George Cruikshank’s habit of putting himself forward as the originator of any work with which he was connected was never more amusingly displayed than when, in March 1870, he made one of a deputation of the National Education League to Mr. Gladstone. “I must say,” he remarked on this event, in his introduction to the second edition of his ‘Slice of Bread and Butter,’ “that it afforded me much gratification to hear all the suggestions which I had placed before the public so many years ago, so eloquently and forcibly advocated upon this occasion.”
It was a harmless assumption in this instance, to be freely forgiven in the earnest old man who was still exerting himself to the utmost of his ability for what he conceived to be the right way, in the cause of popular education.
He had thrown his ideas into one of those whimsical forms, peculiar to him. He was fond of illustrated pamphleteering, and the reclamation of ragged children left out in the cruel streets hungry and half naked had always been a subject near to his heart. His last effort in their behalf he called “A Slice of Bread and Butter.” On the title page we find one of his bright little pictorial stories in wood. An outcast child lies upon the pavement surrounded by a crowd of men, who are in eager consultation as to the restorative which shall be administered. In the distance is the parish church, but overhead swings the sign of the Britannia, and the landlord, with a pipe in his mouth, is contemplating the scene from the bar parlour. The story is told with all the old completeness.
The crowd consists of “some worthy gentlemen, magistrates, and others,” who, on their way “to the Town Hall on county business,” have found this forlorn boy upon the pavement leaning against the wall. As he was neither begging nor stealing, and did not obstruct the pathway, he could not be taken into custody. When asked what was the matter, he replied, “I wants summut to eat.” Then follows the learned consultation around the starving boy:—
“Now the worthy magistrates and the other gentlemen—some of whom were clergymen, and ministers, and lawyers—were all kind-hearted and benevolent men as well as the doctor; and they all exclaimed, as with one voice, upon hearing what the doctor said, ‘Oh, dear me, how very shocking!—let him have some food instantly!’
‘Yes, yes!’ cried one: ‘here, officer! go into the Britannia, and get him something to eat instantly.’
‘I suppose,’ said he, turning to the doctor, “a bit of plain bread and butter wall be best for him in his present condition?’ ‘The very thing,’ he replied; and as the officer was about to run into the house to get a bit of bread and butter, another gentleman of the party cried out, ‘Stop! see that you bring brown bread.’ ‘Pooh! pooh!’ said another; ‘it does not matter what sort of bread it is, but it must be toasted.’ ‘White or brown, or plain or toasted, it matters not much,’ exclaimed a fourth, ‘provided there is plenty of butter on it.’ ‘I object most decidedly to the butter,’ observed a very sedate gentleman. ‘As to that,’ shouted out another, ‘I consider the butter as most essential: it is full of nourishment; and, besides, the poor boy might be choked by cramming dry bread down his throat without butter; but then we must be careful that it be salt butter.’ ‘No! no!’ cried another; ‘fresh butter, if you please, and as much as you please; but no salt.’ ‘You are all wrong, my friends!—quite wrong!’ vociferated another of the party; ‘depend upon it, that dry toast is the best thing he can have.’ ‘Oh! oh! oh!’ exclaimed all the other gentlemen; ‘who ever heard of such a thing as giving dry toast to a starving child?’ ‘Who ever, indeed!’ chimed in another; ‘it is quite ridiculous to toast the bread at all; the poor child might die before it was ready! No! no! plain bread and butter is best for him; but mind, if I have to pay my part towards it, the bread must be new—yes, new bread.’
‘New bread!’ exclaimed some of the party why, that’s worse than all; for if it does not stick in his throat, it will in his stomach, and perhaps kill him. New bread is indigestible and most unwholesome stuff.’ ‘Well, well; let it be plain stale bread and butter, but only the crumb of the loaf, and I will pay my part willingly,’ observed another. ‘Crumb without crust!’ said one of the former speakers; ‘why, the crust of the loaf contains ten times more nourishment than the crumb, and I, for one, will have nothing to do with it, nor pay a farthing towards it, unless he has a good lump of crust.’
“Now during this contention, or
‘all this splutter About the toast and bread and butter,’