January 1, 1814. The Double Humbug, or the Devil's Imp Praying for Peace. Published by R. Ackermann.—In two compartments: Napoleon before his Slaves, and Napoleon before his Conquerors. The first view represents the Senate; the Emperor is standing on his throne, which is propped upon the crowns of conquered kingdoms; his dark friend, the Devil, is leaning over the back of the Imperial chair and prompting the specious harangue which Napoleon is addressing to the senators, who do not seem to be much interested in the proclamation, and, on the whole, according to the artist's showing, look very like a body of imbeciles. Extracts from Buonaparte's Speech. Sunday, December 19, 1813.—'Senators, Councillors of State, Deputies from the Departments to the Legislative Body,—Splendid victories have raised the glory of the French arms during this campaign. In these weighty circumstances it was my first thought to call you all around me. I have never been seduced by prosperity; I have conceived and executed great designs for the prosperity and the happiness of the world. As a monarch and a father, I feel that peace adds to the security of thrones and that of families. I have accepted proposals and the preliminaries. It is necessary to recruit my armies by numerous levies, and an increase of taxes becomes indispensable. I am satisfied with the sentiments of my people of Italy, Denmark, Naples, America, and the nineteen Swiss Cantons, and have acknowledged the laws which England has in vain sought, during four centuries, to impose on France. I have ordered discharges of artillery on my coming and leaving you.'

The other side of the picture displays the fallen Emperor under an entirely opposite aspect; this time he has to confront his enemies, and a totally changed demeanour is adopted. The Corsican is on his knees; before him is his sword, a pile of standards, and the diadems he had abstracted from numerous crowned heads; the crown of France he has tucked under his arm; all the rest he is offering to restore to his enemies, the rightful owners, who have mustered in force and are completely masters of the situation. The attitudes of the Allies are expressive of their indignation at 'Boney's' shameful avowals; while Talleyrand, on his lame leg, in the greatest trepidation at the dangers which face him, is offering to swear to the truth of the damaging admissions which his master has found it expedient to make, since falsehood will not serve him in this quarter.

'Gentlemen, Emperors, Rhenish Confederations, &c., &c., &c.,—Behold before you a fallen impostor, who has for many years been drunk and intoxicated with ambition, arrogance, and insolence; who has deceived, cheated, and tricked you on many occasions; who has foolishly and wickedly lost, within a twelvemonth, a million of brave but deluded Frenchmen; who has conceived the great and diabolical design of enslaving the world, and has lost all his friends except Yankee Maddison. Now, gentlemen, to make amends for my sins, I solicit your pardon and ask for peace on your own terms, gentlemen, and I will strictly adhere to it till.... You may take all those crowns back again, except the one belonging to the Bourbons. My Empress sends you also back the twenty flags I found in some of the churches, in the course of my flight from Leipzig. As for the story, gentlemen, of the corporal and the blowing up of the bridge, you must know 'twas mere humbug to gull the lads of Paris.'

January 1, 1814. Death and Buonaparte. Published at Ackermann's Repository.—The Corsican, who had faced and conquered Fate on so many fields of battle, is at length confronted with the grim foe under circumstances which lend additional terrors to his proximity. The reverses which overtook the conqueror at Leipzig are already threatening the downfall of that intrepid will and shaking a self-possession hitherto imperturbable.

Rowlandson has taken advantage of the thickening disasters, which had then commenced to check the prowess of the Emperor's armies, to represent the Corsican in a fit of despondency, forlorn and abstracted, seated on a drum in an attitude of dejection, with his head between his hands, staring in the face of the King of Terrors, of whose close company he is seemingly too self-occupied to take much heed. The grim destroyer, as the skeleton Death, is watching the baffled general face to face, assuming a parody of his attitude, and seated on a gun, with a broken eagle standard at his bony feet. The Russian, Austrian, Prussian, Bavarian, and other allied armies are streaming along in unbroken hosts, scattering the dismayed legions of France, and making havoc amidst the ranks of the discouraged Grand Army, which is melting away before the combined forces.

The transparency exhibited at Ackermann's Repository (See Nov. 5, 1813) on the occasion of the illuminations for the victory of Leipzig.

January, 1814. Madame VÉry, Restaurateur, Palais Royal, Paris. T. N. del., Rowlandson sculp. (348).

January, 1814. La Belle LimonadiÈre au CafÉ des Mille Colonnes. Palais Royal, Paris. T. N. del., Rowlandson sculp.

An extract from Planta's 'New Picture of Paris' is added by way of footnote: 'The CafÉ des Mille Colonnes is in the Palais Royal, and receives its title from the beautiful gilt columns which are reflected by enormous mirrors, disposed with such skill that they appear to be at least a thousand. The room presents an overwhelming glare of decoration. The priestess, or rather the divinity, of this luxurious temple is unrivalled among these places of public entertainment for the charms of her person, the splendour of her dress, and the elegance of her manners. The elevated seat which she occupies was once the throne of the Viceroy of Italy, and was purchased by the proprietor of the coffee-house for the exorbitant sum of twelve thousand livres.'

January 30, 1814. Quarter Day, or Clearing the Premises, without consulting your Landlord. Published by T. Tegg (318).—A cart has been driven to the door of a certain residence, and the ladies of the establishment are hastily heaping all the contents of the house—furniture, bedding, culinary, and other utensils—indiscriminately into the conveyance.

February 10, 1814. Kicking up a Breeze, or Barrow-women Basting a Beadle. Published by T. Tegg (310).—The beadle of a provision market, who has laid hands on the barrow of a seller of black puddings, has been seized by the nose, in a fashion to blind both eyes at once, by a muscular female, to whom the overturned barrow belongs; her stalwart right arm and massive fist at the same time are making energetic play on the person of the discomfited functionary, who has become, from some act of interference on his part, the centre of a general attack; a dog is threatening his legs, and a hag is belabouring his rear with her basket. Butchers and poulterers' men are enjoying the diversion.

February 14, 1814. Progress of Gallantry, or Stolen Kisses Sweetest. Published by T. Tegg (313).

February 20, 1814. A Tailor's Wedding. Published by T. Tegg (315).

March 1, 1814. Crimping a Quaker. Published by T. Tegg (317, originally published as 261).

March 2, 1814. Head Runner of Runaways from Leipzig Fair. Published by R. Ackermann, Strand.—The Emperor Napoleon, dressed in the simple and familiar habit by which his figure is best recognised, the little cocked hat, the green coat, buttoned across the chest, the white waistcoat and breeches, is tearing his hardest towards 'Maynz' and the Rhine; a frightened hare, suggestive of the Imperial courage, is scampering before him and marking the way. The 'little Corporal' carries, instead of a walking-stick, the effigy of the great Emperor of Germany, Carolus Magnus, at the head of a pole. On his back is a pack, from which the various collections he had previously gathered are suffered to escape: Italy, Holland, Switzerland, Rheinland, Hanstat DÉpartement, Poland; paper prints of soldiers, Alte Garde and Junge Garde—are blowing away and being left behind in the flight.

March 12, 1814. The Devil's Darling. Published by R. Ackermann.—The Dark Fiend in person, drawn on a tremendous scale, with his claws, horns, hoofs, tail, and terror-striking accessories, is seated on his sulphurous floor, cradling and dandling his pet progeny, 'Little Boney;' the figure of the Corsican is wrapped up like a mummy in swaddling-clothes, bound round with tricolor ribands; the face is alone exposed; and his Infernal Majesty is contemplating the calm, thoughtful, wax mask-like countenance of his reputed vicegerent on earth with earnest attention; his own features are wearing an expression which is at least threatening; the Legion of Honour, instituted by the Emperor, is held out by the apocryphal fiend as a bauble to tempt the spoiled child in his lap.

April 9, 1814. Blucher the Brave extracting the Groan of Abdication from the Corsican Bloodhound. Published by T. Tegg (322).—The Corsican has been run down; the sturdy figure of the indomitable General Blucher is shown acting as his executioner. Having come up with the enemy and beaten him, the general is shaking the bloodhound out of his trappings; sword, diadem, and habit are cast aside, and the creature is swinging in the Prussian's iron grasp, a mere frightened cur, with nothing of the dreaded 'Boney' left but his head. A boat is on the shore, and the fugitive, Brother Joe, the rejected 'intrusive King' of Spain, in mortal terror is running his hardest to embark for the Island of Elba; the boatman is loading in the future provision, £20,000 a year, the income decreed the Corsican for his new state. Besides the deportation of the Buonapartes another scene is transpiring: Louis the Eighteenth, a portly and good-natured-looking sovereign, is received with acclamations from all sides, while his friends the Allies discreetly remain in the rear; the white flag of the Bourbons, with its fleur de lis, is waving over the restored descendant of St. Louis; the monarch's legitimate crown is restored, and the figure of Peace personified is adding a laurel wreath; Churchmen and some of 'Nap's' old servants are offering their homage, and the wily Talleyrand has apparently 'ratted' judiciously at the critical moment, as the change of masters has not displaced the veteran diplomatist, and he is waiting on the King with a new 'list of ministers for your Majesty's approval.'

April 12, 1814. Coming in at the Death of the Corsican Fox. Scene the Last. Published by R. Ackermann.—Neither the subject nor its title are altogether original, as, some six years previously, Rowlandson's contemporary, James Gillray, had chosen to illustrate the reverses which had attended the French arms in Spain by a similar cartoon, in which George the Third appeared as the huntsman, holding out the carcass of the Corsican fox. Both conceptions, in these instances, as subsequent events proved, were somewhat premature as far as the conclusiveness of the performance was concerned.

Prince Blucher, the valiant old trooper, has taken the lead of the field; he has dismounted from his horse, whose bridle he is holding in his left hand, while his right is locked round the throat of the Fox, who is struggling and clawing vainly to get free; 'Boney's' face is turning the pallid hue of deadly fear in sight of the eager pack of hounds, which are showing their teeth and leaping forward to rend the vermin to fragments; the dogs are of good strain; on their collars may be read the names of those generals who finally outwitted the Corsican—Wellington, Swartzenberg, Kutusoff, Platoff, Crown Prince, York, &c., &c. The allied Emperors and Kings are riding down to be 'in at the death,' and in the distance are seen burning towns, which have been recently devastated by the ravages of the Corsican in his career of ambition.

April 12, 1814. Bloody Boney, the Carcass Butcher, left off Trade and Retiring to Scarecrow Island. Published by T. Tegg (323).—The exiled general is reduced from his state; he is meanly travelling Elbawards, and has reached the seashore, whence he is to embark for his island residence. A gibbet by the way, with a rope in readiness, is serving as a fingerpost to point the road; vultures, which fly round this suggestive object, express a desire to pick the bones of the retiring 'carcass butcher.' All the splendours of 'Boney's' surroundings are stripped bare; he is riding on a rough-coated donkey, and wearing a 'fool's cap' in place of a crown; his only provision is a bag of brown bread; his consort, loose and ragged, is seated at the crupper on the same beast, which is being unmercifully flogged with a stick labelled 'BÂton MarcÉchal;' 'Boney' is lost in terror; his juvenile heir, lately made King of Rome, is preceding the cortÉge, mounted on a 'Corsican dog.'

A French postilion, of the old school, is jumping about for joy, in his huge bucket-like jack-boots, flourishing his whip, and rejoicing to see the backs of the usurping Corsican and his party: 'Be gar, you coquin, now I shall drive my old friends and bonnes customers de English. Vive le Roi et la Poste Royale!'

April 15, 1814. The Rogue's March. Published by T. Tegg (321).

General Prince Blucher is leading off the two convicts; a halter is round 'Boney's' neck; he has donkey's ears, and is made to wear a fool's cap, inscribed, 'Transported for life;' his face bears a look of terror and degradation as he is dragged forward by his merciless conductor, handcuffed to his brother Joe, 'ex-King of the Beggars,' who is branded 'Coward and Thief.' A scorpion, 'Execration,' is fastening on to 'Boney's' person; and another reptile, 'Detestation,' is spitting venom at his less conspicuous relative. The exiled convicts are being conducted past a file of Prussian Guards, and the drums are beating the 'Rogue's March.' Their leader, Blucher, bears a long quarter-master's staff, with a proclamation setting forth: 'Napoleon, late Emperor of the French, King of Italy, Protector of the Confederation of the Rhine; Grand Arbiter of the Fate of Nations, &c., &c., &c., but now, by the permission of the Allied Sovereigns, exile in the Isle of Elba, an outcast from society, a fugitive, a vagabond. Yet this is the conceited mortal who said, "I have never been seduced by prosperity; adversity will not be able to overcome me!"'

A contrast to the crestfallen Bonapartes is offered in the restored Bourbons. A flagpole is set up, and the old royal standards are unfurled: 'Rejoice, O ye Kings! Vive le Roi!' The sovereigns of Europe once more enjoy the opportunity of wearing their crowns in peace; and the allied monarchs are shown, in their royal robes, with all their splendours restored, dancing hand-in-hand in a ring round their combined escutcheons: 'Now we are met, a jolly set, in spite of wind or weather!'

April 17, 1814. The Affectionate Farewell, or Kick for Kick. Published by R. Ackermann.—Buonaparte is being driven from France; it is clear that his presence there, after the settlement of his abdication, was a source of embarrassment while waiting for an opportunity to sail for his new island kingdom. The late Imperial Chancellor is the most eager to be rid of his disgraced master; the 'minister of expediency' is menacing the flying enemy; in one hand he holds the deed of expatriation, 'Abdication, or the last dying speech of a murderer—who is to be delivered into the hands of the Devil the first fair wind.' 'Tally' is attacking his ancient confederate 'Boney' with his club-foot and his crutch simultaneously: 'Va t'en coquin. I'll crack your crown, you pitiful vagabond;' to which the flying exile, with his hat held in hand as a mark of respect to his new master, is responding with humility: 'Votre trÈs humble serviteur, Monsieur Tally.' A gibbet, with its noose ready, is pointing to the 'Isle of Elba.' Seen in the distance is the 'Boney' family, there receiving the elevation which they have merited, all the members being collectively exalted on a gallows. The victims of 'Boney's' successive campaigns and actions without cessation, invalids whose limbs have been lost in his wars, are rushing up as fast as their maimed condition will permit, flourishing their crutches and unstrapping their wooden legs, as offensive weapons wherewith to avenge their injuries, crying: 'Bone him, my tight little Tally;' while an invalid with one arm is waiting for the flying general at the place of embarkation: 'What! let him sneak off without a mark or a scratch? No, no, I'll darken his daylights for him!'

April 20, 1814. A Delicate Finish to a French Usurper. Published by J. Asperne, 60 Cornhill.

The events which followed Leipzig are bearing their fruit; the heads of the Coalition have been called in, and 'Boney' is being subjected to rigorous treatment; he is seated on a throne constructed of skeletons and skulls, wrapped round with the Imperial purple, powdered with his emblems; but the bees are taking flight and forsaking their protÉgÉ; Field Marshal Prince Blucher is offering the sufferer, who is sick in extremity, a huge goblet to be quaffed to the dregs—'Blucher's black draught.' The crown and sceptre of tyranny and all the 'Corsican's' conquests, Portugal, Vienna, Poland, Milan, Spain, Rome, Moscow, Holland, Switzerland, Vienna, Saxony, Florence, Dantzig, &c., have been disgorged. The figure of Father Time has winged his way to reckon with the usurper; his hourglass is held aloft, and with a golden extinguisher Time is about to snuff Boney out. Wellington, the Emperor Alexander of Russia, the Emperor of Austria, and the Crown Prince are in attendance to see the last of their troublesome enemy. France is once more freed, joyful and smiling; the labours of agriculture are resumed, and three symbolical nymphs are executing a joyful dance appropriate for the occasion, and supporting the arms of the restored Bourbons.

April 25, 1814. Nap Dreading his doleful Doom, or his grand entry into the Isle of Elba. Published by T. Tegg (328).—The general has arrived in his island kingdom, according to the satirist; the ship which conveyed the abdicated monarch is riding in the bay; Boney's luggage has just been set on the shore by a smaller craft; a single guard, one of the Mamelukes, is sitting disconsolately by the diminished effects of his master. The somewhat squalid inhabitants, Nap's future subjects, are crowding down the rocks with vulgar curiosity, pressing onwards through a narrow pass leading to the shore; they seem inclined to ridicule the deserted state of their distinguished guest, who is plunged into dejection at his prospects.

A coarse stout female is patting the exile familiarly on the back and offering him her pipe by way of hospitality: 'Come, cheer up, my little Nicky; I'll be your Empress!'

May 1, 1814. The Tyrant of the Continent is Fallen; Europe is Free; England Rejoices. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The 'Corsican' is exposed to a worse fate than fell to Belshazzar; his conquests are taken from him, the throne of state is overset, the Imperial purple is stripped from his shoulders, the diadem and sceptre have fallen; the sovereignties, crowns, and dignities which were his playthings are swept away; the once almost master of the world is now in a desperate strait; his person is seized by the Father of Evil, who is claiming his due; the presence of the Foul Fiend has disturbed Napoleon less than the hand of Fate: 'Empire and victory be all forsaken to plagues, poverty, disgrace, and shame. Strip me of all my dignities and crowns. Take oh take your sceptres back. Spare me but life!' An arm of vengeance, appearing from the clouds, has effectually paralysed the faculties of the conscience-smitten conqueror; a flaming sword is hanging over his devoted head, and a voice of terror is proclaiming retribution:—

May 1, 1814. Boney turned Moralist. Published by R. Ackermann.—1. What I was—a cruel tyrant. The Emperor is shown in all his glory of empire and conquest, his back to the Palace of the Tuileries, and dressed in the robes of state, the purple mantle on his shoulders, the diadem on his head, the orb and sceptre in his hands; his feet raised on crowns of vanquished kings, and potentates enslaved to prop his state.

2. What I am—a snivelling wretch.—The general is seen in solitary abandonment on the island rock which constituted his miniature kingdom of Elba, shedding tears over 'the brief history of my life, which I intend to publish.' This view is, like most of the deductions of satirists, rather beyond the strict veracity of the case. Bonaparte showed himself during his stay in Elba, as it will be remembered, both active and cheerful-minded; and it is recorded that he would discuss with the visitors—who flocked to his miniature kingdom from motives of curiosity—his present condition and his past state with pleasant humour and even jocularity.

3. What I ought to be—hung for a fool.—The figure of Napoleon, with an ass's ears added, is suspended on a gallows.

May 1, 1814. Irish Jaunting Car.—Hull, Esq., del. Etched by T. Rowlandson. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.

May 8, 1814. Peace and Plenty. Published by T. Tegg (324).—The artist's view of the situation, with the smiling prospect of peace as set forth in 1814, was somewhat premature, as the more desperate events of the year following amply confirmed; but, with a general concord prevailing amongst the Allies, with the restless 'disturber of the peace of Europe' safely dismissed to the Island of Elba, there to amuse his giant ambition by administering affairs in his miniature kingdom, the old monarchy being comfortably restored to France for an interval, it was generally concluded that the world would once more be suffered to move along pacifically, and that a new era of plenty and commercial prosperity was reopening.

Peace and Plenty are represented much as such things look on the eve of a congress of military powers, Peace meaning the forces held in readiness, and Plenty, in this case, referring principally to the war-chest, a plentiful supply of artillery, powder, shell and shot, and other offensive materials. The scene is fixed on one of the fortifications which had been set up to protect the security of our coasts; the cliffs of 'old England' bristle with Martello towers and island defences. A drummer is sleeping tranquilly, with his arm and head resting on his instrument, and a pile of cannon balls by his side; there are great guns of brass and iron, with a mortar and shells, ready for use, while sentries are on the look-out, and the soldiers are fully equipped. The British standard is flying, and an air of gallantry is introduced by the presence of certain buxom females, who are exciting the admiration of the soldiers of the garrison gathered around the Dulcineas and ogling and flirting with the skittish fair, whose ample proportions are such as to win the hearts and turn the heads of these 'sons of Mars,' released for a while from 'war's alarms,' of which the warriors were becoming reasonably tired after so many years of hard and comparatively profitless campaigning.

May 15, 1814. Macassar Oil: an oily puff for soft heads.—It is rather a question whether subjects similar to the present, in which some popular nostrum was held up to ridicule, were wholly playful or in part executed to order—a skilful method of indirect puffing much and ingeniously practised in the magazines and other channels of the day. The wondrous fluid Macassar is seen in application. A stout old party has laid off his fool's cap and is seated in an armchair, undergoing a trial of the efficacy of the oil: the perfectly bald head of the subject is a good field for its employment, and the operator—who, by some inconsistency characteristic of vendors of hair restoratives, is quite bereft of hair himself—is sleepily pouring oil from a flask over the broad surface beneath him. A lady has apparently been making a trial of the process, and on consulting the looking-glass she seems amazed to find a bushy head of hair pushing itself straight upwards with amazing vigour. Round the apartment are files of bottles, 'wig oil, one guinea per bottle,' and notices, 'Wonderful discovery: carroty or grey whiskers changed to black, brown, or blue, &c.'

June 14, 1814. Miseries of London, or a Surly Hackney Coachman.

June 20, 1814. Rural Sports, or a Pleasant Way of Making Hay. Published by T. Tegg (16).—In the rear are lasses raking the hay together, and lads are tossing the loads on to the well-filled wains. In the front of the picture is a group of boisterous haymakers of both sexes, who, throwing aside their rakes and forks, are tumbling the hay about by armfuls, rolling one over another in the grass, and sprawling about in picturesque confusion.

July 14, 1814. The Rivals. Published by T. Rowlandson, James Street. (See 1812.)

1814. Portsmouth Point. Published by T. Tegg (255).—The varied humours of Portsmouth are displayed with the caricaturist's native vigour. Nothing could be more animated than the picture, which has an air of truth, nor could the scene be represented with fuller character, all its grotesque features being brought forward with ready fun. The landing-place is bustling with business; small craft of all sorts are pulling off to the ships; luggage, spirit-casks, and packages are being wheeled or shouldered off for debarkation. A couple of sailors, with hands across to form a sedan, are carrying a stout lady of fashion down to a lighter. Jack on shore and Jack taking his chest seawards are elbowing busy stevadores. A commander, his lady, and a porter bearing his sea-trunk, are in the centre of the crowd; a wooden-legged fiddler is tipping a stave for 'Poll and her partner Joe,' and a frolicsome tar is giving a parting salute with more ardour than propriety. On one side is the respectable element—the admirals, captains, and other naval officers, and their families, who are parting from wife and children with a tender embrace at the door of the Ship Tavern; and many a gallant naval hero is draining his last bowl of punch on shore. On the opposite side such rougher contrasts are exhibited as common sailors, lodging houses, outfitting emporiums, cast clothes marts, and ship-store shops, Moses Levy—Money Lent, and similar tempting emporiums, where customers are inspecting second-hand apparel. Such a spectacle would not be complete, according to the taste of the times or the actualities of the case, without some sort of uproariousness, and so we are treated to the sight of a young lady carted off helplessly inebriated, a friendly companion supporting her shoulders, and an honest blue-jacket bearing her legs unceremoniously slung over his back. Another bacchanalian incident is rendered on the left, where a grinning sailor, half-seas over, who is at least better-tempered in his cups than George Cruikshank would have condescended to draw him in his teetotal days, is sprawling on the road by his broken pipe and overbalancing a florid and equally tipsy Venus, his lady-love, who is in some degree the reason of the Jack Tar's degradation.

September 15, 1814. The Three Principal Requisites to form a Man of Fashion: Dress like a coachman; study boxing and bull-baiting; speak the slang language fluently.

September 15, 1814. The Four Seasons of Love. Rowlandson del. Published by T. Tegg.

Spring.—A suitor, Jerry Thimble, Tailor, is kneeling at the feet of a blooming fair one; both of the turtle-doves are in the prime of life. 'Oh, you bewitching angel,' sues the tailor, 'behold at your feet a swain as tender as a veal cutlet. You are the very broadcloth of perfection; have pity on me, adorable Mrs. Griskin!' To which appeal the melting and buxom widow responds: 'You enchanting devil, I do not know what to say to you; however, Mr. Thimble, that mole between your eyebrows puts me so much in mind of my poor dear departed husband that I think I can't refuse you.'

Summer.—The wedded pair are enjoying a suburban excursion. The smartened tailor is smiling on his wife and declaring: 'O thou wert born to please me, my life, my only dear!' The lady, who is advancing in life, replies: 'Ay, now you look a little stylish; you are a charming man. Who would not be married!'

Autumn sets in more stormily; the lady, developing into a virago, is accusing her husband of receiving letters of a tender nature; the tailor, in reply, is making a counter-charge, relative to 'Mr. Dip, the dyer, and gallivanting to White Conduit House.'

Winter sees the late couple seated at either side of a lawyer's table; the man of law is reading the articles of separation, to the delight of the Thimbles. Mrs. Tabitha declares she never felt so comfortable in all her life; and Jerry Thimble is exclaiming: 'O blessed day! I hope to pass the next year in peace and quietness!'

September 20, 1814. Joanna Southcott, the Prophetess, Excommunicating the Bishops. 'Know I told thee I should begin at the Sanctuary. I will cut them all off,' having already cut off four Bishops for refusing to hear of my Visitation. Published by T. Tegg (341).—Rowlandson availed himself of the novel religious fever which had its rise in the fictitious revelations of the so-called Prophetess, Joanna Southcott, to ridicule both the believers in latter day miracles and the members of the Establishment conjointly. One specimen of the caricatures produced on this occasion will suffice. Joanna Southcott and one of her champions are making a terrific charge on the flying pillars of the Episcopacy. The Bishops are endeavouring to kick against the onslaught, and, with mitre, wig, and crozier, are defying their chastisers; but their courage is feeble, their ranks are breaking, and they are running off discomfited to save themselves from the coming wrath, without taking any heed of the overthrown. The Prophetess, wearing her famous seal round her neck, and clad in Elijah's mantle, is lustily wielding a birch rod; she has caught a fugitive Archbishop by the foot, and he is vainly struggling to escape corporal correction. The 'Third Book of Wonders' is open at her feet. Her exertions are supported by a certain Rev. Roger Towzer, who is chastising the disorganised heads of the Established Church with his Flail; certain supernatural creatures, with flaming torches and stings and claws, are harassing the runaways. The Prophetess is very earnest in the work: 'Lay it on, hip and thigh, brave Towzer; smite the unbelievers. I put no more trust in Bishops as men than I do in their chariots and horses, but my trust is in the Lord of Hosts.' Her reverend follower is bruising away vigorously: 'I'll well dust their woolsacks and make them drunk in my fury. I will bring down their strength to the earth!' A strong-chest, in the rear, is labelled Contents of the Sealing; the Sealed, the Elect, to inherit the Tree of Life, &c.

1814 (?). Rural Sports. Buck Hunting. Rowlandson del. Published by T. Tegg.—Buck-hunting, as a figurative sport, seems, if we may believe the print, to be attended with certain difficulties. An antiquated gentleman, who in the present case seems to be the hunter, is brought up abruptly, in full view of the quarry, by a river, which he has no apparent means of crossing. The game in view, a military buck, is 'run to ground' in a summer-house, on the opposite side of the water, where, in spite of a warning-board about Man-traps, he is visibly poaching on the hunter's preserves.