April 9, 1811. Boney the Second, or the Little Baboon Created to Devour French Monkeys. Published by T. Tegg.—'Boneyparte,' in his general's uniform, is seated before the fire, making caudle—of French blood—for the infant prince; a row of sovereign-crowns, wrested from the wearers, are ranged on the mantelpiece. Napoleon's heir, the miniature of his sire, with the addition of a monkey's tail, is tearing and clawing at his parent, and is held on a cushion placed outside the Imperial cradle, which is inscribed Devil's Darling. Napoleon is haranguing in his usual grandiose style: 'Rejoice, ye Frenchmen; the fruits of my labour has produced a little image of myself. I shall, for the love I owe your country, instil in my noble offspring the same principles of lying, thieving, treachery, letchery, murder, and all other foul deeds, for which I am now worshipped and adored!' The Pope is kneeling by his side, and pronouncing by way of a benediction over the infant:—
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sight;
The night-crow cry'd, foreboding luckless time;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees;
The raven rock'd her on the chimney-top,
And chattering pies in dismal discord sung.
April 10, 1811. A Picture of Misery. Published by T. Tegg (70).—The bare and chilling chamber is occupied by a leaden-hued and sordid-looking miser, opposite to whom is seated an individual of starved aspect; a pinched and shrivelled old beldame is seen at the door. A table of interest is the only literature the room can boast. The miser is crouching before the grate, and snuffing out the single candle for economy. Above the usurer hangs his own portrait; he is painted congenially occupied in weighing guineas; a list of securities, 'Stock Ex., Bank Stock, 3 per Cents., Imperial, Omnium, South Sea, Exchequer, Lottery,' &c., recalls sweet reflections. Below are the lines:—
Iron was his chest, iron was his door;
His hand was iron, and his heart was more.
April 12, 1811. Puss in Boots, or General Junot taken by Surprise. Rowlandson del. Published by T. Tegg (71).—A dashing young damsel has secured the jack-boots, cocked-hat, and long sword of General Junot, and is assuming valiant airs, dressed in these borrowed plumes, and threatening the French commander—who is helpless and in bed—with his own weapons.
April 14, 1811. Nursing the Spawn of a Tyrant, or Frenchmen Sick of the Breed. Published by T. Tegg.—The Empress of the French is in consternation at the precocious fury of her progeny, who, with an orb in one hand and a dagger in the other, is threatening destruction around; while the Emperor is listening behind a curtain; the pope and other Roman-Catholic hierarchs are offering 'composing draughts,' and suggesting to send the infantine monster to his supposed diabolical 'grandpapa' as quickly as possible. The Empress is thus proclaiming the terrors of her situation: 'There's no condition sure so curst as mine! Day and night to dandle such a dragon—the little angry cur snarls while it feeds; see how the blood is settled in his scarecrow face; what brutal mischief sits upon his brow. Rage and vengeance sparkle in his cheeks; the very spawn and spit of its tyrant father. Nay, now I look again, he is the very picture of his grandfather, the Devil!'
April 20, 1811. The Enraged Son of Mars and the Timid Tonsor. Published by T. Tegg (67).—The picture represents the interior of a barber's shop, a favourite subject with the caricaturists. A stout customer is expressing slaughterous intentions; a choleric old boy, probably an officer of the Militia, with the shaving-cloth round his short neck, is vowing vengeance on the head of the frightened barber, who has been so maladroit as to carve a tolerable gash in the veteran's round cheek. The tonsor's wife, who is also engaged in the business, is, while holding the soap-bowl and lather, thrown into consternation at the uproar raised by the damaged client. An assistant, who is employed in cutting the hair of another customer, is equally distracted, and, in his trepidation, is threatening the ears of his unconscious subject. The barber's monkey—for barbers have in all time enjoyed the credit of being fanciers of live stock—is lathering his head at a toilette-table, in imitation of the actions of a venerable personage who has just had his head shaved. Various blocks, with their attendant wigs, are ranged round the shelves of the shop, telling of the day when a gentleman's head of hair was sent out to be dressed, while he kept a change of wigs for convenience-sake; here we find parsons' blocks, clerks' blocks, doctors' blocks, lawyers' blocks, and other professional 'caxons,' the heads of the learned being distinguished by their respective wigs. Various sketches appear on the walls, the subjects being selected with a view to their trade appositeness. One picture represents the fate of Absalom, delivered to destruction by his luxuriant locks: 'O Absalom, my son, my son! hadst thou wore a wig this ne'er had happened,' &c., &c.
April 24, 1811. Rural Sports. Cat in a Bowl. No. 1.—The pastimes of our forefathers, before the establishment of Humane Societies for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, were too frequently of a barbarous description, and the cruelties then tolerated for mere sport were undoubtedly most reprehensible. The caricaturist has contrived to surround these wanton displays with an air of hilarity, and the spectacle of a 'cat in a bowl,' apart from the brutality of the fun, is not without its whimsical attractions. A favourite cat, the property of a distracted spinster, has been launched upon the water in a bowl, which is shown spinning round with the current, to the terror of the involuntary voyager, whose dread of immersion combined with her exertions to escape from this embarrassing situation, which threatens to capsize the treacherous craft at every turn, seem to afford the frivolous audience unqualified amusement. A lad is seated on the bank, with a girl by his side—probably the authors of the mischief—holding a barking dog, ready to attack the frightened creature if she comes too near the shore. Parties taking the air in chaises, and promenaders, the loiterers from the alehouse, pipe in hand, and various rustic groups gathered round the brink, are intensely diverted at the scene. Not so the owner of the cat; the horrified old maid, rendered desperate by the precarious situation of her pet, is pulling up her skirts and plunging forward in a vain endeavour to reach the slippery bowl, which is out of her reach; while a second old lady is doing her best to assist her friend. A little further down the bank the artist has introduced another reckless episode; a pair of horses are running away with a tandem, which is being overturned, and the driver and a stout female by his side are just on the point of being tumbled out without ceremony.
May 1, 1811. [A Dog Fight.]—There is a note on the proof impression of this plate in the writer's collection, to the effect that the print was never published. The spectacle represented is remarkably animated; the various incidents of the brutal exhibition are seized with a masterly hand; the enthusiasm and excitement of the audience are done full justice to. Drinking, betting, squabbling, an irregular scrimmage, picking of pockets, and similar humours are treated with due appreciation. The backers of the losing dog are thrown into dismay, as their faces sufficiently indicate; while the satisfaction which fills the supporters of the winning side is well expressed. The spirit of the picture is much increased by the introduction of numerous dogs, ferocious-looking 'varmints,' struggling to join the fray, and only held back from the stage of conflict by the most desperate exertions on the part of their owners; these combatively-minded animals are probably the heroes of coming tournays. The scene of this cruel sport, since made unlawful, is probably the 'Westminster pit,' [23] where such spectacles were constantly held, and attended by persons of rank and fashion, as well as by the dregs of the sporting and dog-fancying fraternities, whose presence, as shown in the study, is tolerably marked.