The History of "Punch" Part 37

(_From a Pen-Drawing by Himself. By Permission of Henry S. Keene.

Engraved by J. Swain._)]

And when his legends were altered by the Editor he would fret for a week. Once when Tom Taylor altered the good Scotch of a "field preacher"

(Almanac for 1880) he declared himself "in a great rage," and swore that he would "never forgive" the delinquent. On other occasions, too, he fumed at the desecration of his "librettos;" and when the word "last"

was accidentally omitted from his joke--"Heard my [last] new song?" "Oh, Lor! I hope so!!" he mourned over the loss of the point. Yet he might have been comforted; for had the word been retained, the further charge of plagiarism could have been sustained against him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FROM CHARLES KEENE TO HIS EDITOR.]

But his sorest point against _Punch_--to which, after all, he was sincerely attached--was not the alteration, but the total suppression of some of his work. Two such cases are duly recorded by Mr. Layard--both of them admirable jokes in their way, though perhaps of questionable taste. The first deals with a "Bereaved Husband's" opposition to the "Sympathetic Undertaker's" remorseless insistence that the chief mourner should enter the first carriage with his mother-in-law. "Ah! well," he sighs, with resignation; "_but it will completely spoil my day!_"

The second story--to which an excellent drawing was made--tells of a widow who looks with sorrowful resignation upon a portrait of her husband that hangs above the fireplace, and says to her sympathising friend: "But why should I grieve, dear? I know where he pa.s.ses his evenings now!" The first of these Mark Lemon--ever anxious to avoid giving offence--declined on the ground that it was too hard upon mothers-in-law; and the second because, in Keene's own words, "Our Philistine Editor ... said it would 'jar upon feelings'!" He surely could not have borne completer testimony to the care, the ultra-respect for others' sentiments, which has usually distinguished _Punch_, to the disgust of critics of less refinement and consideration.

On another point, too, he was not at one with _Punch_, and that was "Toby." The form and face of Mr. Punch, as rendered by him, was hardly a cla.s.sic rendering; but this was forgiven him. But Keene's Toby was neither the cur represented by some, nor the Irish terrier affected by others, but a _dachshund_! And he persisted in so drawing him to the end, not because he thought it right, but because "it _might_ have been!" and because the original of the beast was his own much-loved pet "Frau," which he survived not many days. (See next page.)

To this drawing particular interest attaches, for it is the very last that ever came from his hand--a loving tribute to an old friend that had pa.s.sed away. Concerning it, Mr. Henry S. Keene writes to me: "The history of the dog is shortly this. She was a favourite old dog of my brother's, and has figured a good many times in his drawings as the dog of the 'typical' _Punch_, and was of the breed of the 'dachshund.' She was very old and full of infirmities, and my brother consented, with some reluctance, to put the poor thing out of its misery. When it was dead, he had it put on a chair in his room, and made the sketch. This was about three months before he died, and was the last thing he drew.

It required an effort on his part, as he had entirely left off doing any work since the beginning of last year [1890]."

More than any other man on _Punch_, Keene suffered at the hands of the engraver. But it was wholly his own fault. He took no heed whatever of the engraver, and set before him problems to which there was no solution. Thus, he loved to make his drawings on old rough paper, which by its grain gave a wonderfully charming but irreproducible quality to his ragged lines, and which by stains of age would impart effects wholly foreign to the art of the wood-cutter.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "FRAU," ALIAS "TOBY," LYING IN STATE.

(_Keene's Last Drawing._)]

Moreover, he would manufacture his own inks in varying degrees of greyness, and even of different colours, and then set them before the cutter (not the _engraver_, mind) to translate into black-and-white. Yet there are some who blame the craftsman for not reproducing what it was an absolute impossibility to reproduce by printer's ink and graver! But Keene was engrossed in his art; and I have seen a drawing, at Mr. Birket Foster's house at Witley, which was the _seventh_ attempt he made before he was satisfied. This was the drawing ent.i.tled "Ahem!" representing a man kissing a girl, while someone, with the familiar inconsiderateness of humanity, is approaching. The background for this drawing is Mr.

Foster's house.

But although Keene was not a man of ideas, his merits as a creator--as a realiser of types--were supreme. Many of his _dramatis personae_ no doubt became old-fas.h.i.+oned in a sense; but who can deny the truth to life of the Kirk Elder, the slavey, the policeman, the fussy City man, the diner-out, the waiter (did he not invent "Robert"?), the cabman, the hen-pecked husband, the drunkard, the gillie, the Irish peasant, the schoolboy, and the Mrs. Brown of Arthur Sketchley's prosaic muse? The wealth of his limited fancy, and his power of resolving it into well-ordered design, and presenting it with strange economy of means, invested these puppets of his with a vividness which is often startling.

With greater force and subtlety, if with less refinement and grace, than Leech--though not, like him, the genial sketcher of the genial side of things--he has recorded, in the five or six thousand designs that make up the sum of his contribution, the character of "the cla.s.ses" of our day, and that with such intensity of truth that we derive our delight in his work even more from the faithfulness of its representation than from the fun of the joke and the comic rendering of the subject. One writer has been found who sees in his pictures nothing but degradation, and who condemns the one which shows a tippler who has returned late and thrown himself upon the bed beside his wife fully clad and with his umbrella open, as "obscene, and it is matched by many another equally odious!"

But everybody else will endorse Sir Frederic Leighton's enthusiastic testimony that "among the doc.u.ments for the study in future days of middle-cla.s.s and of humble English life, none will be more weighty than the vivid sketches of this great humorist."[56] In praising Keene's "feeling of out-of-doorness," in the "Magazine of Art," Mr. William Black criticised truly when he declared, "Ever and again we come upon a bit of a turnip-field, a hedge-row, even the corner of a London street, the vividness of which is a sudden delight to the eyes." This estimate was well thrown into verse a few months later, when _Punch_ in its bereavement sang the praises of its greatest artist:--

"... Nor human humours only; who so tender Of touch when sunny Nature out-of-door Wooed his deft pencil? Who like him could render Meadow or hedge-row, turnip-field or moor?

Snowy perspective, long suburban winding Of bowery roadway, villa-edged and trim, Iron-railed city street, where gas-lamps blinding Glare through the foggy distance, dense and dim?"

Keene's simple, kind, and somewhat lonely life are too well known to call for recapitulation here--his tenderness and chivalry towards women, his unconventionality, his love of ancient pipes and virulent "dottle"-smoking, his quaint story-telling and singular modesty, his sensitiveness (he never would ask his nephew, Mr. Corbould, to sit as model to him again after a bantering inquiry of how much he was going to pay), his Conservatism, his humour, his gentle hobbies, and, lastly, his stern economy. Indeed, by his thrift, when he died, he was found to have acc.u.mulated over 30,000, chiefly out of his _Punch_ work, in spite of the fact that he would never receive a salary: all this is accessible elsewhere. For some time before he died he ceased to draw for the paper, so broken was he; and it is worth noting that the last sketch that appeared from his hand was "'Arry on the Boulevards," in the Paris Number of _Punch_ (1889), although he was not able to join the rest of the Staff in their trip to the Universal Exhibition.

He died on the 10th of January, 1891, and was buried in Hammersmith Cemetery, in the presence of most of his colleagues, who mourned their friend--

"Frank, loyal, un.o.btrusive, simple-hearted, Loving his book, his pipe, his song, his friend; Peaceful he lived and peacefully departed, A gentle life-course with a gracious end."

Charles Martin--a son of the distinguished painter of Biblical catastrophes, of boundless halls, and illimitable s.p.a.ce, John Martin--made three drawings for _Punch_. "The Bonnet-maker's Dream" was an effort to enlist sympathy for one cla.s.s of women-workers; but his only fair ill.u.s.trated joke was that in which a page-boy, pointing to the old torch-extinguishers in one of the London squares, informs his wondering companion that they are "what the swells in ancient days put their weeds out with." But as an artist he was lazy, preferring to make occasional nice little water-colour drawings than to work hard and continuously at black-and-white. He succeeded in making his way into society as a man-'bout-town, which he preferred to either; so that his connection with _Punch_ began and ended with the year 1853.

An amateur signing "C" made an anonymous appearance in the same year; and Mr. Harry Hall, who was horse-painter first at Tattersall's, and afterwards at Newmarket, where he made Mark Lemon's acquaintance while painting a Derby Winner, contributed a single sketch. It is not remarkable, nor superior to his subsequent work as horse-draughtsman to the "Field"; but it proves, at least, that Mr. Sydney P. Hall's father could draw with ease.

It was in 1853 that the Reverend Edward Bradley[57] first contributed a drawing to _Punch_ under his well-known pseudonym, but earlier than that he found admittance in its pages, with both picture and prose, under the signature, not of "Cuthbert Bede," but simply "E. B." The _nom de plume_ under which he is best known he adapted from the names of the two patron saints of Durham, to which city he was much attached, and within whose boundaries he spent his 'Varsity career.

"Photography being a novelty in 1853," says he in his MS. reminiscences, to the transcript of which I have had access through the courtesy of his son, Mr. Cuthbert Bradley, "Mark Lemon readily accepted my proposal to introduce it into _Punch_," and accordingly, the first four caricature ill.u.s.trations of photography that appeared were in _Punch_, between May and August, 1853. One of these represented "The Portrait of an Eminent Photographer who has just succeeded in focussing a view to his Complete Satisfaction." He was depicted with his head under the hood, while a bull was charging him in the rear--a sketch that was pleasantly referred to by Charles Kingsley in his novel, "Two Years Ago."

[Ill.u.s.tration: REV. EDWARD BRADLEY ("CUTHBERT BEDE").

(_From a Photograph by A. J. Hanc.o.c.k._)]

To the encouragement of Mark Lemon, Cuthbert Bede owed a good deal, in respect to both pen and pencil, and in the warmth of his geniality the sketches for "Verdant Green" were made, and, says the author, more than forty of them were engraved for _Punch's_ pages, to appear a page each week.[58] But circ.u.mstances caused Mark Lemon, with Cuthbert Bede's consent, to transfer them to a special Supplement at that time being prepared by _Punch's_ Editor for the "Ill.u.s.trated London News"--a journal which then enjoyed the co-operation of all the best pens and pencils more closely identified with the Sage of Fleet Street.

Then in 1850 the MS. of "Verdant Green" went the round of the publishers for issue in book-form, and not till after a year's tour was it accepted, and reluctantly enough issued, the publisher vowing that it would not pay its expenses. But within four-and-twenty hours he found out his mistake, and the announcement was made thirty years afterwards, that the sale of the book had amounted to upwards of 170,000 copies--while the author, from first to last, received the splendid sum of 350 for a work which must be reckoned among the great popular successes of the century.

When Douglas Jerrold was at Oxford, in November, 1854, Cuthbert Bede was presented to the sharp-tongued wit, the introducer adding, by way of explanation, "Mr. Verdant Green." "At that time," says Bede, "I was closely shaven, and had a very pale face. Douglas Jerrold looked sharply up at me, with a glitter in his blue eyes, and at once said, 'Mr.

Verdant Green? I should have thought it was Mr. Blanco White!'"--though, of course, there was no more real resemblance between Blanco White's face and that of the Rev. Bradley's, than there was between "Mr. Verdant Green" and "Doblado's Letters from Spain." "Among several things that were very agreeable to me in connection with the publication of 'Verdant Green,'" he continues, "was a circ.u.mstance that was related to me by an eminent Oxford don, who is now a bishop. He had entered the room of Dr.

Pusey, at Christ Church, and saw, as usual, the library table covered with books of divinity and learned tomes; but on the top of these was perched, in pert, c.o.c.k-sparrow fas.h.i.+on, that s.h.i.+lling railway book that had recently been published, with the spectacled face of the Oxford Freshman on the cover. My friend told me that Dr. Pusey held up the book to him and said, that he had not only read it through, but that he kept it on his table so that he might read bits of it in the pauses of his severer study."

One of Cuthbert Bede's proudest memories was the introduction of the double acrostic. He did not claim to have invented it, for he knew of the monkish acrostics; but for six months he had amused his friends with his revival before he showed them to Mark Lemon. The latter, with a quick eye for novelty, asked Bradley to write a paper on them for the "Ill.u.s.trated London News," which was then being edited by Dr. Charles Mackay, and the humorist was only too happy to comply with the request.

The first of these "double acrostic charades"--the first ever printed--appeared in the paper on August 30, 1856, and at intervals for some months afterwards; indeed, there was a regular column devoted to them, edited by Cuthbert Bede, that drew letters from all parts of the world, literally in thousands, which were forwarded to him in packets by rail. He had to explain their construction, and give examples for practice in the art.

The first was "Charles d.i.c.kens--Pickwick Papers"; then followed "London--Thames," "Waterloo--Napoleon," "Scutari Hospital--Miss Nightingale," and then "Lemon--Punch." Here is how the last-named was treated:--

THE LETTERS (5).

I brighten even the brightest scene (L am P) I very nearly an ostrich had been (E m U) I with a hood once pa.s.s'd all my days (M aria N) I am a fop in a play of all plays (O sri C) To its greatness the city of Bath I did raise (N as H)

THE WORDS.

I'm a Mark of judgment, of taste, and wit, O'er a crowd of pages I rule the roast; I mix with choice spirits, while choicer ones sit Around, while I give them full many a toast.

Of my two words, my first is squeez'd into my second, Although at its head it is commonly reckoned.

"When I read it to Mark Lemon," says Bede, in conclusion, "he said that _Punch_ ought to be well flavoured, for that into its composition there went not one, but three lemons--Mark Lemon, Leman Rede, and Laman Blanchard."

Edward and his brother, Thomas Waldron Bradley, were sons of a surgeon of Kidderminster. When the former was quite a child, his delight in sketching was as remarkable as his keenness of observation, and he had a trick on arriving home, after seeing anything that interested him in the streets, of saying, "Give me a slate," and sketching the scene upon it with the utmost facility. It was this facility, joined to his lack of artistic education, which placed upon his work the unmistakable stamp of the amateur. But his sense of humour saved him, winning for him admittance to _Punch's_ pages in 1847, when he was only twenty years of age. He had made his debut the previous year in "Bentley's Miscellany,"

with some love verses signed with his usual pen-name. Five years later he was making suggestions for "The Month," and both he and his brother Walrond (whose pseudonym of "Shelsley Beauchamp" is hardly yet forgotten in his own county) wrote in it.

His early MS. diaries record frequent receipts of small sums from _Punch_ in return for small contributions. His first draft upon the Whitefriars exchequer was on October 23rd, 1847, when one guinea was received. By 1853 the receipts were a little more frequent, but still hardly noteworthy. Here, at any rate, is an example:--

Up to August 4th, received from Mark Lemon for _Punch_--

Photo subjects 4 0 0 Table-turning 0 10 0 Initial letter to Peterloo Brown, I. 3 0 0 Sidney Snub 1 10 0 Savage Lions in London 1 0 0

Sept. 14: 2nd and 3rd Peterloo Brown letters 6 5 0 Article "High Mettle Dragon".

--while his earnings for the following year amount to 22 6s. for drawings and MS. After 1856 he contributed nothing more to _Punch's_ pages, though a stray forgotten cut appears to have cropped up in the second volume for 1874.

George Cruikshank was a valuable friend to Cuthbert Bede, just as he was to Watts Phillips, and gave him a good deal of advice as to drawing on wood for _Punch_, as well as practical lessons in draughtsmans.h.i.+p, by working before him on his wonderful etching of the "Tail of a Comet;"

still, he was unable to impart to his pupil's work either trained ease or style. Cruikshank was on terms of intimacy with Mark Lemon, but he never drew for _Punch_, save indirectly for its advertis.e.m.e.nt page in 1844--an announcement for his "Table-Book," in which appear the portraits of Gilbert Abbott a Beckett (his literary Editor), Thackeray, and himself. Yet the "Quarterly Review," in the course of an essay upon that journal, declared that "_Punch_ owes at least half its popularity to the pencil of George Cruikshank"! The fact is, that Cruikshank, though on intimate terms with many of the Staff, would never allow himself to be persuaded to draw for its pages. "We shall have you yet,"

said Mark Lemon one day. "Never," said Cruikshank, in his most melodramatic tone and striking his favourite att.i.tude. He had then become the staunchest of total abstainers, and he held its very name in abhorrence. Moreover, he professed to look upon their Dinners as orgies; but it is far more likely that the predominance in its pages and in its councils of his mighty rival, John Leech, had more to do with his total abstinence--from _Punch_, I mean--than any other consideration. "Between Cruikshank and Leech," says Mr. Frith, "there existed little sympathy and less intimacy. The extravagant caricature that pervades so much of Cruikshank's work, and from which Leech was entirely free, blinded him a little to the great merit of Cruikshank's serious work. I was very intimate with 'Immortal George,' as he was familiarly called, and I was much surprised by the coolness with which he received my enthusiastic praise of Leech. 'Yes, yes,' said George, 'very clever. The new school, you see. Public always taken with novelty.'" Nevertheless, it must not be forgotten that the only lessons in etching Leech ever had he received from George Cruikshank. Moreover, George had a grievance, as will be seen by the following letter addressed to Mr. G. H. Haydon, one of _Punch's_ subsequent contributors, to whom reference will be made later on:--

"263, Hampstead Road, N.W., January 7, 1867.

"MY DEAR SIR,