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Painting
Marriage A-la-Mode: 4, The Toilette
The Six Rooms of a Bad Marriage · Room 4 of 6

Marriage A-la-Mode: 4, The Toilette

c. 1743 · Oil on canvas · National Gallery, London

Marriage A-la-Mode: 4, The Toilette
Year
c. 1743
Medium
Oil on canvas
Dimensions
69.9 x 90.8 cm
Location
National Gallery, London
Movement
Rococo
Series
The Six Rooms of a Bad Marriage
Listen to this article0:00 / 5:59 · Read by ByMuseum
In this article

Where we left off

Rooms 2 and 3 followed the husband. Room 4 returns to the woman we met at the wedding. The bride from Room 1 is now a Countess. Silvertongue is still close.

A new title

Look at the top of the bed in the alcove. A coronet sits on the canopy, and another tops the frame of the dressing-table mirror. They are an Earl's coronets. The National Gallery points out what that means: the old Earl of Squander, the man with the family tree in Room 1, has died. His son is now the Earl, and the merchant's daughter has the title her father paid for.

A curtained bed with a gilded coronet on top of the canopy
The coronet above the bed: the old Earl is dead, and the bride is a Countess.
A silver coronet on top of the dressing-table mirror
Even the mirror wears a coronet.
Hand-painted oil on canvas
Own William Hogarth’s Marriage A-la-Mode: 4, The Toilette as a genuine painting
Painted by hand using oil on canvas. The brushwork and texture are real, not simulated by ink.
Get this reproduction

A mother

Hanging from the back of the Countess's chair is a small detail that is easy to miss: a piece of coral on a red ribbon, with a little silver whistle. It is a baby's teether. The Countess has become a mother.

A coral baby's teether on a red ribbon hanging from a chair
A baby's coral teether on the back of her chair. Remember it.

We do not see the baby. Hogarth only shows us the teether, hanging there among the silks. Keep it in mind.

The bedroom as a stage

Rich Londoners had picked up a French fashion: receiving visitors in the bedroom while they finished dressing. The Countess's bedroom is full. A hairdresser works on her curls and tests the heat of his tongs on a scrap of paper. A fat opera singer throws back his head, and a flute player accompanies him. A servant brings round cups of chocolate.

The hairdresser testing his curling tongs on a scrap of paper
The hairdresser tests his hot tongs on paper before touching her hair.
An opera singer singing with his head back and a flute player behind him
The singer and his flautist. The music is part of the show.
A servant in green offering cups of chocolate
Chocolate is served.

The guests are a gallery of their own. A young man still in his curl papers sips chocolate. A lady leans back so far in ecstasy at the music that she is almost horizontal. Nobody is here to see the Countess. They are here to be seen in the Countess's bedroom.

A young man with curl papers in his hair sipping chocolate
A guest still in his curl papers.
The guests listening to the music, one woman swooning
The audience.

Silvertongue is still close

Now look past the crowd. The Countess is not watching the singer or looking in her mirror. She has turned her chair towards one man, lounging on a sofa beside her, and he is Silvertongue, the lawyer who whispered in her ear at the wedding. The National Gallery now calls him her lover.

The Countess turned towards Silvertongue lounging on a sofa beside her
The Countess has eyes only for Silvertongue.

He is already part of the furniture. High on the wall, beside her bed, hangs a large portrait of him.

A framed portrait of Silvertongue in a black lawyer's gown
Silvertongue's portrait hangs by her bed.

The ticket

Slow down here. This is the most important object in the room, and it is the size of a playing card. In Silvertongue's hand is a small printed ticket. The National Gallery identifies it as a ticket to a masquerade, a masked ball, where nobody needs to know who anybody is. You can just read the word Door printed on it.

Silvertongue's hand holding a small printed ticket
The ticket. Small in his hand, enormous for the story.

With his other hand he points to a painted screen behind them. It shows a masquerade in full swing, with costumed figures dressed as a friar and a nun. He is not just inviting her. He is showing her what it will be like.

Silvertongue's hand pointing at a painted screen showing masked figures
He points at the masquerade painted on the screen.

What money buys

The floor is covered in shopping. The Countess has been to an auction, and her new purchases are spread out on the floor, still wearing their lot numbers: china, little figures and curiosities. High on the wall hang pictures after Correggio, the National Gallery says, of Jupiter's seduction of Io and of Lot and his daughters. The pictures in this room are about desire.

Auction purchases with lot tickets spread on the floor
The auction haul, still wearing its lot numbers.
Large paintings of love scenes hanging high on the bedroom wall
On the wall, love stories from Correggio.

The joke with horns

In the bottom right corner, a little page boy is unpacking the auction lots. He holds up a statue of Actaeon, the hunter from Greek myth who saw the goddess Diana bathing and was turned into a stag. The boy is laughing and pointing at the statue's antlers.

A page boy laughing and pointing at the antlers of a small statue
The page points at Actaeon's antlers and laughs.

Every Londoner in 1743 got the joke. Horns were the sign of the cuckold, the man whose wife is unfaithful. The National Gallery reads the antlers this way. The husband is not in the room. Hogarth brings him in anyway, as a punchline.

Status or secrecy?

This room is loud. There is music, gossip, chocolate, shopping and a hairdresser with hot tongs. But the action that moves the story forward is completely quiet: a man hands a woman a small ticket and points at a screen.

So is this room about status, or secrecy? Hogarth's answer may be that the first is the perfect cover for the second.

In Room 4, Silvertongue offers the Countess a ticket. Remember it. Room 5 begins after the masquerade.

The original hangs in the National Gallery in London with the other five rooms. Our hand-painted reproduction of The Toilette is painted in oil on canvas from the National Gallery original, and the six scenes can be ordered singly or as a set to hang in order.

This is Room 4 of The Six Rooms of a Bad Marriage.

The key to Room 5
Claim the key
What is Silvertongue handing the Countess?
The candle from The BagnioContinue the story · Room 5 of 6The Bagnio: The Secret RoomThe masquerade is over. A candle gutters in a rented room, and something has gone terribly wrong.Open Room 5 →

← All six doors

Enjoyed this story?

Sources and further reading

What is visible in the painting, what the National Gallery says, and what ByMuseum reads into it are kept apart. Hogarth left no written key to the series.

ByMuseum Editorial
Art history desk · ByMuseum

Written and fact-checked by the ByMuseum editorial team: art historians and painters who research each work from museum records and catalogues raisonnés, then explain how it is recreated by hand in oil on canvas.

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