Hogarth's Works, with life and anecdotal descriptions of his pictures. Volume 3 (of 3) — Edition Insights

The Don Quixote Series: A Comparative Lens

The most sustained sequence in this volume is the analysis of Hogarth's eight Don Quixote plates. Ireland and Nichols do not treat these as isolated works; instead, they repeatedly compare them to the designs by Vanderbank in Jarvis's quarto translation. For Plate V, 'Don Quixote Seizes the Barber's Basin for Mambrino's Helmet,' the editors praise Hogarth's 'spirited' knight and the 'triumphant shout of Sancho,' yet they judge Vanderbank's version superior in its 'chosen point of time' and the 'mixture of cunning and simplicity' in Sancho's face.

This comparative approach reveals the editors' criteria: a successful print must capture the narrative's decisive moment and convey character through posture and expression. They note, for instance, that in Plate VI, 'Don Quixote Releases the Galley Slaves,' Hogarth's figures are 'left-handed' because he neglected to reverse his drawing—a technical flaw they point out without diminishing the overall design. Such frank assessments make the commentary a practical lesson in eighteenth-century print criticism.

Character and Expression in the Plates

Ireland and Nichols consistently foreground the psychological accuracy of Hogarth's figures. In Plate VII, 'The First Interview of the Valorous Knight of La Mancha with the Unfortunate Knight of the Rock,' they admire the 'wild eye of Cardenio, the placid benevolence of Don Quixote, and the shrewdness of the goatherd.' This triangulation of expressions is typical of their method: they read faces as indices of inner states.

Elsewhere, describing a print of a woman swearing her child to a grave citizen, they quote a contemporary description of her as 'broad-faced, flat-pated, saddle-nosed, blind of one eye,' and note that the hostess 'could not have been better marked by the pencil of Teniers.' The owl perched over her head, the cracked walls, and the knight's hard pallet all contribute to a 'variety of wretchedness.' Such passages demonstrate how the editors treat Hogarth's details as a visual language, each element reinforcing the scene's moral or emotional tenor.

Technical Observations: Light, Composition, and Flaws

The editors do not shy from technical critique. In Plate IV, they remark that 'the light is more judiciously distributed' than in Vanderbank's version, and they consider the print 'much superior' for that reason. Yet they also note when Hogarth's execution falls short: in Plate VI, the left-handed figures are a clear oversight, and in Plate VIII, they question whether the chosen moment is the most effective.

These observations are not mere pedantry; they serve to educate the reader in the principles of graphic art. The editors compare the 'tame, feeble, and spiritless' quality of Vanderbank's thieves, who have 'the countenances of apostles,' to Hogarth's more vigorous characterizations. By pointing out what works and what does not, they equip the reader to see prints with a more discerning eye. The volume thus functions as a practical handbook for evaluating narrative art, grounded in the specific examples of Hogarth's oeuvre.

Anecdotal Context and Biographical Framing

Interspersed with the plate descriptions are biographical anecdotes and historical notes. The volume includes Hogarth's manuscript dedication for a projected 'History of the Arts,' a list of plates with page numbers, and references to earlier volumes in the series. The editors, John Ireland and John Nichols, were themselves antiquaries and biographers; their commentary often draws on personal knowledge or contemporary accounts.

For instance, they mention that the 'Dolphin Candlestick' is described on page 123, and they include a facsimile of Hogarth's autograph. These details anchor the prints in a lived context, reminding the reader that Hogarth was not a remote genius but a working artist navigating the London art world. The volume's structure—alternating between plate descriptions and biographical material—mirrors the dual purpose of the work: to document Hogarth's achievement while also preserving the anecdotes that surrounded his life and reputation.

Readers approaching this volume for the first time will find it most rewarding if they have the plates themselves at hand. The commentary assumes familiarity with the images and often refers to specific details—a gesture, a shadow, a misplaced hand—that are invisible without the print. Because the editors frequently compare Hogarth to Vanderbank, it may also be useful to consult the latter's designs, though the volume's arguments stand on their own. Treat the text as a guided tour by two knowledgeable connoisseurs who are unafraid to point out both brilliance and blemish.

The rain kept me indoors with Hogarth’s Don Quixote plates, his wild, lean knight stumbling through ink. I found myself thinking about how a single line can carry a whole character’s stubbornness. Later, drying the windowsill, I picked up something lighter—Americans, Drawn by Charles Dana Gibson — Reading Notes. His pen had a different gentleness, but the same quiet attention to a tilted chin.