THE END.
The writer of this catalogue is now come to his last chapter, and has before him the last plate that Hogarth engraved, which is properly denominated the Finis to that great painter's works.
Of the various opinions which the numerous readers of these his volumes will form at this his conclusion, he can have no certain judgment; but fears that some of them may be thus anticipated.
The votary of comedy, who considers Hogarth as a mere burlesque painter, with whom he only wishes to laugh, will deem this book too grave; while the saturnine spirit, that looks at him as a mere sermonic moralist, will say it is not grave enough. The man who supposes that every character was individual, and expects the scandalous chronicle of those who were satirized by the artist, will probably complain that there is too little anecdote; while he that considers this as a frivolous, gossiping, and anecdotish age, will say there is too much.
Some will observe that these volumes are too long, and in the style of a tired mariner, exult that they see land. In this their exultation the writer most sincerely participates, but at the same time acknowledges (so predominant is vanity) that he trusts there are who would not regret if the work were still longer, who will correct what they find erroneous without triumphing in their superior sagacity, and candidly forgive the writer's weakness without too much glorying in their own strength.
From the pedantic and quizzical connoisseur I expect no mercy, but suppose that the book and the writer will be arraigned and condemned in manner and form following:—
"I took up these volumes with the expectation of seeing all the characters that Hogarth introduced determined, and all his variations recorded. With respect to the characters, some are mistaken, and others are omitted; and as to the variations, few are noticed.[228] Concerning a multitude of invaluable prints, which have singly produced three times as much as the volume of his prints in their present state sells for, there is not even a catalogue; there are many pages of extraneous matter, which I had not patience to read; every iota of Hogarth I understood without the assistance of this book."
With all possible humility the author declareth, that for your use or benefit he did not compile it.
"Laugh where you may, be candid where you can."
That you may know some of the characters of which the writer is ignorant, he willingly acknowledges; that you may guess at many, where he sees no ground for conjecture, he cheerfully admits; and that both you and himself are very frequently mistaken, he firmly believes.
The prints are described as they are copied from the present state of the plates, and the material alterations incidentally noticed. However great the merit of the tankards and teapots, the waiters and coats of arms, to reduce them did not come into the present plan; to commemorate them was unnecessary.[229] The author of these volumes, from the day he has written man, inspected the works of Hogarth with delight, but was not fully conscious of their superlative merit until the compilation of these remarks, in the progress of which his duty to the public obliged him to examine their design, and endeavour to illustrate their tendency. In this he has engaged with the consciousness that there would be error,—which to such a work is necessarily attached.
To those readers who are not too fastidious to peruse it with this allowance, or who have not hitherto looked at Hogarth with the attention he merits, it is addressed. If it impels them to more minute inspection of his works, the purpose is answered.
Yes, great and unrivalled genius! every contemplation of thy works must be succeeded by admiration!
THE BATHOS, OR MANNER OF SINKING IN SUBLIME PAINTINGS. [231]
Inscribed to the dealers in dark pictures.
THE BATHOS.
In five compartments beneath the title are the following inscriptions:—
In the dexter corner is a pyramidical shell inscribed: "The conic form in which the Goddess of Beauty was worshipped by the ancients at Paphos in the Island of Cyprus. See the medal struck when a Roman emperor visited the temple."
"Simulacrum Deæ non effigie humana, continuus orbis latiori initio tenuem in ambitum meta modo, exsurgens et ratio in obscuro."—Tacit. Hist. lib. 2.
In the sinister corner is a white pyramid, round which is twisted the favourite serpentine line inscribed:—
"A copy of the precise line of Beauty, as it is represented on the first explanatory plate of the 'Analysis of Beauty.'"
"Venus a Paphiis colitur, cujus simulacrum nulli rei magis assimile, quam albæ Pyramidi."—Maximus Tyrius, Ann. 157.
"Note.—The similarity of these two conic figures did not occur to the author till two or three years after the publication of the Analysis in 1754."
Thus conclude the inscriptions. We will next inquire into the motives by which the artist was actuated, and the subjects he has intended to satirize in this his concluding enigmatical and pun-ical print.
The labours of this great painter to the passions are now at an end; and this is the last page of his eventful and instructive histories. Those which he had formed into a series, added to the single prints, portraits, etc., had become so numerous as to form a large volume. A concluding plate seemed necessary; and we are told that, a few months before he was seized with that malady which deprived society of one of its greatest ornaments, he had in contemplation a last engraving. After a dinner with a few social friends at his own table, enjoying
"The feast of reason, and the flow of soul,"
the board crowned with wine, and each glass circulating convivial cheerfulness, he was asked, "What will be the subject of your next print?" "The end of all things!" was his reply. "If that should be the case," added one of his friends, "your business will be finished, for there will be an end of the painter." With a look that conveyed a consciousness of approaching dissolution, and a deep sigh, he answered, "There will so; and therefore, the sooner my work is done the better." With this impulse he next day began this plate, and seeming to consider it as a terminus to his fame, never turned to the right or left until he arrived at the end of his journey.
The aim of this Omega to his own alphabet was twofold; to bring together every object which denoted the end of time, and throw a ridicule upon the bathos and profundity of the ancient masters.
That the bathos is not confined to the poet, but hath at sundry times and in divers manners been of sovereign use to the painter, I am well convinced. My opinion was originally formed upon the inspection of many ancient and modern pictures, innumerable volumes of ancient and modern prints, and an annual attendance at the Royal Exhibition: it was confirmed by the perusal of some papers on the arts, which came into my possession by one of those fortunate accidents that happen to few men above once in their lives. Walking some years ago through Harp Alley, I observed a porter carrying an old trunk without a cover, in which was a little picture in a broad and deep ebony frame, a few mutilated pamphlets, a parcel of prints, and an old manuscript volume bound in vellum. He laid down his load at a broker's shop; I inspected it, and seeing the book inscribed "Mart. Scrib.," purchased the whole lot, took a hackney coach, and joyfully conveyed my prize home. Eagerly inspecting the contents, I found the picture was Dutch, and turned to a tint sombre as the frame: by the help of clear water I brought out the colours, and—
"Oh! Jephtha, judge of Israel,—what a treasure!"
To have painted it, must have been the labour of a long life. Such a green stall!—such a cabbage!—a cauliflower!—a string of Spanish onions!—a bunch of carrots!—a lobster!—a brass kettle!—and a sunflower!—I never beheld before. So clear! transparent! vivid!—It was forcible as Rembrandt! brilliant as Rubens!—and for finishing—the most accurate works of Denner!—the most delicate pencilling of the Chevalier Vanderweff!—compared with this charming tableau, would appear hasty sketches.
The pamphlets were German, and touched of the transmutation of metals; to discover which, who can calculate the loads of charcoal that have been burnt, the retorts that have been burst, or the heads that have been turned? That this grand arcanum of nature will at some future day be revealed, I have no doubt; and there is little reason to fear but the benefit of the discovery will be reaped by this island;—because, Britain is highly favoured by the gods; and several great calculators have clearly proved, that without some such miraculous assistance, Britain must be undone by her enormous national debt.
The prints were Flemish; but these subjects are foreign to my manuscript. First craving pardon for the digression, to that I proceed.
By time[232] it was turned to the colour of old parchment, but that it was written by the righte cunnynge hand of Martinus Scriblerus there can be little doubt.
When he sent some literary memoranda to Arbuthnot,[233] he recommended to the Doctor "the recovery of others which lay straggling about the world."[234]
Let it be also remembered, that though this prodigy of science presented to our English Cervantes numerous tracts, he might not think the Doctor would have a proper value for those on painting. That Martinus was a competent judge of the fine arts, is proved by his fifth chapter on Sinking in Poetry. Now as the family of the Scribleri, with all their alliances and collateral relations, have time immemorial been distinguished for the cacoëthes scribendi of whatever he was a judge, certes he would write, and that which he hath written I have happily preserved. A few extracts[235] which I have inserted will give a general idea of the whole, which is entitled, The Art of Sinking in Painting; and is thus introduced in the Prolegomena:—
"Great and manifold have been the benefits (my dear countryman) which poesy hath derived from that innumerable army of critics and commentators, who fabricated fences to keep her in bounds, and bore blazing torches to irradiate her path. Lamentable is it to consider how few lights have been held out to her sister art; who, notwithstanding an equal or prior claim, hath been suffered to wander through her dreary night with no other illumination than the glow-worm on the bank, or the ignis fatuus in the ditches. For the use and service of the poet there is an ocean of commentary; while the painter hath no other stream in which to slake his thirst for instruction than that which creeps among the weeds in the meadow, or gurgles over the pebbles in the valley.
"From intense application to the mysterious tablets of my great ancestors, for ages professors of astrology and chemistry in the universities of Germany, I am empowered to see by anticipation.
"For me it is decreed to strike the rock of nature with the rod of science, and liberate the fountain of truth, whose waters shall fertilize this ungenial isle. Ye whose well-poised pinions enable you to soar above this our terrestrial globe, and dip your pencils in the rainbow! come and contemplate the magic mirror of Martinus Scriblerus.
"Conscious am I that this our divine muse, who hath not unaptly been styled journeywoman to Nature, is now in a profound sleep; but in the coming century she shall awake from her trance, shake the dust from her many-coloured mantle, and dazzle the surrounding nations. Blest with the power of penetrating the cloud of time, which is impervious to vulgar sight, I see, as in a vision, the wonders of another age; and should these my lucubrations be neglected by my contemporaries, happy am I in the confidence that by their posterity they will be properly estimated, and sought for as were the Sibyl's leaves, regarded as the oracles of Apollo, and considered as the touchstone of true taste. To the age of whom they are worthy, and who are worthy of them, I dedicate these my labours.
"The few who have written upon the fine arts have endeavoured to inculcate simplicity of action, anatomical correctness, symmetry of parts, harmony of colouring, easy folding of drapery, and due attention to the grouping of figures. These rules can only be classed among the idle dreams of visionary speculation; resign yourselves unto my guidance, and listen unto the lessons of truth.
"In every animal there is an original instinct, tending towards that for which it was by nature designed. In man, there is a natural bias to the bathos; but he must be instructed, or rather compelled into any relish or taste for what is denominated the sublime.
"To prove this my position, show a collection of drawings or paintings to a child: it will be irresistibly attracted by glittering colours, forced expressions, and grotesque, or what are commonly called caricatured countenances. Let the savage, who is not vitiated by idle rules, and has never seen painted canvas, be taken into a picture-gallery,—his natural taste will lead him to similar objects. What the artists call a quiet picture, he will quietly pass; but let the figures be crowded, the attitudes extravagant, and the colours gaudy,—his attention and admiration are ensured.
"These facts being admitted, and they cannot be denied, why should we not take the genuine undebauched disposition of man in his original state of simplicity, as a better criterion of truth than that ideal nature which hath misled many painters and writers; of whose fantastic dogmas I cannot too strongly caution you to beware. Should you, in the course of your early studies, have contracted any of this ancient ærugo,—it is corrosive,—consider it as the dross of science, and scatter it in the air, for with my precepts it cannot coalesce. Ideal beauty is a childish absurdity. Painting is, or ought to be, an imitation of nature; and that can never be a good picture which representeth things that never did or can exist."
After many more pages to the same purport, this great philosopher divideth his subject. The table of contents to a few of his chapters, which will give a general idea of his plan, is hereunto annexed:—
"Chap. 1.—Of the Story.
"The principal character in your piece should be an illustrious person; but as great men may sometimes, for their recreation and diversion, or worse purposes, be taken up in mean and trivial matters, in such situations, it is proved from many right worthy examples, they may and ought to be delineated. The Emperor Domitian should be represented killing flies; Nero, playing upon the fiddle; Julius Cæsar, kicking a football; and Commodus, at a bull-baiting.
"Chap. 2.—Relateth unto the Allegory.
"To raise an historical picture above vulgar expression, it should be seasoned with allegory, and elevated with metaphorical allusions and figures.
"Chap. 3.—Of the Time.
"In this there should be variety; and if your story have not a sufficient number of great and famous persons to render it important and interesting, you may embellish it with such portraitures as suit your purpose. Their not having lived in the same age or nation is of little import.
"Chap. 4.—Of the Machinery.
"The machinery, id est, the celestial and infernal powers, must be brought into your picture on every great or difficult occasion. This will not only give your delineation a classical and learned air, but account for any wonderful action which the world might think your hero could not perform without supernatural assistance.
"Chap. 5.—Treateth of the Episode.
"To vary the pleasure of the spectator, an historical picture should be diversified with an episode; especial care being taken that it have no congruity with the main subject; for the name deriveth from that which is superadded to the original plan, and ought no more to appear a part of it than an insect appeareth as a part of the animal unto which it adhereth.
"Chap. 6.—Describeth the nature and end of the Hyperbola, or Impossible.
"This image is of eminent use in giving a cast of grandeur and greatness to what would, without it, appear trivial and mean. It excites astonishment; and the majority of mankind being most delighted with that which is most marvellous, is a good and sufficient cause for your works being well strewed with wonders."
For the contents of eighteen succeeding chapters, treating of the cumbrous, the inflated, the glittering, the infantine, the pun-ical, the vulgar, and sundry other styles, I have not room, but quitting the bathos of Martinus Scriblerus, must proceed unto that of William Hogarth.
It is well worthy of the title, for a more heterogeneous compound of ludicrous and serious objects was never displayed in one print.
Some of his images the artist has gleaned from the common field of the poor company of punsters, and for others hath soared into the lofty regions of mythological allegory. He ascends from an inch of candle setting fire to a print, to the chariot of the sun, which, with Apollo Pæan and his three fiery coursers, sinks into endless night. Mounts from the cobbler's end, twisted round a wooden last, to the world's end, elegantly exemplified by a bursting globe on an alehouse sign. He has contrasted the worn-out brush with the broken crown; and opposed to the empty purse a commission of bankrupt, which, sanctioned with the great seal of a hero upon a white horse, is issued and awarded against Nature,—by Heaven knows who! He has joined the huge cracked bell of the cathedral to the broken bottle of the tavern; and set in opposition to the mutilated column and capital of Ionia, the rope's end of a man-of-war. The bow which, drawn by the old English archer, gave force fraught with death to the barbed arrow, is unstrung and broken. The mutilated firelock, divested of its tube, shall no more thin the ranks of contending armies. The tottering tower, funeral yew, death's head, cross-bones, and "Hic jacet" of a country churchyard, are opposed by the hard-worn besom, blighted oaks, falling sign-post, and unthatched cottage. In what painters call the sky, we have not only the son of Latona, but Luna in a veil: in the distance a ship is sinking into the bed of the ocean, and a gibbet is erected on the shore; to this, in conformity with the wise institutions of our polished ancestors, and for the luxury of those strong-beaked birds that feast their young with blood,—a lord of the creation is suspended.[236] Once,—
"On our quick'st decrees
The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time
Stole, ere we could effect them."
Now,—his scythe, tube, and hour-glass being broken, his progress is ended! his sinews are unstrung! his hour of dissolution arrived!—and with those five capital letters that have concluded the labours of so many learned authors, and which conjoined form the word FINIS,—
"He ends his mortal coil, and breathes his last!"
By his will,—The great globe itself, and all which it inherits, is bequeathed to Chaos,—appointed sole executor;—and this, his last act, is witnessed by the Parcæ.
The print of "The Times," that gave rise to so much unmerited abuse of this wonderful painter and excellent man, is in a blaze. The palette on which he spread the varying tints of many-coloured life—broken;—the whip of satire, armed with which he
"Dar'd the rage
Of the bad men of this degenerate age,"
and scourged those that were safe from the law, and laughed at the gospel;—the whip of satire—divested of its lash, lies unheeded on the earth.
The book of Nature, in which he was so deeply read, and from whence he drew all his images, is open at the last page. The characters that compose his pictured tragi-comedies have passed in review before us, and with the words engraven on the last leaf of that volume which he so well studied, I will conclude this—
Exeunt Omnes.
Hogarth's Crest.