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.' John Bull, on his own island shores, has come out in the character of a sportsman; he is pointing his piece at the tiger brought to bay, and is singing nursery rhymes for the general encouragement:-- There was a little man, And he had a little gun, And his bullets were made of lead: D--- me, but we'll manage him amongst us!