Showing posts with label Thomas Rowlandson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thomas Rowlandson. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

An "Excessively Rare" Thomas Rowlandson Suite Of Caricatures

by Stephen J. Gertz


In 1800, Rudolph Ackermann, the great print publisher, issued Masqueronians, a suite of six hand-colored emblematic etched plates by the great caricaturist, Thomas Rowlandson, each with three figures representing various English "types," for a total of eighteen.


The species include an undertaker; barber; flower girl; lawyer; soldier; fish-monger; street vendor; doctor; nun; pub owner; fashionable lady; philosopher; fox hunter; writer, and etc.


Only one copy has been seen at auction since 1922: "An excessively rare Rowlandson item, only one other copy being known" (Anderson Galleries sale, 1922).


Color-plate books depicting itinerant tradesmen and/or occupations were nothing new in 1800, when Masqueronians was published. Cries of London - "cries" being the street language of vendors hawking their wares in the squares and markets of 17th-century London - was published by John Overton in London 1680-1700. Between 1792 and 1795 Francis Wheatley exhibited a series of oil paintings entitled the “Cries of London.” It was a popular subject.


But it was up to Rowlandson to treat the subject emblematically as social satire, the wares or tools of the trade worn as garlands.


His aim included a caustic arrow to the faces he associated with each occupation. The street vendor above ("Trafficorum"), for example, is depicted with a hooked nose and it doesn't require a Ph.D. to understand that Rowlandson is skewering Jews. Rowlandson impales physicians as sour-pusses impaling patients with their main instrument of practice, a clyster syringe, the better to drain der keister of all that ails ye.


Don't get him started on nuns and the proprietors of pubs.


We will gloss-over the fashionable lady in her finest frou-frou: the philosopher appears to be annoyed to be matched with her; inquiring into the mystery of life is his trade but the mystery of women remains a mystery to him, as it was to whom appears to be his descendant, Freud.


Actors and fox-hunters beware: Rowlandson has your number. And writers? The pen may be mightier than the sword but strangled by vipers, as Penserosa seems to be, the sword might be the best way out when critics spew venom, quills being notoriously undependable instruments of suicide.
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ROWLANDSON, Thomas. Masqueronians. London: R. Ackermann, 1800.

Folio (275 x 375 mm). Six hand-colored etchings, each with three emblematic portraits, all printed in brown ink.

The Plates:

1. Philosophorum, Fancynina, Epicurum
2. Penserosa, Tally Ho! Rum!, Allegora
3. Physicorum, Nunina, Publicorum
4. Funeralorum, Virginia, Hazardorum
5. Battleorum, Billingsgatina, Trafficorum
6. Barberoum, Flora, Lawyerorum

BM Satires 9616-9621.
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Images courtesy of David Brass Rare Books, with our thanks.
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Friday, March 28, 2014

The Man Who Refused To Laugh (And The Book That Laughed At Him)

by Stephen J. Gertz


On March 9, 1748 Philip Dormer Stanhope (1694-1773), 4th Earl of Chesterfield, wrote to his son:

"Having mentioned laughing, I must particularly warn you against it: and I could heartily wish, that you may often be seen to smile, but never heard to laugh while you live. Frequent and loud laughter is the characteristic of folly and in manners; it is the manner in which the mob express their silly joy at silly things; and they call it being merry. In my mind, there is nothing so illiberal, and so ill-bred, as audible laughter. True wit, or sense, never yet made anybody laugh; they are above it: They please the mind, and give a cheerfulness to the countenance. 

"But it is low buffoonery, or silly accidents, that always excite laughter; and that is what people of sense and breeding should show themselves above. A man's going to sit down, in the supposition that he has a chair behind him, and falling down upon his breech for want of one, sets a whole company a laughing, when all the wit in the world would not do it; a plain proof, in my mind, how low and unbecoming a thing laughter is: not to mention the disagreeable noise that it makes, and the shocking distortion of the face that it occasions. Laughter is easily restrained, by a very little reflection; but as it is generally connected with the idea of gaiety, people do not enough attend to its absurdity. 

"I am neither of a melancholy nor a cynical disposition, and am as willing and as apt to be pleased as anybody; but I am sure that, since I have had the full use of my reason, nobody has ever heard me laugh."


The letter is one of over four hundred written beginning 1737/1738 through the death of his son in 1768 and collected in Letters Written By the Late Right Honorable Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield, to His Son, Philip Stanhope Esq. Published in 1774 by his son's widow, Eugenia, a year after Chesterfield's death, the majority of the letters were written between 1746 and 1754. 

Also known as Letters to His Son on the Art of Becoming a Man of the World and a Gentleman, within Lord Chesterfield - yes, he of the eponymous sofa - with elegance, understated wit, and sharp observation discusses, amongst other issues including history and contemporary politics, the restraint in behavior and manners expected of the mid-18th century British upper class in general and gentlemen in particular.

His disdain for the manners of the general populace begged to be lampooned and thirty-seven years after Chesterfield's letters to his son were published caricaturist George Moutard Woodward ("Mustard George"), in 1808, gleefully rubbed his hands together and went to work, the great Thomas Rowlandson engraving Woodward's designs (as imprinted on plates but contrary to title page).


A satire of Lord Chesterfield's advice to his son, Chesterfield Travestie; or, School For Modern Manners presents "a new plan of education, on the principles of virtue and politeness in which is conveyed, such instructions as cannot fail to form the man of honour, the man of virtue, and the accomplished gentleman." In seven chapters illustrated by ten hand-colored plates it covers Rules for walking the Streets, and other Public Places; Behaviour at the Table; Directions respecting Apparel, &c; Short Directions respecting behavior at the Theatres; Rules for Conversation; Rules to be observed at Cards in private Families; and General Rules for Good Breeding on various Occasions. In short, all a swell has to know for good breeding to show, to wit:

"It is very becoming to break out into a violent fit of laughter, on the most rifling occasion. forming  your mouth into a grin like the lion's-head on a brass knocker; and more so to be continually simpering at every thing. like a country milk-maid at a statute fair" (Chapter 7, p. 47).

How To Walk The Streets.

"If, whilst you are walking, you see any person of your acquaintance passing, be sure to bawl and hem after them, like a butcher out of a public-house window; and leave the person you are walking with to run after them.

"In walking through a crowded street, throw your legs and arms about in every direction, as if you were rowing for Dogget's coat and badge. N.B. If you have a short thick stick, it will be of great advantage" (Chapter 1, p. 1).

How To Keep Up A Conversation With Yourself On The Public Streets.

"It is said that the emptiest vessels make the greatest noise; don't let that deter you from making a free exercise of your lungs; it is conducive to you health, therefore, in every conversation, however trivial it may be, be sure to bawl as loud as possible" (Chapter 5, p. 21).

How To Look Over Your Husband's Hand Of Cards And Find Fault With Him For Losing.

"It has a very good effect for a wife to look over her husband's hand while he is playing; at the same time, shewing evident marks of anger and discontent if he loses.

"When you lose, never pay before you are asked for it; it is quite time enough; and then do it with reluctance, so as to plainly shew you would much rather keep it in your pocket"  (Chapter 6, p. 43).

How To Break a Shop Window With An Umbrella.

"Should it be a rainy day, and you use an umbrella, pay no regard to breaking a few windows in your passage, &c., from your careless manner of carrying it" (Chapter I, p. 2).

A British statesman and diplomat, "Chesterfield’s winning manners, urbanity, and wit were praised by many of his leading contemporaries, and he was on familiar terms with Alexander Pope, John Gay, and Voltaire. He was the patron of many struggling authors but had unfortunate relations with one of them, Samuel Johnson, who condemned him in a famous letter (1755) attacking patrons. Johnson further damaged Chesterfield’s reputation when he described the Letters as teaching 'the morals of a whore, and the manners of a dancing master.' Dickens later caricatured him as Sir John Chester in Barnaby Rudge (1841). The opinion of these two more popular writers—both of whom epitomized middle-class morality—has contributed to Chesterfield’s image as a cynical man of the world and a courtier. 

"Careful readers of Chesterfield’s letters, which were not written for publication, consider this an injustice. The strongest charge against his philosophy is that it leads to concentration on worldly ends. But within this limitation his advice is shrewd and presented with wit and elegance. Ironically, Chesterfield’s painstaking advice seems to have fallen on deaf ears: his son was described by contemporaries as 'loutish,' and his godson was described by Fanny Burney as having 'as little good breeding as any man I ever met'” (Encyclopedia Britannica).

As far as his refusal to laugh aloud is concerned, I imagine Lord Chesterfield being kidnapped and taken to a dark, dank basement room where he is strapped to a chair under a glaring spotlight and compelled to endure unmerciful torture by Mel Brooks until his smile, always firmly set to prevent an accidental discharge of guffaws, breaks, his sides split, his gut busts, a lifetime's worth of repressed laughter escapes in a torrent, and an eternal human truth becomes manifest:

Ludibrio ergo sum vivo.
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WOODWARD, George Moutard (designer). ROWLANDSON, Thomas, (engraver). Chesterfield Travestie. or, School For Modern Manners. Embellished with Ten Caricatures, Engraved by Woodward from Original Drawings by Rowlandson. London & Edinburgh: Printed by T. Plummer...for Thomas Tegg, 1808.

First edition. Octavo (6 1/2 x 4 1/8 in; 166 x 104 mm). [1, half-title], [1, blank], iv, [2], 70, [2, adv.] pp.  Ten hand-colored plates (two folding) engraved by Rowlandson after drawings by Woodward (contrary to title), with tissue guards. Publisher's original printed boards.

Reprinted by Tegg in 1809, and again by Tegg in 1811 under the title "Chesterfield Burlesqued." American editions published in Philadelphia by M. Carey in 1812 and 1821.

The Plates:

1. Votaries of Fashion
2. How To Walk the Streets.
3. The Art of Quizzing.
4. How to Keep Up a Conversation with Yourself in the Public Streets.
5. How to break a Shop Window with an Umbrella.
6. Behaviour at Table.
7. Notoriety, &c.
8. Gentleman and Mad Author.
9. How to look over your Husband's Hand while at Cards.
10. The Nobleman and Little Shopkeeper.

Falk, 215-216, Grego, 115-117, Grolier, Rowlandson, 61, Hardie, p. 315. Gordon Library Catalog BC-19.
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Book images courtesy of David Brass Rare Books, with our thanks.

Monday, February 24, 2014

Death Makes A Lousy Nanny, Etc.

by Stephen J. Gertz

Extra engraved title-page featuring
Manny, Moe, and Jack, the last of the Graces.

He can run but he can't hide.
- Joe Louis on ring opponent Billy Conn.

What's up with Death? What's it doing? It never takes a holiday but nowadays it seems to always be someplace else and never near until it is: it's messy and depressing and we keep it in a compartment, generally confined to a television box or computer screen. As if a hotel toilet seat it's been sanitized and deodorized for our protection. Unless, of course, you're in the midst of war and it becomes the close friend you never wanted and don't like but can't get rid of. Death is such a downer, so anti-life. We've buried it as something to be avoided at all costs, life and death as mortal enemies. Kill death before it kills us. We're shocked by its presence; it's alien to our existence.

Keep an eye on the nanny.

This is a recent phenomenon. Until the twentieth century, death was an ever-present close companion, always lurking and liable to strike at any moment. Women routinely dying in childbirth; high infant mortality; rampant, intractable disease; and ignorant medical care ruled. How did people cope with it? Religious faith was one way. Facing it dead-on, accepting, and often laughing was another.


There is a rich tradition of illustrated books that treat death as a living character in the theater of life.  The earliest, appearing not long after the Black Plague ravaged Europe, is Ars Moriendi (The Art of Dying), two manuscripts from the early fifteenth century on how to attain a good death, the second containing eleven graphic woodcuts. Hans Holbein's The Dance of Death (1538) featuring forty-one woodcuts is probably the most celebrated.

The "dance of death" (or "danse macabre") was a "medieval allegorical concept of the all-conquering and equalizing power of death, expressed in the drama, poetry, music, and visual arts of western Europe, mainly in the late Middle Ages. It is a literary or pictorial representation of a procession or dance of both living and dead figures, the living arranged in order of their rank, from pope and emperor to child, clerk, and hermit, and the dead leading them to the grave." (Encyclopedia Britannica).

Death defeats all challengers.

The nineteenth century saw the publication of William Combe's The English Dance of Death, originally issued in monthly parts, 1815-16, with seventy-three hand-colored aquatints by Thomas Rowlandson.

The book at the doctor's feet is List of Cures.
The leaf on the footstool by Death reads, The Only Infallible Remedy."

Ten years later, in 1826, British painter-engraver Richard Dagley published Death's Doings featuring prose and verse selections by various writers highlighted by twenty-four hand-colored plates designed and etched by Dagley.

Ode To Immortality.
Greece 1824.

The poet is Byron, who died in Greece in 1824
while fighting for its independence.

Dagley continues the tradition, with Death near at hand to everyone no matter who they are, no matter the circumstances. Death is everywhere, all the time, in the background tapping a foot in wait.


"Richard Dagley (c. 1765-1841) was an English subject painter. He was brought up at Christ's Hospital, and at first made designs for jewellery. From 1784 to 1806 he exhibited domestic subjects at the Royal Academy. He then turned his attention to teaching drawing, but again appeared at the Academy from 1815 to 1833. As a medalist he obtained some success, and he published works on gems in 1804 and 1822. His life was a continued struggle against poverty. He died in London in 1841" (Bryan's Dictionary of Painters and Engravers).


The ultimate Dear John letter.

The Scroll

The maiden's cheek blush'd ruby bright,
And her heart beat quick with its own delight;
Again she should dwell on those vows so dear,
Almost as if her lover were near.
Little deemed she that letter would tell
How her true lover fought and fell.
The maiden read till her cheek grew pale -
Yon drooping eye tells all the tale:
She sees her own knight's last fond prayer,
And she reads in that scroll her heart's despair.
Oh! grave, how terrible art thou
To young hearts bound in one fond vow.
Oh! human love, how vain is thy trust;
Hope! how soon art thou laid in dust…


Very popular upon its publication, a second edition of Death's Doings with six additional plates appeared in its first year followed by an edition in 1827 and a first American edition (Boston) in 1828. Though well-represented in institutional holdings, the last (and only) copy of Death's Doings with hand-colored plates to appear at auction was twenty-four years ago, in 1990.


Assertions to the contrary, Death does take a holiday: it has recently been vacationing at Club Dead, the last resort to get away from it all, with an all-inclusive package featuring eternal days and nights and all you can eat, though, admittedly, appetites are infinitely suppressed; the only diet that really works over the long-term.

Though booked as far into the future as one can see there's always room at the inn and my 87-year old mother is currently en route to this fabulous ultimate destination spot where Death is headlining the midnight show in the Drop-Dead Lounge and slaying the audience. While there is no turbulence, her flight is in limbo, she's grown impatient, and the family is slicing anxiety into thick slabs, experiencing a thousand deaths as she nears hers. It's not that Death can't make up its mind so much as Death behaving as a cruel tease.

My mother, never known for sharp humor, has made a startling debut as deathbed quipster, making sardonic jokes during brief  periods  of lucidity. Asked the other day if she needed anything she replied, "a shroud" dare I say deadpan. Death is jerking us around. All we ask is that it get on with the show and be done with it.

We're dyin' here.

(Rimshot).
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DAGLEY, Richard. Death's Doings; Consisting of Numerous Original Compositions, in Prose and Verse, the Friendly Contributions of Various Writers; Principally Intended as Illustrations of Twenty-Four Plates, Designed and Etched by R. Dagley. London: Printed for J. Andrews and W. Cole, 1826.



First edition. Octavo (8 1/4 x 5 1/8 in; 211 x 131 mm). xviii, [2], 369, [1, blank], [1, list of plates], [1, printer's slug] pp. Twenty-four hand-colored etchings.

Not in Tooley, Abbey, or Hardie.

The Plates:

1. The Poet.
2. The Pilgrim.
3. The Scroll.
4. The Artist.
5. The Cricketer.
6. The Captive.
7.The Serenade.
8. The Toilet.
9. The Mother.
10. The Hypochondriac.
11. Life's Assurance.
12. The Antiquary.
13. The Champion.
14. The Glutton.
15. The Last Bottle.
16. The Hunter.
17. The Alchymist.
18. Academic Honors.
19. The Empiric.
20. The Phaeton.
21. Death's Register.
22. The Lawyer.
23. The Bubbles of Life Broken By Death.
24. The Epilogue.
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Images courtesy of David Brass Rare Books, with our thanks.
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Friday, August 10, 2012

Pigmy Revels: Laughter For The Languid, Fun For The Feeble In A Boxwood Drum

By Stephen J. Gertz


The Lillipution  Museum is a panorama, in boxwood drum format, "calculated to create joy for the juvenile, laughter for the languid, fun for the feeble, sauce for the serious, and mirth for the melancholy: containing wit without indecency, humour without vulgarity, mirth without malice, and satire without personality."

In short, it's meant for the bored desperate to feel blithe; the jaded in search of jolly; the zoned-out seeking zip; the depressed a dose of daffy; the gloomy, glee; the glum, glow.

It was originally issued as Pigmy Revels; All Alive at Lilliput by George Moutard "Mustard George" Woodward in 1800-1801 as eight colored double-page plates etched by Francis Sansom and Thomas Rowlandson, each measuring 13 x 18 5/8 inches with three strip views of grotesques on each, forming a continuous series between brown wash borders.

Here, the three strips to those plates have been cut apart and horizontally joined to form one long, continuous strip, the whole "In three parts, forty feet long."


Yet, given that mounting a forty-foot long strip onto a drum of this size (1 5/8 in. diam.) is impossible, I  speculate that publisher S.W. Fores used whatever of the original plates and their strips that remained from the original 1800-1801 edition, not necessarily all of them, to create this drum-edition panorama, comprised of five sections from the original. A collector reports that his copy differs from the one under notice. It is probable that no two are exactly alike.


The Lillipution Museum was published without date. One section of this copy is watermarked "J. Whatman Turkey Mill" without date, which may have been lost when the original plates were sliced in three. The copy that sold at Sotheby's in 1976 was watermarked 1820; a few sets of  may have been restruck.


Publisher S.W. Fores established his print shop, located at 3 Piccadilly, in 1783. "In 1795 Fores moved to larger premises at no. 50 Piccadilly, on the corner of Sackville Street. The number was changed to 41 about 1820..." (DNB). We can tentatively date The Lillipution Museum to c. 1819-1820).

- You was born under the Planet Venus Miss you are very fond of the men.
- Speak low good woman, my friend will hear You
- Aye! I thought she wasn't pulling my husband about for nothing

It is only slightly less scarce than the 1801 edition. OCLC notes only three copies, at Princeton, Harvard, and Toronto Public Library, with only four copies at auction since 1976.


The 1801 edition is similarly found in only three libraries worldwide and has only been seen once at auction since 1976.

I've had more than a few panoramas pass through my hands but only one other in boxwood drum, W.H. Mason's Brighton (Ackermann, 1833). Publication of boxwood drum panoramas was confined to c. 1819 - 1833 with most dated within the 1820s. Abbey, in Life in England, records only fourteen (a few others scrolled but not within a drum ). 

MASON, W.H. Brighton. Ackermann, 1833.

Despite protection within sturdy drums these panoramas are fragile. I suspect that many in the past were pulled open with a little too much vigor, the paper ripped, and  at some point they were tossed. Few have survived without some sort of damage. Simply drawing the panorama out by its wooden post and spooling it back via the wood screw at top will guarantee that edges will, over time and sooner rather than later, become worn with small tears.

Boxwood drum panoramas are beautiful little objects, Lilliputian little or otherwise.
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[ROWLANDSON, Thomas, engraver]. [WOODWARD, George Moutard, designer]. The Lillipution Museum or, Panoramic representation of Pigmy Revels: calculated to create joy for the juvenile, laughter for the languid, fun for the feeble, sauce for the serious, and mirth for the melancholy : containing wit without indecency, humour without vulgarity, mirth without malice, and satire without personality. London: S.W. Fores No. 50 Piccadilly, n.d. [c. 1819].

First edition in drum panorama, a strip of hand-colored engravings. Hand-colored titlepage wrapped around drum. Original boxwood drum measures 5 inches tall x 1 5/8 inches diameter. Image strip 3 3/4 x 80 inches (10 x 203 cm).

Cf. Abbey, Life 462.
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Of related interest, re: Edward Moutard Woodward:

The Story of Nobody, By Somebody, Illustrated By Someone.

The Annals of Sporting, 1809; Or, Take This Horse And Shove It!
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Images courtesy of David Brass Rare Books, with our thanks.
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Monday, October 25, 2010

Dancing With Death: A Scottish Doctor's Macabre Obsession

By Nancy Mattoon


Frontispiece From:
COMBE, William. The English dance of death,
from the designs of Thomas Rowlandson,

with metrical illustrations by the author of "Doctor Syntax."

London: R. Ackermann's Repository of Arts, 1815-1816.

(All Images Courtesy of University of Glasgow Library.)

William Gemmell, a Scottish physician, spent his life in Glasgow's Victorian era hospitals doing his best to help his patients cheat death. Upon retiring, he returned to pursuing his lifelong interest in history and archeology, and served on a national committee charged with overseeing Scotland's libraries. In 1919, at the relatively early age of 60, Dr. Gemmell had his own visit from the grim reaper he had outwitted for so many others.

Scottish Physician and Dancer With Death,
Dr. William Gemmell (1859-1919).


In his will, he left a collection of 76 rare books to the University of Glasgow, his alma mater. Not so unusual for a gentleman of his standing, but the subject matter of the books was rather unique. Every volume in the good doctor's collection was an illustrated text depicting the Dance of Death. This grisly corpus of texts all featured skeletons or decaying bodies leading the living in a merry conga line to the grave. In these works, a twinkled-toed Angel of Death is an equal opportunity assassin. From the wealthy and powerful to the poor and humble, all will find that Thanatos has signed the final line on their dance cards.

A Memento Mori From:
Todten-tantz wie derselbe in der löblichen
und weitberühmten stadt Basel.
Als ein spiegel menschlicher beschaffenheit.
Gantz künstlich gemahlet und zu sehen ist.
Mit beygefügten, aus H. Schrifft und denen alten
Kirchenlehrern gezogenen erinnerungen, vom todt.
Aufferstehung, jüngsten gericht,
verdammnüss der Gottlosen, und dem ewigen leben.
Nach dem original in kupffer gebracht,
und heraus gegeben;
durch Matth. Merians sel. erben.
Franckfurt : [s.n.], 1696.


No one knows why Dr. Gemmell became so preoccupied with this macabre procession, but his collection of ghoulish gambols covers almost 500 years of choreography for the condemned. The Dance of Death, also called the Danse Macabre or Todtentanz, first appeared as a motif in murals painted on the walls of medieval churches in response to the Black Death. (Its origins are murky, perhaps coming from early plays or poetry written by the clergy.) The concept soon crossed over onto manuscript pages, perhaps as early as 1460, but the Gemmell Collection begins with what is certainly the most famous and influential Todtentanz text, the 1538 volume featuring woodcuts designed by Hans Holbein the younger, and believed to have been engraved onto wood blocks by Hans Lütszelberger.

Hans Holbein Woodcut From:
Simolachri, historie, e figure de la morte
...

Lyone: Appresso Giovan Frellone, 1549.


Holbein's original work contained 41 small woodcut engravings, beginning with Adam and Eve leaving the Garden of Eden, accompanied by a new arrival, Death. In the remaining plates, Death comes calling on everyone from the King of France to the medieval equivalent of a bag lady. The wealthy are often depicted indulging in food and drink, surrounded by fine furnishings and architecture, enjoying lives of excess and greed. Their comfortable lives make Death all the more eager to bring them to their knees. Mr. Bones may have a bit more sympathy for the poor, but all are ultimately equally doomed to join the dance.

Hans Holbein Woodcut From:
Simolachri, historie, e figure de la morte
...

Lyone: Appresso Giovan Frellone, 1549.

Holbein's work has been called one of the greatest illustrated texts ever published. The work was not commissioned, which allowed Holbein free reign to indulge his talent for satire and social commentary. The original conception of the Danse Macabre was as a line of the cavorting damned led by a skeletal Pied Piper. Holbein chose to show a single individual's rendezvous with the Grim Reaper in each woodcut, allowing him to create in great detail a wide variety of landscapes, interiors, and costumes. In addition to the unifying theme of the skeleton surprising each victim at his daily tasks, every illustration also features an hourglass measuring the last precious seconds of life.

Hans Holbein Woodcut From:
Simolachri, historie, e figure de la morte
...

Lyone: Appresso Giovan Frellone, 1549.

The technical perfection of Holbein's woodcuts, their power, clarity, and masterful precision of line led to their tremendous popularity. More than 100 editions of his Dance of Death have been printed, and his influence can be seen in virtually every treatment of the theme since the 15th century. Many later artists produced illustrations almost line for line copies of Holbein's originals, being notable more for their use of advances in engraving and printing, rather than their artistic creativity. A tribute to Holbein's monumental work is the continuing tradition of Dances of Death consisting of a series of illustrations showing a single victim facing the music.

MUSAUS, Johann Karl August.
Freund Heins Erscheinungen in Holbeins Manier/
von J.R. Schellenberg.

Winterthur : Bey Heinrich Steiner und Comp., 1785.


The theme of the Dance of Death remained popular with artists through the centuries after Holbein. The first truly modern update of the theme came in 1785, with the publication of Freund Heins Erscheinungen in Holbeins Manier written by satirist Johann Karl August Musäus and illustrated by Johann Rudolf Schellenberg. Schellenberg was a master engraver, but more important than the fine quality of his work was his complete abandonment of Holbein's characters and scenes. Schellenberg's Death is a merry prankster and master of disguise, who often chooses to claim his victim through a particularly ironic accident. For example, a scholar finds himself felled by his overflowing bookcases.

COMBE, William. The English dance of death,
from the designs of Thomas Rowlandson,

with metrical illustrations by the author of "Doctor Syntax."

London: R. Ackermann's Repository of Arts, 1815-1816.

Another significant volume in the Gemmell collection is The English Dance of Death. Dating from 1815-6, this work combines the caustic and witty poetry of William Combe with the masterfully satiric caricatures of Thomas Rowlandson. If any Danse Macabre can be called light-hearted, it is this one. Here, Death is a happy hunter, gleefully claiming his prey, each of whom is such a comic grotesque that it is difficult to feel anything but relief at their exit from this earth. In one illustration, a hen-pecked husband looks on with delight as his shrewish wife is finally tamed by Mr. Bones. Behind him is a comely chambermaid, soon to find herself replacing the virago in her master's bedchamber.

COMBE, William. The English dance of death,
from the designs of Thomas Rowlandson,

with metrical illustrations by the author of "Doctor Syntax."

London: R. Ackermann's Repository of Arts, 1815-1816.

The Todtentanz continues to be a popular theme in literature to this day. Frank Wedekind, August Strindberg, and W.H. Auden all wrote plays entitled The Dance of Death. Novels by R.L. Stine, and Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, have also used the title. And Stephen King published a non-fiction book entitled Danse Macabre. While not using the title, director Stanley Kubrick's film adaptation of William Makepeace Thackaray's nineteenth century novel, The Luck of Barry Lyndon, ends with a shot of printed text that perfectly sums up the enduring message of the Dance of Death: "It was in the reign of George III that the above named personages lived and quarreled; good or bad, handsome or ugly, rich or poor they are all equal now ..."

COMBE, William. The English dance of death,
from the designs of Thomas Rowlandson,

with metrical illustrations by the author of "Doctor Syntax."

London: R. Ackermann's Repository of Arts, 1815-1816.

A virtual exhibit of the Gemmell Collection, Dancing With Death, is available on the University of Glasgow Library's website.
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