ses equally potent at work which seem to have
escaped Mr. Bates' attention, and these causes, which appear to us the
leading factors in the unfortunate final result, lay, as we shall
endeavour to explain, in an entirely different direction.

People who knew and judged of George Cruikshank (as the majority of his
contemporaries necessarily did) by his work alone, formed altogether an
erroneous judgment of the character and disposition of the man. Because
his later designs showed or seemed to show a love of little children, a
liking for home and homely subjects, a delight in fairy lore and legend,
it seems therefore to have been assumed that the artist was almost
child-like in simplicity, innocence, and guilelessness of heart. Some
even of those who have written upon him, acting apparently upon this
impression, have given us to understand that "he never raised a laugh at
the expense of decency"; that "satire _never_, in his hands, descended
into scurrility"; that "a moral purpose ever underlaid his humour"; that
"he sought to instruct and improve whenever he amused." The absurdity of
this statement we have already exposed. In reference to a supposed
singleness of heart and honesty of purpose, some writers have termed him
"honest George." All this was very well. We all know, of course, that he
"never pandered to sensuality" or "glorified vice"; but in spite of
these facts, "honest George" himself, so far at least as we personally
know, never assumed or set up, or even aimed at assuming, that he was
one whit better than his neighbours.

In order that the reader may grasp the causes of his sudden decadence,
it is important that he should understand the position and the
peculiarities of the artist. As an illustrator of books he was
dependent on a _clientele_ composed exclusively of authors and
publishers. "Honest George," however, laboured under a disadvantage
common perhaps more or less to all men possessed of true genius. Hasty
and hot-tempered, particularly in matters connected with his artistic
labours, he was more than usually prone and ready to take offence.
Almost invariably at war with some one or another of his employers, the
story of George Cruikshank's skirmishes and quarrels with the authors
and publishers with whom he was thrown in contact forms a most curious
and interesting chapter in the history of artistic and literary
squabbles.

At the time when Charles Dickens began to write, George Cruikshank had
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