Chapter XI: Part 11

_September 20, 1813._ _A Doleful Disaster, or Miss Fubby Tatarmin's Wig caught Fire._ (Vide _Bath Guide_.)--A stout lady is in all the consternation of a blazing head of hair; the enormous superstructure piled on her head has caught fire at the top from the sconces on the mantel; her armchair is kicked over, and the whole of her household are making a desperate rush on to the scene of the conflagration; the footman has dragged the tablecloth from beneath the tea equipage, which has fallen to destruction, and is endeavouring to envelope the headdress of his mistress in the folds; a black page is discharging a flowerpot of water in the face of the distressed lady; female servants are flinging up their arms and screaming; and, in the rear, the elder servants are hurrying up in great distress.

But Madge at the Rooms
Must beware of her plumes;
For if Vulcan her feather embraces,
Like poor Lady Laycock,
She'll burn like a haycock,
And roast all the Loves and the Graces.
ANSTEY'S _Bath Guide_.

_November 5, 1813._ _The Two Kings of Terror. Copy of the transparency exhibited at Ackermann's Repository of Arts during the Illuminations of the 5th and 6th November, 1813, in honour of the splendid victories obtained by the Allies over the armies of France, at Leipzic and its environs._--'This subject, representing the two tyrants--viz., the tyrant Buonaparte and the tyrant Death--sitting together on the field of battle, in a manner which promises a more perfect intimacy immediately to ensue, is very entertaining. It is also instructive to observe that the former is now placed in a situation in which all Europe _may see through him_. The emblem, too, of the circle of dazzling light from mere _vapour_, which is so _soon extinguished_, has a good moral effect; and as the gas represents the dying flame, so does the drum, on which he is seated, typify the hollow and noisy nature of the falling usurper.'

The above description of the subject appeared in the _Sun_ of Saturday, November 6, 1813. These printed comments arose from the picture itself having been transparent, and from a circle which surmounted the same, indicative of the strength and brotherly union of the Allies, composed of gas of brilliant brightness. (See January 1, 1814.)

_November 22, 1813._ _The Norwich Bull Feast, or Glory and Gluttony._ Published by T. Tegg (232).--The success gained by the allied armies over Napoleon and his forces, and the series of French disasters which had culminated at Leipzig, gave rise to rejoicings all over the country, in celebration of the supposed final downfall of the Corsican Emperor, the traditional enemy of England, as the people had been taught to consider him. Norwich, according to the print, is the scene of disorderly revelry. A huge bullock has been roasted whole in the market-place, and the carcase is being cut up and distributed in the streets; the unruly mob fighting over the morsels and wrenching the bones from those who are ravenously picking them; scuffles, struggles, scrimmages, and savage onslaughts are the order of the day. At the same time a puncheon of beer or spirits is broached for gratuitous distribution, and a pretty spectacle of misrule is the consequence. The fair sex are represented as the chief competitors for the drink; pails, cans, and jugs are eagerly filled, and as greedily emptied; the contents being poured down the throats of the holders or down those of their friends, who are opening their mouths to receive the liquor, which is gushing forth in streams. The incidents surrounding the liquor-cart are, if possible, more disreputable and degrading than those transpiring on all sides of the trestles on which the ox is being dismembered by a pair of butcher's men, armed with a chopper and a huge carver. Some of the female patriots are reduced to insensibility, and efforts are being made to revive one poor creature, who is lying unconscious in the midst of the struggling mass, either overpowered by the potency of the drink or smothered by the pressure; buckets of the fluid are being emptied over the prostrate sufferer by tipsy Samaritans, without alleviating her condition.

The town of Norwich is given up to the gala; flags are flying, and illuminations and fireworks render the sight more animated. A tumultuous procession is struggling along, bearing guns, pikes, &c., and carrying the effigy of Buonaparte to be gibbeted or burnt at a bonfire. Flags head the mob, inscribed _Downfall of the Tyrant_; _Peace and Plenty_, &c.

_November 25, 1813._ _A Long Pull, a Strong Pull, and a Pull All together._ Published by T. Tegg (233).--The end of 1813 promised to witness the downfall of the great 'little Boney;' one misfortune followed another; ally after ally abandoned the conqueror, who in the hour of victory had behaved magnanimously to the subjugated States, and they in return deserted their new friend when disasters were pressing on him--a sure proof of the danger of confiding in alliances extracted at the point of the sword or made in bad faith on grounds of desperate expediency. As we have seen, the blow came from the North: the treachery of Bernadotte, King of Sweden, a man who owed his elevation to the Emperor, pointed the way to prostrate Europe to free herself from the ambitious thraldom of Napoleon; the Russian Bear broke his false slumbers, the Austrian and Prussian Eagles escaped from their chains, Spain was cleared of the invaders, and lastly the Kingdom of Holland revolted in the rear of the disabled Corsican. The king, Napoleon's brother, Louis, whom he had imposed on this kingdom, had voluntarily abdicated the crown in favour of his son, a minor, in 1810. The subject is treated allegorically by Rowlandson. _The Sun of Tyranny_ is setting on the deep; the fleets of the allies are riding on the seas, which are once more free, and the Dutch are helping to push off the Texel fleet to join the common cause. As the Allies marched against France after Napoleon's defeat at Leipzig, a combined force was sent against Holland, which had been incorporated with the French Empire in 1810, and placed under the constitution of Jan. 1, 1811, the seventeen provinces of the Netherlands being united under the dominion of France. The Prussian and Russian forces, under General Bülow, were joined by a detachment from England under General Graham; the old Orange party once more came into activity, and on November 30, 1813, the hereditary Stadtholder arrived at the Hague. The caricaturist has simplified his view of the situation by ignoring the change of affairs that had intervened since 1810, when the Duke of Piacenza became the Emperor's representative in Amsterdam until 1811, when the State was merged into the French Empire. The artist has assumed that the kingdom had remained as administered at the resignation of Louis, July 1, 1810; and accordingly the abdicated monarch, without his crown, is pictured dancing about in a distracted state on the soil of Holland, deploring: 'Oh! Brother Nap, Brother Nap, we shan't be left with half a crown a-piece!' Napoleon is represented, according to the usual fashion of the satirists, flying about in an ungovernable frenzy as he views the receding fleet and recognises the revolt of the Netherlanders: 'Oh! Brother Joe, I'm all fire; my passion eats me up! Such unlooked-for storms of ills fall on me! It beats down all my cunning; I cannot bear it! My ears are filled with noise, my eyes grow dim, and feeble shakings seize every limb!'

The _Long Pull, Strong Pull, and a Pull all together_ is taking place on the mainland. The weight and persevering force of John Bull is telling on the towing-line; the Don Spaniard is hand-over-hand with the national prototype, a condition of things marvellously altered since the days of the caricature. A Russian, in furs, is the next in energy; an Austrian huzzar has the rope well over his shoulder; a Prussian and others are throwing their exertions into the haul; and all is moving as merrily as could be desired.

_November 27, 1813._ _The Corsican Toad under a Harrow._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The Corsican, who is represented as both prematurely aged and haggard, is sprawled, spread-eaglewise, on the ground; upon him is a formidable harrow, which is kept in its place by the obese figure of a traditional Hollander, who is leisurely smoking, with his hands in his pockets and an Orange favour in his hat, in philosophic indifference to the situation and sufferings of the victim, who is exclaiming, 'Oh! this heavy Dutchman! Oh! had I not enough to bear before!!!'

A Cossack is goading on the prostrate leader of the French with his lance; and a bird of prey is swooping down, attracted by the smell of carrion. The harrow is in vigorous hands, representatives of Austria, Prussia, and other German Powers; Spaniards, Portuguese, and a British tar are tugging away with hearty good-will.

_November 27, 1813._ _The Execution of two celebrated Enemies of Old England, and their Dying Speeches, November 5th, 1813._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The effigy of Guy Faux, with his lantern, is suspended by a rope round his neck to a gallows, and facing him, on another gallows, is the figure of the Emperor Napoleon, in his uniform as general of the French army. A bonfire is blazing up bravely, and a party of schoolboys and villagers are the delighted spectators. A note informs us that the scene is not an imaginary one, but is a faithful representation of a 'bonfire at Thorpe Hall, near Louth, Lincolnshire, on 5th November, 1813, given by the Rev. W. C---- to the boys belonging to the seminary at Louth, in consequence of the arrival of news of the decisive defeat of Napoleon Buonaparte by the Allies, at 11 o'clock P.M. on the 4th, and Louth bells ringing all night.'

_Guy Faux's Dying Speech._

I, Guy Faux, meditating
my country's ruin by the
clandestine and diabolical
means of Gunpowder Plot, was
most fortunately discovered
and brought to condign
punishment by Old England,
and here I bewail my fate.

_Napoleon Buonaparte's Dying Speech._

I, Napoleon Buonaparte, flattered by all the French
nation that I was invincible, have most cruelly and most
childishly attempted the subjugation of the world. I have
lost my fleets, I have lost the largest and finest armies ever
heard of, and I am now become the indignation of the
world and the scorn and sport of boys. Had I not spurned
the firm wisdom of the Right Hon. William Pitt, I might
have secured an honourable peace, I might have governed
the greatest nation; but, alas! my ambition has deceived
me, and Pitt's plans have ruined me.

_November 29, 1813._ _Dutch Nightmare, or the Fraternal Hug Returned with a Dutch Squeeze._ Published by R. Ackermann.--The great Emperor is stretched, sleepless, on his imperial state bed, with the diadem above and a row of captive crowns embroidered round the canopy, the fasces of Roman lictors at the feet, and the furniture powdered with golden eagles and fleur-de-lis. This luxurious couch is not to be coveted, since tranquil rest is out of the question. The Emperor is writhing in agony, saddled with a nightmare which is not to be dislodged. The Hollanders at this time contrived to shake themselves free from their fraternal friends the French, who had laid their country under contributions until the disciples of freedom prayed to be delivered from their tutors. The example of Holland and the victories ending with the triumph at Leipzig gained by the Allies, and especially the successes secured under Wellington, re-encouraged the subjugated and prostrate Powers to look forward to the recovery of their freedom, and to take their revenge on the little conqueror. A stout Dutchman, dressed in his national costume, and wearing the Orange cockade, is, according to the picture, returning the lesson in fraternity which had cost him dear at the hands of the French, by showing his instructor the vigour of a hearty Dutch squeeze. This heavy incubus, with his hands in his pockets, is smoking his pipe, and puffing the distasteful fumes full into the face of the powerless and disgusted Corsican, and crying, 'Orange Boven!'

_November 30, 1813._ _Plump to the Devil we boldly Kicked both Nap and his Partner Joe._ Published by T. Tegg (234).--The heavy Hollander, still sporting his Orange colours, is finally roused to dispose of the intruders by the most summary and quickest method possible; with his pipe in one hand and a squab bottle of Schiedam, or Dutch courage, held like a mallet in the other, Mynheer is giving Nap a taste of Dutch weight; one vigorous kick has propelled the little Corsican high into the air and plump into the arms of the Father of Evil, who is emerging from his 'Brimstone Lake' to make sure of his friend. In the distance another Dutchman, provided with a pitchfork, is prodding Napoleon's brother Louis--who had been created King of Holland--towards the same refuge for the destitute; the usurper's crown being left behind in the flight.

_December 4, 1813._ _The Corsican Munchausen--humming the Lads of Paris._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The Emperor, with all the bombast, bravado, and speciousness of which he had an excellent command, has summoned a meeting of his faithful subjects and supporters--who, judging from the expression of their faces, appear but an unwilling and disaffected audience--in order to present his infant son to the people. The scion of the great captain is dressed in a miniature uniform, with a long sabre trailing on the ground, and a gold stick, which he is trying to fancy is a riding-horse. The Imperial throne, the back of which bears a Medusa's head and a globe of the world, is capsized by Munchausen's manoeuvrings. The Corsican is vapouring on a grand scale, trying ineffectually to raise the ardour of his dupes: 'Did I not swear I would destroy Austria? Did I not swear I would destroy Prussia? Did I not leave the Russians 1,200 pieces of cannon to build a monument of the victory of Moscow? Did I not lead 498,000 men to gather fresh laurels in Russia? Did I not burn Moscow, and leave 400,000 brave soldiers to perish in the snow, for the good of the French nation? Did I not swear I would destroy Sweden? Did I not swear I would have colonies and commerce? Did I not build more ships than you could find sailors for? Did I not burn all the British produce, bought and paid for by my faithful merchants, before their faces, for the good of them and of my good people of Paris? Have I not called my troops from Holland, that they might not winter in that foggy climate? Have I not called my troops from Spain and Portugal, to the ruin of the English? Did I not change my religion and turn Turk, for the good of the French nation? Have I not blown up the corporal for blowing up the bridge? Have I not robbed the churches of twenty flags to send to my Empress, for the loss of my own flags and eagles? And now, for the good of my Empire, behold, O ye Lads of Paris! I have put the King of Rome in breeches!!!'

_December 6, 1813._ _Funking the Corsican._ Published by R. Ackermann.--The situation of the Emperor, as pictured by Rowlandson, is becoming critical; he is elevated on a cask of 'real Hollands Geneva,' on the top of which he is dancing about in exasperation, unable to assist himself, and surrounded by his enemies, who are all putting the great conqueror to his wits' end and revenging themselves by smoking out the Corsican; each of the representatives of the rebellious States and Powers being armed with a pipe, and pouring volumes of the fumes round the person of the tortured general; Spain, Portugal, Hanover; the Cossack, the Pole, Austria, Sweden, Bavaria, and Prussia, seated on a cannon, are all assisting; the King of Würtemburg is provided with a flask of 'Würtemburg drops;' John Bull has his foaming jug of 'brown stout;' while the Dutch Mynheer, seated on a cask of Dutch herrings, with his tobacco-pouch and twists of pigtail, is drawing a flagon of Geneva to drink success to his Serene Highness, sending out a volume of tobacco-fumes, which are completing the irritation of the badgered Corsican, who is kicking off the head of the Hollands cask, into which he will evidently plump head over ears--

The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.

Before disappearing condign vengeance is threatened on the heads of his enemies: 'Oh! you base traitors and deserters! Eleven hundred thousand Lads of Paris shall roast every one of you alive, as soon as they can catch you!'

_December 10, 1813._ _The Mock Phoenix!!! or a vain attempt to rise again._ Published by R. Ackermann.--Holland, in the person of a Dutch skipper, and Russia, in that of a Cossack, are blowing and stirring a fire which is to consume the Corsican. Flames are issuing from the furnace, and, in spite of the exertions of the stokers, the figure of the Emperor is seen dwarfed, but still intact, in the thick of the fire, but whether he will rise seems doubtful; his diadem is in full blaze, while the orb and sceptre are snatched away by certain diabolic claws, and the phoenix process threatens to prove a signal failure. Serpents are crawling out of the mouth of the furnace; showers of snakes, dragons, devils, and all kinds of monsters, kin of the phoenix, are hovering amidst the smoke, and making hostile demonstrations against the declining conqueror.

_December 12, 1813._ _Friends and Foes--up he Goes--Sending the Corsican Munchausen to St. Cloud._ Published by R. Ackermann.--The Emperor is left, unsupported, in the hands of his enemies, now turned into tormentors: he is thrown into a blanket and tossed up into the air, and is suffering worse discomforts than did Sancho Panza under a similar infliction; crown, sceptre, and sword are shaken off. '_O misericorde!_' cries the flying Munchausen as he is sent up to the clouds. John Bull (whose wig and hat have been thrown aside), the Dutch Mynheer, and Spanish Don are performing wonders with their side of the blanket; then come the Cossack, the Pope, the Pole, the Prince Imperial of Austria, the Emperors of Russia and Austria, and the Kings of Prussia, Hanover, and Würtemburg, who are all lending a hand to torment the Corsican.

_December 14, 1813._ _Political Chemists and German Retorts, or Dissolving the Rhenish Confederacy._ Published by R. Ackermann.--A delicate operation, which has engaged the attention of all the leading Powers of Europe, is supposed to be proceeding. The colossal power of the Corsican is undergoing transmutation, and the conqueror is gradually being resolved into his original elements. A _German Stove_ supplies the furnace, and the fuel is recruited from John Bull's _Coal Tub_; that patriotic person is assisting the process as one of the leading experimental chemists; _Dutch bellows_ are furnishing various powerful blasts; the _Spanish Don_ is pounding some effectually irresistible chemicals in his famous mortar, _Saragossa_. The Corsican has been forced into a receiver; Bernadotte is pouring in a portion of _sulphate of Swedish iron_ before the cover is fixed on; the Emperor, who has been reduced to mere pigmy proportions, is praying for time: 'Oh, spare me till the King of Rome is ripe for mischief yet to come!' In various retorts are seen the several elements which entered into the Imperial analysis, now resolved apart--_Intrigue and Villany_, _Ambition and Folly_, _Gasconade and Lies_, _Arrogance and Atrocity_, _Fire and Sword_, _Murder and Plunder_. All the leading States of Europe are engaged in the operation; the King of Würtemburg is giving his instructions; Prussia, Austria, Hesse, &c., are all interested in the success of the operation. The Pope has contributed two potent agents, _Fulminating powder_, and _Drops from the vial of wrath_. Russia, Poland, the Emperor of Austria, &c., are seated, as chemists, at a table dividing out the agents selected to dissolve the structure raised by Napoleon. From certain tracts at the Cossack's feet we learn that the 'liberty of Germany' and the 'downfall of Boney' are settled projects; while the name of Napoleon, as protector of the Rhenish confederacy, is crossed out, and that of 'Francis, Emperor of Austria, restored 1813,' is substituted in its old ascendency.

_Napoléon le Grand. Inventée par Dubois; Alex. Tardieu effigiem del. Deposée à la Bibliothèque Impériale._--A parody of the French plate of Napoleon's apotheosis--

Astre brillant, immense, il éclaire, il féconde,
Et seul fait, à son gré, tous les destins du monde.-VIGÉE.

The head of Napoleon appears as the centre of the constellation, _Polar Star_, elevated, in this case, like that of a traitor, on a pole, and surrounded by entwined and hissing serpents. Above is the face of Satan, wearing a crown of _Damnation_, supported by two escutcheons, marked _Heart of Tyrant_, and _Vulture_, with scourges and pronged forks. The pole is elevated on the great globe; in either corner is a French eagle; above the Imperial ensigns are pikes, axes, and standards, 'flags manufactured for the Empress,' &c.

The lustre of the constellation, Napoleon, is likely to suffer an eclipse from the sudden descent of a Dutch comet--a philosophic Hollander, seated astride on a barrel of Hollands Schiedam, the contents of which he is ignominiously discharging over the head of the solitary star of the firmament. The golden rays with which the _astre brillant_ is illuminating the universe owe their source to the following luminous achievements:--

Assisting in the assassination of Louis the Sixteenth, my
Benefactor.
Murdering the citizens of Paris under Robespierre.
Murdering the citizens of Toulon.
Insulting the Pope, robbing and plundering the churches, &c., &c.
Poisoning my own sick soldiers at the hospital at Jaffa.
Murdering the Duke d'Angouléme.
Treacherously betraying the King of Spain and his family.
Murdering the inhabitants of Madrid in cold blood.
Murdering Captain Wright in the Temple, at Paris.
Marrying two wives and intriguing with the daughter of one of them.
The murder of Palm, of Hofer, &c., &c.
Leading 500,000 Frenchmen to perish in Russia by the severity of
the season 1812.
Losing another similar army the following year in Germany, 1813.
Writing lying bulletins.
Losing all the colonies, commerce, and shipping.
And for all these brilliant exploits I am now to be sent headlong to
the Devil.

_December 25, 1813._ _Mock Auction, or Boney Selling Stolen Goods._ Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--Napoleon is pictured, before his reverses became of a decided character, contemplating realising the conquests he had in hand, with a possible view of retiring from the trade. The Emperor has a sale-pulpit, and is himself officiating as auctioneer; the lot which is being offered is the crown of Spain; an old general is holding up the diadem, and the auctioneer, impatient at the indifference of the purchasers, is crying, 'What! no bidding for the crown of Spain? Then take the other crowns and lump them into one lot'--referring to a pile of diadems, the crowns of Russia, Austria, Prussia, the Papal tiara, &c., thrown into a corner, with bundles of standards, 'lots of useless eagles,' &c. Lot 2, 'Twenty flags, the property of the Empress,' 'Kingdom of Prussia,' 'Kingdom of Westphalia,' 'Saxony,' 'United Provinces,' &c. The Empress is standing behind her husband, with the infant prince in her arms. Napoleon's heir is dressed in a uniform like his father's; his face is that of a monkey. 'I suppose daddy will put us up for sale?' he is represented as saying to the Empress.

The Mock Auction has drawn plenty of company together. The Dutchman is smoking his pipe with his accustomed philosophy; a British tar is patting him on the back, as his very cordial ally, and ridiculing the Corsican's failure. The King of Würtemburg, Russia pictured as a Cossack, Austria as a huzzar, Prussia, Bavaria, and other Powers are present. The Spanish Don is making light of Buonaparte's pretence of offering his crown for sale; 'That a crown!' he is shouting. 'It's not worth half a crown!'

_December 30, 1813._ _How to Vault in the Saddle, or a new-invented Patent Crane for the Accommodation of Rheumatic Rectors._ Rowlandson delin. and publisher.--The incident depicted is taking place at the door of the rectory, beside the church porch, where a crane has been erected for the accommodation of the gouty and unwieldy divine. Two frisky and solidly-built damsels are hauling away at a rope, to which a sling is attached. The corpulent rector is swinging in mid air, preparatory to being lowered into the saddle; in his pocket is shown a discourse on the apposite text--'_He that humbleth himself shall be exalted_.' A grinning groom is holding the head of a high-cruppered horse; the minister's steed is a curiously constructed instance of equine anatomy, fondly reviving the image of the faithful _Grizzle_, rendered memorable as the _Rosinante_ of Doctor Syntax, the long-enduring companion of his famous _Tour in Search of the Picturesque_.

1813 (?). _Witches in a Hayloft._ Woodward delin., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg (226).--Two witches of orthodox type, with broomsticks, red cloaks, and steeple-crowned hats, are seated at a cauldron, working incantations, to assist at which serpents, hobgoblins, and various weird monsters are conjured up. A rustic clown, with a lantern and hayfork, who has thrown back the trapdoor, and is ascending to the hayloft for some purpose, is paralysed with horror and affright at the unholy spectacle suddenly revealed to his sight.

1813. _Business and Pleasure._ Published by T. Tegg. (272).

1813. _The Glutton._ Published by T. Tegg (274).

1813. _The Quaker and the Commissioners of Excise._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg (276).--Four well-fed Commissioners, the members of a board, seated at the green baize, are cross-questioning a Quaker, represented in a suit of conventional sad-coloured apparel, and wearing the typical broad-brimmed hat. The humility of the sectarian has proved too deep for the inquisitors, whose exactions he is evading. The chairman is indignantly remarking, 'What an impertinent fellow to keep on his hat before such a dignified assembly!' Cries one of the examiners, 'None of your _thees_ and _thous_ here, sir--come to the point--we know you have evaded certain duties.' 'Pray, sir, do you know what we sit here for?' pertinently demands another commissioner; to which the Quaker, with clasped hands, and rocking himself, like _Mawworm_, on his toes, responds, 'Verily I do--some sit here for five hundred, others for a thousand; and moreover I have heard it reported that some sit here for two thousand pounds per annum!'

1813. _Doctor Syntax, in the Middle of a Smoking Hot Political Squabble, wishes to Wet his Whistle._ Published by Thomas Tegg, Cheapside (209).

1813 (?). _A-going! A-going!_ Newton del., Rowlandson sculp., Published by T. Tegg.--A wretched invalid--propped up in an armchair, without the power to assist himself--has evidently done with the 'prescriptions, boluses, and blisters' at his side, since the ranges of physic-bottles which ornament his apartment have, to all appearance, finished the patient's business effectually; he is visited by a corpulent self-satisfied practitioner, whose hat is under one arm and his cane under the other; the doctor is addressing his unconscious patient: 'My dear sir, you look this morning the picture of health; I have no doubt at my next visit I shall find you utterly cured of all your earthly infirmities.'

1813 (?). _Giving up the Ghost, or one too many._ Newton del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg (292).--Stretched on a poor pallet, in a bare chamber, lies a wretched sufferer; by his side, sleeping in an armchair, is a lace-ruffled and powdered doctor, in whose pocket appears a dose labelled _Final_. An undertaker, in professional weeds, is coming in at the door, with his crape-bound mute's wand in his hand, and a coffin strapped on his shoulder. The ghostly personification of Death, as a skeleton, holding up his hour-glass, is pointing his dart through the latticed window. Below the chair of the smug slumbering practitioner appears a paper bearing the well-known lines:--

I purge, I bleeds, I sweats 'em;
Then, if they die, I lets 'em!

1813. _The Cobbler's Cure for a Scolding Wife._ Published by T. Tegg (294).

1813 (?). _Cracking a Joke._ Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp. Published by T. Tegg (296).

1813 (?). _The Ghost of my Departed Husband, or whither, my Love, ah! whither art thou gone?_ Rowlandson sculp.--A grotesque scene in a churchyard. An old lady is rolling over in consternation amongst the graves, and with apparently some substantial motive for her alarm; a fantastic monster, in a red nightcap, has tripped her up, while an old gentleman, cautiously proceeding with staff and lantern, is very considerably shocked at the lady's sudden upset.

1813. _Hopes of the Family, or Miss Marrowfat at Home for the Holidays._ Published by T. Tegg (296).

1813. Engelbach (Lewis). _Letters from Italy_, (_Repository of Arts_, 1809-13). Republished as _Naples and the Campana Felice_. Seventeen plates by T. Rowlandson. (See 1815.)

1813. _Poetical Sketches of Scarborough._ Text signed 'J. P.' (J. B. Papworth), text initialled 'W.' (Rev. Francis Wrangham), and anonymous text written by William Combe. The titlepage runs thus:--'_Poetical Sketches of Scarborough. Illustrated by twenty-one engravings of humorous subjects. Coloured from original designs made upon the spot by J. Green, and etched by T. Rowlandson._ London: Printed for R. Ackermann, 101 Strand. 1813.'

'Advertisement.--The originals of the plates introduced in this volume were sketches made as _souvenirs_ of the place during a visit to Scarborough in the season of 1812. They were not intended for publication; but being found to interest many persons of taste, several of whom expressed a desire to possess engravings of them, and some gentlemen having offered to add metrical illustrations to each, the present form of publication has been adopted.

'The several authors were not personally acquainted with each other. If this circumstance, and that of every design having been made previously to the composition of a single couplet, be considered fair ground of extenuation for faults, they claim its advantages.'

_Illustrations._

Frontispiece.--Widow Ducker, and her Nymphs.
A Trip to Scarbro'. (The Coach upset in a Duckpond.) (York.)
The Breakfast. (Parlour of the 'Old Bell Inn.')
The Spa. (Spa Well Stairs.)
Spa Terrace.
Boot and Shoe Shop.
The Castle (and North Shore).
The Warm Bath.
Cornelian Bay.
Sea Bathing.
A Drive on the Sands (Newby and Scalby).
The Church and Churchyard.
The Shower Bath.
The Library.
The Promenade.
The Theatre.
The Ball-room.
The Terrace Steps.
The Water Party.--Wet Quakers.
The Post Office.
The Departure.

_August 16, 1813._ _The Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of the Picturesque. A Poem._ Illustrations drawn and etched by T. Rowlandson.

[Dr. Syntax originally appeared, in parts, in the _Poetical Magazine_.]

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.

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

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

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

_February 14, 1814._ _Progress of Gallantry, or Stolen Kisses Sweetest._ Published by T. Tegg (313).

_February 20, 1814._ _A Tailor's Wedding._ Published by T. Tegg (315).

_March 1, 1814._ _Crimping a Quaker._ Published by T. Tegg (317, originally published as 261).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_April 15, 1814._ _The Rogue's March._ Published by T. Tegg (321).

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.