No. 220. Desire.

There was much of Bunbury’s style in that of Woodward, who had a taste for the same broad caricatures upon society, which he executed in a similar spirit. Some of the suites of subjects of this description that he published, such as the series of the “Symptoms of the Shop,” those of “Everybody out of town” and “Everybody in Town,” and the “Specimens of Domestic Phrensy,” are extremely clever and amusing. Woodward’s designs were also not unfrequently engraved by Rowlandson, who, as usual, imprinted his own style upon them. A very good example of this practice is seen in the print of which we give a copy in our cut No. 220. Its title, in the original, is “Desire,” and the passion is exemplified in the case of a hungry schoolboy watching through a window a jolly cook carrying by a tempting plum-pudding. We are told in an inscription underneath: “Various are the ways this passion might be depicted; in this delineation the subjects chosen are simple—a hungry boy and a plum-pudding.” The design of this print is stated to be Woodward’s; but the style is altogether that of Rowlandson, whose name appears on it as the etcher. It was published by R. Ackermann, on the 20th of January, 1800. Woodward is well known by his prolific pencil, but we are so little acquainted with the man himself, that I cannot state the date either of his birth or of his death.

No. 221. Looking a Rock in the Face.

There lived at this time in Edinburgh an engraver of some eminence in his way, but whose name is now nearly forgotten, and, in fact, it does not occur in the last edition of Bryan’s “Dictionary of Engravers.” This name was John Kay, which is found attached to prints, of which about four hundred are known, with dates extending from 1784 to 1817. As an engraver, Kay possessed no great talent, but he had considerable humour, and he excelled in catching and delineating the striking points in the features and gait of the individuals who then moved in Edinburgh Society. In fact, a large proportion of his prints consist of caricature portraits, often several figures on the same plate, which is usually of small dimensions. Among them are many of the professors and other distinguished members of the university of Edinburgh. Thus one, copied in our cut No. 221, represents the eminent old geologist, Dr. James Hutton, rather astonished at the shapes which his favourite rocks have suddenly taken. The original print is dated in 1787, ten years before Dr. Hutton’s death. The idea of giving faces to rocks was not new in the time of John Kay, and it has been frequently repeated. Some of these caricature portraits are clever and amusing, and they are at times very satirical. Kay appears to have rarely ventured on caricature of any other description, but there is one rare plate by him, entitled “The Craft in Danger,” which is stated in a few words pencilled on the copy I have before me, to have been aimed at a cabal for proposing Dr. Barclay for a professorship in the university of Edinburgh. It displays no great talent, and is, in fact, now not very intelligible. The figures introduced in it are evidently intended for rather caricatured portraits of members of the university engaged in the cabal, and are in the style of Kay’s other portraits.[105]


CHAPTER XXVII.

GILLRAY.—HIS FIRST ATTEMPTS.—HIS CARICATURES BEGIN WITH THE SHELBURNE MINISTRY.—IMPEACHMENT OF WARREN HASTINGS.—CARICATURES ON THE KING; “NEW WAY TO PAY THE NATIONAL DEBT.”—ALLEGED REASON FOR GILLRAY’S HOSTILITY TO THE KING.—THE KING AND THE APPLE-DUMPLINGS.—GILLRAY’S LATER LABOURS.—HIS IDIOTCY AND DEATH.

In the year 1757 was born the greatest of English caricaturists, and perhaps of all caricaturists of modern times whose works are known—James Gillray. His father, who was named like himself, James, was a Scotchman, a native of Lanark, and a soldier, and, having lost one arm at the battle of Fontenoy, became an out-pensioner of Chelsea Hospital. He obtained also the appointment of sexton at the Moravian burial-ground at Chelsea, which he held forty years, and it was at Chelsea that James Gillray the younger was born. The latter, having no doubt shown signs of artistic talent, was put apprentice to letter-engraving; but after a time, becoming disgusted with this employment, he ran away, and joined a party of strolling players, and in their company passed through many adventures, and underwent many hardships. He returned, however to London, and received some encouragement as a promising artist, and obtained admission as a student in the Royal Academy—the then young institution to which Hogarth had been opposed. Gillray soon became known as a designer and engraver, and worked in these capacities for the publishers. Among his earlier productions, two illustrations of Goldsmith’s “Deserted Village” are spoken of with praise, as displaying a remarkable freedom of effect. For a long time after Gillray became known as a caricaturist he continued to engrave the designs of other artists. The earliest known caricature which can be ascribed to him with any certainty, is the plate entitled “Paddy on Horseback,” and dated in 1779, when he was twenty-two years of age. The “horse” on which Paddy rides is a bull; he is seated with his face turned to the tail. The subject of satire is supposed to be the character then enjoyed by the Irish as fortune-hunters. The point, however, is not very apparent, and indeed Gillray’s earliest caricatures are tame, although it is remarkable how rapidly he improved, and how soon he arrived at excellence. Two caricatures, published in June and July, 1782, on the occasion of admiral Rodney’s victory, are looked upon as marking his first decided appearance in politics.