NEGOTIATIONS FOR PEACE--DEATH OF FOX--NAPOLEON’S VICTORIOUS CAREER--HIS
PROCLAMATION OF A BLOCKADE OF ENGLAND.
Apropos of the negotiations for peace, there is a picture of Woodward’s
(July 1806), in which Fox is just closing the door behind a messenger
laden with despatches. John Bull, whose pockets are stuffed with
_Omnium_ and _Speculation on Peace_, entreats him with clasped
hands: ‘Now do Charley, my dear good boy, open the door a little bit
farther, just to enable me to take in a few of my friends at the
Stock Exchange.’ But Fox remonstrates: ‘Really, Mr. Bull, you are too
inquisitive--don’t you see the door for Negotiation is opened? don’t
you see the back of a Messenger? don’t you see he has got dispatches
under his arm? what would you desire more?’
‘Experiments at Dover, or Master Charley’s Magic Lanthorn,’ is by
Rowlandson (July 21, 1806), and shows Fox seated on the seashore,
projecting images on to the opposite coast. The slide he is passing
through the lantern begins with a ‘Messenger from Boulogne,’ then a
‘Messenger to Paris,’ then ‘More Dispatches’; and he is now showing
Bonaparte as a newsboy, with his horn, calling out ‘Preliminaries of
Peace.’ The next, and final, picture to come is a man waving his hat
and shouting ‘Huzza.’ Fox is saying: ‘There, Master Bull, what do you
think of that--I told you I would surprize you. Preliminaries of Peace!
Huzza!’ But John Bull is not quite satisfied with his conduct, and
fancies there has been something kept from him. ‘Why yes, it be all
very foine, if it be true. But I can’t forget that d--d Omnium last
week--they be always one way or other in contradictions! I tell thee
what, Charley, since thee hast become a great man--I think in my heart
thee beest always conjuring.’
‘The Pleasing and Instructive Game of _Messengers_--or Summer Amusement
for John Bull,’ by Ansell (August 1806), shows us the Channel, on
both sides of which a lively game is being kept up by means of
racket bats, a constant supply of balls, in the shape of messengers,
between the two countries, being kept in the air. Their messages are
Peace, Hope, Despair, No peace, Passports, Peace to a Certainty, No
peace, Credentials, Despatches, &c. On the French side, Napoleon and
Talleyrand keep the game alive, ‘Begar Talley, dis be ver amusant--Keep
it up as long as you can, that we may have time for our project.’
Sheridan, Fox, and others play on the English side; John Bull being
merely a spectator, not too much amused, as a paper, protruding from
his pocket, shows: ‘Very shy at the Stock Exchange.’ Sheridan calls
out: ‘That’s right my lads, bang ’em about. John Bull seems quite
puzzled.’ Fox asks: ‘Is not it a pretty game Johnny?’ Johnny, however,
says: ‘Pretty enough as to that, they do fly about monstrous quick to
be sure: but you don’t get any more money out of my pocket for all
that!!’
[Illustration: NEWS FROM CALABRIA.]
Gillray gives us a veritable caricature in ‘News from Calabria!
Capture of Buenos Ayres! i.e. the Comforts of an Imperial Dejeune at
St. Clouds’ (September 13, 1806), a portion only of which is given in
illustration. Boney is here, terrific in his wrath; poor Talleyrand,
who has brought the news, is receiving grievous punishment from his
Imperial master. Not only is his ear pulled (a favourite trick of
Napoleon’s), but he is being belaboured with the tea-urn, which is made
in the form of the world: his master crying out: ‘Out on ye Owl, noting
but song of Death!!’ Napoleon has kicked over the breakfast-table, and
the scalding contents of the tea-urn are being deposited in the lap
of Josephine, who screams with agony and terror. The maids of honour
and courtiers, though refraining from open demonstration, look aghast
at the imperial violence, which is not diminished by the presence of
a number of messengers, whose news is particularly unwelcome: ‘Spain
in despair for the loss of her Colonies.’ ‘All Germany rising, and
arming _en Masse_.’ ‘Holland starving, and ripe for a revolt.’ ‘St.
Petersburg: refusal to ratify the French Treaty.’ ‘Prussia rousing
from the Trance of Death.’ ‘Swedish defiance. Charles XII. redivivus.’
‘Switzerland cursing the French yoke.’ ‘Italy shaking off her Chains.’
‘La Vendée again in motion.’ ‘Portugal true to the last gasp.’ ‘Sicily
firing like Etna.’ ‘Denmark waiting for an opportunity.’ ‘Turkey
invoking Mahomet.’ Naturally, all this bad news contributes towards
making it a ‘hard time’ for Talleyrand.
Argus gives us (September 1806) ‘The Continental Shaving Shop. Boney
beats Jemmy Wright, who shaved as well as any man, almost, not quite’
(September 1806). As a barber, he is going to shave the Grand Turk,
and, flourishing an enormous razor of Corsican steel, seizes his beard.
This the Turk naturally objects to, saying: ‘By the Holy Prophet, I
must not part with my beard, why, my people will not acknowledge me for
the grand Signor again at Constantinople.’ Talleyrand, as assistant,
is lathering the Turk’s face, persuading him, ‘Come, come, don’t make
such a fuss, my Master _will_ cut away when he catches anybody in his
shop.’ Boney calls out: ‘Lather away Talley. I’ll soon ease him of his
superfluities and make him look like my Christian customers.’
The sort of treatment they are likely to get is clearly set forth in
an announcement on the wall. ‘Nap Boney, shaver general to most of the
Sovereigns on the Continent, shaves expeditiously, and clean, a few
gashes excepted; is ready to undertake any new Customer who is willing
to submit to the above.’ His treatment is exemplified by the appearance
of Austria, whose gashed face and head is ornamented with strips of
court-plaister. He is talking to John Bull, who looks in at a window:
‘Come, Johnny, come in and be shaved, don’t be frightened at the size
of the razor, it cuts very clean, I assure you.’ His reply is, ‘By
Goles so it seems, and leaves a dom’d sight of gashes behoind, as you
and Mynheer can testify!!’ Poor Holland is in even a worse plight than
Austria, and is talking to Prussia, who is sitting in a chair, ready
lathered for shaving. Says he to the Dutchman: ‘I hope he don’t mean
to shave me as he has you, and my neighbour Austria there? I should
not sit here so quietly with my face lathered.’ Holland replies: ‘Yaw
Mynheer very close shaver, its nix my doll when you are used to it.’
‘Political Quadrille’ is by Ansell (October 1806), and represents two
sets playing that game of cards. One set is composed of George the
Third, Russia, Spain, and Prussia. The other consists of Napoleon,
Italy, Holland, and Austria. George the Third says: ‘I never had luck
when the Curse of Scotland[15] was in my hand--however I have now
discarded it--Ay this will do--I have now a strong suit, without a
_knave_ among them.’ Russia observes: ‘I never had such luck since I
have been a Russian, compleatly bested off the board--but that I must
endeavour to forget, and try to play better in future.’ Spain says: ‘I
was obliged to play, tho’ it was _forced Spadille_. My Queen deceived
me--but however I must not now give myself _Ayres_, as I have lost all
my Dollars.’ Prussia remarks: ‘Shall I play or not? If I play, I fear I
shall be bested, and if not, they will call me _Prussian Cake_.’
In the other set of players, Napoleon says: ‘I begin to fancy I can
play alone--No, I can call a _King_ when I please, I am strong in my
suits--besides I know how to finesse my Cards.’ Austria says: ‘For the
present I fear the game is up with me, so I _pass_.’ Italy says: ‘I
fear it is nearly over with poor _Ponto_.’ Holland reflects: ‘I have
got a _King_ without calling one--but I have no _Trump_ now, and I fear
I shall lose all my fish.’
Fox died in September 1806, and was buried, October 10, in Westminster
Abbey, close to the remains of his rival Pitt. With him were buried
the last hopes of a peace with France, and, in October, finding all
negotiations unsuccessful (Great Britain requiring Russia to be made a
party to the Treaty, which France refused), Lord Lauderdale demanded
his passports, and left for England.
Meanwhile, Napoleon marched on from victory to victory. The battle of
Jena, the occupation of Erfurth, Greissen, Hall, Leipzig, Ascherleben,
Bemburg, Spandau, Potsdam, and, lastly, of Berlin, were all in his
triumphal march.
A public entry having made,
At Berlin he his airs display’d;
A Court day absolutely held,
And due attendance there compell’d.
Of Prussia’s King he made a scoff,
And all his little taunts play’d off.
And here he issued a decree,
The most invet’rate that could be,
In hopes t’annoy Great Britain’s trade,
All Commerce with her he forbade.
The Capture he ordain’d, ’tis true,
Of British ships--the seizure, too,
Of letters, if in English written,
Or if directed to Great Britain;
And this he styled--a strange romance!
The fundamental law of France.
The decree is dated from Berlin, November 21, 1806, and, after a
preamble, states:--‘1. The British Islands are declared in a state
of blockade. 2. All trade and intercourse with the British Islands is
prohibited; consequently letters or packets addressed to England, or
written in the English language, will not be conveyed by post, and will
be seized. 3. Every native of England, whatever his rank and condition,
who may be found in the countries occupied by our troops, or by those
of our allies, shall be made prisoners of war. 4. Every warehouse, and
all merchandise and property of any description whatever, belonging
to an English subject, or the produce of English manufactures or
colonies, is declared good prize. 5. Trade in English merchandise is
prohibited, and all merchandise belonging to England, or the produce
of her manufactures, and colonies, is declared good prize. 6. One half
of the produce of the confiscation of the merchandise, and property,
declared good prize by the preceding articles, will be appropriated to
the indemnification of the merchants, for losses they have sustained,
through the capture of trading vessels, by English cruisers. 7. No
vessel coming directly from England, or her colonies, or having been
there since the publication of the present decree, will be received in
any port. 8. Any vessel which, by means of a false declaration, shall
contravene the above article, shall be seized, and the Ship and Cargo
shall be confiscated as if they were English property,’ &c.
The _Times_, of December 8, commenting on this proclamation, says:--‘If
our orders of Council, and our Navy are not competent to seal up the
ports of France, we should be glad to know how Buonaparte, who can
scarce venture to _steal_ a ship to sea, is to retaliate with effect
upon this country. We believe none of the nations, which are yet free
to trade with us, will be deterred by a Decree emitted at Berlin, from
sending their produce to the markets of Britain. Of all the follies
that have ever escaped from Buonaparte, in the extravagance, and
intoxication, of his ambition, and success, this we consider as one
of the greatest. He, in fact, pledges himself to that which he has no
adequate means whatever of carrying into effect. His Decree will have
as little influence upon the trade of England, as his Navy has.’
Ansell designed (December 1806) ‘Jack Tars conversing with Boney on
the Blockade of Old England.’ Napoleon is vapouring about behind his
fortifications, flourishing his sword, ‘The Terror of the Continent,’
and saying: ‘Begar by my Imperial decree, _England_ is in a State of
Blockade.’ Two sailors are in a small boat called the _Nelson_, and
one says: ‘Why what do you mean by that, you whipper snapper--Heres
Tom Pipes, and I, in this little cock boat, will Blockade you so that
you dare not bring out a single vessel--Blockade, indeed! you are a
pretty fellow to talk of blockading!’ His companion contemptuously
adds: ‘I wonder, Jack, you throw away your precious time in talking
to such a lubber.’ John Bull, pipe in hand, stands on the cliffs of
Albion, roaring with laughter. ‘I cannot help laughing at the whimsical
conceit.’
Souley (December 1806) drew ‘Bonaparte blockading John Bull.’
Boney for want of proper Sail,
By threats bombastic would prevail.
Boney and his army are crossing the Channel in their cocked hats; he,
presenting sword and pistol at John Bull, says: ‘I’ll Blockade ye, ye
English Scoundrel. ’Tis you thwart all my designs--’Tis you and you
only who dare oppose MY WILL. But I’ll Blockade ye--and not one of your
rascally Craft shall stir.’ John Bull, convulsed with laughter, is
dancing, and saying: ‘Shiver my timbers, here’s a go! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Why Master Boney you look like Neptune crossing the _Line_. I suppose
next you will be blockading the moon.’
And so ends the year 1806.