John Leech, His Life and Work. Vol. 1 [of 2]. Frith William Powell

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ you are in the same line that we are, I fancy.”

      “And what line is that?”

      “The army tailoring. Am I right?”

      In the illustration that accompanies these remarks Leech has succeeded in presenting to us a Norman knight completely characteristic, a Crusader more real, I think, than any modern could have rendered him. The lady he escorts, in a dress a few hundred years after Crusading times, is very lovely. The capital little Marchioness, with the big door-key, the four-wheeler, and the laughing crowd, make up a scene of inimitable humour.

      We now come to the first of those precocious youths in whose mannish ways, whose delightful impertinence to their elders, whose early susceptibility to the passion of love for ladies three times older than themselves, are shown by Leech in many a scene I should have given to my readers, but over them the Copyright Act stands guard. “’Tis true, ’tis pity, pity ’tis, ’tis true,” that in a book intended solely to do honour to Leech’s genius, so many of the most perfect examples of it are denied to us.

      Well may the governor stare with open-mouthed astonishment at such a proposal from such a creature! Look at him as he throws his little arm over his chair in the swaggering attitude he has so often observed in his elders, and raises a full glass of claret! “Just as the twig is bent the tree’s inclined;” but that we know that in this instance the twig is indulging in a harmless freak, one might be inclined to dread the tree’s inclining.

      The political opinions of the writer of this book are of no consequence to himself or anybody else. It would perhaps be pretty near the truth if he were to admit that he had no political opinions worth speaking of. To those, however, who were interested in the struggle for Free Trade, which in the year 1846 raged with great fury, the question was, and still is, one of vital interest. The landed interest, headed by most of the aristocracy on the one side, and the manufacturing interest, championed by Cobden and Bright, on the other, raised a storm in which language the reverse of parliamentary was tossed from side to side. Peel was Prime Minister, and his ultimate conversion to the principles of Free Trade, and consequent advocacy of the repeal of the Corn Laws, horrified his supporters – by whom, notably by Disraeli, he became the object of envenomed attack – but led to a settlement of the question, and gave Leech an opportunity for the production of drawings of the victor and the vanquished, entitled, Cobden’s “Bee’s Wing” and Richmond’s “Black Draught,” two of the most successful of the political cartoons.

      “The Brook Green Volunteer” gave Leech the opportunity for many illustrations which, to my mind, are nearer approaching caricature than most of his work; nor have they, as a rule, the beauty or human interest that so many of his drawings show. I fear I must charge the volunteer himself with being in possession of an impossible face and a no less impossible figure; his action also is exaggerated. In compensation we have a delightful family group. The mother with that naked baby perambulating her person is beyond all praise. Women do strange things, but I deny the possibility of such a woman as Leech has drawn ever finding it in her heart to marry that volunteer. The little thing standing on tip-toe to dabble in baby’s basin for the benefit of her doll, the delighted lookers-on, not forgetting the warrior riding his umbrella into action, are invested with the charm that Leech, and Leech only, could give them.

      The year 1846 gave birth to the first fruit from a field in which Leech found such a bountiful harvest. The racecourse gave opportunities for the exhibition of life and character of which the great artist took advantage in numberless delightful examples. Pen and pencil record adventures by road and rail. Whether the excursionist is going to the Derby or returning from it, whether he is high or low, a Duke or a costermonger, that unerring hand is ready to note his follies or his excesses, always with a kindly touch, or to point a moral if a graver opportunity presents itself.

      A madman, they say, thinks all the world mad but himself; and it is not uncommon for a drunken man to imagine himself to be the only sober person in the company. That some feeling of this kind possesses the rider in the drawing opposite, as he addresses the stolid postboy, is evident enough; his drunken smile, his battered hat, and his dishevelled dress, are eloquent of his proceedings on the course; and if his return from the Derby is not signalized by a fall from his horse, he will be more fortunate than he deserves to be. In works of art the value of contrast is well known, and a better example than the face of the postboy offers to that of his questioner could not be imagined. He drunk, indeed! not a bit of it.

      A pretty creature in the background must not be overlooked. She is a perfect specimen of Leech’s power of creating beauty by a few pencil-marks. Her beauty has evidently attracted notice, and caused complimentary remarks from passers-by, which are resented by the old lady in charge, who tells the speaker to “go on with his imperdence!”

      Smith: “Hollo! Poster, ain’t you precious drunk, rather?”

      Postboy: “Drunk! not a bit of it!”

      I cannot resist presenting my readers with another Derby sketch. It is more than probable that if either of these young gentlemen had asked for leave of absence from his official duties for the purpose of going to the Derby, he would have met with stern denial. The attraction, however, is irresistible, and though the subterfuge by which it is achieved is not to be defended, who is there that is not glad that the wicked boy is penning that audacious letter, as it is the cause of our having a picture that is a joy for ever? As a work of art, whether as a composition of lines and light and shadow, in addition to perfect character and expression, this drawing takes rank amongst the best of Leech’s works. Note the admirable action of the youth who is putting on his coat – a momentary movement caught with consummate skill.

      “Gentlemen,

      “Owing to sudden and very severe indisposition, I regret to say that I shall not be able to attend the office to-day. I hope, however, to be able to resume my duties to-morrow.

“I am, gentlemen,“Yours very obediently,“Phillip Cox.”

      Doctors differ, as everybody knows; and in no opinion do they differ more than in the way children should be treated. One of the faculty will tell you that a healthy child should be allowed to eat as much as he or she likes; another advises that as grown-up people are disposed to eat a great deal more than is good for them, a boy is pretty sure to do the same unless a wholesome check is imposed upon his unruly appetite. A great authority is reported to have said that as many people are killed by over-eating as by over-drinking; “in fact,” said he, “they dig their graves with their teeth.” If that be so, the young gentleman in “Something like a Holiday” is destined for an early tomb.

      Comment on this wonderful youth is needless. We can only share the alarm and astonishment so admirably expressed in the pastrycook’s face. That this awful juvenile’s memory should serve him so perfectly when he has taken such pains to cloud it, as well as every other faculty, is also surprising.

      Pastrycook: “What have you had, sir?”

      Boy: “I’ve had two jellies; seven of those, and eleven of these; and six of those, and four bath-buns; a sausage-roll, ten almond-cakes, and a bottle of ginger-beer.”

      Little Boy: “Oh lor, ma! I feel just exactly as if my jacket was buttoned.”

      If “a fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind,” the boy in the following drawing would have delighted in the society of the gourmet at the pastrycook’s. Boiled beef and gooseberry-pie are good things enough in their way, but one may have too much of a good thing, with the inevitable result of the tightening of the jacket. This greedy-boy drawing appeared in 1846, and created a great sensation in the youth of that day, and many days since. Careful parents have been known to use this terrible example of over-eating as a warning to their offspring that СКАЧАТЬ