Lewis Marks produced, in June 1814, ‘Boney and his new subjects at Elba.’ The poverty-stricken condition to which the Emperor is reduced is too graphically portrayed, and his ragged army of four is very vividly illustrated. He thus addresses them: ‘Gentlemen, my friends despise and d—n England, Russia, Prussia, Germany, and Sweden, and obey me—and I will make kings of you all.’
Napoleon might well say that his ‘territory was somewhat small;’ but, small as it was, his restless activity set to work to improve it. He made roads where none had existed, canals and aqueducts, a lazaretto, and stations for tunny-fishing. Vineyards were improved, and the little island was quite prosperous. Numerous visitors came to pay their respects to the Emperor, causing money to be spent; vessels brought provisions, and took away what the inhabitants had to export. Porto Ferrajo was gay and lively, its name being changed to Cosmopoli. A new flag was manufactured, having a red bend dexter, charged with three bees on a white field, and Moorish pirates were very chary of touching vessels bearing this flag. In May Cambrone brought out some volunteers of the old guard, and Napoleon exercised and inspected his little army.
BONEY AND HIS NEW SUBJECTS AT ELBA (see previous page).
But these things cost money, and that was one of the things wanting to Napoleon. The conditions of the treaty with him were shamefully broken. Hear what he says himself about it:[44] ‘It was stipulated and agreed to, that all the members of my family should be allowed to follow me to Elba; but, in violation of that, my wife and child were seized, detained, and never permitted to join a husband and a father. They were also to have had the Duchies of Parma, Placentia, and Guastalla, which they were deprived of. By the treaty, Prince Eugene was to have had a principality in Italy, which was never given. My mother and brothers were to receive pensions, which were also refused to them. My own private property, and the savings which I had made on the civil list, were to have been preserved for me. Instead of that, they were seized in the hands of Labouillerie the treasurer, contrary to the treaty, and all claims made by me rejected. The private property of my family was to be held sacred: it was confiscated. The dotations assigned to the army on the Mont Napoleon were to be preserved: they were suppressed; nor were the hundred thousand francs which were to be given as pensions to persons pointed out by me, ever paid. Moreover, assassins were sent to Elba to murder me. Never,’ continued Napoleon, ‘have the terms of a treaty been more evidently violated, and indeed openly scoffed at, than those were by the allies.’
Louis the Eighteenth was very tame after Napoleon, who, in spite of his draining France of men and treasure, had implanted a deep personal love for him in the hearts of his people; and, from some fancied saying of his, that ‘he would return in the spring,’ the violet, the flower of spring, was taken as his emblem, and so worn. He was spoken of under the name of Caporal Violette, or Papa Violette, and the people comforted themselves with ‘En printemps il reviendra.’
There were several coloured engravings of bunches of violets, bearing the portraits of Napoleon, Maria Louisa, and the King of Rome—or Prince of Parma, as he was then called—published in France; notably one by Cann, ‘Violettes du 20 Mars 1815,’ from which, in all probability, Cruikshank took his caricature of ‘The Peddigree of Corporal Violet (G. H. invt et del. etched by G. Cruikshank 9 June 1815)’; but, in the arrangement of the flowers, it is superior to any of the French pictures that I have seen.
THE PEDDIGREE OF CORPORAL VIOLET.
For want of space, I have but partially reproduced it. It is described ‘First as a Consular Toad Stool, rising from a Corsican Dunghill, then changing to an Imperial Sun Flower, from that to an Elba fungus’ (where the illustration commences), ‘and lastly to a bunch of Violets, which are so disposed as to represent a whole length Profile of Buonaparte, with a bust of Maria Louisa, and her Son, the Prince of Parma,’ which portraits, undoubtedly existing in the picture, will be a pleasing exercise of patience on the part of my readers to discover.