NAPOLEON LEAVES FOR ELBA--HIS RECEPTION THERE.
After a sad parting with his old guard at Fontainebleau, on April 20,
Napoleon left for Elba, embarking on board an English frigate on the
28th. We can now resume the caricatures.
Rowlandson produced (April 12, 1814) ‘Bloody Boney, the Carcass
Butcher; left off Trade and retiring to Scarecrow Island.’ Napoleon
and the Empress, together with a bag of brown bread, are mounted on
a donkey--he wears a fool’s cap, and she belabours the ass with a
‘Baton Marechale’; the young King of Rome precedes them on a Corsican
dog. The usual direction-post (a gallows) shows the road to Elba, and
ravens are hankering after him, saying, ‘We long to pick your bones.’
A heavy-booted postilion is calling out, ‘Be Gar, you Cocquin, now I
shall drive my old Friends and bonne customers de English. Vive le Roi
et le Poste Royale.’
Rowlandson plagiarised Gillray by almost slavishly copying ‘Death
of the Corsican Fox’ (Vol. I. p. 204), only he substituted Blücher
for George the Third, and changed the names on the dogs’ collars to
_Wellington_, _Swartzenberg_, Kutusoff, Duke of York, and Crown Prince.
This etching is called ‘Coming in at the death of the Corsican fox.
Scene the Last’ (April 12, 1814).
‘A Grand Manœuvre! or, the Rogues march to the Island of Elba,’ G.
Cruikshank (April 13, 1814). Here Napoleon is shewn weeping bitterly at
his own disgrace. His hands are bound behind him, his tattered uniform
is put on wrong side in front, his boots have no soles nor toes, and
his spurs are strapped in front; some _gamins_ are tugging at a halter
which is round his neck, and are dragging him to a boat, in which sits
the Devil, waiting for him; Talleyrand is doing all in his power to
expedite matters by pushing him behind with an ‘Allied broom,’ and he
goes to his doom amidst universal execrations. The little King of Rome
is in one of his coat-tail pockets, and calls out, ‘By Gar, Papa, I
have von _grand manœuvre_ in your pocket.’
[Illustration: THE ROGUE’S MARCH.]
‘The Rogue’s March’ is by Rowlandson (April 15, 1814),
From fickle Fortune’s gamesome lap
What various titles flow;
The Emperor of Conj’rors Nap,
The King of Beggars, Joe!
a portion of which is reproduced. Blücher is dragging Napoleon and his
brother, who are handcuffed, and on a placard which he bears on his
shoulder is inscribed ‘Napoleon, late Emperor of the French, King of
Italy, Protector of the Confederation of the Rhine, Grand Arbiter of
the fate of Nations, &c. &c. &c., but now, by the permission of the
Allied Sovereigns, Exile in the Isle of Elba, an outcast from Society,
a fugitive, a vagabond. Yet this is the conceited mortal who said,
I have never been seduced by prosperity--Adversity will not be able
to overcome me.’ In the background drummers are playing ‘The Rogue’s
March,’ and all the European Powers dancing round the old Bourbon flag,
on which is written ‘Rejoice O ye Kings, Vive le Roi!’
‘The Sorrows of Boney, or Meditations in the Island of Elba!!!’ (April
15, 1814) shews the disconsolate Emperor, seated on the rocky isle,
weeping copiously, and staring anxiously at the Continent of Europe
which is so well guarded by ships. This engraving did former duty as
‘Crocodile’s tears’ (see Vol. I. p. 241).
On April 17, 1814, Rowlandson published ‘The Affectionate farewell,
or kick for kick,’ which gives us Talleyrand kicking Napoleon and
striking him with his crutch. ‘Va t’en Coquin, I’ll crack your Crown,
you pitiful vagabond.’ The fallen Emperor not only puts up with these
insults, but, turning round, says, ‘Votre très humble serviteur,
Monsieur Tally.’ His maimed soldiery call out, ‘Bone him, my tight
little Tally,’ and one even goes so far as to shout out, ‘What! let
him sneak off without a mark or a scratch! No, no, I’ll darken his
daylights for him.’
‘The Last March of the Conscripts, or Satan and his Satellites hurled
to the land of oblivion’ (April 17, 1814), represents Napoleon and his
brothers all chained together in a gang, heavily fettered, in tatters,
and being whipped by a most ferocious Cossack. To add to poor Boney’s
miseries, his little child is pulling at his coat-tails crying, ‘Didn’t
you promise me I should be a King?’ Talleyrand is rejoicing, and a
large box of crowns and sceptres is labelled, ‘To the right owners.’
‘A delicate finish to a French Usurper’ is by T. N. (April 20, 1814),
although Mr. Grego places it as one of Rowlandson’s--who possibly may
have etched it.
Boney, Canker of our joys,
Now thy tyrant reign is o’er;
Fill the Merry Bowl, my Boys,
Join in Bacchanalian roar.
Seize the villain, plunge him in;
See, the hated miscreant dies.
Mirth and all thy train come in,
Banish sorrow, tears, and sighs.
This represents Bonaparte, seated on a throne of skulls and bones, very
ill indeed. His crown of tyranny has fallen off and is broken, and he
is in the act of disgorging ‘The Throne of France,’ having already
done so with Holland, Rome, Portugal, &c.--in fact, all his previous
successes: nay, the very bees are flying away from off his imperial
mantle. Time is putting an extinguisher on his head; whilst the Duke of
Wellington, the Emperor Alexander, he of Austria, and the Crown Prince,
stand looking at Blücher, who is administering his ‘black draught’
to the patient. Three dancing females--two of them holding a shield
charged with the Bourbon lilies over the head of the third--typify the
joy of France at the Emperor’s downfall and Louis the Eighteenth’s
accession to the throne.
‘Boney at Elba--or, a Madman’s Amusement’ (April 20, 1814), is a very
characteristic caricature.
So high he’s mounted on his airy Throne,
That now the wind has got into his Head,
And turns his brains to Frenzy.
Bonaparte, crowned with a straw crown, and wielding a straw sceptre, is
setting light to a straw cannon, with which he is supposed to be aiming
at straw dummies of Russia, Prussia, Austria, and Sweden. The cannon
naturally catches alight, and his army (one corporal) calls out, ‘Ah!
Diable, mais you was burn Le Materiel, you burn your playtings.’ The
mad monarch, however, persists, and replies, ‘Now these fellows shall
know what the Conqueror of the World can do ---- Corporal! D---- you
Sir! don’t you blow up the Bridge till I order you.’
[Illustration: BONEY AT ELBA--OR, A MADMAN’S AMUSEMENT.]
‘“Cruce dignus,” the Grand Menagerie, with an exact representation of
NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,[41] the little Corsican monkey, as he may probably
appear at the island of Elba,’ is a reproduction of the engraving by
Lee in 1803 of ‘Pidcock’s Grand Menagerie,’ and, as the letterpress is
almost identical, it is not worth giving again (published April 20,
1814).
The following broadside was published April 23, 1814, price 3_d._:--
_Cruce Dignus_
EPITAPH
_Underneath a_ GIBBET _over a_ DUNGHILL _at_ ELBA.
Underneath this Dunghill
Is all that remains of a mighty Conqueror
NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE,[42].
Who, with inflexible Cruelty of Heart,
And unexampled Depravity of Mind,
Was permitted to scourge the Earth, for a Time,
With all the Horrors of War.
Too ignorant and incapable to do good to Mankind
The whole force of his mind was employed
In oppressing the weak, and plundering the industrious.
He was equally detested by all:
His enemies he butchered in cold blood:
And, fearing to leave incomplete the Catalogue of his Crimes,
His friends he rewarded with a poisoned Chalice.
He was an Epitome
Of all that was vicious in the worst of Tyrants;
He possess’d their Cruelty, without their Talents;
Their Madness without their Genius;
The Baseness of one, and the Imbecility of another.
Providence at last,
Wearied out with his Crimes,
Returned him to the Dunghill from which he sprung,
BRITON!
Ere you pass by,
Kneel and thank thy God,
For all the Blessings of thy glorious Constitution;
Then return into the peaceful Bosom of thy Family, and continue
In the practice of those Virtues
By which thy Ancestors
Have obtained the Favor of the Almighty.
[Illustration: BROKEN GINGERBREAD.]
_Tiddy doll_, the gingerbread manufacturer, is once more introduced
into caricature (April 21, 1814): ‘Broken Gingerbread (_G. H. inv^t--G.
Cruikshank fec^t_). Napoleon is at Elba, in an extremely dilapidated
condition; a wretched thatched hut has on it a board painted, ‘Tiddy
Doll, Gingerbread baker. N.B.--Removed from Paris.’ On his head he
carries a tray of broken gingerbread, and calls out, ‘Buy my Images!
Here’s my nice little gingerbread Emperors and Kings, retail and for
exportation.’ In the background can be seen the coast of France, on
which the people are rejoicing and dancing round a flag, ‘Vivent les
Bourbons!’
‘The Hellbaronian/Elbaronian Emperor going to take possession of his
new Territory’ (April 23, 1814), by G. H., engraved by G. Cruikshank.
Here Napoleon, ragged and heavily fettered, is in an iron cage, which
is drawn by a mounted Cossack. Others surround and guard him, and we
can well understand the captive’s ejaculatory ‘Oh--d--n these Cossacks.’
[Illustration]
‘Nap dreading his doleful Doom or his grand entry into the Isle of
Elba’ (April 25, 1814), represents the exiled Emperor at the moment
of his landing. He has just been put ashore in a small boat, and his
slender luggage, which is guarded by his solitary follower, a Mameluke,
is deposited on the shore. With one hand in the breast of his coat, and
the other thrust deep into his breeches pocket, suffering, too, from
the impertinent inquisitiveness of the natives, it is no wonder that he
appears downcast, and says, ‘Ah, Woe is me, seeing what I have, and
seeing what I see.’ He is, however, tried to be comforted by a blowsy
bumboat woman, who, offering him her long clay pipe, pats him on the
back with ‘Come cheer up my little Nicky, I’ll be your Empress.’
George Cruikshank (May 1, 1814) gives us ‘Snuffing out Boney,’ an
operation which is being performed by a gigantic Cossack.
[Illustration]
Hardly a caricature, is a picture attributed to Rowlandson (May 1,
1814), in which is depicted Napoleon’s throne overturned, together with
his crown and sceptre. The Devil himself is clutching Napoleon, who is
terrified at the heavenly apparition of a hand holding a flaming sword,
and the legend, ‘Thou ’rt doom’d to Pain, at which the Damn’d will
tremble, and take their own for Joys.’ This etching is called ‘The
Tyrant of the Continent is fallen. Europe is free. England Rejoices.
_Empire and Victory be all forsaken_; _To Plagues_, Poverty, Disgrace,
and Shame. Strip me of all my Dignities and Crowns. Take, O Take your
sceptres back, Spare me but life!’