1792

Courtesy of the Print Collection, Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University

PADDY BULL'S EXPEDITION

275
Publish'd 16th Jany 1792 by Robt. Sayer & Co., No 53 Fleet Street, London

In the courtyard of an inn, an Irish traveller stands with his walking-stick and cloth sack in one hand pointing to the sky and tells the tale of his travels to London. A stable boy listens intently, a portly man in wig and dark suit laughs. Behind him, stand two inn or bar maids, and a smaller man dressed for riding. Paddy, apparently near the end of the accompanying tale, points to the sun, or perhaps the unset moon.

When I took my departure from Dublin's sweet Town,
And for England own self through the Seas I did plough,
For four long Days I was toss'd up and down,
Like a Quid of chew'd Hay in the Throat of a Cow.
While afraid off the Deck in the Ocean to slip Sir,
I clung like a Cat a first hold for to keep Sir,
Round about the big Post that grows out of the Ship Sir,
O! I never thought more to sing Lango Lee.//
Thus standing Stock still all the while I was moving,
Till Ireland's Coast I saw clean out of sight,
My self the next Day a true Irishman proving,
When leaving the Ship, on the Shore for to light;
As the Board they put out was too narrow to quarter,
The first step I took I was in such a totter,
That I jump'd upon Land to my Neck up in Water,
O'that was no time to sing Llangolee!//
But as sharp Cold and Hunger I never yet know more,
And my Stomach and Bowels did grumble & growl,
I thought the best way to get each in good humour,
Was to take out the Wrinkles of both by my Soule,
So I went to a house where Roast Meat they provide Sir,
With a Whirigig which up the Chimney I spy'd Sir,
And which grinds all their Smoke into Powder beside Sir,
Tis true as I'm now singing Langolee.//
Then I went to the Landlord of all the Stage Coaches,
That set sail for London each Night in the Week;
To whom I obnoxiously made my approaches,
As a Birth aboard one I was come for to seek;
But as for the inside I'd no Cash in my Casket,
Says I With your leave I make bold Sir to ask it.
When the Coach is gone off, pray what Time goes the Basket?
For there I can ride and sing Llangolee//
When making his mouth up--the Basket says he Sir,
Goes after the Coach a full hour or two.
Very well Sir says I that's the Thing then more me Sir
But the Devil a word that he told me was true:
For though one went before and the other behind Sir,
They set off Cheek by Jole at the very same time Sir,
So the same Day at Night I set off by Moonshine Sir.
All alone by myself singing Llangolee.//
O long Life to the Moon for a brave noble Creature,
That serves us with Lamp-light each Night in the dark,
While the Sun only shines in the Day which by Nature,
Wants no Light at all--As you all may remark:
But as for the Moon, by my Soul I'll be bound Sir,
It would save the whole Nation a great many Pounds Sir,
To subscribe for the light him up all the Year round Sir,
Or I'll never sing more about Llangolee.

28.2 x 25 cm.
Lewis Walpole Library (792.1.16.1)

Courtesy of the Print Collection, Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University

TIPPY BOB

276
Publish'd 28th March 1792 by Robt.Sayer & Co. Fleet Street, London

In a cafe that looks out on the dome of St. Paul's, three gentlemen, one an army officer sit in a booth around a pot of coffee. A barmaid looks out from a bar screened off from the customers by a window. In foreground center, a fashionable young beau stands and turns his back to show off his fine dress and cropped hair. He wears an exaggeratedly high-crowned hat, as does one of the seated coffee drinkers, the short waistcoat and cape-collar donned by the young bucks in the early 90's. His low-cut boots and long wheeled spurs, as he says, are more for show than use.

My name's Tippy Bob,
With a watch in each fob,
View me round--on each side & on top,
I am sure I'm the thing!
Nay, I wish I may swing,
If I an't now a nice natty crop!
I'm up to each rig,
Or my hat smoke the gig,
Like candles my locks dangle down!
And look in my rear,
As an Ostrich I'm bare!
But the knowingnest smart in the town!
As I walk thro' the lobby,
The girls cry out "Bobby! Here Bobby!--
My bibidy bob!" Now squeaking!--now bawling!
Then pulling and hawling!
So smirking and pleasing!
So coaxing and teazing!
I can't get them out of my nob!
Observe well my shape,
And the fall of my cape.
It's the thing! It's the thing! dam'me! a'n't it!
And this how round my neck,
Would at least hold a peck!
It may catch some old Duchess too, mayn't it!
Then under the collar,
I've got a large roller,
'Tis like a huge German sausage,
And squeez'd up so tight,
That by this good light,
It goes nearly to stop up the passage!
As I walk through the Lobby &c.
My vest, a foot long,
Nine capes in a throng,
My breeches--my small cloaths I mean,
From my chest to my calf--
Damn the mob!let them laugh,
I dress not by them to be seen!
The strings at my knees,
Like chevaux-de-frize,
My boots to the small of my leg!
My spurs the nonsuch! No Crop can me touch,
For I swear I am home to a peg!
As I walk through the Lobby &c.

Dorothy George relates a different Tippy Bob caricature, Tippy Bob--The Natty Crop (BMC 8237) to a character in the pantomime, "Blue Beard or the Flight of Harlequin," first performed 21 December 1791.

28.8 x 25 cm.
Lewis Walpole Library (954.5.5.15) , Colonial Williamsburg Foundation

Courtesy of the Print Collection, Yale Center for British Art, Yale University

Archery

278 Plate 1
Published by Laurie & Whittle, No. 53 Fleet Street, London

Four officers play on an archery range. Two lounge by the targets. One extracts an arrow from the ground that has fallen short, another draws his bow and points back down the range. A man and woman and another couple in the distance look on. The plate was purchased by Laurie & Whittle with Robert Sayer's stock, originally "Publish'd March 28th 1792, by Robert Sayer & Co."

30.5 x 24.8 cm.
Yale Center for British Art (B1970.3.811)

Courtesy of the Print Collection, Yale Center for British Art, Yale University

Archery

279 Plate 2
Published by Laurie & Whittle, No. 53 Fleet Street, London

The archers now are four young women in feathered hats. One has her bow half drawn and points down the course. A young officer sits holding his dog, highly amused by the female archers. Another woman is further down the range, marking the distance, and a man stands by a target. The plate was purchased by Laurie & Whittle from Sayer, originally "Publish'd May 6th 1792, by Robert Sayer & Co."

32.7 x 24.5 cm.
Yale Center for British Art (B1970.3.812)

Courtesy of the Print Collection, Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University

GO FOR A LOOBY GO

Published July 1792 by S.W. Fores No. 3 Piccadilly

Seen in a park or rural setting a well dressed young woman in a tall hat with ribbons looks askance at a heavy young man with thick features. A looby is an awkward or clownish fellow. The verse records her displeasure:

Sylvia, Sweet, can you love me,
My Mother to it will agree
She would sooner give a Cow
Than I should die for Love of you
Will you be mine or no?//
My Mother she far better off
To give a Cow & lose the Calf
I would not for a Crown
Be wedded to a Clown
Go for a Looby Go

32.3 x 25 cm.
Lewis Walpole Library (colour, 792.7.0.3)

Courtesy of the Print Collection, Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University

THE SAILOR

Pubd July 1792 by S.W. Fores N 3 Piccadilly

A sailor and woman face each other on a city street. He is smartly dressed in uniform. Her clothes are worn, though not unfashionable. She looks astonished as she reads the paper he has just handed her. The subtext notes her poverty, but hints her condition could be worse. The inscription below the text, "Vd Adm of of a Hackney Coach," suggests that he has just stepped from the coach in the background. The text is crudely engraved in prose:

What cheer, what cheer, Nan--what; Storm has thou been in, my Lass? thy rigging seems a little tatterd, and yet thy Bottom is tight & clean. the storm of adversity. Oh an that be all, here is what will set thee to right speedily, my Girl: Pulling a dirty letter from his pocket-- she read it & found it contained an order on her Brother's honor for Ten Pounds.

32.6 x 25.1 cm.
Harry Elkins Widener Collection, Houghton Library of the Harvard College Library(colour, HEW 13.8.3); Lewis Walpole Library (colour, 792.7.0.5)

Courtesy of the Print Collection, Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University

THE WAGGONER

281
London. Publish'd 25th July 1792. By Robt. Sayer & Co. Fleet Street

A farmer in flat hat and a loose sheath pauses with his draft horse and heavily loaded haywain to speak to a gentleman. The gentleman is angry, his white breeches having been splattered with mud by the massive cartwheel. The waggoner grins as he points to the damage. The impression and poem reflects an incident reported in London newspapers at the time.

When I comes to town with a load of hay,
Mean and lowly though I seem,
I knows pretty well how they figures away,
While I whistles and drives my team;
Your natty sparks and flashy dames
How I do love to queer,
I runs my rigs, and patters and gigs,
And plays a hundred comical games
To all that comes near,
Then in a pet, to hear them fret,
A mobbing away they go,
The scoundril deserves to be horsewhipt!
Who, me ma'am! wo Ball wo!
So to mind them I ne'er seem
But whistles, whistles, whistles & drives my team.//
So I seems to be thinking of nothing at all,
And driving as fast as I can,
I pins a queer thing against the wall,
half a monkey, and half a man!
The mob come round to put up his blood,
While he's trembling from top to toe,
My whip it goes spank,
I tips Ball on the flank,
Ball plunges, and paints him all over with mud,
Queers his stocking, and spoils the beau;
Then the sweet pretty dear,
Ah! could you but hear,
Odds curse you, I'll make you know,
You infernal villain!
Lord bless your baby face! I would not hurt
your spindle shanks for the world,
Wo, Ball, wo!
So to mind 'em I ne'er seem & c.//
And so I gets the finest fun,
And frisks that ever you saw,
Of all meets I can queer ev'ry one,
but our gemmen of the law,
Tho' they can scarcely put me down,
Says I, to their courts I am led,
Where their tales of a pig
They hid with a whig,
How many ways in a London town,
They dresses a calf's head;
Then every dunce to hear open at once,
Like mill-clacks their clappers go,
O that's fellow I saw grinning thro'
the horse collar in the country,
I fancy you're the fellow I saw grinning
thro' the pillory in London.
Wo Ball, wo!
So to mind 'em I ne'er seem & c.

28.5 x 25.2 cm.
Lewis Walpole Library (title only, 793.0.6)

Courtesy of the Print Collection, Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University

FAVOURITE CHICKENS Going to MARKET

Publishd July 26, 1792 by S.W. Fores, No 3 Piccadilly

A small girl, holding a chicken in her arms, looks up plaintively at her mother as they walk along, the mother carrying two chickens by their legs in her left hand and a basket with more chickens in the right. Another woman can be seen behind them.

30.6 x 25.5 cm.
Lewis Walpole Library (colour, 792.7.26.1)

Courtesy of the Print Collection, New York Public Library

THE OLD MANS WISH

Pubd July 26th 1792 by S.W. Fores No. 3 Piccadilly

A cheery old gentleman seated left at a table raises his wine glass in the toast inscribed below:

If I Live to grow Old for I find I go Down
Let this be my Fate in a Country Town//
May I have a warm House wth a Stone at ye Gate
And a Cleanly young Girl to Rub my Bald pate.

The table before is decked for a feast with utensils, plates of food, pitcher, decanter, and wine glass. Seated across the table a young man turns from the table toward a lovely young woman who he holds with his right arm around her waist. She rests her hand on his head and fondly strokes his forehead with her finger, in effect rubbing the young man's pate. Paintings adorn the wall, including the profile portrait of an older man and a saddled and harnessed riding horse.

32 x 25 cm.
New York Public Library (MEZYRK), Lewis Walpole Library (792.7.26.2), Colonial Williamsburg Foundation(colour)

Courtesy of the Print Collection, New York Public Library

THE DOUBLE DISASTER, or INCONVENIENCE of UMBRELLAS

Published 20th Decr 1792 by Robt. Sayer & Co., Fleet Street, London.

A gentleman passing two ladies on the street turns as his umbrella gets caught up and finds it has lifted the hat off one of the ladies. She looks annoyed as she reaches to retreive her hat. While she is distracted a small boy reaches from behind to seize her watch chain. To the far right a woman tending a chemist's stall looks up at the hat.

32 x 25 cm.
New York Public Library (MEZYRK BM8237A)