The edition of Mrs. Clarke's memoirs, the bombshell which threatened the aristocratic peace of mind, was purchased for a certain sum. In the print of 'Burning the Books' the heroine of the scandal is holding up the terms of surrender: '10,000l., debts paid, 600l. per annum, &c. &c.' The heroine of the memoirs is directing the destruction of her eagerly-expected volumes, containing hundreds of letters from persons of quality, including the correspondence (supposed to have been destroyed) of the Duke of York. The lady is zealous enough in the interests of her profitable clients: 'Burn away! I would burn half the universe for the money. You may preserve a copy or two for Doctor O'Meara and a few private friends. Now for my Brimstone carriage!' The printer's men are carrying piles of the offending work, and committing the edition to the flames. An acknowledgment from the publisher is on the writing-table: 'Received for paper and printing, and also for destroying this,' &c. The figure of the Duke of York is shown, slily peeping from behind a curtain; the Commander, lately resigned, is evidently delighted at the course things are taking, and is crying, 'This will do!' Many of the letters, as Mrs. Clarke declared, reflected in disrespectful terms on the heir to the throne and others of his royal brothers.
April 22, 1809. A Piece-Offering. Published by T. Tegg.—Mrs. Clarke, in all her extensive finery, is sacrificing her memoirs, Life of Mrs. Clarke, the Duke's ardent love-letters, and all the disagreeable evidences supposed to have remained in her possession, at the Altar of Repentance. The figure of the Commander is rising in effigy above the flames, in the centre of a brilliant sun; his face is turned to the authoress of the pyre with a satisfied smile. The high-priestess of the sacrifice is gratefully addressing the mollified divinity: 'Thus perish all that gives my darling pain!'
May 24, 1809. The Quaker and the Clarke. Published by T. Tegg.—A sedate Quaker, in a suit of modest brown, has turned his back on the beguiling enchantress, fair authoress of so much mischief, and is hurrying away from her entreaties 'to tarry a while,' declaring: 'Woman, avaunt! I am not to be tempted; and be it known also I am a married man,' &c.
May 28, 1809. John Bull and the Genius of Corruption. Published by T. Tegg (94).—The national prototype has been haranguing on the extinction of abuses with a compound symbolical monster, who is standing in the way of progress and healthy legislation. Mr. Bull's corrupt opponent is making the Jesuitical concession: 'What you say about Reform, Johnny, is very true, but this is not the time for it!' John Bull, who has no opinion of the obstructive party, is retorting, 'No, nor it never will be while such a monster as you remains in existence!'
The monster, who is evidently a difficult customer to deal with, wears a defensive cap of Professions and Promises; he has 'an eye to Interest,' a Mouth of Guile, and a nose to Scent for Interest; he wears the Collar of Corruption, has Wings of Speculation, Arms of Power, and Hands of Extortion, and is further provided with bags of gold for the purpose of bribery, Deep Pockets of Perquisites, Legs of Luxury, and he is propped on Feet of Connivance.
June 12, 1809. Boney's Broken Bridge.—The Austrian army is drawn up in security on one side of the river Danube; Buonaparte, in a fine rage with his discomfited generals, and his disappointed legions, are arrayed on the other bank, powerless to disturb their exulting adversaries. The Emperor is pointing to the remains of his famous bridge, and furiously demanding, in reply to the Austrian taunts: 'Ah, who is it that dares contradict me? I say it was some floating timber and the high swell of the river that caused the shocking accident!' An impolitic old general, bowing low, and in consternation at the news he is obliged to impart, is replying: 'With all due deference to your little Majesty, it was the Austrian fire-boats that destroyed the bridge.' The Archduke's troops are chanting a new edition of an old nursery rhyme:—
Boney's bridge is broken down,
Dance over the Lady Lee;
Boney's bridge is broken down
By an Archduke—ee.
July 9, 1809. Hell Broke Loose, or the Devil to Pay among the 'Darling Angels.' Published by T. Tegg.—The dark fiend is standing at the gates of the infernal regions, scourge in hand; he is dressed in the wig and robes of a judge, and poised on a slab, setting forth the well-recognised axiom: Two of a trade can never agree. The diabolical personage is holding the balance between the two principal actors in the late proceedings. It will be remembered that a misunderstanding occurred between the chief conspirators. Soon after the conclusion of the investigation in the House of Commons, Colonel Wardle and Mrs. Clarke began to exchange mutual recriminations, and the public were gratified with fresh scandalous revelations; the champion of impartial justice began to lose his strangely-earned popularity. Colonel Wardle is plunged into the scale of Patriotism, with an infernal imp to weigh him down; the gold box, in which the freedoms of more than one town were offered to the enemy of corruption, and the York impeachment papers are thrown into the scale to make weight. Mrs. Clarke is balanced against her late coadjutor in the scale of Virtue. 'Love-letters, Mr. Wright's bill, Doctor Donovan's bill,' &c., are added to weigh against the Colonel's testimonials.
July, 1809. The Tables are Turned. How are the Mighty Fallen!—The public were treated with the spectacle of the patriotic champion sued in a law court for the furniture of Mrs. Clarke's house at Westbourne Place, which had been taken on his guarantee and recommendation. The Court gave judgment against the crestfallen Colonel, who had denied his liability, and he was adjudged to pay the heavy expenses incurred in the new establishment and the incidental costs of the process. In Rowlandson's view of the situation Mrs. Clarke is seen mounted on her asinine ex-supporter; the head of the steed bears a face suggestively resembling the countenance of the patriot; a 'Turkey carpet' furnishes a saddle; the motto England expects every man to do his duty is written on the bridle; 'Wright, the upholsterer's bill' is tied to the animal's tail; the lady is whipping up her reluctant supporter with a birch labelled 'Private promises.' The ass is scattering the chairs, tables, mirrors, fenders, and other objects particularised on 'the bill' which gave the Colonel so much irritation; the flattering presentations, addresses, gold boxes, 'Thanks to my ass,' 'Lies against the Duke of York,' 'Thanks to a Welch Billy Goat,' 'From the City of London,' 'Thanks and freedom in a gold box,' and other complimentary testimonials, are scattered on the ground. The dashing rider is making an exhibition of her skilful management of the donkey tribe:—