"Where Titles deign with Cits to have and hold,
And change rich blood for more substantial gold;
And honour'd trade from interest turns aside,
To hazard happiness for titled pride."--GARRICK.
_The First Picture._
"There is always a something wanting to make men happy: the great
think themselves not sufficiently rich, and the rich believe
themselves not enough distinguished. This is the case of the Alderman
of London, and the motive which makes him covet for his daughter the
alliance of a great lord; who, on his part, does not consent thereto
but on condition of enriching his son;--and this is what the painter
calls marriage _à la mode_.
"These sort of marriages are truly but too common in England; and
it is, moreover, not unfrequent to see them unhappy as they are
ill chosen. The two figures of the Alderman and the Earl are in
every respect so well characterized that they explain themselves.
The Alderman, with an air of business, counts his money like a man
used to this employment; and the Earl, full of his titles and the
greatness of his birth, which he lets you see goes as high as William
the Conqueror, is in an attitude which shows him full of pride; you
think you hear him say _me_, _my_ arms, _my_ titles, _my_ family,
_my_ ancestors: everything about him carries marks of distinction;
his very crutches, the humbling consequence of his infirmities, are
decked with an earl's coronet; these infirmities are introduced
here as the usual consequence of that irregularity of living but
too frequent among the great. The two persons who are betrothed, on
their parts are by no means attentive to one another: the one looks
at himself in the glass, is taking snuff, and thinking of nothing;
the other is playing negligently with a ring, and seems to hear with
indifference the conversation of a kind of a lawyer who attends the
execution of the marriage articles. Another lawyer is exclaiming with
admiration on the beauty of a building seen at a distance, and upon
which the Earl has spent his whole fortune, and has not sufficient to
finish the same. A number of idle footmen, who are about the court of
this building, finish the representation of the ruinous pageantry in
which the Earl is engaged."
_The Second Picture._
"That indifference between the parties which preceded marriage _à
la mode_ has not been wanting to follow it. We unite ourselves by
contract, and we live separately by inclination. Tired and fatigued
one of another, such husbands and wives have nothing in common but a
house, tiresome to the husband, and into which he enters as late as
he can; and which would not be less tiresome to the lady, was it not
sometimes the theatre of other pleasures, either in entertainments
or routs. There is here represented a room where there has just been
one of these routs, and the company just separated, as you see by the
wax candles not yet extinguished. The clock shows you it is noon; and
this anticipation of the night upon the day is not the slightest of
those strokes which are intended to show the disorder which reigns in
the house. Madam, who has just had her tea, is in an attitude which
explains itself perhaps too much. Be that as it will, the painter's
intention is to represent this lady neglected by her husband, under
dispositions which make a perfect contrast with the present situation
of this husband, who is just come home, and who appears in a state
of the most perfect indifference; fatigued, exhausted, and glutted
with pleasure. This figure of the husband, by the novelty of its
turn, the delicacy and truth of its expression, is most happily
executed. A steward of an old stamp, one of those, if such there be,
who are contented with their salary, seizes this moment, not being
able to find another, to settle some accounts. The disorder which he
perceives gives him a motion which expresses his chagrin, and his
fear for the speedy ruin of his master."
_The Third Picture._
"The bad conduct of the hero of the piece must be shown here; the
painter for this purpose introduces him into the apartment of a
quack, where he would not have been but for his debauchery. He makes
him meet at the same time, at this quack's, one of those women
who, being ruined themselves long since, make afterwards the ruin
of others their occupation. A quarrel is supposed to have arisen
between this woman and our hero, and the subject thereof appears
to be the bad condition, in point of health, of a young girl, from
a commerce with whom he had received an injury. This poor girl
makes here a contrast, on account of her age, her fearfulness, her
softness, with the character of the other woman, who appears a
composition of rage, madness, and of all other crimes which usually
accompany these abandoned women towards those of their own sex. The
doctor and his apartment are objects thrown in by way of episode.
Although heretofore only a barber, he is now, if you judge by the
appearance he makes, not only a surgeon, but a naturalist, a chemist,
a mechanic, a physician, and an apothecary; and to heighten the
ridicule, you see he is a Frenchman. The painter, to finish this
character according to his own idea, makes him the inventor of
machines extremely complicated for the most simple operations; as,
one to reduce a dislocated limb, and another to draw the cork out of
a bottle."
_The Fourth Picture._
"This piece is amusing by the variety of characters therein
represented. Let us begin with the principal; and this is Madam at
her toilette: a French _valet de chambre_ is putting the finishing
stroke to her dress. The painter supposes her returned from one
of those auctions of old goods, pictures, and an hundred other
things which are so common at London, and where numbers of people
of condition are duped. It is there that, for emulation, and only
not to give place to another in point of expense, a woman buys
at a great price an ugly pagod, without taste, without worth, and
which she has no sort of occasion for. It is there also that an
opportunity is found of conversing, without scandal, with people
whom you cannot see anywhere else. The things which you see on the
floor are the valuable acquisitions our heroine has just made at
one of those auctions. It is extremely fashionable at London, to
have at your house one of those melodious animals which are brought
from Italy at great expense; there appears one here, whose figure
sufficiently distinguishes him to those who have once seen one of
those unhappy victims of the rage of Italians for music. The woman
there is charmed, almost to fainting, with the ravishing voice of
this singer; but the rest of the company do not seem so sensible of
it. The country gentleman, fatigued at a stag or a fox chase, is
fallen asleep. You see there, with his hair in papers, one of those
personages who pass their whole life in endeavouring to please, but
without succeeding; and there, with a fan in his hand, you see one of
those heretics in love, a disciple of Anacreon. You see likewise, on
the couch, the lawyer who is introduced in the first picture, talking
to the lady. He appears to have taken advantage of the indifference
of the husband, and that his affairs are pretty far advanced since
the first scene. He is proposing the masquerade to his mistress, who
does not fail to accept of it. The next piece proceeds to present to
you the frightful consequences of this step."
_The Fifth Picture._
"The houses of bagnio-keepers are yet at Paris what they were
heretofore at London: but now the bath is but the accessory, the
appendix of the bagnio-keepers of this country, and excepting two
or three of their houses, the others have for the principal view of
their establishment the reception of any couple, well or ill sorted,
who are desirous of a chamber, or a bed, for an hour or a night.
The price is fixed in each house: there are some where you pay five
shillings, in others half a guinea: you enter both into one and the
other at any time with a great deal of safety, and are received there
with all the complaisance imaginable. Nothing is better furnished,
more clean, and better conducted than these houses of debauchery. The
masqueraders often make assignations at these places; and it is for
such an assignation that our heroine has accepted of the ticket which
her lover offers her in the former piece. A husband, whose wife goes
to the masquerade without him, is not without his inquietudes; it is
natural that ours here has secretly followed his wife thither, and
from thence to the bagnio, where he finds her in bed with the lawyer.
They fight;--the husband is mortally wounded: his wife, upon her
knees, is making useless protestations of her remorse. The watchmen
enter; and the lawyer, in his shirt, is getting out of the window."
_The Sixth Picture._
"We are now at the house of the Alderman. London Bridge, which is
seen through the window, shows the quarter where the people of
business live. The furniture of this house does not contribute to
its ornament;--everything shows niggardliness; and the dinner, which
is on the table, the highest frugality. You see the tobacco-pipes
set by in the corner: this, too, is a mark of great economy. Some
pictures you see, upon very low subjects, to give you to understand
by this choice that persons who, like the Alderman, pass their whole
life in thinking of nothing but enriching themselves, generally want
taste and elegance. Besides, everything here is contrasted with
what you saw at the Earl's: the pride of one, and the sordidness
of the other, are always equally ridiculous by the odd subjects of
the pictures which are there seen; but generally in the choice of
pictures, neither the analogy, taste, or agreement one with another
are consulted. The broker only is advised with, who on his part
consults only his own interest, of which he is much more capable of
being a judge than he is of painting; like a seller of old books,
who knows how to say, Here is an Elzevir Horace, or one of the
Louvre edition,--and who knows all this without being acquainted with
poetry, or capable of distinguishing an epigram from an epic poem.
There is only one difference between a bookseller and a broker: the
first has certain marks by which he knows the edition; and the other
is obliged to have recourse to inspiration, which is the only way
whereby he is able to judge infallibly, as he does, whether a picture
is an original or no. But to return to our subject. The daughter of
the Alderman, now a widow, is returned to her father. Her lover has
been taken and hanged for the murder of her husband: this she has
learned from the dying speech which is at her foot upon the floor. A
conscience disturbed and tormented with remorse is very soon driven
to despair. This woman, who by the consequence of her infidelity has
destroyed her husband, her lover, her reputation, and her quiet,
has nothing to lose but her life. This she does by taking laudanum.
She dies. An old servant in tears makes her kiss her child, the
melancholy production of an unfortunate marriage. The Alderman, more
sensible of the least acquisition than of the most tragical events,
takes, without emotion, a ring from the finger of his expiring
daughter. The apothecary is severely reprimanding the ridiculous
footman of the house who had procured the poison, the effects of
which finish the catastrophe."
Thus ends this explanation; and whether it was copied from what
Hogarth wrote, or, as is more probable, made up from verbal remarks
which he had made at different times, it does not in any material
points differ from the following description of the plates, which
was published some years before the editor saw or heard of the above
paper.