Art: Hurrahs for a Modest Man

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When the London papers of 1891 ran their obituaries on Charles Samuel Keene, only a few connoisseurs marked the passing of a fine Victorian artist. The public knew him mainly as a cartoonist for Punch; critics in general, when they thought of him at all, thought of him as an everyday draftsman. Last week, half a century after his death, Britain's Arts Council exhibited nearly 100 of Charles Keene's original drawings, and. the hurrahs shook the rafters.

The reproductions in Punch had not done Keene justice. Printed from wood blocks, they were dull and crude compared to the pen & ink originals: flustered old gentlemen and ragged urchins done with fine, soft tones and a master's spare line. Moreover, the public never saw the drawings that Keene did as studies for his cartoons. These were hurried little sketches scratched out on scraps of paper and backs of envelopes: dumpy old ladies sitting spraddled with fatigue, a drunken man slumped in a chair, London swells leaning languidly against a bar. Each took but a few skilled lines and shadows to get across the hunch of a shoulder, the gnarled stiffness of old limbs, the suppleness of young ones.

"God Bless You, Sir." Said the Manchester Guardian: "Both the beauty of the drawings and the depth of the observation are expressed so quietly that the casual observer may easily overlook them." Said Sir John Rothenstein, director of London's Tate Gallery: "Keene is unquestionably the greatest of the great number of artists thrown up by day-to-day drawing. His drawings are a revelation . . ."

Charles Keene would have blushed at such praise. A shy, quiet man, he lived out his life resigned to the idea that he was merely a plodding potboiler. He saw his first signed drawing appear in Punch in 1854, and when he died, 37 years and some 3,000 cartoons later, he was still sketching for Punch on a piecework basis. Only a few experts ever saw his originals, and they became a devoted following. Degas knew of Keene and admired him; so did Van Gogh, who conscientiously clipped his drawings as they appeared in Punch. Whistler once said that, with the possible exception of Hogarth, Keene was the greatest artist England had ever produced. Yet Keene never seemed to believe his admirers. He was astounded when a French writer once asked for some material for a book. "As to writing my life story," he replied, "God bless you, sir, I've none to tell. The most stirring incidents in my life are a visit to the dentist (date forgotten) and certain experiences of the last few days."

Meat & Marmalade.Keene's shy modesty colored his whole life. He never married, lived with his mother and sisters, dreading the idea of "stepping out before the public." Though he had offers for etchings and illustrations, he preferred the rutted comfort of his work with Punch.