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.