The Pigs Possessed:–or–the Broad Bottom'd Litter Running Headlong into Ye Sea of Perdition 1807

Curator: Look at this fascinating etching by James Gillray, created in 1807. It's titled "The Pigs Possessed;–or–the Broad Bottom'd Litter Running Headlong into Ye Sea of Perdition," currently held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Editor: What strikes me immediately is the sheer chaotic energy. A mass of figures, rendered as grotesque caricatures of pigs, are cascading off a cliff into a churning sea. It's visually overwhelming, a swirling vortex of bodies and water. Curator: Precisely. Gillray uses the pig as a symbol of the politicians he saw as corrupt and self-serving members of the Grenville administration, also known as “the Broad Bottom Ministry,” which was in power only briefly. He believed their greed and incompetence were driving the nation to ruin, hence the "Sea of Perdition." It reflects the intense political battles of the era, capturing the widespread anxiety about the direction of British governance. We can observe the consequences when leadership goes astray, and perhaps see connections in current events today. Editor: Yes, and the farmer at the top of the cliff—George III, of course—driving them off with his pitchfork adds another layer. The use of pigs as political figures isn't new, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time. It's such a blunt, powerful metaphor: the uncontrollable animalistic impulse of gluttony. A symbol of leaders that were more concerned with eating themselves full and enriching their social class than stewarding the fate of their land and citizenry. Curator: And consider the composition, the relentless downward momentum. It creates a feeling of impending doom. Gillray uses the religious allusion to the "possessed" to hammer home his condemnation. These “pigs” are driven by dark forces beyond reason, and their destination is oblivion. There are multiple layers of criticism—political, religious, moral—intertwined in this work. Editor: I am drawn to the crashing waves as the base and end point, such a historically loaded symbol. Destruction, yes, but also cleansing and renewal, and as an iconographer, I'm always compelled to seek out familiar, if not timeless, symbolic gestures. The drowning figures are all grasping and pleading but can’t swim against such tides. Curator: Looking back, Gillray’s print offers a piercing view into political critique during a tempestuous era. Editor: Agreed, a chaotic symbol of excess with resonance across eras.