“Oh, Father Mathew I why dost thou incline
Against all spirits thus to whine?
To preach against good liquor is a scandal.
Why to such rash conclusions jump—
To airy, dull, unsocial pump,
Why give a handle?
Water is very well—but then ‘tis known
That well is always better let alone.
Washing is water’s only function,
Save when a little drop poured in—
To brandy, whisky, rum, or gin,
Makes glorious grand junction.”
The kindly humourist’s etching-needle was inspired by every good cause. These almanacs have all morals underlying the fun. Cruikshank liked to have an object in view. No class, no creature was too humble for his sympathy. Landseer never drew anything better than the plate of the Dog-Days—suggested by “the Dogs Bill” of 1843. Two hard-working, very radical dogs who are drawing a truckful of hardware, scowl at a pair of genteel dogs, extravagantly arrayed, and smoking cigars, who cross their path. First radical dog says he believes they don’t know the side “their tails hang on,” they are so proud—adding, “Why, a cousin of mine, as lives at Barking, tells me as how the celebrated dog Billy has grown so proud that he has declined to kill any more rats. And as to cigars! why bless you, there ain’t a Puppy about Town but wot has got a cigar stuck in his mouth.” In a corner a watch-dog and a dancing dog are talking over their grievances; while in the distance a lady tells her footman to take care her spaniel, Duchess, does not get her feet wet. The dogs are inimitable. Bloomers, crinoline, over-population (a Cruikshankian plate showing the housetops covered with the superabundant humanity), the “steamed-out” stage-coachman, the “fast man,” female parliaments, baby-jumpers, cheap excursion trains, taking the census, the effect of the Peace Society (a regiment hay-making), Jullien as the President of the French Republic, “with entire new politics and polkas,” a pack of knaves, being a meeting of the betting interest,—these are but a few notable pictures of the crowded gallery. Cruikshank revelled in the fun, and sought to extract wisdom from it He had an old-fashioned idea of woman and her rights, and was sharp with his needle over female suffrage, ladies in pantalettes, and women of mind.
[Original Size] -- [Medium-Size]
Henry Mayhew wrote some verses on a woman of mind, during one of the years of his editorship (1847), beginning,—
“My wife is a woman of mind,
And Deville, who examined her bumps,
Vow’d that never were found in a woman
Such large intellectual lumps.
‘Ideality’ big as an egg,
With ‘Causality’—great—was combined;
He charg’d me ten shillings, and said,
‘Sir, your wife is a woman of mind.’”
Cruikshank’s picture of her is one of his stereotyped, ill-favoured, stuck-up, figureless ladies, of whom a friend said one day, when looking over some sketches, in Amwell Street, “Why, George, your females are all shaped like hour-glasses.”
For pure fun nothing could be better than the “Banquet of the Black Dolls,” in commemoration of the reduction of the Duty on Bags. The doll who occupies the chair has before her a Grand Potage de Dripping, and the menu includes Pâté de Horseshoes, Omelette de Old Iron, Bones Boil-é, Rag-out de Superior White Linen Rag, Fricassée de Broken Glass, and Poudin Kitchen Stuff.