sculp. 'Queer dreams, owing to Sir Richard's claret, always drink
too much of it--rose at one--dressed by half-past three--took an
hour's ride--a good horse, my last purchase, remember to sell him
again--nothing like variety--dined at six with Sir Richard--said
several good things--forgot 'em all--in high spirits--quizzed a
parson--drank three bottles and loung'd to the theatre--not quite
clear about the play--comedy or tragedy--forget which--saw the last
act--Kemble toll-loll--not quite certain whether it was Kemble or
not--Mrs. Siddons monstrous fine--got into a hack--set down in St.
James's Street--dipp'd a little with the boys at hazard--confounded bad
luck--lost all my money.'
_May 1, 1802._ _A Woman of Fashion's Journal._--Woodward del.,
Rowlandson sculp. 'Dreamt of the Captain--certainly a fine
man--counted my card money--lost considerably--never play again
with the Dowager--breakfasted at _two_ ... dined at seven at Lady
Rackett's--the Captain there--more than usually agreeable--went to
the Opera--the Captain in the party--house prodigiously crowded--my
_ci-devant_ husband in the opposite box--rather _mal à propos_--but
no matter--_telles choses sont_--looked into Lady Squander's
_roût_--positively a mob--sat down to cards--in great luck--won a cool
hundred of my Lord Lackwit, and fifty of the Baron--returned home at
five in the morning--indulged in half-an-hour's reflection--resolved on
reformation, and erased my name from the Pic-Nic Society.'
_May 20, 1802._ _The Sailor's Journal._--Two members of the fleet, in
the famous days of prize-money, are seated at table with a punch-bowl
between them. One of them is smoking old Virginia, while his friend
is favouring him with certain extracts from his diary, of which
the following must serve as a sample: 'Entered the port of London.
Steered to Nan's lodgings and unshipped my cargo; Nan admired the
shiners--so did the landlord--gave 'em a handful a-piece--emptied a
bottle of the right sort with the landlord to the health of his honour
Lord Nelson--All three set sail for the play--got a berth in a cabin
on the larboard side--wanted to smoke a pipe, but the boatswain
wouldn't let me--remember to rig out Nan like the fine folks in the
cabins right a-head. Saw Tom Junk aloft in the corner of the upper
deck--hailed him--the signal returned. Some of the land-lubbers in the
cockpit began to laugh--tipped 'em a little foremast lingo till they
sheered off--emptied the grog bottle--fell fast asleep--dreamt of the
battle off Camperdown--my landlord told me the play was over--glad
of it--crowded sail for a hackney coach--got on board--squally
weather--rather inclined to be sea-sick--gave the pilot a two-pound
note, and told him not to mind the change. In the morning looked over
my rhino--a great deal of it, to be sure--but I hope, with the help of
a few friends, to spend every shilling in a little time, to the honour
and glory of old England.'
_May 28, 1802._ _Special Pleaders in the Court of Requests, a
Litigation between Snip, a tailor, and Galen Glauber, a quack._
Published by T. Williamson, 20 Strand.--A justice, with his
legal library at hand (_Game Laws_, _Penal Laws_, _Vagrant Act_,
_Blackstone_, &c.) for ready reference, is sitting to investigate a
delicate case. A working tailor, who is snapping his shears at his
adversary, in the excitement of the cause, and dressed as he has left
his shop-board, is the plaintiff; the defendant has brought a pair of
nether garments into court as evidence; he is resolutely endeavouring
to support his case, while the small clothes in question are held out
at the end of his cane for the investigation of the obviously reluctant
judge, who does not appear to relish the too familiar vicinity of such
unusual testimony.
_June 15, 1802._ _A Parish Officer's Journal._ Woodward del.,
Rowlandson sculp. Published by R. Ackermann.--'Rose early and reflected
on the dignity of my office--put on my wig to create awe and reverence
in my family. Betty, my wife's new maid, not sufficiently struck by my
appearance--a great deal too free--remember to give her warning--dined
with the gentlemen at the _Cat and Bagpipes_--returned home soon in
order to prepare for the evening's entertainment--had half-an-hour's
bickering with my wife to keep up my consequence--and set out to meet
my parish friends at the _George_, where we made a most excellent
supper, on the profits of a _child_, and adjusted several weighty
parochial concerns while partaking of the good things the landlord
prepared for us--which consisted of rumps of beef, legs of mutton, suet
puddings, fat geese, onions, and other light delicate articles--spent
the evening very convivially, and made up another party for the day
ensuing.'
_June 10, 1802._ _How to Pluck a Goose._ Etched by T. Rowlandson.
Published by T. Williamson, 20 Strand.
_June 25, 1802._ _La Fille mal gardé, or Jack in the Box._ Published
by T. Williamson, 20 Strand.--An old miser, with a portentous bunch
of keys, has, in imagination only, secured his treasure, and he is
further prepared to insure the safety of a fair charge by the same
precaution of locking her in a well-defended chamber; the windows are
heavily cross-barred, a blunderbuss and a rattle hang ready to hand, as
precautions against intruders; but no danger threatens from without,
the risk is nearer within; the miser's strong box has evidently changed
its contents, since the rising lid discloses a smart young officer, who
only requires the door to be fastened before he appears on the scene.
The intriguing damsel, with averted head and her finger on her lips, is
inculcating caution to the impatient captive.
_July 1, 1802._ _Comfort in the Gout._ (See 1785.) Republished by S. W.
Fores, 50 Piccadilly.
[Illustration: A LADY IN LIMBO, OR JEW BAIL REJECTED.]
_July 1, 1802._ _A Lady in Limbo, or Jew Bail Rejected._ Published by
S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.--A 'fine lady,' presumably an _Anonyma_
of the period, finds herself in the fastness of a spunging house;
she is made as welcome as circumstances will permit; a bottle of
wine, the refreshment customary, is ordered, and the stern hearts of
the sheriff's men are appealed to, while bail is sent for. It was a
well-known practice at the beginning of the century, and earlier,
to pay some obscure individual a trifling fee to become security on
emergencies. Similar fictitious householders were always in attendance,
and producible from the bar-rooms in the neighbourhood. In the present
case a professional limb, of the Hebrew persuasion, is presented,
decently made up for the occasion, to tender himself as bondsman for
the lady's due appearance. It is evident, however, that a suspicious
recognition is taking place; 'Harry Holdfast, Officer to the Four
Counties,' or his deputy, does not, judging from his expression, seem
to approve of the surety, and the Jew looks somewhat disconcerted
under his inspection. The tears of the unfortunate captive, and
the plausible reassurances--as to the respectability of the bail
offered--of her chaperone, or duenna, are powerless to move the stoic
breast of the experienced catchpole.
[Illustration: SLYBOOTS.]
_July 1, 1802._ _Slyboots._ Published by S. W. Fores.--Slyboots and
her cat are snuggled up by the fire, full of fun and friskiness; it is
difficult to determine which looks the more mischievous of the pair.
The exhortations of the preacher against the vanities of life, seem a
trifle out of place here, or, at all events, his denunciations are not
likely to produce any lasting impressions on such mercurial souls.
_July 1, 1802._ _Intrusion on Study, or the Painter Disturbed._ (See
November 1785.) Republished by S. W. Fores.
_July 1, 1802._ _Jockeyship._ Published by S. W. Fores.
_July 1, 1802._ _A Snip in a Rage._ Published by Howitt, Panton Street,
Haymarket.--An infuriated tailor has intruded his head and shoulders
through the window of a frail fair's bedchamber, which he has reached
by means of a ladder resting against the sill. The tailor, with his
measure round his neck, is snipping his shears viciously above the head
of a blushing maiden, who is covered with becoming confusion at her
detection. The figure of a sturdy apprentice, seen disappearing in the
rear, is sufficient to account for the _contre-temps_.
_July 18, 1802._ _The Corporal in Good Quarters._ Published by S.
Howitt, Panton Street, Haymarket.--The marvellous influence of a red
coat is the subject of the present sketch. Who can resist a dashing
young soldier? The rustic beauty seems unequivocally smitten, and does
not disguise the compromising fact that 'she dotes on the military.'
The gallant son of Mars has been quartered on a prosperous farmer, who
loves good cheer and brave company; the corporal is made welcome at bed
and board, and the best in the house is prepared for his delectation.
The venerable Hawbuck does not, however, seem pleased with the way his
guest is carrying on with his buxom daughter, who is but too clearly
smitten with the soldier's charming freedoms and his fine feathers;
it is more than the parent bargained for, and even his dog is looking
on with astonishment. But the scandalised parent and the young rustic
lounging in the doorway, possibly an acknowledged sweetheart, are at
a discount; their authority is likely to be set at defiance. As for
the disconcerted swain whose dejected air and attitude express the
profundity of his despair, he will probably do something desperate;
in dudgeon at his blighted hopes he may very likely fall under the
beguiling corporal's spell, offer himself as a recruit, be 'listed,
and thenceforth forsake the plough-tail to follow the drum; a lasting
text against one of the many evils consequent upon the maintenance of a
standing army.
[Illustration: THE CORPORAL IN GOOD QUARTERS.]
_August 30, 1802._ _A Musical Family._ Published by R. Ackermann.
_September 12, 1802._ _Sorrow's Dry, or a Cure for the Heart-ache._
Designed and published by Thomas Rowlandson. Republished 1811.
Were I not resolv'd against the yoke
Of hapless marriage, never to be curst
With second Love, so fatal was the first,
To this one error I might yield again.--DRYDEN.
'Deborah Crossstich departed this life September 5, 1802, aged 62.'
The body of the departed wife is laid out in her coffin, propped on
trestles; on the plate let into the lid is engraved the above affecting
inscription.
The lamenting spouse is far gone in a mixed state of grief,
intoxication, and maudlin affection; he is making laudable efforts to
resign himself to his recent bereavement, and is endeavouring to allay
his sorrow, between the combined consolations of drink and the tender
solicitudes of a favourite maid, who is exerting herself to administer
comfort to her afflicted master, with her arm round his neck. The
personal belongings of the deceased--her watch, little articles
of jewellery, and plate--have evidently been ransacked by this
affectionate pair of unaffected and disinterested mourners. An open
book displays this familiar quotation, bearing somewhat disrespectful
application to the case of the departed:--
A smoky house and a scolding wife
Are the plagues of man's life.
Oh, what pleasure will abound
When my wife is laid in ground!
_November 20, 1802._ _Doctor Convex and Lady Concave._ Published by R.
Ackermann.
1802. _Hunt the Slipper, Pic-Nic Revels._ Rowlandson del. and publisher.
Men are but children of a larger growth.--SHAKESPEARE.
The chairs have been cleared out of a large apartment, and a party of
full-grown men and women, some of whom have long passed maturity, are
seated on the floor for a game at 'high jinks.' Bowls of punch, bottles
of wine, and abundant refreshments of a strong nature, are put on the
ground behind, within easy reach of the revellers, who are in the full
enjoyment of a boisterous game of 'hunt the slipper.' The party is made
up of an abundance of pretty rosy damsels, blooming, blushing, and
smiling, such as Rowlandson with his etching needle or his reed pen
could produce at will, and in every degree of perfection; corpulent
matrons, dowagers, and gothic old maids are likewise plentiful. There
is a gentleman to every lady, and the whole scene is a very animated
one; while the fun is apparently appreciated by the performers, who are
entering into the spirit of the diversion. The rules of the Society are
framed on the wall:--
Ici on boit, on danse, on rit!
Et quelquefois on joue aussi.
Two pictures, hung over the doors, are supposed to be indicative of
the subject. _Vive la Bagatelle!_ a party in pursuit of a balloon; and
_Sans Souci, sans six sous_, a bacchanalian revel.
1802. _Salt Water._ Published at 24 Lower Sackville Street.--A bathing
scene.
_July 1, 1802._ _Who's Mistress now?_ Published by S. Howitt, Panton
Street, Haymarket.--The scene is a kitchen; a servant is disporting
herself before a large glass, in borrowed plumage, in the hat,
feathers, and train of her mistress, and flourishing a fan; meanwhile
a group of amused spectators are peeping in at the pantry door; while
the cat, more practically inclined, has knocked over a dish, and is
availing herself of the opportunity of making off with a fine fish
prepared for dinner.
1802. _Compendious Treatise on Modern Education._ By J. B. Willyams,
from Notes by the late Joel M'Cringer, D.D., 8 plates by T. Rowlandson,
oblong 4to.
1802. _Bardic Museum of Primitive British Literature, and other
admirable rarities._ Edward Jones, bard to the Prince of Wales.
Coloured frontispiece by T. Rowlandson.
1803.
_February 1, 1803._ _Signiora Squallina._
_February 1, 1803._ _Sweet Lullaby._
_February 1, 1803._ _Queer Fish._
_February 1, 1803._ _Recruits._ (See 1811.)
_March 1, 1803._ _A Catamaran, or an Old Maid's Nursery._ Published by
T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street.
_March 1, 1803._ _Richmond Hill_, after H. Bunbury. Published by R.
Ackermann.
_March 1, 1803._ _Billiards_, after H. Bunbury. Published by R.
Ackermann.
_April 1, 1803._ _The Road to Ruin._ Published by S. W. Fores.
_April 6, 1803._ _A Diver._ T. Rowlandson invt., 1803. Published
by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The figure introduced under this
title is perhaps as droll as any which Rowlandson has drawn. The
scene represents the interior of _a Bagnio_, '_Hot and Cold Baths_,
_cupping_, _sweating_, &c., &c.' From the picture it would seem
that the bath-attendants of the period, who administered the rough
towellings and flesh brushings, which are indicated in the plate,
were not of the sex one generally expects to find discharging these
functions in our own day. In the case of _The Diver_ no very glaring
impropriety is suggested--the individual in question is like a ball of
flesh; the image, on an exaggerated scale, of the Chinese joss-figures,
and literally perfectly spherical; his quaint image is reflected in the
water as he plunges forward in a sort of cricket-ball bound; a print of
Narcissus gazing on his form in the fountain, suspended on the wall,
suggests a sufficiently striking contrast.
_April 12, 1803._ _Ducking a Scold._
_May 1, 1803._ _John Bull Listening to the Quarrels of State Affairs._
(Treaty of Amiens.) Published by R. Ackermann.--John Bull, with his
hair standing on end, is listening, stooping, with his hands on his
knees--'I declare my very wig stands on end with curiosity. What can
they be quarrelling about? Oh that I could be let into the secret! If
I ax our gentleman concerning it, 'tis ten to one if he tells me the
right story. Buonaparte, with his cocked hat on, and his great sword by
his side, is insisting on his arguments, 'And so--if you do so--I do
so!' 'Jurisprudist,' a gentleman of the black robe (possibly meant for
the Chancellor), appears very uncomfortable at the Corsican's decided
attitude; he is crying in consternation, 'Oh!'
_June 21, 1803._ _A Snug Cabin, or Port Admiral._ (See June 21, 1808.)
_July 1, 1803._ _A Stage Coach._
_July 10, 1803._ _Flags of Truth and Lies._ Published by R.
Ackermann.--John Bull, as an honest Jack Tar, is holding out the Union
Jack, and pointing to his inscription in reply to the message of
intimidation set forth on the tricolour, held out by a huge-booted,
long-queued Frenchman, a composite being between a soldier and
postilion:--'Citizen First Consul Buonaparte presents compliments and
thanks to the Ladies and Gentlemen of Great Britain, who have honoured
him with their visits at Paris, and intends himself the pleasure of
returning it in person as soon as his arrangements for that purpose can
be completed.' 'Mon grand Maître, bid a you read dat, Monsieur.' John
Bull replies: 'Um, let your Grand Master read that, Mounseer':--'John
Bull does not rightly understand the Chief Consul's lingo, but supposes
he means something about invasion; therefore the said John Bull deems
it necessary to observe that if his consular Highness dares attempt
to invade any ladies or gentlemen on his coast, he'll be damned if he
don't sink him!'
1804.
_January 1, 1804._ _Diana in the Straw, or a Treat for Quornites._
Published by S. W. Fores.
_January 2, 1804._ _A French Ordinary._ (Originally published in
1801.) S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.--The attractions of a cheap French
table d'hôte are ludicrously set forth; while the ravenous diners are
represented making the best use of their opportunities within the
_salle à manger_, the delicate character of the attendance and the
culinary department are slyly hinted. We are admitted to the secrets
of _la cuisine Française_, as they have seemingly been revealed to
the caricaturist. The slovenly old cook is emptying the morsels left
from the plates of the customers, into the capacious _pot-au-feu_, to
reappear dished up for succeeding _convives_. A lean cat is seated in
the frying pan, probably in course of fattening for the spit; as to the
larder, the main provisions consist of dead cats and frogs; it was an
accepted axiom that all the _Jean Crapauds_, as our Gallic neighbours
were playfully christened by John Bull, lived more or less on frogs.
Rowlandson, as we have shown, had French relatives, and had studied
in Paris and spoke the language with fluency; while those travellers
who were familiar with native habits, from travelling abroad, stoutly
maintained that such were the staples of the national food, being
convinced of the truth of the formula, as asserted by the waggish Peter
Pindar--'I've liv'd among them and have eat their frogs!'
[Illustration: A FRENCH ORDINARY.]
_June 8, 1804._ _Light Volunteers on a March._ Published by R.
Ackermann.
_June 8, 1804._ _Light Infantry Volunteers on a March._ Published by
Ackermann.
_July 31, 1804._ _The Imperial Coronation._ Published by R.
Ackermann.--The platform which has been erected for this celebration is
more suggestive of an execution than a coronation; a body of the old
Guards, in their bear-skin caps, surround the raised space. The Pope
is present in full canonicals, to perform the ceremony in person. A
gallows has been considerately provided, in order to lower the imperial
crown on to the brows of the future wearer more conveniently. On
the gallows is painted, 'Patrick Death, Gibbet-maker to his Imperial
Majesty the Emperor of all the Gulls.' The Pope, who holds the string,
which works over a pulley, and suspends the Crown, is crying somewhat
irreverently: 'In a little while you shall see him, and in a little
while you shall not see him.' The weight of the diadem is too much for
the wearer and his new throne, the planks of the platform are broken
through, and the future emperor is sinking beneath, while calling to
his confederate Talleyrand, 'My dear Talleyrand, save me! my throne is
giving way. I am afraid the foundation is rotten, and wants a cursed
deal of mending!' His prime minister is much concerned, 'Ah, master,
the crown is too heavy for you!'
Another pillar of the Church is pointing out that the Corsican has
not acted with his usual cunning, 'You forgot your old Uncle, the
new bishop--if you had made me Pope I should have let the crown down
easier!' The ceremony is parodied in the background, monkeys taking the
place of the actual performers, only in this case the imperial ape is
seated in state, with sceptre and orb, in greater security.
1804. _Theatrical Leap-frog._ Published by Ackermann, Strand.--The
young Roscius, as an infant prodigy, is flying over the back of Kemble,
both the performers being dressed in the habit then customary for
Hamlet--'Alas!' cries Kemble, 'is it come to this? Ah, woe is me!
seeing what I have seen, seeing what I see! O Roscius!'
_December, 1804._ _Melpomene in the Dumps, or Child's Play defended by
Theatrical Monarchs._ Published by Ackermann, Strand.--Mrs. Siddons in
tragic swathings, one arm resting on a table, her other hand extended
in an interlocutory attitude, while her foot is resting on a stool; on
the table are books--_Salary Benefits_, _The Rights of Woman_, and _The
Duty of Man_. On the wall is hung Bunbury's _Propagation of a Lie_.
John Philip Kemble is resting his hand on her shoulder, and another
gentleman, hat in hand, is pointing with his finger to a shorter
figure, probably intended for the person of Colonel Topham, Editor of
_The World_, '_More Soldier than Scholar!_'
THE DEBATE OR ARGUMENT.
_Melpomene._ And pray, Mr. Monarch, how long am I to be confined
to this _box fever_, or nervous rheumatism in my loins? A pretty
business you have made of this season; what between your _Blind
Bargain_ and _Infant Roscius_, you think to send me to the ground;
but let me caution you, that 'if once I do but stir or lift this
arm, the best of you shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know how
this foul rout began, who set it on, and he that is approved in
the offence, though he hath twinned with me, _both at a birth_
shall lose me.'
_First Monarch._ [Probably intended to designate Sheridan.] Why
really, Madam, all I can say in my defence or that of my _Infant_
is this, that if John Bull chooses to feed on slink calf, instead
of substantial roast beef, _yet consents to pay for the roast_,
it is not for me to complain; but, Madam, should there be a fault
laid at my charge, let me tell you it is not entirely mine; your
brother here, beside me, has had _his share_ in it, and between
friends, I must observe, that you have had your day; and if a
good salary during this _Infant fever_ and frigid weather cannot
encourage you to wear flannel, gird up your loins, and rest
contented on your arm (I mean arms). I will be bound to say, you
are not the woman I took you for; and rather than _be subject_ to
such complaints while I _reign_ 'King of shreds and patches,' I
would forego the advantages of government, and 'live on scraps at
proud men's surly doors.'
_Second Monarch._ [John Philip Kemble, otherwise familiarly
designated _Black Jack_.] Sister, be of comfort, our friend speaks
home; you may relish him more in the soldier than the scholar, but
though his oratory is bad, his _argumentum argentum_ is good; his
voice like mine is husky; but his _silver_ tones are delightful.
It is true we have both had our day; 'our May of life is gone;
'tis fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf, and that which should
accompany old age' _we have got_. 'The world's a stage, and all
the men and women merely players.' Public taste is similar, it
is now in second childishness; and when mere oblivion takes
place, then you shall make a sally, and should the Town require a
_filip_,[4] I will be at your elbow.