In our last chapter we mentioned the estimation in which the witnesses against Caroline of Brunswick were held by her sympathizers and the general public, and Robert’s political views naturally inclined him to take the popular side. Those who saw them before they were housed in Cotton Garden, describe them as swarthy, dirty looking fellows, in scanty ragged jackets and greasy leathern caps; at the bar of the House, however, they looked as respectable as fine clothes and soap and water could make them. To this a caricature of Robert’s, entitled, Preparing the Witnesses—a View in Cotton Garden, refers. Three dirty foreigners are being washed, with no satisfactory result, in a bath labelled, “Waters of Oblivion,” “Non Mi Ricordo,” and “Ministerial Washing Tub.” One of the operators (probably the Attorney-General, Sir Robert Gifford) remarks that “he never had such a dirty job in his life”; seated around are a number of equally dirty foreigners awaiting their turn. On the same theme and in the same year we find The Milan Commission (a very rough affair); The Master Cook and his Black Scullion composing a Royal Hash; and a satire on the alderman, who, in spite of his Carolinian and popular sympathies, figures therein under the familiar title of “Mother Wood.”
The following year gives us All My Eye (a skit upon Hone’s 1821. “Eulogium on the Radical Press”), representing a large eye, within the pupil of which we see a printing press, whereon rests a portrait of Queen Caroline; and also an admirable work, divided into two compartments, bearing respectively the titles of The Morning after Marriage, and Coke upon Albemarle—not Coke upon Littleton.
A somewhat ludicrous affair of honour took place in 1822. In 1822.
Duel between the Dukes of Buckingham and Bedford. consequence of some words used by the Duke of Bedford in reference to the Duke of Buckingham at the Bedfordshire county meeting, a hostile meeting took place in Kensington Gardens between the two noblemen on the 2nd of May. The seconds were Lord Lynedock and Sir Watkin Williams Wynn. Both parties fired together at a distance of twelve paces, but without effect; when the Duke of Buckingham, observing that the Duke of Bedford fired into the air, advanced to his grace, and remarking that for that reason the affair could go no farther, said: “My Lord Duke, you are the last man I wish to quarrel with; but you must be aware that a public man’s life is not worth preserving unless with honour.” The Duke of Bedford replied, that “upon his honour he meant no personal offence to the Duke of Buckingham, nor to impute to him any bad or corrupt motive whatever”; and here this somewhat absurd event terminated. Robert commemorates it in a caricature, entitled, A Shot from Buckingham to Bedford, which cannot be said to be complimentary to either of the principals, one of the walls bearing the inscription in very large letters of “Rubbish may be shot here.” Another admirable caricature of the year is entitled, The Treadmill, or Stage-struck Heroes, Blacklegs, and Cadgers stepping it to the tune of Mill, Mill O! a sort of general satire; card-sharpers, decayed “Corinthians,” and other vagabonds, are undergoing a course of hard labour upon the wheel, which was then a comparatively new invention,[52] their movements being accelerated by a gaoler armed with a heavy whip, who bears some resemblance to, and is probably intended for, the artist himself. A third excellent pictorial satire of the same year bears the title of Pope Mistaken.
The year 1823 is remarkable for the interposition of the French 1823.
French Interposition in Spain. Bourbon king into Spanish politics. The Spanish military, under the influence of Riego and other officers, and encouraged by the discontent of the middle classes, had revolted in 1820 against the despotism of Ferdinand, and succeeded in establishing a constitution, which, in spite of its imperfections, was preferable to the absolute and irresponsible government of the Spanish monarchy. This state of things was peculiarly distasteful to Louis XVIII., on account of the evil example it afforded to his subjects; and, fortified by the sympathy of the “Holy Alliance” (which may be shortly described as a sort of trades union of sovereigns to resist all political changes not originating with themselves), he determined to put it down. In his speech to the chambers on the 28th of January, he announced that, “the infatuation with which the representations made at Madrid had been rejected, left little hope of preserving peace. I have ordered,” he said, “the recall of my minister; one hundred thousand Frenchmen, commanded by a prince of my family [the Duc d’Angoulème]—by him whom my heart delights to call my son—are ready to march, invoking the God of St. Louis, for the sake of preserving the throne of Spain to a descendant of Henry the Fourth, of saving that fine kingdom from its ruin, and of reconciling it with Europe.” The real cause of interposition, however, is indicated a few sentences afterwards: “Let Ferdinand the Seventh be free to give to his people institutions which they cannot hold but from him, and which, by securing their tranquillity, would dissipate the just inquietudes of France, [and] hostilities shall cease from that moment.”
We have neither time, space, nor inclination to relate the events of this invasion; suffice it to say that, owing to the cowardice of the Spaniards, it was a complete “walk over” for the French, who, in five months after they had crossed the Bidassoa, had penetrated to Cadiz, dispersed the Cortes, and restored the despotism of Ferdinand.
| R. Cruikshank fecit.] [A. G.—Published May, 1823. “JOHN BULL FLOURISHING IN A DIGNIFIED ATTITUDE OF STRICT NEUTRALITY!!!!” [Face p. 99. |
The contemplated crusade had aroused a certain amount of sympathy in favour of Spain in England, but it did not go farther than the giving of a splendid entertainment to the Spanish and Portuguese ambassadors at the London Tavern on the 7th of March, under the presidentship of Lord William Bentinck. The truth was that John Bull had not forgotten the ungrateful and cowardly conduct of the Spaniards when we drove the French out of their country in Napoleon’s time; added to which England was saddled with a heavy national debt, which made us still less inclined to intermeddle with the affairs of our neighbours. Robert Cruikshank produced a caricature in reference to our position, called, John Bull Flourishing in an Attitude of Strict Neutrality, wherein he shows us Spain in the act of imploring his assistance, which, however, poor John is in no position to render, seeing that he wants help himself, being placed in the stocks and heavily burdened with the weight of “last war’s taxes.” In the distance appears fat Louis, mounted on a cannon, driven by the Pope, Russia, Austria, and Prussia, in allusion, of course, to the “Holy Alliance” (the three latter powers had recalled their ambassadors from Madrid on the 5th of January), while the devil condescends to lend his assistance by pushing on behind. This caricature is probably the best that Robert ever designed. Another satire on the same subject bears the title of King Gourmand XVIII. and Prince Posterior in a Fright.
One of Robert’s satires of this year, entitled The Golden Football, Hughes Ball. has obvious reference to Hughes Ball, known at Eton by his surname of Hughes only, but who took the further name of Ball on coming into a fortune of forty thousand a year left him by his uncle, Admiral Sir Alexander Ball, and thenceforth received his appropriate nickname of the “Golden Ball.” He was considered a great catch by all the mothers in London; but, notwithstanding his money, was unfortunate in love, being jilted by Lady Jane Paget, rejected by Miss Floyd (afterwards the wife of Sir Robert Peel), and then by Lady Caroline Churchill. The young ladies hearing of his numerous disappointments, were disinclined to encourage a man so proverbially unfortunate. By way, perhaps, of revenge, Hughes Ball this year ran off with and married Mademoiselle Mercandotti, première danseuse at His Majesty’s Theatre, a beautiful girl of sixteen, reported in the scandal of the day to be a natural daughter of the Earl of Fife. The incident of Lady Jane Paget we have mentioned is thus referred to by Charles Molloy Westmacott, the Ishmael of the press of his day, in the English Spy, a work which, as we shall presently see, was also illustrated by the artist:—