ROAST BEEF AT THE GATE OF CALAIS.

"O the roast beef of Old England," etc.

The thought on which this whimsical and highly characteristic print is founded, originated in Calais, to which place Mr. Hogarth, accompanied by some of his friends, made an excursion in the year 1747.

Extreme partiality for his native country was the leading trait of his character; he seems to have begun his three hours' voyage with a firm determination to be displeased at everything he saw out of Old England. For a meagre powdered figure, hung with tatters, à-la-mode de Paris, to affect the airs of a coxcomb and the importance of a sovereign, is ridiculous enough; but if it makes a man happy, why should he be laughed at? It must blunt the edge of ridicule to see natural hilarity defy depression; and a whole nation laugh, sing, and dance under burdens that would nearly break the firm-knit sinews of a Briton. Such was the picture of France at that period, but it was a picture which our English satirist could not contemplate with common patience. The swarms of grotesque figures who paraded the streets excited his indignation, and drew forth a torrent of coarse abusive ridicule not much to the honour of his liberality. He compared them to Callot's Beggars, Lazarus on the painted cloth, the Prodigal Son, or any other object descriptive of extreme contempt. Against giving way to these effusions of national spleen in the open street he was frequently cautioned, but advice had no effect; he treated admonition with scorn, and considered his monitor unworthy the name of Englishman. These satirical ebullitions were at length checked. Ignorant of the customs of France, and considering the gate of Calais merely as a piece of ancient architecture, he began to make a sketch. This was soon observed; he was seized as a spy, who intended to draw a plan of the fortification, and escorted by a file of musqueteers to M. la Commandant. His sketch-book was examined leaf by leaf, and found to contain drawings that had not the most distant relation to tactics. Notwithstanding this favourable circumstance, the Governor with great politeness assured him, that had not a treaty between the nations been actually signed, he should have been "under the disagreeable necessity of hanging him upon the ramparts:" as it was, he must be permitted the privilege of providing him a few military attendants, who should do themselves the honour of waiting upon him while he resided in the dominions of the Grande Monarque. Two sentinels were then ordered to escort him to his hotel, from whence they conducted him to the vessel; nor did they quit their prisoner until he was a league from shore, when, seizing him by the shoulders, and spinning him round upon the deck, they said he was now at liberty to pursue his voyage without further molestation.

So mortifying an adventure he did not like to hear recited, but has in this print recorded the circumstance which led to it. In one corner he has given a portrait of himself, making the drawing; and to show the moment of arrest, the hand of a serjeant is upon his shoulder.

Mr. Hogarth's friend Forest soon afterwards wrote the following cantata, which contains so whimsical a description of the principal figures, that I make no apology for inserting it:—

THE ROAST BEEF AT THE GATE OF CALAIS.

RECITATIVE.

'Twas at the gate of Calais, Hogarth tells,

Where sad despair and famine always dwells;

A meagre Frenchman, Madame Grandsire's cook,

As home he steer'd, his carcase that way took,

Bending beneath the weight of fam'd sirloin,

On whom he often wished in vain to dine;

Good Father Dominick by chance came by,

With rosy gills, round paunch, and greedy eye;

And when he first beheld the greasy load,

His benediction on it he bestow'd;

And while the solid fat his fingers press'd,

He lick'd his chops, and thus the knight address'd:

AIR.

O rare roast beef, lov'd by all mankind,

Was I but doom'd to have thee,

Well dress'd, and garnish'd to my mind,

And swimming in thy gravy;

Not all thy country's force combined,

Should from my fury save thee!

Renown'd sirloin! ofttimes decreed

The theme of English ballad,

E'en kings on thee have deign'd to feed,

Unknown to Frenchman's palate;

Then how much must thy taste exceed

Soup-meagre, frogs, and salad!

RECITATIVE.

A half-starv'd soldier, shirtless, pale, and lean,

Who such a sight before had never seen,

Like Garrick's frighted Hamlet gaping stood,

And gaz'd with wonder at the British food;

His morning mess forsook the friendly bowl,

And in small streams along the pavement stole;

He heav'd a sigh, which gave his heart relief,

And thus in plaintive tones declar'd his grief:

AIR.

Ah, sacre Dieu! vat do I see yonder,

Dat look so tempting red and vite?

Begar, it is the roast beef from Londre!

O grant to me one letel bite.

But to my guts if you give no heeding,

And cruel fate this boon denies,

In kind compassion to my pleading,

Return, and let me feast mine eyes.

RECITATIVE.

His fellow guard, of right Hibernian clay,

Whose brazen front his country did betray,

From Tyburn's fatal tree had hither fled,

By honest means to get his daily bread:

Soon as the well-known prospect he espy'd,

In blubb'ring accents dolefully he cried:

AIR.

Sweet beef that now causes my stomach to rise,

So taking thy sight is,

My joy, that so light is,

To view thee, by pailfuls runs out of my eyes.

While here I remain my life's not worth a farthing,

Ah! hard-hearted Lewy,

Why did I come to ye?

The gallows, more kind, would have saved me from starving.

RECITATIVE.

Upon the ground hard by poor Sawney sate,

Who fed his nose and scratched his ruddy pate;

But when old England's bulwark he descried,

His dear lov'd mull, alas! was thrown aside.

With lift'd hands he blest his native place,

Then scrubb'd himself, and thus bewailed his case:

AIR.

How hard, O Sawney, is thy lot,

Who was so blithe of late,

To see such meat as can't be got,

When hunger is so great.

O the beef, the bonny bonny beef,

When roasted nice and brown,

I wish I had a slice of thee,

How sweet it would gang down!

Ah, Charley! had'st thou not been seen,

This ne'er had hapt to me;

I would the de'il had pick'd mine e'en

Ere I had gang'd with thee.

O the beef, etc.

RECITATIVE.

But see my muse to England takes her flight,

Where health and plenty cheerfully unite;

Where smiling Freedom guards great George's throne

(And chains, and racks, and tortures are not known),

Whose fame superior bards have often wrote,

An ancient fable give me leave to quote:

AIR.

As once on a time a young frog pert and vain,

Beheld a large ox grazing over the plain,

He boasted his size he could quickly attain.

O the roast beef of Old England,

And O the Old English roast beef!

Then eagerly stretching his weak little frame,

Mamma, who stood by like a knowing old dame,

Cried, 'Son, to attempt it you're greatly to blame.'

O the roast beef, etc.

But deaf to advice, he for glory did thirst,

An effort he ventur'd more strong than the first,

'Till swelling and straining too hard, made him burst.

O the roast beef, etc.

Then, Britons, be valiant, the moral is clear,

The ox is Old England, the frog is Monsieur,

Whose puffs and bravadoes we never need fear.

O the roast beef, etc.

For while by our commerce and arts we are able

To see the sirloin smoking hot on our table,

The French may e'en croak, like the frog in the fable.

O the roast beef, etc.

The French sentinel is so situated as to give some idea of a figure hanging in chains: his ragged shirt is trimmed with a pair of paper ruffles, on which is written "Grand Monarch. P." The old woman, and a fish which she is pointing at, have a striking resemblance. The abundance of parsnips and other vegetables indicate what are the leading articles in a Lenten feast.

Mr. Pine the painter sat for the friar, and from thence acquired the title of Father Pine. This distinction did not flatter him, and he frequently requested that the countenance might be altered, but the artist peremptorily refused.

Part of the print was engraved by C. Mosley, but the heads are evidently by Hogarth.[175]

A copy has been repeatedly engraven as an head-piece to the cantata before mentioned: the profile of the artist was traced for a watch-paper; and a wooden representation of the starved soldier has frequently decorated advertisements for recruits, where it is opposed to the figure of a well-fed gourmand, characteristically christened a valiant British soldier.

The original picture is in the possession of Lord Charlemont.

Soon after this painting was finished, a nail was by some accident run through the cross at the top of the gate. Hogarth strove in vain to repair the blemish with paint of the same colour; he therefore introduced a half-starved crow looking down on the beef, and thus completely covered the defect.