William Hogarth, A Harlot's Progress 6

As death finally takes Moll, perhaps as a blessed relief,  what has she left behind? How do those very same people who used her for their pleasure and profit look at her now? 

I have long felt uneasy at wakes and funerals, not because I have no wish to honor the dead, but because I am discouraged by how so many in the crowd are hardly offering any respect. They continue in their vanities and vices, having learned nothing at all. 

Though drunk on brandy, only the maid seems to show any real grief, and she may also be angered by the way the coffin is being used as a makeshift bar. A prostitute is certainly crying, yet it turns out it is on account of her injured finger. Another checks her face in the mirror, even as no amount of cosmetics can hide her syphilitic sores. 

One woman has opened the coffin. Is she looking for something to steal, or is she reflecting over her own mortality? Or is it both? 

The parson spills from his glass as he reaches under a girl's dress, who has a look in her eyes very much like Moll's from Plate 3. A woman glares at this scene with disapproval, seemingly oblivious to her own irreverence by resting her bottle on the coffin. The undertaker flirts with a prostitute, while she in turn swipes his handkerchief. 

Moll's son plays with his top below, seemingly oblivious to the tragedy that surrounds him. What are we to imagine will become of this innocent child? 

For the viewer paying very close attention, that hat hanging on the wall is the one Moll wore on her first day in London, back in Plate 1. 

I am told the coat of arms by the hat is a bit of clever symbolism, with the three corks or spigots standing for the "spilling" of Moll's life, the flowing of the alcohol, and the Parson's "emission". 

I have long wondered about the sprigs or branches on the floor, and have only heard a suggestion that it refers back to the images of witchcraft from Plate 3. 

This series is not a stuffy or prudish condemnation. It is through a sympathy with the sadness of the scenes that we are invited to look into our own hearts. 

William Hogarth, A Harlot's Progress, Plate 6 (1732)