"When the Elephant stands upon his Head, does he himself know whether he is standing upon his Head or his Heels?" "George Cruikshank's Magazine," February 1854.
We are not, however, reminded of America by the inquiry printed below the elephant on the next page, which might well have surprised Lewis Carroll by resemblance more than all the works of Mr G. E. Farrow. Neither does America recognise the silence of her own laughter in those drawings in which Cruikshank caricatures humanity under zoological likenesses. His alderman realising Haynes Bayly's wish to be a butterfly in "My Sketch Book" (1835); his coleopteral beadle in "George Cruikshank's Omnibus" (1842), are simple attempts to make tours de force of what is rather obscurely called the obvious, and one realises that art can find itself strong in embracing feeble idea. The most striking of his zoological ideas is the effect of abnormal behaviour on human people. Witness in "Scraps and Sketches" (1832) the "dreadful tail" unfolded in the dialogue: "Doth he woggle his tail?" "Yes, he does." "Then I be a dead mon!" One may also cite the horror of the diver at the rising in air of a curly and vociferous salmon from the dish in front of him (ibid.). Among all his drawings of animals (those for Grimm excepted) there is one etching which stands out as a technical triumph produced by a sense of irony. I refer to the etching entitled The Cat Did It! in "The Greatest Plague of Life" (1847). Fifteen pussies in a kitchen throw the crockery off the dresser, topple the draped clothes-horse into the fire, smash the window glass and devour the provisions. The scene is like a burlesque of one of its designer's etchings in Maxwell's "Irish Rebellion." It is unique.
We must not quit Cruikshank's zoological drawings without remarking on the curious inconsistency of his attitude towards animals. We find him both callous and tender. In illustrating "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen" he chose (one assumes) to draw the Baron flaying the fox by flagellation; at any rate we have his wood-cut depicting the abominable operation; and in "Scraps and Sketches" (1832), poor Reynard, for the sake of a pun, is exhibited as "Tenant intail" of a spring-trap. Yet in "My Sketch Book" (1835) he presents us with frogs expostulating with small boys for throwing stones at them ("I pray you to cease, my little Dears! for though it may be sport to you, it is death to us"). Again, his canine reference to cats' meat, already mentioned, implies a heartlessness towards horses which is contradicted by his touching but not much prized etching The Knackers Yard, to be found in "The Voice of Humanity" (May 1831), in "The Melange" (1834), and in "The Elysium of Animals" (1836). Moreover, in "My Sketch Book" (1835) he severely exhibits human insensitiveness to the sufferings of quadrupeds in The Omnibus Brutes—qy. which are they? It is therefore clear that Cruikshank thought humanely about animals, though as a humorist he was irresponsible and gave woe's present to ease—its comicality. And before we write him down a vulgarian let us remember our share in his laughter at the absurdity of incarnations which confer tails on elemental furies and indecencies, and compel elemental importances and respectabilities to satisfy their self-love by ruinous grimaces and scaffoldings of adipose tissue.
"THE CAT DID IT!" From "The Greatest Plague in Life" (1847).
In a comparison I have already associated Cruikshank with Lewis Carroll, who was systematically the finest humorist produced by England till his death in 1898. The most intensely comic thing ever wrought by the hand of Cruikshank is, I think, by the absolute perfection of its reasoning a priori, a genuine "carroll" in a minor key. It is the drawing in "Scraps and Sketches" (1832) in which, to a haughty, unamused commander, the complainant says, "Please, your Honor, Tom Towzer has tied my tail so tight that I can't shut my eyes."
One of Cruikshank's humorous ideas is particularly his own, because it satisfies his passionate industry. I mean those processions of images which he summoned by the enchantment of single central ideas. The Triumph of Cupid in "George Cruikshank's Table Book" (1845) is as perfect an example as I can cite. Cruikshank is seated by a fire with his "little pet dog Lilla" on his lap. From the pipe he is smoking ascends and curls around him a world of symbolic life. The car of the boy-god is drawn by lions and tigers. Another cupid stands menacingly on a pleading Turk; a third cupid is the tyrant over a negro under Cruikshank's chair; a fourth cupid, sitting on Cruikshank's left foot, toasts a heart at the "fire office"; more cupids are dragging Time backwards on the mantelpiece, and another is stealing his scythe. Consummate ability is shown in the delicate technique of this etching, which was succeeded as an example of multum in parvo by the well-known folding etching Passing Events or the Tail of the Comet of 1853, appearing in "George Cruikshank's Magazine" (February 1854).