CHAPTER XLIV.

NAPOLEON’S POLISH CAMPAIGN--BATTLE OF EYLAU--MEETING OF THE EMPERORS AT TILSIT--CAPTURE OF THE DANISH FLEET.

1807 commences with ‘JOHN BULL playing on the BASE Villain’ (artist unknown, January 1, 1807), in which we see that revered personage playing ‘Britains Strike home’ on poor Boney, with a sword in lieu of a bow, and grasping him tightly round the neck.

In November 1806, Napoleon, with his army, had entered Poland, and, on December 18 of the same year, he entered Warsaw.

An unknown artist (January 1807) depicts ‘The Entrance into Poland or another Bonne Bouche for Boney.’ On their knees are the Polish magnates, who exclaim: ‘What a happy day for Poland!’ The foremost is kissing the toe of Napoleon, who says: ‘Rise up _free_ and _independent_ Polanders, depend upon it you shall have a King, and I’ll be Vice Roy _over him_.’ Behind, a standard-bearer carries a flag, on which is shown a pair of shackles, a guillotine, and two crossed swords, with the legend, ‘Comfort for the Poles.’ Beside him, another French soldier is emptying a sack of fetters.

The Russians withdrew for a time, but only to return in force, and Napoleon had to change his tactics to meet them; he therefore proposed to concentrate his forces, and compel the Russians to give battle, with the Vistula in their rear, and he himself between them and Russia. His despatches, however, were intercepted, and the battle was precipitated. Augereau’s division lost its way, and was cut up by the Russians; and Bernadotte did not come, as the despatches, bidding him do so, had been captured. The fight in the snow at Preuss Eylau was fearful, and the carnage, especially in the churchyard, was horrible. Four thousand men died there. The French put down their loss in this battle as 2,000 killed, 6,000 wounded; while the loss of the Russians was 7,000 dead, 16,000 wounded, 12,000 prisoners, and 45 cannon taken.

That the blockade still galled us is evidenced by a caricature of Woodward’s (January 27, 1807), who designed ‘The Giant Commerce overwhelming the Pigmy Blockade.’ Commerce is a strange figure: its cap is _Wedgwood ware_, its face _Staffordshire ware_, its eyes _Derby Porcelain_, and its mouth _Worcester porcelain_. Its body is _Wool_, arms of _printed calico_, and its hands are encased in _Woodstock gloves_. It wears a _Norwich shawl_, has _leather_ breeches, _Fleecy hosiery_ stockings, and _Staffordshire_ shoes. It is actively employed in hurling various missiles at Napoleon, who is sheltered behind his fortifications. These implements of offence consist of such articles as _Birmingham steel_, _pig iron_, _scissors_, _combs_, _knives and forks_, _block tin_, _sugar_, _patent coffins_, _Birmingham buttons_, and a cask each of _London porter_, _Maidstone_, _Geneva_, and _British spirits_. Napoleon entreats: ‘Pray Mr. Commerce don’t overwhelm me, and I will take off de grande Blockade of old England.’

The two following caricatures were designed and published before the news had arrived in England of the crushing defeat of the Russians at Eylau, which only appeared publicly in the ‘Times’ of March 10.

Ansell (March 1807) gives ‘Boney and his Army in Winter Quarters.’ In the background is a _State Prison for Prisoners of War_; and, in the centre of the picture, the Russian bear hugs poor Boney, and prepares to drop him in the river Bug, in which is a board inscribed, ‘Hic Jacet. Snug in the Bug several thousands of the great nation.’ Bruin growls: ‘Hush a bye! Hush a bye! take it all quietly, you’ll soon find yourself as snug as a bug in a rug.’ But Boney, writhing in the embrace, cries out: ‘Oh D--n the Bug, I wish I had never seen it. My dear Talley--don’t tell my faithful subjects the true state of my situation. Any thing but the truth, my dear Talley--Oh this Cursed Russian bear, how close he hugs me.’ Talleyrand, with one foot in the Vistula, and the other on land, replies: ‘Leave me alone for a Bulletin’--applies his lips to a trumpet, from which issues a true and a false report. The true one, ‘4000 prisoners, 3000 drowned, 12 Eagles taken, 12000 killed,’ is disappearing into thin air; whilst that ‘For Paris’ is as follows: ‘Grand Bulletin. The august Emperor of the great Nation informs his faithful, and beloved, subjects, that, having performed wonders on the banks of the Bug, he has now closed a glorious campaign for the season, and retired with ease, and comfort, into Winter quarters.’

‘The Political Cock horse’ (Souley, March 10, 1807) shows Napoleon’s somewhat ragged white charger stumbling over a stone, ‘Insatiable Ambition.’ Benningsen has jumped up behind him, seized the reins, and hurled Boney to the ground. In his fall he loses his sword ‘Oppression,’ and cries out pitifully, ‘Stop, stop, good Benningsen, don’t kill a poor fellow! An Armistice! an Armistice! I have very good proposals of peace for you.’ But the relentless Russian prepares to run him through with his sword, saying: ‘You Bombastic Scoundrel, Robber, Murderer, Violator, Incendiary, &c., &c., &c. You thought of reigning with your Iron Crown (in) the North, as well as the South. But know, Tyrant, that the Sons of the North are to be your Superior.’ John Bull encourages him with ‘Bravo, bravo, brave Russians: One home stroke more, and good bye to Master Boney.’

Of Gillray’s caricature of ‘The New Dynasty; or the little Corsican Gardener Planting a Royal Pippin Tree,’ only a portion is given--that relating to Napoleon. The Old Royal Oak is being hewn down by ‘All the Talents,’ and Talleyrand is busy digging a hole to receive Napoleon’s royal pippin, which is to take its place. The topmost pippin, which is crowned, represents Lord Moira, who claimed to be descended from the old kings of Ballynahinch. The others are, ‘Countess of Salisbury beheaded 1505,’ ‘Duchess of Cleves put to death in 1453,’ ‘Henry de la Pole beheaded in 1538,’ ‘Plantagenet beheaded in 1415,’ ‘Crookback Richard killed at Bosworth,’ ‘Edmund, 4th son of Henry 2, beheaded.’ The royal pippins behind, which have already been planted, and have taken root, are labelled respectively, ‘Etruria, Wurtemburg, Saxon, Holland, and Italian;’ whilst on the ground, by a basket, are grafts, which respectively represent Sir Francis Burdett, Cobbett, and Horne Tooke.

Napoleon pursued his victories over the Russians. Dantzig was taken; at Friedland the Russians lost 18,000 men and 25 generals, killed and wounded, and at last Königsberg was taken by Soult, after having been evacuated by the Russians. It was time for them to beg for an armistice, and on June 21 one was concluded. Napoleon was asked to have an interview with the Emperor of Russia, to which he consented, and Tilsit was the place appointed; and, in order that this meeting should be quite private, and free from interruption, Napoleon ordered a large raft to be moored in the middle of the Niemen, on which was erected a room with two antechambers, all elegantly furnished and decorated. Both the roof and the doors were ornamented with French and Russian eagles. On June 25 they met; Napoleon reached the raft first, and stood on its edge to welcome Alexander. They met and parted in a most friendly manner. This incident, it is needless to say, afforded a fine subject to the caricaturist.

Ansell gives us, certainly, a more comic representation of the meeting of the Emperors than any other caricaturist (July 1807). Bonaparte is hugging the Emperor of Russia in a most exaggerated style, saying: ‘My dear Brother--receive this Fraternal Embrace out of pure affection.’ But Russia, finding the raft tilting violently, and not liking such demonstrative affection, exclaims, ‘Zounds, Brother, you’ll squeeze me to death--besides, I find my side of the raft is sinking very fast.’ Poor Prussia is floundering in the water, his crown floating away from him: ‘What a Prussian cake I was to listen to him--I am afraid I shall never recover it.’

Nap, with the hopes of peace delighted, The Russian Emperor invited, And for this interview, with craft, Had been prepar’d a pretty raft, Which on the river Niemen floated, With two commodious tents, devoted To the sole use of the contractors, Who were indeed conspicuous actors; The signal given, as commanded, Each from his boat together landed, And on this raft, their ends to get, By Nap, was Alexander met-- Exchanging the fraternal hug They took their seats in manner snug; When Nap began his wheedling jargon, And made, depend on’t, a good bargain. The peace of Tilsit, as recorded, A temporary rest afforded.

And now three sovereigns, they say, Sat down together very gay: Meaning the Emperor of Russia, Our hero, and the King of Prussia: Their visits to each other, they Alternately were wont to pay. Napoleon talk’d of this and that, And entertain’d them with his chat. Their life guards, who were much delighted, To dinner, were by Nap invited, The brotherly embrace went round, There was not a discordant sound. In harmony the day they spent, Each countenance display’d content. Now matters were so well arrang’d, A while they uniforms exchang’d, And after they had dined, and talk’d, Together through the streets they walked.

Ansell drew (July 1807) ‘An Imperial Bonne bouche, or the dinner at Tilsit.’ Napoleon, attended by his guards, sits on one side of the table, and the Emperor of Russia opposite to him; the latter has but an empty plate, and a castor of cayenne pepper before him, whilst Napoleon is stuffing his mouth with ‘Continental slices,’ and has besides, immediately before him, ‘Austerlitz biscuit,’ ‘Friedland Pye,’ and ‘Eylau Custard,’ which he intends carving with his sword. But he banters his brother Emperor with ‘My dear Brother, you dont eat; What is the matter with you? see what a hearty meal our other beloved Cousin, and brother, is making, from the Crumbs that fall from the table.’ And Prussia is seen on his knees, picking up some fragments of a ‘Prussian Cake.’ Russia, with expectant knife and fork, looks very blankly at his _confrère_, and replies: ‘How the deuce, brother, am I to eat when you keep everything to yourself?’

‘Mutual Honors at Tilsit, or the Monkey, the Bear and the Eagle’ (August 1807), by Ansell, represents Napoleon, as a monkey, seated on a drum, having a plaque upon his breast, inscribed ‘Order of St. Andrew, to our Faithful &c. &c. &c. Fudge,’ decorating a bear with ‘The Legion of Honor. To our trusty and beloved Cousin &c. &c. Fudge.’ The poor bear wears a fool’s cap and bells, and is muzzled, whilst its throat is galled by a spiked collar, called, in irony, ‘Collar of Independence.’ Napoleon says, ‘Really, Brother Bruin--you never look’d so fine in your life. You cannot think how the medal, and cap and bells, become you.’ But the bear ruefully ruminates, ‘I shall really be ashamed to return to my own Fraternity. I wonder what my old Friend, the Lion, will say.’ The Prussian eagle is also decorated with the collar of the Legion of Honour, but is in a wofully dilapidated condition, which is well explained by its own reflections: ‘It is certainly very fine--but, what with having one of my heads chopped off--and the crown half cracked of the other; besides having my wings cropp’d, I think, somehow, I was better off before.’

The English, perforce, had to keep up their courage, and one etching, by Ansell (August 1807), represents, in the background, Napoleon on his throne, and all the European sovereigns grovelling before him. The foreground is occupied by Britannia and John Bull. The former asks: ‘Do give me your advice--what am I to do--All my foreign Allies have deserted me,--even Russia has joined them, they are bending at the feet of the usurper.’ John Bull, a truculent-looking sailor, with oaken Cudgel, replies: ‘What are you to do? Why stick to me, your old and faithful ally John Bull, who will never desert you while he has a timber to support him.’ The picture is called ‘Britannia in tribulation for the loss of her Allies, or John Bull’s advice.’

In ‘The Polish Pie, or the Effects of the Peace at Tilsit’ (artist unknown, September 10, 1807), we see the Emperor of Russia, and Napoleon, carving a huge ‘Polish pie,’ the Russian’s opinion of which is ‘I think I never relished a Pie so well in all my life.’ Whilst thus engaged, comes poor, wounded, tattered Prussia, humbly, with hat in hand: ‘Pray give a part of the Pie to a poor broken-down Prussian--You know you promised me formerly you would not touch it; but now you have reduced me to poverty, crutches, and a wooden leg--you’ll not allow me a mouthfull, ’tis a very hard case indeed! Pray remember a poor Prussian!’ Napoleon turns to his brother Emperor, and opines, ‘Suppose, Cousin, we give him a small piece of the _Crust_, just to keep him from grumbling.’

The Danes sought to curry favour with Napoleon, or perhaps they were obliged to act as they did; but they closed their ports, such as Holstein, &c., to British ships, which John Bull could not stand. So Admiral Gambier, with a fleet, having on board 20,000 troops, sailed to set matters right. Negotiations failed, and the admiral used the _force majeure_ at his disposal. Copenhagen was bombarded, and on September 8 the British took possession of the fortifications, &c., of Copenhagen, captured the whole Danish fleet, fully armed and equipped, consisting of 18 sail of the line, 15 frigates, 6 brigs, and 25 gun-boats, which were safely navigated to England, with the exception of one ship, which was stranded. Unfortunately, Copenhagen itself suffered severely, guns not being so scientifically constructed as at present, and accuracy as to range was impossible.

‘Gulliver towing the Fleet into Lilliput!’ (I. Cruikshank, October 16, 1807) shows Admiral Gambier swimming towards England, towing the captured vessels. George the Third, on a Martello tower, watching him through his spy-glass, and saying, with his accustomed iteration, ‘What, What, Gulliver the 2nd--he--Gulliver the 2nd--More Nelsons--more Nelsons--brave fellows!’ On the Continent Napoleon is seen furious, and the countries under his sway are in different attitudes of despair. Napoleon shouts out, ‘Curse that fellow; here, Tally, stop him: what! will nobody stop him? Then begar, we never shall invade England, and all our schemes are frustrated.’ On the coast of Zealand a Jack Tar is thus explaining to a native: ‘Hold your jaw; You know as how you used to rob our forefathers, you lubber, and so you wanted to assist that French Monkey to do it again, but it would not do.’

Ansell published (October 21, 1807) ‘Malignant Aspects looking with envy on John Bull and his Satellites, or, a New Planetary System.’ In a centre medallion sits John Bull, happily smoking, and with a jug of good October by his side. He is surrounded by the British navy, and a halo of glory. Rushing towards him is ‘A Corsican Comet Frenchified,’ and chained to him is ‘A Russian bear with two heads, an appendage to the Comet.’ There is a ‘Danish Mouse,’ an ‘Italian Greyhound,’ an ‘American Torpedo,’ a ‘Swiss Cheese,’ a ‘Spanish Puff,’ a ‘Dutch frog,’ besides many ‘minor Constellations with malignant aspects.’