Frontispiece.--The Rev. Dr. Syntax.
The Rev. Dr. Syntax Setting out on his Tour to the Lakes.
" " Losing his way.
" " Stopped by Highwaymen.
" " Bound to a Tree by Highwaymen.
The Rev. Dr. Syntax Disputing his Bill with the Landlady.
" " Copying the Wit of the Window.
" " Entertained at College.
" " Pursued by a Bull.
" " Mistakes a Gentleman's House for an Inn.
" " among the Tombstones.
" " Tumbling into the Water.
" " Loses his Money on the Raceground at York.
" " at a Review.
" " with my Lord.
" " made Free of the Cellar.
" " Sketching the Lakes.
" " Drawing after Nature.
" " Robbed of his property.
" " Sells his horse 'Grizzle.'
" " Rural Sports.
" " with the Dairymaid.
" " at Liverpool.
" " Reading his Tour.
" " Preaching.
" " with the Bookseller.
" " at Covent Garden Theatre.
The Doctor's Dream: 'The Battle of the Books.'
The Rev. Dr. Syntax returned from his Tour.
" " taking Possession of his Living.
1814.
_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.
_Café des Mille Colonnes--'Dance of Life.'_
This sober verse, this tranquil strain,
Were it to strive, would strive in vain
That in its couplets should be shown
The Café of the Mille Colonnes.
The pencil gives a better ken
Of its fair Queen--for, ah, no pen
Can paint her glory's grand design,
At least an earth-made pen like mine;
I therefore leave it as 'tis done,
To the rare skill of ROWLANDSON;
By whose enliv'ning, vivid touch,
To which this volume owes so much,
The lady's splendour will survive
When all her graces cease to live,
And the proud mirrors shall no more
Reflect her beauties ten times o'er;
Or when another takes her chair,
Not half so fat, if half as fair.
[Illustration: MADAME VÉRY.]
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.'
[Illustration: LA BELLE LIMONADIÈRE.]
_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.
[Illustration: THE PROGRESS OF GALLANTRY.]
_February 14, 1814._ _Progress of Gallantry, or Stolen Kisses
Sweetest._ Published by T. Tegg (313).
[Illustration: A TAILOR'S WEDDING.]
_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).
[Illustration: CRIMPING A QUAKER.]
_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).
From fickle Fortune's gamesome lap
What various titles flow!
The Emperor of Conj'rors, Nap,
The King of Beggars, Joe!
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.
Boney, canker of our joys, now thy tyrant reign is o'er.
Fill the merry bowl, my boys, join in bacchanalian roar.
Seize the villain, plunge him in--see, the hated miscreant dies.
Mirth, and all thy train, come in; banish sorrow, tears, and sighs!
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.
Woe is me, seeing what I have seen,
And seeing what I see!
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:--
Thou'rt doom'd to pains at which the damn'd will tremble,
And take their own for joys.
_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.