Part 12

The two dragons will astonish a rustic audience; and the rattling car, rolled over elastic planks, will make dreadful thunder.[149]

The British flag must wave for every nation upon earth;[150] may be borne before Macedonia's madman in his triumphal entry, or wave upon the battlements of Macbeth's castle. It is either the ensign of Henry or the standard of Coriolanus.

The straw deposited in a corner may serve for the bed of Lear, the head of Edgar, or the hands of the fair Ophelia.

Canopied by an opaque cloud, inscribed "Oedipus" and "Jocasta," and evidently intended as a scene in Lee's mad play,[151] we discover the heads of two figures reposing in the straw, instead of the garden, "as was their custom in the afternoon."

A fellow, clambered to the top of the barn, is profanely prying into the hallowed mysteries of the green-room. A little lower is the Roman eagle and standard; close to them a paint-pot, palette, and pencils. The very natural appearance of two rural scenes which lean against the wooden wall, evince that some eminent artist has united the two professions, and is both painter and hero to the company. "Hills and dales are of his dressing." He can delineate the blasted oak or nodding turret, the lofty castle or humble cottage, with such brilliancy of colouring and splendour of effect, that the astonished connoisseur sometimes exclaims,

"There is something in this more than nature, If philosophy could find it out."

A target, close to the altar, is richly embossed with Medusa's head. A salt-box, before the divine Juno, is chalked with hieroglyphic marks that might have been originally made by this sovereign daughter of the drama as a check upon an alehouse score. This economical attention to Cocker's _Arithmetic_ is very necessary with even a royal revenue; for

"He who to-night is seated on a throne, Calls subjects, empires, kingdoms, all his own, Who wears the diadem and regal robe, Next morning shall awake as poor as Job.

"Hard is the fortune of a strolling player, Necessity's rough burden doom'd to bear; And scanty is the pittance he can earn, Wandering from town to town, from barn to barn. Where are my forty knights? cries frantic Lear. A page replies, Your majesty, they're here,-- When, lo! two bailiffs, and a writ appear."[152]

The chemise, apron, cap, and ruffles, hanging upon a rope to dry, display marks of a laudable industry, and prove that these dignified personages, maugre their exalted rank, wash their own linen. The gridiron, close to the bed, intimates that they are not above broiling their own beefsteaks.

The expression of the figures in this print is admirable. Nothing can exceed the mock-heroic dignity of Juno;[153] she is as haughty as one of her own peacocks. The Tragic Muse has been so frequently up to the ears in blood, that she laughs at the tortures of the poor quadruped whose tail she is cutting off. The faces of the tumbler, the cat, and the Medusa, in beauty and character, "contend for mastery."

A little devil, who has his fist clenched, and threatens the other for drinking so deep, is admirably marked; from the eyes of his twin-brother, with the vessel to his mouth, we see that he highly relishes and greedily inhales the delicious draught.

The group, formed by the five preceding characters, is well composed, and their various dispositions most forcibly delineated. In the ranting representative of the pale moon, unblushing, unabashed impudence; in the siren, mawkish intoxication; and in Ganymede, an appearance of that agony which arises from the toothache.

Notwithstanding the candle that is near setting fire to the hamper of jewels, we see through a breach in the thatch that this is a daylight picture; in so shattered a tenement, it is not easy to determine from what source the figures are illuminated.

From the Act of Parliament which lies upon the bed, we learn that this diabolical drama will be their last performance; and when this abstract and brief chronicle of the times have fretted their little hour upon the stage, and made their exit, the barn will be appropriated to its proper uses:

"Rich harvests bury all their pride has plann'd, And laughing Ceres reassume the land."

That time come,

"This glittering show Of canvas, paint, and plaister shall lie low; These gorgeous palaces, yon cloud-capt scene-- This barn itself will be a barn again: The spirit-stirring drum will cease to roar, The prompter's whistle will be heard no more; But echoing sounds of rustic toil prevail, The winnowing hiss, and clapping of the flail: Hither once more may unhous'd vagrants fly, To shun the inclement blast and pelting sky: On Lear's own straw gipsies may rest their head, And trulls lie snug in Desdemona's bed."

The original picture is in the possession of Mr. Wood of Lyttlecote, who purchased it for twenty-six guineas!

MR. GARRICK IN THE CHARACTER OF RICHARD III.

"Give me another horse,--bind up my wounds,-- Have mercy, Jesu!--Soft; I did but dream.-- O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!-- The lights burn blue!--Is it not dead midnight? Cold, fearful drops hang on my trembling flesh."

Such is the exclamation of Richard, and such is the disposition of his mind at the moment of this delineation. In character and expression of countenance the artist has succeeded, but in resemblance--he has failed. The features have no likeness to the features of Mr. Garrick, and the figure gives an idea of a larger and more muscular man. The lamp, diffusing a dim religious light through the tent, the crucifix placed at his head, the crown and unsheathed sword at his hand, and the armour lying on the ground, are judicious and appropriate accompaniments. His helmet is crested with _a boar passant_, the armorial ensign of his family. Near it lies a piece of paper, on which is written,

"Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold, For Dickon thy master is bought and sold."

This paper was put in the Duke of Norfolk's tent the night before the engagement; but not being brought to Richard until after the time represented in this scene, can only be admitted by that poetical licence which has been generally allowed to poets and painters.

The figures in the distance, two of whom,

"Like sacrifices by their fires of watch, With patience sit, and inly ruminate The morning's danger,"

are properly introduced, and highly descriptive.

The tents of Richmond are so near,

"That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch."

Considered as a whole, the composition is simple, and the figures well drawn. The drapery illustrates his own precepts in the _Analysis_, where he says: "The robes of state are always made large and full, because they give a grandeur of appearance suitable to offices of the greatest distinction. The judges' robes have an awful dignity given them by the quantity of their contents; and when the train is held up, there is a noble waving line descending from the shoulders of the judge to the hand of his train-bearer. So, when the train is gently thrown aside, it generally falls into a great variety of folds, which again employ the eye, and fix its attention.

"The grandeur of the Eastern dress, which so far surpasses the European, depends as much on quantity as costliness. In a word, it is quantity which adds greatness to grace."

There was some propriety in Hogarth choosing to paint Mr. Garrick in this character. It was the first he appeared in, on the 19th of October 1741, at Goodman's Fields, and his performance gave proof of talents which merited the celebrity he afterwards attained. At that time Quin was the popular player; but his laboured action, hollow tones, and the manner in which he heaved up his words, were not borne after Garrick's easy, familiar, and yet forcible style had been seen by the town. The surly actor's remark upon this heresy of the critics was, that "all this was a new religion; but though Whitfield was followed for a time, the people would soon return to the true church." Garrick's epigram, in reply, has some point:

"Poor Quin, who damns all churches but his own, Complains that heresy corrupts the town: 'Schism,' he cries, 'has turned the nation's brain; But eyes will open,--and to church again!' Thou great infallible forbear to roar, Thy bulls and errors are rever'd no more; When doctrines meet with general approbation, It is not heresy, but reformation."

His soliloquy, written in the character of Quin, on seeing _Duke Humphrey_ at St. Albans, has humour:

"A plague on Egypt's arts, I say, Embalm the dead!--on senseless clay Rich wines and spices waste! Like sturgeon, or like brawn, shall I Drown'd in a precious pickle lie, Which I can never taste!

"Let me embalm this flesh of mine With turtle fat and Bourdeaux wine, And spoil the Egyptian trade; Than Humphrey's Duke, more happy I-- Embalm'd alive, old Quin shall die, A mummy ready made."

By Lord Orrery's[154] persuasions, Mr. Pope went to Goodman's Fields and saw Garrick in the first dawn of his fame. This great poet, who had formed his taste upon the solemn and dignified elevation of voice which distinguished Betterton (to whom he was so partial, that he once painted his portrait, which, until it was burnt in the riots of 1780, was in the possession of Lord Mansfield);--this great poet was so struck with the natural elocution of Mr. Garrick, that he exclaimed, "The young man will be flattered, and ruined; for there will be no competitor that can excite his emulation." His prophecy was in part fulfilled; for though Garrick had many competitors, he had no equal. In the course of his theatrical career he had frequent attacks, but they were generally foiled. One great source of his success was, that Shakspeare's plays were at that time becoming much more popular than they had been at any preceding period. Let it be recorded to the honour of our fair countrywomen, that this was in some degree owing to several ladies of the first rank and most distinguished taste, who had some years before formed themselves into a society to support, by their presence and encouragement, all the best plays of Shakspeare. They were called the Shakspeare Club, and every week ordered some favourite play of our divine bard; but the feeble powers of the performers were not sufficient to support the reviving taste of the public. The best among them thought that the whole art of playing consisted in measured, pompous periods, and that an approach to nature was a departure from eloquence. The pellucid stream of Avon was congealed by the coldness of their declamation, and the beams of Shakspeare enveloped in the vapour of their mock-heroic recitative. Until the appearance of this our Newton of the theatre, the drama was under a dense cloud: "he came, and all was light."

Mr. Garrick's profession was not adopted from necessity, but choice; and to him the profession is very materially obliged, for he has placed it in a much more respectable point of view than it ever had before.

His various powers as an actor, to those who have seen him, it is unnecessary to describe; to those who have not, it is impossible. His abilities as a writer were not of the first order, but they were by no means of the last. It has been remarked, that his prologues and epilogues had generally some allusion to eating: considered as local and temporary compositions, they have merit; and his epigrams, which usually turned upon some little circumstance of the day, have point. They sometimes drew forth additional flashes from his friends, and sometimes the retort of those at whom they were aimed; as in the following, addressed to the redoubted and eccentric Doctor Hill:--

"For physic and farces, Thy equal there scarce is; Thy farces are physic, Thy physic a farce is."

The two next were afterwards inserted in the public prints, and said to be the productions of some of Mr. Garrick's friends:--

"Thou essence of dock, of valerian, and sage, At once the disgrace and the pest of this age, The worst that we wish thee for all thy d---d crimes, Is to take thy own physic, and read thy own rhymes.

--"_The Junto._"

_Answer to the Junto._

"Their wish in form must be revers'd To suit the doctor's crimes; For he who takes his physic first, Will never read his rhymes.

--"_Another Junto._"

This was too bad, and the Doctor sent the following answer to one of the papers:--

"Ye desperate Junto, ye great, or ye small, Who combat dukes, doctors, the devil and all, Whether gentlemen scribblers, or poets in jail, Your impertinent curses shall never prevail: I'll take neither sage, dock, nor balsam of honey: Do you take the physic, and I'll take the money.

--"_Anti-Junto._"

Like his brethren of the sock and buskin, our English Roscius was honoured with much attention from the public prints. They gave us critical examinations of his powers, and critical disquisitions upon his defects; from an enumeration of which it was proved, clearly proved, that he would never be a good actor. The remarks of these ingenious gentlemen were soon forgotten: the testimony of an applauding public answered and refuted them. By way of antidote to these poisons, it must be acknowledged that Mr. Garrick's friends nearly surfeited the town with injudicious praise. Their flattery was gross enough to have disgusted any other man; but he had been so accustomed to strong doses of panegyric, that he could at last swallow them double distilled. I have said that he was an actor by choice; I might have added, that he was always an actor. Goldsmith's lines in retaliation are a true portrait:

"Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came, And the puff of a dunce--he mistook it for fame; Till his relish grown callous almost to disease, Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please. But let us be candid, and speak out our mind, If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind: Ye Kenricks, ye Kellys, ye Woodfalls so grave, What a commerce was yours, while you got and you gave! How did Grub Street re-echo the shouts that you rais'd, While he was be-Roscius'd, and you were be-prais'd! But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies, To act as an angel, and mix with the skies," etc.

The ode to the memory of Shakspeare, which he wrote and spoke at Stratford, with many weak lines, has some that show strong marks of a fervid imagination and vigorous mind. To instance the following:

"When Philip's fam'd, all-conquering son, Had every blood-stain'd laurel won, He sigh'd that his creative word, Like that which rules the skies, Could not bid other nations rise, To glut his yet unsated sword.

"But when our Shakspeare's matchless pen, Like Alexander's sword, had done with men, He heav'd no sigh, he made no moan; Not limited to human kind, He fir'd his wonder-teeming mind, Rais'd other worlds and beings of his own."[155]

Many of his _jeu d'esprits_ are related; the following I never saw recorded. When he and Quin strutted at the same theatre, and in the same play, the performance ending, and the night being rainy, each of them ordered a chair, and walked to the door of the playhouse. To the mortification of Quin, Garrick's chair came first: "Let me get into the chair," cried the surly veteran, "let me get into the chair, and put little Davy into the lantern." "By all means," replied Garrick, "I shall be happy to give Mr. Quin light in anything."

The little tribute which Doctor Johnson has paid to his memory is written from the heart: I cannot resist transcribing it:--

"At this man's (Mr. Walmsley's) table I enjoyed many cheerful and instructive hours with companions such as are not often to be found; with one who has heightened, and who has gladdened life: with Dr. James, whose skill in physic will be long remembered; and with David Garrick, whom I hoped to have gratified with this character of our common friend. But what are the hopes of man! I am disappointed by that stroke of death, which has eclipsed the gaiety of nations, and impoverished the public stock of harmless pleasure."--_Life of Edmund Smith._

Mr. Hogarth lived in habits of intimacy with David Garrick, who being President of the Shakspeare Club at the time of the Stratford Jubilee, our painter made him a drawing of a chair, which was afterwards wrought in mahogany. A medallion of Shakspeare, carved by Hogarth from a piece of the Stratford mulberry-tree, is suspended to the back of it.

The paintings of the "Harlot's Progress," and "Strolling Players," produced little more than a hundred guineas; but in such estimation are portraits, that the original picture from which this print was copied, in every point of view inferior, was purchased by the late Mr. Duncombe, of Duncombe Park, Yorkshire, at two hundred pounds! It still remains in his family. The print, by Mr. Hogarth's permission, was copied for a watch-paper.

INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS.

The following description of Mr. Hogarth's design in these twelve plates is copied from his own handwriting:--

"Industry and Idleness exemplified in the conduct of two fellow-'prentices; where the one by taking good courses, and pursuing points for which he was put apprentice, becomes a valuable man, and an ornament to his country; the other, by giving way to idleness, naturally falls into poverty, and ends fatally, as is expressed in the last print. As the prints were intended more for use than ornament, they were done in a way that might bring them within the purchase of those whom they might most concern; and lest any print should be mistaken, the description of each print is engraved at top."

Such is the professed intention of the artist, and such his apology for the manner in which these plates are engraved; for, as Mr. Walpole justly remarks, they have more merit in their intention than execution.

As a contrast to an idle and vicious character, who is brought to consequent misery and shame, his fellow-'prentice is depicted moral, attentive, and industrious; and, by regular and natural gradations, attains the highest dignities of the greatest city in Europe. This is making the pencil an instrument in the cause of virtue, holding up the mirror of morality and truth, and showing the fair reward of industry and integrity to be happiness, honour, and independence; and the inevitable consequences of idleness and vice to be poverty, misery, and shame.

The hint for contrasting these two very opposite characters is taken from the old play of _Eastward Hoe_, written by Ben Jonson, George Chapman, and John Marston, printed for William Aspley, 1605, and reprinted in Dodsley's collection. In this comedy, Touchstone, a plain and honest old citizen and goldsmith, has two apprentices, Golding and Quicksilver: the former is a counterpart of Hogarth's Goodchild, and the latter has many of the dispositions of Mr. Thomas Idle. Touchstone, in a proverbial and formal style, advises all who wish to become respectable, and acquire independence, to conduct themselves on the same principles that he had done, and by adherence to which he had gained his fortune:

"I hired me a little shop, bought low, took small profits, kept no debt book; garnished my shop (instead of plate) with good, wholesome, thrifty sentences: such as, 'Touchstone, keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee;' 'Light gains make a heavy purse;' 'It is good to be merry and wise,' etc. etc.

'Seek not to go beyond your tether, But cut your thong unto your leather; So shall you thrive by little and little, 'Scape Tyburn, Counter, and the Spittal.'"

The prologue concludes with what may serve as an explanatory apology for the prints as well as the play:

"Bear with our willing pains,--or dull or witty, We only dedicate it to the City."

Golding marries Touchstone's favourite daughter; and the old citizen, in the quaint style of that day, wishes he may live to see him "one of the monuments of the city, and reckoned among her worthies; to be remembered the same day with Lady Ramsey and grave Gresham, when the famous fable of Whittington and his puss shall be forgotten, and thou and thy acts become the posies for hospitals; when thy name shall be written upon conduits, and thy deeds played i' thy lifetime by the best company of actors, and be called their 'Get-penny;' this I divine and prophesy."

In the comedy, as in the prints, one of the scenes is laid at Cuckold's Haven; young Golding becoming a magistrate, Quicksilver is brought before him as a criminal, etc. etc.

PLATE I.

THE FELLOW-'PRENTICES AT THEIR LOOMS.

"The drunkard shall come to poverty; and drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags."--PROVERBS XXIII. 21.

"The hand of the diligent maketh rich."--PROVERBS X. 4.

At the time these twelve prints were published, the business of a silk weaver was considered as much more respectable and important than it has been since the general fashion of wearing linen. The first view we have of the two heroes of our history, is at the looms of their master, an inhabitant of Spitalfields. The assiduity of one of these young artisans is manifested in his countenance, and attention to the business he is engaged in. Over his head hang those two excellent old ballads, _Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London_, and _The Valiant Apprentice_. On the floor near him is the _'Prentice's Guide_, a book which our citizen probably presented to every young man he had under his care; for we see the same title on a mutilated volume at the feet of Mr. Thomas Idle, who, being asleep, has dropped his shuttle, which a cat is playing with. On the wall hangs the ballad of _Moll Flanders_, and very near him is a tobacco-pipe[156] and a porter pot; the somniferous qualities of these two narcotics have perhaps contributed to close his eyes. His appearance is consonant to his disposition; hair uncombed, collar unbuttoned, and worn-out coat, are strong indications of negligence and sloth. With angry eye, and cane lifted up, the master, just entering the room, seems very well disposed to punish his indolence and drowsiness; but these habits are too strongly rooted to be eradicated by chastisement.

Thus far is admirably thought, and intelligibly depicted; but the delineation, as far as regards the picturesque effect, is beneath criticism. The head of Master Francis Goodchild, placed between two square posts, looks as if it were stuck in the pillory; the physiognomy of Mister Thomas Idle is correctly correspondent with his depraved character; but the introduction of such a number of angles and parallel lines as the scene demanded, the artist's eye could never have borne upon any other principle than that given in his introductory declaration, "that the prints were intended for use more than ornament."

PLATE II.

THE INDUSTRIOUS 'PRENTICE PERFORMING THE DUTY OF A CHRISTIAN.

"O how I love Thy law! it is my meditation all the day."--PSALM CXIX. 97.

This plate displays our industrious young man attending divine service, in the same pew with his master's daughter, where he shows every mark of decent and devout attention.