COMPLIMENTS AND CONGÉES.
‘Compliments and Congées, or Little Boney’s surrender to the Tars of Old England!!!’ is a highly humorous picture by G. Cruikshank (July 24, 1815). Napoleon surrenders himself, cringing and weeping, together with his suite, whom he describes, on board the ‘Bellerophon,’ and is received with due respect by Captain Maitland. The ex-Emperor says, ‘O, Mr. Bull, I am so happy to see you, I always had a great regard for the British Sailors, they are such noble fellows, so brave, so generous!! You see I am in a great deal of trouble, but I hope you will take pity on me and my suite, namely my barber, my cook, and my washerwoman, together with a few of my brave generals who ran away with me from the Battle of Waterloo, and I do assure you we will have great pleasure in surrendering to the good English—I should feel extremely obliged if you would take us to America, but if you will not, I beg you will take us to England, for I hate those Bears, and cursed Cossacks, and as for the French Nation now—why they may be d—d. Old England for ever I say.’ And his suite servilely follow their fallen master’s lead with cries of ‘Vivent les Anglais!’
Captain Maitland receives him with doffed hat and his hand on his heart, saying, ‘Indeed Mr. Boney I am greatly obliged to you for your compliments, and I assure you we are as happy to receive you, as you are to surrender. I’m afraid they would not take that care of you in America, that they will in England. Therefore I shall conduct you to the latter place, as quick as possible.’ The opinions of the sailors are more graphic than polite: ‘My eyes, what a sneaking hound he is!!’ ‘I say Jack, do you think they’ll clap him in Exeter Change amongst the wild beasts?’ ‘No, I suppose as how he’ll be put in the Monkey’s den in the Tower, or else they’ll send him about with the dancing bear!’
Charles etched (July 15, 1815) ‘The Bone-a-part in a fresh place.’ This represents Bonaparte caught in a spring man-trap, which has broken his leg. He surrenders his sword to John Bull, who is dressed as a gardener: ‘Here take this Mr. Bull, you have me in your power—I must trust to your usual generosity, and most humbly acknowledge that I am truly sorry I ever came here.’ John Bull makes no answer, but soliloquises thus instead: ‘He has plundered most of his neighbours’ Gardens, but I thought he would be sorry if ever he set his foot in mine. I suppose this big sword is what he intended to cut my cabbages with, and perhaps my head too! but I’ll have it for a pruning knife, ’twill serve me to lop his Branches with, if any should spring up after I have taken care of him.’
G. Cruikshank, in August 1815, published a contrast—‘Buonaparte on the 17th of June—Buonaparte on the 17th of July, 1815.’ On the former date he is seen vapouring on the French coast, flourishing his sword, and calling out, ‘Ha, ha, you Bull beast, you Blackguard Islander, you see I am come back again, and now you shall see what I shall do with you, you wretch! you thought I was done over, did you? you thought I was going to stay at Elba? D—n all Elbas, abdications, Englishmen and their Allies. I’ll play Hell with them all.’ John Bull, seated securely on his own shore, calmly enjoying his tankard of ale and his long clay pipe, puffs out a huge mouthful of smoke at his adversary, with a contemptuous ‘You may be d—d. I’ll make a Tobacco stopper of you.’
But within one short month what a change had come over the scene! Napoleon, a weeping, kneeling suppliant, on board the ‘Bellerophon,’ moans out:—
O good Mr. Bull! I wish you to know
(Although you are my greatest foe,)
That my career is at an end:
And I wish you now to stand my friend.
For, though at the Battle of Waterloo
I was by you beat black & blue,
Yet you see I wish to live with you,
For I’m sure what is said of your goodness is true.
And now if in England you’ll let me remain
I ne’er will be guilty of bad Tricks again.
John Bull, however, knowing the slippery customer he has to deal with, reflects: ‘Let me see;—first of all you sprung from the Island of Corsica, and when you was kick’d out of France, and went to the Island of Elba, you made another spring into France again.—And now when you are kick’d out of France a second time, you want to come and live on my Island—But it won’t do, Master Boney;—you’ll be making another spring into France again, I suppose—so I tell you what—I’ll send you to the Island of St. Helena, and we’ll see what sort of a spring you’ll make then.’
George Cruikshank contributes a very badly drawn etching (September 1, 1815) of ‘Boney’s threatened Invasion brought to bear,—or, taking a View of the English coast from ye Poop of the Bellerophon.’ The English coast is represented by a ‘Citadel,’ in front of which is a gallows prepared. One of his suite points it out to him: ‘By gar! mon Emperor, dey have erect von prospect for you.’ Napoleon, who is mounted on a breech of the gun, looks through his telescope and says, ‘Me no like the d—n prospect.’ A Jack Tar sitting on another gun gives as his opinion, ‘I thinks as how, Master Boney, that instead of sending you to Hell bay, they should have sent you to Hell at once.’