"The Rake's Progress", c. 1732; the masterpiece of the story series the
"Marriage а la Mode" followed after an interval of twelve years.
As a painter of social life, Hogarth shows the benefit of the system
of memory training which he made a self-discipine. London was his universe
and he displayed his mastery in painting every aspect of its people and
architecture, from the mansion in Arlington Street, the interior of which
provided the setting for the disillusioned couple in the second scene of
the "Marriage а la Mode", to the dreadful aspect of Bedlam. Yet he was not
content with one line of development only and the work of his mature years
takes a varied course. He could not resist the temptation to attempt a
revalry with the history painters, though with little successs. The
Biblical compositions for St. Bartholomew's Hospital on which he embarked
after "The Rake's Progress" were not of a kind to convey his real genius.
He is sometimes satirical as in "The March of the Guards towards Scotland",
and the "Oh the Roast Beef of Old England!(Calais Gate)", which was a
product of his single expeditionabroad with its John Bull comment on the
condition of France, and also the "Election"series of 1755 with its
richness of comedy. In portraiture he displays a great variety. The charm
of childhood, the ability to compose a vivid group, a delightful delicacy
of colour appear in the "Graham Children" of 1742. The portrait heads of
his servants are penetrating studies of character. The painting of Captain
Coram, the philanthropic sea captain who took a leading part in the
foundation of the Foundling Hospital, adapts the formality of the
ceremonial portrait to a democratic level with a singularlyengaging
effects. The quality of Hogarth as an artist is seen to advantage in his
sketches and one sketch in particular, the famous "Shrimp Girl" quickly
executed with a limited range of colour, stands alone in his work, taking
its place among the masterpieces of the world in its harmonyof form and
content, its freshness and vitality.
The genius of Hogarth is such that he is often regarded as a solitary
rebel against a decaying artificiality, and yet though he had no pupils, he
had contemporaries who, while of lesser stature in one way and another,
tended in the same direction.
William Hogarth expressed in his art the new mood of national
elation, the critical spirit of the self-confident bourgeoisie and the
liberal humanitarianism of his age. He was the first native-born English
painter to become a hero of the Enlightenment. One reason for his
popularity was that the genius of the age found its highest expression in
wit. From Moliиre to Votaire, from Congreve through Swift and Pope to
Fielding, the literature of wit was enriched on a scale unprecedent since
antiquity. The great comic writers of the century exposed folly, scarified
pretension and lashed hypocrisy and cruelty.
It was the great and single-handed achievement of Hogarth to
establish comedy as a category in art to be rated as highly as comedy in
literature. According to the hierarchy of artistic categories that was
inherited from the Renaissance, istoria, --the narrative description of
elevated themes, especially from the Bible and antiquity --was the highest
branch of art measured by a scale which placed low-life genre at the
bottom.
Hogarth was actually sensitive to the categorical deprecation of
comic art, and with his friend Henry Fielding set about a campaign to raise
its standing.
In a number of works and statements Hogarth identified his cause with
comic literature. In his self -portrait of 1745 the oval canvas rests on
the works of Shakespeare, Milton and Swift. Because his reasons for
invoking literature were misunderstood, Hogarth exposed himself to the
charge of being a "literary" artist. The legend of the literary painter
can be traced back to his own age. "Other pictures we look at, "wrote
Charles Lamb, "his prints we read." Some of the blame for aesthetic
deprecation must be placed on the shoulders of Hogarth himself. He seems
to have even encouraged an image which mystified his critics. He remarked
of the connoisseurs "Because I hate them, they think I hate Titian and let
them!" He outraged Horace Walpole by saying that he could paint a portrait
as well as Van Dyck. He compared nature with art, to the desadvantage of
the latter.
If his statements are examined carefully, it becomes apparent that he
did not attack foreign art as such, that he passionately admired the Old
Masters.
What manner of man was he who executed thse portraits--so various, so
faithful, and so admirable? In the London National Gallery most of us have
seen the best and most carefully finished series of his comic paintings,
and the portrait of his own honest face, of which the bright blue eyes
shine out from the canvas and give you an idea of that keen and brave look
with which William Hogarth regarded the world. No man was ever less of a
hero; you see him before you, and can fancy what he was --a jovial, honest
London citizen, stout and sturdy; a hearly, plain-spoken man, loving his
laugh, his friend, his glass, his roast-beef of Old England, and having a
proper bourgeois scorn for foreign fiddlers, foregn singers, and, above
all, for foreign painters, whom he held in the most amusing contempt.
Hogarth's "Portraits of Captain Coram"
Hogarth painted his portrait of Capitain Coram in 1740, and donated
it the same year to the Foundling Hospital.
It was painted on Hogarth's own initiative, without having been
commissioned, and was presented to a charitable institution in the making,
one of whose founder members Hogarth was, and it depicts a friend of his,
the prime mover of the whole undertaking. The very format of the picture
shows that Hogarth was exerting all his powers to produce a masterpiece.
It measures about 2.4 by 1.5 metres, the biggest portrait Hogarth ever
painted.
In producing a work like this, of monumental proportions, where there
was no purchaser to sistort the artist's intentions, Hogarth mst have had a
definite aim or aims, and it is probable that he desired his work to
express something of significance to him at this period of time.
The portrait is conceived in the great style, with foreground plus
repoussoir, middle-ground, background, classical column and drapery. Coram
is depicted sitting on a chair, which is placed on a platform with two
steps leading up to it.
Hogarth makes use of the conventional scheme, traditional in
portraits of rulers and noblemen, with its column, drapery and platform as
laudatory symbols to stress the subject's dignity, a composition, which in
the England of that time, was usually associated with Van Dyck's much
admired but old-fashioned protraits of kings and noblemen. Hogarth's
painting, with its attributes and symbols is not far removed form history
painting. But the subject is a sea-captain, whose social position did not,
by the fixed conventions for this category of picture, entitle him to this
kind of portrayal. His relatively modest position in society is emphasized
by his simple dress, a broad-coat of cloth, by the absence of the wig
obligatory for every parson of standing, and by the intimace and realism
with which the artist has depicted this figure with his broad, stocky body,
shose short, bent legs do not reach the floor.
The mode of depiction refers back to , and creates in the beholder an
expectation of a somewhat schematized and idealized manner of human
portrayal. But by depicting Coram in an intimate and realistic fashion
Hogarth breaks the mould. In one and the same work he has made use of the
means of expression of both the great and the low style. By making
apparent the low social status of his subject, Hogarth seems also to wish
to breach the classic doctrine, whose scale of values provided the
foundation of the theories about the division of painting into distinct
categories, where the nature of the theme determined a picture's place on
the scale "high" to "low".
5.2) Sir Joshua Reynolds(1723-1792)
To feel to the full the contrast between Reynolds and Hodarth, there
is no better way than to look at their self-portraits. Hogarth's of 1745
in the Tate Gallery, Reynolds's of 1773 in the Royal Academy. Hogarth had
a round face, with sensuous lips, and in his pictures looks you straight in
face. He is accompanied by a pug-dog licking his lip and looking very much
like his master. The dog sits in front of the painted oval frame in which
the portrait appears--that is the Baroque trick of a picture within a
picture. Reynolds scorns suck tricks. His official self-portrait shows
him in an elegant pose with his glove in his hand, the body fitting nicely
into the noble triangular outline which Raphael and Titian had favoured,
and behind him on the right appears a bust of Michelangelo.
This portrait is clearly as programmatic as Hogarth's. Reynolds's
promramme is known to us in the greatest detail. He gave altogether
fifteen discourses to the students of the Academy, and they were all
printed. And whereas Hogarth's Analysis of Beaty was admired by few and
neglected by most--Reynolds's Discourses were international reading.
What did Reynolds plead for? His is on the whole a con sistent
theory. "Study the great masters...who have stood the test of ages, " and
especially "study the works to notice"; for "it is by being conversant with
the invention of others that we learn to invent". Don't be "a mere copier
of nature", don't "amuse mankind with the minute neatness of your
imitations, endeavour to impress them by the grandeur of [...] ideas".
Don't strive for "dazzling elegancies" of brushwork either, form is
superior to colour, as idea is to ornament. The history painter is the
painter of the highest order; for a subject ought to be "generally
interesting". It is his right and duty to "deviate from vulgar and strict
historical truth". So Reynolds would not have been tempted by the
reporter's attitude to the painting of important con-temporary events. With
such views on vulgar truth and general ideas, the portrait painter is ipso
facto inferior to the history painter. Genre, and landscape and still life
rank even lower. The student ought to keep his "principal attention fixed
upon the higher excellencies. If you compass them, and compass nothing
more, you are still first, class... You may be very imperfect, but still
you are an imperfect artist of the highest order".
This is clearly a consistent theory, and it is that of the Italian
and even more of the French seventeenth century. There is nothing
specifically English in it. But what is eminently English about Reynolds
and his Discourses is the contrast between what he preached and what he
did. History painting and the Grand Manner, he told the stu-dents, is what
they ought to aim at, but he was a portrait painter most exclusively, and
an extremely successful one.
Reynold's "Mrs Siddons as the Tragic
Muse": the Grand Manner Taken
Seriously
For anyone coming to the painting with a fresh eye the first
impression must surely be one of dignity and solem-nity. It is an
impression created not only by the pose and bearing of the central figure
herself, and her costume, but also by the attitude of her two shadowy
attendants, by the arrangement of the figures, and by the colour. The
colour must appear as one of the most remarkable features of the painting.
To the casual glance the picture seems monochromatic. The dominant tone is
a rich golden brown, interrupted only by the creamy areas of the face and
arms and by the deep velvety shadows of the background. On closer
examination a much greater variety in the colour is appar-ent, but the
first impression remains valid for the painting as a unit.
The central figure sits on a thronelike chair. She does not look at
the spectator but appearsan deep contemplation; her expression is one of
melancholy musing. Her gestures aptly reinforce the meditative air of the
head and also contribute to the regal quality of the whole figure. A great
pendent cluster of pearls adorns the front of her dress. In the heavy,
sweeping draperies that envelop the figure there are no frivolous elements
of feminine costume to conflict with the initial effect of solemn grandeur.
In the background, dimly seen on either side of the throne, are two
attendant figures. One, with lowered head and melancholy expression, holds
a bloody dagger; the other, his features contorted into an expression of
horror, grasps a cup. Surely these figures speak of violent events. Their
presence adds a sinister impression to a picture already eavily charged
with grave qualities.
At the time the portrait was painted, Sarah Siddons was in her late
twenties, but she already.had a soli.d decade of acting experience behind
her. She was born in 1755, the daughter of Roger Kemble, manager of an
itinerant com-pany of actors. Most of her early acting experience was with
her father's company touring through English provincial centres. Her
reputation rose so quickly that in 1775, when she was only twenty, she was
engaged by Garrick to perform at Drury Lane. But this early London
adventure proved premature; she was unsuccessful and retired again to the
provincial circuits, acting principally at Bath. She threw her full
energies into building her repertory and perfecting her acting technique,
with the result that her return to London as a tragic actress in the autumn
of 1782, was one of the great sensations of theatre history. Almost
overnight she found herself the unquestioned first lady of the British
stage, a position she retained for thirty years. The leading intellectuals
and statesmen of the day were among her most fervent admirers and were in
constant attendance at her performance.
Among the intelligentsia who flocked to see the great actress and
returned again and again was Sir Joshua Reynolds, the august president of
the Royal Academy. He was at the time the most respected painter in
England, and he also enjoyed a wide reputation as a theorist on art.
Reynolds moved with ease among the great men of his day. Mrs Siddons
remarks in her memoirs: "...At his house were assembled all the good, the
wise, the talented, the rank and fashion of the age."
The painting is in fact a brilliantly successful synthe-sis of images
and ideas from a wide variety of sources.
The basic notion of representing Mrs Siddons in the guise of the
Tragic Muse may well have been suggested to Reynolds by a poem honouring
the actress and published early in 1783. The verses themselves are not
distinguished, but the title and the poet's initial image of Mrs Siddons
enthroned as Melpomene, the muse of tragedy, may have lodged in Reynolds's
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