he was weakest: as well in that subjection to vanity which his friends confessed in him, as in that enslavement to all the unquiet distrusts of Envy, "who, with giant "stride, stalks through the vale of life by virtue's side,' which he had even confessed in himself. We do not like to dwell upon it, so great is our respect for Hogarth's genius; but, at the least, it spared that genius. Amid its savage ferocity against the man, it was remarkable for a noble tribute to the artist. It predicted the duration of his works to the most distant age; and the great painter's power to curse and bless, it rated as that of "a "little god below." "Justice with equal course bids Satire flow, And loves the virtue of her greatest foe. But not the Man; which, rightly understood, May make us great, but cannot make us good. "In walks of humour, in that cast of style,1 Nor let me call it by a meaner name, Where a beginning, middle, and an end, Are aptly join'd; where parts on parts depend, 1 The poetical reader who is startled by this weak expression in the midst of lines so masterly, must yet accept it as characteristic of Churchill: for, as we observe in the text, he will constantly find in his writings, with regret and disappointment, such indolent escapes from the proper exercise of his vigour and genius. 66 But this did not avail against the terrible severity. There is a passage beginning, "Hogarth. I take thee, "Candour, at thy word;" marked by a racy, idiomatic, conversational manner, flinging into relief the most deadly abuse, which we must think fairly appalling. All who knew the contending parties stood aghast. "Pray let me "know," wrote Garrick, then visiting at Chatsworth, to Colman, "how the town speaks of our friend Churchill's "Epistle. It is the most bloody performance that has "been published in my time. I am very desirous to "know the opinion of people, for I am really much, very "much hurt at it. His description of his age and infir"mities is surely too shocking and barbarous. Is Hogarth really ill, or does he meditate revenge? Every article "of news about these matters will be most agreeable to me. Pray, write me a heap of stuff, for I cannot be easy till I know all about Churchill and Hogarth." And of course the lively actor sends his "loves" to both Hogarth and Churchill. "Send me Churchill's poem on Hogarth," writes old money-loving Lord Bath from Spa; but, if it be long, it will cost a huge sum in post"age." With his rejoinder, such as it was, Hogarth lost little time. He issued for a shilling, before the month. was out, "The Bruiser, C. Churchill (once the Rev), in "the character of a Russian Hercules, regaling himself "after having killed the monster Caricatura, that so sorely galled his virtuous friend, the heaven-born Wilkes." It was a bear, in torn clerical bands, and with paws in ruffles; with a pot of porter that has just visited his jaws hugged on his right, and with a knotted club of Lies and North Britons clutched on his left; to which, in a later edition of the same print, he added a 66 66 66 VOL. II. N scoffing caricature of Pitt, Temple, and Wilkes.' The poet meanwhile wrote to tell the latter, who had gone to Paris to place his daughter at school, that, Hogarth having violated the sanctities of private life in this caricature, he meant to pay it back with an Elegy, supposing him dead; but that a lady at his elbow was dissuading him with the flattery (and "how sweet is "flattery," he interposes, "from the woman we love!") that already Hogarth was killed. That the offending painter was already killed, Walpole and others beside this nameless lady also affirmed; and Colman boldly avouched in print, that the Epistle had "snapped the last cord of poor Hogarth's heartstrings." But men like Hogarth do not snap their heartstrings so easily. The worst that is to be said of the fierce assault is bad enough. It embittered the last years of a great man's life; and the unlooked for death, soon after, of assailant and assailed within only nine days of each other, prevented the reconciliation which would surely, sooner or later, have vindicated their common genius, the hearty English feeling which they shared, and their common cordial hatred of the falsehoods and pretences of the world. The woman whose flattery Churchill loved, may not be omitted from his history. His connexion with her, which began some little time before this, gave him greater emotion and anxiety than any other incident of his life. 66 I forgot to tell you," writes Walpole to Lord Hertford, "and you may wonder at hearing nothing of the Rev. "Mr. Charles Pylades, while Mr. John Orestes is making "such a figure; but Doctor Pylades, the poet, has for"saken his consort and the muses, and is gone off with a "stone-cutter's daughter. If he should come and offer "himself to you for chaplain of the embassy!" The cir 1 Portraits of Churchill are so rare that it may be worth while mentioning one at Lord Northampton's hospital at Greenwich, evidently of about this date, kit-katt size, and not in good condition, but genuine. The poet has a pen in his hand, and before him a letter, addressed to Wilkes in Paris. It was presented to the hospital in 1837 by Mr. Tatham, then warden. 66 cumstance has since been told by a sincerer man; and we shall alike avoid the danger of too much leniency and too great a severity, if we give it in his temperate language. He became intimate with the daughter of a tradesman "in Westminster," says Southey in the Life of Cowper (she is described by others as the daughter of a highly respectable sculptor), "seduced her, and prevailed on her to quit her father's house and live with him. But his "moral sense had not been thoroughly depraved; a fort"night had not elapsed before both parties were struck "with sincere compunction, and through the intercession "of a true friend, at their entreaty, the unhappy penitent was received by her father. It is said she would have proved worthy of this parental forgiveness, if an elder "sister had not, by continued taunts and reproaches, ren"dered her life so miserable, that, in absolute despair, she "threw herself upon Churchill for protection." He again received her, and they lived together till his death; but he did not, to himself or others, attempt to vindicate this passage in his career. A poem called the Conference, in which an imaginary lord and himself are the interlocutors, happened to engage him at the time; and he took occasion to give public expression to his compunction and self-reproach in a very earnest and affecting manner. 66 It may be well to quote the lines. They are not merely a confession of remorse,-they are also a proud profession of political integrity, in which all men may frankly believe. The Poem, one of his master-pieces, followed the Epistle to Hogarth; right in the wake of the abundant personal slander which had followed that work, and of the occurrence we have named. It began with a good picture of my Lord lolling backward in his elbow-chair, "with an insipid kind "of stupid stare, picking his teeth, twirling his seals about-Churchill, you have a poem coming out?" The 66 dialogue then begins, and some expressions are forced from Churchill as to the straits of life he has passed; and as to the public patronage, his soul abhorring all private help, which has brought him safe to shore. Alike secure from 66 dependence and pride, he says, he is not placed so high to scorn the poor, "Nor yet so low that I my Lord should fear, Or hesitate to give him sneer for sneer." But that he is able to be kind to others, to himself most true, and feeling no want, can "comfort those who do," he proudly avers to be a public debt. Upon this the Lord rebukes him, setting forth the errors of his private life, "Think (and for once lay by thy lawless pen), To make thee free, have made thee more a slave." The reproach then draws from him this avowal: “Ah! what, my Lord, hath private life to do Bids late remorse awake at reason's call, Arm'd at all points, bids scorpion vengeance pass, And to the mind hold up reflection's glass, The mind, which starting, heaves the heart-felt groan, |