Rowlandson the Caricaturist; a Selection from His Works. Vol. 2Grego, Joseph
History
Rowlandson the Caricaturist; a Selection from His Works. Vol. 2
Grego, Joseph
English wit and humor, Pictorial; Rowlandson, Thomas, 1756-1827
The events which followed Leipzig are bearing their fruit; the heads of
the Coalition have been called in, and 'Boney' is being subjected to
rigorous treatment; he is seated on a throne constructed of skeletons
and skulls, wrapped round with the Imperial purple, powdered with his
emblems; but the bees are taking flight and forsaking their _protégé_;
Field Marshal Prince Blucher is offering the sufferer, who is sick in
extremity, a huge goblet to be quaffed to the dregs--'Blucher's black
draught.' The crown and sceptre of tyranny and all the 'Corsican's'
conquests, Portugal, Vienna, Poland, Milan, Spain, Rome, Moscow,
Holland, Switzerland, Vienna, Saxony, Florence, Dantzig, &c., have
been disgorged. The figure of Father Time has winged his way to reckon
with the usurper; his hourglass is held aloft, and with a golden
extinguisher Time is about to snuff Boney out. Wellington, the Emperor
Alexander of Russia, the Emperor of Austria, and the Crown Prince are
in attendance to see the last of their troublesome enemy. France is
once more freed, joyful and smiling; the labours of agriculture are
resumed, and three symbolical nymphs are executing a joyful dance
appropriate for the occasion, and supporting the arms of the restored
Bourbons.
_April 25, 1814._ _Nap Dreading his doleful Doom, or his grand entry
into the Isle of Elba._ Published by T. Tegg (328).--The general
has arrived in his island kingdom, according to the satirist; the
ship which conveyed the abdicated monarch is riding in the bay;
Boney's luggage has just been set on the shore by a smaller craft; a
single guard, one of the Mamelukes, is sitting disconsolately by the
diminished effects of his master. The somewhat squalid inhabitants,
Nap's future subjects, are crowding down the rocks with vulgar
curiosity, pressing onwards through a narrow pass leading to the
shore; they seem inclined to ridicule the deserted state of their
distinguished guest, who is plunged into dejection at his prospects.
Woe is me, seeing what I have seen,
And seeing what I see!
A coarse stout female is patting the exile familiarly on the back and
offering him her pipe by way of hospitality: 'Come, cheer up, my little
Nicky; I'll be your Empress!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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