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, 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."
FOOTNOTE:
[2] He was a respectable performer on the violin, some years
chapel-master at Antwerp, and several seasons leader of the band at
Marybone Gardens. He published a collection of musical compositions, to
which was annexed a portrait of himself, characterised by three lines
from Milton:
"Thou honour'dst verse, and verse must lend her wing
To honour thee, the priest of Phoebus' quire,
That tun'st her happiest lines in hymn or song."
He died in 1750, aged seventy years, and gives one additional name to a
catalogue I have somewhere seen of very old professors of music, who,
saith my author, "generally live unto a greater age than persons in any
other way of life, from their souls being so attuned unto harmony, that
they enjoy a perpetual peace of mind." It has been observed, and I
believe justly, that thinking is a great enemy to longevity, and that,
consequently, they who think least will be likely to live longest. The
quantity of thought necessary to make an adept in this divine science,
must be determined by those who have studied it.--It would seem by this
remark, that Mr. Ireland was not aware that to acquire proficiency in
the divine science to which he so pleasantly alludes, requires great
application and study.
[Illustration: THE CHORUS.]
COLUMBUS BREAKING THE EGG.
By the success of Columbus's first voyage, doubt had been changed into
admiration; from the honours with which he was rewarded, admiration
degenerated into envy. To deny that his discovery carried in its train
consequences infinitely more important than had resulted from any made
since the creation, was impossible. His enemies had recourse to another
expedient, and boldly asserted that there was neither wisdom in the
plan, nor hazard in the enterprise.
When he was once at a Spanish supper, the company took this ground, and
being by his narrative furnished with the reflections which had induced
him to undertake his voyage, and the course that he had pursued in its
completion, sagaciously observed, that "it was impossible for any man, a
degree above an idiot, to have failed of success. The whole process was
so obvious, it must have been seen by a man who was half blind! Nothing
could be so easy!"
"It is not difficult now I have pointed out the way," was the answer of
Columbus: "but easy as it will appear, when you are possessed of my
method, I do not believe that, without such instruction, any person
present could place one of these eggs upright on the table." The cloth,
knives, and forks were thrown aside, and two of the party, placing their
eggs as required, kept them steady with their fingers. One of them swore
there could be no other way. "We will try," said the navigator; and
giving an egg, which he held in his hand, a smart stroke upon the table,
it remained upright. The emotions which this excited in the company are
expressed in their countenances. In the be-ruffed booby at his left hand
it raises astonishment; he is a DEAR ME! man, of the same family with
Sterne's Simple Traveller, and came from Amiens only yesterday. The
fellow behind him, beating his head, curses his own stupidity; and the
whiskered ruffian, with his fore-finger on the egg, is in his heart
cursing Columbus. As to the two veterans on the other side, they have
lived too long to be agitated with trifles: he who wears a cap,
exclaims, "Is this all!" and the other, with a bald head, "By St. Jago,
I did not think of that!" In the face of Columbus there is not that
violent and excessive triumph which is exhibited by little characters on
little occasions; he is too elevated to be overbearing; and, pointing to
the conical solution of his problematical conundrum, displays a calm
superiority, and silent internal contempt.
Two eels, twisted round the eggs upon the dish, are introduced as
specimens of the line of beauty; which is again displayed on the
table-cloth, and hinted at on the knife-blade. In all these curves there
is peculiar propriety; for the etching was given as a receipt-ticket to
the Analysis, where this favourite undulating line forms the basis of
his system.
In the print of Columbus, there is evident reference to the criticisms
on what Hogarth called his own discovery; and in truth the connoisseurs'
remarks on the painter were dictated by a similar spirit to those of the
critics on the navigator: they first asserted there was no such line,
and when he had proved that there was, gave the honour of discovery to
Lomazzo, Michael Angelo, &c. &c.
[Illustration: COLUMBUS BREAKING THE EGG.]
A MIDNIGHT MODERN CONVERSATION.
"Think not to find one meant resemblance there;
We lash the vices, but the persons spare.
Prints should be priz'd, as authors should be read,
Who sharply smile prevailing folly dead.
So Rabelais laugh'd, and so Cervantes thought;
So nature dictated what art has taught."
Notwithstanding this inscription, which was engraved on the plate some
time after its publication, it is very certain that most of these
figures were intended for individual portraits; but Mr. Hogarth, not
wishing to be considered as a personal satirist, and fearful of making
enemies among his contemporaries, would never acknowledge who were the
characters. Some of them the world might perhaps mistake; for though the
author was faithful in delineating whatever he intended to portray,
complete intoxication so far caricatures the countenance, that,
according to the old, though trite proverb, "the man is not himself."
His portrait, though given with the utmost fidelity, will scarcely be
known by his most intimate friends, unless they have previously seen him
in this degrading disguise. Hence, it becomes difficult to identify men
whom the painter did not choose to point out at the time; and a century
having elapsed, it becomes impossible, for all who composed the group,
with the artist by whom it was delineated,
Shake hands with dust, and call the worm their kinsman.
Mrs. Piozzi was of opinion that the divine with a cork-screw,
occasionally used as a tobacco-stopper, hanging upon his little finger,
was the portrait of parson Ford, Dr. Johnson's uncle; though, upon the
authority of Sir John Hawkins, of anecdotish memory, it has been
generally supposed to be intended for Orator Henley. As both these
worthies were distinguished by that rubicundity of face with which it is
marked, the reader may decree the honour of a sitting to which he
pleases.
The roaring bacchanalian who stands next him, waving his glass in the
air, has pulled off his wig, and, in the zeal of his friendship, crowns
the divine's head. He is evidently drinking destruction to fanatics, and
success to mother church, or a mitre to the jolly parson whom he
addresses.
The lawyer, who sits near him, is a portrait of one Kettleby, a
vociferous bar-orator, who, though an utter barrister, chose to
distinguish himself by wearing an enormous full-bottom wig, in which he
is here represented. He was farther remarkable for a diabolical squint,
and a satanic smile.
A poor maudlin miserable, who is addressing him, when sober, must be a
fool; but, in this state, it would puzzle Lavater to assign him a proper
class. He seems endeavouring to demonstrate to the lawyer, that, in a
poi--poi--point of law, he has been most cruelly cheated, and lost a
cau--cau--cause, that he ought to have got,--and all this was owing to
his attorney being an infernal villain. This may very probably be true;
for the poor man's tears show that, like the person relieved by the good
Samaritan, he has been among thieves. The barrister grins horribly at
his misfortunes, and tells him he is properly punished for not employing
a gentleman.
Next to him sits a gentleman in a black periwig. He politely turns his
back to the company, that he may have the pleasure of smoking a sociable
pipe.
The justice, "in fair round belly, with good capon lin'd,"--the justice,
having hung up his hat, wig, and cloak, puts on his nightcap, and, with
a goblet of superior capacity before him, sits in solemn cogitation. His
left elbow, supported by the table, and his right by a chair, with a
pipe in one hand, and a stopper in the other, he puffs out the bland
vapour with the dignity of an alderman, and fancies himself as great as
Jupiter, seated upon the summit of Mount Olympus, enveloped by the thick
cloud which his own breath has created.
With folded arms and open mouth, another leans back in his chair. His
wig is dropped from his head, and he is asleep; but though speechless,
he is sonorous; for you clearly perceive that, where nasal sounds are
the music, he is qualified to be leader of the band.
The fallen hero, who with his chair and goblet has tumbled to the floor,
by the cockade in his hat, we suppose to be an officer. His forehead is
marked, perhaps with honourable scars. To wash his wounds, and cool his
head, the staggering apothecary bathes it with brandy.
A gentleman in the corner, who, from having the Craftsman and London
Evening in his pocket, we determine to be a politician, very unluckily
mistakes his ruffle for the bowl of his pipe, and sets fire to it.
The person in a bag-wig and solitaire, with his hand upon his head,
would not now pass for a fine gentleman, but in the year 1735 was a
complete beau. Unaccustomed to such joyous company, he appears to have
drank rather more than agrees with him.
The company consists of eleven, and on the chimney-piece, floor, and
table, are three and twenty empty flasks. These, added to a bottle which
the apothecary holds in his hand, prove that this select society have
not lost a moment. The overflowing bowl, full goblets, and charged
glasses, prove that they think, "'Tis too early to part," though the
dial points to four in the morning.
The different degrees of drunkenness are well discriminated, and its
effects admirably described. The poor simpleton, who is weeping out his
woes to honest lawyer Kettleby, it makes mawkish; the beau it makes
sick; and the politician it stupifies. One is excited to roaring, and
another lulled to sleep. It half closes the eyes of justice, renders the
footing of physic unsure, and lays prostrate the glory of his country,
and the pride of war.
[Illustration: A MIDNIGHT MODERN CONVERSATION.]
CONSULTATION OF PHYSICIANS--THE UNDERTAKERS' ARMS.
This plate is designed, with much humour, according to the rules of
heraldry, and is called The Undertakers' Arms, to show us the connexion
between death and the quack doctor, as are also those cross-bones on the
outside of the escutcheon. When an undertaker is in want of business, he
cannot better apply than to some of those gentlemen of the faculty, who
are, for the most part, so charitably disposed, as to supply the
necessities of these sable death-hunters, and keep them from starving in
a healthy time. By the tenour of this piece, Mr. Hogarth would intimate
the general ignorance of such of the medical tribe, and teach us that
they possess little more knowledge than their voluminous wigs and
golden-headed canes. They are represented in deep consultation upon the
contents of an urinal. Our artist's own illustration of this coat of
arms, as he calls it, is as follows: "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, _Nebulae_,
ermine, one complete doctor, issuant, checkie, sustaining in his right
hand a baton of the second. On the dexter and sinister sides, 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_. The general image of death."
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.
Many of them are unquestionably portraits, but as these grave and sage
descendants of Galen are long since gone to that place where they before
sent their patients, we are unable to ascertain any of them, except the
three who are, for distinction, placed in the chief, or most honourable
part of the escutcheon. Those who, from their exalted situation, we may
naturally conclude the most distinguished and sagacious leeches of
their day, have marks too obtrusive to be mistaken. He towards the
dexter side of the escutcheon, is determined by an eye in the head of
his cane to be the all-accomplished Chevalier Taylor, in whose
marvellous and surprising history, written by his own hand, and
published in 1761, is recorded such events relative to himself and
others, as have excited more astonishment than that incomparable
romance, Don Belianis of Greece, the Arabian Nights, or Sir John
Mandeville's Travels.
The centre figure, arrayed in a harlequin jacket, with a bone, or what
the painter denominates a baton, in the right hand, is generally
considered designed for Mrs. Mapp, a masculine woman, daughter to one
Wallin, a bone-setter at Hindon, in Wiltshire. This female Thalestris,
incompatible as it may seem with her sex, adopted her father's
profession, travelled about the country, calling herself Crazy Sally;
and, like another Hercules, did wonders by strength of arm.
On the sinister side is Dr. Ward, generally called Spot Ward, from his
left cheek being marked with a claret colour. This gentleman was of a
respectable family, and though not highly educated, had talents very
superior to either of his coadjutors.
For the chief, this must suffice; as for the twelve quack heads, and
twelve cane heads, or, consultant, united with the cross bones at the
corners, they have a most mortuary appearance, and do indeed convey a
general image of death.
In the time of Lucian, a philosopher was distinguished by three
things,--his avarice, his impudence, and his beard. In the time of
Hogarth, medicine was a mystery, and there were three things which
distinguished the physician,--his gravity, his cane-head, and his
periwig. With these leading requisites, this venerable party are most
amply gifted. To specify every character is not necessary; but the upper
figure on the dexter side, with a wig like a weeping willow, should not
be overlooked. His lemon-like aspect must curdle the blood of all his
patients. In the countenances of his brethren there is no want of acids;
but, however sour, each individual was in his day,
----------------a doctor of renown,
To none but such as rust in health unknown;
And, save or slay, this privilege they claim,
Or death, or life, the bright reward's the same.
[Illustration: CONSULTATION OF PHYSICIANS.]
DANIEL LOCK, ESQ. F.A.S.
Daniel Lock was an architect of some eminence. He retired from business
with an ample fortune, lived in Surrey-street, and was buried in the
chapel of Trinity College, Cambridge. This portrait was originally
engraved by J. M'Ardell from a painting by Hogarth, and is classed among
the productions of our artist that are of uncertain date.
[Illustration: DANIEL LOCK, ESQ. F.A.S.]
THE ENRAGED MUSICIAN.
"With thundering noise the azure vault they tear,
And rend, with savage roar, the echoing air:
The sounds terrific he with horror hears;
His fiddle throws aside,--and stops his ears."
We have seen displayed the distress of a poet; in this the artist has
exhibited the rage of a musician. Our poor bard bore his misfortunes
with patience, and, rich in his Muse, did not much repine at his
poverty. Not so this master of harmony, of heavenly harmony! To the
evils of poverty he is now a stranger; his _adagios_ and _cantabiles_
have procured him the protection of nobles; and, contrary to the poor
shirtless mendicant of the Muses that we left in a garret, he is arrayed
in a coat decorated with frogs, a bag-wig, solitaire, and ruffled shirt.
Waiting in the chamber of a man of fashion, whom he instructs in the
divine science of music, having first tuned his instrument, he opens his
crotchet-book, shoulders his violin, flourishes his fiddle-stick, and,
Softly sweet, in Lydian measure,
Soon he soothes his soul to pleasure.
Rapt in Elysium at the divine symphony, he is awakened from his beatific
vision, by noises that distract him.
----------An universal hubbub wild,
Of stunning sounds, and voices all confus'd,
Assails his ears with loudest vehemence.
Confounded with the din, and enraged by the interruption, our modern
Terpander starts from his seat, and opens the window. This operates as
air to a kindling fire; and such a combination of noises burst upon the
auricular nerve, that he is compelled to stop his ears,--but to stop the
torrent is impossible!
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain,
Break his bands of thought asunder!
And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder;
At the horrible sound
He has rais'd up his head,
As awak'd from the dead,
And amazed he stares all around.
In this situation he is delineated; and those who for a moment
contemplate the figures before him, cannot wonder at his rage.
A crew of hell-hounds never ceasing bark,
With wide Cerberean mouth, full loud, and ring
A hideous peal.
Of the _dramatis personae_ who perform the vocal parts, the first is a
fellow, in a tone that would rend hell's concave, bawling, "Dust, ho!
dust, ho! dust!" Next to him, an amphibious animal, who nightly pillows
his head on the sedgy bosom of old Thames, in a voice that emulates the
rush of many waters, or the roaring of a cataract, is bellowing
"Flounda,a,a,ars!" A daughter of May-day, who dispenses what in London
is called milk, and is consequently a milk-maid, in a note pitched at
the very top of her voice, is crying, "Be-louw!" While a ballad-singer
dolefully drawls out The Ladie's Fall, an infant in her arms joins its
treble pipe in chorus with the screaming parrot, which is on a lamp-iron
over her head. On the roof of an opposite house are two cats, performing
what an amateur of music might perhaps call a bravura duet; near them
appears
A sweep, shrill twittering on the chimney-top.
A little French drummer, singing to his rub-a-dub, and the agreeable
yell of a dog, complete the vocal performers.
Of the instrumental, a fellow blowing a horn, with a violence that would
have almost shaken down the walls of Jericho, claims the first notice;
next to him, the dustman rattles his bell with ceaseless clangour, until
the air reverberates the sound.
The intervals are filled up by a paviour, who, to every stroke of his
rammer, adds a loud, distinct, and echoing, Haugh! The pedestrian cutler
is grinding a butcher's cleaver with such earnestness and force, that it
elicits sparks of fire. This, added to the agonizing howls of his
unfortunate dog, must afford a perfect specimen of the ancient
chromatic. The poor animal, between a man and a monkey, piping harsh
discords upon a hautboy, the girl whirling her _crepitaculum_, or
rattle, and the boy beating his drum, conclude the catalogue of this
harmonious band.
This delineation originated in a story which was told to Hogarth by the
late Mr. John Festin, who is the hero of the print. He was eminent for
his skill in playing upon the German flute and hautboy, and much
employed as a teacher of music. To each of his scholars he devoted one
hour each day. "At nine o'clock in the morning," said he, "I once waited
upon my lord Spencer, but his lordship being out of town, from him I
went to Mr. V----n. It was so early that he was not arisen. I went into
his chamber, and, opening a shutter, sat down in the window-seat. Before
the rails was a fellow playing upon the hautboy. A man with a barrow
full of onions offered the piper an onion if he would play him a tune.
That ended, he offered a second onion for a second tune; the same for a
third, and was going on: but this was too much; I could not bear it; it
angered my very soul--'Zounds!' said I, 'stop here! This fellow is
ridiculing my profession; he is playing on the hautboy for onions!'"
The whole of this bravura scene is admirably represented. A person
quaintly enough observed, that it deafens one to look at it.
[Illustration: THE ENRAGED MUSICIAN.]
MASQUERADES AND OPERAS.
BURLINGTON GATE.
This print appeared in 1723. Of the three small figures in the centre
the middle one is Lord Burlington, a man of considerable taste in
painting and architecture, but who ranked Mr. Kent, an indifferent
artist, above his merit. On one side of the peer is Mr. Campbell, the
architect; on the other, his lordship's postilion. On a show-cloth in
this plate is also supposed to be the portrait of king George II. who
gave 1000_l._ towards the Masquerade; together with that of the earl of
Peterborough, who offers Cuzzoni, the Italian singer, 8000_l._ and she
spurns at him. Mr. Heidegger, the regulator of the Masquerade, is also
exhibited, looking out of a window, with the letter H under him.
The substance of the foregoing remarks is taken from a collection lately
belonging to Captain Baillie, where it is said that they were furnished
by an eminent connoisseur.