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

CHAPTER LIII

This ends the caricatures for the year 1813, at the close of which Napoleon was in Paris. Wellington and Soult were fighting their prolonged duel in Spain, to the great advantage of the former. One after another did the French garrisons surrender, until, at the close of the year, Santona alone remained to the French. His troops, shut up in garrison in Germany and Prussia, were in very evil case, from hardships and sickness. St. Cyr abandoned Dresden, and all the garrison were made prisoners of war. Stettin surrendered, and the Dutch revolted; whilst at home the life-blood of the nation was being drained by a new conscription of 300,000 men, and the taxes were increased by one half.

And here, as well as at any other place, I may introduce Napoleon’s familiar spirit, ‘l’Homme Rouge.’ The belief in ‘the red man,’ in connection with the Emperor, was very widely spread; but details of his personal appearance, and the times of his visits, are rarely to be met with, and are invariably contradictory. Napoleon’s success had been so marvellous, that it is easily to be imagined it was popularly ascribed to supernatural agency.

In a small and very rare French book,34 is an account of ‘The little red and green men, or the genius of Evil triumphing over the genius of Good. Many persons, astonished at the success of Buonaparte in all which he undertook, asked by what tutelary divinity he was protected?

‘Some said, It is Europe which is being destroyed by itself, an effect natural to every country, over-populated, and too flourishing – Was it not thus with Egypt, Greece, Judea, and Rome? Others, less philosophic, but easier given to conjecture, said, When he was in Egypt he several times absented himself from his staff. – Somebody generally came to him before he fought a battle, or undertook any enterprise.

‘He frequently repeated, God has given me the strength and the will to overcome all obstacles. There was something supernatural … and thenceforth endless questions were asked of those who were with him in the Egyptian expedition. At length, by dint of research, a part of the truth was discovered, which is as follows: —

‘On the eve of the battle of the Pyramids, Buonaparte, at the council which was held in the morning, formally opposed the proposition to give battle. In the afternoon of that day, having gone, with some of the officers of his suite, to make a reconnaissance, and having approached one of the monuments of the pride of the Pharaohs,35 he suddenly saw, coming out from it, a little man clothed in a long red robe, his head being adorned with a pointed cap of the same colour, after the manner of the priests of Isis, or the Chaldean sages, known under the name of Magi. He carried a little ring in his hand.

‘This mysterious man only said these words to him: “Approach, young man, and learn the high destinies to which you are called, if you wish to be prudent and wise.”

‘Immediately, Buonaparte, as if he had been drawn by a supernatural force, descended from his horse, and followed him into the interior of the pyramid, where he remained more than an hour.

‘The officers of his suite, at first, paid little attention to this rencontre, taking the red man to be one of those charlatans, with which the world abounds, to the detriment of science and real knowledge; they were even astonished that their general, to whom they accorded so much merit, lost precious time in interviewing a wretched cheat; but, when they saw Buonaparte come out, all radiant with joy, saying to them, “Friends, let us give battle; we shall conquer!” and when they saw, that in spite of the inferiority of their forces, they should gain the most complete victory, they could only think of the red man. Is he a God? Is he a Genius? That was what they asked.

‘Thenceforth the French, in Egypt, only marched from victory to victory, until the departure of Napoleon for France.

‘We believe that all the deeds with which the red man has been credited are only fables which conjecturors have invented; but, at least, in him they discover the emblem of a good Genius, who pointed out to Buonaparte what he ought to do to assure at least the love and gratitude of the people. But an evil Genius, whom they suppose to have been clothed in green, appeared to him at St. Cloud, at the time of the 18th Brumaire, and gave him counsels, which prevailed, for the misfortune of the world, over those of the red man, and led him to his ruin.’

Balzac, in a delicious booklet,36 in which an old soldier gives the history of his beloved Emperor, makes him say, ‘There is one thing which it would be unjust, if I did not tell you: In Egypt, in the Desert, near Syria, The Red Man appeared to him, in the mountain of Moses, to tell him, “All went well.”

‘Then at Marengo, on the evening of the Victory, he saw, standing before him, the Red Man, who said to him:

‘“Thou shalt see the world at thy feet, and thou shalt be Emperor of the French, King of Italy, Master of Holland, Sovereign of Spain, Portugal, the Illyrian Provinces, Protector of Germany, Saviour of Poland, First Eagle of the Legion of Honour.”

‘This Red Man, do you see, was his idea, his own: a kind of lackey, who helped him, as many say, to communicate with his star. I, myself, have never believed that but the Red Man is a veritable fact, and Napoleon has spoken of him himself, and has said that he visits him in troublous moments, and that he stays at the palace of the Tuileries, in the upper apartments. Then at his Coronation, Napoleon saw him, in the evening, for the third time, and they were in deliberation about many things. Then the Emperor went straight to Milan to crown himself King of Italy…

‘At length we found ourselves, one morning, encamped at Moskowa.37 It was there that I gained the Cross, and I take the liberty of saying that it was a cursed battle! The Emperor was uneasy: he had seen the Red Man, who said to him:

‘“My child, thou art going too fast, men will fail thee, and friends will betray thee.”’

And the old soldier, almost at the end of his story, says, ‘The remainder is sufficiently well known. The Red Man passed over to the Bourbons, like a scoundrel, as he is. France is crushed,’ &c.

It is needless to say that this legend was known in England, and was not lost sight of by the satirist.

The English gave Napoleon the character of being very superstitious, and I believe, even now, ‘Napoleon’s Book of Fate,’ and ‘Napoleon’s Dream Book,’ are procurable.

In 1795 it is said that Napoleon paid a visit to a sorcerer named Pierre le Clerc, and expressed some doubt of his power. ‘You are wrong,’ said the magician, ‘to doubt my art. I know more than you probably imagine. There was a prophecy of a certain Count Cagliostro, uttered ten years ago, on the French Revolution, which was not then thought of. This announced that a Corsican voted or elected by the people, would finish it, probably by a Dictatorship.’ Napoleon left the old man, and, it is said, did not visit him again until the eve of the fateful 18th Brumaire.

The seer gave him a number of cards, on each of which he was to write one letter of the question he wanted to ask, which was: ‘What will become of the Corsican Napoleon Bonaparte, general, on account of the Coup d’Etat risked by him, at Paris, the 18th Brumaire, 1799?’ These cards were well mixed and handed to the conjurer, who, after some manipulation, settled on thirteen cards, having the letters B, O, P, P, I, A, I, B, I, P, A, U, F, each of which letters he interpreted as the commencement of a Latin word; and, on this basis, he constructed the following sentence: ‘Bis Oriens, Populi Princeps, In Altum Incedit; Bis Incidit; Per Anglos Ultima Fata,’ – or, He rises twice Prince of the People, and hovers over the heights; twice he falls; his last fatality will come from the English.

Napoleon then took fresh cards, and wrote: ‘Josephine Marie Rose de Tascher de la Pagerie, wife of the General Napoleon Bonaparte.’ Of these Pierre le Clerc selected three letters, H, E, A, which he interpreted as ‘Herois Extinctus Amor,’ – or, Love extinguishes itself in the heart of a hero.

There was a curious article in the ‘Frankfurter Journal’ of September 21, 1870, on the influence of the letter M on the life of Napoleon: ‘Marbeuf was the first to recognise the genius of Napoleon at the Military College. Marengo was the first great battle won by General Bonaparte, and Melas made room for him in Italy. Mortier was one of his best generals, Moreau betrayed him, and Marat was the first martyr to his cause. Maria Louisa shared his highest fortunes; Moscow was the abyss of ruin into which he fell. Metternich vanquished him in the field of diplomacy. Six marshals (Massena, Mortier, Marmont, Macdonald, Murat, Moncey) and twenty-six generals of division under Napoleon had the letter M for their initial. Marat, Duke of Bassano, was his most trusted counsellor. His first battle was that of Montenotte, his last Mont St. Jean, as the French term Waterloo. He won the battles of Millesimo, Mondovi, Montmirail, and Montereau; then came the storming of Montmartre. Milan was the first enemy’s capital, and Moscow the last, into which he entered victorious. He lost Egypt through Menou, and employed Miellis to take Pius VII. prisoner. Mallet conspired against him; Murat was the first to desert him, then Marmont. Three of his ministers were Maret, Montalivet, and Mallieu; his first chamberlain was Montesquieu. His last halting place in France was Malmaison. He surrendered to Captain Maitland of the Bellerophon, and his companions at St. Helena were Montholon and his valet Marchand.’

CHAPTER LIV

On January 1, 1814, Rowlandson published ‘The double humbug, or the Devil’s Imp praying for peace,’ a picture in two parts. One represents Napoleon addressing the Senate from his throne, which stands on divers crowns: his friend, the Devil, being perched a-top. A soporific effect among his audience seems to be the outcome of his address, which is as follows: ‘Extracts of Bonyparty’s Speech, Sunday, 19 December, 1813. Senators, Counsellors of State, Deputies from the Department to the Legislative Body. Splendid Victories have raised the Glory of the French Arms, during the Campaign. In these weighty circumstances, it was my first thought to call you around me. I have never been seduced by prosperity. I have conceived and executed great designs for the Prosperity and the happiness of the world, as a monarch and a father. I feel that Peace adds to the security of Thrones and that of Families. I have accepted proposals, and the preliminaries. It is necessary to recruit my armies by numerous Levies, and an increase of Taxes becomes indispensable – I am satisfied with the sentiment of my people of Italy, Denmark, Naples, America, and the nineteen Swiss cantons; and have acknowledged the laws which England has, in vain, sought, during four centuries, to impose on France – I have ordered discharges of Artillery on my coming and leaving you.’

The other portion of the picture shows the powers of Europe, before whom Napoleon kneels, surrendering colours and crowns; all, save one of the latter (the French crown), and this he tucks under his arm. His deportment is abject, as is his speech: ‘Gentlemen, Emperors, Kings, Rhenish Confederations, &c., &c., &c. Behold unto you a fallen Impostor, who has for many years been drunk, and intoxicated, with Ambition, Arrogance, and Insolence, who has foolishly and wickedly lost within a twelve Months, a Million of brave but deluded Frenchmen. Who has conceived the great and diabolical design of enslaving the world, and has lost all his friends except Yankee Maddison. Now, Gentlemen, to make amends for my sins, I solicit your pardon, and ask for Peace, on your own Terms, Gentlemen, and I will strictly adhere to all ******** You may take all those Crowns back again, except the one belonging to the Bourbons. My Empress sends you also back the 20 flags I found in some of the Churches, in the course of my flight from Leipsig. As for the story, Gentlemen, of the Corporal and the blowing up the bridge, you must know ’twas a mere Humbug to gull the Lads of Paris.’ Talleyrand also assures the crowned heads, that ‘What my Master has said is true, so help me G – d. Amen.’

On January 21, 1814, Napoleon once more set out from Paris at the head of an army, and in this month he fought at Saint-Dizier, Brienne, Champ-Aubert, Montmirail, Chateau-Thierry-Nangis, and Montereau, but then the French arms were almost everywhere defeated. People could discern the beginning of the end. Meanwhile the caricaturist was busy.

‘The Devil’s Darling’ is another by Rowlandson (March 12, 1814); but it possesses no merit, except the very excellent likeness of Napoleon. He is in swaddling clothes, and being dandled by the arch-fiend.

Wm. Elmes (the ‘W. E.’ of occasional caricatures) drew (March 21, 1814) ‘John Bull bringing Boney’s nose to the Grindstone’; but it is not a new subject, as there is a contemporary caricature of the Scots bringing Charles the Second’s nose to the grindstone. Russia is turning the stone – the allied Powers looking on – and John Bull, who is performing the operation, says: ‘Aye, Aye, Master Boney, I thought I should bring you to it one of these days. You have carried on the trade of grinding long enough, to the annoyance of your oppressed neighbours – One good turn deserves another – Give him a Turn brother Alexander – and let us see how he likes a taste.’

‘The Allied Bakers, or the Corsican Toad in the hole’ (April 1, 1814), is taken bodily from a French caricature, ‘Le Tour des Alliés, ou le Corse près à être cuit,’ although it bears on it ‘G. H. invt Cruickshank fecit.’ The King of Prussia, Woronzow, and Blücher have a baker’s peel, on which is a dish containing Boney, screaming, ‘Murder, Murder,’ as he is being put into the Allied Oven. Holland sits on the floor blowing the fire. A Frenchman, whose fickleness is shown by the weather-cock on his hat, is opening the oven door for his former master’s destruction, saying: ‘This door sticks! I don’t think I shall get it open!’ Blücher shouts, ‘Pull away Frank,38 you keep us waiting.’ Woronzow says, ‘In with it, Blucher,’ and the King of Prussia’s opinion is, ‘I tell you what, Woronzow, the Hinges want a little Russia Oil.’ Wellington, who is bearing a tray on which is a Soult pie and a Bordeaux pie, shouts out, ‘Shove altogether, Gentlemen! D – n me, shove door and all in.’

Meanwhile, the allied Austrian, Russian, and Prussian troops had marched on to Paris, and, having defeated Marmont, March 30, 1814, the city was virtually at their mercy. Maria Louisa and the young King of Rome left Paris on March 29, and on the 31st the city capitulated, and the Emperor of Russia and the King of Prussia entered the city with the allied armies. The Emperor of Austria did not join them, probably out of deference to his paternal feelings. The ‘Times’ of April 6, 1814, thus gives the news of the capitulation: – ‘Babylon the great is fallen! Paris, the proud city, the city of philosophy, has bowed her neck to the Conqueror.’

‘Boney forsaken by his Guardian Angel’ (April 3, 1814) shows the Emperor kneeling, one crown already having been taken from him by the arch-fiend, who now is taking another from off his head. The flames of hell are prominent in the distance. Bonaparte implores – ‘My Guardian Angel, my Protector, do not desert me in the hour of Danger.’ But the Devil, exultant, says, ‘Poh! Poh! you cannot expect to reign for ever; besides I want you at home, to teach some of the young Imps wickedness.’

On April 3 the fickle French destroyed their idol, for the Provisional Government declared Napoleon deposed, and his dynasty abolished.

On April 5 Bonaparte formally abdicated the throne of France; and, when we consider how long he had troubled the peace of this country, we can pardon the almost brutal exultation of the ‘Times’ of April 11: —

‘The most hateful of Tyrants has finished by proving himself the most infamous of cowards.

‘Two Extraordinary Gazettes were published on Saturday; the latter of which contained Buonaparte’s renunciation of sovereignty, in the following terms: —

The Allied Powers having proclaimed that the Emperor Napoleon was the only obstacle to the re-establishment of the peace of Europe, the Emperor Napoleon, faithful to his oath, declares that he renounces for himself and his heirs, the Thrones of France and Italy; and that there is no personal sacrifice, even that of his life, which he is not ready to make in the interest of France.

‘Thus has the last act of this wretch’s public life been marked by the same loathsome hypocrisy which characterised him throughout his guilty career. When he has been solemnly deposed by his own confederates; when the execrations of all France, and of all Europe, are ringing in his ears; when his last army is deserting him by thousands, and an overwhelming force of the Allies is approaching, to drag him to a shameful death, if he refuses the proffer’d mercy – then, forsooth, his forced submission is a voluntary sacrifice, he is actuated by a principle of public spirit, he feels a religious regard for his oath!!!

‘We did not think to have troubled our heads what should become of him, or his worthless carcase – whether he should crawl about upon the face of that earth, which he had so long desolated; or end a miserable existence by his own desperate hand; or be helped out of the world by the guillotine, the halter, or the coup de grâce. Certainly, if we had to choose the finest moral lesson for after ages, we could not have preferred any to that, which should at once expose the selfishness, the baseness, and the cowardice of a vainglorious mortal, whom adulation has raised almost to divine honours. And, as to any danger from his life – why, Jerry Sneak was a hero to him. Twice before, had he run away from the field of battle – but that, in the opinions of his besotted admirers, was profound imperial policy.

‘When he first attempted to act Cromwell, unlike the tough old Puritan, he had nearly fainted; but this was a transient qualm, that “overcame him like a summer’s cloud;” and, besides,

‘The abandonment of his throne was an act of undisguised, deliberate cowardice, not altogether unanticipated by us; for it will be remembered that some months ago, in comparing the terms offered to him by the Allies, with Fluellen’s offer of the leek to ancient Pistol, we said, that though he might vow “most horrible revenge,” he would eat the leek. We had not then any reason to believe that he would be required to yield up crown and all; but now that circumstances have led to such a point, his conduct in respect to it occasions us no surprise. That which displeases us, however, is, that in the very document which ought to have contained nothing more than his subscription to his own disgrace, he has been allowed to lay claim to something like honour – to shuffle in a lying pretence to virtue. This was not a time to indulge his vanity. The record of his punishment ought rather to have referred to real crimes than to fictitious merits.’

The illuminations on this occasion were very splendid – but perhaps the best of them all, as illustrating the popular feeling, was one which was simply ‘Thank God.’

The following caricature must have been published before the news of the abdication reached England.

‘Blücher the Brave extracting the groan of abdication from the Corsican Bloodhound’ is by Rowlandson (April 9, 1814). The Prussian general having stripped Bonaparte of his crown and uniform, &c., is administering to him a sound shaking, whilst Louis the Eighteenth is being welcomed by Talleyrand and the whole French nation.

‘The Corsican Shuttlecock, or a pretty Plaything for the Allies’ (April 10, 1814), is by G. Cruikshank. Napoleon is the shuttlecock, which is kept in the air by Schwartzenberg and Blücher. The former has just sent him to his comrade with – ‘There he goes!! why Blücher! this used to be rather a weighty plaything; but d – me if it isn’t as light as a feather now.’ Blücher replies, ‘Bravo Schwartzenberg, keep the game alive! send him this way, and d – him, I’ll drive him back again.’