"The time was now approaching when superstition, and folly, and vice,
were to be relieved from the satiric pencil which had awed them so
long--the health of Hogarth began to decline. He was aware of this, and
purchased a small house at Chiswick, to which he retired during the
summer, amusing himself with making slight sketches and retouching his
plates. This house stood till lately on a very pretty spot; but the
demon of building came into the neighbourhood, choked up the garden, and
destroyed the secluded beauty of Hogarth's cottage. The garden, well
stored with walnut, mulberry, and apple trees, contained a small study,
with a head-stone, placed over a favourite bullfinch, on which the
artist had etched the bird's head and written an epitaph. The cottage
contained many snug rooms, and was but yesterday the residence of a man
of learning and genius, Mr. Cary, the translator of Dante. The change of
scene, the free fresh air, and exercise on horseback, had for awhile a
favourable influence on Hogarth's health; but he complained that he was
no longer able to think with the readiness, and work with the elasticity
of spirit, of his earlier years. The friends of this artist observed,
and lamented, this falling away; his enemies hastened to congratulate
Churchill and Wilkes on the success of their malevolence; and these men
were capable of rejoicing in the belief that the work of nature was
their own."
We are glad to see Mr. Cunningham throwing light on false conclusions
drawn from the eccentricities of genius, as in this little anecdote:--
"With Dr. Hoadley, who corrected the manuscript of the Analysis of
Beauty for the press, Hogarth was on such friendly terms that he was
admitted into one of the private theatrical exhibitions which the doctor
loved, and was appointed to perform along with Garrick and his
entertainer, a parody on that scene in Julius Caesar where the ghost
appears to Brutus. Hogarth personated the spectre, but so
unretentive--(we are told)--was his memory that though the speech
consisted only of two lines he was unable to get them by heart, and his
facetious associates wrote them on an illuminated lantern that he might
read them when he came upon the stage. Such is the way in which
anecdotes are manufactured, and conclusions of absence or imbecility
drawn. The speech of the ghost written on the paper lantern formed part
of the humour of the burlesque. Men, dull in comprehending the
eccentricities of genius, set down what passes their own understanding
to the account of the other's stupidity."
Here our notice of the Life of Hogarth would end, did we not feel
inclined to venture a word or two respecting the omission of Hogarth's
_Tailpiece_, engraved in Ireland's "Life," and there described as his
last work. With the superstitious tale attached to it almost every one
is familiar; yet some notice ought surely to have been taken of the
story, even had it only been to expose its falsehood and absurdity.
We find that we have proceeded but half through the volume, so that
Wilson, Reynolds, and Gainsborough must remain for another number.
* * * * *