The nature and objects of the present work require little, if any,
explanation. The whole range of imaginative literature affords no
instance of a fictitious personage, ranking, almost inseparably, in the
public faith with the characters of actual history, parallel to that of
the inimitable Falstaff of Shakspeare. Other creations of the world’s
greatest dramatist may be as _vraisemblable_ and as vividly drawn. But
the peculiar association of Falstaff with events that are known to have
occurred, and personages who are known to have lived,--added to the fact
that his character has been developed to greater length and with more
apparent fondness than the poet was wont to indulge in,--make it a
matter of positive difficulty to disbelieve that Falstaff actually lived
and influenced the age he is assumed to have belonged to,--as much as
to doubt that Henry the Fifth conquered at Agincourt, that Hotspur was
irascible, and Glendower conceited.
It was a natural thought, then, for a modern humorist,--using the pencil
and etching point as his means of expression,--a man whose competence to
appreciate and illustrate the arch-humorist, Shakspeare, will scarcely
be disputed--to propose to himself a series of pictures embodying the
most prominent events in the imaginary career of Shakspeare’s most
humorous character--in which the illusion intended by the dramatist
should be carried out by an attention to chronological and
archaeological probability of detail, in a pictorial sense,
corresponding to the marvellous fidelity of historic local colour,
which, surrounding the movements of Sir John Falstaff in the
Shakspearian dramas, will continue (in spite of all material proof
whatever) to bring the veracious records of English history during the
fifteenth century into disrepute and suspicion--from the fact of their
omitting all mention of Sir John Falstaff’s name and achievements.
This design Mr. George Cruikshank has carried out in a series of
etchings which forms the essential part of the volume now offered to the
public,--with what success, it would not become the present writer--his
friend and colleague--to dilate upon. It may be stated, fairly, that no
pains have been spared by the artist to make his work conscientiously
complete. Every locality indicated by the poet has been carefully
studied either from personal observation or reference to the most
authentic records--(take, for example, the views of Shrewsbury and
Coventry as they appeared in the fifteenth century and the tall spire
of “Paul’s” before it was struck by lightning). The costumes, weapons,
furniture, &c., are from the best available authorities. Had Sir John
Falstaff really lived (as it must remain a matter of impossibility
to persuade the majority of mankind he did not), and gone through the
various experiences imagined for him by Shakspeare, it may be very
safely assumed that an eye-witness of all or any of them would have
observed a series of scenes very closely resembling the designs which
accompany these pages.
The writer of the letter-press--in no spirit of false modesty, but
in one of pure business-like candour--disclaims any share in whatever
public approval the work may attract. The design was not his but the
artist’s; and he has simply fulfilled, to the best of his powers, a
contract, cheerfully accepted, but not drawn up by him. An
imaginary biography of Falstaff, away from the scenes described by
Shakspeare--supposing the kind of life that must have led up to the
marvellous development of an individuality with which the poet has
made us all familiar--might have been a work worthy an ambitious man’s
undertaking. The ambitious man would, probably, have failed to satisfy
either his readers or himself,--but that is neither here nor there. The
plan of this work--namely, to illustrate the life of Sir John Falstaff
exclusively from the most striking passages in his career, as invented
by Shakspeare--was completed by the artist ere his literary colleague
was applied to for his willingly-rendered assistance. The latter claims
no higher place in the transaction, than one proportionate to that of
the fiddler who amuses the audience between the acts of a play, or the
lecturer who talks unheeded nonsense while a panorama is unrolling.
The author may be permitted one little word of apology, and, perhaps,
self-justification, for frequent breaches of punctuality in the
periodical issue of the work, for which he, alone, is responsible. The
concluding portion of his labours has been achieved under acute and
prolonged physical suffering. This may be no excuse for loose or
indifferent writing; but, in the memorable words of Ben Jonson to John
Sylvester--_it is true_.