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Dickens and Victorian Art: Relationship with W.P. Frith

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Introduction<br />

<strong>Dickens</strong> <strong>and</strong> <strong>Victorian</strong> <strong>Art</strong>: <strong>Relationship</strong> <strong>with</strong> W.P. <strong>Frith</strong><br />

Nanako KONOSHIMA<br />

Narrative Paintings flourished in the 19th century Engl<strong>and</strong>. Many artists painted pictures<br />

telling stories, <strong>and</strong> huge amount of them were naturally inspired by the novels. i<br />

Among the most successful <strong>Victorian</strong> costume painters was William Powell <strong>Frith</strong> (1819-1909),<br />

who was undeniably one of the most influential artists of the period. <strong>Frith</strong> was an ardent admirer of<br />

<strong>Dickens</strong>’s writings. He reveals in his autobiography, “It goes <strong>with</strong>out saying that I had read all that<br />

1<br />

Pictures <strong>with</strong> themes<br />

that derived from the novels were especially called Costume Paintings, <strong>and</strong> Richard Altick, in his<br />

voluminous work, Paintings from Books, declares that <strong>Dickens</strong>’s works produced more Costume<br />

Paintings than those of Sir Walter Scott’s, who was artists’ favourite writer before <strong>Dickens</strong> gained<br />

fame (Altick, Paintings from Books 464). That <strong>Dickens</strong>’s visually imaginative prose inspired many<br />

artists, naturally agrees <strong>with</strong> the fact that numerous critics since his contemporary have praised<br />

vividness of <strong>Dickens</strong>’s writing. Various approaches have been attempted to analyse its visual effect,<br />

<strong>and</strong> some studies have designated influence from preceding visual culture, like Hogarth <strong>and</strong> the<br />

tradition of graphic satire. However, as to how <strong>Dickens</strong>’s prose has been visualized, arguments have<br />

tended to analyse only the illustrations in his books <strong>and</strong> his effect on cinema. What still remains to<br />

be discussed is his relationships <strong>with</strong> contemporary artists, <strong>with</strong> many of whom <strong>Dickens</strong> had actual<br />

acquaintance, <strong>and</strong> over many of whom he had significant influence as an immensely popular writer of<br />

the day.


<strong>Dickens</strong> had written, beginning <strong>with</strong> the ‘Sketches by Boz’” (<strong>Frith</strong> 74). It is well known that<br />

<strong>Dickens</strong>’s first historical novel Barnaby Rudge (1841) proved to bring <strong>Frith</strong> a turning point in his<br />

artistic career. I will quote again from his autobiography:<br />

One of the greatest difficulties besetting me has always been the choice of subject. My<br />

inclination being strongly towards the illustration of modern life, I had read the works of<br />

<strong>Dickens</strong> in the hope of finding material for the exercise of any talent I might possess; but<br />

at that time the ugliness of modern dress frightened me, <strong>and</strong> it was not till the publication<br />

of “Barnaby Rudge,” <strong>and</strong> the delightful Dolly Varden was presented to us, that I felt my<br />

opportunity had come, <strong>with</strong> the cherry-coloured mantle <strong>and</strong> the hat <strong>and</strong> pink ribbons.<br />

(<strong>Frith</strong> 74)<br />

I shall examine Dolly Varden later. I would like to note here that <strong>Frith</strong> looked for a hint for “the<br />

illustration of modern life” in <strong>Dickens</strong>’s novels. <strong>Frith</strong>, born in North Yorkshire, came to London in<br />

1835, beginning his career as a portrait painter. It was in 1838 that he first presented his work to the<br />

British Institution, <strong>and</strong> his first appearace at the Royal Academy Exhibition <strong>with</strong> Malvolio before the<br />

Countess Olivia was in 1840. <strong>Frith</strong> was therefore <strong>Dickens</strong>’s immediate contemporary, who launched<br />

his literary career <strong>with</strong> Sketches by Boz in 1836. <strong>Art</strong> was lagging behind literature in the first half of<br />

the 19th century. Contemporary attire, especially that of men, was considered hopelessly ugly <strong>and</strong><br />

not fit for art. <strong>Frith</strong> thus constantly discloses his anxiety in painting modern subject-matter. His<br />

anxiety reveals that the legacy of Sir Joshua Reynolds <strong>and</strong> his pecking order of art in Discourses,<br />

ranking historical paintings first, still assumed the reins of Royal Academy. <strong>Frith</strong> did have his<br />

predecessors. Benjamin West, in Death of General Wolfe, painted history in contemporary dress, <strong>and</strong><br />

Sir David Wilkie, in Chelsea Pensioners Reading the Gazette of the Battle of Waterloo, painted it in<br />

everyday life. Still, what <strong>Frith</strong> aimed was not easily attained. Martin Meisel writes,<br />

“Distanced genre painting, rural <strong>and</strong> provincial, had been well established since Wilkie,<br />

<strong>and</strong> “modern life” clearly meant something else to the painters who felt drawn to identify<br />

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themselves, through their art, <strong>with</strong> the energy <strong>and</strong> concerns of the present age. It is<br />

worth remembering that few artists in the 1840s in Engl<strong>and</strong> had gone further than <strong>Frith</strong> in<br />

creating a contemporary genre painting <strong>with</strong> unmitigated immediacy (Redgrave’s Poor<br />

Teacher, 1843, is an exception).” (Meisel 375)<br />

Meisel’s phrase “unmitigated immediacy” signifies unsoftened <strong>and</strong> direct realization of immediate<br />

social concern. His mention of Redgrave in the above context is significant <strong>and</strong> I shall examine this<br />

point later. In my view, it was always <strong>Dickens</strong> who drove <strong>Frith</strong> into creating contemporary paintings,<br />

beginning <strong>with</strong> Dolly Varden to his later painting, The Crossing Sweeper. Placed in between them is<br />

an almost forgotten work, Kate Nickleby, which in my idea is a noteworthy work in <strong>Frith</strong>’s career <strong>and</strong><br />

in <strong>Victorian</strong> social realistic art. As far as I have been able to observe, <strong>Dickens</strong>’s influence over <strong>Frith</strong><br />

still remains to be discussed, <strong>and</strong> <strong>Frith</strong>’s ignored work, Kate Nickleby, deserves more attention as one<br />

of the precursors of <strong>Victorian</strong> social realistic art.<br />

I. Companion Pictures: Dolly Varden <strong>and</strong> Kate Nickleby<br />

<strong>Frith</strong> painted Dolly in at least six versions, the most popular being the “Laughing Dolly,” now in<br />

Victoria <strong>and</strong> Albert Museum, shown in Figure 1.<br />

Fig. 1. <strong>Frith</strong>, Dolly Varden, 1842<br />

The original Dolly Varden was bought by a collector by January 1842, <strong>and</strong> <strong>Frith</strong> borrowed it to make<br />

two copies, one of which for his fellow artist, Frank Stone, who gave it to <strong>Dickens</strong>’s friend <strong>and</strong><br />

biographer, John Forster. The “Laughing Dolly” is this copy, which <strong>Dickens</strong> presumably saw. <strong>Frith</strong><br />

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was strongly anxious to hear the opinion of the author, who was, for <strong>Frith</strong>, “one of the greatest<br />

geniuses that ever lived” (<strong>Frith</strong> 75), ii<br />

“I shall be very glad if you will do me the favour to paint me two little companion<br />

pictures; one a Dolly Varden (whom you have so exquisitely done already), the other, a<br />

Kate Nickleby. P.S. – I take it for granted that the original picture of Dolly <strong>with</strong> the<br />

bracelet is sold.” (Letters 3, 569)<br />

but the “Laughing Dolly,” gaining great favour of the public,<br />

also gained favour of <strong>Dickens</strong>. The author writes to the painter for his copy, adding another request:<br />

In this letter, <strong>Dickens</strong> requests <strong>Frith</strong> to paint also Kate, a sister of the protagonist in his earlier work<br />

Nicholas Nickleby (1839). iii<br />

thusly ordered.<br />

“Impossible” (<strong>Frith</strong> 75), records <strong>Frith</strong> as he instantly felt when he was<br />

Dolly Varden <strong>and</strong> Kate Nickleby are completely different characters, one a “Maria” type <strong>and</strong> the<br />

other a “Mary,” to borrow Michael Slater’s formulation (Slater, <strong>Dickens</strong> <strong>and</strong> Women 234-35). Maria<br />

Beadnell, whom <strong>Dickens</strong> was devotedly in love <strong>with</strong> in his youth, <strong>and</strong> Mary Hogarth, who was his<br />

beloved sister-in-law dying a premature death in his arms, are two important women in <strong>Dickens</strong>’s<br />

lives. Their influence over the writer’s life <strong>and</strong> imagination has been meticulously examined.<br />

Dolly Varden, “the most developed ‘Maria’ type,” according to Slater, is one of the lively, pretty,<br />

flirtatious, “frivolous in their behaviour but essentially good-hearted” girls, “comfortably<br />

circumstanced” (Slater 235-36). As I have already quoted, <strong>Frith</strong> tells in his autobiography that he<br />

gained inspiration from the following passage of Barnaby Rudge:<br />

As to Dolly, there she was again, the very pink <strong>and</strong> pattern of good looks, in a smart little<br />

cherry-coloured mantle, <strong>with</strong> a hood of the same drawn over her head, <strong>and</strong> upon the top<br />

of that hood, a little straw hat trimmed <strong>with</strong> cherry-coloured ribbons, <strong>and</strong> worn the merest<br />

trifle on one side--just enough in short to make it the wickedest <strong>and</strong> most provoking<br />

head-dress that ever malicious milliner devised. And not to speak of the manner in<br />

which these cherry-coloured decorations brightened her eyes, or vied <strong>with</strong> her lips, or<br />

4


shed a new bloom on her face, she wore such a cruel little muff, <strong>and</strong> such a heart-rending<br />

pair of shoes, <strong>and</strong> was so surrounded <strong>and</strong> hemmed in, as it were, by aggravations of all<br />

kinds […]. (BR Chapter 19, 151)<br />

As Slater finds Dolly’s precursor in Arabella Allen in Pickwick Papers, “the young lady <strong>with</strong> the fur<br />

round her boots” (Pickwick Papers Ch. 30, 366), Dolly’s coquettish attraction is enhanced by her attire<br />

<strong>and</strong> ornaments. In “The Laughing Dolly,” <strong>Frith</strong> makes best use of them, especially the muff <strong>and</strong> the<br />

bracelet, “sparkl[ing] <strong>and</strong> glitter[ing] so beautifully on her wrist” (BR 159), of which Dolly is so proud.<br />

Patricia Ingham, in her discussion of “morselisation” of women borrowing the word from Tony<br />

Tanner <strong>and</strong> developing it in her analysis of <strong>Dickens</strong>’s women, quotes the above paragraph as the<br />

example of men’s gaze turning metonymy into inventory, <strong>and</strong> concludes, “This elaboration on Dolly<br />

as petticoat carries, unusually, the implication that this is not only how male eyes see her but also how<br />

she sees herself <strong>and</strong> how she wishes to be seen” (Ingham 23). Thus Dolly differentiates herself from<br />

all the other young female characters. Her conclusion can also be confirmed in the following<br />

illustrations by Phiz, in which the muff is again emphasized.<br />

Fig. 2. Hablot Knight Browne, Illustration for Barnaby Rudge<br />

This illustration visualizes <strong>Dickens</strong>’s following text, revealing Dolly’s strong vanity: hearing that her<br />

friend Emma Haredale was very unhappy, Dolly feels more sorry than she could tell, “but next<br />

moment she happened to raise them to the glass, <strong>and</strong> really there was something there so exceedingly<br />

agreeable, that as she sighed, she smiled, <strong>and</strong> felt surprisingly consoled” (Barnaby Rudge 155).<br />

<strong>Frith</strong>’s Dolly succeeds in presenting Dolly’s coquettish vanity <strong>and</strong> attractiveness, <strong>with</strong> her h<strong>and</strong> at her<br />

waist <strong>and</strong> laughing <strong>with</strong> her chin protruded. From the beginning, Dolly has been introduced as a<br />

5


laughing girl:<br />

“One of [the upper windows] chanced to be thrown open at the moment, <strong>and</strong> a roguish<br />

face met [Gabriel Varden’s]; a face lighted up by the loveliest pair of sparkling eyes that<br />

ever locksmith looked upon; the face of a pretty, laughing girl; dimpled <strong>and</strong> fresh, <strong>and</strong><br />

healthful – the very impersonation of good-humour <strong>and</strong> blooming beauty.” (BR 34)<br />

When <strong>Frith</strong>’s “Laughing Dolly” was welcomed <strong>with</strong> fervour, it was not only the style <strong>and</strong> form that he<br />

succeeded in, but the overall realization of <strong>Dickens</strong>’s characterization. David Trotter, in his<br />

thought-provoking analysis of <strong>Frith</strong>’s <strong>and</strong> <strong>Dickens</strong>’s presentation of Dolly Varden, begins his<br />

discussion by aptly pointing out <strong>Dickens</strong>’s anxiety to avoid “any imputation of conservatism” in his<br />

“labored” jokes in ‘The Old Lamps for the New Ones,” the notorious article criticizing Millais’s<br />

Christ in the House of His Parents. Trotter indicates <strong>Dickens</strong>’s ambivalence about change, which, in<br />

his idea, is “the proper ground for a comparison between <strong>Dickens</strong> <strong>and</strong> <strong>Frith</strong>. Both wanted to be<br />

modern, <strong>with</strong> an urgency which everywhere shapes their work; neither knew how to be” (Trotter 31).<br />

Through his discussion he reveals the modern characterization of Dolly, <strong>and</strong> how her social<br />

ascendancy taking the form of eroticism was successfully captured in <strong>Frith</strong>’s work. He concludes,<br />

“<strong>Frith</strong>’s achievement was to have captured not just Dolly, but <strong>Dickens</strong>’s own allegiance to Dolly, an<br />

allegiance he felt deeply, <strong>and</strong> could never express directly” (Trotter 36).<br />

Kate Nickleby, on the other h<strong>and</strong>, is a character in stark contrast <strong>with</strong> Dolly. She is in<br />

mourning when she is first introduced into the novel <strong>with</strong> her widowed mother <strong>and</strong> brother. She is a<br />

“slight but very beautiful girl of about seventeen” (Nicholas Nickleby 36), echoing Mary Hogarth’s<br />

epitaph which <strong>Dickens</strong> inscribed for his sister-in-law. When Kate is first addressed in the<br />

conversation by her spiteful uncle Ralph, she is weeping, <strong>and</strong> has to appeal for any work that she<br />

might do that will gain her “a home <strong>and</strong> bread” (Nicholas Nickleby 39). <strong>Frith</strong>, who succeeded in<br />

presenting a laughing girl, comfortably circumstanced, is now requested to draw a weeping,<br />

unfortunate girl, if not less pretty. <strong>Frith</strong> notes what he came up <strong>with</strong>:<br />

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“Kate Nickleby, too! Impossible, perhaps, to please the author of her being <strong>with</strong> my<br />

presentment of her – but I must try. And many were the sketches I made, till I fixed<br />

upon a scene at Madame Mantalini’s – where Kate figures as a workwoman – the point<br />

chosen being at the moment when her thoughts w<strong>and</strong>er from her work, as she sits sewing<br />

a ball-dress spread upon her knees.” (<strong>Frith</strong> 75)<br />

Figure 7 is the engraving of <strong>Frith</strong>’s original work:<br />

Powell <strong>Frith</strong>.<br />

Fig. 3. William Holl Jr., Kate Nickleby. Stipple engraving after William<br />

The pensive expression of Kate in mourning reveals her anxiety in her new work <strong>and</strong> situation, after<br />

the loss of her father <strong>and</strong> the departure of her beloved brother Nicholas in consequence. In the<br />

course of the story, Kate is being imprudently courted by the villainous Lord Verisopht <strong>and</strong> Sir<br />

Mulberry Hawk, but the essential point in the plot is not to emphasize her sexual attractiveness, as in<br />

case <strong>with</strong> Dolly, when she is sexually threatened by Hugh in the woods <strong>and</strong> Simon Tappertit in the<br />

capture by the rioters. Kate’s characteristic virtue lies in her sisterly love <strong>and</strong> patience, <strong>and</strong> <strong>Frith</strong><br />

successfully visualizes them by presenting Kate at her lonely work <strong>with</strong> her thoughts w<strong>and</strong>ering, most<br />

likely anxious for her brother now far away.<br />

When <strong>Dickens</strong> asked <strong>Frith</strong> to paint a portrait of Kate, both of them must have been reminded<br />

that Kate has already been a model of a portrait in the novel by the Miniature painter, Miss La Creevy.<br />

She paints Kate in her own room, taking pains to realize her prettiness by infusing into the<br />

countenance “a bright salmon flesh-tint,” which was her original technique. Finally she succeeds: “‘I<br />

think I have caught it now’ said Miss La Creevy. ‘The very shade! This will be the sweetest portrait I<br />

7


have ever done, certainly.’” (Nicholas Nickleby 120)<br />

<strong>Frith</strong> could have painted Kate like Miss La Creevy, emphasizing her prettiness as he had<br />

successfully done <strong>with</strong> Dolly. <strong>Frith</strong>, who has succeeded in visualizing Dolly’s “good-humour <strong>and</strong><br />

blooming beauty,” can easily be expected to succeed also in adding “salmon flesh-tint” to Kate’s face<br />

as Miss La Creevy does. Ingham calls this scene “grotesque,” <strong>and</strong> notes that the episode “work to<br />

question the conventional method of representing desirable women” (Ingham 28). The<br />

“conventional method” is apparently questioned in the claim of Miss La Creevy that follows the above<br />

quotation. The Miniature Painter continues after the above quotation thusly:<br />

'Look at the Royal Academy! All those beautiful shiny portraits of gentlemen in black<br />

velvet waistcoats, <strong>with</strong> their fists doubled up on round tables, or marble slabs, are serious,<br />

you know; <strong>and</strong> all the ladies who are playing <strong>with</strong> little parasols, or little dogs, or little<br />

children -- it's the same rule in art, only varying the objects -- are smirking. In fact,' said<br />

Miss La Creevy, sinking her voice to a confidential whisper, 'there are only two styles of<br />

portrait painting; the serious <strong>and</strong> the smirk; <strong>and</strong> we always use the serious for professional<br />

people (except actors sometimes), <strong>and</strong> the smirk for private ladies <strong>and</strong> gentlemen who<br />

don't care so much about looking clever.' (Nicholas Nickleby 121)<br />

This passage, as one of the few references in <strong>Dickens</strong>’s novels on painting, has been quoted<br />

repetitively by critics who have discussed <strong>Dickens</strong> <strong>and</strong> art. Through the words of Miss La Creevy,<br />

<strong>Dickens</strong> criticizes convention in portrait paintings.<br />

Criticism of stereotype in art remains the main point in <strong>Dickens</strong>’s later articles on art which he<br />

publishes in Household Words, a weekly periodical published in his own editorship from 1850. In<br />

one of them, “The Ghost of <strong>Art</strong>,” he harshly attacks stereotypical representations of people in<br />

historical paintings. Eight years later, he publishes “An Idea of Mine,” again to criticize the use of<br />

models <strong>with</strong> such stock types as young men <strong>with</strong> broad chest <strong>and</strong> young ladies <strong>with</strong> long eyelashes.<br />

He disliked them because they were not faithful representations of the reality. When <strong>Dickens</strong> praises<br />

8


the art of John Leech in his review published in The Examiner in 1848, he writes, “Into the tone, as<br />

well as into the execution of what he does, he has brought a certain elegance which is altogether new,<br />

<strong>with</strong>out involving any compromise of what is true” (Journalism 2, 144-47, underlines mine). Truth<br />

to nature was an important essence in <strong>Dickens</strong>’s notion of the visual arts, <strong>and</strong> it was again<br />

paradoxically emphasized in his later article, “Please to Leave Your Umbrella,” in which he describes<br />

a visit to the picture gallery at Hampton Court (Journalism 3, 485).<br />

II. Kate Nickleby as Social Realistic <strong>Art</strong><br />

When <strong>Frith</strong> painted Kate at work, he not only challenged a new way of painting women,<br />

dispelling conventionality as expressed in <strong>Dickens</strong>’s writings, but also succeeded in being “true” to<br />

the reality in which <strong>Dickens</strong> placed Kate. The reality, which I refer to, is the contemporary reality<br />

for middle-class or lower middle-class women who had to work to live. Kate is the first woman in<br />

his novels who was compelled to work, except Nancy in Oliver Twist (1839), immediately followed<br />

by the secondary character in this novel, Madeline Bray. <strong>Dickens</strong> describes the state of Kate <strong>and</strong><br />

other working seamstresses in 1838:<br />

At this early hour many sickly girls, whose business, like that of the poor worm, is to<br />

produce, <strong>with</strong> patient toil, the finery that bedecks the thoughtless <strong>and</strong> luxurious, traverse<br />

our streets, making towards the scene of their daily labour, <strong>and</strong> catching, as if by stealth,<br />

in their hurried walk, the only gasp of wholesome air <strong>and</strong> glimpse of sunlight which cheer<br />

their monotonous existence during the long train of hours that make a working day. As<br />

she drew night to the more fashionable quarter of the town, Kate marked many of this<br />

class as they passed by, hurrying like herself to their painful occupation, <strong>and</strong> saw, in their<br />

unhealthy looks <strong>and</strong> feeble gait, but too clear an evidence that her misgivings were not<br />

wholly groundless. (Nicholas Nickleby 203-04)<br />

<strong>Dickens</strong> thusly describes the state of seamstresses’ hard labour <strong>and</strong> low payment, which was<br />

9


eginning to disturb public peace of mind. “The Education of Young Ladies for Other Occupations<br />

than Teaching” (1838) by Lady Ellis was published the same year, <strong>and</strong> Patricia Thomson notes,<br />

“for the following 20 years, ‘tutor, the tailor, <strong>and</strong> the hatter’ continued to be the only<br />

occupations that the gentry-bred <strong>with</strong> propriety might pursue. […] Before 1857 the<br />

national conscience was no less than four times […] pricked out of its complacent torpor<br />

by revelations about women wage-earners. First, by milliners, then by factory women,<br />

next by governesses <strong>and</strong> finally by nurses. […] The agitations on behalf of milliners <strong>and</strong><br />

factory girls were practically contemporary. The tailor’s strike was followed by the<br />

efforts of the Christian Socialists on behalf of tailoresses; <strong>and</strong> in 1844 the Association for<br />

the aid <strong>and</strong> benefit of Dressmakers <strong>and</strong> Milliners was formed.” (Thomson 68)<br />

In this context, when <strong>Frith</strong> chose to draw Kate at needle-work, alone <strong>and</strong> in mourning, he can be said<br />

to have captured the meaningful significance <strong>Dickens</strong> put in her character. The harsh reality Kate<br />

was facing was one of rising public concerns, <strong>and</strong> <strong>Dickens</strong> was to treat this topic <strong>with</strong> more<br />

seriousness <strong>and</strong> intent in the characterizations of Meg <strong>and</strong> Lilian in The Chimes in 1844. <strong>Frith</strong>’s<br />

challenge was justly rewarded: seeing the completed portraits of Dolly <strong>and</strong> Kate, <strong>Dickens</strong> exclaimed,<br />

“‘All I can say is, they are exactly what I meant, <strong>and</strong> I am very much obliged to you for painting<br />

[Dolly <strong>and</strong> Kate] for me’” (<strong>Frith</strong> 75).<br />

The original Kate Nickleby is now lost. According to <strong>Frith</strong>’s biography, the engraver William<br />

Holl started working on it around 1845, <strong>and</strong> published the engraved version in 1848. It remains<br />

unclear about the precise date of Kate’s completion, but it was probably not long after <strong>Dickens</strong>’s<br />

request in 1842. There is a significant time lag between 1842, when <strong>Frith</strong> first painted Kate in the<br />

composition as shown in Fig. 4, <strong>and</strong> 1848, when the engraved version was widely bought, <strong>and</strong> in my<br />

view, <strong>Frith</strong>’s choice of the theme in 1842 deserve careful attention. It was in 1843 that the artist<br />

Richard Redgrave first exhibited Poor Teacher, <strong>and</strong> Thomas Hood published the poem The Song of<br />

the Shirt in the Christmas issue of Punch. Hood <strong>and</strong> Redgrave were followed by a number of<br />

10


paintings <strong>with</strong> the same cause in the following decades.<br />

According to Christopher Wood, “The fate of the overworked <strong>and</strong> exploited seamstress was the<br />

one which seems to have attracted painters most. First to take up the cause was Richard Redgrave”<br />

(Wood, <strong>Victorian</strong> Panorama 127). That Redgrave was directly inspired from Thomas Hood’s The<br />

Song of the Shirt published anonymously in Punch in the winter of 1843 is evident in the fact that<br />

Redgrave attached a quotation from the poem when he exhibited The Sempstress six months after the<br />

publication of the poem. iv Hood tripled the number of issues of Punch by the success of The Song of<br />

the Shirt, <strong>and</strong> it is even said that it was the most famous poem of the period. v<br />

As Wood <strong>and</strong> Treuherz states, Richard Redgrave, together <strong>with</strong> G.F. Watts, is celebrated as “the<br />

first <strong>Victorian</strong> social realist,” one of the “only two artists of the 1840s [who] depicted social problems<br />

<strong>with</strong> any degree of frankness” (Treuherz 24). By his Poor Teacher (1843), Redgrave successfully<br />

achieved his status as a pioneer, who chose to paint the piteous plight of contemporary working<br />

women. It was in 1844 that The Sempstress was first exhibited at the Royal Academy, the work<br />

which found fame as denouncing needle women’s hard labour, who were compelled to work long<br />

hours under wretched circumstances, poorly paid <strong>and</strong> living under foul conditions.<br />

It inspired not only<br />

Redgrave, but a number of paintings in the following decades including Frank Holl, who painted <strong>with</strong><br />

the same title, The Song of the Shirt, as late as 1875.<br />

Fig. 4. Richard Redgrave, The Sempstress<br />

Compared to Redgrave’s The Sempstress, <strong>with</strong> her red eyes after her work throughout the night,<br />

<strong>Frith</strong>’s Kate only suggest the monotonous severity of the work. The intention of a social propag<strong>and</strong>a<br />

may not be marked in <strong>Frith</strong>’s painting. Yet <strong>Frith</strong>’s Kate can also be said to suggest hard labour of<br />

contemporary seamstresses. It is almost impossible to clarify the date of production of a work of art,<br />

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<strong>and</strong> we cannot say that <strong>Frith</strong> anticipated Redgrave. Hood, however, must have known Nicholas<br />

Nickleby before writing The Song of the Shirt, having favourably reviewed <strong>Dickens</strong>’s Master<br />

Humphrey’s Clock in 1840 in the Athenaeum. vi Slater suggests that the suffering of the starving<br />

sempstresses Meg <strong>and</strong> Lilian in The Chimes was inspired by The Song of the Shirt (Slater 332). Yet,<br />

as he also points out, the restricted choice of employment for the majority of middle-class or lower<br />

middle-class girls was presented much earlier in Kate Nickleby (Slater 332). vii<br />

In The Chimes, Meg<br />

works from early morning until late at night, not complaining that she is tired even when she “fainted,<br />

between work <strong>and</strong> fasting’ (The Chimes 158). <strong>Dickens</strong> writes, “In any mood, in any grief, in any<br />

torture of the mind or body, Meg’s work must be done. She sat down to her task, <strong>and</strong> plied it.<br />

Night, midnight. Still she worked” (The Chimes 160). Figure shows John Leech’s illustration for<br />

this work.<br />

Fig. 5. John Leech, Illustration for The Chimes<br />

Leech is later to produce again works <strong>with</strong> the same topic in Punch, titled Pin Money <strong>and</strong> Needle<br />

Money (1849), viii<br />

<strong>and</strong> as I mentioned before, such visual representations become not uncommon in<br />

the following decades. When <strong>Frith</strong> chose to paint Kate in the composition later to become popular as<br />

early as 1842, <strong>and</strong> that, soon after the tremendous success of coquettish Dolly, <strong>Frith</strong>, an admirer of<br />

<strong>Dickens</strong>, can be said to have rightly captured <strong>Dickens</strong>’s design of Kate in Nicholas Nickleby. <strong>Frith</strong><br />

showed his respect <strong>and</strong> underst<strong>and</strong>ing of <strong>Dickens</strong>’s social intention in Nicholas Nickleby which, on<br />

<strong>Dickens</strong>’s part, had clearly anticipated the age.<br />

<strong>Frith</strong>, who found Dolly Varden when reading <strong>Dickens</strong> “in the hope of finding material for” “the<br />

illustration of modern life,” consequently was given a chance to depict a new aspect of “modern life,”<br />

by <strong>Dickens</strong>’s request to draw Kate. <strong>Frith</strong>’s challenge was justly rewarded: seeing the portraits of<br />

12


Dolly <strong>and</strong> Kate, <strong>Dickens</strong> exclaimed, “‘All I can say is, they are exactly what I meant, <strong>and</strong> I am very<br />

much obliged to you for painting [Dolly <strong>and</strong> Kate] for me.’”<br />

Conclusion<br />

After the remarkable success of The Derby Day (1858), the subject-matter <strong>Frith</strong> chose for his<br />

next work was again something strongly connected to a work by <strong>Dickens</strong>: The Crossing Sweeper<br />

(1858).<br />

Fig. 6. <strong>Frith</strong>, The Crossing Sweeper<br />

<strong>Frith</strong>’s crossing sweeper, though bare-footed <strong>and</strong> in torn trousers, seems living in better conditions<br />

than poor Jo, but still, when he chose this subject matter <strong>with</strong> intention to “paint life about me” (<strong>Frith</strong><br />

267), <strong>Frith</strong> must have had in mind Jo in Bleak House (1853).<br />

<strong>Frith</strong> was always an ardent admirer of <strong>Dickens</strong>’s writings. That Barnaby Rudge brought <strong>Frith</strong><br />

a turning point in his artistic career is a famous story. His “inclination being strongly towards the<br />

illustration of modern life,” <strong>Frith</strong> had been reading <strong>Dickens</strong> “in the hope of finding material for the<br />

exercise of any talent [he] might possess.” Exhibiting his first work in the British Institution in 1838,<br />

<strong>Frith</strong> was <strong>Dickens</strong>’s immediate contemporary, <strong>and</strong> presumably it was <strong>Dickens</strong> who gave <strong>Frith</strong> the hint<br />

for contemporary works. One of them, significant but carelessly ignored, was Kate Nickleby, which<br />

deserves attention as one of the precursors of <strong>Victorian</strong> social realistic art. Challenging to paint Kate<br />

in the social context soon after his tremendous success <strong>with</strong> the “Laughing Dolly,” <strong>Frith</strong> succeeded in<br />

capturing <strong>Dickens</strong>’s design of Kate, which had clearly anticipated the age. <strong>Frith</strong>, who found Dolly<br />

13


Varden when reading <strong>Dickens</strong> “in the hope of finding material for” “the illustration of modern life,”<br />

consequently was given a chance to depict a new aspect of “modern life,” by <strong>Dickens</strong>’s request to<br />

draw Kate.<br />

It remains to be argued whether <strong>Dickens</strong> really understood <strong>Frith</strong>’s true inclination <strong>and</strong> talent.<br />

Ormond points out that <strong>Dickens</strong>’s favourite among <strong>Frith</strong>’s works which he singled out at the Paris<br />

International Exhibition of 1855 was a scene from Oliver Goldsmith’s comedy of 1768, The Good<br />

Natured Man, Mr Honeywood introduces the Bailiffs to Miss Richl<strong>and</strong> as his Friends (Victoria <strong>and</strong><br />

Albert), <strong>and</strong> acutely remarks,<br />

To the modern eye, this work, like the others [which <strong>Dickens</strong> thought highly of, like The<br />

Rejected Poet: Pope <strong>and</strong> the Lady Mary Wortley Montagu <strong>and</strong> a Scene from ‘Le<br />

Bourgeois Gentilhomme’], is an elaborate costume-piece, lacking the vitality of <strong>Frith</strong>’s<br />

studies of the contemporary scene. (Ormond, “<strong>Dickens</strong> <strong>and</strong> Painting: Contemporary <strong>Art</strong>”<br />

18)<br />

<strong>Dickens</strong>’s enjoyment in seeing Costume Paintings was probably related to his profession. He, who<br />

famously saw the object of his writing in his mind, enjoyed having his writing visualized. He later<br />

made a speech at a Royal Academy Banquet, the last of his public speeches:<br />

“The literary visitors of the Royal Academy tonight desire to congratulate their hosts on a<br />

very interesting exhibition […]. They naturally see <strong>with</strong> especial interest the writings<br />

<strong>and</strong> persons of great men – historians, philosophers, poets, <strong>and</strong> novelists – vividly<br />

illustrated around them here. And they hope they may modestly claim to have rendered<br />

some little assistance towards the production of many of the pictures in this magnificent<br />

gallery.” (Speeches 421)<br />

When <strong>Dickens</strong> later edited the Library Edition, <strong>Frith</strong> begged him to “allow [him] to be one of the<br />

illustrators” <strong>and</strong> painted pictures for Little Dorrit. <strong>Frith</strong>’s comment, “The great pleasure that I felt in<br />

the anticipation of once more trying my h<strong>and</strong> in realizing the characters of the author was my sole<br />

14


motive in making this proposal,” reveals his satisfaction in visualizing <strong>Dickens</strong>’s characters on the<br />

artist’s part.<br />

i See especially Sacheverell Sitwell, Narrative Pictures: a Survey of English Genre <strong>and</strong> its Painters. 1938.<br />

ii See <strong>Frith</strong>’s letter addressed to <strong>Dickens</strong> on 9 August 1841.<br />

iii Richard Dadd, fellow artist <strong>and</strong> one of <strong>Frith</strong>’s most intimate friends until his insanity in 1843, saw at<br />

<strong>Frith</strong>’s studio, several versions of Dolly Varden: “<strong>Frith</strong> had been an admirer of <strong>Dickens</strong> since reading the<br />

collection of early pieces published in 1836 as Sketches by Boz. What attracted him to BR was Dolly’s<br />

picturesque 18th century costume, which he modelled on the wedding dress he had just inherited from his<br />

maternal gr<strong>and</strong>mother. After <strong>Dickens</strong> saw the ‘Dolly’ painted for Frank Stone, in November 1842 he<br />

commissioned another version together <strong>with</strong> a companion picture of Kate Nickleby. It was the beginning<br />

of a close friendship which lasted until <strong>Dickens</strong>’s death in 1870, despite <strong>Frith</strong>’s wife Isabelle – the close<br />

friend <strong>and</strong> confidante of Catherine <strong>Dickens</strong> – banning him from her house after the break up of the <strong>Dickens</strong><br />

marriage, just around the time <strong>Frith</strong> was beginning the portrait of <strong>Dickens</strong> commissioned by his friend John<br />

Forster” (Knight 5).<br />

iv Julian Treuherz, Hard Times: Social Realism in <strong>Victorian</strong> <strong>Art</strong>. 24.<br />

v Hood was inspired to write the poem, The Bridge of Sighs in 1844 by reading in The Times of the<br />

attempted suicide of Mary Furley, a seamstress who made shirts at 1 3/4pence each (Wood, Panorama<br />

138).<br />

vi Thomas Hood, an unsigned review of Master Humphrey’s Clock, Vol.I, in the Athenaeum (Collins 94).<br />

vii Slater continues, “Later, a number of articles in <strong>Dickens</strong>’s journals also drew attention to needlewomen<br />

<strong>and</strong> praised, <strong>and</strong> gave publicity to, attempts to improve their lot,” <strong>and</strong> lists articles published in Household<br />

Words by Henry Morley (Slater 332).<br />

viii (Treuherz 25)<br />

15


Works Cited<br />

Altick, Richard. Paintings from Books: <strong>Art</strong> <strong>and</strong> Literature in Britain, 1760-1900. Columbus: Ohio State UP,<br />

1985.<br />

Collins, Philip, ed. <strong>Dickens</strong>: The Critical Heritage. London: Routledge, 1971.<br />

<strong>Frith</strong>, William Powell. My Autobiography <strong>and</strong> Reminiscences. New York: Harper <strong>and</strong> Brothers, 1888.<br />

<strong>Dickens</strong>, Charles. “An Idea of Mine.” Household Words 416 (1858): 289-291.<br />

---. Barnaby Rudge. 1841. London: Dent, 1996.<br />

---. Nicholas Nickleby. 1839. London: Penguin, 1999.<br />

---. The Pickwick Papers. 1837. Oxford, Oxford UP, 1986.<br />

---. “Please to Leave Your Umbrella.” <strong>Dickens</strong>’ Journalism. 2. Ed. Michael Slater. London: Dent, 1996.<br />

---. Review of John Leech, The Rising Generation: A Series of Twelve Drawings on Stone. <strong>Dickens</strong>’s<br />

Journalism 2. Ed. Michael Slater. London: Dent, 1996. 142-47.<br />

---. The Speeches of Charles <strong>Dickens</strong>. Ed. K.J. Fielding. Oxford: Clarendon, 1960.<br />

---. The Chimes. 1844. The Christmas Books: Volume One. Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1971.<br />

---. “The Ghost of <strong>Art</strong>.” <strong>Dickens</strong>’ Journalism. 2. Ed. Michael Slater. London: Dent, 1996.<br />

---. The Letters of Charles <strong>Dickens</strong>. Madeline House, Graham Storey, <strong>and</strong> Kathleen Tillotson, eds. Oxford:<br />

Clarendon, 1965-2002.<br />

Johnson, E.D.H. Paintings of the British Social Scene from Hogarth to Sickert. New York: Rizzoli, 1986.<br />

Lambourne, Lionel. An Introduction to ‘<strong>Victorian</strong>’ Genre Painting from Wilkie to <strong>Frith</strong>. Owings Mills,<br />

Maryl<strong>and</strong>: Stemmer House, 1982.<br />

---. <strong>Victorian</strong> Painting. London: Phaidon, 1999.<br />

Meisel, Martin. Realizations: Narrative, Pictorial, <strong>and</strong> Theatrical <strong>Art</strong>s in Nineteenth-Century Engl<strong>and</strong>.<br />

Lawrenceville, New Jersey: Princeton UP, 1983.<br />

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Ormond, Leonée. “<strong>Dickens</strong> <strong>and</strong> Painting: Contemporary <strong>Art</strong>.” The <strong>Dickens</strong>ian 80, 1984: 2-25.<br />

---. “<strong>Dickens</strong> <strong>and</strong> Painting: The Old Masters.” The <strong>Dickens</strong>ian 79, 1983: 130-151.<br />

Stone, Marcus. Ed. Charles <strong>Dickens</strong>’ Uncollected Writings from Household Words 1850-1859. 1.<br />

Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1968.<br />

Trotter, David. “<strong>Dickens</strong> <strong>and</strong> <strong>Frith</strong>.” William Powell <strong>Frith</strong>: Painting the <strong>Victorian</strong> Age. Mark Bills <strong>and</strong><br />

Vivien Knight, eds. New Haven: Yale UP, 2006.<br />

Slater, <strong>Dickens</strong> <strong>and</strong> Women. London: Dent , 1983.<br />

Wood, Christopher. <strong>Victorian</strong> Panorama: Paintings of <strong>Victorian</strong> Life. London: Faber, 1976.<br />

Treuherz, Julian. Hard Times: Social Realism in <strong>Victorian</strong> <strong>Art</strong>. London: Lund Humphries, 1987.<br />

Photographic Reference<br />

Fig. 1, 6: from Mark Bills <strong>and</strong> Vivien Knight, eds., William Powell <strong>Frith</strong>: Painting the <strong>Victorian</strong> Age. New<br />

Haven: Yale UP, 2006.<br />

Fig. 2: from Charles <strong>Dickens</strong>, Barnaby Rudge. 1841. London: Dent, 1996.<br />

Fig. 3: Photo ©National Portrait Gallery, London.<br />

Fig. 4: from Julian Treuherz, Hard Times: Social Realism in <strong>Victorian</strong> <strong>Art</strong>. London: Lund Humphries, 1987.<br />

Fig. 5: from Charles <strong>Dickens</strong>, The Chimes. 1844. The Christmas Books: Volume One. Harmondsworth,<br />

Penguin, 1971.<br />

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