THE NEW FROISSA_RT.*
THE inflammatory quality of political caricature has been dis-
agreeably brought home to us in the last couple of years. It is therefore matter for no small satisfaction that the most brilliant native exponent of the art should be not only guilt- less of embittering international relations, but that in the domain of party politics he should exert a stimulating rather than an exasperating influence. In his earlier days, when he used to illustrate the Christmas numbers of Truth, Mr.
Gould's work was far less genial in tone, but as his talent has developed his temper has mellowed, and now it is not too much to say that he is appreciated and enjoyed every bit as much by Unionists as by Radicals. Staunchly Liberal in his views, it is natural enough that he should let "the Whig dogs" have the best of it. But his partisanship is never virulent or brutal, and if he deals freely in ridicule, be never renders his victims repulsive. In a word, his art is ani- mated by the best traditions of English fair play, and it has never been exhibited in a more pleasing light than in the ingenious entertainment now given to the world under the title of Froissart's Modern Chronicles.
The scheme of the work is simple to obviousness. It is one of those happy thoughts that might have occurred to any one, but required a peculiar combination of qualities for its successful execution,—a combination which no other living English draughtsman possesses. For Mr. Gould (like Wagner) is his own librettist, and the skill with which he has
adapted the method and phraseology of Froissart to a con- densed recital of the political history of the last sixteen years proves him to be much more than a mere literary mimic. A good deal of the narrative, as he owns in his preface, may be said to write itself : " So strangely does history
often repeat itself that I have been able here and there to transcribe passages of Lord Berners's translation almost verbatim into my text," — for example, that re- lating the tyranny of the English oppressors in forcing the captive Irish chieftains to wear breeches after the custom of the English, an episode which we may perhaps be allowed to take credit for having introduced to the notice of our readers some five years ago. But he is not less happy in preserving the style of the original where he is obliged to rely on his own in- vention, and some of the happiest passages in the text are the wholly apocryphal episodes like the vigil of Sir Joseph de Birmingham in the chapel of Hatfield, or the mode in which the Earl of Durdans stole a march on Sir Harcourt de Mal- wood on the retirement of Sir Gladstone le Grand:—
" During this mean season, in truth it was in the year of our Lord a thousand eight hundred four score and fourteen, it fell about, and ill was it for the fortunes of the Buffs as I shall show you hereafter, that Sir Gladstone he Grand, being weary with weight of years and stress of fighting, withdrew himself from the leadership of his party and went to his castle in Flintshile, saying that be would fight no more, but was minded to rest for the time that was yet left to him of life. When this was known it caused great sorrow among the Buffs, for Sir Gladstone he Grand was a valiant knight and noble, and had always done his devoir, and they cast about to see who there might be worthy to succeed him. Now there were two of the chief men of the Buffs, either of whom might well be considered. The one was the Earl of Durdans, and the other was Sir Harcourt de Mal- wood. When it was told them that the Buffs were looking for a leader, they mounted their horses quickly to ride to London with speed, but my Lord of Durdans had in his stables a horse of marvellous swiftness, and Lades, for such was its name, bore him to Westminster so fleetly that be arrived there while Sir Harcourt de Malwood was yet on his way. So the nobles and the chief commoners of the Buffs took the Earl of • Froissart's Modern Chronicles. Told and Pictured by F. Carruthers Gould. London c T. Fisher trnwin. [3e. ed.] Durdans for their leader and swore fealty to him. Albeit some there were who murmured saying, a We will not have a lord to rule over us.' And of these the principal was one Henry of Northampton, who loved mischief greatly, and had no regard for the nobility, clergy, and gentry. Others there were who said it was not seemly that the swiftness of a horse should in any wise count in so important a matter, and being godly men who favoured not racing or other worldly sports, they joined them- selves to those who loved not lords, and they went out together and dwelt apart in a cave which they called the Cave of Adullam."
But, after all, the chief attraction of The New Froissart is the pictures, in which Mr. Gould has parodied with delightful results the style and conventions of the mediaeval woodcuts. As usual, be is most uniformly successful in his treatment of Mr. Chamberlain, and the picture of Sir Joseph de Birmingham promising old-age pensions to the people is a masterpiece of condensed drollery,— observe the wink in the eye of the orator's horse and the ecstatic expression of his squire, Mr. Jesse Collingi. Lord Salisbury " from a stained-glass window " is 'vastly 'good, and as examples of Mr. Gould's happy gift in seizing a likeness nothing could be better than the equestrian portraits of Lord Russell " charging a jury " and of Lord Alverstone as a man of law. Economy of means—as in the work of another great humourist with the pen, Caran d'Ache—is always a noticeable point of Mr. Gould's method. Thus the obvious but quite legitimate collusion involved in the letters simultaneously written by Sir William Harcourt and Mr. John Morley on their withdrawal from the councils of the party is ingeniously symbolised in the cut headed " Sir Harcourt de Malwood and Sir John de Morlaix write to each other of cross currents." Ebro the two figures on opposite sides of a table are shown writing each on the other's paper. And this prompts us to add that throughout the book Mr. Gould is by no means inclined to spare the Liberal leaders whenever they have assumed a position that exposes them to banter. Finally, we are glad to see from the last sentence of this most diverting volume that Mr. Gould intends to con- tinue his Chronicles, which leave off with the Chesterfield speech of Lord Rosebery. As they stand they constitute a remarkable achievement in the way of twofold parody—literary and pictorial—and being entirely free from acrimony or vulgarity, are sure of an enthusiastic welcome wherever wit is appre- ciated and politics studied.
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