1733 and 1734.
1.[1] The Harlot's Progress,[2] in six plates. In the first is a portrait of Colonel Chartres. "Cette figure de viellard (says Rouquet) est d'aprés nature; c'est le portrait d'un officier très riche, fameux dans ce tems-là pour de pareilles expéditions, grand séducteur de campagnardes, et qui avoit toujours à ses gages des femmes de la profession de celle qui cajole ici la nouvelle débarquée." Behind him is John Gourlay a Pimp, whom he always kept about his person. The next figure that attracts our notice, is that of Mother Needham. To prove this woman was sufficiently notorious to have deserved the satire of Hogarth, the following paragraphs in The Grub-street Journal are sufficient.
March 25, 1731. "The noted Mother Needham was yesterday committed to The Gatehouse by Justice Railton."
Ibid. "Yesterday, at the quarter-sessions for the city and liberties of Westminster, the infamous Mother Needham, who has been reported to have been dead for some time, to screen her from several prosecutions, was brought from The Gatehouse, and pleaded not guilty to an indictment found against her for keeping a lewd and disorderly house; but, for want of sureties, was remanded back to prison."
Ibid. April 29, 1731. "Oh Saturday ended the quarter-sessions for Westminster, &c. The noted Mother Needham, convicted for keeping a disorderly house in Park Place, St. James's, was fined One Shilling, to stand twice in the pillory, and find sureties for her good behaviour for three years."
Ibid. May 6, 1731. "Yesterday the noted Mother Needham stood in the pillory in Park Place, near St. James's-street, and was roughly handled by the populace. She was so very ill that she lay along, notwithstanding which she was so severely &c. that it is thought she will die in a day or two."—Another account says—"she lay along on her face in the pillory, and so evaded the law which requires that her face should be exposed."—"Yesterday morning died Mother Needham. She declared in her last words,[3] that what most affected her was the terror of standing in the pillory to-morrow in New Palace-yard, having been so ungratefully used by the populace on Wednesday."
The memory of this woman is thus perpetuated in The Dunciad, I. 323.
"To Needham's quick the voice triumphal rode,
But pious Needham dropt the name of God."
The note on this passage says, she was "a matron of great fame, and very religious in her way; whose constant prayer it was, that she might 'get enough by her profession to leave it off in time, and make her peace with God.'[4] But her fate was not so happy; for being convicted, and set in the pillory, she was (to the lasting shame of all her great Friends and Votaries) so ill used by the populace, that it put an end to her days."
Rouquet has a whimsical remark relative to the clergyman just arrived in London. "Cet ecclesiastique monté sur un cheval blanc, comme ils affectent ici de l'être."—The variations in this plate are; shade thrown by one house upon another; London added on the letter the parson is reading; change in one corner of the fore-ground; the face of the Bawd much altered for the worse, and her foot introduced.
Plate II. Quin compared Garrick in Othello to the black boy with the tea-kettle,[5] a circumstance that by no means encouraged our Roscius to continue acting the part. Indeed, when his face was obscured, his chief power of expression was lost; and then, and not till then, was he reduced to a level with several other performers. In a copy of this set of plates, one of the two small portraits hanging up in the Jew's bedchamber, is superscribed, Clarke; but without authority from Hogarth. Woolston would likewise have been out of his place, as he had written against the Jewish tenets. Of this circumstance, Hogarth was probably told by some friend, and therefore effaced a name he had once ignorantly inserted.
In Plate III.[6] (as already observed) is the portrait of Sir John Gonson. That Sir John Gonson was the person intended in this print, is evident from a circumstance in the next, where, on a door in Bridewell, a figure hanging is drawn in chalk, with an inscription over it, "Sir J. G." as well as from the following explanation by Rouquet: "La figure, qui paroit entrer sans bruit avec une partie de guet, est un commissaire qui se distinguoit extrêmement par son zèle pour la persecution des filles de joye."
Respecting another circumstance, however, in the third plate, Rouquet appears to have met with some particular information that has escaped me. "L'auteur a saisi l'occasion d'un morceau de beurre qui fait partie du déjeuné, pour l'enveloper plaisamment dans le titre de la lettre pastorale qu'un grand prelat[7] addressa dans ce tems-là à son diocese, & dont plusieurs exemplaires eurent le malheur d'être renvoyés à l'epicier."—The sleeve of the maid-servant's gown in this plate is enlarged, and the neck of a bottle on the table is lengthened.
For variations in Plate IV. see the roof of the room. Shadow on the principal woman's petticoat, and from the hoop-petticoat hanging up in the back ground. The dog made darker. The woman next the overseer has a high cap, which in the modern impressions is lowered.
In Plate V. Roof of the room. Back of the chair. Table. Dr. Misaubin's waistcoat. Name of Dr. Rock on the paper lying on the close-stool. Dish at the fire.
In a despicable poem published in 1732, under the fictitious name of Joseph Gay, and intituled "The Harlot's Progress, which is a key to the six prints lately published by Mr. Hogarth," the two quacks in attendance on the dying woman are called Tan—r and G—m. It is evident from several circumstances, that this Mr. J. Gay became acquainted with our author's work through the medium of a copy.
In Plate VI. the woman seated next the clergyman was designed for Elizabeth Adams, who, at the age of 30, was afterwards executed for a robbery, September 10, 1737. The common print of her will justify this assertion.
If we may trust the wretched metrical performance just quoted, the Bawd in this sixth plate was designed for Mother Bentley.
The portrait hanging up in the Jew's apartment was originally subscribed "Mr. Woolston." There was a scriptural motto to one of the other pictures; and on the cieling of the room in which the girl is dying, a certain obscene word was more visible than it is at present. The former inscription on the paper now inscribed Dr. Rock, was also a gross one. I should in justice add, that before these plates were delivered to the subscribers, the offensive particulars here mentioned were omitted.
The following paragraph in The Grub-street Journal for September 24, 1730, will sufficiently justify the splendid appearance the Harlot makes in Bridewell. See Plate IV. Such well-dressed females are rarely met with in our present houses of correction.
"One Mary Muffet, a woman of great note in the hundreds of Drury, who, about a fortnight ago, was committed to hard labour in Tothill-fields Bridewell, by nine justices, brought his Majesty's writ of Habeas Corpus, and was carried before the right honourable the lord chief justice Raymond, expecting to have been either bailed or discharged; but her commitment appearing to be legal, his lordship thought fit to remand her back again to her former place of confinement, where she is now beating hemp in a gown very richly laced with silver."
Rouquet concludes his illustration of the fifth plate by observing, that the story might have been concluded here. "L'auteur semble avoir rempli son dessein. Il a suivi son heroine jusques au dernier soupir. Il l'a conduite de l'infamie à la pauvreté, par les voies séduisantes du libertinage. Son intention de tâcher de retenir, ou de corriger celles qui leur foiblesse, ou leur ignorance exposent tous les jours à de semblables infortunes, est suffisament executée; on peut donc dire que la tragedie finit à cette planche, et que la suivante est comme le petite piece. C'est une farce done la defunte est plustôt l'occasion que le sujet."—Such is the criticism of Rouquet; but I cannot absolutely concur in the justness of it. Hogarth found an opportunity to convey admonition, and enforce his moral, even in this last plate. It is true that the exploits of our heroine are concluded, and that she is no longer an agent in her own story. Yet as a wish prevails, even among those who are most humbled by their own indiscretions, that some respect should be paid to their remains, that they should be conducted by decent friends to the grave, and interred by a priest who feels for the dead that hope expressed in our Liturgy, let us ask whether the memory of our Harlot meets with any such marks of social attention, or pious benevolence. Are not the preparations for her funeral licentious, like the course of her life, as if the contagion of her example had reached all the company in the room? Her sisters in iniquity alone surround her coffin. One of them is engaged in the double trade of seduction and thievery. A second is admiring herself in a mirror. A third gazes with unconcern on the corpse. If any of the number appear mournful, they express at best but a maudlin sorrow, having glasses of strong liquor in their hands. The very minister, forgetful of his office and character, is shamefully employed; nor does a single circumstance occur, throughout the whole scene, that a reflecting female would not wish should be alienated from her own interment.—Such is the plate which our illustrator, with too much levity, has styled a farce appended to a tragic representation.
He might, however, have exercised his critical abilities with more success on Hogarth's neglect of propriety, though it affords him occasion to display his wit. At the burial of a wanton, who expired in a garret, no escutcheons were ever hung up, or rings given away; and I much question if any bawd ever chose to avow that character before a clergyman, or any infant was ever habited as chief mourner to attend a parent to the grave.—I may add, that when these pictures were painted (a time, if news-papers are to be credited, when, having no established police, every act of violence and licentiousness was practised with impunity in our streets, and women of pleasure were brutally persecuted in every quarter of the town), a funeral attended by such a sisterhood would scarcely have been permitted to reach the place of interment. Much however must be forgiven to the morality of Hogarth's design, and the powers with which it is executed. It may also, on the present occasion, be observed, that in no other scene, out of the many he has painted, has he so widely deviated from vraisemblance.
The following verses, however wretched, being explanatory of the set of plates already spoken of, are here re-printed. They made their appearance under the earliest and best of the pirated copies published by Bowles. Hogarth, finding that such a metrical description had its effect, resolved that his next series of prints should receive the same advantage from an abler hand.
Plate I.
See there, but just arriv'd in town,
The Country Girl in home-spun gown,
Tho' plain her dress appears, how neat!
Her looks how innocent and sweet!
Does not your indignation rise,
When on the bawd you cast your eyes?
Fraught with devices to betray;
She's hither come in quest of prey;
Screens her designs with godly airs,
And talks of homilies and pray'rs,
Till, by her arts, the wretched Maid
To vile Francisco is betray'd.
And see, the lewd old rogue appears,
How at the fresh young thing thing he leers!
In lines too strong, too well exprest
The lustful satyr stands confest.
On batter'd jade, in thread-bare gown,
The Rural Priest is come to town—
Think what his humble thought engages;
Why—lesser work and greater wages.
Plate II.
Debauch'd, and then kick'd out of doors,
The fate of all Francisco's whores,
Poor Polly's forc'd to walk the streets,
Till with a wealthy Jew she meets.
Quickly the man of circumcision
For her reception makes provision.
You see her now in all her splendour,
A Monkey and a Black t' attend her.
How great a sot's a keeping cully,
Who thinks t' enjoy a woman solely!
Tho' he support her grandeur, Miss
Will by the bye with others kiss.
Thus Polly play'd her part; she had
A Beau admitted to her bed;
But th' Hebrew coming unexpected,
Puts her in fear to be detected.
This to prevent, she at breakfast picks
A quarrel, and insulting kicks
The table down: while by her Maid
The Beau is to the door convey'd.
Plate III.
Molly discarded once again,
Takes lodgings next in Drury-lane;
Sets up the business on her own
Account, and deals with all the town.
At breakfast here in deshabille,
While Margery does the tea-pot fill,
Miss holds a watch up, which, by slight
Of hand, was made a prize last night.
From chandler's shop a dab of butter,
Brought on his lordship's Pastoral Letter,
A cup, a saucer, knife, and roll,
Are plac'd before her on a stool.
A chair behind her holds a cloak,
A candle in a bottle stuck,
And by't a bason—but indecent
T'would be in me to say what is in't.
At yonder door, see there Sir John's
Just ent'ring with his Myrmidons,
To Bridewell to convey Miss Molly,
And Margery with her to Mill Dolly.[8]
Plate IV.
See Polly now in Bridewell stands,
A galling mallet in her hands,
Hemp beating with a heavy heart,
And not a soul to take her part.
The Keeper, with a look that's sourer
Than Turk or Devil, standing o'er her:
And if her time she idles, thwack
Comes his rattan across her back.
A dirty, ragged, saucy Jade,
Who sees her here in rich brocade
And Mechlin lace, thumping a punny,
Lolls out her tongue, and winks with one eye.
That other Maux with half a nose,
Who's holding up her tatter'd cloaths,
Laughs too at Madam's working-dress,
And her grim Tyrant's threat'ning face,
A Gamester hard by Poll you see,
In coat be-lac'd and smart toupee.
Kate vermin kills—chalk'd out upon
A window-shutter, hangs Sir John.
Plate V.
Released from Bridewell, Poll again
Drives on her former trade amain;
But who e'er heard of trading wenches
That long escap'd disease that French is?
Our Polly did not—Ills on ills,
Elixirs, boluses and pills,
Catharticks and emeticks dreary,
Had made her of her life quite weary;
At last thrown into salivation
She sinks beneath the operation.
A snuffling whore in waiting by her
Screams out to see the wretch expire.
The Doctors blame each other; Meagre,
With wrath transported, hot and eager,
Starts up, throws down the chair and stool,
And calls her brother Squab a fool.
Your pills, quoth Squab, with cool disdain,
Not my elixir, prov'd her bane.
While they contend, a muffled Punk
Is rummaging poor Polly's trunk.
Plate VI.
The sisterhood of Drury-lane
Are met to form the funeral train.
Priss turns aside the coffin lid,
To take her farewell of the dead.
Kate drinks dejected; Peggy stands
With dismal look, and wrings her hands.
Beck wipes her eyes; and at the glass
In order Jenny sets her face.
The ruin'd Bawd roars out her grief;
Her bottle scarcely gives relief.
Madge fills the wine; his castle-top
With unconcern the Boy winds up.
The Undertaker rolls his eyes
On Sukey, as her glove he tries:
His leering she observes, and while he
Stands thus, she picks his pocket slily.
The Parson sits with look demure
By Fanny's side, but leaning to her.
His left hand spills the wine; his right—
I blush to add—is out of sight.
Over the figure of the Parson is the letter A, which conducts to the following explanation underneath the plate. "A. The famous Couple-Beggar in The Fleet, a wretch who there screens himself from the justice due to his villainies, and daily repeats them."
All but the first impressions of this set of plates are marked thus †. None were originally printed off except for the 1200 subscribers. Immediately after they were served, the plates were retouched, and some of the variations introduced.
[1] In The Craftsman of Nov. 25, 1732, we read, "This day is published, six prints in chiaro oscuro, of The Harlot's Progress, from the designs of Mr. Hogarth, in a beautiful green tint, by Mr. E. Kirkall, with proper explanations under each print. Printed and sold by E. Kirkall, in Dockwell-court, White-Fryars; Phil. Overton, in Fleet-street; H. Overton and J. Hoole, without Newgate; J. King, in the Poultry; and T. Glass, under the Royal Exchange."
Lest any of our readers should from hence suppose we have been guilty of an innacuracy in appropriating this set of prints to the year 1733, &c. it is necessary to observe, that the plates advertised as above, were only a pirated copy of Hogarth's work, and were published before their original.
[2] In The Grub-street Journal for December 6, 1733, appeared the following advertisement: "Lately published, (illustrated with six prints, neatly engraven from Mr. Hogarth's Designs,) The Lure of Venus; or a Harlot's Progress. An heroi-comical Poem, in six Cantos, by Mr. Joseph Gay.
"To Mr. Joseph Gay.
"Sir,
"It has been well observed, that a great and just objection to the Genius of Painters is their want of invention; from whence proceeds so many different designs or draughts on the same history or fable. Few have ventured to touch upon a new story; but still fewer have invented both the story and the execution, as the ingenious Mr. Hogarth has done, in his six prints of a Harlot's Progress; and, without a compliment, Sir, your admirable Cantos are a true key and lively explanation of the painter's hieroglyphicks.
"I am, Sir, yours, &c.
"A. Phillips."
This letter, ascribed to Ambrose Phillips, was in all probability a forgery, like the name of Joseph Gay.
[3] "Mother Needham's Lamentation," was published in May 1731, price 6d.
[4] It seems agreed on by our comic-writers, not to finish the character of a Bawd without giving her some pretence to Religion. In Dryden's Wild Gallant, Mother du Lake, being about to drink a dram, is made to exclaim, "'Tis a great way to the bottom; but heaven is all-sufficient to give me strength for it." The scene in which this speech occurs, was of use to Richardson in his Clarissa, and perhaps to Foote, or Foote's original of the character of Mother Cole.
[5] So in Hill's Actor, pp. 69, 70. "If there be any thing that comes in competition with the unluckiness of this excellent player's figure in this character, it is the appearance he made in his new habit for Othello. We are used to see the greatest majesty imaginable expressed throughout that whole part; and though the joke was somewhat prematurely delivered to the publick, we must acknowledge, that his appearance in that tramontane dress made us rather expect to see a tea-kettle in his hand, than to hear the thundering speeches Shakspeare has thrown into that character, come out of his mouth."
[6] See the back ground of this plate, for a circumstance of such unpardonable grossness as admits of no verbal interpretation.
[7] Bishop Gibson.
[8] Beat hemp.
2. Rehearsal of the Oratorio of Judith. Singing men and boys. Ticket for "A Modern Midnight Conversation." This Oratorio of Judith, which was performed in character, was written by Mr. Huggins, as has been already observed in p. [187]; and the line taken from it,
"The world shall bow to the Assyrian throne,"
inscribed on the book, is a satire on its want of success.—The corner figure looking over the notes, was designed for Mr. Tothall.
3. A Midnight Modern Conversation. W. Hogarth inv. pinx. & sculp. Hogarth soon discovered that this engraving was too faintly executed; and therefore, after taking off a few impressions in red as well as black, he retouched and strengthened the plate. Under this print are the following verses:
Think not to find one meant resemblance here,
We lash the Vices, but the Persons spare.
Prints should be priz'd, as Authors should be read,
Who sharply smile prevailing Folly dead.
So Rabilaes laught, and so Cervantes thought,
So Nature dictated what Art has taught.
Most of the figures, however, are supposed to be real portraits. The Divine and the Lawyer,[1] in particular, are well known to be so.
A pamphlet was published about the same time, under the same title as this plate. In Banks's Poems, vol. I. p. 87. the print is copied as a head-piece to an Epistle to Mr. Hogarth, on this performance. In a note, it is said to have appeared after The Harlot's Progress; and that in the original, and all the larger copies, on the papers that hang out of the politician's pocket at the end of the table, was written The Craftsman, and The London Journal.
Of this print a good, but contracted copy, was published (perhaps with Hogarth's permission), and the following copy of verses engraved under it.
The Bacchanalians; or a Midnight Modern Conversation. A Poem addressed to the Ingenious Mr. Hogarth.Sacred to thee, permit this lay
Thy labour, Hogarth, to display!
Patron and theme in one to be!
'Tis great, but not too great for thee;
For thee, the Poet's constant friend,
Whose vein of humour knows no end.
This verse which, honest to thy fame,
Has added to thy praise thy name!
Who can be dull when to his eyes
Such various scenes of humour rise?
Now we behold in what unite
The Priest, the Beau, the Cit, the Bite;
Where Law and Physick join the Sword,
And Justice deigns to crown the board:
How Midnight Modern Conversations
Mingle all faculties and stations!
Full to the sight, and next the bowl,
Sits the physician of the soul;
No loftier themes his thought pursues
Than Punch, good Company, and Dues:
Easy and careless what may fall,
He hears, consents, and fills to all;
Proving it plainly by his face
That cassocks are no signs of grace.
Near him a son of Belial see;
(That Heav'n and Satan should agree!)
Warm'd and wound up to proper height
He vows to still maintain the fight,
The brave surviving Priest assails,
And fairly damns the first that fails;
Fills up a bumper to the Best
In Christendom, for that's his taste:
The parson simpers at the jest,
And puts it forward to the rest.
What hand but thine so well could draw
A formal Barrister at Law?
Fitzherbert, Littleton, and Coke,
Are all united in his look.
His spacious wig conceals his ears,
Yet the dull plodding beast appears.
His muscles seem exact to fit
Much noise, much pride, and not much wit.
Who then is he with solemn phiz,
Upon his elbows pois'd with ease?
Freely to speak the Muse is loth—
Justice or knave—he may be both—
Justice or knave—'tis much the same:
To boast of crimes, or tell the shame,
Of raking talk or reformation,
'Tis all good Modern Conversation.
What mighty Machiavel art thou,
With patriot cares upon thy brow?
Alas, that punch should have the fate
To drown the pilot of the state!
That while both sides thy pocket holds,
Nor D'Anvers grieves, nor Osborne scolds,
Thou sink'st the business of the nation
In Midnight Modern Conversation!
The Tradesman tells with wat'ry eyes
How Credit sinks, how Taxes rise;
At Parliaments and Great Men pets,
Counts all his losses and his debts.
The puny Fop, mankind's disgrace,
The ladies' jest and looking-glass;
This he-she thing the mode pursues,
And drinks in order—till he sp—s.
See where the Relict of the Wars,
Deep mark'd with honorary scars,
A mightier foe has caus'd to yield
Than ever Marlbro' met in field!
See prostrate on the earth he lies;
And learn, ye soldiers, to be wise.
Flush'd with the fumes of gen'rous wine
The Doctor's face begins to shine:
With eyes half clos'd, in stamm'ring strain,
He speaks the praise of rich champaign.
'Tis dull in verse, what from thy hand
Might even a Cato's smile command.
Th' expiring snuffs, the bottles broke,
And the full bowl at four o'clock.
March 22, 1742, was acted at Covent-Garden, a new scene, called A Modern Midnight Conversation, taken from Hogarth's celebrated print; in which was introduced, Hippisley's Drunken Man, with a comic tale of what really passed between himself and his old aunt, at her house on Mendip-Hills, in Somersetshire. For Mr. Hippisley's benefit.
[1] These, in my first edition, I had ventured, on popular report, to say were parson Ford, and the first Lord Northington, when young. But I am now enabled to identify their persons, on the authority of Sir John Hawkins: "When the Midnight Modern Conversation came out, the general opinion was, that the Divine was the portrait of Orator Henley; and the Lawyer of Kettleby, a vociferous bar orator, remarkable, though an utter barrister, for wearing a full-bottom'd wig, which he is here drawn with, as also for a horrible squint."
In that once popular satire, The Causidicade, are the following lines on this lawyer:
"Up Kettleby starts with a horrible stare!
'Behold, my good Lord, your old friend at the bar,
Or rather old foe, for foes we have been,
As treason fell out, and poor traitors fell in.
Strong opposites e'er, and not once of a side,
Attornies will always great counsel divide.
You for persecutions, I always against,
How oft with a joke 'gainst your law have I fenc'd?
How oft in your pleadings I've pick'd out a hole,
Thro' which from your pounces my culprit I've stole;
I've puzzled against you now eight years or nine,
You, my Lord, for your King, I a ——l for mine.
But what is all this? Now your Lordship will say,
To get at the office this is not the way.
I own it is not, so I make no request
For myself, still firm to my party and test:
But if 'tis your pleasure to give it my son,
He shall take off his coif t'accept of the boon;
That coif I, refusing, transferr'd upon him,
For who'd be a serjeant where P——r was Prime?
That my son is a lawyer no one can gainsay,
As witness his getting off W——te t'other day.'
Quo' my Lord, 'My friend Abel, I needs must allow
You have puzzled me oft, as indeed you do now;
Nay, have puzzled yourself, the court and the law,
And chuckled most wittily over a flaw;
For your nostrums, enigmas, conundrums, and puns,
Are above comprehension, save that of your son's.
To fling off the coif! Oh fye, my friend Abel,
'Twould be acting the part of the Cock in the Fable!
'Tis a badge of distinction! and some people buy it;
Can you doubt on't, when Skinner and Hayward enjoy it?
Tho' I own you have spoil'd (but I will not enlarge on't)
A good Chancery draftsman to make a bad Serjeant.'"
Lord Northington did not come into notice till many years after the publication of this print.