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English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon I. Volume II (of 2)
Napoleon was very fond of his little boy, and the caricaturist represents him in the nursery, thus —
But in his babe he found relief,This was a cure for all his grief,For his delightful dulcet squallWou’d not allow a tear to fall.What wondrous splendor was devisedWhen the dear Infant was baptized;For Emperors, Kings, Queens, and DukesAssembled with their smiling looks,Bestowing their congratulations,And making curious observations.With curiosity they eyedThe King of Rome – the father’s pride,And some old gossips cried ‘Oh la!How he resembles his papa.’Madame Junot gives some interesting details of Napoleon as a father: – ‘On my return to France, I found the Emperor much altered in appearance. His features had acquired a paternal character. What a beautiful child was the young King of Rome! How lovely he appeared as he rode through the gardens of the Tuileries in his shell-shaped calèche, drawn by two young deer, which had been trained by Franconi, and which were given him by his aunt, the Queen of Naples. He resembled one of those figures of Cupid which have been discovered in the ruins of Herculaneum. One day I had been visiting the young King, the Emperor was also there, and he was playing with the child – as he always played with those he loved – that is to say, he was tormenting him. The Emperor had been riding, and held in his hand a whip, which attracted the child’s notice. He stretched out his little hand, and when he seized the whip, burst into a fit of laughter, at the same time embracing his father. “Is he not a fine boy, Madame Junot?” said the Emperor; “you must confess that he is.” I could say so without flattery, for he certainly was a lovely boy. “You were not at Paris,” continued the Emperor, “when my son was born. It was on that day I learned how much the Parisians love me… What did the army say on the birth of the child?” I told him the soldiers were enthusiastic during many days; he had already heard so, but was happy to receive a confirmation of their joy. He then pinched his son’s cheek and his nose; the child cried. “Come, come, sir,” said the Emperor, “do you suppose you are never to be thwarted, and do kings cry?”… He used to take the King of Rome in his arms, and toss him up in the air. The child would then laugh, until the tears stood in his eyes. Sometimes the Emperor would take him before a looking-glass, and work his face into all sorts of grimaces; and, if the child was frightened and shed tears, Napoleon would say: “What, Sire, do you cry? A King, and cry? Shame, Shame!”
‘The hours at which the young King was taken to the Emperor were not precisely fixed, nor could they be, but his visits were most frequently at the time of déjeûner. On these occasions the Emperor would give the child a little claret, by dipping his finger in the glass, and making him suck it. Sometimes he would daub the young Prince’s face with gravy. The child would laugh heartily at seeing his father as much a child as he was himself, and only loved him the more for it. Children invariably love those who play with them. I recollect that once when Napoleon had daubed the young King’s face, the child was highly amused, and asked the Emperor to do the same to Maman Quiou, for so he called his governess, Madame de Montesquiou.’
Rowlandson’s idea of the royal infant is given in a caricature (published April 14, 1811) called, ‘Nursing the Spawn of a Tyrant, or Frenchmen Sick of the Brood.’23 Maria Louisa is aghast at her offspring, who, screaming, threatens her with a dagger. She thus pours out her woes: ‘There’s no condition sure, so curst as mine! Day and night to dandle such a dragon – the little angry cur snarls while it feeds; see how the blood is settled in its scarecrow face; what brutal mischief sits upon his brow. Rage and vengeance sparkle in his cheeks; the very spawn and spit of its tyrant father. Nay, now I look again, he is the very picture of his grandfather, the Devil!’ This must have been pleasant for Napoleon to hear, which he evidently does, as he is but partially concealed behind a curtain.
Some one (name unknown, August 20, 1811) has given us, ‘The Deputeys apointed by the Legislative Body, doing Homage to the King of Rome in the Nursery at St. Cloud.’ His gouvernante, Madame de Montesquiou, presents him to the Deputies, who kneel and kiss him, saying: ‘Madam Governess – not one of us can behold without a most lively interest, that August Infant – on whom rest so many Destinies, and whose Age and Charming Qualities inspire the most tender sentiments in the French and surrounding Nations.’ The lady replies: ‘Monsieurs – I thank you for the polite and flattering encomiums you are pleased to bestow on me – I thank you in the name of the young prince, whose Charms are inexpressible, and regret that he cannot add his personal sentiments to those which I entertain, to the Legislative Body.’ In another portion of the picture the foul linen of the precious child is being washed and hung to dry.
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 RETREATThe next caricature requires some little explanation. We find in the ‘Courier’ of September 20, 1811, the following paragraph: – ‘Dover, September 19. Early this morning we heard a heavy firing on the opposite shore; it continued at times all the morning, and was very hot about one o’clock; the wind is to the southward, and eastward, which makes us hear very plain; no news has arrived as to the cause; by some it is conjectured that Buonaparte is at Boulogne, and by others, that the flotilla is out, and some of our cruisers firing at them. It still continues, though not so heavy as in the early part of the day.’
Details did not arrive till the 22nd, and then the ‘Courier’ published an account of the naval engagement off Boulogne, on which the caricature is evidently grounded: ‘The cause of the incessant firing on the French Coast, is now ascertained to be an engagement between the Naiad, 3 sloops, and a cutter, and 7 large French praams, each as large as a frigate, 11 gun brigs, and other small craft, 27 in all. The following letter gives an account of the engagement: – We took the Port Admiral in his praam, but afterwards ran off – However we took another, and brought her away – Buonaparte saw the engagement – he was in a boat with Marshall Ney.’
All accounts, though they do not agree in the number of French vessels engaged, are singularly unanimous as to the presence of Napoleon and Ney.
‘The first glorious exploit of the Invincible Flotilla. Devils among the Flats, or Boney getting into Hot Water’ (unknown artist, September 20, 1811), represents one of the Flotilla returning much damaged, and full of corpses, only the captain and a steersman alive on board. Napoleon, who is in another boat, is in a fearful rage, tries to get at him, and is restrained by one of his marshals (Ney) – who remarks, ‘Ma foi, take care, your Majesty will be in hot water up to the chin’ – from throwing himself into the boiling water. ‘You scoundrel,’ says he, ‘how dare you run away when you were 27 to 5. I’ll order the guns of the batteries to sink every one of you.’ But the captain excuses himself, ‘Eh bien, mais, mon Empereur, you tell us de Jack Anglais be men, mais, by Gar, we find dem Devils.’ To which a man in Napoleon’s boat replies, ‘Very true Monsieur Ney, de devils Jack Bulls make hot water all over de Vorld.’ The spirit of Nelson appears, like a comet in the sky, darting lightning at the Flotilla.
The year 1812 was not fruitful in caricature of Napoleon. In May, accompanied by Maria Louisa, he visited the eastern part of France, met the King and Queen of Saxony at Freyburg, and entered Dresden in state. There he met the Emperor and Empress of Austria, the King of Prussia, and the Kings of Saxony, Naples, Würtemberg, Westphalia, and Bavaria, besides a heap of smaller potentates. The Emperor of Russia was not present; he had concluded an alliance with Sweden against France, an alliance which was afterwards, during this year, joined by Great Britain. In June, Napoleon visited Dantzig, and left it on the 11th. As a final measure, Count Lauriston was sent to Alexander, to see if the difference could be patched up, but the breach was made inevitable by the refusal of that monarch, or his ministers, to see him.
This decided Napoleon, and, from his head-quarters at Wilkowisky, he issued the following proclamation: ‘Soldiers! the second war of Poland has commenced. The first was terminated at Friedland and Tilsit. At Tilsit, Russia swore eternal alliance with France, and war against England. She has openly violated her oath; and refuses to render any explanation of her strange conduct, till the French eagles shall have repassed the Rhine, and, consequently, left their Allies at her discretion. Russia is impelled onward by fatality. Her destiny is about to be accomplished. Does she believe that we have degenerated? that we are no longer the soldiers of Austerlitz? She has placed us between dishonour and war: the choice cannot for a moment be doubtful. Let us march forward then, and, crossing the Niemen, carry the war into her territories! The second war of Poland will be to the French arms as glorious as the first; but our next peace must carry with it its own guarantee, and put an end to that arrogant influence which, for the last fifty years, Russia has exercised over the affairs of Europe.’
In No. 1 of a series of caricatures on the Russian campaign, published in April 1813, and seemingly by G. Cruikshank, is represented, ‘The Parting of Hector-Nap, and Andromache, or Russia threatened.’ Napoleon’s horse is waiting for him, the windows are crowded with ladies to see the departure. Napoleon is ecstatic at the sight of his little son, who is held aloft by Maria Louisa. The young King of Rome flourishes a sword, and says, ‘I will kill the people, as my Papa does.’ His mother wishes him to ‘Kiss him, then, my dear! and he will bring you some of the naughty Russians to kill.’ Napoleon bids ‘Farewell! I go, I’ll see, I’ll conquer. On my return I’ll greet our Son with a new Title.
That’s right, my boy, cause war to rageAnd rise the Tyrant of a future age.’Napoleon started on this disastrous campaign, which was the prelude to his downfall, with an army of about four hundred and twenty thousand men, most of them doomed to perish in the snows of Russia. The river Niemen was crossed, and, on June 28, Napoleon made his public entry into Wilna, which had not long since, and very hurriedly, been evacuated by the Emperor Alexander.
But even the commencement of this campaign was marked by disaster. Napoleon had arranged all the details; but the incompetence, or worse, of his subordinates failed to carry them out. After the Niemen had been crossed, not a third of the provisions necessary for the army had arrived, and at Wilna it was found that some hundreds of men had perished from want and fatigue. The mortality was worse among the horses, having lost about ten thousand. Before a battle was fought, and scarcely a month from the commencement of the campaign, there were twenty-five thousand sick men in the hospitals at Wilna.
Napoleon waited a fortnight at Wilna; but the Russians were driven back from Ostrovno, by Murat, and more time was consumed at Witepsk. Then came the attack on Smolensko, on August 16 and 17, when the French lost 15,000, and the Russians 10,000 men, and the Russians still kept the city. But next day, when the French again advanced against it, they found it deserted. For this the Russian general, Barclay de Tolly, was deprived of his command, forasmuch as he had given up a holy city to the enemy without fighting a pitched battle for its preservation.
But, to proceed somewhat chronologically, we must remember that, on July 22, Wellington gained a great victory at Salamanca, where the French lost eleven pieces of cannon, two eagles, and six colours, one general, 136 other officers, and 7,000 prisoners. The general public did not know this news till the 4th of August, and the illuminations in its honour did not take place till the 17th, 18th, and 19th of August. It is to this event, doubtless, that the following refers.
In September 1812 was published a caricature of ‘British Welcome or a Visit from the Bantam to the Lion.
Though Bantam Boney claps his wings,Yet this we may rely on:He’ll turn his tail and run awayWhene’er he meets the Lion.’And that is precisely as he is represented in the caricature. The pursuing lion says, ‘So, my little Bantam, you are come to pay me a visit – Well lets have a shake of your claw.’ But the bantam, with a very terrified expression of countenance, declines: ‘Excusé moi, Monsr le Lion, you gripe too hard.’
The battle of Borodino (or, as the French call it, Moskowa) was fought on September 7, and was, probably, the bloodiest of all Napoleon’s battles, but it laid Moscow open to the conqueror.
But soon the cloudless sun was gone,And a thick fog arose thereon —Nap prais’d the fog – indeed he did,Because his movements would be hid —And to the army, in array,This was the order of the day —‘Brave soldiers! fight for endless glory,The wish’d-for field now lies before ye,You’ll with abundance be supplied,Good winter quarters, too, beside —A quick return home – that is more;Then fight, my lads, as heretofore;Posterity will say —There’s oneWho was at Moscow when ’twas won.’The French and Russians now engaged,And furiously the battle raged;In great confusion, and dismay,Poor Boney’s scatter’d troops gave way;Our hero his assaults repeated,And still the wounded French retreated.‘This battle,’ Nap exclaim’d, ‘has been,The greatest that was ever seen.’And true enough, our hero said,For eighty thousand men lay dead.The French entered Moscow on September 14, a day that Napoleon must have bitterly rued. I do not think the burning of this city could be better told than by Napoleon’s own words24: ‘Had it not been for that fire at Moscow, I should have succeeded. I would have wintered there. There were in that city about forty thousand citizens, who were, in a manner, slaves. For you must know that the Russian nobility keep their vassals in a sort of slavery. I would have proclaimed liberty to all the slaves in Russia, and abolished vassalage and nobility. This would have procured me the union of an immense and powerful party. I would either have made a peace at Moscow, or else I would have marched the next year to Petersburg.
‘Alexander was assured of it, and sent his diamonds, valuables, and ships to England. Had it not been for that fire, I should have succeeded in everything. I beat them, two days before, in a great action at Moskowa; I attacked the Russian army of two hundred and fifty thousand strong, entrenched up to their necks, with ninety thousand, and totally defeated them. Seventy thousand Russians lay upon the field. They had the impudence to say that they had gained the battle, though two days after, I marched into Moscow. I was in the midst of a fine city, provisioned for a year, for in Russia they always lay in provisions for several months before the frost sets in. Stores of all kinds were in plenty. The houses of the inhabitants were well provided, and many had left their servants to attend upon us. In most of them there was a note left by the proprietor, begging the French officers who took possession to take care of their furniture and other things: that they had left every article necessary for our wants, and hoped to return in a few days, when the Emperor Alexander had accommodated matters, at which time they would be happy to see us. Many ladies remained behind. They knew that I had been in Berlin and Vienna with my armies, and that no injury had been done to the inhabitants; and, moreover, they expected a speedy peace. We were in hopes of enjoying ourselves in winter quarters, with every prospect of success in the spring. Two days after our arrival, a fire was discovered, which, at first, was not supposed to be alarming, but to have been caused by the soldiers kindling their fires too near the houses, which were chiefly of wood. I was angry at this, and issued very strict orders on the subject to the commandants of regiments and others.
‘The next day it had advanced, but still not so as to give serious alarm. However, afraid that it might gain upon us, I went out on horseback, and gave every direction to extinguish it. The next morning a violent wind arose, and the fire spread with the greatest rapidity. Some hundred miscreants, hired for that purpose, dispersed themselves in different parts of the town, and, with matches, which they concealed under their cloaks, set fire to as many houses to windward as they could, which was easily done, in consequence of the combustible materials of which they were built. This, together with the violence of the wind, rendered every effort to extinguish the fire ineffectual. I, myself, narrowly escaped with life. In order to shew an example, I ventured into the midst of the flames, and had my hair and eyebrows singed, and my clothes burnt off my back; but it was in vain, as they had destroyed most of the pumps, of which there were above a thousand; out of all these, I believe that we could only find one that was serviceable. Besides, the wretches that had been hired by Rostopchin ran about in every quarter, disseminating fire with their matches, in which they were but too much assisted by the wind.
‘This terrible conflagration ruined everything. I was prepared for everything but this. It was unforeseen, for who would have thought that a nation would have set its capital on fire? The inhabitants themselves did all they could to extinguish it, and several of them perished in their endeavours. They also brought before us numbers of the incendiaries, with their matches, as among such a popolazzo we never could have discovered them ourselves. I caused about two hundred of these wretches to be shot.
‘Had it not been for this fatal fire, I had everything my army wanted: excellent winter quarters; stores of all kinds were in plenty; and the next year would have decided it. Alexander would have made peace, or I would have been in Petersburg.’ I asked if he thought that he could entirely subdue Russia. ‘No,’ replied Napoleon; ‘but I would have caused Russia to make such a peace as suited the interests of France. I was five days too late in quitting Moscow. Several of the generals were burnt out of their beds. I, myself, remained in the Kremlin until surrounded by flames. The fire advanced, seized the Chinese and India warehouses, and several stores of oil and spirits, which burst forth in flames, and overwhelmed everything.
‘I then retired to a country-house of the Emperor Alexander’s, distant about a league from Moscow, and you may figure to yourself the intensity of the fire, when I tell you that you could scarcely bear your hands upon the walls or windows on the side next to Moscow, in consequence of their heated state.
‘It was the spectacle of a sea and billows of fire, a sky and clouds of flame; mountains of red rolling flames, like immense waves of the sea, alternately bursting forth, and elevating themselves to skies of fire, and then sinking into the ocean of flame below. Oh! it was the most grand, the most sublime, and the most terrific sight the world ever beheld.’
Napoleon, however, returned to the Kremlin on September 20, and, the main portion of the building being uninjured, a theatre was improvised therein. Early in October, he stated his determination to march on St. Petersburg, but never acted on it. Instead, he entered into negotiations for peace. Snow began to fall on October 13, a portent of an early winter, and winter quarters must be found. Events, however, did not march as he would have had them. On the 18th the Russians, under Beningsen, attacked and defeated Murat, and on the 19th Napoleon left Moscow, and the famous flight from thence began. Of the horrors of that flight, it is hardly the province of this work to dilate upon – mine is more to chronicle the feeling in England with regard to the events then passing. It may be said that it was bad taste to caricature such an appalling disaster – but when did a question of taste deter a satirist or caricaturist? Take, as an instance, an event which many of us well remember, the death of the Emperor Nicholas of Russia in 1855. That solemn event might well have been passed by, but it was food to the caricaturist, and he made money out of it. See ‘Punch’ of March 10, 1855, and note the ghastly cartoon of ‘General Février turned Traitor. “Russia has Two Generals in whom she can confide – Generals Janvier and Février.” Speech of the late Emperor of Russia.’
‘Jack Frost attacking Boney in Russia’ was published in November 1812. A fearful-looking monster, mounted on a northern bear, pursues Bonaparte (who flees), pelting him all the way with huge snowballs. Napoleon is on skates, and holds his poor frost-bitten nose, crying out, ‘By gar, Monsieur Frost this is a much colder Reception than I expected. I never experienced such a pelting before – I find I must take care of my nose, as well as my toes. Pray forgive me this time, and I swear by St Dennis never to enter your dominion again.’ Jack Frost makes answer, ‘What, Master Boney! have I caught you at last. I’ll teach you Russian fare. Take that, and that, as a relish, and digest it.’
‘General Frost shaveing Little Boney’ (December 1, 1812) is very grim in its humour. Bonaparte begs, but in vain, for pity: ‘Pray Brother General, have Mercy. Don’t overwhelm me with your hoary element. You have so nipped me, that my very teeth chatter. O dear – I am quite chop fallen.’ But the unrelenting and unpitying Frost replies, ‘Invade my Country, indeed! I’ll shave, freeze, and bury you in snow, you little Monkey.’
‘Polish Diet with French Desert’ is the title of a caricature published December 8, 1812. It represents Bonaparte spitted, and being roasted before an enormous fire, on which is being cooked a frying-pan full of frogs, which, however, jump out of it into the fire. A Westphalian bear is turning the spit and jeering at the poor victim. ‘How do you like Benningsen baisting, Master Boney? and your Frogs?’ This ‘Benningsen baisting’ is being very liberally supplied to Boney by a gigantic Russian, who holds a huge ladleful of it in one hand, whilst with the other he grasps a red-hot poker of Russian iron. This ferocious Cossack says, ‘I’ll Roast – Beast (baste) – Dish – & Devour you! He smoaks Brother Bruin – another turn and he is done.’ Poor Napoleon, in his agony, calls out, ‘Our situation may be fun to you, Mr. Bear – but Death to us.’
The following shows the estimation in which Bonaparte’s bulletins were held by the English.
In December 1812 G. Cruikshank gave his idea of ‘Boney hatching a Bulletin, or Snug Winter Quarters.’ With the exception of one Frenchman, who wears pieces of board for snow-shoes, and who exclaims, ‘By Gar, he is almost lost!!’ Boney and all his army are up to their necks in snow. A general asks him, ‘Vat de devil shall ve say in de Bulletin?’ Boney replies, ‘Say!!!! why say we have got into comfortable Winter Quarters, and that the weather is very fine, and will last 8 days longer. Say we have got plenty of Soup Maigre, plenty of Minced Meat – Grill’d Bears fine eating – driving Cut-us-off to the Devil. Say we shall be at home at Xmas to dinner – give my love to darling – dont let John Bull know that I have been Cow poxed – tell a good lie about the Cossacks. D – n it, tell anything but the truth.’
There was another version of ‘The Valley of the Shadow of Death,’ published December 18, 1812, but it is not so good as that by Gillray already given (September 24, 1808): —
By conflagrations always harass’d,No man was ever so embarrass’d;He sought in vain a lurking place,Destruction star’d him in the face;Hemm’d in – he sought for peace in vain —No peace could Bonaparte obtain;He swore, when peace he could not get,The Russians were a barb’rous set.Intending now to change his rout,He sent Murat on the look out;Murat, tho’, met with a defeat,Which play’d the deuce with Nap’s retreat.How great was Bonaparte’s despair!He raved, he swore, he tore his hair —His troops were absolutely frozen,No man was sure he had his nose on.The Cossacks, too, made rude attacks,And laid some hundreds on their backs;So, in the midst of an affray,Nap thought it best to run away.According to the caricaturist, during the retreat Napoleon was nearly caught by Cossacks, and only saved by jumping out of window; but as the same story is told of him during his retreat from Leipsic, they may as well be combined, and the reader will thus be enabled to apply it to whichever event he prefers: —
