[51] A polite gentleman, of great learning, and much esteemed. He had some good pictures, and a very fine library, in the great house at Peckham (formerly inhabited by Lord Trevor), which, together with a considerable estate there, was bequeathed to him by his aunt Mrs. Hill.
[52] See the names of the purchasers, and prices of this collection, in the Gentleman's Magazine, 1758, p. 225.
[53] He painted the heart from an injected one provided for him by Cæsar Hawkins the surgeon; and, on the authority of repeated inspection, I venture to affirm, that the fingers of Sigismunda are unstained with blood, and that neither of her hands is employed in rending ornaments from her head, or any other part of her person. In this instance Mr. Walpole's memory must have failed him, as I am confident that his misrepresentation was undesigned. It is whispered (we know not with how much truth) that Mrs. H. was hurt by this description of the picture, and that she returned no thanks for the volume that contains it, when it was sent to her as a present by its author. It should seem that she still designs to dispose of this ill-fated performance, and thinks that its reputation required no additional blast.
I have reprinted this note, without correction, that I might thereby obtain the fairer opportunity of doing justice to Mr. Walpole, concerning the faithfulness of whose memory I had ventured to express a doubt. Genuine information is not always to be had; nor shall I hesitate a moment to apologize for the fallaciousness of mine. The fingers of Sigismunda were originally stained with blood. This indelicate and offensive circumstance was pointed out by some intelligent friend to Hogarth, who reluctantly effaced it.
A correspondent, however, on reading this work, has furnished an additional reason why the lady already mentioned may be offended by the severity of Mr. Walpole's strictures on Sigismunda. "It has been whispered that Count Guiscard's widow was a copy from the daughter of Sir James Thornhill. If this circumstance be true, the very accomplished Critick of Strawberry Hill will own at least that her wrath and Juno's had the same provocation, 'Judiciam Paridis, spretæque injuria formæ.' Impartiality, however, obliges us to add, that Mrs. Hogarth, though in years, is still a very fine woman; and that Mr. Walpole's idea of what a picture of Sigismunda ought to express, is poetically conceived, and delivered with uncommon elegance and force of language. The sober grief, the dignity of suppressed anguish, the involuntary tear, the settled meditation on the fate she meant to meet, and the amorous warmth turned holy by despair, are words that fill the place of colours, supply all the imperfections of Hogarth's design, and succeed even where a Furino or a Correggio may have failed."
[54] This circumstance was ridiculed in a grotesque print, called A Harlot blubbering over a bullock's heart. By William Hogart.
[55] "Many causes may vitiate a writer's judgement of his own works. On that which has cost him much labour he sets a high value, because he is unwilling to think that he has been diligent in vain; what has been produced without toilsome efforts is considered with delight, as a proof of vigorous faculties and fertile invention; and the last work, whatever it be, has necessarily most of the grace of novelty. Milton, however it happened, had this prejudice, and had it to himself." Dr. Johnson.
[56] Sigismunda, however, though she missed of judicious admirers, had, at least, the good fortune to meet with a flatterer in the late Mr. Robert Lloyd, whose poem intituled Genius, Envy, and Time, addressed to William Hogarth, esq. has the following lines. Time is the speaker.
"While Sigismunda's deep distress
Which looks the soul of wretchedness,
When I, with slow and softening pen,
Have gone o'er all the tints agen,
Shall urge a bold and proper claim,
To level half the ancient fame;
While future ages, yet unknown,
With critic air shall proudly own
Thy Hogarth first of every clime
For humour keen, or strong sublime, &c."
It is but justice, on one hand, to add, that when Lloyd wrote this eulogium, he was not yet enlisted under the banners of fashion; but impartiality, on the other hand, requires we should observe that, having, like Hogarth, seen few pictures by the best masters, he was treating of an art he did not understand.