"O cara, cara! silence all that train;
Joy to great chaos! let division reign."
[Illustration: THE ORCHESTRA.]
The oratorio of _Judith_ was written by Esquire William Huggins,[176]
honoured by the music of William de Fesch, aided by new painted
scenery and _magnifique_ decoration, and in the year 1733 brought
upon the stage. As De Fesch[177] was a German and a genius, we may
fairly presume it was well set; and there was at that time, as at
this, a sort of musical mania, that paid much greater attention
to sounds than to sense. Notwithstanding all these points in her
favour, when the Jewish heroine had made her theatrical _début_,
and so effectually smote Holofernes,
"As to sever
His head from his great trunk for ever, and for ever,"
the audience compelled her to make her exit. To set aside this
partial and unjust decree, Mr. Huggins appealed to the public,
and printed[178] his oratorio. Though it was adorned with a
frontispiece designed by Hogarth and engraved by Vandergucht, the
world could not be compelled to read, and the unhappy writer had
no other resource than the consolatory reflection, that his work
was superlatively excellent, but unluckily printed in a tasteless
age:[179] a comfortable and solacing self-consciousness, which hath,
I verily believe, prevented many a great genius from becoming his own
executioner.
To paint a sound is impossible; but as far as art can go towards it,
Mr. Hogarth has gone in this print. The tenor, treble, and bass of
these ear-piercing choristers are so decisively discriminated, that
we all but hear them.
The principal figure, whose head, hands, and feet are in equal
agitation, has very properly tied on his spectacles; it would have
been prudent to have tied on his periwig also, for by the energy of
his action he has shaken it from his head, and, absorbed in an eager
attention to true time, is totally unconscious of his loss.
A _gentleman_--pardon me, I meant _a singer_--in a bag-wig,
immediately beneath his uplifted hand, I suspect to be of foreign
growth. _It_ has the engaging air of _an importation from Italy_.
The little figure in the sinister corner is, it seems, intended for a
Mr. Tothall, a woollen-draper, who lived in Tavistock Court, and was
Hogarth's intimate friend.
The name of the performer on his right hand,
"Whose growling bass
Would drown the clarion of the braying ass,"
I cannot learn; nor do I think that this group were meant for
particular portraits, but a general representation of the violent
distortions into which these crotchet-mongers draw their features on
such solemn occasions.
Even the head of the bass viol has air and character: by the band
under the chin, it gives some idea of a professor,[180] or what is I
think called a Mus. D.
The words now singing, "The world shall bow to the Assyrian throne,"
are extracted from Mr. Huggins' oratorio; the etching is in a most
masterly style, and was originally given as a subscription-ticket to
"The Modern Midnight Conversation."
I have seen a small political print on Sir Robert Walpole's
administration, entitled, _Excise, a new Ballad Opera_, of which this
was unquestionably the basis. Beneath it is the following learned and
poetical motto:
"Experto crede Roberto."
"Mind how each hireling songster tunes his throat,
And the vile knight beats time to every note:
So Nero sung while Rome was all in flames,
But time shall brand with infamy their names."