There was very little caricature of Napoleon in the year 1800, for the best of reasons, that we had very little to do with him, as he was occupied till May in settling his Government, and then he left for his Italian campaign. But in this year (May 12) Gillray issued a series of eight plates, ‘Democracy, or a Sketch of the life of Buonaparte,’ of which I have already given three--‘Democratic Innocence,’ ‘Democratic Humility,’ and ‘Democratic Religion.’ As four are not very interesting, I have not given them, only the last of the series, which, evidently, was meant to be extended. [Illustration: DEMOCRATIC CONSOLATIONS. Buonaparte on his Couch surrounded by the Ghosts of the Murder’d--the dangers which threaten his Usurpation, and all the Horrors of Final Retribution. ] Combe, even, had very little to say of this time, lightly touching the passage of the Alps, the occupation of Milan and Pavia, the defeat of the Austrians at Montebello, and the battle of Marengo, where he makes an assertion I cannot find elsewhere, nor trace to any French source, except De Bourrienne. Soon after this the gallant fellow The Austrians drove from Montebello, And then did he, with all his men go, To aid the battle of Marengo; Here was indeed a bold resistance, Brave Boney saw it at a distance: And at this time, it is not doubted, Nap’s army was completely routed; Indeed, it grieves the muse to say, Our hero cried, and ran away; But brave Desaix, who was not idle, His horse soon grappled by the bridle, And turning round the Consul’s phiz, He said, while anger ruffled his, ‘Citizen Consul, look before ye-- That is the road to fame and glory. Nap bit his lip, and swore by heaven, Th’ offence was not to be forgiven; Indeed, as many understand, That hour the Gen’ral’s fall he plann’d. By Victor and Desaix defeated, The Austrians in their turn retreated. This Victor, who destruction hurl’d Made always a great noise in the world, For he had been a drummer, so The way to _beat_ he’d cause to know. But, while victorious, now we find Desaix received a shot behind, His Aid-du-camp was bribed to do it, And well, too, the First Consul knew it; Besides the shot, a base attack! He got a stab, too, in the back; He fell, and instantly expir’d-- His death by Boney was desired: Yet when they told him he was dead, ‘Why can’t I weep?’ he faintly said. [Illustration]