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."'

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 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 manoeuvres 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.

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!"'

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._

FOOTNOTE:

[5] The advice offered in the concluding line of Daniel Lambert's advertisement must, however, be followed with certain reserve. The Leicester giant's premature end is hardly an encouragement to would-be imitators. After his first visit to London, in 1806, Daniel Lambert returned to his native place; the year following he repeated his visit, but feeling oppressed by the atmosphere of the metropolis, he made a tour through the principal provincial cities and towns, where he proved a great source of attraction. We are told 'his diet was plain, and the quantity moderate, and for many years he never drank anything stronger than water. His countenance was manly and intelligent; he possessed great information, much ready politeness, and conversed with ease and facility. He had a powerful and melodious tenor voice, and his articulation was perfectly clear and unembarrassed.... Lambert had, however, for some time shown dropsical symptoms. In June, 1809, he was weighed at Huntingdon, and, by the Caledonian balance, was found to be 52 stone 11 lb.; 10 stone 4 lb. heavier than Bright, the miller of Maiden, who only lived to the age of thirty.'

A few days after this last weight was taken, on June 20, Lambert arrived from Huntingdon at the Wagon and Horses Inn, St. Martin's, Stamford, where preparations were made to receive company the next day and during the Stamford races. He was announced for exhibition; he gave his orders cheerfully, without any presentiment that they were to be his last. He was then in bed, only fatigued from his journey, but anxious to see company early in the morning. Before nine o'clock, however, the day following, he was a corpse! He died in his apartment on the ground-floor of the inn, for he had long been incapable of walking up stairs. As may be supposed from his immense bulk and weight, his interment was an arduous labour. His age was thirty-nine. At the Wagon and Horses Inn were preserved two suits of Lambert's clothes; seven ordinary-sized men were repeatedly enclosed within his waistcoat, without breaking a stitch or straining a button.

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!'

_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.'

_April 18, 1807._ _All the Talents._ Published by Stockdale, Pall Mall.

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.

_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?

_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?

_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.'

_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.)

_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 _Asafoetida_. '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.

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.

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

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

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.

FOOTNOTE:

[6] Francisco Caracci, and General Guise's collection (_Somerset-House Gazette_), from a note to Mr. Ephraim Hardcastle (Editor):--'Francisco Caracci was the younger brother of Augustino and Annibale; and Antonio, called from his deformity Il Gobbo, was the natural son of Augustino. These were the individuals who formed that celebrated family of painters. The father of Ludovico Caracci was a butcher (_era macelago_), and the father of Annibale and Augustino a tailor. Annibale resolved to mortify the pride of Ludovico, who despised him on account of his frequently reminding him of their low origin. He therefore privately painted the portraits of the Caracci, as large as life, in a butcher's shop, and showed his picture for the first time to Ludovico, when in company with Cardinal Farnese. It is now in the Guise collection, at Christ Church College, Oxford. Annibale is the butcher weighing the meat, which a soldier (Ludovico) is purchasing. Augustino stands near them. Antonio is lifting down a carcase, which conceals his deformity; and the old woman represents their mother. General Guise is said to have given 1,100_l._ for this picture, which was purchased for him at Venice. Talking of Oxford, did you ever see this collection? If the old General Guise had no more taste for fighting than for painting, I would have met him and his legions with wooden cannon. Yet I have heard certain _bigwigs_ of the University crack up the Guise Gallery! They are nice social fellows at Christ Church for all this, and men of taste; a conversation on painting is brought to table in hall there, like the wine--devilishly well iced.'

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.'

_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 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.

_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.

_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 8,000_l._ 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 coeur, 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.

'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.

'"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."

'_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.

'"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.

'"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.

'"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."

'_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.

'"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.

'The Doctor dined at the "Crown"; it was dusk when he set out northwards. I myself saw 3_s._ 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.

'_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."

'_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".

'_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.

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!'

FOOTNOTES:

[7] A learned dancing-master in the University of Oxford, who taught politeness also, and published a book upon that subject, fixed the same period for passing a stile in some cases that is here judiciously recommended for the payment of an ostler. His precept was that a well-bred man meeting another on the opposite side of a stile ought on no account to be persuaded to go over first. The name of this ingenious author was Towle. Had two zealous pupils of his school met each other at a stile, it is supposed they must have concluded their lives on the premises.

[8] James Ripley, many years ostler at the "Red Lion," who published a volume of letters.

[9] George Stevens, the originator of the 'Lecture on Heads,' was a very indifferent actor, but a man of humorous parts, and in himself was considered, by his contemporaries, most entertaining company. The idea of the lecture was given him by a country carpenter, who made the character-blocks which formed the subjects of illustration. It proved an extraordinary success in the hands of the originator. He carried it about England, through the States of America, and, on his return, to Ireland; and managed to net some ten thousand pounds by this lucky venture. After he retired more than one actor attempted it, with poor results. Lewis was the most successful of Stevens's imitators, and he had made such arrangements with the author as entitled the latter to a royalty for the use of his 'Lecture on Heads.' It probably derived its principal charm from the style of its delivery. Read in cold blood, its brilliancy and point are by no means startling.

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_.

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.

_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]

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 400_l._ 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 7,000_l._ is believed to have secured Mrs. Clarke's silence, and the annuity of 400_l._ 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 2,000_l._ 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 1,000_l._ 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 2,000_l._ 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 1,000_l._; she, however, only received 500_l._, 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 5,000_l._ in notes, and in payments to tradesmen for wine, furniture, and a variety of articles, to the amount, in the whole, of between 16,000_l._ and 17,000_l._, 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 7,000_l._ down, and an annuity of 400_l._ for her own life, and an annuity of 200_l._ each for her respective daughters, with a promise that her son shall be provided for. The printer of the work has also received 500_l._ 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 2,000_l._ 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 (400_l_. 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 100_l_. 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-manoeuvred 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 2,000_l._ 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 (800_l._) 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 2,000_l._; Dowling, 800_l._; O'Meara, 300_l._' &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 (800_l._ 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.

_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: '10,000_l._, debts paid, 600_l._ 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:--

I've a fine stud of Asses as ever was seen; This is one of the number from Westbourne Green. Gee up, Neddy, come up, Neddy, &c., What do you think of my Neddy and me?

_July 14, 1809._ _More of the Clarke, or Fresh Accusations._ Published by T. Tegg.--Colonel Wardle is exposed to the public in a humiliating position; his former mob-popularity is reversed, and their admiration is changed to ridicule. The scene is supposed to take place in front of the mansion in Westbourne Place, before which is assembled a crowd of jeering spectators. Mrs. Clarke, unabashed, as in the previous disclosures, is frankly denouncing her ex-colleague, and pointing to the luxurious fittings of her bedroom. She is unmasking the scandalised champion to his late friends the mob: 'And Clarke said unto Felix, Thou art the man;--behold the furniture! and Felix trembled.' The Colonel, whose reputation did not improve as the innuendoes of his new opponents became more daring, with clasped hands and his knees knocking together, is servilely trying to reinstate his lost reputation: 'Good people of the United Kingdom, suspend your judgment for the present, till I get this woman placed in the pillory. I never did anything naughty no more than the child unborn. It was all for the good of my country, I assure you. I am as firm a patriot as ever purchased a convex mirror or a red Turkey carpet.'

_July 16, 1809._ _The Plot Thickens, or Diamond Cut Diamond._ Published by T. Tegg.--Mrs. Clarke is still in the thick of her complications. She is standing, unmoved, in the centre of the picture. Colonel Wardle, who soon fell out with his ally when pushed to fulfil her conditions, is declaring for vengeance: 'I intend to commence an action against her for obtaining money under false pretences in the case of French's levy. I'll teach her to send gentlemen to Newgate.' Another individual, dressed as a civilian, recommends: 'Leave her to me; I'll touch her up in the furniture business!' Mrs. Clarke, with her hands on her lips, is replying: 'I don't care a fig for any of you; and as to you, Mr. Furnituremonger, I'll be beforehand with you.' A stout gentleman behind the fair _intriguante_ cries, 'That's a good girl, follow him up; I'll back you; I'll let him know whose _Wright_ and whose _Wrong_. If I don't enter an action against him I'm no upholsterer.' A young barrister, holding a voluminous brief, is smiling with satisfaction at the prospect of litigation, and encouraging both sides: 'That's right, my good friends; it's all for the _Best_!'

_July 18, 1809._ _Amusement for the Recess, or the Devil to Pay amongst the Furniture._ Published by T. Tegg.--Colonel Wardle is represented, in an infuriated state, wreaking vengeance on the offensive furniture, which had caused the destruction of his popularity and his reputation; the lately immaculate champion is armed with a bludgeon; he is trampling under foot 'An Essay on Keeping Bad Company,' and breaking up the elegant belongings of the establishment, for the privilege of supplying which he had been compelled to pay a sufficiently heavy penalty; he is made to exclaim: 'D---- the furniture, d---- the convex mirrors and red Turkey carpets; d---- Westbourne Place and everything that belongs to it.' Mrs. Clarke is rather entertained than dismayed at this spirit of wanton destructiveness: 'Deary, those little gusts of Welsh passion become you extremely; the exercise will do you good; besides, it will increase your popularity!'

_July 30, 1809._ _The Bill of Wright's, or the Patriot Alarmed._ Published by T. Tegg.--The upholsterer has waited on Colonel Wardle and unrolled his long bill: 'Gullem Waddle, Esq., to Wright. Red Turkey carpet, convex mirror, chandeliers, sideboards, bed furniture, chairs and tables, vases and cellarets, Egyptian furniture, _sofa à la Clarke_,' and other weighty items. 'Mr. Gullem Waddle, I have brought you in a small bill for goods delivered for the Cleopatra of Westbourne Place; and, as you are a true patriot, you can have no possible objection to the Bill of Wright's.' The dismayed Colonel, keeping his hands in his pockets, is making a counter-proposal: 'What do you talk about patriotism? I tell you I have left off practice. D---- the Bill of Wright's! It is all a mistake about Westbourne Place; you should have taken it to Gloucester Place--there you would be sure to have had your money!'

_August 1, 1809._ _The Mistake._ Published by T. Tegg.

_August 1, 1809._ _Wonders, Wonders, Wonders._ Published by T. Tegg. (101).--Ten figures of 'Natural Curiosities,' designed and etched by Rowlandson. A certain amount of care is bestowed on the execution of this plate. The marvels of the age in which the caricature was published have not, in most cases, become monotonously plentiful in our own day. As set down by the satirist the ten wonders were the discoveries of 'A modest woman of quality; a primitive Bishop; a real maid of five-and-thirty; an exciseman with a conscience; an author with a second suit of clothes (this fictitious person has been represented in a most jubilant fashion); a great man of common sense; a woman who has continued three months a widow; a theatrical hero of modesty and economy; a complete honest attorney;' and, lastly, 'a man of talents, wit, and learning possessed of a thousand a year.'

On the close of the Clarke Scandal, which had fitly served the purpose of the satirist, our caricaturist resumed his series of attacks upon the more memorable 'disturber of the peace of Europe.'

_August 28, 1809._ _The Rising Sun, or a View of the Continent._ Published by R. Ackermann.--Buonaparte is surrounded by the Continental Powers; his present occupation is to lull and rock to slumber, in a cradle, the Russian Bear, muzzled with French promises, and tempted with 'Turkey wheat.' The Corsican is figuratively and literally sitting on thorns; the sun of Spain and Portugal is arising on the meridian with threatening import. Sweden has taken the part of watchguard of Freedom, and is raising the cap of liberty; a Swedish huzzar is making a desperate sabre-cut at the too successful general, and sounding a warning note to the betrayed Muscovite: 'Awake, thou sluggard, ere the fatal blow is struck, and thou and thine execrable ally sunk to eternal oblivion.' The Emperor is disturbed by the new light: 'This rising sun has set me upon thorns.' The Dutchman, with a broken sceptre, is sunk in a besotted sleep on a cask of 'genuine hollands,' and leaning the weight of his fat person on his ally, who finds the weight a trifle crushing. Poland is represented as a shadow; the Prussian eagle is trussed; and the King, with straw in his hair, and confined in a strait-waistcoat, is singing mad ditties. Denmark is snuffed out under an extinguisher; but the Austrian Emperor is once more taking heart and advancing to the attack, sabre in hand, with dangerous intentions: 'Tyrant, I defy thee and thy cursed crew!'

_September 3, 1809._ _The Pope's Excommunication of Buonaparte, or Napoleon brought to his last stool._ Published by T. Tegg.--The Pope and his legates have called on the Emperor, with candle and bell, to produce an effect. The head of the Church is propped up on 'French crutches,' and his triple crown is split asunder; he is declaring: 'He has cracked my crown, overturned my temporal dignities; but I am so trammelled in these crutches that I cannot follow him as I would wish; however, my good Lord Cardinals, read him the excommunication--it will make him tremble on his throne.' The Cardinals proceed to rehearse the contents of the comminatory scroll; the Emperor, who is holding an 'Essay on the Church of Rome,' amongst other waste papers, is returning, unmoved: 'Mercy on me! I never heard anything half so dreadful. When you have done with that paper, gentlemen, I will thank you for it!'

_September 4, 1809._ _Song by Commodore Curtis._ _Tune, 'Cease, rude Boreas.'_ Published by T. Tegg.--The artist has furnished the heading for a parody setting forth the adventures of the gallant Curtis, Alderman and Commodore, with the expedition which was sent to assist our allies the Dutch against the French. Curtis is seated in his armchair in the cabin of his yacht, a great gold challenge cup, _Speedy and Soon_, in his grasp, with a turtle laid on its back by his side. A party of English officers belonging to the expedition have come on board, and they are making free with his good things; wine and punch are flowing lavishly. According to the song-writer's version these gallant warriors, having boarded the Commodore's yacht and made sad havoc with all his provisions, succeeded, after a three days' devastation, in eating and drinking all the plentiful supplies laid in by poor Curtis, until at last he began to dread that they might take it into their heads to eat him too. Although the worthy cit set out enthusiastically and filled with valour, his return was somewhat less heroic:--

From Ramsgate we set sail for Flushing, To aid our friends the Mynheers; And for the Scheld our fleet was pushing, Resolved to trounce the d----d Monsieurs!

Slightly discomfited, the Commodore sounds a retreat:--

Now farewell all my hopes of glory, Scheld's muddy flood and isles adieu; I'll lead the van with the first story, And tell the Cockneys something new. I'll talk of batteries, bloody sieges, Of fizzing bombshells, towns on fire, Till my tale the whole town obliges My deeds and courage to admire.

_September 14, 1809._ _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._ Published by T. Tegg (107).--The bust of General Chatham, crowned with bulrushes, is at the head of this satirical memorial; monkeys and frogs are grouped on either side, 'French monkeys in attitudes of derision,' and 'Dutch frogs smoking their pipes in safety.' The shield represents 'the immortal William Pitt, Earl of Chatham,' obscured in the clouds. The supporters of the escutcheon are a 'British seaman in the dumps,' and 'John Bull, somewhat gloomy--but for what it is difficult to guess, after so glorious an achievement.'

_The Motto._

Great Chatham, with one hundred thousand men, To Flushing sailed, and then sailed back again.

The fleet is represented sailing homeward under the 'Sun of Glory.' 'A flying view of the return of the expedition. _O tempora! O mores!_'

_September 24, 1809._ _General Cheathem's marvellous Return from his Exhibition of Fireworks._ Published by T. Tegg (108).--The General is returning from the abortive Walcheren Expedition, mounted on a flying wooden horse, which, like Don Quixote's and other enchanted steeds, is performing wonders in the way of discharging rockets; on one side of the General swings a fleet of ships, 'Wooden castles in the air,' balanced by such empty bladders as the 'Walcheren Expedition,' 'Bereland, plan and fortifications of Flushing,' &c. The glorious General has taken a pair of Dutch dolls captive, and these are the chief trophies of his adventure. 'Here I am, my dear Johnny, escaped from fire, water, plague, pestilence, and famine; my fireworks have given general satisfaction abroad. I must now couch on a "bed of roses," and hope when I awake to be rewarded with a pension and dukedom for brilliant services.' Mr. Bull and his lady are standing on their own shores, deeply impressed with the General's manoeuvres. Cries Mrs. Bull, 'Lord, what a man of mettle he is!' John Bull is grasping his thick stick in a way that looks menacing: 'General Cheathem flying back, as I foretold, garnished out with drops and Dutch metal. Where is the ten million of British bullion, you scarecrow? The Sinking Fund suits your talents better than sinking of ships.' Commodore Curtis, in his yacht, is sailing away from the 'mortality at Flushing,' and shouting in great glee: 'A new contract for mouldy biscuits. Expeditions for ever. Huzza!'

1809. _A Plan for a General Reform._ Published by T. Tegg.

_September 27, 1809._ _This is the House that Jack Built._ (_Old Price Row at Drury Lane._) Published by T. Tegg.--This cartoon, in six compartments, is aimed at Kemble's new house, which, from certain arrangements of the boxes, and other innovations, became the cause of considerable turbulence--

These are the Boxes let to the great That visit the House that Jack built.

The curtain of the theatre bears the advertisement: 'Grand theatrical Bagnio, fitted up in the Italian style;' 'Lodgings to let for the season, or a single night;' 'Roomy pit for parsons, poets, Presbyterians, Quakers, grumblers,' &c.; 'Boxes for the Cyprian corps, with snug lobby to ditto;' 'Private accommodations for the Members of both Houses of Parliament;' '_Boudoirs pour la Noblesse_;' 'Rabbit hutches, seven shillings each;' 'Humbug gallery, _two shillings_;' and, chief cause of dissatisfaction, 'Pigeon-holes for the swinish multitude':--

These are the pigeon-holes over the Boxes, Let to the great that visit the House that Jack built. This is the Cat engaged to squall to the poor in the pidgeon-holes over the Boxes, let to the great that visit the House that Jack built.

Madame Catalini is endeavouring to sing; but the audience, armed with rattles, post-horns, and other noisy instruments, are raising a regular uproar:--

This is John Bull with a bugle-horn, That hissed the Cat engaged to squall to the poor, &c. This is the Thief-taker,[21] shaven and shorn, That took up John Bull, with his bugle-horn, &c.--

The rioters are having a regular stand-up fight outside the theatre, as well as within. The last verse--

This is the Manager, full of scorn, Who rais'd the price to the people forlorn, &c., And directed the Thief-taker, shaven and shorn, &c.--

introduces the great John Kemble at the foot-lights, haranguing his unruly audience; the house is represented much as it actually appeared; the rioters, provided with squirts, bellows, marrow-bones, cleavers, rattles, cow-horns, and all sorts of rough music, in short, every instrument of noise that ingenuity could suggest, with huge streamers, banners, and placards, held out on long poles, &c., containing such announcements as 'No theatrical taxation,' 'No intriguing shop,' 'No annual boxes,' 'No Italian singers,' 'None of your Jesuitical tricks, you black monk,' 'Be silent, Mr. Kemble's head _aitches_,' 'Kemble, remember the Dublin tin-man,' 'Dickons for ever, no Catalini.'

_September 30, 1809._ _A Lump of Impertinence._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Published by T. Tegg.--'Who the devil do you stare at? Get along about your business.'

1809(?). _A Lump of Innocence._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sc.--A florid beauty, of the fat, fair, forty, and full-blown type, is 'affecting a modesty, though she has it not;' her eyes are downcast, and a blush suffuses all over, her cheeks being about the colour of a bumper of rubicund cognac brandy which she is imbibing, probably with a view to hide her sensibility: 'Really, gentlemen, if you gaze at me in this manner you will put me quite to the blush!'

_October 9, 1809._ _Miseries of Human Life._ Published by T. Tegg (257).

1809. _Business and Pleasure._ Published by T. Tegg (292).

_October 24, 1809._ _Preparations for the Jubilee, or Theatricals Extraordinary._ Published by T. Tegg.--A range of booths occupies the background of the view; a pole is erected before each of the tents, displaying a flag and an advertising poster, indicating the nature of the show provided within. The preparations are being completed, the workmen are putting the finishing strokes in readiness for opening. Under the union-jack is _Perceval, Eldon & Co.'s Pic Nic Entertainments; any port in a storm_. Under 'false colours' is Don John's booth, announcing, _Set a beggar on horseback, he'll ride to the devil_, with the _Row, or a fig for John Bull_. Mr. Canning's Booth advertises _The Double Dealer_, with _The Duellist_. Lord Mulgrave offers _A Chapter of Accidents_, with _'Tis well 'tis no Worse_. Lord Castlereagh promises _The Revenge_, with _Who would have thought it?_ Lord Wellington's booth has _The Wild Goose Chase_, with _The Wanderer_. Under a huge cocked-hat, as a sign, is General Chatham's booth, 'Just arrived from Flushing.' A comedy called _Delays and Blunders_, to which will be added _He will be a Soldier_, is the bill offered from Holland. Mrs. Clarke's booth presents _A new melodrama_, called _More Secrets than One_, with _Various Deceptions_; and her neighbour, Colonel Wardle, promises _Plot and Counter Plot_, with the farce of the _Upholsterer_.

_October 25, 1809._ _A Bill of Fare for Bond Street Epicures._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Published by T. Tegg (188).--Six subjects, representing fair and fashionably-dressed female loungers of the period, parodied under the several descriptions of _À la Mode Beef_, _Rump of Beef_, _Breast of Veal_, _Veal Cutlets_, _Baron of Beef_, and _Pork Sausage_. The figures of these various personages are marked with spirit, and the respective attributes are conveyed with a certain humorous appropriateness.

1809. _A Bill of Fare for Bond Street Epicures._ Published by T. Tegg.--A variation of the subjects published under a similar title, in which the charms of numerous females are set forth under figurative titles; the persons of six ladies are displayed in this print, their personal attractions being grotesquely set off as _Pigs Pettitoes_, _Scrag of Mutton_, _Leg of Lamb_, _Polony_, _Cod's Head and Shoulders_, and _Lamb Chop, with Mint Sauce_. (Republished from 1808. Companion to No. 188. Published October 25, 1809.)

_December 1, 1809._ _Cattle not Insurable._

_Hopes of the Family, or Miss Marrowfat Home for the Holidays._ Published by T. Tegg (No. 293).

_December 12, 1809._ _The Boxes._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi:--

O woe is me, 't have seen what I have seen; Seeing what I see!--SHAKESPEARE.

The artist has given a view of the 'pigeon-holes' at Drury Lane, as the new gallery in 'the house that Jack built' was derisively christened; the present plate offers a burlesque representation of the refined parts of the house, taken possession of by a company more miscellaneous than select. The 'rabbit-hutches,' at seven shillings, are given up to owls and deaf people; a narrow row below, in which the space is so confined that it is impossible for the spectators to stand upright, is held by Irish cabmen, roughs smoking long clay pipes, &c.; below these, in the _boudoirs pour la noblesse_, we find the servants of the great, dramdrinking, hobanobbing, and flirting. The occupants of the rest of the private boxes are of a ruffianly type; big sticks and publican's pewter measures are noticeable, besides gentlemen with damaged optics, and without coats; a great dog, ladies from St. Giles's, and similarly distinguished members of society. A scene of quarrelling, practical joking, and general uproar is proceeding below.

_December 23, 1809._ _A Peep at the Gas Lights in Pall Mall._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sc.--The sketch represents a view of the first thoroughfare where gas was employed to illuminate the streets. Mr. Ackermann, the publisher, was one of the earliest to light his Repository with gas, which he manufactured for the purpose, and was at considerable expense in providing apparatus and making experiments in improving the process. The sightseers are lost in wonder and admiration at the novelty of finding gas burning in the streets; the lamps are arranged in branches of three. A gentleman of fashion is endeavouring to explain the science of gas-making to an elegant creature on his arm: 'The coals being steamed, produce tar or paint for the outside of houses; the smoke passing through water is deprived of substance, and burns as you see.' An Irish visitor, who has, uninvited, been attending to this lucid explanation, is bursting out with 'Arrah, honey, if this man brings fire through water we shall soon have the Thames and the Liffey burnt down, and all the pretty little herrings and whales burnt to cinders!' Amongst other wondergazers is a country farmer, who is exclaiming, 'Wauns, what a main pretty light it be! we have nothing like it in our country.' A Quaker, his companion, is responding, 'Ay, friend, but it is all vanity; what is this to the inward light?' The more disreputable members of the community are reflecting that the new light will expose their depravities and put a stop to their commerce.

_December, 1809._ _Joint Stock Street._ Woodward del., Rowlandson fecit. Published by T. Tegg (174).--From this satire it seems that a company-mania must have raged in 1809, suggestive, in its extravagance, of the days of the South Sea Bubble. In front of the _Hospital for Incurables_ is a blank wall, covered with advertisements of various joint-stock enterprises, which are attracting the attention of the speculative. There is a _Doctors' Company_, offering incalculable advantages: 'No charge for emetics, &c.; patent coffins provided on the shortest notice; no surgeons admitted.' '_A Company of Menders_, open to both sexes; wives to mend their husbands, husbands to mend their wives, and most particularly, everybody to mend themselves.' _Company of White-washers. N.B. No lawyers admitted. More advantages; a new Cabbage and Potatoe Company, warranted genuine; no cooking required, saves time and trouble._ At the corner of Bubble Alley is the following tempting notice: _Peter Puff, manufacturer of deal boards without knots, from genuine sawdust, &c._ And outside a miserable hovel is the advertisement of _Tim Slashem, barber, and perriwig maker, who has a company in formation of mowers of beards by a new machine, to shave sixty men in a minute, to comb, oil, and powder their wigs in the bargain_.

_December 24, 1809._ _The Bull and Mouth._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sc. Published by T. Tegg (290).--A corpulent gentleman, wearing a dressing-gown and nightcap, is yawning and stretching in his armchair. His huge head and gaping jaws would furnish forth excellently well a sign for the _Bull and Mouth_. By his side stands a handsome and highly developed lady, who is taking advantage of the sleepiness of her rude monster to slip a _billet-doux_ into the hand of a military officer, who is waiting in the rear.

1809. _A Glee. How shall we Mortals Spend our Hours? In Love! in War! in Drinking!_ Published by T. Tegg.--Three figures, represented as seated at table, with all the appointments and accessories incidental to the brewing of punch, carry out the spirit of the quotation. The lover, a smart young buck, in top-boots, is rapturously clasping his hands, after a toast, in inward contemplation of the perfections of his mistress. An old Commodore illustrates the idea of a life spent in warfare--although minus an eye and a leg, he is tough and hearty, and is seemingly content with his pipe and bowl. The brutalising results of hours devoted to mere bestial intoxication are realised in the person of a slovenly and imbecile sot.

1809. _Rowlandson's Sketches from Nature._ Drawn and etched by Rowlandson. Stadler, aquatinta. Published by T. Tegg.

A View in Camelford, Cornwall Sept. 1, 1809. The Seat of M. Mitchell, Esq., Hengar, Cornwall Sept. 1 " A Cottage in the Duchy of Cornwall Sept. 1 " Village of St. Udy, Cornwall Sept. 1 " Fowey, Cornwall Sept. 30 " A View near Richmond Oct. 4 " A View in Devonshire Oct. 4 " Taunton Vale, Somersetshire Nov. 25 " View near Newport, Isle of Wight Nov. 25 " Temple at Strawberry Hill Nov. 25 " White Lion Inn, Ponders End, Middlesex Nov. 25 "

STERNE'S 'SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY.'

CALAIS.

_The Coach-yard of Monsieur Dessein's Inn._--'This certainly, fair lady,' said I, raising her hand up a little lightly as I began, 'must be one of Fortune's whimsical doings: to take two utter strangers by their hands--of different sexes, and perhaps from different corners of the globe--and in one moment place them together in such a cordial situation as Friendship herself could scarce have achieved for them, had she projected it for a month.'

'And your reflection upon it shews how much, monsieur, she has embarrassed you by the adventure.' In saying this she disengaged her hand with a look which I thought a sufficient commentary upon the text.

The triumphs of a true feminine heart are short upon these discomfitures. In a very few seconds she laid her hand upon the cuff of my coat, in order to finish her reply.

* * * * *

I fear, in this interval, I must have made some slight efforts towards a closer compression of her hand, from a subtle sensation I felt in the palm of my own--not as if she was going to withdraw hers, but as if she thought about it--and I had infallibly lost it a second time, had not instinct more than reason directed me to the last resource in these dangers--to hold it loosely, and in a manner as if I was every moment going to release it of myself; so she let it continue, till Monsieur Dessein returned with the key; and in the meantime I set myself to consider how I should undo the ill impressions which the poor monk's story, in case he had told it her, must have planted in her breast against me.

_The Snuffbox._--The good old monk was within six paces of us, as the idea of them crossed my mind, and was advancing towards us a little out of the line, as if uncertain whether he should break in upon us or no. He stopped, however, as soon as he came up to us, with a world of frankness; and having a horn snuffbox in his hand, he presented it, open, to me. 'You shall taste mine,' said I, pulling out my box (which was a small tortoiseshell one), and putting it into his hand. ''Tis most excellent,' said the monk. 'Then do me the favour,' I replied, 'to accept of the box and all; and, when you take a pinch out of it, sometimes recollect it was the peace offering of a man who once used you unkindly, but not from his heart.'

The poor monk blushed as red as scarlet. '_Mon Dieu!_' said he, pressing his hands together, 'you never used me unkindly.' 'I should think,' said the lady, 'he is not likely.' I blushed in my turn, but from what movements I leave to the few who feel to analyse. 'Excuse me, madame,' replied I, 'I treated him most unkindly, and from no provocations.' ''Tis impossible,' said the lady. 'My God!' cried the monk, with a warmth of asseveration which seemed not to belong to him, 'the fault was in me, and in the indiscretion of my zeal.' The lady opposed it, and I joined with her in maintaining it was impossible that a spirit so regulated as his could give offence to any.

I knew not that contention could be rendered so sweet and pleasurable a thing to the nerves as I then felt it. We remained silent, without any sensations of that foolish pain which takes place when in such a circle you look for ten minutes in one another's faces without saying a word. Whilst this lasted, the monk rubbed his horn box upon the sleeve of his tunic; and as soon as it had acquired a little air of brightness by the friction, he made a low bow and said 'twas too late to say whether it was the weakness or goodness of our tempers which had involved us in this contest; but be it as it would, he begged we might exchange boxes. In saying this he presented his to me with one hand as he took mine from me in the other, and having kissed it, with a stream of good nature in his eyes, he put it into his bosom--and took his leave.

I guard this box, as I would the instrumental parts of my religion, to help my mind on to something better: in truth, I seldom go abroad without it; and oft and many a time have I called up by it the courteous spirit of its owner to regulate my own, in the jostlings of the world: they had found full employment for his, as I learnt from his story, till about the forty-fifth year of his age, when, upon some military services ill requited, and meeting at the same time a disappointment in the tenderest of passions, he abandoned the sword and the sex together, and took sanctuary, not so much in his convent as in himself.

I feel a damp upon my spirits as I am going to add, that in my last return through Calais, upon enquiring after Father Lorenzo, I heard he had been dead near three months, and was buried, not in his convent, but, according to his desire, in a little cemetery belonging to it, about two leagues off. I had a strong desire to see where they had laid him--when, upon pulling out his little horn box, as I sat by his grave, and plucking up a nettle or two at the head of it, which had no business to grow there, they all struck together so forcibly upon my affections, that I burst into a flood of tears. But I am as weak as a woman; and I beg the world not to smile, but pity me.

MONTRIUL.

_The Bidet._--When all is ready, and every article is disputed and paid for in the inn, unless you are a little soured by the adventure, there is always a matter to compound at the door, before you can get into your chaise; and that is with the sons and daughters of poverty, who surround you. Let no man say, 'Let them go to the devil'--'tis a cruel journey to send a few miserables, and they have had sufferings enow without it. I always find it better to take a few sous out in my hand; and I would counsel every gentle traveller to do so likewise: he need not be so exact in setting down his motives for giving them--they will be registered elsewhere.

* * * * *

Having settled all these small matters, I got into my postchaise with more ease than ever I got into a postchaise in my life; and La Fleur having got one large jack-boot on the far side of a little _bidet_ (post-horse), and another on this (for I count nothing of his legs), he cantered away before me, as happy and as perpendicular as a prince.

But what is happiness! What is grandeur in this painted scene of life! A dead ass, before we had got a league, put a stop to La Fleur's career--his _bidet_ would not pass it; a contention arose betwixt them, and the poor fellow was kicked out of his jack-boots the very first kick.

La Fleur bore his fall like a French Christian, saying neither more or less upon it than _Diable!_ so presently got up and came to the charge again--then this way--then that way: and, in short, every way but by the dead ass. La Fleur insisted upon the thing--and the _bidet_ threw him.

'What's the matter, La Fleur,' said I, 'with this _bidet_ of thine?' '_Monsieur_,' said he, '_c'est un cheval le plus opiniatre du monde_.' 'Nay, if he is a conceited beast, he must go his own way,' replied I. So La Fleur got off him, and giving him a good sound lash, the _bidet_ took me at my word, and away he scampered back to Montriul. '_Peste!_' said La Fleur.

* * * * *

_Le Diable!_ which is the first and positive degree, is generally used for ordinary emotions of the mind, where small things only fall out contrary to your expectation, such as--the throwing one's doublets--La Fleur's being kicked off his horse, and so forth--cuckoldom, for the same reason, is always--_Le Diable!_

But in cases where the cast has something provoking in it, as in that of the _bidet's_ running away after--and leaving La Fleur aground in jack-boots--'tis the second degree. 'Tis then _Peste!_

As there was no hunting down a frightened horse in jack-boots, there remained no alternative but taking La Fleur either behind the chaise or into it.

I preferred the latter, and in half an hour we got to the post-house at Namport.

NAMPORT.

_The Dead Ass._--'And this,' said he, putting the remains of a crust into his wallet, 'and this should have been thy portion,' said he, 'had'st thou been alive to have shared it with me.' I thought by the accent it had been an apostrophe to his child; but it was to his ass, and to the very ass we had seen dead in the road, which had occasioned La Fleur's misadventure. The man seemed to lament it much; and it instantly brought into my mind Sancho's lamentation for his; but he did it with more true touches of nature.

The mourner was sitting upon a stone bench at the door, with the ass's pannel and its bridle on one side, which he took up from time to time--then laid them down--looked at them, and shook his head. He then took his crust of bread out of his wallet again, as if to eat it; held it some time in his hand, then laid it upon the bit of his ass's bridle--looked wistfully at the little arrangement he had made, and then gave a sigh.

The simplicity of his grief drew numbers about him, and La Fleur among the rest, whilst the horses were getting ready; as I continued sitting in the postchaise, I could see and hear over their heads.

He said he had come last from Spain, where he had been from the farthest borders of Franconia, and had got so far on his return home, when his ass died. Everyone seemed desirous to know what business could have taken so old and poor a man so far a journey from his own home.

It had pleased heaven, he said, to bless him with three sons, the finest lads in Germany; but having, in one week, lost two of them by the smallpox, and the youngest falling ill of the distemper, he was afraid of being bereft of them all; and made a vow, if heaven would not take him from him also, he would go, in gratitude, to St. Jago, in Spain.

When the mourner got thus far in his story he stopped to pay Nature her tribute, and wept bitterly.

He said heaven had accepted the conditions, and that he had set out from his cottage with this poor creature, who had been a patient partner of his journey--that it had eat the same bread with him all the way and was unto him as a friend. Everybody who stood about heard the poor fellow with concern. La Fleur offered him money. The mourner said he did not want it--it was not the value of the ass, but the loss of him. The ass, he said, he was assured loved him--and upon this told them a long story of mischance upon their passage over the Pyrenean mountains, which had separated them from each other three days: during which time the ass had sought him as much as he had sought the ass, and that they had neither scarce eat or drank till they met.

'Thou hast one comfort, friend,' said I, 'at least in the loss of thy poor beast: I am sure thou hast been a merciful master to him.' 'Alas!' said the mourner, 'I thought so when he was alive, but now he is dead I think otherwise. I fear the weight of myself and my afflictions together have been too much for him--they have shortened the poor creature's days, and I fear I have them to answer for.' 'Shame on the world!' said I to myself, 'did we love each other as this poor soul but loved his ass, 'twould be something.'

1809. _Butler's Hudibras_, in three parts, written in the time of the late wars, corrected and amended, with large annotations and preface, by Zachary Grey, LL.D. Embellished with engravings by T. Rowlandson, Esq. London: Printed for T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside. W. Hogarth, inv.; Rowlandson, sc.

1. Frontispiece. Hudibras and Ralpho in the Stocks.

2. Setting out.

Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling, And out he rode a-colonelling.

3. The Battle.

The scatter'd rout return and rally, Surround the place; the Knight does sally, And is made pris'ner.

4. The Knight and Ralpho consult the Gymnosophist.

The Knight with various doubt posses't To win the lady goes in quest Of Sidrophel, the Rosy-Crucian, To know the Dest'nies' resolution; With whom b'ing met, they both chop logic About the science astrologic; 'Till falling from dispute to fight, The conj'rer's worsted by the Knight.

5. Sidrophel and Whacum consulting the firmament.

This said, he to his engine flew, Plac'd near at hand in open view, And rais'd it 'till it levell'd right Against the glowworm tail of Kite, Then peeping thro', Bless us (quoth he) It is a planet, now I see, And, if I err not, by his proper Figure, that's like tobacco stopper, It should be Saturn.

1809. _Surprising Adventures Of the Renowned Baron Munchausen._ Containing singular travels, campaigns, voyages, and adventures. Embellished with numerous engravings by T. Rowlandson. London: Printed for T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.

Frontispiece.--Baron Munchausen's extraordinary flight on the back of an eagle, and supported by a second eagle, from Margate over the continents of Europe, South and North America, the Polar regions, and back to Margate, within thirty-six hours.

The Baron arrives at Ceylon, combats and conquers two extraordinary opponents (a lion and a crocodile).

The snow having melted, the Baron discovers his horse in the air, secured by the bridle to the church steeple; the Baron proves himself a good shot, cuts the bridle in two, and resumes his journey.

Is presented with a famous horse by Count Przolossky, with which he performs many extraordinary feats; the horse is cut in two by the portcullis of Oczakow, which the Baron only discovers when he leads his spirited steed to drink at the fountain, and the water flows out at the rear of the severed half.

Bathes in the Mediterranean, is swallowed by a fish, from which he is extricated by dancing a hornpipe.

The Baron jumps into the sea with a Turkish piece of ordnance on his shoulders (which fires a marble ball of three hundred pounds weight) and swims across the Simois.

The ship, driven by a whirlwind, a thousand leagues above the surface of the waters; the Baron discovers the inhabitants of the moon, with some traders from the Dog Star.

Travelling in the South Sea they lose their compass; their ship slips between the teeth of a fish unknown in this part of the world.

The Baron crosses the Thames without the assistance of a bridge, ship, boat, balloon, or even his own will; being blown out of one of the Tower guns in which he had fallen asleep, and the cannon is unexpectedly fired to celebrate an anniversary.

1809. _The Beauties of Sterne_; comprising his humorous and descriptive _Tales, Letters, &c._ Embellished by caricatures by Rowlandson, from original drawings by Newton. Published by T. Tegg, Cheapside.

Frontispiece. The Dance at Amiens, &c.

1809. _Poetical Magazine._ Dedicated to the lovers of the Muse by the Agent of the goddess, R. Ackermann. Published November 1, 1809, at R. Ackermann's Repository of Arts, 101 Strand.

Introduction to _The Schoolmasters Tour_. Vol. 1.--'In the Tour, with the first part of which we here present our readers, the author carries his hero through a great variety of whimsical adventures, to the Lakes and back again. As tours are a fashionable article in the literature of the present day, we trust that the poetical peregrinations of Doctor Syntax will come in for some share, at least, of the public applause, to which we conceive it to be entitled. The lovers of humour will not be displeased to be informed that it will be accompanied with a considerable number of illustrative engravings.'

CARICATURES SUPPLIED BY ROWLANDSON TO THE _POETICAL MAGAZINE_.