“I was born,” says Hogarth in his Memoirs of himself, “in the city of London, November 10, 1697. My father’s pen, like that of many authors, did not enable him to do more than put me in a way of shifting for myself. As I had naturally a good eye, and a fondness for drawing, shows of all sorts gave me uncommon pleasure when an infant; and mimicry, common to all children, was remarkable in me. An early access to a neighbouring painter drew my attention from play; and I was, at every possible opportunity, employed in making drawings. I picked up an acquaintance of the same turn, and soon learnt to draw the alphabet with great correctness. My exercises when at school were more remarkable for the ornaments which adorned them, than for the exercise itself. In the former I soon found that blockheads with better memories could much surpass me; but for the latter I was particularly distinguished.”

To this account of Hogarth’s childhood we have only to add, that his father, an enthusiastic and laborious scholar, who like many of his craft owed little to the favour of fortune, consulted these indications of talent as well as his means would allow, and bound his son apprentice to a silver-plate engraver. But Hogarth aspired after something higher than drawing cyphers and coats-of-arms; and before the expiration of his indentures he had made himself a good draughtsman, and obtained considerable knowledge of colouring. It was his ambition to become distinguished as an artist; and not content with being the mere copier of other men’s productions, he sought to combine the functions of the painter with those of the engraver, and to gain the power of delineating his own ideas, and the fruits of his acute observation. He has himself explained the nature of his views in a passage which is worth attention.

“Many reasons led me to wish that I could find the shorter path,—fix forms and characters in my mind,—and instead of copying the lines try to read the language, and, if possible, find the grammar of the art by bringing into one focus the various observations I had made, and then trying by my power on the canvass how far my plan enabled me to combine and apply them to practice. For this purpose I considered what various ways, and to what different purposes, the memory might be applied; and fell upon one most suitable to my situation and idle disposition; laying it down first as an axiom, that he who could by any means acquire and retain in his memory perfect ideas of the subjects he meant to draw, would have as clear a knowledge of the figure as a man who can write freely hath of the twenty-five letters of the alphabet and their infinite combinations.” Acting on these principles, he improved by constant exercise his natural powers of observation and recollection. In his rambles among the motley scenes of London he was ever on the watch for striking features or incidents; and not trusting entirely to memory, he was accustomed, when any face struck him as peculiarly grotesque or expressive, to sketch it on his thumb-nail, to be treasured up on paper at his return home.

For some time after the expiration of his apprenticeship, Hogarth continued to practise the trade to which he was bred; and his shop-bills, coats-of-arms, engravings upon tankards, &c., have been collected with an eagerness quite disproportionate to their value. Soon he procured employment in furnishing frontispieces and designs for the booksellers. The most remarkable of these are the plates to an edition of Hudibras, published in 1726: but even these are of no distinguished merit. About 1728 he began to seek employment as a portrait painter. Most of his performances were small family pictures, containing several figures, which he calls “Conversation Pieces,” from twelve to fifteen inches high. These for a time were very popular, and his practice was considerable, as his price was low. His life-size portraits are few; the most remarkable are that of Captain Coram in the Foundling Hospital, and that of Garrick as King Richard III. But his practice as a portrait painter was not lucrative, nor his popularity lasting. Although many of his likenesses were strong and characteristic, in the representation of beauty, elegance, and high-breeding, he was little skilled. The nature of the artist was as uncourtly as his pencil; he despised, or affected to despise, what is called embellishment, forgetting that every great painter of portraits has founded his success upon his power of giving to an object the most favourable representation of which it is susceptible. When Hogarth obtained employment and eminence of another sort, he abandoned portrait painting, with a growl at the jealousy of his professional brethren, and the vanity and blindness of the public.

March 23, 1729, Hogarth contracted a stolen marriage with the only daughter of the once fashionable painter, Sir James Thornhill. The father, for some time implacable, relented at last; and the reconciliation, it is said, was much forwarded by his admiration of the “Harlot’s Progress,” a series of six prints, commenced in 1731, and published in 1734. The novelty as well as merit of this series of prints won for them extraordinary popularity; and their success encouraged Hogarth to undertake a similar history of the “Rake’s Progress,” in eight prints, which appeared in 1735. The third, and perhaps the most popular, as it is the least objectionable of these pictorial novels, “Marriage Alamode,” was not engraved till 1745.

The merits of these prints were sufficiently intelligible to the public: their originality and boldness of design, the force and freedom of their execution, rough as it is, won for them an extensive popularity and a rapid and continued sale. The Harlot’s Progress was the most eminently successful, from its novelty rather than from its superior excellence. Twelve hundred subscribers’ names were entered for it; it was dramatized in several forms; and we may note, in illustration of the difference of past and present manners, that fan-mounts were engraved, containing miniature copies of the six plates. The merits of the pictures were less obvious to the few who could afford to spend large sums on works of art; and Hogarth, too proud to let them go for prices much below the value which he put upon them, waited for a long time, and waited in vain, for a purchaser. At last he determined to commit them to public sale; but instead of the common method of auction, he devised a new and complex plan, with the intention of excluding picture-dealers, and obliging men of rank and wealth, who wished to purchase, to judge and bid for themselves. The scheme failed, as might have been expected. Nineteen of Hogarth’s best pictures, the Harlot’s Progress, the Rake’s Progress, the Four Times of the Day, and Strolling Actresses dressing in a Barn, produced only 427l. 7s., not averaging 22l. 10s. each. The Harlot’s Progress was purchased by Mr. Beckford, at the rate of fourteen guineas a picture; five of the series perished in the fire at Fonthill. The Rake’s Progress averaged twenty-two guineas a picture; it has passed into the possession of Sir John Soane, at the advanced price of five hundred and seventy guineas. The same eminent architect became the proprietor of the four pictures of an Election, for the sum of 1732l. Marriage Alamode was disposed of in a similar way in 1750; and on the day of sale one bidder appeared, who became master of the six pictures, together with their frames, for 115l. 10s. Mr. Angerstein purchased them, in 1797, for 1381l., and they now form a striking feature in our National Gallery.

The number and variety of Hogarth’s moral and satiric works preclude our naming any but the more remarkable. To those already mentioned we would add the March to Finchley, Southwark Fair, the Distressed Poet, the Enraged Musician, Modern Midnight Conversation, Gin Lane and Beer Street, the four prints of an Election, and two entitled “The Times,” which would hardly require notice, except for having produced a memorable quarrel between himself on one side, and Wilkes and Churchill on the other. The satire of the first, published in 1762, was directed, not against Wilkes himself, but his political friends, Pitt and Temple; nor is it so biting as to have required Wilkes, in defence of his party, to retaliate upon one with whom he had lived in familiar and friendly intercourse. He did so, however, in a number of the North Briton, containing not only abuse of the artist, but unjust and injurious mention of his wife. Hogarth was deeply wounded by this attack, and he retorted by the well-known portrait—it ought not to be called a caricature—of Wilkes with the cap of liberty. “I wished,” he says, “to return the compliment, and turn it to some advantage. The renowned patriot’s portrait, drawn as like as I could, as to features, and marked with some indications of his mind, answered every purpose. A Brutus, a saviour of his country, with such an aspect, was so arrant a farce, that though it gave rise to much laughter in the lookers-on, it galled both him and his adherents. This was proved by the papers being crammed every day with invectives against the artist, till the town grew sick of thus seeing me always at full length. Churchill, Wilkes’s toad-eater, put the North Briton into verse in an epistle to Hogarth; but as the abuse was precisely the same, except a little poetical heightening, it made no impression, but perhaps effaced or weakened the black strokes of the North Briton. However, having an old plate by me, with some parts ready sunk, as the back-ground and a dog, I began to consider how I could turn so much work laid aside to some account; and so patched up a print of Master Churchill in the character of a bear.” The quarrel was unworthy of the talents either of the painter or poet. “Never,” says Walpole, “did two angry men of their abilities throw dirt with less dexterity.” It is the more to be regretted, because its effects, as he himself intimates, were injurious to Hogarth’s declining health. The summer of 1764 he spent at Chiswick, and the free air and exercise worked a partial renovation of his strength. The amendment, however, was but temporary; and he died suddenly, October 26, the day after his return to his London residence in Leicester Square.

If we have dwelt little upon Hogarth’s merits in his peculiar style of art, it is still less necessary to say much concerning his historical pictures. Of their merits he himself formed a high and most exaggerated estimate, not hesitating to give out that nothing but envy and ignorance prevented his own pictures from commanding as much admiration, and as high prices, as the most esteemed productions of foreign masters. Posterity has confirmed the judgment of his contemporaries, and Hogarth’s serious compositions are very generally forgotten. The only one which merits to be excepted from this observation is his Sigismunda, painted in 1759, in competition with the well-known and beautiful picture, ascribed by some to Correggio, by others to Furino. Our painter’s vanity and plain dealing had raised up a host of enemies against him among painters, picture-dealers, and connoisseurs; and all whose self-love he had wounded, or whose tricks he had denounced, eagerly seized this opportunity to vent their anger in retaliation. The picture is well known, both by engravings and by Walpole’s severe criticism. We abstain from quoting it: we have passed lightly over a great artist’s excellences, and it would be unfair to expatiate on his defects and errors. Besides this, Hogarth’s chief historical works are the Pool of Bethesda and the Good Samaritan, executed in 1736 as a specimen of his powers, and presented to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital; Paul before Felix, painted for the Hall of Lincoln’s Inn, in 1749; and Moses brought before Pharaoh’s daughter, painted in 1752, and presented to the Foundling Hospital.

Hogarth was not a mere painter: he used the pen as well as the pencil, and aspired to teach as well as to exercise his art. He has left a memoir of his own life, which contains some curious and interesting and instructive matter concerning his own modes and motives of thought and action. He wrote verses occasionally in a rough and familiar style, but not without some sparkles of his humorous turn. But his most remarkable performance is the “Analysis of Beauty,” composed with the ambitious view of fixing the principles of taste, and laying down unerring directions for the student of art. Its leading principle is, that the serpentine line is the foundation of all that is beautiful, whether in nature or art. To the universality of this assertion we should be inclined to demur; Nature works by contrast, and loves to unite the abrupt and angular with the flowing and graceful, in one harmonious whole. The work, however, unquestionably contains much that was original and valuable. But when it was found that Hogarth, a man unpolished in conversation, not regularly trained either to the use of the pen or the pencil, and, above all, a profound despiser of academics, of portrait painters, and of almost all things conventionally admired, had written a book professing to teach the principles of art, the storm of criticism which fell upon him was hot and furious. It was discovered that Hogarth was not the author of the book, that the principle was false and ridiculous, and that every body had been in possession of it long before. The last objection, certainly, is so far true, that every one instinctively must feel a line of easy curvature to be more graceful than one of abrupt and angular flexure. But the merit of first enunciating this as a rule of art belongs to Hogarth; and it is recorded to have been the opinion of West, uttered after the author’s death, that the Analysis is a work of the highest value to the student of art, and that, examined after personal enmity and prejudice were laid to sleep, it would be more and more read, studied, and understood. We doubt whether this judgment of the President is altogether sanctioned by the practice of the present day; but time, without altogether establishing the author’s theory, has at least laid asleep the malicious whispers which denied to Hogarth the merit of it, whatever that may be.

In the executive part of his art, either as painter or engraver, Hogarth did not attain to first-rate excellence. His engravings are spirited, but rough; but they have the peculiar merit (one far above mechanical delicacy and correctness of execution) of representing accurately, by a few bold touches, the varied incidents and expression which he was so acute and diligent in observing. A faithful copier, his works are invaluable as records of the costume and spirit of the time; and they preserve a number of minute illustrative circumstances, which his biographers and annotators have laboured to explain, with the precision used by critics in commenting upon Aristophanes. Wit and humour are abundant in all of them, even in accessories apparently insignificant; and they require to be studied before half the matter condensed in them can be perceived and apprehended. “It is worthy of observation,” says Mr. Lamb, “that Hogarth has seldom drawn a mean or insignificant countenance.” This is so far true, that there are few of his faces which do not contribute to the general effect. Mean and insignificant in the common sense of the words they often are, and the fastidious observer will find much to overcome in the general want of pleasing objects in his compositions. But the vacancy or expression, the coarseness or refinement of the countenance, are alike subservient to convey a meaning or a moral; and in this sense it may justly be said, that few of Hogarth’s faces are insignificant. Through the more important of his works, a depth and unity of purpose prevails, which sometimes rises into high tragic effect, the more striking from the total absence of conventional objects of dignity, as in the two last plates of the “Rake’s Progress.” “Gin Lane” has been included by Mr. Lamb in the same praise, and its power cannot be denied; but it contains too much that is purely disgusting, mixed with much that is in the nature of caricature, to be a general favourite.

The nationality of Hogarth’s prints has given to them a more lasting and extensive popularity than any class of engravings has ever enjoyed. Not to mention the large impressions from the original plates, which were touched and retouched again and again, they have been frequently engraved on a smaller scale, accompanied with an historical and descriptive text; and there is scarcely a library of any pretensions which has not a “Hogarth Illustrated,” in some shape or other, upon its shelves. Of these works, the first was Dr. Trusler’s “Hogarth Moralized,” republished lately in a very elegant shape; the most complete is the quarto edition of Hogarth’s works, by Nichols and Stevens. There is a long and valuable memoir of the artist in Rees’s “CyclopÆdia,” by Mr. Phillips, R.A., and an extended life by Allan Cunningham in the “Family Library.” The works of Walpole, Gilpin, Hazlitt, and others, will furnish much of acute criticism; and we especially recommend the perusal of an Essay by Charles Lamb on the “Genius and Character of Hogarth,” published originally in the “Reflector,” No. 3. It is chiefly occupied by a minute criticism upon the “Rake’s Progress,” and though, in our opinion, somewhat partial and excessive in praise, is admirably calculated to show the reader in what spirit the moral works of Hogarth should be studied.