III

"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."

Gillray is said to have sometimes disguised his style in order to evade his agreement withHumphrey that he would work for no other publisher; and there is more than one of Cruikshank's Napoleonic caricatures which might be ascribed to Gillray's dram-providingalter egoif their authorship were in question. Of such isQuadrupeds, or Little Boney's Last Kick, published in "The Scourge" (1813). Here the Russian bear holds a birch in his right paw, and Napoleon by an ankle with his left; a naked devil points to the crown, tumbling from the head of the capsized emperor; on the ground is an ironical bulletin.Old Blucher beating the Corsican Big Drum(1814) is an even closer match of the baser sort of Gillrayan caricature; while the particular stench of it rises fromBoney's Elb(a)ow Chair, of the same date. The last caricature from Cruikshank upon Napoleon came feebly in 1842 with the issue of "George Cruikshank's Omnibus," wherein he figures as a skeleton in boots surmounting a pyramid of skulls. The caricaturist's harlequinade had lasted too long; when it ceased, the soul of it utterly perished, and one views impatiently so formal and witless a galvanisation as was suggested by the return of Napoleon, dead, to the reconquest of France.

Of Cruikshank's Napoleonic caricatures as a whole, it may be said that their function was solely to relieve by ridicule the pressure of a grandiose and formidable personality upon the nerves of his countrymen. He did not, like Gillray inThe Handwriting on the Wall, confess the historic greatness of Napoleon by an allusion so sublime that it afforded Hone a precedent for unpunished impiety. When, for serio-comic verse, he attempted to delineate a monitory apparition, in the shape of Napoleon's "Red Man," the result was absurdity veiled by dulness.

But it is time to turn to the Cruikshankian view of persons and things in Great Britain in the lifetime of "Adonis the Great." It is said that while Gillray was productive, an old General of the German Legion remarked, alluding to caricature, "Ah! I dell you vot—England is altogether von libel." With the spirit of this speech, one can cordially agree. The concupiscence of princes was serialised for the mirth of the crowd.

There were two great types of ascendant degeneracy to divert the eyes of Farmer George's subjects from their shops and Bibles.One was his son George, the other Mary Anne Clarke.

The cabinet in which George kept capillary souvenirs of so many women was fastened against contemporary critics of his career. Undivulged, therefore, was the touching sentiment of a philofeminism which, in excluding his legal wife, was construed but as vice. There was no Max Beerbohm in his day to appreciate his polish and talents and to pity his wife for playing her tragedy in tights. There was no one to pronounce him the slave of that most endearing of tyrants, the artistic temperament. The caricaturists saw simply a polygamist eager to convict of adultery the wife whom he disliked and avoided, and a spendthrift whose debt was inflicted upon the nation. So far as man can show up his fellow-men, this man was shown up, and in verse and picture became an instrument of public titillation. So roguish a severity as the caricaturists displayed can seldom be accepted as didactic Gillray, indeed, inThe Morning after Marriagefollowed him into the bridal chamber of Mrs Fitzherbert whom he married in 1785, and this caricature is the best advertisement of hisgrace and beauty which perhaps exists. When attacked by Cruikshank, he was over forty, for the first caricature of him in which that artist's hand is noticeable was published in 1808. It is entitledJohn Bull Advising with His Superiors: the superiors being George and his brother Frederick, who sit under the portraits of their respective mistresses, "Mrs Fitz" and Mrs Clarke. John Bull is clean-shaven, fat-nosed, hatted, and holds a gnarled stick. "Servant Measters," he begins, "I be come to ax a bit of thy advice"; but he proceeds to freeze them with clumsy innuendo and adds, "I does love good old Georg [sic], by Goles! because he is not of that there sort," meaning their own. After this, the Regent was for Cruikshank a stimulant to the drollest audacities. The world was younger then and could laugh uproariously at the bursting of a dandy's stays and the mislaying of a roué's removable whiskers. Mrs Grundy had not persuaded it of the superior comicality of Mrs Newlywed's indestructible pie-crust and Mr Staylate's interview with the parental boot. So George, who, at any rate, was real life, blossomed abundantly to another George'sadvantage. ThusThe Coronation of the Empress of the Nairs(September 1812)—a simile suggested by a contemporary account of a curious Asiatic race—depicts him as crowning the Marchioness of Hertford in her bath;A Kick from Yarmouth to Walesillustrates the assault of the provoked Earl of Yarmouth upon his wife's too fervent admirer; andPrincely Agility(January 1812) shows His Royal castigated Highness confined by a convenient sprained ankle to bed, where his whiskers and wig are restored to him. The opening of Henry the Eighth's coffin in St George's Chapel, Windsor, April 1, 1813, suggests to CruikshankMeditations Amongst the Tombs, in which the greatness of the deceased sovereign forcibly strikes the Regent. "Great indeed!" he is made to say, "for he got rid of many wives, whilst I, poor soul, can't get rid of one. Cut off his beard, doctor, 'twill make me a prime pair of royal whiskers." The prince's partiality for the bottle is severely illustrated. InThe Phenix [sic] of Elba Resuscitated by Treason(May 1, 1815), he receives the news of Napoleon's outbreak, seated on a cushion with a decanter behind him; and even when he wasKing, Cruikshank dared to draw him (1822) as drunk and curing an irritated cuticle by leaning his kilted person against one of the posts of Argyleshire.

If, however, Caroline of Brunswick had not, by adopting a Meredithian baby and other eccentricities, condemned herself to "Delicate Investigation" in 1806 and to a trial before the House of Peers in 1820, Cruikshank's delineations of Adonis the Great would have seemed genial compared with Thackeray's contempt. That his sentiment for the lady was less chivalrous than Thackeray esteemed it, may be divined by his caricature of her as an ugly statue of Xantippe put up to auction "without the least reserve" (1821), which is less than two months older than his conception of her as a rushlight which Slander cannot blow out. But he perceived, as did the whole intelligent proletariat, the monstrous irony of George's belated notice of his wife. Hence in his woodcuts to "The Queen's Matrimonial Ladder" and "Non Mi Ricordo!" he is not comic but satirical, and satirical with strokes that turnThe Dandy of Sixtywho bows with a grace into a figure abjectly defiant, meanly malevolent,devoid of levity. A cut in the former pamphlet shows him standing in a penitential sheet under the seventh, ninth and tenth commandments, meeting the gaze of an astonished urchin; on the outside of the latter pamphlet we see him in the throes of awkward interrogation, uttering the "Non Mi Ricordo" which Caroline's ill-wishers were tired of hearing in the mouth of Bergami.

Mary Anne Clarke, our second type of ascendant degeneracy, was, if Buck's drawing of her is truthful, a woman of seductive prettiness, but she could not teach Cruikshank her charm in atonement for her venality. He drew her petticoat "supported by military boots" and surmounted by a cocked hat and the mitre of the ducal bishop of Osnaburg (February 23, 1809); "under this," it is stated, "may be found a soothing for every pain." When Whigs and the Prince of Wales sent the Duke of York back in 1811 to the high post which he had disgraced, Mrs Clarke dwindled in Cruikshank's caricature to a dog improperly exhibiting its contempt for Colonel Wardle's left eye. It is curious that the Clarke scandal did not apparently inspire any caricature which deserves to live as pictorial criticism. Revealing,as it did, not only rottenness in the State, but in the Church, since Dr O'Meara sought Mrs Clarke's interest for the privilege of preaching "before royalty," one may well be surprised at the failure of caricature to ennoble itself in the cause of honour and religion. Yet Cruikshank produced in 1811 a powerful etching—Interior View of the House of God—which shows, apropos a lustful fanatic named Carpenter, his power to have seized the missed opportunity. In this plate is the contemporary portrait of himself which P. D'Aiguille afterwards copied.

If we ask, for our soul's sake, to sicken of the Regent's amours and of the demure "Magdalen" of York, whose scarlet somehow softens to maroon because she is literary and quotes Sallust, it is necessary to leave the caricatures which laugh with her—especially Rowlandson's—and look at Cruikshank's tormented John Bull. The most pathetic is perhapsJohn Bull's Three Stages(1815). In the last stage (Peace with all the World) his child, once pressed to eat after repletion, says, "Give me some more bone." The hand that drew the earlier plates ofThe Bottleis unmistakable in this etching.

It was seemingly in 1819 that Cruikshank first realised his great powers as a critic in caricature. To that period belongs what a pamphleteer called "Satan's Bank Note":—

"Notes which a 'prentice boy could makeAt fifteen for a shilling."

The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street earned thereby the sobriquet of Hangland's Bank, and her victims included two women on a day when Cruikshank looked at the gibbet of the Old Bailey. They were hanged for passing forged one pound notes. Cruikshank thereupon drew his famousBank Restriction Note, signed by Jack Ketch, and with a vignette of Britannia devouring her children above anLof rope. Hone issued this note (of which there are three varieties) from his shop on Ludgate Hill, a stone's throw from the gibbet; the public flocked to see and buy it, and the moral was not lost upon the Bank of England, who thereafter sent forth no more one pound notes. The pathos as distinct from the tragedy of the condition thus relieved is well recalled by the caricature invented by Yedis and drawn by Cruikshank entitledJohnny Bull and his Forged Notes(January 7, 1819).

Johnny Bull and his FORGED Notes!! or RAGS & RUIN in the Paper Currency!!! No. 865 in Reid's Catalogue, published Jan. 1819.Johnny Bull and his FORGED Notes!! or RAGS & RUIN in the Paper Currency!!! No. 865 in Reid's Catalogue, published Jan. 1819.

We now turn to the lighter side of his topical journalism. One of his subjects was gas-lighting.The Good Effects of Carbonic Gas(1807) depicts one cat swooning and another cut off from the list of living prime donne by the maleficence of Winzer's illuminant. In 1833 Cruikshank reported a ghost as saying to a fellow-shade, "Ah! brother, we never has no fun now; this 'March of Intellect' and the Gaslights have done us up."

Jenner had him for both partisan (1808) and opponent (1812). In the former rôle he makes a Jennerite say, "Surely the disorder of the Cow is preferable to that of the Ass," and the realism is nauseous that accompanies the remark. As opponent he wittily follows Gillray, who in 1802 imagined an inoculated man as calving from his arms. Prominent in Cruikshank's caricature (a bitter one) is a sarcophagus upon which lies a cow whom Time is decapitating. "To the Memory of Vaccina who died April the First," is the touching inscription.

I have already mentioned Cruikshank as a chronicler of fashion. Gillray was his master in this form of art, though the statement doesnot rest on the two examples here given. The thoughtful reader will not fail to admire the incongruity between the children in the drawing of 1826 and the great verities of Nature—cliff and sea—between which they strut. The latter drawing is as grotesquely logical as a syllogism by Lewis Carroll. Comparable with it in persuasiveness is Cruikshank's short-skirted lady (December 1833) who is alarmed at her own shadow, which naturally exaggerates the distance between her ankles and her skirt. Thence one turns for contrast to the caricature of crinolines in "The Comic Almanack" for 1850. It is calledA Splendid Spread, and represents gentlemen handing refreshments to ladies across wildernesses of "dress-extenders" by means of long baker's peels. Such drawing educates; it has the value of criticism.

JUVENILE MONSTROSITIES, published January 24, 1826.JUVENILE MONSTROSITIES, published January 24, 1826.

This praise is tributary to Cruikshank's second journalistic period. By journalistic I mean topical, attendant on the passing hour. His first journalistic period begins formally with his first properly signed caricature, an etching praised by Mr F. G. Stephens, entitledCobbett at Court, or St James's in a bustle, and published by W. Deans, October 16, 1807. Thisperiod includes Cruikshank's contributions to "The Satirist," "The Scourge," "Town Talk" and "The Meteor." It merges into the second period in 1819, the year that saw the first three volumes of "The Humourist." The principal journalistic works of this second journalistic period areCoriolanus addressing the Plebeians(1820), "Scraps and Sketches" (1828-1832), "The Comic Almanack" (1835-1853), "George Cruikshank's Omnibus" (1842), and "George Cruikshank's Table Book" (1845).

Coriolanusis less a caricature than atableau vivant. It was invented by J. S., whom Mr Layard says was Cruikshank's gifted servant Joseph Sleap. The "Plebeians" are Thistlewood the conspirator, Cobbett armed with Tom Paine's thigh bones, Wooler as a black dwarf, Hone, George Cruikshank, etc. George IV., in his Shakespearean rôle abuses them soundly. As regards the monarch, the work is un-Cruikshankian; its laborious and minute technique is a foreshadowing of a happier carefulness.

The journalism of "Scraps and Sketches" is immortal inThe Age of Intellect(1828), which even Mrs Meynell, writing as Alice Thompson, found "most laughable." Here ababe whose toy-basket is filled with the works of Milton, Bentley, Gibbon, etc., learnedly explains the process of sucking eggs to a gaping grandmother, who suspends her perusal of "Who Killed Cock Robin?" while she declares that "they are making improvements in everything!" To my mind the best topical plate in "Scraps and Sketches" isLondon going out of Town, or the March of Bricks and Mortar(1829). No one who has seen a suburb grow inexorably in field and orchard, obliterating gracious forms and sealing up the live earth, can miss the pathos of this masterpiece. Yet it is not a thing for tears, but that half smile which Andersen continually elicits by his evocation of humanity from tree and bird and toy. For Cruikshank gives lamenting and terrified humanity to hayricks pursued by filthy smoke. He gives devilish energy to a figure, artfully composed of builder's implements, which saws away at a dying branch; and he imparts an abominable insolence to a similarly composed figure which holds up the notice board of Mr Goth.

Fatal effects of tight lacing & large Bonnets From "Scraps and Sketches," Part I., May 20, 1828.Fatal effects of tight lacing & large Bonnets From "Scraps and Sketches," Part I., May 20, 1828.

Nearer perhaps to Cruikshank's heart than this triumph of fancy wasThe Fiend's FryingPan(1832), published in the last number of "Scraps and Sketches," which represents the devil, immensely exultant, holding over a fire a frying-pan which contains the whole noisy lascivious crowd and spectacle of Bartholomew Fair. The fair was proclaimed for the last time in 1855, and Cruikshank was pleased to figure himself as an inspirer of the force that struck at its corrupt charm after the fair of 1839 and condemned it to a lingering death.The Fiend's Frying Panis now chiefly remarkable as an early example of Cruikshank's love of crowding a great deal of real life into a vehicle that belittles it. This frying-pan sends the thought forward to the etching entitledPassing Events, or the Tail of the Comet of 1853, where Albert Smith's lecture on Mont Blanc, a prize cattle show, emigration to Australia, and "Uncle Tom's Cabin," are all jumbled together in the hair of a comet which possesses a chubby and beaming face.

The pictorial journalism of the "Comic Almanacks" is often delicious; no ephemerides, in my knowledge, equal them in sustained humorous effect.Guys in Council(1848) haunts one with its grave idiocy. Even HisHoliness Pius X. could scarce refrain from smiling at the blank stare of the rigid papal guy in the chair, at the low guy who, ere leaving the conclave, challenges him with a glance of malignant cunning. On the other hand, it would be hypercritical to seek a prettier rendering of an almost too pretty custom thanOld May Day(1836), with its dancers ringing the Maypole by the village church. Cruikshank's extraordinary power of conveying dense crowds into the space of a few square inches—say six by three—is shown inLord Mayor's Day(1836) andThe Queen's Own(1838), illustrating Victoria's Proclamation Day. In the 1844 Almanack he humorously foreshadows flying machines in the form of mansions; but the 1851 Almanack shows his liberality scarcely abreast of his imagination, asModern Ballooningis represented by an ass on horseback ascending as balloonist above a crowd of the long-eared tribe.

SEPTEMBER—MICHAELMAS DAY. From the "Comic Almanack," 1836.SEPTEMBER—MICHAELMAS DAY. From the "Comic Almanack," 1836.

One cannot, however, glance through Cruikshank's Victorian caricatures without perceiving that the passing of the Regent slackened his Gillrayan fire. True, in the "Table Book" we have a John Bull whose agonyreminds us of the suffering figure inPreparing John Bull for General Congress(1813): the midgets of infelicitous railway speculation who strip this bewildered squire of hat and rings, of boots and pocket-book, while a demented bell fortifies their din, are of an energy supremely Cruikshankian: no other hand drew them than the hand which enriched the immortality of the elves in Grimm. Nor will one easily tire of a vote-soliciting crocodile in the "Omnibus"; and yet the fact remains that the great motives of Cruikshank's political caricature pulsated no more. He was ludicrously incompetent for the task of satirising the forward movement of women: the Almanacks show that, if their evidence be required. The subjects of Queen Victoria found in Keene and Du Maurier pictorial critics who, by the implication of their veracity, their success, demonstrate his imperfect understanding of a generation to whom George the Fourth was history and legend. To the ironists of that generation there was something in the Albert Memorial more provocative than the

"—huge teapots all drill'd round with holes,Relieved by extinguishers, sticking on poles"

which distinguished the Folly at Brighton. It is too much to say that the art of the Victorian epoch establishes this fact; yet of what caricaturist can it be said as of Cruikshank that his naïf enthusiasm for all that an Age rather than a Queen signified by the Albert Memorial forced him into the rôle of its patron rather than its satirist? InA Pop Gun(1860) there is a pathetically feeble engraving, after a drawing by Cruikshank of Prince Albert and the late Queen, which almost brings tears to the eyes, its insipidity is so loyally unconscious. And what does all his marvellous needlework in the Great Exhibition novel entitled "1851: or The Adventures of Mr and Mrs Cursty Sandboys," accomplish for satire in comparison with what it accomplishes as a puff and a fanfare? Here, as in theCometof his ill-fated Magazine (1854), is a skill beside which his Georgian caricatures are but a brat's defacement of his Board School wall. And yet what is the answer to our question? Nothing. It is an answer that rings down the curtain on the diorama called "Cruikshank the journalist."

Cruikshank's didactic work was the offspring of his journalism. No man can journalise with spirit and remain uncritical. Criticism is, in truth, the soul of caricature, which by stressing the emphasis of Nature on face and expression makes even simpletons judges of grandees. Photography itself is on the side of illusion; but caricature has X-rays for the deformed fact. That a habit of criticism should evolve a passion for preaching is only natural, though it is the modern critic with his hedonistic bias who has armed the word didactic with a sting. Even such a critic must admit that Cruikshank's preaching was from living texts and that the preacher seemed well versed in "St Giles's Greek." But before speaking specifically of his didactic drawing we will consider what led up to it. A balladier ofcirca1811 threatens mankind as follows:—

"Since I have had some comic scenes,Egad! I'll sing them all, sir,With my bow, wow, what a row!fal lal de riddy, riddy, sparkey, larkey,funny, dunny, quizzy, dizzy, O."

This animal outburst breathes the spirit of all the "bang up" books of the last Georgian period, and might almost have served as a motto for Pierce Egan's "Life in London" (1821), and David Carey's "Life in Paris" (1822). Blanchard Jerrold's bibliography of Cruikshank begins with "A Dictionary of the Slang and Cant Languages" (1809), to which the artist contributesThe Beggars' Carnival—a folding frontispiece. In assisting his brother Robert—who styled himself "original suggester and artist of the 2 vols." containing "Life in London" and its sequel—to illustrate the rambles and sprees of "Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., and his elegant friend Corinthian Tom," George seems to have seen carnival on a more liberal scale. "Life in London" ranges from the Westminster [Dog] Pit to Rotten Row, and from the [Cyprian] Saloon of Covent Garden to the Press Yard of Newgate. One of the spirited plates (Tom and Jerry taking Blue Ruin) powerfullypresents some pitiable pothouse types, and is a text, though it is not a sermon. Another illustration, reproduced here, compares equally withDick and His Companions Smashing the Glimin Carey's work. While illustrating "Life in Paris," George, working alone, pursued the example set by Robert when they collaborated. Carey credits him with "accuracy of local delineation"—praise which he has often and variously deserved—yet it must be confessed that Dick Wildfire like Corinthian Tom is at once commonplace and out-of-date. In face he is like George in early manhood as Corinthian Tom was like Robert; that is his chief recommendation. The book may be silently offered to any one who asserts that George's taste in literature was too nice for Pierce Egan. One of his plates turns a catacomb into a scene of vulgar mirth.

These novels of excess were stepping-stones to a sounder realism which we find in "Mornings at Bow Street" (1824) and "More Mornings at Bow Street" (1827). Here the illustrator's task was to illustrate selected police cases, and through the medium of wood engraving a most delectable entertainmentwas the result. A choleric gentleman's row with a waiter presents itself as a fractured plate in the rim of which two tiny figures display respectively the extremes of napkined deprecation and of kicking impudence. Tom Crib[b]'s pursuit of a coppersmith suggests a wild elephant storming after a frenzy of flying limbs. The genius that was to realise Falstaff is disclosed in the drawing of a drummer boy discovered in a clothes basket. Did he come to Bow Street? we ask, and did those Cupids fighting in the circuit of a wedding-ring come too? The answer is Yes, but because of one who probably was not there, whose name we know.

Tom, Getting the best of a Charley. From "Life in London," by Pierce Egan, 1821.Tom, Getting the best of a Charley. From "Life in London," by Pierce Egan, 1821.

At one illustration let us cry halt. It represents a foaming pot of beer assaulting a woman who said to the magistrate, "Your honour, it was the beer." In itself it is a masterpiece of delicate literalism. That power of enlivening the inanimate, which humanises the pump, representing Father Mathew at a small party in "The Comic Almanack" of 1844, exasperates this pot and bids it strike home. But what we are to observe particularly is this early presentation to Cruikshank's mind ofalcohol as a personality at war with human beings. As far back as 1811, inThe Dinner of the Four-in-Hand Club at Salthill, an uproarious piece in the style of Rowlandson'sThe Brilliants(1801), he put the genius of the bottle into form and anecdote, but here we have the serious aspect of drink obvious even in humour. Beer is striking a woman. In 1832 he produced inThe Ale House and the Homea contrast so stated in the title that we need say no more than that the gloomy wife and her baby, sitting by candlelight in the bare room where the man's supper lies to reproach his drink-spoiled appetite, are a sadder sight than the frying-pan of St Bartholomew's Fair in the number of "Scraps and Sketches" where they appear.

To "Sunday in London" (1833)—a capital social satire—Cruikshank contributed fourteen cuts, one of which,The Pay-Table, preserves the memory of those mischievous contracts between publican and foreman, whereby the latter received a percentage of the spendings of his men on drink and the men were provided with drink on the credit of the foreman. It is an admirable study in fuddled perplexityconfronted with Bung in a business instead of a Bacchic mood, abetted by a shark of the victim's calling. Two other cuts—mere rabblement and eyesore—leave on the mind a feeling of disgust almost without interest and without shame. The spectator has no sense that these people turned out at church time, raging, leering, tottering, have deteriorated from any average or standard of human seemliness. If it were not for a dog gazing in amazement at one prone drunkard, if it were not for the dog and his question, one would ask,Cui bono?

This is not missionary work—Cruikshank was only "flirting with temperance" as late as 1846—and we need have no compunction in seeking relief from such ugliness in the exquisite burlesque of pathos contained inOver-head and Under-foot(1842). Forget who can the agonised impatience bolted and Chubb-locked in the breast of that lonely bachelor, but expressed in his folded arms and upturned face.

OVER-HEAD AND UNDER-FOOT. From "The Comic Almanack," 1842.OVER-HEAD AND UNDER-FOOT. From "The Comic Almanack," 1842.

1842, which saw that, also saw John O'Neill's poem "The Drunkard," and especiallyThe Raving Maniac and the Driv'ling Fool, one of four etchings by Cruikshank which illustrateit. An anonymous writer, in an article for an 1876 reprint of the etchings, says that these two figures "are the most forcible ever drawn by the artist's pencil." This opinion is unjust to the force of Cruikshank's comic figures, and to that terrible pair, Fagin in the condemned cell and Underhill bawling at the stake, but the force of the etching thus praised is extraordinary. With parted blubber lips and knees relaxed, his nerveless left hand dangling at the wrist like a dead white leaf, his right hand grasping the gin-glass, the fool, unconscious of tragedy, faces the maniac who streams upon the air sleeves that much exceed the length of his homicidal arms. By reason of the delicacy of the etching which conveys these haunting figures, they excite pleasure before horror, and always in horror a little pleasure too.

We now come to the famous series entitledThe Bottle(1847) and its sequelThe Drunkard's Children(1848). Both these works were printed from glyphographic blocks and have as little charm as a stentorian oration in a small chapel. The story they tell, told also in verse by Dr Charles Mackay, is the ruin of a workingman and his family through drink. The appeal ofThe Bottleis simple enough to appal the aborigines of Africa, to say nothing of the East End: the bottle is a "Ju-ju," an evil fetish; the impulse of the beholder is to smash the bottle rather than to spill and waste its contents. Yet when the eye succeeds in detaching itself from this pompously evident bottle, it perceives that the artist has cared also for details less immediate, but of a finer eloquence. The liberally filled mantelshelf of plate 1 is at least not a mere labour of memory, though no one exceeds George Cruikshank in the pictorial multiplication of domestic details. This mantelshelf is a symbol; symbols, too, are the open cupboard, so well furnished that a less industrious artist would have shut it, and the ill-drawn but well-nourished felinity by the fire. In plate 2 the cupboard holds naught but two jugs; the lean cat prowls over the bare table; an ornament on the mantelshelf lies on its side. Had an artist and not a missionary composed plate 3, we might have been spared the indecency of a bottle in Lucy's lap when the furniture is distrained to pay the bottle's debt. Yet with what horrid strengthdoes the maniac in plate 7 clutch the mantelpiece, whose bare ledge is lit by a dip stuck in a bottle, while all the neighbours stare at something whose face we cannot see! The artist has shouted till he was hoarse, but his story is in our marrows.

The Drunkard's Childrencontains one masterpiece: plate 7, the boy's death on the convict-ship. The convict who closes his eyes has the sagacity of a sentient corpse; the shadow he casts on the screen which two convicts draw around the bed is, in effect, a creature to startle us, and the visible half of the chaplain's top-hat lying on a bench in a corner of the drawing is an irony which seems to belong to a later age than Cruikshank's.

The Bottle, employed as an argument by Mr William Cash, converted Cruikshank to teetotalism. The result has been to present the artist to modern hedonists in the light of a ludicrous bore. Certain it is that in his version ofCinderella(1854) he causes the dwarf to inform the King that "the history of the use of strong drinks is marked on every page byexcess which follows, as a matter of course, from the very nature of their composition,"the italics being Cruikshank's, though they might well be mine. Teetotalism needs talking and writing, and Cruikshank was happy to oblige. He possessed a fluent pen, and delivered lay sermons with enthusiasm and originality.

(a) THE GLASS OF WHISKEY AFTER THE GOOSE. From "The Glass and the New Crystal Palace," 1853.(a) THE GLASS OF WHISKEY AFTER THE GOOSE. From "The Glass and the New Crystal Palace," 1853.

(b) THE GOOSE AFTER THE WHISKEY. From "The Glass and the New Crystal Palace," 1853.(b) THE GOOSE AFTER THE WHISKEY. From "The Glass and the New Crystal Palace," 1853.

About four years after his abandonment of alcohol, Cruikshank began to figure as a pamphleteer. In 1851 appeared his "Stop Thief"—containing hints for the prevention of housebreaking, hallmarked by teetotalism: it has a drawing of a burglar retiring because his companion discloses a board containing the words, "No Admittance Except On Business." In 1852 came the "Betting Book," against both drink and betting; this has a drawing of two wonderfully knowing fox-faced bipeds contemplating a row of geese absorbed in the perusal of the betting lists. Followed "The Glass and the New Crystal Palace" (1853), in which, after confessing that he "clung to that contemptible, stupid and dirty habit" of smoking three years after he had "left off wine and beer," he adds, "at last I laid down my meerschaum pipe and said, 'Lie you there! and I will never take you up again,'" Thedrawings of anserine flight and intoxication here reproduced compel us to admit that the cerebral compartment containing Cruikshank's sense of humour was watertight. In 1854 came "George Cruikshank's Magazine." It lived long enough for him to inveigh against tobacco through the medium of a rather lifeless etching entitledTobacco Leaves No. 1; and he died before he could publish in it certain drawings, included, I believe, in a series given to the world in 1895 by Sir B. W. Richardson, which ridicule the "hideous, abominable, and most dangerous custom" of sucking the handles of sticks and umbrellas. To the didactic excesses of his "Fairy Library" I need not further refer, but in 1856 came a quasi-temperance pamphlet, "The Bands in the Parks," where the devil plays the violin with his tail; in 1857, "A Slice of Bread and Butter" (re-issued with prefatory "Remarks" in 1870), a good-humoured satire on conflicting views of charity towards waifs; in 1860, "A Pop-Gun ... in Defence of the British Volunteers of 1803"; in 1863, "A Discovery concerning Ghosts," in which he claimed to be the only one who ever thought "of the gross absurdity ... ofthere being such things as ghosts of wearing apparel, iron armour, walking sticks, and shovels;" and here we have a mild and pleasant hint of the inspissated egoism which dictated "The Artist and the Author" (1872), the work in which Cruikshank asserted himself to be the originator of "Oliver Twist," "The Miser's Daughter" and "The Tower of London." This unfortunate but characteristic pamphlet is the last of the series that seems to have been called into existence by theinsanabile scribendi cacoëthesinduced by his fame as a teetotaler. I said characteristic, because a jealous dislike of seeing his individuality merged into, overshadowed by, or confounded with any other is apparent not only in 1872, but in 1834, when he carefully named in "My Sketch Book" his brother Robert's works, and pictured himself as lifting off the ground, by tongs applied to the nose, their publisher Kidd, for whom he is anxious to state he only illustrated "The Gentleman in Black" (1831). Moreover in 1860 he misused his "Pop-Gun" to picture another publisher, who advertised his nephew Percy as Cruikshanktout court, as a sandwich-man similarly assaulted byhim; yet by some freak of humour or affection the "very excellent, industrious, worthy good fellow" Percy, over whom I throw the embroidery of his uncle's praise, bestowed the name of George upon his son, as if for the confusion of bibliographers, and the evocation of a spirit armed with the ghosts of tongs. Indeed the gods themselves seem to have sported with George Cruikshank's name, for Dr Nagler, having read that "the real Simon Pure was George Cruikshank," wrote thus in his "Neues allgemeines Künstler-Lexicon" (1842): "Pure Simon, der eigentliche Name des beruhmten Carikaturzeichners Georg [sic] Cruikshank."

Simon Pure shall save us from digression by leading us to a didactic work by Cruikshank of which Mrs Centlivre's "quaking preacher" would have heartily approved. This work is the oil-painting entitledThe Worship of Bacchus(1862). It is an old man's athletic miracle, being a picture thirteen feet four by seven feet eight, of which there exists an etching by the same hand of less, though formidable size, which was published June 20, 1864. The oil-painting was presented to the nation by Cruikshank's friendsand conveyed to its destination April 8, 1869. Cruikshank drew a fancy sketch of his mammoth on that great day of its life. Little did he imagine what the cognoscenti of the twentieth century would think of it.

I saw it in 1902; visited it much as one visits an incarcerated friend, following a learned official with jingling keys to a dungeon under the show-rooms of the National Gallery. It was alone, was convict 495, alone and dingy. Many phrases have been found for this picture. John Stewart said that it contains "all the elemental types of pictorial grouping, generalised on the two axioms of balance and variety." Another critic said that "it is not even a picture, but a multitude of pictures and bits of pictures crowded together in one huge mass of confusion and puzzle." Cruikshank himself said, speaking August 28, 1862, "I have not the vanity to call it a picture.... I painted it with a view that a lecturer might use it as so many diagrams."

However he felt, Cruikshank spoke correctly. Painted in low relief, the oil-painting presents his intention less satisfactorily than his etching of the same subject. Whatever itsdemerit, the work is extremely Cruikshankian. Robert and George Cruikshank, in the "Corinthian Capital" of "Life in London," patched up a similarly artificial fabric. George, in a work that should not be mentioned in the same breath—The Triumph of Cupid(1845)—evokes innumerable amatory incidents by means of the tobacco which he renounced so contumeliously. We have inThe Worship of Bacchus, the result of a method equallynaïfand ingenious. The root idea is materialised in conjunction with a myriad of associative ideas, and the picture is worse than a confusion; it is a ghastly and ostentatious pattern at which one can neither laugh nor cry. It is the work of a big accomplished child, whose ambition to be grown up has destroyed his charm.

At the summit of the picture Bacchus and Silenus wave wine-glasses while respectively standing and sitting on hogsheads. In the middle of the design is a stone ornamented with death's-heads, on which a drunkard waves a glass and bottle in front of the god and demi-god. The stone has an inscription tributary to the drunkard's victims. On the left sideof the throne of Bacchus are a distillery, reformatory, etc.; on the right is a House of Correction, Magdalen Hospital, etc. In short, the picture is a pictorial chrestomathy of drink. That it has converted people, that it has even won the tribute of a man's tears, is not surprising, for it is, or was, full of truthful suggestion seizable by the mind's eye. But it is not beautiful. Thackeray might call it "most wonderful and labyrinthine"; it is ugly and ill painted, for Cruikshank was no Hogarth with the brush.

So it lay, and perhaps yet lies in its dungeon, and overhead Silenus still triumphs divinely drunk on Rubens's canvas; and Bacchus, ardent for Ariadne, leaps from his chariot in that masterpiece of Titian, which Sir Edward Poynter believes is "possibly the finest picture in the world." Poussin's Bacchanalian festivities are still for the mirth of a world whence Bacchus has fled; but the god enthroned on hogsheads is not mistaken for Bacchus now: Bacchus was stronger than Cruikshank. The whole deathless pagan world of beauty and laughter is by him made rosier and more silvery. Cruikshank never drewhim; the god he drew was Bung in masquerade.

I was at Sotheby's on May 22, 1903, when the Royal Aquarium copy of the etching ofThe Worship of Bacchuswas sold. It evoked a sneer of "wall paper"; and if etchings could think, it would have envied the seclusion in which I found its brother in oils.

But at least it was not given to the nation. The fact that the National Gallery should possess Cruikshank's colossal failure instead of hisFairy Ring, instead of any etching from "Grimm" or "Points of Humour," is an accusation against common sense and a triumph of irony.

Let it be remembered, however, that Cruikshank's exposure of ebriety from 1829 to 1875, the date which John Pearce in "House and Home" assigns to his last temperance piece, deserved at times the notice of fame. Matthew Arnold, denying the power of "breathless glades, cheer'd by shy Dian's horn" to calm the spectator ofThe Bottle, showed more than his ignorance of Diana and her peace. He showed that Cruikshank the preacher was a magician too.

The best part of Cruikshank's service to Fact has yet to be considered. We have seen how he journalised and exhorted; we have still to see the talent he poured into journalism and exhortation refined by his historical sense and expressing itself in shapes of treasurable beauty.

The historical sense in art may be liberally defined as an æsthetic impulse to fix the vanishing and recover the vanished fact. It may be absent at the birth of a cartoon filled with political portraits and it may have urged the reproduction of a quiet landscape with nothing more human in it than a few trees or a line of surf. It operates without pressure of topicality and it is stronger than the tyranny of humour.

The reader, searching for the earliest examples of Cruikshank's historical imagination to be found in the books which he illustrated, would first of all alight on "The Annals ofGallantry," by Dr A. Moore (1814-15), and "An Historical Account of the Campaign in the Netherlands in 1815," by William Mudford (1817). Suspecting the grotesque, he would nevertheless also examine the thirty plates to the Hudibrastic "Life of Napoleon" (1815) by Dr Syntax.

As to the "Annals," one may unreluctantly condemn the whole series of plates after a glance at the feeble scratches which disfigure the amours of Lady Grosvenor and the Duke of Cumberland, and the elopement of Lady W—— with Lord Paget. In Mudford's ungenerous history, Cruikshank's frontispiece, engraved by Rouse (as are his other contributions), has the stiff integrity of portraiture to be expected from a repressed caricaturist; Napoleon in flight on his white horse in another plate does not even support the comparison of his horsemanship to a sack of flour's; the ribbon-like plate of Waterloo, full of microscopic figures, has the chastened spirit natural to a work done "under the inspection of officers who were present at that memorable conflict."

The illustrations to Dr Syntax's Hudibrasticpoem on Napoleon have some originality to recommend them as a starting-point for the student of Cruikshank as a delineator of historical subjects. They are etchings, broad as the typed surface of an octavo page is long, and include theRed Manderided on page 21. But the artist already shows that he has fancy as well as satire at his command. Witness the illusion created by the sleeping Napoleon lifting the coat on his bed in humping the counterpane with perpendicular toes, an effect which was remembered in Cruikshank'sIdeality(Phrenological Illustrations, 1826). There is humour, too, in the etching which represents one of Napoleon's grenadiers mounted on a stool in order to look as terrible as his companions. Though a rancorous prejudice makes Napoleon stand on a cross in one plate and his apothecary smile at poisoning the sick at Jaffa in another, there is sympathy in a third which depicts him nursing the King of Rome, and the eccentricities of Cruikshank's journalistic style are happily absent.

We may now pause at the four famous volumes of "The Humourist" (1819-20). They contain,inter alia, a portrait of Alfieri—a finefigure of silent disdain—in the act of sweeping to the floor the tea service of a badly drawn Princess, who was tactless enough to wish he had broken the whole set instead of one cup. The table leg is a satyr's surmounted by the Mephistophelian head considered appropriate to the companions of Pan; above the main design are the implements of a writer; below it are two porcelain mandarins yoked to a three-headed and triply derisive bust. Another historical subject in "The Humourist" is Daniel Lambert, to whom a bear once doffed his hat. Ursine politeness and the petrified majesty of fat Lambert fill the foreground of the etching; behind is a rout of people frightfully interested in another bear. In the former of these etchings the hint is better than the performance; the latter hints nothing and performs a little admirably.

1823-4 is a period to which we owe some historical etchings of consummate skill. They illustrated "Points of Humour," a work in two parts which was expressly designed to afford scope for Cruikshank's power of rendering ludicrous situations. The artist was on his mettle, and his twenty etchings for this collectionof anecdotes are among the immortal children of Momus. Among his simpler designs is the scene in the apartment of Frederick the Great when his heir presumptive demanded if the monarch would return his shuttlecock. The required studies of childish impudence and royal amusement are perfect. More elaborate, but equally successful, is the drawing of the voracious boor, the ill-natured general whom he offered to eat, and the King of Sweden who enjoyed the spectacle of their emotions. The boor with the hog on a plate under his arm, his terrible teeth a-glitter for hog and general, is more alarming than the ogre in Cruikshank'sHop-o'-my-Thumb; he tacitly affirms his creator's power to confer delicious terrors on the nursery. Flying Konigsmark's fear of pointing hand and barrack-like paunch mingles exquisitely with the hatred of his backward glance, and Charles Gustavus smiles with unpardonableaplomb. The etching is a comic masterpiece. After this there is no advance in Cruikshank's comic treatment of history, for his quite simple rendering, more than ten years later, "Miscellany" (1838), of a freak of absent-mindedness on the part of Sir IsaacNewton in "Bentley's," is of merely sufficient merit.

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