Mr. Walpole has remarked, that if our artist "indulged his spirit of ridicule in personalities, it never proceeded beyond sketches and drawings," and wonders "that he never, without intention, delivered the very features of any identical person." But this elegant writer, who may be said to have received his education in a Court, perhaps had few opportunities of acquaintance among the low popular characters with which Hogarth occasionally peopled his scenes.[16] The Friend to whom I owe this remark was assured by an ancient gentleman of unquestionable veracity and acuteness of observation, that almost all the personages who attend the levee of the Rake were undoubted portraits; and that, in Southwark Fair and the Modern Midnight Conversation, as many more were discoverable. In the former plate he pointed out Essex the dancing-master; and in the latter, as well as in the second plate to the Rake's Progress, Figg the prize-fighter.[17] He mentioned several others by name, from his immediate knowledge both of the painter's design and the characters represented; but the rest of the particulars, by which he supported his assertions, have escaped the memory of my informant. I am also assured, that while Hogarth was painting the Rake's Progress, he had a summer residence at Isleworth; and never failed to question the company who came to see these pictures, if they knew for whom one or another figure was designed. When they guessed wrong, he set them right.
Mr. Walpole has a sketch in oil, given to him by Hogarth, who intended to engrave it. It was done at the time when the House of Commons appointed a committee to inquire into the cruelties exercised on prisoners in the The Fleet, to extort money from them. "The scene," he says, "is the committee; on the table are the instruments of torture. A prisoner in rags, half-starved, appears before them; the poor man has a good countenance, that adds to the interest. On the other hand is the inhuman gaoler. It is the very figure that Salvator Rosa would have drawn for Iago in the moment of detection. Villainy, fear, and conscience, are mixed in yellow and livid on his countenance; his lips are contracted by tremor, his face advances as eager to lie, his legs step back as thinking to make his escape; one hand is thrust precipitately into his bosom, the fingers of the other are catching uncertainly at his button-holes. If this was a portrait, it is the most striking that ever was drawn; if it was not, it is still finer." The portrait was that of Bambridge[18] the warden of The Fleet; and the sketch was taken in the beginning of the year 1729, when Bambridge and Huggins (his predecessor)[19] were under examination. Both were declared "notoriously guilty of great breaches of trust, extortions, cruelties, and other high crimes and misdemeanors;" both were sent to Newgate; and Bambridge was disqualified by act of parliament.[20] The son[21] of Huggins was possessed of a valuable painting from this sketch, and also of a scene in the Beggar's Opera; both of them full of real portraits. On the dispersion of his effects, the latter was purchased by the Rev. Dr. Monkhouse of Queen's College, Oxford. It is in a gilt frame, with a bust of Gay at the top. It's companion, whose present possessor I have not been able to trace out, had, in like manner, that of Sir Francis Page, one of the judges, remarkable for his severity;[22] with a halter round his neck.
The Duke of Leeds has also an original scene in the Beggar's Opera, painted by Hogarth. It is that in which Lucy and Polly are on their knees, before their respective fathers, to intercede for the life of the hero of the piece. All the figures are either known or supposed to be portraits. If I am not misinformed, the late Sir Thomas Robinson (as well known by the name of Long Sir Thomas) is standing in one of the side-boxes. Macheath, unlike his spruce representative on our present stage, is a slouching bully; and Polly appears happily disencumbered of such a hoop as the daughter of Peachum within our younger memories has worn. His Grace gave 35 l. for this picture at Mr. Rich's auction. Another copy of the same scene was bought by the late Sir William Saunderson; and is now in the possession of Sir Henry Gough. Mr. Walpole has a painting of a scene in the same piece, where Macheath is going to execution. In this also the likenesses of Walker, and Miss Fenton afterwards Dutchess of Bolton (the original Macheath and Polly), are preserved.
In the year 1726, when the affair of Mary Tofts, the rabbit-breeder of Godalming, engaged the public attention, a few of our principal surgeons subscribed their guinea a-piece to Hogarth, for an engraving from a ludicrous sketch he had made on that very popular subject. This plate, amongst other portraits, contains that of the notorious St. André, the anatomist to the royal household, and in high credit as a surgeon. The additional celebrity of this man arose either from fraud or ignorance, perhaps from a due mixture of both. It was supported, however, afterwards, by the reputation of a dreadful crime. His imaginary wealth, in spite of these disadvantages, to the last insured him a circle of flatterers, even though, at the age of fourscore, his conversation was offensive to modest ears, and his grey hairs were rendered still more irreverend by repeated acts of untimely lewdness.[23] A particular description of this plate will be given in the future catalogue of Hogarth's works.
In 1727, Hogarth agreed with Morris, an upholsterer, to furnish him with a design on canvas, representing the element of Earth, as a pattern for tapestry. The work not being performed to the satisfaction of Morris, he refused to pay for it; and our artist sued him for the money. This suit (which was tried before Lord Chief Justice Eyre at Westminster, May 28, 1728) was determined in favour of Hogarth. The brief for the defendant in the cause, is preserved below.[24]
In 1730, Mr. Hogarth married the only daughter of Sir James Thornhill,[25] by whom he had no child. This union, indeed, was a stolen one, and consequently without the approbation of Sir James, who, considering the youth of his daughter, then barely eighteen, and the slender finances of her husband, as yet an obscure artist,[26] was not easily reconciled to the match. Soon after this period, however, he began his Harlot's Progress (the coffin in the last plate is inscribed September 2, 1731); and was advised by Lady Thornhill to have some of the scenes in it placed in the way of his father-in-law. Accordingly, one morning early, Mrs. Hogarth undertook to convey several of them into his dining-room. When he arose, he enquired from whence they came; and being told by whom they were introduced, he cried out, "Very well; the man who can furnish representations like these, can also maintain a wife without a portion." He designed this remark as an excuse for keeping his purse-strings close; but, soon after, became both reconciled and generous to the young couple.
Our artist's reputation was so far established in 1731, that it drew forth a poetical compliment from Mr. Mitchell, in the epistle already quoted.
An allegorical cieling by Sir James Thornhill is at the house of the late Mr. Huggins, at Headley Park, Hants. The subject of it is the story of Zephyrus and Flora; and the figure of a Satyr and some others were painted by Hogarth.