CONSISTING OF

ENGRAVED HEADPIECES FOR RECEIPTS, ETC.

REHEARSAL OF THE ORATORIO OF JUDITH.

The oratorio of Judith was written by Esquire William Huggins,[176] honoured by the music of William de Fesch, aided by new painted scenery and magnifique decoration, and in the year 1733 brought upon the stage. As De Fesch[177] was a German and a genius, we may fairly presume it was well set; and there was at that time, as at this, a sort of musical mania, that paid much greater attention to sounds than to sense. Notwithstanding all these points in her favour, when the Jewish heroine had made her theatrical dÉbut, and so effectually smote Holofernes,

the audience compelled her to make her exit. To set aside this partial and unjust decree, Mr. Huggins appealed to the public, and printed[178] his oratorio. Though it was adorned with a frontispiece designed by Hogarth and engraved by Vandergucht, the world could not be compelled to read, and the unhappy writer had no other resource than the consolatory reflection, that his work was superlatively excellent, but unluckily printed in a tasteless age:[179] a comfortable and solacing self-consciousness, which hath, I verily believe, prevented many a great genius from becoming his own executioner.

To paint a sound is impossible; but as far as art can go towards it, Mr. Hogarth has gone in this print. The tenor, treble, and bass of these ear-piercing choristers are so decisively discriminated, that we all but hear them.

The principal figure, whose head, hands, and feet are in equal agitation, has very properly tied on his spectacles; it would have been prudent to have tied on his periwig also, for by the energy of his action he has shaken it from his head, and, absorbed in an eager attention to true time, is totally unconscious of his loss.

A gentleman—pardon me, I meant a singer—in a bag-wig, immediately beneath his uplifted hand, I suspect to be of foreign growth. It has the engaging air of an importation from Italy.

The little figure in the sinister corner is, it seems, intended for a Mr. Tothall, a woollen-draper, who lived in Tavistock Court, and was Hogarth's intimate friend.

The name of the performer on his right hand,

I cannot learn; nor do I think that this group were meant for particular portraits, but a general representation of the violent distortions into which these crotchet-mongers draw their features on such solemn occasions.

Even the head of the bass viol has air and character: by the band under the chin, it gives some idea of a professor,[180] or what is I think called a Mus. D.

The words now singing, "The world shall bow to the Assyrian throne," are extracted from Mr. Huggins' oratorio; the etching is in a most masterly style, and was originally given as a subscription-ticket to "The Modern Midnight Conversation."

I have seen a small political print on Sir Robert Walpole's administration, entitled, Excise, a new Ballad Opera, of which this was unquestionably the basis. Beneath it is the following learned and poetical motto:

ET PLURIMA MORTIS IMAGO.

THE COMPANY OF UNDERTAKERS,

"Beareth sable, an urinal proper, between twelve quack heads of the second, and twelve cane heads OR, consultant. On a chief[181] nebulÆ,[182] ermine, one complete doctor[183] issuant checkie, sustaining in his right hand a baton of the second. On his dexter and sinister side, two demi-doctors, issuant of the second, and two cane heads issuant of the third: the first having one eye couchant, towards the dexter side of the escutcheon; the second faced per pale proper, and gules guardant, with this motto, 'Et plurima mortis imago.'"

It has been said of the ancients, that they began by attempting to make physic a science, and failed; of the moderns, that they began by attempting to make it a trade, and succeeded. This company are moderns to a man; and if we may judge of their capacities by their countenances, are indeed a most sapient society. Their practice is very extensive, and they go about taking guineas,

Many of them are unquestionably portraits;[184] but as these grave and sage descendants of Galen are long since gone to that place where they before sent their patients, I am unable to ascertain any of them, except the three who are for distinction placed in the chief or most honourable part of the escutcheon. Those whom, from their exalted situation, we may naturally conclude the most distinguished and sagacious leeches of their day, have marks too obtrusive to be mistaken. He towards the dexter side of the escutcheon is determined by an eye in the head of his cane to be the all-accomplished Chevalier Taylor,[185] in whose marvellous and surprising history, written by his own hand, and published in 1761, is recorded such events relative to himself and others[186] as have excited more astonishment than that incomparable romance, Don Belianis of Greece, the Arabian Nights, or Sir John Mandeville his Travels.

The centre figure, arrayed in a harlequin jacket, with a bone, or what the painter denominates a baton, in the right hand, is generally considered designed for Mrs. Mapp, a masculine woman, daughter to one Wallin, a bone-setter at Hindon, in Wiltshire. This female Thalestris, incompatible as it may seem with her sex, adopted her father's profession, travelled about the country, calling herself crazy Sally; and like another Hercules, did wonders by strength of arm! An old gentleman, who knew this lady, assures me, that notwithstanding all the unkind things which her medical brethren said of her ignorance, etc., she was entitled to an equal portion of professional praise with many of those who decried her; for not more than nineteen out of twenty of her patients died under her hands.

The Grub Street Journal, and some other papers of that day, are crowded with paragraphs[189] relative to her cures and her consequence.

On the sinister side is Doctor Ward, generally called Spot Ward, from his left cheek being marked with a claret colour. This gentleman was of a respectable family,[191] and though not highly educated, had talents very superior to either of his coadjutors.

For the chief, this must suffice; as for the twelve quack heads and twelve cane heads OR, consultant, united with the cross-bones at the corners, they have a most mortuary appearance, and do indeed convey a general image of death.

In the time of Lucian, a philosopher was distinguished by three things: his avarice, his impudence, and his beard. In the time of Hogarth, medicine was a mystery,[192] and there were three things which distinguished the physician: his gravity, his cane head, and his periwig. With these leading requisites, this venerable party are most amply gifted. To specify every character is not necessary; but the upper figure on the dexter side, with a wig like a weeping willow, should not be overlooked. His lemon-like aspect must curdle the blood of all his patients. In the countenances of his brethren there is no want of acids; but however sour each individual was in his day—

Ward, Taylor, and Mapp were considered as a proper trio by other persons besides Hogarth: some lines beginning as follows, were written about the latter end of 1736:—

GROUP OF HEADS

INTENDED TO DISPLAY THE DIFFERENCE BETWIXT CHARACTER AND CARICATURE.

For a further explanation of this difference, see the Preface to Joseph Andrews.[194]

"In Lairesse; still more in Poussin; and most of all in Raphael; simplicity, greatness of conception, tranquillity, superiority, sublimity the most exalted! Raphael can never be enough studied, although he only exercised his mind on the rarest forms, the grandest traits of countenance.

"In Hogarth, alas, how little of the noble, how little of beauteous expression, is to be found in this, I had almost said, false prophet of beauty! But what an immense treasure of features, of meanness in excess, vulgarity the most disgusting, humour the most irresistible, and vice the most unmanly!"—Lavater's Essays on Physiognomy.

In this rhapsody there is some truth; but the philosopher of Zurich should have recollected that Hogarth could not be expected to attain what he never attempted. Sublimity exalted, simplicity angelic, and the ideal grandeur of superior beings, he left to those who delineated subjects which demanded such characters; and contented himself with representing Nature, not as it ought to be, but as he found it. That he had little reverence for the dreams of those who portrayed imaginary beings, I have had occasion to remark; but that he respected their waking thoughts is evinced in this print, where the heads of three figures from Raphael's Cartoons are introduced under the article character, in opposition to the fantastic caricatures of Cavalier Chezze, Annibal Characi,[195] and Leonard da Vinci: the last of whom, I am very sorry to see so classed; for to his anatomical knowledge the late Dr. Hunter gave the strongest testimony, by declaring his intention to publish a volume illustrated by the designs of this artist, as anatomical studies.

I have often seen three engravings from the same picture, by an Italian, an English, and a French artist, which, with a tolerable correctness of outline, have in their general characters a dissimilarity that is astonishing. Each engraver gives his national air. The three heads from Raphael, at the bottom of this print, are etched by Hogarth, and sufficiently marked to determine the master from whence they are copied; but their grandeur, elevation, and simplicity is totally evaporated.

With angels, apostles, and saints, he was not happy. In the group placed above them he has been more successful. Hogarth was less of a mannerist than almost any other artist; for though there are above a hundred profiles, I discover no copy from another painter; no repetition of his own works: they are all delineated from nature, and the most careless observer must discover many resemblances: to the physiognomist, they are an inexhaustible study.

This print was given as a subscription-ticket to the six plates of "Marriage À la Mode."

SARAH MALCOLM.

Executed opposite Mitre Court, Fleet Street, on the 7th of March 1733, for the murder of Mrs. Lydia Duncombe, Elizabeth Harrison, and Anne Price.

"How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none?"

The portrait of this sanguinary wretch Mr. Hogarth painted in Newgate; and to Sir James Thornhill, who accompanied him, he made the following observation: "I see by this woman's features that she is capable of any wickedness."

Of his skill in physiognomy I entertain a very high opinion; but as Sarah sat for her picture after condemnation, I suspect his observation to resemble those prophecies which were made after the completion of events they professed to foretell. She has a locked-up mouth, wide nostrils, and a penetrating eye, with a general air that indicates close observation and masculine courage; but I do not discover either depravity or cruelty; though her conduct in this, as well as some other horrible transactions,[196] evinced an uncommon portion of both, and proved her a Lady Macbeth in low life.

Her infatuation in lurking about the Temple after perpetration of the crime for which she suffered, it is difficult to account for upon any other principle than that general remorse and horror which tortures the minds of those who shed a brother's blood; and that overruling Providence, which by means most strange brings their guilt to light and their crimes to punishment;

The circumstances which attended her commitment and execution were briefly as follows:—

At noon, on Sunday the fourth of February 1733, Mrs. Duncombe, a widow lady, upwards of eighty years old (who lived up four pair of stairs, next staircase to the Inner Temple library); Elizabeth Harrison, another elderly person who was her companion; and Anne Price, her servant, about seventeen years of age, were found murdered in their beds. The maid-servant, who was supposed to be murdered first, had her throat cut from ear to ear; but by her cap being off, and her hair much entangled, it was thought she had struggled. The companion, it was supposed, was strangled; though there were two or three wounds in her throat that appeared as if they had been given by a nail. Mrs. Duncombe was probably smothered, and killed last, as she was found lying across the bed with a gown on; though the others were in bed. A trunk in the room was broke open and rifled.

About one o'clock at night, a Mr. Kerrell, who had chambers on the same staircase, came home, and to his great surprise found Sarah Malcolm, who was his laundress, in his room: he asked her how she came to be there at so unseasonable an hour, and if she had heard of any one being taken up for the murder? She replied, "that no person had yet been taken up; but a gentleman who had chambers beneath, and had been absent two or three days, was violently suspected." "Be that as it may," said Mr. Kerrell, "you were Mrs. Duncombe's laundress, and no one who knew her shall ever come into these chambers until her murderer is discovered: pack up your things and go away." While she was thus employed, Kerrell observing a bundle upon the floor, and thinking her behaviour suspicious, called a watchman to whom he gave her in charge. When she was taken away, and he searched his rooms with more care, he found several bundles of linen, and a silver pint tankard, with the handle bloodied. This confirmed his suspicions, and, accompanied by a friend, he went down stairs, and asked the watchman where he had taken Malcolm? This faithful guardian of the night very coolly replied, "that she had promised to come again next day, and he had let her go." Mr. Kerrell declaring that if she was not immediately produced he would commit him to Newgate in her stead, the fellow went in search of her; and though her lodging was in Shoreditch, he found this infatuated woman sitting between two other watchman at the Temple gate. She was then committed to Newgate; and there was found concealed in her hair, eighteen guineas, twenty moidores, five broad pieces, five crown pieces, and a few shillings.[197]

On her examination before Sir Richard Brocas, she confessed to sharing in the produce of the robbery, but declared herself innocent of the murders; asserting upon oath, that Thomas and James Alexander, and Mary Tracy, were principal parties in the whole transaction. Notwithstanding this, the coroner's jury brought in their verdict of wilful murder against Sarah Malcolm only, it not then appearing that any other person was concerned. Her confession they considered as a mere subterfuge, none knowing such people as she pretended were her accomplices.

A few days after, a boy about seventeen years of age was hired as a servant by a person who kept the Red Lion alehouse at Bridewell Bridge; and hearing it said in his master's house that Sarah Malcolm had given in an information against one Thomas and James Alexander, and Mary Tracy, said to his master, "My name is James Alexander, and I have a brother named Thomas, and my mother nursed a woman where Sarah Malcolm lived." Upon this acknowledgment, the master sent to Alstone, turnkey of Newgate; and the boy being confronted with Malcolm, she immediately charged him with being concealed under Mrs. Duncombe's bed, previous to letting in Tracy and his brother, by whom and himself the murders were committed. On this evidence he was detained; and frankly telling where his brother and Tracy were to be found, they also were taken into custody, and brought before Sir Richard Brocas. Here Malcolm persisted in her former asseverations; but the magistrate thought her unworthy of credit, and would have discharged them; but being advised by some persons present to act with more caution, committed them all to Newgate. Their distress was somewhat alleviated by the gentlemen of the Temple Society, who, fully convinced of their innocence, allowed each of them one shilling per diem during the time of their confinement. This ought to be recorded to the honour of the law, as it has not often been the practice of the profession.

Though Malcolm's presence of mind seems to have forsaken her at the time when she lurked about the Temple, without making any attempt to escape, and left the produce of her theft in situations that rendered discovery inevitable, she by the time of trial recovered her recollection, made a most acute and ingenious defence,[198] and cross-examined the witnesses with all the black-robed artifice of a gentleman bred up to the bar. The circumstances were, however, so clear as to leave no doubt in the minds of the court, and the jury brought in their verdict—guilty.

On Wednesday the 7th of March, about ten in the morning, she was taken in a cart from Newgate to the place of execution, facing Mitre Court, Fleet Street,[199] and there suffered death on a gibbet erected for the occasion. She was neatly dressed in a crape mourning gown, white apron, sarcenet hood, and black gloves: carried her head aside with an air of affectation, and was said to be painted. She was attended by Doctor Middleton of St. Bride's, her friend Mr. Peddington, and Guthrie, the ordinary of Newgate. She appeared devout and penitent, and earnestly requested Peddington would print a paper she had given him[200] the night before, which contained, not a confession of the murder, but protestations of her innocence; and a recapitulation of what she had before said relative to the Alexanders, etc. This wretched woman, though only twenty-five years of age, was so lost to all sense of her situation, as to rush into eternity with a lie upon her lips. She much wished to see Mr. Kerrell, and acquitted him of every imputation thrown out at her trial.

After she had conversed some time with the ministers, and the executioner began to do his duty, she fainted away; but recovering, was in a short space afterwards executed. Her corpse was carried to an undertaker's on Snow Hill, where multitudes of people resorted, and gave money to see it: among the rest, a gentleman in deep mourning kissed her, and gave the attendants half-a-crown.

Professor Martin dissected this notorious murderess, and afterwards presented her skeleton, in a glass case, to the Botanic Gardens at Cambridge, where it still remains.

The portrait from which this print was engraved is remarkably well painted, and now in the possession of Mr. Josiah Boydell, at West End. It was probably copied from that which was painted in Newgate, which was in the collection of Mr. Horace Walpole, at Strawberry Hill. It will not appear extraordinary that Hogarth should have delineated her twice, when we consider, that from the print he published there were four copies, besides one in wood, which was engraved for the Gentleman's Magazine.

Thus eager were the public to possess the portrait of this most atrocious woman. All these delineations were what the painters call half-lengths; her whole figure was never engraved, except for this work.

COLUMBUS BREAKING THE EGG.

Such is the animated apostrophe of Sarpedon in the energetic numbers of Alexander Pope, and it is not more appropriate to Glaucus than to the illustrious character who gives the subject of this print. Had a Greek discovered America, Sculpture would have erected statues and raised altars to his honour; Architecture built temples to perpetuate his fame; and by Poetry he must have been deified.

The new creation of Columbus—for a new creation it may be denominated—absorbed every former discovery, and sunk to insignificance the boasted conquests of Alexander. Previous to this voyage a world of water formed what was deemed an insurmountable barrier between the inhabitants of one planet;—"He spread his canvas wings, and pass'd the mound."

As our own Newton unveiled the celestial globe,[201] and removed that cloud which had before shadowed the face of heaven, Columbus, from the bare inspection of a map of one world, concluded that there must be another. He sailed west, brought together continents that nature had severed, and was the first adventurer in a voyage which, from its consequent enterprises, has added more square miles to the dominions of European powers than the sovereigns by whom he was employed possessed acres.[202] His perseverance must have been equal to his genius; for he had to struggle with the rooted prejudices of his contemporaries,[203] as well as the freezing indifference of those monarchs to whom he tendered his service.

Genoa, which was his native country, treated his scheme as visionary. Our seventh Henry, mean, cold-blooded, and avaricious, would not hazard the loss of that treasure which he adored; and the Emperor had neither gold to fit out a fleet nor harbours to receive shipping. The attention of John the Second of Portugal was engrossed by the coast of Africa, and Charles the Eighth of France was in his minority. The Venetians had maritime power, and maritime spirit; but Columbus was a Genoese, and had too much of the amor patriÆ to throw such advantages as he foresaw would accrue to those who prosecuted his plan into the hands of the rivals and enemies of his country. He fixed his hopes on the court of Spain, and his hopes were not disappointed. Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile had by their marriage united all Spain under one dominion: to them he applied; and, with a perseverance that could only be supported by a conscious certainty that his project, if undertaken, must be successful, attended their court eight tedious years! At the end of this time, two merchants, trusting to royal security, and advancing seventeen thousand ducats towards fitting out the vessels, Columbus received his patent; and on the 23d of August 1492 set sail, with three ships only, from the port of Palos in Andalusia.[204]

In less than a month after his departure from the Canaries, he discovered the first island in America;[205] and like our immortal Admiral Drake, found the fair harvest he had hoped to reap in great danger of being blighted by the murmuring and discontent of his crew. To check this mutinous spirit required both resolution and address, and in Columbus they were united. He quieted his companions, and, with true catholic formality, baptized his new discovery St. Salvadore. He soon after made the Lucayan Islands, together with those of Cuba and Hispaniola, now called St. Domingo; and, at the end of nine months, returned with some of the natives, a quantity of gold, and sundry curious productions of the places he had visited,—all of which he laid at the feet of Isabella and Ferdinand.

Their Majesties were neither insensible of his merit nor ungrateful for his services: they suffered him to be seated, and added a privilege heretofore confined to grandees—the honour of being covered in their presence; and crowned their favours by creating him admiral and viceroy of whatever he should add to their dominions.

Columbus having found a new empire, and explored a new world, was now considered as more than mortal. Those who had loudly decried his plan as the chimerical project of a madman, were most eager to patronize the heaven-born navigator, and embark under his command. He a second time set sail, not with three small vessels, but an armament of seventeen ships, manned by a crew who almost adored him, and discovered Jamaica, the Caribbees, and several other islands.

His elevation had been too sudden to be permanent; his talents were too transcendent to be seen without envy. Notwithstanding the services which he had rendered to Spain, the dignities with which he was invested, and the flattering prospects with which he set sail, he was brought home prisoner, by judges who had been sent on board the same vessel as spies upon his conduct; and arrived at the court where he had a short time before been covered with laurels—loaded with chains.

For this mortifying degradation he was indebted to Fonseca, Bishop of Burgos, the intendant of the expedition. Isabella, ashamed of seeing a man to whom she was indebted for the brightest jewel in her crown thus dishonoured, ordered him to be immediately set at liberty; but it does not appear that either queen or king punished the person by whose machinations he had been so ignominiously treated. Whether his royal protectors feared that he would retain whatever he might acquire, wished personally to scrutinize his actions, or had any other inducement, he was not suffered to leave Spain for upwards of four years. At the expiration of that time he was sent upon another voyage, discovered the continent at six degrees distant from the equator; and saw that part of the coast on which Carthagena has been since built.

After several years' absence he returned to Spain, and in the year 1506 died at Valladolid. By the king's command, he was honoured with a magnificent funeral; and on the marble which covered his remains was the following concise and characteristic epitaph: Columbus gave Castile and Leon a New World.

By the success of his first voyage, doubt had been changed into admiration; from the honours with which he was rewarded, admiration degenerated into envy. To deny that his discovery carried in its train consequences infinitely more important than had resulted from any made since the creation, was impossible. His enemies had recourse to another expedient, and boldly asserted that there was neither wisdom in the plan nor hazard in the enterprise.

When he was once at a Spanish supper, the company took this ground; and being by his narrative furnished with the reflections which had induced him to undertake his voyage, and the course that he had pursued in its completion, sagaciously observed, that "it was impossible for any man a degree above an idiot to have failed of success. The whole process was so obvious, it must have been seen by a man who was half blind! Nothing could be so easy!"

"It is not difficult, now I have pointed out the way," was the answer of Columbus; "but easy as it will appear, when you are possessed of my method, I do not believe that, without such instruction, any person present could place one of these eggs upright on the table." The cloth, knives, and forks were thrown aside, and two of the party, placing their eggs as required, kept them steady with their fingers. One of them swore there could be no other way. "We will try," said the navigator; and giving an egg, which he held in his hand, a smart stroke upon the table, it remained upright.[206] The emotions which this excited in the company are expressed in their countenances. In the be-ruffed booby at his left hand, it raises astonishment; he is a DEAR ME! man, of the same family with Sterne's Simple Traveller, and came from Amiens only yesterday. The fellow behind him, beating his head, curses his own stupidity; and the whiskered ruffian, with his forefinger on the egg, is in his heart cursing Columbus. As to the two veterans on the other side, they have lived too long to be agitated with trifles: he who wears a cap exclaims, "Is this all!" and the other, with a bald head, "By St. Jago, I did not think of that!" In the face of Columbus there is not that violent and excessive triumph which is exhibited by little characters on little occasions: he is too elevated to be overbearing; and, pointing to the conical solution of his problematical conundrum, displays a calm superiority, and silent internal contempt.

Two eels, twisted round the eggs upon the dish, are introduced as specimens of the line of beauty; which is again displayed on the table-cloth, and hinted at on the knife blade. In all these curves there is peculiar propriety; for the etching was given as a receipt-ticket to the Analysis, where this favourite undulating line forms the basis of his system.[207]

In the print of Columbus there is evident reference to the criticisms[208] on what Hogarth called his own discovery; and in truth the connoisseurs' remarks on the painter were dictated by a similar spirit to those of the critics on the navigator: they first asserted there was no such line, and when he had proved that there was, gave the honour of discovery to Lomazzo, Michael Angelo, etc. etc.

THE FIVE ORDERS OF PERIWIGS.

AS THEY WERE WORN AT THE LATE CORONATION, MEASURED ARCHITECTONICALLY.

Advertisement (inserted under the Print).

Previous to this print being published, Mr. Stuart, generally denominated Athenian Stuart, advertised that he intended to publish by subscription a book, entitled The Antiquities of Athens, measured and delineated by himself and Nicholas Revitt, painters and architects.[211] The first volume of this excellent work was published in 1762; it received, and we may add it deserved, approbation from every man who had taste enough to relish those stupendous monuments of ancient art, which the barbarians who now possess the country either destroy or suffer to moulder into dust. "To leave a trace behind" was the object of Stuart's book; but Hogarth had so long accustomed himself to laugh at the grand gusto of the Grecian school, that I can readily suppose he at length thought any plan which might damp the public ardour for antiquity would be a correction of national taste.[212] With this view he published the print now under consideration; and if ridicule were a test of truth, it must have effected his purpose. Minute accuracy is the leading feature of Stuart's book; minute accuracy is the leading point in Hogarth's satire.

Under the shadowy umbrage of his remarkable wigs he has introduced several remarkable characters.

Two profiles in the upper row, under the title "Episcopal," or "Parsonic," are said to be intended for Doctor Warburton, late Bishop of Gloucester, and Doctor Samuel Squire, then Bishop of St. David's.

The next row is inscribed "Old Peerian," or "Aldermanic;" the first face, in every sense full, is said to be meant for Lord Melcombe; but considering the class he is placed in, may as well represent some sagacious alderman of the day. At the opposite end of the same line is that remarkable winged periwig, worn by Sir Samuel Fludyer, Lord Mayor of London, at the coronation.

A row beneath is made up of the "Lexonic," and under it is the "Composite," or half-natural, and the "Queerinthian," or Queue de Renard. Even with them is a barber's block, crowned with a pair of compasses, and marked "Athenian measure." This I believe was intended as a caricature of Mr. Stuart, and considered as such is an overcharged resemblance. Above the block is a table of references, and facing it a scale, divided into nodules, or noddles; nasos, or noses; and minutes. To enter fully into the spirit of this whimsical print, the spectator must be acquainted with the terms of architecture.

At the bottom is a portrait of her Majesty, distinguished by the simplicity of her head-dress, and five right honourable ladies, whose different ranks are pointed out by their coronets, and who all wear the tryglyph membretta drop, or neck-lock. Those who knew their persons will find no difficulty in ascertaining their respective titles. The bed-chamber ladies in 1761 were—Duchess of Ancaster, Duchess of Hamilton, Countess of Effingham, Countess of Northumberland, Viscountess Weymouth, Viscountess Bolingbroke.[213] About the centre of the print is the following inscription:—

"Lest the beauty of these capitals should chiefly depend as usual on the delicacy of the engraving, the author hath etched them with his own hand."

They are etched with spirit, and in spelling—incorrect as can be desired by Mr. Hogarth's greatest enemy. The word Advertisement is, in latter impressions, corrected by an e being inserted on the Countess of Northumberland's left shoulder.

THE BENCH.

"CHARACTER, CARICATURE, AND OUTRE."

"There are hardly any two things more essentially different than character and caricature; nevertheless they are usually confounded and mistaken for each other, on which account this explanation is attempted.

"It has ever been allowed, that when a character is strongly marked in the living face, it may be considered as an index of the mind, to express which with any degree of justness in painting, requires the utmost efforts of a great master. Now, that which has of late years got the name of caricature, is, or ought to be, totally divested of every stroke that hath a tendency to good drawing; it may be said to be a species of lines that are produced rather by the hand of chance than of skill: for the early scrawlings of a child, which do but barely hint an idea of a human face, will always be found to be like some person or other, and will often form such a comical resemblance, as in all probability the most eminent caricatures of these times will not be able to equal with design; because their ideas of objects are so much the more perfect than children's, that they will unavoidably introduce some kind of drawing: for all the humorous effects of the fashionable manner of caricaturing chiefly depend on the surprise we are under at finding ourselves caught with any sort of similitude in objects absolutely remote in their kind. Let it be observed, the more remote in their nature, the greater is the excellence of these pieces. As a proof of this, I remember a famous caricature of a certain Italian singer, that struck at first sight, which consisted only of a straight perpendicular line, with a dot over it. As to the French word outrÉ, it is different from the foregoing, and signifies nothing more than the exaggerated outline of a figure, all the parts of which may be in other respects a perfect and true picture of human nature. A giant or a dwarf may be called a common man outrÉ; so any part, as a nose, or leg, made bigger or less than it ought to be, is that part outrÉ, which is all that is to be understood by this word, injudiciously used to the prejudice of character."—See Excess, Analysis of Beauty, chap. 6.

The unfinished group of heads in the upper part of this print was added by the author in October 1764, and was intended as a further illustration of what is here said concerning character, caricature, and outrÉ. He worked upon it the day before his death, which happened the 26th of that month.

The system which Mr. Hogarth has laboured to establish in the above inscription, and which I think the genuine system, he has not illustrated with his usual felicity in the print to which it is annexed.

It was published in 1758, and in its first state exhibited a view of the Court of Common Pleas, and portraits of the four sages who then sat on that Bench.[214] Lord Chief-Justice Sir John Willes is the principal figure; on his right hand is Sir Edward Clive, and on his left Mr. Justice Bathurst, and the Honourable William Noel.

In this state the print gave character only; for though the robes of my Lord Chief-Justice may have a shade of the outrÉ, they in no degree approach to that caricature which the unfinished group added to the plate in 1764 was intended to display. Had the artist lived to finish them, they might have given weight to his assertions, but in their present state do not much illuminate his doctrine.

The picture, from which each of the prints considerably vary, was originally the property of Sir George Hay, and is now in the possession of Mr. Edwards.

THE BEGGARS' OPERA.

"The charge is prepar'd; the lawyers are met;

The judges all rang'd (a terrible show!)

I go undismayed,—for death is a debt,

A debt on demand,—so take what I owe.

Then farewell, my love,—dear charmers, adieu;

Contented I die,—'tis the better for you.

Here ends all dispute the rest of our lives,

For this way at once I please all my wives."