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

CHAPTER XXVII

PATRIOTIC HANDBILLS

On June 10, 1803, Gillray published an extra-sized picture of ‘French Invasion – or Buonaparte Landing in Great Britain.’ The French fleet is nearing land, and boats, full of armed men, are putting off. Bonaparte, and a large body of troops, including cavalry, have landed; but, before they can scale the cliffs, and are yet on the shore, a few artillerymen, with two guns, have utterly routed them. It is Sauve qui peut. Napoleon, joining in the flight, throws away his sword; the army is utterly demoralised, the ground being strewn with dead.

I. Cruikshank drew a not very interesting caricature, (June 10, 1803) of ‘The Scarecrow’s arrival, or Honest Pat giving them an Irish Welcome.’ Napoleon, as a skeleton, is leading an army of skeletons, who are wading through the sea. He is just putting his foot on the shore, and, to encourage his troops, calls out, ‘Now, my boys, halloo away – vil frighten Mr. Bull out of his wits, we vil make them quake like the Dutch, the Italian, the Swiss, and the rest of our Friends.’ But a sturdy Irishman receives them with a shovelfull of mud in their faces. ‘Och it is your own pratty figure it is, Master Bonny, d’ye think that Pat was to be blarney’d by such Scare Crows. No, no, Bother, the time is gone by: Pat’s Eyes are wide open, and, look ye, if you don’t immediately jump into the Sea to save your lives, I will shovel you all there to save mine.’

Here is a stirring appeal to the army: —

BRAVE SOLDIERS

Defenders of your Country

The road to glory is open before you. – Pursue the great career of your forefathers, and rival them in the field of honour. A proud and usurping Tyrant (a name ever execrated by Englishmen) dares to threaten our shores with Invasion, and to reduce the free born Sons of Britain to Slavery and Servitude. Forgetting what English Soldiers are capable of, and ranking them with the hirelings of the powers who have fallen his prey on the Continent, he supposes his threat easily executed. Give him a lesson, my brave Countrymen, that he will not easily forget, and that France may have by heart, for a Century to come! Neither the vaunting Hero (who deserted his own Comrades and Soldiers in Egypt), nor the French Army, have ever been able to cope with British valour when fairly opposed to it. Our Ancestors declared that One Englishman was ever a match for Three Frenchmen – and that man to man was too great odds in our favour. We have but to feel their sentiments, to confirm them – you will find that their declaration was founded on experience; and that even in our day, within these three years, an army of your brave Comrades has convinced its admiring Country, that the balance is still as great as ever, against the enemy. Our Edward, the illustrious Black Prince, laid waste the country of France, to the Gates of Paris, and, on the Plains of Cressy, left 11 Princes and 30,000 men dead upon the Field of Battle – a greater number than the whole English Army boasted at the beginning of the action. The same heroic Prince, having annihilated the Fleet of France, entirely routed her Army at Poictiers, took her King prisoner, and brought him Captive to London, with thousands of his Nobles and People, and all this against an Army six times as numerous as that of the English! Did not our Harry the Fifth invade France, and at Agincourt oppose an Army of 9,000 men, sickly, fatigued, and half starved, to that of the French, amounting to 50,000; and did he not leave 10,000 of the enemy dead upon the field, and take 14,000 prisoners, with the loss of only 400 men?

Have we not, within this century, to boast a Marlborough, who, (besides his other victories) at Blenheim slew 12,000 of the French, and made 14,000 Prisoners, and in less than a month conquered 300 miles of Territory from the Enemy? Did not the gallant Wolfe, in the year 1759, gain the Heights of Abraham with a handful of British Troops, and, afterwards, defeat the whole French Army, and gain possession of all Canada, &c.?

And are not the glories of our Abercromby and the Gallant Army of Egypt fresh in your minds? An Army of 14,000 Britons, who landed in the face of upwards of 20,000 troops of France, and drove from a country, with whose strongholds they were acquainted, and whose resources they knew how to apply, a host of Frenchmen, enured to the Climate, and Veterans in arms? Did they not cut in pieces that vaunted Corps of Buonaparte’s, whose successes against other Powers had obtained for it the appellation of Invincible – And is not their Standard (all that is left of it) a trophy, at this moment, in our Capital?

The Briton fights for his Liberty and Rights, the Frenchman fights for Buonaparte, who has robbed him of both! Which, then, in the nature of events, will be most zealous, most active, and most terrible in the Field of Battle? the independent supporter of his country’s cause, or the Slave who trembles lest the arms of his comrades should be turned against himself; who knows that his Leader, his General, his Tyrant, did not hesitate, after having Murdered 4,000 disarmed Turks, in cool blood, to Poison 300 of his own sick Soldiers, of men who had been fighting his battles of ambition, and been wounded in his defence– English Soldiers will scarcely credit this, but it is on record, not to be doubted, never to be expunged. But more; read and blush for the depravity even of an enemy. It is not that these bloody deeds have been perpetrated from necessity, from circumstances however imperious at the moment; they were the acts of cool and deliberate determination, and his purpose, no less sanguinary, is again declared in the event of success in his enterprise against this Country. Feeling that even the slavish followers of his fortune were not to be forced to embark in this ruinous and destructive expedition, he declares to them, in a public proclamation, or decoy, that when they have landed in this Country, in order to make the booty the richer, No Quarter shall be given to the Base English who fight for their perfidious Government – that they shall be Put to the Sword, and their Property distributed among the Soldiers of the Victorious Army!!! Say, is this the conduct of a Hero? is this the man who is destined to break the spirit of Englishmen? shall we suffer an Assassin to enter our blessed Country, and despoil our fields of their produce – to massacre our brave Soldiers in cool blood, and hang up every man who has carried arms? Your cry is vengeance for the insult – and Vengeance is in your own hands. It must be signal and terrible! Like the bolt from Heaven, let it strike the devoted Army of Invaders! Every Frenchman will find his Grave where he first steps on British ground, and not a Soldier of Buonaparte’s boasted Legions shall escape the fate his ambitious Tyrant has prepared for him!

BRITONS STRIKE HOME!

Or your Fame is for ever blasted, – Your Liberties for ever lost!!!

This is very bombastic and ‘high-falutin,’ but Englishmen were in a very grievous fright, nevertheless.

Still harping on the prospect of a French landing, we have a caricature by T. West (June 13, 1803) of ‘Britannia correcting an Unruly Boy.’ Britannia has got Boney across her knee, and, having taken down his breeches, is administering such a sound castigation with a birch rod, called the United Kingdom, as to bring forth copious streams of blood. Needless to say, our hero is repentant, and prays ‘Oh forgive me this time and I never will do so again. Oh dear! Oh dear! you’ll entirely destroy the Honors of the Sitting.’ But the stern matron still keeps on, with ‘There take that, and that, and that, and be more careful not to provoke my anger more.’

We have an illustration of the homely proverb of ‘Set a beggar on horseback &c.,’ in ‘The Corsican Beggar Riding to the Devil,’ by Ansell (June 15, 1803). Here we have Hell treated in the mediæval manner, a huge, grotesque, dragon-like head, with outstretched jaws, vomiting flames. Napoleon, on a white charger, hugging himself with the idea that ‘Sure they will make me Emperor,’ is riding straight to it; whilst two devils are in a high state of jubilation.’ One opines that ‘He is sure to come; we will finish your ambition,’ the other politely calls out, ‘Shew him in.’ Ireland asks John Bull, ‘Hey Johnny, who’s that?’ and gets as a reply, ’Tis Boney going Post, brother Pat.’ The Gallic Cock, crowing on its dunghill, screams, ‘This is nothing new.’

Here is a passionate appeal, supposed to come from one of the softer sex: —

MEN OF ENGLAND

It is said that some of you are so discontented, that you would join the Enemies against your Country – Is it possible that you are so misled as to believe that the Enemies to England would, whatever they pretend, be friends to you. Be assured, if you are so persuaded, that you are grossly imposed upon. What should make them your friends – What ties should bind them? Think a little – and a very little proper reflection will be sufficient to make you see, that the Invaders of your Country, in their hearts, hate the inhabitants of it; and will, in the end, themselves betray the Traitors to it.

The Invaders would nearly desolate your Country – and if Provisions are dear now, what would they be when numberless stacks of hay and corn were burnt – the cattle destroyed, and a horrid legion of desperate, faithless, lawless Invaders, to be maintained? who would trample upon every tie, break all promises, make tools of you first, but soon sacrifice your wives, your daughters, your families, and yourselves, when you have served their purpose. If any few among you were guilty of plunder, you would, yourselves, soon be plundered and destroyed.

 

It has been the necessity of defending our country against its enemies that has made provisions dear; but your wages have been increased in proportion – and though you may sometimes, in the course of events, suffer some hardships, as everybody, in their turn, must do, you may, unless it be your own faults, enjoy the greatest comforts – a peaceable home – a happy family – a quiet country, whose trade and consequence is envied by all the world – plentiful harvests – a government which respects you, and that your forefathers would have defended with the last drop of their blood – you have an excellent and lawful King, who will protect you; and above all, you may have a blessing from God, who will reward you hereafter if you do your duty here. But from an Usurper, and Invader, you can have nothing to expect, but the being slaves to his lawless schemes for power. Let who will tell you the contrary, he comes only for plunder, and revenge, upon the only nation he fears. Will you be his instruments, his tools? Can you, as Englishmen, lower yourselves in such a manner – to such a mean Usurper? Heaven, from the beginning, intended you should have Kings and superiors – Equality was never intended – it never can be, on this earth – Heaven and reason forbid it – and Bonaparte, himself, has shewn you how little he intended to establish it. Your forefathers call to you from their graves – their warning voice tells you, that you would soon find the perfidy of his heart. The wretched condition you would bring yourselves and your families into, you would repent too late – deprived of every friend, but sure of ample punishment here, and hereafter.

People of England! Sons of my beloved glorious Country! You are now called upon by the women of your Country to protect them – Can you refuse to hear us? Can you bear the thought of not only seeing us used with insult and barbarity, – of seeing your country bleed at every pore, but of being the occasion of these dreadful evils, in consequence of your mistaken opinions, and by suffering yourselves to be deceived, and cajoled, by foreign, ill designing wretches, who have only our, and your, ruin at heart.

Attend, Men of England, – you who may give conquest to your Country, safety to us, and everlasting glory to yourselves – Attend, Men of England, to the solemn truths told you by an honest

Englishwoman.

It is a weak spot in these lucubrations that very few of them are dated, so that it is impossible to arrange them, like the illustrations, in chronological sequence. But this is of little matter; the situation was the same, whatever might be the month.

J. Smith (June 25, 1803) etched King George ‘Playing at Bubbles.’ The monarch is seated before a large tub of soap-suds, amusing himself by blowing bubbles, which are Napoleon, flat-bottomed boats, invasion, and little ships– and, judging by the king’s placid countenance, caring very little for his creations.

A very excellent example of caricature is Gillray’s ‘King of Brobdingnag and Gulliver’ (June 26, 1803). The burly king has the diminutive Bonaparte in the palm of his hand and is critically examining him through his glass. Says he, ‘My little friend Grildrig you have made a most admirable panegyric upon yourself and country, but from what I can gather from your own relation, and the answers I have with much pains wring’d and extorted from you, I cannot but conclude you to be one of the most pernicious little odious reptiles that nature ever suffered to crawl upon the surface of the Earth.’

And, indeed, he well deserved this character, if he were anything like the demon the English sought to make him out. In one of the handbills, however, is a quotation from ‘Denon’s Travels in Egypt,’ which is wrested to serve its purpose in fomenting the Invasion furor.

To the infamous Wretch, if there be such an one in England, who dares to talk of, or even hopes to find Mercy in the Breast of the Corsican Bonaparte, the eternal sworn Foe of England, the Conqueror and Grand Subjugator of France.

If there be any Englishmen so base, or so foolish, as to wish to trust to the Mercy of a French Invading Army, let him read that which follows: – The accuracy and veracity of the account cannot be doubted, it being an Extract from a Book, not only written under the inspection of the French Government, but, moreover, dedicated to the Grand Consul.

I shall make no comment on this most scandalous public avowal, or rather, boast, of so inhuman and atrocious a proceeding, as the simple Fact sufficiently speaks for itself.

‘We, who boasted that we were more just than the Mamelukes, committed daily, and almost necessarily, a number of iniquities: the difficulty of distinguishing our Enemies by their Form and Colour, made us, every day, kill innocent Peasants; the Soldiers took Caravans of poor Merchants for enemies, and, before justice could be done them, (when there was time to do it) two or three of them were shot, a part of their cargo was pillaged or destroyed, and their camels exchanged for those of ours, which had been wounded. The Fate of the People, for whose happiness we no doubt came to Egypt, was no better. If, at our approach, terror made them leave their houses, they found on their return, nothing but the Mud of which the Walls were composed; utensils, ploughs, gates, roofs, everything served as fuel to boil our Soup; their pots were broken, their grain was eaten, their fowls and pigeons roasted, and nothing was left but the carcases of their dogs, when they defended the Property of their Masters. If we remained in their Villages, the wretches were summoned to return, under pain of being treated as Rebels, and, in consequence, double Taxed; and when they yielded to these Menaces, came to pay their Tax, it sometimes happened, that, from their great number, they were taken for a body of Revolters, their sticks for arms, and they received some discharges of Musketry before there was time for explaining the Mistake; the Dead were interred, and we remained friends, till a safe opportunity for revenge occurred. It is true, that when they staid at home, paid the Tax, and supplied all the Wants of the Army, they were saved the trouble of a Journey to a Residence in the Desert, saw their Provisions consumed with regularity, and were allowed a Part of them, preserved some of their gates, sold their eggs to the Soldiers, and had but few of their Wives and Daughters Violated!’

Such was the Treatment which Egypt experienced; a Country which the French were desirous to possess, and to conciliate; very Different is their Design upon Great Britain, which it is their avowed Intention to Ravage, Plunder and Destroy.

CHAPTER XXVIII

ATTEMPT AT MEDIATION BY RUSSIA – MARTIAL ENTHUSIASM IN ENGLAND – ENROLMENT OF VOLUNTEERS – PATRIOTIC HANDBILLS AND SONGS

Ineffectual attempts at mediation seem to have been made, but, situated as the two opposing Powers were, this could not be.

‘Bruin become mediator’ (artist unknown, June 1803) represents the Emperor of Russia as a bear, joining the hands of a Bull and a Monkey. The peacemaker thus addresses them, ‘I wonder you civilized folks could not agree upon matters without reference to me, whom you have ridiculed as a Barbarian – but I suppose you think I must have more sense than yourselves, because I come further North.’ The Monkey is giving his hand with ‘I promise on the faith of a Frenchman (which is as any Birmingham Sixpence) to let you graze quietly in the Malta Paddock – and to love you with all my heart, as much as I do the Liberty of the French Nation.’ The Bull says, ‘Well Nappy, if you will leave off your Pranks and not think of skipping over to Egypt, and if you will promise not to hop the twig to Hanover, I will be reconciled.’

And again, a month later, is another caricature, called ‘Olympic Games, or John Bull introducing his new Ambassador to the Grand Consul,’ by I. Cruikshank (July 16, 1803), shewing us the little Corsican giving an ambassador a blow in the face with his clenched fist, saying, ‘There Sir, take that, and tell your master, I’ll thrash every one who dares to speak to me: I’ll thrash all the World. D – me I’ll, I’ll, I’ll, be King of the Universe.’ The astonished Ambassador exclaims, ‘Why this is Club Law! this is the Argument of force indeed. The little Gentleman is Derangé.’ John Bull, however, is introducing a prize-fighter as his representative, telling Napoleon, ‘There, my Boy, is an Ambassador who will treat with you in your own way – but I say, be as gentle with him as you can.’ The pugilist looks on his adversary with contempt, ‘What! is it that little whipper snapper I am to set to with? Why I think the first round will settle his hash.’ The Austrian ambassador meanwhile remarks, ‘The Monarch I represent, will return this insult with becoming Dignity.’

Martial enthusiasm was at its height, corps of volunteers were enrolled everywhere. The militia, 80,000 strong, had been called out on March 25; there was the regular army of 130,000, and, on June 28, the House of Commons agreed to the raising of 50,000 more, by means of conscription – of which England was to furnish 34,000, Ireland 10,000, and Scotland 6,000; whilst, on June 30, the Court of Common Council for the City of London resolved to raise, and equip, 800 men for the national service. This, be it remembered, only represented that portion of London within the city walls. Factions were for a time done away with, and men, of all shades of politics, stood shoulder by shoulder, as now, in the ranks of the different volunteer corps. Stirring broadsides were not needed, although they appeared, and the following may be taken as a good sample: —

ENGLISH MASTIFFS

We by this Address, publicly and solemnly, before God and our Country, pledge our Fortunes, Persons, and Lives, in the Defence of our Sovereign, and all the Blessings of our glorious Constitution.

There is not a Man that hears me, I am persuaded, who is not prompt and eager to redeem that pledge. There is not, there cannot be a Man here, who would leave undefended, our good, tried, and brave Old King in the Hour of Danger.

No, Sir! we need now no Warning-voice; no string of Eloquence; no Thoughts that heat, and Words that burn, are necessary to raise a Host of hardy Men, when the King, the Parliament, and the Country are in Distress.⁷⁴ Call out to Yorkshiremen, ‘Come forth to battle!’ our Answer will be – One and All – ‘We are ready! —There is the Enemy!– Lead on!’ Sir, that Enemy is not far off; a very numerous, well appointed, ably commanded Army, to whom is promised the Plunder of England, are now hovering round, and Part of them in daily Sight of the Promised Land. They view it, like so many famished Wolves, Cruel as Death, and Hungry as the Grave, panting for an Opportunity, at any Risk, to come into our Sheep Fold; —but, and if they should, is it not our Business, our first Duty, to have such a Guard of old, faithful English Mastiffs, of the old Breed, as shall make them quickly repent their temerity.

The Chief Consul of France tells us, that we are but a Nation of Shopkeepers: let us, Shopkeepers, then melt our Weights, and our Scales, and return him the Compliment in Bullets. Sir; we may have a firm Reliance on the Exertions of as gallant a Fleet as ever sailed; but the Fleet cannot perform Impossibilities; it cannot be in two places at once; it cannot conquer the Winds, and subdue the Storms. Though our old Tars can do much, they cannot do everything; and it would be unsafe and dastardly to lie skulking behind them. With the Blessing of God, and a good Cause, we can do Wonders; but if we depend upon our Naval Prowess only, we have much to fear. NO, Sir: England will never be perfectly safe, until she can defend herself as well by Land, as by Sea; until she can defy the haughty Foe: if there was even a Bridge between Calais and Dover, and that Bridge in Possession of the Enemy, still can she say, in the Language of a good English Boxing Match, ‘A fair Field and no Favour.’

 

‘Our good, tried, and brave Old King, in the Hour of Danger,’ had made all snug, at least as far as human foresight could act. When the dreaded invasion came, he was to go either to Chelmsford or Dartford; whilst the Queen, with the Royal Family and the treasure, were to go to Worcester, the city whose motto is ‘Civitas in bello, et in pace, fidelis.’ All the stores at Woolwich, including the artillery, were to be sent into the Midlands by means of the Grand Junction Canal; in fact, every precaution was taken that forethought could devise: and there is but little doubt that, had Napoleon made good a landing, he would have had a warmer reception than he expected. Yet what disadvantages they laboured under compared to our days! no Telegraphs, no Railways, no Steam. Of course it may be said that the enemy was in no better position; but still a lucky wind might favour their crossing, and hinder our preventing it.

Loyal and patriotic poetry abounded; here is a specimen: —

THE VOICE OF THE BRITISH ISLES

Tune – ‘Hearts of Oak.’

 
Away, my brave boys, haste away to the shore;
Our foes, the base French, boast they’re straight coming o’er,
To murder, and plunder, and ravish, and burn —
Let them come – we’ll take care they shall never return;
For around all our shores, hark! the notes loudly ring,
United, we’re ready,
Steady, boys, steady,
To fight for our Liberty, Laws, and our King.
 
 
They boast in the dark they will give us the slip:
The attempt may procure them a dangerous dip;
Our bold Tars are watching in Ocean’s green lap,
To give them a long Jacobinical nap.⁷⁵
But should they steal over, with one voice we’ll sing,
United, we’re ready, &c.
 
 
They knew, that united, we sons of the waves
Would ne’er bow to Frenchmen, nor grovel like Slaves;
So ere they dare venture to touch on our strand,
They sent black Sedition to poison our land.
But around all our shores let the notes loudly ring,
United, we’re ready, &c.
 
 
They swore we were slaves, all lost and undone;
That a Jacobine nostrum, as sure as a gun,
Would make us all equal, and happy, and free;
’Twas only to dance round their Liberty’s tree.
No, no! round our shores let the notes loudly ring,
United, we’re ready, &c.
 
 
’Twas only to grant them the kiss call’d fraternal —
A kiss which all Europe has found most infernal;
And then they maintained the effect could not miss —
We should all be as blest as the Dutch and the Swiss.
No, no! round our shores let the notes loudly ring,
United, we’re ready, &c.
 
 
With lies, and with many a Gallican wile,
They spread their dread poison o’er Erin’s green Isle;
But now each shillalah is ready to thwack,
And baste the lean ribs of the Gallican Quack.
All around Erin’s shores, hark! the notes loudly ring,
United, we’re ready, &c.
Stout Sandy, our brother, with heart, and with hand,
And his well-try’d Glaymore, joins the patriot band.
Now Jack, Pat, and Sandy thus cordial agree,
We sons of the wave shall for ever be free.
While around all our shores, hark! the notes loudly ring,
United, we’re ready, &c.
 
 
As they could not deceive, now they threaten to pour
Their hosts on our land, to lay waste and devour;
To drench our fair fields, and our cities in gore,
Nor cease to destroy till Britannia’s no more.
Let them come if they dare – hark! the notes loudly ring,
United, we’re ready, &c.
 
 
My sweet rosy Nan is a true British wife,
And loves her dear Jack, as she loves her own life;
Yet she girds on my sword, and smiles while I glow,
To meet the proud French, and to lay their heads low,
And chants ’tween each buss, while the notes loudly ring,
My Jack, art thou ready?
Steady, boy, steady,
Go fight for thy Liberty, Laws, and thy King.
 
 
And Ned, my brave Lad, with a true British heart,
Has forsaken his plough, has forsaken his cart;
E’en Dolly has quitted, to dig in a trench,
All, all, for the sake of a cut at the French;
While he sings all day long, let the notes loudly ring,
I’m ready, I’m ready!
Steady, boy, steady,
To fight for my Liberty, Laws, and my King.
 
 
Away then, my boys! haste away to the shore,
Our foes, the base French, boast they’re straight coming o’er,
To murder, and plunder, and ravish, and burn —
They may come, – but, by Jove, they shall never return;
For around all our shores, hark! the notes loudly ring,
United, we’re ready,
Steady, boys, steady,
To fight for our Liberty, Laws, and our King.
 

‘The Final Pacification of Europe’ (artist unknown, June 1803) shews that this desirable thing could only be accomplished by the death of Napoleon – so he is represented as being suspended from a gallows, whilst postboys, duly equipped with horns, and dressed in their different national garbs, are shouting, ‘Good News for Russia, Prussia, Old England, Germany, and Switzerland.’ Holland is excessively joyful: Mynheer calling out, ‘Good news for Holland, ti-lol-de-riddle-lol.’

A very amusing caricature is ‘Green Spectacles, or Consular Goggles’ (artist unknown, June 1803), where Napoleon is represented as sitting on a rock called Usurped Power, and wearing an enormous pair of green goggles labelled ‘Green eyed Jealousy,’ through which he darts envious glances at Great Britain, West Indies, East Indies, Malta, and Egypt.