FullReads

Famous books in their day were Cruikshank’s “John Gilpin” 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, and such rustical produce; or, rather, we should say, he is very original, his trees being decidedly of his own make and composition, not imitated from any master.

But what then? Can a man be supposed to imitate everything? 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 accessories were away, could not one swear that the man was stone-deaf, beyond the reach of trumpet? What is the peculiar character in a deaf man’s physiognomy?–can any person define it satisfactorily in words?–not in pages; and Mr. Cruikshank 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 playfully 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!’
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:–

“‘Stop thief! stop thief!–a highwayman!’
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 toll-men thinking, as before,
That Gilpin rode a race.”

The rush, and shouting, and clatter are excellently 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 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 woodcuts 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 has 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 singing out while sitting on a tree.”

And in the second the natural order is reversed. The stag having taken heart, is hunting the huntsman, and the Cheapside Nimrod is most ignominiously running away.

The Easter Hunt, we are told, is no more; and as the Quarterly Review recommends the British public to purchase Mr. Catlin’s pictures, as they form the only record of an interesting race now rapidly passing away, in like manner we should exhort all our friends to purchase Mr. Cruikshank’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 Furioso,” both of which have appeared with many illustrations by Mr. Cruikshank. The “brave army” of Bombastes exhibits a terrific display of brutal force, which must shock the sensibilities of an English radical. And we can well understand the caution of the general, who bids this soldatesque effrenee to begone, and not to kick up a row.