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HOGARTH'S WORKS:
WITH
LIFE AND ANECDOTAL DESCRIPTIONS OF HIS PICTURES.
—◆—
SECOND SERIES.

MARRIAGE A LA MODE. PLATE I.

HOGARTH'S WORKS:

WITH

LIFE AND ANECDOTAL DESCRIPTIONS OF HIS PICTURES.

BY

JOHN IRELAND and JOHN NICHOLS, F.S.A.

THE WHOLE OF THE PLATES REDUCED IN EXACT
FAC-SIMILE OF THE ORIGINALS.

Second Series.

London:

CHATTO AND WINDUS, PUBLISHERS.

(SUCCESSORS TO JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN.)

LIST OF PLATES

DESCRIBED IN THE SECOND SERIES.

HOGARTH ILLUSTRATED.

MARRIAGE A LA MODE.

"'Tis from high life our characters are drawn."

In his preceding prints Mr. Hogarth generally pointed his satire at persons in a subordinate situation, and took his examples from the inferior ranks of society. From the situation of his characters, and the minute precision with which he displayed the scenes he professed to delineate, we sometimes see little violations of that decorum which is perhaps necessary in engravings professedly designed for furniture. For this neglect of delicacy some of his prints were censured; to remove all apprehensions of this series being liable to the same objections, they were thus announced in the London Daily Post of April 7, 1743:—

"Mr. Hogarth intends to publish, by subscription, six prints from copperplates, engraved by the best masters in Paris after his own paintings; the heads, for the better preservation of the characters and expressions, to be done by the author, representing a variety of modern occurrences in high life, and called 'Marriage à la Mode.'

"Particular care is taken that the whole work shall not be liable to exception, on account of any indecency or inelegancy; and that none of the characters represented shall be personal, etc."

The artist has adhered to his engagement: he has struck at an higher order, and displayed the follies and vices which frequently degrade our nobility. He has exhibited the prospect of a fashionable marriage, where the gentleman is attracted by riches, and the lady by ambition. That misery and destruction succeeded an union founded upon such principles is not to be wondered at; the progress of that misery, and the final destruction of the actors, is so delineated as to form a regular and well-divided tragedy. In the first act are represented five principal characters; and three of them, by a regular chain of incidents naturally flowing from each other, fall victims to their own vices. The young nobleman, for attempting to revenge the violation of his wife's virtue, which he never cherished, is killed by her paramour, who for this murder suffers an ignominious death; and the lady, distracted at the reflection of having been the cause of their lives terminating in so horrid a manner, makes her own quietus with a dose of laudanum. This is painting to the understanding, appealing to the heart, and making the pencil an advocate in the cause of morality. It is doing that poetical justice which our dramatists have sometimes neglected, and in which they have perhaps been justified by the common events of human life; for it must be acknowledged, that while virtue is frequently unfortunate, we often see vice successful. Notwithstanding this, those pictures are surely best calculated to encourage men in the practice of the social duties which display the evils consequent upon their violation. Whatever poetical justice may allow, morality demands that some examples should be held up to prove "that the omission of a duty frequently leads to the perpetration of a crime; and that crimes of so black a dye as are here represented, almost invariably terminate in wretchedness, infamy, and death."

The original pictures were, on the 6th of June 1750, purchased by Mr. Lane of Hillingdon, near Uxbridge, for one hundred and twenty guineas!—a price so inadequate to their merit, and to what it might have been fairly presumed they would have produced even at that time, that it becomes difficult to account for it in any other way than by supposing that the strange way in which Mr. Hogarth ordered the auction to be conducted puzzled the public, who, not exactly comprehending this new mode of bidding, declined attending or bidding at all.

The following particulars relative to the sale were communicated by Mr. Lane to Mr. John Nichols:—

"Some time after the pictures had been finished, perhaps six or seven years, they were advertised to be sold by a sort of auction, not carried on by personal bidding, but by a written ticket, on which every one was to put the price he would give, with his name subscribed to it. These papers were to be received by Mr. Hogarth for the space of one month, and the highest bidder at twelve o'clock, on the last day of the month, was to be the purchaser: none but those who had in writing made their biddings were to be admitted on the day that was to determine the sale. This nouvelle method of proceeding probably disobliged the public, and there seemed to be at that time a combination against poor Hogarth, who, perhaps, from the extraordinary and frequent approbation of his works, might have imbibed some degree of vanity, which the town in general, friends and foes, seemed resolved to mortify. If this was the case (and to me it is very apparent), they fully effected their design; for on the memorable 6th of June 1750, which was to decide the fate of this capital work, about eleven o'clock, Mr. Lane, the fortunate purchaser, arrived at the Golden Head, when, to his great surprise, expecting (what he had been a witness to in 1745, when Hogarth disposed of many of his pictures) to have found his painting room full of noble and great personages, he only found the painter and his ingenious friend Dr. Parsons, secretary to the Royal Society, talking together, and expecting a number of spectators at least, if not of buyers. Mr. Hogarth then produced the highest bidding, from a gentleman well known, of £110. Nobody coming in, about ten minutes before twelve, by the decisive clock in the room, Mr. Lane told Mr. Hogarth he would make the pounds guineas. The clock then struck twelve, and Hogarth wished Mr. Lane joy of his purchase, hoping it was an agreeable one. Mr. Lane answered, 'Perfectly so.' Now followed a scene of disturbance from Hogarth's friend the Doctor, and what more affected Mr. Lane, a great appearance of disappointment in the painter, and truly with great reason. The Doctor told him he had hurt himself greatly by fixing the determination of the sale at so early an hour, when the people in that part of the town were hardly up. Hogarth, in a tone and manner that could not escape observation, said, 'Perhaps it may be so!' Mr. Lane, after a short pause, declared himself to be of the same opinion; adding, that the artist was very poorly rewarded for his labour, and if he thought it would be of service to him, would give him till three o'clock to find a better purchaser. Hogarth warmly accepted the offer, and expressed his acknowledgments for this kindness in the strongest terms. The proposal likewise received great encomiums from the Doctor, who proposed to make it public. This was peremptorily forbidden by Mr. Lane, whose concession in favour of our artist was remembered by him to the time of his death. About one o'clock, two hours sooner than the time appointed, Hogarth said he could no longer trespass on his generosity, but that if he was pleased with his purchase, he himself was abundantly so with the purchaser. He then desired Mr. Lane to promise that he would not dispose of the pictures without previously acquainting him of his intention, and that he would never permit any person, under pretence of cleaning, to meddle with them, as he always desired to take that office on himself. This promise was readily made by Mr. Lane, who has been tempted more than once by Mr. Hogarth to part with his bargain at a price to be named by himself. When Mr. Lane bought the pictures they were in Carlo Maratte frames, which cost the painter four guineas a-piece."

On the death of Mr. Lane the six pictures became the property of his nephew Colonel Cawthorne, and were in the summer of 1792 put up by auction at Mr. Christie's, and the proprietor bought them in at nine hundred guineas.

They were a short time afterwards purchased by Mr. Angerstein, at one thousand guineas, and are now in his very fine collection.

If considered in the aggregate,—in conception, character, drawing, pencilling, and colouring,—it will not be easy, perhaps not possible, to find six pictures painted by any artist, in any age or country, in which such variety of superlative merit is united.

Since the publication of the first edition of these volumes, the following description of "Marriage à la Mode" was found among the papers of the late Mr. Lane of Hillingdon; and his family believe it to be Hogarth's Explanation, either copied from his own handwriting, or given verbally to Mr. Lane at the time he purchased the pictures. It is subjoined, that the reader may form his own judgment:—

EXPLANATION

OF THE PAINTINGS OF THE LATE MR. HOGARTH, CALLED

MARRIAGE A LA MODE.

"Where Titles deign with Cits to have and hold,

And change rich blood for more substantial gold;

And honour'd trade from interest turns aside,

To hazard happiness for titled pride."—Garrick.

The First Picture.

"There is always a something wanting to make men happy: the great think themselves not sufficiently rich, and the rich believe themselves not enough distinguished. This is the case of the Alderman of London, and the motive which makes him covet for his daughter the alliance of a great lord; who, on his part, does not consent thereto but on condition of enriching his son;—and this is what the painter calls marriage à la mode.

"These sort of marriages are truly but too common in England; and it is, moreover, not unfrequent to see them unhappy as they are ill chosen. The two figures of the Alderman and the Earl are in every respect so well characterized that they explain themselves. The Alderman, with an air of business, counts his money like a man used to this employment; and the Earl, full of his titles and the greatness of his birth, which he lets you see goes as high as William the Conqueror, is in an attitude which shows him full of pride; you think you hear him say me, my arms, my titles, my family, my ancestors: everything about him carries marks of distinction; his very crutches, the humbling consequence of his infirmities, are decked with an earl's coronet; these infirmities are introduced here as the usual consequence of that irregularity of living but too frequent among the great. The two persons who are betrothed, on their parts are by no means attentive to one another: the one looks at himself in the glass, is taking snuff, and thinking of nothing; the other is playing negligently with a ring, and seems to hear with indifference the conversation of a kind of a lawyer who attends the execution of the marriage articles. Another lawyer is exclaiming with admiration on the beauty of a building seen at a distance, and upon which the Earl has spent his whole fortune, and has not sufficient to finish the same. A number of idle footmen, who are about the court of this building, finish the representation of the ruinous pageantry in which the Earl is engaged."

The Second Picture.

"That indifference between the parties which preceded marriage à la mode has not been wanting to follow it. We unite ourselves by contract, and we live separately by inclination. Tired and fatigued one of another, such husbands and wives have nothing in common but a house, tiresome to the husband, and into which he enters as late as he can; and which would not be less tiresome to the lady, was it not sometimes the theatre of other pleasures, either in entertainments or routs. There is here represented a room where there has just been one of these routs, and the company just separated, as you see by the wax candles not yet extinguished. The clock shows you it is noon; and this anticipation of the night upon the day is not the slightest of those strokes which are intended to show the disorder which reigns in the house. Madam, who has just had her tea, is in an attitude which explains itself perhaps too much. Be that as it will, the painter's intention is to represent this lady neglected by her husband, under dispositions which make a perfect contrast with the present situation of this husband, who is just come home, and who appears in a state of the most perfect indifference; fatigued, exhausted, and glutted with pleasure. This figure of the husband, by the novelty of its turn, the delicacy and truth of its expression, is most happily executed. A steward of an old stamp, one of those, if such there be, who are contented with their salary, seizes this moment, not being able to find another, to settle some accounts. The disorder which he perceives gives him a motion which expresses his chagrin, and his fear for the speedy ruin of his master."

The Third Picture.

"The bad conduct of the hero of the piece must be shown here; the painter for this purpose introduces him into the apartment of a quack, where he would not have been but for his debauchery. He makes him meet at the same time, at this quack's, one of those women who, being ruined themselves long since, make afterwards the ruin of others their occupation. A quarrel is supposed to have arisen between this woman and our hero, and the subject thereof appears to be the bad condition, in point of health, of a young girl, from a commerce with whom he had received an injury. This poor girl makes here a contrast, on account of her age, her fearfulness, her softness, with the character of the other woman, who appears a composition of rage, madness, and of all other crimes which usually accompany these abandoned women towards those of their own sex. The doctor and his apartment are objects thrown in by way of episode. Although heretofore only a barber, he is now, if you judge by the appearance he makes, not only a surgeon, but a naturalist, a chemist, a mechanic, a physician, and an apothecary; and to heighten the ridicule, you see he is a Frenchman. The painter, to finish this character according to his own idea, makes him the inventor of machines extremely complicated for the most simple operations; as, one to reduce a dislocated limb, and another to draw the cork out of a bottle."

The Fourth Picture.

"This piece is amusing by the variety of characters therein represented. Let us begin with the principal; and this is Madam at her toilette: a French valet de chambre is putting the finishing stroke to her dress. The painter supposes her returned from one of those auctions of old goods, pictures, and an hundred other things which are so common at London, and where numbers of people of condition are duped. It is there that, for emulation, and only not to give place to another in point of expense, a woman buys at a great price an ugly pagod, without taste, without worth, and which she has no sort of occasion for. It is there also that an opportunity is found of conversing, without scandal, with people whom you cannot see anywhere else. The things which you see on the floor are the valuable acquisitions our heroine has just made at one of those auctions. It is extremely fashionable at London, to have at your house one of those melodious animals which are brought from Italy at great expense; there appears one here, whose figure sufficiently distinguishes him to those who have once seen one of those unhappy victims of the rage of Italians for music. The woman there is charmed, almost to fainting, with the ravishing voice of this singer; but the rest of the company do not seem so sensible of it. The country gentleman, fatigued at a stag or a fox chase, is fallen asleep. You see there, with his hair in papers, one of those personages who pass their whole life in endeavouring to please, but without succeeding; and there, with a fan in his hand, you see one of those heretics in love, a disciple of Anacreon. You see likewise, on the couch, the lawyer who is introduced in the first picture, talking to the lady. He appears to have taken advantage of the indifference of the husband, and that his affairs are pretty far advanced since the first scene. He is proposing the masquerade to his mistress, who does not fail to accept of it. The next piece proceeds to present to you the frightful consequences of this step."

The Fifth Picture.

"The houses of bagnio-keepers are yet at Paris what they were heretofore at London: but now the bath is but the accessory, the appendix of the bagnio-keepers of this country, and excepting two or three of their houses, the others have for the principal view of their establishment the reception of any couple, well or ill sorted, who are desirous of a chamber, or a bed, for an hour or a night. The price is fixed in each house: there are some where you pay five shillings, in others half a guinea: you enter both into one and the other at any time with a great deal of safety, and are received there with all the complaisance imaginable. Nothing is better furnished, more clean, and better conducted than these houses of debauchery. The masqueraders often make assignations at these places; and it is for such an assignation that our heroine has accepted of the ticket which her lover offers her in the former piece. A husband, whose wife goes to the masquerade without him, is not without his inquietudes; it is natural that ours here has secretly followed his wife thither, and from thence to the bagnio, where he finds her in bed with the lawyer. They fight;—the husband is mortally wounded: his wife, upon her knees, is making useless protestations of her remorse. The watchmen enter; and the lawyer, in his shirt, is getting out of the window."

The Sixth Picture.

"We are now at the house of the Alderman. London Bridge, which is seen through the window, shows the quarter where the people of business live. The furniture of this house does not contribute to its ornament;—everything shows niggardliness; and the dinner, which is on the table, the highest frugality. You see the tobacco-pipes set by in the corner: this, too, is a mark of great economy. Some pictures you see, upon very low subjects, to give you to understand by this choice that persons who, like the Alderman, pass their whole life in thinking of nothing but enriching themselves, generally want taste and elegance. Besides, everything here is contrasted with what you saw at the Earl's: the pride of one, and the sordidness of the other, are always equally ridiculous by the odd subjects of the pictures which are there seen; but generally in the choice of pictures, neither the analogy, taste, or agreement one with another are consulted. The broker only is advised with, who on his part consults only his own interest, of which he is much more capable of being a judge than he is of painting; like a seller of old books, who knows how to say, Here is an Elzevir Horace, or one of the Louvre edition,—and who knows all this without being acquainted with poetry, or capable of distinguishing an epigram from an epic poem. There is only one difference between a bookseller and a broker: the first has certain marks by which he knows the edition; and the other is obliged to have recourse to inspiration, which is the only way whereby he is able to judge infallibly, as he does, whether a picture is an original or no. But to return to our subject. The daughter of the Alderman, now a widow, is returned to her father. Her lover has been taken and hanged for the murder of her husband: this she has learned from the dying speech which is at her foot upon the floor. A conscience disturbed and tormented with remorse is very soon driven to despair. This woman, who by the consequence of her infidelity has destroyed her husband, her lover, her reputation, and her quiet, has nothing to lose but her life. This she does by taking laudanum. She dies. An old servant in tears makes her kiss her child, the melancholy production of an unfortunate marriage. The Alderman, more sensible of the least acquisition than of the most tragical events, takes, without emotion, a ring from the finger of his expiring daughter. The apothecary is severely reprimanding the ridiculous footman of the house who had procured the poison, the effects of which finish the catastrophe."

Thus ends this explanation; and whether it was copied from what Hogarth wrote, or, as is more probable, made up from verbal remarks which he had made at different times, it does not in any material points differ from the following description of the plates, which was published some years before the editor saw or heard of the above paper.

PLATE I.

While the proud Earl of Rollo's royal race

Points to the peers his pompous parchment grace;

Builds all his honours on a noble name,

And on his father's deeds depends for fame;

The wary citizen, with heedful eye,

Inspects what's settled on posterity;

Pours out the pelf by rigid avarice pil'd,

To gain an empty title for his child.

In vain the pomp, in vain the gold,

Love cannot thus be bought and sold;

Such sordid motives he disdains,

Nor can be bound in Mammon's chains.

With cold contempt, disgust, and deadly hate,

The new-made wife regards her tawdry mate;

While he, Narcissus-like, with eager gaze,

Eyes those fine features which his glass displays,

In his own person centres all his pride,

And as his bride loves him, he loves his bride.

Like Satan, whispering in the ear of Eve

(By nature form'd to ruin and deceive),

A black-rob'd, smooth-tongued son of Belial see,

That would betray his Saviour for a fee;

With base, insidious smile, and tender air,

Bend o'er the inexperienc'd, thoughtless fair,

Assaying by his devilish art to reach

The organs of her fancy, and to teach

Pernicious, wicked tenets, that would taint

The pure chaste virgin or the hallowed saint;

Tenets of baneful, deadly, sinful dye,

That lead to shame, remorse, and infamy.—E.

It has been observed that woman, among savages, is a beast of burden; in the East, a piece of furniture; and in Europe, a spoiled child. Under the last denomination we may safely class the heroine of this history. She has all the pouting humours of a boarding-school girl. This alliance originated in her father wishing to aggrandize his family, and the sire of the Viscount wishing to clear his estate. These purposes answered, the two patriarchs troubled themselves no further. A similarity of disposition, or union of hearts, the nobleman considered as too vulgar an idea for a man of rank; and in the citizen's ledger of happiness there were no such items. Their dispositions are strongly marked by the different objects which engage their attention.

The portly nobleman, with the conscious dignity of high birth, displays his genealogical tree, the root of which is "William Duke of Normandy, and conqueror of England." The valour of his great progenitor, and the various merits of the collateral branches which dignify his pedigree, he considers as united in his own person, and therefore looks upon an alliance with his son as the acme of honour, the apex of exaltation. While he is thus glorying in the dust of which his ancestors were once compounded, the prudent citizen, who in return for it has parted with dust of a much more weighty and useful description, paying no regard to this heraldic blazonry, devotes all his attention to the marriage settlement. The haughty and supercilious Peer is absorbed in the contemplation of his illustrious ancestry, while the worshipful Alderman, regardless of the past, and considering the present as merely preparatory for the future, calculates what provision there will be for a young family. Engrossed by their favourite reflections, neither of these sagacious personages regards the want of attachment in those who are to be united as worthy a moment's consideration. To do the Viscount justice, he seems equally indifferent; for though evidently in love—it is with himself. Gazing in the mirror with delight,[1] and in an affected style displaying his gold snuff-box and glittering ring, he is quite a husband à la mode. The lady, very well disposed to retaliate, plays with her wedding-ring, and repays this chilling coldness with sullen contempt; her heart is not worth the Viscount's attention, and she determines to bestow it on the first suitor. An insidious lawyer, like an evil spirit ever ready to move or second a temptation, appears at her right hand. That he is an eloquent pleader, is intimated by his name, Counsellor Silvertongue: that he can make the worse appear the better cause, is only saying in other words that he is great in the profession. To predict that with such an advocate her virtue is in danger, would not be sufficiently expressive. His captivating tones and insinuating manners would have ensnared Lucretia.

Two dogs in a corner, coupled against their inclinations, are good emblems of the ceremony which is to pass.[2]

The ceiling of this magnificent apartment is decorated with the story of Pharaoh and his host drowned in the Red Sea. The ocean on a ceiling proves a projector's taste,[3] and attention to the costume; the sublimity of a painter is exemplified in the hero delineated with one of the attributes of Jove. This fluttering figure is probably intended for one of the Peer's high-born ancestors, and is invested with the Golden Fleece and some other foreign orders. To give him still greater dignity, he is in the character of Jupiter; while one hand holds up an ample robe, the other grasps a thunderbolt. A comet is taking its rapid course over his head; and in one corner of the picture two of the family of Boreas are judiciously blowing contrary ways. To some such supernatural cause we must attribute the drapery and long peruke flying in opposite directions. Immediately before him a cannon is represented in the moment of explosion: to leave the spectator no doubt of its being intended for serious business, and not as a mere feu-de-joie, the ball is seen in its progress. All this is ridiculous enough, but not an iota more absurd than many of the French portraits which Hogarth evidently intended to burlesque by this parody.[4] Their painters have mistaken extravagance for spirit, and violence for freedom. Fine as are many of their engravings, they frequently give us lines that resemble the flourishes of a writing-master more than the free strokes of an artist.

In the painting which represents Goliah slain by David, the gigantic Philistine is stretched on the earth, and, in truth, appears to cover many a rood. Beneath is the merciful Judith: one hand grasps the sword with which she decollated Holofernes, and the other rests upon his bleeding head. The adjoining picture exhibits a view of St. Sebastian pierced with arrows, and that on the other side of the room displays Prometheus and the vulture; beneath is a representation of Cain slaying Abel. St. Lawrence upon the gridiron is placed under a painting of Herod's cruelty. As the ornament of a chandelier, over the sofa on which the hymeneal pair are seated, is a relievo of Medusa's head; both this and other agreeable subjects may possibly have some covert allusions, but to me they are not obvious.

Hogarth's leading object in them all seems to be a ridicule of those who gave these barbarous delineations a preference to his own paintings.

The self-important consequence of the noble inhabitant of this mansion is displayed in every part of his furniture. The coronet glitters not only upon the canopy, but the crutches; is mounted upon the frame of the mirror, and marked on the side of the dog.

Mr. Nichols observes, that "among such little circumstances as might escape the notice of a careless spectator, is the thief in the candle, emblematical of the mortgage on his lordship's estate."—As the mortgage is now paying, one thinks the thief might have been spared. The artist, however, might mean to intimate that his lordship's estate was run to waste by the negligence and carelessness of the proprietor. The same commentator properly remarks that the unfinished edifice seems at a stand for want of money, no workman appearing on the scaffolds, or near them; and adds, that a number of figures which are before the building were designed for "the lazy vermin of his lordship's hall, who, having nothing else to do, are sitting on the blocks of stone, or staring at the building."

The characters in this print are admirably marked. Nothing can be better contrasted than the cautious, calculating countenance of the Alderman, and the haughty overbearing air of the Peer. To this may be added the stare of the Serjeant, astonished at so magnificent an edifice, and the cunning craft of the Usurer delivering up the mortgage.

The plate was engraved by G. Scotin, and published April 1, 1745.

PLATE II.

Behold how Vice her votary rewards,

After a night of folly, frolic, cards,

The phantom pleasure flies,—and in its place

Comes deep remorse and torturing disgrace,

Corroding care, and self-accusing shame,

A ruin'd fortune, and a blighted fame.—E.

MARRIAGE A LA MODE. PLATE II.

Wearied, languid, and spiritless from the dissipations of the night, with his sword broken in a riotous frolic, the modish Viscount comes home at noon, and finds his lady just arisen, and seated en déshabillé at her matin meal. From the melancholy cast of his countenance, and both hands being in his pockets, we may infer that he has been unsuccessful at the gaming-table. A cap and riband, which hang out of his coat pocket, lead us to suppose that part of his night has been passed in the company of a female; and from the attention a dog pays to the cap, we are led to suspect that he may have originally belonged to the lady who is its proprietor.

The Viscountess[5] has been contemplating her face in a pocket-mirror, and is scarcely recovered from the fatigue of a rout, which by the cards, instruments, and music book on the floor, we conclude to have been the preceding night's amusement.[6]

An ungartered servant, who is yawning in the background, pays little attention to his master or mistress, and is totally regardless of a chair, which is in great danger from the blaze of an expiring candle; this, with those left burning in the sockets since the conclusion of their nocturnal revelry, must give a pleasing perfume to the breakfast-room.

The old steward's attitude and countenance clearly indicate that he foresees the gulf into which an united torrent of dissipation will inevitably plunge this infatuated pair. He has brought a great number of bills for payment: to one, and only one, is a receipt, which, being dated January 4, 1744, determines the time when vulgar tradesmen are extremely troublesome to men of rank.

Of the paintings in this stately saloon, that of which we see only a part is properly concealed by a curtain. The four cartoons, very judiciously placed in the same line, are, I believe, intended for the four evangelists. Next to that which is opposite the chandelier is a faint representation of another picture. The lines are ambiguous, but seem intended to represent a ship in a storm: a very proper emblem of the wreck which is likely to succeed the negligence and dissipation of this noble family. A marble head, in a cut wig, perhaps intended for one of the Cæsars, with the nose broken, to show that it is a genuine antique, decorates the centre of the chimney-piece. In most of the other grotesque and fantastic ornaments,

"Gay china's unsubstantial forms supply

The place of beauty, strength, simplicity;

Each varied colour of the brightest hue,

The green, the red, the yellow, and the blue,

In every part the dazzled eyes behold,

Here streak'd with silver, there enrich'd with gold."

A painting over the chimney-piece represents Cupid playing upon the bagpipes. Both subject and frame prove the classical taste of the proprietor. The ornaments round a clock are equally elegant and peculiarly appropriate. It is encompassed by a kind of grove, with a cat on the summit and a Chinese pagoda at the bottom. If the branches were tenanted by the feathered tribe, it would be no more than we see every day; it would be vulgar nature. To make it uncommonly grand, and peculiarly magnifique, they are occupied by two fishes.[7]

The crowned chandelier, candlesticks, chairs, footstool, chimney-piece, and grate, are evidently made from the designs of William Kent.[8] To that fashionable architect they are indebted for the plan of the stupendous saloon, which has an air of grandeur and magnificence that is not often seen in Mr. Hogarth's works. It produces such a sensation as Pope describes on seeing Timon's villa, "Where all cry out, what sums are thrown away!"

This plate was engraved by Baron, but the old steward's face is, I think, marked by the burin of Hogarth.

PLATE III.

"To Galen's great descendant list,—oh list!

Behold a surgeon, sage, anatomist,

Mechanic, antiquarian, seer, collector,

Physician, barber, bone-setter, dissector.

The sextons, registers, and tombstones tell,

By his prescriptions, what an army fell;

Med'cines—by him compos'd will stop the breath,

And every pill is fraught with certain death."[9]—E.

MARRIAGE A LA MODE. PLATE III.

This has been said to be the most obscure delineation that Hogarth ever published: how far the short explanation copied from Mr. Lane's papers may contribute to sanction my previous description, I do not presume to judge. Hitherto there have certainly been many different opinions as to the meaning of this print, and Churchill is said to have asserted, that from its appearing so ambiguous to him, he once requested Hogarth to explain it, but that the artist, like many other commentators, left his subject as obscure as he found it. "From this circumstance," added the poet, "I am convinced he formed his tale upon the ideas of Hoadley, Garrick, Townley, or some other friend, and never perfectly comprehended what it meant."

How it was possible for Hoadley, Garrick, and Townley, or any other friend, to furnish Hogarth with ideas to compose the third plate of an historical series, I cannot comprehend.

I can suppose it possible that the artist might not choose to explain to Churchill what he himself thought obvious, and therefore declined giving him any explanation. I can suppose that, admirably as Hogarth told a story with his pencil, he might not be qualified to express his verbal meaning with equal accuracy, and therefore be misunderstood; but, above all, I can suppose it not only possible, but probable, that this bitter satirist, making the declaration after the publication of "Wilkes' Portrait," "The Bruiser," and "The Times," might, from resentment to the artist, be provoked to give a poetical colouring to the story about the "Marriage à la Mode."

I think it must be considered as a sort of episode, no further connected with the main subject than as it exhibits the consequences of an alliance entered into from sordid and unworthy motives. In the two preceding prints the hero and heroine of this tragedy show a fashionable indifference towards each other. On the part of the Viscount, we see no indication of any wish to conciliate the affections of his lady. Careless of her conduct, and negligent of her fame, he leaves her to superintend the musical dissipations of his house, and lays the scene of his own licentious amusements abroad. The female heart is naturally susceptible, and much influenced by first impressions. Formed for love, and gratefully attached by delicate attentions; but chilled by neglect, and frozen by coldness,—by contempt it is estranged, and by habitual and long-continued inconstancy sometimes lost.

To show that our unfortunate victim to parental ambition has suffered this mortifying climax of provocation, the artist has made a digression, and exhibited her profligate husband attending a quack doctor. In the last plate he appears to have dissipated his fortune; in this he has injured his health. From the hour of marriage he has neglected the woman to whom he plighted his troth. Can we wonder at her conduct? By the Viscount she was despised; by the Counsellor adored. This insidious, insinuating villain, we may naturally suppose acquainted with every part of the nobleman's conduct, and artful enough to make a proper advantage of his knowledge. From such an agent the Countess would probably learn how her lord was connected: from his subtle suggestions, being aided by resentment, she is tempted to think that these accumulated insults have dissolved the marriage vow, and given her a right to retaliate. Thus impelled, thus irritated, and attended by such an advocate, can we wonder that this fair unfortunate deserted from the standard of honour, and sought refuge in the camp of infamy? To her husband many of her errors must be attributed. She saw he despised her, and therefore hated him; found that he had bestowed his affections on another, and followed his example. To show the consequence of his unrestrained wanderings, the author, in this plate, exhibits his hero in the house of one of those needy empirics who play upon public credulity, and vend poisons under the name of drugs. This quack being family surgeon to the old procuress who stands at his right hand, formerly attended the young girl, and received his fee as having recovered his patient. That he was paid for what he did not perform, appears by the countenance of the enraged nobleman, who lifts up his cane in a threatening style, accompanying the action with a promise to bastinado both surgeon and procuress for having deceived him by a false bill of health. These menaces our natural son of Æsculapius treats with that careless nonchalance which shows that his ears are accustomed to such sounds; but the haggard high priestess of the temple of Venus,[10] tenacious of her good name, and tremblingly alive to any aspersion which may tend to injure her professional reputation, unclasps her knife, determined to wash out this foul stain upon her honour with the blood of her accuser.

The nick-nackitory collection that forms this motley museum is exactly described by Doctor Garth; one would almost think Hogarth made the dispensary his model in designing the print.

"Here mummies lie, most reverently stale,

And there, the tortoise hung her coat of mail:

Not far from some huge shark's devouring head,

The flying fish their finny pinions spread;

Aloft, in rows, large poppy-heads were strung,

And near, a scaly alligator hung:

In this place, drugs in musty heaps decay'd,

In that, dry'd bladders and drawn teeth were laid."

An horn of the sea unicorn is so placed as to give the idea of a barber's pole; this, with the pewter basin and broken comb, clearly indicate the former profession of our mock doctor. The high-crowned hat and antique spur, which might once have been the property of Butler's redoubted knight, the valiant Hudibras, with a model of the gallows, and sundry nondescript rarities, show us that this great man, if not already a member of the Antiquarian Society, is qualifying himself to be a candidate. The dried body[11] in the glass-case, placed between a skeleton and the sage's wig-block, form a trio that might serve as the symbol of a consultation of physicians. A figure above the mummies seems at first sight to be decorated with a flowing periwig, but on a close inspection will be found intended for one of Sir John Mandeville's anthropophagi, a sort of men "whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders." Even the skulls have character; and the principal mummy has so majestic an aspect, that one is almost tempted to believe it the mighty Cheops, king of Egypt, whose body was certainly to be known, being the only one entombed in the large pyramid.[12]

By two machines, constructed upon the most complicated principles, though intended for performing very simple operations, we discover that our quack studies mechanics. On one of them lies a folio treatise descriptive of their uses; by which we are informed that the largest is to reduce a dislocated limb, the smallest is to draw a cork!—each of them invented by Monsieur De la Pilulæ, and inspected and approved by the Royal Academy of Paris.

PLATE IV.

The new-made Countess treads enchanted ground,

And madly whirls in pleasure's airy round;

From Circe's cup delicious poison quaffs,

And, drunk with pomp, at cold discretion laughs.

While the soft warbling of a senseless song,

Pour'd from a neutral nothing,[13] charms the throng;

To love's fond tale the fair her ear inclines,

To Satan's agent all her soul resigns.

Beware his soft insidious smiles,

Fly from his glance, and shun his wiles;

Avoid the serpent's poisonous breath,

'Tis fraught with infamy and death.—E.

MARRIAGE A LA MODE. PLATE IV.

By the old Peer's death our fair heroine has attained the summit of her wishes, and become a Countess. Intoxicated by this elevation, and vain of her new dignity, she ranges through the whole circle of frivolous amusements, and treads every maze of fashionable dissipation. Her excesses are rendered still more criminal by the consequent neglect of domestic duties; for, by the coral on the back of her chair, we are led to suppose that she is a mother. Her morning levee is crowded with persons of rank, and attended by her paramour, and that contemptible shadow of man, an Italian singer, with whose dulcet notes two of our right honourable group seem in the highest degree enraptured. This bloated animal, carelessly and consequentially leaning back in his chair, is dressed in a richly embroidered coat, and every finger is loaded with a diamond. Though in a morning, his solitaire, kneebands, and shoes are decorated with gems.[14] He is quavering,

"The seeming echo of what once was song,

Sweet by defect, and impotently strong."

That our extravagant Countess purchased the pipe of this expensive exotic in mere compliance to the fashion of the day, without any real taste for his mellifluous warblings, is intimated by the absorbed attention which she pays to the Advocate, who, with the luxuriant indolent grace of an Eastern effendi, is lolling on a sofa at her right hand. By his pointing to the folding screen, on which is delineated a masquerade revel,[15] at the same time that he shows his infatuated inamorato a ticket of admission, we see that they are making an assignation for the evening. The fatal consequences of their unfortunate meeting is displayed in the two succeeding plates. A Swiss servant, who is dressing her hair, has all the grimace of his country; he is the complete Canton of the Clandestine Marriage. The contemptuous leer of a black footman, serving chocolate, is evidently directed to the singer, and forms an admirable contrast to the die-away lady seated before him,[16] who, lost to every sense but that of hearing, is exalted to the third heaven by the enchanting song of this pampered Italian. On the country gentleman,[17] with a whip in his hand, it has quite a different effect; with the echoing "Tally ho!" he would be exhilarated; by the soft sounds of Italia, his soul is lulled to rest. The fine feeling creature, with a fan suspended from its wrist, is marked with that foolish face of praise which understands nothing, but admires everything that it is the ton to admire! The taper supporters of Monsieur en papillote are admirably opposed to the lumbering pedestals of our mummy of music. The figure behind him[18] blows a flute with every muscle of his face. A little black boy in the opposite corner, examining a collection of grotesque china ornaments which have been purchased at the sale of Esquire Timothy Babyhouse, pays great attention to a figure of Acteon, and with a very significant leer points to his horns. Under a delineation of Jupiter and Leda, on a china dish, is written, "Julio Romano!" The fantastic group of hydras, gorgons, and chimeras dire, which lie near it, are an admirable specimen of the absurd and shapeless monsters which disgraced our drawing-rooms until the introduction of Etrurian ornaments. By the fantastic decorations upon a chimney-piece in the second plate, we saw that our fashionable pair had a taste, and this taste may have been one source of their embarrassments. Another of their follies which, when gaming is united to it, will level their lofty forests and lay their proudest mansions in the dust, is displayed in the cards of invitation scattered on the floor. They afford a good specimen of polite literature, and the writers deserve a niche in the catalogue of royal and noble authors. The list follows:—

"Count Basset desire to no how Lady Squander sleep last nite."

"Lord Squander's company is desired at Lady Townley's drum. Monday next."

"Lady Squander's company is desired at Miss Hairbrain's rout."

"Lady Squander's company is desired at Lady Heathen's drum-major. Sunday next."

The pictures in this dressing-room are well suited to the profligate proprietor, and may be further intended as a burlesque on the strange and grossly indelicate subjects so frequently painted by ancient masters: Lot and his daughters; Ganymede and the Eagle;[19] Jupiter and Io; and a portrait of the young Lawyer, who is the favourite—the cicisbeo—or more properly, the seducer of the Countess.

This print was engraved by Ravenet, who has preserved the characters.

PLATE V.

Her dream of dissipation o'er,

The bubble pleasure charms no more;

The spell dissolv'd—broken the chain,

Reason too late resumes her reign.—

In vain the tear and contrite sigh,

In vain the poignant agony.—

Henceforth—thy portion is despair,

Remorse, and deep corroding care;

Misery!—to madness near allied,

And ignominious suicide,

Thy minion's meed, by law's decree,

Is death—a death of infamy!—E.

MARRIAGE A LA MODE. PLATE V.

Our exasperated Peer, suspecting his wife's infidelity, follows her in disguise to the masquerade, and from thence traces these two votaries of vice to a bagnio. Finding they are retired to a bedroom, he bursts open the door, and attacks the spoiler of his honour with a drawn sword. Too much irritated to be prudent, and too violent to be cautious, he thinks only of revenge; and, making a furious thrust at the Counsellor, neglects his own guard, and is mortally wounded. The miscreant who had basely destroyed his peace and deprived him of life is not bold enough to meet the consequences. Destitute of that courage which is the companion of virtue, and possessing no spark of that honour which ought to distinguish the gentleman; dreading the avenging hand of offended justice, he makes a mean and precipitate retreat. Leaving him to the fate which awaits him, let us return to the deluded Countess. Feeling some pangs from a recollection of her former conduct, some touches of shame at her detection, and a degree of horror at the fate of her husband, she kneels at his feet, and entreats forgiveness.

"Some contrite tears she shed."

There is reason to fear that they flow from regret at the detection rather than remorse for the crime; a woman vitiated in the vortex of dissipation is not likely to feel that ingenuous shame which accompanies a good mind torn by the consciousness of having deviated from the path of virtue.

Alarmed at the noise occasioned by this fatal rencontre, the inmates of the brothel called a watchman: accompanied by a constable, this nocturnal guardian is ushered into the room by the master of the house, whose meagre and trembling figure is well opposed to the consequential magistrate of the night. The watchman's lantern we see over their heads, but the bearer knows his duty is to follow his superiors; conscious that though the front may be a post of honour, yet in a service of danger the rear is a station of safety.

Immediately over the door is a picture of St. Luke; this venerable apostle being a painter, is so delineated that he seems looking at the scene now passing, and either making a sketch or a record of the transaction. On the hangings is a lively representation of Solomon's wise judgment.[20] The countenance of the sapient monarch is not sagacious, but his attitude is in an eminent degree dignified, and his air commanding and regal. He really looks like a tyrant in old tapestry; and the arm of a chair is ornamented by a carving fraught with that terrific grace peculiar to the ancient masters. We cannot say that the Hebrew women who attend for judgment are either comely or fair to look upon. Were not the scene laid in Jerusalem, they might pass for two of the silver-toned Naiades of our own Billingsgate.

The grisly guards, with faces all awry,

Like Herod's hang-dogs in old tapestry:

Each man an Askapart, with strength to toss

For quoits, both Temple-bar and Charing-cross.

The grisly guards have a most rueful and tremendous appearance. The attractive portrait of a Drury Lane Diana,[21] with a butcher's steel in one hand and a squirrel perched on the other, is hung in such a situation that the Herculean pedestals of a Jewish soldier may be supposed to be a delineation of her legs continued below the frame.

Our Counsellor's mask lies on the floor, and grins horribly, as if conscious of the fatal catastrophe. Dominoes, shoes, etc., scattered around the room, show the negligence of the ill-fated Countess, unattended by her femme de chambre. From a faggot and the shadow of a pair of tongs, we may infer that there is a fire in the room.[22] A bill near them implies that this elegant apartment is at the Turk's Head bagnio.

The dying agony of the Earl (whose face is evidently retouched by Hogarth), the eager entreaty of the Countess, the terror of mine host, and the vulgar inflected dignity of Mr. Constable, are admirably discriminated.

I have stated in the former editions that the background of this plate was engraved by Ravenet's wife, but am since informed by Mr. Charles Grignion, the engraver, that this is a mistake. See vol. iii. of this work.

PLATE VI.

Forlorn, degraded, and distrest,

The furies tear her tortur'd breast.

Remorse, with agonizing sigh,

And sullen shame with downcast eye;

Anguish,—by cold reflection fed,

And wan despair, and trembling dread,

In guise terrific hover round,

And ring the knell of thrilling sound.

Scar'd Reason totters on her throne,

And Hope is fled!—and Peace is gone.

Shuddering at phantoms ever in her sight,

Hating the garish sun, and trembling at the night;

To poison,—sad resort! she frantic flies,

And, self-destroy'd, the wretched Countess dies!—E.

MARRIAGE A LA MODE. PLATE VI.

The last sad scene of our unfortunate heroine's life is in the house of her father, to which she had returned after her husband's death. The law could not consider her as the primary cause of his murder; but consciousness of her own guilt was more severe punishment than that could have inflicted. This, added to her father's reproaches, and the taunts of those who were once her friends, renders society hateful, and solitude insupportable. Wounded in every feeling, tortured in every nerve, and seeing no prospect of a period to her misery, she takes the horrid resolution of ending all her calamities by poison.

"Dreadful deed, unbidden thus

To rush into the presence of her Judge,

And challenge vengeance. 'Tis said

Unheard-of tortures are reserved

For murderers of themselves. They herd together:

The common damn'd shun their society,

As fiends too foul for converse."

Dreadful as is this resolve, she puts it in execution by bribing the servant of her father to procure her a dose of laudanum. Close to the vial, which lies on the floor, Hogarth has judiciously placed Counsellor Silvertongue's last dying speech, thus intimating that he also has suffered the punishment he justly merited.[23] The records of their fate being thus situated, seems to imply, that as they were united in vice, they are companions in the consequences. These two terrific and monitory testimonies are a kind of propitiatory sacrifice to the manes of her injured and murdered lord.

Her avaricious father, seeing his daughter at the point of death, and knowing the value of her diamond ring, determined to secure this glittering gem from the depredations of the old nurse, coolly draws it from her finger. This little circumstance shows a prominent feature of his mind. Every sense of feeling absorbed in extreme avarice, he seems at this moment calculating how many carats the brilliants weigh.

From a gown hung up near the clock we know him to be an alderman; and from his sleek appearance, we have some right to infer that he is constant in his attendance at city feasts, for so comely a countenance could never be supported by the scanty and meagre viands of his own table. His domestic care is intimated by the gaunt and hungry appearance of a dog, who, taking advantage of this general confusion, seizes the brawn's head.[24]

A rickety child, heir to the complaints of its father, shows some tenderness for its expiring mother; and the grievous whine of an old nurse is most admirably described. These are the only two of the party who exhibit any marks of sorrow for the death of our wretched Countess. The smug apothecary, indeed, displays some symptoms of vexation at his patient dying before she has taken his julap, the label of which hangs out of his pocket. Her constitution, though impaired by grief, promised to have lasted long enough for him to have marked many additional dittos in his day-book. Pointing to the dying speech, he threatens the terrified footboy with a punishment similar to that of the Counsellor for having bought the laudanum. The fellow protests his innocence, and promises never more to be guilty of a like offence. The effects of fear on an ignorant rustic cannot be better delineated; nor is it easy to conceive a more ludicrous figure than this awkward retainer, dressed in an old full-trimmed coat, which in its better days had been the property of his master. By the physician retreating, we are led to conceive that, finding his patient had dared to quit the world in an irregular way, neither abiding by his prescriptions nor waiting for his permission, he cast an indignant frown on all present, and exclaimed in style heroic,

" 'Fellow, our hat!'—no more he deign'd to say,

But stern as Ajax' spectre, stalk'd away."

The leathern buckets immediately over the Doctor's head were, previous to the introduction of fire-engines, considered as proper furniture for a merchant's hall. Every ornament in his parlour is highly and exactly appropriate to the man. The style of his pictures, his clock, a cobweb over the window, repaired chair, nay, the very form of his hat, are characteristic. A silver cup upon the table, and jug on the floor, show us his style of living. The scantiness of his own table is well contrasted by the plenty exhibited in the picture over the old nurse's head, where iron pots, brass pans, cabbages, and lanterns, are indiscriminately huddled together, with no other meaning than to show how highly a Flemish artist could finish. The attic delicacy of this patient and laborious school is displayed in the adjoining picture; and their humour, in that of a fellow wittily lighting his tobacco-pipe by the red nose of his companion.[25] The pipe and bottle placed under the day-book and ledger, and the whole crowned by a broken punch-bowl, intimate that this venerable gentleman united business with pleasure. The view through an open window marks the situation of our plodding merchant's house to be near London Bridge, and represents that absurd and ill-contrived structure in its original state, loaded with houses. A clock points the hour to be a little after eleven, which at this highly polished and refined period would be deemed an early hour for a citizen's breakfast; at that, it was his hour of dinner!

Thus has our moral dramatist concluded his tragedy, and brought his heroine from dissipation and vice to misery and shame, terminating her existence by suicide!

The drama of Shakspeare has been said to be the mirror of life, which to-day we see lighted up with gaiety, and to-morrow clouded with sorrow. Shakspeare had the power of exciting laughter or grief, not only in one mind, but in one composition. That Hogarth had the same power, and exerted it with the same disdain of the little cavils of little minds, is evinced in this series of prints; from the study of which, a peasant, who has never strayed beyond the precincts of his own cottage, may calculate the consequences of dissipation; and he who has lived secluded from society, may form an estimate of the value of riches and high birth when abused by prodigality or degraded by vice.

In the year 1746 was published a coarse and vulgar poem, in doggerel verse, with the following title: "Marriage à la Mode, an humorous tale in six cantos, in Hudibrastic verse, being an Explanation of the six Prints lately published by the ingenious Mr. Hogarth. London, printed for Weaver Bickerton, in Temple Exchange Passage, Fleet Street. Price One Shilling."

The Clandestine Marriage is professedly formed upon the model of these prints.

THE FOUR STAGES OF CRUELTY.

"The poorest beetle that we tread upon,

In corporal sufferance feels a pang as great

As when a giant dies."

This pathetic lesson of humanity is given by the poet of nature. Aiming at the same end by different means, our benevolent artist here steps forth as the instructor of youth, the friend to mercy, and advocate of the brute creation.

In the prints before us, an obdurate boy begins his career of cruelty by tormenting animals; repeated acts of barbarity sear his heart, he commits a deliberate murder, and concludes in an ignominious death. These gradations are natural, I had almost said inevitable; and that parent who discovers the germ of barbarity in the mind of a child, and does not use every effort to exterminate the noxious weed, is an accessory to the evils which spring from its baneful growth. To check these malign propensities becomes more necessary from the general tendency of our amusements. Most of our rural and even infantine sports are savage and ferocious. They arise from the terror, misery, or death of helpless animals. A child in the nursery is taught to impale butterflies and cockchafers. The schoolboy's proud delight is clambering a tree

"To rob the poor bird of its young."

Grown a gentle angler, he snares the scaly fry, and scatters leaden death among the feathered tenants of the air. Ripened to man, he becomes a mighty hunter, is enamoured of the chase, and crimsons his spurs in the sides of a generous courser, whose wind he breaks in the pursuit of an inoffensive deer or timid hare.

Many of our town diversions have the same tendency. The bird, whose melodious warblings echo through the grove, is imprisoned in a sort of a Bastille, where, like an unplumed biped in a similar situation, it frequently perishes through anguish or want of food. The high-crested chanticleer, whose courage is innate, and only vanquished by death, is furnished with weapons of pointed steel, when, set in opposition to one of the same species, armed in a similar style, these two champions, for the diversion of the humane lords of the creation, lacerate each other until one or both of them are slain.

The faithful dog, whose attachment and gratitude are exemplary, and worthy the imitation of man, when in the possession of a farmer, or country 'squire, is well fed, and has no great cause of complaint, except his ears and tail being lopped to improve nature, and having a rib now and then broken by a gentle spurn; but if the poor quadruped falls into the hands of a tanner, a surgeon, or an experimental philosopher, of what avail are his good qualities?[26]

The Abyssinian cruelties of our slaughter-houses[27] and kitchens[28] I do not wish to enumerate. The catalogue would fill a volume. Humanity demands that the brute creation should be protected by the Legislature.

The Mosaic Law, to guard against tortures being inflicted on animals which were slaughtered for sustenance, ordained them to die by a highly polished and pointed instrument; if the bone was pierced, or the beast mangled, it was deemed unclean, and burnt.

FIRST STAGE OF CRUELTY.

"While various scenes of sportive woe

The infant race employ;

And tortur'd victims bleeding, show

The tyrant in the boy.

"Behold a youth of gentler heart!

To spare the creature's pain,

O take, he cries—take all my tart,

But tears and tart are vain.

"Learn from this fair example, you

Who savage sports delight,

How cruelty disgusts the view,

While pity charms the sight."

FIRST STAGE OF CRUELTY.

Let us suppose a disciple of Pythagoras to contemplate this print, how would it affect him? He would imagine it to represent a group of young barbarians qualifying themselves for executioners; would raise his voice to Heaven, and thank the God of mercy that he is not an inhabitant of such a country; would lament that these degenerate little beings should not have been informed that the animals on whom they are now inflicting such tortures, might, previous to transmigration, have been their fathers, brothers, friends.

The delineation of such scenes must shock every feeling heart, and their enumeration disgust every humane mind. I hope, for the honour of our nature and our nation, that they are not so frequently practised as when these prints were published.

The hero of this tragic tale is Tom Nero: by a badge upon his arm, we know him to be one of the boys of St. Giles' Charity School. The horrible business in which he is engaged was, I hope and believe, never realized in this or any other country. The thought is taken from Callot's "Temptation of St. Anthony." A youth of superior rank, shocked at such cruelty, offers his tart to redeem the dog from torture. This Hogarth intended for the portrait of an illustrious personage, then about thirteen years of age; the compliment was rather coarse, but well intended. A lad chalking on a wall the suspended figure, inscribed Tom Nero, prepares us for the future fate of this young tyrant, and shows by anticipation the reward of cruelty.

Throwing at cocks might possibly have its origin in what some of our sagacious politicians call a natural enmity to France, which is thus humanely exercised against the allegorical symbol of that nation. A boy tying a bone to the tail of his dog, while the kind-hearted animal licks his hand, must have a most diabolical disposition.[29] Two little imps are burning out the eyes of a bird with a knitting-needle. A group of embryotic Domitians, who have tied two cats to the extremities of a rope and hung it over a lamp-iron, to see how delightfully they will tear each other, are marked with grim delight. The link-boy is absolutely a Lilliputian fiend. The fellow encouraging a dog to worry a cat, and two animals of the same species thrown out of a garret window with bladders fastened to them, completes this mortifying prospect of youthful depravity.