"COMIC HISTORY OF ROME."
The extreme difficulty--in some instances the impossibility--of
procuring copies of some of the books illustrated by Leech makes exact
chronological sequence impossible in any attempt to describe the career
of the artist. I hope to be pardoned, therefore, for the irregularity of
my dates.
In 1852 a "Comic History of Rome" appeared, written by Gilbert à
Beckett, with "ten coloured etchings and numerous woodcuts by Leech."
Rome fares pretty much the same as England at the hands of both writer
and illustrator. In Mr. À Beckett's part of the work the history of Rome
becomes a very comic history indeed, and Leech, of course, enters into
the spirit of the fun with all his exuberance of fancy and irresistible
humour. Visitors to the National Gallery, should they be curious to see
the difference of treatment of the same subject by different minds, can
be gratified by comparing Rubens' "Rape of the Sabines" with Leech's
rendering of that famous historical event.
In one particular the illustration of the scene is identical in both
pictures. Rubens dresses the ladies in the costume peculiar to his own
time; Leech in the time of Queen Victoria. In the great Fleming's work
the principal victim of the Roman youth is the wife of the painter, in
the dress of Rubens' day; in Leech's drawing, strange to say, we have an
excellent likeness of Mrs. Leech, as she sits complacently on the
shoulders of a Roman youth. Rubens, however, pays more attention to
truth in the habiliments of his ravishers, for if they, in all
probability, did not much resemble Roman soldiers in their habits as
they lived, they present a tolerable resemblance to the ancient Roman as
we know him. Whereas Leech--while preserving something like the form of
the upper part of the Roman costume--cannot be said to be correct when
he puts Hessian boots upon one man, hunting-tops upon another, and
consigns the nether portion of a third to the military trousers, boots
and spurs of the modern Life-Guardsman. Nobody, I think, will believe
that umbrellas were known to the Romans, as Leech would have us to
understand, by putting one as a weapon into the hands of the stout,
very modern woman belabouring the Roman who is carrying off her
daughter.
In explanation of the following cut, I may remind readers of Roman
history that Romulus sent cards of invitation to attend certain games to
the Latins and Sabines, with their wives and daughters.
"The weather being propitious," says Mr. À Beckett, "all the Sabine
beauty and fashion were attracted to the place, and the games,
consisting of horse-racing, gave to the scene all the animation of Ascot
on a Cup-day. Suddenly, at a preconcerted signal, there was a general
elopement of the Roman youth with the Sabine ladies, who were in the
most ungallant manner abandoned to their fate by the Sabine gentlemen.
It is true the latter were taken by surprise, but they certainly made
the best of their way home before they thought of avenging the wrong and
insult that had been committed. Had they been all married ladies who
were carried off, the cynic might have suggested that the Sabine
husbands would not have objected to a cheap mode of divorce; but--to
make use of an Irishism--there was only one single woman who happened to
be a wife in the whole of that goodly company."
[Illustration]
An Etruscan ruler named Porsenna had a difficulty with Rome. He speedily
besieged that city, frightening the people in the suburbs "out of their
wits and into the city, where he never enjoyed a moment's peace till
peace was concluded." Presently a treaty of peace was negotiated,
greatly to the advantage of Porsenna; for not only was Rome compelled to
restore the territory taken from the Veii, but the victor also "claimed
hostages, among whom were sundry young ladies of the principal Roman
families. One of these was named Clælia, who, with other maidens, having
resolved on a bold plunge for their liberty, jumped into the Tiber's
bed, and swam like a party of ducks to the other side of the river."
This delightful drawing reminds one of many a seaside sketch in
"Pictures of Life and Character," leaving us wondering how a few
pencil-lines can call up such visions of beauty.
Everyone knows of the tradition of Rome's being saved from the Gauls by
the cackling of geese, and my readers are here presented with Leech's
historical picture of the event.
[Illustration]
"The Gauls," says Mr. À Beckett, "crept up, one by one, to the top of
the rock, which was the summit of their wishes. Just as they had
effected their object, a wakeful goose commenced a vehement cackle, and
the solo of one old bird was soon followed by a chorus from a score of
others. Marcus Manlius, who resided near the poultry, was so alarmed at
the sound that he instantly jumped out of his skin--for in those days a
sheep-skin was the usual bedding--and ran to the spot, where he caught
hold of the first Gaul he came to, and, giving him a smart push, the
whole pack behind fell like so many cards to the bottom."