The debuteys [sic] apointed [sic] by the legislative body doing homage to the King of Rome in the nursery at St. Cloud [graphic].

"The infant King of Rome sits on the lap of his Governess to receive the compliments of a long procession of deputies. She offers the child's bare posterior, from which issues an explosion, to the lips of the foremost deputy who kneels obsequiously on a cushion. The child has his father's face, as in British Museum Satires No. 11719, &c., and wears a cocked hat and military tunic; he flourishes a rattle, ignoring the homage. The deputies all wear long robes over court dress with sword and are burlesqued; the second holds his nose, many take snuff. The long procession recedes in perspective (right). The Governess is also grotesque and elderly, wearing old-fashioned dress and an elaborate frilled cap. She sits on the little King's throne which is on a dais. It is topped by the iron crown of Italy with a sceptre and baton; on the back is an imperial eagle above a wreath enclosing the letters 'R R' [Rex Romae]. The leading deputy: "Madam Governess. not one of us can behold without a most lively interest, that August Infant--on whom rest so many Destinies, and whose Age and Charming--Qualiteys, inspires the Most tender Sentiments in the French and Surrounding Nations." She answers with a staring grin: "Monsieurs, --I thank you for the polite and flattering encomiums, You are pleased to bestow on me--I thank you in the Name of the Young Prince, Whoes Charms are Inexpressible. and regret that he can not add his personal sentiments to those which I entertain, to the--Legislative Body." Napoleon (left) watches the homage from behind a curtain which divides the child's throne from women who are washing the infant's napkins; he holds up a forefinger and stares intently. A disreputable old woman washing a tub-full of 'Shi--en Clouts' also watches; her tub rests on a low stool under which a dog urinates, and on which are bottle, glass, and snuff-box. Another, behind Napoleon, hangs 'Royal Clouts' on a line in front of a steaming copper. She says, "The Stench from the Young Urchin is intolerable--he smells like a pole Cat." A basket of 'Foul Linen' is on the ground."--British Museum online catalogue