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

CHAPTER X

After the entry into Alexandria, Napoleon, by several proclamations, imposed the strictest discipline upon his soldiers; and, although it is possible some irregularities may have occurred on the part of the troops, such scenes as were depicted by Cruikshank and Combe, one with his pencil, the other with his pen, were simply impossible.

The avowed object of Napoleon’s expedition was to punish the Beys, of whom there were twenty-four, who kept up a force of some eight thousand Mamelukes, splendid cavalry, recruited from slaves bought in Georgia, the Caucasus, and even in Europe. The pretence against them was injustice and oppression against French merchants; but the real reason for it is in the proclamation dated on board the ‘Orient,’ of 4th Messidor, year VI.: ‘Soldiers, you are about to undertake a conquest, the effects of which on civilisation and commerce are incalculable. The blow you are about to give to England, will be the best aimed, and the most sensibly felt, she can receive, until the time when you can give her her death blow.40 … The Destinies are with us. The Mameluke Beys who favour exclusively English commerce, whose extortions oppress our merchants, and who tyrannise over the unfortunate inhabitants of the Nile, a few days after our arrival will no longer exist.’

With what intensity Bonaparte hated England! For example, take this little extract from Madame Junot,41 to whose brother Napoleon was speaking: ‘“England!” he then rejoined. “So you think in Paris that we are going to attack it at last? The Parisians are not mistaken; it is indeed to humble that saucy nation that we are arming. England! If my voice has any influence, never shall England have an hour’s truce. Yes, yes, war with England for ever, until its utter destruction.”’

Alexandria was taken and garrisoned; but this was only the commencement of the campaign. Cairo must be reached speedily, and at all hazards. Then came that terrible march across the desert, from the 7th to the 10th of July – with generals all but mutinous, with Lannes and Murat dashing their cocked hats on the sands and trampling upon them in sight of the soldiers; the burning sun, the scarcity of water, harassed by enemies, human and insect – what joy could exceed theirs when they reached the Nile at Rahmanié! That wild rush into the water, without even thinking of the depth, and then the welcome shade and the juicy melons in such abundance; it must have been a glimpse of heaven to those poor half-maddened, half-starved soldiers.

After a brief rest they pushed on towards Cairo. On July 19 they sighted the pyramids; on the 21st they had to encounter Mourad Bey, who had a force of 8,000 Mamelukes, forty pieces of cannon, and 20,000 infantry Then was it that, pointing to those grand historical monuments, Napoleon addressed his soldiers with the ever-memorable and oft-quoted speech: ‘Soldiers! From the summit of those pyramids forty centuries look down upon you.’

We know the issue of that battle – how, out of 8,000 Mamelukes that proudly sat their steeds that morning, 6,000 bit the dust ere night. The French that day drank deep of blood, for 10,000 of the Egyptian troops lay dead on the field; they took 1,000 prisoners, and all their artillery and baggage. They could make no further stand, and the way to Cairo was open. A small force under Dupuy took possession of the city, which they found almost deserted, and on July 24, the Sultan Kebir, or King of Fire, as the natives had christened Napoleon, made his formal entry into Cairo. A brief rest to tranquillise the place and restore confidence to its returning inhabitants, and then, leaving Desaix in charge of the city, Napoleon went in pursuit of Ibrahim Bey, and drove him into Syria.

But what news was to welcome the conqueror back to Cairo? Sad indeed was the tale he heard – nought less than the destruction and capture of his whole fleet, save two ships, which effected their escape. Nelson had made up for lost time, and on August 1 he fought the ‘Battle of the Nile,’ when ‘L’Orient’ was blown up, and young Casabianca, the son of the captain of the ship, with it. We all know the poem by Mrs. Hemans commencing, ‘The boy stood on the burning deck.’

De Bourrienne does not disguise the effect this disaster had upon Napoleon. He says: ‘The catastrophe of Aboukir came like a thunderbolt upon the General-in-Chief. In spite of all his energy and fortitude, he was deeply distressed by the disasters which now assailed him. To the painful feelings excited by the complaints and dejection of his companion-in-arms, was now added the irreparable misfortune of the burning our fleet. He measured the fatal consequences of this event at a single glance. We were now cut off from all communication with France, and all hope of returning thither, except by a degrading capitulation with an implacable and hated enemy. Bonaparte had lost all chance of preserving his conquest, and to him this was indeed a bitter reflection.’

But with what different feelings was the news received in England! There was no steam, no electricity, then; men did not receive their news red-hot as we do now, but had to wait for it, more or less calmly, according to their temperament. Let us take this battle of the Nile as an example. It was fought on August 1. On September 1 the ‘True Briton’ (from which the following extracts are taken) gives its readers an ‘Extract from a letter from Strasbourg, of the 20th August,’ in which a circumstantial account of the total destruction and capture of the French fleet by that of England is given, together with a veracious statement that ‘the latter lost their Admiral Nelson, who, nevertheless, two hours before he died of his wounds, received General Buonaparte on board his ship (the ‘Culloden’) Prisoner, with all his General Staff.’ This correspondent’s veracity is only equalled by his impartiality.

On September 17 we hear of the sailing of the English fleet from Syracuse in quest of her enemy. On September 21 we have a quotation from the ‘Redacteur’ of September 14: ‘The same Letters inform us, that the Squadron of Admiral Brueys had anchored on the coast of Bignieres, and was preparing to return to France, when it was attacked by the English Squadron, which was superior to ours, both in the number and the size of the vessels; that on both sides the action was maintained with a degree of obstinacy, of which History affords no example; that during the action the Vessel of the French Admiral was burnt; that two or three French Ships sunk; and that some others, both French and English, ran aground after having lost all their Masts; and that, finally, some other French ships, quite disabled, remained on the spot where the Battle was fought.’

CHAPTER XI

It was not till October 2 that a glimmer of the truth, through rather a roundabout channel, appeared in the papers; and later on that day appeared a ‘London Gazette extraordinary,’ with Nelson’s despatches, which were very brief. Who can wonder at the excessive national rejoicing? People were drunk with joy. Take a few paragraphs from the ‘Times’ of October 3: —

‘Drury Lane. – After the play, the news of Admiral Nelson’s glorious victory produced a burst of patriotic exultation that has been rarely witnessed in a theatre. “Rule Britannia” was unanimously called for from every part of the house, and Messrs. Kelly, Dignum, Sedgewick, Miss Leak, and Mrs. Bland, came forward and sung it, accompanied by numbers of the audience. It was called for, and sung, a second time. The acclamations were the loudest and most fervent we have ever witnessed.

‘The following lines, written for the occasion, were introduced by Mr. Dignum and Mr. Sedgewick —

The audience were not satisfied with this repeated mark of exultation, but in the effusion of enthusiastic loyalty, called for “God save the King,” which was received with reiterated plaudits.’

‘Immediately that the news of the gallant victory obtained by Admiral Nelson was known at Lloyd’s, a subscription was opened for the relief of the widows and orphans of the brave men who perished in fighting for their country.’42

‘Every man in this country may address Admiral Nelson with Shakespeare,

The Capture of the French Fleet by Nelson, has reduced Buonaparte to the situation of Macbeth,

‘A person last night, in the gallery of Drury Lane house, calling frequently for the tune of Britons strike Home,43 was immediately silenced by the appropriate observation of another at some distance from him, “Why, damn it, they have – have not they?”’

‘An affray happened last night opposite to the Admiralty, where the crowd was very great. The mob, as usual, insisted on every person of genteel appearance pulling off their hats; six Officers passing along, were ordered to pay the same compliment to the mobility, and, refusing to do so, the populace attempted to force their hats off. The Officers drew their swords, and it was said that some persons were wounded.’

The next day’s ‘Times’ (October 4) says: ‘To shew the zeal for Illumination in honour of our late splendid Victory, a chaise last night passed through the town, in which were three Ladies, with large cockades in their head dresses. The inside of the chaise was lighted up; a postillion was on each horse with flambeaux in their hands, besides two outriders, also carrying flambeaux.’

‘It was remarked by a loyal Hibernian, on the official news of Admiral Nelson’s victory, that nothing on earth could resist us by sea.’

The mob after a day or two became so uproarious that the magistrates were compelled to order the cessation of the illuminations.

On October 3 the Court of Common Council met, two hundred strong, when the Lord Mayor read the subjoined letter from Nelson —

My Lord, – Having the honour of being a freeman of the City of London, I take the liberty of sending to your Lordship the sword of the commanding French admiral, Monsieur Blanquet, who survived after the battle of the 1st, off the Nile, and request that the City of London will honour me with the acceptance of it, as a remembrance that Britannia still rules the waves; which that she may for ever do, is the fervent prayer of

Right hon. the Lord Mayor of London.

Naturally, this gratifying memorial of this splendid victory was welcomed with enthusiasm, and orders were given to provide a suitable case, with inscription, for it; and the Council voted Nelson a sword, value 200 guineas; also the freedom of the City in a gold box, value 100 guineas, to Captain Berry, who was captain of the admiral’s flagship, the ‘Vanguard;’ and the thanks of the court to every one concerned.

The caricaturists soon pounced upon the subject, and the way in which the news of the victory was taken by different statesmen is very amusingly shown. (Gillray, October 3, 1798.) Burdett, who is always represented with his crop of hair combed over his eyes, is reading the ‘Extraordinary Gazette,’ and, in astonishment, exclaims, ‘Sure I cannot see clear?’ Jekyll is telling Lord Lansdowne how nine French ships of war were captured and two burnt; but his lordship claps his hands to his ears, and calls out, ‘I can’t hear, I can’t hear.’ The Duke of Bedford will not believe it, and is tearing up the notification of ‘the complete destruction of Buonaparte’s Fleet,’ exclaiming, ‘It’s all a damn’d Lye;’ whilst poor Erskine, with Republican briefs before him, drops the paper which tells him of the capture of Bonaparte’s despatches, and, with a smelling-bottle to his nose, plaintively calls out, ‘I shall faint, I, I, I.’ The poor Duke of Norfolk, whose many empty bottles of port testify to his inebriate condition, is very ill, and gives his opinion that ‘Nelson and the British Fleet’ is ‘a sickening toast.’ Tierney is in despair, and with the ‘End of the Irish Rebellion’ in his pocket, and on his knees a paper, ‘End of the French Navy. Britannia rules the Waves,’ calls out, with upturned eyes, ‘Ah! our hopes are all lost.’

Moodily, with his head resting on his hands, sits Sheridan, with a ‘List of the Republican Ships taken and destroyed’ before him, and his thoughts are of prudence, ‘I must lock up my Jaw.’ Black-visaged Fox, wearing a Cap of Liberty, has kicked over the stool that hitherto has supported him, and mournfully bidding ‘Farewell to the Whig Club,’ says, ‘and I – end with Éclat.’

This victory of the Nile is very graphically depicted (Gillray, October 6, 1798) in the ‘Extirpation of the Plagues of Egypt; – Destruction of Revolutionary Crocodiles; – or – The British Hero cleansing ye Mouth of ye Nile.’ Here Nelson has half-a-dozen crocodiles (typical of captured French ships) hooked and in his power, whilst, with a stout cudgel of ‘British Oak,’ he is spreading deadly blows and consternation into a quantity of tricoloured crocodiles. The blowing up of the ‘Orient’ is shown by one crocodile which is thus being destroyed.

Another caricature (October 7, 1798) of the victory of the Nile is ‘The Gallant Nellson bringing home two uncommon fierce French Crocodiles from the Nile as a present to the King.’ The one-armed hero is leading by a chain Fox and Sheridan, who have their jaws muzzled by rings, and Fox’s mouth is also secured by a padlock, ‘a mouthpiece for hypocrites.’ They are both weeping copiously, after the fabled manner of crocodiles. Nelson is saying, ‘Come along you Hypocritical dogs, I dare say your Dam’d sorry now for what you’ve done. No, no, I shall bring you to my Master;’ whilst John Bull, habited as a countryman, exclaims, ‘Aye, aye, what! Horatio has got ’em at last. Why, these be the Old Cock Deviles. I thought as how he would not go so far for nothing.’ This goes well with that of October 3.

A very curious caricature is (Ansell, October 24, 1798) Bonaparte in Egypt, ‘A terrible Turk preparing a Mummy for a present to the Grand Nation.’ A Turk, terrible indeed, has Napoleon by the throat, and, with sword in hand, is going to despatch him, saying, ‘As for you, you Dog of no Religion, I’ll sacrifice you at the tomb of the Prophet, whose name you have prophaned for the purposes of Murder, Rapine, and Plunder.’

Napoleon, whose defenceless state is typified by his swordless scabbard being broken, is endeavouring to mollify the wrath of the Turk. ‘Now, mild and gentle Sir, don’t be so rough: do you think I would cut your throat, ravish your wives, or plunder your house? No, by Mahomet I would not. Sacrè Dieu, I would not. Ah, Diable, you’ll choak me.’

Fox, Erskine, Sheridan, and the Duke of Norfolk are kneeling down, begging for Napoleon’s life, whilst a Turk, who exclaims, ‘You agree together so well, I think I’ll fix you together for life,’ has a bowstring ready to strangle all four. Pleads Fox, ‘Pray don’t hurt our dear friend, he would not hurt Man, Woman, or Child. He can’t bear the sight of blood; as for plunder or deception, he is the determined enemy to both, by – he is, and we are ready to swear it.’ Sheridan and Erskine say – the one, ‘d – n me if he ayn’t, and we are ready to swear it;’ the other, ‘I’ll swear it, I, I, I, swear it.’

‘John Bull taking a luncheon’ (Gillray, October 24, 1798) is an extremely graphic caricature, and introduces us to the popular idea of John Bull, who, certainly, is never represented in this period with any of the refinement that Leech, Doyle, Tenniel, or any of our modern caricaturists depict him; tastes and habits were coarser then than now, and John Bull was always shown in the rough. The second portion of the title of the picture helps us to realise the popular fancy, ‘or – British Cooks cramming old Grumble Gizzard with Bonne Chére.’ All his admirals and captains are bringing him food. Nelson presents him with a Fricasee à la Nelson, a huge dish of French ships; others are bearing dishes, such as Desert à la Warren, Fricando à la Howe, à la Gardner, à la Bridport, à la Vincent, Dutch Cheese à la Duncan.

John Bull is seated, devouring these viands, which are to be washed down with mighty draughts of True British Stout, exclaiming, ‘What! more Frigasees? why you sons o’ b – s, you, where do you think I shall find room to stow all you bring in?’ Fox and Sheridan are seen through an open window, running away, calling out, ‘Oh curse his Guts, he’ll take a chop at us next.’