From this time there was no falling off in the supply of caricatures, which, on the contrary, seemed to increase every year, until the activity of the pictorial satirists was roused anew by the hostilities with France in 1755, and the ministerial intrigues of the two following years. The war, accepted by the English government reluctantly, and ill prepared for, was the subject of much discontent, although at first hopes were given of great success. One of the caricatures, published in the middle of these early hopes, at a time when an English fleet lay before Louisbourg, in Canada, is entitled, “British Resentment, or the French fairly coop’d at Louisbourg,” and came from the pencil of the French artist Boitard. One of its groups, representing the courageous English sailor and the despairing Frenchman, is given in our cut No. 196, and may serve as an example of Boitard’s style of drawing. It became now the fashion to print political caricatures, in a diminished form, on cards, and seventy-five of these were formed into a small volume, under the title of “A Political and Satirical History of the years 1756 and 1757. In a series of seventy-five humorous and entertaining Prints, containing all the most remarkable Transactions, Characters, and Caricaturas of those two memorable years.... London: printed for E. Morris, near St. Paul’s.” The imprints of the plates, which bear the dates of their several publications, inform us that they came from the well-known shop of “Darly and Edwards, at the Acorn, facing Hungerford, Strand.” These caricatures begin with our foreign relations, and express the belief that the ministers were sacrificing English interests to French influence. In one of them (our cut No. 197), entitled, “England made odious, or the French Dressers,” the minister, Newcastle, in the garb of a woman, and his colleague, Fox, have dressed Britannia in a new French robe, which does not fit her. She exclaims, “Let me have my own cloathes. I cannot stir my arms in these; besides, everybody laughs at me.” Newcastle replies, rather imperiously, “Hussy, be quiet, you have no need to stir your arms—why, sure! what’s here to do?” While Fox, in a more insinuating tone, offers her a fleur-de-lis, and says, “Here, madam, stick this in your bosom, next your heart.” The two pictures which adorn the walls of the room represent an axe and a halter; and underneath we read the lines,—
And shall the substitutes of power
Our genius thus bedeck?
Let them remember there’s an hour
Of quittance—then, ware neck.
In another print of this series, this last idea is illustrated more fully. It is aimed at the ministers, who were believed to be enriching themselves at the expense of the nation, and is entitled, “The Devil turned Bird-catcher.” On one side, while Fox is greedily scrambling for the gold, the fiend has caught him in a halter suspended to the gallows; on the other side another demon is letting down the fatal axe on Newcastle, who is similarly employed. The latter (see our cut No. 198) is described as a “Noddy catching at the bait, while the bird-catcher lets drop an axe.” This implement of execution is a perfect picture of a guillotine, long before it was so notoriously in use in France.
No. 199. British Idolatry.
The third example of these caricatures which I shall quote is entitled “The Idol,” and has for its subject the extravagancies and personal jealousies connected with the Italian opera. The rivalry between Mingotti and Vanneschi was now making as much noise there as that of Cuzzoni and Faustina some years before. The former acted arbitrarily and capriciously, and could with difficulty be bound to sing a few times during the season for a high salary: it is said, £2,000 for the season. In the caricature to which I allude, this lady appears raised upon a stool, inscribed “£2,000 per annum,” and is receiving the worship of her admirers. Immediately before her an ecclesiastic is seen on his knees, exclaiming, “Unto thee be praise now and for evermore!” In the background a lady appears, holding up her pug-dog, then the fashionable pet, and addressing the opera favourite, “’Tis only pug and you I love.” Other men are on their knees behind the ecclesiastic, all persons of distinction; and last comes a nobleman and his lady, the former holding in his hand an order for £2,000, his subscription to the opera, and remarking, “We shall have but twelve songs for all this money.” The lady replies, with an air of contempt, “Well, and enough too, for the paltry trifle.” The idol, in return for all this homage, sings rather contemptuously—
Ra, ru, ra, rot ye,