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.
A distinguishing characteristic of Gillray's style is, the wonderful
tact with which he seizes upon the points in his subject open to
ridicule, and the force with which he brings those points out. In the
fineness of his design, and in his grouping and drawing, he excels all
the other caricaturists. He was, indeed, born with all the talents of
a great historical painter, and, but for circumstances, he probably
would have shone in that branch of art. This excellence will be the
more appreciated when it is understood that he drew his picture with
the needle on the plate, without having made any previous sketch of
it, except sometimes a few hasty outlines of individual portraits or
characters scrawled on cards or scraps of paper as they struck him.
Soon after the two caricatures on Rodney's naval victory, the
Rockingham administration was broken up by the death of its chief, and
another was formed under the direction of Lord Shelburne, from which
Fox and Burke retired, leaving in it their old colleague, Pitt, who
now deserted the Whig party in parliament. Fox and Burke became from
this moment the butt of all sorts of abuse and scornful satire from the
caricaturists, such as Sayer, and newspaper writers in the pay of their
opponents; and Gillray, perhaps because it offered at that moment the
best chance of popularity and success, joined in the crusade against
the two ex-ministers and their friends. In one of his caricatures,
which is a parody upon Milton, Fox is represented in the character of
Satan, turning his back upon the ministerial Paradise, but looking
enviously over his shoulder at the happy pair (Shelburne and Pitt) who
are counting their money on the treasury table:--
_Aside he turned
For envy, yet with jealous leer malign
Eyed them askance._
Another, also by Gillray, is entitled "Guy Faux and Judas Iscariot,"
the former represented by Fox, who discovers the desertion of his
late colleague, lord Shelburne, by the light of his lantern, and
recriminates angrily, "Ah! what, I've found you out, have I? Who arm'd
the high priests and the people? Who betray'd his mas--?" At this
point he is interrupted by a sneering retort from Shelburne, who is
carrying away the treasury bag with a look of great self-complacency,
"Ha, ha! poor Gunpowder's vexed! He, he, he!--Shan't have the bag, I
tell you, old Goosetooth!" Burke was usually caricatured as a Jesuit;
and in another of Gillray's prints of this time (published Aug. 23,
1782), entitled "Cincinnatus in Retirement," Burke is represented as
driven into the retirement of his Irish cabin, where he is surrounded
by Popish relics and emblems of superstition, and by the materials
for drinking whisky. A vessel, inscribed "Relick No. 1., used by St.
Peter," is filled with boiled potatoes, which Jesuit Burke is paring.
Three imps are seen dancing under the table.
[Illustration: _No. 222. A Strong Dose._]
In 1783 the Shelburne ministry itself was dissolved, and succeeded
by the Portland ministry, in which Fox was secretary of state for
foreign affairs, and Burke, paymaster of the forces, and Lord North,
who had joined the Whigs against lord Shelburne, now obtained office
as secretary for the home department. Gillray joined warmly in the
attacks on this coalition of parties, and from this time his great
activity as a caricaturist begins. Fox, especially, and Burke, still
under the character of a Jesuit, were incessantly held up to ridicule
in his prints. In another year this ministry also was overthrown, and
young William Pitt became established in power, while the ex-ministers,
now the opposition, had become unpopular throughout the country. The
caricature of Gillray followed them, and Fox and Burke constantly
appeared under his hands in some ridiculous situation or other. But
Gillray was not a hired libeller, like Sayer and some of the lower
caricaturists of that time; he evidently chose his subjects, in some
degree independently, as those which offered him the best mark for
ridicule; and he had so little respect for the ministers or the court,
that they all felt his satire in turn. Thus, when the plan of national
fortifications--brought forward by the duke of Richmond, who had
deserted the Whigs to be made a Tory minister, as master-general of
the ordnance--was defeated in the House of Commons in 1787, the best
caricature it provoked was one by Gillray, entitled "Honi soit qui
mal y pense," which represents the horror of the duke of Richmond at
being so unceremoniously compelled to swallow his own fortifications
(cut No. 222). It is lord Shelburne, who had now become marquis of
Lansdowne, who is represented as administering the bitter dose. Some
months afterwards, in the famous impeachment against Warren Hastings,
Gillray sided warmly against the impeachers, perhaps partly because
these were Burke and his friends; yet several of his caricatures on
this affair are aimed at the ministers, and even at the king himself.
Lord Thurlow, who was a favourite with the king, and who supported the
cause of Warren Hastings with firmness, after he had been deserted by
Pitt and the other ministers, was especially an object of Gillray's
satire. Thurlow, it will be remembered, was rather celebrated for
profane swearing, and was sometimes spoken of as the thunderer. One
of the finest of Gillray's caricatures at this period, published on
the 1st of March, 1788, is entitled "Blood on Thunder fording the Red
Sea," and represents Warren Hastings carried on chancellor Thurlow's
shoulders through a sea of blood, strewed with the mangled corpses
of Hindoos. As will be seen in our copy of the most important part of
this print (cut No. 223), the "saviour of India," as he was called by
his friends, has taken care to secure his gains. A remarkably bold
caricature by Gillray against the government appeared on the 2nd of May
in this year. It is entitled "Market-Day--every man has his price," and
represents a scene in Smithfield, where the horned cattle exposed for
sale are the supporters of the king's ministry. Lord Thurlow, with his
characteristic frown, appears as the principal purchaser. Pitt, and
his friend and colleague Dundas, are represented drinking and smoking
jovially at the window of a public-house. On one side Warren Hastings
is riding off with the king in the form of a calf, which he has just
purchased, for Hastings was popularly believed to have worked upon king
George's avarice by rich presents of diamonds. On another side, the
overwhelming rush of the cattle is throwing over the van in which Fox,
Burke, and Sheridan are driving. This plate deserves to be placed among
Gillray's finest works.
[Illustration: _No. 223. Blood on Thunder._]
Gillray caricatured the heir to the throne with bitterness, perhaps
because his dissipation and extravagance rendered him a fair subject
of ridicule, and because he associated himself with Fox's party in
politics; but his hostility to the king is ascribed in part to personal
feelings. A large and very remarkable print by our artist, though his
name was not attached to it, and one which displays in a special manner
the great characteristics of Gillray's style, appeared on the 21st of
April, 1786, just after an application had been made to the House of
Commons for a large sum of money to pay off the king's debts, which
were very great, in spite of the enormous income then attached to the
crown. George was known as a careful and even a parsimonious man, and
the queen was looked upon generally as a mean and very avaricious
woman, and people were at a loss to account for this extraordinary
expenditure, and they tried to explain it in various ways which were
not to the credit of the royal pair. It was said that immense sums were
spent in secret corruption to pave the way to the establishment of
arbitrary power; that the king was making large savings, and hoarding
up treasures at Hanover; and that, instead of spending money on his
family, he allowed his eldest son to run into serious difficulties
through the smallness of his allowance, and thus to become an object of
pity to his French friend, the wealthy duc d'Orleans, who had offered
him relief. The caricature just mentioned, which is extremely severe,
is entitled "A new way to pay the National Debt." It represents the
entrance to the treasury, from which king George and his queen, with
their band of pensioners, are issuing, their pockets, and the queen's
apron, so full of money, that the coins are rolling out and scattering
about the ground. Nevertheless, Pitt, whose pockets also are full,
adds to the royal treasures large bags of the national revenue, which
are received with smiles of satisfaction. To the left, a crippled
soldier sits on the ground, and asks in vain for relief; while the
wall above is covered with torn placards, on some of which may be
read, "God save the King;" "Charity, a romance;" "From Germany, just
arrived a large and royal assortment...;" and "Last dying speech of
fifty-four malefactors executed for robbing a hen-roost." The latter
is a satirical allusion to the notorious severity with which the most
trifling depredators on the king's private farm were prosecuted. In the
background, on the right hand side of the picture, the prince appears
in ragged garments, and in want of charity no less than the cripple,
and near him is the duke of Orleans, who offers him a draft for
£200,000. On the placards on the walls here we read such announcements
as "Economy, an old song;" "British property, a farce;" and "Just
published, for the benefit of posterity, the dying groans of Liberty;"
and one, immediately over the prince's head, bears the prince's
feathers, with the motto, "Ich starve." Altogether this is one of the
most remarkable of Gillray's caricatures.
[Illustration: _No. 224. Farmer George and his Wife._]
The parsimoniousness of the king and queen was the subject of
caricatures and songs in abundance, in which these illustrious
personages appeared haggling with their tradesmen, and making bargains
in person, rejoicing in having thus saved a small sum of money. It
was said that George kept a farm at Windsor, not for his amusement,
but to draw a small profit from it. By Peter Pindar he is described
as rejoicing over the skill he has shown in purchasing his live stock
as bargains. Gillray seized greedily all these points of ridicule,
and, as early as 1786, he published a print of "Farmer George and his
Wife" (see our cut No. 224), in which the two royal personages are
represented in the very familiar manner in which they were accustomed
to walk about Windsor and its neighbourhood. This picture appears to
have been very popular; and years afterwards, in a caricature on a
scene in "The School for Scandal," where, in the sale of the young
profligate's effects, the auctioneer puts up a family portrait, for
which a broker offers five shillings, and Careless, the auctioneer,
says, "Going for no more than one crown," the family piece is the
well-known picture of "Farmer George and his Wife," and the ruined
prodigal is the prince of Wales, who exclaims, "Careless, knock down
the farmer."
Many caricatures against the undignified meanness of the royal
household appeared during the years 1791 and 1792, when the king
passed much of his time at his favourite watering-place, Weymouth;
and there his domestic habits had become more and more an object of
remark. It was said that, under the pretence of Weymouth being an
expensive place, and taking advantage of the obligations of the royal
mail to carry parcels for the king free, he had his provisions brought
to him by that conveyance from his farm at Windsor. On the 28th of
November, 1791, Gillray published a caricature on the homeliness of
the royal household, in two compartments, in one of which the king
is represented, in a dress which is anything but that of royalty,
toasting his muffins for breakfast; and in the other, queen Charlotte,
in no less homely dress, though her pocket is overflowing with money,
toasting sprats for supper. In another of Gillray's prints, entitled
"Anti-saccharites," the king and queen are teaching their daughters
economy in taking their tea without sugar; as the young princesses show
some dislike to the experiment, the queen admonishes them, concluding
with the remark, "Above all, remember how much expense it will save
your poor papa!"
[Illustration: _No. 225. A Flemish Proclamation._]
According to a story which seems to be authentic, Gillray's dislike
of the king was embittered at this time by an incident somewhat
similar to that by which George II. had provoked the anger of Hogarth.
Gillray had visited France, Flanders, and Holland, and he had made
sketches, a few of which he engraved. Our cut No. 225 represents
a group from one of these sketches, which explains itself, and is
a fair example of Gillray's manner of drawing such subjects. He
accompanied the painter Loutherbourg, who had left his native city
of Strasburg to settle in England, and become the king's favourite
artist, to assist him in making sketches for his great painting of
"The Siege of Valenciennes," Gillray sketching groups of figures
while Loutherbourg drew the landscape and buildings. After their
return, the king expressed a desire to see their sketches, and they
were placed before him. Loutherbourg's landscapes and buildings
were plain drawings, and easy to understand, and the king expressed
himself greatly pleased with them. But the king's mind was already
prejudiced against Gillray for his satirical prints, and when he
saw his hasty and rough, though spirited sketches, of the French
soldiers, he threw them aside contemptuously, with the remark, "I
don't understand these caricatures." Perhaps the very word he used was
intended as a sneer upon Gillray, who, we are told, felt the affront
deeply, and he proceeded to retort by a caricature, which struck at
once at one of the king's vanities, and at his political prejudices.
George III. imagined himself a great connoisseur in the fine arts, and
the caricature was entitled "A Connoisseur examining a Cooper." It
represented the king looking at the celebrated miniature of Oliver
Cromwell, by the English painter, Samuel Cooper. When Gillray had
completed this print, he is said to have exclaimed, "I wonder if the
royal connoisseur will understand this!" It was published on the 18th
of June, 1792, and cannot have failed to produce a sensation at that
period of revolutions. The king is made to exhibit a strange mixture
of alarm with astonishment in contemplating the features of this
great overthrower of kingly power, at a moment when all kingly power
was threatened. It will be remarked, too, that the satirist has not
overlooked the royal character for domestic economy, for, as will be
seen in our cut No. 226, the king is looking at the picture by the
light of a candle-end stuck on a "save-all."
[Illustration: _No. 226. A Connoisseur in Art._]
From this time Gillray rarely let pass an opportunity of caricaturing
the king. Sometimes he pictured his awkward and undignified gait, as he
was accustomed to shuffle along the esplanade at Weymouth; sometimes
in the familiar manner in which, in the course of his walks in the
neighbourhood of his Windsor farm, he accosted the commonest labourers
and cottagers, and overwhelmed them with a long repetition of trivial
questions--for king George had a characteristic manner of repeating his
questions, and of frequently giving the reply to them himself.
[Illustration: _No. 227. Royal Affability._]
[Illustration: _No. 228. A Lesson in Apple Dumplings._]
_Then asks the farmer's wife, or farmer's maid,
How many eggs the fowls have laid;
What's in the oven, in the pot, the crock;
Whether 'twill rain or no, and what's o'clock;
Thus from poor hovels gleaning information,
To serve as future treasure for the nation._
So said Peter Pindar; and in this _rôle_ king George was represented
not unfrequently in satirical prints. On the 10th of February Gillray
illustrated the quality of "Affability" in a picture of one of these
rustic encounters. The king and queen, taking their walk, have arrived
at a cottage, where a very coarse example of English peasantry is
feeding his pigs with wash. The scene is represented in our cut No.
227. The vacant stare of the countryman betrays his confusion at the
rapid succession of questions--"Well, friend, where a' you going,
hay?--What's your name, hay?--Where do you live, hay?--hay?" In other
prints the king is represented running into ludicrous adventures while
hunting, an amusement to which he was extremely attached. One of the
best known of these has been celebrated equally by the pen of Peter
Pindar and by the needle of Gillray. It was said that one day while
king George was following the chase, he came to a poor cottage, where
his usual curiosity was rewarded by the discovery of an old woman
making apple dumplings. When informed what they were, he could not
conceal his astonishment how the apples could have been introduced
without leaving a seam in their covering. In the caricature by Gillray,
from which we take our cut No. 228, the king is represented looking
at the process of dumpling making through the window, inquiring
in astonishment, "Hay? hay? apple dumplings?--how get the apples
in?--how? Are they made without seams?" The story is told more fully
in the following verses of Peter Pindar, which will serve as the best
commentary on the engraving:--
_THE KING AND THE APPLE DUMPLING._
_Once on a time a monarch, tired with whooping,
Whipping and spurring,
Happy in worrying
A poor, defenceless, harmless buck
(The horse and rider wet as muck),
From his high consequence and wisdom stooping,
Enter'd through curiosity a cot,
Where sat a poor old woman and her pot._
_The wrinkled, blear-eyed, good old granny,
In this same cot, illum'd by many a cranny.
Had finish'd apple dumplings for her pot.
In tempting row the naked dumplings lay,
When lo! the monarch in his usual way
Like lightning spoke, "What this? what this? what? what?"
Then taking up a dumpling in his hand,
His eyes with admiration did expand,
And oft did majesty the dumpling grapple.
"'Tis monstrous, monstrous hard, indeed?" he cried;
"What makes it, pray, so hard?"--The dame replied,
Low curtseying, "Please your majesty, the apple."
"Very astonishing, indeed! strange thing!"
Turning the dumpling round, rejoined the king;
"'Tis most extraordinary then, all this is--
It beats Pinetti's conjuring all to pieces--
Strange I should never of a dumpling dream!
But, Goody, tell me where, where, where's the seam?"
"Sir, there's no seam," quoth she, "I never knew
That folks did apple dumplings sew."
"No!" cried the staring monarch with a grin,
"How, how the devil got the apple in?"
On which the dame the curious scheme reveal'd
By which the apple lay so sly conceal'd,
Which made the Solomon of Britain start;
Who to the palace with full speed repair'd
And queen, and princesses so beauteous, scared,
All with the wonders of the dumpling art.
There did he labour one whole week, to show
The wisdom of an apple dumpling maker;
And lo! so deep was majesty in dough,
The palace seem'd the lodging of a baker!_
Gillray was not the only caricaturist who turned the king's weaknesses
to ridicule, but none caricatured them with so little gentleness, or
evidently with so good a will. On the 7th of March, 1796, the princess
of Wales gave birth to a daughter, so well known since as the princess
Charlotte. The king is said to have been charmed with his grandchild,
and this sentiment appears to have been anticipated by the public, for
on the 13th of February, when the princess's accouchment was looked
forward to with general interest, a print appeared under the title of
"Grandpapa in his Glory." In this caricature, which is given in our
cut No. 229, king George, seated, is represented nursing and feeding
the royal infant in an extraordinary degree of homeliness. He is
singing the nursery rhyme--
_There was a laugh and a craw,
There was a giggling honey,
Goody good girl shall be fed,
But naughty girl shall have noney._
This print bears no name, but it is known to be by Woodward, though it
betrays an attempt to imitate the style of Gillray. Gillray was often
imitated in this manner, and his prints were not unfrequently copied
and pirated. He even at times copied himself, and disguised his own
style, for the sake of gaining money.
[Illustration: _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.