I propose in this chapter to give a few more specimens of these curious adapted plates.

Many examples of reheaded statues and adapted portraits lie around us. Mr. Augustus Hare tells of a rep­re­sen­ta­tion of Lady Georgina Fane in Brympton Church, which consists of the head of {227} that ready-witted lady “added to the body of an ancestress who was headless,” whilst any visitor to Yarmouth Church, Isle of Wight, may see the imposing marble effigy of Admiral Sir Robert Holmes, which consists of the head of that gallant sailor surmounting the body of Louis XIV. It appears that Sir Robert, having captured the vessel in which the Italian-made torso of the Grand Monarque was being conveyed to France for the modelling of the head, retained the unfinished work and crowned it with his own august features—a good example of the resourcefulness of the English character.

Again, Macaulay, enlarging upon the popularity of Frederick the Great in England, tells how at one time enthusiasm reached such a height that the sign-painters were everywhere employed in touching up the portraits of Admiral Vernon, which hung outside innumerable public-houses, into the likeness of the King of Prussia, a curious commentary, by the way, on the family motto, “Ver non semper virit.”43 Further, it is on record {228} that after Trafalgar such was Nelson’s popularity, that Daniel Orme, engraver to George III., bought a plate of Napoleon at the sale of a Ludgate Hill printseller’s effects, and altered it into a portrait of our national hero.

Examples such as these might be multiplied, but here are enough for our purpose. They show that the systematic practice of copperplate adaptation has its counterpart in other departments of art.

We will now consider a curious broadside {230} published about the year 1688, the copperplate heading of which was destined to be seized upon and adapted to other purposes nearly twenty years later by the piratical publisher referred to in the last chapter.

As will be seen from our re­pro­duc­tion, its letterpress is addressed, “Aan der Meester Tonge-Slyper” (“To the Master Tongue Grinder”). The engraver’s name does not appear, but the work is easily dis­tin­guished as that of Jean Bollard, by comparing it with other signed engravings of the same series of pictorial satires.

Two men at a grindstone sharpen a tongue, Another tongue lies on the anvil. Two labourers empty a large hamper of tongues into a basket, which is steadied by a woman. Point is given to the picture by the gossiping groups seen through the door and window, and especially by the two Xantippes who, with arms akimbo, are slanging each other in good earnest.

The doggerel letterpress refers to the birth of the Old Pretender, and the mendacious tongues of the conspirators are being delivered to the smith to be coerced into speaking the truth. {231}

Here is a free translation of the passage, beginning “Heden zyn my over London”:—

“To-day I received from London a cargo of those goods which you have to take in hand; I have some of the biggest size, The Admiral of the First Flag, which has been used so much and has become black from lying, and which, after all appearances, seems to have had his end bitten off; scrape thoroughly his thick skin or he will be up to anything; swearing oaths, breaking bonds, falsely protecting the Church is his daily work.”

And so on, until it ends with the moral:—

So much for the plate in its first state. In its second we find it published seventeen years later, and somewhat ingeniously adapted to the new exigencies. It now takes its place in the armoury of the anti-Jesuits, and is published without any acknowledgment in the pamphlet, entitled Roma Pertubata Ofte’t Beroerde Romen, etc., etc., referred to in the last chapter. This pamphlet, which is a very warren of palimpsest plates (it has at least four, and possibly there are others), may {232} be seen in the print-room of the British Museum. It may, too, as I have myself proved, be discovered at rare intervals in the shops of the old printsellers in Holland. Mine is in a parti-coloured paper wrapper, whether as issued or added later I cannot say. It consists of title-page, table of contents, and eleven full-page copperplate engravings of ex­traor­di­nary interest. Curiously enough, the table of contents makes no reference to the eleventh and last. Our palimpsest is number 9.44

In its new surroundings it has (vide re­pro­duc­tion) been divorced from its letterpress, and been cut away at the bottom. A descriptive panel has been engraved over the doorway, and other lettering added here and there. The pub­li­ca­tion line, “tot Tongeren by J: la Langue,” apparently a bogus one, playing on the words of the original, “à Langres chez Tongelel,” now appears within the border of the design.

The tongue which lies on the anvil is now pierced by the seven heraldic arrows of the Dutch Provinces, and words are engraved below to the {233} effect that “There is no worse evil than that a Pope’s tongue dares slander the State,” and on the base of the anvil, “He has given way to slander. You must forge him before you grind him.”

Below the quarrelling women are the words: “These maids are quarrelling for de Kok,” referring to scandals which were afloat concerning the morality of the Pope’s vicar-general, and a Latin chronograph appears at the feet of the chief smith.

The inscription over the door gives directions to “The Romish Dutch Grinder of Tongues,” and, amongst other things, says of the tongue on the anvil, “That is de Kok’s tongue, wounded by seven arrows, because he has slandered the State by his speech,” which statement hardly tallies with the inscription on the anvil, unless the vicar-general may be regarded as the very mouthpiece of the Pope.

This is no place, as I have said, to enlarge upon the Jansenist propagandum, but it will well repay the enthusiastic historian to follow out the above allusions to their original source.

So much for our adapted broadside.

I would ask you now to look at the two prints entitled respectively “The Stature of a Great Man, or the English Colossus,” and “The Stature of a Great Man, or the SCOTCH Colossus.”

The first, dated 1740, represents Sir Robert Walpole, then in the plenitude of his power. He stands on two woolpacks. Between his legs is seen the British fleet lying inactive. He is flanked by Marines on the left crying “Let us fight,” and sailors with drawn swords on the right declaring their readiness to die “Pro Patriâ.” The plate teems with allusions to his reluctance to go to war, by which he was subjecting his country to the insults and aggressions of Spain and France.

Twenty-two years later the plate was resurrected and altered to its second state, in which it is made to represent Lord Bute. The lower part of the plate, bearing the quotation from Shakespeare and the “Description,” has been now cut away, and “Scotch” inserted in the place of “English” in the title. The chief alterations are the reduction of the full-bottomed wig and the addition of a wig-tie of black ribbon, the addition {237} of a star on the breast, and a new and abusive inscription on the right-hand document. In this case the adapter has shown but little ingenuity.

We will now turn to a far more elaborate example, which, in its first state, as will be seen in the re­pro­duc­tion, represents Queen Anne presiding in state over the House of Lords. The plate is etched by Romeyn de Hooghe.

At the top of the picture, between female figures representing Plenty and War, is suspended a cloth, on which the Queen is shown presiding over the House of Commons. At her side sits Prince George of Denmark. The whole is surmounted by the words, “Het Hoog en Lager Huys van Engeland.” Left and right of the cloth are scrolls bearing the legends, “Hinc gloria regni” and “Hinc felicitas publica.”

At the base of the plate are two small self-contained etchings. That on the left shows the heralds proclaiming the Queen; that on the right shows Her Majesty sitting in Council. Between these are inscribed the following words:—

The main design is crowded with details and figures of the utmost interest, any description of which is forbidden by the space at my disposal. The artist’s signature is to be seen on the floor of the Hall.

Thirteen years were now to elapse before it was transformed into the glorification of George I. The King now takes the place of the late Queen in the House of Lords. The throne in the House of Commons is vacant. The inscription on the cloth has been re-engraved, and “Engeland” changed to “Engelandt.” The title and the panels at the bottom of the plate have been cut away, and the index numbers on the main design and the index letters on the cloth have been altered. The designer’s name has been removed from the floor of the House, and engraved on the right-hand corner of the plate.

These are the main differences. The curious reader may occupy himself in discovering others.

The next example here reproduced I give because of the peculiarly drastic changes which have been made by the pirate into whose hands the plate has fallen. {239}

In its original state it bears the punning title, “The Races of the Europeans with their Keys.” The line of pub­li­ca­tion runs:—“Geo. Bickham, jun^r., inv^t. et sculp. According to the late Act, 1740. Price 1s. Sold at ye Black Moors Head against Surry Street in y^e Strand.” The composite design is made up of variorum copies of four separate prints recently published. These are enclosed in the four quarters of an elaborate design, surmounted by a crouching wolf. At the point where the four corners meet is a grotesque horned head. At the foot are a mask and a poniard. Each panel is differently dated, and surmounts its own set of explanatory notes. The allusions to contemporary politics are most ingeniously conceived, but are so numerous that space forbids even their barest description.

In its second state the plate is entitled “A Skit on Britain.” The line of pub­li­ca­tion runs the same as before, saving the name of the artist, which has been changed into “Ged Bilchham.” A line of script has also been added on this copy, which states that “This plate is upon the same copper as ‘The Races of the Europeans,’ much of the {240} allusions not having been obliterated,” which seems considerably to understate the case. The enclosing design is certainly much the same as before, though in this there are many alterations in detail, but of the four engravings by far the greater portion has been removed. The aerial parts are practically untouched, but of the crowds of figures only a few unimportant groups remain. All the tables of reference have been burnished out, and are replaced by doggerel verses. The dates have been removed from the four compartments, and in the places of three of them appear “Porto Bello, Nov. 1739,” “Cartagena,” and “The Havana,” while the fourth is left blank. The main part of the satire is directed against the policy of Sir Robert Walpole, but is of too elaborate a nature to be entered upon here.

Before concluding this account of palimpsest plates I shall reproduce three very curious prints in which the substitution of one head for another is more than usually outrageous.45 The original {241} engraving was by Pierre Lombart after a made-up portrait of Charles I., on horseback, professing to be by Vandyck.

The plate was executed before the execution (save the mark!) of the Martyr King. After his death the head of Cromwell was substituted, no doubt for commercial purposes. Finally, Charles the First’s head was restored (again save the mark!) after the Restoration. Our re­pro­duc­tions are from what would seem to be the second, third, and fourth states of the plate though a first state is not known. It will be observed that, in the earliest—namely, that in which the head has been removed altogether—the scarf is brought across the left shoulder, and tied under the right arm, whilst the page-boy has bands and frills to his breeches. In the next, or third state, in which Cromwell’s head has been inserted, the scarf has been removed from the shoulder, and is tied round the waist, whilst the bands and frills have been removed from the page-boy’s nether garments. In the next, or fourth stage of the plate, in which {242} Charles’s head has been re-inserted, there are, besides the substitution of one head for the other, a few minor alterations, such as the addition of the Cavalier moustache to the face of the page-boy, the restoration of the frills to his breeches, the alteration of the pattern of the rider’s collar, the addition of the order of St. George to the rider’s breast, and the substitution of the royal coat of arms for those of the Protector at the bottom of the engraving. There are also other known states of the plate, re­pro­duc­tions of which may be seen in Mr. Alfred Whitman’s Print-Collector’s Handbook. These were unknown to me when I wrote the above description.46

So much for historical instances of putting new heads on old shoulders. But, if I am not mistaken, the very modern restoration of the west front of one of our great cathedrals shows a late Dean’s head surmounting the body of a saint or king, {243} which had been mutilated by Cromwell. It would be cruel, perhaps, to be more specific, as vanity is not the most pleasing of the Christian virtues.

Again, there was lately a good deal of laughter caused by one of the whims of the German Emperor. It appears that his artistic eye had been offended by the incompleteness of a fine headless torso which was brought to the fatherland some years since. Everything, he was aware, could be made in Germany, so what more natural than to offer a prize for the best completion of the work of a Phidias or a Praxiteles? Finis coronat opus, and the sculptors of Germany were called upon to compete. None of the results, however, satisfied His Imperial Majesty, and two of the artists have been commissioned to try again. Would it be lese-majestie to suggest that there is only one head in Germany that would prove quite acceptable? I present the idea to the competitors.

Enough has been written to show that the pursuit of the palimpsest plate is sport of the very finest for the collector, for it is a sport which does not cease with the running of the quarry to earth. {244}

I have reproduced, without comment, opposite pages 244 and 246, and on pages 245, 247, and 249, a few more of these adapted copperplates for the sake of any one who may be fortunate enough to possess either the original or the palimpsest. He will find it no bad sport to go hunting for its fellow.