Note 80 — Chapter V
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The chosen band who then directed the storm, having dragged poor "Sigismunda" into their political vortex, the cannibal caricaturists of the day tore her in pieces as a carcase for the hounds, and rioted over her mangled remains.
One of these political slaughtermen, in a print entitled "The Bruiser Triumphant," describes Sigismunda in the character of a harlot blubbering over a bullock's heart. In another, elegantly inscribed "Tit for Tat," Hogarth is represented painting Wilkes' portrait, and a bloated and filthy figure displayed in the background baptized Sigismunda. Many other wretched and contemptible squibs were hurled about on the same occasion. Besides this public abuse, some of the anonymous versifiers of the day, who were not yet important enough to figure in a newspaper or flutter in a magazine, condescended to notice his political errors, and for the gratification of the artist transmitted their effusions to Leicester Fields.
The following stanzas I found among his other papers, addressed
"To the Author of the Times.
"Why, Billy, in the vale of life, Show so much rancour, spleen, and strife? Why, Billy, at a statesman's whistle, Drag dirty loads and feed on thistle? Did any of the long-ear'd tribe E'er swallow half so mean a bribe? Pray have you no sinister end, Thus to abuse the nation's friend? His country's and his monarch's glory, Who prais'd no man as Whig or Tory. His country is his dearest mother, And every honest man his brother. Not so your patron can appear, He buys up scrip, and stops the arrear; His practice still, in every station, To serve himself and starve the nation. Then, Billy, in the vale of life, Desist from all this noise and strife; For though the hint perhaps is bold, I tell thee thou art growing old. Read coolly, o'er thy evening glass, Toledo's bishop in Gil Blas."
Christening the author of the North Briton "his country's and his monarch's glory," leads us to suspect that the ingenious gentleman who fabricated the above rhymes had some little portion of party prejudice. The Quaker who wrote the annexed letter and epigram, which, as well as the verses that follow, were amongst Hogarth's manuscripts, was moved by a very different spirit:—
"Of the eighth month, the 20th day, 1763.
"Friend Hogarth,—I am one of those people, by a sort of disrespectful appellation, called Quakers; for we strive to abound in the milk of human kindness, and prefer the dove to the serpent. I know thee not but by thy works and fame as an ingenious artist in thine own way. I have seen thy compositions and handy works, and think them not only ingenious, but moral, and even more than dramatic, perfectly epic; so that I think thou deservest the character of the Epic painter, which I hereby bestow upon thee, and by which thou shalt be distinguished in future generations; for if I do not much mistake the matter, thy name will be had in honour when thine adversaries shall have perished,—I would have said, and shall stink,—but that they do already. I have hereby sent thee an epigram, such as my spirit dictated to me. I fear it hath too much in it of the gall of bitterness. But I will tell thee, friend Hogarth, I am a man of some small property and authority, having cattle under me; and when the brutes are poisoned, I cure them with wormwood. Let not thy noble spirit that is in thee be diverted from its true and masterly turn of exposing licentiousness, vice, hypocrisy, faction, and apostasy.—Thine in all brotherly and good wishes,
"Ephraim Knox."
An Epigram.
To the Rev. Charles Churchill, Esquire, etc.
"Thou boast'st, vain Churchill, with thy gray goose quill, Thou'st kill'd, or surely wilt poor Hogarth kill. Alas! he (with the world) will only smile At self-importance in a frippery style. 'Churchill, stand forth!'—I call thee not my friend;— The sober dictates of my lines attend. "Wast thou, like Hogarth, in thine own way good, Thou in the reading-desk might'st yet have stood; Though poor,—perhaps a reputable curate,— Sad! that thy stubborn heart is yet obdurate. Without fair hope of pension or of place, To make a shipwreck of divinest grace!" —Ephraim Knox.
To Mr. Hogarth.
"Brighthelmstone, July 9, 1763.
"Sir,—You see the effects of the salt waters here; they incline us to scribble by way of amusement. I have sent you the following stanzas, which you may print or do what you please with:—
To the Rev. C. Churchill.
"Non ut pictura poesis."
"Dear Churchill, what ill-fated hour Has put thee into Hogarth's power? This railing shows how much you're hurt, While Hogarth nothing meant but sport; Transmitting unto future times What might not live in Churchill's rhymes,— The perfect hero, poet, sage! The pride, the wonder of the age! That form,—which eating Peers admired,— Which heaven-born liberty inspir'd! Which keeps our ministers in awe, And is from justice screen'd by law! "The sad resource to which you're driven, Appears by your appeal to heaven: A place ne'er thought on once before,— Withdraw th' appeal and give it o'er. You must proceed by different ways; Your only court's the Common Pleas. "Horace was wrong when once he said, Hogarth and he were of a trade. No varying verse, howe'er divine, Can match with Raphael's stronger line. The pencil, like contracted light, Strikes with superior force the sight. "Churchill, be wise: in time retire, While Hogarth yet suspends his fire; There's something in thee like a spell, Though we can't love,—we wish thee well. You ne'er can wish to purchase shame, By driving on a losing game: His feeble hand, though you despise it, Will make you tremble, should he rise it: Already has his fancy hit on A frontispiece for the North Briton; Where in full view the virtuous pair Shall thus their various merits share. "Thy rose and Bible thrown aside, And the long cassock's tatter'd pride; His liberal hand shall in their stead Place nettles circling round thy head, Entwin'd with thistles fully blown, To wear these honours all thy own! "Next, round thy friend, and all in taste, See every social virtue plac'd; Fair Truth and modest Candour joined,— Those softer emblems of the mind; Faction expiring by his pen, And Loyalty restor'd again; Whilst he regards not this or that, Secure of T—— and of P——. "The piece thus finish'd for our view, The lines correct, the likeness true, Hogarth, ensur'd of future fame, Shall consecrate to Churchill's name."