But the true frantic OEstus resides at present with Mr. Hogarth; I went t’other morning to see a portrait he is painting of Mr. Fox.  Hogarth told me he had promised, if Mr. Fox would sit as he liked, to make as good a picture as Vandyke or Rubens could.  I was silent—­“Why now,” said he, “you think this very vain, but why should not one speak the truth?” This truth was uttered in the face of his own Sigismonda, which is exactly a maudlin w——­, tearing off the trinkets that her keeper had given her, to fling at his head.  She has her father’s picture in a bracelet on her arm, and her fingers are bloody with the heart, as if she had just bought a sheep’s pluck in St. James’s Market.  As I was going, Hogarth put on a very grave face, and said, “Mr. Walpole, I want to speak to you.”  I sat down, and said I was ready to receive his commands.  For shortness, I will mark this wonderful dialogue by initial letters.

H. I am told you are going to entertain the town with something in our way.  W. Not very soon, Mr. Hogarth.  H. I wish you would let me have it to correct; I should be very sorry to have you expose yourself to censure; we painters must know more of those things than other people.  W. Do you think nobody understands painting but painters?  H. Oh! so far from it, there’s Reynolds, who certainly has genius; why but t’other day he offered a hundred pounds for a picture, that I would not hang in my cellar; and indeed, to say truth I have generally found, that persons who had studied painting least were the best judges of it; but what I particularly wished to say to you was about Sir James Thornhill (you know he married Sir James’ daughter):  I would not have you say any thing against him; there was a book published some time ago, abusing him, and it gave great offence.  He was the first that attempted history in England, and, I assure you, some Germans have said that he was a very great painter.  W. My work will go no lower than the year one thousand seven hundred, and I really have not considered whether Sir J. Thornhill will come within my plan or not; if he does, I fear you and I shall not agree upon his merits.  H. I wish you would let me correct it; besides; I am writing something of the same kind myself; I should be sorry we should clash.  W. I believe it is not much known what my work is, very few persons have seen it.  H. Why, it is a critical history of painting , is it not?  W. No, it is an antiquarian history of it in England; I bought Mr. Vertue’s MSS. and, I believe, the work will not give much offence; besides, if it does, I cannot help it:  when I publish any thing, I give it to the world to think of it as they please.  H. Oh! if it is an antiquarian work, we shall not clash; mine is a critical work; I don’t know whether I shall ever publish it.  It is rather an apology for painters.  I think it is owing to the good sense of the English that they have not painted better.  W. My dear Mr. Hogarth, I must take my leave of you,