[1] Two of the prints must be excepted: "Time smoking a Picture," and
"The Bathos," are addressed to the connoisseurs.
[2] Mr. Walker, who has so eminently distinguished himself by his
lectures on natural philosophy, has described the effect resulting
from one of this rude bard's productions:--
"_To Mr. Nichols._
"I must leave you to the annals of fame for the rest of the
anecdotes of this great genius, and shall endeavour to show
you that his family possessed similar talents; but they were
destined, like the wild rose,
'To waste their sweetness in the desert air.'
"Happy should I be to rescue from oblivion the name of auld
Hogarth, whose songs and quibbles have so often delighted my
childhood! These simple strains of this mountain Theocritus
were fabricated while he held the plough, or was leading his
fuel from the hills. He was as critical an observer of nature
as his nephew, for the narrow field he had to view her in: not
an incident or an absurdity in the neighbourhood escaped him.
If any one was hardy enough to break through any decorum of old
and established repute; if any one attempted to overreach his
neighbour, or cast a leering eye at his wife, he was sure to hear
himself sung over the whole parish, nay, to the very boundaries
of the Westmoreland dialect! so that his songs were said to have
a greater effect on the manners of his neighbourhood, than even
the sermons of the parson himself. But his poetical talents were
not confined to the incidents of his village; I myself have had
the honour to bear a part in one of his plays (I say _one_, for
there are several of them extant in _MS._ in the mountains of
Westmoreland to this hour). The play was called _The Destruction
of Troy_; it was written in metre, much in the manner of _Lopez
de Vega_, or the ancient French drama. The unities were not
too strictly observed, for the siege of ten years was all
represented: every hero was in the piece, so that the _dramatis
personæ_ consisted of every lad of genius in the whole parish.
The wooden horse;--Hector dragged by the heels;--the fury of
Diomede;--the flight of Æneas;--and the burning of the city, were
all represented. I remember not what fairies had to do in all
this; but as I happened to be about three feet high at the time
of this still talked of exhibition, I personated one of these
tiny beings. The stage was a fabrication of boards, placed about
six feet high, on strong posts; the green-room was partitioned
off with the same materials; its ceiling was the azure canopy of
heaven; and the boxes, pit, and galleries, were laid into one
by the great Author of nature, for they were the green slope
of a fine hill. Despise not, reader, this humble state of the
provincial drama: let me tell you, there were more spectators,
for three days together, than your three theatres in London would
hold; and let me add, still more to your confusion, that you
never saw an audience half so well pleased.
"The exhibition was begun with a grand procession from the
village, to a great stone (dropped by the Devil, about a
quarter of a mile off, when he tried in vain to erect a bridge
across Windermere; so the people, unlike the rest of the world,
have remained a good sort of people ever since),--I say, the
procession was begun by the minstrels of five parishes, and
followed by a yeoman on bull-back. You stare--stop then, till I
inform you that this adept had so far civilised his bull, that
he would suffer the yeoman to mount his back, and even to play
upon the fiddle there. The managers besought him to join the
procession; but the bull not being accustomed to much company,
and particularly to so much applause,--whether he was intoxicated
with praise, thought himself affronted and made game of, or
whether a favourite cow came across his imagination, certain it
was that he broke out of the procession, erected his tail, and,
like another _Europa_, carried off the affrighted yeoman and his
fiddle over hedge and ditch, till he arrived at his own field.
This accident rather inflamed than depressed the good humour
arising from the procession; and the clown, or Jack Pudding of
the piece, availed himself so well of the incident, that the
lungs and ribs of the spectators were in manifest danger. This
character was the most important personage in the whole play; for
his office was to turn the most serious parts of the drama into
burlesque and ridicule; he was a compound of Harlequin and the
Merry-Andrew, or rather the arch-fool of the ancient kings. His
dress was a white jacket covered with bulls, bears, birds, fish,
etc., cut in various-coloured cloth; his trousers were decorated
in like manner, and hung round with small bells; and his cap
was that of folly, decorated with bells, and an otter's brush
impending. The lath sword must be of great antiquity in this
island, for it hath been the appendage of a Jack Pudding in the
mountains of Westmoreland time out of mind.
"The play was opened by this character, with a song, which
answered the double purpose of a play-bill and a prologue, for
his duty gave the audience a foretaste of the rueful incidents
they were about to behold; and it called out the actors one
by one to make the spectators acquainted with their names and
characters, walking round and round, till the whole _dramatis
personæ_ made one great circle on the stage. The audience
being thus become acquainted with the actors, the play opened
with Paris running away with Helen, and Menelaus scampering
after them. Then followed the death of Patroclus, the rage of
Achilles, the persuasions of Ulysses, etc. etc., and the whole
was interlarded with apt songs, both serious and comic, all the
production of auld Hogarth. The bard, however, at this time had
been dead some years, and I believe this _fête_ was a jubilee to
his memory: but let it not detract from the memory of Mr. Garrick
to say, that his at Stratford was but a copy of one forty years
ago on the banks of Windermere. Was it any improvement, think
you, to introduce several bulls into the procession instead of
one?--But I love not comparisons, and so conclude.--Yours, etc.,
"ADAM WALKER."
[3] It was written for the information of Marshal Belisle, then a
prisoner in Windsor Castle.
[4] In Mr. Walpole's Anecdotes of Painting, vol. iv. p. 161, we are
told that "_his apprenticeship was no sooner expired, than he entered
into the academy in St. Martin's Lane, and studied drawing from the
life_." In this circumstance, which is in itself trifling, I think
the Right Honourable author has not displayed his usual accuracy.
Hogarth was emancipated from his Cranbourn Alley confinement about
the year 1718, at which time, I believe, there was not an academy
either in that or any other part of London. The first for the use
of students in drawing was opened in 1724, by Sir James Thornhill,
at his house in Covent Garden. On his death, which was in May 1734,
the casts, models, benches, etc., were sent to Mr. Hogarth (who
had four years before married Miss Thornhill); by him they were
afterwards lent to an academy established at what had previously been
_Roubiliac's workshop_, in St. Martin's Lane.
[5] This gentleman was also _a patron_ to the late Mr. Major the
engraver, who told me that when very young, and on the point of going
to Paris for improvement in his profession, he took two plates of
small landscapes, which he had just finished, to Mr. Bowles, who
expressed himself much pleased with the performance of them, and
_generously_ proffered him two pieces of plain copper, of the same
size and weight,--by practising on which, he might still further
_improve_ himself. When I add, that one of the engravings delivered
to this _patron_ was that very pretty little landscape inscribed
EVENING, it is scarcely necessary to say--the offer was rejected.
[6] On a piece of newspaper, dated 1786, and pasted in one of Dr.
Lort's books, was the following remark:--
"The _Hogarth mania_ is as strong as ever. On Thursday the 6th
of April,--it should have been the first,--the Roman Military
Punishments, a paltry work for which no bookseller seven years ago
would have offered more than a few shillings, was sold at Greenwood's
for six pounds, on account of some trifling plates in it by Hogarth."
In the sale of Doctor Lort's library at Leigh and Sotheby's, in 1790,
a copy of Bever's book produced a still larger sum.
[7] In this _improved era_ we have seen examples of _striking
portraits_ which every year assume a new title. A head of Dr.
Franklin was lately transferred from the book for which it was
engraven to the memoirs of a man executed for forgery, whose name it
now bears; _another age_ may see the same print honoured with the
name of some eminent _pugilist_, who at the close of the eighteenth
century _wore the collar of his order_! Such are _the transmigrations
of the arts_,--or, if it better please the reader, _the arts of
transmigration_. Among the _Paternoster Row classics_, there is no
other distinction between a bruiser, a felon, or a philosopher, than
arises from the sale of their memoirs.
[8] On the print of Hudibras and the Lawyer is _William Hogart delin.
et sculp'._ This Mr. Nichols considers as a proof that _Hogarth had
not yet disused the original mode in which he spelt his name_.
From his shop-bill, and every preceding print, I am inclined to
think he never had more than _one mode_ of spelling his name. The
concluding _h_ being in this instance omitted, might arise from
carelessness, or a failure of the aquafortis. His father's Latin
letter, dated 1697, proves that _he_ inserted the final _h_, and I
can discover no reason why his son should discard it.
[9] For this, and some other assistance, Mr. Tyers presented Hogarth
with a gold ticket of admission for himself and friends. On the face,
two figures, one nearly naked, the other armed with a helmet and
shield, are represented on the point of joining hands:--_motto_ round
them, VIRTUS VOLUPTAS; and at the lower part, FELICES UNA. On the
reverse, HOGARTH----IN PERPETUAM BENEFICII MEMORIAM.
This ticket is now in the possession of Mrs. Lewis, of Chiswick.
[10] It seems probable that Sir James was very soon reconciled, for
we find in the Craftsman of March 10, 1732-3, that when Hogarth
painted the portrait of Sarah Malcolm, Sir James Thornhill was
present.
[11] The sum and purchasers of each are noticed in the account of the
engravings.
[12] Among the papers of a lately deceased Virtuosi, I met with
a few MS. sheets, entitled _Hints for a History of the Arts in
Great Britain, from the Accession of the Third George_. The
following extract proves that painting pictures, _called after_
the ancient masters, was not confined to Italy: we had in England
some industrious and laborious artists who, like the unfortunate
Chatterton, gave the honours of their best performances to others.
The narrative has no date, but some allusions to a late sovereign
determine it was a short time before we discovered that there were in
our own poets subjects as worthy of the pencil as any found in the
idle tales of antiquity, or the still more idle legends of popery:--
"The late edict of the Emperor, for selling the pictures of which he
has despoiled the convents, will be a very fortunate circumstance
for many of the artists of this country, whose sole employment is
_painting old pictures_; and this will be a glorious opportunity for
introducing _modern antiques_ into the cabinets of the curious.
"A most indefatigable dealer, apprehensive that there might be
a difficulty, and enormous expense in procuring from abroad a
sufficient quantity to gratify the eagerness of the English
connoisseurs, has taken the more economical method of having a number
painted here. The bill of one of his workmen, which came into my
hands by an accident, I think worth preservation, and have taken a
copy for the information of future ages. Every picture is at present
most sacredly preserved from the public eye, but in the course of
a few months will be smoked into antiquity, and may probably be
announced in manner and form following:--
"TO THE LOVERS OF VIRTU.
"Mr. ---- has the heartfelt pleasure of congratulating the amateurs
of the fine arts upon such an opportunity of enriching their
collections, as no period from the days of the divine Apelles to the
present irradiated era ever produced; nor is it probable that there
ever will be in any future age so splendid, superb, brilliant, and
matchless an assemblage of unrivalled pictures as he begs leave to
announce to the connoisseurs are now exhibiting at his great room
in ----, being the principal part of that _magnificent bouquet_
which have been accumulating for so many ages, been preserved with
religious care, and contemplated with pious awe, while they had an
holy refuge in the peaceful gloom of the convents of Germany. By the
edict of the Emperor they are banished from these consecrated walls,
and are now emerged from obscurity with undiminished lustre! with
all their native charms, mellowed by the tender, softening pencil of
time, and introduced to this emporium of taste! this favourite seat
of the arts! this exhibition-room of the universe; and when seen,
must produce the most pleasing and delightful sensations.
"When it is added, that they were selected by that most judicious and
quick-sighted collector, Monsieur D., it will be unnecessary to say
more; for his penetrating eye and unerring judgment, his boundless
liberality and unremitting industry, have ensured him the protection
of a generous public, ever ready to patronize exertions made solely
for their gratification!
"N.B.--Descriptive catalogues, with the names of the immortal
artists, may be had as above."