George Cruikshank — Text and Context

Thackeray's Metaphorical Framing

Thackeray's opening paragraphs are notable for their elaborate figurative language. He describes the world as a place where 'the horrible glazed eyes of Necessity are always fixed upon you,' and 'black Care sits behind you' drowning out cheerful companions. This imagery, drawn from Horace, establishes a contrast between the ideal of artistic contemplation and the harsh realities of daily life. The essay's structure mirrors this tension: Thackeray moves from general reflections on human nature to specific critiques of Cruikshank's illustrations, suggesting that the artist's work offers a respite from the 'foggy, dull, shivering apology for light' that characterizes adult existence. The metaphors are consistent and carefully developed, revealing Thackeray's literary craftsmanship even in a piece of criticism.

Cruikshank's Supernatural and Comic Realm

Thackeray identifies Cruikshank's strength in depicting the supernatural, describing a 'little comic pandemonium, peopled with the most droll, good-natured fiends possible.' He praises the artist's illustrations for Chamisso's Peter Schlemihl, noting how Cruikshank captures 'that happy mixture of the real and supernatural' that makes the narrative 'so curious, and like truth.' The essay cites specific details: the little gentleman drawing a Cordovan leather bag from his pocket, the ten gold pieces counted out repeatedly, and the shadow being rolled up and pocketed. Thackeray admires the 'wonderful poetic way' Cruikshank renders this scene, emphasizing the artist's ability to make the fantastic feel credible. He also mentions Cruikshank's work on German fairy tales and Victor Hugo's Hans of Iceland, noting that the 'peculiar humor' of the German books suited the artist exactly.

International Influence and Social Commentary

Thackeray documents Cruikshank's reach beyond England: his designs were translated into German, imitated in France, and even copied in China. He notes that Cruikshank 'complimented the French by illustrating a couple of Lives of Napoleon, and the Life in Paris.' The essay also touches on the social dimension of Cruikshank's work, such as the 'terrific display of brutal force' in Bombastes Furioso, which Thackeray suggests 'must shock the sensibilities of an English radical.' He references historical events like the 'massacres of Birmingham' and 'Badajoz' to underscore the political implications of the imagery. These observations ground Cruikshank's art in contemporary debates, showing Thackeray's awareness of the illustrator's role as a commentator on society.

Thackeray's essay is as much a reflection on the critic's own perspective as it is a study of Cruikshank. Readers should attend to the way Thackeray uses his own literary voice—elaborate, ironic, and self-aware—to evaluate the illustrator's work. The essay rewards attention to its structure: a philosophical preamble that gradually narrows to specific examples, each chosen to illustrate a point about the relationship between art and life. The excerpts provided offer a glimpse into Thackeray's method, but the full text likely contains further analysis of Cruikshank's career and techniques.

Reading Thackeray’s lingering on Cruikshank’s shadowy streets, I remembered evenings spent tracing old woodcuts in my grandfather’s study—that same hush of the uncanny tucked inside the everyday. Later, flipping through Essays of an Americanist I. Ethnologic and Archæologic. II. Mythology and Folk Lore. III. Graphic Systems and Literature. IV. Linguistic. — Story, Setting & Ideas, the feeling returned—not of spectacle, but of patterns half-remembered, patiently waiting to be named again.