DOCTOR GALLIPOT.
November 1, 1808. [Doctor Gallipot] placing his Fortune at the feet of his Mistress. Published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street.
Throw physic to the dogs.
Doctor Gallipot, a brandy-faced empiric, who is dressed in the height of the 'Frenchified' fashion, the better to support his quackeries, is laying the implements of his profession, as his fortune, at the feet of a slightly theatrical looking lady, whose figure is delineated with Rowlandson's accustomed grace and spirit.
November 1, 1808. Rum Characters in a Shrubbery. Published by Reeve and Jones, 7 Vere Street.—Four demireps, of dissipated appearance and varied characteristics, are regaling themselves on Booth's gin at a public bar or Rum Shrubbery.
About 1808. Bartholomew's Fair. Nixon del., Rowlandson sculp.—The fun of the Fair is represented in full swing, and the humours of the scenes displayed on all sides are seized and hit off with the usual felicity of both artists. Judging from the caricature, the abolition of fairs in the City must have been a boon to public order and morality. The noise, disorder, and misrule of the festivity are taking place outside the hospital. Boat-swings are revolving, a few of the swings are getting into difficulties, upsetting, or the bottoms coming out, while some of the swingers find themselves indisposed from the motion. There are wandering sellers of sweets, pastry, and such things as were devoured at fairings, boys with links, for it is late, and dusk; booths for refreshments, where customers are eating hot cakes cooked on the spot. There are drinking stalls where tipplers are taking too much; as is illustrated in the person of a reveller who, finding himself overcome with liquor, has laid down in the gutter to take a little rest, an opportunity not lost sight of by the light-fingered gentry who have come for business; the toper's watch, purse, hat, and other portable property are swiftly transferred. There are booths for dancing, and there are merrymakers who are managing to dance outside; there are revolving wheel-swings and merry-go-rounds; there is a crowd of very miscellaneous merry-making company, and parties of jolly sailors arriving outside coaches. The harmony of the proceedings is varied by several rows; and, in more than one spot, rings are formed for fair fighting, and both men and women are exhibiting their prowess in the boxing line, or exchanging buffets and scratches. The signs and booths of famous showmen, once the splendours of by-gone fairs, are disposed around; among the spectacles which invited those of our forefathers who 'went to see the shows,' we may notice that Rowlandson has introduced Miles' Menagerie, Saunder's Tragic Theatre, Gingle's Grand Medley, Miss Biffin, Polito's Grand Collection, Punch, &c.
ROWLANDSON'S CARICATURES AGAINST BUONAPARTE.
As we have already seen, Rowlandson's pencil and graver were enlisted against the Corsican; it would seem that the artist's anti-Napoleonic proclivities ran strongly from this period until the downfall of the Emperor; or else—which is the more reasonable solution—English prejudices against the man whose almost frantic antagonism to this country is now forgiven, if not well-nigh forgotten, demanded an unlimited supply of pictorial satires to stimulate the national hatred, a state of things which pleased both the publishers and the public, and kept the caricaturist occupied, although it is to be regretted that these somewhat imaginative scenes of horror employed his ready skill to the exclusion of those representations of social manners, and the observances of the world around him, whose eccentricities he might have sketched from the life—scenes drawn from a quaint and picturesque generation of which his earlier career has left us such lively pictures, works which alone render his name worthy of his reputation, and which form in themselves an inexhaustible and valuable legacy to his followers.
July 8, 1808. The Corsican Tiger at Bay. Published by R. Ackermann, 101 Strand.—The mighty disturber of the peace of Europe is figured under the form of a savage tiger, with his natural head, and on which he wears the enormous military cocked hat with its long plume—most indispensable accessories in all the caricaturist's portraits of the great 'little Corsican.' The tiger's claws are rending four 'Royal Greyhounds,' which are quite at the mercy of the ferocious conqueror; but a larger and stronger pack of 'Patriotic Greyhounds' are giving tongue, and a fierce charge is being made by some very determined and mischievous-looking hounds who are rushing up to the attack. The Dutch Frog, isolated on his own little mudheap, is promising to join the fray: 'It will be my turn to have a slap at him next.' The Russian Bear and the Austrian Eagle, are kept in secure bondage by heavy fetters, but the triple-headed bird of prey is looking forward to a fresh onslaught, and prompting his fellow-captive: 'Now Brother Bruin, is the time to break our chains.'