English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon I. Volume 2 (of 2)

In Short

This volume serves as a historical chronicle of British public opinion toward Napoleon I as expressed through the era’s most popular political cartoons. By cataloging satirical prints, poems, and squibs produced between 1804 and 1815, the work captures the intense anxiety, ridicule, and eventual triumph felt by the English people during the Napoleonic Wars. It endures as a primary source for understanding how art was weaponized to influence the national consciousness, turning a fearsome dictator into a recurring, often pathetic, villain in the eyes of the British public.

The Story

The narrative begins with Napoleon’s ascension to the title of Emperor in 1804, a move that triggered a wave of biting satire across the English Channel. Cartoonists like Cruikshank and Gillray portrayed the new Emperor as an insecure upstart, often depicting him as a diminutive, frantic figure grasping at stolen legitimacy. The arc of the book follows his military campaigns across Europe—from the early threats of invasion and the strategic blockade of England to the disastrous Russian campaign and the eventual collapse at Leipsic.

As the years progress, the tone of these satires shifts. Initially, the caricatures focus on the immediate terror of a potential French invasion. Napoleon is depicted as a "Corsican bugbear," a monstrous figure who threatens the stability of the British home front. Yet, as the conflict drags on, the satire grows more complex. The artists turn their attention to Napoleon’s diplomatic manipulations, his forced alliances, and his vanity. The cartoons frequently depict the other sovereigns of Europe—the Russian Czar, the Prussian King, and the Austrian Emperor—alternating between cowering before the "usurper" and eventually gathering the courage to join John Bull, the personification of the British public, in dismantling Napoleon’s empire.

The mid-section of the book details the domestic political strain within England itself. The cartoons do not spare British politicians; figures like Fox are shown struggling with the "bed of roses" that was governance during wartime. These illustrations provide a grim, humorous look at the high cost of the conflict, both in blood and the "breeches pocket" of the taxpayer. The focus remains locked on the Emperor’s personal life as well, particularly his divorce from Josephine and his remarriage to Maria Louisa, which cartoonists mocked as a desperate, superficial attempt to graft himself onto established royal bloodlines.

The narrative reaches its crescendo with the turning tide in the East. The burning of Moscow acts as a central pivot in the illustrations, depicted as the beginning of the end for the French forces. The final chapters track the rapid disintegration of Napoleon’s power, culminating in his abdication and his brief, bizarre reign over the island of Elba. The book concludes with the final, frantic struggle of the Hundred Days and the ultimate resolution at Waterloo. The final pages shift from the battlefield to the sea, where the British public, obsessed with the man who had haunted their dreams for a decade, clamor to catch a glimpse of the fallen Emperor aboard the Bellerophon. The story ends not with a grand political pronouncement, but with the mundane reality of a deposed conqueror waiting for his permanent exile.

How It Unfolds

The Imperial Pretender The early chapters establish the tone of the mockery, depicting Napoleon as a small, ridiculous figure attempting to steal legitimacy through a "stolen" crown. Cartoonists emphasize his physical insecurity and his desperate desire to be recognized as an equal by the established monarchs of Europe.

The War of Words and Images The middle beats follow the escalation of the conflict through the lens of propaganda, where every major geopolitical move—from the blockade of England to the Peninsular War—is distilled into a single, punchy image. These visuals serve to rally the British public, transforming complex military failures into moments of collective derision against the French leadership.

The Turning of the Tide As Napoleon’s fortunes wane, the cartoons become increasingly aggressive, depicting the European powers as a united front finally surrounding their prey. The imagery shifts from fear of invasion to the systematic dismantling of the French Emperor, showing him being "tossed in a blanket" or reduced to the status of a common criminal.

The Final Act The concluding sections document the rapid collapse of the Empire, the abdication at Fontainebleau, and the final, quiet reality of captivity. The book ends by detailing the intense, almost morbid curiosity of the British people, who lined the coast in boats just to witness the man who had once been their greatest terror.

The People

Napoleon Bonaparte acts as the central, antagonistic pivot of the work, moving from a position of near-divine, tyrannical power to a figure of pathetic isolation. His primary foil is John Bull, the sturdy, common-sense personification of the British nation. John Bull represents the stubbornness and resilience of the English, consistently rejecting Napoleon’s overtures and threats with a mix of defiance and salty humor.

Other significant figures include the European sovereigns—the Russian Czar, the Prussian King, and the Austrian Emperor—who are portrayed variously as victims of Napoleon’s bullying or opportunistic collaborators who eventually turn against him. Figures like the Pope, Talleyrand, and Josephine are also rendered in caricature, acting as props to emphasize the Emperor's perceived hypocrisy, vanity, and moral corruption. These figures do not evolve in the traditional sense; rather, the way the caricaturists view them changes in response to their changing relationship with Napoleon. They serve as a mirror for the British public’s shifting perception of the war: from a fight for survival against a singular monster to a complex, messy struggle for the balance of power across the continent.

In Its Own Voice

Napoleon, very small, is depicted as capering about in imperial robes, with an enormous crown made of coins, daggers, and a cup of poison; his sceptre has for its top a guillotine.

The author describes the initial reaction to Napoleon’s self-proclamation as Emperor, highlighting how visual satire stripped away his authority.

‘I contemplate this Wonder of the World, and regret that all my Conquered Domains cannot match this Man. Pray, Sir, are you not a descendant from the great Joss of China?’

The author cites a caricature showing Napoleon confronting the British phenomenon Daniel Lambert, using the encounter to contrast the bloated French Emperor with the "moderate condition" of a true Englishman.

What It's Really About

At its core, the book examines the relationship between public anxiety and the power of visual media. It argues that caricature was not merely a source of amusement, but a critical tool for maintaining national morale during an existential threat. The text explores the tension between the reality of war—the bankruptcy, the casualties, the fear—and the simplified, often absurd narrative created by cartoonists to make that reality palatable. It asks, implicitly, how a nation defines its enemy, and how it uses humor to shrink a colossal adversary down to a manageable size. By focusing on the propaganda of the era, the book highlights the fragility of political icons and the way that satire can expose the "rotten foundation" of any absolute power.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in political history, visual culture, or the evolution of propaganda will find this work an essential, if challenging, look into the psyche of 19th-century Britain. The book is not a polished narrative; it is a dense, academic collection of descriptions and historical context. The reader should be prepared for the period’s specific brand of humor—often crude, xenophobic, and deeply rooted in the political rivalries of the 1800s. The language of the period and the occasionally disjointed nature of the chapters can make for a slow, deliberate reading experience.

However, the reward is an unvarnished look at how a society processes fear. You feel the constant, underlying pulse of the British public’s obsession with "Boney," and the way that obsession shaped their daily lives. The descriptions of the caricatures are vivid enough that they conjure the sharp, biting style of artists like Gillray and Cruikshank. What lingers after reading is the realization that propaganda, for all its modern technological veneers, relies on the same psychological triggers today as it did two centuries ago: the reduction of complex human beings into grotesque, easily hated caricatures. It is a sobering, fascinating study of how, in the face of the unknown and the threatening, a society turns to the pen and the printing press to reclaim a sense of control.