1807

Previous

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

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

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

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

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

MISERIES OF LONDON.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE ENRAGED VICAR.

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

ALL THE TALENTS.

Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen ademptum.

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

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

When the Broad-Bottomed junto, all nonsense and strife,
Resigned, with a groan, its political life;
When converted to Rome, and of honesty tired,
It to Satan gave back what himself had inspired;
The Demon of Faction, that over them hung,
In accents of anguish their epitaph sung;
While Pride and Venality joined in the stave,
And canting Democracy wept on the grave.
Here lies, in the tomb that we hollowed for Pitt,
The conscience of Grenville, of Temple the wit;
Of Sidmouth the firmness, the temper of Grey,
And Treasurer Sheridan's promise to pay.
Here Petty's finance, from the evils to come,
With Fitzpatrick's sobriety creeps to the tomb;
And Chancellor Ego, now left in the lurch,
Neither laughs at the law nor cuts jokes at the Church.
Then huzza for the party that here's laid to rest—
'All the Talents,' but self-praising blockheads at best:
Though they sleep in oblivion, they've died with the hope,
At the last day of freedom, to rise with the Pope.
A NINCOMPOOP, OR HEN-PECKED HUSBAND.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 6, 1807. Monastic Fare.

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

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

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

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

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

I am a Friar of orders Grey,
And down the valleys I take my way.
I pull not Blackberry, Haw, or Hip;
Good store of ven'son does fill my scrip.
My long Bead-roll I merrily chaunt,
Wherever I walk no money I want;
And why I'm so plump, the reason I'll tell,
Who leads a good life is sure to live well;
What Baron, or Squire, or Knight of the Shire
Lives half so well as a Holy Friar?
After supper of Heav'n I dream,
But that is fat pullets and clouted cream;
Myself by denial I mortify,
With a dainty bit of a Warden pie.
I'm cloth'd in sackcloth for my sin,
With old Sack wine I'm lin'd within,
A chirping cup is my Matin song,
And the vesper's bell is my bowl—ding dong!
What Baron, or Squire, or Knight of the Shire
Lives half so well as a Holy Friar?
THE HOLY FRIAR.

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

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

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

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

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

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

MISERIES PERSONAL.

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

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

A VIEW ON THE BANKS OF THE THAMES.

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

July 9, 1807. A Cure for Lying and a Bad Memory. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg, 111 Cheapside.—A wag at one of the universities has applied to an empiric, on a visit to the neighbourhood, for a cure, as a proof of his skill, for a propensity to tell lies, and a memory which retained no recollection of what its possessor had stated last. In the picture the quack has just administered his Pillula Memoria and Anti Fibbibus; the incautious would-be waggish student is very uncomfortable, and declares he has taken 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.

ENGLISHMAN AT PARIS.

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

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

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

A CALF'S PLUCK.

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

RUSTY BACON.

1807(?) A Tour to the Lakes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Clyx.com


Top of Page
Top of Page