioned by the inconceivable contradictions which occur
in different histories and newspapers. To cite an instance: in three
different books are given three different dates of Napoleon leaving
Elba, and it was only by the knowledge that it occurred on a Sunday,
and by consulting an almanac for the year 1815, that I was able
absolutely to determine it.

The frontispiece is taken from a very rare print, and gives a
novel view of Napoleon to us, who are always accustomed to see him
represented in military uniform.

That my readers may find some instruction, mingled with the amusement I
have provided for them, is the earnest wish of

            JOHN ASHTON.




    EXTRACTION--ENGLISH BIOGRAPHIES                                    1


    HIS BIRTH                                                          7




    REPORTED VISIT TO LONDON--SIEGE OF TOULON                         22




    DISPOSITION                                                       36


    STATE OF ENGLAND                                                  43




    PROCLAMATIONS                                                     54


    THE NILE--TARDY NEWS THEREOF                                      64




    AND CONSOLS IN 1798                                               77


    ON THEM                                                           82


    ACCOUNT--NAPOLEON’S OWN VERSION                                   88


    --FAILURE OF THE SIEGE, AND RETREAT TO JAFFA                      95






    NAPOLEON, SIÈYES, AND DUCOS NAMED CONSULS                        117




    --LAVISH EXPENDITURE OF NAPOLEON’S GENERALS                      129


    NAPOLEON’S PORTRAIT                                              136


    GENERAL REJOICINGS                                               141


    NAPOLEON                                                         150


    WHITWORTH                                                        160


    PELTIER                                                          168




  PATRIOTIC HANDBILLS                                                183




  PATRIOTIC HANDBILLS, ETC.                                          199






    NAPOLEON’S EPITAPH                                               222


    ROUSEM’S EPISTLE’--NAPOLEON’S TOUR TO BELGIUM                    232


    MENAGERIE                                                        244


  INVASION SQUIBS AND CARICATURES, _continued_                       254


    INVADE ENGLAND                                                   266


  INVASION SQUIBS--VOLUNTEERS                                        279

  THE EXILE                                               _Frontispiece_







Curiously enough, it has never been practically settled whence the
ancestors of Napoleon Bonaparte came. He, himself, cared little for the
pride of birth, and when, during his Consulate, they manufactured for
him a genealogy descending from a line of kings, he laughed at it, and
said that his patent of nobility dated from the battle of Montenotte.

But, still, one would think he ought to know, for family tradition
is strong; and if it can be trusted, this is his own account. ‘One
day Napoleon questioned Canova about Alfieri, and Canova found an
opportunity to render an important service to Florence, &c. “Sire,”
said he, “authorise the President of the Academy of Florence to take
care of the frescoes and pictures. I heartily wish it. That will
reflect great honour on your Majesty, who, I am assured, is of a noble
Florentine family.” At these words the Empress (Maria Louisa) turned
towards her husband and said:--“What! are you not Corsican?” “Yes,”
replied Napoleon, “but of Florentine origin.” Canova then said:--“The
President of the Academy of Florence, the Senator Allessandria, is of
one of the most illustrious houses in the country, which has had one of
its ladies married to a Bonaparte, thus you are Italian, and we boast
of it.” “I am, certainly,” added Napoleon.’[1]

Prince Napoleon Louis Bonaparte (brother to the Emperor) published in
1830, at Florence, a French translation of an old book[2] about the
sack of Rome, 1527, which gives an account of the family of the writer.
But Majorca also puts in a claim to the older Bonapartes; and in 1852,
Don Antonio Furio, a learned man, Member of the Royal Academies of
Belles Lettres of Barcelona and Majorca, &c., made a declaration as to
‘the rank, dignity, and extinction of the noble family of Bonapart in
the island of Majorca;’ and quotes from a book kept in the archives of
Palma, in which are preserved the armorial escutcheons of the noble
families of the Island, the arms of Bonapart--which were Dexter,
on a field Azure, six stars, Or, placed two by two, Sinister, on a
field gules, a lion rampant, Or; and the Chief Or, bears a scared
eagle, sable. He says the family came from Genoa to Majorca, in which
island its members were considered noblemen, and they filled several
distinguished offices. In a register of burials relating to knights and
gentlemen, written in 1559, the antiquity and nobility of the Bonaparts
are clearly authenticated; and it would seem from Don Furio’s account
(for all of which he gives chapter and verse) that the learned
jurisconsult Don Hugo Bonapart left Majorca and went to Corsica, where,
in 1411, he was made Regent of the Chancery of that place; and, as he
settled there, his name was inscribed in the Golden Book of France.

This seems pretty circumstantial, until another theory appears--namely,
his Greek extraction. Sir J. Emerson Tennent says:[3] ‘There is a story
relative to the family name of the Bonapartes, that somewhat excites
curiosity as to the amount of truth which it may contain. In 1798, when
Napoleon was secretly preparing for his descent upon Egypt, among other
expedients for distracting and weakening the Porte, French emissaries
were clandestinely employed in exciting the Greeks in Epirus, and the
Morea, to revolt. In Maina especially (the ancient Sparta), these
agents were received with marked enthusiasm, on the ground that
Bonaparte was born in Corsica, where numbers of Greeks from that part
of the Morea had found an asylum after the conquest of Candia, in 1669,
but they were eventually expelled by the Genoese.

‘One of the persons so employed by Napoleon to rouse the Greeks in 1798
was named Stephanopoli; and one of the arguments which he used was,
that Napoleon himself was a Greek in blood, and a Mainote by birth,
being descended from one of the exiles who took refuge at Ajaccio in
1673. The name of this family, he said, was Calomeri, Καλόμερις,[4]
which the Corsicans accommodated to their own dialect by translating it
into _Buonaparte_.’

Another writer, signing himself _Rhodocanakis_, in the same
periodical,[5] says: ‘I am happy to be able to assert with
confidence, and on the authority of General Kallergis, the intimate
friend of the present Emperor, of Prince Pitzipios, and others, that
the story devised by Nicholas Stepanapoulos, and mentioned by his
niece, the Duchesse d’Abrantes, in her _Memoirs_, that Napoleon was
a Greek in blood, and a Mainote by birth, being descended from the
family of Calomeri, who took refuge at Ajaccio, Corsica, was never
authoritatively denied. On the contrary, both the first and third
Napoleon appeared pleased at the story, whenever it was alluded to
in their presence; probably because they thought it good policy not
to deny what they might in future wish to turn to their advantage.
As regards the name of Καλομέρης or Καλόμερος, there are still many
families of that name in Greece.’

Now let us hear what Madame Junot, the aforesaid Duchesse d’Abrantes,
the intimate friend of Napoleon, whose families were the closest of
neighbours at Ajaccio, says on this subject.[6] ‘When Constantine
Comnenus landed at Corsica in 1676, at the head of a Greek colony,
he had with him several sons, one of whom was named Calomeros. This
son he sent to Florence, on a mission to the Grand Duke of Tuscany.
Constantine dying before the return of his son, the Grand Duke
prevailed on the young Greek to renounce Corsica, and fix his abode
in Tuscany. After some interval of time, an individual came from
Italy--indeed from Tuscany--and fixed his abode in Corsica, where his
descendants formed the family of Buonaparte; for the name _Calomeros_,
literally Italianised, signified _buona parte_ or _bella parte_.[7]

‘The only question is, whether the Calomeros who left Corsica, and
the Calomeros who came there, have a direct filiation. Two facts,
however, are certain--namely, the departure of the one, and the
arrival of the other. It is a singular thing that the Comneni,[8] in
speaking of the Bonaparte family, always designate them by the names
_Calomeros_, _Calomeri_, or _Calomeriani_, according as they allude to
one individual, or several collectively. Both families were united by
the most intimate friendship.

‘When the Greeks were obliged to abandon Paomia to escape the
persecutions of the insurgent Corsicans, they established themselves
temporarily in towns which remained faithful to the Republic of Genoa.
When, at a subsequent period, Cargesa was granted to the Greeks for the
purpose of forming a new establishment, a few Greek families continued
to reside at Ajaccio.’

I have been thus diffuse on his ancestry, because English satirists
could not tell the truth on the subject--they were too swayed by the
passion of the moment, and had to pander to the cravings of the mob.
Take an example, from a broad sheet published in 1803, when our island
was in deadly fear of invasion, a ‘History of Buonaparte.’ ‘Napoleon
Buonaparte is the son of a poor lawyer of Ajaccio, in Corsica, in which
city he was born on the 15th of August, 1769. His grandfather, Joseph,
originally a butcher of the same place, was ennobled by Count Nieuhoff,
some time King of Corsica. He was the son of Carlos Buona, who once
kept a liquor shop, or tavern, but who, being convicted of robbery
and murder, was condemned to the Gallies, where he died in 1724. His
wife, La Birba, the mother of Joseph, died in the House of Correction
at Geneva (? Genoa). On the 3rd May, 1736, when Porto Vecchio was
attacked, Joseph Buona brought to the assistance of King Theodore a
band of vagabonds which, during the civil war, had chosen him for
its leader. In return, Theodore, on the following day, created him a
noble, and added to his name _Buona_ the termination _Parté_. Joseph
Buonaparte’s wife _Histria_, was the daughter of a journeyman tanner of
Bastia, also in Corsica.’

And yet one more, from another equally veracious ‘life.’ ‘Buonaparte’s
great-grandfather kept a wine-house for factors (like our gin shops),
and, being convicted of murder and robbery, he died a galley slave
at Genoa, in 1724: his wife was likewise an accomplice, and she died
in the House of Correction at Genoa in 1734. His grandfather was a
butcher of Ajaccio, and his grandmother daughter of a journeyman tanner
at Bastia. His father was a low petty-fogging lawyer, who served and
betrayed his country by turns, during the Civil Wars. After France
conquered Corsica, he was a spy to the French Government, and his
mother their trull. What is bred in the bone will not come out of the



The foregoing was the sort of stuff given to our grandfathers for
history; nothing could be bad enough for Boney, _the Corsican
Ogre_--nay, they even tortured his name to suit political purposes. It
was hinted that the keeper of ‘the Man with the Iron Mask,’ who was
said to be no other than the twin (and elder) brother of Louis XIV.,
was named _Bon part_; that the said keeper had a daughter, with whom
the Man in the Mask fell in love, and to whom he was privately married;
that their children received their mother’s name, and were secretly
conveyed to Corsica, where the name was converted into _Bonaparte_,
or _Buonaparte_; and that one of these children was the ancestor of
Napoleon Bonaparte, who was thus entitled to be recognised, not only as
of French origin, but as the direct descendant of the rightful heir to
the throne of France.

They put his name into Greek, and tortured it thus:--

    Napoleon, Apoleon, Poleon, Oleon, Leon, Eon, On,

    Ναπολεων, Απολεων, Πολεων, Ολεων, Λεων, Εων, Ων,

which sentence will translate, ‘Napoleon, being the lion of the
nations, went about destroying cities.’

In the ‘Journal des Débats,’ 8 Avril, 1814, although not an English
satire on his name, it is gravely stated that he was baptised by
the name of Nicholas, and that he assumed the name of Napoleon as an
uncommon one; but this name, Nicholas, which was applied to him so
freely in France, was but a cant term for a stupid blockhead. Whilst
on this subject, however, I cannot refrain from quoting a passage from
a French book: ‘I do not know what fellow has held that _Napolione_
was a demon, who in bygone times, amused himself by tormenting a poor
imbecile. The fellow can not have read the life of the Saints: he would
then have learned that St. Napolione, whose name is given at length
in the legend, is as good a patron as any other; that he performed
seven miracles during his life, and twenty-two and a half after his
death--for he had not time to finish the twenty-third; it was an
unfortunate tiler who, in falling from a roof, broke both his legs. St.
Napoleon had already set one, when an unlucky doctor prescribed some
medicine to the sick man which carried him off to the other world.’[9]

There is an extremely forcible acrostic in Latin on his name, which
deserves reproduction:--

  N ationibus[10]
  A uctoritatem
  P rincipibus
  O bedientiam
  L ibertatem
  E cclesiæ
  O mni modo
  N egans

  B ona
  U surpavit
  O mnium
  N eutrorum
  A urum
  P opulorum
  A nimas
  R evera
  T yrannus
  E xecrandus.

But not only was his name thus made a vehicle for political purposes,
but the expounders of prophecy got hold of it, and found out, to their
great delight, that at last they had got that theological bugbear,
_the Apocalyptic beast_. Nothing could be clearer. It could be proved
to demonstration, most simply and clearly. Every one had been in error
about the Church of Rome; at last there could be no doubt about it, it
was NAPOLEON. Take the following handbill as a sample of one out of

  (_From the 13th Chapter of Revelations_)

_Verse 1st._

    ‘And a Beast rose out of the Sea, having ten crowns on his
    head,’ &c.

This Beast is supposed to mean Buonaparte, he being born in _Corsica_,
which is an island, and having conquered ten kingdoms.

_Verse 5th._

    ‘And a mouth was given him speaking blasphemies; and power
    given him upon the earth, forty and two months.’

Buonaparte was crowned in December, 1804; it is therefore supposed the
_extent_ of his assumed power upon earth will now be limited, this
present month (_June_) 1808, being exactly the forty-second month of
his reign.

_Verse 16th._

    ‘And he caused all to receive a mark in their hands, and no one
    could buy or sell, save those that had the mark of the Beast.’

To persons conversant in commercial affairs, these verses need no
comment. There are, at present, some of _these marks_ to be seen in
this country; they had the Crown of Italy, &c., at top, and are signed
‘Buonaparte,’ ‘Talleyrand’; and all of them are numbered.

_Verse 18th._

    ‘Let him that hath understanding, count the number of the
    Beast, for it is the number of a man, and his number is SIX

This verse is curious, and should be read attentively. The method of
using letters for figures at the time the Revelations were written is
proved by many monuments of Roman antiquity now extant.

  | The Ancient Alphabet | Buonaparte’s name with | Ten Kingdoms |
  |    of Figures        |       the Figures      |  conquered   |
  | A                  1 | N                   40 |   France     |
  | B                  2 | A                    1 |   Prussia    |
  | C                  3 | P                   60 |   Austria    |
  | D                  4 | O                   50 |   Sardinia   |
  | E                  5 | L                   20 |   Naples     |
  | F                  6 | E                   5  |   Rome       |
  | G                  7 | A                   1  |   Tuscany    |
  | H                  8 | N                  40  |   Hungary    |
  | I                  9 |                        |   Portugal   |
  | K                 10 | B                   2  |   Spain      |
  | L                 20 | U                 110  |              |
  | M                 30 | O                  50  |              |
  | N                 40 | N                  40  |              |
  | O                 50 | A                   1  |              |
  | P                 60 | P                  60  |              |
  | Q                 70 | A                   1  |              |
  | R                 80 | R                  80  |              |
  | S                 90 | T                 100  |              |
  | T                100 | E                   5  |              |
  | U                110 |                   ---  |              |
  | V                120 | The Number        666  |              |
  | X                130 |   of the Beast         |              |
  | Y                140 |                        |              |
  | Z                150 |                        |              |
  |      Napole                   an Buon               aparte   |
  |        6                         6                    6      |

    The above verses are not the only parts of the chapter which
    have reference to Buonaparte, but the _most prominent ones_;
    the connection throughout has been clearly ascertained.

In a curious little book called _The Corsican’s Downfall_, by a Royal
Arch Mason, published at Mansfield in 1814, at p. 6, it says, with
reference to the numeration, ‘The oldest treatise on the theory of
arithmetic is comprised in the seventh, eighth, and ninth books of
Euclid’s _Elements_, about two hundred and eighty years before the
Christian era. The first author of any consequence who used the modern
way of computing by figures, instead of letters of the alphabet, was
Jordanus of Namur, who flourished about 1200; and his arithmetic was
afterwards published and demonstrated by Johannis Faber Stapulensis, in
the fifteenth century. The name, then, and number of the Beast must be
discovered (if at all) by the ancient method of computation in use at
the time when the prophecies were written.’

But Bonaparte ungratefully refused to fulfil prophecy by being
destroyed at the end of forty-two months, _i.e._ in June 1808, which
must have put the expositors on their mettle. They were, however,
fully equal to the occasion, and ingeniously solved the quotation this
way.[11] ‘Power was given unto him to continue forty-and-two months:
now it is well known that he was self created, or crowned Emperor of
France, on the 2nd day of December 1804, and that he reigned in full
power and authority over the prostrate States upon the Continent until
the 2nd day of May 1808, the very day on which the gallant Patriots of
Spain made so noble and glorious a struggle to throw off the abominable
yoke that he had imposed upon them, which is exactly a period of three
years and a half, or forty two months.’

An ingenious lunatic, named L. Mayer, found out another way of
fathering the Mark of the Beast upon Napoleon. He took the number of
sovereigns who had reigned in Europe until Napoleon’s arrival--some he
has left out to suit his convenience, but that is a trivial matter--the
case had to be made out against the unfortunate Emperor.

_Sovereigns included in the Number of the Beast._[12]

  Roman Emperors                               77
  Popes                                       186
  Kings of France                              40
  Kings of Spain                               78
  Kings of Portugal                            26
  Emperors of Germany                          57
  Kings of Bohemia                             31
  Kings of Hungary                             34
  Kings of Poland                              35
  Kings of Denmark                             35
  Kings of Naples and Sicily                   30
  Kings of Sardinia                            36
  Bonaparte                                     1
                                      Total   666

The Society of Antiquaries have, among their handbills, one published
in 1808, as follows:--

    Mr. Urban,--The following singular coincidences may furnish
    matter for reflection to the curious. It has been generally
    admitted that the Roman Empire, after passing under _seven_
    different forms of government (or _seven_ heads), was divided
    into _ten_ kingdoms in Europe (the ten horns of Daniel and
    John); and that, notwithstanding the various changes Europe
    has undergone, the number of kingdoms was generally about ten.

    It is not a little surprising that the _Heads of the Family of
    Napoleon_, who has effected such a change in the same Empire,
    _are exactly seven_, viz.:--

  1. Napoleon.
  2. Joseph, King of Italy.
  3. Louis, King of Holland.
  4. Jerome.
  5. Murat, Duke of Berg and Cleves.
  6. Cardinal Fesch.
  7. Beauharnais, the adopted son of Napoleon.

    And also that _the Members of the New Federation are just ten_,

   1. Bavaria.
   2. Wirtemberg.
   3. Baden.
   4. Darmstadt.
   5. Nassau.
   6. Ysembourg.
   7. Hohenzollern.
   8. Aremberg.
   9. Salm.
  10. Leyen.

    It is also remarkable that in the _man’s name_, NAPOLEON
    BUONAPARTE, there are precisely three times six letters:--

  Napole       on Buon          aparte
    6             6               6    = 666

    And in his name is contained the name given by John to the King
    of the Locusts, who is called ‘Apoleon,’ or ‘the Destroyer.’

Even the date of his birth was disputed, for some said he was born
on February 5, 1768--in his marriage registry it is the same, and he
used to tell De Bourrienne, his school-fellow, that he was born on
August 15, 1769, and it is so noted in the registry of his entrance
into the military school at Brienne in 1779, and the Ecole Militaire
in 1784, besides being the date used in all documents necessary to his
promotion. But probably his mother knew somewhat about it, and Madame
Junot says,[13] speaking of Madame Lætitia Bonaparte, ‘I recollect she
this day told us that, being at Mass on the day of the fête of Notre
Dame of August, she was overtaken by the pains of childbirth, and she
had hardly reached home when she was delivered of _Napoleon_, on a
wretched rug.... I know not why,’ said she, ‘it has been reported that
Paoli was Napoleon’s godfather. It is not true; Laurent Jiubéga[14] was
his godfather. He held him over the baptismal font, along with another
of our relations, Celtruda Buonaparte.’[15]



In after life, when Napoleon was successful, and had made a position,
reports were spread that his real father was Count Marbœuf, who had
been in Corsica, and in after life, or at all events at his entrance
into it, acted as his benefactor and patron. Lætitia Ramolini,
afterwards Madame Lætitia Bonaparte, was very graceful and pretty,
indeed Madame Junot says of her,[16] ‘Lætitia was indeed a lovely
woman. Those who knew her in advanced life thought her countenance
somewhat harsh; but that expression instead of being caused by any
austerity of disposition, seemed, on the contrary, to have been
produced by timidity.’ Indeed, no one can look at any portrait of
Madame Mère, and not be struck with her lofty beauty.

This scandal about Count Marbœuf, it must be remembered, is of French
origin, and was well known, and recognised, probably, at its value. To
give one illustration,[17] ‘La malignité a fait honneur de sa naissance
au Comte de Marbœuf, governeur de l’isle, qui rendait des soins assidus
à Madame Buonaparte, jeune femme, belle et interressante alors.’

All our English squibs repeat the tale, and the subjoined is certainly
the cleverest of them.[18]

  About his parentage indeed,
  Biographers have disagreed;
  Some say his father was a farmer,
  His mother, too, a _Cyprian_ charmer:
  That his dad Carlo was quite poor,
  Letitia a French General’s ----;
  If, faithless to her marriage vows,
  She made a cuckold of her spouse,
  Then Nap (some characters are rotten)
  Has been a _merrily begotten_.
  But other writers, with civility,
  Insist he’s sprung from _old Nobility_,
  And therefore to his father’s name
  Attach the highest rank and fame:
  Nay, furthermore, they add as true,
  Nap was Paoli’s godson too.
  But what to this said great Paoli?
  ‘I stood for one, but ’pon my soul, I
  At present do not rightly know
  Whether it was for Nap or Joe.’
  It was for Joe, if he’d have said it,
  But Joe has done him little credit.
  Now let the honest muse despise
  All adulation, barefaced lies,
  And own the truth--Then Boney’s father
  Was member of the law, or rather,
  A pettifogger, which his friends,
  To serve their own politic ends,
  Would keep a secret, knowing well
  That pettifoggers go to Hell.
  When France occasioned some alarms,
  And Corsica was up in arms,
  This Carlo Bonaparte thought fit,
  His parchments for the sword to quit.
  He fought, they say, with some applause,
  Tho’ unsuccessful in the cause:
  Meanwhile, with battle’s din and fright,
  His wife was in a dismal plight;
  From town to town Letitia fled,
  To shun the French, _as it is said_;
  Tho’ others whisper that the fair
  Was under a French Gen’ral’s care,
  And that to keep secure her charms
  She fondly trusted to his _arms_.
  Be this however as it might,
  After incessant fear and flight,
  Letitia (’fore her time, mayhap)
  Was brought to bed of Master Nap:
  The Cause, we think, of his ambition,
  And of his restless disposition.

The Bonaparte family was not rich, their sole means of living being
from the father’s professional exertions, and the family was very
large, and many mouths to feed; in fact, they were in somewhat
straitened circumstances, but not in such squalid poverty as Gillray
depicts them, in the accompanying illustration, where our hero may be
seen, with his brothers and sisters, gnawing the _bony part_ of a shin
of beef.

Madame Junot[19] says, ‘Saveria told me that Napoleon was never a
pretty boy, as Joseph had been; his head always appeared too large for
his body, a defect common to the Bonaparte family. When Napoleon grew
up, the peculiar charm of his countenance lay in his eye, especially in
the mild expression it assumed in his moments of kindness. His anger,
to be sure, was frightful, and though I am no coward, I never could
look at him in his fits of rage without shuddering. Though his smile
was captivating, yet the expression of his mouth when disdainful, or
angry, could scarcely be seen without terror. But that forehead which
seemed formed to bear the crowns of a whole world; those hands, of
which the most coquettish woman might have been vain, and whose white
skin covered muscles of iron; in short, of all that personal beauty
which distinguished Napoleon as a young man, no traces were discernible
in the boy.’


The young Bonaparte and his wretched Relatives in their native Poverty,
while Free Booters in the island of Corsica.]

Napoleon said of himself: ‘I was an obstinate and inquisitive child. I
was extremely headstrong; nothing overawed me, nothing disconcerted me.
I made myself formidable to the whole family. My brother Joseph was the
one with whom I was oftenest embroiled; he was bitten, beaten, abused:
I went to complain before he had time to recover his confusion.’

At ten years of age, through the medium of his patron, Count Marbœuf,
he was sent to the military school at Brienne, which he entered on
April 23, 1779. Here he was shy and reserved, and not at all liked
by his schoolfellows, who twitted him with his poverty, the country
whence he came, his name, and made reflections on his mother; the last
particularly exasperating him. His veracious Hudibrastic historian

  When he two years at school had been,
  He proved more violent and mean:
  Unlike his sprightly fellow boys,
  Amused with playthings and with toys;
  At shuttlecock he’d never stop,
  Nor deign to whip the bounding top.
  His garden was his sole delight,
  Which ne’er improv’d his mental sight;
  But thus in childhood serv’d to show
  He was to all mankind a foe.
  His schoolfellows, in keen sedateness,
  He robb’d to prove his urchin greatness:
  Deluded by his wheedling art,
  Some cheerfully resign’d a part
  Of their possessions, and to these    }
  He added what he chose to seize;      }
  Then, planting it with num’rous trees }
  And putting palisades all round,
  He strutted monarch of the ground;

         *       *       *       *       *

         *       *       *       *       *

  ’Twas on a welcome festive morn,
  For some great saint divinely born.
  No matter why, it was a jolly day,
  Boys must be merry on a holiday;
  And now behold their bulging pockets,
  Enrich’d with pistols, squibs, and rockets--
  When some, but humbly begg’d his pardon
  Threw fireworks into Boney’s garden;
  ’Twas chiefly manag’d by the breeze
  Which sent them ’mong his plants and trees;
  Bursting, the cracks were oft repeated,
  Nap’s ears were with the thunder greeted;
  Th’ explosions discomposed, I wot,
  Th’ arrangement of the lovely spot.
  Nap saw it with corroding spite,
  And now began his lips to bite;
  But strove his anger to restrain,
  Until revenge he could obtain.


  For weeks he plann’d what he should do,
  And in about a month or two
  Contrived his infamous design,
  By having made a kind of mine
  Beside the garden; where, in haste,
  Long trains of gunpowder he plac’d;
  Deliberately now, as stated,
  He for the little fellows waited;
  And just as they were passing through it,
  A lighted bit of stick put to it;
  The boys were suddenly alarm’d,
  And some were miserably harm’d,
  While all, with fright and consternation,
  Were in a state of perturbation.
  Th’ _heroic_ Boney, with a club,
  Now came the sufferers to drub;
  But soon the master was in sight,
  Which put the Conqueror to flight.



On October 14 or 17, 1784, he left Brienne for the Ecole Militaire at

Gillray, when he drew the picture (on next page) of the abject, ragged,
servile-looking Napoleon, could hardly have realised the fact that
Napoleon was then over fifteen years of age, and that, having been
already five years at a military school, he must necessarily have
carried himself in a more soldierly manner. He stayed at the Ecole
Militaire till August 1875, when he obtained his brevet of second
lieutenant of Artillery in the regiment of La Fère. Madame Junot[20]
tells an amusing anecdote of him at this period, which I must be
pardoned introducing here, as it helps us to imagine his personal
appearance. ‘I well recollect that on the day when he first put on his
uniform, he was as vain as young men usually are on such an occasion.
There was one part of his dress which had a very droll appearance--that
was his boots. They were so high and wide, that his little thin legs
seemed buried in their amplitude. Young people are always ready to
observe anything ridiculous; and, as soon as my sister and I saw
Napoleon enter the drawing-room, we burst into a loud fit of laughter.
At that early age, as well as in after life, Bonaparte could not relish
a joke; and when he found himself the object of merriment, he grew


Bonaparte when a boy received thro’ the King’s bounty into the Ecole
Militaire at Paris.]

‘My sister, who was some years older than I, told him that since he
wore a sword he ought to be gallant to ladies; and, instead of being
angry, should be happy that they joked with him. “You are nothing
but a child--a little _pensionnaire_,” said Napoleon, in a tone of
contempt. Cecile, who was twelve or thirteen years of age, was highly
indignant at being called a child, and she hastily resented the affront
by replying to Bonaparte, “And you are nothing but a _puss in boots_.”
This excited a general laugh among all present, except Napoleon, whose
rage I will not attempt to describe. Though not much accustomed to
society, he had too much tact not to perceive that he ought to be
silent when personalities were introduced, and his adversary was a

‘Though deeply mortified at the unfortunate nickname which my sister
had given him, yet he affected to forget it; and to prove that he
cherished no malice on the subject, he got a little toy made, and gave
it to me. This toy consisted of a cat in boots, in the character of a
footman running before the carriage of the Marquis de Carabas. It was
very well made, and must have been rather expensive to him considering
his straitened finances. He brought along with it a pretty little
edition of the popular tale of _Puss in Boots_, which he presented to
my sister, begging her to keep it as a _token of his remembrance_.’

Napoleon afterwards frequently called Junot, _Marquis de Carabas_, and,
on one occasion, Madame Junot, in badinage, reminded Napoleon of his
present to her, at which he got very angry.

During his sub-lieutenancy he was very poor, yet he managed to go to
Corsica for six months, whilst Paoli, who had been living in England,
was there. There is a curious idea that, about this time (mentioned in
more places than one[21]), he applied for service under the British

  At this time Bonaparte scarce knew
  What for his maintenance to do--
  So he sat down, and quickly wrote
  A very condescending note,
  (Altho’ a wretched scrawl when written),
  Which to a Chieftain of Great Britain,
  He, soon as possible, dispatch’d,
  In which he swore he was attach’d
  Unto the British Constitution,
  And therefore form’d the resolution
  Of fighting in that country’s cause,
  For George the Third, and for his laws,
  If that his services were needed,
  And to his wishes they acceded.
  It seems that Bonaparte could trade well,
  He’d fight for any one that paid well;
  But he a disappointment got,
  Because his services were not
  By Britain’s chief Commander tried;
  The rank he sought for was denied.
  This was the cause of great displeasure,
  It mortified him above measure,
  And he gave England now as many a
  Curse, as before he e’er gave Genoa.

Nay, more extraordinary than all, it was even pretended that he lived
some time in England. The _Birmingham Journal_ of April 21, 1855,
affirms, on the authority of Mr. J. Coleman of the Strand, who is now
104 years of age, and whose portrait and biographical sketch appeared
in the _Illustrated London News_, Feb. 1850, and who knew perfectly
well M. Bonaparte, who, while he lived in London, which was for five
weeks, in 1791 or 1792, lodged in a house in George Street, Strand,
and whose chief occupation appeared to be taking pedestrian exercise
in the streets of London. Hence his marvellous knowledge of the great
metropolis, which used to astonish any Englishmen of distinction,
who were not aware of the visit. I have also heard Mr. Matthews,
the grandfather of the celebrated comedian, Mr. Thomas Goldsmith of
the Strand, Mr. Graves, Mr. Drury, and my father, all of whom were
tradesmen in the Strand, in the immediate vicinity of George Street,
speak of this visit. He occasionally took his cup of chocolate at
the Northumberland, occupying himself in reading, and preserving a
provoking taciturnity to the gentlemen in the room; though his manner
was stern, his deportment was that of a gentleman.’

Timbs[22] endorses this statement, in identically the same words of
a portion of the above, which he fathers on old Mr. Matthews, the
bookseller in the Strand, but we must recollect that Mr. Timbs was
writing the ‘_Romance_ of London.’

A personal description of Napoleon in 1793 may be interesting,
especially as it comes from a trustworthy pen.[23] ‘At that period
of his life Bonaparte was decidedly ugly; he afterwards underwent a
total change. I do not speak of the illusive charm which his glory
spread around him, but I mean to say that a gradual physical change
took place in him in the space of seven years. His emaciated thinness
was converted into a fulness of face, and his complexion, which had
been yellow, and apparently unhealthy, became clear and comparatively
fresh; his features, which were angular and sharp, became round and
filled out. As to his smile, it was always agreeable. The mode of
dressing his hair, which has such a droll appearance as we see it in
the prints of the bridge of Arcola, was then comparatively simple,
for young men of fashion (the _Muscadins_), whom he used to rail at
so loudly at that time, wore their hair very long. But he was very
careless of his personal appearance; and his hair, which was ill-combed
and ill-powdered, gave him the look of a sloven. His little hands, too,
underwent a great metamorphosis: when I first saw him, they were thin,
long, and dark; but he was subsequently vain of the beauty of them, and
with good reason.

‘In short, when I recollect Napoleon entering the courtyard of the
Hotel de la Tranquillité in 1793, with a shabby round hat drawn over
his forehead, and his ill-powdered hair hanging over the collar of his
great-coat, which afterwards became as celebrated as the white plume of
Henry IV., without gloves, because he used to say they were an useless
luxury, with boots ill-made and ill-blackened, with his thinness and
his sallow complexion; in fine, when I recollect him at that time, and
think what he was afterwards, I do not see the same man in the two

He was fortunate in obtaining a higher rank in the army, being promoted
to be commandant of artillery, and he joined the army besieging
Toulon on September 12, 1793. He found his chief, General Cartaux,
incompetent, and, from representations made to Paris, Cartaux was
superseded. There was very hard fighting at Toulon before it was taken,
Admiral Hood, and General O’Hara, commanding the British forces. The
latter being taken prisoner, much disheartened the English, but, at the
final assault, when the town was retaken by the French, the English and
Spanish gunners died fighting at their posts.


Our metrical History of Napoleon says,--

  The first shell ’gainst Toulon, ’tis said,
  The hand of Bonaparte had sped.

The vengeance of the French, on entering the town, was terrible; but
many thousands had taken shelter on board the British ships, leaving
only a few hundreds to be executed ‘according to law.’ Our poem
somewhat exaggerates.

  One of the Jacobins, whom Hood
  Had sent to prison for no good--
  A noted character indeed--
  By the republicans was freed.
  As vengeance he on all design’d
  Who to the English had been kind,
  Or in their dreadful situation
  Promoted the Capitulation,
  This miscreant selected then
  One thousand and four hundred men,
  Whom they determin’d to assassinate--
  A testimony of surpassing hate;
  And Boney was, with general voice,
  For executioner their choice.
  Indeed the choice was very good,
  For Boney was a man for blood.
  In sets, it was these wretches’ lot,
  To be brought forward to be shot:
  Nap gave the order with composure,
  The loaded guns were pointed so sure
  A dreadful carnage soon ensued--
  A carnage--horrible when view’d.
  Yet, _gallant_ Boney, with delight,
  Remain’d spectator of the sight.
  Nay, more, himself vers’d in hypocrisy,
  He thought he might perhaps some mock’ry see:
  So ‘Pardon! pardon!’ loud he said,
  To know if they were really dead;
  Some, who had counterfeited death,
  Rose up, and were deprived of breath!
  Poor souls! they knew not when he said it
  His word was not deserving credit.
  However two there were more wise,    }
  Who, having put on death’s disguise, }
  Could not be tempted thus to rise,   }
  But tarried till the wolves were gone,
  And then--a father found his son!



For the capture of Toulon, Bonaparte was speedily promoted; indeed, his
superior officer, Dugommier, in his report, said, ‘Reward and advance
this young man, otherwise he will find means to advance himself.’

He afterwards joined the army at Nice, and was sent on a secret
diplomatic mission to Genoa; on his return from which he was arrested
and thrown into prison, where he remained a fortnight before he
obtained his release. He was without any employment during the
remainder of 1794, and till the autumn of 1795. He was then in very
poor circumstances financially, and Madame Junot gives a graphic
picture of his distress at this time.[24] ‘Bonaparte’s servant informed
Mariette that the general was often in want of money;’ but, he added,
‘he has an aide-de-camp who shares with him all he gets. When he is
lucky at play, the largest share of his winnings is always for his
general. The aide-de-camp’s family sometimes sends him money, and
then almost all is given to the general. The general, adds the man,
loves this aide-de-camp as dearly as if he were his own brother.’ The
aide-de-camp was Junot, who got a commission after Toulon.

  The wretched Boney, we are told,
  Reduced, and shivering with the cold,
  To public houses used to rove,
  And warm his hands before a stove;
  Nay, in Corrozza, it is said,
  A large score still remains unpaid.
  He in an humble garret slept,
  Which never very clean was kept,
  Hence got he a disorder, which
  The vulgar people call the ‘itch.’
      Long might have been poor Nap’s dejection
  But for a pending insurrection;
  For now was entertained th’ intention
  Of overturning the Convention.
  The party by Barras were led,
  He of the rebels was the head;
  But, neither brave nor skilful reckon’d,
  He wish’d to have an able second.
  This task, by many, as we find,
  Was conscientiously declin’d;
  For every one of them well knew,
  A dreadful slaughter must ensue.
  Barras said in a thinking mood,
  ‘I know a rascal fond of blood--
  A little Corsican blackguard,
  But now to find him may be hard.’
  Then, having mentioned Boney’s name,
  They all agreed upon the same;
  And Tallien gladly undertook
  For the said Corsican to look.
  Soon Boney on their honors waited,
  Though all in rags as it is stated;
  And, matters being quick concluded,
  No ‘saucy doubts or fears’ intruded;
  Nap with a horse was soon provided,
  And regimentals he beside had.
      This scheme began they to contrive
  In seventeen hundred, ninety five.
  And of October, we may say,
  The fourth was now a fatal day!
  For, lo! the insurgents sallied out,
  And desolation spread about;
  All honest opposition fail’d
  And blood-stain’d tyranny prevail’d.
  Men, women, children, at a bitter rate
  The cries of ‘Treason,’ did reiterate,
  But nothing could their fury quell,
  For women, men, and children fell!
      Now, owing to this revolution,
  Was formed another Constitution;
  Nap this assembly went to meet,
  And laid his _trophies_ at their feet:
  These trophies were _eight thousand carcases_,
  Among the wounds, too, many a mark was his.
  A _second_ victory like this,
  Was to Barras extatic bliss.
  And Nap, for bravery extoll’d,
  No longer a blackguard was called;
  But as a hero now regarded,
  Was amply by Barras rewarded.
      In this life there is many a change,
  As unexpected and as strange:
  Then let us hope that this day’s sorrow
  May be tranquillity to-morrow:
  For, mark you how our hero rose,
  Who wanted money, shoes, and clothes;
  All those he had--and, what is more,
  His garret chang’d for a first floor;
  And such, too, was his happy lot,
  That he a place for Lucien got;
  Who, after this notorious slaughter,
  Had married an innkeeper’s daughter.

This is the satirist’s account of the revolt of the Sections, and
Bonaparte’s part therein. When applied to, he accepted the command, but
declared that he must act untrammelled, and not like Menon, who failed
through having three representatives of the people to counsel him. This
was agreed to, and Barras was chosen chief, with Napoleon under him.
The insurgents numbered some 40,000, the troops but 7,000; and such was
the moderation of the latter, that when the insurrection was quelled,
there were but seventy or eighty of the people killed, and between
three and four hundred wounded.

He was then made General of the Interior, and consequently Governor of
Paris, and this position led him more into society.

It is now that we come to a great epoch in his life, his meeting with
Josephine, which came about in a somewhat singular manner. At one of
his levées, a boy of twelve years, or so, called upon him. The lad
was Eugène de Beauharnais, son of a general of the Republic, who was
executed a few days before the death of Robespierre, and his errand was
to petition Napoleon that his father’s sword might be given to him.
To quote Napoleon’s own words, ‘I was so touched by this affectionate
request, that I ordered it to be given to him. On seeing the sword he
burst into tears: I felt so affected by his conduct, that I noticed
and praised him much. A few days afterwards, his mother came to return
me a visit of thanks; I was struck with her appearance, and still more
with her _esprit_.’ He was always meeting her in society, especially
at Barras’s house; and this intimacy, ripening into affection,
brought about their marriage. The following series of eight plates,
illustrating her life, were drawn by Woodward.

[Illustration: A PLANTER’S DAUGHTER.]

[Illustration: A FRENCH COUNTESS.]

Josephine (Marie Josephine Rose de la Pagerie) was born at Martinique,
according to De Bourrienne, on June 23, 1763, but others say it was
the same day of the month, only four years later. She was the daughter
of a planter in that island, and was a Creole, _i.e._ one born in a
French West Indian settlement. She was fourteen years old when she was
brought to France by her father, and being very graceful and pretty,
it was not long before she was married, which was to the Vicomte de
Beauharnais, on December 13, 1779. The union was not at first a happy
one. She went to Martinique, to see her mother, and stayed there about
fifteen months. Her husband was a general in the army of the Rhine,
but was singled out by Robespierre as a victim of his tyranny, was
imprisoned and beheaded. Josephine was also imprisoned, and it was at
La Force that she met with Madame Tallien--‘Nôtre Dame de Thermidor,’
as Arsène Houssaye calls her--who was also in prison. Here, uncertain
as to their fate, the female prisoners played at mock trials and
executions (for the trials always ended in condemnation), and day
by day their numbers grew less, as they were taken away to the real
tragedy which they had rehearsed. Scandal (French before it became
English) says that Barras, smitten by her charms, had her released on
condition that she became his mistress. Here is one French account:[25]
‘A cette époque, la jeune veuve du malheureux vicomte de Beauharnais,
mort sur l’échafaud, languissait aux Magdelonettes, où, depuis
longtems, elle était détenue comme suspecte. Intimement liée avec
Hoche, elle le pria de parler pour elle à Barras, alors tout-puissant.
Celui-ci ne connaissait la vicomtesse que de réputation; il voulut la
voir, et lui rendit visite dans sa prison.... Barras, séduit par la
conversation et les charmes personnels de la jeune veuve, devint, à la
première visite, et son protecteur, et son ami. Deux jours après, elle
fut rendue à la liberté.’

[Illustration: A WIDOW.]

[Illustration: A PRISONER.]

[Illustration: A LOOSE FISH.]

[Illustration: BARRAS’ MISTRESS.]

That Josephine gave rise to this scandal, is probably owing to her
intimacy with Madame Tallien and Barras. Barras, she was bound to
be grateful to, for by his means, a part of her husband’s property
was restored to her; but it was Tallien who, at his wife’s entreaty,
obtained the liberty, both of Josephine and Duchesse d’Aiguillon.
Madame Tallien’s receptions were the most brilliant in Paris, where
the prettiest and wittiest women met the men most distinguished in any
way, and common gratitude, at least, would have led Josephine to the
assemblies of her dear friend, who had shared her imprisonment, and
obtained her release.



Let us for a moment, as an antidote to the caricaturist’s pictures,
see what was Josephine’s dress at this period.[26] ‘Here is Madame de
Beauharnais, that excellent Josephine, whose heart is not made for
coquetry, but who throws a childish joy into her dress. With an air
less dramatic and superb than her rivals,[27] the joyous and kindly
creole is, perhaps, the most French of the three, Madame Tallien is the
most Greek, and Madame Viconti the most Roman. Josephine wears a wavy
dress, rose and white from top to bottom, with a train trimmed at the
bottom with black bugles, a bodice six fingers deep, and wearing no
_fichu_; short sleeves of black gauze, long gloves covering the elbow
of _noisette_ colour, which suits this beautiful violet so well; shoes
of yellow morocco; white stockings with green clocks. If her hair is
dressed after the Etruscan manner, ornamented with cherry-coloured
ribbons, I am sure it is impossible to approach nearer to the antique.
To tempt the fashion is the sole ambition of the pretty Josephine, but
it happens that the celebrated Madame de Beauharnais sets it.’

It is impossible to quit this subject without some contemporary
quotations, as they help us to realise the truth, or falsehood, of
the caricaturist.[28] ‘Madame Tallien was kind and obliging, but such
is the effect on the multitude of a name that bears a stain, that her
cause was never separated from that of her husband. The following is
a proof of this. Junot was the bearer of the second flags, which were
sent from the army of Italy to the Directory. He was received with all
the pomp which attended the reception of Marmont, who was the bearer of
the first colours. Madame Bonaparte, who had not yet set out to join
Napoleon, wished to witness the ceremony; and, on the day appointed for
the reception of Junot she repaired to the Directory, accompanied by
Madame Tallien. They lived at that time in great intimacy; the latter
was a fraction of the Directorial royalty with which Josephine, when
Madame Beauharnais, and, indeed, after she became Madame Bonaparte,
was in some degree invested. Madame Bonaparte was still a fine woman;
her teeth, it is true, were already frightfully decayed, but when her
mouth was closed she looked, especially at a little distance, both
young and pretty. As to Madame Tallien, she was then in the full bloom
of her beauty. Both were dressed in the antique style, which was then
the prevailing fashion, and with as much of richness and ornament as
were suitable to morning costume. When the reception was ended, and
they were about to leave the Directory, it may be presumed that Junot
was not a little proud to offer to escort these two charming women.
Junot was then a handsome young man of five and twenty, and he had the
military look and style for which, indeed, he was always remarkable. A
splendid uniform of a colonel of huzzars set off his fine figure to the
utmost advantage. When the ceremony was ended, he offered one arm to
Madame Bonaparte, who as his general’s wife was entitled to the first
honour, especially on that solemn day; and offering his other arm to
Madame Tallien, he conducted them down the staircase of the Luxembourg.
The crowd stepped forward to see them as they passed along. “That
is the general’s wife,” said one. “That is his aide de camp,” said
another. “He is very young.” “She is very pretty.--_Vive le General
Bonaparte!--Vive la Citoyenne Bonaparte!_ She is a good friend to the
poor.” “Ah!” exclaimed a great fat market woman, “She is _Notre Dame
des Victoires_!” “You are right,” said another, “and see who is on the
other side of the officer; that is _Notre Dame de Septembre_!” This was
severe and it was also unjust.’

We must not trust to the caricaturist’s portrait of Josephine. She was
good looking and graceful then, but, afterwards, she did become very
stout. We must never forget in looking over the folios of caricatures
of this period, that the idea of caricaturing then was to exaggerate
everything, and make it grotesque; it is only of modern years that the
refinement of a Leech, Tenniel, or Proctor, gives us caricature without

After seeing Josephine as she really was, it will be worth while to
compare the satirist’s idea of her, and her marriage with Napoleon.

  Nap changed on entering Society,
  Obscurity for notoriety;
  He to Barras only inferior,
  Commands the army of th’ interior.
  As pride in office is essential,
  His manners now were consequential;
  Conducting all affairs of weight,
  The little man was very great;
  And by this sudden rise to dignity,
  He gave full weight to his malignity.
  Barras, now moved by his persuasions,
  Consulted him on all occasions;
  A greater compliment, too, paid he,
  He got for him, a _cast off_ lady:
  A widow rich, as they relate,
  But how so rich, ’tis hard to state,
  Her spouse, for politics reputed,
  By Robespierre was executed,
  And she was by Barras _protected_,
  Till he at length the fair neglected.
  However, she procured with great art,
  A man of colour for a sweetheart;
  By which no fortune’s manifested,
  For men of colour are detested;
  They married would have been, moreover,
  But that--in stepped another lover;

         *       *       *       *       *

         *       *       *       *       *

  There are some writers who pretend,
  The lady’s virtue to defend;
  For, in the character they draw,
  She’s guilty of but one _faux pas_;
  But others, probably censorious,
  Declare her lapses were notorious,
  And that, devoid of sense and shame,
  She even gloried in the same;
  So reckoning all things, the amount is,
  She was a _condescending_ countess.
  The lady was, as it appears,
  Older than Nap by twenty years;
  But, for a man, who scorned to prove
  The votary or slave of love--
  Whispering soft nonsense, and such stuff--
  She certainly was good enough.
  Short, like himself, and rather bulky,
  But not so insolent and sulky.
  As by Barras, too, recommended
  (No matter from what stock descended),
  It certainly must be allow’d
  Of such a wife he should be proud.
  So, locked together, soon were seen,
  Brave Boney and fair Josephine.

The pictorial caricaturist, Gillray, gives us February 20, 1805,
‘Ci-devant occupations, or Madame Tallien, and the Empress Josephine
Dancing Naked before Barras, in the Winter of 1797--a fact.’[29]


At the foot of this etching, which depicts the sensual _bon viveur_,
Barras, looking on at the lascivious dancing of his two mistresses,
Madame Tallien and Josephine, it says: ‘Barras (then in power), being
tired of Josephine, promised Bonaparte a promotion, on condition that
he would take her off his hands. Barras had, as usual, drank freely,
and placed Bonaparte behind a screen, while he amused himself with
these two ladies, who were then his humble dependents. Madame Tallien
is a beautiful woman, tall and elegant. Josephine is smaller, and
thin, with bad teeth something like cloves. It is needless to add that
Bonaparte accepted the promotion, and the lady, now Empress of France!’

Barre, who notoriously wrote against Napoleon, says:[30] ‘And not
satisfied by procuring him a splendid appointment, he made him marry
his mistress, the Countess de Beauharnais, a rich widow, with several
children; and who, although about twenty years older than Bonaparte,
was a very valuable acquisition to a young man without any fortune. The
reputation of the Countess de Beauharnais was well established, even
before the Revolution: but Buonaparte had not the least right to find
fault with a woman presented to him by Barras.’

At all events they were married, and here is G. Cruikshank’s idea of
the ceremony, and here, also, he depicts the bridesmaids and groomsmen.


Their honeymoon was of the shortest, for De Bourrienne says: ‘He
remained in Paris only ten days after his marriage, which took place on
the 9th of March, 1796. Madame Bonaparte possessed personal graces and
many good qualities. I am convinced that all who were acquainted with
her must have felt bound to speak well of her; to few, indeed, did she
ever give cause for complaint. Benevolence was natural to her, but she
was not always prudent in its exercise. Hence her protection was often
extended to persons who did not deserve it. Her taste for splendour and
expense was excessive. This proneness to luxury became a habit which
seemed constantly indulged without any motive. What scenes have I not
witnessed when the moment for paying the tradesmen’s bills arrived! She
always kept back one half of their claims, and the discovery of this
exposed her to new reproaches. How many tears did she shed, which might
easily have been spared!’

We here see the caricaturist’s idea of Josephine as a French general’s

[Illustration: A GENERAL’S LADY.]



Napoleon now waxed great. Through Barras’ influence he was made
Commander in Chief of the army of Italy, and bade adieu to his wife
after the very brief period of conjugal life, as aforesaid, and, on the
way to join the army, he visited his mother and family, at Marseilles,
writing frequent and affectionate letters to his newly married bride.

Montenotte was his first victory, the precursor of so many; and on
April 11, 1796, he there defeated the Austrian general, Beaulieu, who
was compelled to retreat, leaving behind him his colours, and cannon,
about two thousand prisoners, and about a thousand killed.

The French army then was in a bad state, according to a serious
historian.[31] ‘The extreme poverty of the treasury may be understood
from the fact that the sum of two thousand louis was all that could
be collected to furnish him (Napoleon) with means for so important
a command. By an organised system of pillage, says Lanfrey, the
Republican coffers were soon replenished to the amount of several
millions!’ Another historian[32] says: ‘Scherer, who was at that time
commander-in-chief of the army of Italy, had recently urged for money
to pay his troops, and for horses to replace those of his cavalry which
had perished for want of food; and declared that, if any delay took
place in furnishing the requisite supplies, he should be obliged to
evacuate the Genoese territory, and repass the Var. The Directory found
it easier to remove the General than to comply with his request.’ Our
poetic history relates:--

  Such was the army’s sad condition,
  They had no clothes nor ammunition,
  Besides, a scarcity of food,
  And even that little, was not good.
  They had no money--may be said--
  And why? The men were never paid.
  But his intentions wisely Nap hid,
  Whose methods were as strange as rapid.
  He promis’d, when he was appointed,
  To get them everything they wanted;
  And, what is more, too, their protector be,
  Without expense to the Directory.

         *       *       *       *       *

         *       *       *       *       *

  In his deceptions he succeeded,
  And now procur’d all that he needed.
  His troops which were with hunger nigh dead,
  Were with good victuals soon provided;
  They for new clothes exchang’d their rags,
  And then with Rhino fill’d their bags;
  While Nap, as you may well believe,
  These people laughed at in his sleeve.

It is not within the province of this work to follow Napoleon in his
victorious career in Italy, except the English caricaturist should
notice him, and he had not yet attained to that questionable honour;
but a very brief synopsis of his battles in 1796 may be acceptable.
Montenotte, April 11; Millesino, April 14; Dégan, April 15; Mondovi,
April 21; Lodi, May 10; Lonado, August 3; Castiglione, August 5;
Roveredo, September 4; Bassano, September 8; San Giargo, September 13;
Arcola, November 15.

Barre says: ‘The campaign in Italy was extremely brilliant, and withal
revolutionary. Buonaparte attributed all the glory almost exclusively
to himself. His secretary, who wrote his despatches, did it so as
to flatter the generals and the army, but still as if all the merit
belonged to the commander-in-chief. It seems that General Berthier
made a bargain with Buonaparte, to whom he sold his talents for the
sake of becoming rich without any responsibility. When Buonaparte was
raised by the mixed faction, he made Berthier Minister of War; and
in that capacity he has shown himself more rapacious than any of his
predecessors. Every contractor is obliged to give him _one hundred
thousand livres_ as a present (_pot de vin_) without which there is
no contract.’ He tells a story which bears somewhat on the above. ‘It
happened once, that whilst he was playing at cards, having General
Massena for his partner, that general made a mistake; when Buonaparte
started, all of a sudden, in a violent passion, and exclaimed, _Sacré
Dieu! General, you make me lose_. But General Massena instantly
retorted with a happy sarcasm: _Be easy, General, remember that I often
make you win_. Buonaparte could never forget nor forgive that _bon
mot_.’ This story also figures in poetry:--

  In numbers being three to one,
  A Battle at Monte Notte he won;
  The Austrian General he defeated,
  And therefore with huzzas was greeted.
  But, tho’ of this affair Conductor,
  Massena had been his instructor.
  Yet, when (would you believe it, Bards?)
  Nap’s partner at a game of Cards,
  He scrupled not his friend t’ abuse--
  ‘Zounds! general, how you make me lose!’
  The general, patient all the while,
  Thus answer’d with a gracious smile,
  ‘For such a loss don’t care a pin,
  Remember, Nap, I’ve made you _win_.’
  Tho’ nothing but the truth he spoke,
  Nap never could forgive the joke.

It is impossible to pass over in silence an event which happened in
1796, in which, although Napoleon was not personally interested, all
England was. This was no less than an attempted invasion of Ireland
by the French; relying on being supported by the Irish, who were
disaffected then, as now. The expedition failed, although it was
numerous and well-found, having General Hoche and 25,000 men with it.
By defective seamanship, many of the ships were damaged, and a 74 gun
ship, the _Seduisant_, was totally lost. Only one division, commanded
by Admiral Bouvet, reached Ireland, but anchored in Bantry Bay, where
they did nothing, but speedily weighed anchor, and returned to France.
The following is an official letter on the subject:--

            Dublin Castle, December 29, 1796.

    My Lord[33]--The last accounts from General Dalrymple are
    by his aide-de-camp, Captain Gordon, who left Bantry at ten
    o’clock A.M. on Tuesday, and arrived here this morning.
    Seventeen sail of French ships were at that time at anchor
    on the lower part of Bear island, but at such a distance
    that their force could not be ascertained. A lieutenant of a
    French frigate was driven on shore in his boat, in attempting
    to quit his vessel, which was dismasted, to the admiral. He
    confirms the account of the fleet being French, with hostile
    views to this country, but does not appear to know whether the
    whole fleet, which consisted of about 17 sail of the line, 15
    frigates, and including transports and luggers, amounted to
    fifty sail, were all to re-assemble off Bantry. General Hoche
    was on board, commanding a considerable force. I have the
    honour to be, my lord,

          Your lordship’s most obedient servant,
            T. PELHAM.

Just let us glance for one moment at the social position of England at
that time. For the first three months of the year the quartern loaf was
1_s._ 3_d._; in April it fell to 10_d._: in June it rose to 11_d._;
in September it fell to 8¼_d._; at which it remained all the year.
There was a surplus of revenue over expenditure of over twenty-three
millions, which must have gratified the Chancellor of the Exchequer;
the exports exceeded those in 1795 by 1,781,297_l._, and the London
Brewers brewed 142,700 more barrels of porter than the previous year;
3 per cent. Consols varied from 71 in January (the highest price) to
56-3/8 in December (nearly their lowest).



Such a subject as the spoliation of Italian works of art was not likely
to go a-begging among caricaturists, so George Cruikshank illustrated
the poet Combe.


  As Nap (for his extortions fam’d),
  Of livres twenty millions claim’d;
  Which sum, we also understand,
  Pope Pius paid upon demand;
  And sixteen million more, they say,
  Was bound in two months’ time to pay
  With these exactions not content,
  To further lengths our hero went;
  A hundred paintings, and the best,
  Were, we are told, his next request.
  At his desire, the precious heaps came,
  (It was indeed a very deep scheme),
  Loretta’s statues so pleased Boney,
  They instantly packed up _Madona_:
  These relics then, without delay,
  To Paris Boney sent away;
  And there they formed an exhibition
  As proof of Papal superstition.

At the siege of Mantua, Würmser sent his aide-de-camp Klenau to
Napoleon to treat for terms of peace. G. Cruikshank depicts the scene.
Klenau is brought in blindfolded, and Bonaparte, surrounded by his
guard, strikes a melodramatic attitude, worthy of a pirate captain at a
transpontine theatre.


The real facts are thus described by Horn. ‘Mantua was now without
hope of relief. The hospitals were crowded, the provisions exhausted;
but Würmser still held out. Napoleon informed him of the rout and
dispersion of the Austrian army, and summoned him to surrender. The old
soldier proudly replied that “he had provisions for a year;” but a few
days afterwards he sent his aide-de-camp, Klenau, to the head-quarters
of Serrurier to treat for a surrender.

‘At the conference, a French officer sat apart from the two others,
wrapped in his cloak, but within hearing of what passed. After the
discussion was finished, this officer came forward and wrote marginal
answers to the conditions proposed by Würmser; granting terms far
more favourable than those which might have been exacted in the
extremity to which the veteran was reduced. “These,” said the unknown
officer, giving back the paper, “are the terms that I grant, if he
opens his gates to-morrow; and if he delays a fortnight, a month, or
two months, he shall have the same terms. He may hold out to his last
morsel of bread; to-morrow I pass the Po and march upon Rome.” Klenau,
recognising Napoleon, and struck with the generosity of the conditions
he had granted, owned that only three days’ provisions remained in

The earliest English caricature of Napoleon that I have met with, was
published on April 14, 1797, all those hitherto given, being of later
date. It is not worth reproducing, as the artist had evidently no
knowledge of what manner of man Napoleon was. It is called the ‘French
Bugabo[34] frightening the Royal Commanders.’ Bonaparte (a perfectly
fanciful, and horrible sketch) is seated on the back of some impossible
Saurian--meant, probably, for the devil--who is vomiting armies and
cannon. He calls out, ‘Egad, they run well. Courez donc Messieurs les
Princes!!!’ Of the two royal commanders running away, Frederick Duke
of York is calling out to his companion, ‘I wish I was at York. Come
on, Charles, follow me.’ Fox, who acts the part of ‘the sweet little
cherub that sits up aloft,’ says, ‘Run, Frederick, run Charles, Mack,
Wurmsell, Kell; well done D’Alvinzi, now Davidovich.’ The poor Pope is
being trodden under the beast, and cries out, ‘Oh Lord! this rebel son
of mine pays me no homage whatever.’

Of all the attempts of the French to invade England, perhaps the most
ludicrous was that which took place in February 1797. On the 22nd
of that month, a French corvette, and a lugger, made for the coast
of Pembrokeshire, and there landed some 1,200 men. Two days after,
they surrendered to Lord Cawdor, and were sent to Haverfordwest: but,
before the arrival of the military, the peasants attacked them with
rough weapons, such as pikes and scythes. The ships, which brought
this invading army over, were captured on their return to Brest. The
following is an official letter to the Lord Mayor, respecting the

    My Lord,--I have the honour to acquaint your lordship that
    intelligence has been received that two French Frigates, a
    Corvette, and a lugger, appeared off the East of Pembrokeshire,
    on the 22nd instant, and, on the evening of that day,
    disembarked some troops (reported by deserters to be about
    1,200 men, but without any field pieces). Every exertion had
    been made by the Lord Lieutenant, and gentlemen of that county,
    and its neighbourhood, for taking the proper steps on this
    occasion; and the greatest zeal and loyalty has been shewn by
    all ranks of people. Immediately, on an account having been
    received at Plymouth, of this force having appeared in the
    Bristol Channel, frigates were despatched from Plymouth in
    quest of them.

          I have the honour to be, &c.

In the ‘Times’ of March 13, 1797, is the following:--

    _Commodore_ NELSON’S _Receipt to make an Olla-Podrida._

    Take a Spanish first-rate, and an 80 gun ship and after well
    _battering_ and _basting_ them for an hour, keep throwing in
    your _force balls_, and be sure to let them be _well seasoned_.
    Your _fire_ must never _slacken_ for a single moment, but
    must be kept up as _brisk_ as possible during the whole time.
    So soon as you perceive your Spaniards to be well _stewed_ and
    _blended_ together you must then throw your own ship on board
    of the two-decker. Lash your sprit-sail-yard to her mizen-mast:
    then jump into her quarter gallery, sword in hand, and let the
    rest of your boarders follow as they can. The moment you appear
    on the 80 gun ship’s quarter deck, the Spaniards will all throw
    down their arms and fly: you will then have only to take a hop,
    step and a jump, from your _stepping stone_, and you will find
    yourself in the middle of the first-rate’s quarter-deck with
    all the Spaniards at your feet. Your Olla Podrida may now be
    considered as completely _dished_ and fit to be set before his
    MAJESTY.--_Nelson’s New Art of Cookery._

Negotiations for peace with France had been going on during the year,
and Lord Malmesbury went over to Lisle to conduct them on the part of
the English, but they came to nothing. The French, however, in order to
keep us in anxiety, massed large quantities of troops on their coast,
which the Directory ordered should be called the ‘Army of England,’
and they gave Bonaparte the command of it. It was destined to come to
nothing. Napoleon had made peace with the Austrians, and was then given
the above command.

  Among themselves[35] they had indeed,
  On Nap’s departure all agreed;
  For, one of his prodigious sway,
  ’Twas policy to send away.
  So Barras, who had such a wise head,
  Albion’s immediate fall advised.
  And to send Boney, he thought best,
  To head the army in the West,
  Which had a pompous appellation,
  As ’twas to rouse the English nation;
  The ‘Army of England’ it was named,
  Though never for an action famed;
  They had, indeed, for the occasion,
  (We mean of the resolv’d invasion),
  Rafts and Balloons, and ships for diving,
  And other matters were contriving.
  The business settled, Barras wrote
  To his _dear_ Bonaparte a note.
  ‘Your loving friend now reinstates you,
  Another victory awaits you--
  To Albion’s shores conduct your army,
  There’s nothing there that can alarm ye;
  I will each necessary thing lend,
  That you may sack the Bank of England;
  On London’s Tower let them see
  The Standard of French Liberty.’
  Some of the Ministers it seems
  Thought this the maddest of all schemes;
  Tho’ Barras with fine words embellish’d it--
  Not even Mr. Boney relish’d it;
  And very soon, it must be own’d
  The project wisely was postpon’d.

Thus stood things at the end of 1797, a year which left the public
pulse--the Three per Cent. Consols--at 49 (they had, in September,
dropped to 47-7/8), and the quartern loaf about eightpence all the year



In 1798 the caricatures with regard to the relations between France
and England became more numerous, and in this year the personal entity
of Napoleon is confessed, and his likeness, a somewhat rough one, but
still recognisable, is established. An early one in this year is,
the ‘Storm Rising, or the Republican Flotilla in danger,’ Feb. 1798,
by Gillray. Fox, Sheridan, the Duke of Bedford, and Mr. Tierney are
represented as working a windlass, which is used to pull over the
Flotilla. This is represented by a huge raft bristling with cannon;
a large fort is in the centre, and minor ones all around which bear
flags inscribed ‘Liberty, Atheism, Blasphemy, Invasion, Requisitions,
Plunder, Beggary, Murder, Destruction, Anarchy, and Slavery. It is
represented as coming from Brest, where the devil is seen dancing on
a guillotine, fiddling, and singing, “Over de Vater! over de Vater to
Charley!”’ Fox’s coat lies on the ground, together with a paper, a
‘List of the New Republican Ministry. Citizen Volpone (Fox) Premier.’
Their designs, however, are being defeated by Pitt, who as Eolus, is
raising a storm, and blowing against the Flotilla, the Admirals Duncan,
Curtis, Howe, Gardiner, Trollope, Colpoys, St. Vincent, Seymour,
Parker, and Onslow. A somewhat similar idea was worked out in a
caricature by Isaac[36] Cruikshank, January 28, 1789.

In March Sir John Dalrymple drew, and Gillray etched, a series of four
caricatures. The first was called the ‘Consequences of a successful
French Invasion,’ and it shows the French clearing out the House of
Commons, and the members in fetters. The second engraving is, ‘We
explain de Rights of Man to de Noblesse.’ Paine’s doctrines are being
carried out in far more than their entirety. A guillotine takes the
place of the throne, and the French commander orders, à la Cromwell,
one of his men, ‘Here, take away this bauble! but if there be any gold
on it take it to my lodging.’


The next one is a slap in the face for Ireland, and is called, ‘We fly
on the wings of the wind to save the Irish Catholics from persecution,’
and French sympathy is shown by a priest being stabbed, and the holy
vessels trampled on.

The fourth is ‘Me teach de English Republicans to work,’ and the French
are represented as cruel taskmasters. Men and women are put to work in
the fields, and Republicans, with fearful whips, keep them up to the
mark of efficiency. Others are harnessed to a plough, and are kept well
to their work by a most cruel lash.

Napoleon gave up all idea of invading England, and in May the
expedition to Egypt was formed.

Fox’s French proclivities are shown in a caricature (the Shrine of
St. Anne’s Hill,[37] May 26, 1798, Gillray) where he is seen on his
knees before an altar, on which are a cap of liberty, and two busts of
Robespierre and Buonaparte. The reredos is composed of a guillotine,
and the tables of the ten commandments are labelled ‘Droit de l’homme.
1. Right to worship whom we please. 2. Right to create and bow down to
anything we chuse to set up. 3. Right to use in vain any name we like.
4. Right to work 9 days in the Week and do what we please on the tenth.
5. Right to honor both Father and Mother when we find it necessary.
6. Right to Kill. 7. Right to commit Adultery. 8. Right to Plunder.
9. Right to bear what Witness we please. 10. Right to covet our
Neighbour’s house and all that is his.’ Nichols, Tierney, Lauderdale,
Bedford, Lansdowne, and Norfolk, appear in the upper background as

When the invasion panic was abroad, patriotism was rampant, and
everybody was very brave--on paper. This was the sort of stuff the
people were fed on, of which I will give but two or three verses out of
the eight.[38]

  While deeds of Hell deface the World,
  And GALLIA’S throne in ruin lies,
  While round the Earth revolt is hurl’d,
  And Discord’s baneful Banner flies--
  Loud shall the loyal BRITON sing
  To arms! to arms! your bucklers bring,
  To shield our Country, guard our King,
  And GEORGE and ENGLAND save.

  Ne’er shall the desolating Woe
  That shades with horror Europe o’er,
  To us her hideous image shew,
  Or steep in blood this happy shore;
  Firm as our rock-bound Isle we’ll stand,
  With watchful eye and iron hand,
  To wield the might of BRITAIN’S land,
  And GEORGE and ENGLAND save.

  Oh, happy Isle! wise order’d State!
  Well temper’d work of Freedom’s hand!
  No Shock of Realms can touch thy fate,
  If Union bind thy sea-girt Land!
  Vainly the storms shall round thee ring,
  While BRITAIN’S sons in concord sing,
  We’ll shield our Country, guard our King
  And GEORGE and ENGLAND save.

To give some idea of the commotion caused by the threat of invasion,
and yet not to be wearisome on the subject, I will only give the
warlike items in the number of the _True Briton_, from which the above
verses are taken, and which may be accepted as a fair sample. ‘We
understand that the Duke of Bedford has received an answer from his
Royal Highness the Commander in Chief to his offer of service, that
it would be highly acceptable to the Government if he would exert his
influence in Devonshire for the defence of the Coast.’ ‘His Grace
the Duke of Grafton has not only offered to furnish his waggons and
horses to Government, in case of emergency, but has also expressed
his desire to encourage all his neighbours and tenants to assist with
their persons and teams as far as may be in their power.’ ‘Last week
there was a respectable Meeting of the Inhabitants of Stowmarket, at
which it was unanimously agreed to form a Volunteer Corps of Infantry
for the defence of that Town and Hundred.’ ‘In the county of Bedford,
Lord Ongley, Mr. Trevor, and Mr. Whitbread, raise, each of them, a
troop of Yeomanry. The town of Bedford raises a troop of Volunteer
Cavalry.’ ‘A Meeting was held at Newmarket on Sunday last, after
Divine Service, for aiding Government in case of Invasion, pursuant
to the Regulations of Mr. Dundas’s Defence Bill; when the Inhabitants
all came forward in a very laudable manner for that purpose, and most
of the labourers offered their services as pioneers, or in any other
capacity that may be deemed necessary.’ ‘The farmers of the Parish
of Tarvin, in Cheshire, have set a noble example to their brethren
throughout the Kingdom, in having entered into an agreement that they
will, at a moment’s notice, in case of actual invasion, or imminent
danger thereof, furnish their respective teams, with able horses and
drivers, for the service of Government, free from any payment or
gratuity whatever; and the number of each which they bind themselves to
furnish, are 39 waggons, 68 carts, 347 horses, and an adequate number
of drivers.’

This is the voluntary, patriotic side of the question; take next
day’s paper, and we see, ‘There was a sharp press from the ships in
Yarmouth Roads on Tuesday evening, by which means some good Seamen were

There is a vast amount of humour in ‘Anticipation, Ways and Means,
or Buonaparte really taken’ (I. Cruikshank, August 13, 1798). This
represents a booth at a country fair, where a Pierrot in tricolour
costume (Fox), is showing to a lot of yokels a highly imaginative
show canvas of Napoleon, with huge mouth and teeth, goggle eyes, two
daggers, and immense boots and spurs. ‘To be seen here alive, the noted
Bony Parte, from Egypt. ☞ An undoubted likeness.’ With tears streaming
down his cheeks, he assures his audience that ‘he is certainly taken. I
never was so pleased at any event in the whole course of my life.’

Pitt, who, suffering from gout, sits down and acts as trumpeter to the
show, addresses the people thus: ‘Believe me, I do not mean to deceive
you this time: he is really _taken_, and in this Booth at this present
moment. Out with your pence good people--don’t be so shy--Tumble up Mr.
Bull--the only booth in the fair! don’t be alarm’d--he is perfectly
tame I assure you.’

The expedition to Egypt may be said to be the starting-point from
which came the numerous caricatures of Napoleon. Before this, he had
been known only by his victorious career in Italy, and had never come
into active hostility with England; but now that we were to measure
our strength with the Chief of the ‘Army of England,’ he became an
important person, and, consequently, the caricaturists, ever feeling
the public pulse, took him up, and found it to their benefit.

The occupation of Egypt by the French, if successful, would have led to
their attacking our empire in India, and this was Napoleon’s design.
Why the flotilla was ever allowed to go on its way unmolested, is
hard to conceive; but it was so, and on May, 19, 1798, sailed out of
Toulon 13 sail of the line, 7 frigates, 62 gunboats, and 400 transport
vessels, having 20,000 troops and large quantities of military stores
on board. There were also 121 men learned in different branches of
science, who accompanied the expedition, and the whole was under the
supreme command of Napoleon.

On June 11 they reached Malta, which surrendered without resistance,
and then went on their way. Nelson followed them, and got to Malta,
where he arrived on the 22nd, only to find that the French had left
some days before, on which he sailed for Alexandria, getting there on
June 28, but found no news of the French fleet; so, instead of waiting
for them, he steered northward for Caramania, and then went to Sicily;
whence, after refitting, he sailed again for Alexandria.

In the meantime the French, of course, took advantage of his (to them)
lucky absence; and, on July 2, they disembarked the army, and took
possession of Alexandria, but not without some loss on the side of the
French; and the bodies of the soldiers thus slain were by Napoleon’s
orders buried at the foot of Pompey’s Pillar, and their names were to
be engraved on the Column.

And now, as it will be a frequent article of impeachment against
Napoleon in this book, let us examine into the truth of his turning
Mahometan, and see, first, what foundation it had in fact from the
mouths of his own countrymen. De Bourrienne gives a proclamation made
by Napoleon to his soldiers before their arrival in Egypt, from which I
extract only those sentences bearing on this subject:--

            Head Quarters, on board the ‘Orient.’
          The 4th Messidor, Year VI. (June 22, 1798.)

    Soldiers,--The people amongst whom you are going to live, are
    Mahometans. The first article of their faith is this: ‘There is
    no God but God, and Mahomet is his Prophet.’ Do not contradict
    this. Behave to them as you have behaved to the Jews--to the
    Italians. Pay respect to their muftis, and their imams, as you
    did to the rabbis and the bishops. Extend to the ceremonies
    prescribed by the Alcoran, and to the Mosques, the same
    toleration which you showed to the synagogues, to the religion
    of Moses, and of Jesus Christ. The Roman legions protected all

And again, the same author says: ‘On arriving at Alexandria, the
General in Chief issued a proclamation to the people of Egypt, which,
besides adverting to the insults and extortions experienced by French
merchants from the Beys, contained the following passages:--

‘“People of Egypt,--You will be told that I am come to destroy your
religion--do not believe it. Be assured that I come to restore your
rights, to punish the usurpers, and that I respect more than the
Mamelukes, God, his prophet, and the Alcoran. Tell them that all men
are equal in the eye of God; wisdom, talents, and virtue make the only

‘“Cadis, Sheiks, Imans, Scorbajis, tell the people that we are the
friends of the true Mussulmans. Have we not destroyed the Pope, who
says that war ought to be made upon Mussulmans? Have we not destroyed
the Knights of Malta, because those bigots believed that God required
them to raise their swords against the Mussulmans?”’

And again (still quoting from the same authority), in a proclamation
to the people of Cairo, dated from Ghizeh, 4th Thermidor, year VI.
(July 22, 1798): ‘Fear nothing for your families, your houses, or your
property; and least of all, for the religion of the prophet, which I
respect (_j’aime_).’

In another proclamation to the inhabitants of Cairo, according to
‘Buonapartiana,’ he is made to say: ‘Make known to the people that
since the world has been a world, it was written, that having destroyed
the _enemies of Islamism_, _the Cross_ should be thrown down; I have
come from the extreme confines of the West, to fulfil the task which
has been imposed upon me. Shew your people that in the book of the
Koran, in more than twenty passages, that what has happened has been
predicted, and that what will happen is equally explained.’

In a French History[39] he is described as conversing with the Muftis
and Imams in the Pyramid of Cheops. At p. 171 he says, ‘Honour to
Allah!’ at p. 172, ‘Glory to Allah! There is no other God but God,
Mahomet is his prophet, and I am one of his friends;’ and at p. 173,
‘Mufti, I thank you, the divine Koran is the joy of my soul, and the
occupation of my eyes. I love the prophet; and I am reckoning, before
long, to see and honour his tomb in the Holy City.’


Bonaparte turning Turk at Cairo for Interest, after swearing on the
Sacrement to support y^e Catholic Faith.]

It is not worth while to multiply instances. His policy led him to
conciliate the people, and, probably, his utterances were rather
more in accordance with their religious ideas than would have been
conformable in the mouth of a zealous Christian. But to the English
caricaturist and satirist they were _bonnes bouches_, and they twisted
and distorted them to suit their purposes. It became almost an article
of belief with the average Englishman, that Napoleon had embraced the
Mahometan religion. Were there not his own proclamations to prove it?
Gillray even depicted him as undergoing a ceremony of reception into
the Mahometan religion, surrounded as he is by Muftis, one of whom puts
a turban on his head, another sonorously reads from the Koran, whilst a
third brandishes a fearful knife for circumcision.



After the entry into Alexandria, Napoleon, by several proclamations,
imposed the strictest discipline upon his soldiers; and, although it
is possible some irregularities may have occurred on the part of the
troops, such scenes as were depicted by Cruikshank and Combe, one with
his pencil, the other with his pen, were simply impossible.

  He took the City by surprise,
  For he was always very wise,
  And with extreme amaze and dread,
  To mosques the people gladly fled.
  Regenerators yet annoy’d them,
  For they o’ertook and soon destroy’d them;
  And horrible indeed to tell,
  Both men and women quickly fell;
  Nay, even the infants at the breast!
  How sad the cries of the distrest!
  As _trophies_ of this _glorious_ fight,
  The spears held up the babes to sight;
  While this unparalleled ferocity
  Was call’d _amazing generosity_.

The _avowed_ object of Napoleon’s expedition was to punish the Beys,
of whom there were twenty-four, who kept up a force of some eight
thousand Mamelukes, splendid cavalry, recruited from slaves bought in
Georgia, the Caucasus, and even in Europe. The pretence against them
was injustice and oppression against French merchants; but the _real_
reason for it is in the proclamation dated on board the ‘Orient,’
of 4th Messidor, year VI.: ‘Soldiers, you are about to undertake
a conquest, the effects of which on civilisation and commerce are
incalculable. _The blow you are about to give to England, will be the
best aimed, and the most sensibly felt, she can receive, until the
time when you can give her her death blow._[40] ... The Destinies are
with us. The Mameluke Beys who favour exclusively English commerce,
whose extortions oppress our merchants, and who tyrannise over the
unfortunate inhabitants of the Nile, a few days after our arrival will
no longer exist.’

[Illustration: MASSACRE IN EGYPT.]

With what intensity Bonaparte hated England! For example, take this
little extract from Madame Junot,[41] to whose brother Napoleon was
speaking: ‘“England!” he then rejoined. “So you think in Paris that we
are going to attack it at last? The Parisians are not mistaken; it is
indeed to humble that saucy nation that we are arming. England! If my
voice has any influence, never shall England have an hour’s truce. Yes,
yes, war with England for ever, until its utter destruction.”’

Alexandria was taken and garrisoned; but this was only the commencement
of the campaign. Cairo must be reached speedily, and at all hazards.
Then came that terrible march across the desert, from the 7th to the
10th of July--with generals all but mutinous, with Lannes and Murat
dashing their cocked hats on the sands and trampling upon them in sight
of the soldiers; the burning sun, the scarcity of water, harassed by
enemies, human and insect--what joy could exceed theirs when they
reached the Nile at Rahmanié! That wild rush into the water, without
even thinking of the depth, and then the welcome shade and the juicy
melons in such abundance; it must have been a glimpse of heaven to
those poor half-maddened, half-starved soldiers.

After a brief rest they pushed on towards Cairo. On July 19 they
sighted the pyramids; on the 21st they had to encounter Mourad Bey,
who had a force of 8,000 Mamelukes, forty pieces of cannon, and
20,000 infantry Then was it that, pointing to those grand historical
monuments, Napoleon addressed his soldiers with the ever-memorable and
oft-quoted speech: ‘Soldiers! From the summit of those pyramids forty
centuries look down upon you.’

We know the issue of that battle--how, out of 8,000 Mamelukes that
proudly sat their steeds that morning, 6,000 bit the dust ere night.
The French that day drank deep of blood, for 10,000 of the Egyptian
troops lay dead on the field; they took 1,000 prisoners, and all their
artillery and baggage. They could make no further stand, and the way
to Cairo was open. A small force under Dupuy took possession of the
city, which they found almost deserted, and on July 24, the _Sultan
Kebir_, or _King of Fire_, as the natives had christened Napoleon, made
his formal entry into Cairo. A brief rest to tranquillise the place
and restore confidence to its returning inhabitants, and then, leaving
Desaix in charge of the city, Napoleon went in pursuit of Ibrahim Bey,
and drove him into Syria.

But what news was to welcome the conqueror back to Cairo? Sad indeed
was the tale he heard--nought less than the destruction and capture of
his whole fleet, save two ships, which effected their escape. Nelson
had made up for lost time, and on August 1 he fought the ‘Battle of the
Nile,’ when ‘L’Orient’ was blown up, and young Casabianca, the son of
the captain of the ship, with it. We all know the poem by Mrs. Hemans
commencing, ‘The boy stood on the burning deck.’

De Bourrienne does not disguise the effect this disaster had upon
Napoleon. He says: ‘The catastrophe of Aboukir came like a thunderbolt
upon the General-in-Chief. In spite of all his energy and fortitude,
he was deeply distressed by the disasters which now assailed him. To
the painful feelings excited by the complaints and dejection of his
companion-in-arms, was now added the irreparable misfortune of the
burning our fleet. He measured the fatal consequences of this event
at a single glance. We were now cut off from all communication with
France, and all hope of returning thither, except by a degrading
capitulation with an implacable and hated enemy. Bonaparte had lost all
chance of preserving his conquest, and to him this was indeed a bitter

But with what different feelings was the news received in England!
There was no steam, no electricity, then; men did not receive their
news red-hot as we do now, but had to wait for it, more or less calmly,
according to their temperament. Let us take this battle of the Nile
as an example. It was fought on August 1. On September 1 the ‘True
Briton’ (from which the following extracts are taken) gives its readers
an ‘Extract from a letter from Strasbourg, of the 20th August,’ in
which a circumstantial account of the total destruction and capture
of the French fleet by that of England is given, together with a
veracious statement that ‘the latter lost their Admiral Nelson, who,
nevertheless, two hours before he died of his wounds, received General
Buonaparte on board his ship (the ‘Culloden’) _Prisoner, with all his
General Staff_.’ This correspondent’s veracity is only equalled by his

On September 17 we hear of the sailing of the English fleet from
Syracuse in quest of her enemy. On September 21 we have a quotation
from the ‘Redacteur’ of September 14: ‘The same Letters inform us,
that the Squadron of Admiral Brueys had anchored on the coast of
_Bignieres_, and was preparing to return to France, when it was
attacked by the English Squadron, which was superior to ours, both in
the number and the size of the vessels; that on both sides the action
was maintained with a degree of obstinacy, of which History affords no
example; that during the action the Vessel of the French Admiral was
burnt; that two or three French Ships sunk; and that some others, both
French and English, ran aground after having lost all their Masts; and
that, finally, some other French ships, quite disabled, remained on the
spot where the Battle was fought.’



It was not till October 2 that a glimmer of the truth, through rather
a roundabout channel, appeared in the papers; and later on that day
appeared a ‘London Gazette extraordinary,’ with Nelson’s despatches,
which were very brief. Who can wonder at the excessive national
rejoicing? People were drunk with joy. Take a few paragraphs from the
‘Times’ of October 3:--

‘DRURY LANE.--After the play, the news of Admiral Nelson’s glorious
victory produced a burst of patriotic exultation that has been rarely
witnessed in a theatre. “Rule Britannia” was unanimously called for
from every part of the house, and Messrs. Kelly, Dignum, Sedgewick,
Miss Leak, and Mrs. Bland, came forward and sung it, accompanied by
numbers of the audience. It was called for, and sung, a second time.
The acclamations were the loudest and most fervent we have ever

‘The following lines, written for the occasion, were introduced by Mr.
Dignum and Mr. Sedgewick--

  Again the tributary Strain
  Of grateful Britons let us raise,
  And to the Heroes on the Main,
  Triumphant add a Nelson’s praise.

  Though the _Great Nation_ proudly boasts
  Herself invincible to be;
  Yet our brave NELSON still can prove
  BRITANNIA, Mistress of the Sea.

The audience were not satisfied with this repeated mark of exultation,
but in the effusion of enthusiastic loyalty, called for “God save the
King,” which was received with reiterated plaudits.’

‘Immediately that the news of the gallant victory obtained by Admiral
NELSON was known at Lloyd’s, a subscription was opened for the relief
of the widows and orphans of the brave men who perished in fighting for
their country.’[42]

‘Every man in this country may address Admiral NELSON with SHAKESPEARE,

  Horatio, thou art e’en as _brave_ a man
  As e’er my understanding cop’d withal.

The Capture of the French Fleet by NELSON, has reduced BUONAPARTE to
the situation of _Macbeth_,

  There is no going hence, nor tarrying here.’

‘A person last night, in the gallery of Drury Lane house, calling
frequently for the tune of BRITONS STRIKE HOME,[43] was immediately
silenced by the appropriate observation of another at some distance
from him, “Why, damn it, they have--have not they?”’

‘An affray happened last night opposite to the Admiralty, where the
crowd was very great. The mob, as usual, insisted on every person of
genteel appearance pulling off their hats; six Officers passing along,
were ordered to pay the same compliment to the mobility, and, refusing
to do so, the populace attempted to force their hats off. The Officers
drew their swords, and it was said that some persons were wounded.’

The next day’s ‘Times’ (October 4) says: ‘To shew the zeal for
Illumination in honour of our late splendid Victory, a chaise last
night passed through the town, in which were three Ladies, with large
cockades in their head dresses. The inside of the chaise was lighted
up; a postillion was on each horse with flambeaux in their hands,
besides two outriders, also carrying flambeaux.’

‘It was remarked by a loyal Hibernian, on the official news of Admiral
Nelson’s victory, that nothing on _earth_ could resist us by _sea_.’

The mob after a day or two became so uproarious that the magistrates
were compelled to order the cessation of the illuminations.

On October 3 the Court of Common Council met, two hundred strong, when
the Lord Mayor read the subjoined letter from Nelson--

          Vanguard, Mouth of the Nile:
            August 8th, 1798.

    My Lord,--Having the honour of being a freeman of the City of
    London, I take the liberty of sending to your Lordship the
    sword of the commanding French admiral, Monsieur Blanquet, who
    survived after the battle of the 1st, off the Nile, and request
    that the City of London will honour me with the acceptance of
    it, as a remembrance that Britannia still rules the waves;
    which that she may for ever do, is the fervent prayer of

        Your lordship’s
          Most obedient Servant
            HORATIO NELSON.

    Right hon. the Lord Mayor of London.

Naturally, this gratifying memorial of this splendid victory was
welcomed with enthusiasm, and orders were given to provide a suitable
case, with inscription, for it; and the Council voted Nelson a sword,
value 200 guineas; also the freedom of the City in a gold box, value
100 guineas, to Captain Berry, who was captain of the admiral’s
flagship, the ‘Vanguard;’ and the thanks of the court to every one

The caricaturists soon pounced upon the subject, and the way in which
the news of the victory was taken by different statesmen is very
amusingly shown. (Gillray, October 3, 1798.) Burdett, who is always
represented with his crop of hair combed over his eyes, is reading
the ‘Extraordinary Gazette,’ and, in astonishment, exclaims, ‘Sure I
cannot see clear?’ Jekyll is telling Lord Lansdowne how nine French
ships of war were captured and two burnt; but his lordship claps his
hands to his ears, and calls out, ‘I can’t hear, I can’t hear.’ The
Duke of Bedford will not believe it, and is tearing up the notification
of ‘the complete destruction of Buonaparte’s Fleet,’ exclaiming, ‘It’s
all a damn’d Lye;’ whilst poor Erskine, with Republican briefs before
him, drops the paper which tells him of the capture of Bonaparte’s
despatches, and, with a smelling-bottle to his nose, plaintively calls
out, ‘I shall faint, I, I, I.’ The poor Duke of Norfolk, whose many
empty bottles of port testify to his inebriate condition, is very
ill, and gives his opinion that ‘Nelson and the British Fleet’ is ‘a
sickening toast.’ Tierney is in despair, and with the ‘End of the Irish
Rebellion’ in his pocket, and on his knees a paper, ‘End of the French
Navy. Britannia rules the Waves,’ calls out, with upturned eyes, ‘Ah!
our hopes are all lost.’

Moodily, with his head resting on his hands, sits Sheridan, with a
‘List of the Republican Ships taken and destroyed’ before him, and his
thoughts are of prudence, ‘I must lock up my Jaw.’ Black-visaged Fox,
wearing a Cap of Liberty, has kicked over the stool that hitherto has
supported him, and mournfully bidding ‘Farewell to the Whig Club,’
says, ‘and I---- end with Éclat.’


This victory of the Nile is very graphically depicted (Gillray, October
6, 1798) in the ‘Extirpation of the Plagues of Egypt;--Destruction of
Revolutionary Crocodiles;--or--The British Hero cleansing y^e Mouth of
y^e Nile.’ Here Nelson has half-a-dozen crocodiles (typical of captured
French ships) hooked and in his power, whilst, with a stout cudgel of
‘British Oak,’ he is spreading deadly blows and consternation into a
quantity of tricoloured crocodiles. The blowing up of the ‘Orient’ is
shown by one crocodile which is thus being destroyed.

Another caricature (October 7, 1798) of the victory of the Nile is ‘The
Gallant Nellson bringing home two uncommon fierce French Crocodiles
from the Nile as a present to the King.’ The one-armed hero is
leading by a chain Fox and Sheridan, who have their jaws muzzled by
rings, and Fox’s mouth is also secured by a padlock, ‘a mouthpiece for
hypocrites.’ They are both weeping copiously, after the fabled manner
of crocodiles. Nelson is saying, ‘Come along you Hypocritical dogs, I
dare say your Dam’d sorry now for what you’ve done. No, no, I shall
bring you to my MASTER;’ whilst John Bull, habited as a countryman,
exclaims, ‘Aye, aye, what! Horatio has got ’em at _last_. Why, these
be the Old Cock Deviles. I thought as how he would not go so far for
nothing.’ This goes well with that of October 3.

A very curious caricature is (Ansell, October 24, 1798) Bonaparte in
Egypt, ‘A terrible Turk preparing a Mummy for a _present_ to the Grand
Nation.’ A Turk, terrible indeed, has Napoleon by the throat, and,
with sword in hand, is going to despatch him, saying, ‘As for you, you
Dog of no Religion, I’ll sacrifice you at the tomb of the Prophet,
whose name you have prophaned for the purposes of Murder, Rapine, and

Napoleon, whose defenceless state is typified by his swordless scabbard
being broken, is endeavouring to mollify the wrath of the Turk. ‘Now,
mild and gentle Sir, don’t be so rough: do you think I would cut your
throat, ravish your wives, or plunder your house? No, by Mahomet I
would not. Sacrè Dieu, I would not. Ah, Diable, you’ll choak me.’

Fox, Erskine, Sheridan, and the Duke of Norfolk are kneeling down,
begging for Napoleon’s life, whilst a Turk, who exclaims, ‘You agree
together so well, I think I’ll fix you together for life,’ has a
bowstring ready to strangle all four. Pleads Fox, ‘Pray don’t hurt our
dear friend, he would not hurt Man, Woman, or Child. He can’t bear the
sight of blood; as for plunder or deception, he is the determined
enemy to both, by ---- he is, and we are ready to swear it.’ Sheridan
and Erskine say--the one, ‘d--n me if he ayn’t, and we are ready to
swear it;’ the other, ‘I’ll swear it, I, I, I, swear it.’


‘John Bull taking a luncheon’ (Gillray, October 24, 1798) is an
extremely graphic caricature, and introduces us to the popular idea of
John Bull, who, certainly, is never represented in this period with
any of the refinement that Leech, Doyle, Tenniel, or any of our modern
caricaturists depict him; tastes and habits were coarser then than
now, and John Bull was always shown in the rough. The second portion
of the title of the picture helps us to realise the popular fancy,
‘or--British Cooks cramming old _Grumble Gizzard_ with Bonne Chére.’
All his admirals and captains are bringing him food. Nelson presents
him with a _Fricasee à la Nelson_, a huge dish of French ships; others
are bearing dishes, such as _Desert à la Warren_, _Fricando à la Howe_,
_à la Gardner_, _à la Bridport_, _à la Vincent_, _Dutch Cheese à la

John Bull is seated, devouring these viands, which are to be washed
down with mighty draughts of _True British Stout_, exclaiming, ‘What!
more Frigasees? why you sons o’ b----s, you, where do you think I
shall find room to stow all you bring in?’ Fox and Sheridan are seen
through an open window, running away, calling out, ‘Oh curse his Guts,
he’ll take a chop at us next.’

There is another one with similar _motif_ by Ansell, November 1, 1798.


The ‘destruction of the French Collossus’ (Gillray, November 1, 1798)
is a painful picture. The huge creation strides from Egypt to France;
its head being a skull, with vipers crawling in and out--its hands and
feet being imbrued in blood; it clutches the guillotine, and tramples
the Bible, Crucifix, and scales of Justice under foot. Round its neck
is the bleeding head of Louis XVI. Britannia (typified by a shield of
the national flag) hurls a thunderbolt, and shatters the huge statue
into pieces.


    AND CONSOLS IN 1798.

I have omitted an episode which, to be chronologically correct,
should have been introduced earlier; and here, as usual, we find a
French authority for what might seem an English slander: Émile de la
Bédoliére, in his ‘Tableau Chronologique de l’Histoire de Napoléon,’
gives the story of the revolt at Cairo very tersely:--

October 21.--‘During two months the Mussulmans patiently supported the
yoke of the conquerors; but the establishment of a registration of
landed property became the cause of a violent insurrection.

‘On the 30th Vendemaire, year VII. (October 21, 1798), a multitude ran
through the streets, and massacred all the French they met. Bonaparte
repaired to the scene, and took measures to cut the communications
between the different quarters of the city, which were in the hands
of the insurgents. Fifteen thousand of them took refuge in the great
mosque, and refused to surrender. A hail of bombs, shells, and
bullets, threatened to engulph them under the débris of their last
asylum. Soon they uttered lamentable cries, implored the mercy of the
general-in-chief, and surrendered at discretion.’

Combe thus versifies this event:--

  Mock liberty caus’d disaffection,
  And soon commenc’d an insurrection.
  According to our hero’s plan
  Of course a massacre began:
  The streets were clear’d, and all the men
  Ran to the mosques for refuge then.
  The troops, tho’, having forc’d the doors,
  Strew’d with combustibles the floors,
  And such indeed the conflagration,
  It was a grand illumination;
  With screams and groans the air was fill’d,
  For some were burn’d and some were kill’d--
  All indiscriminately slain,
  Who had for quarter begg’d in vain.
      At length our hero was inclin’d
  Tho’ somewhat slowly, to be kind;
  He granted quarter, and he trusted
  All would be quietly adjusted.
  He knew, which certainly was verified,
  They had sufficiently been terrified.

Cruikshank, of course, grossly exaggerates the fact, and represents the
French soldiery savagely attacking, even with pickaxes, the Egyptians
who are endeavouring to escape from the mosque.

In November (12th) of this year, Rowlandson produced a plate called
‘High fun for John Bull, or the Republicans put to their last shift.’
This represents him as being in great glee at having captured so many
ships, whilst the French are hard at work making fresh ones, which they
are baking by batches in a _Dutch Oven_ (an allusion to their being
built in Holland). A Frenchman, with a large trayful of ships, calls
out, ‘Sacre dieu, Citoyens, make a Haste wit one autre Fleet, den we
will shew you how to make one grande Invasion.’ Another, a Spaniard,
with a tray of cannon on his head, says, ‘How! That Nelson, wit one
Arm and Eye can take our Ships by Dozens, then vat shall we do against
the autres, wid two Arms and Eyes, dey will have two dozen at a time.’
A stolid Dutchman is baking a batch, grumbling the while, ‘Donder
and Blaxam to dis Fraternization; instead of smoaking mine Pipes and
sacking De Gold, dis French Broders make me build ships dat Mynheer Jan
Bull may have de Fun to take dem.’ Another Frenchman adds, ‘Well you
may talk, make haste, when dat English Nelson take our ships by the


John Bull, who holds a whip in his hand, says, ‘What! you could not
find that out before, you stupid Dupes; but since you began the fun,
you shall keep on. So work away, Damn ye, else Jack Tar will soon be
idle.’ A sailor carrying a trayful of ships on his head, calls out,
‘Push on, keep moving, I’ll soon come for another cargo. Old England
for ever. Huzza!’

‘Fighting for the Dunghill--or--Jack Tar settling Buonaparte,’ is by
Gillray, November 20, 1798. Napoleon is terribly punished, his body
being a mass of bruises and wounds, the worst being a large one in
the breast, and labelled _Nelson_. Blood is streaming from his nose,
and Jack is driving him out of the world altogether, having his foot
upon Malta, whilst Napoleon is insecure in Turkey. This engraving is
an extremely typical one of the burly, beef-fed Englishman, and the
‘skinny Frenchman,’ the ‘Johnny Crapaud’ of the time, any number of
whom an Englishman was supposed to be a match for--

  One skinny Frenchman, two Portugee,
  One jolly Englishman beat ’em all three.

Napoleon is depicted by Gillray (December 8, 1798) as being in a
fearful rage--and an extremely diverting sketch it is. It is called
‘Buonaparte hearing of Nelson’s Victory, swears by his sword to
extirpate the English from off the Earth. See Buonaparte’s Speech to
the French Army at Cairo, published by authority of the Directory in
Volney’s Letters.’ His melodramatic pose, and costume, are superb.
A huge cocked hat and feathers, the hat adorned with a crescent (to
show his supposed Mahometan proclivities), as well as a tricoloured
cockade, surmounts his head, which bears a most ferocious expression,
somewhat heightened by the formidable pigtail which he wears. A huge
green necktie is round his neck, and he wears a tricoloured scarf, in
which are stuck a pistol and dagger; boots, with huge spurs, add to
the dignity of the costume. He is waving his bloody sword, and stamps
upon a paper, ‘Nelson’s Victory over the Fleet of the Republic,’ while
he shouts out: ‘What? our Fleet captured and destroyed by the slaves
of Britain? by my sword and by holy Mahomet I swear eternal Vengeance!
yes, when I have subjected Egypt, subdued the Arabs, the Druses,
and the Maronites; become master of Syria; turn’d the great river
Euphrates, and sailed upon it through the sandy deserts; compelled to
my assistance the Bedouins, Turcomans, Kurds, Armenians, and Persians;
formed a million of cavalry, and pass’d them upon rafts, six or seven
hundred miles over the Bosphorus, I shall enter Constantinople. Now
I enter the Theatre of Europe, I establish the republic of Greece, I
raise Poland from its ruins, I make Prussia bend y^e knee to France, I
chain up y^e Russian bear, I cut the head from y^e Imperial Eagle, I
drive the ferocious English from the Archipelago, I hunt them from the
Mediterranean, and blot them out from the catalogue of Nations. Then
shall the conquer’d Earth sue for Peace, and an Obelisk be erected at
Constantinople, inscribed “To Buonaparte, conqueror of the World, and
extirpator of the ENGLISH NATION.”’

This brings the year 1798 to a close of the prosperity, or otherwise,
of which we may judge by the price of the quartern loaf, which averaged
8½_d._ for the year, and by the three per cent. Consols., which were
49-5/8 in January, and 52-5/8 in December; but in this, as in other
stocks, there was much fluctuation: for instance, in September Consols.
were 49-7/8; then came the news of the victory of the Nile, and up they
went to 56½, only, however, to fall to 50½. But they rose again in
November to 57-5/8, fell again to 52-1/8, and rose in December to 56.



The new year opens with a somewhat curious print by I. Cruikshank,
January 1, 1799, of the ‘Ghost of Buonaparte appearing to the
Directory.’ The latter are in fearful dismay at the apparition, which,
attired in the airiest of costume, shakes his notched sword at them,
saying, ‘Regicides, Parricides, Matricides, and Patricides, this
is the effect of your insatiable thirst for Conquest; this is your
reward for my glorious Achievements in Italy, Germany, &c.--to die by
the hand of an Assassin, a d--d Mussulman: and all my Brave Legions
Destroyed by Water melons and the Arabs. Go, Murderers in cold blood,
may your conscious guilt ever prey upon your vitals, and may the name
of _Nelson_ ever haunt you, sleeping and waking’! What is meant by
his dying ‘by the hand of an Assassin,’ I do not know; but probably
some rumour was afloat to that effect, as Barre observes: ‘Whilst
Buonaparte and his army were thus cut off from Europe, the most absurd
reports were spread (no doubt by the partisans of the artful Corsican)
representing him as a victim of the Directory, who had thought proper
to remove so great, famous, and fortunate a general.

‘They pretended that the Directory, unable to repay the signal services
of Buonaparte, and, fearing, at the same time, his popularity, had
contrived, with Talleyrand, to flatter the ambitious vanity of
that young conqueror with an expedition, which would raise his fame
above the glory acquired by Alexander, or Cæsar. They added, that,
as Buonaparte was sure of being director at the next election, the
Directory had resolved to put him out of the way, by sacrificing him
and his army; having even directed that the fleet should be exposed to
certain destruction, in order that no possibility could exist of his

The ‘Times’ of January 2, 1799, has the subjoined:--

    The following Epigram has been handed about in Paris. The
    French points are all that can be remembered by the Gentleman
    who has put it in an English dress.

  ‘France, to get rid of Turbulence,
  Sends her best Soldiers far from hence,
      With promises, and wishes, hearty;
  Pleas’d and content that what so e’er
  May happen either here or there,
      To hazard all _in Bonâ-parte_.

  ‘And still, though rous’d by home alarms,
  Nay, threatened by the world in arms,
      France holds her head up bold and hearty--
  Since now each Directorial Elf,
  By losing _Bonaparte’s_ self
      Enjoys the loss _in Bonâ-parte_.’

Meanwhile Napoleon was taking things pretty easily in Egypt, enjoying
himself after his manner. It is a marvel that none of the English
caricaturists ever depicted this portion of his life. True, Gillray,
as we have seen, drew him in Turkish costume; but he never wore it but
once, and then but for a very short time. But why did they spare him
in his _amour_ with Madame Fourés (Pauline, or _Queen of the East_, as
the army christened her)? De Bourrienne makes no secret of it. He says:
‘About the middle of September in this year (1798), Buonaparte ordered
to be brought to the house of Elfy Bey, half a dozen Asiatic women,
whose beauty he had heard highly extolled. However, their ungraceful
obesity displeased him, and they were immediately dismissed. A few
days after, he fell violently in love with Madame Fourés,[44] the wife
of a lieutenant of Infantry. She was very pretty, and her charms were
enhanced by the rarity of seeing a woman, in Egypt, who was calculated
to please the eye of a European. Bonaparte engaged, for her, a house
adjoining the palace of Elfy Bey, which he occupied. He frequently
ordered dinner to be prepared there, and I used to go there with him at
seven o’clock, and leave him at nine.

‘This connection soon became the general subject of gossip at
head-quarters. Through a feeling of delicacy to M. Fourés, the
General in Chief gave him a mission to the Directory. He embarked
at Alexandria, and the ship was captured by the English, who, being
informed of the Cause of his mission, were malicious enough to send him
back to Egypt, instead of keeping him prisoner.’

But he was not one to waste much time in dalliance. Turkey was not
at all satisfied with the occupation of Egypt, and two armies were
assembled, one in Syria, and one at Rhodes; the former of which had
already pushed forward into Egyptian territory as far as El-Arisch, and
also a train of artillery had been placed at Jaffa (the ancient Joppa).
The commander of this _corps d’armée_ (Achmet Pacha) had earned the
unenviable title of _Djezzar_, or _the Butcher_. Napoleon, very early
in the year 1799, marched against him, his busy brain having schemed
the plan of crushing these Turkish troops, a demonstration against
Constantinople itself, a forced peace with the Porte, and then hey!
for India. To pave the way for this latter he actually wrote to Tippoo
Sahib, saying he was coming to deliver him from the English yoke, and
requesting his answer, which he might possibly have received, had not
Tippoo been killed on May 4 of that year.

Napoleon, by way of conciliating the Egyptians, assisted at the
celebration of ‘Ramadan,’ with great pomp, which, naturally, would
afford his detractors another opportunity for outcry at his Mahometan
proclivities. As soon as it was over, he set out against Achmet Pacha,
and, on February 17, El-Arisch capitulated, and the army marched to
Gaza. How the vanguard lost their way, and their terrible sufferings
in the desert, it boots not to tell. Gaza was taken, its stores were
confiscated, and then Jaffa was their bourne, which was reached, and
invested, on March 4.

Before reading the sad page of history which Jaffa gives us, let us
glance at one or two caricatures which appeared in England about this
time. Napoleon had taken with him, in his expedition to Egypt, Denon
and divers other learned men to investigate the archæology of the
country, &c., and most valuable were the services of ‘the Institute,’
as this body of _savants_ was called. They furnished some fun to the
army, and the cry, when any danger threatened, of ‘the Asses and the
_Savants_ to the centre,’ was naturally productive of mirth; the army
also christening the asses ‘_Demi-savants_.’

Gillray makes great fun of the expedition to Egypt, and satirises the
French soldiers unmercifully; nor do the poor _savants_ who accompanied
the army fare any better. A good example is the ‘Siege de la Colonne
de Pompée, or Science in the Pillory,’ published March 6, 1799. At
the foot of the picture is: ‘It appears by an intercepted letter from
General Kleber, dated Alexandria, 5 brumaire, 7th year of the Republic,
that when the garrison was obliged to retire into the New Town, at the
approach of the Turkish Army, under the Pacha of Rhodes, a party of the
_sçavans_, who had ascended Pompey’s Pillar for scientific purposes,
was cut off by a Band of Bedouin Arabs, who, having made a large Pile
of Straw, and dry Reeds, at the foot of the Pillar, set fire to it, and
rendered unavailing the gallant defence of the learned Garrison, of
whose Catastrophe the above design is intended to convey an idea.

  ‘To study Alexandria’s store
  Of Science, Amru deem’d a bore
    And briefly set it burning.
  The Man was ignorant, ’tis true,
  So sought one comprehensive view
    Of the light shed by learning.
  Your modern Arabs grown more wise,
  French vagrant Science duly prize;
    They’ve fairly bit the biters.
  They’ve learnt the style of Hebert’s Jokes,
  Amru to books confined his Hoax;
    These Bedouins roast the writers.’

The _savants_ are, indeed, in a parlous state, on the broad summit
of the pillar, exposed to fire from below, and the guns and pistols
of the Arabs; they defend themselves as well as possible by hurling
their globes, and scientific instruments, at their assailants, who are
exceedingly astonished at them. A balloon, La Diligence d’Abyssinie, is
fired at, and struck, the aeronauts, one of whom has a parachute, being
precipitated to the ground.

‘The Institute,’ which was modelled on that of Paris, also gave scope
to Gillray’s facile pencil, and he published a series of half a dozen
plates, in the first one of which it was most amusingly caricatured.
It was published on March 12, 1799, and called, ‘L’Insurrection de
l’Institut Amphibie--The pursuit of Knowledge.’ A _savant_ is depicted
as studying a work ‘Sur l’Education du Crocodile,’ some plates
from which have dropped out. They show how useful the crocodile may
become, by training, to tow vessels, and to ride and drive on land.
He evidently is intending to put his theories into practice, for he
has brought with him, to the river’s side, a saddle, a fearfully cruel
bridle, and a huge whip, when he is seized by an enormous saurian, and
devoured. Another learned man, who has been reading ‘Les Droits du
Crocodile,’ drops it, when he finds one of these creatures asserting
its rights by seizing his coat-tails.



It is sad to turn from this rollicking fun to the episode of Jaffa; but
it cannot be dismissed, as it has afforded so much employment to the
detractors of Napoleon, and to the English satirists of the time. First
of all, let us give the version of an eye-witness (De Bourrienne),
friend of, and secretary to, Napoleon. It is rather long, but no word
of it can be omitted, as it gives every argument that can be brought
forward to palliate the sickening massacre.

‘On the 4th of March we commenced the siege of Jaffa. That paltry
place, which, to round a sentence, was pompously styled the ancient
Joppa, held out only to the 6th of March, when it was taken by storm,
and given up to pillage. The massacre was horrible. General Bonaparte
sent his aides de camp, Beauharnais and Croisier, to appease the fury
of the soldiers as much as possible, to observe what was passing, and
to report to him. They learnt that a considerable part of the garrison
had retired into some vast buildings, a sort of caravanserais, which
formed a large enclosed court. Beauharnais and Croisier, who were
distinguished by wearing the aide de camp scarf on the arm, proceeded
to that place.

‘The Arnauts and Albanians, of whom these refugees were almost
entirely composed, cried, from the windows, that they were willing
to surrender, upon an assurance that they would be exempted from the
massacre to which the town was doomed; if not, they threatened to fire
on the aides de camp, and to defend themselves to the last extremity.
The two officers thought that they ought to accede to the proposition,
notwithstanding the decree of death which had been pronounced against
the whole garrison, in consequence of the town being taken by storm.
They brought them to our camp in two divisions, one consisting of about
two thousand five hundred men, the other of about fifteen hundred.

‘I was walking with General Bonaparte, in front of his tent, when he
saw this multitude of men approaching, and, before he even saw his
aides de camp, he said to me in a tone of profound sorrow, “What do
they wish me to do with these men? Have I food for them? ships to
convey them to Egypt or France? Why, in the Devil’s name, have they
served me thus?” After their arrival, and the explanations which the
General in Chief demanded, and listened to with anger, Eugene and
Croisier received the most severe reprimand for their conduct.

‘But the deed was done. Four thousand men were there. It was necessary
to decide upon their fate. The two aides de camp observed, that they
had found themselves alone in the midst of numerous enemies, and that
he had directed them to restrain the carnage. “Yes, doubtless,” replied
the General in Chief, with great warmth, “as to women, children, and
old men--all the peaceable inhabitants; but not with respect to armed
soldiers. It was your duty to die, rather than bring these unfortunate
creatures to me. What do you want me to do with them?” These words were
pronounced in the most angry tone.

‘The prisoners were then ordered to sit down, and were placed, without
any order, in front of the tents, their hands tied behind their backs.
A sombre fury was depicted in their countenances. We gave them a little
biscuit and bread, squeezed out of the already scanty supply for the

‘On the first day of their arrival, a council of war was held in the
tent of the General in Chief, to determine what course should be
pursued with respect to them. The Council deliberated a long time
without coming to any decision.

‘On the evening of the following day, the daily reports of the generals
of division came in. They spoke of nothing but the insufficiency
of the rations, the complaints of the soldiers--of their murmurs
and discontent at seeing their bread given to enemies, who had been
withdrawn from their vengeance, inasmuch as a decree of death, in
conformity with the laws of war, had been passed on Jaffa. All these
reports were alarming, and especially that of General Bon, in which no
reserve was made. He spoke of nothing less than the fear of revolt,
which would be justified by the serious nature of the case.

‘The Council assembled again. All the generals of division were
summoned to attend, and, for several hours together, they discussed,
under separate questions, what measures might be adopted, with the most
sincere desire to discover and execute one which would save the lives
of these unfortunate prisoners.

‘Should they be sent to Egypt? could it be done?

‘To do so, it would be necessary to send with them a numerous escort,
which would too much weaken our little army in the enemy’s country.
How, besides, could they and the escort be supported till they reached
Cairo, having no provisions to give them on setting out, and, their
route being through a hostile territory, which we had exhausted, which
presented no fresh resources, and through which we, perhaps, might have
to return?

‘Should they be embarked?

‘Where were the ships? where could they be found? All our optical
instruments, directed over the sea, could not descry a single friendly
sail. Bonaparte, I affirm, would have regarded such an event as a real
favour of fortune. It was, and I am glad to have to say it, this sole
idea, this sole hope, which made him brave, for three days, the murmurs
of his army. But in vain was help looked for, seawards--It did not come.

‘Should the prisoners be set at liberty?

‘They would then proceed to St. Jean d’Acre to reinforce the Pacha,
or else, throwing themselves into the mountains of Naplouse, would
greatly annoy our rear and right flank, and deal out death to us, as
a recompense for the life we had given them. There could be no doubt
of this. What is a Christian dog to a Turk? It would even have been a
religious and meritorious act in the eyes of the Prophet.

‘Could they be incorporated, disarmed, with our soldiers in the ranks?

‘Here again the question of food presented itself in all its force.
Next came to be considered the danger of having such comrades, while
marching through an enemy’s country. What might happen in the event of
a battle before St. Jean d’Acre? Could we even tell what might occur
during the march? and--finally--what must be done with them when under
the ramparts of that town, if we should be able to take them there? The
same embarrassments with respect to the questions of provisions, and
security, would then recur with increased force.

‘The third day arrived without its being possible, anxiously as it was
desired, to come to any conclusion favourable to the preservation of
these unfortunate men. The murmurs in the camp grew louder--the evil
went on increasing--remedy appeared impossible--danger was real and

‘The order for shooting the prisoners was given and executed on the
10th of March. We did not, as has been stated, separate the Egyptians
from the other prisoners. There were no Egyptians.

‘Many of the unfortunate creatures composing the smaller division,
which was fired on close to the sea-coast, at some distance from the
other column, succeeded in swimming to some reefs of rocks out of the
reach of musket shot. The soldiers rested their muskets on the sand,
and, to induce the prisoners to return, employed the Egyptian signs of
reconciliation, in use in that country. They came back; but, as they
advanced, they were killed, and disappeared among the waves.’

Thus far De Bourrienne. Now let us hear what Napoleon himself says of
the matter.[45] ‘He spoke about the measures which he had caused to be
taken at Jaffa. “After the assault,” said he, “it was impossible to
restore any kind of discipline until night. The infuriated soldiers
rushed into the streets in search of women. You know what kind of
people the Turks are. A few of them kept up a fire in the streets. The
soldiers, who desired nothing more, whenever a shot was discharged,
cried out that they were fired upon from certain houses, which they
immediately broke open, and violated all the women they found.”

‘I replied[46] that Miot ... positively asserted that he (Napoleon)
had caused between three and four thousand Turks to be shot, some days
after the capture of Jaffa. Napoleon answered: “It is not true that
there were so many. I ordered about a thousand or twelve hundred to
be shot, which was done. The reason was, that amongst the garrison of
Jaffa, a number of Turkish troops were discovered, whom I had taken a
short time before at El-Arish, and sent to Bagdat upon their parole not
to serve again, or to be found in arms against me for a year. I had
caused them to be escorted twelve leagues on their way to Bagdat, by a
division of my army. But those Turks, instead of proceeding to Bagdat,
threw themselves into Jaffa, defended it to the last, and cost me a
number of brave men to take it, whose lives would have been spared, if
the others had not reinforced the garrison of Jaffa. Moreover, before I
attacked the town, I sent them a flag of truce. Immediately afterwards
we saw the head of the bearer elevated on a pole over the wall. Now,
if I had spared them again, and sent them away upon their parole,
they would directly have gone to St. Jean d’Acre, where they would
have played over again the same scene that they had done at Jaffa. In
justice to the lives of my soldiers, as every general ought to consider
himself as their father, and them as his children, I could not allow

‘“To leave as a guard a portion of my army, already small and reduced
in number, in consequence of the breach of faith of those wretches,
was impossible. Indeed, to have acted otherwise than I did, would
probably have caused the destruction of my whole army. I, therefore,
availing myself of the rights of war, which authorise the putting to
death prisoners taken under such circumstances, independent of the
right given to me by having taken the city by assault, and that of
retaliation on the Turks, ordered that the prisoners taken at El-Arish,
who, in defiance of their capitulation, had been found bearing arms
against me, should be selected out and shot. The rest, amounting to
a considerable number, were spared. I would,” continued he, “do the
same thing again to-morrow, and so would Wellington, or any general
commanding an army under similar circumstances!”’

Between these two partial accounts there are grave discrepancies--both
parties trying, as far as possible, to excuse the deed; but, if De
Bourrienne can be relied on, his account of the cold-blooded massacre
must be the true one, for he says, ‘I confine myself to those details
of this act of dreadful necessity of which I was an eye-witness.’



It is a singular thing, that, even in the very meagre accounts, of
transactions in Egypt no mention of this should have got into the
English newspapers; but I have searched, and can find none. But when,
in 1803, this country was in fear of invasion, it was brought up,
and used with great effect, in stimulating patriotism. Take, as an
instance, one[47] out of the thousands of broadsides which then flooded
the country, and we shall find that the fact, although broadly stated,
has not been exaggerated.

‘On the 7th that town was taken by assault. This affair is on all hands
allowed to have been bloody in the extreme; but a tale has been brought
to light, and attested by persons of undoubted credit, so bloody, so
diabolical, as to outstrip everything which such an expression is
calculated to describe.

‘It is asserted that three days after the capture of the town, three
thousand eight hundred prisoners were marched to a rising ground, and
there massacred by means of musquetry, grape shot, and the bayonet.
This fact was first made known in Europe by Sir Sidney Smith, and Mr.
Morier, Secretary to Lord Elgin, now a prisoner in Paris; its history
has been minutely given by Colonel Sir Robert Wilson, of Hompesch’s
hussars, and its truth has been attested by Dr. Wittman who accompanied
the army of the Grand Vizir.’

This Dr. Wittman was the physician to the British Military Mission,
which went with that army through Turkey, Syria, and Egypt, and who
wrote a narrative of his travels, in which, at p. 128, he says the
unfortunates were dragged ‘to the sand hills, about a league distant,
in the way to Gaza, and there most inhumanly put to death. I have seen
_the Skeletons of those unfortunate victims_, which lie scattered over
the hills; a modern Golgotha, which remains a lasting disgrace to a
Nation calling itself civilised.’

Sir Robert Wilson says: ‘Vollies of musquetry and grape instantly
played against them; and Buonaparte, who had been regarding the scene
through a telescope, when he saw the smoke ascending, could not
restrain his joy, but broke out into exclamations of approval; indeed,
he had just reason to dread the refusal of his troops thus to dishonour
themselves. Kleber had remonstrated in the most strenuous manner,
and the officer of the Etat-Major, who commanded (for the general to
whom the division belonged, was absent) even refused to execute the
order without a written instruction; but Buonaparte was too cautious,
and sent Berthier to enforce obedience.... The bones still lie in
heaps, and are shown to every traveller who arrives; nor can they be
confounded with those who perished in the assault, since this field of
butchery lies a mile from the town.’

Combe, of course, does not forget this incident.

  Another bloody work ensued
  Which the brave Nap with rapture view’d--
  He near four thousand prisoners had,
  The number almost drove him mad;
  Because so many men to feed,
  Required a deal of food indeed.
  He chid his troops for being so good,
  And said such mercy was of no good.
  Resolv’d to get rid of his burthen,
  (Tho’ Kleber ventur’d to demur then,)
  He bade his troops the men surround,
  And march them to a rising ground;
  The soldiers did as he directed,
  And they by Boney were inspected;
  It seems our hero was inclin’d
  If _’twas his interest_, to be kind;
  Now Nap, among these Captives rude,
  An aged Janizary view’d;
  And, with a contumacious sneer,
  Said he ‘Old man, what brought you here!’
  The Janizary, no way frighten’d,
  Although unconscious how it might end,
  Replied ‘That question soon I can, Sir,
  By asking you a like one, answer,
  To serve your Sultan, you’ll rejoin--
  And the same answer now is mine.’
  This frankness all around delighted,
  And admiration, too, excited.
  Behold--our very hero smiled,
  As if he had been reconciled.
  That smile, some whispered, is a gracious one,
  This guess was not, tho’, a sagacious one;
  The Janizary was not spared,
  His fellow-prisoners’ fate he shared;
  But previously brave Nap withdrew,
  And at a distance had a view;
  The signal given--none dared to stop--
  The musquetry went pop--pop--pop.
  Nap thro’ his spy glass marked the fun,
  And cried out ‘bravo’ when ’twas done--
  His soldiers, who the dead surrounded,
  Humanely stabbed and killed the wounded.

Napoleon now turned his attention to the siege of St. Jean d’Acre,
where the garrison had the advantage of European aid, besides
which, Sir Sydney Smith cruised about the fort, and Napoleon’s
battering-train, which had been captured, was duly pointed at the
besiegers. He was, besides, called off to help Kleber, who was in
an awkward situation at Mount Thabor, and had been fighting Achmet
Pasha, who had a considerably superior force, from six in the morning
till one in the afternoon. Not one moment too soon did Napoleon make
his appearance; but he turned the tide of battle, and the Turks were
defeated with the loss of 5,000 or 6,000 men, and all their stores, &c.

Back they went to St. Jean d’Acre, and did their best at the siege; but
it was not to be. Reinforcements were thrown into the town, Napoleon’s
army grew smaller, provisions got scarcer, the plague was in their
midst; so, sending his sick and wounded to Jaffa, he raised the siege
and began to retreat on May 20.

O’Meara tells us Napoleon’s version of the causes which led to
this.[48] ‘“The chief cause of the failure there was that Sir Sydney
Smith took all my battering-train, which was on board of several small
vessels. Had it not been for that, I would have taken Acre in spite of
him. He behaved very bravely, and was well seconded by Phillipeaux, a
Frenchman of talent, who had studied with me as an engineer.... The
acquisition of five or six hundred seamen as cannoniers, was a great
advantage to the Turks, whose spirits they revived, and whom they
showed how to defend the fortress.

‘“But he committed a great fault in making sorties, which cost the
lives of two or three hundred brave fellows, without the possibility
of success. For it was impossible he could succeed against the number
of the French who were before Acre. I would lay a wager, he lost
half of his crew in them. He dispersed proclamations among my troops
which certainly shook some of them, and I, in consequence, published
an order, stating that he was _mad_, and forbidding all communication
with him. Some days after, he sent, by means of a flag of truce, a
lieutenant, or a midshipman, with a letter containing a challenge to
me, to meet him at some place he pointed out, in order to fight a duel.
I laughed at this, and sent him back an intimation that when he brought
Marlborough to fight me I would meet him. Notwithstanding this, I like
the character of the man.”’

The French reached Jaffa on May 24, and found the hospitals full of
wounded and those sick of the plague. Compelled still to retreat, it
was necessary to remove the sick; and, to encourage his soldiers in the
task, and to show them how little was the risk, Napoleon is said to
have handled several of the infected.



But this retreat became the subject of a dreadful accusation against
Napoleon, which must have hit him hard at the time of his projected
invasion in 1803--aye, quite as hard as the massacre at Jaffa. It
was nothing less than that he poisoned, with opium, 500 of his sick
soldiers, before he left Jaffa. There was a solid foundation for this
fearful charge, as will be shown hereafter. Combe speaks of it thus--

  Another great thing Boney now did,
  With sick the hospitals were crowded,
  He therefore planned, nor planned in vain,
  To put the wretches out of pain;
  He an apothecary found--
  For a physician, since renown’d,
  The butchering task with scorn declined,
  Th’ apothecary, tho’, was _kind_.
  It seems that Romeo met with such a one,
  This is a mournful theme to touch upon,
  Opium was put in pleasant food,
  The wretched victims thought it good;
  But, in a few hours, as they say,
  About six hundred, breathless lay.

The truth of this has never been accurately established, but I fancy,
at that time, there were very few Englishmen who did not thoroughly
believe it. Sir Robert Wilson wrote: ‘Buonaparte finding that his
hospitals at Jaffa were crowded with sick, sent for a physician,
whose name should be inscribed in letters of gold, but which, from
important reasons, cannot be here inserted; on his arrival, he entered
into a long conversation with him respecting the danger of contagion,
concluding at last with the remark, that something must be done to
remedy the evil, and that the destruction of the sick at present in the
hospital, was the only measure which could be adopted. The physician,
alarmed at the proposal, bold in the confidence of virtue, and the
cause of humanity, remonstrated vehemently, respecting the cruelty, as
well as the atrocity, of such a murder; but, finding that Buonaparte
persevered and menaced, he indignantly left the tent, with this
memorable observation; “Neither my principles, nor the character of my
profession, will allow me to become a murderer; and, General, if such
qualities as you insinuate are necessary to form a great man, I thank
my God that I do not possess them.”


‘Buonaparte was not to be diverted from his object by moral
considerations; he persevered, and found an apothecary, who (dreading
the weight of power, but who since has made an atonement to his mind,
by unequivocally confessing the fact) consented to become his agent,
and to administer poison to the sick. Opium, at night, was distributed
in gratifying food, the wretched, unsuspecting, victims banqueted, and,
in a few hours, five hundred and eighty soldiers, who had suffered so
much for their country, perished thus miserably by the order of its

‘If a doubt should still exist as to the veracity of this statement,
let the Members of the Institute at Cairo be asked what passed in
their sitting after the return of Buonaparte from Syria; they will
relate, that the same virtuous physician, who refused to become the
destroyer of those committed to his protection, accused Buonaparte of
high treason, in the full assembly, against the honour of France, her
children, and humanity; that he entered into the full details of the
poisoning of the sick, and the massacre of the garrison, aggravating
these crimes by charging Buonaparte with strangling, previously, at
Rosetta, a number of French and Copts, who were ill of the plague;
thus proving that this disposal of his sick was a premeditated plan,
which he wished to introduce into general practice. In vain Buonaparte
attempted to justify himself; the members sat petrified with terror,
and almost doubted whether the scene passing before their eyes was not
an illusion.’

Dr. Wittman assures his readers that whilst he was in Egypt with the
army, a man was pointed out to them as having been the executioner of
Napoleon’s commands to poison the sick and wounded French soldiers in
the hospitals of Jaffa.

Barre says: ‘Although neither Sir Robert Wilson nor Dr. Wittman mention
the name of the worthy physician who refused with horror, and of the
infamous wretch, who basely consented to become the executioner of the
sick soldiers, it is now well known that the former was the worthy
physician Dr. Desgenettes, and the latter, one Rouyer, an infamous
apothecary, who thus became the murderer of his own countrymen, in
compliance with the wishes of a Corsican assassin.’

In a little periodical, called ‘Ring the Alarum Bell!’ (which only
ran four numbers), published in 1803, is the following, written by
a General Danican: ‘In 1801, I met at a lazaretto in Sicily, with a
number of French Soldiers just come from Alexandria. With one of them
I contracted habits of intimacy during my stay, and who frequently
related to me some curious particulars of the conduct of Buonaparté
in Egypt.... Having been witness to the poisoning scene at Caiffa
he related to me the following anecdote. A grenadier, who had lost
two brothers, was amongst the unfortunate wretches slightly affected
with the pestilential disease. From what he had previously observed
in the hospital, he had become more suspicious than his companions
in distress, and he had scarcely taken the _Corsican physic_, than
he immediately discharged it, made his way out of the hospital, and
escaping the guard, whom he contrived to knock down, he gained the
column under the command of Kleber, at whose feet he threw himself,
and, in the intercession, almost of despair, conjured him to let him
mount one of the camels, describing what he had escaped from, and
venting the most energetic maledictions on the _Poisoner in Chief_. The
poor wretch, in the most piteous manner, assured General Kleber that he
would keep at a distance from the army, so that no one should be in any
danger of catching his disorder, except the camel. Kleber granted his
request; the grenadier was saved and recovered, and was alive when the
English landed under the brave Abercrombie.’

Now let us hear the Emperor’s side of the question, beginning with De
Bourrienne. ‘Orders were given directly to undermine the fortifications
and blow them up; and, on the 27th May, upon the signal being given,
the town was in a moment laid bare. An hour afterwards, the General in
Chief left his tent and repaired to the town, accompanied by Berthier,
some physicians and surgeons, and his usual staff. I was also one of
the party. A long and sad deliberation took place on the question,
which now arose, relative to the men who were incurably ill of the
plague, or were at the point of death. After a discussion of the most
serious and conscientious kind, it was decided to accelerate a few
moments, by a potion, a death which was inevitable, and which otherwise
would be painful and cruel....

‘I cannot say that I saw the potion administered. I should state an
untruth if I did. I cannot name any person concerned in the matter,
without hazarding a misrepresentation. But I well know that the
decision was come to after that deliberation, which was due to so
important a measure; that the order was given, and that the infected
are dead. What! shall that which formed the subject of the whole
conversation of the head quarters, on the day after leaving Jaffa, and
was spoken of without any question of its reality; which was regarded
by us as a dreadful, but unavoidable, misfortune; which was never
mentioned in the army but as a fact, of which there was no doubt,
and only the details of which were inquired after--I appeal to every
honourable man who was present, for the truth of what I state--shall
that, I say, be now stigmatized as a malignant calumny, fabricated to
injure the reputation of a hero, who, were this the only reproach that
might be addressed to him, would go down with little blemish on his
character, to posterity?’

Las Cases is specially wroth with Sir Robert Wilson, but, even he,
cannot successfully whitewash his beloved emperor. His attempted
vindication is too long to be reproduced _in extenso_, but it goes
to prove how widely spread in the army was the belief that the sick
were hurried to their rest at Jaffa. ‘A circumstance, which will not a
little surprise those who have yet to learn how little credit is due to
public report, and which will serve to show the errors that may creep
into history, is that Marshall Bertrand, who was himself with the army
in Egypt, (though certainly in a rank which did not enable him to come
into immediate contact with the General in Chief) firmly believed, up
to the period of his residence at Saint Helena, the story of poison
having been administered to sixty invalids. The report was circulated,
and believed, even in our army; therefore, what answer could be given
to those who triumphantly asserted, “It is a fact, I assure you, I
have it from officers who served in the French army at the time.”
Nevertheless, the whole story is false. I have collected the following
facts from the highest source, from the mouth of Napoleon himself.

‘1st. That the invalids in question who were infected with the plague,
amounted, according to the report made to the General in Chief, only to
_seven_ in number.

‘2nd. That it was not the General in Chief, but a professional man,
who, at the moment of the crisis, proposed the administering of opium.

‘3rd. That opium was not administered to a single individual.

‘4th. That the retreat having been effected slowly, a rear-guard was
left behind in Jaffa for three days.

‘5th. That on the departure of the rear guard, the invalids were all
dead, except one or two, who must have fallen into the hands of the

But Las Cases, in his zeal, tries to prove too much; for, in a
later passage, he says, that since his return to Paris he has had
opportunities of conversing with those whose situation and profession
naturally rendered them the first actors on the scene, and he finds
‘that no order was given for the administering of opium to the sick,’
and ‘That there was not at the period in question, in the medicine
chest of the army, a single grain of opium for the use of the sick.’ So
he admits that the emperor had the proposition made to him, by a man
who must have known he had not the means to carry it out.

Is Barry O’Meara to be trusted? Let us hear what his testimony is (also
professedly from the emperor’s own lips). ‘“Previously to leaving
Jaffa,” continued Napoleon, “and after the greatest number of the
sick and wounded had been embarked, it was reported to me that there
were some men in the hospital so dangerously ill, as not to be able
to be moved. I ordered, immediately, the chiefs of the medical staff
to consult together upon what was best to be done, and to give me
their opinion on the subject. Accordingly they met, and found there
were seven or eight men so dangerously ill, that they conceived it
impossible to recover, and also that they could not exist twenty-four
or thirty-six hours longer; that, moreover, being afflicted with the
plague, they would spread that complaint amongst all who approached
them. Some of them, who were sensible, perceiving they were about to
be abandoned, demanded with earnest entreaties, to be put to death.
Larrey was of opinion that recovery was impossible, and that those
poor fellows could not exist many hours; but as they might live long
enough to be alive when the Turks entered, and experience the dreadful
torments which they were accustomed to inflict upon their prisoners, he
thought it would be an act of charity to comply with their desires, and
accelerate their end by a few hours. Desgenettes did not approve of
this, and replied, that his profession was to cure the sick, and not to
despatch them.

‘“Larrey came to me immediately afterwards, informed me of the
circumstances, and of what Desgenettes had said; adding, that perhaps
Desgenettes was right. ‘But,’ continued Larrey, ‘those men cannot live
more than a few hours, twenty-four, or thirty-six at most; and, if
you will leave a rear-guard of cavalry to stay and protect them from
advanced parties, it will be sufficient.’ Accordingly I ordered four or
five hundred cavalry to remain behind, and not to quit the place until
all were dead. They did remain, and informed me that all had expired
before they had left the town; but I have heard since, that Sydney
Smith found one or two alive when he entered it. This is the truth of
the business....

‘“You have been amongst the Turks, and know what they are; I ask you
now, to place yourself in the situation of one of those sick men, and
that you were asked which you would prefer, to be left to suffer the
tortures of those miscreants, or to have opium administered to you?”
I replied, “Most undoubtedly I would prefer the latter.” “Certainly,
so would any man,” answered Napoleon; “if my _own son_ (and I believe
I love my son as well as any father does his child) were in a similar
situation with those men, I would advise it to be done; and, if so
situated myself, I would insist upon it, if I had sense enough, and
strength enough to demand it....

‘“If I had thought such a measure, as that of giving opium, necessary,
I would have called a council of war, have stated the necessity of it,
and have published it in the order of the day.” He afterwards goes on
to say that if he had done so, some of his soldiers would have been
sure to have shot him.’

I have gone thus at length into these occurrences at Jaffa, to show
how widely spread was the belief in them, and also to prove that these
scandals were not of British origin. Whatever amount of truth there may
be in them, readers must judge, as I have laid both sides fairly before
them. That there was foundation for them, there can be no doubt--but we
know that a tale does not lose in telling.

The return to Cairo, and the battle of Aboukir, are soon dismissed by
the satirist, and not chronicled by the caricaturist.



It is refreshing, and like going among green pastures and cool streams,
to leave for a while political caricature, with its ambitions, and its
carnage, and find a really funny social skit, aiming at the follies of
the times, even if it be only in ridiculing extravagance in dress.

Exceedingly droll is a social caricature by Gillray (August 15, 1799),
where a courtly old gentleman of the Court of Louis XVI. bows low,
saying, ‘Je suis votre tres humble serviteur,’ whilst the ruffianly
French ‘gentleman of the Court of Égalité’ replies with a sentence
unfit for reproduction. (See next page.)

Littré, in his magnificent dictionary, gives a very terse definition
of these ‘Incroyables’: ‘S. _m._ Nom donné aux petit maîtres sous le
Directoire, parce q’uon les entendait s’ecrier propos, c’est vraiment
incroyable; et, parce que leur costume était tellement exagéré qu’il
dépassait la croyance commune.’ They were Napoleon’s detestation,
according to Madame Junot, and she describes them with feminine
minuteness. ‘They wore grey greatcoats with black collars and green
cravats. Their hair, instead of being _à la Titus_, which was the
prevailing fashion of the day, was powdered, plaited, and turned up
with a comb, while on each side of the face hung two long curls,
called dog’s ears (_oreilles de chien_). As these young men were very
frequently attacked, they carried about with them large sticks, which
were not always weapons of defence; for the frays which arose in Paris
at that time were often provoked by them.’

Pardon must be begged for this digression, and the matter in hand
strictly attended to.



Napoleon left Egypt on August 23, 1799, and reached France October 8 of
that year. The causes for this step will be detailed a little later on.
Meanwhile the caricaturist was watching events on the Continent, and,
after his lights, depicting them. With those not personally affecting
Napoleon we have nothing to do; and of him--Egypt being a far cry--we
have but few, until after his return, when he was brought prominently
before European notice. Gillray thought he saw his power declining,
and on September 1, 1799, he published ‘Allied Powers, Unbooting
Égalité.’ In this picture Napoleon is being badly treated. One foot
is on a Dutch cheese, which a Hollander is plucking away; a British
tar has him fast round the waist, and arms; whilst a Turk, of most
ferocious description, his dress being garnished with human ears, is
pulling his nose, and slashing him with his scimitar, St. Jean d’Acre,
which is reeking with blood. Prussia, backed up by Russia, is drawing
off Italy, which serves as a boot for one leg, and, with it, a large
quantity of gold coin.

The causes which induced Napoleon to leave Egypt cannot better be made
known, and understood, than by quoting from De Bourrienne, who was
an actor in this episode. He says: ‘After the battle,[49] which took
place on the 25th July, Bonaparte sent a flag of truce on board the
English Admiral’s ship. Our intercourse was full of politeness, such as
might be expected in the communications of the people of two civilised
nations. The English Admiral gave the flag of truce some presents, in
exchange for some we sent, and, likewise, a copy of the French Gazette
of Francfort, dated 10th June, 1799.[50] For ten months we had received
no news from France. Bonaparte glanced over this journal with an
eagerness which may easily be conceived.

‘“Heavens!” said he to me, “my presentiment is verified: the fools
have lost Italy. All the fruits of our victories are gone! I must leave

‘He sent for Berthier, to whom he communicated the news, adding that
things were going on very badly in France--that he wished to return
home--that he (Berthier) should go along with him, and that, for the
present, only he, Gantheaume, and I, were in the secret. He recommended
him to be prudent, not to betray any symptoms of joy, nor to purchase,
or sell, anything.

‘He concluded by assuring him that he depended on him. “I can answer,”
said he, “for myself and Bourrienne.” Berthier promised to be secret,
and he kept his word. He had had enough of Egypt, and he so ardently
longed to return to France, that there was little reason to fear he
would disappoint himself by any indiscretion.

‘Gantheaume arrived, and Bonaparte gave him orders to fit out the two
frigates, the _Muiron_ and the _Carrère_, and the two small vessels,
the _Revanche_ and the _Fortune_, with a two months’ supply of
provisions for from four, to five, hundred men. He enjoined his secrecy
as to the object of these preparations, and desired him to act with
such circumspection that the English cruisers might have no knowledge
of what was going on. He afterwards arranged with Gantheaume the course
he wished to take. Nothing escaped his attention.’

Bonaparte concealed his operations with much care; but still some vague
rumours crept abroad. General Dugua, the commandant of Cairo, whom he
had just left, for the purpose of embarking, wrote to him on August 18
to the following effect:--

‘I have this moment heard, that it is reported at the Institute, you
are about to return for France, taking with you Monge, Berthollet,
Berthier, Lannes, and Murat. This news has spread like lightning
through the city, and I should not be at all surprised if it produced
an unfavourable effect, which, however, I hope you will obviate.’

Bonaparte embarked five days after the receipt of Dugua’s letter; and,
as may be supposed, without replying to it.

On August 18, he wrote to the Divan of Cairo as follows: ‘I set out
to-morrow for Menouf, from whence I intend to make various excursions
to the Delta, in order that I may, myself, witness the acts of
oppression which are committed there, and to acquire some knowledge of
the people.’

He told the army but half the truth: ‘The news from Europe,’ said he,
‘has determined me to proceed to France. I leave the command of the
army to General Kleber. The army shall hear from me forthwith. At
present I can say no more. It costs me much pain to quit troops to whom
I am so strongly attached. But my absence will be but temporary, and
the general I leave in command has the confidence of the government, as
well as mine.’

At night, in the dark, on August 23, he stole on board: and who can
wonder if the army expressed some dissatisfaction at his leaving them
in the lurch? From the many works I have consulted, whilst writing this
book, I can believe the words of General Danican (who has been before
quoted) in ‘Ring the Alarum Bell!’--‘Immediately after Buonaparte’s
midnight flight from Egypt, with the Cash of the army, he was hung in
effigy by the Soldiers; who, in dancing round the spectacle, sang the
coarsest couplets (a copy of which I have now in my possession) written
for the occasion, to the tune of the _Carmagnole_, beginning: “So,
Harlequin has at length deserted us!--never mind my boys, never mind;
he will at last be really hanged; he promised to make us all rich; but,
instead, he has robbed all the cash himself, and now’s gone off: oh!
the scoundrel Harlequin, &c., &c.”’

[Illustration: FLIGHT FROM EGYPT.]

This charge against Napoleon, of running away with the treasure-chests,
is, like almost all the others, of French origin. Hear what Madame
Junot says, as it shows the feeling of the French army on this point,
that some one had taken them (for Napoleon’s benefit): ‘A report was
circulated in the army that Junot was carrying away the treasures found
in the pyramids by the General in Chief. He could not carry them away
himself’ (such was the language held to the soldiers), ‘and so the man
who possesses all his confidence is now taking them to him.’ The matter
was carried so far that several subalterns, and soldiers, proceeded to
the shore, and some of them went on board the merchantman which was
to sail with Junot the same evening. They rummaged about, but found
nothing; at length they came to a prodigious chest, which ten men could
not move, between decks, “Here is the treasure!” cried the soldiers;
“here is our pay that has been kept from us above a year; where is the
key?” Junot’s valet, an honest German, shouted to them in vain, with
all his might, that the chest did not belong to his chenerâl. They
would not listen to him.

‘Unluckily, Junot, who was not to embark till evening, was not then
on board. The mutineers seized a hatchet, and began to cut away
at the chest, which they would soon have broken up, had not the
ship’s carpenter come running out of breath. “What the devil are you
at?” cried he, “mad fellows that you are: stop! don’t destroy my
chest--here’s the key.” He opened it immediately, and lo!--the tools of
the master carpenter.’

Barre, of course, alludes to this alleged robbery, and Combe writes of
his desertion of his troops as follows:--

  Aboukir castle having won,
  Our hero thought it best to run.
  The bravest man will run away,
  When it is dangerous to stay;
  But, as he to his troops declared,
  By him all dangers should be shared,
  And that on no account he’d leave them,
  ’Twas proper he should now deceive them.
  The cunning he display’d in fight,
  He manifested in his flight.
  On some pretence, it seems, he wrote
  To certain generals a note,
  Acquainting them with what he wanted,
  The time and place, too, he appointed.
  These generals, so well they fared,
  The _fame_ of his desertion shared.
  When to th’ appointed place they got,
  Nap was already on the spot;
  And, what of all things made them glad,
  The military chest he had!
  He left his army,--but we find
  He left these words for them behind:
  ‘This parting grieves me sore, altho’ meant
  To be for only a short moment.’


    For an Illustration of the above see the intercepted Letters
    from the Republican General Kleber to the French Directory
    respecting the Courage, Honor, and Patriotism of ----, the
    Deserter of the Army of Egypt.

This caricature is presumably by Gillray, although it is not signed
by him; and, as it was published on March 8, 1800, it is absolutely
prophetic, for Napoleon is pointing to a future imperial crown and
sceptre. This is especially curious, as it shows how, even then, the
public opinion of England (of which, of course, the caricaturist was
but a reflex) estimated him.



Napoleon arrived in Paris at, for him, a happy moment, for the
Directory was then as good as defunct. There was a feeling that a
strong hand was needed to guide the affairs of the nation, and Generals
Moreau and Jubert had already been offered the post of First Magistrate
of the Republic, and each had declined the honour. When Napoleon
landed, he was hailed as THE MAN, and his arrival was telegraphed to
Paris, where it created an immense sensation.

On the day after his arrival, he had an interview with the Directors,
to whom he explained the state of the army in Egypt, and told them,
how, having heard of the disasters that had befallen their armies, he
had returned home to help them; but, although he was offered his choice
of commands, he would have none of them, and lived quietly at Paris.
The Council of Five Hundred even gave him a public dinner[51]--but he
was steadily working out the ends he had in view.

What that was, was evident to the English people, for his aim was
shown very amusingly in a caricature by an unknown artist (November
1799). Napoleon, who, even then, is represented as crowned, appears
as a crocodile, in jackboots and sword, squeezing the life out of two
frogs, whilst the dismay of the others is most comically rendered: a
bodyguard of crocodiles, in military uniform, back up their leader.

On November 9, he was made commandant of the forces in Paris, which
prepared him for the explosion of the 18th Brumaire, year 8 (November
10, 1799). The expulsion of the Council is most graphically told in
the ‘Times’ of November 18, eight days after the event, showing how
slowly news travelled then. The scene must have been painted by an
eye-witness, for it gives the whole previous debate--which at last
turned on Napoleon’s appointment as commandant. It is so well told, I
cannot help giving it in its entirety.

‘_Grandmaison._ “We are only offering crossing and contradicting
propositions, without coming to any decision: I move that you begin by
declaring the appointment of Buonaparte to be unconstitutional.”

‘“Yes, yes,” was resounded from several parts of the Hall.

‘L. (_ucien_) Buonaparte quitted the Chair, which he gave up to Chazal,
and said, “I entreat the Council calmly to reflect on the commotion
that has manifested itself. It may not be needless to represent”--(Here
he was interrupted by a loud voice, who said, “Do not attempt to amuse
us”)--“I propose” (continued Lucien Buonaparte) “that you summon the
General who commands to appear before you.”

‘“We do not acknowledge him,” exclaimed several Members.

‘“When cool consideration” (observed Buonaparte) “shall have stilled
in your breasts the extraordinary emotion which you have testified”
(_murmurs_), “you will, perhaps, be sensible of the injustice done
General Buonaparte. Whatever may be the event, I now, in your presence,
lay down on the altar of the Country, the badge of Magistracy with
which the people had invested me.”

‘On saying these words, he laid down his badge of office on the
President’s table: upon which the doors of the Hall were opened, and
twenty Grenadiers entered. They advanced towards the Bureau, took L.
Buonaparte into custody, and, placing him in the midst of them, they
conducted him out of the Hall.

‘The Council was seized with extreme agitation. Cries, vociferations,
and tumultuous confusion, arose from the Members suddenly quitting
their places. Not a word could be distinctly heard.

‘Grandmaison, Blin, Delbrel, Bigonnet, Sherlock, Crochon, and several
other Members, pressed forward towards the tribune.

‘Sherlock made an effort to speak, but could scarcely make himself
heard among the tumult. “I move,” said he, “that you call back your
President, whose resignation you have not accepted.”

‘“He could have done nothing better,” exclaimed several Members, “than
to have given it in.”

‘Meantime, at a distance was heard the sound of drums that beat the
_pas de charge_.... Soon after, for the third time, the doors of the
Hall were thrown open; and a third time the spectators endeavoured
precipitately to escape by leaping out of the windows.

‘An officer came forwards, followed by a numerous guard, exclaiming
with a loud voice, “_General Buonaparte orders the Hall to be
cleared_.” Upon which, the troops advanced into the Hall, the further
part of which remained occupied by the Deputies, who had not retired.
The soldiers suspended their march for a moment, in order to afford
time for the Hall to be cleared. About a Dozen of Members, among whom
was Blin, remained near the Tribune, or at the Bureau; one of them who
was at the Tribune, exclaimed,

‘“What are you, Soldiers? are you anything else than guardians of the
National Representation; and do you dare to menace its safety, to
incroach on its independence--is it thus that you tarnish the laurels
which your courage has won?”

‘This harangue was coldly listened to by the soldiers, who advanced
into the Hall with drums beating. The Members who stood near the Bureau
and the Tribune, were at length obliged to yield their places to the
soldiers, who took possession of them. As the latter advanced into the
Hall, these members went out at the opposite door. In a few minutes the
Hall was completely cleared. It was then five o’clock.

‘Several members set out immediately for Paris, others remained at
St. Cloud to observe the deliberations of the Council of Elders, and
the extraordinary movement of the troops who filled the square of the
palace. From time to time were heard the cries of _Vive Buonaparte!_
_Vive la République!_

‘General Buonaparte, on hearing the Council of Five Hundred had
withdrawn, advanced towards the soldiers and harangued them.

‘He entreated them to remain calm, and to rest assured that the good
cause should triumph. They all answered by shouts of _Vive Buonaparte!_’

The scene depicted in the accompanying illustration is somewhat
dramatically told by Napoleon himself in his proclamation of 19th
Brumaire: ‘I presented myself before the Council of Five Hundred,
alone, unarmed, my head uncovered, just as the Ancients had received
and applauded me. My object was to restore to the majority the
expression of its will, and to secure to it its power.

‘The stilettos which had menaced the Deputies, were instantly raised
against their deliverer. Twenty assassins rushed upon me, and aimed at
my breast. The grenadiers of the legislative body, whom I had left at
the door of the hall, ran forward, and placed themselves between me
and the assassins. One of these brave grenadiers (Thorne[52]) had his
clothes pierced by a stiletto. They bore me off.’


      Th’ appointed meeting now took place,
  Producing tumult and disgrace,
  Some of the members, when desired,
  Refused to take the oath required,
  Insisting Nap should not be spared
  But as an outlaw be declared.
  As President Nap’s brother sat,
  So Lucien _hemm’d_ and _haw’d_ at that.
  But so outrageous was the strife,
  He found it hard to save his life;
  His eloquence he now display’d,
  ‘Napoleon must be heard,’ he said.
  Then Boney came--in great dismay;
  Th’ Assembly ordered him away--
  But such an order was mere _fudge_,
  The brave Napoleon scorn’d to budge;
  And several began to push in,
  To tear to pieces Nap and Lucien.
  Nap gave the word--his troops attended,
  By grenadiers he was defended;
  Tremendous now the hurly-burly,
  Each phiz appear’d confounded surly;
  They drew their daggers in a rage,
  And civil war began to wage.
  Amidst these violent attacks,
  Now some were thrown upon their backs,
  And others fell upon their faces,
  And others, on their ---- proper places;
  While many, uttering sad groans,
  Were found upon their marrow bones.

Gillray, of course (November 21, 1799), touched on it, but not very
effectively, his picture ‘Exit Libertè a la Francais!--or--Buonaparte
closing the Farce of Égalité, at Saint Cloud, near Paris, November 10,
1799,’ being the weakest caricature of any on this subject. Napoleon is
directing his troops, who are charging the Council with fixed bayonets.

The Council met again at night, but simply to do as they were bid.
Thorne, the grenadier with the torn coat, was decreed to have deserved
well of his country, as were also Napoleon, Lefebvre, Murat, Berthier,
and many others. Sixty-one members of the Council were expelled, and
Article two of the Resolution, passed that night, says,--

‘The Legislative Body creates provisionally an Executive Consular
Committee, composed of Citizens Syeyes and Roger Ducos, Ex-Directors,
and Buonaparte, General. They shall bear the name of Consuls of the
French Republic.’



Napoleon had now got his foot fairly on the ladder, but it was he
alone who was to mount it. At the first meeting of the Consuls, Sièyes
asked, ‘Which of us is to preside?’ Ducos had grasped the position, and
replied, ‘Do you not see that the General presides?’

There is a caricature by Cawse (November 30, 1799) of ‘Satan’s
return from Egypt/Earth. Discovered in Council with
Belzebub and Belial--a Sketch after Fuseli[53]!!!’ Here Napoleon
forms the centre figure, one foot resting on a skull, the other on
the Marseillaise hymn and the Council of Five Hundred. Behind him is
a glory, with a trinity formed of three daggers--Sièyes, Ducos, and
Buonaparte. Devils surround him, and, at his feet, is a howling French

  Our hero, now, the people guided,
  And a new government provided.
  First Consul, _modestly_ he claim’d,
  Two others were Sub-Consuls named;
  But these were not in Boney’s way,
  For the first Consul had full sway.
  And now these Consuls took an oath,
  For Nap to swear was never loth.
      Thus elevated, Josephine
  Imagin’d she would be a queen;
  But she by Nap was harshly told,
  That six and forty was too old;
  His mother, who the lady hated,
  Advised him to be separated;
  By her persuasions, Nap, of course
  Began to think of a divorce.
  He ponder’d ev’ry afternoon,
  And rubbing once his forehead, soon
  The lady’s banishment decreed,
  Because--their tempers disagreed.
  In fact, her faults he recollected,
  And her caresses now rejected.
  But, as ’twill not improve our morals,
  We’ll pass these matrimonial quarrels.
      As Nap a love of pow’r betray’d,
  He great munificence display’d;
  For he rewarded with donations,
  His friends, especially relations.
  He to his mother acted handsome,
  As he bestowed on her a grand sum;
  For Joe, and Lucien, he provided,
  Who, at this time, in France resided--
  How suddenly success awaits men!
  Both Joe, and Lucien, he made Statesmen.

It was not probable that Napoleon would rest contented with the
provisional position he occupied. A fresh government had to be
constituted, of which he must be the head: and so the Constitution of
December 13 was manufactured, and afterwards passed into law. Article
23 provided, ‘The sittings of the Senate are not to be public.’ Article
24, ‘The Citizens Sièyes, and Roger Ducos, the Consuls quitting their
functions, are appointed members of the Conservative Senate. They shall
assemble along with the second and third Consuls nominated by the
present Constitution. These four Citizens shall appoint the Majority
of the Senate, which shall then complete itself, and proceed to the
elections entrusted to it.’

Article 39. ‘The Government is entrusted to three Consuls appointed
for ten years, and indefinitely re-eligible. Each of them is to be
elected individually with the distinct quality of Chief, Second, or
Third Consul. The first time the Third Consul shall only be named
for five years. For the present time General Bonaparte is appointed
Chief Consul, Citizen Cambaceres, now Minister of Justice, Second
Consul, and Citizen Lebrun, Member of the Committee of Antients,
Third Consul.’ Article 41. ‘The Chief Consul is to promulgate the
laws: he is to name and revoke at pleasure the Members of the Council
of State; the Ministers, Ambassadors, and other principal foreign
agents, the officers of the army by land and sea, the members of
local administration and the Commissioners of the Government at the
Tribunals. He is to appoint all Judges, Criminal and Civil, as well as
Justices of the Peace, and the Judges of Cassation, without the power
of afterwards revoking them.’ Article 43. ‘The salary of the Chief
Consul shall be 500,000 francs for the 8th year’ (ending September
22, 1800). ‘The salary of the other two Consuls shall be equal to
three-tenths of that of the first.’ So that we see Napoleon fully knew
how to take care of himself.

On January 1, 1800, Gillray published ‘The French Triumvirate settling
the New Constitution’--and mighty wise they look. (See next page.)

In the year 1799, Consols ranged from 55 in January to 62¼, the closing
price in December. Bread, however, was dear, the average of the
quartern loaf being 13_d._

It was in the latter part of this year that Napoleon notified to
George the Third his elevation to the dignity of First Consul, and
appropriately chose Christmas Day on which to date his letter, which
breathed (sincerely or not) ‘Peace on earth, goodwill towards men.’



Bonaparte, First Consul of the Republic, to His Majesty the King of
Great Britain and Ireland.

            Paris 5 Nivôse year VIII. of the Republic.

    Called by the wishes of the French Nation to occupy the first
    magistracy of the French Republic, I deem it desirable, in
    entering on its functions, to make a direct communication to
    your Majesty.

    Must The War, which for four years, has ravaged every part
    of the world, be eternal? Are there no means of coming to an

    How can the two most enlightened nations of Europe, more
    powerful and stronger than is necessary for their safety and
    independence, sacrifice to the idea of a vain grandeur, the
    benefits of commerce, of internal prosperity, and domestic
    happiness? How is it they do not feel that peace is as glorious
    as necessary?

    These sentiments cannot be strangers to the heart of your
    Majesty, who rules over a free nation, with no other view than
    to render them happy.

    Your Majesty will only see in this overture my sincere desire
    to effectually contribute to a general pacification, by a
    prompt step, free and untrammeled by those forms, which,
    necessary, perhaps, to disguise the apprehensions of feeble
    states, only prove in the case of strong ones, the mutual
    desire to deceive.

    France and England, by abusing their strength, may for a long
    time yet, to the misery of all other nations, defer the moment
    of their absolute exhaustion; but I will venture to say that
    the fate of all civilised nations, depends on the end of a war
    which envelopes the whole world.

            signed BONAPARTE.

The British Government did not quite see it, but considered that the
claws of the French eagle required yet more cutting. They had been
partially operated on at the Nile, and at Acre. Italy was no longer
under French rule. Suwarrow’s victories had severely crippled the
French, who were, besides, very weak financially. Add to this, that
there were 140,000 Austrians gathering along the Rhine. But still it
was judged they were yet too sharp for the peace of Europe.

  The answer from the English Court,
  Vex’d Nap, according to report:
  ’Twas to the Minister address’d,
  It being candidly confess’d
  That there appear’d not the least cause
  To break through ceremonial laws;
  In this his Majesty agreed,
  Peace was desirable indeed,
  If that his Majesty were able
  T’ obtain one permanent and stable;
  But that at present there was poor hope
  For England, and indeed for Europe,
  Till France her lawful princes own’d
  The Bourbons--whom she had dethron’d.

This, really, was the tenor of Lord Grenville’s reply, dated January 4,
1800, which is far too long, and uninteresting, to reproduce.

Gillray caricatured this letter of Napoleon’s (February 24, 1800)
in ‘_The Apples and the Horse dung, or Buonaparte among the Golden
Pippins_; from an old Fable. Explanation.--Some horse dung being
washed by the current from a neighbouring dunghill, espied a number
of fair apples swimming up the stream, when, wishing to be thought
of consequence, the horse dung would every moment be bawling out,
“Lack-a-day, how we apples swim!” _See_ Buonaparte’s “Letter to his
Majesty,” and Mr. Whitbread’s “Remarks upon the Correspondence between
Crowned Heads.”’ Although Gillray did not choose a very savoury subject
to illustrate his caricature, yet there is much humour in it.



There was very little caricature of Napoleon in the year 1800, for the
best of reasons, that we had very little to do with him, as he was
occupied till May in settling his Government, and then he left for his
Italian campaign. But in this year (May 12) Gillray issued a series of
eight plates, ‘Democracy, or a Sketch of the life of Buonaparte,’ of
which I have already given three--‘Democratic Innocence,’ ‘Democratic
Humility,’ and ‘Democratic Religion.’ As four are not very interesting,
I have not given them, only the last of the series, which, evidently,
was meant to be extended.


    Buonaparte on his Couch surrounded by the Ghosts of the
    Murder’d--the dangers which threaten his Usurpation, and all
    the Horrors of Final Retribution.

Combe, even, had very little to say of this time, lightly touching the
passage of the Alps, the occupation of Milan and Pavia, the defeat of
the Austrians at Montebello, and the battle of Marengo, where he makes
an assertion I cannot find elsewhere, nor trace to any French source,
except De Bourrienne.

  Soon after this the gallant fellow
  The Austrians drove from Montebello,
  And then did he, with all his men go,
  To aid the battle of Marengo;
  Here was indeed a bold resistance,
  Brave Boney saw it at a distance:
  And at this time, it is not doubted,
  Nap’s army was completely routed;
  Indeed, it grieves the muse to say,
  Our hero cried, and ran away;
  But brave Desaix, who was not idle,
  His horse soon grappled by the bridle,
  And turning round the Consul’s phiz,
  He said, while anger ruffled his,
  ‘Citizen Consul, look before ye--
  That is the road to fame and glory.
  Nap bit his lip, and swore by heaven,
  Th’ offence was not to be forgiven;
  Indeed, as many understand,
  That hour the Gen’ral’s fall he plann’d.
  By Victor and Desaix defeated,
  The Austrians in their turn retreated.
  This Victor, who destruction hurl’d
  Made always a great noise in the world,
  For he had been a drummer, so
  The way to _beat_ he’d cause to know.
  But, while victorious, now we find
  Desaix received a shot behind,
  His Aid-du-camp was bribed to do it,
  And well, too, the First Consul knew it;
  Besides the shot, a base attack!
  He got a stab, too, in the back;
  He fell, and instantly expir’d--
  His death by Boney was desired:
  Yet when they told him he was dead,
  ‘Why can’t I weep?’ he faintly said.


This scandalous accusation is too contemptible to be thought true for a
moment; but I must reproduce it, to show what was said of Napoleon in
England. Yet, in a portion of it, there is a small substratum of truth.
Hear what De Bourrienne says: ‘The death of Desaix was not perceived at
the moment it took place. He fell without saying a word, at a little
distance from Lefebvre-Desnouettes. A battalion-sergeant of the ninth
brigade of light infantry, commanded by Barrois, seeing him extended
on the ground, asked permission to pick up his cap. It was found to be
perforated behind; and this circumstance leaves it doubtful whether
Desaix was killed by some unlucky inadvertency while advancing at the
head of his troops, or by the enemy when turning towards his men to
encourage them.’

Other accounts speak of his being shot in the breast.

How Napoleon loved Desaix, is best told by them who knew him well,
and let them bear witness against this gross calumny. De Bourrienne
says: ‘After supper, the First Consul dictated to me the bulletin of
the battle. When we were alone, I said to him, “General, here’s a fine
victory. You recollect what you said the other day, about the pleasure
with which you would return to France after striking a grand blow in
Italy: surely you must be satisfied now?”--“Yes, Bourrienne, I am
satisfied. But Desaix!... Ah, what a triumph would this have been if I
could have embraced him to-night on the field of battle!” As he uttered
these words, I saw that Bonaparte was on the point of shedding tears,
so sincere and profound was his grief for the death of Desaix. He
certainly never loved, esteemed or regretted, any man so much.’

O’Meara writes: ‘Asked him if it were true that Desaix had, a little
before his death, sent a message of the following purport to him: “Tell
the First Consul that I regret dying before I have done sufficient to
make my name known to posterity.” Napoleon replied, “it was true,” and
accompanied it with some warm eulogiums on Desaix.’

As a matter of fact Napoleon could not sufficiently honour the
memory of his comrade, so highly did he estimate him. He spoke, in
his bulletins, of the irreparable loss his death caused him; he took
for his own aides-de-camp, Rapp, and Savary, who had acted in this
capacity to Desaix. A medal was struck in his honour, his statue should
have been erected on the Place des Victoires, solemn ceremonies were
ordered, masses were said, and a monument was raised, by subscription,
on the Place Dauphine, Paris.

It is amusing to read in the newspapers of the day (with the exception
of the ‘Times’) the spiteful things said against Napoleon. But
Cobbett, in the ‘Porcupine,’ outdoes them all, and spits his venom
on the most harmless deeds. ‘The late establishment of Soup shops in
Paris, naturally excites some curious ideas. Madame Bonaparte, their
patroness, who is also a sprig of nobility, seems in no small degree
attached to the ancient regimen; hence probably her wish to revive
soup meagre, frogs, &c. Nor is it less remarkable that the French
should wish to establish soup shops, just at the time when they were
falling into disuse in this country.’[54] ‘The _Morning Post_ tells us
that “the Chief Consul has taken a thousand subscription tickets for
the _soup establishments_ at Paris.” This is at once a proof of that
_plenty_ which we have been told exists in France, and of the Charity
of the Chief Consul. If ever there was a country more degraded than
all others, it is France. Should there be, amongst the people of that
country, one man left, who entertains antient notions, what must be
his mortification and shame to see his countrymen not only ruled, but
actually fed like paupers, by a low bred upstart from the contemptible
island of Corsica! And this, ye gods! is the _Grand Nation_! This is
the nation who is to change the public law of Europe! This is the
nation to whom Britons are requested to bow down their heads! To
return to the “_soup establishments_,” we should be glad to know how
the Corsican came by the money to purchase a thousand tickets. Was
it part of the dower which Barras gave him with his bride? We rather
think he wrung it from the hands of the sovereign people. What a base,
what a despicable, race of slaves! They submit to assessments, forced
loans, requisitions, and confiscations; they see their treasure seized
on by millions upon millions, and they applaud the “_charity_ and
_generosity_” of the plunderer in chief, because he bestows on them the
fractions in soup maigre!‘[55]

Cobbett did not write with ink, but with gall, and was not at all
particular as to the veracity of his statements. Take the following
examples:[56] ‘_Lucien Buonaparte_ is holden in detestation in France.
His office, as Minister of the Interior, gives him the command of
very large sums, which he wastes in every kind of dissipation, and in
the most scandalous manner, in order, forsooth! to support his rank
as a _Prince of the Blood_!!! He is protected by the whole power of
his brother, whose _vanity_, the leading _foible_ in his character,
leads him to confer on the members of his family, all the advantages
and prerogatives of Sovereign princes. This conduct has rendered him
the object of incessant ridicule, and considerably diminished his

‘Another species of evil peculiar to a corrupt military government,
prevails in a very great degree, and has become particularly offensive
to the French, viz. the influence and insolence of generals.

‘All the generals attached to Buonaparte, those who supported him in
his usurpation, and those who were with him in Egypt, bear an exact
resemblance to the minions and favourites of the Roman Emperors. These
men have the public treasure almost entirely at their disposal. General
Lasnes, one of the Consul’s chief friends, spends the enormous sum of
_five hundred thousand livres_ (upwards of twenty thousand guineas!!!)
a month, at Paris, where he and his aids de camp occupy one of the
most magnificent _hotels_ in that capital. Buonaparte, not being
able to supply his favourites with sufficient specie for defraying
their unbounded expences, grants them _congées d’exportation_, i.e.
an exclusive permission to export various articles the exportation of
which is prohibited by law; these _congées_ are sold to mercantile men,
who purchase them at a very high price.’

‘To the facts, which we stated on Monday, respecting the prodigality
of Buonaparte and his creatures, we may add the instance of General
Ney. This Republican Bashaw has fixed his head-quarters at Neubourg,
at the expence of which place, his table is furnished at the rate of
_ninety pounds sterling a day_! The French have a proverb, the truth
of which they and their neighbours now experience to their sorrow: “Il
vaut mieux qu’une cité soit brûlée, q’un parvenu la gouverne”--A city
had better be burnt to ashes, than submit to the rule of an upstart



The two plots against Napoleon’s life which occurred in this year must
not be forgotten. Let us have Combe’s version, which does not much
exaggerate the facts of the cases:--

  It seems the Jacobins against
  Our hero greatly were incensed:
  His levées, drawing-rooms, and so forth,
  They look’d upon as deeds of no worth;
  The pageantry he held so dear,
  Did not Republican appear;
  And, at such goings on distrest,
  Their indignation they exprest;
  Our hero consequently saw
  The need of keeping them in awe;
  So he contrived a plot, which seems
  The masterpiece of all his schemes;
  And in this plot, too, he resolved
  His greatest foes should be involved.
  Fouché pretended, on th’ occasion,
  (For Nap allow’d of no evasion)
  That some conspirators had got
  Daggers and pistols, and what not,
  To make the Conqueror their aim,
  When from the Opera he came.
  Nap to the Opera went indeed,
  One gave the signal, as agreed;
  Three men were instantly arrested
  Three whom great Bonaparte detested.
  They got it seems a dagger from one,
  But carrying daggers now was common;
  He was from Nap at a great distance,
  This proof, tho’, was of no assistance;
  When the supposed assassination
  Had undergone examination,
  They seiz’d on others, as directed,
  For having such a scheme projected;
  One prov’d at home that night he slept,
  For being ill, his bed he kept;
  All this, however, had no weight,
  For Nap’s resentment was too great.
  They suffered by the guillotine,
  Which was his favourite machine;
  Save one, th’ Italian too, I wot,
  From whom the dagger had been got,
  Nap banish’d him, and with him too,
  Th’ Italian patriotic crew;
  Four thousand, as historians say,
  For no offence were swept away.

The first plot was that of October 10, 1800, and it has, certainly,
somewhat of a police ‘get up’ about it. The First Consul knew all
about it through an ex _chef de bataillon_ named Harrel, who used to
come every night to De Bourrienne, and tell him what the so-called
conspirators had done. He supplied Harrel, at Napoleon’s request, with
money, &c. Napoleon was never in any danger, and four men perished by
the guillotine.

Barre says: ‘Still the persons designed, and arrested, on the very spot
of the premeditated murder, were strictly searched about their proper
persons, and neighbouring places, and not an arm, nor even a pin, was
found. With what, then, could those pretended conspirators commit a
murder, since, at the very moment, and on the very spot where it was to
have been perpetrated, no kind of arms were found about them?

‘That such was the case, it was asserted, and never denied, in the
course of the trial.

‘The only witness was one Harel, an acknowledged spy of the police,
holding the rank of Captain.

‘And on the single evidence of a spy, devoted to, and paid by, the
police, four men (Arena, Ceracchi, Demerville, and Topino-Lebrun,) were
condemned to death....

‘Those unfortunate men having appealed from such iniquitous judgment,
as grounded on many erroneous statements, and irregular proceedings,
the court of appeals divided, when it was found that eight judges were
for repealing, and eight for confirming, the judgment.

‘The division being equal, five more judges were added to the sixteen,
when the iniquitous judgment was confirmed.’

The other attempt upon Napoleon’s life was genuine enough. On December
24, 1800, Haydn’s Oratorio of the ‘Creation’ was to be performed at the
Opera. He was sleepy, and disinclined to go, but was overpersuaded, and
went. Luckily his coachman was drunk, and drove faster than usual. In
the Rue St. Nicaise there was a loud explosion, two or three seconds
after he had passed the place where it had occurred.

A barrel of gunpowder, surrounded by grapeshot, and pieces of iron, was
fixed in a cart, and fired when Napoleon passed. He escaped, but twenty
people were killed, and fifty-three wounded, including St. Regent who
fired the train. The coachman was so drunk that he drove on, thinking
it was only a salute that had been fired. There are several, and
contradictory, versions of this event, but this seems to be the most

  For this conspiracy ideal
  Was soon succeeded by one real.
  While the First Consul, with delight,
  Was going to the play one night;
  His carriage pass’d a narrow way,
  Where an infernal barrel lay--
  This barrel of a sudden blew up,
  And the combustibles all flew up.
  With great dismay was Boney filled,
  No wonder--some were hurt and kill’d;
  The windows of the carriage broke,
  And most tremendous was the smoke:
  The coachman luckily enough,
  Had taken plenty of strong stuff;
  And, not regarding any evil,
  Drove thro’ the passage like a devil;
  His whip applied when there was need,
  And saved his master by his speed.
  Had coachee been of drink no lover,
  With Nap it would have been all over.
  The Jacobins (for, as related,
  This party the brave Consul hated,)
  Were mark’d for this assassination,
  And many suffered transportation.
  Indeed our hero firmly swore,
  (As he had often done before,
  For he would swear thro’ thick and thin),
  The British had a hand therein--
  It seems the gentleman forgot
  John Bull disdains a wicked plot.

Cobbett, of course, improves the occasion.[58] ‘Miserable slaves! For
an instance of base flattery, surpassing anything we have hitherto
seen, take the following from the _Chef du Cabinet_: “The explosion of
the infernal machine broke _twenty-nine_ pictures, out of _thirty_,
which ornamented an apartment in the street of St. Thomas. The single
picture which escaped, was that of the Chief Consul. One would be ready
to affirm (mark this) _that the same God, who watches over the life of
the first Consul, protected even his likeness_”!!! What Emperor was
it that talked of making _his horse a Consul_? An English blood horse
would be disgraced by becoming the successor of Buonaparte.’

And again:[59] ‘Buonaparte’s embracing the Parisian addressers, puts us
in mind of the good old ceremony of the _thief’s kissing the hangman_.’



It is sad to take up the very first number of the ‘London Gazette’ for
1801, and find ‘A Proclamation for a general Fast,’ which was to be
held on February 13, the reason wherefore is stated thus: ‘WE, taking
into Our most serious consideration the heavy Judgments with which
Almighty God is pleased to visit the Iniquities of this land, by a
grievous Scarcity and Dearth of divers Articles of Sustenance, and
Necessaries of Life &c.’

The war bore grievously on the Commons, and, consequently, Napoleon was
in like measure abhorred. Nothing short of the thought of approaching
famine could have caused Parliament to pass, and the king give his
royal assent to,[60] ‘An Act to prevent until the Sixth Day of
November, One Thousand Eight Hundred and One, and from thence to the
End of Six Weeks from the Commencement of the then next Session of
Parliament, the manufacturing of any fine Flour from Wheat, or other
Grain, and the making of any Bread solely from the fine Flour of Wheat;
and to repeal an Act, passed in the Thirty-Sixth Year of the Reign of
His present Majesty, for permitting Bakers to make and sell certain
Sorts of Bread, and to make more effectual Provision for the same.’
This took effect on January 31, 1801.

‘An Act to prohibit, until the First Day of October, One thousand
eight hundred and one, and from thence to the End of Six Weeks next
after the then next Session of Parliament, any Person or Persons from
selling any Bread which shall not have been baked Twenty-four Hours.’
This Act was 41 Geo. III. cap. 17, and it recites the reason in the
preamble: ‘Whereas it is expedient to reduce as much as possible, at
the present moment, the consumption of Wheat flour. And whereas it
appears a considerable saving would arise if Bread was prohibited from
being sold until it had been baked a certain time, &c.’ The penalties
of non-compliance ranging from 5_s._ to 40_s._

Here is a receipt given for adulterated bread: ‘Improvement of bread,
with economy of flour, and saving of expense:--Take one pound of ground
rice, put it in cold water sufficient to cover it, and something more,
boil it, and it will absorb all the water, and weigh four pounds; mix
four pounds of flour with it, knead them well together, and lighten
them with yeast, like common bread, and they will produce ten pounds
ten ounces of excellent bread, which will not cost more than twopence
halfpenny per pound, and will save one half in the consumption of
flour. N.B. this bread will keep moist a week.’

When we remember that bad bread was on January 1, 1801, 1_s._ 9¼_d._
per quartern loaf, on March 5, 1_s._ 10½_d._, and although it dropped
after harvest as low as 10¼_d._, yet closed December 31 at 1_s._
0¼_d._, and that this bad bread had to be eaten stale, all through
Boney, we cannot wonder that the people did not love him. His direct
presence was brought home to all and every one daily, by means of that
most susceptible bodily organ, the stomach. It was hitting John Bull in
a very vulnerable part.

The war in Egypt still kept on, and in February reinforcements of
15,330 men, under the command of Sir Ralph Abercrombie, set sail in
a fleet of 175 vessels or ships. In March they defeated the French
under Menon, the renegade, but at the cost of the life of the brave

On April 19, Rosetta surrendered to our forces, and on June 27 Cairo
capitulated, on condition that General Belliard, with all his troops,
arms, and baggage, should be taken back to France. On their march back
to the coast, Menon, finding his cause hopeless, surrendered on the
same terms, and thus ended the French occupation of Egypt.

With Napoleon’s concordat with the Pope we have nothing to do, except
that his satirists here did not forget to contrast his attendance at
the solemn _Te Deum_ at Notre Dame with his pseudo-Mahometanism in
Egypt. What more affected us, was the arming along the Channel coast,
and the Flotilla at Boulogne, which was to act as transport for the
army for the invasion of England. The French themselves laughed at
these little cockle-shells of boats, _teste_ Madame Junot:--

‘Boulogne was designated from the year 1801, as the chief station
of the enterprise against England. The greatest activity suddenly
prevailed in all ports of the Channel; camps were formed on the
coast, divisions of light vessels were organised, and multitudes were
built. The Flotilla, as it was called, created apparently with the
greatest exertion, and all the apparatus of preparation, spread, as
was intended, alarm on the opposite shore. The Boulogne Flotilla was
composed of extremely light boats, so small, that at Paris, where
everything forms the subject of a jest, they were called walnut shells.
Brunet, who at this time was a truly comic actor, performing in some
piece which I do not remember, was eating walnuts, the shells of which,
after a little preparation, he launched upon some water in a tub by
his side. “What are you doing?” said his fellow actor. “Making des
péniches,” replied Brunet. This was the name by which the flat-bottomed
boats of the flotilla were known at Paris. But poor Brunet was made
to atone by twenty-four hours’ imprisonment for his unseasonble joke
on the Government; and the day after his release the same piece was
performed. When Brunet should have made the interdicted reply, he was
silent. The other actor repeated the inquiry as to what he was doing.
Still Brunet made no answer, and the other with an air of impatience
proceeded: “Perhaps you do not know what you are about?” “Oh yes!” said
Brunet, “I know very well what I am about, but I know better than to
tell.” The laugh was general, and so were the applauses; and, in truth,
nothing could be more droll than the manner in which this was uttered;
Brunet’s countenance in saying it was of itself sufficient to provoke
universal hilarity.’

But, in very truth, John Bull was not much frightened: there was
Nelson, and his fleet, and people had great faith in them. But Nelson
could do little against this passive fleet. On August 3 he bombarded
Boulogne, sunk five gunboats, and damaged others; and on the 15th of
the same month he tried to capture, or destroy, these gunboats, but
was unsuccessful in his attempt, as the French had chained them to the

We now come to the principal event of the year, the Peace--over which
there was much coquetting. As early as March, Lord Hawkesbury, the then
Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, addressed a letter to M. Otto,
signifying King George’s desire to enter into negotiations for the
restoration of peace.

These negotiations for peace were naturally noticed, and one very
good etching, by Roberts, ‘Negotiation See Saw,’ shows Napoleon and
John Bull engaged in that pastime seated on a plank ‘Peace or War.’
Bonaparte says, ‘There Johnny, now I’m down, and you are up--then I go
up and you go down Johnny--so we go on.’ John Bull does not enjoy the
situation so much, but grumbles, ‘I wish you would settle it one way or
other, for if you keep bumping me up and down in this manner I shall be
ruined in Diachilem Plaster.’

A somewhat elaborate etching, also by Roberts (no date, 1801), depicts
‘John Bull’s Prayer to Peace, or the flight of Discord.’ He is on his
knees praying the following to Peace: ‘Sublime Descendant of Happiness,
incline thine ear to the Petition of thy poor Patient, worn out
oppressed I. Bull, who humbly prayeth thee that thou would’st in the
first place exert thy influence, and be the means of restoring to me
again those lost Liberties and Privileges I have been so basely rob’d
of, and that you would’st be pleased also to put a speedy stop to cruel
monopolizing, and e’er it be long, send me thy attendant Plenty, to
comfort me and my long suffering numerous Family, and may that horrid
Demon Discord never return again.’ Peace, whom the eye of Providence
watches over, replies: ‘Thy Prayer shall be fulfill’d, Plenty awaits
thee with all her blessings, her pace is slow but sure.’ Bonaparte and
Pitt, who is represented as covered with serpents, are retreating.

On October 1, preliminary articles of peace with France were signed
at Lord Hawkesbury’s office at Downing Street, by his Lordship, and
M. Otto on the part of the French Government, and great were the
rejoicings at the event, although not so great as they might have been.
The ‘Times’ of October 3 says: ‘The public were so impatient to express
their feelings on the occasion of the News of the Preliminaries of
Peace being signed, that almost all the public streets were illuminated
last night. This was evidently not the wish of the Government, who
have deferred a general illumination until the ratification of them
comes back from France. Accordingly, none of the Public Offices were
illuminated, nor either of the Theatres. The ratification of the
Preliminaries is expected from Paris on Tuesday next.’

No wonder ‘the public were so impatient to express their feelings,’
their joy must have been so great. Long-suffering, they had borne the
burden and heat of a long war, cheerfully too, and gladly must they
have welcomed its conclusion.

In Paris the joy was the same. The ‘Times,’ October 10, says: ‘The
Intelligence ... was announced to the inhabitants of Paris by
discharges of Artillery, and was proclaimed by torch light throughout
the streets. At night there was a general illumination. Never was joy
more fervently expressed.’

One of the most practical tests of renewed confidence was the great
variation of 3 per cent. Consols--in September 58¼; in October 69½.

On October 10 came the preliminaries, ratified. Let us see the
‘Times’’ account:--‘London October 12th. On Saturday morning, at ten
o’clock, General Daurostan,[61] _Chef de Brigade_ in the Artillery,
and Aide de Camp to General Bonaparte, arrived at M. Otto’s house in
Hereford Street, with the ratification of the French Government of the
Preliminaries of Peace signed on the 1st inst. between Lord Hawkesbury
and M. Otto in Downing Street.

‘The Preliminaries were ratified in Paris on the 5th; but General
Daurostan was not dispatched till Wednesday evening, in order to give
time for a magnificent gold box to be made, in which the ratification
was enclosed to Lord Hawkesbury. The General was also delayed by his
carriage breaking down upon the road.

‘After breakfasting at M. Otto’s, the General, accompanied by the
Minister, and Mr. St. John (Mrs. Otto’s brother), proceeded to
_Reddish’s_ Hotel, in St. James’s Street, where he dressed, and
afterwards went to Downing Street. On their way thither, the populace
took the horses from the carriage, and drew it through the principal
streets. As soon as the Ratifications had been exchanged, Lord
Hawkesbury sent a letter to the Lord Mayor.... General Daurostan cannot
fail to communicate to his Court the very flattering manner in which
he had been received in London. His carriage having been drawn to St.
James’s Street, he alighted and came forward to the window, and bowed
to the populace. On his way to Downing Street, they drew his carriage
through the Park. Lord St. Vincent happening to be at the garden-gate
of the Admiralty, the mob gave the gallant Admiral three hearty cheers,
who, in return, recommended them to take care of the strangers, and
not to overturn the carriage.... It is understood that there will be
another illumination this evening. The Bank and Post Office have given
notice of their intending to do so.’

Cobbett foamed at the mouth over this Peace, and his utterances are so
caustic as to be well worth reproduction.[62] ‘We request our readers
to observe, that henceforth we shall be very particular in what we say
about the most illustrious Sovereign Consul Buonaparte. Oh! how we
shall extol him! We shall endeavour to give our readers the earliest
information, when he rises, breakfasts, dines, sups, and spits.
With all reverence, we shall treat of his lovely, chaste, and bonny
Queen--thus by way of a touch:

‘It is with superlative pleasure we inform our readers, that the last
news from France represents the health of the First Consul to be
improving. This glory of the world, is returned to his country palace
at Malmaison.

But it was after October 10, when the Ratification had arrived, that
Cobbett’s wrath boiled over, and he appears at his finest. In the
number for October 12, he gives vent to his impassioned feelings in
words like these:[63] ‘On Saturday last, such a scene was exhibited in
this metropolis, as we never expected to have lived to witness, and
having witnessed it, we care not how soon we resign our existence!
... a vile degraded rabble, miscalled Britons, took the horses
out of the carriage which contained the two French Citizens, Otto
and Lauriston--the latter of whom they mistook for the brother of
Buonaparte--and dragged it from Oxford Street to Downing Street; then
back through the Park, and, not content with taking the usual carriage
road, dragged it through the Mall, a place appropriated, exclusively,
as a carriage road, to the use of the ROYAL FAMILY!!!’

But Cobbett had good reason to be sore, for the mob had smashed the
windows of his dwelling-house in Pall Mall, and at his office in
Southampton Street, because he would not illuminate; so he takes his
revenge in a peculiar manner. ‘He did not know that there existed in
the country, any force whatever, to compel his Majesty’s subjects to
exhibit, at night, manifestations of joy at an event which, in the
morning, he had stated his reasons for believing to be a subject of
deep concern. But he has unfortunately found himself mistaken; and he
is, therefore, under the necessity of apprizing his readers, that,
until the principles of the British Constitution, and the laws of the
realm, which have ever been objects of his fervent admiration, and
most zealous support, can rise superior to the destructive rage of a
senseless and infuriate rabble; until he can derive that protection
from the Police of the Country, which every subject has a right to
claim, but which he has, hitherto, been unable to obtain; until, in
short, that “_tumult_ of exultation,” and that “_delirium_ of joy,”
which a Ministerial writer so emphatically described, and so earnestly
wished, might _increase_, shall have subsided, the publication of The
Porcupine will cease, and the mob be left to exercise their vengeance
on an empty office.’

But he did not long leave the populace thirsting for his utterances,
for the paper was resumed on October 15.

  At length all parties pleased to yield,
  A treaty was in London seal’d;
  And Nap with pleasure had to say
  That England own’d his Cons’lar sway.
  The Royalists were vex’d at this,
  They took the treaty much amiss;
  It seem’d (as for a time it was)
  Destructive of the Bourbon cause.
  This Amiens treaty, as ’twas termed
  Was in October month confirm’d;
  And London, tho’ so ill repaid,
  Illuminations grand display’d.



An unknown artist, probably Ansell, produced on October 26, 1801, a
caricature of ‘The Child and Champion of Jacobinism new Christened
(vide Pitt’s Speech).’ Bonaparte is bending over a font, which, is
supported by Egyptian sphinges, whilst a bishop calls out, ‘Name this
Child.’ Addington and Pitt are the godfathers, and Lord Hawkesbury is
the godmother. Pitt replies, ‘Deliverer of Europe and Pacificator of
the World.’ Addington says, ‘I hope he will abolish the Slave Trade’;
and the godmother mentions, ‘You need not say anything about the march
to Paris.’

Gillray (November 9, 1801) gives us a very elaborate picture of
‘Political Dreamings--Visions of Peace!--Perspective Horrors!’ Windham,
who was the leader of the war party, is asleep, and his dreams are full
of incident--too full, indeed, to recapitulate here. But the principal
scene in the sleeping man’s vision is Napoleon dragging to the
guillotine by a halter, Britannia, whose trident is broken, as, also is
her shield.

‘The Balance of Power,’ by Ansell (December 1, 1801), shows a pair of
scales, in which Bonaparte weighs down Pitt and the Lord Chancellor.
Pitt ruefully exclaims, ‘So this is the Balance of Power we have been
making such a fuss about--a pretty piece of business we have made of
it. Curse that sword of his, ’tis that has made us kick the Beam.’

Hostilities with France having ceased with the ratification of the
preliminaries of peace, there was but little caricaturing of Napoleon,
and none of an offensive character. Napoleon occupied his time in
attending to home affairs, as also did the British Government. But the
peace was not absolutely concluded, and much diplomatic wrangling took
place, as usual, before the Peace of Amiens was really signed on March
27, 1802. Its principal articles must be briefly enumerated here, as
they will be found of use in understanding forthcoming caricatures.


England restored to France, Spain, and Batavia, all the possessions
which had been occupied or conquered during the war, with the exception
of Trinidad and Ceylon. Malta was to be restored to the Order of
St. John of Jerusalem--the British troops to evacuate the island
within three months, or sooner; but Malta was to be independent, such
independence being guaranteed by the Great Powers, and the ports to
be open to the vessels of all nations, with the exception of those
belonging to the Barbary Powers. These are the principal articles
necessary for us to bear in mind.

Due credit was given to Bonaparte’s astuteness, and our
plenipotentiary, Lord Cornwallis, was considered no match for him.

The Caricature year of 1802 seems to open with one by Ansell (January
9), ‘A Game at Chess’ between Bonaparte and Lord Cornwallis. Bonaparte
says, ‘Check to your King. Remember this is not the first time, and I
think a very few Manœuvres more will compleatly convince you that I am
better acquainted with the Game I am playing, than you are aware of.’
Cornwallis, tearing his hair, exclaims, ‘Curse it, I shall lose this
game. You are too much for me.’

This was followed by another from the same pencil (February 8), called
‘Cross examination,’ where Lord Cornwallis is button-holing Bonaparte,
and saying, ‘There is great delay in our negociation comeing to a
conclusion, and I understand our People are very uneasy lest you should
be Humbugging us--Your fleet having sail’d, has given cause for many
conjectures, and to tell you the truth it puzzles me a little to know
what your intention is.’ Bonaparte’s reply is plain and simple, ‘I have
to tell you, Sir, that I do not desire to give you the information you
seem to wish for, and whether I sign or not, is of little consequence
to the Republican government; our fleet I am in hopes will pick up

In March 1802 Woodward produced a somewhat dreary picture called ‘The
National Institute’s first Interview with their President.’ Napoleon,
seated under a canopy, says to Sheridan, Fox, Bedford, and Burdett,
‘Gentlemen, you are welcome, and I invite you to the Honors of the
sitting.’ Sheridan, who is kneeling, holds a phial and box in his
hands, and begs that Napoleon will ‘Be pleased to accept some true
poetic Tincture, and a small Box of Pizarro[64] Pills.’ Fox, who has a
money bag under his arm, says, ‘I have brought a pound and a half of
Patriotism for your eminence.’ The Duke of Bedford opines that ‘He’ll
not be displeased with a few Bedford biscuits;’ and Burdett, with his
hair, as usual, combed over his eyes, refers to his present, ‘I have
brought him a Phial of Genuine Bastile Balsam.’

But when once the peace was signed, much show was made of shaking hands
and being friends. Englishmen went over to France in numbers; Frenchmen
reciprocated, but not to the same extent. This feeling is shown by the
caricaturist, for on April 14, 1802, was published (artist unknown) a
picture entitled ‘A Peaceable Pipe, or a Consular Visit to John Bull.’
Napoleon and John Bull are in amicable converse, smoking, and drinking
beer. John Bull says, ‘Here’s to you, Master Boney Party; come, take
another whiff, my hearty!’ To this hospitable invitation Napoleon
replies, ‘Je vous remercie, John Bull, I think I’ll take another pull.’
Mrs. Bull is hard at work mending John’s breeches, which are wofully
dilapidated: says she, soliloquising, ‘Now we are at Peace, if my
Husband does take a drop extraordinary I don’t much mind, but when he
was at war, he was always grumbling. Bless me, how tiresome these old
breeches are to mend; no wonder he wore them out, for he had always his
hands in his pockets for something or other.’

As before said, with the peace came mutual intercourse between England
and France, and there is a picture by Ansell (May 14, 1802), which
represents ‘A Trip to Paris, or Iohn Bull and his Spouse, invited to
the Honors of the Sitting!!’ Napoleon receives John Bull and Ireland,
and when seated, Napoleon addresses them thus: ‘Indeed, Mr. Bull, I am
quite charmed with you--there is something so easy and polite in your

John Bull, however, is not to be taken in by such palpable ‘_blarney_,’
and replies, ‘Come--come Mounseer Bonny party, that’s all gammon
d’ye see. D--n me if I know more about politeness than a Cow does
of a new shilling!!’ Ireland looks very angrily at her spouse, and
remonstrates: ‘For shame, Mr. Bull, what will the Jontleman think of
your Blarney about gammon and cows, and Bodder and nonsense; by St.
Patrick, I must send you to Kilkenny to larn good breeding.’

Some of these caricatures were rather dreary; take, for example, ‘The
Consular Warehouse or a Great Man nail’d to the Counter’ (Cawse,
May 20). Napoleon is keeping a shop, selling, among other things,
‘Preserved Promises, Pickled Piety from Rome, Oil of Lodi, Marengo
Olio, Bullet Bolusses advice gratis. N.B. One Pill is a dose, also
Islands for Home Consumption Martinique--St. Lucia.’ John Bull has
just bought two, paid for in good hard cash, and takes his goods
home with him. Under one arm he carries the ‘Island of Indemnity,
ci-devant Ceylon’--under the other is the ‘Island of Security,
ci-devant Trinidad.’ They hardly seem to be John Bull’s idea of a
bargain, for he is saying, ‘They be very light to be sure--but harkee,
my worthy,--you’ll not forget to carry on a little trade with the
Old Shop; if you don’t, you know, a Rowland for an Oliver, that’s
all.’ Napoleon, however, reassures him with ‘We’ll not talk of that
at present, Mr. Bull; all you have to do, is to take care of your new
Islands; mind you don’t tumble down, and break them, before you get
home--They are very brittle, but a very good article for all that.’

As the year grew older, the _entente cordiale_ grew colder. Suspicions
of Napoleon’s intentions were aroused, and Malta was not evacuated as
per treaty. One or two warning caricatures, stormy petrels, made their
appearance, and in the autumn of this year appeared ‘The Corsican
Conjurer raising the plagues of Europe.’ He is shewn with huge cocked
hat and an ample robe, which is held up by the Devil, who encourages
him, ‘That’s right my fine fellow--If you don’t kick up a pretty dust
in the world, never trust the Devil again--that’s all.’ Napoleon is
waving a rod over a caldron, in which are serpents, and a devil, the
steam from which is labelled, in different clouds, ‘Anarchy, Pride,
Murder, Confusion, Treason, War, Plunder, Revenge, Massacre, Avarice,
Cruelty, Usurpation, Hatred, Horror, Envy, Blasphemy, Malice, Craft,
Falsehood, and Terror.’

There is another one, ‘Parcelling out John Bull,’ which is a queer
conceit. Napoleon has a huge pair of Compasses, with which he is
measuring John Bull--congratulating himself that ‘He really will make a
pretty addition to my departments--he cuts out extremely well indeed.’
There is the Wig Department, Department of the Head, Arm Department,
Department of the Body, Fob Department, Breeches pocket Department,
Right and Left Leg Divisions. But John Bull assures his friend, in
no kindly spirit, ‘Harkee Young one, you have forgotten the Fist
Department, and if you don’t take away your d--d Compasses, I’ll give
you a relish of it. Cut me out, indeed! why, I’ll fight you with one
hand tied behind me.’ This caricature is neither signed nor dated, but
it was undoubtedly issued in the autumn of 1802.

We have seen that it was fashionable for Englishmen to run over to
France after the conclusion of peace, and Charles James Fox was no
exception to the rule; but he had to wait a little, until after the
Westminster election, when, on July 15, he was returned head of the
poll. He did not long delay the trip, and on July 29 he set out on
his journey, accompanied by his wife, the Hon. St. Andrew St. John
(afterwards Lord St. John) and a young Irishman named Trotter,[65] who
wrote an exhaustive account of their journey. On the 4th of August,
Napoleon had been elected Consul for life, a step which might probably
tend to consolidate peace, and which rendered his position equal to any
other European sovereign. When Fox reached Paris, it was rumoured that
this was only preliminary to his taking a higher rank, with the title
of Emperor of the Gauls. Just then, Englishmen were in great favour at
Paris, and Fox’s arrival created a great commotion. All vied with each
other to pay him attention, and it was settled he should be presented
to the First Consul at his next _levée_, which took place on September


Caricaturists, like poets, must needs be allowed some licence,
and Gillray (November 15), in his picture of the ‘Introduction of
Citizen Volpone,[66] and his Suite, at Paris,’ draws slightly upon
his imagination as to Napoleon’s state at this reception; still the
allegorical globes, and the introduction of Rûstan the Mameluke, add a
fictitious dignity to the picture.

The actual scene, as it was viewed by an eye-witness,[67] is thus
described: ‘We reached the interior apartment, where Buonaparte, First
Consul, surrounded by his generals, ministers, senators, and officers,
stood between the second and third Consuls, Le Brun and Cambacérès,
in the centre of a semicircle, at the head of the room! The numerous
assemblage from the _Salle des Ambassadeurs_, formed into another
semicircle, joined themselves to that, at the head of which stood the
First Consul.’


Gillray’s portrait of Charles James Fox is not very much exaggerated.
Let us hope that of Mrs. Fox is. This lady, although she was married to
Fox on September 28, 1795, was never introduced to his friends as his
wife until this journey. She was always believed to be his mistress,
Mrs. Armistead.[68] She made him a good and loving wife, and he was
very fond of her.

Trotter describes the actual presentation thus: ‘Buonaparte, of a
small, and by no means commanding figure, dressed plainly, though
richly, in the embroidered consular coat, without powder in his hair,
looked like a private gentleman, indifferent as to dress, and devoid
of all haughtiness in his air.... The moment the circle was formed,
Buonaparte began with the Spanish Ambassador, then went to the
American, with whom he spoke some time, and so on, performing his part
with ease, and very agreeably; until he came to the English Ambassador,
who, after the presentation of some English Noblemen, announced to him
Mr. Fox! He was a good deal flurried, and after indicating considerable
emotion, very rapidly said, “Ah! Mr. Fox! I have heard with pleasure of
your arrival--I have desired much to see you--I have long admired in
you the orator, and friend of his country, who in constantly raising
his voice for peace, consulted that country’s best interests--those of
Europe--and of the human race. The two great nations of Europe require
peace;--they have nothing to fear; they ought to understand and value
one another. In you, Mr. Fox, I see, with much satisfaction, that great
statesman who recommended Peace, because there was no just object of
war; who saw Europe desolated to no purpose, and who struggled for its

‘Mr. Fox said little, or rather, nothing, in reply,--to a complimentary
address to himself, he always found invincible repugnance to answer;
nor did he bestow one word of admiration or applause upon the
extraordinary and elevated character who addressed him. A few questions
and answers relative to Mr. Fox’s tour terminated the interview.’

Other caricaturists took the matter up, for Fox’s visit to Paris was
naturally commented on; and there is an engraving by Ansell (November
8, 1802), ‘English Patriots bowing at the Shrine of Despotism.’ These
‘Patriots’ are Fox, Erskine, and Combe, the brewer, who was Lord Mayor.
They are represented as bowing in the most lowly fashion--so low,
indeed, that Fox has burst his trousers behind; and with one voice
they assure Napoleon that they ‘are, with the highest consideration,
your Super Royal Consulship’s most Devoted, most Obsequious, and most
honored Servants.’ Bonaparte, seated in almost regal state, criticises
them: ‘Oh, from the World! O’Connor’s friends--Fox, ha! how old are
you? A Brewer; Lord Mayor, ha! great pomp. Mr. Brief, ha! a great
Lawyer can talk well. There, you may go.’

Thus we see they did not quite get hold of the right version of this
interview, as ‘Taking leave’ was satirised by a nameless artist
(November 12, 1802), and represents Fox bowing very humbly to the First
Consul, who is crowned with death’s-head and cross-bones, daggers,
pistols, and swords, and regards him in an extremely haughty manner.



In June, Lord Whitworth was appointed ambassador extraordinary, and
minister plenipotentiary, to the French Republic, and the state he
then kept up was a striking contrast to the plainness of Republican
equipages. It was different under the Empire; but then the word
Citizen had not been dropped, and there was a certain affectation of
simplicity. The English attracted great attention by the splendour
of their equipages, and there is a caricature (nameless, December
14, 1802) of ‘Lord Whitworth’s Coachman at Paris.’ His get-up is,
certainly, ‘exceeding magnifical,’ and is the wonder of the Parisians.
It is almost too much for his equanimity, for he is shown as saying,
‘How the Mounseers stare at me! D--n me, if I don’t think they take me
for the Ambassador.’

The effects of the peace were hardly realisable for a time, and
Woodward gives us an amusing caricature of the state of the empire
(December 20, 1802). It is called ‘A Peep at the Lion,’ which is
supposed to be on show. Outside the Exhibition Pitt is inviting Europe,
generally, to ‘Walk in Ladies and Gentlemen, and see the famous Lion.
Though I have some share in the concern, I have nothing to do with
showing him, I assure you--I am not his keeper; the Lion I used to show
was very fierce, but this is quite quiet and peaceable.’ Inside, the
Lion is shewn as lying down, but with one eye open, Napoleon patting
him on the head, saying, ‘Poor fellow, poor fellow, what a beautiful
Animal,--how sound he sleeps.’ But the Chancellor, Lord Eldon, warns
him, ‘You had better not be too free with him Sir, In case of an
accident. He is now asleep with one eye, and awake with the other.’


At the opening of the year 1803, although the storm clouds of war were
ominously gathering, yet all seemed peace. The English enjoyed the rare
treat of visiting France, and, generally, being of the better class,
were well received. The year opens in a kindly spirit with ‘The first
kiss these ten Years! or the meeting of Britannia and Citizen François’
(Gillray, January 1, 1803), which is a remarkably good caricature.
Britannia, owing to the peace, has grown prosperous, and stout; her
trident and shield are put away in a corner, and the portraits of
Napoleon and George the Third repose, in loving juxtaposition, on
the wall, intertwined with palm-branches. Says Citizen François (his
sword and cocked hat being laid aside), ‘Madame, permettez me to pay
my profound esteem to your engaging person! and to seal on your divine
Lips my everlasting attachment.’ Madame Britannia replies, ‘Monsieur,
you are so truly a well bred Gentleman! and tho’ you make me blush,
yet you kiss so delicately, that I cannot refuse you; tho’ I was sure
you would deceive me again!!!’

A most amusing picture (Gillray, January 1, 1803) is that called
‘German Nonchalance, or the vexation of Little Boney. vide the
Diplomatique’s late Journey through Paris.’ It represents the Austrian
ambassador being driven furiously through Paris, his luggage being
directed ‘à Londres.’





With the utmost _insouciance_, he is taking a pinch of snuff, calmly
regarding Napoleon, who is standing on some steps, and is in a fearful
rage. With arms and legs outstretched, and his hat fallen off, he yells
out, ‘Ha, diable! va t’en, Impertinent! va t’en! is dere von Man oh
Earth who not worship little Boney? Soldats! aux Armes! revenge! ah!
Sacre Dieu, je suis tout tremblant.’ The soldiers, however, although
preparing to draw their swords, do not appear to be particularly
anxious to avenge their insulted leader.

This incident arose from the Austrian minister neglecting to pay his
respects to the First Consul, whilst passing through Paris.

As an evidence of the uneasiness of public political feeling, take
the following. In January 1803 was published a caricature by Raymond,
called ‘Leap Frog.’ Napoleon has already jumped over the bowed backs of
Holland and Spain. The poor Dutchman exclaims, ‘He has left the Swiss
and Italians a Mile behind--and as for me he has knocked my hat off
and broken my pipe--pretty encouragement this to play at Leap-frog.’
The don ruefully says that ‘By St. Jago--my back is almost broken.’
Napoleon is now jumping over Hanover, who plaintively asks, ‘Why did
I submit to this?’ but the conqueror only says, ‘Keep down your head
Master Hanoverian, my next leap shall be over John Bull.’ But that
individual, who looks uncommonly belligerent, with clenched fists,
exclaims, ‘I’ll be d--d if you do Master Corsican.’

The English Government, seeing how Napoleon was aggrandising himself,
and seeing also that this country, alone, could save the liberty
of Europe, did not hurry to conform with the treaty of Amiens, and
surrender all the advantages gained by the late long struggle; and
although, with reluctance, the Cape, and other Batavian settlements,
were given up, excuses were always to be found for not evacuating Malta.

On January 25, Lord Whitworth and Talleyrand had an interview, and the
latter, after bitterly complaining of the licence of the British press,
which he said ought to be curbed, or suppressed, asked plainly what
were the intentions of the British Government with regard to Malta?
It is to this interview, probably, that the following caricature owed
its existence. How Cobbett lashed Addington, for his nepotism, in his
‘Annual Register’!!

‘The Evacuation of Malta’ (Gillray, February 9, 1803) is vividly,
almost too graphically, depicted. Ferocious little Bonaparte has hold
of poor frightened Addington by his necktie, and, by flourishing his
enormous sword, compels him to evacuate Malta, Egypt, Cape of Good
Hope, St. Domingo, Guadaloup, and Martinique. In vain Addington pleads,
‘Pray do not insist upon Malta! I shall certainly be turned out! and
I have a great many Cousins and Uncles and Aunts to provide for yet.’
But his merciless enemy will hear of no compromise, and yells out ‘All!
All! you Jean F--t--e! and think yourself well off that I leave you
Great Britain!!!’ A French officer mildly remonstrates, and suggests,
‘My General, you had better not get him turned out, for we shall not be
able to humbug them any more.’

Ansell executed an engraving (February 10, 1803) of the ‘Rival
Gardeners,’ which represents Napoleon, and George III., tending their
respective gardens, which are divided by the Channel. Napoleon has a
number of plants labelled ‘Military poppies,’ which flourish well; but
he is greatly concerned about his principal flower, which has a very
drooping head and flagging leaves. He cannot understand it. ‘Why, I
don’t know what is the reason; my Poppies flourish charmingly; but
this _Corona Imperialis_ is rather a delicate kind of a plant, and
requires great judgment in rearing.’ His rival, however, points with
pride to the sturdy British Oak, whose vigour is matchless, and is in
full bloom, with a royal crown. He replies, ‘No, No, Brother Gardener,
though only a ditch parts our grounds, yet this is the spot for true
Gardening; here the _Corona Britanica_ and y^e _Heart of Oak_ will
flourish to the end of the world.’

On March 8, the king sent a message to Parliament, respecting military
preparations in the ports of France and Holland, and acquaints the
House of Commons that ‘he has judged it expedient to adopt additional
measures of precaution for the security of his dominions;’ and this
gives us the key to the next caricature--

‘Physical Aid, or, Britannia recover’d from a Trance, also the
Patriotic Courage of Merry Andrew, and a peep thro’ the Fog,’ was
published by Gillray, March 14, 1803, and is a very amusing picture.
Bonaparte, and his flotilla, are crossing the Channel, and Sheridan,
with fool’s cap and bell, a tattered harlequin suit, a lathen sword,
‘Dramatic Loyalty,’ a shield with a Medusa’s head, the snaky hair
of which is labelled ‘Envy, abuse, bouncing, puffing, detraction,
stolen jests, malevolence, and stale wit,’ and a paper, in his sash,
endorsed ‘Ways and means to get a living,’ calls out, ‘Let ’em come!
dam’me!!! Where are the French Buggabos? single-handed I’d beat forty
of ’em!!! dam’me I’d pay ’em like Renter’s shares, sconce off their
half-crowns!!! mulct them out of their benefits, and come y^e Drury
Lane Slang over ’em.’

[Illustration: ‘A THEATRICAL HERO.’]

Britannia, suddenly aroused from her trance, screams out, ‘Doctors
and ministers of disgrace defend me,’ and attempts to rise. Addington
is attempting to recover her, by holding a bottle of gunpowder to
her nose, saying ‘Do not be alarm’d, my dear Lady! The Buggabos (the
Honest Gentlemen, I mean) are avowedly directed to Colonial service,
they can have nothing to do Here, my lady--nothing to do with US! do
take a sniff or two to raise your Spirits, and try to stand, if it is
only upon one leg.’ Lord Hawkesbury is presenting, in a feeble manner,
to Britannia, her spear--with broken point, and her shield, which is
sadly cracked, and bleats forth, ‘Yes, my lady, you must try to stand
up, or we shall never be able to march to Paris.’ Fox, who is wilfully
screening his face with his hat, exclaims, ‘Dear me--what can be the
reason of the old lady being awaked in such a fright? I declare I can’t
see anything of the Buggabos!’ On the ground lies the treaty of peace

On March 13, Napoleon behaved in a very rude, and intemperate, manner
to Lord Whitworth respecting the non-evacuation of Malta--which scene
is thus versified:--

  Our hero now, with great chagrin,
  Begg’d of Lord Whitworth to call in.
  Agreeably to his request,
  Th’ Ambassador became his guest,
  And in the Cab’net of the Thuilleries,
  Napoleon play’d off all his fooleries.
  ‘What is the cause,’ he cried, ‘of this?
  How comes it England acts amiss?
  I swear that every provocation,
  Daily augments my indignation;
  Why are these libels to annoy me,
  Pensioned assassins to destroy me?
  Why Malta’s non-evacuation,
  And Alexandria, by your nation?
  You’d fain keep Malta--I believe you,
  But part of France I’d rather give you.
  Why all these provocations? why o’ late,
  The Amiens treaty dare to violate?’
  Nap ask’d so many questions now,
  That not an answer he’d allow.
  Lord Whitworth moved his lips, but then
  Our hero wagged his tongue again.
  It seems Lord Whitworth wish’d to say,
  France for infringements led the way;
  But when that she was pleased to stop,
  And all her base aggressions drop,
  The treaty England would fulfil,
  For that, indeed, was England’s will.
  In spite of Nap’s vociferation,
  His Lordship made this observation:
  ‘My sovereign’s actions ne’er have been
  Insidious, treacherous, or mean,
  Because it is the king’s desire
  More to _preserve_ than to _acquire_.’



‘The Political Cocks’ (by Ansell, March 27, 1803) is very graphic.
Napoleon, a game cock armed with terrific spurs, is calling across
the Channel to Pitt, who, standing on the British Crown, is crowing
lustily. Napoleon says, ‘Eh Master Billy, if I could but take a flight
over this brook, I would soon stop your Crowing. I would knock you off
that Perch, I swear by Mahomet, the Pope, and all the Idols I have ever
worshipped.’ Pitt, however, replies, ‘Tuck-a-roo--too--that you never
can do!!!’

[Illustration: THE POLITICAL COCKS.]

This was a fine time for the caricaturists, and their works came thick
and fast. Telling their own tale, they need no explanation. ‘An Attempt
to swallow the World’ (artist unknown, April 6, 1803) shows Napoleon
attempting this difficult feat--John Bull looking on, and remarking,
‘I’ll tell you what, Mr. Boneypartee, when you come to a little spot I
have in my eye, it will stick in your throat and choak you.’

West (April 6, 1803) engraved ‘John Bull teased by an Earwig.’
Napoleon, drawn very small, is on John Bull’s shoulder, pricking his
cheek with his little sword. This annoys the old man, and, looking
up angrily from his meal of bread (Ceylon), and cheese (Malta), he
says, ‘I tell you what, young one--if you won’t let me eat my bread
and cheese in peace and comfort, I’ll blow you away, you may depend
upon it.’ To which the _Earwig_ replies, ‘I will have the Cheese, you
Brute, you; I have a great mind to annihilate you, you great overgrown

‘Easier to say than to do’ (I. Cruikshank, April 14, 1803) shows
Bonaparte seated before a _New Map of the World_, attempting to erase
the British Isles. A Dutchman, with a lighted candle, suggests, ‘Got
for d--n de ting--here take te candle, and burn tem out.’ On the other
side, a Spaniard says, ‘Here, my friend, take the paste-brush, and
stick a piece of your three-coloured flag over them.’ Whilst a Jew,
who has a label coming out of his pocket, ‘Subscription to new loan,’
says, ‘I tink if I lend a little more monish at Turty per shent, it
will soon annihilate dem.’ Bonaparte reflects: ‘I cannot scrape these
little islands out of the map. As for your plan, Mynheer, we did try to
burn them once, but they would not take fire; and let me tell you, Don
Diego, they are not so easily overrun with any flag as you may think!
I believe Moses’s plan the best; that, and a threat now and then may
probably do the business.’

‘An Attempt to undermine John Bull, or working through the Globe’
(Roberts, April 16, 1803), shows Napoleon standing on ruins,
surrounded by ‘Territories pickaxed with impunity’--Switzerland,
Italian Republic, Batavian Republic; and he is now commencing
operations with his pickaxe on John Bull, saying, ‘O, the Pick axe
is infinitely the best way--I shall soon be at the little fellow,
that’s his abode, I know it by the white cliffs.’ John Bull is lying
down, sword in hand, with his ear on the ground, and says, ‘I hear you
burrowing away, my fine fellow; but it won’t do.--As soon as you pop
your head above the surface, you shall be saluted with a few of John
Bull’s pop-guns.’

Another caricature (artist unknown, April 16, 1803), called ‘A stoppage
to a Stride over the Globe,’ shows a colossal Napoleon bestriding the
World, whilst a small John Bull, on England, is hacking at his foot,
with a sword. Napoleon, in disgust, is calling out, ‘Ah! who is it
dares to interrupt me in my progress?’ ‘Why, ’tis I, little Johnny
Bull, protecting a little spot I clap my hand on, and d--n me if you
come any farther--that’s all.’

Ansell, too, the same date (April 16, 1803), drew ‘The Governor of
Europe, Stoped in his career, or Little B----n too much for great
B----te.’ Here a huge Bonaparte has attempted to put his foot on
Britain, and John Bull has cut it off. Napoleon, dancing with pain and
loss of blood, drops his sword, yells out, ‘Ah, you tam John Bull!!
You have spoil my _Dance_!! You have ruined all my Projets.’ Little
John Bull, pointing to his native land, says, ‘I ax pardon, Master
Boney, but as we says, _Paws off, Pompey_, we keep this little spot to
ourselves, you must not dance here Master Boney.’

Rowlandson (May 1, 1803), brought out ‘John Bull listening to the
quarrels of State affairs.’ Napoleon is talking to the Chancellor,
and says, ‘And so--if you do _so_, I do _so_.’ The Chancellor, in an
evident fright, exclaims tremulously, ‘Oh! Oh!!’ whilst old John Bull
looks on, listening, all eyes and expectation, with his hair on end,
‘I declare my very wig stands on end with curiosity. What can they be
quareling about? O that I could but be let into the secret! If I ax
our gentleman concerning it, it is ten to one if he tells me the right


On May 2, 1803, Gillray produced a very effective caricature called
‘Doctor Sangrado curing John Bull of Repletion, with the kind offices
of young Clyster pipe[70] and little Boney. A hint from Gil Blas.’
John Bull is seated, very weak indeed, held up by Lord Hawkesbury. Fox
and Sheridan are behind, bringing warm water, and everybody in the
drawing is exhorting the patient to ‘Courage.’ Addington is performing
the operation, and the blood streams forth copiously. Napoleon catches
in his cocked hat, Ceylon, Malta, Cape of Good Hope, and West Indies;
whilst young Clyster pipe holds out his hat, labelled ‘Clerk of the
Pells,’ and catches a stream ‘3,000_l._ per annum.’ This scandalous
job, his father having given him this lucrative sinecure when he was
very young, excited much adverse comment at the time.

‘Britannia repremanding a Naughty Boy!’ (artist unknown, May 3, 1803).
Britannia, with a helmet on her head, her shield by her side, a spear
in one hand, and a birch rod in the other, stands on the shore at
Dover. On the top of the cliffs is a crown on a cushion. Napoleon,
attired, as usual, in an enormous cocked hat, stands on the shore at
Calais, whimpering, ‘I’m tired of this great hat, I will have that
crown.’ But says Britannia: ‘Stay where you are, you little troublesome
Urchin. If once you cross the Dyke you’ll get a good birchin!’

‘Lunar Speculations’ is the whimsical title of a picture by Ansell,
May 3, 1803. Bonaparte is looking through a large telescope, mounted
on a tripod, at the moon; and he is saying: ‘I wonder the Idea never
struck me before! The place would easily be taken, and has undoubtedly
great capabilities--Besides they would make me Emperor:--and then, the
sound of the Title EMPEROR OF THE FULL MOON--oh! delightful! I’ll send
for Garner[71] and his balloons and set about the scheme immediately.’
John Bull, looking at him quizzically, and holding his very fat sides,
says: ‘What! going to revolutionize the Moon, Bonny? That’s a good one,
however--To be sure, you talk’d of paying a visit to my little island,
and one should certainly be as easily accomplished as the other.’

The situation was getting more strained daily, and Napoleon did not
mend matters by his studied discourtesy to Lord Whitworth.

         *       *       *       *       *

  ‘Indeed,’ said Whitworth, ‘you mistake,
  We wish a lasting peace to make.’
  ‘Pay more respect to treaties, then,’
  Cried Nap, and raised his voice again;
  ‘What use are treaties?--all my eye--
  If violated--fie--oh fie--
  What use are treaties? woe to those
  Who don’t respect them--they’re my foes;
  Yes, they’re my foes--I tell you flat,
  And I don’t value them--not that.’
  This said, his argument to back,
  He with his fingers gave a crack,

         *       *       *       *       *

  The Company were all ashamed,
  And his indelicacy blamed;
  His manners were so ungenteel,
  That each now turn’d upon his heel.
    England’s Ambassador was bent
  The Consul’s conduct to resent.
  He sent a note of all that pass’d
  From the beginning to the last,
  Then sought for passports, as advis’d;
  At this the Consul was surpris’d;
  But England now was irritated,
  For in the _Moniteur_ ’twas stated,
  That she could never, single handed,
  Contend with France--so he demanded
  His passports--likewise he averr’d,
  That war, he to suspense, preferr’d.
  His lordship’s wish they strove t’ evade,
  The passports daily were delay’d.
  Lord Whitworth, soon as they were granted,
  Set off for London, as he wanted.

By way of parenthesis, I may say that Napoleon made loud complaint
about the libels published about him in England; and, to show the
impartiality of the Government, and their desire to do justice, even at
a time when war between the two countries was almost morally certain,
a Frenchman, named Jean Peltier, was prosecuted for libelling him, the
indictment being ‘That peace existed between N. Bonaparte and our Lord
the King; but that M. Peltier, intending to destroy the friendship
so existing, and to despoil said Napoleon of his consular dignity,
did devise, print, and publish, in the French Language, to the tenor
following, &c.’

It is never worth while to go into the words of the libel (which
appeared in a periodical called _L’Ambigu_), which is purely political,
and which would never be noticed nowadays. I only introduce the episode
to shew that the English Government even went out of their way to
conciliate Bonaparte, and that the libel, as usual, sprang from French

He was unanimously found guilty, and judgment was to have been
delivered next term, but, war being renewed, he was never called upon
to appear.



Now came the _ultimatums_ on both sides. The presentation of an
_ultimatum_ is hardly a personal caricature of Napoleon, but it belongs
to the history of the times. One picture was published May 3, 1803,
by an unknown artist, and was called ‘Waste Paper.’ A French officer
holds four _ultimatums_ in his hand, and presents John Bull with
No. 1. A servant, behind, carries a huge sack of _ultimatums_. The
Frenchman thus speaks: ‘Monsieur Jean Bull, I am come from De Grand
Nation to present you vone _Ultimatum_. If you not like dat--I present
you vone oder--I have got seventy tree Tousand _Ultimatum_, and you
must agree to vone or de oder--or, begar, I sal kick you out of de
Europe. My lacquey has got Dem in de Sac, and will leave dem for your
consideration. Health and Fraternity, Citizen Bull!’ John Bull uplifts
his cudgel, and his bulldog growls. Says the old man, ‘Hark ye, Mr.
Frog! I was just feeling in my pocket, for a little bit of waste paper,
and you have just supplied me in time: so now get you gone, or I’ll
shew you the use of my Horns, by tossing you out of old ENGLAND.’

But this giving of _ultimatums_ was not all on one side. I. Cruikshank
(May 14, 1803) drew ‘Ultimatum, or the Ambassador taking proper steps.’
Our ambassador[72] is just stepping into his carriage, and, whilst
doing so, presents Napoleon with an _ultimatum_, saying, with national
courtesy, ‘Be quick, or d-- me I’m off.’ Napoleon is depicted as being
deeply affected by this conduct. He weeps copiously, and wrings his
hands, whimpering, ‘Pray stop, and I will agree to anything.’

There is a caricature by an artist unknown (May 18, 1803), called ‘The
Bone of Contention,’ which is labelled MALTA. Bonaparte, looking very
fierce, menaces John Bull with his sword, exclaiming ‘By the Bridge
of Lodi! by the plains of Marengo!! by everything that is great and
terrible--I command you to surrender that bone!!!!’ John Bull, however,
has set his foot upon that bone, and is prepared to defend it with his
oaken cudgel. He laconically replies ‘You be d--d.’

This subject was also treated by Ansell (June 14, 1803) in ‘The Bone
of Contention, or the English Bulldog and the Corsican Monkey.’ The
monkey, in a fearful and wonderful cocked hat, calls out, ‘Eh! you Bull
Dog, vat you carry off dat Bone for? I vas come to take dat myself. I
vas good mind to lick you, but for dem Dam Tooths.’ Whilst John Bull,
typified as a bulldog, has the bone, Malta, firmly between his teeth,
and growls defiance.

Lord Whitworth left Paris on May 12, and arrived at Dover on the
17th,[73] where he met General Andreossi, the French minister, on
the point of returning to France. On the 18th, George III. sent his
Declaration of War to both Houses of Parliament, and Nelson hoisted his
flag on board the _Victory_, at Portsmouth, the same day. Thus ended a
peace which had existed only one year and sixteen days.

Of course, the caricatures were, necessarily, prepared a day or two
before their publication, so the dates do not depend upon the events
which took place. Such an one is ‘Armed Heroes,’ Gillray, May 18,
1803, which is amusing. It is Addington who is bestriding the Roast
Beef of Old England. Lord Hawkesbury sits behind him; whilst the
two other figures respectively represent Hely Addington and Bragge
Bathurst, who were members of the Addington family, and had been
provided with good places by their powerful relative.

Napoleon looks with hungry eyes on the beef, and exclaims:--

  Ah, ha! sacrè dieu! vat do I see yonder?
  Dat look so invitingly Red and de Vite?
  Oh by Gar! I see ’tis de Roast Beef of Londres
  Vich I vill chop up, at von letel bite!

[Illustration: ARMED HEROES.]

Addington is in a curious state of mind, between bluster and fear,
calling out, ‘Who’s afraid? damme?--_O Lord, O Lord,--what a Fiery
Fellow he is!_--Who’s afraid? damme?--_O dear! what will become of y^e
Roast Beef?_ Damme! who’s afraid?--_O dear!--O dear!_’

The medicine bottles peeping out of his pockets are a delicate allusion
to Addington’s parentage, his father having been a physician.

The caricatures which follow are simply dated May; but, from their
internal evidence, they precede the declaration of war. Bonaparte
is represented as being excessively frightened at the prospect of a
rupture with England, and, in May 1803, an etching (artist unknown)
was produced, shewing ‘A Little Man Alarmed at his own Shadow.’ He is
cowering, and trembling, and looking back at his lengthened shadow on a
wall, saying ‘Mercy on us--what tall figure is that. It surely can’t be
Johnny Bull? No, no, that cannot be, it is not lusty enough for him.’

A very graphic caricature is ‘Maniac Ravings, or Little Boney in
a strong Fit. Vide Lord W----’s[74] account of a visit to the
Thuilleries.’ Here he is depicted in a fearful state of frenzy; he has
kicked over the consular chair, a globe (with all Europe expunged,
except the British Isles), dashed his hat to the ground, upset a table,
with all his writings on it, broken his sword and scabbard; and, whilst
tearing his hair, stamps frantically on such papers as ‘Wyndham’s
Speeches,’ ‘Cobbett’s Weekly Journal,’ Anti-Jacobin Review,’ ‘Wilson’s
Egypt,’ &c. His ‘Maniac Ravings’ are veritably so. ‘Oh Egypt, Egypt,
Egypt! Oh, St. Domingo, Oh! Oh, the liberty of the English Press!
English Bloodhounds! Wyndham! Grenville! Pitt! Oh I’m murdered! I’m
assassinated!! London Newspapers! Oh! Oh! Oh! Revenge! Revenge! come
Fire! Sword! Famine! Invasion! Invasion! Four Hundred and Eighty
Frenchmen! British Slavery and everlasting Chains! everlasting Chains!
O Diable! the Riches! Freedom! and Happiness of the British Nation!
Ah! Diable, Diable, Diable! Malta! Malta! Malta! Oh, cursed Liberty of
the British Press! Insolence of British Parliament! Treaty of Amiens!
Damnation! British trade and commerce! Oh! Oh! Oh! English calumniating
Newspapers! Oh, Sebastiani! Sebastiani! Oh, Georges! Arras! de Rolle!
Dutheil! O Assassins! Treason! Treason! Treason! Hated and Betray’d
by the French! Despised by the English! and laughed at by the whole
world!!! Oh, English Newspapers!!! English Newspapers!!!! English

Woodward drew a picture (May 1803) of ‘A great Man Intoxicated with
Success,’ and depicted Boney with a very ‘how came you so?’ expression
of countenance, reeling along, and saying, ‘Ah Johnny Bull, how are
you my Boy--I am going to re-establish slavery--I am grown very Pious.
I--I--I’ll double my guards. I--I--I don’t know what I’ll do.’ John
Bull is utterly astonished at such conduct. ‘Why, bless your heart, my
fine fellow, you be Muzzy--I dare say you find it difficult to stand.
Now, let me advise you--take a little Nap--if it’s only for a quarter
of an hour, you can’t think how much it will refresh you.’

Another caricature, apparently by Woodward, was published in May
1803, ‘Bonaparte and the Quaker.’ Bonaparte’s attitude is decidedly
aggressive and bullying: ‘So they are all Great Men in your Country,
eh!--but I suppose they are like you--not very fond of fighting--is not
that the case Master Quaker?’ Brother Broadbrim replies, ‘Little Man,
it is not the case. I myself encourage not fighting. But if thou, or
any of thy Comrades, darest to cross the great waters, my Countrymen
shall make _Quakers_ of you all.’

The national feeling was well expressed in a caricature (May
1803)--Bonaparte is represented as a mighty mushroom, looking, with no
very benign expression of countenance, on John Bull, who, embracing the
British Oak, exclaims, ‘You may look as cross as you please, master
Mushroom: but here stands the British Oak, and by St. George and the
Dragon, not a leaf of it shall fall to the Ground.’

On May 28, George III., as Elector of Hanover, issued a proclamation,
in which he said that, abiding by the treaty of Luneville, he would,
as Elector of Hanover, take no part in the war. But, notwithstanding
this, the Electorate of Hanover surrendered, by capitulation, to
General Mortier on June 3. This prologue is necessary for us to
understand the following halfpenny broadside:--



_A faint Description of the Atrocities committed by the French in that

    It will be remembered, that the Electorate surrendered
    without Resistance. This we do not mention, as increasing our
    Compassion for the Inhabitants, which it certainly does not;
    but as increasing our abhorrence of the Invaders, who, without
    Provocation, or Pretext of Resistance, have perpetrated the
    Atrocities, of which the following is a faint outline:

    Ever since the Conquest, the whole Electorate has been a
    scene of Pillage and Butchery, which is said to yield only to
    the fate of Switzerland, in Spring 1798. The French Soldiers
    have the most unbounded Indulgence of their ruling passions
    of Rapacity, Cruelty and Lust;--_In the City of Hanover, and
    even in the Public Street, Women of the Highest Rank have been
    violated by the lowest of that brutal Soldiery, in presence of
    their Husbands and Fathers, and subjected, at the same time, to
    such additional and undescribable Outrages, as the brutal Fury
    of the Violators, enflamed by Drunkenness, could contrive._ We
    have seen the names of some of these unfortunate Ladies: but
    the Honour of their Families, and the Peace of their own future
    Lives (if they can have peace) forbid us to publish them. The
    Baron de K----, a well known partisan of French Philosophy
    and Politics, went to the Commandant of Hanover, and claimed
    his Protection, as an admirer of the French Revolution! but
    he found no more favour in the Sight of the _Aga of Sultan_
    BONAPARTE’S Janisaries, than the most loyal _Noblemen in
    Hanover_. The French Officer told him, ‘_All that Jacobinism
    is now out of Fashion--Go about your business!_’ Nor have we
    heard that the Philosophers of Gottingen, the Enthusiasts
    of _Equality and Perfectability_, have been at all better

    Such are the tender Mercies of the Wicked! Such are the Gangs
    of ferocious Banditti, whom the MURDERER OF JAFFA let loose on
    the civilized World! Such, and ten thousand times worse, is
    the Fate prepared _for England, if the valour of her people do
    not avert it; for England will assuredly be more oppressed, in
    proportion as she is more dreaded, envied, and hated_. To shew
    any symptom of Neutrality in such a Cause, not to support it
    OF ENGLAND; and the poorest honest Labourer, who has a Mother,
    or a Sister, a Wife, or a Daughter, has, in truth, as much
    reason as the highest Duke in the Land to detest the Traitor.
    Englishmen think of this and profit by Example.

These were the kind of handbills (of which there are hundreds in
variety) which were circulated, to arouse and stimulate martial fire
and patriotic ardour in the Britannic mind. Their name is Legion, and I
have had to read them all, in order to pick out the examples given in
this book. They are curious, and help us, more than any other history,
to gauge the temper of the times. It was a veritable scare. Hardly
having felt any of the benefits of peace, the English were once more
involved in war, with the almost certainty, this time, of having their,
hitherto almost inviolate, islands invaded by the French. We can hardly
wonder, therefore, at the hearty hatred our forefathers felt for the
‘Corsican Ogre,’ to whom all this turmoil was due; and, to do them
justice, they did hate him with a thoroughly genuine detestation--so
much so, that they did not always scrupulously investigate the truth
of some of the very questionable statements dished up for them (and
they were highly spiced). There can be no manner of doubt but that
these broadsides and handbills, together with the caricatures, had the
desired effect in rousing the nation to a fervid patriotism, and, as
they did so, it is perhaps hardly right to question the legality of
their statements, but accept them according to the doctrine that ‘the
end justifies the means.’



On June 10, 1803, Gillray published an extra-sized picture of ‘French
Invasion--or Buonaparte Landing in Great Britain.’ The French fleet
is nearing land, and boats, full of armed men, are putting off.
Bonaparte, and a large body of troops, including cavalry, have landed;
but, before they can scale the cliffs, and are yet on the shore, a few
artillerymen, with two guns, have utterly routed them. It is _Sauve qui
peut_. Napoleon, joining in the flight, throws away his sword; the army
is utterly demoralised, the ground being strewn with dead.

I. Cruikshank drew a not very interesting caricature, (June 10, 1803)
of ‘The Scarecrow’s arrival, or Honest PAT giving them an Irish
Welcome.’ Napoleon, as a skeleton, is leading an army of skeletons,
who are wading through the sea. He is just putting his foot on the
shore, and, to encourage his troops, calls out, ‘Now, my boys, halloo
away--vil frighten Mr. Bull out of his wits, we vil make them quake
like the Dutch, the Italian, the Swiss, and the rest of our Friends.’
But a sturdy Irishman receives them with a shovelfull of mud in their
faces. ‘Och it is your own pratty figure it is, Master Bonny, d’ye
think that Pat was to be blarney’d by such Scare Crows. No, no, Bother,
the time is gone by: Pat’s Eyes are wide open, and, look ye, if you
don’t immediately jump into the Sea to save your lives, I will shovel
you all there to save mine.’

Here is a stirring appeal to the army:--


_Defenders of your_ COUNTRY.

    The road to glory is open before you.--Pursue the great
    career of your forefathers, and rival them in the field of
    honour. _A proud and usurping_ TYRANT (a name ever execrated
    by Englishmen) dares to _threaten our shores with_ INVASION,
    _and to reduce the free born Sons of Britain to_ SLAVERY _and_
    SERVITUDE. Forgetting what English Soldiers are capable of,
    and ranking them with the hirelings of the powers who have
    fallen his prey on the Continent, he supposes his threat easily
    executed. _Give him a lesson, my brave Countrymen, that he
    will not easily forget, and that France may have by heart, for
    a Century to come!_ Neither the vaunting Hero (who deserted
    his own Comrades and Soldiers in Egypt), nor the French Army,
    have ever been able to cope with British valour when fairly
    opposed to it. Our Ancestors declared that ONE ENGLISHMAN _was
    ever a match for_ THREE FRENCHMEN--and that man to man was too
    great odds in our favour. We have but to feel their sentiments,
    to confirm them--you will find that their declaration was
    founded on experience; and that even in our day, within these
    three years, an army of your brave Comrades has convinced its
    admiring Country, that the balance is still as great as ever,
    against the enemy. Our EDWARD, _the illustrious Black Prince,
    laid waste the country of France, to the Gates of Paris, and,
    on the Plains of Cressy, left 11 Princes and 30,000 men dead
    upon the Field of Battle--a greater number than the whole
    English Army boasted at the beginning of the action_. The
    same heroic Prince, having annihilated the Fleet of France,
    _entirely routed her Army at Poictiers, took her King prisoner,
    and brought him Captive to London, with thousands of his Nobles
    and People, and all this against an Army_ SIX TIMES AS NUMEROUS
    AS THAT OF THE ENGLISH! Did not our Harry the Fifth invade
    France, and at Agincourt _oppose an Army of 9,000 men, sickly,
    fatigued, and half starved, to that of the French, amounting
    to 50,000_; and did he not leave 10,000 of the enemy dead upon
    the field, and take 14,000 prisoners, with the loss of only 400

    Have we not, within this century, to boast a MARLBOROUGH, who,
    (besides his other victories) at Blenheim slew 12,000 of the
    French, and made 14,000 Prisoners, _and in less than a month
    conquered 300 miles of Territory from the Enemy_? Did not the
    gallant WOLFE, in the year 1759, gain the Heights of Abraham
    with a handful of British Troops, and, afterwards, _defeat the
    whole French Army, and gain possession of all Canada, &c._?

    And are not the glories of our ABERCROMBY _and the Gallant_
    ARMY _of_ EGYPT fresh in your minds? _An Army of 14,000
    Britons, who landed in the face of upwards of 20,000 troops of
    France_, and drove from a country, with whose strongholds they
    were acquainted, and whose resources they knew how to apply, a
    host of Frenchmen, enured to the Climate, and Veterans in arms?
    _Did they not cut in pieces that vaunted Corps of Buonaparte’s,
    whose successes against other Powers had obtained for it the
    appellation of_ INVINCIBLE--And is not their Standard (all that
    is left of it) a trophy, at this moment, in our Capital?

    _The Briton fights for his Liberty and Rights_, the Frenchman
    fights for _Buonaparte_, who has robbed him of both! Which,
    then, in the nature of events, will be most zealous, most
    active, and most terrible in the Field of Battle? the
    independent supporter of his country’s cause, or the Slave
    who trembles lest the arms of his comrades should be turned
    against himself; who knows that his Leader, his General, his
    _Tyrant_, _did not hesitate, after having_ MURDERED _4,000
    disarmed Turks, in cool blood, to_ POISON _300 of his own
    sick Soldiers, of men who had been fighting his battles of
    ambition, and been wounded in his defence_--English Soldiers
    will scarcely credit this, but it is on record, not to be
    doubted, never to be expunged. But more; read and blush for
    the depravity even of an enemy. It is not that these bloody
    deeds have been perpetrated from necessity, from circumstances
    however imperious at the moment; they were the acts of cool and
    deliberate determination, and his purpose, no less sanguinary,
    is again declared in the event of success in his enterprise
    against this Country. Feeling that even the slavish followers
    of his fortune were not to be forced to embark in this ruinous
    and destructive expedition, he declares to them, in a public
    proclamation, or decoy, that _when they have landed in this
    Country, in order to make the booty the richer_, NO QUARTER
    _shall be given to the_ BASE ENGLISH _who fight for their
    perfidious Government--that they shall be_ PUT TO THE SWORD,
    _and their Property distributed among the Soldiers of the
    Victorious Army_!!! Say, is this the conduct of a Hero? is this
    the man who is destined to break the spirit of Englishmen?
    _shall we suffer an_ ASSASSIN _to enter our blessed Country,
    and despoil our fields of their produce--to massacre our brave
    Soldiers in cool blood, and hang up every man who has carried
    arms?_ Your cry is vengeance for the insult--and Vengeance is
    in your own hands. It must be signal and terrible! Like the
    bolt from Heaven, let it strike the devoted Army of Invaders!
    _Every Frenchman will find his Grave where he first steps on
    British ground, and not a Soldier of Buonaparte’s boasted
    Legions shall escape the fate his ambitious Tyrant has prepared
    for him!_


    Or your Fame is for ever blasted,--Your Liberties for ever

This is very bombastic and ‘high-falutin,’ but Englishmen were in a
very grievous fright, nevertheless.

Still harping on the prospect of a French landing, we have a caricature
by T. West (June 13, 1803) of ‘Britannia correcting an Unruly Boy.’
Britannia has got Boney across her knee, and, having taken down his
breeches, is administering such a sound castigation with a birch rod,
called the _United Kingdom_, as to bring forth copious streams of
blood. Needless to say, our hero is repentant, and prays ‘Oh forgive
me this time and I never will do so again. Oh dear! Oh dear! you’ll
entirely destroy the _Honors of the Sitting_.’ But the stern matron
still keeps on, with ‘There take that, and that, and that, and be more
careful not to provoke my anger more.’

We have an illustration of the homely proverb of ‘Set a beggar on
horseback &c.,’ in ‘The Corsican Beggar Riding to the Devil,’ by Ansell
(June 15, 1803). Here we have Hell treated in the mediæval manner, a
huge, grotesque, dragon-like head, with outstretched jaws, vomiting
flames. Napoleon, on a white charger, hugging himself with the idea
that ‘Sure they will make me Emperor,’ is riding straight to it; whilst
two devils are in a high state of jubilation.’ One opines that ‘He is
sure to come; we will finish your ambition,’ the other politely calls
out, ‘Shew him in.’ Ireland asks John Bull, ‘Hey Johnny, who’s that?’
and gets as a reply, ’Tis Boney going Post, brother Pat.’ The Gallic
Cock, crowing on its dunghill, screams, ‘This is nothing new.’

Here is a passionate appeal, supposed to come from one of the softer


    It is said that some of you are so discontented, that you would
    join the Enemies against your Country--Is it possible that you
    are so misled as to believe that the Enemies to England would,
    whatever they pretend, be friends _to you_. Be assured, if
    you are so persuaded, that you are grossly imposed upon. What
    should make them your friends--What ties should bind them?
    Think a little--and a very little proper reflection will be
    sufficient to make you see, that the Invaders of your Country,
    in their hearts, hate the inhabitants of it; and will, in the
    end, themselves betray the Traitors to it.

    The Invaders would nearly desolate your Country--and if
    Provisions are dear now, what would they be when numberless
    stacks of hay and corn were burnt--the cattle destroyed, and
    a horrid legion of desperate, faithless, lawless Invaders, to
    be maintained? who would trample upon every tie, break all
    promises, make _tools_ of you first, but soon sacrifice your
    wives, your daughters, your families, and yourselves, when you
    have served their purpose. If any few among you were guilty of
    plunder, you would, yourselves, soon be plundered and destroyed.

    It has been the necessity of defending our country against its
    enemies that has made provisions dear; but your wages have been
    increased in proportion--and though you may sometimes, in the
    course of events, suffer some hardships, as _everybody_, in
    their turn, must do, you may, unless it be your own faults,
    enjoy the greatest comforts--a peaceable home--a happy
    family--a quiet country, whose trade and consequence is envied
    by all the world--plentiful harvests--a government which
    respects you, and that your forefathers would have defended
    with the last drop of their blood--you have an excellent and
    lawful King, who will protect you; and above all, you may have
    a blessing from God, who will reward you hereafter if you do
    your duty _here_. But from an Usurper, and Invader, you can
    have nothing to expect, but the being slaves to his lawless
    schemes for power. Let who will tell you the contrary, he
    comes only for plunder, and revenge, upon the only nation he
    fears. Will you be his instruments, his tools? Can you, as
    Englishmen, lower yourselves in such a manner--to such a mean
    Usurper? Heaven, from the beginning, intended you should have
    Kings and superiors--Equality was never intended--it never can
    be, on this earth--Heaven and reason forbid it--and Bonaparte,
    himself, has shewn you how little he intended to establish it.
    Your forefathers call to you from their graves--their warning
    voice tells you, that you would soon find the perfidy of his
    heart. The wretched condition you would bring yourselves and
    your families into, you would repent too late--deprived of
    every friend, but sure of ample punishment here, and hereafter.

    People of England! Sons of my beloved glorious Country! You
    are now called upon by the women of your Country to protect
    them--Can you refuse to hear us? Can you bear the thought of
    not only seeing _us_ used with insult and barbarity,--of seeing
    your country bleed at every pore, but of being the occasion of
    these dreadful evils, in consequence of your mistaken opinions,
    and by suffering yourselves to be deceived, and cajoled, by
    foreign, ill designing wretches, who have only our, and your,
    ruin at heart.

    Attend, Men of England,--you who may give conquest to
    your Country, safety to us, and everlasting glory to
    yourselves--Attend, Men of England, to the _solemn_ truths told
    you by an honest


It is a weak spot in these lucubrations that very few of them
are dated, so that it is impossible to arrange them, like the
illustrations, in chronological sequence. But this is of little matter;
the situation was the same, whatever might be the month.


J. Smith (June 25, 1803) etched King George ‘Playing at Bubbles.’ The
monarch is seated before a large tub of soap-suds, amusing himself by
blowing bubbles, which are _Napoleon, flat-bottomed boats, invasion,
and little ships_--and, judging by the king’s placid countenance,
caring very little for his creations.

A very excellent example of caricature is Gillray’s ‘King of
Brobdingnag and Gulliver’ (June 26, 1803). The burly king has the
diminutive Bonaparte in the palm of his hand and is critically
examining him through his glass. Says he, ‘My little friend Grildrig
you have made a most admirable panegyric upon yourself and country, but
from what I can gather from your own relation, and the answers I have
with much pains wring’d and extorted from you, I cannot but conclude
you to be one of the most pernicious little odious reptiles that nature
ever suffered to crawl upon the surface of the Earth.’

And, indeed, he well deserved this character, if he were anything like
the demon the English sought to make him out. In one of the handbills,
however, is a quotation from ‘Denon’s Travels in Egypt,’ which is
wrested to serve its purpose in fomenting the Invasion furor.

    To the infamous WRETCH, if there be such an one in England,
    who dares to talk of, or even hopes to find _Mercy_ in the
    Breast of the _Corsican Bonaparte_, the _eternal sworn Foe of
    England_, the Conqueror and Grand Subjugator of France.

    If there be any Englishmen so base, or so foolish, as to wish
    to trust to the _Mercy_ of a French _Invading Army_, let him
    read that which follows:--The accuracy and veracity of the
    account cannot be doubted, it being an Extract from a Book, not
    only written under the inspection of the French Government,
    but, moreover, dedicated to the _Grand Consul_.

    I shall make no comment on this most scandalous public avowal,
    or rather, boast, of so inhuman and atrocious a proceeding, as
    the simple Fact sufficiently speaks for itself.

    ‘We, who boasted that we were more just than the Mamelukes,
    committed daily, and _almost necessarily_, a number of
    iniquities: the difficulty of distinguishing our Enemies by
    their Form and Colour, made us, every day, _kill innocent
    Peasants_; the Soldiers took Caravans of _poor Merchants_ for
    enemies, and, before justice could be done them, (_when there
    was time to do it_) _two or three of them were shot_, a part
    of their cargo was _pillaged or destroyed_, and their camels
    exchanged for those of ours, which had been wounded. The
    Fate of the People, _for whose happiness we no doubt came to
    Egypt_, was no better. If, at our approach, terror made them
    leave their houses, they found on their return, nothing but
    _the Mud of which the Walls were composed_; utensils, ploughs,
    gates, roofs, everything served as fuel to boil our Soup;
    their pots were broken, their grain was eaten, their fowls
    and pigeons roasted, and nothing was left but the carcases of
    their dogs, _when they defended the Property of their Masters_.
    If we remained in their Villages, the wretches were _summoned
    to return_, under pain of being treated as _Rebels_, and, in
    consequence, _double Taxed_; and when they yielded to these
    Menaces, came _to pay their Tax_, it sometimes happened,
    that, from their great number, they were taken for a body of
    Revolters, their sticks for arms, and they received _some
    discharges of Musketry before there was time for explaining
    the Mistake_; the Dead were interred, and we remained friends,
    till a safe opportunity for revenge occurred. It is true, that
    when they staid at home, _paid the Tax, and supplied all the
    Wants of the Army_, they were saved the trouble of a Journey to
    a Residence in the Desert, _saw their Provisions consumed with
    regularity_, and _were allowed_ a Part of them, preserved some
    of their gates, sold their eggs to the Soldiers, AND HAD BUT

    Such was the Treatment which Egypt experienced; a Country which
    the French were desirous to possess, and to conciliate; very
    Different is their Design upon Great Britain, which it is their
    avowed Intention to Ravage, Plunder and Destroy.



Ineffectual attempts at mediation seem to have been made, but, situated
as the two opposing Powers were, this could not be.

‘Bruin become mediator’ (artist unknown, June 1803) represents the
Emperor of Russia as a bear, joining the hands of a Bull and a Monkey.
The peacemaker thus addresses them, ‘I wonder you civilized folks could
not agree upon matters without reference to me, whom you have ridiculed
as a Barbarian--but I suppose you think I must have more sense than
yourselves, because I come further North.’ The Monkey is giving his
hand with ‘I promise on the faith of a Frenchman (which is as any
Birmingham Sixpence) to let you graze quietly in the Malta Paddock--and
to love you with all my heart, as much as I do the Liberty of the
French Nation.’ The Bull says, ‘Well Nappy, if you will leave off your
Pranks and not think of skipping over to Egypt, and if you will promise
not to hop the twig to Hanover, I will be reconciled.’

And again, a month later, is another caricature, called ‘Olympic Games,
or John Bull introducing his new Ambassador to the Grand Consul,’ by I.
Cruikshank (July 16, 1803), shewing us the little Corsican giving an
ambassador a blow in the face with his clenched fist, saying, ‘There
Sir, take that, and tell your master, I’ll thrash every one who dares
to speak to me: I’ll thrash all the World. D-- me I’ll, I’ll, I’ll, be
King of the Universe.’ The astonished Ambassador exclaims, ‘Why this is
Club Law! this is the Argument of force indeed. The little Gentleman
is Derangé.’ John Bull, however, is introducing a prize-fighter as his
representative, telling Napoleon, ‘There, my Boy, is an Ambassador who
will treat with you in your own way--but I say, be as gentle with him
as you can.’ The pugilist looks on his adversary with contempt, ‘What!
is it that little whipper snapper I am to set to with? Why I think the
_first round_ will settle his hash.’ The Austrian ambassador meanwhile
remarks, ‘The Monarch I represent, will return this insult with
becoming Dignity.’

Martial enthusiasm was at its height, corps of volunteers were enrolled
everywhere. The militia, 80,000 strong, had been called out on March
25; there was the regular army of 130,000, and, on June 28, the
House of Commons agreed to the raising of 50,000 more, by means of
conscription--of which England was to furnish 34,000, Ireland 10,000,
and Scotland 6,000; whilst, on June 30, the Court of Common Council
for the City of London resolved to raise, and equip, 800 men for the
national service. This, be it remembered, only represented that portion
of London within the city walls. Factions were for a time done away
with, and men, of all shades of politics, stood shoulder by shoulder,
as now, in the ranks of the different volunteer corps. Stirring
broadsides were not needed, although they appeared, and the following
may be taken as a good sample:--


    We by this Address, publicly and solemnly, before God and
    our Country, pledge our Fortunes, Persons, and Lives, in the
    Defence of our Sovereign, and all the Blessings of our glorious

    There is not a Man that hears me, I am persuaded, who is not
    prompt and eager to redeem that pledge. There is not, there
    cannot be a Man here, who would leave undefended, our good,
    tried, and brave OLD KING in the Hour of Danger.

    No, Sir! we need now no Warning-voice; no string of Eloquence;
    no Thoughts that heat, and Words that burn, are necessary to
    raise a Host of hardy Men, when the King, the Parliament, and
    the Country are in Distress.[75] CALL OUT TO YORKSHIREMEN,
    ‘COME FORTH TO BATTLE!’ our Answer will be--One and All--‘WE
    ARE READY!--_There is the Enemy!_--Lead on!’ Sir, that Enemy is
    not far off; a very numerous, well appointed, ably commanded
    Army, to whom is promised the Plunder of England, are now
    hovering round, and Part of them in daily Sight of the Promised
    Land. They view it, like so many famished Wolves, Cruel as
    Death, and Hungry as the Grave, panting for an Opportunity,
    at any Risk, to come into our Sheep Fold;--_but_, and if they
    should, is it not our Business, our first Duty, to have such a
    Guard of old, faithful ENGLISH MASTIFFS, of the old Breed, as
    shall make them quickly repent their temerity.

    The Chief Consul of France tells us, that we are but a Nation
    of Shopkeepers: let us, Shopkeepers, then melt our Weights, and
    our Scales, and return him the Compliment in Bullets. Sir; we
    may have a firm Reliance on the Exertions of as gallant a Fleet
    as ever sailed; but the Fleet cannot perform Impossibilities;
    it cannot be in two places at once; it cannot conquer the
    Winds, and subdue the Storms. Though our old Tars can do much,
    they cannot do everything; and it would be unsafe and dastardly
    to lie skulking behind them. With the Blessing of GOD, and a
    good Cause, we can do Wonders; but if we depend upon our Naval
    Prowess only, we have much to fear. NO, SIR: England will never
    be perfectly safe, until she can defend herself as well by
    _Land_, as by _Sea_; until she can defy the haughty Foe: if
    there was _even a Bridge_ between Calais and Dover, and that
    Bridge in Possession of the Enemy, still can she say, in the
    Language of a good _English Boxing Match_, ‘A FAIR FIELD AND NO

‘Our good, tried, and brave OLD KING, in the Hour of Danger,’ had
made all snug, at least as far as human foresight could act. When the
dreaded invasion came, he was to go either to Chelmsford or Dartford;
whilst the Queen, with the Royal Family and the treasure, were to go
to Worcester, the city whose motto is ‘Civitas in bello, et in pace,
fidelis.’ All the stores at Woolwich, including the artillery, were
to be sent into the Midlands by means of the Grand Junction Canal;
in fact, every precaution was taken that forethought could devise:
and there is but little doubt that, had Napoleon made good a landing,
he would have had a warmer reception than he expected. Yet what
disadvantages they laboured under compared to our days! no Telegraphs,
no Railways, no Steam. Of course it may be said that the enemy was in
no better position; but still a lucky wind might favour their crossing,
and hinder our preventing it.

Loyal and patriotic poetry abounded; here is a specimen:--


TUNE--‘_Hearts of Oak._’

  Away, my brave boys, haste away to the shore;
  Our foes, the base French, boast they’re straight coming o’er,
  To murder, and plunder, and ravish, and burn--
  Let them come--we’ll take care they shall never return;
  For around all our shores, hark! the notes loudly ring,
          United, we’re ready,
          Steady, boys, steady,
  To fight for our Liberty, Laws, and our King.

  They boast in the dark they will give us the slip:
  The attempt may procure them a dangerous dip;
  Our bold Tars are watching in Ocean’s green lap,
  To give them a long _Jacobinical_ nap.[76]
  But should they steal over, with one voice we’ll sing,
          United, we’re ready, &c.

  They knew, that united, we sons of the waves
  Would ne’er bow to Frenchmen, nor grovel like Slaves;
  So ere they dare venture to touch on our strand,
  They sent black Sedition to poison our land.
  But around all our shores let the notes loudly ring,
          United, we’re ready, &c.

  They swore we were slaves, all lost and undone;
  That a Jacobine nostrum, as sure as a gun,
  Would make us all equal, and happy, and free;
  ’Twas only to dance round their Liberty’s tree.
  No, no! round our shores let the notes loudly ring,
          United, we’re ready, &c.

  ’Twas only to grant them the kiss call’d fraternal--
  A kiss which all Europe has found most infernal;
  And then they maintained the effect could not miss--
  We should all be as blest as the Dutch and the Swiss.
  No, no! round our shores let the notes loudly ring,
          United, we’re ready, &c.

  With lies, and with many a Gallican wile,
  They spread their dread poison o’er Erin’s green Isle;
  But now each _shillalah_ is ready to thwack,
  And baste the lean ribs of the Gallican Quack.
  All around Erin’s shores, hark! the notes loudly ring,
          United, we’re ready, &c.
  Stout Sandy, our brother, with heart, and with hand,
  And his well-try’d _Glaymore_, joins the patriot band.
  Now Jack, Pat, and Sandy thus cordial agree,
  We sons of the wave shall for ever be free.
  While around all our shores, hark! the notes loudly ring,
          United, we’re ready, &c.

  As they could not deceive, now they threaten to pour
  Their hosts on our land, to lay waste and devour;
  To drench our fair fields, and our cities in gore,
  Nor cease to destroy till Britannia’s no more.
  Let them come if they dare--hark! the notes loudly ring,
          United, we’re ready, &c.

  My sweet rosy Nan is a true British wife,
  And loves her dear Jack, as she loves her own life;
  Yet she girds on my sword, and smiles while I glow,
  To meet the proud French, and to lay their heads low,
  And chants ’tween each buss, while the notes loudly ring,
          My Jack, art thou ready?
          Steady, boy, steady,
  Go fight for thy Liberty, Laws, and thy King.

  And Ned, my brave Lad, with a true British heart,
  Has forsaken his plough, has forsaken his cart;
  E’en Dolly has quitted, to dig in a trench,
  All, all, for the sake of a cut at the French;
  While he sings all day long, let the notes loudly ring,
          I’m ready, I’m ready!
          Steady, boy, steady,
  To fight for my Liberty, Laws, and my King.

  Away then, my boys! haste away to the shore,
  Our foes, the base French, boast they’re straight coming o’er,
  To murder, and plunder, and ravish, and burn--
  They may come,--but, by Jove, they shall never return;
  For around all our shores, hark! the notes loudly ring,
          United, we’re ready,
          Steady, boys, steady,
  To fight for our Liberty, Laws, and our King.

‘The Final Pacification of Europe’ (artist unknown, June 1803) shews
that this desirable thing could only be accomplished by the death of
Napoleon--so he is represented as being suspended from a gallows,
whilst postboys, duly equipped with horns, and dressed in their
different national garbs, are shouting, ‘Good News for Russia, Prussia,
Old England, Germany, and Switzerland.’ Holland is excessively joyful:
Mynheer calling out, ‘Good news for Holland, ti-lol-de-riddle-lol.’

A very amusing caricature is ‘Green Spectacles, or Consular Goggles’
(artist unknown, June 1803), where Napoleon is represented as sitting
on a rock called _Usurped Power_, and wearing an enormous pair of green
goggles labelled ‘Green eyed Jealousy,’ through which he darts envious
glances at Great Britain, West Indies, East Indies, Malta, and Egypt.



We meet with a slight notice of Toussaint l’Ouverture, and the war
in St. Domingo, in a broadside dwelling on the consequences of a
successful invasion: ‘Here then there would be no _volunteering_, no
_balloting_, unless, indeed, such Volunteers as were raised in France
for the conquest of St. Domingo. And how were they raised? Why, by
every man having a bayonet put to his breast, being seized by force,
and then _chained in couples like dogs_, and drove down in a string to
the coast, for embarkation, like so many _Galley slaves_. This, though
it may sound incredible to an Englishman’s ear, is a fact known to all

‘Such my brave Countrymen, would be your dreadful fate, could this
blessed island be once subjugated to that haughty and merciless Tyrant,
the Corsican Bonaparte. Where then, is the Man who would not die a
thousand, and a thousand deaths sooner than submit to so cruel and
unnatural a fate?’

July was very prolific of these broadsheets, some of them taking the
form of theatrical announcements, two of which are here given.






  Principal Buffo        MR. BUONAPARTE,

Being his FIRST (and most likely his Last) Appearance on this Stage.

_Anticipated Critique._

    The structure of this Farce is very _loose_, and there is a
    moral, and radical, Defect in the Ground work. It boasts,
    however, considerable Novelty, for the Characters are ALL MAD.
    It is probable it will _not_ be played in the COUNTRY, but
    will certainly never be _acted_ in TOWN; where ever it may
    be represented, we will do it the justice to say, it will be
    received with _Thunders_ of ... CANNON!!! but we will venture
    to affirm will never equall the Success of


    It is however likely that the Piece may yet be put off on
    account of the Indisposition of the Principal Performer, Mr.
    BUONAPARTE. We don’t exactly know what this Gentleman’s Merits
    may be on the Tragic Boards of France, but he will never
    succeed here; his Figure is very diminutive, he struts a great
    deal, seems to have no Conception of his _Character_, and
    treads the Stage very badly; notwithstanding which defects,
    we think, if he comes here, he will get an ENGAGEMENT, though
    it is probable that he will, shortly after, be reduced to the
    situation of a SCENE SHIFTER.

    As for the Farce, we recommend it to be withdrawn, as it is
    the opinion of all Political Critics, that if played, it will
    certainly be


  ‘_Vivant Rex et Regina._’

The other is:--



Some Dark, Foggy Night, about November next, will be ATTEMPTED, by a
Strolling Company of French Vagrants, an Old Pantomomic Farce, called







(Who Murdered that Character in _Egypt_, _Italy_, _Switzerland_,
_Holland_, &c.)



In the Course of the Piece will be introduced a Distant View of

_Harlequin’s Flat-Bottomed Boats_





The Parts of John Bull, Paddy Whack, Sawney Mac Snaish, and
Shone-ap-Morgan, by Messrs. NELSON, MOIRA, ST. VINCENT, GARDNER,

The Chorus of ‘_Hearts of Oak_,’ by the JOLLY TARS and ARMY of OLD

Assisted by a Numerous Company of Provincial Performers, Who have
VOLUNTEERED their Services on this Occasion.

The Overture to consist of ‘Britons Strike Home’--‘Stand to your
Guns’--‘Rule Britannia’ and


The Dresses will be splendid; the Band numerous and compleat. The whole
to conclude with a GRAND ILLUMINATION, and a TRANSPARENCY displaying
BRITANNIA receiving the Homage of GALLIC SLAVES.

⁂ No Room for Lobby Loungers. _Vivant Rex et Regina._

According to the caricaturist, Hanover had no special attractions for
Bonaparte. ‘Boney in possession of the Millstone’ (Ansell, July 5,
1803) shews him as having a fearfully large and weighty millstone hung
round his neck, called Hanover. He totters under the weight, and calls
out that ‘It’s cursed heavy! I wish it had been Malta!’ John Bull,
dressed as a countryman, jeers him: ‘What! thee hast got it, hast thee?
The Devil do thee good with it--Old Measter Chatham used to say it was
a Millstone about my neck--so perhaps I may feel more lightsome without

‘Flags of Truth and Lies’ (artist unknown, July 10, 1803) is a
representation of a typical Frenchman and Englishman, as then imagined.
The Frenchman holds a tricoloured flag, and intimates that ‘Mon grande
Maître bid-a you read dat, Monsieur!’ and points to the following text
on the flag: ‘Citizen first Consul Buonaparte presents Compliments and
Thanks to the Ladies and Gentlemen of Great Britain, who have honored
him with their visits at Paris, and intends himself the pleasure of
returning it in person, as soon as his arrangements for that purpose
can be completed.’ John Bull replies, ‘And let your Grand Master read
that, Mounseer,’ and points to his flag, the Union Jack, on which is
written ‘John Bull does not rightly understand the Chief Consul’s
lingo--but supposes he means something about Invasion; therefore the
said John Bull deems it necessary to observe that if his Consular
Highness dares to invade any Ladies or Gentlemen on his coast, he’ll be
damn’d if he don’t sink him.’


_A New Song._

  As the Devil thro’ Paris one Day took a Walk,
  BUONAPARTE he met,--and they both had some Talk;
  Great Hero, says _Satan_, pray how do you do?
  I am well, cried the Consul, my Service to you.
              _Derry down, down, down, derry down!_

  What News do you bring from your Empire below,
  How is OLIVER CROMWELL? But very so, so!
  I fancy he envies your _glories_ so great;
  For he vows he ne’er reigned in such Splendor and State--
                                  Derry down, &c.

  Tho’ he often exerted himself in _my_ Cause,
  Still Britons from him, had some excellent Laws;
  How much below yours all his Merits must fall,
  Who rules this _Republic_ without Laws at all!!!
                                  Derry down, &c.

  ALEXANDER, and CÆSAR, fine Heroes in Story,
  Are jealous, I know, of your Deeds, and your Glory;
  Tho’ they push’d thro’ the Globe all their Conquests pell mell,
  And rul’d _Monarchs_ on Earth, now they’re _Subjects_ in Hell.
                                  Derry down, &c.

  ’Bout Religion at Rome you once made a great Pother,
  Have pulled down one _Pope_, and then set up another!
  In _Egypt_ I’ve heard of your _wonderful_ Works,
  How Mahomet you worshipp’d, to flatter the Turks!
                                  Derry down, &c.

  The Deeds you there acted with _Poison_ and Ire,
  On my Realms are recorded in Letters of Fire;
  Not an _Imp_ in my Service, but boasts of your Fame,
  And ‘grins, horribly’ grins--when he mentions your name.
                                  Derry down, &c.

  You boast much, dear CONSUL, of Liberty’s Tree,
  You say that the _Dutch_ and the _Swiss_ are quite free!
  If such Freedom as this to give Britain’s your aim,
  Try your skill, that I soon to yourself may lay claim!
                                  Derry down, &c.

  When the Time shall arrive that’s determin’d by Fate--
  That you quit for INVASION your Consular Seat;
  Fear not--if bold Britons should prove your o’erthrow,
  You’re sure of a _Seat_ in my Kingdom below!
                                  Derry down, &c.


Gillray (July 20, 1803) produced the ‘Death of the Corsican Fox--Scene,
the last of the Royal Hunt,’ in which George III. holding his horse’s
bridle, with one hand holds up the Corsican Fox, to throw to his
hounds, St. Vincent, Nelson, Sydney Smith, Gardner, Cornwallis, and
others--shouting merrily, meanwhile, ‘Tally ho! Tally ho! ho! ho! ho!’






_Translated from a French Manuscript_,


    And when the great man came from Egypt, he used cunning, and
    force, to subject the people. The good, as well as the wicked,
    of the land trembled before him, because he had won the hearts
    of all the fighting men; and, after he had succeeded in many of
    his schemes, his heart swelled with pride, and he sought how to
    ensnare the people more and more, to be the greatest man under
    the Sun.

    The Multitude of the people were of four kinds; some resembled
    blind men, that cannot see; some were fearful, who trembled
    before him; others courageous, and for the good of the people,
    but too weak in number; and others yet, who were as wicked
    as the great man himself. And when he was at the head of
    the deluded nation, he gave strict laws, and the following
    commandments, which were read before a multitude of people, and
    in a full congregation of all his priests:

    1. Ye Frenchmen, ye shall have no other commander above me, for
    I, Bonaparte, am the supreme head of the nation, and will make
    all nations bow down to you, and obey me, as your Lord, and

    2. Ye shall not have any graven images upon your coin, in
    marble, wood, or metal, which might represent any person above
    me; nor shall ye acknowledge any person to excel me, whether
    he be among the living or the dead; whether he be in the happy
    land of the enlightened French, or in the cursed island of the
    dull English; for I, the Chief Consul of France, am a jealous
    hero, and visit disobedience of an individual upon a whole
    nation, and of a father upon the children, and upon the third
    and fourth generation of them that hate me; and shew mercy unto
    those that love me, and humble themselves.

    3. Ye shall not trifle with my name, nor take it in vain;
    nor shall you suffer that any other nation treat it
    disrespectfully, for I will be the sole commander upon earth,
    and make you triumph over your enemies.

    4. Remember, that ye keep the days of prayers, and pray for me
    as the head of the Nation and the future Conqueror of the base
    English. Ye shall pray fervently, with your faces cast upon the
    ground, and not look at the priest when he pronounces my name;
    for I am a jealous hero, and delight in my priests, because
    they are humble, and I have regarded the lowliness of their
    hearts, and forgiven them all their past iniquities. And ye
    priests, remember the power of him, who made you his creatures,
    and do your duty.

    5. Respect and honour all French heroes, that ye may find mercy
    in mine eyes for all your iniquities, and that ye may live in
    the land, in which I, the Lord, your Commander, live.

    6. Ye shall not murder each other, save it be by my own
    commands, for purposes that may be known to me alone; but of
    your enemies, and all those nations that will not acknowledge
    your, and my, greatness, ye may kill an infinite number; for
    that is a pleasing sight in the eyes of your supreme commander.

    7. Ye shall not commit adultery at home, whatever ye may do in
    the land of infidels, and the stiff-necked people; for they are
    an abomination to the Lord, your Commander.

    8. Ye shall not steal at home, but suppress your covetousness,
    and insatiable desire of plunder, until ye may arrive in the
    land of our enemies. Ye shall neither steal from them with
    indiscretion, but seem to give with the left hand, when the
    right taketh.

    9. Ye shall not bear false witness against your neighbour, if
    he should distinguish himself in the land of the enemies.

    10. Ye shall not covet any thing of your neighbour, but
    everything of your enemies; his jewels, his gold, his silver,
    his horse or ass, his maid, his daughter, his wife, or anything
    in which your hearts find delight; and ye may take it, but
    still with cunning; for the Lord, your Commander, loveth
    mildness, more than strength, to please the people when he
    plunders.--Use the sword in battle, cunning after it, look
    for plunder, but subject the people to me;--herein lie all my
    commandments, and those who keep them shall be protected by my
    power and prosper in all my undertakings.



_Being the Song of Songs, and worth all the Songs in the World put

  To be sung, or said, by every Jovial Fellow, who is a
  True Lover of our good King and most happy

  Should Boney come hither, our Britons declare,
  They’d flog the dog well--you may surely guess where:
  While others have vow’d, they would hang him as high,
  As Haman the Jew--’twixt the earth and the sky.
            Boney down, down, down, Boney down.

  Some say they will treat him no better than fleas,
  And ’twixt thumb and finger they’ll give him a squeeze;
  Whilst some by the ears, the vile Ruffian they’ll lug,
  And others will give him a good Cornish hug.
                                Boney down, &c.

  Nay, many would clap him in cage for a show,
  At two pence a piece, Sirs--the price is too low:
  Whilst others would drive him post haste to the Tower,
  A _tit-bit_ for tygers and wolves to devour.
                                Boney down, &c.

  Stand by, says young Snip, don’t you see my bold shears?
  For the least I will have, is his nose or his ears;
  Says the Cook, I will baste him, and humble his pride,
  Cries the Tanner, Pox take him, I’ll tan his vile hide.
                                Boney down, &c.

  Says the Butcher, I’ll knock down the dog like an ox,
  Cries the Constable bold--put the knave in the Stocks;
  Says the Chandler, when once to the Pill’ry he hies,
  Rotten eggs will I furnish to bung up his eyes.
                                Boney down, &c.

  Says the Doctor, I’m ready to give him a pill,
  For the doctors, like Boney, they know how to kill;
  Says the Lawyer, I’ll make the cur presently mute,
  When once I shall bring him the cost of his suit.
                                Boney down, &c.

  Cries the Huntsman, I long on his shoulders to ride,
  I warrant a good pair of spurs I’ll provide.
  Says the Welchman, I’ll toast him as I would toast cheese;
  Says Paddy, I’ll whack him, as long as you _plase_.
                                Boney down, &c.

  Cries a brave bonny Scot, Mon, gee mee his _lug_,
  And I’ll squeeze him as flat as a _bonnock_ or bug;
  Says old Suds, I will shave him with razor so notch’d,
  As shall leave his black muzzle most famously scotch’d.
                                Boney down, &c.

  Says the Dust-man, I’ll _dust_ him--you know what I mean,
  I’ll give him a hide, all black, blue and green;
  Says the Mason, I’ll case him in good bricks and mortar,
  No, no, says Jack Ketch--don’t you see this nice _halter_?
                                Boney down, &c.

  Says the Baker, the Rogue in my oven I’ll poke;
  Cries young Sweep--in the chimney I’ll give him a smoke;
  The Cobler will give him a stitch in the heel,
  And here’s Moll, who would skin him as clean as an eel.
                                Boney down, &c.

  But here’s Tom the Miller, who swears he’ll have Boney,
  And grind him as close as--Old Hunks keeps his money.
  Nay, stop, cries the Joiner, I’ll saw off his head,
  Cries the Surgeon, we’ll have him as soon as he’s dead.
                                Boney down, &c.

  Then stretch the Dog out, and when flat on his back,
  We’ll cut out his heart to see if it’s black;
  For sure such another, no mortal e’er saw,
  Unless vomited forth, from old Belzebub’s maw.
                                Boney down, &c.

  But now for his flesh--we must lay bare his bones,
  And then let him stand clear of Old _Davy Jones_,[77]
  But Davy will have him, as sure as a gun,
  So now Master Boney, here ends all your fun.
                                Boney down, &c.

  The Soldiers will stick him--the Sailor he cries,
  He’ll never come hither, the Rascal’s too wise;
  He knows that the Tars of Old England ne’er shrink,
  But him, and his flat-bottom’d boats they will sink.
                                Boney down, &c.

  ’Twou’d weary your patience to hear folks repeat,
  How Boney the _Pigmy_ they’re anxious to treat;
  So let him come hither, we’ll soon make a ring,
  Then fight till we die, for our Country and King.
                                Boney down, &c.

Among the caricatures, West gives us (July 1803) ‘A British Chymist
Analizing a Corsican Earth Worm!!’ Bonaparte is in a retort, being
distilled, and George the Third is examining a cup of his extract, with
a magnifying glass, saying, ‘I think I can now pretty well ascertain
the ingredients of which this insect is composed--viz.--Ambition and
self sufficiency, two parts--Forgetfulness--one part--some light
Invasion Froth, on the surface, and a prodigious quantity of fretful
passion, and conceited Arrogance is the residue!!’

‘Little Ships, or John Bull very Inquisitive’ (artist unknown, July
1803), shews us Napoleon employed in cutting toy ships out of bits
of wood; he has already filled a large basket with them, and has two
or three before him, on a table. John Bull, with a terrific oaken
cudgel, comes suddenly upon him, saying, ‘I ax Pardon for coming in
with my hat on, without knocking--but, hearing a nation thumping in
your workshop--thought I may as well step up stairs, and see what the
youngster is about.’ Napoleon replies, ‘Don’t be alarm’d Johnny--I am
only making a few little Ships, for my own Private Amusement.’

The following broadside was printed with different headings, so as to
sell in different counties--


  MIDDLESEX (to wit)

    _To all Constables, Head boroughs, Tithing Men, and other
    Officers of the County of Middlesex, and to every of whom it
    may concern_,

    Whereas a certain ill disposed Vagrant, and common disturber,
    commonly called, or known by the name of NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
    _alias_ Jaffa Bonaparte, _alias_ Opium Bonaparte, _alias_
    Whitworth Bonaparte, _alias_ Acre Bonaparte, still continues
    to go about swindling and defrauding divers Countries, Cities,
    Towns, and Villages, under divers, various, and many false and
    wicked pretences, out of their Rights, Comforts, Conveniences,
    and Cash; AND WHEREAS the said NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, _alias_
    Jaffa Bonaparte, _alias_ Opium Bonaparte, _alias_ Whitworth
    Bonaparte, _alias_ Acre Bonaparte, hath been guilty of divers
    Outrages, Rapes, and Murders, at _Jaffa_, _Rosetta_, and
    elsewhere; AND WHEREAS It is strongly suspected that the said
    NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, _alias_ Jaffa Bonaparte, _alias_ Opium
    Bonaparte, _alias_ Whitworth Bonaparte, _alias_ Acre Bonaparte,
    hath in contemplation at the Day of the Date of these presents,
    to land in some, (but in what, part is not yet known) of Great
    Britain or Ireland: WE DO hereby will and require, that in
    case the said NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, _alias_ Jaffa Bonaparte,
    _alias_ Opium Bonaparte, _alias_ Whitworth Bonaparte, _alias_
    Acre Bonaparte, shall be found to _lurk_, and _wander_ up and
    down your Bailiwick, that you bring before us the body of the
    said NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, _alias_ Jaffa Bonaparte, _alias_
    Opium Bonaparte, _alias_ Whitworth Bonaparte, _alias_ Acre
    Bonaparte, on or before the Morrow[78] of All Souls, that he
    may be forthwith sent to our Jail for WILD BEASTS, situate,
    standing, and being, over Exeter ‘Change in the Strand, without
    _Bail_ or _Mainprize_; and that he be there placed in a certain
    Iron Cage, with the Ouran Outang, or some other ferocious and
    voracious animal like himself, for the purpose of being tamed,
    or until a warrant shall issue to our beloved subject _Jack
    Ketch_, to deal with him according to Law and the _Virtue_ of
    his Office; and this in no-wise omit at your peril. Witness our


    The said NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, _alias_ Jaffa Bonaparte, _alias_
    Opium Bonaparte, _alias_ Whitworth Bonaparte, _alias_ Acre
    Bonaparte, is a Corsican by birth, about five feet four inches
    in height of a swarthy black complexion, dark hair and eye
    brows, and resembles a great deal in person, a Bear-leader,
    or one of the Savoyards who play on the reeds at Vauxhall:
    he is remarkable for walking fast, and taking long strides,
    and has been thought to squint, though it is, in fact, no more
    than a _cast_ in the left eye, with looking too much at one
    object--Old England--to which over application, he also owes
    being afflicted with the Jaundice.

    The above reward will be paid by the County immediately on



At this time much use was made of the phrase ‘Britons, strike home!’
which first appears in an adaptation of Beaumont and Fletcher’s play
of ‘Bonduca,’ or Boadicea--which was set to music by Henry Purcell in
1695. The few words are not in the original drama, but are interpolated
with other songs, and form a solo and chorus.

[Illustration: [Music]

  Brit - ons, strike home, Re - venge, re - venge your
  coun - - - try’s wrongs. Fight, fight and re -
  - cord, fight, fight and re - cord your --
  selves in Dru - - ids’ songs, Fight,
  fight and re - - cord, fight, fight and re -
  - cord, re - cord your - selves in Dru - ids’ songs.

But these simple words would hardly suit the times, so a brand new
patriotic song was evolved, embodying the title


_A New Song._

  Should Frenchmen e’er pollute Britannia’s strand,
  Or press with hostile hoof this sacred land;
  The daring deed should every Briton arm,
  To save his native land from dire alarm;
  Her free born Sons should instant take the field,
  The Altar and the Throne at once to shield.
      Britons, strike home! avenge your Country’s cause,
      Protect your _King_, your _Liberties_, and _Laws_!

  Repel the Foe, that, desperate, dares invade
  The land protected by great Sydney’s shade;
  And in the cause for which your Hampden bled,
  Should ev’ry Briton’s blood be freely shed;
  A cause no less than Liberty and Life,
  The poor Man’s Home, his Children and his Wife.
                    Britons, strike home! &c.

  The base Usurper comes--his troops advance,
  And line, with threat’ning front, the shores of France;
  Already has the Despot given the word;
  Already has he drawn his blood stain’d sword;
  While _Jaffa’s_ plains attest th’ Assassin’s skill,
  Poison and blood--the dagger and the pill.
                    Britons, strike home! &c.

  No common war we wage, our _native land_
  Is menac’d by a murderous, ruthless band;
  The Throne and Altar by their Chief o’erturn’d,
  And at his feet one half the prostrate world!
  ‘Plunder and Rape and Death’’s the hostile cry,
  ‘Fire to your towns--to Britons slavery!’
                    Britons, strike home! &c.

  Come, Bonaparte, come! we are prepar’d;
  No British heart a foreign foe e’er fear’d.
  What! tho’ an abject world in arms should rise,
  In _England’s_ cause, a Briton death defies;
  If to herself she prove but firm and true,
  Gaul, and her frantic Chief, she’ll make to rue.
                    Britons, strike home! &c.

  Plung’d in the deep, her navy we’ll confound,
  Or with French blood manure our British ground;
  Drive backward to the sea the Gallic slaves,
  And whelm their host, like Pharaoh’s, in the waves;
  Restore lost Peace and Plenty to our isle,
  And make the land again with gladness smile.
                    Britons, strike home! &c.

There is an amusing picture by West (July 1803) called Amusement after
Dinner, or The Corsican Fairy displaying his Prowess.’ George the
Third and Queen Charlotte are at dessert, which is, as was their whole
_ménage_, frugal, consisting only of a blancmange--the top ornament
of which is a fleet of ships, behind which is a pineapple (the _King
fruit_, as it was called on its introduction into England), the summit
of which bears a crown. The royal pair are highly amused by the antics
of the Corsican fairy (Napoleon) who vapours about the table in huge
cocked hat and enormous sword. Pointing to the blancmange, he says, ‘If
I could but get over this dish of Blanche Mange, I would soon invade
the Pine Apple.’

In ‘A Monstrous Stride,’ by I. Cruikshank (July 25, 1803), Bonaparte
is represented as flourishing his sword and, having one foot on Turkey
and Poland, is attempting to put the other on Great Britain, but
steps short, and comes among the fleet guarding the English shores.
Underneath the picture is ‘He will put his foot in it.’

There was a somewhat amusing political squib on Napoleon, published
some time in July of this year, entitled


    In the name of my Trinity, the Goddess of Reason, Mahomet
    the Prophet, and Pius the Pope; We the most great, most
    magnanimous, and most puissant BRUTUS ALY NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
    son to a Spy, grandson to a Butcher, and great-grandson to a
    Galley Slave, Emperor of the Gauls, First Consul of France,
    President of Italy, Landamman of Switzerland, Director of
    Holland, King of Etruria, Protector of Emperors, Dictator and
    Creator of Kings, Electors, Princes, Cardinals, Senators,
    Generals, Bishops, Prefects, Actors, Schoolmasters, &c., &c.,
    &c., do declare, that notwithstanding the adulation of our
    Slaves, and their assurances of immortality, the pangs of
    our conscience, the decay of our body, the fear of recoiling
    daggers, the dreadful anticipation of infernal machines
    emitting fire and smoke, invented at Jaffa, and the hissing
    breath of the poisonous serpents generated at El Arish, remind
    us that we soon must die, and that our power must die with us.
    We, therefore, according to the _Senatus Consultum_ of our free
    Senate, do declare this to be our last Will and Testament, as


    To our most beloved, and dearest _Ibrahim Rostan_, Mameluke,
    we give and bequeath after our decease, the crown of Henry
    IV., the sceptre of Saint Louis, and the throne of France and
    Navarre, the sovereignty and sovereign disposal of the lives
    and fortunes of thirty millions of Frenchmen, of six millions
    of Italians, of seven millions of Spaniards, of two millions
    of Helvetians, and of three millions of Batavians, (except as
    is hereafter excepted) and we enjoin and charge all the world
    to acknowledge, adore, and respect this Mameluke, _Ibrahim
    Rostan_, the African, as the natural and legal successor of us,
    _Brutus Aly Napoleon Bonaparte_, the Corsican.

    We give and bequeath in reversion, to Citizen _Barras_, our
    dear Consort, much improved, and more enriched, but reserving
    to ourselves the disposal of her virtuous Maids of Honour, whom
    we give and bequeath to our _Legion of Honour_, as a reward
    due as well to the virtues of the one, as to the valour of the

    We give and bequeath to our dearly beloved brother _Joseph_,
    the presidency of the Italian Republic, together with our
    dearly bought Minister _Talleyrand_, to be disposed of as his
    own property, in all future negociations.

    To our dearly beloved brother _Lucien_, we give and bequeath
    our Batavian Republic, and our Minister _Chaptal_, who,
    hereafter, shall write his speeches, dictate his letters, and
    correct his spelling.

    To our dearly beloved brother _Louis_, we bequeath our
    Helvetian Republic, and our Minister _Berthier_, accompanied
    with the sense of his Secretary _Achambau_, whose instructions,
    in some time, may enable him to become a good Corporal of

    To our dearly beloved brother _Jerome_, we bequeath, _in
    petto_, the sovereignty of the seas, with our minister of
    Marine, and all the admirals of our navy, doubting, however,
    if their united efforts will make him a good midshipman.

    To our dearly beloved _Mother_, we give and bequeath his
    Holiness, the _Pope_, and our uncle, Cardinal _Frere_[79];
    with a Pope, and a Cardinal, in her possession, her stay in
    purgatory must be short, and in Heaven long.

    To our dearly beloved sisters, Mistresses _Bacchiocchi_,
    _Murat_, _Santa Cruce_, and _Le Clerc_, we give and bequeath
    our family honours, chastity, modesty, and moderation.

    To our dear son in law, _Eugenius Beauharnais_, we give and
    bequeath _Parma_ and _Plaisance_,[80] with our dear countryman
    _Sebastiani_, who will instruct him to drive like a coachman,
    and ride like a postillion.

    To our much beloved daughter in law, Madame _Fanny
    Beauharnais_, as a reward for her loyalty, we bequeath a
    representation, in wax, of the scaffold of her father, and
    the throne of her mother, both designed by the revolutionary
    modellers, _Barras_ & Co.

    To our dear uncle, Cardinal Frere,[79] we give and bequeath the
    triple crown of St. Peter, _in petto_, and to all our nameless
    known and unknown relatives, we give and bequeath the kingdom
    of _Etruria_, to be disposed of to the highest bidder, and its
    value laid out in mourning rings, to be equally distributed
    amongst them, and certain Continental Princes hereinafter

    We give and bequeath to our dear friend the King of _Spain_, an
    Etrurian mourning ring, and four family pictures, representing
    the Bourbons dethroned, the Bourbons degraded, the Bourbons
    repenting, and the Bourbons forgiven.

    We give and bequeath to the King of _Naples_, three marble
    statues, after a model by his Queen, representing Faith,
    Loyalty, and Constancy; and to the Kings of _Sardinia_, we
    bequeath our promises of honour, to be equally divided between

    We give and bequeath to his Holiness the _Pope_, the doctrines
    of the Goddess of Reason, the Alcoran of Mahomet, and the
    atheism of our Institute; all true relics; besides, to
    himself, his successors, and College of Cardinals, we bequeath
    concordant mourning rings, from the manufactory of our
    Counsellor of State _Portalis_.[81]

    We give and bequeath to his Imperial Majesty the Emperor of
    _Germany_, two drawings, representing Hope amongst the ruins
    of _Turkey_, and Desire contemplating _Bavaria_, designed by
    Citizen _Dupe_, and sold by Citizen _Plot_.

    We give and bequeath to his Imperial Majesty the Emperor of
    _Russia_, three pictures, representing Louis XVI. upon the
    Throne, Louis XVI. in the Temple, and Louis XVI. upon the
    Scaffold; by Citizens _Loyalty_, _Monarchy_, and _Warning_.

    We give and bequeath to our dearest friend the King of
    _Prussia_, the landscape of Hanover, with the Imperial Crown in
    perspective, by Citizens _Royalty_, _Jacobin_, and _Rebel_.

    We give and bequeath to our natural Ally the Emperor of the
    _Turkish Empire_, the description of our Conquests of _Egypt_,
    our flight from _Egypt_, and our future return to _Egypt_, by
    Citizens _Treachery_, _Cowardice_, and _Design_.

    We give and bequeath to his Majesty the King of the United
    Kingdoms of _Great Britain_, and _Ireland_, the United Navy
    of Holland and France, commanded by Citizen _Envy_, mann’d by
    Citizen _Coalition_, and lost by Citizen _Invasion_.

    We give and bequeath to his Majesty the King of _Sweden_,
    the French original representation of the assassination of
    _Gustavus III._ to remind him of vengeance, honour and duty.

    We give to our dear friend the King of _Denmark_, an original
    painting, of the insults, torments, and death, of his Queen
    _Caroline Matilda_; designed and executed by two celebrated
    French artists, Citizens _Intrigue_ and _Crime_.

    We give and bequeath to the Regent of _Portugal_, a Code of
    our Revolutionary Laws of Nations, and a chapter of the Rebel
    Etiquette of Grenadier Ambassadors, explained and illustrated
    by Citizens _Sans Culottes_, _Rudeness_, and _Impudence_.

    We give and bequeath to our friend the Elector of _Bavaria_
    the Bible of the _Theophilanthropes_, and the Concordat of
    _Portalis_, as an assistance to his patriotic illuminated
    ministers, in their political reformations, and religious

    We give and bequeath to our chosen Grand Master of _Malta_,
    the Musical Opera of the Capture of _Malta_, performed in
    1798 with a Concerto by Citizen _Treason_, and in 1800 with a
    Bravura, by Citizen _Valour_, with the farcical afterpiece of
    the _Recapture_, performed at _Amiens_, by Citizens _Fraud_ and

    To all other _Continental Sovereigns_, who have accepted more
    or less of our bountiful indemnities, we give and bequeath
    our mourning rings of honour; and to all other ambassadors,
    ministers, agents, and deputies, who have negociated,
    intrigued, bribed, or begged indemnities, we give and bequeath,
    with our consciences of honour, the revolutionary principles of
    _Necker_, the ex-minister, the probity, and disinterestedness
    of _Talleyrand_, our minister, and the honour and virtue of
    _Fouché_ our senator, to be equally divided amongst them, share
    and share alike.

    We give and bequeath to all _Sovereigns_ upon earth, who have
    acknowledged our Corsican Kingdom of _Etruria_, and to their
    ministers and counsellors, _Iron_ mourning rings, from the axe
    of the Guillotine, of the _Luneville_ manufactory, bearing
    the following inscription, ‘_Monarchy degraded, and Monarchy
    dishonoured, Feb. 1801_.’[82]

    We give and bequeath to the _Citizens of the Republics_ in
    _Italy_, _Switzerland_, and _Holland_, our Corsican Mourning
    rings, with an inscription, ‘_Liberty lost, 1801, and
    unrevenged, 1803_.’

    N.B.--We give and bequeath to the _Citizens_ of the _United
    States of America_, the funeral speeches on the tombs of the
    Liberty of _France_, _Germany_, _Switzerland_, _Italy_, and
    _Holland_, translated and published by Citizen _Plot_, in

    To all our _Senators_, _Legislators_, _Tribunes_,
    _Counsellors_, _Ministers_, _Generals_, _Cardinals_, _Bishops_,
    _Prefects_, &c., &c., &c., and to all other of our _Slaves_
    of every denomination and description, whether _Rebel_,
    _Royalist_, or _Regicide Jacobins_; either _Traitors_,
    _Apostates_, _Murderers_, or _Plunderers_, we give and bequeath
    the Cannon of _St. Napoleon_, the dagger of _St. Brutus_, the
    poison of _St. Aly_, the Guillotine of _St. Robespierre_, and
    the halter of _St. Judas_; all true relics, to be equally
    divided amongst them.

    We give and bequeath to the Manes of all the Citizens
    butchered by us at Toulon, murdered by us at Paris, and
    poisoned by us in Egypt; our confession to our Cardinal Bishop
    at Paris, and our absolution from his Holiness the _Pope_.

    We command, and desire most earnestly, not to be buried in any
    Church or Church-yard, in any mosque or pantheon, but in the
    common sewer of _Montmartre_, where the corses of our worthy
    predecessors, _Marat_ and _Robespierre_, were deposited;
    but for the quiet of our soul, we do order, and put into
    requisition, _La Revalliere_, high priest to the _Goddess_ of
    _Reason_, _Mercier_, the atheist of the Institute, _Amarat_,
    the mufti of _Constantinople_, and _Pius_ the _Pope_ of _Rome_,
    to say prayers over our tomb, and to read ‘_Domine salvum fac
    Consulem,’ sic transit Gloria mundi_!

    Lastly, to _Louis_ the XVIII. commonly called the Pretender,
    and to all Princes of the _House_ of _Bourbon_, their heirs,
    executors, administrators, and assigns, we give and bequeath
    our everlasting hate; and it is our further will and pleasure,
    that, if any potentate or power, shall harbour the said _Louis_
    XVIII. or any of the said princes, such harbouring shall be a
    good cause of war; and the potentate and power guilty of such
    humanity, and hospitality, shall be punished by a Coalition of
    Powers as a violater of the law of nations, and contrary to the
    rights of man.

    In Witness whereof, we have hereunto set our hand and seal the
    25th day of Prairial, (14 June, 1803) in the eleventh year of
    the French Republic, one and indivisible.


As a specimen of the bombast of the time, we may take the subjoined
illustration of what our Tars would do with Napoleon.

[Illustration: INVASION.]



A most ghastly picture, which should not be called a caricature,
yet is meant so to be, is by Gillray (July 26, 1803), and is called
‘Buonaparte forty-eight Hours after Landing!’ A crowd of rural
volunteers are assembled, and one of them hoists the head of Napoleon
upon a pitchfork, calling out ‘Ha, my little Boney! what do’st think of
Johnny Bull, now? Plunder Old England! hay? make French slaves of us
all! hay? ravish all our Wives and Daughters! hay? O Lord, help that
silly Head! To think that Johnny Bull would ever suffer those lanthorn
Jaws to become King of Old England Roast Beef and Plum pudding.’ Whilst
on the top of the engraving is inscribed, ‘This is to give information
for the benefit of all Jacobin Adventurers, that Policies are now
open’d at Lloyd’s--where the depositer of One Guinea is entitled to a
Hundred if the Corsican Cut throat is alive 48 Hours after Landing on
the British Coast.’


Ansell also takes up this gruesome subject (August 6, 1803) in ‘After
the Invasion. The Levée en Masse, or Britons Strike Home.’ The French
have landed, but have been thoroughly defeated; the British soldiers
driving them bodily over the cliffs, into the sea. The women are
plundering the dead, but complain bitterly of the poverty of their
spoil. ‘Why, this is poor finding, I have emptied the pockets of a
score and only found garlic, one head of an onion, and a parcel of pill
boxes.’ A rural volunteer, who has Bonaparte’s head on a pitchfork,
addresses two comrades thus: ‘Here he is exalted, my Lads, 24 Hours
after Landing.’ Says one of the countrymen, ‘Why, Harkee, d’ye zee, I
never liked soldiering afore, but, somehow or other, when I thought
of our Sal, the bearns, the poor Cows, and the Geese, why I could
have killed the whole Army, my own self.’ The other remarks, ‘Dang my
Buttons if that beant the head of that Rogue Boney--I told our Squire
this morning, What do you think, says I, the lads of our Village can’t
cut up a Regiment of them French Mounseers? and, as soon as the Lasses
had given us a Kiss for good luck, I could have sworn we should do it,
and so we have.’

Of loyal and patriotic songs, there are enough and to spare, but one
was very popular, and therefore should be reproduced:--


  Written by WM. THOS. FITZGERALD, Esqr.,
  And Recited by him at the ANNUAL MEETING of the
  14 July, 1803.

  Britons to Arms!--of apathy beware,
  And let your Country be your dearest care;
  Protect your Altars! guard your Monarch’s throne,
  The Cause of GEORGE and FREEDOM, make your own!
  What! shall that England want her Sons’ support,
  Whose Heroes fought at Cressy--Agincourt?
  And when great MARLBOROUGH led the English Van,
  In France, o’er Frenchmen triumphed to a man!
  By ALFRED’S great, and ever honoured, Name!
  By EDWARD’S prowess, and by HENRY’S fame!
  By all the generous Blood for Freedom shed,
  And by the Ashes of the Patriot Dead!
  By the bright Glory Britons lately won,
  On Egypt’s Plains, beneath the burning Sun!
  Britons to Arms! defend your Country’s Cause,
  Fight for your King! your Liberties; and Laws!
  Be France defied, her slavish yoke abhor’d,
  And place your safety only on your Sword.
  The Gallic Despot, sworn your mortal Foe,
  Now aims his last,--but his most deadly blow;
  With England’s Plunder tempts his hungry Slaves,
  And dares to brave you, on your Native Waves!
  If Briton’s right be worth a Briton’s care,
  To shield them from the Son of Rapine--swear!
  Then to Invasion be defiance giv’n--
  Your Cause is just--approv’d by Earth and Heaven.
  Should adverse winds our gallant Fleet restrain,
  To sweep his ‘bawbling[83] vessels’ from the main;
  And Fate permit him on our Shores t’advance--
  The Tyrant never shall return to France;
  Fortune, herself, shall be no more his friend,
  And _here_ the Hist’ry of his Crimes shall end--
  His slaughter’d Legions shall manure our shore,
  And England never know Invasion more.

This was the stilted sort of stuff given to our forefathers, to inflame
their patriotic zeal, and this example is of good quality compared to
most. Here is another one, which I give, as having the music, published
July 30, 1803:--


[Illustration: [Music]

  Cheerly my hearts of cour - age true, The hour’s at hand to
  try your worth; a glo - rious pe - ril waits for you, And
  val - our pants to lead you forth. The Gal - lic fleet ap -
  - proaches nigh, boys, Now some must conquer, some must die, boys; But
  that ap - pals not you nor me, For our watchword,
  it shall be: Brit - ons strike home, re- venge your coun-try’s
  wrongs, Brit-ons strike home, re - venge your country’s wrongs.


  Undaunted Britons now shall prove
    The Frenchman’s folly to invade
  Our dearest rights, our country’s love,
    Our laws, our freedom, and our trade;
  On our white cliffs our colours fly, boys;
  Which we’ll defend, or bravely die, boys;
  For we are Britons bold and free,
  And our watchword it shall be
                Britons strike home, &c.


  The Tyrant Consul, then too late,
    Dismayed shall mourn th’ avenging blow
  Yet vanquish’d, meet the milder fate
    Which mercy grants a fallen foe:
  Thus shall the British banners fly, boys,
  On Albion’s cliffs still rais’d on high, boys,
  And while the gallant flag we see,
  We’ll swear our watchword still shall be
                Britons strike home, &c.

About the last caricature in this month was by I. Cruikshank, who
depicted Napoleon (July 28, 1803) as ‘Preparing to invade.’ He is
pouring himself out a bumper, and soliloquising, ‘I must take a little
Dutch Courage, for I am sure I shall never attempt it in my sober
senses! Besides, when John Bull catches me, I can plead it was only a
Drunken Frolick! Diable! if I not go, den all my Soldiers call me one
Braggadocio, and one Coward, and if I do, begor, dey vil shew me in the
Tower, as one very Great Wild Beast.’

I. Cruikshank (July 28, 1803) tells us ‘How to stop an invader.’
Napoleon, and his army, are represented as having landed, and he is
asking ‘Which is the way to London?’ A countryman replies, giving
emphasis to his words by driving his pitchfork deeply into the Consul’s
breast, ‘Why, thro’ my Body--but I’se be thro’ yourn virst.’ His wife,
as a type of what was expected of the women of England, is emptying
the offensive contents of a domestic utensil over him. Bulldogs are
let loose, and are rapidly making an end of their enemies, in which
laudable enterprise they are materially assisted by prize-fighters and

The month of August was very fruitful in caricature, for in that month,
and in September, the Invasion scare was at its height.

There was an immense amount of Gasconading and Braggadocio going
about, as senseless as it was improbable. Take this for example: ‘The
Consequence of Invasion, or the Hero’s Reward. None but the brave
deserve the fair. The Yeomanry Cavalry’s first Essay’ (Ansell, August
1, 1803). A stout yeoman is swaggering about, with his sword drawn, and
carrying a pole, on the top of which is Bonaparte’s head, and, lower
down, he grasps some fifteen or twenty bleeding heads of decapitated
Frenchmen. He is saying, ‘There, you Rogues, there! there’s the _Boney
parts_ of them. Twenty more; Killed them!! Twenty more; Killed them
too!! I have destroyed half the army with this same Toledo.’ Women from
all parts are coming to hug and caress him, saying, ‘Bless the Warrior
that saved our Virgin Charms.’ ‘Ah! bless him, he has saved us from
Death and Vileation.’ ‘Take care, I’ll smother him with kisses.’ One
lady says to a man, not a Volunteer: ‘There you Poltroon look how that
Noble Hero’s caressed!’ whilst the poor wretch thus addressed exclaims,
‘Ods Niggins, I wish I had been a Soldier too, then the Girls would
have run after me, but I never could bear the smell of Gunpowder.’

‘John Bull offering Little Boney fair play’ is the title of one of
Gillray’s pictures (August 2, 1803), and depicts the fortified coasts
on both sides of the Channel, with John Bull, as a Jack Tar, stripped
to the waist for action. He wades half across to hurl defiance at his
foe. ‘You’re a coming? You be d--d! If you mean to invade us, why make
such a rout? I say little Boney, why don’t you come out? yes, d--n ye,
why don’t ye come out?’ Meanwhile Boney, secure in his fortress, and
with his flotilla safe on shore, looks over the parapet, and says, ‘I’m
a coming! I’m a coming!!!’


His epitaph was even obligingly written for him during his lifetime,
and here it is:--


  _Underneath a_ GIBBET, _over a_ DUNGHILL _near_ HASTINGS,
  _close by the_ SEA BEACH.

  Underneath this Dunghill
  Is all that remains of a mighty Conqueror,


  Who, with inflexible Cruelty of Heart,
  And unexampled depravity of Mind,
  Was permitted to scourge the Earth, for a Time,
  With all the Horrors of War:
  Too ignorant, and incapable, to do good to Mankind,
  The whole Force of his Mind was employed
  In oppressing the Weak, and plundering the Industrious:
  He was equally detested by all;
  His enemies he butchered in cold Blood;
  And fearing to leave incomplete the Catalogue of his Crimes,
  His friends he rewarded with a poison’d Chalice.
  He was an Epitome
  Of all that was vicious in the worst of Tyrants;
  He possess’d their Cruelty, without their Talents;
  Their Madness, without their Genius;
  The Baseness of one, and the Imbecility of another.
  Providence, at last,
  Wearied out with his Crimes,
  Returned him to the Dunghill from which he sprung;
  After having held him forth
  On the neighbouring Gibbet,
  As a Scare-crow to the Invaders of the British Coast.
  This Beach,
  The only Spot in our Isle polluted by his footsteps;
  This Dunghill
  All that remains to him of his boasted Conquest.
  Ere you pass by
  Kneel and thank thy God,
  For all the Blessings of thy glorious Constitution;
  Then return unto the peaceful Bosom of thy Family, and continue
  In the Practice of those Virtues,
  By which thy Ancestors
  Merited the Favor of the Almighty.

I. Cruikshank, in ‘Johnny Bull giving Boney a Pull’ (August 7, 1803),
brought out a caricature in which is graphically depicted the total
annihilation of the French flotilla, and John Bull is dragging
Napoleon, by a cord round his neck, to a gallows, surrounded by people
waving their hats in token of joy. Napoleon, not unnaturally, hangs
back, remarking, ‘Ah! Misericordi! Ah! Misericordi! Jean Bool, Jean
Bool, hanging not good for Frenchmen.’ But John pulls along manfully,
exclaiming, ‘I shant _measure the Cord_, you F----. I am sure it is
long enough for a dozen such Fellows as you.’

A picture by West (August 8, 1803), ‘Resolutions in case of an
Invasion,’ is divided into six compartments. A tailor, with his shears,
says, ‘I’ll trim his skirts for him.’ A barber, ‘I’ll lather his
wiskers.’ An apothecary, with a pestle and mortar, ‘I’ll pound him.’ A
cobbler, ‘I’ll strap his Jacket.’ A publican, ‘I’ll cool his Courage in
a pot of Brown Stout.’ An epicure, ‘I’ll eat him.’

The punishment, for any attempt at invasion, was prophesied as being
his certain downfall, and a nameless artist (August 12, 1803) produced
an engraving of ‘A rash attempt, and woful downfall’--Bonaparte
snatching at the British Crown.

  But as he climb’d to grasp the Crown,
  She knock’d him with the Scepter down,
  He tumbled in the Gulph profound,
  There doom’d to whirl an endless Round.

Britannia is represented as standing on a cliff, with a crown upraised
in her left hand, and a sceptre in her right. Napoleon is shewn as
tumbling into the infernal regions, to the great joy of attendant

‘Observations upon Stilts’ is by an unknown artist (August 12, 1803),
and represents Bonaparte upon a huge pair of stilts. He is looking,
over to England, through a telescope, and is saying, ‘How very
diminutive everything appears from this astonishing elevation. Who is
that little man, I wonder, on the Island, the other side the ditch? he
seems to be watching my motions.’ John Bull, the person referred to, is
also using his telescope, exclaiming, ‘Why surely that can’t be Bonny,
perch’d up in that manner. Rabbit him! if he puts one of his Poles
across here, I’ll soon lighten his timbers.’



‘Harlequin Invasion’ is by West (August 12, 1803). Napoleon is a
Harlequin, and points with his wooden sword ‘Invincible’ to Great
Britain, which is surrounded by goodly ships of war. Pantaloon, as the
Pope, typifying Italy, lies dead, and Holland, dressed as a Pierrot,
does not relish the command of his master, who tells him, ‘As Pantaloon
is no more, I insist on your joining me to invade that little island.’
Poor Holland replies, ‘D--m me--if I do, Master--for I don’t like the
look of their little ships--can’t you let me be at quiet--whisking me
here, and there, and everywhere.’


  Ladies and Gentlemen, to day
    With scenes adapted to th’ occasion
  A Grand new Pantomime we play,
    Entitled--Harlequin’s Invasion.


  No comic Pantomime before
    Could ever boast such tricks surprising;
  The Hero capers Europe o’er,
    But hush! behold the Curtain rising.


  And first that little Isle survey,
    Where sleeps a Peasant boy, so hearty;
  That little Isle is Corsica,
    That peasant boy is Bonaparte.


  Now lightnings flash and thunders roar,
    Dæmons of witchcraft hover o’er him;
  And rising thro’ the stage trap door,
    An evil genius stands before him.


  His arms in solemn state are cross’d,
    His voice appalls th’ amaz’d beholders;
  His head in circling clouds is lost,
    And crimson pinions shade his shoulders.


  Mortal, awake! the phantom cries,
    And burst the bonds of fear asunder!
  My name is _Anarchy_; arise!
    Thy future fortunes teem with wonder.


  To spread my reign the earth around,
    Here take this sword, whose magic pow’r,
  Shall sense, and right, and wrong confound,
    And work new wonders ev’ry hour.


  Throw off that peasant garb, begin
    T’ assume the party colour’d rover,
  And, as a sprightly Harlequin,
    Trip, lightly trip, all Europe over.


  He spoke, and instant to the view
    Begins the curious transformation;
  His mask assumes a sable hue,
    His dress a pantomimic fashion.


  Now round the Stage, in gaudy pride
    Capers the renovated varlet,
  Shakes the lath weapon at his side,
    And shines in blue, and white, and scarlet.


  High on a rock, his cunning eye
    Surveys half Europe at a glance;
  Fat Holland, fertile Italy,
    Old Spain, and gay, regenerate France.


  He strikes, with wooden sword, the earth,
    Which heaves with motion necromantic;
  The nations own a second birth,
    And trace his steps with gestures antic.


  The _Pope_ prepares for war, but soon
    All pow’rful Harlequin disarms him,
  And changing into _Pantaloon_,
    Each motion frets, each noise alarms him.


  With trembling haste he seeks to join
    His daughter _Gallia_, lovely rover!
  But she, transform’d to _Columbine_,
    Her father scorns, and seeks her lover.


  The _Dutchman_ next his magic feels,
    Chang’d to the _Clown_, he hobbles after;
  Blund’ring pursues the light of heels,
    Convulsing friends and foes with laughter.


  But all their various deeds of sin,
    What mortal man has ever reckon’d?
  The mischief plann’d by Harlequin,
    Fair Columbine is sure to second.


  They quickly kill poor _Pantaloon_,
    And now our drama’s plot grows riper,
  When e’er they frisk it to _some tune_,
    The Clown is forc’d to _pay the piper_.


  Each foreign land he dances through,
    In some new garb behold the Hero,
  Pagan and Christian, Turk and Jew,
    Cromwell, Caligula and Nero.


  A Butcher, Harlequin appears,
    The rapid scene to Egypt flying,
  O’er captive Turks his steel up rears,
    The stage is strew’d with dead and dying.


  Next by the crafty genius taught,
    Sportive he tries Sangrado’s trick,
  Presents a bowl, with poison fraught,
    And kills his own unconscious sick.


  Hey pass! he’s back to Europe flown,
    His hostile foll’wers disappointed:
  Kicks five old women from the throne,
    And dubs himself the Lord’s Anointed.


  In close embrace with Columbine,
    Pass, gaily pass, the flying hours;
  While prostrate at their blood stained Shrine,
    Low bow the European powers.


  Touch’d by his sword, the morals fly,
    The virtues, into vices dwindling,
  Courage is turn’d to cruelty,
    And public faith, to private swindling.


  With Atheist Bishops, Jockey Peers,
    His hurly burly Court is graced;
  Contractors, Brewers, Charioteers,
    Mad Lords, and _Duchesses disgraced_.


  And now th’ Invasion scene comes on;
    The patch’d and pyeball’d renegado,
  Hurls at Britannia’s lofty throne
    Full many an Insolent bravado.


  The trembling Clown dissuades in vain
    And finds too late, there’s no retreating,
  Whatever Harlequin may gain,
    The Clown is sure to have a beating.


  They tempt the main, the canvas raise,
    A storm destroys his valiant legions;
  And lo! our closing scene displays
    A grand view of th’ infernal regions.


  Thus have we, gentlefolks, to day,
    With pains proportion’d to th’ occasion,
  Our piece perform’d: then further say,
    How like you Harlequin’s Invasion?




    This comes hoping you are well, as I am at this present; but
    I say, Bony, what a damn’d Lubber you must be to think of
    getting _soundings_ among us English. I tell ye as how your
    Anchor will never hold; it isn’t made of good Stuff, so luff
    up, Bony, or you’ll be _fast aground_ before you know where you
    are. We don’t mind your Palaver and Nonsense; for tho’ ’tis all
    Wind, it would hardly fill the Stun’ sails of an English Man
    of War. You’ll never catch a Breeze to bring ye here as long
    as you live, depend upon it. I’ll give ye a Bit of Advice now;
    do _try_ and Lie as near the _Truth_ as possible, and don’t
    give us any more of your _Clinchers_. I say, do you remember
    how Nelson came _round_ ye at the Nile? I tell ye what, if you
    don’t take Care what you are about, you’ll soon be afloat in
    a way you won’t like, in a High Sea, upon a Grating, my Boy,
    without a bit of soft Tommy to put into your lanthorn jaws. I
    tell you now, how we shall fill up the Log-Book if you come;
    I’ll give ye the Journal, my Boy, with an Allowance for _Lee
    way_ and _Variation_ that you don’t expect. Now then, at Five
    A.M. Bonypart’s Cock-Boats sent out to amuse our ENGLISH
    MEN-OF-WAR with _fighting_, (that we like). Six A.M. Bonypart
    lands, (that is, if he can); then we begin to blow the Grampus;
    Seven A.M. Bonypart in a Pucker; Eight A.M. Bonypart _running
    away_; Nine A.M. Bonypart on board; Ten a.m. Bonypart sinking;
    Eleven a.m. Bonypart in _Davy’s locker_; Meridian, Bonypart
    in the North Corner of ----, where it burns and freezes at
    the same time; but you know, any port in a storm, Bony, so
    there I’ll leave ye. Now you know what you have to expect; so
    you see you can’t say I didn’t tell ye. Come, I’ll give ye a
    Toast: Here’s Hard Breezes and Foul Weather to ye, my Boy, in
    your Passage; here’s _May you be Sea Sick_; we’ll soon make ye
    _Sick of the Sea_; Here’s, May you never have a Friend here, or
    a Bottle to give him. And to conclude: Here’s the French Flag
    where it ought to be, under the ENGLISH.

  Bob + Rousem.

    P.S. You see as I coudn’t write, our Captain’s Clerk put the
    Lingo into black and white for me, and says _he’ll charge it to

Woodward (August 13, 1803) illustrated a very amusing little ballad.
The picture is simple. Napoleon, as usual, with an enormous cocked hat
and sword. John Bull, of ample rotundity, with his oaken cudgel. It
is called ‘John Bull and Bonaparte!! to the tune of the Blue Bells of

  When, and O when, does this little Boney come?
  Perhaps he’ll come in August, perhaps he’ll stay at home;
  But it’s O in my heart, how I’ll hide him should he come.

  Where, and O where, does this little Boney dwell?
  His birth-place is in Corsica--but France he likes so well,
  That it’s O the poor French, how they crouch beneath his spell.

  What cloathes, and what cloathes, does this little Boney wear?
  He wears a large cock’d hat, for to make the people stare;
  But it’s O my oak stick! I’d advise him to take care!

  What shall be done, should this little Boney die?
  Nine cats shall squall his dirge, in sweet melodious cry;
  And it’s O in my heart, if a tear shall dim my eye!

  Yet still he boldly brags, with consequence full cramm’d,
  On England’s happy island his legions he will land;
  But it’s O in my heart, if he does, may I be d--d.’

In June of this year, Bonaparte, and Josephine, took a tour into
Belgium, and the Côtes du Nord. What it was like, cannot better be told
than in the words of De Bourrienne. ‘Bonaparte left Paris on June 3:
and, although it was not for upwards of a year afterwards, that his
brow was encircled with the imperial diadem, everything connected with
the journey, had an imperial air. It was formerly the custom, when the
kings of France entered the ancient capital of Picardy, for the town
of Amiens to offer them, in homage, some beautiful swans. Care was
taken to revive this custom, which pleased Bonaparte greatly, because
it was treating him like a king. The swans were accepted, and sent to
Paris, to be placed in the basin of the Tuileries, in order to show
the Parisians, the royal homage which the First Consul received, when
absent from the Capital.’ So it was all through his progress. The
caricature here described is, of course, exaggerated, but it shows the
feeling which animated the popular breast on this particular journey.

‘Boney at Brussels’ is by I. Cruikshank (August 14, 1803), and here
he is represented seated on a throne, with a Mameluke, armed with
sword and pistol, on each side of him. He is provided with a huge fork
in each hand, with which he is greedily feeding himself from dishes
provided in the most humble and abject manner by all kinds of great

He has his mouth full of an ‘Address to the Deified Consul.’ The next
morsel, which is on one of the forks, is ‘To the Grand Consular Deity,’
and the other fork is dug well into ‘We burn with desire to lick the
Dust of your Deified feet.’ A prelate begs him to ‘Accept the Keys of
Heaven and Hell;’ and other dishes are labelled ‘Act of Submission,’
‘Your most abject Slave, Terror of France,’ and ‘The Idol of our
Hearts, Livers, Lights, Guts, and Garbage, Souls and all.’

‘John Bull out of all Patience!!’ is by Roberts (August 16, 1803), and
represents him in a Cavalry uniform, and a most towering rage, astride
of the British Lion, which is swimming across to France. He is shouting
out, ‘I’ll be after you, my lads--do you think I’ll stay at home
waiting for you? If you mean to come, d--n it, why don’t you come? do
you think I put on my regimentals for nothing?’ Boney and his army are
running away, the former calling out ‘Dat is right my brave Friends,
take to your heels, for here is dat dam Jean Bool coming over on his

The subjoined illustration also does duty for ‘The Sorrows of Boney,
or Meditations in the Island of Elba, April, 15, 1814,’ but, having
priority, it appears here as:--





_Tune ‘Bow, wow, wow.’_

  By gar, this Johnny Bull--be a very cunning elf, Sir,
  He by de Arts and Commerce thrive, and so he gain de pelf, Sir;
  But he no let us rob de land--or else, with naval thunder,
  He’ll send dat lion bold, Jack Tar, and make us all strike under.
                                Lack, Lack a day, fal lal, &c.
  By gar, de British Bulvarks be--a very grand annoyance,
  I’m told, against all EUROPE join’d, they’ve often dar’d defiance!
  Then what can France and Holland do? By gar, dat day me rue, Sir,
  When I de peaceful Treaty broke--to England prov’d untrue, Sir.
                                Lack, lack a day, fal lal, &c.

  And then, when in von passion thrown, by gar, I took occasion,
  To shew de _Gasconade de France_! and threat them with Invasion!
  John Bull, he made at me de scoff, and call’d me Gasconader,
  By gar, me find he ne’er will flinch--from any French Invader!
                                Lack, lack a day, fal lal, &c.

  And now, what vex me worse than all, John Bull prepare for war, Sir,
  For, fraught with vengeance, he send out that valiant dog, Jack Tar,
  By gar, he sweep de Channel clean, and den he mar our sport, Sir,
  He either take de ships of France, or block them in de port, Sir,
                                Lack, lack a day, fal lal, &c.

  This spoil’d my scheme for sending troops from Gallia’s shore to Dover,
  So then, by gar, me send them off, and then they took Hanover;
  But, for to ratify the terms, th’ ELECTOR did not choose, Sir,
  Because, I’m told, the British King, to sign them did refuse, Sir.
                                Lack, lack a day, fal lal, &c.

  O! next I make more gasconade, and then most loudly boast, Sir,
  That I would send flat-bottom’d boats, and soon invade de coast, Sir,
  ‘_That all the men in arms I found, by gar, I’d take their lives, Sir,
  And put to sword the Britons all, their children, and their wives,
                                Lack, lack a day, fal lal, &c.

  I found my boasting threats are vain, for now, all ranks, by gar, Sir,
  From fifteen, up to fifty-five, are all prepar’d for war, Sir,
  They swear, ‘no Gallic yoke they’ll bear, or Corsican’s proud sting,
  But, bravely for their Freedom fight, their Country, and their King!
                                Lack, lack a day, fal lal, &c.

  And then they talk of warlike deeds--of _Edward the Black Prince_,
  And how their _Harries_ fought of old--true courage to evince, Sir,
  In modern times, a _Nelson_ brave! and _Abercrombie’s_ fame, Sir,
  O’er Gallia’s fleets and armies too, have spread eternal shame, Sir.
                                Lack, lack a day, fal lal, &c.

  By gar, me always thought, till now, I was a mighty _Hero_!
  But then, I’m told, the people say, me cruel was as Nero,
  Because _three thousand Turks_ I slew, they say I was to blame, Sir,
  As also when at Jaffa I--did poison sick and lame, Sir.
                                Lack, lack a day, fal lal, &c.

  By gar, I find my ardor fail, and all my courage cool, Sir,
  De _World_ confess I am de _knave_--de _English_ call me _fool_, Sir;
  Hard fate! alas, that I am both! my heart, of grief, is full, Sir,
  By gar, me wish I was at _peace_! with honest _Johnny Bull_! Sir.
                                Lack, lack a day, fal lal, &c.




In order to understand the next caricature, it is necessary to go back
to January 16, 1749, when a famous hoax was played on the public. The
‘Gentleman’s Magazine’ for that month says, ‘A person advertised that
he would, this evening, at the _Theatre_ in the _Hay-market_, play
on a common walking cane the music of every instrument now used, to
surprising perfection; that he would, on the stage, get into a tavern
quart bottle, without equivocation; and while there, sing several
songs, and suffer any spectator to handle the bottle; that, if any
spectator should come mask’d, he would, if requested, declare who they
were; that, in a private room, he would produce the representation of
any person dead, with which the party requesting it could converse some
minutes as if alive, &c.’

The bait took, and the theatre was crowded: patience was exhausted, and
some one in the pit calling out that ‘For double prices, the conjurer
will go into a pint bottle,’ an uproar began, which ended in the
wreckage of the house, which was made into a bonfire outside, and the
carrying off of the treasury.

With this introduction we can the better understand ‘Britannia blowing
up the Corsican Bottle-Conjurer,’ by I. Cruikshank (August 17, 1803),
which represents Napoleon being violently ejected into the air, in an
extremely disorganised condition, from the mouth of a bottle which is
labelled ‘British Spirits composed of True Liberty, Courage, Loyalty
and Religion,’ and in which is seated Britannia, helmed, and armed with
spear and shield.

[Illustration: THE CORSICAN MOTH!]

Woodward designed ‘The Corsican Moth’ (August 22, 1803), which, flying
towards the candle, exclaims: ‘It is a very fierce flame; I am afraid I
shall singe my wings!’ George III. consoles himself with: ‘Thou little
contemptible insect, I shall see thee consumed by-and-by.’


This very vivid caricature explains itself. The French Court are
consuming all the good things to be got by the invasion of England in
anticipation, when the fearful ‘Mene, Mene, Tekel Upharsin,’ the mystic
handwriting on the wall, appears. Napoleon is in consternation, but
his wife and the assembled guests do not seem to notice it. Josephine
is here, as generally, depicted as being very fat. She was not so at
this time, nor for some time after. Madame Junot says: ‘I observed
that Josephine had grown very stout since the time of my departure
from Spain. This change was at once for the better and the worse. It
imparted a more youthful appearance to her face; but her elegant and
slender figure, which had been one of her principal attractions, had
entirely disappeared. She was now decidedly _embonpoint_, and her
figure had assumed that matronly air which we find in the statues
of Agrippina, Cornelia, &c.’ The three ladies behind her chair are
supposed to represent Pauline, who was afterwards the Princess
Borghese, the Princess Louise, and the Princess Joseph Bonaparte.

‘A Knock Down blow in the Ocean, or Bonaparte taking French leave,’
is by some unknown artist (August 24, 1803). John Bull, stripped to
the waist in true pugilistic style, has encountered Bonaparte in the
Channel, and, with one well-directed blow, has sunk him, leaving only
his hat and boots to tell the tale. With great satisfaction the old man
says: ‘There, my lad, I think that blow will settle the business. D--n
me, he is gone in such a hurry he has left his hat and spurs behind
him.’ The English give ringing cheers: ‘John Bull for ever! Huzza!
Huzza! Bravo! Bravo!’ But the French look very rueful, and, wringing
their hands and weeping, exclaim: ‘Ah! misericorde, pauvre Bonaparte. O
dat Terrible Jean Bool.’


    If there be one Person so lost to all Love for his Country, and
    the British Constitution, as to suppose that his Person or his
    Property, his Rights and his Freedom, would be respected under
    a Foreign Yoke, let him contemplate the following Picture--not
    Overcharged, but drawn from Scenes afforded by every Country:
    Italy, Holland, Switzerland, Germany, Spain, Hanover, which has
    been exposed to the Miseries of a French Invasion.

LONDON, _10 Thermidor--Year----_.

    General BONAPARTE made his public entrance into the capital,
    over London Bridge, upon a charger from his BRITANNIC MAJESTY’S
    Stables at Hanover, preceded by a detachment of Mamelukes.
    He stopped upon the bridge for a few seconds, to survey the
    number of ships in the river; and, beckoning to one of his
    Aid-de-camps, ordered the French flags to be hoisted above
    the English--the English sailors on board, who attempted to
    resist the execution of this order, were bayonetted, and thrown

    When he came to the Bank, he smiled with complaisance upon a
    detachment of French grenadiers, who had been sent to load
    all the bullion in waggons, which had previously been put in
    requisition by the Prefect of London, Citizen MENGAUD, for the
    purpose of being conveyed to France. The Directors of the Bank
    were placed under a strong guard of French soldiers, in the
    Bank parlour.

    From the Bank, the FIRST CONSUL proceeded, in grand procession,
    along Cheapside, St. Paul’s, Ludgate Hill, Fleet Street,
    and the Strand, to St. James’s Palace. He there held a
    grand Circle, which was attended by all his officers, whose
    congratulations he received upon his entrance into the Capital
    of these once proud islanders. BONAPARTE, previous to his
    arrival, appointed two Prefects, one for London, and one for
    Westminster. Citizen MENGAUD, late Commissary at Calais, is the
    Prefect of London, and Citizen RAPP, of Westminster. He also
    nominated Citizen Fouché to the office of Minister of Police.
    The Mansion-house has been selected for the residence of the
    Prefect of London, and Northumberland House for the residence
    of the Prefect of Westminster. As it has been deemed necessary
    to have the Minister of Police always near the person of the
    FIRST CONSUL, Marlborough House has been given to Citizen
    Fouché. Lodgings have been prepared elsewhere, for the late
    owners of that splendid Palace.

    London was ordered to be illuminated, and detachments of French
    Dragoons paraded the principal streets, and squares, all night.

_11 Thermidor._

    BONAPARTE, at five o’clock in the morning, reviewed the French
    Troops on the Esplanade at the Horse Guards. A Council was
    afterwards held, at which the following Proclamations were
    drawn up, and ordered to be posted in every part of the City:



            _St. James’s Palace._

    Inhabitants of London, be tranquil. The Hero, the Pacificator,
    is come among you. His moderation, and his mercy, are too well
    known to you. He delights in restoring peace and liberty to all
    mankind. Banish all alarms. Pursue your usual occupations. Put
    on the habit of joy and gladness.

    The FIRST CONSUL orders,

    That all the Inhabitants of London and Westminster remain in
    their own houses for three days.

    That no molestation shall be offered to the measures which the
    French Soldiers will be required to execute.

    All persons disobeying these Orders, will be immediately
    carried before the Minister of Police.

            (signed)              BONAPARTE.
        The Minister of Police    FOUCHÉ.


_To the French Soldiers._

    Soldiers! BONAPARTE has led you to the Shores, and the
    Capital of this proud island. He promised to reward his brave
    companions in arms. He promised to give up the Capital of the
    British Empire to pillage. Brave Comrades take your reward.
    London, the second Carthage, is given up to pillage for three

            (signed)                        BONAPARTE.
        The Minister of War, par interim    ANGEREAU.

    The acclamations of the French soldiery--_Vive Bonaparte_--_le
    Heros_--_le Pacificateur_--_le Magnanime_--resound through
    every street.

_12th, 13th, 14th, Thermidor._

    LONDON PILLAGED! The doors of private houses forced. Bands of
    drunken soldiers dragging wives, and daughters, from the arms
    of husbands, and fathers. Many husbands, who had the _temerity_
    to resist, butchered in the presence of their Children--Flames
    seen in a hundred different places, bursting from houses
    which had been set fire to, by the _vivacity_ of the troops.
    Churches broken open, and the Church plate plundered--The pews
    and altars converted into stabling--Four Bishops murdered, who
    had taken refuge in Westminster Abbey--The screams of women,
    and of children, mix with the cries of the soldiers--_Vive la
    Republique!_ _Vive Bonaparte!_

    St. Martin’s Church converted into a _depôt_ for the property
    acquired by the pillage of the soldiery.

_15 Thermidor._

    A proclamation published by the FIRST CONSUL, promising
    _protection_ to the inhabitants.

    The houses of the principal Nobility and Gentry, appropriated
    to the use of the French Generals. Every house is required to
    furnish so many rations of bread and meat for the troops.

    At a Council of State, presided over by BONAPARTE, the two
    Houses of Parliament are solemnly abolished, and ordered to be
    replaced by a Senate, and a Council of State. General MASSENA
    appointed Provisional President of the former, and General
    DESSOLLES of the latter. The Courts of Law are directed to
    discontinue their sittings, and are replaced by Military

_16 Thermidor._

    A contribution of twenty millions ordered to be levied upon
    London. A deputation was sent to BONAPARTE to represent the
    impossibility of complying with the demand, the Bank and the
    Capital having been pillaged. After waiting in the ante-chamber
    of the Consul for four hours, the deputation are informed by a
    Mameluke guard, that BONAPARTE will not see them. Two hundred
    of the principal citizens ordered to be imprisoned till the
    contribution is paid.

_17 Thermidor._

    A plot discovered by FOUCHÉ against the FIRST CONSUL, and three
    hundred, supposed to be implicated in it, sent to the Tower.

    Insurrections in different parts of the Capital, on account of
    the excesses of the soldiers, and the contribution of twenty
    millions. Cannon planted at all the principal avenues, and a
    heavy fire of grape-shot kept up against the insurgents.

    SHERIDAN, GREY, twenty Peers and Commons, among the latter is
    Sir SIDNEY SMITH, tried by the Military tribunals, for having
    been concerned in the _insurrection_ against France, and
    sentenced to be shot. Sentence was immediately carried into
    execution in Hyde Park.

_17 Thermidor._

    The Dock-yards ordered to send all the timber, hemp, anchors,
    masts, &c., to France. The relations of the British sailors at
    sea, sent to prison till the ships are brought into port, and
    placed at the disposal of the French. Detachments dispatched to
    the different Counties to disarm the people.

    The Island ordered to be divided into departments, and
    military divisions--the name of London to be changed
    for _Bona-part-opolis_--and the appellation of the
    country to be altered from Great Britain, to that of _La
    France insulaire_--Edinburgh to take the name of _Lucien
    ville_--Dublin, that of _Massen-opolis_.

    BRITONS! can this be endured?--Shall we suffer ourselves thus
    to be parcelled off?--I hear you one and all say, No! No!
    No!--To your Tents, O Israel!--for BRITONS NEVER WILL BE SLAVES.

       *       *       *       *       *


With an exact representation of



_As he may probably appear at the above Receptacle of Foreign
Curiosities, on, or before, Christmas 1803_.

    Ladies and Gemmen!

    This surprising Animal was taken by Admiral JOHN BULL, of the
    TRUE BRITON, one of his Majesty’s principal Line of Battle
    Ships. He possesses the Cunning of the Fox, the Rapacity of
    the Wolf, the bloodthirsty _Nater_ of the Hyena, the tender
    Feelings of the Crocodile, and the Obstinacy of an Ass. He has
    rambled over several parts of the world, where he played a
    number of wicked and ridiculous Tricks, particularly in Egypt;
    there he had like to have been _nabbed_ by Sir Sidney Smith,
    but contrived to steal away to France, where, after a Time,
    exerting all the bad Qualities he possesses, he so far got
    the better of his own species as to reign King Paramount over
    Thirty Millions of poor deceived Monkeys. ‘Come, come, Jacko;
    don’t look Melancholy, you shall have your Gruel with a Crust
    in it presently.’ Ladies and _Gemmen_, if I was to quit him an
    Instant, he would play a thousand _figaries_; break all your
    Crockery, drink up your Wine, play the Devil and Doctor Faustus
    with your Wives and _Darters_; eat your Provisions, steal your
    Goods and Chattels, and commit more Mischief here, than he did
    in Egypt. He’s of unbounded Ambition, and, by some fortunate
    Strokes of good Luck, more than by his Abilities, proved very
    successful in his Deceptions; but this Luck was not to last for
    ever. Puf’t up, as full as a blown bladder, with conceit, he
    thought he _coud_ conquer the four Quarters of the Globe: when,
    sailing with a party of large Baboons, who were called his
    body Guard, he stole, one dark Night, out of Boulogne Harbour,
    to make an attack, and seize the Island of Great Britain;
    where he assured his Companions of immense Wealth by their
    Plunders. But Admiral BULL coming up with him by break of day,
    when he was half Seas over, gave them a Broad Side, and _woud_
    have sunk them outright; but seeing the Crew were nothing but
    a Collection of miserable, deluded, poor, Brutes, he turned
    them adrift, and only seized their Leader to shew him as a


A suggestion was made that two could play at the game of Invasion, and
‘John Bull landed in France’ is a caricature by West (August 29, 1803).
He is in cavalry uniform, and, mounted on his lion, is pursuing the
French troops, who, bestriding frogs, are in full flight. The terrible
old man roars out, ‘D--m me, but I’ll put your Cavalry to the hop--I
only wish I could find out your Commander.’ But Boney is looking out of
a cottage chimney, remarking, ‘Mercy on me, what a terrible fellow. I
think I am tolerably safe here!’

West (August, 1803) describes the ‘Three plagues of Europe.’ Bonaparte
figures as ‘The Turberlent Mr. Fightall’; Pitt as ‘The Honourable Mr.
Taxall’; and the Devil as ‘The Worshipful Mr. Takeall.’





  Come listen every Lord and Lady,
    ‘Squire, Gentleman, and Statesman,
  I’ve got a _little Song_ to sing,
    About a _very great Man_!
  And, if the Name of BONAPARTE
    Should mingle in my Story,
  ’Tis with all due submission
    T’ his Honour’s Worship’s Glory.
                Bow, wow, wow, &c.

  The kindness of this philanthropic
    Gentleman extending,
  From Shore to Shore, Colossus like,
    Their grievances amending,
  To Britain would reach, if he could,
    From fancied Ills to save ye;
  But tho’ he likes us vastly well,
    He _does not like our Navy_!
                Bow, wow, wow, &c.

  With Egypt, once, he fell in Love,
    Because it was the high Road,
  To India, for himself and friends
    To travel by a nigh Road;
  And after making mighty Fuss,
    And fighting Day and Night there,
  ’Twas vastly ungenteel of us,
    _Who would not let him stay there_.
                Bow, wow, wow, &c.

  A Nobleman was sent to him,
    For Negotiation able,
  And _Bonaparte_ kindly set
    Him down at his own Table,
  And in a Story, two Hours long,
    The Gentleman was heard in,
  Whilst our Ambassador declar’d
    _He could not get a word in_.
                Bow, wow, wow, &c.

  With Belles and Beaux the drawing-room
    One morning it was quite full,
  And BONA, like _a Bantam cock_,
    Came crowing rather spiteful;
  He then began to huff and bluff,
    To show that War his Trade is;
  He scolded all the Englishmen,
    And frighten’d all the Ladies!!!
                Bow, wow, wow, &c.

  From Malta, next, he took his Text,
    My Lord look’d rather blue on ’t;
  For every Trick the Consul had,
    My Lord had one worth _two_ on ’t;
  Why, Gen’ral, says he, ’Sdeath and Fire,
    Unless you cease these Capers,
  They’ll publish every word you say
    In all the English Papers.
                Bow, wow, wow, &c.

  My Lord, says he, you needs must see,
    I pity British Blindness,
  And wish to open all your Eyes,
    Out of pure Love and Kindness,
  To make a generous People free,
    My Legions shall pell mell come,
  What think you then?--Why, Sir, I think
    _They’d be more free than welcome_.
                Bow, wow, wow, &c.

  When I come o’er, I’ll make all Britons
    Live in perfect bliss, Sir,
  I’m sure they will receive me just
    As kindly as the Swiss, Sir.
  The Odds an hundred are to one
    I fail, tho’ Fortune’s Minion.
  Says our Ambassador to him,
    _I’m quite of your opinion_.
                Bow, wow, wow, &c.

  My Lord, says he, I’ll take the Field.
    _You’d better take the Ocean._
  My plans are deep.--_Why, yes, they’ll reach
    The Bottom, I’ve a Notion._
  What would the English think to see
    Me ’twixt Boulogne and Dover?
  _Why, General, they’d surely think
    Your Worship half seas over!_
                Bow, wow, wow, &c.

  Your Government I’ll tame, says he,
    Since War you are so fond on;
  I’ve got my will in Paris here,
    And wish the same in London;
  I’ll rule your great _John Bull_! says he,
    I have him in the Ring, Sir.--
  Says John, I’ll not be rul’d by you,
    Nor any such a _Thing_, Sir.
                Bow, wow, wow, &c.

  Then bring my Flag, invincible,
    _A Scot took it long ago, Sir_.
  For now I think, your ships I’ll sink,
    And never strike a Blow, Sir,
  A clever Man has found a plan,
    A plan he’s surely right in,
  For if you beat the British Fleet,
    _It must not be at Fighting_.
                Bow, wow, wow, &c.

  Quite frantic now, he vows Revenge,
    The Moment that he’s landed,
  And proudly boasts, we cannot hope
    To fight him single handed.
  What, single handed, we can do,
    His troops shall know full well soon;
  For him, he learn’d it long ago,
    From _single handed_ Nelson.
                Bow, wow, wow, &c.

  Now, since their Minds are quite made up,
    Let me on this Occasion,
  Make one request to Neptune: Should
    They dream of an Invasion;
  _To bring them safely out of Port,
    On gentle Billows guide them,
  To where a set of British Boys
    May anchor close beside them._
                Bow, wow, wow, &c.

Reference is made to Napoleon’s attempts to stir up sedition in Ireland
in ‘An attempt on the Potatoe bag,’ by some artist unknown (August
1803). It shows an Irishman trudging along towards Dublin, having on
his back a huge sack of potatos, which Napoleon is slitting, allowing
the potatos to escape. Says Bonaparte: ‘I say, Paddy, Give up the bag
quietly, and you shall have this Purse of Gold.’ But Paddy replies:
‘I see what you are at, you sly Teaf of the World; you may cut out a
few of the Potatoes that are rotten at the core--but, by St. Patrick,
you’ll never get the whole bag--so you may pocket your Cash, and march
home and be D--d.’

Dean Swift’s ‘Gulliver’ is very frequently used as a _motif_ for
caricature, and Charles etched (August 1803) ‘Gulliver and his
Guide, or a Check String to the Corsican.’ King George, as King of
Brobdingnag, is seated in a gallery, looking through the invariable
glass at Gulliver (Napoleon), who is climbing a flight of steps to get
at him; but he has a rope round his neck, which is held by a sailor
armed with a stout oak cudgel. Says the King: ‘Ay, what! what! Does
the little Gulliver want my C *** n! Let him come, and he will soon
find how ’tis protected. Hearts of oak are our ships, Jolly tars are
our men, &c. &c.’ Napoleon, throttled by the rope, exclaims: ‘If these
fellows did not keep such a tight hand over me, I would soon try how
that Ornament would fit my head.’ Whilst the sailor, who has him in
hand and checks his advance, calls out: ‘Avast there, my little fellow;
for, D--n my Timbers, if I don’t take you Aback before you reach the
end of your Intended travels. So pull away, pull away, I say, for the
tight little bit of land in the Ocean.’

There is a charming libel on Napoleon in a periodical publication,
called ‘Ring the Alarum Bell,’ No. 3, August 27, 1803 (I believe it
only reached four numbers), the heading of which is, ‘Atrocities of
Brutus Napoleone Ali Buonaparté, who now pretends to be at war for
restoring the Knights of Malta, and who told the Egyptians’ (July
1798), ‘that he was a true Mussulman, and had been to Malta, on
purpose to drive from thence those Christian Infidels, the Knights!!!’

After a most scurrilous and incorrect version of his life, this
precious paper gives us a thrilling account of ‘_The Corsican’s
Drowning his own wounded Soldiers, and his Thievery_.

‘During the early engagements at Mantua with General Wurmsur, the
hospital for the French who were wounded was at Como. Some officers,
who are ready to swear to the truth of their assertion, passing through
this town in the month of April 1800, were informed by the inhabitants
that one morning they beheld, with unspeakable horror, the dead bodies
of a number of French soldiers floating upon the surface of the lake,
whom this infamous assassin, Buonaparté, had ordered to be cast into
it on the preceding night. Every one of these unfortunate wretches
were soldiers who had suffered amputation of some member or other!
This monster caused, at the same time, not only the dead, but even
the sick, in the hospitals to be thrown pell-mell into a ditch at
Salo, on the Lake of Guarda. It is a fact, well-known in Upper Italy,
that the Curate of Salo died with grief at the sight of this horrible

‘The pecuniary robberies of the Corsican are innumerable. At Leghorn
he caused a servant of the Grand Duke to bring him all the plate
belonging to that Prince, and kept himself an inventory, in order to
examine whether any article was missing. At Pisa a British nobleman
(the Marquis of D----) was robbed of his carriage, and other effects,
by a party of French Hussars. Buonaparte appropriated the carriage to
himself, and afterwards made use of it at Milan. France was then in
a state of profound peace with the Grand Duke. At Milan, Buonaparte
imprisoned the Nobles, and, in order to procure their release, their
consorts brought their diamonds to the wife of the Usurper.’

The following might well go as companion to ‘Pidcock’s Menagerie’:--



    Just arrived, at Mr. BULL’S MENAGERIE, in British Lane, the
    most renowned and sagacious MAN TIGER, or Ourang Outang called


    He has been exhibited through the greatest Part of Europe,
    particularly in Holland, Switzerland, and Italy, and lately in
    Egypt--He has a wonderful faculty of Speech, and undertakes
    to reason with the most learned Doctors in Law, Divinity, and
    Physic--He proves, incontrovertibly, that the strongest POISONS
    are the most Sovereign Remedies for Wounds of all kinds; and by
    a Dose or two, made up in his own Way, he cures his Patients
    of all their Ills by the Gross--He PICKS the POCKETS of the
    Company, and by a Rope,[85] suspended near a Lantern, shews
    them, as clear as Day, that they are all richer than before--If
    any Man in the Room has empty Pockets, or an empty Stomach,
    by taking a Dose or two of his POWDER of HEMP, he finds them
    on a sudden full of Guineas, and has no longer a Craving for
    Food; If he is rich, he gets rid of his tædium vitæ; and, if he
    is over-gorged, finds a perfect Cure for his Indigestion.--He
    proves, by unanswerable Arguments, that _Soupe Maigre_, and
    _Frogs_, are a much more wholesome food than _Beef_ and
    _Pudding_--and that it would be better for OLD ENGLAND, if
    her Inhabitants were all _Monkeys_ and _Tigers_ as, in times
    of Scarcity, one half of the Nation might devour the other
    half.--He strips the Company of their Cloaths, and when they
    are stark naked, presents a PAPER on the POINT of a BAYONET, by
    reading which they are all presently convinced that it is very
    pleasant to be in a state of Nature.--By a kind of hocus-pocus
    Trick, he breathes on a Crown, and it changes suddenly into a
    Guillotine.--He deceives the eye most dexterously; one Moment
    he is in the Garb of the MUFTI: the next of a JEW, and the next
    Moment you see him the POPE.--He imitates all Sounds; bleats
    like a _Lamb_; roars like a _Tiger_; cries like a Crocodile;
    and brays most inimitably like an Ass.

    He used also to perform some wonderful Tricks with _Gunpowder_;
    but he was very sick in passing the Channel, and has shewn
    great aversion to them ever since.

  _Admittance, One Shilling and Sixpence._

    N.B. If any Gentleman of the _Corps Diplomatique_ should wish
    to see his OURANG OUTANG, Mr. Bull begs a Line or two first; as
    on such Occasions, he finds it necessary to bleed him, or give
    him a Dose or two of cooling Physic, being apt to fly at them,
    if they appear without such preparation.


‘John Bull and the Alarmist’ is as well drawn as any of Gillray’s
caricatures (September 1, 1803). Sheridan, in the character of a
bill-sticker, having under his arm a sheaf of ‘Loyal Bills, Sherry
Andrew’s Address, Playbills,’ &c., and, with a _bonnet rouge_ peeping
out of his pocket, is telling John Bull the two last lines of the first
verse of the subjoined song.

The old boy stands resolutely before the throne, which he is ready to
defend with his huge oak cudgel carved with a bulldog’s head, and,
whilst nourishing himself on a tankard of ale, tells his informant his
opinion of his intelligence in the words of the second verse:--

  John Bull as he sat in his old Easy Chair,
  An Alarmist came to him, and said in his Ear,
  ‘A Corsican Thief has just slipt from his quarters,
  And is coming to Ravish your Wives and your Daughters!’

  ‘Let him come, and be D--d!’ thus roar’d out John Bull,
  ‘With my Crab-stick assured I will fracture his Scull,
  Or I’ll squeeze y^e vile reptile twixt my Finger and Thumb,
  Make him stink like a Bug, if he dares to presume.’

  ‘They say a full Thousand of Flat bottomed Boats,
  Each a Hundred and Fifty have, Warriors of Note;
  All fully determin’d to feast on your Lands,
  So I fear you will find full enough on your hands.’

  John smiling arose, upright as a post,
  ‘I’ve a Million of Friends bravely guarding my Coast,
  And my old Ally, Neptune, will give them a dowsing,
  And prevent the mean rascals to come here a lousing.’

I know not from what source the statistics relative to the strength of
the French flotilla, contained in the subjoined broadsheet, are taken.
It purports to be an extract from a French letter:--



    _Read the following detailed Account of his Preparations, and
    ask yourselves whether those who tell you so, are your Friends
    or your Enemies._

    ‘The Alertness of our People, employed in the several Yards
    along the Coasts, never had a parallel. I reckon 11,000
    Ship-Carpenters, and their necessary Assistants, Labourers,
    &c., employed here, and at _Calais_, _Dunkirk_, and _Ostend_,
    besides those at Work on the Boats preparing at _Ghent_,
    _Bruges_, and _Antwerp_.

    ‘At _Boulogne_, we have 36 Gun Boats ready, each carrying three
    heavy Pieces of Ordnance, Two fore, and One aft; besides 152
    of what are called _Flat Bottomed_ Boats; but they are now
    generally _rounded below_, and _keeled_. In three Weeks Time,
    we expect to have as many more in a State of perfect Readiness.

    ‘At _Calais_, several of the _Floating Batteries_, that opposed
    LORD NELSON, when he attacked Boulogne, are now fitting up, and
    about seventy boats that will carry 150 Men each.

    ‘At _Dunkirk_, and the adjacent Canals, there are 47 _Gun boats
    ready_, with remarkable heavy Ordnance; and not less than 220
    Boats for carrying men. They count upon being able to send 400
    of these vessels (great and small) to Sea, in less than Three

    ‘At _Ostend_, the _Gun Boats_, _Floating Batteries_, and
    _Vessels for carrying Soldiers_, that are now, and will be,
    completed during the present month, amount to 487. They work
    here during the Whole of the Moonlight nights.

    ‘I cannot, at present, exactly ascertain what Number of Men
    are employed, at _Bruges_ and _Ghent_; but they are extremely
    numerous. Such is the case at Antwerp.’

But not one of these vessels dared shew her nose out of harbour, for
every French port in the Channel was blockaded by English men-of-war,
of which there were some five hundred, of different sizes, afloat.
Sometimes this blockading business got tiresome, and it was relieved
by an occasional landing, on which occasions mischief to the French,
in some shape or other, was always included in the programme; or a
vessel would be cut out, or a few shells would be thrown into a town
such as Dieppe or Havre--anything to vary the monotony. At home they
were bragging and blustering of what they would do; afloat they were
_doing_, and we cannot tell from what fate their action saved us.

Woodward drew an amusing sketch of ‘John Bull shewing the Corsican
monkey’ (September 3, 1803), who is represented as seated on a Russian
bear, which is muzzled and led by John Bull, who thus expatiates on his
charge to the delighted audience: ‘My friends and neighbours, this is
no monkey of the common order; he is a very cholerick little gentleman,
I assure you. I had a vast deal of trouble to bring him to any kind of
obedience--he is very fond of playing with globes and scepters--so you
may perceive, I let him have one of each made of Gingerbread--in order
to amuse him in a strange country.’

A not very witty picture, ‘Buonaparte on his Ass,’ by an unknown artist
(September 14, 1803), represents Bonaparte on a donkey, which has got
itself in a terrible mess through trampling on Italy, Switzerland,
Holland, and Hanover, and is endeavouring to reach Malta, which,
however, is protected by the British Lion. Napoleon opines that, ‘This
d--d ass gets so entangled and unruly, I’m afraid I shall never be able
to reach Malta.’

  O’er countrys I’ll trample, where threats may prevail,
  But must let those alone where they will not avail,
  For on looking around me to find where to prance,
  To touch Malta, might be destruction to France.

Woodward drew (September 16, 1803) ‘The Corsican Macheath,’ with
Napoleon singing:--

  Which way shall I turn me?
    How can I decide
  The Prospects before me?
    I long for to stride.
  But ’tis this way--or that way,
    Or which way I will,
  John Bull at his Post,
    Is prepared with a Pill.



‘A full and particular Account of the Trial of Napoleon Buonaparte
before John Bull,’ drawn by Woodward, etched by Cruikshank (September
14, 1803), is a broadside not remarkable for artistic merit; it does
not even give a fair idea of Napoleon’s features. The letterpress is as

    The Court being opened, and John Bull on the bench, Napoleon
    Buonaparte was put to the Bar, charged with various high
    crimes, thieving, and misdemeanours. Counsellor Tell Truth
    opened the case on the part of the prosecution, as follows:

    _Counsellor._ May it please your worship Mr. John Bull, and
    Gentlemen of the Jury, From the Indictment now before you,
    you will perceive the prisoner stands charged as follows:
    that he, Napoleon Buonaparte, on the 28th of December, 1793,
    caused at Toulon, when the siege was over, fifteen hundred
    men, women, and children, to be fired upon with grape shot;
    that by these means he became a favourite of Robespierre, and,
    in concert with that destroyer, did on the 13th Vendemaire,
    October 4, 1795, sweep the streets of Paris near the Pont Neuf
    with artillery, and covered the steps of St. Roch with heaps
    of slaughtered bodies; the persons massacred on the whole
    amounted to about eight thousand. At Pavia, the magistrates
    having interfered to save the people from the bayonet, were
    bound together, and shot by his order; he also burnt the town
    of Benasco, and massacred the inhabitants. At Alexandria he
    gave up the city to his soldiers for four hours; the old
    people, women, and children, flew to the mosques, but the
    mosques were no protection from brutal fury, though Buonaparte
    professed himself a Turk;--at Jaffa, horrid to relate! three
    thousand eight hundred prisoners were marched to a rising
    ground, and there destroyed by means of musquetry, grape shot,
    and the bayonet; in short, his various massacres, robberies,
    and pillage, are too numerous to bring forward. I shall only
    observe, that this gentle, this merciful man, at the above
    place, Jaffa, finding his hospitals crowded with sick of his
    own army, caused the whole to be poisoned; thus, in a few
    hours, five hundred and eighty soldiers died miserably by order
    of their General--; so says Sir Robert Wilson.

    _John Bull._ Mercy on me, Mr. Tell Truth, let me hear no more,
    it will lift my wig off with horror!!!

    _Counsellor T. T._ I shall briefly observe, that this man,
    after overrunning all Italy, France, Holland, Switzerland,
    stealing our beloved George’s horses at Hanover, and various
    other sacrifices to his unbounded ambition, had the audacity to
    declare he would invade the happy shores of Great Britain, and
    disturb the fireside of honest John Bull and his children; but
    he was stopped in his career by a single English seaman, who
    will lay the particulars before the Court. Crier, call in Tom

    _Crier._ Tom Mizen, come into Court.

    _John Bull._ Now, Mister Mizen, what have you to say?

    _Tom Mizen._ You must know, Mr. Bull, having, as it were,
    lashed myself to a love of my King and Country, and hearing the
    land lubber at the bar was about to bring over his Cock boats;
    I thought myself, in duty bounden, to see what sort of game he
    was after; so, rigging out my little skiff the Buxom Kitty, I
    clapped a few pounders aboard, with an allowance of grog, and
    set sail; when I got near Bull-hog-ney--I think they call it
    so in their palaver--but I never can think of their outlandish
    palaver, not I--howsomdever I soon spied a little gun boat
    or two, and on board one of them I saw a little pale-faced
    olive-coloured man in a large cocked hat, taking measure of
    the sides: may I never set sail again, said I, if that is not
    little Boney--so I made no more ado, but got ready my cordage
    and grappling irons, and after one broadside, towed the little
    gentleman into Brighton.

    _John Bull._ Bravo, Mister Mizen--now let us hear what Mynheer
    Dutchman has to say.

    _Dutchman._ Indeed, Mynheer Bool, I have nothing to say in
    his favour--he has robbed me of my liberty, my money, and
    everything that is dear to me.

    _Italian._ I am precisely in the same position.

    _Swiss._ And I.

    _The Pope._ I once had a voice in the senate, but he has
    totally abridged my power.

    _Hanoverian, &c._ We are one and all tired of his tyrannical

    _John Bull._ Then it appears to me no one will speak in his

    _From the Court._ Not one.

    _John Bull._ Well then--what has the prisoner to say in his own

    _Buonaparte._ I am a man of few words, and leave my defence,
    entirely to my counsel.

    _The Devil, as Counsellor for the Prisoner._ Mr. Bull, and
    Gentlemen of the Jury, I blush for the first time in my life;
    it is well known I am the father of lies and mischief, and have
    had the prisoner at the bar a considerable time in training,
    but he really goes so much beyond my abilities, that I entirely
    give up to the discretion of the Jury.

    _John Bull._ I shall very briefly, gentlemen, sum up the
    evidence; you have heard a long and serious detail of the
    prisoner’s cruelties in different parts of the world. The
    conduct of our worthy countryman, Tom Mizen, you must all
    admire; you perceive there is not one person to speak in his
    favour; and even his old counsel the Devil will have nothing to
    do with him--I therefore leave him to your verdict.

    The Jury, without leaving the Court, pronounced the prisoner

  John Bull then passed sentence, as follows:

    NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE--after a fair trial, you have been found
    guilty of various high crimes and misdemeanours, in different
    parts of this world. I am a man that delights not in blood;
    I therefore sentence you to be turned over to the care of my
    trusty and beloved friend Mr. Pidcock, proprietor of the Wild
    beasts over Exeter ‘Change in the Strand; there to be publicly
    shewn to my fellow citizens, inclosed in an iron cage for three
    months; after the expiration of which time, I sentence you to
    be transported to your native town of Ajaccio in Corsica for
    three months, and, for the remainder of your life, to be hung
    up by your legs in the mines of Mexico.

    Mr. Pidcock attended with a cage, and disposed of the prisoner
    according to his sentence; he appeared extremely hardened
    during the whole of the trial. The Court was uncommonly crowded.

‘Buonaparte’s Soliloquy at Calais, written and designed by G. M.
Woodward,’ was published September 21, 1803. It is as follows:--

  To go or not to go? that is the question;--
  Whether ’tis better for my views to suffer
  The ease and quiet of yon hated rival,
  Or to take arms against the haughty people,
  And by invading, end them? T’ invade,--to fight,--
  No more! and by a fight, to say we end
  The envy and the thousand jealous pangs
  We now must bear with; ’tis a consummation
  Devoutly to be wish’d. T’ invade--to fight--
  To fight?--perchance be beat: aye, there’s the rub;
  For in our passage hence what ills may come,
  When we have parted from our native ports,
  Must give us pause there’s the respect
  That makes th’ alternative so hard a choice.
  For who would bear their just and equal laws,
  Their sacred faith, and general happiness,
  That shew in contrast black our tyrant sway,
  Our frequent breach of treaty, and the harms
  Devouring armies on the people bring,
  When he himself could the dark shame remove
  By mere invasion? Who would tamely view
  That happy nation’s great and thriving power,
  But that the dread of falling on their coast,
  (That firm and loyal country, from whose shores
  No enemy returns,) puzzles the will,
  And makes us rather bear the ills we have,
  Than fly to others that we know not of?
  Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
  And thus the native hue of resolution
  Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought;
  And enterprises of great pith and moment,
  With this regard, their currents turn awry,
  And lose the name of action.


‘The Fable of the Bundle of Faggots exemplified, or Bonaparte baffled,’
by an unknown artist (September 20, 1803), shows Napoleon unable to
break the bundle of _Britons_. His foot rests on a heap of broken
faggots, all conquered nations, but this is too hard a job for him, as
he confesses: ‘Au diable! all I can do, they’ll neither bend or break.’

An unknown artist (September 1803) gave us, ‘A Peep at the Corsican
Fairy.’ Here little Boney is chained to a table and padlocked by _The
British Navy_. An Italian, Swiss, Dutchman, and Spaniard are looking
curiously at him, thus making their remarks: ‘Monsieur John Bull, I
think I have seen this little Gentleman before--he was with us in
Italy.’ ‘We shall never forget him in Switzerland.’ ‘My frow once
persuaded me to show our house, and he took possession of the whole
premises.’ ‘By St. Diego, he is a curious little fellow.’ John Bull is
showing him, and has a sweetmeat labelled ‘Malta’ in his hand: ‘Oh yes,
sir, he is a great Traveller--but don’t come too near him; he is very
cholerick; he put himself into a great passion with me about the sugar
plumb I hold in my hand--indeed, if it was not for my little chain and
padlock, I could not keep him in any sort of order.’


It is well known that Talleyrand was averse to the intended invasion
of England, and some time in September 1803, Gillray produced ‘The
Corsican Carcase Butcher’s Reckoning Day, New Style, _No Quarter_
Day!’ a portion of which is here given. Talleyrand (his ecclesiastical
status expressed by the cross on his partially military cocked hat)
restrains Napoleon from invading England, although the Conqueror has
on his seven-league boots. In the distance are the white cliffs of
Albion, surrounded by ships of war, and a huge bull bellows defiance.
At the open door the Russian bear looks in, enraging Napoleon
almost to frenzy. On the ground is a coop full of foxes labelled
‘From Rome, not worth killing.’ ‘The Germanic Body’ lies in a sadly
mutilated condition, having lost its head, feet, and hands; one of the
latter--the right hand--lies close by, labelled ‘Hanover.’ A poor,
lean, gaunt dog, ‘Prussia,’ is in a kennel ‘put up to fatten.’ The food
provided for it is blood, or ‘Consular Whipt Syllabub.’ In a trough lie
the bodies of six Mamelukes, ‘Jaffa Cross breeds,’ whose blood drains
into a receptacle ‘Glory.’ On the walls are hung a sheep, ‘True Spanish
Fleec’d’; a dead Monkey, ‘Native Breed’; an ass ‘from Switzerland,’
and a pig ‘from Holland.’





  Says Boney the Butcher to Talley his man,
  One settling day as they reckon’d,
      ‘Times are hard--’twere a sin,
      Not to keep our hand in’--
  Talley guessed at his thoughts in a second.


  Then he reach’d the account book--turn’d over awhile;
  ‘I have it--see here are the Dutch, Sir.’
      Boney cries ‘It appears
      That they’re much in arrears.’
  Quoth Talley ‘_They don’t owe us much, Sir!_’


  ‘Here’s Parma, Placentia; there’s Naples and Rome.’
  Talley smil’d ‘They are nothing but bone, Sir!’
      ‘For the present pass Prussia;
      What think you of Russia?’
  ‘_’Twere as good that we let her alone, Sir!_’


  ‘My ambition unsated, my fury unquenched,
  Let Europe now shake to her bases:
      For my banner unfurl’d,
      I defy all the world,
  And _spit in th’ ambassadors’ faces_.’


  Seeing raw-head and bloody bones wondrous irate,
  Talley turn’d o’er the leaf with his finger;
      ‘Here’s Hanover--if--’
      ‘If what?’ in a tiff
  Cries Boney, ‘Tell Mortier to bring her.


  ‘Let her bleed till her life strings are ready to burst,
  To drain her let Massena shew you;
      The job being done,
      And all her fat run,
  We’ll give up her trunk to--_you know who_.


  ‘This will do for a breakfast--read on.’ Talley read,
  Each page they conn’d over and over,
      ‘I can find nothing here;
      We must stop, Sir, I fear.’
  Boney scowl’d, _and then pointed to Dover_.


  ‘Shall I want employ--whilst a breed there exists
  So sleek, and so tempting to slaughter?
      Reach my cleaver and steel,
      I’ll not sit at a meal--
  Till’--Talley cries ‘Think of the _Water_.’


  ‘A soul such as mine, by the Koran I swear,
  Such childish impediment scorns, Sir;
      I will bait this great Bull,
      And his crest I will pull.’
  Cries Talley ‘_Remember his horns, Sir_.’


  ‘Psha! my mouth ’gins to water, and yearns for the feast,
  Such dainty, such delicate picking;
      By his horns I will seize him,
      Goad, worry, and teaze him:’
  Quoth Talley--‘_He’s given to kicking_.’


  ‘Let him kick, let him toss, and for mercy implore,
  Be mine the proud task to refuse it;
      The fates shall obey,
      I will have my way;’
  Talley mutters, ‘_I hope you won’t lose it_.’


  ‘Sound the cleaver and marrow bones,’ Boney exclaims,
  ‘Strait this herd in my power shall be, Sir;’
      ‘Should you once reach the shore,’
      (Talley said somewhat lower,)
  ‘You’ll soon be at top of the tree, Sir.’


  ‘Don’t jest with thy master, thou recreant knave!
  Am I, Sir, or am I, Sir, no king?
      By the Prophet I swear’--
      ‘Cry you mercy--forbear!’
  Quoth Talley, ‘_I thought you were joking_.’


  ‘Am I such a lover of jibes or of jests,
  Do I ever smile?’ Boney cried, ‘Sir;’
      ‘No, that I may say
      But to blast or betray;’
  (But this, Talley uttered aside, Sir.)


  He calls on Great Mahomet, swears by his beard,
  The Lama he begs to be civil;
      Now tells all his complaints
      To the Calendar Saints,
  And now sends them all to the Devil.


  _Thus prepared_, he clasp’d firm the dread steel in his hand
  And wielded his cleaver on high, Sir;--
      ‘Oh thou Bull, thou _Grand Bête_!
      Oh thou barb of my Fate!
  This day thou most surely shalt die, Sir!’


  Tho’ artful and cunning some madmen appear,
  The simplest expedient will turn ’em;
      Talley saw what he meant;
      On the schemes he was bent,
  And fully resolv’d to adjourn ’em.


  Now Boney grown wilder, his eyes seem’d to start,
  And loudly began he to bellow;
      When Talley seized hold
      Of this hero so bold,
  And pinion’d _the poor little fellow_.


  ‘Oh, brave, great, and noble, magnanimous man!!!!!!
  To save thee thy servant is bound, Sir;
      The Sea it is deep,
      And the shores they are steep,
  _Most certainly you will be drown’d, Sir_.


  ‘Think how precious your life is to France and to me,
  Obey then your fate, and don’t mock it;
      Think what we shou’d do,
      Mighty Sir, without you,
  With our _liberties all in your pocket_.


  ‘Nay--_sweet, gentle_ Sir’ (Boney kick’d with all might),
  ‘Oh!--this chivalry’s quite out of fashion!’
      Talley had his own way,
      Not a word did Bo say,
  For speak he could not for his passion.


  ‘Dread Sir, your great project is worthy yourself,
  Your knife shall soon hit the bull’s throat, Sir,
      I’d only premise,
      Were I fit to advise,
  _’Twould be better to order a boat_, Sir.’


  ‘A boat, aye, a boat! why there’s reason in that,’
  Boney cries with a scowl of delight, Sir;
      For the truth must be told,
      He knew Talley of old,
  And felt in a devilish fright, Sir.


  Boney thought that the boat was a much safer plan,
  He voted the counsel discreet, Sir;
      Quoth Talley ‘’Tis done,
      And the day is your own,
  _Just--take--care--to avoid the Fleet_, Sir.’


  Talley cautiously then let the little man down,
  When the little man softened his features;
      Yet though little in size, Sir,
      His soul is as high, Sir,
  As the cross at the top of Saint Peter’s.


  Little Boney shook hands then with Talley the good;
  (_And thought how he best might dispatch him_)
      Whilst Talley as meek,
      Kiss’d the Mussulman’s cheek,
  (_And swore in his heart to o’er match him_.)


  They drank to their hopes--hob a nobb’d to their scheme,
  Which promis’d such royal diversion;
      Thus cordial they sat,
      And, in _harmless chit chat_,
  Sketch’d the _plan of this water excursion_.


  When the boat will be ready we none of us know,
  Talley swears ’twill be here in a trice, Sir;
      But it must be confess’d,
      Boney’s not in such haste,
  Since he thought of the business twice, Sir.


  Then a health to the Butcher! and life long enough,
  That he once of the Bull may a view get,
      For, whenever we meet,
      If he _skulk from the_ FLEET,
  _We will find him head quarters in_ NEWGATE.



‘The Corsican Locust’ (West, September 1803) shows him hovering over a
picnic party, saying: ‘Bless me, how comfortably these People live.’
The party consists of an Englishman, Irishman, and a Scotchman. The
first has roast beef, plum-pudding, and a foaming tankard, before him,
and, regarding the insect, says: ‘As sure as I’m alive, that Corsican
locust smells the Roast Beef and Plumb pudding.’ Paddy has only
‘praties,’ but looks up at it, and asks: ‘Perhaps, my Jewel, ’tis a
potatoe or two you want, but the divil a halfpeth do you get from me.’
The Scotchman, with his basin and spoon in his hands, thinks: ‘Perhaps
the Cheeld would like a little o’ my Scotch Broth--but Sandy is too
cunning for that.’

‘The Grand Triumphal Entry of the Chief Consul into London’ is by an
unknown artist (October 1, 1803). He is escorted by volunteer cavalry,
and is seated, bareheaded and handcuffed, with his face towards the
tail of a white horse,[86] his legs being tied under its belly. The
horse is led by two volunteers, one of whom carries a flagstaff with
the tricolour under the Union Jack, and on the summit is perched
Boney’s huge hat, labelled ‘For Saint Pauls.’ One of the mob is calling
out: ‘We may thank our Volunteers for this glorious sight.’


Of ‘The Corsican Pest, or Belzebub going to supper,’ by Gillray
(October 6, 1803), only a portion is given in the illustration, but
nothing of moment is omitted. The following are the lines under this

  Buonaparte they say, aye good lack a day!
    With French Legions will hither come swimming,
  And like hungry Sharks, some night in the dark,
    Mean to frighten our Children and Women.
                          Tol de rol.

  When these Gallic Foisters gape wide for our Oisters,
    Old Neptune will rise up with glee,
  Souse and Pickle them quick, to be sent to old Nick,
    As a treat from the God of the Sea.
                          Tol de rol.

  Belzebub will rejoice at a Supper so nice,
    And make all his Devils feast hearty;
  But the _little tit bit_, on a fork, he would spit,
    The Consular Chief, Buonaparté!
                          Tol de rol.

  Then each Devil suppose, closely stopping his nose,
    And shrinking away from the smell,
  ‘By Styx,’ they would roar, ‘such a damn’d Stink before
    Never entered the kingdom of Hell.
                          Tol de rol.

  Full rotten the heart of the said Buonaparte,
    Corrupted his Marrow and Bones,
  French evil o’erflows, from his Head to his Toes,
    And disorder’d his Brains in his Sconce!
                          Tol de rol.

  His pestiferous breath, has put Millions to Death,
    More baneful than Mad dog’s Saliva,
  More poisonous he, all kingdoms agree,
    Than the dire Bohan-Upas of Java--
                          Tol de rol.

  By the favour of Heaven, to our Monarch is given
    The power to avert such dire evil,
  His subjects are ready, all Loyal and Steady,
    To hurl this damn’d Pest to the Devil.
                          Tol de rol.

An unknown artist (October 11, 1803) gives us ‘The Ballance of Power
or the Issue of the Contest.’ The hand of Providence is holding the
balance, and John Bull, whose good qualities are named ‘Valour,
Justice, Honor, Integrity, Commerce, Firmness, Trade, Heroism, Virtue,’
is rapidly ascending; and, according to his own account, ‘There’s a
sweet little Cherub that sits up aloft, will take care of the fate of
John Bull. But poor Boney, with a heavy burden on his back of ‘Shame,
Disgrace, Obloquy, Cruelty, Murder, Plunder, Rapine, Villainy, and
Hypocrisy,’ is sinking into the earth, which emits flames to consume

‘Thoughts on Invasion, both sides the water,’ by Charles (October 11,
1803), shows us the English coast defended by volunteers. John Bull,
laughing, is seated in a chair, under which is a cornucopia, running
over with corn, wine, beef, and all kinds of provisions. The old boy
is chuckling: ‘I can’t help laughing at the thought of Invasion, but
there is no knowing what a mad man may attempt, so I’ll take care to
have my coast well lined, and I think 80,000 such men as me, able to
eat all the Boney rascals in France, and if they mean Invasion, I have
sent a Specimen of Bombs into Calais!’ The ships are shown in the act
of bombarding that place, while Boney sits very miserable, with a
tricolour foolscap on his head, moaning: ‘I wish I had never promis’d
to Invade this terrible John Bull, but how shall I avoid it, with
Credit to myself and honour to the French Nation? and this bombarding
Calais gives me the Bl---- Blu---- Blue Devils.’ A blue devil behind
him is saying: ‘You must go now, Boney, as sure as I shall have you in
the end.’

‘The little Princess and Gulliver’ is by Ansell (October 21, 1803),
and, of course, the Gulliver is Napoleon, whom a Brobdingnagian
princess (Charlotte of Wales) has plunged into a basin of water, and,
with her fist, keeps beating him as he rises to the top, saying: ‘There
you impertinent, boasting, swaggering pigmy--take that. You attempt
to take my Grandpapa’s Crown indeed, and plunder all his subjects;
I’ll let you know that the Spirit and Indignation of every Girl in the
Kingdom is roused at your Insolence.’

‘The Centinel at his Post, or Boney’s peep into Walmer Castle!!’
(Ansell, October 22, 1803) shows Boney, with a boat-load of troops,
arrived on the English Coast, but they are at once disconcerted by the
appearance of the sentinel, Pitt, who challenges, ‘Who goes there?’
With abject fear depicted on the countenance of Bonaparte and his
followers, the former exclaims: ‘Ah! Begar--dat man alive still. Turn
about, Citoyens--for there will be no good to be done--I know his
tricks of old!!’

There are two caricatures on the same subject, one attributed to
Gillray, but signed C.L.S. (October 25, 1803), the other by I.
Cruikshank, to which the same date is attributed. One is evidently
copied from the other, for the _motif_ is the same in both. I prefer
the former, and therefore describe it. It is called ‘French Volunteers
marching to the Conquest of Great Britain, dedicated (by an Eye
Witness) to the Volunteers of Great Britain.’ A mounted officer
leads a gang of chained, handcuffed, and pinioned, scarecrow-looking
conscripts, some of them so weak that they have to be carried in
paniers on donkey-back, or drawn on a trolley; whilst a poor,
dilapidated, ragged wretch, also chained by the neck, and with his
hands tied behind him, brings up the rear of the procession.

‘John Bull guarding the Toy Shop’ (J. B., October 29, 1803) shows a
shop-window containing such toys as the India House, St. James’s, the
Bank, Custom House, Tower, and the Treasury. Little Boney, with his
handkerchief to his eyes, is weeping, and crying: ‘Pray, Mr. Bull, let
me have some of the Toys, if ’tis only that little one in the Corner’
(the Bank). But John Bull, who is in full regimentals, and armed with
his gun, replies, in his rough, insular way: ‘I tell you, you shan’t
touch one of them--so blubber away and be d--d.’

The volunteer force was a great factor in face of the Invasion,
and it was computed to number 350,000 men.[87] We know, in our own
times, that, at a mere whisper of invasion, men enrolled themselves as
volunteers by thousands, and we have never heard that whisper repeated.
The enthusiasm of the citizen army was very great, and twice in October
1803 (on the 26th 14,500 men, and on the 28th about 17,000), the King
reviewed these volunteers in Hyde Park. It will be curious briefly to
note some particulars respecting the pay and clothing of volunteers.
They are taken from the circular papers of regulations which were sent
from Lord Hobart’s office to the Lords Lieutenant of the different

    8. When not called out on actual service, constant pay to be
    allowed for 1 Sergeant and 1 Drummer per Company, at the same
    rates as in the disembodied Militia; the pay of the Drummer
    to be distributed at the discretion of the Commandant; pay
    (as disembodied Militia) for the rest of the Sergeants and
    Drummers, and for the Corporals and private men, to be allowed
    for two days in the week, from the 25th of February to the 24th
    of October, and for one day in the week from the 25th day of
    October to the 24th of February, both inclusive, being 85 days
    pay per annum, but for effectives only, present under arms, on
    each respective day. Pay may, however, be charged for persons
    absent by sickness, for a period not exceeding three months, on
    the Commanding Officer’s Certificate to that effect. Sergeants
    1/6, Corporals ½, Drummers and Privates 1/.

    9. If a Corps, or any part thereof, shall be called upon,
    in case of any riot or disturbance, the charge of constant
    pay to be made for such services must be at the rates before
    specified, and must be supported by a Certificate from his
    Majesty’s Lieutenant, or the Sheriff of the County; but, if
    called out in case of actual Invasion, the Corps is to be paid
    and disciplined in all respects as the Regular Infantry, the
    Artillery Companies excepted, which are then to be paid as the
    Royal Artillery.

    10. The whole to be clothed in Red, with the exception of the
    Corps of Artillery, which may have Blue clothing, and Rifle
    Corps, which may have Green, with black belts.

    _Allowance for Clothing._

  £3  3 9 for each Sergeant,
   2 12 0 for each Corporal,
   2  3 6 for each Drummer,
   1 10 0 for each Private Man,

    and to be repeated at the end of three years; the Sergeant
    Major, and 1 Sergeant, and 1 Drummer per Company, to have
    clothing annually.

    11. An annual allowance to be made for each Company in lieu of
    every contingent expense heretofore defrayed by Government,
    viz. £25 for companies of 50 Private men, with an additional
    allowance of £5 for every 10 Private Men beyond that number.

There is an amusing caricature (October 18, 1803) illustrating
Talleyrand’s disinclination to the projected invasion of England.

In his ‘Voyage to Brobdingnag,’ Lemuel Gulliver, speaking of his enemy
the King’s Dwarf, says: ‘He had before served me a scurvy trick, which
set the queen a-laughing, although at the same time she was heartily
vexed, and would have immediately cashiered him, if I had pot been so
generous as to intercede. Her majesty had taken a marrow-bone upon her
plate, and, after knocking out the marrow, placed the bone again in the
dish erect, as it stood before; the dwarf, watching his opportunity
when Glumdalclitch was gone to the sideboard, mounted the stool that
she stood on to take care of me at meals, took me up in both hands, and
squeezing my legs together, wedged them into the marrow bone above my
waist, where I stuck for some time, and made a very ridiculous figure.
I believe it was near a minute before any one knew what was become
of me; for I thought it below me to cry out. But, as princes seldom
get their meat hot, my legs were not scalded, only my stockings and
breeches in a sad condition. The dwarf, at my entreaty, had no other
punishment than a sound whipping.’


There was also a squib about the same master and man:--


    It is well known that Monsieur TALLEYRAND always objected to
    the Invasion of England, as a mad Attempt, that must end in
    the destruction of the Invaders. Having been favoured with a
    Note of a Conversation between him and the Chief Consul on
    this Subject, I have attempted, for the Entertainment of my
    Countrymen, to put it into Rhyme.

            A. S.


  Talleyrand, what’s the state of my great preparation,
  To crush, at one stroke, this vile, insolent nation,
  That baffles my projects, my vengeance derides,
  Blasts all my proud hopes, checks my arrogant strides.
  Boasts a _Press unrestrained_, points its censure at ME,
  And while Frenchmen are Slaves, still presumes to be free?


  In a Month, Sire, or less, your magnanimous host,
  Their standards shall fix on the rude British Coast.


  ’Tis well--let the troops be kept hungry and bare,
  To make them more keen--for that Island’s good fare.
  Give them _drafts upon London_, instead of their pay,
  And rouse them to _ravish_, _burn_, _plunder_, and _slay_.
  Prepare, too,--_some draughts_, for the sick and the lame;
  You know what I mean.


                        _As in Syria?_


                                     _The same!_
  That _England I hate_, and its armies subdued,
  The _slaughter of Jaffa_ shall there be renew’d.
  Not a wretch that presumes to oppose, but shall feel
  The flames of my fury, the force of my steel.
  Their daughters, and wives, to my troops I consign;
  So shall vengeance, sweet vengeance, deep-glutted, be mine,
  Their children--


                  What! massacre them, my dread Lord?


  Why not? with _me_ PITY _was never the word_!
  That island once conquer’d, the world is my own,
  And its ruins shall furnish the base of my throne.


  What a project! how vast!--yet allow me one word;
  Sir, the English are brave, and can wield well the sword.
  In defence of their freedom, their _King_, and their soil,
  Not a man but would dare the most perilous toil.
  Should our troops but appear, they will rush to the field,
  And will die on the spot to a man e’er they yield.
  In defence of their honour, their women will fight,
  And their navy, triumphant, still sails in our sight.


  Hush, hush, say no more lest some listeners should hear,
  And our troops should be taught these fierce Britons to fear.
  They are brave; and my soldiers have felt it--what then?
  Our numbers are more--to their five, we are ten.
  Say their sailors are skilful, oak hearted, and true,
  One army may fail, yet another may do.
  And though thousands should fatten the sharks in the sea,
  There are thousands remaining, _to perish for me_.
  In a night, or a fog, we will silent steal over,
  And surprise unexpected, the Castle of Dover.
  Then to gull the poor dupes of that navy bound land,
  You have lies ready coin’d--_’tis your trade_, at command.
  We will tell them, and swear it, our sole end and aim,
  Is to make them all equally rich--all the same.
  I see by your smile you interpret my meaning,
  _That where my troops reap, they leave nothing for gleaning_.
  They soar at a palace, they swoop to a cot,
  And plunder--not leaving one bone for the pot.
  Now, Sir, to your duty, your business prepare,
  Leave the rest to _my_ Genius, _my_ fortune, _my_ care.

                       [_Exit Buonaparte, Talleyrand looking after him._


  Your fortune, I fear, Sir, will play you a trick:--
  Notwithstanding his vaunts, he is touch’d to the quick.
  What folly! what madness, this project inspires,
  To conquer a nation, whom liberty fires.
  Even now from their shores, loudly echoed, I hear
  The song of defiance appalling mine ear.
  Their spirit once rous’d, what destruction awakes!
  What vengeance, the wretched invaders o’ertakes.
  Prophetic, I plead, but my warning is vain,
  Ambition still urges, and maddens his brain:
  Fired with hopes of rich booty, his soldiers all burn,

J. B. (November 5, 1803) produced ‘Boney in time for Lord Mayors
Feast.’ At this banquet a sailor produces Napoleon chained, and with
a collar round his neck. He thus introduces him: ‘Here he is, please
your Honors. We caught him alive, on the Suffolk Coast. He was a little
queerish at first, but a few Stripes at the Gangway soon brought him
about. I told him he was just in time for the Lord Mayor’s Show. What
does your honor think of him for the Man in Armour?’ The Lord Mayor,
glass in hand, says: ‘Ay, you see how we live at this end of the town,
but you get no Roast beef here, Master Boney--Let him have plenty of
Soup Maigre--and in the evening take him up to the Ball Room for the
amusement of the Ladies--Come, heres the glorious Ninth of November.’

‘Destruction of the French Gun Boats--or Little Boney and his friend
Talley in high Glee’ is presumably by Gillray, though not signed by
him (November 22, 1803). It represents the total destruction of the
French flotilla by the English fleet--which Napoleon, mounted on
Talleyrand’s shoulder, is watching with great glee through a rolled-up
paper (Talleyrand’s plan for invading Great Britain), which is being
used in lieu of a telescope. He shouts out, in great delight, ‘Oh my
dear Talley, what a glorious sight! We’ve worked up Johnny Bull into a
fine passion! My good fortune never leaves me! I shall now get rid of
a Hundred Thousand French Cut Throats whom I was so afraid of! Oh, my
dear Talley, this beats the Egyptian Poisoning hollow! Bravo Johnny!
pepper ’em Johnny!’

Ansell is answerable for ‘Boney’s Journey to London, or the reason why
he is so long in coming, i.e. because he travels like a Snail with
his house at his back’ (November 23, 1803). He is portrayed as being
in a wooden house, drawn by his soldiers, who are being unmercifully
whipped with a knout-like weapon. Napoleon, calling out to the officer
who is administering the punishment, ‘You Vagabones, make haste, Vite,
Vite, or I shall not get to London by Christmass. Give them more of the
Fraternal Whip, the dam Rascals do not know the value of Liberty.’


_Spottiswoode & Co., Printers, New-street Square, London._


[1] Chevalier Artand’s _Italy_, p. 377; ‘L’Univers pittoresque,
Europe,’ tome 2, Paris, 1857, ed. Didot.

[2] ‘Ragguaglio Storico di tutto l’occorso, giorno per giorno, nel
Sacco di Roma dell’anno 1527, scritto da Jacopo Bonoparte, gentiluomo
Samminiatere’ (from San Miniato, near Florence) ‘che vi se trovò

[3] _Notes and Queries_, 3rd series, vol. xi. p. 307.

[4] From Καλὀς, good, and Μερὶς, part or share--Buona-parte.

[5] _Notes and Queries_, 3rd series, vol. xi. p. 507.

[6] _Memoirs of Madame Junot, Duchesse d’Abrantes_, Bentley, London,
1883. When quoting from her memoirs I always use this translation.

[7] Napoleon omitted the ‘u’ in Buonaparte while general-in-chief in
May 1796.

[8] Madam Junot was very proud of her descent from Constantine
Comnenus, the tenth Protogeras of Maina, who quitted Greece in 1675,
landed at Genoa Jan. 1, 1676, and arrived at Corsica March 14, 1676.

[9] _Buonaparte et la famille, ou Confidences d’un de leurs anciens
amis_, Paris 1816.

[10] Denying by every means the authority of nations, obedience to
princes, or liberty to the Church. He usurped the goods of all, the
treasure of neutrals, the souls of nations: in very truth he was an
execrable tyrant.

[11] _The Corsican’s Downfall_, p. 9.

[12] _Buonaparte the Emperor of the French considered as the Lucifer
and Gog of Isiah and Ezekiel, &c._, by L. Mayer, Lond. 1806, p. 86.

[13] _Memoirs_, p. 269.

[14] His nephew was afterwards prefect in Corsica. He was a relation of

[15] Daughter of Charles Bonaparte, the Emperor’s uncle, and wife of
Paraviccini, a cousin, also, of Napoleon.

[16] _Memoirs_, p. 7.

[17] _Buonapartiana, ou Choix d’Anecdotes curieuses_, Paris, 1814.

[18] _The Life of Napoleon, a Hudibrastic Poem in Fifteen Cantos, by
Doctor Syntax_ (William Combe). London, 1815.

[19] _Memoirs_, vol. i. p. 10.

[20] _Memoirs_, vol. i. p. 33.

[21] For instance, see _Notes and Queries_, 3rd series, vol. vii. p.

[22] _Romance of London_, vol. iii. p. 172, ed. 1865.

[23] _Memoirs of Madame Junot_, vol. i. p. 73.

[24] _Memoirs_, vol. i. p. 80.

[25] _Amours et Aventures du Vicomte de Barras_, Paris, 1817.

[26] _Notre Dame de Thermidor_, p. 429.

[27] Madame Tallien and Madame Viconti.

[28] _Madame Junot’s Memoirs_, vol. i. p. 249.

[29] Gillray, evidently, was not particular as to dates, for Napoleon
married Josephine in 1796.

[30] _History of the French Consulate under Napoleon Buonaparte, &c._,
by W. Barre, London, 1804.

[31] R. H. Horne.

[32] G. M. Bussey.

[33] The Lord Mayor of London, Thomas Blackhall.

[34] A bogey, a bugbear.

[35] The Directory.

[36] He was the father of our great caricaturist, George; but there is
little doubt from the internal evidence of the pictures, that George
either wholly produced, or materially helped in the execution of many
caricatures signed with his father’s name.

[37] Fox’s residence.

[38] _The True Briton_, May 11, 1798.

[39] _Histoire de Bonaparte, Premier Consul, Depuis sa Naissance,
jusqu’à la Paix de Lunéville_, Paris, chez Barba, 1801.

[40] The italics are mine.--J. A.

[41] _Memoirs_, vol. i. p. 209

[42] Eleven hundred guineas were collected at once on the first day,
besides which, the _Times_, October 4, says, ‘The Royal Exchange and
London Assurance Companies have subscribed 100 guineas each, and the
East India Company have voted 1,000_l._ towards this benevolent and
patriotic fund.’

[43] From _Bonduca_, by Henry Purcell, A.D. 1710.

[44] There is a long account of this lady in _Amours secrètes de
Napoléon, des Princes et Princesses de sa famille, &c._, by M. de B....
2 vols., Paris, 1844, 12mo.

[45] _Napoleon in Exile, or a Voice from St. Helena, &c._, by Barry E.
O’Meara. 2 vols., London, 1822. Vol. ii. p. 127.

[46] Ibid., vol. i. p. 329.

[47] _History of Buonaparte_, price 6_d._ Printed by Cox, Son, &
Baylis, 75 Great Queen Street.

[48] Vol. i. p. 209.

[49] Of Aboukir.

[50] Which probably gave details of the defeats of the French by
Suwaroff, who is thus described in the _Vienna Gazette_ (according
to his portrait by Gillray, May 23, 1799): ‘This extraordinary man
is now in the prime of life, six feet ten inches in height, never
tastes either wine or spirits, takes but one meal a day, and every
morning plunges into an ice bath; his wardrobe consists of a plain
shirt, a white waistcoat and breeches, short boots, and a Russian
cloak; he wears no covering on his head either by day or night; when
tired, he wraps himself up in a blanket, and sleeps in the open air;
he has fought twenty-nine pitched battles, and been in seventy-five

[51] In the _Times_ of November 15, 1799, we read of this dinner
(November 7) that ‘Buonaparte gave the toast, “To the union of all
Frenchmen.”’ The same paper records that Bonaparte had presented Moreau
with a robe enriched with diamonds, which he brought from Egypt, and
was valued at 10,000 livres. This probably purchased his aid in the
_coup d’état_ of the 18th Brumaire.

[52] A gross exaggeration, for he only had his coat torn by a Deputy
who had sufficient courage to collar him.

[53] This was one of Fuseli’s celebrated ‘Milton Gallery,’ a series of
47 pictures, produced between the years 1790 and 1800.

[54] No. 8, Nov. 7, 1800.

[55] The _Porcupine_, No. 13, Nov. 13.

[56] _Ibid._ No. 28, Dec. 1.

[57] The _Porcupine_, No. 30, Dec. 3, 1800.

[58] The _Porcupine_, No. 60, Jan. 7, 1801.

[59] The _Porcupine_, No. 61, Jan. 8, 1801.

[60] Dec. 31, 1800.

[61] Lauriston.

[62] _Porcupine_, No. 291, Oct. 3, 1800.

[63] _Porcupine_, No. 298.

[64] An allusion to his play of that name.

[65] _Memoirs of the Later Years of the Right Honourable Charles James
Fox_, by John Bernard Trotter, Esq., late private secretary to Mr. Fox,
London, 1811.

[66] Fox.

[67] Trotter.

[68] Her real name, _vide his Marriage Register_, was Elizabeth B. Cane.

[69] January 1, 1803. Artist unknown.

[70] A name bestowed on young Addington.

[71] Garnerin, the aeronaut.

[72] Lord Whitworth.

[73] _St. James’s Chronicle_, May 17/19, 1803.

[74] Whitworth.

[75] Is from Mr. Stanhope’s speech at a meeting of Yorkshire noblemen
and gentlemen, at the Castle, York, July 28, 1803, for the purpose of
addressing the king on the situation of the country.

[76] ‘Death is an eternal sleep,’ _vide_ Robespierre’s Decree.

[77] Another name for old Nick.

[78] November 3.

[79] Fesch.

[80] Placentia.

[81] Who had the chief share in promoting the Concordat with the Pope.

[82] The Treaty of Luneville was signed Feb. 9, 1801.


  ‘A bawbling vessell was he Captain of,
  For shallow draught and bulk unprizable.’--_Twelfth Night_, act 5,
      sc. i.

Trifling, insignificant, contemptible.

[84] Pidcock’s Menagerie was one of the best and largest that used
to exhibit in Bartholomew and other fairs: the animals being hired
from Cross’s famous collection in Exeter ‘Change. At this time (1803)
Pidcock was probably dead, as he exhibited in 1769. The show was
afterwards known as Polito’s.

[85] Hanging them. A revival of the old Revolutionary cry of ‘À la

[86] Indicative of Hanover.

[87] The Marquis of Hartington in a speech in the House of Commons,
March 17, 1884, said ‘there were now 209,365 volunteers enrolled, of
whom 202,478 were efficient.’--_Morning Post_, March 18, 1884.

Transcriber’s Notes

Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a
predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not

Missing or extraneous accent marks in French text have not been changed.

Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced
double and single quotation marks were retained.

Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.

Page 32 refers to eight plates by Woodward about Josephine, but the
book only contained seven.

Page 59: The symbol before “An undoubted likeness” is a hand, pointing
to the right.

Page 62: “Sacrement” was printed that way.

Page 73: “The Gallant Nellson” was printed that way.

Page 123: In the original book, “Egypt” was printed with a strikethrough
and replaced by “Earth”. In the text version of this eBook, this is
represented by “Egypt/Earth”.

Page 162: "the vexation of Little Boney. vide the" was printed that way.
In other sources, "Vide" is capitalized and often followed by a period
and a capital "The".

Page 170: “Projets” was printed that way.

Page 171: “quareling” was printed that way.

Page 201: In the original book, the asterism ⁂ was inverted.

Lyrics on pages 213-214 and 225 were printed with music scores, as
indicated by [Music].

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