The horse is called Tom, like his master, and like him suffers himself to be ridden upon by other people for theirown advantage-which he would not do were he not silly.

I have known instances of Englishmen who have at first read the word filly instead of silly; and indeed, few persons would expect to find the latter epithet beneath the portrait of an English racer. A noble, generous creature, that stands many degrees above other horses in the scale of animal perfection, and not unfrequently above its master himself. Here it seems to be disgraced merely for the purpose of inculcating a moral lesson to its owner.

Thus Hogarth informs us that his hero keeps racers, and, as we may perceive, from the two portraits of combatants against the wall, fighting cocks also. And if, in addition to this, he bestows his golden apples among such fighting-hens as the three who stand before Paris, we shall be able very easily to divine what will be the end, not of this upstart,-but of this downstart. At the harpsicord sits a man, apparently not very young, although when viewed from behind of a-very respectable appearance. Before him a new Opera lies open. "The rape of the Sabines," upon the right hand leaf are the names of the performers, and on the top line is Romulus, SEN. FAR. - undoubtedly meaning Farinelli, a celebrated singer of that day, with whom we shall by and bye become better acquainted. Then follow the ravishers themselves, very whimsically numbered first, second, third ravisher,—with the abbreviations of their names; and what gives this idea so much Hogarthian pleasantry, is, that these dreadful ravishers were, one and all, artificially prepared for soprano singers. It is to be observed too, that the word ravish has another meaning, which, it is probable, did not occur to Hogarth, at the time, for it would rather have diminished than increased the force of the intended satire:-to ravish means also to enrapture, and in this sense, Farinelli may certainly be said to have been a most notorious ravisher of ladies. Then come the virgins ;-Signora Str-dr, Signora Ne-gr-se-all natural sopranos, it is true, but most artificial virgins! These ladies belong to the well

known order of female Sabines, who wander through, and sing in every country of Europe; where they extort fines from the other sex, in revenge for the lost honour of their grandmothers, giving them in return a symbol of the fatal history by way of quittance; after which they proceed with their booty to the Agro Sabino.

Upon the back of the chair, on which the Harpsicord player sits, hangs a long roll of paper; which, at first sight, might be taken for a petition to a certain house; and the company, too, has somewhat the appearance of a gang come to press subscribers into their service. This, however, is not the case: it is a list of the presents which have been made to the ravisher Farinelli, who had then quavered himself into a princely fortune. "A list of the rich presents Signor Farinelli, the Italian singer, condescended to accept of the English nobility and gentry for one night's performance in the Opera of Artaxerxes. A pair of diamond buckles by -; a diamond ring by

-; a bank-note in a rich gold case; a gold box, with the history of Orpheus enchanting the beasts, by Thomas Rakewell." Bravo! among these animals, it appears, was one justly called silly Tom!

These are the costly toys: then come the various sums, 100, 200, 300 guineas as we may suppose. Below lies the frontispiece to a poetical panegyric on Farinelli, inscribed by its author to our Rakewell. Thus racers, fighting cocks, strumpets, and poets, devour something in the course of a year. The frontispiece represents Farinelli upon an altar, where hearts are burning; before him are ladies, some kneeling, and some standing; offering to him flaming hearts, a most extraordinary present to bring to such a deity. The high-priestess exclaims " one God! one Farinelli ! and it is asserted that, during the time that so many persons were infected by this Tarantula-mania, a lady actually uttered these words aloud in one of the boxes, being plunged in an exstacy of rapture at the warblings of the Castrato.

But who, after all, is the man seat❤ ed before the harpsichord; —for it most undoubtedly represents some well known character of that day?

upon

Englishmen themselves are not agreed as to who is the person intended, and no foreigner can possibly decide such a question as this: but it certainly cannot be Farinelli. No youthful fair one would think of offering her heart to such a figure as this-such a thing is not credible for a single moment. Place whatever will you the altar, be it marble, or wood, or what it may, for Heaven's sake let it be in the shape of youth! It is generally reported to be our own great countryman, Handel: Trusler expressly says so, and I have myself recently been assured, on the authority of a person who knew Hogarth, that this figure is most certainly Handel. Nichols is of a contrary opinion; but he merely founds it upon an hypothesis of Sir John Hawkins: "Handel," says Sir John, "valued himself too much to bring himself into such a situation; therefore, the artist would hardly have ventured to expose him thus." Now it seems to me that this is of no weight at all. One must be very little acquainted with the spirit of satire in general, and more particularly with the spirit of Hogarth's satire, to impute to it such scruples. The figure of Handel,-which many thousand persons must have frequently seen placed in this attitude before the instrument, probably pleased our artist; and in consequence of being thus well known to the public, it was calculated to answer his purpose by serving as a universally intelligible sign for music, just as Bridgeman's head does for gardening. I must own that it would have been an unpardonable thing to have given us here Handel's features; but it is the art, not the man that is here made so prominently conspicuous; and this circumstance removes all idea of intentional offence. Yet if it be really Handel who is here before us, Hogarth has made ample reparation by the manifesto which he has fixed to the chair; and we may be permitted to interpret as follows the artist's meaning.- "This is the man upon whom should be conferred those presents which thou, my country! lavishest upon wretched eunuchs! If thou must bestow thy wealth upon a stranger, at least bestow it upon one whose melodies, so far from unnerving thy manly feelings, rouze, excite, and animate to deeds that are worthy of VOL. II.

thyself. But as for those give them brickbats instead of bread.'

Now for a peep into the anti-room 3 where we find all the characters ready for the second act of this morning comedy, and the bell about to ring. A milliner is listening with great resignation to the somewhat furious address of a man, who, to judge from his gesticulation, is quarrelling about precedency: this person, who may be a shoemaker, is afraid that he shall be the last to be admitted into the presence chamber. Next to him is one who, according to Gilpin, is a French taylor; and then comes a French perruquier: the former has a new gala-suit on his arm, the latter a new wig in his box. This is indeed something like a taylor! what a difference between him and the village theosophist, who measured our hero for his mourning! You might swear that that fellow was a cobler; but this gentleman might almost be mistaken for a minister of state. To all appearance, both the taylor and perruquier have come hither in a coach. Who is the tall figure standing by the looking glass? He appears to be some one either upon half-pay, or out of place. But the poet! the poet with an epistle to Rakewell in his hand! He who does not sympathize in the felicity felt by this man while he reads his own verses, probably for the hundredth time, has never been the father of a single line, and is consequently unacquainted with one of the greatest domestic enjoyments with which it has pleased Heaven to cheer hu man existence-no matter whether placed in a garret, at Twickenham, or at Ferney! Observe with what affec tion and paternal rapture he regards his metrical offspring; while his right hand is placed upon his heart, as if to prove the sincerity of his feelings:

his peruke too is precisely in the fashion of Voltaire's! Did we not ak ready know that Hogarth had himself written verses, we could not have failed to suspect it, after viewing this poetaster's head.

Between the portraits of the game cocks, hangs the Judgment of Paris. The arrangement of these pictures shows us the taste of its possessor, or at least of his major-domo-or perhaps his major-domo may be a sly dog, and intend the cocks as a stroke levelled at poor Paris. The

2 H

two animals stand there as if the three goddesses were so many hens; while Paris sits there as if they were so many cocks. Is it at all probable, that this picture is a copy of one that had been in the possession of Francis I. and sold to Rakewell as an original?

Francois I. Roi de France avoit un ta

bleau que l'on disoit être sans défaut; il permit à tout le monde de le venir considérer, et ordonna qu'on lui fit parler tous deux qui y trouveroient des défauts. Ce tableau representoit Junon, Venus, Pallas, et Paris nuds. Rabelais, après l'avoir examiné long-tems, dit qu'il trouvoit un grand défaut de jugement: on le fit parler au Roi, qui lui ayant demandé quel étoit ce defaut, il repondit a sa Majesté, que Paris étant au milieu des trois plus belles déesses du ciel, ne devoit pas etre representé d'un si sang-froid; et que c'étoit se tromper lourdement que de penser que ce Prince, jeune et vigoreux, fut ainsi demeuré sans donner quelque signe qu'il étoit homme, devant trois deesses nues, qui tachoient à F'envie de lui plaire."

This is quoted from the anonymous explainer of Hogarth, from whom Mr. Ireland borrowed the observa

tion. But how happened it that nei ther recollected that their great countryman Burke has solved this problem with his peculiar philosophical acumen. The passage occurs in his Enquiry into the Origin of our Ideas on the Sublime and Beautiful, Part 4. Sect. 9, and to this I must refer the reader. Were it brought into contact with the one before quoted, they would by their affinity produce a third, which is quite as well omitted.

In front of the harpsichord is the maker's name: the words, if I am not mistaken, (for they are not very legible,) are J. Makoon fecit. In all probability, this is another stroke at the tastelessness and extravagance of the possessor, or the imposition of the vender. But the English annotators take no notice whatever of such traits have considered, that, although conas these; they ought, however, to taining no difficulty for the artist's contemporaries, time renders them obscure. And we may be sure too, that Hogarth did not insert this name without being convinced that it was the most appropriate he could select for his purpose.

Naturalists, particularly chemists, have observed, that man, and every animal that breathes, and wishes to retain its breath as long as possible, ought to inhale a mixture, consisting of one part of pure vital air, and three parts of deadly air. This is a most remarkable fact: immerse a man entirely in the latter, and he will neither breathe nor eat again. Plunge him entirely into the former O! how rapidly burns the flame of life! with sixfold brilliancy it glows! Youth flashes with greater energy on the cheek!-The powers of digestion are increased with sixfold force! But the fire blazes out too impetuously, and we fear-yes we fear-that if this vital energy be continued much longer it will produce-eternal life! How wisely, therefore, has nature tempered the air of eternal life in our atmosphere, by combining it with a treble portion of deadly gas! Did we consist entirely of soul, we should all shoot up into fanatics and devotees, fit neither for heaven nor for earth; but the five well-known dampers

Ex

hinder this too luxuriant growth, and cause the soul to vegetate more slowly. But what, exclaims my reader, is the drift of all this? In the second plate, our hero was in a forcinghouse; here we behold him in a damping one. He has to-day been fencing, dancing, been taking a lesson upon the harpsicord, another upon the French horn, a third with the quarter-staff; he has listened to a poetical reading, and has dispatched_an infinitude of domestic business. ertion like this requires rest, that the mind may recruit its powers against the employment of the morrow; and this he finds here, in rather an extraordinary manner, it must be confessed, but that is not our concern, it is merely a matter of taste. Here then reposes our indefatigable hero,—in a tavern ;-and whether it is a regular, or merely an extempore.brothel, I will not take upon me to decide. In London, money will soon convert any room into a library, picture gallery, museum, or a seraglio. Our hero has made choice of the latter for a friend

world.

A hat with white feathers is mak

ton maître !

The looking glass that universal portrait of all present has not escaped any more than the imperial likenesses: : - the fracture has probably been occasioned by the sword of Rakewell, who has been committing suicide. In the general tumult and confusion, the victuals have been flung into a corner of the room, which, as we may perceive, was already occupied. The aboriginal possessor of this territory is a particular utensil, which people are apt to use somewhat unceremoniously, and which occasionally serves them very unceremoniously in return: this is now pouring forth its superfluity, most ungrudgingly, over a roast chicken with a fork sticking in its breast, as well as over picked bones, plates, lemons, and jelly-glasses. The gentleman's cane is lying broken at no great distance. In the fore-ground is a heap of clothes, the peeling of some lady, who, to be more at her ease, has been stripping herself to the very quick: the vestments reach along the ground as far as the Cæsar'shead, which serves to connect them with a box of pills.

Such are the havock and devastation that has taken place amongst the objects of inanimate nature: let us now. view the destruction that has happened to the animated part. Wearisomeness and exhaustion have produced, as usual, an appearance of something like soberness, and the arrangement of the figures is, at least, picturesque. The heads form a line, gradually rising from the right to the left, till we arrive at the bald pate, when they decline, in a similar man ner, on the other side towards the horizon, till we return nearly to the spot from which we first set out. For this observance of order amidst disorder, we may thank the table, which, by its inflexible neutrality, maintains peace where, had there been a few inches less wood between the parties, blows and murder must have inevitably ensued. In short, this same physical distance is a most excellent peace maker; as we may convince

one of our hero. It is to this that its wearer owes her victory over so many rivals.-It is true, the booty all goes into the common stock, but still all the honour belongs to her. With her right hand this fair creature is making an attack upon his heart, in order to feel his pulse at the very source. Yet this is only a feint; the real attack is directed against another beating matter, his watch, and this is consigned over to a party in the rear, while the eye of the fair plunderer keeps another watch of a different species.

The indifference with which the rear-guard receives the booty is expressed in a most capital manner: one would hardly suppose that such a face could countenance such transactions. Her right hand, supported by its elbow on the back of the vanquished enemy's chair, takes the watch as coolly as it would a soapball; she seems as if inclined to play with the prize before she deposits it in the treasury--and that, too, close to Rakewell's ear! but she doubtless knows very well how such cars keep guard. That Hogarth thought no little of this face is evident from the foil with which he has set it off. Here is again English flesh and blood opposed to a complexion of African soot. What flashes of lightning the

little black Satan shoots from her eyes!

They are the brightest sparklers in the piece. She directs her glances towards the door, where a wench, in the attitude of the performer on the French-horn in the preceding plate, is blaring out the ballad of the Black Joke. The good creature is black herself, and likes a joke too, be its colour what it may: she holds up her finger to her mouth: perhaps out of a little modesty she intended to hold her whole hand before her face, but, upon reflection, she feels that there is no occasion for it here.

At the table are two remarkable female dragon-heads; one of them is spitting out fire, the other poisoned wine the contest has, perhaps, hitherto been carried on merely by the weapons in their mouths,, or they