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

CHAPTER XLV

FRENCH ENTRY INTO PORTUGAL – BLOCKADE OF ENGLAND – FLIGHT OF THE PORTUGUESE ROYAL FAMILY – THE PENINSULAR WAR – FLIGHT OF KING JOSEPH

On October 18 or 19 Junot entered Portugal, and then it was that John Bull began to fear for his stock of port wine. This is very amusingly put in a picture: ‘In Port, and Out of Port, or news from Portugal,’ which is the title of a caricature by Woodward (November 10, 1807), and it represents Bonaparte seated on a pipe of ‘Genuine Old Port.’ With folded arms he thus speaks: ‘Now Master Jean Bull – more news for you. You’ll soon be out of Port.’ A miserable-looking ‘Portugee’ approaches John Bull, with cap in hand, saying: ‘I be, d’ye see, de poor Portuguese. Vat he mean be de Port Wine; which he will be glad to change for your bag of guineas dere – begar – but dat is mine – between ourselves.’ John Bull, who is sitting down, smoking, with a jug of ale and a huge bagful of guineas by his side, replies: ‘D – n him, and his Port too – I am snug in Port, and while I have the port holes of my wooden walls, and a glass of home brew’d ale, his conquests shall never trouble me.’

Napoleon, in a decree dated from Hamburg, November 10, and also in another dated Milan, December 27, again declared England in a state of blockade, and he made all under his sway to cease all connection with that country, as far as commercial matters were concerned; and this is how the caricaturist met it: —

‘Blockade against Blockade, or John Bull a Match for Boney’ (Ansell, November 1807), shows the different sides of a ‘Wall of Blockade.’ John Bull is well victualled, and has a fine surloin of beef, and a full tankard, &c.; and he says: ‘Now Master Boney, we shall see which will hold out the longest, my wall against yours. Aye, aye, I can see you. I have left a peep hole. I believe you will soon be glad to change your Soup Maigre for my Roast beef.’ Boney, with only a basin of Soup Maigre before him, looks very disconsolate: ‘Who could have thought that he would build a wall also – I really think I had better have left him alone – Some how I don’t relish this Soup Maigre.’

‘The Continental Dockyard,’ by Woodward (November 27, 1807), shows a very tumbledown erection, called ‘The Gallic Storehouse for English Shipping,’ but it contains none. It only holds the ‘Yaw Mynheer,’ the ‘Don Diego,’ the ‘Swede,’ the ‘Dane,’ and the ‘Napoleon,’ on which a number of shipwrights are engaged, being driven to their task by Napoleon, with drawn sword. He thus addresses the master shipwright: ‘Begar you must work like de Diable, ve must annihilate dis John Bull.’ The unlucky foreman replies: ‘Please you, my Grand Empereur, ’tis no use vatever. As fast as ve do build dem, he vas clap dem in his storehouse over de way.’ Accordingly, we see in ‘John Bull’s Storehouse’ a large collection of captured vessels from the Armada – ‘Portobello,’ ‘Camperdown,’ ‘St. Vincent,’ ‘Nile,’ and ‘Trafalgar.’ John Bull and a number of sailors enjoy this cheering sight. Says he to them: ‘I say my lads, if he goes on this way we shall be overstocked.’ And a sailor remarks: ‘What a deal of pains some people take for nothing.’

I. Cruikshank (December 20, 1807) gives us ‘The Bear, the Monkey, the Turkey, and the Bull, or the true cause of the Russian war.’ Bonaparte, as the French Monkey, is leading the Russian Bear by a collar and chain, and thus addresses him: ‘The case is this, if you will make war against that overgrown Bull over the way, you shall have a slice of that fine Turkey! and the Eastern Star.’ The Turkey is represented as saying: ‘I wish I was well out of their clutches, but I am afraid they will have me at last.’ The Eastern Star appears on the horizon, and represents the Indies. A Bull, on the opposite coast, is in a menacing attitude, and bellows forth: ‘You had better beware, for, remember the old adage – When you play with a Bull, take care of his horns.’

‘John Bull refreshing the Bear’s Memory’ is by I. Cruikshank (December 20, 1807), and shows the former worthy opening an enormous volume, his journal, and thus addressing a crowned bear, who has a collar round his neck inscribed ‘This bear belongs to Napoleon,’ and who regards the book through an enormous pair of spectacles. ‘So you say, Master Bruin, that my visit to Denmark has no parallel in History – do be so good as to turn your spectacles to this page, and refresh your memory.’ And he points to a page of his journal, in which is written: ‘The Great, the Magnanimous, Catherine of Russia seized upon one third of the Kingdom of Poland, and kept it to herself. These peaceful Danes seized on the City of Hamburgh.’

On January 1, 1808, I. Cruikshank published ‘Boney stark mad, or more Ships, Colonies, and Commerce.’ It shows the fleet in the Tagus, and the British Admiral (Sir Sidney Smith) calling out through his speaking-trumpet, ‘Bon jour, Monsieur, if you would like a trip to the Brazils, I’ll conduct you there with a great deal of pleasure; perhaps you would like a taste of Madeira by the way.’ This is to Talleyrand, on whom Bonaparte is venting his rage, kicking him, and tearing off his wig, saying: ‘Stop them, stop them. Murder, fire! Why did you not make more haste, you hopping rascal? now, all my hopes are blasted, my revenge disappointed, and – I’ll glut it on you – Monster – Vagabond – Villain!!!’

The explanation of this caricature is, that as the French army was marching direct to Lisbon, the whole of the Portuguese Royal family embarked for the Brazils, on November 29, under convoy of a British squadron.

‘Delicious Dreams! Castles in the Air! Glorious Prospects! vide an Afternoon Nap after the Fatigues of an Official Dinner,’ is by Gillray (April 10, 1808), and shows the Cabinet asleep, a punch-bowl on the table, and full and empty bottles all around. They are so quiet that the mice are licking the Treasury plates. Behind Castlereagh’s chair is a cat (Catalani). Mr. Perceval sleeps with his arms on the table; the Duke of Portland in the chairman’s seat; Lord Liverpool with his back to the table; Canning, negligently lolling back in his chair, uses Lord Melville, who is under the table, as a footstool. The delicious dream they see has for its background the Tower of London, before which passes Britannia seated on a triumphal car, fashioned somewhat like a ship, and drawn by a bull; and, behind the car, chained to it, come, first, Bonaparte, the Russian Bear, Prussia, Austria, and Spain.

‘The Corsican Tiger at Bay’ (Rowlandson, July 8, 1808) shows Napoleon as a Tiger (or rather, as the artist has depicted him, a leopard), with his fore-feet on four Royal Greyhounds, whilst a pack of Patriotic Greyhounds are rushing to attack him. John Bull, standing on the white cliffs of Albion, presents his gun at him, singing the nursery rhyme —

 
‘There was a little man,
And he had a little gun,
And his bullets were made of lead —
 

D – me, but we’ll manage him amongst us.’ The Russian Bear and Austrian Eagle are chained together; but Austria thus proposes: ‘Now, Brother Bruin, is the time to break our chains.’ The Dutch frog, too, joins in the chorus: ‘It will be my turn to have a slap at him next.’

‘Boney Bothered, or an unexpected meeting’ (Ansell, July 9, 1808). This shows Boney having gone right through the world, and, coming out on the other side, planting his foot on the East Indies, at Bengal; but he is utterly astonished to find John Bull there also, armed with his redoubtable oaken cudgel. ‘Begar,’ says he, ‘Monsieur Jean Bull again! Vat! you know I was come here?’ To which John Bull, from whose pocket peeps a bundle of Secret Intelligence, replies, ‘To be sure I did – for all your humbug deceptions. I smoked¹⁶ your intentions, and have brought my Oak Twig with me, so now you may go back again.’

We now come to a period of our history which is interesting to all of us – the Peninsular War. Napoleon had turned his attention to Spain, and the Spanish king had abdicated, and been sent to Fontainebleau, with ample allowances. Joseph Bonaparte had been chosen king of Spain, and Murat had his kingdom of Naples. But the Spanish nation did not acquiesce in these arrangements. They broke into open revolt, the English helping them with arms and money, and, on June 6, the Supreme Junta formally declared war against Napoleon. This much is necessary to explain the following caricature: —

Gillray (July 11, 1808) drew ‘The Spanish Bull fight, or the Corsican Matador in danger,’ and kindly tells us that ‘The Spanish Bull is so remarkable for Spirit, that, unless the Matador strikes him dead at the first blow, the Bull is sure to destroy him.’ In the Theatre Royale de l’Europe sits George the Third, a trident in one hand, his spy-glass in the other, keenly watching the exciting fight, as also are the delighted sovereigns of Europe, the Pope, the Sultan of Turkey, and the Dey of Algiers. The Spanish Bull has broken the Corsican chain and collar which bound him, and, trampling on his king, has gored and tossed the Matador, Napoleon, whose sword is broken in an ineffectual attempt to despatch the animal. On the ground are three wounded bulls – Prussian, Dutch, and Danish – bellowing for help.

Woodward gives us a capital caricature in ‘The Corsican Spider in his web’ (July 12, 1808). Napoleon is there represented as a bloated spider, ‘Unbounded ambition,’ and he is just swallowing a Spanish fly. There are plenty of flies in his web – Austrian, Dutch, Portuguese, Hanoverian, Etrurian, Prussian, Hamburg, Italian, Venetian, and small flies innumerable. The Pope fly is just being entangled, and says, ‘I am afraid I shall be dragg’d in.’ ‘The Russian Fly’ has touched the fatal web, and exclaims, ‘I declare I was half in the web before I made the discovery.’ In fact, the only two that are as yet free from the baneful mesh is the Turkish fly, who thinks, ‘I am afraid it will be my turn next,’ and the British fly, who, well and hearty, calls out, ‘Ay, you may look, master Spider, but I am not to be caught in your web.’

To understand the next caricature, which, though dated July 27, must have been published somewhat later, we must note that Joseph Bonaparte entered Madrid, in state, on July 20, but, ominously, without any welcome from the people: although money was scattered broadcast, none but the French picked it up. He knew little of what was going on – how Moncey had been obliged to raise the siege of Valencia, and that Dupont had surrendered at Baylen. This latter piece of news he did not receive till the 26th or 27th of July; when he learned also that Castaños, with constantly increasing forces, was marching towards Madrid, he left that city for Vittoria.

A broadside caricature (artist unknown, July 27, 1808) shows Joseph leaving Madrid, his crown falling off, heading his troops, who are carrying off heaps of treasure. It is headed ‘Burglary and Robbery!!! Whereas on the night of the 20th of July last, a numerous gang of French Banditti entered the City of Madrid, and burglariously broke into the Royal Palace, National Bank, and most of the Churches thereof, murdering all who opposed them in their infamous proceedings.

‘The said banditti remained in Madrid until the 27th of the said month, and then suddenly departed, laden with immense booty, having stolen from thence several waggon-loads of plate, and every portable article of value, taking the road to France; all patriotic Spaniards are hereby requested to be aiding, and assisting, in the apprehension of all, or any, of the said robbers; and, whoever apprehends all, or any, of them, shall receive the thanks, and blessings, of every well-disposed person in Europe.

‘The said Banditti were headed by Joe Nap, a ferocious ruffian of the following description: – He is about five feet seven inches high, of a meagre, squalid aspect, saffron-coloured complexion. He was, when he escaped, habited in a royal robe, which he is known to have stolen from the King’s Wardrobe at Naples. He is a brother of the noted thief who has committed numberless robberies all over Europe, murdered millions of the human race, and who was latterly at Bayonne, where it is supposed he tarried, for the purpose of receiving the stolen goods which his brother was to bring from Spain.’

The war, in aid of Spain, against France, was now taken up in earnest, and Sir Arthur Wellesley was sent to Spain with a large body of troops, whilst reinforcements were to come from other quarters.

Almost one of the last of Gillray’s political caricatures, and a very good one it is, is ‘Apotheosis of the Corsican Phœnix’ (August 2, 1808). It has an imaginary quotation from a supposed ‘New Spanish Encyclopædia, edit. 1808. When the Phœnix is tired of Life, he builds a Nest upon the mountains, and setting it on Fire by the wafting of his own Wings, he perishes Himself in the Flames! and from the smoke of his Ashes arises a new Phœnix to illumine the world!!!’ This very graphic etching shows, on the summit of the Pyrenees, a globe, which is the nest of the Phœnix – Napoleon, with orb and sceptre, but, his crown falling off, he has fanned all Europe into a blaze with his wings. Around his neck is a ‘cordon d’honneur’ of daggers, and, amid the smoke which rises from the pyre, is seen a dove with olive branch, having on its wings ‘Peace on earth.’

I. Cruikshank still kept up the idea of Tiddy-Doll in ‘The Oven on Fire – or Boney’s last Batch entirely spoiled!!!’ (August 24, 1808.) He is on his knees, with arms outspread in consternation, for, in putting Dupont, on a ‘peel,’ into the oven – ‘Spain and Portugal’ – flames burst out, labelled Asturian Legions, Army of Portugal, Biscay, Catalonian Army, Army of Galicia, Andalusian Army, Army of New and Old Castille, British Army and Fleet, Estramadurean Army, Leon, Army of Valencia, Murcia, and Army of Granada; whilst in the centre of the flames is the legend ‘A people United can never be conquered.’ Poor Dupont exclaims, ‘Oh Nap, Nap! what is this? Instead of a King, you’ve only made me a Dup(e)ont.’ Bonaparte himself cries out, ‘Zounds, I shall be overwhelmed with this Patriotic Blaze. I did not think there was a single spark left, but I find there is more than all the Engines of France can extinguish.’ Talleyrand, who stands by his kneading-trough, which is labelled ‘State Prison,’ rests quiet, and says, ‘Aye Aye, I told you that you would burn your fingers at that batch of Ginger-bread – but I have nothing to do with it. I am only a Jailor, so there is an end to all my glory.’

We have seen the European monarchs sitting down to a game of quadrille. Ansell (August 1808) gives us its conclusion. Spain has suddenly arisen, and, upsetting the table, seizes Napoleon by the throat, accusing him of foul play: ‘I tell you, you are a Scoundrel, and if you do not restore my King, whom you have stolen from the other table, and reinstate Ponto– by the honor of a Spanish Patriot, I will strangle you.’ Trembling Bonaparte replies, ‘Don’t be so boisterous, I only borrowed him, merely to make up the pack.’ The Pope is on the floor, and the stolid Dutchman, with his hat in hand, says, ‘Donder and Blixens, I be quite tired of de game. Yaw! Yaw! now is de time for me to rise.’ At the other table all take a lively interest in the squabble. George the Third rises from his seat and grasps his ‘heart of oak’ stick, saying, ‘What! what! a dust, eh? so much the better. Boney got the worst of the game. I must lend a hand.’ Russia, with hand on sword, turns in his chair, remarking that ‘Now is the time to rub off the rust of Tilsit.’ Prussia rises, exclaiming, ‘If I don’t take advantage of the present opportunity, I shall indeed be a Prussian Cake.’ Austria reaches his hat and sword from its peg on the wall, and says, ‘Ah! Ah! the game has taken a different turn from what I expected, I must not be idle.’

The next caricature relates to the bad success of Napoleon’s arms. The raising the siege of Saragossa, the defeat of Vimiera, and the Convention of Cintra, by which the French were to evacuate Portugal, were not facts likely to be relished in France.

‘The Fox and the Grapes’ is another of Woodward’s (September 15, 1808), where the Corsican Fox interviews the Gallic Cock. The former says, ‘Believe me, my dear Doodle doo, you would not like them – I found them so sour that I absolutely could not touch them,’ in answer to the Cock’s query – ‘But my good friend, you promised to bring me home some Spanish Grapes and Portugal plums: where are they?’

‘Prophecy explained’ is by Rowlandson (September 17, 1808), and the text taken is from the Revelation of St. John (chap. xvii. verse 10): ‘And there are seven kings, five are fallen, and one is, and the other is not yet come, and when he cometh he must continue but a short space.’ The five that are fallen are the Kings of Würtemberg, Saxony, Holland, Bavaria, and Prussia, and these have fallen into a ‘Slough of Disgrace and Ridicule.’ The ‘one that is,’ it is needless to say, is Napoleon; and the ‘one that continued but a short space,’ is King Joseph, who, having been chased beyond the Pyrenees, has his crown snatched from him. There are many other caricatures on this subject of the flight of Joseph, but, although interesting, they hardly come within the scope of personal satire on Napoleon.

Rowlandson gives us (September 20, 1808) ‘Napoleon the little in a Rage with his great French Eagle!!’ Napoleon, with his sword drawn, and his hands clenched, is in a terrible rage with his brother Joseph, who, under the guise of a crowned eagle, is limping along with one leg in a sling. Napoleon thus addresses him: ‘Confusion and Destruction – what is this I see? Did I not command you not to return till you had spread your Wing of Victory over the whole Spanish Nation?’ And the poor bird meekly replies: ‘Aye, its fine talking Nap, but if you had been there, you would not much have liked it – The Spanish Cormorants pursued me in such a manner, that they not only disabled one of my legs, but set me a moulting in such a terrible way that I wonder I had not lost every feather; besides, it got so hot, I could not bear it any longer.’

There is a caricature (September 24, 1808) of ‘A hard passage, or Boney playing Base on the Continent.’ He is here represented as playing on the bass viol from the score of the ‘Conquest of Spain and Portugal.’ His task seems hard, and he exclaims: ‘Plague take it! I never met with so difficult a passage before. But, if I can once get over the Flats, we shall do pretty well, for you see the Key will then change into B sharp.’ A muzzled Russian bear is trying to play on the French horn, and says: ‘Why that is Natural enough, brother Boney, though this French horn of yours seems rather out of order.’

CHAPTER XLVI

PENINSULAR WAR, continued– MEETING AT ERFURT

‘The Valley of the Shadow of Death’ is, as far as I know, the last caricature of Gillray (September 24, 1808) in connection with Napoleon – if, indeed, it can be called a caricature, for it is far too serious in its conception. Napoleon’s situation at the moment is here firmly grasped. He is surrounded by enemies. With notched sword in hand, he leads the Russian bear. He is pursued by the German eagle and the spirit of Charles XII. Above is the ‘Turkish New Moon Rising in blood,’ the obscured portion of which is represented by ‘French Influence,’ the bright crescent as ‘English Influence,’ and the whole is dropping blood. A fiery comet, with a tiara as a nucleus (the Pope), is darting thunderbolts of excommunication upon him; whilst Junot and Dupont, shackled together at their necks, amidst clouds, seem to warn him of his fate. Immediately in front of him is a Portuguese wolf, which has broken its chain, a Sicilian terrier, and the Leo Britannicus. Death also appears, lance in one hand, hour-glass in the other, on a mule of ‘True Royal Spanish breed.’ In the Ditch of Styx is disappearing ‘Rex Joseph,’ whose hands and crown alone appear above water. Creeping upwards from the slime of the Lethean Ditch, is ‘The Rhenish Confederation of starved Rats, crawling out of the Mud,’ also ‘Dutch Frogs spitting out their spite’; whilst the ‘American Rattle Snake is shaking his tail,’ and the ‘Prussian scarecrow is attempting to fly.’

Certainly ‘Nap and his Partner Joe’ is not one of Rowlandson’s happiest efforts (September 29, 1808). Some Dons are kicking the brothers into the gaping jaws of a devil, singing meanwhile, ‘So seeing we were finely nick’d. Plump to the Devil we boldly kick’d. Both Nap and his Partner Joe.’

‘Nap and His fiends in their glory’ (October 1, 1808) shews him, his brother Joseph, Death, and the Devil, carousing. Napoleon is rising and giving a toast. ‘Come, gentlemen, here is success to Plunder and Massacre.’ There is below a song to the tune of ‘Drops of Brandy.’

NAP

 
These Spaniards are terrible rogues,
They will not submit to my fetters;
With patience so gracefully worn,
Nay, sought for, by Nations their betters.
But let us return to the Charge
And no longer with lenity treat them.
Once get them to lay down their arms,
And I warrant, brave boys, we shall beat them.
Rum ti iddidy – iddidy
Rum ti iddidy – ido.
 

DEATH

 
Brother Boney, we’ll never despair,
A trusty good friend I have found you.
Kill, plunder, and burn and destroy,
And deal desolation around you.
Then gaily let’s push round the glass,
We’ll sing and we’ll riot and revel,
And I’m sure we shall have on our side
Our very good friend, here, the Devil.
Rum ti, &c.
 

THE DEVIL

 
Believe me, friend Death, you are right.
Although I’m an ugly old fellow,
When mischief is getting afloat,
O! then I am jolly and mellow.
As soon as these Spaniards are crush’d,
Again we’ll be merry and sing Sirs,
And that we will quickly accomplish,
And Joey here, he shall be King, Sirs.
Rum ti, &c.
 

DON JOEY

 
Excuse me from lending my aid,
You may jointly pursue them and spike them;
But lately, I’ve seen them – and own,
I speak the plain truth, – I don’t like them.
They Liberty cherish so dear,
That they constantly make her their guide, O,
Who pleases may make themselves King,
But may I be d – d if I do.
Rum ti, &c.
 

‘Apollyon, the Devil’s Generalissimo, addressing his legions,’ a portion of which is here reproduced, is by I. Cruikshank (October 7, 1808). His speech is as follows: ‘Legions of Death. After having ravished, murdered, and plundered, on the banks of the Danube, and the Vistula, I shall order you to march through France, without allowing you a moment’s rest!! I have occasion for you – the hideous presence of Religion, and Loyalty, contaminates the Continent of Spain, and Portugal. Let your aspect drive them away from thence; let us carry our conquering Eagles to the gates of Heaven: there also we have an injury to avenge– you have exceeded all modern murderers – you have placed yourselves on a level with the most ferocious cannibals– Eternal War, Robbery, and Plunder shall be the reward of your Exertions, for I never can enjoy rest till the Sea is covered with your Blood!!’ And the army rejoice, shouting: ‘Ha, Ha, more Blood!’

A rather clever broadside, artist unknown (October 1808), shows us ‘General Nap turned Methodist Preacher.’ Napoleon, in a black gown, occupies the pulpit, having in his hand a musket with fixed bayonet, on which is a windmill, and, in his wig, he has fixed a cross, tricoloured flag, surmounted by a cap of liberty, and a crescent. In the vestry hang a military uniform, an episcopal mitre, and chasuble, or cope – a Turkish costume, a bottle of arsenic for the poor sick of Jaffa, a musket labelled ‘Scarecrow,’ and a bloody dagger, which does duty as the ‘Imperial Cross.’ A general acts as clerk, the organ pipes are cannon, and the audience, when not military, is seated on drums. The letterpress is as follows: ‘General Nap turned Methodist Preacher, a new attempt to gull the credulous; dedicated to Mr. Whitbread. “Dear Sam, repeat my Words, but not my Actions.” “Dearly beloved brethren, Honour, Country, liberty! this is the order of the day; far from us all idea of conquest, bloodshed, and war. Religion and true Philosophy must ever be our maxim. Liberty, a free Constitution, and no Taxes, that is our cry. No Slave trade; humanity shudders at the very thought of it!! The brave, the excellent, English detest it. Yea, we shall all be happy. Commerce, Plenty, and all sorts of pretty things will be our lot. Good Jacobins, rise and assert your rights. And you, brave soldiers, the honour of France, Plunder and Blood shall once more be your cry. Double pay and cities burnt will come down in showers upon you. Yea! ye shall all be Generals, all be members of the Legion of Honour! The Eagles will once more cover the world. Now is the time to destroy Great Britain, that treacherous country which always seeks our ruin. Honour and Victory will lead us.

‘“Dear Countrymen, without good faith there is no tie in this world. Dear Jacobins, we all acknowledge no God, and nothing else. Let the Altars be lighted up, and your organs play the Marseillois, that sacred air, which fires every Frenchman’s breast. Yea, I swear by this holy Cross I now hold in my hands, and in this sacred place, that you are all free, and without restraint, that my intentions are pure, and that I wish for nothing else but Peace, Plunder, and Liberty! Amen!!”’

‘Political Quacks, or the Erfurt Co-partnership commencing Business’ (artist unknown, November 1808) shows Napoleon, as a quack doctor, on a stage with a muzzled bear (Russia), who is distributing handbills, and says: ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I am proud to say, as well as my muzzle will permit me, that I have a large share in the concern.’ Seated behind Napoleon are his different patients, whilst Death, grinning through a curtain, calls out: ‘Walk up, walk up, kill or cure.’ Napoleon himself, as the quack doctor, has in his hand one of his famous cannon-ball pills, one of which ‘is a dose,’ and a trayful of them is on the floor of the stage. They are named Naples, Egypt, Lodi, Alps, Switzerland, &c.; and he declaims: ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, depend upon it here is no deception. Observe the patients ranged behind me. On my right, a Prussian Gentleman, who was much afflicted with a complication of disorders, till I cured him by administering a few leaden Boluses – next to him is an Austrian patient, entirely reliev’d by my Austerlitz draught, next to him is a Spaniard, whose case is rather doubtful – I won’t say much about it. The next is a Dutchman – he was a little crack’d, but I have made him as lame as a frog – beyond him is an old gentleman of the Popish persuasion, whom I cured with one bottle of my Italian drops – there are many more in the background, whom I have cured of various disorders, or have now in my care – but, Ladies and Gentlemen, let me particularly draw your attention to the great Russian bear, once a very fierce animal, but dumb like the rest of his species, but after taking a dose of my Friedland Pills, and an application of the Tilsit powder, he is able to converse like a rational being!!!’ Talleyrand, who is on the stage, calls out: ‘Ah, Master Bull, what, are you among the crowd? come now, you and your Sweedish Friend had better step up into the Booth, and take a dose or two of my Master’s pills.’ But John Bull surlily declines the invitation with, ‘We’ll see you and your Master d – d first.’

This of course refers to the meeting of Napoleon and Alexander at Erfurt, where, besides, were collected the Kings of Prussia, Saxony, Bavaria, Würtemberg, and Westphalia, the Prince Primate, the Princes of Anhalt, Coburg, Saxe Weimar, Darmstadt, Baden, Nassau, and Mecklenburg. The two great potentates rivalled each other in their courtesies. But solid business was also to be done; they did not meet simply to waste their time in fêtes. Napoleon engaged not to meddle with Alexander’s designs on Sweden and Turkey, and not to help the Poles. Alexander, on his side, promised not to interfere in Spain, and to recognise the Kings of Spain and Naples. And they wrote a joint letter to George the Third, proposing a general peace, on the basis that each should keep what he had. The English Government, however, asked that Spain and Sweden should be parties; but this, not suiting the designs of the Imperial thieves, the negotiations came to an end.

 
Nap, with the Russian Emp’ror, now,
Became quite free, we must allow;
At Erfurth, the appointed spot,
They met together, as I wot,
And German kings and princes, too,
Were present at this interview;
Save Emp’ror Francis,¹⁷ who, they say,
Sent an apology that day.
How many compliments were paid,
How great the pomp that was display’d.
Oh, nothing – nothing could be grander
Than Bonaparte and Alexander!
Alternately they dined together,
And often rode out in fine weather;
To be so jovial, gay, and free,
Suited Napoleon to a T.
Thro’ Alexander’s mediation
With England, a negociation
Was set a going, for the end
Of leaving Spain without a friend.
The British monarch, ever wise,
Refus’d t’ abandon his allies,
Still Spain by England was protected,
And Boney’s terms with scorn rejected.
 

An unknown artist (November 19, 1808) gives ‘The Progress of the Emperor Napoleon.’ At first he is represented as ‘A Ragged Headed Corsican Peasant’; next, ‘Studying mischief at the Royal Academy at Paris’; then ‘An Humble Ensign in a Republican Corps requesting a situation in the British Army’; afterwards, ‘A determined Atheistical Republican General, ordering his men to fire on the Parisians vollies of grape shot.’ He then changes to ‘A Turk at Grand Cairo’; afterwards he became ‘A runaway from Egypt’; then ‘A devout Catholic,’ and, finally, ‘An Emperor on a throne of iniquities’: on which throne is inscribed, ‘Murders – Duke d’Enghien, Prisoners at Jaffa, Palm, Capt. Williams, Pichegru, Cahon, Toussaint, &c., &c. Robberies innumerable.’