AGUE AND FEVER.
July 9, 1788. Going to ride St. George; a Pantomime Scene lately performed at Kensington before their Majesties. Published by William Holland, 50 Oxford Street.—This print, with a crowd of others on the same incident, had its rise in an accident: the Prince of Wales, being out driving in a curricle with Mrs. Fitzherbert, by some misadventure was thrown from his vehicle, and his companion shared his fall. In Rowlandson's print the Prince has fallen on his back, and the lady is taking a Phaeton-like flight on to his body. The positions are reversed in the caricatures Gillray and other satirists produced on the subject. George the Third and his Queen, with an escort of Guards, are riding past at the very moment, and they seem greatly interested in the spectacle of their son's downfall.
July 22, 1788. Old Cantwell Canvassing for Lord Janus.—The Westminster Election again created further excitement in 1788, as the old field on which the Whigs had gained their triumph against Court interest. The appointment of Lord Hood, in the beginning of July, to a seat at the Admiralty Board rendered a new election necessary. Hood, as the supporter of Pitt, enjoyed the advantage of the Ministerial assistance; the Opposition, however, contested the seat so efficiently in favour of Lord John Townshend, in the Whig interest, that, in spite of the manœuvres of the Ministry, the Liberal member was returned.
In Rowlandson's print a Methodistical congregation is being harangued by the pastor on the respective qualities of the candidates. Lord Hood, whose countenance is wearing a look of sanctified horror, is accommodated with a seat behind his advocate; and a sailor, with a bludgeon and the union-jack unfurled, is also in the pulpit. Old Cantwell has a work in his hand setting forth representations of Devil Townshend and Saint Hood. The eloquence of the preacher is directed against the failings of his opponents: 'Lord Hood is a saint, my dear brethren, as immaculate as a newborn babe; but as for Lord Townshend, he'll be d——d to all eternity. I shudder when I tell you he loves a pretty girl; the Opposition to a man are all fond of pretty girls! They go about like lions in pursuit of your wives and daughters. Lord Hood's pious Committee will swear to it,' &c.
July 27, 1788. Effects of the Ninth Day's Express from Covent Garden, just arrived at Cheltenham.—The King had retired to Cheltenham, where, according to the artist, he was taking the waters with his family; a postilion has arrived express from London with the latest intelligence concerning the election for Westminster. The 'result of the ninth day's poll—majority for Lord John Townshend, 218,' is too much for his Majesty, who is quite overcome; he has dropped the tumbler from which he was taking the waters, and has fallen into the arms of a page; a peasant, who has been drawing the water for his sovereign, is, in consternation, deluging the royal shoe with a few quarts of the same fluid; Queen Charlotte is horrified, and the pretty Princesses are clasping their hands in consternation. In Court circles it was represented that the Whigs were capable of any atrocity, however deep.
August 1, 1788. The School for Scandal. Published by V. M. Picot, 6 Greek Street, Soho. T. Rowlandson, invt.; V. M. Picot, direxit.—One of the long strips containing subjects arranged in series, which were popular at this period, belonging to the same order as The Bath Minuet and The Progress of a Lie, by H. Bunbury; A Country Dance and A Cotillon, by W. H. Kingsbury; The Installation Supper, as given at the Pantheon, by the Knights of the Bath (on May 26, 1788), by James Gillray; The Prince's Bow, by F. G. Byron; English Slavery, or a Picture of the Times, 1788; Chesterfield Travestied, by Collings, &c., &c.
The School for Scandal consists of seventeen females, of ages varying from a tender maid to an antiquated grandmother; the respective characteristics of the different individuals are hit off with Rowlandson's usual spirit and success; the pretty maidens being extremely flattered, and the traits of less favoured dowagers coming in for grotesque exaggerations. The fair members of this coterie are supposed to be making their several comments, as exclamations, upon a recent elopement, a proceeding not unusual at the time The School for Scandal was given to the public: 'Off! positively off!' 'I'm thunderstruck!' 'Poor creature, I pity her!' 'And with a low-bred fellow!' 'Did you expect anything else?' 'A footman too!' 'Even so!' 'Mind, it's a secret!' 'Not a syllable!' 'Poor as we are, my daughter would not have done so!' 'I! God forbid!' 'Oh! 'tis fashionable life!' 'She vow'd she'd go!' 'So fine a girl! with so good a fortune!' 'I say nothing!' 'An ill-made scoundrel too!' 'He's good enough for her!'
November 25, 1788. Filial Piety. Published by S. W. Fores, 3 Piccadilly.—The King's illness gave serious grounds for apprehension; as his chances of recovery became more precarious the Tories thought fit to insinuate that the Prince and his adherents were awaiting the royal dissolution with ill-concealed satisfaction. In Filial Piety we find the King almost at his last gasp; he is stretched on the bed, from which, it was generally concluded, he would never be able to get up; his hand is raised to his head in token of suffering, and he is turning away his face from a spectacle well calculated to disturb the last moments of a pious and suffering parent. The Prince and his friends have just risen from a drunken bout; their spirits have evidently been well sustained; the Heir Apparent is reeling in, with 'Damme, come along; I'll see if the old fellow's ---- or not?' Georgey Hanger has come dancing in to support his comrade; under his arm is his Knock-me-down Supple-Jack, and he has a bottle held in readiness for emergencies. Sheridan, who became prominent at this period as the Prince's confidential adviser, is capering and huzzaing. A table is knocked over, and the Sacrament is thrown on the ground; a bishop on his knees, who is offering a prayer for the Restoration of Health, is horrified at the scandalous improprieties committed by these boisterous intruders. On the wall is a representation of the Prodigal Son, as appropriate to the occasion.
December 26, 1788. The Prospect before us.—Although the satirists took some pains to point out the aspirations of the Whigs, they did not conceal their sympathies for the position of the Prince, and the necessity of providing for the security of his interests in the future, as threatened by the Regency restrictions. The Prospect before us, at the end of 1788, seemed likely to be shortly realised, until the unexpected recovery of the King put an end to the hopes and intrigues of both parties. The prospect which threatened the hopes of the Prince and his Whig adherents was the practical investment of the sovereign power in the hands of the Queen and Pitt, to the setting aside of the Prince's influence save in name. The crown is divided; one-half is wavering over the head of Pitt, and the other is suspended over the head of the Queen, who is trampling on the coronet and triple plume of the Heir Apparent, 'my son's right.' Queen Charlotte is held by the Minister in leading-strings. Pitt, who had suffered his zeal to outrun his discretion, is understood to have made a statement, in the heat of debate, which his opponents characterised as downright treason; the questionable expression,[30] with some additional colouring, is set down in a written speech which he is displaying in his hand: 'I think myself as much entitled to be Regent as the Prince of Wales.' Pitt, under the shelter of the Queen, is declaring: 'Behind this petticoat battery, with the assistance of Uncle Toby (Duke of Richmond), I shall beat down the legal fortifications of this isle and secure the Treasury at the next general election!' Queen Charlotte is holding a draft of special Taxes, 1789, by Billy's desire. Petticoats, Blue and Buff Cloth; Devonshire-Brown Silk, Portland Stone, Fox Muffs. The bulky form of Madame Schwellenberg, Mistress of the Robes—the German favourite of the Queen and the popular detestation of the rest of the community—is swaggering along to the House of Lords, with the Mace and Purse; she has supplanted Thurlow as Lord Chancellor, and is already dictating the policy her mistress is to follow: 'Take care to secure the jewels; I have hitherto been confined to the wardrobe, but now mean to preside at the Council, and, with Billy's assistance, the name of Schwellenberg shall be trumpeted to the remotest corner of Rag Fair.' The Queen is proclaiming herself a passive agent: 'I know nothing of the matter. I follow Billy's advice!'