Dickens and His Illustrators. Frederic George Kitton
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In 1847 Dickens instituted a series of theatrical entertainments for certain charitable objects, the distinguished artists and writers who formed the goodly company of amateur actors including George Cruikshank. On one occasion they made a tour in the provinces, giving performances at several important towns, and on the conclusion of this "splendid strolling" Dickens wrote an amusing little jeu d'esprit in the form of a history of the trip, adopting for the purpose the phraseology of Mrs. Gamp. It was to be a new "Piljian's Projiss," with illustrations by the artist-members; but, for some reason, it was destined never to appear in the manner intended by its projector. Forster has printed all that was ever written of the little jest, where we find a humorous description of Cruikshank in Mrs. Gamp's vernacular: "I was drove about like a brute animal and almost worritted into fits, when a gentleman with a large shirt-collar and a hook nose, and a eye like one of Mr. Sweedlepipe's hawks, and long locks of hair, and wiskers that I wouldn't have no lady as I was engaged to meet suddenly a turning round a corner, for any sum of money you could offer me, says, laughing, 'Halloa, Mrs. Gamp, what are you up to?' I didn't know him from a man (except by his clothes); but I says faintly, 'If you're a Christian man, show me where to get a second-cladge ticket for Manjester, and have me put in a carriage, or I shall drop!' Which he kindly did, in a cheerful kind of a way, skipping about in the strangest manner as ever I see, making all kinds of actions, and looking and vinking at me from under the brim of his hat (which was a good deal turned up), to that extent, that I should have thought he meant[Pg 27] [Pg 28] something but for being so flurried as not to have no thoughts at all until I was put in a carriage. … " When Mrs. Gamp was informed, in a whisper, that the gentleman who assisted her into the carriage was "George," she replied, "What George, sir? I don't know no George." "The great George, ma'am—the Crookshanks," was the explanation. Whereupon Mrs. Gamp continues: "If you'll believe me, Mrs. Harris, I turns my head, and see the wery man a making picturs of me on his thumb-nail at the winder!" The artist took part in several plays under Dickens's management, but, although it is not recorded that he created great sensation as an actor, it seems evident that his impersonations met with the approval of the novelist, who was a thorough martinet in Thespian matters.
That George Cruikshank was by no means a prosperous man is perhaps explained by the fact that he never was highly remunerated for his work. "Time was," wrote Thackeray, "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 labour!" The late Mr. Sala declared that for an illustrative etching on a plate, octavo size, George never received more than twenty-five pounds, and had been paid as low as ten—that he had often drawn "a charming little vignette on wood" for a guinea. On February 1, 1878, this remarkable designer and etcher—the most skilled book-illustrator of his day—passed painlessly away at his house in Hampstead Road, having attained the ripe old age of eighty-five. His remains were interred at Kensal Green, but were ultimately removed to the crypt of St. Paul's Cathedral, where a bust by Adams perpetuates his memory.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] A set of the twenty-eight etchings, proofs before letters (First and Second Series), realised £30 at Sotheby's in 1889. Lithographic replicas of the plates in the Second Series were published in Calcutta in 1837.
[2] In a large water-colour replica of this subject, signed "George Cruikshank, Octr. 14th, 1873, in my 82nd year," the artist stated that the landscape represented the old Pentonville fields, north of London.
[3] The name of Sikes is frequently thus mis-spelt. It is odd that Dickens himself first wrote it "Sykes," as may be seen in the original manuscript of the story.
[4] This is, doubtless, a reference to an article by Dickens entitled "Whole Hogs," which appeared in Household Words, August 23, 1851, protesting against the extreme views of the Temperance party.
[5] In the original title on the plate, Ned Twigger's Christian name is incorrectly given as Tom.
[6] Cruikshank designed the illustrations for the "Memoirs of Grimaldi," 1838, but this work was merely edited by Dickens, and therefore does not come within the scope of the present volume.
Plate XV
ROBERT SEYMOUR
From an Unpublished Drawing by
TAYLOR
Lent by Mr. Augustin Daly.
ROBERT SEYMOUR
Early Years—A Taste for High Art—Drawings on Wood for Figaro and Bell's Life in London—Essays the Art of Etching—Designs for "Maxims and Hints for an Angler"—Proposes to Publish a Book of Humorous Sporting Subjects—A "Club of Cockney Sportsmen"—Charles Whitehead and Charles Dickens—The Inception of "The Pickwick Papers"—Seymour's Illustrations—The Artist Succumbs to Overwork—Suicide of Seymour—Dickens's Tribute—Seymour's Last Drawing for "Pickwick"—"The Dying Clown"—His Original Designs—Seymour's Conception of Mr. Pickwick—Letter from Dickens to the Artist—"First Ideas" and Unused Sketches—A Valuable Collection—Scarcity of Seymour's "Pickwick" Plates—Design for the Wrapper of the Monthly Parts—Mrs. Seymour's Account of the Origin of "The Pickwick Papers"—An Absurd Claim Refuted—"The Library of Fiction"—Seymour's Illustrations for "The Tuggses at Ramsgate."
Concerning the artist who was primarily engaged in the illustration of "Pickwick," very little has been recorded, owing perhaps to the fact that his career, which terminated so tragically and so prematurely, was brief and uneventful. The following particulars of his life and labours, culled from various sources, will, I trust, enable the reader to appreciate Robert Seymour's true position respecting his connection with Charles Dickens's immortal work.
Born "in or near London" in 1798, Robert Seymour indicated at a very early age a decided taste for drawing, whereupon his father, Henry Seymour, a Somerset gentleman, apprenticed him to a skilful pattern-draughtsman named Vaughan, of Duke Street, Smithfield.[7] Although this occupation was most uncongenial to young Seymour, it caused him to adopt a neat style of drawing which ultimately proved of much utility. He aspired to a higher branch of Art than that involved in the delineation of patterns for calico-printers; but for a time he remained with Vaughan, pleasantly varying the monotony of his daily routine by producing miniature portraits of friends who consented to sit to him, receiving in return a modest though welcome remuneration. Still cherishing an inclination towards "High Art," he and a colleague named Work (significant patronymic!) deserted Vaughan, and, renting a room at the top of the old tower at Canonbury, they purchased a number of plaster-casts, lay-figures, &c., from which the two juvenile enthusiasts began to study with great assiduity. In Seymour's case tangible results were speedily forthcoming, for he presently painted a picture of unusually large dimensions, quaintly described by his fellow-student as containing representations of "the Giant of the Brocken, the Skeleton Hunt, the Casting of Bullets, and a full meal of all the German horrors eagerly swallowed by the public of that day." This remarkable canvas was, it seems, a really creditable work, and found a place on the walls of a gallery in Baker Street Baazar. Seymour, like many other ambitious young artists possessing more talent than pence, quickly realised the sad fact that, though the pursuit was in itself a very agreeable one, it meant penury to the painter unless he owned a private fortune or commanded the purse-strings