CHAPTER LVI.

NAPOLEON AT ELBA--HIS OCCUPATIONS WHILST THERE--FAITH BROKEN WITH HIM--THE VIOLET--GENERAL REJOICINGS AT HIS EXILE.

In the ‘Satirist’ of May 1, 1814, is a picture by G. Cruikshank, called ‘_Otium cum dignitate_, or a view of Elba.’ It is not a good one. Napoleon, ragged and stockingless, smoking a short clay pipe, is blowing up the fire with a pair of bellows. Bertrand is kissing a female, probably Pauline, on the sly, and Jerome Bonaparte is mending nets.

‘Boney’s Elbow/Elba Chair, a new Throne for a new Emperor; or an old sinner brought to the stool of repentance. A dialogue between one of his admirers & John Bull, on his being laid up with a cutaneous or skin disorder’ (G. Cruikshank, May 5, 1814). Boney is in his rocky home raggedly dressed, with a fool’s cap on his head, and sitting on a close stool. He is surrounded with medicine-bottles and pots of brimstone and itch salve, and he is scratching himself violently. John Bull says:--

‘So! your poor friend Nap Boney is kick’d from a throne, And must sit on a stool close at Elba alone.’ ‘He is _not_ poor,’ said Nic, ‘he has got fat and grown flabby.’ ‘He has also,’ said John, ‘got the Itch, or grown scabby. For not even his wife will consent to go nigh him; And all his old Mamelukes flout and defy him; Perhaps thou, in pity, will lift up his latch, And rub him with Brimstone or help him to scratch. Pray go, and take with thee the birds of thy feather, And all catch the Itch, or grow scabby together.’

‘Needs must when Wellington Drives, or Louis’s Return!!’ (May 1814) is a very badly drawn picture by Marks. Louis the Eighteenth, unable to walk, by reason of the gout, is being drawn along in a sort of Bath chair by Napoleon, and attended on either side by Blücher and Wellington. The latter is punishing poor Napoleon with a birch-rod, saying meanwhile, ‘I desire, you will sing God save the King.’ Boney, with his handkerchief to his eyes, says, ‘I’ll be d--d if I do.’ Blücher is of opinion, ‘You’l be d--d whether you do or not.’

A very commonplace caricature is ‘The Tyrant, overtaken by Justice, is excluded from the world,’ and it would not be noticed here did it not introduce us to a new artist, L. M. (? Lewis Marks). Napoleon, chained to his rock, disconsolately gazes at that world which he may not reach, the Devil meanwhile pointing the finger of scorn at him (May 1814).

In ‘the departure of Apollo and the Muses--or Farewell to Paris’ (May 1814), by I. Sidebotham, we have the restitution of the art treasures, taken by Napoleon, to their different owners--a long string of waggons, filled with pictures, &c., are labelled Holland, Italy, Venice, Berlin, and Vienna. Louis the Eighteenth, at the Louvre, laments it, and says, ‘Dear Talley, persuade them to leave us a few of these pretty things for my _chambers_, they will pacify the Deputies, and amuse the people.’ Talleyrand replies, ‘I have tried every scheme to retain them, but it seems they have _at last_ found us out, and are not to be humbug’d any longer.’ Apollo and the Muses have mounted a fine gold car, which is drawn, not only by horses, but by the British Lion as well--the former being postilioned by Blücher; the latter by the Duke of Wellington, who calls out, ‘Go along, Blucher, let us haste to restore the stolen Goods.’

Of his entry into Elba the poet thus sings:--

On board th’ Undaunted he embark’d-- ‘A noble vessel,’ he remark’d, And now the banish’d malefactor (So late a wild and busy actor), His entry into Elba made Upon the fourth of May. ’Tis said To see the wondrous little man Th’ inhabitants all eager ran. A great blue coat our hero sported, And was most pompously escorted; Three fiddles and two fifes preceded, For he some consolation needed; _Pity my fall_ became the strain Which they struck up to sooth his pain; ‘Oh change that doleful air,’ he said, And therefore the musicians played, In hopes to comfort the poor elf, _Go to the De’il, and shake yourself_. ‘Give me a horse,’ he cried; of course Nap was provided with a horse, And round the island quick he rode, Which his wild disposition shewed; The little children, at his view, Cried out, ‘Oh, there’s a _bug-a-boo_!’ Without a wife--without a mother,[43] Without a sister, or a brother, And even of a friend bereft, Poor Nap is to his conscience left.

On June 4, 1814, was published (artist unknown) ‘An Imperial vomit’ in which Bonaparte is disgorging the kingdoms he has swallowed up. The Prince Regent, behind him, says, ‘I think now my little fellow, you are pretty well clear’d out, and I hope you will never give us the trouble to Prescribe or Proscribe any more.’

‘Drumming out of the French Army!!!’ is the title of a picture published in June 1814. Blücher has Bonaparte in a drum, which he carries before him, beating him alternately with a birch-rod and a drum-stick, Russia, Prussia, and Austria looking on.

Lewis Marks produced, in June 1814, ‘Boney and his new subjects at Elba.’ The poverty-stricken condition to which the Emperor is reduced is too graphically portrayed, and his ragged army of four is very vividly illustrated. He thus addresses them: ‘Gentlemen, my friends despise and d--n England, Russia, Prussia, Germany, and Sweden, and obey me--and I will make kings of you all.’

Napoleon might well say that his ‘territory was somewhat small;’ but, small as it was, his restless activity set to work to improve it. He made roads where none had existed, canals and aqueducts, a lazaretto, and stations for tunny-fishing. Vineyards were improved, and the little island was quite prosperous. Numerous visitors came to pay their respects to the Emperor, causing money to be spent; vessels brought provisions, and took away what the inhabitants had to export. Porto Ferrajo was gay and lively, its name being changed to Cosmopoli. A new flag was manufactured, having a red bend dexter, charged with three bees on a white field, and Moorish pirates were very chary of touching vessels bearing this flag. In May Cambrone brought out some volunteers of the old guard, and Napoleon exercised and inspected his little army.

But these things cost money, and that was one of the things wanting to Napoleon. The conditions of the treaty with him were shamefully broken. Hear what he says himself about it:[44] ‘It was stipulated and agreed to, that all the members of my family should be allowed to follow me to Elba; but, in violation of that, my wife and child were seized, detained, and never permitted to join a husband and a father. They were also to have had the Duchies of Parma, Placentia, and Guastalla, which they were deprived of. By the treaty, Prince Eugene was to have had a principality in Italy, which was never given. My mother and brothers were to receive pensions, which were also refused to them. My own private property, and the savings which I had made on the civil list, were to have been preserved for me. Instead of that, they were seized in the hands of Labouillerie the treasurer, contrary to the treaty, and all claims made by me rejected. The private property of my family was to be held sacred: it was confiscated. The dotations assigned to the army on the Mont Napoleon were to be preserved: they were suppressed; nor were the hundred thousand francs which were to be given as pensions to persons pointed out by me, ever paid. Moreover, assassins were sent to Elba to murder me. Never,’ continued Napoleon, ‘have the terms of a treaty been more evidently violated, and indeed openly scoffed at, than those were by the allies.’

Louis the Eighteenth was very tame after Napoleon, who, in spite of his draining France of men and treasure, had implanted a deep personal love for him in the hearts of his people; and, from some fancied saying of his, that ‘he would return in the spring,’ the violet, the flower of spring, was taken as his emblem, and so worn. He was spoken of under the name of Caporal Violette, or Papa Violette, and the people comforted themselves with ‘En printemps il reviendra.’

There were several coloured engravings of bunches of violets, bearing the portraits of Napoleon, Maria Louisa, and the King of Rome--or Prince of Parma, as he was then called--published in France; notably one by Cann, ‘Violettes du 20 Mars 1815,’ from which, in all probability, Cruikshank took his caricature of ‘The Peddigree of Corporal Violet (G. H. inv^t et del. etched by G. Cruikshank 9 June 1815)’; but, in the arrangement of the flowers, it is superior to any of the French pictures that I have seen.

For want of space, I have but partially reproduced it. It is described ‘First as a Consular Toad Stool, rising from a Corsican Dunghill, then changing to an Imperial Sun Flower, from that to an Elba fungus’ (where the illustration commences), ‘and lastly to a bunch of Violets, which are so disposed as to represent a _whole length Profile of Buonaparte_, with a bust of _Maria Louisa_, and her Son, the _Prince of Parma_,’ which portraits, undoubtedly existing in the picture, will be a pleasing exercise of patience on the part of my readers to discover.

Although not English caricature, I may be pardoned for giving, as a type of then French feeling, a song sung by the troops amongst themselves. It is full of slang of the period, which the notes will elucidate:--

Pendant que Louis Dix-huit à gogo[45] Mangeait, buvait, faisait dodo,[46] Un beau jour, le Papa Quitte son île, et le voilà!

_Chorus._ Chantons le père de la violette Au bruit de sons,[47] et de canons!

Quand à la cour on sait cela, Le Comte d’Artois monte son dada,[48] Mais pour barrer le Papa, Il faut un autre luron[49] que ça! Chantons, &c.

During Napoleon’s exile Josephine had died, on May 29. She had lived quite long enough, and had experienced as many, and as great, vicissitudes as any woman.

In June the Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia and his sons, with a numerous suite, visited London, and were made LL.D.’s at Oxford, great fun being made at the time about conferring the degree on Blücher, _Dr._ Blücher figuring in many caricatures.

‘John Bull mad with Joy! or the First of August 1814,’ shows the old fellow in ecstasies of delight. He has thrown away his hat, and is waving his wig, dancing all the time. The Prince Regent says, ‘Ah, ha! Johnny, I knew you’d be delighted,’ and shows him the ‘Bill of Fare of the Grand National Jubilee for the Peace of 1814. Hyde Park--A grand fair--Mess^{rs} Gyngall, Richardson, and Punches shows--a grand sea fight upon the Serpentine--Fireworks in Kensington Gardens--plenty of gin and beer--St. James’ Park--a Balloon--Chinese bridge and Pagoda--Boat race on the Canal--fireworks--plenty of port, sherry, claret, champagne, &c., &c., &c. Green Park--Castle and Temple--Fireworks and Royal Booths.’ In his right hand the capering and joyous John swings a miniature gallows, on which hang the prince’s enemies, and he cries out in his joy, ‘Huzza for the Prince of Princes! Damn the lying London Papers! May Whitbread be drown’d in one of his own butts! and Tierney be choked with his long speeches. Here I have your enemies as they should be! I shall stick this in my Corn field to frighten the Crows! so Huzza, again and again, for the Prince of Princes.’

This was the outcome of the Grand Jubilee on August 1, which was celebrated in London--notably in the parks. ‘Mad with joy’ was the proper expression. See what this peace meant for the nation--a revival of trade, a remission of taxes, cheaper provisions, the reuniting to their families of beloved ones who had undergone so much for their country. No one can wonder that the people went ‘mad with joy,’ and were not ashamed to confess it. There was a pagoda on a Chinese[50] bridge thrown over the canal in St. James’s Park, and at night fireworks were displayed thereon. Chinese lanterns all along the Mall and Birdcage Walk. In the Green Park was a ‘Temple of Concord,’ near which was a fine booth for the accommodation of the foreign ambassadors and guests whom the Regent delighted to honour. Small men-of-war waged a mimic sea-fight on the Serpentine, and in Hyde Park was a regular fair. Sadler went up in his balloon, but nearly came to grief, and descended somewhat precipitately in Mucking Marshes, on the Essex coast, sixteen miles below Gravesend. Sad to say, about midnight the pagoda caught fire, and two people lost their lives. The fair in Hyde Park was kept going for several days afterwards.

So we leave the year 1814, with Napoleon seemingly safe, yet far from contented, and the English people revelling in the new and welcome blessings of peace.