Rowlandson the Caricaturist; a Selection from His Works. Vol. 2 by Joseph Grego

humours of Portsmouth are displayed with the caricaturist's native vigour. Nothing could be more animated than the picture, which has an air of truth, nor could the scene be represented with fuller character, all its grotesque features being brought forward with ready fun. The landing-place is bustling with business; small craft of all sorts are pulling off to the ships; luggage, spirit-casks, and packages are being wheeled or shouldered off for debarkation. A couple of sailors, with hands across to form a sedan, are carrying a stout lady of fashion down to a lighter. Jack on shore and Jack taking his chest seawards are elbowing busy stevadores. A commander, his lady, and a porter bearing his sea-trunk, are in the centre of the crowd; a wooden-legged fiddler is tipping a stave for 'Poll and her partner Joe,' and a frolicsome tar is giving a parting salute with more ardour than propriety. On one side is the respectable element--the admirals, captains, and other naval officers, and their families, who are parting from wife and children with a tender embrace at the door of the Ship Tavern; and many a gallant naval hero is draining his last bowl of punch on shore. On the opposite side such rougher contrasts are exhibited as common sailors, lodging houses, outfitting emporiums, cast clothes marts, and ship-store shops, _Moses Levy--Money Lent_, and similar tempting emporiums, where customers are inspecting second-hand apparel. Such a spectacle would not be complete, according to the taste of the times or the actualities of the case, without some sort of uproariousness, and so we are treated to the sight of a young lady carted off helplessly inebriated, a friendly companion supporting her shoulders, and an honest blue-jacket bearing her legs unceremoniously slung over his back. Another bacchanalian incident is rendered on the left, where a grinning sailor, half-seas over, who is at least better-tempered in his cups than George Cruikshank would have condescended to draw him in his teetotal days, is sprawling on the road by his broken pipe and overbalancing a florid and equally tipsy Venus, his lady-love, who is in some degree the reason of the Jack Tar's degradation. _September 15, 1814._ _The Three Principal Requisites to form a Man of Fashion: Dress like a coachman; study boxing and bull-baiting; speak the slang language fluently._ _September 15, 1814._ _The Four Seasons of Love._ Rowlandson del. Published by T. Tegg. _Spring._--A suitor, _Jerry Thimble, Tailor_, is kneeling at the feet of a blooming fair one; both of the turtle-doves are in the prime of life. 'Oh, you bewitching angel,' sues the tailor, 'behold at your feet a swain as tender as a veal cutlet. You are the very broadcloth of perfection; have pity on me, adorable Mrs. Griskin!' To which appeal the melting and buxom widow responds: 'You enchanting devil, I do not know what to say to you; however, Mr. Thimble, that mole between your eyebrows puts me so much in mind of my poor dear departed husband that I think I can't refuse you.' _Summer._--The wedded pair are enjoying a suburban excursion. The smartened tailor is smiling on his wife and declaring: 'O thou wert born to please me, my life, my only dear!' The lady, who is advancing in life, replies: 'Ay, now you look a little stylish; you are a charming man. Who would not be married!' _Autumn_ sets in more stormily; the lady, developing into a virago, is accusing her husband of receiving letters of a tender nature; the tailor, in reply, is making a counter-charge, relative to 'Mr. Dip, the dyer, and gallivanting to White Conduit House.' _Winter_ sees the late couple seated at either side of a lawyer's table; the man of law is reading the articles of separation, to the delight of the Thimbles. Mrs. Tabitha declares she never felt so comfortable in all her life; and Jerry Thimble is exclaiming: 'O blessed day! I hope to pass the next year in peace and quietness!' _September 20, 1814._ _Joanna Southcott, the Prophetess, Excommunicating the Bishops. 'Know I told thee I should begin at the Sanctuary. I will cut them all off,' having already cut off four Bishops for refusing to hear of my Visitation._ Published by T. Tegg (341).--Rowlandson availed himself of the novel religious fever which had its rise in the fictitious revelations of the so-called Prophetess, Joanna Southcott, to ridicule both the believers in latter day miracles and the members of the Establishment conjointly. One specimen of the caricatures produced on this occasion will suffice. Joanna Southcott and one of her champions are making a terrific charge on the flying pillars of the Episcopacy. The Bishops are endeavouring to kick against the onslaught, and, with mitre, wig, and crozier, are defying their chastisers; but their courage is feeble, their ranks are breaking, and they are running off discomfited to save themselves from the coming wrath, without taking any heed of the overthrown. The Prophetess, wearing her famous seal round her neck, and clad in _Elijah's mantle_, is lustily wielding a birch rod; she has caught a fugitive Archbishop by the foot, and he is vainly struggling to escape corporal correction. The 'Third Book of Wonders' is open at her feet. Her exertions are supported by a certain Rev. Roger Towzer, who is chastising the disorganised heads of the Established Church with his _Flail_; certain supernatural creatures, with flaming torches and stings and claws, are harassing the runaways. The Prophetess is very earnest in the work: 'Lay it on, hip and thigh, brave Towzer; smite the unbelievers. I put no more trust in Bishops as men than I do in their chariots and horses, but my trust is in the Lord of Hosts.' Her reverend follower is bruising away vigorously: 'I'll well dust their woolsacks and make them drunk in my fury. I will bring down their strength to the earth!' A strong-chest, in the rear, is labelled _Contents of the Sealing; the Sealed, the Elect, to inherit the Tree of Life_, &c. 1814 (?). _Rural Sports. Buck Hunting._ Rowlandson del. Published by T. Tegg.--Buck-hunting, as a figurative sport, seems, if we may believe the print, to be attended with certain difficulties. An antiquated gentleman, who in the present case seems to be the hunter, is brought up abruptly, in full view of the quarry, by a river, which he has no apparent means of crossing. The game in view, a military buck, is 'run to ground' in a summer-house, on the opposite side of the water, where, in spite of a warning-board about _Man-traps_, he is visibly poaching on the hunter's preserves. 1815. _January 1, 1815._ _Female Politicians._ Published by T. Tegg. Woodward del., Rowlandson sculp.--The fair members of a well-to-do family are seated at table. The elder is reading the news of the Corsican's last outrages: 'They write from Hanover that when Boneyparte took possession of that country he ravished all the women.' 'Oh, the wretch!' cries an old maid. A less antiquated lady is giving her fair neighbour the comforting assurance, 'It's very true, ma'am: it's only a word and a blow with him; your honour or your property.' 'Well, ma'am,' declares a buxom creature, 'if he should come here, at all events I'll take care of my property.' To which a budding maiden is adding, 'So will I, mamma.' _March 1, 1815._ _Breaking up of the Blue Stocking Club._ Published by T. Tegg (343).--The dissolution of this assembly is marked by a certain amount of animosity and fury. The learned ladies are engaging in pairs, and the subject under discussion is handled with more zeal than discretion, the arguments employed being chiefly forcible. The _Blue Stockings_ are sadly mauled; garments and hair are alike torn and dishevelled. The table, the tea equipage, and the president's armchair have all come to grief; one fair and fierce debater is trying to impress her opponent with the kettle-stand, another has floored her adversary, and is pouring forth the boiling contents of the urn over a prostrate foe. Nails, fists, and feet are alike set to work; but the favourite method of attack seems to be a firm purchase of the enemy's tresses. Cats are leaping about in dismay, and the whole tableau is one of unrestrained ferocity and recklessness. _March 1, 1815._ _Defrauding the Customs, or Shipping Goods not Fairly Entered._ Rowlandson del. Published by T. Tegg (344).--A scene of violence, since a pair of strapping damsels, the pride of their friends, are being carried off bodily, whether they will or no, by two naval officers, whose sailors are waiting by the shore, with a boat put to sea in readiness to bear them, and their abducted charges, off to a ship which is seen at a distance. These unprincipled marauders have made an attack, in broad daylight, on the two biggest and most handsome scholars of _Mrs. Crostich's boarding-school for young ladies_, while the remainder of the tender flock are taking their walks abroad, with the dame at their head. But neither the vigorous efforts of the schoolmistress, nor the exertions of an old gentleman, who has been knocked over in the escape, and is sprawling powerless like a turtle, nor the efforts of a dog which is worrying the retreat of the fugitives, seem likely to hinder the accomplishment of their flight or to prevent the successful completion of their lawless designs. _March 1, 1815._ _Hodge's Explanation of a Hundred Magistrates._ Published by T. Tegg (347).--Hodge, 'a poor honest country lout, not overstocked with learning,' has been brought before the bench on some charge or another. The smock-frocked rustic, cap in hand, is scratching his tow-like locks and questioning the fairness of the tribunal. 'How,' cries the chairman, energetically thumping away at the table in his indignation, 'how dare you, fellow, say it is unfair to bring you before one hundred magistrates, when you see there are but three of us?' In reply to which Hodge is posing his interrogator: 'Why, please your worship, you mun know when I went to school they taught I that a one and two noughts stood for a hundred; so, do you see, your worship be one, and the other two be cyphers!' _March 1, 1815._ _Sailors Drinking the Tunbridge Waters._ Published by T. Tegg (242).--The artist has sketched the old drinking-well at Tunbridge; a body of sailors, true British tars, find themselves, by some queer chance, which is totally unexplained, at the well-known watering-place, and, what is more mysterious, these sons of Neptune are in close proximity to the Springs. A comely, well-favoured, and smartly attired young damsel, the ministering nymph of the fountain--which, in this instance, it must be confessed, closely resembles a pump--is presenting a tumbler of the fluid, drawn by her own fair hands, to a sturdy ancient coxswain, impressing on the weather-beaten salt, 'Be assured it is an excellent beverage for gentlemen who have been a long time at sea.' The ancient mariner, in recalling the effects which the waters had on 'our Poll,' and remembering his own personal interior sufferings in the Mediterranean, is reluctant to rush into unknown dangers: 'Why, lookee, ma'am, I don't wish to be unpolite, but, if your ladyship's honour pleases, I'd rather hang fire a bit.' Another hardy tar is grappling with the distasteful difficulty and making frightful attempts to swallow the contents of his tumbler; but a good proportion of the water is spilt on the ground, while he is pronouncing the stuff 'Dashed queer tipple, to be sure!' Another smart sailor has his tumbler all safe in his keeping; but he is bribing a diminutive native, who is complacently staring at the prospective drinker, to run and fetch something to qualify the cup. 'Hark'ee, young two-shoes, go and get me a pint of half-and-half and a squeeze of lemon, for darn me if I could drink it neat if I was never to weigh anchor again.' _March 13, 1815._ _A Lamentable Case of a Juryman._ Published by T. Tegg (Nos. 220 and 347). _April 7, 1815._ _The Flight of Buonaparte from Hell-Bay._ Published by R. Ackermann.--We find the anticipations offered in the caricatures of the previous year completely upset by Napoleon's unexpected return. The method of the Corsican's evasion is treated figuratively; in place of the Isle of Elba he is supposed to have escaped from the clutches of the evil one and out of the depths of the infernal regions. The foul fiend, _Old Scratch_, is represented in person, amusing himself by letting his captive loose to work fresh mischief in the world above. A diabolic armchair of serpents is planted beside the fiery lake, and for pastime Satan is toying with a pipe and blowing air-bubbles, while an attendant imp is holding a saucer of suds. The Corsican has been mounted on a bubble blown by the tempter, and then sent careering back to earth; hissing dragons, and serpents of supernatural species, are hissing forth flames and blasts of fury, which are serving as winds to waft the bubble upwards, while the sulphurous fumes are inspiring the rider with a frantic thirst for vengeance. _April 8, 1815._ _Hell Hounds Rallying round the Idol of France._ Published by R. Ackermann.--The enthusiasm with which the return of 'Boney' was hailed, from his landing in France till his arrival in the capital, and the devoted reception he encountered from his old followers, are made the subjects of more than one travesty. In the present case the head and bust of the Emperor, on a colossal scale--his throat encircled by a hangman's noose--is elevated on an immense pyramid of human heads, his decapitated victims; a brace of demons are flying through the air to encircle the brow of this apostle of freedom with a crown of blazing pitch. A ring of excited demons, with horns, claws, hoofs, and tails, but bearing the heads and faces of Napoleon's supporters, are dancing in triumph round the idol they have replaced. From labels attached to the ropes which surround the throttles of these enthusiastic Bonapartists we discover the so-called 'Hell Hounds' to be Marshals Ney, Lefebre, Davoust, Vandamme, Savery, Caulincourt, with Fouché, and others. The old slaughters have recommenced; towns are committed to the flames, English goods are once more destroyed, and heaped around are soldiers, some dead and others wounded, to serve the cause of a rapacious ambition which had drained the blood of France for years.