‘It was the spectacle of a sea and billows of fire, a sky and clouds of flame; mountains of red rolling flames, like immense waves of the sea, alternately bursting forth, and elevating themselves to skies of fire, and then sinking into the ocean of flame below. Oh! it was the most grand, the most sublime, and the most terrific sight the world ever beheld.’ Napoleon, however, returned to the Kremlin on September 20, and, the main portion of the building being uninjured, a theatre was improvised therein. Early in October, he stated his determination to march on St. Petersburg, but never acted on it. Instead, he entered into negotiations for peace. Snow began to fall on October 13, a portent of an early winter, and winter quarters must be found. Events, however, did not march as he would have had them. On the 18th the Russians, under Beningsen, attacked and defeated Murat, and on the 19th Napoleon left Moscow, and the famous flight from thence began. Of the horrors of that flight, it is hardly the province of this work to dilate upon--mine is more to chronicle the feeling in England with regard to the events then passing. It may be said that it was bad taste to caricature such an appalling disaster--but when did a question of taste deter a satirist or caricaturist? Take, as an instance, an event which many of us well remember, the death of the Emperor Nicholas of Russia in 1855. That solemn event might well have been passed by, but it was food to the caricaturist, and he made money out of it. See ‘Punch’ of March 10, 1855, and note the ghastly cartoon of ‘General Février turned Traitor. “_Russia has Two Generals in whom she can confide--Generals Janvier and Février._” Speech of the late Emperor of Russia.’ ‘Jack Frost attacking Boney in Russia’ was published in November 1812. A fearful-looking monster, mounted on a northern bear, pursues Bonaparte (who flees), pelting him all the way with huge snowballs. Napoleon is on skates, and holds his poor frost-bitten nose, crying out, ‘By gar, Monsieur Frost this is a much colder Reception than I expected. I never experienced such a pelting before--I find I must take care of my nose, as well as my toes. Pray forgive me this time, and I swear by S^t Dennis never to enter your dominion again.’ Jack Frost makes answer, ‘What, Master Boney! have I caught you at last. I’ll teach you Russian fare. Take that, and that, as a relish, and digest it.’ ‘General Frost shaveing Little Boney’ (December 1, 1812) is very grim in its humour. Bonaparte begs, but in vain, for pity: ‘Pray Brother General, have Mercy. Don’t overwhelm me with your hoary element. You have so nipped me, that my very teeth chatter. O dear--I am quite chop fallen.’ But the unrelenting and unpitying Frost replies, ‘Invade my Country, indeed! I’ll shave, freeze, and bury you in snow, you little Monkey.’