We see a ghost: Hogarth's satire on Methodists and Connoisseurs.

Author:Krysmanski, Bernd

I have seen Hogarth's print of the Ghost. It is a horrid composition of lewd Obscenity & blasphemous prophaneness for which I detest the artist & and have lost all esteem for the man. The best is, that the worst parts of it have a good chance of not being understood by the people. - Bishop William Warburton, 1762(1) William Hogarth's "print of the Ghost" is his engraving Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism: A Medley (1762, [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURE 1 OMITTED]),(2) which, as a satire on Methodist "enthusiasts," is indeed "horrid" in its vicious attack on a fanatic preacher and swooning congregation. Bishop Warburton, the well-known eighteenth-century advocate of the established church and keen antagonist of deism, atheism, and Methodism, was equally right in his supposition that parts of Hogarth's print "have a good chance of not being understood," since the work has several levels of interpretation. When published, it was a total reworking of a first state, entitled on the proofs Enthusiasm Delineated [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURE 2 OMITTED].(3) Figuratively and literally, the one obscures the other, and it is the purpose of this paper to look at the published print to unveil the hidden meaning of its unpublished proof. Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism depicts the inside of a Methodist meeting place in which a congregation has gone mad over an enthusiastic sermon. The name of the most prominent Methodist preacher at that time, George Whitefield, and two lines from his Collection of Hymns for Social Worship (1753)(4) are inscribed on a slip of paper attached to the clerk's lectern. Near the pulpit, banderole-like, is a sonometer called "W[hitefiel]d's Scale of Vociferation." It ranges from "Nat[ura]l Tone" to "Bull Roar," another clear allusion to Whitefield, who was known for his powerful voice. The instrument hangs grotesquely from a nose and screaming mouth inscribed "Blood, Blood, Blood, Blood," a reference to Whitefield's use of repetition to dramatize his words.(5) Describing Methodist preaching, a certain "Eusebius" wrote in A Fine Picture of Enthusiasm (1744) that the frequent mention of the Name of Jesus, the Lamb of God, and the Blood of Jesus, filling up great Part of their public Discourses, and very often only used to supply the Want of Ideas or sense; so that these Expressions our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, and the Blood, the precious Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, are used as the Music of their Discourses.(6) The preacher's arms are raised, a handkerchief held theatrically in his left hand to suggest grief, a pose typical of George Whitefield.(7) In order to leave no doubt about whom he was attacking, Hogarth has made the clerk at the lectern an obvious caricature of the man. He is even portrayed cross-eyed, as he is in the portrait of him painted by John Wollaston in 1742 [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURE 3 OMITTED].(8) Whitefield in 1762 was rather corpulent, but Hogarth presents him here emaciated and depressed, a shadow of his former self. His wings may refer to a canard that appeared in the Lloyd's Evening Post in 1761 reporting that the Methodist leader had died.(9) The cherubim on either side of the clerk also allude to the world beyond. A postboy from heaven, echoing the clerk's putti, appears in the upper center of the print. The fact that he is delivering a letter addressed to "St. Money-trap" underlines the preacher's greed, as does the "Poors Box," which is a mousetrap. Whitefield was brilliant at collecting money from the ignorant. In Israel Pottinger's The Methodist, a Comedy (1760) he is called "an Enthusiastic Rascal! - That frightens the Ignorant out of their Wits, and afterwards picks their Pockets."(10) Hogarth's pulpiteer cannot be preaching the word of God. With a harlequin's suit under his gown, he speaks, as indicated on the open page of his Bible, "as a fool" (2 Cor. 2:23). All the members of the equally foolish congregation have lost their senses. The atmosphere is hellish, the preacher's puppets a devil and a witch. The "Globe of Hell" hanging from the ceiling has a face and is inscribed with strange topographical expressions such as "Molten Lead Lake," "Pitch & Tar Rivers," "Horrid Zone," "The Brimstone Ocean," and "Eternal Damnation Gulf." This is probably a sideswipe at the attitudes of a "hellfire Methodist preacher" who sees hell's flames flashing in the faces of the congregation and believes "that they are now! now! now! dropping into Hell! into the Bottom of Hell! the Bottom of Hell!"(11) These inscriptions may also insinuate Roman Catholic fantasies of hell.(12) The preacher's wig falls away and reveals the shaven crown of a Jesuit, an allusion to the then widely held opinion that Methodists were in fact secret papists. Bishop Lavington, for instance, compared the "modern Enthusiasts" to the "most ridiculous, strolling, fanatical, frantic, delirious, and mischievous of all the saints in the Romish Communion." And Theophilus Evans wrote that "the Sects of all Denominations . . . were made Tools in the Hands of Romish Priests, to carry on their Interest, that they are all the Spawn of the Jesuits, however diversified in Tenets and Principles."(13) As the "Globe of Hell," which hangs level with the pulpiteer, is inscribed "A New and Correct Globe of Hell by Romaine," it must refer to another notorious London Calvinist Methodist preacher, William Romaine, who was, in 1752, appointed professor of astronomy at Gresham College. In a lecture read at the college Romaine had once asked: "was dying sinner ever comforted by the spots in the Moon? Was ever miser reclaimed from avarice by Jupiter's Belts? or did Saturn's Ring ever make a lascivious female chaste?"(14) Contrary to the opinion that celestial bodies had "no tendency to mend the heart," Hogarth's print indicates the effect Romaine's "Globe" had on churchgoers. We need only look at the man at the back left, his hair on end, the expression on his face one of horror as the preacher by his side points out the globe to him. This preacher is, no doubt, John Wesley, as one lifted arm was characteristic of his manner of preaching, as his portrait indicates [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURE 4 OMITTED].(15) The Methodists were regularly accused of being distracted,(16) and, indeed, in Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism the room, with its windowpanes resembling prison bars, looks more like a madhouse than a Methodist meeting place.(17) Religious fanaticism was likened to not only madness during this period but also to carnal desire. Robert Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy (1621) associates religious melancholy with "Love-Madness," which he describes as "a Disease, Phrensy, Madness, Hell." Henry More states that "it is plain in sundry Examples of Enthusiasm, that the more hidden and lurking Fumes of Lust had tainted the Fancies of those Pretenders to Prophecy and Inspiration."(18) Bishop Lavington was of the opinion that "these excesses of the spiritual and carnal affections are nearer allied than is generally thought," and, interestingly, an anonymous pamphlet even reports The Amorous Humours of One Whitefield.(19) How appropriate to find that, in the right-hand corner of his print, Hogarth has provided a mental thermometer that rises out of a "Methodist's Brain." The mercury here measures states of enthusiasm and insanity, ranging from cold, melancholic conditions such as "Low Spirits," "Settled Grief," and even "Suicide" to hot states of sexual excitement, first "Love Heat," "Lust," and "Extacy," and then "Convulsion Fits" and "Raving." Correspondingly, the preacher's enthusiasm has turned into sexual arousal, for the edging of the pulpit cushion, converging in a tassel at the corner, looks like an erect penis as it seems to protrude from a significant part of his harlequin's suit. Thermometer scales were frequently used by eighteenth-century satirists to describe human passions. The Connoisseur 85 (September 11, 1754) gives an account of a "Female Thermometer" that indicates "the exact temperature of a lady's passions" and includes "Inviolable Modesty," "Indiscretions," "Innocent Freedoms," "Loose Behaviour," "Gallantry," and "Abandoned Impudence." Henry Fielding's True Patriot 22 (March 25-April 1, 1746) describes a "WeatherGlass of Wit" that could indicate the "Degree of Heat or Coldness in the Understanding." It runs from "Vivacity" to "True Wit, or Fire" and "Wildness" up to "Madness," the "raving point."(20) Later in the century even the Methodists knew "Spiritual Barometers" or "Scales of the progress of Sin and of Grace," which accompanied the faithful on their way through life, indicating whether they were on the path of righteousness. Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism ironically connects the satirical uses of thermometry with the strange contemporary views of mental barometry. We recognize most of the thermometer's different degrees of mood in the behavior and faces of the congregation. Thus, on the left, a woman has fallen to the ground, "all over convulsed"(21) and is giving birth to rabbits. In 1726 a certain Mary Toft had caused considerable uproar when she claimed she could actually give birth to rabbits. She had fooled several physicians and obstetricians and the outrage had prompted Hogarth to make an earlier print of the subject, Cunicularii; or, The Wise Men of Godliman in Consultation [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURE 5 OMITTED].(22) In this print the sexual connotations are unambiguous. The curtains of the four-poster bed on which Mary Toft lies resemble the female vulva. The title of the print, which is the Latin word for tunnelers, likewise plays on the pun of cuniculus (the Latin word for rabbit) and cunnus (the pudenda),(23) and an "Occult Philosopher" reaches under Mary Toft's dress, shouting: "It Pouts it swells, it spreads it comes." Below Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism, there is a warning caption quoted from 1 John 4:1: "Believe not every Spirit; but try the Spirits whether they are of God: because many false Prophets are gone out into the World." As we have seen, the "false prophet" here is Whitefield; "Believe not every spirit," however, may well be a pun referring to the Methodist belief in ghosts. The lay preacher beneath the pulpit uses a little white figure holding a candle as a sexual stimulant as he slips it into the bodice of an enraptured girl. We find the same figure in the hands of several members of the congregation. These little figures represent the Cock Lane Ghost, which made headlines early in 1762. The Cock Lane Ghost story was started by the Methodist Richard Parsons, who claimed to hear strange noises in his house at night, "like knuckles knocking against the wainscot," particularly in the bedchamber of his eleven-year-old daughter. The story was later proved to be a hoax.(24) In Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism, the register plates of the barometer have been replaced by a mock weather house in which the Cock Lane Ghost can be seen knocking a mallet against a wall with a bed and child on the other side. The barometer is accurate in forecasting ghost weather in 1762. The Cock Lane hoax sparked off a period of ghost story revival in which numerous older ghost stories were printed - and often satirized - in contemporary pamphlets and periodicals. One is the story of the Drummer of Tedworth, which is found in Joseph Glanvil's Saducismus Triumphatus (1681).(25) In March 1662 John Mompesson of Tedworth, who held a legal post in the county of Wiltshire, heard the beat of a drum. He sent for the drummer, a certain William Drury, and asked him by what authority he drummed up and down the country. Drury produced a pass and warrant, both of which were counterfeit. The drum was confiscated and kept in Mompesson's house. From then on Mompesson was disturbed by "a very great knocking at his Doors, and the outsides of his House" and frequently by "a Thumping and Drumming." It usually came as the Mompessons "were going to sleep, whether early or late," and it also "came into the Room where the Drum lay." It beat out "Round-heads and Cuckolds, the Tat-too, and several other points of War, as well as any Drummer," and was occasionally "so boisterous and rude, that it hath been heard at a considerable distance in the Fields, and awakened the Neighbours in the Village." According to Glanvil, who examined the case, there was not the slightest doubt about the preternatural cause of the extraordinary events in Mompesson's house. To a friend, however, Drury confessed to having plagued the gentleman at Tedworth, adding that Mompesson "shall never be at quiet, till he hath made me satisfaction for taking away my Drum." This statement brought him to trial for witchcraft. He was condemned to transportation, but ('tis said by raising storms, and affrighting the Seaman) he made a shift to come back again. And 'tis observable, that during all the time of his restraint and absence the house was quiet, but as soon as ever he came back at liberty, the disturbance returned. He had been a Souldier under Cromwel, and used to talk much of Gallant Books he had of an old fellow, who was counted a Wizzard.(26) Hogarth research has ignored the fact that the Drummer story is found in Glanvil's book. Hogarth knew the book well. He uses the inscription "Glanvil on Witches" on one of the books placed under the Methodist's brain in Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism, and has depicted the Drummer at the top of the mental thermometer. "Glanvil on Witches" is placed beneath "Westley's Sermons."(27) In his diaries, Wesley writes about ghosts and miracles as experienced by his followers, and even claims that not to believe in ghosts was tantamount to denying the truth of the Bible. In one of his letters we read that he had no doubt about the truth of Glanvil's accounts.(28) In fact, Wesley and Glanvil agreed on many points. In Saducismus Triumphatus, Glanvil points out the close relationship between the mainstays of Christian religion (angels, the Holy Ghost, the resurrection of the body and immortality of the soul) and the supernatural (sorcery, witchcraft, spirits). The three puppets dangling around the pulpit also represent well-known ghosts. On the left, the bespectacled female puppet holding a candle and looking into a book with the name "Mrs. Veal" printed in it refers to Margaret Veal, who died in Dover on September 7, 1705, and is said to have appeared to her friend Mrs. Bargrave in Canterbury on the following day. This popular ghost story was first published in the Loyal Post 14 (December 24, 1705). Daniel Defoe, who believed in ghosts, embellished the account and published it in July 1706 as A True Relation of the Apparition of One Mrs. Veal.(29) This was still popular in 1762. The central puppet is Julius Caesar, in Roman toga and crown of laurel, a candle in one hand. He has just been stabbed and is now looking at himself in the mirror. This puppet surely alludes to Caesar's ghost appearing to Brutus in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar (4.3.275 ff., and 5.5.17 ff.), as the three daggers in the puppet's breast remind us of Caesar's murder (3.1). It is interesting to remember here that for their own amusement, Hogarth, the actor David Garrick, and their friend Dr. John Hoadly had once, in a bawdy private play called Ragandjaw, parodied the quarrel scene between Brutus and Cassius in Julius Caesar. Hogarth himself played Grilliardo, the Devil's Cook, replacing Caesar's ghost.(30) In the Spectator 44 (April 20, 1711) Joseph Addison wrote: "there is nothing which delights and terrifies our English Theatre so much as a Ghost, especially when he appears in a bloody Shirt."(31) Hogarth may well have been thinking of such common stage tricks, ironically relating them to the methods used by Methodist preachers to frighten their followers. The name of the third puppet ghost appears in the open book held in his left hand, "Sr. Geoe. Villers." Here Hogarth refers to Sir George Villiers of Brookesby, who is said to have returned as a ghost after his death and prophesied the murder of his son, the famous first duke of Buckingham.(32) The ghost depicted in Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism is wearing typical early-seventeenth-century dress. What is more, Hogarth's George Villiers resembles contemporary portraits of the duke of Buckingham painted by Daniel Mytens the Elder or Michiel Jansz. van Miereveld,(33) no doubt in order to stress the identity of this puppet through family resemblance. According to several contemporaries, Whitefield's followers were largely illiterate proletarians,(34) the class thought particularly susceptible to superstitious belief in spirits and witchcraft. Significantly, below the lectern in Hogarth's print a poorly clad figure in rags clasps a gin bottle. Instead of liquid spirits a Cock Lane Ghost is rising from the bottle. The crouching figure is spitting out nails, which made John Ireland think it was the Boy of Bilson, a twelve-year-old named William Perry who in 1620 claimed to have been bewitched by an old woman and "brought up Pins, Wool, knotted-Leaves, Feathers, &c." or even "a knitting Needle folded up in divers Folds."(35) In my opinion, the figure looks more like a stout adult than a little boy of twelve, and the shoeblack's tools and a copy of "Whitfield's Journal"(36) in the basket at his side indicate him to be a Methodist shoeblack, which William Perry was not. The shoeblack's basket is placed on King James's Daemonologie (1597). James I was known to be a fierce witch hunter.(37) John Trusler, the first to describe Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism, spoke of a bewitched female nail-spitting shoeblack.(38) This would fit perfectly, as a shoeblack could certainly be seen as lower-class. The World 34 (August 23, 1753) ironically reported, "If a woman, turned of eighty, with . . . a high-crowned hat on, should be seen riding upon a broomstick through the air . . . you may almost swear that she is a Witch." In addition, English witches were accompanied by so-called "imps," small creatures often in the form of animals, such as cats, which the witches fed with their own blood.(39) It is a witch that the preacher holds high above the congregation in Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism. Hogarth places the Methodist's new belief that the Holy Ghost influences the soul directly on the same level as the superstitious belief in ghosts and witches. The print is an attack on both. We note that a little demon standing on the edge of the front pew is whispering the new truths into the ear of a man who has fallen asleep. At the left a Turk peering through the window looks rather astonished at the strange scene. Foreign observers were frequently used by contemporary satirists to denounce the "alien" customs of the realm.(40) In 1761, the London Magazine reproached John Wesley for being "a very great enthusiast, with no more knowledge of and esteem for the holy Scriptures than a Mahommedan."(41) In Hogarth's print, the Mohammedan represents not the "primitive barbarity," unbelief, ignorance, and lasciviousness of the Turks so often described in contemporary literature(42) but, ironically, the rational, enlightened part of mankind looking down on Christian fanatics with surprise and disgust. The bottom of the mental thermometer registers "Suicide." This is obviously a dig at the tendency among Methodists to commit suicide in order to be united with Christ in heaven. On August 20, 1740, Whitefield, recovering from a collapse he had suffered after preaching, wrote a letter to his mother from Charleston, South Carolina, in which he mentioned that he had "a desire to depart, and to be with Christ." The Lloyd's Evening Post, August 20, 1742, attributed the suicide of a wealthy shoemaker shortly after hearing a sermon at the Foundery (the London meeting place of the Wesleyans) to the Methodists working on his soul.(43) Proneness to suicide was not limited to Methodists; widespread in England, it was known as the "English desease."(44) Innumerable articles dealt with the subject, trying to establish the cause of the deadly tendency. An analysis appeared in the Connoisseur 50 (January 9, 1755): . . . it must be confessed that Suicide begins to prevail so generally, that it is the most gallant exploit, by which our modern heroes chuse to signalize themselves. . . . The cause of these frequent Self-murders among us has been generally imputed to the peculiar temperature of our climate. Thus a dull day is looked upon as a natural order of execution, and Englishmen must necessarily shoot, hang, and drown themselves in November. That our spirits are in some measure influenced by the air cannot be denied, but we are not such mere Barometers as to be driven to despair and death by the small degree of gloom that our winter brings with it. . . . I can never be persuaded that being born near the North-pole is a physical cause for Self-Murder. Hogarth has put "Suicide" at the lowest, coldest point on the mental thermometer's scale. But at this Methodist meeting the mood will no doubt rise, and at "Luke Warm" the danger of suicide is slight. The word "Lust" appears on the scale in capital letters and surrounded by a halo. Hogarth seems to indicate this was a mood particularly appreciated by the Methodists. The word "Love" in Whitefield's "Hymn" on the lectern also has a halo. Sensuality and sexuality appear in direct analogy with enthusiastic religious zeal throughout the print. In the end this carnal fervor will drive people raving mad, as the top of the scale on Hogarth's thermometer indicates. The layers of meaning behind Hogarth's print become clearer still if we consider its first state: Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism is a reworking of Enthusiasm Delineated, which was engraved on the same copperplate a year earlier. Only two proofs of this print exist, one in the British Museum, the other [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURE 2 OMITTED] in the Achenbach Foundation for Graphic Arts in San Francisco.(45) To explain why Hogarth decided to rework the plate, John Ireland says that "some friends suggested" that the satire "would be mistaken, and that there might be those who would suppose his arrows were aimed at religion [in general]. . . ." John Thomas Smith, whose father knew Hogarth well, states that Hogarth's friend Dr. John Hoadly did not approve of "the first state of Enthusiasm Displayed, which had Mr. Garrick or Dr. Johnson seen, they could never for a moment have entertained their high esteem of so irreligious a character [i.e., Hogarth]."(46) These two statements indicate that there must be irreligious, atheistic, or blasphemous motifs in Enthusiasm Delineated that are more far-reaching than the mere attacks on Methodist belief in the second state, and that they would have upset the general religious sensibilities of Hogarth's contemporaries and disturbed even his friends. These motifs, which do not appear in Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism, no doubt point to the different content of the first state of the print. Although Enthusiasm Delineated, like Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism, appears to be a biting satire of Methodist enthusiasm, the real target of the attack is, in my opinion, not religious fanaticism but enthusiasm in general and, in particular, the zealous predilection of misguided connoisseurs for traditional, "sublime" religious art. At first the scenes appear similar: the spartan interior of a Methodist meeting place, a raving congregation, a fanatic preacher. At closer view, however, it becomes clear that Hogarth altered almost every detail of Enthusiasm Delineated to produce Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism. The Turk at the window, one or two members of the congregation in the back pews, the preacher, and the devil dangling from his left hand are the only figures to remain untouched. The witch hanging from the preacher's right hand is a reworking of an image of God the Father supported by two angels. Mrs. Veal, Julius Caesar, and Sir George Villiers replace six biblical figures, namely, Adam and Eve, Peter and Paul, and Moses and Aaron. The Cock Lane Ghost images of the second state are figures of Christ in the first. In Enthusiasm Delineated the clerk is not a portrait of George Whitefield, and the shoeblack is a ragged woman hugging an image of Christ, the basket replaced by a howling dog with "Whitfield" on its collar (perhaps a pun on the white collar of a minister, since this is also called a dog collar). The fluttering cherub beside the clerk originally had the legs of a duck. In the pew under the pulpit a lecherous nobleman and his innocent prey, who lets an image of Christ drop, take the place of the lay preacher and the pious young maiden with a Cock Lane Ghost in her bosom. A weeping handcuffed criminal sits in the same pew, his tears collected in a gin bottle by a figure of Christ. Mary Toft has not yet produced her rabbits. Here she is a swooning woman John Ireland believes to be the notorious bawd "Mother" Douglas.(47) The blind man behind her, identified by his long beard as a Jew, stands before an open book (presumably the Old Testament) that shows not a knife inscribed "Bloody" lying on an altar but the Sacrifice of Isaac. In Hogarth's handwritten notes under the British Museum proof, the Methodist's brain is described as a murderer's brain of which the Holy Ghost has taken possession.(48) Accordingly, we find the dove of the Holy Spirit at the top of the mental barometer rather than the Drummer of Tedworth. The key to understanding the meaning behind Enthusiasm Delineated lies in the biblical puppets held in the preacher's hands and dangling around the pulpit. They do not make reference to traditional religious puppet shows, as one might assume.(49) Whitefield and his followers, like the Puritans a century before, regarded the stage as an immoral institution and condemned both "profane" dramatic performances and puppet shows. In that respect, Hogarth's puppet-playing preacher is here as insincere as he is later in Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism. A closer look at the puppets in Enthusiasm Delineated reveal that they not only represent biblical figures but also allude to well-known works by old masters. God the Father in the preacher's right hand has been taken directly from Raphael's ceiling frescoes of the Vatican Stanza d'Eliodoro [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURES 6, 7 OMITTED], while the devil in his left hand appears to have been borrowed from Peter Paul Rubens. Both proofs of the first state carry a handwritten key to these puppets. Under the British Museum print we read: "Figure A was taken from directly Raphel Urbin, B from Rubens, C from Rembrant, D E F G are imitations."(50) Thus, the puppets on the pulpit also imitate old master works. The two on the left allude to Albrecht Durer's famous print Adam and Eve (1504). At the same time their jointed limbs hint at the "impracticable rules of proportion" that Hogarth found in Durer's posthumous treatise on human proportion, the Vier Bucher von menschlicher Proportion (1528).(51) The next two represent Peter pulling poor Paul's periwig, Peter a satiric quotation from Rembrandt's etching Peter and John Healing the Cripple at the Gate of the Temple (1659, [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURES 8, 9 OMITTED]).(52) On the right, the horned Moses with his long waving beard may faintly echo the horns and beard of Michelangelo's famous sculpture Moses. Through these puppets the secondary meaning of the scene, hidden behind a veil of anti-Methodist satire, becomes clear. We are looking at an auction of pictures in which a fashionable auctioneer, disguised as a fanatic preacher, extols to art enthusiasts old master works in the ridiculous, disparaging form of puppets. It must be remembered here that eighteenth-century auctioneers were also art dealers. Famous for their eloquence, they often stood on raised, pulpitlike podiums in order to make themselves heard. Satirical plays of the period, such as Samuel Foote's Taste (1752), which was performed at the Drury Lane Theatre in April 1761, and contemporary prints, such as The Auction; or, Modern Conoisseurs [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURE 10 OMITTED] testify to this.(53) Referring to London picture auctions, Hogarth's French friend Jean Andre Rouquet wrote: "The auctioneer mounts with a great deal of gravity, salutes the assembly, and prepares himself a little, like an orator, to perform his office with all the gracefulness and eloquence of which he is master."(54) Hogarth, wishing to ridicule such auctions, could not have done better than to choose a glib Methodist preacher to stand for his art dealer. To underline Hogarth's critical stance toward misplaced devotion to the works of old masters, the fanatic congregation represents not only Methodist fanaticism but all forms of negative "enthusiasm." The blind Jew in awe of the Sacrifice of Isaac stands for blind obedience. The deist Thomas Morgan described Abraham's action as a perfect example of "irrational enthusiastic persuasion."(55) It has escaped scholars' attention, however, that Hogarth's Jew is a perfect example of another kind of irrational persuasion: he is a bigot of religious art. With blind eyes he adores two pictures borrowed from Raphael's ceiling frescoes in the Vatican Stanza d'Eliodoro. The puppet he looks up at alludes to Raphael's God Appears to Noah [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURE 7 OMITTED], the small picture in his bible to Raphael's Sacrifice of Isaac [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURES 11, 12 OMITTED].(56) Attached to the clerk's lectern in both states are words from Whitefield's Collection of Hymns for Social Worship (1753): Mutual Love the Token be, Lord, that we belong to thee! Love thy Image, Love impart, Stamp it fully on each Heart; Only Love to us be giv'n, Lord, we ask no other Heav'n.(57) The writers of such hymns were accused of polluting "the Soul with luscious Images . . . and laying open the Heart to the wild extravagances of frantic Enthusiasm."(58) The women hugging Jesus figures stress the Methodist quasi-erotic "mutual union" with Christ.(59) Love of images, such as these figures of Christ, however, was not typically Methodist and seems to point more to Roman Catholic idolatry. Indeed, Bishop Lavington compared Methodist "irregular and unjustifiable Behaviour" at Holy Communion to the popish enthusiasts' "Rapture and Ecstacy at the Sacrament."(60) Henry Wharton included Transubstantiation among the "Enthusiastick Visions and Revelations of the Church of Rome."(61) In Enthusiasm Delineated the "real barbarousness" of literally eating the actual "flesh of the Son of man," already criticized by Bishop Tillotson,(62) is gruesomely represented by three women devouring figures of Christ. As the Christ figures are borrowed from Rembrandt's famous Hundred Guilder Print [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURES 13-15 OMITTED], highly esteemed by English art collectors after 1750,(63) the fanatic behavior of the communicants is here surely meant to ridicule the appetite of art lovers for old master pictures. A proneness to murder was also thought to be "enthusiastic."(64) The melancholic handcuffed wretch weeping in the pew on the right is, to my mind, not a mere repentant thief, as scholars hitherto have believed, but a portrait of the Swiss enameler Theodore Gardelle, an "overenthusiastic" artist who brutally murdered his landlady on February 19, 1761, quite near to where Hogarth lived. If this is correct, it would help to pinpoint the date of Enthusiasm Delineated.(65) The dove of the Holy Ghost is found at the top of the spiritual barometer and again in the brain at the lower right of the print. According to Hogarth's handwritten notes on the British Museum proof, the silhouette of the dove in the human brain "shews the true in Dwelling place of the Holy Spirit from the Imaginary." Hogarth emphasizes that "this mark of Salvation appear[s] but faintly in the Brain unless the person has commit[ted] a murder in his lif[e]time." As the dove here is clear, it must be the brain of a murderer, presumably Gardelle's, showing how very bewildered this artist has been by divine inspiration, the traditional origin of artistic enthusiasm. The mental thermometer seems to indicate the stages of Gardelle's enthusiasm, from the "hot" state of sexual excitement during the sex murder to "cold" melancholy conditions while awaiting execution. The weather scale, which includes "joyful," "pleased," "changeable," "angry," and "wrathful," indicates the mood of the Holy Ghost. Here it reads "angry," meaning that God does not approve of the artistic enthusiasm shown in the print. "The Painter, as well as the Poet," says Hildebrand Jacob, "must be an Enthusiast in his Art, to succeed in it as he ought."(66) According to Roger de Piles, "enthusiasm is a rapture that carries the soul above the sublime, of which it is the source." This transport of the mind, however, costs "the painter a course of labour, and repeated efforts, to heat his imagination, and bring his work to the perfection of enthusiasm." The author even recommends that such artists "as burn with gentle fire, and have but a moderate vivacity. . . may slide into enthusiasm by degrees," as there are "many ways of attaining it."(67) Friedrich Melchior von Grimm wrote in 1755 that "the passions inspired by fanaticism and accompanied by enthusiasm are eminently suited to a sublime brush, and our religion offers countless subjects of this kind."(68) In 1759, Joshua Reynolds, in his three essays for Samuel Johnson's weekly paper the Idler, argued against artists who mechanically imitate common nature and recommends "a little more Enthusiasm to the modern Painters."(69) In his "Letter to the Reverend Author of 'Remarks, Critical and Christian, on The Minor'" (1760) Samuel Foote, the Hogarth supporter and actor, offers a definition: Enthusiasm in arts, is that effort of genius, that glow of fancy, that ethereal fire, which, at particular times, transports the artist beyond the limits of his usual execution, and produces a height of perfection which, in his cooler hour, is astonishing even to himself. Nor is this Promethean heat, this divine fervour, confined to any particular subject; but is as discernible in a Hudibras as a Milton; in the comic pencil of a Hogarth as the serious designs of a Raphael. With this last kind of enthusiasm the Methodists have little to do: and indeed it very rarely falls out, that they who are possessed by the one are happy in the enjoyment of the other.(70) Foote makes a clear distinction between (negative) religious enthusiasm and the ingenious (positive) enthusiasm of the true artist. John Byrom, in his poetical essay Enthusiasm, adds "critics," "virtuosos," and "connoisseurs" to the widespread enthusiasts of his time.(71) Hogarth, the hardworking self-made artist, opposed all such ideas of artistic enthusiasm.(72) In Enthusiasm Delineated he takes his skepticism to an extreme and puts all forms of enthusiasm, be it of a Methodist, an artist, or a connoisseur, on the same base level. Everybody in the print is indulging in sexual excesses in one form or another or is caught up in raving or melancholy madness. To steer the viewer's attention toward art enthusiasts, the main target of Enthusiasm Delineated, Hogarth pokes fun at high art throughout the print. The distorted faces of the congregation allude to the French academy, which placed great emphasis on the correct representation of the human passions.(73) They remind one of the extreme passions recommended for history painting by Charles Le Brun in his Methode pour apprendre a dessiner les passions (1698):(74) "Horrour," "Fright," or "Extream bodily Pain." The face of the "Globe of Hell," surprised at the activity below, is remarkably like Le Brun's passion of "Astonishment" [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURES 16, 17 OMITTED]. The young woman beneath the pulpit aroused by the caress of the lecherous aristocrat resembles Le Brun's passion of "Pure Love" [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURE 18, 19 OMITTED]. In this connection one might also mention the suggestive shape of the "Poors Box" placed close to the area of her genitals. In 1760, Daniel Webb, in his Enquiry into the Beauties of Painting, had criticized religious art for its inability to represent passions. Hogarth, with typical irony, demonstrates that he was able to place almost every passion recommended by Charles Le Brun for historical paintings in a single, "religious" print. There are many satirical references to religious art in the print. The composition itself picks up on the traditional figura piramidale. God the Father, with his mock symbol of the Trinity, is at the top, but the two Christ figures that form the base (the one swinging up, the other falling down) create anything but a stable composition [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURE 20 OMITTED]. I believe the "fallen" woman on the left to be a parody of a fainted Mater Dolorosa in a Lamentation or Pieta, as found, for example, in Correggio's Compianto su Cristo Morto [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURES 21, 22 OMITTED], rather than an allusion to Giovanni Lanfranco's painting of Saint Margaret of Cortona in Ecstasy (1618-20, Pitti Palace, Florence), as Ronald Paulson sees it.(75) The motif of the Christ figure rising from between the legs of this woman may, apart from its sexual connotations, even suggest the Resurrection. The dark-skinned melancholic woman mendicant (until recently considered to be a chimney sweep) sitting in front of the clerk's lectern fondling a figure of Christ seems to parody a Madonna of Humility or a Baroque "Black Virgin" holding her child. Another sideswipe at Christian iconography is the howling dog sitting on its cushion beneath the top of the clerk's lectern in much the same way as the bellowing pulpiteer is standing in his pulpit below the sounding board: this dog, in line with the Doctors of the Church, ironically symbolizes a preacher, as it did in traditional religious motifs, where it is a specific attribute of Saints Dominic and Augustine.(76) The duck feet of one of the putti on either side of the clerk parody the overblown cherubim in Renaissance and Baroque art. The pulpiteer or auctioneer holds "sublime" art (Raphael's God and Rubens's Devil) aloft. Unused puppets dangle from the pulpit. All are distorted versions of old master figures and ridicule "high" religious art. Peter and Paul [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURE 8 OMITTED], for instance, are represented in the "low," "burlesque" Dutch manner, which, according to Horace Walpole, could only mimic "Nature's most uncomely coarsenesses."(77) Peter is corpulent and has his feet turned out; Paul, with periwig and "a beard of Hudibrastic cut and dye,"(78) has his right arm attached clumsily to his shoulder. To a connoisseur with high ideals of proportion and anatomy all this would seem dreadfully inappropriate. Ten years earlier Hogarth had ridiculed the "true Dutch taste" in his print Paul before Felix Burlesqued (1751), which contains similar deliberate mistakes and anachronisms.(79) What has gone unnoticed, however, is that in Enthusiasm Delineated the preacher's two arms form the beam of a scales on which the puppets, representing not only heaven and hell but classic and Baroque art as well, are being "weighed" against each other. What could Hogarth's reason have been for echoing the traditional symbol for weighing right against wrong? To my mind, he intended to satirize Roger de Piles's notorious Balance des peintres, the bible for eighteenth-century connoisseurs of painting. This Balance, which had been published as an appendix to de Piles's Cours de peinture par principes (1708), rated the strengths and weaknesses of the great Renaissance and Baroque painters according to a point system based on four academic classifications: "composition," "drawing," "color," and "expression."(80) The champions of this Balance are Raphael and Rubens. Although neither reaches the highest possible degree of perfection in any category, both attain a total of sixty-five points. Compared with these two, all other artists must invariably pale into insignificance.(81) Seen in this light, it is certainly no coincidence that the preacher in Enthusiasm Delineated is weighing visual references to works by the de Piles favorites. The unused puppets also represent painters named in the Balance des peintres. With a total of fifty points, Rembrandt lags far behind Raphael and Rubens; thus, his Peter is rightly placed not in the preacher's hand but one level lower. Durer's Adam and Eve and, perhaps, Michelangelo's Moses, of which numerous engravings circulated all over Europe, suffer an equal fate on Hogarth's pulpit. De Piles gave Durer a total of only thirty-six points and Michelangelo thirty-seven. Admittedly, Hogarth's source in Enthusiasm Delineated is not Michelangelo the painter, as in de Piles's Balance. The horns and beard of the marionette Moses may allude to the famous statue for the tomb of Pope Julius II, since it had been attacked by Jonathan Richardson, in An Account of Some of the Statues, Bas-reliefs, Drawings and Pictures in Italy (1722), the English Grand Tourists' bible, for having "the air of a goat."(82) Making it evident that the preacher in Enthusiasm Delineated is judging works of "high" art in the way recommended by de Piles's Balance, the handwritten notes of the British Museum proof include, bottom left, a sketch labeled "the Scales" [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURE 23 OMITTED]. Hogarth was no friend of the French or of any traditional academy. In his manuscript "Apology for Painters" (ca. 1761), he wrote of the French academy: "Voltaire observes after that establishment no work of genious appeard for says he they all became imitators and mannerists."(83) In his Analysis of Beauty, he likewise denigrated the French school: "indeed France hath not produced one remarkable good colourist."(84) No wonder, then, that Hogarth in Enthusiasm Delineated derides the Paris academicians' shopworn idea of using a point system to judge the old master paintings and likens de Piles's Balance to a zany preacher's puppet show. In this period, fanatic Methodists and puppet players were accepted objects of ridicule.(85) Measuring is an important theme throughout Hogarth's print. The mental thermometer on the right, which in Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism measures only the congregation's state of religious enthusiasm or insanity, in Enthusiasm Delineated is also (if not primarily) a gauge of an art lover's mad craving to possess an old master painting. Near the pulpit we find the preacher's "Scale of Vociferation," which, in Enthusiasm Delineated, culminates in the cry "Chroist Blood Blood Blood." This alludes not only to George Whitefield's powerful sermons and his pronunciation of certain words, such as Lurd instead of Lord, or Gud instead of God,(86) but also to the eloquence of an auctioneer who was able to use his voice to entice uncritical connoisseurs into buying poor copies of "high" art, particularly Baroque representations of Christ dripping with blood as he is crowned with thorns or nailed to the Cross. Not incidentally, such motifs were judged "sublime" by contemporary critics like Edmund Burke.(87) Eighteenth-century critics repeatedly refer to the Balance des peintres. In Paul Sandby's anti-Hogarth caricature The Burlesquer Burlesqued (1754, [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURE 24 OMITTED])(88) a benevolent art critic watching Hogarth painting has a pair of scales suspended by a cord over his shoulder. This motif must surely be a reference to de Piles's Balance, which was, apparently, the constant companion of any self-respecting self-styled connoisseur during this period. In France, Jean Baptiste DuBos, in his Reflexions critiques sur la poesie et sur la peinture (1719), commends de Piles's Balance, though he regrets that there is no distinction made between a "picturesque composition" and a "poetic composition."(89) In England, Jonathan Richardson, in his Essay on the Theory of Painting (1715), picked up on de Piles's method and enlarged the basis of assessment by introducing three further categories: "Invention," "Handling," and "Grace and Greatness."(90) In his Essay On the Whole Art of Criticism as It Relates to Painting (1719) he likewise praises de Piles's "pretty Invention of a Scale" as being "with a little Alteration and Improvement . . . of great use to Lovers of Art, and Connoisseurs."(91) De Piles's method also influenced some passages in Joseph Spence's Crito; or, A Dialogue on Beauty (1752), published under the pseudonym of Sir Harry Beaumont. Crito endeavors to set down a count system of the factors that give rise to beauty.(92) What deserves our attention in this connection is that Spence's system was criticized by Hogarth's friend Allan Ramsay. In his Dialogue on Taste, published anonymously in the Investigator (1755), Ramsay wrote that any attempt to discover the universal principle of pleasure by analysis must be fruitless; and the philosopher who engages in such business, after finding that he has been gravely measuring a dream with a pair of compasses, will probably return at last to the je ne scay quoy, upon which he had at first disdainfully turned his back.(93) Ramsay dismisses Sir Harry Beaumont's tables of beauty as "very unscholarlike" and a method that "would hardly pass muster at the Royal Society." He added that the "rule of three or rule of proportion," as "a golden rule in comparing beauties. . ." is performed . . . by multiplying the first by the second, and dividing by the third; and being curious this morning to know with exactness how much Mrs. D----- excelled in beauty Mrs. C-----, I thus stated the question, as a cat is to a wheel-barrow so is Mrs. C----- to Mrs. D-----; but tho' I try'd till my brain was ready to crack, I never could contrive how to multiply a cat by a wheel-barrow; so I could go no farther in my calculations. Now if you or any other virtuoso could fall upon the method of multiplying and dividing such matters; I am persuaded you would find out a certain method of gauging every woman's beauty, and prevent it from being any longer left to the particular whim of ignorant people. . . . such comparisons will always be odious, and it is no wonder, for they will always be absurd. Thus, it would be better to "leave the beauties of nature, where every thing is perfect in itself, to every one's particular taste, without attempting to dispute or compare them."(94) To Ramsay's friend Hogarth, who likewise praised the beauties of nature as they were, de Piles's artificial point system can only have seemed ludicrous. In ridiculing it, he followed the example set by contemporary English satirists, who attacked de Piles's (and Richardson's revised) Balance in fighting against the all-too-strict rules of art. In Laurence Sterne's Tristram Shandy (1759), for instance, Shandy goes so far as to assess the stylistic qualities of the dedication in a book according to criteria normally applicable only to painters: The design, your Lordship sees, is good, the colouring transparent, - the drawing not amiss; - or to speak more like a man of science, - and measure my piece in the painter's scale, divided into 20, - I believe, my Lord, the outlines will turn out at 12, - the composition as 9, - the colouring as 6, - the expression 13 and a half, - and the design, - if I may be allowed, my Lord, to understand my own design, and supposing absolute perfection in designing, to be as 20, - I think it cannot well fall short of 19.(95) Enthusiasm Delineated picks up on the scales motif and relates it ironically to the "high" art so idolized in England by foolish "Connoisseurs." It turns their own nonsensical scale of values against them in satire. In the first half of 1761, the time was ripe for Hogarth to join the ranks against the followers of de Piles. About this time he began writing his Apology for Painters, which, like Enthusiasm Delineated, criticized the theory of art favored by contemporary connoisseurs. John Oakly, a Hogarth supporter, attacked the connoisseurs in two articles in the St. James's Chronicle in April and May 1761.(96) Also in May, the author of A Call to the Connoisseurs, a certain "T.B." who was in all probability the young James Barry with his publisher Thomas Becket,(97) complained of how connoisseurs were suppressing local artists. Enthusiasm Delineated, however, is probably the first criticism of de Piles's Balance des peintres to come from a painter, who, as a painter, felt the need to preserve his own integrity as a visual artist. It is certainly the first, if not the only, criticism to be expressed entirely on a painter's terms. As Hogarth never published his attack on academic connoisseurship, the original intention of his print was lost. Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism, the version that came out a year later, is aimed solely at Methodist fanaticism and contains nothing of the ridicule of shopworn views on art he initially intended. Certainly Enthusiasm Delineated, with its clear formal structure, is a more coherent composition. Cluttered with details, such as the many additional people in the background or the cloud with the heavenly postboy's head, Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism is less mature. The proportions of the print have been slightly altered to accommodate such things as the books under the brain or the rabbits hopping out from under Mary Toft's dress. In Enthusiasm Delineated the clerk, placed in the center of the composition, is no doubt the principal figure and might well be a caricature of Samuel Johnson,(98) the editor of the Idler. In Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism, where the figure is turned into a portrait of Whitefield, the common target of anti-Methodist satire, he has lost most of his prominence. No doubt Hogarth compromised on clarity of composition to obliterate his original intent. Probably John Ireland is right in guessing that Hogarth's near scatological treatment of Christian iconography in the first state might have caused a scandal. As even his closest friends, when shown Enthusiasm Delineated, reproached Hogarth for his irreligion, he may well have refrained from publishing the first design because he feared persecution. In his manuscript notes for an autobiography of about 1763, he retrospectively confessed that he "sometimes objected to the Devinity of even Raphael Urbin Corregio and Michael Angelo for which I have been severly treated," and as in his pictures "the life so far surpassed the utmost efforts of imitation," he admitted that by drawing "the comparison in my mind I could not help uttering Blasphemous expression that I fear I fear persecution."(99) For a few months the original plate must have remained untouched in Hogarth's drawer until either January or February 1762, when the Cock Lane Ghost story in the newspaper headlines prompted him to dig out the old plate and use it for a revised print. Focusing on the Methodists and their belief in ghosts meant that he had to eliminate almost every motif of his complex parodic reference to art and aesthetic theory, since George Whitefield, John Wesley, and William Romaine, like the iconoclastic Puritans a century before, regarded (or rather disregarded) painting and sculpture as a distraction to their followers. Certainly it would not have been an easy decision for Hogarth to sacrifice a great deal of clarity of composition by dotting new imagery all over his print, but he must have felt much safer from persecution with his blasphemous art lovers hidden forever behind the "print of the Ghost." Notes I would like to thank Friedrich Wilms, who helped to translate my thoughts into English, and Lory Frankel, Stephen Reader, and Brian Nattress for their suggestions concerning the finer points of the English language. Deep gratitude goes to Stephen Cone Weeks for transferring the rough style of the first draft of the text into polite, fluent English. 1. Warburton to Bishop Thomas Newton, letter of April 17, 1762, quoted in Donald W. Nichol, ed., Pope's Literary Legacy: The Book-Trade Correspondence of William Warburton and John Knapton, with Other Letters and Documents, 17441780 (Oxford: Oxford Biographical Society, 1992), 147-48. See also Paulson, 1993, 366. On Bishop Warburton, see Arthur William Evans, Warburton and the Warburtonians: A Study in Some Eighteenth-Century Controversies (London: Oxford University Press, 1932). 2. See Paulson, 1989, no. 210a [210]. For a full bibliography of this print and all other Hogarth works, the reader may consult my forthcoming annotated two-volume Hogarth Bibliography, 1697-1997. 3. See Paulson, 1989, no. 210 [209]. 4. George Whitefield, A Collection of Hymns for Social Worship, More Particularly Design'd for the Use of the Tabernacle Congregation, in London, 8th ed. (London: William Strahan, 1759), 131. 5. See James Downey, The Eighteenth-Century Pulpit: A Study of the Sermons of Butler, Berkeley, Secker, Sterne, Whitefield and Wesley (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969), 175-76. 6. Eusebius, A Fine Picture of Enthusiasm . . . Wherein the Danger of the Passions Leading in Religion is Strongly Described . . . (London, 1744), quoted in Albert M. Lyles, Methodism Mocked: The Satiric Reaction to Methodism in the Eighteenth Century (London: Epworth Press, 1960), 78-79. 7. One of Whitefield's assistants, Cornelius Winter, remarks that "professed orators might object to his hands being lifted up too high, and it is to be lamented that in that attitude, rather than in any other, he is represented in print"; quoted in Dallimore, vol. 2, 482. See Nathaniel Hone's portrait George Whitefield (ca. 1768, formerly Whitefield Memorial Church, Tottenham Court Road, London) in Dallimore, vol. 2, ills. between pp. 304 and 305, and the many engraved versions after this painting. For the white handkerchief in Whitefield's hand, see the contemporary print The Revd. Mr. Whitefield Preaching on Kennington Common, London, Brit. Mus. Sat. 2430; in Dallimore, vol. 1, ills. between pp. 114 and 115. 8. See John Kerslake, Early Georgian Portraits (London: National Portrait Gallery, 1977), vol. 1,305-7, vol. 2, pl. 872. 9. The Public Advertiser, no. 8237, contained the following message on Mar. 6, 1761: "The Rev. Mr. Whitefield is dangerously ill, but not dead, as mentioned by Mistake in one of Saturday's Evening Papers." 10. Pottinger, quoted in Lyles (as in n. 6), 69. On Whitefield's sizable collections, see also Dallimore, vol. 1, 257-58, 267, 290-92, 481-82, vol. 2, 406. 11. See Theophilus Evans, The History of Modern Enthusiasm, From the Reformation to the Present Times, 2d ed. (London: Printed for the Author, 1757), 119. 12. Henry Wharton includes "Purgatory" among the "peculiar doctrines of the Church of Rome" that "derive their original from Enthusiastick Visions and Revelations"; Wharton, The Enthusiasm of the Church of Rome Demonstrated in Some Observations Upon the Life of Ignatius Loyola (London: R. Chiswell, 1688), 17. It is certainly no coincidence that the inscription on the small globe in Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism reads "Deserts of New Purgatory." 13. George Lavington, The Enthusiasm of Methodists and Papists Compared, 3 vols. (London: J. and P. Knapton, 1749), vol. 1, 9 ff.; Evans (as in n. 11), 24. 14. Romaine, quoted in Gentleman's Magazine 22 (1752): 101. On Romaine's contested professorship, see John Charles Ryle, The Christian Leaders of the Last Century; or, England a Hundred Years Ago (London: T. Nelson and Sons, 1869), 160. 15. In this engraving, the frontispiece to his Explanatory Notes upon the Old Testament (Bristol: W. Pine, 1765), we can see Wesley speaking in the open with one arm lifted high in the air. The cleric's face in Hogarth's print also resembles several portraits of Wesley, a point that has been overlooked by Hogarth scholars so far but was noticed by Dallimore, vol. 1, the commentary on Credulity, Superstition, and Fanaticism accompanying the ills. between pp. 370 and 371. For portraits of Wesley, see Kerslake (as in n. 8), vol. 1, 297-304, and vol. 2, pls. 856 ff. 16. Theophilus Evans wrote of the Methodist preachers that it was "the natural Tendency of their Behaviour, in Voice and gesture and horrid Expressions, to make People mad, which very frequently has indeed been the case with a great many of their Followers"; Evans (as in n. 11), 119. 17. In my opinion, it is not, as Ronald Paulson believes, an interior view of Whitefield's Chapel in Tottenham Court Road, as illustrations of this chapel prove that it had round-arched windows and a vaulted ceiling. See Paulson, 1989, 176; Walter H. Godfrey and W. McB. Marcham, eds., London County Council Survey of London, vol. 21, Tottenham Court Road and Neighbourhood [The Parish of St. Pancras, III] (London: County Council, 1949), 67 ff., pls. 24-26; Dallimore, vol. 2, ills. facing pp. 145 and 304. 18. Robert Burton, The Anatomy of Melancholy, ed. Floyd Dell and Paul Jordan-Smith (New York: Tudor, 1955), 651; Enthusiasm Explained; or, A Discourse on the Nature, Kind, and Cause of Enthusiasm (London: T. Gardner, 1739), 17, which is an abridged 18th-century edition of Henry More's Enthusiasmus Triumphatus (London: J. Flesher, 1656). 19. Lavington (as in n. 13), vol. 1, 59; and Dallimore, vol. 1, 341, who also mentions further anti-Whitefield pamphlets. 20. The Connoisseur, vol. 3, 4th ed. (London: R. Baldwin, 1761), 102-9; Miriam Austin Locke, ed., The True Patriot and the History of Our Own Times (Tuscaloosa, Ala.: University of Alabama Press, 1964), 185-86. The Tatler 220 (Sept. 2-5, 1710) reports on an "Ecclesiastical Thermometer." For further examples, see Terry Castle, The Female Thermometer: Eighteenth-Century Culture and the Invention of the Uncanny (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 21-43, who states (33) that the thermometer in Hogarth's print is "as phallic in design as it is in sensibility." 21. Josiah Tucker reports that during the sermons delivered by John Wesley at his societies in Bristol, "there were Persons that screamed out, and put their Bodies into violent Agitations and Distortions, seeming all over convulsed"; Tucker, Gentleman's Magazine 9 (1739): 295 n. 22. See Paulson, 1989, no. 106 [107]; Dennis Todd, "Three Characters in Hogarth's Cunicularii - and Some Implications," Eighteenth-Century Studies 16 (1982-83): 26-46; Fiona Haslam, From Hogarth to Rowlandson: Medicine in Art in Eighteenth-Century Britain (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1996), 28-51. For the background, see also S. A. Seligman, "Mary Toft - the Rabbit Breeder," Medical History 5 (1961): 349-60; and Dennis Todd, Imagining Monsters: Miscreations of the Self in Eighteenth-Century England (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995), the first half of which extensively deals with the case of Mary Toft. 23. See Wolfgang Kelsch, "William Hogarth: Freimaurer in Portrats und Kupferstichen," Quatuor Coronati Jahrbuch 25 (1988): 43; Ronald Paulson, "Putting Out the Fire in Her Imperial Majesty's Apartment: Opposition Politics, Anticlericalism, and Aesthetics," English Literary History 63 (1996): 93. 24. For full accounts of the story, see Oliver Goldsmith, The Mystery Revealed, Containing a Series of Transactions and Authentic Testimonials, Respecting the Supposed Cock Lane Ghost (London: W. Bristow and C. Ethrington, 1762), repr. in Collected Works of Oliver Goldsmith, vol. 4, ed. Arthur Friedman (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1966), 419-41; Douglas Grant, The Cock Lane Ghost (London: Macmillan, 1965); Emma Clery, The Rise of Supernatural Fiction, 1762-1800 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), chap. 1. 25. Joseph Glanvil, Saducismus Triumphatus; or, Full and Plain Evidence Concerning Witches and Apparitions (London: J. Collins and S. Lownds, 1681), repr. in Collected Works of Joseph Glanvil, vol. 9 (Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1978), 89-117. 26. Ibid., 108-9. 27. John Wesley's ancestors spelled their name Westley. His most important sermons are reprinted in Edward H. Sugden, ed., Wesley's Standard Sermons, 2 vols. (London: Epworth Press, 1921). 28. See W.E.H. Lecky, A History of England in the Eighteenth Century, vol. 3 (London: Longmans, Green, 1892), 92 n. 1. On Wesley's belief in ghosts, see also Luke Tyerman, The Life and Times of the Rev. John Wesley, vol. 1 (London: Hodder and Sloughton, 1870-71), 22-24. In his Journal (May 25, 1768), Wesley wrote, "The English in general, and indeed most of the men of learning in Europe, have given up all accounts of witches and apparitions, as mere old wives' fables. I am sorry for it. . . . They well know. . . that the giving up witchcraft is, in effect, giving up the Bible"; quoted in Lecky, vol. 3, 91-92. 29. Daniel Defoe, Selected Writings of Daniel Defoe, ed. James T. Boulton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975), 132-41. 30. See John Nichols, Biographical Anecdotes of William Hogarth (London: J. Nichols, 1782), 51; Ronald Paulson, Hogarth, vol. 2, High Art and Low, 1732-1750 (New Brunswick, NJ.: Rutgers University Press, 1992), 258-59. 31. Joseph Addison, quoted in The Spectator, vol. 1, ed. Donald F. Bond (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1965), 186. 32. The story again was first published in Glanvil's Saducismus Triumphatus as "Relation XI," another fact that has escaped Hogarth scholars' attention so far. See Glanvil (as in n. 25), 225-27. The spelling "Villers" seems to have been current at that time. See the writing on Peter Lely's portrait of the second duke of Buckingham, reproduced in William Gaunt, Court Painting in England from Tudor to Victorian Times (London: Constable, 1980), 153. 33. See Gaunt (as in n. 32), 69 and ill. facing p. 67; Oliver Millar, The Age of Charles I: Painting in England 1620-1649, exh. cat., Tale...

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