Yet if we could abstract our minds from the fascinating colors of the picture, and forget the coarse execution (in some respects) of the print, intended as it was to be a cheap plate, accessible to the poorer sort of people, for whose instruction it was done, I think we could have no hesitation in conferring the palm of superior genius upon Hogarth, comparing this work of his with Poussin's picture.

There is more of imagination in it--that power which draws all things to one,--which makes things animate and inanimate, beings with their attributes, subjects, and their accessories, take one color and serve to one effect.

Everything in the print, to use a vulgar expression, _tells_.

Every part is full of "strange images of death." It is perfectly amazing and astounding to look at.

Not only the two prominent figures, the woman and the half-dead man, which are as terrible as anything which Michael Angelo ever drew, but everything else in the print, contributes to bewilder and stupefy,--the very houses, as I heard a friend of mine express it, tumbling all about in various directions, seem drunk--seem absolutely reeling from the effect of that diabolical spirit of frenzy which goes forth over the whole composition.