george cruikshank-第1节

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George　Cruikshank



by　William　Makepeace　Thackeray









Accusations　of　ingratitude；　and　just　accusations　no　doubt；　are　made

against　every　inhabitant　of　this　wicked　world；　and　the　fact　is；　that

a　man　who　is　ceaselessly　engaged　in　its　trouble　and　turmoil；　borne

hither　and　thither　upon　the　fierce　waves　of　the　crowd；　bustling；

shifting；　struggling　to　keep　himself　somewhat　above　waterfighting

for　reputation；　or　more　likely　for　bread；　and　ceaselessly　occupied

to…day　with　plans　for　appeasing　the　eternal　appetite　of　inevitable

hunger　to…morrowa　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　itno　two　gods　must　we　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　visionary　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　habita　part　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　the　time　that　is　requisite　for　the　establishment

of　the　new　firm。　　Damp　and　chill　the　shades　of　the　prison…house

begin　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　existence；　wandering　farther

and　farther　from　the　beauty　and　freshness　and　from　the　kindly

gushing　springs　of　clear　gladness　that　made　all　around　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　riseto　mount　a　bubble　on　the　crest　of　the　wave；

as　to　sink　a　stone　to　the　bottom。



The　reader　who　has　seen　the　name　affixed　to　the　head　of　this　article

scarcely　expected　to　be　entertained　with　a　declamation　upon

ingratitude；　youth；　and　the　vanity　of　human　pursuits；　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　Dove？　　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　that　corner　of　Wood　Street；　a　mop　and　a　pail　in　her

hand　most　likely；　she　heard　the　bird　singing；　and　straight…way　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　worksthe　〃Busen　fuhlt　sich　jugendlich

erschuttert；〃　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。　　He　is　the　friend　of　the　young

especially。　　Have　we　not　read；　all　the　story…books　that　his

wonderful　pencil　has　illustrated？　　Did　we　not　forego　tarts；　in　order

to　buy　his　〃Breaking…up；〃　or　his　〃Fashionable　Monstrosities〃　of　the

year　eighteen　hundred　and　something？　　Have　we　not　before　us；　at　this

very　moment；　a　print；one　of　the　admirable　〃Illustrations　of

Phrenology〃which　entire　work　was　purchased　by　a　joint…stock

company　of　boys；　each　drawing　lots　afterwards　for　the　separate

prints；　and　taking　his　choice　in　rotation？　　The　writer　of　this；　too；

had　the　honor　of　drawing　the　first　lot；　and　seized　immediately　upon

〃Philoprogenitiveness〃a　marvellous　print　（our　copy　is　not　at　all

improved　by　being　colored；　which　operation　we　performed　on　it

ourselves）a　marvellous　print；　indeed；full　of　ingenuity　and　fine

jovial　humor。　　A　father；　possessor　of　an　enormous　nose　and　family；

is　surrounded　by　the　latter；　who　are；　some　of　them；　embracing　the

former。　　The　composition　writhes　and　twists　about　like　the　Kermes　of

Rubens。　　No　less　than　seven　little　men　and　women　in　nightcaps；　in

frocks；　in　bibs；　in　breeches；　are　clambering　about　the　head；

knees；　and　arms　of　the　man　with　the　nose；　their　noses；　too；　are

preternaturally　developedthe　twins　in　the　cradle　have　noses　of　the

most　considerable　kind。　　The　second　daughter；　who　is　watching　them；

the　youngest　but　two；　who　sits　squalling　in　a　certain　wicker　chair；

the　eldest　son；　who　is　yawning；　the　eldest　daughter；　who　is

preparing　with　the　gravy　of　two　mutton…chops　a　savory　dish　of

Yorkshire　pudding　for　eighteen　persons；　the　youths　who　are　examining

her　operations　（one　a　literary　gentleman；　in　a　remarkably　neat

nightcap　and　pinafore；　who　has　just　had　his　finger　in　the　pudding）；

the　genius　who　is　at　work　on　the　slate；　and　the　two　honest　lads　who

are　hugging　the　good…humored　washerwoman；　their　mother；all；　all；

save；　this　worthy　woman；　have　noses　of　the　largest　size。　　Not

handsome　certainly　are　they；　and　yet　everybody　must　be　charmed

with　the　picture。　　It　is　full　of　grotesque　beauty。　　The　artist

has　at　the　back　of　his　own　skull；　we　are　certain；　a　huge　bump　　of

philoprogenitiveness。　　He　loves　children　in　his　heart；　every　one　of

those　he　has　drawn　is　perfectly　happy；　and　jovial；　and　affectionate；

and　innocent　as　possible。　　He　makes　them　with　large　noses；　but　he

loves　them；　and　you　always　find　something　kind　in　the　midst　of　his

humor；　and　the　ugliness　redeemed　by　a　sly　touch　of　beauty。　　The

smiling　mother　reconciles　one　with　all　the　hideous　family：　they　have

all　something　of　the　mother　in　themsomething　kind；　and　generous；

and　tender。



Knight's；　in　Sweeting's　Alley；　Fairburn's；　in　a　court　off　Ludgate

Hill；　Hone's；　in　Fleet　Streetbright；　enchanted　palaces；　which

George　Cruikshank　used　to　people　with　grinning；　fantastical　imps；

and　merry；　harmless　sprites；where　are　they？　　Fairburn's　shop　knows

him　no　more；　not　only　has　Knight　disappeared　from　Sweeting's　Alley；

but；　as　we　are　given　to　understand；　Sweetings　Alley　has　disappeared

from　the　face　of　the　globe。　　Slop；　the　atrocious　Castlereagh；　the

sainted　Caroline　（in　a　tight　pelisse；　with　feathers　in　her　head）；

the　〃Dandy　of　sixty；〃　who　used　to　glance　at　us　from　Hone's　friendly

windowswhere　are　they？　　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　has　done。　　How　we

used　to　believe　in　them！　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〃

exhibition。　　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　at　HB。；　his　pictures　are　a

great　deal　too　genteel　for　thatpolite　points　of　wit；　which　strike

one　as　exceedingly　clever　and　pretty；　and　cause　one　to　smile　in　a

quiet；　gentleman…like　kind　of　way。



There　must　be　no　smiling　with　Cruikshank。　　A　man　who　does　not　laugh

outright　is　a　dullard；　and　has　no　heart；　even　the　old　dandy　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

Diggory　says　in　the　play；　who　is　bidden　by　his　ma