On a pedestal in the centre of the print is a statue of the present King in his coronation robes, inscribed "A Ramsay delt;" his right hand is placed on his side, and the left leans upon a plummet, which seems to have been Mr. Ramsay's guide in the delineation; for the drapery is in squares, decided as the ground glass stopper of a decanter, and the whole figure is composed of straight lines. Of these upright figures Hogarth had given his opinion in the Analysis;[146] and Mr. Ramsay being portrait-painter to his Majesty, a post Hogarth thought himself better qualified to fill, he took this opportunity of throwing his manner into ridicule.[147] The head of a lion in bas relief with a leaden pipe in his mouth,[148] being on the front of the pedestal, intimates its connection with a reservoir; and the royal statue on the top denotes this to be the fountain of honour. The able-bodied figure turning a fire-plug is evidently intended for Lord Bute; his employment seems to intimate that he has the power of accelerating or retarding the stream of royal bounty, and wheresoever he willeth it shall flow, there it floweth. A baronial escutcheon, keys, stars, coronets, croziers, mitres, maces, lie close to the pedestal, around which are placed a number of garden pots with shrubs. Two rose trees most plentifully sprinkled by streams from the fountain of favour have been originally inscribed "James III.;" but James being now blotted out, George is put above it, and by a little hyphen beneath the lowest figure, marked as belonging to the lowest line. Three orange trees have the initials "G. R.," and beneath the letters is inscribed "Republican." These also receive drops of favour; but a large laurel planted in a capacious vase, raised upon the base of a pillar, and inscribed "Culloden," is watered by the dew of heaven,—by a copious shower poured from the urn of Aquarius. Besides these six flourishing plants, there are a number of yew and box trees, clipped into true taste by a Dutch gardener. Some of them retain their old situations, but an active labourer is busily clearing the grounds of all these ancient formalities. Many of them he has already wheeled out of their places, and thrown into the ditch that surrounds the platform, into which situation he is now tumbling two venerable box trees of a most orderly and regular cut: each of them having the letters G. R., may apply to the favourites either of George the First or Second. This I suppose is meant to express, by an allegorical figure, the great number of old place-men who resigned on the accession of his present Majesty.
The late Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland, being at that time a leading character in the House of Commons, and deemed the partisan of Lord Bute, is here represented as removing these antiquated plants from the vivifying hothouse of royalty to the cold and dank ditch of despair. Hogarth, not thinking a sable countenance and ebon eyebrows would sufficiently indicate the person meant, has given the outline of a fox's head to his cap. In his reforming business he is somewhat impeded by a garden roller, on which is written "£1,000,000,000," meaning possibly the national debt. On the platform lies a broom, shovel, and rake, necessary implements in clearing gardens; and in the surrounding fosse such a collection of fantastic nevergreens, as decked the pleasure-grounds of our ancient sovereigns, "trimm'd with nice art," and cut into the shapes of pyramids, fortifications, globes, and birds. On one of them, clipped into the form of a human head, is a mask, well expressing the taste of our ancestors.
It is observable that Lord Bute and Mr. Henry Fox are the only persons on the platform: one of these gentlemen was, I believe, supposed to have the highest confidence of his sovereign; and the other, a most powerful influence over the people's representatives.
A group in the dexter corner is principally made up of members of the Upper House. A senatorial figure in the chair under the king's arms is intended for Sir John Cust, then Speaker. That beneath him, wiping his forehead, evidently from perturbation of mind, for William Duke of Cumberland. Below him is Lord Mansfield, and still lower Lord Temple, presenting his snuff-box to his Grace of Newcastle, who had a short time before joined the opposition. We also recognise Earl Winchelsea, and George Doddington, afterwards Lord Melcombe.
Who are intended to be hinted at by a number of persons asleep, I do not know: it, however, proves that there were at that period men who were not to be kept awake by the most important interests of their country. Had this print borne relation to the orators of 1790 instead of the speakers of 1762, there would have been no cause for astonishment. Considering the hour at which our present race of senators meet to do business, and that one oration frequently lasts from the twilight of evening to the crowing of the cock, could it excite wonder if half the assembly were under the dominion of Somnus before what one of our fashionable prints so familiarly calls the peroration?
On the other side of a rail, intended, I believe, to divide the Commons from the Lords, are a number of figures firing at the emblem of Peace, which is fluttering in the air near the signs of the zodiac. Mr. Pitt we are enabled to identify, not only by his features, but by his gouty legs. His gun has much the longest barrel, and while he fires it off he prudently turns away his face, fearing a flash in the pan may scorch his eyebrows; or perhaps acting as a waterman, looking one way and rowing another. A figure behind him discharges a blunderbuss; and in the sinister hand of one immediately before him is a horse-pistol. The household artillery of all the band (and from the smoke which is diffused over the centre of the group it appears they are numerous) is directed to the same object. One prudent personage, a little before Mr. Pitt, seems to be in the act of desertion; for though yet seated on the gunpowder bench, he has got his head under the rail, and is half on the other side. This may be pointed at one of that class who go under the denomination of Trimmers, or may intimate that the gentleman is in the way of getting a place or a peerage; but what is his name, or was his future title, I am not enough read in the red book[149] to determine. The next figure resembles Henry Bilson Legge. A hand with an ear-trumpet may perhaps allude to Lord Chesterfield, whose deafness was at this period proverbial. Two figures above him are distinguished, one by a muff, and the other by a pair of spectacles; "to whom related, or by whom begot," baffles my conjecture: the lowest figure has a resemblance to the first Lord Holland, but he is exhibited on the platform. A dog immediately behind Lord Bute, having his eye fixed on the urn of Aquarius, I suppose to be barking at the shower which pours on the laurel inscribed "Culloden." He is a Caledonian cur, and on his collar is written the word "Mercy," allusive, perhaps, to the cruelties said to have been exercised in Scotland in 1745, which accounts for the natives of that country thinking the Duke had more liberal rewards and more distinguished honours than he fairly merited.
Thus much must suffice for the dignified personages who then drove the state machine: to regret that I cannot point out more of the characters would be useless. I am not deeply studied in the political history of that day; to those who are, must be delegated the task of more particular explanation.
The two most distinguished persons in the opposite group are exalted to the pillory. Over a figure of Fanny the Phantom, who is dressed in a white sheet, the engraver has written "Conspiracy." In one hand she holds a small hammer, and in the other a lighted taper, with which she sets fire to a North Briton that is fastened on the breast of Esquire Wilkes, above whose head is written "Defamation." The patriot is depicted with a most rueful countenance and empty pockets. On the steps below are such a company as we generally see assembled on these great occasions. Two Highlanders, one of whom is grasping a purse, and with most significant grin pointing to the profane cheeld who had dared to abuse his clan, and reprinted Howell's Description of Scotland:[150] by his belt and lapels he appears to be military, and is perhaps meant for Colonel Martin. Close to him is a Liliputian chimney-sweeper, and a fellow blowing a cow's horn with force that gives a Boreas-like distension to his cheeks.[151] This resounding clangour is softened by the cheering notes of the sweet-sounding violin, while the growling bagpipe gives a thorough bass to the whole. Still further to keep up the spirits of the company, a woman is retailing gin from a keg inscribed with the two initials "J. W.," and a schoolboy amusing himself, à la Teniers, with Mr. Wilkes' shoes. To complete his degradation, the Bishop's Abigail so skilfully trundles her well-soaked mop, that he enjoys the full benefit of her mud-coloured drops.
The group behind is partly made up of British sailors and soldiers, each of whom exhibit a most melancholy spectacle of the fortune of war. One lion-hearted veteran, having had both legs and arms lopped off in the service of his country, has his oak-like trunk borne to the borders of the platform upon a porter's knot,[152] where, with three other disabled warriors, he waits in the hope of catching a few drops from the fountain of honour; but alas! the stream which ascends from a fire-plug behind the gate falls on the heads of a mob who are in the background. Some of these may possibly be cripples, for a crutch as well as several bludgeons is flourished in the air. At a window, over which is painted "Dr. Cant's," and "Man Midwife," a bishop is confirming two adults by the imposition of hands. Whether by this representation the artist intended to hint that this father of the church confirmed them in their political errors, the reader must determine according to his political creed; but thus far we may venture to decide, Doctor Thomas Seeker, then Archbishop of Canterbury, was the person intended to be delineated. At the rooms where the Society for Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce then met, a number of persons, by the help of a crane, are dragging up a large silver palette, on which is written "Premium." The man instructing the workmen is, I believe, intended for Mr. Peter Templeman, then Secretary to the Society; as one of the figures in the first floor is probably Lord Romney, then their President.