THE LARGE MASQUERADE TICKET.

MASQUERADE TICKET.

As the first print which Hogarth published on his own account, usually denominated "The Small Masquerade Ticket," represents a large company eagerly pressing to the door of a masquerade, we have here the interior of the room crowded with a countless multitude of grotesque characters, celebrating the orgies of the place, which, in the following references engraved under the original print, are thus described:—

"A, a sacrifice to Priapus. B, a pair of Lecherometors, showing y^e company's inclinations as they approach 'em. Invented for the use of ladys and gentlemen by y^e ingenious Mr. H——r" (Heidegger).

This titular divinity of the gardens being thus considered as the god of their idolatry, his Term is entitled to the first notice. The arched niche in which it is placed is terminated by a goat's head, ornamented with a pair of branching antlers, and decorated with festooned curtains. Beneath is an altar, the base of which is relieved with rams' heads and flowers; and three pair of stags' horns are fixed to the top.

As a companion to it, the united statues of a Venus and Cupid, both of them masked, are placed on the opposite side of the print. Cupid, who is a very well-drawn and spirited little figure, "has bent his bow to shoot at random," and Venus seems contemplating the rise and fall of the mercury in one of those instruments which the reference informs us is to show the inclinations of all that approach it. The niche in which these divinities are placed is not only decorated with curtains, but crowned with cooing doves. An altar beneath has on it three or four bleeding hearts, which, being close to the blaze, are in the way of being broiled. On the base are queue-wigs, bag-wigs, etc.

This may suffice for the presiding deities of the diversion; the head of their high priest, the renowned Heidegger, master of the mysteries and manager in chief, is placed on the front of a large dial, fixed lozenge-fashion at the top of the print, and I believe intended to vibrate with the pendulum, the ball of which hangs beneath, and is labelled "Nonsense." On the minute finger is written "Impertinence," and on the hour hand, "Wit:" which seems to intimate nonsense every second, impertinence every minute, and wit once an hour! The time is half-past one—the witching hour of night; 1727, the date of the year this print was published, is on the corners of the clock.

Recumbent on the upper line of this print, and resting against the sides of the dial, the artist has placed our British lion and unicorn renverse (such, I think, is the term in heraldry), lying on their backs, and each of them playing with its own tail; the lion sinister, and the unicorn dexter. The supporters of our regal arms being thus ludicrously introduced, may perhaps allude to the encouragement George the Second gave to Heidegger, who at that period might be said to

"Teach kings to fiddle, and make senates dance;"

and who, by thus kindly superintending the pleasures of our nobles, gained an income of £5000 a year, and, as he frequently boasted, laid out the whole in this country.

Beneath is a framed picture of a Bacchanalian scene; and on each side, shelves with pyramids of jellies, sweetmeats, etc., inscribed "Provocatives." On two labels placed before them is written, "Supper below."

A pair of instruments, somewhat similar to the mental thermometer in "The Medley," are fixed on each side: on that next to Venus and Cupid is written, "cool, warm, dry, changeable, hot, moist, fixt;" on the other, "expectation, hope, hot desire, extreme hot, moist, sudden cold."

The motley crew who make up the crowd it is not easy to describe, for every one present assumes a false character.

"Here tottering old age essays to prance

With feeble feet, and joins th' imperfect dance;

There, supercilious youth assumes the air

And reverend mien which hoary sages wear.

'Tis thus, like Proteus, Folly joys to range,

Her name to vary, and her shape to change."

Here are priests of all persuasions—Brahmins, friars, drones, monks, and monkeys not a few.

A figure of Time with his scythe, eagerly pressing towards the altar with rams' heads, is arrested in his course by a sort of slaughterman, with a mask, shaven crown, and short apron, who violently grasps his wing with one hand, and with the other lifts up a hatchet, which with fatal force he aims at his head. For sanctuary, this feeble figure lays hold of one of the horns of the altar, but is frustrated in his attempt to reach the steps by a bishop, who, with his sacrificing knife, coolly stabs him to the heart; while a monkey, in the habit of a chorister, holds a basin to catch the blood, the fumes from which he snuffs up with ineffable delight. This I apprehend to be a metaphorical view of a prelate killing Time at a masquerade.

Next to this group is a Mother Shipton, hooking on the arms of a clown; and near them a harlequin endeavouring to draw the attention of a graceful columbine from a turban'd Turk, who attempts to seduce her from her party-coloured gallant. A female, with the mask of a monkey's head, salutes a nun in a black veil; and while an old Capuchin, with the face of an ape, whispers soft things to a young girl, a fellow somewhat like Tiddy-doll draws up her head-dress to a point, like a fool's cap. A man in the right-hand corner, solicitous to give a glass of wine to one of the sisterhood, lifts up her veil for the purpose of her drinking it.[120]

ADDENDA.