"The Times are out of joint."
[Illustration: THE TIMES. PLATE II.]
A painter engaging in the political disputes of his day, is in a
situation similar to a gentleman beginning to rebuild a family
mansion. The pencil of one, dipped in these troubled streams, or the
fingers of the other but touch-brick and mortar,--it is not in the
tables of De Moivre to calculate the conclusion of their labours.
Each of them sets out upon a certain plan, determines that he will go
so far, and no further: but the gentleman is induced to make a first
addition to his original plan, because it will be more convenient; a
second, because it will be _magnifique_; and a third and fourth _must
be_, because without them the building will not be uniform.
The artist engraves a political print, which raises an host of
enemies, who buzz about him like a nest of disturbed hornets. To
them, wording not being the painter's province, he replies by a
second print, which produces a second volume of abuse; "another and
another still succeeds," and he must either sink under this load of
obloquy, or devote the residue of his days to the defence of his
character. Such at least was the political progress of Hogarth.
By his first print of "The Times" he roused two very formidable
adversaries, and they treated him with as much ceremony as two
deputies from the Bow Street magistrates would an incendiary or
an assassin. They did not consider him as a man whose conduct it
was needful to investigate, or whose opinions it was necessary to
confute, but as a criminal, whose aggravated crimes had outraged
every law of society, and whom they would therefore drag to the place
of execution. To defend himself from these furious assailants,
he had no shield but a copperplate, no weapons but a pencil and a
burin. The use he made of them may be seen in the two last prints;
but though this was engraved during the time of the contest, it was
not published while he lived. Whether a sudden change in politics, a
supposed ambiguity in part of his design, or the advice of judicious
or timid friends, induced him to suppress his work, cannot now be
ascertained; but whatever were the reasons, his widow's respect for
his memory induced her to adopt the same conduct. She retained a
reverence for even the dust of her husband, and dreaded its being
raked from the sepulchre where he had been quietly inurned, mixed
with the poisonous aconite of party, and by sacrilegious hands
cast into the agitated cauldron of politics. If we add to this the
specimen of political candour which she had experienced in her own
person, can we wonder that she cautiously avoided whatever could be
tortured into a provocation to the renewal of hostilities? From these
considerations she never suffered more than one impression to be
taken, and that was struck off at the earnest request of Lord Exeter.
In withholding this plate from the public she acted prudently; in
attempting to describe it, I may be thought to act otherwise. To
enter into a discrimination of characters who now live, "or step upon
ashes which are not yet cold," is liable to invidious construction.
Let it be remembered, that though I have endeavoured to point out
the characters delineated by Hogarth, it does not follow that my
explanation will always be right.
Though several of the figures are marked in a style so obtrusive that
they cannot be mistaken, there are others where I can only guess at
the originals. From those who were engaged in the politics of that
day I have sought information, but their communications have been
neither important nor consistent with each other. They generally
ended in an acknowledgment, that "in thirty years they had forgotten
much which they once knew, and which, if now recollected, would
materially elucidate." To this was added what I am compelled to
admit, that parts of the print are obscure. I have before observed
that neither politics nor allegory were Hogarth's _forte_, and this
delineation was made under the impression of resentment.
The exact time of its being engraved I cannot positively ascertain,
but conjecture it must have been some time in the year 1762. A small
part of the sky was left unfinished, and in that state still remains,
as the present proprietors would not suffer any other engraver to
draw a line on the copperplate of Hogarth.
On a pedestal in the centre of the print is a statue of the present
King in his coronation robes, inscribed "A Ramsay delt;" his right
hand is placed on his side, and the left leans upon a plummet,
which seems to have been Mr. Ramsay's guide in the delineation;
for the drapery is in squares, decided as the ground glass stopper
of a decanter, and the whole figure is composed of straight lines.
Of these upright figures Hogarth had given his opinion in the
_Analysis_;[146] and Mr. Ramsay being portrait-painter to his
Majesty, a post Hogarth thought himself better qualified to fill, he
took this opportunity of throwing his manner into ridicule.[147] The
head of a lion in _bas relief_ with a leaden pipe in his mouth,[148]
being on the front of the pedestal, intimates its connection with a
reservoir; and the royal statue on the top denotes this to be the
fountain of honour. The able-bodied figure turning a fire-plug is
evidently intended for Lord Bute; his employment seems to intimate
that he has the power of accelerating or retarding the stream of
royal bounty, and wheresoever he willeth it shall flow, there it
floweth. A baronial escutcheon, keys, stars, coronets, croziers,
mitres, maces, lie close to the pedestal, around which are placed a
number of garden pots with shrubs. Two rose trees most plentifully
sprinkled by streams from the fountain of favour have been originally
inscribed "James III.;" but James being now blotted out, George is
put above it, and by a little hyphen beneath the lowest figure,
marked as belonging to the lowest line. Three orange trees have the
initials "G. R.," and beneath the letters is inscribed "Republican."
These also receive drops of favour; but a large laurel planted in
a capacious vase, raised upon the base of a pillar, and inscribed
"Culloden," is watered by the dew of heaven,--by a copious shower
poured from the urn of Aquarius. Besides these six flourishing
plants, there are a number of yew and box trees, clipped into true
taste by a Dutch gardener. Some of them retain their old situations,
but an active labourer is busily clearing the grounds of all these
ancient formalities. Many of them he has already wheeled out of their
places, and thrown into the ditch that surrounds the platform, into
which situation he is now tumbling two venerable box trees of a most
orderly and regular cut: each of them having the letters G. R., may
apply to the favourites either of George the First or Second. This
I suppose is meant to express, by an allegorical figure, the great
number of old place-men who resigned on the accession of his present
Majesty.
The late Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland, being at that time a
leading character in the House of Commons, and deemed the partisan of
Lord Bute, is here represented as removing these antiquated plants
from the vivifying hothouse of royalty to the cold and dank ditch of
despair. Hogarth, not thinking a sable countenance and ebon eyebrows
would sufficiently indicate the person meant, has given the outline
of a fox's head to his cap. In his reforming business he is somewhat
impeded by a garden roller, on which is written "£1,000,000,000,"
meaning possibly the national debt. On the platform lies a broom,
shovel, and rake, necessary implements in clearing gardens; and in
the surrounding _fosse_ such a collection of fantastic _nevergreens_,
as decked the pleasure-grounds of our ancient sovereigns, "trimm'd
with nice art," and cut into the shapes of pyramids, fortifications,
globes, and birds. On one of them, clipped into the form of a human
head, is a mask, well expressing the taste of our ancestors.
It is observable that Lord Bute and Mr. Henry Fox are the only
persons on the platform: one of these gentlemen was, I believe,
supposed to have the highest confidence of his sovereign; and the
other, a most powerful influence over the people's representatives.
A group in the dexter corner is principally made up of members of
the Upper House. A senatorial figure in the chair under the king's
arms is intended for Sir John Cust, then Speaker. That beneath him,
wiping his forehead, evidently from perturbation of mind, for William
Duke of Cumberland. Below him is Lord Mansfield, and still lower Lord
Temple, presenting his snuff-box to his Grace of Newcastle, who had
a short time before joined the opposition. We also recognise Earl
Winchelsea, and George Doddington, afterwards Lord Melcombe.
Who are intended to be hinted at by a number of persons asleep, I
do not know: it, however, proves that there were at that period men
who were not to be kept awake by the most important interests of
their country. Had this print borne relation to the orators of 1790
instead of the speakers of 1762, there would have been no cause for
astonishment. Considering the hour at which our present race of
senators meet to do business, and that one oration frequently lasts
from the twilight of evening to the crowing of the cock, could it
excite wonder if half the assembly were under the dominion of Somnus
before what one of our fashionable prints so familiarly calls the
peroration?
On the other side of a rail, intended, I believe, to divide the
Commons from the Lords, are a number of figures firing at the
emblem of Peace, which is fluttering in the air near the signs of
the zodiac. Mr. Pitt we are enabled to identify, not only by his
features, but by his gouty legs. His gun has much the longest barrel,
and while he fires it off he prudently turns away his face, fearing
a flash in the pan may scorch his eyebrows; or perhaps acting as a
waterman, looking one way and rowing another. A figure behind him
discharges a blunderbuss; and in the sinister hand of one immediately
before him is a horse-pistol. The household artillery of all the
band (and from the smoke which is diffused over the centre of the
group it appears they are numerous) is directed to the same object.
One prudent personage, a little before Mr. Pitt, seems to be in the
act of desertion; for though yet seated on the gunpowder bench, he
has got his head under the rail, and is half on the other side. This
may be pointed at one of that class who go under the denomination
of Trimmers, or may intimate that the gentleman is in the way of
getting a place or a peerage; but what is his name, or was his future
title, I am not enough read in the red book[149] to determine. The
next figure resembles Henry Bilson Legge. A hand with an ear-trumpet
may perhaps allude to Lord Chesterfield, whose deafness was at this
period proverbial. Two figures above him are distinguished, one by
a muff, and the other by a pair of spectacles; "to whom related,
or by whom begot," baffles my conjecture: the lowest figure has a
resemblance to the first Lord Holland, but _he_ is exhibited on the
platform. A dog immediately behind Lord Bute, having his eye fixed
on the urn of Aquarius, I suppose to be barking at the shower which
pours on the laurel inscribed "Culloden." He is a Caledonian cur,
and on his collar is written the word "Mercy," allusive, perhaps, to
the cruelties said to have been exercised in Scotland in 1745, which
accounts for the natives of that country thinking the Duke had more
liberal rewards and more distinguished honours than he fairly merited.
Thus much must suffice for the dignified personages who then drove
the state machine: to regret that I cannot point out more of the
characters would be useless. I am not deeply studied in the political
history of that day; to those who are, must be delegated the task of
more particular explanation.
The two most distinguished persons in the opposite group are exalted
to the pillory. Over a figure of Fanny the Phantom, who is dressed
in a white sheet, the engraver has written "Conspiracy." In one
hand she holds a small hammer, and in the other a lighted taper,
with which she sets fire to a _North Briton_ that is fastened on the
breast of Esquire Wilkes, above whose head is written "Defamation."
The patriot is depicted with a most rueful countenance and empty
pockets. On the steps below are such a company as we generally see
assembled on these great occasions. Two Highlanders, one of whom is
grasping a purse, and with most significant grin pointing to the
_profane cheeld_ who had dared to abuse his clan, and reprinted
Howell's _Description of Scotland_:[150] by his belt and lapels he
appears to be military, and is perhaps meant for Colonel Martin.
Close to him is a Liliputian chimney-sweeper, and a fellow blowing
a cow's horn with force that gives a Boreas-like distension to his
cheeks.[151] This resounding clangour is softened by the cheering
notes of the sweet-sounding violin, while the growling bagpipe gives
a thorough bass to the whole. Still further to keep up the spirits
of the company, a woman is retailing gin from a keg inscribed with
the two initials "J. W.," and a schoolboy amusing himself, _à la
Teniers_, with Mr. Wilkes' shoes. To complete his degradation, the
Bishop's Abigail so skilfully trundles her well-soaked mop, that he
enjoys the full benefit of her mud-coloured drops.
The group behind is partly made up of British sailors and soldiers,
each of whom exhibit a most melancholy spectacle of the fortune of
war. One lion-hearted veteran, having had both legs and arms lopped
off in the service of his country, has his oak-like trunk borne to
the borders of the platform upon a porter's knot,[152] where, with
three other disabled warriors, he waits in the hope of catching a
few drops from the fountain of honour; but alas! the stream which
ascends from a fire-plug behind the gate falls on the heads of a mob
who are in the background. Some of these may possibly be cripples,
for a crutch as well as several bludgeons is flourished in the air.
At a window, over which is painted "Dr. Cant's," and "Man Midwife," a
bishop is confirming two adults by the imposition of hands. Whether
by this representation the artist intended to hint that this father
of the church confirmed them in their political errors, the reader
must determine according to his political creed; but thus far we
may venture to decide, Doctor Thomas Seeker, then Archbishop of
Canterbury, was the person intended to be delineated. At the rooms
where the Society for Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and
Commerce then met, a number of persons, by the help of a crane, are
dragging up a large silver palette, on which is written "Premium."
The man instructing the workmen is, I believe, intended for Mr. Peter
Templeman, then Secretary to the Society; as one of the figures in
the first floor is probably Lord Romney, then their President.
Behind this we discover the New Church in the Strand; and on
the opposite side a triumphal column; a structure with the word
"Hospital" inscribed on the front, and a scaffolding, with workmen
completing a very large new building. These, I apprehend, Hogarth
intended as descriptive of the great things which were to be
undertaken and carried on during the reign of a monarch who gloried
in the name of Briton. That the workmen and scaffolding bear allusion
to those extensive and ponderous premises now known by the name of
Somerset Place, there can be little doubt: the artist, with an eye
of prophetic anticipation, has placed his scaffolding nearly on the
spot where the building now stands;[153] and conscious of the time it
must take to pile up such a quantity of stone, has not represented it
built, but building.
The figure of Lord Bute is a strong likeness, and in the turn of head
very similar to Ramsay's portrait which Mr. Ryland engraved. Pointing
out the first Lord Holland by making the outline of his cap in the
form of a fox's head, is a whimsical idea. Even the sculptured lion's
shaggy front has strong markings. He is by no means pleased with the
distribution of those honours that he is made a party in bestowing,
but goes through his business with a very wry face. To the poor
maimed sailors and soldiers, Callot could not have given much more
spirit. Though upon so small a scale, they have all the hardihood
of their order; and both in them and the elevated party[154] on the
opposite side, variety and distinction of character is accurately and
nicely discriminated.