‘Friends or Foes—Up he goes—Sending the Corsican Munchausen to St. Clouds’ is by Rowlandson (December 12, 1813), and shows the whole of the sovereigns of Europe combining to toss Napoleon in a blanket.
A most amusing caricature by Rowlandson (December 14, 1813) is ‘Political Chemists and German Retorts, or dissolving the Rhenish confederacy.’ John Bull naturally finds coal for a ‘German Stove,’ the fire in which a Dutchman blows with a pair of bellows. All the sovereigns of Europe stand round, enjoying Boney’s discomfiture. The Emperor, who is vainly appealing to them, ‘Oh spare me till the King of Rome is ripe for mischief yet to come,’ is being put into a glass receiver, and is about to be covered up. Bernadotte is pouring in a bottle of sulphate of Swedish iron, and the Pope is hurrying forward with two bottles, one of fulminating powder, the other a vial of wrath. The products being distilled from him are Intrigue and Villainy, Ambition and Folly, Gasconade and Lies, Fire and Sword, Arrogance and Atrocity, Murder and Plunder. A Spaniard is pounding at a mortar inscribed ‘Saragossa.’
In ‘Town Talk’ (December 1, 1813) is published ‘Gasconading—alias the Runaway Emperor Humbugging the Senate.
Some are Short and some are Tall,
But it’s very well known that he hums them all,
And then sings fal de ral tit.’
Napoleon crowned, and en grande tenue, stands before the throne, pointing to some trophies borne by soldiers, and thus addresses the Senate: ‘Senators! the glorious success of our Arms has forced me to give way to the impulse of quitting the field of honour, that I might have the satisfaction of presenting to my faithful Senate the glorious trophies of our Victories. Senators! your restless, envious enemies shall be humbled to the dust; your Emperor wills it so; this Arrogant Confederacy shall be punished for their temerity, and our brave Soldiers shall repose in peace. Senators! for this purpose I shall require the small sum of 250,000,000, a sum the flourishing state of our finance will easily produce, and, to replace the vacancy made in my Army, 500,000 (men) from the conscription of 4 years to come will be all that I demand. Frenchmen, the Will of your Emperor, and the glory of the great Nation, requires it.’ The Devil, peeping round from behind the throne, applauds: ‘That’s right my Boy. Humbug them out of another conscription to send me, before you come yourself.’
One Senator, as spokesman, thus addresses Napoleon: ‘Great Emperor of the Great Nation, the Senate devotes the lives and property of the People to your service.’ But this does not appear to be the universal consensus of opinion; for one grumbles, ‘C’est dire un peu trop, cela!’ Another asks: ‘What has he done with the last Grand Army, that he wants so many again?’ and one replies: ‘They are gone to see how their friends in Russia do.’ Another doubts the authenticity of the trophies: ‘Why! these trophies belong to our Allies, c’est drôle cela!’
On December 12, 1813, George Cruikshank published ‘Bleeding and Warm Water! or the Allied Doctors bringing Boney to his Senses.’ Here poor Boney is in very evil case. With shaven head, and in an ‘Allied strait waistcoat’ (one sleeve of which is held by Russia, the other by Poland), he is seated on the stool of Repentance in a tub of hot water, consisting of a ‘sea of troubles,’ which is warmed by the flames of Moscow. He is surrounded by all the European sovereigns as doctors, each of whom prescribes his own remedy. Russia gives, as his opinion: ‘I have found a constant application of this Russian Knout to work wonders!!’ John Bull is giving him a fearful bolus, ‘Invasion of France,’ saying at the same time, ‘Work away my Masters, I’ll pay you your fees. Ay, ay, rave and rant, Master Boney, but the Devil will Bone you at last.’ Holland is trying ‘what Dutch drops will do,’ by emptying out of a huge cannon a legion of armed Dutchmen on his shaven head. Poland bleeds him by stabbing his arm with a lance, and Prussia catches the blood in a ‘Crown bowl,’ congratulating himself, ‘I think my Crown Razors have shaved his Crown pretty close.’ Spain is applying a plaster to his back: ‘Here is a Plaster of Spanish flies for him.’ Poor Boney, one of whose legs is in the hot water, resists this treatment as far as possible, and yells out, ‘Hence with your Medicines—they but drive me Mad. Curse on your Dutch Drops, your Leipsig Blister, and your Spanish flies; they have fretted me to what I am. D—n your Cossack Lancets, they have drained my veins, and rendered me poor and vulnerable indeed—Oh! how I am fallen—But I will still struggle—I will still be great—Myriads of Frenchmen still shall uphold the glory of my name, the grandeur of my Throne, and write my disgrace in the hearts of ye—ye wretched creatures of English gold.’
‘The Head of the Great Nation in a Queer Situation,’ by G. Cruikshank (December 1813), shows frightened Bonaparte, his magic wand broken, surrounded by his enemies. Wellington points a huge blunderbuss at him, telling the others to ‘Take a good aim at the Head, gentlemen, and we shall soon settle the business.’ Austria, Prussia, and Russia all point pistols at his head. Prussia thinks that ‘by Gar, we shall make de Head look like de Plumb Pudding;’ and Russia says, ‘I’ll rattle a few Snow balls at his Cranium.’ Holland has a cannon which he is filling with bales of Orange Boven, saying, ‘I’ll deal out my oranges to him wholesale.’ From the heavens, the hand of Justice is putting the ‘Allied Extinguisher’ upon him. This picture is copied bodily from a French caricature, ‘Le Chef de la Grande Nation dans une triste position.’
On December 25, 1813, was published one of Rowlandson’s caricatures called the ‘Mock Auction—or Boney selling Stolen Goods.’ There is an announcement that ‘speedily will be sold the 13 cantons of Switzerland,’ and, among the property he has for sale, are the Papal Tiara, and several crowns, a lot of useless eagles, the kingdom of Bavaria, twenty flags the property of the Empress, the kingdom of Prussia, Saxony, kingdom of Westphalia, and the United Provinces. Some French officers are among the audience, which includes the crowned heads of Europe. The crown of Spain is on sale, and is lifted upon high for inspection. Spain jeeringly asks: ‘That a Crown? It’s not worth half a crown.’ Napoleon, seeing no chance of selling it, says: ‘What! no bidding for the Crown of Spain. Then take the other crowns and lump them into one lot.’ Maria Louisa carries the King of Rome, who is like a little monkey, and who exclaims: ‘I suppose daddy will put us up for sale.’