Hogarth's Works, with life and anecdotal descriptions of his pictures. Volume 1 (of 3)

In one corner a lady, who personates Jove's eagle, is feeding a child.

is placed a tin saucepan with the infant's food. The child, terrified with the enormous beak hanging over its head, refuses the proffered nourishment. This crown once pressed the brow of haughty Bolingbroke:

In the other corner, a monkey, in a long cloak, a bag-wig, and solitaire, is degrading the plumed helmet of Alexander.

Two kittens seem happily engaged: one of them, in a style that shows she has a fine finger, "touches the trembling lyre;" the other rolls an orb imperial. Near them are a number of balls,[148] and two cups; which intimate that this company of comedians practise sleight of hand, and to fill their house will sometimes condescend to play legerdemain tricks. In the same part of the print are three emblems of the law—two judges' periwigs, and a halter.

A mitre filled with tragedies and farces, and a dark lantern, are placed upon a pulpit-cushion. Whether the artist intended these for symbols of the church, and designed to hint at the dark cloud which long enveloped the mysteries of religion, or had any other meaning, must be determined by those who have studied polemic divinity, and considered ecclesiastical history.

A trunk, which has occasionally served for the concealment of Iachimo, and been displayed as the coffin of Juliet, is now placed with the end upwards, and become the reading-desk of the ox-eyed Juno. Upon it is a tinder-box, and the thunderbolt of Jove, a salt-box, and a rolling-pin. The two last articles have much importance in the catalogue of the properties of their orchestra. Their leading musical instrument, the sonorous bass-viol, leans against the altar, and the sweet-sounding lyre lies on the floor.

Ten small tallow candles, stuck in clay, will be fastened to a hoop, which, suspended by a packthread over the centre of the stage, must form a most magnificent chandelier.

On that bed which has been pressed by the gentle Desdemona, and softened the sleep of beauteous Imogen, are two play-bills and four eggs. One of the eggs is broken: the others may perhaps be intended to render the silver-toned siren's voice more softly musical.

Two sets of waves, which gave the tempest-tossed vessel an appearance of being suspended

are in a dead calm, resting against the wall. One of them is become the roosting place of a hen and chickens.

The frieze, festooned column, and arched door, form part of their grand scene; but they, as well as the vase with flowers, are in too elegant a style for their accompaniments.

The spirit-stirring drum, martial trumpet, and enchanted besom, make an admirable trophy. The two first may serve to call the shallow Richmond to arms, or rouse Macbeth to more than mortal deeds; the latter is unquestionably used in the incantations of Hecate, and may be sometimes bestrid by one of the weird sisters, to "ride in the whirlwind, and direct the storm."

The two dragons will astonish a rustic audience; and the rattling car, rolled over elastic planks, will make dreadful thunder.[149]

The British flag must wave for every nation upon earth;[150] may be borne before Macedonia's madman in his triumphal entry, or wave upon the battlements of Macbeth's castle. It is either the ensign of Henry or the standard of Coriolanus.

The straw deposited in a corner may serve for the bed of Lear, the head of Edgar, or the hands of the fair Ophelia.

Canopied by an opaque cloud, inscribed "Oedipus" and "Jocasta," and evidently intended as a scene in Lee's mad play,[151] we discover the heads of two figures reposing in the straw, instead of the garden, "as was their custom in the afternoon."

A fellow, clambered to the top of the barn, is profanely prying into the hallowed mysteries of the green-room. A little lower is the Roman eagle and standard; close to them a paint-pot, palette, and pencils. The very natural appearance of two rural scenes which lean against the wooden wall, evince that some eminent artist has united the two professions, and is both painter and hero to the company. "Hills and dales are of his dressing." He can delineate the blasted oak or nodding turret, the lofty castle or humble cottage, with such brilliancy of colouring and splendour of effect, that the astonished connoisseur sometimes exclaims,

A target, close to the altar, is richly embossed with Medusa's head. A salt-box, before the divine Juno, is chalked with hieroglyphic marks that might have been originally made by this sovereign daughter of the drama as a check upon an alehouse score. This economical attention to Cocker's Arithmetic is very necessary with even a royal revenue; for

The chemise, apron, cap, and ruffles, hanging upon a rope to dry, display marks of a laudable industry, and prove that these dignified personages, maugre their exalted rank, wash their own linen. The gridiron, close to the bed, intimates that they are not above broiling their own beefsteaks.

The expression of the figures in this print is admirable. Nothing can exceed the mock-heroic dignity of Juno;[153] she is as haughty as one of her own peacocks. The Tragic Muse has been so frequently up to the ears in blood, that she laughs at the tortures of the poor quadruped whose tail she is cutting off. The faces of the tumbler, the cat, and the Medusa, in beauty and character, "contend for mastery."

A little devil, who has his fist clenched, and threatens the other for drinking so deep, is admirably marked; from the eyes of his twin-brother, with the vessel to his mouth, we see that he highly relishes and greedily inhales the delicious draught.

The group, formed by the five preceding characters, is well composed, and their various dispositions most forcibly delineated. In the ranting representative of the pale moon, unblushing, unabashed impudence; in the siren, mawkish intoxication; and in Ganymede, an appearance of that agony which arises from the toothache.

Notwithstanding the candle that is near setting fire to the hamper of jewels, we see through a breach in the thatch that this is a daylight picture; in so shattered a tenement, it is not easy to determine from what source the figures are illuminated.

From the Act of Parliament which lies upon the bed, we learn that this diabolical drama will be their last performance; and when this abstract and brief chronicle of the times have fretted their little hour upon the stage, and made their exit, the barn will be appropriated to its proper uses:

That time come,

The original picture is in the possession of Mr. Wood of Lyttlecote, who purchased it for twenty-six guineas!

MR. GARRICK IN THE CHARACTER OF RICHARD III.

This paper was put in the Duke of Norfolk's tent the night before the engagement; but not being brought to Richard until after the time represented in this scene, can only be admitted by that poetical licence which has been generally allowed to poets and painters.

The figures in the distance, two of whom,

are properly introduced, and highly descriptive.

The tents of Richmond are so near,

Considered as a whole, the composition is simple, and the figures well drawn. The drapery illustrates his own precepts in the Analysis, where he says: "The robes of state are always made large and full, because they give a grandeur of appearance suitable to offices of the greatest distinction. The judges' robes have an awful dignity given them by the quantity of their contents; and when the train is held up, there is a noble waving line descending from the shoulders of the judge to the hand of his train-bearer. So, when the train is gently thrown aside, it generally falls into a great variety of folds, which again employ the eye, and fix its attention.

"The grandeur of the Eastern dress, which so far surpasses the European, depends as much on quantity as costliness. In a word, it is quantity which adds greatness to grace."

There was some propriety in Hogarth choosing to paint Mr. Garrick in this character. It was the first he appeared in, on the 19th of October 1741, at Goodman's Fields, and his performance gave proof of talents which merited the celebrity he afterwards attained. At that time Quin was the popular player; but his laboured action, hollow tones, and the manner in which he heaved up his words, were not borne after Garrick's easy, familiar, and yet forcible style had been seen by the town. The surly actor's remark upon this heresy of the critics was, that "all this was a new religion; but though Whitfield was followed for a time, the people would soon return to the true church." Garrick's epigram, in reply, has some point:

His soliloquy, written in the character of Quin, on seeing Duke Humphrey at St. Albans, has humour:

By Lord Orrery's[154] persuasions, Mr. Pope went to Goodman's Fields and saw Garrick in the first dawn of his fame. This great poet, who had formed his taste upon the solemn and dignified elevation of voice which distinguished Betterton (to whom he was so partial, that he once painted his portrait, which, until it was burnt in the riots of 1780, was in the possession of Lord Mansfield);—this great poet was so struck with the natural elocution of Mr. Garrick, that he exclaimed, "The young man will be flattered, and ruined; for there will be no competitor that can excite his emulation." His prophecy was in part fulfilled; for though Garrick had many competitors, he had no equal. In the course of his theatrical career he had frequent attacks, but they were generally foiled. One great source of his success was, that Shakspeare's plays were at that time becoming much more popular than they had been at any preceding period. Let it be recorded to the honour of our fair countrywomen, that this was in some degree owing to several ladies of the first rank and most distinguished taste, who had some years before formed themselves into a society to support, by their presence and encouragement, all the best plays of Shakspeare. They were called the Shakspeare Club, and every week ordered some favourite play of our divine bard; but the feeble powers of the performers were not sufficient to support the reviving taste of the public. The best among them thought that the whole art of playing consisted in measured, pompous periods, and that an approach to nature was a departure from eloquence. The pellucid stream of Avon was congealed by the coldness of their declamation, and the beams of Shakspeare enveloped in the vapour of their mock-heroic recitative. Until the appearance of this our Newton of the theatre, the drama was under a dense cloud: "he came, and all was light."

Mr. Garrick's profession was not adopted from necessity, but choice; and to him the profession is very materially obliged, for he has placed it in a much more respectable point of view than it ever had before.

His various powers as an actor, to those who have seen him, it is unnecessary to describe; to those who have not, it is impossible. His abilities as a writer were not of the first order, but they were by no means of the last. It has been remarked, that his prologues and epilogues had generally some allusion to eating: considered as local and temporary compositions, they have merit; and his epigrams, which usually turned upon some little circumstance of the day, have point. They sometimes drew forth additional flashes from his friends, and sometimes the retort of those at whom they were aimed; as in the following, addressed to the redoubted and eccentric Doctor Hill:—

The two next were afterwards inserted in the public prints, and said to be the productions of some of Mr. Garrick's friends:—

This was too bad, and the Doctor sent the following answer to one of the papers:—

Like his brethren of the sock and buskin, our English Roscius was honoured with much attention from the public prints. They gave us critical examinations of his powers, and critical disquisitions upon his defects; from an enumeration of which it was proved, clearly proved, that he would never be a good actor. The remarks of these ingenious gentlemen were soon forgotten: the testimony of an applauding public answered and refuted them. By way of antidote to these poisons, it must be acknowledged that Mr. Garrick's friends nearly surfeited the town with injudicious praise. Their flattery was gross enough to have disgusted any other man; but he had been so accustomed to strong doses of panegyric, that he could at last swallow them double distilled. I have said that he was an actor by choice; I might have added, that he was always an actor. Goldsmith's lines in retaliation are a true portrait:

The ode to the memory of Shakspeare, which he wrote and spoke at Stratford, with many weak lines, has some that show strong marks of a fervid imagination and vigorous mind. To instance the following:

Many of his jeu d'esprits are related; the following I never saw recorded. When he and Quin strutted at the same theatre, and in the same play, the performance ending, and the night being rainy, each of them ordered a chair, and walked to the door of the playhouse. To the mortification of Quin, Garrick's chair came first: "Let me get into the chair," cried the surly veteran, "let me get into the chair, and put little Davy into the lantern." "By all means," replied Garrick, "I shall be happy to give Mr. Quin light in anything."

The little tribute which Doctor Johnson has paid to his memory is written from the heart: I cannot resist transcribing it:—

"At this man's (Mr. Walmsley's) table I enjoyed many cheerful and instructive hours with companions such as are not often to be found; with one who has heightened, and who has gladdened life: with Dr. James, whose skill in physic will be long remembered; and with David Garrick, whom I hoped to have gratified with this character of our common friend. But what are the hopes of man! I am disappointed by that stroke of death, which has eclipsed the gaiety of nations, and impoverished the public stock of harmless pleasure."—Life of Edmund Smith.

Mr. Hogarth lived in habits of intimacy with David Garrick, who being President of the Shakspeare Club at the time of the Stratford Jubilee, our painter made him a drawing of a chair, which was afterwards wrought in mahogany. A medallion of Shakspeare, carved by Hogarth from a piece of the Stratford mulberry-tree, is suspended to the back of it.

The paintings of the "Harlot's Progress," and "Strolling Players," produced little more than a hundred guineas; but in such estimation are portraits, that the original picture from which this print was copied, in every point of view inferior, was purchased by the late Mr. Duncombe, of Duncombe Park, Yorkshire, at two hundred pounds! It still remains in his family. The print, by Mr. Hogarth's permission, was copied for a watch-paper.

INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS.

The following description of Mr. Hogarth's design in these twelve plates is copied from his own handwriting:—

"Industry and Idleness exemplified in the conduct of two fellow-'prentices; where the one by taking good courses, and pursuing points for which he was put apprentice, becomes a valuable man, and an ornament to his country; the other, by giving way to idleness, naturally falls into poverty, and ends fatally, as is expressed in the last print. As the prints were intended more for use than ornament, they were done in a way that might bring them within the purchase of those whom they might most concern; and lest any print should be mistaken, the description of each print is engraved at top."

Such is the professed intention of the artist, and such his apology for the manner in which these plates are engraved; for, as Mr. Walpole justly remarks, they have more merit in their intention than execution.

As a contrast to an idle and vicious character, who is brought to consequent misery and shame, his fellow-'prentice is depicted moral, attentive, and industrious; and, by regular and natural gradations, attains the highest dignities of the greatest city in Europe. This is making the pencil an instrument in the cause of virtue, holding up the mirror of morality and truth, and showing the fair reward of industry and integrity to be happiness, honour, and independence; and the inevitable consequences of idleness and vice to be poverty, misery, and shame.

The hint for contrasting these two very opposite characters is taken from the old play of Eastward Hoe, written by Ben Jonson, George Chapman, and John Marston, printed for William Aspley, 1605, and reprinted in Dodsley's collection. In this comedy, Touchstone, a plain and honest old citizen and goldsmith, has two apprentices, Golding and Quicksilver: the former is a counterpart of Hogarth's Goodchild, and the latter has many of the dispositions of Mr. Thomas Idle. Touchstone, in a proverbial and formal style, advises all who wish to become respectable, and acquire independence, to conduct themselves on the same principles that he had done, and by adherence to which he had gained his fortune:

"I hired me a little shop, bought low, took small profits, kept no debt book; garnished my shop (instead of plate) with good, wholesome, thrifty sentences: such as, 'Touchstone, keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee;' 'Light gains make a heavy purse;' 'It is good to be merry and wise,' etc. etc.

The prologue concludes with what may serve as an explanatory apology for the prints as well as the play:

Golding marries Touchstone's favourite daughter; and the old citizen, in the quaint style of that day, wishes he may live to see him "one of the monuments of the city, and reckoned among her worthies; to be remembered the same day with Lady Ramsey and grave Gresham, when the famous fable of Whittington and his puss shall be forgotten, and thou and thy acts become the posies for hospitals; when thy name shall be written upon conduits, and thy deeds played i' thy lifetime by the best company of actors, and be called their 'Get-penny;' this I divine and prophesy."

In the comedy, as in the prints, one of the scenes is laid at Cuckold's Haven; young Golding becoming a magistrate, Quicksilver is brought before him as a criminal, etc. etc.

PLATE I.

THE FELLOW-'PRENTICES AT THEIR LOOMS.

At the time these twelve prints were published, the business of a silk weaver was considered as much more respectable and important than it has been since the general fashion of wearing linen. The first view we have of the two heroes of our history, is at the looms of their master, an inhabitant of Spitalfields. The assiduity of one of these young artisans is manifested in his countenance, and attention to the business he is engaged in. Over his head hang those two excellent old ballads, Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London, and The Valiant Apprentice. On the floor near him is the 'Prentice's Guide, a book which our citizen probably presented to every young man he had under his care; for we see the same title on a mutilated volume at the feet of Mr. Thomas Idle, who, being asleep, has dropped his shuttle, which a cat is playing with. On the wall hangs the ballad of Moll Flanders, and very near him is a tobacco-pipe[156] and a porter pot; the somniferous qualities of these two narcotics have perhaps contributed to close his eyes. His appearance is consonant to his disposition; hair uncombed, collar unbuttoned, and worn-out coat, are strong indications of negligence and sloth. With angry eye, and cane lifted up, the master, just entering the room, seems very well disposed to punish his indolence and drowsiness; but these habits are too strongly rooted to be eradicated by chastisement.

Thus far is admirably thought, and intelligibly depicted; but the delineation, as far as regards the picturesque effect, is beneath criticism. The head of Master Francis Goodchild, placed between two square posts, looks as if it were stuck in the pillory; the physiognomy of Mister Thomas Idle is correctly correspondent with his depraved character; but the introduction of such a number of angles and parallel lines as the scene demanded, the artist's eye could never have borne upon any other principle than that given in his introductory declaration, "that the prints were intended for use more than ornament."

PLATE II.

THE INDUSTRIOUS 'PRENTICE PERFORMING THE DUTY OF A CHRISTIAN.

"O how I love Thy law! it is my meditation all the day."—Psalm cxix. 97.

The preacher, reader, and clerk, with many of the small figures in the gallery and beneath, are truly ludicrous; and we regret their being on so reduced a scale, that they are scarce perceptible to the naked eye. It was necessary that the artist should exhibit a crowded congregation, but it must be acknowledged he has neglected the rules of perspective. The print wants depth. In the countenance of Miss West and her lover there is a resemblance. Their faces have not much expression, but this is atoned for by a natural and pleasing simplicity. Character was not necessary.

PLATE III.

THE IDLE 'PRENTICE AT PLAY IN THE CHURCHYARD DURING DIVINE SERVICE.

"Judgments are prepared for scorners, and stripes for the back of fools."—Proverbs xix. 29.

While the industrious and sedate apprentice is engaged in such exercises as mend the heart and improve the understanding; while properly devoting the seventh day to the praise of his Creator, he attends divine service, returns thanks for the blessings he enjoys, and prays for their continuance, an inmate of the same house, about the same age, and of the same rank in society, who might have participated in all his advantages, is stretched upon a grave-stone in the churchyard, and gambling with a group of mendicants. Their amusement seems to be the favourite old English game of hustle-cap, and our idle and unprincipled youth is endeavouring to cheat, by concealing some of the halfpence under the broad brim of his hat. This is perceived by the shoeblack, and warmly resented by the fellow with the black patch over his eye, who loudly insists on the hats being fairly removed. The eager anxiety which marks these mean gamblers is equal to that of two peers playing for an estate. The latter could not have more solicitude for the turn of a die which was to determine who was the proprietor of ten thousand acres, than is displayed in the countenance of Mr. Thomas Idle. Their debate has been loud, and their attention is so much engrossed, that they have not heard the cautious steps of a beadle, who seems likely to terminate the dispute by a smart stroke from his rattan, which is aimed with apparent goodwill at the back of our disciple of indolence. His three associates are of the lowest order; among them is a half-naked shoeblack. Like his companion, with one hand lifted up to his head, he is disturbing part of that clan who have been always distinguished for their tenacious adherence to the slothful. The tombstone—inscribed, "Here lies the body of"—applies very well to the young gentleman who, in an attitude highly expressive of idleness, is recumbent upon it. Even the skulls, on the ground near the new-opened grave, have character. These, with the other mementos of mortality, are indiscriminately scattered on the earth, and trampled upon by the most contemptible survivors. "How rich, how honoured once, avails them not."

The figures in this print are well grouped, and the countenances of the gamblers and beadle admirably marked.

PLATE IV.

THE INDUSTRIOUS 'PRENTICE A FAVOURITE, AND ENTRUSTED BY HIS MASTER.

From attention to business and propriety of conduct, the industrious apprentice has gained the confidence of his employer. He is now in the counting-house, entrusted with the management of the business; has the day-book, purse, and keys in his hands, and attentively listens to the directions of his friendly master, who, with a face expressive of the highest partiality and regard, familiarly leans upon his shoulder. A partnership, on the eve of taking place, is covertly intimated by a pair of gloves upon the writing-desk. The young merchant's sedulous application is well hinted at by an headpiece to the London Almanac, "Industry taking time by the forelock." A city porter, bringing in bales of goods, has a true Bardolphian face. The mastiff that attends him is violently opposed by the domestic cat, who, considering this house as her own peculiar domain, and having an hereditary dislike to the canine species, endeavours to drive him from the premises. Neither cat, dog, nor porter are well drawn, nor is much regard paid to perspective; but the general design is carried on by such easy and natural gradations, and the consequent success of an attentive conduct displayed in colours so plain and perspicuous, that little errors in execution should be overlooked or forgiven.

PLATE V.

THE IDLE 'PRENTICE TURNED AWAY AND SENT TO SEA.

"A foolish son is the heaviness of his mother."—Proverbs x. 1.

Corrupted by sloth, and contaminated by bad company, the idle apprentice, having forfeited the regard and tired the patience of his master, is sent to sea, in the hope that a separation from his associates, joined to the inevitable hardships of a maritime life, may in some degree reclaim him. He is exhibited in the ship's boat, accompanied by his afflicted mother, whose dress intimates that she is a widow, and who had naturally formed hopes of this boy's being a comfort to her old age. The waterman, with a significant face, points to a figure on a gibbet, advising him to look at it as emblematical of his future fate. A boy shows him a cat-o'-nine tails as a specimen of the discipline on board a ship; this water-wit the abandoned young man returns by holding up two fingers in the form of horns, and recommending this Joe Miller of the Thames to look at Cuckold's Point, which is in the distance. Having forfeited his indentures, he has thrown them into the river, is totally lost to reflection, and insensible to the grief of his mother, the ridicule of his companions, or his own unhappy situation.

That great geographer of the human face, Lavater of Zurich, has very properly thought a copy of this print worthy a place in his Essays on Physiognomy. His observations deserve attention:—

"Here are the traits of drunkenness combined with thoughtless stupidity. Who can look without disgust? Would these wretches have been what they are, had they not by vice erased nature's marks? Can perversion be more apparent than in the middle profile?"

PLATE VI.

THE INDUSTRIOUS 'PRENTICE OUT OF HIS TIME, AND MARRIED TO HIS MASTER'S DAUGHTER.

"The virtuous woman is a crown to her husband."—Proverbs xiii. 4.