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This book contain a copy of the index to both this volume and to "Rowlandson the Caricaturist, Volume 1", which can also be found in the Project Gutenberg collection. (In the index, pages numbered i. ###-### refer to Project Gutenberg e-book #####, and in the html version, are linked to it. Although we verify the correctness of these links at the time of posting, these links will not work in all formats or while reading offline.)

ROWLANDSON THE CARICATURIST

SECOND VOLUME

LONDON: PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO, NEW-STREET SQUARE
AND PARLIAMENT STREET

ROWLANDSON THE CARICATURIST

A SELECTION FROM HIS WORKS

WITH ANECDOTAL DESCRIPTIONS OF HIS FAMOUS CARICATURES

AND

A Sketch of his Life, Times, and Contemporaries

BY
JOSEPH GREGO
AUTHOR OF 'JAMES GILLRAY, THE CARICATURIST; HIS LIFE, WORKS, AND TIMES'

WITH ABOUT FOUR HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS

IN TWO VOLUMES—VOL. II.

London

CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY
1880

[The right of translation is reserved]

CONTENTS
OF
THE SECOND VOLUME.

(1800–1825.)

1800.

 

PAGE

'Le Brun Travestied, or Caricatures of the Passions'—

Dr. Botherum the Mountebank

—Humbugging—Hocus-pocus, or Searching for the Philosopher's Stone—Hogarthian Novelist—Britannia's Protection, or Loyalty Triumphant—A Silly—A Sulky—Beef à la Mode—Collar'd Pork—The Pleasures of Margate—

Summer Amusements, or a Game at Bowls

—Cockney Outings—Beauties of Sterne: 'The Sentimental Journey'—Series of 'Attributes'—'Country Characters'—'Matrimonial Comforts'—

Preparations for the Academy; Old Nollekens and his Venus

—'Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales in the year 1797'

1

1801.

A Money Scrivener—

A Counsellor

—The Union—

A Jew Broker

—

The Brilliants

— Undertakers Regaling—

Symptoms of Sanctity

—Single Combat in Moorfields, or Magnanimous Paul O! Challenging All O!—The Emperor Paul of Russia, a Mad Autocrat—Series of 'Prayers' and 'Journals'—The Union Head-dress—An Old Member on his Way to the House of Commons—Minor works—Subjects after the designs of G. M. Woodward

22

1802.

Series of 'Journals'—Special Pleaders—La Fille mal Gardé, or Jack in the Box—

A Lady in Limbo, or Jew Bail Rejected

—

Slyboots

—A Snip in a Rage—

The Corporal in Good Quarters

—Sorrow's Dry, or a Cure for the Heart-ache—Hunt the Slipper; Picnic Revels—Who's Mistress Now?—'Compendious Treatise on Modern Education'—'Bardic Museum'

35

1803.

A Catamaran—Billiards—A Diver—John Bull Listening to the Quarrels of State Affairs—Flags of Truth and Lies—Minor subjects

42

1804.

A French Ordinary

—Volunteering—The Imperial Coronation—Theatrical Leapfrog—Melpomene in the Dumps—Death of Madame République—A New French Phantasmagoria—The Eight Stages of Man's Schooling—Letter from the Caricaturist to Heath, the engraver

44

1805.

Quarterly Duns, or Clamorous Tax-gatherers—The famous Coalheaver, Black Charley—The Modern Hercules Cleansing the Augean Stable—A Scotch Sarcophagus—John Bull's Turnpike Gate—The Scotch Ostrich Seeking Cover—Recovery of a Dormant Title—Antiquarians à la Grecque—John Bull at the Italian Opera—Napoleon Buonaparte in a Fever on Receiving the Extraordinary Gazette of Nelson's Victory over the Combined Fleets—

A Boarding School

—Illustrations to Fielding's 'Tom Jones'—Illustrations to Smollett's 'Peregrine Pickle'—Views in Cornwall, Devon, Dorset, &c.

49

1806.

'The Sorrows of Werter'—A Cake in Danger—Falstaff and his Followers Vindicating the Property Tax—A Maiden Aunt Smelling Fire—Recruiting on a Broad-Bottom'd Principle—Daniel Lambert, the Wonderful Great Pumpkin of Little Britain—A Diving Machine on a New Construction—The Acquittal—Experiments at Dover, or Master Charley's Magic Lantern—

Butterfly-Hunting

—Anything will do for an Officer—Interior of St. Brewer's Church—

A Prize Fight 57

1807.

Miseries of London: A Street Blockade

—The Captain's Account-current of Charge and Discharge—At Home and Abroad—Abroad and at Home—Mrs. Showell and Gen. Guise's Collection of Pictures at Oxford—

The Enraged Vicar

—

All the Talents

—A Henpeck'd Husband—John Rosedale, Mariner, Exhibitor at the Hall of Greenwich Hospital—The Pilgrims and the Peas—Song Headings—

Monastic Fare

—

The Holy Friar

—'I Smell a Rat,' or a Rogue in Grain—The Old Man of the Sea and Sindbad the Sailor—A White Sergeant giving the Word of Command—Miseries Personal—More Scotchmen, or Johnny Maccree Opening his New Budget—

A View on the Banks of the Thames

—The Double Disaster, or the New Cure for Love—Miseries of the Country—A Mistake at Newmarket, or Sport and Piety—

Englishman at Paris

—Symptoms of Restiveness—

A Calf's Pluck

—

Rusty Bacon

—A Tour to the Lakes—Thomas Simmons, the Murderer—Directions to Footmen—John Bull Making Observations on the Coast—The Dog and the Devil—More Miseries—Illustrations to 'The Pleasures of Human Life'

64

1808.

Scenes at Brighton—

Miseries of High Life

—The Green Dragon—Soldiers on a March—The Consultation, or Last Hope—Volunteer Wit—The Anatomy of Melancholy—

The Mother's Hope

—The Sweet Little Girl that I Love—Odd Fellows from Downing Street Complaining to John Bull—

A Snug Cabin, or Port Admiral

—Accommodation—The Welsh Sailor's Mistake—Wonderfully Mended—Breaking Cover—Get Money—

Doctor Gallipot Placing his Fortune at the Feet of his Mistress

—Rum Characters in a Shrubbery—

Rowlandson's Caricatures against Buonaparte

: The Corsican Tiger; Billingsgate at Bayonne; The Corsican Spider in his Web; The Corsican Nurse Soothing the Infants of Spain; The Beast as Described in Revelations; From the Desk to the Throne; King Joe's Retreat from Madrid; King Joe on his Spanish Donkey; A Spanish Passport to France; The Political Butcher; The Fox and the Grapes; Prophecy Explained; Napoleon the Little in a Rage with his Great French Eagle; A Hard Passage, or Boney Playing Base on the Continent; King Joe and Co. making the most of their time previous

to quitting Madrid; Nap and his Partner Joe; Nap and his Friends in their Glory; John Bull arming the Spaniards; Junot disgorging his Booty; The Progress of the Emperor Napoleon—Illustrations to 'An Academy for Grown Horsemen' and 'Annals of Horsemanship,' communicated by Geoffrey Gambado, Esq.—'The Caricature Magazine, or Hudibrastic Mirror'—'Chesterfield Travestie, or School for Modern Manners'—

Behaviour at Table

—'A Lecture on Heads,' by G. A. Stevens—Plates to 'The Miseries of Human Life'—'The Microcosm of London, or London in Miniature'—'An Essay on the Art of Ingeniously Tormenting'

84

1809.

The Head of the Family in Good Humour—The Old Woman's Complaint, or the Greek Alphabet—Launching a Frigate—

A Mad Dog in a Coffee House

—Disappointed Epicures—

A Mad Dog in a Dining Room

—The Comforts of Matrimony—The Miseries of Wedlock—

'Oh! you're a Devil. Get along, do!' Rowlandson's Caricatures upon the Delicate Investigation, or the Clarke Scandal

: Particulars of the Case; The Parliamentary Examination; The Principal Personages Concerned; Mrs. Clarke's

Memoirs

; 'The Rival Princes'; 'Tegg's Complete Collection of Caricatures relative to Mrs. Clarke, and the Circumstances arising from the Investigation of the Conduct of His Royal Highness the Duke of York before the House of Commons, 1809'; Dissolution of Parliament, or the Industrious Mrs. Clarke Winding up her Accounts; Mrs. Clarke's Levee; Days of Prosperity in Gloucester Place; All for Love: a Scene at Weymouth; An Unexpected Meeting; The Bishop and his Clarke; A Pilgrimage from Surrey to Gloucester Place; The York Magician; A Parliamentary Toast; Chelsea Parade; The Road to Preferment;

The York March;

The Triumvirate of Gloucester Place; A Scene from the Tragedy of 'Cato'; Yorkshire Hieroglyphics, pl. 182; The Burning Shame; The Statue to be Disposed of; A General Discharge; The Champion of Oakhampton; The Parson and the Clarke; Samson Asleep on the Lap of Delilah; The Resignation; The Prodigal Son; Mrs. Clarke's Last Effort; The York Dilly; Doctor O'Meara's Return to his Family; Mrs. Clarke's Farewell to her Audience; Original Plan for a Popular Monument to be Erected in Gloucester Place; A York Address to the Whale; The Flower of the City; The Modern Babel; The Sick Lion and the Asses; Burning the Books; A Piece-Offering; The Quaker and the Clarke; John Bull and the Genius of Corruption—Boney's Broken Bridge—Hell Broke Loose—The Tables are Turned—More of the Clarke—The Plot Thickens—Amusement for the Recess—The Bill of Wright's—Wonders, Wonders, Wonders!—The Rising Sun, or a View of the Continent—The Pope's Excommunication of Buonaparte—The Walcheren Expedition—Song by Commodore Curtis—A Design for a Monument to be Erected in Commemoration of the Glorious and Never-to-be-forgotten Grand Expedition, so ably planned and executed in the year 1809—General Cheathem's Marvellous Return from his Exhibition of Fireworks—Plan for a General Reform—This is the House that Jack Built—A Lump of Impertinence—A Lump of Innocence—Preparations for the Jubilee, or Theatricals Extraordinary—A Bill of Fare for Bond Street Epicures—The Boxes—A Peep at the Gas Lights in Pall Mall—Joint Stock Street—The 'Bull and Mouth'—A Glee—Rowlandson's 'Sketches from Nature'—Sterne's 'Sentimental Journey'—Butler's 'Hudibras'—'Surprising Adventures of the Renowned Baron Munchausen'—'The Beauties of Sterne'—'Poetical Magazine'—'The Schoolmaster's Tour' (Dr. Syntax)—

The Mansion House Monitor

—'Annals of Sporting,' by Calib Quizzem—'Trial of the Duke of York'—'Advice to Sportsmen' from the notes of Marmaduke Markwell—'The Pleasures of Human Life,' by Hilari Benevolus & Co.—Illustrations to Smollett's Miscellaneous Works—'Beauties of Tom Brown'—Views in Cornwall, &c.—'Scandal; Investigation of the Charges brought against H.R.H. the Duke of York, by G. L. Wardle, Esq., M.P. for Devon, with the evidence and remarks of the Members'

130

1810.

Winding up the Medical Report of the Walcheren Expedition—Libel-Hunters on the Look-out, or Daily Examiners of the Liberty of the Press—

A New Tap Wanted

—The Boroughmongers Strangled in the Tower—Views of the Colleges of Oxford and Cambridge—A Bait for Kiddies on the North Road—

Kissing for Love

—Easterly Winds—Three Weeks after Marriage, or the Great Little Emperor Playing at Bo-peep—A Bonnet Shop—Peter Plumb's Diary—A Table d'Hôte, or French Ordinary in Paris—Paris Diligence—Boxing Match between Dutch Sam and Medley—Smuggling

Out, or Starting for Gretna Green—Smuggling In, or a College Trick—Procession of the Cod Company from St. Giles's to Billingsgate—Rigging out a Smuggler—Dramatic Demireps at their Morning Rehearsal—Sports of a Country Fair—

Spitfires

—An Old Ewe Dressed Lamb Fashion—Dropsy Courting Consumption—Kitchen Stuff—

A Hit at Backgammon

—Medical Despatch—Bath Races—

Doctor Drainbarrel

—After Sweet Meat comes Sour Sauce—The Harmonic Society—Sign of the Four Alls—Signs—The Rabbit Merchant—A Sale of English Beauties in the East Indies—A Parody on Milton—Cries of London

182

1811.

College Pranks—A Sleepy Congregation—The Gig Shop—

Pigeon-Hole

—A French Dentist—Bacon-faced Fellows of Brazenose Broke Loose—She Stoops to Conquer—The Anatomist—Sailors on Horseback—Pastime in Portugal—The Last Drop—Boney the Second, or the Little Baboon Created to Devour French Monkeys—A Picture of Misery—Puss in Boots, or General Junot taken by Surprise—Nursing the Spawn of a Tyrant—The Enraged Son of Mars and the Timid Tonsor—Rural Sports: A Cat in a Bowl—

A Dog Fight

—Touch for Touch—The Bassoon, with a French Horn Accompaniment—Easter Monday—

Rural Sports

—

The Huntsman Rising

—

The Gamester Going to Bed

—Love Laughs at Locksmiths—

Masquerading

—Accommodation Ladder—Looking at the Comet—Life and Death of the Racehorse—A Milling Match between Cribb and Molineaux—

Smock-Racing

—A Game at Quoits—How to Show off a well-shaped Leg—Twelfth Night Characters—Cricket Match Extraordinary—Minor Subjects—Six Classes of the Horse—Distillers—Dinners Dressed in the Neatest Manner—A Trip to Gretna Green—Balloon-Hunting—A Belvoir Leap—A Man of Feeling—Bel and the Dragon—A Milk-sop—Royal Academy, Somerset House—Travelling in France—

Exhibition Starecase

, Somerset House—

The Manager's Last Kick

—

Preparing to Start

—Awkward Squads Studying the Graces—Hiring a Servant—Anglers of 1811—

Preparing for the Race

—Patience in a Punt—A Templar at His Studies—A Barber's Shop—Modern Antiques—'Munchausen at Walcheren'—'Chesterfield Burlesqued'

199

1812.

Duke of Cumberland—Lord Petersham—Lord Pomfret—Wet under Foot—Plucking a Spooney—Catching an Elephant—Description of a Boxing Match between Ward and Quirk—A Spanish Cloak—Fast Day—Sea Stores—Land Stores—The Chamber of Genius—

Italian Picture-Dealers Humbugging my Lord Anglaise

—The Dog Days—

A Brace of Blackguards

—

Racing

—Broad Grins—Watermen—A Seaman's Wife's Reckoning—Setting out for Margate—Refinement of Language—Bitter Fare—

Raising the Wind

—Christmas Gambols—The Successful Fortune-Hunter—Hackney Assembly—The Learned Scotchman—Preaching to some Purpose—A Visit to the Doctor—Puff Paste—Mock Turtle—Off She Goes—A Cat in Pattens—'Petticoat Loose; a Fragmentary Tale of the Castle'—Series of 'Views in Cornwall'—'

Tour of Doctor Syntax, in Search of the Picturesque

'—'

Second Tour of Doctor Syntax, in Search of Consolation

'—'

Third Tour of Doctor Syntax, in Search of a Wife

'

225

1813.

Bachelor's Fare, or Bread and Cheese and Kisses

—The Last Gasp, or Toadstools Mistaken for Mushrooms—Summer Amusements at Margate—Humours of Houndsditch—

Unloading a Waggon

—None but the Brave Deserve the Fair—A Doleful Disaster, or Miss Tubby Tatarmin's Wig Caught Fire—The Norwich Bull Feast—

A Long Pull, a Strong Pull, and a Pull all together

—The Corsican Toad under a Harrow—The Execution of two celebrated Enemies of Old England, and their Dying Speeches, November 5, 1813—A Dutch Nightmare—Plump to the Devil we boldly Kicked both Nap and his Partner Joe—The Corsican Munchausen—Funking the Corsican—The Mock Phœnix—Friends and Foes, up he Goes!—Political Chemists and German Retorts—Napoléon le Grand—Mock Auction, or Boney Selling Stolen Goods—How to Vault into the

Saddle—Witches in a Hayloft—The Quakers and the Commissioners of Excise—

Doctor Syntax in the Middle of a Political Squabble

—A-going! A-going!—Giving up the Ghost—Ghost of my Departed Husband—'Letters from Italy,' by Lewis Engelbach—'Poetical Sketches of Scarborough,' illustrated by Rowlandson from designs by J. Green—'Dr. Syntax's Tour,' republished

253

1814.

The Double Humbug—Death and Buonaparte—Transparency exhibited at Ackermann's on the victory of Leipzig—

Madame Véry

, Restaurateur, Palais Royal, Paris—

La Belle Limonadière

au Café des Milles Colonnes—Quarter Day, or Clearing the Premises—Kicking up a Breeze, or Barrow-women Basting a Beadle—

The Progress of Gallantry

—

A Tailor's Wedding

—Head Runner of Runaways from Leipzig Fair—

Crimping a Quaker

—The Devil's Darling—Blucher the Brave Extorting the Groan of Abdication from the Corsican Bloodhound—Coming in at the Death of the Corsican Fox—Bloody Boney, the Carcase Butcher, left off Trade and Retiring to Scarecrow Island—The Rogue's March—The Affectionate Farewell, or Kick for Kick—A Delicate Finish to a French Usurper—Nap Dreading his Doleful Doom, or his Grand Entry into the Isle of Elba—The Tyrant of the Continent is Fallen; Europe is Free; England Rejoices—Boney Turned Moralist—What I was! what I am! what I ought to be!—

Peace and Plenty

—Macassar Oil—A Pleasant Way of Making Hay—

Portsmouth Point

—The Four Seasons of Love—Joanna Southcott, the Prophetess—Buck-Hunting

271

1815.

Female Politicians—Breaking up the Blue Stocking Club—Defrauding the Customs—Hodge's Explanation of a Hundred Magistrates—Tailors Drinking the Tunbridge Waters—Flight of Buonaparte from Hell Bay—Hell Hounds Rallying round the Idol of France—Vive le Roi! Vive l'Empereur! Vive le Diable!—Scene in a New Pantomime to be Performed at the Theatre Royal, Paris—The Corsican and his Blood Hounds at the Window of the Tuileries—Ackermann's Transparency on the Victory of Waterloo—Boney's Trial, Sentence, and Dying Speech, or Europe's Injuries Avenged—Ackermann's Transparency on the General Peace, Nov. 27, 1815—The Cockney Hunt—Measuring Substitutes for the Army of Reserve—A Journeyman Tailor—

An Eating House

—Neighbours—Banditti—Virtue in Danger—Slap Bang Shop—Accidents will Happen—Sympathy—Despatch, or Jack Preparing for Sea—Deadly-Lively—Illustrations to 'The Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome'—Illustrations to 'The Grand Master, or Adventures of Qui Hi in Hindostan'—

Hindoo Incantations

—Illustrations to 'Naples and the Campagna Felice,' in a series of letters by Lewis Engelbach—

The Letter-Writer

—Don Lugi's Ball

289

1816.

Exhibition at Bullock's Museum of Buonaparte's Carriage taken at Waterloo—The Attempt to Wash the Blackamoor White—

Lady Hamilton

—'Relics of a Saint,' by Ferdinand Farquhar—Rowlandson's 'World in Miniature'—Illustrations to '

The English Dance of Death

'

309

1817.

Illustrations to Goldsmith's

'Vicar of Wakefield'

—Illustrations to 'The Dance of Life'—'Grotesque Drawing Book,' &c.

356

1818.

Wild Irish, or Paddy from Cork, with his Coat Buttoned Behind—Doncaster Fair, or the Industrious Yorkshire Bites—Illustrations to 'The Adventures of Johnny Newcome in the Navy'

363

1819.

A Rough Sketch of the Times, as delineated by Sir Francis Burdett—'Who Killed Cock Robin?' (chap-book on the Manchester Massacre)—Female Intrepidity (chap-book)

365

1820.

Chemical Lectures (Sir Humphrey Davy)—Rowlandson's 'Characteristic Sketches of the Lower Classes'—'The Second Tour of Doctor Syntax'

366

1821.

A Smoky House and a Scolding Wife—Tricks of the Turf, or Settling how to Lose a Race—Illustrations to 'Journal of Sentimental Travels in the Southern Provinces of France'—'Le Don Quichotte Romantique, ou voyage du Docteur Syntaxe'

368

1822.

Illustrations to 'The History of Johnny Quæ Genus'—Rowlandson's 'Sketches from Nature'—'Third Tour of Doctor Syntax, in Search of a Wife'—'Die Reise des Doktor Syntax'—Crimes of the Clergy

371

1823.

Not at Home, or the Disappointed Dinner-hunter—An Old Poacher Caught in a Snare—The Chance-seller of the Exchequer putting an Extinguisher on Lotteries—Westmacott's 'Spirit of the Public Journals for 1823'—

The Toothache, or Torment and Torture 374

1825.

'Bernard Blackmantle' (C. M. Westmacott), 'Spirit of the Public Journals for the year 1824'—'The English Spy,' by Bernard Blackmantle

377

1831.

Posthumous Publication—'The Humourist, a Companion for the Christmas Fireside,' by W. H. Harrison, 'with fifty engravings and numerous vignettes from designs by the late Thomas Rowlandson'

380

SUMMARIES.

Chronological summary of subjects, social and political, published caricatures, plates, and book illustrations, engraved by or after Thomas Rowlandson, 1774 to 1831

387

Addendum to the chronological summary of Rowlandson's published caricatures

406

APPENDIX.

Additional Sources of Reference upon Rowlandson's Caricatures:  

Catalogue of pictorial satires in the Print Department of the British Museum, from the notes of Edward Hawkins, prepared by Frederic George Stephens

411

'Centuria Librorum Absconditorum (Pisanus Fraxi)'

412

Original drawings by Thomas Rowlandson in the Department of Prints and Drawings, British Museum

412

In the Royal Collection, Windsor Castle

413

In the collection of water-colour drawings of the English school, Science and Art Department, South Kensington Museum

413

Dyce collection of water-colour drawings of the English school, Science and Art Department, South Kensington Museum

413

Private collections of original drawings by Thomas Rowlandson

415

INDICES.

Index of names, persons, &c.

435

Index of titles, subjects, published caricatures, illustrations, &c.

440

ROWLANDSON THE CARICATURIST.

1800.

January 1, 1800. A French Ordinary. Published by S. W. Fores. (See January 2, 1804.)

January 20–3, 1800. Washing Trotters. Published by Hixon, 355 Exeter Change, Strand.—As the title indicates, an etching of a curious couple engaged in the domestic operation of tubbing.

January 20, 1800. Desire, No. 1. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.—'Various are the ways this passion might be depicted: in this delineation the subjects chosen are simple—a hungry boy and a plum-pudding.'

January 20, 1800. Attention, No. 2. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

January 20, 1800. Hatred or Jealousy, No. 3. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

January 20, 1800. Admiration with Astonishment, No. 4. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

January 20, 1800. Veneration, No. 5. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

January 21, 1800. Rapture, No. 6. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson.—'What's life without passion, sweet passion of love?' 'Melody produces rapture, as exemplified in the Jew clothesman's rapturous attention to the vocal strains of the ballad-singer and her family.' A street ballad-singer, with a basket of ballads in slips, and surrounded by her family of children, has thrown a wandering Hebrew into a fit of pious ecstasy by the strains of her squalling voice, helped out by the shrill accompaniments supplied by those of her children.

1800. Desire, No. 7. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson.—'Female attraction is frequently the cause of this passion, as represented in the delineation of the Old Beau and the Sleeping Lady.' A fair young female, fashionably attired, has dropped asleep in an inviting attitude, leaning on a cushion, an old buck, spyglass in hand, is ogling the unconscious beauty.

January 21, 1800. Joy with Tranquillity, No. 8. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann.

January 21, 1800. Laughter, No. 9. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann.

January 21, 1800. Acute Pain, No. 10. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp.—'The curious observer of the passions has only to get a careless servant to pour some hot water on his foot, in a case of the gout, and he will soon know the nature of Acute Pain.'

January 21, 1800. Acute Pain (2nd plate), No. 19. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann.

January 21, 1800. Simple Bodily Pain, No. 11. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann.

January 21, 1800. Sadness, No. 12. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann.—'This passion is represented by an old maid, who is rendered completely miserable by the death of her favourite lapdog.' A 'serious footman' is gravely contemplating the body of a deceased puppy, extended on a velvet cushion, while an antiquated spinster, his mistress, who is smartened up with bows and ribbons, is in the depths of despair.

January 21, 1800. Weeping, No. 13. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann.

January 21, 1800. Compassion, No. 14. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann.

January 21, 1800. Scorn, No. 15. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann.—'This passion is frequently brought forward when a rich old dowager meets a poor relation.' A stout citizeness is pouting her nether lip, and closing her eyes to the pathetic appeals of a miserable-looking female, whose poverty and leanness offer a striking contrast to the portly city dame, with comfortable muff, resplendent in jewellery and brave apparel.

January 21, 1800. Horror, No. 16. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann.

January 21, 1800. Terror, No. 17. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann.

January 21, 1800. Anger, No. 18. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann.

January 21, 1800. Despair, No. 20. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson fec. Published by R. Ackermann—'A disappointed old maid and a bachelor are selected as proper subjects to represent the passion of despair.' The old maid, who is far from an attractive example of her tribe, is looking venom and acerbity personified. The old bachelor is also of a flinty aspect, his hands are clasped, thumbs pressed together, and head and eyes uplifted in pious abstraction and contemplation.

February 14, 1800. Beef à la Mode. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. Etched by Rowlandson (companion to Collar'd Pork).—A veritable bovine specimen, a fine Alderney, dressed out in the reigning mode. The fore part in female guise, on the head a gigantic hat of the cart-wheel order, straw trimmed and garnished, huge ear-rings, the extensive muslin 'choker,' a miniature of a bull round the cow's neck, ladies' buckled shoes, and ribboned sandles on the fore legs, and maccaroni's hessians and tassels on the hind ones; a lady's shawl thrown over the shoulders, according to the fashionable costume worn at the end of the eighteenth century.

March 6, 1800. Dr. Botherum, the Mountebank.—From the bustle and life visible on all sides it would seem that the period is fair-time, when the rustics and agricultural population of the vicinity in general flock into the town, holiday-making. A travelling mountebank has established his theatre in the market place; the person of the ingenious charlatan is decked out in a fine court dress, with bag wig, powder, sword, and laced hat complete, the better to excite the respect of his audience; he is holding forth on the marvellous properties ascribed to the nostrums which he is seeking to palm off on the simple villagers as wonder-working elixirs; while his attendants, Merry Andrew and Jack Pudding, are going through their share of the performance. One branch of the mountebank physician's profession was the drawing of teeth; an unfortunate sufferer is submitting himself to the hands of the empiric's assistant. The rural audience is stolidly contemplating the antics of the party, without being particularly moved by Dr. Botherum's imposing eloquence, these vagabond scamps being frequently clever rogues, blessed with an inexhaustible fund of bewildering oratory, and witty repartee at glib command. Leaving the quack, we find plentiful and suggestive materials to employ the humourist's skilful graver scattered around. In the centre, a scene of jealousy is displayed; the beguilements of a portly butcher are prevailing against the assumed privileges of a slip-shod tailor, who is seemingly tempted to have recourse to his sheers, to cut the amorous entanglement summarily asunder. On the left, the promiscuous and greedy feeding associated with 'fairings,' is going busily forward, and on the opposite side are exhibited all the drolleries which can be got out of a Jew pedlar, his pack, the diversified actions of customers he is trying to tempt with his wares, and the bargains for finery into which the fair and softer sex are vainly trying to beguile the cunning Hebrew on their own accounts.

DR. BOTHERUM, THE MOUNTEBANK.

It seems probable that Rowlandson in his print of Doctor Botherum may have had a certain Doctor Bossy in his eye, a German practitioner of considerable skill, who enjoyed a comfortable private practice, said to have been the last of the respectable charlatans who exhibited in the British metropolis. This benevolent empiric, as Angelo informs us, dispensed medicines and practised the healing art, publicly and gratuitously on a stage, his booth being erected weekly in the midst of Covent-Garden Market, where the mountebank, handsomely dressed and wearing a gold-laced cocked hat, arrived in his chariot with a liveried servant behind.

According to the old custom, the itinerant quack doctor, with his attendant gang, was as constant a visitor at every market-place as the pedlar with his pack.

March 12, 1800. Humbugging, or Raising the Devil. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—A credulous personage, who, judging from his costume, is in a fair position in life, has called to consult a necromancer. The enchanter has a venerable beard, and a divining rod; according to usage, he has made a circle of skulls, toads, and other inviting objects, in the centre of which, through a stage trap, he is raising the 'very deil,' and has conjured up a pantomimic demon, horned, winged, and grotesquely arranged, holding in one hand a gore-stained dagger, and a goblet of suppositious blood in the other. The knees of the befooled spectator are trembling beneath him; his back is turned to a curtain which conceals a fair enchantress, who is assisting the invocation, and giving a practical turn to the delusion by removing a well-filled pocket-book from the coat-tail of the simple victim. In the background is the traditional whiskered cat, and the folio of cabalistic signs; a stuffed crocodile is suspended from the roof.

March 12, 1800. Hocus Pocus, or Searching for the Philosopher's Stone. Rowlandson del. and sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—Companion plate to 'Humbugging, or raising the Devil.' The artist introduces us to the laboratory of a so-called alchemist. A roguish Jew and his familiar are busily engaged in the transmutation of metals; the servant, with a pair of long-nozzled bellows, is engaged in kindling the furnace, in which is a crucible; various retorts, alembics, and other paraphernalia of the 'black arts,' are scattered about, as well as a formula for 'changing lead into gold;' although the alchemists at best could only contrive to accomplish the reverse transmutation. Suggestive prints are hung on the walls of this chamber of mystery, such as the portrait of the notorious 'Count Cagliostro, discoverer of the Philosopher's Stone,' and the figure of the spurious 'Bottle Conjurer.'

A military officer, in the next apartment, is turning his opportunities to more practical advantage by embracing, with a certain display of ardour, a pretty maiden—who is nothing loth,—the daughter, it appears, of the philosophically minded investigator.

April 1, 1800. A Ghost in the Wine Cellar. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James's Street, Adelphi.

April, 1800. Caricature Medallions for Screens. Published by R. Ackermann, Strand.

April 20, 1800. Hearts for the year 1800. Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, Strand.

May 1, 1800. Cash. Published by R. Ackermann.

May 1, 1800. Bills of Exchange. Published by R. Ackermann.

May 12, 1800. Melopoyn haranguing the prisoners in the Fleet. Hogarthian Novelist. Plate 5.

May 12, 1800. Captain Bowling introduced to Narcissa. Hogarthian Novelist. Plate 6.

May 20, 1800. A Skipping Academy. G. M. Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, Strand.

June, 1800. Sketches at the Oratorio. G. M. Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp.

June 4, 1800. Pictures of Prejudice. Designed by Woodward. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann.

June 4, 1800. Britannia's Protection, or Loyalty Triumphant.—George the Third, his face shown in profile, is standing upright and firm; his left arm is resting on the pillar of Fortitude, Britannia's shield is outstretched for his protection, and her spear is striking at the would-be assassin Hadfield, who, wearing a repellant expression, is slinking down before her: his pistol has fallen from his hand; round his neck is a halter, with the end of which a miniature edition of the Evil One is flying off, crying: 'Hadfield, for thy diabolical attempt thou shalt meet with thy reward!'

June 26, 1800. A Silly. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—An ill-favoured old maid, who is evidently a person of fortune, is seated on her sofa between two admirers, a clergyman and a military officer, who are respectively ambitious of the honour of her hand. Her old-maidish tastes are indicated by the nature of her pets; a monkey, seated in the embrasure of the window, is scratching his ear; he is supported on the opposite side by a parrot, which is screaming with the full force of its lungs.

June 26, 1800. A Sulky. Companion Print to A Silly. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—A fat old curmudgeon, a very porpoise in face, expression, and figure, is tippling and dozing in a semi-maudlin state, in front of the fire-place. His fair companion, an elegant young damsel, is dressed in readiness to make her escape into more agreeable society; she is fuming with impatience, but dares not venture to move for fear of arousing the attention of her besotted jailer. Her situation is more tantalising from the circumstance that the maid-servant has brought in a billet-doux from a handsome youth, her admirer, who, all impatience, is looking over the shoulders of his messenger.

July 25, 1800. Collar'd Pork. Companion to Beef à la Mode (see p. 3). Published by Ackermann.—A long-snouted black pig is decked out in the height of fashion, with ample neck-cloth, frill, wig, eye-glass, white ducks, blue coat with roll collar, brass buttons, his tail twisted up with bows, &c., à la queue. He wears Hessian boots, tassels, and spurs on his front legs; pumps with bows, and black silk stockings on his hind legs.

July 25, 1800. The Pleasures of Margate, in four compartments. Published by R. Ackermann.

Morning.—Breakfasting at Michiner's Grand Hotel.
Noon.—Dining at Michiner's Grand Hotel.
Evening.—A drive on the sands.
Night.—At the bazaars. Raffling for prizes, flirtation, &c.

August 20, 1800. Sailors Regaling. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James's Street, Adelphi.

1800. The Tuileries in Paris.—Original Drawing.

SUMMER AMUSEMENT, OR A GAME AT BOWLS.

August 20, 1800. Summer Amusement; or, a Game at Bowls. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James's Street, Adelphi.—It has been a custom immemorial to laugh at the exertions which were made by our ancestors to obtain rational open-air recreation. The fashionable part of society have, for once, found congenial allies in the wits. The papers which doubtless obtained the most popular reception in their day, since they laughed at the simple citizens 'on pleasure bent,' and held up their relaxations to a ridicule which was often neither subtle nor polished, were the essays in the Spectator, Tatler, Guardian, Humourist, &c., which made fun of the countrified loungings of the Londoners. The squibs, in the shape of poetical broadsheets and songs of the Stuart era, against sylvan aspirations, were but re-echoed by the bright and cultivated humourists who flourished when 'Anna ruled the realm.' Sturdy Hogarth, with his pictures, brought the commonplace pleasures—although he was addicted to them with no half-spirit himself—of his neighbours into ludicrous prominence. The Connoisseur, World, Mirror, Adventurer, Observer, Lounger, Looker-on, and even Johnson's Rambler, are particularly caustic on the comic side of humanity, as seen in their out-of-door pastimes. As to the days of transition, when the early Georgian generation was being rapidly submerged and effaced by the tide of progression, both writers and caricaturists combined to satirise cockney jauntings unmercifully. Gillray, Rowlandson, Collings, Boyle, Bunbury, Deighton, Woodward, Nixon, Newton, and a swarm of amateur followers, were always ready to make fun of suburban excursions; such productions were certain to obtain fame for the designers, and a ready patronage at the hands of a public which encouraged similar everyday irony.

It seems, however, now the suburbs have disappeared, where tea-gardens were once abundant—to which, armed with lanterns and in groups, for better security against the knights of the road, footpads, and similar dangers which were then rife, our forefathers repaired with light hearts, released from the culture of Mammon and money-grubbing—that we have lost a great deal which modern improvements are powerless to restore.

A little generation back there were still relics of past pleasure haunts, a Sluice House, a Hornsey Wood House, and numberless similar resorts for the dwellers in Babylon, who sighed to turn, for a brief afternoon of diversion, their respectable backs on groves of brick, and to regale their pastoral-longing eyes with a semblance of the country. Now the monster metropolis, with unsparing strides, has finally absorbed such patches of verdure, as made homely retreats on red-letter holidays; and life is considerably restricted, as regards the variety which an hour's jaunt could introduce into the prosaic current of yearly existence, as far as the boundaries of the giant city are concerned.

A great deal could be written on the defunct pleasure-gardens which once enlivened the outskirts; but their glories are departed, or at best preserved in the satires, literary and artistic, which contemporary humourists levelled at the Georgic-loving citizens who frequented them. Such a suburban retreat, with the motley crowds who disported themselves thereat, is graphically reproduced in Rowlandson's plate of Summer Amusement. Much of the delight was prosaic and toilsome; but, seemingly, good fun was to be had, and people could lay aside their conventional rigidity for once and awhile, when fine weather and the pleasant season tempted them to stray, and leave the everlasting counting-house at home, for a game at bowls and a little wholesome relaxation. The various groups found in the picture are well conceived. Two games are proceeding, into which cits, of various degrees, are throwing their entire energies. The whimsical accompaniments connected with 'taking tea in the arbour' are faithfully seized. The soberer elders are crowding the hospitable 'house of call.' Round the foremost table is gathered a convivial party; the worthy souls are draining a parting bowl, before commencing their return journey, for which the lantern is set on the ground in prudent preparation. A little toasting is going on at the next table, and beyond that an arcadian flirtation is in progress, with various incidents transpiring around, such as the observant philosopher might have noted in 1800, without travelling very far out of his way.

August 30, 1800. Gratification of the Senses à la mode Française.—(Seeing, Tasting, Hearing, Smelling, Feeling.)

October 1. The Newspaper. G. M. Woodward invt., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

October 29, 1800. Grotesque borders for Rooms and Halls.—Published October 25 and 29, 1800, by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp.

1800 (?). Sterne, L. The Beauties of Sterne. With one plate by T. Rowlandson. 12mo.

1800. Sterne, L. The Sentimental Journey. With plates by Thomas Rowlandson. 12mo.

1800. Yorick feeling the Grisette's Pulse. 8vo.—The interior of the Grisette's Magasin des Modes. The plate is delicately etched. Yorick is seated beside the pretty milliner; the complaisant husband is bowing, grimacing, and attitudinising. A poodle is on a settee. Two blocks, hat and cap moulds, are, with bandboxes, robes, &c., scattered around. Outside is seen a glimpse of the quaint antiquated French street life, such as might be encountered by the sentimental traveller before the Revolution:—priests, monks, portresses, &c., with images of saints at the street corners.

On August 15, 1800, Mr. Ackermann issued at his Repository of Arts, 101 Strand, a series of six plates designed and etched in Rowlandson's boldest and most spirited style; and finished and coloured in almost exact imitation of the original drawings. Each plate contains three large distinct heads, festooned with attributes peculiar to the respective designs. It is not very clear whether these symbolical groupings, which are superior in execution to the average of Rowlandson's published works, were devised to be cut up for scrap-books, screens, or wall borderings; but they have become remarkably scarce since the date of publication, and sets of these typical heads (eighteen in all) are rarely met with at the present date.

Philosophorum.—The head of the philosopher closely resembles the conventional portrait accorded to Father Time, horn spectacles, forelock, grey beard and all. The globe, a sextant, mariner's compass, chart, telescope, dividers, bells, squares, thermometers, &c., make up the symbolical garland which depends from the ears of this emblem of knowledge.

Fancynina.—This figure is borne out by one of the artist's favourite types of female beauty, a well-featured, handsomely made and languishing-looking young lady, wearing a modish hat, all feathered, beaded, and flowered. The portrait of Fancynina is festooned with such emblems of feminine frivolity as French rouge, Court sticking-plaister (for patches), ottar of roses, watches and trinkets, miniatures of admirers, an opera glass, a black domino or half-mask, a huge muff, parasol, fan, &c.

Epicurum.—An old gourmand in a red nightcap, whose flushed and blossoming countenance appears through a goodly string of sausages; a gridiron, a basting ladle, a cucumber, and other indications of creature comforts complete the emblems of this figure.

Penserosa.—The head of a tragic performer, modelled on that of one of the Gorgones is used to illustrate this figure. The Medusa head is entwined with serpents, and wreathed below with a festoon of bays, beneath which hang the dagger and bowl, and the manuscript of Penserosa's tragic part.

Tally ho! rum!—The head of a Nimrod, backed with a huntsman's cap, is the sign-piece of this figure; a corne de chasse is hung round the sportsman's neck, and on it are spurs, horseshoes, whips, a gun, powder-flask, and game bag; a fox's head completes the group of emblems distinctive of Tally ho! rum!

Allegoria.—The head of a rubicund, but young and well-featured, Bacchus does duty for Allegoria; heavy clusters of vine-leaves, and bunches of purple grapes and tendrils crown and surround the bucolic divinity; below is a Silenus mask; bacchanalian flutes, and pipes of Pan, complete the insignia.

Physicorum.—The face of a lean, high-dried, and sharp-featured doctor, with a high, white wig, and a profusion of horsehair curls, figures forth Physicorum with proper character; festoons of bottles of medicine, soporific, strengthening, emollient, purging and sleeping draughts in all varieties, boxes of pills, ointments, drops, prescriptive puffs, quackeries, and the inevitable syringe and clyster pipe, make up the attributes of the physician.

Nunina.—The head of a rosy-cheeked and buxom Nun, her eyes devoutly raised to realms above. Beneath the portrait the crowned and ghastly skull of King Death, a book of devotions, a flagellum for discipline, a crucifix, hour-glass and rosary, and other pious symbols are displayed.

Publicorum.—The face of a fat and rubicund-visaged landlord does duty as the emblem of Publicorum; as may be supposed, the symbols of this personage consist mainly of convivial attributes—tobacco-boxes, pipes, bottles of rum, brandy, and rack; a tankard, limes, lemons, a punchbowl, ladle, &c.

Funeralorum.—The head of a professional mourner, with long crape streamers round his hat, and a mourning cloak. Funeralorum is surrounded by such cheerful attributes as funeral sermons, advertisements of interments, and invitations to the same, burial fees, titles, last wills and testaments, hatchments, Yorick's skull, an hour-glass, and a sexton's pick and spade.

Virginia.—The head of a soured and malignant-looking old maid, whose favourite parrot is screaming in her ear. The vixenish face is festooned with suppositious attributes of old spinsterhood—a group of boxes of snuff, corn-plaisters, padlocks, pincushions, cats-meat, anonymous letters, drops for the colic; while a bag for 'winnings at quadrille' is displayed on the Scandalous Magazine, beside which are perched two spitting and caterwauling old tom-cats.

Hazardorum.—The head given as representative of Hazardorum wears a very disconsolate and downcast look; fortune has not favoured the gambler, as is figuratively evinced by a purse turned upside down, from which the contents are escaping, mortgage-deeds, annuity bonds, Hoyle on Chances, a betting book, a game cock, rackets, dice and a dice-box. The Racing Calendar, playing cards, billiard cues, a loaded pistol, and other suggestive emblems supply the features of Hazardorum.

Battlcorum.—The head of a fierce-looking warrior, with plumed hat, sets forth Battlcorum; warlike attributes surround the stern hero, whose face is grim as war itself. Chain-shot, pistols, shot-belts, a cartouche box, bayonet, sword, gun, drum. &c., help out the martial figure and assist its due signification.

Billingsgatina displays the face of a buxom young fish-girl, topped with a sailor's straw hat, and surrounded by evidences of her fishy profession: strings of eels, lobsters, crabs, cod, oysters, and fish-baskets are introduced to support the character of Billingsgatina.

Trafficorum is represented by a long-haired, hook-nosed, shrewd-eyed Jew pedlar, wearing an unkempt beard; round his neck hangs the suggestive hawker's box, with the multifarious contents of the pack displayed; scissors, tape, ribands, spectacles, purses, razors, combs, knives, forks and spoons, watches, trinkets, necklaces, ear-rings, buckles, and an infinity of similar articles, disclose the identity of Trafficorum.

Barberorum.—The head of a French hair-dresser does duty for this figure; a comb is stuck in the lengthy locks, and a white apron is pinned under the shaven chin. Implements properly pertaining to the barber's calling are introduced to form a trophy; a string of wigs of all colours and shapes, a block, powder-bags, curling-irons, tongs, combs, scissors, tooth brushes, razors and Packwood's strops, flasks of scent, eau de Luce, lotions, boxes of pommades, rouge, &c., furnish forth emblemata of the hair-dressing Barberorum.

Flora is represented by a sweetly innocent flower-seller, whose soft and winning face appears above clusters of roses, lilies, tulips, bluebells, and other flowers, while beneath the attributes of Flora are completed by a basket of fruits and vegetables.

Lawyerorum very significantly closes the series of emblematical heads. The counsel is a hard-featured, sharp, close, shrewd, and long-headed looking individual, attired in his horsehair wig, and festooned around with the sweets of his profession—Affidavits, Subpœnæ, Perjuries, Bankrupts enlarged, 'Wills made on the shortest notice,' Writs of Error, Clausum Friget, Bills of Costs, Declarations, Actions between John Doe and Richard Roe, Warrants for assaults, Habeas Corpus, Suits in Chancery, Lists of Informations, Quirks, Quibbles, Briefs, Title-deeds, Statutes at large, bags of causes, ponderous legal volumes; the emblemata are significantly supported by a well-filled brief bag, plethoric with 'cash received on clients' accounts, not paid over.'

1800. A Peep into Bethlehem.

Ah! then dismounted from his spavin'd hack, To Bethlehem's walls, with Burke, I saw him borne, There the straight waistcoat close embrac'd his back: While Peggy's wreath of straw did either brow adorn, And there they sit, two grinners, vis-a-vis; He writing Grub Street verse, Burke ranting rhapsody.

Vide Melancholy Catastrophe, by Peter Fig, Esq.

The bard Peter Pindar is leaning his elbows on a sheet of verses lately commenced, 'An Ode to Paine,' his poems the 'Lousiad,' 'Pension,' 'Ode upon Ode,' &c., are scattered on the ground. Burke, with a shaven head, and wearing a rosary round his neck, is declaiming impassioned eloquence, while his foot is trampling upon two volumes, the 'Rights of Man,' and 'Common Sense,' with Peter Pindar's 'Ode upon Ode.'

1800 (?). Country Characters. No. 1, A Publican. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The parlour of a country public-house, hung round with pictures on equestrian subjects, after the manner of the inimitable gallery of Professor Gambado: Horse Accomplishments, introducing such peculiarities as An Astronomer, or Star-gazing Steed; An Arithmetician, where the animal is working out problems with his nose on the ground; A Loiterer, where the horse pauses to ruminate, &c. The publican is drinking in true old-fashioned landlordlike style with the squire, a Tony Lumkin of a landed proprietor; mine host wears a red nightcap, and clean white sleeves, apron, and stockings. Tony Lumkin has been trying to palm off an old story on his friend, but the landlord's experience is too much for him. 'Come, squire,' he cries, 'that won't do; that's Joe Miller, I'm sure, page 490.'

Country Characters. No. 2, A Justice. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

Country Characters. No. 3, A Barber. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—A stout gentleman, divested of his wig, has sat down for the tonsorial process, holding in his lap the London Gazette Newspaper; the village Figaro, a highly-dried and austere personage, of marked political proclivities, has fixed his melancholy eyes on the latest intelligence, while, not to waste time, he is pursuing the operation of shaving his unhappy victim; simultaneously the edge of his razor-blade is taking an upward tendency, and his right hand is sawing away at the sitter's olfactory organ, while his left holds that important member immoveable. 'They write from Amsterdam,' reads the preoccupied barber; while the gentleman in the seat of torture, writhing with pain and apprehension, vehemently shouts: 'Halloh! you sir,—what, are you going to cut my nose off?'

The remainder of the series does not require a more particular description.

1800 (?). Country Characters. No. 4, Footman. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

1800 (?). Country Characters. No. 5, Tax-gatherer. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

1800 (?). Country Characters. No. 6, Squire. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

1800 (?). Country Characters. No. 7, Vicar. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

1800 (?). Country Characters. No. 8, Doctor. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

1800 (?). Country Characters. No. 9, Exciseman. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

1800 (?). Country Characters. No. 10, Steward. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

1800 (?). Country Characters. No. 11, Attorney. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

1800 (?). Country Characters. No. 12, London Outrider, or Brother Saddle-bag. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

1800. Matrimonial Comforts. No. 1, The Dinner Spoil'd. G. M. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—A family party sitting down to the diurnal repast. The head of the house is an ill-favoured person, of advanced age and wearing a tremendous wig. Before him is a leg of mutton, and, knife and fork in hand, he is considering the joint with the eye of disfavour. 'It's red!' he grumbles, 'not fit to eat!—these are the blessed effects of boiling mutton in a cloth!' His wife is regarding the dinner with consternation; one son is opening his eyes, and 'making a mouth' apprehensive of losing his dinner; another youth bears a look of absolute dejection; the family circle is completed by the addition of a queer poodle, seated on his hind legs, and wearing a disappointed look, like the rest of the diners. An appropriate pair of figures, Peace and Concord, are hung on the wall by way of pictures.

1800. Matrimonial Comforts. No. 2, Late Hours. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

1800. Matrimonial Comforts. No. 3, An Anonymous Letter. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

1800. Matrimonial Comforts. No. 4, A Return from a Walk. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—A venerable and somewhat decrepit spouse has been for a 'constitutional.' On his return he is gratified with the discovery of a very interesting domestic tableau: his young and pretty wife is fast asleep on the knee of a dashing officer, who, seated on the family sofa, is also slumbering blissfully, with one arm round the waist of the faithless wife, while his hand is clasping that of the lady, one of whose arms tenderly encircles the neck of her martial admirer. The rash intruder on this scene, with good reason, is much shocked at the situation, and is exclaiming in dismay, 'My wife! as sure as I am a haberdasher.'

1800. Matrimonial Comforts. No. 5, Killing with Kindness. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The victim to ill-directed matrimonial attentions is a stout countrified old gentleman; he is seated in his arm-chair, very much at the mercy of two fair and youthful tormentors, whose exertions on his behalf are probably not disinterested. The wife, a very stylish damsel, seemingly young enough to be the daughter of her embarrassed spouse, is leaning on his chair and pressing him to partake of a dish of fruit, and insisting, 'You must have some apricots, my love!' while her sister, patting the husband affectionately on the shoulder, is forcing a bunch of grapes into his mouth, which he has incautiously opened, to express his dissent: 'Just take these grapes, brother-in-law, you never eat finer!' The old gentleman, who shrewdly values this devotion at its worth, is crying: 'I wo'nt eat anything more, I tell you—I shall be choked—got an eye to the estate, I suppose!'

1800. Matrimonial Comforts. No. 6, A Fashionable Suit. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The tailor, with measuring-tape on shoulder and shears in pocket, has brought home a new suit, into which an ill-made and clumsy-looking personage has, with some difficulty, managed to thrust his limbs. The coat is that very unbecoming garment, fashionable at the date of the etching, and known as a Jean de Brie—a close-fitting, swallow-tailed garment, with a hump-like high collar, and sleeves tight to the shoulders, which were distended by a gouty puff, giving a generally distorted appearance to the back of the wearer. The victim is contemplating his uncomfortable suit in a looking-glass held by the tailor, who is dismayed at the indignant protest of his client: 'Why, you have put me a hump upon each shoulder, and here's a pair of Dutchman's breeches that would hold provision for a marching regiment; well, I tell you what, Master Tailor, d—— me if I would go to our club such a figure for fifty pounds!' The snip is assuring him in reply: 'Made entirely to your lady's orders, your Honour, I assure you she said now you was married you should look like the rest of the world.'

1800. Matrimonial Comforts. No. 7, Washing Day. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—A stout and comfortable-looking gentleman, whose features wear a very sulky and discontented expression, is giving one hand to a cheerful old 'chum' from the country, and pointing with the disengaged hand to two stout wenches deep in the washing-tubs: 'Ah! my old friend,' cries the host to the traveller, 'I wish you had called at some more convenient time, but this is washing day—I have nothing to give you but cold fish, cold tripe, and cold potatoes, you may smell soapsuds a mile! Ah Jack! Jack! you don't know these Comforts! You are a bachelor!'

1800. Matrimonial Comforts. No. 8, A Curtain Lecture. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The bedchamber of a couple who seem to disagree. The clock points to 'five o'clock in the morning,' and the husband, night-cap on head, and his face bearing an expression of injured martyrdom, has clasped his hands in despair of obtaining rest from the energetic denunciations of his wife, who, leaning over him in a commanding attitude, is pouring forth her 'Caudle-like' remonstrances over the prostrate sufferer: 'Yes, you base man, you; don't you eat, drink, and sleep comfortably at home? and still you must be jaunting abroad every night. I'll find out all your intrigues, you may depend on it.'

1800 (?). Preparation for the Academy, Old Joseph Nollekens and his Venus.—John Thomas Smith, many years Keeper of the prints and drawings in the British Museum, and better known by his works on metropolitan antiquities, to which he furnished etchings, as well as archæological researches, has left us one of the chattiest and most eccentric biographies to be found in the annals of literature—the Life of the Sculptor Nollekens, whose pupil he was. Much as we are indebted to 'Antiquity Smith' for the whimsical anecdotes he has imported into his unequivocally entertaining pair of volumes, which touch freely upon contemporary men and things under their most familiar and every-day aspect, we cannot fail to feel a passing regret that the versatile keeper has forgotten to make any anecdotal mention of his friend Rowlandson, with whom he was on terms of cordiality. The caricaturist had presented, at times, some of his most interesting drawings to 'his old friend John Thomas Smith,' as he has taken care to inscribe on the margins, with his autograph; the best of these is possibly, Drawing from the Life-School at the Royal Academy—a subject upon which both the humourists were well informed, since they had worked there as students, and were more or less acquainted with all the artists of the day, and, moreover, it being impossible to overlook such points, with their keen sense of the eccentric; they had noted—the one with his pencil, and the other with his pen—all the striking peculiarities, personal or professional, of their numerous associates. The latest portrait the present writer has seen of our artist is one drawn with a pen in outline and tinted with Indian ink by the worthy keeper, one day when the caricaturist was visiting the Print Room of the British Museum, Rowlandson being, at that time, well advanced in years. The sketch is that of a large and decisive-looking elderly gentleman, with a bald head, firmly-cut features, and wearing big old-fashioned spectacles; this portrait was taken while the subject was stooping to examine a drawing. Beneath it John Thomas Smith has inscribed the particulars under which he came to draw the portrait of 'his old friend.'

The grave omission with which we have to charge Nollekens' biographer, usually so amazingly fertile in individualistic traits of everyone he knew—and he seems to have been fairly acquainted with, or to have something amusing to impart about, nearly everybody of any note—in respect to the caricaturist, of whom his writings make no sort of mention, is the more to be regretted, since it was probably a sly hint imparted by 'Antiquity Smith' which produced the picture of the gifted old miser at work on one of his cherished subjects—a whimsical study, doubtless founded on a special visit of observation, instituted, with Nollekens' old pupil, for the very purpose. As regards the sculptor's portrait, which is seemingly caricatured, John Thomas Smith comes in as aptly with his description[1] as if the two sittings had taken place simultaneously, and the biographer and artist had worked en collaboration:—'His figure was short, his head big, and it appeared much increased by a large-crowned hat, of which he was very fond. His neck was short, his shoulders narrow, his body too large, particularly in the front lower part; he was bow-legged and hook-nosed; indeed, his leg was somewhat like his nose, which resembled the rudder of an Antwerp packet-boat; his lips were rather thin, but between his brows there was great evidence of study.'

PREPARATIONS FOR THE ACADEMY. OLD JOSEPH NOLLEKENS AND HIS VENUS.

As to 'his Venuses' Mrs. Nollekens invariably continued to express the most derogatory opinions, since she regarded his fair models as 'abandoned huzzies, with whom she had no patience,' regarding her eccentric spouse as quite on their level, for she cherished the extraordinary conviction that after his marriage he ought to have 'dispensed with such people.' While Mrs. Nollekens was unduly mindful of her husband's favourite models, it seems these ladies, under altered circumstances, occasionally amused themselves by reminding the sculptor of their former acquaintance, on which pleasant fact his biographer does not fail to enlarge, in more than one instance:—

'Our sculptor would sometimes amuse himself, on a summer's evening, by standing with his arms behind him at the yard-gate, which opened into Titchfield Street. During one of these indulgences, as a lady was passing, most elegantly dressed, attended by a strapping footman in silver-laced livery, with a tall gilt-headed cane, she nodded to him, and, smiling, asked him if he did not know her. On his reply that he did not recollect her, "What, sir!" exclaimed she, "do you forget Miss Coleman, who brought a letter to you from Charles Townley, to compare limbs with your Venus? Why, I have been with you twenty times in that little room, to stand for your Venus." "Oh! lawk-a-daisy, so you have!" answered Nollekens. "Why, what a fine woman you're grown! Come, walk in, and I'll show you your figure—I have done it in marble." After desiring the man to stop at the gate she went in with him; and upon seeing Mrs. Nollekens at the parlour-window, who was pretending to talk to and feed her sister's bullfinch, but who had been informed by the vigilant Bronze (the eccentric maid-servant of this odd pair) of what had been going on at the gate, she went up to her and said, "Madam, I have to thank——." Mrs. Nollekens then elevated herself on her toes, and, with a lisping palpitation, began to address the lady. "Oh, dear," observed Miss Coleman, "and you don't know me! You have given me many a basin of broth in the depth of winter, when I used to stand for Venus." Mrs. Nollekens, not knowing what to think of Joseph, shook her head at him as she slammed the window, at the same time exclaiming, "Oh, fie! Mr. Nollekens! Fie! fie!" Bronze assured me that when her master went into the front parlour he had a pretty warm reception. "What!" said her mistress, "to know such wretches after you have done with them in your studio!"'

In Rowlandson's picture the sculptor is actually at work on a Venus and Cupid; one of his most successful models.[2]

1800. Rainbow Tavern, in Fleet Street, in 1800.

1800. Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales in the year 1797, by Henry Wigstead, with plates from Rowlandson, Pugh, Howitt, &c. (Aquatinted by J. Hill.) London: Published by W. Wigstead, 40 Charing Cross. 8vo.—The particulars of the tour undertaken under these auspices are thus briefly set forth by one of the travellers:—

'The romantic and picturesque scenery of North and South Wales, having within these few years been considered highly noticeable and attractive, I was induced to visit this Principality with my friend Mr. Rowlandson, whose abilities as an artist need no eulogium from me. We left London in August 1797, highly expectant of gratification: nor were our highest hopes in the least frustrated.

'At the time of our excursion I had no idea of submitting to the public any of our minutes or sketches; but, as several of the subjects amongst our scenery have become topics of admiration, as well to the artist as cursory traveller, I have in the following sheets endeavoured to give a faint idea of their beauties; accompanied by some short remarks on the road, merely intended as a sort of vade mecum to stimulate the readers to further and more important enquiries; and in order, if possible, that they may, by being apprised of many inconveniences we experienced, be enabled to avoid them.'

Plates.

• Coventry, with a view of the effigy of Peeping Tom, and the King's Head. By T. Rowlandson.
• Wolverhampton. The Market, Bevan's Toy Shop, and the Church. By T. Rowlandson.
• Langollen.
• The King's Apartments, Conway Castle.
• Penmanmawr. H. Wigstead, del.
• Caernarvon.
• Snowdon, from Llanberris Lake. H. Wigstead, del.

Speaking of the natives of Llanberris, Wigstead describes them in such picturesque terms that we are tempted to quote the paragraph:—

'The people here are really almost in a state of simple nature. The value of money is scarcely known; they pay the rent of their premises in cattle generally, which they breed on their land. Flesh is scarce ever tasted by them; and, except when visitors leave behind remnants of wine, ale, &c., milk is the principal beverage that passes their lips. They are remarkably observant of any decorations worn by ladies, such as beads, laces, and feathers, which strengthened my opinion of their similitude with the Otaheiteans, &c. These they admire, and handle with a sort of rudeness bordering on savage manners, likely to raise alarm in the breast of the fair wearer.'

• Nantz Mill and Bethgellert. By T. Rowlandson.
• Pont Aberglasslyn. By H. Wigstead.
• Festiniog. By T. Rowlandson.
• A Welsh Landlady (fac-similed from the original drawing). By H. Wigstead.
• Waterfall near Dolghelly.
• Aberystwith.
• Cardigan. T. Rowlandson, del.
• Inside of a Kitchen at Newcastle (near Carmarthen). By T. Rowlandson.

The latter subject pictures forth a capital interior, in Rowlandson's own graphic manner. A turnspit is represented in his wheel, with the chain attached to the spit, for roasting the joint before the fire. It is reasonable that these poor creatures, tired of the squirrel-like performance, should have welcomed the mechanical contrivance of the roasting-jack.[3] The tourist describes one difficulty the epicure encountered under the ancient state of things:—'Newcastle is a pleasant village; a decent inn here; a dog is employed as turnspit. Great care is taken that the animal does not observe the cook approach the larder; if he does he immediately hides himself for the remainder of the day, and the guest must be satisfied with more humble fare than intended.'

• Swansea. By T. Rowlandson.
• Cardiff Castle. By T. Rowlandson.
• Caerphilly Castle. By T. Rowlandson.
• The Hanging Tower at Caerphilly. By H. Wigstead.
• The Union of the Wye with the Severn, from Chepstow.
• Tintern Abbey.
• Raglan Castle. By T. Rowlandson.

1801.

January 1, 1801. The Epicure. Published by S. W. Fores. (See 1788.)

January 1, 1801. A Money Scrivener. (Companion to A Counsellor.) S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.—The scrivener inhabits a poor, squalid office; his clerk is perched on a high stool by the window. The worthy wears a nightcap, and has a quill behind his ear; he is poring over a ledger at a tumbledown desk; one finger on his nose illustrates his absorption in some weighty deliberation. Files of accounts and boxes of deeds and papers form the rest of the scrivener's surroundings.

January 1, 1801. A Counsellor. Published by S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.

A COUNSELLOR.

January 1801. The Union. Published by Ackermann.—Pitt, a burlesque St. George, clad in armour, is seated on the British bull, who is horn-locked, nose to nose, snorting forth challenges in the face of the furious Irish bull, on which is mounted St. Patrick, with mitre and crozier. The national Irish saint, whose beard gives him the expression of a Jew, is crying, ''Pon my conscience I don't know what you call it, but the deuce of anything like a Union do I see, except their horns being fastened together.' Pitt replies, 'Never fear, St. Patrick; all will be yet very well; they are a little restive at first, but they will take to it kindly enough by and by, I'll warrant you.'

January 1, 1801. A Jew Broker. Published by S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.—Shylock, with his bond in the pocket of his gaberdine and his crutch-stick under his arm, is abstractedly polishing his glasses, although his watchful eyes are sharp enough without any artificial assistance, as he stands at the corner of Duke's Place, then the accepted rallying-point of his tribe. His face expresses a profoundly baffled emotion, which is portrayed with a masterly hand. He is musing, in abject despair, over a chance lost, a bargain missed, a gain which has slipped through his prehensile fingers. Some Antonio of our modern Venice founded on the shores of the Thames has escaped his toils; some point of law, a flaw in the indentures, mayhap, has been turned to account by a later 'Daniel come to judgment—a wise young judge,' to whom the disconcerted Hebrew is finally loth to offer his gratitude. He seemingly mumbles, with the pertinacity of Shylock:—

My deeds upon my head! I crave the law, The penalty and forfeit of my bond.

A JEW BROKER.

January 15, 1801. The Brilliants, (21¼ × 16.) Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—We are not prepared with any special particulars as to the foundation of this convivial club; but we may record a solitary gratuitous observation, that in spite of the melancholy and frequent carpings, on puritanical grounds, which are now in fashion, over the growing degeneracy of the times in which we live—the sanctimonious being given to assert that each succeeding generation inveterately surpasses the excesses of its predecessors—in the instances of drinking and gaming our ancestors went to extremes beside which our modern dissipations, in their wildest excesses, fall into paltry insignificance. The clubs of the past, in the item of iniquity, although the institution was in its infancy, surpassed those of the present day in such a degree that our 'fastest' haunts appear prudish by comparison.

THE BRILLIANTS.

As to The Brilliants, we do not accept the scene, in its literal sense, as a faithful transcript of current amusements as practised at the commencement of the century; but, allowing for the exaggeration of burlesque, we are far from denying that it is founded on actual observation, in an age notoriously given to conviviality, which was carried, in all phases of society, beyond the bounds of discretion, and, in some instances, to a decree incredible in our times. Their Royal Highnesses the Princes of the Blood, their Graces the Dukes, the proverbially drunken Lords, the Right Honourable Ministers of State, Honourable Members of every political shade, and gallant and learned gentlemen of the various services and professions, were, with the rest of the community, without mentioning notorious and personal instances, under no restraint of decorum in regard to inebriety; and, if we may trust their own chroniclers, exhibited themselves without reserve as frequently drunk as sober. If, in our charitable concessions to the failings of our ancestors, we assume that our artist has exercised undue licence in the representation of their failings, from the president of The Brilliants downwards, we must further take 'a grain of salt' to qualify our belief in the fidelity with which he has transmitted us the 'club rules.' It is impossible that any convivialist could continue to be 'brilliant' after his senses were diluted by the amount of fluid prescribed as a qualification for membership; the light that was in him must be effectally extinguished by the vinous drenching that was de rigueur:—

'Rules to be Observed in this Society.

• '1st. That each member shall fill a half-pint bumper to the first toast.
• '2nd. That after twenty-four bumper toasts are gone round every member may fill as he pleases.
• '3rd. That any member refusing to comply with the above regulations to be fined, i.e. compelled to swallow a bumper of salt and water.'

January 15, 1801. Undertakers Regaling. John Nixon, Esq., del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—This large plate, which is designed with a due appreciation of grim humour and tipsy jocularity, introduces the traditional relaxations of the funeral furnishers, whose jollifications are supposed to offer the most ghastly contrast to their sober professional duties. On a convenient plot of grass mutes, wandsmen, hearse-drivers, and all the other melancholy functionaries of the last rites of unconscious humanity, are picnicking with a true zest and appreciation of rural freedom. A substantial pie, and other suggestive 'funeral baked meats,' are being disposed of to the best advantage; but, excellent trenchermen though the undertakers may prove themselves, their main distinction must rest on their bibulous qualities; the members of the fraternity are applying themselves with hearty goodwill to the fluids, far on the road to becoming 'glorious,' while some of the party have already reached their congenial stage 'of half seas over.' These festivities, of course, take place in the vicinity of a 'house of call for funerals,' at the sign of 'The Owl,' in the neighbourhood of a burial-ground, the hospitable hostelry being kept by 'Robert Death,' whose inn is a resting-place for all returning hearses on that particular road. Groups of gentlemen engaged in the 'black business' are seated at tables, enjoying their long clay pipes, or otherwise diverting themselves with romping and horse-play; the members of another party, preparing to resume their route back to the metropolis, are on the roof of their hearse, their legs hanging over the side with pastoral-like simplicity, smoking their 'church-wardens' and hobnobbing their pewter quart pots with true bacchanalian appreciation of the enjoyments of the hour. The results of too indiscriminate indulgence are noticeable in the dangerous situation of those coaches which are attempting to 'homeward wend their melancholy way,' and are being overturned in the process by their tipsy drivers.

SYMPTOMS OF SANCTITY.

January 20, 1801. Symptoms of Sanctity. Published by S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.—This subject—which, to say the least of it, is suggestively bold, though by no means, in our opinion, coming under the enumeration of 'risky equivoque'—might be fittingly described as Superstition and Sensuality; the pious belief, amounting to fanaticism, of the conventual 'Sister' contrasting strongly with the licentious impiety of the gross priest.

January 30, 1801. Single Combat, in Moorfields, or Magnanimous Paul O! Challenging All O! Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The ring is formed in Moorfields, crowds of spectators are gathered around, the curious have climbed up every available point of sight, and observers are scrambling over the roofs. 'Magnanimous Paul O!' the mad Emperor, is represented as a Russian bear; his sword is tempered 'à la Suwarrow,' and his shield is inscribed 'Swallow all O!' The British champion, Pitt, encased in a demi-suit of mail, is jauntily meeting his adversery; the Minister's sword is tempered 'à la Nelson,' and the names of his redoubtable admirals, Howe, Duncan, Nelson, Jervis, and Parker, are the safeguards of his buckler. A Russian general, who is acting as his master's squire, is reading Paul's extraordinary cartel: 'Be it known to all men, that my master, the most magnanimous, most puissant, most powerful, and most wonderful Great Bear of the North, being in his sound and sober senses, challenges the whole world to single combat, and commences his first trial of skill here, in Moorfields, after which it is his intention to pursue his travels, and visit every Court in Europe, Asia, Africa, and America.'

The Emperor Paul, who had acquired almost universal popularity at the commencement of his reign by putting himself at the head of the allied armies which were opposing the victorious career of Napoleon, now astonished his admirers in England by a complete change of policy. He proclaimed himself Grand Master of Malta, which had been conquered by us in 1800. The British Government refused to recognise his authority; the Emperor in revenge laid an embargo upon all British ships in Russian ports, and succeeded in inducing the Danish, Swedish, and Prussian Courts to enter into a convention to protect their commerce against the encroachments of the English. Gillray has drawn the ill-favoured and mad sovereign, under the title 'Mens turpe, corpore turpi,' trampling on the treaty of alliance into which he had entered in concert with Austria and England.

Some two months after the issue of this caricature the wayward tyranny of the Emperor, who gave unmistakable evidence of mental aberration, became insupportable, and he was requested to abdicate. Paul obstinately clung to absolute power, but in spite of his precautions a conspiracy was organised by his disgusted nobles, his palace was entered, and he was strangled with his own military scarf, which, by the way, the satirists always drew of extravagant dimencions well suited for such a purpose.

It will be remembered that Paul's career was an unfortunate one, and the vicissitudes of his youth may have disordered his faculties. On his birth his father, Peter the Third, issued a ukase denying the legitimacy of his son's paternity: on the publication of this statement the Empress put her husband to death. Paul's earlier years were harassed by trouble, and the last act of his mother was a fruitless effort to exclude him from the succession. His reign commenced auspiciously; acts of clemency and munificence distinguished his government; as the head of the alliance against France he was looked upon as the legitimate champion of monarchy. After sharing the defeats sustained by the allied armies his views underwent a remarkable change. Buonaparte, with his matchless discrimination, contrived to flatter the Emperor's vanity, and, among other strokes of policy, returned all the Russian prisoners, well-armed and newly-clad. Paul now entered into a defensive alliance with France to drive the English out of India; and, to destroy our maritime supremacy, he established the Northern Confederation for the suppression of British commerce.

The caricature Single Combat in Moorfields is founded on an extraordinary proceeding, which filled Europe with astonishment at its unequalled eccentricity. The Emperor published an advertisement in the Court Gazette of St. Petersburg, stating, to the amazement of the world, that, as 'the Powers could not agree among themselves, he intended to point out a spot, to which all the other sovereigns were invited to repair, to fight in single combat, bringing with them, as seconds and esquires, their most enlightened ministers and ablest generals.' His subjects were continually annoyed by acts of minor and fantastic oppression—such as an edict against 'round hats and pantaloons,' which he forbade any person to wear in his empire. He enforced the revival of hair-powder and pigtails, and issued a proclamation to compel all persons whom he encountered in the street to leave their carriages and prostrate themselves before him. No one was safe from his paroxysms. The carriage of the British Ambassador passed the Imperial Palace at a pace which the Emperor chose to consider disrespectful; he immediately ordered the coachman to be beaten, the horses to be beaten, and the carriage to be beaten. The Ambassador in return resented these indignities by discharging his servants, ordering his horses to be shot, and his carriage to be thrown into the Neva. An insane autocrat was found to be a formidable calamity.

The favourable reception accorded to Country Characters, Matrimonial Comforts, &c., induced Woodward to design further successions of subjects, enlisting the assistance of Rowlandson to carry out his ideas. In 1801, the year following, appeared a series of broadsides, Prayers and Journals; each sheet contained a coloured illustration, designed by Woodward and etched by Rowlandson; the space below the design was filled up with descriptive matter from Woodward's pen, that worthy being given to the cultivation of the various Muses in turn. The letterpress, which occupied the larger half of these broadsides, was printed by E. Spragg, 27 Bow Street, Covent Garden; and the series was published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. Our readers will be able to form an impression of these compositions from the occasional extracts we offer; these Prayers, Journals, &c., are not of sufficient consequence to warrant us in offering repetitions at length.

February 10, 1801. The Old Maid's Prayer. (Addressed to Diana.) Designed by Woodward. Published by T. Rowlandson.

February 10, 1801. The Epicure's Prayer. Designed by Woodward. Published by T. Rowlandson.

1801. The Maiden's Prayer. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.—This petition is addressed to 'O thou divine little Cupid,' while the fair votary, who is still a susceptible and romantic boarding-school miss, is recounting her various love affairs, and praying the rosy deity to bless and make fortunate her several concealed (and imaginary) passions for such male creatures as she has chanced to encounter in the daily routine of school-life, the music-master, a drill-sergeant, Parson Pert, and similar characters, who are probably regarded with similar emotion by the remainder of the pupils.

1801. The Miser's Prayer. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.—The devotions of Old Avarice, which are necessarily very profound and earnest, are offered appropriately at the feet of his divinity, 'Plutus, God of Riches'; the temple of wealth is not exteriorly sumptuous; the carpet is a rag; a strong-box, a broken chair, and a rushlight make up the sordid furniture. The miser is confessing that he possesses nine houses, estates in Essex, mortgages in Hertford, large landed speculations in Russell Square and the neighbourhood, reversions of estates, trading ventures, 'Mermaid' sloop, funded property, Government securities, &c., &c.; he is beseeching an increase of his means, success to his investments, and a rise in the 'Stocks.'

June 4, 1801. The Widow's Prayer.—A widow, still young and blooming, is shown kneeling before the empty chair of the late lamented partner of her joys; the bereaved lady is looking forward to consolation; her supplications are offered to Hymen for a fourth spouse, and she is praying, that should the new husband who is to follow be as unfortunate as his predecessors, the number of happy men may be extended to seven; or more if need be.

June 25, 1801. The Maid of Allwork's Prayer.—The picture at the head of this invocation represents a neat and pretty young housemaid; she is offering up her petitions to the household gods who preside over cleanliness and good management. The desires of her heart are that a handsome fellow-servant may gain the humble worshipper and lead her into the frying-pan of matrimony. Let these but be her wages and she will submit cheerfully to her labours, nor ever breathe a sigh for greater liberty than to make her bed in peace and sleep contented.

July 30, 1801. The Apothecary's Prayer is appropriately offered to Esculapius, and is truly professional in spirit, since the aspirations of the little knight of the pestle are turned to the increase of fevers, catarrhs, gout, cramp, agues, and infirmities in general, for the special advantage of his slack professional prospects and the good of his generous ally the undertaker, who is in need of the apothecary's friendly co-operation, the demand for funerals having fallen off of late.

July 30, 1801. The Quack Doctor's Prayer is addressed, over a chest of patent quack medicines, to the illustrious shade of the renowned Doctor Rock. The empiric candidly confesses that his miraculous Cure-all-able Vegetable Drops, Never Infailibus Infallibus, supposed to issue from the laboratory of Esculapius himself, are nothing more than a decoction of beetroot, lump-sugar, spring-water, cognac brandy, and Hollands gin. The Quack Doctor prays that his carriages and equipages, his town and country residences, and all other good things of life, may be continued to reward his impudent charlatanism.

August 1, 1801. The Stockjobber's Prayer is prayed by the pious speculator, bank-book in hand, and is offered to the adorable and ancient Lady of Threadneedle Street. The wishes of the stockjobber refer to 'rises in the Funds' and 'undertakings in the Alley,' and conclude with a pious hope that he may never have the misfortune to 'waddle out a poor and neglected lame duck.'

August 1, 1801. The Female Gambler's Prayer commences with an invocation: 'Enchanting Pharaoh, thee I address with a heart teeming with gratitude for all the favours showered on thy ardent worshipper. Thy name, O mighty Pharaoh, is derived from the Hebrew, literally to make bare, and well thou knowest I delight to make bare, even to the last feather, the pigeon that flies to my midnight orgies.' The petition concludes with an entreaty that the Right Honourable Fraternity of Gamblers may be protected from the strictures of Lord Kenyon (who had commenced a crusade against fashionable gamblers, and had especially made attacks on those ladies of rank who encouraged tables in their houses), and their persons preserved from all the dire horrors of the stocks and pillory, with which this inflexible judge had threatened the incorrigible, if any person could be found to bring them within his jurisdiction.

August 10, 1801. The Actress's Prayer.—'Hear me, Dramatic Sisters, gay Thalia and sublime Melpomene; be guardians to your supplicant and aid her in her profession.... I pray thee, should I ever reach the boards of a London theatre, may my terms be as enormous as my abilities are conspicuous, and finally my labours be crowned with the coronet of honour, and that I may become a convert to domestic happiness.'

August 10, 1801. The Jockey's Prayer is put up to Nimrod. The aspirations of the hero of the turf tend to a wife—'a pretty well-bred filly, one that would come easily to collar, prance to the Circus of Hymen, and run with her owner the generous race of mutual affection.'

September 5, 1801. The Cook's Prayer.—The fat mistress of the spit has gone down on her knees before the roaring fire, beside which are the preparations for dinner. Her prayer is addressed to all the gods and goddesses whose celestial appetites are not too refined to relish the good things of this world. She beseeches their influence to continue her a twelvemonth longer in the service of Alderman Gobble, and then, with the little perquisites she has hashed together, she may be able to enter on a certain eating-house in Pye Corner, which she has longed for these three years. She concludes by entreating that the bosom of John the Coachman may be moved to become her partner in the concern.

September 12, 1801. The Sailor's Prayer.—'O mighty Neptune! hear an honest British Tar; thou knowest I trouble not thy godship every day, and I therefore pray thee to grant my prayer, for I love not long palavering and that there, d'ye see ... Worthy Master Neptune! send us a good prize, I beseech thee, and be not sparing in brandy and tobacco. Give us also a few chests of the Don's dollars, for Mounseer hasn't got none—no more than there is in your three-pronged boat-hook.'

September 20, 1801. The Publican's Prayer.—'Holy Silenus, father of all-inspiring Bacchus, continue, I beseech you, the custom of the original Golden Lion, and inspire me, its landlord, with becoming gratitude for all thy favours. Grant me success, I pray thee, with the rich widow of the adjoining street, whom thou knowest I adore; send that she may frequently look into the bar, till in time she becomes its fixed ornament. Grant but this addition to my stock in trade, and I have nothing to ask thee for but plenty of smuggled spirits and protection from the exciseman.'

September 20, 1801. Poll of Portsmouth's Prayer is addressed to Thetis. The supplications of this damsel, who is gaily attired in bright colours, and ornamented with numerous coral necklaces, bracelets, watches, seals, lockets, and trinkets, gifts from tars at sea, are directed to prayers for the safe and speedy return of her numerous generous admirers, then on board their ships.

1801. The Lottery Office Keeper's Prayer.—This invocation is offered by a prosperous-looking individual to Dame Fortune, whose portrait forms the signboard of his establishment, 'Peter Puff's Lucky Lottery Office.' He prays the blindfold goddess to grant insurance to his schemes, so that they may turn up prizes, and prevent his looking blank when bowing at the altar of his divinity. 'And lastly, I pray thee, with the indulgent aid of mighty superiferous Somnus, to cause all old women and children to dream incessantly on the advantages gained by venturing in the lottery; so shall the nocturnal visions of old chairs and tables be converted into lucky numbers, and thy humble petitioner benefited thereby.'

March 18, 1801. The Union Head-dress. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—A pair of busts, the fancy portraits of two highly-caricatured individuals, whose faces wear a most dejected expression, from whose respective foreheads branch a pair of well-defined horns.—'This style of decoration represents "The Union Head-dress," successively worn by many respectable citizens since the days of Noah; for its simplicity and elegance it cannot be too much admired. Respectfully dedicated to the fashion-mongers of 1801.' The satire of this print, which appears somewhat coarse and uncalled-for, is levelled at the fashion, which raged contemporaneously with its publication, for embodying in the reigning mode any event which happened to be stirring, no matter its frivolity or gravity, as the case might be. The accomplishment of the union between England and Ireland was seized by the milliners and fashion-mongers as the excuse for a thousand extravagances in head-dresses, combining supposititious emblems of the twin kingdoms with allusions to their happy conjunction.

April 2, 1801. No. 1, Taste. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

April 2, 1801. No. 2, Fashion. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

April 2, 1801. No. 3, Elegance. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

April 2, 1801. No. 4, Fancy. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

May 1, 1801. Boot-Polishing. G. M. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

July 12, 1801. Light Summer Hat and Fashionable Walking-stick. Published by R. Ackermann.

July 20, 1801. The Toper's Mistake. G. M. Woodward inv. Published by R. Ackermann.

1801. Rag Fair. Published by R. Ackermann.

September, 1801. An Old Member on his way to the House of Commons. T. Rowlandson del. Published by R. Ackermann.—The old Member and his dog are passing, on their way to the Houses of Parliament, through Lisle Street, evidently a spot of some temptation to the personage who forms the subject of the caricature, an eccentric celebrity, without doubt, at the time of the publication. The establishment of Mrs. Woods is evidently the rock a-head which threatens the venerable senator; Mrs. Woods, the lady abbess, is, with one of her decoying nymphs, standing at the door of her mansion; two more syrens are beckoning the passer-by from a window, and various houris appear above, all issuing their invitations to the M.P., an individual of consideration. The amorous character of the vicinity is indicated by the circumstances surrounding a coach, which is driving by. The coachman has a pretty girl on his box, and while he is publicly saluting her cheek, his fare, an officer, is kissing a fair companion in the vehicle, and two street Arabs, a boy and a girl, are stealing a ride on the back, and they too are indulging in a loving embrace, disregarding the insecurity of their situation.

1801. Four subjects on a sheet.—Here's your potatoes, four full pounds for two pence! Light, your Honour, Coach unhired. Buy my roses, dainty sweet briar! Pray remember the blind. Designed and executed by T. Rowlandson. Republished 1811.

September 12, 1801. A Sailor Mistaken. G. M. Woodward. Published by R. Ackermann.

December 20, 1801. Gig-hauling, or Gentlemanly Amusement for the Nineteenth Century. G. M. Woodward inv. Published by R. Ackermann.

1802.

February 25, 1802. Friendly Accommodation. Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

March 1, 1802. The Monstrous Craws, or a New-Discovered Animal. Published by R. Ackermann.

May 1, 1802. A Man of Fashion's Journal.—Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. 'Queer dreams, owing to Sir Richard's claret, always drink too much of it—rose at one—dressed by half-past three—took an hour's ride—a good horse, my last purchase, remember to sell him again—nothing like variety—dined at six with Sir Richard—said several good things—forgot 'em all—in high spirits—quizzed a parson—drank three bottles and loung'd to the theatre—not quite clear about the play—comedy or tragedy—forget which—saw the last act—Kemble toll-loll—not quite certain whether it was Kemble or not—Mrs. Siddons monstrous fine—got into a hack—set down in St. James's Street—dipp'd a little with the boys at hazard—confounded bad luck—lost all my money.'

May 1, 1802. A Woman of Fashion's Journal.—Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. 'Dreamt of the Captain—certainly a fine man—counted my card money—lost considerably—never play again with the Dowager—breakfasted at two ... dined at seven at Lady Rackett's—the Captain there—more than usually agreeable—went to the Opera—the Captain in the party—house prodigiously crowded—my ci-devant husband in the opposite box—rather mal à propos—but no matter—telles choses sont—looked into Lady Squander's roût—positively a mob—sat down to cards—in great luck—won a cool hundred of my Lord Lackwit, and fifty of the Baron—returned home at five in the morning—indulged in half-an-hour's reflection—resolved on reformation, and erased my name from the Pic-Nic Society.'

May 20, 1802. The Sailor's Journal.—Two members of the fleet, in the famous days of prize-money, are seated at table with a punch-bowl between them. One of them is smoking old Virginia, while his friend is favouring him with certain extracts from his diary, of which the following must serve as a sample: 'Entered the port of London. Steered to Nan's lodgings and unshipped my cargo; Nan admired the shiners—so did the landlord—gave 'em a handful a-piece—emptied a bottle of the right sort with the landlord to the health of his honour Lord Nelson—All three set sail for the play—got a berth in a cabin on the larboard side—wanted to smoke a pipe, but the boatswain wouldn't let me—remember to rig out Nan like the fine folks in the cabins right a-head. Saw Tom Junk aloft in the corner of the upper deck—hailed him—the signal returned. Some of the land-lubbers in the cockpit began to laugh—tipped 'em a little foremast lingo till they sheered off—emptied the grog bottle—fell fast asleep—dreamt of the battle off Camperdown—my landlord told me the play was over—glad of it—crowded sail for a hackney coach—got on board—squally weather—rather inclined to be sea-sick—gave the pilot a two-pound note, and told him not to mind the change. In the morning looked over my rhino—a great deal of it, to be sure—but I hope, with the help of a few friends, to spend every shilling in a little time, to the honour and glory of old England.'

May 28, 1802. Special Pleaders in the Court of Requests, a Litigation between Snip, a tailor, and Galen Glauber, a quack. Published by T. Williamson, 20 Strand.—A justice, with his legal library at hand (Game Laws, Penal Laws, Vagrant Act, Blackstone, &c.) for ready reference, is sitting to investigate a delicate case. A working tailor, who is snapping his shears at his adversary, in the excitement of the cause, and dressed as he has left his shop-board, is the plaintiff; the defendant has brought a pair of nether garments into court as evidence; he is resolutely endeavouring to support his case, while the small clothes in question are held out at the end of his cane for the investigation of the obviously reluctant judge, who does not appear to relish the too familiar vicinity of such unusual testimony.

June 15, 1802. A Parish Officer's Journal. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.—'Rose early and reflected on the dignity of my office—put on my wig to create awe and reverence in my family. Betty, my wife's new maid, not sufficiently struck by my appearance—a great deal too free—remember to give her warning—dined with the gentlemen at the Cat and Bagpipes—returned home soon in order to prepare for the evening's entertainment—had half-an-hour's bickering with my wife to keep up my consequence—and set out to meet my parish friends at the George, where we made a most excellent supper, on the profits of a child, and adjusted several weighty parochial concerns while partaking of the good things the landlord prepared for us—which consisted of rumps of beef, legs of mutton, suet puddings, fat geese, onions, and other light delicate articles—spent the evening very convivially, and made up another party for the day ensuing.'

June 10, 1802. How to Pluck a Goose. Etched by T. Rowlandson. Published by T. Williamson, 20 Strand.

June 25, 1802. La Fille mal gardé, or Jack in the Box. Published by T. Williamson, 20 Strand.—An old miser, with a portentous bunch of keys, has, in imagination only, secured his treasure, and he is further prepared to insure the safety of a fair charge by the same precaution of locking her in a well-defended chamber; the windows are heavily cross-barred, a blunderbuss and a rattle hang ready to hand, as precautions against intruders; but no danger threatens from without, the risk is nearer within; the miser's strong box has evidently changed its contents, since the rising lid discloses a smart young officer, who only requires the door to be fastened before he appears on the scene. The intriguing damsel, with averted head and her finger on her lips, is inculcating caution to the impatient captive.

July 1, 1802. Comfort in the Gout. (See 1785.) Republished by S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.

A LADY IN LIMBO, OR JEW BAIL REJECTED.

July 1, 1802. A Lady in Limbo, or Jew Bail Rejected. Published by S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.—A 'fine lady,' presumably an Anonyma of the period, finds herself in the fastness of a spunging house; she is made as welcome as circumstances will permit; a bottle of wine, the refreshment customary, is ordered, and the stern hearts of the sheriff's men are appealed to, while bail is sent for. It was a well-known practice at the beginning of the century, and earlier, to pay some obscure individual a trifling fee to become security on emergencies. Similar fictitious householders were always in attendance, and producible from the bar-rooms in the neighbourhood. In the present case a professional limb, of the Hebrew persuasion, is presented, decently made up for the occasion, to tender himself as bondsman for the lady's due appearance. It is evident, however, that a suspicious recognition is taking place; 'Harry Holdfast, Officer to the Four Counties,' or his deputy, does not, judging from his expression, seem to approve of the surety, and the Jew looks somewhat disconcerted under his inspection. The tears of the unfortunate captive, and the plausible reassurances—as to the respectability of the bail offered—of her chaperone, or duenna, are powerless to move the stoic breast of the experienced catchpole.

SLYBOOTS.

July 1, 1802. Slyboots. Published by S. W. Fores.—Slyboots and her cat are snuggled up by the fire, full of fun and friskiness; it is difficult to determine which looks the more mischievous of the pair. The exhortations of the preacher against the vanities of life, seem a trifle out of place here, or, at all events, his denunciations are not likely to produce any lasting impressions on such mercurial souls.

July 1, 1802. Intrusion on Study, or the Painter Disturbed. (See November 1785.) Republished by S. W. Fores.

July 1, 1802. Jockeyship. Published by S. W. Fores.

July 1, 1802. A Snip in a Rage. Published by Howitt, Panton Street, Haymarket.—An infuriated tailor has intruded his head and shoulders through the window of a frail fair's bedchamber, which he has reached by means of a ladder resting against the sill. The tailor, with his measure round his neck, is snipping his shears viciously above the head of a blushing maiden, who is covered with becoming confusion at her detection. The figure of a sturdy apprentice, seen disappearing in the rear, is sufficient to account for the contre-temps.

July 18, 1802. The Corporal in Good Quarters. Published by S. Howitt, Panton Street, Haymarket.—The marvellous influence of a red coat is the subject of the present sketch. Who can resist a dashing young soldier? The rustic beauty seems unequivocally smitten, and does not disguise the compromising fact that 'she dotes on the military.' The gallant son of Mars has been quartered on a prosperous farmer, who loves good cheer and brave company; the corporal is made welcome at bed and board, and the best in the house is prepared for his delectation. The venerable Hawbuck does not, however, seem pleased with the way his guest is carrying on with his buxom daughter, who is but too clearly smitten with the soldier's charming freedoms and his fine feathers; it is more than the parent bargained for, and even his dog is looking on with astonishment. But the scandalised parent and the young rustic lounging in the doorway, possibly an acknowledged sweetheart, are at a discount; their authority is likely to be set at defiance. As for the disconcerted swain whose dejected air and attitude express the profundity of his despair, he will probably do something desperate; in dudgeon at his blighted hopes he may very likely fall under the beguiling corporal's spell, offer himself as a recruit, be 'listed, and thenceforth forsake the plough-tail to follow the drum; a lasting text against one of the many evils consequent upon the maintenance of a standing army.

THE CORPORAL IN GOOD QUARTERS.

August 30, 1802. A Musical Family. Published by R. Ackermann.

September 12, 1802. Sorrow's Dry, or a Cure for the Heart-ache. Designed and published by Thomas Rowlandson. Republished 1811.

Were I not resolv'd against the yoke Of hapless marriage, never to be curst With second Love, so fatal was the first, To this one error I might yield again.—Dryden.

'Deborah Crossstich departed this life September 5, 1802, aged 62.' The body of the departed wife is laid out in her coffin, propped on trestles; on the plate let into the lid is engraved the above affecting inscription.

The lamenting spouse is far gone in a mixed state of grief, intoxication, and maudlin affection; he is making laudable efforts to resign himself to his recent bereavement, and is endeavouring to allay his sorrow, between the combined consolations of drink and the tender solicitudes of a favourite maid, who is exerting herself to administer comfort to her afflicted master, with her arm round his neck. The personal belongings of the deceased—her watch, little articles of jewellery, and plate—have evidently been ransacked by this affectionate pair of unaffected and disinterested mourners. An open book displays this familiar quotation, bearing somewhat disrespectful application to the case of the departed:—

A smoky house and a scolding wife Are the plagues of man's life. Oh, what pleasure will abound When my wife is laid in ground!

November 20, 1802. Doctor Convex and Lady Concave. Published by R. Ackermann.

1802. Hunt the Slipper, Pic-Nic Revels. Rowlandson del. and publisher.

Men are but children of a larger growth.—Shakespeare.

The chairs have been cleared out of a large apartment, and a party of full-grown men and women, some of whom have long passed maturity, are seated on the floor for a game at 'high jinks.' Bowls of punch, bottles of wine, and abundant refreshments of a strong nature, are put on the ground behind, within easy reach of the revellers, who are in the full enjoyment of a boisterous game of 'hunt the slipper.' The party is made up of an abundance of pretty rosy damsels, blooming, blushing, and smiling, such as Rowlandson with his etching needle or his reed pen could produce at will, and in every degree of perfection; corpulent matrons, dowagers, and gothic old maids are likewise plentiful. There is a gentleman to every lady, and the whole scene is a very animated one; while the fun is apparently appreciated by the performers, who are entering into the spirit of the diversion. The rules of the Society are framed on the wall:—

Ici on boit, on danse, on rit! Et quelquefois on joue aussi.

Two pictures, hung over the doors, are supposed to be indicative of the subject. Vive la Bagatelle! a party in pursuit of a balloon; and Sans Souci, sans six sous, a bacchanalian revel.

1802. Salt Water. Published at 24 Lower Sackville Street.—A bathing scene.

July 1, 1802. Who's Mistress now? Published by S. Howitt, Panton Street, Haymarket.—The scene is a kitchen; a servant is disporting herself before a large glass, in borrowed plumage, in the hat, feathers, and train of her mistress, and flourishing a fan; meanwhile a group of amused spectators are peeping in at the pantry door; while the cat, more practically inclined, has knocked over a dish, and is availing herself of the opportunity of making off with a fine fish prepared for dinner.

1802. Compendious Treatise on Modern Education. By J. B. Willyams, from Notes by the late Joel M'Cringer, D.D., 8 plates by T. Rowlandson, oblong 4to.

1802. Bardic Museum of Primitive British Literature, and other admirable rarities. Edward Jones, bard to the Prince of Wales. Coloured frontispiece by T. Rowlandson.

1803.

February 1, 1803. Signiora Squallina.

February 1, 1803. Sweet Lullaby.

February 1, 1803. Queer Fish.

February 1, 1803. Recruits. (See 1811.)

March 1, 1803. A Catamaran, or an Old Maid's Nursery. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street.

March 1, 1803. Richmond Hill, after H. Bunbury. Published by R. Ackermann.

March 1, 1803. Billiards, after H. Bunbury. Published by R. Ackermann.

April 1, 1803. The Road to Ruin. Published by S. W. Fores.

April 6, 1803. A Diver. T. Rowlandson invt., 1803. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The figure introduced under this title is perhaps as droll as any which Rowlandson has drawn. The scene represents the interior of a Bagnio, 'Hot and Cold Baths, cupping, sweating, &c., &c.' From the picture it would seem that the bath-attendants of the period, who administered the rough towellings and flesh brushings, which are indicated in the plate, were not of the sex one generally expects to find discharging these functions in our own day. In the case of The Diver no very glaring impropriety is suggested—the individual in question is like a ball of flesh; the image, on an exaggerated scale, of the Chinese joss-figures, and literally perfectly spherical; his quaint image is reflected in the water as he plunges forward in a sort of cricket-ball bound; a print of Narcissus gazing on his form in the fountain, suspended on the wall, suggests a sufficiently striking contrast.

April 12, 1803. Ducking a Scold.

May 1, 1803. John Bull Listening to the Quarrels of State Affairs. (Treaty of Amiens.) Published by R. Ackermann.—John Bull, with his hair standing on end, is listening, stooping, with his hands on his knees—'I declare my very wig stands on end with curiosity. What can they be quarrelling about? Oh that I could be let into the secret! If I ax our gentleman concerning it, 'tis ten to one if he tells me the right story. Buonaparte, with his cocked hat on, and his great sword by his side, is insisting on his arguments, 'And so—if you do so—I do so!' 'Jurisprudist,' a gentleman of the black robe (possibly meant for the Chancellor), appears very uncomfortable at the Corsican's decided attitude; he is crying in consternation, 'Oh!'

June 21, 1803. A Snug Cabin, or Port Admiral. (See June 21, 1808.)

July 1, 1803. A Stage Coach.

July 10, 1803. Flags of Truth and Lies. Published by R. Ackermann.—John Bull, as an honest Jack Tar, is holding out the Union Jack, and pointing to his inscription in reply to the message of intimidation set forth on the tricolour, held out by a huge-booted, long-queued Frenchman, a composite being between a soldier and postilion:—'Citizen First Consul Buonaparte presents compliments and thanks to the Ladies and Gentlemen of Great Britain, who have honoured him with their visits at Paris, and intends himself the pleasure of returning it in person as soon as his arrangements for that purpose can be completed.' 'Mon grand Maître, bid a you read dat, Monsieur.' John Bull replies: 'Um, let your Grand Master read that, Mounseer':—'John Bull does not rightly understand the Chief Consul's lingo, but supposes he means something about invasion; therefore the said John Bull deems it necessary to observe that if his consular Highness dares attempt to invade any ladies or gentlemen on his coast, he'll be damned if he don't sink him!'

1804.

January 1, 1804. Diana in the Straw, or a Treat for Quornites. Published by S. W. Fores.

January 2, 1804. A French Ordinary. (Originally published in 1801.) S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.—The attractions of a cheap French table d'hôte are ludicrously set forth; while the ravenous diners are represented making the best use of their opportunities within the salle à manger, the delicate character of the attendance and the culinary department are slyly hinted. We are admitted to the secrets of la cuisine Française, as they have seemingly been revealed to the caricaturist. The slovenly old cook is emptying the morsels left from the plates of the customers, into the capacious pot-au-feu, to reappear dished up for succeeding convives. A lean cat is seated in the frying pan, probably in course of fattening for the spit; as to the larder, the main provisions consist of dead cats and frogs; it was an accepted axiom that all the Jean Crapauds, as our Gallic neighbours were playfully christened by John Bull, lived more or less on frogs. Rowlandson, as we have shown, had French relatives, and had studied in Paris and spoke the language with fluency; while those travellers who were familiar with native habits, from travelling abroad, stoutly maintained that such were the staples of the national food, being convinced of the truth of the formula, as asserted by the waggish Peter Pindar—'I've liv'd among them and have eat their frogs!'

A FRENCH ORDINARY.

June 8, 1804. Light Volunteers on a March. Published by R. Ackermann.

June 8, 1804. Light Infantry Volunteers on a March. Published by Ackermann.

July 31, 1804. The Imperial Coronation. Published by R. Ackermann.—The platform which has been erected for this celebration is more suggestive of an execution than a coronation; a body of the old Guards, in their bear-skin caps, surround the raised space. The Pope is present in full canonicals, to perform the ceremony in person. A gallows has been considerately provided, in order to lower the imperial crown on to the brows of the future wearer more conveniently. On the gallows is painted, 'Patrick Death, Gibbet-maker to his Imperial Majesty the Emperor of all the Gulls.' The Pope, who holds the string, which works over a pulley, and suspends the Crown, is crying somewhat irreverently: 'In a little while you shall see him, and in a little while you shall not see him.' The weight of the diadem is too much for the wearer and his new throne, the planks of the platform are broken through, and the future emperor is sinking beneath, while calling to his confederate Talleyrand, 'My dear Talleyrand, save me! my throne is giving way. I am afraid the foundation is rotten, and wants a cursed deal of mending!' His prime minister is much concerned, 'Ah, master, the crown is too heavy for you!'

Another pillar of the Church is pointing out that the Corsican has not acted with his usual cunning, 'You forgot your old Uncle, the new bishop—if you had made me Pope I should have let the crown down easier!' The ceremony is parodied in the background, monkeys taking the place of the actual performers, only in this case the imperial ape is seated in state, with sceptre and orb, in greater security.

1804. Theatrical Leap-frog. Published by Ackermann, Strand.—The young Roscius, as an infant prodigy, is flying over the back of Kemble, both the performers being dressed in the habit then customary for Hamlet—'Alas!' cries Kemble, 'is it come to this? Ah, woe is me! seeing what I have seen, seeing what I see! O Roscius!'

December, 1804. Melpomene in the Dumps, or Child's Play defended by Theatrical Monarchs. Published by Ackermann, Strand.—Mrs. Siddons in tragic swathings, one arm resting on a table, her other hand extended in an interlocutory attitude, while her foot is resting on a stool; on the table are books—Salary Benefits, The Rights of Woman, and The Duty of Man. On the wall is hung Bunbury's Propagation of a Lie. John Philip Kemble is resting his hand on her shoulder, and another gentleman, hat in hand, is pointing with his finger to a shorter figure, probably intended for the person of Colonel Topham, Editor of The World, 'More Soldier than Scholar!'

The Debate or Argument.

Melpomene. And pray, Mr. Monarch, how long am I to be confined to this box fever, or nervous rheumatism in my loins? A pretty business you have made of this season; what between your Blind Bargain and Infant Roscius, you think to send me to the ground; but let me caution you, that 'if once I do but stir or lift this arm, the best of you shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know how this foul rout began, who set it on, and he that is approved in the offence, though he hath twinned with me, both at a birth shall lose me.'

First Monarch. [Probably intended to designate Sheridan.] Why really, Madam, all I can say in my defence or that of my Infant is this, that if John Bull chooses to feed on slink calf, instead of substantial roast beef, yet consents to pay for the roast, it is not for me to complain; but, Madam, should there be a fault laid at my charge, let me tell you it is not entirely mine; your brother here, beside me, has had his share in it, and between friends, I must observe, that you have had your day; and if a good salary during this Infant fever and frigid weather cannot encourage you to wear flannel, gird up your loins, and rest contented on your arm (I mean arms). I will be bound to say, you are not the woman I took you for; and rather than be subject to such complaints while I reign 'King of shreds and patches,' I would forego the advantages of government, and 'live on scraps at proud men's surly doors.'

Second Monarch. [John Philip Kemble, otherwise familiarly designated Black Jack.] Sister, be of comfort, our friend speaks home; you may relish him more in the soldier than the scholar, but though his oratory is bad, his argumentum argentum is good; his voice like mine is husky; but his silver tones are delightful. It is true we have both had our day; 'our May of life is gone; 'tis fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf, and that which should accompany old age' we have got. 'The world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.' Public taste is similar, it is now in second childishness; and when mere oblivion takes place, then you shall make a sally, and should the Town require a filip,[4] I will be at your elbow.

December 14, 1804. The Death of Madame République.—The moribund République is stretched on her death-bed, the tricolour cockade is worn on the side of her nightcap; by the side are bottles of Purging Mixture and Laudanum. Vive la Liberté and Vive la République are put out of sight; the Abbé Sièyes, as doctor, is holding the new Emperor, an infant in long clothes, the crown is on his head, a sceptre and orb are in either hand. John Bull, spectacles on nose, and with his hand in his waistcoat pocket, has stepped in; he is much astonished at the change of affairs: 'Pray Mr. Abbé Sièyes, what was the cause of the poor Lady's death? She seemed at one time in a tolerable thriving way.' 'She died in childbed, Mr. Bull, after giving birth to this little Emperor!'

1804. A New French Phantasmagoria. (The date 1805 in one corner.)—Napoleon Buonaparte, with the Imperial crown, sceptre, orb, and robes of state, is holding out his hand, with impertinent condescension, crying, 'What! my old friend, Mr. Bull, don't you know me?' John Bull is dressed in sailor fashion, as the 'champion of the seas;' there is an air of satirical quizzing about his features, and, in order that he may be able to distinguish his transmogrified acquaintance, he has mounted a pair of huge magnifiers, 'Bless me, what comes here, it's time to put on my large spectacles, and tuck up my trousers! Why, surely, it can't be?—it is Boney too, for all that; why, what game be'est thee at now? Acting a play mayhap? What hast thee got on thy head there? Always at some new freak or other.'

1804. A Compendious Treatise of Modern Education, in which the following interesting subjects are liberally discussed: The Nursery, Private Schools, Public Schools, Universities, Gallantry, Duelling, Gaming, and Suicide; to which are added coloured designs, both characteristic and illustrative. By Joel M'Cringer, D.D., F.R.S., folio.

Letters from the hand of the caricaturist are scarce, and however familiar collectors may be with Rowlandson's touch, and even his caligraphy, on his numberless drawings in Indian ink, the productions of his famous reed-pen, it is very seldom that samples of his familiar correspondence are to be met with. We print one example, not as an instance of his brilliancy in composition, or as representing any valuable literary disclosure, but simply as illustrating that the artist's circumstances were not too flourishing at the period under consideration.

The original also contains a sketch, and is exhibited to the public in one of the cases of the British Museum (Manuscript Department), among a collection of interesting autographs of eminent men.

29,300 G. Ad¹. MSS.Purchased 6 June, 1871.

Letter to James Heath. Engraver.
Upper Charlotte Street Fitzroy Square.

This note is written in Indian ink, of the consistency mixed by the Caricaturist for his outlines.

No. 1 James Street, Adelphi.
March 1st, 1804.

Friend Heath.

'Tis with sorrow I relate that my own finances and the little sway I have with the long-pursed gentry—obliges me to retire before the plays are ended. I hope you will not say, as they do at Drury (No money returned after the curtain is drawn up).

The Bill sent in says Nine Numbers, Eight only have been received, the Ninth mentioned in your letter as being delivered November the First, since my return to Town, has, through some mistake, never come to hand. I also possess a receipt from you for £2. 2. 0, and as I hope you call me a tradesman and poor, you will make out a fresh Bill, and that we shall verify the old proverb of Short Reckonings make Long Friends.

I remain sincerely yours,

Tho^s Rowlandson.

1805.

February 3, 1805. Quarterly Duns, or Clamorous Tax-gatherers. Published by Howitt, 73 Wardour Street, Soho.—Taxation in 1805 raised a great deal of bad feeling; the satirists treated the increased imposts, and the methods of collecting them, from their point of view, and made the public smile at ills to which perforce they were compelled to submit. The house of a quack practitioner in 'Rotten Row,' one Dr. Humbug, at the sign of the Golden Pestle of Hippocrates, who advertises 'advice gratis' on his front door, is the scene of a general muster of the inquisitors and collectors of taxes. Window Tax, Income, Property, House, Servants, Horses, Dogs, &c., are among the requisitions to be levied. The Budget opened, or how to raise the wind for the year 1805 explains these visitations. The quack and his wife are declining to admit their duns; they are surveying the besieging party from an upper window, and the goodwill of their house is, according to a placard, to be disposed of. The prospect of 'Houses to Let' and of windows 'Blocked up' shows that taxation was pressing with over-severity, and had, in reality, been carried beyond a joke.

February 25, 1805. The Famous Coal Heaver, Black Charley, looking into the Mouth of the Wonderful Coal Pit. Published by Ackermann. Described by an English Yeoman. (Here follows a long description turning on 'the fundamental deficiency.')—Fox, in blue and buff, on his hands and knees, is staring with a look of astonishment into the mouth of a large head of Pitt, beside which flourishes a Scotch thistle (for Dundas), and around is a thicket of scrubs, which are interlaced over a bench, with T.B. (Treasury Bench) cut on it.

April 23, 1805. The Modern Hercules cleansing the Augean Stable.—'Augeas, a king of Elis, had a stable which was not cleansed for thirty years, yet Hercules cleansed it in one day.'—Heathen Mythology. The modern Hercules, wrapped round with his lion's skin, is making use of a monster measure, Whitbread's Entire, with the contents of which he is freely deluging the St. Stephen's stables. The abbot of St. Stephen's, with mitre and crozier, ensconced in his niche, is in consternation at the work going on. The horses are all standing with their heads turned to their stalls, and their hoofs to the purifier. Dundas (Lord Melville) is kicking with energy, crying 'What the Deel is the man aboot?' Wilberforce's 'Broom for the suppression of Vice' is between his legs, and before him is a huge private chest for stray provender, with money bags outside. Trotter stands next; he cries, 'Attack the Gallopers! I am only a poor Trotter.' Pitt, a very bony steed, is crying, 'I am afraid we shall all be drenched in turn;' and a crowd of others are thrown into confusion at their prospects, saying, 'Who could have expected this?' Against the wall are stalls stored with money-bags from end to end: 'Navy Stall,' 'Army Stall,' 'Treasury Stall,' &c.

April 23, 1805. The Fifth Clause, or Effect of Example. Published by T. Rowlandson.

April 28, 1805. A Scotch Sarcophagus. Published by T. Rowlandson, Adelphi.—The Sarcophagus is of handsome design; two cherubims, in Scotch bonnets, surmount the lid; two devils, evidently much shocked, appear on the sides. Two Highlanders, in full kilt and tartan dresses, are standing as mourners, one is leaning weeping with his elbow on the urn, the other is seeking comfort in his snuff mull.

Stop, Traveller, and read.

Within this
Sarcophagus,
composed of Scotch pebbles,
are deposited the political remains of

JOHNNY MAC-CREE

and his faithful servant

JOHN TROTT.

In respect to the former, suffice it to say that he was a strenuous friend to all Reports that reverberated to his advantage, whether proceeding from a first rate or a Catamaran Explosion.

At length a Tenth Report, aided by an obstruction in the Thorax from the fifth clause, finished his Political Career.

Mourn, Scotsmen, Mourn! For though he was a swift galloper on the high road of Peculation, yet his friend John, who lies beside him, was only his inferior in being but a simple Trotter, in the grand and Sublime scale marked out by his Worthy Preceptor.

They took their departure on Monday, April 8, 1805.

Peace to their Political Manes!

May 15, 1805. John Bull's Turnpike Gate.—On a hill is an abbey church, lighted up with the glory of 'King, Church, and Constitution.' John Bull, standing before his turnpike, is guarding the pathway; on a ledge beside the post is placed a formidable work, the Test Oath. The Pope, with mitre, crozier, and hood, is mounted on his pontifical ass. 'Mr. Bull,' he says, 'I have been to Paris and seen all the fine sights there. I now want to have a peep at that little church on the hill, therefore let me pass the turnpike.' J. B. replies: 'If you want to go through pay the toll; what the devil do you think I keep a turnpike gate for?'

A crowd of dissenters, quakers, &c., in the Pope's rear, are anxious to enjoy the opportunity: 'Though I boast not gaudy trappings,' says a quaker, 'nor am I mounted on ass-back, yet if he goeth through, verily I should like to go through also!' 'Verily so should I!' 'We should all like to go through!'

May 25, 1805. A Sailor's Will. Woodward inv., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

July 8, 1805. The Scotch Ostrich seeking Cover.—'In the natural history of the ostrich it has been observed that when the bird is closely pursued he runs his head and neck into a hole, leaving his hinder parts exposed; concluding no doubt that, as he sees no one, no one sees him!'

Dundas has thrust his head through a hole in the wall labelled Parliamentary Recess, he cries, 'Ah! ah! nae one sees me now!' John Bull with his blunderbuss, and his brother Pat by his side, are watching the Scotchman's manœuvre. 'Be asy, brother Pat, I see him as plain as ever. I have plenty of ammunition left, but I shan't fire just at present.' This print is founded on the inquiries into Lord Melville's conduct when Treasurer of the Navy.

July 14, 1805. Recovery of a Dormant Title, or a Breeches-Maker become a Lord. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. Republished July 14, 1812.—The features of a sudden rise in life form humorous materials in the hands of the caricaturist. The lately created nobleman, a coarse and common clothier, is swaggering in all his new finery, to give his past associates a taste of his new-found honours. His showy court dress is assumed with awkward pretension; he wears a ribbon and star and a dress sword; none of these decorations harmonise with the wearer, who is so evidently out of place in his fine feathers, that the journeymen tailors and cobblers, his neighbours and recent comrades, are jeering at his burlesque dignity; his lady dressed in unbecoming finery, and carrying a large plume of feathers on her head, looks no less 'out of character' than does her tailoring spouse. The shop, over which appears, Stitchall, Whitechapel, Breeches cleaned and repaired, once the pride of the pair, is now closed. A placard states: 'The goodwill of this shop to be sold, removed to Grosvenor Square;' while an old Jewess, part of the establishment, probably the ancestress of one of the pair, is trying her hardest, on the top of some steps, to wipe out the offensive name of the ex-proprietor.

July 14, 1805. Antiquarians à la Grecque. Published by R. Ackermann.

October 1, 1805. The Departure from the Coast, or the end of the Farce of Invasion. Published by Ackermann.—On the heights of the English coast stands the British Lion, contemptuously pouring a broadside into the retreating invader; the British cruisers are sweeping the seas. The Emperor, seated on a donkey, is limping off, to the delight of some French monkeys. The national prototype's contributions, in the shape of a shower of shot, have capsized the iron crown of Milan. 'Bless me, what a shower! I shall be wet through before I reach the Rhine.' The Emperor and his steed are overloaded with sacks of Excuses for non-performance. The Boulogne Encampment and The Army of England fill his pockets, while files of soldiers are indicated above.

October 2, 1805. John Bull at the Opera. Published by T. Rowlandson.—It is a matter of no surprise to find Rowlandson, who, in spite of his acquaintance with the Continent, was as thoroughly confirmed a John Bull as his illustrious predecessor Hogarth, ridiculing the tastes of the fashionable public, who patronised and petted exotic artists, to the neglect of native talent. Like the rest of the caricaturists, he traded on the national spirit, and held up foreigners to contempt and ridicule; with a happy faculty for seizing their grotesque points, their loose ways of life, and their love of finery and display, which has not, we will venture to believe, been excelled in any day. It is natural the school-fellow, fellow-student at the Academy, and familiar intimate through life, of such a talented English performer as Bannister, should have resented the artificial taste which heaped wealth on comparatively obscure aliens, with whose art plain John Bull could have slight sympathy, while the most rarely gifted of his countrymen were left to struggle through life without a due acknowledgment, in a pecuniary sense, proportioned to the extent of their merits, as contrasted with the abilities of their foreign rivals, and the fabulous salaries they received. The designer has accordingly displayed the signor from a whimsical point of view; the face of the performer is suggestive of that of the good-looking youth, the leading figure in the eccentric humours of an Italian Family (1792); it was probably a portrait recognisable at the period. Certainly John Bull, in the artist's view, does not appear much at home at the Italian Opera; the spectators are divided between gigglers and gapers, and on the whole it is doubtful if their imported entertainer affords his audience the unequivocal enjoyment they would have been able to secure at the hands of 'honest Jack Bannister,' and native performers of his stamp.

JOHN BULL AT THE ITALIAN OPERA.

October 30, 1805. Raising the Wind.

November 13, 1805. Napoleon Buonaparte in a Fever, on Receiving the extraordinary Gazette of Nelson's Victory over the Combined Fleets. Published by Ackermann.—The Emperor, in his huge cocked hat, is seriously indisposed, after reading the extraordinary gazette: '19 sail of the line taken by Lord Nelson.' Beside the Corsican is a group of court physicians in consternation: 'My dear Doctors! those sacré Anglois have played the devil with my constitution; pray tell me what is the matter with me. I felt the first symptoms when I told General Mack I wanted ships, colonies, and commerce. Oh dear! oh dear! I shall want more ships now; this is a cursed sensation. Oh, I am very qualmish!' 'Be-gar,' cries the first physician, 'I have found it out. Your heart be in your breeches!' Another doctor is observing that 'the case is desperate;' another recommends 'letting blood;' while others have, after a consultation, arrived at the conclusion—'Irrevocable.'

A BOARDING SCHOOL.

1805. A Boarding School.—The droll scene our artist has imagined,—for it is to be hoped, in the interests of educational establishments and social decorum, that he was not in the situation to draw the incidents from actual observation,—is transpiring on the outside of a Young Ladies' Seminary, where maidens are 'boarded and educated,' and their minds trained. According to the notice-board, there seems no reason to question this being a 'finishing school' in the fullest acceptation of the expression. 'The young ideas' are shooting in a precocious fashion which is setting the restraint of the governesses at defiance. Certain well-favoured young house painters are inciting the mischievous hoydens to disregard the injunctions of their preceptresses. A daring scamp is stealing a kiss from a buxom belle, over the eaves of the adjoining house, and three terrible young flirts are exchanging pleasantries with a youth on a ladder, who is stopping the torrent of menace, poured forth by the mistress, by bedaubing his whitewash brush in the learned features of the infuriated old lady. It is evidently early morning, before the customary studies have commenced.

1805. Glowworms. (See July, 1812.)

1805. Muckworms.

1805. Illustrations to Tom Jones, or the History of a Foundling. Book 7, chap. 14.—'The clock had now struck twelve, and every one in the house were in their beds, except the sentinel who stood to guard Northerton, when Jones softly opening his door, issued forth in pursuit of his enemy, of whose place of confinement he had received a perfect description from the drawer. It is not easy to conceive a much more tremendous figure than he now exhibited. He had on, as we have said, a light coloured coat, covered with streams of blood. His face, which missed that very blood, as well as twenty ounces more drawn from him by the surgeon, was pallid. Round his head was a quantity of bandages, not unlike a turban. In the right hand he carried a sword, and in the left a candle. So that the bloody Banquo was not worthy to be compared to him. In fact, I believe a more dreadful apparition was never raised in a churchyard, nor in the imagination of any good people met in a winter evening over a Christmas fire in Somersetshire.

'When the sentinel first saw our hero approach, his hair began gently to lift up his grenadier cap, and in the same instant his knees fell to blows with each other. Presently his whole body was seized with worse than an ague fit. He then fired his piece, and fell flat on his face.

'Whether fear or courage was the occasion of his firing, or whether he took aim at the object of his terror, I cannot say. If he did, however, he had the good fortune to miss his man.

'Jones seeing the fellow fall, guessed the cause of his fright, at which he could not forbear smiling, not in the least reflecting on the danger from which he had just escaped. He then passed by the fellow, who still continued in the posture in which he fell.... The report of the firelock alarmed the whole house....

'Before Jones could reach the door of his chamber, the hall where the sentinel had been posted was half full of people, some in their shirts, and others not half dressed, all very earnestly inquiring of each other what was the matter.

'The soldier was now found lying in the same place and posture in which we just now left him. Several immediately applied themselves to raise him, and some concluded him dead; but they presently saw their mistake, for he not only struggled with those who laid their hands on him, but fell a roaring like a bull. In reality he imagined so many spirits or devils were handling him; for his imagination, being possessed with the horror of an apparition, converted every object he saw or felt into nothing but ghosts and spectres.

'At length he was overpowered by numbers, and got upon his legs; when candles being brought, and seeing two or three of his comrades present, he came a little to himself; but when they asked him what was the matter, he answered, "I am a dead man, that's all; I am a dead man; I can't recover it; I have seen him."'

'"What hast thou seen, Jack?" says one of the soldiers. "Why, I have seen the young volunteer that was killed yesterday."'

THE SENTINEL MISTAKES TOM JONES FOR AN APPARITION.

Illustrations to Fielding's Tom Jones (See 1791). 1791–93. Published by J. Siebbald, Edinburgh. 1805. Republished by Longman & Co., London.

Illustrations to Smollett's Peregrine Pickle. 1791–93. Published by J. Siebbald, Edinburgh. 1805. Republished by Longman & Co., London. Etched by Rowlandson.

Clearing a Wreck on the North Coast of Cornwall. Sketched in 1805. Rowlandson del.

View on Sir John Moreshead's Estate at Blisland near Bodmin, Cornwall. Rowlandson del.

View near Bridport, Dorsetshire. 1805.

Rouler Moor, Cornwall.

Coast of Cornwall, &c. (A series of views in Cornwall, Devon, Dorset, &c.)

1806.

THE GERMAN WALTZ.

'The Sorrows of Werther.' Letter X. The Waltz with Charlotte.—'We began; and at first amused ourselves with making every possible turn with our arms. How graceful and animated all her motions! When the waltz commenced, all the couples which were turning round at first jostled against each other. We very judiciously kept aloof till the awkward and clumsy had withdrawn; when we joined in there were but two couples left. I never in my life was so active; I was more than mortal. To fly with her like the wind, and lose sight of every other object! But I own to you I then determined, that the woman I loved, and to whom I had pretensions, should never do the waltz with any other man. You will understand this.'

April 3, 1806. An Evergreen.—An extravagantly elongated figure, treated so as to suggest a trimmed shrub, and coloured green. There is much in the execution of this folio strip to suggest the hand of Rowlandson. Published by Fores.

April 20, 1806. A Cake in Danger.

Careful observers, studious of the Town, Shun the misfortunes that disgrace the clown.—Gay's Trivia.

It is night, or rather early morning, and the watchman, staff in hand, leaning forward in his box, in a state of semi-consciousness, more asleep than awake, does not observe that under the shelter of his house a deed of spoliation is proceeding. A simple countryman has fallen into the clutches of two fair members of the 'Hundreds of Drury,' and, while they are tenderly embracing the yokel, the contents of his pockets are being transferred to their own keeping.

1806 (?). A Select Vestry.

1806 (?). A Country Club.

April 16, 1806. The Political Hydra. (Wigstead.) Originally published December 26, 1788. See description (1788). Reissued with fresh date.

April 18, 1806. Falstaff and his Followers Vindicating the Property Tax. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. Fox is travestied under the portly figure of Falstaff; Sheridan, Petty, and other Ministers do duty as his followers. The unwieldy knight is standing in the presence of John Bull, and pointing to a huge pack, 'Ten per cent, on John Bull's property,' which is to be fitted to the national back. 'Mercy on us, how you must be all changed in your way of thinking! When Billy proposed the same thing, one of you said it was a most flagrant instance of injustice and inequality; another that it was abominable in principle and in its operation, not only cruel but intolerable; and another went so far as to say that if I sanctioned it I was not a person for any honest man to be acquainted with. What have you to say for yourselves?'

Falstaff has a plausible explanation at the service of his employer: 'You cannot blame us, Master Bull, we did not make it, or steal it; it lay in our way, and we found it!'

May 1, 1806. A Maiden Aunt smelling Fire. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.

Old Maids are doomed to lead Apes in Hell.

An old Tabitha, who is appropriately surrounded by her feline friends, has been disturbed from her slumbers by various suspicious nocturnal sounds, and has appeared, candle in hand, and in a very incomplete toilette, to fathom the mystery, of the source of which she has evidently some shrewd suspicion; since she is hastening to the first floor to her niece's apartment. Above the balustrade stands the guilty damsel, who has had sufficient warning, as her lover, carrying his garments in his hand, for expedition, is making his way from the niece's room under the cover of an ambuscade; while the lady is leaning over the staircase railings, with an air of startled innocence assumed to carry off the contretemps.

May, 1806. Recruiting on a Broad-Bottom'd Principle. Published by T. Blacklock, 92 Royal Exchange.—Grenville, Fox, and their colleagues, are out on a recruiting expedition, to enlist volunteers for their new service. Lord Grenville, as the recruiting sergeant, is haranguing the bystanders; his followers are rather of the tatterdemalion order: they wear the red caps of Liberty, and the revolutionary cockades, they are out-at-elbows and shoeless. Sheridan is waving the colours inscribed 'God save the King! No Jacobins!' Fox is drummer, Lord Derby is fifer; 'Now my brave fellows, now is the time to make your fortunes and show your loyalty, all on a Broad-Bottom'd principle: we don't value candle-ends and cheese-parings, not we! All lives, and fortune-soldiers to a man. We'll make our enemies tremble; we are the boys to wind 'em; now is your time, my lads; the bed of Honour is a bed of Down.' A dog, the Member for Barkshire according to his collar, is bow-wowing the sergeant's address; one of the audience, with a paper, Bed of Roses (to which the ministerial condition had been likened by Lord Castlereagh), in his pocket, is half decided to join their standard: 'I don't like a bed of Down, I would rather it was a Bed of Roses: however I have a great mind to enter notwithstanding, there is nothing like having two strings to one's bow.'

George the Third is peeping through his spyglass; he is not very clear as to the actual motives of the party: 'What, what! my sergeant and drummer beating up for volunteers; that's right, that's right, get as many as you can!'

May 4, 1806. Daniel Lambert, the wonderful great Pumpkin of Little Britain. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The famous Leicester giant, or rather fat man, Daniel Lambert, was the object of fashionable curiosity at this date. The worthy and good-natured-looking monster's figure is set forth at full, and justice is done to his corpulence. A tailor and his journeyman are between them vainly trying to stretch their measuring tape round the colossal girth; a fairly conditioned man-cook has just brought in a noble rib of beef for the regalement of the giant. Three modishly dressed persons of quality, who have come to admire the huge proportions of Daniel Lambert, are contrasting their own meagre condition of genteel slimness with his excessive plumpness. A notice sets forth, 'Agricultural society for the improvement of fat cattle. Leicestershire Ram'; and a placard advertises, 'The powers of Roast Beef, or the Leicestershire Apollo, now in full bloom; no blemish whatever on any part of his body. Thirty-six years of age. Weighs upwards of 50 stone, 14 lbs. to the stone, or 700 lbs. Measures 3 yds. 4 inches round the body, and 1 yard 1 inch round the leg; is five feet eleven inches in height. Admission only one shilling. Laugh and grow fat.'[5]

May 31, 1806. A Diving Machine on a New Construction. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.—The unpopular increase of Taxation, levied under the Broad-bottom'd auspices, was severely dealt with by the satirists. In the present version, the Ministers are represented as the crew of a diving-barge, The Experiment. Fox is the diver, and a noble wreck, the 'Constitution cutter, John Bull commander,' has gone down to the bottom of the 'Ocean of Taxation.' Her commander is done for; amidst the spoils of the shipwreck, the Diver (Fox) is securing certain weighty additions to his treasury: pig-iron, Beer Tax, and heavy chests, '10 per cent.' are among the spoils. A rope is secured to the ponderous Property Tax; Fox is giving the word to 'Haul up;' Petty, Sheridan and others are hauling away at the ropes; their lighter is nearly filled with the precious wreckage they have been able to secure.

June 20, 1806. The Acquittal, or upsetting the Porter Pot. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.—Lord Melville and his counsel are exulting over the results of his acquittal by his peers of the charge of investing the public funds for his personal advantage, as far as the interest was concerned, a perquisite previously allowed to the Treasurer of the Navy. When Lord Melville, then Henry Dundas, filled the post of Treasurer to the Navy, he brought in an act for the better regulation of that office, making such employment of the funds in hand a misdemeanour; Whitbread, (at the head of the advanced Liberals, or 'Radical Reformers,' who began to make his party dreaded as formidable opponents of the old-fashioned Whig section, from which his supporters had receded), and Wilberforce, as the enemy of all corruptions, were the principal movers of Melville's impeachment, for the alleged breach of his own act.

The two Scots, Melville and Trotter, who are dressed in Highland garb, are embracing fraternally; at the same time, Melville is giving a sly backward kick to a huge pewter pot, bearing the face of the disconcerted mover of the charges. Whitbread's Entire Butt is knocked over, its contents Impeachments, High Crimes, Misdemeanours, and Peculation, are flowing away unheeded; 'What is life without a friend?' cries the ex-Minister on his acquittal; his counsel, Trotter, is assuring his relieved patron, 'I'll trot for you! I'll gallop for you all over the globe. O happy day for Scotland! and see how pleased John Bull looks—ah Johnny, Johnny, this is indeed a glorious triumph.' But Mr. Bull declines to be soft-sawdered: his face is wearing anything but a satisfied expression; he significantly keeps his hands in his pockets, and is grumbling, 'I say nothing,' as if he could say a great deal if he were disposed to express his honest opinion of the entire transaction.

July 21, 1806. Experiments at Dover, or Master Charleys Magic Lantern. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.—The repeated delays to the preliminaries for peace, and the various manœuvres of Buonaparte's government, which protracted the issue of Fox's policy, led to a feeling out-of-doors that the Minister was not dealing straightforwardly with the public; that dissimulation was thrown into their eyes like dust; and that the Whig chief was deluding his followers for some reasons of his own; meanwhile the Corsican Emperor was carrying forward plans for fresh aggressions unchecked.

Fox, in the print, has settled himself comfortably at Dover; with a magic lantern to work his delusions, he is throwing painted images across the Channel, which are reflected on the cliffs of Calais. The figure of Napoleon is seen sounding a news-horn, announcing 'Preliminaries of Peace'; Fox's slide contains other views, which have to follow, for the further perplexity of the honest spectator: 'More despatches,' 'Messenger to Paris,' 'Messenger from Boulogne,' &c. The Showman is trying to reassure his friend, 'There, Master Bull, what do you think of that? I told you I would surprise you—"Preliminaries of Peace," 'Huzza!' John Bull, who is standing unconvinced behind Fox's chair, replies: 'Yes, yes, it be all very foine, if it be true. But I can't forget that d——d Omnium last week; they be always one way or other in contradictions! I will tell thee what, Charley, since thee hast become a great man, I think in my heart thee beest always conjuring.'

June, 1806. Butterfly Hunting. Published by Wm. Holland, 11 Cockspur Street.—A collision between the pursuits of rival enthusiasts is pictured under the title of 'Butterfly Hunting.' Nothing can stop the fervour of the butterfly collectors in their chase of the sportive prey, wantonly flitting all over the flower-beds, and leading the excited entomologists a pretty dance, carrying destruction to the parterres, and ruination to the tulips, of which the proprietor of the house and grounds is, it appears, a passionate fancier. The havoc, which is spreading over the beds of his favourites, is reducing him to frenzy; as he is awakened from his rest, and surveys from his bedroom-window the field of action, the only wonder is, if he has a loaded gun ready at hand, that he is not tempted to salute the reckless spoilers with a volley.

BUTTERFLY-HUNTING.

1806. A Prize Fight.

1806 (?). Anything will do for an Officer.—The caricature of a pigmy and misshapen sample of humanity, dressed as an officer, with an enormous cocked hat, worn on one side of his battered and lined old face; a long pigtail projects over his high shoulders; he swaggers with one hand on his hip, and the other on the head of a tasseled cane, which is nearly as tall as the hero himself; his shrunken spindle legs are thrust into huge boots, and his tremendous sword, which is longer than the wearer, is trailing on the ground. The argument is not complimentary to commanders in general: 'Some school-boys, who were playing at soldiers, found one of their number so ill-made and so undersized that he would have disfigured the whole body if put into the ranks. "What shall we do with him?" asked one, "Do with him?" says another, "why make an officer of him!"'

A PRIZE FIGHT.

1806. View of the Interior of Simon Ward, alias St. Brewer's Church, Cornwall.—A quaint delineation of a church-interior during service; the pastor, who is somewhat of the Dr. Syntax type, is holding forth. There is a squire's pew, a rosy, sleepy clerk, a large leavening of fat slumberers (among the rest the sexton and pew-opener), a crowded gallery, worshippers both devout and careless, gazers through curiosity, and the usual elements which made up a grotesque-looking country congregation at the end of the last century.

1806. A Monkey Merchant.

1807.

February 1, 1807. Miseries of London. Going out to dinner (already too late) your carriage delayed by a jam of coaches, which choke up the whole street, and allow you an hour or more than you require to sharpen your wits for table talk. Published by Ackermann, 101 Strand.

Breast against breast, with ruinous assault And deafening shock they come.

February 3, 1807. The Captain's Account-current of Charge and Discharge. Published by Giles Grinagain, 7 Artillery Street, London.—A pair of plates connected with some militia or yeomanry satire of the period: the scene of the captain's misadventure is evidently a cathedral town, but the interest of the print is not sufficiently strong to make any elucidation of the facts of the case of much importance. The captain is mounted on a spirited charger; he is losing his seat; several whips and his sabre have fallen, and the rider is holding on precariously by his horse's mane. Professor Gambado's famous tract, Hints to Bad Horsemen, is thrown on the ground. The members of the troop, galloping in the rear, are enjoying their leader's mishap, and saying, 'Our young whip is not an old jockey.' The captain cries, 'March! trot! canter! charge! halt, halt, halt! I mean;' while candid confessions burst forth spontaneously from the trumpet at his side. 'Avarice, vanity! oh what a ninny I was to throw myself off! they're laughing at me!' while hypocrisy, ingratitude, double-dealing, false friendship, malice, &c., are trumpeted forth.

In the second plate the rider has come to grief; the horse is prancing gaily, relieved of his rider; the animal is addressing a parting remark to the discharged captain: 'You seem more frightened than hurt. You have been taught the value of whips more than the use of them.'

A hussar has recovered the trumpet; he stoops over to the fallen captain, who is rubbing the seat of his injuries: 'I hope your honour is not hurt,' to which the fallen leader replies, 'I am not hurt, upon my honour!' The troopers are riding gaily on, exclaiming, 'Why, our captain needn't a fallen!'

MISERIES OF LONDON.

February 15, 1807. Miseries of Travelling; an Overloaded Coach. Published by R. Ackermann.

February 18, 1807. At Home and Abroad.—A domestic interior; the servant is leaving the room with a warming-pan, and a lady, of the developed 'fat, fair, and forty' order, is preparing to go to bed; the partner of her joys, who is more youthful, has dropped his pipe and is sipping a bumper of wine; but, although evidently sleepy, he seems disinclined to follow the lady's example of retiring to rest.

February 18, 1807. Abroad and at Home is a complete contrast to the previous subject.—A handsome-looking man is reclining on a couch before the fire; on the table by his side are fruit and wine, on his knee there dallies an elegant creature; the lady's maid is figured in the background, regaling herself with drops on the sly.

February 26, 1807. Mrs. Showwell, the Woman who shows General Guise's Collection of Pictures at Oxford. Etched and published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.—This, like the companion print, bears the initials J. N. Esq. (John Nixon), 1807, but the style of execution is in Rowlandson's marked manner. Mrs. Showwell is a dwarfed, quaint old woman, of good-natured appearance, wearing a cap and hood; she is pointing out the excellences of a collection of old masters with a wand, and in her other hand is held the key of the gallery.[6]

March 1, 1807. The Enraged Vicar. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.—

To see them rattle, howl, and tear, By Jove, 'twould make a parson swear,

A subject of wanton destruction, which forms a fitting companion to the invasion of the tulip-fancier's flower-beds by irrepressible butterfly-collectors, was published the year following, as The Enraged Vicar. In this case the horticultural tastes of the reverend gentleman have led him to turn the grounds of the vicarage into a picture of the most unvarying precision: clipped hedges, chopped borders of box, with yew-trees and evergreens, carved into wonderful imitations of impossible objects, form the passion of his heart. A hunted fox is darting through these wonderful works of art; the hounds are breaking over everything, and the whole field of fox-hunters are riding through the Vicar's boundaries, and pounding their horses over his cherished monstrosities. Judging from the frantic state of the dignitary, the reverse of benedictions seem likely to be invoked upon the heads of the intruders, who are wrecking the results of any amount of misdirected patience 'in less than no time.'

THE ENRAGED VICAR.

April 18, 1807. All the Talents. Published by Stockdale, Pall Mall.

ALL THE TALENTS.

Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum.

The complex nature of the famous Broad-Bottom Administration, known as 'All the Talents,' is set forth in an allegorical representation, which is supposed to include the several qualifications of the vaunted illuminés. It may be remembered that this Ministry, which came into power under Liberal and popular auspices, retired on the rejection of their favourite measure, Catholic Emancipation, which they were pledged to introduce. The King, and his friends, the remnant of the Pittites, made a desperate stand against this measure, and the consequence of its defeat was the immediate withdrawal of 'All the Talents' from office. As embodied by Rowlandson's pencil, the combination of heterogeneous elements produced a curious monster: the wig of a learned judge is worn on the head of a spectacled ape, with an episcopal mitre and a Catholic crosier; a lawyer's bands, a laced coat, and ragged breeches; wearing one shoe, and a French jackboot; and dancing upon a funeral pyre of papers, the results of the Administration, its endless negotiations with France, and its sinecures and patronages, which are blazing away. The creature's right foot is discharging a musket, to represent the 'Army,' which is producing certain mischief in the rear, and bringing two heavy folios, Magna Charta and the Coronation Oath upon the head of the dangerous animal. The left hand, holding a pen upside-down, is supposed to be compounding new financial projects, in a ledger laid over a music book, 'Country dances,' an allusion to the alleged dancing proclivities of Lord Henry Petty, the Broad-Bottomite Chancellor of the Exchequer.

The smoke, from the pipe of this lusus Naturæ, is obscuring the portrait of William Pitt. The end of 'All the Talents,' who sacrificed their influence from conscientious motives, and whose upright principles were beyond suspicion, was a great source of triumph to their opponents, who signalised their retirement with a volley of satirical effusions. The 'Interment of the Broad-Bottomite Ministry' produced a shower of political squibs and caricatures; and among the best verses on the occasion, appeared the following mocking epitaph, which has been attributed to the gifted pen of Canning, who came into office on the dismissal of 'All the Talents.'

When the Broad-Bottomed junto, all nonsense and strife, Resigned, with a groan, its political life; When converted to Rome, and of honesty tired, It to Satan gave back what himself had inspired;

The Demon of Faction, that over them hung, In accents of anguish their epitaph sung; While Pride and Venality joined in the stave, And canting Democracy wept on the grave.

Here lies, in the tomb that we hollowed for Pitt, The conscience of Grenville, of Temple the wit; Of Sidmouth the firmness, the temper of Grey, And Treasurer Sheridan's promise to pay.

Here Petty's finance, from the evils to come, With Fitzpatrick's sobriety creeps to the tomb; And Chancellor Ego, now left in the lurch, Neither laughs at the law nor cuts jokes at the Church.

Then huzza for the party that here's laid to rest— 'All the Talents,' but self-praising blockheads at best: Though they sleep in oblivion, they've died with the hope, At the last day of freedom, to rise with the Pope.

A NINCOMPOOP, OR HEN-PECKED HUSBAND.

April 24, 1807. A Nincompoop, or Hen-peck'd Husband. Published by T. Tegg, Cheapside (147).—It is supposed to be the day of rest and ease, and comfortable cits are taking their summer outings to suburban resorts. A buxom city wife is sailing along with an air like a tragedy queen, fanning herself as she walks. Her better half, a miserable being reduced to abject servitude, is bearing a bundle, a shawl, a pair of pattens, and an umbrella, objects to serve in the train of his mistress's grandeur; the poor 'nincompoop' is vainly turning his eyes up Heavenwards: no miracle is vouchsafed to free him from his bondage. Other stout promenaders are bursting with indignation at the weakness of this lord of creation, while they walk in the other extreme, and leave their better halves to drag along both children and baggage in their wake. Certain tired pedestrians are enjoying the reward of their exertions, while partaking of cool pipes and tankards, at the 'Old Swan Inn, Ordinary on Sundays,' whither the parties have evidently proceeded to dine.

April 26, 1807. John Rosedale, Mariner. Exhibitor at the Hall of Greenwich Hospital. Etched and published by T. Rowlandson.—Like the companion print, Mrs. Showwell (Feb. 26), the sketch is signed with the initials J. N. Esq. The old sailor Cicerone, who has a pigtail, and wears a long square-cut coat of naval blue, with gold buttons and lace, is pointing out with a cane the mysteries of certain allegorical compositions to the gaping spectators:—

'Here is George, Prince of Denmark, and in the perspective a view of St. Paul's, London, Sir James Thornhill in the wig, &c. &c.'

May 1, 1807. The Pilgrims and the Peas. Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside. One of a series of headings to songs, ballads, &c., published by T. Tegg.—In the illustration to Peter Pindar's Apologue of The Pilgrims and the Peas, the disconsolate sinner, with hard peas in his shoes, is crawling along, doubled up with agony, to the shrine at Loretto, meeting halfway the joyful pilgrim, who has accomplished his penance, 'whitewashed his soul,' and returned from his journey without personal inconvenience, by the exercise of the simplest precaution, as he confesses:—

To walk a little more at ease, I took the liberty to boil my peas!

May 3, 1807. Scenes at Brighton, or the Miseries of Human Life. Published by A. Berigo, 38 Maiden Lane, Covent Garden.

Plate 1. Beauty, Music, a few thousands, and opportunity given by card tables, often feather the adventurer and prove an easy introduction to the Miseries of Human Life.

Plate 2. Jealousy, rage, disappointment, intrigue, and laughter are here pretty much exemplified, and afford an old Lover a high-seasoned taste of the Miseries of Human Life.

May 6, 1807. Monastic Fare.

And why I'm so plump, the reason I'll tell, Who leads a good life is sure to live well, What Baron, or Squire, or Knight of the Shire Lives half so well as a Holy Friar?

MONASTIC FARE.

May 6, 1807. Black, Brown, and Fair. Designed by Sir E. Bunbury. Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—An illustration to the lines:—

With Black, Brown, and Fair, I have frolic'd 'tis true, But I never lov'd any, dear Mary, but you.

At the window of a tavern, at Wapping 'Dock Head,' is a bevy of beauties, representing the variations of complexion described by the song-writer. The redundant charms of this collection of beauties are arresting an equally diversified circle of admirers, numbering mulattos, a Chinaman, a Holland skipper, a foreign Jew, and a Virginia nigger.

May 6, 1807. The Holy Friar. Designed by Sir E. Bunbury. Rowlandson, sculp.

I am a Friar of orders Grey, And down the valleys I take my way. I pull not Blackberry, Haw, or Hip; Good store of ven'son does fill my scrip. My long Bead-roll I merrily chaunt, Wherever I walk no money I want; And why I'm so plump, the reason I'll tell, Who leads a good life is sure to live well; What Baron, or Squire, or Knight of the Shire Lives half so well as a Holy Friar?

After supper of Heav'n I dream, But that is fat pullets and clouted cream; Myself by denial I mortify, With a dainty bit of a Warden pie. I'm cloth'd in sackcloth for my sin, With old Sack wine I'm lin'd within, A chirping cup is my Matin song, And the vesper's bell is my bowl—ding dong! What Baron, or Squire, or Knight of the Shire Lives half so well as a Holy Friar?

THE HOLY FRIAR.

May 16, 1807. I Smell a Rat, or a Rogue in Grain. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. An exuberant rustic charmer has been entertaining a fashionable visitor in a granary; a party of rustics, mounting the ladder, have disturbed the interview. A powdered, pig-tailed, and lace-ruffled dandy has sought concealment amidst the sacks of grain; his head appears over the barrier in sheer dismay, for a determined farm help, probably the legitimate swain of the indignant damsel, armed with a formidable pitchfork, is making reckless efforts to impale the trespasser; his fury is slightly restrained by the stalwart exertions of the lady, who has buried her fingers in the village Othello's shock head of hair; at his feet is a scroll with the quotation 'I smell a rat, dead for a ducat.' A bill, pinned on the wall, sets forth 'Rats, pole cats, and all sorts of vermin effectively destroyed.'

May 17, 1807. The Old Man of the Sea, sticking to the Shoulders of Sindbad the Sailor. Vide The Arabian Nights Entertainments. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—The dandified Sir Francis Burdett is figured as a discontented Sindbad the Sailor; his preceptor John Horne Tooke, in his clerical garments, is perched on his pupil's shoulders, and he is driving him through The Mire of Politics, in which he is wading knee-deep. In the distance is shown the baronet's mansion, Independence and a comfortable home. From an upper window a lady is waving back the traveller, who does not relish turning his back on this prospect to encounter the Ministerial Shoals and Treasury Rocks which are opposed to his progress on the other side. Horne Tooke is urging on the career of his protégé: 'Persevere! persevere! you are the only man to get through.' Burdett's confidence is wavering: 'This old man will be the end of me at last; what a miry place he has brought me into!'

May 25, 1807. A White Sergeant giving the Word of Command: 'Why don't you come to bed, you drunken sot?' Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—A man, past the meridian of life, is calmly enjoying his pipe before his fire, with an agreeable book in his hand, 'Rule a wife and have a wife.' The young wife is indignantly rating the easy-going husband on his inclination to prefer the fireside to his conjugal couch.

May 29, 1807. Comedy in the Country, Tragedy in London. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—Comedy in the Country is played in a barnlike building to an audience of rustics, whose faces express the most intense appreciation. Tragedy in London, as performed in a fashionable theatre, has plunged a very select audience into the depths of grief and misery: tears bedew every cheek, and even the members of the orchestra are weeping profusely.

May 30, 1807. Platonic Love. 'None but the Brave deserve the Fair.' Sir E. Bunbury del., Rowlandson sculp.—An illustration to the lines in Othello wherein Desdemona's wooing is described. A veteran commander, who has lost an arm and both legs, is acting on the advice of his fair, who is tenderly embracing his wooden leg. Although the name of Rowlandson is appended to this plate, the method of its execution bears a closer resemblance to the handling of C. W. (Williams).

June 12, 1807. Miseries Personal. Published by Ackermann, 101 Strand. 'After dinner, when the ladies retire with you from a party of very pleasant men, having to entertain as you can half a score of empty or formal females; then after a decent time has elapsed, and your patience and topics are equally exhausted, ringing for the tea, &c., which you sit making in despair for above two hours, having three or four times sent word to the gentlemen that it is ready, and overheard your husband, at the last message, answer, "Very well, another bottle of wine." By the time the tea and coffee are quite cold, they arrive, continuing as they enter, and for an hour afterwards, their political disputes, occasionally suspended by the master of the house by a reasonable complaint to his lady at the coldness of the coffee; soon after the carriages are announced and the company disperse.'

MISERIES PERSONAL.

June 15, 1807. Murphy Delaney. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—This caricature is an illustration to the song which is printed below it. It happened to the hero, Murphy Delaney, to find himself, when 'fresh as a shamrock and blind as a bull' from the effects of imbibing a 'skinful of whiskey,' by the side of the quay, which he mistook for the floor of his shed, 'And the keel of a coal-barge he just tumbled over, and thought all the while he was going to bed.' When his body was recovered from the river an inquest was duly held to determine the cause of his end, during which the subject of the deliberation revived, and appeared as a witness; but his testimony being declined, on the ground of his recent decease, the jury appealed to the doctor, who swore that, as Delaney was 'something alive,' it 'must be his ghost. So they sent out of hand for the clergy to lay him, but Pat laid the clergy, and then ran away.'

June 18, 1807. A View on the Banks of the Thames. (No. 177.) Published by T. Tegg. (See illustration, p. 77.)

A VIEW ON THE BANKS OF THE THAMES.

July 1, 1807. More Scotchmen, or Johnny Maccree Opening his New Budget.—Lord Melville, on the strength of his re-instalment, has extended his patronage to a swarm of his countrymen; he is dressed in Highland garb, and is opening the mouth of his sack, from whence is issuing an interminable stream of Scotchmen, who are trooping steadily on the road to fortune, through the portals of St. Stephens. 'There ye are, my bonny lads, mak the best o' your way, the door is open, and leave a Scotsman alaine to stick in a place gin he once gains an entrance.' John Bull, who is standing aside, quite overpowered by the spectacle of this Caledonian incursion, is exclaiming: 'Dang it, what a swarm of them there be—enough to cause a famine in any Christian country!'

July 9, 1807. A Cure for Lying and a Bad Memory. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—A wag at one of the universities has applied to an empiric, on a visit to the neighbourhood, for a cure, as a proof of his skill, for a propensity to tell lies, and a memory which retained no recollection of what its possessor had stated last. In the picture the quack has just administered his Pillula Memoria and Anti Fibbibus; the incautious would-be waggish student is very uncomfortable, and declares he has taken Asafœtida. 'You speak the truth,' says the doctor, 'you are perfectly cured; and as to your memory, that cure follows of course, for I am sure you will never forget the medicine!'

July 10, 1807. The Double Disaster, or New Cure for Love. Rowlandson del. et sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—This sketch, which is characterised by the artist's usual spirit when dealing with kindred subjects, represents the situation of a rustic swain, whose philanderings have landed him in the midst of the perplexities of a double dilemma. It is seemingly 'washing day,' and the gallant intruder has effected his admission to court the graces of a pretty maiden, who is thrown into consternation at the risk to which her suitor, by an awkward contretemps, is suddenly exposed. The pair have evidently been disturbed at the moment the lady was engaged in drawing a mug of ale for the refreshment of her admirer; in the confusion, the tap of the beer barrel is still left running, and all the maid's solicitude is centred in the position of her swain, who has incautiously taken refuge in the copper. A very disagreeable-looking old beldame is kindling a blazing fire in the stove, while a buxom wench is working away at the pump, which is pouring gallons of water into the unlucky Lothario's place of concealment. The youth is hesitating midway between the ordeals of fire or water, and he is struggling to effect his escape from both, at the risk of exposure and its consequences.

July 14, 1807. Easter Hunt. Clearing a Fence. (Easter Monday, or the Cockney Hunt.)

1807. Miseries of the Country. 'While on a visit to the hundreds of Essex, being under the necessity of getting dead drunk every day to save your life.'

Et propter vitam vivendi perdere causas....

The hundreds of Essex, it appears from the print, which represents a bacchanalian sporting revel, were doubtless attractive to fox-hunters; but the hospitalities exercised therein were rather excessive. The usual accompaniments of a drunken bout of the period are set forth with Rowlandson's graphic skill; an old toper is draining a punch-bowl and capsizing himself simultaneously; an ambitious young reveller is tipsily trying to mount the table, and over-balancing himself in the attempt; a stout divine is indisposed in a corner; heavy drinkers laid low are on the floor, whence they are dragged off by their heels, and carried to bed in an incapable and collapsed condition. Furniture is knocked over, and chimney ornaments sent to grief. It is an anniversary meeting of choice spirits.

October 5, 1807. A Mistake at Newmarket, or Sport and Piety. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—A good pious old soul, wearing a hood, red cloak, clean apron, and pattens, and carrying Wesley's hymns in her hand, is interrogating certain sporting characters, who are lounging at the door of the Ram Inn. 'Pray, young man,' she enquires of a smart young jockey, 'are there any meetings in this town?' To which the jockey replies, 'Yes, ma'am, two a year—Spring and October!'

1807(?) Englishman at Paris. H. Bunbury invt., Rowlandson sculp.—Our old friend John Bull is shown, with his travelling accompaniments, philosophically pursuing his quiet way in the land of the 'Monsieurs.' He is the centre of curiosity, though, according to the artist's picture, he is the least remarkable object in the group. A corpulent friar is observing the well-rounded person of the stranger with an appreciative eye; while a lean cook, in wooden shoes, is staring with astonishment at the goodly proportions of the Englishman. A French petit-maître is driving a ramshackle contrivance, and his queerly clad servant is perched on the springs behind. A female luggage porter is plodding along, and an adventitious shower, directed from a balcony above, is descending on the umbrella of a dandified pedestrian, daintily mincing along on tiptoe, who, at first glance, might be taken for a live Marquis, if, on inspection, his apron and the professional implements peeping out of his coat-tail, did not proclaim him a barber. John Bull's substantially built dog is eyeing a sniffing French hound with threatening suspicion.

ENGLISHMAN AT PARIS.

1807(?) Symptoms of Restiveness. H. Bunbury del., Rowlandson sculp.—Henry Bunbury, it will be observed, was remarkably fond of drawing disasters in the saddle; his brother, the respected Sir Charles Bunbury, was, for many years, president of the Jockey Club, in which difficult position he rigorously upheld the integrity of the turf; and there is no doubt that the originator of 'Geoffrey Gambado, Esq.,' and of those invaluable precepts on equitation published and illustrated as alleged by the eminent Riding Master of the Horse and Grand Equerry to the Doge of Venice (about the only potentate who could not find a turnpike-road within his capital), must have had 'a good eye for a horse.'

The Symptoms of Restiveness are of a somewhat marked and unmistakable character: while one sportsman's steed is kneeling down on his forelegs, and turning the huntsman heels over head, another cavalier's animal is standing rigidly on his forelegs, and perseveringly attempting to dislodge his mount by kicking out wildly behind. A third rider is no less fortunate in his hack, which has 'no mouth,' and is moreover a 'bolter'; the animal is steadily plunging through everything in its way, apparently unconscious of the desperate efforts his master is making to hold him in. An old woman, with her barrow and its contents, are tumbled over, without attracting the attention of the wrong-headed brute, whose mind is absorbed in his own private speculations.

SYMPTOMS OF RESTIVENESS.

1807(?) A Calf's Pluck. Designed by H. Bunbury. Etched by T. Rowlandson.

A CALF'S PLUCK.

1807(?) Rusty Bacon. Designed by H. Bunbury. Etched by T. Rowlandson.

RUSTY BACON.

1807(?) A Tour to the Lakes.—

Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round, Through all its various paths hath been, Must oft have wondered to have found His warmest welcome at an Inn.

A clerical traveller has arrived, late at night, at an hostel; a pretty chamber-maid is showing the reverend visitor to his room, bearing a lighted candle, a warming-pan, and the saddle-bags of the guest, who appears well pleased with his conductress, and is imparting his admiration. As it appears that this gentleman is inclined to be less respectable than his venerated calling should suggest, it is less scandalising to observe that various practical jokes of a rough character are besetting his path; consequently, it is highly probable that he will receive an active moral lesson before he reaches his chamber.

November 9, 1807. Thomas Simmons, drawn from Life by Mr. Angelo. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. 'The horrid and inhuman murderer of Mrs. Hammerstone and Mrs. Warner at the house of Mr. Boreham, a Quaker at Hoddesdon, in Herts, on Tuesday evening, October 20, 1807.'—The barbarous murderer does not rejoice in a very formidable exterior. His weakly person has been sketched by the hand of Henry Angelo, the well-known fencing-master, a firm friend of Rowlandson through life. His amusing Memoirs have supplied us with many circumstances relating to the caricaturist. It appears that Angelo, Bannister, and Rowlandson were schoolfellows at an early period of life, and they were all as youths excessively fond of their pencils; although it was reserved for Rowlandson alone to attain proficiency in the fine arts. Angelo, like George Selwyn, Colonel Hanger, and some few notorieties, was fond of attending executions, visiting jails, and similar lugubrious exhibitions. Among his visits to prisons he encountered some curious characters. Thomas Simmons, the subject of the present plate, was one of the unfortunates with whom he became acquainted on one of these eccentric excursions.

From the sketch, Thomas Simmons appears a mere dwarf of a man, a harmless-looking and apparently half-witted individual, realising the traditional idea of Simple Simon. This murderer has heavy manacles round his puny limbs. Groups of miserable prisoners, and hard-featured jailors are in the rear, and the heavy iron doors of Newgate afford an appropriate background.

November 10, 1807. Directions to Footmen. Rowlandson del. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside (273).—'Take off the largest dishes, and set them on with one hand, to show the ladies your vigour and strength of back, but always do it between two ladies, that if the dish happens to slip, the soup or sauce may fall on their clothes, and not daub the floor; by this practice, two of our brethren, my worthy friends, got considerable fortunes.'—A stalwart awkward-looking yokel, in a showy livery, is carrying out these useful directions to the letter. While grinning at his horrified mistress, he is upsetting a tureen held loosely in his right hand, over a handsome damsel, and is flooding the table-cloth, to the horror of the company, and the delight of a poodle, which is revelling in the stream. In the clumsy footman's left hand is held a dish, from which he is calmly allowing the joint, gravy, &c., to glide over the back of another dog who is less pleased than his companion.

November 10, 1807. John Bull making Observations on the Coast. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—The head of George the Third, as the sun, is throwing its brilliant rays across the Channel, and shining on the British Fleet which lines the waters. The head of Napoleon Buonaparte, with his cocked hat and feather, is represented as a comet with a fiery train, which is making vicious exertions to dash itself across the orb of day. John Bull has planted his telescope on the shores of the Channel, and his eye is following the course of the erratic meteor: 'Ay, ay, Master Comet, you may attempt your peri-heliums, or your devil-heliums for what I care, but take the word of an old man, you'll never reach the sun, depend upon it.'

November 20, 1807. A Couple of Antiquities. Published by R. Ackermann.

November 20, 1807. My Aunt and My Uncle. Published by R. Ackermann.

November 21, 1807. The Dog and the Devil. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—The interior of a conjurer's chamber, decorated with the usual paraphernalia of bats, stuffed crocodiles, &c. The empiric wears his learned robes and fur cap; in the centre of a magic circle stands the pretended enchanter's assistant, dressed in a bullock's hide, with the horns and tail left on, to personate the Father of Evil; a butcher, in his working dress, has called to consult the oracle concerning a missing sheep; he has brought his bull-dog with him, unobserved by the demonstrator, and the animal, true to his instincts, has pinned the mock demon-bull by the nose; 'the pretended devil roar'd most tremendously; but the dog kept a firm hold. The conjurer, rising in a passion, exclaimed, "You scoundrel, take off your dog!" The butcher, however, perceiving the cheat, cried out, "Not I, doctor, I know he is of as good a breed as ever bolted, so let 'em fight fair; if you are not afraid of your devil, I am not afraid of my dog; so dog against devil for what sum you please!"' The fictitious demon is in bad case.

1807 (?). More Miseries, or the Bottom of Mr. Figg's Old Whiskey broke through.—A serio-comic scene that befel the 'grocer's wife at Norwich, owing to the bottom of Mr. Figg's whiskey breaking through.' The flooring of a vehicle something like a phaeton has proved too slight for a ponderous occupant: the lady's ample proportions are framed in the chaise, to the alarm of her husband, who is seizing the prancing horse. Certain gazers, hugely delighted, are hastening up not to lose the spectacle of the lady's awkward situation.

1807 (?). The Man of Feeling.—The scene takes place in a sky-parlour, and the principal performer is a son of the Church.

1807 (?). Miseries of Bathing. 'After bathing in the river, on returning to the bank for your clothes, finding that a passing thief has taken a sudden fancy to the cut of every article of your dress.'

1807 (?). The Pleasures of Human Life. By Hilari Benevolus & Co. Published by Longmans, 1807. Crown 8vo. Pleasures of Human Life, in a dozen dissertations, interspersed with various anecdotes, Pleasures of Fashion, Fashionable People, Market of Love, Greeks, Literature, Hints to Print Collectors, Puffing, etc., coloured by Rowlandson.

1808.

SOCIAL AND GENERAL CARICATURES.

January, 1808. The Discovery.

January, 1808. Wild Irish, or Paddy from Cork with his Coat Buttoned Behind.

February 16, 1808. Scenes at Brighton, or the Miseries of Human Life.

Plate 3. 'A Blackleg detected secreting cards &c., after drawing upon your purse on former occasions, is the properest of men to run the gauntlet, as he but too often produces substantial Miseries for Human Life.'

Plate 4. 'Suffering under the last symptoms of a dangerous malady, you naturally hope relief from medical skill and practice; but flying periwigs, brandished canes, and clysters, the fear of random cuffs, &c., intrude and produce a climax in the Miseries of Human Life.'

March 1, 1808. Miseries of High Life.—'Briskly stooping to pick up a lady's fan, at the same moment when two other gentlemen are doing the same thing, and so making a cannon with your head against both of theirs, and this without being the happy man after all.'

MISERIES OF HIGH LIFE.

March 1, 1808. The Green Dragon. Rowlandson del. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—A clerical-looking and corpulent reprobate is receiving the upbraidings of his infuriated spouse, to whom the artist has playfully given some resemblance to a veritable dragon, with teeth, claws, and venom. The position of affairs is further explained by a spirited representation of 'Socrates and Zantippe,' which hangs on the wall. A pretty servant-maid, who is making a somewhat hasty exit, is supposed to have aroused the jealousy of the virago, whose vials of wrath have brought her stout helpmate to a state of stupefaction and terror. The picture is accompanied by the lines of Gay, from the Beggars' Opera:—

With rage I redden like scarlet, that my dear inconstant varlet, Stark blind to my charms, is lost in the arms of that jilt, that inveigling harlot!

March 1, 1808. Description of a Boxing Match. June 9, 1806. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.

April 1, 1808. Soldiers on a March. 'To pack up her tatters and follow the drum.' Designed and published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.—The progress of the regiment is much impeded by camp-followers. A stream happening to cross the route, the marching party are wading through; the soldiers bearing in addition to their knapsack the fairer burden of a wife, and in some cases two infants, with kettles, gridirons, and other culinary appliances, the latter swinging on the end of their muskets. The officer commanding the party has the advantage of securing a mount on the plump shoulders of a pretty damsel, whose skirts are tucked up as a preparation towards wading across the water, with the feathered hero on her back.

May 12, 1808. The Consultation, or Last Hope. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—'So when the Doctors shake their heads, and bid their patient think of Heaven—all's over, good night!'

From the picture, which rejoices in this comforting quotation, we judge the unfortunate invalid, introduced by the artist as the principal figure in this humorous plate, is in a bad case; his suffering face expresses all the forlorn terrors of his extreme situation, which seems tolerably hopeless, since he is attended by no less than ten learned practitioners, and a sick-nurse; it is hard if among them they cannot settle their patient's condition. The ten are by no means troubling themselves about their client all at once: it is sufficient that a brace of the brethren are feeling each a pulse, which operation does not seem to afford them much enlightenment, since one is consulting his chronometer, and the other is seeking inspiration from the head of his gold-topped stick. Their colleagues are more agreeably engaged in fortifying themselves for their arduous professional duties by attending manfully to the refreshment department. The gouty patient has evidently been a man of substance; over his mantel hangs a map of 'Rotten Boroughs,—Camelford, Devon, &c.'

May 21, 1808. Volunteer Wit, or not Enough for a Prime. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg (227).—A party of Volunteer officers are gathered round the mahogany of their entertainer, who, it seems, is a notorious screw; the host is offering to fill the wine-glasses of the mess, but the dimensions of the glasses are somewhat miniature for bumper toasts. A challenge is given from the chair: 'Come, gentlemen-volunteers, to the right and left—Charge if you please to the King!' The vice-chair is winning the sympathies of the rest, and extracting a grin all round, by standing up, spectacles on nose, and responding: 'I should be very happy to obey your orders, Colonel, but really your glasses are so small, that, dash me if there's enough for a prime!' The Colonel's miserly disposition is hinted by the various papers thrown about, on the 'Current prices of Port wine,' and such maxims as 'A penny saved is twopence got'; with a statement pinned to the wall, 'How to get rich,' 'Pinch, squeeze, gripe, snatch, &c.'

1808 (?). The Anatomy of Melancholy. ''Tis a misery to be born, a pain to live, a trouble to die.'—A mixed scene of suffering and indifference. Propped up in a pillowed arm-chair, before the fire, is a melancholy invalid, old, decrepit, and ill-favoured. By his side is a list of 'Remedies against discontents,' 'Cure of jealousy,' &c.; on the mantel is an array of doctor's bottles, and a hatchment,—groans, griefs, sadness,—forms a cheerful adornment for the chimneypiece.

Behind the sufferer, whose last hour, it seems, is approaching—since Death has thrust his head, arm, and hour-glass through a window above his head—is seated a blooming young damsel, decked out in all the attractiveness of an evening toilette; planted at a table by her side is a dandified admirer; before them a dessert is arranged, and decanters of wine are ready to hand. The nonchalant pair are pledging one another amorously in bumpers, while the spirit of the founder of the feast is departing. A painting of Democritus, his face wearing an expression of grief on one side, and laughter on the other, explains the transitory nature of sorrow, and the key of the situation is further offered by certain lines inscribed on a paper under the lady's hand: 'Come what may, the cat will mew, the dog will have his day.'

May 21, 1808. The Mother's Hope. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside. (No. 228.)—The Mothers Hope is a pretty juvenile termagant, a Turk of the most irreclaimable order. The young rebel is dancing about in a fine rage, scattering his playthings, and 'making a bobbery' which is setting the entire house by the ears. The screams of the intractable elder are imitated by an infant in arms, and a canary is adding its shrill pipings to the general squall, after the nature of little warblers.

THE MOTHER'S HOPE.

The wilful child is making a general statement of refractory resolutions:—'I don't like dolls—I don't like canary birds—I hate battledore and shuttlecock—I like drums and trumpets—I won't go to school—I will stay at home—I will have my own way in everything!' The horrified grandmother is growing prophetic on the strength of this irreconcilable prodigy: 'Bless the Baby—what an aspiring spirit—if he goes on in this way he will be a second Buonaparte!'

June 4, 1808. The Sweet Little Girl that I Love. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg. (167.)—A long military gentleman, wearing spectacles, a pigtail, and a powdered wig and whiskers, in the course of his perambulations has come across a quaint round little body, as broad as she is long, and perched on pattens: the hero is stooping low to salute the lips of the dwarfed lady. The picture is designed as a parody upon the lines:—

My friends all declare that my time is misspent, While in rural contentment I rove: I ask no more wealth than Dame Fortune has sent, And the sweet little girl that I love. The rose on her cheek's my delight: She's soft as the down—the down of the dove. No lily was ever so fair As the sweet little girl that I love.

June 4, 1808. Odd Fellows from Downing Street, complaining to John Bull. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside (168).—John Bull, in his best clothes, and standing in the vicinity of the Treasury, is receiving a deputation, the members of which, as far as appearance goes, are singularly fitted for the order of Odd-fellows. The object of their interview is simply an appeal to the sympathies of the National Prototype: 'You must know, Mr. Bull, we are a society of Odd Fellows who had a Lodge in Downing Street, and were robb'd of our cash and accounts, notwithstanding we met at the King's Head, and so near the Treasury too! Is not it very hard? However, we have left Downing Street entirely.' John Bull, who, with his hand beneath his coat-tails, is ruminating over other more weighty matters applying to his own case, and peering through his huge spectacles, returns in reply: 'All I have to say, my good friends, is this—I am very sorry for you, but I must own I am of opinion if some more Odd Fellows in Downing Street were to quit their situations it would be very much to my advantage!'

June 20, 1808. A Snug Cabin, or Port Admiral. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—Very different cheer to the Volunteer Prime, is found on board the ship of the port-admiral. That worthy personage is drawn entertaining his naval colleagues, admirals, commodores, and captains, in his state cabin, with the best of cheer; baskets of prime vintage from the Isles of the Madeira, are ready to the nimble steward's hand, and the goodly flasks are uncorked in a twinkling. The jorums on the mahogany are capacious, and the glasses, which are freely emptied, would serve as goblets for more than half-pint bumpers; however, in spite of the hilarity, and the liberal circulation of the decanters, decorum is preserved, and the naval commanders are comporting themselves like 'fine old English gentlemen,' while the toast goes round:—

Come Hurricane, Drink your Wine. Here's to the wind that blows, The ship that goes, And the lass that loves a sailor.

A SNUG CABIN, OR PORT ADMIRAL.

June 30, 1808. Accommodation, or Lodgings to Let at Portsmouth. Published by T. Tegg. (219.)—Certain smartly-rigged tars have just come on shore, evidently after a handsome haul in the way of prize-money, as the spruceness of their turn-out evinces. A highly presentable 'salt' has his wife in tow; the lady has evidently taken a share of his good fortune, being dressed in the height of the fashion, with ear-rings, necklets, and chains, heavy enough for cables, to which are suspended miniatures, seals, and watches. The happy pair are evidently about to set up housekeeping, and an advertisement-board has just arrested their attention, conveying the information, 'Lodgings for Single Men and their Wives,' with an invitation to ring the bell. 'Why, Nan,' exclaims the tar to his partner, 'this is the very berth we have been so long looking after!'

June 30, 1808. The Welsh Sailor's Mistake, or Tars in Conversation. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside. (220.)—The artist has assumed a little poetic licence to perpetrate a jokelet of a very harmless order. Groups of sailors are seated on the forecastle, some perched on coils of rope, others on sea chests; a British tar, on a barrel, with a canister of 'real Oronooko' by his side, is spinning a yarn to his messmates; he has arrived at the exciting incident of his narrative:—'and so then, do you see, David, we sprung a leak!' when his Welsh messmate, who cannot resist this allusion to a reputed national delicacy, rather irrationally interrupts him: 'Cot pless us—and save us—did you? and a ferry coot fetchitable it is; I should have liked to have had a pit with you.'

October 25, 1808. A Bill of Fare for Bond Street Epicures. Woodward del., engraved by T. Rowlandson. Published by T. Tegg.

November 1, 1808. Wonderfully Mended; shouldn't have known you again. One of the series bearing Rowlandson's name, and published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street.—The scene represents the consulting room of some eminent quack of the day, who, dressed in his morning-gown and slippers, with glasses on nose, is receiving his decrepit and melancholy patients. The comforting assurance given by the practitioner to his patients is, it appears, totally without foundation; all his clients, judging from their condition, being in a fair way to supplement the Bills of Mortality.

November 1, 1808. The Last Shift. Published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street.—Interior of a pawnbroker's shop; two St. Giles's demireps are shown in the act of raising a loan to replenish their gin bottle, at the expense of their wardrobe.

November 1, 1808. Breaking Cover. Published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street.—A fox-hunting party is passing through a village; one of the Nimrods has seemingly formed an attachment for a fair neighbour: standing on the back and saddle of his horse, he has contrived to raise himself to the level of the lady's casement, and she is leaning out of window, and rewarding his gallantry with a tender embrace; meanwhile her husband in his nightcap, opening the shutter below, is securing a prospect of the proceeding, which has thrown an expression of idiotic consternation over his simple features.

November 1, 1808. Get Money.—One of a series engraved in rough facsimile of Rowlandson's original drawings, and bearing an imitation of his autograph in the corner; published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street.

Below the print appear the following lines:—

Get Money, Money still, And then let Virtue follow if she will.

Three conventional types of Israelites are indicated standing in Duke's Place, the resort of Jewish clothesmen, eagerly canvassing the above doctrine, and carrying out its first injunction.

DOCTOR GALLIPOT.

November 1, 1808. Doctor Gallipot placing his Fortune at the feet of his Mistress. Published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street.

Throw physic to the dogs.

Doctor Gallipot, a brandy-faced empiric, who is dressed in the height of the 'Frenchified' fashion, the better to support his quackeries, is laying the implements of his profession, as his fortune, at the feet of a slightly theatrical looking lady, whose figure is delineated with Rowlandson's accustomed grace and spirit.

November 1, 1808. Rum Characters in a Shrubbery. Published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street.—Four demireps, of dissipated appearance and varied characteristics, are regaling themselves on Booth's gin at a public bar or Rum Shrubbery.

About 1808. Bartholomew's Fair. Nixon del., Rowlandson sculp.—The fun of the Fair is represented in full swing, and the humours of the scenes displayed on all sides are seized and hit off with the usual felicity of both artists. Judging from the caricature, the abolition of fairs in the City must have been a boon to public order and morality. The noise, disorder, and misrule of the festivity are taking place outside the hospital. Boat-swings are revolving, a few of the swings are getting into difficulties, upsetting, or the bottoms coming out, while some of the swingers find themselves indisposed from the motion. There are wandering sellers of sweets, pastry, and such things as were devoured at fairings, boys with links, for it is late, and dusk; booths for refreshments, where customers are eating hot cakes cooked on the spot. There are drinking stalls where tipplers are taking too much; as is illustrated in the person of a reveller who, finding himself overcome with liquor, has laid down in the gutter to take a little rest, an opportunity not lost sight of by the light-fingered gentry who have come for business; the toper's watch, purse, hat, and other portable property are swiftly transferred. There are booths for dancing, and there are merrymakers who are managing to dance outside; there are revolving wheel-swings and merry-go-rounds; there is a crowd of very miscellaneous merry-making company, and parties of jolly sailors arriving outside coaches. The harmony of the proceedings is varied by several rows; and, in more than one spot, rings are formed for fair fighting, and both men and women are exhibiting their prowess in the boxing line, or exchanging buffets and scratches. The signs and booths of famous showmen, once the splendours of by-gone fairs, are disposed around; among the spectacles which invited those of our forefathers who 'went to see the shows,' we may notice that Rowlandson has introduced Miles' Menagerie, Saunder's Tragic Theatre, Gingle's Grand Medley, Miss Biffin, Polito's Grand Collection, Punch, &c.

ROWLANDSON'S CARICATURES AGAINST BUONAPARTE.

As we have already seen, Rowlandson's pencil and graver were enlisted against the Corsican; it would seem that the artist's anti-Napoleonic proclivities ran strongly from this period until the downfall of the Emperor; or else—which is the more reasonable solution—English prejudices against the man whose almost frantic antagonism to this country is now forgiven, if not well-nigh forgotten, demanded an unlimited supply of pictorial satires to stimulate the national hatred, a state of things which pleased both the publishers and the public, and kept the caricaturist occupied, although it is to be regretted that these somewhat imaginative scenes of horror employed his ready skill to the exclusion of those representations of social manners, and the observances of the world around him, whose eccentricities he might have sketched from the life—scenes drawn from a quaint and picturesque generation of which his earlier career has left us such lively pictures, works which alone render his name worthy of his reputation, and which form in themselves an inexhaustible and valuable legacy to his followers.

July 8, 1808. The Corsican Tiger at Bay. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The mighty disturber of the peace of Europe is figured under the form of a savage tiger, with his natural head, and on which he wears the enormous military cocked hat with its long plume—most indispensable accessories in all the caricaturist's portraits of the great 'little Corsican.' The tiger's claws are rending four 'Royal Greyhounds,' which are quite at the mercy of the ferocious conqueror; but a larger and stronger pack of 'Patriotic Greyhounds' are giving tongue, and a fierce charge is being made by some very determined and mischievous-looking hounds who are rushing up to the attack. The Dutch Frog, isolated on his own little mudheap, is promising to join the fray: 'It will be my turn to have a slap at him next.' The Russian Bear and the Austrian Eagle, are kept in secure bondage by heavy fetters, but the triple-headed bird of prey is looking forward to a fresh onslaught, and prompting his fellow-captive: 'Now Brother Bruin, is the time to break our chains.'

John Bull, on his own island shores, has come out in the character of a sportsman; he is pointing his piece at the tiger brought to bay, and is singing nursery rhymes for the general encouragement:—

There was a little man, And he had a little gun, And his bullets were made of lead: D—- me, but we'll manage him amongst us!

July 10, 1808. Billingsgate at Bayonne, or the Imperial Dinner. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The members of the Royal family of Spain, decoyed to Bayonne, are sitting down to a very unruly repast, the entire company being at loggerheads. The Queen has risen from table, and in true fishfag style she is raving at her son Ferdinand, who is confronting her: 'Now, you villain, I'll tell you to your face—and before my dear friend Boney—you are no child of the King's—so you may shut up.' At this famous interview the Oueen of Spain, it may be remembered, after upbraiding Ferdinand for his usurpation, actually declared him illegitimate. This argument, according to the print, does not demolish her opponent, who is replying: 'Madam, I know all your tricks, and all the tricks of your Prince of Peace.' The Infants of Spain are encouraging the last speaker: 'Brother, don't mind her, we, the Infants, acknowledge you;' a terrific personage, with the emblem of a Royal crown on the back of his seat, is banging down his fist and demanding: 'Am not I the great Zavallos? will you be silent?' Those on the opposite side are more tranquilly disposed; Charles, who had abdicated by Buonaparte's compulsion in favour of his son Ferdinand, is crying: 'I wish they would let a poor old King play quietly on his fiddle!' while one of the diners is actually paying attention to his meal, and wishing 'they would leave him at peace.' Little Buonaparte in the uniform of a general, as he is usually represented, has risen from a high-raised throne, erected in accordance with his imperial state, at the head of the table; he is affecting to be in a passion at the general discord which he had ingeniously contrived to foster and bring about: 'I'll tell you what, if you make such a riot at my table, I'll be d——d if I don't send you to the Round House!'

July 12, 1808. The Corsican Spider in his Web. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—The formidable Emperor is represented in a highly successful character as an overgrown spider; his body is formed of 'unbounded Ambition,' which is topped with his own head, he enjoys an amazing capacity for swallowing the surrounding insects, which seem unable to resist being drawn into his toils. The voracious Corsican Spider in the centre of his wide-spread web, is swallowing down a brace of Spanish Flies. 'Small Flies Innumerable' are entrapped in strings, and even the largest specimens seem powerless to disentangle themselves; the Austrian, Dutch, Portuguese, Hanoverian, Etrurian, Prussian, Hamburg, Italian, and Venetian Flies are all more or less effectually secured; the 'Pope Fly' is half entrapped, and is expressing a fear of being dragged in. The 'Russian Fly,' of more hostile disposition, has caught his feet in the snare: 'I declare I was half in the web before I made the discovery.' The 'Turkish Fly' is at present free, but its security is uncertain; 'I am afraid it will be my turn next.' Stout John Bull is figured as the 'British Fly'; he is observing the wiles of the 'Corsican Spider' without any anxiety on his own account: 'Ay, you may look, master Spider, but I am not to be caught in your web!'

July 12, 1808. The Corsican Nurse soothing the Infants of Spain. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside. (245.)—Buonaparte is acting as nurse to the rival Spanish claimants, still clad in his uniform and boots, with the indispensable cocked hat of Brobdingnagian proportions; the Emperor is lulling the entire royal family to sleep: with one foot he is rocking the 'Imperial Cradle,' which contains 'The good old King and his amiable Consort,' while Don Carlos, in swaddling clothes, with a padlock round his neck, is slumbering upon one of the Corsican's knees; upon the fellow is held Antonio under similar conditions, while the arch-deceiver is rocking a duplicate Imperial Cradle containing the unconscious 'Prince of Asturias,' with his other foot.

July 22, 1808. The Beast as described in the Revelations (Chap. 13), resembling Napoleon Buonaparte. Designed by G. Sauler Farnham. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The Beast, which has sprung from Corsica, is drawn with seven heads; the names of Austria, Naples, Holland, Denmark, Prussia, and Russia are on the respective crowns; the seventh head, which is of course that of Napoleon, is severed from the trunk, while vomiting forth flames. The distance shows cities on fire, where the beast has wrought destruction; on his body are the figures 666, the total of the numerals found in the name of Napoleon Buonaparte added together, taking a as one, i as ten, t as a hundred, and so on.

Spain is represented as the champion who has had the courage to make a stand against the monster. The patriot has crippled the destroyer; the hero is armed with a sabre of True Spanish Toledo, and is crying, 'True patriotism shall thus subdue the monstrous beast, and quell the rage of war.' His shield is Catalonia, a mitre, St. Peter's, Rome, is his helmet; Spanish Patriotism has struck the decisive blow from his right arm, Asturias; his sword-belt is Madrid; his legs Cordova; and with his foot, Cadiz, he is strangling a serpent. The fleet of Admiral Purvis is seen on the seas; Hope, with her anchor, is stooping to catch the crowns of France, Spain, and Portugal, which have been shaken from the brow of the smitten beast.

August 18, 1808. From the Desk to the Throne. A New Quick Step by Joseph Buonaparte. The Bass by Messrs. Nappy and Tally. Designed by G. Sauler Farnham. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—This caricature was issued to burlesque the astonishing elevation of Joseph Buonaparte to the throne of Spain, of which, through his brother's ingenuity, he secured a brief and by no means tranquil possession.

On Napoleon's coronation, his brothers had been created princes, and Joseph had been made King of Naples before the Spanish intrigue. The caricaturist's version, though striking, is not literally true. According to the print Joseph Buonaparte has one foot resting on the rail of the desk at which he lately occupied a seat, with the other he is endeavouring to touch Madrid on the map of Spain and Portugal. His pen has fallen from his ear, and he is straining to clutch the royal regalia of Spain which is above his head. From a paper pinned to the wall we are informed this remarkable promotion is taking its rise from the office of a 'public notary, Bayonne.' His fellow-clerks, pausing with their quills uplifted, to marvel at this sudden flight of ambition, are making various pertinent observations: 'What a prodigious step for a notary's clerk!' One clerk is exclaiming, 'Why, Joseph, whither art thou going?'—'Whither?' replies the elevated clerk, 'Whither, but to fill my high destiny, and, like my noble brother, sway the sceptre of another!' His colleagues are adding as riders, 'He must needs go whom the devil drives, and should it cost his neck!'

But proverbs tell of many slips Between the tankard and the lips, And really I am apt to give The proverb credit as I live!

August 21, 1808. King Joe's Retreat from Madrid. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—The occupancy of the Spanish throne has not proved, if we may trust the print, a profitable sinecure of long duration. King Joseph is rushing away from his new dignity as fast as his legs will carry him; the crown has slipped off in the flight; the fugitive's invincible standards and the 'Legions of Honour' are in tatters, but the hands of the Frenchmen are not empty; king, officers, and troops are all loaded with bags of plate and bullion. The Spanish soldiers are up in arms; their priests are encouraging the pursuers, who are firing a volley into the midst of the scared invaders, while crying 'Stop thieves! stop thieves! they have stolen the plate from the palace.' Joseph's fears are too much for his self-command; he is appealing to his great little brother, 'Why don't you stop? the Philistines are pursuing us.' Napoleon is replying from his carriage, which is tearing away up hill as fast as his coachman can urge the horses, 'I can't, brother Joe, I am in a great hurry myself.'

August 27, 1808. King Joe on his Spanish Donkey. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—King Joe, the new sovereign, is finding his seat anything but easy, and even his military saddle has proved a failure; the animal he has had the temerity to mount has become ungovernable; the usurper is losing his seat; the crown is flying one way, the sceptre another: 'Bless me, what a restive animal this is! I thought he would have been as gentle as a French pony, and was as easily managed as an Italian greyhound!' The Spanish donkey is neighing at a pack of 'Saddle-bags for the Spaniards,' and his heels are kicking to the winds the various proclamations, 'All found with arms to be shot!' 'No liberty to a Spaniard!' 'The road to fortune!' 'Joseph, King of Spain!' 'French news!' 'No quarter!' Thumbscrews for the rebels!'

September 12, 1808. A Spanish Passport to France. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—A Spanish don, dressed in all his ancient splendour, with a huge sombrero hat and feathers, a long Toledo rapier, and wearing his fierce moustachios turned up to his eyes, is kicking the French invader to France: 'Va-t'en, Coquin.' The usurper, whose courage has disappeared, is sneaking off in undissembled terror; he is receiving the indignities inflicted by the don with abject servility: 'Votre très humble serviteur, monsieur.'

September 12, 1808. The Political Butcher, or Spain cutting up Buonaparte, for the benefit of her neighbours. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The Spanish don has put on a butcher's apron and sleeves; the body of the late 'disturber of the peace of Europe' is extended on his dissecting board, and the operator is cutting up the Corsican with professional zeal. The Spaniard is holding up his enemy's head, and encouraging the other powers, who have come to take a share in the dismemberment of the Corsican, 'Now, my little fellows, here are bones for you all to pick. The meat, being just killed, may be somewhat toughish, but I'll warrant it fresh and high-flavoured. True Corsican veal, I assure you, you see the head!' The Imperial double-headed eagle of Austria, is swooping over this morsel: 'I have long wished to strike my talons into that diabolical headpiece, and now I hope to do it effectually!' The Prussian eagle is crippled: 'Oh! the delicious morsel for an eagle to pick, but my clipt wings cannot bear me so high. Cruel Boney! why cut them so short?'

The Italian greyhound is practising a new concerto called, 'If you will not when you may, when you will it shall be nay.—The harmony by Spain and Portugal.' The Danish dog is picking all the flesh left on the arm: 'The nearer the bone the sweeter the meat; but,' alluding to the presence of England, 'the nearer that Bull, the less I can eat.' The British bull-dog, who has been enjoying portions of the joints, has started up: 'I should like to have the picking of that head, for I dare say it is hare-brained!' The Russian bear is indulging in the luxury of licking the Napoleonic boots, and he is beginning to long for a taste: 'This licking gives me a mortal inclination to pick a bone, as well as the rest. But Turkey's a fine garden, and would be a vast acquisition.' Sweden, a white-coated dog, is giving good counsel to her neighbour: 'Yes, but a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush!'

The Dutch frog is seated on a cask of Hollands, beside a barrel of 'somniferous cordial' for King Louis; he is smoking a reflective pipe over his prospects. 'If I were sure matters are as they appear I should like to pick a bone, it is true; but wisdom bids us doubt, and prudence condemns precipitation, so I'll e'en take another whiff!'

In the slaughter-house at the rear are shown the carcases of Murat, Dupont, Junot, and others, suspended by the heels.

September 15, 1808. The Fox and the Grapes. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The Corsican fox, who is still at large, has turned his tail on certain rich vines heavy with ripe Spanish grapes, which are growing beside fine prolific Portuguese plum-trees. The fox, who bears Napoleon's head, with his inevitable huge cocked hat, is speciously trying to convince the Gallic cock that the fruit, which he cannot reach, is not worth gathering, 'Believe me, my dear doodle-do, you would not like them. I found them so sour that I absolutely could not touch them!' This excuse is not satisfactory to the hearer, 'But, my good friend, you promised to bring me home some Spanish grapes and Portugal plums; where are they?'

September 17, 1808. Prophecy Explained. 'And there are seven kings, five are fallen, and one is, and the other is not yet come, and when he cometh he must continue but a short space. Revelation, chap. 17, v. 10.'—The fulfilment of prophecy is pictorially set forth with a completeness which must have been felt eminently satisfactory: the five kings that have fallen, the crowned monarchs of Prussia, Bavaria, Holland, Saxony, and Wurtemberg, are all tumbling about in the 'Slough of Disgrace and Ridicule.' The one that is, is of course 'King Nap.' The little Emperor, in all his imperial state, robes, crown, orb and sceptre, is still left standing, but his face wears an apprehensive expression, as he is gazing on the fate of the one that 'continued but a short space'—'King Joe,' to wit, who is driven beyond the Pyrenean Mountains in a state of consternation, while a fair goddess, the figure of Spanish liberty, floating on the clouds, is depriving the usurper of the Spanish crown.

September 20, 1808. Napoleon the Little in a Rage with his Great French Eagle. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—Napoleon, in his general's uniform, with his sword drawn, and bristling with rage up to the tip of his preposterous feather, is menacing his huge French eagle, which is much larger than himself; the Imperial crown is on the bird's head, and one of his legs is tied up—the results of damages sustained in the recent flight from Spain. It will be remembered that Joseph Buonaparte evacuated Spain August 1808. Napoleon is furiously rating his fugitive slave, 'Confusion and destruction! what is this I see? Did I not command you not to return till you had spread your wing of victory over the whole Spanish nation?'—'Ay, it's fine talking, Nap, but if you had been there, you would not much have liked it; the Spanish cormorants pursued me in such a manner that they not only disabled one of my legs, but set me a moulting in such a terrible way that I wonder I had not lost every feather; besides it got so hot I could not bear it any longer!'

September 24, 1808. A Hard Passage, or Boney Playing Base on the Continent. The design suggested by G. Sauler Farnham. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—Buonaparte, with a drum for a seat, and standing on the map of the Continent, with his foot placed on Spain and Portugal, is trying to scrape through a difficult piece of music, Conquest of Spain and Portugal; the music book is open on a desk before him. 'Plague take it, I never met with so difficult a passage before. But if I can once get over the flats we shall do pretty well, for you see the key will then change to B sharp.' The Russian bear, with a muzzle on his jaws, is trying to accompany his leader: 'Why, that is natural enough, brother Boney, though this French horn of yours seems rather out of order, I think!'

September 25, 1808. King Joe & Co., Making the Most of their Time previous to Quitting Madrid. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.

A cut-purse of the Empire and the rule, Who from the shelf the precious Diadem stole And put it in his pocket.—Shakespeare.

Before taking their hurried departure, the 'Intrusive King' and the French invaders are helping themselves to the spoils of the Spaniards; 'Joe' is assisting himself to the regalia; the generals are packing the royal and ecclesiastical plate of Spain into chests for transport; strong boxes are being filled with bags of ducats and medals; the troopers are making off with sacks of treasure; the curtains are torn down; pictures are wrenched from the walls, and such objects as statues, which cannot be carried away, are ruthlessly destroyed. The French, it appears, wantonly damaged or burnt all the property which came in their way when they were unable to carry it off. The wardrobe, carriages, and plunder from Madrid were retaken by the British army. The numerous carriages, of all descriptions, and tumbrils so completely blocked the road, and filled the contiguous fields, it was difficult to pass. The carriages were completely loaded with baggage, and the miserable animals pushed into deep and wet ditches. The four-wheeled tumbrils were loaded with ammunition and money; the soldiers got thousands of dollars and doubloons; it is said that one man alone secured doubloons to the value of 8,000l. The entire plunder, baggage, money, artillery, and the supplies of the French army were taken, carriages, animals, and a great many ladies. Joe always travelled with a suite of the latter, generally beautiful women. It is said there were ten ladies of his private family with him; those were all taken; it is said he only escaped with the clothes on his back, having lost his hat. By way of replenishing his goods and chattels he actually stole the linen, plate, and clothes from every place he stopped at, until he reached the French frontier.'

September 29, 1808. Nap and his Partner Joe. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—The Dons of Spain and Portugal, reunited in a body, are heartily kicking the two Buonapartes into the mouth of a mysterious monster, opened for the reception of the pair and vomiting forth flames from a cavern supposed to represent the entrance to the infernal region.

So seeing we were fairly nick'd, Plump to the Devil we boldly kick'd Both Nap and his Partner Joe!

October 1, 1808. Nap and his Friends in their Glory. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—A remarkably well assorted quartet, according to English views at the period, consisting of Napoleon, seated beside his friends Death, the Devil, and Joseph, ex-king of Spain. Napoleon, at whose back is a view of Malmaison, has risen to propose a toast: 'Come, gentlemen, here is success to plunder and massacre!' Two of the guests are receiving this sentiment with rapture, but 'Joe, the intruder,' is sitting in sulkiness, discomfited by the late experience which had been forced on him.

A NEW SONG—NAP AND HIS FRIENDS IN THEIR GLORY.
To the Tune of 'Drops of Brandy.'

NAP.

These Spaniards are terrible rogues, They will not submit to my fetters, With patience so gracefully worn— Nay, sought for—by nations their betters. But let us return to the charge, And no longer with levity treat them, Once get them to lay down their arms, And I'll warrant, brave boys, we shall beat them. Rum ti iddidy-iddidy, Rum ti iddidy I do!

DEATH.

Brother Boney, we'll never despair, A trusty good friend I have found you, Kill, plunder, and burn, and destroy, And deal desolation around you. Then gaily let's push round the glass, We'll sing and run riot and revel, And I'm sure we shall have on our side, Our very good friend here, the Devil! Rum ti iddidy-iddidy, Rum ti iddidy I do!

THE DEVIL.

Believe me, friend Death, you are right, Although I'm an ugly old fellow, When mischief is getting afloat, O then I am jolly and mellow. As soon as these Spaniards are crush'd Again we'll be merry and sing, Sirs, And that we will quickly 'complish, And Joey here, he shall be king, Sirs. Rum ti iddidy-iddidy, Rum ti iddidy I do!

DON JOEY.

Excuse me from lending my aid, You may jointly pursue them, and spike them, But lately I've seen them, and own, If I speak the plain truth, I don't like them. They Liberty cherish so dear, That they certainly make her their guide, O, Who pleases may make themselves King, But may I be devilled if I do! Rum ti iddidy-iddidy, Rum ti iddidy I do!

October 3, 1808. John Bull arming the Spaniards. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—John Bull has arrived to assist the Spaniards. The national prototype, grasping his cudgel of oak, and surrounded by an array of stores of his own liberal providing, is addressing friendly encouragements to the Don: 'My good friend, you see I have brought you clothing for ten thousand men, viz., cheese, shoes, stockings, belts, and small clothes, besides arms and ammunition, and if that won't do I'll bring you Gully and Gregson, and the Devil is in it if they won't do!'

His new ally is grateful, and especially looks forward to the assistance of the prize-fighters: 'We thank thee, Johnny, for all thou hast brought, and if thou canst bring the other two we shall be more obliged to thee!'

John Bull has furnished his friend with a tolerably liberal outfit, piles of guns, bayonets, and swords, barrels of powder, shot galore, bales of stockings, shirts, coats, belts, shoes, with (for what reason is not shown) a marvellous selection of cheeses—Stilton, Cheshire, Gloucester, Cambridge, Yorkshire, Leicestershire, Cottenham, Bath, Wiltshire, Cream, Derbyshire, &c.; a sack of gold pieces is also included amongst the supplies: we learn that at one time, on the Peninsula, 'English guineas had no attraction, the dollar or moidore was the medium; but since guineas have been introduced in payment of the army the natives seem to appreciate their value.'

October 17, 1808. Junot disgorging his Booty. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—General Junot has been seized by a British tar, who is making the invader disgorge his plunder, consisting of utensils of gold, jewels, and specie; the Spanish Don is holding a receptacle for this costly booty in course of restitution. The French officers are stamping in despair over the disasters of their chief: 'Morbleu! comme il a mal au cœur, notre pauvre général.' Jack Tar, evidently thinking of 'the yellow boys,' is replying, 'More blue? why, ye lubber, what do ye mean by that? don't ye see it's as yellow as gold?'

November 19, 1808. The Progress of the Emperor Napoleon. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—The career of the Corsican is set forth pictorially in a progressive series of eight pictures. 'First, A ragged-headed Corsican peasant; second, Studying mischief at the Royal Military Academy at Paris; third, An humble ensign, in a Republican corps, requesting a situation in the British army; fourth, A determined atheistical Republican general ordering his men to fire on the Parisians volleys of grape-shot; fifth, A Turk at Grand Cairo; sixth, A runaway from Egypt; seventh, A devout Catholic; eighth, An Emperor on a "throne of iniquities," O tempora, O mores!' On the back of the imperial seat, on which the last step of Napoleon's progress leaves him, is posted a list of murders set down to the Corsican's account:—'Duke d'Enghien, prisoners at Jaffa, Palm, Captain Williams, Pichegru, Caton, Toussant, &c., &c.'

AN ACADEMY FOR GROWN HORSEMEN, AND ANNALS OF HORSEMANSHIP.

Communicated by Geoffrey Gambado, Esq.

Riding Master of the Horse, and Grand Equerry to the Doge of Venice.

Illustrated with plates, designed by H. Bunbury, etched by T. Rowlandson.

To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship.—Shakespeare.

GEOFFREY GAMBADO, ESQ.

'As I shall be as concise and explicit as possible in the valuable instructions and discoveries I am now about to communicate to the world, it will be the reader's own fault if he does not profitably benefit by them. When I have told him how to choose a horse, how to tackle him properly, in what sort of dress to ride him, how to ride him out, and, above all, how to ride him home again, if he is not a complete horseman in the course of ten or a dozen summers, I will be bold to foretell that neither the skill of Mr. Astley, nor the experience of Mr. John Gilpin, will ever make him one.

'Nil desperandum, me duce Teucro.

'DIRECTIONS FOR THE ROAD.

'In riding the road, observe in passing a whisky, a phaeton, or a stage-coach, in short, any carriage where the driver sits on the right hand, to pass it on that side, he may not see you on the other, and though you may meet with a lash in the eye, what is the loss of an eye to a leg, or perhaps a neck.

'Take care never to throw your horse down, it is an unlucky trick, and fit only for boys. Many gentlemen of my acquaintance, and I too, have been thrown down by our horses; yet I scarce know an instance upon record of a gentleman throwing his horse down, but many have complained to me of their servants doing it for them.

HOW TO PASS A CARRIAGE.

'In passing a waggon or any tremendous equipage, should it run pretty near a bank, and there be a ditch and an open country on the other side, if you are on business and in a hurry, dash up the bank without hesitation, for should you take the other side, and your horse shy at the carriage, you may be carried many hundred yards out of your road, whereas by a little effort of courage you need only graze the wheel, fly up the bank, and by slipping or tumbling down into the road again go little or nothing out of your way.

'ACCIDENTAL EXPERIMENTS AND EXPERIMENTAL ACCIDENTS, COMMUNICATED BY VARIOUS CORRESPONDENTS.

'Letter to Mr. G. Gambado.

'"Sir—I want your advice, and hope you will give it me concerning a horse I have lately bought, and which does not carry me at all in the same way he did the man I bought him of. Being recommended to a dealer in Moorfields (who, I think, is no honester than he ought to be), I went to him and desired to look into his stable, and so he took me in, with a long whip in his hand, which, he said, was to wake the horses that might perhaps be asleep, as they were but just arrived from a long journey, coming fresh from the breeders in the North. There were some fine-looking geldings, I thought, and I pitched upon one that I thought would suit me, and so he was saddled, and I desired the dealer to mount him, and he did, and a very fine figure the gelding cut; and so the people in the street said, and a decent man in a scratch-wig said the man who rode him knew how to make the most of him, and so I bought him. But he goes in a different manner with me, for instead of his capering like a trooper he hangs down his head and tail, and neither whip nor spur can get him out of a snail's gallop. And I want to know whether by law I must keep him, as he is certainly not the horse I took him for, and therefore I ought to have my money again.

HOW TO MAKE THE MOST OF A HORSE.

'"The limner in our lane was with me when I bought him, and has taken a picture of him as he was with the dealer on his back, and another as he now goes with me upon his back, by which you will see the difference, and judge how better to advise me upon it.

'"I am, Sir, your humble servant,

'"Tobias Higgins.
'"Lavender Row, Shoreditch."

'Mr. Gambado's Reply.

'"Sir—Upon a strict examination of the two pictures by the limner in your lane, I am clear you are in possession of the identical horse you intended to purchase, although he does not exhibit quite so much agility under you, or make so tearing a figure as when mounted by Mr. ——, who I am well acquainted with, and who, you may depend, is as honest a man as any that deals in horseflesh.

'"You could have no right to return the horse if he went no better than one with his legs tied. You stand in the predicament of Lord ——, who gave twenty guineas for Punch, and when he found he could not make him speak prosecuted the showman; but my Lord Chief Justice adjudged the man to keep his money, and my Lord his Punch, although he could not get a word out of him.

'"My opinion is, sir, as you ask it, that the decent man in the scratch-wig made a very sensible remark when he observed that my friend Mr. —— knew how to make the most of a horse, and I am satisfied that you, sir, know with equal facility how to make the least of one.

'"I am, Sir, your humble servant,

'"G. Gambado.

'"P.S.—I am sorry to add my maid tells me that two shillings out of your five were very bad ones."

HOW TO MAKE THE LEAST OF HIM.

'Letter to G. Gambado, Esq.

'"Sir—Being informed that you are now at home, and desirous of giving every information in your power to those who may stand in need of it respecting their horses, I beg leave to submit my case to you, which, considering how fond I am of the chase, you must admit to be a lamentable one. Relying, however, sir, as I do, on your philanthropy (I should more properly say Phillipigy) and that zeal in the cause which has so long characterised you, I make no doubt but the small difficulties I now labour under will be soon surmounted.

'"You must know, sir, I am very fond of hunting, and live in as fine a scenting country as any in the kingdom. The soil is pretty stiff, the leaps large and frequent, and a great deal of timber to get over. Now, sir, my brown horse is a very capital hunter, and though he is slow, and I cannot absolutely ride over the hounds (indeed the country is so enclosed that I do not see so much of them as I could wish), yet in the end he generally brings me in before the huntsman goes home with the dogs. So thus far I have no reason to complain. Now, sir, my brown horse is a noble leaper, and never gave me a fall in his life that way, but he has got an awkward trick (though he clears everything with his fore-legs in capital style) of leaving the other two on the wrong side of the fence, and if the gate or stile happens to be in a sound state, it is a work of time and trouble to get his hind-legs over. He clears a ditch finely indeed with two feet, but the others constantly fall in; that gives me a strange pain in my back like what is commonly called lumbago, and unless you kindly stand my friend, and instruct me how I am to bring these hind-legs after me, I fear I shall never get rid of it. If you please, sir, you may ride him a-hunting yourself any day you will please to appoint, and you shall be heartily welcome. You will then be better enabled to give me your advice; you can't have a proper conception of the jerks he will give you without trying him.

HOW TO DO THINGS BY HALVES.

'"I am, Sir, with due respect,

'"Your very humble servant,

'"Nic. Nutmeg, Clerk."

'The Answer.

'"Reverend Sir,—Your brown horse being so good a hunter, and, as you observe, having so fine a notion of leaping, I should be happy if I could be of any service in assisting you to make his two hind-legs follow the others, but, as you observe, they seem so very perverse and obstinate that I cherish but small hopes of prevailing upon them.

'"I have looked and found many such cases, but no cure.

'"However, in examining my papers I have found out something that may prove of service to you in your very lamentable case.

TRICKS UPON TRAVELLERS.

'"An hostler has informed me that it is a common trick played upon bagsters or London riders, when they are not generous to the servants at the inn, for a wicked boy or two to watch one of them as he turns out of the gateway, and to pop a bush or stick under his horse's tail, which he instantly brings down upon the stick, and holds it fast, kicking at the same time at such a rate as to dislodge the bagman that bestrides him. Here, sir, is a horse that lifts up his hind-legs without moving his fore ones, and just the reverse, as I may say, of yours, and perhaps the hint may be acceptable. Suppose, then, when your horse has flown over a gate or a stile in his old way, with his fore-legs only, you were to dismount and clap your whip or stick properly under his tail and then mount again, the putting him in a little motion will set him on his kicking principles in a hurry, and it's ten to one but, by this means, you get his hind-legs to follow the others. You will be able, perhaps, to extricate your stick from its place of confinement when you are up and over (if you are not down), but should you not it is but sixpence gone. I send you this as a mere surmise; perhaps it may answer, perhaps not.

'"I beg to thank you for your offer, which is a very kind one, but I beg to be excused accepting it; all my ambition being to add to the theory with as little practice as possible.

'"I am, Rev. Sir, your most humble servant,

'"G. Gambado."

'Letter to G. Gambado, Esq.

'"Good Sir,—I am in great haste, having a great quickness of pulse, and my bed being now warming, but cannot get into it without first informing you how fast I came home from market to-night, and upon my old mare, too, who was always unkind before as to going. But so it happened. The old mare, that I could never get to go above three miles an hour, as soon as ever I was up, set off, and the devil couldn't stop her till she got home—ten miles in about fifty-eight minutes. I'm in a heat yet. But I have found out her motive, and now the public may make use of it. I had bought a couple of lobsters to carry home, had their claws tied up, and put one into each of my great-coat pockets. Well, the old gentleman in my right pocket (a cunning one, I warrant him) somehow or other contrived to disengage his hands, and no doubt soon applied them to the old mare's side, and, I imagine, had got fast hold of a rib by the time I reached the first mile-stone, for she was mad, I thought, and my hat and wig were gone in a twinkle. However, when I got off, and had taken a little breath, I went into the kitchen to unload, but missed one of my lobsters; so I ran back into the stable, and there was the hero hanging at the old mare's side; she'd had enough of it, and so stood quiet.

HOW TO MAKE THE MARE TO GO.

HOW TO PREVENT A HORSE SLIPPING HIS GIRTHS.

'"I thought myself bound to inform you of this, hoping it would prove a great national discovery. I mean to keep lobsters on purpose, for it's cheaper than buying a horse instead of my old mare; and I can go faster with one of them in my pocket than I could post. When my boys come home from school, to hunt in the forest, I mean to treat each of them with a cray-fish for his pony, and then, I think, we shall head the field.

'"I am, sir, yours, ever in haste,

'"Peter Puffin."

THE APOTHEOSIS OF GEOFFREY GAMBADO, ESQ.

'Letter to Mr. G. Gambado, editor of various learned performances.

'"Sir,—You have no doubt heard of a description of Natural Philosophers, called Pigeon Fanciers, who breed the bird of that name, and all its varieties. I was once, sir, a member of this community, till growing tired of punters, tumblers, nuns, croppers, runts, &c., &c., I was resolved to enlarge my ideas, by extending my researches and abandoning the biped, to obtain a closer acquaintance with the quadruped. I became a horse-fancier. Being fond of riding, and daily observing, in my airings to Brentford, a great variety of horses, and a still greater variety in their motions, I, some years since, set about making a collection of such as were singular and eccentric in their shapes and actions, and I flatter myself no private museum can boast of a more admirable variety than I have possessed.

'"As amongst pigeons, so amongst horses, there are tumblers. The feat is, however, performed differently, and varies considerably in its effect on the performers. As the pigeon executes this without anything on its back, so the horse seldom achieves it without somebody upon his. To the latter, therefore, we must give the greatest share of merit, who ventures to perform upon a hard road what the other does only in the air, without even a cloud to brush against. The one preferring, it seems, the Milky, and the other the Highway.

'"Among horses, I have never discovered a pouter; but I have had a fine puffer. The noise he made, however, and particularly when at his business, was not pleasant; and I let a neighbour have him cheap, who had a good three-stall museum, and a very heavy vehicle to draw; so that in all weathers he might enjoy the entertainment of his very extraordinary qualifications.

THE TUMBLER, OR ITS AFFINITIES.

'"It is well known that there is a horse that is called a carrier, so there is a pigeon likewise. But as it may not be known to every one, I must inform you that from very long observation, I find the pigeon is the most expeditious of the two.

'"I am, sir, your very humble servant,

'"Benj. Buffon."

'ADVICE TO WOULD-BE HORSEMEN.

'I have given you the hints contained in my previous letters supposing you are at home enough on horseback to ride out alone, and may possibly be tempted to travel the road, as either the lucre of gain, or the universal passion, as a celebrated author calls the love of fame, may send you forth.

'Let me entreat you to examine your tackling well at setting out, particularly from an inn and after dinner. See that your girths are tight; many a good fall have I got by not attending to this. Ostlers are too apt to be careless, and ought never to be paid till we see them the next time.[7] An instance of a singular nature occurred at Huntingdon a few years since to the Rev. D. B., of Jesus College, in Cambridge, which has given a discovery to the world (productive, indeed, of a paper war), but which may turn out beneficial to mankind, as it proves 3 to be equal to 4.

HOW TO RIDE A HORSE UPON THREE LEGS.

'The Doctor dined at the "Crown"; it was dusk when he set out northwards. I myself saw 3s. charged in his bill for wine; this accounts for his want of observation. As for the ostler's, I must attribute it to his having been paid beforehand. The Doctor went off at a spurt pretty much in the manner I have recommended, and having got clear of the pavement he wished to (what is called) mend his pace; but his horse was obdurate, and all his influence could not prevail. The Doctor fancied at times he went oddly, and therefore brought to at Alconbury, five miles from Huntingdon, and alighted for an examination, when he discovered that the ostler, through inattention, had buckled up one of the horse's hind-legs in the surcingle; and to this alone he had to attribute his hobbling way of going.

'There was an ostler[8] at Barnet who was a moralist, possibly this at Huntingdon was an experimental philosopher, and thought an old member of the University the most proper subject to put his experiment in execution. It certainly answered as far as five miles; but how it would succeed in bringing horses of different forms together over Newmarket, I am not competent to determine. It seems as if one might work a lame horse thus and keep his unsound leg quiet. If this experiment has been repeated it has been in private, for I have not heard of it; and I much question if it would ever be generally adopted. When I say generally, no reflection upon general officers. A timid major, however, might keep his horse in due subjection on a review day by this method.

'Geoffrey Gambado.

DR. CASSOCK, F.R.S., INVENTOR OF THE PUZZLE FOR TUMBLE-DOWN HORSES.

'Letter to Mr. Gambado.

'"I return you my most hearty thanks for the very salutary advice you have been good enough to give me, from which I have derived much improvement, and should have acknowledged sooner had I made sufficient trial of the fine machine you recommended in such warm terms. My hobby, as I told you before, is an admirable animal, and finely calculated for a pensive man like myself to take the air upon. It was a pity he was prone to tumble, and that, too, in stony roads the most, for he was otherwise bordering on perfection. So I sent for a carpenter on the receipt of your recipe, and had a large puzzle of oak made for him, after the pattern of those worn by the Squire's pointers, and I have found it answer prodigiously.

'"I have had nothing like a bad fall lately, except one day in cantering over a ploughed field, where, upon a blunder, the machine entered the ground with such force as to introduce a portion of the hobby's head along with it. We came clean over, and for some time I thought my hobby's neck was broken. I did not mind it myself; but I shall take care in future always to gallop on the hard road, and then such another catastrophe cannot ensue.

'"I am, sir,

'"Your very obsequious humble servant,

'"Caleb Cassock.

'" P.S.—I forgot to tell you my parishioners stare at me a good deal. The machine has an odd appearance, I own, but not altogether unpicturesque. I got the drawing master of Mr. Birch's school to send you a sketch of us. It is esteemed a likeness. That of the hobby is rather flattering."

'My Remarks.

'"I am happy to find the puzzle has answered so well; and I doubt not now it has been tried and approved by such a right-headed reverend gentleman, one who is also so good a horseman, and understands all the matter so well, that, by producing his name, I shall be able to get a patent for it, which cannot but prove very lucrative, for who has the horse that he will swear will never tumble down?

'"This I believe would be a question that would pose (upon oath) every man on horseback in Hyde Park on a Sunday.

'"Though Dr. Shaw, who is a great traveller indeed, has the modesty to assure us that the Barbary horses never lie down; yet even he has not the effrontery to say that they never tumble down!

'"G. G."

'To G. Gambado, Esq.

'"Sir,—Hearing much of your knowledge in horses, I beg leave to ask your advice in a business where my delicacy, as a gentleman, is deeply concerned, and flatter myself that you will sensibly feel for my situation, my future fortune in life depending on your decision. I have the happiness to be well received by a young lady of fortune in this town, who rides out every morning, and has had the goodness to permit me to join her for some days past. I flatter myself I am beloved, but, sir, the horse I ride is my father's, and he will not allow me to part with him: and this horse, sir, has an infirmity of such an embarrassing nature, that our interviews are unpleasantly interrupted at frequent intervals, and my dear Miss S—— will perhaps ride away with some other gownsman who is more decently mounted.

'"Be pleased, sir, to send me a recipe for this complaint, or I may lose my dear girl for ever. I have tried several experiments, but all in vain, and unless you stand my friend I shall go distracted.

'"I am, dear Sir, in a great fuss, yours most truly,

'"George Gillyflower.
'"St. John's Coll. Cam."

'JUVENUM PULCHERRIMUS ALTER,

ALTERA QUAS ORIENS HABUIT PRÆLATA PUELLIS.'—OVID.

'Note from my Farrier to the above.

'"Honoured Sir,—By advice from Mr. Gambado of your horse's complaint, I have sent you a powder so strong, that, if administered night and morning in his corn, I will be bold to say, no horse in England shall ever suffer from the like again after Thursday next. Shall be very thankful for your Honour's custom in the same way in future, and your lady's too, if agreeable; being, Honoured Sir,

'"Your servant to command,

'"Jo. Wood".

HOW TO TRAVEL UPON TWO LEGS IN A FROST.

'To Geoffrey Gambado, Esq.

'"Kind Sir,—I have an extraordinary story to tell you, that happened to me t'other day, as I was bringing two pair of stays to Miss Philpot's, at Kentishtown. I lives, sir, at Finchley; and a-top of Highgate Hill, my horse makes a kind of slip with his hind feet, do you see, for it was for all the world like a bit of ice the whole road. I'd nothing for't but to hold fast round his neck, and to squeeze me elbows in to keep the stays safe; and egad, off we set, and never stopt till I got to the bottom. He never moved a leg didn't my horse, but slided promiscuously, as I may say, till he oversate somebody on the road; I was too flurrisome to see who: and the first body I see'd it was a poor man axing charity in a hat. My horse must have had a rare bit of bone in his back, and I sit him as stiff as buckram.

'"Your honor's obedient servant,

'"James Jumps."'

The Art of ingeniously tormenting, with five plates by Woodward and Rowlandson (Tegg).

The Caricature Magazine, or Hudibrastic Mirror, in numbers.

THE CARICATURE MAGAZINE OR MIRROR OF MIRTH
BEING A COLLECTION OF HUMOROUS AND SATIRICAL CARICATURES
DESIGNED AND ENGRAVED
By THOMAS ROWLANDSON, Esq.
LONDON
PUBLISHED BY THOMAS TEGG
111 CHEAPSIDE

The Beauties of Tom Brown, embellished with engravings by Rowlandson, one vol.

1808. Chesterfield Travestie, or School for Modern Manners, embellished with ten caricatures. Engraved by Rowlandson from original drawings by Woodward. Published by Thomas Tegg, 111 Cheapside, 1808. Republished under the title of Chesterfield Burlesque, 1811.

Mottoes.

The better sort should have before 'em A grace, a manner, a decorum.—Butler.

O tempora! O mores!—Juvenal.

The times are out of joint, O cursed spite, That ever I was born to set them right.-Shakespeare.

• Folding plate to face the title.
• Votaries of Fashion in the Temple of Folly.
• How to walk the Streets.
• The Art of Quizzing.
• How to keep up a conversation with yourself in the Public Streets.
• How to break a shop window with an umbrella.
• Behaviour at table.
• Notoriety, Singularity, Whimsical.
• Gentleman and Mad Author.

'I will allow you twelve shillings a week to be my amanuensis!—What do you think of that?'

How to look over your husband's hand while at cards, and find fault with him for losing.

The Nobleman and the little Shopkeeper.

Chesterfield Travestie, or School for Modern Manners.

1. How to keep up a conversation with yourself in the public streets.—An absent-minded orator (passing the Forum Debating Society), is rehearsing, with lavish declamatory action, his peroration to the amazement and alarm of the passers-by.

2. Notoriety.—A buck in a Jean-de-Brie. Singularity.—An antiquarian oddity in the costume of three-quarters of a century earlier than the fashion prevailing at the date of the drawing. Whimsical.—A dwarf of a woman wearing a cloak down to her toes, and peaked poke head-dress.

3. The Art of Quizzing.—Three dandies are promenading arm-in-arm, and unceremoniously criticising aloud a fine and pretty woman, who is walking with a 'squab-old-put': 'D——d fine woman, pon honour, but what a quiz of a fellow she has taken in tow there!'

August 25, 1808. Behaviour at Table. Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—The author offers four excellent directions touching the genteel 'behaviour expected at table,' and if his injunctions were strictly carried out, there is no question that his pupils would be accepted in every society as remarkably polished and well-bred young gentlemen, who had studied Lord Chesterfield's 'advice' to some purpose; perfect ornaments, indeed, to any company amongst which they might find themselves, and desirable patterns for imitation.

• 1. Place your elbows on the table like a Church Warden at a parish vestry.
• 2. Stretch your arms across the table to get at what best suits your appetite.
• 3. Cough and yawn over the dishes.
• 4. Loll on two chairs while making use of your toothpick.

BEHAVIOUR AT TABLE.

1808. A Lecture on Heads, by G. A. Stevens,[9] with additions as delivered by Mr. Charles Lee Lewis, embellished with twenty-five humorous characteristic prints, from drawings by George Moutard Woodward Esq. Engraved by Thomas Rowlandson. Published by T. Tegg.

Frontispiece: Interior of Covent Garden Theatre. C. Lee Lewis delivering 'A Lecture on Heads' to a crowded audience.

• Sir Whisky Whiffle.
• Jockey.
• Half Foolish Face.
• Drunken Head.
• A Freeholder.
• Female Moderator.
• Master Jacky.
• London Blood.
• A Lady of the Town.
• A Connoisseur.
• A worldly-wise man; or a man wise in his own conceit.
• Male Moderator.
• Italian Singer.
• An Old Maid.
• An Old Bachelor.
• The Crying Philosopher.
• Counsellor.
• Frenchman.
• British Sailor.
• Spaniard.
• Dutchman.
• Politician.
• Methodist Preacher.

1808. British Sailor. Frenchman. Spaniard. Dutchman. Four characters on a sheet, published by T. Tegg.—The same etchings are given, under similar descriptions, in the 'Lecture on Heads,' by G. A. Stevens, with illustrations by G. M. Woodward, engraved by T. Rowlandson.

December 1, 1808. Miseries of Human Life (Plates issued in previous years and collected in 1808). Designed and etched by T. Rowlandson, and published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—Frontispiece: The title in a frame; below it a gouty old miser, wrapped in flannel, is being dragged off in his chair by Death, in spite of his crutch and his struggles to get back to his riches, spread in the strong box, over which he has lost all control; his heirs in the meantime are helping themselves, making light of his hoarded savings, and taunting the impotent money-grubber, who has accumulated riches for them to fling away.

Miseries of Human Life.—Introductory dialogue: 'Sickness befriends temperance by the simplicity of diet which it introduces; it wards off the varied injuries of the open air by requiring the party to inhale a thousand times over, the cherishing, equable, and safely treasured atmosphere of a chamber.'

The picture treats all these fanciful advantages from a burlesque point of view: a sufferer is on his pallet surrounded by all the inconveniences of washing, cooking, and other domestic arrangements, limited to one apartment, to serve him as 'kitchen, parlour, and bed-room, and all.'

Miseries of the Country.—Following on horseback a slow cart, through an endless narrow lane, at sunset, when you are already too late, and want all the help of your own eyes, as well as your horse's feet to carry you safe through the rest of your unknown way.

More Miseries.—'Being overpersuaded to stand up in a country dance, when you know, or, what is equally bad, conceive that a bear would eclipse you in grace and agility.' (April 1, 1807.)

Fabricious's Description of the Poets. Vide 'Gil Blas.'—'People think that we often dine with Democritus, and there they are mistaken. There is not one of my fraternity, not even excepting the makers of Almanacs, who is not welcome to some good table. As for my own part, there are two families where I am received with pleasure. I have two covers laid for me every day, one at the house of a fat director of the farms, to whom I have dedicated a romance, and the other at the house of a rich citizen, who has the disease of being thought to entertain wits every day at his table; luckily he is not very delicate in his choice, and the city furnishes him with great plenty.' (1807.)

Miseries of Human Life.—Struggling through the curse of trying to disentangle your hair, when by poking curiously about on board of ship it has become clammed and matted with pitch or tar, far beyond all the powers of the comb. (1807.)

More Miseries.—Having so flaccid a cheek that the parish barber, who shaves you, is obliged to introduce his thumb into your mouth to give it a proper projection, cutting his thumb in this position with the razor. (1807.)

Miseries of Social Life.—Escorting four or five country cousins, on their first importation into London from the Terra Incognita of England, to the lions, the waxworks, the monuments, &c. &c.

Miseries Miscellaneous.—Stepping out of a boat at low water on a slippery causeway, upon a stone which slides under you, and you descend in the mud up to the chin. (1807.)

A Stag at Bay, or Conjugal Felicity. A Romance.—A matrimonial dispute; the wife is attacking her spouse incontinently, and he is protecting himself, and keeping the aggressor at arm's length with a dirty mop.

The Shaver and the Shavee. H. Bunbury del., Rowlandson sc.

Showing off.—A pair of horsemen are endeavouring to put on a sportsmanlike appearance, which is somewhat disturbed by the restiveness of their steeds; one rider is slipping off, and the other, while his horse is going down on his knees in a reverential posture, is flung over the animal's head.

The Production of a Post-House.—The stable-door of a post-house is opened, and a sorry broken-kneed ramshackle horse is trotted out, to the amusement of the people standing about, and to the horror of a gentleman who has evidently come for a mount.

Symptoms of Choking.—A corpulent individual has suddenly left the dinner-table, under an impulse to choke; the rest of the company are thrown into such alarm at his critical situation, that the table-cloth, soup-turreens, wine, decanters, plates, glasses, and all the service are dragged on to the floor in universal destruction. (1806.)

The Enraged Vicar.—A smaller version of this subject (see March 1, 1807).

To see them rattle, howl, and tear, By Jove, 'twould make a parson swear.

Symptoms of Restiveness.—The restiveness referred to appears to be nothing more than a tendency to rest in one spot; a sailor, probably at Portsmouth, from the view of the sea and shipping, is mounted on a steed which he is vainly belabouring with a cudgel, while an old hag is banging away at the poor brute with a long and heavy broom, to the delight of a convivial party, assembled to drink outside a public-house, within view of the dilemma. (1808.)

Pall Mall.

O bear me to the paths of fair Pall Mall, Safe are thy pavements, grateful is thy smell; At distance rolls along the gilded coach, Nor sturdy carmen on thy walks encroach. (1807.)

Miseries of Public Places.—After the play, on a raw, wet night, with a party of ladies, fretting and freezing in the outer lobbies and at the street-doors of the theatre, among chairmen, barrow-women, yelling linkboys, and other human refuse, in endless attempts to find out your servant or carriage, which, when found out at last, cannot be drawn up nearer than a furlong from the door. (January 1, 1807.)

Miseries Miscellaneous.—The necessity of sending a verbal message of the utmost consequence by an ass, who, you plainly perceive, will forget (or rather has already forgotten) every word you have been saying. (January 1, 1807.)

Miseries of Reading and Writing.—As you are writing drowsily by the fire, on rousing and recollecting yourself, find your guardian in possession of your secret thoughts, which he never ceases to upbraid you with. (January 1, 1807.)

Miseries Personal.—When in the gout receiving the ruinous salutation of a muscular friend (a sea captain), who, seizing your hand in the first transports of a sudden meeting, affectionately crumbles your chalky knuckles with the gripe of a grasping-iron, and then further confirms his regard for you by greeting your tenderest toe with the stamp of a charger. (January 1, 1807.)

Miseries of the Country.—While you are out with a walking party, after heavy rains, one shoe suddenly sucked off by the boggy clay, and then, in making a long and desperate stretch (which fails), with the hope of recovering it, the other is left in the same predicament. The second stage of ruin is that of standing, or rather tottering in blank despair, with both bare feet planted ankle-deep in the quagmire. (January 1, 1806.)

Miseries of London.—Chasing your hat (just blown off in a high wind) through a muddy street—a fresh gust always whisking it away at the moment of seizing it; when you have at last caught it deliberately putting it on, with all its sins upon your head, amidst the jeers of the populace. (January 1, 1807.)

Miseries of Travelling. 'O Miserabile mihi.' Published by T. Rowlandson, Adelphi.—A restive horse in a gig backing into the windows of a potter's shop; alarmed at the terrific crash, you become panic-struck, with the perspiration starting from every pore. (April 12, 1807.)

Miseries of Travelling.—Being mounted on a beast who, as soon as you have watered him on the road, proceeds very coolly to repose himself in the middle of the pond, without taking you at all into his counsel or paying the slightest attention to your remonstrances. (1807.)

Miseries of Social Life.—Sitting for hours before a smoky chimney, like a Hottentot in a kraal; then, just as your sufferings seem at last to be at an end, puff, puff, whiff, whiff, again, far more furious than ever. Add to this a scolding wife. (January 1, 1807.)

Miseries of Social Life.—Walking in a wind that cuts to the bone, with a narrating companion, whose mind and body cannot move at the same time; or, in other words, who, as he gets on with his stories, thinks it necessary, at every other sentence, to stand stock-still, face about, and make you do the same; then, totally regardless of your shivering impatience to push on, refuses to stir an inch till the whole of his endless thread is fairly wound out. 'Dixit et adversi stetit ora.' (1807.)

Miseries of the Country.—Losing your way on foot at night in a storm of wind and rain, and this immediately after leaving a merry fireside. (1806.)

More Miseries.—Being nervous and cross-examined by Mr. Garrow (in a Law Court). (April 1, 1807.)

More Miseries.—Endeavouring to make violent love under the table and pressing the wrong foot. (April 1, 1807.)

More Miseries.—Sitting on a chair which a servant has fractured and put together the preceding morning, and upon attempting to lean back falling to the ground before a large party; a country servant bursting into a roar of laughter. (April 1, 1807.)

More Miseries.—Being obliged to kiss a remarkably plain woman at forfeits, when you engaged in the pastime only with the hope of being able to salute a lovely young lady, to whom you are particularly attached. (April 1, 1807.)

Miseries of Travelling.—Starting for a long ride, on a dinner engagement, without a great-coat, in a mist, a mizzle, a drizzle, a rain, a torrent. On arriving at the house at last, completely drenched, you have to beg the favour of making yourself look like a full or empty sack, by wearing your host's clothes, he being either a dwarf or a giant, and you the contrary. (January 1, 1807.)

Miseries of Games, Sports, &c.—In skating, slipping in such a manner that your legs start off in this unaccommodating posture; from which, however, you are soon relieved by tumbling forwards on your nose, or backwards on your skull. Also learning to cut the outside edge on skates that have no edge to cut with—ice very rugged. (January 1, 1807.)

More Miseries.—In the country, going to a party to dinner, getting very tipsy, quitting the house in a dark night, and getting upon your horse with your face towards the tail, and wondering during the few minutes that you are able to keep your seat, amidst the jeers of your companions, what freak can have entered the brain of the beast to go backwards. (April 1, 1807.)

Miseries of the Table.—Inviting a friend, whom you know to be particularly fond of the dish, to partake of a fine hare, haunch, &c., which you have endeavoured to keep exactly to the critical moment, but which is no sooner brought in than the whole party, with one nose, order it to be taken out. (1807.)

More Miseries.—At an inn, going into a bed too short, with a wooden leg, which you were too fatigued to unstrap, drawing up the living one, going to sleep with the other sticking out at the bottom, which, when the chambermaid comes in for the candle, she conceives to be the handle of the warming-pan, which she has carelessly left in the bed. (April 1, 1807.)

More Miseries.—Sending a challenge, requesting a timid friend to attend you to the field, who, you think, will not fail to acquaint the magistrate of it; going with honour to the appointed spot, anxiously looking back at every step to see if the Bow Street officers are coming, without seeing a soul but your antagonist and the seconds. (April 1, 1807.)

Miseries Domestic.—Squatting plump on an unsuspected cat in your chair. (January 1, 1807.)

More Miseries.—Being persuaded to put your finger into the cage of a parrot and to rub its poll, upon an assurance, from its doating mistress, that it is the most gentle bird in the universe, suddenly feeling the sanguinary effects of its beak. (April 1, 1807.)

More Miseries.—Having a newly-rolled gravel walk, finding some friends whom you had asked to dine with you amusing themselves before dinner by drawing each other in your child's chaise, which disastrously stood at the bottom of the garden, within sight; seeing the narrow wheels cut up the walk most unmercifully, and being deterred by a false notion of politeness from giving them a hint to desist. (April 1, 1807.)

Cold Broth and Calamity.—A smaller edition of this subject, the disasters of various parties on the ice, but treated with perfect originality as regards the various incidents.

Miseries Domestic.—Waking in the middle of the night in a state of raging thirst, eagerly blundering to the washing-stand, and there finding the broad-mouthed pitcher, which you lift to your lips, so full that, besides amply satisfying your thirst, it keeps cooling your heated body, and purifying your linen with the overplus. (1806.)

Miseries of the Country. Published by T. Rowlandson, Adelphi.—Passing the worst part of a rainy winter in a country so inveterately miry as to imprison you within your own premises; so that by way of exercise, and to keep yourself alive, you take to rolling your gravel walks (though already quite smooth), cutting wood (though you have more logs than enough), working the dumb-bells, or such other irrational exercise. (April 12, 1807.)

Miseries of the Country.—While deeply, delightfully, and, as you hope, safely engaged at home in the morning, after peremptory orders of denial to all comers whomsoever, to be suddenly surprised, through the treachery or folly of your servant, by an inroad from a party of the starched, stupid, cold, idle natives of a country town, who lay a formal siege (by sap) to your leisure. (1807.)

Miseries of London.—Being a compulsory spectator and auditor of a brawling and scratching match between two drunken drabs, in consequence of the sudden influx of company, by whom you are hemmed in a hundred yards deep in every direction, leaving you no chance of escape till the difference of sentiment between the ladies is adjusted. Where you stand you are (that is, I was) closely bounded in front by a barrow of cat's meat, the unutterable contents of which employ your eyes and nose, while your ear is no less fully engaged by the Tartarean yell of its driver. (1807.)

Miseries of Travelling.—On packing up your clothes for a journey, because your servant is a fool, the burning fever into which you are thrown when, after all your standing, stamping, kneeling, tugging, and kicking, the lid of your trunk refuses to approach within a yard of the lock. (1807.)

More Miseries. Published by R. Ackermann.—Being pinned up to a door, round the neck, by the horns of an enraged overdriven ox. (April 1, 1807.)

Miseries of the Country.—While on a visit in the Hundred of Essex being under the necessity of getting dead-drunk every day to save your life. (See 1807, p. 78.)

Et propter vitam vivendi perdere causas....

Miseries of Social Life.—Dining and passing the whole evening with a party of fox-hunters, after they have had what they call 'glorious sport;' and, while you execrate the very name of a hound, being gorged with the crambe recocta of one chase after another, till you wish the country was underground. (January 1, 1807.)

THE MICROCOSM OF LONDON,

OR

LONDON IN MINIATURE.

With Illustrations by Pugin and Rowlandson.

Published by R. Ackermann, Repository of Arts, 101 Strand.

With reference to the illustrations, which form the principal feature of this work, we borrow a paragraph from the 'Introduction':—

'The great objection that men fond of the fine arts have hitherto made to engravings on architectural subjects has been that the buildings and figures have almost invariably been designed by the same artists. In consequence of this the figures have been generally neglected, or are of a very inferior cast, and totally unconnected with the other part of the print; so that we may sometimes see men and women in English dresses delineated in an English view of an Italian palace, and Spanish grandees in long cloaks and ladies in veils seated in one of our own cathedrals.

The dress, we know, is neither new nor rare; But how the powers came it there?

'To remove these glaring incongruities from the publication, a strict attention has been paid, not only to the country of the figures introduced in the different buildings, but to the general air and peculiar carriage, habits, &c., of such characters as are likely to make up the majority in particular places.

'The architectural part of the subjects that are contained in this work will be delineated, with the utmost precision and care, by Mr. Pugin, whose uncommon accuracy and elegant taste have been displayed in former productions. With respect to the figures, they are from the pencil of Mr. Rowlandson, with whose professional talents the public are already so well acquainted that it is not necessary to expatiate on them here. As the following list comprises almost every variety of character that is found in this great metropolis, there will be ample scope for the exertion of his abilities; and it will be found that his powers are not confined to the ludicrous, but that he can vary with his subject, and, wherever it is necessary, descend

From grave to gay, from lively to severe.'

Rowlandson and Pugin del. et sc.

• 1. Drawing from Life at the Royal Academy, Somerset House.
• 2. Exhibition Room, Somerset House. Great Room at the Royal Academy, at the time of the annual picture Exhibition.
• 3. Board Room of the Admiralty, Parliament Street.
• 4. A View of Astley's Amphitheatre, Westminster Bridge.
• 5. The Asylum, or House of Refuge for Friendless and Deserted Girls, Lambeth.
• 6. Christie's Auction Room.
• 7. The Great Hall, Bank of England.
• 8. Bartholomew Fair, Smithfield.
• 9. Billingsgate Market.
• 10. The Hall, Blue Coat School, during the orations on the grand anniversary, St. Matthew's Day, September 21.
• 11. Bow Street Office. An Examination before the Magistrates.
• 12. Pass Room, Bridewell.
• 13. British Institution, Pall Mall (late Alderman Boydell's 'Shakespeare Gallery').
• 14. The Hall and Staircase, British Museum, Montague House.
• 15. The Great Hall, Carlton House, Pall Mall.
• 16. The Roman Catholic Chapel, Lincoln's Inn Fields.
• 17. Coal Exchange.
• 18. The Royal Cockpit, Bird Cage Walk, St. James's Park.
• 19. Water Engine, Coldbath Fields Prison.
• 20. The College of Physicians, Warwick Lane.
• 21. House of Commons. (During a Debate.)
• 22. Court of Chancery, Lincoln's Inn Hall.
• 23. Court of Common Pleas, Westminster Hall.
• 24. Court of King's Bench, Westminster Hall.
• 25. Court of Exchequer, Westminster Hall.
• 26. Covent Garden Market. Westminster Election. Hustings in front of St. Paul's Church.
• 27. Covent Garden Theatre. (During the performance of an Oratorio.)
• 28. The Custom House, from the Thames.
• 29. The Long Room, Custom House.
• 30. The Debating Society (the Athenian Lyceum), Piccadilly.
• 31. Doctors' Commons (Great Rider Street, St. Paul's.)
• 32. Drury Lane Theatre.
• 33. The Corn Exchange, Mark Lane.
• 34. Exhibition of the Society of Painters in Water Colours, Old Bond Street.
• 35. Fire in London. (Albion Mills, Surrey side of Blackfriars Bridge; burnt March 3, 1791.)
• 36. Fleet Prison (the Debtors' Prison, as rebuilt after the riots in 1780), Ludgate Hill.
• 37. Foundling Hospital. (The Chapel.)
• 38. Freemasons' Hall (Freemasons' Tavern), Great Queen Street.
• 39. Great Subscription Room at Brooks', St. James's Street.
• 40. Guildhall.
• 41. Guildhall, Court of King's Bench. Examination of a Bankrupt before his Creditors.
• 42. Common Council Chamber, Guildhall.
• 43. The Hall, Heralds' Office, or the College of Arms, St. Benet's Hill, Doctors' Commons.
• 44. Middlesex Hospital, Charles Street (Ward Room).
• 45. East India Company. The Sale Room.
• 46. King's Bench Prison (Debtors, &c.), St. George's Fields.
• 47. King's Mews, Charing Cross.
• 48. Lambeth Palace, 1809.
• 49. Lloyd's Subscription Room. (Underwriters' Room.)
• 50. Leadenhall Market.
• 51. Egyptian Hall, Mansion House.
• 52. House of Lords.
• 53. Lottery Drawing, Coopers' Hall.
• 54. Magdalen Chapel, Magdalen House.
• 55. The Mint. Stamping the Impression (Tower).
• 56. Mounting Guard at St. James's Park (Horse Guards).
• 57. Newgate Chapel. ('The Condemned Sermon.')
• 58. Old Bailey. (Examination of a Witness.)
• 59. Opera House, Haymarket. (A Ballet Scene.)
• 60. The Pantheon. (A Masquerade.)
• 61. The Philanthropic Society's Chapel (St. George's Fields).
• 62. The Pillory, Charing Cross.
• 63. The Post Office, Lombard Street. (Sorting Office.)
• 64. Quakers' Meeting (Bishopsgate Street).
• 65. The Queen's Palace, St. James's Park. (Buckingham House.)
• 66. The Royal Circus, St. George's Fields.
• 67. The Royal Exchange.
• 68. Library of the Royal Institution, Albemarle Street.
• 69. Sadler's Well Theatre. (An Aquatic Representation.)
• 70. Sessions' House, Clerkenwell.
• 71. Society for the Encouragement of the Arts, &c., Adelphi.
• 72. Society of Agriculture, Sackville Street, Piccadilly. (An assembly of members in the Great Room.)
• 73. Somerset House, Strand.
• 74. Stamp Office, Somerset House.
• 75. Stock Exchange, Capel Court, Bartholomew Lane.
• 76. Drawing Room, St. James's Street.
• 77. St. Luke's Hospital, Old Street.
• 78. St. Margaret's Church, Westminster.
• 79. The Church of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields.
• 80. St. Paul's Cathedral.
• 81. Surrey Institution. Lecture Theatre.
• 82. Synagogue, Duke's Place, Houndsditch.
• 83. Tattersall's Horse Repository, Hyde Park Corner.
• 84. The Temple Church.
• 85. View of the Tower of London.
• 86. Horse Armoury, Tower.
• 87. The Board of Trade, Treasury, Whitehall.
• 88. Trinity House, Great Tower Hill.
• 89. Vauxhall Gardens. (The Orchestra.)
• 90. Church of St. Stephen, Walbrook.
• 91. The Watch House, St. Mary-le-Bone.
• 92. West India Docks.
• 93. Westminster Abbey.
• 94. Westminster Hall.
• 95. Chapel Royal, Whitehall.
• 96. The Workhouse, St. James's Parish.
• 97. Greenwich Hospital. The Painted Hall.
• 98. The Hall, Chelsea Hospital.
• 99. Military College, Chelsea.
• 100. Covent Garden Theatre.
• 101. South Sea House. Dividend Day.
• 102. Excise Office, Broad Street.
• 103. View of Westminster Hall and Bridge.
• 104. A View of London and the Thames. Taken opposite the Adelphi.

1808 and 1809. An Essay on the Art of Ingeniously Tormenting. Illustrated with five prints. From designs by G. M. Woodward, Esq. (author of 'Eccentric Excursions'). Rowlandson, sc. 12mo. London. Printed for Thomas Tegg.

I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen; More clamorous than a parrot against rain; More new-fangled than an ape; And more giddy in my desires than a monkey.—Shakespeare.

Folding frontispiece.—A Savoyard with a barrel-organ and a troupe of dancing dogs; a Frenchman with a dancing bear; a showman dragging about a dromedary, with a monkey perched on its hump, and pulling the animal's ears. A bird made to fire off a gun, in the rear of a half-starved individual who is lost in hungry longing outside the window of an eating-house; while the proprietor is taunting the famished gazer with a huge round of beef. A cat is torturing a mouse. A woman is eavesdropping. Another cat is getting a bird out of a cage. A woman is emptying a vessel over the heads of a crowd gathered round a tussle. A cat is launched in the air on bladders. A pair of ruffians are racing on donkeys, and flogging the beasts unmercifully. All these episodes set forth various phases of the fine art of Tormenting.

1. A old vixen is tormenting a pretty maid, who is in tears: 'Don't cry, child. You cannot help being handsome; but I assure you I have often wept from my dreadful apprehensions for you, lest you should come to walk London streets!'

2. A family scene.

Train up a child in the way it should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.

Solomon.

Two children have strung up a pair of kittens by their tails; the tabbies are clawing one another in the air. Two boys have tied a saucepan to the tail of a frightened dog, and a little girl is singeing a cat's whiskers with a brand from the fire. The father is smoking his pipe and declaring, 'Dear little innocents, how prettily they amuse themselves!' while the mother is made to say, 'I love to see children employed!'

3. A husband, with literary tastes, is vainly trying to interest his lady in his reading: 'Now, my dear, now for the passage; I am sure it will delight you. Shakespeare, "Tempest," act the fifth. "The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces——"' The wife is bouncing up to the bell, although there is a blazing fire, interrupting the reading with, 'I wonder the girl don't bring the coals, one might as well sit in an ice house, but I was born to be tormented!'

4. An old curmudgeon is seated in his armchair, a decanter of wine before him, with a chart of the gold mines of Peru and Mexico at his back; a young gentleman, who has been unfortunate, is standing before him in an attitude of despondency, little encouraged by the friendly advice of the hunks whose assistance he has vainly implored: 'Ah, my young friend, I told you what it would all come to, but you have brought it all on yourself. I'll not ask you to sit down, because you seem in a hurry; however, I'll give you my advice: as you say you are not worth a guinea, I'd advise you to quit London, and purchase a small estate in the country!'

1809.

The Discovery. Etched by Rowlandson, 1798. Republished, Jan. 1808–9.

January 15, 1809. The Head of the Family in Good Humour. Published by Tegg, Woodward del., Rowlandson sc.—John Bull, a very giant among a race of pigmies, is surrounded by the heads of the different states, who are all hurling out threats against his chances of peace. Napoleon is thundering for Ships, Colonies, and Commerce. The Muscovite is denouncing: 'Russian vengeance attend John Bull.' Holland is blustering: 'I'll eternally smoke him.' Tom Paine is offering this warning: 'Let him tremble at the name of America.' The other potentates are following up these threats with valedictions of their own: 'Beware of Prussia;' 'Austria will never pardon him;' 'Spanish fury overtake him;' and 'Let him beware of Denmark.' John Bull is smiling good-naturedly at all these empty vapourings: 'Don't make such a riot, you little noisy brats, all your bustle to me is no more than a storm in a teacup!'

January 15, 1809. The Old Woman's Complaint, or the Greek Alphabet. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—An old country dame has called upon a pedagogue, with a fanciful grievance, to make respectful complaints against the dominie's scholars, who, cap in hand, and satchel on back, are making their entrance into the learned presence, behind their accuser. The schoolmaster, who wears a red night-cap, and slippers, is made to say: 'Good woman, you are always making complaints against my scholars; what have they done to offend you now?' 'Please your honour's worship, they followed me up and down, and said one to another, at her, beat her, damn her, pelt her! and a great deal more that I do not recollect.' The young pupils are explaining the old lady's misconception: 'Indeed, sir, we were only repeating our Greek alphabet, in order to get it quite perfect; what the old woman heard was only Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and so on to the conclusion!'

February 1, 1809. A Traveller refreshed in a Stagnant Pool, after the Fatigues of a Dusty Day's Journey. Published by R. Ackermann, Strand.

February 1, 1809. Mrs. Bundle in a Rage; or too late for the Stage. Published by R. Ackermann, Strand.

February 1, 1809. Launching a Frigate. Newton del., Rowlandson fecit. Published by T. Tegg, 67 Cheapside.—A trim nymph, very fashionably dressed, is starting on her travels from an hotel, situated, as we recognise, from the notice on the wall, near Portsmouth Dock. The figure of the promenader is drawn with care, and is perfectly in Rowlandson's most telling manner; behind the curled, feathered, and blooming damsel, is an ancient and colossal harridan, bedizened with showy finery, who is supposed to have launched the fair charmer. Characteristic glimpses of Portsmouth are given in the background of the picture.

March 20, 1809. A Mad Dog in a Coffee House. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.—The advent of a nondescript animal, supposititiously assumed to be a ferocious mad dog, has produced the utmost terror and confusion amongst the grave frequenters of a mercantile coffee-house, somewhat after the model of Garraway's. All the city brokers, and pillars of 'change found therein, are scared out of their sober senses; some, like the little Jew in the corner, are paralysed with fear; others are trying to creep under the tables; a few are seeking escape by the door, which they are effectually blocking; and groups of affrighted fugitives are endeavouring to gain the refuge of the staircase. A select knot have made for the bar, and are flinging themselves pell-mell over the counter; the chimney, and similar places of refuge, are eagerly sought; tables are mounted; comfortable citizens are thrown on their backs, like turtles, and trodden on, while the pressure of viler bodies above is expressing a stream of specie from the well-filled pockets of the overthrown. A cat, her tail swollen to abnormal proportions, is making a frantic rush into the midst of the cowering poltroons under the table. Rowlandson generally manages to introduce certain advertisements appropriate to his subjects, and a notice stuck on the wall of the coffee-house conveys the following piece of shipping intelligence: For the Brazils, 'The Cerberus,' Captain Pointer. Burden 300 tons. Laying off Barking Creek. Enquire of Benjamin Bell, Barge Yard, Broker.

A MAD DOG IN A COFFEE HOUSE.

1809. Disappointed Epicures. Another version of A Mad Dog in a Dining-room.—In this case the dog has run between the legs of a man bringing in a dish of cutlets, which bestrew the carpet; his downfall has in turn overset another retainer, whose soup tureen has come to grief; the butler, more engaged in watching the calamities of his fellows, has allowed the 'spruce beer' to escape in a shower of froth all over the place. The scene is well worked out; over the door of the dining-room is a picture representing a party of corpulent friars seated round a refectory board. The faces of the party—it is a bachelor-dinner in this instance—express more annoyance than alarm; they are dejected at the prospect of a curtailed repast.

1809. A Mad Dog in a Dining-room, or Disappointed Epicures.—This print, which has never before been engraved in its present form, is a literal reproduction of the original study; one of the collection of drawings by Rowlandson in the possession of the present writer. The picture tells its own story so graphically, that it is unnecessary to attempt any fuller elucidation of the subject.

A MAD DOG IN A DINING-ROOM.

April 21, 1809. The Comforts of Matrimony. A Good Toast. Published by Reeve and Jones.—The picture represents a scene of domestic felicity of the most touching completeness. The husband is browning a muffin for tea; his wife's arm is wound round his neck during this delicate operation; his children are enjoying their peaceful meal; an infant is tranquilly slumbering in the cradle; and a cat, surrounded by her family of kittens, carries out the unity of the subject. Another of the series partly published in 1808, in which a rude facsimile of the original drawings has been attempted, without much success.

The Tables Turned. Miseries of Wedlock. A pendant to the preceding.—The domestic horizon is clouded by storms. The late happy pair are only kept from demolishing each other by the table placed between them, which is being wrecked in the struggle. The wife, in a fury, is holding on to her husband's hair with all her force, while he has a firm grasp of his unfortunate spouse's head, at which he is aiming a pewter-pot; children, chairs, crockery, cutlery, and food, are alike devoted to destruction; the infants are frantic, and general misery prevails. The execution of these subjects is commonplace, and the engraver has not done justice to the originals.

April 29, 1809. Oh! you're a Devil. Get along, do! Published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street, New Bond Street.—A dashing young officer, a gallant adventurer, probably crippled with debts, and with nothing but his commission to support his extravagances, is laying ardent siege to the ordinary person of a rich dowager, fat, not fair, and decidedly forty; indeed, the lady is more than old enough to be the mother of her insidious admirer, who is probably looking forward to the possession of the foolish inamorata's fortune to 'whitewash' his liabilities, and exchange him from one slavery to another; preferring the fetters of Hymen to the captivity of a debtor's prison. The lady, a vain piece of antiquated and frivolous vulgarity, is loaded with massive jewellery, which her hopeful lover no doubt looks forward to melting for his own purposes, after he has staked the relict's money-bags on the gambling-table; her feathers are profuse, and she wears a boa of an extinct kind, famous in the annals of contemporary fashions, known as a rattle-snake.[10]

June 20, 1809. A Tit-bit for a Strong Stomach.

July 31, 1809. The Huntsman Rising. The Gamester going to bed. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi. (See 1811.)

1809. Rowlandson's Caricatures upon the Delicate Investigation, or the Clarke Scandal (Mrs. Mary Anne Clarke and the Duke of York).—In order to make the caricatures, published by Rowlandson, on the Clarke scandal intelligible, it is desirable to recapitulate the circumstances, which are given in condensed form from the writer's 'Life of James Gillray the Caricaturist.'[11]

OH! YOU'RE A DEVIL. GET ALONG, DO!

George the Third's darling son, the favourite Frederick, on whom he doted, and who was so popular out of doors that he was hailed as 'the soldier's friend'—a compliment which no soldier would be likely to utter concerning a commander who had not taken the right method to render himself the object of general affection—began to attract unenviable notoriety at the beginning of 1809. On January 27 Colonel Wardle charged the Duke with corrupt administration of the Half-Pay Fund, the sole control of this provision having been vested in the Commander-in-Chief.

The produce of the fund arose from the sale of commissions fallen in by the death or dismissal of officers in the army, and amounts thus realised were applied to the purchase of commissions for meritorious officers, and other beneficial purposes.

Colonel Wardle stated he should prove that the Duke of York had a mistress, Mrs. Clarke, living in great splendour in Gloucester Place, from 1803 to 1806. This lady had a scale of prices for the sale of commissions, and he would lay before the House Mrs. Clarke's prices and the Regulation prices.

 

Mrs. Clarke's

Regulation

 

Prices.

Prices.

A Majority

£900

£2,600

A Company

700

1,500

A Lieutenancy

400

550

An Ensigncy

200

400

Every sale effected by Mrs. Clarke was a loss to the Half-Pay Fund of the difference between her price and the Regulation price. He then made a statement of a list of sales effected by her, the sums paid, the names and ranks of the officers, a list of exchanges, &c.

Her patronage, it was stated, extended also to ecclesiastics. He moved for a Committee of the whole House to investigate the subject. The motion was agreed to, and the witnesses were ordered to be summoned.

On February 1, Mrs. Clarke stood at the bar of the House—a lovely Thaïs, eminently self-possessed, armed with ready wit, and with charms of person and address which dazzled the gravest members. She contrived to turn all questions put to her with the object of giving annoyance, or for her degradation, into the means of exposing the Duke of York, who, it appears, had withdrawn his 'protection,' stipulating to pay her an annuity of 400l. per annum, which had been suffered to fall into arrears, and her applications for payment had been met with threats of the 'pillory' and the 'Bastille.'

Wilberforce, who, as we have seen, had been active in bringing forward the impeachment of Lord Melville, for corruption in his office, when at the Admiralty, as far as misappropriation of the Navy Fund was concerned; and Whitbread, who, as a leader of the Radical Reformers, was foremost in exposing state intrigues and corruptions at Court—were active in bringing forward and proving the case against the Commander-in-Chief.

Wilberforce has made the following entry in his diary, touching the investigation before the Parliamentary Committee: 'This melancholy business will do irreparable mischief to public morals, by accustoming the public to hear without emotion shameless violations of decency. The House examining Mrs. Clarke for two hours, cross-examining her in the Old Bailey way, she, elegantly dressed, consummately impudent and very clever, got clearly the better of the tussle.'

Two officers who endeavoured to shield their chief during the investigation by giving evidence contrary to the truth, were committed to Newgate for equivocation.

After an examination which lasted some while, during which facts damaging to both sides were elicited, while Mrs. Clarke's allegations remained unshaken in the main, Colonel Wardle summed up the evidence, and concluded by moving 'that the Duke of York had been guilty of corrupt practices and connivance. He accordingly prayed for his dismissal from the command of the army.'

Mr. Banks moved an amendment acquitting the Duke of York of personal corruption, but petitioning the King to remove him for gross irregularities and negligence.

Mr. Percival moved and carried a resolution absolving the Duke of all personal corruption or criminal connivance.

It was evident that the resignation of the Commander-in-Chief would alone stop further proceedings. Wilberforce and his party succeeded in forcing him to retire from the command of the army, and the inquiry was dropped.

Sir David Dundas succeeded the Duke of York, and after holding the appointment for two years, resigned, and the Duke was reinstated.

Mrs. Clarke was not appeased by the results of the parliamentary investigation, which had, in fact, effected nothing for her, and all for others. These disgraceful exposures would have been escaped if the Duke had paid her annuity. Her motives in the matter were of course entirely personal; the public were on her side, and she made the notoriety serve her purpose. She announced a Memoir of her Life, and of her transactions with the Duke of York, accompanied by a series of his letters; these latter would have been eagerly read, the fervid specimens which came out in the course of the investigation were republished, versified, and circulated in various forms, to the delight of the public. The consequences, and the ridicule apprehended from this exposure, effected the purpose which a mere regard for good faith could not accomplish: negotiations were opened for the suppression and destruction of these memoirs, which were said to be actually in print. An indemnity of 7,000l. is believed to have secured Mrs. Clarke's silence, and the annuity of 400l. was guaranteed her for life. This outline of the facts will be found substantially followed by the caricaturist's series, although the details differ in certain respects from over-colouring inseparable from satirical versions. Mrs. Clarke[12] stated that she had been under the protection of the Duke of York since the years 1802 or 1803, but her establishment in Gloucester Place did not commence till 1804; it consisted of two carriages, eight horses, nine men servants, &c., to defray the expenses of which the Duke allowed her 2,000l. per annum, to be paid monthly. That she had also a small establishment at Weybridge; the house belonged to His Royal Highness. That the sums she received from the Duke were barely adequate to pay the servants their wages and liveries; and when she informed him of it, he replied that 'if she were clever, she would not ask him for money.' That the applications for her interest in military promotions were very numerous; she mentioned them to His Royal Highness, who told her which were likely to be successful. At one period she had a long list of applicants, procured either by Captain Sandon or Mr. Donovan, which she gave his Royal Highness, who said he would procure the appointments by degrees; she stated to him at the same time the sums which she should receive for her interest in procuring them; that the appointment of Mr. Dowler to the Commissariat was through the influence of the Duke of York, who knew that she was to receive 1,000l. for it. That two applications were made through the medium of Mr. Donovan, for promotions in the Church, one for a deanery, the other a bishopric; and Dr. O'Meara, who expected one of them, applied to her for a letter of introduction to His Royal Highness. That the Duke was fully acquainted with the extent of her establishment as he visited her every day; paid some incidental debts which she had incurred; but, at the time of separation, had not made any advances of cash for three months, and, in consequence, left her involved more than 2,000l. in debt. She resided in Gloucester Place about three years.

Mrs. Clarke also stated that she obtained for Major Shaw the appointment of Deputy Barrack-Master-General of the Cape of Good Hope, for which he was to pay her 1,000l.; she, however, only received 500l., and, on complaining to His Royal Highness, he warned her to be more careful, and not to suffer herself to be duped again, adding that he would put Major Shaw on half-pay. Major Shaw sent her several letters in consequence, complaining of being put upon half-pay, but she paid no attention to them.

Mrs. Clarke also stated that she had in her service as footman, a young man, named Samuel Carter; he lived with her about twelve months, and was in the habit of attending upon her when in company with the Duke of York. She at length obtained for him a commission in the 16th Foot, by applying to the Duke, who conversed with him on the occasion. At the time of the investigation he was a staff officer in the West Indies. Carter was recommended to her by Captain Sutton, and was indebted to her alone for his commission.

It appeared from later disclosures that this Carter, who was by no means a person without education, was the natural son of the deceased Captain Sutton, a most meritorious officer, and a personal friend of the Prince's, and that his son's appointment was an act of well-deserved benevolence. Carter's age at the date of his appointment was, according to Mrs. Clarke's account, about eighteen, but on account of his short stature he looked a mere boy.

Mrs. Clarke was asked whether she intended to abide by the statement of her having pinned up at the head of the bed a list of the friends whom she wished to be promoted, and which list the Duke of York took away? She answered affirmatively, and said that His Royal Highness took it down the second morning, drew up the curtain, and read it. She afterwards saw it in His Royal Highness's pocket-book, with scratches through several of the names of those who had been promoted.

Miss Mary Ann Taylor, who was in the habit of visiting Mrs. Clarke, when she was under the Duke's protection, very frequently, stated that she heard the Duke of York speak to Mrs. Clarke about Colonel French's levy, and that what passed, as nearly as she could recollect, was as follows. 'I am continually worried by Colonel French. He worries me continually about the levy business, and is always wanting something more in his own favour.' Turning then to Mrs. Clarke (Miss T. thinks), he said, 'How does he behave to you, darling?' or some such kind words as he was wont to use. Mrs. Clarke replied, 'Middling; not very well;' on which the Duke said, 'Master French must mind what he is about, or I shall cut him up and his levy too!'[13]

Large sums, it is certain, had been supplied by the Duke to his mistress—upwards of 5,000l. in notes, and in payments to tradesmen for wine, furniture, and a variety of articles, to the amount, in the whole, of between 16,000l. and 17,000l., and all within the space of little more than two years. The extent of Mrs. Clarke's debts was likewise to be considered.[14]

Mrs. Clarke's Memoirs.—Mrs. Clarke called on Sir Richard Phillips for the purpose of making some arrangement respecting the publication of her Memoirs; this offer was declined for several reasons of a private and political nature: the unqualified reproaches to which Sir Richard Phillips had lately been exposed had probably taught him some lessons of reserve, or at least he did not choose to expose himself to public notice as the publisher of a work which was likely to create much political interest, at least while the novelty of the thing lasted. Though this gentleman declined to become the purchaser of Mrs. Clarke's MS., he promised to recommend her to a publisher, who would treat her justly and liberally. At the same time, Sir Richard told Mrs. Clarke he conceived if she could obtain the arrears of her annuity from the Duke, and a legal settlement for the payment of it in future, together with the payment of all debts contracted during her late connection with His Royal Highness, it would better answer her purpose to suppress the publication altogether. To this reasonable proposition Mrs. Clarke consented; negotiations were opened with the Commander-in-Chief's advisers, and a projected plan of accommodation made known. This was followed by a string of propositions on the other side, which were drawn up, and assented to by Mrs. Clarke, and the famous threatened Memoirs of this lady, 'written by herself,' were consigned to the flames on the premises of Mr. Gillet, the printer, of Salisbury Square.

Eighteen thousand copies, with the perusal of which the country was to have been indulged, were actually destroyed, and the entire publication was effectually suppressed. Besides destroying the Memoirs Mrs. Clarke gave up ninety private letters, containing, it is said, anecdotes of illustrious and noble personages, of the most curious description.

April 29.—'Mrs. Clarke's Memoirs are said to have been suppressed, in consequence of her receiving 7,000l. down, and an annuity of 400l. for her own life, and an annuity of 200l. each for her respective daughters, with a promise that her son shall be provided for. The printer of the work has also received 500l. of the indemnification money.'[15]

It is difficult to discriminate between the alleged motives of Colonel Wardle's action and his real object; public spirit was the mainspring which directed the mover of the investigation, if we may trust his own account, and for awhile the populace seems to have been of the same opinion, as addresses of thanks from various corporations acknowledged his patriotism. Somewhat later his disinterestedness began to be questioned; then the ugly evidence of the house at Westbourne Place was found difficult to argue away.[16] The absence of Major Dodd and Mr. Glennie at the action—where their presence was of the utmost importance—brought against the Colonel by one Wright, an upholsterer, to recover the expenses of furnishing this house, looked suspicious; the evidence was against the plaintiff, and Wardle was cast in the suit, and had to pay 2,000l. and costs.

In the course of the trial it began to be hinted that the chief instigator of these proceedings was no less than a royal Duke, the brother of the Commander-in-Chief.

It seems tolerably clear, on sifting the motives of the several actors and puppets in this matter, who had personally nothing to gain by the Duke's dismissal, and who were obviously, with one or two exceptions, corrupt agents in the first instance by their own confessions, and therefore likely to be actuated by no higher principles in the proceedings at issue, that they were (involuntarily in some cases) exposing their own misdeeds to forward the purpose of a greater personage, who did not appear, but to whose influence and purse they looked for their reward.

Mrs. Clarke was, as everyone recognised, acting from the common impulse of personal aggrandisement, and she frankly acknowledged her principles. The year following the investigation, and the destruction of her Memoirs, she thought proper to revenge the want of faith which, according to her account, had characterised the proceedings of the 'conspirators' in her own case, by exposing the true intentions of the Duke's assailants; her motives, as she admitted, were in this second exposure prompted by the same interested spirit which had actuated the previous prosecution of her late friend and protector.

According to her account Colonel Wardle was simply a tool in the hands of the Duke of Kent; his allies were Major Dodd and Mr. Glennie, the former being the Duke of Kent's secretary—who engaged himself without scruple to forward the projects of his employer. According to all accounts Colonel Wardle had bribed the assistance of an ambitious woman who fancied herself aggrieved, and who was, above all, amenable to sordid incentives: the Duke had left her in debt, had broken his word in more than one instance, and had used threats of the pillory and the Bastille in reply to her applications; she was tired of living in obscure retirement, and was irritated by the menaces of creditors, whose demands she had no means of satisfying. The chief temptation held out to her was, however, a promise that she should once more enjoy that command of ease, and power of shining in the world of fashion, which had been Mrs. Clarke's weakness through life. The arrears she claimed were to be made up, her debts were to be paid, the allowance she sought from the Duke of York (400l. per annum), was to be doubled by his brother; she was to have a carriage and four, with a residence and state in proportion; and she was to exercise her own taste in furnishing a house with the elegance and splendour which had marked her late establishment at Gloucester Place. To do the lady justice, she hesitated before inflicting the grave injuries which must attend the public exposure of her whilom benefactor, although she was by no means habitually given to sentimentality. She wrote to the Commander-in-Chief, asked for the allowance which, as she avowed, she had done nothing to forfeit, and at the same time mentioned the overtures which two factions were making her: one party for political purposes—the Radical Reformers to wit, headed by Sir Francis Burdett (who she declared had proposed to treat for the papers and letters in her possession, some sixty of which, as she informed the Duke, were in his own handwriting); the other influence brought to bear on her was of a more subtle and covert description, and she went so far as to indicate the disastrous consequences to himself which would inevitably follow if she lent herself to the schemes of his personal antagonists.

The Duke of York remained obdurate, and thus played into the hands of his personal and political enemies. Colonel Wardle seized the opportunity. He gave Mrs. Clarke 100l. for present necessities, to induce reliance in those liberal promises which were later repudiated. The lady's natural sagacity, and her experience of life, furnished her with strategic abilities almost equal to the combined talents of the respective factions between which she found herself; and on the strength of the assistance which she finally consented to afford to Colonel Wardle and his supporters through Major Dodd—who, though less seen, was the more active agent in organising the attack on the Commander-in-Chief—she secured the house in Westbourne Place as an earnest of the benefits she was to receive hereafter, and succeeded in making Colonel Wardle become security for the furniture. In her disappointment it must have proved at least somewhat of a consolation to have out-manœuvred the Colonel; who, for his reward, reaped in the end the obloquy attending exposure and ridicule instead of the glorification which at first appeared likely to crown his exertions. Thus the combination was successfully set in motion, and, in spite of all its discordant elements, compelled to work with something like consistent unison, or its individual members were left to take the consequences of any attempted retrogression, as in the instances of Captain Sandon (Mrs. Clarke's ally), on the one hand, and General Clavering,[17] whose sympathies were with his chief, on the other. The opponents of the Duke of York were thus prepared to open the campaign in the manner we have seen.

In 1810 Mrs. Clarke took up her pen to endeavour to prove that the Duke of York's fall was actually brought about by the successful ingenuity and masterly tactics of his brother the Duke of Kent. In a pamphlet entitled The Rival Princes she argued there was feud between the two Dukes, a fact which was sufficiently accepted out of doors, before the appearance of her publication, and that of the refutation which followed it under the title of The Rival Dukes. It will be remembered that early in 1802 the Duke of Kent obtained the governorship of Gibraltar, and that when possessed of the supreme command he determined to introduce all the rigour of German discipline, in accordance with the school in which he had received his military education. His efforts to remodel the existing regulations, and to substitute a system of severer subordination and rigid restraint, were not attended with auspicious results; on the contrary, a mutiny took place, December 24, 1803, in which, it is said, the Governor's life was actually aimed at. On this occasion several officers distinguished themselves by their zeal and activity; while the timely arrival of a detachment of artillery under Captain Dodd, not only endeared that officer to his royal highness through the remainder of his life, but contributed not a little to restore order in the garrison. The Duke of Kent was soon after recalled, and although he requested that the Commander-in-Chief should hold a court-martial on his conduct, the Duke of York declined to sanction the proceedings—Mrs. Clarke alleged out of fraternal kindness, as he declared to her, that if he had acceded to his brother's wishes, the Duke of Kent would certainly have been dismissed, which would have resulted in the loss of his emoluments, and this would have occasioned a reduction of some 2,000l. per annum in his income, at a time too when he was in sufficiently straitened circumstances.

From the date of his return his royal highness remained unemployed, and all efforts to obtain a restoration to his governorship, or attain any command in the army, proved unavailing, although he had received the baton of a field-marshal in 1805.

Between the Commander-in-Chief and his brother a jealousy had for some time subsisted, and Mrs. Clarke did not hesitate to state that the intrigue to which she had been induced to lend herself as the most conspicuous figure, was prompted by a desire on the part of the principal agitator—who remained discreetly in the background—to humiliate the Duke of York, in the expectation that the office of Commander-in-Chief, vacated by his brother's dismissal, would descend on himself in the natural order of things: an expectation which was not realised. One wild surmise attributed to 'the party' the belief that the Duke of York, smarting under his disgrace, would commit suicide, and thus afford the Duke of Kent a chance of being appointed his successor, as in the event of his brother's decease, there seems little doubt that the Duke of Kent, in spite of certain prejudices against which he struggled through his prematurely closed life, would have filled the office, almost by family right. The character of the Duke of Kent has been dispassionately reviewed since that date, and the calumnies of his detractors disallowed; beyond a natural leaning to discipline pushed to severity, through the fruits of his training, it is clear that his disposition was remarkably free from the guilty personal weaknesses which marked his age, and from those unrestrained self-indulgences which disfigured many of the brightest luminaries of the last century in nearly every phase of society.

It will perhaps be interesting, after having thus attempted to trace the involutions of this complicated and scandalous intrigue, which, however, belongs to history, to add a word on the ultimate careers of the principal actors. Mrs. Clarke chiefly spent her later years in Paris, where it is understood she died, leaving a fortune amounting to some thousands of pounds. It is a redeeming point in her character, that when a certain nobleman (best known by the fictitious title of the 'Marquis of Steyne,' under which he figures in a famous novel, perhaps the finest in the world), presuming on the reputation of the mother, made princely overtures, with the object of converting one of her daughters—who, we are informed, were unusually handsome young ladies—into his mistress, the proposal was treated with the indignation its nature merited.

Mr. Clarke, who was by no means the sinner, according to another account which has reached us, that his detractors have painted, became for a time, as we learn, a Brother of the Charter House. He lived to a very venerable age; and he, too, from the circumstances of his family, was able to leave some property at his decease.

The majority of caricatures published by Rowlandson in 1809 relate, as we have already said, to the Clarke Scandal. The exposures which attended this connection, and the action taken by the members of the Opposition in consequence of the disclosures of abuses of influence which came out in course of the investigation, occasioned the Duke of York to resign his office as head of the army, a temporary concession rendered unavoidable, it appeared, under the circumstances. The satirical prints put forth to hold up to ridicule the various compromising revelations which marked the progress of the Parliamentary examination of witnesses formed a series by themselves. Thomas Tegg who issued the greater part of these plates, thought proper to bring out a frontispiece or title-page to the collection, which our artist etched, for the purpose, on March 27, 1809. The design of this introductory print is arranged as a screen, on which is the lettering: 'Tegg's complete Collection of Caricatures relative to Mrs. Clarke, and the circumstances arising from the Investigation of the Conduct of His Royal Highness the Duke of York before the House of Commons, 1809—'

Out of Evil cometh good— Learn to be wise from others' harm, And thou shalt do full well.

On the ground is a book open at the Commandment, 'Thou shalt not commit adultery,' and beside lie the Duke's letters to his lady-love, beginning, 'My darling, dearest dear,' &c. Mrs. Clarke and Colonel Wardle, the pair made most conspicuous during the enquiry, are standing on pedestals, placed at either extremity, and drawing back the curtains. The mitre and crozier of the Duke, as Prince Bishop of Osnaburgh, crossed by his long sword and the military cocked-hat appertaining to his official position, as Commander-in-Chief of the army, form an appropriate trophy, arranged above the proscenium.

February 15, 1809. Dissolution of Partnership, or the Industrious Mrs. Clarke Winding up her Accounts. Published by T. Tegg, Cheapside.—Above the heads of the principal performers in this scene is engraved the well-known quotation from Gay's 'Beggar's Opera':—

'Tis woman that seduces all mankind; By her we first are taught the wheedling arts; Her very eyes can cheat when most she's kind. She tricks us of our money with our hearts: For her, like wolves, by night we rove for prey, And practise every fraud to bribe her charms; For suits of love, like law, are won by pay, And beauty must be fee'd into our arms.

Mrs. Clarke is seated on a 'rickety chair,' with a 'Morocco bottom;' at her feet are the tender epistles of her admirer: 'My love, my life, I cannot exist without you;' 'My admirable angel;' 'My dear pretty little darling,' &c.; the lady is holding her lap for a bag of gold (800l.) which a stout old party is handing her in exchange for her good offices, relative to the promotion of a scarecrow in military uniform, probably his son, seated in an 'easy chair,' with a paper at his feet inscribed likewise from Gay's 'Newgate Pastoral':—

'Tis so pat to all the tribe, Each cries, 'That was levelled at me!'

Mrs. Clarke's boudoir is indicated behind; the portrait of 'Frederick' is hanging therein, and below it is pinned a 'list of candidates for promotion. Sums offered. Clavering 2,000l.; Dowling, 800l.; O'Meara, 300l.' &c. Everything is apparently conducted on a business-like footing. 'Mrs. Clarke's Ledger' is placed ready to hand, and upon it is a long file of receipts, 'commissions paid for.'

February 20, 1809. Mrs. Clarke's Levee. A pair of subjects on one plate. Published by T. Tegg, Cheapside.—The interest of this frail dispenser of patronage was not confined to the army, it was extended to the Church. In the course of the disclosures it was shown that a certain Doctor O'Meara had secured, through her offices, and for a consideration, the privilege of preaching before Royalty—an equivocal road to preferment, on the nature of which the caricaturists were especially playful, as succeeding prints will elucidate. Mrs. Clarke is seen, standing in semi-royal state, under a canopy, and holding a levee of interested applicants: military officers, of various grades, are bowing before the fair patroness; a Church dignitary, openly provided with the needful (800l. in a money-bag), and 'cits' who are willing to treat for the advantage of having their sons converted into officers and gentlemen. Mrs. Clarke is candidly rehearsing the terms on which business may be transacted at her establishment; the conditions are sufficiently plausible:—

Ye Captains and ye Colonels—ye Parsons wanting place, Advice I'll give you gratis, and think upon your case. If there is possibility for you I'll raise the dust; But then you must excuse me—if I serve myself the first.

February 20, 1809. The Ambassador of Morocco on a Special Embassy.—In such delicate transactions as Mrs. Clarke carried on at Gloucester Place, where the Duke had set up an elegant establishment for her use, the intermediary of third parties was essential. Among the accommodating persons whose names were brought to light in the course of the proceedings, as acting in the capacity of 'go-betweens,' was a certain 'Emperor of Morocco,' as he was styled in the correspondence, but who, in sober reality, was a ladies' shoemaker, one Taylor, of Bond Street.

The print represents this mysterious plenipotentiary, with private correspondence in his hand, hurrying up to Mrs. Clarke's handsomely furnished mansion; the lady, who is at the open window on the look-out for her envoy, is crying, 'Open the door, John; here comes the Ambassador. Now for the dear delightful answer.' John Bull, with his dog by his side, who has apparently formed a suspicion of the Emperor's errand, is enquiring, 'I say, Master Shoemaker, where be you going in such a woundy hurry?' To which the bustling confidential agent replies, 'Don't speak to me, fellow; you should never pry into State affairs.'

February 24, 1809. Days of Prosperity in Gloucester Place, or a Kept Mistress in High Feather. Published by T. Tegg.—'Money was expended upon her footmen, chariots, musicians, singers, players, dancers, parasites, pimps, and bawds. But in the end the money of the people.'—Vide Cobbett, Annual Register. A scene of coarse and indiscriminate revelry is represented proceeding in Mrs. Clarke's drawing-room; a round table is covered with wines, spirits, punchbowls, and, among the rich dessert dishes, is a gigantic golden bowl, the thankoffering of a Bishop. The diversions of the company assembled have passed the bounds of innocent recreation; fiddlers and singers are rolling on the floor, wine and punch are recklessly thrown about the place, and altogether the spectacle is not of an improving character. A troop of flunkeys, in expensive liveries, are helping themselves from the decanters and laughing at the tipsy antics of the company.

February 26, 1809. All for Love. A Scene at Weymouth.—The Duke's most affectionate epistles were dated from Weymouth, and the caricaturist has drawn the stout commander seated at table there, pen in hand, filled with rapture at the prospect of returning to his Delilah: 'To-morrow I inspect my regiment, and then for my dearest, dearest, dearest love!' Unfinished love-letters are scattered around: 'Oh, love is the cause of my folly!' 'My amiable girl!' 'My dearest dear, I hope to be in your arms,' &c. The Duke's black footboy, who is standing staring in amazement at the rhapsodising hero his master, is inclined to moralise over the Duke's follies: 'Bless my massa! what be the matter with him? Him in love, I fear. Sambo once be in love with bad woman, but him repent!' On the same plate is a second subject, entitled—

February 26, 1809. An Unexpected Meeting.—An elderly officer is amazed at running across the figure of Mrs. Clarke's footboy, strutting in his uniform as bold as the best. 'Can I believe my eyes? Why, this is the little footboy who waited on us at the house of a lady of a certain description!' The promoted favourite is highly indignant at this allusion to the past: 'I beg, sir, you will not come for to go to affront a gemman!'

February 26, 1809. The Bishop and his Clarke. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—The reverend Bishop of Osnabrück has laid aside his crozier and mitre and assumed the nightcap of domestic retirement. By his side is the notorious Clarke, who is reminding her companion of certain promises: 'Only remember the promotions I mentioned; I have pinned up the list at the head of the bed.' To which the Duke of York is tenderly responding, 'Ask anything in reason, and you shall have it, my dearest love!' The list of promotions includes 'A Bishopric for Dr. O'Leary,' 'A Commissariat for Dicky Dowlas,' and other items, down to a post for the lady's footboy. It was stated by Mrs. Clarke, during the proceedings, that the Duke had assured her 'that as his favourite she had far more influence than the Oueen.'

February 27, 1809. A Pilgrimage from Surrey to Gloucester Place, or the Bishop in an Ecstasy. Published by T. Tegg.—The Duke of York, arrayed in his canonicals as Prince Bishop of Osnabrück, has turned his back on his mansion and on his wife; he has travelled a long stride upon the 'road to destruction' and passed the 'stumbling-block' on his path. He is trampling under foot 'Thoughts on Connubial Happiness' and the Commandments, and is just turning the corner of Gloucester Place, saying, 'Now for a meeting with my dearest dear.' Mrs. Clarke and a female friend are looking out of window, and signalling the Duke's arrival. Various placards are pasted on the house of his mistress: 'To all.—Journeymen Taylors wanted,' 'Man traps are placed every night on these premises,' 'Diamonds by Mrs. Clarke, Lapidary to His Highness;' 'Agency Office; business transacted on moderate terms;' 'This evening will be performed "Duke and no Duke," by His Majesty's servants,' &c.

February 29, 1809. The York[18] Magician Transforming a Footboy into a Captain. Published by T. Tegg.—The Commander-in-Chief has assumed the white beard, fur cap, and robes of a magician; he is waving a magic wand, 'Petticoat Influence,' over Mrs. Clarke's late footboy, who is rising transformed into a captain, and filled with astonishment at the rapidity of the performance. The Duke is made to say, 'By the mystery of my art, no more be a footboy, but rise a captain!'

March 2, 1809. A Parliamentary Toast. Published by T. Tegg.—A company, consisting principally of army officers, have been dining; the wine is on the table. 'Come, Jack, favour with a toast.' The chairman is standing on his legs to do honour to his toast: 'Here is the lady that can raise five hundred!' Another gallant gentleman is anxiously enquiring of his neighbour, 'How much did you give to be gazetted?' The answer, given with a disconsolate air, is, 'Five hundred hard cash!' A listener is remarking, 'I did not think it would have been done up so soon. I had promised at least a dozen promotions!'

March 4, 1809. Chelsea Parade, or a Croaking Member Surveying the Inside, Outside, and Backside of Mrs. Clarke's Premises. Published by T. Tegg.—The front door of Mrs. Clarke's establishment, 'Warren Street.' The door is inscribed, 'Knock, and you shall enter.' A notice-board, hung out sign-fashion, bears the quotation: 'All the world's a stage, and men and women merely players. Some play the upper, some the under part, but chief play that most foreign to their heart.' Colonel Wardle, wrapped in his military cloak, and indicating discretion, with his finger on his lips, is handing a bag of money to a waiting-maid and saying, 'You understand me,' to which the favourite is replying with an assurance 'that the Colonel's business shall be attended to.' Mrs. Clarke, leaning out of window, is overlooking her visitor and crying, 'Though not in love, enter quick, my guardian angel, my sweet Widdle-Waddle.' Mr. Croker, ensconced in 'Prospect Place,' opposite, as the 'croaking member,' spyglass in hand, is surveying the position of affairs from an attic marked, 'Peeping Tom's Observatory;' he is exclaiming, 'Oh, the devil choke her! he's Waddling in, as I'm a prying Croaker.' A discomfited group of ex-favourites are hurrying off as quickly as possible. The Duke of York, with mitre and crozier, a cope worn over his uniform, and bearing a label on his stole: 'Men have their entrances and their exits,' cries, 'To part with my dear, and not allow four hundred a year.' His lawyer, Adam, by his side, cries, 'Alas, alas! all flesh is grass—so said Adam, my forefather;' and Doctor O'Meara, bringing up the rear, in great tribulation, is moaning, 'O me, Leary! O me, Leary! who once made Royalty melt into tears—am now become a sniveller.'

March 5, 1809. The Road to Preferment—through Clarke's Passage. Published by T. Tegg.—Mrs. Clarke, wearing a general's uniform above her skirts, is standing at the entrance to a wide thoroughfare, marked 'Clarke's Passage.' There is a stampede to gain admission—officers, dandies, old fogeys, parsons with money-bags, fathers and sons—the halt and the lame, the gouty and disabled, are all flocking in crowds, ready to pay for the accommodation,—but in vain. The arbitress of promotions and easy advancements is declaring, 'Gentlemen, it is no use to rush on in this manner; the principal places have been disposed of these three weeks; and I assure you at present there is not even standing room.'

March 5, 1809. The York March. Published by T. Tegg.—The stout Duke of York has turned his sturdy back on his fair enslaver, declaring, 'If I must march, I must; however, I shall leave my Baggage behind me!' The principal cause of the exposure may be laid to the Duke's account. He declined, as has been mentioned, to keep his word in respect to an allowance of four hundred a year, which, there appears no doubt, he had promised to make the lady, if her conduct, after his desertion, was such as to merit his approval. Mrs. Clarke, who is dressed precisely as she appeared at the bar of the House of Commons,[19] is thus reproaching the York deserter: 'O you gay deceiver, to leave a poor woman without protection!' The storm which was raised during the enquiry into the abuses of privilege in the administration of the army and Half-Pay Fund, and threatened to deprive the Duke of his office as Commander-in-Chief, only hardened his resolution to do nothing for this Ariadne, who, however, to do her justice, showed herself well able to defend her own interests, and to pay back her defamers in their own coin.

THE YORK MARCH.

March 7, 1809. The Triumvirate of Gloucester Place, or the Clarke, the Soldier, and the Taylor. Published by T. Tegg.

John Gilpin said, 'Of womankind I only love but one, And thou art she, my dearest dear; Therefore it shall be done.'—Vide 'John Gilpin.'

—The Duke of York is seated at table, on which is wine and dessert, placed between Mrs. Mary Ann Clarke and her friend and confidante, Miss Taylor. The Duke's favourite is holding out her 'List of Promotions,' entered upon a tremendous roll of papers, which seems to be endless. 'I have a small list of promotions which I wish to be filled up immediately, my dearest!' To which modest request this weak-minded Samson is readily giving his assent: 'It shall be done, my darling!'

March 8, 1809. A Scene from the Tragedy of 'Cato.' Published by T. Tegg.—Two Britons are meeting, wearing the most solemn aspect, indicating occurrences of portentous gravity. One of the pair is a cobbler, above whose stall is the figure of an anchor and the words, 'Hope—Insurance Office.' His friend is reciting with terrific intensity these lines:—

The dawn is overcast—the morning lours, And heavily in clouds brings in the day— Big with the fate of York and Mrs. Clarke.

March 8, 1809. Yorkshire Hieroglyphics. Plate 1. Published by T. Tegg.—The hieroglyphics are not very difficult to decipher, and when transcribed prove nothing more than a compromising letter, which was produced in the House of Commons, incautiously sent by the amorous Commander-in-Chief to his lady-love five years previously:—

The Duke of York's first letter to Mrs. Clarke.

'Weymouth, August 4, 1804.

'My dear little Angel,—How can I sufficiently express to my sweetest, my darling love, the delight which her dear, her pretty letter gave me, or how do justice to the emotion it excited? Millions and millions of thanks for it, my angel, and be assured that my heart is wholly sensible of your affection, and that upon it alone its whole happiness depends.

'I am, however, quite hurt that my love did not go to the Lewes Races; how kind of her to think of me on that occasion! but I trust she knows me too well not to be convinced that I cannot bear the idea of adding to those sacrifices which I am but too sensible that she has made to me.

'News my angel cannot expect from me from hence; though the life led here, at least in the family I am in, is very hurrying, there is a sameness in it which affords little subject for a letter; except Lord Chesterfield's family, there is not a single person besides ourselves I know. Last night we were at the play, which went off better than the first night.

'Dr. O'Meara called upon me yesterday morning, and delivered me your letter; he wishes much to preach before Royalty, and if I can put him in the way of it I will.

'What a time it appears to me already, my darling, since we parted; how impatiently I look forward to next Wednesday se'night!

'God bless you, my own dear, dear love! I shall miss the post if I add more! Oh, believe me ever, to my last hour, yours and yours alone.'

[Addressed 'Mrs. Clarke, to be left at the Post Office, Worthing.' Endorsed 'Dr. O'Meara.']

March 9, 1809. The Burning Shame.—The residence of Mrs. Clarke, at the corner of Gloucester Place, is made conspicuous to the public by a notification at one time practised in respect to disreputable vicinities. A man is planted before the door holding a notice-board, warning the passers-by to 'beware of bad houses and naughty women;' a couple of watchmen, with their lanterns slung on the ends of long poles, are throwing a good light on the nature of the case. A clergyman and an officer, who were evidently coming direct to the establishment on private ends, are, by this publicity, warned out of danger before their intention is disclosed to the public.

March 11, 1809. Yorkshire Hieroglyphics. Plate 2. Published by T. Tegg.

'Sandgate, August 24, 1804.

'How can I sufficiently express to my darling love my thanks for her dear, dear letter, or the delight which the assurances of her love give me!

'Oh! my angel! do me justice, and be convinced that there never was a woman adored as you are. Every day, every hour convinces me, more and more, that my whole happiness depends upon you alone. What a time it appears to be since we parted, and with what impatience do I look forward to the day after to-morrow; there are still, however, two whole nights before I clasp my darling in my arms.

'How happy am I to learn that you are better; I still, however, will not give up my hopes of the cause of your feeling uncomfortable.

'Clavering is mistaken, my angel, in thinking that any new regiments are to be raised; it is not intended, only second battalions to the existing corps; you had better, therefore, tell him so, and that you were sure that there would be no use in applying for him.

'Ten thousand thanks, my love, for the handkerchiefs, which are delightful; and I need not, I trust, assure you of the pleasure I feel in wearing them, and thinking of the dear hands which made them for me.

'Nothing could be more satisfactory than the tour I have made, and the state in which I have found everything. The whole of the day before yesterday was employed in visiting the works at Dover, reviewing the troops there, and examining the coast as far as this place. From Folkestone I had a very good view of those of the French Camp.

'Yesterday I first reviewed the Camp here, and afterwards the 14th Light Dragoons, who are certainly in very fine order; and from thence proceeded to Brabourne Lees, to see four regiments of Militia; which altogether took me up near thirteen hours.

'I am now setting off immediately to ride along the coast to Hastings, reviewing the different corps as I pass, which will take me at least as long.

'Adieu, therefore, my sweetest and dearest love, till the day after to-morrow, and be assured that to my last hour I shall ever remain your's and your's alone.'

[Addressed 'George Farquhar, Esq., 18 Gloucester Place, Portman Square.' Folkestone, endorsed 'Gen. Clavering,' &c.]

March 12, 1809. The Statue to be Disposed of. Published by T. Tegg, Cheapside.—Mrs. Clarke's house at the corner of Gloucester Place is again the subject of caricature. The figure of the Duke of York, in his uniform, with his back to the spectator, and his face to the wall, is placed on a pedestal for disposal. A placard, posted on the house, announces: 'The statue on the outside having been thoroughly repaired and whitewashed, is to be sold by private contract. For further particulars enquire within.' A bill-poster is sticking up the following notice on behalf of the publisher: 'Caricature Warehouse, 111 Cheapside. A new caricature on Mrs. Clarke every day.'

March 13, 1809. A General Discharge, or the Darling Angel's Finishing Stroke. Published by T. Tegg.—Mrs. Clarke has been making pretty havoc among the branches of the service. She has drummed out a number of officers to the tune of the 'Rogue's March;' discomfited generals and prelates, who, since their intrigues are unmasked, are doing their best to get out of range. As to the 'Darling Angel's' redoubtable opponent, the Commander-in-Chief, he has laid down his cocked-hat and sword, and, on his knees, is trying to mitigate the excess of mischief which his discarded lady-love is in a position to wreak; he is crying in despair: 'Alas, alas! for ever ruined and undone; see, see, she has spiked my Great Gun!' Mrs. Clarke, who is putting the finishing stroke to this destructive operation, is offering a parting word of gratuitous advice to the now repentant Commander: 'A wise general should make good his retreat.'

March 15, 1809. The Champion of Oakhampton Attacking the Hydra of Gloucester Place. 'Bellua Multorum es Capitum.' Vide Horace. The Champion is clad in a complete suit of mail, and he is valorously rushing up to the mouth of the cavern, whence the Hydra is breaking forth; it must be confessed that the Champion seems a little staggered at the front displayed by the many-headed monster; the foremost and most overgrown head is that of the Commander-in-Chief, begirt with the Collar of Corruption. The other heads are described by their collars: Dowler, Sandon, Dr. O'Meara, Dr. Donovan, Mrs. Clarke, and Master Carter.

March 17, 1809. The Parson and the Clarke. Published by T. Tegg.—Dr. O'Meara is favoured with a private interview, of a strictly business-like character, by Mrs. Clarke. The ambitious divine is throwing up his head in such raptures that he has jerked off his learned wig: 'Oh how I should like to preach before Royalty!' The fair dispenser of patronage, with a long roll of 'Army preferments' and a shorter list of 'Church preferments' before her, is putting the case in a matter-of-fact way: 'Only pay the Clarke's fees, and the business is done.'

So great on the Church were O'Meara's designs That he prov'd too ambitious a spark; But where is the wonder, ye learned divines, That the parson should follow the Clarke?

March 19, 1809. Samson Asleep on the Lap of Delilah. Published by T. Tegg.—The Duke of York is following the example of the famous slayer of Philistines. He is sunk in slumber, with his head on the lap of his treacherous Delilah; a pile of love-letters, addressed to his 'dearest dear,' are sufficiently indicative of his infatuation. Mrs. Clarke, who is represented in the print as a by no means repulsive-looking temptress, has taken advantage of the hero's unconsciousness to chop off his full pigtail, and she is holding up the severed caudal appendage, as an encouragement to the enemies of the helpless Commander-in-Chief to take advantage of their opportunity: 'Gentlemen, you may now take him with safety, his strength is gone; I have cut off his regulation tail, and there is no danger!'

March 24, 1809. The Resignation, or John Bull overwhelmed with Grief. Published by T. Tegg.—The departing Commander-in-Chief, in his regimentals, as he is invariably represented, is trying to harrow John Bull's sympathies before he deprives him of his valuable services: 'Good bye, Johnny; I am going to resign; but don't take it so much to heart; perhaps I may very soon come back again!'[20]

The good-natured national prototype is keeping up a show of affliction under the approaching bereavement; but, although he is concealing his face with his handkerchief, a smile lurks round the corner of his mouth as he sobs out somewhat equivocally in reply: 'O dunna, dunna go! it will break my heart to part with you—you be such a desperate moral character!'

March 24, 1809. The Prodigal Son's Resignation.—The stout sinner is humbling himself before the throne. A portion of the King's figure is concealed; the Duke of York has laid his Resignation, together with his coat, sword, and cocked-hat, at the paternal feet, and, kneeling in his denuded state, he is quoting the words of the parable of the Prodigal Son: 'Father, I have sinned before thee, and I am no longer worthy to be called thy son.' The monarch, who seems deeply affected by the spectacle of his favourite son's abasement, is returning: 'Very naughty boy! very naughty boy indeed! However, I forgive you; but don't do so any more.'

March 29, 1809. Mrs. Clarke's Last Effort. Published by T. Tegg.—The delicate investigation being concluded, the fair mover, Mrs. Clarke, was, as the satirists suggested, left without occupation; and Rowlandson has accordingly represented that she might employ her talents to advantage in opening an inn a little way out of town; she is pictured as the landlady of Clarke & Co's Original Tavern, from the York Hotel, London. Members of the Army, the Church, a Quaker, and others are hurrying up to extend their patronage to the new establishment. Mrs. Clarke, bent on hospitable intents, is encouraging her old friends to return and rally round: 'Come forward, gentlemen; you'll all be welcome. Every little helps':—

Your rhino rattle—come— Men and cattle—come— All to Mrs. Clarke O Of trouble and monies I'll ease you, my Honies, And leave you in the dark O.

March 30, 1809. The York Dilly, or the Triumph of Innocence. Published by T. Tegg.—A coach full of learned gentlemen, driven by a Counsel in his robes, is passing through an enthusiastic crowd; the charioteer is declaring: 'I thought we should bring him through.' The Duke of York is in the boot, apparently, 'blowing his own trumpet;' a placard, wreathed in laurel, is on the roof of the carriage, announcing, Acquitted. Glorious majority of 82.

The people are uproariously demonstrative; they are shouting: 'Huzza! glorious news for Old England!' females are encouraging their husbands to cheer; the figure of Mrs. Clarke is represented bursting through the multitude and shaking her fists at her late 'protector,' while a stout Churchman by her side is loyally protesting, 'I always said he was innocent!'

April 1, 1809. Doctor O'Meara's Return to his Family, after Preaching before Royalty. Published by T. Tegg.—The reverend divine has returned home to his comely spouse and family in such an elated frame of mind—skipping about, to the derangement of his ecclesiastic dignity, and losing his wig and hat—that his wife is enquiring: 'Why, my dear, you are quite frantic; what is the matter with you?' The Doctor is replying, in ecstasy, jumping higher than ever: 'Frantic?—I believe I am—I have been preaching before Royalty—our fortunes are made—such a sermon—neat text—quarter of an hour's discourse—appropriate prayer at the conclusion—Oh! to see them cry it would have melted a heart of stone—Oh bless that Mrs. Clarke; I shall never forget her!'

April 1, 1809. Mrs. Clarke's Farewell to her Audience. Tailpiece. Published by T. Tegg.—All the principal performers—generals, colonels, captains, reverend doctors, Master Carter, &c.—who have figured in the 'Clarke Scandal,' and throughout the series of satirical prints which Rowlandson designed on the Delicate Enquiry, are drawn up on the stage, in proper theatrical fashion, to acknowledge the gratifying reception accorded their exertions at the hands of an appreciative public. The national prototype, as the paying patron of the performance, is in the stage box, clapping his hands with enthusiasm, and shouting, 'Bravo, bravo!' Mrs. Clarke, as the leading actress, is standing in front of the line of players, dressed in semi-martial fashion, with a military hat on her head, epaulettes, a gorget, a laced coat, and a crimson sash. She is speaking the farewell address, which is as follows:—'Ladies and Gentlemen,—Having done our duty as far as we were called upon, we most humbly take our leave of a generous audience; not, like the generality of actors, wishing for a repetition of the performance, but, on the contrary, that it may never again be repeated. As to our friend Mr. Tegg, we hope that the graphic illustrations of this drama, which he and his performers have brought forward, may meet with that encouragement which is never denied to the effusions of whim and humour by a loyal and liberal British public; but I particularly request that, while you acquit the Bishop, you will be merciful to his Clarke.'

April 4, 1809. Original Plan for a Popular Monument, to be erected in Gloucester Place. Published by T. Tegg.—The contributaries to this monument of turpitude are grouped together to form a memorial suited to the occasion. The foundation-stone is a huge block, labelled 'York Folly,' supported on one side by the Episcopal mitre and crozier of the Right Rev. Bishop of Osnabrück, with a scroll of 'The New Morality.' The accessories on the other side are the cocked-hat, sword, and tender love-letters of the ex-Commander-in-Chief. A block of 'Cracked Portland Stone,' and a third slab of 'Folkestone of the first quality,' refer to the agitations raised by the Duke of Portland and Lord Folkestone; the more spirited elements are ranged above this foundation, in the form of a barrel of 'Whitbread's Entire,' 'Burdett's Stingo,' and 'Wardle's British Spirit,' these gentlemen having been the most active in enforcing the Duke's resignation. 'Romilly Freestone' supports a pair of medallions representing the two officers consigned to Newgate for prevarication—'Sandon' and 'Clavering's Dumps.' Mrs. Clarke's Pyramid, a golden cone, caps the edifice reared on corruption.

April 5, 1809. A York Address to the Whale Caught lately off Gravesend. Published by T. Tegg.—The Duke of York, in his regimentals, has gone down on his knees to the latest wonder of the hour, and is beseeching the popular arrival to divert the minds of an excitement-loving public from his own particular case: 'O mighty monster of the deep, continue to attract the attention of John Bull, bend his mind solely towards thee, for in that is my only hope; fascinated by thy powerful attractions, he may perhaps forget the honour of a Prince.'

April 10, 1809. The Flower of the City.—The figure of Alderman Flower is represented in the centre of a huge sunflower blowing on a stem, 'Weak Stock,' planted in a pot of 'Rank Butter,' and elevated on two cheeses, marked 'Mouldy and Rotten.' A sinister blast from a diabolical agent is withering the plant, and the leaves are falling; they are labelled with various uncomplimentary sentences, suggesting all kinds of vices, belonging to the parent shoot. Below this unflattering tribute to the Alderman is inscribed the following parody of verses:—

The Flow'r of the City, so gaudy and fine, 'Midst proud ones the proudest, was erst known to shine. It spread its gay leaves and it show'd its rich clothes, And to all (less in consequence) turn'd up its nose! Till a blight, a sad blight, from a Democrat wind Struck the sensitive plant, both before and behind. It felt the keen blast! All its arrogance fled, And the Flow'r of the City hung, hung down its head.

The Flow'r of the City, thus doom'd to despair, Droops, pines, and with wailing impregnates the air! Tells its pride and its folly (the cause of its grief), While the tears of repentance encumber each leaf! But vain are its tears, or the fate it bemoans, The world, the base world, gives but hisses and groans! For ever! for ever! its proud hopes are fled, And the Flow'r of the City hangs, hangs down its head.

April 10, 1809. The Modern Babel, or Giants Crushed by a Weight of Evidence. Published by T. Tegg.—The unfortunate Duke of York, with his Counsel and learned supporters, are crushed down under the weight of a compound structure which has been imposed upon their heads and shoulders. The bulkiest mass is the Evidence of Mrs. Clarke; Miss Taylor's Evidence is next in consequence, and the pyramidal slabs decrease upwards: Sly hits from Sandon and Clavering; Home Strokes from Dowling; Mrs. Hovendon's Evidence; Mrs. Tavery, Doctor O'Meara, Master Carter, &c. The person of Mrs. Clarke, posed in a triumphant attitude, is the figure which completes this superstructure of folly.

April 18, 1809. The Sick Lion and the Asses. Published by T. Tegg.—The Duke of York's head is placed on the shoulders of the disabled forest king, a pair of asses are showing their heels to the royal beast. 'What a Cur it is!' and 'Every man has his Price,' written on their collars, proclaim the identity of these animals. Another ass, of deeper cunning, forbears to take advantage of the prostrate lion, from far-seeing motives: 'Pshaw, pshaw! don't be afraid, I shall not kick, you may depend upon me—you may be of service to me hereafter!'

The apologue is said to be 'taken from Mr. Waithman's speech at the Common Hall:' 'When the royal beast was sick to death, and unable to defend himself, the minor beasts he had injured came to revile him with their wrongs; but when the dull asses came to fling their heels at him the royal animal exclaimed: "Injuries from others I can bear with resignation, but to bear insult from such vile animals as asses is to die a hundred deaths!"'

April 21, 1809. Burning the Books. Published by T. Tegg.—As we have traced in the summary of the diversified proceedings in the Clarke Scandal, the friends of the Duke of York were glad, as a last resource, to make terms with the enemy; and the conditions under which Mrs. Clarke's silence was purchased being published abroad (considering the publicity of the circumstances attending the Investigation, the terms of surrender could not be disguised), the satirists made merry over this fresh instance of tergiversation.

The edition of Mrs. Clarke's memoirs, the bombshell which threatened the aristocratic peace of mind, was purchased for a certain sum. In the print of 'Burning the Books' the heroine of the scandal is holding up the terms of surrender: '10,000l., debts paid, 600l. per annum, &c. &c.' The heroine of the memoirs is directing the destruction of her eagerly-expected volumes, containing hundreds of letters from persons of quality, including the correspondence (supposed to have been destroyed) of the Duke of York. The lady is zealous enough in the interests of her profitable clients: 'Burn away! I would burn half the universe for the money. You may preserve a copy or two for Doctor O'Meara and a few private friends. Now for my Brimstone carriage!' The printer's men are carrying piles of the offending work, and committing the edition to the flames. An acknowledgment from the publisher is on the writing-table: 'Received for paper and printing, and also for destroying this,' &c. The figure of the Duke of York is shown, slily peeping from behind a curtain; the Commander, lately resigned, is evidently delighted at the course things are taking, and is crying, 'This will do!' Many of the letters, as Mrs. Clarke declared, reflected in disrespectful terms on the heir to the throne and others of his royal brothers.

April 22, 1809. A Piece-Offering. Published by T. Tegg.—Mrs. Clarke, in all her extensive finery, is sacrificing her memoirs, Life of Mrs. Clarke, the Duke's ardent love-letters, and all the disagreeable evidences supposed to have remained in her possession, at the Altar of Repentance. The figure of the Commander is rising in effigy above the flames, in the centre of a brilliant sun; his face is turned to the authoress of the pyre with a satisfied smile. The high-priestess of the sacrifice is gratefully addressing the mollified divinity: 'Thus perish all that gives my darling pain!'

May 24, 1809. The Quaker and the Clarke. Published by T. Tegg.—A sedate Quaker, in a suit of modest brown, has turned his back on the beguiling enchantress, fair authoress of so much mischief, and is hurrying away from her entreaties 'to tarry a while,' declaring: 'Woman, avaunt! I am not to be tempted; and be it known also I am a married man,' &c.

May 28, 1809. John Bull and the Genius of Corruption. Published by T. Tegg (94).—The national prototype has been haranguing on the extinction of abuses with a compound symbolical monster, who is standing in the way of progress and healthy legislation. Mr. Bull's corrupt opponent is making the Jesuitical concession: 'What you say about Reform, Johnny, is very true, but this is not the time for it!' John Bull, who has no opinion of the obstructive party, is retorting, 'No, nor it never will be while such a monster as you remains in existence!'

The monster, who is evidently a difficult customer to deal with, wears a defensive cap of Professions and Promises; he has 'an eye to Interest,' a Mouth of Guile, and a nose to Scent for Interest; he wears the Collar of Corruption, has Wings of Speculation, Arms of Power, and Hands of Extortion, and is further provided with bags of gold for the purpose of bribery, Deep Pockets of Perquisites, Legs of Luxury, and he is propped on Feet of Connivance.

June 12, 1809. Boney's Broken Bridge.—The Austrian army is drawn up in security on one side of the river Danube; Buonaparte, in a fine rage with his discomfited generals, and his disappointed legions, are arrayed on the other bank, powerless to disturb their exulting adversaries. The Emperor is pointing to the remains of his famous bridge, and furiously demanding, in reply to the Austrian taunts: 'Ah, who is it that dares contradict me? I say it was some floating timber and the high swell of the river that caused the shocking accident!' An impolitic old general, bowing low, and in consternation at the news he is obliged to impart, is replying: 'With all due deference to your little Majesty, it was the Austrian fire-boats that destroyed the bridge.' The Archduke's troops are chanting a new edition of an old nursery rhyme:—

Boney's bridge is broken down, Dance over the Lady Lee; Boney's bridge is broken down By an Archduke—ee.

July 9, 1809. Hell Broke Loose, or the Devil to Pay among the 'Darling Angels.' Published by T. Tegg.—The dark fiend is standing at the gates of the infernal regions, scourge in hand; he is dressed in the wig and robes of a judge, and poised on a slab, setting forth the well-recognised axiom: Two of a trade can never agree. The diabolical personage is holding the balance between the two principal actors in the late proceedings. It will be remembered that a misunderstanding occurred between the chief conspirators. Soon after the conclusion of the investigation in the House of Commons, Colonel Wardle and Mrs. Clarke began to exchange mutual recriminations, and the public were gratified with fresh scandalous revelations; the champion of impartial justice began to lose his strangely-earned popularity. Colonel Wardle is plunged into the scale of Patriotism, with an infernal imp to weigh him down; the gold box, in which the freedoms of more than one town were offered to the enemy of corruption, and the York impeachment papers are thrown into the scale to make weight. Mrs. Clarke is balanced against her late coadjutor in the scale of Virtue. 'Love-letters, Mr. Wright's bill, Doctor Donovan's bill,' &c., are added to weigh against the Colonel's testimonials.

July, 1809. The Tables are Turned. How are the Mighty Fallen!—The public were treated with the spectacle of the patriotic champion sued in a law court for the furniture of Mrs. Clarke's house at Westbourne Place, which had been taken on his guarantee and recommendation. The Court gave judgment against the crestfallen Colonel, who had denied his liability, and he was adjudged to pay the heavy expenses incurred in the new establishment and the incidental costs of the process. In Rowlandson's view of the situation Mrs. Clarke is seen mounted on her asinine ex-supporter; the head of the steed bears a face suggestively resembling the countenance of the patriot; a 'Turkey carpet' furnishes a saddle; the motto England expects every man to do his duty is written on the bridle; 'Wright, the upholsterer's bill' is tied to the animal's tail; the lady is whipping up her reluctant supporter with a birch labelled 'Private promises.' The ass is scattering the chairs, tables, mirrors, fenders, and other objects particularised on 'the bill' which gave the Colonel so much irritation; the flattering presentations, addresses, gold boxes, 'Thanks to my ass,' 'Lies against the Duke of York,' 'Thanks to a Welch Billy Goat,' 'From the City of London,' 'Thanks and freedom in a gold box,' and other complimentary testimonials, are scattered on the ground. The dashing rider is making an exhibition of her skilful management of the donkey tribe:—