The following authenticated story of our artist will also serve to shew how much more easy it is to detect ill-placed or hyperbolical adulation respecting others, than when applied to ourselves. Hogarth being at dinner with the great Cheselden, and some other company, was told that Mr. John Freke, surgeon of St. Bartholomew's Hospital, a few evenings before at Dick's Coffee-house, had asserted, that Greene was as eminent in composition as Handel. "That fellow Freke," replied Hogarth, "is always shooting his bolt absurdly one way or another! Handel is a giant in music; Greene only a light Florimel kind of a composer."—"Ay," says our artist's informant, "but at the same time Mr. Freke declared you were as good a portrait-painter as Vandyck."—"There he was in the right," adds Hogarth; "and so by G— I am, give me my time, and let me choose my subject!"
With Dr. Hoadly, the late Chancellor of Winchester, Mr. Hogarth was always on terms of the strictest friendship, and frequently visited him at Winchester, St. Cross, and Alresford. It is well known, that Dr. Hoadly's fondness for theatrical exhibitions was so great, that few visitors were ever long in his house before they were solicited to accept a part in some interlude or other. He himself, with Garrick and Hogarth, once performed a laughable parody on the scene in Julius Cæsar, where the Ghost appears to Brutus. Hogarth personated the spectre; but so unretentive was his memory, that, although his speech consisted only of two lines, he was unable to get them by heart. At last they hit on the following expedient in his favour. The verses he was to deliver were written in such large letters, on the outside of an illuminated paper-lanthorn, that he could read them when he entered with it in his hand on the stage. Hogarth painted a scene on this occasion, representing a sutling booth, with the Duck of Cumberland's head by way of sign. He also prepared the play-bill, with characteristic ornaments. The original drawing is still preserved, and we could wish it were engraved; as the slightest sketch from the design of so grotesque a painter would be welcome to the numerous collectors of his works.
Hogarth was also the most absent of men. At table he would sometimes turn round his chair as if he had finished eating, and as suddenly would return it, and fall to his meal again. I may add, that he once directed a letter to Dr. Hoadly, thus,—"To the Doctor at Chelsea." This epistle, however, by good luck, did not miscarry; and was preserved by the late Chancellor of Winchester, as a pleasant memorial of his friend's extraordinary inattention.
Another remarkable instance of Hogarth's absence was told me, after the first edition of this work, by one of his intimate friends. Soon after he set up his carriage, he had occasion to pay a visit to the lord-mayor (I believe it was Mr. Beckford). When he went, the weather was fine; but business detained him till a violent shower of rain came on. He was let out of the Mansion-house by a different door from that at which he entered; and, seeing the rain, began immediately to call for a hackney-coach. Not one was to be met with on any of the neighbouring stands; and our artist sallied forth to brave the storm, and actually reached Leicester-fields without bestowing a thought on his own carriage, till Mrs. Hogarth (surprized to see him so wet and splashed) asked where he had left it.
Mr. Walpole, in the following note, p. 69, is willing to expose the indelicacy of the Flemish painters, by comparing it with the purity of Hogarth. "When they attempt humour," says our author, "it is by making a drunkard vomit; they take evacuations for jokes; and when they make us sick, think they make us laugh. A boor hugging a frightful frow is a frequent incident, even in the works of Teniers." Shall we proceed to examine whether the scenes painted by our countryman are wholly free from the same indelicacies? In one plate of Hudibras, where he encounters a Skimmington, a man is making water against the end of a house, while a taylor's wife is most significantly attending to the dirty process. In another plate to the same work, a boy is pissing into the shoe of Ralpho, while the widow is standing by. Another boy in the Enraged Musician is easing nature by the same mode; and a little miss is looking earnestly on the operation. In the March to Finchley, a diseased soldier has no better employment; and a woman is likewise staring at him out of a window. This circumstance did not escape the observation of Rouquet the enameller, whose remarks[44] on the plates of our artist I shall have more than once occasion to introduce. "Il y a," says he, "dans quelques endroits de cet excellent tableau, des objets peut être plus propres à peindre qu'à décrire. D'ou vient que les oreilles sont plus chaste que les yeux? Ne seroit ce pas parce qu'on peut regarder certains objets dans un tableau, et feindre de ne pas les voir; et qu'il n'est pas si aisé d'entendre une obscénité, et de feindre de ne l'entendre pas! L'objet, dont je veux parler, est toutefois peu considérable; il s'agit seulement d'un soldat à qui le voyage de Montpelier conviendroit mieux que celui d'Ecosse. L'amour lui a fait une blessure, &c." Was this occurrence delicate or precious enough to deserve such frequency of repetition? In the burlesque Paul before Felix, when the High Priest applies his fingers to his nose, we have reason to imagine that his manœuvre was in consequence of some offensive escape during the terrors of the pro-consul of Judea, who, as he is here represented, conveys no imperfect image of a late Lord Mayor, at the time of the riots in London. In this last instance, indeed, I ought to have observed that Hogarth meant to satirize, not to imitate, the painters of Holland and Flanders. But I forbear to dwell any longer on such disgusting circumstances; begging leave only to ask, whether the canvas of Teniers exhibits nastier objects than those of the woman cracking a louse between her nails in the fourth plate of the Harlot's Progress; a Scotch bag-piper catching another in his neck while he is performing at the Election feast; Aurora doing the same kind office for a Syren or Nereid, in the Strollers, &c.; the old toothless French beldams, slobbering (Venus forbid we should call it kissing) each other in the comic print entitled Noon; the chamber-pot emptied on the Free Mason's head, in the Rejoicing Night; or the Lilliputians giving a clyster to Gulliver? In some of these instances, however, the humour may compensate for the indelicacy, which is rarely the case with such Dutch pictures as have justly incurred the censure of Mr. Walpole. Let us now try how far some of the compositions of Hogarth have befriended the cause of modesty. In the Harlot's Progress, Plate VI. we meet with a hand by no means busied in manner suitable to the purity of its owner's function. Hogarth indeed, in three different works, has delineated three clergymen; the one as a drunkard; the second as a glutton; and the third as a whoremaster, who (I borrow Rouquet's words) "est plus occupé de sa voisine que de son vin, qu'il repand par une distraction qu'elle lui cause." He who, in the eyes of the vulgar, would degrade our professors of religion, deserves few thanks from society. In the Rake's Progress, Plate the last, how is the hand of the ideal potentate employed, while he is gazing with no very modest aspect on a couple of young women who pass before his cell numbered 55? and to what particular object are the eyes of the said females supposed to be directed?[45] Nay, in what pursuit is the grenadier engaged who stands with his face toward the wall in Plate 9. of Industry and Idleness? May we address another question to the reader? Is the "smile of Socrates," or the "benevolence of the designer," very distinguishable in the half dozen last instances? It has been observed indeed by physiognomists, that the smile of the real Socrates resembled the grin of a satyr; and perhaps a few of the particulars here alluded to, as well as the prints entitled Before and After, ought to be considered as a benevolence to speculative old maids, or misses not yet enfranchised from a boarding school. Had this truly sensible critic, and elegant writer, been content to observe, that such gross circumstances as form the chief subject of Flemish pictures, are only incidental and subordinate in those of our artist, the remark might have escaped reprehension. But perhaps he who has told us that "St. Paul's hand was once improperly placed before the wife of Felix" should not have suffered more glaring insults on decency to pass without a censure. On this occasion, though I may be found to differ from Mr. Walpole, I am ready to confess how much regard is due to the opinions of a gentleman whose mind has been long exercised on a subject which is almost new to me; especially when I recollect that my present researches would have had no guide, but for the lights held out in the last volume of the Anecdotes of Painting in England.
Hogarth boasted that he could draw a Serjeant with his pike, going into an alehouse, and his Dog following him, with only three strokes;—which he executed thus:
A. The perspective line of the door.
B. The end of the Serjeant's pike, who is gone in.
C. The end of the Dog's tail, who is following him.
There are similar whims of the Caracci.
A specimen of Hogarth's propensity to merriment, on the most trivial occasions, is observable in one of his cards requesting the company of Dr. Arnold King to dine with him at the Mitre.[46] Within a circle, to which a knife and fork are the supporters, the written part is contained. In the center is drawn a pye, with a mitre on the top of it; and the invitation of our artist concludes with the following sport on three of the Greek letters—to Eta Beta Pi.[47] The rest of the inscription is not very accurately spelt. A quibble by Hogarth is surely as respectable as a conundrum by Swift.
"Some nicer virtuosi have remarked, that in the serious pieces, into which Hogarth has deviated from the natural biass of his genius, there are some strokes of the ridiculous discernible, which suit not with the dignity of his subject. In his preaching of St. Paul, a dog snarling at a cat;[48] and in his Pharaoh's Daughter, the figure of the infant Moses, who expresses rather archness than timidity; are alledged as instances, that this artist, unrivalled in his own walk, could not resist the impulse of his imagination towards drollery. His picture, however, of Richard III. is pure and unmixed, without any ridiculous circumstances, and strongly impresses terror and amazement." As these observations are extracted from the first edition of Dr. Warton's "Essay on the Genius and Writings of Pope," it would be uncandid if we did not accompany them with the following note from a subsequent edition of that valuable performance: "The author gladly lays hold of the opportunity of this third edition of his work to confess a mistake he had committed with respect to two admirable paintings of Mr. Hogarth, his Paul Preaching, and his Infant Moses; which, on a closer examination, are not chargeable with the blemishes imputed to them. Justice obliges him to declare the high opinion he entertains of the abilities of this inimitable artist, who shines in so many different lights, and on such very dissimilar subjects; and whose works have more of what the ancients called the ΗθΟΣ [Greek: Ethos] in them, than the compositions of any other Modern. For the rest, the author begs leave to add, that he is so far from being ashamed of retracting his error, that he had rather appear a Man of Candour, than the best Critic that ever lived."[49]