No. 229. Grandfather George.
At the period of the regency bill in 1789, Gillray attacked Pitt’s policy in that affair with great severity. In a caricature published on the 3rd of January, he drew the premier in the character of an over-gorged vulture, with one claw fixed firmly on the crown and sceptre, and with the other seizing upon the prince’s coronet, from which he is plucking the feathers. Among other good caricatures on this occasion, perhaps the finest is a parody on Fuseli’s picture of “The Weird Sisters,” in which Dundas, Pitt, and Thurlow, as the sisters, are contemplating the moon, the bright side of whose disc represents the face of the queen, and the other that of the king, overcast with mental darkness. Gillray took a strongly hostile view of the French revolution, and produced an immense number of caricatures against the French and their rulers, and their friends, or supposed friends, in this country, during the period extending from 1790 to the earlier years of the present century. Through all the changes of ministry or policy, he seems to have fixed himself strongly on individuals, and he seldom ceased to caricature the person who had once provoked his attacks. So it was with the lord chancellor Thurlow, who became the butt of savage satire in some of his prints which appeared in 1792, at the time when Pitt forced him to resign the chancellorship. Among these is one of the boldest caricatures which he ever executed. It is a parody, fine almost to sublimity, on a well-known scene in Milton, and is entitled, “Sin, Death, and the Devil.” The queen, as Sin, rushes to separate the two combatants, Death (in the semblance of Pitt) and Satan (in that of Thurlow). During the latter part of the century Gillray caricatured all parties in turn, whether ministerial or opposition, with indiscriminate vigour; but his hostility towards the party of Fox, whom he persisted in regarding, or at least in representing, as unpatriotic revolutionists, was certainly greatest. In 1803 he worked energetically against the Addington ministry; and in 1806 he caricatured that which was known by the title of “All the Talents;” but during this later period of his life his labours were more especially aimed at keeping up the spirit of his countrymen against the threats and designs of our foreign enemies. It was, in fact, the caricature which at that time met with the greatest encouragement.
In his own person, Gillray had lived a life of great irregularity, and as he grew older, his habits of dissipation and intemperance increased, and gradually broke down his intellect. Towards the year 1811 he ceased producing any original works; the last plate he executed was a drawing of Bunbury’s, entitled “A Barber’s Shop in Assize Time,” which is supposed to have been finished in the January of that year. Soon afterwards his mind sank into idiotcy, from which it never recovered. James Gillray died in 1815, and was buried in St. James’s churchyard, Piccadilly, near the rectory house.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
GILLRAY’S CARICATURES ON SOCIAL LIFE.—THOMAS ROWLANDSON.—HIS EARLY LIFE.—HE BECOMES A CARICATURIST.—HIS STYLE AND WORKS.—HIS DRAWINGS.—THE CRUIKSHANKS.
Gillray was, beyond all others, the great political caricaturist of his age. His works form a complete history of the greater and more important portion of the reign of George III. He appears to have had less taste for general caricature, and his caricatures on social life are less numerous, and with a few exceptions less important, than those which were called forth by political events. The exceptions are chiefly satires on individual characters, which are marked by the same bold style which is displayed in his political attacks. Some of his caricatures on the extravagant costume of the time, and on its more prominent vices, such as the rage for gambling, are also fine, but his social sketches generally are much inferior to his other works.
This, however, was not the case with his contemporary, Thomas Rowlandson, who doubtlessly stands second to Gillray, and may, in some respects, be considered his equal. Rowlandson was born in the Old Jewry in London, the year before that of the birth of Gillray, in the July of 1756. His father was a city merchant, who had the means to give him a good education, but embarking rashly in some unsuccessful speculations, he fell into reduced circumstances, and the son had to depend upon the liberality of a relative. His uncle, Thomas Rowlandson, after whom probably he was named, had married a French lady, a Mademoiselle Chatelier, who was now a widow, residing in Paris, with what would be considered in that capital a handsome fortune, and she appears to have been attached to her English nephew, and supplied him rather freely with money. Young Rowlandson had shown at an early age great talent for drawing, with an especial turn for satire. As a schoolboy, he covered the margins of his books with caricatures upon his master and upon his fellow-scholars, and at the age of sixteen he was admitted a student in the Royal Academy in London, then in its infancy. But he did not profit immediately by this admission, for his aunt invited him to Paris, where he began and followed his studies in art with great success, and was remarked for the skill with which he drew the human body. His studies from nature, while in Paris, are said to have been remarkably fine. Nor did his taste for satirical design fail him, for it was one of his greatest amusements to caricature the numerous individuals, and groups of individuals, who must in that age have presented objects of ridicule to a lively Englishman. During this time his aunt died, leaving him all her property, consisting of about £7,000 in money, and a considerable amount in plate and other objects. The sudden possession of so much money proved a misfortune to young Rowlandson. He appears to have had an early love for gaiety, and he now yielded to all the temptations to vice held out by the French metropolis, and especially to an uncontrollable passion for gambling, through which he soon dissipated his fortune.
Before this, however, had been effected, Rowlandson, after having resided in Paris about two years, returned to London, and continued his studies in the Royal Academy. But he appears for some years to have given himself up entirely to his dissipated habits, and to have worked only at intervals, when he was driven to it by the want of money. We are told by one who was intimate with him, that, when reduced to this condition, he used to exclaim, holding up his pencil, “I have been playing the fool, but here is my resource!” and he would then produce—with extraordinary rapidity—caricatures enough to supply his momentary wants. Most of Rowlandson’s earlier productions were published anonymously, but here and there, among large collections, we meet with a print, which, by companion of the style with that of his earliest known works, we can hardly hesitate in ascribing to him; and from these it would appear that he had begun with political caricature, because, perhaps, at that period of great agitation, it was most called for, and, therefore, most profitable. Three of the earliest of the political caricatures thus ascribed to Rowlandson belong to the year 1784, when he was twenty-eight years of age, and relate to the dissolution of parliament in that year, the result of which was the establishment of William Pitt in power. The first, published on the 11th of March, is entitled “The Champion of the People.” Fox is represented under this title, armed with the sword of Justice and the shield of Truth, combating the many-headed hydra, its mouths respectively breathing forth “Tyranny,” “Assumed Prerogative,” “Despotism,” “Oppression,” “Secret Influence,” “Scotch Politics,” “Duplicity,” and “Corruption.” Some of these heads are already cut off. The Dutchman, Frenchman, and other foreign enemies are seen in the background, dancing round the standard of “Sedition.” Fox is supported by numerous bodies of English and Irishmen, the English shouting, “While he protects us, we will support him.” The Irish, “He gave us a free trade and all we asked; he shall have our firm support.” Natives of India, in allusion to his unsuccessful India Bill, kneel by his side and pray for his success. The second of these caricatures was published on the 26th of March, and is entitled “The State Auction.” Pitt is the auctioneer, and is represented as knocking down with the hammer of “prerogative” all the valuable articles of the constitution. The clerk is his colleague, Henry Dundas, who holds up a weighty lot, entitled, “Lot 1. The Rights of the People.” Pitt calls to him, “Show the lot this way, Harry—a’going, a’going—speak quick, or it’s gone—hold up the lot, ye Dund-ass!” The clerk replies in his Scottish accent, “I can hould it na higher, sir.” The Whig members, under the title of the “chosen representers,” are leaving the auction room in discouragement, with reflections in their mouths, such as, “Adieu to Liberty!” “Despair not!” “Now or never!” While Fox stands firm in the cause, and exclaims—“I am determined to bid with spirit for Lot 1; he shall pay dear for it that outbids me!” Pitt’s Tory supporters are ranged under the auctioneer, and are called the “hereditary virtuosis;” and their leader, who appears to be the lord chancellor, addresses them in the words, “Mind not the nonsensical biddings of those common fellows.” Dundas remarks, “We shall get the supplies by this sale.” The third of these caricatures is dated on the 31st of March, when the elections had commenced, and is entitled, “The Hanoverian Horse and British Lion—a Scene in a new Play, lately acted in Westminster, with distinguished applause. Act 2nd, Scene last.” At the back of the picture stands the vacant throne, with the intimation, “We shall resume our situation here at pleasure, Leo Rex.” In front, the Hanoverian horse, unbridled, and without saddle, neighs “pre-ro-ro-ro-ro-rogative,” and is trampling on the safeguard of the constitution, while it kicks out violently the “faithful commons” (alluding to the recent dissolution of parliament). Pitt, on the back of the horse, cries, “Bravo!—go it again!—I love to ride a mettled steed; send the vagabonds packing!” Fox appears on the other side of the picture, mounted on the British lion, and holding a whip and bridle in his hand. He says to Pitt, “Prithee, Billy, dismount before ye get a fall, and let some abler jockey take your seat;” and the lion observes, indignantly, but with gravity, “If this horse is not tamed, he will soon be absolute king of our forest.”