Beneath lies lean old Fillgrave, once M.D.,
Who hunger felt much oft'ner than a fee;
These were the last, last words the doctor spoke
(And, believe me, sirs, the sentence was no joke),
"The world I leave, but can't the world forgive,
For by my patients I could never live."
In this rejoin'd a friend, "You'd but your due;
Your patients, doctor, ne'er could live by you."--E.
[10] It is said to have been designed for the once celebrated
Betty Careless, and the remark is supposed to be countenanced by
the initials E. C. on her bosom. This woman, by a transmigration
as natural as is that of the chrysalis, from being one of the most
fashionable of the Cyprian corps, became keeper of a brothel; and
after repeated arrests and many imprisonments, was buried from the
poorhouse of St. Paul's, Covent Garden, April 22, 1752. In many of
the elegant Latin odes of Loveling her name is immortalized; and of
her person and appearance Fielding thus speaks in his _Amelia_:--
"I happened in my youth to sit behind two ladies in a side-box at
a play, where, in a balcony on the opposite side, was placed the
inimitable Betsy Careless, in company with a young fellow of no very
formal or indeed sober appearance. One of the ladies, I remember,
said to the other, 'Did you ever see anything look so modest and so
innocent as that girl over the way? What pity it is such a creature
should be in the way of ruin, as I am afraid she is by being alone
with that young fellow.'
"Now this lady was no bad physiognomist: for it was impossible to
conceive a greater appearance of modesty, innocence, and simplicity
than what nature had displayed in the countenance of that girl, and
yet, all appearances notwithstanding, I myself (remember, critic, it
was in my youth) had, a few mornings before, seen that very identical
picture of those engaging qualities in bed with a rake at a bagnio,
smoking tobacco, drinking punch, talking obscenity, and swearing and
cursing with all the impudence and impiety of the lowest and most
abandoned trull of a soldier."
Hogarth noticed this woman in a former print: one of the madmen in
the last plate of "The Rake's Progress" has written "Charming Betsy
Careless" on the rail of the stairs, and wears her portrait suspended
to a riband tied round his neck. Mrs. Heywood's _Betsy Thoughtless_
was in MS. entitled _Betsy Careless_; but, from the infamy at that
time annexed to the name, had a new baptism. There are those who
say that the letters upon this woman's bosom are not E. C. but F.
C., and intended to designate Fanny Cock, daughter of Mr. Cock the
auctioneer, with whom the artist had a casual disagreement. After
all these conjectures, I think it is probable that these gunpowder
initials are merely the marks of a woman of the lowest rank and most
infamous description.
[11] From the gallows, immediately over his head, we are led to
suppose the artist intended to hint that this gentleman died for
the good of his country; but from the records of some of our
mortuary historians, it appears that about the time this set of
prints were published, a number of bodies thus preserved, which had
been exsiccated by some mode of embalming at present unknown, were
discovered in a vault in Whitechapel Church.
[12] This royal mummy, being once the sole tenant of one of the
largest pyramids, might be more positively ascertained than any of
the Cleopatras. It was, however, profanely removed by a wild Arab,
who, after he had stolen it, sold it to the Consul of Alexandria,
by whom it was transmitted to England: and a right grave antiquary
quotes a passage in Sandys' _Travels_ to prove its being genuine;
where that learned and accurate voyager assures us that he saw the
sepulchre empty, "which agrees exactly," saith he, "with the theft
above mentioned." He omits to observe that Herodotus tells the same
thing of it in his time.
[13] Carestini.
[14] A short time before the publication of these prints, the
greatest part of our nobility acted as if they had been bitten
by a tarantula. The sums lavished upon exotic warblers would
have supported an army; the applause bestowed upon some of them
would have turned the brain of a saint. It was little short of
adoration. Persons of inferior rank caught this jingling contagion,
and all orders of the people were infected with a musical mania,
totally foreign to our national taste, and highly dishonourable
to our national character. In one of Hogarth's former prints is a
list of the rich presents Signior Farinelli, the Italian singer,
condescended to accept from the English nobility and gentry for one
night's performance in the opera of _Artaxerxes!_ comprising gold
snuff-boxes, diamond rings, diamond buckles, etc. That such presents
were actually made is ascertained by the newspapers of the day.
[15] The group of which this is composed is worthy observation.
The Counsellor is pointing to a friar and a nun who are in close
conversation.
[16] Mrs. Lane (afterwards Lady Bingley).
[17] Fox Lane, her husband.
[18] Weideman.
[19] This curious delineation is whimsically placed immediately over
the head of the Italian.
[20] Of the wisdom displayed in this judgment much has been said;
I have sometimes thought that a decision of the great Frederick of
Prussia's was equally deserving of record. When a list of criminals,
who had forfeited their lives by violating the laws of their country,
was once brought to him to sign, he observed the name of a soldier
convicted of sacrilege.--"That a soldier of mine should be guilty of
so atrocious a crime," said the king, "astonishes and distresses me.
I will not, however, sign his death-warrant until I have examined him
in person." The man was accordingly brought into the royal presence,
and two monks, who were his accusers, declared that he had come
into their church during the time they were celebrating mass, and
placed himself under an image of the Virgin Mary, from whose shoes
he had privately taken two pearl bows, and carried them out of the
church: they pursued him, and found them in his pocket. The king,
turning to the criminal, desired to know what he had to say in his
defence? which was simply this: that he was a disbanded soldier, and
in great distress for a dinner: that he walked into the churchyard,
and earnestly prayed to the Virgin Mary that she would put him in
the way of getting one: that she appeared to him, and told him she
heard his supplications, and pitied his distress; to relieve which,
she begged him to accept of some pearls which were on the feet of
her image in the neighbouring church. When the doors opened, he
walked into the church and took them out of her shoes, with an
intention of converting them into money. "This," said the king,
"alters the face of the business; but tell me, most reverend fathers,
for you undoubtedly know, is it according to your canons possible
that the Virgin could, to relieve distress and preserve a life,
appear to this poor man in the way he describes?"--"Undoubtedly,
my liege, she could, but it is not probable that she did." "Is it
possible?"--"Certainly." "Very well. I will not let a soldier of mine
suffer death upon probabilities. He shall be discharged this time;
but observe what I say to you, young man; if at any future period I
find that you accept another present from either virgin, saint, or
angel, you shall be hanged."
[21] It is said to be copied from the frontispiece to a twopenny
history of the notified Moll Flanders; but I do not remember
seeing it among Mr. Gulston's two-and-twenty thousand portraits of
illustrious characters.
[22] This is one among many proofs of Mr. Hogarth's close attention
to those little markings which have been generally disregarded
by other artists. By a fire in the room he fixes the time to be
winter,--a season in which those exotic amusements, masquerades, are
most frequent in the metropolis.
[23] "If he do not become a cart as well as another man--a plague on
his bringing up!"
[24] A brawn's head, with an orange in its mouth, was at that time a
fashionable winter dish; and it was a standing dish which might be
marched from the pantry to the parlour, and give the semblance of
plenty for forty days. This was perhaps one reason for our votary of
Mammon making it the leading article in his bill of fare; the rest
and residue of his feast is made up by a solitary egg.
A boiled egg was the usual dinner of Sir Hans Sloane. When he once
complained to Dr. Mortimer that all his friends had deserted him, the
Doctor observed that Chelsea was a considerable distance from the
residence of most of them, and therefore they might be disappointed
when they came to find he had so slight a dinner. This gentle
remonstrance put the old Baronet in a rage, and he exclaimed, "Keep a
table! Invite people to dinner! Would you have me ruin myself? Public
credit totters already, and if (as has been presaged) there should be
a national bankruptcy, or a sponge to wipe out the national debt, you
may yet see me in a workhouse." His landed estate was at that time
very considerable, and his museum worth much more than the twenty
thousand pounds which was, however, given for it by Parliament.
Scanty as is our citizen's dinner, his table-cloth is ample. The
founder of Guy's Hospital, which is the first private foundation in
the world, was not so extravagant. His constant substitute for a
table-cloth was either a dirty proof sheet of some book or an old
newspaper.
[25] Let not any censure fall upon Mr. Hogarth for these indelicate
representations. He evidently means to burlesque the gross and
ridiculous absurdities of the Dutch painters.
[26] These canine unfortunates are not only useful when living, but
frequently _die for the good of mankind_. Some have their throats
cut, to prove the efficacy of a styptic; others are bled to death for
a philosophical transfusion; and very many resign their breath in the
receiver of an air-pump. _Unhappy Dogs!_
[27] "It appears to have been a part of that curse which the
disobedience of the first man brought upon his posterity, that we
were compelled to stain our hands in blood, and to subsist on the
destruction of other animals. But surely, if the necessity of our
nature obliges us to deprive an innocent being of life, it ought to
be done in the easiest and speediest manner! and such was the custom
among the peculiar people of God. What shall we say to that luxury
which, for a momentary gratification of appetite, condemns a creature
endued with feeling, perhaps with mind, to languish in torments, and
expire by a protracted and cruel death?"--_Sermons by George Gregory,
D.D., F.A.S._, 2d edit. p. 100.
[28] How much are we the creatures of habit! Those who would shudder
at tying a lobster to a wooden spit, and roasting it alive, will
_coolly_ place a dozen oysters between the bars of a slow fire; and
yet these oysters, notwithstanding their supposed torpor, may have an
equal degree of feeling with their armoured brother.
[29] I remember once seeing a practical lesson of humanity given to
a little chimney-sweeper, which had, I dare say, a better effect
than a volume of ethics. The young soot merchant was seated upon
an alehouse bench, and had in one hand his brush, and in the other
a hot buttered roll. While exercising his white masticators with a
perseverance that evinced the highest gratification, he observed a
dog lying on the ground near him. The repetition of "Poor fellow,
poor fellow," in a good-natured tone, brought the quadruped from
his resting-place: he wagged his tail, looked up with an eye of
humble entreaty, and in that universal language which all nations
understand, asked for a morsel of bread. The sooty tyrant held his
remnant of roll towards him; but on the dog gently offering to take
it, struck him with his brush so violent a blow across the nose as
nearly broke the bone. A gentleman who, unperceived, had been a
witness to the whole transaction, put a sixpence between his finger
and thumb, and beckoned this little monarch of May-day to an opposite
door. The lad grinned at the silver, but on stretching out his hand
to receive it, the practical teacher of humanity gave him such a rap
upon the knuckles with a cane as made them ring. His hand tingling
with pain, and tears running down his cheeks, he asked "What that was
for?" "To make you feel," was the reply. "How do you like a blow and
a disappointment?--the dog endured both! Had you given him a piece
of bread, this sixpence should have been the reward; you gave him a
blow, I will therefore put the money in my pocket."
[30] By a strange and inapplicable mistake, this has sometimes been
written Thieves Inn. It was at that time the longest shilling fare
from the great fountain of law in Westminster.
[31] Though contrary to an express Act of Parliament, this is done
every day.
[32] To the dishonour of our police, the savage custom of driving
cattle through the streets, even at high noon, is still continued,
though scarce a week passes without a consequent accident. Might not
the Fleet Market be removed to Smithfield, and that for live cattle
be held in the skirts of the city, with a penalty upon any person
driving a beast through the streets after nine in the morning? This
may be impracticable; but the number of accidents which happen from
the present custom show the necessity of some reform.
[33] Instead of Amphitheatres, these Gymnasia are now more elegantly
called Academies.
[34] The scene has been said to be laid in Pancras Churchyard: I
think it bears more resemblance to that of Marybone. The building in
the background may be on the same eminence where now is the Jew's
Harp House. This is only conjecture, and as such let it be received.
[35] Shakspeare saw this in its true light:
"_Hamlet._ Has this fellow any feeling of his business?
"_Horatio._ Custom hath made it in him a matter of easiness.
"_Hamlet._ Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath the
daintier sense."
[36] The president much resembles old Frieake, who was the master of
Nourse, to whom the late Mr. Potts was a pupil.
Mr. Frieake was originally a member of the Barbers' Company, and
lived in Salisbury Square. Being desirous of building a carriage
on the most reasonable terms, he employed a number of journeymen
coachmakers in his own garret. They performed their task, but found
it was not possible to get this appendage to modern practice into the
street by any other means than unroofing the house. This was done,
and a bricklayer's bill for re-covering the attic storey rendered his
_saving_ scheme much more expensive than it would have been if he had
employed the king's coachmaker.
[37] The importance of the brewery to the revenue will appear by the
following statement:--