The Project Gutenberg EBook of English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon I. Volume II (of 2), by John Ashton This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon I. Volume II (of 2) Author: John Ashton Release Date: October 12, 2015 [EBook #50185] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH CARICATURE, SATIRE, VOL II *** Produced by Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) CARICATURE AND SATIRE ON NAPOLEON I. VOL. II. WORKS BY JOHN ASHTON. A HISTORY OF THE CHAP-BOOKS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. With nearly 400 Illustrations, engraved in facsimile of the originals. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7s. 6d. SOCIAL LIFE IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE. From Original Sources. With nearly 100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7s. 6d. HUMOUR, WIT, AND SATIRE OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. With nearly 100 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7s. 6d. London: CHATTO & WINDUS, Piccadilly. ENGLISH CARICATURE AND SATIRE ON NAPOLEON I. BY JOHN ASHTON AUTHOR OF ‘SOCIAL LIFE IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE’ ETC. WITH 115 ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR IN TWO VOLUMES—VOL. II. London CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 1884 All rights reserved LONDON: PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE AND PARLIAMENT STREET CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME. CHAPTER XXXVIII. PAGE INVASION SQUIBS—CADOUDAL’S CONSPIRACY—EXECUTION OF THE DUC D’ENGHIEN—CAPTAIN WRIGHT 1 CHAPTER XXXIX. NAPOLEON PROCLAIMED EMPEROR—THE FLOTILLA—INVASION SQUIBS 12 CHAPTER XL. v NAPOLEON’S CORONATION 23 CHAPTER XLI. NAPOLEON’S LETTER TO GEORGE THE THIRD—NAVAL VICTORIES—CROWNED KING OF ITALY—ALLIANCE OF EUROPE—WITHDRAWAL OF THE ‘ARMY OF ENGLAND’ 35 CHAPTER XLII. SURRENDER OF ULM—BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR—PROPOSALS FOR PEACE—DANIEL LAMBERT 45 CHAPTER XLIII. NEGOTIATIONS FOR PEACE—DEATH OF FOX—NAPOLEON’S VICTORIOUS CAREER—HIS PROCLAMATION OF A BLOCKADE OF ENGLAND 57 CHAPTER XLIV. NAPOLEON’S POLISH CAMPAIGN—BATTLE OF EYLAU—MEETING OF THE EMPERORS AT TILSIT—CAPTURE OF THE DANISH FLEET 65 CHAPTER XLV. FRENCH ENTRY INTO PORTUGAL—BLOCKADE OF ENGLAND—FLIGHT OF THE PORTUGUESE ROYAL FAMILY—THE PENINSULAR WAR—FLIGHT OF KING JOSEPH 75 CHAPTER XLVI. PENINSULAR WAR, continued—MEETING AT ERFURT 87 CHAPTER XLVII. RETREAT TO CORUNNA—THE BROKEN BRIDGE OVER THE DANUBE—WAGRAM—JOSEPHINE’S DIVORCE 96 CHAPTER XLVIII. FAILURE OF EXPEDITIONS TO SPAIN, PORTUGAL, AND HOLLAND—NAPOLEON’S WOOING OF, AND MARRIAGE WITH, MARIA LOUISA—BIRTH OF THE KING OF ROME—NAPOLEON IN THE NURSERY 110 CHAPTER XLIX. A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT—NAPOLEON’S TOUR IN GERMANY—DECLARATION OF WAR WITH RUSSIA—ENTRY INTO WILNA—SMOLENSKO—BORODINO—ENTRY INTO MOSCOW—BURNING OF THE CITY—NAPOLEON’S RETREAT 123 CHAPTER L. REJOICINGS IN ENGLAND OVER THE RESULT OF NAPOLEON’S RUSSIAN CAMPAIGN—THE EMPEROR’S RETURN TO FRANCE 138 CHAPTER LI. THE ARMISTICE—BATTLE OF VITTORIA—DEFEAT AT LEIPSIC—THE BRIDGE BLOWN UP 150 CHAPTER LII. NAPOLEON’S RETURN TO PARIS—HIS RECEPTION 164 CHAPTER LIII. L’HOMME ROUGE—NAPOLEON’S SUPERSTITION 172 CHAPTER LIV. NAPOLEON AGAIN TAKES THE FIELD—HIS DEFEATS—THE ALLIES AT PARIS—NAPOLEON ABDICATES—HIS ATTEMPT TO POISON HIMSELF 181 CHAPTER LV. NAPOLEON LEAVES FOR ELBA—HIS RECEPTION THERE 194 vi vii CHAPTER LVI. NAPOLEON AT ELBA—HIS OCCUPATIONS WHILST THERE—FAITH BROKEN WITH HIM—THE VIOLET—GENERAL REJOICINGS AT HIS EXILE 203 CHAPTER LVII. NAPOLEON’S ESCAPE FROM ELBA—UNIVERSAL CONSTERNATION—FLIGHT OF THE BRITISH FROM FRANCE— CARICATURES ON HIS RETURN 214 CHAPTER LVIII. PREPARATIONS FOR WAR—THE SHORT CAMPAIGN—WATERLOO—NAPOLEON’S ABDICATION 225 CHAPTER LIX. NAPOLEON A PRISONER—SENT TO THE ISLE OF AIX—NEGOTIATIONS FOR SURRENDER—GOES ON BOARD THE ‘BELLEROPHON’ 233 CHAPTER LX. NAPOLEON ON BOARD THE ‘BELLEROPHON’—ARRIVAL AT TORBAY—CURIOSITY OF THE PEOPLE—THE ENGLISH GOVERNMENT DETERMINE TO SEND HIM TO ST. HELENA 239 CHAPTER LXI. NAPOLEON IS SENT ON BOARD THE ‘NORTHUMBERLAND’—HE PROTESTS AGAINST HIS EXILE—PUBLIC OPINION AS TO HIS TREATMENT 250 CHAPTER LXII. VOYAGE TO ST. HELENA—CESSATION OF CARICATURES 259 INDEX 269 ENGLISH CARICATURE AND SATIRE ON NAPOLEON THE FIRST. CHAPTER XXXVIII. INVASION SQUIBS—CADOUDAL’S CONSPIRACY—EXECUTION OF THE DUC D’ENGHIEN—CAPTAIN WRIGHT. The Volunteer movement was well shown in a print by A. M., November 1803: ‘Boney attacking the English Hives, or the Corsican caught at last in the Island.’ There are many hives, the chief of which has a royal crown on its top, and is labelled ‘Royal London Hive. Threadneedle Street Honey’—which Napoleon is attacking, sword in hand. George the Third, as Bee Master, stands behind the hives, and says, ‘What! what! you plundering little Corsican Villain, have you come to rob my industrious Bees of their Honey? I won’t trust to your oath. Sting, Sting the Viper to the heart my good Bees, let Buz, Buz be the Word in the Island.’ The bees duly obey their master’s request, and come in clouds over Napoleon, who has to succumb, and pray, kneeling, ‘Curse those Bees they sting like Scorpions. I did not think this Nation of Shopkeepers could sting so sharp. Pray good Master of the Bees, do call them off, viii 1 2 and I will swear by all the three creeds which I profess, Mahometan, Infidel, and Christian, that I will never disturb your Bees again.’ ‘Selling the Skin before the Bear is caught, or cutting up the Bull before he is killed,’ is by I. Cruikshank (December 21, 1803), and represents a Bull reposing calmly on the English shore, whilst on the opposite or French coast is Bonaparte, Talleyrand, and several Generals. Bonaparte, pointing to the Bull, says: ‘I shall take the Middle part, because it contains the Heart and Vitals—Talley, you may take the head, because you have been accustomed to take the Bull by the horns.’ Britannia stands, fully armed, behind the Bull, by an ‘alarm post,’ on which hangs a bell, ‘British Valor,’ which she is preparing to ring: ‘When these Mounseers have settled their plan, I will just rouse the Bull, and then see who will be cut up first.’ ‘New Bellman’s Verses for Christmas 1803!’ is an extremely inartistic work of an unknown man (December 1803); the only thing worth quoting about it are these verses:— This little Boney says he’ll come At Merry Christmas time, But that I say is all a hum, Or I no more will rhyme. Some say in wooden house he’ll glide, Some say in air Balloon, E’en those who airy schemes deride, Agree his coming soon. Now honest people list to me, Though Income is but small, I’ll bet my Wig to one Pen—ney, He does not come at all. ‘More than expected, or too many for Boney’ (artist unknown, December 1803), shows him as an Ass, on whose back is John Bull, Russia, Prussia, and Germany. Says Russia, ‘We all depend upon you Mr. Bull—give him a little more spurring, and we’ll soon make him feel the Rowels.’ John mildly expostulates with his quadruped: ‘Come—come, don’t be sulky—if you won’t go in a snaffle, you must be forced to go in a curb.’ Dean Swift’s immortal book did yeoman’s service to the caricaturists, and we find it again employed in a print by West, December 1803: ‘The Brobdingnag Watchman preventing Gulliver’s landing.’ It is very feeble, and merely consists of George the Third as a watchman turning the light of the ‘Constitutional Lanthorn’ upon Bonaparte and his companions, who are attempting a landing. Another print, by West (December 1803), shows ‘Mr. and Mrs. Bull giving Buonaparte a Christmas Treat!’ The latter is bound to a post in sight of, but beyond reach of, the national fare of this festival. John Bull says, holding up a piece of beef, in derision, ‘Yes, yes —the Beef is very good, so is the pudding too—but the deuce a morsel do you get of either, Master Boney.’ Mrs. Bull too, who is drinking from a frothing tankard, says: ‘Your health Master Boney, wishing you a merry Christmas,’ but offers him none. An unknown artist gives an undated picture of ‘a Cock and Bull Story.’ Napoleon, as the Gallic Cock, on his side of the Channel, sings Cock a dudle doo, I shall come over to you. I’ll fight true game, and crow my Fame, And make you all look blue. John Bull, who is peacefully reposing in his pastures rejoins:— You impertinent Cock, I’ll have you to know On this side the Brook, you never shall Crow, And if you’re not quick, and give up your jaw, I’ll teach you the nature of English Club Law. In 1803 was published an amusing squib, in which the names of various plays are very ingeniously made into a patriotic address:— THE GREEN ROOM OPINION OF THE Threatened Invasion. Should the Modern Tamerlane revive the tragedy of England Invaded, and, in the progress of his Wild goose Chace, escape the Tempest, he will find that, with us, it is Humours of the Age to be Volunteers. He will prove that we have many a Plain Dealer, who will tear off the Mask, under which the Hypocrite, this Fool of Fortune, this Choleric man, has abused a credulous world. Should he, to a Wonder, attempt a Trip to Scarborough, to set them all alive at Portsmouth, or to get on both sides of the gutter, he will assuredly meet a Chapter of Accidents on his Road to Ruin; for Britannia and the Gods are in Council, to make him a Castle Spectre: he will, too late, discover the Secret of Who’s the Dupe; and that it is the Custom of the Country of John Bull, to shew the Devil to pay to any Busybody, who seeks to enforce on us Reformation. This Double Dealer, who has excited dismay Abroad and at Home, and gained Notoriety by the magnitude of the mischiefs he has achieved, still presumes, by the Wheel of Fortune, like another Pizarro, to satiate his Revenge, and to learn 3 4 How to grow Rich, by renewing the distressing scenes of the Siege of Damascus; until amongst the desolated ruins of our City, he should establish himself like a London Hermit. That he Would if he Could, is past all doubt; but if he will take a Word to the Wise, from a Man of the World, he will believe He’s much to blame, and All in the Wrong; for the Doctor and the Apothecary are in the Committee; and by good Management, are forward in the Rehearsal of the lively Comedy of the Way to keep Him under Lock and Key. They may not be able to produce for him a Cure for the Heartache, or for the Vapourish Man, but they will shew him at least Cheap Living, and prove that he has sown his Wild Oats, in a Comedy of Errors. The Poor Soldier, whose generous heart expands to render Love for Love, is like the gallant and gay Lothario, armed for either field, and prepared to give Measure for Measure; and to convert the Agreeable Surprize, which the Acre Runaway anticipates in the Camp, from the Beaux Stratagem into a Tale of Mystery. Appearances are against him, as well as the Chances; but he is a desperate Gamester; and although his schemes of Conquest will end in Much ado about Nothing, like a Midsummer’s night’s Dream, or a Winter’s Tale, yet he is Heir at Law to our hate; and Every one has his Fault, if he does not unite to revive the splendid scenes of Edward the Black Prince, and Henry the Fifth, when France trembled beneath our arms at Cressy and Agincourt; and give to this unprincipled Bajazet an exit corresponding with his crimes. A NEW SONG OF OLD SAYINGS. 5 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. 6 7 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 8 9 10 11 officers landing assassins on your shores, shoot them instantly.’”’ CHAPTER XXXIX. NAPOLEON PROCLAIMED EMPEROR—THE FLOTILLA—INVASION SQUIBS. The most important event of the year to Napoleon himself, was his being made Emperor. Although First Consul for life, with power to appoint his successor, it did not satisfy his ambition. He would fain be Emperor, and that strong will, which brooked no thwarting, took measures to promote that result. In the Senate M. Curée moved, ‘that the First Consul be invested with the hereditary power, under the title of Emperor,’ and this motion was but feebly fought against by a few members, so that at last an address was drawn up, beseeching Napoleon to yield to the wishes of the nation. A plébiscite was taken on the subject, with the result that over three millions and a half people voted for it, and only about two thousand against it. On May 18, Cambacérès, at the head of the Senate, waited upon Napoleon, at St. Cloud, with an address detailing the feelings and wishes of the nation. It is needless to say that Napoleon ‘accepted the Empire, in order that he might labour for the happiness of the French.’ 12 14 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!’ 15 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.’ THE KING OF BROBDINGNAG AND GULLIVER. ‘A French Alarmist, or John Bull looking out for the Grand Flotilla!!’ (West, March 1804.) He is on the coast, accompanied by his bull-dog, and armed with a sword, looking through a telescope. Behind him is a Frenchman, who is saying, ‘Ah! Ah! Monsieur Bull,— dere you see our Grande flotilla—de grande gon boats—ma foi—dere you see em sailing for de grand attack on your nation—dere you see de Bombs and de Cannons—Dere you see de Grande Consul himself at de head of his Legions. Dere you see——’ But John Bull replies, ‘Mounseer, all this I cannot see—because ’tis not in sight.’ We now come to the caricatures relating to the Empire. A print, attributed to Rowlandson (May 1804?), shows ‘A Great Man on his Hobby Horse, a design for an Intended Statue on the Place la Liberté at Paris.’ Napoleon is riding the high horse ‘Power,’ which prances on a Globe. ‘A new French Phantasmagoria’ is by an unknown artist (May 1804). John Bull cannot realise the fact of Napoleon being Emperor, but stares at him through an enormous pair of spectacles. ‘Bless me, what comes here—its time to put on my large spectacles, and tuck up my trowsers. Why, surely, it can’t be—it is Bonny too, for all that. Why what game be’st thee at now? acting a play mayhap. What hast thee got on thy head there? always at some new freak or other.’ Bonaparte, in imperial robes, and with crown and sceptre, holds out his hand, and says: ‘What! my old Friend, Mr. Bull, don’t you know me?’ Ansell gives us (May 28, 1804) ‘The Frog and the Ox, or The Emperor of the Gulls in his stolen gear.’ Napoleon, very small, is depicted as capering about in imperial robes, with an enormous crown made of coins, daggers, and a cup of poison; his sceptre has for its top a guillotine. George the Third is regarding him through his glass. Napoleon says, ‘There Brother! there! I shall soon be as Big as you, it’s a real Crown, but it’s cursed heavy, my Head begins to ache already. I say Can’t we have a grand meeting like Henry the 8th and Francis the 1st?’ King George cannot quite make out the mannikin. ‘What have we got here, eh? A fellow that has stolen some Dollars, and made a Crown of them, eh? and then wants to pass them off for Sterling; it won’t go, it won’t pass Fellow.’ Beside the King is a bull, and behind Napoleon is a frog, who is trying to swell to the bull’s proportions, whilst John Bull laughingly remarks, ‘Dang it, why a looks as tho a’d burst: a’l nerr be zo big as one of our Oxen tho.’ ‘Injecting blood Royal, or Phlebotomy at St. Cloud,’ shews Napoleon, in his new phase of power, having the blood of a Royal Tiger infused into his veins. He says, ‘It’s a delightful operation! I feel the Citizenship oozing out at my fingers’ ends.—let all the family be plentifully supplied! Carry up a Bucket full to the Empress immediately!!!’ In June 1804 I. Cruikshank drew a picture called ‘the Right Owner.’ Louis the Eighteenth appears to Napoleon, and, pointing to his crown, says, ‘That’s Mine.’ Napoleon, who is seated on his throne, armed with sword, pistols, and dagger, shrinks back in violent alarm, exclaiming, ‘Angels and Ministers of Grace defend me.’ ‘A Proposal from the New Emperor’ is a caricature by Ansell (July 9, 1804). He comes, cap, or rather crown, in hand, to John Bull, saying, ‘My Dear Cousin Bull—I have a request to make you—the good people whom I govern, have been so lavish of their favors towards me—that they have exhausted every title in the Empire—therefore, in addition, I wish you to make me a Knight of Malta.’ John Bull replies, ‘I’ll see you d—d first!! You know I told you so before.’ ‘The Imperial Coronation’ is a very inartistic sketch by an unknown artist (July 31, 1804). Napoleon is being crowned by the Pope, who says, ‘In a little time you shall see him, and in a little time you shall not see him,’ and then lets down the crown, with cruel force, by a rope and pulley from the gibbet from which it has been suspended. Its weight crushes him through the platform on which he has been sitting, and he exclaims, ‘My dear Talleyrand, save me; My throne is giving way. I am afraid the foundation is rotten, and wants a deal of mending.’ Talleyrand sympathisingly answers, ‘Oh, Master, Master, the Crown is too heavy for you.’ I. Cruikshank drew ‘Harlequin’s last Skip’ (August 23, 1804). Bonaparte is represented in a harlequin’s suit, enormous cocked hat, boots, and a blackened face. His sword is broken, and, with upraised hands, in a supplicating attitude, he exclaims, ‘O Sacre Dieu! John Bull is de very Devil.’ John Bull, with upraised cudgel, says: ‘Mr. Boney Party, you have changed Characters pretty often and famously well, and skipped about at a precious rate. But this Invasion hop is your last—we have got you snug—the devil a trap to get through here—Your conjuration sword has lost its Power; you have lied till you are black in the face, and there is no believing a word you say—so now you shall carry John Bull’s mark about with you, as every swaggerer should.’ ‘British men of war towing in the Invader’s Fleet,’ artist unknown (September 25, 1804), shows a number of English sailors seated on the necks of French and Dutch men, whom they are guiding over the sea to England. One sailor, evidently a Scotchman, is pulling his opponent’s ears; the poor Frenchman cries out, ‘Oh Morbleu! de salt water make me sick; O mine pauvre Ears!’ but his ruthless conqueror has no pity, ‘Deil tak your soul, ye lubberly Loon, gin ye dinna mak aw sail, I’ll twist off your lugs.’ An English sailor rides the redoubtable Boney, and pulls his nose: ‘Steady Master Emperor, if you regard your Imperial Nose. Remember a British Tar has you in tow—No more of this wonderful, this great and mighty nation who frighten all the world with their buggabo invasion.’ But Boney pleads, ‘Oh! mercy, take me back, me will make you all Emperors; it will be Boney here, Boney there, and Boney everywhere, and me wish to my heart me was dead.’ An Irish sailor on a Dutchman yells out, ‘By Jasus, my Jewel, these bum boats are quizzical toys and sure— heave ahead, you bog trotting spalpeen, or I shall be after keel hauling you. Huzza, Huzza, Huzza, my boys, Huzza! ’Tis Britannia boys, 16 17 18 19 Britannia rules the waves.’ Another Dutchman complains, ‘O Mynheer Jan English you vill break my back.’ But the relentless sailor who bestrides him takes out his tobacco-box, and says, ‘Now for a quid of comfort! pretty gig for Jack Tars. Good bye to your bombast, we’re going to Dover, Was ever poor Boney, so fairly done over.’ A most remarkable caricature by Ansell (October 25, 1804) shows to what length party spirit will lead men—making truth entirely subservient to party purposes. It probably paid to vilify Napoleon, and consequently this picture was produced. It is called ‘Boney’s Inquisition. Another Specimen of his Humanity on the person of Madame Toussaint.’ Whatever may be our opinion of his treatment of Toussaint l’Ouverture, the only record we have in history (and I have expended much time and trouble in trying to find out the truth of the matter) is that his family, who were brought to France at the same time as himself, took up their residence at Agen, where his wife died in 1816. His eldest son, Isaac, died at Bordeaux in 1850. Now to describe the picture. Madame l’Ouverture is depicted as being bound to a stretcher nearly naked, whilst three Frenchmen are tearing her breasts with red-hot pincers. Another is pulling out her finger- nails with a similar instrument. She exclaims: ‘Oh Justice! Oh Humanity, Oh Deceitfull Villain, in vain you try to blot the Character of the English: ’tis their magnanimity which harrasses your dastard soul.’ One of the torturers says: ‘Eh! Diable! Why you no confess noting?’ Napoleon is seated on his throne, watching the scene with evident delight, chuckling to himself, ‘This is Luxury. Jaffa, Acre, Toulon and D’Enghien was nothing to it. Slave, those pincers are not half hot, save those nails for my Cabinet, and if she dies, we can make a confession for her.’ ‘The Genius of France nursing her darling’ is by a new hand, T. B. d——lle (November 26, 1804). ‘France, whilst dandling her darling, and amusing him with a rattle, sings— There’s a little King Pippin He shall have a Rattle and Crown; Bless thy five Wits,2 my Baby, Mind it don’t throw itself down! Hey my Kitten, my Kitten, &c. An unknown artist (December 11, 1804) gives us ‘The death of Madame Republique.’ Madame lies a corpse on her bed. Sieyès, as nurse, dandles the new emperor. John Bull, spectacles on nose, inquires, ‘Pray Mr. Abbé Sayes—what was the cause of the poor lady’s Death? She seem’d at one time in a tolerable thriving way.’ Sieyès replies, ‘She died in Child bed, Mr. Bull, after giving birth to this little Emperor.’ ‘The Loyalist’s Alphabet, an Original Effusion,’ by James Bisset (September 3, 1804), consists of twenty-four small engravings, each in a lozenge. ‘A, stands for Albion’s Isle,’—Britannia seated. ‘B, for brave Britons renown’d.’—A soldier and sailor shaking hands. ‘C, for a Corsican tyrant,’—Napoleon, with a skull, the guillotine, &c., in the background. ‘D, his dread downfall must sound.’—Being hurled from his throne by lightning. ‘E, for embattl’d we stand,’—A troop of soldiers. ‘F, ’gainst the French our proud Foes,’—shews England guarded by her ships,’ and the flotilla coming over. ‘G, for our glorious Gunners,’—Three artillerymen, and a cannon. ‘H, for Heroical blows,’—shews a ship being blown up. ‘I, for Invasion once stood,’—Some soldiers carousing. The English flag above the tricolour. ‘J, proves ’twas all a mere Joke.’—A soldier laughing heartily, and holding his sides. ‘K, for a favorite King, to deal against Knaves a great stroke.—Medallion of George the Third. ‘L, stands for Liberties’ laws,’—A cap of liberty, mitre, pastoral staff, crown, and open book. ‘M, Magna Charta’s strong chain.’—A soldier, sailor, Highlander, and civilian, joining hands. ‘N, Noble Nelson, whom Neptune, near Nile crown’d the Lord of the Main,’—is a portrait of the Hero. ‘O, stands for Britain’s fam’d Oak,’—which is duly portrayed. ‘P, for each brave British Prince.’—The three feathers show the Prince of Wales, in volunteer uniform. ‘Q, never once made a Question, Respecting the Deeds they’d evince,’—is an officer drawing his sword. ‘If R, for our Rights takes the field,’—is a yeomanry volunteer. ‘Or S, should a signal display,’—The British Standard. ‘They’d each call with T for the Trumpet. To Horse my brave boys and away.’—A mounted Trumpeter. ‘U, for United, we stand, V for our bold Volunteers,’—represents one of the latter. 20 21 22 ‘Whom W welcomes in War, and joins loyal X in three Cheers.’—A soldier and sailor, with hands clasped, cheering. ‘With Y all our Youths sally forth, the standards of Freedom advance,’—is a cannon between two standards. ‘With Z proving Englishmen’s Zeal, to humble the Zany of France,’—shews Napoleon with a fool’s cap on, chained to the wall in a cell. CHAPTER XL. NAPOLEON’S CORONATION. Napoleon’s coronation was the great event of the year; but some time before it was consummated the English caricaturist took advantage of it, and J. B. (West), in September 1804, produced a ‘Design for an Imperial Crown to be used at the Coronation of the New Emperor.’ A perusal of the foregoing pages will render any explanation unnecessary. 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 ye 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 ye 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. THE THREE GRACES. TALLEYRAND, KING AT ARMS. After them comes ‘Madame Talleyrand (ci-devant Mrs. Halhead the Prophetess),’ a stout, Jewish-looking woman, who is ‘Conducting the Heir Apparent in ye 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.’ NAPOLEON IN HIS CORONATION ROBES. 23 24 25 26 Then comes the central figures of the pageant, ‘His Imperial Majesty Napoleone ye 1st 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 ye Police, bearing the Sword of Justice.’ But Fouché is not content with this weapon. His other hand grasps an assassin’s dagger, and both it, and the sword, are well imbrued in blood. The rear of the procession is made up of a ‘Garde d’Honneur,’ which consists of a gaoler with the keys of the Temple and a set of fetters; a mouchard with his report, ‘Espionnage de Paris;’ Monsieur de Paris, the executioner, bears a coil of rope with a noose, and a banner with a representation of the guillotine—and a prisoner, holding aloft two bottles respectively labelled Arsenic and Opium. More banners and more soldiers fill up the background. What a sight that must have been on the morning of the 2nd of December! Visitors from all parts of France were there; and the cathedral of Notre-Dame must have presented a gorgeous coup d’œil, with its splendid ecclesiastical vestments, its magnificent uniforms, and the beautiful dresses and jewels of the ladies. It can hardly be imagined, so had better be described in the words of an eyewitness, Madame Junot.3 ‘Who that saw Notre-Dame on that memorable day, can ever forget it? I have witnessed in that venerable pile the celebration of sumptuous and solemn festivals; but never did I see anything at all approximating in splendour to the coup d’œil exhibited at Napoleon’s Coronation. The vaulted roof re-echoed the sacred chanting of the priests, who invoked the blessing of the Almighty on the ceremony about to be celebrated, while they awaited the arrival of the Vicar of Christ, whose throne was prepared near the altar. Along the ancient walls of tapestry were ranged, according to their rank, the different bodies of the State, the deputies from every City; in short, the representatives of all France assembled to implore the benediction of Heaven on the sovereign of the people’s choice. The waving plumes which adorned the hats of the Senators, Counsellors of State, and Tribunes; the splendid uniforms of the military; the clergy in all their ecclesiastical pomp; and the multitude of young and beautiful women, glittering in jewels, and arrayed in that style of grace and elegance which is only seen in Paris;—altogether presented a picture which has, perhaps, rarely been equalled, and certainly never excelled. ‘The Pope arrived first; and at the moment of his entering the Cathedral, the anthem Tu es Petrus was commenced. His Holiness advanced from the door with an air at once majestic and humble. Ere long, the firing of cannon announced the departure of the procession from the Tuileries. From an early hour in the morning the weather had been exceedingly unfavourable. It was cold and rainy, and appearances seemed to indicate that the procession would be anything but agreeable to those who joined it. But, as if by the especial favour of Providence, of which so many instances are observable in the career of Napoleon, the clouds suddenly dispersed, the sky brightened up, and the multitudes who lined the streets from the Tuileries to the Cathedral, enjoyed the sight of the procession, without being, as they had anticipated, drenched by a December rain. Napoleon, as he passed along, was greeted by heartfelt expressions of enthusiastic love and attachment. ‘On his arrival at Notre-Dame, Napoleon ascended the throne, which was erected in front of the grand altar. Josephine took her place beside him, surrounded by the assembled sovereigns of Europe. Napoleon appeared singularly calm. I watched him narrowly, with the view of discovering whether his heart beat more highly beneath the imperial trappings, than under the uniform of the guards; but I could observe no difference, and yet I was at the distance of only ten paces from him. The length of the ceremony, however, seemed to weary him; and I saw him several times check a yawn. Nevertheless, he did everything he was required to do, and did it with propriety. When the Pope anointed him with the triple unction on his head and both hands, I fancied, from the direction of his eyes, that he was thinking of wiping off the oil rather than of anything else; and I was so perfectly acquainted with the workings of his countenance, that I have no hesitation in saying that was really the thought that crossed his mind at that moment. During the ceremony of anointing, the Holy Father delivered that impressive prayer which concluded with these words:—“Diffuse, O Lord, by my hands, the treasures of your grace and benediction on your servant, Napoleon, whom, in spite of our personal unworthiness, we this day anoint Emperor, in your name.” Napoleon listened to this prayer with an air of pious devotion; but just as the Pope was about to take the crown, called the Crown of Charlemagne, from the altar, Napoleon seized it, and placed it on his own head. At that moment he was really handsome, and his countenance was lighted up with an expression, of which no words can convey an idea. He had removed the wreath of laurel which he wore on entering the church, and which encircles his brow in the fine picture of Gérard. The crown was, perhaps, in itself, less becoming to him; but the expression excited by the act of putting it on, rendered him perfectly handsome. ‘When the moment arrived for Josephine to take an active part in the grand drama, she descended from the throne and advanced towards the altar, where the Emperor awaited her, followed by her retinue of Court ladies, and having her train borne by the Princesses Caroline, Julie, Eliza, and Louis. One of the chief beauties of the Empress Josephine was not merely her fine figure, but the elegant turn of her neck, and the way in which she carried her head; indeed, her deportment, altogether, was conspicuous for dignity and grace. I have had the honour of being presented to many real princesses, to use the phrase of the Faubourg St.-Germain, but I never saw one who, to my eyes, presented so perfect a personification of elegance and majesty. In Napoleon’s countenance, I could read the conviction of all I have just said. He looked with an air of complacency at the Empress as she advanced towards him; and when she knelt down—when the tears, which she could not repress, fell upon her clasped hands, as they were raised to Heaven, or rather to Napoleon—both then appeared to enjoy one of those fleeting moments of pure felicity, which are unique in a lifetime, and serve to fill up a lustrum of years. The Emperor performed, with peculiar grace, every action required of him during the ceremony; but his manner of crowning Josephine was most remarkable: after receiving the small crown, surmounted by the Cross, he had first to place it on his own head, and then to transfer it to that of the Empress. When the moment arrived for placing the crown on the head of the woman, whom popular superstition regarded as his good genius, his manner was almost playful. He took great pains to arrange this little crown, which was placed over Josephine’s tiara of diamonds; he put it on, then took it off, and finally put it on again, as if to promise her she should wear it gracefully and lightly.’ 27 28 29 30 It is almost painful, after reading this vivid and soul-stirring description, to have to descend to the level of the carica...