Part 11

The group behind is partly made up of British sailors and soldiers, each of whom exhibit a most melancholy spectacle of the fortune of war. One lion-hearted veteran, having had both legs and arms lopped off in the service of his country, has his oak-like trunk borne to the borders of the platform upon a porter's knot,[152] where, with three other disabled warriors, he waits in the hope of catching a few drops from the fountain of honour; but alas! the stream which ascends from a fire-plug behind the gate falls on the heads of a mob who are in the background. Some of these may possibly be cripples, for a crutch as well as several bludgeons is flourished in the air. At a window, over which is painted "Dr. Cant's," and "Man Midwife," a bishop is confirming two adults by the imposition of hands. Whether by this representation the artist intended to hint that this father of the church confirmed them in their political errors, the reader must determine according to his political creed; but thus far we may venture to decide, Doctor Thomas Seeker, then Archbishop of Canterbury, was the person intended to be delineated. At the rooms where the Society for Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce then met, a number of persons, by the help of a crane, are dragging up a large silver palette, on which is written "Premium." The man instructing the workmen is, I believe, intended for Mr. Peter Templeman, then Secretary to the Society; as one of the figures in the first floor is probably Lord Romney, then their President.

Behind this we discover the New Church in the Strand; and on the opposite side a triumphal column; a structure with the word "Hospital" inscribed on the front, and a scaffolding, with workmen completing a very large new building. These, I apprehend, Hogarth intended as descriptive of the great things which were to be undertaken and carried on during the reign of a monarch who gloried in the name of Briton. That the workmen and scaffolding bear allusion to those extensive and ponderous premises now known by the name of Somerset Place, there can be little doubt: the artist, with an eye of prophetic anticipation, has placed his scaffolding nearly on the spot where the building now stands;[153] and conscious of the time it must take to pile up such a quantity of stone, has not represented it built, but building.

The figure of Lord Bute is a strong likeness, and in the turn of head very similar to Ramsay's portrait which Mr. Ryland engraved. Pointing out the first Lord Holland by making the outline of his cap in the form of a fox's head, is a whimsical idea. Even the sculptured lion's shaggy front has strong markings. He is by no means pleased with the distribution of those honours that he is made a party in bestowing, but goes through his business with a very wry face. To the poor maimed sailors and soldiers, Callot could not have given much more spirit. Though upon so small a scale, they have all the hardihood of their order; and both in them and the elevated party[154] on the opposite side, variety and distinction of character is accurately and nicely discriminated.

JOHN WILKES, ESQ.

_Drawn from the Life, and etched in aquafortis, by William Hogarth. Published according to Act of Parliament, May 16, 1763._

"Enough of Patriots,--all I ask of man Is only to be honest as he can. Some have deceiv'd, and some may still deceive, 'Tis the fool's curse at random to believe. Would those who, by opinion plac'd on high, Stand fair and perfect in their country's eye, Maintain that honour,--let me in their ear Hint this essential doctrine--PERSEVERE."

--CHURCHILL.

The bitter satire upon Hogarth's domestic habits, talents, taste, originality, and orthography, which has been before noticed, would have discomposed a less irritable man, and warranted any retaliation in the power of the pencil; but he seems to have felt little uneasiness, and under a conviction that the overcharged blunderbuss which had been aimed at him had burst in the explosion and wounded his assailant more than himself, did not think it necessary to point fire-arms at an adversary whose intemperate zeal had defeated his avowed purpose. Under the influence of these impressions, the artist has not attempted to be severe; nor can I comprehend upon what ground this plate has been denominated a satire, for it is not a caricature, but a very accurate and striking resemblance, with the identical accompaniments which I most firmly believe Mr. Wilkes would at that time have chosen as the decorations of his portrait. The cap of liberty, "Heaven-descended, godlike liberty," above his head, and two political papers which he acknowledged himself to have written, on his right hand. One of these papers is marked with that memorable number, which was in its day a kind of shibboleth to the party.[156] On the same table with the two _North Britons_ is a pen and ink, importing that the person delineated is an author, a character the Colonel could hardly be ashamed of. These premises granted to the artist,--and

"The very head and front of his offending Hath this extent, no more,"--

what crime has he committed? He has given an engraving, which cannot indeed be considered as a compliment, because it is not a flattering likeness; but I do not see why it should have been received as a sarcasm. If we add to this the time when, and place where, it was taken; if we consider how glorious the situation!--how interesting the moment!--it is delineating a general at the instant of victory; and so far from bearing any marks of satire, that it might be almost mistaken for a panegyric. To say the truth, though his friend Churchill has thrown the picture into shadow, and given only the dark tints, Mr. Wilkes seemed willing enough to receive it as such;[157] and I am informed, frequently told his friends that he every day grew into a stronger resemblance. The pleasant and philosophic indifference with which he spoke of it at the time, did honour to his good humour and his good sense. He declared himself very little concerned about the case of his soul, as he was only tenant for life, and that the best apology for his person was, that he did not make himself.[158]

Such was the style of Mr. Wilkes. As to Mr. Churchill, his temper must have forsaken him; and every circumstance taken into the account, when describing this transaction, he seems to have forgotten that satire ought to be at least seasoned with truth. Brilliant diction, animated verse, and high-sounding words, are very apt to impose. Churchill's is a muse of fire, and dazzles the eye like the sun in its meridian splendour; it fascinates the mind, and carries the most sober reason into the airy regions of imagination. This considered, before I insert his bitter satire, it will be but fair to give a candid and dispassionate relation of that which provoked it.

When Mr. Wilkes was the second time brought from the Tower to Westminster Hall, and had in one day an honourable acquittal, an universal acclamation, and a proud triumph, Mr. Hogarth attended in the court of Common Pleas, and, as was his constant custom, carried a port-crayon in his pocket. Surrounded by a crowd of spectators, who came to see how the cause would terminate, he took a portrait of Mr. Wilkes: delineated a patriot at the moment when he was in his own person asserting the cause of liberty, and by his own trial ascertaining the law of his country. But, replies an advocate for Mr. Wilkes, "Hogarth certainly intended to make a caricature."[159] To this I have no other answer than pointing to the print, which, being compared with the original, will prove to every dispassionate inquirer what it is my wish to establish, _i.e._ that it has been mistaken for a caricature, from the world knowing the provocation which Hogarth had previously received, and which every man felt would have justified the most severe retaliation.

What! Consider it as a satire to hand down to posterity a patriot at the moment of inspiration! "While every breast caught the holy flame of liberty, and all his fellow-citizens were animated in his cause, for they knew it to be their own cause, that of their country, and of its laws. It was declared to be so a few hours afterwards by the unanimous sentence of the Judges of that Court; and they were all present."

From the style in which the bard relates this transaction, a plain reader would be tempted to think that Hogarth had stolen into Westminster Hall with a quiver full of poisoned arrows hung to his girdle, and, like a murderous ruffian, hid himself behind the arras, that he might seize the first opportunity of assassinating this paragon of patriotism.

"When Wilkes, our countryman, our common friend, Arose, his king, his country to defend; When tools of power he bar'd to public view, And from their holes the sneaking cowards drew; When Rancour found it far beyond her reach, To soil his honour, and his truth impeach,-- What could induce thee, at a time and place Where manly foes had blush'd to show their face, To make that effort which must damn thy name, And sink thee deep, deep in the grave with shame! Did Virtue move thee? no, 'twas pride, rank pride, And if thou hadst not done it, thou hadst died. Malice (who, disappointed of her end, Whether to work the bane of foe or friend, Preys on herself, and driven to the stake, Gives virtue that revenge she scorns to take) Had killed thee, tottering on life's utmost verge, Had Wilkes and Liberty escaped thy scourge. "When that great charter which our fathers bought With their best blood, was into question brought; When big with ruin, o'er each English head, Vile Slavery hung suspended by a thread; When Liberty, all trembling and aghast, Fear'd for the future, knowing what was past; When every breast was chill'd with deep despair, Till reason pointed out that PRATT was there. Lurking most ruffian-like behind a screen, So plac'd all things to see, himself unseen, Virtue with due contempt saw[160] Hogarth stand, The murderous pencil in his palsied hand. What was the cause of Liberty to him, Or what was Honour! let them sink or swim, So he may gratify without control, The mean resentments of his selfish soul, Let Freedom perish, if, to Freedom true, In the same ruin Wilkes may perish too."

This animated and high-coloured rhapsody, beautiful and fervid as it is, when reduced to plain prose, ends in Liberty, Virtue, and Honour being all aghast, because Hogarth took Mr. Wilkes' portrait without the customary fee! But my readers may be weary of the subject. Enough--

"Enough of Wilkes,--to good and honest men His actions speak much stronger than my pen."

--CHURCHILL.

THE BRUISER, CHARLES CHURCHILL (ONCE THE REVEREND),

_In the Character of a Russian Hercules, regaling himself after having killed the Monster Caricatura, that so sorely galled his virtuous friend, the heaven-born Wilkes.--Published Aug. 1, 1763._

"But he had a club, This dragon to drub, Or he had ne'er don't, I warrant ye."

--_Dragon of Wantley._

Enraged by the publication of Mr. Wilkes' portrait, Mr. Charles Churchill drew his gray goose quill, and wrote a most virulent and vindictive satire, which he entitled _An Epistle to William Hogarth_. The painter might be a very good Christian, but he was not blest with that meek forbearance which induces those who are smote on one cheek to turn the other also. He was an old man, but did not wish to be considered as that feeble, superannuated, helpless animal which the poet had described. He scarcely wished to live

"After his flame lack'd oil, to be the snuff Of younger spirits."

Apprehensive that the public might construe his delaying a reply to proceed from inability, he did not wait the tedious process of a new plate, but took a piece of copper on which he had, in the year 1749, engraven a portrait of himself and dog, erased his own head, and in the place of it introduced the divine with a tattered band and torn ruffles,--"No Lord's anointed, but a Russian bear."

In this I must acknowledge there was more ill-nature than wit.[161] It is rather caricature than character, and more like the coarse mangling of Tom Browne than the delicate yet wounding satire of Alexander Pope. For this rough retort he might, however, plead the poet's precedent. His opponent had brandished a tomahawk; and Hogarth, old as he was, wielded a battle-axe in his own defence. A more aggravated provocation cannot well be conceived. The attack was unmerciful, unmanly, unjust. Let the following extracts speak for themselves:--

"Amongst the sons of men, how few are known Who dare be just to merit not their own! Superior virtue and superior sense, To knaves and fools will always give offence: Nay, men of real worth can scarcely bear-- So nice is jealousy--a rival there."

Such is the introduction to Churchill's Epistle, and I believe the reader will grant that it is quite as applicable to the poet as the painter. After some lines which would apply to any other subject as well as that under consideration, he thus proceeds:

"Hogarth,--I take thee, Candour, at thy word, Accept thy proffer'd terms, and will be heard; Thee have I heard with virulence declaim, Nothing retained of Candour but the name; By thee have I been charg'd in angry strains,[162] With that mean falsehood which my soul disdains."

How furious the onset! but if the lines are brought back to plain prose, they will run thus: "Hogarth, thy word is candour. I adopt the same word, and having heard _thee_ declaim with a virulence that retained nothing of candour but the name, thou shalt hear me declaim in the same style."

That this is the precise meaning which the poet intended, I will not presume to assert; but that he has pursued his theme in a manner that amply justifies my supposition, the following lines will abundantly prove:--

"Hogarth, stand forth,--nay, hang not thus aloof, Now Candour, now thou shalt receive such proof, Such damning proof, that henceforth thou shalt fear To tax my wrath, and own my conduct clear. Hogarth, stand forth,--I dare thee to be try'd In that great court where Conscience must preside: At that most solemn bar hold up thy hand; Think before whom, on what account you stand. Speak, but consider well--from first to last Review thy life, view every action past: Nay, you shall have no reason to complain,-- Take longer time, and view them o'er again: Canst thou remember from thy earliest youth,-- And as thy God must judge thee, speak the truth,-- A single instance where, self laid aside, And justice taking place of fear and pride, Thou with an equal eye didst genius view, And give to merit what was merit's due? Genius and merit are a sure offence, And thy soul sickens at the name of sense."

If Hogarth had so marked an aversion to all genius, merit, and sense, it is rather singular that he should have lived on such intimate terms with Mr. Churchill and Mr. Wilkes.

"Is any one so foolish to succeed? On Envy's altar he is doomed to bleed. Hogarth, a guilty pleasure in his eyes, The place of executioner supplies: See how he gloats, enjoys the sacred feast, And proves himself by cruelty a priest."

What does the bard prove himself?

"Whilst the weak artist to thy whims a slave, Would bury all those powers which nature gave, Would suffer blank concealment to obscure Those rays that jealousy could not endure; To feed thy vanity would rust unknown, And to secure thy credit, blast his own: In Hogarth he was sure to find a friend; He could not fear, and therefore might commend. But when his spirit, rous'd by honest shame, Shook off that lethargy, and soar'd to fame; When with the pride of man resolv'd and strong, He scorn'd those fears which did his honour wrong; And on himself determin'd to rely, Brought forth his labours to the public eye, No friend in thee could such a rebel know, He had desert, and Hogarth was his foe."

He must be a very weak artist indeed who would bury the talents which Nature gave, to gratify the whims of another man; but admitting a painter had been found "who suffered blank concealment to obscure those rays which jealousy could not endure," I cannot comprehend how it concerned Hogarth. His walk was all his own: even now he need not dread a rival there. Mr. Churchill acknowledges that in walks of humour

"Hogarth unrivall'd stands, and shall engage Unrivall'd praise to the most distant age!"

Being unrivalled, I do not see why he should dread a rival; nor can I conceive he could be jealous of talents which he must be conscious were inferior to his own.

After some very harsh lines on envy, in no degree applicable to Hogarth, and the rhapsody about Wilkes and Liberty, which I have noticed in the preceding plate, this high priest of the Temple of Cruelty, rejoicing in his strength and triumphing in the pride of his youth, without any reverence for gray hairs or respect for superior talents, sets up the war-whoop, and springs upon a feeble old man with the ferocity of a hungry cannibal:

"With all the symptoms of assur'd decay, With age and sickness pinch'd and worn away, Pale quivering lips, lank cheeks, and faltering tongue, The spirits out of tune, the nerves unstrung, The body shrivell'd up, the dim eyes sunk Within their sockets deep; the weak hams shrunk, The body's weight unable to sustain, The stream of life scarce trembling through the vein: More than half kill'd by honest truths which fell, Through thy own fault, from men who wish'd thee well; Canst thou e'en thus thy thoughts to vengeance give, And dead to all things else, to malice live? Hence, dotard, to thy closet; shut thee in, By deep repentance wash away thy sin; From haunts of men, to shame and sorrow fly, And on the verge of death learn how to die."

That a man in the vigour of life--for Churchill was not much more than thirty years old--should draw so pitiable a picture of age and decrepitude, and then attack that age and decrepitude with a barbarity so savage, is horrible! But the baleful spirit of party overthrows the barriers of truth, eradicates philanthropy, and severs those social, I had almost said sacred, bonds which ought to unite and attach men of genius to each other. Had Churchill felt his own beautiful apostrophe, he would have blotted the lines with his tears:

"Ah! let not youth to insolence allied, In heat of blood, in full career of pride, Possessed of genius, with unhallowed rage, Mock the infirmities of reverend age. The greatest genius to this fate may bow."

--_Churchill's Epistle to Hogarth._

After advising the painter to learn how to die, the bard proceeds; repeats and amplifies what he had before written on Hogarth's envy, gives a metrical version of that _North Briton_ which ridicules the artist's love of flattery, and beautifully versifies Mr. Wilkes' prosaic abuse of poor "Sigismunda."

In the lines which follow, he first throws the gauntlet, and then draws such a picture of the man he has challenged as must have subdued the rancour of an assassin; so far from being a stimulus to revenge, it excites pity, and concludes in the form of an apology:

"For me, who, warm and zealous for my friend, In spite of railing thousands, will commend; And no less warm and zealous 'gainst my foes, Spite of commending thousands will oppose; I dare thy worst, with scorn behold thy rage, But with an eye of pity view thy age; Thy feeble age, in which as in a glass We see how men to dissolution pass. Thou wretched being, whom on reason's plan, So chang'd, so lost, I cannot call a man, What could persuade thee at this time of life To launch afresh into this sea of strife? Better for thee, scarce crawling on the earth, Almost as much a child as at thy birth, To have resign'd in peace thy parting breath, And sunk unnotic'd in the arms of death. Why would thy gray, gray hairs resentment brave, Thus to go down with sorrow to the grave? Now by my soul it makes me blush to know My spirits could descend to such a foe. Whatever cause thy vengeance might provoke, It seems rank cowardice to give the stroke."

Seems, Churchill!--nay, it is!

The following address to the artist may, with infinitely more propriety, be applied to the bard; whose name I have therefore ventured to insert in the place where he has left the name of Hogarth:

"With so much merit, and so much success, With so much power to curse, so much to bless, Would he have been man's friend instead of foe, Churchill had been a little god below. Why, then, like savage giants fam'd of old, Of whom in Scripture story we are told, Dost thou in cruelty that strength employ, Which Nature meant to save, not to destroy? Why dost thou, all in horrid pomp array'd, Sit grinning o'er the ruins thou hast made? Most rank ill-nature must applaud thy art, But even Candour must condemn thy heart."

--_Epistle to Hogarth._

The whole of this unfeeling composition is dictated by the same spirit, and written in much the same style, as the lines I have quoted; it reflects more dishonour on the satirist than on the subject of his abuse.

To enumerate further examples would be painful as well as tedious: the _graven image_ must be attended to.

It represents Mr. Churchill in the character of a bear hugging a foaming tankard of porter,[163] and like another Hercules, armed with a knotted club, to attack hydras, destroy dragons, and discomfit giants!

From the two letters "N. B." inscribed on the club, it appears that the painter considered Churchill as a writer in the _North Briton_; and from the words "infamous fallacy, Lie the 1st, 2d, 3d, 4th," etc., on each of the knots, that he also considered him as a poet who did not pay the strictest regard to truth.

To designate more positively the object of his ridicule, and render this rude representative still more ludicrous, it is decorated with a band and a pair of ruffles; and with these characteristic ornaments, though it remains a good bear, it becomes a sort of overcharged portrait of the reverend satirist, and I really think resembles him.

Hogarth's favourite dog Trump, who had been his companion in the portrait from which this is altered, retains his original situation on the outside of the picture frame, but is now contemptuously treating and trampling upon the Epistle to his master. Near him lie two books, on one of which is written, "_A New Way to Pay Old Debts_, a comedy, by Massinger:" on the other, "_A List of Subscribers to the North Briton_." To intimate the poverty of those who wrote it, the pyramid is crowned by a begging-box; and beneath, as emblems of art, lie a pencil and palette.

In this state the print was published; but the gentleman whom it offended asserting that it proved the painter in his dotage, he refuted their calumny by the following spirited addition:--