November 22, 1813. The Norwich Bull Feast, or Glory and Gluttony. Published by T. Tegg (232).—The success gained by the allied armies over Napoleon and his forces, and the series of French disasters which had culminated at Leipzig, gave rise to rejoicings all over the country, in celebration of the supposed final downfall of the Corsican Emperor, the traditional enemy of England, as the people had been taught to consider him. Norwich, according to the print, is the scene of disorderly revelry. A huge bullock has been roasted whole in the market-place, and the carcase is being cut up and distributed in the streets; the unruly mob fighting over the morsels and wrenching the bones from those who are ravenously picking them; scuffles, struggles, scrimmages, and savage onslaughts are the order of the day. At the same time a puncheon of beer or spirits is broached for gratuitous distribution, and a pretty spectacle of misrule is the consequence. The fair sex are represented as the chief competitors for the drink; pails, cans, and jugs are eagerly filled, and as greedily emptied; the contents being poured down the throats of the holders or down those of their friends, who are opening their mouths to receive the liquor, which is gushing forth in streams. The incidents surrounding the liquor-cart are, if possible, more disreputable and degrading than those transpiring on all sides of the trestles on which the ox is being dismembered by a pair of butcher's men, armed with a chopper and a huge carver. Some of the female patriots are reduced to insensibility, and efforts are being made to revive one poor creature, who is lying unconscious in the midst of the struggling mass, either overpowered by the potency of the drink or smothered by the pressure; buckets of the fluid are being emptied over the prostrate sufferer by tipsy Samaritans, without alleviating her condition.
The town of Norwich is given up to the gala; flags are flying, and illuminations and fireworks render the sight more animated. A tumultuous procession is struggling along, bearing guns, pikes, &c., and carrying the effigy of Buonaparte to be gibbeted or burnt at a bonfire. Flags head the mob, inscribed Downfall of the Tyrant; [Peace and Plenty], &c.
A LONG PULL, A STRONG PULL, AND A PULL ALL TOGETHER.
November 25, 1813. [A Long Pull, a Strong Pull, and a Pull All together.] Published by T. Tegg (233).—The end of 1813 promised to witness the downfall of the great 'little Boney;' one misfortune followed another; ally after ally abandoned the conqueror, who in the hour of victory had behaved magnanimously to the subjugated States, and they in return deserted their new friend when disasters were pressing on him—a sure proof of the danger of confiding in alliances extracted at the point of the sword or made in bad faith on grounds of desperate expediency. As we have seen, the blow came from the North: the treachery of Bernadotte, King of Sweden, a man who owed his elevation to the Emperor, pointed the way to prostrate Europe to free herself from the ambitious thraldom of Napoleon; the Russian Bear broke his false slumbers, the Austrian and Prussian Eagles escaped from their chains, Spain was cleared of the invaders, and lastly the Kingdom of Holland revolted in the rear of the disabled Corsican. The king, Napoleon's brother, Louis, whom he had imposed on this kingdom, had voluntarily abdicated the crown in favour of his son, a minor, in 1810. The subject is treated allegorically by Rowlandson. The Sun of Tyranny is setting on the deep; the fleets of the allies are riding on the seas, which are once more free, and the Dutch are helping to push off the Texel fleet to join the common cause. As the Allies marched against France after Napoleon's defeat at Leipzig, a combined force was sent against Holland, which had been incorporated with the French Empire in 1810, and placed under the constitution of Jan. 1, 1811, the seventeen provinces of the Netherlands being united under the dominion of France. The Prussian and Russian forces, under General Bülow, were joined by a detachment from England under General Graham; the old Orange party once more came into activity, and on November 30, 1813, the hereditary Stadtholder arrived at the Hague. The caricaturist has simplified his view of the situation by ignoring the change of affairs that had intervened since 1810, when the Duke of Piacenza became the Emperor's representative in Amsterdam until 1811, when the State was merged into the French Empire. The artist has assumed that the kingdom had remained as administered at the resignation of Louis, July 1, 1810; and accordingly the abdicated monarch, without his crown, is pictured dancing about in a distracted state on the soil of Holland, deploring: 'Oh! Brother Nap, Brother Nap, we shan't be left with half a crown a-piece!' Napoleon is represented, according to the usual fashion of the satirists, flying about in an ungovernable frenzy as he views the receding fleet and recognises the revolt of the Netherlanders: 'Oh! Brother Joe, I'm all fire; my passion eats me up! Such unlooked-for storms of ills fall on me! It beats down all my cunning; I cannot bear it! My ears are filled with noise, my eyes grow dim, and feeble shakings seize every limb!'
The Long Pull, Strong Pull, and a Pull all together is taking place on the mainland. The weight and persevering force of John Bull is telling on the towing-line; the Don Spaniard is hand-over-hand with the national prototype, a condition of things marvellously altered since the days of the caricature. A Russian, in furs, is the next in energy; an Austrian huzzar has the rope well over his shoulder; a Prussian and others are throwing their exertions into the haul; and all is moving as merrily as could be desired.
November 27, 1813. The Corsican Toad under a Harrow. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The Corsican, who is represented as both prematurely aged and haggard, is sprawled, spread-eaglewise, on the ground; upon him is a formidable harrow, which is kept in its place by the obese figure of a traditional Hollander, who is leisurely smoking, with his hands in his pockets and an Orange favour in his hat, in philosophic indifference to the situation and sufferings of the victim, who is exclaiming, 'Oh! this heavy Dutchman! Oh! had I not enough to bear before!!!'
A Cossack is goading on the prostrate leader of the French with his lance; and a bird of prey is swooping down, attracted by the smell of carrion. The harrow is in vigorous hands, representatives of Austria, Prussia, and other German Powers; Spaniards, Portuguese, and a British tar are tugging away with hearty good-will.