This victory of the Nile is very graphically depicted (Gillray, October 6, 1798) in the ‘Extirpation of the Plagues of Egypt;—Destruction of Revolutionary Crocodiles;—or—The British Hero cleansing ye Mouth of ye Nile.’ Here Nelson has half-a-dozen crocodiles (typical of captured French ships) hooked and in his power, whilst, with a stout cudgel of ‘British Oak,’ he is spreading deadly blows and consternation into a quantity of tricoloured crocodiles. The blowing up of the ‘Orient’ is shown by one crocodile which is thus being destroyed.
Another caricature (October 7, 1798) of the victory of the Nile is ‘The Gallant Nellson bringing home two uncommon fierce French Crocodiles from the Nile as a present to the King.’ The one-armed hero is leading by a chain Fox and Sheridan, who have their jaws muzzled by rings, and Fox’s mouth is also secured by a padlock, ‘a mouthpiece for hypocrites.’ They are both weeping copiously, after the fabled manner of crocodiles. Nelson is saying, ‘Come along you Hypocritical dogs, I dare say your Dam’d sorry now for what you’ve done. No, no, I shall bring you to my Master;’ whilst John Bull, habited as a countryman, exclaims, ‘Aye, aye, what! Horatio has got ’em at last. Why, these be the Old Cock Deviles. I thought as how he would not go so far for nothing.’ This goes well with that of October 3.
A very curious caricature is (Ansell, October 24, 1798) Bonaparte in Egypt, ‘A terrible Turk preparing a Mummy for a present to the Grand Nation.’ A Turk, terrible indeed, has Napoleon by the throat, and, with sword in hand, is going to despatch him, saying, ‘As for you, you Dog of no Religion, I’ll sacrifice you at the tomb of the Prophet, whose name you have prophaned for the purposes of Murder, Rapine, and Plunder.’
Napoleon, whose defenceless state is typified by his swordless scabbard being broken, is endeavouring to mollify the wrath of the Turk. ‘Now, mild and gentle Sir, don’t be so rough: do you think I would cut your throat, ravish your wives, or plunder your house? No, by Mahomet I would not. Sacrè Dieu, I would not. Ah, Diable, you’ll choak me.’
Fox, Erskine, Sheridan, and the Duke of Norfolk are kneeling down, begging for Napoleon’s life, whilst a Turk, who exclaims, ‘You agree together so well, I think I’ll fix you together for life,’ has a bowstring ready to strangle all four. Pleads Fox, ‘Pray don’t hurt our dear friend, he would not hurt Man, Woman, or Child. He can’t bear the sight of blood; as for plunder or deception, he is the determined enemy to both, by —— he is, and we are ready to swear it.’ Sheridan and Erskine say—the one, ‘d—n me if he ayn’t, and we are ready to swear it;’ the other, ‘I’ll swear it, I, I, I, swear it.’
‘John Bull taking a luncheon’ (Gillray, October 24, 1798) is an extremely graphic caricature, and introduces us to the popular idea of John Bull, who, certainly, is never represented in this period with any of the refinement that Leech, Doyle, Tenniel, or any of our modern caricaturists depict him; tastes and habits were coarser then than now, and John Bull was always shown in the rough. The second portion of the title of the picture helps us to realise the popular fancy, ‘or—British Cooks cramming old Grumble Gizzard with Bonne Chére.’ All his admirals and captains are bringing him food. Nelson presents him with a Fricasee à la Nelson, a huge dish of French ships; others are bearing dishes, such as Desert à la Warren, Fricando à la Howe, à la Gardner, à la Bridport, à la Vincent, Dutch Cheese à la Duncan.
John Bull is seated, devouring these viands, which are to be washed down with mighty draughts of True British Stout, exclaiming, ‘What! more Frigasees? why you sons o’ b——s, you, where do you think I shall find room to stow all you bring in?’ Fox and Sheridan are seen through an open window, running away, calling out, ‘Oh curse his Guts, he’ll take a chop at us next.’
There is another one with similar motif by Ansell, November 1, 1798.