ff the use
of Sugar" (1792), are all directed against the reigning House, and
allude frequently to the parsimonious habits of George III. and his
Queen. The story goes that this monarch, having remarked of Gillray's
drawings, "I don't understand these caricatures," the artist drew him
("A Connoisseur Examining a Cooper," 1792) studying minutely with a
glass the miniature of Oliver Cromwell, remarking at the time: "I wonder
if the Royal Connoisseur will understand this?"

But if the economy of the King was a subject for his satire, the
opposite qualities in the Prince of Wales met with as little mercy. "The
Voluptuary under the Horrors of Digestion" (1792) gives a very clever
treatment of this latter theme; and in a "Morning after Marriage, or a
Scene upon the Continent," we seem to find the same distinguished
person, with a lady who may be the charming Mrs. Fitzherbert.

About this period, too, Lord Thurlow, in a "Westminster Hunt" (1788) and
"Market Day" (also 1788, where the motto, "Every man his price," seems
aimed at the fat kine of the House of Commons), is not forgotten; while
in "Dido Forsaken," where the Queen of France stands deserted and
desperate on her own shores, and Fox and his friends in a row-boat are
steering for Dover Castle with the remark, "I never saw her in my life!"
("No! never in his life, damme!" adds Fox at the rudder), we seem to be
already getting drawn into the maeelstrom of the French Revolution.
Perhaps to the average student the period of Gillray's work which we are
here approaching will be of most interest, because a fairly exact
knowledge of English party politics is necessary to follow with
enjoyment his earlier prints on home affairs. Gillray had treated a
French subject with success in his amusing "Landing of Sir John Bull and
his Family at Boulogne-sur-Mer," which recalls Bunbury to our thought
both in its humour and treatment. This latter artist had thoroughly
appreciated James Gillray's genius, and said of his great contemporary
that "he was a living folio, every page of which abounded with wit."

Following the order of time, which is perhaps our safest guide, "The
Bengal Levee" is a large print, full of clever portraits, "made on the
spot by an Amateur"; and "The Dagger Scene, or the Plot discovered," is
a political print which must not be omitted. But now we find ourselves
suddenly launched into the midst of the French Revolution in "French
Liberty and British Slavery" (showin