CHAPTER VII. CRUIKSHANK’S LAST TWENTY YEARS.
The most notable of George Cruikshank’s book-work, after the failure of bis magazine, was his “Life of Sir John Falstaff,” * illustrating a biography of the knight, written in Robert Brough’s happiest manner. Cruikshank’s twenty Falstaff etchings are admirable examples of his peculiar excellences as an etcher, and of his matured artistic faculty of composition and observation.
* Published by Messrs. Longman and Co., 1857.
In these plates are some of the brightest bits of his picturesqueness of outline, his happy, sprightly treatment of light and shade, and of his higher faculties as an artist, of which fate permitted him to give the world only scattered fragmentary evidences. Thackeray said of him, that he could draw an ancient gloomy market-place as well as Mr. Front or Mr. Nash. What could be more picturesque, or daintier in the play of light, or happier in the variety of the architecture, than the backgrounds of the scenes where Sir John is arrested at the suit of Mrs. Quickly, or when the knight not only persuades Mrs. Quickly to withdraw her action, but also to lend him more money? Mr. F. Wedmore has called attention, and with ample reason, to the exquisite pathos of the death of Falstaff, “in which the face of one who has died ‘a babbling of green fields,’ lies very calm, with the sign of gentle fancies but lately flown.”
These plates were reissued in a “Library Shakspeare” published in parts between 1871 and 1874, together with illustrations by Sir John Gilbert (who, by the way, in his youth delighted in copying Cruikshank’s etchings and drawings on wood); but it is to be hoped that they may some day be rewedded to Brough’s biography, and reappear as the artist’s last important creation.
The twenty years which elapsed between the first issue of “Falstaff” and the artist’s death, albeit no idle years, have left not much completely worthy of the best that had gone before. Cruikshank furnished etchings to the “Life and Enterprises of Robert William Elliston, Comedian” (1857), “Midnight Scenes and Social Photographs—revelations of the Wynds and Dens of Glasgow” (1858), Mr. Alfred Cole’s “Lorimer Littlegood” (1858), “Stenelaus and Amylda, a Christmas Temperance Tale” (1858), a frontispiece to Lowell’s “Biglow Papers” (1859), Dudley Costello’s “Holiday with Hobgoblins” (1861), “The Bee and the Wasp; a Fable in Verse” (1861), “A Discovery concerning Ghosts” (1863), Robert Hunt’s “Popular Romances of the West of England” (1865), the “Savage Club Papers” (1867), “The Oak,” a magazine, edited by his friend the Rev. Charles Rogers (1868), “Coila’s Whispers,” by the Knight of Morar (1869), “The Brownies,” and other tales, by Juliana Horatia Ewing (1870), “The True Legend of St. Dunstan and the Devil,” by Edward G. Flight (1871), “Lob-lie-by-the-Fire,” and other tales, by Juliana Horatia Ewing (1874). Then there are two works, the illustrations to which proclaim the coming end. “Peeps at Life,” and “Studies in my Cell,” by the London Hermit, published in 1875, are signed “George Cruikshank, aged 83, 1875;” and in Mrs. Octavian Blewitt’s “The Rose and the Lily,” is a frontispiece—George Cruikshank’s last design—signed, “Designed and etched by George Cruikshank, age 88, 1875.” This plate is here reproduced.
Not before 1869 did George Cruikshank publish his last political plate.
In 1867 he put forth “The British Bee-Hive,” which was a rearrangement of a design made in 1840. The artist drew a section of the hive, displaying fifty-four cells, in which the various grades of society—from the Queen to the costermonger—are shown, all supported by the army, the navy, and the volunteers, and surmounted by the crown, the royal standard, and the union jack. This was a protest against further Parliamentary Reform; for, as it has been observed, Cruikshank was something of a Radical and something of a Tory—but more of a Tory. He afterwards issued this plate on a double sheet, inscribed “A Penny Political Picture for the People, with a few words upon Parliamentary Reform, by their old friend, George Cruikshank.”
In the following year the old satirist drew a “Design for a Ritualist High Church Tower and Steeple,” which he dedicated to Dr. Pusey and the Vicar of Bray. It was etched on glass by Hancock’s process. The tower of the church was a fool’s cap and bells, with the Pope for weathercock. The porch was a bull’s head, with a procession of Ritualist fools entering by the nostrils. The last, dated July 1869, is a satire upon Miss Rye’s proposition to export “gutter children” to America. “The little dears,” as the artist always called children, are being scooped by a clergyman into a mud-cart, from the volunteers, and sur-royal standard.
The satire was against those who had christened the little waifs and strays of our streets “gutter children.” The name jarred upon Cruikshank’s sensitive heart.
Mr. Wedmore, referring to the closing years of the great pictorial moralist, remarks, “He continued to labour; some of his work being even now but little known. * Early unpublished plates for the ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’ remain, amongst others, in the hands of Mr. Truman. Quite in recent years” (it was in 1868) “he must have executed a private plate for Mr. Frederick Locker, which shows that there were moments at least in which the store of his fancy was not impoverished. No more ingenious design could have been furnished to a collector than this of ‘Fairy Connoisseurs examining Mrs. Locker’s treasures of Durer, Rembrandt, etc.’ For Mr. Ruskin, too, in 1866, there had been designed the ‘Piper of Hamelin,’ leading the children mountain wards with the spell of his wonderful music. And in 1870 a a frontispiece representing the fertile Mr. Barham, surrounded by the creatures of his brain. And yet more recent plates, the property of Mr. Bell, the publisher—one of the ‘Family Window,’ and one in ‘Lob-lie-by-the-Fire’—show that Cruikshank did not wholly outlive his talent. What he outlived was the social conditions he had best comprehended. Dying as it were only yesterday, he belongs so much to the past, because, though his period of production did not seem long over, his time of receptiveness was gone by. As a satirist, he belonged in spirit to another generation; we could not ask him to grapple, at fourscore years, with the foibles of ours.”
* His “Bachelor’s own Book; or, The Adventures of Mr.
Lambkin, Gent,” the story as well as the etchings being by
Cruikshank, for instance.
This is a true account of him, to all who knew Cruikshank well in his latter days.
Earnest, healthy, vigorous, and ambitious to the last; he could not resign himself to live on the glory of the past He must be ever up and doing—especially in the work that lay nearest his valiant heart. He scattered his temperance work far and wide. “The Fruits of Intemperance,” published by John Cassell, about 1855, is a minor design akin to that of the Triumph of Bacchus. The tree is covered with medallion-shaped fruit, and on each medallion is a picture showing the effects of intoxicating liquors. The roots of the tree are a bundle of serpents, and the surrounding ground is covered with tombstones, inscribed “early fruit.” But Cruikshank never lost an opportunity of preaching his moral. He made a drawing of “a drunken man knocking down a drunken woman, in Oxford Street” on a Sunday afternoon; and another of “a drunken ruffian knocking down a woman who carries a child,” in Farringdon Street. He illustrated the “Autobiography of a Thirsty Soul” in the Weekly Record; and for the same paper he drew a publican’s quart measure, with a death’s head in lieu of ale froth, two drunkards babbling of the strengthening properties of beer by a “Noted Stout House.” In the Band of Hope Review he illustrated a series, a parody on “The House that Jack Built,” called “the Gin Shop.” He threw off fly-leaves for Mr. Tweedie, as “A Man a Thing,” “The House in Shadow,” “The Loaf Lecture,” “There is Poison in the Pot,” “The Red Dragon,” and “The Smokeless Chimney,”—the last of which he designed as a contribution to the Cotton Famine Fund, during the American Civil War. But it didn’t pay. He was consoled, when publishers fell away from him and his means of living became precarious by the steady friendship of many admirers. He received a pension of £95 from the Crown, and one of £50 from the Royal Academy. In 1875, an endeavour was made by Mr. Charles Rogers to raise a second testimonial; but this effort finally took the shape of a committee (of which his good friend Dr. B. W. Richardson was chairman) to purchase the Cruikshank collection of etchings and drawings for the nation and drawings for the nation—the price put on it being £3,000—£500 more than the artist himself had fixed.
After much trouble and many disappointments, the collections passed into the possession of the Westminster Aquarium Company; Cruikshank receiving in December, £2500—the price put upon it being what artist himself had fixed; then receiving in 1876, £2,500, and a survivorship life-annuity for himself and wife of about £35.
The closing years of George Cruikshank’s life were harassed by a controversy about a design he made and a statue he modelled of King Robert the Bruce, to be erected by subscription at Bannockburn. The consequence was a very lamentable quarrel, during which Cruikshank claimed that he had been engaged by the committee to make the design, * and that the statue modelled by Mr. Currie was originated by him—the contrary being, according to the committee, the fact. Cruikshank, in co-operation with Mr. Adams-Acton, produced a model; that is, Cruikshank made a design, and then himself stood in the attitude of it as Mr. Adams-Acton’s model—the result being a statue, and one which found favour with members of the committee. But money disputes put an end to negotiations with Cruikshank. He had drawn £85 for expenses; his plan involved in any case an outlay which the funds would not cover; and finally, after many difficulties, the statue was committed to the care of Mr. Currie.
* In a letter to the Times (December 5th, 1877), he
remarked: “As I am the artist who was first engaged by the
Bruce Committee to make a design for a monumental statue of
King Robert the Bruce, I was very much surprised, upon
reading in the Times of the 26th ult. the account of the
unveiling of the Bruce statue at Stirling, to find that no
statement was made as to my being the original designer,”
etc.
But Cruikshank’s share in the transaction, as set forth by himself, and as addressed to the Scottish people in his eighty-fourth year, is too remarkable an example of his vigour in old age to be omitted.
“An Address and Explanation to the Scottish People, by George Cruikshank, with respect to the proposed Statue in Honour of King Robert the Bruce.
“In the month of May 1870, several Scottish noblemen and gentlemen formed themselves into a committee with the object of raising a fund by subscription, for the purpose of having a statue of King Robert the Bruce placed on “the field of Bannockburn,” in honour of that hero, and in memory of the great victory achieved by him and his army in that field on the 24th of June, 1314.
“Some friends of mine, who were on this committee, invited me to be a member thereof—which honour I was obliged to decline, as I could not spare the time to attend the meetings; but, as ‘The Bruce’ was one of my great heroes, I promised to give them all the assistance I could, and suggested the attitude for the figure, which they all approved of, and at their first meeting they decided that I should be requested to make the design for the statue.
“I must here explain that, although I am an artist and designer, I am not what is termed a sculptor; but it so happened that a friend of mine, a brother artist, who is a sculptor, chanced to see my design, and was so pleased with it, that he volunteered to make a model of it, which he did, acting upon my suggestions, and from me as I stood in the attitude and equipped in the armour.
“I also designed a pedestal; and when the model was completed, a cast in plaster of Paris was taken, and exhibited in my studio to the committee, and the noblemen, gentlemen, and friends who attended. All highly approved of the design and the model, and the gentlemen gave most flattering reports, for which I most sincerely thank them. After this I had the very great honour of submitting the model for the inspection of Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria at Windsor Castle.
“Several casts in plaster were taken from the model for exhibition in London and Scotland, for the inspection of any one who might feel disposed to subscribe; and the committee gave a commission to the sculptor, Mr. John Adams-Acton, to execute a bronze statue of ‘The Bruce,’ ten or twelve feet in height, to be placed on a rocky grey granite pedestal twenty-two feet high; and all seemed to be going on well, and the work was about to be commenced, when suddenly the subscriptions all stopped at once! and this, no doubt, was in consequence of the breaking out of the late war between France and Germany, which terrible contest so entirely absorbed the public mind, that ‘The Bruce’ was quite forgotten.
“This was, of course, a great disappointment to all connected with the press, who had visited my studio, concerned in the movement, and the matter since that time has been almost at a standstill; but I am happy to say that a military officer has joined our ranks, and who now takes the lead, and seems determined, if possible, to conquer and overcome all difficulties. This is Major-General Sir James E. Alexander, C.B., of Westerton, Bridge of Allan, and who is chairman of the ‘Bruce Local Committee of Stirling.’
“I have now to mention another disappointment to myself and the committee, which was, that the Odd Fellows of Stirling had erected a large flagstaff (by permission of the owner of the land) on the very spot where we had intended to have applied for permission to place the statue; that being the site where the Scottish standard was fixed on the day of the battle. This bit of ground being occupied, it was then thought that the best place to have the statue would be on the esplanade of Stirling Castle. Sir James Alexander thereupon applied to the Secretary of State for War for a space on the esplanade for this purpose, which request has most kindly been complied with.
“I must now explain to those who have not seen the original model that Bruce is there represented as if he were looking down with pity on the slain, and as if he were saying, ‘The fight is o’er, the day is won: I sheathe my sword.’ But now that the site is quite different to what was originally intended, it is necessary that the position of the figure should be altered; and, as will be seen by the accompanying rough sketch, the head is now elevated, and Bruce is supposed to be looking across the esplanade towards the field of Bannockburn, which is a mile and a half from Stirling Castle, and, as in the first model, Bruce has sheathed his sword.
“With respect to the pedestal, I may just explain that on the front part are the words ‘King Robert the Bruce’ in large letters, and following this, in smaller letters, is ‘Bannockburn, June 24, 1314.’ Under this line are two branches—one of laurel and the other of willow, emblems of victory and sorrow for the slain. Then is stated, ‘Erected by public subscription in the reign of Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. Between the words Victoria and Queen is a circular wreath formed of the Rose, the Thistle, and the Shamrock, in which circle are two hands joined, a male and female, as an emblem of the union by marriage of the two royal families of England and Scotland, and on one side of these royal families were the descendants of ‘the Bruce.’
“Nearly fifty years back I painted a picture of an incident in the life of Bruce, exhibited in the British Institution, Pall Mall, London, and was then careful to have the correct costume; but when making the design for the statue, ‘to make assurance doubly sure,’ I got my friend Mr. Bond, keeper of the Ancient Manuscripts at the British Museum, to let me look over the MSS. of the time of Bruce, and then found that I had got the correct costume. I think this is important; for should the statue be erected, all those who might look at it would see just such a powerful man as Bruce was, in the exact sort of armour and coat of mail that he wore on the field of Bannockburn.
“The Bruce in his early progress met with many difficulties, all of which, however, he overcame by his perseverance, and the ‘Bruce Committee’ and myself are following his noble example in this respect; and I trust that all the descendants of those ‘Scots whom Bruce had often led’ will rally round the Major-General and his committee corps, and assist them to place the statue of him who was the great commander of the Scottish army at the battle of Bannockburn in this safe and commanding position on the esplanade of Stirling.
“With regard to myself, as my ancestors were all natives of Scotland—some Lowlanders and some Highlanders—I should indeed be pleased to have my name associated with any national work of art that might be placed in the land of my forefathers, and I should consider it one of the greatest honours that could be conferred upon me if it could be written on the pedestal that this monument in honour of King Robert the Bruce was designed by the artist,
“George Cruikshank.
“Hampstead Road, London, August 1874.
“P. S.—I am authorized to state that subscriptions may be remitted to W. Christie, Esq., secretary to the Bruce Committee, Port Street, Stirling; or to the treasurer, John A. Murrie, Esq., the manager of the branch of the National Bank of Scotland at Stirling; and at London. And I am given to understand that about fourteen or fifteen hundred pounds are required, in addition to what is already in hand, in order to carry out the work in the first style of art.”
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At the ceremony of unveiling Mr. Currie’s statue in front of Stirling Castle (November 24, 1877), Major-General Sir James Alexander, of Westerton, in handing over the work to the Provost and Corporation of Stirling, said, that as they could not get a bronze statue “under the direction of an eminent artist, Mr. George Cruikshank, of London,” they had resolved to have one of durable stone.
This closing transaction of his life poor Cruikshank felt most bitterly; and he charged his old friend Dr. Rogers, Sir James Alexander, and all concerned in it, with having behaved in “a most dishonourable and disgraceful manner.” These were hot, ill-considered words, uttered in the pain of a very trying disappointment: words to be forgotten over the artist’s grave.
Mr. Frederick Wedmore gives us a peep at him as he went about of late, his heart still upon his sleeve as when he was young, in the days of the Regency: “Many of us who did not know him at home have at least met him about; for not only was he a familiar figure of the dreary quarter which he inhabited—where the dingy squalor of St. Paneras touches on the shabby respectability of Camden Town—but he travelled much in London, and may well have been beheld handing his card to a stranger with whom he had talked casually in a Metropolitan Railway carriage, or announcing his personality to a privileged few who were invited to see in him the convincing proof of the advantages of a union of genius with water-drinking. He was an entirely honest man; and who is there that would not forgive the little pleasurable vanities that he chose to allow himself at the fag end of a life not over-prosperous—a career no one had carefully made smooth, a career filled full of inventive work as rich as Hogarth’s and as genial as Dickens’s?”
“Occasionally,” Mr. Frederick Locker writes,* “he used to come to us and tell us his troubles, and what was occupying him; but, like many other interesting people, he did not talk about what would have been most worth hearing. The last time I saw him he spoke of having known Tom Hood (the elder) ** very well, but he did not tell as anything about him worth remembering.
* March 26th, 1878.
** When it was agreed that Cruikshank was to illustrate
Hood’s “Epping Hunt,” author and artist, with two or three
friends, spent a highly convivial day in the Forest. Hood
and Cruikshank were fast friends, and sat up together very
late of nights in Amwell Street—the wild humour and
prodigious animal spirits being a delight to the quiet
humourist, under whose form lay a serious poetic mind, and a
tender heart.
Poor man, it was a bitterly cold morning last December, and he arrived before breakfast, and stayed to breakfast. Mr. Austin Dobson was there; and he told us the story of how he invented Old Fagin in the condemned cell.” Mr. Dobson says of him at this breakfast: “On the morning in question (I think it must have been the 14th of December last, 1877), Mr. Cruikshank came in; and I, who had not seen him more than once or twice in my life, was only too eager to ask him all sorts of questions about himself. Except that he was a little bent, he had no appearance of age—certainly not of the advanced age he had reached. He was very-bright and alert, and appeared to have an excellent memory for the circumstances of his career.”
He celebrated his silver wedding on the 8th of March, 1875, when his house was crowded with his friends and admirers, who took tea with him. Mr. S. O. Hall, his old friend, addressed a few words to the company, which so affected Mrs. Cruikshank, that she fell weeping upon her husband’s neck. Mr. Walter Hamilton, who was present, remarks: “To receive the congratulations of so many friends was a task which would have fatigued and excited many a younger man than Mr. Cruikshank; but he preserved his self-possession through it well, having a ready jest and a smile for each and all; whilst Mrs. Cruikshank, who was fairly hedged in on every side with bouquets, looked far too young to be one of the principals in such a ceremony. A guard of honour from his old corps attended to congratulate their late colonel. It was late in the afternoon before Mr. Cruikshank withdrew for a few moments from the crowded rooms, and as he went he whispered, laughingly, to the author, ‘You are down on our list of visitors for the Golden Wedding.’”
“On the morning of the 1st of February,” writes his young friend, Grace Stebbing, ** “there was still living a bright, brave-spirited old man, who had worked on untiringly almost to the end, even to within three weeks of his death, when I, one of those privileged to claim his friendship even from my infancy upwards, met him hurrying along the streets with cheerful, eager aspect, to keep ‘a business appointment.’”
** The Graphic, February 9th, 1878.
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