Twang went the horn! ‘confound that noise!’
I cried, in pet—‘these plaguy boys
Are at some tricks to sell their papers,
Their blasts have given me the vapours!’
But all my senses soon were stranded,
At hearing ‘Buonaparte’s landed!’
‘Landed in France!’ so ran the strain,
And ‘with eleven hundred men.’
‘Ho, post!’ ‘Who calls?’ ‘This way.’ ‘I’m coming!’
‘The public surely he is humming,’
Said I. ‘A paper—what’s the price?’
‘A shilling.’ ‘Why, that’s payment twice!’
‘As cheap as dirt, your honour, quite;
They’ve sold for half a crown to-night.’
‘But is the News authentic, friend?’
‘Ofishul, sir, you may depend.—
The Currier, third edition.’ ‘So!
Well, take your money, boy, and go.’
Now for the news—by what strange blunder
Has he escaped his bounds, I wonder.
The flight of the British who were in France, upon hearing the news of Napoleon’s landing, is amusingly shown in ‘Hell broke loose or the John Bulls made Jack Asses,’ which is the euphonious title of a caricature by G. Cruikshank, published March 20, 1815. In it we see depicted the flight of Louis the Eighteenth and all the English then resident in Paris. They are departing in fearful haste, and by all kinds of conveyances. One reflects, ‘How they will laugh at us at home for being so fond of spending our Money in Foreign Countries.’ Another complains, ‘Oh dear, Oh! dear, I have left all my valuables in Paris. I wish I had never brought my prosperity into France.’ One man, gouty, is being dragged along in a go-cart. Three men are mounted on a cow, whilst another holds on by its tail; whilst those on horseback, or in carriages, are having their quadrupeds and vehicles requisitioned, ‘Me vant de horse to meet my old master Boney.’ ‘We want de coach to join de grand Emperor; we teach you now to recover our lost honour and fight like devils.’ Napoleon, at the head of his army, says, ‘Aye, Aye, I shall catch some of the John Bulls, and I’ll make them spend their money, and their time, too, in France.’
‘Boney’s Return from Elba, or the Devil among the Tailors (G. H. invt etched by G. Cruikshank, 21 March, 1815)’ is indeed a scare. Before describing the picture, it would be as well to read the following lines which are at its foot:—
Hush’d was the din of Arms and fierce debate,
Janus once more had clos’d his Temple gate;
Assembled Congress fix’d the flattering Plan,
For Europe’s safety, and the Peace of Man.
When, like a Tiger, stealing from his den,
And gorg’d with blood, yet seeking blood again;
From Elba’s Isle the Corsican came forth,
Making his sword the measure of his worth.
Hence plunder, force, & cunning blast his fame,
And sink the Hero in the Robber’s name;
Hence guiltless Louis from the throne is hurl’d,
And discord reigns triumphant o’er the world.
Swift as the vivid lightning’s shock,
The Exile darts from Elba’s Rock!
And like the Thunderbolt of fate
Dethrones a King! transforms a State!
Bonaparte, suddenly leaping from Elba, enters at an open window, knocking off the board, on which he had been sitting, the unlucky Louis the Eighteenth, who lies prone on the floor, crying, ‘Help, help! Oh! I am knocked off my Perch.’ John Bull goes to his assistance, comforting him with, ‘Never fear old boy, I’ll help you up again; as for that rascal Boney, I’ll sew him up presently.’ Boney, meanwhile, is calmly seated on the tailor’s bench, saying, ‘Dont disturb yourselves, shopmates, I have only popped myself here as a cutter out. Where is my wife and son, Father Francis?’ Trembling Austria, goose in one hand, scissors in the other, says, ‘I will send an answer shortly.’ Terrified Holland exclaims, ‘Donder and Blizen dat is de Devil!’ Russia, pointing to a knout, says, ‘I’ll take a few Cossack measures to him.’ Old Blücher, with a huge pair of shears, advances to Napoleon, exclaiming, ‘Cutter out indeed!!! Yes, Yes, I’ll cut you out, Master Boney.’ Prussia, still seated, sewing, thinks, ‘You have cut out a little work for us to be sure, but d—— me if you shall be foreman here.’ Bernadotte opines that ‘This looks like another subsidy.’ Talleyrand is hiding himself under the bench; and the poor Pope, sprawling on the floor, forgets all Christian charity and language, and cries out, ‘Oh! curse the fellow, I wish I had the power of a Bull, I’d kick him to Hell. D—n me if it isn’t enough to make a saint swear.’
‘A Review of the New Grand Army’ (artist unnamed, March 1815) shows, in the background, a host of very tattered troops. In front is Napoleon, the aghast Emperor, and his two friends and Pillars of the State, Death and the Devil. On one side of him is a Captain of Starved Banditti from the Alps, whose aim and object is plunder, and he acts as aide-de-camp; whilst a ferocious Butcher from Elba, reeking knife, and halter, in either hand, guards his other side, and acts as generalissimo. In a flood of light over Napoleon’s head appears the Dæmon of War presiding over the Tyrant, bearing in one hand a flag, inscribed ‘We come to redress Grievances,’ and with the other pointing to ‘Boundless Ambition.’
G. Cruikshank etched (April 4, 1815) ‘The Genius of France expounding her Laws to the Sublime People.’ An enormous monkey, his tail ornamented with tricoloured bows, unfolds a tricoloured scroll, which a lot of much smaller monkeys are reading. It is ‘The French Code of Laws.—Ye shall be vain, fickle, and foolish—Ye shall kill your King one day, and crown his relative the next.—You shall get tired of Him in a few weeks—and recal a Tyrant, who has made suffering humanity bleed at every pore—because it will be truly Nouvelle—Lastly, ye shall abolish and destroy all virtuous Society and worship the Devil.—As for Europe, or that little dirty Nation, the English, let them be d—d. France, the Great Nation, against the whole World.’