That the author of “Three Courses and a Dessert” made a fair mark with
his book, apart and distinct from Cruikshank, is proved in a curious
way. In November 1838, Messrs. Chapman and Hall published a little
volume called the “Squib Annual,” with plates by Seymour. This led to a
suggestion from the artist, of a series of cockney sporting plates.
The publishers assented,--adding that they should be accompanied by
letterpress, and published monthly. But who should be the author? So
popular had Mr. Clarkes book been, that the publishers first sent to
him; and it was only after they had found that his yearly engagement
with Messrs. Vizetelly and Co. prevented him from accepting their
commission, and the affair had lain dormant a month or two in
consequence, that they turned to the author of Sketches signed “Boz,”
which had been lately appearing in the _Monthly Magazine_, and were
about to be issued (1836) in two duodecimo volumes. Mr. Forster tells
us that they came forth with a preface in which the author spoke of the
nervousness he should have had in venturing alone before the public,
and of his delight in getting the help of Cruikshank, who had frequently
contributed to the success, though his well-earned reputation rendered
it impossible for him ever to have shared the hazard, of similar
undertakings. It has been said that Cruikshank knew more of London
than the author of the Sketches which he illustrated. He may have had a
longer experience of London streets and mysteries; but Dickens, in his
London Sketches, written before he came in contact with the artist, had
proved how deeply his young eyes had penetrated the mysteries of the
great city, and how thoroughly his fresh heart had been stirred.
The first paper is on “Our Parish.” In this lies the germ of Oliver
Twist. Simmons is the father of Bumble. But scattered through the
Sketches may be found all the experience of which Oliver Twist was
the riper and more artistic and dramatic expression. The career of
the Parish Boy was exactly the romance the author of these wonderful
pictures of London would write. Had Cruikshank suggested these, and led
the young author from scene to scene, we might have understood part of
his claim to the conception of the romance; but he was called in by
the publisher, Macrone, to illustrate the magazine papers which he had
bought for republication from the young author for a trifle.
It is a strange coincidence that the representatives of Seymour, after
his death, claimed for him some share in the invention of _Pickwick_.
But Dickens was alive to set this pretension at rest for ever, and
others were at hand to bear witness to the fidelity of his memory.
Seymour never originated nor suggested “an incident, a phrase, or a
word,” and died when only twenty-four pages had been published. The very
name originally belonged to a celebrated coach proprietor of Bath; and
even the immortal figure of Mr. Pickwick is but a faithful portrait of
Dickens’s model, a Mr. Foster, who lived at the time at Richmond.
Pleased as Dickens was to see Cruikshank illustrating his pages, it
was not to him he (or his publishers) turned when poor Seymour suddenly
disappeared from the scene, but to Hablot K. Browne, who, as Phiz,
became afterwards associated with Boz’s greatest triumphs.
But while _Pickwick_ was running its triumphant career, Dickens made
arrangements that were destined to bring him into relations with
Cruikshank a second time. In August 1836, when the sixth number of
_Pickwick_ was about to be issued, Dickens signed an agreement with the
late Mr. Bentley, to undertake the editorship of a monthly magazine, to
be started in the following January, * In this magazine Dickens was
to “run” a _Magazine_. “But now,” he added, “we have settled to call it
simply _Bentley’s Miscellany_.”
* When the _Miscellany_, with Dickens for editor, was
resolved upon, the late Mr. Bentley observed at a dinner
given to complete preliminaries, “that the first title
suggested was the _Wits_.’
“We have gone to the opposite extreme?” cried Jerdan. So the work was
entered upon with a hearty laugh.
I will now set before the reader impartially the story of Cruikshank’s
contention as to his share in “Oliver Twist.” In his letter to the
_Times_, Cruikshank said:--
“When _Bentley’s Miscellany_ was first started, it was arranged that
Mr. Charles Dickens should write a serial in it, and which was to be
illustrated by me; and in a conversation with him as to what the subject
should be for the first serial, I suggested to Mr. Dickens that he
should write the life of a London boy, and strongly advised him to do
this, assuring him that I would furnish him with the subject, and supply
him with all the characters, which my large experience of London life
would enable me to do.
“My idea was to raise a boy from a most humble position up to a high
and respectable one--in fact, to illustrate one of those cases of common
occurrence where men of humble origin, by natural ability, industry,
honest and honourable conduct, raise themselves to first-class positions
in society. As I wished particularly to bring the habits and manners of
the thieves of London before the public (and this for a most important
purpose, which I shall explain one of these days), I suggested that the
poor boy should fall among thieves, but that his honesty and natural
good disposition should enable him to pass through this ordeal without
contamination; and after I had fully described the full-grown thieves
(the _Bill Sykeses_) and their female companions, also the young thieves
(the _Artful Dodgers_) and the receivers of stolen goods, Mr. Dickens
agreed to act on my suggestion, and the work was commenced, but we
differed as to what sort of boy the hero should be. Mr. Dickens wanted
rather a queer kind of chap; and, although this was contrary to my
original idea, I complied with his request, feeling that it would not be
right to dictate too much to the writer of the story, and then appeared
‘Oliver Asking for More’; but it so happened just about this time that
an inquiry was being made in the parish of St. James’s, Westminster, as
to the cause of the death of some of the workhouse children who had been
‘farmed out.’ I called the attention of Mr. Dickens to this inquiry,
and said that if he took up this matter, his doing so might help to save
many a poor child from injury and death; and I earnestly begged of him
to let me make Oliver a nice pretty little boy; and if we so represented
him, the public--and particularly the ladies--would be sure to take a
greater interest in him, and the work would then be a certain success.
Mr. Dickens agreed to that request, and I need not add here that my
prophecy was fulfilled; and if any one will take the trouble to look at
my representations of ‘Oliver,’ they w ill see that the appearance
of the boy is altered after the two first illustrations, and, by a
reference to the records of St. James’s parish, and to the date of
the publication of the _Miscellany_, they will see that both the dates
tally, and therefore support my statement.
“I had, a long time previously to this, directed Mr. Dickens’s attention
to Field Lane, Holborn Hill, wherein resided many thieves and receivers
of stolen goods, and it was suggested that one of these receivers, a
Jew, should be introduced into the story; and upon one occasion Mr.
Dickens and Mr. Harrison Ainsworth called upon me, and in course of
conversation I described and performed the character of one of these Jew
receivers,--and this was the origin of Fagin.”
Cruikshank maintained that his designs were all the result of
consultations with Dickens--in which he was as much the creator as the
author; and that he never saw any of the MS. of the novel until it was
nearly finished. No; he saw the proofs of the early sheets. The family
tradition was to the effect that Dickens, calling one day in Amwell
Street, saw a series of illustrations which Cruikshank had prepared for
a story he had in his mind of the life of a thief. Dickens was so struck
with them, and with the artist’s account of his plan, that he determined
to make London the scene of Oliver Twist’s adventures. Cruikshank’s
intimate knowledge of low life in every part of London made him the
most efficient and penetrating illustrator of Dickens’s book: this, and
nothing more.
And now let me quote Mr. Forster’s summary dismissal of the charge--for
it is nothing less--that Dickens was indebted to Cruikshank for the
idea, and for many of the incidents and characters, of “Oliver Twist.”
“The publication had been announced for October, but the third volume
illustrations interrupted it a little. This part of the story, as we
have seen, had been written in anticipation of the magazine, and the
designs for it having to be executed ‘in a lump,’ were necessarily done
somewhat hastily. The matter supplied in advance of the monthly portions
in the magazine formed the bulk of the last volume as published in the
book; and for this the plates had to be prepared by Cruikshank, also
in advance of the Magazine, to furnish them in time for the separate
publications; Sykes and his Dog, Fagin in the Cell, and Rose Maylie and
Oliver, being the three last. None of these Dickens had seen until he
saw them in the book on the eve of publication, when he so strongly
objected to one of them, that it had to be cancelled.
“‘I returned suddenly to town yesterday afternoon,’ he wrote to the
artist at the end of October, ‘to look at the latter pages of “Oliver
Twist’ before it was delivered to the booksellers, when I saw the
majority of the plates in the last volume for the first time. With
reference to the last one--Rose Maylie and Oliver--without entering into
the question of great haste, or any other cause, which may have led to
its being what it is, I am quite sure there can be little difference of
opinion between us with respect to the result. May I ask you whether you
will object to designing this plate afresh, and doing so _at once_,
in order that as few impressions as possible of the present one may
go forth? I feel confident you know me too well to feel hurt by this
inquiry, and with equal confidence in you I have lost no time
in preferring it.’ This letter, printed from a copy in Dickens’s
handwriting, fortunately committed to my keeping, * entirely disposes
of a wonderful story, originally promulgated in America, with a minute
conscientiousness and particularity of detail that might have raised the
reputation of Sir Benjamin Backbite himself. Whether all Sir Benjamin’s
laurels, however, should fall to the original teller of the tale, or
whether any part of them is the property of the alleged authority from
which he says he received it, is unfortunately not quite clear. There
would hardly have been a doubt, if the fable had been confined to
the other side of the Atlantic, but it has been reproduced and widely
circulated on this side also, and the distinguished artist whom it
calumniates by fathering its invention upon him, either not conscious of
it, or not caring to defend himself, has been left undefended from the
slander. By my ability to produce Dickens’s letter, I am spared the
necessity of characterizing the tale, myself, by the one unpolite word
(in three letters) which alone would have been applicable to it.”
* Mr. Forster printed a facsimile of the letter in his second volume.
Cruikshank was alive, and living within half an hour’s drive of Mr.
Forster’s library, when he put the case in this roundabout, and, I must
say, unwarrantably uncivil way. But let us see what this story was that
came from across the Atlantic in the columns of the _Round Table_. It
is Dr. Shelton Mackenzie who speaks.’ “In London I was intimate with
the brothers Cruikshank, Robert and George, but more particularly the
latter. Having called upon him one day at his house (it was then in
Myddelton Terrace, Pentonville), I had to wait while he was finishing an
etching, for which a printer’s boy was waiting. To while away the time,
I glady complied with his suggestion that I should look over a portfolio
crowded with etchings, proofs, and drawings, which lay upon the sofa.
Among these, carelessly tied together in a wrap of brown paper, was a
series of some twenty-five or thirty drawings, very carefully finished,
through most of which were carried the well-known portraits of Fagin,
Bill Sykes and his Dog, Nancy, the Artful Dodger, and Master Charles
Bates--all well known to the readers of “Oliver Twist.” There was no
mistake about it; and when Cruikshank turned round, his work finished,
I said as much. He told me that it had long been in his mind to show the
life of a London thief by a series of drawings engraved by himself,
in which, without a single line of letterpress, the story would be
strikingly and clearly told. ‘Dickens,’ he continued, ‘dropped in here
one day, just as you have done, and, whilst waiting until I could speak
with him, took up that identical portfolio, and ferreted out that bundle
of drawings. When he came to that one which represents Fagin in the
condemned cell, he studied it for half an hour, and told me that he was
tempted to change the whole plot of his story, not to carry Oliver Twist
through adventures in the country, but to take him up into the thieves’
den in London, show what their life was, and bring Oliver through it
without sin or shame. I consented to let him write up to as many of the
designs as he thought would suit his purpose, and that was the way in
which Fagin, Sikes, and Nancy were created. My drawings suggested them,
rather than individuality suggesting (sic) my drawings.’”
Mr. Forster adds,--“Since this was in type I have seen the Life of
Dickens published in America (Philadelphia: Peterson Brothers) by
Dr. Shelton Mackenzie, in which I regret to find this story literally
repeated. The only differences from it as here quoted are that 1847
is given as the date of the visit; that besides the ‘portraits’ named,
there are said to have been ‘many others who were not introduced;’ and
that the final words run thus: ‘My drawings suggested them, rather than
his strong individuality my drawings.’”
In 1872, George Cruikshank published his “Statement of Facts” on this
subject, and on his subsequent controversy with Mr. Harrison Ainsworth.
This is his final reply to Mr. Forster. I give it that the reader may
draw his own conclusions.
“A question has been asked _publicly_” says the artist, “and which, I
grant, is rather an important one in this case, and that is, _Why have
I not until lately claimed to be the originator of ]Oliver Twist’?_ To
this I reply, that ever since these works were published, and even when
they were in progress, I have in private society, when conversing upon
such matters, always explain that the _original ideas and characters_
of these _emanated from me_; and the reason why I publicly claimed to be
the originator of ‘Oliver Twist’ was to defend Dr. R. Shelton Mackenzie,
who was charged Mr. John Forster, in his ‘Life of Mr. Charles Dickens
with publishing a _falsehood_ * (or a word of ‘the letters,’ as he
describes it), whereas the Doctor was only repeating what I had told
him at the time ‘Oliver Twist’ was in progress. Mr. Forster designates
Mackenzie’s statement as ‘a wonderful story,’ or marvellous fable and
in a letter from the Doctor in the _Philadelphia Press_, December
19th, 1871, he says, the _wonderful story was printed in an American
periodical years before Mr. Dickens died_;’ and then asks, did not Mr.
Forster inquire into this matter at the time for surely he must have
known it.’ And I presume Mr. Dickens must have heard of this ‘wonderful
story the truth of which he _did not deny--for this reason because he
could not_. And with respect to Mr. Ainsworth’s insinuation as to my
‘labouring under a delusion’ upon this point, as all my literary friends
at that time knew that I was the originator of ‘Oliver Twist,’ and as
Mr. Ainsworth and I were at that time upon such intimate terms, and both
working together on _Bentleys Miscellany_, is it at all likely that I
should have concealed such a fact from him? No, no! he knew this as well
as I did, and therefore, in this matter at any rate, it is _he_ who
is ‘labouring under a delusion.’ And I will here refer to a part of my
letter, which was published in the _Times_, December 30th, 1871, upon
the origin of ‘Oliver Twist,’ wherein I state that Mr. Ainsworth and
Mr. Dickens came together one day to my house, upon which occasion it so
happened that I then and there _described and performed_ the character
of ‘Fagin,’ for Mr. Dickens to introduce into the work as a ‘receiver of
stolen goods,’ and that some time after this, upon seeing Mr. Ainsworth
again, he said to me, ‘I was so much struck with your description of
that Jew to Mr. Dickens, that I think you and I could do something
together.’ Now I do not know whether Mr. Ainsworth has ever made any
allusion to this,--perhaps he _disdains_ to do so,--but perhaps he may
give this also a ‘positive contradiction,’ and if he does, then all I
have to say is, that his memory is gone.”
* Mr. Forster, in a side-note, puts it thus: “Falsity
ascribed to a distinguished artist.”
This controversy, and a subsequent one, arose from Cruikshank’s habit of
exaggeration in all things.
One day, at an engraver’s, seeing a drawing of animated pumps (probably
one of the series by his brother Robert) upon the table, he shouted, “My
pumps!” seized the drawing, made for the door, and was with difficulty
persuaded to give it up.
In his eagerness he had a habit of over-estimating the effect of his
work, as well as his share in any enterprise in which he had a part.
Thus _he_ put down hanging for minor offences; _he_ suppressed fairs,
because he exposed the coarseness and vice of Bartholomew Fair;* and so
in his later day he was ready, and with thorough conscientiousness, to
attribute nearly all the advance of the temperance cause in society to
his “Bottle,” “Drunkard’s Children,” and “Triumph of Bacchus.” It was
this belief in himself that carried him forward, and kept him alert and
vigorous in the cause long after he had completed his threescore years
and ten. But it led him into injudicious statements, or over-statements,
of which those in regard to his share in “Oliver Twist” was certainly
the most unfortunate. His pretensions that he supplied not only subjects
for his own plates, but skeletons of chapters to Dickens and Ainsworth,
might be disposed of by fifty collateral testimonies to the contrary.
* In a note to the catalogue of his works, exhibited in the
Aquarium, London, Cruikshank put this note: “Bartholomew
Fair, held formerly in Smithfield, used to be opened by the
Lord Mayor of London, in his coach and six. In ancient times
this fair might have been a very decent affair; but as the
metropolis increased in size, the number of thieves and low
characters increased also, so that at length this fair, in
the evening part, became a scene of ruffianism. I had a peep
at it on one or two occasions, and then published this
‘Fiend’s Frying Pan,’ dedicating it to the Lord Mayor,
aldermen, etc., who, after a few years began to look at the
fair in the same light as myself, and at last put an end to
that which was a disgrace to the city.” Yet in his
illustrations to the ‘Sketches by Boz,’ he drew all the
humours of a dancing booth at Greenwich Fair, with riotous
men in dancing bonnets, and women equally dissipated,
“footing it” in men’s hats. Neither in the article nor the
drawing is there any moralising.
Writing to Forster (January 1838), Dickens says, alluding to the
severity of his labours, “I have not done the ‘Young Gentlemen,’ nor
written the preface to ‘Grimaldi,’ nor thought of ‘Oliver Twist,’ or
_even supplied a subject for the plate_.”
According to Mr. Ainsworth, Dickens was even so worried by Cruikshank
putting forward suggestions that he resolved to send him only printed
proofs for illustration.
Cuthbert Bede says, having been informed, of course, by the artist,
“It is well known that Cruikshank originated the ‘Life in London.’” But
this, as the reader will perceive, is a gross error. To the conception
of this work, at any rate, the artist made no claim in Egan’s time, nor,
it should be remembered, was he even the sole illustrator. He shared the
honours with his brother. Besides, the three heroes bear unmistakable
marks of the Egan parentage throughout.
Perhaps the wildest claim Cruikshank ever entered to an idea was that
of having originated the pattern of a military hat worn by the Russian
soldiers. Having described his own model, he adds: “The Russian
soldiers, I find, wear a hat something of this shape _now_; and no doubt
they saw my pattern, and stole my idea.” *
* “A Popgun fired off by George Cruikshank.” W. Kent and Co.
In “the corrections made in the later editions of the first volume”
of his “Life of Dickens,” and published in the second volume (October
1872), Mr. Forster notices Cruikshank’s assumption of the responsibility
of Dr. Mackenzie’s statement, and remarks, “The worst part of the
foregoing fable, therefore, has not Dr. Mackenzie for its author; and
Mr. Cruikshank is to be congratulated on the prudence of his rigid
silence respecting it as long as Mr. Dickens lived.”
Suppose Cruikshank suggested to Dickens that his subject should be a
poor boy thrown upon the skirts of London. It is but the motive,
the theme. In all the range of Dickens’s work, there is nothing more
essentially his own than “Oliver Twist,” from the name of the hero to
the last line of the final chapter. Something like the following scene,
which Cuthbert Bede describes, may have taken place between Dickens
and Cruikshank. From the bare suggestion that there should be an “awful
Jew”--receiver of stolen goods, a Hebrew Blueskin--in the story, to the
conception and embodiment of Fagin, there is an immeasurable distance. *
* As well might Sir David Wilkie have claimed the authorship
of Douglas Jerrold’s drama, “The Rent Day,” because the idea
was suggested to the dramatist by the great Scotch painter’s
pictures. But Sir David only thanked Douglas Jerrold, and
sent him proofs of his “Distraining for Rent” and “The Rent
Day,” with expressions of his acknowledgments inscribed upon
them.
“I was speaking of my first interview with him at his house, Mornington
Crescent, Regent’s Park,” says Cuthbert Bede. “He wished me to write
a humorous story of modern life, to be illustrated by himself, with a
series of designs, something after the style of his ‘Adventures of Mr.
Lambkin; or, The Bachelor’s own Book,’ and he jotted down some rough
memoranda and sketches (in pencil) embodying his own ideas on the
subject. One of these slight drawings was singularly skilful. It
represented the shoulders and the tops of the heads of people in the pit
of a theatre, as they would appear to a spectator in the gallery--the
foreshortening being both curious and difficult. As a matter of course,
I gave my best consideration to Mr. Cruikshank’s suggestions and ideas,
but submitted to him that I could not see my way to carry them out to
our mutual satisfaction; and I also raised objections to the somewhat
hackneyed nature of the themes that he suggested, and stated my
preference for writing a story that should be wholly and entirely my own
original composition. After much discussion pro and con, Mr. Cruikshank
yielded to my wishes, and said, ‘Then the tale shall be entirely out
of your own head!’ While he spoke, he rapidly drew a fancy sketch of my
head, to the back portion of which was affixed a pig-tail, as large as
that worn by an old-fashioned Jack Tar. He held this sketch up to his
wife, who had just then re-entered the room, and said, in his cheery
way, ‘We have settled the point. He does not like my whiskers,’--the
hero of the tale, I may add, was to have been readily distinguished in
the illustrations by the peculiarity of his whiskers,--‘so he is going
to get a _tail_ out of his own head.’ It reminded me of his sketch of
the grenadier, whose pig-tail was tied so tightly that he was unable to
shut his eyes; also of another pig-tail sketch in the Omnibus, where the
gentleman who, has gone to bed ‘half-seas over’ wakes up to sobriety,
and, springing out of bed, discovers that his pig-tail has been tied
to the bell-rope, and that the house has been aroused through his vain
struggles to get free.”
“The Adventures of Mr. Lambkin” were entirely Cruikshank’s own, and they
were the least successful, and deservedly so, of his works.
Never has a single figure enacted by mortal artist been so talked and
written about as Fagin. * How and when he was conceived, where the
artist found his model, what share Dickens had, and what part belonged
to Cruikshank of “the awful Jew,” are points of controversy which have
been kept alive in society as much by Cruikshank’s own acting of his
idea, and his many accounts of his conception, as by the deep impression
made by that dreadful wretch glaring in the condemned cell. The writer
of the obituary notice of Cruikshank in the _Daily News_ himself heard
Cruikshank relate that Fagin was sketched from a rascally old Jew whom
he observed in the neighbourhood of Saffron Hill;” and, he added, “I
watched him for weeks, studying him.” Fagin possessed Cruikshank’s mind
to the end of his life. He was always ready to talk about him, and to
act him.
“Sitting down,” says Cuthbert Bede, describing one of his visits to the
artist in the Hampstead Road, “and crouching in the huddled posture of
‘the Jew--the dreadful Jew--that Cruikshank drew’--to quote Thackeray’s
words--fiercely gnawing at his finger-nails, tossing his hair loosely
about his head, and calling up a look of wild horror into his eyes, the
artist, with the great histrionic powers that he possessed, seemed to
have really transformed himself into the character of the Jew whom he
so forcibly depicted. His features somewhat helped him in this
impersonation, though those of Sir Charles Napier required no distortion
of art, but were so exceedingly like to those of Cruikshank’s Jew, that
he was popularly called in the army by the name of ‘Old Fagin.’”
Cruikshank told Horace Mayhew how he hit upon the figure of Fagin in the
condemned cell. He had been thinking it over many days, and could not
satisfy himself. “At length, beginning to think the task was almost
hopeless, he was sitting up in bed one morning, with his hand covering
his chin, and the tips of his fingers between his lips, the whole
attitude expressive of disappointment and despair, when he saw his face
in a cheval glass, which stood on the floor opposite to him. ‘That’s
it,’ he involuntarily exclaimed, ‘that’s just the expression I want!’
and by this accidental process the picture was formed in his mind.”
* Memories of my Time.” By George Hodder, author of
“Sketches of Life and Character.” Tinsley Brothers. 1870.
He was never tired of talking on the subject. Fagin possessed him, just
as Dickens lived in his characters, and made them talk in his letters
and speeches. Mr. Austin Dobson, who met Cruikshank at breakfast at Mr.
Frederick Lockers house on the 14th of December (1877), writes to me,
“He told us many particulars respecting his work, and especially his
visits to prisons and criminals in connection with ‘Oliver Twist.’
Finally, I asked him if the popular story of the conception of Fagin’s
wonderful attitude in the condemned cell was correct. He replied rather
energetically, ‘False!’ You will remember that in that version the
drawing was the result of accident. The artist was biting his nails in
desperation, when suddenly he caught the reflection of his perplexed
face in a cheval glass--hence Fagin. Cruikshank’s account was different.
He had never been perplexed in the matter, or had any doubt as to his
design. He attributed the story to the fact that not being satisfied
whether the knuckles should be raised or depressed, he had made studies
of his own hand in a glass, to the astonishment of a child-relative
looking on, who could not conceive what he was doing. He illustrated his
account by putting his hand to his mouth, looking, with his hooked nose,
wonderfully like the character he was speaking of,--so much so, that
for a few minutes afterwards Mr. Locker playfully addressed him as
‘Mr. Fagin.’ I did not see at the time why he was so tenacious. But, of
course, what he wished to impress upon us was that the drawing of Fagin
in the cell, which shares with Sikes attempting to destroy his dog
the post of honour in ‘Oliver Twist,’ was the result, not of a happy
accident, but his own persistent and minute habit of realization; and
though there appears to be a modern disposition to doubt that a man
can know anything about his own past, I for one shall always prefer Mr.
Cruikshank’s story to the others.”
There is, no doubt, truth in all these stories. Cruikshank studied often
in Petticoat Lane, to begin with, and probably fixed his model of Fagin
there. That he himself told Horace Mayhew, many years ago, how he caught
sight of his own image as he sat up in bed, and adopted it for Fagin in
the condemned cell, I know. And finally, that he studied his hands in
his glass, with that careful observation of details by which he reached
such intensity in the expression of an emotion, or a dramatic incident,
by all who knew him will be accepted as an ordinary illustration of his
“habit of realization.”
On Cruikshank’s illustrations to “Oliver Twist,” how many critics have
dwelt; and by them, how many writers have pointed their moral. Ruskin,
in his chapter on Vulgarity, * turns for his illustration to Landseer
and Cruikshank.
* “Modern Painters.”
“Cunning,” he remarks, “signifies especially a habit or gift of
over-reaching, accompanied with enjoyment and a sense of superiority. It
is associated with small and dull conceit, and with an absolute want of
sympathy or affection. Its essential connection with vulgarity may be
at once exemplified by the expression of the butcher’s dog in Landseer’s
‘Low Life.’ Cruikshank’s ‘Noah Claypole,’ in the illustrations to
‘Oliver Twist,’ in the interview with the Jew, is, however, still more
characteristic. It is the intensest rendering of vulgarity absolute and
utter with which I am acquainted.”
Mr. Paget, in his admirable article on Cruikshank’s genius, already
quoted, becomes eloquent on the prodigious effect upon his time which
the pictorial moralist achieved, and especially by his illustrations to
“Oliver Twist”:--
“More than forty years have passed since the appear-of these works;
* and if we were asked who, through that period, has been the most
faithful chronicler of the ways, customs, and habits of the middle and
lower classes of England, we should answer, George Cruikshank. In his
pictures of society there is no depth which he has not sounded. From the
murderer’s cell to the pauper’s deathbed there is no phase of crime and
misery which has not served him to point a moral. But his sympathies
are never perverted, or his sense of right and wrong dimmed by the
atmosphere in which he moves. He is a stern though kindly moralist. In
his hands vice is vice--a foe with whom no terms are to be kept. Yet,
with what true feeling, what consummate skill, does he discriminate
the shades of character, the ranks and degrees of crime, the extent and
limits of moral corruption! In none of his works is this so apparent as
in what we are inclined to rank as the most refined and complete of all,
namely, the illustrations to “Oliver Twist.” Charles Dickens and George
Cruikshank worked cordially hand in hand in the production of this
admirable work, and neither will grudge to the other his share in the
fame which has justly attended their joint labours. The characters are
not more skilfully developed, as the story unfolds itself, by the pen
of Dickens, than by the pencil of his colleague. Every time we turn over
this wonderful series, we are more and more impressed with the genius
that created, and the close observation of human nature which developed,
the characteristics of Oliver through every varying phase of his
career, from the memorable day when he ‘asked for more’;--of Sikes, the
housebreaker (compare his face in the frontispiece of the first column,
where he has just brought Oliver back to the Jew, with that at page
216 of the third volume, where he is attempting to destroy his dog); of
Fagin--from the ‘merry old gentleman’ frying sausages, to the ghastly
picture of abject terror which he presents in the condemned cell; of
Noah Claypole,--mark him as he lies cowering under the dresser in Mrs.
Sowerberry’s kitchen, with little Oliver standing triumphant over him
with flashing eye and dilated nostril, and again behold him lolling
in the armchair, whilst Charlotte feeds his gluttonous appetite with
oysters; of Charlotte herself; of Mrs. Corney; of the workhouse master;
the paupers; the boy-thieves; of Messrs. Blathers and Duff, the police
officers; and the immortal Mrs. Bumble--a character which has furnished
new terms to our vocabulary, and the glory of producing which may be
fairly divided between the author and the artist Nor is the portraiture
of Mrs. Bedwin, the housekeeper, who only appears once--but by
that single appearance makes us familiar with her whole history and
character--less admirably conceived and executed. The same may be said
of Mr. Brownlow and Mr. Los-borne. Nor is this perfection the result
of a lucky hit or happy accident, by which a far inferior artist may
sometimes succeed in producing what is acknowledged by the eye as the
impersonation of the impression produced on the mind by the art of
the novelist or the poet. It is the result of deep study and profound
sympathy, with all the varied action of the human heart. It is genius,
the twin-brother of that which inspired Garrick and Kean, and which, in
its rarest and most refined developments, brings before our eyes even
now new beauties latent in the characters of Hamlet and of Rosalind. We
say this in no spirit of exaggeration, but with a profound conviction
that no hand could have produced such works as those of George
Cruikshank, which was now the index of the organ of a heart deeply
imbued with the finest sympathies of humanity, and an intellect highly
endowed with power of the keenest perception and the subtlest analysis.”
* “The Queen’s Matrimonial Ladder,” etc.
Mr. Sala has described the “rough but superb” etchings to the “Sketches
by Boz,” which prepared the world for the finer and profounder work in
“Oliver Twist,” and he instances “The Streets--Morning”---an exquisite
bit of observation. But can anything surpass, as a picture of close and
various study of life, the “Parish Engine”--from the superb beadle at
the door, to the urchins rejoicing over the excitement? As pictures of
manners, dress, and the habits of the people some forty years ago, they
have the value of historical records. Those times live again, under our
wondering eyes, by the help of the artist’s genius; and none can
deny the immense value they are in helping the younger generation to
understand the fresh and racy humour of the text.
Mr. Sala very properly questions whether Cruikshank would have succeeded
even with “Pickwick.” “While,” he adds, “to illustrate such works as
‘Martin Chuzzlewit,’ and the later novels of Dickens, he would have
been manifestly out of place,” he might have “been in his element”
with “Nicholas Nickleby.” Thackeray, however, once pointed out that
Cruikshank would never have managed to draw Sir Mulberry Hawk’s
cabriolet horse. But he was never more at home than in his illustrations
to the life of his old Islington friend and boon companion, Joe
Grimaldi, which Dickens unwillingly consented to edit for Mr. Bentley.
[Illustration: 279]
Dickens put the manuscript in order, and strung it together--dictating
connecting bits to his father, whom Mr. Forster describes as revelling
in the work. John Dickens revelled in work as well as play; in a bowl
of gin punch, which it was his delight to mix at the Rainbow, in Fleet
Street, and over which I have heard him tell many a capital story, not
more than in his work as first manager of the Parliamentary staff of the
_Daily News_.
Dickens described the manuscript of the life of the celebrated clown as
twaddle, and was astonished at its success. “Seventeen hundred Grimaldis
have been already sold,” he wrote to Forster, “and the demand increases
daily!” Perhaps he did not rate at their full value George Cruikshank’s
etchings, which had a habit, in those days, of making “twaddle”
palatable to the public very often. Over Grimaldi, Dickens and
Cruikshank parted as author and artist; but they continued fast friends
for many years after.
[Illustration: 281]
[Illustration: 282]
“The dustman’s cart offends thy clothes and eyes,
When through the street a cloud of ashes flies.”
From “More Mornings at Bow Street.”