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Title: English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon I.  Volume II (of 2)
Author: Ashton, John
Language: English
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    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.








  _All rights reserved_





    D’ENGHIEN--CAPTAIN WRIGHT                                          1




  NAPOLEON’S CORONATION                                               23


    ENGLAND’                                                          35


    DANIEL LAMBERT                                                    45






    JOSEPH                                                            75


  PENINSULAR WAR, _continued_--MEETING AT ERFURT                      87


    JOSEPHINE’S DIVORCE                                               96


    ROME--NAPOLEON IN THE NURSERY                                    110




    CAMPAIGN--THE EMPEROR’S RETURN TO FRANCE                         138


    BLOWN UP                                                         150


  NAPOLEON’S RETURN TO PARIS--HIS RECEPTION                          164


  L’HOMME ROUGE--NAPOLEON’S SUPERSTITION                             172










    ABDICATION                                                       225


    SURRENDER--GOES ON BOARD THE ‘BELLEROPHON’                       233


    ST. HELENA                                                       239





  INDEX                                                              269






The Volunteer movement was well shown in a print by A. M., November
1803: ‘Boney attacking the English Hives, or the Corsican caught
at last in the Island.’ There are many hives, the chief of which
has a royal crown on its top, and is labelled ‘Royal London Hive.
Threadneedle Street Honey’--which Napoleon is attacking, sword in hand.
George the Third, as Bee Master, stands behind the hives, and says,
‘What! what! you plundering little Corsican Villain, have you come to
rob my industrious Bees of their Honey? I won’t trust to your oath.
Sting, Sting the Viper to the heart my good Bees, let Buz, Buz be the
Word in the Island.’ The bees duly obey their master’s request, and
come in clouds over Napoleon, who has to succumb, and pray, kneeling,
‘Curse those Bees they sting like Scorpions. I did not think this
Nation of Shopkeepers could sting so sharp. Pray good Master of the
Bees, do call them off, and I will swear by all the three creeds which
I profess, Mahometan, Infidel, and Christian, that I will never disturb
your Bees again.’

‘Selling the Skin before the Bear is caught, or cutting up the Bull
before he is killed,’ is by I. Cruikshank (December 21, 1803), and
represents a Bull reposing calmly on the English shore, whilst on
the opposite or French coast is Bonaparte, Talleyrand, and several
Generals. Bonaparte, pointing to the Bull, says: ‘I shall take the
Middle part, because it contains the Heart and Vitals--Talley, you may
take the head, because you have been accustomed to take the Bull by the
horns.’ Britannia stands, fully armed, behind the Bull, by an ‘alarm
post,’ on which hangs a bell, ‘British Valor,’ which she is preparing
to ring: ‘When these Mounseers have settled their plan, I will just
rouse the Bull, and then see who will be cut up first.’

‘New Bellman’s Verses for Christmas 1803!’ is an extremely inartistic
work of an unknown man (December 1803); the only thing worth quoting
about it are these verses:--

  This little Boney says he’ll come
    At Merry Christmas time,
  But that I say is all a hum,
    Or I no more will rhyme.

  Some say in wooden house he’ll glide,
    Some say in air Balloon,
  E’en those who airy schemes deride,
    Agree his coming soon.

  Now honest people list to me,
    Though Income is but small,
  I’ll bet my Wig to one Pen--ney,
    He does not come at all.

‘More than expected, or too many for Boney’ (artist unknown, December
1803), shows him as an Ass, on whose back is John Bull, Russia,
Prussia, and Germany. Says Russia, ‘We all depend upon you Mr.
Bull--give him a little more spurring, and we’ll soon make him feel
the Rowels.’ John mildly expostulates with his quadruped: ‘Come--come,
don’t be sulky--if you won’t go in a snaffle, you must be forced to go
in a curb.’

Dean Swift’s immortal book did yeoman’s service to the caricaturists,
and we find it again employed in a print by West, December 1803: ‘The
Brobdingnag Watchman preventing Gulliver’s landing.’ It is very feeble,
and merely consists of George the Third as a watchman turning the light
of the ‘Constitutional Lanthorn’ upon Bonaparte and his companions, who
are attempting a landing.

Another print, by West (December 1803), shows ‘Mr. and Mrs. Bull giving
Buonaparte a Christmas Treat!’ The latter is bound to a post in sight
of, but beyond reach of, the national fare of this festival. John Bull
says, holding up a piece of beef, in derision, ‘Yes, yes--the Beef
is very good, so is the pudding too--but the deuce a morsel do you
get of either, Master Boney.’ Mrs. Bull too, who is drinking from a
frothing tankard, says: ‘Your health Master Boney, wishing you a merry
Christmas,’ but offers him none.

An unknown artist gives an undated picture of ‘a Cock and Bull Story.’
Napoleon, as the Gallic Cock, on his side of the Channel, sings

  Cock a dudle doo, I shall come over to you.
    I’ll fight true game, and crow my Fame,
  And make you all look blue.

John Bull, who is peacefully reposing in his pastures rejoins:--

  You impertinent Cock, I’ll have you to know
  On this side the Brook, you never shall Crow,
  And if you’re not quick, and give up your jaw,
  I’ll teach you the nature of English Club Law.

In 1803 was published an amusing squib, in which the names of various
plays are very ingeniously made into a patriotic address:--


    OF THE


    Should the Modern _Tamerlane_ revive the tragedy of _England
    Invaded_, and, in the progress of his _Wild goose Chace_,
    escape the _Tempest_, he will find that, with us, it is
    _Humours of the Age_ to be _Volunteers_. He will prove that we
    have many a _Plain Dealer_, who will tear off _the Mask_, under
    which _the Hypocrite_, this _Fool of Fortune_, this _Choleric
    man_, has abused a credulous world. Should he, to _a Wonder_,
    attempt a _Trip to Scarborough_, to set them _all alive at
    Portsmouth_, or to get _on both sides of the gutter_, he will
    assuredly meet a _Chapter of Accidents_ on his _Road to Ruin_;
    for _Britannia and the Gods are in Council_, to make him a
    _Castle Spectre_: he will, too late, discover _the Secret_ of
    _Who’s the Dupe_; and that it is _the Custom of the Country_ of
    _John Bull_, to shew _the Devil to pay_ to any _Busybody_, who
    seeks to enforce on us _Reformation_.

    This _Double Dealer_, who has excited dismay _Abroad and at
    Home_, and gained _Notoriety_ by the magnitude of the mischiefs
    he has achieved, still presumes, by _the Wheel of Fortune_,
    like another _Pizarro_, to satiate his _Revenge_, and to learn
    _How to grow Rich_, by renewing the distressing scenes of
    _the Siege of Damascus_; until amongst the desolated ruins of
    our City, he should establish himself like _a London Hermit_.
    That _he Would if he Could_, is past all doubt; but if he will
    take _a Word to the Wise_, from _a Man of the World_, he will
    believe _He’s much to blame_, and _All in the Wrong_; for _the
    Doctor and the Apothecary_ are in _the Committee_; and by good
    _Management_, are forward in _the Rehearsal_ of the lively
    Comedy of _the Way to keep Him_ under _Lock and Key_. They may
    not be able to produce for him _a Cure for the Heartache_, or
    for _the Vapourish Man_, but they will shew him at least _Cheap
    Living_, and prove that he has sown his _Wild Oats_, in a
    _Comedy of Errors_.

    _The Poor Soldier_, whose generous heart expands to render
    _Love for Love_, is like the gallant and gay Lothario, armed
    for either field, and prepared to give _Measure for Measure_;
    and to convert the _Agreeable Surprize_, which the Acre
    _Runaway_ anticipates in _the Camp_, from _the Beaux Stratagem_
    into _a Tale of Mystery_. _Appearances are against him_, as
    well as _the Chances_; but he is a desperate _Gamester_; and
    although his schemes of Conquest will end in _Much ado about
    Nothing_, like a _Midsummer’s night’s Dream_, or _a Winter’s
    Tale_, yet he is _Heir at Law_ to our hate; and _Every one has
    his Fault_, if he does not unite to revive the splendid scenes
    of _Edward the Black Prince_, and _Henry the Fifth_, when
    France trembled beneath our arms at Cressy and Agincourt; and
    give to this unprincipled _Bajazet_ an exit corresponding with
    his crimes.


  Bonaparte the Bully resolved to come over,
  With flat-bottomed Wherries, from Calais to Dover;
  No perils to him in the billows are found,
  ‘_For if born to be hang’d, he can never be drown’d_.’

  From a Corsican dunghill this fungus did spring,
  He was soon made a Captain and would be a King;
  But the higher he rises the more he does evil,
  ‘_For a Beggar, on horseback, will ride to the Devil_.’

  To seize all that we have and then clap us in jail,
  To devour our victuals, and drink all our ale,
  And to grind us to dust is the Corsican’s will--
  ‘_For we know all is grist that e’er comes to his mill_.’

  To stay quiet, at home, the First Consul can’t bear
  Or, mayhap, ‘_he would have other fish to fry there_’;
  So, as fish of that sort does not suit his desire,
  ‘_He leaps out of the frying pan, into the fire_.’

  He builds barges and cock boats, and craft without end
  And numbers the boats which to England he’ll send;
  But in spite of his craft, and his barges and boats
  ‘_He still reckons, I think, without one of his hosts_.’

  He rides upon France and he tramples on Spain,
  And holds Holland and Italy tight in a Chain;
  These he hazards for more, though I can’t understand,
  ‘_How one bird in the bush is worth two in the hand_.’

  He trusts that his luck will all danger expel,
  ‘_But the pitcher is broke that goes oft to the well_’;
  And when our brave soldiers this Bully surround,
  ‘_Though he’s thought_ Penny Wise, _he’ll be foolish in_ Pound.’

  France can never forget that our fathers of yore,
  Used to pepper and baste her at sea and at shore;
  And we’ll speedily prove to this mock-Alexander,
  ‘_What was sauce for the goose, will be sauce for the Gander_.’

  I have heard and have read in a great many books,
  Half the Frenchmen are Tailors, and t’other half Cooks;--
  We’ve fine Trimmings in store for the Knights of the Cloth,
  ‘_And the Cooks that come here, will but spoil their own broth_.’

  It is said that the French are a numerous race,
  And perhaps it is true--for ‘_ill weeds grow apace_’;
  But come when they will, and as many as dare,
  ‘_I expect they’ll arive a day after the fair_.’

  To invade us more safely these warriors boast
  They will wait till a storm drives our fleet from the Coast,
  That ’twill be an ‘_ill wind_,’ will be soon understood,
  For a wind _that blows_ Frenchmen, ‘_blows nobody good_.’

  They would treat Britain worse than they’ve treated Mynheer,
  But they’ll find ‘_they have got the wrong sow by the ear_.’
  Let them come then in swarms, by this Corsican lead,
  And I warrant ‘_we’ll hit the right nail on the head_.’

The year 1804 was a most eventful one for Napoleon. With all his hatred
of England, and his wish for her invasion, he was powerless in that
matter, and had plenty to employ him at home. The English had got
used to their bugbear the flotilla, and the caricaturist had a rest.
Napoleon had his hands full. First and foremost was that conspiracy
against his life and government, in which Georges Cadoudal, Moreau, and
Pichegru figure so prominently, and which entailed the execution of the
Duc d’Enghien.

  The Bourbon house he so detested,
  He had the Duke d’Enghien arrested;
  A sort of trial then took place,
  And sentence passed--the usual case.
  ’Tis said that Boney chose a spot,
  To see the gallant fellow shot.

Whatever may have been Napoleon’s conduct in this affair, these two
last lines are undoubtedly false. The duke had been residing at
Ettenheim, in the duchy of Baden, and was thought to be there in
readiness to head the Royalists in case of need, that his hunting
was but a pretext to cover flying visits to Paris, and that he was
the person whom Georges Cadoudal and his fellow conspirators always
received bareheaded. He was seized, brought to Paris, and lodged in the
Château de Vincennes. A few hours’ rest, and he was roused at midnight
to go before his judges. It was in vain he pleaded the innocence of his
occupations, and begged to have an interview with the First Consul; yet
he declared he had borne arms against France, and his wish to serve in
the war on the English side against France; and owned that he received
a pension of one hundred and fifty guineas a month from England. He
was found guilty and condemned to death, and two hours afterwards
was led out into the ditch of the fortress, and there shot, a priest
being refused him. O’Meara, describing a conversation with Napoleon on
this subject, says: ‘I now asked if it were true that Talleyrand had
retained a letter written by the Duc d’Enghien to him until two days
after the duke’s execution? Napoleon’s reply was, “It is true; the
duke had written a letter offering his services, and asking a command
in the Army from me, which that _scelerato_, Talleyrand, did not make
known until two days after his execution.” I observed that Talleyrand,
by his culpable concealment of the letter, was virtually guilty of the
death of the duke. “Talleyrand,” replied Napoleon, “is a _briccone_,
capable of any crime. I,” continued he, “caused the Duc d’Enghien to
be arrested in consequence of the Bourbons having landed assassins in
France to murder me. I was resolved to let them see that the blood
of one of their princes should pay for their attempts, and he was
accordingly tried for having borne arms against the republic, found
guilty, and shot, according to the existing laws against such a crime.”’

Ansell (June 2, 1804) gives us ‘The Cold Blooded Murderer, or the
Assassination of the Duc d’Enghien,’ in which the duke is represented
as being bound to a tree, a soldier on either side holding a torch,
whilst Napoleon is running his sword into his heart. D’Enghien bravely
cries out, ‘Assassin! your Banditti need not cover my Eyes, I fear
not Death, tho’ perhaps a guiltless countenance may appall your
bloodthirsty soul.’ Napoleon, whilst stabbing his victim, says: ‘Now
de whole World shall know de courage of de first grand Consul, dat I
can kill my enemies in de Dark, as well as de light, by Night as well
as by Day,--dare--and dare I had him--hark, vat noise was dat? ah!
’tis only de Wind--dare again, and dare--Now I shall certainly be made
Emperor of de Gulls.’[1] Devils are rejoicing over the deed, and are
bearing a crown. They say: ‘This glorious deed does well deserve a
Crown, thus let us feed his wild ambition, untill some bold avenging
hand shall make him all our own.’

A Captain Wright figures in this plot; and, as he was an Englishman,
and his name is frequent both in the caricature and satire of the day,
some notice of him must be given. He was a lieutenant in the Royal
Navy, and somehow got mixed up with this conspiracy. He took Georges
Cadoudal and others on board either at Deal or Hastings, and crossed
over to Beville, where there was a smuggler’s rope let down from an
otherwise inaccessible cliff. By means of this they were drawn up, and
went secretly to Paris. The plot failed, and they were thrown into
prison, Wright being afterwards captured at sea. Cadoudal went to the
scaffold, Pichegru was found strangled in his cell; and Wright, the
English said, after being tortured in prison, to compel him to give
evidence against his companions, was assassinated by order of Napoleon.

The latter, however, always indignantly denied it, saying that Captain
Wright committed suicide. In O’Meara’s book he denies it several times,
and an extract or two will be worth noting. ‘In different nights of
August, September, and December 1803 and January 1804, Wright landed
Georges, Pichegru, Rivière, Costa, St. Victor, La Haye, St. Hilaire,
and others at Beville. The four last named had been accomplices in the
former attempt to assassinate me by means of the infernal machine, and
most of the rest were well known to be chiefs of the Chouans,’ &c.
‘There was something glorious in Wright’s death. He preferred taking
away his own life, to compromising his government.’ ‘Napoleon in very
good spirits. Asked many questions about the horses that had won at
the races, and the manner in which we trained them; how much I had won
or lost; and about the ladies, &c. “You had a large party yesterday,”
continued he. “How many bottles of wine? Drink, your eyes look like
drink,” which he expressed in English. “Who dined with you?” I
mentioned Captain Wallis amongst others. “What! is that the lieutenant
who was with Wright?” I replied in the affirmative. “What does he say
about Wright’s death?” I said, “He states his belief that Wright was
murdered by orders of Fouché, for the purpose of ingratiating himself
with you. That six or seven weeks previous, Wright had told him that
he expected to be murdered like Pichegru, and begged of him never to
believe that he would commit suicide; that he had received a letter
from Wright, about four or five weeks before his death, in which he
stated that he was better treated, allowed to subscribe to a library,
and to receive newspapers.” Napoleon replied, “I will never allow that
Wright was put to death by Fouché’s orders. If he was put to death
privately, it must have been by my orders, and not by those of Fouché.
Fouché knew me too well. He was aware that I would have had him hanged
directly, if he attempted it. By this officer’s own words, Wright was
not _au secret_, as he says he saw him some weeks before his death,
and that he was allowed books and newspapers. Now, if it had been in
contemplation to make away with him, he would have been put _au secret_
for months before, in order that people might not be accustomed to see
him for some time previous, as I thought this * * * intended to do in
November last. Why not examine the gaolers and turnkeys? The Bourbons
have every opportunity of proving it, if such really took place. But
your ministers themselves do not believe it. The idea I have of what
was my opinion at that time about Wright, is faint; but, as well as
I can recollect, it was that he ought to have been brought before a
military commission, for having landed spies and assassins, and the
sentence executed within forty-eight hours. What dissuaded me from
doing so, I cannot clearly recollect. Were I in France at this moment,
and a similar occurrence took place, the above would be my opinion, and
I would write to the English Government: ‘Such an officer of yours has
been tried for landing brigands and assassins on my territories. I have
caused him to be tried by a military commission. He has been condemned
to death. The sentence has been carried into execution. If any of my
officers in your prisons have been guilty of the same, try, and execute
them. You have my full permission and acquiescence. Or, if you find,
hereafter, any of my officers landing assassins on your shores, shoot
them instantly.’”’



The most important event of the year to Napoleon himself, was his
being made Emperor. Although First Consul for life, with power to
appoint his successor, it did not satisfy his ambition. He would fain
be Emperor, and that strong will, which brooked no thwarting, took
measures to promote that result. In the Senate M. Curée moved, ‘that
the First Consul be invested with the hereditary power, under the title
of Emperor,’ and this motion was but feebly fought against by a few
members, so that at last an address was drawn up, beseeching Napoleon
to yield to the wishes of the nation. A _plébiscite_ was taken on the
subject, with the result that over three millions and a half people
voted for it, and only about two thousand against it. On May 18,
Cambacérès, at the head of the Senate, waited upon Napoleon, at St.
Cloud, with an address detailing the feelings and wishes of the nation.
It is needless to say that Napoleon ‘accepted the Empire, in order that
he might labour for the happiness of the French.’

  The brave First Consul now began
  To set on foot his fav’rite plan;
  The Senate, when the door was clos’d,
  As Emperor of France, propos’d
  Brave Boney, and his heirs, and then
  They call’d him worthiest of men;
  So much accustom’d down to cram a lie,
  They prais’d, too, his _illustrious_ family.
  What _sweet_ addresses, what _kind_ answers,
  A proof mankind, too, oft in France errs;
  All these were equally prepared
  In Boney’s closet, ’tis declared.
  Addresses from the army came,
  Which were in tendency the same.
  Nap manag’d matters with facility,
  Such was the people’s instability.
  A deputation waited on him,
  And by _solicitation_ won him;
  In a fine sentimental speech,
  Began they Boney to beseech,
  That he would graciously agree
  The Emperor of France to be;
  Elected by the general voice,
  They said he was the people’s Choice,
  And begg’d the title to confer
  On one who was not _prone to err_.
  Nap much humility pretended,
  But to accept it _condescended_.
  The business settled thus, _nem. con._
  He put th’ imperial purple on,
  More gay appear’d his lovely wife,
  Than e’er she did in all her life;
  It was enough to make her grin,
  As she was Empress Josephine.
  Nap now sent letters by the dozens,
  To the French Bishops, his new _cousins_,
  Informing them that Heav’n, indeed,
  His elevation had decreed;
  And, trusting for the same, that they
  Wou’d order a thanksgiving day.
  As Nap--’twas wise we must allow--
  A Roman Catholic was now;
  A prayer had been, to this intent,
  By the Pope’s legate to them sent.
  Moreover, all the Christian Nations,
  Received the same notifications.
  Soon made they every preparation
  For a most brilliant Coronation.

The flotilla, on the other side of the Channel, was still looked upon
with uneasiness, and watched with jealous care. Still, we find that
it was only at the commencement of the year that it was caricatured,
Napoleon’s being made Emperor proving a more favourite subject; and,
besides, a feeling sprung up that there was not much mischief in it.

One of the most singular caricatures, in connection with the projected
invasion, that I have met with is by Ansell, January 6, 1804. ‘The
Coffin Expedition, or Boney’s Invincible Armada Half seas over.’ The
flotilla is here represented as gunboats, in the shape of coffins: all
the crews, naval and military, wearing shrouds; whilst at the masthead
of each vessel is a skull with _bonnet rouge_. It is needless to say
they are represented as all foundering, one man exclaiming, ‘Oh de
Corsican Bougre was make dese Gun boats on purpose for our Funeral.’
Some British vessels are in the mid distance, and two tars converse
thus: ‘I say Messmate, if we dont bear up quickly, there will be
nothing left for us to do.’ ‘Right, Tom, and I take them there things
at the Masthead to be Boney’s Crest, a skull without brains.’

‘Dutch Embarkation; or Needs must when the Devil drives!!’ (artist
unknown, January 1804) represents Bonaparte, with drawn sword,
driving fat, solid Dutchmen each into a gun-boat about as big as a
walnut-shell. One remonstrates: ‘D--n such Liberty, and D--n such a
Flotilla!! I tell you we might as well embark in Walnut Shells.’ But
Bonaparte replies: ‘Come, come, Sir, no grumbling, I insist on your
embarking and destroying the modern Carthage--don’t you consider the
liberty you enjoy--and the grand flotilla that is to carry you over!’

As good a one as any of Gillray’s caricatures is the King of
Brobdingnag and Gulliver, February 10, 1804--scene, ‘Gulliver
manœuvring with his little boat in the cistern.’ The king and queen
(excellent likenesses) and two princesses are looking on at Bonaparte
sailing, whilst the young princes are blowing, to make a wind for him.
Lord Salisbury stands behind the royal chair, and beefeaters and ladies
of the court complete the scene. This, however, is specially described
as ‘designed by an amateur, etched by Gillray.’


‘A French Alarmist, or John Bull looking out for the Grand Flotilla!!’
(West, March 1804.) He is on the coast, accompanied by his bull-dog,
and armed with a sword, looking through a telescope. Behind him is
a Frenchman, who is saying, ‘Ah! Ah! Monsieur Bull,--dere you see
our Grande flotilla--de grande gon boats--ma foi--dere you see em
sailing for de grand attack on your nation--dere you see de Bombs and
de Cannons--Dere you see de Grande Consul himself at de head of his
Legions. Dere you see----’ But John Bull replies, ‘Mounseer, all this I
cannot see--because ’tis not in sight.’

We now come to the caricatures relating to the Empire.

A print, attributed to Rowlandson (May 1804?), shows ‘A Great Man
on his Hobby Horse, a design for an Intended Statue on the Place la
Liberté at Paris.’ Napoleon is riding _the high horse_ ‘Power,’ which
prances on a Globe.

‘A new French Phantasmagoria’ is by an unknown artist (May 1804). John
Bull cannot realise the fact of Napoleon being Emperor, but stares
at him through an enormous pair of spectacles. ‘Bless me, what comes
here--its time to put on my large spectacles, and tuck up my trowsers.
Why, surely, it can’t be--it is Bonny too, for all that. Why what game
be’st thee at now? acting a play mayhap. What hast thee got on thy
head there? always at some new freak or other.’ Bonaparte, in imperial
robes, and with crown and sceptre, holds out his hand, and says: ‘What!
my old Friend, Mr. Bull, don’t you know me?’

Ansell gives us (May 28, 1804) ‘The Frog and the Ox, or The Emperor of
the _Gulls_ in his stolen gear.’ Napoleon, very small, is depicted as
capering about in imperial robes, with an enormous crown made of coins,
daggers, and a cup of poison; his sceptre has for its top a guillotine.
George the Third is regarding him through his glass. Napoleon says,
‘There Brother! there! I shall soon be as Big as you, it’s a real
Crown, but it’s cursed heavy, my Head begins to ache already. I say
Can’t we have a grand meeting like Henry the 8th and Francis the 1st?’
King George cannot quite make out the mannikin. ‘What have we got
here, eh? A fellow that has stolen some Dollars, and made a Crown of
them, eh? and then wants to pass them off for Sterling; it won’t go, it
won’t pass Fellow.’ Beside the King is a bull, and behind Napoleon is
a frog, who is trying to swell to the bull’s proportions, whilst John
Bull laughingly remarks, ‘Dang it, why a looks as tho a’d burst: a’l
nerr be zo big as one of our Oxen tho.’

‘Injecting blood Royal, or Phlebotomy at St. Cloud,’ shews Napoleon,
in his new phase of power, having the blood of a Royal Tiger infused
into his veins. He says, ‘It’s a delightful operation! I feel the
Citizenship oozing out at my fingers’ ends.--let all the family
be plentifully supplied! Carry up a Bucket full to the Empress

In June 1804 I. Cruikshank drew a picture called ‘the Right Owner.’
Louis the Eighteenth appears to Napoleon, and, pointing to his crown,
says, ‘That’s Mine.’ Napoleon, who is seated on his throne, armed with
sword, pistols, and dagger, shrinks back in violent alarm, exclaiming,
‘Angels and Ministers of Grace defend me.’

‘A Proposal from the New Emperor’ is a caricature by Ansell (July 9,
1804). He comes, cap, or rather crown, in hand, to John Bull, saying,
‘My Dear Cousin Bull--I have a request to make you--the good people
whom I govern, have been so lavish of their favors towards me--that
they have exhausted every title in the Empire--therefore, in addition,
I wish you to make me a Knight of Malta.’ John Bull replies, ‘I’ll see
you d--d first!! You know I told you so before.’

‘The Imperial Coronation’ is a very inartistic sketch by an unknown
artist (July 31, 1804). Napoleon is being crowned by the Pope, who
says, ‘In a little time you shall see him, and in a little time you
shall not see him,’ and then lets down the crown, with cruel force, by
a rope and pulley from the gibbet from which it has been suspended.
Its weight crushes him through the platform on which he has been
sitting, and he exclaims, ‘My dear Talleyrand, save me; My throne is
giving way. I am afraid the foundation is rotten, and wants a deal of
mending.’ Talleyrand sympathisingly answers, ‘Oh, Master, Master, the
Crown is too heavy for you.’

I. Cruikshank drew ‘Harlequin’s last Skip’ (August 23, 1804). Bonaparte
is represented in a harlequin’s suit, enormous cocked hat, boots, and
a blackened face. His sword is broken, and, with upraised hands, in a
supplicating attitude, he exclaims, ‘O Sacre Dieu! John Bull is de very
Devil.’ John Bull, with upraised cudgel, says: ‘Mr. Boney Party, you
have changed Characters pretty often and famously well, and skipped
about at a precious rate. But this Invasion hop is your last--we have
got you snug--the devil a trap to get through here--Your conjuration
sword has lost its Power; you have lied till you are black in the face,
and there is no believing a word you say--so now you shall carry John
Bull’s mark about with you, as every swaggerer should.’

‘British men of war towing in the Invader’s Fleet,’ artist unknown
(September 25, 1804), shows a number of English sailors seated on the
necks of French and Dutch men, whom they are guiding over the sea to
England. One sailor, evidently a Scotchman, is pulling his opponent’s
ears; the poor Frenchman cries out, ‘Oh Morbleu! de salt water make
me sick; O mine pauvre Ears!’ but his ruthless conqueror has no pity,
‘Deil tak your soul, ye lubberly Loon, gin ye dinna mak aw sail,
I’ll twist off your lugs.’ An English sailor rides the redoubtable
Boney, and pulls his nose: ‘Steady Master Emperor, if you regard
your Imperial Nose. Remember a British Tar has you in tow--No more
of this wonderful, this great and mighty nation who frighten all the
world with their buggabo invasion.’ But Boney pleads, ‘Oh! mercy, take
me back, me will make you all Emperors; it will be Boney here, Boney
there, and Boney everywhere, and me wish to my heart me was dead.’
An Irish sailor on a Dutchman yells out, ‘By Jasus, my Jewel, these
bum boats are quizzical toys and sure--heave ahead, you bog trotting
spalpeen, or I shall be after keel hauling you. Huzza, Huzza, Huzza, my
boys, Huzza! ’Tis Britannia boys, Britannia rules the waves.’ Another
Dutchman complains, ‘O Mynheer Jan English you vill break my back.’ But
the relentless sailor who bestrides him takes out his tobacco-box, and
says, ‘Now for a quid of comfort! pretty gig for Jack Tars. Good bye to
your bombast, we’re going to Dover, Was ever poor Boney, so fairly done

A most remarkable caricature by Ansell (October 25, 1804) shows to what
length party spirit will lead men--making truth entirely subservient to
party purposes. It probably paid to vilify Napoleon, and consequently
this picture was produced. It is called ‘Boney’s Inquisition. Another
Specimen of his Humanity on the person of Madame Toussaint.’ Whatever
may be our opinion of his treatment of Toussaint l’Ouverture, the
only record we have in history (and I have expended much time and
trouble in trying to find out the truth of the matter) is that his
family, who were brought to France at the same time as himself, took up
their residence at Agen, where his wife died in 1816. His eldest son,
Isaac, died at Bordeaux in 1850. Now to describe the picture. Madame
l’Ouverture is depicted as being bound to a stretcher nearly naked,
whilst three Frenchmen are tearing her breasts with red-hot pincers.
Another is pulling out her finger-nails with a similar instrument. She
exclaims: ‘Oh Justice! Oh Humanity, Oh Deceitfull Villain, in vain you
try to blot the Character of the English: ’tis their magnanimity which
harrasses your dastard soul.’ One of the torturers says: ‘Eh! Diable!
Why you no confess noting?’ Napoleon is seated on his throne, watching
the scene with evident delight, chuckling to himself, ‘This is Luxury.
Jaffa, Acre, Toulon and D’Enghien was nothing to it. Slave, those
pincers are not half hot, save those nails for my Cabinet, and if she
dies, we can make a confession for her.’


‘The Genius of France nursing her darling’ is by a new hand, T. B.
d----lle (November 26, 1804). ‘France, whilst dandling her darling,
and amusing him with a rattle, sings--

  There’s a little King Pippin
    He shall have a Rattle and Crown;
  Bless thy five Wits,[2] my Baby,
    Mind it don’t throw itself down!
                Hey my Kitten, my Kitten, &c.

An unknown artist (December 11, 1804) gives us ‘The death of Madame
Republique.’ Madame lies a corpse on her bed. Sieyès, as nurse, dandles
the new emperor. John Bull, spectacles on nose, inquires, ‘Pray Mr.
Abbé Sayes--what was the cause of the poor lady’s Death? She seem’d at
one time in a tolerable thriving way.’ Sieyès replies, ‘She died in
Child bed, Mr. Bull, after giving birth to this little Emperor.’

‘The Loyalist’s Alphabet, an Original Effusion,’ by James Bisset
(September 3, 1804), consists of twenty-four small engravings, each in
a lozenge.

  ‘A, stands for Albion’s Isle,’--Britannia seated.

  ‘B, for brave Britons renown’d.’--A soldier and sailor shaking

  ‘C, for a Corsican tyrant,’--Napoleon, with a skull, the
      guillotine, &c., in the background.

  ‘D, his dread downfall must sound.’--Being hurled from his throne
      by lightning.

  ‘E, for embattl’d we stand,’--A troop of soldiers.

  ‘F, ’gainst the French our proud Foes,’--shews England guarded by
      her ships,’ and the flotilla coming over.

  ‘G, for our glorious Gunners,’--Three artillerymen, and a cannon.

  ‘H, for Heroical blows,’--shews a ship being blown up.

  ‘I, for Invasion once stood,’--Some soldiers carousing. The
      English flag above the tricolour.

  ‘J, proves ’twas all a mere Joke.’--A soldier laughing heartily,
      and holding his sides.

  ‘K, for a favorite King, to deal against Knaves a great
      stroke.--Medallion of George the Third.

  ‘L, stands for Liberties’ laws,’--A cap of liberty, mitre,
      pastoral staff, crown, and open book.

  ‘M, Magna Charta’s strong chain.’--A soldier, sailor, Highlander,
      and civilian, joining hands.

  ‘N, Noble Nelson, whom Neptune, near Nile crown’d the Lord of the
      Main,’--is a portrait of the Hero.

  ‘O, stands for Britain’s fam’d Oak,’--which is duly portrayed.

  ‘P, for each brave British Prince.’--The three feathers show the
      Prince of Wales, in volunteer uniform.

  ‘Q, never once made a Question, Respecting the Deeds they’d
      evince,’--is an officer drawing his sword.

  ‘If R, for our Rights takes the field,’--is a yeomanry volunteer.

  ‘Or S, should a signal display,’--The British Standard.

  ‘They’d each call with T for the Trumpet. To Horse my brave boys
      and away.’--A mounted Trumpeter.

  ‘U, for United, we stand, V for our bold Volunteers,’--represents
      one of the latter.

  ‘Whom W welcomes in War, and joins loyal X in three Cheers.’--A
    soldier and sailor, with hands clasped, cheering.

  ‘With Y all our Youths sally forth, the standards of Freedom
    advance,’--is a cannon between two standards.

  ‘With Z proving Englishmen’s Zeal, to humble the Zany of
    France,’--shews Napoleon with a fool’s cap on, chained to the
    wall in a cell.



Napoleon’s coronation was the great event of the year; but some time
before it was consummated the English caricaturist took advantage of
it, and J. B. (West), in September 1804, produced a ‘Design for an
Imperial Crown to be used at the Coronation of the New Emperor.’ A
perusal of the foregoing pages will render any explanation unnecessary.

[Illustration: Cushion of Usurpation]

Napoleon omitted no ceremony which could enhance the pageant of his
coronation. The Pope must be present: no meaner ecclesiastic should
hallow this rite, and he was gently _invited_ to come to Paris for
this purpose. Poor Pius VII. had very little option in the matter.
His master wanted him, and he must needs go; but Napoleon gilded the
chain which drew him. During the whole of his journey he was received
with the greatest reverence, and could hardly have failed to have been
impressed with the great care and attention paid to him. For instance,
the dangerous places in the passage of the Alps were protected by
parapets, so that his Holiness should incur no danger. On his arrival
at Paris he was lodged in the Tuileries, and a very delicate attention
was paid him--his bedchamber was fitted as a counterpart of his own in
the palace of Monte-Cavallo, at Rome.

The eventful 2nd of December came at last; but, before we note
the ceremony itself, we must pause awhile to see how the English
caricaturist treated the procession.

Hardly any one of Gillray’s caricatures (January 1, 1805) is as
effective as ‘The Grand Coronation Procession of Napoleone the 1st,
Emperor of France, from the Church of Notre Dame, Dec. 2nd, 1804.
Redeunt SATANIA regna, Iam nova progenies cœlo demittitur alto!’ Huge
bodies of troops form the background, whose different banners are--a
comet setting the world ablaze; an Imperial crown and the letters SPQN;
un Dieu, un Napoleon; a serpent biting its tail, surrounding a crowned
N. and a Sun, ‘Napoleone y^e 1st le Soleil de la Constitution.’

The procession is headed by ‘His Imperial Highness Prince Louis
Buonaparte Marbœuf’ (a delicate hint as to his paternity), ‘High
Constable of the Empire,’ who, theatrically dressed, struts, carrying
a drum-major’s staff fashioned like a sceptre. Behind him come ‘The
Three Imperial Graces, viz. their Imp. High. Princess Borghese,
Princess Louis (cher amie of y^e Emperor) & Princess Joseph Bonaparte.’
These ladies are clad in a most diaphanous costume, which leaves little
of their forms to the imagination, and they occupy themselves by
scattering flowers as they pass along.

[Illustration: THE THREE GRACES.]


After them comes ‘Madame Talleyrand (ci-devant Mrs. Halhead the
Prophetess),’ a stout, Jewish-looking woman, who is ‘Conducting the
Heir Apparent in y^e Path of Glory’--and a most precocious little imp
it looks. After them hobbles ‘Talleyrand Perigord, Prime Minister and
King at Arms, bearing the Emperor’s Genealogy,’ which begins with
‘Buone Butcher,’ goes on with ‘Bonny Cuckold,’ till it reaches the
apex of ‘Boney Emperor.’ Pope Pius VII. follows, and under his cope is
the devil disguised as an acolyte, bearing a candle; Cardinal Fesch is
by, and acts as thurifer. The incense is in clouds: ‘Les Addresses
des Municipalités de Paris--Les Adorations des Badauds--Les Hommages
des Canailles--Les Admirations des Fous--Les Congratulations des
Grenouilles--Les Humilités des Poltrons.’


Then comes the central figures of the pageant, ‘His Imperial Majesty
Napoleone y^e 1^{st} and the Empress Josephine,’ the former scowling
ferociously, the latter looking blowsy, and fearfully stout. Three
harridans, ‘ci-devant Poissardes,’ support her train, whilst that
of Napoleon is borne by a Spanish don, an Austrian hussar, and a
Dutchman, whose tattered breeches testify to his poverty. These are
styled ‘Puissant Continental Powers--Train Bearers to the Emperor.’
Following them come ‘Berthier, Bernadotte, Angerou, and all the brave
Train of Republican Generals;’ but they are handcuffed, and their faces
display, unmistakably, the scorn in which they hold their old comrade.
Behind them poses a short corpulent figure, ‘Senator Fouché, Intendant
General of y^e Police, bearing the Sword of Justice.’ But Fouché is
not content with this weapon. His other hand grasps an assassin’s
dagger, and both it, and the sword, are well imbrued in blood. The rear
of the procession is made up of a ‘Garde d’Honneur,’ which consists
of a gaoler with the keys of the _Temple_ and a set of fetters; a
_mouchard_ with his report, ‘Espionnage de Paris;’ _Monsieur de Paris_,
the executioner, bears a coil of rope with a noose, and a banner with
a representation of the guillotine--and a prisoner, holding aloft two
bottles respectively labelled Arsenic and Opium. More banners and more
soldiers fill up the background.

What a sight that must have been on the morning of the 2nd of December!
Visitors from all parts of France were there; and the cathedral of
Notre-Dame must have presented a gorgeous _coup d’œil_, with its
splendid ecclesiastical vestments, its magnificent uniforms, and the
beautiful dresses and jewels of the ladies. It can hardly be imagined,
so had better be described in the words of an eyewitness, Madame

‘Who that saw Notre-Dame on that memorable day, can ever forget it? I
have witnessed in that venerable pile the celebration of sumptuous and
solemn festivals; but never did I see anything at all approximating in
splendour to the _coup d’œil_ exhibited at Napoleon’s Coronation. The
vaulted roof re-echoed the sacred chanting of the priests, who invoked
the blessing of the Almighty on the ceremony about to be celebrated,
while they awaited the arrival of the Vicar of Christ, whose throne
was prepared near the altar. Along the ancient walls of tapestry were
ranged, according to their rank, the different bodies of the State, the
deputies from every City; in short, the representatives of all France
assembled to implore the benediction of Heaven on the sovereign of
the people’s choice. The waving plumes which adorned the hats of the
Senators, Counsellors of State, and Tribunes; the splendid uniforms
of the military; the clergy in all their ecclesiastical pomp; and the
multitude of young and beautiful women, glittering in jewels, and
arrayed in that style of grace and elegance which is only seen in
Paris;--altogether presented a picture which has, perhaps, rarely been
equalled, and certainly never excelled.

‘The Pope arrived first; and at the moment of his entering the
Cathedral, the anthem _Tu es Petrus_ was commenced. His Holiness
advanced from the door with an air at once majestic and humble. Ere
long, the firing of cannon announced the departure of the procession
from the Tuileries. From an early hour in the morning the weather had
been exceedingly unfavourable. It was cold and rainy, and appearances
seemed to indicate that the procession would be anything but agreeable
to those who joined it. But, as if by the especial favour of
Providence, of which so many instances are observable in the career
of Napoleon, the clouds suddenly dispersed, the sky brightened up,
and the multitudes who lined the streets from the Tuileries to the
Cathedral, enjoyed the sight of the procession, without being, as they
had anticipated, drenched by a December rain. Napoleon, as he passed
along, was greeted by heartfelt expressions of enthusiastic love and

‘On his arrival at Notre-Dame, Napoleon ascended the throne, which
was erected in front of the grand altar. Josephine took her place
beside him, surrounded by the assembled sovereigns of Europe. Napoleon
appeared singularly calm. I watched him narrowly, with the view of
discovering whether his heart beat more highly beneath the imperial
trappings, than under the uniform of the guards; but I could observe
no difference, and yet I was at the distance of only ten paces from
him. The length of the ceremony, however, seemed to weary him; and I
saw him several times check a yawn. Nevertheless, he did everything he
was required to do, and did it with propriety. When the Pope anointed
him with the triple unction on his head and both hands, I fancied,
from the direction of his eyes, that he was thinking of wiping off the
oil rather than of anything else; and I was so perfectly acquainted
with the workings of his countenance, that I have no hesitation in
saying that was really the thought that crossed his mind at that
moment. During the ceremony of anointing, the Holy Father delivered
that impressive prayer which concluded with these words:--“Diffuse,
O Lord, by my hands, the treasures of your grace and benediction on
your servant, Napoleon, whom, in spite of our personal unworthiness,
_we this day anoint Emperor, in your name_.” Napoleon listened to
this prayer with an air of pious devotion; but just as the Pope was
about to take the crown, called the _Crown of Charlemagne_, from the
altar, Napoleon seized it, and placed it on his own head. At that
moment he was really handsome, and his countenance was lighted up with
an expression, of which no words can convey an idea. He had removed
the wreath of laurel which he wore on entering the church, and which
encircles his brow in the fine picture of Gérard. The crown was,
perhaps, in itself, less becoming to him; but the expression excited by
the act of putting it on, rendered him perfectly handsome.

‘When the moment arrived for Josephine to take an active part in the
grand drama, she descended from the throne and advanced towards the
altar, where the Emperor awaited her, followed by her retinue of Court
ladies, and having her train borne by the Princesses Caroline, Julie,
Eliza, and Louis. One of the chief beauties of the Empress Josephine
was not merely her fine figure, but the elegant turn of her neck,
and the way in which she carried her head; indeed, her deportment,
altogether, was conspicuous for dignity and grace. I have had the
honour of being presented to many _real princesses_, to use the phrase
of the Faubourg St.-Germain, but I never saw one who, to my eyes,
presented so perfect a personification of elegance and majesty. In
Napoleon’s countenance, I could read the conviction of all I have
just said. He looked with an air of complacency at the Empress as
she advanced towards him; and when she knelt down--when the tears,
which she could not repress, fell upon her clasped hands, as they
were raised to Heaven, or rather to Napoleon--both then appeared to
enjoy one of those fleeting moments of pure felicity, which are unique
in a lifetime, and serve to fill up a lustrum of years. The Emperor
performed, with peculiar grace, every action required of him during the
ceremony; but his manner of crowning Josephine was most remarkable:
after receiving the small crown, surmounted by the Cross, he had first
to place it on his own head, and then to transfer it to that of the
Empress. When the moment arrived for placing the crown on the head of
the woman, whom popular superstition regarded as his good genius, his
manner was almost playful. He took great pains to arrange this little
crown, which was placed over Josephine’s tiara of diamonds; he put it
on, then took it off, and finally put it on again, as if to promise her
she should wear it gracefully and lightly.’

It is almost painful, after reading this vivid and soul-stirring
description, to have to descend to the level of the caricaturist
descanting on the same subject; it is a kind of moral douche bath,
giving all one’s nerves a shock.



  Soon made they every preparation
  For a most brilliant coronation:
  ’Twas on, as must each bard remember,
  The nineteenth day of _dark_ November[4]
  When all the streets were strew’d with sand,
  T’ exhibit a procession grand;
  And the Cathedral, lately scorn’d,
  With sumptuous frippery adorn’d.
  Brave Bonaparte and Josephine,
  Preceded by the Pope, walked in;
  His Holiness the crown anointed,
  And Boney Emperor appointed.
  Then Corsica’s impatient son,
  Snatch’d up the Crown, and put it on.
  The Crown was decked with French frippery,
  And with the oil, was rendered slippery;
  Nap kept it on, tho’, without dread,
  To let them know _he had a head_.
  And as to dally he was loth,
  He rapidly pronounc’d the oath--
  As soon as he the oath had swallow’d,
  Another Coronation follow’d--
  Fair Josephine advanced, and lo!
  Nap put on her a crown also.
  ‘Ah me!’ thought she, ‘there’s something wrong,
  I fear it will drop off ’ere long.’
  Of holy oil, it seems, the fair
  Had got too plentiful a share.
  This pantomimic business o’er,
  Now marched they grandly as before;
  For, tinsell’d pageantry united
  With an equestrian troop, delighted
  The new-made Emperor of Paris,
  As much as Covent Garden Harris;
  And all the people, for this wise end,
  Were in the finest garments dizen’d;
  They finish’d with illuminations,
  Songs, music, dancing and orations.
  The white wine, which in fountains flow’d,
  Considerable mirth bestow’d.
  The folks enjoy’d, free of expence,
  The glare of lights, which was immense:
  And the new Emperor, with glee,
  Drank, till no longer he could see.


Authentic news of the coronation did not reach England for nearly a
fortnight, and it was not till December 15 that the ‘Times’ was able to
give its readers a full account of the ceremony. ‘The Thunderer’ waxed
very wroth about it, as may be seen by the following extract from its
leader of that date:--

‘The “Moniteur” merely insinuates that the sun miraculously penetrated
through a thick fog, to be present at it: a compliment which is a
little diminished by a subsequent assertion, that the lamps were
afterwards able to supply his place by giving a noon-day brilliancy
to the night. Then follows a disgusting hypocritical panegyric upon
the union of civil and religious acts and ceremonies, the sublime
representation of all that human and divine affairs could assemble to
strike the mind--the venerable Apostolic virtues of the poor Pope,
and the most astonishing genius of Buonaparte crowned by the most
astonishing destiny!

‘The public will find these details, under their proper head, in
this paper. To us, we confess, all that appears worthy of remark or
memory in that opprobrious day is, that amongst all the Royalists and
Republicans of France, it was able to produce neither a BRUTUS nor a

‘The day subsequent to the coronation, the people of Paris were
entertained upon the bridges, boulevards, and public places, with
popular sports, dancing, and other pastimes and diversions.

‘Upon the PLACE DE CONCORDE, still stained with the blood of the lawful
sovereign of France, were erected saloons and pavilions for dancing
_waltzes_. Medals were given away to the populace; illuminations,
artificial fireworks, pantomimes, and buffoons, musicians, temporary
theatres, everything was represented and administered that could
intoxicate and divert this vain and wicked people from contemplating
the crime they were committing. To the profanation of the preceding
day, it seems that all the orgies of wantonness and corruption
succeeded in the most curious and careful rotation, and that all the
skill and science of the DAVIDS and CHENIERS has been exhausted to keep
them for four and twenty hours from thinking upon what they had done.’

But not only in leaders did the ‘Times’ pour forth its wrath; it
published little jokelets occasionally, which were meant to be
very stinging, as, for instance: Monsieur NAPOLEON has distributed
his Eagles by thousands. What his _talents_ might be doubtful of
accomplishing, he expects from his _talons_.’

The ‘Daily Advertiser’, too, of December 15 contains some pretty
sentiments on the coronation, such as, ‘If Modern Europe will, after
such fair notice, and a notice so often repeated, by the French
Government, still remain in sluggish inaction, in stupid astonishment,
at the success of that Ruffian, who now wields the sceptre of
CHARLEMAGNE, and has dragooned the POPE to his Coronation, it is
evident that nations so besotted are only fit to be enslaved.’



Very shortly after his coronation, and with the commencement of the
year 1805, Napoleon wrote a letter to George the Third, intimating how
beneficial peace would be to both countries.

The text of this letter, and its answer, are as follow:--

    Sire, my brother,--Called to the throne by Providence, and the
    suffrages of the Senate, the people, and the army, my first
    feeling was the desire for peace. France and England abuse
    their prosperity: they may continue their strife for ages; but
    will their governments, in so doing, fulfil the most sacred
    of the duties which they owe to their people? And how will
    they answer to their consciences for so much blood uselessly
    shed, and without the prospect of any good whatever to their
    subjects? I am not ashamed to make the first advances. I have,
    I flatter myself, sufficiently proved to the world that I
    fear none of the chances of war. It presents nothing which I
    have occasion to fear. Peace is the wish of my heart; but war
    has never been adverse to my glory. I conjure your Majesty,
    therefore, not to refuse yourself the satisfaction of giving
    peace to the world. Never was an occasion more favourable for
    calming the passions, and giving ear only to the sentiments
    of humanity and reason. If that opportunity be lost, what
    limit can be assigned to a war which all my efforts have been
    unable to terminate? Your Majesty has gained more during the
    last ten years than the whole extent of Europe in riches and
    territory: your subjects are in the very highest state of
    prosperity: what can you expect from a war? To form a Coalition
    of the Continental powers? Be assured the Coalition will
    remain at peace. A coalition will only increase the strength
    and preponderance of the French Empire. To renew our intestine
    divisions? The times are no longer the same. To destroy our
    finances? Finances founded on a flourishing agriculture can
    never be destroyed. To wrest from France her Colonies? They
    are to her only a secondary consideration; and your Majesty
    has already enough and to spare of these possessions. Upon
    reflection, you must, I am persuaded, yourself arrive at the
    conclusion, that the war is maintained without an object; and
    what a melancholy prospect, for two great nations to combat
    merely for the sake of fighting! The world is surely large
    enough for both to live in; and reason has still sufficient
    power to find the means of reconciliation, if the inclination
    only is not wanting. I have now, at least, discharged a duty
    dear to my heart. May your Majesty trust to the sincerity of
    the sentiments which I have now expressed, and the reality of
    my desire to give the most convincing proofs of it.

George the Third could not, constitutionally, personally reply to this
letter, so Lord Mulgrave answered it, under date of January 14, and
addressed it to Talleyrand. It ran thus:

    His Britannic Majesty has received the letter addressed to
    him by the Chief of the French Government There is nothing
    which his Majesty has more at heart, than to seize the first
    opportunity of restoring to his subjects the blessings of
    peace, provided it is founded upon a basis not incompatible
    with the permanent interests, and security, of his dominions.
    His Majesty is persuaded that that object cannot be attained
    but by arrangements, which may at the same time provide
    for the future peace, and security, of Europe, and prevent
    a renewal of the dangers, and misfortunes, by which it is
    now overwhelmed. In conformity with these sentiments, his
    Majesty feels that he cannot give a more specific answer to
    the overture which he has received until he has had time to
    communicate with the Continental powers to whom he is united
    in the most confidential manner, and particularly the Emperor
    of Russia, who has given the strongest proofs of the wisdom,
    and elevation, of the sentiments by which he is animated, and
    of the lively interest which he takes in the security and
    independence of Europe.

Apropos of this pacific overture, there is a very badly drawn picture
by Woodward (February 1, 1805), ‘A New Phantasmagoria for John Bull.’
Napoleon is seated on the French coast, directing his magic lantern
towards John Bull, exclaiming, ‘Begar de brave Galanté shew for Jonny
Bull.’ The magic lantern slide shows Napoleon coming over on a visit,
with a tricoloured flag in one hand, the other leading the Empress
Josephine, whose dress is _semée_ with bees. ‘Here we come Johnny--A
flag of Truce Johnny--something like a Piece! all decked out in Bees,
and stars, and a crown on her head; not such a patched up piece as
the last.’ The Russian bear is on one rock, John Bull on another--the
latter having his sword drawn. He says: ‘You may be d--d, and your
piece too! I suppose you thought I was off the watch--I tell you, I’ll
say nothing to you till I have consulted Brother Bruin, and I hear him
growling terribly in the offing.’

So we see that there was no hope of peace, as yet, and the war goes on.
I can hardly localise the following caricature:--

Argus (January 24, 1805) drew ‘The glorious Pursuit of Ten against

  God like his Courage seem’d, whom nor Delight
  Could soften, nor the Face of Death affright.’

The French and Spaniards are in full flight, calling out, ‘By Gar dare
be dat tam Nelson dat Salamander dat do love to live in de fire, by
Gar we make haste out of his way, or he blow us all up.’ Nelson leads
on nine old sea dogs, encouraging them thus: ‘The Enemy are flying
before you my brave fellows, _Seventeen_ against _Ten_ of us. Crowd
all the Sail you can, and then for George, Old England--_Death_ or
_Victory_!!!’ His followers utter such sentences as the following:
‘My Noble Commander, we’ll follow you the world over, and shiver my
Timbers but we shall soon bring up our lee way, and then, as sure as my
name is Tom Grog, we’ll give them another touch of the Battle of the
Nile’--‘May I never hope to see Poll again, if I would not give a whole
month’s flip if these lubberly Parly vous would but just stop one half
watch,’ &c. &c.

The style in which our sailors worked is very aptly illustrated
in a letter from an officer on board the _Fisgard_, off Cape St.
Vincent, dated November 28, 1804.[5] We must remember that war was
not officially declared against Spain until January 11, 1805; but
this gentleman writes: ‘We cannot desire a better station; we heard
of hostilities with Spain on October the 15th, and on that very
day we captured two Ships. Lord Nelson received from us the first
intelligence--we have already taken twelve ships and entertain
hopes of as many more. Yesterday we fell in with the _Donegal_,
Capt. Sir R. Strachan, who has taken a large Spanish Frigate, the
_Amphitrite_, after a chase of 46 hours, and 15 minutes’ action, in
which the Spanish Captain was killed; the prize was from Cadiz, with
despatches for _Teneriffe_ and the _Havana_, laden with stores. The
_Amphitrite_ Frigate, of 42 Guns, was one of the finest Frigates in
the Spanish Navy. The _Donegal_ chased the _Amphitrite_ for several
hours, sometimes gaining upon her, and sometimes losing; at length
the _Amphitrite_ carried away her mizen top mast, which enabled the
_Donegal_ to come up with her. A Boat was then despatched by Sir
Richard for the purpose of bringing the Spanish Captain on board. Some
difficulty arose from neither party understanding the language of the
other; at length Sir Richard acquainted the Spanish Captain, that in
compliance with the Orders he had received from his Admiral, he was
under the necessity of conducting the _Amphitrite_ back again to Cadiz,
and he allowed the Spanish Captain three minutes to determine whether
he would comply without compelling him to have recourse to force. After
waiting six minutes in vain for a favourable answer, the _Donegal_
fired into the _Amphitrite_, which was immediately answered with a
broadside. An engagement then ensued, which lasted about eight minutes,
when the _Amphitrite_ struck her colours. During this short engagement
the Spanish Captain was unfortunately killed by a musket ball. The
_Donegal_ has also captured another Spanish ship, supposed the richest
that ever sailed from Cadiz, her cargo reported worth 200,000_l._’

Another letter, dated November 29, adds, ‘We have this day taken a
large Ship from the River de la Plata.’

They had captured the following ships previous to December 3:--

  Nostra Signora del Rosario   value £10,000
  Il Fortuna                     ”     8,000
  St. Joseph                     ”    12,000
  La Virgine Assumpto            ”     6,000
  Apollo                         ”    15,000
  Signora del Purificatione      ”    40,000
  Fawket                         ”     1,100
  Gustavus Adolphus              ”     1,000
  A Settee                       ”       600
  A Ship with Naval Stores       ”    40,000

On February 26, 1805, Gillray published ‘The Plumb Pudding in danger;
or State Epicures taking un Petit Souper--’ the great globe itself,
and all which it inherits, ‘is too small to satisfy such insatiable
appetites.’ Napoleon is taking all Europe, whilst Pitt is calmly
appropriating all the ocean to himself.


There is now almost a total cessation of caricature until the autumn;
and it probably was in this wise. Napoleon did not actively bother this
country; his thoughts were, for the time, elsewhere. On March 17 a
deputation from the Italian Republic waited upon him, stating that it
was the desire of their countrymen that he should be their monarch, and
accordingly on April 2 he and Josephine left Paris for Milan.

  Another project fill’d his head,
  For vanity must still be fed;
  A second Charlemagne to prove,
  Our hero resolutely strove.
  Addresses manufactured he,
  All which were sent to Italy;
  To get additional renown,
  He to restore the iron crown
  Of Italy resolved,--by which
  He hoped his pockets to enrich.
  T’ obtain, was certainly his aim,
  O’er the Peninsula, a claim.
  Now, Nap, while filling out his wine,
  Told Josephine his bold design--
  ‘My dear,’ said he, and kiss’d her lip,
  To Italy, we’ll take a trip.’
  To bring about this great event,
  The Emperor and Empress went.
  When in Milan they both arrived,
  To coax the people Nap contrived;
  And being a great Saint believed,
  With adulation was receiv’d;
  He, by his condescension, proved
  How dearly he _his children_ loved.
  And on the Twenty Sixth of May
  Began our hero to display
  Another Coronation splendid,
  While on a throne he sat attended.
  Now highly honor’d and rever’d,
  The diadem of France appear’d
  On his right hand, and _inter alia_,
  All its magnificent regalia.
  Whilst on his left hand, to the sight,
  The crown of iron sparkled bright;
  Tho’ iron, this they used to call,
  The cross was iron, that was all.[6]
  The rest was diamonds and pure gold,
  And very lovely to behold.
  The Cardinal Archbishop then
  Began the ceremony--when
  Nap was Italian King protested,
  And with th’ insignia too invested;
  The altar steps he hasten’d soon up,
  And taking quick the precious boon up,
  He placed the Crown upon his head,
  And in a voice of thunder said
  ‘Since heav’n has giv’n to me this Crown,
  Who dares to touch it, I’ll knock him down.’[7]

An amateur drew, and Gillray etched (August 2, 1805), ‘St. George
and the Dragon, a Design for an Equestrian Statue from the Original
in Windsor Castle.’ Napoleon (a most ferocious dragon) has seized
upon poor Britannia, who, dropping her spear and shield, her hair
dishevelled, and her dress disordered, with upraised arm, attempts to
avert her fate; but St. George (George the Third) on horseback, comes
to the rescue, and, smiting that dragon, cleaves his crown.

As a practical illustration of the servile adulation with which he was
treated, take the following etching by Woodward (September 15, 1805):
‘Napoleon’s Apotheosis Anticipated, or the Wise Men of Leipsic sending
Boney to Heaven before his time!!! At the German University of Leipsic,
it was decreed that the Constellation called Orion’s Belt should
hereafter be named Napoleon in Honor of that Hero.--Query--Did the Wise
men of Leipsic mean it as an honor, or a reflection on the turbulent
spirit of Boney, as the rising of Orion is generally accompanied with
Storms and Tempests, for which reason he has the Sword in his hand.’
Orion has his belt round Napoleon’s neck, and is hoisting him up to
heaven thereby; Napoleon is kicking and struggling, and exclaims, ‘What
are you about--I tell you I would rather stay where I was.’ The German
_savants_ are watching him through their telescopes, saying, ‘He mounts
finely’--‘I think we have now made ourselves immortal’--‘It was a
sublime idea’--‘Orion seems to receive him better than I expected.’
This is confirmed in ‘Scot’s Magazine,’ 1807[8]: ‘The University of
Leipzig has resolved henceforth to call by the name of Napoleon that
group of stars which lies between the girdle and the sword of Orion;
and a numerous deputation of the University was appointed to present
the “Conqueror” with a map of the group so named!’

Napoleon hardly reckoned on Austria taking up arms against him without
a formal declaration of war, and was rather put to it to find men to
oppose the Allies, whose forces were reckoned at 250,000 men; whilst
France, though with 275,000 men at her disposal, had 180,000 of them
locked up in the so-called ‘Army of England.’ We can imagine his
chagrin in having to forego his cherished plan of invasion, and being
compelled to withdraw his troops from the French shores.

The ‘Times’ (how different a paper it was in those days to what it
is now!) is jubilant thereupon.[9] ‘The _Scene_ that now opens upon
the soldiers of France, by being obliged to leave the coast and march
eastwards, is sadly different from that _Land of Promise_, which, for
two years, has been held out to them, in all sorts of gay delusions.
After all the efforts of the _Imperial Boat-Builder_, instead of
sailing over the _Channel_, they will have to cross the _Rhine_. The
bleak _forests_ of Suabia will make but a sorry exchange for the
promised spoils of our _Docks_ and _Warehouses_. They will not find any
equivalent for the _plunder_ of the _Bank_ in another bloody passage
through “_the Valley of Hell_”; but they seem to have forgotten the
magnificent promise of the _Milliard_.’

The French papers affected to make light of this death-blow to their
hopes; one of them, quoted in the ‘Times’ of September 13, says:
‘Whilst the German Papers, with much noise, make more troops march than
all the Powers together possess, France, which needs not to augment her
forces in order to display them in an imposing manner, detaches a few
thousand troops from the Army of England to cover her frontiers, which
are menaced by the imprudent conduct of Austria.’

The caricaturist, of course, made capital out of it, and Rowlandson
(October 1, 1805) designed ‘The departure from the Coast or the End
of the Farce of Invasion.’ Napoleon, seated on a sorry ass, is sadly
returning, inland, homeward, to the intense delight of some French
monkeys. His Iron Crown is tottering off his head, and his steed is
loaded with the Boulogne Encampment, the Army of England, and Excuses
for non-performance. The British Lion on the English cliffs lifts his
leg and gives Boney a parting salute. The latter exclaims, ‘Bless me,
what a shower! I shall be wet through before I reach the Rhine.’

The action of the Allies is shown by the caricature, ‘Tom Thumb at Bay,
or the Sovereigns of the Forest roused at last,’ by Ansell (October
1805), which shows the Lilliputian Emperor, who has thrown away his
crown and sceptre, being fiercely pursued by a double-headed eagle,
a bear, and a boar, and is rushing into the open jaws of a ferocious
lion. ‘Which way shall I escape? If I fly from the Bear and the Eagle,
I fall into the jaws of the Lion!!’ Holland, Spain, and Italy, all have
yokes round their necks--but, seeing Bonaparte’s condition, Holland
takes his off and lays it on the ground. The Spaniard, surprised,
exclaims, ‘Why! Mynheer, you have got your yoke off!’ And the Italian,
who is preparing to remove his, says, ‘I think Mynheer’s right, and
now’s the time, Don, to get ours off.’ An army of rats is labelled,
‘Co-Estates ready to assist.’



Meantime the Austrians were in a very awkward position. General Mack
was, from October 13, closely invested in Ulm, and Napoleon had almost
need to restrain his troops, who were flushed with victory and eager
for the assault. The carnage on both sides would, in such a case, have
been awful; but Napoleon clearly pointed out to Mack his position: how
that, in eight days, he would be forced to capitulate for want of food:
that the Russians were yet far off, having scarcely reached Bohemia;
that no other aid was nigh:--and on October 20, the gates of Ulm were
opened, and 36,000 Austrian troops slowly defiled therefrom. Sixteen
generals surrendered with Mack, and Napoleon treated them generously.
All the officers were allowed to go home, their parole, not to fight
against France until there had been a general exchange of prisoners,
only being required; and Napoleon sent 50,000 prisoners into France,
distributing them throughout the agricultural districts.

Gillray drew (November 6, 1805) ‘The Surrender of Ulm, or Buonaparte
and Gen^l Mack coming to a right understanding--Intended as a Specimen
of French Victories--_i.e._ Conquering without Bloodshed!!!’ It shows a
little Napoleon, seated on a drum, whilst Mack and some other generals
are grovelling on all fours, delivering up their swords, banners,
and the keys of Ulm, to the conqueror. Napoleon, pointing to three
large sacks of money, borne by as many soldiers, exclaims: ‘There’s
your Price! There’s Ten Millions--Twenty!! It is not in my Army alone
that my resources of Conquering consists!! I hate victory obtain’d
by effusion of blood.’ ‘And so do I,’ says the crawling Mack; ‘What
signifies Fighting when we can settle it in a safer way.’ On the
ground is a scroll of ‘Articles to be deliver’d up. 1 Field Marshal.
8 Generals in Chief. 7 Lieutenant Generals. 36 Thousand Soldiers. 80
pieces of Cannon. 50 Stand of Colours. 100,000 Pounds of Powder. 4,000
Cannon Balls.’

This subject also attracted the pencil of I. Cruikshank (November
19, 1805): ‘Boney beating Mack--and Nelson giving him a Whack!! or
the British Tars giving Boney his Hearts desire, SHIPS, COLONIES and
COMMERCE.’ Mack is kneeling in a suppliant manner before Bonaparte,
who stamps upon his captive’s sword, addressing him: ‘I want not your
Forts, your Cities, nor your territories! Sir, I only want Ships,
Colonies and Commerce’--a very slight variation from the real text of
his address to the vanquished Austrian officers: ‘I desire nothing
further upon the Continent. I want ships, colonies, and commerce; and
it is as much your interest, as mine, that I should have them.’ During
this peroration military messengers are arriving. One calls out, ‘May
it please your King’s Majesty’s Emperor. That Dam Nelson take all your
ships. Twenty at a time. Begar, if you no come back directly they vill
not leave you vone boat to go over in.’ Another runs along crying,
‘Run, ma foi, anoder Dam Nelson take ever so many more ships.’ This is
an allusion to the battle of Trafalgar (October 21, 1805),[10] where
Nelson paid for his victory with his life. This is further illustrated
in another portion of the engraving, by Nelson, who is towing the
captured vessels, kneeling at Britannia’s feet, saying: ‘At thy feet,
O Goddess of the seas, I resign my life in the service of my country.’
Britannia replies: ‘My Son, thy Name shall be recorded in the page of
History on tablets of the brightest Gold.’

Rowlandson (November 13, 1805) further alludes to the surrender of Ulm
and the battle of Trafalgar: ‘Nap Buonaparte in a fever on receiving
the Extraordinary Gazette of Nelson’s Victory over the combined
Fleets.’ Boney is very sick and miserable, the combined effects of the
news which he has read in the paper which falls from his trembling
hands--the ‘Extraordinary Gazette. 19 Sail of the line taken by Lord
Nelson.’ He appeals to four doctors, who are in consultation on his
case: ‘My dear Doctors! those Sacré Anglois have play’d the Devil vid
my Constitution. Pray tell me what is the matter with me. I felt the
first symptoms when I told Gen^l Mack I wanted Ships, Colonies and
Commerce. Oh dear! oh dear! I shall want more ships now--this is a
cursed sensation--Oh I am very qualmish.’ One doctor opines it is ‘a
desperate case,’ another that he is ‘Irrecoverable.’ One recommends
bleeding; but one has thoroughly investigated the case, and found
out the cause: ‘Begar, me have found it out, _your heart be in your

  Now with such fury they push’d on,
  Memmengen the French Army won,
  And by the treachery of Mack,
  Ulm surrendered in a crack--
  Soon after the capitulation,
  The Austrians with consternation
  Laid down their arms, and to their shame,
  Napoleon’s prisoners became----

There were no caricatures of the battle of Trafalgar--the victory was
purchased at too great a cost; but Gillray executed a serious etching
in memory of Nelson, published on December 29, 1805, the funeral of the
hero taking place on the subsequent 9th of January.

The following caricature shows the quality of news supplied to our

‘John Bull exchanging News with the Continent’ is by Woodward, December
11, 1805, and represents Napoleon and a French newsboy on a rock called
_Falsehood_, disseminating news the reverse of true. The ‘Journal
de l’Empire’ says that Archduke Charles is dead with fatigue; the
‘Journal de Spectacle’ that England is invaded. The ‘Gazette de France’
informs us that the English fleet is dispersed, and the ‘Publicité’
follows it with the news that the combined fleets are sent in pursuit.
False bulletins are being scattered broadcast. These, however, have
but little effect on John Bull, who, attired as a newsboy, stands on
the rock of Truth, flourishing a paper, ‘Trafalgar London Gazette
extraordinary,’ and bellowing through his horn, ‘Total defeat of the
Combin’d Fleets of France and Spain,’ which is vividly depicted in the

‘Tiddy doll, the great French Gingerbread Baker, drawing out a new
Batch of Kings--his man Hopping Talley mixing up the Dough,’ is
a somewhat elaborate etching by Gillray (January 23, 1806). The
celebrated gingerbread maker has, on a ‘peel,’ three kings, duly
gilt--Bavaria, Wurtemberg, and Baden--which he is just introducing into
the ‘New French Oven for Imperial Gingerbread.’ On a chest of three
drawers, relatively labelled Kings and Queens, Crowns and Sceptres,
and Suns and Moons, are a quantity of ‘Little Dough Viceroys, intended
for the next batch.’ Under the oven is an ‘Ash hole for broken
Gingerbread,’ and a broom--‘the Corsican Besom of Destruction’--has
swept therein La République Française, Italy, Austria, Spain,
Netherlands, Switzerland, Holland, and Venice. On the ground is a
fool’s cap and bells, which acts as a cornucopia (labelled ‘Hot
Spiced Gingerbread, all hot; Come, who dips in my lucky bag’), which
disgorges stars and orders, principalities, dukedoms, crowns, sceptres,
cardinals’ hats, and bishops’ mitres; and a baker’s basket is full of
‘True Corsican Kinglings for Home Consumption and Exportation.’


Talleyrand--with a mitre on his head, and beads and cross round his
waist, to show his ecclesiastical status; with a pen in his mouth, and
ink-pot slung to his side, to denote his diplomatic functions--is hard
at work at the ‘Political Kneading Trough,’ mixing up Hungary, Poland,
Turkey, &c., whilst an eagle (Prussia) is pecking at a piece of dough

To thoroughly understand this caricature, we must first of all know
something about _Tiddy Doll_. He was a seller of gingerbread, and was
as famous in his time as was _Colly Molly Puff_ in the time of Steele
and Addison. He had a refrain, all his own, like a man well known to
dwellers in Brighton and the West End of London--‘_Brandy balls_.’
Hone[11] gives the best account of him that I know. Discoursing on _May
fair_, he says: ‘Here, too, was _Tiddy-doll_; this celebrated vendor of
gingerbread, from his eccentricity of character and extensive dealings
in his way, was always hailed as the king of itinerant tradesmen.[12]
In his person he was tall, well made, and his features handsome. He
affected to dress like a person of rank: white, gold-laced, suit
of clothes, laced ruffled shirt, laced hat and feather, white silk
stockings, with the addition of a fine white apron. Among his harangues
to gain customers, take this as a specimen: “Mary, Mary, where are you
_now_, Mary? I live, when at home, at the second house in little Ball
Street, two steps under ground, with a wiscum, riscum, and a why not.
Walk in ladies and gentlemen; my shop is on the second floor backwards,
with a brass knocker at the door. Here is your nice gingerbread, your
spice gingerbread; it will melt in your mouth like a redhot brickbat,
and rumble in your inside like Punch and his wheelbarrow.” He always
finished his address by singing this fag end of some popular ballad.

[Illustration: [MUSIC]

  Ti - tid - dy, ti - ti ti - tid - dy, ti - ti ti - tid-dy, ti - ti

  tid-dy did-dy dol - lol, ti - tiddy, ti - diddy ti - ti, tid-dy,
      tiddy, dol.’

Pitt died on January 23, 1806, and Fox succeeded him. It is probable
that Napoleon reckoned somewhat on Fox’s friendship, and hence the
following caricature:--


‘Boney and the Great Secretary’ (Argus, February 1806) gives a good
portrait of Fox. Napoleon wishes to be friendly: ‘How do you do, Master
Charley, why you are so fine, I scarcely knew ye--don’t you remember
me, why I am little Boney the Corsican--him that you came to see at
Paris, and very civil I was to you, I’m sure. If you come my way I
shall be glad to see you, so will my wife and family. They are a little
changed in their dress, as well as you. We shall be very happy to take
a little _peace_ soup with you, whenever you are inclined, Master
Charley.’ But Fox shakes his fist at him: ‘Why, you little Corsican
Reptile! how dare you come so near the person of the Right Honble C----
J---- F---- one of his M---- principal Secretaries of State, Member
of the P.C. &c., &c., &c., &c., &c., &c., &c., &c.--go to see YOU!!!
Arrogant little Man, Mr. Boney--if you do not instantly vanish from my
sight--I’le break every bone in your body--learn to behave yourself
in a _peaceable_ manner, nor dare to set your foot on this happy land
without MY leave.’

Of ‘Pacific Overtures, or a Flight from St. Cloud, “over the Water
to Charley,” a new Dramatic Peace now rehearsing’ (Gillray, April 5,
1806), only a portion is given in the accompanying illustration, but
quite sufficient to explain the negotiations for peace then in progress.


This caricature is far too elaborate to reproduce the whole, and the
allusions therein are extremely intricate and, nowadays, uninteresting.
A theatrical stage is represented, with Napoleon descending in clouds,
pointing to Terms of Peace, which are being displayed by Talleyrand,
and saying, ‘There’s my terms.’ These are as follow: ‘Acknowledge me
as Emperor; dismantle your fleet; reduce your army; abandon Malta and
Gibraltar; renounce all Continental connexion; your Colonies I will
take at a valuation; engage to pay to the Great Nation, for seven years
annually, £1,000,000; and place in my hands as hostages, the Princess
Charlotte of Wales, with ten of the late administration, whom I shall

King George has stepped from his box on to the stage, and is surveying
this vision through his glass, exclaiming: ‘Very amusing terms indeed,
and might do vastly well with some of the new made little gingerbread
kings[13]; but we are not in the habit of giving up either “ships, or
commerce, or colonies” merely because little Boney is in a pet to have

Ansell (April 1806) drew ‘Roast Beef and French Soup. The English
Lamb * * * and the French Tiger,’ and it seems merely designed
for the purpose of introducing Daniel Lambert, who was then on
exhibition--‘Daniel Lambert who at the age of 36 weighed above 50
Stone, 14 Pounds to the Stone, measured 3 yards 4 inches round the
Body, and 1 yard 1 inch round the leg. 5 feet 11 inches high.’ It shows
the redoubtable fat man seated on a couch, carving a round of beef,
which is accompanied by a large mustard-pot, a huge loaf, and a foaming
pot of stout. Napoleon, seated on a similar couch, on the opposite side
of the table, is taking soup--then an unaccustomed article of food with
Englishmen--and looks with horror at the other’s size and manner of

Daniel Lambert was like Mr. Dick in ‘David Copperfield,’ who would
persist in putting King Charles the First’s head into his Memorial;
he could hardly be kept out of the caricatures. Ansell produced one
(May 1806)--‘Two Wonders of the World, or a Specimen of a new troop
of Leicestershire Light Horse.--Mr. Daniel Lambert, who at the age of
36 weighed above 50 Stone, 14 Pounds to the Stone, measured 3 yards 4
inches round the body and 1 yard 1 inch round the leg, 5 feet 11 inches
high. The famous horse Monarch, the largest in the World is upwards of
21 hands high, (above 7 foot)[14] and only 6 Years old.’ Lambert is
mounted on this extraordinary quadruped, and, sword in hand, is riding
at poor little Boney, who exclaims in horror, ‘Parbleu! if dis be de
specimen of de English light Horse, vat vill de Heavy Horse be? Oh, by
Gar, I vill put off de Invasion for anoder time.’

Yet once more are these two brought into juxtaposition, in an engraving
by Knight (April 15, 1806), ‘Bone and Flesh, or John Bull in moderate
Condition.’ Napoleon is looking at this prodigy, and saying, ‘I
contemplate this Wonder of the World, and regret that all my Conquered
Domains cannot match this Man. Pray, Sir, are you not a descendant
from the great Joss of China?’ Lambert replies, ‘No Sir, I am a true
born Englishman, from the County of Leicester. A quiet mind, and good
Constitution, nourished by the free Air of Great Britain, makes every
Englishman thrive.’

Another of Gillray’s caricatures into which Napoleon is introduced,
but in which he plays a secondary part, is called ‘Comforts of a Bed
of Roses; vide Charley’s elucidation of Lord C--stl--r--gh’s speech!
Nightly Scene near Cleveland row.’ This is founded on a speech of Lord
Castlereagh’s, in which he congratulated the Ministry as having ‘a bed
of roses.’ But Fox, in reply, recounted his difficulties and miseries,
and said: ‘Really, it is insulting to tell me I am on a bed of roses,
when I feel myself torn, and stung, by brambles, and nettles, whichever
way I turn.’

Fox and Mrs. Fox are shown as sleeping on a bed of roses, some of which
peep out from underneath the rose-coloured counterpane, but which
display far more of thorns than of roses. There is the _India rose_,
the Emancipation rose, the French rose, the Coalition rose, and the
Volunteer rose. Fox’s slumbers are terribly disturbed; his _bonnet
rouge_, which he wears as night-cap, has tumbled off; his night-shirt
is seized at the neck, on one side by the ghost of Pitt, who exclaims:
‘Awake, arise, or be for ever fall’n!’ The other side is fiercely
clutched by Napoleon, who, drawn sword in hand, has just stepped on
to the bed from a cannon labelled ‘Pour subjuguer le monde.’ Amidst a
background of smoke appear spears, and a banner entitled ‘Horrors of
Invasion.’ The Prussian eagle is preparing to swoop down upon him, and,
from under the bed, crawls out a skeleton holding an hour-glass, whilst
round its fleshless arm is entwined a serpent ‘Intemperance, Dropsy,
Dissolution.’ John Bull, as a bull-dog, is trying to seize Napoleon.

‘John Bull threatened by Insects from all Quarters’ is by an unknown
artist (April 1806). John Bull is on ‘The tight little Island,’ and
seated on a cask of grog. With one hand he flourishes a cutlass,
and the other grasps a pistol, of which weapon two more lie on the
ground. With these he defies the insects, which come in swarms. There
are Westphalian mites, American hornets, Dutch bluebottles, Italian
butterflies, Turkish wasps, Danish gnats, and, worst of all, a French
dragon-fly, in the shape of Napoleon. John Bull is saying: ‘Come on my
Lads--give me but good sea room, and I don’t care for any of you--Why
all your attacks is no more than a gnat stinging an Elephant, or a flea
devouring Mr. Lambert of Leicester.’

A very clever caricature is by Knight (June 26, 1806) of ‘Jupiter
Bouney granting unto the Dutch Frogs a King. The Frogs sent their
deputies to petition Jupiter again for a King. He sent them a Stork,
who eat them up, vide Æsop’s fables.’ The discontented Dutch spurn
their King Log, and pray, ‘We present ourselves before the throne of
your Majesty. We pray that you will grant us, as the supreme Chief of
our Republic, Prince Louis.’ Napoleon, as Jupiter, seated on an eagle
(which is made to look as much like a devil as possible), says: ‘I
agree to the request. I proclaim Prince Louis, King of Holland. You
Prince! reign over this People.’ And the stork is duly despatched on
its mission. Talleyrand, as Ganymede, supplies Jupiter with _a cup of
comfort for the discontented_.



Apropos of the negotiations for peace, there is a picture of Woodward’s
(July 1806), in which Fox is just closing the door behind a messenger
laden with despatches. John Bull, whose pockets are stuffed with
_Omnium_ and _Speculation on Peace_, entreats him with clasped
hands: ‘Now do Charley, my dear good boy, open the door a little bit
farther, just to enable me to take in a few of my friends at the
Stock Exchange.’ But Fox remonstrates: ‘Really, Mr. Bull, you are too
inquisitive--don’t you see the door for Negotiation is opened? don’t
you see the back of a Messenger? don’t you see he has got dispatches
under his arm? what would you desire more?’

‘Experiments at Dover, or Master Charley’s Magic Lanthorn,’ is by
Rowlandson (July 21, 1806), and shows Fox seated on the seashore,
projecting images on to the opposite coast. The slide he is passing
through the lantern begins with a ‘Messenger from Boulogne,’ then a
‘Messenger to Paris,’ then ‘More Dispatches’; and he is now showing
Bonaparte as a newsboy, with his horn, calling out ‘Preliminaries of
Peace.’ The next, and final, picture to come is a man waving his hat
and shouting ‘Huzza.’ Fox is saying: ‘There, Master Bull, what do you
think of that--I told you I would surprize you. Preliminaries of Peace!
Huzza!’ But John Bull is not quite satisfied with his conduct, and
fancies there has been something kept from him. ‘Why yes, it be all
very foine, if it be true. But I can’t forget that d--d Omnium last
week--they be always one way or other in contradictions! I tell thee
what, Charley, since thee hast become a great man--I think in my heart
thee beest always conjuring.’

‘The Pleasing and Instructive Game of _Messengers_--or Summer Amusement
for John Bull,’ by Ansell (August 1806), shows us the Channel, on
both sides of which a lively game is being kept up by means of
racket bats, a constant supply of balls, in the shape of messengers,
between the two countries, being kept in the air. Their messages are
Peace, Hope, Despair, No peace, Passports, Peace to a Certainty, No
peace, Credentials, Despatches, &c. On the French side, Napoleon and
Talleyrand keep the game alive, ‘Begar Talley, dis be ver amusant--Keep
it up as long as you can, that we may have time for our project.’
Sheridan, Fox, and others play on the English side; John Bull being
merely a spectator, not too much amused, as a paper, protruding from
his pocket, shows: ‘Very shy at the Stock Exchange.’ Sheridan calls
out: ‘That’s right my lads, bang ’em about. John Bull seems quite
puzzled.’ Fox asks: ‘Is not it a pretty game Johnny?’ Johnny, however,
says: ‘Pretty enough as to that, they do fly about monstrous quick to
be sure: but you don’t get any more money out of my pocket for all

[Illustration: NEWS FROM CALABRIA.]

Gillray gives us a veritable caricature in ‘News from Calabria!
Capture of Buenos Ayres! i.e. the Comforts of an Imperial Dejeune at
St. Clouds’ (September 13, 1806), a portion only of which is given in
illustration. Boney is here, terrific in his wrath; poor Talleyrand,
who has brought the news, is receiving grievous punishment from his
Imperial master. Not only is his ear pulled (a favourite trick of
Napoleon’s), but he is being belaboured with the tea-urn, which is made
in the form of the world: his master crying out: ‘Out on ye Owl, noting
but song of Death!!’ Napoleon has kicked over the breakfast-table, and
the scalding contents of the tea-urn are being deposited in the lap
of Josephine, who screams with agony and terror. The maids of honour
and courtiers, though refraining from open demonstration, look aghast
at the imperial violence, which is not diminished by the presence of
a number of messengers, whose news is particularly unwelcome: ‘Spain
in despair for the loss of her Colonies.’ ‘All Germany rising, and
arming _en Masse_.’ ‘Holland starving, and ripe for a revolt.’ ‘St.
Petersburg: refusal to ratify the French Treaty.’ ‘Prussia rousing
from the Trance of Death.’ ‘Swedish defiance. Charles XII. redivivus.’
‘Switzerland cursing the French yoke.’ ‘Italy shaking off her Chains.’
‘La Vendée again in motion.’ ‘Portugal true to the last gasp.’ ‘Sicily
firing like Etna.’ ‘Denmark waiting for an opportunity.’ ‘Turkey
invoking Mahomet.’ Naturally, all this bad news contributes towards
making it a ‘hard time’ for Talleyrand.

Argus gives us (September 1806) ‘The Continental Shaving Shop. Boney
beats Jemmy Wright, who shaved as well as any man, almost, not quite’
(September 1806). As a barber, he is going to shave the Grand Turk,
and, flourishing an enormous razor of Corsican steel, seizes his beard.
This the Turk naturally objects to, saying: ‘By the Holy Prophet, I
must not part with my beard, why, my people will not acknowledge me for
the grand Signor again at Constantinople.’ Talleyrand, as assistant,
is lathering the Turk’s face, persuading him, ‘Come, come, don’t make
such a fuss, my Master _will_ cut away when he catches anybody in his
shop.’ Boney calls out: ‘Lather away Talley. I’ll soon ease him of his
superfluities and make him look like my Christian customers.’

The sort of treatment they are likely to get is clearly set forth in
an announcement on the wall. ‘Nap Boney, shaver general to most of the
Sovereigns on the Continent, shaves expeditiously, and clean, a few
gashes excepted; is ready to undertake any new Customer who is willing
to submit to the above.’ His treatment is exemplified by the appearance
of Austria, whose gashed face and head is ornamented with strips of
court-plaister. He is talking to John Bull, who looks in at a window:
‘Come, Johnny, come in and be shaved, don’t be frightened at the size
of the razor, it cuts very clean, I assure you.’ His reply is, ‘By
Goles so it seems, and leaves a dom’d sight of gashes behoind, as you
and Mynheer can testify!!’ Poor Holland is in even a worse plight than
Austria, and is talking to Prussia, who is sitting in a chair, ready
lathered for shaving. Says he to the Dutchman: ‘I hope he don’t mean
to shave me as he has you, and my neighbour Austria there? I should
not sit here so quietly with my face lathered.’ Holland replies: ‘Yaw
Mynheer very close shaver, its nix my doll when you are used to it.’

‘Political Quadrille’ is by Ansell (October 1806), and represents two
sets playing that game of cards. One set is composed of George the
Third, Russia, Spain, and Prussia. The other consists of Napoleon,
Italy, Holland, and Austria. George the Third says: ‘I never had luck
when the Curse of Scotland[15] was in my hand--however I have now
discarded it--Ay this will do--I have now a strong suit, without a
_knave_ among them.’ Russia observes: ‘I never had such luck since I
have been a Russian, compleatly bested off the board--but that I must
endeavour to forget, and try to play better in future.’ Spain says: ‘I
was obliged to play, tho’ it was _forced Spadille_. My Queen deceived
me--but however I must not now give myself _Ayres_, as I have lost all
my Dollars.’ Prussia remarks: ‘Shall I play or not? If I play, I fear I
shall be bested, and if not, they will call me _Prussian Cake_.’

In the other set of players, Napoleon says: ‘I begin to fancy I can
play alone--No, I can call a _King_ when I please, I am strong in my
suits--besides I know how to finesse my Cards.’ Austria says: ‘For the
present I fear the game is up with me, so I _pass_.’ Italy says: ‘I
fear it is nearly over with poor _Ponto_.’ Holland reflects: ‘I have
got a _King_ without calling one--but I have no _Trump_ now, and I fear
I shall lose all my fish.’

Fox died in September 1806, and was buried, October 10, in Westminster
Abbey, close to the remains of his rival Pitt. With him were buried
the last hopes of a peace with France, and, in October, finding all
negotiations unsuccessful (Great Britain requiring Russia to be made a
party to the Treaty, which France refused), Lord Lauderdale demanded
his passports, and left for England.

Meanwhile, Napoleon marched on from victory to victory. The battle of
Jena, the occupation of Erfurth, Greissen, Hall, Leipzig, Ascherleben,
Bemburg, Spandau, Potsdam, and, lastly, of Berlin, were all in his
triumphal march.

  A public entry having made,
  At Berlin he his airs display’d;
  A Court day absolutely held,
  And due attendance there compell’d.
  Of Prussia’s King he made a scoff,
  And all his little taunts play’d off.
  And here he issued a decree,
  The most invet’rate that could be,
  In hopes t’annoy Great Britain’s trade,
  All Commerce with her he forbade.
  The Capture he ordain’d, ’tis true,
  Of British ships--the seizure, too,
  Of letters, if in English written,
  Or if directed to Great Britain;
  And this he styled--a strange romance!
  The fundamental law of France.

The decree is dated from Berlin, November 21, 1806, and, after a
preamble, states:--‘1. The British Islands are declared in a state
of blockade. 2. All trade and intercourse with the British Islands is
prohibited; consequently letters or packets addressed to England, or
written in the English language, will not be conveyed by post, and will
be seized. 3. Every native of England, whatever his rank and condition,
who may be found in the countries occupied by our troops, or by those
of our allies, shall be made prisoners of war. 4. Every warehouse, and
all merchandise and property of any description whatever, belonging
to an English subject, or the produce of English manufactures or
colonies, is declared good prize. 5. Trade in English merchandise is
prohibited, and all merchandise belonging to England, or the produce
of her manufactures, and colonies, is declared good prize. 6. One half
of the produce of the confiscation of the merchandise, and property,
declared good prize by the preceding articles, will be appropriated to
the indemnification of the merchants, for losses they have sustained,
through the capture of trading vessels, by English cruisers. 7. No
vessel coming directly from England, or her colonies, or having been
there since the publication of the present decree, will be received in
any port. 8. Any vessel which, by means of a false declaration, shall
contravene the above article, shall be seized, and the Ship and Cargo
shall be confiscated as if they were English property,’ &c.

The _Times_, of December 8, commenting on this proclamation, says:--‘If
our orders of Council, and our Navy are not competent to seal up the
ports of France, we should be glad to know how Buonaparte, who can
scarce venture to _steal_ a ship to sea, is to retaliate with effect
upon this country. We believe none of the nations, which are yet free
to trade with us, will be deterred by a Decree emitted at Berlin, from
sending their produce to the markets of Britain. Of all the follies
that have ever escaped from Buonaparte, in the extravagance, and
intoxication, of his ambition, and success, this we consider as one
of the greatest. He, in fact, pledges himself to that which he has no
adequate means whatever of carrying into effect. His Decree will have
as little influence upon the trade of England, as his Navy has.’

Ansell designed (December 1806) ‘Jack Tars conversing with Boney on
the Blockade of Old England.’ Napoleon is vapouring about behind his
fortifications, flourishing his sword, ‘The Terror of the Continent,’
and saying: ‘Begar by my Imperial decree, _England_ is in a State of
Blockade.’ Two sailors are in a small boat called the _Nelson_, and
one says: ‘Why what do you mean by that, you whipper snapper--Heres
Tom Pipes, and I, in this little cock boat, will Blockade you so that
you dare not bring out a single vessel--Blockade, indeed! you are a
pretty fellow to talk of blockading!’ His companion contemptuously
adds: ‘I wonder, Jack, you throw away your precious time in talking
to such a lubber.’ John Bull, pipe in hand, stands on the cliffs of
Albion, roaring with laughter. ‘I cannot help laughing at the whimsical

Souley (December 1806) drew ‘Bonaparte blockading John Bull.’

  Boney for want of proper Sail,
  By threats bombastic would prevail.

Boney and his army are crossing the Channel in their cocked hats; he,
presenting sword and pistol at John Bull, says: ‘I’ll Blockade ye, ye
English Scoundrel. ’Tis you thwart all my designs--’Tis you and you
only who dare oppose MY WILL. But I’ll Blockade ye--and not one of your
rascally Craft shall stir.’ John Bull, convulsed with laughter, is
dancing, and saying: ‘Shiver my timbers, here’s a go! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Why Master Boney you look like Neptune crossing the _Line_. I suppose
next you will be blockading the moon.’

And so ends the year 1806.



1807 commences with ‘JOHN BULL playing on the BASE Villain’ (artist
unknown, January 1, 1807), in which we see that revered personage
playing ‘Britains Strike home’ on poor Boney, with a sword in lieu of a
bow, and grasping him tightly round the neck.

In November 1806, Napoleon, with his army, had entered Poland, and, on
December 18 of the same year, he entered Warsaw.

An unknown artist (January 1807) depicts ‘The Entrance into Poland
or another Bonne Bouche for Boney.’ On their knees are the Polish
magnates, who exclaim: ‘What a happy day for Poland!’ The foremost
is kissing the toe of Napoleon, who says: ‘Rise up _free_ and
_independent_ Polanders, depend upon it you shall have a King, and I’ll
be Vice Roy _over him_.’ Behind, a standard-bearer carries a flag,
on which is shown a pair of shackles, a guillotine, and two crossed
swords, with the legend, ‘Comfort for the Poles.’ Beside him, another
French soldier is emptying a sack of fetters.

The Russians withdrew for a time, but only to return in force, and
Napoleon had to change his tactics to meet them; he therefore proposed
to concentrate his forces, and compel the Russians to give battle, with
the Vistula in their rear, and he himself between them and Russia. His
despatches, however, were intercepted, and the battle was precipitated.
Augereau’s division lost its way, and was cut up by the Russians; and
Bernadotte did not come, as the despatches, bidding him do so, had
been captured. The fight in the snow at Preuss Eylau was fearful, and
the carnage, especially in the churchyard, was horrible. Four thousand
men died there. The French put down their loss in this battle as 2,000
killed, 6,000 wounded; while the loss of the Russians was 7,000 dead,
16,000 wounded, 12,000 prisoners, and 45 cannon taken.

That the blockade still galled us is evidenced by a caricature of
Woodward’s (January 27, 1807), who designed ‘The Giant Commerce
overwhelming the Pigmy Blockade.’ Commerce is a strange figure: its
cap is _Wedgwood ware_, its face _Staffordshire ware_, its eyes _Derby
Porcelain_, and its mouth _Worcester porcelain_. Its body is _Wool_,
arms of _printed calico_, and its hands are encased in _Woodstock
gloves_. It wears a _Norwich shawl_, has _leather_ breeches, _Fleecy
hosiery_ stockings, and _Staffordshire_ shoes. It is actively employed
in hurling various missiles at Napoleon, who is sheltered behind his
fortifications. These implements of offence consist of such articles
as _Birmingham steel_, _pig iron_, _scissors_, _combs_, _knives and
forks_, _block tin_, _sugar_, _patent coffins_, _Birmingham buttons_,
and a cask each of _London porter_, _Maidstone_, _Geneva_, and _British
spirits_. Napoleon entreats: ‘Pray Mr. Commerce don’t overwhelm me, and
I will take off de grande Blockade of old England.’

The two following caricatures were designed and published before the
news had arrived in England of the crushing defeat of the Russians at
Eylau, which only appeared publicly in the ‘Times’ of March 10.

Ansell (March 1807) gives ‘Boney and his Army in Winter Quarters.’
In the background is a _State Prison for Prisoners of War_; and,
in the centre of the picture, the Russian bear hugs poor Boney, and
prepares to drop him in the river Bug, in which is a board inscribed,
‘Hic Jacet. Snug in the Bug several thousands of the great nation.’
Bruin growls: ‘Hush a bye! Hush a bye! take it all quietly, you’ll
soon find yourself as snug as a bug in a rug.’ But Boney, writhing
in the embrace, cries out: ‘Oh D--n the Bug, I wish I had never seen
it. My dear Talley--don’t tell my faithful subjects the true state
of my situation. Any thing but the truth, my dear Talley--Oh this
Cursed Russian bear, how close he hugs me.’ Talleyrand, with one foot
in the Vistula, and the other on land, replies: ‘Leave me alone for
a Bulletin’--applies his lips to a trumpet, from which issues a true
and a false report. The true one, ‘4000 prisoners, 3000 drowned, 12
Eagles taken, 12000 killed,’ is disappearing into thin air; whilst that
‘For Paris’ is as follows: ‘Grand Bulletin. The august Emperor of the
great Nation informs his faithful, and beloved, subjects, that, having
performed wonders on the banks of the Bug, he has now closed a glorious
campaign for the season, and retired with ease, and comfort, into
Winter quarters.’

‘The Political Cock horse’ (Souley, March 10, 1807) shows Napoleon’s
somewhat ragged white charger stumbling over a stone, ‘Insatiable
Ambition.’ Benningsen has jumped up behind him, seized the reins,
and hurled Boney to the ground. In his fall he loses his sword
‘Oppression,’ and cries out pitifully, ‘Stop, stop, good Benningsen,
don’t kill a poor fellow! An Armistice! an Armistice! I have very good
proposals of peace for you.’ But the relentless Russian prepares to run
him through with his sword, saying: ‘You Bombastic Scoundrel, Robber,
Murderer, Violator, Incendiary, &c., &c., &c. You thought of reigning
with your Iron Crown (in) the North, as well as the South. But know,
Tyrant, that the Sons of the North are to be your Superior.’ John Bull
encourages him with ‘Bravo, bravo, brave Russians: One home stroke
more, and good bye to Master Boney.’


Of Gillray’s caricature of ‘The New Dynasty; or the little Corsican
Gardener Planting a Royal Pippin Tree,’ only a portion is given--that
relating to Napoleon. The Old Royal Oak is being hewn down by ‘All the
Talents,’ and Talleyrand is busy digging a hole to receive Napoleon’s
royal pippin, which is to take its place. The topmost pippin, which
is crowned, represents Lord Moira, who claimed to be descended from
the old kings of Ballynahinch. The others are, ‘Countess of Salisbury
beheaded 1505,’ ‘Duchess of Cleves put to death in 1453,’ ‘Henry de
la Pole beheaded in 1538,’ ‘Plantagenet beheaded in 1415,’ ‘Crookback
Richard killed at Bosworth,’ ‘Edmund, 4th son of Henry 2, beheaded.’
The royal pippins behind, which have already been planted, and have
taken root, are labelled respectively, ‘Etruria, Wurtemburg, Saxon,
Holland, and Italian;’ whilst on the ground, by a basket, are grafts,
which respectively represent Sir Francis Burdett, Cobbett, and Horne

Napoleon pursued his victories over the Russians. Dantzig was taken;
at Friedland the Russians lost 18,000 men and 25 generals, killed
and wounded, and at last Königsberg was taken by Soult, after having
been evacuated by the Russians. It was time for them to beg for an
armistice, and on June 21 one was concluded. Napoleon was asked to have
an interview with the Emperor of Russia, to which he consented, and
Tilsit was the place appointed; and, in order that this meeting should
be quite private, and free from interruption, Napoleon ordered a large
raft to be moored in the middle of the Niemen, on which was erected a
room with two antechambers, all elegantly furnished and decorated. Both
the roof and the doors were ornamented with French and Russian eagles.
On June 25 they met; Napoleon reached the raft first, and stood on
its edge to welcome Alexander. They met and parted in a most friendly
manner. This incident, it is needless to say, afforded a fine subject
to the caricaturist.

Ansell gives us, certainly, a more comic representation of the meeting
of the Emperors than any other caricaturist (July 1807). Bonaparte is
hugging the Emperor of Russia in a most exaggerated style, saying: ‘My
dear Brother--receive this Fraternal Embrace out of pure affection.’
But Russia, finding the raft tilting violently, and not liking such
demonstrative affection, exclaims, ‘Zounds, Brother, you’ll squeeze me
to death--besides, I find my side of the raft is sinking very fast.’
Poor Prussia is floundering in the water, his crown floating away from
him: ‘What a Prussian cake I was to listen to him--I am afraid I shall
never recover it.’


  Nap, with the hopes of peace delighted,
  The Russian Emperor invited,
  And for this interview, with craft,
  Had been prepar’d a pretty raft,
  Which on the river Niemen floated,
  With two commodious tents, devoted
  To the sole use of the contractors,
  Who were indeed conspicuous actors;
  The signal given, as commanded,
  Each from his boat together landed,
  And on this raft, their ends to get,
  By Nap, was Alexander met--
  Exchanging the fraternal hug
  They took their seats in manner snug;
  When Nap began his wheedling jargon,
  And made, depend on’t, a good bargain.
  The peace of Tilsit, as recorded,
  A temporary rest afforded.

  And now three sovereigns, they say,
  Sat down together very gay:
  Meaning the Emperor of Russia,
  Our hero, and the King of Prussia:
  Their visits to each other, they
  Alternately were wont to pay.
  Napoleon talk’d of this and that,
  And entertain’d them with his chat.
  Their life guards, who were much delighted,
  To dinner, were by Nap invited,
  The brotherly embrace went round,
  There was not a discordant sound.
  In harmony the day they spent,
  Each countenance display’d content.
  Now matters were so well arrang’d,
  A while they uniforms exchang’d,
  And after they had dined, and talk’d,
  Together through the streets they walked.

Ansell drew (July 1807) ‘An Imperial Bonne bouche, or the dinner at
Tilsit.’ Napoleon, attended by his guards, sits on one side of the
table, and the Emperor of Russia opposite to him; the latter has but
an empty plate, and a castor of cayenne pepper before him, whilst
Napoleon is stuffing his mouth with ‘Continental slices,’ and has
besides, immediately before him, ‘Austerlitz biscuit,’ ‘Friedland Pye,’
and ‘Eylau Custard,’ which he intends carving with his sword. But
he banters his brother Emperor with ‘My dear Brother, you dont eat;
What is the matter with you? see what a hearty meal our other beloved
Cousin, and brother, is making, from the Crumbs that fall from the
table.’ And Prussia is seen on his knees, picking up some fragments of
a ‘Prussian Cake.’ Russia, with expectant knife and fork, looks very
blankly at his _confrère_, and replies: ‘How the deuce, brother, am I
to eat when you keep everything to yourself?’

‘Mutual Honors at Tilsit, or the Monkey, the Bear and the Eagle’
(August 1807), by Ansell, represents Napoleon, as a monkey, seated
on a drum, having a plaque upon his breast, inscribed ‘Order of St.
Andrew, to our Faithful &c. &c. &c. Fudge,’ decorating a bear with
‘The Legion of Honor. To our trusty and beloved Cousin &c. &c. Fudge.’
The poor bear wears a fool’s cap and bells, and is muzzled, whilst
its throat is galled by a spiked collar, called, in irony, ‘Collar
of Independence.’ Napoleon says, ‘Really, Brother Bruin--you never
look’d so fine in your life. You cannot think how the medal, and cap
and bells, become you.’ But the bear ruefully ruminates, ‘I shall
really be ashamed to return to my own Fraternity. I wonder what my old
Friend, the Lion, will say.’ The Prussian eagle is also decorated with
the collar of the Legion of Honour, but is in a wofully dilapidated
condition, which is well explained by its own reflections: ‘It is
certainly very fine--but, what with having one of my heads chopped
off--and the crown half cracked of the other; besides having my wings
cropp’d, I think, somehow, I was better off before.’

The English, perforce, had to keep up their courage, and one etching,
by Ansell (August 1807), represents, in the background, Napoleon on
his throne, and all the European sovereigns grovelling before him.
The foreground is occupied by Britannia and John Bull. The former
asks: ‘Do give me your advice--what am I to do--All my foreign Allies
have deserted me,--even Russia has joined them, they are bending at
the feet of the usurper.’ John Bull, a truculent-looking sailor, with
oaken Cudgel, replies: ‘What are you to do? Why stick to me, your old
and faithful ally John Bull, who will never desert you while he has a
timber to support him.’ The picture is called ‘Britannia in tribulation
for the loss of her Allies, or John Bull’s advice.’

In ‘The Polish Pie, or the Effects of the Peace at Tilsit’ (artist
unknown, September 10, 1807), we see the Emperor of Russia, and
Napoleon, carving a huge ‘Polish pie,’ the Russian’s opinion of which
is ‘I think I never relished a Pie so well in all my life.’ Whilst thus
engaged, comes poor, wounded, tattered Prussia, humbly, with hat in
hand: ‘Pray give a part of the Pie to a poor broken-down Prussian--You
know you promised me formerly you would not touch it; but now you have
reduced me to poverty, crutches, and a wooden leg--you’ll not allow
me a mouthfull, ’tis a very hard case indeed! Pray remember a poor
Prussian!’ Napoleon turns to his brother Emperor, and opines, ‘Suppose,
Cousin, we give him a small piece of the _Crust_, just to keep him from

The Danes sought to curry favour with Napoleon, or perhaps they were
obliged to act as they did; but they closed their ports, such as
Holstein, &c., to British ships, which John Bull could not stand. So
Admiral Gambier, with a fleet, having on board 20,000 troops, sailed to
set matters right. Negotiations failed, and the admiral used the _force
majeure_ at his disposal. Copenhagen was bombarded, and on September 8
the British took possession of the fortifications, &c., of Copenhagen,
captured the whole Danish fleet, fully armed and equipped, consisting
of 18 sail of the line, 15 frigates, 6 brigs, and 25 gun-boats, which
were safely navigated to England, with the exception of one ship, which
was stranded. Unfortunately, Copenhagen itself suffered severely, guns
not being so scientifically constructed as at present, and accuracy as
to range was impossible.

‘Gulliver towing the Fleet into Lilliput!’ (I. Cruikshank, October
16, 1807) shows Admiral Gambier swimming towards England, towing
the captured vessels. George the Third, on a Martello tower,
watching him through his spy-glass, and saying, with his accustomed
iteration, ‘What, What, Gulliver the 2nd--he--Gulliver the 2nd--More
Nelsons--more Nelsons--brave fellows!’ On the Continent Napoleon
is seen furious, and the countries under his sway are in different
attitudes of despair. Napoleon shouts out, ‘Curse that fellow; here,
Tally, stop him: what! will nobody stop him? Then begar, we never shall
invade England, and all our schemes are frustrated.’ On the coast of
Zealand a Jack Tar is thus explaining to a native: ‘Hold your jaw; You
know as how you used to rob our forefathers, you lubber, and so you
wanted to assist that French Monkey to do it again, but it would not

Ansell published (October 21, 1807) ‘Malignant Aspects looking with
envy on John Bull and his Satellites, or, a New Planetary System.’ In
a centre medallion sits John Bull, happily smoking, and with a jug of
good October by his side. He is surrounded by the British navy, and a
halo of glory. Rushing towards him is ‘A Corsican Comet Frenchified,’
and chained to him is ‘A Russian bear with two heads, an appendage
to the Comet.’ There is a ‘Danish Mouse,’ an ‘Italian Greyhound,’ an
‘American Torpedo,’ a ‘Swiss Cheese,’ a ‘Spanish Puff,’ a ‘Dutch frog,’
besides many ‘minor Constellations with malignant aspects.’



On October 18 or 19 Junot entered Portugal, and then it was that John
Bull began to fear for his stock of port wine. This is very amusingly
put in a picture: ‘In Port, and Out of Port, or news from Portugal,’
which is the title of a caricature by Woodward (November 10, 1807),
and it represents Bonaparte seated on a pipe of ‘Genuine Old Port.’
With folded arms he thus speaks: ‘Now Master Jean Bull--more news
for you. You’ll soon be out of Port.’ A miserable-looking ‘Portugee’
approaches John Bull, with cap in hand, saying: ‘I be, d’ye see, de
poor Portuguese. Vat he mean be de Port Wine; which he will be glad to
change for your bag of guineas dere--begar--but dat is mine--between
ourselves.’ John Bull, who is sitting down, smoking, with a jug of ale
and a huge bagful of guineas by his side, replies: ‘D--n him, and his
_Port_ too--I am snug in _Port_, and while I have the port holes of my
wooden walls, and a glass of home brew’d ale, his conquests shall never
trouble me.’

Napoleon, in a decree dated from Hamburg, November 10, and also in
another dated Milan, December 27, again declared England in a state of
blockade, and he made all under his sway to cease all connection with
that country, as far as commercial matters were concerned; and this is
how the caricaturist met it:--

‘Blockade against Blockade, or John Bull a Match for Boney’ (Ansell,
November 1807), shows the different sides of a ‘Wall of Blockade.’ John
Bull is well victualled, and has a fine surloin of beef, and a full
tankard, &c.; and he says: ‘Now Master Boney, we shall see which will
hold out the longest, my wall against yours. Aye, aye, I can see you. I
have left a peep hole. I believe you will soon be glad to change your
Soup Maigre for my Roast beef.’ Boney, with only a basin of Soup Maigre
before him, looks very disconsolate: ‘Who could have thought that he
would build a wall also--I really think I had better have left him
alone--Some how I don’t relish this Soup Maigre.’

‘The Continental Dockyard,’ by Woodward (November 27, 1807), shows a
very tumbledown erection, called ‘The Gallic Storehouse for English
Shipping,’ but it contains none. It only holds the ‘Yaw Mynheer,’
the ‘Don Diego,’ the ‘Swede,’ the ‘Dane,’ and the ‘Napoleon,’ on
which a number of shipwrights are engaged, being driven to their
task by Napoleon, with drawn sword. He thus addresses the master
shipwright: ‘Begar you must work like de Diable, ve must annihilate
dis John Bull.’ The unlucky foreman replies: ‘Please you, my Grand
Empereur, ’tis no use vatever. As fast as ve do build dem, he vas
clap dem in his storehouse over de way.’ Accordingly, we see in
‘John Bull’s Storehouse’ a large collection of captured vessels from
the Armada--‘Portobello,’ ‘Camperdown,’ ‘St. Vincent,’ ‘Nile,’ and
‘Trafalgar.’ John Bull and a number of sailors enjoy this cheering
sight. Says he to them: ‘I say my lads, if he goes on this way we shall
be overstocked.’ And a sailor remarks: ‘What a deal of pains some
people take for nothing.’

I. Cruikshank (December 20, 1807) gives us ‘The Bear, the Monkey, the
Turkey, and the Bull, or the true cause of the Russian war.’ Bonaparte,
as the French Monkey, is leading the Russian Bear by a collar and
chain, and thus addresses him: ‘The case is this, if you will make war
against that overgrown Bull over the way, you shall have a slice of
that fine Turkey! and the Eastern Star.’ The Turkey is represented as
saying: ‘I wish I was well out of their clutches, but I am afraid they
will have me at last.’ The _Eastern Star_ appears on the horizon, and
represents the Indies. A Bull, on the opposite coast, is in a menacing
attitude, and bellows forth: ‘You had better beware, for, remember the
old adage--When you play with a Bull, take care of his horns.’

‘John Bull refreshing the Bear’s Memory’ is by I. Cruikshank (December
20, 1807), and shows the former worthy opening an enormous volume, his
journal, and thus addressing a crowned bear, who has a collar round his
neck inscribed ‘This bear belongs to Napoleon,’ and who regards the
book through an enormous pair of spectacles. ‘So you say, Master Bruin,
that my visit to Denmark has no parallel in History--do be so good as
to turn your spectacles to this page, and refresh your memory.’ And he
points to a page of his journal, in which is written: ‘The Great, the
Magnanimous, Catherine of Russia seized upon one third of the Kingdom
of Poland, and kept it to herself. These peaceful Danes seized on the
City of Hamburgh.’

On January 1, 1808, I. Cruikshank published ‘Boney stark mad, or more
Ships, Colonies, and Commerce.’ It shows the fleet in the Tagus,
and the British Admiral (Sir Sidney Smith) calling out through his
speaking-trumpet, ‘Bon jour, Monsieur, if you would like a trip to
the Brazils, I’ll conduct you there with a great deal of pleasure;
perhaps you would like a taste of Madeira by the way.’ This is to
Talleyrand, on whom Bonaparte is venting his rage, kicking him, and
tearing off his wig, saying: ‘Stop them, stop them. Murder, fire!
Why did you not make more haste, you hopping rascal? now, all my
hopes are blasted, my revenge disappointed, and--I’ll glut it on

The explanation of this caricature is, that as the French army was
marching direct to Lisbon, the whole of the Portuguese Royal family
embarked for the Brazils, on November 29, under convoy of a British

‘Delicious Dreams! Castles in the Air! Glorious Prospects! vide an
Afternoon Nap after the Fatigues of an Official Dinner,’ is by Gillray
(April 10, 1808), and shows the Cabinet asleep, a punch-bowl on the
table, and full and empty bottles all around. They are so quiet that
the mice are licking the Treasury plates. Behind Castlereagh’s chair
is a cat (Catalani). Mr. Perceval sleeps with his arms on the table;
the Duke of Portland in the chairman’s seat; Lord Liverpool with his
back to the table; Canning, negligently lolling back in his chair, uses
Lord Melville, who is under the table, as a footstool. The delicious
dream they see has for its background the Tower of London, before which
passes Britannia seated on a triumphal car, fashioned somewhat like a
ship, and drawn by a bull; and, behind the car, chained to it, come,
first, Bonaparte, the Russian Bear, Prussia, Austria, and Spain.


‘The Corsican Tiger at Bay’ (Rowlandson, July 8, 1808) shows Napoleon
as a Tiger (or rather, as the artist has depicted him, a leopard), with
his fore-feet on four _Royal Greyhounds_, whilst a pack of _Patriotic
Greyhounds_ are rushing to attack him. John Bull, standing on the white
cliffs of Albion, presents his gun at him, singing the nursery rhyme--

  ‘There was a little man,
  And he had a little gun,
  And his bullets were made of lead----

D--me, but we’ll manage him amongst us.’ The _Russian Bear_ and
_Austrian Eagle_ are chained together; but Austria thus proposes: ‘Now,
Brother Bruin, is the time to break our chains.’ The Dutch frog, too,
joins in the chorus: ‘It will be my turn to have a slap at him next.’


‘Boney Bothered, or an unexpected meeting’ (Ansell, July 9, 1808).
This shows Boney having gone right through the world, and, coming out
on the other side, planting his foot on the East Indies, at Bengal;
but he is utterly astonished to find John Bull there also, armed with
his redoubtable oaken cudgel. ‘Begar,’ says he, ‘Monsieur Jean Bull
again! Vat! you know I was come here?’ To which John Bull, from whose
pocket peeps a bundle of _Secret Intelligence_, replies, ‘To be sure I
did--for all your humbug deceptions. I smoked[16] your intentions, and
have brought my Oak Twig with me, so now you may go back again.’

We now come to a period of our history which is interesting to all of
us--the Peninsular War. Napoleon had turned his attention to Spain,
and the Spanish king had abdicated, and been sent to Fontainebleau,
with ample allowances. Joseph Bonaparte had been chosen king of Spain,
and Murat had his kingdom of Naples. But the Spanish nation did not
acquiesce in these arrangements. They broke into open revolt, the
English helping them with arms and money, and, on June 6, the Supreme
Junta formally declared war against Napoleon. This much is necessary to
explain the following caricature:--


Gillray (July 11, 1808) drew ‘The Spanish Bull fight, or the Corsican
Matador in danger,’ and kindly tells us that ‘The Spanish Bull is so
remarkable for Spirit, that, unless the Matador strikes him dead at
the first blow, the Bull is sure to destroy him.’ In the _Theatre
Royale de l’Europe_ sits George the Third, a trident in one hand, his
spy-glass in the other, keenly watching the exciting fight, as also are
the delighted sovereigns of Europe, the Pope, the Sultan of Turkey,
and the Dey of Algiers. The Spanish Bull has broken the Corsican chain
and collar which bound him, and, trampling on his king, has gored and
tossed the Matador, Napoleon, whose sword is broken in an ineffectual
attempt to despatch the animal. On the ground are three wounded
bulls--Prussian, Dutch, and Danish--bellowing for help.

Woodward gives us a capital caricature in ‘The Corsican Spider in
his web’ (July 12, 1808). Napoleon is there represented as a bloated
spider, ‘Unbounded ambition,’ and he is just swallowing a Spanish fly.
There are plenty of flies in his web--Austrian, Dutch, Portuguese,
Hanoverian, Etrurian, Prussian, Hamburg, Italian, Venetian, and small
flies innumerable. The Pope fly is just being entangled, and says, ‘I
am afraid I shall be dragg’d in.’ ‘The Russian Fly’ has touched the
fatal web, and exclaims, ‘I declare I was half in the web before I made
the discovery.’ In fact, the only two that are as yet free from the
baneful mesh is the Turkish fly, who thinks, ‘I am afraid it will be my
turn next,’ and the British fly, who, well and hearty, calls out, ‘Ay,
you may look, master Spider, but I am not to be caught in your web.’

To understand the next caricature, which, though dated July 27, must
have been published somewhat later, we must note that Joseph Bonaparte
entered Madrid, in state, on July 20, but, ominously, without any
welcome from the _people_: although money was scattered broadcast, none
but the French picked it up. He knew little of what was going on--how
Moncey had been obliged to raise the siege of Valencia, and that Dupont
had surrendered at Baylen. This latter piece of news he did not receive
till the 26th or 27th of July; when he learned also that Castaños,
with constantly increasing forces, was marching towards Madrid, he left
that city for Vittoria.

A broadside caricature (artist unknown, July 27, 1808) shows Joseph
leaving Madrid, his crown falling off, heading his troops, who are
carrying off heaps of treasure. It is headed ‘Burglary and Robbery!!!
Whereas on the night of the 20th of July last, a numerous gang of
French Banditti entered the City of Madrid, and burglariously broke
into the Royal Palace, National Bank, and most of the Churches thereof,
murdering all who opposed them in their infamous proceedings.

‘The said banditti remained in Madrid until the 27th of the said month,
and then suddenly departed, laden with immense booty, having stolen
from thence several waggon-loads of plate, and every portable article
of value, taking the road to France; all patriotic Spaniards are hereby
requested to be aiding, and assisting, in the apprehension of all, or
any, of the said robbers; and, whoever apprehends all, or any, of them,
shall receive the thanks, and blessings, of every well-disposed person
in Europe.

‘The said Banditti were headed by _Joe Nap_, a ferocious ruffian of
the following description:--He is about five feet seven inches high,
of a meagre, squalid aspect, saffron-coloured complexion. He was,
when he escaped, habited in a _royal robe_, which he is known to have
stolen from the King’s Wardrobe at Naples. He is a brother of the
_noted thief_ who has committed numberless robberies all over Europe,
_murdered millions of the human race_, and who was latterly at Bayonne,
where it is supposed he tarried, for the purpose of _receiving the
stolen goods_ which his brother was to bring from Spain.’

The war, in aid of Spain, against France, was now taken up in earnest,
and Sir Arthur Wellesley was sent to Spain with a large body of troops,
whilst reinforcements were to come from other quarters.

Almost one of the last of Gillray’s political caricatures, and a
very good one it is, is ‘Apotheosis of the Corsican Phœnix’ (August
2, 1808). It has an imaginary quotation from a supposed ‘New Spanish
Encyclopædia, edit. 1808. When the Phœnix is tired of Life, he builds
a Nest upon the mountains, and setting it on Fire by the wafting of
his own Wings, he perishes Himself in the Flames! and from the smoke
of his Ashes arises a new _Phœnix_ to illumine the world!!!’ This very
graphic etching shows, on the summit of the Pyrenees, a globe, which is
the nest of the Phœnix--Napoleon, with orb and sceptre, but, his crown
falling off, he has fanned all Europe into a blaze with his wings.
Around his neck is a ‘cordon d’honneur’ of daggers, and, amid the smoke
which rises from the pyre, is seen a dove with olive branch, having on
its wings ‘Peace on earth.’

I. Cruikshank still kept up the idea of _Tiddy-Doll_ in ‘The Oven on
Fire--or Boney’s last Batch entirely spoiled!!!’ (August 24, 1808.) He
is on his knees, with arms outspread in consternation, for, in putting
Dupont, on a ‘peel,’ into the oven--‘Spain and Portugal’--flames burst
out, labelled Asturian Legions, Army of Portugal, Biscay, Catalonian
Army, Army of Galicia, Andalusian Army, Army of New and Old Castille,
British Army and Fleet, Estramadurean Army, Leon, Army of Valencia,
Murcia, and Army of Granada; whilst in the centre of the flames is
the legend ‘A people United can never be conquered.’ Poor Dupont
exclaims, ‘Oh Nap, Nap! what is this? Instead of a King, you’ve only
made me a Dup(e)ont.’ Bonaparte himself cries out, ‘Zounds, I shall
be overwhelmed with this Patriotic Blaze. I did not think there was a
single spark left, but I find there is more than all the Engines of
France can extinguish.’ Talleyrand, who stands by his kneading-trough,
which is labelled ‘State Prison,’ rests quiet, and says, ‘Aye
Aye, I told you that you would burn your fingers at that batch of
Ginger-bread--but I have nothing to do with it. I am only a _Jailor_,
so there is an end to all my glory.’

We have seen the European monarchs sitting down to a game of quadrille.
Ansell (August 1808) gives us its conclusion. Spain has suddenly
arisen, and, upsetting the table, seizes Napoleon by the throat,
accusing him of foul play: ‘I tell you, you are a Scoundrel, and if
you do not restore my King, whom you have stolen from the other table,
and reinstate _Ponto_--by the honor of a Spanish Patriot, I will
strangle you.’ Trembling Bonaparte replies, ‘Don’t be so boisterous,
I only borrowed him, merely to make up the pack.’ The Pope is on the
floor, and the stolid Dutchman, with his hat in hand, says, ‘Donder
and Blixens, I be quite tired of de game. Yaw! Yaw! now is de time
for me to rise.’ At the other table all take a lively interest in the
squabble. George the Third rises from his seat and grasps his ‘heart
of oak’ stick, saying, ‘What! what! a dust, eh? so much the better.
Boney got the worst of the game. I must lend a hand.’ Russia, with hand
on sword, turns in his chair, remarking that ‘Now is the time to rub
off the rust of Tilsit.’ Prussia rises, exclaiming, ‘If I don’t take
advantage of the present opportunity, I shall indeed be a Prussian
Cake.’ Austria reaches his hat and sword from its peg on the wall,
and says, ‘Ah! Ah! the game has taken a different turn from what I
expected, I must not be idle.’

The next caricature relates to the bad success of Napoleon’s arms.
The raising the siege of Saragossa, the defeat of Vimiera, and the
Convention of Cintra, by which the French were to evacuate Portugal,
were not facts likely to be relished in France.

‘The Fox and the Grapes’ is another of Woodward’s (September 15, 1808),
where the Corsican Fox interviews the Gallic Cock. The former says,
‘Believe me, my dear Doodle doo, you would not like them--I found them
so _sour_ that I absolutely could not _touch_ them,’ in answer to the
Cock’s query--‘But my good friend, you promised to bring me home some
Spanish Grapes and Portugal plums: where are they?’

‘Prophecy explained’ is by Rowlandson (September 17, 1808), and the
text taken is from the Revelation of St. John (chap. xvii. verse 10):
‘And there are seven kings, five are fallen, and _one_ is, and the
other is not yet come, and when he cometh he must continue but a short
space.’ The five that are fallen are the Kings of Würtemberg, Saxony,
Holland, Bavaria, and Prussia, and these have fallen into a ‘Slough of
Disgrace and Ridicule.’ The ‘_one_ that is,’ it is needless to say,
is Napoleon; and the ‘one that continued but a short space,’ is King
Joseph, who, having been chased beyond the Pyrenees, has his crown
snatched from him. There are many other caricatures on this subject
of the flight of Joseph, but, although interesting, they hardly come
within the scope of _personal_ satire on Napoleon.

Rowlandson gives us (September 20, 1808) ‘Napoleon the little in a Rage
with his great French Eagle!!’ Napoleon, with his sword drawn, and his
hands clenched, is in a terrible rage with his brother Joseph, who,
under the guise of a crowned eagle, is limping along with one leg in a
sling. Napoleon thus addresses him: ‘Confusion and Destruction--what
is this I see? Did I not command you not to return till you had spread
your Wing of Victory over the whole Spanish Nation?’ And the poor bird
meekly replies: ‘Aye, its fine talking Nap, but if you had been there,
you would not much have liked it--The Spanish Cormorants pursued me in
such a manner, that they not only disabled one of my legs, but set me
a moulting in such a terrible way that I wonder I had not lost every
feather; besides, it got so hot, I could not bear it any longer.’

There is a caricature (September 24, 1808) of ‘A hard passage, or Boney
playing Base on the Continent.’ He is here represented as playing on
the bass viol from the score of the ‘Conquest of Spain and Portugal.’
His task seems hard, and he exclaims: ‘Plague take it! I never met
with so difficult a _passage_ before. But, if I can once get over the
_Flats_, we shall do pretty well, for you see the _Key_ will then
change into _B_ sharp.’ A muzzled Russian bear is trying to play on the
French horn, and says: ‘Why that is _Natural_ enough, brother Boney,
though this _French horn_ of yours seems rather out of order.’




‘The Valley of the Shadow of Death’ is, as far as I know, the last
caricature of Gillray (September 24, 1808) in connection with
Napoleon--if, indeed, it can be called a caricature, for it is far
too serious in its conception. Napoleon’s situation at the moment is
here firmly grasped. He is surrounded by enemies. With notched sword
in hand, he leads the Russian bear. He is pursued by the German eagle
and the spirit of Charles XII. Above is the ‘Turkish New Moon Rising
in blood,’ the obscured portion of which is represented by ‘French
Influence,’ the bright crescent as ‘English Influence,’ and the whole
is dropping blood. A fiery comet, with a tiara as a nucleus (the Pope),
is darting thunderbolts of excommunication upon him; whilst Junot
and Dupont, shackled together at their necks, amidst clouds, seem to
warn him of his fate. Immediately in front of him is a _Portuguese
wolf_, which has broken its chain, a _Sicilian terrier_, and the _Leo
Britannicus_. Death also appears, lance in one hand, hour-glass in the
other, on a mule of ‘True Royal Spanish breed.’ In the Ditch of Styx
is disappearing ‘Rex Joseph,’ whose hands and crown alone appear above
water. Creeping upwards from the slime of the _Lethean Ditch_, is ‘The
Rhenish Confederation of starved Rats, crawling out of the Mud,’ also
‘Dutch Frogs spitting out their spite’; whilst the ‘American Rattle
Snake is shaking his tail,’ and the ‘Prussian scarecrow is attempting
to fly.’

Certainly ‘Nap and his Partner Joe’ is not one of Rowlandson’s happiest
efforts (September 29, 1808). Some Dons are kicking the brothers into
the gaping jaws of a devil, singing meanwhile, ‘So seeing we were
finely nick’d. Plump to the Devil we boldly kick’d. Both _Nap_ and his
Partner _Joe_.’


‘Nap and His fiends in their glory’ (October 1, 1808) shews him, his
brother Joseph, Death, and the Devil, carousing. Napoleon is rising
and giving a toast. ‘Come, gentlemen, here is success to Plunder and
Massacre.’ There is below a song to the tune of ‘Drops of Brandy.’


  These Spaniards are terrible rogues,
    They will not submit to my fetters;
  With patience so gracefully worn,
    Nay, sought for, by Nations their betters.
  But let us return to the Charge
    And no longer with lenity treat them.
  Once get them to lay down their arms,
    And I warrant, brave boys, we shall beat them.
                          Rum ti iddidy--iddidy
                          Rum ti iddidy--ido.


  Brother Boney, we’ll never despair,
    A trusty good friend I have found you.
  Kill, plunder, and burn and destroy,
    And deal desolation around you.
  Then gaily let’s push round the glass,
    We’ll sing and we’ll riot and revel,
  And I’m sure we shall have on our side
    Our very good friend, here, the Devil.
                                    Rum ti, &c.

          THE DEVIL.

  Believe me, friend Death, you are right.
    Although I’m an ugly old fellow,
  When mischief is getting afloat,
    O! then I am jolly and mellow.
  As soon as these Spaniards are crush’d,
    Again we’ll be merry and sing Sirs,
  And that we will quickly accomplish,
    And _Joey_ here, he shall be King, Sirs.
                                      Rum ti, &c.

          DON JOEY.

  Excuse me from lending my aid,
    You may jointly pursue them and spike them;
  But lately, I’ve seen them--and own,
    I speak the plain truth,--I don’t like them.
  They _Liberty_ cherish so dear,
    That they constantly make her their guide, O,
  Who pleases may make themselves King,
    But may I be d--d if I do.
                                Rum ti, &c.


‘Apollyon, the Devil’s Generalissimo, addressing his legions,’ a
portion of which is here reproduced, is by I. Cruikshank (October
7, 1808). His speech is as follows: ‘Legions of Death. After having
ravished, murdered, and plundered, on the banks of the Danube, and the
Vistula, I shall order you to march through France, without allowing
you a moment’s rest!! I have occasion for you--the hideous presence
of _Religion_, and _Loyalty_, contaminates the Continent of Spain,
and Portugal. Let your _aspect_ drive them away from thence; let us
carry our conquering Eagles to the gates of Heaven: _there also we
have an injury to avenge_--you have exceeded all modern murderers--you
have placed yourselves on a level with the most _ferocious
cannibals_--Eternal War, Robbery, and Plunder shall be the reward of
your Exertions, for I never can enjoy rest till the Sea is covered with
your Blood!!’ And the army rejoice, shouting: ‘Ha, Ha, more Blood!’

A rather clever broadside, artist unknown (October 1808), shows us
‘General Nap turned Methodist Preacher.’ Napoleon, in a black gown,
occupies the pulpit, having in his hand a musket with fixed bayonet, on
which is a windmill, and, in his wig, he has fixed a cross, tricoloured
flag, surmounted by a cap of liberty, and a crescent. In the vestry
hang a military uniform, an episcopal mitre, and chasuble, or cope--a
Turkish costume, a bottle of arsenic for the poor sick of Jaffa, a
musket labelled ‘Scarecrow,’ and a bloody dagger, which does duty as
the ‘Imperial Cross.’ A general acts as clerk, the organ pipes are
cannon, and the audience, when not military, is seated on drums. The
letterpress is as follows: ‘General Nap turned Methodist Preacher, a
new attempt to gull the credulous; dedicated to Mr. Whitbread. “_Dear
Sam, repeat my Words, but not my Actions._” “Dearly beloved brethren,
Honour, Country, liberty! this is the order of the day; far from us
all idea of conquest, bloodshed, and war. Religion and true Philosophy
must ever be our maxim. Liberty, a free Constitution, and no Taxes,
that is our cry. No Slave trade; humanity shudders at the very thought
of it!! The brave, the excellent, English detest it. Yea, we shall all
be happy. Commerce, Plenty, and all sorts of pretty things will be
our lot. Good Jacobins, rise and assert your rights. And you, brave
soldiers, the honour of France, Plunder and Blood shall once more be
your cry. Double pay and cities burnt will come down in showers upon
you. Yea! ye shall all be Generals, all be members of the Legion of
Honour! The Eagles will once more cover the world. Now is the time to
destroy Great Britain, that treacherous country which always seeks our
ruin. Honour and Victory will lead us.

‘“Dear Countrymen, without good faith there is no tie in this world.
Dear Jacobins, we all acknowledge no God, and nothing else. Let the
Altars be lighted up, and your organs play the Marseillois, that sacred
air, which fires every Frenchman’s breast. Yea, I swear by this holy
Cross I now hold in my hands, and in this sacred place, that you are
all free, and without restraint, that my intentions are pure, and that
I wish for nothing else but Peace, Plunder, and Liberty! Amen!!”’

‘Political Quacks, or the Erfurt Co-partnership commencing Business’
(artist unknown, November 1808) shows Napoleon, as a quack doctor, on
a stage with a muzzled bear (Russia), who is distributing handbills,
and says: ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I am proud to say, as well as my
muzzle will permit me, that I have a large share in the concern.’
Seated behind Napoleon are his different patients, whilst Death,
grinning through a curtain, calls out: ‘Walk up, walk up, kill or
cure.’ Napoleon himself, as the quack doctor, has in his hand one of
his famous cannon-ball pills, one of which ‘is a dose,’ and a trayful
of them is on the floor of the stage. They are named Naples, Egypt,
Lodi, Alps, Switzerland, &c.; and he declaims: ‘Ladies and Gentlemen,
depend upon it here is no deception. Observe the patients ranged behind
me. On my right, a Prussian Gentleman, who was much afflicted with a
complication of disorders, till I cured him by administering a few
leaden Boluses--next to him is an Austrian patient, entirely reliev’d
by my Austerlitz draught, next to him is a Spaniard, whose case is
rather doubtful--I won’t say much about it. The next is a Dutchman--he
was a little crack’d, but I have made him as lame as a frog--beyond
him is an old gentleman of the Popish persuasion, whom I cured with
one bottle of my Italian drops--there are many more in the background,
whom I have cured of various disorders, or have now in my care--but,
Ladies and Gentlemen, let me particularly draw your attention to the
great Russian bear, once a very fierce animal, but dumb like the rest
of his species, but after taking a dose of my Friedland Pills, and
an application of the Tilsit powder, he is able to converse like a
rational being!!!’ Talleyrand, who is on the stage, calls out: ‘Ah,
Master Bull, what, are you among the crowd? come now, you and your
Sweedish Friend had better step up into the Booth, and take a dose
or two of my Master’s pills.’ But John Bull surlily declines the
invitation with, ‘We’ll see you and your Master d--d first.’

This of course refers to the meeting of Napoleon and Alexander at
Erfurt, where, besides, were collected the Kings of Prussia, Saxony,
Bavaria, Würtemberg, and Westphalia, the Prince Primate, the Princes of
Anhalt, Coburg, Saxe Weimar, Darmstadt, Baden, Nassau, and Mecklenburg.
The two great potentates rivalled each other in their courtesies. But
solid business was also to be done; they did not meet simply to waste
their time in fêtes. Napoleon engaged not to meddle with Alexander’s
designs on Sweden and Turkey, and not to help the Poles. Alexander,
on his side, promised not to interfere in Spain, and to recognise the
Kings of Spain and Naples. And they wrote a joint letter to George the
Third, proposing a general peace, on the basis that each should keep
what he had. The English Government, however, asked that Spain and
Sweden should be parties; but this, not suiting the designs of the
Imperial thieves, the negotiations came to an end.

  Nap, with the Russian Emp’ror, now,
  Became quite free, we must allow;
  At Erfurth, the appointed spot,
  They met together, as I wot,
  And German kings and princes, too,
  Were present at this interview;
  Save Emp’ror Francis,[17] who, they say,
  Sent an apology that day.
  How many compliments were paid,
  How great the pomp that was display’d.
  Oh, nothing--nothing could be grander
  Than Bonaparte and Alexander!
  Alternately they dined together,
  And often rode out in fine weather;
  To be so jovial, gay, and free,
  Suited Napoleon to a T.
  Thro’ Alexander’s mediation
  With England, a negociation
  Was set a going, for the end
  Of leaving Spain without a friend.
  The British monarch, ever wise,
  Refus’d t’ abandon his allies,
  Still Spain by England was protected,
  And Boney’s terms with scorn rejected.

An unknown artist (November 19, 1808) gives ‘The Progress of the
Emperor Napoleon.’ At first he is represented as ‘A Ragged Headed
Corsican Peasant’; next, ‘Studying mischief at the Royal Academy at
Paris’; then ‘An Humble Ensign in a Republican Corps requesting a
situation in the British Army’; afterwards, ‘A determined Atheistical
Republican General, ordering his men to fire on the Parisians vollies
of grape shot.’ He then changes to ‘A Turk at Grand Cairo’; afterwards
he became ‘A runaway from Egypt’; then ‘A devout Catholic,’ and,
finally, ‘An Emperor on a throne of iniquities’: on which throne is
inscribed, ‘Murders--Duke d’Enghien, Prisoners at Jaffa, Palm, Capt.
Williams, Pichegru, Cahon, Toussaint, &c., &c. Robberies innumerable.’



In the year 1809 there are very few caricatures of Napoleon. After the
taking of Madrid, Sir John Moore thought it prudent to retreat, which
he did, and, after many difficulties, reached Corunna. The repulse
of the French there, although at the cost of Sir John Moore’s life,
enabled the troops to be embarked.

Napoleon had but little rest, for in March the Austrians again took
up arms against him, to which he replied by victoriously marching to
Vienna, which was bombarded before it capitulated. One incident in
this campaign was seized upon by the caricaturist. There had been much
fighting about Aspern and Essling, with pretty equal fortune, until the
destruction of a bridge, caused by a sudden rise of the Danube, which
brought down timber rafts, barges, &c., deprived Napoleon of all the
advantage he had gained, and compelled him to retreat to the island of

There is a caricature by Rowlandson (June 12, 1809) of ‘Boney’s Broken
Bridge.’ An aged general, cocked-hat in hand, is thus addressing
Napoleon: ‘With all due deference to your little Majesty--It was the
Austrian Fire-boats that destroyed the Bridge.’ Napoleon, however,
turns on him savagely, and, pointing to the broken bridge, says, ‘Ah!
who is it that dares contradict me, I say it was some floating timber,
and the high swell of the river that caused the Shocking Accident.’
The Austrian army, on the opposite bank, are singing a paraphrase of
‘London bridge is broken down’:--

  Boney’s Bridge is broken down,
    Dance over the Lady Lea--
  Boney’s Bridge is broken down,
    By an Arch Duke--ee.[18]

Ansell gives his version of this event, shewing the Austrian Archduke,
pickaxe in hand, having destroyed the bridge, and, pointing to some
ducks and geese, he sings:--

  The Ducks and the Geese with ease swim over,
                    Fal de rol de rido, Fal de rol de rido.
  The Ducks and the Geese with ease swim over,
                    Fal de rol de rido, Fal de rol de rido.

But Napoleon, dancing with rage, on the other side, yells out, ‘You
Rascal you! How dare you break down my Bridge, If I knew how to get
over, this invincible arm should make you repent your rashness.’ In the
background an officer calls out to the army, ‘Invincible Army go back,
the bridge is broke down and we should not be able to run away.’

It was in this retreat that Lannes was killed--but it was avenged at
Wagram, a battle that so crippled the Austrians that they had to ask an
armistice, which afterwards led to a peace between the rival nations.

  It seems he wanted satisfaction,
  So Wagram was the scene of action.
  By some, however, ’tis believ’d,
  The Emp’ror Francis was deceiv’d,
  That Boney had, in his caprice,
  Made secret overtures for peace,
  And a connubial match propos’d
  With which the Cabinet had clos’d;
  They having been assured, that by it
  They should be peaceable and quiet.
  And that great Bonaparte might seem
  A victor worthy of esteem,
  Unknown to Francis they acceded,
  To such a battle as he needed;
  So that the battle of Wagram,
  They say was nothing but a sham--
  In other words,--tho’ low, but certain,
  ‘’Twas all my eye and Betty Martin.’
  But if a sham, as it is said,
  The farce was admirably played,
  For twenty thousand men each lost,
  So that they acted to their cost;
  But, be ’t a real one, or a mock,
  They fought both days till six o’clock;
  Nap to the vict’ry laid claim,
  And saved the credit of his name.
  Hostilities began to cease,
  It seems both parties thought of peace.

Sauler (August 1809) shews us ‘The rising Sun, or a view of the
Continent.’ This rising sun is inscribed ‘Spain and Portugal,’ and
gives great uneasiness to Napoleon, who says, ‘The rising sun has
set me upon thorns.’ He is employed in rocking a cradle, in which
peacefully reposes a Russian bear, muzzled with ‘Boney’s Promises.’
Behind is Sweden, who brandishes his sword, calling to Russia to ‘Awake
thou Sluggard, ere the fatal blow is struck, and thou and thy execrable
ally sink into eternal oblivion.’ Holland is fast asleep, and leans
against Napoleon. Poland is represented by a shadow, and Denmark wears
a huge extinguisher on his head. Turkey is virtually dead, on the
ground; but Austria is springing into activity, exclaiming, ‘Tyrant,
I defy thee and thy Cursed Crew.’ Prussia is depicted as a lunatic,
with straws in his hair, wearing a strait-waistcoat, and, with a very
vacuous expression of countenance, is singing, ‘Fiddle diddle dee,
Fiddle diddle dee, The Mouse has married the humble bee--and I am
Emperor of the Moon.’ Underneath are the following lines:--

      Just as the Rising Sun dispels
  The gloom of night to bless us with new day,
      So genuine Patriotism expels
  Vindictive Tyrants from despotic Sway.
      Thus Spain, the source of patriotic worth
  (A Rising Sun of Freedom to the Earth),
  Invites the Captive Nations to forego
  The Yoke and crush their sanguinary foe.
      Why then, ye Nations, will ye not embrace
  The proffer’d Freedom smiling in your face?
  Why dilly-dally when to sink or rise
  Rests with yourselves--dare ye contemn the prize--
  Is Freedom nothing worth, that for her sake
  Ye dare not e’en _one_ gen’rous effort make?
  Alas! infatuated Monarchs see,
  What is, and what your Fate must _ever_ be.
      _Spain_ is a Sun arising to illume
  The threefold horrors of your future doom,
  While she on Freedom’s golden wings shall tow’r,
  The Arbitress of Continental pow’r.
      _Russia_’s a Bear amid impending woes,
  Rock’d by th’ insidious Tyrant to repose.
      _Sweden_’s a Warrior of distinguished worth,
  Sweden hath giv’n to many heroes birth.
      _Austria_’s a Phœnix rising renovated,
  Whose genial warmth with Spain, incorporated,
  Longer disdains to crouch at the fell shrines
  Of Usurpation, and the foulest crimes.

      _Prussia_, poor _Prussia_, with straightjacket on,
  And Crown of Straw, proves what delays have done.
      _Denmark_ too, half extinguish’d, shows,
  The fruits of leaguing with old England’s foes.
      And _Holland_, drowsy _Holland_, dreams
  Of aggrandizement, potent Kings and Queens.
      While _Poland_, a mere shadow in the rear
  (As proof of something _once_ existent there),
  Yields to the Yoke, nor dares its shackles break,
  Lest by so doing, she her _Freedom_ stake.
      Poor silly mortals, will ye ever bow
  To the dread Shrine of Tyranny and Woe;
  Or by co-operation overwhelm
  The Scourge of Nations, and resume the Helm?

One of the great events of this year, as regards Napoleon, was his
divorce from Josephine. That he loved her, as far as he could love any
woman, there is no doubt; but there were State reasons why he should
have another consort. His ambition could not be satisfied till he had
an heir male of his own. The dynasty he fondly hoped to found ought not
to descend to any of his brothers; and none but his own son could have
any hold upon the affection of the French nation.

  Nap oftentimes began to swear
  That he must get a son and heir--
  He, with affected sorrow, told
  His present lady was too old,
  He might as well have her grandmother,
  And therefore he must seek another;
  Yes, seek another,--so of course,
  He intimated a divorce--
  That with propriety, like Harry
  The Eighth, another he might marry.
  This was enforc’d by his mamma,
  And recommended by Murat.
  Yet at this very time, good lack!
  He had a violent attack,
  A kind of stupor he was in,
  Attended by his Josephine;
  And, as a certain author says,
  It lasted very near two days;
  On his recovery, he cried,
  ‘A son and heir I must provide;’
  Then giving Josephine a look,
  His head repeatedly he shook,
  He said--(he could refrain no longer)--
  ‘I wish, my dear, that you were younger,
  But you are old, and I despair
  Of ever getting now an heir.’
  While this he said, with doleful phiz,
  She told him that the fault was his;
  For several children she’d before,
  And hoped to have as many more.
  Now Josephine display’d her spirit,
  Of patriotism she made a merit:
  ‘If,’ she observ’d, ‘our separation
  Will be of service to the nation,
  Then I agree, with all my heart,
  My dearest Emperor--to part--
  That you may seek another fair,
  And, if you can, provide an heir.’
  When kindly her consent she gave
  Nap scarcely knew how to behave;
  At Josephine awhile he star’d,
  He humm’d a bit, and then declar’d,
  For fifteen years to him she’d been
  All that was lovely and serene,
  And that no better for himself e’er
  Wou’d wish, but for his country’s welfare--
  Of course, for a successor’s sake,
  The sacrifice he needs must make.
  He found no fault, as it appears,
  But that she was advanc’d in years;
  To follies past he ne’er alluded,
  For no such sentiment intruded;
  ’Twas not for this he wish’d to sever,
  Her virtue he suspected never;
  On this occasion, Nap, ’tis said,
  A fine speech to the Senate made,
  Assuring them it was with pain,
  He a divorce strove to obtain;
  For still he Josephine regarded,
  Tho’ as a consort now discarded;
  But, notwithstanding, she should reign
  And be considered as a queen.
  Josephine, with an air divine,
  Declar’d the throne she would resign,
  And hop’d her Boney might, ere long,
  Meet with a lady fair and young,
  And in nine months procure a boy,
  To be his comfort and his joy.
    ’Twas on the 15th of December,[19]
  As the Parisians well remember,
  The parties in full court appear’d
  And by a large assembly cheer’d;
  A kind of form took place, of course,
  Which fully strengthened the divorce--
  The Senate sent a deputation,
  To ratify the separation,
  Which, that it might be ne’er repeal’d,
  Was, in their presence, sign’d and seal’d.
  Nap was a long time ere he sign’d--
  A proof of a perturbed mind;
  But some have thought, and so they might,
  ’Twas inability to write.
  Soon as the pen the lady took,
  Her hand for several minutes shook,
  A proof of sorrow and regret,
  Tho’ she did not appear to fret.
  And ’twas the opinion of the sage
  That it proceeded from old age.
  When thus divorc’d--a parting kiss
  Was confirmation of their bliss.’

How Josephine herself felt on this subject is pathetically told by
Madame Junot, with an excessively womanly grace:--

‘I had an interview with the Empress at Malmaison: I went thither to
breakfast by invitation, accompanied by my eldest daughter Josephine,
to whom she was much attached.... “And Madame Mère, have you seen
her since your return?” “Certainly, Madame, I have already been in
waiting.” Upon this, the Empress drew closer to me--she was already
very near--and, taking both my hands, said, in a tone of grief which is
still present to my mind after an interval of four-and-twenty years:
“Madame Junot, I entreat you to tell me all you have heard relating to
me. I ask it as an especial favour--you know they all desire to ruin
me, my Hortense, and my Eugène. Madame Junot, I again entreat, as a
favour, that you will tell me all you know!”

‘She spoke with the greatest anxiety; her lips trembled, and her hands
were damp and cold. In point of fact she was right, for there could
be no more direct means of knowing what was passing, relative to her,
than by learning what was said in the house of Madame Mère. But it
was indiscreet, perhaps, to ask these questions of me. In the first
place, I should not have repeated the most insignificant sentence
which I had heard in Madame’s drawing-room; in the second, I was quite
at ease upon the subject; for, since my return, I had not heard the
word _divorce_ uttered by Madame, or the princesses. The strength of
mind of the unfortunate wife failed totally on hearing the dreadful
word pronounced; she leant upon my arm and wept bitterly. “Madame
Junot,” she said, “remember what I say to you this day, here, in this
hothouse--this place which is now a paradise, but which may soon become
a desert to me--remember that this separation will be my death, and it
is they who have killed me?”

‘She sobbed. My little Josephine, running to her, pulled her by the
shawl to shew her some flowers she had plucked, for the Empress was so
fond of her, as even to permit her to gather flowers in her greenhouse.
She took her in her arms, and pressed her to her bosom, with an almost
convulsive emotion. The child appeared frightened; but, presently,
raising her head, and shaking the forest of light silken curls which
clustered round her face, she fixed her large blue eyes upon the
agitated countenance of her godmother, and said: “I do not like you to
cry.” The Empress again embraced her tenderly, and setting her down,
said to me: “You can have little idea how much I have suffered when
any of you has brought a child to me! Heaven knows, I am not envious,
but in this one case I have felt as if a deadly poison were creeping
through my veins, when I have looked upon the fresh and rosy cheek of
a beautiful child, the joy of its mother, but, above all, the hope of
its father! And I! struck with barrenness, shall be driven in disgrace
from the bed of him who has given me a crown! Yet God is witness that I
love him more than my life, and much more than that throne, that crown,
which he has given me!”

‘The Empress may have appeared more beautiful, but never more
attractive, than at that moment. If Napoleon had seen her then, surely
he could never have divorced her.’

We have a most touching account in ‘Memes’s Memoirs of the Empress
Josephine:’ ‘The divorce was, unquestionably, a melancholy reverse of
fortune for Josephine, which she felt most severely, but she bore it
with magnanimity. The particulars of the interview between her and the
Emperor are very affecting. When Napoleon mentioned the necessity of a
Divorce, he approached Josephine, gazed on her for a while, and then
pronounced the following words: “Josephine, my excellent Josephine,
thou knowest if I have loved thee! To thee, to thee alone do I owe
the only moments of happiness which I have enjoyed in this world.
Josephine! my destiny overmasters my will. My dearest affections must
be silent before the interests of France.” “Say no more,” she replied,
“I was prepared for this; but the blow is not less mortal!”

‘Josephine, on hearing from his own lips the determination of the
Emperor, fainted, and was carried to her chamber. At length the fatal
day arrived.

‘On December 15, 1809, the Imperial Council of State was convened, and,
for the first time, officially informed of the intended separation.
On the morrow, the whole of the family assembled in the grand salon
at the Tuileries. All were in Court costume. Napoleon’s was the only
countenance which betrayed emotion, but ill concealed by the drooping
plumes of his hat of ceremony. He stood motionless as a statue, his
arms crossed upon his breast: the members of his family were seated
around, showing in their expression less of sympathy with so painful
a scene, than of satisfaction, that one was to be removed, who had so
long held influence, gently exerted as it had been, over their brother.
In the centre of the apartment was placed an armchair, and, before
it, a small table with a writing apparatus of gold. All eyes were
directed to that spot, when a door opened, and Josephine, pale but calm
appeared, leaning on the arm of her daughter, whose fast falling tears
shewed that she had not attained the resignation of her mother. Both
were dressed in the simplest manner. Josephine’s dress of white muslin
exhibited not a single ornament. She moved slowly, and with wonted
grace, to the seat provided for her, and there listened to the reading
of the act of separation. Behind her chair stood Hortense, whose sobs
were audible, and a little farther on, towards Napoleon, Eugène,
trembling as if incapable of supporting himself. Josephine heard in
composure the words that placed an eternal barrier between her and
greatness, between her and the object of her affection. This painful
duty over, the Empress appeared to acquire a degree of resolution from
the very effort to resign with dignity the realities of title for ever.
Pressing, for an instant, the handkerchief to her eyes, she rose, and,
with a voice which, but for a slight tremor, might have been called
firm, pronounced the oath of acceptance; then, sitting down, she took
the pen from the hand of the Comte Regnault St. Jean d’Angely, and
signed it. The mother and daughter now left the salon, followed by
Eugène, who appeared to suffer most severely of the three.

‘The sad incidents of the day had not yet been exhausted. Josephine
had remained unseen, sorrowing in her chamber, till Napoleon’s usual
hour of retiring to rest. He had just placed himself in bed, silent
and melancholy, when suddenly the private door opened, and the Empress
appeared, her hair in disorder, and her face swollen with weeping.
Advancing with a tottering step, she stood, as if irresolute, near the
bed, clasped her hands, and burst into an agony of tears. Delicacy
seemed at first to have arrested her progress, but, forgetting
everything in the fulness of her grief, she threw herself on the bed,
clasped her husband’s neck, and sobbed as if her heart would break.
Napoleon also wept while he endeavoured to console her, and they
remained a few minutes locked in each other’s arms, silently mingling
their tears, until the Emperor, perceiving Constant[20] in the room,
dismissed him to the ante-chamber.

‘After an interview of about an hour, Josephine parted, for ever, from
the man whom she so long and so tenderly loved. On seeing the Empress
retire, which she did in tears, the attendant entered to remove the
lights, and found the chamber silent as death, and Napoleon sunk
among the bed-clothes, so as to be invisible. Next morning he still
showed the marks of suffering. At eleven, Josephine was to bid adieu
to the Tuileries, never to enter the palace more. The whole household
assembled on the stairs, in order to obtain a last look of a mistress
whom they loved, and who carried with her into exile the hearts of all
who had enjoyed the happiness of access to her presence. Josephine
was veiled from head to foot, and, entering a close carriage with six
horses, drove rapidly away, without casting one look backward on the
scene of past greatness and departed happiness.’

The only drawback to Memes’s narrative is, that it does not exactly
tally with the ‘Register of the Conservative Senate,’ of Saturday,
December 6, 1809, extracts from which are given in the ‘Times’ of
December 27, 1809. In that document Napoleon makes a speech, a portion
of which is as follows:--

‘The politics of my monarchy, the interest, and the wants, of my
people, which have constantly guided all my actions, require that,
after me, I should leave to children, inheritors of my love for my
people, that throne on which Providence has placed me. Notwithstanding,
for several years past, I have lost the hope of having children by my
well-beloved consort, the Empress Josephine. This it is which induces
me to sacrifice the sweetest affections of my heart; to attend to
nothing but the good of the State, and to wish the dissolution of my

‘Arrived at the age of forty years, I may indulge the hope of living
long enough to educate, in my views and sentiments, the children
which it may please Providence to give me: God knows how much such
a resolution has cost my heart; but there is no sacrifice beyond my
courage, that I will not make, when it is proved to me to be necessary
to the welfare of France. I should add, that far from ever having had
reason to complain, I have only had to be satisfied with the attachment
and affection of my well-beloved consort. She has adorned fifteen years
of my life, the remembrance of which will ever remain engraven on my
heart. She was crowned by my hand. I wish she should preserve the rank
and title of Empress; but, above all, that she should never doubt my
sentiments, and that she should ever regard me as her best and dearest

English opinion on this act of Napoleon’s may be gathered from the
‘Times’ of December 28, which thus comments upon it:--

‘While the affair of the dissolution of Buonaparte’s marriage was
transacting in the Senate, he retired to Trianon. The repudiated
Josephine withdrew, at the same time, to Malmaison, probably never
to behold him again; or, at most, only for a few minutes, during a
visit of cold ceremony. Whatever errors there might have been in the
early conduct of this woman, were in a great measure redeemed by her
behaviour during her slippery, and precarious, exaltation. She has
often stepped in between the rage of the tyrant to whom she was united,
and the victim he had marked for destruction, and by her tears, and
entreaties, softened him into pity and pardon. Such instances of
feeling, and humanity, had wrought a powerful impression in her favour
among the inhabitants of Paris, amongst whom, her unmerited disgrace
has probably occasioned no less grief than astonishment. The temporary
seclusion to which Buonaparte appears to have condemned himself,
may possibly be for the purpose of preventing any opportunity of an
explosion of public sentiment on this subject. We think, on the whole,
that Josephine has been hardly treated. The reasons assigned for her
repudiation have existed in equal force for many years; and the act
itself might have been carried into effect, with less outrage to her
feelings, at a former period.’



In closing the record of this year, I cannot omit to mention the fact
of the failures of the expeditions to Spain, Portugal, and Holland. The
latter, or Walcheren expedition, as it was called, was just returning
in a woful plight, fever having thoroughly done its work among the
troops; and, in December, the City of London, through the Lord Mayor,
memorialised the King on the subject of this latter expedition, and
prayed ‘your Majesty will direct enquiry to be forthwith instituted, in
order to ascertain the causes which have occasioned it.’

‘To which Address and Petition his Majesty was graciously pleased to
return the following answer:--

‘“I thank you for your expressions of duty and attachment to me and to
my Family.

‘“The recent Expedition to the Scheldt was directed to several objects
of great importance in the interest of my Allies, and to the security
of my dominions.

‘“I regret that, of these objects, a part only has been accomplished.
I have not judged it necessary to direct any Military Inquiry into the
conduct of my Commanders by sea or land, in this conjoint service.

‘“It will be for my Parliament, in their wisdom, to ask for such
information, or to take such measures upon this subject as they shall
judge most conducive to the public good.”’

This was the Royal, or Ministerial, snubbing to those men who were then
giving of their blood, and treasure, without stint, and without grumble.

The ‘Times’ of December 21, 1809, is very wroth about it, and the
sturdy citizens answered it by having a Common Hall on January 9,
1810, at which it was resolved that instructions be given to the
representatives of the City, to move or support an address to his
Majesty, praying an inquiry into the cause of the failures of the late
expeditions to Spain, Portugal, and Holland; they also voted a similar
address themselves; and asserted a right to deliver their addresses or
petitions to the King upon his throne. But they got no redress.

The year 1810 is mostly noteworthy to the caricaturist by Napoleon’s
second marriage. On February 1, 1810, a grand council was called
together to help the Emperor in selecting another empress. But Napoleon
had not been wasting his time since his divorce from Josephine. He had
sent to the Emperor Alexander, proposing to marry his sister, the Grand
Duchess Anna Paulovna; but the Russian Emperor, although he professed
great friendship for Napoleon, hardly cared about a closer alliance
with him, and the proposal was declined.

The Council, in their wisdom, thought of an Austrian princess, and
a proposal was made to the Austrian ambassador for the hand of the
Arch-Duchess Maria Louisa, the result of which should have been, if
there is any truth in the old rhyme,

  Happy’s the wooing
  That’s not long a-doing,

the perfection of bliss to the principal parties concerned. It was all
settled in four-and-twenty hours, and Berthier, as Napoleon’s proxy,
married Maria Louisa at Vienna on March 11, and, two days afterwards,
she started on her journey to France.

We are indebted to Madame Junot for an insight into her innocent and
childlike character: ‘At length the day of departure arrived. The
young Empress bade farewell to all the members of her family, and then
retired to her apartment, where etiquette required that she should
wait till Berthier came to conduct her to her carriage. When Berthier
entered the cabinet, he found her bathed in tears. With a voice choked
with sobs, she apologised for appearing so childish: “But,” says she,
“my grief is excusable. See how I am surrounded here by a thousand
things that are dear to me. These are my sister’s drawings; that
tapestry was wrought by my mother; those paintings are by my uncle
Charles.” In this manner she went through the inventory of her cabinet,
and there was scarcely a thing, down to the carpet on the floor, which
was not the work of some beloved hand.

‘There were her singing birds, her parrot, and, above all, the object
which she seemed to value most, and most to regret--a little dog. It
was of course known at the Court of Vienna how greatly the Emperor
used to be annoyed by Josephine’s favourite pet dogs, with _Fortuné_
at their head. Therefore, Francis II., like a prudent father, took
care that his daughter should leave her pet dog at Vienna. Yet it was
a cruel separation, and the princess and her favourite parted with a
tender _duo_ of complaint.’

But the surprises in store for her on her journey soon made her forget
her dog and parrot. She was met at Braunau by Caroline Bonaparte, Queen
of Naples, and sister of the Emperor. At this place, on the frontier of
Austria and Bavaria (the latter of which was then part of the French
empire), a wooden building had been erected for the use of the French
and Austrian suites. Napoleon could play many parts, and he played the
_rôle_ of devoted lover to perfection. At Munich an officer met the new
Empress with a letter from her husband. At Strasburg a page was waiting
for her with another letter, some choice flowers, and some pheasants
shot by the imperial gun; and every morning brought a page with a
letter, which the young bride immediately answered.

Every detail of her progress had been settled with rigid ceremonial,
and at one place (Compiègne) it was appointed that he was to meet her,
when ‘the Empress should prepare to kneel, and the Emperor should raise
her, embrace, and seat her beside him.’ But the imperial bridegroom
was far too impatient for that. Accompanied by the King of Naples
(Murat), he left the palace privately, and pushed on to the village of
Courcelles, where he anxiously awaited her arrival. When the carriage
stopped, he ran towards it, opened the door himself, and jumped in
without any announcement, the bride being only advised of his advent a
moment before by the startled exclamation of the Queen of Spain: ‘It is
the Emperor!’

Two days afterwards they made their state entry into Paris, where
Napoleon, from a balcony at the Tuileries, presented his young bride to
the assembled multitude.

Once more to quote Madame Junot: ‘On returning from the balcony, he
said to her, “Well, Louise, I must give you some little reward for the
happiness you have conferred on me,” and, leading her into one of the
narrow corridors of the palace, lighted only by one lamp, he hurried on
with his beloved Empress, who exclaimed, “Where are we going?”--“Come,
Louise, are you afraid to follow me?” replied the Emperor, who now
pressed to his bosom, with much affectionate tenderness, his young

‘Suddenly they stopped at a closed door, within which they heard a
dog that was endeavouring to escape from the apparent prison. The
Emperor opened this private door, and desired Louise to enter. She
found herself in a room magnificently lighted; the glare of the lamps
prevented her for some moments from distinguishing any object. Imagine
her surprise when she found her favourite dog from Vienna was there to
greet her; the apartment was furnished with the same chairs, carpet,
the paintings of her sisters, her birds--in short, every object was
there, and placed in the same manner as she had left them on quitting
her paternal roof.

‘The Empress, in joy and gratitude, threw herself in Napoleon’s arms,
and the moment of a great victory would not have been to the conqueror
of the world so sweet as this instant of ecstasy was to the infatuated
heart of the adoring bridegroom. After a few minutes had been spent in
examining the apartment, the Emperor opened a small door; he beckoned
to Berthier, who entered. Napoleon then said, “Louise, it is to him you
are indebted for this unexpected joy: I desire you will embrace him,
as a just recompense.” Berthier took the hand of the Empress; but the
Emperor added, “No, no, you must kiss my old and faithful friend.”’

The civil marriage was celebrated on April 1 at St. Cloud, and the
religious marriage on the 2nd in the Chapel of the Louvre; Napoleon’s
uncle, Cardinal Fesch, officiating.

We have just read the real story of the wooing and home-coming; I will
not spoil it by repeating the caricaturist’s version, quoting only a
few lines:--

  Louisa off for Paris set,
  And by her anxious swain was met.
  To see the lady, what a throng!
  The road with flow’rs they strew’d along.
  No sooner Nap beheld her charms
  Than round the maid he threw his arms,
  And gave her a true lover’s kiss,
  As prelude to his greater bliss.

         *       *       *       *       *

  Oh what rejoicings and what fêtes!
  What hurly-burly in the streets!
  The marriage, as it was advised,
  Now publicly was solemnized;
  The first of April, as they say,
  Was chosen for the happy day,
  When children, in and out of school,
  Are trying to make each a fool.


This year is so unproductive of Napoleonic caricatures, that I can only
find one worth mentioning, and this is apropos of the marriage: it is
called ‘Three Weeks after Marriage, or the Great little Emperor playing
at Bo-peep,’ and is by Rowlandson (May 15, 1810). It shows the conjugal
relations of Napoleon and his Empress, as they were supposed to be. She
is in a violent rage, and, having knocked down Talleyrand, she hits him
over the head with a sceptre; he, meanwhile, making moan: ‘Begar she
will give us all de finishing stroke. I shall never rise again.’ She
has plucked off her crown, and is about to throw it at the Emperor, who
dodges behind an armchair, calling out, ‘Oh Tally, Tally, rise and
rally.’ She fiercely declaims, ‘By the head of Jove, I hate him worse
than Famine or Disease. Perish his Family; let inveterate Hate commence
between our Houses from this Moment, and, meeting, never let them
bloodless part.’ Somebody, probably one of the marshals, has got behind
the curtains for safety, calling out, ‘Marblue. Vat a _Crown Cracker_
she be.’

At the time of the marriage the English newspapers were much taken up
with Sir Francis Burdett, and consequently Napoleon’s marriage did not
receive the attention it otherwise might have claimed. In a notice of
the religious ceremony, however, the ‘Times’ breaks out with a little
bit of spite, ‘The Imperial Ruffian, and his spouse, again knelt at the
“_Ite, missa est_.”’

The only other great event during this year, connected with Napoleon,
was the abdication of the crown of Holland by his brother Louis, and
the absorption of his kingdom into the French empire.

The birth of the King of Rome (on March 20, 1811) at last gave Napoleon
the hope of founding a dynasty. He was very anxious about the welfare
of Maria Louisa, hardly bestowing a thought upon his son, until assured
of her safety.

‘As[21] soon as the King of Rome was born, the event was announced by
telegraph to all the principal towns of the empire. At four o’clock
the same afternoon, the marks of rejoicing in the provinces equalled
those in Paris. The Emperor’s couriers, pages, and officers, were
despatched to the different foreign Courts, with intelligence of the
happy event. The Senate of Italy, and the municipal bodies of Rome and
Milan, had immediate notice of it. The different fortresses received
orders to fire salutes; the seaports were enlivened by the display
of colours from the vessels; and everywhere the people voluntarily
illuminated their houses. Those who regard these popular demonstrations
as expressions of the secret sentiments of a people might have remarked
that in all the faubourgs, as well as the lowest and poorest quarters
of Paris, the houses were illuminated to the very uttermost stories.
A fête was got up on the occasion by the watermen of the Seine, which
was prolonged until a late hour of the night. Much of all this was not
ordered: it came spontaneously from the hearts of the people. That same
people, who, for thirty-five years previously, had experienced so many
emotions, had wept over so many reverses, and had rejoiced for so many
victories, still showed, by their enthusiasm on this occasion, that
they retained affections as warm and vivid as in the morning of their

‘The King of Rome was baptized on the very day of his birth (March
20, 1811). The ceremony was performed, at nine in the evening, in the
chapel of the Tuileries. The whole of the imperial family attended, and
the Emperor witnessed the ceremony with the deepest emotion. Napoleon
proceeded to the chapel, followed by the members of the household,
those of the Empress, of Madame Mère, the princesses, his sisters, and
of the kings, his brothers. He took his station under a canopy in the
centre of the chapel, having before him a stool to kneel on. A socle
of granite had been placed on a carpet of white velvet embroidered
with gold bees, and on the socle stood a gold vase destined for the
baptismal font. When the Emperor approached the font bearing the King
of Rome in his arms, the most profound silence pervaded. It was a
religious silence, unaccompanied by the parade which might have been
expected on such an occasion. This stillness formed a striking contrast
with the joyous acclamations of the people outside.’

The news was announced to the British public in the ‘Times’ of March
25; and in the ‘Morning Herald’ of March 26 is an amusing


    _On the French General_ Victor’s _Defeat before_ Cadiz.

  His VICTOR _vanquish’d_, and his Eagle taken,
  BONEY will stay at home to save his bacon;
  Sip Caudle with his wife, and for young _Nap_,
  Make with parental daddle, sugar’d pap;
  Content to see the Nurs’ry colours fly,
  By holding out his bantling’s clouts to dry.

Rowlandson caricatures the birth of the King of Rome (April 9, 1811)
in ‘Boney the Second, or the little Babboon created to devour French
Monkies.’ The young Napoleon, naked, with the exception of a cocked
hat, but with the cloven hoofs, and tail, of a devil, is being
presented on a cushion to his father by a very buxom nurse. The cushion
rests on a cradle, on which is inscribed ‘Devil’s Darling.’ Napoleon
is looking after the nursery arrangements, and is cooking a caudle of
‘French blood,’ which is to be drunk out of a ‘Bitter Cup.’ He turns
his face towards his little son, and exclaims: ‘Rejoice O ye Frenchmen,
the Fruits of my Labour has produced a little image of myself. I shall,
for the love I owe to your country, instill in my Noble Offspring the
same principles of Lying, Thieving, Treachery, Letchery, Murder, and
all other foul deeds for which I am now worshipped and adored.’ The
Pope is on his knees pronouncing a benediction, which, however, is of
rather doubtful character.

  The Owl shrieked at thy Birth, an evil Sight,[22]
  The Night Crow cry’d foreboding luckless time,
  Dogs howl’d, and hideous Tempests shook down Trees,
  The Raven rook’d her on the Chimney Top,
  And Chattering Pies in dismal discord sung.

Napoleon was very fond of his little boy, and the caricaturist
represents him in the nursery, thus--


  But in his babe he found relief,
  This was a cure for all his grief,
  For his delightful dulcet squall
  Wou’d not allow a tear to fall.
  What wondrous splendor was devised
  When the dear Infant was baptized;
  For Emperors, Kings, Queens, and Dukes
  Assembled with their smiling looks,
  Bestowing their congratulations,
  And making curious observations.
  With curiosity they eyed
  The King of Rome--the father’s pride,
  And some old gossips cried ‘Oh la!
  How he resembles his papa.’

Madame Junot gives some interesting details of Napoleon as a
father:--‘On my return to France, I found the Emperor much altered
in appearance. His features had acquired a paternal character. What
a beautiful child was the young King of Rome! How lovely he appeared
as he rode through the gardens of the Tuileries in his shell-shaped
_calèche_, drawn by two young deer, which had been trained by Franconi,
and which were given him by his aunt, the Queen of Naples. He resembled
one of those figures of Cupid which have been discovered in the ruins
of Herculaneum. One day I had been visiting the young King, the Emperor
was also there, and he was playing with the child--as he always played
with those he loved--that is to say, he was tormenting him. The Emperor
had been riding, and held in his hand a whip, which attracted the
child’s notice. He stretched out his little hand, and when he seized
the whip, burst into a fit of laughter, at the same time embracing
his father. “Is he not a fine boy, Madame Junot?” said the Emperor;
“you must confess that he is.” I could say so without flattery, for
he certainly was a lovely boy. “You were not at Paris,” continued the
Emperor, “when my son was born. It was on that day I learned how much
the Parisians love me.... What did the army say on the birth of the
child?” I told him the soldiers were enthusiastic during many days; he
had already heard so, but was happy to receive a confirmation of their
joy. He then pinched his son’s cheek and his nose; the child cried.
“Come, come, sir,” said the Emperor, “do you suppose you are never to
be thwarted, and do kings cry?”... He used to take the King of Rome
in his arms, and toss him up in the air. The child would then laugh,
until the tears stood in his eyes. Sometimes the Emperor would take him
before a looking-glass, and work his face into all sorts of grimaces;
and, if the child was frightened and shed tears, Napoleon would say:
“What, Sire, do you cry? A King, and cry? Shame, Shame!”

‘The hours at which the young King was taken to the Emperor were not
precisely fixed, nor could they be, but his visits were most frequently
at the time of _déjeûner_. On these occasions the Emperor would give
the child a little claret, by dipping his finger in the glass, and
making him suck it. Sometimes he would daub the young Prince’s face
with gravy. The child would laugh heartily at seeing his father as much
a child as he was himself, and only loved him the more for it. Children
invariably love those who play with them. I recollect that once when
Napoleon had daubed the young King’s face, the child was highly amused,
and asked the Emperor to do the same to _Maman Quiou_, for so he called
his governess, Madame de Montesquiou.’

Rowlandson’s idea of the royal infant is given in a caricature
(published April 14, 1811) called, ‘Nursing the Spawn of a Tyrant,
or Frenchmen Sick of the Brood.’[23] Maria Louisa is aghast at her
offspring, who, screaming, threatens her with a dagger. She thus pours
out her woes: ‘There’s no condition sure, so curst as mine! Day and
night to dandle such a dragon--the little angry cur snarls while it
feeds; see how the blood is settled in its scarecrow face; what brutal
mischief sits upon his brow. Rage and vengeance sparkle in his cheeks;
the very spawn and spit of its tyrant father. Nay, now I look again, he
is the very picture of his grandfather, _the Devil_!’ This must have
been pleasant for Napoleon to hear, which he evidently does, as he is
but partially concealed behind a curtain.

Some one (name unknown, August 20, 1811) has given us, ‘The Deputeys
apointed by the Legislative Body, doing Homage to the King of Rome in
the Nursery at St. Cloud.’ His _gouvernante_, Madame de Montesquiou,
presents him to the Deputies, who kneel and kiss him, saying: ‘Madam
Governess--not one of us can behold without a most lively interest,
that August Infant--on whom rest so many Destinies, and whose Age and
Charming Qualities inspire the most tender sentiments in the French
and surrounding Nations.’ The lady replies: ‘Monsieurs--I thank you
for the polite and flattering encomiums you are pleased to bestow on
me--I thank you in the name of the young prince, whose Charms are
inexpressible, and regret that he cannot add his personal sentiments to
those which I entertain, to the Legislative Body.’ In another portion
of the picture the foul linen of the precious child is being washed and
hung to dry.




The next caricature requires some little explanation. We find in the
‘Courier’ of September 20, 1811, the following paragraph:--‘Dover,
September 19. Early this morning we heard a heavy firing on the
opposite shore; it continued at times all the morning, and was very hot
about one o’clock; the wind is to the southward, and eastward, which
makes us hear very plain; no news has arrived as to the cause; by some
it is conjectured that Buonaparte is at Boulogne, and by others, that
the flotilla is out, and some of our cruisers firing at them. It still
continues, though not so heavy as in the early part of the day.’

Details did not arrive till the 22nd, and then the ‘Courier’ published
an account of the naval engagement off Boulogne, on which the
caricature is evidently grounded: ‘The cause of the incessant firing on
the French Coast, is now ascertained to be an engagement between the
_Naiad_, 3 sloops, and a cutter, and 7 large French praams, each as
large as a frigate, 11 gun brigs, and other small craft, 27 in all. The
following letter gives an account of the engagement:--We took the Port
Admiral in his praam, but afterwards ran off--However we took another,
and brought her away--Buonaparte saw the engagement--he was in a boat
with Marshall Ney.’

All accounts, though they do not agree in the number of French vessels
engaged, are singularly unanimous as to the presence of Napoleon and

‘The first glorious exploit of the Invincible Flotilla. Devils among
the Flats, or Boney getting into Hot Water’ (unknown artist, September
20, 1811), represents one of the Flotilla returning much damaged, and
full of corpses, only the captain and a steersman alive on board.
Napoleon, who is in another boat, is in a fearful rage, tries to get at
him, and is restrained by one of his marshals (Ney)--who remarks, ‘Ma
foi, take care, your Majesty will be in hot water up to the chin’--from
throwing himself into the boiling water. ‘You scoundrel,’ says he, ‘how
dare you run away when you were 27 to 5. I’ll order the guns of the
batteries to sink every one of you.’ But the captain excuses himself,
‘Eh bien, mais, mon Empereur, you tell us de Jack Anglais be men, mais,
by Gar, we find dem Devils.’ To which a man in Napoleon’s boat replies,
‘Very true Monsieur Ney, de devils Jack Bulls make hot water all over
de Vorld.’ The spirit of Nelson appears, like a comet in the sky,
darting lightning at the Flotilla.

The year 1812 was not fruitful in caricature of Napoleon. In May,
accompanied by Maria Louisa, he visited the eastern part of France, met
the King and Queen of Saxony at Freyburg, and entered Dresden in state.
There he met the Emperor and Empress of Austria, the King of Prussia,
and the Kings of Saxony, Naples, Würtemberg, Westphalia, and Bavaria,
besides a heap of smaller potentates. The Emperor of Russia was not
present; he had concluded an alliance with Sweden against France,
an alliance which was afterwards, during this year, joined by Great
Britain. In June, Napoleon visited Dantzig, and left it on the 11th. As
a final measure, Count Lauriston was sent to Alexander, to see if the
difference could be patched up, but the breach was made inevitable by
the refusal of that monarch, or his ministers, to see him.

This decided Napoleon, and, from his head-quarters at Wilkowisky, he
issued the following proclamation: ‘Soldiers! the second war of Poland
has commenced. The first was terminated at Friedland and Tilsit. At
Tilsit, Russia swore eternal alliance with France, and war against
England. She has openly violated her oath; and refuses to render any
explanation of her strange conduct, till the French eagles shall
have repassed the Rhine, and, consequently, left their Allies at her
discretion. Russia is impelled onward by fatality. Her destiny is about
to be accomplished. Does she believe that we have degenerated? that we
are no longer the soldiers of Austerlitz? She has placed us between
dishonour and war: the choice cannot for a moment be doubtful. Let us
march forward then, and, crossing the Niemen, carry the war into her
territories! The second war of Poland will be to the French arms as
glorious as the first; but our next peace must carry with it its own
guarantee, and put an end to that arrogant influence which, for the
last fifty years, Russia has exercised over the affairs of Europe.’

In No. 1 of a series of caricatures on the Russian campaign, published
in April 1813, and seemingly by G. Cruikshank, is represented,
‘The Parting of Hector-Nap, and Andromache, or Russia threatened.’
Napoleon’s horse is waiting for him, the windows are crowded with
ladies to see the departure. Napoleon is ecstatic at the sight of
his little son, who is held aloft by Maria Louisa. The young King of
Rome flourishes a sword, and says, ‘I will kill the people, as my
Papa does.’ His mother wishes him to ‘Kiss him, then, my dear! and he
will bring you some of the naughty Russians to kill.’ Napoleon bids
‘Farewell! I go, I’ll see, I’ll conquer. On my return I’ll greet our
Son with a new Title.

  That’s right, my boy, cause war to rage
  And rise the Tyrant of a future age.’

Napoleon started on this disastrous campaign, which was the prelude to
his downfall, with an army of about four hundred and twenty thousand
men, most of them doomed to perish in the snows of Russia. The river
Niemen was crossed, and, on June 28, Napoleon made his public entry
into Wilna, which had not long since, and very hurriedly, been
evacuated by the Emperor Alexander.

But even the commencement of this campaign was marked by disaster.
Napoleon had arranged all the details; but the incompetence, or worse,
of his subordinates failed to carry them out. After the Niemen had
been crossed, not a third of the provisions necessary for the army
had arrived, and at Wilna it was found that some hundreds of men had
perished from want and fatigue. The mortality was worse among the
horses, having lost about ten thousand. Before a battle was fought,
and scarcely a month from the commencement of the campaign, there were
twenty-five thousand sick men in the hospitals at Wilna.

Napoleon waited a fortnight at Wilna; but the Russians were driven back
from Ostrovno, by Murat, and more time was consumed at Witepsk. Then
came the attack on Smolensko, on August 16 and 17, when the French lost
15,000, and the Russians 10,000 men, and the Russians still kept the
city. But next day, when the French again advanced against it, they
found it deserted. For this the Russian general, Barclay de Tolly, was
deprived of his command, forasmuch as he had given up a holy city to
the enemy without fighting a pitched battle for its preservation.

But, to proceed somewhat chronologically, we must remember that, on
July 22, Wellington gained a great victory at Salamanca, where the
French lost eleven pieces of cannon, two eagles, and six colours, one
general, 136 other officers, and 7,000 prisoners. The general public
did not know this news till the 4th of August, and the illuminations in
its honour did not take place till the 17th, 18th, and 19th of August.
It is to this event, doubtless, that the following refers.

In September 1812 was published a caricature of ‘British Welcome or a
Visit from the Bantam to the Lion.

  Though Bantam Boney claps his wings,
    Yet this we may rely on:
  He’ll turn his tail and run away
    Whene’er he meets the Lion.’

And that is precisely as he is represented in the caricature. The
pursuing lion says, ‘So, my little Bantam, you are come to pay me a
visit--Well lets have a shake of your claw.’ But the bantam, with a
very terrified expression of countenance, declines: ‘Excusé moi, Mons^r
le Lion, you gripe too hard.’

The battle of Borodino (or, as the French call it, Moskowa) was fought
on September 7, and was, probably, the bloodiest of all Napoleon’s
battles, but it laid Moscow open to the conqueror.

  But soon the cloudless sun was gone,
  And a thick fog arose thereon--
  Nap prais’d the fog--indeed he did,
  Because his movements would be hid--
  And to the army, in array,
  This was the order of the day--
  ‘Brave soldiers! fight for endless glory,
  The wish’d-for field now lies before ye,
  You’ll with abundance be supplied,
  Good winter quarters, too, beside--
  A quick return home--that is more;
  Then fight, my lads, as heretofore;
  Posterity will say--_There’s one
  Who was at Moscow when ’twas won_.’
  The French and Russians now engaged,
  And furiously the battle raged;
  In great confusion, and dismay,
  Poor Boney’s scatter’d troops gave way;
  Our hero his assaults repeated,
  And still the wounded French retreated.
  ‘This battle,’ Nap exclaim’d, ‘has been,
  The greatest that was ever seen.’
  And true enough, our hero said,
  For eighty thousand men lay dead.

The French entered Moscow on September 14, a day that Napoleon must
have bitterly rued. I do not think the burning of this city could be
better told than by Napoleon’s own words[24]: ‘Had it not been for
that fire at Moscow, I should have succeeded. I would have wintered
there. There were in that city about forty thousand citizens, who were,
in a manner, slaves. For you must know that the Russian nobility keep
their vassals in a sort of slavery. I would have proclaimed liberty to
all the slaves in Russia, and abolished vassalage and nobility. This
would have procured me the union of an immense and powerful party. I
would either have made a peace at Moscow, or else I would have marched
the next year to Petersburg.

‘Alexander was assured of it, and sent his diamonds, valuables,
and ships to England. Had it not been for that fire, I should have
succeeded in everything. I beat them, two days before, in a great
action at Moskowa; I attacked the Russian army of two hundred and fifty
thousand strong, entrenched up to their necks, with ninety thousand,
and totally defeated them. Seventy thousand Russians lay upon the
field. They had the impudence to say that they had gained the battle,
though two days after, I marched into Moscow. I was in the midst of a
fine city, provisioned for a year, for in Russia they always lay in
provisions for several months before the frost sets in. Stores of all
kinds were in plenty. The houses of the inhabitants were well provided,
and many had left their servants to attend upon us. In most of them
there was a note left by the proprietor, begging the French officers
who took possession to take care of their furniture and other things:
that they had left every article necessary for our wants, and hoped
to return in a few days, when the Emperor Alexander had accommodated
matters, at which time they would be happy to see us. Many ladies
remained behind. They knew that I had been in Berlin and Vienna with
my armies, and that no injury had been done to the inhabitants; and,
moreover, they expected a speedy peace. We were in hopes of enjoying
ourselves in winter quarters, with every prospect of success in the
spring. Two days after our arrival, a fire was discovered, which, at
first, was not supposed to be alarming, but to have been caused by the
soldiers kindling their fires too near the houses, which were chiefly
of wood. I was angry at this, and issued very strict orders on the
subject to the commandants of regiments and others.

‘The next day it had advanced, but still not so as to give serious
alarm. However, afraid that it might gain upon us, I went out on
horseback, and gave every direction to extinguish it. The next morning
a violent wind arose, and the fire spread with the greatest rapidity.
Some hundred miscreants, hired for that purpose, dispersed themselves
in different parts of the town, and, with matches, which they concealed
under their cloaks, set fire to as many houses to windward as they
could, which was easily done, in consequence of the combustible
materials of which they were built. This, together with the violence
of the wind, rendered every effort to extinguish the fire ineffectual.
I, myself, narrowly escaped with life. In order to shew an example, I
ventured into the midst of the flames, and had my hair and eyebrows
singed, and my clothes burnt off my back; but it was in vain, as they
had destroyed most of the pumps, of which there were above a thousand;
out of all these, I believe that we could only find one that was
serviceable. Besides, the wretches that had been hired by Rostopchin
ran about in every quarter, disseminating fire with their matches, in
which they were but too much assisted by the wind.

‘This terrible conflagration ruined everything. I was prepared for
everything but this. It was unforeseen, for who would have thought
that a nation would have set its capital on fire? The inhabitants
themselves did all they could to extinguish it, and several of them
perished in their endeavours. They also brought before us numbers of
the incendiaries, with their matches, as among such a _popolazzo_ we
never could have discovered them ourselves. I caused about two hundred
of these wretches to be shot.

‘Had it not been for this fatal fire, I had everything my army wanted:
excellent winter quarters; stores of all kinds were in plenty; and the
next year would have decided it. Alexander would have made peace, or
I would have been in Petersburg.’ I asked if he thought that he could
entirely subdue Russia. ‘No,’ replied Napoleon; ‘but I would have
caused Russia to make such a peace as suited the interests of France.
I was five days too late in quitting Moscow. Several of the generals
were burnt out of their beds. I, myself, remained in the Kremlin until
surrounded by flames. The fire advanced, seized the Chinese and India
warehouses, and several stores of oil and spirits, which burst forth in
flames, and overwhelmed everything.

‘I then retired to a country-house of the Emperor Alexander’s, distant
about a league from Moscow, and you may figure to yourself the
intensity of the fire, when I tell you that you could scarcely bear
your hands upon the walls or windows on the side next to Moscow, in
consequence of their heated state.

‘It was the spectacle of a sea and billows of fire, a sky and clouds of
flame; mountains of red rolling flames, like immense waves of the sea,
alternately bursting forth, and elevating themselves to skies of fire,
and then sinking into the ocean of flame below. Oh! it was the most
grand, the most sublime, and the most terrific sight the world ever

Napoleon, however, returned to the Kremlin on September 20, and, the
main portion of the building being uninjured, a theatre was improvised
therein. Early in October, he stated his determination to march on
St. Petersburg, but never acted on it. Instead, he entered into
negotiations for peace. Snow began to fall on October 13, a portent of
an early winter, and winter quarters must be found. Events, however,
did not march as he would have had them. On the 18th the Russians,
under Beningsen, attacked and defeated Murat, and on the 19th Napoleon
left Moscow, and the famous flight from thence began. Of the horrors
of that flight, it is hardly the province of this work to dilate
upon--mine is more to chronicle the feeling in England with regard
to the events then passing. It may be said that it was bad taste to
caricature such an appalling disaster--but when did a question of taste
deter a satirist or caricaturist? Take, as an instance, an event which
many of us well remember, the death of the Emperor Nicholas of Russia
in 1855. That solemn event might well have been passed by, but it was
food to the caricaturist, and he made money out of it. See ‘Punch’ of
March 10, 1855, and note the ghastly cartoon of ‘General Février turned
Traitor. “_Russia has Two Generals in whom she can confide--Generals
Janvier and Février._” Speech of the late Emperor of Russia.’

‘Jack Frost attacking Boney in Russia’ was published in November
1812. A fearful-looking monster, mounted on a northern bear, pursues
Bonaparte (who flees), pelting him all the way with huge snowballs.
Napoleon is on skates, and holds his poor frost-bitten nose, crying
out, ‘By gar, Monsieur Frost this is a much colder Reception than I
expected. I never experienced such a pelting before--I find I must take
care of my nose, as well as my toes. Pray forgive me this time, and I
swear by S^t Dennis never to enter your dominion again.’ Jack Frost
makes answer, ‘What, Master Boney! have I caught you at last. I’ll
teach you Russian fare. Take that, and that, as a relish, and digest

‘General Frost shaveing Little Boney’ (December 1, 1812) is very grim
in its humour. Bonaparte begs, but in vain, for pity: ‘Pray Brother
General, have Mercy. Don’t overwhelm me with your hoary element. You
have so nipped me, that my very teeth chatter. O dear--I am quite chop
fallen.’ But the unrelenting and unpitying Frost replies, ‘Invade my
Country, indeed! I’ll shave, freeze, and bury you in snow, you little

‘Polish Diet with French Desert’ is the title of a caricature published
December 8, 1812. It represents Bonaparte spitted, and being roasted
before an enormous fire, on which is being cooked a frying-pan full of
frogs, which, however, jump out of it into the fire. A Westphalian bear
is turning the spit and jeering at the poor victim. ‘How do you like
_Benningsen baisting_, Master Boney? and your Frogs?’ This ‘Benningsen
baisting’ is being very liberally supplied to Boney by a gigantic
Russian, who holds a huge ladleful of it in one hand, whilst with the
other he grasps a red-hot poker of Russian iron. This ferocious Cossack
says, ‘I’ll Roast--Beast (baste)--Dish--& Devour you! He smoaks Brother
Bruin--another turn and he is done.’ Poor Napoleon, in his agony, calls
out, ‘Our situation may be fun to you, Mr. Bear--but Death to us.’


The following shows the estimation in which Bonaparte’s bulletins were
held by the English.

In December 1812 G. Cruikshank gave his idea of ‘Boney hatching
a Bulletin, or Snug Winter Quarters.’ With the exception of one
Frenchman, who wears pieces of board for snow-shoes, and who exclaims,
‘By Gar, he is almost lost!!’ Boney and all his army are up to their
necks in snow. A general asks him, ‘Vat de devil shall ve say in de
Bulletin?’ Boney replies, ‘Say!!!! why say we have got into comfortable
Winter Quarters, and that the weather is very fine, and will last 8
days longer. Say we have got plenty of Soup Maigre, plenty of Minced
Meat--Grill’d Bears fine eating--driving _Cut-us-off_ to the Devil. Say
we shall be at home at Xmas to dinner--give my love to darling--dont
let John Bull know that I have been Cow poxed--tell a good lie about
the Cossacks. D--n it, tell anything but the truth.’

[Illustration: RETREAT FROM MOSCOW.]

There was another version of ‘The Valley of the Shadow of Death,’
published December 18, 1812, but it is not so good as that by Gillray
already given (September 24, 1808):--

  By conflagrations always harass’d,
  No man was ever so embarrass’d;
  He sought in vain a lurking place,
  Destruction star’d him in the face;
  Hemm’d in--he sought for peace in vain--
  No peace could Bonaparte obtain;
  He swore, when peace he could not get,
  The Russians were a barb’rous set.
  Intending now to change his rout,
  He sent Murat on the look out;
  Murat, tho’, met with a defeat,
  Which play’d the deuce with Nap’s retreat.
  How great was Bonaparte’s despair!
  He raved, he swore, he tore his hair--
  His troops were absolutely frozen,
  No man was sure he had his nose on.
  The Cossacks, too, made rude attacks,
  And laid some hundreds on their backs;
  So, in the midst of an affray,
  Nap thought it best to run away.

According to the caricaturist, during the retreat Napoleon was nearly
caught by Cossacks, and only saved by jumping out of window; but as the
same story is told of him during his retreat from Leipsic, they may as
well be combined, and the reader will thus be enabled to apply it to
whichever event he prefers:--

  He chang’d his dress--his horse bestrode,
  And in full speed to Wilna rode;
  As soon as he began to fly,
  The Russians rais’d a _hue and cry_;
  A great reward, as it is said,
  Was offer’d for our hero’s head,
  That some to take him might be bribed,
  Thus Boney’s person was described--
  His figure rather short and thin--
  Black hair--black beard--projecting chin--
  Nose aquiline, with marks of snuff,
  Arch’d eyebrows--manners very rough--
  Stern countenance, dress’d rather mean,
  And in a grey surtout oft seen.
  But, notwithstanding his dismay,
  Poor Bonaparte got safe away.
  When he to Wilna’s borders came,
  He very wisely changed his name;
  And in a sledge--’twas so contriv’d,
  At Paris in the night arriv’d.

‘Nap nearly nab’d or a retreating jump just in time. _Never did_ trusty
squire with knight, Or knight with squire, e’er jump more right--Vide
Boney’s Russian Campaign,’ was published in June 1813. It shows the
Cossacks arriving, and Napoleon jumping out of window, to the great
detriment of the flower-pots, pigs, and poultry. A general inside the
house calls out, ‘Vite, Courez, mon Empereur, ce Diable de Cossack dey
spoil our dinner!!!’


  He by the Cossacks was pursued,
  But luckily a dwelling view’d--
  And, while his legions bravely fought,
  Protection in this house he sought;
  The guards, who had the place surrounded,
  Were cut to pieces, kill’d and wounded.
  Nap pricked his ears up at the rout,
  He op’d the window and jump’d out--
  Jump’d out! how great, then, was his dread,
  Fell he upon his feet--or head?
  No--not his feet--because he _sat_--
  He could not fall like a Tom cat--
  Nor would he break his pretty nose,
  And so--another part he chose--
  ’Tis true--his bum was very sore,
  His breeches, here and there, he tore;
  But such a trifle little matters,
  A Man can run altho’ in tatters--
  So oft was Boney sore afraid
  That he a pris’ner might be made;
  But, as the man would fain his cracks hide,
  He tuck’d his skirts about his backside.

There is another caricature of Napoleon’s escape from the Cossacks,
by G. Cruikshank, published some time in 1813, entitled ‘The Narrow
escape, or Boney’s Grand Leap _à la Grimaldi_!! No sooner had Napoleon
alighted & entered a miserable house for refreshment, than a party
of Cossacks rushed in after him. Never was Miss Platoff so near
Matrimony!!! Had not the Emperor been very alert at Vaulting, and leapt
through the Window, with the nimbleness of an Harlequin, while his
faithful followers were fighting for his life, there would, probably,
have been an end at once to that Grand Bubble, the French Empire.’
There is nothing particular about this picture; it is the same as the
others--the same Cossacks, and the same episode of the leap.



One of the last caricatures of this year is a very elaborate
picture--‘The Arms and Supporters of Napoleon Bonaparte the self
created Emperor, alias the Corsican, and now the Curse of Europe.’ It
was published December 1812, but the artist is unknown, which is a
pity, as the execution is very good. The animus that inspired it will
be seen in the following Explanation, which accompanies it:--

    The Crest represents the World, which, England and Sweden
    excepted, is set on fire everywhere by the incendiary
    Corsican; his bloody actions and designs are expressed by
    the bloody hand and dagger reaching towards Spain. Tyranny,
    Hypocrisy, Barbarity and Villany are his standards, which are
    distinguishable through the smoke, and the fire, and have
    nearly enveloped the whole Globe.

    His supporters are The French Devil, and the Corsican Devil.

    The French Devil, or _le diable boiteux_, formerly a Nobleman
    and a priest: any body may easily guess that he, and
    Talleyrand, are one and the same creature: by the hour glass he
    indicates, however, that time is running away, and that Boney’s
    downfall is fast approaching. The Gallic cock destroying
    religion is his emblem.

    The Corsican Devil, who, being intoxicated with unbounded
    ambition, wears an Iron crown ornamented with thorns: he cuts
    down the cap of liberty, because tyranny is his idol. The
    Serpent and the hyena are very proper emblems of his infamous
    character and conduct.

    _Description of the Arms divided into Eight Quarters._

    1. The Mushroom on a dunghill denotes his descent, or origin of
    family. The Crocodile expresses his treacherous transactions in
    Egypt, his apostacy, and his cowardly desertion from his army.
    The bloody hand, the guillotine, and the black heart, can only
    belong to such a monster.

    2. Represents the shooting of 800 defenceless Turkish
    prisoners, near the town of Jaffa, ordered very coolly by the
    monster Boney.

    3. Shews the poisoning his own sick soldiers in the hospital at
    Jaffa, by his express orders.

    4. Exhibits a scene never known before in the Civilized World.
    The foul murder (for it cannot be called anything else, though
    Boney excuses it by his mock Court Martial) of the Duke

    5. Here the monster compels the Pope to come to Paris, and to
    assist at a blasphemous coronation, where Boney stands upon no
    ceremony with the Holy Father. Boney puts on the iron crown
    himself with one hand, whilst the other hand is employed in
    robbing the Catholic Church of its head.

    6. Exhibits another shocking scene; the truly English patriot,
    Captain Wright, is put to death, because he will not be a
    traitor to his king and country.

    7. Here we behold the massacre of the defenceless citizens of
    Madrid, on the 2nd of May, 1808.

    8. Represents the imprisonment of King Ferdinand the 7th
    because he will not renounce the Crown of Spain, nor marry
    Boney’s niece.

The Motto is taken from Proverbs, chapter xxviii. verse 15--‘As a
roaring lion, and a ranging bear, so is a wicked ruler over the poor

On December 16 of this year was published an ‘Extraordinary Gazette’
which perfectly electrified this country. It contained detailed reports
of the successes over the French--news which filled every English heart
with joy.

The ‘Times’ of December 17 says:--‘We hardly know the terms in which
we are to address the people of this and every other European country,
on the subject of the _Extraordinary Gazette_ contained in this day’s
paper. It does more than confirm our hopes--it does more than justify
the ardent expressions of triumph, in which we indulged yesterday.
And really, in speaking of the successes of the Russians, we are
obliged to abate the excess of our joy. Not from any doubt of their
magnitude, or reality, for upon these our countrymen may rely; but from
mere apprehension, lest the vicissitude of human affairs, which does
not usually suffer mankind to exult beyond measure upon any occasion
whatever, should, by we know not what unexpected reverse, abate
somewhat of the transcendent felicity which is promised the world,
by the overthrow, and disgrace, of its most detested and detestable
tyrant. We shall only say, therefore, in so many words, that Buonaparte
is wholly defeated in Russia; he is conquered, and a fugitive. And what
can we say more? We have seen his army pass from victory to victory;
we have seen it overthrow kingdoms, and subjugate realms,--insult
sovereigns, and oppress peasants--violate every human right, and
diffuse every species of human misery. And now where is it? Where shall
we look for it? “A wide and capable destruction hath swallowed it up.”
In this awful event we rather admire in humility the dispensations of
Providence, than exult with pride over the fall of a haughty foe; it is
hardly to be viewed as an occurrence between man and man, or between
nation and nation; but as a divine judgment upon the earth.’

To give an idea of the state of tension at which men’s minds then
were held, I may be pardoned if I give the following extract[25]: ‘He
[Professor Sedgwick] gave a curious account of Commemoration Day, on
December 16, 1812. He was then a Fellow, and, on that day, not feeling
well, had not been drinking his port wine so freely in the Combination
Room, as it was, in those days, the custom of the Fellows to do. A man,
he said, who did not then drink pretty hard, was considered a milksop.
Leaving the other Fellows over their wine, he went to the gate, where
the porter gave him a Newspaper, on opening which, he found the
official announcement by Napoleon of the destruction of his grand army
(_sic_). With this news he returned to the Combination Room, and there
read the tidings, to the intense joy and excitement of all present.
_Old and young_, he said, _wept like children_.’[26]

The Russians estimated the French losses by capture from their first
invasion of Russia to December 26, 1812, at 41 generals, 1,298 inferior
officers, 167,510 non-commissioned officers and privates, and 1,131
pieces of cannon.

Buturlin estimated the total loss sustained by the French in the
Russian campaign at ‘Slain in battle, one hundred and twenty-five
thousand; died from fatigue, hunger, and cold, one hundred and
thirty-two thousand; prisoners (comprehending forty-eight generals,
three thousand officers, and upwards of one hundred and ninety thousand
men), one hundred and ninety-three thousand; total, four hundred
and fifty thousand,’ and this takes no count of the thousands of
non-combatants who perished.

The destruction of his army, his crushing defeat, and Mallet’s
conspiracy, all determined Napoleon to return to France, and he reached
Paris about half-past eleven at night on December 18. How different
from his hitherto triumphal entries! Maria Louisa had retired to rest,
and was woke by the cries of her attendants, who were frightened at
the sight of a man muffled up in furs, not knowing he was their august
master. And thus he slunk home!

In June 1813 was published ‘Naps glorious return or the conclusion of
the Russian Campaign.

  A few Usurpers to the Shades descend.
  By a dry death, or with a quiet end.’

In this plate we see Maria Louisa preparing to go to bed, Madame
Letitia, Napoleon’s mother, pulling off her stockings. The old lady
cries out, ‘Ah, de Ghost!! de Ghost of mon Nap.’ The Empress is
frightened, and exclaims, ‘Jesu Maria, what is this so woe begone? It
cannot be my husband, he promised to return in triumph, it must be his
Ghost.’ Even his little boy, the King of Rome, doubts his identity.
He is getting ready for bed, and already has his nightcap on, but he
runs away in fright, crying, ‘That ain’t my Papa!! he said he would
bring me some Russians to cut up. I think they have cut him up.’ Whilst
Bonaparte, who enters in a most dilapidated condition, with his toes
coming through his boots, his sword and scabbard broken, and his face
besmeared with dirt, calls out dolefully, ‘Me voici! your poor Nap
escape from de Cossack--by gar, I jump out of de window for my life,
and I now jump into bed vid my wife.’ The ladies-in-waiting have
fainted, and one, having left the warming-pan in the bed, has set it on
fire, and it is burning brightly.

On January 1, 1813, was published another caricature of the retreat
from Moscow: ‘Boney returning from Russia covered with Glory, leaving
his Army in _Comfortable_ Winter Quarters.

  Nap and Joe, from France would go
    To fill the world with slaughter,
  Joe fell down, and broke his crown,
    And Nap came tumbling after.’

Napoleon, with one of his generals, is in full retreat, in a sledge,
leaving his army pursued by the Russians, and the ground strewn with
dead men and horses. The general asks, ‘Will your Majesty write the
Bulletin?’ ‘No,’ answers Napoleon, ‘you write it! tell them we have
left the Army all well, quite gay, in excellent Quarters, plenty of
provisions--that we travelled in great Style--received everywhere with
congratulations, and that I have almost compleated the _repose of

George Cruikshank (February 22, 1813) produced, after a picture by
David, a most laughable caricature, called ‘The Hero’s Return.

  Dishonest, with lopp’d arms, the man appears,
  Spoil’d of his nose, and shorten’d of his ears.
  She scarcely knew him, striving to disown
  His blotted form, and blushing to be known.’

            Dryden’s _Virgil_, Book 6.

Poor Napoleon, in very evil case, _sans_ nose, ears, fingers, and
toes, is borne in, supported by two Mamelukes, and riding on the back
of another, who is on all fours. The Empress is tearing her hair, and
weeping violently, whilst a maid-of-honour is holding a smelling-bottle
to her nose. Another lady-in-waiting has seized the King of Rome, who
is yelling with fright at the sight his father presents. His very dog
barks at him, and universal consternation prevails. The Oriental on the
floor holds a glass bottle containing Napoleon’s nose; whilst three
others in the rear bear respectively bottles which hold the Emperor’s
fingers, toes and ears.

After the return of Napoleon from Moscow, the following _jeu d’esprit_
was published:--

  When Emperor Nap to France returned,
    He much admired his boy;
  The nurse, whose anxious bosom burned
    T’ increase the father’s joy.

  ‘How much he talks! how much he’s grown!’
    Would every moment cry;
  ‘Besides he has learnt to run alone.’
    Says Boney, ‘So have I.’

Here is another:--


  ‘A new Achilles, I,’ spake Gaul’s stern chief,
  Nor spake a lie--albeit he _were_ a thief;
  For, like Achilles, to the untimely grave
  Hosts he had hurled, the bravest of the brave;
  Insate of wrath, stiffnecked, implacable,
  Wrecker of towns; and fleet of foot as well;
  So like was he in much; yet not in all;--
  The heel, that slew the Greek, has saved the Gaul.

Napoleon was not the man to sit still under defeat, and, very shortly
after his return, he set himself to repair losses. These were heavy;
there was an entirely new artillery to be provided, remounts for his
cavalry, and, what was of the greatest importance, a new army to be
made. This he got by anticipating the conscription of 1814, and the
patriotism of his people helped him largely with the remainder. The
caricaturist has sharp eyes, and he produced ‘Bonaparte reviewing his
Conscripts,’ which is an anonymous picture, dated February 23, 1813,
and represents the Emperor, who is mounted on a jackass, and who has a
very motley following, reviewing his Dutch light horse, who are mounted
on frogs, every man with a keg of Hollands under his arm.

There is a very comical picture of ‘Bonaparte addressing the
Legislative Body’ after his return from Russia (designed December 1,
1812, published February 24, 1813). Here the discomfited Emperor is in
very sorry plight: his coat is in tatters, his breeches cover only a
very small portion of his legs, his toes are well out of his boots, and
he in vain tries, with his handkerchief, to stop the tears which flow
so copiously, as he says, ‘I myself entered Russia. The Russian Armies
could not stand before our armies. The French Arms were constantly
victorious--A swarm of Tartars turned their parricidal hands against
the finest provinces of that vast Empire which they had been called
upon to defend--But the excessive and premature rigour of the winter
brought down a heavy calamity upon my army--In a few nights I saw
everything change.--The misfortunes produced by rigour of hoar frosts,
have been made apparent in all their extent--I experienced great
losses--they would have broken my heart, if under such circumstances,
I could have been accessible to any other sentiments than those of the
interest--the glory--and the future prosperity of my people--I have
signed with the Pope, a Concordat, which terminates all the differences
that unfortunately had arisen in the Church--The French Dynasty
reigns--and will reign in Spain--I am satisfied with all my allies--I
will abandon none of them--The Russians shall return into their
frightful climate.’

On March 6, 1813, appeared ‘The Wags of Paris or Downfall of Nap
the Great. “But the circumstance said to have annoyed the Emperor
most, was, some Wags of Paris taking of Dogs, and for sev’ral nights
together, tied Tin Kettles to their tails, and labels round their
necks, with the words ‘Run away from Moscow,’ & giving them liberty,
they ran with velocity, and fury, in various directions, to the great
Entertainment of the Parisians.” _Courier 1 Mar. 1813._’ One of these
dogs has got between Napoleon’s legs, and is throwing him down, while
he calls out, ‘Sacré Dieu!! Plot Anglais!! Not a Dog in Paris but shall
feel my Vengeance!! Shoot! hang them all! Not the Empress’s Favorite
shall escape. D--d John Bull--d--d Russian bears, not content with
hunting Me from the _frightful climate_, but sends Mad Dogs to Hunt
Me in my own Capital!!!’ The Governor of Paris replies, ‘Sire, be
pacified. All the Dogs in Paris shall be tried by a Military Commission
for a Conspiracy against your Sacred Majesty. All John Bull’s bull dogs
shall be destroyed! Pomeranian Danish Mastiffs & all but your Majesty’s
own breed of _Blood hounds_.’

‘Anticipation for _Boney_--or, a Court Martial on the Cowardly Deserter
from the Grand Army,’ by G. Cruikshank (March 6, 1813), is an imaginary
scene of what might happen, did the Emperor meet with his deserts. The
Parisian mob have the upper hand, and a cobbler has been proclaimed
Emperor in his stead. Before this awful being, Boney is dragged by a
ferocious butcher, who, with an enormous axe in one hand, holds in the
other the halter which encircles the neck of poor trembling Boney, who
is on his knees, with upraised, supplicating hands. The _sans-culotte_
Emperor Crispin is seated in a chair, on a _haut pas_; a cap of
liberty, on a pole, behind him. In one hand he holds a hammer, and one
foot rests on a lapstone. Pointing to the wretched culprit, he says,
‘Well! you are found guilty of cowardly deserting from the grand army,
and, by repairing here with your cobbling defence, you have done a d--d
bad job for yourself, and, as your time waxes near its end, I would
have you prepare your Sole for your Last. So off with his head, Mr.
Butcher.’ The butcher looks unutterable things at Boney, saying, ‘Ah,
D--n you we’ll cut off your head, and your Tail too!’ The poor craven
wretch, with streaming eyes, and upstanding hair, pitifully supplicates
that at all events his head should be spared. But the yelling mob cry
out, ‘Off with his head.’ ‘Aye, Aye, he has butchered Millions.’ And
the women and children scream, ‘Where’s my husband, wretch?’ ‘Where’s
my Father?’ ‘Where’s my Daddy?’ &c.

Drilling went on, a necessary step to the formation of a new army,
and the French temperament is well shown in a caricature, published
in April 1813, of ‘Nap reviewing the Grand Army, or the Conquest of
Russia anticipated,’ in which, during the march past, he points to his
soldiers with his sword, and says to two of his generals, ‘With this
Army will I crush those Russian Scourges, and make all Nations tremble
at my wrath.’ One general, in his enthusiasm, exclaims, ‘Parbleu!
vid dis Armée ve vil conquer de Heaven!!!’ The other, evidently an
Anglophobe, says, ‘And de Hell too, dat we may send dere de dam

In April Napoleon judged that his army was in a fit state to take the
field, and the caricaturist’s idea of a council of war is humorously
told in the picture of ‘Boney and the Gay lads of Paris calculating
for the next Triumphal entry into Moscow.’ This broadside, which made
its appearance in April 1813, represents Bonaparte and his generals
in council. The latter are in different stages of dilapidation, some
having lost their noses, others with their feet bound up, and all more
or less suffering from frost-bite. One, pointing to a map, says, ‘By
Gar, Sire, we had better go to Petersburgh at once.’ Napoleon replies,
‘Aye, and then we can march to Siberia, and release the Exiles, who
will gladly join us, and abjure their tyrant.’ Two generals, in
conversation together, do not seem to relish the plan. One remarks,
‘Sacre Dieu, I no like de Russia Campaign. I lose my nose, my fingers,
and toes, in de last.’ And the other replies, ‘Eh bien, den now we lose
all our odds and ends.’ The letterpress is as follows:--

  Master Boney was fain, after fighting with Spain,
    And loseing some thousands of men;
  To make an attack on the Russian Cossack,
    With Nations to assist him full Ten.

  He began with a boast, that he’d scower their Coast,
    And drive them all into the Sea;
  He continued his blow, till he got to Moscow,
    His designed Winter quarters to be.

  But when he got there, Lord how he did stare
    To see the whole place in a flame,
  Not a house for his head, not a rug for his bed,
    Neither plunder, nor victuals, nor fame. ·

  So he sent every Scout, who ran in and out,
    But brought neither forage, nor food;
  For that d--d Wittgenstein, so compleat hem’d him in,
    That they dared not to venture a rood.

  Now the fire having ceas’d, and the frost much encreas’d,
    No cov’ring, no clothes to protect ’em;
  Boney thought to be packing, Kutusoff began hacking,
    And the Cossacks did fairly dissect ’em.

  Says this Corsican wight, Why let my Friends fight,
    As for me, the old Proverb I’ll follow,
  He that fights and then runs, may, in spite of their guns,
    Live! and some future day beat them hollow.

  But take care, Master Nap, you meet with no trap,
    To poke either leg or your head in;
  Loss of legs stops your flight, lose your head, why the sight
    Will be welcome at Miss Platoff’s[27] wedding.

  In a sledge it is said, this King was convey’d,
    Like a criminal back into France;
  But his Army and Friends, to make them amends,
    He gave them a precious cold dance.

  The frost kill’d one half, the rest Kutusoff
    Kill’d, or prisoners made in their flight;
  Thus the Russians did beat Nap and Friends so compleat,
    That no Armies e’er suffered such plight.

  Now this madman, ’tis said, has ta’en in his head
    To attempt at another Campaign,
  With but half of his friends, yet still he intends
    To venture to Moscow again.

  But if Nap, and Ten more, were beaten before,
    By raw Russian troops single handed;
  With what chance can he hope against Russia to cope,
    When their force with Allies is extended?

  No, No, Master Nap, you’ll not feather your cap
    Any more, for your race is near run;
  And your murderous heart, is destined, Bonaparte,
    To suffer for crimes it has done.

  Then ye Nations whose voice through fear, not from choice,
    To this tyrant its homage has paid,
  Join the brave Russian throng, that your miseries ere long
    May with Nap in Oblivion be laid.



An armistice was signed between the allies and Napoleon on June 4,
1813, to last till July 20: six days’ notice to be given of the
recommencement of hostilities. But Wellington seems to have disregarded
it; for, on June 21, he defeated the French army commanded by Joseph
Bonaparte, who had Marshal Jourdan under him, at Vittoria; completely
routing them, and taking 151 pieces of cannon, 415 ammunition waggons,
all their baggage, besides many prisoners.

Needless to say, the caricaturist did not omit his opportunity. ‘Mad
Nap breaking the Armistice’ (June 1813) is said to be taken ‘from
the original Picture at Dresden.’[28] Two messengers bring him their
reports. One is ‘English near Bayonne, Rising in South of France,
200,000 men joined the Bourbon Standard, Revolt at Toulon, Discontent
at Paris, All Spain evacuated, and more losses.’ The other messenger
tells the furious Emperor: ‘Diable! Your Grand Army in Spain is totally
routed, 180 Cannon, 400 Ammunition Waggons, All the Baggage! 9000 head
of Cattle, Military Chest full of money taken. Your brother, King Joey,
gallop’d away on horseback, Devil knows where! M. Jourdain has lost his
wig and stick! and the Enemy pursuing in all directions.’ Bonaparte
is in a towering rage, brandishing a poker, and kicking the last
messenger, to whom he roars out: ‘Away, base slaves. Fresh Torments!
Vile Cowards! Poltroon Joe! Traitor Jourdain! Cursed Anglais! I’ll make
Heaven and Earth tremble for this! but ’tis lies! base lies! Give me my
horse, I’ll mount, and away to Spain! England! Wellington! and Hell!
to drive Lucifer from his Infernal Throne for Treachery to ME!!’ A
frightened general standing by exclaims: ‘My Poor Master! is it come to
this? I must whip on this Strait Jacket, or he’ll break all our bones,
as well as the Armistice.’

As a corollary to this, although it does not belong to Napoleon proper,
I cannot abstain from noticing a picture published July 9, 1813, of
‘Jourdan and King Joe or Off they go--a Peep at the French Commanders
at the battle of Vittoria.’ The British troops have routed the French,
who fly in all directions; King Joseph and Marshal Jourdan, in the
foreground, are doing the same. Says the king: ‘Parbleu Mons^r Marshal,
we must run! a pretty piece of business we have made of it. If my
Brother Nap sends for me to the Congress, the Devil a clean shirt have
they left me! Could you not try your hand at a Convention again, my
dear Jourdan! as our friend Junot did in Portugal?’

But Jourdan replies: ‘Convention! No, ma foi! there is no tricking ce
Lord Wellington, we have nothing to trust to but our heels, but I dont
think they will save us, you need not be uneasy about a clean shirt for
the Congress, Mons^r Joe. Allons donc, run like de Devil! run like your
Brother Nap from Russia.’

George Cruikshank drew (July 8, 1813) a very humorous picture of
‘Boney receiving an account of the Battle of Vittoria--or--the Little
Emperor in a great Passion!’ A ragged postilion, mounted on the back
of a kneeling soldier, holds up a long roll: ‘King Joseph has been
defeated by Wellington with the loss of 151 pieces of Cannon, 415
Ammunition Waggons, Bag and Baggage, Provisions, &c., &c., &c. The
French have _one_ very fine little Howitzer left. One Quarter of the
Army is killed, the other wounded, the third Quarter taken prisoners,
and the English are playing the Devil with the rest.’

Napoleon, before his throne, is stamping, tearing his hair, and
flourishing his sword, to the undisguised terror of his Mameluke
Roustem; he roars out: ‘Oh!--!--!--!--!--!--!--! oh! Hell and the
Devil! Death and D--na--on!!! that cursed fiend John Bull will drive me
mad! Villains! Villains! ’tis all a lie, ’tis false as Hell, I say!!
away with the ---- scroll--it sears my very eyeballs!!! I’ll cut it
in Ten Thousand pieces--I’ll kick ye to the Devil--away with it!!!’
Russia, Prussia, and Austria are spectators. Russia suggests: ‘Now is
the time!’ In this Prussia cordially agrees, and says to Austria: ‘Now
or never, will you not join us?’

Only a portion is given of G. Cruikshank’s ‘A Scene after the Battle
of Vittoria, or More Trophies for Whitehall!!!’ (July 10, 1813). The
Duke of Wellington, on horseback, is receiving the captured colours,
&c., which his officers lay at his feet. He is evidently satisfied
with the result, for he exclaims: ‘Why! here’s enough for three Nights
Illumination!’ A general replies: ‘Three times three, my lord.’ One
presents him with a _bâton_: ‘Here’s Marshal Jourdan’s Rolling pin’;
and another, bringing in a captured standard, points to the group which
forms our illustration, saying: ‘And here comes their last Cannon!!’

The following caricature will do for any time during the year:--‘John
Bull teazed by an Earwig’ bears only the date of 1813, and is by
an unknown artist. The old boy is at his frugal meal of bread,
cheese, and beer, and has been reading the ‘True Briton,’ when he is
interrupted by little Boney, who, perched on his shoulder, pricks his
cheek with a Lilliputian sword. John Bull turns round half angrily, and
says: ‘I tell you what, you Vermin! if you won’t let me eat my bread
and cheese in peace, and comfort, I’ll blow you away, depend upon it.’
To which the insect replies: ‘I will have the cheese, you Brute you--I
have a great mind to annihilate you, you great, over grown, Monster!!!’


In October 1813 came out an etching of ‘Tom Thumb and the Giant, or a
forced March to Franckfort. _Kings are his Centinels, vide Sheridan’s
speech._ A letter from Stralsund states that Buonaparte, on his journey
to Paris, sent a Courier to the King of Wi----g[29] with orders for
him to proceed to Franckfort on the Maine, and the latter would meet
him there accordingly.’ Tom Thumb, Napoleon, on horseback, prods on
the King with his sword, telling him at the same time: ‘On, Sir,
to Franckfort, and there await my coming.’ The poor fat King, with
perspiring brows, piteously exclaims: ‘Well, I am going as fast as I
can---- Pretty work this for a Man of my Importance!! Was it for this
you put a Crown upon my head!’

Napoleon’s power was rapidly drawing to an end, and the crushing
defeat he received at Leipsic on October 16, 17, 18, 19, gave it its
death-blow. The news was promulgated throughout England by a ‘London
Gazette Extraordinary’ of November 3. The ‘Times’ of the same date had
hinted of reverses sustained by Napoleon, and on November 4 broke into
jubilation thus: ‘“Justice demands the sacrifice of the Tyrant,”[30]
such was the sentiment which concluded our last article,--a sentiment
not dictated by any feeling of transient growth, but adopted after long
and serious reflection on what is due to the moral interests, which are
the best and surest interests of nations. The French people will now
determine between the sacrifice of their Tyrant, and sacrifices of a
very different description, sacrifices of their lives, their children,
their treasure, their honour.

‘We had already communicated to our readers the private information
which we had received, stating that he had sustained “dreadful
reverses” in a “series of actions,” which had caused him “not only
a great diminution in the numbers of his men, but also a serious
loss of artillery”; and that he had himself “escaped with the utmost
difficulty to a place of comparative, and but comparative, safety.”
Such were the accounts which we believed “would be found to contain a
very moderate statement of the Tyrant’s losses”; but we own our most
sanguine hopes have been exceeded by the Official Statements received
yesterday by Government, and made public; first, in a brief form, by
a letter from Lord CASTLEREAGH to the LORD MAYOR, and a Bulletin from
the Foreign Office; and, afterwards, in most gratifying detail, by an
_Extraordinary Gazette_.’

The ‘Morning Post’ of the same date heads the intelligence as ‘The most
Glorious and Important News ever received;’ and the Prince Regent, who
opened Parliament on November 4, alluded to it in his speech in these
terms: ‘The annals of Europe afford no examples of victories more
splendid, and decisive, than those which have been recently achieved in
Saxony.’ London was brilliantly illuminated, and joy reigned throughout
the kingdom.

One of the first caricatures on the subject is the ‘Execution of two
celebrated Enemies of Old England, and their Dying Speeches, 5 Nov.
1813,’ which was by Rowlandson (published November 27, 1813), and is
stated to be a representation of a ‘Bonfire at Thorpe Hall near Louth,
Lincolnshire, on 5 Nov. 1813, given by the Rev. W. C. to the boys
belonging to the Seminary at Louth, in consequence of the arrival of
news of the Decisive Defeat of Napoleon Buonaparte, by the Allies, at
11 o’clock on y^e 4th, & Louth Bells ringing all night.’

Guy Faux, who is got up like one of the old watchmen, is swinging on
one gallows, and Napoleon, in traditional costume, on another, with a
roaring bonfire under him. Men, women, and boys are rejoicing around.
‘Guy Faux’s Dying Speech. I, Guy Faux, meditating my Country’s ruin,
by the clandestine, and diabolical, means of the Gunpowder plot, was
most fortunately discovered, and brought to condign punishment, by
Old England, and here I bewail my fate.’ ‘Napoleon Buonaparte’s Dying
Speech. I, Napoleon Buonaparte, flattered by all the French Nation that
I was invincible, have most cruelly, and most childishly, attempted
the subjugation of the world. I have lost my fleets, I have lost the
largest, and the finest, armies ever heard of, and I am now become the
indignation of the world, and the scorn, and sport, of boys. Had I
not spurned the firm wisdom of the Right Hon. W^m Pitt, I might have
secured an honourable Peace, I might have governed the greatest Nation;
but, alas, my ambition has deceived me, and Pitt’s plans have ruined

Rowlandson drew a ‘Copy of the Transparency exhibited at Ackermann’s
Repository of Arts, During the Illuminations of the 5th and 6th of
November 1813, in honour of the splendid victories obtained by the
Allies over the Armies of France, at Leipsig and its Environs.

    ‘The Two Kings of Terror.

    ‘This Subject, representing the two Tyrants, viz. the Tyrant
    _Bonaparte_, and the Tyrant _Death_, sitting together on the
    Field of Battle, in a manner which promises a more perfect
    intimacy immediately to ensue, is very entertaining. It is also
    very instructing to observe, that the former is now placed in
    a situation, in which all Europe _may see through him_. The
    emblem, too, of the circle of light from mere _vapour_, which
    is so soon _extinguished_, has a good moral effect; and as the
    Gas represents the dying flame, so does the Drum, on which
    he is seated, typify the _hollow_, and _noisy_ nature of the
    falling Usurper.

    ‘The above description of the subject, appeared in the _Sun_
    of Saturday, the 6th of November. These pointed comments
    arose from the picture being transparent, and from a circle,
    indicative of the strength, and brotherly union, of the Allies,
    which surmounted the same, composed of _gas_[31] of brilliant

‘Cossack Sports--or the Platoff Hunt in full cry after French Game’
(November 9, 1813), shows Leipsic in the background, and the river
Elster, into which the Cossacks, plunge, in full cry, after the
‘Corsican Fox.’ The Hetman, Platoff, cries, ‘Hark forward! my boys,
get along! he runs in view--Yoics, Yoics--There he goes--Tally ho!’
His daughter, about whom the story is told (see footnote p. 148), is
in mid stream, lashing her horse, and calling out, ‘Hi! ho! Tally ho!
For a husband!’ An army of French frogs in vain attempt to stop the
Cossacks--they are routed, and fleeing.

A very cleverly drawn caricature is ‘Caterers--Boney Dished--a Bonne
Bouche for Europe’ (November 10, 1813), and it gives us the sovereigns
of Europe seated around a table, on which is a large dish, in the
centre of which poses Napoleon, surrounded with a garnish of his
marshals, seated, and with their hands tied behind them. The different
sovereigns express their opinions upon the dish. Thus Russia says, ‘I
think Brother of Austria, this dish will be relish’d by all Europe.’
‘And I think Brother of Russia they will admire the _garnish_!’ ‘Pray
let Wurtemburg join in that dish.’ ‘And Bavaria, if you please.’
Holland thinks that ‘Donder and Blikins, dat dish will please mein
Vrow.’ Poland says, ‘It is rather too highly seasoned for my taste, but
French.’ The Switzer opines that ‘William Tell never invented a better
dish, I hope we shall have a taste of it!’ Italy swears ‘By the God of
Love! that is better dish den Maccaroni.’ With tears streaming down
his face, a poor monarch prays, ‘Oh dear! oh dear! I hope they won’t
Dish the poor old King of Saxony.’ Prussia remarks to England, ‘We must
reduce the quantity of irritating articles, before we can produce it as
a finished dish--What say you Steward of the Feast?’ who replies, ‘I
agree with your Highness, John Bull prefers moderation.’

On November 10, 1813, was published ‘The Daw Stript of his Borrow’d
Plumes, _vide Gay’s Fables of the Daw and the other Birds_,’ which
shows the different birds despoiling the poor Daw, Napoleon. The
double-headed eagle, Russia, with one beak strips him of his Legion
of Honour, the other head takes off his crown. Austria, Prussia, and
Sweden are rapidly denuding him of his borrowed plumes; whilst Spain,
Poland, and Bohemia are hovering around. The background is taken up
with a Cossack spitting runaway Frenchmen on his lance.


Rowlandson gives us (November 25, 1813) ‘A Long pull, a Strong pull,
and a pull altogether.’ Here we see the allies’ ships riding freely
on the ocean, the sun of tyranny setting, and the allies giving all
their strength in helping to float the Texel fleet, which the Dutch are
assisting them to launch. Napoleon and his brother Joseph are in the
background, the former dancing with rage, and crying out, ‘Oh Brother
Joe--I’m all Fire. My Passion eats me up. Such unlooked for storms of
ill fall on me. It beats down all my cunning, I cannot bear it. My ears
are filled with noise, my eyes grow dim, and feeble shakings seize
every Limb.’ Joseph, whose crown has dropped off, says, ‘Oh Brother
Nap, brother Nap, we shan’t be left with half a crown apiece!’


‘The Corsican toad under a harrow’ (Rowlandson, November 27, 1813)
also alludes to the defection of Holland, the agonised Emperor calling
out, ‘Oh, this heavy Dutchman! O’ had I enough to bear before!!!’


Rowlandson gives us (November 29, 1813) ‘Dutch Nightmare, or the
Fraternal Hug, returned with a Dutch Squeeze,’ which represents
Napoleon lying on a state bed, suffering the tortures of nightmare, his
incubus being a very heavy Dutchman, who sits upon his breast calling
out, ‘Orange Boven,’ and puffing his smoke right into the face of his

Mr. Grego credits Rowlandson with the ‘Head Runner of Runners from
Leipsic Fair’ (March 2, 1814), but both the design and drawing
manifestly show that it is not by him. On the contrary, its internal
evidence clearly shows it to be a German engraving, and much earlier in
date, the town in the background being labelled Maynz. Napoleon is here
represented as a running courier, and the speed at which he is going
is shown by his being able to keep pace with a hare. The top of his
staff is Charlemagne--or, as in the etching, Carolus Magnus. In his
rapid flight he is losing from his wallet all the things entrusted to
him--Italy, Holland, Switzerland, the Rheinbund, &c.


His flight from Leipsic was well caricatured, and one episode, the
premature blowing up of the bridge over the Elster, came in for severe
comment. Colonel Montfort had orders to blow up the bridge, which was
mined, as soon as the last of the troops had passed over. He, however,
entrusted this duty to a corporal and four miners. The corporal,
hearing shouting and cannonading, thought the allies were in possession
of the city and pursuing the French forces. He therefore fired the
bridge, which blew up, cutting off the retreat of four _corps d’armée_,
and more than 200 cannon. Of course, the men so circumstanced had no
option but to yield themselves as prisoners, after many had been driven
into the river and drowned.

  At Dresden still our hero staid,
  Because to budge he was afraid,
  And when he did, it was to meet
  At Leipsic, a severe defeat:
  The bridge here, as the story goes,
  Nap wished to blow up with his foes;
  This to a col’nel he imparted,
  Who was, perhaps, too tender hearted.
  For to a captain, (so we’ve heard)
  The Colonel the task transferred,
  And he a corporal employ’d,
  By whom the bridge should be destroy’d;
  But scarce had Nap the bridge passed thro’,
  When, helter skelter, up it flew!
  It seems the truth cannot be traced;
  Either the corp’ral was in haste,
  Or by some means, ’tis suspected,
  ’Twas just as Boney had directed;
  For the Explosion soon confounded
  His waggon loads of sick and wounded:
  And by these means, as oft he did,
  He got of them immediate rid.


‘Bonaparte’s Bridge, to the Tune of This is the House that Jack built’
(December 1, 1813), supposed to be drawn by _la Nourrice du Roi de
Rome_, is in eight compartments, which are thus described:--

  This is the bridge that was blown into air.

  These are the Miners who had the care
  Of mining the Bridge that was blown into air.

  This is the Corporal stout and strong,
  Who fired the Mine with his match so long,
  Which was made by the Miners, &c.

  This is the Colonel of Infantry,
  Who ordered the Corporal stout and strong
  To fire the Mine, &c.

  This is the Marshall of high degree
  Who whispered the Colonel of Infantry
  To order the Corporal, &c.

  This is the Emperor who scampered away,
  And left the Marshall of high degree
  To whisper the Colonel, &c.

  These be the thousands who cursed the day,
  Which made him an Emperor, who scampered away, &c.

  These are the Monarchs so gen’rous and brave,
  Who conquer’d the Tyrant, and Liberty gave,
  To thousands & thousands who cursed the day, &c.



‘Grasp all Lose all--_Atlas_ enraged--or the punishment of unqualified
ambition’ is the title of a picture (December 1, 1813) which represents
Atlas, who is kneeling down, preparing to drop the whole world on
Napoleon. The latter, who has been touching those parts of the earth
which are in his possession, and boasting, ‘France be mine! Holland be
mine! Italy be mine! Spain and Poland be mine! Russ, Prussia, Turky, de
whole world vil be mine!!!!’ staggers back, exclaiming, ‘Mons. Atlas,
hold up, dont let it fall on me.’ Atlas, whose look is fearful, says,
‘When the Friends of Freedom, and Peace, have stopped your shaking it
on my shoulders, and got their own again, I’ll bear it. Till then you
may carry it yourself, Master Boney.’ Russia and Prussia are rushing
away in fright. Says one, ‘By Gar ’tis true, ’tis fall on you Head!
votre Serviteur! we no stop to be crush vid you.’

This very clever caricature portrait of Napoleon was published by
Ackermann, 101 Strand, on December 1, 1813. It is in the form of a
broadside, and contains the following letterpress:--


    NAPOLEON the FIRST and LAST, by the wrath of Heaven Emperor
    of the Jacobins, Protector of the Confederation of Rogues,
    Mediator of the Hellish League, Grand Cross of the Legion of
    Horror, Commander in Chief of the Legions of Skeletons left
    at Moscow, Smolensk, Leipzig, &c. Head Runner of Runaways,
    Mock High-Priest of the Sanhedrim, Mock Prophet of Mussulmen,
    Mock Pillar of the Christian Faith, Inventor of the Syrian
    Method of disposing of his own sick by sleeping Draughts, or
    of captured enemies by the Bayonet; First Grave Digger for
    burying alive; Chief Gaoler of the Holy Father and of the King
    of Spain, Destroyer of Crowns, and Manufacturer of Counts,
    Dukes, Princes, and Kings; Chief Douanier of the Continental
    System, Head Butcher of the Parisian, and Toulouese, Massacres,
    Murderer of Hofer, Palm, Wright, nay of his own Prince, the
    noble and virtuous Duke of Enghien, and of a thousand others;
    Kidnapper of Ambassadors, High Admiral of the Invasion Praams,
    Cup Bearer of the Jaffa Poison, Arch Chancellor of Waste paper
    Treaties, Arch Treasurer of the Plunder of the World, the
    sanguinary Coxcomb, Assassin, and Incendiary ... to MAKE PEACE

    This Hieroglyphic Portrait of the DESTROYER is faithfully
    copied from a German Print, with the Parody of his assumed
    Titles. The Hat of the Destroyer represents a discomfited
    French Eagle, maimed and crouching, after his Conflict with the
    Eagles of the North. His _visage_ is composed of the Carcases
    of the Victims of his Folly and Ambition, who perished on the
    plains of Russia and Saxony. His throat is encircled with the
    _Red Sea_, in allusion to his Drowned Hosts. His Epaulette
    is a _Hand_, leading the Rhenish Confederation, under the
    flimsy Symbol of a _Cobweb_. The _Spider_ is an Emblem of the
    Vigilance of the Allies, who have inflicted on that Hand a
    deadly Sting!

‘The Corsican Munchausen humming[32] the Lads of Paris’ (Rowlandson,
December 4, 1813) shews Napoleon and his son on a stage, upon which
is a throne, tottering, and an overthrown globe. The King of Rome is
dressed in counterpart of his father, with long trailing sword, and
using a stick as a _cockhorse_. Napoleon is vapouring to the assembled
audience: ‘Did I not swear I would destroy Austria? Did I not swear
I would destroy Prussia? Did I not leave the Russians 1200 pieces of
cannon to build a monument of the victory of Moscow? Did I not lead
498,000 men to gather fresh laurels in Russia. Did I not burn Moscow
and leave 400,000 brave soldiers to perish in the snow for the good of
the French Nation? Did I not swear I would destroy Sweden? Did I not
swear I would have Colonies and Commerce? Did I not build more ships
than you could find sailors for? Did I not burn all the British Produce
bought, and paid for, by my faithful merchants, before their faces, for
the good of them, and my good people of Paris? Have I not called my
troops from Holland, that they might not winter in that foggy Climate?
Have I not called my troops from Spain, and Portugal, to the ruin of
the English? Did I not change my religion, and turn Turk, for the good
of the French Nation? Have I not blown up the Corporal for blowing up
the Bridge? Have I not robbed the Churches of twenty flags to send to
my Empress, for the loss of my own flags and Eagles? And now, for the
good of my Empire, Behold! O ye Lads of Paris! I have put the _King of
Rome_ in _breeches_.’

Rowlandson gives us ‘Funcking[33] the Corsican’ (December 6, 1813).
A representation of all the crowned heads of Europe, each of whom is
smoking a pipe very vigorously, uniting in tormenting Bonaparte with
their tobacco smoke. The little Corsican, who is on the top of a cask
of ‘Real Hollands Geneva,’ is dancing with rage, and yells out: ‘Oh
you base Traitors and Deserters, Eleven Hundred Thousand Lads of Paris
shall roast every one of you as soon as they can catch you!’ In his
excitement he has split the head of the cask, and there seems every
probability of his disappearing. ‘The fly that sips, is lost in the

‘The Mock Phœnix!!! or a vain attempt to rise again’ is by Rowlandson
(December 10, 1813). Napoleon is in a furnace, which is being
diligently stoked and blown by Russia and Holland. Serpents come from
the mouth of the furnace, and the soots, the products of combustion,
take the form of fiends--Napoleon is partially consumed, and his crown
is in a blaze.

‘Friends or Foes--Up he goes--Sending the Corsican Munchausen to St.
Clouds’ is by Rowlandson (December 12, 1813), and shows the whole of
the sovereigns of Europe combining to toss Napoleon in a blanket.

A most amusing caricature by Rowlandson (December 14, 1813) is
‘Political Chemists and German Retorts, or dissolving the Rhenish
confederacy.’ John Bull naturally finds coal for a ‘German Stove,’
the fire in which a Dutchman blows with a pair of bellows. All the
sovereigns of Europe stand round, enjoying Boney’s discomfiture. The
Emperor, who is vainly appealing to them, ‘Oh spare me till the King
of Rome is ripe for mischief yet to come,’ is being put into a glass
receiver, and is about to be covered up. Bernadotte is pouring in a
bottle of sulphate of Swedish iron, and the Pope is hurrying forward
with two bottles, one of fulminating powder, the other a vial of wrath.
The products being distilled from him are Intrigue and Villainy,
Ambition and Folly, Gasconade and Lies, Fire and Sword, Arrogance
and Atrocity, Murder and Plunder. A Spaniard is pounding at a mortar
inscribed ‘Saragossa.’

In ‘Town Talk’ (December 1, 1813) is published ‘Gasconading--alias the
Runaway Emperor Humbugging the Senate.

  Some are Short and some are Tall,
  But it’s very well known that he hums them all,
  And then sings fal de ral tit.’

Napoleon crowned, and _en grande tenue_, stands before the throne,
pointing to some trophies borne by soldiers, and thus addresses the
Senate: ‘Senators! the glorious success of our Arms has forced me
to give way to the impulse of quitting the field of honour, that I
might have the satisfaction of presenting to my faithful Senate the
glorious trophies of our Victories. Senators! your restless, envious
enemies shall be humbled to the dust; your Emperor wills it so; this
Arrogant Confederacy shall be punished for their temerity, and our
brave Soldiers shall repose in peace. Senators! for this purpose I
shall require the small sum of 250,000,000, a sum the flourishing state
of our finance will easily produce, and, to replace the vacancy made in
my Army, 500,000 (men) from the conscription of 4 years to come will be
all that I demand. Frenchmen, the Will of your Emperor, and the glory
of the great Nation, requires it.’ The Devil, peeping round from behind
the throne, applauds: ‘That’s right my Boy. Humbug them out of another
conscription to send me, before you come yourself.’

One Senator, as spokesman, thus addresses Napoleon: ‘Great Emperor of
the Great Nation, the Senate devotes the lives and property of the
People to your service.’ But this does not appear to be the universal
consensus of opinion; for one grumbles, ‘C’est dire un peu trop, cela!’
Another asks: ‘What has he done with the last Grand Army, that he
wants so many again?’ and one replies: ‘They are gone to see how their
friends in Russia do.’ Another doubts the authenticity of the trophies:
‘Why! these trophies belong to our Allies, c’est drôle cela!’

On December 12, 1813, George Cruikshank published ‘Bleeding and Warm
Water! or the Allied Doctors bringing Boney to his Senses.’ Here
poor Boney is in very evil case. With shaven head, and in an ‘Allied
strait waistcoat’ (one sleeve of which is held by Russia, the other by
Poland), he is seated on the stool of Repentance in a tub of hot water,
consisting of a ‘sea of troubles,’ which is warmed by the flames of
Moscow. He is surrounded by all the European sovereigns as doctors,
each of whom prescribes his own remedy. Russia gives, as his opinion:
‘I have found a constant application of this Russian _Knout_ to work
wonders!!’ John Bull is giving him a fearful bolus, ‘Invasion of
France,’ saying at the same time, ‘Work away my Masters, I’ll pay you
your _fees_. Ay, ay, rave and rant, Master Boney, but the Devil will
_Bone_ you at last.’ Holland is trying ‘what _Dutch drops_ will do,’
by emptying out of a huge cannon a legion of armed Dutchmen on his
shaven head. Poland bleeds him by stabbing his arm with a lance, and
Prussia catches the blood in a ‘Crown bowl,’ congratulating himself, ‘I
think my _Crown_ Razors have shaved his _Crown_ pretty close.’ Spain
is applying a plaster to his back: ‘Here is a Plaster of Spanish flies
for him.’ Poor Boney, one of whose legs is in the hot water, resists
this treatment as far as possible, and yells out, ‘Hence with your
Medicines--they but drive me Mad. Curse on your _Dutch Drops_, your
_Leipsig Blister_, and your _Spanish flies_; they have fretted me to
what I am. D--n your _Cossack Lancets_, they have drained my veins, and
rendered me poor and vulnerable indeed--Oh! how I am fallen--But I will
still struggle--I will still be great--Myriads of Frenchmen still shall
uphold the glory of my name, the grandeur of my Throne, and write my
disgrace in the hearts of ye--ye wretched creatures of English gold.’

‘The Head of the Great Nation in a Queer Situation,’ by G. Cruikshank
(December 1813), shows frightened Bonaparte, his magic wand broken,
surrounded by his enemies. Wellington points a huge blunderbuss at
him, telling the others to ‘Take a good aim at the Head, gentlemen,
and we shall soon settle the business.’ Austria, Prussia, and Russia
all point pistols at his head. Prussia thinks that ‘by Gar, we shall
make de Head look like de Plumb Pudding;’ and Russia says, ‘I’ll rattle
a few Snow balls at his Cranium.’ Holland has a cannon which he is
filling with bales of Orange Boven, saying, ‘I’ll deal out my oranges
to him wholesale.’ From the heavens, the hand of Justice is putting
the ‘Allied Extinguisher’ upon him. This picture is copied bodily from
a French caricature, ‘Le Chef de la Grande Nation dans une triste

On December 25, 1813, was published one of Rowlandson’s caricatures
called the ‘Mock Auction--or Boney selling Stolen Goods.’ There
is an announcement that ‘speedily will be sold the 13 cantons of
Switzerland,’ and, among the property he has for sale, are the Papal
Tiara, and several crowns, a lot of useless eagles, the kingdom of
Bavaria, twenty flags the property of the Empress, the kingdom of
Prussia, Saxony, kingdom of Westphalia, and the United Provinces. Some
French officers are among the audience, which includes the crowned
heads of Europe. The crown of Spain is on sale, and is lifted upon high
for inspection. Spain jeeringly asks: ‘That a Crown? It’s not worth
half a crown.’ Napoleon, seeing no chance of selling it, says: ‘What!
no bidding for the Crown of Spain. Then take the other crowns and lump
them into one lot.’ Maria Louisa carries the King of Rome, who is like
a little monkey, and who exclaims: ‘I suppose daddy will put us up for



This ends the caricatures for the year 1813, at the close of which
Napoleon was in Paris. Wellington and Soult were fighting their
prolonged duel in Spain, to the great advantage of the former. One
after another did the French garrisons surrender, until, at the
close of the year, Santona alone remained to the French. His troops,
shut up in garrison in Germany and Prussia, were in very evil case,
from hardships and sickness. St. Cyr abandoned Dresden, and all the
garrison were made prisoners of war. Stettin surrendered, and the Dutch
revolted; whilst at home the life-blood of the nation was being drained
by a new conscription of 300,000 men, and the taxes were increased by
one half.

And here, as well as at any other place, I may introduce Napoleon’s
familiar spirit, ‘_l’Homme Rouge_.’ The belief in ‘the red man,’ in
connection with the Emperor, was very widely spread; but details of his
personal appearance, and the times of his visits, are rarely to be met
with, and are invariably contradictory. Napoleon’s success had been so
marvellous, that it is easily to be imagined it was popularly ascribed
to supernatural agency.

In a small and very rare French book,[34] is an account of ‘_The
little red and green men, or the genius of Evil triumphing over the
genius of Good_. Many persons, astonished at the success of Buonaparte
in all which he undertook, asked by what tutelary divinity he was

‘Some said, It is Europe which is being destroyed by itself, an effect
natural to every country, over-populated, and too flourishing--Was it
not thus with Egypt, Greece, Judea, and Rome? Others, less philosophic,
but easier given to conjecture, said, When he was in Egypt he several
times absented himself from his staff.--Somebody generally came to him
before he fought a battle, or undertook any enterprise.

‘He frequently repeated, _God has given me the strength and the will
to overcome all obstacles_. There was something supernatural ... and
thenceforth endless questions were asked of those who were with him in
the Egyptian expedition. At length, by dint of research, a part of the
truth was discovered, which is as follows:--

‘On the eve of the battle of the Pyramids, Buonaparte, at the council
which was held in the morning, formally opposed the proposition to give
battle. In the afternoon of that day, having gone, with some of the
officers of his suite, to make a reconnaissance, and having approached
one of the monuments of the pride of the Pharaohs,[35] he suddenly saw,
coming out from it, a little man clothed in a long red robe, his head
being adorned with a pointed cap of the same colour, after the manner
of the priests of Isis, or the Chaldean sages, known under the name of
Magi. He carried a little ring in his hand.

‘This mysterious man only said these words to him: “Approach, young
man, and learn the high destinies to which you are called, if you wish
to be prudent and wise.”

‘Immediately, Buonaparte, as if he had been drawn by a supernatural
force, descended from his horse, and followed him into the interior of
the pyramid, where he remained more than an hour.

‘The officers of his suite, at first, paid little attention to this
_rencontre_, taking the red man to be one of those charlatans,
with which the world abounds, to the detriment of science and real
knowledge; they were even astonished that their general, to whom they
accorded so much merit, lost precious time in interviewing a wretched
cheat; but, when they saw Buonaparte come out, all radiant with joy,
saying to them, “Friends, let us give battle; we shall conquer!” and
when they saw, that in spite of the inferiority of their forces, they
should gain the most complete victory, they could only think of _the
red man_. Is he a God? Is he a Genius? That was what they asked.

‘Thenceforth the French, in Egypt, only marched from victory to
victory, until the departure of Napoleon for France.

‘We believe that all the deeds with which _the red man_ has been
credited are only fables which conjecturors have invented; but, at
least, in him they discover the emblem of a good Genius, who pointed
out to Buonaparte what he ought to do to assure at least the love and
gratitude of the people. But an evil Genius, whom they suppose to have
been clothed in green, appeared to him at St. Cloud, at the time of
the 18th Brumaire, and gave him counsels, which prevailed, for the
misfortune of the world, over those of _the red man_, and led him to
his ruin.’

Balzac, in a delicious booklet,[36] in which an old soldier gives the
history of his beloved Emperor, makes him say, ‘There is one thing
which it would be unjust, if I did not tell you: In Egypt, in the
Desert, near Syria, THE RED MAN appeared to him, in the mountain of
Moses, to tell him, “All went well.”

‘Then at Marengo, on the evening of the Victory, he saw, standing
before him, the Red Man, who said to him:

‘“Thou shalt see the world at thy feet, and thou shalt be Emperor of
the French, King of Italy, Master of Holland, Sovereign of Spain,
Portugal, the Illyrian Provinces, Protector of Germany, Saviour of
Poland, First Eagle of the Legion of Honour.”

‘This Red Man, do you see, was his idea, his own: a kind of lackey, who
helped him, as many say, to communicate with his star. I, myself, have
never believed that but the Red Man is a veritable fact, and Napoleon
has spoken of him himself, and has said that he visits him in troublous
moments, and that he stays at the palace of the Tuileries, in the upper
apartments. Then at his Coronation, Napoleon saw him, in the evening,
for the third time, and they were in deliberation about many things.
Then the Emperor went straight to Milan to crown himself King of

‘At length we found ourselves, one morning, encamped at Moskowa.[37]
It was there that I gained the Cross, and I take the liberty of saying
that it was a cursed battle! The Emperor was uneasy: he had seen the
Red Man, who said to him:

‘“My child, thou art going too fast, men will fail thee, and friends
will betray thee.”’

And the old soldier, almost at the end of his story, says, ‘The
remainder is sufficiently well known. The Red Man passed over to the
Bourbons, like a scoundrel, as he is. France is crushed,’ &c.

It is needless to say that this legend was known in England, and was
not lost sight of by the satirist.


  Poor Bonaparte, now, every day,
  Endeavoured to be wondrous gay;
  To concerts, plays, and balls, he went,
  To hide, it seems, his discontent.
  Folks thought hostilities would cease,
  For gaiety’s a sign of peace.
  But soon, alas! returned his gloom,
  And now our hero kept his room.
  One day he wish’d to be alone,
  And said he was at home to none,
  When suddenly there came a knock,
  Which dealt around a dreadful shock--
  His counsellor of State, ’tis said,
  Saw a tall man dressed all in red!
  ‘Your business, Sir?’--‘A secret that--
  I must see Bonaparte, that’s flat’--
  ‘He’s not at home,’ was the reply,
  The red man answer’d--‘that’s a lie!’
  The Counsellor to Boney ran,
  Apprising Nap of this red man--
  How very great the Emp’ror’s dread--
  ‘Art sure? and was he dress’d in red?’
  Affecting then a kind of grin--
  ‘No matter--shew the red man in.’
  The red man, tho’, as people say,
  Ne’er waited to be shewn the way,
  For in he bolted--and, what’s more,
  Immediately he clos’d the door--
  The Counsellor of State, so shock’d
  His ear, then, at the keyhole cock’d,
  And tho’ the red, tall, man he fear’d,
  This conversation he o’erheard--
  ‘Well, Emp’ror Boney--pray how do you?
  This is my third appearance to you,
  At Egypt once--next at Wagram--
  You must remember who I am.’
  ‘Yes, I remember, but what is it
  Has now induced this sudden visit?’
  ‘What is it! Nap, how can you ask?
  Have you accomplish’d, pray, your task?
  Four years, I for that purpose granted,
  It was the very time you wanted;
  And then I said--and say it now--
  No longer time wou’d I allow;
  ’Twas quite sufficient, as you said,
  And solemnly a vow you made,
  That either Europe you’d subdue,
  Or peace shou’d in that time ensue;
  I told you, if I tricks foresaw,
  That my protection I’d withdraw,
  And therefore am I come again
  To tell you but three months remain;
  If Europe then, you have not got,
  Or peace confirm’d--you’ll go to _pot_.’
  Our hero seem’d quite panic struck,
  ‘Alas!’ said he, ‘I’ve had no luck--
  I can’t in three months undertake
  An honourable peace to make--
  A longer period, therefore, fix,
  Let the three months, I pray, be six.’
  ‘It cannot be--I’ll grant no more’--
  Nap followed him unto the door--
  ‘Five months, I’m sure, you may allow’--
  ‘I won’t--mark well your sacred vow,
  One or the other you must do--
  Or else, depend on it you’ll rue.’
  ‘Then grant _four_ months.’--‘It cannot be--
  Conquer, or be at peace, in _three_--
  Such was the task you undertook’--
  Then giving a contemptuous look,
  ‘_Three months_--no longer--so good-bye’--
  He said--nor waited a reply.
  With indignation Boney burn’d,
  While to his cab’net he return’d--
  And there, as many people say,
  He sullenly remain’d all day.

The English gave Napoleon the character of being very superstitious,
and I believe, even now, ‘Napoleon’s Book of Fate,’ and ‘Napoleon’s
Dream Book,’ are procurable.

In 1795 it is said that Napoleon paid a visit to a sorcerer named
Pierre le Clerc, and expressed some doubt of his power. ‘You are
wrong,’ said the magician, ‘to doubt my art. I know more than you
probably imagine. There was a prophecy of a certain Count Cagliostro,
uttered ten years ago, on the French Revolution, which was not then
thought of. This announced that a Corsican voted or elected by the
people, would finish it, probably by a Dictatorship.’ Napoleon left the
old man, and, it is said, did not visit him again until the eve of the
fateful 18th Brumaire.

The seer gave him a number of cards, on each of which he was to write
one letter of the question he wanted to ask, which was: ‘What will
become of the Corsican Napoleon Bonaparte, general, on account of the
_Coup d’Etat_ risked by him, at Paris, the 18th Brumaire, 1799?’ These
cards were well mixed and handed to the conjurer, who, after some
manipulation, settled on thirteen cards, having the letters B, O, P,
P, I, A, I, B, I, P, A, U, F, each of which letters he interpreted as
the commencement of a Latin word; and, on this basis, he constructed
the following sentence: ‘Bis Oriens, Populi Princeps, In Altum Incedit;
Bis Incidit; Per Anglos Ultima Fata,’--or, He rises twice Prince of the
People, and hovers over the heights; twice he falls; his last fatality
will come from the English.

Napoleon then took fresh cards, and wrote: ‘Josephine Marie Rose
de Tascher de la Pagerie, wife of the General Napoleon Bonaparte.’
Of these Pierre le Clerc selected three letters, H, E, A, which he
interpreted as ‘Herois Extinctus Amor,’--or, Love extinguishes itself
in the heart of a hero.

There was a curious article in the ‘Frankfurter Journal’ of September
21, 1870, on the influence of the letter M on the life of Napoleon:
‘Marbeuf was the first to recognise the genius of Napoleon at the
Military College. Marengo was the first great battle won by General
Bonaparte, and Melas made room for him in Italy. Mortier was one of
his best generals, Moreau betrayed him, and Marat was the first martyr
to his cause. Maria Louisa shared his highest fortunes; Moscow was the
abyss of ruin into which he fell. Metternich vanquished him in the
field of diplomacy. Six marshals (Massena, Mortier, Marmont, Macdonald,
Murat, Moncey) and twenty-six generals of division under Napoleon had
the letter M for their initial. Marat, Duke of Bassano, was his most
trusted counsellor. His first battle was that of Montenotte, his last
Mont St. Jean, as the French term Waterloo. He won the battles of
Millesimo, Mondovi, Montmirail, and Montereau; then came the storming
of Montmartre. Milan was the first enemy’s capital, and Moscow the
last, into which he entered victorious. He lost Egypt through Menou,
and employed Miellis to take Pius VII. prisoner. Mallet conspired
against him; Murat was the first to desert him, then Marmont. Three
of his ministers were Maret, Montalivet, and Mallieu; his first
chamberlain was Montesquieu. His last halting place in France was
Malmaison. He surrendered to Captain Maitland of the _Bellerophon_, and
his companions at St. Helena were Montholon and his valet Marchand.’



On January 1, 1814, Rowlandson published ‘The double humbug, or the
Devil’s Imp praying for peace,’ a picture in two parts. One represents
Napoleon addressing the Senate from his throne, which stands on divers
crowns: his friend, the Devil, being perched a-top. A soporific effect
among his audience seems to be the outcome of his address, which is
as follows: ‘_Extracts of Bonyparty’s Speech, Sunday, 19 December,
1813._ Senators, Counsellors of State, Deputies from the Department to
the Legislative Body. Splendid Victories have raised the Glory of the
French Arms, during the Campaign. In these weighty circumstances, it
was my first thought to call you around me. I have never been seduced
by prosperity. I have conceived and executed great designs for the
Prosperity and the happiness of the world, as a monarch and a father. I
feel that Peace adds to the security of Thrones and that of Families.
I have accepted proposals, and the preliminaries. It is necessary to
recruit my armies by numerous Levies, and an increase of Taxes becomes
indispensable--I am satisfied with the sentiment of my people of Italy,
Denmark, Naples, America, and the nineteen Swiss cantons; and have
acknowledged the laws which England has, in vain, sought, during four
centuries, to impose on France--I have ordered discharges of Artillery
on my coming and leaving you.’

The other portion of the picture shows the powers of Europe, before
whom Napoleon kneels, surrendering colours and crowns; all, save one
of the latter (the French crown), and this he tucks under his arm.
His deportment is abject, as is his speech: ‘Gentlemen, Emperors,
Kings, Rhenish Confederations, &c., &c., &c. Behold unto you a fallen
Impostor, who has for many years been drunk, and intoxicated, with
Ambition, Arrogance, and Insolence, who has foolishly and wickedly lost
within a twelve Months, a Million of brave but deluded Frenchmen. Who
has conceived the great and diabolical design of enslaving the world,
and has lost all his friends except Yankee Maddison. Now, Gentlemen, to
make amends for my sins, I solicit your pardon, and ask for Peace, on
your own Terms, Gentlemen, and I will strictly adhere to all ********
You may take all those Crowns back again, except the one belonging
to the Bourbons. My Empress sends you also back the 20 flags I found
in some of the Churches, in the course of my flight from Leipsig.
As for the story, Gentlemen, of the Corporal and the blowing up the
bridge, you must know ’twas a mere Humbug to gull the Lads of Paris.’
Talleyrand also assures the crowned heads, that ‘What my Master has
said is true, so help me G--d. Amen.’

On January 21, 1814, Napoleon once more set out from Paris at the head
of an army, and in this month he fought at Saint-Dizier, Brienne,
Champ-Aubert, Montmirail, Chateau-Thierry-Nangis, and Montereau, but
then the French arms were almost everywhere defeated. People could
discern the beginning of the end. Meanwhile the caricaturist was busy.

‘The Devil’s Darling’ is another by Rowlandson (March 12, 1814); but it
possesses no merit, except the very excellent likeness of Napoleon. He
is in swaddling clothes, and being dandled by the arch-fiend.

Wm. Elmes (the ‘W. E.’ of occasional caricatures) drew (March 21,
1814) ‘John Bull bringing Boney’s nose to the Grindstone’; but it
is not a new subject, as there is a contemporary caricature of the
Scots bringing Charles the Second’s nose to the grindstone. Russia is
turning the stone--the allied Powers looking on--and John Bull, who
is performing the operation, says: ‘Aye, Aye, Master Boney, I thought
I should bring you to it one of these days. You have carried on the
trade of grinding long enough, to the annoyance of your oppressed
neighbours--One good turn deserves another--Give him a Turn brother
Alexander--and let us see how he likes a taste.’

[Illustration: THE DEVIL’S DARLING.]

‘The Allied Bakers, or the Corsican Toad in the hole’ (April 1, 1814),
is taken bodily from a French caricature, ‘Le Tour des Alliés, ou
le Corse près à être cuit,’ although it bears on it ‘_G. H. inv^t
Cruickshank fecit_.’ The King of Prussia, Woronzow, and Blücher have
a baker’s peel, on which is a dish containing Boney, screaming,
‘Murder, Murder,’ as he is being put into the Allied Oven. Holland
sits on the floor blowing the fire. A Frenchman, whose fickleness is
shown by the weather-cock on his hat, is opening the oven door for
his former master’s destruction, saying: ‘This door sticks! I don’t
think I shall get it open!’ Blücher shouts, ‘Pull away Frank,[38] you
keep us waiting.’ Woronzow says, ‘In with it, Blucher,’ and the King
of Prussia’s opinion is, ‘I tell you what, Woronzow, the Hinges want
a little Russia Oil.’ Wellington, who is bearing a tray on which is a
Soult pie and a Bordeaux pie, shouts out, ‘Shove altogether, Gentlemen!
D--n me, shove door and all in.’

Meanwhile, the allied Austrian, Russian, and Prussian troops had
marched on to Paris, and, having defeated Marmont, March 30, 1814, the
city was virtually at their mercy. Maria Louisa and the young King of
Rome left Paris on March 29, and on the 31st the city capitulated, and
the Emperor of Russia and the King of Prussia entered the city with the
allied armies. The Emperor of Austria did not join them, probably out
of deference to his paternal feelings. The ‘Times’ of April 6, 1814,
thus gives the news of the capitulation:--‘Babylon the great is fallen!
Paris, the proud city, the city of philosophy, has bowed her neck to
the Conqueror.’

‘Boney forsaken by his Guardian Angel’ (April 3, 1814) shows the
Emperor kneeling, one crown already having been taken from him by the
arch-fiend, who now is taking another from off his head. The flames of
hell are prominent in the distance. Bonaparte implores--‘My Guardian
Angel, my Protector, do not desert me in the hour of Danger.’ But the
Devil, exultant, says, ‘Poh! Poh! you cannot expect to reign for ever;
besides I want you at home, to teach some of the young Imps wickedness.’

On April 3 the fickle French destroyed their idol, for the Provisional
Government declared Napoleon deposed, and his dynasty abolished.

On April 5 Bonaparte formally abdicated the throne of France; and, when
we consider how long he had troubled the peace of this country, we can
pardon the almost brutal exultation of the ‘Times’ of April 11:--

‘The most hateful of Tyrants has finished by proving himself the most
infamous of cowards.

‘Two _Extraordinary Gazettes_ were published on Saturday; the latter
of which contained BUONAPARTE’S renunciation of sovereignty, in the
following terms:--

    The Allied Powers having proclaimed that the Emperor NAPOLEON
    was the only obstacle to the re-establishment of the peace of
    Europe, the Emperor NAPOLEON, _faithful to his oath_, declares
    that he renounces for himself and his heirs, the Thrones of
    France and Italy; and that there is no _personal sacrifice_,
    even that of his life, which he is not ready to make in the
    interest of France.

            Done at the Palace of Fontainebleau the ---- April, 1814.

‘Thus has the last act of this wretch’s public life been marked by the
same loathsome hypocrisy which characterised him throughout his guilty
career. When he has been solemnly deposed by his own confederates;
when the execrations of all France, and of all Europe, are ringing
in his ears; when his last army is deserting him by thousands, and
an overwhelming force of the Allies is approaching, to drag him to a
shameful death, if he refuses the proffer’d mercy--then, forsooth,
his forced submission is a voluntary sacrifice, he is actuated by a
principle of public spirit, he feels a religious regard for his oath!!!

‘We did not think to have troubled our heads what should become of
him, or his worthless carcase--whether he should crawl about upon the
face of that earth, which he had so long desolated; or end a miserable
existence by his own desperate hand; or be helped out of the world by
the guillotine, the halter, or the _coup de grâce_. Certainly, if we
had to choose the finest moral lesson for after ages, we could not have
preferred any to that, which should at once expose the selfishness, the
baseness, and the cowardice of a vainglorious mortal, whom adulation
has raised almost to divine honours. And, as to any danger from his
life--why, _Jerry Sneak_ was a hero to him. Twice before, had he
run away from the field of battle--but that, in the opinions of his
besotted admirers, was profound imperial policy.

‘When he first attempted to act CROMWELL, unlike the tough old Puritan,
he had nearly fainted; but this was a transient qualm, that “overcame
him like a summer’s cloud;” and, besides,

  Men may tremble, and look paler,
  From too much, or too little valour.

‘The abandonment of his throne was an act of undisguised, deliberate
cowardice, not altogether unanticipated by us; for it will be
remembered that some months ago, in comparing the terms offered to
him by the Allies, with _Fluellen’s_ offer of the leek to ancient
_Pistol_, we said, that though he might vow “most horrible revenge,”
he would eat the leek. We had not then any reason to believe that he
would be required to yield up crown and all; but now that circumstances
have led to such a point, his conduct in respect to it occasions
us no surprise. That which displeases us, however, is, that in the
very document which ought to have contained nothing more than his
subscription to his own disgrace, he has been allowed to lay claim to
something like honour--to shuffle in a lying pretence to virtue. This
was not a time to indulge his vanity. The record of his punishment
ought rather to have referred to real crimes than to fictitious merits.’

The illuminations on this occasion were very splendid--but perhaps the
best of them all, as illustrating the popular feeling, was one which
was simply ‘Thank God.’

The following caricature must have been published before the news of
the abdication reached England.


‘Blücher the Brave extracting the groan of abdication from the
Corsican Bloodhound’ is by Rowlandson (April 9, 1814). The Prussian
general having stripped Bonaparte of his crown and uniform, &c., is
administering to him a sound shaking, whilst Louis the Eighteenth is
being welcomed by Talleyrand and the whole French nation.

‘The Corsican Shuttlecock, or a pretty Plaything for the Allies’ (April
10, 1814), is by G. Cruikshank. Napoleon is the shuttlecock, which
is kept in the air by Schwartzenberg and Blücher. The former has just
sent him to his comrade with--‘There he goes!! why Blücher! this used
to be rather a weighty plaything; but d---- me if it isn’t as light as
a feather now.’ Blücher replies, ‘Bravo Schwartzenberg, keep the game
alive! send him this way, and d---- him, I’ll drive him back again.’

‘Europe,’ by Timothy Lash ’em (April 11, 1814), gives us a pyramid
formed by all the States of that Continent. It is surrounded by clouds,
from whence issue the heads of Napoleon’s victims--‘Wright, Georges,
Pichegru, Moreau, Palm, and Hofer’--and on the summit of the pyramid,
planting the Bourbon flag, is the ghost of the Duc d’Enghien, who hurls
Napoleon into hell, where Robespierre and Marat are awaiting him.

  His operations Nap pursued,
  And frequently the troops reviewed.
  One day, the first of April too,
  Boney attended the review.
  He thought the soldiers still his own,
  Tho’ well the contrary was known.
  Some of the Generals, ’tis said,
  The Paris newspapers had read,
  And of the news, before the crowd,
  They talk’d together very loud.
  Our hero still retained his cheer,
  For he pretended not to hear.
  As soon as the review was done,
  Brave Marshal Ney (to have some fun,
  And let him know his fatal doom),
  Followed poor Boney to his room.--
  ‘In Paris there’s a revolution--
  You’ve heard of the new constitution.’
  Nap, seeming not to understand,
  Ney clapp’d the paper in his hand;
  He read, with evident attention,
  ’Twas gaining time tho’ for invention.
  Alas, poor Nap! ’tis as he feared--
  And like fall’n Wolsey he appear’d.
  Exactly the same scene indeed--
  _There is that paper for you--read:
  Then with what appetite you can--
  Go, eat your breakfast, my good man._
  Nap, spite of all, was very cool,
  Tho’ certainly an _April fool_:
  But great indeed was his vexation,
  When bade to sign his abdication;
  He looked aghast, he sigh’d, and trembled
  Before the Generals all assembled--
  Twas hard on Boney, we must own,
  Thus to renounce his crown and throne.
  How could he help it? for--oh Lord!
  There was a Cossack with a sword!
  To add to _brave_ Napoleon’s dread,
  There was a pistol at his head!
  So very furious look’d the men,
  Poor Nap could scarcely hold the pen.
  And when he did, so great his fright,
  His name poor Nap could scarcely write;
  At length, while he was sitting down,
  He sign’d--‘I ABDICATE MY CROWN.’


The scene, however, was not quite as the poet makes it out, but it
was bad enough, if we may credit Madame Junot: ‘We have read of the
revolutions of the seraglio: of those of the Lower Empire: of the
assassinations of Russia; we have seen the blood-stained crowns of
India given to vile eunuchs; but nothing in the pages of history
presents any parallel to what passed at Fontainebleau during the days,
and above all the nights, passed there by the hero, abandoned by
fortune, and surrounded by those whom he supposed to be his friends.
A thick veil was drawn over the event, for the principal actors in
it carefully concealed their baseness from the eye of the world. Few
persons are aware that Napoleon was doomed to death during the few days
which preceded his abdication, by a band of conspirators composed of
the most distinguished chiefs of the army.

‘“But,” said one of them in the council in which these demons discussed
their atrocious project, “what are we to do with him? There are two
or three among us, who, like Antony,[39] would exhibit their blood
stained robes to the people, and make us play the part of Cassius and
Brutus. I have no wish to see my house burned, and to be sent into
exile.” “Well,” said another, “we must leave no trace of him. He must
be sent to heaven like Romulus.” The others applauded, and then a most
horrible discussion commenced. It is not in my power to relate the
details. Suffice it to say that the Emperor’s death was proposed and
discussed for the space of an hour, with a degree of coolness which
might be expected among Indian savages armed with tomahawks. “But,”
said he who had spoken first, “we must come to some determination. The
Emperor of Russia is impatient. The month of April is advancing, and
nothing has been done. Now, for the last time, we will speak to him of
his abdication. He must sign it definitely--or----” A horrible gesture
followed the last word.

‘Yes, the life of Napoleon was threatened by those very men whom he
had loaded with wealth, honours, and favours; to whom he had given
lustre from this reflection of his own glory. Napoleon was warned of
the conspiracy, and it must have been the most agonising event of his
whole life. The torments of St. Helena were nothing in comparison with
what he must have suffered when a pen was presented to him by a man who
presumed to say, “Sign--if you wish to live.” If these last words were
not articulated, the look, the gesture, the inflection of the voice,
expressed more than the tongue could have uttered.’

How these rats left the falling house!--Berthier, with a lie on his
lips, promising to return, yet knowing full well he never meant to;
Constant, his valet, running away with 100,000 francs, and burying them
in the forest of Fontainebleau; and Rustan, the _faithful_ Mameluke,
running away to Paris. Is it not a sickening sight to see these pitiful
rogues deserting their master?

On April 11 the treaty of abdication was signed by the allies, and by
it Napoleon was to keep his title of Emperor, and have the sovereignty
of the Island of Elba, where, however, he must permanently reside. He
was guaranteed a revenue of 6,000,000 francs. Josephine and the other
members of the Emperor’s family were to have 2,000,000 francs divided
amongst them; and Maria Louisa and the King of Rome were to have the
Duchies of Parma, Placentia, and Guastalla.

But, when all was finished, he felt his position too hard to bear.
He would have recalled his abdication--but it was too late. Tom from
his high estate, separated from his wife and child, deserted by the
creatures of his bounty, life was not worth living for; existence was
wretched, and he tried to put an end to it by poison on the night of
April 12. Baron Fain, in ‘The Manuscript of 1814,’ gives a good account
of this occurrence, but not nearly as graphic as does Madame Junot:--

‘Throughout the day his conversation turned on subjects of the most
gloomy kind, and he dwelt much on suicide. He spoke so frequently on
the subject, that Marchand,[40] his first _valet de chambre_, and
Constant were struck with it. They consulted together, and both,
with common consent, removed from the Emperor’s chamber an Arabian
poniard, and the balls from his pistol-case. The Duke of Bassano had
also remarked this continued allusion to suicide, notwithstanding
his efforts to divert Napoleon’s thoughts from it. The Duke spoke to
Marchand, after he had taken leave of the Emperor, previous to retiring
to rest, and he expressed himself satisfied with the precautions which
had been taken. The Duke had been in bed some time, when he was awoke
by Constant, who came to him pale and trembling: “Monsieur le Duc,” he
exclaimed, “come immediately to the Emperor. His Majesty has been taken
very ill!” The Duke of Bassano immediately hurried to the bedside of
the Emperor, whom he found pale and cold as a marble statue. He had
taken poison!

‘When Napoleon departed for his second campaign in Russia, Corvisart
gave him some poison of so subtle a nature, that in a few minutes, even
in a few seconds, it would produce death. This poison was the same as
that treated of by Cabanis, and consisted of the prussic acid which
has subsequently been ascertained to be so fatal in its effects. It
was with this same poison that Condorcet terminated his existence.
Napoleon constantly carried it about him. It was enclosed in a little
bag hermetically sealed, and suspended round his neck. As he always
wore a flannel waistcoat next his skin, the little bag had for a long
time escaped the observation of Marchand, and he had forgotten it.
Napoleon was confident in the efficacy of this poison, and regarded it
as the means of being master of himself. He swallowed it on the night
above mentioned, after having put his affairs in order and written some
letters. He had tacitly bade farewell to the Duke of Bassano and some
of his other friends, but without giving them cause for the slightest

‘The poison was, as I have already observed, extremely violent in its
nature; but, by reason of its subtlety, it was the more liable to lose
its power by being kept for any length of time. This happened in the
present instance. It caused the Emperor dreadful pain, but it did not
prove fatal. When the Duke of Bassano perceived him in a condition
closely resembling death, he knelt down at his bedside and burst into
tears: “Ah! Sire!” he exclaimed, “what have you done?” The Emperor
raised his eyes and looked at the Duke with an expression of kindness;
then, stretching to him his cold and humid hand, he said: “You see, God
has decreed that I shall not die. He, too, condemns me to suffer!”’



After a sad parting with his old guard at Fontainebleau, on April 20,
Napoleon left for Elba, embarking on board an English frigate on the
28th. We can now resume the caricatures.

Rowlandson produced (April 12, 1814) ‘Bloody Boney, the Carcass
Butcher; left off Trade and retiring to Scarecrow Island.’ Napoleon
and the Empress, together with a bag of brown bread, are mounted on
a donkey--he wears a fool’s cap, and she belabours the ass with a
‘Baton Marechale’; the young King of Rome precedes them on a Corsican
dog. The usual direction-post (a gallows) shows the road to Elba, and
ravens are hankering after him, saying, ‘We long to pick your bones.’
A heavy-booted postilion is calling out, ‘Be Gar, you Cocquin, now I
shall drive my old Friends and bonne customers de English. Vive le Roi
et le Poste Royale.’

Rowlandson plagiarised Gillray by almost slavishly copying ‘Death
of the Corsican Fox’ (Vol. I. p. 204), only he substituted Blücher
for George the Third, and changed the names on the dogs’ collars to
_Wellington_, _Swartzenberg_, Kutusoff, Duke of York, and Crown Prince.
This etching is called ‘Coming in at the death of the Corsican fox.
Scene the Last’ (April 12, 1814).

‘A Grand Manœuvre! or, the Rogues march to the Island of Elba,’ G.
Cruikshank (April 13, 1814). Here Napoleon is shewn weeping bitterly at
his own disgrace. His hands are bound behind him, his tattered uniform
is put on wrong side in front, his boots have no soles nor toes, and
his spurs are strapped in front; some _gamins_ are tugging at a halter
which is round his neck, and are dragging him to a boat, in which sits
the Devil, waiting for him; Talleyrand is doing all in his power to
expedite matters by pushing him behind with an ‘Allied broom,’ and he
goes to his doom amidst universal execrations. The little King of Rome
is in one of his coat-tail pockets, and calls out, ‘By Gar, Papa, I
have von _grand manœuvre_ in your pocket.’

[Illustration: THE ROGUE’S MARCH.]

‘The Rogue’s March’ is by Rowlandson (April 15, 1814),

  From fickle Fortune’s gamesome lap
    What various titles flow;
  The Emperor of Conj’rors Nap,
    The King of Beggars, Joe!

a portion of which is reproduced. Blücher is dragging Napoleon and his
brother, who are handcuffed, and on a placard which he bears on his
shoulder is inscribed ‘Napoleon, late Emperor of the French, King of
Italy, Protector of the Confederation of the Rhine, Grand Arbiter of
the fate of Nations, &c. &c. &c., but now, by the permission of the
Allied Sovereigns, Exile in the Isle of Elba, an outcast from Society,
a fugitive, a vagabond. Yet this is the conceited mortal who said,
I have never been seduced by prosperity--Adversity will not be able
to overcome me.’ In the background drummers are playing ‘The Rogue’s
March,’ and all the European Powers dancing round the old Bourbon flag,
on which is written ‘Rejoice O ye Kings, Vive le Roi!’

‘The Sorrows of Boney, or Meditations in the Island of Elba!!!’ (April
15, 1814) shews the disconsolate Emperor, seated on the rocky isle,
weeping copiously, and staring anxiously at the Continent of Europe
which is so well guarded by ships. This engraving did former duty as
‘Crocodile’s tears’ (see Vol. I. p. 241).

On April 17, 1814, Rowlandson published ‘The Affectionate farewell,
or kick for kick,’ which gives us Talleyrand kicking Napoleon and
striking him with his crutch. ‘Va t’en Coquin, I’ll crack your Crown,
you pitiful vagabond.’ The fallen Emperor not only puts up with these
insults, but, turning round, says, ‘Votre très humble serviteur,
Monsieur Tally.’ His maimed soldiery call out, ‘Bone him, my tight
little Tally,’ and one even goes so far as to shout out, ‘What! let
him sneak off without a mark or a scratch! No, no, I’ll darken his
daylights for him.’

‘The Last March of the Conscripts, or Satan and his Satellites hurled
to the land of oblivion’ (April 17, 1814), represents Napoleon and his
brothers all chained together in a gang, heavily fettered, in tatters,
and being whipped by a most ferocious Cossack. To add to poor Boney’s
miseries, his little child is pulling at his coat-tails crying, ‘Didn’t
you promise me I should be a King?’ Talleyrand is rejoicing, and a
large box of crowns and sceptres is labelled, ‘To the right owners.’

‘A delicate finish to a French Usurper’ is by T. N. (April 20, 1814),
although Mr. Grego places it as one of Rowlandson’s--who possibly may
have etched it.

  Boney, Canker of our joys,
    Now thy tyrant reign is o’er;
  Fill the Merry Bowl, my Boys,
    Join in Bacchanalian roar.
  Seize the villain, plunge him in;
    See, the hated miscreant dies.
  Mirth and all thy train come in,
    Banish sorrow, tears, and sighs.

This represents Bonaparte, seated on a throne of skulls and bones, very
ill indeed. His crown of tyranny has fallen off and is broken, and he
is in the act of disgorging ‘The Throne of France,’ having already
done so with Holland, Rome, Portugal, &c.--in fact, all his previous
successes: nay, the very bees are flying away from off his imperial
mantle. Time is putting an extinguisher on his head; whilst the Duke of
Wellington, the Emperor Alexander, he of Austria, and the Crown Prince,
stand looking at Blücher, who is administering his ‘black draught’
to the patient. Three dancing females--two of them holding a shield
charged with the Bourbon lilies over the head of the third--typify the
joy of France at the Emperor’s downfall and Louis the Eighteenth’s
accession to the throne.

‘Boney at Elba--or, a Madman’s Amusement’ (April 20, 1814), is a very
characteristic caricature.

  So high he’s mounted on his airy Throne,
  That now the wind has got into his Head,
  And turns his brains to Frenzy.

Bonaparte, crowned with a straw crown, and wielding a straw sceptre, is
setting light to a straw cannon, with which he is supposed to be aiming
at straw dummies of Russia, Prussia, Austria, and Sweden. The cannon
naturally catches alight, and his army (one corporal) calls out, ‘Ah!
Diable, mais you was burn Le Materiel, you burn your playtings.’ The
mad monarch, however, persists, and replies, ‘Now these fellows shall
know what the Conqueror of the World can do ---- Corporal! D---- you
Sir! don’t you blow up the Bridge till I order you.’


‘“Cruce dignus,” the Grand Menagerie, with an exact representation of
NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,[41] the little Corsican monkey, as he may probably
appear at the island of Elba,’ is a reproduction of the engraving by
Lee in 1803 of ‘Pidcock’s Grand Menagerie,’ and, as the letterpress is
almost identical, it is not worth giving again (published April 20,

The following broadside was published April 23, 1814, price 3_d._:--

_Cruce Dignus_


_Underneath a_ GIBBET _over a_ DUNGHILL _at_ ELBA.

  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 poisoned 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,
  Ere you pass by,
  Kneel and thank thy God,
  For all the Blessings of thy glorious Constitution;
  Then return into the peaceful Bosom of thy Family, and continue
  In the practice of those Virtues
  By which thy Ancestors
  Have obtained the Favor of the Almighty.


_Tiddy doll_, the gingerbread manufacturer, is once more introduced
into caricature (April 21, 1814): ‘Broken Gingerbread (_G. H. inv^t--G.
Cruikshank fec^t_). Napoleon is at Elba, in an extremely dilapidated
condition; a wretched thatched hut has on it a board painted, ‘Tiddy
Doll, Gingerbread baker. N.B.--Removed from Paris.’ On his head he
carries a tray of broken gingerbread, and calls out, ‘Buy my Images!
Here’s my nice little gingerbread Emperors and Kings, retail and for
exportation.’ In the background can be seen the coast of France, on
which the people are rejoicing and dancing round a flag, ‘Vivent les

‘The Hellbaronian/Elbaronian Emperor going to take possession of his
new Territory’ (April 23, 1814), by G. H., engraved by G. Cruikshank.
Here Napoleon, ragged and heavily fettered, is in an iron cage, which
is drawn by a mounted Cossack. Others surround and guard him, and we
can well understand the captive’s ejaculatory ‘Oh--d--n these Cossacks.’


‘Nap dreading his doleful Doom or his grand entry into the Isle of
Elba’ (April 25, 1814), represents the exiled Emperor at the moment
of his landing. He has just been put ashore in a small boat, and his
slender luggage, which is guarded by his solitary follower, a Mameluke,
is deposited on the shore. With one hand in the breast of his coat, and
the other thrust deep into his breeches pocket, suffering, too, from
the impertinent inquisitiveness of the natives, it is no wonder that he
appears downcast, and says, ‘Ah, Woe is me, seeing what I have, and
seeing what I see.’ He is, however, tried to be comforted by a blowsy
bumboat woman, who, offering him her long clay pipe, pats him on the
back with ‘Come cheer up my little Nicky, I’ll be your Empress.’

George Cruikshank (May 1, 1814) gives us ‘Snuffing out Boney,’ an
operation which is being performed by a gigantic Cossack.


Hardly a caricature, is a picture attributed to Rowlandson (May 1,
1814), in which is depicted Napoleon’s throne overturned, together with
his crown and sceptre. The Devil himself is clutching Napoleon, who is
terrified at the heavenly apparition of a hand holding a flaming sword,
and the legend, ‘Thou ’rt doom’d to Pain, at which the Damn’d will
tremble, and take their own for Joys.’ This etching is called ‘The
Tyrant of the Continent is fallen. Europe is free. England Rejoices.
_Empire and Victory be all forsaken_; _To Plagues_, Poverty, Disgrace,
and Shame. Strip me of all my Dignities and Crowns. Take, O Take your
sceptres back, Spare me but life!’



In the ‘Satirist’ of May 1, 1814, is a picture by G. Cruikshank,
called ‘_Otium cum dignitate_, or a view of Elba.’ It is not a good
one. Napoleon, ragged and stockingless, smoking a short clay pipe,
is blowing up the fire with a pair of bellows. Bertrand is kissing a
female, probably Pauline, on the sly, and Jerome Bonaparte is mending

‘Boney’s Elbow/Elba Chair, a new Throne for a new Emperor; or an old
sinner brought to the stool of repentance. A dialogue between one of
his admirers & John Bull, on his being laid up with a cutaneous or skin
disorder’ (G. Cruikshank, May 5, 1814). Boney is in his rocky home
raggedly dressed, with a fool’s cap on his head, and sitting on a close
stool. He is surrounded with medicine-bottles and pots of brimstone and
itch salve, and he is scratching himself violently. John Bull says:--

  ‘So! your poor friend Nap Boney is kick’d from a throne,
  And must sit on a stool close at Elba alone.’
  ‘He is _not_ poor,’ said Nic, ‘he has got fat and grown flabby.’
  ‘He has also,’ said John, ‘got the Itch, or grown scabby.
  For not even his wife will consent to go nigh him;
  And all his old Mamelukes flout and defy him;
  Perhaps thou, in pity, will lift up his latch,
  And rub him with Brimstone or help him to scratch.
  Pray go, and take with thee the birds of thy feather,
  And all catch the Itch, or grow scabby together.’

[Illustration: WHAT I WAS. A CRUEL TYRANT.



    These three pictures are all on one plate, and are by
    Rowlandson, published May 1, 1814.

‘Needs must when Wellington Drives, or Louis’s Return!!’ (May 1814)
is a very badly drawn picture by Marks. Louis the Eighteenth, unable
to walk, by reason of the gout, is being drawn along in a sort of
Bath chair by Napoleon, and attended on either side by Blücher and
Wellington. The latter is punishing poor Napoleon with a birch-rod,
saying meanwhile, ‘I desire, you will sing God save the King.’ Boney,
with his handkerchief to his eyes, says, ‘I’ll be d--d if I do.’
Blücher is of opinion, ‘You’l be d--d whether you do or not.’

A very commonplace caricature is ‘The Tyrant, overtaken by Justice, is
excluded from the world,’ and it would not be noticed here did it not
introduce us to a new artist, L. M. (? Lewis Marks). Napoleon, chained
to his rock, disconsolately gazes at that world which he may not reach,
the Devil meanwhile pointing the finger of scorn at him (May 1814).

In ‘the departure of Apollo and the Muses--or Farewell to Paris’ (May
1814), by I. Sidebotham, we have the restitution of the art treasures,
taken by Napoleon, to their different owners--a long string of waggons,
filled with pictures, &c., are labelled Holland, Italy, Venice, Berlin,
and Vienna. Louis the Eighteenth, at the Louvre, laments it, and
says, ‘Dear Talley, persuade them to leave us a few of these pretty
things for my _chambers_, they will pacify the Deputies, and amuse
the people.’ Talleyrand replies, ‘I have tried every scheme to retain
them, but it seems they have _at last_ found us out, and are not to
be humbug’d any longer.’ Apollo and the Muses have mounted a fine
gold car, which is drawn, not only by horses, but by the British Lion
as well--the former being postilioned by Blücher; the latter by the
Duke of Wellington, who calls out, ‘Go along, Blucher, let us haste to
restore the stolen Goods.’



Of his entry into Elba the poet thus sings:--

  On board th’ Undaunted he embark’d--
  ‘A noble vessel,’ he remark’d,
  And now the banish’d malefactor
  (So late a wild and busy actor),
  His entry into Elba made
  Upon the fourth of May. ’Tis said
  To see the wondrous little man
  Th’ inhabitants all eager ran.
  A great blue coat our hero sported,
  And was most pompously escorted;
  Three fiddles and two fifes preceded,
  For he some consolation needed;
  _Pity my fall_ became the strain
  Which they struck up to sooth his pain;
  ‘Oh change that doleful air,’ he said,
  And therefore the musicians played,
  In hopes to comfort the poor elf,
  _Go to the De’il, and shake yourself_.
  ‘Give me a horse,’ he cried; of course
  Nap was provided with a horse,
  And round the island quick he rode,
  Which his wild disposition shewed;
  The little children, at his view,
  Cried out, ‘Oh, there’s a _bug-a-boo_!’
  Without a wife--without a mother,[43]
  Without a sister, or a brother,
  And even of a friend bereft,
  Poor Nap is to his conscience left.

On June 4, 1814, was published (artist unknown) ‘An Imperial vomit’ in
which Bonaparte is disgorging the kingdoms he has swallowed up. The
Prince Regent, behind him, says, ‘I think now my little fellow, you are
pretty well clear’d out, and I hope you will never give us the trouble
to Prescribe or Proscribe any more.’

‘Drumming out of the French Army!!!’ is the title of a picture
published in June 1814. Blücher has Bonaparte in a drum, which he
carries before him, beating him alternately with a birch-rod and a
drum-stick, Russia, Prussia, and Austria looking on.

Lewis Marks produced, in June 1814, ‘Boney and his new subjects at
Elba.’ The poverty-stricken condition to which the Emperor is reduced
is too graphically portrayed, and his ragged army of four is very
vividly illustrated. He thus addresses them: ‘Gentlemen, my friends
despise and d--n England, Russia, Prussia, Germany, and Sweden, and
obey me--and I will make kings of you all.’

Napoleon might well say that his ‘territory was somewhat small;’ but,
small as it was, his restless activity set to work to improve it. He
made roads where none had existed, canals and aqueducts, a lazaretto,
and stations for tunny-fishing. Vineyards were improved, and the little
island was quite prosperous. Numerous visitors came to pay their
respects to the Emperor, causing money to be spent; vessels brought
provisions, and took away what the inhabitants had to export. Porto
Ferrajo was gay and lively, its name being changed to Cosmopoli. A new
flag was manufactured, having a red bend dexter, charged with three
bees on a white field, and Moorish pirates were very chary of touching
vessels bearing this flag. In May Cambrone brought out some volunteers
of the old guard, and Napoleon exercised and inspected his little army.

[Illustration: BONEY AND HIS NEW SUBJECTS AT ELBA (_see previous

But these things cost money, and that was one of the things wanting to
Napoleon. The conditions of the treaty with him were shamefully broken.
Hear what he says himself about it:[44] ‘It was stipulated and agreed
to, that all the members of my family should be allowed to follow me
to Elba; but, in violation of that, my wife and child were seized,
detained, and never permitted to join a husband and a father. They were
also to have had the Duchies of Parma, Placentia, and Guastalla, which
they were deprived of. By the treaty, Prince Eugene was to have had a
principality in Italy, which was never given. My mother and brothers
were to receive pensions, which were also refused to them. My own
private property, and the savings which I had made on the civil list,
were to have been preserved for me. Instead of that, they were seized
in the hands of Labouillerie the treasurer, contrary to the treaty, and
all claims made by me rejected. The private property of my family was
to be held sacred: it was confiscated. The dotations assigned to the
army on the Mont Napoleon were to be preserved: they were suppressed;
nor were the hundred thousand francs which were to be given as pensions
to persons pointed out by me, ever paid. Moreover, assassins were sent
to Elba to murder me. Never,’ continued Napoleon, ‘have the terms of a
treaty been more evidently violated, and indeed openly scoffed at, than
those were by the allies.’

Louis the Eighteenth was very tame after Napoleon, who, in spite of
his draining France of men and treasure, had implanted a deep personal
love for him in the hearts of his people; and, from some fancied saying
of his, that ‘he would return in the spring,’ the violet, the flower
of spring, was taken as his emblem, and so worn. He was spoken of
under the name of Caporal Violette, or Papa Violette, and the people
comforted themselves with ‘En printemps il reviendra.’

There were several coloured engravings of bunches of violets,
bearing the portraits of Napoleon, Maria Louisa, and the King of
Rome--or Prince of Parma, as he was then called--published in France;
notably one by Cann, ‘Violettes du 20 Mars 1815,’ from which, in all
probability, Cruikshank took his caricature of ‘The Peddigree of
Corporal Violet (G. H. inv^t et del. etched by G. Cruikshank 9 June
1815)’; but, in the arrangement of the flowers, it is superior to any
of the French pictures that I have seen.


For want of space, I have but partially reproduced it. It is described
‘First as a Consular Toad Stool, rising from a Corsican Dunghill, then
changing to an Imperial Sun Flower, from that to an Elba fungus’ (where
the illustration commences), ‘and lastly to a bunch of Violets, which
are so disposed as to represent a _whole length Profile of Buonaparte_,
with a bust of _Maria Louisa_, and her Son, the _Prince of Parma_,’
which portraits, undoubtedly existing in the picture, will be a
pleasing exercise of patience on the part of my readers to discover.

Although not English caricature, I may be pardoned for giving, as
a type of then French feeling, a song sung by the troops amongst
themselves. It is full of slang of the period, which the notes will

        Pendant que Louis Dix-huit à gogo[45]
        Mangeait, buvait, faisait dodo,[46]
        Un beau jour, le Papa
        Quitte son île, et le voilà!

  _Chorus._     Chantons le père de la violette
                Au bruit de sons,[47] et de canons!

        Quand à la cour on sait cela,
        Le Comte d’Artois monte son dada,[48]
        Mais pour barrer le Papa,
        Il faut un autre luron[49] que ça!
                Chantons, &c.

During Napoleon’s exile Josephine had died, on May 29. She had
lived quite long enough, and had experienced as many, and as great,
vicissitudes as any woman.

In June the Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia and his sons, with a
numerous suite, visited London, and were made LL.D.’s at Oxford, great
fun being made at the time about conferring the degree on Blücher,
_Dr._ Blücher figuring in many caricatures.

‘John Bull mad with Joy! or the First of August 1814,’ shows the old
fellow in ecstasies of delight. He has thrown away his hat, and is
waving his wig, dancing all the time. The Prince Regent says, ‘Ah,
ha! Johnny, I knew you’d be delighted,’ and shows him the ‘Bill
of Fare of the Grand National Jubilee for the Peace of 1814. Hyde
Park--A grand fair--Mess^{rs} Gyngall, Richardson, and Punches
shows--a grand sea fight upon the Serpentine--Fireworks in Kensington
Gardens--plenty of gin and beer--St. James’ Park--a Balloon--Chinese
bridge and Pagoda--Boat race on the Canal--fireworks--plenty of port,
sherry, claret, champagne, &c., &c., &c. Green Park--Castle and
Temple--Fireworks and Royal Booths.’ In his right hand the capering
and joyous John swings a miniature gallows, on which hang the prince’s
enemies, and he cries out in his joy, ‘Huzza for the Prince of Princes!
Damn the lying London Papers! May Whitbread be drown’d in one of his
own butts! and Tierney be choked with his long speeches. Here I have
your enemies as they should be! I shall stick this in my Corn field
to frighten the Crows! so Huzza, again and again, for the Prince of

This was the outcome of the Grand Jubilee on August 1, which was
celebrated in London--notably in the parks. ‘Mad with joy’ was the
proper expression. See what this peace meant for the nation--a revival
of trade, a remission of taxes, cheaper provisions, the reuniting to
their families of beloved ones who had undergone so much for their
country. No one can wonder that the people went ‘mad with joy,’ and
were not ashamed to confess it. There was a pagoda on a Chinese[50]
bridge thrown over the canal in St. James’s Park, and at night
fireworks were displayed thereon. Chinese lanterns all along the Mall
and Birdcage Walk. In the Green Park was a ‘Temple of Concord,’ near
which was a fine booth for the accommodation of the foreign ambassadors
and guests whom the Regent delighted to honour. Small men-of-war waged
a mimic sea-fight on the Serpentine, and in Hyde Park was a regular
fair. Sadler went up in his balloon, but nearly came to grief, and
descended somewhat precipitately in Mucking Marshes, on the Essex
coast, sixteen miles below Gravesend. Sad to say, about midnight the
pagoda caught fire, and two people lost their lives. The fair in Hyde
Park was kept going for several days afterwards.

So we leave the year 1814, with Napoleon seemingly safe, yet far from
contented, and the English people revelling in the new and welcome
blessings of peace.



A somewhat elaborate caricature is by George Cruikshank (January 1815),
and is entitled ‘Twelfth Night, or What you Will! now performing at
the Theatre Royal Europe, with new Scenery, decorations, &c., &c.,
&c.’ It represents a theatre, on the stage of which sit Wellington,
Austria, Russia, and Prussia. The former has been dividing an enormous
Twelfth Cake, with the help of a huge knife and Britannia’s trident.
Austria simply takes the whole of Germany, and remarks, ‘I shall get
my piece cut as large as I can. I don’t think it is large enough.’
Russia, who is not content with his huge piece of Russia in Europe,
puts his hand on Poland, and, turning to a Pole, who is drawing his
sword, says: ‘Here brother, take possession of this piece, I think
I can manage them both; besides, this has more plumbs on it, which
will mix with mine.’ Prussia, besides his own country, lays hands on
Saxony, exclaiming: ‘If I add this Saxon piece to my Prussian one,
and put the figure of an Emperor on it, I think my share will look
respectable.’ Wellington, however, reflects, ‘I have been assisting to
divide the Cake, but I don’t much like my office, the Gentlemen seem so
dissatisfied.’ Bernadotte comforts himself with ‘Now I have got Norway,
I can get a wind to blow which way I please.’ Louis the Eighteenth and
a Dutchman are in a private box; and in one of the stage-boxes is John
Bull and his dog, the former of whom shakes hands with and welcomes an
American Indian, saying, ‘I hope you won’t disturb the peace.’ In the
opposite box are two Turks and a Hungarian; whilst in the box above
is Spain, his crown stuck all over with gallows, and attended by a
fearful-looking Jesuit, reading from a ‘list of Prisoners to be hung
for supporting a free Constitution.’ The other Powers are on their
knees on the stage, abjectly begging, ‘Pray, Gentlemen, spare us a few
of the small pieces, for we are almost starving.’

Napoleon was still at Elba, and Europe was enjoying a fool’s
paradise, as cannot be better shown than by a quotation from Rogers’s
‘Recollections’ (if reliable): ‘When Buonaparte left Elba for France,
I (the Duke of Wellington) was at Vienna, and received the news from
Lord Burghersh, our Minister at Florence. The instant it came, I
communicated it to every member of the Congress, and all laughed; the
Emperor of Russia most of all.’

Doubtless they thought themselves secure, for they left Elba unguarded
in the most singular manner. As Napoleon told O’Meara: ‘I do not
believe that Castlereagh thought I should have ventured to leave Elba,
as otherwise some frigates would have been stationed about the island.
If they had kept a frigate in the harbour, and another outside, it
would have been impossible for me to have gone to France, except alone,
which I would never have attempted. Even if the King of France had
ordered a frigate, with a picked crew, to cruise off the island, it
would have prevented me.’

Napoleon did not leave Elba till February 26, nor did he land at Cannes
till March 1, when the news of his landing spread like wildfire.
The ‘Times’ of March 11 says: ‘Early yesterday morning we received
by express from Dover, the important, but lamentable intelligence,
of a civil war having been again kindled in France, by that wretch
Buonaparte, whose life was so impoliticly spared by the Allied
Sovereigns. It now appears that the hypocritical villain, who, at the
time of his cowardly abdication, affected an aversion to the shedding
of blood in a civil warfare, has been employed during the whole time of
his residence at Elba, in carrying on secret and treasonable intrigues
with the tools of his former crimes in France,’ &c.

The caricaturists soon fastened on this event, which fell upon Europe
like a thunderbolt, and some time in March was published ‘The Devil
to pay, or Boney’s return from Hell Bay/Elba, 25 Feb. 1815,’ by I. L.
Marks. Napoleon is crossing the sea in a boat filled with soldiers,
rowed by the Devil, and steered by Death. He sees the dove of peace,
and immediately kills it with his pistol, saying, ‘Away from my sight,
Peace, Thou art hateful to me.’ The Devil opines, ‘We shall wade
through seas of Blood after this;’ and Death, waving a tricoloured flag
on his dart, says, ‘A more expert hand at my Trade does not exist.’ The
populace are running to the shore to meet their returned Emperor with
effusion, whilst poor gouty Louis is being carried away on pickaback,
lamenting, ‘Oh Heartwell,[51] I sigh for thy peacefull Shades.’

I. L. Marks drew ‘1 Mar. 1815. The European Pantomime. Princeaple
Caracters Harliquin Mr. Boney. Pantaloon Louis XVIII. Columbine Maria
Louiza. Clowns &c. by Congress.’ Here Napoleon is making a terrific
leap from Elba to the French coast, where the poor pantaloon, all
gouty, shakes his crutch in impotent rage. The Empress and her
little son welcome him, and Congress is represented by the different
sovereigns of Europe, who are in a tent; Russia pointing to a globe in
the midst of them.

Here is a somewhat homely, but contemporary, account of how the news of
Napoleon’s escape was received in London:--

  Twang went the horn! ‘confound that noise!’
  I cried, in pet--‘these plaguy boys
  Are at some tricks to sell their papers,
  Their _blasts_ have given me the _vapours_!’
  But all my senses soon were stranded,
  At hearing ‘Buonaparte’s landed!’
  ‘Landed in France!’ so ran the strain,
  And ‘with eleven hundred men.’
  ‘Ho, post!’ ‘Who calls?’ ‘This way.’ ‘I’m coming!’
  ‘The public surely he is humming,’
  Said I. ‘A paper--what’s the price?’
  ‘A shilling.’ ‘Why, that’s payment twice!’
  ‘As _cheap as dirt_, your honour, quite;
  They’ve sold for half a crown to-night.’
  ‘But is the News authentic, friend?’
  ‘_Ofishul_, sir, you may depend.--
  The _Currier_, third edition.’ ‘So!
  Well, take your money, boy, and go.’
  Now for the news--by what strange blunder
  Has he escaped his bounds, I wonder.

The flight of the British who were in France, upon hearing the news
of Napoleon’s landing, is amusingly shown in ‘Hell broke loose or
the John Bulls made Jack Asses,’ which is the euphonious title of a
caricature by G. Cruikshank, published March 20, 1815. In it we see
depicted the flight of Louis the Eighteenth and all the English then
resident in Paris. They are departing in fearful haste, and by all
kinds of conveyances. One reflects, ‘How they will laugh at us at home
for being so fond of spending our Money in Foreign Countries.’ Another
complains, ‘Oh dear, Oh! dear, I have left all my valuables in Paris.
I wish I had never brought my prosperity into France.’ One man, gouty,
is being dragged along in a go-cart. Three men are mounted on a cow,
whilst another holds on by its tail; whilst those on horseback, or in
carriages, are having their quadrupeds and vehicles requisitioned,
‘Me vant de horse to meet my old master Boney.’ ‘We want de coach to
join de grand Emperor; we teach you now to recover our lost honour and
fight like devils.’ Napoleon, at the head of his army, says, ‘Aye, Aye,
I shall catch some of the John Bulls, and I’ll make them spend their
money, and their time, too, in France.’

‘Boney’s Return from Elba, or the Devil among the Tailors (G. H. inv^t
etched by G. Cruikshank, 21 March, 1815)’ is indeed a scare. Before
describing the picture, it would be as well to read the following lines
which are at its foot:--

  Hush’d was the din of Arms and fierce debate,
  Janus once more had clos’d his Temple gate;
  Assembled Congress fix’d the flattering Plan,
  For Europe’s safety, and the Peace of Man.

  When, like a Tiger, stealing from his den,
  And gorg’d with blood, yet seeking blood again;
  From Elba’s Isle the Corsican came forth,
  Making his sword the measure of his worth.

  Hence plunder, force, & cunning blast his fame,
  And sink the Hero in the Robber’s name;
  Hence guiltless Louis from the throne is hurl’d,
  And discord reigns triumphant o’er the world.

  Swift as the vivid lightning’s shock,
  The Exile darts from Elba’s Rock!
  And like the Thunderbolt of fate
  Dethrones a King! transforms a State!

Bonaparte, suddenly leaping from Elba, enters at an open window,
knocking off the board, on which he had been sitting, the unlucky Louis
the Eighteenth, who lies prone on the floor, crying, ‘Help, help!
Oh! I am knocked off my Perch.’ John Bull goes to his assistance,
comforting him with, ‘Never fear old boy, I’ll help you up again; as
for that rascal Boney, I’ll sew him up presently.’ Boney, meanwhile, is
calmly seated on the tailor’s bench, saying, ‘Dont disturb yourselves,
shopmates, I have only popped myself here as a cutter out. Where is my
wife and son, Father Francis?’ Trembling Austria, goose in one hand,
scissors in the other, says, ‘I will send an answer shortly.’ Terrified
Holland exclaims, ‘Donder and Blizen dat is de Devil!’ Russia, pointing
to a knout, says, ‘I’ll take a few Cossack _measures_ to him.’ Old
Blücher, with a huge pair of shears, advances to Napoleon, exclaiming,
‘Cutter out indeed!!! Yes, Yes, I’ll cut you out, Master Boney.’
Prussia, still seated, sewing, thinks, ‘You have cut out a little
work for us to be sure, but d---- me if you shall be foreman here.’
Bernadotte opines that ‘This looks like another subsidy.’ Talleyrand
is hiding himself under the bench; and the poor Pope, sprawling on the
floor, forgets all Christian charity and language, and cries out, ‘Oh!
curse the fellow, I wish I had the power of a _Bull_, I’d kick him to
_Hell_. D--n me if it isn’t enough to make a saint swear.’

‘A Review of the New Grand Army’ (artist unnamed, March 1815) shows, in
the background, a host of very tattered troops. In front is Napoleon,
_the aghast Emperor_, and _his two friends and Pillars of the State_,
Death and the Devil. On one side of him is a _Captain of Starved
Banditti from the Alps_, whose aim and object is plunder, and he acts
as aide-de-camp; whilst a ferocious _Butcher from Elba_, reeking
knife, and halter, in either hand, guards his other side, and acts as
generalissimo. In a flood of light over Napoleon’s head appears the
_Dæmon of War presiding over the Tyrant_, bearing in one hand a flag,
inscribed ‘We come to redress Grievances,’ and with the other pointing
to ‘_Boundless Ambition_.’

G. Cruikshank etched (April 4, 1815) ‘The Genius of France expounding
her Laws to the Sublime People.’ An enormous monkey, his tail
ornamented with tricoloured bows, unfolds a tricoloured scroll, which
a lot of much smaller monkeys are reading. It is ‘The French Code of
Laws.--Ye shall be vain, fickle, and foolish--Ye shall kill your King
one day, and crown his relative the next.--You shall get tired of Him
in a few weeks--and recal a TYRANT, who has made suffering humanity
bleed at every pore--because it will be truly _Nouvelle_--Lastly,
ye shall abolish and destroy all virtuous Society and worship the
DEVIL.--As for Europe, or that little dirty Nation, the English, let
them be d--d. FRANCE, the GREAT NATION, against the whole WORLD.’

‘The Congress dissolved before the _Cake_ was cut’ is the title of an
etching by G. Cruikshank (dated April 6, 1815), in which the sovereigns
are seated round an enormous cake of Europe, which they were going
to cut up and divide, but are startled by the sudden apparition of
Napoleon, who, with drawn sword, strides into the room, trampling on
the _decrees of the Congress, An account of the Deliverance of Europe_,
and _a plan for the security of Europe_. The Dutchman falls off his
stool, and spills his bottle of Hollands: ‘Oh! Donder and Blizen, my
Hollands is all gone,’ is his consolatory reflection. Russia starts
up with ‘Who the Devil expected you here,--this is _mal à propos_.’
Prussia ‘Thought England had promised to guard him.’ Austria, in
terror, yells out for somebody to ‘hold him, seize him.’ The Pope
pathetically laments, ‘Oh dear, oh dear, what will become of me?’
Bernadotte shouts, ‘Seize him, Kill him’; but Poland, with folded arms,
calmly asks, ‘Who’ll begin? there’s the Rub!!!’ The only one of the
whole of them who has any presence of mind is Wellington, who jumps
alertly to his feet and draws his sword.


‘The flight of Bonaparte from Hell-Bay’ is by Rowlandson (April 7,
1815). It represents the arch-fiend, seated in his own peculiar
dominions, engaged in blowing bubbles, on one of which he has mounted
Napoleon, and sent him once more aloft, to the intense delight of
admiring devils.

Rowlandson etched ‘Hell Hounds rallying round the Idol of France’
(April 8, 1815), which certainly is not a pleasant picture. A colossal
bust of Napoleon, with a halter round his neck, is mounted on a pyramid
of human heads, and around him, to testify their delight at his return,
are dancing Savary, Fouché, Caulaincourt, Vandamme, Davoust, Ney, and
Lefèbre. Devils, who say ‘He deserves a crown of pitch,’ are bringing
one already alight. The foreground is strewn with corpses.

‘Vive le Roi! vive l’Empereur! vive le Diable! French Constancy, French
Integrity’ (date uncertain, but some time in April 1815) is credited
to Rowlandson. A French soldier, musket in one hand, snuff-box in the
other, has three different knots of ribbon in his hat--a red one, ‘Vive
le Diable!’ a white one, ‘Vive le Roi!’ and a tricoloured one, Vive
l’Empereur!’ A windmill typifies French stability, and a monkey and
cat, embracing and fondling, show ‘French union between the National
Guard and troops of the Line.’

On April 12, 1815, was published an etching, not signed, but accredited
to Rowlandson, ‘Scene in a New Pantomime to be performed at the
Theatre Royal, Paris. With entire new Music, Dances, Dresses, Scenery,
Machinery, &c. The principal Characters to be supported by most of the
great Potentates of Europe. Harlequin by M^r Napoleon. Clown by King
Wirtemberg. Pantaloon, Emperor of Austria. To conclude with a comic
song to be sung by the Pope, and a Grand Chorus by the crown’d heads.’

In this caricature we see Napoleon, habited as harlequin, a dagger in
each hand, leaping into the unknown, through a ‘practicable’ portrait
of ‘Louis le bien aimé.’ He is pursued by all the European Powers.
Clown fires two pistols at him, but overthrows Spain, who has just
drawn his sword. Russia pricks him in the rear with a lance. Holland
and Prussia are firing at him; whilst some one is taking down from the
wall the portrait of the Empress as Columbine.

In horrible taste is Rowlandson’s picture of ‘The Corsican and his
Bloodhounds at the Window of the Thuilleries, looking over Paris’
(April 16, 1815). The scene is a balcony, in which are Napoleon and
some of his marshals. The balcony is inscribed ‘More horrors, Death
and Destruction.’ The Devil is hugging Ney and Napoleon, and Death is
pointing to the streets of Paris, where is a surging mob, with heads on
pikes, &c.


‘The Corsican’s last trip under the guidance of his Good Angel’ (April
16, 1815) has no artist’s name attached. It represents Bonaparte, and
the Devil, taking a prodigious leap from Elba, to the throne, and
sovereign power.

‘The Phenix of Elba resuscitated by Treason’ is by G. Cruikshank (May
1, 1815), and is a very elaborate plate. A witch, whose hands drop
gore, presides over the resuscitation, saying, ‘Rise, Spirit, that can
never rest, sweet Bloodthirsty Soul! Offspring of Treason! come forth.’
Obedient to her exorcisms, the Phœnix (Napoleon) rises from a caldron,
exclaiming, ‘Veni, Vidi, Vici!’ Around the caldron gleefully dance the
marshals of the Empire, singing, ‘Ah! ha! by gar, now we shall begin
our Bloody work again;’ and in the heavens is shown a genius, having a
crown and sceptre in one hand, and a guillotine in the other, who says,
‘Rise, rise, thou favor’d son of Fate! Death or a Diadem shall reward
thy labours.’

In one part of the picture is shown the Prince Regent indolently
reclining on a divan, a huge decanter by his side, the prime minister
presenting him with the news of the _Return of Boney to Paris_ and
the _Decision of Congress_: saying at the same time, ‘May it please
my Prince, but these are events we never calculated upon. I had no
objection to the sacrifice of Saxony to the ambition of Prussia: I had
no objection to the views of Alexander upon Poland: I had no objection
to the transfer of Norway to Sweden: I had no objection to the union
of Belgium with Holland: I had no objection to all these things; but
I could not foresee that the people would be dissatisfied and wish
for the return of Buonaparte--to which I have every objection.’ The
Regent, his eyes starting out of his head, exclaims, ‘How? shall I lose
Hanover? shall I lose all we have been fighting for?’

In another part is Solomon’s Temple, in which sit the Congress,
wrangling over the division of a huge cake. Gouty Louis the Eighteenth,
mounted on a donkey, is off, hard gallop, to Vienna, calling out, ‘Gee
up, Neddy--adieu to the Lily in the Violet season! adieu to my good
City of Paris!’ whilst Wellington, on horseback, is going full speed to



‘The Royal Allied Oak and self-created mushroom Kings’ is a curiosity
on account of the many profiles contained therein. An account of them
is given as under:--

  Behold the Oak whose firm fix’d stay
    Doth check Oppression’s course,
  Whose slightest branch can ne’er decay,
    While strong with Virtue’s force.

  Our much lov’d Sovereign decks the branch,
    The highest of the Tree:
  And peaceful Louis tho’ driven from France,
    Among its boughs you’ll see.

  The Regent’s Portrait next behold,
    Whose Councils Wisdom guides;
  And Russia’s noble Monarch bold,
    Who check’d the Tyrant’s strides.

  Immortal Wellington next is seen,
    Whose fame can ne’er expire;
  And vet’ran Blucher’s warlike mien
    That kindled Napoleon’s ire.

  The Mushroom race you have to seek
    In weeds about the root,
  Who scarce dare at the Oak to peep,
    Or at its princely fruit.

This clever picture is by I. Field, and was published May 29, 1815.


S. T. Taw, a new caricaturist, gives us ‘The Crown Candidates, or a
modest request politely refused’ (May 1815). Louis the Eighteenth,
Napoleon, and the young King of Rome are seated at a table. The former
is saying, in the hopes of an amicable settlement being come to, ‘Sire,
when you have done with the Empire, I will thank you to let me have
it.’ Napoleon replies, ‘I am sorry, Sire, it is engaged for that young
Gentleman.’ The King of Rome has a torn map, which he is trying to
piece, and he says, ‘I think I shall be able to unite them.’

G. Cruikshank drew (June 1, 1815) ‘Preparing for War,’ which is
somewhat elaborate in detail. The centre is occupied by a funeral pyre,
to which fire has already been applied, ‘Sacred to the Bourbon cause,
and dedicated to the Downfall of illegitimate Tyranny.’ Atop of this
is chained a bull, decked with flowers for the sacrifice, and draped
with a cloth, on which is inscribed: ‘Land Tax--Ditto Personal--Tax on
Windows, Dogs, Houses, Servants, Clerks, Shopmen, Carts, Hair powder,
Horses, Waiters, Travellers, Income, Armorial bearings,’ &c. &c. Poor
John Bull bellows, ‘Alas, and must I come to this! have I bled for so
many years in your service, and will you now take my life?’ A typical
representative of the House of Commons assures him that it is ‘Better
to die Johnny, than live, and see thrive the thing we hate--Let us
arm--war--war--interminable war I say, down with the Regicide--no
quarter to the Usurper--So I said at Congress, so I now repeat, and
if it is your fate to expire at the Altar, Johnny, all I ask is that
I may live to preach your funeral sermon.’ A typical House of Lords
is about to give him the _coup de grâce_ with a pole-axe inscribed
‘New War Taxes,’ comforting him with ‘No grumbling Johnny, you are
a Noble _Sacrifice_ and worthy of the Cause.’ A number of empty
bags are waiting to be filled--‘Subsidies,’ ‘The Army,’ ‘The Navy,’
‘Contractors,’ &c.

The left-hand portion of the picture shows the Prince Regent reclining
idly on the throne undergoing his toilet. His idea of the gravity
of the situation may be gathered from his speech: ‘Why this looks
like war! Order me a brilliant Fête, send me a Myriad of Cooks and
Scullions--say to me no more of Civil Lists and deserted wives, but of
lascivious Mistresses and Bacchanalian Orgies--To it, Pell mell--my
soul is eager for the fierce encounter--What, are my Whiskers[52]
easier than they were?’ One of his valets says, ‘Your highness shall
in all things be obey’d’; whilst one, who is measuring him round the
waist, tells him, ‘I think these will be the best stays your highness
has had yet.’

In the background are seen soldiery, and Wellington and Blücher
sharpening their swords. Poor gouty Louis is clad in armour, and is
mounted on Talleyrand as a charger. He is accompanied by an army of
two men, armed with bottles of _Eau Medicinal_, and his artillery is
composed of rolls of flannel. He soliloquises: ‘Well--we’ve _Tally_
for the Field to-morrow! but don’t forget the _Eau Medicinal_ and the
_Fleecy Hosiery_; alas! these gouty limbs are but ill adapted to Jack
boots and spurs--I think I had better fight my battles over a cool
bottle with my friend George.’

The extreme right of the engraving shews Napoleon giving orders to
‘Let loose the Dogs of War;’ which is obeyed by one of his marshals,
who delightedly exclaims, ‘Here is a glorious pack already sniffing
human blood, and fresh for slaughter----On--comrades--on! the word is
Bonaparte, Beelzebub and Blood.’

It was time to prepare for war, with a vengeance. On March 25 a treaty
had been concluded at Vienna between Great Britain, Russia, Austria,
and Prussia, binding themselves to maintain the Treaty of Paris, to
keep each 150,000 men in the field, and not to leave off until Napoleon
had been rendered harmless.

British gold had to be lavishly employed: the King of Würtemberg
receiving from our Government 11_l._ 2_s._ for each man, to the number
of 29,000, which he bound himself to bring into the field.[53] But the
campaign in Belgium was to be a short one. We all know it, and its
glorious end, at Waterloo. The news of that victory flew as never news
flew before, for on the 22nd inst. was published the following official

  ‘Downing Street, June 22, 1815.

    ‘The Duke of Wellington’s Dispatch, dated Waterloo, the 19th
    of June, states that on the preceding day Buonaparte attacked,
    with his whole force, the British line, supported by a corps of
    Prussians; which attack, after a long and sanguinary conflict,
    terminated in the complete overthrow of the Enemy’s Army, with
    the loss of ONE HUNDRED and FIFTY PIECES of CANNON, and TWO
    EAGLES. During the night, the Prussians under Marshall Blücher,
    who joined in the pursuit of the Enemy, captured SIXTY GUNS,
    and a large part of Buonaparte’s BAGGAGE. The Allied Armies
    continued to pursue the enemy. Two French Generals were taken.’

Although jubilant exceedingly, the nation hardly yet comprehended the
value of that victory; in fact, in reading the immediate contemporary
comments thereon, there seems to be a dread of Napoleon’s powers of
resource and recuperation, and the illuminations which followed were
not so enthusiastically described as on some other occasions.

One caricaturist seems to have been gifted with prescience, for before
the victory became known he had produced a caricature which was called
‘A Lecture on Heads,[54] as Delivered by Marshalls Wellington and
Blucher’ (artist unknown, June 21, 1815), which shews these heroes
dealing death and destruction on the French all round them, making the
heads fly all over the place. Blücher shouts out, ‘Blister ’em, Fire
’em, shoot ’em, Kick ’em, Lump ’em, Thump ’em, whack ’em, smack ’em.’
Wellington sings--

  Bold as Hector or Macbeth,
              Ri tol, lol, la.
  Where’s the Fun like meeting Death,
              Tol de ridy Tol de ray.

‘Monkey’s Allowance, more Kicks than Dumplings. A Farce Perform’d
with Great Eclat at the National Theatre in the Netherlands,’ is the
title of a not particularly good picture by an unnamed artist in June
1815. It represents Napoleon, with his hands tied behind him, getting
‘Monkey’s Allowance’ from the principal sovereigns of Europe.

        WELLINGTON (_sings whilst kicking him_).

  Master Boney with his fol der lol, le,
    I buffet away on the _plain_, Sir;


  And I’ll assist your Worship’s fist,
    With all my might and main, Sir.


  And I’ll have a Thump,
  Although he’s so plump,


  And we’ll make such a woundy racket,


  We’ll ramp, we’ll swear


  We’ll tear--oh rare,

        LOUIS XVIII.

  I warrant we’ll pepper his jacket.

‘R. Ackermann’s Transparency on the Victory of Waterloo’ is said to be
by Rowlandson, and is without date. It, doubtless, was got up on the
news of that great battle, but it is a very weak production. It simply
represents Napoleon between Wellington and Blücher: the latter meets
him with artillery, the former pursues him on horseback. Of course his
crown has tumbled off. It is not an artistic picture by any means, but,
doubtless, it evoked the enthusiasm of the masses, who were intoxicated
with joy at the famous victory.

After the battle of Waterloo, Napoleon hastened to Paris, and, tired
and covered with dust as he was, he immediately met his Ministers,
and told them the extent of his disasters. They laid the intelligence
before the Houses of Legislature, and on the morning of June 22
Napoleon received a deputation from the Chamber, who submitted to him
that ‘the state of war in which France was involved concerned much
less the nation than himself, and that the Assembly had the means at
command, if he would act so disinterested a part as to restore to it
freedom of action according as circumstances might dictate.’

This was a pretty broad hint to Napoleon to abdicate, and he took it as
such, and sent the following reply:--

    ‘Frenchmen! When I began the war to uphold national
    independence, I relied on the union of all efforts, all
    wills, and on the co-operation of all national authorities. I
    was justified in anticipating success, and I braved all the
    declarations of the Powers against my person. Circumstances
    seem to be changed. I offer myself as a sacrifice to the hatred
    against France. May your enemies prove sincere, and may it
    appear that they wage war against me alone! My political life
    is terminated. I proclaim my son, under the title of Napoleon
    II., Emperor of the French. The present Ministers will form the
    Council of the Provisional Government. The interest which I
    take in my son induces me to invite the Chambers to organize a
    Regency without delay, by a special law. Unite for the general
    safety, and to secure national independence.


    At the Palace of the Elysée, the 22 June, 1815.

The ‘Times,’[55] as usual, must speak bitter things of the fallen foe,
and, anent his abdication, says, ‘The wretch, with the blood of so
many thousands on his head, seemed to carry about him all the coolness
of that apathy which is part of his physical constitution; and so
degraded and demoralised are the Parisian populace, that they could see
the butcher of their race without the least emotion. He is, however,
spoken of in the journals, and in the debates, without any share of
that respect which but lately was attached to his name. After his
former abdication, he was invariably termed the “Emperor”; but now he
is called nothing but plain Napoleon.’



Napoleon retired to Malmaison, but was not long there before General
Becker came to him and informed him that he was appointed by the
Provisional Government to command the troops detailed for his
protection. Napoleon knew the meaning of this message, but even being
made a prisoner by his own soldiery did not quell his spirit.

But the presence of Napoleon at Malmaison embarrassed the Government,
and Becker had orders to convey Napoleon with all speed to the Isle
of Aix. Accordingly they set out, and reached Rochefort on July 3,
where he remained until the 8th, when he embarked on board the ‘Saale’
frigate, but without any hope of getting to sea, because of the
blockade of the port by the ‘Bellerophon’ and other English men-of-war.
He occasionally landed on the Isle of Aix; but all hopes of reaching
America seem to have been abandoned, as Las Cases and Savary were sent
on board the ‘Bellerophon’ to inquire of Captain Maitland whether he
knew anything of the passports Napoleon expected from the British
Government, and whether any opposition would be offered to his sailing
to the United States. Captain Maitland replied that he knew nothing
of the intentions of his Government, but he certainly could not allow
any ship-of-war to leave the port, and in the course of conversation
asked, ‘Why not seek an asylum in England?’

The hint thus dropped fructified; for, after another visit of Las Cases
and General Lallemand on board the ‘Bellerophon’ on July 14, avowedly
to repeat their previous questions, the matter was openly discussed,
and on mentioning the result of their interview to the Emperor he
agreed to this course, and desired Las Cases to tell Captain Maitland
to prepare and receive him and his suite the next day. At the same time
he entrusted General Gourgaud with an autograph letter to the Prince
Regent, directing him to take it to England and deliver it into the
Prince’s own hands.

From the date of this letter, which was the 13th, it would seem that
Napoleon had, on the previous day, made up his mind what course to
pursue. The following is the text of the letter:--

    Your Royal Highness,

    Exposed to the factions which divide my Country, and to the
    enmity of the greatest Powers of Europe, I have terminated
    my political career; and I come, like Themistocles, to throw
    myself upon the hospitality of the British People. I place
    myself under the protection of their laws, which I claim from
    your Royal Highness, as the most powerful, the most constant,
    and the most generous, of my enemies.


    Rochefort, 13th July, 1815.

On the 15th, then, Napoleon and suite went on board the ‘Bellerophon,’
where they were received by Captain Maitland and his officers; the
Emperor saying, ‘I am come to throw myself on the Protection of your
Prince and Laws.’

Caricature of such a scene seems to be in very bad taste, but as it
was done, and is so truly comic, I cannot refrain from reproducing it.


‘Compliments and Congées, or Little Boney’s surrender to the Tars of
Old England!!!’ is a highly humorous picture by G. Cruikshank (July
24, 1815). Napoleon surrenders himself, cringing and weeping, together
with his suite, whom he describes, on board the ‘Bellerophon,’ and is
received with due respect by Captain Maitland. The ex-Emperor says, ‘O,
Mr. Bull, I am so happy to see you, I always had a great regard for the
British Sailors, they are such noble fellows, so brave, so generous!!
You see I am in a great deal of trouble, but I hope you will take pity
on me and my suite, namely my barber, my cook, and my washerwoman,
together with a few of my _brave_ generals who ran away with me
from the Battle of Waterloo, and I do assure you we will have great
_pleasure_ in surrendering to the good English--I should feel extremely
obliged if you would take us to America, but if you will not, I beg you
will take us to England, for I hate those Bears, and cursed Cossacks,
and as for the French Nation now--why they may be d--d. Old England for
ever I say.’ And his suite servilely follow their fallen master’s lead
with cries of ‘Vivent les Anglais!’

Captain Maitland receives him with doffed hat and his hand on his
heart, saying, ‘Indeed Mr. Boney I am greatly obliged to you for your
compliments, and I assure you we are as happy to receive you, as you
are to surrender. I’m afraid they would not take that care of you in
America, that they will in England. Therefore I shall conduct you to
the latter place, as quick as possible.’ The opinions of the sailors
are more graphic than polite: ‘My eyes, what a sneaking hound he is!!’
‘I say Jack, do you think they’ll clap him in Exeter Change amongst the
wild beasts?’ ‘No, I suppose as how he’ll be put in the Monkey’s den in
the Tower, or else they’ll send him about with the dancing bear!’

Charles etched (July 15, 1815) ‘The Bone-a-part in a fresh place.’
This represents Bonaparte caught in a spring man-trap, which has
broken his leg. He surrenders his sword to John Bull, who is dressed
as a gardener: ‘Here take this Mr. Bull, you have me in your power--I
must trust to your usual generosity, and most humbly acknowledge that
I am truly sorry I ever came here.’ John Bull makes no answer, but
soliloquises thus instead: ‘He has plundered most of his neighbours’
Gardens, but I thought he would be sorry if ever he set his foot in
mine. I suppose this big sword is what he intended to cut my cabbages
with, and perhaps my head too! but I’ll have it for a pruning knife,
’twill serve me to lop his Branches with, if any should spring up after
I have taken care of him.’

G. Cruikshank, in August 1815, published a contrast--‘Buonaparte on
the 17th of June--Buonaparte on the 17th of July, 1815.’ On the former
date he is seen vapouring on the French coast, flourishing his sword,
and calling out, ‘Ha, ha, you Bull beast, you Blackguard Islander, you
see I am come back again, and now you shall see what I shall do with
you, you wretch! you thought I was done over, did you? you thought I
was going to stay at Elba? D--n all Elbas, abdications, Englishmen and
their Allies. I’ll play Hell with them all.’ John Bull, seated securely
on his own shore, calmly enjoying his tankard of ale and his long clay
pipe, puffs out a huge mouthful of smoke at his adversary, with a
contemptuous ‘You may be d--d. I’ll make a Tobacco stopper of you.’

But within one short month what a change had come over the scene!
Napoleon, a weeping, kneeling suppliant, on board the ‘Bellerophon,’
moans out:--

  O good Mr. Bull! I wish you to know
  (Although you are my greatest foe,)
  That my career is at an end:
  And I wish you now to stand my friend.
  For, though at the Battle of Waterloo
  I was by you beat black & blue,
  Yet you see I wish to live with you,
  For I’m sure what is said of your goodness is true.
  And now if in England you’ll let me remain
  I ne’er will be guilty of bad Tricks again.

John Bull, however, knowing the slippery customer he has to deal with,
reflects: ‘Let me see;--first of all you sprung from the _Island_ of
_Corsica_, and when you was kick’d out of France, and went to the
_Island_ of _Elba_, you made another spring into France again.--And now
when you are kick’d out of France a second time, you want to come and
live on my _Island_--But it won’t do, Master Boney;--you’ll be making
another spring into France again, I suppose--so I tell you what--I’ll
send you to the _Island_ of _St. Helena_, and we’ll see what sort of a
spring you’ll make then.’

George Cruikshank contributes a very badly drawn etching (September
1, 1815) of ‘Boney’s threatened Invasion brought to bear,--or, taking
a View of the English coast from y^e Poop of the Bellerophon.’ The
English coast is represented by a ‘Citadel,’ in front of which is a
gallows prepared. One of his suite points it out to him: ‘By gar! mon
Emperor, dey have erect von prospect for you.’ Napoleon, who is mounted
on a breech of the gun, looks through his telescope and says, ‘Me no
like the d--n prospect.’ A Jack Tar sitting on another gun gives as his
opinion, ‘I thinks as how, Master Boney, that instead of sending you
to _Hell bay_, they should have sent you to Hell at once.’


      TO ST. HELENA.

On board the ‘Bellerophon’ he was treated with every consideration
by Captain Maitland. He was still looked upon as Emperor, and dined
off his own gold plate, the dinner being ordered by his own _maître
d’hôtel_; and when he visited the ‘Superb’ he was received with all
the honours accorded to royalty, with the exception of a salute being
fired. On the 16th July they set sail for England, and at daybreak on
the 24th they were close to Dartmouth. Napoleon rose at six and went on
the poop, surveying the coast, which he much admired: ‘What a beautiful
country! it very much resembles Porto Ferrajo at Elba.’

About eight A.M. they anchored at Torbay, and no sooner was it known
that Napoleon was on board the ‘Bellerophon’ than the bay was covered
with vessels and boats full of people. A neighbouring gentleman sent
the Emperor a present of fruit. What a different reception from the
language of the ‘Times’[56]:--

‘Our paper of this day will satisfy the sceptics, for such there were
beginning to be, as to the capture of that bloody miscreant, who has
so long tortured Europe, NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. Savages are always found
to unite the greatest degree of cunning to the ferocious part of their
nature. The cruelty of this person is written in characters of blood
in almost every country in Europe, and in the contiguous angles of
Africa and Asia which he visited and nothing can more strongly evince
the universal conviction of his low, perfidious craft, than the opinion
which was beginning to get abroad, that even after his capture had been
officially announced, in both France, and England, he might yet have
found means to escape. However, all doubts upon this point are at an
end, by his arrival off the British coast; and, if he be not now placed
beyond the possibility of again outraging the peace of Europe, England
will certainly never again deserve to have heroes such as those who
have fought, and bled, at Waterloo, for this, his present overthrow.
The lives of the brave men who fell on that memorable day will have
been absolutely thrown away by a thoughtless country; the grand object
attained by their valour will have been frustrated, and we shall do
little less than insult over their remains, almost before they have
ceased to bleed. But Fortune, seconding their undaunted efforts, has
put it in our power to do far otherwise.

‘Captain Sartorius of the _Slaney_ frigate, arrived yesterday with
dispatches from Captain Maitland of the _Bellerophon_, confirming
all the antecedent accounts of Buonaparte’s surrender, with various
other details, and closing them by their natural catastrophe--his
safe conveyance to England. He is, therefore, what we may call, here.
Captain Sartorius delivered his dispatches to Lord Melville, at
Wimbledon, by whom their contents were communicated to Lord Liverpool,
at his seat at Combe Wood; summonses were immediately issued for a
Cabinet Council to meet at 12 o’clock; what passed there was, of
course, not suffered to transpire; our narrative must therefore revert
to the _Slaney_ frigate, and the accounts brought by her. She had been
sent forward by Captain Maitland to Plymouth, with the dispatches
announcing that Buonaparte was on board the _Bellerophon_, with a
numerous suite. But it was the intention of Captain Maitland himself,
to proceed to Torbay, and not to land his prisoners until he had
received orders from Government.

‘Buonaparte’s suite, as it is called, consists of upwards of 40
persons, among whom was Bertrand, Savary, Lallemand! Grogan,[57] and
several women. He has been allowed to take on board carriages and
horses, but admission was denied to about 50 cavalry, for whom he had
the impudence to require accommodation. This wretch has really lived
in the commission of every crime, so long, that he has lost all sight
and knowledge of the difference that exists between good and evil, and
hardly knows when he is doing wrong, except he be taught by proper
chastisement. A creature--who ought to be greeted with a gallows as
soon as he lands--to think of an attendance of fifty horsemen! He had
at first wanted to make conditions with Captain Maitland as to his
treatment, but the British officer very properly declared that he must
refer him upon this subject to his Government.

‘When he had been some time on board, he asked the Captain what chance
two large frigates, well manned, would have with a seventy-four. The
answer, we understand, which he received to this enquiry, did not give
him any cause to regret that he had not tried his fortune in a naval
combat with the relative forces in question. By the way, we should
not have been surprised if he had come into an action with the two
frigates, and then endeavoured to escape in his own, and leave the
other to her fate. It has been the constant trick of this villain,
whenever he has got his companions into a scrape, to leave them in it,
and seek his own safety by flight. In Egypt, in the Moscow expedition,
and at Waterloo, such was his conduct.

‘He likewise had the assurance to address a letter to the Prince
Regent, and M. Grogan, one of his party, was put on board the _Slaney_
as the bearer of it; but when this vessel reached Plymouth, the officer
on duty there, with a decision that does him credit, refused Grogan
permission to land: the letter is said to have been conveyed by Captain
Sartorius, and its purport was understood, on board, to be a request
for passports for America. We should have supposed that he had received
too many checks before, for his presumption in addressing letters to
the British Government, ever to have hazarded that experiment again;
but all reproofs are thrown away upon his callous heart;--not that we
should object to his humbly addressing the British throne for mercy, if
he has anything to urge in extenuation of his crimes; but the time has
not yet come; a momentary gleam of resolution on the part of his own
Government, indicated by the imprisonment of Labédoyère, and others,
led us to hope that his trial might have been safely entrusted to
those to whom it primarily, and of natural right, belongs; but, though
this hope may have proved transitory, he is not, therefore, above the
criminal justice of other countries, where established law, and a
regular execution of it, prevails.

‘The first procedure, we trust, will be a special commission, or the
appointment of a court martial, to try him for the murder of Captain
Wright. It is nonsense to say, as some have, that courts martial are
instituted only to try offences committed by soldiers of the country
to which they belong: it was an American court martial that tried and
shot Major André as a spy; and Buonaparte himself appointed commissions
of all kinds, and in all countries, to try offences committed against

The same paper says: ‘As soon as an august personage was informed of
the capture of Buonaparte, he communicated this important intelligence
to a prince of his family--“The ancient fable is at length realised:
the _Chimera_ is in the power of _Bellerophon_, and will not this time
escape again.”

‘[Every reader knows that the Chimera was a terrible monster that
vomited fire.]’

Rowlandson gives us (July 28, 1815) ‘Boney’s Trial, Sentence and Dying
Speech, or Europe’s injuries revenged.’ Boney is in the felon’s dock,
backed up by his old friend the Devil. His indictment sets forth thus:
‘Napolean Boneparte, The first and last, by the wrath of Heaven, Ex
Emperor of Jacobins and Head Runner of Runaways, stands indicted 1st
for the murder of Captain Wright, in the Temple at Paris. 2nd for the
murder of the Duke d’Enghien, Pichegru and Georges. 3rd for the murder
of Palm, Hofer, &c. &c. 4th for the murder of the 12 inhabitants of
Moscow. 5th for innumerable Robberies committed on all Nations in
Christendom, and elsewhere. 6th for bigamy, and lastly for returning
from Transportation, and setting the World in an uproar.’ Blücher
presides, assisted by all the European sovereigns, and gives sentence
thus: ‘You, Nap Boneparte, being found guilty of all these crimes, it
is fell to my lot to pronounce sentence of Death upon you. You are to
be hung by the neck for one hour, till you are _Dead, dead, dead_, and
your body to be chained to a mill stone, and sunk in the sea at Torbay.’

Napoleon, terrified at this sentence, weepingly implores, ‘Oh Cruel
Blucher! Oh Cruel Wellington! it is you that have brought me to this
end. Oh, magnanimous Emperors, Kings and Princes! intercede for me,
and spare my life, and give me time to atone for all my sins. My Son,
Napoleon the Second, will reward you for mercy shewn me.’

On July 26 orders came for the ‘Bellerophon’ to go to Plymouth;
which being reached, two frigates, the ‘Liffey’ and ‘Eurotas,’ were
anchored, one on either side of her, and kept strict guard over her. No
boat from the shore was allowed to come within a cable’s length of her,
and ships’ boats continually rowing around kept that space clear.

The following description is by an eye-witness[58]:--

  There is nothing so dull as mere fact, you’ll admit,
  While you read my detail, unenlivened by wit.
  My friends will believe, though they’re told it in rhyme,
  That I thought to return in a far shorter time.
  When at once we’re resolv’d, by half past on the move,
  And by two, but a trio, we reach Mutton Cove;
  When approaching the quay, such a rabble and rout,
  That we ask ‘My good friend, what is all this about?’
  ‘They are rowing a race, and some boats are come in,
  While these people are waiting till t’ others begin.’
  Well aware of our folly, with risible lip,
  The boatman we told to make haste to _the_ ship;
  On the colours of fish,[59] here by hampers-full landing,
  We gaze for amusement, while still we’re kept standing;
  At length to the Admiral’s stairs we have got,
  See his party on board, and hear tunes from his yacht.
  The day is delightful, the gale just enough
  For the sea to look lively without being rough.
  With those first at the ship, our sight costs the dearer,
  As we’ve longer to wait, and not, in the end, nearer;
  For by land, and by water, so different the case is,
  ’Twas long before we were jam’d into our places;
  But on further advice we’ll at present be dumb,
  For half the spectators you know, are now come:
  In one boat, a bevy, all sarcenet and veil,
  In the next some good fellows while toping their ale.
  ‘Avast! here’s the guard boat.’ ‘Aye here it comes smack.’
  And the ladies cry ‘Captain they’ll drive us all back.’
  Then some bully our men, with ‘Skull out there, skull out,’
  And others check these with ‘Mind what you’re about.’
  Here’s a crazy old boat, laded dry by a shoe,
  There, a gay painted barge is forced on our view;
  In this, while Don Solus is jeered by the mob,
  ‘See that empty boat, turn it out.’ ‘Here’s a fine job.’
  Cries one, of some dozens squeezed into the next,
  ‘I’ve left the pork pie, Oh dear I’m so vex’d.’
  In the long boat, that shews us profusion of oar,
  From the Captain bursts forth, a most terrible roar
  At his men, but the anger about who, or what,
  Though they still remember, we soon had forgot.
  Here infants were crying, mothers scolding downright,
  While the next party laughs at some comical sight.
  Now watches and spy-glasses make their appearance,
  And Impatience, that vixen, begins interference;
  To beguile her, through portholes we eagerly stare,
  For the nobles on deck are all taking the air.
  ‘Hey dey what a bustle!’ then ‘All safe, all safe.’
  The crowd is return’d to its chatter and laugh.
  ‘Pray what was the matter?’ ‘From that boat, near the ship,
  A woman fell over, and so got a dip.’
  But a hum of applause, yes, his triumph is full,
  Yet this hum of applause has betrayed our John Bull,
  ‘What hum of applause? come I prithee be brief:’
  Why John was delighted to see them _ship beef_.
  With a smile ’tis observed by the Briton polite,
  How the glee of the crowd was improv’d, by the sight,
  For the rough, honest tar, had declared from his heart,
  That he thought this a sight that would beat Bonaparte.
  Some, again, with composure, predict peace and war,
  Others look at the great folks, and fancy a star;
  But we, much fatigued, six o’clock now approaching,
  And on our good nature we thought them encroaching,
  When boats are made bridges, nay, tempted to think,
  That through some of these freedoms, not strange we should sink.
  But here I must mention, when all was most merry,
  As here is each size, from the long boat to wherry,
  When the crowd should disperse, I was fearful, I own,
  Lest your small boats, by barges, should then be run down.
  But a truce with our hopes, our predictions and fears,
  For now, yes at last, our grand object appears;
  And now every eye to the ship is directed,
  Though to see Bonaparte, I no longer expected;
  For between us what number of men! and aghast
  We stood, as still thicker and thicker the mast. [? _mass_]
  But now see Napoleon, who seems in his figure,
  What we call mediocre, nor smaller, nor bigger;
  For in spite of our fears, how it was, I can’t tell,
  What our distance allowed of, we saw very well.
  But in this we’re full right, for now, hurry scurry,
  Boat rows against boat, with the madness of fury;
  The show was all over, but time was outstaid
  By some, and by others, attempts were still made
  To get round the ship, in hopes Bonaparte might
  At some place yet be seen, thus to perfect their sight.

This doggerel helps us to realise the intense desire of the British
public to get at least a glimpse at Boney, that great bugbear who for
so many years had been so great a terror to them, and whose existence
everyone, from the highest to the lowest, had acutely felt in that
tenderest place of our social economy--the breeches pocket. They all
but carried out the threat, made twelve years previously, of putting
him in Pidcock’s Menagerie, _vide_ the following extracts from a
contemporary pamphlet[60]:--

‘The desire of all ranks to see him was excessive; the guardboats were
unable to prevent them from closing the ship, and it was amusement on
board to look at the boats contending for places. Napoleon generally
walked the quarterdeck about eleven in the forenoon, and half past six
in the afternoon. He ate but two meals in the day, both alike, meat
of every description, different wines, coffee, fruit, &c. Immediately
after each meal he rose first, and the others followed; he then either
went on the quarterdeck or in the after-cabin to study. The comedy of
_The Poor Gentleman_[61] was performed before him; he was much pleased
at it; it went off very well; the scenery was good, but somewhat better
dresses were wanted for the _female midshipmen_.[62]

‘The immense number of persons who daily flock from all parts of the
country to take a view of the person of Napoleon is incalculable. He
generally gratified the public curiosity by making his appearance every
afternoon for two hours.

‘Upwards of one thousand boats were from morning to night round the
_Bellerophon_. The seamen of the _Bellerophon_ adopted a curious
mode to give an account to the curious spectators in the boats of
the movements of Napoleon. They wrote in chalk, on a board, which
they exhibited, a short account of his different occupations--“At
breakfast”--“In the cabin with Captain Maitland”--“Writing with his
officers”--“Going to dinner”--“Coming upon deck,” &c.’

Las Cases says: ‘It was known that he always appeared on deck towards
five o’clock. A short time before this hour, all the boats collected
alongside of each other; there were thousands; and so closely were
they connected, that the water could no longer be seen between them.
They looked more like a multitude assembled in a public square than
anything else. When the Emperor came out, the noise and gestures of so
many people presented a most striking spectacle; it was, at the same
time, very easy to perceive that nothing hostile was meant, and that,
if curiosity had brought them, they felt interested on going away. We
could even see that the latter sentiment continued to increase; at
first, people merely looked toward the ship, they ended by saluting;
some remained uncovered, and, occasionally, went so far as to cheer.
Even our symbols began to appear amongst them. Several individuals of
both sexes came decorated with red carnations.’

Napoleon knew that St. Helena had been fixed upon as the place of
his future residence, and did not at all relish the idea; but it was
not officially announced to him until July 30 or 31, when Lord Keith
went on board the ‘Bellerophon’ and presented him with the following

    ‘_Communication made by Lord Keith, in the name of the English

    ‘As it may, perhaps, be convenient for General Buonaparte to
    learn, without further delay, the intentions of the British
    Government with regard to him, your Lordship will communicate
    the following information.

    ‘It would be inconsistent with our duty towards our country
    and the Allies of his Majesty, if General Buonaparte possessed
    the means of again disturbing the repose of Europe. It is on
    this account, that it becomes absolutely necessary he should be
    restrained in his personal liberty, so far as this is required
    by the foregoing important object.

    ‘The island of St. Helena has been chosen as his future
    residence; its climate is healthy, and its local position will
    allow of his being treated with more indulgence than could
    be admitted in any other spot, owing to the indispensable
    precautions which it would be necessary to employ for the
    security of his person.

    ‘General Buonaparte is allowed to select amongst those persons
    who accompanied him to England (with the exception of Generals
    Savary and Lallemand) three officers, who, together with his
    surgeon, will have permission to accompany him to St. Helena;
    these individuals will not be allowed to quit the island
    without the sanction of the British Government.

    ‘Rear Admiral Sir George Cockburn, who is named Commander in
    Chief at the Cape of Good Hope, and seas adjacent, will convey
    General Buonaparte and his suite to St. Helena; and he will
    receive detailed instructions relative to the execution of this

    ‘Sir G. Cockburn will, most probably, be ready to sail in a few
    days; for which reason, it is desirable that General Buonaparte
    should make choice of the persons who are to accompany him,
    without delay.’

    Of this interview Las Cases says: ‘I was not called before
    the Emperor. The bearers of his sentence spoke and understood
    French; they were admitted alone. I have since heard that
    he objected, and protested, with no less energy than logic,
    against the violence exercised on his person. “He was the guest
    of England,” said Napoleon, “and not its prisoner; he came of
    his own accord to place himself under the protection of its
    laws; the most sacred rights of hospitality were violated in
    his person; he would never submit voluntarily to the outrage
    they were preparing for him: violence alone should oblige him
    to do so,” &c.’



That the Government was in earnest, as to his departure, was soon
shown, for orders came on August 4 for the ‘Bellerophon’ to weigh, and
join the ‘Northumberland,’ which was the ship in which Napoleon was to
take his passage to St. Helena. He issued a formal protest:--

    I hereby solemnly protest in the face of heaven and mankind
    against the violence that is done me; and the violation of my
    most sacred rights, in forcibly disposing of my person and
    liberty. I voluntarily came on board the _Bellerophon_--I am
    not the prisoner, I am the guest of England. I came at the
    instigation of the Captain himself, who said he had orders
    from the Government to receive and convey me to England,
    together with my suite, if agreeable to me. I came forward with
    confidence to place myself under the protection of the laws of
    England. When once on board the _Bellerophon_, I was entitled
    to the hospitality of the British people. If the Government, in
    giving the Captain of the _Bellerophon_ orders to receive me
    and my followers, only wished to lay a snare, it has forfeited
    its honour, and disgraced its flag.

    If this act be consummated, it will be in vain for the English,
    henceforth, to talk of their sincerity, their laws, and
    liberties. British faith will have been lost in the hospitality
    of the _Bellerophon_.

    I appeal to History; it will say, that an enemy, who made
    war for twenty years against the English people, came
    spontaneously, in the hour of misfortune, to seek an asylum
    under their laws. What more striking proof could he give of his
    esteem and confidence? But how did England reply to such an
    act of magnanimity? It pretended to hold out a hospitable hand
    to this enemy: and on giving himself up with confidence, he was


    _Bellerophon_, at Sea. Friday, Aug. 4th, 1815.

On the 6th they anchored off Start Point, and were soon joined by the
‘Northumberland’ and two frigates, full of soldiers, who were to form
the garrison of St. Helena. By order, their arms were taken from them,
with the exception of Napoleon, who was allowed to keep his sword; all
their money, diamonds, and saleable effects were put under seal; but
Napoleon might keep his plate, baggage, wines, and provisions. The
search of his personal effects greatly exasperated him.

Between one and two o’clock P.M. of the 7th, the transfer from the
‘Bellerophon’ to the ‘Northumberland’ was made, and then, as there
was nothing else to wait for, ‘Cæsar and his fortunes’ sailed for St.

The ‘Times’ (August 11, 1815) has the following short leader: ‘We
trust that we now, at last, take a long leave of NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE,
except that we may, occasionally, have to instance him as an example
of every crime, for the benefit of others: and, if the hand of man has
dealt too leniently by his offences, it must not, on that occasion,
be conceived that he is exempt from every other punishment. To what
profession of faith he may now belong, we know not, as we believe he
has been Atheist, Mahometan, and Roman Catholic, in succession, as
best suited the particular purpose of the moment: indeed, such was the
inherent baseness of the man, notwithstanding his eminent talents, and
incessant activity, that he was in the habitual practice of the meanest
arts of deception for the promotion of his interest, never blushing
at the subsequent exposure of his falsehoods, or the discovery of his
expedients, provided they had first promoted the object he had in view.

‘Yet if he is still a man, he must, now that he is reduced to solitude
and leisure, have some religion or other engraven in his soul, that
will make him feel compunction for the many horrible atrocities of
which he has been guilty. It is said that he needs incessant exercise
for the relief of his bilious complaint; perhaps, also, he may now
first discover that he has need of incessant bustle also, in order to
abstract his attention from a certain mental malady, called an evil
conscience. In the midst of the horror which his crimes always excited
in well-constituted minds, throughout Europe, there was a certain
mixture of contempt, or derision, excited by the little knaveries which
he practised, and the same feeling will not fail to mingle itself
in this the closing scene of his drama, on observing the attendants
of such a man, who had been used to sport with oaths, to laugh at
engagements, to make a mockery of religion, to commit or direct murder
in all its forms, from the midnight assassination, up to the boundless
slaughter of the tented field, anxious to provide for the amusement
of his, and their, declining years, by a stock of cards, domino and
backgammon tables.’

Whilst they are on their journey, we will just glance at the few
remaining caricatures.

‘The Ex-Emperor in a bottle’ is a somewhat serious, and well-executed,
engraving (August 25, 1815). Napoleon is enclosed in a glass bottle,
which the Prince Regent, who wears a superb hussar uniform, has just
sealed with a seal bearing the imprint of a cannon and the legend
_Martial Achievements_; around are grouped the figures named in the
following verses--Louis the Eighteenth being on his knees, his eyes
being raised in pious thankfulness to Heaven.

  Ambition’s dread career at length is o’er,
  And weeping Europe hopes for peace once more;
  Sov’reigns in arms, at length the world have freed,
  And Britain’s warlike sons no more shall bleed:
  The great Napoleon now resigns his sway,
  And in a bottle seal’d is borne away.

  England’s great Prince, whom Europe does confess
  The potent friend of Freedom in distress,
  With _Allies_ brave, to the world impartial,
  Seal’d up their foe with _Achievements martial_,
  That he no more disturb the tranquil World,
  Nor be again his bloody flag unfurl’d.

  ’Twas Alexander great, of generous mind,
  With zealous Frederick, who to peace inclined,
  Resolv’d with Francis, in propitious hour,
  To free old Gallia from the Despot’s power.
  Her tyrannic Lord from rule is driven,
  And grateful Louis offers thanks to Heaven.

  The _Martial Heroes_ next a tribute claim,
  First Wellington, immortal is his fame:
  And Blücher, who, for valour long renown’d,
  Compell’d the Tyrant’s legions to give ground:
  The cautious Swartzenberg, of wise delays,
  And the brave Platoff, ask their share of praise.

‘The downfall of Tyranny and return of Peace’ is by George Cruikshank,
and, although not dated, is undoubtedly of the autumn of 1815. Justice,
with a flaming sword, has banished Napoleon to his rock of St. Helena,
where, chained, he is seized upon by the fiend as his own. Peace with
her olive branch, Plenty with her cornucopia, Agriculture and Commerce,
are welcomed by Britannia with open arms.

Marks (August 1815) drew ‘The Exile of St. Helena, or Boney’s
Meditation,’ in which there is a fairly accurate delineation of the
Rocky Island and its little town. Napoleon is standing with his feet
astride, each planted on a rock on either side the bay; he weeps
copiously, and the expression of his countenance is very rueful.


The Devil addressing the Sun.--_Paradise Lost_, Book IV.]

‘Napoleon’s trip from Elba to Paris, and from Paris to St. Helena’ is
the title of three engravings on one sheet, by G. Cruikshank (September
1, 1815). In the first compartment is shown the battle of Waterloo,
with the French army in full flight. Napoleon is seated on the French
Eagle, which, however, has but one wing, for, as it mournfully
observes, ‘My _left_ wing has entirely disappeared.’ The Emperor, whose
crown and sceptre have fallen from him, clutches the bird round the
neck, exclaiming: ‘Sauve qui peut--the Devil take the hindmost--Run, my
boys, your Emperor leads the way--My dear eagle, only conduct me safe
to Paris this time, as you did from Moscow and Leipsig, and I’ll never
trouble you again--Oh! d--n that Wellington!’

The middle picture shows Napoleon in the stern gallery of the
‘Bellerophon,’ talking to John Bull, who sits by his fireside placidly
smoking his pipe as usual. Says the ex-Emperor: ‘My most powerful and
generous enemy, how do you do? I come, like Themistocles, to seat
myself upon your hearth--I am very glad to see you.’ John Bull replies:
‘So am I glad to see you Mr. Boney, but I’ll be d--d if you sit upon my
hearth, or any part of my house--it has cost me a pretty round sum to
catch you, Mr. Themistocles, as you call yourself, but now I have got
you, I’ll take care of you.’

The third is a sad one. Napoleon is at St. Helena, reduced to the sport
of catching rats. Across his breast he wears a broad leather scarf,
covered with brass rats, and sits moodily before a baited trap, into
which the rats decline to enter. He thus soliloquises:--

  Alas! that I who caught Imperial flats,
  Should now sit here to watch these scurvy rats.
  I, who Madrid, Berlin, Vienna, Moscow, took,
  Am doom’d, with cheese, to bait a rusty hook!
  Was it for this I tried to save my bacon.
  To use it now for Rats, that won’t be taken?
  Curse their wise souls! I had not half such trouble
  Their European brethren to bubble.
  When I, myself, was hail’d as Emperor Nap,
  Emperors and Kings I had within my trap:
  And to this moment might have kept them there,
  Had I not gone to hunt the Russian bear.

One of his suite sees a rat coming: ‘Ah! mon Dieu! Dere, your Majesty,
dere be de vilain rogues--Ah, monsieur rat, why you not pop your nose
into de trap, and let de august Emperor catch you?’ A female attendant,
with a slice of bacon on a fork, says, ‘Will your Majesty be please to
try dis bit of bacon? Ah! de cunning rascal! Dere! ma foi! he sniff at
de bacon.’

‘General Sans Pareil’ (September 1, 1815) is an extremely elaborate
picture, far too much so for reproduction; therefore it will be
better to give the description at the foot of the figure: ‘The above
Portrait of Buonaparte, may be considered as an emblematical Index of
his extraordinary Life. The Design reflects the highest credit on the
Artist, who is a Frenchman: he has judiciously formed the Hat of the
different _Crowns_ which Buonaparte placed on other Men’s _Heads_. The
position of the forefinger and thumb are particularly deserving of
notice, with the words _Moreau_ and _Pichegru_ on them, indicating that
_Moreau_ was his guide or _finger-post_ to all his victories; and the
word _Pichegru_ being on his thumb, is meant to imply that he always
had him in view as being one great obstacle to his rising greatness;
while in the other hand he holds a nooze, or rope, as the means of
ridding himself of so formidable an enemy. The words on his Breast are
the names of the different kingdoms he has overrun or conquered. His
Waistcoat is ornamented with the figures of the different Kings he had
made; the French call them “_La folie fabrique de sire_”: indicative,
that while the dark clouds of despotism hung over Buonaparte’s empire,
his Kings reflected their borrowed lustre; but when once the Sun of
universal restitution darted forth its rays, they melted “like wax
before the sun.” The artist has well contrived to put the little King
of Rome, as a monkey, above the heads of the other Kings. The Bales and
Casks of Goods, on his left thigh, denote the stoppage of Trade which
his system of warfare had brought on the French People. The Beet root
refers to the Decree issued for making Sugar of that plant, when he
had lost all his West India Possessions. On his legs are represented
Skulls, symbolic of Death, who accompanied him wherever he trod--His
sword, which so often paralyzed the world, and conquered with a
rapidity hitherto unknown, is placed in the form of a Comet or Meteor.
Such is this brief and imperfect delineation of the above extremely
curious and interesting Portrait.’

‘Boxiana--or the Fancy’ (artist unknown), October 1, 1815, shows the
popular idea of the treatment Napoleon received. The gross, corpulent
Prince Regent has thrown down his traditional three feathers, and
is, like the ex-Emperor, stripped for the fight. Napoleon is on the
ground, and the Regent is kicking him. A sweep has picked up one of the
Prince’s feathers, and shows it to Napoleon’s backer, saying, ‘Master,
I found a white feather.’ The backer calls out, ‘Foul! foul! by all the
rules of honor! why even blackey cries shame.’ A negro, who is acting
as bottle-holder, cries out:--

  What, Ben, my big hero, is this thy renown?
  Is this the new go? Kick a man when he’s down!
  When the foe has knock’d under, to tread on him then,
  By the fist of my father, I blush for thee, Ben!

The Regent’s backer explains, ‘He’s only kicking, to try if there’s
any honor there, Blackey.’ One of the spectators imagines that
‘Themistocles will be well treated if we can find any honor in him!’
Another says, ‘Or we must send Themistocles to acquire honor at Botany.’

A French spectator turns to an Englishman, saying, ‘Ah, je vois, you
be de Jentelman! n’est ce pas bien Sauvage, Sare?’ The reply is, ‘Bien
shove a----e No, d----e! mounseer, I think it more like kicking than
shoving.’ Another astonished looker-on exclaims, ‘Vy, Charly, vot
sort of a go d’you call this?’ And a Frenchman advises his defeated
champion, ‘Vy you no go to de Russia, you only get little squeeze.’



The ‘Northumberland’ crossed the Line on September 23, and the sailors
had their then usual bit of fun. Neptune and Amphitrite came on board,
and Napoleon’s suite were introduced to them in a ceremonious and
courtly manner, escaping the usual ordeal by some small presents to
their Majesties. Napoleon, of course, was sacred, and, when he was
told of the extreme, and unusual, tenderness with which his followers
had been treated, he wanted to give the crew a hundred napoleons; but
the admiral would not allow it. The caricaturist, however, gives a
different version of the affair.

‘Boney crossing the Line’ is by Marks (September 1815), and illustrates
the rough sports which then obtained on board ship. Napoleon,
blindfolded, is thrown into a tub, where he is being subjected to the
usual rough usage, at the command of Neptune, who, with his spouse,
are drawn on a gun-carriage by sailors. Neptune says, ‘I command
you’l cleanse him from his iniquities.’ Poor Boney little likes his
treatment, ‘I no like de English valet de Chambre, Have mercy.’ Two
French generals stand by, blindfolded, ready to undergo the same
treatment. One says, ‘I wish de Dirty Job was over;’ the other, ‘Be
gar, me no like de shaving shop.’ But a sailor remarks to them, ‘Have
Patience Gentlemen, and we’ll shave you directly, and give you a good
_lathering_ as Old Blucher did!!!’

[Illustration: FAST COLOURS.]

The last caricature I shall reproduce is called ‘Fast Colours, Patience
on a monument smiling at grief, or the Royal Laundress washing Boney’s
Court dresses (G. H. inv^t, G. Cruikshank fec^t October 26, 1815).’
It shows the poor fatuous Bourbon trying to wash out the tricolour,
thus bemoaning the task: ‘Bless me, how _fast_ these _colours_ are,
I’m afraid I shall not get them _white_,[63] altho’ I have got such
a strong lather.’ Napoleon, seated on his rocky home, says, ‘Ha, ha!
such an old woman as you, may rub a long while before they’ll be all
_white_, for they are _tricoloured in grain_.’ There is another print
of the same date and subject, uncoloured, which has the addition of
Wellington, Russia, Prussia, and Austria stirring linen in a copper of
_Holy Water_.

From this time the caricatures of Napoleon practically ceased; and,
in the collection of prints in the British Museum, I can find but two
more, published in 1816--the ‘Mat de Cocagne’ and ‘Royal Christmas
boxes’--both of which are too silly to reproduce or describe. It is
to the credit of the English, that, in this instance, they respected
the fallen. Napoleon had been captured, disarmed, and held in safe
durance, and from that time, until his death, we hear but very little
of him, and none of that news is either satirical or spiteful. Clearly,
therefore, this book ends here. It has nothing to do with the voyage
to St. Helena, or with the perpetual squabbles of Napoleon and his
suite with Sir Hudson Lowe, which are fully recorded by O’Meara and Las
Cases. To all intents and purposes, Napoleon was dead to the English
when he left our shores; and when he passed to his rest on May 5, 1821,
all animosity died with him. Years had even tamed the bitter scribes of
the ‘Times,’ as is evidenced by the leader in that paper (July 5, 1821)
announcing and commenting on his decease:--

‘Thus terminates in exile, and in prison, the most extraordinary life
yet known to political history. The vicissitudes of such a life,
indeed, are the most valuable lessons which history can furnish.
Connected with, and founded on, the principles of his character, the
varieties of fortune which Buonaparte experienced are of a nature
to illustrate the most useful maxims of benevolence, patriotism, or
discretion. They embrace both extremes of the condition of man in
society, and therefore address themselves to all ranks of human beings.
But Buonaparte was our enemy--our defeated enemy--and, as Englishmen,
we must not tarnish our triumphs over the living warrior by unmanly
injustice towards the dead.

‘The details of his life are notorious, and we omit them. The community
of which Buonaparte was in his early days a member, and the military
education which he received, may, independently of any original bias
of character, have laid the foundation of the greatness to which he
attained, and of that mischievous application of unbridled power,
through which he fell very nearly to the level whence he first had
started. Nothing could be more corrupt than the morals of military
society among the French before the Revolution--nothing more selfish,
or contracted, than the views (at all times) of a thoroughbred military

‘Buonaparte came into active life with as much (but we have no reason
to think a larger share of) lax morality and pure selfishness as others
of his age and calling. The public crisis into which he was thrown,
gave to profound selfishness the form of insatiable ambition. With
talents and enterprise beyond all comparison greater than any against
which he had to contend, he overthrew whatever opposed his progress.
Thus, ambition in him was more conspicuous than others, only because it
was more successful. He became a sovereign. How, then, was this pupil
of a military school prepared to exercise the functions of sovereignty?
An officer, as such, has no idea of divided power. His patriotism is
simply love of his troops and his profession. He will obey commands--he
will issue them--but, in both cases, those commands are absolute. Talk
to him of deliberation, of debate, of freedom of action, of speech,
nay, of opinion--his _feeling_ is, that the body to which any of these
privileges shall be accessible, must fall into confusion, and be
speedily destroyed.

‘Whatever pretexts may have been resorted to by Buonaparte--whatever
Jacobin yells he may have joined in, to assist his own advance towards
power--every subsequent act of his life assures us, that the military
prepossessions in which he was educated, became those by which he was
influenced as a statesman; and we are well persuaded of his conviction,
that it was impossible for any country, above all, for France, to be
governed otherwise than by one sole authority--undivided and unlimited.
It may, we confess, be no satisfaction to the French, nor any great
consolation to the rest of Europe, to know through what means it
was, or by what vicious training, that Buonaparte was fitted, nay,
predestined almost, to be a scourge and destroyer of the rights of
nations, instead of employing a power irresistible, and which, in such
a cause, none would have felt disposed to resist, for the promotion of
knowledge, peace, and liberty throughout the world.

‘In hinting at what we conceive to be the fact, however, we are bound
by regard for truth; our business is not to apologize for Buonaparte;
but, so far as may be done within the brief limits of a newspaper, to
analyze, and faithfully describe, him. The factions, also, which he was
compelled to crush, and whose overthrow obtained for him the gratitude
of his country, still threatened a resurrection when the compressing
force should be withdrawn. Hence were pretexts furnished on behalf
of despotism of which men, more enlightened, and better constituted,
than Buonaparte, might not soon have discovered the fallacy. Raised
to empire at home, his ambition sought for itself fresh aliment; and
foreign conquest was at once tempting and easy.

‘Here the natural reflection will obtrude itself--what might not this
extraordinary being have effected for the happiness of mankind, and for
his own everlasting fame and grandeur, had he used but a moiety of the
force, or perseverance, in generous efforts to relieve the oppressed
which he wasted in rendering himself the monopolist and patron of
oppression! But he had left himself no resource. He had extinguished
liberty in France, and had no hold upon his subjects, but their love
of military glory. Conquest, therefore, succeeded to conquest, until
nothing capable of subjugation was left to be subdued. Insolence,
and rapacity, in the victor, produced, among the enslaved nations,
impatience of their misery, and a thirst for vengeance. Injustice
undermined itself, and Buonaparte, with his unseasoned empire, fell
together, the pageant of a day.

‘His military administration was marked by strict and impartial
justice. He had the art, in an eminent degree, of inciting the
emulation, and gaining the affections of his troops. He was steady and
faithful in his friendships, and not vindictive, on occasions where it
was his power to be so with impunity.

Of the deceased Emperor’s intellectual, and characteristic, ascendency
over men, all the French, and some of the other nations besides the
French, who had an opportunity of approaching him, can bear witness. He
seems to have possessed the talent, not merely of command, but, when he
pleased, of conciliation and persuasion. With regard to his religious
sentiments, they were, perhaps, of the same standard as those of other
Frenchmen starting into manhood at a time when Infidel writings had so
domineered over the popular mind, that revealed religion was become
a public laughing stock, and in a country where the pure Christian
faith was perplexed with subtilties, overloaded with mummeries, and
scandalized and discountenanced by a general looseness of morals. Upon
the whole, Buonaparte will go down to posterity as a man, who, having
more good at his disposal than any other potentate of any former age,
had actually applied his immense means to the production of a greater
share of mischief and misery to his fellow creatures--one who, on the
basis of French liberty, might have founded that of every other State
in Europe--but who carried on a series of aggressions against foreign
States to divert the minds of his own subjects from the sense of
their domestic slavery; thus imposing on foreign nations a necessity
for arming to shake off his yoke, and affording to foreign despots a
pretext for following his example.

‘The sensation produced by the death of Buonaparte will be a good deal
confined, in this country, to its effects as a partial relief to our
finances, the expense of his custody at St. Helena being little short
of 400,000_l._ per annum. In France, the sentiment will be more deep
and complex, and, perhaps, not altogether easy to define. The practical
consequence of such an event may be remotely guessed at by those who
have had occasion to watch, in other Governments, the difference
between a living and an extinct Pretender. A pretext for suspicion
and severity in the administration of affairs may be taken away by a
Pretender’s death; but then, a motive to moderation--a terror, now and
then salutary, of popular feelings being excited in the Pretender’s
favour by misgovernment--is, at the same time, removed from the minds
of reigning Princes. Buonaparte’s son still lives, it is true; but how
far he may ever become an object of interest with any great party of
the French nation, is a point on which we will not speculate.’

The last individual memorial I can find of Napoleon, in a popular form,
was published by Hone in May 1821. It is a black-edged sheet, having,
as heading, profile portraits of Napoleon, Maria Louisa, and the King
of Rome, and down the sides four full-length portraits of Napoleon. It
is called:--




    BORN 15 AUG. 1769.      DIED 5 MAY 1821.

    He put his foot on the neck of Kings, who would have put
    their yokes upon the necks of the People: he scattered before
    him with fiery execution, millions of hired slaves, who
    came at the bidding of their Masters to deny the right of
    others to be free. The monument of greatness and of Glory
    he erected, was raised on ground forfeited again and again
    to humanity--it reared its majestic front on the ruins of
    the shattered hopes and broken faith of the common enemies
    of mankind. If he could not secure the freedom, peace, and
    happiness of his country, he made her a terror to those who
    by sowing civil dissension, and exciting foreign wars, would
    not let her enjoy those blessings. They who had trampled
    upon Liberty could not at least triumph in her shame and her
    despair, but themselves became objects of pity and derision.
    Their determination to persist in extremity of wrong, only
    brought on themselves repeated defeat, disaster, and dismay:
    the accumulated aggressions their infuriated pride and
    disappointed malice meditated against others, returned in just
    and aggravated punishment upon themselves: they heaped coals of
    fire upon their own heads: they drank deep and long, in gall
    and bitterness, of the poisoned chalice they had prepared for
    others: the destruction with which they had threatened a people
    daring to call itself free, hung suspended over their heads,
    like a precipice, ready to fall upon and crush them. ‘Awhile
    they stood abashed,’ abstracted from their evil purposes, and
    felt how awful Freedom is, its power how dreadful. Shrunk
    from the boasted pomp of royal state into their littleness as
    men, defeated of their revenge, baulked of their prey, their
    schemes stripped of their bloated pride, and with nothing
    left but the deformity of their malice, not daring to utter
    a syllable or move a finger, the lords of the earth, who had
    looked upon men as of an inferior species, born for their use,
    and devoted to be their slaves, turned an imploring eye to the
    People, and with coward hearts and hollow tongues invoked the
    Name of Liberty, thus to get the people once more within their
    unhallowed grip, and to stifle the name of Liberty for ever.

    He withstood the inroads of _Legitimacy_, this new Jaggernaut,
    this foul Blatant Beast, as it strode forward to its prey over
    the bodies and minds of a whole People, and put a ring in its
    nostrils, breathing flame and blood, and led it in triumph,
    and played with its crowns and sceptres, and wore them in its
    stead, and tamed its crested pride, and made it a laughing
    stock and a mockery to the nations. He, one man, did this, and
    as long as he did this (how or for what end, is nothing to the
    magnitude of this mighty question) he saved the human race from
    the last ignominy, and that foul stain that had been so long
    intended, and was at last, in an evil hour, and by evil hands,
    inflicted on it.

    If NAPOLEON was a conqueror, he conquered the Grand Conspiracy
    of KINGS against the abstract right of the Human Race to be
    free. If he was ambitious, his greatness was not founded on
    the unconditional, avowed surrender of the rights of human
    nature. But, with him, the state of Man rose exalted too. If
    he was arbitrary and a tyrant, first, France as a country was
    in a state of military blockade, on garrison duty, and not to
    be defended by mere paper bullets of the brain; secondly, but
    chief, he was not, nor could he become, a tyrant by ‘right
    divine.’ Tyranny in him was not ‘sacred’: it was not eternal:
    it was not instinctively bound in league of amity with other
    tyrannies: it was not sanctioned by all ‘the laws of religion
    and Morality.’


  Disgusting crew! _who_ would not gladly fly
  To open, downright, boldfac’d tyranny,
  To honest guilt that dares do all but lie,
  From the false juggling craft of men like these,
  Their canting crimes, and varnish’d villanies;
  These HOLY LEAGUERS, who then loudest boast
  Of faith and honour when they’ve stain’d them most;
  From whose affection men should shrink as loath
  As from their hate, for they’ll be fleec’d by both;
  Who, even while plund’ring, forge Religion’s name
  To frank their spoil, and, without fear or shame,
  Call down the HOLY TRINITY to bless
  Partition leagues, and deeds of devilishness!


Even his old enemy, George Cruikshank, whose peculiarly impetuous
temper had found a free vent in caricaturing Napoleon, left off doing
so when he was in safe keeping, and only designed (in a publication
called the ‘Omnibus’) a ‘Monument to Napoleon’ when he died. In a
note to this design he says, ‘As for me, who have skeletonised him
prematurely, paring down the prodigy even to his hat and boots, I
have but “carried out” a principle adopted almost in my boyhood, for
I can scarcely remember the time when I did not take some patriotic
pleasure in persecuting the great enemy of England. Had he been less
than that, I should have felt compunction for my cruelties; having
tracked him through snow and through fire, by flood and by field,
insulting, degrading, and deriding him everywhere, and putting him
to several humiliating deaths. All that time, however, he went on
“overing” the Pyramids and the Alps, as boys “over” posts, and playing
at leapfrog with the sovereigns of Europe, so as to kick a crown off
at every spring he made--together with many crowns, and sovereigns,
into my coffers. Deep, most deep, in a personal view of matters, are my
obligations to the agitator--but what a debt the country _owes to him_!’



  Abercrombie, Sir Ralph, i. 143

  Achambau, i. 217

  Addington, i. 150, 163, 164, 165, 171, 177

  Addington, Hely, i. 177

  Alfieri, i. 1

  Allessandria, Senator, i. 2

  Allies, treaty of, ii. 229

  Amiens, Treaty of, i. 149, 151

  Anagrams, &c., on Napoleon’s name, i. 7, 8, 10, 12, 13

  Andreossi, General, i. 176

  Ansell, caricaturist, i. 74, 150, 152, 158, 164, 168, 170, 172, 176,
        187, 202, 223, 227, 282, 290; ii. 8-14, 16, 17, 19, 53, 58, 61,
        63, 66, 69, 71, 72, 74, 76, 79, 84, 97

  Apocalyptic Beast, the, connected with Napoleon, i. 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

  Arcola, battle of, i. 44

  Argus, caricaturist, ii. 37, 51, 60

  Armistead, or Armstead, Mrs. (afterwards Mrs. Fox), i. 157

  Arms of the Bonaparts, i. 2

  ‘Army of England,’ the, i. 52, 53

  ‘Army of England,’ withdrawal of, ii. 43, 44

  Artand, Chevalier, i. 2

  Atrocities of Brutus Napoleone Ali Buonaparte, i. 258

  Austrian ambassador’s drive through Paris, i. 162

  Barclay de Tolly, ii. 126

  Barras, i. 30, 31, 32, 34, 35, 38, 39, 40, 41, 43, 52, 53, 217, 218

  Bassano, battle of, i. 44

  Bathurst, Bragge, i. 177

  Beauharnais, Eugène de, i. 32, 88, 218; ii. 208

  Beauharnais, Fanny, i. 218

  Beaulieu (Austrian General), i. 43

  Bedford, Duke of, i. 54, 56, 57, 72, 152

  Beer brewed in London in 1796, i. 47

  Belliard, General, i. 143

  Bernadotte, ii. 168, 221

  Berry, Captain, presented with the freedom of the City of
        London, i. 72

  Berthier, Marshal, i. 45, 46, 96, 105, 112, 217; ii. 111,
        112, 114, 191

  Berthollet, Claude Louis, Comte, i. 112

  Birba, La, great-grandmother of Napoleon, i. 5, 6

  Birth, date of Napoleon’s, i. 13, 14

  Bisset, James, caricaturist, ii. 21

  Blackhall, Thomas, Lord Mayor of London, i. 46

  Blanquet’s, Admiral, sword sent as a present to the Corporation of the
        City of London, i. 71

  Blockade of England, ii. 62, 63, 64, 66, 75

  Blücher, Marshal, ii. 184, 187, 188, 194, 196, 197, 205, 206, 207,
        211, 219, 225, 228, 230, 243

  Bob Rousem’s Epistle to Bonypart, i. 237

  Bonapart, Hugo, i. 3

  Bonaparte, Caroline, Queen of Naples, ii. 112, 120

  Bonaparte, Celtruda, Napoleon’s godmother, i. 14

  Bonaparte and Talleyrand, i. 287

  Bonaparte, Jacopo, i. 2

  Bonaparte, Jerome, i. 217; ii. 53

  Bonaparte, Joseph, i. 124, 217; ii. 53, 80, 81, 85, 88-143,
        150, 151-195

  Bonaparte, Lætitia (Napoleon’s mother), i. 14, 15, 16, 17, 43, 218;
        ii. 142, 207

  Bonaparte, Louis, i. 2, 217; ii. 24, 53, 116

  Bonaparte, Lucien, i. 31, 124, 217

  Bonaparte, Napoleon. (_See_ Napoleon.)

  Bonaparte, Trial of, i. 267

  Bonaparte’s Soliloquy at Calais, i. 269

  Bonaparte’s Will, i. 216

  Bonduca, or Boadicea, i. 213

  Boney and Talley, i. 273

  ‘Boney and the Gay Lads of Paris,’ &c., ii. 147

  Boney’s, Master, Hearty Welcome to England, i. 207

  Bourrienne, De (Louis Antoine Fauvelet), i. 32, 88, 138; ii. 100

  Bouvet, Admiral, i. 46

  Bread, compulsory adulteration of, i. 141;
    price of, in 1796, 47;
    in 1797, 53;
    in 1798, 81;
    in 1799, 125;
    in 1801, 142;
    receipt to adulterate, 142;
    stale by law, 142

  Brienne, military school at, i. 19, 22

  Britons, Strike Home! i. 213, 214

  Britons, to Arms! i. 224, 225

  Brobdingnag, Voyage to, i. 285

  Brunet, the actor, makes fun of the Flotilla, i. 143, 144

  Buona, Carlos, great-grandfather of Napoleon, i. 5, 6

  Buona, Joseph, grandfather of Napoleon, i. 6

  Burdett, Sir Francis, i. 72, 152; ii. 116

  Burghersh, Lord, ii. 215

  Cadoudal, Georges, ii. 7, 9

  Cairo, revolt at, i. 77, 78; capitulation of, 143

  Cambacérès, i. 125; ii. 12

  Cann, designer of ‘Violettes du 20 Mars 1815,’ ii. 209

  Canova, i. 1

  _Carabas, Marquis of_, i. 24

  Caricatures, titles of, vol. i.--
    ‘The French Bugabo,’ 50, 51;
    ‘The Storm Rising, or the Republican Flotilla in Danger,’ 54;
    ‘The Consequences of a Successful French Invasion,’ 55;
    ‘We explain de Rights of Man to de Noblesse,’ 55;
    ‘We fly on the wings of the wind to save the Irish Catholics from
        persecution,’ 55;
    ‘Me teach de English Republicans to work,’ 55;
    ‘The Shrine of St. Anne’s Hill,’ 56;
    ‘Anticipation, Ways and Means, or Buonaparte really taken,’ 58;
    ‘Extirpation of the Plagues of Egypt;--Destruction of Revolutionary
        Crocodiles;--or, The British Hero cleansing y^e Mouth of y^e
        Nile,’ 73;
    ‘The Gallant Nellson bringing home two uncommon fierce French
        Crocodiles from the Nile as a present to the King,’ 73;
    ‘A terrible Turk preparing a Mummy for a _present_ to the Grand
        Nation,’ 74;
    ‘John Bull taking a luncheon, or British Cooks cramming old _Grumble
        Gizzard_ with Bonne Chére,’ 75;
    ‘Destruction of the French Colossus,’ 76;
    ‘High fun for John Bull, or the Republicans put to their last
        shift,’ 78;
    ‘Fighting for the Dunghill--or--Jack Tar settling Buonaparte,’ 79;
    ‘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,’ 80;
    ‘The Ghost of Buonaparte appearing to the Directory,’ 82;
    ‘Siege de la Colonne de Pompée or Science in the Pillory,’ 85;
    ‘L’Insurrection de l’Institut Amphibie--The pursuit of Knowledge,’
    ‘Allied Powers, unbooting Egalité,’ 111;
    ‘Bonaparte leaving Egypt,’ 116;
    ‘Exit Liberté a la Francais! or Bonaparte closing the Farce of
        Egalité at Saint Cloud, near Paris, November 10th, 1799,’ 122;
    ‘Satan’s return from Earth. Discovered in Council with Belzebub and
        Belial--a Sketch after Fuseli!!!’ 123;
    ‘The French Triumvirate settling the New Constitution,’ 125;
    ‘The Apples and the Horse dung, or Buonaparte among the Golden
        Pippins,’ 128;
    ‘Democracy, or a Sketch of the life of Buonaparte,’ 18,
        23, 62, 129;
    ‘Negotiation See Saw,’ 144;
    ‘John Bull’s Prayers to Peace, or the Flight of Discord,’ 145;
    ‘The Child and Champion of Jacobinism new Christened (vide Pitt’s
        Speech),’ 150;
    ‘Political dreamings--Visions of Peace--Perspective horrors!’ 150;
    ‘The Balance of Power,’ 150;
    ‘A Game at Chess between Bonaparte and Lord Cornwallis,’ 152;
    ‘Cross-examination,’ 152;
    ‘The National Institute’s first Interview with their President,’
    ‘A Peaceable Pipe, or a Consular Visit to John Bull,’ 153;
    ‘A Trip to Paris, or John Bull and his Spouse, invited to the Honors
        of the Sitting!!’ 153;
    ‘The Consular Warehouse, or a Great Man nail’d to the Counter,’ 154;
    ‘The Corsican Conjurer raising the plagues of Europe,’ 154;
    ‘Parcelling out John Bull,’ 155;
    ‘Introduction of Citizen Volpone, and his Suite at Paris,’ 156;
    ‘English Patriots bowing at the Shrine of Despotism,’ 158;
    ‘Taking leave,’ 159;
    ‘Lord Whitworth’s Coachman at Paris,’ 160;
    ‘A peep at the Lion,’ 160;
    ‘The first kiss these ten Years! or the meeting of Britannia and
        Citizen François,’ 161;
    ‘German Nonchalance, or the vexation of little Boney. Vide the
        Diplomatique’s late Journey through Paris,’ 162;
    ‘Leap frog,’ 163;
    ‘The Evacuation of Malta,’ 163;
    ‘Rival Gardeners,’ 164;
    ‘Physical Aid, or, Britannia recover’d from a Trance, also the
        Patriotic Courage of Merry Andrew, and a peep thro’ the
        Fog,’ 165;
    ‘The Political Cocks,’ 168;
    ‘An Attempt to swallow the World,’ 168;
    ‘John Bull teased by an Earwig,’ 169;
    ‘Easier to say than to do,’ 169;
    ‘An Attempt to undermine John Bull, or working through the
        Globe,’ 169;
    ‘A Stoppage to a Stride over the Globe,’ 170;
    ‘The Governor of Europe, Stoped in his career, or Little B----n too
        much for great B----te,’ 170;
    ‘John Bull listening to the quarrels of State affairs,’ 170;
    ‘Doctor Sangrado curing John Bull of Repletion, with the Kind
        offices of young Clyster pipe and little Boney. A hint from
        Gil Blas,’ 171;
    ‘Britannia repremanding a Naughty Boy!’ 171;
    ‘Lunar Speculations,’ 172;
    ‘Ultimatum, or the Ambassador taking proper steps,’ 175;
    ‘The Bone of Contention,’ 176;
    ‘The Bone of Contention, or the English Bulldog and the Corsican
        Monkey,’ 176;
    ‘Armed Heroes,’ 177;
    ‘A Little Man Alarmed at his own Shadow,’ 178;
    ‘Maniac Ravings, or Little Boney in a strong Fit. Vide Lord W----s
        account of a visit to the Thuilleries,’ 178;
    ‘A great Man Intoxicated with Success,’ 179;
    ‘French Invasion--or Buonaparte Landing in Great Britain,’ 183;
    ‘The Scarecrow’s arrival, or Honest PAT giving them an Irish
        Welcome,’ 183;
    ‘Britannia correcting an Unruly Boy,’ 186;
    ‘The Corsican Beggar Riding to the Devil,’ 187;
    ‘Playing at Bubbles,’ 189;
    ‘King of Brobdingnag and Gulliver,’ 189;
    ‘Bruin become mediator,’ 192;
    ‘Olympic Games, or John Bull introducing his new Ambassador to the
        Grand Consul,’ 192;
    ‘The Final Pacification of Europe,’ 198;
    ‘Green Spectacles, or Consular Goggles,’ 198;
    ‘Boney in possession of the Millstone,’ 202;
    ‘Flags of Truth and Lies,’ 202;
    ‘Death of the Corsican Fox.--Scene, the last of the Royal
        Hunt,’ 204;
    ‘A British Chymist Analising a Corsican Earthworm!!’ 210;
    ‘Little Ships, or John Bull very inquisitive,’ 210;
    ‘Amusements after Dinner, or the Corsican Fairy displaying his
        Prowess,’ 215;
    ‘A Monstrous Stride,’ 216;
    ‘Invasion,’ 221;
    ‘Buonaparte forty-eight Hours after Landing!’ 222;
    ‘After the Invasion. The Levée en Masse, or Britons Strike
        Home,’ 223;
    ‘Preparing to invade,’ 226;
    ‘How to stop an invader,’ 226;
    ‘The Consequences of an Invasion, or the Hero’s Reward. None but
        the Brave deserve the fair. The Yeomanry Cavalry’s first
        Essay,’ 227;
    ‘Johnny Bull giving Boney a Pull,’ 229;
    ‘Resolutions in case of an Invasion,’ 230;
    ‘A rash attempt, and woful downfall,’ 230;
    ‘Observations upon Stilts,’ 230;
    ‘Harlequin Invasion,’ 232;
    ‘John Bull and Buonaparte,’ 238;
    ‘Boney at Brussels,’ 239;
    ‘John Bull out of all Patience,’ 240;
    ‘Crocodile’s Tears or Bonaparte’s Lamentations,’240;
    ‘Britannia blowing up the Corsican Bottle Conjuror,’ 244;
    ‘The Corsican Moth,’ 245;
    ‘The Handwriting on the Wall,’ 246;
    ‘A Knockdown blow in the Ocean, or Bonaparte taking French
        leave,’ 246;
    ‘Pidcock’s Grand Menagerie,’ 252;
    ‘John Bull landed in France,’ 253;
    ‘Three plagues of Egypt,’ 253;
    ‘An Attempt on the Potatoe bag,’ 257;
    ‘Gulliver and his Guide, or a Check String to the Corsican,’ 258;
    ‘John Bull and the Alarmist,’ 261;
    ‘John Bull shewing the Corsican Monkey,’ 264;
    ‘Buonaparte on his Ass,’ 264;
    ‘The Corsican Macheath,’ 265;
    ‘A full and particular account of the Trial of Napoleon Buonaparte
        before John Bull,’ 267;
    ‘Buonaparte’s Soliloquy at Calais,’ 269;
    ‘The fable of the Bundle of Faggots exemplified, or Bonaparte
        baffled,’ 271;
    ‘A peep at the Corsican fairy,’ 271;
    ‘The Corsican Carcase Butcher’s Reckoning day, New Style, no
        Quarter day,’ 271;
    ‘The Corsican Locust,’ 279;
    ‘The Grand Triumphal Entry of the Chief Consul into London,’ 279;
    ‘The Corsican Pest, or Belzebub going to Supper,’ 280;
    ‘The Balance of Power, or the Issue of the Contest,’ 281;
    ‘Thoughts on Invasion both sides the water,’ 282;
    ‘The little Princess and Gulliver,’ 282;
    ‘The Centinel at his Post, or Boney’s peep into Walmer Castle!!’
    ‘French Volunteers marching to the Conquest of Great Britain,’ 283;
    ‘John Bull guarding the Toy Shop,’ 283;
    ‘The King’s Dwarf plays Gulliver a Trick,’ 286;
    ‘Boney in time for Lord Mayor’s Feast,’ 289;
    ‘Destruction of the French Gun Boats, or Little Boney and his friend
        Talley in high Glee,’ 290;
    ‘Boney’s Journey to London,’ &c., 290.

  Caricatures (_continued_), vol. ii.--
    ‘Boney attacking the English Hives, or the Corsican caught at last
        in the Island,’ 1;
    ‘Selling the Skin before the Bear is caught, or cutting up the Bull
        before he is killed,’ 2;
    ‘New Bellman’s verses for Christmas 1803!’ 2;
    ‘More than expected, or too many for Boney,’ 2;
    ‘The Brobdingnag Watchman preventing Gulliver’s Landing,’ 3;
    ‘A Cock and Bull Story,’ 3;
    ‘The Cold-Blooded Murderer, or the Assassination of the Duc d’
        Enghien,’ 8;
    ‘The Coffin Expedition, or Boney’s Invincible Armada half
        seas over,’ 14;
    ‘Dutch Embarkation, or Needs must when the Devil drives!’ 14;
    ‘Gulliver manœuvring with his little boat in the cistern,’ 15;
    ‘A French Alarmist, or John Bull looking out for the Grand
        Flotilla,’ 15;
    ‘A great Man on his Hobby Horse, a design for an Intended Statue on
        the Place la Liberté at Paris,’ 16;
    ‘A new French Phantasmagoria,’ 16;
    ‘The Frog and the Ox, or the Emperor of the _Gulls_ in his
        stolen gear,’ 16;
    ‘Injecting Blood Royal, or Phlebotomy at St. Cloud,’ 17;
    ‘The Right Owner,’ 17;
    ‘A Proposal from the New Emperor,’ 17;
    ‘The Imperial Coronation,’ 17;
    ‘Harlequin’s last Skip,’ 18;
    ‘British Men of War towing in the Invader’s Fleet,’ 18;
    ‘Boney’s Inquisition, another specimen of his Humanity on the person
        of Madame Toussaint,’ 19;
    ‘The Genius of France nursing her darling,’ 20;
    ‘The death of Madame Republique,’ 21;
    ‘The Loyalist’s Alphabet,’ 21;
    ‘Design for an Imperial Crown to be used at the Coronation of the
        New Emperor,’ 23;
    ‘The Grand Coronation Procession of Napolione the 1st, Emperor of
        France, from the Church of Notre Dame, Dec. 2, 1804,’ &c., 24;
    ‘A New Phantasmagoria for John Bull,’ 37;
    ‘The glorious Pursuit of Ten against Seventeen,’ 37;
    ‘The Plumb Pudding in danger,’ &c., 39;
    ‘St. George and the Dragon,’ 42;
    ‘Napoleon’s Apotheosis anticipated,’ 42;
    ‘The departure from the Coast, or the End of the Farce of
        Invasion,’ 44;
    ‘The Surrender of Ulm, or Buonaparte and General Mack coming to a
        right understanding,’ 45;
    ‘Boney beating Mack, and Nelson giving him a Whack!!’ 46;
    ‘Nap Buonaparte in a fever on receiving the Extraordinary Gazette of
        Nelson’s Victory over the combined Fleets,’ 47;
    ‘John Bull exchanging News with the Continent,’ 48;
    ‘Tiddy doll, the great French Gingerbread Baker drawing out a new
        Batch of Kings,’ &c., 48;
    ‘Boney and the Great State Secretary,’ 51;
    ‘Pacific Overtures, or a Flight from St. Cloud,’ 52;
    ‘Roast Beef and French Soup--The English Lamb * * * and the French
        Tiger,’ 53;
    ‘Two Wonders of the World, or a Specimen of a new troop of
        Leicestershire Light Horse,’ 53;
    ‘Bone and Flesh, or John Bull in Moderate Condition,’ 54;
    ‘Comforts of a Bed of Roses,’ &c., 54;
    ‘John Bull threatened by Insects from all Quarters,’ 55;
    ‘Jupiter Buoney granting unto the Dutch Frogs a King,’ 55;
    ‘Experiments at Dover, or Master Charley’s Magic Lanthorn,’ 57;
    ‘The Pleasing and Instructive Game of Messengers,’ &c., 58;
    ‘News from Calabria,’ &c., 58;
    ‘The Continental Shaving Shop,’ &c., 60;
    ‘Political Quadrille,’ 61;
    ‘Jack Tars conversing with Boney on the Blockade of Old
        England,’ 63;
    ‘Bonaparte blockading John Bull,’ 64;
    ‘John Bull playing on the Base Villain,’ 65;
    ‘The Entrance into Poland, or another Bonne Bouche for Boney,’ 65;
    ‘The Giant Commerce overwhelming the Pigmy Blockade,’ 66;
    ‘Boney and his Army in Winter Quarters,’ 66;
    ‘The Political Cock-horse,’ 67;
    ‘The New Dynasty, or the little Corsican Gardener Planting a Royal
        Pippin Tree,’ 68;
    ‘An Imperial Bonne Bouche, or the dinner at Tilsit,’ 71;
    ‘Mutual Honors at Tilsit, or the Monkey, the Bear, and the
        Eagle,’ 71;
    ‘The Polish Pie, or the Effects of the Peace at Tilsit,’ 72;
    ‘Gulliver towing the Fleet into Lilliput,’ 73;
    ‘Malignant Aspects looking with envy on John Bull and his
        Satellites,’ &c., 74;
    ‘In Port, and Out of Port, or news from Portugal,’ 75;
    ‘Blockade against Blockade, or John Bull a match for Boney,’ 76;
    ‘The Continental Dockyard,’ 76;
    ‘The Bear, the Monkey, the Turkey, and the Bull, or the true cause
        of the Russian War,’ 76;
    ‘John Bull refreshing the Bear’s Memory,’ 77;
    ‘Boney stark mad, or more Ships, Colonies, and Commerce,’ 77;
    ‘Delicious Dreams!’ &c., 78;
    ‘The Corsican Tiger at Bay,’ 78;
    ‘Boney Bothered, or an unexpected meeting,’ 79;
    ‘The Spanish Bull fight, or the Corsican Matador in danger,’ 80;
    ‘The Corsican Spider in his Web,’ 81;
    ‘Burglary and Robbery,’ 82;
    ‘Apotheosis of the Corsican Phœnix,’ 83;
    ‘The Oven on Fire, or Boney’s last Batch entirely spoiled!!!’ 83;
    ‘A game at quadrille,’ 84;
    ‘The Fox and the Grapes,’ 85;
    ‘Prophecy explained,’ 85;
    ‘Napoleon the little in a Rage with his great French Eagle!!’ 85;
    ‘A hard passage, or Boney playing Base on the Continent,’ 86;
    ‘The Valley of the Shadow of Death,’ 87;
    ‘Nap and his partner Joe,’ 88;
    ‘Nap and his friends in their glory,’ 88;
    ‘Apollyon, the Devil’s Generalissimo,’ 90;
    ‘General Nap turned Methodist Preacher,’ 91;
    ‘Political Quacks, or the Erfurt Co-partnership commencing
        Business,’ 92;
    ‘The Progress of the Emperor Napoleon,’ 94;
    ‘Boney’s broken bridge,’ 96;
    ‘The Broken Bridge, or Boney outwitted by General Danube,’ 97;
    ‘The rising Sun, or a view of the Continent,’ 98;
    ‘Three Weeks after Marriage, or the Great Little Emperor playing at
        Bo-peep,’ 115;
    ‘Boney the Second, or the little Baboon created to devour French
        Monkies,’ 118;
    ‘Nursing the Spawn of a Tyrant, or Frenchmen sick of the
        brood,’ 121;
    ‘The Deputeys apointed by the Legislative Body, doing Homage to the
        King of Rome in the Nursery at St. Cloud,’ 121;
    ‘The first glorious exploit of the Invincible Flotilla,’ &c., 124;
    ‘The Parting of Hector--Nap--and Andromache, or Russia threatened,’
    ‘British Welcome, or a Visit from the Bantam to the Lion,’ 127;
    ‘Jack Frost attacking Boney in Russia,’ 132;
    ‘General Frost shaveing Little Boney,’ 132;
    ‘Polish Diet with French Desert,’ 132;
    ‘Boney hatching a Bulletin, or Snug Winter Quarters,’ 134;
    ‘The Valley of the Shadow of Death,’ 134;
    ‘Nap nearly nab’d,’ &c., 136;
    ‘The Narrow Escape, or Boney’s Grand Leap _à la Grimaldi_!!’ 137;
    ‘The Arms and supporters of Napoleon Bonaparte,’ &c., 138;
    ‘Nap’s glorious return, or the conclusion of the Russian
        Campaign,’ 142;
    ‘Boney returning from Russia covered with Glory,’ &c., 142;
    ‘The Hero’s return,’ 143;
    ‘Bonaparte reviewing his Conscripts,’ 144;
    ‘Bonaparte addressing the Legislative Body,’ 145;
    ‘The Wags of Paris, or the Downfall of Nap the Great,’ 145;
    ‘Anticipation for Boney,’ &c., 146;
    ‘Nap reviewing the Grand Army, or the Conquest of Russia
        anticipated,’ 147;
    ‘Boney receiving an account of the Battle of Vittoria,’ &c., 151;
    ‘A Scene after the Battle of Vittoria,’ &c., 152;
    ‘John Bull teazed by an Earwig,’ 152;
    ‘Tom Thumb and the Giant,’ 153;
    ‘Execution of two celebrated Enemies of Old England, and their Dying
        Speeches,’ 155;
    ‘The Two Kings of Terror,’ 156;
    ‘Cossack Sports, or the Platoff Hunt in full cry after French
        Game,’ 157;
    ‘Caterers--Boney dished--a Bonne Bouche for Europe,’ 157;
    ‘The Daw Stript of his Borrow’d Plumes,’ &c., 158;
    ‘A Long Pull, a Strong Pull, and a Pull all together,’ 158;
    ‘The Corsican Toad under a Harrow,’ 159;
    ‘Dutch Nightmare, or the Fraternal Hug, returned with a Dutch
        Squeeze,’ 160;
    ‘Head Runner of Runners from Leipsig Fair,’ 160;
    ‘Bonaparte’s Bridge,’ 162;
    ‘Grasp all, Lose all,’ &c., 164;
    ‘Napoleon the first and last,’ 164;
    ‘The Corsican Munchausen humming the Lads of Paris,’ 166;
    ‘Funcking the Corsican,’ 167;
    ‘The Mock Phœnix!!! or a vain attempt to rise again,’ 167;
    ‘Friends or Foes,’ &c., 167;
    ‘Political Chemists and German Retorts,’ &c., 167;
    ‘Gasconading,’ &c., 168;
    ‘Bleeding and warm water,’ 169;
    ‘The Head of the Great Nation in a Queer Situation,’ 170;
    ‘Mock Auction, or Boney selling Stolen Goods,’ 171;
    ‘The Double Humbug,’ &c., 181;
    ‘The Devil’s Darling,’ 182;
    ‘John Bull bringing Boney’s nose to the Grindstone,’ 183;
    ‘The Allied Bakers, or the Corsican Toad in the hole,’ 183;
    ‘Boney forsaken by his Guardian Angel,’ 184;
    ‘Blucher the Brave extracting the groan of abdication from the
        Corsican Bloodhound,’ 187;
    ‘The Corsican Shuttlecock,’ &c., 187;
    ‘Europe,’ 188;
    ‘Bloody Boney the Carcass Butcher,’ &c., 194;
    ‘Coming in at the death of the Corsican fox,’ 194;
    ‘A Grand Manœuvre! or the Rogue’s march to the Island of
        Elba,’ 194;
    ‘The Rogue’s March,’ 195;
    ‘The Sorrows of Boney, or Meditations in the Island of Elba!!!’ 196;
    ‘The Affectionate farewell, or Kick for Kick,’ 196;
    ‘The last March of the Conscripts, or Satan and his Satellites
        hurled to the land of oblivion,’ 196;
    ‘A delicate finish to a French Usurper,’ 197;
    ‘Boney at Elba, or a Madman’s Amusement,’ 197;
    ‘Cruce dignus,’ 198;
    ‘Broken Gingerbread,’ 200;
    ‘The Hellbaronian Emperor going to take possession of his new
        Territory,’ 201;
    ‘Nap dreading his doleful Doom, or his grand entry into the Isle of
        Elba,’ 201;
    ‘Snuffing out Boney,’ 202;
    ‘Thou’rt doom’d to Pain,’ &c., 202;
    ‘_Otium cum dignitate_, or a view of Elba,’ 203;
    ‘Boney’s Elbow Chair,’ &c., 203;
    ‘What I was, What I am, What I ought to be,’ 204;
    ‘Needs must when Wellington Drives, or Louis’s Return!!’ 205;
    ‘The Tyrant, overtaken by Justice, is excluded from the
        world,’ 205;
    ‘The departure of Apollo and the Muses, or Farewell to Paris,’ 205;
    ‘An Imperial Vomit,’ 207;
    ‘Drumming out of the French Army!!!’ 207;
    ‘Boney and his new subjects at Elba,’ 207;
    ‘The Peddigree of Corporal Violet,’ 209-10;
    ‘John Bull mad with Joy! or the First of August, 1814,’ 211;
    ‘Twelfth Night, or what you will!’ &c., 214;
    ‘The Devil to pay, or Boney’s return from Elba,’ 216;
    ‘The European Pantomime,’ &c., 216;
    ‘Hell broke loose, or the John Bulls made Jack Asses,’ 217;
    ‘Boney’s Return from Elba, or the Devil among the Tailors,’ 218;
    ‘A Review of the New Grand Army,’ 219;
    ‘The Genius of France expounding her Laws to the Sublime
        People,’ 220;
    ‘The Congress dissolved before the _Cake_ was cut,’ 220;
    ‘The flight of Bonaparte from Hell Bay,’ 221;
    ‘Hell Hounds rallying round the Idol of France,’ 222;
    ‘Vive le Roi! Vive l’Empereur!’ &c., 222;
    ‘Scene in a New Pantomime,’ &c., 222;
    ‘The Corsican and his Bloodhounds at the Window of the Thuilleries,
        looking over Paris,’ 223;
    ‘The Corsican’s last trip under the guidance of his Good
        Angel,’ 223;
    ‘The Phenix of Elba resuscitated by Treason,’ 223;
    ‘The Royal Allied Oak and self-created mushroom Kings,’ 225;
    ‘The Crown Candidates, or a modest request politely refused,’ 226;
    ‘Preparing for War,’ 227;
    ‘A Lecture on Heads, as Delivered by Marshalls Wellington and
        Blucher,’ 230;
    ‘Monkey’s Allowance,’ &c., 230;
    ‘R. Ackermann’s Transparency on the Victory of Waterloo,’ 231;
    ‘Compliments and Congées, or Little Boney’s surrender to the Tars of
        Old England!!!’ 235;
    ‘The Bone-a-part in a fresh place,’ 236;
    ‘Buonaparte on the 17th of June--Buonaparte on the 17th of July,
        1815,’ 236;
    ‘Boney’s threatened Invasion brought to bear,’ &c., 237;
    ‘Boney’s Trial, Sentence and Dying Speech, or Europe’s injuries
        revenged,’ 243;
    ‘The Ex-Emperor in a bottle,’ 252;
    ‘The downfall of Tyranny and return of Peace,’ 253;
    ‘The Exile of St. Helena, or Boney’s Meditation,’ 253;
    ‘Boney’s Meditations on the Island of St. Helena,’ 254;
    ‘Napoleon’s trip from Elba to Paris, and from Paris to St.
        Helena,’ 255;
    ‘General Sans Pareil,’ 256;
    ‘Boxiana, or the Fancy,’ 257;
    ‘Boney crossing the Line,’ 259;
    ‘Fast Colours--Patience on a Monument smiling at grief, or the Royal
        Laundress washing Boney’s Court Dresses,’ 260;
    ‘Mat de Cocagne,’ 260;
    ‘Royal Christmas Boxes,’ 260;
    Last Contemporary Memorial of Napoleon, 265;
    George Cruikshank’s apology for caricaturing Napoleon, 267

  Cartaux, General, i. 27

  Castiglione, battle of, i. 44

  Castlereagh, Lord, ii. 54, 215

  Cawse, the caricaturist, i. 123, 154

  Chaptal, i. 217

  Charles, caricaturist, i. 258, 282; ii. 236

  ‘Clyster pipe, young,’ i. 171

  Cobbett’s windows smashed, i. 149

  Combe, the brewer, i. 158

  Concordat with the Pope, i. 143

  Conscription in England, i. 193

  Consols, price of, in 1796, i. 47;
    in 1797, 53;
    in 1798, 81;
    in 1799, 125;
    at the time of the Peace, 146

  Consuls, the first, i. 122;
    the second, 125

  Copenhagen, bombardment of, ii. 73

  Cornwallis, Lord, i. 151, 152

  Coronation of Napoleon, first news reaches England, ii. 33

  Corporation of the City of London present Nelson with a sword, i. 72

  ‘Corsican Pest, the,’ i. 280

  Corunna, retreat from, ii. 96

  Cosmopoli, the name for Porto Ferrajo, ii. 208

  Council of Five Hundred, dissolution of, i. 118-22

  ‘Cruce dignus,’ ii. 199

  Cruikshank, George, caricaturist, i. 41, 48, 49, 64, 78; ii. 133, 137,
        143-46, 151-52, 169-70, 184, 187, 195, 200-3, 209, 214,
        217-18, 220, 223, 227, 235-37, 253, 255, 260, 267

  Cruikshank, Isaac, caricaturist, father of George, i. 55, 58, 82, 169,
        175, 183, 192, 216, 226, 229, 239, 244, 266, 283; ii. 2, 17, 18,
        46, 73, 76, 77, 83, 90

  D’Aiguillon, Duchesse, i. 35

  Dalrymple, Sir John, i. 46, 55

  D’Angely, Comte, ii. 100

  Danish fleet, capture of, ii. 73

  Degan, battle of, i. 44

  D’Enghien, Duc, ii. 7, 8

  Desaix, General, i. 67, 130-132

  Desgenettes, Dr., i. 103, 107

  Devil, the, and the Consul, i. 203

  Ducos, i. 122-24

  Dugommier, General, i. 29

  Dupont, General, ii. 83, 87

  Dupuy, General, i. 66

  Ecole Militaire at Paris, i. 22

  Egypt, expedition to, i. 59

  Egypt, Napoleon’s flight from, i. 110-116

  El-Arisch, capitulation of, i. 85

  Eldon, Lord, i. 161

  Elmes, William, caricaturist, ii. 183

  Emerson, Sir J., i. 3

  English mastiffs, i. 194

  English visit France, i. 161

  Epigram on Bonaparte, i. 83

  Epitaph on Napoleon, i. 228

  Erfurt, meeting of sovereigns at, ii. 93

  Erskine, Lord, i. 72, 74, 75, 158

  Farmers supplying horses and carts, i. 58

  Fast, proclamation of a general, i. 141

  Father of Napoleon, i. 6

  Fesch, Cardinal, i. 218; ii. 25, 114

  Field, J., caricaturist, ii. 226

  Flotilla, the French, i. 54, 143, 144, 263; ii. 14, 15, 123

  Fox, Charles James, i. 54, 56, 73, 74, 76, 152, 155-159, 166, 171;
        ii. 50, 51, 54, 57, 58, 61

  French army, distressed state of, i. 43, 44

  French fleet, number of, i. 263

  Furio, Don Antonio, i. 2

  Fuseli, i. 123

  George the Third and family, measures for the safety of, i. 195

  Gillray, James, caricaturist, i. 40, 54-56, 63, 72, 73, 75, 76, 79,
        80, 83, 85, 86, 109, 111, 116, 122, 125, 126, 129, 150, 156,
        161-163, 165, 171, 177, 183, 189, 204, 222, 261, 271, 280, 283,
        290; ii. 15, 24, 39, 42, 45, 48, 52, 54, 58, 68, 78, 80, 83, 87

  Gourgaud, General, ii. 234, 241, 242

  Grafton, Duke of, i. 56, 57

  Greek extraction of Napoleon, i. 3

  ‘Green Room Opinion (The) of the threatened Invasion,’ ii. 4

  Hanover claims exemption from, the War, i. 179;
    A Peep into, i. 180

  Harlequin Invasion, i. 232

  Harrel, the police spy, i. 137, 138

  Hawkesbury, Lord, i. 144-146, 150, 166, 171, 177

  Histria, grandmother of Napoleon, i. 6

  Hoche, General, i. 35, 46, 47

  Hood, Admiral, i. 27

  ‘Incroyables,’ i. 109

  Institute, the, i. 86

  International courtesies, i. 153

  Invasion of England by the French, and landing on the coast of
        Pembrokeshire--defeat, i. 51

  Invasion sketch, an, i. 247

  Invasion, the, i. 254

  Ireland, invasion of, by the French, i. 46, 47

  Iron crown of Lombardy, ii. 41

  Jaffa, massacre of troops at, i. 88;
    De Bourrienne’s account, i. 88-92;
    O’Meara’s account, i. 92-94;
    English accounts, i. 95-97

  Jekyll, Mr., i. 72

  Jiubéga Laurent, Napoleon’s godfather, i. 14

  John Bull and Bonaparte, i. 238

  Jordanus of Namur, i. 11

  Josephine (Marie Josephine Rose de la Pagerie), Napoleon’s first
        meeting with her, i. 32;
    her birth, i. 32, 33;
    parentage, i. 33;
    marriage to the Vicomte de Beauharnais, i. 33;
    return to Martinique, i. 33;
    decapitation of her husband, i. 33;
    her imprisonment, i. 33;
    amusements in prison, i. 33;
    said to be Barras’ mistress, i. 34;
    her intimacy with General Hoche, i. 35;
    ditto with Madame Tallien and Barras, i. 35;
    her dress described, i. 36;
    her walk with Junot and Madame Tallien, i. 37;
    her good looks, i. 37;
    ‘Nôtre Dame des Victoires,’ i. 38;
    English satirists’ account of her, i. 38-40;
    her bad teeth, i. 37, 41;
    her marriage with Napoleon, i. 41;
    short honeymoon, i. 41;
    her spendthrift habits, i. 42;
    her personal appearance, i. 246;
    made Empress, ii. 13;
    her coronation, ii. 29;
    her figure and elegance, ii. 29;
    visits Italy, ii. 40;
    divorce from Napoleon, ii. 100-109;
    allowance made to her at Napoleon’s abdication, ii. 191;
    her death, ii. 211

  Jourdan, Marshal, ii. 150-52

  Jubilee, national, ii. 211-12

  Junot, Madame (Duchesse d’Abrantes), i. 4, 5;
    her recollections of Napoleon’s youth, i. 17, 18, 22;
    anecdote of Napoleon and her sister--_Puss in boots_, i. 23, 24;
    description of Napoleon in 1793, i. 26

  Junot, Marshal, i. 29, 37; ii. 75, 87

  Kallergis, General, i. 4

  Καλόμερις, i. 3-5

  Kleber, General, i. 85, 96, 98, 103

  Klenau (aide to General Würmser), i. 49, 50

  Knight, caricaturist, ii. 54, 55

  La Force, prison of, i. 33

  Lambert, Daniel, ii. 53-54

  Lannes, Marshal, i. 66, 112, 134; ii. 97

  Lansdowne, Earl of, i. 56, 72

  Lauderdale, Earl of, i. 56

  Lauriston, Count, i. 146; ii. 124

  Lebrun, i. 125

  Leipsic--blowing up the bridge, ii. 161

  Letter from Napoleon to George the Third, i. 126

  Letter from Napoleon to George the Third, ii. 35;
    reply to, ii. 36

  L’homme rouge, ii. 172-8

  Lloyds’, subscription opened at, i. 70

  Lodi, battle of, i. 44

  Lonado, battle of, i. 44

  London, city of, protests of, ii. 110

  Lowe, Sir Hudson, ii. 261

  Mack, General, ii. 45, 46

  Madrid, entry into, by Joseph Bonaparte, ii. 81

  Maina, the ancient Sparta, i. 3

  Maitland, captain of the ‘Bellerophon,’ ii. 223, 234-36, 239-41

  Majorca, the home of the Bonapartes, i. 2

  Malmesbury, Lord, i. 52

  Mamelukes, i. 64

  Man in the Iron Mask, i. 7

  Mantua, siege of, i. 49;
    surrender of, 50

  Marbœuf, Count, i. 15, 16, 19

  Marengo, battle of, i. 130

  Maria Louisa, ii. 111-16, 121, 124-25, 142, 171, 184, 216

  Marks, I. Lewis, caricaturist, ii. 205, 216, 253, 259

  Marmont, Marshal, i. 37; ii. 184

  Mayer, L., i. 12

  Menou, General, i. 32, 143

  Militia, enrolment of, i. 193

  Millesino, battle of, i. 44

  Mondovi, battle of, i. 44

  Monge, Gaspard, Comte de Péluse, i. 112

  Montenotte, battle of, i. 43

  Montesquiou, Madame de, ii. 121

  Moore, Sir John, ii. 96

  Mortier, General, i. 180

  Moses, the new, or Bonaparte’s Ten Commandments, i. 205

  Mourad Bey, i. 66

  Mulgrave, Lord, ii. 36

  Murat, Joachim, i. 66, 112; ii. 53, 80, 113, 126, 131

  Napoleon, vol. i.--
    his ancestry, 1;
    his own account, 1;
    his brother’s account, 2;
    pedigree by Don Antonio Furio, 2;
    his Greek extraction, 3;
    excites the Greeks to revolt, 3;
    his family name--Καλόμερις, 3-5;
    biographies by English satirists, 5, 6;
    descent from the ‘Man in the Iron Mask,’ 7;
    anagrams, &c., on his name, 7, 8, 10, 12, 13;
    Nicholas as his baptismal name, 8;
    legend of Saint Napolione, 8;
    the Apocalyptic beast, and its connection with Napoleon, 9-13;
    disputed and real dates of his birth, 13, 14;
    his real godparents, 14;
    Count Marbœuf, his putative father, 15-17;
    poverty of the family, 17;
    personal appearance as a boy, 18;
    his own description of himself, 18;
    goes to the military school at Brienne, 19;
    behaviour at school, 19-21;
    leaves Brienne and goes to the Ecole Militaire at Paris, 22;
    appointed second lieutenant of artillery, 22;
    anecdote of Madame Junot’s sister and Napoleon--_Puss in
        Boots_, 22-24;
    his poverty when sub-lieutenant, 24;
    journey to Corsica, 24;
    application to the British Government for service, 24;
    his supposed visit to London, 25;
    his personal appearance in 1793, 26;
    promoted to be commandant of artillery, 27;
    supersedes General Cartaux, 27;
    taking of Toulon and conduct of the French, 27, 28;
    again promoted, 29;
    goes on a diplomatic errand to Genoa, 29;
    his poverty at that time, 29, 30;
    revolt of the Sections, 30-32;
    made General of the Interior and Governor of Paris, 32;
    his marriage with Josephine, 40, 41;
    short honeymoon, 41;
    made commander-in-chief of the army of Italy, 43;
    visits his mother, 43;
    battle of Montenotte, 43;
    bad state of the French army, 43;
    victories of the Italian campaign, 44, 45;
    Bonaparte and Berthier, 45;
    story of a game at cards with him, 45, 46;
    Napoleon’s exactions in Italy, and spoliation of works of
        art, 48, 49;
    siege of Mantua, 49;
    interview with General Würmser’s aide-de-camp, 49, 50;
    surrender of Mantua, 50;
    ‘The French Bugabo,’ probably the earliest English caricature, 50;
    is promoted to the command of ‘the Army of England,’ 52;
    abandons the invasion of England, 56;
    expedition to Egypt, 59;
    starting of the Fleet, 60;
    landing in Egypt, 60;
    Napoleon as a Mahometan, 60-63;
    atrocities on landing at Alexandria, 64;
    his hatred of England, 65;
    march across the desert, 66;
    battle of the Pyramids, 66;
    march on, and entry into, Cairo, 66, 67;
    battle of the Nile or Aboukir, 67;
    its effect upon Napoleon, 67;
    revolt at Cairo, 77;
    slaughter of the inhabitants, 77, 78;
    rumour of his assassination, 82;
    his intrigue with Madame Fourés, 83, 84;
    his schemes of conquest, 84;
    celebrates ‘Ramadan,’ 85;
    capitulation of El-Arisch, 85;
    massacre of troops at Jaffa, 88-97;
    siege of St. Jean d’Acre, 98;
    victory over Achmet Pasha at Mount Thabor, 98;
    capture of his battering train by Sir Sydney Smith, 98;
    siege of St. Jean d’Acre raised, and retreat to Jaffa, 98, 99;
    accused of poisoning his sick soldiers at Jaffa, 100-8;
    returns to Cairo, 108;
    he leaves Egypt, 110-13;
    feeling in the army, 113, 114;
    arrival in Paris, 117;
    public dinner, 117;
    dissolves the Council of Five Hundred, 118-22;
    made Consul, 122;
    takes the lead, 123;
    fresh Consuls appointed, 125;
    their salaries, 125;
    his letter to George III., 126;
    answer to same, 127;
    battle of Marengo, 130;
    death of Desaix, 130-2;
    plots against Napoleon’s life:--that of Oct. 10, 1800, 136-8;
    that of Dec. 24, 1800, 138-40;
    Napoleon’s portrait, 140;
    his Concordat with the Pope, 143;
    the Flotilla at Boulogne, 143, 144;
    negotiations for peace, 144;
    attends to home affairs, 151;
    ratifies the peace of Amiens, 151;
    made Consul for life, 155;
    receives Fox, 156-58;
    behaves rudely to Lord Whitworth, 166, 172, 173;
    ultimatum, 175;
    tour to Belgium, &c., 239

  Napoleon (_continued_), vol. ii.--
    Cadoudal’s conspiracy, 7;
    trial and execution of the Duc d’Enghien, 7, 8;
    proclaimed Emperor, 12, 13;
    his coronation, 23-34;
    sends a letter to George the Third, 35;
    visits Italy, 40;
    crowned king of Italy, 41;
    his name given to a constellation, 42;
    war with Austria, 43;
    withdrawal of ‘Army of England,’ 43;
    surrender of Ulm, 45;
    battle of Trafalgar, 47;
    negotiations for peace, 57;
    victories of Jena, &c., 62;
    proclamation to blockade England, 62;
    invasion of Poland and entry into Warsaw, 65;
    battle of Eylau, 66;
    capture of Dantzig, 69;
    meeting with the Emperor of Russia at Tilsit, 69-73;
    declaration of war by England, 80;
    English troops sent to Spain, 82;
    raising the siege of Saragossa, 84;
    defeat at Vimiera, 84;
    convention of Cintra, 84;
    meeting of Emperors and Kings at Erfurt, 93;
    the broken bridge across the Danube, and the retreat to the island
        of Lobau, 96;
    battle of Wagram, 97;
    divorce from Josephine, 100-9;
    proposes to marry the Grand Duchess Anna Paulovna, 111;
    betrothal to Maria Louisa, 111;
    his marriage, 114;
    birth of the King of Rome, 116;
    his christening, 117;
    Napoleon as a father, 119, 120;
    said to have been present at a naval engagement off Boulogne, 123;
    goes to Dresden, and meeting of Sovereigns there, 124;
    visits Dantzig, 124;
    war declared against Russia, 124;
    entry into Wilna, 126;
    battle of Smolensko, 126;
    battle of Salamanca, 126;
    battle of Borodino, 127;
    entry into Moscow, 128;
    burning of Moscow, 129-31;
    flight from thence, 131;
    nearly caught by Cossacks, 135;
    rejoicings in England, 140;
    his return to Paris, 142-44;
    preparation for war: anticipates the conscription of 1814, 144;
    an armistice, 150;
    battle of Vittoria, 150-52;
    defeat at Leipsic, 154;
    losses and new conscription, 172;
    campaign of 1814, 182;
    his deposition, 185;
    his abdication, 185;
    conspiracy to kill him, 190;
    treaty with regard to his abdication, 191;
    attempts to poison himself, 192, 193;
    sails for Elba, 194;
    his arrival there, 206;
    his beneficent rule and improvements, 207, 208;
    faith broken with him, 208;
    ‘Caporal Violette,’ 209;
    leaves Elba, 215;
    lands at Cannes, 215;
    war again declared, 229;
    campaign in Belgium, 229;
    battle of Waterloo, 229;
    retires to Paris, 231;
    he again abdicates, 231;
    a prisoner in French hands, 233;
    negotiations for surrender to England, 234;
    goes on board the ‘Bellerophon,’ 234;
    letter to the Regent, 234;
    arrival at Torbay, 239;
    is sent to Plymouth, 244;
    anxiety of the English people to see him, 244-47;
    sent to St. Helena, 248;
    his protest against it, 250;
    transferred to the ‘Northumberland,’ 251;
    sets sail for St. Helena, 251;
    crosses the line, 259;
    his death, 261

  Napoleon and the letter M, ii. 179

  Napoleon’s sisters, i. 218; ii. 24, 29, 207

  Napoleon’s supposed credulity, ii. 178, 179

  Napolione, Saint, i. 8

  Navy, prizes, &c., ii. 38, 39

  Nelson, i. 60, 67, 69-75, 78-80, 82, 144, 176; ii. 46-48

  Nelson’s receipt to make an Olla Podrida, i. 51, 52

  ‘New Bellman’s verses for Christmas, 1803!’ ii. 2

  Ney, Marshal, i. 135; ii. 123, 124

  Nicholas as Napoleon’s baptismal name, i. 8

  Nichols, Mr., i. 56

  Nieuhoff, Count, King of Corsica, i. 5

  Nile, the battle of the, false and late news, i. 66, 67;
    how the news was received in England, 69, 70, 73;
    illuminations in honour of, 71

  Norfolk, Duke of, i. 56, 72, 74

  O’Hara, General, i. 27

  Ongley, Lord, i. 58

  Orion’s Belt to be called Napoleon, ii. 42

  Otto, M., i. 144-147

  Paoli, i. 14, 16, 24

  Paraviccini (cousin of Napoleon), i. 14

  Patriotic songs, i. 57, 69, 195, 203, 207, 213, 214, 224, 225, 232,
        238, 240, 254, 273; ii. 2, 5, 148

  Peace, negotiations for, i. 52, 144-46;
    ratification of, i. 146;
    negotiations for, ii. 57

  Pelham, T., i. 47

  Peltier, Jean, i. 173, 174

  Pichegru, ii. 7, 9, 10

  Pidcock’s Grand Menagerie, i. 251

  Pierre le Clerc, ii. 178, 179

  Pitt, William, i. 54, 59, 150, 168, 252; ii. 50

  Pitzipios, Prince, i. 4

  Pius the Eighth, ii. 24, 25, 28

  Platoff, the Hetman, ii. 148, 157

  Playbills, sham, i. 200, 201

  Plébiscite as to Napoleon becoming Emperor, ii. 12

  Plots against Napoleon’s life, i. 136-139

  Poisoning sick soldiers, i. 100-108

  Portuguese royal family, flight of, ii. 78

  Poverty of Napoleon’s family, i. 17

  Press-gangs, i. 58

  Prisoners playing at mock trials, i. 33

  Punch and the Emperor Nicholas of Russia, ii. 132

  _Puss in boots_, i. 23, 24

  Raymond, the caricaturist, i. 163

  Regent, the Prince, ii. 207, 211, 224, 225, 227, 234, 253, 257

  Rhodocanakis, i. 3.

  Roberts, the caricaturist, i. 144, 145, 169, 240

  Robespierre, i. 33

  Rome, King of, ii. 116-122, 125, 142, 143, 167, 171, 184, 191, 194,
        195, 226, 243

  Rosetta, surrender of, i. 143

  Rostopchin, ii. 130

  Rouyer, the apothecary who is said to have poisoned the sick soldiers
        at Jaffa, i. 103

  Roveredo, battle of, i. 44

  Rowlandson, the caricaturist, i. 78, 170; ii. 16, 44, 47, 57, 78, 85,
        88, 96, 115, 118, 121, 155, 156, 158-160, 166-167, 170, 181,
        182, 187, 194-197, 202, 204, 222, 223, 231, 243

  Russian campaign, French losses in, ii. 141

  Rûstem, i. 217; ii. 152, 191

  St. Jean D’Acre, siege of, i. 98

  St. Regent, i. 138

  St. Vincent, Lord, i. 147

  Salamanca, victory of, ii. 126

  San Giargo, battle of, i. 45

  Savants, the, with the French Army, i. 85, 86

  Saveria, i. 17

  ‘Sayings, A New Song of Old,’ ii. 5

  Sebastiani, i. 218

  Sheridan, Richard B., i. 54, 72, 74-76, 152, 165, 171; ii. 58

  Sidebotham, J., caricaturist, ii. 205

  Sièyes, i. 122-24

  Smith, J., caricaturist, i. 189

  Smith, Sir Sydney, i. 95, 98, 99

  Souley, or Sauler, caricaturist, ii. 64, 67, 98

  Soult, Marshal, i. 172

  Soup kitchens in Paris, i. 133

  Stapulensis, Johannis Faber, i. 11

  Stephanapoli, or Stepanapoulos, i. 3, 4

  Talleyrand, i. 82, 163, 217, 271, 285, 287; ii. 8, 25, 49, 52, 56, 59,
        67, 68, 84, 115, 187, 195-197, 205, 228

  Tallien, Jean Lambert, i. 35

  Tallien, Madame (Thérèse Cabarrus, Princesse de Chimay):
    meeting with Josephine, i. 33;
    ‘Nôtre Dame de Thermidor,’ 33;
    intimacy with Josephine and Barras, 35;
    her dress, 36;
    her obliging disposition and good looks, 37;
    ‘Nôtre Dame de Septembre,’ 38;
    dancing naked before Barras, 40;
    her beauty, 41

  Taw, S. T., caricaturist, ii. 226

  The Voice of the British Isles, i. 195

  Tiddy Doll, ii. 48-50, 83, 200

  Tierney, Mr., i. 54, 56, 72; ii. 212

  Tilsit, meeting of the Emperors at, ii. 69-73

  Toulon, siege of, i. 27;
    capture of, i. 27, 28

  Toussaint l’Ouverture, ii. 19

  Trafalgar, battle of, ii. 46-48

  Trevor, Mr., i. 58

  Twenty thousand pounds reward, i. 210

  Ulm, surrender of, ii. 45, 46

  Viconti, Madame, i. 36

  Violet, the, a symbol of Napoleon, ii. 209

  Volunteers, i. 283, 284; ii. 1

  Walcheren expedition, ii. 110

  Waterloo, battle of, ii. 229

  Wellington, Duke of, ii. 82, 126, 150, 151, 172, 197, 205, 206, 214,
        224, 225, 228-30, 243

  West, T., caricaturist, i. 169, 186, 210, 215, 230, 232, 253, 279;
        ii. 3, 15, 23

  Whitbread, Mr., i. 58; ii. 91, 212

  Whitworth, Lord, i. 160-62, 166, 167, 172, 175, 176, 178

  Windham, i. 150

  Wonder of wonders, most wonderful, i. 260

  Woodward, caricaturist, i. 32, 152, 160, 179, 238, 245, 264-266, 269;
        ii. 37, 42, 48, 57, 66, 75, 76, 81, 85

  Woronzow, Prince, ii. 184

  Wright, Capt., ii. 9-11

  Würmser, General, i. 49, 50

  Yeomanry cavalry raised, i. 58


_Spottiswoode & Co., Printers, New-street Square, London._


[1] Gauls.


  False of Heart, light of Ear, bloody of Hand,
  Fox in Stealth, Wolf in Greediness, Dog in Madness,
  Lion in Prey;--bless thy five Wits.

              _King Lear_, act iii. scene 4.

[3] _Memoirs_, vol. ii. p. 345.

[4] Coombe evidently did not think chronological accuracy of any
importance, for Napoleon’s coronation was on December 2, even if
reckoning old style.

[5] _The Naval Chronicle_, 1805.

[6] As a matter of fact, the crown is a broad circle of gold, set
with large rubies, emeralds, and sapphires, on a ground of blue and
gold enamel. The reason of its being called the ‘Iron Crown’ is that,
running round the centre of the _interior_ of the circle is a thin and
narrow band of iron, which is supposed to be manufactured from one of
the nails used in the Crucifixion of our Saviour, and given by St.
Helena to her son Constantine as a talisman to protect him in battle.

[7] Free translation for ‘God has given it me--let him beware who would
touch it,’ the usual form of words when this crown was used.

[8] Vol. xlix. p. 763.

[9] September 11, 1805.

[10] The news of the victory at Trafalgar was only published on
November 6.

[11] _Everyday Book_, vol. i. p. 575.

[12] He was a constant attendant in the crowd on Lord Mayor’s show.

[13] On March 31 Joseph Bonaparte was made King of Naples, and Murat
Grand Duke of Berg and Cleves. A few months subsequently, Louis
Bonaparte was made King of Holland, and the following year Jerome King
of Westphalia.

[14] A ‘hand,’ as a measure in horse-flesh, is four inches.

[15] The nine of diamonds.

[16] Suspected.

[17] Of Austria.

[18] ‘The Broken Bridge, or Boney outwitted by General Danube,’ June

[19] The divorce took place on December 16.

[20] His second valet.

[21] _Memoirs of Madame Junot._

[22] Third part of King Henry VI., act v. scene 6.

[23] See next page.

[24] _Napoleon in Exile_, by B. O’Meara.

[25] _My Reminiscences_, by Lord Ronald Gower, vol. i. p. 209, ed. 1883.

[26] The italics are mine.--J. A.

[27] The Hetman, Platoff, is said to have promised his daughter in
marriage, and a fortune for her dowry, to whoever would bring him
Napoleon’s head.

[28] Napoleon was at Dresden when he heard the news of the defeat at

[29] Würtemburg.

[30] The real quotation is: ‘Justice demands of her the sacrifice of
her bloodguilty tyrant.’

[31] Gas was just then coming into notoriety as an illuminating power.
Westminster Bridge was lit by gas December 31, 1813, but its use did
not become general in London until 1816.

[32] Deceiving.

[33] ‘Funking’ is smoking, or causing a great smell.

[34] _Buonapartiana, ou Choix d’Anecdotes curieuses._ Paris, 1814.

[35] One of the pyramids.

[36] _Histoire de l’Empereur, racontée dans une Grange par un vieux

[37] Borodino.

[38] In the French original it is ‘_Tirez donc, François, vous nous
faites attendre!_’

[39] They alluded to the Duke of Bassano, Caulaincourt, Bertrand, and
some others.

[40] He accompanied the Emperor to Elba. Constant, as we have seen,
left him.

[41] Anagram upon Bonaparte’s name, on his attempting to steal the
Crown, &c. ‘_Bona rapta pone, Leno!_ Lay down the goods you have
stolen, Rascal!’

[42] The first twenty-seven verses of the fourteenth chapter of Isaiah.

[43] As a matter of fact, both his mother, Madame Letitia, and his
sister, Pauline went to Elba, soon after his arrival.

[44] _A Voice from St. Helena._ O’Meara.

[45] Plentifully.

[46] Slept.

[47] Rolls of the drum.

[48] Horse, or, as we should say, ‘gee-gee.’

[49] Stronger.

[50] We must recollect that George the Magnificent was then Regent, and
his taste in architecture was decidedly Eastern.

[51] Or Hartwell, in Buckinghamshire, where he resided whilst in

[52] There is a very amusing skit about these ‘R--l Whiskers,’ which
were assumed to be as false as the historical wigs, published early in
1816. It is too long to reproduce, although it is really laughable;
but, at all events, space can be found for the first few lines.


    _From a puissant Prince to his Cast-off Whiskers, on his
    leaving London to make an Excursion._

  Adieu, my dear Whiskers! dear Whiskers, adieu!
  I ne’er shall love Whiskers as I have lov’d you,
  So becoming your form, and so brilliant your hue,
  I ne’er admir’d Whiskers as I’ve admired you.
  Your curve was so lovely, so like a horse-shoe,
  Not a Whisker at Court was so lovely as you.
  The Baron Geramb’s were immense, it is true,
  But they didn’t sweep round half so tasty as you.

[53] _Times_, June 1, 1815.

[54] George Alexander Stevens gave the famous ‘Lecture on Heads’,
_circa_ 1763 or 1764, by which it is said that here and in America he
cleared nearly 10,000_l._

[55] June 30, 1815.

[56] July 25, 1815.

[57] General Gourgaud.

[58] _A visit to Bonaparte in Plymouth Sound_, by a Lady. Plymouth,

[59] Mackerel.

[60] _Interesting Particulars of Napoleon’s Deportation for Life to St.
Helena, &c._ London, 1816. Printed for W. Hone.

[61] By George Colman the younger.

[62] _i.e._ the midshipmen who took female parts.

[63] The Bourbon colour.

Transcriber’s Notes

Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a
predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not
changed. Vernacular spellings not changed. The spelling and accent
marks of non-English words have not been thoroughly checked.

Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced
quotation marks retained.

Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.

Text uses both “Blücher” and “Blucher”; both retained.

Text uses “Wurtemberg”, “Würtemberg”, “Wurtemburg”, and “Würtemburg”;
all retained.

Illustrations in the middle of poems have been moved so as to either
precede or follow those poems.

Some materials in Volume II also appeared in Volume I.

Index references not checked for accuracy.

Page 87: “far too serious in its conception” was followed by a wide
space, then “Napoleon’s”, in two editions of this book. Transcriber
added a period after “conception”.

Page 117: The reference number to footnote 22 has been moved from the
beginning to the end of the line on which it appears.

Page 201: The “Hell” of “Hellbaronian Emperor” was printed with a
strikethrough, above which is “El”. In the text version of this eBook,
this is represented by “Hellbaronian/Elbaronian”.

Page 203: The “ow” of “Elbow” was printed with a strikethrough, above
which is “a”. In the text version of this eBook, this is represented by

Page 216: “Hell Bay” was printed with a strikethrough, above which is
“Elba”. In the text version of this eBook, this is represented by “Hell

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