CHAPTER LVIII.

PREPARATIONS FOR WAR--THE SHORT CAMPAIGN--WATERLOO--NAPOLEON’S ABDICATION.

‘The Royal Allied Oak and self-created mushroom Kings’ is a curiosity on account of the many profiles contained therein. An account of them is given as under:--

Behold the Oak whose firm fix’d stay Doth check Oppression’s course, Whose slightest branch can ne’er decay, While strong with Virtue’s force.

Our much lov’d Sovereign decks the branch, The highest of the Tree: And peaceful Louis tho’ driven from France, Among its boughs you’ll see.

The Regent’s Portrait next behold, Whose Councils Wisdom guides; And Russia’s noble Monarch bold, Who check’d the Tyrant’s strides.

Immortal Wellington next is seen, Whose fame can ne’er expire; And vet’ran Blucher’s warlike mien That kindled Napoleon’s ire.

The Mushroom race you have to seek In weeds about the root, Who scarce dare at the Oak to peep, Or at its princely fruit.

This clever picture is by I. Field, and was published May 29, 1815.

S. T. Taw, a new caricaturist, gives us ‘The Crown Candidates, or a modest request politely refused’ (May 1815). Louis the Eighteenth, Napoleon, and the young King of Rome are seated at a table. The former is saying, in the hopes of an amicable settlement being come to, ‘Sire, when you have done with the Empire, I will thank you to let me have it.’ Napoleon replies, ‘I am sorry, Sire, it is engaged for that young Gentleman.’ The King of Rome has a torn map, which he is trying to piece, and he says, ‘I think I shall be able to unite them.’

G. Cruikshank drew (June 1, 1815) ‘Preparing for War,’ which is somewhat elaborate in detail. The centre is occupied by a funeral pyre, to which fire has already been applied, ‘Sacred to the Bourbon cause, and dedicated to the Downfall of illegitimate Tyranny.’ Atop of this is chained a bull, decked with flowers for the sacrifice, and draped with a cloth, on which is inscribed: ‘Land Tax--Ditto Personal--Tax on Windows, Dogs, Houses, Servants, Clerks, Shopmen, Carts, Hair powder, Horses, Waiters, Travellers, Income, Armorial bearings,’ &c. &c. Poor John Bull bellows, ‘Alas, and must I come to this! have I bled for so many years in your service, and will you now take my life?’ A typical representative of the House of Commons assures him that it is ‘Better to die Johnny, than live, and see thrive the thing we hate--Let us arm--war--war--interminable war I say, down with the Regicide--no quarter to the Usurper--So I said at Congress, so I now repeat, and if it is your fate to expire at the Altar, Johnny, all I ask is that I may live to preach your funeral sermon.’ A typical House of Lords is about to give him the _coup de grâce_ with a pole-axe inscribed ‘New War Taxes,’ comforting him with ‘No grumbling Johnny, you are a Noble _Sacrifice_ and worthy of the Cause.’ A number of empty bags are waiting to be filled--‘Subsidies,’ ‘The Army,’ ‘The Navy,’ ‘Contractors,’ &c.

The left-hand portion of the picture shows the Prince Regent reclining idly on the throne undergoing his toilet. His idea of the gravity of the situation may be gathered from his speech: ‘Why this looks like war! Order me a brilliant Fête, send me a Myriad of Cooks and Scullions--say to me no more of Civil Lists and deserted wives, but of lascivious Mistresses and Bacchanalian Orgies--To it, Pell mell--my soul is eager for the fierce encounter--What, are my Whiskers[52] easier than they were?’ One of his valets says, ‘Your highness shall in all things be obey’d’; whilst one, who is measuring him round the waist, tells him, ‘I think these will be the best stays your highness has had yet.’

In the background are seen soldiery, and Wellington and Blücher sharpening their swords. Poor gouty Louis is clad in armour, and is mounted on Talleyrand as a charger. He is accompanied by an army of two men, armed with bottles of _Eau Medicinal_, and his artillery is composed of rolls of flannel. He soliloquises: ‘Well--we’ve _Tally_ for the Field to-morrow! but don’t forget the _Eau Medicinal_ and the _Fleecy Hosiery_; alas! these gouty limbs are but ill adapted to Jack boots and spurs--I think I had better fight my battles over a cool bottle with my friend George.’

The extreme right of the engraving shews Napoleon giving orders to ‘Let loose the Dogs of War;’ which is obeyed by one of his marshals, who delightedly exclaims, ‘Here is a glorious pack already sniffing human blood, and fresh for slaughter----On--comrades--on! the word is Bonaparte, Beelzebub and Blood.’

It was time to prepare for war, with a vengeance. On March 25 a treaty had been concluded at Vienna between Great Britain, Russia, Austria, and Prussia, binding themselves to maintain the Treaty of Paris, to keep each 150,000 men in the field, and not to leave off until Napoleon had been rendered harmless.

British gold had to be lavishly employed: the King of Würtemberg receiving from our Government 11_l._ 2_s._ for each man, to the number of 29,000, which he bound himself to bring into the field.[53] But the campaign in Belgium was to be a short one. We all know it, and its glorious end, at Waterloo. The news of that victory flew as never news flew before, for on the 22nd inst. was published the following official bulletin:

‘Downing Street, June 22, 1815.

‘The Duke of Wellington’s Dispatch, dated Waterloo, the 19th of June, states that on the preceding day Buonaparte attacked, with his whole force, the British line, supported by a corps of Prussians; which attack, after a long and sanguinary conflict, terminated in the complete overthrow of the Enemy’s Army, with the loss of ONE HUNDRED and FIFTY PIECES of CANNON, and TWO EAGLES. During the night, the Prussians under Marshall Blücher, who joined in the pursuit of the Enemy, captured SIXTY GUNS, and a large part of Buonaparte’s BAGGAGE. The Allied Armies continued to pursue the enemy. Two French Generals were taken.’

Although jubilant exceedingly, the nation hardly yet comprehended the value of that victory; in fact, in reading the immediate contemporary comments thereon, there seems to be a dread of Napoleon’s powers of resource and recuperation, and the illuminations which followed were not so enthusiastically described as on some other occasions.

One caricaturist seems to have been gifted with prescience, for before the victory became known he had produced a caricature which was called ‘A Lecture on Heads,[54] as Delivered by Marshalls Wellington and Blucher’ (artist unknown, June 21, 1815), which shews these heroes dealing death and destruction on the French all round them, making the heads fly all over the place. Blücher shouts out, ‘Blister ’em, Fire ’em, shoot ’em, Kick ’em, Lump ’em, Thump ’em, whack ’em, smack ’em.’ Wellington sings--

Bold as Hector or Macbeth, Ri tol, lol, la. Where’s the Fun like meeting Death, Tol de ridy Tol de ray.

‘Monkey’s Allowance, more Kicks than Dumplings. A Farce Perform’d with Great Eclat at the National Theatre in the Netherlands,’ is the title of a not particularly good picture by an unnamed artist in June 1815. It represents Napoleon, with his hands tied behind him, getting ‘Monkey’s Allowance’ from the principal sovereigns of Europe.

WELLINGTON (_sings whilst kicking him_).

Master Boney with his fol der lol, le, I buffet away on the _plain_, Sir;

BLÜCHER.

And I’ll assist your Worship’s fist, With all my might and main, Sir.

AUSTRIA.

And I’ll have a Thump, Although he’s so plump,

PRUSSIA.

And we’ll make such a woundy racket,

HOLLAND.

We’ll ramp, we’ll swear

RUSSIA AND SWEDEN.

We’ll tear--oh rare,

LOUIS XVIII.

I warrant we’ll pepper his jacket.

‘R. Ackermann’s Transparency on the Victory of Waterloo’ is said to be by Rowlandson, and is without date. It, doubtless, was got up on the news of that great battle, but it is a very weak production. It simply represents Napoleon between Wellington and Blücher: the latter meets him with artillery, the former pursues him on horseback. Of course his crown has tumbled off. It is not an artistic picture by any means, but, doubtless, it evoked the enthusiasm of the masses, who were intoxicated with joy at the famous victory.

After the battle of Waterloo, Napoleon hastened to Paris, and, tired and covered with dust as he was, he immediately met his Ministers, and told them the extent of his disasters. They laid the intelligence before the Houses of Legislature, and on the morning of June 22 Napoleon received a deputation from the Chamber, who submitted to him that ‘the state of war in which France was involved concerned much less the nation than himself, and that the Assembly had the means at command, if he would act so disinterested a part as to restore to it freedom of action according as circumstances might dictate.’

This was a pretty broad hint to Napoleon to abdicate, and he took it as such, and sent the following reply:--

‘Frenchmen! When I began the war to uphold national independence, I relied on the union of all efforts, all wills, and on the co-operation of all national authorities. I was justified in anticipating success, and I braved all the declarations of the Powers against my person. Circumstances seem to be changed. I offer myself as a sacrifice to the hatred against France. May your enemies prove sincere, and may it appear that they wage war against me alone! My political life is terminated. I proclaim my son, under the title of Napoleon II., Emperor of the French. The present Ministers will form the Council of the Provisional Government. The interest which I take in my son induces me to invite the Chambers to organize a Regency without delay, by a special law. Unite for the general safety, and to secure national independence.

NAPOLEON.

At the Palace of the Elysée, the 22 June, 1815.

The ‘Times,’[55] as usual, must speak bitter things of the fallen foe, and, anent his abdication, says, ‘The wretch, with the blood of so many thousands on his head, seemed to carry about him all the coolness of that apathy which is part of his physical constitution; and so degraded and demoralised are the Parisian populace, that they could see the butcher of their race without the least emotion. He is, however, spoken of in the journals, and in the debates, without any share of that respect which but lately was attached to his name. After his former abdication, he was invariably termed the “Emperor”; but now he is called nothing but plain Napoleon.’