as signally mistaken, for Mr.
Bentley, as might have been expected, held him all the tighter to the
_letter_ of his bond. What the artist thought and what he did are told
us in the plainest language by the etchings which followed this singular
manifesto. They tell us as plainly as could be expressed in words, that
George reasoned after the following fashion:--"It is clear that under
the terms of my engagement I am bound to supply 'Bentley's Miscellany'
with one etching a month; but our agreement says nothing as to the
_quality_ of the etchings, nor am I bound to see that they shall be
strictly relevant to the subjects which I am called upon to illustrate."
From that time, so long as he continued to design for the "Miscellany,"
George tried to do his worst, and it must be admitted that he succeeded
to admiration. Anything more outrageous than these wretched
drawings--taking into account the talent, power, and skill of the
artist, and the quality of the work which he was at this very time
executing for Harrison Ainsworth--can scarcely be conceived. They are so
ashamed of themselves, that his signature--usually so distinct, so
characteristic, and so clear on other occasions--is illegible, in many
cases wholly wanting. At length, in vol. xiii. (1843) appeared a story
called "The Exile of Louisiana," "with an illustration by George
Cruikshank" (for Bentley, probably by way of retaliation, was determined
the public should know that these performances were due to the hand
which had produced the famous etchings to "Oliver Twist," "Jack
Sheppard," and the contemporaneous story of the "Miser's Daughter"). We
should like to have seen the face of the author when this extraordinary
conception dawned upon him. The tale (a serious and pathetic one) was
burlesqued with one of the most grotesque caricatures the mind of comic
artist ever conceived. It represents Marshal Saxe recognising the widow
of a late Czaaravitch in the gardens of the Tuileries. The marshal, a
most extraordinary personage, would make in actual life the fortune of
any enterprising showman. He possesses a nose of Slawkenbergian
proportions; his pig-tail reaches below his waist; and his sword,
sticking out at right angles, gives him the appearance of a fly with a
pin through its middle. Near him stands a courtier, with ankles of such
fearful and wonderful construction that his legs will snap the moment he
attempts to use them. As for the distinguished relict of the
Czaa