Hogarth's Works, with life and anecdotal descriptions of his pictures. Volume 2 (of 3)

[1] From some late examples in our courts of justice, I have thought it barely possible that this dignified descendant of crowned heads, at the same time that he is admiring his own person, may be observing the Counsellor's attention to his lady, and hoping that he shall find some future opportunity of detecting her infidelity and obtaining a divorce. But this is merely conjecture. I wish, for the honour of human nature, that there had been no example to justify such a suspicion.

[2] The following whimsical imitation of Chaucer was written, I believe, by Hermes Harris:—

[3] Hogarth might intend by this, and the improprieties and violations of order in the unfinished building seen out of a window, to hint at the absurdities of the then fashionable architect, William Kent. As a painter Kent was beneath satire, as an architect he was above it; but he was protected by Lord Burlington, patronized by Lord Pembroke, and employed by all who aspired to a character for virtu. Hogarth saw with disgust bordering upon indignation that his taste in one art, modern gardening (of which he was the acknowledged father), procured him the reputation of excellence in another, in which he was grossly ignorant and glaringly erroneous. In some of the grounds laid out by Kent's directions, he realized that Paradise which Milton had described; his patrons saw that he could improve nature in their plantations, and very kindly gave him credit for a power which he never possessed—that of giving an imitation of nature on his canvas. By the Dryades his sacrifice had been accepted; but the offering he laid upon the altar sacred to the fine arts was rejected with disdain. It was the praise of Hercules that he destroyed monsters and discomfited giants; it was the praise of William Kent that he cleared our gardens of their representatives. Before his time the plantations round the seats of our nobility were a kind of vernal menagerie: the lion shook his shaggy mane in yew; the dragon waved his wings in evergreen; and in box, the wild boar displayed his bristled neck and tusks terrific. Our disciple of true taste cleared away these fantastic forms, and in their place gave us nature,—"nature to advantage dressed." But when consulted about interior decorations, his taste evaporated. The heavy canopy over the nobleman's head, the ponderous chairs and massy frames which decorate the room, are from his designs. In some of the old houses of our ancient nobility we see furniture of a similar appearance, though the greatest part of it, after passing through the purgatory of a broker's shop, has either been placed in very inferior situations or consigned to the flames.

Of Kent's abilities as a painter the public thought so highly, that he was absurdly enough opposed to Sir James Thornhill. This circumstance might be one source of Hogarth's dislike; he, however, took an early opportunity of showing it, by what is called a "Burlesque of Kent's Altarpiece at St. Clement's Church," but which Hogarth declared to be a fair delineation of the original. A reduced copy is in vol. iii. of this work; see p. 17 of the 2d edition.

[4] Some of the portraits of Louis XIV. are quite as absurd. We are told that he once sent to Rome for Poussin, to paint him in the character of Jupiter. This great artist obeyed the summons, and prepared his canvas and colours; when, to his extreme astonishment, the monarch informed him that, although he was to be delineated as the representative of Jove, etiquette did not permit him to appear without his major peruke, and he must consequently be so painted. Poussin, not able to conceive any way of giving appropriate dignity to the thunderer of Olympus with this flowing appendage, declined beginning the picture, and returned to Rome without making his congé.

[5] By the loose negligence of her habit, and some circumstances, I am inclined to think the artist intended to represent her as pregnant. It has been said that after Baron had finished the plate, Mr. Hogarth added a lock of hair with Indian ink, but after a few impressions were taken off, inserted this supplemental ornament with the graver. In his Analysis of Beauty, he makes a remark which in some degree accounts for the introduction of this fascinating attraction:—

"It was once the fashion to have two curls of equal size, stuck at the same height close upon the forehead, which probably took its rise from seeing the pretty effect of curls falling loosely over the face.

"A lock of hair falling thus across the temples, and by that means breaking the regularity of the oval, has an effect too alluring to be strictly decent, as is very well known to the loose and lowest classes of women; but being paired in so stiff a manner as they formerly were, they lost the desired effect, and ill deserved the name of ornaments."

Moralists of different nations have considered hair as calculated to entangle hearts, and one of our pious writers of the last century wrote a furious treatise on the unloveliness of love-locks.

[6] A chair kicked down, an Essay on Whist, cards scattered on the floor, and the general confusion of everything in the room, seem to intimate that this right honourable society were actuated by passions somewhat similar to those which inflame the gentlemen in the sixth plate of "The Rake's Progress." Though a genuine gamester is not apt to lose his presence of mind on slight occasions, yet when a man of rank is stripped of sums that will draw into their vortex many anticipated years of his revenue, he is liable to lose his temper, and on such occasions apt to vent his spleen on inanimate objects. Such things sometimes happen even now.

[7] Absurd as this may seem, yet until Mr. Wedgwood introduced those beautiful Etruscan forms which now decorate the rooms, and form the taste of the possessors, these shapeless monsters disgraced the most splendid apartments in the metropolis.

[8] "Kent was not only consulted for furniture, as frames of pictures, glasses, tables, chairs, etc., but for plate, for a barge, for a cradle. So impetuous was fashion, that two great ladies prevailed on him to make designs for their birthday gowns. The one he dressed in a petticoat decorated with columns of the five orders; the other, like a bronze, in copper-coloured satin, with ornaments of gold."—Walpole's Anecdotes, 2d edit., vol. iv. p. 239.

[9] This race still roll round the metropolis; and while some put their trust in chariots, horses, and impudence, others depend on the credulity of his Majesty's liege subjects.

The following epitaph was written for one of them:—

[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:—

MALT AND BREWERS.

The duty on malt from July 5, 1785, to the same day 1786, produced a million and a half of money, from a liquor which invigorates the bodies of its willing subjects to defend the blessings they enjoy, while that from Stygian gin enervates and incapacitates.

One of the brewers (or Chevaliers de Malte, as an impertinent Frenchman styled Humphrey Parsons, when the King of France inquired who he was) within one year contributed fifty thousand pounds to his own share. The sight of a great London brewery exhibits a magnificence unspeakable. The vessels evince the extent of the trade. Mr. Meux of Liquorpond Street can show twenty-four vessels containing thirty-five thousand four hundred barrels of wholesome liquor, which enables our London porter-drinkers to perform tasks that ten gin-drinkers would sink under.

[38] This gentleman has been very properly baptized the Herring Poet.

[39] It is directed to the Trunkmaker, and contains five enormous folios, titled as follows:—Lauder on Milton. Politics, vol. 999. Modern Tragedies, vol. 12. Hill on the Royal Society, and Turnbull on Ancient Paintings. The two last are worthy of a better fate, for one has some wit, and the other many sensible remarks.

[40] It is not 400 years since a Baron of this realm was tried for high crimes and misdemeanours, and one of the chief accusations exhibited against him was, that he suffered himself to be carried about his garden by two of his own species.

[41] It is said, I don't know upon what authority, to be intended as a burlesque delineation of John Stephen Liotard, of whom Mr. Walpole thus writes in p. 195 of his Anecdotes:—

"Devoid of imagination, and one would think of memory, he could render nothing but what he saw before his eyes. Freckles, marks of the small-pox, everything found its place; not so much from fidelity, as because he could not conceive the absence of anything that appeared to him."

This miserable personage may, however, be only intended to show the state of the arts at that time, when an English painter, if not excellent in portraits, had no other patronage than that of those gentlemen who put out signs of Blue Lions, Green Dragons, and Red Harts. Thanks to the talents of our immortal bard, it is not so now. Whether the artists of the present day drain copious draughts of humble porter, or fill their flagons with Falernian or French wines, let not the memory of their patron poet be forgotten. "He merits all their wonder, all their praise!"

[42] This wretched being was painted from nature. His cry was, "Buy my ballads, and I'll give you a glass of gin for nothing."

[43] This infernal broth is vulgarly called "Strip-me-naked," and has almost invariably that effect.

[44] This is an unnatural and violent exaggeration.

[45] The church in view is St. George's, Bloomsbury. Ralph, in his Critical Review of the Buildings in London, properly observes that "this structure is ridiculous and absurd even to a proverb. That the builder mistook whim for genius, and ornament for taste, and that the execrable conceit of displaying a statue of the king on the top of it excites laughter in the ignorant, and contempt in the judge of architecture."

[46] Two of these harpies have names highly descriptive of their professions—"Gripe" and "Killman."

[47] I hope I shall not be censured for inserting a quotation from Fingal as the motto to an imitation of Rembrandt. Both poet and painter delighted in darkness, and each of them sometimes introduced a sublime and majestic figure, which beamed through the gloom "like the new moon seen through a gathered mist, when the sky pours down its flaky snow, and the world is silent and dark."

[48] This little winged periwinkle is engraven in a very different style from the rest of the plate, much of which is a sort of aquæ tint. Many impressions were taken off without this figure.

[49] On the blade is engraven a dagger, the arms of our metropolis.

[50] This has been generally thought intended for a portrait of Hume Campbell, who, like some of his boisterous brethren of the present day, distinguished himself by a sort of savage elocution more consonant to Billingsgate than a court of law. Others have said it was designed for Doctor William King, Principal of St. Mary Hall, Oxford, and in proof of their assertion refer to an ascertained portrait in Worlidge's view of "Lord Westmoreland's Installation," 1761, to which it has a striking resemblance.

[51] On the scraps are inscribed, "We have found this man a pestilent fellow, a mover of sedition among the Jews, ringleader of the sect," etc. etc. etc.

[52] While the plate remained in the hands of Mrs. Hogarth impressions were sold at that price, but were afterwards reduced to three shillings.

[53] With each infant was then sent some little memorial by which it might be known at a future day. The following lines were written by an unfortunate widow, and pinned to the breast of a child who was received into the hospital:

Some fifteen or sixteen years ago, a person of respectable appearance went to the hospital, and requested to see the chapel, great room, etc. He then desired to speak with the treasurer, to whom he presented a ten-pound bank note, expressing a wish that it might be recorded as a small but grateful memorial from the first orphan who was apprenticed by the charity. He added, "I was that orphan, and in consequence of the education I here received, have had the power of acquiring an independence with integrity and honour."

[54] Several other pictures were presented to the hospital by the few eminent painters who then lived in London.

"The donations in painting which several artists presented to the Foundling Hospital were among the first objects of this nature which engaged the public attention. The artists observing the effects that these paintings produced, came, in the year 1760, to a resolution to try the fate of a public exhibition of their works. This effort had its desired effect. The public were entertained, and the artists were excited to emulation."—Strange's Inquiry into the Rise and Establishment of the Royal Academy, p. 63.

This gives Hogarth a right to be classed, if not among those who were founders of the Royal Academy, as one of the first causes of its establishment.

[55] Be this as it may, certain it is that the boy, who was afterwards so great a Jewish legislator, bears a very strong resemblance to the Egyptian princess. That the artist meant by this family likeness to hint that he was of royal descent, I do not presume to assert.

[56] The head is said to be copied from a youth of the name of Seaton. The attitude and general air very much resemble that of Delilah, in a picture painted by Vandyke, of Samson seized by the Philistines, now in the Emperor's gallery at Vienna.

[57] These prints were promised to the subscribers sooner than they could be completed; and in consequence of their being delayed, the following advertisement was inserted in the Public Advertiser of February 28, 1757:—

This fretful appeal must have been written under the influence of momentary spleen, which might possibly originate in his coadjutor's disappointing, and by that means forcing him to violate his engagements with the public. There is no other apology for his indulging a thought of quitting that walk in which he indisputably led, for another in which he must not only follow, but be far behind some of his contemporaries.

[58] Sir George Saville saw this in its true light. One of the supporters of the Bill of Rights being desirous of introducing Sir George's name among the members of the society, made application to the worthy Baronet for his permission to propose him. Sir George declined the honour, and pleaded his engagements being so numerous that he had not time to attend, etc. etc. "We do not expect your attendance," replied his friend; "we do not expect your constant attendance; but the sanction of your name would be a tower of strength to the society; and as you see by the public prints, the manner we conduct ourselves, and the business we do, you must approve, I think you cannot refuse us your name." "I do not," said Sir George, "make any objection to your conduct, which I have thought very regular and systematic, but I really dislike the title you have adopted; I observe that you meet, read a string of observations, and then make a motion for adjourning to dinner in the next room; there each man drinks his two bottles to most patriotic and constitutional toasts. In the next paper appear advertisements, that on the following Monday the supporters of the Bill of Rights will meet again. Dinner on table precisely at four o'clock. You dine, and drink your wine; your secretary gives us the same information in the succeeding prints, and again adds, that—dinner will be on the table precisely at four o'clock. All these circumstances induce me to think you should alter your title; instead of 'Supporters of the Bill of Rights,' call yourselves what you really are, 'Supporters of the Bill of Fare!'"

[59] This has been pronounced, I know not upon what authority, to be intended for the late Thomas Potter, Esq.

[60] In page 21 of a quarto pamphlet published in 1755, and entitled, "The Last Blow, or an unanswerable vindication of the society of Exeter College, being a reply to the Vice-Chancellor, Dr. King, and the writers of the London Evening Post," is the following paragraph:—

[61] I think it is recorded in Mr. Joseph Miller's Reports, that our British Solomon often asserted that scratching was too great a luxury for a subject to enjoy.

[62] This woman was remarkable for performing at fairs, country hops, etc. in the neighbourhood of Oxford, and known by the name of Fiddling Nan.

[63] This is a portrait of the present Sir John Parnell, nephew to the poet. He was introduced into this print by his own request, declaring at the same time that, from his being so generally known in Ireland, his face would help the sale of the engraving.

[64] It is supposed to be the portrait of an Oxford bruiser who went by the name of Teague Carter.

[65] A mashing-tub seems a sufficiently capacious vessel, but sinks to nothing when compared with a bowl which, it is recorded, was filled with punch on the 15th of October 1694, at the expense of Admiral Russel. The Admiral's punch was made in a fountain situated in the centre of a large garden, the terminus to four long gravel walks, canopied with orange and lemon trees. In each walk was a table the length of the avenue, covered with a cold collation, consisting of every luxury which the season produced; and in the basin of the fountain, which the gallant seaman chose to call a little basin, for the entertainment of a few friends, were the following ingredients:—Four hogsheads of brandy, eight hogsheads of water, twenty-five thousand lemons, twenty gallons of lime juice, thirteen hundredweight of fine Lisbon sugar, five pounds of grated nutmegs, three hundred toasted biscuits, and lastly, a pipe of dry mountain Malaga. Over the fountain was erected a large canopy to keep off the rain, and in a little boat, built for the purpose, a boy belonging to the fleet rowed round the basin, and served this cordial beverage to the company. More than six thousand men partook of this mighty bowl.