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

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-witness58: —

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 enoughFor 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 roarAt 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 aghastWe 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 outstaidBy some, and by others, attempts were still madeTo get round the ship, in hopes Bonaparte mightAt 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 pamphlet60: —

‘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 Gentleman61 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 despatch: —

‘Communication made by Lord Keith, in the name of the English Ministers

‘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 service.

‘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.’

CHAPTER LXI

NAPOLEON IS SENT ON BOARD THE ‘NORTHUMBERLAND’ – HE PROTESTS AGAINST HIS EXILE – PUBLIC OPINION AS TO HIS TREATMENT

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 immolated!

Napoleon.

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. Helena.

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 confessThe 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.

‘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 troubleTheir 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.’

CHAPTER LXII

VOYAGE TO ST. HELENA – CESSATION OF CARICATURES

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!!!’