PLATE X.
THE INDUSTRIOUS 'PRENTICE ALDERMAN OF LONDON; THE IDLE ONE BROUGHT
BEFORE HIM, AND IMPEACHED BY HIS ACCOMPLICE.
"Thou shalt do no unrighteousness in judgment." Leviticus, chap.
xix. verse 15.
"The wicked is snared in the work of his own hands." Psalms, chap.
ix. verse 16.
Imagine now this depraved and atrocious youth hand-cuffed, and dragged
from his wicked haunt, through the streets to a place of security,
amidst the scorn and contempt of a jeering populace; and thence brought
before the sitting magistrate, (who, to heighten the scene and support
the contrast, is supposed to be his fellow-'prentice, now chosen an
alderman,) in order to be dealt with according to law. See him then at
last having run his course of iniquity, fallen into the hands of
justice, being betrayed by his accomplice; a further proof of the
perfidy of man, when even partners in vice are unfaithful to each other.
This is the only print among the set, excepting the first, where the two
principal characters are introduced; in which Mr. Hogarth has shown his
great abilities, as well in description, as in a particular attention to
the uniformity and connexion of the whole. He is now at the bar, with
all the marks of guilt imprinted on his face. How, if his fear will
permit him to reflect, must he think on the happiness and exaltation of
his fellow-'prentice on the one hand, and of his own misery and
degradation on the other! at one instant, he condemns the persuasions of
his wicked companions; at another, his own idleness and obstinacy:
however, deeply smitten with his crime, he sues the magistrate, upon his
knees, for mercy, and pleads in his cause the former acquaintance that
subsisted between them, when they both dwelt beneath the same roof, and
served the same common master: but here was no room for lenity, murder
was his crime, and death must be his punishment; the proofs are
incontestable, and his mittimus is ordered, which the clerk is drawing
out. Let us next turn our thoughts upon the alderman, in whose breast a
struggle between mercy and justice is beautifully displayed. Who can
behold the magistrate, here, without praising the man? How fine is the
painter's thoughts of reclining the head on one hand, while the other is
extended to express the pity and shame he feels that human nature should
be so depraved! It is not the golden chain or scarlet robe that
constitutes the character, but the feelings of the heart. To show us
that application for favour, by the ignorant, is often idly made to the
servants of justice, who take upon themselves on that account a certain
state and consequence, not inferior to magistracy, the mother of our
delinquent is represented in the greatest distress, as making interest
with the corpulent self-swoln constable, who with an unfeeling concern
seems to say, "Make yourself easy, for he must be hanged;" and to
convince us that bribery will even find its way into courts of
judicature, here is a woman feeing the swearing clerk, who has stuck his
pen behind his ear that his hands might be both at liberty; and how much
more his attention is engaged to the money he is taking, than to the
administration of the oath, may be known from the ignorant, treacherous
witness being suffered to lay his left hand upon the book; strongly
expressive of the sacrifice, even of sacred things, to the inordinate
thirst of gain.
From Newgate (the prison to which he was committed; where, during his
continuance he lay chained in a dismal cell, deprived of the
cheerfulness of light, fed upon bread and water, and left without a bed
to rest on) the prisoner was removed to the bar of judgment, and
condemned to die by the laws of his country.
[Illustration: INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS.
PLATE 10.
THE INDUSTRIOUS 'PRENTICE ALDERMAN OF LONDON. THE IDLE ONE IMPEACHED
BEFORE HIM BY HIS ACCOMPLICE.]
INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS.
PLATE XI.
THE IDLE 'PRENTICE EXECUTED AT TYBURN.
"When fear cometh as desolation, and their destruction cometh as a
whirlwind; when distress cometh upon them, then shall they call upon
God, but he will not answer." Proverbs, chapter i. verse 7, 8.
Thus, after a life of sloth, wretchedness, and vice, does our delinquent
terminate his career. Behold him, on the dreadful morn of execution,
drawn in a cart (attended by the sheriff's officers on horseback, with
his coffin behind him) through the public streets to Tyburn, there to
receive the just reward of his crimes,--a shameful ignominious death.
The ghastly appearance of his face, and the horror painted on his
countenance, plainly show the dreadful situation of his mind; which we
must imagine to be agitated with shame, remorse, confusion, and terror.
The careless position of the Ordinary at the coach window is intended to
show how inattentive those appointed to that office are of their duty,
leaving it to others, which is excellently expressed by the itinerant
preacher in the cart, instructing from a book of Wesley's. Mr. Hogarth
has in this print, digressing from the history and moral of the piece,
taken an opportunity of giving us a humorous representation of an
execution, or a Tyburn Fair: such days being made holidays, produce
scenes of the greatest riot, disorder, and uproar; being generally
attended by hardened wretches, who go there, not so much to reflect upon
their own vices, as to commit those crimes which must in time inevitably
bring them to the same shameful end. In confirmation of this, see how
earnestly one boy watches the motions of the man selling his cakes,
while he is picking his pocket; and another waiting to receive the
booty! We have here interspersed before us a deal of low humour, but
such as is common on occasions like this. In one place we observe an old
bawd turning up her eyes and drinking a glass of gin, the very picture
of hypocrisy; and a man indecently helping up a girl into the same cart;
in another, a soldier sunk up to his knees in a bog, and two boys
laughing at him, are well imagined. Here we see one almost squeezed to
death among the horses; there, another trampled on by the mob. In one
part is a girl tearing the face of a boy for oversetting her barrow; in
another, a woman beating a fellow for throwing down her child. Here we
see a man flinging a dog among the crowd by the tail; there a woman
crying the dying speech of Thomas Idle, printed the day before his
execution; and many other things too minute to be pointed out: two,
however, we must not omit taking notice of, one of which is the letting
off a pigeon, bred at the gaol, fly from the gallery, which hastes
directly home; an old custom, to give an early notice to the keeper and
others, of the turning off or death of the criminal; and that of the
executioner smoking his pipe at the top of the gallows, whose position
of indifference betrays an unconcern that nothing can reconcile with the
shocking spectacle, but that of use having rendered his wretched office
familiar to him; whilst it declares a truth, which every character in
this plate seems to confirm, that a sad and distressful object loses its
power of affecting by being frequently seen.
[Illustration: INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS.
PLATE 11.
THE IDLE 'PRENTICE EXECUTED AT TYBURN.]
INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS.
PLATE XII.
THE INDUSTRIOUS 'PRENTICE LORD MAYOR OF LONDON.
"Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left hand riches
and honour." Proverbs, chap. iii. ver. 16.
Having seen the ignominious end of the idle apprentice, nothing remains
but to represent the completion of the other's happiness; who is now
exalted to the highest honour, that of Lord Mayor of London; the
greatest reward that ancient and noble city can bestow on diligence and
integrity. Our artist has here, as in the last plate, given a loose to
his humour, in representing more of the low part of the Lord Mayor's
show than the magnificent; yet the honour done the city, by the presence
of the Prince and Princess of Wales, is not forgotten. The variety of
comic characters in this print serves to show what generally passes on
such public processions as these, when the people collect to gratify
their childish curiosity, and indulge their wanton disposition, or
natural love of riot. The front of this plate exhibits the oversetting
of a board, on which some girls had stood, and represents them sprawling
upon the ground; on the left, at the back of the scaffold, is a fellow
saluting a fair nymph, and another enjoying the joke: near him is a
blind man straggled in among the crowd, and joining in the general
halloo: before him is a militia-man, so completely intoxicated as not to
know what he is doing; a figure of infinite humour. Though Mr. Hogarth
has here marked out two or three particular things, yet his chief
intention was to ridicule the city militia, which was at this period
composed of undisciplined men, of all ages, sizes, and height; some fat,
some lean, some tall, some short, some crooked, some lame, and in
general so unused to muskets, that they knew not how to carry them. One,
we observe, is firing his piece and turning his head another way, at
whom the man above is laughing, and at which the child is frightened.
The boy on the right, crying, "A full and true account of the ghost of
Thomas Idle," which is supposed to have appeared to the Mayor,
preserves the connexion of the whole work. The most obtrusive figure in
his Lordship's coach is Mr. Swordbearer, in a cap like a reversed
saucepan, which this great officer wears on these grand occasions. The
company of journeymen butchers, with their marrow-bones and cleavers,
appear to be the most active, and are by far the most noisy of any who
grace this solemnity. Numberless spectators, upon every house and at
every window, dart their desiring eyes on the procession; so great
indeed was the interest taken by the good citizens of London in these
civic processions that, formerly, it was usual in a London lease to
insert a clause, giving a right to the landlord and his friends to stand
in the balcony, during the time of "the shows or pastimes, upon the day
commonly called the Lord Mayor's Day."
Thus have we seen, by a series of events, the prosperity of the one and
the downfall of the other; the riches and honour that crown the head of
industry, and the ignominy and destruction that await the slothful.
After this it would be unnecessary to say which is the most eligible
path to tread. Lay the roads but open to the view, and the traveller
will take the right of course; give but the boy this history to peruse,
and his future welfare is almost certain.
[Illustration: INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS.
PLATE 12.
THE INDUSTRIOUS 'PRENTICE LORD MAYOR OF LONDON.]
SOUTHWARK FAIR.
The subject of the plate under consideration is that of the Borough
Fair; a fair held some time since in the Borough of Southwark, though
now suppressed. This fair was attended, generally, by the inhabitants of
town and country, and, therefore, was one that afforded great variety;
especially as, before its suppression, it was devoted to every thing
loose and irregular. A view of the scene, of which the following print
is a faithful representation, will affirm this truth.
The principal view upon the left represents the fall of a scaffold, on
which was assembled a strolling company, pointed out, by the paper
lantern hanging in front, to be that belonging to Cibber and Bullock,
ready dressed to exhibit "The Fall of Bajazet." Here we see
merry-andrews, monkeys, queens and emperors, sinking in one general
confusion; and, that the crash may appear the greater, the stand beneath
is humorously supposed to consist of earthenware and china.
Notwithstanding this fatal overthrow, few below are seen to notice it;
witness the boys and woman gambling at the box and dice, the upright
monkey, and the little bag-piper dancing his wooden figures. Above this
scaffold hangs a painting, the subject of which is the stage mutiny;
whose figures are as follow:--On one side is Pistol, (strutting and
crying out, "Pistol's alive,") Falstaff, Justice Shallow, and many other
characters of Shakspeare. On the other, the manager bearing in his hand
a paper, on which is written, "it cost 6000_l._" a scene-painter, who
has laid his brushes aside, and taken up a cudgel; and a woman holding
an ensign, bearing the words, "We'll starve 'em out." In the corner is a
man, quiet and snug, hugging a bag of money, laughing at the folly of
the rest; and behind, a monkey, perched upon a sign iron, supposed to be
that of the Rose Tavern in Drury-lane, squeaking out, "I am a
gentleman." These paintings are in general designed to show what is
exhibited within; but this alludes to a dispute that arose at the time
when this print was published, which was in the year 1733, between the
players and the patentee of Drury-lane Theatre, when young Cibber, the
son of the Laureate, was at the head of the faction. Above, on one
side, is an equilibrist swinging on a slack rope; and on the other, a
man flying from the tower to the ground, by means of a groove fastened
to his breast, slipping over a line strained from one place to the
other. At the back of this plate is Lee and Harper's great booth, where,
by the picture of the wooden horse, we are told, is represented "The
Siege of Troy." The next paintings consist of the fall of Adam and Eve,
and a scene in Punch's opera. Beneath is a mountebank, exalted on a
stage, eating fire to attract the public attention; while his
merry-andrew behind is distributing his medicines. Further back is a
shift and hat, carried upon poles, designed as prizes for the best
runner or wrestler. In front is a group of strollers parading the fair,
in order to collect an audience for their next exhibition; in which is a
female drummer, at that time well known, and remarked for her beauty,
which we observe has caught the eye of two countrymen, the one old, the
other young. Behind these men is a buskined hero, beset by a Marshalsea
Court officer and his follower. To the right is a Savoyard exhibiting
her farthing show; and behind, a player at back sword riding a blind
horse round the fair triumphantly, in all the boast of self-important
heroism, affecting terror in his countenance, glorying in his scars, and
challenging the world to open combat: a folly for which the English were
remarkable. To this man a fellow is directing the attention of a country
gentleman, while he robs him of his handkerchief. Next him is an artful
villain decoying a couple of unthinking country girls to their ruin.
Further back is a man kissing a wench in the crowd; and above, a juggler
performing some dexterity of hand. Indeed it would be tedious to enter
into an enumeration of the various matter of this plate; it is
sufficient to remark that it presents us with an endless collection of
spirited and laughable characters, in which is strikingly portrayed the
character of the times.
[Illustration: SOUTHWARK FAIR.]
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. 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. Those who are
acquainted with this prince's history, need not be told that he was
naturally bold, courageous, and enterprising; that when business called
him to the field, he shook off every degree of indulgence, and applied
his mind to the management of his affairs. This may account for his
being stripped no otherwise than of his armour, having retired to his
tent in order to repose himself upon his bed, and lessen the fatigues of
the preceding day. See him then hastily rising, at dead of night, in the
utmost horror from his own thoughts, being terrified in his sleep by the
dreadful phantoms of an affrighted imagination, seizing on his sword, by
way of defence against the foe his disordered fancy presents to him. So
great is his agitation, that every nerve and muscle is in action, and
even the ring is forced from his finger. When the heart is affected, how
great is its influence on the human frame!--it communicates its
sensibility to the extreme parts of the body, from the centre to the
circumference; as distant water is put in motion by circles, spreading
from the place of its disturbance. The paper on the floor containing
these words,
Jockey of Norfolk, be not so bold,
For Dicken thy master is bought and is sold,
brought him by the Duke of Norfolk, saying he found it in his tent, and
lying here unattended to, as a mark of contempt, plainly informs us that
however a man may attempt to steel himself against the arrows of
conscience, still they will find a way to his breast, and shake the
sinner even in his greatest security. And indeed we cannot wonder, when
we reflect on the many murders he was guilty of, deserving the severest
punishment; for Providence has wisely ordained that sin should be its
own tormentor, otherwise, in many cases, the offender would, in this
life, escape unpunished, and the design of heaven be frustrated. But
Richard, though he reached a throne, and by that means was exempt from
the sufferings of the subject, yet could not divest himself of his
nature, but was forced to give way to the workings of the heart, and
bear the tortures of a distracted mind. The expression in his face is a
master-piece of execution, and was a great compliment paid by Mr.
Hogarth to his friend Garrick; yet not unmerited, as all that have seen
him in the part must acknowledge the greatness of the actor. 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, striking, and
original, and the figures well drawn. The whole moral tenour of the
piece informs us that conscience is armed with a thousand stings, from
which royalty itself is not secure; that of all tormentors, reflection
is the worst; that crowns and sceptres are baubles, compared with
self-approbation; and that nought is productive of solid happiness, but
inward peace and serenity of mind.
[Illustration: GARRICK.
In the Character of Richard the Third.]
THE INVASION; OR, FRANCE AND ENGLAND.
In the two following designs, Mr. Hogarth has displayed that partiality
for his own country and contempt for France, which formed a strong trait
in his character. He neither forgot nor forgave the insults he suffered
at Calais, though he did not recollect that this treatment originated in
his own ill humour, which threw a sombre shade over every object that
presented itself. Having early imbibed the vulgar prejudice that one
Englishman was a match for four Frenchmen, he thought it would be doing
his country a service to prove the position. How far it is either useful
or politic to depreciate the power, or degrade the character of that
people with whom we are to contend, is a question which does not come
within the plan of this work. In some cases it may create confidence,
but in others lead to the indulgence of that negligent security by which
armies have been slaughtered, provinces depopulated, and kingdoms
changed their rulers.
PLATE I.
FRANCE.
With lantern jaws and croaking gut,
See how the half-star'd Frenchmen strut,
And call us English dogs:
But soon we'll teach these bragging foes
That beef and beer give heavier blows
Than soup and roasted frogs.
The priests, inflam'd with righteous hopes,
Prepare their axes, wheels, and ropes,
To bend the stiff-neck'd sinner;
But should they sink in coming over,
Old Nick may fish 'twixt France and Dover,
And catch a glorious dinner.
The scenes of all Mr. Hogarth's prints, except The Gate of Calais, and
that now under consideration, are laid in England. In this, having
quitted his own country, he seems to think himself out of the reach of
the critics, and, in delineating a Frenchman, at liberty to depart from
nature, and sport in the fairy regions of caricature. Were these Gallic
soldiers naked, each of them would appear like a forked radish, with a
head fantastically carved upon it with a knife: so forlorn! that to any
thick sight he would be invisible. To see this miserable woe-begone
refuse of the army, who look like a group detached from the main body
and put on the sick list, embarking to conquer a neighbouring kingdom,
is ridiculous enough, and at the time of publication must have had great
effect. The artist seemed sensible that it was necessary to account for
the unsubstantial appearance of these shadows of men, and has hinted at
their want of solid food, in the bare bones of beef hung up in the
window, the inscription on the alehouse sign, "_Soup maigre au Sabot
Royal_," and the spider-like officer roasting four frogs which he has
impaled upon his sword. Such light and airy diet is whimsically opposed
by the motto on the standard, which two of the most valorous of this
ghastly troop are hailing with grim delight and loud exultation. It is,
indeed, an attractive motto, and well calculated to inspire this
famishing company with courage:--"_Vengeance, avec la bonne Biere, et
bon boeuf d'Angleterre._" However meagre the military, the church
militant is in no danger of starving. The portly friar is neither
emaciated by fasting nor weakened by penance. Anticipating the glory of
extirpating heresy, he is feeling the sharp edge of an axe, to be
employed in the decollation of the enemies to the true faith. A sledge
is laden with whips, wheels, ropes, chains, gibbets, and other
inquisitorial engines of torture, which are admirably calculated for the
propagation of a religion that was established in meekness and mercy,
and inculcates universal charity and forbearance. On the same sledge is
an image of St. Anthony, accompanied by his pig, and the plan of a
monastery to be built at Black Friars.
In the back-ground are a troop of soldiers so averse to this English
expedition, that their serjeant is obliged to goad them forward with his
halberd. To intimate that agriculture suffers by the invasion having
engaged the masculine inhabitants, two women, ploughing a sterile
promontory in the distance, complete this catalogue of wretchedness,
misery, and famine.
[Illustration: FRANCE.]
THE INVASION.
PLATE II.
ENGLAND.
See John the Soldier, Jack the Tar,
With sword and pistol arm'd for war,
Should Mounseer dare come here;
The hungry slaves have smelt our food,
They long to taste our flesh and blood,
Old England's beef and beer.
Britons to arms! and let 'em come,
Be you but Britons still, strike home,
And, lion-like, attack 'em,
No power can stand the deadly stroke
That's given from hands and hearts of oak,
With Liberty to back 'em.
From the unpropitious regions of France our scene changes to the fertile
fields of England.
England! bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rocky shores beat back the envious siege
Of wat'ry Neptune.
Instead of the forlorn and famished party who were represented in the
last plate, we here see a company of well-fed and high-spirited Britons,
marked with all the hardihood of ancient times, and eager to defend
their country.
In the first group a young peasant, who aspires to a niche in the temple
of Fame, preferring the service of Mars to that of Ceres, and the
dignified appellation of soldier to the plebeian name of farmer, offers
to enlist. Standing with his back against the halberd to ascertain his
height, and, finding he is rather under the mark, he endeavours to reach
it by rising on tiptoe. This artifice, to which he is impelled by
towering ambition, the serjeant seems disposed to connive at--and the
serjeant is a hero, and a great man in his way; "your hero always must
be tall, you know."