‘The Allied Bakers, or the Corsican Toad in the hole’ (April 1, 1814), is taken bodily from a French caricature, ‘Le Tour des Alliés, ou le Corse près à être cuit,’ although it bears on it ‘G. H. invt Cruickshank fecit.’ The King of Prussia, Woronzow, and Blücher have a baker’s peel, on which is a dish containing Boney, screaming, ‘Murder, Murder,’ as he is being put into the Allied Oven. Holland sits on the floor blowing the fire. A Frenchman, whose fickleness is shown by the weather-cock on his hat, is opening the oven door for his former master’s destruction, saying: ‘This door sticks! I don’t think I shall get it open!’ Blücher shouts, ‘Pull away Frank,[38] you keep us waiting.’ Woronzow says, ‘In with it, Blucher,’ and the King of Prussia’s opinion is, ‘I tell you what, Woronzow, the Hinges want a little Russia Oil.’ Wellington, who is bearing a tray on which is a Soult pie and a Bordeaux pie, shouts out, ‘Shove altogether, Gentlemen! D—n me, shove door and all in.’
Meanwhile, the allied Austrian, Russian, and Prussian troops had marched on to Paris, and, having defeated Marmont, March 30, 1814, the city was virtually at their mercy. Maria Louisa and the young King of Rome left Paris on March 29, and on the 31st the city capitulated, and the Emperor of Russia and the King of Prussia entered the city with the allied armies. The Emperor of Austria did not join them, probably out of deference to his paternal feelings. The ‘Times’ of April 6, 1814, thus gives the news of the capitulation:—‘Babylon the great is fallen! Paris, the proud city, the city of philosophy, has bowed her neck to the Conqueror.’
‘Boney forsaken by his Guardian Angel’ (April 3, 1814) shows the Emperor kneeling, one crown already having been taken from him by the arch-fiend, who now is taking another from off his head. The flames of hell are prominent in the distance. Bonaparte implores—‘My Guardian Angel, my Protector, do not desert me in the hour of Danger.’ But the Devil, exultant, says, ‘Poh! Poh! you cannot expect to reign for ever; besides I want you at home, to teach some of the young Imps wickedness.’
On April 3 the fickle French destroyed their idol, for the Provisional Government declared Napoleon deposed, and his dynasty abolished.
On April 5 Bonaparte formally abdicated the throne of France; and, when we consider how long he had troubled the peace of this country, we can pardon the almost brutal exultation of the ‘Times’ of April 11:—
‘The most hateful of Tyrants has finished by proving himself the most infamous of cowards.
‘Two Extraordinary Gazettes were published on Saturday; the latter of which contained Buonaparte’s renunciation of sovereignty, in the following terms:—
The Allied Powers having proclaimed that the Emperor Napoleon was the only obstacle to the re-establishment of the peace of Europe, the Emperor Napoleon, faithful to his oath, declares that he renounces for himself and his heirs, the Thrones of France and Italy; and that there is no personal sacrifice, even that of his life, which he is not ready to make in the interest of France.
Done at the Palace of Fontainebleau the —— April, 1814.
‘Thus has the last act of this wretch’s public life been marked by the same loathsome hypocrisy which characterised him throughout his guilty career. When he has been solemnly deposed by his own confederates; when the execrations of all France, and of all Europe, are ringing in his ears; when his last army is deserting him by thousands, and an overwhelming force of the Allies is approaching, to drag him to a shameful death, if he refuses the proffer’d mercy—then, forsooth, his forced submission is a voluntary sacrifice, he is actuated by a principle of public spirit, he feels a religious regard for his oath!!!
‘We did not think to have troubled our heads what should become of him, or his worthless carcase—whether he should crawl about upon the face of that earth, which he had so long desolated; or end a miserable existence by his own desperate hand; or be helped out of the world by the guillotine, the halter, or the coup de grâce. Certainly, if we had to choose the finest moral lesson for after ages, we could not have preferred any to that, which should at once expose the selfishness, the baseness, and the cowardice of a vainglorious mortal, whom adulation has raised almost to divine honours. And, as to any danger from his life—why, Jerry Sneak was a hero to him. Twice before, had he run away from the field of battle—but that, in the opinions of his besotted admirers, was profound imperial policy.