CRADLED IN CARICATURE
Visual humour in satirical prints and drawings
This exhibition is about how artists,
caricaturists and cartoonists from Hogarth to the
present day have created visual jokes to make their
audiences laugh, and the admiration these artists
have and have had for past masters.
However, artists learned, assimilated and reused
successful devices and techniques, putting them to
use in new contexts.
This exhibition focuses on the visual
techniques and tricks that worked, and which still
have the power to amuse us today. These methods
include simple exaggeration of facial features;
costumes and fashion fads; clever juxtapositions
and contrasts of body types; absurd, nonsense
comedy; dark humour; bawdy humour; and more
complicated word-play, with the interplay of word
and image or ironic literary allusions.
The inspiration for the exhibition came from an
elaborate timeline drawn by Ronald Searle (19202011), on the history of graphic satire, subtitled ’the
ancient art of deflation’ (see no. 36). It entered the
museum’s collection in 2014 as part of a generous
gift of drawings from the artist’s family, a selection
of which was selected for display in the exhibition
‘Ronald Searle: Obsessed with Drawing’, running
concurrently in the Shiba Room (Gallery 14). Searle
gave a great deal of thought to his place within the
tradition of ‘graphic humour’, seeing himself as ‘one
of the unfortunates ... who [had] been born with the
compulsion to entertain, irritate, comment, criticise
or simply change the world’, and was taken with the
phrase ’cradled in caricature’, used by one of his
heroes, George Cruikshank, to describe his
upbringing as assistant and colourist in his father’s
studio.
Some critics in the 18th century thought that
laughter was ‘unseemly’. We do not hold those
views here: please laugh as much as you like.
Humour in political satire, especially, is very
important - its capacity to make people laugh is
what made (and continues to make) the images so
powerful.
Britain has a long tradition of visual satire, but
making visual jokes is not as easy as it looks. The
caricatures of Gillray and Rowlandson’s time are
characterised by quick-wittedness and expressive
drawing to produce an image that appeals
immediately to the eye. But not every satirical print
from the past is funny, often because we no longer
understand the context, or due to the fact that
some – as is the case for present-day cartoons were not meant to be rib-ticklingly funny in the
first place. There were conflicting ideas on what
should be poked fun at, and by what means.
Produced to accompany an exhibition at the
Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, 13 October 2015 31 January 2016.
The works are drawn from the Fitzwilliam’s
collection, with key loans from Andrew Edmunds,
Benjamin Lemer and Glen Baxter.
Special thanks to Andrew Edmunds and David
Alexander – no one should plan an exhibition on
caricature without their help - and Dr. David
Francis Taylor, Associate Professor, Dept. of English
& Comparative Literary Studies, University of
Warwick, who contributed to the section on ‘Word
Play’, pp. 8-11.
Graphic satirists and caricaturists were not all
cut from the same cloth: often the intention was to
raise a laugh, such as in the light-hearted
burlesques by Thomas Rowlandson, while in the
work of others humour is merged with satire to
convey a more serious message or moral lesson.
© Text and photographs copyright The Fitzwilliam
Museum, University of Cambridge, 2015
William Hogarth despised the caricature
tradition (although he did produce a couple), once
saying that he wanted to ‘lash the vices, but the
persons spare’; while James Gillray produced some
of the most savage personal attacks ever seen.
The Fitzwilliam Museum
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CATALOGUE
All measurements are in millimetres, height
preceding width.
Alexander: David Alexander, Richard Newton and
English caricature in the 1790s, Manchester 1998.
BM Satires: F.G. Stephens and M. D.George,
Catalogue of Political and Personal Satires
preserved in the Department of Prints and
Drawings in the British Museum, vols. III - XI,
London 1877-1954.
Unless otherwise specified the text is by Elenor
Ling, Research Assistant, Paintings Drawings &
Prints.
contrasts, such as physiques (fat and thin, tall and
short), or the ‘incompatible’ (a masculine woman
and a feminine man).
1. Max Beerbohm (1872-1956)
Caricature of Lord Morley and Lord Courtney
Pen and wash, 1913; 404 x 253
Given by Philip Henry Gosse, 1942 (2467)
Beerbohm was not a classically trained artist, but
this was a contributing factor to his success as a
caricaturist. He was a writer and critic, and applied
the same analysis and an epigrammatic wit to
drawing. Beerbohm never drew from life, preferring
to work from memory, saying that the ‘perfect
caricature is not a mere snapshot … it is the
epitome of its subject’s surface, the presentment
(once and for all) of his most characteristic pose,
gesture, expression.’ He tried to capture a person’s
salient points, saying that when the ‘exterior’ of his
subjects was hit upon exactly, this would reveal
their soul.
Exaggeration of faces and bodies (nos. 1-6)
The art of drawing Caricaturas is generally
considered as a dangerous acquisition,
tending rather to make the possessor
feared rather than esteemed.
Francis Grose, Rules for drawings Caricaturas…
(1788)
2. James Gillray (1757-1815)
Doublûres of characters; -or -striking resemblances
in phisiognomy
Etching and hand colouring, published by J Wright
for the Anti-Jacobin Review, 1 Nov. 1798; 263 x 362;
BM Satires 9261
Given by Lady Violet Beaumont 1948 (P.482-1948)
Distortion of facial features is the simplest
humorous device available to an artist. Examples of
extraordinary physiognomies were drawn by
Leonardo da Vinci and these became widely known
after they were copied in the 17th century. The
caricature tradition, which portrayed individuals
rather than generic types, originated in Italy in the
studio of the brothers Annibale and Agostino
Carracci; the Italian verb caricare meaning ‘to load’
(i.e. to load the features, to distort). Men on the
Grand Tour brought caricature drawings back to
Britain, and enterprising printsellers in London,
recognising the potential of this entertaining
pastime for wealthy amateurs, disseminated some
examples through etchings
In this print Gillray alludes to the influential
treatise by Johann Kaspar Lavater (1741-1801), who
argued that a person’s outer appearance could be
linked to character traits. Caricaturists, Gillray
claimed, can also reveal an individual’s true nature.
The sentiment was first iterated by one of the
forefathers of caricature, Annibale Carracci (15601609), who said the same thing when likening a
caricaturist’s art to a classical artist, 'both see the
lasting truth beneath the surface of more outward
appearance'. Gillray depicts seven figures from the
Whig party shadowed by their ‘inner’ selves (e.g.
Charles James Fox, party leader, upper left, is a
clown and a devil). Gillray included a quote from
Lavater at the bottom: ‘If you would know men’s
hearts, look in their faces,’ implying that the
method was applicable to all, whatever political
affiliation. The print was first issued uncoloured in
an 'Ultra-Tory' journal, which sprang up in 1798, but
separate, hand coloured impressions were also
issued by Gillray's publisher, Hannah Humphrey.
William Hogarth was not impressed with the
tradition, considering it a frivolous, foreign art form.
However, the next generation of caricaturists,
James Gillray and Thomas Rowlandson, mixed
caricature with satire to create what Ronald Searle
described on his timeline of graphic satire (see no.
36) as a ‘vigorous political weapon’. There was
much more to the art of Gillray and his
contemporaries than amusing facial distortion: they
had a similar intention to the Carracci brothers in
Italy, who had thought that calculated facial
distortions could uncover the ‘truth’ or essence of a
personality. The idea that the human face would
enable a person ‘to know the inner man by the
outer, to apprehend the invisible by the visible
surface,’ was revisited in 1775 in a treatise on
physiognomy by Johann Kaspar Lavater (1741-1801)
3. James Gillray (1757-1815)
A sphere, projecting against a plane
Etching and hand colouring, published by Hannah
Humphrey, 3 January 1792; 280 x 225; BM Satires
8054
Given by Lady Violet Beaumont 1948 (P.268-1948)
This section also looks at some of the more
elaborate formulas invented by caricaturists to fully
exploit the humour of caricatured faces and bodies.
Successful devices were established and used over
and over again. Francis Grose’s manual for drawing
caricatures, for instance, recommended laughable
Here Gillray combines physical distortion with an
inspired juxtaposition: Prime Minister William Pitt
stands alongside a spherical Albinia Hobart,
socialite, gambler, amateur thespian and keen
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supporter of Pitt’s political rival, Charles James Fox.
The ‘Hon.ble Mrs Circumference’ is so large that
she has to be wheeled into place on a trolley. The
dry, factual quotation from Euclid (‘A Plane ... is the
most Simple of Figures … And when applied ever so
closely to a Sphere, can only touch its superficies,
without being able to enter it’), is a perfect
accompaniment to the elemental design, and also
serves to dig at Pitt’s rumoured sexual coldness.
6. Henry Mayo Bateman (1887-1970)
The maid who was but human
Pen and Indian ink, 1922 (450 x 330)
Bequeathed by J.D. Holliday 1927 (1207)
Bateman contrasts multiple figures in this wordless
strip-cartoon, a form he is credited for inventing.
He also created this type of joke, sometimes
referred to as the ‘Odd man out’ joke, where a
room is shocked at a social faux pas. The singleframe images tell the story of a maid laughing at
something she hears at the table she is serving,
much to the chagrin of her ‘betters’. In the last
frame, the contrast between the embarrassed maid
and the diners, scowling heads bowed, encourages
us to feel sympathy for the former and scorn for the
social code. The cartoon was published in Punch on
13 December 1922.
4. Richard Newton (1777-1798)
A paper meal with Spanish sauce
Etching with hand colouring, published by the
artist, 14 March 1797; 347 x 354 plate; 246 x 254
sheet; Alexander 235; From the Starhemberg
collection.
On loan from Andrew Edmunds
Newton excelled at silly, burlesque comedy (see
nos. 19 and 20), but he also produced biting
political satires. He had close links to radical
activities: his early death at the age of 21 is thought
to be due to contracting a fever after visiting his
publisher, William Holland, in Newgate jail. In this
print, the recognisable figure of William Pitt, with
skeletal legs and pointed nose, is contrasted against
the rotund figure of John Bull, the English
everyman. The ‘Spanish sauce’ in the title is a
reference to the Spanish-American silver dollars
the Bank of England purchased in 1797 to make up
for a shortage in silver coins.
Costume satire (nos. 7-9)
Exaggeration was used to great effect in fashion
satire and changing fashions provided caricaturists
with new material on a regular basis. In the 1770s
fashion satires were filled with extravagant female
hairstyles. Women were pictured with all sorts of
ridiculous objects embedded in their locks (no. 7).
In the 1780s the prints lampooned ‘rumps’ or
‘bums’ (cork or stuffed pads worn around the hips
to create a fuller skirt), while plunging necklines
and near-transparent material were the sources of
amusement in the 1790s. In many cases not much
imagination was required of the artist: victims of
fashion proved easy targets for caricature
This print is one of several in the exhibition from
the collection of Ludvig Fürst von Starhemberg,
Envoy Extraordinary of the Court of Vienna (17621833) to London from July 1792 until 1807. He
bought thousands of caricatures during his time in
London; the collection was dispersed in the late
1950s.
There does not seem to have been much moral
indignation in these satires, just the desire to
lampoon vain followers of outrageous fashions. It
was often the sheer impracticality and unflattering
nature of the garments and accessories that caused
such merriment. Enormously high wigs or wide hips
made it difficult to walk inconspicuously through
doorways; tube-like bonnets got in the way of
normal conversation; trailing hems were easily
caught on all manner of objects, and new fabrics
were dangerously flammable.
5. William Hogarth (1697-1764)
The enraged musician
Etching and engraving, 1741; 360 x 408 (plate); BM
Satires 2518
Bequeathed by Charles Brinsley Marlay 1912
(P.4747-R)
Hogarth, who invented the concept of Modern
Moral Subjects, tales told over a series of six or
eight plates, would have been appalled to be
labelled a caricaturist, but many of his prints
contain humorous details that relate to the main
story. In this crowded scene, probably the most
comic of his stand-alone prints, the individual
figures are not especially funny in themselves, but
together they make an amusing whole. The
exasperated foreign violinist covers his ears to block
out the ruckus of the London street, including a
ballad singer, oboe player, street crier, knife grinder,
screeching parrot, and cats fighting on a distant
rooftop. Only the little girl with the rattle is quiet as
she pauses in shock to watch a boy urinate under
the window (the scene is noisome as well as noisy).
Trends in male fashion were not immune from
ridicule. In the latter half of the 18th century,
caricaturists targeted the Macaronis, the foppishly
dressed men aping French fashions with powdered
wigs, delicate shoes and tassel-topped canes.
Dandyism continued into the Regency period, but
these dandies wore high collars and ballooning
trousers with high, waspish waists.
Ronald Searle’s timeline of caricature (no. 36)
agrees with the accepted view that satire lost its
edge during George Cruikshank’s lifetime (Searle
called it ‘the decline into drawing-room gentility’).
However, some of the funniest costume satires
were published in the 1820s by Thomas McLean.
He issued dozens of satires on the affectation of
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dress, at a time when men’s fashion was as
deserving of ridicule as women’s (see no. 8).
1827-29, bearing his ‘signature’, Paul Pry, a dandy.
In this print, as he points out in the caption, Heath
demonstrates that a ‘modern belle’ can be created
out of a collection of household objects.
7. After Samuel Hieronymus Grimm (1733-1794)
The French lady in London or the head dress for
the year 1771
Etching, published by Sarah Sledge, 2 April 1771;
354 x 263; BM Satires 4784
Given by Louis Colville Grey 1940 (P.261-1940)
Grotesque/fantastically absurd (nos. 10-13)
In his 1788 drawing manual for aspiring
caricaturists, Francis Grose warned that the
practitioner ‘should be careful not to overcharge
the peculiarities of their subjects, as they would
thereby become hideous instead of ridiculous, and
instead of laughter excite horror'.
Fashion satire became a flourishing genre in the
late 18th century. In the 1770s, the butt of the joke
was the extravagant hairstyles (poufs ) inspired by
the French Royal Court. Stacks of natural hair,
bulked up by horsehair and cloth, were worn on top
of the head and adorned with ribbons, flowers,
feathers or even small objects. Women were
caricatured with all sorts of ridiculous items,
including military encampments, embedded in
their tresses. In this scene, two men and a cat are
frightened by the towering form of a woman who
can scarcely fit through the tall door frame.
Grotesque in the original sense of the word related
to a type of playful decoration (discovered in
underground rooms; the word developed from the
Italian grotta, ‘cave’). In caricature, grotesque was
any sort of distortion, not necessarily veering
towards the extremely ugly. However, Rowlandson
produced some particularly memorable, utterly
revolting grotesque figures, such as a hunched cook
dribbling into his pastry, or distillers letting their
noses run into a vat. Rowlandson often contrasted
an older, ugly man with much younger, pretty
women. Just as Hogarth was noted (and criticised)
for seeming to enjoy the depiction of vice rather
than virtue, in the work of both Rowlandson and
Gillray there is a definite sense of the attraction of
revulsion.
8. Henry Pyall (1795-1833)
Private practice or a solo at home
Etching and aquatint with hand colouring, after M
Egerton, published by Thomas McLean 1827; 328 x
225 (plate); BM Satires undescribed
Bequeathed by Charles Brinsley Marlay 1912 (34.13199)
A relish of the absurd is also often a predominant
feature of humorous prints and drawings.
Rowlandson was a great observer, and as well as
enjoying the exposure of the absurdity of
voyeuristic ageing men or the pretentiousness of
art connoisseurs, he spotted comic absurdities
everywhere he went. Contemporary artist Glen
Baxter does not expose the absurd, preferring to
leave it up to the viewer to make sense of what he
has created. His drawings are works of a human
being who sees the world as a peculiar place and
tries to recreate the sense of insanity in his work
(nos. 13 & 26).
The publisher of this print, Thomas McLean, issued
a large number of costume satires in the 1820s. It’s
possible that the lettering on the left, 'Sig.
Pussguttini' could refer to the Italian composer and
violinist Niccolò Paganini (1782-1840), who visited
London in 1831, but it could just be a mocking
reference to a pretentious term for cat guts used
for the violin strings. Regardless of the man’s
identity, the print can be enjoyed as a fashion
satire: since the silliness of the dandified man is
accentuated by his attire. The man wears tight
trousers and dainty slippers; his loose pink tie is
cinched to his waist and hangs below his belt like a
dangling phallus. He stands on tiptoes, playing a
violin and is seemingly oblivious to the noise made
by the tiny, howling dog, and the danger posed by
the candles on his music stand.
10. Thomas Rowlandson (1756-1827)
A French dentist shewing a specimen of artificial
teeth and false palates
Etching with hand colouring, published by Thomas
Tegg, 26 February 1811, plate no. 58; 247 x 272
(plate); 350 x 445 (sheet); BM Satires 11798. From
the Starhemberg collection (see no. 4)
On loan from Andrew Edmunds
9. William Heath (1796-1840)
A desert imitation of modern fashion!
Etching with hand colouring, published by Thomas
McLean c. 1827; 357 x 241 sheet; BM Satires 15611†
Given by the Friends of the Fitzwilliam Museum
2015 (P.199-2015)
Rowlandson started to work for Thomas Tegg in
1807, whose shop on Cheapside specialised in
cheap prints and books. The etchings Rowlandson
produced for Tegg are often grotesque or bawdy,
aimed at a broader audience. This print is a satire
on the French quack Dubois de Chemand, a quack
who brought the innovation of porcelain teeth to
London. Rowlandson proves himself a master of
composition, filling the space with grotesque,
bulging forms and gaping mouths. His view on the
charlatan is encapsulated in the quote on the
Women’s fashion continued to be a source of
humour in the 19th century, when neoclassical
designs gave way to tightly corseted silhouettes
with puffed sleeves. Women wore their hair in
elaborate top knots with wire frames, or under
‘salad plate’ hats festooned with ribbons. William
Heath produced a number of satires on
preposterously dressed men and women from
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placard in the background, ending in the promise
'he also distills'.
Blasphemy (no. 14)
Blasphemy was not the most common complaint
against prints in the 18th century. Gillray was
arrested in 1796 for The Presentation of the Wise
men’s Offering (no. 14), which was deemed
offensive for its ‘blasphemous’ title. In 1817 the
bookseller William Hone was tried for blasphemous
libel for printing a work containing a parody of the
Ten Commandments. In fact, there were more
successful prosecutions against sellers of scurrilous
pamphlets, such as those by the radical Thomas
Paine, rather than caricaturists for their prints, due
to the ambiguous nature of images. It was difficult
to prove whether an artist was being subversive, or
pointing out dangers of subversion to others. Even
the case against Gillray was eventually dropped.
Richard Newton’s employer, the radical publisher
William Holland, got into serious trouble for selling
certain texts. He was targeted by reformers for
publishing erotic material, and in December 1792
he was arrested, fined and imprisoned for selling
Paine’s pamphlet Letter to the Addressers.
11. James Gillray (1757-1815)
The Cow-Pock- or- the Wonderful effects of the
new inoculation!
Etching with hand colouring, published 12 June
1802 by Hannah Humphrey; 250 x 353 (plate),
344 x 492 (plate); BM Satires 9924
Given by Lady Violet Beaumont 1948 (P.593-1948)
Pamphlets on the dangers of vaccinations inspired
Gillray to create this delightfully absurd scene. Dr
Jenner stands at the centre of a room in the
Smallpox and Inoculation Hospital at St Pancras,
treating working-class men and women. On the
right, the patients have begun to sprout miniature
cows from various orifices and swellings; one man
has even grown horns. The inclusion of a painting
on the wall behind, of figures worshipping the
Golden Calf, is an amusing touch Gillray learned
from William Hogarth.
12. George Cruikshank (1792-1878)
Striking effects produced by lines and dots – for the
assistance of young Draftsmen
Etching, published by S.W. Fores 23 September
1817; 258 x 384 (sheet); BM Satires 12957
Given by Rev. Francis and Miss Annora Palgrave
(P.247-1941)
However, graphic artists were not immune from
investigations. In the middle of the century a
number of engravers were questioned as suspected
authors of treasonable pamphlets, or had to
undergo house searches for producing ‘obscene’
prints. This latter misdemeanour was the reason
why the printseller Matthew Darly was called to
face a parliamentary committee in 1749.
A satire on drawing manuals, showing stickmen
inflicting various sorts of violence on one another or
undergoing some misfortune. The first manual for
drawing caricatures, outlining ‘[th]e principles of
Designing in that Droll and pleasing manner,’ was
written by Mary Darly in the early 1760s. The
tradition had arrived in this country as a leisurely
pursuit and amateur draughtsmen and women
were important in establishing its popularity. Many
amateurs sent their ideas and designs to the
professional caricaturists. S.W. Fores advertised on
the bottom of some of the prints issued from his
shop, 'Gentlemens designs [sic] executed gratis'.
Publishers defended their rights of free expression,
especially during periods when governments
tightened control, notably in the 1790s and towards
1820. But political radicalism was rare: caricatures
exploited comic potential in the behaviour of the
members of the Royal Family, or in hypocritical
clergymen, but they did not question, for example,
the right to exist and rule of the institutions of the
crown or the Church. The depended too much on
the custom of the elite members of society who
were part of the establishment
Many artists, including Hogarth, were well aware of
the power of their art, believing that visual satire
had a much more memorable impact than any text.
Or, as Hogarth put it, ‘pictures shadow forth what
cannot be conveyed to the mind with such
precision and truth by any words whatever’.
13. Glen Baxter (b.1944)
I'm afraid it's another Rembrandt
Ink and coloured pencils, 2013; 259 x 390
On loan from the artist
In Baxter’s drawings the play between caption and
image is central to the joke. Caption and image
work in tandem to create a humorous non-sequitur
(a Latin term meaning ‘it does not follow’). The joke
has no explanation, or rather, the caption explains
the scene, but it is utterly absurd. Often Baxter’s
images are ‘straight’, i.e. not inherently amusing in
themselves, which intensifies the humour. In this
instance, a Native American is leading a group of
cowboys on an undisclosed mission in a desert;
they have just discovered, to their disappointment,
yet another unwanted Rembrandt.
14. James Gillray (1757-1815)
The presentation –or- The wise men’s offering
Etching with hand colouring, published 9 Jan 1796
by Hannah Humphrey; 245 x 349 (plate); BM
Satires 8779
Given by Lady Violet Beaumont 1948 (P.370-1948)
Gillray was charged with blasphemy for this
depiction of the leaders of the Whig party (Fox and
Sheridan) kissing the bottom of Princess Charlotte
in front of the Prince of Wales (later George IV). It
was more common for publishers to face
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prosecution than printmakers, since it was easier to
find fault with words than images. The charges
against Gillray were dropped, and it is thought that
it was all a ruse to bring him on side with the
Tories. George Canning, who had been courting
Gillray for months to get included in a caricature,
was instrumental in the collapse of charges. Gillray
switched allegiance in 1798 on the pretext that the
Opposition no longer had money to buy his prints.
tipped with venom from one of the snakes of his
muse, Alecto.
16. William Hogarth (1697-1764)
The first stage of cruelty
Etching and engraving, plate 1 from ‘The Four
Stages of Cruelty’, published 1 Feb. 1751; 385 x 318
(sheet); BM Satires 3147
Founder's bequest 1816 (22.K.3-36)
This is the first plate (of four) from the set The Four
Stages of Cruelty. Didactic in tone, the series is also
darkly humorous. It relates the story of Tom Nero, a
pauper from the parish of St Giles, who comes to
no good, starting life torturing helpless animals and
ending up as a highway man and murderer.
Hogarth priced the sheets at one shilling each,
hoping they would appeal to a wide audience, and
dissuade people from ‘that cruel treatment of poor
Animals … the very describing of which gives pain’.
In other words, the sight of the children
entertaining themselves in this way was meant to
inspire revulsion, not laughter.
Vitriolic/ dark humour (nos. 15- 18)
Artists working in the tradition of satire and
caricature are not always funny. On this wall are
two examples of James Gillray’s particularly savage
satires, and William Hogarth’s brand of moralising
humour from the series Four Stages of Cruelty.
Hogarth was one of many who had strong opinions
on what should and should not be laughed at.
Writer and politician Joseph Addison (1672-1719)
had said that someone with such an ‘ungenerous
spirit’ to countenance a personal attack was ‘one of
the most mischievous individuals that can enter
society’. Hogarth largely agreed with this sentiment,
that it was – in the words of Eliza Haywood in her
journal The Female Spectator - necessary to
‘lampoon vice, not the person’, although he
produced vicious caricatures when he was
especially annoyed, portraying John Wilkes with a
devastating squint, for example, in 1763. Gillray
clearly disagreed, siding with those who thought
that it was acceptable and important to expose
public enemies
17. William Hogarth (1697-1764)
The reward of cruelty
Etching and engraving, plate 4 from ‘The Four
Stages of Cruelty’, published 1 February 1751; 387 x
319 (sheet); BM Satires 3166
Founder’s bequest 1816 (23.K.3-39)
In the final scene from the series Hogarth chose
the interior of the Surgeons’ Hall. Tom Nero has
been hanged for the murder of his pregnant lover
Ann Gill, and his cruelties are now mirrored and
continued by the State, in the form of cold-blooded
surgeons. Tom’s corpse appears to be grimacing in
pain as the men get to work on his eye sockets,
stomach and ankles. A dog starts to lick his heart,
echoing the dog eating a cat alive in the first plate
(no. 16).
However dissimilar in intention, both Hogarth and
Gillray were motivated to cause damage. In
Hogarth’s case it was to shock people into realising
the wrong of carrying out cruelty to animals (he
failed: acts of Parliament prohibiting cruelty to
animals did not pass until 1822 and 1835); Gillray
went to the trouble of producing such elaborate
and expensive prints in order to ridicule personal
enemies and damage their reputations, proving that
there is no fury like a caricaturist scorned.
Hogarth commissioned woodcuts versions of the
set in the hope they would reach an even wider
audience, but the project was not economically
viable and only the third and fourth scenes were
completed.
15. James Gillray (1757-1815)
Lieut Goverr Gall-stone, inspired by Alecto; -orThe birth of Minerva
Etching and aquatint, published 15 Feb 1790 by
Hannah Humphrey; 535 x 397 (plate); BM Satires
7721
Given by Lady Violet Beaumont 1948 (P.227-1948)
18. James Gillray (1757-1815)
Titianus redivivus; -or- the seven wise men
consulting the new Venetian oracle
Etching and aquatint with hand colouring,
published by Hannah Humphrey, 2 November
1797; 535 x 397; BM Satires 7584
Given by Lady Violet Beaumont 1948 (P.224-1948)
Lieutenant-Governor Philip Thicknesse (1719-92)
was a polemical figure who quarrelled with almost
everybody. Some opponents probably helped
Gillray with this design, once described as ‘one of
the most sustained, complex and savage visual
attacks ever sustained by a single individual’.
Thicknesse (not caricatured) is shown surrounded
by demons and books, symbolising his myriad
obsessions, quarrels and literary outrages, his pen
In 1795 Ann Provis, a young student of painting,
conned several Royal Academicians out of 10
guineas for revealing the long-lost secret to
Venetian Masters’ colouring that she claimed to
have found in a manuscript. GiIllray portrays the
artists as gullible fools, mumbling about their
insecurities and hoping the secret will solve
everything. He felt bitterly towards the Academy,
6
having studied engraving there but receiving few
commissions. The name of his old tutor, Francesco
Bartolozzi, is one of those on the portfolio urinated
upon by a simian creature.
became a huge fan (see his caricature ‘timeline’, no.
36).
20. Richard Newton (1777-1798)
‘Madamoiselle Parisot’
Etching with hand colouring, published by William
Holland, c.1796; 263 x 345 (sheet trimmed);
Alexander 231; BM Satires 8893
On loan form Benjamin Lemer
Bawdy humour (nos. 19, 20 and 29)
This section looks at sexual humour rather than
sex, although Rowlandson was not the only artist of
his era to produce erotic prints. Humorously
indecent prints abounded in the 18th century.
Francis Grose included an example in his book,
Rules for drawings Caricaturas, pointing out the
comic potential in the mismatch of a Methodist in
a brothel, although he thought this imagining could
be improved with a bit of ‘social justice, or due
punishment, for [his] acting our of [his] proper
spheres’, by capturing him having his pocket
picked. Some saw the naming of adulterers in an
amusing manner as one of the functions of satire,
to uncover and label corruption. The examples in
this exhibition do not display that level of
condemnation, especially those by Rowlandson.
They are what the art historical Vic Gatrell has
called, ‘smiling satires’ that are ‘so genial that they
may be said to have celebrated rather than
castigated the errors they exposed’.
Newton excelled at bawdy, burlesque humour, his
bold forms suiting this kind of direct, immediate
comedy. Parisot was a young French dancer who
appeared on London stages in 1796. This print is
interesting because the joke is not on the dancer,
but on the men in the box on the left. Parisot is
portrayed wearing a dress with a revealing
décolletage but without any physical caricature,
demurely carrying out an arabesque. The
motivations of the generic clergyman and the
notoriously lecherous Duke of Queensbury for
attending are made abundantly clear: it is precisely
this moment they have been waiting for.
29. Thomas Rowlandson (1756-1827)
The Swing (Rural sports - or how to shew off a
well-shaped leg)
Graphite, pen and ink and watercolour
strengthened with vermilion ink, c.1790/1799; 284
x 430
Bequeathed by Charles Haslewood Shannon 1937
(2161)
Despite training at the Royal Academy, Rowlandson
excelled at ‘low’ humour, producing a great many
prints on themes of seduction or attempted
seduction and voyeurism. These sorts of subjects
were not considered suitable entertainment for
polite company, but the rich tradition of prints
showing whoring and lust demonstrates that there
were enough members of society who engaged in
‘coarse’ activities to find their portrayal in graphic
form amusing.
Rowlandson often depicted pretty girls as the
subject of male attention. This drawing, which was
published as an etching in 1786, is a humorous
parody of Jean-Honoré Fragonard’s playfully erotic
painting The Swing, in which a young woman on a
swing extends a leg for the benefit of a courtier
watching her on the ground below. In Rowlandson’s
design the courtier is replaced by a gaggle of
excited old men and a small dog. There are other
humorous touches, such as the man with a wooden
leg using his crutch to prod the backside of a
woman trying to cross a stile.
It is Richard Newton’s sheer youth that influences
his particular brand of rather innocent lewd
comedy. There are many wonderful instances in his
prints of what David Alexander - Honorary Keeper
of British prints at the Fitzwilliam Museum, who
produced the first monograph on Newton - called
‘schoolboyish’ humour.
19. Richard Newton (1777-1798)
Which way shall I turn me?
Etching with hand colouring, published by William
Holland, 1 July 1794; 246 x 265 (plate), 306 x 326
(sheet); Alexander 129
On loan from Benjamin Lemer
Scatology (nos. 21-22 & 30-31)
Many people thought that laughter was best
provoked by being ‘laughable in word’, rather than
‘laughable in deed’, i.e. word plays and puns were
preferable to personal mishaps or reverting to using
people’s private parts or their functions. This was
the sort of humour – if he would dignify it with that
term – which Lord Chesterfield considered
inappropriate.
His
thoughts
on
the
inappropriateness of laughter in general were
written in a letter to his son (and posthumously
published in 1774). He advised that while it was
acceptable to smile, his son should never be heard
to laugh: ‘Frequent and loud laughter is the
characteristic of folly and ill manners: it is the
manner in which the mob express their silly joy at
Newton was an extremely talented comic artist, but
he died very young and his puerile jokes were not
appreciated in the 19th century. He remained
forgotten until 1943, when seven of his prints were
included in an exhibition curated by the art
historian F D Klingender, who described him as
‘brilliantly gifted, original and prolific’. This title,
inspired by a line in A Beggar’s Opera, and showing
a clergyman suffering a dilemma of choice, was one
of the prints in the exhibition. Ronald Searle
7
silly things; and they call it being merry ... It is low
buffoonery, or silly accidents, that always excite
laughter'.
Etching with hand colouring, published by William
Holland 10 November 1796; 248 x 350 (plate), 250
x 350 (sheet); Alexander 224. From the
Starhemberg collection (see no. 4)
On loan from Andrew Edmunds
But the prevalence in the 18th century of immodest
types of humour, whether of a sexual nature, or
deriving from toilet jokes, shows that they thrived.
Furthermore, it is evidence that it was appealing to
enough of the wealthy elite who purchased the
prints and books to be commercially viable.
Scatological imagery (defecating,
urinating,
breaking wind) abounds in Jonathan Swift’s
Gulliver’s Travels, and it was reprinted several times
following its initial publication in 1726.
The comedy in this print lies primarily in the
figures’ expressions and the contrast between
them. The rosy-cheeked French woman smiles
sweetly at John Bull, the English everyman, as she
lifts up her skirts to urinate in the street; with a
characteristic Newton down-turned mouth, John
Bull stares jaw-dropped in speechless wonderment
(the words ‘O fie for shame!’ have been added in
ink). The defecating Frenchman, eyes closed in
concentration, and the English and French dogs
eyeing each other, add to the comedy.
Artists used figures defecating to indicate
aggression or cowardice, and as a sort of social
commentary (the customs of different nationalities,
see no. 22); figures breaking wind conveyed
contempt or defiance (by aiming their farts in a
specific direction). In 1783 Charles James Fox, of
the Whig party, used the theme to attack Edward
Thurlow (portrayed by Gillray in no. 27) in his
anonymously published Essay upon Wind:
30. Thomas Rowlandson (1756-1827)
Disturbed
Black ink strengthened in places with vermilion,
watercolour and grey washes over traces of
graphite; 266 x 203
Bequeathed by Charles Haslewood Shannon 1937
(2163)
Fame, my Lord, with her shrill loud trumpet,
reports that Your Lordship's farts are as
STRONG, and as SOUND, as your arguments as VIGOROUS as your intellects - as FORCIBLE
as your language - as BRILLIANT as your wit and as SONOROUS and MUSICAL as Your
Lordship's voice... May Your Lordship continue
to fart like an ancient Grecian for many years.
Rowlandson had learned from Hogarth the
potential of close observation of London street life,
but he was not interested in perpetuating Hogarth’s
didactic point scoring. What fascinated him was the
comic potential of disaster, which urban living
provided in spades. Here, he records - without
judgment - the moment when a woman
unceremoniously empties a chamber pot (a bowl
used for urine and excreta) out of an upstairs
window onto the street, soaking a man below; the
sudden confusion has made his small dog dart
under his legs, causing him to stumble
It was not suitable for polite company, but
scatological humour was prominent until its demise
amid the growing respectability of the 19th century.
As with lewd, sexual puns, it remains a matter of
taste today, but ignoring its existence would mean
overlooking a significant chapter of the history of
humour.
31. James Gillray (1757-1815)
The coming-on of the monsoons
Etching with hand colouring, published 6 Dec 1791
by Hannah Humphrey; 223 x 261 (plate), 273 x 313
(sheet); BM Satires 7929
Given by Lady Violet Beaumont 1948 (P.246-1948)
21. Thomas Rowlandson (1756-1827)
Sympathy, or a family on a journey laying the dust
Etching, published by William Humphrey [1785]
(first published by S Hedges, 12 July 1784); 250 x
287 (plate), 329 x 395 (sheet); BM Satires 8250
On loan from Andrew Edmunds
Figures urinating, farting or defecating often feature
in caricatures to express fear, aggression, contempt
or defiance, particularly in subjects with a military
connection. Here the Sultan Tipu urinates
impressively (no hands!) over Charles Cornwallis,
representing the British forces. In 1840 the
publisher Henry Bohn acquired plates by Gillray
and reissued them. Around forty were considered
too offensive to Victorian sensibilities, and were
issued separately, uncoloured (the so-called
‘Suppressed Plates’)
Comedy in Rowlandson's prints and drawings
ranges from gentle, burlesque to hard-hitting satire.
He was a keen observer and found humour
everywhere he looked. The print is more humorous
for being executed ad vivum (‘from life’). Free from
extensive lettering or moralising tone, the humour
is visual, with the addition of an ironic title.
Uncoloured impressions of the print are more
amusing because of their subtlety: the viewer sees
the horses’ heavy streams of urine first, before
realising that all the figures are similarly relieving
themselves.
Word play (nos. 23-28, 32-33)
We tend to think of caricature as a visual medium
but it is often also a textual one which features an
abundance of words and delights in allusions to and
parodies of literature. Quotations from writers such
as Shakespeare, Milton, Dryden, and Swift were
22. Richard Newton (1777-1798)
John Bull in Paris, between a shower and a stink
8
especially common in the 18th century, and the
uses to which graphic satirists put these classic
literary texts were neither superficial nor simple.
Charles Lamb’s assessment of William Hogarth –
‘Other pictures we look at but his we read’ – is
equally true of his successors: Thomas Rowlandson
and, more especially, James Gillray.
24. James Gillray (1757-1815)
Political ravishment, or the old lady of
Threadneedle-street in danger!
Etching with hand colouring, published by Hannah
Humphrey, 22 May 1797; 257 x 288 (plate), 362 x
395 (sheet); BM Satires9016
Given by Lady Violet Beaumont 1948 (P.424-1948)
The relationship between image and text in
caricatures by these artists is complex. Titles,
subtitles, speech bubbles, and epigraphs do more
than just complement or reinforce the iconographic
dimensions of a print; often satire emerges
precisely from the ironic contrast or incongruity of
visual and verbal elements. Quite deliberately, word
and image don’t quite match.
Gillray’s surviving drawings reveal that he worked
on a caricature’s title as he was sketching: the
verbal and visual aspects of his designs evolved
together. In this print, Gillray is thought to have
coined the nickname for the Bank of England,
inspired by Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s reference to
the bank as an ‘old woman’, courted by Prime
Minister William Pitt. Gillray has depicted the
female personification sitting on a padlocked chest
and wearing a costume of paper money; Pitt’s
‘courtship’ is interpreted as molestation.
Beyond quotation, caricaturists often reworked
particular scenes from works such as Macbeth and
Paradise Lost, casting prominent public figures as
well-known literary characters. In doing so, they
gave a narrative form – a sense of beginning,
middle, and end – and also a degree of moral
structure to the otherwise slippery and chaotic
world of politics. But if literary parody of this kind
helped to make political events, ideals, and
personalities more legible for the caricature’s public
then it also reminds us just who this public was.
Caricatures of the 18th century appealed to the
educated eye. They demanded a deep and ready
knowledge of literature and the arts, and rewarded
the careful attention of the well-read viewer. As
novelist Maria Edgeworth wrote in 1816: ‘part of the
pleasure we take in parody arises from the selfapprobation we feel from our own quickness in
discovering the resemblances, and in recollecting
the passages alluded to’. In their often selfconscious literariness, caricatures flattered those
who had the skills and the knowledge to
understand them.
Dr. David Taylor
25. Richard Newton (1777-1798)
Parsons drowning care
Etching with hand colouring, published by William
Holland, 10 November 1796; 249 x 359 (plate), 350
x 360 (sheet); Alexander 225. From the
Starhemberg collection (see no. 4)
On loan from Andrew Edmunds
Newton seemed to have delighted in verbal and
visual puns, since a number of prints derive from
curious phrases. In this print Newton plays on the
phrase ‘drowning care’ (i.e. to drown sorrows with
alcohol). A group of clergymen are forcing an old
man, the embodiment of Care, into an oversized
bowl of brown liquid. Far from being miserable, the
parsons’ expressions range from carefree to angry.
Other caricaturists including Gillray also portrayed
Care as a wizened old man, but Newton’s image is
the most successful because of the menacing
clergymen.
26. Glen Baxter (b.1944)
I could see clearly he had nothing to say
Ink and coloured pencil, 2014; 390 x 295 (sheet)
On loan from the artist
23. James Gillray (1757-1815)
The vulture of the constitution
Etching and aquatint with colouring, published 3
Jan. 1789 by Hannah Humphrey; 256 x 274 (plate),
350 x 377 (sheet); BM Satires 7478
Given by Lady Violet Beaumont 1948 (P.241-1948)
Many of Baxter’s images are not amusing in
themselves, but they become funny when viewed
with the integral dead-pan captions. In this
drawing, Baxter pokes fun at the artifice of the
image: the joke centres on the presence of an
empty speech bubble. As is often the case in
Baxter’s work, his captions feature carefully chosen
adverbs. Obviously, we do not ‘see’ speech bubbles
– clearly or otherwise
Gillray merges the caricature tradition with an
earlier form of graphic satire. There were often
highly complex designs that relied on emblems
(images with symbolic or allegorical value used to
communicate a lesson). William Pitt, transformed
into a vulture to symbolise greed, is seated on top
of a crown signifying the royal family; one talon is
outstretched to a small crown, allowing Pitt to
pluck out the feathers of the Prince of Wales. The
Magna Carta lies on the ground, torn. It is a satire
on Pitt’s rapaciousness during the illness of the
King, known as the Regency Crisis.
There are two examples of Baxter's particular brand
of comedy in the exhibition; for an example of his
absurdist, surreal humour, see no. 13.
27. James Gillray (1757-1815)
Sin, Death and the Devil. vide Milton
9
Etching with hand colouring, published by Hannah
Humphrey, 9 June 1792; 318 x 403 (plate); BM
Satires 8015
Given by Lady Violet Beaumont 1948 (P.278-1948)
32. James Gillray (1757-1815)
The minister endeavouring to eke out Dr Pr*ty***n’s
Bisho-prick.
Etching and aquatint, published by R. Phillips,
March 1787; 329 x 243 (sheet); BM Satires 7146
Given by Lady Violet Beaumont 1948 (P.188-1948)
In June 1792 Edward Thurlow was dismissed as Lord
Chancellor, having become increasingly critical of
Pitt the Younger’s government. Gillray responds to
Thurlow’s downfall in an elaborate parody of Book
2 of John Milton’s epic poem Paradise Lost.
Reworking the scene in which Satan is confronted
at the Gates of Hell by the allegorical figures of Sin
(his daughter) and Death (his son, borne of his
incestuous rape of Sin) – and also adapting William
Hogarth’s earlier oil sketch of this episode (c. 173540), Gillray casts Thurlow, Pitt, and Queen
Charlotte as Satan, Death, and Sin respectively.
More than Thurlow’s sudden fall from grace or Pitt’s
ambition (note that he wears Death’s crown),
Gillray suggests that the Prime Minister and Queen
– whose hand tellingly covers Pitt’s genitalia – are
sexually involved, something at which he hints in a
number of prints from this period.
Here Gillray attacks Prime Minister William Pitt for
bestowing two ecclesiastical offices upon his friend
and Cambridge tutor, Dr George Pretyman. Gillray
excelled at double-edged satires: the crude sexual
pun in the title was probably Gillray's attempt to
embarrass fellow caricaturist James Sayers, who was
in Pitt's pay. He imitated Sayers’s style and signed
the print ‘JS’. When Gillray’s plates were reissued by
Henry Bohn around 1850 this became one of the
indecent 'Suppressed Plates' (see also no. 31).
33. James Gillray (1757-1815)
Sir Richard Worse-than-Sly, exposing his wifes
bottom; O Fye!
Etching, published by H. Brown, 14 March 1782;
346 x 251 (sheet); BM Satires 6109
Given by Lady Violet Beaumont 1948 (P.162-1948)
Beyond this satire of current affairs, Gillray’s
caricature also targets printseller John Boydell and
the painter Henry Fuseli. In September 1791 Fuseli
and the publisher Joseph Johnson published their
prospectus for an illustrated edition of Milton’s
works along with an accompanying Gallery – a
project modelled on Boydell’s Shakespeare Gallery,
which had opened on Pall Mall in 1789. Not to be
outdone at his own game, Boydell quickly
published a prospectus for a rival edition of Milton.
Sin, Death and the Devil responds directly and
caustically to these projects, as an ironic note along
the inside bottom edge of the print makes clear:
“NB: The above performance containing Portraits of
the Devil & his Relatives, drawn from the Life, is
recommended to Messrs Boydell, Fuselli & the rest
of the Proprietors of the Three Hundred & Sixty
Five Editions of Milton now publishing, as necessary
to be adopted, in their classick Embellishments.'
Dr. David Taylor
In 1782 Lord Worsley sued his friend Captain Bisset
for ‘criminal conversation’ with his wife - the two of
them having eloped. The ensuing court case
revealed that Worsley had encouraged the two to
become lovers (he had even hoisted Bisset on his
shoulders to peer at his wife in a bathhouse).
Moreover, he had encouraged her to sleep with
dozens of men besides Bisset. Gillray lampoons
Worsley’s hypocrisy with the pun in this print’s title.
He produced one other caricature portraying Lady
Worsley in bed with one lover and a line of suitors
queuing on a staircase.
34. James Gillray (1757-1815)
Wierd-sisters; ministers of darkness; minions of the
moon
Etching and aquatint with hand colouring,
published by Hannah Humphrey, 23 December
1791; 253 x 350 (plate), 266 x 352 (sheet); BM
Satires 7937
Given by Lady Violet Beaumont 1948 (P.248-1948)
28. James Gillray (1757-1815)
Diana return’d from the chace
Etching and aquatint with hand colouring,
published by Hannah Humphrey, 16 Mar 1802; 362
x 257 (plate), 492 x 329 (sheet); BM Satires 9908
Given by Lady Violet Beaumont 1948 (P.597-1948)
In a late response to the Regency Crisis – caused by
the King’s seeming insanity in 1788-9 – Gillray
depicts the home secretary Henry Dundas and the
Lord Chancellor Edward Thurlow either side of Pitt
the Younger as the witches of Henry Fuseli’s iconic
painting of Act 1 Scene 3 (1783). Gillray invokes
Shakespeare’s “weird sisters” as an image of
conspiracy and suggests that the ministerial trio
seek self-servingly to safeguard George III’s throne,
and so guarantee their own parliamentary
ascendancy, regardless of the constitutional
ramifications of the King’s fragile mental health.
Pitt, Dundas, and Thurlow gaze anxiously towards
the illuminated crescent of the moon, which carries
the profile of Queen Charlotte and which in turn
encloses the darkened, slumbering head of George
III. Gillray at once visually puns on the King’s
In this caricature, engraved after a design by an
amateur, Gillray shows Lady Salisbury – a renowned
hunter – bedraggled but triumphant at the close of
a foxhunt, and having outstripped her own hounds.
The print’s title, which compares Lady Salisbury to
Diana, the beautiful Roman Goddess of the hunt, is
ironic: the image mocks her as a wild, inelegant,
and all-too masculine woman. This implication is
borne out by the epigraph from Dryden’s
translation of Virgil’s Aeneid, which offers a
description of the ferocious female warrior Camilla
of the Volsci.
Dr. David Taylor
10
36a William Hogarth (CM.388-2014)
36b James Gillray (CM.378-2014)
36c Thomas Rowlandson (CM.382-2014)
Struck bronze medals by the Monnaie de Paris
1976-77, 85mm diameter
Given by the artist’s family 2014
'lunacy' and also implies that the Queen now
controls the throne.
For all its striking visual parody, the caricature is
textually complex. Gillray includes Gillray’s mock
dedication to Fuseli at the top of the print – 'To H:
Fuzelli Esqr this attempt in the Caricatura-Sublime,
is respectfully dedicated' – and in epigraph at the
foot of his design also quotes Banquo’s description
of the witches’ ghastly appearance: 'They should be
Women! – and yet their beards forbid us to
interpret, – that they are so' (1.3.45-7). That is,
Gillray’s satire emasculates the three statesmen;
they are men of uncertain gender, men who would
be ruled by a woman (the Queen). Finally, Gillray’s
subtitle cites Falstaff’s distinction in Shakespeare’s
Henry IV Part 1 between 'gentlemen of the shade,
minions of the moon' and 'men of good
government', the inference being that Pitt and co.
represent bad government.
These medals belong to a set called Six Fathers of
Caricature, which was commissioned by the French
Mint, following Searle’s major retrospective at the
Bibliothèque Nationale de France, the first nonFrench living artist to receive this honour. The other
three artists commemorated in the set are Annibale
Carracci, Pier Leone Ghezzi and George
Cruikshank
The ‘Hogarth’ medal is shown to display the
reverse, where Searle has portrayed the artist as he
appears in his self portrait, Hogarth Painting the
Comic Muse (c.1757); for the reverse of the ‘Gillray’
medal, Searle imagined him as an ‘avenging angel’
(in one of his preparatory sketches he drew Gillray
with wings); for the obverse of the ‘Rowlandson’
medal, Searle drew ‘Rowly’ carrying out
observational sketches.
Dr. David Taylor
35. Thomas Rowlandson (1756-1827)
A covent garden night mare
Etching, published by William Humphrey, 20 April
1784; 248 x 274 (plate), 352 x 382 (sheet); BM
Satires 6543. From the Starhemberg collection.
On loan from Andrew Edmunds
Struck bronze and copper medals
Given by the artist’s family 2014
36d Romeyn de Hooghe (CM.397-2014)
36e Charles Philipon (CM.395-2014)
36f
Francis Grose (CM.396-2014)
Like Gillray, Rowlandson’s parody of Henry Fuseli’s
sexually charged painting, Nightmare (1782) shows
him to be adept at turning the sublime and
fantastical vocabulary of Gothic art and literature to
satirical effect. He replaces the beautiful female
figure at the centre of the original picture with that
of the stocky and dissolute Charles James Fox, the
Whig leader then involved in the heated
Westminster election campaign. As is suggested by
the dice and dicebox on his bedside table, Fox’s
bad dreams are the result of his sizeable gambling
debts.
Dr. David Taylor
Following the Six Fathers of Caricature commission
(see 36 a, b & c), Searle made further, more
adventurous designs for medals. Many of those
whom he selected were artists he had also written
about in short articles that were translated and
published episodically as short articles in the
French journal Le Club français de la Médaille
between 1975-81.
The image below shows the reverse of the medal of
Francis Grose, on which Searle has reproduced one
of the illustrations in Grose's book Rules for
drawings Caricaturas (1788). Grose had strict ideas
about the way a person's face should be
caricatured: ‘Convex faces, prominent features, and
large aquiline noses, though differing much from
beauty, still give an air of dignity to their owner;
whereas concave faces, flat, snub or broken noses,
always stamp a meanness and vulgarity’.
36. Ronald Searle (1920-2011)
Caricature timeline
Graphite, pen and coloured inks, biro and felt tip;
281 x 435
Fitzwilliam Museum archive
Searle probably plotted this timeline in the early
1970s when he was writing a history of satire (see
the medals to the left). Searle plotted the tradition
back from Private Eye to William Hogarth, calling
caricature a ‘vigorous political weapon’ under
Hogarth, Gillray and Rowlandson. Richard Newton
(nos. 4, 19, 20 & 22), one of Searle’s favourite
artists, appears under ‘Minors and curiosities’. Searle
always said he felt a closer affinity to Rowlandson,
admiring his honesty and believing that something
of the artist’s personality, his broad humour and
tolerant outlook, manifested itself in his bounding,
flowing lines.
Ronald Searle (1920-2011)
11
CM.396-2014 (reverse)
12