Part 12

In the form of a framed picture on the painter's palette, is placed a small drawing, which may serve as a sort of political postscript to his first plate of "The Times," or a kind of prelude to the second. It represents Mr. Pitt reclining in a similar position to that of Sir Isaac Newton in Westminster Abbey, and is probably meant as allusive to his having retired from public business, to enjoy the _otium cum dignitate_, a short time before. The background is composed of a pyramidical piece of marble, from the top of which is suspended a millstone, inscribed "£3000," in allusion to his saying that "Hanover was a millstone round the neck of England," and afterwards increasing the public burdens by accepting a pension of £3000 a year. It is suspended by a thread, and must, if it falls, dash him to pieces. This was Hogarth's idea of crushing popularity. To heighten the ridicule, though recumbent, he is firing a mortar at the symbol of peace, "a dove with an olive branch" perched on the standard of England; but his artillery is not powerful enough to reach the mark; the powder fails in its effect, the ball falls short of its object. In most of his measures Mr. Pitt was supported by the city of London, and to this our great metropolis Hogarth appears to allude, in making the two Guildhall giants, with each of them a pipe of tobacco in his mouth, supporters of the Monument. The tubes with Indian weed evidently hint at his great Creolian friend, Mr. Alderman Beckford. To denote that Mr. Pitt was the sovereign of their affections, and kept the master-key of their iron chests, one of these representatives of the city is giving him supreme rule, by placing upon his head "the likeness of a kingly crown." The other holds a shield, on which is emblazoned the arms of Austria, which the statesman indignantly spurns. At an opposite corner, the painter has exhibited himself, in the humble character of a showman, drilling Messrs. Churchill and Wilkes through the varying steps of a political minuet. The first he has represented under the type of a bear in a laced hat, and the last as a monkey astride upon a mop-stick, with the cap of liberty at the top of it. In his left hand he holds a check-string, which being fastened to his two pupils, answers the purpose of a bridle, and in his right brandishes a cat-o'-nine-tails. That the two quadrupeds may dance to some tune, a figure without features, intended as a second delineation of Earl Temple, is playing on the fiddle.[164]

Such is Hogarth's representation; and in the poem of _Independence_, which Churchill published in September 1764, he admirably parries the caricature by a most spirited description of himself. In this he has evidently taken Hogarth's print for his model. Having described a lean, long, lank, and bony figure, designed for a then unpopular nobleman, he thus proceeds:

"Such was the first. The second was a man Whom Nature built on a quite different plan: A bear, whom from the moment he was born, His dam despis'd, and left unlick'd in scorn: A Babel, which, the power of art outdone, She could not finish when she had begun: An utter chaos, out of which no might But that of God could strike one spark of light. Broad were his shoulders, and from blade to blade A H---- might at full length have laid. Vast were his bones; his muscles twisted strong; His face was short, but broader than 'twas long. His features, though by nature they were large, Contentment had contrived to overcharge, And bury meaning; save that we might spy Sense low'ring on the pent-house of his eye,[165] His arms were two twin oaks; his legs so stout, That they might bear a mansion-house about. Nor were they,--look but at his body there, Design'd by fate a much less weight to bear. "O'er a brown cassock, which had once been black, Which hung in tatters on his brawny back, A sight most strange and awkward to behold, He threw a covering of blue and gold. "Just at that time of life when man by rule The fop laid down, takes up the graver fool, He started up a fop, and fond of show, Look'd like another Hercules turn'd beau; A subject met with only now and then, Much fitter for the pencil than the pen. Hogarth would draw him, Envy must allow, Ev'n to the life,--were Hogarth living now."[166]

In the following letter written to his friend Mr. Wilkes, and dated August 3, 1763, Churchill considers Hogarth as already dead:--

"I take it for granted you have seen Hogarth's print against me. Was ever anything so contemptible? I think he is fairly _felo de se_. I think not to let him off in that manner, although I might safely leave him to your notes.[167] He has broken into my pale of private life, and set that example of illiberality which I wished; of that kind of attack which is ungenerous in the first instance, but justice in return.[168] I intend an elegy on him, supposing him dead; but *---- *---- tells me, with a kiss, he will be really dead before it comes out; that I have already killed him, etc. How sweet is flattery from the woman we love![169] and how weak is our boasted strength, when opposed to beauty and good sense with good-nature."

Mr. Churchill died at Boulogne in his thirty-second year, and was in November 1764 buried at Dover: at which place, on a small stone in the old churchyard, formerly belonging to the collegiate Church of St. Martin, is the following inscription:

"Life to the last enjoy'd, here Churchill lies."

APPENDIX,

CONSISTING OF

ENGRAVED HEADPIECES FOR RECEIPTS, ETC.

At the time that Hogarth lived, we were not compelled to have our receipts sanctioned with a royal stamp; but upon the receipts given by Hogarth, there was "the stamp of genius, the broad seal of nature!" Whoever paid a subscription had a written acknowledgment beneath a little print. This invariably abounded in wit, but had seldom any immediate allusion to the series with which it was presented.[170] His great works I consider as giving not only a general mirror of the human mind, but a history of the local and temporary customs of the day when they were published. I have therefore arranged them in the order they were engraved; and thinking that the receipts, or less important prints, would break the chain by which they are in a degree connected, I have reserved the following short memoranda for an appendix:--

BOYS PEEPING AT NATURE.[171]

"Thou, Nature, art my goddess."

This plate was engraved in 1733, and intended as the subscription-ticket to "The Harlot's Progress;" but in the original design Nature was habited in a petticoat, and the boy who now points to a three-quarters portrait was placed before her, and represented as curiously stooping down to examine the fringe. Some of the artist's friends, suggesting that this was too ludicrous an idea for the public, the copper was thrown aside.

In the year 1751, Hogarth etched his burlesque "Paul," as a receipt-ticket to the large "Paul before Felix." In a printed catalogue of his works, dated 1754, I find "Paul before Felix" marked £0, 7s. 6d., and "Paul before Felix, in the manner of Rembrandt," £0, 0s. 0d. Applications for the gratis etching were very frequent; and he found, to his great mortification, that the public were more eager to possess his little print than either of the large ones. To punish their want of taste, he gave away no more, but fixed the price at two-thirds of the sum at which he published the large print.

This alteration of his first plan left the great "Paul" without a ticket. To have given him the "Peeping Boys" in their original state, would have been a species of sacrilege; they were chastened, grouped as they now are, and transferred from the "Harlot" to the "Apostle."

Though the circumstance from which it received a name was done away, and very little either novel or striking remains, he retained the original title of "Boys Peeping at Nature."[172]

FIVE GROUPS OF HEADS.

THE LAUGHING AUDIENCE.

"Let him laugh now, who never laugh'd before; And he who always laugh'd, laugh now the more."

From the first print that Hogarth engraved to the last that he published, I do not think there is one in which character is more displayed than in this very spirited little etching. It is much superior to the more delicate engravings from his designs by other artists, and I prefer it to those that were still higher finished by his own burin.

The prim coxcomb with an enormous bag, whose favours, like those of Hercules between Virtue and Vice, are contended for by two rival orange girls, gives an admirable idea of the dress of the day; when, if we may judge from this print, our grave forefathers, defying nature and despising convenience, had a much higher rank in the temple of Folly than was then attained by their ladies. It must be acknowledged that since that period the softer sex have asserted their natural rights; and, snatching the wreath of fashion from the brow of presuming man, have tortured it into such forms--that were it possible, which certes it is not, to disguise a beauteous face!--But to the high behest of fashion all must bow.

Governed by this idol, our beau has a cuff that for a modern fop would furnish fronts for a waistcoat, and a family fire-screen might be made of his enormous bag. His bare and shrivelled neck has a close resemblance to that of a half-starved greyhound; and his face, figure, and air, form a fine contrast to the easy and _degagée_ assurance of the grisette whom he addresses.

The opposite figure, nearly as grotesque, though not quite so formal as _its_ companion, presses _its_ left hand upon _its_ breast,[173] in the style of protestation, and eagerly contemplating the superabundant charms of a beauty of Rubens' school, presents her with a pinch of comfort.[174] Every muscle, every line of his countenance, is acted upon by affectation and grimace, and his queue bears some resemblance to an ear-trumpet.

The total inattention of these three polite persons to the business of the stage, which at this moment almost convulses the children of Nature who are seated in the pit, is highly descriptive of that refined apathy which characterizes our people of fashion, and raises them above those mean passions that agitate the groundlings.

One gentleman, indeed,[175] is as affectedly unaffected as a man of the first world. By his saturnine cast of face and contracted brow, he is evidently a profound critic, and much too wise to laugh. He must indisputably be a very great genius; for, like Voltaire's Poccocurante, nothing can please him; and while those around open every avenue of their minds to mirth, and are willing to be delighted, though they do not well know why, he analyzes the drama by the laws of Aristotle, and finding those laws are violated, determines that the author ought to be hissed instead of being applauded. This it is to be so excellent a judge; this it is which gives a critic that exalted gratification which can never be attained by the illiterate: the supreme power of pointing out faults where others discern nothing but beauties, and preserving a rigid inflexibility of muscle while the sides of the vulgar herd are shaking with laughter. These merry mortals, thinking with Plato that it is no proof of a good stomach to nauseate every aliment presented them, do not inquire too nicely into _causes_; but, giving full scope to their risibility, display a set of features more highly ludicrous than I ever saw in any other print. It is to be regretted that the artist has not given us some clue by which we might have known what was the play which so much delighted his audience: I should conjecture that it was either one of Shakspeare's comedies, or a modern tragedy. Sentimental comedy was not the fashion of that day.

The three sedate musicians in the orchestra, totally engrossed by minims and crotchets, are an admirable contrast to the company in the pit.

THE LECTURE.

DATUR VACUUM.

"No wonder that science, and learning profound, In Oxford and Cambridge so greatly abound, When so many take thither a little each day, And we see very few who bring any away."

I was once told by a fellow of a college that he would never purchase Hogarth's works, because Hogarth had in this print ridiculed one of the Universities. I endeavoured to defend the artist, by suggesting that this was not intended as a picture of what Oxford is now, but of what it was in days long past: that it was that kind of general satire with which no one should be offended, etc. etc. His reply was too memorable to be forgotten: "Sir, the Theatre, the Bench, the College of Physicians, and the Foot Guards, are fair objects of satire; but those venerable characters who have devoted their whole lives to feeding the lamp of learning with hallowed oil, are too sacred to be the sport of an uneducated painter. Their unremitting industry embraced the whole circle of the sciences, and in their logical disputations they displayed an acuteness that their followers must contemplate with astonishment. The present state of Oxford it is not necessary for me to analyze, as you contend that the satire is not directed against that."

In answer to this observation, which was uttered with becoming gravity, a gentleman present remarked as follows: "For some of the ancient customs of this seminary of learning I have much respect; but as to their dry treatises on logic, immaterial dissertations on materiality, and abstruse investigations of useless subjects, they are mere literary legerdemain. Their disputations being usually built on an undefinable chimera, are solved by a paradox. Instead of exercising their power of reason, they exert their powers of sophistry, and divide and subdivide every subject with such casuistical minuteness, that those who are not convinced are almost invariably confounded. This custom, it must be granted, is not quite so prevalent as it once was: a general spirit of reform is rapidly diffusing itself; and though I have heard cold-blooded declaimers assert that these shades of science are become the retreats of ignorance and the haunts of dissipation, I consider them as the great schools of urbanity, and favourite seats of the _belles lettres_. By the _belles lettres_ I mean history, biography, and poetry; that all these are universally cultivated, I can exemplify by the manner in which a highly accomplished young man, who is considered as a model by his fellow-collegians, divides his hours.

"At breakfast I found him studying the marvellous and eventful history of _Baron Munchausen_; a work whose periods are equally free from the long-winded obscurity of Tacitus, and the asthmatic terseness of Sallust. While his hair was dressing, he enlarged his imagination and improved his morals by studying Doctor what's his name's _Abridgment of Chesterfield's Principles of Politeness_. To furnish himself with biographical information, and add to his stock of useful anecdote, he studied the _Lives of the Highwaymen_; in which he found many opportunities of exercising his genius and judgment in drawing parallels between the virtues and exploits of these modern worthies, and those dignified and almost deified ancient heroes whose deeds are recorded in Plutarch and Nepos.

"With poetical studies he is furnished by the English operas, which, added to the prologues, epilogues, and odes of the day, afford him higher entertainment than he could find in Homer or Virgil: he has not stored his memory with many epigrams, but of puns has a plentiful stock, and in _conundra_ is a wholesale dealer. At the same college I know a most striking contrast, whose reading"---- But as his opponent would hear no more, my advocate dropped the subject; and I will follow his example.

It seems probable that when the artist engraved this print he had only a general reference to an university lecture; the words _datur vacuum_ were an after-thought. I have seen prints without the inscription, and in some of the early impressions it is written with a pen.

The scene is laid at Oxford, and the person reading, universally admitted to be a Mr. Fisher of Jesus College, _registrat_ of the university, with whose consent this portrait was taken, and who lived until the 18th of March 1761. That he should wish to have such a face handed down to posterity in such company is rather extraordinary; for all the band, except one man, have been steeped in the stream of stupidity. This gentleman has the profile of penetration; a projecting forehead, a Roman nose, thin lips, and a long pointed chin. His eye is bent on vacancy: it is evidently directed to the moon-faced idiot that crowns the pyramid, at whose round head, contrasted by a cornered cap, he with difficulty supresses a laugh. Three fellows on the right hand of this fat, contented "first-born transmitter of a foolish face," have most degraded characters, and are much fitter for the stable than the college. If they ever read, it must be in Bracken's _Farriery_, or _The Country Gentleman's Recreation_. Two square-capped students a little beneath the top, one of whom is holding converse with an adjoining profile, and the other lifting up his eyebrows and staring without sight, have the same misfortune that attended our first James--their tongues are rather too large. A figure in the left-hand corner has shut his eyes to think; and having, in his attempt to separate a syllogism, placed the forefinger of his right hand upon his forehead, has fallen asleep. The professor, a little above the book, endeavours by a projection of his under lip to assume importance; such characters are not uncommon: they are more solicitous to look wise than to be so. Of Mr. Fisher it is not necessary to say much: he sat for his portrait for the express purpose of having it inserted in the "Lecture!"--We want no other testimony of his talents. To the whole tribe I bid a long and last adieu.

"Ye dull deluders, truth's destructive foes, Cold sons of fiction, clad in stupid prose; Ye treacherous leaders, who, yourselves in doubt, Light up false fires, and send us far about; Still may the spider round your pages spin, Subtle and slow, her emblematic gin! Buried in dust, and lost in silence dwell, Most potent, grave, and reverend friends--farewell!"

REHEARSAL OF THE ORATORIO OF JUDITH.

"O cara, cara! silence all that train; Joy to great chaos! let division reign."

The oratorio of _Judith_ was written by Esquire William Huggins,[176] honoured by the music of William de Fesch, aided by new painted scenery and _magnifique_ decoration, and in the year 1733 brought upon the stage. As De Fesch[177] was a German and a genius, we may fairly presume it was well set; and there was at that time, as at this, a sort of musical mania, that paid much greater attention to sounds than to sense. Notwithstanding all these points in her favour, when the Jewish heroine had made her theatrical _début_, and so effectually smote Holofernes,

"As to sever His head from his great trunk for ever, and for ever,"

the audience compelled her to make her exit. To set aside this partial and unjust decree, Mr. Huggins appealed to the public, and printed[178] his oratorio. Though it was adorned with a frontispiece designed by Hogarth and engraved by Vandergucht, the world could not be compelled to read, and the unhappy writer had no other resource than the consolatory reflection, that his work was superlatively excellent, but unluckily printed in a tasteless age:[179] a comfortable and solacing self-consciousness, which hath, I verily believe, prevented many a great genius from becoming his own executioner.

To paint a sound is impossible; but as far as art can go towards it, Mr. Hogarth has gone in this print. The tenor, treble, and bass of these ear-piercing choristers are so decisively discriminated, that we all but hear them.

The principal figure, whose head, hands, and feet are in equal agitation, has very properly tied on his spectacles; it would have been prudent to have tied on his periwig also, for by the energy of his action he has shaken it from his head, and, absorbed in an eager attention to true time, is totally unconscious of his loss.

A _gentleman_--pardon me, I meant _a singer_--in a bag-wig, immediately beneath his uplifted hand, I suspect to be of foreign growth. _It_ has the engaging air of _an importation from Italy_.

The little figure in the sinister corner is, it seems, intended for a Mr. Tothall, a woollen-draper, who lived in Tavistock Court, and was Hogarth's intimate friend.

The name of the performer on his right hand,

"Whose growling bass Would drown the clarion of the braying ass,"

I cannot learn; nor do I think that this group were meant for particular portraits, but a general representation of the violent distortions into which these crotchet-mongers draw their features on such solemn occasions.

Even the head of the bass viol has air and character: by the band under the chin, it gives some idea of a professor,[180] or what is I think called a Mus. D.

The words now singing, "The world shall bow to the Assyrian throne," are extracted from Mr. Huggins' oratorio; the etching is in a most masterly style, and was originally given as a subscription-ticket to "The Modern Midnight Conversation."

I have seen a small political print on Sir Robert Walpole's administration, entitled, _Excise, a new Ballad Opera_, of which this was unquestionably the basis. Beneath it is the following learned and poetical motto:

"Experto crede Roberto."

"Mind how each hireling songster tunes his throat, And the vile knight beats time to every note: So Nero sung while Rome was all in flames, But time shall brand with infamy their names."

ET PLURIMA MORTIS IMAGO.

THE COMPANY OF UNDERTAKERS,

"Beareth sable, an urinal proper, between twelve quack heads of the second, and twelve cane heads OR, consultant. On a chief[181] nebulæ,[182] ermine, one complete doctor[183] issuant checkie, sustaining in his right hand a baton of the second. On his dexter and sinister side, two demi-doctors, issuant of the second, and two cane heads issuant of the third: the first having one eye couchant, towards the dexter side of the escutcheon; the second faced per pale proper, and gules guardant, with this motto, 'Et plurima mortis imago.'"

It has been said of the ancients, that they began by attempting to make physic a science, and failed; of the moderns, that they began by attempting to make it a trade, and succeeded. This company are moderns to a man; and if we may judge of their capacities by their countenances, are indeed a most sapient society. Their practice is very extensive, and they go about taking guineas,

"Far as the weekly bills can reach around, From Kent Street end, to fam'd St. Giles's pound."