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James Gillray. [January 11th, 1796. TWOPENNY WHIST. Mistress Humphrey and Betty, of St. James’ Street, their neighbour Mortimer (a well-known picture dealer) and a German guest. [A satire, by contrast, on the high stakes of “White’s” and “Boodle’s.”] [Face p. 16.

The feeling of the nation at this time may be judged by the debates in the Houses of Parliament. In the Commons, Mr. Grey English Enthusiasm. moved an amendment, which, while it assured His Majesty of support in the war, expressed disapprobation of the conduct of Ministers. This amendment was rejected by 398 to 67. The unanimity in the Lords was still greater. The official statement that England was unable to contend single-handed with France produced a violent outburst of indignation, and the amendment moved by Lord King, to omit words which charged France with the actual guilt and responsibility of breaking the treaty, was negatived by 142 to 10. This was on the 23rd of May. On the 20th of June a great meeting was held at Lloyds, for the purpose of promoting a subscription for carrying on the war. Six days later on, five thousand merchants, bankers, and other persons of position met at the Royal Exchange, and unanimously agreed to a declaration which expressed their determination to “stand or fall with their king and country.” This resolution or declaration was seconded by the Secretary to the East India Company, and the meeting did not separate until “God save the King” and “Rule Britannia” had been sung, and nine cheers had been given for England and King George. On the 26th of August, His Majesty reviewed the London volunteers in Hyde Park, in the presence of the French princes, General Dumouriez, and two hundred thousand spectators; this military spectacle being followed on the 28th by a review, in the same place, of the Westminster, Lambeth, and Southwark corps. The number of volunteers actually enrolled in the metropolis and outparishes at this time was forty-six thousand.

The following year saw the final end of the great French Revolution; the names of the puppet “second” and “third” consuls had been long omitted from the public acts of the French Government. The motives of this omission were soon abundantly apparent; and in the month of May, 1804, Bonaparte was proclaimed Emperor of the French.

Some writers have doubted whether Napoleon entertained any serious intention of invading this country; but to doubt such intention would be really to doubt whether Nelson fell at Trafalgar, for that crushing defeat was simply the sequel and outcome of the collapse of the emperor’s plans. The details of the invasion scheme were fully explained to General Sir Neil Campbell by Napoleon himself at Elba, in 1814, and afterwards confirmed by him in precisely similar terms to O’Meara at St. Helena. Those plans were defeated by the suspicions and vigilance of Lord Nelson; by his habit of acting promptly upon his suspicions; by the alacrity with which the Admiralty of the day obeyed his warnings; by the prescience of Lord Collingwood; and by the consequent intercepting of the combined French and Spanish fleets off Ferrol by Sir Robert Calder, in July, 1806. The moment this happened, Napoleon saw that his game—so far at least as England was concerned—was at an end; and fertile in resources, he immediately carried out the second part of his programme. Then followed, as we know, the campaign of Austerlitz, the treaty of Presburg, the war with Prussia, and finally the battle of Jena, in October, 1806.

Ever bent on humiliating and crippling the resources of Berlin Decree. England, Napoleon on the 1st of November, 1806, issued his memorable “Berlin Decree,” containing eleven clauses, of which this country formed the exclusive topic. By it, all trade and correspondence with the British Isles was prohibited; all letters and packets at the post office, addressed to England, or to an Englishman, or “written in English,” were to be seized; every subject of England found in any of the countries occupied by French troops or those of their allies, was to be made prisoner of war; all warehouses, merchandise, and property belonging to a subject of England were declared lawful prize; all trading in English merchandise forbidden; every article belonging to England, or coming from her colonies, or of her manufacture, was declared good prize; and English vessels were excluded from every European port.10 This outrageous “decree” Bonaparte imposed upon every country that fell under the iron sway of his military despotism.

NAPOLEON FORTY-EIGHT HOURS AFTER LANDING. “Ha, my little Boney! what dost think of Johnny Bull now? Plunder Old England, hay? Make French slaves of us all, hay? Ravish all our wives and daughters, hay? O, Lord help that silly head! To think that Johnny Bull would ever suffer those lanthorn jaws to become King of Old England’s Roast Beef and Plum Pudding!”

JOHN BULL OFFERING LITTLE BONEY FAIR PLAY. Bonaparte—“I’m a-coming! I’m a-coming!” John Bull—“You’re a-coming! If you mean to invade us, why make such a route? I say, Little Boney,—why don’t you come out? Yes, d—— you, why don’t you come out?” FIGURES FROM GILLRAY’S NAPOLEONIC CARICATURES. [Face p. 18.

The policy, therefore, of the emperor towards England, which was contrary to all the usages of civilized warfare, will explain Base Policy of Bonaparte. the bitter animosity with which he was regarded in this country. The English were molested everywhere; they were made prisoners at Verdun and in Holland; their property was confiscated in Portugal; Russia was cajoled, Prussia forced into a league against them, and Sweden menaced, because she persisted in maintaining her alliance with this country. The “Berlin Decree” was an infamous document, worthy rather the policy of a bandit chief than of a fair and honourable antagonist. It proclaimed war not against individuals, but against private property, and specially appealed to the cupidity of those to whom it was addressed. This base policy towards English subjects recoiled inevitably against its perpetrator; and its effects were soon felt in the fields of the Peninsula, the banishment to Elba, and above all, in the final consignment to the rock of St. Helena. We, on our part, ignored Bonaparte’s right to the title of emperor. With us, he was invariably “General Bonaparte,” and nothing more; and in the graphic lampoons of Gillray, Rowlandson, and Cruikshank, he was exhibited under the most ludicrous circumstances in connection with the divorce, the defeats of Russia and the Peninsula, and even the paternity of his son the young king of Rome. These caricatures were brought to his notice by his spies and emissaries in England; they rendered him furious; and one of them—Gillray’s admirable and, as it subsequently proved, prophetic satire of The Handwriting on the Wall—is said to have given him not only offence, but even serious uneasiness.

The tone of the English caricaturists may be gathered from one of the best of Woodward’s satires, published in 1807. It is entitled A Political Fair, in which the various shows are labelled Russian, Danish, Swedish, Westphalian, Austrian, Dutch, Spanish, and even American. The best show in the fair is kept of course by John Bull & Co., whilst Bonaparte is the proprietor of a humble stall, whereat gingerbread kings and queens are sold wholesale and retail by his Imperial Majesty.11 The same artist, in another but distinctly inferior satire (published in November, 1807), gives us The Gallick Storehouse for English Shipping: on one side we see Napoleon accumulating vast stores of Spanish, Danish, Dutch, and Swedish vessels, intended to annihilate the naval power of England—the shipbuilder, however, shrugs his shoulders and suggests it is but time thrown away, for as fast as the ships are built, John Bull “claps them into his storehouse over the way.” The satire was suggested of course by the victory of Trafalgar in October, 1805; by Sir J. Duckworth’s capture of French shipping in January, 1806; and by the surrender of the Danish fleet after the bombardment of Copenhagen, in September, 1807.12

In a caricature published by Walker in 1808, we see Joseph Bonaparte (one of these Imperial ginger-bread monarchs) driven from Madrid by Spanish flies; the satire is entitled Spanish Flies, or Boney taking an Immoderate Dose, and has reference to the results of the Battle of Baylen, in Andalusia, one of the very few victories Battle of Baylen. ever obtained by the Spaniards against the French, where a division of 14,000 men surrendered to Castanos. This was on the 20th of July, and nine days afterwards Joseph retreated to Burgos with the crown jewels. The wretched Spaniards, however, were incapable of improving their victory; and General Castanos instead of following up the retreating enemy, went to Seville to fulfil a vow he had made of dedicating his unexpected victory to St. Ferdinand, on whose tomb he deposited the crown of laurel presented to him by his grateful countrymen. Of the Bonaparte caricatures of this year, no less than nineteen are due to the pencil of Thomas Rowlandson, and will be found fully described in Mr. Joseph Grego’s exhaustive work13 upon that artist and his works.

THE KING OF BROBDINGNAG AND GULLIVER.
TALLEYRAND, KING-AT-ARMS, BEARING HIS MASTER’S GENEALOGICAL TREE, SPRINGING FROM BUONE, BUTCHER.	NAPOLEON IN HIS CORONATION ROBES.
FIGURES FROM GILLRAY’S NAPOLEONIC CARICATURES. [Face p. 20.

The year 1809 witnessed the divorce from Josephine, and the marriage of the emperor to Marie Louise. The purposes for which this matrimonial alliance was effected were made no secret of by the emperor, and were indicated of course in the plainest possible terms by the English contemporary caricaturists, who were certainly not troubled with any unnecessary scruples of prudery or delicacy. One of these satires, published by Tegg, on the 16th of August, 1810, is entitled Boney and his New Wife, or a Quarrel about Nothing, and indicates in the plainest possible terms that the purposes for which the divorce had been effected were as distant as ever. The result of this union, however, was the birth of the young king of Rome on the 20th of March, 1810, an event which set the pencils of our pictorial satirists once more in motion, and the young heir and his father were complimented by Rowlandson in a rough caricature, published by Tegg on the 9th of April, 1811, as Boney the Second, the little Babboon [sic] created to devour French Monkies.

In March, 1811, was fought the battle of Barossa; while the Battle of Barossa. same month Massena, finding it difficult to maintain his army in a devastated country, instead of fulfilling his vain-glorious boast of driving “the English into their native element,” began his own retreat from Santarem, abandoning part of his baggage and heavy artillery. Marching in a solid mass, his rear protected by one or two divisions, he retired towards the Mondego, preserving his army from any great serious disaster, though watchfully and vigorously pursued by Lord Wellington. The skilful generalship of the French marshal elicited of course no encomiums from the English caricaturists. On the contrary, we see (in “The Scourge” of 1st May, 1811) Wellington in the act of basting a French goose before a huge fire, a British bayonet forming the spit. While basting the goose with one hand, the English general holds over the fire in the other a frying-pan filled with French generals, some of whom—to escape the overpowering heat—are leaping into the fire; another British officer (probably intended for General Graham) blows the flames with a pair of bellows labelled “British bravery.” Napoleon appears in a stew-pan over an adjoining boiler, while we find Marshal Massena himself in a pickle-jar below. This satire is entitled, British Cookery, or Out of the Frying-pan into the Fire.

The star of Napoleon was beginning to wane in 1812. The snow Napoleon’s Star begins to wane. made its first appearance in Russia on the 13th of October of that year, and the French emperor already commenced his preparations for retreat. This is referred to in a very clever caricature published by Tegg on the 1st of December, 1812, wherein we find General Frost shaving Boney with a razor marked “Russian steel.” Napoleon stands up to his knees in snow, and out of the nostrils of the snow fiend [General Frost] issue blasts labelled “North,” “East,” “Snow,” and “Sleet.” Seven days later on, we meet with a roughly-executed cartoon, Polish Diet with French Dessert, wherein we see Napoleon basted by General Benningsen, the spit being turned by a Russian bear. This caricature, no doubt, has reference to the disastrous defeat by Benningsen of the French advanced guard, thirty thousand strong, under Murat, on the 18th of October, 1812, when fifteen hundred prisoners, thirty-eight cannon, and the whole of the baggage of the corps, besides other trophies, fell into the victors’ hands.

The retreat from Moscow is referred to in a satire published by Thomas Tegg on the 7th of March, 1813, labelled, The Corsican Bloodhound beset by the Bears of Russia; wherein Napoleon is represented as a mongrel bloodhound with a tin kettle tied to his tail, closely pursued by Russian bears. Various papers are flying out of the kettle, labelled “Oppression,” “Famine,” “Frost,” “Destruction,” “Death,” “Horror,” “Mortality,” “Annihilation.” “Push on, my lads,” says one of the pursuers. “No grumbling; keep scent of him; no sucking of paws this winter, here is food for the bears in all the Russias.” The emperor, in truth, had the narrowest escape from being made a prisoner by the Cossacks, a fact alluded to in another caricature published by Tegg in June, 1813, entitled, Nap nearly Nab’d, or a Retreating Jump just in time. Here, the emperor and one of his marshals are depicted leaping out of window, at the very moment when a Cossack with his lance appears outside the palings. “Vite,” says the marshal, in the peculiar patois adopted by the English caricaturists of the early part of the century, “Courez, mon Empereur, ce Diable de Cossack, dey spoil our dinner!!!”

Napoleon collected his marshals around him at Smorgoni, on the The Bulletin. 5th of December, 1812, and dictated a bulletin which developed the horrors of the retreat, and explained to them his reasons for returning to Paris. “I quit you,” he said, “but go to seek three hundred thousand men.” He then proceeded to lay the blame on the King of Westphalia, and his trusted and tried friend the Duc d’Abrantes; alleged that English torches had turned Moscow into a heap of ashes; and added (with greater truthfulness) that the cold had done the rest of the mischief. He entrusted the command to Murat, and bidding them farewell set out, accompanied only by Generals Coulaincourt, Duroc, and Mouton, the Mameluke Rustan, a captain of the Polish lancers, and an escort of Neapolitan horsemen. This event is referred to in a caricature, published by S. W. Fores on the 1st of January, 1813, entitled, Boney returning from Russia covered with Glory, leaving his army in comfortable winter quarters. Napoleon and Coulaincourt are seated in a sleigh driven by another general in jack boots, with a tremendous cocked hat on his head, a huge sword by his side, and a formidable whip in his hand. Coulaincourt inquires, “Will your Majesty write the bulletin?” “No,” replies Napoleon; “you write it. Tell them we left the army all well, quite gay; in excellent quarters; plenty of provisions; that we travelled in great style; received everywhere with congratulations; and that I had almost completed the repose of Europe” (a favourite expression of his). By way of contrast to these grandiloquent phrases, the eye is attracted to the surroundings. The ground is thickly coated with snow; in the foreground, two famished wretches cut and devour raw flesh from a dead horse. On all sides lie dead and dying men and animals, while in the distance we behold the flying and demoralized troops chased by a cloud of Cossacks. The English caricaturists follow the emperor into the sanctity of his private life; they depict in their own homely but forcible fashion the astonishment of the empress at his unexpected return, and the disgust of young “Boney the Second,” who not only expresses surprise that his imperial sire had forgotten his promise to “bring him some Russians to cut up,” but suggests that they seem to have “cut him up” instead. These incidents are described in a satire entitled, Nap’s Glorious Return; or, the Conclusion of the Russian campaign, published by Tegg, in June, 1813.

The crushing defeat of Vitoria, the crowning disaster of Leipzig—sustained the same year, the subsequent abdication of Bonaparte, the return from Elba, the brief incident of the “hundred days,” the catastrophe of Waterloo, and the subsequent consignment of the great emperor to St. Helena, form of course the subjects of a host of graphic satires. Foremost amongst them (for Gillray’s intellect was gone), must be mentioned the caricatures of Thomas Rowlandson and of George Cruikshank. The first being fully described in Mr. Grego’s work, we are not called on to mention them here, while the last will be fully set out when we come to treat of the caricature work of George Cruikshank.

The French royalist satirists of course expressed their views on French Royalist Satires. the situation. A French royalist caricature, published after Waterloo, represents Napoleon as a dancing bear forced to caper by England, his keeper, who makes an unsparing use of the lash, whilst Russia and Prussia play pipe and drum by way of music. A good answer, however, to this is found in a French caricature (published in the Napoleon interest), like most of the French satires of that period without date, entitled, L’après dinée des Anglais, par un Français prisonnier-de-guerre, which satirizes the after-dinner drinking propensities of the English of the period. The caricature, although neither flattering nor altogether decent, is probably not an exaggerated picture of English after-dinner conviviality while the century was young.

Gillray.] [“Royal Affability,” Feb. 10th. “Well, friend, where a’ you going, hay? What’s your name, hay? Where do you live, hay?—hay?”
Gillray.] [Connoisseur examining a Cooper June 18th, 1792. A CONNOISSEUR IN ART.	Gillray.] [“A Lesson in Apple Dumplings.” “Hay? hay? apple dumplings?—how get the apples in?—how? Are they made without seams?” [Face p. 24.

By far the most biting, the most sarcastic, the most effective, and the most popular of the anti-Bonaparte caricatures are those by James Gillray, which commence before the close of the last century, and end in 1811, the year when the lurid genius of this greatest and most original of satirists was quenched in the darkness of mental imbecility. James Gillray, however, like his able friend and contemporary, Thomas Rowlandson, does not fall within our definition of a “nineteenth century” satirist; and I am precluded from describing them. I have before me the admirable anti-Bonaparte satires of both artists; and inseparably linked as they are with the men who began work after 1800, the almost irresistible tendency is to describe some of them in elucidation of the events to which I have occasion to refer. To do so, however, although fascinating and easy, would be not only to wander from my purpose, but to invade the province of the late Thomas Wright and of Mr. Grego, which I am not called upon to do; to refer to them, however, for the purpose of this chapter, I have found not only necessary, but unavoidable.

Caricature, like literary satire (as we all know from the days of Injustice of the Caricaturists. the “Dunciad” downwards), has little concern with justice; but we who look back after the lapse of the greater part of the century, and have moreover studied the history and the surroundings of Napoleon Bonaparte, may afford at least to do him justice. Gillray is a fair exponent of the intense hatred with which Bonaparte was regarded in this country, when not only the little “Corsican,” but those about him, were held up to a ridicule which, oftentimes vulgar, partook not unfrequently of absolute brutality. Who would imagine, for instance, that the fat blousy female quaffing deep draughts of Maraschino from a goblet, in his famous satire of the Handwriting on the Wall, was intended for the refined and delicate Josephine? Occasionally, however, James Gillray descended to a lower depth, as in his Ci Devant Occupations (of 20th February, 1805), in which we see this delicate woman, with the frail but lovely Spaniard, Theresa de Cabarrus (Madame Tallien), figuring in a manner to which the most infamous women of Drury Lane would have hesitated to descend. Josephine de la Pagerie, as we all know, was anything but blameless; which indeed of les Déesses de la Revolution could pass unscathed through the fiery furnace of the Terror?14 But this miscalled satire of James Gillray, which he dubs “a fact,” is nothing They mistake the character of Bonaparte. less than a poisonous libel. As for le petit Caporal himself, everyone now knows, that while he viewed the carnage of the battlefield with the indifference of a conqueror, he shrank in horror from the murderers of the Swiss; from Danton and his satellites, the Septembrist massacrists; from the mock trials and cold-blooded atrocities of the Terrorists. Standing apart from these last by right of his unexampled genius, with Danton, Marat, Robespíerre, Couthon, Carrier, Napoleon Bonaparte has nothing whatever in common. Looking back upon the ruins of his empire, the mistakes he had made, the faults he had committed, Napoleon, with reference at least to his own personal elevation, might say with truth: “Nothing has been more simple than my elevation. It was not the result of intrigue or crime. It was owing to the peculiar circumstance of the times, and because I fought successfully against the enemies of my country. What is most extraordinary is, that I rose from being a private person to the astonishing height of power I possessed, without having committed a single crime to obtain it. If I were on my death-bed I could make the same declaration.”15

To these facts, of course, James Gillray (if indeed he knew them) closed his eyes. In his sketch of the 12th of May, 1800, he shows us the young lieutenant at the head of tattered legions directing the destruction of the royal palaces. Blinded by the prejudice of his times, he seems apparently ignorant of the fact that Napoleon although a spectator of the attack on the Tuileries, had no power; that if he had, he would (as he himself expressed it at the time) have swept the sanguinary canaille into the gutters with his grape shot. Again, in his satires, he connects him repeatedly with the guillotine, to all appearance unconscious of the fact that between Napoleon and the guillotine no possible sympathy existed.

James Gillray.] [June 28th, 1791. THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY PETRIFIED, AND THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY REVIVIFIED. 1. Barber—“De King is escape! de King is escape!” 2. Cook.—“Aha! be gar, de King is retaken!! Aha! Monsieur Lewis is retaken, aha!!” [The French Revolution.] [Face p. 26.

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A good idea of the appearance and costume of “the general” Robert Dighton’s Sketches. and notables of the early part of the century, is given by the sketches of the last century artist, Robert Dighton. His etchings are not caricatures, as may be supposed, but likenesses of the oi polloi—the university dons—the prize-fighters—the butchers—the singers—actors—actresses—the men about town (“Corinthians,” as they were termed in the slang of the Regency)—the “upper ten”; and what amazingly queer folks were these last! The Duke of Grafton, with his tremendous beak, wig, and cocked hat, his mahogany tops and spurs, his long coat with the flapped pockets and his star; the Marquis of Buckingham, with his red fat face and double chin, which told tales of nightly good cheer, his cocked hat, military coatee, and terrific paunch, which resisted all attempts to confine it within reasonable military compass; John Bellingham—the murderer of Spencer Perceval,—with his retreating forehead, long pointed nose, drab cloth coat and exuberant shirt frill; “What? What? What?”—Great George himself, as he appeared in 1810, in full military panoply—huge ill-fitting boots, huge blue military coat, collar, lappets, and star, a white-powdered bob surmounting a clean-shaved unintellectual face, the distinguishing characteristics of which were a pair of protruding eyes surmounted by ponderous eyebrows.

A well-drawn caricature published by S. W. Fores on the 11th of May, 1801, gives us an admirable idea of the male and female costume of the period. It contains sixteen figures, and is entitled Tea just Over, or the Game of Consequences begun. “Consequences” would appear to have been a fashionable game at this time; but the “consequences” here alluded to are the immediate results of a pinch of snuff. The “consequences” of one gentleman sneezing are the following: he jerks the arm of the lady next him, the result being that she pours her cup of scalding hot tea over the knees of her neighbour, a testy old gentleman, who in his fright and pain raises his arms, jerking off with his cane the wig of a person standing at the back of his chair, who in the attempt to save his wig upsets his own cup and saucer upon the pate of his antagonist Another guest, with his mouth full of tea, witnessing this absurd contretemps is unable to restrain his laughter, the result of which is that he blows a stream of tea into the left ear of the man who has lost his wig, at the same time setting his own pigtail alight in the adjoining candle. All these disasters, passing in rapid succession from left to right, are the direct “consequences” of one unfortunate pinch of snuff.

The year 1804 witnessed the advent of a performer whose theatrical reputation, notwithstanding the wonderful sensation it created for a couple of seasons, was not destined to survive his childhood. The brief furore he excited, enabled his friends to lay by for him a considerable fortune, which enabled him to regard the memory of his immature triumphs and subsequent failures with resignation. Master Betty, “the Young Roscius,” was not quite thirteen years Master Betty. of age when he made his first appearance at Covent Garden on the 1st of December, 1804, as Achmet in Barbarossa. He played alternately at the two great houses; twenty-eight nights at Drury Lane brought £17,210 into the treasury, whilst the receipts at Covent Garden during the same period are supposed to have been equally large. A rough caricature of 1804, bearing the signature “I. B.,” depicts the child standing with one foot on Drury Lane and the other on Covent Garden, with a toy whip in one hand and a rattle in the other, while two full-grown actors of real merit bemoan the decadence of public taste on the pavement below. Some years later on the pair might have said with Byron,—

“Though now, thank Heaven! the Rosciomania’s o’er, And full-grown actors are endured once more.”16

The leading home political incident of 1806 was the impeachment and acquittal of Lord Melville, an event which is dealt with by Gillray, and also by Rowlandson in his graphic satire of The Acquittal, or Upsetting the Porter Pot, both artists alluding to Whitbread, the brewer, the head of the advanced Liberals, and one of the principal movers of Lord Melville’s impeachment.

T. Rowlandson.] [October 25th, 1810. “SPITFIRES.” [Back to p. 28.

T. Rowlandson.] [1813. “THE COBBLER’S CURE FOR A SCOLDING WIFE.” [Back to p. 29.

Gas, which now promises to be superseded in its turn by Introduction of Gas. electricity, was introduced into Boulton & Watts’ foundry, at Birmingham, as early as the year 1798, and the Lyceum Theatre was lit with gas (by way of experiment) in 1803; it met however with much opposition from persons interested in the conservation of the oil trade, and made no real progress in London until 1807, when it was introduced into Golden Lane on the 16th of August. Pall Mall, however, was not lighted with gas until 1809, and it was really not finally and generally introduced into London until the year 1820. We meet with an excellent satire published by S. W. Fores, in 1807, wherein a harlequin is depicted sitting on a rope suspended between a couple of lamp posts. The lamps and the hat of the figure are garnished with lighted burners; the neighbours in the windows of the adjoining houses, the people on the pavement below, the fowls, the dogs, the cats on the roofs, are suffocated with the noxious vapour. The figure holds in his hand a paper, whereon we read, “This is the speculation to make money, £10,000 per cent. profit all in Air-light air. ’Tis there, ’tis here, and ’tis gone for ever.” This caricature bears the title of The Good Effects of Carbonic Gas. A caricature of Woodward, engraved by Rowlandson, and published by Ackermann on the 23rd of December, 1809, gives us A Peep at the Gas Lights in Pall Mall, the interest of which chiefly centres in the eccentric form of the early street lamps. Among the groups looking on are a wondering “country cousin” and a “serious” companion. “Ay, friend,” says the latter, anxious of course, in season and out of season, to turn the occasion to profitable account, “verily it is all vanity! What is this to the inward light?” Some more disreputable members of the community are expressing their fears that the new light will interfere with their own peculiar modes of livelihood.

A clever and somewhat remarkable woman succeeded in achieving an unenviable notoriety in 1809. The daughter of a printer residing in Bowl and Pin Alley, near White’s Alley, Chancery Lane, the remarkably intelligent girl had early attracted the notice of friends, one of whom placed her at a boarding school, where she picked up an education (such as it was) sufficient to sharpen her natural abilities. Her commencement in life was scarcely a hopeful one. Mary Anne Thompson eloped at seventeen years of age with one Joseph Clarke, the son of a builder on Snow Hill, and after living with him three years married him. The marriage was not a happy one. The pair after some years separated, and Mary Anne was thenceforth driven to trust for her support to her own resources and attractions.

These proved fully equal to the occasion. Somewhat small in Mary Anne Clarke. stature, nature had nevertheless endowed her with a remarkably well turned figure, well shaped arms, comely features, a singularly clear complexion, and blue eyes full of light and vivacity. Dressing with considerable taste and elegance—utterly shameless—without principle or character, with nothing to lose—everything to gain, the woman was eminently fitted to succeed in the peculiar path in life she had elected to follow. Throwing her line with all the dexterity of an accomplished angler, she succeeded almost at her first cast in hooking a very large fish indeed—his Royal Highness Frederick Duke of York, Commander-in-chief, Prince-bishop of Osnaburgh, who had attained at this time the respectable age of forty-six years.

Mary Anne proved, as might have been expected, an expensive plaything. In the short space of two years, the duke seems to have handed his mistress upwards of £5,000, besides expending on her in payments to tradesmen for wine, furniture, and other “paraphernalia,” at least £16,000 or £17,000 more. In time, as is not unusual in matters of this kind, the duke seems to have grown tired of his enslaver, and endeavoured to pension her off with an annuity of £400 a year; but with the niggardliness which was so distinguishing a characteristic of his family, payment was not only withheld, but when the woman applied for payment, the duke was mean and foolish enough to threaten her with prison and the pillory. Mrs. Clarke, a woman of genius and resource, instead of being frightened, straightway betook herself to Messrs. Wilberforce and Whitbread, the supporters of the impeachment of Lord Melville, and confessed to them certain irregularities of which she had been guilty.

Into the unsavoury revelations of Mary Anne Clarke, her traffic in the sale of military commissions, and still worse, in a system of ecclesiastical patronage in which she alleged his Royal Highness connived, we need not enter. They are set out as far as is necessary in Mr. Grego’s book, and also in Mr. Wright’s treatise on James Gillray and his works. Suffice it to say, that all these miserable exposures would have been saved, had the duke, instead of seeking to save his pocket, paid the annuity to which the woman was entitled. If by resigning, he thought to silence his unscrupulous persecutor, he was quickly and unpleasantly undeceived. The clever, unscrupulous woman had reserved her trump-card to the last. All this time she had been engaged in preparing her “Memoirs,” comprising not only the history of her transactions with his Royal Highness, but a series of his letters, containing, it is said, anecdotes of illustrious personages of the most curious and recherché description. The immediate publication of these “Memoirs” having been announced to his Royal Highness, the duke was driven in spite of himself to effect an arrangement. For a payment of £7,000 down, an annuity of £400 for her own life, and one of £200 for each of her daughters, the printed “Memoirs” (eighteen thousand copies) were destroyed, the publication suppressed, and above all the terrible private correspondence duly surrendered.

The mover of the committee of inquiry was one Wardle, colonel of a militia regiment, who for a very brief space of time was permitted to figure as a patriot; that he was a mere instrument in the hands of other persons seems now abundantly clear. No sooner had Mary Anne Clarke landed his Royal Highness, than she fixed her hook in the jaws of the luckless colonel, who, tool as he was, proved to be by no means a sharp one. It is obvious a woman of Mrs. Clarke’s character would be the last person to open her lips, unless it was made clear to her that it would be worth her while to do so. Her go-between in the transaction was a certain “Major” Dodd. Wardle gave Mrs. Clarke £100 for present necessities, and by way of earnest of more liberal promises which seem afterwards to have been repudiated by his employers. Through Major Dodd, the clever, unprincipled woman secured a house in Westbourne Place, which she furnished in a style of comfortable elegance, and succeeded by her blandishments in swindling Wardle into becoming security for her furniture. The inevitable result of course followed. On the 3rd July, 1809, Wright, the upholsterer, brought his action against Wardle and recovered £1,400 damages,17 besides costs, “for furniture sold to the defendant to the use of Mary Anne Clarke.” The colonel, like the commander-in-chief, thus found himself not only out-manœuvred by his clever and unscrupulous ex-ally, but reaped the obloquy attendant on exposure and ridicule, instead of the glorification which had at first greeted his patriotic exertions.

Mary Anne Clarke and the Duke of York, afforded (as might have been expected) plenty of employment to the caricaturists. The theme, however, is treated too grossly for description, a subject to be regretted, as most of the satires, containing as they do admirable portraits of the principal personages, are exceedingly clever. The subject suited an artist who delighted in delineating the immodest and full-blown beauties of Drury Lane; and accordingly, more than forty caricatures on the subject of “The Delicate Investigation,” as it was called, are due to the pencil of Thomas Rowlandson.

In order to show the character of this infamous woman, we must The end of Mary Anne Clarke. follow her progress a little farther than either Mr. Grego or Mr. Wright appear to have done. In February, 1814, she once more made a public appearance: this time in the Court of Queen’s Bench. She seems to have got the Right Hon. William Fitzgerald, Chancellor of the Irish Exchequer, by some means or other into her clutches, in connection with the proceedings of 1809. By this time, however, she had descended so low, that exposure was threatened unless a sum of money was deposited under a stone. In her threats, she announced her intention of “submitting to the public in a very short time two or three volumes, which might be followed by others as opportunity should suit or circumstances require.” This threat, instead of extorting money, consigned Mary Anne to the custody of the marshal of the King’s Bench Prison for the space of nine calendar months, at the end of which period she was ordered to find securities to keep the peace for a space of three years. It might have gone harder with the brazen woman if the proceedings had taken any other form than that of an indictment for libel, and if she had not admitted her fault, and in some measure thrown herself upon the mercy of the court. The pages of history do not appear to be sullied with the intrusion of Mary Anne Clarke’s name after this period.

The year 1811 is marked by an event which claims special record in a work treating of English caricatures and caricaturists of the century. In that year, James Gillray executed the last of his famous etchings; and although mere existence was prolonged for nearly four years afterwards, till the 1st of June, 1815, he sank in 1811 into that hopeless and dreary state of mingled imbecility and delirium from which the intellect of this truly great and original genius was destined never to recover.

9 “If it had not been for you English, I should have been Emperor of the East; but wherever there is water enough to float a ship, we are sure to find you in our way.”—Napoleon to Captain Maitland. See Maitland’s “Narrative of the Surrender of Bonaparte,” p. 99.

10 London Chronicle, December 6th, 1806.

11 See also Gillray’s previous satire of the 23rd of January, 1806 (which probably suggested this), Tiddy Doll, the Great French Gingerbread Baker, drawing out a new batch of kings.

12 See also Gillray’s cartoon of 1st October, 1807, British Tars towing the Danish Fleet into Harbour.

13 See vol. ii., p. 92, et seq.

14 In a loose age, Madame Tallien, notwithstanding such virtues as she possessed, was a loose character. Between 1798 and 1802 she had three children, who were registered in her family name of Cabarrus. On the 8th of April, 1802, at her own request a divorce was pronounced from Tallien, and with two husbands still alive she married (14th July, 1805,) Count Joseph de Caraman, soon after heir of the Prince de Chimay. She died in the odour of sanctity, on the 15th of January, 1835.

15 O’Meara, vol. i, p. 250.

16 “English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.”

17 According to Mr. Grego, £2,000.