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

admirable rarities._ Edward Jones, bard to the Prince of Wales. Coloured frontispiece by T. Rowlandson. 1803. _February 1, 1803._ _Signiora Squallina._ _February 1, 1803._ _Sweet Lullaby._ _February 1, 1803._ _Queer Fish._ _February 1, 1803._ _Recruits._ (See 1811.) _March 1, 1803._ _A Catamaran, or an Old Maid's Nursery._ Published by T. Rowlandson, 1 James Street. _March 1, 1803._ _Richmond Hill_, after H. Bunbury. Published by R. Ackermann. _March 1, 1803._ _Billiards_, after H. Bunbury. Published by R. Ackermann. _April 1, 1803._ _The Road to Ruin._ Published by S. W. Fores. _April 6, 1803._ _A Diver._ T. Rowlandson invt., 1803. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.--The figure introduced under this title is perhaps as droll as any which Rowlandson has drawn. The scene represents the interior of _a Bagnio_, '_Hot and Cold Baths_, _cupping_, _sweating_, &c., &c.' From the picture it would seem that the bath-attendants of the period, who administered the rough towellings and flesh brushings, which are indicated in the plate, were not of the sex one generally expects to find discharging these functions in our own day. In the case of _The Diver_ no very glaring impropriety is suggested--the individual in question is like a ball of flesh; the image, on an exaggerated scale, of the Chinese joss-figures, and literally perfectly spherical; his quaint image is reflected in the water as he plunges forward in a sort of cricket-ball bound; a print of Narcissus gazing on his form in the fountain, suspended on the wall, suggests a sufficiently striking contrast. _April 12, 1803._ _Ducking a Scold._ _May 1, 1803._ _John Bull Listening to the Quarrels of State Affairs._ (Treaty of Amiens.) Published by R. Ackermann.--John Bull, with his hair standing on end, is listening, stooping, with his hands on his knees--'I declare my very wig stands on end with curiosity. What can they be quarrelling about? Oh that I could be let into the secret! If I ax our gentleman concerning it, 'tis ten to one if he tells me the right story. Buonaparte, with his cocked hat on, and his great sword by his side, is insisting on his arguments, 'And so--if you do so--I do so!' 'Jurisprudist,' a gentleman of the black robe (possibly meant for the Chancellor), appears very uncomfortable at the Corsican's decided attitude; he is crying in consternation, 'Oh!' _June 21, 1803._ _A Snug Cabin, or Port Admiral._ (See June 21, 1808.) _July 1, 1803._ _A Stage Coach._ _July 10, 1803._ _Flags of Truth and Lies._ Published by R. Ackermann.--John Bull, as an honest Jack Tar, is holding out the Union Jack, and pointing to his inscription in reply to the message of intimidation set forth on the tricolour, held out by a huge-booted, long-queued Frenchman, a composite being between a soldier and postilion:--'Citizen First Consul Buonaparte presents compliments and thanks to the Ladies and Gentlemen of Great Britain, who have honoured him with their visits at Paris, and intends himself the pleasure of returning it in person as soon as his arrangements for that purpose can be completed.' 'Mon grand Maître, bid a you read dat, Monsieur.' John Bull replies: 'Um, let your Grand Master read that, Mounseer':--'John Bull does not rightly understand the Chief Consul's lingo, but supposes he means something about invasion; therefore the said John Bull deems it necessary to observe that if his consular Highness dares attempt to invade any ladies or gentlemen on his coast, he'll be damned if he don't sink him!' 1804. _January 1, 1804._ _Diana in the Straw, or a Treat for Quornites._ Published by S. W. Fores. _January 2, 1804._ _A French Ordinary._ (Originally published in 1801.) S. W. Fores, 50 Piccadilly.--The attractions of a cheap French table d'hôte are ludicrously set forth; while the ravenous diners are represented making the best use of their opportunities within the _salle à manger_, the delicate character of the attendance and the culinary department are slyly hinted. We are admitted to the secrets of _la cuisine Française_, as they have seemingly been revealed to the caricaturist. The slovenly old cook is emptying the morsels left from the plates of the customers, into the capacious _pot-au-feu_, to reappear dished up for succeeding _convives_. A lean cat is seated in the frying pan, probably in course of fattening for the spit; as to the larder, the main provisions consist of dead cats and frogs; it was an accepted axiom that all the _Jean Crapauds_, as our Gallic neighbours were playfully christened by John Bull, lived more or less on frogs. Rowlandson, as we have shown, had French relatives, and had studied in Paris and spoke the language with fluency; while those travellers who were familiar with native habits, from travelling abroad, stoutly maintained that such were the staples of the national food, being convinced of the truth of the formula, as asserted by the waggish Peter Pindar--'I've liv'd among them and have eat their frogs!' [Illustration: A FRENCH ORDINARY.] _June 8, 1804._ _Light Volunteers on a March._ Published by R. Ackermann. _June 8, 1804._ _Light Infantry Volunteers on a March._ Published by Ackermann. _July 31, 1804._ _The Imperial Coronation._ Published by R. Ackermann.--The platform which has been erected for this celebration is more suggestive of an execution than a coronation; a body of the old Guards, in their bear-skin caps, surround the raised space. The Pope is present in full canonicals, to perform the ceremony in person. A gallows has been considerately provided, in order to lower the imperial crown on to the brows of the future wearer more conveniently. On the gallows is painted, 'Patrick Death, Gibbet-maker to his Imperial Majesty the Emperor of all the Gulls.' The Pope, who holds the string, which works over a pulley, and suspends the Crown, is crying somewhat irreverently: 'In a little while you shall see him, and in a little while you shall not see him.' The weight of the diadem is too much for the wearer and his new throne, the planks of the platform are broken through, and the future emperor is sinking beneath, while calling to his confederate Talleyrand, 'My dear Talleyrand, save me! my throne is giving way. I am afraid the foundation is rotten, and wants a cursed deal of mending!' His prime minister is much concerned, 'Ah, master, the crown is too heavy for you!' Another pillar of the Church is pointing out that the Corsican has not acted with his usual cunning, 'You forgot your old Uncle, the new bishop--if you had made me Pope I should have let the crown down easier!' The ceremony is parodied in the background, monkeys taking the place of the actual performers, only in this case the imperial ape is seated in state, with sceptre and orb, in greater security.