Now Mr. Bruton, who, like the late Mr. Truman, {76} had the advantage of George Cruikshank’s friendship in later years, was able to obtain authentication or repudiation of doubtful unsigned work from the artist himself, and, amongst others, this plate was submitted to him for judgment. The man’s honesty forced him to acknowledge himself to be the author of this piece of full-blooded vulgarity, but his regret has altered the usual laconic record of “Not by me, G. Ck.,” or “By my brother, I. R. C.,” pencilled on the plate, to “Sorry to say this is by me, G. C.” The old man was, when he came to look back upon a long life of good and evil mixed, somewhat more human than that terribly pious hero of Pope’s— Who calmly looked on either life, and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to bear; From nature’s temp’rate feast rose satisfy’d, Thank’d heav’n that he had liv’d, and that he dy’d. He looked back with genuine remorse upon youthful extravagances, and, though doubtless inclined by nature to be something of a _poseur_, and though he attitudinised somewhat too much over his virtuous fads at last, was not going to bolster up his reputation by an easy forgetfulness of early indiscretions. {77} [Illustration: Philoprogenitiveness] Only a few words need be said of the other Cruikshank suppressions here reproduced. The first is the well-known plate “Philoprogenitiveness,” which was published in the earliest separate edition of that noble _Essay on the Genius of George Cruikshank_, written by Thackeray for, and reprinted {78} from, _The Westminster Review_ in 1840. And surely it was a prurient and unnatural squeamishness which condemned this illustration to exclusion in the subsequent editions. It is from the _Phrenological Illustrations_, published in 1826, one of the most famous of Cruikshank’s publications. I shall follow Thackeray’s excellent example of refraining from any description, and just leave the design to speak for itself, for it is a ridiculous task “to translate his designs into words, and go to the printer’s box for a description of all that fun and humour which the artist can produce by a few skilful turns of his needle.” The second is the cancelled wood engraving entitled “Drop it,” which appears on page 18 of the first edition of _Talpa; or the Chronicle of a Clay Farm, an Agricultural Fragment_, by C. M. H(oskyns), published in 1853. For some unknown reason it disappears from subsequent editions, and is only of importance to those who pride themselves on being the possessors of Cruikshank _editiones principes_. [Illustration: “Drop it!”]