Chapter VI: Appendix: Criticism on Hogarth’s Marriage A-La-Mode

_The Criticism on Hogarth’s ‘Marriage a-la-Mode,’ referred to in the
account of Mr. Angerstein’s pictures (page 15), is as follows_:—

The superiority of the pictures of Hogarth, which we have seen in the late collection at the British Institution, to the common prints, is confined chiefly to the _Marriage a-la-Mode_. We shall attempt to illustrate a few of their most striking excellences, more particularly with reference to the expression of character. Their merits are indeed so prominent, and have been so often discussed, that it may be thought difficult to point out any new beauties; but they contain so much truth of nature, they present the objects to the eye under so many aspects and bearings, admit of so many constructions, and are so pregnant with meaning, that the subject is in a manner inexhaustible.

Boccaccio, the most refined and sentimental of all the novel-writers, has been stigmatized as a mere inventor of licentious tales, because readers in general have only seized on those things in his works which were suited to their own taste, and have reflected their own grossness back upon the writer. So it has happened that the majority of critics having been most struck with the strong and decided expression in Hogarth, the extreme delicacy and subtle gradations of character in his pictures have almost entirely escaped them. In the first picture of the _Marriage a-la-Mode_, the three figures of the young Nobleman, his intended Bride, and her innamorato the Lawyer, shew how much Hogarth excelled in the power of giving soft and effeminate expression. They have, however, been less noticed than the other figures, which tell a plainer story, and convey a more palpable moral. Nothing can be more finely managed than the differences of character in these delicate personages. The Beau sits smiling at the looking-glass, with a reflected simper of self-admiration, and a languishing inclination of the head, while the rest of his body is perked up on his high heels, with a certain air of tiptoe elevation. He is the Narcissus of the reign of George II., whose powdered peruke, ruffles, gold lace, and patches, divide his self-love equally with his own person, the true Sir Plume of his day,—

——‘Of amber snuff-box justly vain,
And the nice conduct of a clouded cane.’

There is the same felicity in the figure and attitude of the Bride, courted by the Lawyer. There is the utmost flexibility, and yielding softness in her whole person, a listless languor and tremulous suspense in the expression of her face. It is the precise look and air which Pope has given to his favourite Belinda, just at the moment of the Rape of the Lock. The heightened glow, the forward intelligence, and loosened soul of love in the same face, in the Assignation-scene before the masquerade, form a fine and instructive contrast to the delicacy, timidity, and coy reluctance expressed in the first. The Lawyer, in both pictures, is much the same—perhaps too much so—though even this unmoved, unaltered appearance may be designed as characteristic. In both cases, he has ‘a person and a smooth dispose, framed to make women false.’ He is full of that easy good-humour, and easy good opinion of himself, with which the sex are delighted. There is not a sharp angle in his face to obstruct his success, or give a hint of doubt or difficulty. His whole aspect is round and rosy, lively and unmeaning, happy without the least expense of thought, careless, and inviting; and conveys a perfect idea of the uninterrupted glide and pleasing murmur of the soft periods that flow from his tongue.

The expression of the Bride in the Morning-scene is the most highly seasoned, and at the same time the most vulgar in the series. The figure, face, and attitude of the Husband are inimitable. Hogarth has with great skill contrasted the pale countenance of the Husband with the yellow whitish colour of the marble chimney-piece behind him, in such a manner as to preserve the fleshy tone of the former. The airy splendour of the view of the inner room in this picture, is probably not exceeded by any of the productions of the Flemish school.

The Young Girl, in the third picture, who is represented as a victim of fashionable profligacy, is unquestionably one of the artist’s _chef-d’œuvres_. The exquisite delicacy of the painting is only surpassed by the felicity and subtlety of the conception. Nothing can be more striking than the contrast between the extreme softness of her person and the hardened indifference of her character. The vacant stillness, the docility to vice, the premature suppression of youthful sensibility, the doll-like mechanism of the whole figure, which seems to have no other feeling but a sickly sense of pain,—shew the deepest insight into human nature, and into the effects of those refinements in depravity, by which it has been good-naturedly asserted, that ‘vice loses half its evil in losing all its grossness.’ The story of this picture is in some parts very obscure and enigmatical. It is certain that the Nobleman is not looking straight forward to the Quack, whom he seems to have been threatening with his cane; but that his eyes are turned up with an ironical leer of triumph to the Procuress. The commanding attitude and size of this woman,—the swelling circumference of her dress, spread out like a turkey-cock’s feathers,—the fierce, ungovernable, inveterate malignity of her countenance, which hardly needs the comment of the clasp-knife to explain her purpose, are all admirable in themselves, and still more so, as they are opposed to the mute insensibility, the elegant negligence of dress, and the childish figure of the girl, who is supposed to be her _protegée_. As for the Quack, there can be no doubt entertained about him. His face seems as if it were composed of salve, and his features exhibit all the chaos and confusion of the most gross, ignorant, and impudent empiricism.

The gradations of ridiculous affectation in the Music-scene, are finely imagined and preserved. The preposterous, overstrained admiration of the Lady of Quality; the sentimental, insipid, patient, delight of the Man with his hair in papers, and sipping his tea; the pert, smirking, conceited, half-distorted approbation of the figure next to him; the transition to the total insensibility of the round face in profile, and then to the wonder of the Negro-boy at the rapture of his mistress,—form a perfect whole. The sanguine complexion and flame-coloured hair of the female Virtuoso throw an additional light on the character. This is lost in the print. The continuing the red colour of the hair into the back of the chair, has been pointed out as one of those instances of alliteration in colouring, of which these pictures are everywhere full. The gross, bloated appearance of the Italian Singer is well relieved by the hard features of the instrumental Performer behind him, which might be carved of wood. The Negro-boy, holding the chocolate, in expression, colour, and execution, is a master-piece. The gay, lively derision of the other Negro-boy, playing with the Actæon, is an ingenious contrast to the profound amazement of the first. Some account has already been given of the two lovers in this picture. It is curious to observe the infinite activity of mind which the artist displays on every occasion. An instance occurs in the present picture. He has so contrived the papers in the hair of the Bride, as to make them look almost like a wreathe of half-blown flowers; while those which he has placed on the head of the musical Amateur very much resemble a _cheveux-de-fris_ of horns, which adorn and fortify the lacklustre expression and mild resignation of the face beneath.

The Night-scene is inferior to the rest of the series. The attitude of the Husband, who is just killed, is one in which it would be impossible for him to stand, or even to fall. It resembles the loose pasteboard figures they make for children. The characters in the last picture, in which the Wife dies, are all masterly. We would particularly refer to the captious, petulant self-sufficiency of the Apothecary, whose face and figure are constructed on exact physiognomical principles, and to the fine example of passive obedience and non-resistance in the Servant, whom he is taking to task, and whose coat of green and yellow livery is as long and melancholy as his face. The disconsolate look, the haggard eyes, the open mouth, the comb sticking in the hair, the broken, gapped teeth, which, as it were, hitch in an answer—every thing about him denotes the utmost perplexity and dismay. The harmony and gradations of colour in this picture are uniformly preserved with the greatest nicety, and are well worthy the attention of the artist.

It has been observed, that Hogarth’s pictures are exceedingly unlike any other representations of the same kind of subjects—that they form a class, and have a character, peculiar to themselves. It may be worth while to consider in what this general distinction consists.

In the first place they are, in the strictest sense, historical pictures; and if what Fielding says be true, that his novel of Tom Jones ought to be regarded as an epic prose-poem, because it contained a regular developement of fable, manners, character, and passion, the compositions of Hogarth will, in like manner be found to have a higher claim to the title of Epic Pictures, than many which have of late arrogated that denomination to themselves. When we say that Hogarth treated his subjects historically, we mean that his works represent the manners and humours of mankind in action, and their characters by varying expression. Every thing in his pictures has life and motion in it. Not only does the business of the scene never stand still, but every feature and muscle is put into full play; the exact feeling of the moment is brought out, and carried to its utmost height, and then instantly seized and stamped on the canvas forever. The expression is always taken _en passant_, in a state of progress or change, and, as it were, at the salient point. Besides the excellence of each individual face, the reflection of the expression from face to face, the contrast and struggle of particular motives and feelings in the different actors in the scene, as of anger, contempt, laughter, compassion, are conveyed in the happiest and most lively manner. His figures are not like the background on which they are painted: even the pictures on the wall have a peculiar look of their own.—Again, with the rapidity, variety, and scope of history, Hogarth’s heads have all the reality and correctness of portraits. He gives the extremes of character and expression, but he gives them with perfect truth and accuracy. This is in fact what distinguishes his compositions from all others of the same kind, that they are equally remote from caricature and from mere still-life. It of course happens in subjects from common life, that the painter can procure real models, and he can get them to sit as long as he pleases. Hence, in general, those attitudes and expressions have been chosen which could be assumed the longest; and in imitating which, the artist, by taking pains and time, might produce almost as complete a fac-simile as he could of a flower or a flower-pot, of a damask curtain, or a china vase. The copy was as perfect and as uninteresting in the one case as in the other. On the contrary, subjects of drollery and ridicule affording frequent examples of strange deformity and peculiarity of features, these have been eagerly seized by another class of artists, who, without subjecting themselves to the laborious drudgery of the Dutch school and their imitators, have produced our popular caricatures, by rudely copying or exaggerating the casual irregularities of the human countenance. Hogarth has equally avoided the faults of both these styles—the insipid tameness of the one, and the gross vulgarity of the other—so as to give to the productions of his pencil equal solidity and effect: for his faces go to the very verge of caricature, and yet never (we believe in any single instance) go beyond it; they take the very widest latitude, and yet we always see the links which bind them to nature: they bear all the marks, and carry all the conviction of reality with them, as if we had seen the actual faces for the first time, from the precision, consistency, and good sense, with which the whole and every part is made out. They exhibit the most uncommon features with the most uncommon expressions, but which are yet as familiar and intelligible as possible; because, with all the boldness, they have all the truth of nature. Hogarth has left behind him as many of these memorable faces, in their memorable moments, as, perhaps, most of us remember in the course of our lives; and has thus doubled the quantity of our observation.

We have, in the present paper, attempted to point out the fund of observation, physical and moral, contained in one set of these pictures, the _Marriage a-la-Mode_. The rest would furnish as many topics to descant upon, were the patience of the reader as inexhaustible as the painter’s invention. But as this is not the case, we shall content ourselves with barely referring to some of those figures in the other pictures, which appear the most striking; and which we see, not only while we are looking at them, but which we have before us at all other times.—For instance: who, having seen, can easily forget that exquisite frost-piece of religion and morality, the antiquated prude, in the picture of _Morning_? or that striking commentary on the _good old times_, the little wretched appendage of a foot-boy, who crawls, half famished and half frozen, behind her? The French man and woman, in the _Noon_, are the perfection of flighty affectation and studied grimace; the amiable _fraternization_ of the two old women saluting each other, is not enough to be admired; and in the little master, in the same national group, we see the early promise and personification of that eternal principle of wondrous self-complacency, proof against all circumstances, which makes the French the only people who are vain, even of being cuckolded and being conquered! Or shall we prefer to this, the outrageous distress and unmitigated terrors of the boy who has dropped his dish of meat, and who seems red all over with shame and vexation, and bursting with the noise he makes? Or what can be better than the good housewifery of the girl underneath, who is devouring the lucky fragments? Or than the plump, ripe, florid, luscious look of the servant-wench, embraced by a greasy rascal of an Othello, with her pye-dish tottering like her virtue, and with the most precious part of its contents running over? Just—no, not quite—as good, is the joke of the woman over head, who, having quarrelled with her husband, is throwing their Sunday’s dinner out of the window, to complete this chapter of accidents of baked dishes. The husband, in the _Evening_ scene, is certainly as meek as any recorded in history; but we cannot say that we admire this picture, or the _Night_ scene after it. But then in the _Taste in High Life_, there is that inimitable pair, differing only in sex, congratulating and delighting one another by ‘all the mutually reflected charities’ of folly and affectation; with the young lady, coloured like a rose, dandling her little, black, pug-faced, white-teethed, chuckling favourite; and with the portrait of Mons. Des Noyers, in the background, dancing in a grand ballet, surrounded by butterflies. And again, in _The Election Dinner_, is the immortal cobbler, surrounded by his peers, who ‘frequent and full,’—

‘In _loud_ recess and _brawling_ conclave sit:’—

the Jew, in the second picture, a very Jew in grain—innumerable fine sketches of heads in the _Polling for Votes_, of which the nobleman, overlooking the caricaturist, is the best;—and then the irresistible, tumultuous display of broad humour in the _Chairing the Member_, which is, perhaps, of all Hogarth’s pictures, the most full of laughable incidents and situations. The yellow, rusty-faced thresher, with his swinging flail, breaking the head of one of the chairmen; and his redoubted antagonist, the sailor, with his oak stick, and stumping wooden leg, a supplemental cudgel—the persevering ecstasy of the hobbling blind fiddler, who, in the fray, appears to have been trod upon by the artificial excrescence of the honest tar—Monsieur, the Monkey, with piteous aspect, speculating the impending disaster of the triumphant candidate; and his brother Bruin, appropriating the paunch—the precipitous flight of the pigs, souse over head into the water—the fine lady fainting, with vermilion lips—and the two chimney sweepers, satirical young rogues! We had almost forgot the politician, who is burning a hole through his hat with a candle, in reading a newspaper; and the chickens, in _The March to Finchley_, wandering in search of their lost dam, who is found in the pocket of the serjeant. Of the pictures in _The Rake’s Progress_ we shall not here say any thing, because we think them, on the whole, inferior to the prints; and because they have already been criticised by a writer, to whom we could add nothing, in a paper which ought to be read by every lover of Hogarth and of English genius.[11]

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Footnote 1:

We like this picture of a Concert the best of the three by Titian in
the same room. The other two are a Ganymede, and a Venus and Adonis;
the last does not appear to us from the hand of Titian.

Footnote 2:

The Reader, if he pleases, may turn to an Essay on this subject in the
_Round Table_.

Footnote 3:

Two thirds of the principal pictures in the Orleans Collection are at
present at Cleveland-House, one third purchased by the Marquis of
Stafford, and another third left by the Duke of Bridgewater, another
of the purchasers Mr. Brian had the remaining third.

Footnote 4:

‘Aut Erasmus aut Diabolus.’ Sir Thomas More’s exclamation on meeting
with the philosopher of Rotterdam.

Footnote 5:

The late Mr. Curran described John Kemble’s eye in these words.

Footnote 6:

It is said in the catalogue to be painted on touch-stone.

Footnote 7:

Written in February, 1823.

Footnote 8:

We heard it well said the other day, that ‘Rubens’s pictures were the
palette of Titian.’

Footnote 9:

This is not absolutely true. Mr. Banks the younger, and another young
gentleman, formed an exception to this rule, and contrived to get into
the Abbey-grounds, in spite of warning, just as the recluse proprietor
happened to be passing by the spot. Instead, however, of manifesting
any displeasure, he gave them a most polite reception, shewed them
whatever they expressed a wish to see, asked them to dinner, and after
passing the day in the greatest conviviality, dismissed them by
saying, ‘That they might get out as they got in.’ This was certainly a
good jest. Our youthful adventurers on forbidden ground, in the midst
of their festive security, might have expected some such shrewd turn
from the antithetical genius of the author of Vathek, who makes his
hero, in a paroxysm of impatience, call out for ‘the Koran and
_sugar_!’

Footnote 10:

From the New Monthly Magazine.

Footnote 11:

See an Essay on the Genius of Hogarth, by C. Lamb.

NOTES OF A JOURNEY THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

_Notes of a Journey through France and Italy, By W. Hazlitt_, was published in 1826, in an 8vo. volume (9 × 5¼ inches). Printed for Hunt and Clarke, Tavistock-Street, Covent-Garden. The printer’s name is given behind the title-page as ‘William Clowes, Northumberland-court,’ and the following lines from _Cymbeline_ (Act III. 4.) appear underneath the author’s name on the title-page:—

‘I’ the world’s volume
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it;
In a great pool, a swan’s nest. Prithee think
There’s livers out of Britain.’

As stated in the ADVERTISEMENT, the _Notes_ were reprinted from the _Morning Chronicle_, to which they had been contributed in 1824 and 1825. They are now reprinted for the first time since the publication of the volume of 1826, and as they appeared in that volume. A few passages which appeared in the papers as they came out in the _Morning Chronicle_, and were omitted when Hazlitt collected the letters in book-form, will be found among the notes at the end of the volume.

ADVERTISEMENT

The following _Notes of a Journey through France and Italy_ are reprinted from the columns of the _Morning Chronicle_. The favourable reception they met with there suggested the idea of the present work. My object has been to describe what I saw or remarked myself; or to give the reader some notion of what he might expect to find in travelling the same road. There is little of history or antiquities or statistics; nor do I regret the want of them, as it may be abundantly supplied from other sources. The only thing I could have wished to expatiate upon more at large is the _manners_ of the country: but to do justice to this, a greater length of time and a more intimate acquaintance with society and the language would be necessary. Perhaps, at some future opportunity, this defect may be remedied.

CONTENTS

PAGE

CHAPTER I.—Rules for travelling abroad. Brighton. Crossing the 89
Channel. Dieppe. Remarks on the French common People

CHAPTER II.—Normandy. Appearance of the Country. Rouen. The 94
Cathedral there. The sense of Smell

CHAPTER III.—The Road from Rouen to Paris. A Mistake. Evreux. A 100
young Frenchman. A _trait_ of national Politeness. Louviers. The
Diligence, and the Company in it. Lord Byron and Mr. Moore

CHAPTER IV.—The Louvre 106

CHAPTER V.—Gravity of the French. Their Behaviour at the Theatre. 113
Account of going to a Play. Minute attention paid to the Arts
and Sciences in France. Sir T. Lawrence. Horace Vernet

CHAPTER VI.—Dialogue on the Exhibition of Modern French Pictures 122

CHAPTER VII.—The Luxembourg Gallery 129

CHAPTER VIII.—National Antipathies. Cemetery of _Père la Chaise_ 138

CHAPTER IX.—Mademoiselle Mars. The _Théatre Français_. Molière’s 147
_Misanthrope_ and _Tartuffe_. Admirable manner of casting a Play
in Paris. French Actors, Le Peintre, Odry, and Potier. Talma and
Mademoiselle Georges

CHAPTER X.—Description of Paris. The Garden of the Tuileries. The 155
_Champ de Mars_. The _Jardin des Plantes_. Reflections

CHAPTER XI.—French Sculpture. Note on the Elgin Marbles 162

CHAPTER XII.—The French Opera. Dido and Æneas. Madame Le Gallois 169
in the Ballet. Italian Opera or _Salle Louvois_. Mombelli and
Pellegrini in the _Gazza Ladra_. Allusion to Brunet

CHAPTER XIII.—Leave Paris for Lyons. Adventures on the Road. 175
Fontainbleau. Montargis. Girl at the Inn there. A French
Diligence. Moulins. Palisseau. The Bourbonnois. Descent into
Tarare. Meeting with a young Englishman there. Arrival at Lyons.
Manners of French Servants. French Translation of Tom Jones. M.
Martine’s _Death of Socrates_

CHAPTER XIV.—Set out for Turin by Way of Mont Cenis. The Cheats of 183
Scapin. The Diligence. Pont Beau Voisin, the frontier Town of
the King of Sardinia’s Dominions. Have to pass the Custom House.
My Box of Books _leaded_. A Note which is little to the Purpose.
First View of the Alps. The Grand Chartreuse. Cavern of La
Grotte. Chambery. St. Michelle. Lans-le-Bourg. Our Spanish
fellow-traveller. Passage of Mount Cenis. Arrival at Susa

CHAPTER XV.—Turin. Its magnificent Situation. The Effect of first 195
feeling one’s-self in Italy. Theatre. Capital Pantomime-acting.
Passports. Get seats in a Voiture to Florence, with two English
Ladies. Mode of travelling. Italian Peasants. Parma. Windows
lined with Faces. Maria-Louisa. Character of Correggio. Frescoes
by the same in the Cupola of St. Paul’s. The Farnese Theatre.
Bologna. Academy of Painting. Towns in Italy

CHAPTER XVI.—Road to Florence. The Apennines. Covigliaijo. La 207
Maschere. Approach to and Description of Florence. Carnival.
Lent. The Popish Calendar. Fesole. Cold in Italy

CHAPTER XVII.—The public Gallery. Antique Busts. The Venus. 219
Raphael’s Fornarina. The Perseus of Benvenuto Cellini. John of
Bologna’s Rape of the Sabines. The Palace Pitti

CHAPTER XVIII.—Sienna. Radicofani. Aquapendente. Description of 227
the Inn there. San Lorenzo. Monte-Fiascone. Lake of Bolsena.
Desolate Appearance of the Country near Rome. First View of St.
Peter’s from Baccano

CHAPTER XIX.—Rome. The Vatican. The Capella Sistina. Holy Week. 232
The Coliseum. The Temple of Vesta. Picture Galleries—the
Ruspigliosi, Doria, Borghese, Corsini, and Little Farnese. Guido

CHAPTER XX.—Character of the English 241

CHAPTER XXI.—Return to Florence. Italian Banditti. Terni. Tivoli. 253
Spoleto. Church and Pictures at Assizi. Perugia. An Irish
Priest. Cortona. Arrezo. Incisa

CHAPTER XXII.—Journey to Venice. Plain of Lombardy. A country Inn. 263
Ferrara. Rovigo. Padua. Description of Venice

CHAPTER XXIII.—Palaces at Venice—the Grimani, Barberigo, and 268
Manfrini Collections. Paul Veronese. Titian’s St. Peter Martyr.
The Assumption and Martyrdom of St. Lawrence. St. Mark’s Place

CHAPTER XXIV.—Journey to Milan. Verona. The Tomb of Juliet. The 275
Amphitheatre. The Fortress of Peschiera. Lake of Garda. Milan.
The Inhabitants. The Duomo. Theatre of the Gran Scala. Isola
Bella. Lago Maggiore. Baveno

CHAPTER XXV.—The passage over the Simplon. Inn at Brigg. Valley of 281
the Simplon. Sion. Bex. Vevey

CHAPTER XXVI.—Excursion to Chamouni. Mont-Blanc. Geneva. Lausanne 288

CHAPTER XXVII.—Return down the Rhine through Holland. Concluding 295
remarks

NOTES OF A JOURNEY
THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY