English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon I. Volume II (of 2)
Ansell gives us (May 28, 1804) ‘The Frog and the Ox, or The Emperor of the Gulls in his stolen gear.’ Napoleon, very small, is depicted as capering about in imperial robes, with an enormous crown made of coins, daggers, and a cup of poison; his sceptre has for its top a guillotine. George the Third is regarding him through his glass. Napoleon says, ‘There Brother! there! I shall soon be as Big as you, it’s a real Crown, but it’s cursed heavy, my Head begins to ache already. I say Can’t we have a grand meeting like Henry the 8th and Francis the 1st?’ King George cannot quite make out the mannikin. ‘What have we got here, eh? A fellow that has stolen some Dollars, and made a Crown of them, eh? and then wants to pass them off for Sterling; it won’t go, it won’t pass Fellow.’ Beside the King is a bull, and behind Napoleon is a frog, who is trying to swell to the bull’s proportions, whilst John Bull laughingly remarks, ‘Dang it, why a looks as tho a’d burst: a’l nerr be zo big as one of our Oxen tho.’
‘Injecting blood Royal, or Phlebotomy at St. Cloud,’ shews Napoleon, in his new phase of power, having the blood of a Royal Tiger infused into his veins. He says, ‘It’s a delightful operation! I feel the Citizenship oozing out at my fingers’ ends. – let all the family be plentifully supplied! Carry up a Bucket full to the Empress immediately!!!’
In June 1804 I. Cruikshank drew a picture called ‘the Right Owner.’ Louis the Eighteenth appears to Napoleon, and, pointing to his crown, says, ‘That’s Mine.’ Napoleon, who is seated on his throne, armed with sword, pistols, and dagger, shrinks back in violent alarm, exclaiming, ‘Angels and Ministers of Grace defend me.’
‘A Proposal from the New Emperor’ is a caricature by Ansell (July 9, 1804). He comes, cap, or rather crown, in hand, to John Bull, saying, ‘My Dear Cousin Bull – I have a request to make you – the good people whom I govern, have been so lavish of their favors towards me – that they have exhausted every title in the Empire – therefore, in addition, I wish you to make me a Knight of Malta.’ John Bull replies, ‘I’ll see you d – d first!! You know I told you so before.’
‘The Imperial Coronation’ is a very inartistic sketch by an unknown artist (July 31, 1804). Napoleon is being crowned by the Pope, who says, ‘In a little time you shall see him, and in a little time you shall not see him,’ and then lets down the crown, with cruel force, by a rope and pulley from the gibbet from which it has been suspended. Its weight crushes him through the platform on which he has been sitting, and he exclaims, ‘My dear Talleyrand, save me; My throne is giving way. I am afraid the foundation is rotten, and wants a deal of mending.’ Talleyrand sympathisingly answers, ‘Oh, Master, Master, the Crown is too heavy for you.’
I. Cruikshank drew ‘Harlequin’s last Skip’ (August 23, 1804). Bonaparte is represented in a harlequin’s suit, enormous cocked hat, boots, and a blackened face. His sword is broken, and, with upraised hands, in a supplicating attitude, he exclaims, ‘O Sacre Dieu! John Bull is de very Devil.’ John Bull, with upraised cudgel, says: ‘Mr. Boney Party, you have changed Characters pretty often and famously well, and skipped about at a precious rate. But this Invasion hop is your last – we have got you snug – the devil a trap to get through here – Your conjuration sword has lost its Power; you have lied till you are black in the face, and there is no believing a word you say – so now you shall carry John Bull’s mark about with you, as every swaggerer should.’
‘British men of war towing in the Invader’s Fleet,’ artist unknown (September 25, 1804), shows a number of English sailors seated on the necks of French and Dutch men, whom they are guiding over the sea to England. One sailor, evidently a Scotchman, is pulling his opponent’s ears; the poor Frenchman cries out, ‘Oh Morbleu! de salt water make me sick; O mine pauvre Ears!’ but his ruthless conqueror has no pity, ‘Deil tak your soul, ye lubberly Loon, gin ye dinna mak aw sail, I’ll twist off your lugs.’ An English sailor rides the redoubtable Boney, and pulls his nose: ‘Steady Master Emperor, if you regard your Imperial Nose. Remember a British Tar has you in tow – No more of this wonderful, this great and mighty nation who frighten all the world with their buggabo invasion.’ But Boney pleads, ‘Oh! mercy, take me back, me will make you all Emperors; it will be Boney here, Boney there, and Boney everywhere, and me wish to my heart me was dead.’ An Irish sailor on a Dutchman yells out, ‘By Jasus, my Jewel, these bum boats are quizzical toys and sure – heave ahead, you bog trotting spalpeen, or I shall be after keel hauling you. Huzza, Huzza, Huzza, my boys, Huzza! ’Tis Britannia boys, Britannia rules the waves.’ Another Dutchman complains, ‘O Mynheer Jan English you vill break my back.’ But the relentless sailor who bestrides him takes out his tobacco-box, and says, ‘Now for a quid of comfort! pretty gig for Jack Tars. Good bye to your bombast, we’re going to Dover, Was ever poor Boney, so fairly done over.’
A most remarkable caricature by Ansell (October 25, 1804) shows to what length party spirit will lead men – making truth entirely subservient to party purposes. It probably paid to vilify Napoleon, and consequently this picture was produced. It is called ‘Boney’s Inquisition. Another Specimen of his Humanity on the person of Madame Toussaint.’ Whatever may be our opinion of his treatment of Toussaint l’Ouverture, the only record we have in history (and I have expended much time and trouble in trying to find out the truth of the matter) is that his family, who were brought to France at the same time as himself, took up their residence at Agen, where his wife died in 1816. His eldest son, Isaac, died at Bordeaux in 1850. Now to describe the picture. Madame l’Ouverture is depicted as being bound to a stretcher nearly naked, whilst three Frenchmen are tearing her breasts with red-hot pincers. Another is pulling out her finger-nails with a similar instrument. She exclaims: ‘Oh Justice! Oh Humanity, Oh Deceitfull Villain, in vain you try to blot the Character of the English: ’tis their magnanimity which harrasses your dastard soul.’ One of the torturers says: ‘Eh! Diable! Why you no confess noting?’ Napoleon is seated on his throne, watching the scene with evident delight, chuckling to himself, ‘This is Luxury. Jaffa, Acre, Toulon and D’Enghien was nothing to it. Slave, those pincers are not half hot, save those nails for my Cabinet, and if she dies, we can make a confession for her.’
‘The Genius of France nursing her darling’ is by a new hand, T. B. d – lle (November 26, 1804). ‘France, whilst dandling her darling, and amusing him with a rattle, sings —
There’s a little King PippinHe shall have a Rattle and Crown;Bless thy five Wits,2 my Baby,Mind it don’t throw itself down!Hey my Kitten, my Kitten, &c.An unknown artist (December 11, 1804) gives us ‘The death of Madame Republique.’ Madame lies a corpse on her bed. Sieyès, as nurse, dandles the new emperor. John Bull, spectacles on nose, inquires, ‘Pray Mr. Abbé Sayes – what was the cause of the poor lady’s Death? She seem’d at one time in a tolerable thriving way.’ Sieyès replies, ‘She died in Child bed, Mr. Bull, after giving birth to this little Emperor.’
‘The Loyalist’s Alphabet, an Original Effusion,’ by James Bisset (September 3, 1804), consists of twenty-four small engravings, each in a lozenge.
‘A, stands for Albion’s Isle,’ – Britannia seated.
‘B, for brave Britons renown’d.’ – A soldier and sailor shaking hands.
‘C, for a Corsican tyrant,’ – Napoleon, with a skull, the guillotine, &c., in the background.
‘D, his dread downfall must sound.’ – Being hurled from his throne by lightning.
‘E, for embattl’d we stand,’ – A troop of soldiers.
‘F, ’gainst the French our proud Foes,’ – shews England guarded by her ships,’ and the flotilla coming over.
‘G, for our glorious Gunners,’ – Three artillerymen, and a cannon.
‘H, for Heroical blows,’ – shews a ship being blown up.
‘I, for Invasion once stood,’ – Some soldiers carousing. The English flag above the tricolour.
‘J, proves ’twas all a mere Joke.’ – A soldier laughing heartily, and holding his sides.
‘K, for a favorite King, to deal against Knaves a great stroke. – Medallion of George the Third.
‘L, stands for Liberties’ laws,’ – A cap of liberty, mitre, pastoral staff, crown, and open book.
‘M, Magna Charta’s strong chain.’ – A soldier, sailor, Highlander, and civilian, joining hands.
‘N, Noble Nelson, whom Neptune, near Nile crown’d the Lord of the Main,’ – is a portrait of the Hero.
‘O, stands for Britain’s fam’d Oak,’ – which is duly portrayed.
‘P, for each brave British Prince.’ – The three feathers show the Prince of Wales, in volunteer uniform.
‘Q, never once made a Question, Respecting the Deeds they’d evince,’ – is an officer drawing his sword.
‘If R, for our Rights takes the field,’ – is a yeomanry volunteer.
‘Or S, should a signal display,’ – The British Standard.
‘They’d each call with T for the Trumpet. To Horse my brave boys and away.’ – A mounted Trumpeter.
‘U, for United, we stand, V for our bold Volunteers,’ – represents one of the latter.
‘Whom W welcomes in War, and joins loyal X in three Cheers.’ – A soldier and sailor, with hands clasped, cheering.
‘With Y all our Youths sally forth, the standards of Freedom advance,’ – is a cannon between two standards.
‘With Z proving Englishmen’s Zeal, to humble the Zany of France,’ – shews Napoleon with a fool’s cap on, chained to the wall in a cell.
CHAPTER XL
NAPOLEON’S CORONATIONNapoleon’s coronation was the great event of the year; but some time before it was consummated the English caricaturist took advantage of it, and J. B. (West), in September 1804, produced a ‘Design for an Imperial Crown to be used at the Coronation of the New Emperor.’ A perusal of the foregoing pages will render any explanation unnecessary.
Napoleon omitted no ceremony which could enhance the pageant of his coronation. The Pope must be present: no meaner ecclesiastic should hallow this rite, and he was gently invited to come to Paris for this purpose. Poor Pius VII. had very little option in the matter. His master wanted him, and he must needs go; but Napoleon gilded the chain which drew him. During the whole of his journey he was received with the greatest reverence, and could hardly have failed to have been impressed with the great care and attention paid to him. For instance, the dangerous places in the passage of the Alps were protected by parapets, so that his Holiness should incur no danger. On his arrival at Paris he was lodged in the Tuileries, and a very delicate attention was paid him – his bedchamber was fitted as a counterpart of his own in the palace of Monte-Cavallo, at Rome.
The eventful 2nd of December came at last; but, before we note the ceremony itself, we must pause awhile to see how the English caricaturist treated the procession.
Hardly any one of Gillray’s caricatures (January 1, 1805) is as effective as ‘The Grand Coronation Procession of Napoleone the 1st, Emperor of France, from the Church of Notre Dame, Dec. 2nd, 1804. Redeunt Satania regna, Iam nova progenies cœlo demittitur alto!’ Huge bodies of troops form the background, whose different banners are – a comet setting the world ablaze; an Imperial crown and the letters SPQN; un Dieu, un Napoleon; a serpent biting its tail, surrounding a crowned N. and a Sun, ‘Napoleone ye 1st le Soleil de la Constitution.’
The procession is headed by ‘His Imperial Highness Prince Louis Buonaparte Marbœuf’ (a delicate hint as to his paternity), ‘High Constable of the Empire,’ who, theatrically dressed, struts, carrying a drum-major’s staff fashioned like a sceptre. Behind him come ‘The Three Imperial Graces, viz. their Imp. High. Princess Borghese, Princess Louis (cher amie of ye Emperor) & Princess Joseph Bonaparte.’ These ladies are clad in a most diaphanous costume, which leaves little of their forms to the imagination, and they occupy themselves by scattering flowers as they pass along.
After them comes ‘Madame Talleyrand (ci-devant Mrs. Halhead the Prophetess),’ a stout, Jewish-looking woman, who is ‘Conducting the Heir Apparent in ye Path of Glory’ – and a most precocious little imp it looks. After them hobbles ‘Talleyrand Perigord, Prime Minister and King at Arms, bearing the Emperor’s Genealogy,’ which begins with ‘Buone Butcher,’ goes on with ‘Bonny Cuckold,’ till it reaches the apex of ‘Boney Emperor.’ Pope Pius VII. follows, and under his cope is the devil disguised as an acolyte, bearing a candle; Cardinal Fesch is by, and acts as thurifer. The incense is in clouds: ‘Les Addresses des Municipalités de Paris – Les Adorations des Badauds – Les Hommages des Canailles – Les Admirations des Fous – Les Congratulations des Grenouilles – Les Humilités des Poltrons.’
Then comes the central figures of the pageant, ‘His Imperial Majesty Napoleone ye 1st and the Empress Josephine,’ the former scowling ferociously, the latter looking blowsy, and fearfully stout. Three harridans, ‘ci-devant Poissardes,’ support her train, whilst that of Napoleon is borne by a Spanish don, an Austrian hussar, and a Dutchman, whose tattered breeches testify to his poverty. These are styled ‘Puissant Continental Powers – Train Bearers to the Emperor.’ Following them come ‘Berthier, Bernadotte, Angerou, and all the brave Train of Republican Generals;’ but they are handcuffed, and their faces display, unmistakably, the scorn in which they hold their old comrade. Behind them poses a short corpulent figure, ‘Senator Fouché, Intendant General of ye Police, bearing the Sword of Justice.’ But Fouché is not content with this weapon. His other hand grasps an assassin’s dagger, and both it, and the sword, are well imbrued in blood. The rear of the procession is made up of a ‘Garde d’Honneur,’ which consists of a gaoler with the keys of the Temple and a set of fetters; a mouchard with his report, ‘Espionnage de Paris;’ Monsieur de Paris, the executioner, bears a coil of rope with a noose, and a banner with a representation of the guillotine – and a prisoner, holding aloft two bottles respectively labelled Arsenic and Opium. More banners and more soldiers fill up the background.
What a sight that must have been on the morning of the 2nd of December! Visitors from all parts of France were there; and the cathedral of Notre-Dame must have presented a gorgeous coup d’œil, with its splendid ecclesiastical vestments, its magnificent uniforms, and the beautiful dresses and jewels of the ladies. It can hardly be imagined, so had better be described in the words of an eyewitness, Madame Junot.3
‘Who that saw Notre-Dame on that memorable day, can ever forget it? I have witnessed in that venerable pile the celebration of sumptuous and solemn festivals; but never did I see anything at all approximating in splendour to the coup d’œil exhibited at Napoleon’s Coronation. The vaulted roof re-echoed the sacred chanting of the priests, who invoked the blessing of the Almighty on the ceremony about to be celebrated, while they awaited the arrival of the Vicar of Christ, whose throne was prepared near the altar. Along the ancient walls of tapestry were ranged, according to their rank, the different bodies of the State, the deputies from every City; in short, the representatives of all France assembled to implore the benediction of Heaven on the sovereign of the people’s choice. The waving plumes which adorned the hats of the Senators, Counsellors of State, and Tribunes; the splendid uniforms of the military; the clergy in all their ecclesiastical pomp; and the multitude of young and beautiful women, glittering in jewels, and arrayed in that style of grace and elegance which is only seen in Paris; – altogether presented a picture which has, perhaps, rarely been equalled, and certainly never excelled.
‘The Pope arrived first; and at the moment of his entering the Cathedral, the anthem Tu es Petrus was commenced. His Holiness advanced from the door with an air at once majestic and humble. Ere long, the firing of cannon announced the departure of the procession from the Tuileries. From an early hour in the morning the weather had been exceedingly unfavourable. It was cold and rainy, and appearances seemed to indicate that the procession would be anything but agreeable to those who joined it. But, as if by the especial favour of Providence, of which so many instances are observable in the career of Napoleon, the clouds suddenly dispersed, the sky brightened up, and the multitudes who lined the streets from the Tuileries to the Cathedral, enjoyed the sight of the procession, without being, as they had anticipated, drenched by a December rain. Napoleon, as he passed along, was greeted by heartfelt expressions of enthusiastic love and attachment.
‘On his arrival at Notre-Dame, Napoleon ascended the throne, which was erected in front of the grand altar. Josephine took her place beside him, surrounded by the assembled sovereigns of Europe. Napoleon appeared singularly calm. I watched him narrowly, with the view of discovering whether his heart beat more highly beneath the imperial trappings, than under the uniform of the guards; but I could observe no difference, and yet I was at the distance of only ten paces from him. The length of the ceremony, however, seemed to weary him; and I saw him several times check a yawn. Nevertheless, he did everything he was required to do, and did it with propriety. When the Pope anointed him with the triple unction on his head and both hands, I fancied, from the direction of his eyes, that he was thinking of wiping off the oil rather than of anything else; and I was so perfectly acquainted with the workings of his countenance, that I have no hesitation in saying that was really the thought that crossed his mind at that moment. During the ceremony of anointing, the Holy Father delivered that impressive prayer which concluded with these words: – “Diffuse, O Lord, by my hands, the treasures of your grace and benediction on your servant, Napoleon, whom, in spite of our personal unworthiness, we this day anoint Emperor, in your name.” Napoleon listened to this prayer with an air of pious devotion; but just as the Pope was about to take the crown, called the Crown of Charlemagne, from the altar, Napoleon seized it, and placed it on his own head. At that moment he was really handsome, and his countenance was lighted up with an expression, of which no words can convey an idea. He had removed the wreath of laurel which he wore on entering the church, and which encircles his brow in the fine picture of Gérard. The crown was, perhaps, in itself, less becoming to him; but the expression excited by the act of putting it on, rendered him perfectly handsome.
‘When the moment arrived for Josephine to take an active part in the grand drama, she descended from the throne and advanced towards the altar, where the Emperor awaited her, followed by her retinue of Court ladies, and having her train borne by the Princesses Caroline, Julie, Eliza, and Louis. One of the chief beauties of the Empress Josephine was not merely her fine figure, but the elegant turn of her neck, and the way in which she carried her head; indeed, her deportment, altogether, was conspicuous for dignity and grace. I have had the honour of being presented to many real princesses, to use the phrase of the Faubourg St. – Germain, but I never saw one who, to my eyes, presented so perfect a personification of elegance and majesty. In Napoleon’s countenance, I could read the conviction of all I have just said. He looked with an air of complacency at the Empress as she advanced towards him; and when she knelt down – when the tears, which she could not repress, fell upon her clasped hands, as they were raised to Heaven, or rather to Napoleon – both then appeared to enjoy one of those fleeting moments of pure felicity, which are unique in a lifetime, and serve to fill up a lustrum of years. The Emperor performed, with peculiar grace, every action required of him during the ceremony; but his manner of crowning Josephine was most remarkable: after receiving the small crown, surmounted by the Cross, he had first to place it on his own head, and then to transfer it to that of the Empress. When the moment arrived for placing the crown on the head of the woman, whom popular superstition regarded as his good genius, his manner was almost playful. He took great pains to arrange this little crown, which was placed over Josephine’s tiara of diamonds; he put it on, then took it off, and finally put it on again, as if to promise her she should wear it gracefully and lightly.’
It is almost painful, after reading this vivid and soul-stirring description, to have to descend to the level of the caricaturist descanting on the same subject; it is a kind of moral douche bath, giving all one’s nerves a shock.
Soon made they every preparationFor a most brilliant coronation:’Twas on, as must each bard remember,The nineteenth day of dark November4When all the streets were strew’d with sand,T’ exhibit a procession grand;And the Cathedral, lately scorn’d,With sumptuous frippery adorn’d.Brave Bonaparte and Josephine,Preceded by the Pope, walked in;His Holiness the crown anointed,And Boney Emperor appointed.Then Corsica’s impatient son,Snatch’d up the Crown, and put it on.The Crown was decked with French frippery,And with the oil, was rendered slippery;Nap kept it on, tho’, without dread,To let them know he had a head.And as to dally he was loth,He rapidly pronounc’d the oath —As soon as he the oath had swallow’d,Another Coronation follow’d —Fair Josephine advanced, and lo!Nap put on her a crown also.‘Ah me!’ thought she, ‘there’s something wrong,I fear it will drop off ’ere long.’Of holy oil, it seems, the fairHad got too plentiful a share.This pantomimic business o’er,Now marched they grandly as before;For, tinsell’d pageantry unitedWith an equestrian troop, delightedThe new-made Emperor of Paris,As much as Covent Garden Harris;And all the people, for this wise end,Were in the finest garments dizen’d;They finish’d with illuminations,Songs, music, dancing and orations.The white wine, which in fountains flow’d,Considerable mirth bestow’d.The folks enjoy’d, free of expence,The glare of lights, which was immense:And the new Emperor, with glee,Drank, till no longer he could see.Authentic news of the coronation did not reach England for nearly a fortnight, and it was not till December 15 that the ‘Times’ was able to give its readers a full account of the ceremony. ‘The Thunderer’ waxed very wroth about it, as may be seen by the following extract from its leader of that date: —
‘The “Moniteur” merely insinuates that the sun miraculously penetrated through a thick fog, to be present at it: a compliment which is a little diminished by a subsequent assertion, that the lamps were afterwards able to supply his place by giving a noon-day brilliancy to the night. Then follows a disgusting hypocritical panegyric upon the union of civil and religious acts and ceremonies, the sublime representation of all that human and divine affairs could assemble to strike the mind – the venerable Apostolic virtues of the poor Pope, and the most astonishing genius of Buonaparte crowned by the most astonishing destiny!
‘The public will find these details, under their proper head, in this paper. To us, we confess, all that appears worthy of remark or memory in that opprobrious day is, that amongst all the Royalists and Republicans of France, it was able to produce neither a Brutus nor a Chœreas!
‘The day subsequent to the coronation, the people of Paris were entertained upon the bridges, boulevards, and public places, with popular sports, dancing, and other pastimes and diversions.
‘Upon the Place de Concorde, still stained with the blood of the lawful sovereign of France, were erected saloons and pavilions for dancing waltzes. Medals were given away to the populace; illuminations, artificial fireworks, pantomimes, and buffoons, musicians, temporary theatres, everything was represented and administered that could intoxicate and divert this vain and wicked people from contemplating the crime they were committing. To the profanation of the preceding day, it seems that all the orgies of wantonness and corruption succeeded in the most curious and careful rotation, and that all the skill and science of the Davids and Cheniers has been exhausted to keep them for four and twenty hours from thinking upon what they had done.’