No. 209. The Line of Beauty exemplified.
No. 210. Piracy Exposed.
Much as this famous line of beauty was ridiculed, Hogarth was not allowed to retain the small honour which seemed to arise from it undisputed. It was said that he had stolen the idea from an Italian writer named Lomazzo, Latinised into Lomatius, who had enounced it in a treatise on the Fine Arts, published in the sixteenth century.[102] In another caricature by Paul Sandby, with a vulgar title which I will not repeat, Hogarth is visited, in the midst of his glory, by the ghost of Lomazzo, carrying in one hand his treatise on the arts, and with his other holding up to view the line of beauty itself. In the inscriptions on the plate, the principal figure is described as “An author sinking under the weight of his saturnine analysis;” and, indeed, Hogarth’s terror is broadly painted, while the volume of his analysis is resting heavily upon “a strong support bent in the line of beauty by the mighty load upon it.” Beside Hogarth stands “his faithful pug,” and behind him “a friend of the author endeavouring to prevent his sinking to his natural lowness.” On the other side stands Dr. Morell, or, perhaps, Mr. Townley, the master of Merchant Taylors’ School, who continued his service in preparing the book for the press after Morell’s death, described as “the author’s friend and corrector,” astonished at the sight of the ghost. The ugly figure on the left hand of the picture is described as “Deformity weeping at the condition of her darling son,” while the dog is “a greyhound bemoaning his friend’s condition.” This group is represented in our cut No. 210. The other caricatures which appeared at this time were two numerous to allow us to give a particular description of them. The artist is usually represented, under the influence of his line of beauty, painting ugly pictures from deformed models, or attempting historical pictures in a style bordering on caricature, or, on one occasion, as locked up in a mad-house, and allowed only to exercise his skill upon the bare walls. One of these caricatures is entitled, in allusion to the title of one of his most popular prints, “The Painter’s March through Finchley, dedicated to the king of the gipsies, as an encourager of arts, &c” Hogarth appears in full flight through the village, closely pursued by women and children, and animals in great variety, and defended only by his favourite dog.
With the “Marriage à la mode,” Hogarth may be considered as having reached his highest point of excellence. The set of “Industry and Idleness” tells a good and useful moral story, but displays inferior talent in design. “Beer Street” and “Gin Lane” disgust us by their vulgarity, and the “Four Stages of Cruelty” are equally repulsive to our feelings by the unveiled horrors of the scenes which are too coarsely depicted in them. In the four prints of the proceedings at an election, which are the last of his pictures of this description, published in 1754, Hogarth rises again, and approaches in some degree to his former elevation.
In 1757, on the death of his brother-in-law, John Thornhill, the office of sergeant-painter of all his Majesty’s works became vacant, and it was bestowed upon Hogarth, who, according to his own account, received from it an income of about £200 a-year. This appointment caused another display of hostility towards him, and his enemies called him jeeringly the king’s chief panel painter. It was at this moment that a plan for the establishment of an academy of the fine arts was agitated, which, a few years later, came into existence under the title of the Royal Academy, and Hogarth proclaimed so loud an opposition to this project, that the old cry was raised anew, that he was jealous and envious of all his profession, and that he sought to stand alone as superior to them all. It was the signal for a new onslaught of caricatures upon himself and his line of beauty. Hitherto his assailants had been found chiefly among the artists, but the time was now approaching when he was destined to thrust himself into the midst of a political struggle, where the attacks of a new class of enemies carried with them a more bitter sting.
George II. died on the 17th of October, 1760, and his grandson succeeded him to the throne as George III. It appears evident that before this time Hogarth had gained the favour of lord Bute, who, by his interest with the princess of Wales, was all-powerful in the household of the young prince. The painter had hitherto kept tolerably clear of politics in his prints, but now, unluckily for himself, he suddenly rushed into the arena of political caricature. It was generally said that Hogarth’s object was, by displaying his zeal in the cause of his patron, lord Bute, to obtain an increase in his pension; and he acknowledges himself that his object was gain. “This,” he says, “being a period when war abroad and contention at home engrossed every one’s mind, prints were thrown into the background; and the stagnation rendered it necessary that I should do some timed thing [the italics are Hogarth’s] to recover my lost time, and stop a gap in my income.” Accordingly he determined to attack the great minister, Pitt, who had then recently been compelled to resign his office, and had gone over to the opposition. It is said that John Wilkes, who had previously been Hogarth’s friend, having been privately informed of his design, went to the painter, expostulated with him, and, as he continued obstinate, threatened him with retaliation. In September, 1762, appeared the print entitled “The Times, No. I,” indicating that it was to be followed by a second caricature. The principal features of the picture are these: Europe is represented in flames, which are communicating to Great Britain, but lord Bute, with soldiers and sailors, and the assistance of Highlanders, is labouring to extinguish them, while Pitt is blowing the fire, and the duke of Newcastle brings a barrowful of Monitors and North Britons, the violent journals of the popular party, to feed it. There is much detail in the print which it is not necessary to describe. In fulfilment of his threat, Wilkes, in the number of the North Briton published on the Saturday immediately following the publication of this print, attacked Hogarth with extraordinary bitterness, casting cruel reflections upon his domestic as well as his professional character. Hogarth, stung to the quick, retaliated by publishing the well-known caricature of Wilkes. Thereupon Churchill, the poet, Wilkes’s friend, and formerly the friend of Hogarth also, published a bitter invective in verse against the painter, under the title of an “Epistle to William Hogarth.” Hogarth retaliated again: “Having an old plate by me,” he tells us, “with some parts ready, such as a background and a dog, I began to consider how I could turn so much work laid aside to some account, so patched up a print of Master Churchill in the character of a bear.” The unfinished picture was intended to be a portrait of Hogarth himself; the canonical bear, which represented Churchill, held a pot of porter in one hand, and in the other a knotted club, each knot labelled “lie 1,” “lie 2,” &c The painter, in his “Anecdotes,” exults over the pecuniary profit he derived from the extensive sale of these two prints.
No. 211. An Independent Draughtsman.
The virulence of the caricaturists against Hogarth became on this occasion greater than ever. Parodies on his own works, sneers at his personal appearance and manners, reflections upon his character, were all embodied in prints which bore such names as Hogg-ass, Hoggart, O’Garth, &c Our cut No. 211 represents one of the caricature portraits of the artist. It is entitled “Wm. Hogarth, Esq., drawn from the Life.” Hogarth wears the thistle on his hat, as the sign of his dependence on lord Bute. At his breast hangs his palette, with the line of beauty inscribed upon it. He holds behind his back a roll of paper inscribed “Burlesque on L—d B—t.” In his right hand he presents to view two pictures, “The Times,” and the “Portrait of Wilkes.” At the upper corner to the left is the figure of Bute, offering him in a bag a pension of “£300 per ann.” Some of the allusions in this picture are now obscure, but they no doubt relate to anecdotes well known at the time. They receive some light from the following mock letters which are written at the foot of the plate:—