the writer was anxious, as a slight return for the kindness of his host
and the hospitalities he had received in Naples, to give a dance to a
few friends of his own and of his entertainer, his host and friend Don
Michele undertaking the entire responsibilities of inviting the guests,
ordering refreshments, decorating the chambers, and other preliminaries.
'"First, as to the company," reports the Don, "there will be ten
couples, besides our family and odd ones, if they all come, of which
there is little doubt; and what is more, _gente di garbo_ (people of
quality), such as you might suppose my friends to be. Three or four
will come in their own carriages; and some of the lasses will show you
what is called dancing at Naples. Care, too, has been taken that they
should not want for good music; you will have, Signor Don Luigi, the
first oboe of St. Carlo, two excellent violins, a flute, tenor, and
violoncel; my son will play the tambarine."
'"Six musicians, Don Michele, for this little dance! Why, that's out of
all reason. Half the number----"
'"Are _hired_; and the others, gentlemen high in the profession, who
for _my_ sake have promised to assist as friends at your party. Money,
of course, is out of the question. You see, good sir, Don Michele
can command a thing or two. As many more would have come if I had
asked them, but these will be sufficient to begin the evening with a
little concert; my friend will give you a concerto on the oboe; one
of the ladies will sing a _scena_ from an opera, to which we may add
a duet or two; and at ten o'clock the dance shall begin. As to the
refreshments, I have almost run my legs off to get you the rum (the
ladies were to be treated with ice punch, as a rarity). Seventy ices
are ordered, cakes and sweetmeats as you desired, and a friend of mine
will lend us a dozen of wall chandeliers." These lights, connected
with festoons of artificial flowers, and a number of pots of flowers
exhaling their fragrance over the rooms, gave the place an elegant
appearance.
[Illustration: DON LUIGI'S BALL.]
'The musicians arrived in good time, and the company dropped in
fast after eight o'clock. To receive such a number of strange faces
appropriately was a most irksome task,' continues the writer; 'but it
was alleviated by the sight of many a good-looking young lass, and two
or three real beauties, and one especially, Donna Carlina. My English
friends from the city, and the lieutenant and doctor from the frigate,
likewise made their appearance in due time; and healthily as their
countenances shone forth, and well-dressed as they were, they greatly
eclipsed my Neapolitan bucks, and found much grace among the ladies. I
could not help remarking the contrast of manners between two Christian
countries. In a more northern latitude, persons coming to the party of
a perfect stranger would have conducted themselves with that cautious,
anti-social reserve which some people call good manners; some of the
ladies would have sat down on their chairs as prim and as stiff as
so many hop-poles, cast down their modest looks until spoken to by
charity, and then rebuffed a second attempt by a monosyllabic reply,
a "Yes, sir," an "Indeed, sir?" a "You are very good, sir," &c. Now I
will just tell you how matters went on in the _Infrescata_. Monstrous
bows and introductory compliments: this over, all these people seemed
as though they had been twenty times in my company.' The Don describes
the improvised introductory concert, at which nearly all the company
assisted, the Neapolitans having a natural taste for melody, and most
of them being fair musicians; the entertainer next gave orders to
prepare for the dance, and to hand refreshments in the interval.
'My punch,' he continues, 'found much favour with all present, the
ladies not excepted, who emptied their glasses as rapidly as if it had
been lemonade. Although not dancing, I was fully employed in another
way. With all our windows open, the strains of my numerous orchestra
propagated their sound over the whole neighbourhood, some of whose
inhabitants, impelled by the attraction of sweet sounds, could not
resist favouring me with their company. The circumstance of their not
being invited to the feast appeared to them a mere trifle not worthy
of their attention; and an extraordinary celerity in decorating their
exterior (which is all the essential part of a Neapolitan's full
dress), would soon enable them to appear in company with Neapolitan
decency. To my great surprise, therefore, Don Michele and I had to
receive, from time to time, an influx of these unbidden guests, who in
most submissive language begged a thousand pardons for their freedom
and intrusion. As Don Michele, my master of the ceremonies, seemed to
know them all, and, moreover, as I could neither help their coming,
nor, when once arrived, turn them out, I thought it best to put a good
face on the matter, and receive every one, especially the ladies, with
a hearty welcome (as pictured forth in the plate), assigning them
places in the adjoining room, where I contrived to form another set of
dances; for the number of these parasitical guests soon grew nearly
equal to that of my standard company. As my company were now capering
away in two of my apartments, I blush to confess that my resolution
to keep my toes in a state of quiet quiescence was shaken at last. I
could have withstood the pressing solicitations of half-a-dozen of
these exhilarated damsels, but for the irresistible temptation of their
animated example, and of the excellent music. Fancy the loving smiles,
the glistening eyes, the seducing attitudes of these pretty Neapolitan
bacchantes, and then ask your conscience how long any Christian, were
he even a Quaker or Moravian, could have stood proof against such
attraction? The worst of the thing was, that having once broken my
vow by dancing with Miss Carlina, a kind of rivalry ensued among the
other ladies, most of whom now laid a successive claim to be led down a
country dance by _il Signor Colonello_.
'In the course of these pedestrian evolutions I thought I observed
in several of my fair partners, cheerful as they had been before,
an unusual and extraordinary access of spirits and gaiety; which,
with every allowance for the southern latitude and the ice punch (now
administered to them the more frugally by reason of the unlooked-for
increase in my numbers), I was at a loss to account for, till I saw
my man Benedetto whisper something into Don Michele's ear, which the
latter telegraphed into mine.
'But before I let you into this secret it is proper that, like a
skilful general, I should in my report give a correct description of
the localities of the field of battle. The kitchen belonging to my
apartments is on the same floor with them, and in this particular the
Neapolitan system of domestic architecture is not different from what
you may have observed in a set of chambers, or in many old-fashioned
mansions in England. Right opposite to the entrance of this kitchen
of mine there is an elevated shelf, on which stand (I had better
say _stood_) my three wine-bottles, of immense calibre; the first
(having been emptied since my stay in the _Infrescata_) then, and now,
containing from six to eight gallons of excellent atmospheric air (such
as you breathe at this altitude); the second, of similar dimensions,
about half full of delicious old _Pozzuoli_ wine; and the third,
not less in size, brim-full of the like grape-juice, with its fluid
oil-bung floating at the top.
'No sooner did one of the damsels espy the forbidden shelf than the
assault thereon was a settled matter: _veni, vidi, bibi_, was the
word; and my delicious _Pozzuoli_ wine fell an easy prey to their
sacrilegious hands and palate. _Implentur veteris Bacchi_, or, in plain
English, mesdames tippled till they had their fill, and what they left
was very nearly finished by four or five half-starved footmen and
other hall rabble in attendance on their worthy masters; for when Don
Michele went into the kitchen he found but a small remnant in one of
the bottles, which he secured in his own room.
'Inspired with the juice and further excited by the agitation of
dancing, most of my fair guests became still more exhilarated; some
grew ecstatically merry, and a few scarcely manageable. Surrounded
by these voluptuous "bacchæ," I feared the fate of Orpheus. Their
frolics, however, I must say to their credit, were chiefly levelled
at Don Michele, probably because he had spoiled the continuation of
their sport. The poor man had now to suffer all sorts of mischief for
refusing to join in their revels, till at last, for the sake of peace,
he consented to dance _one_ minuet, and no more. All was hushed in
an instant, when he placed himself with his fortunate partner in the
middle of the room, as stiff as buckram and as serious as if he were
occupied with the solution of an algebraic problem. But no sooner had
he performed the first step or two, than, in turning his body with
grave elegance on the pivot of his toe, a pair of white silk garters
were seen gracefully dangling down his back, and describing, at every
turn of his automaton body, a variety of flowing irregular curves
in the circumambient air. The merriment which this unusual sight
occasioned, was in vain attempted to be stifled in a muttered titter;
it soon burst out with increased violence, his wife not excepted,
who heartily joined the general laugh, but informed her better half
of the cause of the satisfaction he gave the company. When I learned
the extent of the spoliation committed upon my bin, I did not so
much regret the actual loss I thereby sustained, as apprehend some
unpleasant scenes of interruption to our festivity and mirth from the
excessive indulgence in the forbidden juice. However, whether it was
owing to the excellence of the vintage, or to strength of constitution
in the fair partakers, only one casualty occurred.
'The dawn of morn was the signal for the gradual separation of the
company, from all of whom, whether of the establishment or extra
guests, I had received in the course of the evening the most pressing
requests to make their house my own; and to their credit I must say
that, as far as I have yet had time or inclination to try the sincerity
of their invitations, I have had no cause to regret my complaisance.
'When I relate that five leaden ice-moulds and eight of the
confectioner's pewter spoons were missing, you will scarcely suppose
that any of the good things, such as cakes, sweetmeats, &c., were
suffered to remain on the sideboard at the departure of my guests.
Whether this practice not to "leave a wreck behind" is as general
here as in Malta, I am unable to decide. At the latter place, let the
provision be ever so abundant, what the stomach cannot compass the
pockets are sure to hold, and in stuffing those no great nicety is
observed; so the article is portable at all, it finds its way into one
or the other of the pedestrian saddle-bags as by instinct. I have been
assured by one of our officers that, at a great fête which General Fox
recently gave at Malta, one of the inhabitants (of sufficient rank to
be of the party) very dexterously, and, as he fancied, unobserved,
slipped a small pullet, wrapt in his pocket-handkerchief, into one of
his side receptacles. Unfortunately, an officer near him, seeing the
sleight-of-hand transaction, poured a dose of parsley and butter after
it, saying very coolly, "Allow me, sir, to help you to a little sauce
at the same time."'
1815. _The Dance of Death._ With illustrations, 2 vols., royal 8vo.
Published by R. Ackermann. (See 1816.)
1816.
_January 10, 1816._ _Exhibition at Bullock's Museum of Bonaparte's
Carriage taken at Waterloo._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101
Strand.--Bullock's museum of natural curiosities was the receptacle for
most of the novelties introduced to the British public at the close
of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth centuries. It
was here that the sight-seer might view the Laplanders with their deer
and sledges, the Hottentot Venus, the Polish dwarf, the Irish giant,
and other marvels for the curious which happened to hit the capricious
taste of the hour. It seems that the relics of the first Napoleon, made
familiar enough to our generation at Madame Tussaud's Baker Street
Museum, were the chief attractions held out by the earlier Bullock in
1816. The central point of the collection is the Emperor's travelling
carriage; ladies are swarming and climbing over the vehicle, being
pushed, dragged, and lifted into the inside, on to the driving-box,
over the roof, into the boot behind, on the wheels, and, in fact,
wherever a foothold can be secured. There is an animated attendance
of visitors; the fair sex are particularly distinguishing themselves.
Other personal relics of the Corsican are spread about, much as we
see them in our day; the bust of the exile is placed by the side of a
monkey, an illustration of the prejudice in which Napoleon was held
at that period, which, by the way, is not unnatural, considering the
exertions which the European bugbear had employed to ruin English
commerce and to alienate our possessions abroad.
1816. _Bullock's London Museum, Piccadilly._[26]--'Mr. Bullock, having
purchased Bonaparte's carriage of Major von Keller, has here exhibited
it. It was taken by him at the entrance of the small town of Jenappe,
at eleven o'clock on the night of June 18, 1815. A full account of the
carriage and its ingenious contents is to be found in the _Repository
of Arts_ for February 1816.'
_March 31, 1816._ _The Attempt to Wash the Blackamoor White. In the
Whitehall, City of Laputa._--There is no publisher's name on this
plate, and the explanation of the subject, a military scandal, is not
so clear as could be desired. An officer, dressed as a hussar, is
standing in the centre, while being submitted to the whitewashing
process; he wears no sword, and is holding a written defence in one
hand. Above his head appears an arm, also belonging to an officer,
which is menacing the hussar, who is appealing to his friends: 'O save
my honour. Rub away, my friend, rub it _home_. O, 'tis the phantom of
a horrid dream.' Another officer, from his uniform apparently in the
Guards, is treading on a written 'oath,' and, with a pail of whitewash,
is doing his best for the so-called 'Blackamoor,' declaring, 'We'll
say nothing about your honour!' Another friend, in a Highland uniform,
evidently a person of rank, since he wears a red riband, and has a star
on his breast, is trying to obliterate the mark of a kick, which has
left an ugly outline of a foot on the white pantaloons of the injured
individual, but the impression is ineradicable: 'Deel o' me saul, mon,
but the stain of the foot will ne'er come oot.'
1816 (?) _Bostonian Electors of Lancashire._ Published by W. Holland.
1816. _Lady Hamilton at Home, or a Neapolitan Ambassador._--The outline
of this subject, which is not without its interest as a contemporary
sketch of a celebrated trio, is from an original drawing in the
collection of the present writer. There seems some discrepancy about
the date, since Sir William Hamilton died in 1803, and the sketch
evidently belongs to the latter period of the ambassador's life. Sir
William Hamilton, whose collection of antiques formed a valuable
addition to the national collection in the British Museum, was, it
will be remembered, successful in rendering such services to Admiral
Nelson, by his influence with the court of Naples, where he resided
as British ambassador, that our naval hero was enabled to refit and
victual his fleet entirely, without losing the time which would have
been sacrificed in returning to England, and thus contributed in a
marked degree to assist Nelson in surprising the French fleet in
Aboukir Bay, resulting in the famous victory of the Nile, which first
checked the tide of Napoleon's career, crippled the power of France,
and finally compelled the armies of the Republic to withdraw from
Egypt. Lady Hamilton's exertions with the Queen of Naples, over whom
she had gained considerable ascendency, were not without their national
importance, although her services were entirely ignored in the lady's
last days, at a time when the Government left her without that future
provision which Nelson, in falling fighting in his country's cause,
and bequeathing her claims as a legacy to the nation, imagined he was
securing for the support of his friend, who, it is reported, died in
abject poverty, if she did not perish of actual want, as it has been
hinted. In Rowlandson's drawing, Lady Hamilton, in classic garb, is
watering a plant placed in a classic vase; ancient busts, candelabra,
and urns are standing about; the furniture, implements, and accessories
are all fashioned after the antique. The caricaturist has taken certain
freedoms with the person of the Neapolitan ambassador, and Sir William
is travestied as a stout personage, suffering from the gout. Another
female figure, also draped after the antique, is touching a lyre, and
chanting certain ditties of her own composition; this lady represents
Miss Cornelia Knight (an authoress of some repute in her day, whose
small notoriety rests on her _Continuation of Rasselas_, and her
_Private Life of the Romans_)[27] who travelled in the suite of the
ambassador with his lady.
[Illustration: LADY HAMILTON AT HOME.]
A familiar description of Lady Hamilton and her party occurs in a diary
by Mrs. Colonel St. George, written during her sojourn among the German
courts, 1799 and 1800, and privately printed. The traveller happened to
be stopping in Dresden in October 1800, when Lord Nelson, Sir William
Hamilton, Lady Hamilton, her mother Mrs. Cadogan, and the poetess
arrived, and were received by Mr. Elliot, the English ambassador.
The portrait of Lady Hamilton is firmly drawn. Mrs. St. George thus
describes the famous 'Emma,' of whose features so many admirable
paintings exist limned by the hand of Romney. 'Her figure is colossal,
but, excepting her feet, well shaped. Her bones are large, and she
is exceedingly _embonpoint_. She resembles the bust of Ariadne: the
shape of all her features is fine, as is the form of her head, and
particularly her ears; her teeth are a little irregular, but tolerably
white; her eyes light blue, with a brown spot in one, which, though
a defect, takes nothing away from their beauty and expression. Her
eyebrows and hair are dark, and her complexion coarse. Her expression
is strongly marked, variable, and interesting; her movements in common
life ungraceful; her voice loud yet not disagreeable. Sir William is
old, infirm, all admiration of his wife, and never spoke to-day but to
applaud her. Miss Cornelia Knight seems the decided flatterer of the
two, and never opens her mouth but to show forth their praise; and Mrs.
Cadogan, Lady Hamilton's mother, is what one might expect. After dinner
we had several songs in honour of Lord Nelson, written by Miss Knight,
and sung by Lady Hamilton. She puffs the incense full in his face, but
he receives it with pleasure, and sniffs it up very cordially.
'_October 7._--Breakfasted with Lady Hamilton, and saw her represent
in succession the best statues and paintings extant. She assumes their
attitude, expression, and drapery, with great facility, swiftness, and
accuracy. Several Indian shawls, a chair, some antique vases, a wreath
of roses, a tamborine, and a few children are her whole apparatus. She
stands at one end of the room with a strong light on her left, and
every other window closed. Her hair is short, dressed like an antique,
and her gown a simple calico chemise, very easy, with loose sleeves to
the wrists. She disposes of the shawls so as to form Grecian, Turkish,
and other drapery, as well as a variety of turbans. Her arrangement
of the turbans is absolutely sleight-of-hand, she does it so quickly,
so easily, and so well. It is a beautiful performance, amusing to the
most ignorant, and highly interesting to the lovers of art. The chief
of her imitations are from the antique. Each representation lasts about
ten minutes. It is remarkable that, coarse and ungraceful in common
life, she becomes highly graceful, and even beautiful, during this
performance. After showing her attitudes, she sang, and I accompanied.
Her voice is good and very strong, but she is frequently out of tune;
her expression strongly marked and various; but she has no flexibility,
and no sweetness. She acts her songs.'
1816. _Adventures of Johnny Newcome._ Republished. (See 1815.)
1816. _Relics of a Saint, by Ferdinand._ Frontispiece by Rowlandson,
12mo.
1816. _Rowlandson's World in Miniature, consisting of groups of
figures, for the illustration of landscape scenery, drawn and etched
by T. Rowlandson. To be completed in eight monthly numbers, price 2s.
6d. each._ London: Published by R. Ackermann, Repository of Arts, 101
Strand.
_Richardson's Show._
[Illustration: RICHARDSON'S SHOW.]
_March 1, 1816._ _A Lying-in Visit._
[Illustration: A LYING-IN VISIT.]
_March 1, 1816._ _A Round Dance._
[Illustration: A ROUND DANCE.]
_March 1, 1816._ _Recruiting._
[Illustration: RECRUITING.]
_April 1, 1816._ _The Ale-house Door._
[Illustration: THE ALE-HOUSE DOOR.]
_July 1, 1816._ _A Landing Place._
[Illustration: A LANDING PLACE.]
_August 1, 1816._ _A Flying Waggon._
[Illustration: A FLYING WAGGON.]
_August 1, 1816._ _The Social Day._
[Illustration: THE SOCIAL DAY.]
_September 1, 1816._ _Rustic Recreations._
[Illustration: RUSTIC RECREATIONS.]
1816. _The Relics of a Saint. A Right Merry Tale, by Ferdinand
Farquhar._ Frontispiece by T. Rowlandson. London: Printed for T. Tegg,
Cheapside.
'Relics!' roar'd Jaconetta, holding both her sides
To give her ease,
'Sir, if you please
They're only what you gentlemen would call
A pair of _Galligaskins_, and that's all.'
1814-1816. _The English Dance of Death._ Published at R. Ackermann's,
101 Strand.--A selection from Rowlandson's famous illustrations to
the _Dance of Death_; an ingenious series, quite suited, in spite
of the grimness of the performance, to the artist's humour. The
publication secured great praise during the designer's lifetime; in
point of execution the set leaves nothing to be desired; in regard
to picturesque action and easy grouping, the illustrations will bear
comparison with any of the artist's works. As in the well-known series
by Holbein, Della Bella, &c., Death appears at the most unexpected
and inopportune moments, with that stern and ghastly reminder of the
futility of human pleasures, successes, and pursuits, of which the most
playful satirists have never been able to lose sight.
Death, in Rowlandson's series, displays his acknowledged ubiquity;
he knocks without ceremony at everyone's portal, and none can deny
him admission. Both artist and author seem to have appreciated the
resources of their subject so thoroughly, and have worked out its
grotesque spirit with such appropriateness, that the _Dance of Death_
must remain a fitting monument of their genius. A large circulation
could hardly be anticipated for a work conceived in this realistically
fearful vein. Rowlandson has drawn the various episodes which his
invention suggested with a completeness of detail rarely found in
his later designs, and the plates are executed with the fulness and
attention of finished drawings; the figures are delineated with power
and spirit, and the backgrounds are most delicate and suggestive.
The impressions are also coloured by hand with a judicious eye to
effect and harmony. Combe has worked with a vigour worthy of the
occasion; and for wit, point, and felicity we are inclined to believe
the versification to the _Dance of Death_ surpasses all his other
contributions to literature in this branch. The entire series may be
accepted as a work of higher character, in all respects, than its
popular predecessors, the better recognised _Tours of Doctor Syntax_;
and it is superior, beyond comparison, to the works which followed it.
THE ENGLISH DANCE OF DEATH.
FROM THE DESIGNS OF THOMAS ROWLANDSON.
_With Metrical Illustrations by the Author of 'Doctor Syntax.'_
LONDON: PUBLISHED AT R. ACKERMANN'S REPOSITORY OF ARTS.
Pallida Mors æquo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas
Regúmque turres.--Hor. lib. i. od. 4.
With equal pace, impartial Fate
Knocks at the palace, as the Cottage Gate.