Although not English caricature, I may be pardoned for giving, as a type of then French feeling, a song sung by the troops amongst themselves. It is full of slang of the period, which the notes will elucidate:—
Pendant que Louis Dix-huit à gogo[45]
Mangeait, buvait, faisait dodo,[46]
Un beau jour, le Papa
Quitte son île, et le voilà!
Chorus. Chantons le père de la violette
Au bruit de sons,[47] et de canons!
Quand à la cour on sait cela,
Le Comte d’Artois monte son dada,[48]
Mais pour barrer le Papa,
Il faut un autre luron[49] que ça!
Chantons, &c.
During Napoleon’s exile Josephine had died, on May 29. She had lived quite long enough, and had experienced as many, and as great, vicissitudes as any woman.
In June the Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia and his sons, with a numerous suite, visited London, and were made LL.D.’s at Oxford, great fun being made at the time about conferring the degree on Blücher, Dr. Blücher figuring in many caricatures.
‘John Bull mad with Joy! or the First of August 1814,’ shows the old fellow in ecstasies of delight. He has thrown away his hat, and is waving his wig, dancing all the time. The Prince Regent says, ‘Ah, ha! Johnny, I knew you’d be delighted,’ and shows him the ‘Bill of Fare of the Grand National Jubilee for the Peace of 1814. Hyde Park—A grand fair—Messrs Gyngall, Richardson, and Punches shows—a grand sea fight upon the Serpentine—Fireworks in Kensington Gardens—plenty of gin and beer—St. James’ Park—a Balloon—Chinese bridge and Pagoda—Boat race on the Canal—fireworks—plenty of port, sherry, claret, champagne, &c., &c., &c. Green Park—Castle and Temple—Fireworks and Royal Booths.’ In his right hand the capering and joyous John swings a miniature gallows, on which hang the prince’s enemies, and he cries out in his joy, ‘Huzza for the Prince of Princes! Damn the lying London Papers! May Whitbread be drown’d in one of his own butts! and Tierney be choked with his long speeches. Here I have your enemies as they should be! I shall stick this in my Corn field to frighten the Crows! so Huzza, again and again, for the Prince of Princes.’
This was the outcome of the Grand Jubilee on August 1, which was celebrated in London—notably in the parks. ‘Mad with joy’ was the proper expression. See what this peace meant for the nation—a revival of trade, a remission of taxes, cheaper provisions, the reuniting to their families of beloved ones who had undergone so much for their country. No one can wonder that the people went ‘mad with joy,’ and were not ashamed to confess it. There was a pagoda on a Chinese[50] bridge thrown over the canal in St. James’s Park, and at night fireworks were displayed thereon. Chinese lanterns all along the Mall and Birdcage Walk. In the Green Park was a ‘Temple of Concord,’ near which was a fine booth for the accommodation of the foreign ambassadors and guests whom the Regent delighted to honour. Small men-of-war waged a mimic sea-fight on the Serpentine, and in Hyde Park was a regular fair. Sadler went up in his balloon, but nearly came to grief, and descended somewhat precipitately in Mucking Marshes, on the Essex coast, sixteen miles below Gravesend. Sad to say, about midnight the pagoda caught fire, and two people lost their lives. The fair in Hyde Park was kept going for several days afterwards.
So we leave the year 1814, with Napoleon seemingly safe, yet far from contented, and the English people revelling in the new and welcome blessings of peace.