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THE
SEcOiND Funeral of Napoleon
BY
MICHAEL ANGELO TITMARSH.
CRITICAL REVIEWS
I5Y
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
NEW YORK:
JOHN W. LOVELI. COMPANY,
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,^,^
THE SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON,
ON THE DISINTERMENT OF NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA.
My Dear , — It is no easy task in this world to distinguish
between what is great in it, and what is mean ; and many and many is the puzzle tliat I have had in reading History (or the works of fiction which go by that name), to know whether I should laud up to the skies, and endeavor, to the best of my small capabilities, to imitate the remarkable character about whom I was reading, or whether I should fling aside the book and the hero of it, as things altogether base, unworthy, laugh- able, and get a novel, or a game of billiards, or a pipe of tobacco, or the report of the last debate in the House, or any other employment which would leave the mind in a state of easy vacuity, rather than pester it with a vain set of dates relating to actions which are in themselves not worth a fig, or with a parcel of names of people whom it can do one no earthly good to remember.
It is more than probable, my love, that you are acquainted with what is called Grecian and Roman history, chiefly from perusing, in very early youth, the little sheepskin-bound vol- umes of the ingenious Dr. Goldsmith, and have been indebted for your knowledge of our English annals to a subsequent study of the more voluminous works of Hume and Smollett. The first and the last-named authors, dear Miss Smith, have written each an admirable history, — that of the reverend Dr. Primrose, Vicar of Wakefield, and that of Mr. Robert Bramble, of Bramble
554 ^^^^ SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON.
Hall — in both of which w9rks you will find true and instructive pictures of human life, and which you may always think over with advantage. But let me caution you against putting any considerable trust in the other works of these authors, which were placed in your hands at school and afterwards, and in which you were taught to believe. Modern historians, for the most part, know very little, and, secondly, only tell a little of what they know.
As for those Greeks and Romans whom you have read of in "sheepskin," were you to know really what those monsters were, you would blush all over as red as a hollyhock, and put down the history-book in a fury. Many of our English worthies are no better. You are not in a situation to know the real characters of any one of them. They appear before you in their public capacities, but the individuals you know not. Suppose, for instance, your mamma had purchased her tea in the Borough from a grocer living there by the name of Greenacre : suppose you had been asked out to dinner, and the gentleman of the house had said ; " Ho ! Francois ! a glass of champagne for Miss Smith ; " — Courvoisier would have served you just as any other footman would : you w^ould never have known that there was anything extraordinary in these individuals, but would have thought of them only in their respective public characters of Grocer and Footman. This, Madam, is History, in which a man always appears dealing with the world in his apron, or his laced livery, but which has not the power or the leisure, or, perhaps, is too high and mighty to condescend to follow and study him in his privacy. Ah, my dear, when big and little men come to be measured rightly, and great and small actions to be weighed properly, and people to be stripped of their royal robes, beggars' rags, generals' uniforms, seedy out-at-elbowed coats, and the like — or the contrary say, when souls come to be stripped of their wicked deceiving bodies, and turned out stark naked as they were before they were born — what a strange startling sight shall we see, and what a pretty figure shall some of us cut ! Fancy how we shall see Pride, with his Stultz clothes and pad- ding pulled off, and dwindled down to a forked radish ! Fancy some Angelic virtue, whose white raiment is suddenly w^hisked over his head, showing us cloven feet and a tail ! Fancy Humil- ity, eased of its sad load of cares and want and scorn, walking up to the very highest place of all, and blushing as he takes it ! Fancy, — but we must not fancy such a scene at all, which would be an outrage on public decency. Should we be any better than our neighbors ? No, certainly. And as we can't be virtuous
THE SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON. 555.
let us be decent. Fig-leaves are a very decent, becoming wear, and have been now in fashion for four thousand years. And so, my dear, History is written on fig-leaves. Would you have anything further ? Oh fie !
' Yes, four thousand years ago, that famous tree was planted. At their very first lie, our first parents made for it, and there it is still the great Humbug Plant, stretching its wide arms, and shel- tering beneath its leaves, as broad and green as ever, all the generations of men. Thus, my dear, coquettes of your fascina- ting sex cover their persons with figgery, fastastically arranged, and call their masquerading, modesty. Cowards fig themselves out fiercely as " salvage men," and make us believe that they are warriors. Fools look very solemnly out from the dusk of the leaves, and we fancy in the gloom that they are sages. And many a man sets a great wreath about his pate and struts abroad a hero, whose claims we would all of us laugh at, could we but remove the ornament and see his numskull bare.
And such — ("excuse my sermonizing) — such is the constitution of mankind, that men have, as it were, entered into a compact among themselves to pursue the fig-leaf system^ routra?ice, and to cry down all who oppose it. Humbug they will have. ^ Hum- bugs themselves, they will respect humbugs. Their daily vict- uals of life must be seasoned with humbug. Certain things are there in the world that they will not allow to be called by their right names, and will insist upon our admiring, whether we will or no. Woe be to the man who would enter too far into the recesses of that magnificent temple where our Goddess is en- shrined, peep through the vast embroidered curtains indiscreetly, penetrate the secret of secrets, and expose the Gammon of Gam- mons ! And as you must not peer too curiously within, so nei- ther must you remain scornfully without. Humbug-worshippers, let us come into our great temple regularly and decently : take our seats, and settle our clothes decently ; open our books, and go through the service with decent gravity ; listen, and be decently affected by the expositions of the decent priest of the place ; and if by chance some straggling vagabond, loitering in the sun- shine out of doors, dares to laugh or to sing, and disturb the sanctified dulness of the faithful ; — quick ! a couple of big beadles rush out and belabor the wretch, and his yells make our devo- tions more comfortable.
Some magnificent religious ceremonies of this nature are at present taking place in France ; and thinking that you might perhaps while away some long winter evening with an account of them, I have compiled the following pages for your use.
c^6 77-^-^ SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON,
Newspapefs have been fiTlecl, for some days past, with details regarding the Saint Helena expedition, many pamphlets have been published, men go about crying little books and broad- sheets filled with real or sham particulars ; and from these scarce and valuable documents the following pages are chiefly compiled.
We must begin at the beginning ; premising, in the first place, that Monsieur Guizot, when French Ambassador at London, waited upon Lord Palmerston with a request that the body of the Emperor Napoleon should be given up to the French nation, in order that it might find a final resting-place in French earth. To this demand the English Goyerninent gave a ready assent ; nor was there any particular explosion of sentiment upon either side, only some pretty cordial expressions of mutual good-will. Orders were sent out to St. Helena that the corpse should be disinterred in due time, when the French expedition had arrived in search of it, and that every respect and attention should be paid to those who came to carry back to their country the body of the famous dead warrior and sovereign.
This matter being arranged in very few words (as in England, upon most points, is the laudable fashion), the French Cham- bers began to debate about the place in which they should bury the body when they got it ; and numberless pamphlets and newspapers out of doors joined in the talk. Some people there were who had fought and conquered and been beaten with the great Napoleon, and loved him and his memory. Many more were there who, because of his great genius and valor, felt exces- sively proud in their own particular persons, and clamored for the return of their hero. And if there were some few indi- viduals in this great hot-headed, gallant, boasting, sublime, absurd French nation, who had taken a cool view of the dead Emperor's character ; if, perhaps, such men as Louis Philippe, and Mon- sieur A. Thiers, Minister and Deputy, and Monsieur Francois Guizot, Deputy and Excellency, had, from interest or conviction, opinions at all differing from those of the majority ; why, they knew what was what, and kept their opinions to themselves, coming with a tolerably good grace and flinging a few handfuls of incense upon the altar of the popular idol.
In the succeeding debates, then, various opinions were given with regard to the place to be selected for the Emperor's sepul- ture. " Some demanded," says an eloquent anonymous Captain in the Navy who has written an " Itinerary from Toulon to St. Helena," " that the coffin should be deposited under the bronze taken from the enemy by the French army — under the Column of the Place Vendome. The idea was a fine one. This is the
THE SECOMD FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON. ^^7
most glorious monument that was ever raised in a conqueror's honor. This column has been melted out of foreign cannon. These same cannons have furrowed the bosoms of our braves with noble cicatrices ; and this metal — conquered by the soldier first, by the artist afterwards — has allowed to be im- printed on its front its own defeat and our glory. Napoleon might sleep in peace under this audacious trophy. But would his ashes find a shelter sufficiently vast beneath this pedestal ? And his puissant statue dominating Paris, beams with sufficient grandeur on this place : whereas the wheels of carriages and the feet of passengers would profane the funereal sanctity of the spot in trampling on the soil so near his head,"
You must not take this description, dearest Amelia, " at the foot of the letter," as the French phrase it, but you will here have a masterly exposition of the arguments for and against the burial of the Emperor under the column of the Place Ven- dome. The idea was a fine one, granted ; but, like all other ideas, it was open to objections. You must not fancy that the cannon, or rather the cannon-balls, were in the habit of furrow- ing the bosoms of French braves, or any other braves, with cicatrices : on the contrary, it is a known fact that cannon-balls make wounds, and not cicatrices (which, my dear, are w^ounds partially healed) ; nay, that a man generally dies after receiving one such projectile on his chest, much more after having his bosom farrowed by a score of them. No, my love ; no bosom, however heroic, can stand such applications, and the author only means that the French soldiers faced the cannon and took them. Nor, my love, must you suppose that the column was melted : it was the cannon was melted, not the column ; but such phrases are often used by orators when they wish to give a par- ticular force and emphasis to their opinions.
Well, again, although Napoleon might have slept in peace under " this audacious trophy," how could he do so and car- ages go rattling by all night, and people with great iron heels to their boots pass clattering over the stones ? Nor indeed could it be expected that a man whose reputation stretches from the Pyramids to the Kremlin, should find a column of which the base is only five-and-twenty feet square, a shelter vast enough for his bones. In a word, then, although the proposal to bury Napoleon under the column was ingenious, it was found not to suit ; whereupon somebody else proposed the Madelaine.
" It was proposed," says the before-quoted author with his usual felicity, " to consecrate the Madelaine to his exiled manes "
558 THE SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON.
— that is,* to his bones wffen they were not in exile any longer. '' He ought to have, it was said, a temple entire. His glory fills the world. His bones could not contain themselves in the coffin of a man — in the tomb of a king ! " In this case what was Mary Magdalen to do ? " This proposition, I am happy to say, was rejected, and a new one — that of the President of the Council — adopted. Napoleon and his braves ought not to quit each other. Under the immense gilded dome of the Invalides he would find a sanctuary worthy ot himself. A dome imitates the vault of heaven, and that vault alone " (meaning of course the other vault) " should dominate above his head. His old mutilated Guard shall watch around him : the last veteran, as he has shed his blood in his combats, shall breathe his last sigh near his tomb, and all these tombs shall sleep under the tattered standards that have been won from all the nations of Europe."
The original words are " sous les lambeaux crible's des dra- peaux cueillis chez toutes les nations ;" in English, " under the riddled rags of the flags that have been culled or plucked " (like roses or buttercups) " in all the nations." Sweet, innocent flowers of victory ! there they are, my dear, sure enough, and a pretty considerable hortus sirens may any man examine who chooses to walk to the Invalides. The burial-place being thus agreed on, the expedition was prepared, and on the 7th July the " Belle Poule " frigate, in company with " La Favorite " corvette, quitted Toulon harbor. A couple of steamers, the " Trident " and the " Ocean," escorted the ships as far as Gibral- tar, and there left them to pursue their voyage.
The two ships quitted the harbor in the sight of a vast coi> course of people, and in the midst of a great roaring of cannons. Previous to the departure of the " Belle Poule," the Bishop of Frejus went on board, and gave to the cenotaph, in which the Emperor's remains were to be deposited, his episcopal benedic- tion. Napoleon's old friends and followers, the two Bertrands, Gourgaud, Emanuel Las Cases, " companions in exile, or sons of the companions in exile of the prisoner of the infame Hudson," says a French writer, were passengers on board the frigate. Marchand, Denis, Pierret, Novaret, his old and faith- ful servants, were likewise in the vessel. It was commanded by his Royal Highness Francis Ferdinand Philip Louis Marie d'Orleans, Prince de Joinville, a young prince two-and-twenty years of age, who was already distinguished in the ser\dce of his country and king.
On the 8th of October, after a voyage of six-and-sixty days, the '' Belle Poule " arrived in James Town, harbor ; and on its
7^}TE SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON
559
arrival, as on its departure from France, a great firing of guns took place. First, the " Oreste " French brig-of-war began roar- ing out a salutation to the frigate ; then the " Dolphin " English schooner gave her one-and-twenty guns ; then the frigate returned the compliment of the " Dolphin " schooner ; then she blazed out one-and-twenty guns more, as a mark of particular politeness to the shore — which kindness the forts acknowledged by similar detonations.
These little compliments concluded on both sides. Lieutenant Middlemore, son and aide-de-camp of the Governor of St. Helena, came on board the French frigate, and brought his father's best respects to his Royal Highness. The Governor was at home ill, and forced to keep his room ; but he had made his house at James Town ready for Captain Joinville and his suite, and begged that they would make use of it during their stay.
On the 9th, H. R. H. the Prince of Joinville put on his full uniform and landed, in company with Generals Bertrand and Gourgaud, Baron Las Cases, M. Marchand, M. Coquereau, the chaplain of the expedition, and M. de Rohan Chabot, who acted as chief mourner. All the garrison were under arms to receive the illustrious Prince and the other members of the expedition — who forthwith repaired to Plantation House, and had a con- ference with the Governor regarding their mission.
On the loth, nth, 12th, these conferences continued : the crews of the French ships were permitted to come on shore and see the tomb of Napoleon. Bertrand, Gourgaud, Las Cases wandered about the island and visited the spots to which they had been partial in the lifetime of the Emperor.
The 15th October was fixed on for the day of the exhumation : that day five-and-twenty years, the Emperor Napoleon first set his foot upon the island.
On the day previous all things had been made ready : the grand coffins and ornaments brought from France, and the ar- ticles necessary for the operation were carried to the valley of the Tomb.
The operations commenced at midnight. The well-known friends of Napoleon before named and some other attendants of his, the chaplain and his acolytes, the doctor of the " Belle Poule," the captains of the French ships, and Captain Alexander of the Engineers, the English Commissioner, attended the dis- interment. His Royal Highness Prince de Joinville could not be present because the workmen were under English command.
The men worked for nine hours incessantly, when at length
560 THE SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON
the earth' was entirely removed from the vault, all the horizontal strata of masonry demolished, and the large slab which covered the place where the stone sarcophagus lay, removed by a crane. This outer coffin of stone was perfect, and could scarcely be said to be damp.
" As soon as the Abbe' Coquereau had recited the prayers, the coffin was removed with the greatest care, and carried by the engineer-soldiers, bareheaded, into a tent that had been prepared for the purpose. After the religious ceremonies, the inner coffins were opened. The outermost coffin was slightly injured : then came one of lead^ whica was in good condition, and enclosed two others — one of tin and one of wood. The last coffin was lined inside with white satin, which having become detached by the effect of time, had fallen upon the body and enveloped it like a winding-sheet, and had become slightly attached to it.
" It is difficult to describe with what anxiety and emotion those who were present waited for the moment which v»'as to expose to them all that death had left of Napoleon. Notwith- standing the singular state of preservation of the tomb and coffins, we could scarcely hope to find anything but some misshapen remains of the least perishable part of the costume to evidence the identity of the body. But when Doctor Guillard raised the sheet of satin, an indescribable feeling of surprise and affection was expressed by the spectators, many of whom burst into tears. The Emperor was himself before their eyes ! The features of the face, though changed, were perfectly recog- nized ; the hands extremely beautiful ; his well-known costume had suffered but little, and the colors were easily distinguished. The attitude itself was full of ease, and but for the fragments of the satin lining which covered, as with a fine gauze, several parts of the uniform, we might have believed we still saw Napoleon before us lying on his bed of state. General Bertrand and M. Marchand, who were both present at the interment, quickly pointed out the different articles which each had de- posited in the coffin, and remained in the precise position in which they had previously described them to be.
'' The two inner coffins were carefully closed again ; the old leaden coffin was strongly blocked up with wedges of wood, and both were once more soldered up with the most minute precau- tions, under the direction of Dr. Guillard. These different op- erations being terminated, the ebony sarcophagus was closed as well as its oak case. On delivering the key of the ebony sarcophagus to Count de Chabot, the King's Commissioner,
THE SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON. 561
Captain Alexander declared to him, in the name of the Governor^ that this coffin, containing the mortal remains of the Emperor Napoleon, was considered as at the disposal of the French Government from that day, and from the moment at which it should arrive at the place of embarkation, towards which it v;as about to be sent under the orders of General Middlemore. The King's Commissioner replied that he was charged by his Government, and in its name, to accept the coffin from the hands of the British authorities, and that he and the other persons composing the French mission were ready to follov/ it to James Town, where the Prince de Joinville, superior comman- dant of the expedition, would be ready to receive it and conduct it on board his frigate. A car drawn by four horses, decked with funereal emblems, had been prepared before the arrival of the expedition, to receive the coffin, as well as a pall, and all the other suitable trappings of mourning. When the sarcoph- agus was placed on the car, the whole was covered with a magnificent imperial mantle brought from Paris, the four corners of which were borne by Generals Bertrand and Gourgaud, Baron Las Cases and M. Marchand. At half-past three o'clock the funeral car began to move, preceded by a chorister bearing the cross, and the Abbe Coquereau. M. de Chabot acted as chief mourner. All the authorities of the island, all the principal inhabitants, and the whole of the garrison, followed in proces- sion from the tomb to the quay. But with the exception of the artillerymen necessary to lead tlie horses,and occasionally support the car when descending some steep j^arts of the way, the places nearest the coffin were reserved for the French mission. Gen- eral Middlemore, p.lthough in a weak state of health, persisted in following the whole way on foot, together with General Churchill, chief of the staff in India, who had arriv^ed only two days before from Bombay. The immense v/eight of the coffins, and the unevenness of the road, rendered the utmost carefulness necessary throughout the whole distance. Colonel Trelawney commanded in person the small detachment of artillerymen who conducted the car, and, thanks to his great care, not the slightest accident took place. From the moment of the departure to the arrival at the quay, the cannons of the forts and the ' Belle Poule ' fired minute-guns. After an hour's march the rain ceased for the first time since the commencement of the operations, and on arriving in sight of the town we found a brilliant sky and beau- tiful weather. Fronj the morning the three French vessels of war had assumed the usual signs of deep mourning : their yards crossed and their flags lowered. Two French merchantmen.
36
562
THE SECOND FUXERAL OF NAPOLEOW
' Bonne Amie ' and ' Indian,' which had been in the roads for two days, had' put themselves under the Prince's orders, and followed during the ceremony all the manoeuvres of the ' Belle Poule.' The forts of the town, and the houses of the consuls, had also their flags half-mast high.
" On arriving at the entrance of the town, the troops of the garrison and the militia formed in two lines as far as the extrem- ity of the quay. -According to the order for mourning pre- scribed for the English army, the men had their arms reversed and the officers had crape on their arms, with their swords re- versed. All the inhabitants had be.en kept away from the line of march, but they lined the terraced commanding the town, and the streets were occupied only by the troops, the 91st Regiment being on the right and the militia on the left. The cortege advanced slowly between two ranks of soldiers to the sound of a funeral march, while the cannons of the forts were fired, as well as those of the ' Belle Poule ' and the ' Dolphin ; ' the echoes being repeated a thousand times by the rocks above James Town. After two hours' march the corte'ge stopped at the end of the quay, where the Prince de Joinville had stationed himself at the head of the officers of the three French ships of war. The greatest official honors had been rendered by the English authorities to the memory of the Emperor — the most striking testimonials of respect had marked the adieu given by St. Helena to his coffin ; and from this moment the mortal remains of the Emperor were about to belong to France. When the funeral-car stopped, the Prince de Joinville advanced alone, and in presence of all around, who stood with their heads uncovered, received, in a solemn manner, the imperial coffin from the hands of General Middlemore. His Royal Highness then thanked the Governor, in the name of France, for all the testimonials of sympathy and respect with which the authorities and inhabitants of St. Helena had surrounded the memorable ceremonial. A cutter had been expressly prepared to receive the coffin. During the embarkation, which the Prince directed himself, the bands played funeral airs, and all the boats were stationed round with their oars shipped. The moment the sarcophagus touched the cutter, a magnificent royal flag, which the ladies of James Town had embroidered for the occasion, was unfurled, and the ' Belle Poule ' immediately squared her masts and unfurled her colors. All the manoeuvres of the frigate were immediately followed by the other vessels. Our mourning had ceased with the exile of Napoleon, and the French naval division dressed itself out in all its festal ornaments to receive the imperial coffin under the French flag. The sarcophagus was covered in the cutter with
THE SECOND EUNERAL OE NAPOLEON. 563
the imperial mantle. The Prince de Joinville placed himself at the rudder, Commandant Guyet at the head of the boat ; Gen- erals Bertrand and Gourgaud, Baron Las Cases, M. Marchand, and the Abbe Coquereau occupied the same places rs during the march. Count Chabot and Commandant Hernotrx were astern, a little in advance of the Prince. As soon as the. cutter had pushed off from the quay, the batteries ashore fired a salute of twenty- one guns, and our ships returned the salute with all their artillery. Two other salutes were fired during the passage from the quay to the frigate ; the cutter advancing very slowly, and surrounded by the other boats. At half-past six o'clock it reached the ' Belle Poule,' all the men being on the yards with their hats in their hands. The Prince had had arranged on the deck a chapel, decked with flags and trophies of arms, the altar being placed at the foot of the mizenmast. The coffin, carried by our sailors, passed between two ranks of officers with drawn swords, and was placed on the quarter-deck. The absolution was pronounced by the Abbe Coquereau the saiiie evening. Next day, at ten o'clock, a solemn mass was celebrated on the deck, in presence of the officers and part of the crews of the ships. His Royal Highness stood at the foot of the coffin. The cannon of the ' Favorite ' and ' Oreste ' fired minute-guns during this ceremony, which terminated by a solemn absolution ; and the Prince de Joinville, the gentlemen of the mission, the officers, and \.\-\q. preinkrs viaitres of the ship, sprinkled holy water on tlie coffin. /\t eleven, all the ceremonies of the church were accon plished, all i\^ honors done to a sovereign had been paid to the morial remains of Napoleon. The coffin was carefully lowered between decks, and placed in the chapdlc ardenfe which had been prepared at Toulon for its reception. At this moment, the vessels iired a last salute with all their artillery, and the frigate took in her flags, keeping up only her flag at the stern and the royal standard at the maintopgallant-mast. On Sunday, the i8th, at eight in the morning, the 'Belle Poule' quitted S't. Helena with her precious deposit on board.
" During the whole time that the mission remained at James Town, the best understanding never ceased to exist between the population of the island and the French. The Prince de Joinville and his companions met in all quarters and at all times with the greatest good-will and the warmest testimonials of sympathy. The authorities and the inhabitants must have felt, no doubt, great regret at seeing taken away from their island the coffin that had rendered it so celebrated ; but they repressed their feelings with a courtesy that does honor to the frankness ni their character."
564 THE SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON.
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11. ON THE VOYAGE FROM ST. HELENA TO PARIS.
On the i8th October the French frigate quitted the island with its precious burden on board.
His Royal Highness the Captain acknowledged cordially the kindness and attention which he and his crew had received from the English authorities and the inhabitants of the Island of St. Helena ; nay, promised a pension to an old soldier who had been for many years the guardian of the imperial tomb, and went so far as to take into consideration the petition of a certain lodging- house keeper, who prayed for a compensation for the loss which the removal of the Emperor's body would occasion to her. And although it was not to be expected that the great French nation should forego its natural desire of recovering the remains of a hero so dear to it for the sake of the individual interest of the landlady in question, it must have been satisfactory to her to find that the peculiarity of her position was so delicately appreci- ated by the august Prince who commanded the expedition, and carried away with him anwice. dwiidiwn suce — the half of the genteel independence which she derived from the situation of her hotel. In a word, politeness and friendship could not be carried farther. The Prince's realm and the landlady's were bound together by the closest ties of amity. M. Thiers was Minister of France, the great patron of the English alliance. At London M. Guizot was the worthy representative of the French good-will towards the British people : and the remark frequently made by our orators at public dinners, that " France and England, while united, might defy the world," was con- sidered as likely to hold good for many years to come, — the union that is. As for defying the world, that was neither here nor there ; nor did English politicians ever dream of doing any such thing, except perhaps at the tenth glass of port at " Free- mason's Tavern."
Little, however, did Mrs. Corbett, the Saint Helena landlady, little did his Royal Highness Prince Ferdinand Philip Marie de Joinville know what was going on in Europe all this time (when I say in Europe, I mean in Turkey, Syria, and Egypt) ; how clouds, in fact, were gathering upon what you call the political horizon ; and how tempests were rising that were to blow to
IH±L :>£,LUI\U t'UiyiLKAJL UI' IV Al^UjLiLUJS.
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pieces our Anglo-Gallic temple of friendship. Oh, but it is sad CO think that a single wicked old Turk should be the means of setting our two Christian nations by the ears !
Yes, my love, this disreputable old man had been for some time past the object of the disinterested attention of the great sovereigns of Europe. The Emperor Nicholas (a moral charac- ter, though following the Greek superstition, and adored for his mildness and benevolence of disposition), the Emperor Fer- dinand, the King of Prussia, and our own gracious Queen, had taken such just offence at his conduct and disobedience tow- ards a young and interesting sovereign, whose authority he had disregarded, whose fleet he had kidnapped, whose fair provinces he had pounced upon, that they determined to come to the aid of Abdul Medjid the First, Emperor of the Turks, and bring his rebellious vassal to reason. In this project the French nation was invited to join ; but they refused the invitation, saying, that it was necessary for the maintenance of the balance of power in Europe that his Highness Mehemet Ali should keep posses- sion of what by hook or by crook he had gotten, and that they would have no hand in injuring him. But why continue this argument, which you have read in the newspapers for many months past ? You, my dear, must know as well as I, that the balance of Power in Europe could not possibly be maintained in any such way ; and though, to be sure, for the last fifteen years, the progress of the old robber has not made much dif- ference to us in the neighborhood of Russell Square, and the battle of Nezib did not in the least affect our taxes, our homes, our institutions, or the price of butcher's meat, yet there is no knowing what might have happened had Mehemet Ali been allowed to remain quietly as he was : and the balance of power in Europe might have been — the deuce knows where.
Here, then, in a nutshell, you have the whole matter in dis- pute. While Mrs. Corbett and the Prince de Joinville were in- nocently interchanging compliments at Saint Helena, — bang ! bang ! Commodore Napier was pouring broadsides into Tyre and Sidon ; our gallant navy was storming breaches and rout- ing armies ; Colonel Hodges had seized upon the green stand- ard of Ibrahim Pacha ; and the powder-magazine of St. John of Acre was blown up sky-high, with eighteen hundred Egyptian soldiers in company with it. The French said that I'or Anglais had achieved all these successes, and no doubt believed that the poor fellows at Acre were bribed to a man.
It must have been particularly unpleasant to a high-minded nation like the French — at the very moment when the Egyptiaij
5 66 THE SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON.
affair and the balance of *^urope had been settled in this abrupt way — to tind out all of a sudden that the Pasha of Egypt was their dearest friend and ally. They had suffered in the person of their friend ; and though, seeing that the dispute was ended, and the territory out of his hand, they could not hope to get it back for him, or to aid him ni any substantial way, yet Monsieur Thiers determined, just as a mark of politeness to the Pasha, to fight all Europe for maltreating him, — all Europe, England m- cluded. He was bent on war, and an immense majority of the nation went with him. He called for a million of soldiers, and would have had them too, had* not the King been against the project and delayed the completion of it at least for a time.
Of these great European disputes Captain Joinville received a notification while he was at sea on board his frigate ; as we find by the official account which has been published of his mission.
" Some days after quitting Saint Helena," says that docu- ment, " the expedition fell in with a ship coming from Europe, and was thus made acquainted with the warlike rumors then afloat, by which a collision with the English marine was ren- dered possible. The Prince de Joinville immediately assembled the officers of the ' Belle Poule,' to deliberate on an event so unexpected and important.
" The council of war having expressed its opinion that it was necessary at all events to prepare for an energetic defence, preparations were made to place in battery all the guns that the frigate could bring to bear against the enemy. The provisional, cabins that had been fitted up in the battery w^ere demolished, the partitions removed, and, with all the elegant furniture of the cabins, flung into the sea. The Prince de Joinville was the first 'to execute himself,' and the frigate soon found itself armed with six or eight more guns.
'' That part of the ship where these cabins had previously been, went by the name of Lacedjemon ; everything luxurious being banished to make way for what was useful.
'' Indeed, all persons who were on board agree in saying that Monseigneur the Prince de Joinville most worthily acquitted himself of the great and honorable mission which had been confided to him. All affirm not only that the commandant of the expedition did everything at St. Helena which as a French- man he was bound to do in order that the remains of the Em- peror should receive all the honors due to them, but moreover that he accomplished his mission with all the measured solemn- ity, all the pious and severe dignity, that the son of the Emperor
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himself would have shown upon a like occasion. The comman- dant had also comprehended that the remains of the Emperor must never fall into the hands of the stranger, and being him- self decided rather to sink his ship than to give up his precious deposit, he had inspired every one about him with the same energetic resolution that he had himself taken ' against aji extremt eventuality.' "
M on seigneur, my dear, is really one of the finest young fellows it is possible to see. A tall, broad-chested, slim-waisted, brown-faced, dark-eyed young prince, with a great beard (and other martial qualities no doubt) beyond his years. As he strode into the Chapel of the Invalides on Tuesday at the head of his men, he made no small impression, I can tell you, upon the ladies assembled to witness the ceremony. Nor are the crew of the "Belle Poule" less agreeable to look at than their commander. A more clean, smart, active, well-limbed set of lads never " did dance" upon the deck of the famed " Belle Poule" i;i the days of her memorable combat with the '' Saucy Arethusa." " These five hundred sailors," says a French newspaper, speaking of them in the proper French way, " sword in hand, in the severe costume of board-ship {la severe tenue du bonl), seemed proud of the mission that they had just accomplished. Their blue jackets, their red cravats, the turned-down collars of blue shirts edged with white, above all their resolute appearance and mar- tial air. gave a favorable specimen of the present state of our marine — a marine of which so much might be expected and from which so little has been required." — Le Commerce . i6th December.
There they were, sure enough ; a cutlass upon one hip, a pistol on the other — a gallant set of young men indeed. I doubt, to be sure, whether \\\q serh-e tenue du Z-.^;?/ requires that the seaman should be always furnished with these ferocious weapons, which in sundry maritime manoeuvres, such as going to sleep in your hammock for instance, or twinkling a binnacle, or lufiing a marlinspike, or keelhauling a maintopgallant (all naval operations, my dear, which any seafaring novelist will explain to you) — I doubt, I say, whether these weapons are always worn by sailors, and have heard that they are commonly, and very sensibly too, locked up until they are wanted. Take another example : suppose artillerymen were incessantly com- pelled to walk about with a pyramid of twenty-four-pound shot in one pocket, a lighted fuse and a few barrels of gunpowder in the other — these objects would, as you may imagine, greatly inconvenience the artilleryman in his peaceful state.
r65 THE SECOND FUNERAL OI^ NAEULEUN.
The newspsiper writer is therefore most likely mistaken in saying that the seamen were in the severe tenue du bord, or by '' bord^' m^hx{\wg'' abordage' — which operation they were not, in a harmless church, hung round with velvet and wax-candles, and filled with ladies, surely called upon to perform. Nor indeed can it be reasonably supposed that the picked men of the crack frigate of the French navy are a "good specimen "of the rest of the French marine, any more than a cuirassed colossus at the gate of the Horse Guards can be considered a fair sample of the British soldier of the line. The sword and pistol, however, had no doubt their effect — the former was in its sheath, the latter not loaded, and I hear that the French ladies are quite in raptures with these charming loups-de-me?'.
Let the warlike accoutrements then pass. It was necessary, perhaps, to strike the Parisians with awe, and therefore the crew was armed in this fierce fashion ; but why should the Captain begin to swagger as well as his men ? and why did the Prince de Joinville lug out sword and pistol so early ? or why if he thought fit to make preparations, should the official jour- nals brag of them afterwards as proofs of his extraordinary courage ?
Here is the case. The English Government makes him a present of the bones of Napoleon : English workmen work for nine hours without ceasing, and dig the coffin out of the ground : the English Commissioner hands over the key of the box to the French representative. Monsieur Chabot ; English horses carry the funeral-car down to the sea-shore, accompanied by the English Governor, who has actually left his bed to walk in the procession and to do the French nation honor.
After receiving and acknowledging these politenesses, the French captain takes his charge on board, and the first thing we afterwards hear of him is the determination '''' qii'll a sufaire passer"" mXo all his crew, to sink rather than yield up the body of the Emperor aiix 7nams de fetranger — into the hands of the foreigner. My dear Monseigneur, is not this par trap fort? Suppose " the foreigner " had wanted the coffin, could he not have kept it ? Why show this uncalled-for valor, this extraor- dinary alacrity at sinking ? Sink or blow yourself up as much as you please, but your Royal Highness must see that thf\ genteel thing would have been to wait until you were asked to do so, before you offended good-natured, honest people, who — • heaven help them ! — have never shown themselves at all mur- derousfy inclined towards you. A man knocks up his cabins forsooth, throws his tables and chairs overboard, runs guns into
THE SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON. 569
iho. portholes, and calls le quartier du hord oii existaient ces cham bres, LacedcBtnon. Lacedaemon ! There is a province, O Prince, in your royal father's dominions, a fruitful parent of heroes in its time, which would have given a much better nickname to your quartier du hord : you should have called it Gascony.
" Sooner than strike we'll all ex-pi-er On board of the Bell-e Pou-le."
Such fanfaronnading is very well on the part of Tom Dibden^ but a person of your Royal Highness's "pious and severe dig- nity " should have been above it. If you entertained an idea that war was imminent, would it not have been far better to have made your preparations in quiet, and when you found the war-rumor blown over, to have said nothing about what you intended to do ? Fie upon such cheap Lacedaemonianism ! There is no poltroon in the world but can brag about what he \vouId have done : however, to do your Royal Highness's nation justice, they brag and fight too.
This narrative, my dear Miss Smith, as you will have re- marked, is not a simple tale merely, but is accompanied by many moral and pithy remarks which form its chief value, in the writer's eyes at least, and the above account of the sham Lacedaemon on board the " Belle Poule " has a double-barrelled morality, as I conceive. Besides justly reprehending the French propensity towards braggadocio, it proves ver}-^ strongly a point on which I am the only statesman m Europe who has strongly insisted. In the " Paris Sketch Book" it was stated that the French hate us. They hate us, my dear, profoundly and desperately, and there never was such a hollow humbug in the world as the French alliance. Men get a character for patriotism in France merely by hating England. Directly they go into strong opposition (where, you know, people are always more patriotic than on the ministerial side), they appeal to the people, and have their hold on the people by hating England in common with them. Why ? It is a long story, and the hatred may be accounted for by many reasons, both political and social. Any time these eight hundred years this ill-will has been going on, and has been transmitted on the French side from father to son. On the French side, not on ours : we have had no, or few, defeats to complain of, no invasions to make us angry ; but you see that to discuss such a period of time would demand a considerable number of pages, and for the present we will avoid the examination of the question. But they hate us, that is the long and short of it ; and you
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see how this hatred has e:^loded just now, not upon a serious cause of difference, but upon an argument : for what is the Pasha of Egypt to us or them but a mere abstract opinion ? For the same reason the Little-endians in Lilliput abhorred the Big-endians ; and I beg you to remark how his Royal High- ness Prince Ferdinand Mary, upon hearing that this argument was in the course of debate between us, straight way flung his furniture overboard and expressed a preference for sinking his ship rather than yielding it to the eiranger. Nothing came of this wish of his, to be sure ; but the intention is everything. Unlucky circumstances denied hii^i the power, but he had the will.
Well, beyond this disappointment, the Prince de Joinville had nothing to complain of during the voyage, which terminated happily by the arrival of the " Belle Poule " at Cherbourg, on the 30th of November, at five o'clock in the morning. A tele- graph made the glad news known at Paris, where the Minister of the Interior, Tannegny-Duchatel (you will read the name. Madam, in the old Anglo-French wars), had already made " immense preparations " for receiving the body of Napoleon.
The entry was fixed for the 15th of December.
On the 8th of December at Cherbourg the body was trans- ferred from the " Belle Poule " frigate to the " Normandie " steamer. On which occasion the mayor of Cherbourg depos- ited, in the name of his town, a gold laurel branch upon the coffin — which was saluted by the forts and dikes of the place with ONE THOUSAND GUNS ! There was a treat for the inhab- itants.
There was on board the steamer a splendid receptacle for the coffin : " a temple with twelve pillars and a dome to cover it from the wet and moisture, surrounded with velvet hangings and silver fringes. At the head was a gold cross, at the foot a gold lamp : other lamps were kept constantly burning within, and vases of burning incense were hung around. An altar, hung with velvet and silver, was at the mizen-mast of the vessel, a7tdfoiir silver eagles at each cor tier of the altar T It was a compli ment at once to Napoleon and — excuse me for saying so, but so the facts are — to Napoleon and to God Almighty.
Three steamers, the " Normandie," the " Ve'loce," and the " Courrier," formed the expedition from Cherbourg to Havre, at which place they arrived on the evening of the 9th of De- cember, and where the " Vcloce " was replaced by the Seine steamer, having in tow one of the state-coasters, which was to fire the salute at the moment when the body was transferred into one of the vessels belonging to the Seine.
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The expedition passed Havre the same night, and came to anchor at Val de la Haye on the Seine, three leagues below Rouen.
Here the next morning (loth), it was met by the flotilla of steamboats of the Upper Seine, consisting, of the three " Dorades," the three " Etoiles," the '• Elbeuvien," the " Pa- risien," the " Parisienne," and the " Zampa," The Prince de Joinville, and the persons of the expedition, embarked imme- diately in the flotilla, which arrived the same day at Rouen.
At Rouen salutes were fired, the National Guard on both sides of the river paid military honors to the body : and over the middle of the suspension-bridge a magnificent cenotaph was erected, decorated with flags, fasces, violet hangings, and the imperial arms. Before the cenotaph the expedition stopped, and the absolution was giv^en by the archbishop and the clergy. After a couple of hours' stay, the expedition proceeded to Pont de I'Arche. On the nth it reached Vernon, on the 12th Mantes, on the 13th Maisons-sur-Seine.
"Everywhere," says the official account from which the above particulars are borrowed, " the authorities, the National Guard, and the people flocked to the passage of the flotilla, desirous to render the honors due to his glory, which is the glory of France. In seeing its hero return, the nation seemed to have found its Palladium again, — the sainted relics of vic- tory."
At length, on the 14th, the coffin was transferred from the " Dorade " steamer on board the imperial vessel arrived from Paris. In the evening, the imperial vessel arrived at Courbe- voie, which was the last stage of the journey.
Here it w^as that M. Guizotwent to examine the vessel, and was very nearly flung into the Seine, as report goes, by the patriots assembled there. It is now lying on the river, near the Invalides, amidst the drifting ice, whither the people of Paris are flocking out to see it.
The vessel is of a very elegant antique form, and I can give you on the Thames no better idea of it than by requesting you to fancy an immense wherry, of w^hich the stern has been cut straight off, and on w^hich a temple on steps has been elevated. At the figure-head is an immense gold eagle, and at the stern is a little terrace, filled with evergreens and a profusion ot banners. Upon pedestals along the sides of the vessel are tripods in which incense was burned, and underneath them are garlands of flowers called here " immortals." Four eagles surround the temple, and a great scroll or garland held in their
572 THE SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON
beaks, surrounds it. It i« hung with velvet and gold ; four gold caryatides support the entry of it ; and in the midst, upon a large platform hung with velvet, and bearing the imperial arms, stood the coffin. A steamboat, carrying two hundred musicians playing funeral marches and military symphonies, preceded this magnificent vessel to Courbevoie, where a funeral temple was erected, and " a statue of Notre Dame de Grace, before which the seamen of the ' Belle Poule ' inclined themselves, in ordel to thank her for having granted them a noble and glorious voyage."
Early on the morning of the 15th December, amidst clouds of incense, and thunder of cannon, and innumerable shouts of people, the coffin was transferred from the barge, and carried by the seamen of the " Belle Poule " to the Imperial Car.
And now having conducted our hero almost to the gates of Paris, I must tell you what preparations were made in the capital to receive him.
- Ten days before the arrival of the body, as you walked across the Deputies' Bridge, or over the Esplanade of the Invalides, you saw on the bridge eight, on the esplanade thirty-two, mys- terious boxes erected, wherein a couple of score of sculptors were at work night and day.
In the middle of the Invalid Avenue, there used to stand, on a kind of shabby fountain or pump, a bust of Lafayette, crowned with some dirty wreaths of " immortals," and looking down at the little streamlet which occasionally dribbled below him. The spot of ground was now clear, and Lafayette and the pump had been consigned to some cellar, to make way for the mighty procession thai was to pass over the place of their habitation.
Strange coincidence ! If I had been M. Victor Hugo, my dear, or a poet of any note, I would, in a few hours, have made an impromptu concernmg that Lafayette-crowned pump, and compared its lot now to the fortune of its patron some fifty years back. From him then issued, as from his fountain now, a feeble dribble of pure words , then, as now, some faint circle of disciples were willing to admire him. Certainly in the midst of the war and storm without, this pure fount of eloquence went dribbling, dribbling on, till of a sudden the revolutionary workmen knocked down statue and fountain, and the gorgeous imperial cavalcade trampled over the spot where they stood.
As for the Champs Elyse'es, there was no end to the prepara- tions : the first day you saw a couole of hundred scaffoldings
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573
erected at intervals between the handsome gilded gas-lamps that at present ornament that avenue ; next day, all these scaffold- ings were filled with brick and mortar. Presentl}^, over the bricks and mortar rose pediments of statues, legs of urns, legs of goddesses, legs and bodies of goddesses, legs, bodies, and busts of goddesses. Finally, on the 13th December, goddesses complete. On the 14th, they were painted marble-color : and the basements of wood and canvas on which they stood were made to resemble the same costly material. The funeral urns were ready to receive the frankincense and precious odors which were to burn in them. A vast number of white columns stretched down the avenue, each bearing a bronze buckler on which was written, in gold letters, one of the victories of the Emperor, and each decorated with enormous imperial flags. On these columns golden eagles were placed ; and the news- papers did not fail to remark the ingenious position in which the royal birds had been set : for while those'on the right-hand side of the way had their heads turned ioivards the procession, as if to watch its coming, those on the left were looking exactly the other way, as if to regard its progress. Do not fancy I am joking : this point was gravely and emphatically urged in many newspapers ; and I do believe no mortal Frenchman ever thought it anything but sublime.
Do not interrupt me, sweet Miss Smith. I feel that you are angry. I can see from here the pouting of your lips, and know what you are going to say. You are going to say, " I will read no more of this Mr. Titmarsh ; there is no subject, however solemn, but he treats it with flippant irreverence, and no char- acter, however great, at whom he does not sneer."
Ah, my dear ! you are young now and enthusiastic ; and your Titmarsh is old, very old, sad, and gray-headed. I have seen a poor mother buy a halfpenny wreath at the gate of Mont- martre burying-ground, and go with it to her little child's grave, and hang it there over the little humble stone ; and if ever you saw me scorn the mean offering of the poor shabby creature, I will give you leave to be as angry as you will. They say that on the passage of Napoleon's coffin down the Seine, old soldiers and countr}^ people walked miles from their villages just to catch a sight of the boat which carried his body, and to kneel down on the shore and pray for him. God forbid that we should quarrel with such prayers and sorrow, or question their sincerity. Something great and good must have been in this man, some- thing loving and kindly, that has kept his name so cherished in the popular memory, and gained him such lasting reverence and affection.
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But, Mq,clain, one may inspect the dead without feeling awe* stricken at the plumes of the hearse ; and I see no reason why one should sympathize with the train of mutes and undertakers, however deep may be their mourning. Look, I pray you, at the manner in which the French nation has performed Napoleon's funeral. Time out of mind, nations have raised, in memory of their heroes, august mausoleums, grand pyramids, splendid statues of gold or marble, sacrificing whatever they had that was most costly and rare, or that was most beautiful in art, as tokens of their respect and love for the dead person. What a fine example of tliis sort of sacrifice is^tlrat (recorded in a book of which Simplicity is the great characteristic) of the poor woman who brought her pot of precious ointment — her all, and laid it at the feet of the Object which, upon earth, she most loved and respected. " Economists and calculators " there were even in those days who quarrelled with the manner in which the poor woman lavished so much " capital ; " but you will remember how nobly and generously the sacrifice was appreciated, and how the economists were put to shame.
With regard to the funeral ceremony that has just been per- formed here, it is said that a famous public personage and statesman, Monsieur Thiers indeed, spoke with the bitterest indignation of the general style of the preparations, and of their mean and tawdry character. He would have had a pomp as magnificent, he said, as that of Rome at the triumph of Aurelian : he would have decorated the bridges and avenues through which the procession was to pass, with the costliest marbles- and the finest w^orks of art, and have had them to remain there forever as monuments of the great funeral.
The economists and calculators might here interpose with a great deal of reason ; for, indeed, there was no reason why a nation should impoverish itself to do honor to the memory of an individual for whom, after all, it can feel but a qualified enthusiasm :, but it surely might have employed the large sum voted for the purpose more wisely and generously, and recorded its respect for Napoleon by some w'orthy and lasting memorial, rather than have erected yonder thousand vain heaps of tinsel, paint, and plaster, that are already cracking and crumbling in the frost, at three days old.
Scarcely one of the statues, indeed, deserves to last a month : some are odious distortions and caricatures, which never should have been allowed to stand for a moment. On the very day of the fete, the wind was shaking the canvas pedestals, and the flimsy wood-work had begun to gape and give way.
THE SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON.
575
At a little distance, to be sure, you could not see the cracks ; and pedestals and statues lookedVik^ marble. At some distance, you could not tell but that the wreaths and eagles were gold embroidery, and not gilt paper — the great tricolor flags damask, and not striped calico. One would think that these sham splendors betokened sham respect, if one had not known that the name of Napoleon is held in real reverence, and observed some- what of the character of the nation. Real feelings they have, but they distort them by exaggeration ; real courage, which they render ludicrous by intolerable braggadocio ; and I think the above official account of the Prince de Joinville's proceedings, of the manner in which the Emperor's remains have been treated in their voyage to the capital, and of the preparations made to receive him in it, will give my dear Miss Smith some means of understanding the social and moral condition ©f this worthy people of France.
HI. ON THE FUNERAL CEREMONY.
Shall I tell you, my dear, that when Frangois woke me at a very early hour on this eventful morning, while the keen stars were still glittering overhead, a half-moon, as sharp as a razor, beaming in the frosty sky, and a wicked north wind blowing, that blew the blood out of one's fingers and froze your leg as you put it out of bed ; — shall I tell you, my dear, that when Francois called me, and said, " Via vot' cafe. Monsieur Tite- masse, buvez-le, tiens, il est tout chaud," I felt myself, after imbibing the hot breakfast, so comfortable under three blankets and a mackintosh, that for at least quarter of an hour no man in Europe could say whether Titmarsh would or would not be present at the burial of the Emperor Napoleon.
Besides, my dear, the cold, there was another reason for doubting. Did the French nation, or did they not, intend to offer up some of us English over the imperial grave ? And were the games to be concluded by a massacre ? It was said in the newspapers that Lord Granville had despatched circulars to all the English resident in Paris, begging them to keep their homes. The French journals announced this news, and warned
5^6 THE SECOxVD FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON.
US charitably of the fate intended for us. Had Lord Granville written ? Certainly not to me. Or had he written to all except me? And was I the victim — the doomed one .^ — to be seized directly I showed my face in the Champs Elysees, and torn in pieces by French Patriotism to the frantic chorus of the '' Marseillaise ? " Depend on it, Madam, that high and low in this city on Tuesday were not altogether at their ease, and that the bravest felt no small tremor ! And be sure of this, that as his Majesty Louis Philippe took his nightcap off his royal head that morning, he prayed heartily that he mi^ht, at night, put it on in safety.
Well, as my companion and I came out of doors, being bound for the Church of the Invalides, for which a Deputy had kindly furnished us with tickets, we saw the very prettiest sight of the whole day, and I can't refrain from mentioning it to my dear, tender-hearted Miss Smith.
In the same house where I live (but about five stories nearer the ground), lodges an English family, consisting of — i. A great-grandmother, a hale, handsome old lady of seventy, the very best-dressed and neatest old lady in Paris. 2. A grand- father and grandmother, tolerably young to bear that title. 3. A daughter. And 4. Two little great-grand, or grand-children, that may be of the age of three and one, and belong to a son and daughter who are in India. The grandfather, who is as proud of his wife as he was thirty years ago when he married, and pays her compliments still twice or thrice in a day, and when he leads her into a room looks round at the persons as- sembled, and says in his heart, " Here, gentlemen, here is my wife — show me such another woman in England," — this gentleman had hired a room on the Champs Elysees, for he would not have his wife catch cold by exposing her to the balconies in the open air.
When I came to the street, I found the family assembled in the following order of march : —
No. I, the great-grandmother walking daintily along, supported by No. 3,
her granddaughter.
• A nurse carrying No. 4 junior, who was sound asleep, and a huge basket
containing saucepans, bottles of milk, parcels of infants' food, certain dimity napkms, a child's coral, and a little horse belonging to No 4 senior.
A servant bearing a basket of condiments.
No. 2, grandfatlier, spick and span, clean shaved, hat brushed, white buck-
skin gloves, bamboo cane, brown great-coat, walking as upright and solemnas may be, having his lady on his arm.
■ No. 4, senior, with mottled legs and a tartan costume, who was frisking
about between his grandpapa's legs, who heartily wished him at home.
THE SECOIVD FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON.
577
" My dear," his face seemed to say to his lady, " I think you might have left the little things in the nursery, for we shall have to squeeze through a terrible crowd in the Champs Elysees."
The lady was going out for a day's pleasure, and her face was full of care : she had to look first after her old mother who was walking ahead, then after No. 4 junior with the nurse — he might fall into all sorts of danger, wake up, cry, catch cold ; nurse might slip down, or heaven knows what. Then she had to look her husband in the face, who had gone to such expense and been so kind for her sake, and make that gentle- man believe she was thoroughly happy ; and, finally, she had to keep an eye upon No. 4 senior, who, as she was perfectly certain, was about in two minutes to be lost forever, or trampled to pieces in the crowd.
These events took place in a quiet little street leading into the Champs Elyse'es, the entry of which we had almost reached by this time. The four detachments above described, which had been straggling a little in their passage down the street, closed up at the end of it, and stood for a moment huddled to- gether. No. 3, Miss X — , began speaking to her companion tJie great-grandmother.
" Hush, my dear," said that old lady, looking round alarmed at her daughter. " Speak French.^^ And she straightway be- gan nervously to make a speech which she supposed to be in that language, but which was as much like French as Iroquois, The whole secret was out : you could read it in the grand- mother's face, who was doing all she could to keep from cry- ing, and looked as frightened as she dared to look. The two elder ladies had settled between them that there was going to be a general English slaughter that day, and had brought the children with them, so that they might all be murdered in company.
God bless you, O women, moist-eyed and tender-hearted ! In those gentle silly tears of yours there is something touches one, be they never so foolish. I don't think there were many such natural drops shed that day as those which just made their appearance in the grandmother's eyes, and then went back again as if they had been ashamed of themselves, while the good lady and her little troop walked across the road. Think how happy she will be when night comes, and there has been no murder of English, and the brood is all nestled under her wings sound asleep, and she is lying awake thanking God that the day and its pleasures and pains are over. Whilst we were
37
^ng THE SECOND FUNERAL OF AAPOLEON.
considering these things, the grandfather had suddenly elevated No. 4 senior upon his left shoulder, and I saw the tartan hat of that young gentleman, and the bamboo-cane which had been transferred to him, high over the heads of the crowd on the opposite side through which the party moved.
After this little.procession had passed away — you may laugh at it, but upon my word and conscience. Miss Smith, I saw nothing in the course of the day which affected me more — after this little procession had passed away the other came, accom- panied by gun-banging, flag-waving, incense-burning, trumpets pealing, drums rolling, and at the close, received by the voice of six hundred choristers, sweetly modulated to the tones of fifteen score of fiddlers. Then you saw horse and foot, jack- boots and bearskin, cuirass and bayonet, national guard and line, marshals and generals all over gold, smart aids-de-camp galloping about like mad, and high in the midst of all, riding on his golden buckler, Solomon in all his glory, forsooth — Im- perial Caesar, with his crown over his head, laurels and stand- ards waving about his gorgeous chariot, and a million of people looking on in wonder and awe.
His Majesty the Emperor and King reclined on his shield, with his head a little elevated. His Majesty's skull is volumi- nous, his forehead broad and large. We remarked that his Im- perial Majesty's brow was of a yellowish color, which appear- ance was also visible about the orbits of the eyes. He kept his eyelids constantly closed, by which we had the opportunity of observing that the upper lids were garnished with eye- lashes. Years and climate have effected upon the face of this great monarch only a trifling alteration ; we may say, indeed, that Time has touched his Imperial and Royal Majesty with the lightest feather in his wing. In the nose of the Conqueror of Austerlitz we remarked very little alteration : it is of the beautiful shape which we remember it possessed iive-and- twenty years since, ere unfortunate circumstances induced him to leave us for a while. The nostril and the tube of the nose appear to have undergone some slight alteration, but in ex- amining a beloved object the eye of affection is perhaps too critical. Vive V Eijipereiir ! The soldier of Marengo is among us again. His lips are thinner, perhaps, than they were be- fore I how white his teeth are ! you can just see three of them pressing his under lip ; and pray remark the fullness of his cheeks and the round contour of his chin. Oh, those beau- tiful white hands ! many a time have they patted the cheek of poor Josephine, and played with the black ringlets of her hair.
THE SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON.
579
She is dead now, and cold, poor creature ; and so are Hor- tense and bold Eugene, " than whom the world never saw a curtier knight," as was said of King Arthur's Sir Lancelot. What a day would it have been for those three could they but ha/e lived until now, and seen their hero returning ! Where's Ney ? His wife sits looking out from M. Flahaut's window yon- der, but the bravest of the brave is not with her. Murattoois absent : honest Joachim loves the Emperor at heart, and repents that he was not at Waterloo : who knows but that at the sight of the handsome swordsman those stubborn English " canaille " would have given way ? A king, Sire, is, you know, the greatest of slaves — State affairs of consequence — his Maj- esty the King of Naples is detained, no doubt. When we last saw the King, however, and his Highness the Prince of Elchingen, they looked to have as good health as ever they had in their lives, and we heard each of them calmly calling out '"''Fire! " as they had done in numberless battles before.
Is it possible ? can the Emperor forget ? We don't like to break it to him, but has he forgotten all about the farm at Pizzo, and the garden of the Observatory ? Yes, truly : there he lies on his golden shield, never stirring, never so much as lifting his eyelids, or opening his lips any wider.
O vafiitas vcviitatuvi ! Here is our sovereign in all his glory, and they fired a thousand guns at Cherbourg and nevei woke him !
However, we are advancing matters by several hours, and you must give just as much credence as you please to the sub- joined remarks concerning the Procession, seeing that your humble servant could not possibly be present at it, being bound for the church elsewhere.
Programmes, however, have been published of the affair, and your vivid fancy will not fail to give life to them, and the whole magnificent train will pass before you.
Fancy then, that the guns are fired at Neuilly : the body landed at daybreak from the funereal barge, and transferred to the car ; and fancy the car, a huge Juggernaut of a machine, rolling on four wheels of an antique shape, which supported a basement adorned with golden eagles, banners, laurels, and velvet hangings. Above the hangings stand twelve golden statues with raised arms supporting a huge shield, on which the coffin lay. On the coffin was the imperial crown, covered with violet velvet crape, and the whole vast machine was drawn by horses in superb housings, led by valets in the imperial livery.
£8o THE SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON.
Fancy, at the -head of t^e procession first of all —
The Gendarmerie of the Seine, with their trumpets and Colonel.
The Municipal Guard (horse) with their trumpets, standard, and Colonel.
Two squadrons of the 7th Lancers, with Colonel, standard, and music.
The Commandant of Paris and his Staff.
A battalion of Infantry of the Line, with their flag, sappers, drums, music, and Colonel.
The Municipal Guard (foot), with flag, drums, and Colonel.
The Sapper-pumpers, with ditto.
Then picture to yourself more squadrons of Lancers and Cuirassiers. The General of the Division and his Staff; all officers of all arms employed at Paris, and unattached ; the Military School of Saint Cyr, the Polytechnic School, the School of the Etat-Major; and the Professors and Staff of each. Go on imagining more bjittalions of Infantry, of Artillery, com- panies of Engineers, squadrons of Cuirassiers, ditto of the Cavalry, of the National Guard, and the first and second legions of ditto.
Fancy a carriage, containing the Chaj^lain of the St. Helena expedition, the only clerical gentleman that formed a part of the procession.
Fancy you hear the funeral music, and then figure in your mind's eye —
The Emperor's Charger, that is, Napoleon's own saddle and bridle (when First Consul) upon a white horse. The saddle (which has been kept ever since in the Garde Meuble of the Crown) is of amaranth velvet, embroidered in gold : the holsters and housings are of the same rich material. On them you remark the attributes of War, Commerce, Science and Art. The bits and stirrups are silver-gilt chased. Over the stirrups, two eagles were placed at the time of the empire. The horse was covered with a violet crape embroidered with golden bees.
After this came more Soldiers, General Officers, Sub-Officers, Marshals, and what was said to be the prettiest sight almost of the whole, the ban- ners of the eightj'-six Departments of France. These are due to the invention of M. Thiers, and were to have been accompanied by federates from each Department. But the Government very wisely mistrusted this and some other projects of Monsieur Thiers; and as for a federation, my dear, it has been t7-ied. Next comes —
His Royal Highness the Prince de Joinville.
The 500 sailors of the " Belle Poule " marching in double file on each side of
THE CAR.
[Hush ! the enormous crowd thrills as it passes, and only some few voices
cry Vive P Empcreiir ! Shining golden in the frosty sun — with hundreds
of thousands of eyes upon it, from houses and housetops, from balconies,
black, purple, and tricolor, from tops of leafless trees, from behind long lines of glittering bayonets under schakos and bearskin caps, from behind the Line and tlie National Guard again, pushing, strugghng, heav- •'ng, panting, eager, the heads of an enormous multitude stretching out to meet and follow it, amidst long avenues of columns, and statues gleaming white, of stand- ards rainbow-colored, of golden eagles, of pale funeral urns, of discharging odors amidst
huge volumes of pitch-black smoke, THE GREAT 1MPERL\L CHARIOT
ROLLS MAJESTICALLY ON.
The cords of the pall are held by tv/o Marshals, an Admiral and General
Bertrand ; who are followed by — Tlie Prefects of the Seine and Police, &c. The Mayors of Paris, &c. The Members of the Old Guard, &c. A Squadron of Ligh.t Dragoons, &c. Lieutenant-General Schneider, &c.
THE SECOXD FLWERAL OF XAFOLEON. 58 1
More cavalr -, more infantry, more artillery, more everybody ; and as tha procession passes, the Line and the National Guard forming line on each side of the road fall in and follow it, until it arrives at the Church of the Invalides, where the last lionors are to be paid to it.]
Among the company assembled under the dome of that edifice, the casual observer would not perhaps have remarked a geatleman of the name of Michael Angelo Titmarsh, who nevertheless M^as there. But as, my dear Miss Smith, the decjcriptions in this letter, from the words in page 578, line 15 — the party moved — up to the words paid to it, on this page, have purely emanated from your obedient servant's fancy, and not from his personal observation (for no being on earth, except a newspaper reporter, can be in two places at once), permit m« now to communicate to you what little circumstances fell unde/ my own particular view on the day of the 15th of December.
As we came out, the air and the buildings round about were tinged with purple, and the clear sharp half-moon before-men- tioned was still in the sky, where it seemed to be lingering as if it would catch a peep of the commencement of the famous procession. The Arc de Triomphe was shining in a keen frosty sunshine, and looking as clean and rosy as if it had just made its toilette. The canvas or pasteboard image of Napoleon, of which only the gilded legs had been erected the night previous, was now visible, body, head, crown^ sceptre and all, and made an imposing show. Long gilt banners were flaunting about, the imperial cipher and eagle, and the names of the battles and victories glittering in gold. The long avenues of the Champs Elysees had been covered with sand for the convenience of the great procession that was to tramp across it that day. Hun- dreds of people were marching to and fro, laughing, chattering, singing, gesticulating as happy Frenchmen do. There is no pleasanter sight than a French crowd on the alert for a festival, and nothing more catching than their good-humor. As for the notion which has been put forward by some of the opposition newspapers that the populace were on this occasion unusually solemn or sentimental, it would be paying a bad compliment to the natural gayety of the nation, to say that it was, on the morn- ing at least of the 15th of December, affected in any such absurd way. Itinerant merchants were shouting out lustily their commodities of segars and brandy, and the weather was so bitter cold, that they could not fail to find plenty of cus- tomers. Carpenters and workmen were still making a huge banging and clattering among the sheds which were built for the accommodation of the visitors. Some of these sheds were
^82 THE SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON.
hung with black, such as one sees before churches in funerals ; some were robed in violet, in compliment to the Emperor whose mourning they put on. Most of them had fine tricolor hang^ ings with appropriate inscriptions to the glory of the French arms.
All along the Champs Elyse'es were urns of plaster-of-Paris destined to contain funeral incense and flames ; columns decor- ated with huge flags of blue, red, and white, embroidered with shining crowns, eagles, and N's in gilt paper, and statues of plaster representing Nymphs, Triumphs, Victories, or other female personages, painted in oil so as to represent marble. Real marble could have had no better effect, and the appear- ance of the whole was lively and picturesque in the extreme. On each pillar was a buckler of the color of bronze, bearing the name and date of a battle in gilt letters ; you had to walk through a mile-long avenue of these gloriou's reminiscences, telling of spots where, in the great imperial days, throats had been victoriously cut.
As we passed down the avenue, several troops of soldiers met us • the garde-viiinidpale a cJieval, in brass helmets and shining jack-boots, noble-looking men, large, on large horses, the pick of the old army, as I have heard, and armed for the special occupation of peace-keeping : not the most glorious, but the best part of the soldier's duty, as I fancy. Then came a regiment of Carabineers, one of Infantry — little, alert, brown- faced, good-humored men, their band at their head playing sounding marches. These were followed by a regiment or detachment of the Municipals on foot — two or three inches taller than the men of the Line, and conspicuous for their neat- ness and discipline. By and by came a squadron or so of dra- goons of the National Guards : they are covered with straps, buckles, aiguillettes, and cartouche-boxes, and made under their tricolor cock's-plumes a show sufficiently warlike. The point which chieliy struck me on beholding these military men of the National Guard and the Line, was the admirable man- ner in which they bore a cold that seemed to me as sharp as the weather in the Russian retreat, through which cold the troops were trotting without trembling and in the utmost cheerfulness and good-humor. An aide-de-camp galloped past in white pantaloons. By heavens ! it made me shudder to look at him.
With this profound reflection, we turned away to the right towards the hanging-bridge (where we met a detachment of young men of the Ecole de I'Etat Major, fine-looking lads, but
THE SECOND FUXEKAL OE XAFOLEO.V. 583
sadly disfigured by the wearing of stays or belts, that make the waists of the French dandies of a most absurd tenuity), and speedily passed into the avenue of statues leading up to the Invalides. All these were statues of warriors from Ney to Charlemagne, modelled in clay for the nonce, and placed here to meet the corpse of the greatest warrior of all. Passing these, we had to walk to a little door at the back of the In- valides, where was a crowd of persons plunged in the deepest mourning, and pushing for places in the chapel within.
The chapel is spacious and of no great architectural preten- sions, but w^as on this occasion gorgeously decorated in honor of the great person to whose body it was about to give shelter.
We had arrived at nine : the ceremony was not to begin, they said, till two : we had five hours before us to see all that from our places could be seen.
We saw that the roof, up to the fa-st lines of architecture, was hung with violet ; beyond this with black. We saw N's, eagles, bees, laurel wa-eaths, and other such imperial emblems, adorning every nook and corner of the edifice. Between the arches, on each side of the aisle, were painted trophies, on which were written the names of some of Napoleon's Generals and of their principal deeds of arms — and not their deeds of arms alone, pardi, but their coats of arms too. O stars and garters ! but this is too much. What was Ney s paternal coat, prithee, or honest Junot's quarterings, or the venerable escut- cheon of King Joachim's father, the innkeeper?
You and I, dear Miss Smith, know the exact value of heraldic bearings. W^e know^ that though the greatest pleasure of all is to act like a gentleman, it is a pleasure, nay a merit, to be one — to come of an old stock, to have an honorable pedi- gree, to be able to say that centuries back our fathers had gentle blood, and to us transmitted the same. There is a good in gentility : the man wdio questions it is envious, or a coarse dullard not able to perceive the difference between high breed- ing and low. One has in the same w'ay heard a man brag that he did not know the difference between wines, not he — give him a good glass of port and he would pitch all your claret to the deuce. My love, men often brag about their own dulness in this way.
In the matter of gentlemen, democrats cry, " Psha ! Give us one of Nature's gentlemen, and hang your aristocrats." And so indeed Nature does make some gentlemen — a few here and there. But Art makes most. Good birth, that, is, good hand- some well-formed fathers and mothers, nice cleanly nursery-
584
THE SECOND EUNERAL OE NAPOLEON.
maids, gogd meals, good iJ^iysicians, good education, few cares, pleasant easy hjibits of life, and luxuries not too great or enervating, but only refining — a course of these going on for a few generations are the best gentleman-makers in the world, and beat Nature hollow.
If, respected Madam, you say that there is something better than gentility in this wicked world, and that honesty and per- sonal "worth are more \aluable than all the politeness and high- breeding that ever wore red-heeled pumps, knights' spurs, or Hoby's "boots, Titmarsh for one is never going to say you nay. If you even go so far as to say that the very, existence of this super-genteel society among us, from the slavish respect that we pay to it, from the dastardly manner in which we attempt to imitate its airs and ape its vices, goes far to destroy honesty of intercourse, to make us meanly ashamed of our natural affec- tions and honest, harmless usages, and so does a great deal more harm than it is possible it can do good by its example — perhaps, Madam, you speak with some sort of reason. Potato myself. I can't help seeing that the tulip yonder has the best place in the garden, and the most sunshine, and the most water, and the best tending — and not liking him over well. But I can't help acknowledging hat Nature has given him a much finer dress than ever I can hope to have, and of this, at least, must give him the benefit.
Or say, we are so many cocks and hens, my dear {saiis arrlerepensee), with our crops pretty full, our plumes pretty sleek, decent picking here and there in the straw-yard, and tolerable snug roosting in the barn : yonder on the terrace, in the sun, walks Peacock, stretching his proud neck, squealing every now and then in the most pert fashionable voice and flaunting his great supercilious dandified tail. Don't let us be too angry, my dear, with the useless, haughty, insolent creature, because he despises us. So7?iet/ii?ig\s there about Peacock that we don't possess. Strain your neck ever so, you can't make it as long or as blue as his — cock your tail as much as you please, and it will never be half so fine to look at. But the most absurd, disgusting contemptible sight in the world would you and I be, leaving the barn-door for my lady's flower-garden, forsaking our natural sturdy walk for the peacock's genteel rickety stride, and adopting the^ squeak of his voice in the place of our gallant lusty cock-a-doodledooing.
Do you take the allegory ^ I love to speak in such, and the above types have been presented to my mind while sitting opposite a gimcrack coat-of-arms and coronet that are painted
THE SECOXD irXJ:i<AL OF \AFOLr.uX. 585
in tlie Invaliues (/hurcli, and assL^n6d lu oiic of the Eiapcior s Generals.
VcntrebUu! .Madam, wliat need have Ihiy of coats-otarms and coronets, and wretched imitations of old exploded aristo- cratic gewj^aws \.\\\\l they, had flunc;; out of t!ic country — with the heads of the owners i!i "them sometimes, for indeed they were not particular — a score- of years before ? What business, for- sooth, had tlicy to be meddling with gentility and aping its wavs. who had courage, merit, daring, genius sometimes, and a pride of their own to support, if proud they were inclined to be ? A clever xoiing man (who was not of high family himself, but had been bred up genteely at Eton and the university; — young -\[r. George Canning, at the commencement of the French Revolution, sneered at "' Roland the Just, with ribbons in his shoes.'" and the dandies, who then wove buckles, voted the sarcasm monstrous killing. It was a joke, my dear, worthy of a lackey, or of a silly smart parvenu, not knowing the society into which his luck had cast him (God help him ! in later years, they taught him what they were !), and fancying in his silly intoxication that simplicity w-as ludicrous and fashion respect- able. See, now, fifty years are gone, and where are shoebuckles ? Extinct, defunct, kicked into the irrevocable past off the toes of all Europe !
How fatal to the parvenu, throughout history, has been this respect for shoebuckles. Where, for instance, would the Empire of Napoleon have been, if Ney and Lannes had never sported such a thing as a coat-of-arms, and had only written their simple names on their shields, after the fashion of Desaix's scutcheon yonder 'i — the bold Republican who led the crowning charge at Marengo, and sent the best blood of the Holy Roman Empire to the right-about, before the wretched misbegotten imperial heraldry was born, that was to prove so disastrous to the father of it. It has always been so. They won't amalgamate. A country must be governed by the one principle or the other. But give, in a republic, an aristocracy ever so little chance, and it works and plots and sneaks and bullies and sneers itself into place, and you find democracy out of doors. Is it good that the aristocracy should so trium.ph ? — that is a question that you may settle according to your own notions and taste ; and permit me to say, I do not care twopence how you settle it. Large books have been written upon the subject in a variety of languages, and coming to a varletv of conclusions. Great statesmen are there in our'country, from Lord Londonderry down to Mr. Vincent, e-A-ch in his degree maintaining his different opinion. But here.
1^86 '^'^t: SECOND FUNERAL OE NAEOLEON.
in the niaaer ofNapoleoif, is a simple fact ; he tuunded a great, j^lorioiis, strong, potent republic, able to cope with the best aristocracies in the world, and perhaps to beat them all ; he converts Ins republic into a monarchy, and surrounds his monarchy with what he calls aristocratic institutions; and you know what becomes of him. The people estranged, the aristo- cracy faithless (when did they ever pardon one wdio was not themselves?) — the'imperial fabric tumbles to the ground. If it teaches nothing else, my dear, it teaches one a great point of policy — nan-tel)-, to stick by one's party.
While these thoughts (and sundry others relative to the hor- rible cold of the place, the intense dullness of delay, the stupidity of leaving a warm bed and a breakfast in order to witness a procession that is much better performed at a theatre) — while these thoughts were passing in the mind, the church began to fill apace, and vou saw that the hour of the ceremony was drawing near.
Lnpfimis. came men with lighted staves, and set fire to at least ten thousand wax-candles that were hanging in brilliant chandeliers in various parts of the chapel. Curtains were dropped over the upper windows as these illuminations were effected, and the church was left only to the funereal light of the spermaceti. To the right was the dome, round the cavity of which sparkling lamps were set, that designed the shape of it brilliantly against the darkness. In the midst, and where the altar used to stand, rose the ca:a^alque. And why not ? Who is God here but Napoleon ? and in him the skeptics have already ceased to believe ; but the people does still somewhat. He and Louis XIV. divide the worship of the place between thera.
As for the catafalque, the best that I can say for it is that it is really a noble and imposing-looking edifice, with tall pillars supporting a grand dome, with innumerable escutcheons, stand- ards, and allusions military and funereal. A great eagle of course tops the whole : tripods burning spirits of wine stand round this kind of dead man's throne, and as we saw it (by peer- ing over the heads of our neighbors in the front rank), it looked, in the midst of the black concave, and under the effect of half-a-thousand flashing cross-lights, properly grand and tall. The effect of the whole chapel, however (to speak the jargon of the painting-room), was spoiled by being cut up : there were too many objects for the e3'e to rest upon : the ten thousand wax candles, for instance, in their numberless twinkling chan- deliers, the raw iranchant colors of iJie new banners, wreaths, bees, N's, and other emblems dotting the place all over, and incessantly puzzling, or rather bothering the beholder.
THE SECOND FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON 587
High overhead, in a sort of mist, with the glare of theii original colors worn down by dust and time, hung long rows of dim ghostly-looking standards, captured in old days from the enemy. They were, I thought, the best and most solemn part of the show.
To suppose that the people w^ere bound to be solemn during the ceremony is to exact from them something quite neediest and unnatural. The very fact of a squeeze dissipates all solemnitv. One great crowd is always, as I imagine, pretty much like another. In the course of the last few years 1 have seen three ; that attending the coronation of our present sov- ereign, that which went to see Courvoisier hanged, and this which 'witnessed the Napoleon ceremony. The people so assembled for hours together are jocular rather than solemn, seeking to pass away the weary time with the best amuse- ments that will offer. There was, to be sure, in all the scenes above alluded to, just one moment — one particular moment— when the universal people feels a shock and is for that second serious.
But except for that second of time, I declare I saw no seriousness here beyond that of ennui. The church began to fill with personages of all ranks and conditions. First opposite our seats came a company of fat grenadiers of the National Guard, who presently, at the word of command, put their muskets down against benches and wainscots, until the arrival of the procession. For seven hours these men formed the object of the most anxious solicitude of all the ladies and gentlemen seated on our benches : they began stamp their feet, for the cold was atrocious, and we w^ere frozen where we sat. Some of them fell to blowing their fingers ; one executed a kind of dance, such as one sees often here in cold weather — the individual jumps repeatedly upon one leg, and kicks out the other violently, meanwhile his hands are flapping across his chest. Some fellows opened their cartouche-boxes, and from them drew eatables of various kinds. You can't think how anxious we w^ere to know^ the qualities of the same. "Tiens, ce gros qui mange une cuisse de volaille ! " — " II a du Jambon, celui-la." " I should like some, too,'^ growls an Englishman, *'for I hadn't a morsel of breakfast," and so on. This is the way, my dear, that vv^e see Napoleon buried.
Did you ever see a chicken escape from clown in a pan- tomime, and hop over into the pit, or amongst the fiddlers ? and have you not seen the shrieks of enthusiastic laughter that the wondrous incident occasions ? We had our chicken, of course i
588 THE S£CO.VJJ FUNEI^AI. UE \AFOLEOA\
there never was a public cro^d withuut one. A poor unhappy woman in a greasy plaid cloak, with a battered rose-colored plush bonnet, was seen taking her place among the stalls allotted to the grandees. " Voyez done I'Anglaise," said everybody, and it was too true. You could swear that the wretch Avas an Englishwoman : a bonnet was never made or worn so in any other country. Half an hour's delightful amusement did this lacly give us all. She was whisked from seat to seat by tlie huissiers, and at every change of place woke a peal of laughter. I was glad, however, at the end of the day to see the old pink bonnet over a very comfortable seat, which somebody had not claim.ed and she had kept.
Are not these remarkable incidents .? The next wonder we saw was the arrival of a set of tottering old Invalids, who took their places under us with drawn sabres. Then came a superb drum-major, a handsome smiling good-humored giant of a man, his breeches astonishingly embroidered with silver lace. Hini a dozen Httle drummer-boys followed — " the litde dar- lings ! "all the ladies cried out in a breath : they were indeed pretty little fellows, and came and stood close under us : the huge drum-major smiled Qver his little red-capped iiock, and for many hours in the most perfect contentment twiddled his mustaches and played with the tassels of his cane.
Now the company began to arrive thicker and thicker. A whole covey of Conseillers d' Etaf c-<m\Q in, in blue coats, em- broidered with blue silk, then came a crowd of lawyers in toques and caps, among whom were sundry venerable Judges in scarlet, purple velvet, and ermine — a kind of Bajazet cos- tume. Look there ! there is the Turkish Ambassador in his '■ed cap, turning his solemn brown face about and looking preternaturally wise. The Deputies walk in in a body. Guizot is not there : he passed by just now in full ministerial costume. Presently little Thiers saunters back: what a clear, broad, sharp-eyed face the fellow has, with his gray hair cut down so demure ! A servant passes, pushing through the crowd a shabby wheel-chair. It has just brought old Moncey the Gov- ernor of the Invalids, the honest old man who defended Paris so stoutly in 18 14. He has been very ill, and is worn down almost by infirmities : but in his illness he was perpetually ask- ing, " Doctor, shall I live till the 15th ? Give me till then, and I die contented." One can't help believing that the old man's wish is honest, however one may doubt the piety of another illustrious Marshal, who once carried a candle before Charles X. in a procession, and has been this morning to Neuilly to
THE SECGXD FUNERAL OF XAPOLEON: 589
kneel and pray at the foot of Napoleon's coftin. He might have said his j3rayers at home, to be sure ; but don't let us ask too much : that kind of reserve is not a Frenchman's charac- teristic.
Bang — bang ! At about half-past two a dull sound of can- nonading was heard without the church, and signals took place between the Connnandant of the Invalids, of the National Guards, and the big drum-major. Looking to these troops {the fat Nationals were shuffling into line again) the two Com- /nandants uttered, as nearly as I could catch them, the follow- ing words —
" Harru-M Hump ! "
At once all the National bayonets were on the present, and the sabres of the old Invalids up. The big drum-major looked round at the children, who began very slowly and solemnly on their drums. Rub-dub-dub — rub-dub-dub — (count two between each) — rub-dub-dub. and a great procession of priests came down from the altar.
First, there was a tall handsome cross-bearer, bearing a long gold cross, of which the front was turned towards his grace the Archbishop. Then came a double row of about sixteen incense-boys, dressed in white surplices : the first boy, about six years old, the last with whiskers and of the height of a man. Then followed a regiment of priests in black tippets and white gowns : they had black hoods, like the moon when she is at her third quarter, wherewith those who wei;e bald (many were, and fat too) covered themselves. All the reverend men held their heads meekly down,,^and affected to be reading in their bre- viaries.
After the Priests came some Bishops of the neighboring dis- tricts, in purple, with crosses sparkling on their episcopal bosoms.
Then came, after more priests, a set of men whom I have never seen before — a kind of ghostly heralds, young and hand- some men, some of them in stiff tabards of black and silver, their eyes to the ground, their hands placed at right angles with their chests.
Then came two gentlemen bearing remarkable tall candle- sticks, with candies of corresponding size. One was burning brightly, but the wind (that chartered libertine) had blown out the other, which nevertheless kept its place in the procession — I wondered to myself whether the reverend gentleman who car- ried the extinguished candle, felt disgusted, humiliated, mor- tified— perfectly conscious that the eyes of many thousands of
t^go TH^ SECOND FLWEKAL OF XAPOLEON
people were bent upon that Dit of refnictory wax. We all ot us looked at it with intense interest.
Another cross-bearer, behind whom came a gentleman carry- ing an instrument like a bedroom candlestick.
His Grandeur Monseigneur Affre, Archbishop of Paris : he was in black and white, his eyes were cast to the earth, his hands were together at right angles from his chest ; on his hands were black gloves, and on the black gloves sparkled the sacred episcopal — what do I say .'' — archiepiscopal ring. On his head was the mitre. It is unlike the godly coronet that figures upon the coachpanels of our own Right Reverend Bench, The Archbishop's mitre may be about a yard high : formed within probably of consecrated pasteboard, it is without covered by a sort of watered silk of white and silver. On the two peaks at the top of the mitre are two very little spangled tassels, that frisk and twinkle about in a v.ery agreeable manner.
Monseigneur stood opposite to us for some time, when I had the opportunity to note the above remarkable phenomena. He stood opposite me for some time, keeping his eyes steadily on the ground, his hands before him, a small clerical train follow- ing after. Why didn't they move ? There was the National Guard keeping on presenting arms, the little drummers going on rub-dub-dub — rub-dub-dub— in the same steady, slow way, and the Procession never moved an inch. There was evidently, to use an elegant phrase, a hitch somewhere.
\Entcr a fat priest^ who bustles up to the drum-7jta;'o^.'\
Fat priest — " Taisez-vous."
Liitle drumfner — Rub-dub-dub — rub-dub-dub — rub-dub- dub, &c.
Drum-major — " Qu'est-ce done ? "
Fat priest — " Taisez-vous, vous dis-je ; ce n'est pas le corps. II n'arrivera pas — pour une heure."
The little drums were instantly hushed, the procession turned to the right about, and walked back to the altar again, the blown-out candl-e that had been on the near side of us before was now on the off side, the National Guards set down their muskets and began at their sandwiches again. We had to wait an hour and a half at least before the great procession arrived. The guns without w-ent on booming all the while at intervals, and as we heard each, the audience gave a kind of " ahahah I " such as you hear when the rockets go up at Vauxhall.
At last the real Procession came,
Then the drums began to beat as formerly, the Nationals to get under arms, the clergymen were sent for and went, and pres.
THE SECOXD J-'CXERAL OE XAFOLl^OiV.
59'
ently— yes, there was the tall cross-bearer at the head of the procession, and they came back I
They chanted something in a weak, snuffling, lugubrious manner, to the melancholy bray of a serpent.
Crash ! however, Mr. Habeneck and the fiddlers in the organ- loft pealed out a wild shrill march, which stopped the reverend gentleman, and in the midst of this music —
And of a great trampling of feet and clattering,
And of a great crowd of Generals and Officers in fine clothes,
With the Prince de Joinville marching quickly at the head of the procession.
And while everybody's heart was thumping as hard as possible.
Napoleon's coffin passed.
It was done in an instant. A box covered with a great red cross — a dingy-looking crown lying on the top of it — seamen on one side and Invalids on the other — they had passed in an in- stant and were up the aisle.
A faint snuffiing sound, as before, was heard from the offi- ciating priests, but we knew of nothing more. It is said that old Louis Philippe was standing at the catafalque, whither the Prince de Joinville advanced and said, "Sire, I bring ycu the body of the Emperor Napoleon."'
Louis Philippe answered, " 1 receive it in the name of France." Bertrand put on the body the most glorious victor- ious sword that ever has been forged since the apt descendants of the first murderer learned how to hammer steel; and the coffin was placed in the temple prepared for it.
The six hundred singers and the fiddlers now commenced the playing and singing of a piece of music ; and a part of the crew of the " Belle Poule " skipped into the places that had been kept for them under us, and listened to the music, chew- ing tobacco. While the actors and fiddlers were going on, most of the spirits-of-wine lamps on altars went out.
When we arrived in the open air we passed through the court of tlie Invalides, where thousands of people had been as- sembled, but where the benches were now quite bare. Then we came on to the terrace before the place : the old soldiers were firing off the great guns, which made a dreadful stunning noise, and frightened some of us, who did not care to pass be- fore the cannon and be knocked down even by the wadding. The guns were fired in honor of the King, who was going home by a back door. All the forty thousand people who covered the great stands before the Hotel had gone away too. The Im«
c^C)2 THE SF.COXD FUNERAL OF NATO LEON.
perial Barge had 'been dra^-ged up the river, and was lying lonely along the Quay, examined by some few shivering people on the shore.
it was five o'clock when we reached home : the stars were shining keenly out of the frosty sky, and Francois told me that dinner was just ready.
In this manner, my dear Miss Smith, the great Napoleon was buried.
Farewell.
CRITICAL REVIEWS.
<99S)
GEORGE CRUIKSHANK*
Accusations of ingratitude, and just accusations no doubt, are made against every inhabitant of this wicked \yorld, and the fact is, that a man who is ceaselessly engaged m its trouble and turmoil, borne hither and thither upon the fierce waves of the crowd, bustling, shifting, struggling to keep himself some- what above water — fighting for reputation, or more likely for bread, and ceaselessly occupied to-day with plans for appeasing the eternal appetite of inevitable hunger to-morrow — a man in such straits has hardly time to think of anything but himself, and, as in a sinking ship, must make his own rush for the boats, and fight, struggle, and trample for safety. In the midst of such a combat as this, the " ingenious arts, which prevent the ferocity of the manners, and act upon them as an emollient '' (as the philosophic bard remarks in the Latin Grammar; are likely to be jostled to death, and then forgotten! The world will allow no such compromises between it and that which does not belong to it — no two gods must w^e serve ; but (as one has seen in some old portraits) the horrible glazed eyes of Necessity are always fixed upon you ; fly away as you will, black Care sits behind you, and with his ceaseless gloomy croaking drowns the voice of all more cheerful companions. Happy he whose fortune has placed him where there is calm and plenty, and who has the wisdom not to give up his quiet in quest of vision- arv gain.
' Here is, no doubt, the reason why a man, after the period of his boyhood, or first youth, makes so few friends. Want and ambition (new acquaintances which are introduced to him along with his beard) thrust away all other society from him. Some old friends remain, it is true, but these are become as a habit— a oart of your selfishness ; and, for new ones, they are selfish as you are. Neither member of the new partnership has the capital of affection and kindly feeling, or can even afford
* Reprinted from the U'citminslcr Rcv/eit' ior June, i?4o. (No- 66.;
(595)
396 CRniCAL REVIEWS
the time that is requisite for the establishment of the new firm. Damp and'chill the shades of the prison-house begm to close round us, and that " vision splendid " which has' accompanied our steps in our journey daily farther from the east, fades away and dies into the light of common day.
And what a common day ! what a foggy, dull, shivering apology for light is this kind of muddy twilight through which we are about to tramp and flounder for the rest of our exist- ence, wandering farther and farther from the beauty and fresh- ness and from the kindly gushing springs of clear gladness that made all round us green in our youth ! One wanders and gropes in a slough of stock-jobbing, one sinks or rises in a storm of politics, and in either case it is as good to fall as to rise — to mount a bubble on the crest of the wave, as to sink a stone to the bottom.
The reader who has seen the name athxed to the head of this article scarcely expected to be entertained with a decla- mation upon ingratitude, youth, and the vanity of human pur- suits, which may seem at first sight to have little to do with the subject in hand. But (although we reserve the privilege of discoursing upon whatever subject shall suit us, and by no means admit the public has any right to ask in our sentences for any meaning, or any connection whatever) it happens that, in this particular instance, there is an undoubted connection, In Susan's case, as recorded by Wordsworth, what connection had the corner of Wood Street with a mountain ascending, a vision of trees, and a nest by the Uove t Why should the song of a thrush cause bright volumes of vapor to glide through Lothbury, and a river to flow on through the vale of Cheapside.^ As she stood at the corner of Wood' Street, a mop and a pail in her hand most likely, she heard the bird singing, and straightway began pining and yearning for the days of her youth, forgetting the proper business of the pail and mop. Even so we are moved by the sight of some of Mr. Cruikshank's works — the " Busen fiihlt sich jugendlioh erschiittert," the "' schwankende Gestalten " of youth flit before one again, — Cruikshank's thrush begins to pipe and carol, as in the days of boyhood ; hence misty moralities, reflections, and sad and pleasant remembrances arise, tie is the friend of the young especially. Have we not read all the story-books that his wonderful pencil has illus- trated } Did we not forego tarts, in order to buy his " Break- ing-up,"" or Iiis *' l'"ashioiKibie Mousirosities " of the year eight- een hundred and something? Have we not before us, at this
GliORCF, CKC-JAS/.-A.VA'. 597
verv moment, a print.-one of Hie admirable ■■ Illustrations of PhJenolot'V "—which entire work was purchased by a jomt-stock company of boys, each drawing lots afterwards for the separate prints, and taking his choice in rotation ' 1 he wnter of th.s, fo", h'ad the honor of drawing the first lot, -nd set.ed m.me- dia elv upon " Philoprogenitiveness "—a marvel ou pnnt (our copy i^s not at all inlproved by being colored, which operauon ^,^%forraed on it iurselves)-a marvel ous print, mcleed,- fuU of ino-enuitv and fine jovial humor. A father possessor of an eno nTous n'ose and family, is surrounded by the latter, who are, some of them, embracing the former 1 re composi ,o.r writhes and twists about like the Kermes of Rubens. No le s than seven little men and women m nightcaps, n frocks, m Libs n b eeches, are clambering about the head, knees, ana a ms of the man ^vith the nose ; their ^X'' ^"VZZTo^Z urally developed-the twins in the cradle have noses of the most^onsiderablekind. The second daughter who is vvatch- ,n- them ■ the voungest but two, who sits squalling in a ceuain wkker chair ; the eldest son, who is yawning ,; the eldest dauglv ter who is preparing with the gravy of two mutton-chops a stvorv dish^of Vorklhire pudding for eighteen persons ; the vouth's who are e.xamiping her operations (one a I'^^^O, g^ntle- inan. in a remarkably neat nigh.cap and pma ore, who has jus had his finger in the pudding) ; the genius who l''^/' ;°'^^ °" the slate, a^id the two honest lads who are hugging the good- rumorld washerwoman, their mother,-all all, -- ' '™ >. woman, have nosesof the largest size, ^"t l^f"'!' °™? "^ '^ "'> are they, and yet everybody must be charmed with tlie pie ure I is u of grotesque beatny. The artist has at the back of his own skull, we are certain, a huge bump of Pl^'loP^f-'"- ness He loves children in his heart ; every one of those tie a drawn is perfectly happy, and jovial, and affectionate and innocent as possible. He makes them with large noses bu he loves them, and you always find something kind ' t''^ "^'^^ of his humor, and the ugliness ''"■'^^^^'^ '^y, ^ , f^ 'S^^^ beautv. The smiling mother reconciles one with all the hideous family : thev liaxe all something of the mother in them-soine thine- kind, and senerous, and tcnde-.
Knigh-s. i,r Sweeting's Alley; Fairburn's, in a court off LudtatI Hill; Hone's, in I-'leet Street-bright, enchanted pala?etwHch George Cruikshank used to people with gi^imng antastical imps, and merry, harmless =P"te^-where aie they^ Fail-burn's shop knows h.m no more ; not °"'y ha^2"e ^to disappeared from Sweeting's Alley, but, as we are gnen to
59^ CRrncAL rei'ifavs.
undersLancl Sweeting's A^ey has disappeared from the face of he L,iobe;_ blop, tne atrocious Castlereagh, the sainted Caro- hne_(in a tight pehsse, witli feathers in her head), the '' Dandv ot sixty, ' who used to glance at us from Hone's friendly win- dows-where are tliey ? Mr. Cruikshank may have drawn a thousand better things since the days when these were • but they are to us a thousand times more pleasing than anything else he lias done. .How we used to believe in them i to^ stray miles out of the way on holidays, in order to ponder for an hour before that delightful window in Sweeting's Alley ' in walks through Fleet Street, to vanish abruptly down Fairburn's passage, and there make one at his "charming gratis " exhibi- tion. There used to be a crowd round the window in those days, of grinning, good-natured mechanics, who spelt the songs and spoke them out for the benefit of the company, and who received the points of humor with a general sympathizing roar. Where are these people now ? You never hear any laughing atHE. ; his pictures are a great deal too genteel for that--, poll e points of wit, which strike one as exceedingly clever and of wa^ ''''"^^ """^ ^° ""'^^ '" ^ '^''^^^' gentlemanlike kind
There must be no smiling with Cruikshank. A man who does not laugh outright is a dullard, and has no heart ; even the old aandy of sixty must have laughed at his own wondrous grotesque image as they say Louis Philippe did, who saw all the caricatures that were made of himself. And there are some of Cruikshank's designs which have the blessed faculty of creating laughter as often as you see them. As Di-o-orv says m the play, who is bidden by his master not to lau-h u^hile waiting at table-'' Don't" tell the story of Grouse in the Gui> room master, or I can't help laughing.'- Repeat that history evei so often and at the proper moment, l-onest Diogory is
hasVis ^^ ■ ^^T'^V"""' "^ ^^^"^^- ''^'^ ^^''-^ CruilTshank
'pn f ?S'''^ '".,^^'^ Gun-room." There h a fellow in the
JnelT f'LYT""''" ;'^'^\' ''^'''''- ^^ '''' ^P ^^^^^'^^i» little general, that has made us happy any time these sixteen years •
his huge mouth is a perpetual well of laughter— buckets full of fun can be drawn from it. We have fomied no s:- - " friend- ships as that boyish one of the man with the m(H:in. But though,, in our eyes, Mr. Cruikshank reached liis apogee some eighteen years since, it must not be imagined that such is really he case. Eighteen sets of children have since then learned to
be brought up in the same delightful faith. It is not the artist
GEORGE CRUIKSHAXK. ^gg
who fails, but the men who grow cold — the men, from whom the illusions (why illusions ? realities) of youth disappear one by one ; who have no leisure to be liappy, no blessed holidays, but only fresh cares at INIidsummer and Christmas, being the inevitable seasons which bring us bills instead of pleasures. Tom, who comes bounding home from school, has the doctor's account in his trunk, and his father goes to sleep at the panto- mime to which he takes him. Pater infdix^ you too have laughed at clown, and the magic wand of spangled harlequin ; what delightful enchantment did it wave around you, in the golden days " when George the Third was king ! " But our clown lies in his grave ; and our harlequin, Ellar, prince of how many enchanted islands, was he not at Bow Stieet the other day,* in his dirty, tattered, faded motley — seized as a law-breaker, for acting at a penny, theatre, after having well- nigh starved in the streets, where nobody would listen to his old guitar ? No one gave a shilling to bless him : not one of us who owe him so much.
We know not if Mr. Cruikshank will be very well pleased at finding his name in such company as that of Clown and Harlequin ; but he, like them, is certainly the children's friend. His drawings abound in feeling for these little ones, and hid- eous as in the course of his duty he is from time to time com- pelled to design them, he never sketches one without a certain pity for it, and imparting to the figure a certain grotesque grace. In happy schoolboys he revels ; plum-pudding and holidays his needle has engraved over and over again ; there is a design in one of the comic almanacs of some young gentle- men who are employed in administering to a schoolfellow the correction of the pump, which is as graceful and elegant as a drawing of Stothard. Dull books about children George Cruikshank makes bright with illustrations — there is one pub- lished by the ingenious and opulent Mr. Tegg. It is entitled " Mirth 'and Morality," the mirth being, for the most part, on the side of the designer — the morality, unexceptionable cer- tainly, the author's capital. Here are then, to these moralities, a smiling train of mirths supplied by George Cruikshank.. See yonder little fellows butterfly-hunting across a common 1 Such a light, brisk, air\-, gentlemanlike drawing was never made upon such a tiienie. Who, cries the author —
'■ Who has not chased the butterfly,
And crushed ito slendLr legs r.nd wings. And heaved a moralizing sigh :
Alas! liow frail are liuman things! "
* This was written in 1S40.
6oo • CRITICAL RE]' JEWS.
A very unexceptionable morality truly ; but it would have puzzled'another than (George Cruikshank to make mirth out of it as he has done. Away, surely not on the wings of these verses, Cruikshank's imagination begins to soar ; and he makes us three darling little men on a green common, backed by old f ami-houses, somewhere about May. A great mixture of blue and clouds in the air, a strong fresh breeze stirring, Tom's jacket flapping in the same, in order to bring down the insect queen or king of spring that is fluttering above him, — ■ he renders all this with a few strokes on a little block of wood not two inches square, upon which one may gaze for hours, so merry and life-like a scene doe^ it present. What a charming creative power is this, what a privilege — to be a god, and create little worlds upon paper, and whole generations of smiling, jovial men, women, and children half inch high, whose portraits are, carried abroad, and have the faculty of making us monsters of six feet curious and happy in our turn. Now, who would imagine that an artist could make anything of such a subject as this? The writer begins by stating, —
" I love to go back to the days of my youth,
And to reckon my joys to the letter. And to count o'er the friends that 1 have in the world.
A}\ and lliose tvho arc ::;on,- to a better.^'
This brings him to the consideration of his uncle. *' Of all the men I have ever known,'" says he, "• my uncle united the greatest degree of cheerfulness with the sobriety of manhood Though a man when I was a bo}-, he was yet one of the most agreeable companions I ever possessed. * * * He embarked for America, and nearly twenty years passed by before he came back again; ''-' * * but oh, how altered! — he w-as m every sense of the word an old man, his body and mind were enfeebled, and second childishness had come upon him. How often have I bent over him, vainly endeavoring to recall to his memory the scenes we had shared together : and how fre- quently, With an aching heart, have I gazed on his vacant and lustreless eye, while he has amused himself in clapping his hands and singing with a quavering voice a verse of a psalm.'' Alas ! such are the consequences of long residences in America' and of old age even in uncles ! Well, the point of this mo- rality is, that th.e uncle one day in the morning of life vowed that he would catch his two nephews and tie them together, ay, and actually did so, for all the efforts the rogues made to run away from him ; but he was so fatigued that he declared he never would make the attempt again, whereupon the nephew
GEORGE CRUIKSFIANK. 60 1
remarks, — "Often since then, when engaged in enterprises be- yond my strength, have [ called to mind the determination of my uncle."
Does it not seem impossible to make a picture out of this ? And yet George Cruikshank has produced a charming design, in which the uncles and nephews are so prettily portrayed that one is reconciled to their existence, with all their moralities. Many more of the mirths in this little book are excellent, es- pecially a great figure of a parson entering church on horse- back,— an enormous parson truly, calm, unconscious, unwieldy. As Zeuxis had a bevy of virgins in order to make his famous picture — his express virgin — a clerical host must have passed under Cruikshank's eyes before he sketched this little enor- mous parson of parsons.
Being on the subject of children's books, how shall we enough praise the delightful German nursery-tales, and Cruik- shank's illustrations of them ? We coupled his name with pantomime awhile since, and sure never pantomimes were more charming than these. Of all the artists that ever drew, from Michael Angelo upwards and downwards, Cruikshank was the nan to illustrate these tales, and give them just the proper admixture of the grotesque, the wonderful, and the graceful. May all Mother Bunch's collection be similarly indebted to hnn ; may " Jack the Giant Killer," may " Tom Thumb," may " Puss in Boots," be one day revivified by his pencil. Is not Whittington sitting yet on Highgate Hill, and poor Cinderella (in the sweetest of all fairy stories) still pining in her lonely chimney nook t A man who has a true affection for these de- lightful companions of his youth is bound to be grateful to them if he can, and we pray Mr. Cruikshank to remember them.
It is folly to say that this or that kind of humor is too good for the public, that only a chosen few can relish it. The best humor that we know of has been as eagerly received by the public as by the most delicate connoisseur. There is hardly a man in England who can read but will laugh at Falstaff and the humor of Joseph Andrews ] and honest Mr. Pickwick's story can be felt and loved by any person above the age of six. Some may have a keener enjoyment of it than others, but all the world can be merry over it, and is always ready to welcome it. The best criterion of good-humor is success, and what a- share of this has Mr. Cruikshank had ! how many millions of mortals has he made happy I We have heard very profound persons talk philosophically of the marvellous and mysterious
5o2 CR/T/CAL RF.rrFAVS.
manner in wJuch lie li^s suilod liimself to the iwwc.—fait librer hifibrcpopulaire{As Napoleon boasted of himself), supplied a peculiar want felt at a peculiar period, the simple secret of which is, as we take it. that h.e, living amongst the public, has with them a general v.ide-hearted sympathy, that he laughs at what they laugh at, that he has a kindly spirit of enjoyment, with not a morsel of mysticism in his composition ; that he pities and loves the poor, and jokes at the follies of the great, and that he addresses all in a perfectly sincere and manly way. To be greath' successful as a professional humorist, as in an}- other calling, a man must be quite honest, and show that his heart is in his work. A bad preacher will get admiration and a hearing w-ith this point in his favor, where a man of thre^ times his acquirements will only find indifference and coldness. Is any man more remarkable than our artist for tellmg the truth after his own manner ? Hogarth's honesty of purpose was as conspicuous in an earlier time, and we fancy that Gilray would have been far more successful and more powerful but for that unhappy bribe, which turned the whole course of his humor into an unnatural channel. Cruik -hank would not for any bribe say what he did not think, or lend his aid to sneer down anything meritorious, or to praise any thing or person that deserved censure. When he levelled his wit against the Regent, and did his very prettiest for the Princess, he most certainly believed, along with the great body Oi; the people whom he represents, that the Princess was the most spotless, pure-mannered darling of a Princess that ever married a heart- less debauchee of a Prince Royal. Did not millions believe with him, and noble and learned lords take their oaths to her Royal Highness's innocence? Cruikshank would not stand by and see a woman ill-used, and so struck in for her rescue, he and the people belaboring with all their might the partv' who were making the attack, and determining, from pure sym- pathy and indignation, that the woman must be innocent be- cause her hu.sband treated her so foully.
To be sure we have never heard so much from Mr. Cruik- shank's own lips, but any man who will examine these old drawings, which first made him famous, will see what an hon- est, hearty hatred the champion of woman has for all wdio abuse her,' and wdll admire the energy with which he flings his wood-blocks at all who side against her. Canning, Castle- reagh, Bexley, Sidmouth, he is at them, one and all ; and as for the Prince, up to what a whippina;-post of ridicule did lie tie that unfortunate old man I ,\nd do not let squeamish
GEORGE CRUTKSHANK.
603
Tories cry out about disloyalty : if the crown does wrong, the crown must be corrected by the nation, out of respect, of course, for the crown. In those days, and by those people who so bitterly attacked the son, no word was ever breathed against the father, simply because he was a good husband, and a sober, thrifty, pious, orderly man.
This attack upon the Prince Regent we believe to have been Mr. Cruikshank's only effort as a party politician. Some early manifestoes against Napoleon we find, it is true, done in the regular John Bull style, with the Gilray model for the little upstart Corsican : but as soon as the Emperor had yielded to stern fortune our artist's heart relented (as Beranger's did on the other side of the water), and many of our reader will doubt- less recollect a fine drawing of " Louis XVIII. trying on Na- poleon's boots," which did not certainly fit the gouty son of Saint Louis. Such satirical hits as these, however, must not be considered as political, or as anything more that the expressioi» of the artist's national British idea of Frenchmen.
It must be confessed that for that great nation Mr. Cruik • shank entertains a considerable contempt. Let the reader ex- amine the '' Life in Paris," or the five-hundred designs in which Frenchmen are introduced, and he wdll find them almost invari- ably thin, with ludicrous spindle-shanks, pigtails, outstretched hands, shrugging shoulders, and queer hair and mustaches. He has the British idea of a Frenchman ; and if he does not believe that the inhabitants of France are for the most part dancing-masters and barbers, yet takes care not to depict such in preference, and would not speak too well of them. It is curious how these traditions endure. In France, at the pres- ent moment, the Englishman on the stage is the caricatured Englishman at the time of the w^ar, with a shock red head, a long white coat, and invariable gaiters. Those who wish to study this subject should peruse Monsieur Paul de Kock's histories of " Lord Boulingrog " and " Lady Crockmilove." On the other hand, the old emigre hzs taken his station amongst us, and we doubt if a good British gallery would understand that such and such a character ivas a Frenchman unless he appeared in the ancient traditional costume.
A curious book, called " Life in Paris," published in 1S22, contains a number of the arti: t"s plates in the aquatint style j and though we believe he has never been in that capital, the de- signs have a great deal of life in them, and pass muster very well. A villanous race of shoulder-shrugging mortals are his French- men indeed. And the heroes of the tale, a certain Mr. Dick
6o4 . CRITICAL RF.r/EirS.
Wildtire, Squire Jenkins, and Captain 0"Shuffleton, arc made to show the true British superiority, on every occasion when Britons and French are brought together. This book was one among the many that the designer's genius has caused to be popular; the plates -are not carefully executed, but, being col- ored, have a pleasant, lively look. The same style was adopted in the once famous book called " Tom and Jerry, or Life in London," which must have a word of notice here, for, although by no means Mr. Cruikshank's best work, his reputation was extraordinarily raised by it. Tom and Jerry were as popular twenty years since as Mr. Pick-wick and Sam Weller now are ; and often have we wished, while reading the biographies of the latter celebrated personages, that they had. been described as.. well by Mr. Cruikshank's pencil as by Mr. Dickens's pen.
As for Tom and Jerry, to show the mutability of human affairs and the evanescent nature of reputation, we have been to the British Museum and no less than five circulating libraries in quest of the book, and " Life in London," alas, is not to be found at any one of them. We can only, therefore, speak of the work from recollection, but have still a very clear remembrance of the leather-gaiters of Jerry Hawthorn, the green spectacles of Logic, and the hooked nose of Corinthian Tom. They were the schoolboy's delight ; and in the days when the work appeared we firmly believed the three heroes above named to be types of the most elegant, fashionable young fellows the town afforded, and thought their occupations and amusements were those of all high-bred English gentlemen. Tom knocking down the watchman at Temple Bar ; Tom and Jerry dancing at Almack's ; or fiirting in the saloon at the "theatre ; at the night-houses, after the play ; at Tom Cribb's,- examining the silver cup then in the possession of that cham- pion j at the chambers of Bob Logic, who, seated at a cabinet piano, plays a waltz to which Corinthian Tom and Kate are dancing ; ambling gallantly in Rotten Row ; or examining the poor fellow at Newgate who was having his chains knocked off before hanging : all these scenes remain indelibly engraved upon the mind, and so far we are independent of all the circu- lating libraries in London.
As to the literary con,tents of the book, they have passed sheer away. It w^as, most likely, not particularly refined ;. nay, .the chances are that it was absolutely vulgar. But it must" have had some merit of its own, that is clear ; it must have given striking descriptions of life in some part or other of Lon- don, for all London read it, and went to see it in its dramatic
GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. 605
shape. The artist, it is said, wished to close the career of the three heroes by bringing them all to ruin, but the writer, or pub- lishers, would not allow any such melancholy subjects to dash the merriment of the public, and we believe Tom, Jerry, and Logic, were married off at the end of the tale, as if they had been the most moral personages in the w^orld. There is some goodness in this pity, which authors and the public are disposed to show towards certain agreeable, disreputable characters ot romance. Who would mar the prospects of honest Roderick Random, or Charles Surface, or Tom Jones ? only a very stern moralist indeed. And in regard of Jerry Hawthorn and that hero without a surname, Corinthian Tom, Mr. Cruikshank, we make little doubt, was glad in his heart that he was not allowed to have his own way.
Soon after the "Tom and Jerfy'' and the "Life in Paris," Mr. Cruikshank produced a much more elaborate set of prints, in a work which was called " Points of Humor." These *' Points " were selected from various comic works, and did not, we believe, extend beyond a couple of numbers, containing about a score of copper-plates. The collector of humorous designs cannot fail to have them in his portfolio, for they con- tain some of the very best efforts of Mr. Cruikshank's genius, and though not quite so highly labored as some of his later pro- ductions, are none the worse, in our opinion, for their compara- tive want of finish. All the effects are perfectly given, and the expression is as good as it could be in the most delicare en- graving upon steel. The artist's style, too, was then completely formed ; and, for our parts, we should say that we preferred his manner of 1825 to any other which he has adopted since. The first picture, which is' called " The Point of Honor," illus- trates the old story of the ofBcer who, on being accused of cowardice for refusing to fight a duel, came among his brother officers and flung a lighted grenade down upon the floor, before which his comrades fled ignominiously. This design is capital, and the outward rush of heroes, walking, trampling, twisting, scuffling at the door, is in the best style of the grotesque. You see but^the back of these gentlemen ; into v/hich, nevertheless, the artist has managed to throw an expression of ludicrous agony that one could scarcely have expected to find in such a part of the human figure. The next plate is not less good. It represents a couple who, having been found one night npsy, and lying in the same gutter, were, by a charitable though mis- guided gentleman, supposed to be man and wife, and put comfortably to bed together. The morning came ; fancy the
6o6 CRITICAL RF. VIEWS.
surprise of this interesting pair when they awoke and discovered their situation. Fancy the manner, too, in which Cruikshanl< has depicted them, to which words cannot do justice. It \\ needless to state that this fortuitous and temporary union was followed by one more lasting and sentimental, and that these ; two worthy persons were married, and lived happily ever after.
We should like to go through every one of these prints. There : is the jolly miller, who, returning home at night, calls upon his; wife to get him a supper, and falls to upon rashers of bacon i and ale. How he gormandizes, that jolly miller ! rasher after: rasher, how they pass away , frizzling and smoking from the: gridiron down that immense grinning gulf of a mouth. Poon wife! how she pines and frets, at that untimely hour of mid*' night to be obliged to fry, fry, fry perpetually, and minister tdi the monster's appetite. And yonder in the clock : what agon>| ized face is that we see ? By heavens, it is the squire of the parish. What business has he there t Let us not ask. Suffice it to say, that he has, in the hurry of the moment, left up stairs-
his br ; his — psha ! a part of his dress, in short, with a
number of bank-notes in the pockets. Look in the next page, and you will see the ferocious, bacon-devouring ruffian of ai miller is actually causing this garment to be carried through the village and cried by the town-crier. And we blush to be obliged : to say that the demoralized miller never offered to return the bank-notes, although he was so mighty scrupulous in endeavor ing to find an owner for the corduroy portfolio in which he had found them.
Passing from this painful subject, we come, we regret to state, to a series of prints representing personages not a \vhit' more moral. Burns's famous " Jolly Beggars " have all had: their portraits drawn by Cruikshank. There is the lovely* '' hempen widow," quite as interesting and romantic as the famous Mrs. Sheppard, who has at the lamented demise of her husband adopted the very same consolation.
" My curse upon tliem every one,
They've hanged my braw John Highlandinan;
* ' * * * *
And now a widow I must mourn
Departed joys tliat ne'er return ;
No comfort but a hearty can
When I think on John Higlilandman."
Sweet " raucle carlin,-' she has none of the sentimentality of i the English highwaymen's lady ; but being wooed by a tinker and
" A pigmy scraper wi" his fiddle
Wh.T. us'd to trvstes and fairs to driddle,"'
GEORGE CRUIKSIJAXK. 607
prefers the practical to the merely musical man. The tinker sings with a noble candor, worthy of a fellow of his strength of body and station in life —
" My bonnie lass, I work in brass,
A tinker is my station : I've travell'd round all Christian ground
In this my occupation. I've ta'en the gold, I've been enroll'd ,
In many a noble squadron ; But vain they search'd when off I march'd
To go an' clout the caudron."
It was his ruling passion. What was military glory to him, for- sooth ? He had the greatest contempt for it, and loved freedom and his copper kettle a thousand times better — a kind of hard- ware Diogenes. Of fiddling he has no better opinion. The picture represents the " sturdy caird " taking " poor gut- scraper " by the beard, — drawing his " roosty rapier," and swearing to "speet him like a pliver'' unless he would relin- quish the bonnie lassie forever —
" Wi' ghastly ee, poor tweedle-dee Upon his hunkers bended, An' pray'd for grace wi' ruefu' face, An' so the quarrel ended."
Hark how the tinker apostrophizes the violinist, stating to the widow at the same time the advantages which she might expect from an alliance with himself : —
" Despise that shrimp, that withered imp, Wi' a' his noise and caperin' : And take a share with those that bear The budget and the apron !
'And by that stowp, my faith an' houpe,
An' by that dear Kiibaigie ! If e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant, May I ne'er weet my craigie."
Cruikshank's caird is a noble creature ; his face and figure show him to be fully capable of doing and saying all that is above written of him.
In the second part, the old tale of " The Three Hunchbacked Fiddlers " is illustrated with equal felicity. The famous classical dinners and duel in " Peregrine Pickle " are also excellent in their way ; and the connoisseur of prints and etchings may see in the latter plate, and in another in this volume, how great the artist's mechanical skill is as an etcher. The distant view of the city in the duel, and of a market-place in " The Quack Doctor," are delightful specimens of the artist's skill in depicting build- ings and backgrounds. They are touched with a grace, truth,
6o8
CRITICAL REVIEWS.
and dexterity of workmanship that leave nothmg to desire. We have before mentioned the man with the mouth, which_ appears in this number emblematical of gout and mdigestion, ni which the artist has shown all the fancy of Callot. Little demons, with long saws for noses, are making dreadful incisions into the toes of the unhappy sufferer; some are bringing pans o hofc coals to keep the wounded member warm; a huge, solemn nio-htmare sits on the invalid's chest, staring solemnly into his eves • a monster, with a pair of drumsticks, is banging a , devil's tattoo on his forehead : .and a pair of imps are naihng • great tenpenny nails into his hands to make his happmess
^^"^TheTate Mr. Clark's excellent work, '^ Three Courses and a Dessert," was published at a time when the rage for comic stories was not so great as it since has been, and Messrs^ Clark and Cruikshank only sold their hundreds where Messrs. Dickens and Phiz dispose of their thousands. But if our recommenda^ tion can in any way influence the reader, we would enjom him to have a copy of the " Three Courses/' that contams some of the best designs of our artist, and some of the most amusmg tales in our language. The invention of the pictures, for which Mr. Clark takes credit to himself, says a great deal for his wit and fancy. Can we, for instance, praise too highly the man who invented that wonderful oyster ? , , . ,. ^ J
Examine him well ; his beard, his pearl, his little round stomach, and his sweet smile. Only oysters know how to smile in this way ; cool, gentle, waggish, and yet inexpressibly' innocent and winning. Dando himself must have allowed such ^ an artless native to go free, and consigned him to the glassy, cool, translucent wave again. . , ' . . ,
In writing upon such subjects as these with which we have been furnished, it can hardly be expected that we should fol- low any fixed plan and order— we must therefore take such ad- vantage as we may, and seize upon our subject when and wherever we can lay hold of him. tit
For Tews, sailors, Irishmen, Hessian boots, little boys, beadles, 'policemen, tall life-guardsmen, charity children, pumps, dustmen, very short pantaloons, dandies in spectacles and ladies with aquiline noses, remarkably taper waists, and wonderfully long ringlets, Mr. Cruikshank has a special predi- lection. The tribe of Israelites he has studied with amazing gusto; witness the Jew in Mr. Ainsworth's "Jack Sheppard, Ind the immortal Fagin of " Oliver Twist." thereabouts lies the comic vis in these persons and things ? Why should a
CJ'.ORlJE CKL-/K'SnAXK
G09
beadle be comic, and his opposite a charity boy ? Why should a tall life-guardsman have something in him essentially absurd \ Why are short breeches more ridiculous than long? What is there particularly jocose about a pump, and wherefore does a long nose always provoke the beholder to laughter ? These points may be metaphysically elucidated by those who list. It is probable that Mr, Cruikshank could not give an accurate definition of that which is ridiculous in these objects, but his instinct has told him that fun lurks in them, and cold must be the heart that can pass by the pantaloons of his charity boys, the Hessian boots of his dandies, and the fan-tail hats of his dustmen, without respectful wonder.
He has made a complete little gallery of dustmen. There is, in the first place, the professional dustman, who, having in the enthusiastic exercise of his delightful trade, laid hands upon property not strictly his own, is pursued, we presume, by the right owner, from whom he flies as fast as his crooked shanks will carry him.
What a curious picture it is — the horrid rickety houses in some dingy suburb of London, the grinning cobbler, the smothered butcher, the very trees which are covered with dust — it is fine to look at the different expressions of the two in- teresting fugitives. The fiery charioteer who belabors the poor donkey has still a glance for his brother on foot, on whom Vpunishment is about to descend. And not a little curious is it to think of the creative power of the man who has arranged this little tale of low life. How logically it is conducted, how cleverly each one of the accessories is made to contribute to the effect of the whole. What a deal of thought and humor has the artist expended on this little block of wood ; a large picture might have been painted out of the very same materials, which Mr. Cruikshank, out of his wondrous fund of merri- ' ment and observation, can afford to throw away upon a draw- ing not two inches long. From the practical dustmen we pass to those purely poetical. There are three of them who rise on clouds of their own raising, the very genii of the sack and shovel.
Is there no one to write a sonnet to these ? — and yet a whole poem was written about Peter Bell the Wagoner, a character by no means so poetic.
And lastly, M^e have the dustman in love : the honest fellow having seen a young beauty stepping out of a gin shop on a Sun- day morning, is pressing eagerly his suit.
' Gin has furnished many subjects to Mr. Cruikshank, who
39
6io
CRI TIC A L RE I 'IE VVS.
labors 'in his own sound and hearty way to teach his country- , men the dangers of that drink. In the " Sketch-Book " is a plate upon the subject, remarkable for fancy and beauty of desio-n : it is called the " Gin Juggernaut," and represents a hideous moving palace, with a reeking still at the roof and vast o-in-barrels for wheels, under which unhappy millions are crashed to death. An immense black cloud of desolation covers over the country through which the gin monster has passed, dimly looming through the darkness whereof you see an a^n-eeable prospect of gibbets with men dangling, burnt houses, &c. The vast cloud comes sweeping on in the wake of this horrible body-crusher ; and you see, by way of contrast, a distant, smiling, sunshiny tract of old English country, where crin as yet is not known. The allegory is as good, as earnest, and as fanciful as one of John Bunyan's, and we have often fancied there was a similarity between the men.
The reader will examine the work called " My Sketch- Book " with not a little amusement, and may gather from it, as we fancy, a good deal of information regarding the character of the individual man, George Cruikshank : what points strike his eve as a painter ; what move his anger or admiration as a moValist ; what classes he seems most especially disposea to observe, and what to ridicule. There are quacks of all kinds, to whom he has a mortal hatred ; quack dandies who assume under his pencil, perhaps in his eye, the most grotesque appearance possible— their hats grow larger, their legs mhnitely more crooked and lean ; the tassels of their canes swell out to a most preposterous size ; the tails of their coats dwindle away, and finish where coat-tails generally begin. Let us lay a wager that Cruikshank, a man of the people if ever there was one, heartily hates and depises these supercilious, swaggering young ; gentlemen ; and his contempt is not a whit the less laudable • because there may be tant soit pen of prejudice m it. It is, rio-ht and wholesome to scorn dandies, as Nelson said it was to > hate Frenchmen ; in which sentiment (as we have before said) | George Cruikshank undoubtedly shares. In the "Sunday in London," * Monsieur the Chef is instructing a kitchen-maid I
following Unes-ever f,esh-by the author of - Headlong Halh" P^V^/^/hed ye.^^ ) Globe and Traveller, are an excellent ccminient on several of the cuts from the
* The Rgo in the "Sunday in London : " —
II.
The poor man's sin^ are glaring ; I " The rich ma. '^ sins are Wdde°
In the face of ghostly warning In the pomp of wealth and station,
He is caught in the fact 1 And escape tlie sjgln
Of an overt act, Buying greens on Sunday morning
Of an overt act I Of the children of light,
..: r.r/nc on <^Mnrl.v morning. Who are wise in the.r generation.
CE OR GE L 'A' C'/A'SJ/A A' A'. 5 j I
how to compound some rascally French kickshaw or the other —a pretty scoundrel truly! with what an air he wears that nightcap of his, and shrugs his lank shoulders, and chatters, and ogles, and grins : they are all the same, these mounseers ; there are other two fellows — nwrbleu ! oxi^ is putting his dirty fingers into the saucepan ; there are frogs cooking in it, no doubt ; and just over some other dish of abomination, anothef dirty rascal is taking snuff ! Never mind, the sauce won't be hurt by a few ingredients more or less. Three such fellows as these are not worth one Englishman, that's clear. There is one in the very midst of them, the great burly fellow v/ith the beef : he could beat all three in five minutes. We cannot be certain that such was the process going on in Mr. Cruikshank's mind when he made the design ; but some feelings of the sort were no doubt entertained by him.
Against dandy footmen he is particularly severe. He hates idlers, pretenders, boasters, and punishes these fellows as best he may. Who does not recollect the famous picture, " What is Taxes, Thomas .' " What is taxes indeed ; well may that vast, over-fed, lounging flunkey ask the question of his associate Thomas : and yet not well, for all that'lliomas sa3^s in reply is, '^ I divit kfiowT '• O hdciti pliishirolcE,'' what a charming state of ignorance is yours ! In the " Sketch-Book " many foo? men make their appearance : one is a huge fat Hercules of a Portman Square porter, who calmly surveys another poor fel- low, a porter likewise, but out of livery, who comes staggering forward with a box that Hercules might lift with his little finger. Will Hercules do so ? not he. The giant can carry nothing heavier than a cocked-hat note on a silver tray, and his labors are to walk from his sentry-box to the door, and from the door back to his sentry-box, and to read the Sunday paper, and to poke the hall fire twice or thrice, and to make five meals a day. Such a fellow does Cruikshank hate and scorn worse even than a Frenchman.
The rich man has a kitchen, "The rich man has a cellai,
And cooks 10 dress his dinner ; And a ready butler by him ;
The poor who would roast, The poor must steer
To the baker's must post, 1 For his pint of beer
And thus becomes a sinner. Where the saint can't choose but spy hioi
IV. VI.
* The rich man's painted windows '• The rich man is invisible
Hide the concert's of the quality ; I In the crowd of his gay society
The poor can but share I But the poor man's delight
A crack'd tiddle in the air, ' Is a sore in the sieht
Which offends all sound morality. j And a stench in the nose of piety."
^j2 CRITICAL RECIKWS.
The man's master, too, comes in tor no ^mall share of oui artist's wrath. Inhere is a company of them at church, who humbly designate th.emselves '' miserable sinners ! "' Miserable sinners indeed ! Oh, what floods of turtle-soup, what tons ot turbot and lobster-sauce must have been sncrillced to make those sinners properly miserable. ^\\ lady with the ermuie tippet and dra^^-^^lin':^ feather, can we not see that she lives in Portland PlaceTand is the wife of an East India Director ? She has been to the Opera over-uight (indeed her husband, on her ri'Tht, with his fat hand dan-lino- over the pew-door, is at this mmute thinkino" of Mademoiselle Leocadie, whom he saw oe- hind the scenes)— she has been at the Opera over-night, which with a trifle of supper afterwards— a white-and-brown soup, a lobster-salad, some woodcocks, and a little champagne— sent her to bed quite comfortable. At half-past eight her maid brino-s her chocolate in bed, at ten she has fresh eggs and ~ mufifins. with, perhaps, a half-hundred of prawns for breakfast, and so can-get over the day and the sermon till lunch-tnne pretty well. What an odor of musk and bergamot exhales from the pew !— how it is wadded, and stuffed, and spangled over with brass nails! what hassocks are therefor those who are not too fat to kneel ! what a flustering and flapping of gilt praver-books ; and what a pious whirring of bible leaves one hears all over the church, as the doctor blandly gives out the text ! To be miserable at this rate you must, at the very least, have four thousand a year : and many persons are there so en- amored of grief and sin, that they would willingly take the risk of the misery to have a life-interest in the consols that accom- pany it, quite careless about consequences, and skeptical as to the notion that a day is at hand when you must fulfil yoixr share of the bargain.
Our artist loves to joke at a soldier ; in whose livery there appears to him to be something almost as ridiculous ^^s ui the uniform of the gentleman of the shoulder-knot. _ Tall lite- o-uardsmen and fierce grenadiers figure in many of his designs, and almost always in a ridiculous way Here again we have the honest popular English feeling which jeers at pomp or pre- tension of all kinds, and is especially jealous of all display ot military authority. " Raw Recruit,'' '' ditto dressed, ditto "served up." as we see them in the "Sketch-Book, are so many satires upon the army : Hodge with his ribbons flaunting in his hat, or with red coat and musket, drilled stiff and pom- pous, or at last, minus leg and arm, tottering about on crutches, does not fill our English artist with the enthusiasm that
GEORGE CRL'/KS/IA.VA'.
613
follows the soldier in every other part of Europe, Jean- jean, the conscript in France, is laughed at to be sure, but then it is because he is a bad soldier ; when he comes to have a huge pair of mustaches and the croix-d'' honneur to driller on his poitrine dcafrlsec, Jeanjean becomes a member of a class that is more respected than any other in the French nation. The vet- eran soldier inspires our people with no such awe — we hold that democratic weapon the fist in much more honor than sabre and bayonet, and laugh at a man tricked out in scarlet and pipe-clay.
That regiment of heroes is " marching to divine service," to the tune of the " British Grenadiers." There they march in state, and a pretty contempt our artist shows for all their gimcracks and trumpery. He has drawn, a perfectly English scene — the little blackguard boys are playing pranks round about the men, and shouting, " Heads up, soldier," " Eyes right, lobster," as little British urchins will do. Did one ever hear the like sentiments expressed in France .'' Shade of Na- poleon, we insult you by asking the question. In England, however, see how different the case is : and designedly or un- designedly, :he artist has opened to us a piece of his mind. In the crowd the onh'' person who admires the soldiers is the poor idiot, whose pocket a rogue is picking. There is another pic- ture, in which the sentiment is much the same, onh', as in the former drawing we see Englishmen laughing at the troops of the line, here are Irishmen giggling at the militia.
We have said that our artist has a great love for the droll- eries of the Green Island. Would any one doubt what was the country of the merry fellows depicted in his group of Paddies .''
" Place me amid O'Rourkes, O'Tooles, The rag:4ed royal race of Tara ; Or place me where Dick Martin rules The pathless wilds of Connemara."
We know not if Mr. Cruikshank has ever had any such good luck as to see the Irish in Ireland itself, but he certainly has obtained a knowledge of their looks, as if the country had been all his life familiar to him. Could Mr. O'Connell himself desire anytliing more national than the scene of a drunken row, or could Father Mathew have a better text to preach upon ? There is not a broken nose in the room that is not thoroughly Irish.
We have then a couple of compositions treated in a graver manner, as characteristic too as the other. We call attention
6i4 CRITICAL REVIEIVS
to the cdmical look of poor Teague, who has been pursued and beaten by the witch's stick, in order to point out also the singu- lar neatness of the workmanship, and the pretty fanciful little glimpse of landscape that the artist has introduced in the back- ground. Mr. Cruikshank has a fine eye for such homely land- scapes, and renders them with great delicacy and taste. Old villages, farm-yards, groups of stacks, queer chimneys, churches, gable-ended cottages, Elizabethan mansion-houses, and other old English scenes, he depicts with evident enthusiasm.
Famous books in their day were Cruikshank's "John Gil- pin" and " Epping Hunt;" for though our artist does not draw horses very scientifically, — to use a phrase of the atelier, — he feels them very keenly ; and his queer animals, after one is used to them, answer quite as well as better. Neither is he very happy in trees, ancl such rustical produce ; or rather, vve should say, he is very original, his trees being decidedly of his . own make and composition, not imitated from any master.
But what then 1 Can a man be supposed to imitate every- thing ? We know what the noblest study of mankind is, and to this Mr. Cruikshank has confined himself. That postilion with the people in the broken-down chaise roaring after him is as deaf as the post by which he passes. Suppose all the ac- cessories were away, could not one swear that the man was stone-deaf, beyond the reach of trumpet } What is the pecu- liar character in a deaf man's physiognomy ? — can any person define it satisfactorily in words ? — not in pages ; and \lx. Cruik- shank has expressed it on a piece of paper not so big as the tenth part of your thumb-nail. The horses of John Gilpin are much more of the equestrian order ; and as here the artist has only his favorite suburban buildings to draw, not a word is to be said against his design. The inn and old buildings are charmingly designed, and nothing can be more prettily or play- fully touched.
"At Edmonton his loving wife From the balcony spied Her tender husband, wond'ring much To see how he did ride.
" ' Stop, stop, John Gilpin ! Here's the house I They all at once did cry ; *The dinner waits, and we are tired — ' Said Gilpin — ' So am I ! '
'* Six gentlemen upon the road Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With post-boy scamp' ring in the rear. They raised the hue and cry : —
GEORGE CRUIKSIfANK'.
" Stop thief! stop thief! — .i liigliway nia. Not one of them was mute ; And all and each that passed that way Did join in the pursuit.
" And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short space : The toji-men thinking, as before, That Gilpin rode a race."
615
The rush, and shouting, and clatter are excellc-ntly depicted by the artist ; and we, who have been scoffing at his manner of designing animals, must here make a special exception in favor of the hens and chickens ; each has a different action, and is curiously natural.
Happy are the children of all ages who have such a ballad and such pictures as this in store for them ! It is a comfort to think that wood-cuts never wear out, and that the book still may be had for a shilling, for those who can command that sum of money.
In the '' Epping Hunt," which we owe to the facetious pen of Mr. Hood, our artist had not been so successful. There is here too much horsemanship and not enough incident for him ; but the portrait of Roundings the huntsman is an excellent sketch, and a couple of the designs contain great humor. The first represents the Cockney hero, who, " like a bird, was sing- ing out while sitting on a tree."
And in the secontl the natural order is reversed. The stag having taken heart, is hunting the huntsman, and the Cheapside Nimrod is most ignominiously running awa}'.
The Piaster Hunt, we are told, is no more ; and as the Qua7'terly Review recommends the British public to purchase Mr. Catlin's pictures, as they form the only record of an inter- esting race now rapidly passing awav, in like manner we should exhort all our friends to purchase Mr. Cruickshank's designs of another interesting race, that is run already and for the last time.
Besides these, we must mention, in the line of our duty, the notable tragedies of "Tom Thumb" and " Bombastes Furi- oso," both of which have appeared with many illustrations by Mr. Cruikshank. The " brave army " of Bombastes exhibit's a terrific display of brutal force, which must shock the sensi- bilities of an English Radical. And we can well understand the caution ofthe general, who bids this soldatesque effmere to begone, and not to kick up a row.
Such a troop of lawless ruffians let loose upon a populous city would play sad havoc in it ; and we fancy the massacres of
6i6 CRITICAL KKCIEIVS.
Birmingham renewed, o?at least of Badajoz, which, though not quite so dreadful, if we may believe his Grace the Duke of Wellington, as the former scenes of slaughter, were neverthe- less severe enough : but we must not venture upon any ill- timed pleasantries in presence of the disturbed King Arthut and the awful ghost of Gaffer Thumb.
Vv'e are thus carried at. once into the supernatural, and here we find Cruikshank reigning supreme. He has invented in his time a liltle comic pandemonium, peopled with the most droll, good-natured fiends possible. We have before us Chamisso's '' Peter Schlemihl," with Cruil^hank's designs translated into German, and gaining nothing by the change. The " Kinder und Hans-Maerchen " of Grimm are likewise ornamented with a frontispiece, copied from that one which appeared to the amusing version of the English work. The books on Phrenol- ogy and Time have been imitated by the same nation ; and even in France, whither reputation travels slower than to any country except China, we have seen copies of the works of George Cruikshank.
He in return has complimented the French by illustrating a couple of Lives of Napoleon, and the " Life in Paris " before mentioned. He has also made designs for Victor Hugo's " Hans of Iceland." Strange, wild etchings were those, on a strange, mad subject ; not so good in our notion as the designs for the German books, the peculiar humor of which latter seemed to suit the artist exactly. There is a mixture of the awful and the ridiculous in these, which perpetually excites and keeps awake the reader's attention ; the German writer and the English artist seem to have an entire faith in their sub- ject. The reader, no doubt, remembers the awful passage in. " Peter Schlemihl," where the little gentleman purchases the shadow of that hero — " Have the kindness, noble sir, to ex- amine and try this bag." " He put his hand into his pocket, and drew thence a tolerably large bag of Cordovan leather, to which a couple of thongs were fixed. I took it from him, and immediately counted out ten gold pieces, and ten more, and ten more, and still other ten, whereupon I held out my hand to him. Done, said I, it is a bargain ; you shall have my shadow for your bag. The bargain was concluded ; he knelt dov/n before me, and 1 saw him with a wonderful neatness take my shadow from head to foot, lightly lift it up from the grass, roll and fold it up neatly, and at last pocket it. He then rose up, bowed to me once more, and walked away again, disappearing behind the rose-bushes. I don't know, but I thou2:ht I heard
GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. 617
him laughing a little. I, however, kept fast hold of the bag. lM-er3^thing around me was bright in the sun, and as yet I gave no thought to vvhat I had done."
This marvellous event, narrated by Peter with such a faith- ful, circumstantial detail, is painted by Cruikshank in the most wonderful poetic way, with that happy mixture of the real and supernatural that makes the narrative so curious, and like truth. The sun is shining with the utmost brilliancy in a great quiet park or garden ; there is a palace m the background, and a statue basking in the sun quite lonely and melancholy ; there is a sun-dial, on which is a deep shadow, and in the front stands Peter Schlemihl, bag in hand : the old gentleman is down on his knees to him, and has just lifted off the ground the shadow of one leg ; he is going to fold it back neatly, as one does the tails of a coat, and will show it, without any creases or crumples, along with the other black garments that lie in that immense pocket of his. Cruikshank has designed all this as if he had a very serious belief in the story ; he laughs, to be sure, but one fancies that he is a little frightened in his heart, in spite of all his fun and joking.
The German tales w-e have mentioned before. " The Prince riding on the Fox," " Hans in Luck,'' '' The Fiddler and his Goose," "Heads cff," are all drawings which, albeit not be- fore us now, nor seen for ten years, remain indelibly fixed on the memory, " Heisst dii etwa Rumpelstilzchen ? " There sits the Queen on her throne, surrounded by grinning beef-eaters, and little Rumpelstiltskin stamps his foot through the floor in the excess of his tremendous despair. In one of these Ger- man tales, if we remember rightly, there is an account of a little orphan who is carried away by a pitying fairy for a term of seven years, and passing that period of sweet apprenticeship among the imps and sprites of fair}'-land. Has* our artist iDeen among the same company, and brought back their por- traits in his sketch-book.'' He is the only designer fairy-land has had. Callot's imps, for all their strangeness, are only of the earth earthy. Fuseli's fairies belong to the infernal re- gions ; they are monstrous, lurid, and hideously melancholy. Mr Cruikshank alone has had a true insight into the character of the '• little people." They are something like men and wo- men, and yet not flesh and blood ; they are laughing and mis- chievous, but why we knOw not. Mr. Cruikshank, however, has had some dream or the other, or else a natural mysterious instinct (as the Seherinn of Prevorst had for beholding ghosts\ or else some preternatural fairy revelation, which has made
TmS CK/7YCAL RF. VIEWS.
liim acquainted with the looks and ways of the fantastical sul> jects of Oberon and Titania,
We have, unfortunately, no fairy portraits ; but, oh the other hand, can descend lower than fairy-land, and have seen fiome fine specimens of devils. One has already been raised, and the reader has seen him tempting a fat Dutch burgom.aster in an ancient gloomy market-place, such as George Cruik- shank can draw as well as Mr. Prout, Mr. Nash, or any man living. There is our friend once more ; our friend the bur gomaster, in a highly excited state, and running as hard as his great legs will carry him, with our mutual enemy at his tail.
What are the bets : will that lonsf-les^ged bond-holder of a devil come up with the honest Dutchman ? It serves him right ; why did he put his name to stamped paper? And yet we should not wonder if some lucky chance should turn up in the burgomaster's favor, and his infernal creditor lose his labor ; ,for one so proverbially cunning as yonder tall individual with the saucer eyes, it must be confessed that he has been very often outwitted.
There is, for instance, the case of " The Gentleman in Black," which has been illustrated by our artist. A young French gentleman, by name AT Desonge, who having ex- pended his patrimony in a variety of taverns and gaming-houses, was one day pondering upon the exhausted state of his finances, and utterly at a loss to think how he should provide means for future support, exclaimed, very naturally, "What the devil shall I do ? " He had no sooner spoken than a Gentleman in Black made his appearance, whose authentic portrait Mr. Cruikshank has had the honor to paint. This gentleman produced a black- edged book out of a black bag, some black-edged papers tied up with black crape, and sitting down familiarly opposite M. Desonge, began conversing with him on the state of his affairs.
It is needless to state what was the result of the interview. M. Desonge was induced by the gentleman to sign his name to one of the black-edged papers, and found himself at the close of the conversation to be possessed of an unlimited command of capital. This arrangement completed, the Gentleman in Black posted (in an extraordinary rapid manner) from Paris to London, there found a young English merchant in exactly the same situation in which M. Desonge had been, and concluded a bargain v.ith the Briton of exactly the same nature.
The book goes on to relate how these young men spent the money so miraculously handed over to them, and how both, when'the period drew near that was to witness the performance
CFA)RGE CRClKSI/AiVK. ■ gif)
of their part of the bargain, grew melancholy, wretched, nay, so absolutely dishonorable as to seek for every means of breakinir through their agreement. The Englishman living in a country where the lawyers are more astute than any other lawyers" ni the world, took the advice of a Mr. Bagsby, of Lyon's Inn ; whose name, as we cannot find it in the " Law List," we presume to be fictitious. Who could it be that was a match for the
devil i Lord very likely ; we shall not give his name, but
let every reader of this Review fill up the blank according to his own fancy, and on comparing it with the copy purchased by his neighbors, he will find that fifteen out of twenty have -writ- ten down the same honored name.
Well, the Gentleman in Black was anxious for the fulfilment of his bond. The parties met at Mr. Bagsby's chambers to consult, the Black Gentleman foolishly thinking that he could act as his own counsel, and fearing no attorney alive. But mark the superiority of British law, and see how the black pettifog- ger was defeated.
Mr. Bagsby simply stated that he would take the case into Chancery, and his antagonist, utterly humiliated and defeated, refused to move a step farther in the matter.
And now the French gentleman, M. Desonge, hearing of his friend's escape, became anxious to be free from his own rash engagements. Lie employed the same counsel who had been successful in the former instance, but the Gentleman in Black was a great deal wiser by this time, and whether M. Desonge escaped, or whether he is now in that extensive place which is paved with good intentions, we shall not say. Those wdio. are anxious to know had better purchase the book wherein all these interesting matters are duly set down. There is one more diabolical picture in our budget, engraved by Mr. Thompson, the same dexterous artist who has 'rendered the former diab- leries so well.
We may mention Mr. Thompson's name as among the first of the en2:ravers to whom Cruikshank's desi2:ns have been en- trusted ; and next to him (if we may be allowed to make such arbitrary distinctions) we may place Mr. Williams ; and the reader is not possibly aware of the immense difficulties to be overcome in the rendering of these little sketches, which, traced by the designer in a few hours, require weeks' labor from the engraver. Mr. Cruikshank has not been educated in the regular schools of drawing (very luckily for him, as we think), and con- sequently has had to make a manner for himself, which is quite unlike that of any other draftsman. There is nothing in the
620 CRITICAL REVIEWS.
least mechanical about it ; to produce his peculiar effects he uses his own particular lines, which are queer, free, fantastical, and must be followed in all their infinite twists and vagaries by the careful tool of the engraver. Those three lovely heads, for instance, imagined out of the rinds of lemons, are worth exam- ining, not so much for the jovial humor and wonderful variety of feature exhibited- in these darling countenances as for the engraver's part of the work. See the infinite delicate cross- lines and hatchings which he is obliged to render ; let him go, not a hair's breadth, but the hundredlh part of a hair's breadth, beyond the given line, and Xh&feelbig of it is' ruined. He re- ceives these little dots and specks, and fantastical quirks of the pencil, and cuts away with a little knife round each, not too much nor too little. Antonio's pound of flesh did not puzzle the Jew so much ; and so well does the engraver succeed at last, that we never remember to have met with a single artist who did not vow that the wood-cutter had utterly ruined his design.
Of Messrs. Thompson and Williams we have spoken as the first engravers in point of rank ; however, the regulations of professional precedence are certainly very difificult, and the rest of their brethren we shall not endeavor to class. Why should the artists who executed the cuts of the adniirable " Three Courses " yield \\i& pas to any one ?
There, for instance, is any engraving by Mr. Landells, nearly as good in our opinion as the very best wood-cut that ever was made after Cruikshank, and curiously happy in ren- dering the artist's peculiar manner : this cut does not come from the facetious publications which we have consulted ; but is a contribution by Mr. Cruikshank to an elaborate and splendid botanical work upon the Orchidaceae of Mexico, by Mr. Bateman. M. Bateman despatched some extremely choice roots of this valuable plant to a friend in England, who, on the arrival of the case, consigned it to his gardener to unpack. A great deal of anxiety with regard to the contents was manifested b}^ all concerned, but on the lid of the box being removed, there issued from it three or four fine specimens of the enormous Blatta beetle that had been preying upon the plants during the voyage ; against these the gardeners, the grooms, the porters, and the porters' children, issued forth in arms, and this scene the artist has immortalized.
We have spoken of the admirable way in which Mr. Cruik- shank has depicted Irish character and Cockney character ; English country character is quite as faithfully delineated in
GEORGE CKUIKSHANK. 62 1
the person of the stout porteress and her children, and of the '' Chawbacon " with the shovel, on whose face is written "Zum- merzetsheer." Chawbacon appears in another plate, or else Chawbacon's brother. He has come up to Lunnan, and is looking about him at raaces.
How distinct are these rustics from those whom we have just been examining ! They hang about the purlieus of the metropolis ; Brook Green, Epsom, Greenwich, Ascot, Good- wood, are their haunts. They visit London professionally once a year, and that is at the time of Bartholomew fair. How one may speculate upon the different degrees of rascality, as ex- hibited in each face of the thimblerigging trio, and from little histories for these worthies, charming Newgate romances, such as have been of late the fashion ! Is any man so blind that he cannot see the exact face that is writhing under the thimble- rigged hero's hat ? Like Timanthes of old, our artist ex presses great passions without the aid of the human counte- nance. There is another specimen — a street row of inebriated bottles. Is there any need of having a face after this .'' " Come on ! " says Claret-bottle, a dashing, genteel fellow, with his hat on one ear — " Come on ! has any man a mind to tap me ? " Claret-bottle is a little, screwed (as one may see by his legs), but full of gayety and courage ; not so that stout, apoplectic Bottle-of-rum, who has staggered against the wall, and has his hand upon his liver : the fellow hurts himself with smoking, that is clear, and is as sick as sick can be. See, Port is making away from the storm, and Double X is as flat as ditch-water. Against these, awful in their white robes, the sober watchmen come.
Our artist then can cover up faces, and yet show them quite clearly, as in the thimblerig group ; or he can do without faces altogether ; or he can, at a pinch, provide a countenance for a gentleman out of any given object — a beautiful Irish physi- ognomy being moulded upon a keg of whiskey ; and a jolly English countenance frothing out of a pot of ale (with the spirit of brave Toby Philpot come back to reanimate his clay) 5 while in a fungus may be recognized the physiognomy of a mushroom peer. Finally, if he is at a loss, he can make a living head, body, and legs out of steel or tortoise-sheil, as in the case of the vivacious pair of spectacles that are jockeying the nose of Caddy Cuddle.
Of late years Mr. Cruikshank has busied himself very much with steel engraving, and the consequences of that lucky invention have been, that his plates are now sold b;y
62 2 CRITICAL RECIEIVS.
thousands, 'where they could only be produced by hundreds be- fore. He has made many a bookseller's and author's fortune (we trust that in so doing he may not have neglected his own). Twelve admirable plates, furnished yearly to that facetious little publication, the Comic Almanac, have gained for it a sale, as we hear, of nearly twenty thousand copies. The idea of the work was novel. ; there was, in the first number especially, a great deal of comic power, and Cruikshank's designs were so admirable that the Almamic at once became a vast favorite with the public, and has so remained ever since.
Besides the twelve plates, this almanac contains a prophetic wood-cut, accompanying an awful Blarneyhum Astrologicum that appears in this and other almanacs. There is one that hints in pretty clear terms that with the Reform of Municipal Corporations the ruin of the great Lord Mayor of London is at hand. His lordship is meekly going to dine at an eight- penny ordinary, — his giants in pawn, his men in armor dwin- dled to '' one poor knight," his carriage to be sold, his stalwart aldermen vanished, his sheriffs, alas ! and alas ! in jail ! An- other design shows that Rigdum, if a true, is also a moral and instructive prophet. John Bull is asleep, or rather in a vision; the cunning demon. Speculation, blowing a thousand bright bubbles about him. Meanwhile the rooks are busy at his fob, a knave has cut a cruel hole in his pocket, a rattlesnake has coiled safe round his feet, and will in a trice swallow Bull, chair, money and all ; the rats are at his corn-bags (as if, poor devil, he had corn to spare) ; his faithful dog is bolting his leg of mutton — nay, a thief has gotten hold of his very candle, and there, by way of moral, is his ale-pot, which looks and winks in his face, and seems to say, O Bull, all this is froth, and a cruel satirical picture of a certain rustic who had a goose that laid certain golden eggs, which goose the rustic slew in expec- tation of finding all the eggs at once. This is goose and sage too, to borrow the pun of " learned Doctor Gill ; " but we shrewdly suspect that Mr. Cruikshank is becoming a little con- servative in his notions.
We love these pictures so that it is hard to part us, and we still fondly endeavor to hold on, but this wild word, farewell, must be spoken by the best friends at last, and so good-by, brave wood-cuts : we feel quite a sadness in coming to the last of our collection.
In the earlier numbers of the Comic Alma?iac all the man- ners and customs of Londoners that would afford food for fun were noted down ; and if during the last two years, the mys-
CEORCJ-: CK i 'I A 'SIIAXK.
623
terious personage who, under the title of '' Rigdum Funnidos/' compiles this ephemeris, has been compelled to resort to ro- mantic tales, we must suppose that he did so because the great metropolis was exhausted, and it was necessary to discover new worlds in the cloud-land of fancy. The character of Mr. Stubbs, who made his appearance in the Ahna?iac for 1839, had, we think, great merit, although his adventures were somewhat of too tragical a description to provoke pure laughter.
We should be glad to devote a few pages to the '' Illustra tions of Time,"' the " Scraps and Sketches," and the "Illustra- tions of Phrenology," which are among the most famous of our artist's publications ; but it is very difficult to find new terms of praise, as find them one must, when reviewing Mr. Ouik- shank's publications, and more difficult still (as the reader of this notice will no doubt have perceived for himself long since ) to translate his design into words, and go to the printer's box for a description of all that fun and humor which the artist can produce by a few skilful turns of his needle. A famous ar- ticle upon the " Illustrations of Time " appeared some dozen years since in B/ack7uood''s Magazine, of which the conductors have always been great admirers of our artist, as became men of honor and genius. To these grand qualities do not let it be supposedthat we are laying claim, but, thank heaven, Cruik- shank's humor is so good and benevolent that any man must love it, and on this score we may speak as well as another.
Then^'there are the '' Greenwich Hospital " designs, which must not be passed over. " Greenwich Hospital " is a hearty, good-natured book, in the Tom Dibdin school, treating of the virtues of British tars, in approved nautical language. They maul Frenchmen and Spaniards, they go put in brigs and take frigates, they relieve women in distress, and are yard-arm and yard-arming, athwart-hawsing, marlinspiking, binnacling, and helm's-a-leeing, as honest seamen invariably do, in novels, on the stage, and doubtless on board ship. This we cannot take upon us to say, but the artist, like a true Englishman, as he is, loves dearly these brave guardians of Old England, and chron- icles their rare or fanciful exploits with the greatest good-will. Let any one look at the noble head of Nelson in the " Family Library," and tliey will, we are sure, think with us that the designer must have felt and loved what he drew. There are to this abridgment of Southey's admirable book many more cuts after Gruikshank ; and about a dozen pieces by the same hand will he found in a work equally popular, Lockh art's eX'
62 4 CRIlrCAL REVIEWS.
cellent " Life of Napoleon." Among these the retreat from Moscow is very fine ; the Mamlouks most vigorous, furious, and barbarous, as they should be. At the end of these three volumes Mr. Cruikshank's contributions to the *• Family Li- brary " seem suddenly to have ceased.
We are not at all disposed to undervalue the works and genius of Mr. Dickens, and we are sure that he would admit as readily as any man the wonderful assistance that he has derived from the artist who has given us the portraits of his ideal per sonages, and made them familiar to all the world. Once seen, these figures remain impressed on the memory, which otherwise would have had no hold upon them, and the heroes and hero- ines of Boz become personal acquaintances with each of us. Oh, that Hogarth could have illustrated Fielding in the same way ! and fixed down on paper those grand figures of Parson Adams, and Squire Allworthy, and the great Jonathan Wild.
AVith regard to the modern romance of " Jack Sheppard," in which the latter personage makes a second appearance, it seems to us that Mr. Cruikshank really created the tale, and that Mr. Ainsworth, as it were, only put words to it. Let any reader of the novel think over it for a while, now that it is some months since he has perused and laid it down — let him think, and tell us what he remembers of the tale ? George Cruik- shank's pictures — always George Cruikshank's pictures. The storm in the Thames, for instance : all the author's labored description of that event has passed clean away — we have only before the mind's eye the fine plates of Cruikshank : the poor wretch cowering under the bridge arch, as the waves come rushing in, and the boats are whirling away in the drift" of the great swollen black waters. And let any man look at that second plate of the murder on the Thames, and he must ac- knowledge how much more brilliant the artist's description is than the writer's, and what a real genius for the terrible as well as for the ridiculous the former has ; how awful is the gloom of the old bridge, a few lights glimmering from the houses here and there, but not so as to be refiected on the water at all, which is too turbid and raging : a great heavy rack of clouds goes sweeping over the bridge, and men with flaring torches, the murderers, are borne away with the stream.
The author requires many pages to describe the fury of the storm, which Mr. Cruikshank has represented in one. First, he has to prepare you with the something inexpressibly melan- choly in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames : " the ripple of the v/ater," '• the darkling current," '' the indistinctively seen
GEORGE CRUIKSHAiVK. 625
craft," " the solemn shadows " and other phenomena visible on rivers at night are detailed (with not unskilful rhetoric) in order to bring the reader into a proper frame of mind for the deeper gloom and horror which is to ensue. Then follow pages of d\:scription. " As Rowland sprang to the helm, and gave the si ^nal for pursuit, a war like a volley of ordnance was heard aloft, and the wind again burst its bondage. A moment before, the surface of the stream was as black as ink. It was now w'litening, hissing, and seething, like an enormous cauldron, 'i'he blast once more swept over the agitated river, whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. Destruction everywhere marked the course of the gale. Steeples toppled and towers reeled beneath its fury. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. Men fled from their tottering habitations and returned to them, scared by greater danger. The end of the world seemed at hand. * * * 'plie hurricane had now reached its climax. The blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission. Stunning and continuous, the din seemed almost to take away the power of hearing. He who had faced the gale would have been instantly stifled,^'' &c., &c. See with what a tremendous war of words (and good loud words too ; Mr. Ainsworth's description is a good and spirited one) the author is obliged to pour in upon the reader before he can effect his purpose upon the latter, and inspire him with a proper tCiTor. The painter does it at a glance, and old Wood's dilemma in the midst of that tremendous storm, with the little infant at his bosom, is remembered afterwards, not from the words, but from the visible image of them that the artist has left us.
It woulcl not, perhaps, be out of place to glance through the whole of the " Jack Sheppard " plates, which are among the most finished and the most successful of Mr. Cruikshank's per- formances, and say a word or two concerning them. Let us begin with finding fault with No. i, '' ]Mr. Wood offers to adopt little Jack Sheppard." A poor print, on a poor subject ; the figure of the woman not as carefully designed as it might be, aid the expression of the eyes (not an uncommon fault with om* artist) much caricatured. The print is cut up, to use the artist's phrase, by the number of accessories which the engraver haj tliought proper, after the author's elaborate description, elaborately to reproduce. The plate of " Wild discovering Darrell in the loft" is admirable — ghastly, terrible, and the treatment of it extraordinarily skilful, minute, and bold. 'J'he
40
tzh CRITICAL REVIEWS.
intricacies 6f the tile-work, 'and the mysterious twinkling of light among the beams, are excellently felt and rendered ; and one sees here, as in the two next plates of the storm and mur- der, what a fine eye the artist has, what a skilful hand, and what a sympathy for the wild and dreadful. As a mere imita- tion of nature, the clouds and the bridge in the murder picture m:iy be examined by. painters who make far higher pretensions than Mr. Cruikshank. In point of workmanship they arc equally 'good, the manner quite unaffected, the effect produced without any violent contrast, the whole scene evidently well and philosophically arranged in the artist's brain, before he began to put it upon copper.
The famous drawing of ^'Jack carving the name on the 1:)eam," which has been transferred to half the play-biils in town, is tjverloaded with accessories, as the first plate ; but they are much better arranged than in the last-named engraving, and do, not injure the effect of the principal figure. Remark, too, t'.ie conscientiousness of the artist, and that shrewd pervading idea oiform which is one of his principal characteristics. Jack is surrounded by all sorts of implements of his profession ; he stands on a regular carpenter's table : away in the shadow under it lie shavings and a couple of carpenter's hammers. The glue-pot, the mallet, the chisel-handle, the planes, the saws, the hon.c with its cover, and the other paraphernalia are all rep- resented with extraordinary accuracy and forethought. The man's mind has retained the exact drawing of all these minute objects (unconsciously perhaps to himself), but we can see with what keen eyes he must go through the world, and what a fund of facts (as such a knowledge of the shape of objects is in his profession) this keen student of nature has stored away in his iDrain. In the next plate, where Jack is escaping from his mistress, the figure of that lady, one of the deepest of the ■jo.')'>:'(i)-(i'.. Strikes us as disagreeable and unrefined ; that of Winifred is, on the contrar}^, very pretty and graceful , and Jack's puzzled, slinking look must not be forgotten. All the accessories are good, and the apartment has a snug, cosy air ; which is not remarkable, except that it shows how faithfully the designer has performed his work, and how curiously he has en- tered into all particulars of the subject.
Master Thames Darrell, the handsome young man of the book is, in Mr. Ouikshank's portraits of him, no favorite of ours. . The lad seems to wish to make up for the natural in- :,ignificance of his face by frownin-^^ on all occasions most por- ♦^entously. This figure, borrowed from the compositor's desk,
vf^
ijEOKui: Cnl'/ksr/AXk'. ■ 627
will give a notion of what we mean. Wild's face is
too violent for the great man of history (if we may
1 call Fielding history), but this is in consonance with
the ranting, frowning, braggadocio character that Mr.
Ainsworth has given him.
The " Interior of Willesden Church " is excellent as a com- position, and a piece of artistical workmanship ; the groups are well arranged ; and the figure of Mrs. Sheppard looking around alarmed, as her son is robbing the dandy Kneebone, is charming, simple, and unaffected. Not so " Mrs. Sheppard ill in bed," whose face is screwed up to an expression vastly too tragic. The little glimpse of the church seen through the open door of the room is very beautiful and poetical : it is in such small hints that an artist especially excels ; they are the morals which he loves to append to his stories, and are always appropriate and welcome. The boozing ken is not to our liking ; Mrs. Sheppard is there with her horrified eyebrows again. Why this exaggeration — is it necessary for the public ? We think not, or if they require such excitement, let our artist, like a true painter as he is, teach them better things.*
The " Escape from Willesden Cage " is excellent ; the " Burglary in Wood's house '" has not less merit ; " Mrs. Shep- pard in Bedlam," a ghastly picture indeed, is finely conceived, Init not, as we fancy, so carefully executed ; it would be better for a little more careful drawing in the female figure.
" Jack sitting for his picture," is a ver}^ pleasing group, and savors of the manner of Hogarth, who is introduced in the company. The " Murder of Trenchard " must be noticed too as remarkable for the effect and terrible vigor which the artist has given to the scene. The " Willesden Churchyard " has great merit too, but the gems of the book are the little vig- nettes illustrating the escape from Newgate. Here, too, much anatomical care of drawing is not required ; the figures are so small that the outhne and attitude need only to be indicated, and the designer has produced a series of figures quite- remark- able for reality and poetry too. There are no less than ten cf Jack's feats so described by Mr. Cruikshank. (Let us say a
* A gentleman (whose wit is so celebrated that one should be very cautious in repeatinr; his stories) gave the writer a good illustration of the philosophy of exaggeration. Mr. - — was once behind the scenes at the Opera when the scene-shifters were preparing for the bal- let. Flora v.'as to sleep imder a bush, whereon were growing a number of roses, ai;cl amidst which was fluttering a gay covey of butterflies. In size the roses exceeded the mo^.t expansive sun-flnwers, and the butterflies were as large as cocked hats ;■ -the scene-shiffr
explained to Mr. , who asked the reason why everything was sn magnified, that t''"
galleries cnuld never see the objects unless they w-eje enormously exaggerated. How niai-^j of our writers and designers work for the galleries ?
628 CRITICAL REVIEWS.
word hete in praise of the excellent manner in which the author has carried us through the adventure.) Here is Jack clattering up the chimney, now peering into the lonely red room, now^ opening "the door between the red room and the chapel." What a wild, fierce, scared look he has, the young ruffian, as cautiously he steps in, holding light his bar of iron. You can see by his face how his heart is beating ! If any one were there ! but no ! And this is a very fine characteristic of the prints, the extreme loneliness of them all. Not a soul is there to disturb him — woe to him who should — and Jack drives in the chapel gate, and shatters' down the passage door, and there you have him on the leads. Up he goes ! it is but a spring of a few feet from the blanket, and he .is gone — abiit^ evasif, erupit ! Air. Wild must catch him again if he can.
We must not forget to mention " Oliver Twist," and Mr. Cruikshank's famous designs to that work."* The sausage scene at Fagin's, Nancy seizing the boy ; that capital piece of humor, Mr. Bumble's courtship, which is even better in Cruik- shank's version than in Boz's exquisite account of the inter- view ; Sykes's farewell to the dog ; and the Jew, — the dreadful Jew^ — that Cruikshank drew ! What a fine touching picture of melancholy desolation is that of Sykes and the dog ! The poor cur is not too well drawn, the landscape is stiff and formal ; but in this case the faults, if faults they be, of execu- tion rather add to than diminish the effect of the picture • it has a strange, wild, drear)', broken-hearted look ; we fancy we see the landscape as it must have appeared to Sykes, when ghastly and with bloodshot eyes he looked at it. As for the Jew in the dungeon, let us say nothing of it — what can we say to describe it ? What a fine homely poet is the man who can produce this little world of mirth or woe for us ! Does he elaborate his effects by slow process of thought, or do they come to him by instinct 'i Does the painter ever arrange in his brain an image so complete, that he afterwards can copy it exactly on the canvas, or does the hand work in spite of him ?
A great deal of this random work of course every artist has done in his time ; many men produce effects of which they never dreamed, and strike off excellences, haphazard, which gain for them reputation ; but a fine quality in Mr. Cruikshank, the quality of his success, as we have said before, is the extraor- dinary earnestness and good faith with which he executes all he attempts — the ludicrous, the polite, the low, the terrible. In
*■ Or his n"\v worl;. " Tlr- Tower of London," which promiscii even to 6i:»^>abi Mr Cruikshank'i former productions.
GEORCE CRC IKS HANK'. 629
the second of these he often, in our fancy, fails, nis figures lacking elegance and descending to caricature; but there is somethmg fine in this too : it is gco^l that he should iTiA, that he should have these honest naii'c. notions regarding the beau monde^ the characteristics of which a namby-pamby tea-party painter could hit off far better than he. He is a great deal too downright and manly to appreciate the flimsy delicacies of small society — you cannot expect a lion to roar you like any sucking dove, or frisk about a drawing-room like a lady's little spaniel.
If then, in the course of his life and business, he has been occasionally obliged to imitate the ways of such small animals, he has done so, let us say it at once, clumsily, and like as a lion should. Many artists, we hear, hold his works rather cheap ; they prate about bad drawing, want of scientific knowl- edge ; — they would have something vastly more neat, regular, anatomical.
Not one of the whole band most likely but can paint an Academy figure better than himself ; nay, or a portrait of an alderman's lady and family of children. But look down the list of the painters and tell us who are they ? How many among these men are poets (makers), possessing the faculty to create, the greatest among the gifts with which Providence has endowed the mind of man } Say how many there are, count up what they have done, and see what in the course of some nine-and-twenty years has been done by this indefatigable man.
What amazing energetic fecundity do we find in him ! As a boy he began to fight for bread, has been hungry (twice a day we trust) ever since, and has been obliged to sell his wit for his bread week by week. And his wit, sterling gold as it is, will find no such purchasers as the fashionable painter's thin pinchbeck, who can live comfortably for six weeks, when paid for and painting a portrait, and fancies his mind prodigi- ously occupied all the while. There was an artist in Paris, an artist hairdresser, who used to be fatigued and take restoratives after inventing a new coiffure. By no such gentle operation of head-dressing has Cruikshank lived : time was (we are told so in print) when for a picture with thirty heads in it he was paid three guineas — a poor week's pittance, truly, and a dire week's labor. We make no doubt that the same labor would at present bring him twenty times the sum ; but whether it be ill- paid or well, what labor has Mr. Cruikshank's been ! Week b}- week, for thirty years, to produce something new ; some smiling offspring of painful labor, quite indejjendent and dis-
630 CKITICAL REl'IKU'S.
tinct froip its ten thousafhd jovial brethren ; in what hours ot sorrow and ill-health to be told by the world, '' Make us laugh or you starve — Give us fresh fun ; we have eaten up the old and are hungry." And all this has he been obliged to do — to wring laughter day by day, sometimes, perhaps, out of want, often certainly from ill-health or depression — to keep the iire of his brain perpetually alight : for the greedy public will give it no leisure to cool. This he has done and done well. He has told a thousand truths in as many strange and fascinatin<; ways ; he has given a thousand new and jDleasant thoughts to millions of people ; he has neve^ used his wit dishonestly ; he has never,'in all the exuberance of his frolicsome humor, caused a single painful or guilty blush : how little do we think of the extraordinary power of this man, and how ungrateful we are to him !
Here, as we are come round to the charge of ingratitude, the starting-post from which we set out, perhaps we had better conclude. The reader will perhaps wonder at the high-flown tone m which we speak of the services and merits of an indi- vidual, whom he considers a humble scraper on steel, that is wonderfully popular already. But none of us remember all the benefits we owe him ; they have come one by one, one driving out the memory of the other . it is only when we come to ex- amine them altogether, as the writer has done, who has a pile of books on the table before him — a heap of personal kind- nesses from George Cruikshank (not presents, if you please, for we bought, borrowed, or stole every one of them) — that Ave feel what we owe him. Look at one of Mr. Cruikshank's. works, and we pronounce him an excellent humorist, • Look at all : his reputation is increased b}'- a kind of geometrical pro- gression ; as a whole diamond is a hundred times more valu- able than the hundred splinters into which it might be broken would be. A fine rough English diamond is this about which we have been writing.
JOHN LEECirs PICTURES. 03 1
JOHN LEECH'S PICTURES OF LIFE AND CHARACTER."^
We, who can recall the consulship of Plancus, and quite respectable, old fogeyfied times, remember amongst othet amusements which we had as children the pictures at which we were permitted to look. There was Boydell's Shakspeare, black and ghastly gallery of murky Opies, glum Northcotes, straddling Fuselis ! there were Lear, Oberon, Hamlet, with starting muscles, rolling eyeballs,, and long pointing quivering fingers ; there was little Prmce Arthur (Northcote) crying, in white satin, and bidding good Hubert not put out his eyes ; there was Hubert crying ; there was little Rutland being run through the poor little body by bloody Clifford ; there was Cardinal Beaufort (Reynolds) gnashing his teeth, and grinning and howling demoniacally on his death-bed (a picture frightful to the present day) ; there was Lady Hamilton (Romney) wav- ing a torch, and dancing before a black background, — a melan- choly museum indeed. Smirke's delightful " Seven Ages " only fitfully relieved its general gloom. We did not like to inspect it unless the elders were present, and plenty of lights and company v/ere in the room.
Cheerful relatives used to treat us to Miss Lin wood's. Let the children of the present generation thank their stars that tragedy is put out of the way. Miss Lin wood's was worsted- work. Your grandmother or grandaunts took you there, and said the pictures were admirable. You saw "the Woodman " in worsted, with his axe and dog, trampling through the snow \ the snow bitter cold to look at, the woodman's pipe wonderful : a gloomy piece, that made you shudder. There were large dingy pictures of woollen martyrs, and scowling warriors with limbs strongly knitted ; there was especially, at the end of a black passage, a den of lions, that would frighten any boy not born in Africa, or Exeter 'Change, and accustomed to them.
Another exhibition used to be West's Gallery, where the pleasing figures of Lazarus in his grave-clothes, and Death on the pale horse, used to impress us children. The tombs of
* Reprinted from the Quarterly Re\';r~'.; No, lor, Dec. 1^5^, 1 y permission of Mr. John Murray.
63 2 CRJ TIL \-l L R E 1 'IE I VS.
Westminster Abbey, the v!?tilts at St. Paul's, the men in ar- mor at the Tower, frownins^ lerocior.sl}- out of tiieir helmets, and wielding their dreadiu! swords ; t!iat superhuman Queen Elizabeth at the end of the room, a livid sovereign, with glass eyes, a ruff, and a dirty satin petticoat, riding a horse covered with steel : who does not remember these sights in London in the consulship of Plancus ? and the wax-work in Fleet Street, not like that of Madame Tussaud's, whose cliamber of death is gay and brilliant ; but a nice old gloomy waxwork, full of murderers ; and as a chief attraction, the Dead Baby and Princess Charlotte lying in state ? , "
Our story-books had no pictures in them for the most part. Frank (dear old Frank !) had none ; nor the