"The Emperor had a favourite dog called Milord, which never left him. We were dining at the palace, and it being a small party (there were only the Imperial Family and Court attendants), we retired after dinner to the Empress's private apartments. I suddenly heard the Emperor calling 'Milord!' and supposed that he was calling for me; but it was his dog that was wanted, to receive the biscuits which his Majesty was in the daily habit of bestowing on his favourite. I immediately hastened to his Majesty, and learnt the explanation from the Emperor, who was highly amused at the incident.

"At the time his Majesty was seated in an inner saloon (a sort of alcove), and placed near him was a small table, on which was a number of Punch, with a cartoon representing the Sovereigns of Austria, Russia, and Germany at a whist table, the Emperor of Russia holding down his hand with a card. The Emperor put the paper in my hand, and said, 'Expliquez-moi cela.' I felt the difficulty of the situation, and to collect my thoughts asked to be permitted to study it. After a short time I said—

"'Oh, sire, it is quite clear. The political European position is here represented by a whist party, and your Majesty is represented apparently as hesitating whether to continue the game.'

"It was a perplexing question, and I felt very much as Daniel may have felt when called upon to explain 'Nebuchadnezzar's dream!'"

I was suggesting just now that to Cabinet Ministers the attitude of Punch is often a matter of very real concern—at least, that they seem usually to have attached more importance to the matter than we who stand outside would think to be reasonable; though, from a proper sense of the ridiculous doubtless, Ministers have rarely turned upon Punch to rend him, for all they may have suffered at his hands.

There is a pretty story of Lord John Russell that is at once a charming proof to the statesman's magnanimity and of the paper's influence. When the excitement, already referred to, of the so-called "Papal Aggression" was at its height, in consequence of the action of the Pope in creating Roman Catholic Archbishops and Bishops with English territorial titles, Lord John, who was then in power, took an active part in the House of Commons on the side of the scaremongers, by introducing the Ecclesiastical Titles Bill—in respect to which he was strenuously opposed by both Bright and Cobden—not in order to put repressive measures into force against the Catholics, he assured the House, but simply "to insist upon our ascendency." Or, as he explained in 1874, "The object of that Bill was merely to assert the supremacy of the Crown. It was never intended to prosecute. Accordingly, a very clever artist represented me, in a caricature, as a boy who had chalked up 'No Popery' upon a wall[17] and then ran away. This was a very fair joke.... When my object had been gained, I had no objection to the repeal of the Bill." This gave Leech his chance, and he executed his famous cartoon of 'No Popery!' (March 22nd, 1851), which was among the greatest popular successes ever published by Punch—even his smart young rival, the "Man in the Moon," declaring that Punch had with his cut "wakened up those whom his letterpress had sent to sleep."

In his Reminiscences the Rev. William Rogers, Rector of St. Botolph's, Bishopsgate, tells the delightful sequel. When he called on Lord John, the Minister began to talk about the Charterhouse. "He said that he had lost his interest in the latter since his patronage had been taken away. I thought this pretty good for Whig doctrine. 'No,' he went on, 'I never abused my patronage. Do you remember a cartoon in Punch where I was represented as a little boy writing 'No Popery' on a wall and running away?' I said that I did. 'Well,' he continued, 'that was very severe, and did my Government a great deal of harm; but I was so convinced that it was not maliciously meant that I sent for John Leech, and asked him what I could do for him. He said he should like a nomination for his son to Charterhouse, and I gave it him." This, surely, if it be true—for Mr. Silver has a very different story—was a "retort courteous" that would prove how deeply the cartoon went home. Were it true, it would show how the independence of Leech could be in no wise affected—though, going to the House one day, he was greatly struck with the extraordinary dignity of the Minister during his speech in the great debate on foreign policy (February 17th, 1854), when the Crimean War with Russia threatened.

In Mr. Gladstone's "great Edinburgh speech" of the autumn of 1893 the veteran Premier said that Punch, "whenever it can, manifests the Liberal sentiments by which it was governed from the first." And naturally, as a consistent Liberal supporter, it as consistently attacked the Tory party. Says Mr. Ruskin in one of his lectures on "The Art of England:" "You must be clear about Punch's politics. He is a polite Whig, with a sentimental respect for the Crown, and a practical respect for property. He steadily flatters Lord Palmerston, from his heart adores Mr. Gladstone. Steadily, but not virulently, caricatures Mr. D'Israeli; violently and virulently castigates assault upon property in any kind, and holds up for the general idea of perfection, to be aimed at by all the children of heaven and earth, the British Hunting Squire, the British Colonel, and the British sailor."

This persistent opposition to Disraeli throughout his whole career—an hostility more bitter than perhaps might have been expected from Ruskin's "polite Whig"—was esteemed at its full importance by the object of it, though it was accepted by him, as similar attacks are accepted by all great minds, in excellent part. Nevertheless, after only three or four years of attack, he made a determined though unsuccessful attempt to conciliate his pungent critic. Vizetelly, in his "Glances Back through Seventy Years," tells the story with all the interest belonging to a personal recollection.

"In the summer of 1845," he says, "Mr. Disraeli took the chair at the annual dinner of the 'Printers' Pension Society,' when the stewards, of whom I was one, received him in the drawing-room of the 'Albion,' in Aldersgate Street. Immediately after his entrance he posted himself in a nonchalant fashion with his back to the mantelpiece, and his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, an attitude Thackeray was fond of assuming, and began to chat familiarly with those near him. In a minute or two he asked if Mr. Leech was present (Leech was one of the stewards), as if he would like to make his acquaintance. The famous Punch caricaturist thereupon stepped forward, and was duly introduced. Disraeli showed himself particularly gracious, and warmly congratulated the artist, whose pencil had lately been employed in satirising him in a disparaging fashion, depicting him as a nice young man for a small party, i.e. the Young England party, as a Jew dealer in cast-off notions, and as a young Gulliver before the Brobdingnag Minister (Sir R. Peel). Disraeli tried his hardest to ingratiate himself with the distinguished caricaturist, but Leech, proof against the wiles of the charmer, rejoined some months afterwards with the famous cartoon wherein Disraeli, who had lately proclaimed that, although the cause was lost, there should be some retribution for those who betrayed it, figured as a spiteful ringletted viper, and Peel as a smiling unconcerned old file.

"During the dinner the chairman did his best to make himself pleasant, and hobbed and nobbed unreservedly with his immediate neighbours.... When the toasts had been drunk and the secretary had read out the list of subscriptions and the quiet family-men had hurried off to catch the last suburban omnibus, Mr. Disraeli showed no disposition to vacate the chair. Seeing this, the remaining guests drew up to his end of the table, and a lively discourse ensued, in which a casual allusion to Punch was made. Disraeli profited by this by rising to his feet, and in a clever and amusing speech proposed the health of Mr. Punch, towards whom, he protested, he felt no kind of malice on account of any strictures, pictorial or verbal, which that individual might have passed upon him. Everybody entered into the spirit of the joke, and after the toasts had been drunk, calls were made indifferently upon Lemon and a Beckett, both of whom were present, to respond. Mark, however, rose, and in a brief and witty speech returned thanks for the honour that had been done, as he neatly put it, to an absent friend.

"Disraeli's amiable advances availed him nothing. For a long time afterwards Punch gave no quarter to the 'Red Indian of debate' who, as Sir James Graham pithily phrased it, 'cut his way to power with a tomahawk.' The time came, however, when Disraeli could show his magnanimity. Leech, who had satirised him weekly, and so familiarised everyone with his face and figure that an aristocratic little damsel, on being presented to him, exclaimed, 'I know you! I've seen you in Punch!'—Leech had had a pension given to him by the Liberals, and when he died the pension would have died with him, had not Disraeli, who had at last risen to power, interposed and secured it to the family." And so Leech, who apparently could not make an enemy, was indebted to the generosity of his victims for two of the greatest services that were rendered to him and his.

Lord Beaconsfield himself acknowledged in his latest book, "Endymion," his respect for Punch's influence at that time, as well as his desire to temper the ardour of its attacks if not to secure its silence, for he there explains how the hero, who to some degree at least is to be considered an autobiographical study, "flattered himself that 'Scaramouche'" would regard him in a more friendly spirit. Punch, with pardonable pride, devoted a cartoon to this pointed reference, but merely remarking, "H'm—he did flatter himself," abated not one jot of his caustic criticism.

But for all the failure of his advances, and for all his sensitiveness—so far as he could be said to be sensitive at all—Beaconsfield kept a close eye on Punch, and kept many, if not all, of the cartoons in which he figured. Similarly did Napoleon III. love to collect all those of himself which he could obtain, and pore over them at intervals, even in those sadly fallen times he spent at Chislehurst. And he had material for reflection enough, for in no way, I take it, can a public man learn what a world of savagery, hatred, cruelty, and uncharitableness lies, not so much in man's mind, but in that corner of it which we euphemistically term his "humour," as in following the handiwork of the political caricaturist of France. Mr. Spurgeon, too, used to keep all the cartoons and caricatures that sought to turn him to ridicule; and Lord Beaconsfield, like the Prince Consort, Lord Randolph Churchill (who possessed several of the original Punch drawings into which he had been introduced), among other politicians of the day, kept these artistic instruments of political torture before him, as a man treasures in his locket the hair of the dog that bit him. A visitor to Hughenden gave, in the "Dublin Mail," an interesting illustration of this tribute to the comic press. He was waiting in an ante-chamber, "and while passing the time my attention was attracted to a clever sketch of the then Prime Minister, depicted as Hamlet, seated at a table covered with innumerable documents, the text quotation being, 'The time is out of joint. O Cursed spite, That [ever] I was born to set it right!' I was smiling at the picture, which, I may add, was a cut out of Punch, and framed, when the Prime Minister entered with the gentleman who was to present me, and finding me gazing at the sketch Lord Beaconsfield said, 'Yes, that is one of the best caricatures of me that has yet appeared, and, strange to say, the artist has neither presented me with donkey's ears nor cloven hoofs. I feel very much flattered!' Lord Beaconsfield took an interest in all the caricatures that appeared of him, and at the time he died he had several hundreds in his possession."

Mr. Gladstone, who, we have often been assured, has not the gift of humour, has at least enjoyed Punch's good-natured yet occasionally severe raillery, and in the same Edinburgh speech to which reference has already been made, he recalled with much relish how, in connection with the rejection of the Paper Duty Bill, he was represented in a cartoon as being decorated by the triumphant Lord Derby—the Lord Derby of that day, who led the House of Lords—with an immense sheet of paper made into a fool's-cap, which he dropped upon his head. Mr. Goschen took a still more exalted view of Punch's prestige when he declared (at Rugby, November, 1881) that "he had since attained to the highest ambition which a statesman can reach—namely, to have a cartoon in Punch all to himself."



But hardly less important, in many a public man's opinion, than the sardonic significance of Punch's treatment of him in the cartoon, is the degree of facial resemblance achieved by the artist. It is undeniable that a likeness which is only half a likeness will often rob an otherwise admirable cartoon of half its success, just as it was oftentimes the excellence of the portraiture which more than counterbalanced the weakness of HB's sketches. Lord Brougham always flattered himself that Punch's portraits of him did not do him justice, and John Forster, in his "Life of Dickens," bears witness to it. "Lord Carlisle repeated what the good old Brougham had said to him of 'those Punch people,' expressing what was really his fixed belief, 'They never get my face, and are obliged to put up with my plaid trousers.'" But another writer, on the contrary, states that Lord Brougham "himself admits that the Punch likenesses are the best. Of course, they are a little exaggerated, but not so much so as many with whom I have chatted on the subject are apt to suppose;" while Motley, the American Minister, declared, after an official meeting with the grim old lord, "He is exactly like the pictures in Punch, only Punch flatters him. The common pictures of Palmerston and Lord John Russell are not at all like, to my mind; but Brougham is always hit exactly." Leech, indeed, enjoyed nothing more than caricaturing him, one of the most precious butts Punch ever took to himself, until he was twitted in the "Puppet-Show" at the liberties he took: "The proprietors will be compelled to widen the columns of their journal ... to show, as far as space will admit, to what lengths a nose may go in the hands of an unprincipled illustrator." But it was not only that Punch delighted in toying with Lord Brougham's cantankerousness and his peculiarities of manner and diction—as in the famous cartoon of Lord Brougham as Mrs. Caudle, of the original sketch for which a reproduction is given opposite—but he steadily carried into execution his threat of earlier days, to drag Lord Brougham "in the mire." He has been as good as his word ever since the day when Dicky Doyle drew the famous cover which is familiar to us all—that is to say, in 1849—for, as you will see if you will refer to last week's Punch, a young faun in the grand procession that appears as a relievo upon the podium or base draws along the mask of Brougham by a string. But without doubt one of the most successful cartoons Leech ever drew, and the most humorous portrait of Brougham, represented him as a clown at Astley's, going up to the splendid ring-master, the Duke of Wellington (as Mr. Widdicomb of Astley's Amphitheatre) and saying "Well, Mr. Wellington, is there anything I can do for you—for to run, for to fetch, for to carry, for to borrow, for to steal?" As Lord Brougham was suspected of undue complaisance towards the Duke at the time, the neatness of the political allusion was received with extraordinary favour by the public.

Another admirable portrait, consistently good, was that of Sir Robert Peel: so good, indeed, that when it was proposed to erect a statue to the statesman, and the best of all likenesses was sought as a guide to the sculptor—a resemblance truthful in feature and natural expression—the choice fell on a cartoon by Leech, and according to that drawing the head was modelled. Palmerston, too, was not a little impressed when in Wales a postman spoke to him as though he knew him, and replied, when questioned as to the recognition, "Seen your picture in Punch, my lord."



But Punch, it must be admitted, has often departed from the solemn truth, both unintentionally and of malice aforethought. It was his common practice to put a straw into Lord Palmerston's mouth. Palmerston, of course, never did chew straws; but one was adopted as a symbol to show his cool and sportive nature. Many a time has that straw formed the topic of serious discussion by serious writers. Some have pretended that it was designed to typify an expression used by one of his admiring followers in the House—a tribute to his "stable character;" others have said that it became his attribute from the time that he described himself as "playing the part of judicious Bottle-Holder to the pugnacious Powers of Europe;" and Mark Lemon declared that it was simply used as a sort of trade-mark whereby he might be known again, just as Mr. Harry Furniss invented Mr. Gladstone's collars, Lord Randolph Churchill's diminutiveness, and exaggerated those complacent smiles and oily rippling chins of Sir William Harcourt, continuing them long after the time when Sir William could boast the local portliness no more. However, it is certain that the sprig of straw, which really referred only to his pure devotion to the Turf, from 1815 onwards, was first used in 1851, just after the whimsical "Judicious Bottle-Holder" declaration, and, as a matter of fact, added not a little to Palmerston's popularity, as not only representing the Turf, but a Sam Weller-like calmness, alertness, and good-humour.

Similarly both Leech and Tenniel were in the habit of giving Bright an eye-glass. "Some of us remember seeing him wear a coat with a stand-up collar in the House of Commons," said a writer in the "Daily Telegraph," "and a broad-brimmed hat; but 'why,' he used to ask with a merry face, 'did Punch always put an eye-glass in my eye? I never wore a single eye-glass!'" That was just the point; for no doubt the simple reason was that the addition of a monocle was supposed to lend a sort of rakish appearance to the solemn Quaker, and belonged to the same genus of perverse jocularity as that which suggested three hats as the humorous covering for young Disraeli's head. Mr. W. H. Smith in like manner genially protested at a complimentary dinner in 1877 against the liberties taken with his person. "As to Punch," he said, "whose remarks have been mentioned, I beg leave to say that I do not go to sea in uniform, or exhibit those very queer expressions of face depicted by Punch's artists."

There are some men whose physiognomies defy the deftest pencils. Such a one was Cobden, whose views Punch represented far more faithfully and sympathetically than his face. At the Cobden dinner of 1884 Lord Carlingford drew fresh attention to the point: "Cobden's was, for some reason which I never heard explained, a most difficult face to sketch, and Punch was in despair at the impossibility of producing a caricature that could be recognised without explanatory text. Many of the artists tried Cobden, and were floored over him. Leech and Tenniel both confessed that they could not hit the familiar expression. Somehow, they never did hit it, though photography came by-and-by to their aid." The statement is perfectly true, but the reason is not hard to find: simply that a shaven face, without well-marked features or strong lines of character, and, above all, without angularities, gives the artist extremely little to "take hold of." For that reason such faces as those of Lord Rosebery, Mr. Asquith, and Mr. John Morley (of the latter of whom Mr. Furniss used to say the true characteristic expression is only to be found in his red cravat) are as often failures as successes, in even the skilfullest hands. It is the fault of neither the artist nor the person misrepresented; according to Mr. Lucy—it is "the act of God."

Before the days of photography the work of the caricaturist was harder than it is now. Draughtsmen had to be familiar with the faces of the leading men of the day—even as Leech was, by "getting them" into their sketch-books by hook or by crook, or else they would accept the portrait already published by a brother-artist. Even to-day it sometimes occurs that a man of importance has not been photographed. In that case he must be sketched or remembered, or his portrait "faked up" on the block until it bears some resemblance to the person required. But, passing from mere portraiture to the realisation of ideas, the artist feels his liberty, and gives his genius full rein. Thus it is that Punch has always been happy and successful in his "types." It is thoroughly in the spirit of caricature that types should be established and adhered to in order to express, in symbolic form, nations and even ideas. Not only is it poetical, it is convenient; and has perforce been adopted in every country where political caricature is employed, though with standards and notions very different from our own. In Italy, for example, and in a minor degree in Germany, John Bull, as the symbol of Great Britain, is usually represented by a travesty of Punch's, with a brutal head and bandy legs, and the whole figure bent in body to suggest a bull, horns sometimes protruding beside the hat; while Russia is courteously represented as a frantic Cossack of terrific mien, brandishing a knout with violent and savage intent. We may claim that our types, as invented by Punch, are of immeasurable superiority, whether of conception or of realisation. Our John Bull—a lineal descendant probably of Gillray's favourite representation of George the Third as "Farmer Gearge"—is a fine noble fellow enough as drawn by Leech and developed by Tenniel; indeed, in the drawings of the latter may often be seen the idealised face of Mark Lemon, his jovial Editor.

This view of the type of England has attracted the attention of Ruskin. "Is it not surely," he asks, "some overruling power in the nature of things, quite other than the desire of his readers, which compels Mr. Punch, when the squire, the colonel, and the admiral are to be at once expressed, together with all that they legislate or fight for, in the symbolic figure of the nation, to present the incarnate Mr. Bull always as a farmer—never as a manufacturer or shopkeeper—and to conceive and exhibit him rather as paymaster for the faults of his neighbours than as watching for opportunity of gain out of their follies?" And again, "... considering Punch as the expression of the popular voice, which he virtually is, and even somewhat obsequiously, is it not wonderful that he has never a word to say for the British manufacturer, and that the true citizen of his own city is represented by him only under the types either of Sir Pompey Bedell or of the more tranquil magnate and potentate, the bulwark of British constitutional principles and initiator of British private enterprise, Mr. John Smith?"



It is true that Punch has imposed upon a nation a character which, as depicted, is unknown in the land, and placed him in a line of business notoriously dissimilar from that in which he really engages; and the sum-total of it all is greatly to the credit of Mr. Punch's influence. He has, in fact, "educated" a nation. For to this day, no sooner does each succeeding Wednesday spread the new issue over the country than a mass of newspapers, both in England and in the colonies, immediately describe and discuss "This week's cartoon" for the edification of their readers. And so we have come to accept these types until they have almost grown into concrete ideas—conventions which have been given to us chiefly by Sir John Tenniel—Britannia and Father Time, the New Year and the Old, Cousin Jonathan (or Uncle Sam) and Columbia, Death and Crime, Starvation and Disease, Peace and War, Justice and Anarchy, the British Lion (might not the symbol nowadays be more appropriately the British Racehorse?), the Bengal Tiger, the Russian Bear, the Eagle, and all the rest. And could they well be bettered?

FOOTNOTES:

[17] it was on Cardinal Wiseman's door, not upon a wall.



CHAPTER IX.

PUNCH ON THE WAR-PATH: ATTACK.

Punch lays about Him—Assaults the "Morning Post"—The Factitious "Jenkins"—Thackeray's Farewell—Mrs. Gamp (the "Morning Herald") and Mrs. Harris (the "Standard")—Lese Majeste!—The "Standard" Fulminates a Leader—The Retort—His Loyalty—Banters the Prince Consort—Tribute on the Prince's Death—Punch's Butts: Lord William Lennox—Jullien—Sir Peter Laurie—Harrison Ainsworth—Lytton—Turner—A Fallacy of Hope—Burne-Jones—Charles Kean—S. C. Hall as "Pecksniff"—James Silk Buckingham and the "British and Foreign Destitute"—Alfred Bunn—Punch's Waterloo: "A Word with Punch"—Bunn, Hot and Cross—A Second "Word" Prepared, but never Uttered—Other Points of Attack.

Though for many years Punch has claimed to be "everybody's friend," he would certainly not have done so during the earlier part of his career. Then he was constantly in the wars, not merely because he was criticising public men, attacking abuses, and making sport of his favourite butts; but because he had not yet learned to break away from the journalistic duelling that prevailed. In these more sophisticated days it is the usual aim of every prominent journal to ignore as far as possible the existence of its rivals; then, it was thought that that existence could be best undermined, if not absolutely cut short, by direct attack. Party spirit ran very high; and to Punch's undoubted strengthen serious writing was added a power of pungent wit and sarcasm unequalled by any rival. He thus became a very formidable adversary; and he knew it. But he did not put forth his full strength until he felt sure of his own firm establishment; nor did he turn his baton upon his brothers in the press until he had made a lively start upon individual statesmen and private persons, and formally set them up as his own particular Aunt Sallies for private and public practice.

His first onslaught on the daily press was made upon the "Morning Post" (p. 126, Vol. IV.), by the hand, not of Thackeray, as has hitherto been believed, but of Douglas Jerrold, under the title of "The 'Post' at the Opera." The tone of that newspaper was irresistible to the democrats of Punch; and Thackeray, Leech, and a Beckett took up the running with great glee. Jerrold and Thackeray chose to personify the paper by the creation of "Jenkins," and the "Jenkins Papers" soon became a recognised feature and one of the standard jokes of the paper. Leech's illustrations were every bit as good as the others' text; and even when the gentle Hine was called upon to make sketches upon the same subject, he found himself inspired like the rest. "Jenkins," the toady, and "Lickspittleoff," his "Russian editor," were grand sport in the office, and their example was followed—not a little to their disgust—by the "Great Gun" and other papers. Soon after his first introduction (p. 123, Vol. V.) "Jenkins" was cast aside as a joke played out, and Thackeray took leave of him in the following amazing lines:—

"PUNCH'S PARTING TRIBUTE."

"Oh! Jenkins, homme du peuple—mangez bien![18] Desormais avec toi nous ferons rien, Vous etes tout use—chose qui montre la corde,[19] Nos lecteurs etaient mal de toi d'abord; Allez-vous-en—votre baton coupez vite, En Ponch jamais votre nom—desormais sera dite."

But when the possibilities of "Jenkins" were fully realised, he was revived, and for some years did excellent service as a subject for humorous attack.

A more serious campaign upon which Punch now entered was that against the "Standard" and the "Morning Herald." He had with some astuteness, and doubtless not without sincerity, ranged himself on the side of the "Times," and threw himself into the fray with all the zest and some of the irresponsibility of the licensed jester.[20] "Martin Chuzzlewit" had already seized upon the town, and the names of Mrs. Gamp and Mrs. Harris were on everybody's lips. Punch chose to assume that the "Morning Herald" and the "Standard"—morning and evening papers then which represented the Conservative party, both of them until 1857 belonging to one proprietor—were edited respectively by the two ladies aforesaid. The "Standard" was very wroth. It would not have been so sore perhaps at being dubbed "Betsy Prig;" but, being in fact almost a reprint of the "Herald," the suggestion of "Mrs. Harris"—a creature of no existence, the mere reflex of Mrs. Gamp's own inane and besodden brain—was too calmly provoking, as it was meant to be, to be borne in silence. These two journals were highly unpopular at the time; for the "Manchester School" was making headway, and Free Trade was already a powerful and significant cry. So when Punch laughed at them for two—though really one—disreputable old women, and Leech's inimitable pencil typified them as such, in mob-cap and pattens, the public laughed with him, whatever their own political opinion might be. It should be noted, however, that Punch's first brush with the "Herald" was personal, not political. In February, 1843, the latter journal had fathered upon Punch a poor joke of which he was entirely innocent, and which he repudiated in an article entitled "Impudent Attempt at Fraud." The quarrel thus begun in fun was continued in earnest, and soon the "Herald," as a representative of public opinion, had no more damaging assailant than "our humorous contemporary."

Now, in November, 1845, there appeared a reference to "Mrs. Harris, Editress of the Standard," as well as a drawing by Leech, called "Maternal Solicitude," which was intended to satirise the snobbery of persons who name their children after the Royal Family. It represents the visit of one lady to another, while a pair of repulsive-looking brats of one of them make up the group. "And the dear children?" asks the friend. "Why," replies the fond mother, "Alexandrina Victoria is a good deal better; but dear little Albert here is still very delicate."

Thereupon the "Standard" opened the floodgates of its anger in a leading article, the whole tone of which is a curious contrast to its dignity and moderation at the present day. In the course of its outburst it said:—

Still not one word from the "Times" in support of its charge of the exercise of Court influence at the Windsor Election. As usual, however, ... its toadies are active and noisy.... To-day we, of course, find Punch the most abject, probably, of all the "Times" toadies, discharging the duties of its mean avocation in an article libelling the successful candidate, libelling the military, libelling the young gentlemen of Eton, and ascribing Colonel Reid's return to "kitchen-stairs influence" emanating from the Castle..... If there were any fun in the article to which we refer, we might forgive the malice and falsehood, as we are all too much disposed to do, for the joke's sake; but dull as all the articles of Punch have been lately growing, this article on the Windsor Election is the stupidest that we have seen in its columns—a mere display of heavy spitefulness. We should probably have overlooked this piece of impertinence had Punch confined itself to letterpress in its toady vindication of the quarrel of the "Times;" but in the 222nd page of the number which contains the Windsor Election article, there is a disgusting caricature of the Queen and her family, the most false and unjust in what it implies that it is possible to conceive, and the most offensive to the feelings of a mother. The effect of such an insult to a Sovereign the object of her people's respect and love will, we imagine, be different from what the "Times" and its toadies anticipate. At all events, such insults will not, in the absence of all proof, render credible the false allegation of the exercise of Court influence, or enable the "Times" to get rid of our challenge, which we again repeat—this is a point from which we shall not be driven, until we have a direct answer from the "Times" itself, not from its toadies. The Queen may be libelled as the Punch, "Times," and "Examiner" libel her Majesty, if Sir Frederick Thesiger permit; but our Sovereign shall not be belied while we have the power to expose the fabricators of falsehood and their fabrications.



One may well wonder whether the "Standard" was really serious, or only "making believe" in order to strengthen its attack upon the "Times." But it suited Punch to take the outburst seriously, though with provoking calmness. First retorting that it is well that the editress of the "Standard"—he invariably referred to "the editress"—wears pattens as a precaution which the nature of her walks renders very necessary, although they are constantly tripping her up, Punch quietly remarked that "'Our Grandmother' must surely have taken an additional drop of 'something comfortable';" "and Leech parodied Phiz" etching of Mrs. Gamp and Betsy Prig, in which "the editress" declares, "As for that nasty, hojus Punch, I'm dispoged to scratch 'is hi's out a'most. What I ses, I ses; and what I ses, I sticks to." The campaign was conducted with considerable spirit by Gilbert a Beckett and Percival Leigh, with slight assistance from Horace Mayhew; and was continued with remorseless gaiety and bitterness for some years. In the pages here devoted to Thackeray reference is made to the personal feeling which existed between him and the "Morning Post" and to the effective retaliation on the part of that newspaper.

Punch's loyalty, as a matter of fact, has always been above suspicion and above proof. Democrat as he was, and independent in his views, he was as indignant as the "Standard" itself when the half-demented Bean made his attempt upon the Queen's life; yet gleeful to a degree when his Liege Lady was called upon to pay income-tax precisely as all her subjects did. The birth of the Prince of Wales, which coincided with Lord Mayor's Day, provided Punch with an opportunity for showing much loyalty and more wit; and the interest with which he followed the education and amusements of the Heir-Apparent, the anxiety with which he made suggestions for the best appointments, in his nursery-household, to the office of the "Master of the (Rocking) Horse," the "Clerk of the Pea-Shooter," and so forth; the delight with which, by the hand of Leech (1846), he published a charming cartoon of the lad as a man-o'-war's man, thus popularising the dress of English boys, while the sketch itself was widely reproduced as a bronze or plaster group—all this proved the benevolent sentiments he entertained towards the Royal Family. This benevolence has cropped up again and again—when the Prince visited Canada and America (1860); when, in 1861, he went up to Trinity College, Cambridge (the Mayor and Corporation coming in for severe criticism, however, for their snobbish Address); when he married; when he fell ill and recovered; and when he celebrated his Jubilee—on which occasion Punch declared that "the longer he knew him the better he liked him"—a sentiment the genuineness of which could hardly have been questioned by any but the blindest of critics. From first to last Punch has been a respectful godfather, and a wise and kindly guardian.

Towards the Queen herself Punch has shown unswerving chivalry and reverence, even during the shouting days when democracy was more noisily republican than it is to-day. The Queen figures often in the earlier cartoons, and the care with which the draughtsmen sought to do justice to the pure outline of her fair face is at least a tribute to their good taste. Punch never affected to regard her as a mere figurehead, but always represented her in a position of authority, her Ministers in character of domestic servants taking her instructions, and not at all tendering advice; and every important incident in the life of the Queen has been touched upon with the utmost respect and sympathy.

But with the Prince Consort the case was somewhat different. As Mr. Burnand and Mr. Arthur a Beckett have written[21]:—

"It is strange to note that, until the hour of his death, the man whose memory is now universally respected was highly unpopular with the general public. The Democritus of Fleet Street was, and is, essentially representative, and the popular opinion of the merits or demerits of H.R.H. is constantly shown. Only a few weeks after the cartoon" [of the Prince Consort tying up his door-knocker on the occasion of the birth of the Princess Beatrice] "Mr. Punch is drawn looking at the portrait of the Prince Consort at a review at the Royal Academy, and saying, "No. 24. A field-marshal; h'm—very good indeed. What sanguinary engagement can it be?" That these satirical observations were made simply at Prince Albert's expense, and were not intended to reflect upon the Queen or the rest of the Royal Family, is shown by the extremely hearty manner in which the marriage of the Princess Royal was welcomed by Mr. Punch as representing the English feeling. John Bull is heard saying, as he hands over to the Imperial Princess of Germany her dowry, 'There, my child! God bless you! And may you make as good a wife as your mother.'"

It is probable that the real source of the Prince Consort's unpopularity was his foreign nationality, added to the ignorance of the people of his enthusiasm and indefatigable efforts for the public weal. His rapid promotion in military rank, already referred to, was not appreciated in the country, and was mercilessly lampooned in Punch; and attention was attracted to the fact that from that time forward the Duke of Wellington always prefixed the initials "F.M." in his short, brusque third-person letters. "H.R.H. F.M. Paterfamilias" was for some time one of the chief of Punch's stock jests. The Prince was pursued into his private apartments, and shown as a pere de famille in not the most respectful spirit. In one picture he is represented in his dressing-gown conferring upon "P—pps the Fortunate" the Knighthood of the Shower Bath; in others, the effect of Time upon his head and figure are dwelt upon with real sardonic relish. The misapprehensions of the public were not unnaturally reflected by Punch, and a cut was much applauded in which the Prince was shown stopped by a policeman in Trafalgar Square when in the act of removing a couple of pictures from the National Gallery. Punch pointedly inquires, "Taking them to Kensington Gore? Suppose you leave 'em where they are, eh?"

More justifiable perhaps, but still somewhat harsh, was Punch's protest (1854) against the Prince's supposed interference in State politics. He is shown skating on the ice, warned off by Mr. Punch from a section of it labelled "Foreign Affairs—Dangerous." And in the same year he is attacked with extraordinary gusto by reason of the new hat he had devised for the British army—or, at least, for the Guards. In 1843 the first "Albert shako" had appeared, and Leech, in a cartoon called "Prince Albert's Studio," exhibited it as a pretended work of art in the most ludicrous light. Again, in 1847 the Prince had invented a similar headgear, popularly christened "the Albert Hat," which Punch converted to his uses and worked to death. "The New Albert Bonnet for the Guards" ridicules the idea unmercifully, and "the British Grenadier as improved by His Royal Highness Prince Albert, decidedly calculated to frighten the Russians," was another grotesque perversion of a praiseworthy attempt with which Mr. Punch was in his heart a good deal in sympathy. For his artists were as diligent as the Prince in trying to improve the uniform of the British soldier, contrasting with its wretched inconvenience the serviceability and ease of the sailor's. The drawing in which a private, half choked by his stock, held helplessly rigid by his straps and buckles, and unable to hold his gun as his "head's coming off!" illustrates the fact that Punch's views and Prince Albert's had much in common. We have the authority of Sir Theodore Martin, in his biography (Vol. II., p. 299), that the Prince Consort took Punch's humours in very good part, and made a large collection of the caricatures of the day, in the belief that in them alone could the true position of a public man be recognised. But it is said that soon after this last crusade a hint was received from Windsor Castle to the effect that a little less personality and a little more justice in respect to the Prince would be appreciated, as much by the people as by the Court. It is certain that after this time the attacks practically came to an end. And when the Prince died, there were few truer mourners in the land, and the widowed Queen had few sincerer sympathisers, than the jester whose raillery had been so keen, and who felt too late a generous remorse.

"It was too soon to die," wrote Shirley Brooks in a poem called, simply, "Albert, December Fourteenth, 1861"—

"It was too soon to die. Yet, might we count his years by triumphs won, By wise, and bold, and Christian duties done, It were no brief eventless history.

* * * * *

"Could there be closer tie 'Twixt us, who, sorrowing, own a nation's debt, And Her, our own dear Lady, who as yet Must meet her sudden woe with tearless eye:

"When with a kind relief Those eyes rain tears, O might this thought employ! Him whom she loved we loved. We shared her joy, And will not be denied to share her grief."

Punch always had a number of butts on hand—men whom he attacked for their delinquencies, real or imaginary, or whom on account of idiosyncrasies he thought to be fair game, just for the fun of it. One of the first of these was Lord William Lennox, a nobleman of literary pretensions, whose efforts, however, were said to be more pretentious than literary. His novel of "The Tuft-Hunter" was quickly "spotted" by the critics, and Hood was the first to declare that the book was little else than a patchwork from his own "Tylney Hall," from "The Lion," and from Scott's "Antiquary," though the "names and epithets" were changed. "Such kind of borrowing as this," Milton has said, "if it be not bettered by the borrower, among good authors is accounted plagiare;" and as plagiarism of the most unblushing character Punch adjudged it. Hood himself contributed his mite to the discussion in the paper in the form of the following:—

"EPIGRAM

"On the 'Tuft-Hunter,' by Lord William Lennox.

"A duke once declared—and most solemnly, too—That whatever he liked with his own he would do; But the son of a duke has gone further and shown He will do what he likes when it isn't his own!"

And it was Hood who inspired Jerrold with the idea of the biting article headed "Daring Robbery by a Noble Lord-Punch's Police." In this instance Punch was genuinely indignant, and he proceeded to make Lord William's life a burden to him with such announcements as: "Shortly will be published, in two volumes, 8vo, a new work, entitled 'Future and Never,' by Lord W. Lennox, author of Carlyle's 'Past and Present,' etc. etc., and of Wordsworth's 'We are Six and One';" and again "Prize Comedy by Lord W. Lennox: 'Academy for Scandal';" while a portion of Punch's preface to his sixth volume (1844) was supposed to be written by Lord William, and presented a most laughable compound of sayings and quotations, with slight alteration, from well-known authors. But when Punch dropped him, the unhappy author was not left alone, for the "Great Gun" and other journals picked him up, and played with what remained of his literary reputation.

It was in his second number that Punch began his persistent ridicule of Jullien, the famous chef d'orchestre who introduced the Promenade Concerts to Drury Lane, with such prodigious success. The poem, from the pen of W. H. Wills, began characteristically—"One—crash! Two—clash! Three—dash! Four—smash!!" and, not wholly without malevolence, described the popular conductor as a

"ci-devant waiter Of a quarante-sous traiteur "—

thus laying the foundation for the charges of musical ignorance, illiteracy, musical-"ghost"-employment, and other imposture, under which he suffered in this country nearly all his life. Jullien indignantly denied the hard impeachment, and declared that he began his musical life as a fifer in the French navy, and had in that capacity been present on a man-o'-war at the battle of Solferino in 1829. His assailant accepted the statement as to his military achievement, adding the suggestion that after working himself up to more than concert pitch, and "holding in his hand one sharp, which he turned into several flats," Jullien withdrew from the service on account of the discord of battle, particularly as the shrieks of the wounded were horribly out of tune.

Punch fell back on Jullien's well-oiled ringlets, his general tenue and violent gesticulation, and, with better cause, on his "Row Polka," and on those wild and frenzied quadrilles in which the music in one part was "accentuated with a salvo of artillery." But Punch, ignoring the better part of Jullien's musical ability, made no allowance for the curious quality of his mind, which was evidently ill-balanced, and indeed was finally overthrown. Jullien's vanity, for example, was sublime, rivalling that of the Knellers and Greuzes of earlier days; and his biographer sets forth how, in the scheme he imagined for the civilisation of the world by means of music, he had determined (though essentially a "dance musician") to set to music the Lord's Prayer. It could not fail, said Jullien, to be an unprecedented success, with two of the greatest names in history on its title-page! The musician ultimately died through over-work, the consequence of an honourable attempt to meet his liabilities.

Sir Peter Laurie was another favourite quarry, who almost from the beginning was singled out of the Corporation, of which he was really one of the most efficient members, because he aimed at "putting down" by the stern administration of justice what, perhaps, could only be dealt with by sympathy. Punch chose to interpret Sir Peter's views into regarding poverty less as a misfortune than as prima-facie evidence of the poor man's guilt or folly; but it was when the well-meaning alderman so far "opened his mouth as to put his foot into it," by declaring, when trying a case, "that it was his intention to put down suicide," that Jerrold's pen stuck him on to Punch's page, and heaped ridicule on him from every point of view. Alderman Moon, the famous print-seller of Threadneedle Street, was another butt—the more unjustly (though he certainly did sometimes cut a ridiculous figure) as he rendered real service to artists, and looked upon English art and its patronage in a broad and patriotic way, even while he made his own fortune in doing so. This, however, he did not succeed in retaining, and his acts and motives were sneered at, and his "testimonial" fatally ridiculed.

Then Harrison Ainsworth, as much for his good-looks and his literary vanity, as for his tendency to reprint his romances in such journals as came under his editorship, was the object of constant banter. An epigram put the case very neatly:—

Says Ainsworth to Colburn,[22] "A plan in my pate is, To give my romance, as A supplement, gratis." Says Colburn to Ainsworth, "'Twill do very nicely, For that will be charging Its value precisely."

Harrison Ainsworth could not have his portrait painted, nor write a novel of crime and sensation, without being regarded as a convenient peg for pleasantry. Similarly did Tom Taylor fall foul of Bulwer Lytton (p. 91, Vol. IX.) by reason of the dedication of "Zanoni" to Gibson the sculptor, in which it was said that the book was not for "the common herd." The story of Lytton's castigation by Tennyson is duly related where the Laureate's contributions to Punch are spoken of. In Lytton's case, at least, Punch forgot to apply Swift's aphorism that a man has just as much vanity as he has understanding.

Of the artists, Turner perhaps lent himself most to Punch's satire. Ruskin had not yet arisen to champion the mighty painter's ill-appreciated art; and Turner's colour-dreams, in which "form" was often to a great extent ignored, were not more tempting to the satirical Philistine than those extraordinary quotations from his formless epic, called "The Fallacies of Hope," extracts from which he loved to append to his pictures' titles. Nothing could be better in the way of satire than the manner in which Punch turned upon the poor painter, and "guy'd" his picture with a burlesque of his own poetic "style." It was in the Royal Academy of 1845 that the artist exhibited his celebrated "Venice—Returning from the Ball;" and this is how Punch received it:—

"Oh! what a scene!—Can this be Venice? No. And yet methinks it is—because I see Amid the lumps of yellow, red, and blue Something which looks like a Venetian spire.

* * * * *

This in my picture I would fain convey; I hope I do. Alas! What FALLACY!"

Turner, unhappily, was acutely sensitive to these attacks; but Punch cared little for that, and probably—to do him justice—knew still less. It is, however, notable that—doubtless on account of that very common-sense which has nearly always kept him right on great questions—Punch has usually in art been nearly as much a Philistine as the public he represents. When Sir Edward Burne-Jones burst forth into the artistic firmament, Punch joined, if not the mockers, at least the severer critics. "BURN JONES?" said he; "by all means do." Of the exquisite "Mirror of Venus" and "The Beguiling of Merlin" he ignored the poetry, and saw little but the quaintness, his criticism being the more weighty for its being clever. Of the first-named picture he observed:—

"Or crowding round one pool, from flowery shelves A group of damsels bowed the knee Over reflections solid as themselves And like as peasen be."

While in the latter

"... mythic Uther's diddled son was seen Packed in a trunk with cramped limbs awry, Spell-fettered by a Siren, limp and lean, And at least twelve heads high."

No doubt, the grounds of Punch's opposition were not only those which are recognised as belonging to the humorist; they consisted not a little in that healthy hatred of the affectation with which so much good art is husked. In more recent times Punch did not ignore the fine decorative qualities of Mr. Aubrey Beardsley's art, though he plainly loathed the morbid ugliness of much of its conception and detail.

Perhaps no one was more heartily attacked than Charles Kean—"Young Kean," it was the fashion to call him—probably because between Jerrold and the actor there had been a serious quarrel. As to this, which took its rise in the pre-Punch days, nothing need here be said; it is fully dealt with in the wit's biography. In the words of the present Editor: "Only tardily was something like justice done to Kean's influence on the drama of our time, by Punch, who had been one of the first to sound the note of warning about that 'stage-upholstery' which was the first sign of the growth of realism in dramatic art." Punch loved to contrast the younger Kean with his more gifted father, and had no patience with the raucous voice and bad enunciation of the son; but his sketch of the actor as Sardanapalus (1853), "with a wine-cup of the period," sets on record one of the most perfect archaeological revivals that had ever been seen on the English stage. But it was Kean's "Mephistopheles" (1854) that afforded Punch his chance, for the actor's realisation was so wide of Goethe's creation that it was a Frenchified demon, played as a comic character. Punch admitted the beauty of the production, but said that "as a piece of show and mechanism (wires unseen) it will draw the eyes of the town, especially the eyes with the least brains behind them." Kean's performance was denounced as devoid of life and beauty, but generous praise was accorded to his newly made-up nose, to which the best part of the criticism was devoted. "It has the true demoniacal curve," he said; "we never saw a better view of the devil's bridge." And so, throughout, Punch dogged Kean's progress. But as time went on, his criticism lost the taint of personal feeling; and Kean was recognised at last as our leading tragedian, though to the end he was never accepted as a great actor.

A pretty accurate estimate as to Punch's pet "black beasts" and popular butts at this time may be formed by the list drawn up in the paper of those persons whom Punch would exercise his right to "challenge" if, in accordance with Mr. Serjeant Murphy's suggestion in the House of Commons, Punch were put upon his trial for conspiracy, apropos of Cobden. From such a jury, we are told, there would be struck off, in addition to those names already given, Mr. Grant (author of "The Great Metropolis"), Baron Nathan the composer, Alderman Gibbs, D. W. Osbaldiston (of the Surrey Theatre), Colonel Sibthorpe, and Moses the tailor.

In dealing with the work of Jerrold, I draw attention to the merciless onslaught on Samuel Carter Hall, editor of the "Art Journal" and founder of the "Art Union," as it was at first called. Hall was Pecksniff; the "Art Union" was "The Pecksniffery;" and Punch courted the libel action which Hall threatened but failed to bring. That "the literary Pecksniff" took this course could not but create a bad impression at the time, and Hall has therefore been put down as one of the butts whom Punch had justly assailed. Of course his sententious catch-phrase of appealing to "hand, head, and heart" was always made the most of, and Punch delighted in paraphrasing it as "gloves, hat, and waistcoat."

But the two non-political persons whom Punch most persistently and vigorously attacked were Mr. James Silk Buckingham and Mr. Alfred Bunn; and these two campaigns must, perhaps, be counted the most elaborate of their kind which Punch has undertaken in his career—though in neither had he very much to be proud of when all was said and done. Mr. J. S. Buckingham, sometime Member of Parliament, was a gentleman philanthropically inclined and of literary instincts, a man who had travelled greatly, and who in many of the schemes he had undertaken—including the founding of the "Athenaeum" in 1828—had usually had the support of a number of the most reputable persons in the country. His latest idea was the establishing of the British and Foreign Institute—a sort of counterpart in intention of the present Colonial Institute; but as all of Mr. Buckingham's schemes had not succeeded, and as he retained chambers in the club-house of what Punch insisted upon calling the "British and Foreign [or 'Outlandish'] Destitute," the journal was convinced that something more than a prima-facie case had been made out against the promoter, who, being assumed to live upon the members' subscriptions, was harried in the paper from its first volume, chiefly at first by the slashing pen of Jerrold, and—in small paragraphs—by the more delicate rapier of Horace Mayhew. These charges of mal-administration and other offensive imputations against a semi-public man whose chief faults seem to have been an over-sanguine temperament and a slight disposition towards self-advertisement, attracted wide notice, and Punch devoted in all considerable space to the prosecution of this mistaken campaign. Unfortunately for Buckingham, a member of the Institute, a Mr. George Jones—who had published a good deal of dramatic nonsense under the title of "Tecumseh"—came to his support with a ridiculous, inflated letter, which Punch promptly printed with the signature engraved in facsimile. Thereupon Jones, finding the doubtful honour of publicity unexpectedly thrust upon him, denounced the letter as a forgery; so Punch, had it lithographed and circulated among the members, "just to show how good the forgery was." Jones forthwith began an action for libel, which Punch defended. The genuineness of the document, however, was established, and Jones withdrew from the action, paying all costs.

The sins of Jones were naturally added to Buckingham's account, and the latter decided—as Leech once effectively threatened to do—to "draw" and defend himself. He published a pamphlet entitled "The Slanders of Punch" felicitously quoting as his motto from Proverbs xxvi. 18, "As a mad man who casteth firebrands, arrows, and death, so is the man that deceiveth his neighbour, and saith, Am not I in sport?"—he appealed for justice to the public, and especially to "the 200,000 readers of Punch" denouncing the persecution, and making known the fact that Jerrold had originally applied for membership of his Institute, but had failed to take up his election, whereupon his name was erased from the books. Ten thousand handbills were circulated, and six thousand copies of the threepenny pamphlet, in various editions, were sold. Punch's answer was a whole page of savage, biting satire from Jerrold (p. 241, Vol. IX.), which, however, was too bombastic and "ultrafluvial" to be wholly effective. Thackeray's page article on "John Jones's Remonstrance about the Buckingham Business" (p. 261) was far more to the point—amusing, politic, and shrewd—and drew the quarrel within its proper limits, by imparting to it a more jocular tone. Addressing the paper, he says, "At page 241 you are absolutely serious. That page of Punch is a take-in. Punch ought never to be virtuously indignant or absolutely serious;" and with these words, re-affirming the maxim which Punch had forgotten in his heat, he restored peace, patched up the paper's reputation for good-humour, and with a skilful word covered its retreat.

But Punch found his Waterloo, as it was considered at the time, at the hands of Alfred Bunn. Bunn was the theatrical and operatic manager and man of letters—or, rather, as the letters were so insignificant, the "man of notes." As early as 1816 he had produced a volume of verse. Such verse!—sentimental, washy, and "woolly" to a degree. Three years later he put his name to 'Tancred: a Tale,' by the author of 'Conrad: a Tragedy,' lately performed at the Theatre Royal, Birmingham—of which he was manager for a spell before he came to London—and from time to time he gave forth other works, such as "The Stage, both Before and Behind the Curtain," three volumes of rather shrewd "Observations taken on the Spot" (1840), and "Old England and New England" (1853). He delivered lectures, too, at the St. James's Theatre, three times a week, on the History of the Stage, and the Genius and Career of Shakespeare—lectures which he also delivered in America. His verses, though vapid balderdash for the most part, were well adapted to music, and his ballads "When other Lips and other Hearts," "The Light of other Days," "In Happy Moments Day by Day" (sung in Fitzball's "Maritana"), enjoyed enormous popularity.

Still, the whole attitude, the whole bearing of the man—his showy, almost comic, appearance and his grandiloquence of expression—as well as the tremendous character of the wording of his theatrical bills, afforded points of attack from the moment that he caught the public eye, that no caricaturist or humorist could resist. As early as 1832 Jerrold was lampooning him in his "Punch in London." In the following year Thackeray held him up to ridicule in his "National Standard," that was fated to collapse a few months later, and honoured him with immortality in "Flore and Zephyr;"[23] and soon after, Gilbert a Beckett satirised him in "Figaro in London." In 1833 "Alfred the Little; or, Management! A Play as rejected at Drury Lane, by a Star-gazer," was another satire of distinct severity.

It is not surprising, therefore, that as soon as Punch was started the wits combined to continue the game which they had already, separately enjoyed, and which the public presumably found amusing. The other papers joined in Punch's cry, the "Great Gun" showing pre-eminent zeal in its stalking of "Signor Bombastes Bunnerini." From the moment of Punch's birth onwards, Bunn was one of his most ludicrous and fairest butts. When he wrote verse, he was "The Poet Bunn;" when he was annoyed at that, or anything else, he was "Hot Cross Bunn." His deposition from the management of Drury Lane and his appointment to the Vauxhall Gardens were coincident with Punch's appearance, and the publication of his "Vauxhall Papers," illustrated by Alfred Crowquill, again drew attention to himself. No sooner was the fierce controversy begun as to the propriety of including a statue of Cromwell among the Sovereigns of England in the new Palace of Westminster, a matter decided fifty years later, than Punch gravely mooted the question—"Shall Poet Bunn have a Statue?" Then when his reign at Drury Lane was resumed, and opera was his grand enterprise, Bunn became Punch's "Parvus Apollo," while Scribe's libretto to Donizetti's music was to be "undone into English" by the Poet himself; and the persecuted manager was throughout the subject of some of the happiest and most comic efforts of Leech's pencil.

At last, after supporting a six years' persistent cannonade, Bunn determined to strike a blow for liberty. His plan was to issue a reply—a swift and sudden attack, as personal and offensive as he could make it—in the form of Punch's own self, enough like it in appearance to amuse the public, if not actually to deceive it. He secured the help of Mr. George Augustus Sala, then a young artist whose pencil was enlisted in the service of "The Man in the Moon," and who had as yet little idea of the journalistic eminence to which he was to rise. He had previously submitted sketches to Mark Lemon for use in Punch, which had been summarily and, as he tells me, "unctuously declined," and in his share of the work he doubtless tasted some of the sweets of revenge, and richly earned the epithet which Lemon thereupon applied to him of "graceless young whelp."

If the front page of this production be compared with Doyle's first Punch cover on p. 47, the extent of the imitation will be appreciated. The size was the same, and the Punch lettering practically identical; but otherwise the resemblance was of a general character. If the design is examined, it will be seen that the groups are chiefly composed of Punch's victims and his Staff. At the top the "Man in the Moon" presides; below, the "Great Gun" is firing away at the dejected hunchback in the pillory. Toby is hanged on his master's own gallows; and the puppets are strewn about. Thackeray leans for support against Punch's broken big drum; Tom Taylor is beside him—Horace ("Ponny") Mayhew lies helpless in his box; while next to him Gilbert a Beckett is prone upon his face, leaving his barrister's wig upon the "block-head." Jerrold, as a wasp, is gazing ruefully at the baton which has dropped from Punch's feeble hands; and Mark Lemon, dressed as a pot-boy, is straining himself in the foreground to reach his pewter-pot. Around float many of Punch's butts, political and social. Wellington on the left and Brougham on the right play cup-and-ball with him. Louis Philippe has him on a toasting-fork, and Lord John Russell hangs him on a gallows-tree. Palmerston, Prince de Joinville, Jullien, Sibthorpe, Moses the tailor, Buckingham, and many more besides, are to be recognised. It was inscribed "No. 1,—(to be continued if necessary)"—a contingency, however, that did not arise.

It is usually considered that Bunn engaged a clever writer to write his text for him; but it is quite likely that he wrote the whole work himself, simply submitting it to the "editing" of some more experienced journalist, probably Albert Smith. Much of the manner is his own, and, as Mr. Joseph Knight agrees,[24] it "has many marks of Bunn's style, and is in part incontestably his."

His "Word" is directed at Punch's "three Puppets—Wronghead (Mr. Douglas Jerrold), Sleekhead (Mr. Gilbert a Beckett), and Thickhead (Mr. Mark Lemon)—formidable names, Punch! and, as being three to one, formidable odds!" He refers to his friends having warned him not to rebel against Punch's attacks, as he is

a public character!! Pray, Punch, are not these, your puppets, public characters? Have they not acted in public, laboured for the public, catered for the public? Has not Douglas Jerrold been hissed off the stage by the public? Have not a Beckett's writings! been acted, and damned, in public? and as to Mark Lemon, there can be no doubt of his being a public character, for he some time since kept a public-house!!! All ceremony therefore is at an end between us.... There may be other misdemeanours of which they have from time to time thought me guilty; but the grand one of all is, that I have taken the liberty of attempting to write poetry, and have produced on the stage my own works in preference to theirs.... Did you ever see them act, Punch? Did you ever see Douglas Jerrold in his own piece, entitled "The Painter of Ghent"? If not, I can only say you are a devilish lucky fellow! Did you ever see him and Mark Lemon act at Miss Kelly's theatre? and if so, did you ever see such an awful exhibition?... and if, as they say, they did "hold the mirror up to Nature," I say it was only to cast reflections upon her!! Did you read, Punch, the criticisms written by themselves upon themselves in the next day's papers? If you did not, you have a treat to come.



And so forth. Then, presenting the head of Jerrold on the body of an unusually wriggling serpent, which he gives forth as being from "portraits in possession of the family," he goes on to "say something" of the man of savage sarcasm and "bilious bitings:"—

Now, with all his failings, let me record my opinion that it is to Jerrold's pen you are indebted, Punch, for the fame you once enjoyed; for, beyond any doubt, he is a fellow of infinite ability. I have known him some years, and the last time but one I ever saw him was in 1842, when, meeting me in St. James's Street, he thanked me for a handsome critique he believed me to have written on his comedy of "Bubbles of the Day," and on that occasion he said a better thing, Punch, than he has written in your pages. I said to him, "What, you are picking up character, I suppose?"—to which he replied, "There's plenty of it lost, in this neighbourhood." The last time I ever heard from him was during the first visit of Duprez to Drury Lane Theatre, when I received the following note from him:—

Wednesday. "MY DEAR SIR,

Will you enable me to hear your French nightingale—do pray,

Yours very truly, D. JERROLD."

—which is the vilest pun ever perpetrated at the expense of that eminent singer.... Unlike the other two of his party, he is a man of undoubted genius; but all who admit this, at the same time regret the frequent misdirection of his mind. He is one of the most ill-conditioned, spiteful, vindictive, and venomous writers in existence, and whatever honey was in his composition, has long since turned to gall.... Can it be possible [he adds, after digging up and quoting some of Jerrold's feeblest verse] that it never occurs to a wholesale dealer in slander and ridicule that he is liable to be assailed by the very weapons he useth against others?

Then comes the portrait of Gilbert Abbott a Beckett, in wig and gown, but with devil's hoofs and tail. On him the attack is savage in the extreme, the details of his early lack of financial success being published, and the whole dismissed with the comprehensive remark: "a very prolific person, this friend of yours, Punch!—editor of thirteen periodicals, and lessee of a theatre into the bargain, and all total failures!" After heavy-handed chaff he proceeds to abuse Mark Lemon, up and down, in similar terms; and with a view to show that others write verse as bad as his, reprints the weakest lines in his "Fridolin" and "The Rhine-boat." In the course of his very effective attack Bunn proceeds:—

In speaking of the Castle of Heidelberg, which he says is on the Rhine, although everyone else says it is on the Neckar, he thus apostrophises it:—

"'Tis here the north wind loves to hold His dreary revels, loud and cold, The nettle's bloom's his daily fare, The TOAD the guest most welcome there!!"

Whether the last line gives the reason why Thickhead visited Heidelberg does not appear.

He then dots epigrams and so forth—all insults of various degrees of offensiveness—about the remaining pages, virtually suggesting, in Sheridan's words, that while Punch's circulation has gone down hopelessly, "everything about him is a jest except his witticisms." The advertisements, too, are of a similarly satirical character, one of them showing, as an illustration of a "patent blacking," Mark Lemon (as pot-boy) looking at his own likeness in the polish of a Wellington boot which reflects a rearing donkey. The last cut represents a medicine bottle with a label inscribed "This dose to be repeated, should the patients require it," and the "Notice to Correspondents" declares that ample material is left for future use. Such further publication, however, was never called for. Punch attempted no reply—inexplicably, one would think, for there must have been something left to say of Hot Cross Bunn. Punch's rivals were not slow to twit him on his defeat, especially the "Puppet Show" and "The Man in the Moon," the latter of which, in a comic report of the proceedings at the "Licensing Committee for Poets," remarked, "Mr. Alfred Bunn was bitterly opposed on personal grounds by a person named Punch; but Mr. Bunn having intimated his wish to have a Word with Punch, the latter skulked out of court, and was not heard of afterwards."

"A Word with Punch"—which the Punch men are said to have bought up as far as possible—had a considerable sale, and an "edition de luxe" was also issued, coloured. The engravings in it were made by Landells, a modest piece of vengeance which must, however, have been gratifying, so far as it went. It may be added that J. R. Adam, "the Cremorne Poet," took up the cudgels unasked in Punch's behalf in a reply entitled "A Word with Bunn;" but this little octavo is as insignificant as its author, and attracted little notice.

Once again, in the early days of "Fun," Punch came very near to being startled with another such infernal machine. Mr. Clement Scott tells me:—"We were offended with Punch for some reason—it was in the Tom Taylor days—and we meditated, planned out, and nearly executed a second edition of 'A Word with Punch.' Tom Hood was furious. Sala was in our conspiracy. In fact, all the 'young lions' of 'Fun' were 'crazy mad.' We thought we could annihilate poor old Punch with one blow. But we never did it—because, I think, although we were plucky, we were impecunious! We were very proud, but, alas! our pockets were empty; so the whole company—Hood, Sala, Jeff Prowse, Harry Leigh, Brunton, Paul Gray, W. S. Gilbert, W. B. Rands, Tom Robertson, Clement Scott and Co., had to knock under."

From Bunn's time may be dated the better taste and greater chivalry that have since distinguished Punch, even in his most rampant moods. He has always had his butts—from the soft-hearted and, at the time, unpardonably hirsute Colonel Sibthorpe, to Sir R. Temple and Mr. McNeill, Mr. Newdegate, Mr. Roebuck, Edwin James, ex-Q.C. (who was disbarred for corruption and set up in New York, joining, as Punch put it, the "bar sinister"), Madame Rachel (the "beautiful for ever" enameller, who had not yet been convicted), Colonel North, Sir Francis Baring, Cox of Finsbury, Wiscount Williams of Lambeth, the Duke of Buccleuch, Lord Malmsbury, and a host of others. But his attacks rarely overstepped due limits; nor did Punch ever find another aspiring Bunn among them. Amongst the inanimate objects which at various times Punch made his mark were Trafalgar Square and its Fountains (or the "Squirts," as they were scornfully called), the National Gallery, Mud-Salad Market, Leicester Square, the Wellington Statue on the Wellington Arch, the Great Exhibition, John Bell's Guards' Memorial in Waterloo Place, and the British Museum Catalogue—all of which, so far as they represented Londoners' grievances, have ere now been reformed.

FOOTNOTES:

[18] Mangez bien, Jenkinsonian French for "fare well."

[19] Jenkinsonian French for "thread-bare subject."

[20] On the occasion of Punch's Jubilee, July, 1891, the "Times" remarked; 'May we be excused for noting the fact that he [Punch] has generally, in regard to public affairs, taken his cue from the "Times"?'

[21] "Fortnightly Review," December, 1886.

[22] His publisher.

[23] Edmund Yates believed that Bunn was Thackeray's model also for Mr. Dolphin, the manager, in "Pendennis."

[24] "Dictionary of National Biography."



CHAPTER X.

PUNCH ON THE WAR-PATH: COUNTER-ATTACK.

Satire and Libel—Mrs. Ramsbotham Assaulted—Attacks of "The Man in the Moon" and "The Puppet-Show"—H. S. Leigh's Banter—Malicious Wit—Mr. Pincott—Punch's Purity gives Offence—His Slips of Fact—Quotation—And Dialect are Resented—His Drunkards not Appreciated by the U.K.A.—"Punch is not as good as it was!"

Above the head of every editor the law of libel hangs like the sword of Damocles. It is at all times difficult for a newspaper of any sort to avoid the infringement of its provisions, vigilant though the editor may be. But in the case of a confessedly "satirical" journal the danger is enormously increased, for the margin between "fair comment" and flat libel shrinks strangely when the raison d'etre of the criticism is pungency, and the object laughter.

That Punch has steered clear of giving serious offence, save on occasions extremely few, must be counted to him for righteousness. It is true that, as a Lord Chancellor once declared, "Punch is a chartered libertine." But for him to have won his "charter" at all proves him at least to have been worthy of it, the tolerance and indulgence of the nation having been in themselves a temptation. It is not so much that he has not hit hard; it is rather that he has hit straight. Indeed, as we have seen, he has struck hastily in many directions; but, save in his years of indiscretion, he has scarcely ever been guilty of anything approaching scurrility. At a time when the "Satirist" was flinging its darts at the peculiarly vulnerable Duke of Brunswick, goading him into the writing of his pamphlets, and into that crushing retaliation whereby the paper was condemned in five thousand pounds damages, Punch was perhaps the most moderate public censor and arbiter elegantiarum amongst all those who used ridicule and irony as instruments of castigation; and indulgence has been the reward that he has reaped.

That Mr. George Jones and Mr. S. C. Hall dared not face the ultimate ordeal of a court of law must be held to justify Punch's persistently caustic denunciations; while the case of Mr. Gent-Davis, then M.P. for Kennington, served chiefly to confirm the fact that "abstractions" and "imaginary personages" find their counterparts, in the opinions of some, in real life. In this case one of the Staff, who lived in the member's constituency, and had taken some interest in local politics, contributed a humorous paper to a series on which he was engaged, and it was published in Punch(November 13, 1886). In this essay a type of suburban lady-politician—a "study from Mr. Punch's Studio"—was satirised under the name of "Mrs. Gore-Jenkins." Forthwith a summons against the Editor at the Mansion House police court was the result, for the Member accepted the description as directed against his wife; but the explanation that the article was intended as a mere political satire on an "imaginary person" was held to be satisfactory, and the incident was finally closed.

On another occasion an unflattering poem on a "popular singer" was illustrated, quite innocently by the artist, who probably never saw the verses, with what appeared to be a portrait of Mr. Isidore de Lara; but no sooner was the matter pointed out than any intention to offend the musician was immediately disclaimed by the paper. At another time one of Punch's artists showed the little band of Socialists (Messrs. Champion, Hyndman, and others), who were then before the law on a political charge, as subjects of Punch's traditional "summary justice." But although Punch was quickly brought to book, his victims did not take the matter very seriously. Mr. John Burns, indeed, confesses as much in a communication upon the subject. "On one occasion," he tells me, "Punch suspended me, pictorially of course, from a gallows tree. This I, of course, regarded as Mr. Punch's humorous desire to see me in an elevated position. On other occasions he has been equally kind but less appropriate in his method of praise or censure."

Punch has altogether had some two-score actions commenced, or threatened, against it, by business firms or aggrieved persons or, more often still, by newspapers on the ground of libel and kindred wrongdoing. But then, consider how many there are in the world, and in England especially, who will not see a joke!

A subject upon which Punch has for some years been persistently twitted is the personality of "Mrs. Ramsbotham"—Thackeray's Mrs. Julia Dorothea Ramsbottom of "The Snob" (No. 7, May, 1829)—a homely sort of Mrs. Malaprop, whose constant misquotations and misapplication of words of somewhat similar sound to those she intends to use give constant amusement to one section of Punch's readers, and irritation quite as constant to the other. She is the lady who suffers from a "torpedo liver;" who complains of being "a mere siphon in her own house;" who discharges her gardener because his answers to her questions are so "amphibious;" and who does not understand how there can be "illegal distress" in a free country where people may be as unhappy as they like. There have, of course, been many originals to this unconscious humorist—and are still. One lady, it has been declared, is not unknown in society, who has held forth to a surprised circle of her acquaintances on the operation of "trigonometry" (tracheotomy)—who, when she imparted a bit of scandal would add, "but that, you know, as the lawyers say, is inter alias"—and who wished that people would always say what they meant, and not talk paregorically (metaphorically).

"Mrs. Ramsbotham" is obviously descended, through Mrs. Malaprop, from Dogberry, and has many a time been "condemned to everlasting redemption," at least by the genus irritabile. One critic cast his protest in the form of a poetic appeal to Punch, and published it in an Oxford journal:—

"Of Mrs. Ram I wish to speak, You dear old London Charivari; Don't ram her down our throats each week. Of sameness do be chary. Vary."

A broader and severer hint was offered by the lively Poet of the London "Globe":—

To Mrs. Ramsbotham.

A few there be who still delight, O Mrs. R., in Punch's page, Who like a joke to wear the blight Of age.

Who, if they find a grain of wheat, Are well content to pass the chaff, And, every week, at least complete One laugh.

But even they who swallow pun Unmurm'ring, now and then declare, Henceforward they must seek their fun Elsewhere.

It is when you have multiplied Your misconceptions, Mrs. Ram., That patience, sorely thus o'er-tried, Says "——."

My task is therefore plain: to hint That you, true woman to the core, Are, when you interfere with print, A bore.

I would not venture to suggest The line of conduct to pursue; I state a fact ... and leave the rest To you.

But, in spite of this bitter cry, the next week's number of Punch contained a quarter of a page of the lady's reminiscences and three misapprehensions. "O," exclaimed the tormented Poet, "that some Abraham would arise to do sacrifice!" Later on Mr. Furniss arose to the call, as the murderous Barons responded to Henry's ejaculation. In "Lika Joko" (November 3, 1894) there was printed an obituary notice of Mrs. Ramsbotham (as nothing in her name had appeared in the previous week's Punch), and a very comic death-bed scene was presented—reminding one of a similar incident in "Joe Miller the Younger," when that paper, like many of the public, grew tired of Mrs. Caudle, and, reporting her "sudden death," published an engraving by Hine, wherein Punch in weepers is seen laying a wreath upon her monument, while Toby and his baton are both decorated with crape. In "Lika Joko's" presentation of her "momentum mori," she babbles of things in general; she is nervous as to the physic handed to her, and remarks that these medicine bottles are as like to one another as the two Dominoes in the "Comedy of Horrors;" she declares, as her mind wanders to the Chino-Japanese war, that "the best remedy for political disorders is antimony, but things may be different in horizontal nations;" and, finally, as she sinks back in death, she fancies she sees a hand a'Becketting to her. But Punch ignored the attack; and the report of the death of his lady-correspondent was duly recognised as a canard.

But "Lika Joko" is by no means the only comic paper that has attacked Punch, smiting him hip and thigh. The violent charges of plagiarism which for many years it was the fashion to bring against him have already been referred to. From the beginning the principal—as it is the easiest—charge that has been made is the alleged heaviness of Punch's fun or his deficiency of wit; less often, it has been a legitimate complaint of blunder or of journalistic wrongdoing. Some of the most violent of these attacks came from the aforesaid "Joe Miller," and from "The Great Gun"—the short-lived journal of distinct ability. In "The Man in the Moon" the pens of Shirley Brooks, James Hannay, and other wits made it distinctly uncomfortable for Punch—but nothing more. Thus to a portrait of Mr. Punch, who is shown in the last degree of misery, is appended the legend, "A CASE OF REAL DISTRESS.—'I haven't made a joke for many weeks!'" (November, 1847). In the next number appeared the brilliant verses, "Our Flight with Punch," from Shirley Brooks's pen, as well as a sketch of a man speechless with amazement, described as the "Portrait of a Gentleman finding a Joke in Punch." Then there is the riddle, "Why is a volume of Punch like a pot of bad tea?—Because it is full of slow leaves;" and in the same number, a biting satire in anticipation of a play written by some of the Punch Staff and produced at Covent Garden in aid of the family of Leigh Hunt, ends with the words, "Every resorter to the stalls and boxes will be expected to purchase a copy of either 'Dombey,' Punch, or 'Jerrold's Weekly Newspaper,' as, next to benevolence, it is in aid of those works that the chief actors appear. N.B.—Strong coffee will be provided to keep the audience awake throughout the performance. Vivant Bradbury et Evans!"

"The Puppet-Show" followed on the same lines, but its attacks were more personal. Under the heading of "A Trio of Punchites" (April, 1848), Thackeray, Douglas Jerrold, and Gilbert a Beckett were torn limb from limb, and later on Mark Lemon and the rest were added to the holocaust; yet, like the Cardinal of Rheims' congregation, nobody seemed a penny the worse. The paper began its fusillade in the first number, and soon came out with a large picture, well drawn and engraved in the manner of the day, of Mr. Punch, much humiliated, receiving a lecture from Mr. Bull:—

SHAMEFUL ATTEMPT AT OVERCHARGE!

MR. BULL (a commercial gentleman)—"Hallo, Mr. Punch, threepence! What do you mean by threepence? Why, the Puppet-Showman supplies a better paper for a penny! You must mind what you are about!"

MR. PUNCH—"Well, sir, you may think it too much, but really the article is so very heavy I cannot sell it for less."

On another occasion the same idea is carried a step further, in the form of an advertisement: "NOTICE.—If the heavy joke, which was sent to the 'Puppet-Show' office last Monday, and for which two-and-ninepence was charged, be not forthwith removed, it will be sold to Punch to pay expenses;" and later on it hints that the Parisians will do well to import a few of Punch's jokes as the best of all possible material for the barricades they were then erecting (1848). A graver charge was contained under the heading, "On Sale or Hire," and it ran: "We perceive, by an advertisement in Punch, that the entire work can be purchased for L4 10s. Judging from its ridiculous puffs of Her Majesty's Theatre, we should say that it could always be bought by a box at the Opera." This amiable paragraph appeared in a lively column which was a weekly feature of the paper, and was headed "Pins and Needles." "Pasquin," a rival "comic" edited by Mr. Sutherland Edwards, was always "bandying epithets" with the Showman, and no sooner was the column introduced than he drew pleasing attention to the fact in the following paragraph: "The 'Puppet-Show' has started 'Pins and Needles.' We don't wonder at it. 'Pins and Needles' are always a sign of a defective circulation."

From time to time, too, pamphlets have been directed against Punch, such as the "Anti-Punch,"[25] published by the men who naturally fall under the lash of a satirist, and resent its application. Of such was the widely circulated "Phrenological Manipulation of the Head of Punch," written by George Combe about 1845, in the form of an open letter. It began, "Sir, you are not an honest man.... Practically your benevolence is merely professional, it is only for the readers of Punch. Why do you act like Toby in the manger?" But there is little wit and less reason in these booklets to recommend, or to justify aught but oblivion.

A more able and important foe than these was Harry S. Leigh, who in 1864 was editor of "The Arrow," with Mortimer Collins as verse-writer and Matt Morgan as cartoonist. Leigh opened his attack with rhymes that were greatly enjoyed at the time. They ran thus:—

RHYMES FOR A BIG BABY.

No. I.

"Sad stuff of Lemon's," Think the bells of St. Clement's; "Not worth five farthings," Sneer the bells of St. Martin's; "Going down daily," Grunt the bells of Old Bailey; "Once it was rich," Hint the bells of Shoreditch: "When could that be?" Ask the bells of Step-ney; "Hanged if I know," Growls the big bell at Bow.

No. II.

Sing a song of threepence, A paper full of trash; Four-and-twenty "funny men" Have made a pretty hash; For when the paper's opened, One soon begins to sing— "Oh! threepence is a dainty price To pay for such a thing."

And he returns to the charge later on in a set of verses in which he pretends to pay tribute to Punch's bygone force—"honest if delicate"—and to Judy's and Toby's straightforward roughness. After making charges of corruption, he proceeds:

"Alas! how times and manners pass! When no one fears a panic— When Scotland tolerates the Mass— And Spain is puritanic; When Yankee 'anacondas' scrunch The South's heroic leader— Then may we find a pleasant Punch, And Punch a happy reader."

Nowadays the commoner form of humorous attack upon Punch is the assumption that it is a serious journal: a cold-blooded analysis of its contents will be made, or the quotation of its best bits under the ungrateful title of "Alleged Humour from Punch;" or a joke will be printed and savagely "quoted" as "From next week's PUNCH." When the three "New Humorists," Messrs. Barry Pain, Jerome, and Zangwill, were driven to despair (so says one of them) by the sneers of the Press, they met in solemn conclave and swore never to make another joke. So Mr. Zangwill set to work at a serious novel. Mr. Jerome took to editing a weekly paper, and Mr. Pain began writing for Punch! Even when Mr. Pincott, for thirty years the "reader" on the paper, committed suicide the day after his wife was buried, a number of papers could not resist the temptation that was offered. "Fancy having to read through all Punch's jokes week after week for years!" exclaimed one. "No wonder we are a hardy race. No wonder the poor man shot himself." Mr. Pincott was a man of great ability, of remarkable erudition, and extreme conscientiousness. Although his bereavement was preying on his mind, he saw the paper out, and did not commit the fatal act until he had sent his usual letter to the Editor, wherewith he would relieve himself of his week's responsibility. "I never met a man with so much information and of so varied a character," writes one of his fellow-workers. "He never passed a quotation without verifying it, and could give you chapter and verse for everything. He knew his Shakespeare by heart, and all the modern poets, and he was never at fault in his classics." He was not, however, allowed to leave the world without a farewell gibe and a laugh, for Wit knows no mercy.

Another main charge laid at Punch's door is that he is too little like Hogarth in the past, too little like French satirists in the present. Thackeray's proud boast that the paper had never said aught that could cause a girl's cheek to mantle with a blush,[26] is acknowledged by the naturalist and realist of the day as the severest condemnation that could be brought against it. "We do not want in Punch a moral paper virginibus puerisque," says M. Arsene Alexandre, in effect, in his important work "L'Art du Rire;" "Punch is un peu trop gentleman. What we want is to be enlightened." But Punch has not chosen to cast the beams of his search-light on to that side of "life" which is turned towards vice; and if he determines that the liaisons and all the attendant world of humour that afford inspiration to the talent of the Grevins, the Forains, the Guillaumes, and the Willettes of France, are outside his field of treatment, who shall blame him? If there is any moral at all to be gleaned from the work of the Punch caricaturists, it is argued, it is the never-ending sermon, though the sermon is a humorous one, of the non-existence of immorality. Perhaps; but Punch does not aspire to reflect the savagery we call civilisation by painting a Hogarthian "Progress," nor to preach virtue by depicting vice. It is no doubt very appalling and amusing to hear a young girl-cynic say, as she points to a hideous monkey in a zoological gardens—"He only wants a little money to be just like a man!" Ca donne a penser; but Punch prefers wholesome jests to irony and repellent cynicism, and is content to leave his impeachment in the hands of his spice-loving detractors, even at the risk of being reminded year by year that "Gentle Dulness ever loves a joke."

Another fruitful source of adverse criticism is an occasional slip on Punch's part in respect to some point of fact. Then at once half a dozen papers are on his track with an eagerness that suggests the idea that they were lying in wait. First come the matters of detail, as when the "Athenaeum" (January, 1877) justifiably complained that the popular conception of the imperial crown of the Empress of India as a four-arched structure, like that of Germany, is due to the mistake of Punch, "whose artists are always falling into this error in their cartoons of the Empress of India." In 1879 Sir John Tenniel was challenged by Mr. Sala on the correctness of the balloon in his frontispiece to the seventy-sixth volume, and in March, 1893, Mr. du Maurier was soundly rated for showing a group of Oxford undergraduates, in the rooms of one of them, wearing cap and gown with perfect docility. Yachtsmen fell foul of Mr. Sambourne for introducing an ensign on a staff in his famous drawing of "The Times Tacking;" for such a staff, stuck on the taffrail with the boom touching it, was "an impossible object," and would have been instantly snapped off, while, moreover, the ensign should have been at the peak. In another admirable drawing Punch once showed a ship on the starboard tack while the helmsman is steering on the port tack, and the ship, by what appears a miracle, is lying over to the wind; and, again, Toby is actually shown in the Almanac for 1895 drawing a cork from a champagne bottle with a cork-screw! Then photographers are as resentful of inaccuracy as bicyclists; and the fact that Mr. Hodgson in the second of his two drawings, "To be well shaken before taken" (August, 1894), representing an "'Arry on 'orseback" first whipping up his horse before being photographed, and then posing before the "seaside tintype man," placed the equestrian between the sun and the lens, was warmly taken up; for would not the result, forsooth, be "the loss of the picture in a flare spot?"