English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon I. Volume II (of 2)

The following caricature shows the quality of news supplied to our forefathers: —

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

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

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

To thoroughly understand this caricature, we must first of all know something about Tiddy Doll. He was a seller of gingerbread, and was as famous in his time as was Colly Molly Puff in the time of Steele and Addison. He had a refrain, all his own, like a man well known to dwellers in Brighton and the West End of London – ‘Brandy balls.’ Hone[11 - Everyday Book, vol. i. p. 575.] 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 - He was a constant attendant in the crowd on Lord Mayor’s show.] 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.

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 name.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XLIII

NEGOTIATIONS FOR PEACE – DEATH OF FOX – NAPOLEON’S VICTORIOUS CAREER – HIS PROCLAMATION OF A BLOCKADE OF ENGLAND

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

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

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

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 - The nine of diamonds.] was in my hand – however I have now discarded it – Ay this will do – I have now a strong suit, without a knave among them.’ Russia observes: ‘I never had such luck since I have been a Russian, compleatly bested off the board – but that I must endeavour to forget, and try to play better in future.’ Spain says: ‘I was obliged to play, tho’ it was forced Spadille. My Queen deceived me – but however I must not now give myself Ayres, as I have lost all my Dollars.’ Prussia remarks: ‘Shall I play or not? If I play, I fear I shall be bested, and if not, they will call me Prussian Cake.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so ends the year 1806.

CHAPTER XLIV

NAPOLEON’S POLISH CAMPAIGN – BATTLE OF EYLAU – MEETING OF THE EMPERORS AT TILSIT – CAPTURE OF THE DANISH FLEET

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