_MISCELLANEOUS CARICATURES AND SUBJECTS OF CARICATURE, 1820-1830._
CAROLINE OF BRUNSWICK.
As in 1809 a revengeful and unscrupulous woman had succeeded in exposing
the reputation of a member of the Royal family to public opprobrium, so,
in like manner, in 1820, a woman, and no less a person in this instance
than a titular queen of England, was the means of dragging the crown
itself through the mire of a disreputable scandal. That Caroline of
Brunswick was an uncongenial and unfitting consort; that she was an
utterly unfit and improper person to occupy the exalted position of
Queen of England, there can be no manner of doubt. But to the question
whether it was wise, politic, or dignified to subject her conduct
(however morally criminal) to the reproach of a public investigation,
there can be but one answer.
The marriage of Caroline, daughter of Charles, Duke of
Brunswick-Wolfenbuettel, with George, Prince of Wales, was solemnized on
the 8th of April, 1795. Exactly one year afterwards, and three months
after the birth of their child, the Princess Charlotte, the pair
separated. The separation was effected at the instance of the prince,
and the reasons for his wishing to live apart from her are assigned in a
letter which he sent her Royal Highness through Lord Cholmondeley: "Our
_inclinations_," he told her, "are not in our own power; nor should
either be answerable to the other because nature has not made us
suitable to each other. Tranquil and comfortable society is, however, in
our power; let our intercourse therefore be restricted to _that_."
Sixty years have elapsed since this miserable woman died, and we who are
no longer biassed by the political leanings which more or less
influenced those who regarded her with favour or prejudice, are enabled
to consider the circumstances from a fair and dispassionate point of
view. In order that the reader may form his own conclusions of her
character and disposition, we prefer to quote authorities whose
political sympathies were distinctly favourable to her cause. Writing of
his grandmother, Lady de Clifford (governess of the Princess Charlotte),
Lord Albermarle tells us: "She [Lady de Clifford] used often to recount
to me the events of her court life. The behaviour of the Princess of
Wales (this was before she left England) naturally came under review. I
fear that the judgment she formed of the conduct of this much sinned
against and sinning lady coincides but too closely with the verdict that
public opinion has since passed upon her. To Lady de Clifford she was
the source of constant anxiety and annoyance. Often, when in obedience
to the king's [George III.] commands, my grandmother took her young
charge to the Charlton Villa, the Princess of Wales would behave with a
_levity of manner and language that the presence of her child and her
child's governess were insufficient to restrain_. On more than one
occasion, Lady de Clifford was obliged to threaten her with making such
a representation to the king as would tend to deprive her altogether of
the Princess Charlotte's society. These remonstrances were always taken
in good part, and produced promises of amendment."[23] The Hon. Amelia
Murray tells us in her "Recollections from 1803 to 1837": "There was
about this period an extravagant _furore_ in the cause of the Princess
of Wales. She was considered an ill-treated woman, and that was enough
to arouse popular feeling. My brother was among the young men who helped
to give her an ovation at the opera. A few days afterwards he went to
breakfast at a place near Woolwich. There he saw the princess, in a
gorgeous dress, which was looped up to show her petticoat covered with
stars, with silver wings on her shoulders, sitting under a tree, _with a
pot of porter on her knee_; and as a finale to the gaiety, she had the
doors opened of every room in the house, and selecting a partner, she
galloped through them, desiring all the guests to follow her example! It
may be guessed whether the gentlemen were anxious to clap her at the
opera again." Now this was the personage whom certain classes of the
community persisted in regarding, sixty years ago, as a royal martyr.
Small as is the respect or esteem which we owe to the memory of George
the Fourth, we may almost sympathise with him when he calls such a
consort "uncongenial."
A person so little fitted for the high position which she occupied was
certain to give trouble; and as far back as 1806, her indiscreet conduct
had induced the king [George III.] to grant a commission to Lords
Spencer, Grenville, Erskine, and Ellenborough, to examine into the truth
of certain allegations which had been made against her; and, although
their report expressed the most unqualified opinion that the graver
charges were utterly destitute of foundation, such report, nevertheless,
concluded with some strictures made by the commissioners "on the levity
of manners displayed by the princess on certain occasions."[24] In
consequence of this official report, the intercourse between the
Princess of Wales and her daughter, the Princess Charlotte, was
subjected to regulation and restraint; they were allowed at first a
single weekly interview, which, for some doubtless sufficient reason,
was afterwards reduced to a fortnightly meeting.[25]
While pitying the mother, we seem scarcely justified in assuming, with
our present knowledge of her obstinate nature and disposition, that
these restrictions were imposed without some just and sufficient reason.
It would seem to have come to the knowledge of the Princess Caroline in
1813, that the interdiction was intended "to be still more rigidly
enforced,"[26] for on the 14th of January of that year we find that she
wrote a letter to the Prince Regent, in which she complained that the
separation of mother and daughter was equally injurious to her own
character and to the education of her child. Adverting to the
restricted intercourse between them, she observed that in the eyes of
the world, "this separation of a daughter from her mother would only
admit ... of a construction fatal to the mother's reputation. Your Royal
Highness," she continued, "will pardon me for adding that there is no
less inconsistency than injustice in this treatment. He who dares advise
your Highness to overlook the evidence of my innocence, and disregard
the sentence of complete acquittal which it [_i.e._ the inquiry of 1806]
produced--or is wicked and false enough still to whisper suspicions in
your ear, betrays his duty to you, sir, to your daughter, and to your
people, if he counsels you to permit a day to pass _without a further
investigation of my conduct_.... Let me implore you to reflect on the
situation in which I am placed, without the shadow of a charge against
me, without even an accuser after an inquiry that led to my ample
vindication, yet treated as if I were still more culpable _than the
perjuries of my suborned traducers represented me_, and held up to the
world as a mother who may not enjoy the society of her only child."
No possible objection can be taken to this letter; indeed, by whomsoever
it was penned, taken altogether it was an admirable composition. If,
however, we are to credit the statement of Mr. Whitbread, made in the
House on the 5th of March, 1813, it was thrice returned to the writer
unopened. But the princess, as we shall find, was not a person to be
intimidated by any amount of rebuffs. "At length that letter [we quote
Mr. Whitbread] was read to him [the Prince Regent], and the cold answer
returned was, that ministers had received no commands on the
subject."[27] The letter found its way into the public prints, and then,
and not till then, if we are to believe Mr. Whitbread, his Royal
Highness directed that the whole of the documents, together with her
Royal Highness's communications to himself, should be referred to
certain members of the Privy Council, who were to report to him their
opinion, "whether under all the circumstances ... it was fit and proper
that the intercourse between the Princess of Wales and her daughter ...
should continue to be, subject to regulations and restrictions."[28]
In their report, which was presented on the 19th of February, the
commissioners stated that "they had taken into their most serious
consideration, together with the other papers referred to by His Royal
Highness, all the documents relative to the inquiry instituted in 1806 ...
into the truth of certain representations respecting ... the Princess of
Wales; and, that after full examination of all the documents before them,
they were of opinion, that under all the circumstances of the case, it was
highly fit and proper, with a view to the welfare of ... the Princess
Charlotte ... and the most important interests of the State, that the
intercourse between ... the Princess of Wales and the ... Princess
Charlotte should continue to be subject to regulation and restraint."
It was only natural, of course, that Caroline should rebel; and she
accordingly wrote on the 1st of March a letter to the Speaker,
protesting against the mode in which this second inquiry had been
conducted. Motions on her behalf were afterwards brought forward
successively in the House by Mr. Cockrane Johnson and Mr. Whitbread,
both of which, however, fell to the ground. The remarks made by Mr.
Whitbread provoked a speech in the House of Lords from Lord Ellenborough
(who had been a member of both commissions), which is singularly
illustrative of the habits and manners of the time. After an
introduction of great solemnity, his lordship said, "that, in the case
alluded to, the persons intrusted with the commission [of 1806] were
charged with having fabricated an unauthorised document, purporting to
relate what was not given in evidence, and to suppress what was given.
This accusation," said his lordship, "is as false as h---- in every
particular." He then proceeded to give an account of the mode in which
everything had been taken down from the mouth of the witness, and
afterwards read over to and subscribed by her.[29] He concluded his
peculiarly energetic speech by again denying, in the most positive
terms, the truth of the imputation which had been cast upon the
commissioners.
The inquiry of 1813 set the pencils of the caricaturists in motion, and
among the satires it occasioned, I find a series of eight pictures on
one sheet, representing the witnesses, the commissioners, Mr. Whitbread,
and other persons connected with that and the previous investigation of
1806. It is called _A Key to the Investigation, or Iago Distanced by
Odds_; and the most amusing of the series is the seventh, which
represents the furious Lord Ellenborough, attired in his official robes
of Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench. The following doggerel
clearly identifies it with the speech from which we have already
quoted:--
"This is the Chief J---- who, as the Lords tell,
Swore that the reflections were false!--black as h----!
_And though such bad words no man can use fewer_,
In his rage it was fear'd he would pistol the Brewer[30]
For moving the senate, who all cried, oh fie!
That the Lady and B----[31] had told a d----d lie,
And were unworthy credit the oaths they did try;
And lamented the witness, whose answer when penn'd,
Without questions which drew them, appear'd to portend
More reproach than she meant against her good friend.
While the hireling servants examined by law,
Who thought by a stretch to gain some _eclat_,
While before the commissioners named by the King,
To investigate matters and witnesses bring," etc., etc.
The eighth of the series is "the spring that set all in motion," the
satirist's meaning being indicated by a throne, on which lies a cocked
hat adorned with the Prince of Wales' feathers, and beneath it, as is
usual in a large proportion of the satires which allude to the
prince-regent, a number of empty bottles.
The Regent seems never to have lost an opportunity of insulting his
uncongenial and unfortunate wife. In anticipation of the expected visit
of the allied sovereigns in June, 1814, the prince conveyed an
intimation to his royal mother that, as he considered his presence could
not be dispensed with at her ensuing drawing-rooms, he desired it to be
distinctly understood, "for reasons of which he alone could be the
judge, to be his fixed and unalterable determination not to meet the
Princess of Wales upon any occasion, either in public or private."[32]
Queen Charlotte was bound of course to give an official intimation to
that effect to the Princess Caroline, which, on the 24th and 26th of
May, 1814, brought from her letters to the queen and the Regent. In the
first of these communications she intimated her intention of "making
public the cause of her absence from Court at a time when the duties of
her station would otherwise peculiarly demand her attendance"; while her
letter to her husband contained the following intimation: "Your Royal
Highness may possibly refuse to read this letter; but the world must
know that I have written it, and they will see my real motives for
foregoing in this instance the rights of my rank. Occasions, however,
may arise (one, I trust, is far distant) when I _must_ appear in public,
and your Royal Highness must be present also. Can your Royal Highness
have contemplated the full extent of your declaration? Has your Royal
Highness forgotten the approaching marriage of our daughter [to the
Prince of Orange] and the possibility of our coronation?" These words
show that from the first Caroline had decided, _coute que coute_, when
the time came to assert her position, in spite of the opposition of her
husband and any obstacles which might be raised by his friends and
advisers.
We have entered rather fully into this matter, because it seemed to us
necessary, in order that the reader might understand the temper of
Caroline, and the motives which influenced her in the extraordinary
course of conduct which she afterwards thought fit to pursue. She was
treated, we have seen, with the most cruel and studied insult; excluded
from ceremonials at which her rank and position entitled her to be
present. "Sir," said the unfortunate woman in the letter to her husband
to which we have alluded, "the time you have selected for this
proceeding is calculated to make it peculiarly galling. Many illustrious
strangers are already arrived in England; among others, as I am
informed, the illustrious heir of the house of Orange, who has announced
himself to me as my future son-in-law. From their society I am unjustly
excluded. Others are expected, of rank equal to your own, to rejoice
with your Royal Highness in the peace of Europe. My daughter will for
the first time appear in the splendour and publicity becoming the
approaching nuptials of the presumptive heiress of this empire. This
season your Royal Highness has chosen for treating me with great and
unprovoked indignity; and of all his Majesty's subjects, I alone am
prevented by your Royal Highness from appearing in my place, to partake
of the general joy, and am deprived of the indulgence of those feelings
of pride and affection permitted to every mother but me." Poor mother!
who may help pitying her! Her most prejudiced enemy will admit that this
was an eloquent and noble protest. Had she only maintained this language
and attitude, we should justly assign to her a place amongst the royal
martyrs of history. Naturally this barbarous, impolitic treatment soured
her, as it would sour even the sweetest disposition. In an evil hour for
her, and we may add for this country, she solicited and obtained
permission to travel abroad.
No sooner was she freed from the restraints which had surrounded her at
home, than her conduct not only makes us doubt whether she had any hand
in the composition of this maternal appeal, but appears to justify the
conclusions at which the commissioners of 1806 and 1813 seem to have
arrived. Her temper was obstinate and wilful. She knew that she was
watched; and from a spirit apparently of wanton mischief, designed with
the view doubtless of annoying her enemies, she indulged in a series of
the most extraordinary and undignified vagaries. She took into her
service and received into her closest confidence and favour persons of
the lowest position. It was impossible for rumours of her extraordinary
eccentricities not to reach, not only the ears of those who detested
her, but in an imperfect and incorrect degree those of the general
public. That this was the case is shown by a caricature entitled,
_Paving the way for a Royal Divorce_, published by Johnston on the 1st
of October, 1816, in which we see the corpulent Regent at table with
Lord Liverpool, "Old Bags"[33] (Chancellor Eldon), Lord Chief Justice
Ellenborough, Vansittart, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and another,
probably intended for Viscount Sidmouth. His Royal Highness is made by
the caricaturist to say that he and his sympathizers think "we shall now
succeed, having secured some evidence from the coast of Barbary.... I
have got everything as clear as the sun at noon-day.... Now for a
divorce as soon as possible." Lord Chancellor Eldon says, "I'll stick to
your Highness through thick and thin, or never call me 'Old Bags' again
as long as I live." Lord Liverpool supports him by the assurance, "I'm
an unmatched negotiator, and I'll enter into a treaty with the House of
Commons to secure your suit." The temper of the Commons is shown by the
doubts expressed by the individual we take to be intended for Viscount
Sidmouth. "I have my doubts," says this person, at the same time laying
his hands on the port wine decanter, "I have my doubts and qualms of
conscience, your Highness; what say you, Van?" "Oh, my lord," replies
Vansittart, who is seated on the "Budget," "I have some strange touches
of feeling on the subject." Up rises the hot-tempered Lord Chief
Justice, upsetting a decanter of port wine, and at the same time the
chair on which he has been sitting, "Don't put me in a passion with your
'qualms' and your 'touches'; they are all false, false as h----! I'll
blow you all to the d----l if you don't stick to your master manfully!!"
By the side of the prince we see, as usual, a pailful of wine bottles,
and at his feet, in allusion to his notorious infidelities, an open
volume entitled, "The Secret Memoirs of a Prince, by Humphrey Hedghog,
Esq., 1815." By the side of the Lord Chief Justice lie three portly
volumes labelled, "The Law of Divorce." It will be evident from the
foregoing, that from an early period, the satirists on the popular side
gave credit to the prince and his advisers for being members of a secret
conspiracy for compassing the ruin of the erring and unfortunate woman.
Now what was the "evidence" to which the corpulent Regent is made to
refer in the sketch before us? It was not of course _evidence_, but
rumour; and rumour said the strangest things of the Princess Caroline.
It associated her name with that of a courier,--a low Italian, named
Bartolomeo Bergami; it said that she had enriched and ennobled this man
and other members of his family; procured for him a barony in Sicily;
decorated him with several orders of knighthood; and asserted in the
plainest terms that she was living with him in a state of open and
notorious adultery. These reports rendered it necessary to ascertain on
what foundation they rested, and the result was that in 1818, Mr. Cooke,
of the Chancery Bar, and Mr. Powell, a solicitor, were despatched into
Germany and Italy to collect evidence with respect to her conduct. This
inquiry, which is generally known as the "Milan Commission," seemed
certainly preferable to an investigation of a more public and notorious
character; and upon the evidence these gentlemen obtained was founded
the "Bill of Pains and Penalties," which we shall presently have to
consider.
1820.
It is quite clear that the ministers of 1820 were strongly averse to the
introduction of the "Bill of Pains and Penalties," which is now known to
us as the "Trial of Queen Caroline." The whole odium indeed of the
proceedings rested upon them at the time; but we have no reason to doubt
the statement of Mr. Charles Greville, under date of 20th February,
1820, that they had offered to resign, "because the king would not hear
reason." It seems at any rate tolerably certain that, although they
brought forward the "Bill of Pains and Penalties" under pressure of the
Crown, they did not do so until they had well-nigh exhausted every
effort short of actual resignation (this dignified position they did
_not_ take) to avoid it. Mr. Wade tells us that "their first
indiscretion consisted in commencing hostilities against the queen by
the omission of her name in the liturgy, thereby provoking her claim to
legal rights;"[34] but this omission, which appears to us justifiable
under the circumstances, Mr. Greville shows us was due to the action of
the king himself.[35] In the month of June, 1819, a communication
appears to have been received from Mr. Brougham, the professional
adviser of the princess, and understood to be charged with the
confidential management of her affairs. The proposal contained in this
communication was in substance, that her then income of L35,000 a year
should be secured to her for life, instead of terminating with the
demise of the crown: and that she should undertake upon that arrangement
being made to reside permanently abroad, and not to assume at any time
the rank or title of Queen of England. This proposal, however, being
stated to be made without any authority from the princess, or knowledge
of it on her part, the Government at that time replied that there would
be no indisposition at the proper time to entertain the principle on
which the proposal was grounded, if it met with the approbation of her
Royal Highness on the king's accession. The ministers, reverting to Mr.
Brougham's proposal, offered to raise the already handsome allowance to
L50,000 a year, subject to the conditions before mentioned. Caroline,
however, peremptorily declined the proposal, alleging that it had been
made without her knowledge or sanction. Unfortunately, too, this offer
when made to Caroline herself, was coupled with the intimation that if
the queen should "be so ill-advised as to come over to this country,
there must be _an end to all negotiations and compromise_."[36]
Considering the temper and disposition of the woman, the fact that she
had demanded the insertion of her name in the liturgy, the haughty
assertion of her claim "to be received and acknowledged as the Queen of
England," and the communication made at the same time of her desire that
a royal yacht should be in readiness to receive her at Calais,[37] it
appears to us a greater mistake on the part of the ministry could
scarcely have been made. It aroused her woman's nature, and flaming with
the anger and resentment which she had nourished for so long a course
of years, she boldly took up the gauntlet her enemies had flung at her
feet, and crossed the Channel almost as soon as the astonished
Government messenger himself.
The queen (for she was titular Queen of England now) arrived in London
on the 7th of June: "the road was thronged with an immense multitude the
whole way from Westminster Bridge to Greenwich. Carriages, carts, and
horsemen followed, preceded, and surrounded her coach the whole way. She
was everywhere received with the greatest enthusiasm. Women waved
pocket-handkerchiefs, and men shouted wherever she passed. She travelled
in an open landau, Alderman Wood sitting by her side, and Lady Ann
Hamilton [the Duke of Hamilton's sister] and another woman opposite....
The queen looked exactly as she did before she left England, and seemed
neither dispirited nor dismayed."[38] In one of the popular satires of
the day we see her standing on the balcony of Alderman Wood's house in
South Audley Street, receiving and acknowledging the enthusiastic
plaudits of her admirers. The very day she arrived at Dover, a royal
message was sent down to Parliament, by which the king commended to the
Lords an inquiry into the conduct of the queen; while on the following
day, Mr. Brougham read in the House of Commons a message or manifesto
from his client, declaring that her return was occasioned by the
necessity her enemies had laid upon her of defending her character and
conduct.
THE BILL OF PAINS AND PENALTIES.
Both parties now stood irrevocably committed to the fatal measure. A
secret committee of the House of Lords proceeded to open the celebrated
_green bag_, which contained the reports of the Milan Commission; and on
the 4th of July they made their report, recommending a solemn inquiry
into the conduct of the queen. Next day the Earl of Liverpool presented
a "bill of pains and penalties" entitled, "An Act to deprive Her Majesty
Queen Caroline Amelia Elizabeth of the title, prerogative, rights,
privileges, and exemptions of Queen Consort of this realm, and to
dissolve the marriage between His Majesty and the said Caroline Amelia
Elizabeth" on the ground of the grossly immoral conduct therein alleged
against her.
The ill-advised proceedings once commenced, no time was lost in carrying
them through. On the 7th of July the Italian witnesses in support of the
bill (twelve in number) landed at Dover. The object of their visit soon
became known, and on emerging from the custom house they were set upon
and badly beaten by a furious crowd, composed principally of women. They
were lodged in a building then separating the old houses of Parliament,
which, with its enclosure, was called Cotton Garden; the front faced the
abbey, the rear the Thames. "The land entrance was strongly barricaded.
The side facing Westminster Bridge was shut out from the public by a
wall run up for the express purpose at a right angle to the Parliament
stairs. Thus the only access was by the river. Here was erected a
causeway to low-water mark; a flight of steps led to the interior of the
inclosure. The street was guarded by a strong military force, the water
side by gunboats. An ample supply of provisions was stealthily (for fear
of the mob) introduced into the building; a bevy of royal cooks was sent
to see that the food was of good quality, and to render it as palatable
as their art could make it. About this building, in which the witnesses
were immured from August till November, the London mob would hover like
a cat round the cage of a canary. Such confinement would have been
intolerable to the natives of any other country, but it was quite in
unison with the feelings of Italians. To them it realized their
favourite '_dolce far niente_.' Their only physical exertion appears to
have been the indulgence in that description of dance that the
_Pifferari_ have made familiar to the Londoner."[39] Such was the
residence of the Italian witnesses against the queen, and it is certain
that if they had ventured beyond its precincts they would have been torn
in pieces.
The appearance which Caroline of Brunswick presented at her trial was
an outrageous caricature, and is thus described by one then distinctly
friendly to her cause--the Earl of Albemarle: "The peers rose as the
queen entered, and remained standing until she took her seat in a
crimson and gilt chair immediately in front of her counsel. Her
appearance was anything but prepossessing. She wore a black dress with a
high ruff, an unbecoming gipsy hat with a huge bow in front, the whole
surmounted by a plume of ostrich feathers. _Nature_ had given her light
hair, blue eyes, a fair complexion, and a good-humoured expression of
countenance; but these characteristics were marred by _painted
eyebrows_, and by a _black wig_ with a profusion of curls, which
overshadowed her cheeks and gave a bold, defiant air to her features."
The names of the witnesses, and possibly the precise nature of the
testimony against her, would seem to have been unknown to the queen, for
we have it on record that when the first witness (Teodoro Majoochi, the
celebrated "Non Mi Ricordo") was placed at the bar, on the 21st of
August, Her Majesty, "uttering a loud exclamation, retired hastily from
the House, followed by Lady Ann Hamilton."[40] She evidently laboured
under some strong emotion, whether of surprise or displeasure, or both,
seems never to have been ascertained.
Among the general public, and even in the House of Commons itself, the
falsehood of all that had been alleged on oath against the queen was
assumed as an undeniable axiom; the witnesses were loaded with the most
opprobrious epithets, while those who had been concerned in collecting
or sifting evidence were represented as conspirators or suborners. We
shall see, when we come to speak of the caricatures of Robert
Cruikshank, the light in which these unhappy witnesses were regarded by
the graphic satirists on the popular side.[41] Nevertheless, if their
testimony is carefully read over by any unprejudiced person having any
knowledge of the law of evidence, in spite of the badgering of Mr.
Brougham, the admirable speech of that gentleman, and the testimony of
the witnesses on the other side, I think he cannot fail to come to any
other conclusion than that expressed by the then Lord Ellenborough, that
Her Royal Highness was "the last woman a man of honour would wish his
wife to resemble, or the father of a family would recommend as an
example to his daughters. No man," said his lordship, "could put his
hand on his heart and say that the queen was not wholly unfit to hold
the situation which she holds."[42] He will see too, by reference to the
report of the proceedings in the "Annual Register," that of the peers
who decided to vote against the second reading of the bill on the ground
of _inexpediency_, a large majority gave it as their deliberate opinion
that the case had been proved against the queen.[43] In a very clever
pictorial satire, published by S. Humphrey in 1821, the queen, Bergami,
and a third figure (possibly intended for Alderman Wood) are represented
as standing on a pedestal forming the apex of a slender stem labelled
"Mobility," which rests on a base marked "Adultery." The whole structure
depends for support on a broom (in allusion of course to Mr. Brougham)
and two frail pieces of wood, labelled respectively, "Sham addresses,"
and "Sham processions," which in turn rest on a slender railing, while a
ladder on either side, marked "Brass" and "Wood," lend a further slight
support to the very insecure fabric. The superincumbent weight of the
queen and Bergami breaks the frail stem in pieces, and the three figures
tumble to the ground together. The back of the design is occupied with
scenes and incidents detailed in the evidence. A very clever caricature,
without date (published by T. Sidebotham), I am inclined to assign to
this period; and if so, it is one of the most plain spoken and telling
satires ever published. It is entitled, _City Scavengers Cleansing the
London Streets of Impurities_; a placard which has fallen in the street
sufficiently explains its meaning: "By particular desire of the Society
for the Suppression of Vice, D-- of K--t in the chair, ordered that the
city officers do keep the streets clear of common prostitutes.--Signed,
Wood, Mayor."[44]
A more foolish and undignified proceeding, however, than this "Bill of
Pains and Penalties" can scarcely be conceived. Its fate might almost
have been predicted from the first. The second reading was carried on
the 6th of November, by a majority of twenty-eight, but the third (for
the reasons already given) by a majority of nine only; whereupon, the
Earl of Liverpool said that, "had the third reading been carried by as
considerable a number of peers as the second had been, he and his
colleagues would have felt it their duty to persevere with the bill and
to send it down to the other branch of the legislature. In the present
state of the country, however, ... they had come to the determination
not to proceed further with it."[45] The victory will be acknowledged by
us now-a-days as damaging as a defeat; but the result, curious to
relate, was hailed by the queen and her party as if her innocence had
been triumphantly vindicated. In signing a document prepared by her
counsel on the 8th of November, she wrote, "Carolina Regina," adding the
words, "there, _Regina_ still, in spite of them." The abandonment of the
bill was followed by three nights of illumination; but it was observed
that they were of a very partial character, wholly unlike those which
had greeted the great victories by sea and land, in which the public
sympathy was spontaneous and universal. The mob in some cases testified
its disapproval when these signs of satisfaction were wanting; and one
gentleman in Bond Street, on being repeatedly requested to "light up,"
placed a single rushlight in his two-pair-of-stairs window. Some of the
transparencies were, as might have been expected, of a singular
character. A trunk maker in the same street displayed the following new
reading from Genesis: "And God said, It is not good the King should
reign alone." A publican at the corner of Half Moon Street exhibited a
flag whereon, in reference to the unpopular witness Teodoro Majoochi,
was depicted a gallows with the following inscription:--
"_Q._ What's that for?
_A._ Non Mi Ricordo."
An enthusiastic cheesemonger at the top of Great Queen Street displayed
a transparency on which he had inscribed the following verses:--
"Some friends of the devil
With mischief and evil
Filled a green bag of no worth;
But in spite of the host,
It gave up the ghost
And died 53 days after birth."
The caricaturists of course were not idle, and the trial of Queen
Caroline provoked a perfect legion of pictorial satires. The queen's
victory is celebrated in one of the contemporary caricatures (published
by John Marshall, junior) under the title of _The Queen Caroline Running
down the Royal George_; while on the ministerial side it is recorded
(among others) by a far more elaborate and valuable performance
(published by G. Humphrey), called, _The Steward's Court of the Manor of
Torre Devon_, which contains an immense number of figures, and wherein
the queen is seated on a black ram[46] in the midst of one of the
popular processions, the members of which carry poles bearing pictorial
records of the various events brought out in evidence against her.
It is one of the peculiarities of our "Glorious Constitution," that
while the ministers who acted under his direction incurred all the
blame, the prime instigator of all these exposures was enabled to
shelter himself behind the backs of his "advisers." The ministers were
unpopular,--they deserved to be so, for, whatever might have been the
consequences to themselves so far as loss of office was concerned, they
should have refused from the first to lend themselves to the publication
of a scandal so utterly grievous. The king himself at this time was far
from unpopular; the odium he had incurred the previous year by the
thanks he had caused to be conveyed to Major Trafford, "and the
officers, non-commissioned officers, and privates" of the yeomanry who
had signalized themselves in the massacre at Manchester (an outrage
which, by the way, led to a number of pictorial satires), seemed to have
wholly passed away. He was at Ascot only two days before the queen's
arrival, and "was always cheered by the mob as he went away. One day
only a man in the crowd called out "Where's the Queen?"[47] Again, we
find on the same authority, that on the night of the 6th of February,
1821: "The king went to the play (Drury Lane) for the first time, the
Dukes of York and Clarence and a great suite with him. He was received
with immense acclamations, the whole pit standing up, hurrahing and
waving their hats. The boxes were very empty at first, for the mob
occupied the avenues to the theatre, and those who had engaged boxes
could not get to them. The crowd on the outside was very great.... A few
people called 'The Queen!' but very few. A man in the gallery called
out, 'Where's your wife, Georgy?'[48] His reception at Covent Garden the
following night appears to have been equally loyal and gratifying.
The truth was, that the numerous and truly honest people who sympathized
with Queen Caroline, did so from little admiration for herself, but
because she had been the victim of twenty-five years' persecution;
because, however great her follies, they had been grievously provoked;
and above all, because they felt that the man who was her most powerful
and relentless persecutor, was the very last who was justified in
casting a stone against her. The ministerialists and their supporters,
however, attributed the sympathy which was shown by her professed
admirers exclusively to a political origin, and thus stigmatized the
motives of their opponents (with more justice than poetry) in one of the
jingling rhymes of the day:--
"What's the Queen to Reformists? as Queen was to France,
Round her head and her consort's they'd equally dance.
They care not for Caroline, nor king, nor for queen,
A pretext they want their intentions to screen,
'The Queen!' is the Radicals' rallying cry;
A queen bears the standard the king to defy."
How entirely unfitted this mistaken woman was to figure in the august
position of a queen of England may be judged from her subsequent
conduct. Instead of contenting herself with her victory, such as it was,
she had the ill taste, in spite of the remonstrances of her friends and
advisers, to communicate to the Lord Mayor, through the medium of her
"vice chamberlain," her intention to proceed to St. Paul's in a public
manner on Wednesday, the 29th of November, there and then to offer up
her thanksgivings for the result: and this resolution she actually
carried out. The details of her procession, which really reminds us of
the entry of a company of equestrians into some provincial town, need
not be entered into here; suffice it to say that it comprised trumpeters
without number, stewards' carriages, gentlemen on horseback, the
corpulent queen herself, with her attendant, Lady Ann Hamilton, and the
indispensable Alderman Wood, the whole closing with "the various trades
with flags and banners." It would appear to us that one of the rarest of
the caricatures on the ministerial side has reference to this triumphal
entry. It is labelled, _Grand Entrance to Bamboozlem_, and was published
by Humphrey shortly afterwards. The queen is represented at the head of
a procession, all the members of which (herself included) are mounted on
braying "jackasses." A figure, intended no doubt for Alderman Wood,
habited in a fool's cap and jester's dress, holds her by the hand; the
lady who follows him, playing on the fiddle and wearing a Scotch bonnet,
is meant for Lady Ann Hamilton (she is named "Lady Ann Bagpipe" in the
sketch); Bergami (immediately behind) carries a banner inscribed
"Innocence"; and next him, his fat sister, whom the queen had dignified
with the title of a countess; Venus and Bacchus appear amongst the
crowd, and are labelled "Proteges and bosom friends of Her M----y." She
is welcomed by an enthusiastic body of butchers with marrow-bones and
cleavers; while among the crowd waiting to receive her we notice Orator
Hunt and the other popular leaders of the day.
[Illustration:
_Face p. 81._]
And here we drop for the present the subject of Queen Caroline, a
subject we have approached with caution, although conscious that it can
be by no means omitted from a work treating of graphic satires of the
nineteenth century. That she should now accept the L50,000 per annum
which she had previously refused, will probably not surprise the reader.
The end of a career so strangely undignified will be seen when we come
to treat of the caricatures of George Cruikshank.
The duel between the Dukes of Buckingham and Bedford; the erection of
the statue of Achilles in Hyde Park; the new Marriage Act; the second
French invasion of Spain under the Duc d'Angouleme; the Tenth Hussars;
Miss Foote, the celebrated actress; Edmund Kean; and the commercial
distress of 1825-6, afford subjects for the pencils of the
caricaturists, and will be mentioned in the chapters which relate to the
graphic satires of the brothers Cruikshank.
GREEK WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.
The pictorial satirists were kept fully employed by the political events
of 1827 and 1828. The former year beheld the sanguinary Greek war of
independence. Things turned out badly for the over-matched Greeks, until
at last Great Britain, France, and Russia interposed with Turkey on
their behalf. The proposals offered were such as the Turks refused to
entertain. The Porte, in refusing them, maintained that, though
mediation might be allowable in matters of difference between
independent states, it was utterly inadmissible as between a power and
its revolted subjects. The allied powers then proposed an armistice,
demanding a reply within fifteen days, plainly intimating that in the
event of refusal or silence (which would be construed into a refusal),
they should resort to measures for _enforcing_ a suspension of
hostilities.
BATTLE OF NAVARINO.
In the meantime arrived at Navarino the Egyptian fleet, consisting of
ninety-two sail, including fifty-one transports, having on board 5,000
fresh troops. Ibraham Pacha's attempt to hoodwink the British, and to
land these troops at Patras, was foiled by the vigilance and
determination of the English admiral. Disappointed in these attempts, he
proceeded, in the teeth of the warnings which had been given him, to
execute his orders to put down the insurrection on land, and carried
them out with merciless atrocity,--ravaging the Morea with fire and
sword. Resolved now to bring matters to an issue, the combined fleets in
October, 1827, entered the harbour. As was expected would happen, the
Turks fired upon them, and then ensued the famous battle of Navarino, in
which, after a four hours' engagement, the Turkish and Egyptian fleets
were annihilated, and the bay strewed with the remains of their ruined
vessels.
Russia declared war against Turkey the following year, and we meet with
many miscellaneous caricatures having reference to the conflict which
followed. In one, published by Maclean (without date) entitled, _Russian
Bears' Grease, or a Peep into Futurity_, we see the Russian bear running
off with Greece in spite of England, France, and Austria. Another (also
without date), is labelled _The Descent of the Great Bear, or the
Mussulmans in a Quandary_. In a third (also without date), called _The
Nest in Danger_, we see Turkey sitting on a nest marked "Greece"
disturbed by Russia, whilst the British lion stands looking on at no
great distance, discontentedly gnawing a bone labelled "Navarino." By
the time peace was concluded between the belligerents in 1829, England
would seem to have realized the fact that she had been made the tool of
Russia, and this is the obvious idea intended to be conveyed by the
satirist in another caricature (also without date, but bearing obvious
reference to the same subject). The Porte is represented in the act of
_presenting a bill of indemnification_ to George the Fourth.
CATHOLIC RELIEF BILL.
The principal political topic remaining to be noticed is the Catholic
Relief Bill of 1829, a measure forced upon the king, the ministry, the
church, and the aristocracy by the imperative force of circumstances,
directed by the prescience of a minister who, sharing at first all the
objections of his colleagues, felt nevertheless that a large portion of
his Majesty's subjects were labouring under disabilities and fettered by
restrictions inconsistent with the boasted liberties of a free people;
and that such a measure, in the face of the political changes which had
been loudly demanded for a long time past, could no longer be delayed.
It is not surprising, however, that Wellington and his colleagues,
following out the maxims of a Whig policy, should be viewed by their own
party somewhat in the light of traitors. Accordingly we see them
figuring in this character in some of the caricatures of the day, one of
which (one of the "Paul Pry" series), published by Geans in 1829, may be
cited as an example of the rest, and shows them to us in the act of
_Burking Old Mrs. Constitution, aged 141_.
In this and the two preceding chapters we have attempted to give an
account of some of the leading events of the first thirty years of the
century, illustrating them by reference to a _few_ of the miscellaneous
caricatures of the period. We have adopted this method of arrangement
because, if our theory be correct, it was during this period that the
art of caricature continued to flourish, and it is from this period that
we date its speedy decline and downfall. We think that the prime cause
of this decline may be traced to the fact that George Cruikshank, the
best of nineteenth century satirists, had by this time resigned the art
to follow his new employment of an illustrator of books; we think, too,
that caricature received an additional impetus in its downward progress
by the secession from the ranks of its professors of the veteran Thomas
Rowlandson, who, although he did not die until 1827, had virtually
given up caricature in favour of book illustration[49] many years
before. Further illustration of some of the events already related, and
of others to which we have no occasion at present to refer, will be
found in the chapters devoted to the work of Isaac Robert Cruikshank and
his brother George.
A considerable number of the caricatures which belong to the first
quarter of the century have an anonymous origin; whilst a large
proportion are due to William Heath, who, either in his own name, or
often under the distinguishing hieroglyphic of "Paul Pry," contributed
largely to the political and social satires of his day. Other
caricaturists of the period were H. Heath (hundreds of whose comic
sketches were collected and published by Charles Tilt), Theodore Lane,
and his friends Isaac Robert and George Cruikshank. To these names we
must add those of the last century men who continued their work into the
present, James Gillray, Thomas Rowlandson, George Moutard Woodward, C.
Williams, Henry William Bunbury, Robert Dighton, and others. Some idea
of the industry of the nineteenth century satirists may be gathered from
the fact that the "Paul Pry" series of political satires of 1829-30,
alone number some fifty plates, which in our day can rarely be purchased
at three times their original cost.
* * * * *
[Illustration:
THEODORE LANE. _From "Life of an Actor," 1824._
"THE GALLERY.--POWERFUL ATTRACTION OF TALENTS!"]
[Illustration:
THEODORE LANE. _From "Life of an Actor," 1824._
"THE NON-PAYING AUDIENCE."
_Face p. 85._]
THEODORE LANE.
On the walls of some old-fashioned dining-rooms, and the parlours of
provincial inns, may still be seen an engraving, called _The
Enthusiast_, which some of my readers may remember to have seen in the
print shops of some twenty or five-and-twenty years ago. It represents
an old disciple of Izaac Walton, whom the gout has incapacitated from
following his favourite pursuit, so devoted to the sport, that we see
him fishing for minnows in a water-tub, instead of the rippling
stream out of which he has been accustomed to whip his favourite
speckle-backed beauties. The painting from which this engraving was
taken was the work of Theodore Lane, who, although his work is limited
to the short space of five or six years, seems to call for special
mention by virtue of his tragic ending, the short span allotted to his
life and labours, and the superiority of his talent and genius to those
of many of his contemporaries. Lane was literally a comic artist of the
nineteenth century, having been born at Isleworth in 1800. He was
apprenticed to a colourer of prints at Battle Bridge, named Barrow; and,
shortly after completing his time, produced (in 1822) six designs
illustrative of "The Life of an Actor," and with these in a small
portfolio under his arm, went out into the world to seek his fortune as
other comic artists have done before him and since. Pierce Egan, at this
time, was the most popular man in town; his name (on very insufficient
literary merits) was identified with the success of the most famous book
of the century--we allude to the "Life in London." To his residence in
Spann's Buildings, St. Pancras, Lane betook himself; showed him his
sketches, and said if Egan would only undertake the letterpress, he
should find no difficulty in getting Ackermann, Sherwood, or any of the
art publishers of the day, to undertake its publication. But Egan's
hands were full, and he declined the offer. Two years later on, author
and artist again met, and the result was that "The Life of an Actor,
Peregrine Proteus," made its appearance, "illustrated by twenty-seven
coloured scenes and nine woodcuts, representing the vicissitudes of the
stage". The publisher was Arnold, of Tavistock Street, Covent Garden,
who paid the young artist one hundred and fifty pounds fifteen shillings
for his share of the work. "The Life of an Actor" was published at a
guinea, and dedicated to Edmund Kean; and a contemporary critic
describes it as "one of the best exemplifications of Mr. Egan's peculiar
talent. It is impossible for us," he continues, "to do justice to the
spirit of the designs, many of which would [of course] not discredit the
pencil of Hogarth." Lane's association with one of the most noted
sporting characters of the day opened the way to him for further
engagements, and for another work, entitled, "A Complete Panorama of
the Sporting World," he executed thirteen original etchings, and an
equal number of designs on wood.
Among the number of Theodore Lane's social satires may be mentioned
_Scientific Pursuits, or Hobbyhorse Races to the Temple of Fame_, four
folio plates; _The Parson's Clerk_ (a comic song), four illustrations in
ridicule of cant and hypocrisy; _Legal Illustrations_ (seventy humorous
applications of law terms); _The Masquerade at the Argyll Rooms_ (a
large plate full of vigour, life, and character); _New Year's Morning:
the Old One out, and the New One coming in_, a party of topers, one of
whom--the chairman, with the empty punch-bowl on his head (representing
"the old one out")--merrily points at the waiter bringing a full bowl
("the new one") in; _Sunday Morning--the Barber's Shop_; _Shilling Fare
to a Christmas Dinner, or Just in Pudding Time_; _The Rival Whiskers_;
and _Amorous, Clamorous, Uproarious, and Glorious_ (a pair of admirable
and amusing satires of the prevailing features, vices, and follies of
the day); _Crowding to the Pit_ and _Contending for a Seat_ (two capital
theatrical subjects). Lane also made a sketch entitled, _Paul Pry's
First Night in a Boarding House_, intended to be succeeded by eleven
others, the publication of which was however prevented by the death of
Liston. McLean published a large and clever design, bearing the somewhat
lengthy title of _Law Gorging on the Spoils of Fools and Rogues, and
Honest Men among Knavery, producing Repentance and Ruin; or, the Fatal
Effects of Legal Rapacity_,--wherein the highway of Law conducts to Ruin
through a series of toll-gates labelled respectively, "Opinion of
Counsel," "Injunction," "Filing the Bill," "Consultation,"
"Procrastination," etc.
Like his contemporaries the Cruikshanks, with whom he was familiar,
Theodore Lane mixed freely with the young bloods of his day, termed in
the slang of his time "Corinthians," and the results are shown in his
designs. He might often be seen at the "Craven's Head," in Drury Lane,
kept by a host known to his patrons by the familiar title of "Billy
Oxberry"; at the Saturday night harmonic meetings held at the "Kean's
Head," in Russell Court, Drury Lane; at "The Wrekin," in Broad Court,
Long Acre, at that time frequented by gentlemen of the Press; at "The
Harp," in Russell Street, Drury Lane, a well known house of call for
actors, and appropriately immortalised in one of his illustrations to
"The Life of an Actor"; at the "Cider Cellar"; at the "Fives Court"; at
the numerous "Masquerades" of the day; at any place of resort, in fact,
which offered studies of life and character or subjects of social
satire. He figures in his own sketch of _The Masquerade at the Argyll
Rooms_, where we recognise him (in one of the right hand boxes) in a
white sheet, a tall paper cap on his head, and a staff in his hand. His
impersonations were sometimes singularly original. At one of these
"masquerades," for instance, he represented a "frozen-out gardener"
soliciting charity, and holding in his hand a cabbage covered with
icicles; at another, he appeared as a hospital "out-patient," wearing a
hideous mask (designed by himself) representing some dreadful disease,
from which the bystanders recoiled in horror and amazement. With all
this drollery Lane kept himself well out of mischief, and was moreover,
in days when young and old were more or less inclined to be topers, a
strictly temperate man.
But Lane's talents were not confined to comic etching or designs on
wood. He was also an artist in oil and water colour. He painted in oils
_The Drunken Gardener_; _The Organ of Murder_, a clumsy, nervous
craniologist feeling his own head in doubt and perplexity to ascertain
whether the dreadful "organ" is developed in himself; _An Hour before
the Duel_ (exhibited at the Institution in Pall Mall). Other subjects of
his pictures were: _The Poet reading his Manuscript Play of Five Acts to
a Friend_; _Too many Cooks Spoil the Broth_; _The Nightmare_; _The
Mathematician's Abstraction_ (the latter purchased by Lord Northwick).
His most ambitious work in oils (upwards of seventeen feet in length)
was called _A Trip to Ascot Races_. His last work, _The Enthusiast_ (the
first we have mentioned), was exhibited at Somerset House at the time of
his death.
The fate of this clever young artist and satirist was both singular and
tragical. It appears that on the 21st of February, 1828, Theodore Lane,
who then resided in Judd Street, Brunswick Square, called upon his
brother-in-law, Mr. Wakefield, a surgeon of Battle Bridge, intending to
proceed in the latter's gig to Hampstead, to join a party of friends who
had gone there to spend the day. Mr. Wakefield having to visit a patient
in Manchester Street, Gray's Inn Lane, drove there with his
brother-in-law, and this was the last time he was seen alive. Close to
the place was a horse bazaar, which the artist appears to have entered
by way of passing the time. The horse and trap were there, but no trace
of poor Lane; and on search being made, his body was found lying
lifeless at the foot of the auctioneer's stand. He appears to have
wandered into the betting-room, and by some unexplained means or other
fallen backwards through an insufficiently protected skylight. The
clever head was battered so completely out of recognition that he was
only identified by his card-case. That Lane was a man of unusual promise
is shown by the fact that amongst the subscribers for the benefit of the
widow and children of the deceased, we find the names of Sir Thomas
Lawrence, president of the Royal Academy; F. Chantrey, R.A.; George
Westmacott; Cooper, the celebrated animal painter; and Leahy, the
painter of the celebrated picture of "Mary Stuart's Farewell to France."
The remains of this ill-fated, talented young fellow lie in the burial
ground of old St. Pancras.
FOOTNOTES:
[23] "Fifty Years of my Life," by George Thomas, Earl of Albemarle,
vol. i. p. 270.
[24] "Annual Register," 1813.
[25] _Ibid._ (Chronicle), 342.
[26] See the letter of the Princess of Wales, "Annual Register," 1813
(Chronicle), 342.
[27] See speech of Mr. Whitbread, "Annual Register," 1813 (20).
[28] "Annual Register," 1813 (Chronicle), 345.
[29] "Annual Register," 1813, p. 24.
[30] Whitbread.
[31] Sir John and Lady Douglas.
[32] Letter from the queen to the Princess of Wales of 23rd May,
1814.--"Annual Register," 1814, p. 349.
[33] So called because he carried home with him, in sundry bags, the
cases pending his judgments.
[34] Wade's, "British History," p. 765.
[35] See "Greville Memoirs," vol. i. p. 24 (February 24th).
[36] "Annual Register," 1820, p. 135.
[37] _Ibid._, pp. 131, 132.
[38] "Greville Memoirs," vol. i. p. 28.
[39] "Fifty Years of my Life," by George Thomas, Earl of Albemarle,
vol. ii. p. 123.
[40] "Annual Register," 1820, p. 986.
[41] See caricatures of Robert Cruikshank, 1820.
[42] "Annual Register," 1820, p. 1149; see also the impartial opinion
of the Duke of Portland, "Greville Memoirs," vol. i. p. 56.
[43] See "Annual Register," 1820, p. 1139 _et seq._
[44] This of course may not be the case. The Duke of Kent, we know,
was dead at the time, and Wood, we believe, was not Lord Mayor. He
had been Lord Mayor some time before, and the satire may possibly
allude to some order made at that time. At the same time, I find the
caricature amongst those assigned (in the large but badly arranged
collection to which I have present access) to this particular period.
[45] "Annual Register," 1820 [190].
[46] There is a custom in the Manor of Torre Devon, that when a
copyhold tenant dies, his widow has her free-bench in his land, but
forfeits her estate on committing the offence with which the queen
was charged; on her coming however into court riding backward on a
black ram, and repeating the formula mentioned in the design, the
steward is bound to reinstate her. Without this explanation the
meaning of this telling satire would not be understood. For the
formula (which cannot be repeated here) I must refer the reader to
Jacob's Law Dictionary, ed. 1756, title, "Free Bench."
[47] "Greville Memoirs," vol. i. p. 27.
[48] _Ibid._, p. 43.
[49] Unlike George Cruikshank, Rowlandson seldom dropped caricature
in his book illustration. When he does so, as in his designs to
"Naples and the Compagna Felice," he shows (as in his water colour
drawings) his wonderful graphic powers. His illustrated books are
rare, and command good prices. William Coombe's English "Dance of
Death" and "Dance of Life" (I refer of course to first editions) can
only now be purchased at L14.