| “Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast, To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.” |
The irritable personage awoke from his slumbers by the music of the waits, certainly does not belong to any of the order of animate or inanimate subjects so softened, soothed, or bent, as aforesaid, for he opens his window and prepares to discharge the contents of his jug on the heads of the devoted minstrels. If the ancient ophicleide player, with the brandy bottle protruding from his great coat pocket, might but know of the impending cataract which more immediately threatens himself, he would convey himself from the dangerous neighbourhood with all the alacrity of which his spindle shanks are capable. A younger neighbour on the opposite side of the street awaits the catastrophe with amused interest, whilst a drunken “unfortunate” executes—under the elevating influences of music and drink—a pas seul on the pavement below. In the etching of Story Telling, the deep shadows of an old baronial hall are illuminated solely by the moonbeams and the flickering flame of the firelight; a door opens into a gallery beyond, and one of the listeners, fascinated by the ghost story to which she is listening, glances fearfully over her shoulder as if apprehensive that something uncanny will presently issue out of the black recesses. The ghostly surroundings have their influences on the very cat, who looks uneasily about her as if afraid of her shadow. Besides the thirty-six etchings on copper, the book contains several charming woodcuts, impressed on paper of a very different quality to that on which the artist was accustomed to behold impressions from his wood blocks.
Of a class entirely different to the foregoing may be mentioned the still rarer series of comicalities executed by the artist under the title of “New Readings of old Authors,” of which we may notice the following: Moved in Good Time (Taming of the Shrew, Act 2, Sc. 1), a tax-gatherer and other creditors bemoaning themselves outside the premises of a levanted debtor; I am to get a man, whate’er he be (Act 3, Sc. 2), disciples of Burke and Hare providing themselves with a living subject; I do remember when the fight was done, when I was dry (King Henry IV., Part 1, Act 1, Sc. 3), a victorious prize-fighter recruiting his exhausted frame by imbibing many quarts of strong ale; He was much Feared by his Physicians (Act 4, Sc. 1), an irascible gouty patient flinging medicine bottles and nostrums at one of his doctors, and stamping a prostrate one under foot; You are too great to be by me gainsaid (King Henry IV., Part 2, Act 1, Sc. 1), a huge woman administering chastisement to a small and probably (in more senses than one) frail husband; My Lord, I over rode him on the way (Act 1, Sc. 1), a miserable huntsman who has ridden over and killed one of the master’s fox-hounds; He came, saw, and overcame (Act 4, Sc. 2), a wretched Frenchman, who, overbalancing himself, falls over the rails of a bear-pit amongst the hungry animals below; Never was such a sudden scholar made, (King Henry V., Act 1, Sc. 1), in allusion to the installation of the Duke of Wellington as Chancellor of Oxford University; A Midsummer Night’s Dream, a fat sleeper suffering under the agonies of nightmare, under the influence of whose delusion he fancies himself roasting before a vast fire, with a huge hook stuck through his stomach; and, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens: as she is mine, I may dispose of her (Act 1, Sc. 1), an Englishman attempting to dispose of his ugly, wooden-legged old harridan of a wife by auction. The lithographic stones on which the drawings to these “New Readings” were made, and which comprised no less than three hundred drawings, were effaced before the artist’s death, and impressions from them are now, of course, more than difficult to procure. The Shakespeare series were collected and republished in four volumes, in 1841-2, by Tilt & Bogue, of Fleet Street, and even these last are very seldom met with.
On the 10th of December, 1831, there started into life a periodical of decidedly pronounced political bias and opinions, entitled “Figaro in London.” Politics ran high in those days; it was the time of the great agitation for “reform,” which in those days, as we shall presently see, was both loudly called for and imperatively necessary. A mob of boys and degraded women had taken complete possession of Bristol,—had driven its deformed little mayor over a stone wall in ignominious flight,—had burnt down the gaol and the mansion-house, and laid Queen Square in ashes, whilst the military and its very strangely incompetent officer looked on while the city was burning.[103] Every one in those days was either a rabid Tory or an ultra Radical. It was just the period for an enthusiastic youth to plunge into the excitement of political life; but the crude, unformed opinions of a young man scarcely of age are of little value, and the political creed of the proprietor and originator of this literary (?) venture does not appear to have been clearly defined even to himself. In his valedictory addresses written three years afterwards, when things were not altogether so rosy with him as when he started his periodical, he confesses that he belongs to no party, for “we have had,” he says, “such a thorough sickener of the Whigs, that we do expect something better from the new government, although it be a Tory one.”
The price of “Figaro in London,” one of the immediate predecessors of the comic publications of our day, was a penny, quite an experiment in times when the price of paper was dear, and periodical literature was heavily handicapped with an absurdly heavy duty. “Figaro” consisted of four weekly pages of letterpress illustrated by Robert Seymour. The projector, proprietor, and editor, was Mr. Gilbert à Beckett, whose name—with those of men of vastly superior literary attainments—was associated in after years with the early fortunes of Punch. The literary part of the performance was indeed sorry stuff,—the main stay and prop of the paper from its very commencement was Seymour, whose drawings however suffered severely at the hands of the engraver and paper maker. An eccentricity of the publication perhaps deserves notice. It professed to look with sovereign contempt upon advertisements, as occupying a quantity of unnecessary space—considering, however, that exception was made in favour of one particularly persevering hatter of the period, we are driven to the conclusion that the projector’s contempt for a source of revenue which modern newspaper proprietors can by no means afford to despise, was nearly akin to that expressed by the fox after he had come to the melancholy conclusion that the grapes he longed for were absolutely beyond his reach.
The new periodical assumed from the outset a position which cannot fail to amuse the journalist and reader of the present day. It professed to look down upon all other publications (with certain exceptions of magnitude, whom the editor deemed it prudent to conciliate) with supercilious contempt. The absurdity of these pretensions will strike any one who turns over its forgotten pages, and compares his pretensions with Mr. à Beckett’s own share of the performance. The mode in which this young gentleman’s editorial duties were conducted, gathered from extracts taken at random from the “Notices to Correspondents,” were, to say the least, peculiar: “A. B., who has written to us, is a fool of the very lowest order. His communication is rejected.” Poor Mr. Cox of Bath is told he “is a rogue and a fool for sending us a letter without paying the postage. If he wants his title page, let him order it of his bookseller, when it will be got as a matter of course from our publisher,” and so on. The aristocracy are regarded with a disfavour which must have given them serious disquietude. The “coming out” of the daughter of the late Lord Byron, or a soirée at the Duchess of Northumberland’s town house, serve as occasions for indulging in splenetic abuse of what Mr. à Beckett was pleased to term “the beastly aristocracy.” Authors, even of position, were not spared by this young Ishmael of the press, the respected Mrs. Trollope, for instance, being unceremoniously referred to as “Mother Trollope.” The only excuse of course for this sort of thing is to be found in the fact that comic journalism being then in its infancy, personal abuse was mistaken for satire; while, so far as the bad taste of the editor is concerned, allowance must be made for an inexperienced young man who imagined that the editorship of a paper, wholly destitute of merit except that which Seymour brought to its aid, conferred upon himself a position which rendered him superior to the rules of literary courtesy.
With all these pretensions, however, à Beckett was conscious of the powerful assistance he was receiving from the artist; and we find him, after his own peculiar fashion and more than questionable taste, constantly alluding to the fact; describing him at various times as “that highly gifted and popular artist, Mr. Seymour;” “our illustrious artist Seymour;” and so on. In the preface to his second volume, he indulges in the following flight of fancy, which will suffice to give us an idea of the literary merits of the editor himself: “In this our annual address,” he says, “we cannot omit a puff for the rampant Seymour, in whom the public continue to see-more and more every time he puts his pencil to the block for the illustration of our periodical.” This was the sort of stuff which passed for wit in 1832.[104] As for Seymour himself, he was annoyed at these fulsome and foolish compliments, and in a letter which he wrote to À Beckett after the quarrel to be presently related, told him in the plainest terms that, “the engraving, bad printing, and extravagant puffing of his designs were calculated to do him more harm than good as an artist.”
But artist and editor jogged on together in perfect good will until the 16th of August, 1834, when, for the first and only time, “Figaro in London” made its appearance without any illustrations at all. The two succeeding weekly issues contained each a single woodcut after Seymour’s drawing, but from that time until the end of the year, when À Beckett himself retired from the proprietorship and disposed of his interest in the concern, the paper was illustrated by Isaac Robert Cruikshank; this change was due to the following circumstance.
A special feature of “Figaro in London” was its theatrical leader. À Beckett had always taken an interest in dramatic matters, and was himself author of some thirty plays, the very titles of which are now forgotten. Not content with being proprietor and editor of a newspaper, he was concerned at this time in another venture, being proprietor and manager of a theatre in Tottenham Court Road, known at different times under the various designations of the Tottenham Street or West London Theatre, the Queen’s, and latterly as the Prince of Wales’ Theatre. The result was almost a foregone conclusion. A newspaper is a sufficiently hazardous speculation, but a theatre in the hands of an inexperienced manager is one of the most risky of all possible experiments; and the result in this case was so unfortunate, that À Beckett in the end had to seek the uncomfortable protection of the insolvent court. He was considerably indebted to Seymour for the illustrations to “Figaro,” half of the debt thus incurred being money actually paid away by the artist to the engraver who executed the cuts from his drawings on the wood. Finding that À Beckett was in no position to discharge this debt or to remunerate him for his future services, Seymour did—what every man of business must have done who, like the artist, was dependent on his pencil for bread, refused any longer to continue his assistance. Apart from the bad paper and bad impressions of which he complained, and above all the bad taste displayed in fulsome adulation of his own merits, supremely distasteful to a man of real ability, Seymour appears hitherto to have entertained no bad feeling towards À Beckett personally.
The result however was a feud. À Beckett was not unnaturally angry, and an angry man in his passion is apt to lose both his head and his memory. Forgetting the manner in which he had shortly before acknowledged the services and talent of the artist, he now attacked him and his abilities with a malice which would be unintelligible if we had not seen something of his nature and disposition. In his favourite “Notices to Correspondents” in the number of 13th September, 1834, he professes to account for the employment of Isaac Robert Cruikshank after the following disingenuous fashion: “Mr. Seymour, our ex-artist, is much to be pitied for his extreme anguish at our having come to terms with the celebrated Robert Cruikshank in the supplying the designs of the caricatures in ‘Figaro.’ Seymour has been venting his rage in a manner as pointless as it is splenetic, and we are sorry for him. He ought, however, to feel, that notwithstanding our friendly wish to bring him forward, which we have done in an eminent degree, we must engage first-rate ability when public patronage is bestowed so liberally, as it now is upon this periodical. He ought therefore not to be nettled at our having obtained a superior artist.” The public, however, were not to be gulled; they perfectly well knew that Isaac Robert Cruikshank was an inferior artist in every respect to Seymour, and had not forgotten the tribute which the foolish editor had previously paid to the talents and ability of the latter. Conduct like this could only recoil on the head of the person who was injudicious and spiteful enough to be guilty of it. The “Notices to Correspondents” in subsequent numbers continued to be filled with references and allusions to Seymour, dictated by a malice which was alike silly and childish. They are not worthy of repetition here, and we must refer the reader for them to the numbers of “Figaro in London” of 20th September and 15th November, 1834, or (if he have not access to its pages) to the short biographical notice prefixed to the latest edition of the “Sketches” by Mr. Henry G. Bohn. We have no doubt whatever that the interval between these dates was employed in fruitless endeavours on the part of À Beckett to arrange terms with the artist, who, however, steadily refused to give the failing publication the indispensable benefit of his assistance. Left as it were to its own resources, the circulation, in spite of the graphic help accorded by Robert Cruikshank, steadily declined, and À Beckett finally retired from the editorship and proprietorship on the 27th of December, 1834. Seymour wielded a far more effectual weapon of offence than any which À Beckett possessed, and dealt him blows which at this time and in his then circumstances must have been keenly felt. One of Seymour’s satires is aimed specially at the “Notices to Correspondents” already mentioned, and shows us a heavy, vulgar fellow seated at his desk, habited in a barber’s striped dressing-gown à la Figaro. His features are distorted with passion, for he has received a letter the contents of which are anything but flattering, addressed “To the Editor of the nastiest thing in London.” This sketch bears the following descriptive title: “An editor in a small way, after pretending a great deal about his correspondents, is here supposed to have received a letter.” A second skit shows us a critic examining a picture representing “the death of À Beckett, Archbishop of Cant.” A figure in armour, with its vizor down (obviously intended for the artist) is depicted in the act of cutting at the “archbishop” with a sword, the blade of which is inscribed “debts due.” His first blow has severed the mitre labelled “assumption,” and the pastoral staff, inscribed “impudence,” with which the victim vainly endeavours to defend himself. “Don’t,” says À Beckett, as he falls prostrate amid a heap of “spoilt paper,” among which we recognise, “Figaro,” “The Thief,” “The Wag,” and other periodicals with which his name was associated. “Don’t cut at me ‘our own inimitable, our illustrious, our talented;’ pray don’t give me any more cuts; think how many I have had and not paid you for already:” a hand indicates the way “to the Insolvent Court.”