CHAPTER XLV.

FRENCH ENTRY INTO PORTUGAL--BLOCKADE OF ENGLAND--FLIGHT OF THE PORTUGUESE ROYAL FAMILY--THE PENINSULAR WAR--FLIGHT OF KING JOSEPH.

On October 18 or 19 Junot entered Portugal, and then it was that John Bull began to fear for his stock of port wine. This is very amusingly put in a picture: ‘In Port, and Out of Port, or news from Portugal,’ which is the title of a caricature by Woodward (November 10, 1807), and it represents Bonaparte seated on a pipe of ‘Genuine Old Port.’ With folded arms he thus speaks: ‘Now Master Jean Bull--more news for you. You’ll soon be out of Port.’ A miserable-looking ‘Portugee’ approaches John Bull, with cap in hand, saying: ‘I be, d’ye see, de poor Portuguese. Vat he mean be de Port Wine; which he will be glad to change for your bag of guineas dere--begar--but dat is mine--between ourselves.’ John Bull, who is sitting down, smoking, with a jug of ale and a huge bagful of guineas by his side, replies: ‘D--n him, and his _Port_ too--I am snug in _Port_, and while I have the port holes of my wooden walls, and a glass of home brew’d ale, his conquests shall never trouble me.’

Napoleon, in a decree dated from Hamburg, November 10, and also in another dated Milan, December 27, again declared England in a state of blockade, and he made all under his sway to cease all connection with that country, as far as commercial matters were concerned; and this is how the caricaturist met it:--

‘Blockade against Blockade, or John Bull a Match for Boney’ (Ansell, November 1807), shows the different sides of a ‘Wall of Blockade.’ John Bull is well victualled, and has a fine surloin of beef, and a full tankard, &c.; and he says: ‘Now Master Boney, we shall see which will hold out the longest, my wall against yours. Aye, aye, I can see you. I have left a peep hole. I believe you will soon be glad to change your Soup Maigre for my Roast beef.’ Boney, with only a basin of Soup Maigre before him, looks very disconsolate: ‘Who could have thought that he would build a wall also--I really think I had better have left him alone--Some how I don’t relish this Soup Maigre.’

‘The Continental Dockyard,’ by Woodward (November 27, 1807), shows a very tumbledown erection, called ‘The Gallic Storehouse for English Shipping,’ but it contains none. It only holds the ‘Yaw Mynheer,’ the ‘Don Diego,’ the ‘Swede,’ the ‘Dane,’ and the ‘Napoleon,’ on which a number of shipwrights are engaged, being driven to their task by Napoleon, with drawn sword. He thus addresses the master shipwright: ‘Begar you must work like de Diable, ve must annihilate dis John Bull.’ The unlucky foreman replies: ‘Please you, my Grand Empereur, ’tis no use vatever. As fast as ve do build dem, he vas clap dem in his storehouse over de way.’ Accordingly, we see in ‘John Bull’s Storehouse’ a large collection of captured vessels from the Armada--‘Portobello,’ ‘Camperdown,’ ‘St. Vincent,’ ‘Nile,’ and ‘Trafalgar.’ John Bull and a number of sailors enjoy this cheering sight. Says he to them: ‘I say my lads, if he goes on this way we shall be overstocked.’ And a sailor remarks: ‘What a deal of pains some people take for nothing.’

I. Cruikshank (December 20, 1807) gives us ‘The Bear, the Monkey, the Turkey, and the Bull, or the true cause of the Russian war.’ Bonaparte, as the French Monkey, is leading the Russian Bear by a collar and chain, and thus addresses him: ‘The case is this, if you will make war against that overgrown Bull over the way, you shall have a slice of that fine Turkey! and the Eastern Star.’ The Turkey is represented as saying: ‘I wish I was well out of their clutches, but I am afraid they will have me at last.’ The _Eastern Star_ appears on the horizon, and represents the Indies. A Bull, on the opposite coast, is in a menacing attitude, and bellows forth: ‘You had better beware, for, remember the old adage--When you play with a Bull, take care of his horns.’

‘John Bull refreshing the Bear’s Memory’ is by I. Cruikshank (December 20, 1807), and shows the former worthy opening an enormous volume, his journal, and thus addressing a crowned bear, who has a collar round his neck inscribed ‘This bear belongs to Napoleon,’ and who regards the book through an enormous pair of spectacles. ‘So you say, Master Bruin, that my visit to Denmark has no parallel in History--do be so good as to turn your spectacles to this page, and refresh your memory.’ And he points to a page of his journal, in which is written: ‘The Great, the Magnanimous, Catherine of Russia seized upon one third of the Kingdom of Poland, and kept it to herself. These peaceful Danes seized on the City of Hamburgh.’

On January 1, 1808, I. Cruikshank published ‘Boney stark mad, or more Ships, Colonies, and Commerce.’ It shows the fleet in the Tagus, and the British Admiral (Sir Sidney Smith) calling out through his speaking-trumpet, ‘Bon jour, Monsieur, if you would like a trip to the Brazils, I’ll conduct you there with a great deal of pleasure; perhaps you would like a taste of Madeira by the way.’ This is to Talleyrand, on whom Bonaparte is venting his rage, kicking him, and tearing off his wig, saying: ‘Stop them, stop them. Murder, fire! Why did you not make more haste, you hopping rascal? now, all my hopes are blasted, my revenge disappointed, and--I’ll glut it on you--Monster--Vagabond--Villain!!!’

The explanation of this caricature is, that as the French army was marching direct to Lisbon, the whole of the Portuguese Royal family embarked for the Brazils, on November 29, under convoy of a British squadron.

‘Delicious Dreams! Castles in the Air! Glorious Prospects! vide an Afternoon Nap after the Fatigues of an Official Dinner,’ is by Gillray (April 10, 1808), and shows the Cabinet asleep, a punch-bowl on the table, and full and empty bottles all around. They are so quiet that the mice are licking the Treasury plates. Behind Castlereagh’s chair is a cat (Catalani). Mr. Perceval sleeps with his arms on the table; the Duke of Portland in the chairman’s seat; Lord Liverpool with his back to the table; Canning, negligently lolling back in his chair, uses Lord Melville, who is under the table, as a footstool. The delicious dream they see has for its background the Tower of London, before which passes Britannia seated on a triumphal car, fashioned somewhat like a ship, and drawn by a bull; and, behind the car, chained to it, come, first, Bonaparte, the Russian Bear, Prussia, Austria, and Spain.

‘The Corsican Tiger at Bay’ (Rowlandson, July 8, 1808) shows Napoleon as a Tiger (or rather, as the artist has depicted him, a leopard), with his fore-feet on four _Royal Greyhounds_, whilst a pack of _Patriotic Greyhounds_ are rushing to attack him. John Bull, standing on the white cliffs of Albion, presents his gun at him, singing the nursery rhyme--

‘There was a little man, And he had a little gun, And his bullets were made of lead----

D--me, but we’ll manage him amongst us.’ The _Russian Bear_ and _Austrian Eagle_ are chained together; but Austria thus proposes: ‘Now, Brother Bruin, is the time to break our chains.’ The Dutch frog, too, joins in the chorus: ‘It will be my turn to have a slap at him next.’

‘Boney Bothered, or an unexpected meeting’ (Ansell, July 9, 1808). This shows Boney having gone right through the world, and, coming out on the other side, planting his foot on the East Indies, at Bengal; but he is utterly astonished to find John Bull there also, armed with his redoubtable oaken cudgel. ‘Begar,’ says he, ‘Monsieur Jean Bull again! Vat! you know I was come here?’ To which John Bull, from whose pocket peeps a bundle of _Secret Intelligence_, replies, ‘To be sure I did--for all your humbug deceptions. I smoked[16] your intentions, and have brought my Oak Twig with me, so now you may go back again.’

We now come to a period of our history which is interesting to all of us--the Peninsular War. Napoleon had turned his attention to Spain, and the Spanish king had abdicated, and been sent to Fontainebleau, with ample allowances. Joseph Bonaparte had been chosen king of Spain, and Murat had his kingdom of Naples. But the Spanish nation did not acquiesce in these arrangements. They broke into open revolt, the English helping them with arms and money, and, on June 6, the Supreme Junta formally declared war against Napoleon. This much is necessary to explain the following caricature:--

Gillray (July 11, 1808) drew ‘The Spanish Bull fight, or the Corsican Matador in danger,’ and kindly tells us that ‘The Spanish Bull is so remarkable for Spirit, that, unless the Matador strikes him dead at the first blow, the Bull is sure to destroy him.’ In the _Theatre Royale de l’Europe_ sits George the Third, a trident in one hand, his spy-glass in the other, keenly watching the exciting fight, as also are the delighted sovereigns of Europe, the Pope, the Sultan of Turkey, and the Dey of Algiers. The Spanish Bull has broken the Corsican chain and collar which bound him, and, trampling on his king, has gored and tossed the Matador, Napoleon, whose sword is broken in an ineffectual attempt to despatch the animal. On the ground are three wounded bulls--Prussian, Dutch, and Danish--bellowing for help.

Woodward gives us a capital caricature in ‘The Corsican Spider in his web’ (July 12, 1808). Napoleon is there represented as a bloated spider, ‘Unbounded ambition,’ and he is just swallowing a Spanish fly. There are plenty of flies in his web--Austrian, Dutch, Portuguese, Hanoverian, Etrurian, Prussian, Hamburg, Italian, Venetian, and small flies innumerable. The Pope fly is just being entangled, and says, ‘I am afraid I shall be dragg’d in.’ ‘The Russian Fly’ has touched the fatal web, and exclaims, ‘I declare I was half in the web before I made the discovery.’ In fact, the only two that are as yet free from the baneful mesh is the Turkish fly, who thinks, ‘I am afraid it will be my turn next,’ and the British fly, who, well and hearty, calls out, ‘Ay, you may look, master Spider, but I am not to be caught in your web.’

To understand the next caricature, which, though dated July 27, must have been published somewhat later, we must note that Joseph Bonaparte entered Madrid, in state, on July 20, but, ominously, without any welcome from the _people_: although money was scattered broadcast, none but the French picked it up. He knew little of what was going on--how Moncey had been obliged to raise the siege of Valencia, and that Dupont had surrendered at Baylen. This latter piece of news he did not receive till the 26th or 27th of July; when he learned also that Castaños, with constantly increasing forces, was marching towards Madrid, he left that city for Vittoria.

A broadside caricature (artist unknown, July 27, 1808) shows Joseph leaving Madrid, his crown falling off, heading his troops, who are carrying off heaps of treasure. It is headed ‘Burglary and Robbery!!! Whereas on the night of the 20th of July last, a numerous gang of French Banditti entered the City of Madrid, and burglariously broke into the Royal Palace, National Bank, and most of the Churches thereof, murdering all who opposed them in their infamous proceedings.

‘The said banditti remained in Madrid until the 27th of the said month, and then suddenly departed, laden with immense booty, having stolen from thence several waggon-loads of plate, and every portable article of value, taking the road to France; all patriotic Spaniards are hereby requested to be aiding, and assisting, in the apprehension of all, or any, of the said robbers; and, whoever apprehends all, or any, of them, shall receive the thanks, and blessings, of every well-disposed person in Europe.

‘The said Banditti were headed by _Joe Nap_, a ferocious ruffian of the following description:--He is about five feet seven inches high, of a meagre, squalid aspect, saffron-coloured complexion. He was, when he escaped, habited in a _royal robe_, which he is known to have stolen from the King’s Wardrobe at Naples. He is a brother of the _noted thief_ who has committed numberless robberies all over Europe, _murdered millions of the human race_, and who was latterly at Bayonne, where it is supposed he tarried, for the purpose of _receiving the stolen goods_ which his brother was to bring from Spain.’

The war, in aid of Spain, against France, was now taken up in earnest, and Sir Arthur Wellesley was sent to Spain with a large body of troops, whilst reinforcements were to come from other quarters.

Almost one of the last of Gillray’s political caricatures, and a very good one it is, is ‘Apotheosis of the Corsican Phœnix’ (August 2, 1808). It has an imaginary quotation from a supposed ‘New Spanish Encyclopædia, edit. 1808. When the Phœnix is tired of Life, he builds a Nest upon the mountains, and setting it on Fire by the wafting of his own Wings, he perishes Himself in the Flames! and from the smoke of his Ashes arises a new _Phœnix_ to illumine the world!!!’ This very graphic etching shows, on the summit of the Pyrenees, a globe, which is the nest of the Phœnix--Napoleon, with orb and sceptre, but, his crown falling off, he has fanned all Europe into a blaze with his wings. Around his neck is a ‘cordon d’honneur’ of daggers, and, amid the smoke which rises from the pyre, is seen a dove with olive branch, having on its wings ‘Peace on earth.’

I. Cruikshank still kept up the idea of _Tiddy-Doll_ in ‘The Oven on Fire--or Boney’s last Batch entirely spoiled!!!’ (August 24, 1808.) He is on his knees, with arms outspread in consternation, for, in putting Dupont, on a ‘peel,’ into the oven--‘Spain and Portugal’--flames burst out, labelled Asturian Legions, Army of Portugal, Biscay, Catalonian Army, Army of Galicia, Andalusian Army, Army of New and Old Castille, British Army and Fleet, Estramadurean Army, Leon, Army of Valencia, Murcia, and Army of Granada; whilst in the centre of the flames is the legend ‘A people United can never be conquered.’ Poor Dupont exclaims, ‘Oh Nap, Nap! what is this? Instead of a King, you’ve only made me a Dup(e)ont.’ Bonaparte himself cries out, ‘Zounds, I shall be overwhelmed with this Patriotic Blaze. I did not think there was a single spark left, but I find there is more than all the Engines of France can extinguish.’ Talleyrand, who stands by his kneading-trough, which is labelled ‘State Prison,’ rests quiet, and says, ‘Aye Aye, I told you that you would burn your fingers at that batch of Ginger-bread--but I have nothing to do with it. I am only a _Jailor_, so there is an end to all my glory.’

We have seen the European monarchs sitting down to a game of quadrille. Ansell (August 1808) gives us its conclusion. Spain has suddenly arisen, and, upsetting the table, seizes Napoleon by the throat, accusing him of foul play: ‘I tell you, you are a Scoundrel, and if you do not restore my King, whom you have stolen from the other table, and reinstate _Ponto_--by the honor of a Spanish Patriot, I will strangle you.’ Trembling Bonaparte replies, ‘Don’t be so boisterous, I only borrowed him, merely to make up the pack.’ The Pope is on the floor, and the stolid Dutchman, with his hat in hand, says, ‘Donder and Blixens, I be quite tired of de game. Yaw! Yaw! now is de time for me to rise.’ At the other table all take a lively interest in the squabble. George the Third rises from his seat and grasps his ‘heart of oak’ stick, saying, ‘What! what! a dust, eh? so much the better. Boney got the worst of the game. I must lend a hand.’ Russia, with hand on sword, turns in his chair, remarking that ‘Now is the time to rub off the rust of Tilsit.’ Prussia rises, exclaiming, ‘If I don’t take advantage of the present opportunity, I shall indeed be a Prussian Cake.’ Austria reaches his hat and sword from its peg on the wall, and says, ‘Ah! Ah! the game has taken a different turn from what I expected, I must not be idle.’

The next caricature relates to the bad success of Napoleon’s arms. The raising the siege of Saragossa, the defeat of Vimiera, and the Convention of Cintra, by which the French were to evacuate Portugal, were not facts likely to be relished in France.

‘The Fox and the Grapes’ is another of Woodward’s (September 15, 1808), where the Corsican Fox interviews the Gallic Cock. The former says, ‘Believe me, my dear Doodle doo, you would not like them--I found them so _sour_ that I absolutely could not _touch_ them,’ in answer to the Cock’s query--‘But my good friend, you promised to bring me home some Spanish Grapes and Portugal plums: where are they?’

‘Prophecy explained’ is by Rowlandson (September 17, 1808), and the text taken is from the Revelation of St. John (chap. xvii. verse 10): ‘And there are seven kings, five are fallen, and _one_ is, and the other is not yet come, and when he cometh he must continue but a short space.’ The five that are fallen are the Kings of Würtemberg, Saxony, Holland, Bavaria, and Prussia, and these have fallen into a ‘Slough of Disgrace and Ridicule.’ The ‘_one_ that is,’ it is needless to say, is Napoleon; and the ‘one that continued but a short space,’ is King Joseph, who, having been chased beyond the Pyrenees, has his crown snatched from him. There are many other caricatures on this subject of the flight of Joseph, but, although interesting, they hardly come within the scope of _personal_ satire on Napoleon.

Rowlandson gives us (September 20, 1808) ‘Napoleon the little in a Rage with his great French Eagle!!’ Napoleon, with his sword drawn, and his hands clenched, is in a terrible rage with his brother Joseph, who, under the guise of a crowned eagle, is limping along with one leg in a sling. Napoleon thus addresses him: ‘Confusion and Destruction--what is this I see? Did I not command you not to return till you had spread your Wing of Victory over the whole Spanish Nation?’ And the poor bird meekly replies: ‘Aye, its fine talking Nap, but if you had been there, you would not much have liked it--The Spanish Cormorants pursued me in such a manner, that they not only disabled one of my legs, but set me a moulting in such a terrible way that I wonder I had not lost every feather; besides, it got so hot, I could not bear it any longer.’

There is a caricature (September 24, 1808) of ‘A hard passage, or Boney playing Base on the Continent.’ He is here represented as playing on the bass viol from the score of the ‘Conquest of Spain and Portugal.’ His task seems hard, and he exclaims: ‘Plague take it! I never met with so difficult a _passage_ before. But, if I can once get over the _Flats_, we shall do pretty well, for you see the _Key_ will then change into _B_ sharp.’ A muzzled Russian bear is trying to play on the French horn, and says: ‘Why that is _Natural_ enough, brother Boney, though this _French horn_ of yours seems rather out of order.’