NAPOLEON’S POLISH CAMPAIGN--BATTLE OF EYLAU--MEETING OF THE EMPERORS AT
TILSIT--CAPTURE OF THE DANISH FLEET.
1807 commences with ‘JOHN BULL playing on the BASE Villain’ (artist
unknown, January 1, 1807), in which we see that revered personage
playing ‘Britains Strike home’ on poor Boney, with a sword in lieu of a
bow, and grasping him tightly round the neck.
In November 1806, Napoleon, with his army, had entered Poland, and, on
December 18 of the same year, he entered Warsaw.
An unknown artist (January 1807) depicts ‘The Entrance into Poland
or another Bonne Bouche for Boney.’ On their knees are the Polish
magnates, who exclaim: ‘What a happy day for Poland!’ The foremost
is kissing the toe of Napoleon, who says: ‘Rise up _free_ and
_independent_ Polanders, depend upon it you shall have a King, and I’ll
be Vice Roy _over him_.’ Behind, a standard-bearer carries a flag,
on which is shown a pair of shackles, a guillotine, and two crossed
swords, with the legend, ‘Comfort for the Poles.’ Beside him, another
French soldier is emptying a sack of fetters.
The Russians withdrew for a time, but only to return in force, and
Napoleon had to change his tactics to meet them; he therefore proposed
to concentrate his forces, and compel the Russians to give battle, with
the Vistula in their rear, and he himself between them and Russia. His
despatches, however, were intercepted, and the battle was precipitated.
Augereau’s division lost its way, and was cut up by the Russians; and
Bernadotte did not come, as the despatches, bidding him do so, had
been captured. The fight in the snow at Preuss Eylau was fearful, and
the carnage, especially in the churchyard, was horrible. Four thousand
men died there. The French put down their loss in this battle as 2,000
killed, 6,000 wounded; while the loss of the Russians was 7,000 dead,
16,000 wounded, 12,000 prisoners, and 45 cannon taken.
That the blockade still galled us is evidenced by a caricature of
Woodward’s (January 27, 1807), who designed ‘The Giant Commerce
overwhelming the Pigmy Blockade.’ Commerce is a strange figure: its
cap is _Wedgwood ware_, its face _Staffordshire ware_, its eyes _Derby
Porcelain_, and its mouth _Worcester porcelain_. Its body is _Wool_,
arms of _printed calico_, and its hands are encased in _Woodstock
gloves_. It wears a _Norwich shawl_, has _leather_ breeches, _Fleecy
hosiery_ stockings, and _Staffordshire_ shoes. It is actively employed
in hurling various missiles at Napoleon, who is sheltered behind his
fortifications. These implements of offence consist of such articles
as _Birmingham steel_, _pig iron_, _scissors_, _combs_, _knives and
forks_, _block tin_, _sugar_, _patent coffins_, _Birmingham buttons_,
and a cask each of _London porter_, _Maidstone_, _Geneva_, and _British
spirits_. Napoleon entreats: ‘Pray Mr. Commerce don’t overwhelm me, and
I will take off de grande Blockade of old England.’
The two following caricatures were designed and published before the
news had arrived in England of the crushing defeat of the Russians at
Eylau, which only appeared publicly in the ‘Times’ of March 10.
Ansell (March 1807) gives ‘Boney and his Army in Winter Quarters.’
In the background is a _State Prison for Prisoners of War_; and,
in the centre of the picture, the Russian bear hugs poor Boney, and
prepares to drop him in the river Bug, in which is a board inscribed,
‘Hic Jacet. Snug in the Bug several thousands of the great nation.’
Bruin growls: ‘Hush a bye! Hush a bye! take it all quietly, you’ll
soon find yourself as snug as a bug in a rug.’ But Boney, writhing
in the embrace, cries out: ‘Oh D--n the Bug, I wish I had never seen
it. My dear Talley--don’t tell my faithful subjects the true state
of my situation. Any thing but the truth, my dear Talley--Oh this
Cursed Russian bear, how close he hugs me.’ Talleyrand, with one foot
in the Vistula, and the other on land, replies: ‘Leave me alone for
a Bulletin’--applies his lips to a trumpet, from which issues a true
and a false report. The true one, ‘4000 prisoners, 3000 drowned, 12
Eagles taken, 12000 killed,’ is disappearing into thin air; whilst that
‘For Paris’ is as follows: ‘Grand Bulletin. The august Emperor of the
great Nation informs his faithful, and beloved, subjects, that, having
performed wonders on the banks of the Bug, he has now closed a glorious
campaign for the season, and retired with ease, and comfort, into
Winter quarters.’
‘The Political Cock horse’ (Souley, March 10, 1807) shows Napoleon’s
somewhat ragged white charger stumbling over a stone, ‘Insatiable
Ambition.’ Benningsen has jumped up behind him, seized the reins,
and hurled Boney to the ground. In his fall he loses his sword
‘Oppression,’ and cries out pitifully, ‘Stop, stop, good Benningsen,
don’t kill a poor fellow! An Armistice! an Armistice! I have very good
proposals of peace for you.’ But the relentless Russian prepares to run
him through with his sword, saying: ‘You Bombastic Scoundrel, Robber,
Murderer, Violator, Incendiary, &c., &c., &c. You thought of reigning
with your Iron Crown (in) the North, as well as the South. But know,
Tyrant, that the Sons of the North are to be your Superior.’ John Bull
encourages him with ‘Bravo, bravo, brave Russians: One home stroke
more, and good bye to Master Boney.’
[Illustration: THE NEW DYNASTY, OR THE LITTLE CORSICAN GARDENER
PLANTING A ROYAL PIPPIN TREE.]
Of Gillray’s caricature of ‘The New Dynasty; or the little Corsican
Gardener Planting a Royal Pippin Tree,’ only a portion is given--that
relating to Napoleon. The Old Royal Oak is being hewn down by ‘All the
Talents,’ and Talleyrand is busy digging a hole to receive Napoleon’s
royal pippin, which is to take its place. The topmost pippin, which
is crowned, represents Lord Moira, who claimed to be descended from
the old kings of Ballynahinch. The others are, ‘Countess of Salisbury
beheaded 1505,’ ‘Duchess of Cleves put to death in 1453,’ ‘Henry de
la Pole beheaded in 1538,’ ‘Plantagenet beheaded in 1415,’ ‘Crookback
Richard killed at Bosworth,’ ‘Edmund, 4th son of Henry 2, beheaded.’
The royal pippins behind, which have already been planted, and have
taken root, are labelled respectively, ‘Etruria, Wurtemburg, Saxon,
Holland, and Italian;’ whilst on the ground, by a basket, are grafts,
which respectively represent Sir Francis Burdett, Cobbett, and Horne
Tooke.
Napoleon pursued his victories over the Russians. Dantzig was taken;
at Friedland the Russians lost 18,000 men and 25 generals, killed
and wounded, and at last Königsberg was taken by Soult, after having
been evacuated by the Russians. It was time for them to beg for an
armistice, and on June 21 one was concluded. Napoleon was asked to have
an interview with the Emperor of Russia, to which he consented, and
Tilsit was the place appointed; and, in order that this meeting should
be quite private, and free from interruption, Napoleon ordered a large
raft to be moored in the middle of the Niemen, on which was erected a
room with two antechambers, all elegantly furnished and decorated. Both
the roof and the doors were ornamented with French and Russian eagles.
On June 25 they met; Napoleon reached the raft first, and stood on
its edge to welcome Alexander. They met and parted in a most friendly
manner. This incident, it is needless to say, afforded a fine subject
to the caricaturist.
Ansell gives us, certainly, a more comic representation of the meeting
of the Emperors than any other caricaturist (July 1807). Bonaparte is
hugging the Emperor of Russia in a most exaggerated style, saying: ‘My
dear Brother--receive this Fraternal Embrace out of pure affection.’
But Russia, finding the raft tilting violently, and not liking such
demonstrative affection, exclaims, ‘Zounds, Brother, you’ll squeeze me
to death--besides, I find my side of the raft is sinking very fast.’
Poor Prussia is floundering in the water, his crown floating away from
him: ‘What a Prussian cake I was to listen to him--I am afraid I shall
never recover it.’
[Illustration]
Nap, with the hopes of peace delighted,
The Russian Emperor invited,
And for this interview, with craft,
Had been prepar’d a pretty raft,
Which on the river Niemen floated,
With two commodious tents, devoted
To the sole use of the contractors,
Who were indeed conspicuous actors;
The signal given, as commanded,
Each from his boat together landed,
And on this raft, their ends to get,
By Nap, was Alexander met--
Exchanging the fraternal hug
They took their seats in manner snug;
When Nap began his wheedling jargon,
And made, depend on’t, a good bargain.
The peace of Tilsit, as recorded,
A temporary rest afforded.
And now three sovereigns, they say,
Sat down together very gay:
Meaning the Emperor of Russia,
Our hero, and the King of Prussia:
Their visits to each other, they
Alternately were wont to pay.
Napoleon talk’d of this and that,
And entertain’d them with his chat.
Their life guards, who were much delighted,
To dinner, were by Nap invited,
The brotherly embrace went round,
There was not a discordant sound.
In harmony the day they spent,
Each countenance display’d content.
Now matters were so well arrang’d,
A while they uniforms exchang’d,
And after they had dined, and talk’d,
Together through the streets they walked.
Ansell drew (July 1807) ‘An Imperial Bonne bouche, or the dinner at
Tilsit.’ Napoleon, attended by his guards, sits on one side of the
table, and the Emperor of Russia opposite to him; the latter has but
an empty plate, and a castor of cayenne pepper before him, whilst
Napoleon is stuffing his mouth with ‘Continental slices,’ and has
besides, immediately before him, ‘Austerlitz biscuit,’ ‘Friedland Pye,’
and ‘Eylau Custard,’ which he intends carving with his sword. But
he banters his brother Emperor with ‘My dear Brother, you dont eat;
What is the matter with you? see what a hearty meal our other beloved
Cousin, and brother, is making, from the Crumbs that fall from the
table.’ And Prussia is seen on his knees, picking up some fragments of
a ‘Prussian Cake.’ Russia, with expectant knife and fork, looks very
blankly at his _confrère_, and replies: ‘How the deuce, brother, am I
to eat when you keep everything to yourself?’
‘Mutual Honors at Tilsit, or the Monkey, the Bear and the Eagle’
(August 1807), by Ansell, represents Napoleon, as a monkey, seated
on a drum, having a plaque upon his breast, inscribed ‘Order of St.
Andrew, to our Faithful &c. &c. &c. Fudge,’ decorating a bear with
‘The Legion of Honor. To our trusty and beloved Cousin &c. &c. Fudge.’
The poor bear wears a fool’s cap and bells, and is muzzled, whilst
its throat is galled by a spiked collar, called, in irony, ‘Collar
of Independence.’ Napoleon says, ‘Really, Brother Bruin--you never
look’d so fine in your life. You cannot think how the medal, and cap
and bells, become you.’ But the bear ruefully ruminates, ‘I shall
really be ashamed to return to my own Fraternity. I wonder what my old
Friend, the Lion, will say.’ The Prussian eagle is also decorated with
the collar of the Legion of Honour, but is in a wofully dilapidated
condition, which is well explained by its own reflections: ‘It is
certainly very fine--but, what with having one of my heads chopped
off--and the crown half cracked of the other; besides having my wings
cropp’d, I think, somehow, I was better off before.’
The English, perforce, had to keep up their courage, and one etching,
by Ansell (August 1807), represents, in the background, Napoleon on
his throne, and all the European sovereigns grovelling before him.
The foreground is occupied by Britannia and John Bull. The former
asks: ‘Do give me your advice--what am I to do--All my foreign Allies
have deserted me,--even Russia has joined them, they are bending at
the feet of the usurper.’ John Bull, a truculent-looking sailor, with
oaken Cudgel, replies: ‘What are you to do? Why stick to me, your old
and faithful ally John Bull, who will never desert you while he has a
timber to support him.’ The picture is called ‘Britannia in tribulation
for the loss of her Allies, or John Bull’s advice.’
In ‘The Polish Pie, or the Effects of the Peace at Tilsit’ (artist
unknown, September 10, 1807), we see the Emperor of Russia, and
Napoleon, carving a huge ‘Polish pie,’ the Russian’s opinion of which
is ‘I think I never relished a Pie so well in all my life.’ Whilst thus
engaged, comes poor, wounded, tattered Prussia, humbly, with hat in
hand: ‘Pray give a part of the Pie to a poor broken-down Prussian--You
know you promised me formerly you would not touch it; but now you have
reduced me to poverty, crutches, and a wooden leg--you’ll not allow
me a mouthfull, ’tis a very hard case indeed! Pray remember a poor
Prussian!’ Napoleon turns to his brother Emperor, and opines, ‘Suppose,
Cousin, we give him a small piece of the _Crust_, just to keep him from
grumbling.’
The Danes sought to curry favour with Napoleon, or perhaps they were
obliged to act as they did; but they closed their ports, such as
Holstein, &c., to British ships, which John Bull could not stand. So
Admiral Gambier, with a fleet, having on board 20,000 troops, sailed to
set matters right. Negotiations failed, and the admiral used the _force
majeure_ at his disposal. Copenhagen was bombarded, and on September 8
the British took possession of the fortifications, &c., of Copenhagen,
captured the whole Danish fleet, fully armed and equipped, consisting
of 18 sail of the line, 15 frigates, 6 brigs, and 25 gun-boats, which
were safely navigated to England, with the exception of one ship, which
was stranded. Unfortunately, Copenhagen itself suffered severely, guns
not being so scientifically constructed as at present, and accuracy as
to range was impossible.
‘Gulliver towing the Fleet into Lilliput!’ (I. Cruikshank, October
16, 1807) shows Admiral Gambier swimming towards England, towing
the captured vessels. George the Third, on a Martello tower,
watching him through his spy-glass, and saying, with his accustomed
iteration, ‘What, What, Gulliver the 2nd--he--Gulliver the 2nd--More
Nelsons--more Nelsons--brave fellows!’ On the Continent Napoleon
is seen furious, and the countries under his sway are in different
attitudes of despair. Napoleon shouts out, ‘Curse that fellow; here,
Tally, stop him: what! will nobody stop him? Then begar, we never shall
invade England, and all our schemes are frustrated.’ On the coast of
Zealand a Jack Tar is thus explaining to a native: ‘Hold your jaw; You
know as how you used to rob our forefathers, you lubber, and so you
wanted to assist that French Monkey to do it again, but it would not
do.’
Ansell published (October 21, 1807) ‘Malignant Aspects looking with
envy on John Bull and his Satellites, or, a New Planetary System.’ In
a centre medallion sits John Bull, happily smoking, and with a jug of
good October by his side. He is surrounded by the British navy, and a
halo of glory. Rushing towards him is ‘A Corsican Comet Frenchified,’
and chained to him is ‘A Russian bear with two heads, an appendage
to the Comet.’ There is a ‘Danish Mouse,’ an ‘Italian Greyhound,’ an
‘American Torpedo,’ a ‘Swiss Cheese,’ a ‘Spanish Puff,’ a ‘Dutch frog,’
besides many ‘minor Constellations with malignant aspects.’