MR. RICHARD DOYLE'S FAIRY PICTURES.*
Mn. RICHARD DOYLE has long been known for the humour and delicacy of his fancy as an illustrator of fairy stories, but he has never done anything so elaborate and brilliant as the pictures of this book. Though the colours are, we suppose, printed, and not laid on by hand in each individual copy, they are so finely executed that almost every engraving seems to have been separately painted by the artist himself. It is difficult to believe, for instance, that the lovely bit of distant landscape and soft grey sky in the second plate is no less a mere piece of printed colour than the foreground wherein the prince with the long sweeping yellow train and the, crowd of pages is laying his crown at the feet of the fairy princess. The only thing we have to say in derogation of the book's merits is that it is a great deal too perfect in conception and execution for. the class for whom it is, we suppose, designed,—we mean children. It is really suited rather to the—perhapsnot rerysmall—class of grown- up children who make the little ones of their family the excuse for poring over a species of literature not usually supposed to be suited to a mature taste, or that bolder and more estimable class of elderly persons who courageously own that they never enjoy a novel half as much as fairy stories, and buy and read them for their own sake. To create pictures of this kind, with all their delicacies of conception and execution, for the amusement of child- ren would be a clear case of inventing steam-engines to crack nuts, and almost as wasteful an act of moral luxury as the ordering of a £.60 West-End baby-hOuse, such as was lately to be seen in the window of a shop at Brighton, with all the furniture finished off as it would be for West-End children instead of West-End dolls. Still, for whomsoever's enjoyment this book is intended or not intended, it is quite clear that an artist with such fine and graceful fancies in his head and such a power of rendering them, should be in every possible way encouraged to give them to the public ; and whether the book which contains them is to be possessed by the simple or the educated—it can certainly only be adequately enjoyed by the latter—is a matter of entirely secondary interest. For those who can afford it, to buy it will be both a duty and a pleasure. When bought, let it be possessed by those who can most heartily enter into its beauty.
Mr. Richard Doyle's chief secret of imagination as a fairy artist lies in making his elves playfellows of the birds and insects, and, yet just enough above them to enjoy the sense of fun and mischief for which their power over these creatures gives the opportunity. The flirting pictures, in which elves and fairies are engaged in paying each other marked attentions or inattentious, as the case may be, are not nearly so attractive, or successful,—though they are, of course, executed with equal beauty,—as those (by far the larger number) in which they are training, or frolicking with, their winged fellow- beings of the bird or insect class. Mr. Doyle never or scarcely • In Fairy band a Series of Pictures from elle Elf- World. By Richard Doyle With a Poem by William Allingham. London : Longanne. ever favours the notion that elves keep up any relations with un- winged species of creatures, squirrels excepted,—which, as they live in trees, are in one sense half-birds. Scarcely any quadruped or fish or reptile appears in any of these pictures. There is, indeed, one picture of a great race amongst the swiftest snails in fairyland, in which the little elf-jockeys, with jockey caps on their heads, are all sitting on the snail-shells urging on the animals beneath them, while the umpire sits upon a toadstool to deter- mine the result of the race. But it is obvious that this is as completely a mere tour de force as our human exhibitions of industrious fleas or talking fishes. There is no sym- pathy, no mutual understanding between the elves and the snails, as there is between the elves and the butterflies and beetles, and the elves and the birds. The snails in no way submit themselves to the elves' humour. One has thrown his elf. Another has evidently declined to start at all, as the jockey has dismounted and left him behind, running to see the sport which he cannot share. Even of those which appear to be going in the right direction, only the first seems to be making the slightest exertion, and that is rather with a view to a tempting leaf within reach than to the competition supposed to be going on. It is clear that Mr. Doyle does not intend to suggest any brother- hood of feeling between the snails and the elves, such as he does intend to suggest between the elves and all the flying insects and birds, which seem to stand to elves in pretty nearly the same relation as the pet domestic animals, the pony and the dog, stand to children. Look, for instance, at the seventh plate. There we have represented, first, the fairy queen's messenger, a sly, playful little creature in a peaked cap sitting on the back of a dark-blue beetle, and whizzing away through the moonlight in great enjoyment ; next, a jolly little elf on all fours, creeping up to a bright red beetle, to which he is saying "Bo 1" to startle him ; then an elf sitting in an owl's neat between two owls with an arm affectionately clasping each owl's neck, and laughing in great delight, while the owls regard the intruder with demure composure, looking upon him with so matter-of-fact an air, that one is compelled to think they are setting him an example of good sense and sobriety such as the common-place people of the world always set to men of genius; lastly, there is a picture of elves teasing a gorgeous blue butterfly, one malicious little imp pulling away at his wing with an effort which betrays that the butterfly is more than his equal in strength, while a crowd of wondering elves around are looking on with mixed amusement and wonder at his display of energy.
Or, again, look at the variety of mischief and frolic in the con- duct of the elves who attend upon " the triumphal march of the elf king" in the fourth plate. One little lady, seated most comfortably on a squirrel's tail and leaning back against its brush, has hold of a tame butterfly by a string, just as some ladies take out their little dogs in a leash when they drive in a pony-carriage. The squirrel, however, instead of bearing its rider swiftly onward, is sitting up on its hind legs, while an elf in the most courteous manner takes its right paw to lead it ceremoniously towards the head of the triumphal procession. In another part of the picture a splenetic little elf is cordially kicking a beetle with the greatest energy, while in the very line of the procession itself, a chubby little elf is riding a redbreast, which he hugs most affection- ately, John Gilpin fashion, round the neck. But perhaps the most original and taking of all these pictures is that of the fairy queen taking an airy drive in a carriage drawn by "twelve thoroughbred butterflies." The carriage is a water lily, on a stem of which the little postilion sits holding the complicated gossamers in his hand with the easy air of a practised driver, but without any whip, which the butterflies are apparently too thoroughbred to need. The near wheeler is a fine large purple and orange butterfly, while the off leader is so diminished by distance,—the whole team extend- ing over no small space,—that its pink spots and pale blue colour are comparatively faint against the sky ; there are both mettle and discipline in the butterfly-team, every one of which seems to have a distinct character of its own, and yet a certain air of corporate responsibility with its companions ; far beneath the fairy car lies a dwindled landscape of hill and wood, above which the gorgeous team sweeps on as if human affairs were trivial in the comparison. Certainly Mr. Doyle has been most successful in giving to his elves that kind of special power over, and fellowship with, the winged creatures which unites children to their pets. He ascribes to the little people just the same sort of easy familiarity with, and plea- sure in teasing, their favourites, that children show towards their pets. In a night scene at the end of the volume, there are two little elves asleep, reclining on the branch of a tree, back to back, only between their backs a comfortable fat owl is roosting, which serves as cushion for them both, just as you may often see two children with their heads cushioned on a favourite dog. And there is one most admirable little picture of an elf pointing mockingly with both fingers at a little green love-bird, and evi- dently aiming to make the said little bird cry by his sarcasms and taunts, which, as far as we can judge, the little bird in question is about to do. The only pictures in the book which are less successful, because less original and grotesque, are the elf-flirtation scenes, which might, we think, have been spared with advantage. More beautiful and humorous designs George Cruikshank himself could hardly have produced, and certainly he could not have coloured them with so much delicacy. As for Mr. .S.11ingliam's pcem, it serves pretty nearly the purpose of an ordinary libretto for a brilliant opera. We have read it conscientiously without being able to say what it is like, which is pretty good evidence that it is rather a dim and neutral sort of performance,—conceivable matter in verse, on the subject of fairies, dews, roses, lilies, and so forth. There is nothing in it to spoil the pictures, and nothing to enhance their intrinsic beauty and value.
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