While the proud Earl of Rollo's royal race
Points to the peers his pompous parchment grace;
Builds all his honours on a noble name,
And on his father's deeds depends for fame;
The wary citizen, with heedful eye,
Inspects what's settled on posterity;
Pours out the pelf by rigid avarice pil'd,
To gain an empty title for his child.
In vain the pomp, in vain the gold,
Love cannot thus be bought and sold;
Such sordid motives he disdains,
Nor can be bound in Mammon's chains.
With cold contempt, disgust, and deadly hate,
The new-made wife regards her tawdry mate;
While he, Narcissus-like, with eager gaze,
Eyes those fine features which his glass displays,
In his own person centres all his pride,
And as his bride loves him, he loves his bride.
Like Satan, whispering in the ear of Eve
(By nature form'd to ruin and deceive),
A black-rob'd, smooth-tongued son of Belial see,
That would betray his Saviour for a fee;
With base, insidious smile, and tender air,
Bend o'er the inexperienc'd, thoughtless fair,
Assaying by his devilish art to reach
The organs of her fancy, and to teach
Pernicious, wicked tenets, that would taint
The pure chaste virgin or the hallowed saint;
Tenets of baneful, deadly, sinful dye,
That lead to shame, remorse, and infamy.--E.
It has been observed that woman, among savages, is a beast of burden;
in the East, a piece of furniture; and in Europe, a spoiled child.
Under the last denomination we may safely class the heroine of this
history. She has all the pouting humours of a boarding-school girl.
This alliance originated in her father wishing to aggrandize his
family, and the sire of the Viscount wishing to clear his estate.
These purposes answered, the two patriarchs troubled themselves
no further. A similarity of disposition, or union of hearts, the
nobleman considered as too vulgar an idea for a man of rank; and in
the citizen's ledger of happiness there were no such items. Their
dispositions are strongly marked by the different objects which
engage their attention.
The portly nobleman, with the conscious dignity of high birth,
displays his genealogical tree, the root of which is "William Duke
of Normandy, and conqueror of England." The valour of his great
progenitor, and the various merits of the collateral branches which
dignify his pedigree, he considers as united in his own person,
and therefore looks upon an alliance with his son as the acme of
honour, the apex of exaltation. While he is thus glorying in the
dust of which his ancestors were once compounded, the prudent
citizen, who in return for it has parted with dust of a much more
weighty and useful description, paying no regard to this heraldic
blazonry, devotes all his attention to the marriage settlement. The
haughty and supercilious Peer is absorbed in the contemplation of
his illustrious ancestry, while the worshipful Alderman, regardless
of the past, and considering the present as merely preparatory for
the future, calculates what provision there will be for a young
family. Engrossed by their favourite reflections, neither of these
sagacious personages regards the want of attachment in those who are
to be united as worthy a moment's consideration. To do the Viscount
justice, he seems equally indifferent; for though evidently in
love--it is with himself. Gazing in the mirror with delight,[1] and
in an affected style displaying his gold snuff-box and glittering
ring, he is quite a husband _à la mode_. The lady, very well disposed
to retaliate, plays with her wedding-ring, and repays this chilling
coldness with sullen contempt; her heart is not worth the Viscount's
attention, and she determines to bestow it on the first suitor. An
insidious lawyer, like an evil spirit ever ready to move or second
a temptation, appears at her right hand. That he is an eloquent
pleader, is intimated by his name, Counsellor Silvertongue: that he
can make the worse appear the better cause, is only saying in other
words that _he is great in the profession_. To predict that with
such an advocate her virtue is in danger, would not be sufficiently
expressive. His captivating tones and insinuating manners would have
ensnared Lucretia.
Two dogs in a corner, coupled against their inclinations, are good
emblems of the ceremony which is to pass.[2]
The ceiling of this magnificent apartment is decorated with the
story of Pharaoh and his host drowned in the Red Sea. The ocean
on a ceiling proves a projector's taste,[3] and attention to the
costume; the sublimity of a painter is exemplified in the hero
delineated with one of the attributes of Jove. This fluttering figure
is probably intended for one of the Peer's high-born ancestors, and
is invested with the Golden Fleece and some other foreign orders.
To give him still greater dignity, he is in the character of
Jupiter; while one hand holds up an ample robe, the other grasps a
thunderbolt. A comet is taking its rapid course over his head; and in
one corner of the picture two of the family of Boreas are judiciously
blowing contrary ways. To some such supernatural cause we must
attribute the drapery and long peruke flying in opposite directions.
Immediately before him a cannon is represented in the moment of
explosion: to leave the spectator no doubt of its being intended for
serious business, and not as a mere _feu-de-joie_, the ball is seen
in its progress. All this is ridiculous enough, but not an iota more
absurd than many of the French portraits which Hogarth evidently
intended to burlesque by this parody.[4] Their painters have mistaken
extravagance for spirit, and violence for freedom. Fine as are many
of their engravings, they frequently give us lines that resemble
the flourishes of a writing-master more than the free strokes of an
artist.
In the painting which represents Goliah slain by David, the gigantic
Philistine is stretched on the earth, and, in truth, appears to
cover many a rood. Beneath is the _merciful_ Judith: one hand grasps
the sword with which she decollated Holofernes, and the other rests
upon his bleeding head. The adjoining picture exhibits a view of St.
Sebastian pierced with arrows, and that on the other side of the room
displays Prometheus and the vulture; beneath is a representation of
Cain slaying Abel. St. Lawrence upon the gridiron is placed under a
painting of Herod's cruelty. As the ornament of a chandelier, over
the sofa on which the hymeneal pair are seated, is a relievo of
Medusa's head; both this and other _agreeable_ subjects may possibly
have some covert allusions, but to me they are not obvious.
Hogarth's leading object in them all seems to be a ridicule of
those who gave these barbarous delineations a preference to his own
paintings.
The self-important consequence of the noble inhabitant of this
mansion is displayed in every part of his furniture. The coronet
glitters not only upon the canopy, but the crutches; is mounted upon
the frame of the mirror, and marked on the side of the dog.
Mr. Nichols observes, that "among such little circumstances as might
escape the notice of a careless spectator, is the thief in the
candle, emblematical of the mortgage on his lordship's estate."--As
the mortgage is now paying, one thinks the thief might have been
spared. The artist, however, might mean to intimate that his
lordship's estate was run to waste by the negligence and carelessness
of the proprietor. The same commentator properly remarks that the
unfinished edifice seems at a stand for want of money, no workman
appearing on the scaffolds, or near them; and adds, that a number of
figures which are before the building were designed for "the lazy
vermin of his lordship's hall, who, having nothing else to do, are
sitting on the blocks of stone, or staring at the building."
The characters in this print are admirably marked. Nothing can be
better contrasted than the cautious, calculating countenance of the
Alderman, and the haughty overbearing air of the Peer. To this may
be added the stare of the Serjeant, astonished at so magnificent
an edifice, and the cunning craft of the Usurer delivering up the
mortgage.
The plate was engraved by G. Scotin, and published April 1, 1745.