January 1, 1799. Cries of London. No. 1. Buy a Trap, a Rat-Trap, buy my Trap. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The vendor of rat-traps is pausing before a shop decorated with such live stock as a rabbit in a hutch, and a jackdaw in a cage; he is offering his traps to a spectacled old gentleman, who is considering his ware with curiosity. The rats in a trap, carried on the trap-seller's arm, are exciting the interest of a dog.

January 1, 1799. Cries of London. No. 2. Buy my Goose, my Fat Goose. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—A fat countrified-looking dealer is offering some fine fat geese for sale at the door of an apothecary, who, with his wife, is examining the birds with unnecessary closeness.

February 20, 1799. Cries of London. No. 3. Last Dying Speech and Confession. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—A street ballad singer, of the St. Giles' order, is crying the last speech of 'the unfortunate malefactors who were executed this morning:' a common enough announcement when the extreme punishment of hanging visited small offences, and executions were of more frequent occurrence. That the fear of capital punishment did not act as a corrective to theft is illustrated in the background of the print, where a mere infant is drawn in the act of picking the pocket of a passing pedestrian.

February 20, 1799. Cries of London. No. 4. Do you want any brick-dust? Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—From this plate it seems that brick-dust, in the artist's days, was sold like sand. A patient donkey is saddled with an enormous pannier of brick-dust, and the vendor is pouring the contents of a measure into a bowl, held at the door of a highly respectable residence, by a pretty maid, to whose personal captivations the attentions of the brick-dust dealer are most particularly addressed.

March 1, 1799. Cries of London. No. 5. Water-cresses, come buy my Water-cresses. An old shylock-like person is knocking at a door in Portland Street (Mrs. Burke's), and is solicited to buy water-cresses by a neat maiden with a pretty face and a tall shapely form; the old reprobate is leering at the water-cress girl, and is disregarding a further offer of cresses from a more ragged and juvenile seller. A pair of highly-coloured damsels, redundant in charms and florid finery, are peering out of an upper window at the aged visitor.

1799. Cries of London. No. 6. All a-growing, a-growing; here's flowers for your gardens.—A smart young gardener, with a substantial cart, drawn by a donkey, has a handsome selection of various evergreens and flowers for sale; he is standing at the door of a mansion, where a lady and little girl are choosing from his stock of geraniums in pots.

May 4, 1799. Cries of London. No. 8. Hot cross buns, two a penny buns.—A decent woman, wearing a white apron, and with a cloth over her basket, is supplying a patroness with a plateful of hot cross buns. A pretty woman, in a neat morning dress, is buying buns, and her children by her side are tasting the same without any loss of time. Outside a church, in the background, is a stout dignitary, with flowing gown, sleeves, and full wig, who is sweeping away from an appeal for charity addressed to him by a beggar woman and her offspring.

February 1, 1799. A Charm for a Democracy, Reviewed, Analysed, and Destroyed, January 1, 1799, to the confusion of its Affiliated Friends. Published for the Anti-Jacobin Review, by T. Whittle, Peterborough Court, Fleet Street.—The Tory party at the beginning of 1799 (the parliamentary session had opened at the end of November 1788) endeavoured to stifle the Opposition by raising outcries against sedition, and by denouncing publications of a revolutionary tendency, with which they pretended to implicate the Whigs. On the strength of certain alarmist tracts, extraordinary measures were taken to restrain the liberty of the press, and a few months later, in July, the Ministry went so far as to put into effect the extreme measure of subjecting printing presses to a licence. The organs of the Tories, exulting in the discomfiture of their opponents, were continually urging increased and severer political persecutions, while they pretended that the members of the Opposition were, in despair of succeeding in preserving their party by fair means, identifying themselves with the more treasonable writers, and were laying secret trains for the destruction of the Constitution. The King's Bench, Newgate, and Coldbath Fields began to be crowded with political prisoners, the last-mentioned receiving the popular nickname of the Bastille. The Anti-Jacobin Review was, as usual, peculiarly smart at the expense of the malcontents, and Rowlandson's assistance was enlisted to prepare a cartoon which, it was supposed, would expose the Whigs in their true colours, and hold up the abettors of sedition to the execration of all loyal subjects.

There are four elements displayed in this general view of the fancied emergency: the supernatural department, headed by the arch-fiend in person; the Radical pamphleteers and so-called workers of treason; the prominent members of the disconcerted Opposition and their followers; and the King and his ministers displayed, as Olympians, in the clouds. The Infernal Influence is superintending the preparation of the charm, which Horne Tooke and his friends, as the witches in Macbeth, are working at a boiling cauldron; the nature of the component parts of the conjuration are thus set forth:—

One of Horne Tooke's colleagues is working the incantation from a breviary of his own, 'Lying, False Swearing, &c.,' and is flourishing a witch's besom, 'Thrice the Gallic wolves have bayed!' Another of the weird sisterhood is stirring the unholy mixture, crying: 'Thrice! and twice King's Heads have fallen!' Horne Tooke is attending to the fuel department; he is muttering: ''Tis time, 'tis time, 'tis time!' The witches' familiars are whirling above their heads, and in the midst of the flames from the cauldron, in the shape of wild cats, with wings; a flying monkey, with 'Voltaire' on his collar; a tiger with vulture wings, marked Robespierre; and Dr. Price's little dog, which is even more remarkable than the animal associated with the early magicians, are the ministering imps. The fiend, with his pitch-fork, and attended by dragons, serpents, Cerberus, and other terrific monsters of an imaginative construction, suggestive of Callot's grotesques, is directing as head cook the Democratic philter-workers to

The inflammable materials, which are piled up to make the pot boil, and fanned into flames by a diabolical news-boy, from the Courier, consist of such combustibles as O'Connor's Manifesto; Oakley's Pyrology; Belsham's History; Rights of Nature; Quigley's Dying Speech; Freud's Atheism; Whig Club; Universal Equality; Darwin's topsey-turvey Plants and Animals' Destruction; Sedition; French Freedom; Political Liberty; Duty of Insurrection; Equality; Fraud; Sophisms; Blasphemy; Heresy; Deism, together with such fiery sentiments as Kings can do no good; Joel Barlow; Resistance is Prudence; The Vipers of Monarchy and Aristocracy will soon be strangled by the infant Democracy; Kings are Servants, &c.; with the Analytical Review, a rival publication, thrown in as Fallen never to rise again.

The Duke of Bedford is at the head of the Opposition; the members seem to fare badly between the two extremes of Pittites and Radicals, the leader is demanding: 'Where are they! Gone. Pocketed the Church and Poorlands! The Tythes next!' The Duke of Norfolk is deploring the 'Fallen Sovereignty (of the People). Degraded Counsellor!' having been deprived of some of his offices as a punishment for the famous toast. Lord Derby is equally hopeless: 'Poor Joe is done. No Test, no Corporation Acts.' Fox, who had kept his word and absented himself from the debates, is reduced to a tattered state, and enquires: 'Where can I hide my secluded head?' Erskine, in legal trim, as 'Counsellor Ego,' is deploring: 'Ah, woe is me—poor I!' Tierney is regretting his past activity: 'Would I had never spoke of the licentiousness of the press!' Sir Francis Burdett, who had brought an investigation into the abuses practised on the unfortunates in the New State prison, before the House, a motion founded on his own observations, is enquiring: 'What can I report to my friends at the Bastille?' Thelwall, with his lectures under his arm, is 'Off to Monmouthshire;' and the followers of the dispirited 'party' are wandering blindly, lost in the 'Cave of Despair.'

Above the clouds is the King as Jupiter, with his supporters; light is being poured down in streams, upon the machinations of the disaffected patriots, from a symbolical source: Afflavit Deus et Dissipantur. 'Your Destruction cometh as a whirlwind!' 'Vengeance is ripe!' The monarch is strangling a brace of serpents, and asserting, 'Our enemies are confounded!' One minister is offering congratulations on a 'Great Victory!' while Pitt, behind the Crown, is insinuating an expeditious method of disposing of his adversaries: 'Suspend their bodies.' The Lord Chancellor, careful of the forms of law, is suggesting a more formal mode of procedure: 'Take them to the King's Bench and Coldbath Fields!'

February 10, 1799. An Artist Travelling in Wales. Rowlandson delin., Mercke sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The caricaturist—in company with his friend, Henry Wigstead, himself a bit of an artist, further given to sportive flirtation with the Muses—visited North and South Wales in August 1797, for the purpose of carrying out a picturesque tour, to which the two travellers furnished the accompaniments of descriptive sketches and sketchy descriptions. The journey was undertaken solely as a pleasure trip, and not carried out with the intention of 'making a book.' It seems, however, that the interest which partial friends took in the notes of scenery, as found in Rowlandson's sketch-books, and in the minutes of travel, as jotted down in Wigstead's journal, finally prevailed over the travellers' reluctance to make much of a little; and accordingly, some two years later, the Remarks on a Tour to North and South Wales were submitted to the public, in the form of an octavo book, with some additional views by the hands of Pugh, Howitt, &c. (See 1800.)

Rowlandson appears both to have enjoyed this excursion, and to have been able to turn his opportunities to good account. He made several characteristic landscape sketches, and the present writer possesses a few drawings, in various stages of progress, which were evidently commenced on the spot.

A more Rowlandsonian relic of the tour is preserved in the plate, An Artist Travelling in Wales, first published soon after the traveller's return to town. Who the artist so represented may be the writer is not prepared to assert; but, as caricaturists have a well-recognised habit of turning not only the figures of their friends, but their own persons, to satiric usages on occasions, it is suggested that the large and gaunt limner, with his strongly-outlined features, and with his long legs slung across a Welch pony, may offer some points of resemblance to the designer; it is evident that more than once (See The Chamber of Genius, April 2, 1812) Rowlandson has burlesqued his own figure, or made himself the hero of equivocal situations, much as artists who have lived in our times have, now and again, delighted to introduce their own features amidst the fictitious personages they have thought proper or have been called upon to introduce. Notably in the cases of Thackeray and Cruickshank, this whimsical penchant is of such frequent occurrence, that the student, curious in tracing out such eccentricities of genius, will be able to discover at least a dozen characteristic and intentional resemblances of those admirable masters scattered over their illustrations, and relating to various periods of their careers.

It may be that remembrances of his old master at the Academy, Richard Wilson, who held the office of Librarian when the waggish youth, Rowlandson, was a student at the Academy, floated through the artist's mind in the course of his Welsh peregrinations, and tempted him to combine points of personality peculiar to both. It was not the first time Rowley's pencil had taken liberties with the marked traits of 'Red-nosed Dick,' who died, it must be conceded, some fifteen years before the tour in question. At all events, Peter Pindar, the witty and vituperative, was one of Rowlandson's intimates, and his advice to landscape-painters in general and to his friend and chum, Richard Wilson, in particular, whose talents he had the daring to lavishly acknowledge in the face of a generation which treated the artist with cold neglect because, forsooth, his works were 'not fashionable,' should appropriately be engraved below Rowlandson's unflattering presentation:—

A view in Wales is faithfully pictured; the unsophisticated natives are struck with astonishment at the figure of the travelling artist, whose profession they are far from comprehending, and whose paraphernalia excite their wonder. Rain, which is not unknown in the Principality, is wrapping landscape and figures in a moist embrace. The artist's very remarkable umbrella is a poor protection; his hat is limp; for safety his long clay pipe, a luxury difficult to replace, is thrust through a slit in the flap; his lank locks are dripping; the moisture is concentrating, and dropping down his well-defined proboscis. Of course it was necessary, in such an expedition, to bear the baggage and incidental impedimenta. A box contains the artist's larder and wardrobe; his saddle-bags hold the provisions of the hour; beside him swing his tea-kettle and coffee-pot; his goodly sketch-book is slung across his back, much as the observant traveller may have seen canvasses strapped across the shoulders of pedestrian artists during the season, and in the vicinity of Bettews, Conway and the Lluwy in our day. The easel is folded up—and a vastly unwieldy affair it is—on the back of the stumpy pony; brushes, a palette, knife, flasks of oil of goodly proportions, and a palette of extensive dimensions, are attached to the animal's neck; and thus equipped, the man of paint and his rough steed are picking a devious way through the saturating moisture, up and down the steep mountains of the country: a pleasant souvenir of past hardships and discomforts by the way.

February 18, 1799. Nautical Characters.

• 1. Cabin boy.
• 2. Sailor.
• 3. Marine.
• 4. Cook.
• 5. Midshipman.
• 6. Purser.
• 7. Lieutenant.
• 8. Captain.
• 9. Admiral.
• 10. Captain of Marines.

March 1, 1799. An Irish Howl. Published for the Anti-Jacobin Review by T. Whittle, Peterborough Court, Fleet Street.—The month following, the Irish patriots, and rebels alike, were favoured with a view of their position, which was hardly more encouraging than the pictorial prospect held out for the enlightenment of the Democrats at home. A National Convention is supposed to have been assembled; the members are thrown into consternation; and the table, round which they have been deliberating over the concoction of their organ the United Irishmen, is upset. A diabolical visitation is sufficient to account for this confusion. A monstrous representative of the Fiend of Evil, with formidable horns and claws, bearing a pitchfork over his shoulder, and with the French cap of Liberty, labelled Anarchy, on his brow, is intruding on the scene, with a masterpiece of his own preparation, setting forth the tender fate which the Irish patriots were likely to meet at the hands of their allies the Jacobins. Le Tableau Parlant affects to portray an 'Irish Stew, a favourite dish for French Palates.' The sons of Erin are, according to the canvas, thrust into a 'Revolutionary Pot,' which is boiling over a fierce fire; certain Jacobin French cooks, wearing the caps of Liberty, are thrusting their betrayed disciples into the seething cauldron, 'Equality, all to be stewed en masse,' while another apostle of Freedom is clapping on the lid: 'Liberty of being stewed!' The Arch-Deceiver, thrusting out a forked tongue, is imparting his instructions: 'Stew it well; it cannot be overdone for you and me!'

The United Irishmen are variously affected with despair at the probable end of their plottings. One patriot, intended for Grattan, or O'Connor, is exclaiming, 'My merits with the Republic should have saved me; but I find we must all stew together!' A ragged Reformer is thrown on his back; a bundle of pikes are at his feet; a case of Radical Reform. A papist friar is crying: 'By St. Patrick, a complete Catholic emancipation.' Others of the party are crushed. A legal gentleman is moaning in despair: 'So much for Republicanism and glorious independence! No money! No lawyer!' His neighbour cries: 'I now howl in vain; we are all gone to pot!' Another patriot is thinking regretfully of Ireland's proper and natural ally: 'Brother John would not have treated us so! What your own O'Connor, too!' The Map of Ireland is dragged to pieces, and dismantled by flying devils and imps of mischief christened 'Tallien, Barras, Lepaux,' &c. One of the united brethren is turning his eyes on the pitiful end of the Green Isle: 'Poor Erin, how thou'rt torn to pieces by these five harpies!'

1799. An Etching after Raphael Urbinas. An example of Rowlandson's powerful renderings of studies after the old masters, executed in a bold and flowing manner.—The nude figure of a man, who has probably been sleeping at the foot of a tree, has suddenly unfolded his cloak and found himself confronted by a hissing serpent, which has raised itself on its tail in readiness to attack the unprepared victim, whose face is made to wear an expression of statuesque horror. A club is on the ground at the feet of the man.

Apollo, Lyra and Daphne. Frontispiece probably to a book of music.—Apollo, with his crook and shepherd's dog by his side, and with sheep at his feet, is seated at the entrance to a wood. Several musical instruments, bound together with ribands, are hung on the branch of a tree over his head. On the other side of the picture is a nymph in classic guise, evidently captivated with his harmonies; she is resting her hand on the shoulder of a second listening maiden, dressed as a shepherdess.

April 10, 1799. St. Giles's Courtship. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

April 10, 1799. St. James's Courtship. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

1799. View of a Cathedral Town on Market Day (Great Yarmouth), Rowlandson del. and sculp.

May 10, 1799. Borders for Rooms and Screens. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. Woodward delin. Etched by Rowlandson. In twenty-four sheets. Republished May 20 and August 1.

June 20, 1799. Connoisseurs. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.—The interior of a cabinet of choice works of art. On an easel is displayed a florid and somewhat suggestive picture of Venus and Cupid richly framed. An old connoisseur, with a glass to his eye, and his three-cornered hat under his arm, is seated in an easy elbow chair, critically examining the work in question. Three other distinguished dilettanti are peering over his back, and stretching their noses as near as contrivable to the object of their gloating admiration. All these amateurs have evidently called in to view the collection, which includes an example after 'Susanna and the Elders,' and kindred subjects.

August 1, 1799. Horse Accomplishments. Sketch 1. A Paviour. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

August 1, 1799. Horse Accomplishments. Sketch 2. An Astronomer. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

August 1, 1799. Horse Accomplishments. Sketch 3. A Civilian. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

August 1, 1799. Horse Accomplishments. Sketch 4. A Devotee. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.—The rider is somewhat inconvenienced by the eccentricities of his steed. The horse is travelling in a somnolent condition, of which the equestrian seems unconscious, as he is thus soliloquising over the unusual proclivities of his Rosinante:—'This is certainly a very devout animal; always on his knees; five times in a mile; constantly worshipping something or other. What is he at now?'

August 1, 1799. Waddling Out. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.

August 10, 1799. Comforts of the City: A Good Speculation. No. 5. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, August 10, 1799.—A stout citizen is rejoicing over a fortunate investment.

August 10, 1799. Comforts of the City: A Bad Speculation. No. 6. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann, August 10, 1799.—In this case the dabbler in novel ventures is looking very blank and disconcerted, on the receipt of the information that his very latest and most ingenious 'spec' does not promise to turn out favourably, according to a communication he holds in his hand:—'I am sorry to inform you that your scheme for manuring London with old wigs will not do.'

August 12, 1799. Procession of a Country Corporation. H. Bunbury del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published August 12, 1799, by T. Rowlandson, James's Street, Adelphi.—Bunbury's pencil was never more happily employed than when engaged in perpetuating the comicalities which he noticed in the country; rustic simplicity, the pretensions of inflated noodles, bumptious nobodies, and kindred absurdities, such as are displayed in 'The procession of a Country Corporation,' wherein the Aldermen and Mace-bearers, his worship the Mayor, with his chain, and his dignified deportment, and his following of puffed-up provincial big-wigs are shown filing in solemn state past the pump, the Town-hall, and the stocks, to the Church vestry; the country clodhoppers and honest children of the soil are gazing open-mouthed, over-awed by the impressive nature of the ceremony, and the solemn airs of the performers. Bathos is arrived at in a notice on the wall, past which these 'hogs in harness' are strutting—'Ordered by the Mayor and Corporation that no pigs be suffered to walk the streets. For every offence the penalty of five shillings!'

August 1799. A Game of Put in a Country Ale House. G. M. Woodward invt. Etched by T. Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann.

1799. Bay of Biscay. (See 1789.)

September 3, 1799. Forget and Forgive, or Honest Jack shaking hands with an old acquaintance. Published September 3, 1799, by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The troops forming the British Expedition which restored the Prince of Orange to his states are represented landing in the Texel, and delivering the Dutch from the hands of their friends the Sansculottes. Mynheer has become wretched and ragged under the French rÉgime; he is shaking a British tar by the hand, heartily delighted to see a chance of recovering his freedom:—'Ah, Mynheer Bull, these cursed French rats have gnawed us to the backbone; they have barely left us a pipe, a drop of Hollands, or a red herring; oh, what a pretty pickle have we brought ourselves into!' 'Well, Mynheer,' responds Jack Tar, 'you seem heartily sick of fraternity: had you stuck to your old friends instead of embracing your ragged relations, you might have kept your gilders, saved your breeches, and preserved both states and stadtholder.' A Dutch vrow is trampling her foot upon an order of the French Convention:—'If any Dutch woman be detected in concealing any part of her husband's private property, she shall be guillotined.' She has secured a trifling comfort, a bottle of 'Hollands gin.' 'I have had great trouble, Mynheer, to smuggle this bottle for you, those French ragamuffins search me so close!' The troops forming the English contingent are landing from their ships, and driving the French legions before them at the point of the bayonet; the apostles of Liberty are losing their requisitions, 'Ducats and gilders for the use of the municipality;' they despair of converting their invaders: 'Here be dese English Bull dog, dey be such stupid brute dat we cannot make them comprehend the joys of Fraternisation!'

September 20, 1799. The Irish Baronet and his Nurse. ('Changed at his Birth.') Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson.

October 1, 1799. The Gull and the Rook. Published by Hixon, 155 Strand.

October 1, 1799. The Crow and the Pigeon. Published by Hixon, 155 Strand.

October, 1799. Twopenny Whist. Designed by G. M. Woodward. Etched by T. Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.

October 28, 1799. A Note of Hand. Designed by G. M. Woodward. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann.—From Bunbury to Woodward the change is easy. In all these renderings of the designs of less skilful amateurs it must be remembered that Rowlandson's part was not limited to that of a mere copyist of their ideas; he had to put crude conceptions into a presentable shape, and in most instances he has added points which originated in his own invention, and, as far as execution is concerned, he has made the works mainly his own.

In the present caricature there is actually no indication of Woodward's handiwork; a smart sailor of the period, returning to shore with prize money galore, and a watch, chain, and seals in either fob, neat silver shoe-buckles, and a spic-span rig-out, is calling to cash a twenty-pound note on a banker, who is negligently looking at the ceiling. The honest tar, who probably thinks the amount of the draft he has to draw a veritable fortune, is evincing his consideration for the man of finance—'I say, my tight little fellow, I've brought you a Tickler! A draught for twenty pounds, that's all! But don't be downhearted, you shan't stop on my account! I'll give you two days to consider of it.'

1799 (?). Legerdemain.—The subject owes its invention to the observant humour of Henry Bunbury, the caricaturist of gentle birth, who was ever a friendly ally of Rowlandson; while the latter has lent his more trained skill to work out the conceptions of the flattered amateur, further regarded, according to the views of his contemporaries, as his distinguished patron. We are introduced in 'Legerdemain,' to the consulting room and operating surgery of certain rustic practitioners, who combine the twin professions of dentists and pedicures; teeth and corns being extracted promiscuously, as the requirements of their patients might necessitate. Strength, rather than skill, is the chief requisition, if we may trust the whimsicalities of 'Legerdemain,' where main force directs the operations of the performers. One sturdy tooth drawer is bringing his knee and all the brute power at his command to bear in the way of leverage on the refractory grinder of an unfortunate and distracted client; a hammer and a pair of coarse pincers do not argue well for the painless dentistry of the establishment. A squire, judging from the liveried servant in attendance, is submitting his foot to another professor, for the removal of an obstinate corn; the victim is thrown into paroxysms of agony by the forcible mode of procedure adopted: the rude chiropedist has seized the sufferer's foot securely under his arm, and is dragging away with such vigour that, if the corn will not be persuaded to come off decently, the toe will be dragged out by the roots—the latter a most undeniable method of permanent cure so far as corns are concerned.

November 1, 1799. March to the Camp. Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street, Adelphi.

November 1, 1799. Good Night. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—A gentleman in the last stage of sleepiness with his nightcap on his head, and his chamber-candlestick flaring away—he is yawning like a cavern, and stretching his arms as if heavy with slumber. The expression is realistically conveyed.

November 5, 1799. A Bankrupt Cart, or the Road to Ruin in the East. Woodward del. Etched by Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The fortunate possessor of that dubious vehicle, 'a Bankrupt cart,' is proceeding in state past his own premises with his chin in the air; the showy wife of his bosom in feathers and finery is riding by his side, and their children are packed in sandwich fashion. A follower, who is probably a drayman, put into livery for the occasion, and mounted on one of the horses used in the business, is grinning at the high and mighty dignity assumed by his employers. A news boy is blowing his horn in the averted faces of the party, offering the London Gazette, which contains the objectionable black list of bankruptcies, wherein, it is hinted, the name of 'Mash, Brewer,' figures conspicuously. Puddle Dock is the scene of this exposure, and the brewery is posted with advertisements, which indicate the sudden downfall of fashionable ambition: 'A house to be let in Grosvenor Square, suitable for a genteel family,' and 'Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, The Comedy of the Bankrupt, with High Life Below Stairs.'

November 5, 1799. A Dasher, or the Road to Ruin in the West. G. M. Woodward del. Etched by T. Rowlandson. Published by R. Ackermann.

1799 (?). Loose Thoughts.—A reclining female figure, lightly attired, and gracefully posed, buried in romantic creations of the imagination.

The Bookbinder's Wife.—Somewhat similar to the taste of the preceding. The nude figure of a lady toying with her infant: these subjects, which are avowedly of a slightly suggestive character, are handled with a grace and refinement which goes a long way to redeem the free nature of the subjects.

1799 (?). The Nursery.—A domestic subject; a gracefully posed female figure and two infants.

1799 (?). A Freshwater Salute.—The occupants of two waterside crafts are exchanging courtesies on the river, a more frequent occurrence at the beginning of the century, when figures of speech, especially among 'waterside loafers,' were more forcible than refined. The boatmen in the respective wherries are bawling at one another, and a stout damsel is extending, in expressive pantomime, an invitation which has shocked the proprieties of the occupants of the other craft, a lady of ton in a gay hat and feathers, and a very prim old gentleman, who is looking perfectly rigid with horror and indignation.

1799 (?). Ride to Rumford.—'Let the gall'd jade wince.' A stout equestrienne has put up her steed at the shop of an apothecary, who combines the profession of veterinary surgeon: the venerable practitioner, with spectacles on nose, is preparing a diaculum plaister for the scarified horsewoman.

1799 (?). City Fowlers—mark. H. Bunbury del., Rowlandson sculp.

1799 (?). The City Hunt. H. Bunbury del., Rowlandson sculp.—This scene of cockney horsemanship is suggestive of the learned lectures of Geoffrey Gambado, Esq., Riding Master to that authority on equestrianism, the Doge of Venice. It is a question which are the more extraordinary animals, the mounted citizens or their horses; all is grotesque and burlesque. Of course fat men are shown tumbling off and over their steeds; and with equal propriety, a brook is introduced, in which to deposit the unfortunate leapers. Various curs have come out to share the run, and among the most spirited riders may be distinguished a brace of black chimney-sweeps, fraternally perched astride the single donkey possessed by the firm.

1799 (?). Une Bonne Bouche.—A stout gourmand impaling an entire sucking-pig on a fork.

1799 (?). Cits airing themselves on Sunday. H. Bunbury del., Rowlandson sculp.—A lady and gentleman are enjoying an equestrian promenade, too busily engaged in flirting to notice that their horses are riding over some wandering pigs. A Jew is in a chaise, taking his pleasure in the air; the fair Jewess, his wife, is driving, the rest of their family are by their side. A stout elderly volunteer in his uniform is out for exercise and relaxation, mounted on a heavy horse from the cart, ridden with blinkers.

1799 (?). A Militia Meeting.—The original suggestion for this subject, which bears Rowlandson's name, is, with several other small etchings, belonging to the same series, due to Henry Bunbury; it represents a 'justice's parlour,' filled with local magnates, who are seated in council on the momentous militia question. The characteristics of the various personages are individualised with the sense of humour and that power of hitting off quaint expressions with which both Bunbury and Rowlandson were gifted in the highest degree.

1799 (?). A Grinning Match.—The companion print to A Militia Meeting, executed under the same auspices. A party of rustics, whose rude features are more rudely burlesqued, are grouped around a barrel to assist at a competitive exhibition of 'face-making.' The challenge runs thus: 'A gold ring to be grinned for; the frightfullest grinner to be the winner.' Mounted on a tub is one of the champions, round his head is the traditional setting of a horse collar, and he is succeeding in making the most fearful grimaces, to the consequent delight of the spectators.

1799 (?). Distress, (18 inches by 12⁵/₈,) from an Original Drawing by Thomas Rowlandson.—Published by Thomas Palser, Surrey side, Westminster Bridge.—That Rowlandson possessed a remarkable power of grasping the humorous side of life was generally acknowledged in his own day, and is now well established, time having confirmed the justness of his title to a lasting reputation; indeed, his works in this order have long received a recognition which is more assured than has been accorded to those of his contemporaries. It may, however, be pointed out, with equal sincerity, that his conception of the terrible is even more remarkable than his facility for expressing the whimsical frivolities of society. It would be difficult to find a more realistic representation of the horrors of shipwreck than the appalling scene pictured under the title of 'Distress.' The fearful sufferings of the survivors, exposed without sustenance to the dangers of the deep, and the hopelessness of any chance of rescue, are all simply set forth with intense feeling, and a faithful perception of the horrors of the situation which is harrowing to examine, although it is evident that the terrors of the subject must have exercised a certain fascination over the mind of the delineator. It seems clear that portions of a crew have escaped the loss of their vessel only to become the powerless victims of more insupportable sufferings. A solitary officer and several of the crew are crowded into a boat, which they have no means of properly navigating. Provisions and water are evidently wanting; the horizon is a blank, the sea is still running high, and the sky threatens further tempests. Hunger, thirst, and exposure, are reducing the ocean waifs to madmen; while some are in paroxysms, others are stiffening corpses, and the body of one sufferer is about to be cast into the waters to lighten the freight; some are sunk in blank indifference or imbecile despair; others are furious, one or two are looking for help from above, and a few, among them the young officer and the boatswain, are doing their best to steer the open and over-laden boat towards a likely course. The cabin boy's distress is rendered with peculiar pathos.

1799. Hungarian and Highland Broadsword Exercise. Twenty-four plates, designed and etched by Thomas Rowlandson, under the direction of Messrs. H. Angelo and Son, Fencing-masters to the Light Horse Volunteers of London and Westminster. Dedicated to Colonel Herries. Oblong folio. London. Published, as the Act directs, February 12, 1799, by H. Angelo, Curzon Street, Mayfair.—Engraved Title and Frontispiece. A tablet topped by the figure of Fame and supported by a relievo representing Guards on the march; below it a trophy, and the escutcheon of the corps. On either side an archway or portico, with relievo tablets above, representing military scenes. On guard and saluting, on the left, is a Light Horse Volunteer of London and Westminster; on the right is one of the same corps dismounted, presenting arms. The etchings are dated September 1, 1798. The subjects are executed with considerable dash and spirit. The major part of the plates represent movements of cavalry, depicted with knowledge and power; instead of being, as the titles of the illustrations would indicate, mere definitions of the positions assumed in the exercises, the artist has, with superior ingenuity and ability, managed to produce a lively series of military tableaux filled with appropriate actions, in which bodies of troops, reviews, incidents of war, engagements of large parties, assaults, repulses, and other military demonstrations, make up the backgrounds, and convert a set of plates of mere broadsword exercises into an animated and interesting collection of warlike pictures. Judging from the lengthy subscription list appended to the folio, these plates must have enjoyed a wide popularity, secured under the auspices of the Angelos, whose acquaintances amongst the fashionable world enabled them to obtain a satisfactory array of patrons and subscribers.

The subjects are as follows:—

• Prepare to guard.
• Guard.
• Horse's head, near side, protect.
• Offside protect, new guard.
• Left protect.
• Right protect.
• Bridle arm protect.
• Sword arm protect.
• St. George's guard.
• Thigh protect, new guard.
• Give point, and left parry.
• Cut one, and bridle arm protect.
• Cut two, and right protect.
• Cut one, and horse's head, near side, protect.
• Cut six, and sword arm protect.
• Cut two, and horse's off side protect, new guard.
• Cut one, and thigh protect, new guard.
• On the right to the front, parry against infantry.

Infantry.

• Outside guard; St. George's guard. Inside guard.
• Outside half hanger. Hanging guard. Inside half hanger.
• Half-circle guard. Medium guard.
• The consequence of not shifting the leg.
• The advantage of shifting the leg.

1799. Loyal Volunteers of London and Environs.—Infantry and cavalry in their respective uniforms. Representing the whole of the Manual, Platoon, and Funeral exercises in eighty-seven plates. Designed and etched by Thomas Rowlandson. Dedicated by permission to His Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester. Engraved title-page; inscription in a lozenge; head of Mars above; Mercury's caduceus and branches of laurel; Cupid-warrior, and Cupid-justice with scales and sword, supported by a trophy of arms, accoutrements, &c. Dedicatory title.—This illuminated School of Mars, or review of the Light Volunteer corps of London and its vicinity, is dedicated by permission to His Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester by his most obliged and very humble servant, R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. August 12, 1799.

List of Subjects.

• Cavalry.
• 1. London and Westminster Light Horse Volunteers.
• 2. Surrey Yeomanry.
• 3. Deptford Cavalry.
• 4. Westminster Cavalry.
• 5. Middlesex Cavalry.
• 6. Southwark Cavalry.
• 7. Clerkenwell Cavalry.
• 8. Lambeth Loyal Cavalry.
• 9. Loyal Islington Volunteer Cavalry.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

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

[1] The preparation of The Works of James Gillray, the Caricaturist, with a Story of his Life and Times (376 pp. quarto), was in itself no bagatelle; and three working years of steady application were invested in its pages and illustrations.