Part 5
"From a contempt of the ignorant virtuosi of the age," says Mr. _Walpole_, "and from indignation at the impudent tricks of picture-dealers, whom he saw continually recommending and vending vile copies to bubble collectors, and from having never studied, indeed having seen, few good pictures of the great _Italian_ masters, he persuaded himself that the praises bestowed on those glorious works were nothing but the effects of prejudice. He talked this language till he believed it; and having heard it often asserted, as is true, that time gives a mellowness to colours and improves them, he not only denied the proposition, but maintained that pictures only grew black and worse by age, not distinguishing between the degrees in which the proportion might be true or false. He went farther: he determined to rival the ancients--and unfortunately chose one of the finest pictures in _England_ as the object of his competition. This was the celebrated _Sigismunda_ of Sir _Luke Schaub_, now in the possession of the Duke of _Newcastle_, said to be painted by _Correggio_, probably by _Furino_, but no matter by whom. It is impossible to see the picture, or read _Dryden's_ inimitable tale, and not feel that the same soul animated both. After many essays, _Hogarth_ at last produced HIS _Sigismunda_--but no more like _Sigismunda_, than I to _Hercules_. Not to mention the wretchedness of the colouring, it was the representation of a maudlin strumpet just turned out of keeping, and, with eyes red with rage and usquebaugh, tearing off the ornaments her keeper had given her. To add to the disgust raised by such vulgar expression, her fingers were bloodied by her lover's heart,[53] that lay before her, like that of a sheep, for her dinner.[54] None of the sober grief, no dignity of suppressed anguish, no involuntary tear, no settled meditation on the fate she meant to meet, no amorous warmth turned holy by despair; in short, all was wanting that should have been there, all was there that such a story would have banished from a mind capable of conceiving such complicated woe; woe so sternly felt, and yet so tenderly. _Hogarth's_ performance was more ridiculous than any thing he had ever ridiculed. He set the price of 400 _l._ on it, and had it returned on his hands by the person for whom it was painted. He took subscriptions for a plate of it; but had the sense, at last, to suppress it. I make no more apology for this account than for the encomiums I have bestowed on him. Both are dictated by truth, and are the history of a great man's excellencies and errors. _Milton_, it is said, preferred his _Paradise Regained_ to his immortal poem."[55]
_Hogarth_, however, gave directions before his death that the _Sigismunda_ should not be sold under 500 _l._ and, greatly as he might have been mortified by _Churchill's_ invective, and the coldness with which the picture was received by the rest of the world,[56] he never wholly abandoned his design of having a plate prepared from it. Finding abundant consolation in the flattery of self-love, he appealed from the public judgement to his own, and had actually talked with the celebrated Mr. _Hall_ about the price of the engraving, which was to have been executed from a smaller painting,[57] copied by himself from the large one. Death alone secured him from the contempt such obstinacy would have riveted on his name. To express a sorrow like that of _Tancred's_ daughter, few modern artists are fully qualified. We must except indeed Sir _Joshua Reynolds_, with whose pencil Beauty in all her forms, and the passions in all their varieties, are equally familiar.
Since the preceding paragraph was written, the compiler of this volume has seen an unfinished plate of _Sigismunda_, attempted after the manner of _Edelinck_, etched by Mr. _Basire_, but not bit-in, and from which consequently no proof can have been taken. The size of the plate is 18 inches by 16½. The outlines in general, and particularly of the face, were completed under the immediate direction of Mr. _Hogarth_.[58] It was intended to be published by subscription.[59] The plate itself is still in the hands of Mr. _Basire_.
This unfortunate picture, which was the source of so much vexation to Mr. _Hogarth_, at least made a versifier of him, and furnished vent to his anger in the following lines; which, as I know of no other specimen of his poetry,[60] may serve to gratify the curiosity of the reader. The old adage _facit indignatio versum_, seems scarcely to have been realised in this splenetic effusion, which is intituled "An Epistle to a Friend," occasioned by Sir _Richard Grosvenor_ (now lord) returning the picture of _Sigismunda_ on our artist's hands:
"To your charge, the other day About my picture and my pay, In metre I've a mind to try, One word by way of a reply.
"To risque, you'll own, 'twas most absurd, Such labour on a rich man's word; To lose at least an hundred days Of certain gain, for doubtful praise; Since living artists ne'er were paid; But then, you know, it was agreed, I should be deem'd an artist dead. Like _Raphael, Rubens, Guido Rene,_ This promise fairly drew me in; And having laid my pencil by,[61] What painter was more dead than I? But dead as _Guido_ let me be, Then judge, my friend, 'twixt him and me If merit crowns alike the piece, What treason to be like in price; Because no copied line you trace, The picture can't be right, you're sure; But say, my critic connoisseur, Moves it the heart as much or more Than picture ever did before? This is the painter's truest test, And this Sir _Richard's_ self confess'd. Nay, 'tis so moving, that the knight Can't even bear it in his sight; Then who would tears so dearly buy, As give four hundred pounds to cry? I own, he chose the prudent part, Rather to break his word than heart; And yet, methinks, 'tis ticklish dealing, With one so delicate--in feeling.
"However, let the picture rust, Perhaps time's price-enhancing dust, As statues moulder into earth, When I'm no more, may mark its worth; And future connoisseurs may rise, Honest as ours, and full as wise, To puff the piece and painter too, And make me then what _Guido's_ now."
"The last memorable event in our artist's life," as Mr. _Walpole_ observes, "was his quarrel with Mr. _Wilkes_, in which, if Mr. _Hogarth_ did not commence direct hostilities on the latter, he at least obliquely gave the first offence, by an attack on the friends and party of that gentleman. This conduct was the more surprizing, as he had all his life avoided dipping his pencil in political contests, and had early refused a very lucrative offer that was made to engage him in a set of prints against the head of a court-party. Without entering into the merits of the cause, I shall only state the fact. In _September_ 1762, Mr. _Hogarth_ published his print of _The Times_. It was answered by Mr. _Wilkes_ in a severe _North Briton_.[62] On this the painter exhibited the caricatura of the writer. Mr. _Churchill_, the poet, then engaged in the war, and wrote his epistle to _Hogarth_, not the brightest of his works,[63] in which the severest strokes fell on a defect that the painter had neither caused nor could amend--his age;[64] and which, however, was neither remarkable nor decrepit; much less had it impaired his talents, as appeared by his having composed but six months before one of his most capital works, the satire on the Methodists. In revenge for this epistle, _Hogarth_ caricatured _Churchill_, under the form of a canonical bear, with a club and a pot of porter--_et vitulá tu dignus & hic_--never did two angry men of their abilities throw mud with less dexterity."
The concluding observation of Mr. _Walpole_ is mortifyingly true. It may be amusing to compare the account given of this squabble, which long engrossed the attention of the town, with the narrative of it printed by Mr. _Wilkes_; who states the circumstances of it in the following manner:
"Mr. _Hogarth_ was one of the first who, in the paper war begun by lord _Bute_ on his accession to the Treasury, sacrificed private friendship at the altar of party madness. In 1762, the _Scotch_ minister took a variety of hirelings into his pay, some of whom were gratified with pensions, others with places and pensions. Mr. _Hogarth_ was only made _serjeant-painter_ to his majesty, as if it was meant to insinuate to him, that he was not allowed to paint any thing but the wainscot of the royal apartments. The term means no more than _house-painter_, and the nature of the post confined him to that business. He was not employed in any other way. A circumstance can scarcely be imagined more humiliating to a man of spirit and genius, who really thought that he more particularly excelled in _portrait-painting_.
"The new minister had been attacked in a variety of political papers. _The North Briton_ in particular, which commenced the week after _The Briton_, waged open war with him. Some of the numbers had been ascribed to Mr. _Wilkes_, others to Mr. _Churchill_, and Mr. _Lloyd_. Mr. _Hogarth_ had for several years lived on terms of friendship and intimacy with Mr. _Churchill_ and Mr. _Wilkes_. As the _Buckinghamshire_ militia, which this gentleman had the honour of commanding, had been for some months at _Winchester_ guarding the _French_ prisoners, the Colonel was there on that duty. A friend wrote to him, that Mr. _Hogarth_ intended soon to publish a political print of _The Times_, in which Mr. _Pitt_, Lord _Temple_, Mr. _Churchill_, and himself, were held out to the public as objects of ridicule. Mr. _Wilkes_, on this notice, remonstrated by two of their common friends to Mr. _Hogarth_, that such a proceeding would not only be unfriendly in the highest degree, but extremely injudicious; for such a pencil ought to be universal and moral, to speak to all ages, and to all nations, not to be dipt in the dirt of the faction of a day, of an insignificant part of the country, when it might command the admiration of the whole. An answer was sent, that neither Mr. _Wilkes_ nor Mr. _Churchill_ were attacked in _The Times_, though Lord _Temple_ and Mr. _Pitt_ were, and that the print should soon appear. A second message soon after told Mr. _Hogarth_, that Mr. _Wilkes_ should never believe it worth his while to take notice of any reflections on himself; but if his friends were attacked, he should then think he was wounded in the most sensible part, and would, as well as he was able, revenge their cause; adding, that if he thought the _North Briton_ would insert what he sent, he would make an appeal to the public on the very _Saturday_ following the publication of the print. _The Times_ soon after appeared, and on the _Saturday_ following [_Sept._ 25, 1762,] N° 17, of the _North Briton_, which is a direct attack on the king's _serjeant-painter_.[65] If Mr. _Wilkes_ did write that paper, he kept his word better with Mr. _Hogarth_, than the painter had done with him.
"It is perhaps worth remarking, that the painter proposed to give a series of political prints, and that _The Times_ were marked Plate I. No farther progress was however made in that design. The public beheld the first feeble efforts with execrations, and it is said that the caricaturist was too much hurt by the general opinion of mankind, to possess himself afterwards sufficiently for the execution of such a work.
"When Mr. _Wilkes_ was the second time brought from the _Tower_ to _Westminster-hall_, Mr. _Hogarth_ skulked behind in a corner of the gallery of the Court of _Common Pleas_; and while the Chief Justice _Pratt_,[66] with the eloquence and courage of old _Rome_, was enforcing the great principles of _Magna Charta_, and the _English_ constitution, while every breast from him caught the holy flame of liberty, the painter was wholly employed in caricaturing the _person_ of the man; while all the rest of 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 after by the unanimous sentence of the judges of that court, and they were all present.
"The print of Mr. _Wilkes_ was soon after published, _drawn from the life by William Hogarth_. It must be allowed to be an excellent _compound caricatura_, or a _caricatura_ of what nature had already _caricatured_. I know but one short apology can be made for this gentleman, or, to speak more properly, for the _person_ of Mr. _Wilkes_. It is, that he did not make himself, and that he never was solicitous about the _case_ of his soul, as _Shakspeare_ calls it, only so far as to keep it clean and in health. I never heard that he once hung over the glassy stream, like another _Narcissus_, admiring the image in it, nor that he ever stole an amorous look at his counterfeit in a side mirrour. His form, such as it is, ought to give him no pain, because it is capable of giving pleasure to others. I fancy he finds himself tolerably happy in the _clay-cottage_, to which he is _tenant for life_, because he has learnt to keep it in good order. While the share of health and animal spirits, which heaven has given him, shall hold out, I can scarcely imagine he will be one moment peevish about the _outside_ of so precarious, so temporary a habitation, or will even be brought to own, _ingenium Galbæ male habitat. Monsieur est mal logé._
"Mr. _Churchill_ was exasperated at this _personal_ attack on his friend. He soon after published the Epistle to _William Hogarth_,[67] and took for the motto, _ut pictura poesis_. Mr. _Hogarth's_ revenge against the poet terminated in vamping up an old print of a pug-dog and a bear, which he published under the title of The Bruiser _C. Churchill_ (once the Revd.!) in the character of a _Russian Hercules_, &c."
The Editor of the _Monthly Review_ for _November_, 1769, in an account of Mr. _Wilkes's_ correspondence, remarks, "The writer of this article had in substance the same relation from the mouth of Mr. _Hogarth_ himself, but a very little while before his death;[68] and the leading facts appeared, from his candid representation, in nearly the same light as in this account which our readers have been just perusing."
I have been assured by the friend[69] who first carried and read the invective of _Churchill_ to _Hogarth_, that he seemed quite insensible to the most sarcastical parts of it. He was so thoroughly wounded before by the _North Briton_, especially with regard to what related to domestic happiness, that he lay no where open to a fresh stroke. Some readers, however, may entertain a doubt on this subject. A man feels most exquisitely when the merit of which he is proudest is denied him; and it might be urged, that _Hogarth_ was more solicitous to maintain the character of a good painter, than of a tender husband.
One quotation, however, from _Churchill's_ Epistle the warmest admirers of our matchless artist must be pleased with:
"In walks of humour, in that cast of style, Which, probing to the quick, yet makes us smile; In Comedy, his natural road to fame, Nor let me call it by a meaner name, Where a beginning, middle, and an end, Are aptly join'd; where parts on parts depend, Each made for each, as bodies for their soul, So as to form one true and perfect whole, Where a plain story to the eye is told, Which we conceive the moment we behold;[70] _Hogarth_ unrival'd stands, and shall engage Unrival'd praise to the most distant age."
_Hogarth_ having been said to be in his dotage when, he produced his print of the Bear, it should seem as if he had been provoked to make the following additions to this print, in order to give a further specimen of his still existing genius.
In the form of a framed picture on the painter's palette, he has represented an _Egyptian_ pyramid, on the side of which is a _Cheshire_ cheese,[71] and round it 3000 _l. per annum_; and at the foot a _Roman_ Veteran in a reclining posture, designed as an allusion to Mr. _Pitt's_ resignation. The cheese is meant to allude to a former speech of his, wherein he said that he would rather subsist a week on a _Cheshire_ cheese and a shoulder of mutton, than submit to the implacable enemies of his country.
But to ridicule this character still more, he is, as he lies down, firing a piece of ordnance at the standard of _Britain_, on which is a dove with an olive-branch, the emblem of peace. On one side of the pyramid is the City of _London_, represented by the figure of one of the _Guildhall_ giants, going to crown the reclining hero. On the other side is the king of _Prussia_, in the character of one of the _Cæsars_, but smoking his pipe. In the center stands _Hogarth_ himself, whipping a Dancing Bear (_Churchill_) which he holds in a string. At the side of the Bear is a Monkey, designed for Mr. _Wilkes_. Between the legs of the little animal is a mop-stick, on which he seems to ride, as children do on a hobby-horse: at the top of the mop-stick is the cap of liberty. The Monkey is undergoing the same discipline as the Bear. Behind the Monkey is the figure of a man, but with no lineaments of face, and playing on a fiddle. This was designed for Earl _Temple_.
At the time these hostilities were carrying on in a manner so virulent and disgraceful to all the parties, _Hogarth_ was visibly declining in his health. In 1762, he complained of an inward pain, which, continuing, brought on a general decay that proved incurable.[72] This last year of his life he employed in retouching his plates with the assistance of several engravers whom he took with him to _Chiswick_. On the 25th of _October_, 1764, he was conveyed from thence to _Leicester-fields_, in a very weak condition, yet remarkably chearful; and, receiving an agreeable letter from the _American_ Dr. _Franklin_, drew up a rough draught of an answer to it; but going to bed, he was seized with a vomiting, upon which he rung his bell with such violence that he broke it, and expired about two hours afterwards in the arms of Mrs. _Mary Lewis_, who was called up on his being taken suddenly ill. To this lady, for her faithful services, he bequeathed 100 _l._ After the death of _Hogarth's_ sister, Mrs. _Lewis_ succeeded to the care of his prints; and, without violation of truth, it may be observed, that her good nature and affability recommend these performances which she continues to dispose of at Mrs. _Hogarth's_ house in _Leicester-square_. Before our artist went to bed, he boasted of having eaten a pound of beef-steaks for his dinner,[73] and was to all appearance heartier than he had been for a long time before. His disorder was an aneurism; and his corpse was interred in the church-yard at _Chiswick_, where a monument is erected to his memory, with this inscription, under his family arms:
"Here lieth the body Of _William Hogarth_, Esq. Who died _October_ the 26th, 1764; Aged 67 years."
On another side, which is ornamented with a masque, a laurel wreath, a palette, pencils, and a book, inscribed "Analysis of Beauty," are the following verses by his friend Mr. _Garrick_:
"Farewell, great painter of mankind, Who reach'd the noblest point of art; Whose pictur'd morals charm the mind, And through the eye correct the heart. If _genius_ fire thee, reader, stay, If _nature_ touch thee, drop a tear; If neither move thee, turn away, For _Hogarth's_ honoured dust lies here."
On a third side is this inscription:
"Here lieth the body Of Dame _Judith Thornhill_, Relict of Sir _James Thornhill_, knight, Of _Thornhill_ in the county of _Dorset_. She died _November_ the 12th, 1757, Aged 84 years."
And on the fourth side:
"Here lieth the body Of Mrs. _Anne Hogarth_, sister to _William Hogarth_, Esq. She died _August_ the 13th, 1771, Aged 70 years."
Mr. _Hayley_, in his justly admired _Epistle to an Eminent Painter_ (Mr. _Romney_), has since expressed himself concerning our artist in terms that confer yet higher honours on his comic excellence:
"Nor, if her favour'd hand may hope to shed The flowers of glory o'er the skilful dead, Thy talents, _Hogarth!_ will she leave unsung; Charm of all eyes, and Theme of every tongue! A separate province 'twas thy praise to rule; Self-form'd thy Pencil! yet thy works a School, Where strongly painted, in gradations nice, The Pomp of Folly, and the Shame of Vice, Reach'd thro' the laughing Eye the mended Mind, And moral Humour sportive Art refin'd. While fleeting Manners, as minutely shown As the clear prospect on the mirror thrown; While Truth of Character, exactly hit, And drest in all the dyes of comic wit; While these, in _Fielding's_ page, delights supply, So long thy Pencil with his Pen shall vie. Science with grief beheld thy drooping age Fall the sad victim of a Poet's rage: But Wit's vindictive spleen, that mocks controul, Nature's high tax on luxury of soul! This, both in Bards and Painters, Fame forgives Their Frailty's buried, but their Genius lives."
Thus far the encomiast, who seeks only for opportunities of bestowing praise. A more impartial narrative will be expected from the biographer.
It may be truly observed of _Hogarth_, that all his powers of delighting were restrained to his pencil.[74] Having rarely been admitted into polite circles, none of his sharp corners had been rubbed off, so that he continued to the last a gross uncultivated man. The slightest contradiction transported him into rage. To be member of a Club consisting of mechanics, or those not many removes above them, seems to have been the utmost of his social ambition; but even in these assemblies he was oftener sent to _Coventry_ for misbehaviour, than any other person who frequented them. To some confidence in himself he was certainly entitled; for, as a comic painter, he could have claimed no honour that would not most readily have been allowed him;[75] but he was at once unprincipled and variable in his political conduct and attachments. He is also said to have beheld the rising eminence and popularity of Sir _Joshua Reynolds_ with a degree of envy; and, if I am not misinformed, frequently spoke with asperity both of him and his performances. Justice, however, obliges me to add, that our artist was liberal, hospitable, and the most punctual of pay-masters; so that, in spite of the emoluments his works had procured to him, he left but an inconsiderable fortune to his widow. His plates indeed are such resources as may not speedily be exhausted. Some of his domestics had lived many years in his service, a circumstance that always reflects credit on a master. Of most of these he painted strong likenesses on a canvas still in Mrs. _Hogarth's_ possession.
His widow has also a portrait of her husband, and an excellent bust of him by _Roubilliac_, a strong resemblance; and one of his brother-in-law Mr. _Thornhill_, much resembling the countenance of Mrs. _Hogarth_. Several of his portraits also remain in her possession: _viz._ a finished portrait of Mrs. _Mary Lewis_; _Thomas Coombes_ of _Dorsetshire_, aged 108; Lady _Thornhill_; Mrs. _Hogarth_ herself, &c. &c.