NAPOLEON’S ESCAPE FROM ELBA--UNIVERSAL CONSTERNATION--FLIGHT OF
THE BRITISH FROM FRANCE--CARICATURES ON HIS RETURN.
A somewhat elaborate caricature is by George Cruikshank (January 1815),
and is entitled ‘Twelfth Night, or What you Will! now performing at
the Theatre Royal Europe, with new Scenery, decorations, &c., &c.,
&c.’ It represents a theatre, on the stage of which sit Wellington,
Austria, Russia, and Prussia. The former has been dividing an enormous
Twelfth Cake, with the help of a huge knife and Britannia’s trident.
Austria simply takes the whole of Germany, and remarks, ‘I shall get
my piece cut as large as I can. I don’t think it is large enough.’
Russia, who is not content with his huge piece of Russia in Europe,
puts his hand on Poland, and, turning to a Pole, who is drawing his
sword, says: ‘Here brother, take possession of this piece, I think
I can manage them both; besides, this has more plumbs on it, which
will mix with mine.’ Prussia, besides his own country, lays hands on
Saxony, exclaiming: ‘If I add this Saxon piece to my Prussian one,
and put the figure of an Emperor on it, I think my share will look
respectable.’ Wellington, however, reflects, ‘I have been assisting to
divide the Cake, but I don’t much like my office, the Gentlemen seem so
dissatisfied.’ Bernadotte comforts himself with ‘Now I have got Norway,
I can get a wind to blow which way I please.’ Louis the Eighteenth and
a Dutchman are in a private box; and in one of the stage-boxes is John
Bull and his dog, the former of whom shakes hands with and welcomes an
American Indian, saying, ‘I hope you won’t disturb the peace.’ In the
opposite box are two Turks and a Hungarian; whilst in the box above
is Spain, his crown stuck all over with gallows, and attended by a
fearful-looking Jesuit, reading from a ‘list of Prisoners to be hung
for supporting a free Constitution.’ The other Powers are on their
knees on the stage, abjectly begging, ‘Pray, Gentlemen, spare us a few
of the small pieces, for we are almost starving.’
Napoleon was still at Elba, and Europe was enjoying a fool’s
paradise, as cannot be better shown than by a quotation from Rogers’s
‘Recollections’ (if reliable): ‘When Buonaparte left Elba for France,
I (the Duke of Wellington) was at Vienna, and received the news from
Lord Burghersh, our Minister at Florence. The instant it came, I
communicated it to every member of the Congress, and all laughed; the
Emperor of Russia most of all.’
Doubtless they thought themselves secure, for they left Elba unguarded
in the most singular manner. As Napoleon told O’Meara: ‘I do not
believe that Castlereagh thought I should have ventured to leave Elba,
as otherwise some frigates would have been stationed about the island.
If they had kept a frigate in the harbour, and another outside, it
would have been impossible for me to have gone to France, except alone,
which I would never have attempted. Even if the King of France had
ordered a frigate, with a picked crew, to cruise off the island, it
would have prevented me.’
Napoleon did not leave Elba till February 26, nor did he land at Cannes
till March 1, when the news of his landing spread like wildfire.
The ‘Times’ of March 11 says: ‘Early yesterday morning we received
by express from Dover, the important, but lamentable intelligence,
of a civil war having been again kindled in France, by that wretch
Buonaparte, whose life was so impoliticly spared by the Allied
Sovereigns. It now appears that the hypocritical villain, who, at the
time of his cowardly abdication, affected an aversion to the shedding
of blood in a civil warfare, has been employed during the whole time of
his residence at Elba, in carrying on secret and treasonable intrigues
with the tools of his former crimes in France,’ &c.
The caricaturists soon fastened on this event, which fell upon Europe
like a thunderbolt, and some time in March was published ‘The Devil
to pay, or Boney’s return from Hell Bay/Elba, 25 Feb. 1815,’ by I. L.
Marks. Napoleon is crossing the sea in a boat filled with soldiers,
rowed by the Devil, and steered by Death. He sees the dove of peace,
and immediately kills it with his pistol, saying, ‘Away from my sight,
Peace, Thou art hateful to me.’ The Devil opines, ‘We shall wade
through seas of Blood after this;’ and Death, waving a tricoloured flag
on his dart, says, ‘A more expert hand at my Trade does not exist.’ The
populace are running to the shore to meet their returned Emperor with
effusion, whilst poor gouty Louis is being carried away on pickaback,
lamenting, ‘Oh Heartwell,[51] I sigh for thy peacefull Shades.’
I. L. Marks drew ‘1 Mar. 1815. The European Pantomime. Princeaple
Caracters Harliquin Mr. Boney. Pantaloon Louis XVIII. Columbine Maria
Louiza. Clowns &c. by Congress.’ Here Napoleon is making a terrific
leap from Elba to the French coast, where the poor pantaloon, all
gouty, shakes his crutch in impotent rage. The Empress and her
little son welcome him, and Congress is represented by the different
sovereigns of Europe, who are in a tent; Russia pointing to a globe in
the midst of them.
Here is a somewhat homely, but contemporary, account of how the news of
Napoleon’s escape was received in London:--
Twang went the horn! ‘confound that noise!’
I cried, in pet--‘these plaguy boys
Are at some tricks to sell their papers,
Their _blasts_ have given me the _vapours_!’
But all my senses soon were stranded,
At hearing ‘Buonaparte’s landed!’
‘Landed in France!’ so ran the strain,
And ‘with eleven hundred men.’
‘Ho, post!’ ‘Who calls?’ ‘This way.’ ‘I’m coming!’
‘The public surely he is humming,’
Said I. ‘A paper--what’s the price?’
‘A shilling.’ ‘Why, that’s payment twice!’
‘As _cheap as dirt_, your honour, quite;
They’ve sold for half a crown to-night.’
‘But is the News authentic, friend?’
‘_Ofishul_, sir, you may depend.--
The _Currier_, third edition.’ ‘So!
Well, take your money, boy, and go.’
Now for the news--by what strange blunder
Has he escaped his bounds, I wonder.
The flight of the British who were in France, upon hearing the news
of Napoleon’s landing, is amusingly shown in ‘Hell broke loose or
the John Bulls made Jack Asses,’ which is the euphonious title of a
caricature by G. Cruikshank, published March 20, 1815. In it we see
depicted the flight of Louis the Eighteenth and all the English then
resident in Paris. They are departing in fearful haste, and by all
kinds of conveyances. One reflects, ‘How they will laugh at us at home
for being so fond of spending our Money in Foreign Countries.’ Another
complains, ‘Oh dear, Oh! dear, I have left all my valuables in Paris.
I wish I had never brought my prosperity into France.’ One man, gouty,
is being dragged along in a go-cart. Three men are mounted on a cow,
whilst another holds on by its tail; whilst those on horseback, or in
carriages, are having their quadrupeds and vehicles requisitioned,
‘Me vant de horse to meet my old master Boney.’ ‘We want de coach to
join de grand Emperor; we teach you now to recover our lost honour and
fight like devils.’ Napoleon, at the head of his army, says, ‘Aye, Aye,
I shall catch some of the John Bulls, and I’ll make them spend their
money, and their time, too, in France.’
‘Boney’s Return from Elba, or the Devil among the Tailors (G. H. inv^t
etched by G. Cruikshank, 21 March, 1815)’ is indeed a scare. Before
describing the picture, it would be as well to read the following lines
which are at its foot:--
Hush’d was the din of Arms and fierce debate,
Janus once more had clos’d his Temple gate;
Assembled Congress fix’d the flattering Plan,
For Europe’s safety, and the Peace of Man.
When, like a Tiger, stealing from his den,
And gorg’d with blood, yet seeking blood again;
From Elba’s Isle the Corsican came forth,
Making his sword the measure of his worth.
Hence plunder, force, & cunning blast his fame,
And sink the Hero in the Robber’s name;
Hence guiltless Louis from the throne is hurl’d,
And discord reigns triumphant o’er the world.
Swift as the vivid lightning’s shock,
The Exile darts from Elba’s Rock!
And like the Thunderbolt of fate
Dethrones a King! transforms a State!
Bonaparte, suddenly leaping from Elba, enters at an open window,
knocking off the board, on which he had been sitting, the unlucky Louis
the Eighteenth, who lies prone on the floor, crying, ‘Help, help!
Oh! I am knocked off my Perch.’ John Bull goes to his assistance,
comforting him with, ‘Never fear old boy, I’ll help you up again; as
for that rascal Boney, I’ll sew him up presently.’ Boney, meanwhile, is
calmly seated on the tailor’s bench, saying, ‘Dont disturb yourselves,
shopmates, I have only popped myself here as a cutter out. Where is my
wife and son, Father Francis?’ Trembling Austria, goose in one hand,
scissors in the other, says, ‘I will send an answer shortly.’ Terrified
Holland exclaims, ‘Donder and Blizen dat is de Devil!’ Russia, pointing
to a knout, says, ‘I’ll take a few Cossack _measures_ to him.’ Old
Blücher, with a huge pair of shears, advances to Napoleon, exclaiming,
‘Cutter out indeed!!! Yes, Yes, I’ll cut you out, Master Boney.’
Prussia, still seated, sewing, thinks, ‘You have cut out a little
work for us to be sure, but d---- me if you shall be foreman here.’
Bernadotte opines that ‘This looks like another subsidy.’ Talleyrand
is hiding himself under the bench; and the poor Pope, sprawling on the
floor, forgets all Christian charity and language, and cries out, ‘Oh!
curse the fellow, I wish I had the power of a _Bull_, I’d kick him to
_Hell_. D--n me if it isn’t enough to make a saint swear.’
‘A Review of the New Grand Army’ (artist unnamed, March 1815) shows, in
the background, a host of very tattered troops. In front is Napoleon,
_the aghast Emperor_, and _his two friends and Pillars of the State_,
Death and the Devil. On one side of him is a _Captain of Starved
Banditti from the Alps_, whose aim and object is plunder, and he acts
as aide-de-camp; whilst a ferocious _Butcher from Elba_, reeking
knife, and halter, in either hand, guards his other side, and acts as
generalissimo. In a flood of light over Napoleon’s head appears the
_Dæmon of War presiding over the Tyrant_, bearing in one hand a flag,
inscribed ‘We come to redress Grievances,’ and with the other pointing
to ‘_Boundless Ambition_.’
G. Cruikshank etched (April 4, 1815) ‘The Genius of France expounding
her Laws to the Sublime People.’ An enormous monkey, his tail
ornamented with tricoloured bows, unfolds a tricoloured scroll, which
a lot of much smaller monkeys are reading. It is ‘The French Code of
Laws.--Ye shall be vain, fickle, and foolish--Ye shall kill your King
one day, and crown his relative the next.--You shall get tired of Him
in a few weeks--and recal a TYRANT, who has made suffering humanity
bleed at every pore--because it will be truly _Nouvelle_--Lastly,
ye shall abolish and destroy all virtuous Society and worship the
DEVIL.--As for Europe, or that little dirty Nation, the English, let
them be d--d. FRANCE, the GREAT NATION, against the whole WORLD.’
‘The Congress dissolved before the _Cake_ was cut’ is the title of an
etching by G. Cruikshank (dated April 6, 1815), in which the sovereigns
are seated round an enormous cake of Europe, which they were going
to cut up and divide, but are startled by the sudden apparition of
Napoleon, who, with drawn sword, strides into the room, trampling on
the _decrees of the Congress, An account of the Deliverance of Europe_,
and _a plan for the security of Europe_. The Dutchman falls off his
stool, and spills his bottle of Hollands: ‘Oh! Donder and Blizen, my
Hollands is all gone,’ is his consolatory reflection. Russia starts
up with ‘Who the Devil expected you here,--this is _mal à propos_.’
Prussia ‘Thought England had promised to guard him.’ Austria, in
terror, yells out for somebody to ‘hold him, seize him.’ The Pope
pathetically laments, ‘Oh dear, oh dear, what will become of me?’
Bernadotte shouts, ‘Seize him, Kill him’; but Poland, with folded arms,
calmly asks, ‘Who’ll begin? there’s the Rub!!!’ The only one of the
whole of them who has any presence of mind is Wellington, who jumps
alertly to his feet and draws his sword.
[Illustration: THE FLIGHT OF BONAPARTE FROM HELL-BAY.]
‘The flight of Bonaparte from Hell-Bay’ is by Rowlandson (April 7,
1815). It represents the arch-fiend, seated in his own peculiar
dominions, engaged in blowing bubbles, on one of which he has mounted
Napoleon, and sent him once more aloft, to the intense delight of
admiring devils.
Rowlandson etched ‘Hell Hounds rallying round the Idol of France’
(April 8, 1815), which certainly is not a pleasant picture. A colossal
bust of Napoleon, with a halter round his neck, is mounted on a pyramid
of human heads, and around him, to testify their delight at his return,
are dancing Savary, Fouché, Caulaincourt, Vandamme, Davoust, Ney, and
Lefèbre. Devils, who say ‘He deserves a crown of pitch,’ are bringing
one already alight. The foreground is strewn with corpses.
‘Vive le Roi! vive l’Empereur! vive le Diable! French Constancy, French
Integrity’ (date uncertain, but some time in April 1815) is credited
to Rowlandson. A French soldier, musket in one hand, snuff-box in the
other, has three different knots of ribbon in his hat--a red one, ‘Vive
le Diable!’ a white one, ‘Vive le Roi!’ and a tricoloured one, Vive
l’Empereur!’ A windmill typifies French stability, and a monkey and
cat, embracing and fondling, show ‘French union between the National
Guard and troops of the Line.’
On April 12, 1815, was published an etching, not signed, but accredited
to Rowlandson, ‘Scene in a New Pantomime to be performed at the
Theatre Royal, Paris. With entire new Music, Dances, Dresses, Scenery,
Machinery, &c. The principal Characters to be supported by most of the
great Potentates of Europe. Harlequin by M^r Napoleon. Clown by King
Wirtemberg. Pantaloon, Emperor of Austria. To conclude with a comic
song to be sung by the Pope, and a Grand Chorus by the crown’d heads.’
In this caricature we see Napoleon, habited as harlequin, a dagger in
each hand, leaping into the unknown, through a ‘practicable’ portrait
of ‘Louis le bien aimé.’ He is pursued by all the European Powers.
Clown fires two pistols at him, but overthrows Spain, who has just
drawn his sword. Russia pricks him in the rear with a lance. Holland
and Prussia are firing at him; whilst some one is taking down from the
wall the portrait of the Empress as Columbine.
In horrible taste is Rowlandson’s picture of ‘The Corsican and his
Bloodhounds at the Window of the Thuilleries, looking over Paris’
(April 16, 1815). The scene is a balcony, in which are Napoleon and
some of his marshals. The balcony is inscribed ‘More horrors, Death
and Destruction.’ The Devil is hugging Ney and Napoleon, and Death is
pointing to the streets of Paris, where is a surging mob, with heads on
pikes, &c.
[Illustration: THE CORSICAN’S LAST TRIP.]
‘The Corsican’s last trip under the guidance of his Good Angel’ (April
16, 1815) has no artist’s name attached. It represents Bonaparte, and
the Devil, taking a prodigious leap from Elba, to the throne, and
sovereign power.
‘The Phenix of Elba resuscitated by Treason’ is by G. Cruikshank (May
1, 1815), and is a very elaborate plate. A witch, whose hands drop
gore, presides over the resuscitation, saying, ‘Rise, Spirit, that can
never rest, sweet Bloodthirsty Soul! Offspring of Treason! come forth.’
Obedient to her exorcisms, the Phœnix (Napoleon) rises from a caldron,
exclaiming, ‘Veni, Vidi, Vici!’ Around the caldron gleefully dance the
marshals of the Empire, singing, ‘Ah! ha! by gar, now we shall begin
our Bloody work again;’ and in the heavens is shown a genius, having a
crown and sceptre in one hand, and a guillotine in the other, who says,
‘Rise, rise, thou favor’d son of Fate! Death or a Diadem shall reward
thy labours.’
In one part of the picture is shown the Prince Regent indolently
reclining on a divan, a huge decanter by his side, the prime minister
presenting him with the news of the _Return of Boney to Paris_ and
the _Decision of Congress_: saying at the same time, ‘May it please
my Prince, but these are events we never calculated upon. I had no
objection to the sacrifice of Saxony to the ambition of Prussia: I had
no objection to the views of Alexander upon Poland: I had no objection
to the transfer of Norway to Sweden: I had no objection to the union
of Belgium with Holland: I had no objection to all these things; but
I could not foresee that the people would be dissatisfied and wish
for the return of Buonaparte--to which I have every objection.’ The
Regent, his eyes starting out of his head, exclaims, ‘How? shall I lose
Hanover? shall I lose all we have been fighting for?’
In another part is Solomon’s Temple, in which sit the Congress,
wrangling over the division of a huge cake. Gouty Louis the Eighteenth,
mounted on a donkey, is off, hard gallop, to Vienna, calling out, ‘Gee
up, Neddy--adieu to the Lily in the Violet season! adieu to my good
City of Paris!’ whilst Wellington, on horseback, is going full speed to
Belgium.