A very commonplace caricature is ‘The Tyrant, overtaken by Justice, is excluded from the world,’ and it would not be noticed here did it not introduce us to a new artist, L. M. (? Lewis Marks). Napoleon, chained to his rock, disconsolately gazes at that world which he may not reach, the Devil meanwhile pointing the finger of scorn at him (May 1814).
In ‘the departure of Apollo and the Muses—or Farewell to Paris’ (May 1814), by I. Sidebotham, we have the restitution of the art treasures, taken by Napoleon, to their different owners—a long string of waggons, filled with pictures, &c., are labelled Holland, Italy, Venice, Berlin, and Vienna. Louis the Eighteenth, at the Louvre, laments it, and says, ‘Dear Talley, persuade them to leave us a few of these pretty things for my chambers, they will pacify the Deputies, and amuse the people.’ Talleyrand replies, ‘I have tried every scheme to retain them, but it seems they have at last found us out, and are not to be humbug’d any longer.’ Apollo and the Muses have mounted a fine gold car, which is drawn, not only by horses, but by the British Lion as well—the former being postilioned by Blücher; the latter by the Duke of Wellington, who calls out, ‘Go along, Blucher, let us haste to restore the stolen Goods.’
THE INHABITANTS OF ELBA.
NAPOLEON LANDING AT ELBA.
Of his entry into Elba the poet thus sings:—
On board th’ Undaunted he embark’d—
‘A noble vessel,’ he remark’d,
And now the banish’d malefactor
(So late a wild and busy actor),
His entry into Elba made
Upon the fourth of May. ’Tis said
To see the wondrous little man
Th’ inhabitants all eager ran.
A great blue coat our hero sported,
And was most pompously escorted;
Three fiddles and two fifes preceded,
For he some consolation needed;
Pity my fall became the strain
Which they struck up to sooth his pain;
‘Oh change that doleful air,’ he said,
And therefore the musicians played,
In hopes to comfort the poor elf,
Go to the De’il, and shake yourself.
‘Give me a horse,’ he cried; of course
Nap was provided with a horse,
And round the island quick he rode,
Which his wild disposition shewed;
The little children, at his view,
Cried out, ‘Oh, there’s a bug-a-boo!’
Without a wife—without a mother,[43]
Without a sister, or a brother,
And even of a friend bereft,
Poor Nap is to his conscience left.
On June 4, 1814, was published (artist unknown) ‘An Imperial vomit’ in which Bonaparte is disgorging the kingdoms he has swallowed up. The Prince Regent, behind him, says, ‘I think now my little fellow, you are pretty well clear’d out, and I hope you will never give us the trouble to Prescribe or Proscribe any more.’
‘Drumming out of the French Army!!!’ is the title of a picture published in June 1814. Blücher has Bonaparte in a drum, which he carries before him, beating him alternately with a birch-rod and a drum-stick, Russia, Prussia, and Austria looking on.