The writer of this catalogue is now come to his last chapter, and has
before him the last plate that Hogarth engraved, which is properly
denominated the _Finis_ to that great painter's works.
Of the various opinions which the numerous readers of these his
volumes will form at this his conclusion, he can have no certain
judgment; but fears that some of them may be thus anticipated.
The votary of comedy, who considers Hogarth as a mere burlesque
painter, with whom he only wishes to laugh, will deem this book
too grave; while the saturnine spirit, that looks at him as a
mere sermonic moralist, will say it is not grave enough. The man
who supposes that every character was individual, and expects the
scandalous chronicle of those who were satirized by the artist, will
probably complain that there is too little anecdote; while he that
considers this as a frivolous, gossiping, and anecdotish age, will
say there is too much.
Some will observe that these volumes are too long, and in the
style of a tired mariner, exult that they see land. In this their
exultation the writer most sincerely participates, but at the same
time acknowledges (so predominant is vanity) that he trusts there
are who would not regret if the work were still longer, who will
correct what they find erroneous without triumphing in their superior
sagacity, and candidly forgive the writer's weakness without too much
glorying in their own strength.
From the pedantic and quizzical connoisseur I expect no mercy, but
suppose that the book and the writer will be arraigned and condemned
in manner and form following:--
"I took up these volumes with the expectation of seeing all the
characters that Hogarth introduced determined, and all his variations
recorded. With respect to the characters, some are mistaken, and
others are omitted; and as to the variations, few are noticed.[228]
Concerning a multitude of invaluable prints, which have singly
produced three times as much as the volume of his prints in their
present state sells for, there is not even a catalogue; there are
many pages of extraneous matter, which I had not patience to read;
every iota of Hogarth I understood without the assistance of this
book."
With all possible humility the author declareth, that for your use or
benefit he did not compile it.
"Laugh where you may, be candid where you can."
That you may know some of the characters of which the writer is
ignorant, he willingly acknowledges; that you may guess at many,
where he sees no ground for conjecture, he cheerfully admits; and
that both you and himself are very frequently mistaken, he firmly
believes.
The prints are described as they are copied from the present state
of the plates, and the material alterations incidentally noticed.
However great the merit of the tankards and teapots, the waiters and
coats of arms, to reduce them did not come into the present plan; to
commemorate them was unnecessary.[229] The author of these volumes,
from the day he has written man, inspected the works of Hogarth with
delight, but was not fully conscious of their superlative merit
until the compilation of these remarks, in the progress of which
his duty to the public obliged him to examine their design, and
endeavour to illustrate their tendency. In this he has engaged with
the consciousness that there would be error,--which to such a work is
necessarily attached.
To those readers who are not too fastidious to peruse it with this
allowance, or who have not hitherto looked at Hogarth with the
attention he merits, it is addressed. If it impels them to more
minute inspection of his works, the purpose is answered.
Yes, great and unrivalled genius! every contemplation of thy works
must be succeeded by admiration!