On January 1, 1808, I. Cruikshank published ‘Boney stark mad, or more Ships, Colonies, and Commerce.’ It shows the fleet in the Tagus, and the British Admiral (Sir Sidney Smith) calling out through his speaking-trumpet, ‘Bon jour, Monsieur, if you would like a trip to the Brazils, I’ll conduct you there with a great deal of pleasure; perhaps you would like a taste of Madeira by the way.’ This is to Talleyrand, on whom Bonaparte is venting his rage, kicking him, and tearing off his wig, saying: ‘Stop them, stop them. Murder, fire! Why did you not make more haste, you hopping rascal? now, all my hopes are blasted, my revenge disappointed, and—I’ll glut it on you—Monster—Vagabond—Villain!!!’
The explanation of this caricature is, that as the French army was marching direct to Lisbon, the whole of the Portuguese Royal family embarked for the Brazils, on November 29, under convoy of a British squadron.
‘Delicious Dreams! Castles in the Air! Glorious Prospects! vide an Afternoon Nap after the Fatigues of an Official Dinner,’ is by Gillray (April 10, 1808), and shows the Cabinet asleep, a punch-bowl on the table, and full and empty bottles all around. They are so quiet that the mice are licking the Treasury plates. Behind Castlereagh’s chair is a cat (Catalani). Mr. Perceval sleeps with his arms on the table; the Duke of Portland in the chairman’s seat; Lord Liverpool with his back to the table; Canning, negligently lolling back in his chair, uses Lord Melville, who is under the table, as a footstool. The delicious dream they see has for its background the Tower of London, before which passes Britannia seated on a triumphal car, fashioned somewhat like a ship, and drawn by a bull; and, behind the car, chained to it, come, first, Bonaparte, the Russian Bear, Prussia, Austria, and Spain.
‘The Corsican Tiger at Bay’ (Rowlandson, July 8, 1808) shows Napoleon as a Tiger (or rather, as the artist has depicted him, a leopard), with his fore-feet on four Royal Greyhounds, whilst a pack of Patriotic Greyhounds are rushing to attack him. John Bull, standing on the white cliffs of Albion, presents his gun at him, singing the nursery rhyme—
‘There was a little man,
And he had a little gun,
And his bullets were made of lead——
D—me, but we’ll manage him amongst us.’ The Russian Bear and Austrian Eagle are chained together; but Austria thus proposes: ‘Now, Brother Bruin, is the time to break our chains.’ The Dutch frog, too, joins in the chorus: ‘It will be my turn to have a slap at him next.’
‘Boney Bothered, or an unexpected meeting’ (Ansell, July 9, 1808). This shows Boney having gone right through the world, and, coming out on the other side, planting his foot on the East Indies, at Bengal; but he is utterly astonished to find John Bull there also, armed with his redoubtable oaken cudgel. ‘Begar,’ says he, ‘Monsieur Jean Bull again! Vat! you know I was come here?’ To which John Bull, from whose pocket peeps a bundle of Secret Intelligence, replies, ‘To be sure I did—for all your humbug deceptions. I smoked[16] your intentions, and have brought my Oak Twig with me, so now you may go back again.’
We now come to a period of our history which is interesting to all of us—the Peninsular War. Napoleon had turned his attention to Spain, and the Spanish king had abdicated, and been sent to Fontainebleau, with ample allowances. Joseph Bonaparte had been chosen king of Spain, and Murat had his kingdom of Naples. But the Spanish nation did not acquiesce in these arrangements. They broke into open revolt, the English helping them with arms and money, and, on June 6, the Supreme Junta formally declared war against Napoleon. This much is necessary to explain the following caricature:—