I've a fine stud of Asses as ever was seen;
This is one of the number from Westbourne Green.
Gee up, Neddy, come up, Neddy, &c.,
What do you think of my Neddy and me?
July 14, 1809. More of the Clarke, or Fresh Accusations. Published by T. Tegg.—Colonel Wardle is exposed to the public in a humiliating position; his former mob-popularity is reversed, and their admiration is changed to ridicule. The scene is supposed to take place in front of the mansion in Westbourne Place, before which is assembled a crowd of jeering spectators. Mrs. Clarke, unabashed, as in the previous disclosures, is frankly denouncing her ex-colleague, and pointing to the luxurious fittings of her bedroom. She is unmasking the scandalised champion to his late friends the mob: 'And Clarke said unto Felix, Thou art the man;—behold the furniture! and Felix trembled.' The Colonel, whose reputation did not improve as the innuendoes of his new opponents became more daring, with clasped hands and his knees knocking together, is servilely trying to reinstate his lost reputation: 'Good people of the United Kingdom, suspend your judgment for the present, till I get this woman placed in the pillory. I never did anything naughty no more than the child unborn. It was all for the good of my country, I assure you. I am as firm a patriot as ever purchased a convex mirror or a red Turkey carpet.'
July 16, 1809. The Plot Thickens, or Diamond Cut Diamond. Published by T. Tegg.—Mrs. Clarke is still in the thick of her complications. She is standing, unmoved, in the centre of the picture. Colonel Wardle, who soon fell out with his ally when pushed to fulfil her conditions, is declaring for vengeance: 'I intend to commence an action against her for obtaining money under false pretences in the case of French's levy. I'll teach her to send gentlemen to Newgate.' Another individual, dressed as a civilian, recommends: 'Leave her to me; I'll touch her up in the furniture business!' Mrs. Clarke, with her hands on her lips, is replying: 'I don't care a fig for any of you; and as to you, Mr. Furnituremonger, I'll be beforehand with you.' A stout gentleman behind the fair intriguante cries, 'That's a good girl, follow him up; I'll back you; I'll let him know whose Wright and whose Wrong. If I don't enter an action against him I'm no upholsterer.' A young barrister, holding a voluminous brief, is smiling with satisfaction at the prospect of litigation, and encouraging both sides: 'That's right, my good friends; it's all for the Best!'
July 18, 1809. Amusement for the Recess, or the Devil to Pay amongst the Furniture. Published by T. Tegg.—Colonel Wardle is represented, in an infuriated state, wreaking vengeance on the offensive furniture, which had caused the destruction of his popularity and his reputation; the lately immaculate champion is armed with a bludgeon; he is trampling under foot 'An Essay on Keeping Bad Company,' and breaking up the elegant belongings of the establishment, for the privilege of supplying which he had been compelled to pay a sufficiently heavy penalty; he is made to exclaim: 'D—— the furniture, d—— the convex mirrors and red Turkey carpets; d—— Westbourne Place and everything that belongs to it.' Mrs. Clarke is rather entertained than dismayed at this spirit of wanton destructiveness: 'Deary, those little gusts of Welsh passion become you extremely; the exercise will do you good; besides, it will increase your popularity!'
July 30, 1809. The Bill of Wright's, or the Patriot Alarmed. Published by T. Tegg.—The upholsterer has waited on Colonel Wardle and unrolled his long bill: 'Gullem Waddle, Esq., to Wright. Red Turkey carpet, convex mirror, chandeliers, sideboards, bed furniture, chairs and tables, vases and cellarets, Egyptian furniture, sofa à la Clarke,' and other weighty items. 'Mr. Gullem Waddle, I have brought you in a small bill for goods delivered for the Cleopatra of Westbourne Place; and, as you are a true patriot, you can have no possible objection to the Bill of Wright's.' The dismayed Colonel, keeping his hands in his pockets, is making a counter-proposal: 'What do you talk about patriotism? I tell you I have left off practice. D—— the Bill of Wright's! It is all a mistake about Westbourne Place; you should have taken it to Gloucester Place—there you would be sure to have had your money!'
August 1, 1809. The Mistake. Published by T. Tegg.
August 1, 1809. Wonders, Wonders, Wonders. Published by T. Tegg. (101).—Ten figures of 'Natural Curiosities,' designed and etched by Rowlandson. A certain amount of care is bestowed on the execution of this plate. The marvels of the age in which the caricature was published have not, in most cases, become monotonously plentiful in our own day. As set down by the satirist the ten wonders were the discoveries of 'A modest woman of quality; a primitive Bishop; a real maid of five-and-thirty; an exciseman with a conscience; an author with a second suit of clothes (this fictitious person has been represented in a most jubilant fashion); a great man of common sense; a woman who has continued three months a widow; a theatrical hero of modesty and economy; a complete honest attorney;' and, lastly, 'a man of talents, wit, and learning possessed of a thousand a year.'
On the close of the Clarke Scandal, which had fitly served the purpose of the satirist, our caricaturist resumed his series of attacks upon the more memorable 'disturber of the peace of Europe.'
August 28, 1809. The Rising Sun, or a View of the Continent. Published by R. Ackermann.—Buonaparte is surrounded by the Continental Powers; his present occupation is to lull and rock to slumber, in a cradle, the Russian Bear, muzzled with French promises, and tempted with 'Turkey wheat.' The Corsican is figuratively and literally sitting on thorns; the sun of Spain and Portugal is arising on the meridian with threatening import. Sweden has taken the part of watchguard of Freedom, and is raising the cap of liberty; a Swedish huzzar is making a desperate sabre-cut at the too successful general, and sounding a warning note to the betrayed Muscovite: 'Awake, thou sluggard, ere the fatal blow is struck, and thou and thine execrable ally sunk to eternal oblivion.' The Emperor is disturbed by the new light: 'This rising sun has set me upon thorns.' The Dutchman, with a broken sceptre, is sunk in a besotted sleep on a cask of 'genuine hollands,' and leaning the weight of his fat person on his ally, who finds the weight a trifle crushing. Poland is represented as a shadow; the Prussian eagle is trussed; and the King, with straw in his hair, and confined in a strait-waistcoat, is singing mad ditties. Denmark is snuffed out under an extinguisher; but the Austrian Emperor is once more taking heart and advancing to the attack, sabre in hand, with dangerous intentions: 'Tyrant, I defy thee and thy cursed crew!'