The letter was illustrated with two rough drawings of the Fanus for FitzGerald’s guidance. The last of them represented the toy held out by a truncated arm. Edwin Edwards, to whom the letter was forwarded, at once with true artistic instinct caught at the suggestion unintentionally conveyed, and, as will be seen from the etching here reproduced, accentuated the hidden presence of the “Master of the Show,” by making the arm which holds suspended this “Sun-illumined Lantern” of a world issue from the impenetrable darkness which hides its mysterious lord. Unfortunately, the Fanus is not etched with great success, although the artist made a special visit to the old India Museum, now dispersed, to study an example there on exhibition. Had the etching equalled the conception, the design could hardly have failed to satisfy even FitzGerald’s fastidious requirements. As it was, only a limited number[36] of proofs (from twenty to twenty-five) were printed by that cleverest printer of etchings, Mrs. Edwin Edwards, and the plate destroyed. Hence their rarity.
[33] This word is curiously enough misprinted “tall” in both Nichols’ and Quaritch’s editions of Mr. Heron-Allen’s book, whilst in the note to Professor Cowell’s article it is printed “tale.” It is something of a record, I should think, to find so many compositors and readers all at fault.
[34] Professor Cowell here refers to J. B. Nicolas, author of a French translation of Omar, published at Paris, 1867. In a note to Les quatrains de Khéyam traduit du Persan, he says: “In Persia the lantern is made of two copper basins, separated by a shade of waxed calico about a yard high. The lower one contains the candle, and the upper one has a handle for the arm of the ferrásh who carries it. The shade is folded like the familiar ‘Chinese lantern.’ Ornaments are painted on the cloth, and it is to the vacillation of these, as the carrier shifts it from one hand to another, that Omar refers.”
[35] Qy.: Has this French word for lantern the same root as Fanus?
[36] At least six of these have lately gone to America where they were feverishly bought up by enthusiastic Omarians.
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The conception is a really fine one, and might well have proved an illustration of the text in the best sense of that much-abused term, being, as it is, a very different thing from a mere translation of the words into pictorial form. It is far more than this. It is an illuminator of the meaning, and accentuates its spiritual significance. This is what illustration should do, but rarely does do, in these days of rapid and perfunctory production.
Of Edwin Edwards the artist I should like to take this opportunity of saying a word. His name is little known outside artistic circles, and it would be somewhat unfair to advertise it in connection with an etched plate which failed to give satisfaction without at the same time making allusion to pictorial work which was successful and meritorious. That he did produce work of real value is evident from the fact that one of his oil pictures of the Thames hangs at the Luxembourg in the Salle des Étrangers (for he was always more appreciated in France than in England), and that two years ago another canvas, and that hardly one of the best examples of his {189} work, was chosen by Sir Edward Poynter to be well hung in the Tate Gallery.
The suppressed frontispiece For “Omar Khayyam.” (By Edwin Edwards)