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

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

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

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

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

Stop, Traveller, and read.

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

JOHNNY MAC-CREE

and his faithful servant

JOHN TROTT.

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

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

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

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

Peace to their Political Manes!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October 30, 1805. Raising the Wind.

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

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

1805. Glowworms. (See July, 1812.)

1805. Muckworms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.)