In 1749 William Hogarth (1697-1764) bought his modest little country home, a five-minute  walk from the Third Earl of Burlington’s (1694-1753) Chiswick House which had been completed twenty years earlier and is one of the most important neo-Palladian villas in England. The contrast is still apparent to visitors who can easily explore both houses in a day. It is not just an architectural contrast, but one between their respective owners. Their class, wealth, motivations, and their ambitions for cultural impact have few points of contact. But it is interesting to consider that as Hogarth worked in the ‘painting room’ in his garden, the elegant traffic passing close by may have carried many of the subjects of his ire and satire between fashionable London and the Earl’s country residence. The achievements of his sometime rival and Burlington’s adviser William Kent (1685-1748) who had just died were evident for all to enjoy in the gleaming building and harmonious garden design. Hogarth famously described him: Neither England nor Italy ever produced a more contemptible dauber…And yet he gained the prize at Rome, in England had the first people as his patrons, and to crown the whole, was appointed painter to the King … (quoted in J. Timbs, Anecdote Biography, London: 1860, p.18)

In Chiswick House, Hogarth’s only (attributed) artistic contribution can be seen in the admiring figures added to his friend George Lambert’s painting of the View from the Cascade Terrace (c.1741, Chiswick House). A second version of the painting (1742) has different figures on the terrace. We do not know whether Hogarth accompanied Lambert when he made his preparatory sketches, or whether he frequently joined the promenading crowds there when he became a Chiswick resident.

Hogarth’s views on privilege, power and hypocrisy and his sensitivities to criticism are evident in his satires and well documented. He did not spare Burlington in his work. His Masquerades and Operas which satirised the ‘bad taste of the town’ (1724) and Taste, or Burlington Gate (1732), mock Burlington and his collaborators for their artistic pretensions and damaging influence on English culture. Did these make him an uneasy neighbour during Burlington’s last years? His Modern Moral Series of popular prints, produced in the 1730s, examined the moral life of the nation, and frequently feature in exhibitions exploring eighteenth-century taste, luxury and values. His depictions of the mechanisms of legal and civic authority are less often the specific focus, and so the small display at Hogarth’s House is particularly welcome. In the year of a national election in Britain we are reminded of the evolution of our democratic representation. What is perhaps a surprising point made by this display is that the voice of the people in the limited franchise at that time was more influential than we might assume.

The introductory wall label informs us that as well as being an election year 2015 marks fifty years since London Boroughs were formed, preparing us for the examination of civic life which forms an important element of the display. The exhibition aims to identify political details in Hogarth’s work, many of which are not part of the main subject matter. Hogarth’s work carefully analysed and unpicked the fabric of polite society, and undeniably confronted the moral heart of London, so close attention to these details is an interesting addition to Hogarth discussion. The first image is of Ebenezer Forrest, Hogarth’s politician friend, who is depicted reading a newspaper so intently that he has set his hat on fire. Since Hogarth’s widow arranged the publication of this print in 1775, we might assume that she felt this was a significant subject, a tribute, a financially viable investment and perhaps a confirmation that her husband’s circle was wide and influential. The Forrest family were close to the Hogarths. In the room opposite the exhibition is a very skilled portrait in crayon of Mary Lewis (1783), Jane Hogarth’s cousin and companion, by Ebenezer’s son Theodosius (1728-1784). Interestingly, he studied with George Lambert and exhibited at the Royal Academy before following his father into the legal profession. This first image tells us that political awareness and debate permeated Hogarth’s circle and was integral to his art and personal mission.

The second opening image is Crowns, Mitres, Maces (1754), which served as the receipt for the Election subscription series, and which a brief label tells us ‘shows the symbols of power and government’. There is no room for lengthy detail in the context of the exhibition, but the jumble of objects beneath the rays of a crown (the design hinting at masonic symbols) includes the crowns of temporal and ecclesiastical lords, hats and a laurel wreath, and a prominent cap of liberty which will reappear at the end of the exhibition in the engraving of John Wilkes. The text which Hogarth included in the print celebrates his own role in pushing for the 1735 Copyright Act (also now known as ‘Hogarth’s Act’) and connects him with direct and practical political action, although no further reference to this is made in the exhibition. A pamphlet pointing to further reading and broader research possibilities arising from the display might have been valuable, but given the limited space, the labels summarize the subjects very succinctly for the casual visitor. Overcrowding the walls with information has generally been resisted, though a few relevant quotes from Ronald Paulson (Hogarth, Art and Politics, 1750-1764, The Lutterworth Press, Cambridge, 1993) might have been interesting additions. The assumption is that Hogarth is so well known and so deeply rooted in our cultural history that only broad categories are necessary.

Although the Election series is the central interest of the exhibition, equal wall space is given to the other themes, those of the Parish and the City. The progress from parish to state gathers momentum along the walls, the foibles and corruption at every level highlighted in the prints, so that incompetence and misconduct seem almost inevitable as they are played out by officials and representatives throughout society. Hogarth delighted in showing the temptations assailing those in authority, but also the thwarted efforts to enforce the law in a complex and disorderly urban landscape. In The Sleeping Congregation (1736), the Parish Clerk cannot resist the sight of the provocatively languishing young woman asleep nearby. The label tells us with understated wit that ‘This satirises the fact that in a small community the church were guardians of morality and its members seem neither vigilant nor pure.’ Another label outlines the structure, offices and organisation of the parish. The humour and tension in the print are left for us to appreciate for ourselves. The Beadle’s duties are spelled out in the print which follows, and the Industry and Idleness (1747) series of twelve prints is introduced. Tom Idle is about to be beaten by the beadle for gambling in the churchyard instead of attending church (Plate 3). Enlarged sections of the prints which show the figures of authority under scrutiny accompany each section of the exhibition, although there are no details of provenance for the prints, presupposing their familiarity as reproductions and highlighting the fact that this is a thematic exhibition rather than one spotlighting individual artistic artefacts. These details might also have been usefully included in a pamphlet.

We move from the parish to the city, and into the well-known Marriage à-la-mode (1743) and A Rake’s Progress (1735) series. The focus of the first is on Plate 5, in which the watchman and constable enter the room in the bagnio, where the Earl has been wounded by his wife’s lover. ‘Silvertongue’ escapes through the open window. The second shows Plate 4, The Arrest for Debt, in which a bailiff approaches Tom. The leek in his hat indicates he is Welsh, although the significance of this is not mentioned on the label. Every detail in a Hogarth print is there for a reason, so we are left wondering about Welsh bailiffs and Hogarth’s observations about their particular role in the system, in a cause célèbre or in his personal life. In fact, Ronald Paulson suggests that the scene takes place on St. David’s day, as indicated by the celebration of Queen Caroline’s birthday at St James’s in the background. There are thematic links to the blind harpist in A Harlot’s Progress (1732), with all his associations for Hogarth who identified with the biblical harpist David and his bravery in confronting the Goliath aggressor. The echoes suggest the Harlot‘s harpist could be read as the Rake’s creditor. Hogarth contrasts the sturdy Welsh bailiff with the effete Englishman who is trying to honour a foreign princess on a native saint’s day (see Paulson, Hogarth, High and Low Art, 1732-1750, The Lutterworth Press, Cambridge, 1992, p.27). Again, these readings might have been included in a pamphlet. The display however abides by its agenda and offers instead facts about the duties of bailiffs and organisation of debtors’ prisons.

John Gonson, the magistrate pictured in Plate 3 of A Harlot’s Progress is described on a label, along with the role of Justices of the Peace and new rules for electing them from 1741, when aldermen were automatically appointed as magistrates. The sheriffs’ duties are then demonstrated with reference to Industry and Idleness, where the prentice is shown serving in this role in Plate 8. Several plates from this series feature in the exhibition, usefully tracing trajectories of success and failure, reward and punishment in the harsh working environment of eighteenth-century London. The juxtapositions of prints in this exhibition allow us to discern particular patterns in the design of Hogarth’s familiar images. The figures of authority are shown entering from doors at the side and back in most scenes or observing events from downstage. The downstage right position as it would be in the original drawings was the standard position for figures of authority and status in the theatre. Their presence prefigures a change in the fortunes of the main characters, anticipating just punishment or exposure of wrongdoing, and as civic officials they implement judgement whether just, deserved or arbitrary.

Reproductions of Hogarth’s prints often cut or render unreadable the script and quotes beneath the images. The exhibition enables a reading, and the carefully chosen biblical quotes on the Industry and Idleness series highlight the religious underpinning of the legal system, such as Leviticus 19, v.15, ‘Thou shall do no unrighteousness in judgement’, which accompanies Plate 10. Under Plate 12, Proverbs III, v.16 is quoted: ‘Length of days is in her right hand and in her left hand Riches and Honour’. The prentices have made their choices. Christian imperatives accompany the prints’ theatrical manifestations of justice; written law is enshrined in text and shown in the process of enactment and in the often recognisable portraits of the individual officials enforcing them. Hogarth invites his viewers to decide whether these individuals are fulfilling the solemn duties with which they are trusted.

The Hudibras series seldom appears in Hogarth exhibitions and is used here in the context of his representations of the legal profession and public disorder. His prints illustrated the 1727 new edition of Samuel Butler’s 1663-78 poem, although the inclusion of them tends to confuse the clear theme of the exhibition. The poem satirised the Puritan Parliamentary side of the English Civil War, and though there are many obvious comparisons to be made with Hogarth’s contemporary political satires no doubt enjoyed at the time, the subtleties cannot be grasped through brief wall labels. Plate 12, Hudibras and the Lawyer, is labelled ‘…a marvellous representation of a little office within the justice system’. The pompous lawyer and his clerks, Rococo decoration and female figure of justice silhouetted against the massive legal tomes on the shelves do relate to other Hogarthian portraits of judges, such as the inattentive group supposedly administering justice in The Bench (1758) which is also displayed. There are many links between the prints, such as individuals appearing in different contexts, so that many of the personalities who interested Hogarth can be identified by the attentive visitor.

The Election series of 1754-55 is the main focus in the display, the culmination of Hogarth’s satirical interest in the many contentious spheres of power which we have already considered. The election which prompted the series was a current and controversial issue when Hogarth began painting and printing his images. The Oxfordshire seats, safely Tory since 1710, were challenged by the Whigs in 1752 and a two-year campaign ensued. The unprecedented bribery and corruption involved was captured by Hogarth in all its energy, diversity and notoriety. The exhibition provides carefully composed labels to summarise the issues of Rotten Boroughs, ‘pocket boroughs’, and to answer the question ‘Who could vote in 1754?’ 17% of men or only 4% of the population could, the conditions and disparities clearly listed. In London 7000 men could vote, in Camelford only 20. The information provided to explain details of the prints is well chosen and timely, given the debates about electoral reform still highly significant in British politics. What tends to be overlooked is the lively involvement of the unenfranchised in the eighteenth century, who mocked, intimidated or challenged the candidates in their own informal performances, paraded their party ‘colours’ and enjoyed the confrontation within the context of local issues and concerns. This incidentally throws light on the role of ribbons, local rivalries and loyalties later in the century in the early days of the Gordon Riots, when the ‘particular’ escalated quickly into the more serious political emergency. The mob could quickly exercise power, and Hogarth was alert to this possibility.

Hogarth’s dedications on each of the prints highlight his aspirations and the importance he attached to this series. Plate 1 is dedicated to the Right Hon. Henry Fox; Plate 2 to His Excellency Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, Ambassador to the Court of Russia; Plate 3 to the Hon. Sir Edward Walpole, Knight of the Bath, and Plate 4 to the Hon. George Hay, one of the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty. The Gentleman’s Magazine bemoaned ‘the very many disgusting, if not depraved exhibitions of human nature’ in the images, but the exhibition is not diverted from its main concern, that of the development of democratic representation. The final section therefore takes us beyond the chaos of Oxfordshire. We are relieved to read: ‘The reforms of the nineteenth century removed much of the overt corruption in elections that Hogarth has shown us’. It was a tortuous process: a unique secret ballot box of 1872 from Wakefield Museum on show reminds us of the hard won rights which it is easy to downplay.

The final print in the exhibition is of John Wilkes (1725-97), the radical MP who was embroiled in scandal in the 1760s and attacked both Hogarth and George III in his publication The North Briton (1762-1771). Though he was expelled from Parliament, he was returned unopposed in two by-elections which, we are informed, were declared void. Hogarth lurked in Westminster Hall to make secret sketches of him, adding a diabolic leer and suggestion of horns to the wig, and the resulting print sold 4,000 copies in its first printing. Inspiring laughter was Hogarth’s effective weapon of choice. Wilkes complicates the political narrative of the exhibition which at this stage has traced a line through the chaotic application of justice and development of democracy towards the regulated system we now expect and recognise. Are we to surmise that we must be vigilant to protect the delicate political freedoms we have gained, or that maverick politicians may still undermine or subvert them? Hogarth was always aware of the possibility of chaos, and his passion for freedom and justice were the qualities we would most admire in a charismatic politician today. It is almost possible to imagine someone like him in such a role and gaining great support.

This exhibition is a valuable, focussed and informative contribution to our appreciation of Hogarth’s achievements, and of our democratic system. I wonder whether it played a part in encouraging any doubters to vote in the recent general election.

Parish, City, State: Hogarth and Government was at Hogarth’s House, Chiswick from March 27th to June 21st, 2015.