Part 1
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In the Index you will find [J] replaces picture of small anchor.
The Popular Library of Art
Edited by Edward Garnett
The Popular Library of Art
ALBRECHT DÜRER (37 Illustrations). By Lina Eckenstein
ROSSETTI (53 Illustrations). By Ford Madox Hueffer.
REMBRANDT (61 Illustrations). By Auguste Bréal.
FRED. WALKER (32 Illustrations and Photogravure). By Clementina Black.
MILLET (32 Illustrations). By Romain Rolland.
THE FRENCH IMPRESSIONISTS (50 Illustrations). By Camille Mauclair.
LEONARDO DA VINCI (44 Illustrations). By Dr Georg Gronau.
GAINSBOROUGH (55 Illustrations). By Arthur B. Chamberlain.
BOTTICELLI (37 Illustrations). By Julia Cartwright (Mrs Ady).
RAPHAEL (50 Illustrations). By Julia Cartwright (Mrs Ady).
VELAZQUEZ (51 Illustrations). By Auguste Bréal.
HOLBEIN (50 Illustrations). By Ford Madox Hueffer.
ENGLISH WATER COLOUR PAINTERS (42 Illustrations). By A. J. Finberg.
WATTEAU (35 Illustrations). By Camille Mauclair.
THE PRE-RAPHAELITE BROTHERHOOD (38 Illustrations). By Ford Madox Hueffer.
PERUGINO (50 Illustrations). By Edward Hutton.
CRUIKSHANK. By W. H. Chesson.
HOGARTH. By Edward Garnett.
GEORGE CRUIKSHANK
BY
W. H. CHESSON
AUTHOR OF "NAME THIS CHILD," ETC.
LONDON: DUCKWORTH & CO. NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON & CO.
PRINTED BY
TURNBULL AND SPEARS.
EDINBURGH
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS IN ORDER OF DATE
DATE SUBJECT PAGE
_Circa_} 1800} Almsgiving 13
1815. The Scale of Justice Reversed 5
1818. Title-page of "The Wits' Magazine" 209
1819. Johnny Bull and His Forged Notes 29
1821. Comic Composites for the Scrap Book 141
1821. Tom Getting the Best of a Charley (from "Life in London ") 49
1821. New Readings (from "The Humorist") 205
1823. Exchange No Robbery (from "Points of Humour") 167
1823. Peter Schlemihl watching the Clock (from "Peter Schlemihl") 127
1826. Juvenile Monstrosities 33
1826. The Goose Girl (from "German Popular Stories") 145
1826. Hope (from "Phrenological Illustrations") 173
1827. Title-page of "Illustrations of Time" 225
1828. A Braying Ass (from "The Diverting History of John Gilpin") 213
1828. Fatal Effects of Tight Lacing (from "Scraps and Sketches") 37
1828. A Gentleman's Rest Broken (from "Scraps and Sketches") 163
1828. Punch Throwing Away the Body Of The Servant (from "Punch and Judy") 131
1830. The Vicar of Wakefield Preaching to the Prisoners (from "Illustrations to Popular Works") 193
1831. Crusoe's Farmhouse and Crusoe In his Island Home (from "The Life and Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe") 241
1831. Adams's Visit to Parson Trulliber (from "Joseph Andrews" [1]) 189
1833. Don Quixote and Sancho Returning Home (from "The History and Adventures of the Renowned Don Quixote") 201
[Footnote 1: Date of vol., 1832.]
1833. Solomon Eagle (from "A Journal of the Plague Year") 97
1836. September--Michaelmas Day (from "The Comic Almanack," 1836) 41
1836. X--Xantippe (from "A Comic Alphabet") 181
1836. "Eh, Sirs!" (from "Landscape-Historical Illustrations of Scotland and the Waverley Novels," "Waverley") 169
1836. "Pro-di-gi-ous!" (from "Landscape-Historical Illustrations of Scotland and the Waverley Novels," "Guy Mannering") 197
1836. Turpin's Flight Through Edmonton (from "Rookwood") 75
1837. The Streets, Morning (from "Sketches by Boz") 101
1837. The Last Cab-driver (from "Sketches by Boz") 105
1838. Norna Despatching the Provisions (from "Landscape-Historical Illustrations of Scotland and the Waverley Novels," "The Pirate") 237
1839. The Turk's only Daughter approaches Lord Bateman (from "The Loving Ballad of Lord Bateman") 229
1839. Jonathan Wild seizing Jack Sheppard at his Mother's Grave (from "Jack Sheppard") 79
1839. Jack Sheppard drinking from St Giles's Bowl (from "Jack Sheppard") 80
1840. The Death Warrant (from "The Tower of London") 83
1841. The Veterans (from "Songs, Naval and National, of Charles Dibden") 245
1842. Frightening Society (from "George Cruikshank's Omnibus") _Frontispiece_
1842. The Duel in Tothill Fields (from "Ainsworth's Magazine," "The Miser's Daughter") 87
1842. Over-head and Under-foot (from "The Comic Almanack") 53
1842. Legend of St Medard (from "The Ingoldsby Legends") 117
1843. Herne the Hunter appearing to Henry VIII. (from "Ainsworth's Magazine," "Windsor Castle") 137
1844. The Marquis de Guiscard attempting to assassinate Harley (from "Ainsworth's Magazine," "Saint James's") 91
1845. _The_ Lion of the Party (from "George Cruikshank's Table-Book") 185
1845. Details from Heads of the Table (from "George Cruikshank's Table-Book") 177
1847. Amaranth carried by the Bee's Monster Steed (from "The Good Genius that Turned Everything into Gold") 149
1847. "The Cat Did It!" (from "The Greatest Plague in Life") 221
1848. Shoeing the Devil (from "The True Legend of St Dunstan") 122
1848. The Devil about to Sign (from "The True Legend of St Dunstan ") 123
1849. Miss Eske carried away during her Trance (from "Clement Lorimer") 109
1853. The Glass of Whiskey after the Goose (from "The Glass and the New Crystal Palace") 62
1853. The Goose after the Whiskey (from "The Glass and the New Crystal Palace") 63
1854. When the Elephant stands upon his Head (from "George Cruikshank's Magazine") 217
1854. The Pumpkin, etc., being changed into a Coach, etc., (from "George Cruikshank's Fairy Library," "Cinderella") 153
1864. The Ogre in the form of a Lion (from "George Cruikshank's Fairy Library," "Puss in Boots") 157
1875. Monk Reading (from "Peeps at Life") 249
N.D. Eliza Cruikshank (from a painting) 113
**** The dates in the footlines and in this list are those of the first appearance of the works to which they refer. In certain cases the reproductions have been made from good impressions which are not the earliest of the plates in question.
I
The life of George Cruikshank extended from September 27, 1792, to February 1, 1878, and the known work of his hand dates from 1799 to 1875. In 1840 Thackeray wrote of him as of a hero of his boyhood, asking jocundly, "Did we not forego tarts in order to buy his _Breaking-up_ or his _Fashionable Monstrosities_ of the year eighteen hundred and something?" In 1863, the year of Thackeray's death, Cruikshank was asked, by the committee who exhibited his _Worship of Bacchus_, to associate with that work some of his early drawings in order to prove that he was not his own grandfather.
For years before he reached the great but unsensational age at which he died, a sort of cult was vested in his longevity. Dated plates--that entitled "The Rose and the Lily" (1875) offers the last example--imply that his art figured to him finally as a kind of athleticism.
It was as if, in using his burin or needles, he was doing a "turn" before sightseers, with a hired Time innocuously scything on the platform beside him to show him off.
Now that his mortality has been proven for a quarter of a century, we can coldly ask: why did he seem so old to himself and the world? Others greater than he--Titian, Watts--have laboured with genius under a heavier crown of snow than he; and the public has applauded their vigour without a doubt of their identity. The reason is that they have not been the journalists of their age. They have not, like Cruikshank, reflected in their works inventions and fashions, wars and scandals, jokes and politics, whence the world has emerged unrecognisably the same.
It is said that when Cruikshank was eighty-three, he executed a sword-dance before an old officer who had mentally buried him. It was an action characteristic of a nature that was scarcely more naïve and impulsive at one time than another, but it was the most confusing proof of the fact in debate which he could have offered. It was not of a numeral that the doubter thought when the existence of Cruikshank was presented to his mind's eye. His thought we may elaborate as follows.
The artist who drew Napoleon week by week, with all the vulgar insolence which only a great man's contemporaries can display towards him, was the same who, half a century after the Emperor's death, produced a conception of the "Leader of the Parisian Blood Red Republic of 1870." The artist who, in the last year of the reign of George the Third, depicted Thistlewood's lair in Cato Street, drew also, as though with "a mother's tender care," almost every pane in that glass palace which the trees of Hyde Park inhabited in 1851.
Before the punctuality of his interest in everything new that rose to the surface to obliterate an expiring mode or event, we stand astonished. It is not so much as an artist that we here admire him. It is as an Argus of the street, an Argus not only with many eyes but with feet enough to plant him at once in a hundred corners. From this voluble Argus his mistress Clio recoils but cannot dismiss him. Aghast she observes him presenting the Prince Regent in a hundred burlesquely improper parts; and it is a discreet generation indeed which remembers _Coriolanus addressing the Plebeians_ and forgets _The Fat in the Fire_. Clio withdraws, but does not forbid us to stay. And stay I do, at all events, to examine the packed and ugly caricatures which are the visible laughter of Cruikshank the Argus of journalism. Their violent colours and vigorous lines fail not in invocation. Before the student of them rise the supple, blue-eyed leech called Mrs Clarke and her grossly-doating Commander-in-chief; Lady Jersey, Lady Douglas and the other villains of the drama entitled "Queen Caroline;" the Marchioness of Hertford, the Countess of Yarmouth, or whoever brought down upon _Coriolanus_ the "heigho!" of a ribald Rowly; and, lest one grow lenient to royal self-indulgence, it is accused by the recurring presence of a figure of tormented respectability. It is the Cruikshankian John Bull, as different from Sir F. C. Gould's well-fed monitor of Conservative politicians as is Cruikshank's darkly criminal Punch from Richard Doyle's domesticated patron of humour. This John Bull is hacked to make a Corsican and Yankee holiday, taxed at the bayonet's point, starved on bread at eighteenpence the quartern, and offered up as a sacrifice to a Bourbon "Bumble-head."
But the visions that detain the student of Cruikshank the journalist are not only of personages and events. He saw and recorded the crowd and the clothes of the crowd. His art preserves the ladies of 1816, who resembled the bowls of tobacco pipes; the men of 1822, who wore trousers like pears; and the children of 1826, whom the hatter turned into "Mushroom Monstrosities."
Cruikshank the journalist constitutes a fame in himself whose trumpeters are Fairburn, Fores, Humphrey, Hone ..., publishers who, in an age before photo-engraving, easily sold topical caricatures separately at a shilling or more. Gillray's name, in my estimation, outweighs Cruikshank's at the foot of such publications, while Rowlandson's weighs less. Together these three masters of caricature compose a constellation of third and fourth Georgian humour.
But we have by no means done with Cruikshank when we have admired him there. A greater Cruikshank remains to be admired. Of him there is no assignable master; neither Hogarth nor Gillray. He is the illustrator whose fame makes more than six hundred books and pamphlets desirable; he is truly an artist, a maker of beauty. Stimulated though this greater Cruikshank was in the flatter and more decent epoch which succeeded the age of _Coriolanus_ or _King Teapot_, of _Don Whiskerandos_ or _Sardanapalus_, Regent and King of Britain and mandarin of Brighton, it was in the age of muddle and debauch, not in the age of Victorian propriety and reform, that Cruikshank entered fairyland for the first time and saw the little people face to face. Cobbett has ignored the fact, but there is grace in it even for the "Big Sovereign" whom he pilloried in five hundred and eleven paragraphs.
We shall find, alas! as we proceed, that, as illustrator, Cruikshank often sank below his journalistic level. The journalist may always take refuge in the actual life of the fact before him; his are real landscapes, real faces. But the illustrator has often only lifeless words to instruct him; when short of inspiration he is in the thraldom of his manner. Cruikshank's thraldom to his manner was the more obvious, since the manner was often wooden, often joyously ugly. His fame perpetuates his failures. The insipidity which affronted Boz has no effect in stopping the demand for "the fireside plate." Still, his best as well as his worst is in his illustration of books. It is his best that excuses the criticism of his worst and enrols him among the great artists of the nineteenth century.
I propose in the pages that shall follow to set down the significance both of his best and of his worst, avoiding, as befits the date of my labour, any biographical matter which does not throw light on his art. And first let us follow his path in journalism.
II
The limits of Cruikshank's genius and the spacious area between them are almost implied in the fact that he was a Londoner who seldom or never departed from the "tight little island." Born in Duke Street, St George's, Bloomsbury, if the statement in his epitaph in St Paul's Cathedral is to be accepted, he continued a Londoner to the end: living in Dorset Street, near Fleet Street, in Amwell Street, and Myddelton Terrace, Pentonville, and finally in the house called successively 48 Mornington Place and 263 Hampstead Road. Yet this cockney depicted the Spain of Don Quixote and Gil Bias, the Ireland of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, and the America of Uncle Tom. Such courageous versatility was the outcome of a training so practical that I hesitate to call it an artistic education.
His father, Isaac, was a Lowland Scot who lived and, unfortunately, drank by his art, which in 1789, 1790 and 1792 was represented at the Royal Academy. His period was from 1756 or 1757 to 1810 or 1811. Like his friend James Gillray, he caricatured on the side of Pitt. I remember no better caricature of his than _Pastimes of Primrose Hill_ ("Attic Miscellany," 1st Sept. 1791), depicting a perspiring tallow chandler trundling his children up that eminence. He was energetic in the delineation of the insipid jollity considered appropriate to sailors, and he celebrated the O.P. riots at Covent Garden by drawing Angelica Catalani as a cat. Thomas Wright places him only after Gillray and Rowlandson as a caricaturist, but it is probable that the man's best is of an academic sort, such as the pretty drawings which he contributed to a 1794 edition of Thomson's "Seasons." Isaac Cruikshank's workroom was that of a busy hack, and George had not been long in the world before he played ghost there on his father's copperplates. One of his early tasks was the background of _Daniel in the Lions' Den_.
None who looks at the drawing of a supercilious benefactor, which is one of George's earliest efforts, can doubt that in him the caricaturing instinct was basic. The eye is indulgent to several crudities, because the flinging is drawn though the hand of contempt is not, while the gluttonous enthusiasm of the beggar is a triumph of juvenile observation. Here are characters if not figures; here from a little boy is work that deserves a laugh. Hence it is not surprising that George Cruikshank has been erroneously credited with a share in _Facing the Enemy_, a dateless etching, delightfully droll in animal expression, etched by his father, after a sketch by H. Woodward, and published in 1797-8, according to Mr A. M. Broadley, and not in 1803 as formerly conjectured.
1803 is the year of Cruikshank's Opus I., according to G. W. Reid, his most voluminous bibliographer. This work, printed and sold by W. Belch of Newington Butts, consists of four marine pieces on a sheet, most comfortably unprecocious and as wooden as a Dutch doll. A humorist inspecting it might profess to see in a woman, whose nose and forehead produce one and the same straight line, a prophecy of the Cruikshankian nose which is so monotonously recurrent an ornament in the works of "the great George." Cruikshank himself averred that one of the first etchings he was ever employed to do and paid for was a sheet of Lottery Prints (published in 1804) of which he made a copy in his eighty-first year. The etching contains sixteen drawings of shops. The barber's shop door is open to disclose an equestrian galloping past it, although, even as a man, he drew horses which G. A. Sala declared were wrong in all the traditional forty-four points. George Cruikshank himself, whom, as Mr G. S. Layard has shown, he repeatedly drew, appears in a compartment of this etching, in the act of conveying the plate of it to the shop of Belch, a name for which Langham is substituted in a re-issue of this gamblers' temptation, and which dwindles into Langley & Belch in the copy made by Cruikshank in 1873, published by G. Bell, York St., Covent Garden.
1806 is the date of the first book, or rather pamphlet, with which George Cruikshank is connected. It is entitled "The Impostor Unmasked," and pillories Sheridan for a farcical swindler and something worse. There is a folding plate to fortify the charges of Patricius the scandal-monger, and this is ascribed to George by Reid, though Captain Douglas, George's latest bibliographer, only allows that "there seems to be some of George's work in it." Reid's authority, which had in all probability the living George's behind it, excuses a brief description of this plate. Sheridan is depicted in the act of addressing a crowd of Stafford electors, amongst whom are several creditors who pun bitterly on the parliamentary word Bill and damn the respects which he pays them. A house on the right of the hustings might have been sketched on a slate by any child weary of pothooks, but there is a touch of true humour in the quiet joy shown on the face of a supporter of Sheridan in the heckling to which he is subjected. Gillray had already published (March 10, 1805) his _Uncorking Old Sherry_, and so this Cruikshankian caricature may be accepted as George's first step in the Gillrayan path.
The path of Gillray, in and out of which runs the path of Thomas Rowlandson, is seldom or never dull; sometimes unclean in a manner malodorous as manure, but with risings which offer illuminating views. His humour is tyrannically laughable. The guffaw is, as it were, kicked out of the spectator of _The Apotheosis of Hoche_ (1798) by the descending boots, depicted as reluctantly yielding to the law of gravity, which the triumphant devastator of La Vendée has overcome. Gillray's sense of design was superb, and he would be an enthusiast who should assert that George Cruikshank in political caricature produced works at once so striking and architecturally admirable as _The Giant Factotum_ [Pitt] _Amusing Himself_ (1797). Gillray possessed what Cruikshank lacked altogether, the inclination and power to draw voluptuousness with some justice to its charm. One has only to cite in confirmation of this statement _The Morning after Marriage_ (August 5, 1788), and compare it with any of those caricatures in which Cruikshank exhibits the erotic preferences of George the Third's children. What, however, Cruikshank, in the artistic meaning of vision, saw in Gillray, he adapted with the force of a boisterous participant in the patriotism and demagogy of his day. Gillray had Napoleon for his prey, and no political criticism is pithier than the caricature which represents the Emperor as _Tiddy-Doll, the great French Gingerbread-Baker, drawing out a new Batch of Kings_ (1806). On the other hand, nothing that Swift is believed to have omitted in his description of Brobdingnag could be coarser than _The Corsican Pest_ (1803). It is almost literally humour of the latrine. Unhappily Cruikshank exulted like a young barbarian in the licence conferred by precedent, and it is hard to view with tolerance his pictorial records of "the first swell of the age." One of the wittiest is _Boney Hatching a Bulletin, or Snug Winter Quarters_ (Dec. 1812); the Grand Army is there seen in the form of heads and bayonets protruding from a stratum of Russian snow; the courier who is to convey the bulletin has boards under his boots to prevent his submersion. Elsewhere one's admiration for inventive vigour struggles against disgust at a mode which one only hesitates to call blackguardism because the liveliest contents of the paint-box were lavished upon it. Take, for instance, the caricature which bears the rhymed title, _Boney tir'd of war's alarms, flies for safety to his darling's arms_ (1813). The devil bears Bonaparte on his shoulders to the Empress Marie Louise, after the Russian campaign. "Take him to Bed, my Lady, and Thaw him," says the devil. "I am almost petrified in helping him to escape from his Army. I shall expect him to say his prayers to me every night!" Another Cruikshankian caricature, _The Imperial Family going to the Devil_ (March 1814), represents the rejection of Napoleon by that connoisseur of reprobates, though Rowlandson in the same month and year depicted the fallen emperor as _The Devil's Darling_. Cruikshank's vulgar facetiousness, interesting by sheer vigour and self-enjoyment, pursues Napoleon even to St Helena in the heartless caricature which portrays him as an ennuyé reduced for amusement to rat-catching. It was not for nothing that Thomas Moore, alluding to the Prince Regent as Big Ben, made Tom Cribb say:--
"Having conquer'd the prime one, that mill'd us all round, You kick'd him, old Ben, as he gasp'd on the ground."