Chapter V: Part 5

A globe, which must here be considered as the world, though it appears to be no more than a tavern sign, is represented on fire, and Mr. Pitt, exalted on stilts, which are held by the surrounding multitude, blowing up the flames with a pair of large bellows.[135] His attendants are composed of butchers, with marrow-bones and cleavers, an hallooing mob armed with clubs, and a trio of London aldermen in the act of adoration. From the neck of this idol of the populace is suspended a millstone, on which is inscribed £3000 per annum, allusive to his pension, and intimating that so ponderous a load must in time sink his popularity.[136] While he is thus increasing the conflagration, a number of Highlanders,[137] grenadiers, sailors, etc., are busily working a fire-engine to extinguish it. The pipe is guided by a Union Office fireman at the top. Defended by an iron cap, and decorated with a badge inscribed "G. R.," this intrepid engineer pays no regard to three streams of water which are furiously driven at his rear from the windows of the Temple Coffeehouse. The Liliputian engines, through which these tiny showers descend, are directed by a nobleman and two garretteers. An inscription over the door determines the title of the former, who is delineated without features: the two gentlemen in the attic were, I believe, originally intended for Mr. Wilkes and Mr. Churchill, but previous to publication the faces were altered.[138] A surplice is still left on the figure over Lord Temple, and the Colonel's coat is lapelled. Upon a sign-iron beneath them is a slaughterman,[139] with a lighted candle in his hat, and a large knife in his pocket; thus intimating that he is ready either to fire a city or murder a citizen. Mounted to the situation he now occupies by a ladder, he is drawing up a sign of the Patriot's Arms, and in this good work is assisted by two strong-sinewed coadjutors, who are dragging the ropes to which it is suspended. The blazonry is four clenched fists in opposition to each other; the date, 1762.[140] This curious delineation will be placed in the front of the Temple Coffeehouse, for _the world to wonder at_. The Newcastle Arms, nearly broken down, bears allusion to the Duke's resignation.[141] A Highlander, carrying two buckets of water from the fire-plug to the engine, is likely to be impeded by a fellow with a wheelbarrow full of political papers, which are intended to feed the flames. This type of the distressed poet, said to be intended as a representative of the Duke of Newcastle, endeavours to overset the Scot, and burst the engine-pipe by the same operation.

Wholly engrossed by avarice, the crafty Dutchman, with a hand in each pocket and a pipe in his mouth, sits on his bales of goods, and laughs at the destruction raging around him. A fox, fair emblem of his cunning, is creeping out of a kennel beneath.

Close to him is a patriotic trumpeter, blowing the spirit-stirring tube, and pointing to a show-cloth, on which is painted a wild Indian. By the magisterial robe in which this trumpeter is arrayed, and the city arms on the banner of his windy instrument, he is decisively intended to personify Mr. Alderman Beckford, thrice Lord Mayor of London. Beneath the savage to whom he points, is written, "Alive from America." This grotesque figure is placed before two tobacco hogsheads, grasps in each hand a purse inscribed "£1000," and has tied round him, so as to form a sort of Indian dress, eight or ten little bags equally well filled. His countenance leads us to judge that he delights in the devastation by which he is a gainer; and seems to imply that our American brethren, like our Amsterdam allies, were eager to furnish friend or foe with the product of their respective countries. It may further intimate the Alderman's immense riches, and that a leading article of his trade was tobacco.

A table clock, inscribed "Airs by Harrington," representing a company of soldiers in a regular march, has an evident allusion to the military doctrine of man being a machine. "The Norfolk jig, G. T. _fecit_," hints at the Norfolk Militia, and Mr. George Townshend, who paid unremitting attention to the discipline and appearance of the corps raised in Norfolk.

"The Post Office," painted on a cracked board fastened against the wall, may possibly signify the office of Postmaster-General being then divided.[142]

In the opposite corner of the print, surrounded by his miserable and famished subjects, sits the heroic Frederick of Prussia. Regardless of their distress, and unmoved by their cries, tears, and execrations--like Nero, who fiddled while Rome burnt--he is lost to every feeling, except those which arise from the fine tones of his Cremona. The effects resulting from his insatiable thirst of glory are not confined to his own subjects. Fired by vaulting ambition, he scatters destruction through surrounding states; depopulates provinces, and lays waste kingdoms, to prove himself--a philosopher.

How far the rest of the figures in this group may refer to particular persons or nations, I cannot determine. The female, with clasped hands and eyes raised to heaven, has been supposed to be intended for the Empress Queen; a venerable matron, stealing away with a trunk under her arm, for the late Empress of Russia, Frederick's most inveterate enemy, who ended her earthly reign on the 2d of January 1762. They may be so intended, though I must acknowledge I do not discover anything which will wholly establish the supposition, but am more inclined to consider them as merely exemplifying the horrors of war.

The _fleur-de-lis_ hung from one of the houses in flames, and the black eagle from the other, sufficiently indicate the powers intended to be pointed out. The sign of the Salutation alludes to the treaty between France and Spain, for the dexter figure is Louis Baboon; and the sinister, Lord Strut.

The flames rage with so much violence as to prevent the fluttering dove from alighting on any of the buildings; notwithstanding which, this bird of peace, with an olive branch, hovers over them in the midst of ascending smoke.

The exact point of time is determined by the waggon, inscribed "Hermione," in the background.[143]

Such is my general idea of the preceding plate;[144] there may be those who will discover many things which I do not see, and which possibly never entered into the contemplation of the artist. As the whole alludes to the politics of his own day, all the characters introduced were his contemporaries, and several of them had been his intimate friends, he might intentionally leave some parts obscure;[145] or conceiving his meaning sufficiently obvious to those who lived at the time, forget that it would become impervious to posterity.

I have before observed that in allegory he was not happy; and the dissimilar combinations here brought together are a proof of the assertion. Soldiers and sailors, whose business it is to increase the flames of war, carrying water to extinguish them, is not quite consonant to our general ideas of their dispositions. Highlanders, being universally considered as the soldiers of Europe, make but an awkward appearance in the character of peacemakers.

A sign of the globe on fire, flames bursting out of the Globe Tavern and three other buildings, with each an alehouse sign, to explain what nations are meant, borders upon the bathos. Another nation personified by the sovereign fiddling to his expiring subjects, is not a bad thought, but here it is incongruous. It has not that general unison with the other parts of the picture which either writing or painting demands. Separated from the accompaniments, this group might have made a good print; with the Globe Tavern, the Temple Coffeehouse, the garretteers, and the aldermen, it does not assimilate.

My last remark I shall take the liberty of borrowing from Mr. Wilkes, for in this one point I have the honour of agreeing with him: "The print is too much crowded with figures."

PLATE II.

"The Times are out of joint."

A painter engaging in the political disputes of his day, is in a situation similar to a gentleman beginning to rebuild a family mansion. The pencil of one, dipped in these troubled streams, or the fingers of the other but touch-brick and mortar,--it is not in the tables of De Moivre to calculate the conclusion of their labours. Each of them sets out upon a certain plan, determines that he will go so far, and no further: but the gentleman is induced to make a first addition to his original plan, because it will be more convenient; a second, because it will be _magnifique_; and a third and fourth _must be_, because without them the building will not be uniform.

The artist engraves a political print, which raises an host of enemies, who buzz about him like a nest of disturbed hornets. To them, wording not being the painter's province, he replies by a second print, which produces a second volume of abuse; "another and another still succeeds," and he must either sink under this load of obloquy, or devote the residue of his days to the defence of his character. Such at least was the political progress of Hogarth.

By his first print of "The Times" he roused two very formidable adversaries, and they treated him with as much ceremony as two deputies from the Bow Street magistrates would an incendiary or an assassin. They did not consider him as a man whose conduct it was needful to investigate, or whose opinions it was necessary to confute, but as a criminal, whose aggravated crimes had outraged every law of society, and whom they would therefore drag to the place of execution. To defend himself from these furious assailants, he had no shield but a copperplate, no weapons but a pencil and a burin. The use he made of them may be seen in the two last prints; but though this was engraved during the time of the contest, it was not published while he lived. Whether a sudden change in politics, a supposed ambiguity in part of his design, or the advice of judicious or timid friends, induced him to suppress his work, cannot now be ascertained; but whatever were the reasons, his widow's respect for his memory induced her to adopt the same conduct. She retained a reverence for even the dust of her husband, and dreaded its being raked from the sepulchre where he had been quietly inurned, mixed with the poisonous aconite of party, and by sacrilegious hands cast into the agitated cauldron of politics. If we add to this the specimen of political candour which she had experienced in her own person, can we wonder that she cautiously avoided whatever could be tortured into a provocation to the renewal of hostilities? From these considerations she never suffered more than one impression to be taken, and that was struck off at the earnest request of Lord Exeter.

In withholding this plate from the public she acted prudently; in attempting to describe it, I may be thought to act otherwise. To enter into a discrimination of characters who now live, "or step upon ashes which are not yet cold," is liable to invidious construction. Let it be remembered, that though I have endeavoured to point out the characters delineated by Hogarth, it does not follow that my explanation will always be right.

Though several of the figures are marked in a style so obtrusive that they cannot be mistaken, there are others where I can only guess at the originals. From those who were engaged in the politics of that day I have sought information, but their communications have been neither important nor consistent with each other. They generally ended in an acknowledgment, that "in thirty years they had forgotten much which they once knew, and which, if now recollected, would materially elucidate." To this was added what I am compelled to admit, that parts of the print are obscure. I have before observed that neither politics nor allegory were Hogarth's _forte_, and this delineation was made under the impression of resentment.

The exact time of its being engraved I cannot positively ascertain, but conjecture it must have been some time in the year 1762. A small part of the sky was left unfinished, and in that state still remains, as the present proprietors would not suffer any other engraver to draw a line on the copperplate of Hogarth.

On a pedestal in the centre of the print is a statue of the present King in his coronation robes, inscribed "A Ramsay delt;" his right hand is placed on his side, and the left leans upon a plummet, which seems to have been Mr. Ramsay's guide in the delineation; for the drapery is in squares, decided as the ground glass stopper of a decanter, and the whole figure is composed of straight lines. Of these upright figures Hogarth had given his opinion in the _Analysis_;[146] and Mr. Ramsay being portrait-painter to his Majesty, a post Hogarth thought himself better qualified to fill, he took this opportunity of throwing his manner into ridicule.[147] The head of a lion in _bas relief_ with a leaden pipe in his mouth,[148] being on the front of the pedestal, intimates its connection with a reservoir; and the royal statue on the top denotes this to be the fountain of honour. The able-bodied figure turning a fire-plug is evidently intended for Lord Bute; his employment seems to intimate that he has the power of accelerating or retarding the stream of royal bounty, and wheresoever he willeth it shall flow, there it floweth. A baronial escutcheon, keys, stars, coronets, croziers, mitres, maces, lie close to the pedestal, around which are placed a number of garden pots with shrubs. Two rose trees most plentifully sprinkled by streams from the fountain of favour have been originally inscribed "James III.;" but James being now blotted out, George is put above it, and by a little hyphen beneath the lowest figure, marked as belonging to the lowest line. Three orange trees have the initials "G. R.," and beneath the letters is inscribed "Republican." These also receive drops of favour; but a large laurel planted in a capacious vase, raised upon the base of a pillar, and inscribed "Culloden," is watered by the dew of heaven,--by a copious shower poured from the urn of Aquarius. Besides these six flourishing plants, there are a number of yew and box trees, clipped into true taste by a Dutch gardener. Some of them retain their old situations, but an active labourer is busily clearing the grounds of all these ancient formalities. Many of them he has already wheeled out of their places, and thrown into the ditch that surrounds the platform, into which situation he is now tumbling two venerable box trees of a most orderly and regular cut: each of them having the letters G. R., may apply to the favourites either of George the First or Second. This I suppose is meant to express, by an allegorical figure, the great number of old place-men who resigned on the accession of his present Majesty.

The late Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland, being at that time a leading character in the House of Commons, and deemed the partisan of Lord Bute, is here represented as removing these antiquated plants from the vivifying hothouse of royalty to the cold and dank ditch of despair. Hogarth, not thinking a sable countenance and ebon eyebrows would sufficiently indicate the person meant, has given the outline of a fox's head to his cap. In his reforming business he is somewhat impeded by a garden roller, on which is written "£1,000,000,000," meaning possibly the national debt. On the platform lies a broom, shovel, and rake, necessary implements in clearing gardens; and in the surrounding _fosse_ such a collection of fantastic _nevergreens_, as decked the pleasure-grounds of our ancient sovereigns, "trimm'd with nice art," and cut into the shapes of pyramids, fortifications, globes, and birds. On one of them, clipped into the form of a human head, is a mask, well expressing the taste of our ancestors.

It is observable that Lord Bute and Mr. Henry Fox are the only persons on the platform: one of these gentlemen was, I believe, supposed to have the highest confidence of his sovereign; and the other, a most powerful influence over the people's representatives.

A group in the dexter corner is principally made up of members of the Upper House. A senatorial figure in the chair under the king's arms is intended for Sir John Cust, then Speaker. That beneath him, wiping his forehead, evidently from perturbation of mind, for William Duke of Cumberland. Below him is Lord Mansfield, and still lower Lord Temple, presenting his snuff-box to his Grace of Newcastle, who had a short time before joined the opposition. We also recognise Earl Winchelsea, and George Doddington, afterwards Lord Melcombe.

Who are intended to be hinted at by a number of persons asleep, I do not know: it, however, proves that there were at that period men who were not to be kept awake by the most important interests of their country. Had this print borne relation to the orators of 1790 instead of the speakers of 1762, there would have been no cause for astonishment. Considering the hour at which our present race of senators meet to do business, and that one oration frequently lasts from the twilight of evening to the crowing of the cock, could it excite wonder if half the assembly were under the dominion of Somnus before what one of our fashionable prints so familiarly calls the peroration?

On the other side of a rail, intended, I believe, to divide the Commons from the Lords, are a number of figures firing at the emblem of Peace, which is fluttering in the air near the signs of the zodiac. Mr. Pitt we are enabled to identify, not only by his features, but by his gouty legs. His gun has much the longest barrel, and while he fires it off he prudently turns away his face, fearing a flash in the pan may scorch his eyebrows; or perhaps acting as a waterman, looking one way and rowing another. A figure behind him discharges a blunderbuss; and in the sinister hand of one immediately before him is a horse-pistol. The household artillery of all the band (and from the smoke which is diffused over the centre of the group it appears they are numerous) is directed to the same object. One prudent personage, a little before Mr. Pitt, seems to be in the act of desertion; for though yet seated on the gunpowder bench, he has got his head under the rail, and is half on the other side. This may be pointed at one of that class who go under the denomination of Trimmers, or may intimate that the gentleman is in the way of getting a place or a peerage; but what is his name, or was his future title, I am not enough read in the red book[149] to determine. The next figure resembles Henry Bilson Legge. A hand with an ear-trumpet may perhaps allude to Lord Chesterfield, whose deafness was at this period proverbial. Two figures above him are distinguished, one by a muff, and the other by a pair of spectacles; "to whom related, or by whom begot," baffles my conjecture: the lowest figure has a resemblance to the first Lord Holland, but _he_ is exhibited on the platform. A dog immediately behind Lord Bute, having his eye fixed on the urn of Aquarius, I suppose to be barking at the shower which pours on the laurel inscribed "Culloden." He is a Caledonian cur, and on his collar is written the word "Mercy," allusive, perhaps, to the cruelties said to have been exercised in Scotland in 1745, which accounts for the natives of that country thinking the Duke had more liberal rewards and more distinguished honours than he fairly merited.

Thus much must suffice for the dignified personages who then drove the state machine: to regret that I cannot point out more of the characters would be useless. I am not deeply studied in the political history of that day; to those who are, must be delegated the task of more particular explanation.

The two most distinguished persons in the opposite group are exalted to the pillory. Over a figure of Fanny the Phantom, who is dressed in a white sheet, the engraver has written "Conspiracy." In one hand she holds a small hammer, and in the other a lighted taper, with which she sets fire to a _North Briton_ that is fastened on the breast of Esquire Wilkes, above whose head is written "Defamation." The patriot is depicted with a most rueful countenance and empty pockets. On the steps below are such a company as we generally see assembled on these great occasions. Two Highlanders, one of whom is grasping a purse, and with most significant grin pointing to the _profane cheeld_ who had dared to abuse his clan, and reprinted Howell's _Description of Scotland_:[150] by his belt and lapels he appears to be military, and is perhaps meant for Colonel Martin. Close to him is a Liliputian chimney-sweeper, and a fellow blowing a cow's horn with force that gives a Boreas-like distension to his cheeks.[151] This resounding clangour is softened by the cheering notes of the sweet-sounding violin, while the growling bagpipe gives a thorough bass to the whole. Still further to keep up the spirits of the company, a woman is retailing gin from a keg inscribed with the two initials "J. W.," and a schoolboy amusing himself, _à la Teniers_, with Mr. Wilkes' shoes. To complete his degradation, the Bishop's Abigail so skilfully trundles her well-soaked mop, that he enjoys the full benefit of her mud-coloured drops.

The group behind is partly made up of British sailors and soldiers, each of whom exhibit a most melancholy spectacle of the fortune of war. One lion-hearted veteran, having had both legs and arms lopped off in the service of his country, has his oak-like trunk borne to the borders of the platform upon a porter's knot,[152] where, with three other disabled warriors, he waits in the hope of catching a few drops from the fountain of honour; but alas! the stream which ascends from a fire-plug behind the gate falls on the heads of a mob who are in the background. Some of these may possibly be cripples, for a crutch as well as several bludgeons is flourished in the air. At a window, over which is painted "Dr. Cant's," and "Man Midwife," a bishop is confirming two adults by the imposition of hands. Whether by this representation the artist intended to hint that this father of the church confirmed them in their political errors, the reader must determine according to his political creed; but thus far we may venture to decide, Doctor Thomas Seeker, then Archbishop of Canterbury, was the person intended to be delineated. At the rooms where the Society for Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce then met, a number of persons, by the help of a crane, are dragging up a large silver palette, on which is written "Premium." The man instructing the workmen is, I believe, intended for Mr. Peter Templeman, then Secretary to the Society; as one of the figures in the first floor is probably Lord Romney, then their President.

Behind this we discover the New Church in the Strand; and on the opposite side a triumphal column; a structure with the word "Hospital" inscribed on the front, and a scaffolding, with workmen completing a very large new building. These, I apprehend, Hogarth intended as descriptive of the great things which were to be undertaken and carried on during the reign of a monarch who gloried in the name of Briton. That the workmen and scaffolding bear allusion to those extensive and ponderous premises now known by the name of Somerset Place, there can be little doubt: the artist, with an eye of prophetic anticipation, has placed his scaffolding nearly on the spot where the building now stands;[153] and conscious of the time it must take to pile up such a quantity of stone, has not represented it built, but building.

The figure of Lord Bute is a strong likeness, and in the turn of head very similar to Ramsay's portrait which Mr. Ryland engraved. Pointing out the first Lord Holland by making the outline of his cap in the form of a fox's head, is a whimsical idea. Even the sculptured lion's shaggy front has strong markings. He is by no means pleased with the distribution of those honours that he is made a party in bestowing, but goes through his business with a very wry face. To the poor maimed sailors and soldiers, Callot could not have given much more spirit. Though upon so small a scale, they have all the hardihood of their order; and both in them and the elevated party[154] on the opposite side, variety and distinction of character is accurately and nicely discriminated.

JOHN WILKES, ESQ.

_Drawn from the Life, and etched in aquafortis, by William
Hogarth. Published according to Act of Parliament, May 16, 1763._

"Enough of Patriots,--all I ask of man
Is only to be honest as he can.
Some have deceiv'd, and some may still deceive,
'Tis the fool's curse at random to believe.
Would those who, by opinion plac'd on high,
Stand fair and perfect in their country's eye,
Maintain that honour,--let me in their ear
Hint this essential doctrine--PERSEVERE."

--CHURCHILL.

The bitter satire upon Hogarth's domestic habits, talents, taste, originality, and orthography, which has been before noticed, would have discomposed a less irritable man, and warranted any retaliation in the power of the pencil; but he seems to have felt little uneasiness, and under a conviction that the overcharged blunderbuss which had been aimed at him had burst in the explosion and wounded his assailant more than himself, did not think it necessary to point fire-arms at an adversary whose intemperate zeal had defeated his avowed purpose. Under the influence of these impressions, the artist has not attempted to be severe; nor can I comprehend upon what ground this plate has been denominated a satire, for it is not a caricature, but a very accurate and striking resemblance, with the identical accompaniments which I most firmly believe Mr. Wilkes would at that time have chosen as the decorations of his portrait. The cap of liberty, "Heaven-descended, godlike liberty," above his head, and two political papers which he acknowledged himself to have written, on his right hand. One of these papers is marked with that memorable number, which was in its day a kind of shibboleth to the party.[156] On the same table with the two _North Britons_ is a pen and ink, importing that the person delineated is an author, a character the Colonel could hardly be ashamed of. These premises granted to the artist,--and

"The very head and front of his offending
Hath this extent, no more,"--

what crime has he committed? He has given an engraving, which cannot indeed be considered as a compliment, because it is not a flattering likeness; but I do not see why it should have been received as a sarcasm. If we add to this the time when, and place where, it was taken; if we consider how glorious the situation!--how interesting the moment!--it is delineating a general at the instant of victory; and so far from bearing any marks of satire, that it might be almost mistaken for a panegyric. To say the truth, though his friend Churchill has thrown the picture into shadow, and given only the dark tints, Mr. Wilkes seemed willing enough to receive it as such;[157] and I am informed, frequently told his friends that he every day grew into a stronger resemblance. The pleasant and philosophic indifference with which he spoke of it at the time, did honour to his good humour and his good sense. He declared himself very little concerned about the case of his soul, as he was only tenant for life, and that the best apology for his person was, that he did not make himself.[158]

Such was the style of Mr. Wilkes. As to Mr. Churchill, his temper must have forsaken him; and every circumstance taken into the account, when describing this transaction, he seems to have forgotten that satire ought to be at least seasoned with truth. Brilliant diction, animated verse, and high-sounding words, are very apt to impose. Churchill's is a muse of fire, and dazzles the eye like the sun in its meridian splendour; it fascinates the mind, and carries the most sober reason into the airy regions of imagination. This considered, before I insert his bitter satire, it will be but fair to give a candid and dispassionate relation of that which provoked it.

When Mr. Wilkes was the second time brought from the Tower to Westminster Hall, and had in one day an honourable acquittal, an universal acclamation, and a proud triumph, Mr. Hogarth attended in the court of Common Pleas, and, as was his constant custom, carried a port-crayon in his pocket. Surrounded by a crowd of spectators, who came to see how the cause would terminate, he took a portrait of Mr. Wilkes: delineated a patriot at the moment when he was in his own person asserting the cause of liberty, and by his own trial ascertaining the law of his country. But, replies an advocate for Mr. Wilkes, "Hogarth certainly intended to make a caricature."[159] To this I have no other answer than pointing to the print, which, being compared with the original, will prove to every dispassionate inquirer what it is my wish to establish, _i.e._ that it has been mistaken for a caricature, from the world knowing the provocation which Hogarth had previously received, and which every man felt would have justified the most severe retaliation.

What! Consider it as a satire to hand down to posterity a patriot at the moment of inspiration! "While every breast caught the holy flame of liberty, and all his fellow-citizens were animated in his cause, for they knew it to be their own cause, that of their country, and of its laws. It was declared to be so a few hours afterwards by the unanimous sentence of the Judges of that Court; and they were all present."

From the style in which the bard relates this transaction, a plain reader would be tempted to think that Hogarth had stolen into Westminster Hall with a quiver full of poisoned arrows hung to his girdle, and, like a murderous ruffian, hid himself behind the arras, that he might seize the first opportunity of assassinating this paragon of patriotism.

"When Wilkes, our countryman, our common friend,
Arose, his king, his country to defend;
When tools of power he bar'd to public view,
And from their holes the sneaking cowards drew;
When Rancour found it far beyond her reach,
To soil his honour, and his truth impeach,--
What could induce thee, at a time and place
Where manly foes had blush'd to show their face,
To make that effort which must damn thy name,
And sink thee deep, deep in the grave with shame!
Did Virtue move thee? no, 'twas pride, rank pride,
And if thou hadst not done it, thou hadst died.
Malice (who, disappointed of her end,
Whether to work the bane of foe or friend,
Preys on herself, and driven to the stake,
Gives virtue that revenge she scorns to take)
Had killed thee, tottering on life's utmost verge,
Had Wilkes and Liberty escaped thy scourge.
"When that great charter which our fathers bought
With their best blood, was into question brought;
When big with ruin, o'er each English head,
Vile Slavery hung suspended by a thread;
When Liberty, all trembling and aghast,
Fear'd for the future, knowing what was past;
When every breast was chill'd with deep despair,
Till reason pointed out that PRATT was there.
Lurking most ruffian-like behind a screen,
So plac'd all things to see, himself unseen,
Virtue with due contempt saw[160] Hogarth stand,
The murderous pencil in his palsied hand.
What was the cause of Liberty to him,
Or what was Honour! let them sink or swim,
So he may gratify without control,
The mean resentments of his selfish soul,
Let Freedom perish, if, to Freedom true,
In the same ruin Wilkes may perish too."

This animated and high-coloured rhapsody, beautiful and fervid as it is, when reduced to plain prose, ends in Liberty, Virtue, and Honour being all aghast, because Hogarth took Mr. Wilkes' portrait without the customary fee! But my readers may be weary of the subject. Enough--

"Enough of Wilkes,--to good and honest men
His actions speak much stronger than my pen."

--CHURCHILL.

THE BRUISER, CHARLES CHURCHILL (ONCE THE REVEREND),

_In the Character of a Russian Hercules, regaling himself after
having killed the Monster Caricatura, that so sorely galled his
virtuous friend, the heaven-born Wilkes.--Published Aug. 1, 1763._

"But he had a club,
This dragon to drub,
Or he had ne'er don't, I warrant ye."

--_Dragon of Wantley._

Enraged by the publication of Mr. Wilkes' portrait, Mr. Charles Churchill drew his gray goose quill, and wrote a most virulent and vindictive satire, which he entitled _An Epistle to William Hogarth_. The painter might be a very good Christian, but he was not blest with that meek forbearance which induces those who are smote on one cheek to turn the other also. He was an old man, but did not wish to be considered as that feeble, superannuated, helpless animal which the poet had described. He scarcely wished to live

"After his flame lack'd oil, to be the snuff
Of younger spirits."

Apprehensive that the public might construe his delaying a reply to proceed from inability, he did not wait the tedious process of a new plate, but took a piece of copper on which he had, in the year 1749, engraven a portrait of himself and dog, erased his own head, and in the place of it introduced the divine with a tattered band and torn ruffles,--"No Lord's anointed, but a Russian bear."

In this I must acknowledge there was more ill-nature than wit.[161] It is rather caricature than character, and more like the coarse mangling of Tom Browne than the delicate yet wounding satire of Alexander Pope. For this rough retort he might, however, plead the poet's precedent. His opponent had brandished a tomahawk; and Hogarth, old as he was, wielded a battle-axe in his own defence. A more aggravated provocation cannot well be conceived. The attack was unmerciful, unmanly, unjust. Let the following extracts speak for themselves:--

"Amongst the sons of men, how few are known
Who dare be just to merit not their own!
Superior virtue and superior sense,
To knaves and fools will always give offence:
Nay, men of real worth can scarcely bear--
So nice is jealousy--a rival there."

Such is the introduction to Churchill's Epistle, and I believe the reader will grant that it is quite as applicable to the poet as the painter. After some lines which would apply to any other subject as well as that under consideration, he thus proceeds:

"Hogarth,--I take thee, Candour, at thy word,
Accept thy proffer'd terms, and will be heard;
Thee have I heard with virulence declaim,
Nothing retained of Candour but the name;
By thee have I been charg'd in angry strains,[162]
With that mean falsehood which my soul disdains."

How furious the onset! but if the lines are brought back to plain prose, they will run thus: "Hogarth, thy word is candour. I adopt the same word, and having heard _thee_ declaim with a virulence that retained nothing of candour but the name, thou shalt hear me declaim in the same style."

That this is the precise meaning which the poet intended, I will not presume to assert; but that he has pursued his theme in a manner that amply justifies my supposition, the following lines will abundantly prove:--

"Hogarth, stand forth,--nay, hang not thus aloof,
Now Candour, now thou shalt receive such proof,
Such damning proof, that henceforth thou shalt fear
To tax my wrath, and own my conduct clear.
Hogarth, stand forth,--I dare thee to be try'd
In that great court where Conscience must preside:
At that most solemn bar hold up thy hand;
Think before whom, on what account you stand.
Speak, but consider well--from first to last
Review thy life, view every action past:
Nay, you shall have no reason to complain,--
Take longer time, and view them o'er again:
Canst thou remember from thy earliest youth,--
And as thy God must judge thee, speak the truth,--
A single instance where, self laid aside,
And justice taking place of fear and pride,
Thou with an equal eye didst genius view,
And give to merit what was merit's due?
Genius and merit are a sure offence,
And thy soul sickens at the name of sense."

If Hogarth had so marked an aversion to all genius, merit, and sense, it is rather singular that he should have lived on such intimate terms with Mr. Churchill and Mr. Wilkes.

"Is any one so foolish to succeed?
On Envy's altar he is doomed to bleed.
Hogarth, a guilty pleasure in his eyes,
The place of executioner supplies:
See how he gloats, enjoys the sacred feast,
And proves himself by cruelty a priest."

What does the bard prove himself?

"Whilst the weak artist to thy whims a slave,
Would bury all those powers which nature gave,
Would suffer blank concealment to obscure
Those rays that jealousy could not endure;
To feed thy vanity would rust unknown,
And to secure thy credit, blast his own:
In Hogarth he was sure to find a friend;
He could not fear, and therefore might commend.
But when his spirit, rous'd by honest shame,
Shook off that lethargy, and soar'd to fame;
When with the pride of man resolv'd and strong,
He scorn'd those fears which did his honour wrong;
And on himself determin'd to rely,
Brought forth his labours to the public eye,
No friend in thee could such a rebel know,
He had desert, and Hogarth was his foe."

He must be a very weak artist indeed who would bury the talents which Nature gave, to gratify the whims of another man; but admitting a painter had been found "who suffered blank concealment to obscure those rays which jealousy could not endure," I cannot comprehend how it concerned Hogarth. His walk was all his own: even now he need not dread a rival there. Mr. Churchill acknowledges that in walks of humour

"Hogarth unrivall'd stands, and shall engage
Unrivall'd praise to the most distant age!"

Being unrivalled, I do not see why he should dread a rival; nor can I conceive he could be jealous of talents which he must be conscious were inferior to his own.

After some very harsh lines on envy, in no degree applicable to Hogarth, and the rhapsody about Wilkes and Liberty, which I have noticed in the preceding plate, this high priest of the Temple of Cruelty, rejoicing in his strength and triumphing in the pride of his youth, without any reverence for gray hairs or respect for superior talents, sets up the war-whoop, and springs upon a feeble old man with the ferocity of a hungry cannibal:

"With all the symptoms of assur'd decay,
With age and sickness pinch'd and worn away,
Pale quivering lips, lank cheeks, and faltering tongue,
The spirits out of tune, the nerves unstrung,
The body shrivell'd up, the dim eyes sunk
Within their sockets deep; the weak hams shrunk,
The body's weight unable to sustain,
The stream of life scarce trembling through the vein:
More than half kill'd by honest truths which fell,
Through thy own fault, from men who wish'd thee well;
Canst thou e'en thus thy thoughts to vengeance give,
And dead to all things else, to malice live?
Hence, dotard, to thy closet; shut thee in,
By deep repentance wash away thy sin;
From haunts of men, to shame and sorrow fly,
And on the verge of death learn how to die."

That a man in the vigour of life--for Churchill was not much more than thirty years old--should draw so pitiable a picture of age and decrepitude, and then attack that age and decrepitude with a barbarity so savage, is horrible! But the baleful spirit of party overthrows the barriers of truth, eradicates philanthropy, and severs those social, I had almost said sacred, bonds which ought to unite and attach men of genius to each other. Had Churchill felt his own beautiful apostrophe, he would have blotted the lines with his tears:

"Ah! let not youth to insolence allied,
In heat of blood, in full career of pride,
Possessed of genius, with unhallowed rage,
Mock the infirmities of reverend age.
The greatest genius to this fate may bow."

--_Churchill's Epistle to Hogarth._

After advising the painter to learn how to die, the bard proceeds; repeats and amplifies what he had before written on Hogarth's envy, gives a metrical version of that _North Briton_ which ridicules the artist's love of flattery, and beautifully versifies Mr. Wilkes' prosaic abuse of poor "Sigismunda."

In the lines which follow, he first throws the gauntlet, and then draws such a picture of the man he has challenged as must have subdued the rancour of an assassin; so far from being a stimulus to revenge, it excites pity, and concludes in the form of an apology:

"For me, who, warm and zealous for my friend,
In spite of railing thousands, will commend;
And no less warm and zealous 'gainst my foes,
Spite of commending thousands will oppose;
I dare thy worst, with scorn behold thy rage,
But with an eye of pity view thy age;
Thy feeble age, in which as in a glass
We see how men to dissolution pass.
Thou wretched being, whom on reason's plan,
So chang'd, so lost, I cannot call a man,
What could persuade thee at this time of life
To launch afresh into this sea of strife?
Better for thee, scarce crawling on the earth,
Almost as much a child as at thy birth,
To have resign'd in peace thy parting breath,
And sunk unnotic'd in the arms of death.
Why would thy gray, gray hairs resentment brave,
Thus to go down with sorrow to the grave?
Now by my soul it makes me blush to know
My spirits could descend to such a foe.
Whatever cause thy vengeance might provoke,
It seems rank cowardice to give the stroke."

Seems, Churchill!--nay, it is!

The following address to the artist may, with infinitely more propriety, be applied to the bard; whose name I have therefore ventured to insert in the place where he has left the name of Hogarth:

"With so much merit, and so much success,
With so much power to curse, so much to bless,
Would he have been man's friend instead of foe,
Churchill had been a little god below.
Why, then, like savage giants fam'd of old,
Of whom in Scripture story we are told,
Dost thou in cruelty that strength employ,
Which Nature meant to save, not to destroy?
Why dost thou, all in horrid pomp array'd,
Sit grinning o'er the ruins thou hast made?
Most rank ill-nature must applaud thy art,
But even Candour must condemn thy heart."

--_Epistle to Hogarth._

The whole of this unfeeling composition is dictated by the same spirit, and written in much the same style, as the lines I have quoted; it reflects more dishonour on the satirist than on the subject of his abuse.

To enumerate further examples would be painful as well as tedious: the _graven image_ must be attended to.

It represents Mr. Churchill in the character of a bear hugging a foaming tankard of porter,[163] and like another Hercules, armed with a knotted club, to attack hydras, destroy dragons, and discomfit giants!

From the two letters "N. B." inscribed on the club, it appears that the painter considered Churchill as a writer in the _North Briton_; and from the words "infamous fallacy, Lie the 1st, 2d, 3d, 4th," etc., on each of the knots, that he also considered him as a poet who did not pay the strictest regard to truth.

To designate more positively the object of his ridicule, and render this rude representative still more ludicrous, it is decorated with a band and a pair of ruffles; and with these characteristic ornaments, though it remains a good bear, it becomes a sort of overcharged portrait of the reverend satirist, and I really think resembles him.

Hogarth's favourite dog Trump, who had been his companion in the portrait from which this is altered, retains his original situation on the outside of the picture frame, but is now contemptuously treating and trampling upon the Epistle to his master. Near him lie two books, on one of which is written, "_A New Way to Pay Old Debts_, a comedy, by Massinger:" on the other, "_A List of Subscribers to the North Briton_." To intimate the poverty of those who wrote it, the pyramid is crowned by a begging-box; and beneath, as emblems of art, lie a pencil and palette.

In this state the print was published; but the gentleman whom it offended asserting that it proved the painter in his dotage, he refuted their calumny by the following spirited addition:--

In the form of a framed picture on the painter's palette, is placed a small drawing, which may serve as a sort of political postscript to his first plate of "The Times," or a kind of prelude to the second. It represents Mr. Pitt reclining in a similar position to that of Sir Isaac Newton in Westminster Abbey, and is probably meant as allusive to his having retired from public business, to enjoy the _otium cum dignitate_, a short time before. The background is composed of a pyramidical piece of marble, from the top of which is suspended a millstone, inscribed "£3000," in allusion to his saying that "Hanover was a millstone round the neck of England," and afterwards increasing the public burdens by accepting a pension of £3000 a year. It is suspended by a thread, and must, if it falls, dash him to pieces. This was Hogarth's idea of crushing popularity. To heighten the ridicule, though recumbent, he is firing a mortar at the symbol of peace, "a dove with an olive branch" perched on the standard of England; but his artillery is not powerful enough to reach the mark; the powder fails in its effect, the ball falls short of its object. In most of his measures Mr. Pitt was supported by the city of London, and to this our great metropolis Hogarth appears to allude, in making the two Guildhall giants, with each of them a pipe of tobacco in his mouth, supporters of the Monument. The tubes with Indian weed evidently hint at his great Creolian friend, Mr. Alderman Beckford. To denote that Mr. Pitt was the sovereign of their affections, and kept the master-key of their iron chests, one of these representatives of the city is giving him supreme rule, by placing upon his head "the likeness of a kingly crown." The other holds a shield, on which is emblazoned the arms of Austria, which the statesman indignantly spurns. At an opposite corner, the painter has exhibited himself, in the humble character of a showman, drilling Messrs. Churchill and Wilkes through the varying steps of a political minuet. The first he has represented under the type of a bear in a laced hat, and the last as a monkey astride upon a mop-stick, with the cap of liberty at the top of it. In his left hand he holds a check-string, which being fastened to his two pupils, answers the purpose of a bridle, and in his right brandishes a cat-o'-nine-tails. That the two quadrupeds may dance to some tune, a figure without features, intended as a second delineation of Earl Temple, is playing on the fiddle.[164]

Such is Hogarth's representation; and in the poem of _Independence_, which Churchill published in September 1764, he admirably parries the caricature by a most spirited description of himself. In this he has evidently taken Hogarth's print for his model. Having described a lean, long, lank, and bony figure, designed for a then unpopular nobleman, he thus proceeds:

"Such was the first. The second was a man
Whom Nature built on a quite different plan:
A bear, whom from the moment he was born,
His dam despis'd, and left unlick'd in scorn:
A Babel, which, the power of art outdone,
She could not finish when she had begun:
An utter chaos, out of which no might
But that of God could strike one spark of light.
Broad were his shoulders, and from blade to blade
A H---- might at full length have laid.
Vast were his bones; his muscles twisted strong;
His face was short, but broader than 'twas long.
His features, though by nature they were large,
Contentment had contrived to overcharge,
And bury meaning; save that we might spy
Sense low'ring on the pent-house of his eye,[165]
His arms were two twin oaks; his legs so stout,
That they might bear a mansion-house about.
Nor were they,--look but at his body there,
Design'd by fate a much less weight to bear.
"O'er a brown cassock, which had once been black,
Which hung in tatters on his brawny back,
A sight most strange and awkward to behold,
He threw a covering of blue and gold.
"Just at that time of life when man by rule
The fop laid down, takes up the graver fool,
He started up a fop, and fond of show,
Look'd like another Hercules turn'd beau;
A subject met with only now and then,
Much fitter for the pencil than the pen.
Hogarth would draw him, Envy must allow,
Ev'n to the life,--were Hogarth living now."[166]

In the following letter written to his friend Mr. Wilkes, and dated August 3, 1763, Churchill considers Hogarth as already dead:--

"I take it for granted you have seen Hogarth's print against me.
Was ever anything so contemptible? I think he is fairly _felo
de se_. I think not to let him off in that manner, although I
might safely leave him to your notes.[167] He has broken into
my pale of private life, and set that example of illiberality
which I wished; of that kind of attack which is ungenerous in the
first instance, but justice in return.[168] I intend an elegy
on him, supposing him dead; but *---- *---- tells me, with a
kiss, he will be really dead before it comes out; that I have
already killed him, etc. How sweet is flattery from the woman we
love![169] and how weak is our boasted strength, when opposed to
beauty and good sense with good-nature."

Mr. Churchill died at Boulogne in his thirty-second year, and was in November 1764 buried at Dover: at which place, on a small stone in the old churchyard, formerly belonging to the collegiate Church of St. Martin, is the following inscription:

"Life to the last enjoy'd, here Churchill lies."

APPENDIX,

CONSISTING OF

ENGRAVED HEADPIECES FOR RECEIPTS, ETC.

At the time that Hogarth lived, we were not compelled to have our receipts sanctioned with a royal stamp; but upon the receipts given by Hogarth, there was "the stamp of genius, the broad seal of nature!" Whoever paid a subscription had a written acknowledgment beneath a little print. This invariably abounded in wit, but had seldom any immediate allusion to the series with which it was presented.[170] His great works I consider as giving not only a general mirror of the human mind, but a history of the local and temporary customs of the day when they were published. I have therefore arranged them in the order they were engraved; and thinking that the receipts, or less important prints, would break the chain by which they are in a degree connected, I have reserved the following short memoranda for an appendix:--

BOYS PEEPING AT NATURE.[171]

"Thou, Nature, art my goddess."

This plate was engraved in 1733, and intended as the subscription-ticket to "The Harlot's Progress;" but in the original design Nature was habited in a petticoat, and the boy who now points to a three-quarters portrait was placed before her, and represented as curiously stooping down to examine the fringe. Some of the artist's friends, suggesting that this was too ludicrous an idea for the public, the copper was thrown aside.

In the year 1751, Hogarth etched his burlesque "Paul," as a receipt-ticket to the large "Paul before Felix." In a printed catalogue of his works, dated 1754, I find "Paul before Felix" marked £0, 7s. 6d., and "Paul before Felix, in the manner of Rembrandt," £0, 0s. 0d. Applications for the gratis etching were very frequent; and he found, to his great mortification, that the public were more eager to possess his little print than either of the large ones. To punish their want of taste, he gave away no more, but fixed the price at two-thirds of the sum at which he published the large print.

This alteration of his first plan left the great "Paul" without a ticket. To have given him the "Peeping Boys" in their original state, would have been a species of sacrilege; they were chastened, grouped as they now are, and transferred from the "Harlot" to the "Apostle."