1 832:]

REVIEW.-Anecdotes of Hogarth.

at the pretensions of these quacks in colouring, ridiculed their productions as feeble and contemptible, and asserted that it required neither taste nor talents to excel their most popular performances. This interference excited much enmity, because, as my opponents told me, my studies were in another way. You talk, added they, with ineffable contempt of portrait painting; if it is so easy a task, why do not you convince the world by painting a portrait yourself. Provoked at this language, I one day, at the Academy in St. Martin's-lane, put the following question: Supposing any man at this time were to paint a portrait as well as Vandyke, would it be seen or acknowledged, and could the artist enjoy the benefit, or acquire the reputation, due to his performance?

"They asked me, in reply, if I could paint one as well? and I frankly answered, I believed I could.' My query as to the credit I should obtain if I did, was replied to by Mr. Ramsay, and confirmed by the president and about twenty members present: Our opinions must be consulted, and we will never allow it.' Piqued at this cavalier treatment, I resolved to try my own powers, and if I did what I attempted, determined to affirm that I had done it. In this decided manner I had a habit of speaking, and if I only did myself justice, to have adopted half words would have been affectation. Vanity, as I understand it, consists in affirming you have done that which you have not done, not in frankly asserting what you are convinced is truth.

"A watchmaker may say, The watch which I have made for you, is as good as Quare, or Tompion, or any other man could have made.' If it really is so, he is neither called vain, nor branded with infamy, but deemed an honest and fair man, for being as good as his word. Why should not the same privilege be allowed to a painter? The modern artist, though he will not warrant his works as the watchmaker, has the impudence to demand twice as much money for painting them, as was charged by those whom he acknowledges his superiors in the art.

"Of the mighty talents said to be requisite for portrait-painting, I had not the most exalted opinion, and thought that, if I chose to practice in this branch, I could at least equal my contemporaries, for whose glittering productions I really had not much reverence. In answer to this, there are who will say with Peachum in the play, all professions berogue one another'-but let it be taken into the account, that men with the same pursuits are naturally rivals, and when put in competition with each other, must necessarily be so: what racer ever wished

51

that his opponent might outrun him? what
boxer ever chose to be beat in pure com
plaisance to his antagonist? The artist who
pretends to be pleased and gratified when he
sees himself excelled by his competitor,
must have lost all reverence for truth, or be
totally dead to that spirit which I believe to
be one great source of excellence in all hu-
man attempts; and if he is so polite and civil
as to confess superiority in one he knows to
be his inferior, he must be either a fool or
an hypocrite; perhaps both. If he has tem-
per enough to be silent, it is surely suffi-
cient; but this I have seldom seen, even
amongst the most complaisant and liberal of
the faculty.

"Those who will honestly speak their
feelings must confess that all this is natural
to man; one of the highest gratifications of
superiority arises from the pleasure which
attends instructing men who do not know so
much as ourselves; but when they verge on
being rivals, the pleasure in a degree ceases.
Hence the story of Rubens advising Vandyke
to paint horses and faces, to present, as it is
said, his being put in competition with him-
self in history painting. Had either of these
great artists lived in England at this time,
they would have found men of very moderate
parts-mere face painters, who, if they
chanced to be in vogue, might with ease get
a thousand a year; when they, with all their
talents, would scarcely have found em-
ployment.

"To return to my dispute with Ramsay, on the abilities necessary for portrait painting; as I found the performances of professors in this branch of the art were held in such estimation, I determined to have a brush at it. I had occasionally painted portraits, but as they required constant practice to take a likeness with facility, and the life must not be rigidly followed, my portraitures met with a fate somewhat similar to those of Rembrandt. By some they were said to be nature itself, by others declared most execrable; so that time only can decide whether I was the best or the worst face painter of my day; for a medium was never so much as suggested.

"The portrait which I painted with most pleasure, and in which I particularly wished to excel, was that of Captain Coram, for the Foundling Hospital; and if I am so wretched an artist as my enemies assert, it is somewhat strange that this, which was one of the first I painted the size of life, should stand the test of twenty years' competition, and be generally thought the best portrait in the place, notwithstanding the first painters in the kingdom exerted all their talents To this I refer Mr. Ramsto vie with it.

REVIEW.-Anecdotes of Hogarth.

Milner, and Mr. Jackson, by Hudson; Dr. Mead, by Ramsay; Mr. Emmerson, by Highmore; and Francis Fauquier, esq. by Wilson. To say that it is superior to these, is but slight praise; independent of this relative superiority, it will not be easy to point out a better painted portrait. The head, which is marked with uncommon benevolence, was, in 1739, engraved in mezzotinto, by M'Ardell. J. IRELAND.]

+"[Thus does Hogarth pun upon the name of Mr. Ramsay, who he seems to think peered too closely into his prints; though he acknowledges, that in a book entitled the Investigator, Ramsay has treated him with more candour than any of his other opponents. J. IRELAND.]

“[The fable here alluded to, is entitled, 'a Painter who pleased every body and nobody.'

'So very like a painter drew,

That every eye the picture knew.—

His honest pencil touch'd with truth,

And mark'd the date of age and youth;'

In dusty piles his pictures lay,

For no one sent the second pay.'

Finding the result of truth so unpropitious to his fame and fortune, he changed his practice;

Two bustos fraught with every grace,

A Venus, and Apollo's face,

He placed in view ;-resolv'd to please,
Whoever sat, he drew from these.'

'Through all the town his art they prais'd,

His custom grew, his price was rais'd.' J. IRELAND."]

1832.]

REVIEW, Dr. J. Johnson's Diary of a Philosopher.

Change of Air; or, the Diary of a Philosopher in pursuit of Health and Recreation; illustrating the beneficial influence of bodily exercise, change of scene, pure air, and temporary relaxation, as antidotes to the wear and tear of Education and Avocation. By James Johnson, M. D. Physician Extraordinary to the King. Second Edition. 8vo. pp. 300.

AS a tourist, Dr. Johnson is one of the most agreeable and amusing writers we have met with for some time

past. As novelty of description is now scarcely to be expected, in a tour so frequently undertaken of late years, our traveller endeavours to amuse his readers with the originality of his observations, and the variety of incidents that arose during the progress of his journey; for impressions and reflections (as he well observes) will continue to be varied till the minds and features of human beings become similar to each other; and in this respect only, can novelty, or rather variety of sentiment, be expected.

The work may be said to consist of three parts. The first contains general reflections connected with the objects and pursuits of travellers in general, which are replete with many valuable philosophical remarks. The second portion of the work consists of

reflections and observations made during excursions through France, Switzerland, Italy, and Germany, in the years 1823 and 1829; and this is decidedly the most pleasing portion of the volume. The third division is of a more professional character, in which the author displays a thorough knowledge of the various topics on which he treats. His speculations relate principally to the moral, physical, and medicinal influence of foreign climate and residence, in sickness and health; and particularly as relates to the places

he visited.

The author's opinions and statements are in general extremely unfavourable to the national character of the Italians; and indeed it is almost impossible for a philosophical and unprejudiced mind, notwithstanding the classic glories of the "eternal city," to arrive at any other conclusion. Notwithstanding the amiable predilections of Eustace (who, in his pious enthusiasm for the "metropolis of the Christian world," was disposed to gloss over its vices and overrate its virtues, declaring that "the spirit and

53

magnificence of the ancient Romans
still animated the Italians") - Italy
ranks low in the European scale of
nations. Pride, infidelity, and vice
are the distinguishing traits of the
nobles; whilst ignorance, bigotry, and
poverty pervade the lower orders of
society. For Italy, nature has done
every thing, and man nothing, or
worse than nothing. Her geographi-
cal situation is calculated to defy the
world, her clime is the most genial in
Europe, and her soil, by its produc-
tiveness, ulmost spontaneous; but such
is the paralysing influence of papal
bigotry and oppression, that the bless-
ings of heaven and the gifts of nature
are in vain :

Soft zephyrs blow, eternal summers reign,
And showers prolific bless the soil in vain.

Of true political liberty the Italian has little notion; the opera, the cantatrice, or the barrel-organ, are more " Clear, agreeable to his feelings. and shrill, and loud, and mellifluous, as are Italian notes and throats on the stage," says Dr. Johnson, they are as mute and ineffectual in the cause of human liberty on the political arena, as are the tears of the stag, or the bleating of the lamb, against the tusks of the tiger or the paws of the lion, in the jungles of the Sunderbunds."

The extreme state of degradation and poverty to which the peasantry and lower orders are reduced, is the source of the most loathsome diseases; and whilst the ordinary traveller is oft enchanted with the fertility of the soil, the beauty of the lakes, the romantic grandeur of the prospects, and brilliancy of the skies, he entirely forgets the misery of the poor inhabitants, and the diseases that carry them to a premature grave. Among the most horrible of human diseases, perhaps,

is the PELLAGRA of the LombardoVenetian plains, a description of which is thus given by Dr. Johnson :

"This horrible malady, or complication of maladies, has only been observed during the last sixty or eighty years, and is rapidly increasing. The proportion of cases in the hospital is very considerable. It begins by an erysipelatous eruption on the skin, which breaks out in the Spring, continues till the Autumn, and disappears in the Winterchiefly affecting those parts of the surface which are habitually exposed to the sun or the air. This cutaneous symbol of an interual disorder is accompanied or preceded by remarkable debility, lassitude, melan

54

choly,

[Jan.

REVIEW.-Dr. J. Johnson's Diary of a Philosopher. moroseness-hypochondriacism—and ciety. It is not bounded by any age,

not seldom a strong propensity to suicide. Year rolls on after year, and the cutaneous eruption, as well as the general disorders, become more and more aggravated, with shorter and shorter intervals in the winter.

At length the surface ceases to clear itself, and becomes permanently enveloped in a thick, livid, leprous crust, somewhat resembling the dried and black skin of a fish. By this time the vital powers are reduced to a very low ebb, aud not seldom the intellectual functions. The miserable victim of the dreadful pellagra loses the use of his limbs, more particularly of the lower extremities is tormented with violent colick, head-achie, nausea, flatulence, and heartburn-the appetite being sometimes null, at others voracious. The countenance becomes sombre and melancholy, or totally void of expression, the breath fetid, the teeth rotten, the inside of the mouth ulcerated, the inucous membrane highly irritable, and diarrhoea is a common accompaniment of the other disastrous train of miseries. But the most distressing phenomenon of all is a sense of burning heat in the head and along the spine, whence it radiates to various other parts of the body, but more especially to the palms of the hands and soles of the feet, tormenting the wretched victim day and night, and depriving him completely of sleep. He frequently feels as if an electric spark darted from the brain, and flew to the eyeballs, the ears, and the nostrils, burning and consuming those parts. To these severe afflictions of the body are often added strange hallucinations of the mind. The victim of pellagra fancies that he hears the incessant noise of millstones grinding near him, of hammers resounding on anvils, of bells ringing, or the discordant cries of various animals. The disease, when advanced, takes the form of many other maladies, as tetanus, convulsions, epilepsy, dropsy, mauia, and marasmus; the patient ceasing at last to exist and to suffer, when reduced to the state and appearance of a mummy. It is by no means uncommon (who can say it is wonderful?) that the wretched being abbreviates the term of his afflictions, and anticipates the too tardy hand of death in a paroxysm of suicidal mania. It is remarkable that this tendency to self-destruction very often assumes the form of a desire to consummate that last act of the tragedy by drowning; so much so, that Strambi, a writer on the pellagra, has given it the name of hydromania, when this propensity exists."

Whatever may be the precise nature of the cause of this dreadful disease, it is certain that it is almost universally confined to those who reside in the country, leading an agricultural life and to the lowest orders of so

being frequently seen in the youngest children. The whole of the flat country, on both sides of the river Po, but more especially the fertile and level plains between that river and the Alps, are the theatre and head-quarters of pellagra.

Such is the sweeping and terrible scourge of those beautiful and fertile plains, that furnish themes of admiration for the poet, the painter, the novellist, and the romantic tourist! Had Rogers and Wordsworth, while cele brating the borders of Como and the Lago Maggiore, representing them as terrestrial paradises, been acquainted with the pestilence that afflicted one seventh of the inhabitants, they would have curbed a little their poetic fancies, or added a back-ground to the picture.

In passing between the Po and Bologna, the writer, adverting to the misery of the peasantry, observes,

"The vintage was in full operation, and every man, woman, child, aud beast, were at work in securing the nectarious harvest of old Bacchus. Did the appearance of the peasantry correspond with the scenes of peace, plenty, and fertility around? Travellers say little or nothing on this subject. If they did but inspect the countenances of the inhabitants, they would see poverty, disease, and depression in every feature. Some mysterious and invisible Upas Tree must surely overshadow the smiling plains and glades of Italy, rendering nugatory the exuberance of nature and the labour of man!"

On the magnificent remains of Roman greatness and Roman pride, so strongly calculated to excite the enthusiasm of modern travellers, the Doctor frequently dilates with a vein of philosophical sarcasm that imparts an air of originality to his style and manner, in which the merely descriptive writer can rarely succeed. We quote the following, as examples :

COLISEUM.

"Of all the monuments that now exist to attest the decline and fall of the Roman empire, this is the most stupendous; and, could it be dissociated in the mind from the causes which gave it birth, or the coldblooded hideous barbarities which it exhibited, it would be the most majestic, even in its ruins. But the springs of action are more philosophic objects of contemplation than the mere machinery by which these are brought into operation. In the early years of a state, as in those of an individual,

1832.]

REVIEW-Dr. J. Johnson's Diary of a Philosopher.

the sensibilities, though keen, respond only to natural impressions. But as time rolls on, as wealth accumulates, as luxury prevails, and as virtue decays, the sensibilities become not only blunted, but perverted; wholesome stimuli cease to call forth the usual, or at all events, the desired excitement; and then nature is outraged in every possible way. Such was the condition of the Romans, when the manly, or at least the innocent, contests of the circus, and the fictitious sorrows of the stage, became insipid-and yon gigantic structure rose, arch over arch, and order over order, Titanlike, to scale the heavens; or rather to usurp the privileges of the gods, in receiving the incense of slaughtered victims-in breathing the odour of human gore, jetting in crimson fountains from a thousand pierced and palpitating hearts.

"To feast their eyes on the mangled and quivering members, on the reeking entrails of man and animals; to view with exqusite delight the murderous conflicts of the ensanguined arena; hither flowed daily the impetuous tide of human existence, the lords of the creation, the venerated, the god-like Romans! Here took their allotted seats the sceptered prince and laurelled consul, the war-like knight and solemn senator, the haughty patrician and factious tribnne, the vestal virgin and stately matron, the tuneful bard and grave philoopher. These, and countless multitudes of Roman citizens and Roman rabble, rushed daily to yon gorgeous structure; all for the sake of that excitement which simple or innocent pleasures could no longer elicit.

"Yes! and when the wounded gladiator fell before the superior force or fortune of his fierce antagonist, and sued for life; when the victor poised in air his gory falchion, and looked for the signal of mercy or murder; these polished Romans, the fair sex themselves, vestals, maidens, and matrons, held up their hands for blood; nor would they forego the poignant pleasure of seeing the reeking steel plunged into the vitals of a fellow creature! Such was yon colossal slaughter-house, where every ferocious animal that roamed the wilds or haunted the rivers of Asia, Africa, and Europe, was conducted to view, as well as to encounter, with horror and astonishment, the still more ferocious animal-man.*

"Erected by a Pagan, purged of its inhuman rights by a priest, and propped in old age by a Pope, the Coliseum shadows out some faint emblematical picture of Rome

55

itself. It was once the stormy theatre of bloody deeds; it is now the peaceful asylum of holy crosses. Part of it still stands erect, or renovated; part of it totters over its base; but the greater part has vanished. Eloquent in its silence, populous in its solitude, majestic in its adversity, admired in its decay, the ruins of the Coliseum, like the remains of Rome, excite the curiosity of the antiquary, the ruminations of the moralist, the zeal of the Catholic, the admiration of the architect, the sigh of the philanthropist, the sneer of the cynic, the humiliation of the philosopher, and the astonishment of all."

ARCH OF CONSTANTINE.

"I never look at a triumphal arch without feeling a thrill of horror run through my veins. Behold the Arch of Constantine, the first Christian Emperor, who waded to the throne ankle-deep in the blood of his rival (Maxentius), as well as of his whole race! But that was a legitimate procedure, according to the imperial maxims of ancient days! The murder of his wife, of his virtuous son (Crispus), of his innocent nephews, and of a few thousand other victims, were only episodes which fill a few pages of impartial history, but which are prudently slurred over by historical bishops!

"The arch itself is a memorable instance and record of the instability of human power, and the uncertainty of triumphal honours. The fortune of a battle converted a traitor into an emperor; while an abject senate changed the edifices erected by Maxentius into trophies for his conqueror; demolished the Arch of Trajan to build up the heterogeneous Arch of Constantine, without regard to the memory of the virtuous dead, or to the rules of architectural propriety; confounded times, persons, actions, and characters, in a chaos of anachronism, and a mass of inconsistencies; prostrating Parthian captives at the feet of a prince who never crossed the Euphrates, and placing the head of Trajan on the body of Constantine."

In the preceding observations the author writes like a philosophical historian, disgusted with the national inhumanity of enlightened barbarians, though inspired with admiration at the splendid remains of a once mighty people. In the following description there is more of antiquarian and pro

"The licentious and blood-thirsty Romans did not always enjoy these sights with impunity. When the Emperor Probus was preparing for his triumph, nearly three hundred years after the birth of Christ, fourscore desperate gladiators out of six hundred who were reserved for the inhuman sports of the Coliseum, disdaining to shed their blood for the amusement of the populace, broke from the place of their confinement, and filled the streets of Rome with slaughter and confusion. They were overcome at last; but not before they avenged their fraternity by torrents of blood in the Eternal City."