"Directly behind the drummer's quondam spouse, appears a soldier pissing against a shed; and some distortions in his countenance indicate a malady too indelicate to describe; this conjecture is aided by a bill of Dr. Rock's for relief in like cases. Directly over him appears a wench at a wicket, probably drawn there to have a view of the march; but is diverted from her first intention by the appearance of another object directly under her eye, which seems to ingross her whole attention.
"Behind the drummer under the sign of the Adam and Eve are a group of figures; two of which are engaged in the fashionable art of bruising: their equal dexterity is shewn, by sewed-up peepers on one side, and a pate well-sconced on the other. And here the painter has shewn his impartiality to the merit of our noble youths, (whose minds, inflamed with love of glory, appear, not only encouragers of this truly laudable science, but many of them are also great proficients in the art itself,) by introducing a youth of quality, whose face is expressive of those boisterous passions necessary for forming a hero of this kind; and who, entering deep into the scene, endeavours to inspire the combatants with a noble contempt of bruises and broken bones. An old woman, moved by a foolish compassion, endeavours to force through the croud and part the fray, in which design she is stopped by a fellow, who prefers fun and mischief to humanity. Above their heads appears a little man[3] of meagre frame, but full of spirits, who enjoys the combat, and with fists clenched, in imagination deals blow for blow with the heroes. This figure is finely contrasted, by a heavy sluggish fellow just behind. The painter, with a stroke of humour peculiar to himself, has exhibited a figure shrinking under the load of a heavy box upon his back, who, preferring curiosity to ease, is a spectator, and waits in this uneasy state the issue of the combat. Upon a board next the sign, where roots, flowers, &c. were said to be sold, the painter has humorously altered the words, and wrote thereon, Tottenham-Court Nursery; alluding to a bruising-booth in this place, and the group of figures underneath.
"Passing through the turnpike, appears a carriage laden with the implements of war, as drums, halberts, tent-poles, and hoop-petticoats. Upon the carriage are two old women-campaigners, funking their pipes, and holding a conversation, as usual, in fire and smoke. These grotesque figures afford a fine contrast to a delicate woman upon the same carriage, who is suckling a child. This excellent figure evidently proves, that the painter is as capable of succeeding in the graceful style as in the humorous. A little boy laes at the feet of this figure; and the painter, to shew him of martial breed, has placed a small trumpet in his mouth.
"The serious group of the principal figures, in the center, is finely relieved by a scene of humour on the left. Here an officer has seized a milk-wench, and is kissing her in a manner excessively lewd, yet not unpleasing to the girl, if her eye is a proper interpreter of her affections: while the officer's ruffles suffer in this action, the girl pays her price, by an arch soldier, who in her absence of attention to her pails, is filling his hat with milk, and, by his waggish eye, seems also to partake of the kissing scene. A chimney-sweeper's boy with glee puts in a request to the soldier, to supply him with a cap full, when his own turn is served; while another soldier points out the fun to a fellow selling pyes, who, with an inimitable face of simple joy, neglects the care of his goods, which the soldier dexterously removes with his other hand. In the figure of the pye-man, the pencil has exceeded description——here the sounding epithets of prodigious—excellent—wonderful—and all the other terms used by Connoisseurs (when speaking of the beauties of an old picture, where the objects must have lain in eternal obscurity, if not conjured out to the apprehension of the spectator, by the magic of unintelligible description) are too faint to point out its real merit.
"The old soldier divested of one spatter-dash, and near losing the other, and knocked down by all-potent gin, upon calling for t'other cogue, his waggish comrade, supporting him with one hand, endeavours to pour water into his mouth with the other, which the experienced old one rejects with disdain, puts up his hand to his wife who bears the arms and gin-bottle, and who, well acquainted with his taste, is filling a quartern. And here the painter exhibits a sermon upon the excessive use of spirituous liquors, and the destructive consequences attending it: for the soldier is not only rendered incapable of his duty, but (what is shocking to behold) a child begot and conceived in gin, with a countenance emaciated, extends its little arms with great earnestness, and wishes for that liquor, which it seems well acquainted with the taste of. And here, not to dwell wholly upon the beauties of this print, I must mention an absurdity discovered by a professed connoisseur in painting—'Can there,' says he, 'be a greater absurdity than the introducing a couple of chickens so near such a croud—and not only so—but see—their direction is to go to objects it is natural for 'em to shun—is this is knowledge of nature?—absurd to the last degree!'——And here, with an air of triumph, ended our judicious critic. But how great was his surprize, when it was discovered to him, that the said chickens were in pursuit of the hen, which had made her escape into the pocket of a sailor.
"Next the sign-post is an honest tar throwing up his hat, crying 'God bless King George.' Before him is an image of drunken loyalty; who, with his shirt out of his breeches, and bayonet in his hand, vows destruction on the heads of the rebels. A fine figure of a speaking old woman, with a basket upon her head, will upon view tell you what she sells. A humane soldier perceiving a fellow hard-loaded with a barrel of gin upon his back, and stopped by the croud, with a gimblet bores a hole in the head of the cask, and is kindly easing him of a part of his burthen. Near him, is the figure of a fine gentleman in the army. As I suppose the painter designed him without character, I shall therefore only observe, that he is a very pretty fellow, and happily the contemplation of his own dear person guards him from the attempts of the wicked women on his right hand. Upon the right hand of this petit maitre is a licentious soldier rude with a girl, who screams and wreaks her little vengeance upon his face, whilst his comrade is removing off some linen which hangs in his way.
"You will pardon the invention of a new term—I shall include the whole King's Head in the word Cattery, the principal figure of which is a noted fat Covent Garden lady,[4] who, with pious eyes cast up to heaven, prays for the army's success, and the safe return of many of her babes of grace. An officer offers a letter to one of this lady's children, who rejects it; possibly not liking the cause her spark is engaged in, or, what is more probable, his not having paid for her last favour. Above her, a charitable girl is throwing a shilling to a cripple, while another kindly administers a cordial to her companion, as a sure relief against reflection. The rest of the windows are full of the like cattle; and upon the house-top appear three cats, just emblems of the creatures below, but more harmless in their amorous encounters."
There is likewise another explanation in The Old Woman's Magazine, vol. I. p. 182. To elucidate a circumstance, however, in this justly celebrated performance, it is necessary to observe, that near Tottenham Court Nursery was the place where the famous Broughton's amphitheatre for boxing was erected. It has been since taken down, having been rendered useless by the justices not permitting such kind of diversions. This will account for the appearance of the Bruisers at the left hand corner of the print. One of Hogarth's ideas in this performance also needs the assistance of colouring, to render it intelligible. The person to whom the Frenchman is delivering a letter, was meant for an old Highlander in disguise, as appears from the plaid seen through an opening in his grey coat; a circumstance in the print that escaped me, till after I had seen the picture, and perused Rouquet's explanation of this particular circumstance, which I shall add in his own words, with his reflections at the end of it. "A droite du principal group paroit une figure de François, qu'on a voulu representer comme un homme de quelque importance, afin de lui donner plus de ridicule; il parle à un homme dont la nation est indiquée par l'etoffe de sa veste, qui est celle dont s'habillent les habitans des montagnes d'Ecosse: le François semble communiquer à l'Ecossois des lettres qu'il vient de reçevoir, & qui ont rapport à l'evenement qui donne lieu à cette marche. Les Anglois ne se réjouissent jamais bien sans qu'il en coute quelque chose aux François; leur theatre, leur conversation, leurs tableaux, et sur tout ceux de notre peintre, portent toujours cette glorieuse marque de l'amour de la patrie; les romans même sont ornés de traits amusans sur cet ancien sujet; l'excellent auteur de Tom Jones a voulu aussi lâcher les siens. Mais le pretendu mépris pour les François dont le peuple de ce pais-ci fait profession, s'explique selon moi d'une façon fort équivoque. Le mépris suppose l'oubli; mais un objet dont on médit perpetuèllement est un objet dont on est perpetuèllement occupé: la satire constitue une attention qui me feroit soupconner qu'on fait aux François l'honneur de les haïr un peu."