John Leech, His Life and Work Volume I Part 17

"The man of money took the paper--the devil, with his ear upturned, crept closer to the door--and thrust it amidst the dying coals. A moment, and the garret is rent as with a lightning flash.

"Yelling, and all on fire, the man of money falls prostrate with h.e.l.l in his face. Then his lips move, but not a sound is heard. And the fire communicated by the sympathy of the living note--the flesh of his flesh--like a snake of flame glides up his limbs, devouring them. And so he is consumed: a minute, and the man of money is a thin black paper ash. Now the night wind stirs it, and now a sudden breeze carries the cinereous corpse away, fluttering it to dust impalpable."

CHAPTER XI.

ALBERT SMITH AND LEECH.

In July, 1851, a new work appeared, under the name and t.i.tle of the _Month_: "a View of Pa.s.sing Subjects and Manners, Home and Foreign, Social and General, by Albert Smith and John Leech." The publication was a serial one--monthly, in fact; and as it contained many amusing skits by Albert Smith, and much of Leech's best work, notice of it is inc.u.mbent upon a writer of Leech's life.

Eighteen fifty-one, as everybody knows, was the year of the Great Crystal Palace Exhibition in Hyde Park. I well remember visiting the huge gla.s.s building in February, 1851, in company with d.i.c.kens and Sir Joseph Paxton. d.i.c.kens was wrapped in furs, and we s.h.i.+vered through the place, which was only partially roofed; and seemed altogether so far from completion as to cause great doubts in our minds of the possibility of its being ready for its contents by the first of May.

I put the question to Paxton, and his reply was:

"I _think_ it will; but, mind, I don't _say_ it will."

Paxton's thought was justified; for the Exhibition was opened by the Queen in great state at the date fixed, though many of its intended exhibits were still to come.

I confess I shared the foolish dread that the opening would be so crowded as to be very uncomfortable, if not dangerous, to sight-seers; and I therefore declined to accompany my brother, who was braver than I; and sorry enough I was when I found that the panic had been so universal as to enable the few courageous visitors to have the show, as my brother expressed it, "all to themselves."

The first number of the _Month_ appeared in July, 1851, and the last was issued towards the close of that year. It seems to have been the intention of the authors to have taken typical young ladies, and, under the heading of "Belles of the Month," have used them as prefixes to each monthly part. Unfortunately, I think this idea was only partially carried out. True, we have Belles of the Park, and Belles of the Ball, and one or two Belles of the Month, so charmingly done by Leech as to make it a matter of surprise that such great attractions were not more frequently admitted to the paper.

The literary portion which begins the _Month_ is very Albert Smithian indeed. In proof, I quote some of his description of "The Hyde Park Belle":

"The charming young lady introduced to me," says Mr. Smith, "was of middling stature, with oval face, chestnut hair, dark eyes, and very white and regular teeth. She had on a white transparent bonnet, and light muslin dress all _en suite_. In answer to my questions, she replied as follows:

"'I shall be nineteen in August, and have been out two years and a half. Have I ever been engaged? Only once, and that was broken off because I went on a drag to Richmond with the officers of the --th. Lady Banner was inside--it was all perfectly proper. She is a very nice woman--always ready to chaperone anybody anywhere if her share is paid.

Only sometimes she bores one dreadfully. Edmund went to India. I don't know where he is now; I have not heard. I dare say he is somewhere. He bored me dreadfully at last. I work very hard--oh, very hard indeed!--that is, in the season. My maid always sits up to make tea for me when I come home. Her hours are very regular, considering. She goes to bed every morning about four; but, then, she doesn't have to dance half the night. Yes; I like the Crystal Palace. Oh! I get so tired there--walking, and walking, and walking, you can't think how far! I know the Crystal Palace fountain and Dent's clock, and the stuffed animals and the envelope-machine. I don't think I have seen anything else; I have never been out of the nave and the transept--n.o.body goes anywhere else. I did not know that there was anything to see upstairs, except large carpets. I am sure they would bore me dreadfully. We are engaged every night.... We had scarcely time to dress for the Grapnels'

dinner-party; and then we went to Mrs. Crutchley's, to meet the Lapland Amba.s.sador. We could not get into the room, and stood for two hours on the landing. Old Mr. Tawley was there, and would keep talking to me; he always bores me dreadfully. He is going to take mamma and me to see some pictures somewhere. I hate seeing pictures; they bore me dreadfully.

After Lady Crutchley's, we went to Mrs. Croley's amateur concert, which was nearly over. She had only cla.s.sical music. I don't know what cla.s.sical music is; I only know it bores me dreadfully. Ashton Howard says the same people who like cla.s.sical music buy old china and wear false hair. I wish people would give up cla.s.sical music. It never amuses anybody--that is, anybody worth amusing. I don't know whether "The Huguenots" is cla.s.sical music or not; I only know that when they give it at the Royal Italian Opera n.o.body seems bored _then_. I don't know that I am exactly.'"

Whether in these boxes full of beauties one amongst them is intended by Leech to personate Mr. Smith's "dreadfully bored" young lady, I cannot say. Certainly there is not one who seems in the condition described as not being "exactly bored."

The Belle of Hyde Park continues:

"'I go into the Park every day with mamma, but it bores me dreadfully.

I see nothing but the same people, and I know all the trees and rails by heart. I ride sometimes; I like it better than the carriage. But papa don't ride very often; and if he don't I can't, except with the Pevenseys and their brothers. John Pevensey is very stupid, and talks to me about farming. I get very tired; but I am obliged to go, because the Pevenseys know so many receivable people. But they bore me dreadfully; in fact, I don't know who or what does not. I long for the season to be over; and when I go into the country, I long for it to begin again. I wish I could do as I pleased, like Marshall--that's my maid--when she has a holiday. She is going to marry the man at the hairdresser's; and last Sunday they went down all by themselves to Gravesend. I see mamma's face if Ashton Howard was to propose to take me to Gravesend next Sunday, and without Lady Banner! I wish sometimes I was Marshall. Now and then I would give a good deal for a good cry. I can't tell you why--I don't know; only that everything is a trouble, and bores me dreadfully.'"

In reply to further inquiries from Mr. Smith, the young lady tells him what she pays for her satin shoes, which are worn out after two parties.

Does she have her gloves cleaned?

"'Certainly; but not for evening parties--the men's coats blacken them in an instant. They do very well for the opera and evening concerts--nothing else. The Pevenseys wear cleaned gloves. Everybody knows it; and Ashton Howard always asks out loud if a camphine-lamp has gone out when they come into the room. You can get a nice bouquet for five or six s.h.i.+llings. Old Mr. Rigby, in the Regent's Park, told me I might cut any flowers from his conservatory. But I don't care for that--I would sooner buy them; he bores me dreadfully.'"

It cannot be denied that ugliness has reached its climax in men's dress of the present day. It would be extremely difficult to find a garment more hideous than a dress-coat; and it is impossible for any head-covering to exceed the stove-pipe hat in ugliness, to say nothing of inconvenience and detestable uncomfortableness.

These sentiments were fully shared by one of the _Month's_ correspondents, a gentleman named Simmons, who "emerged from his residence at Islington" on the day of the opening of the Great Exhibition with the intention of showing to the mult.i.tudes who were expected to attend that ceremony the kind of hat that should depose, at once and for ever, the detestable chimney-pot.

"It was, in fact," says the bold reformer, "merely a wide-brimmed, flat-crowned wideawake, to which I thought a feather--in these days of foreign immigration--would not be an out-of-the-way addition. I had contemplated my own features beneath it in as much variety of light and shadow as I could obtain from my shaving-gla.s.s for half an hour preceding my departure, and had arrived at such a satisfactory conclusion as to its effect, that I regarded myself as a sort of modern William Tell, about to release my country, by a bold example, from an oppressive and degrading subjection to a detested hat."

A love of change is said to be inherent in human nature; but attacks upon custom--indeed, innovations of all kinds--are usually futile unless very special conditions attend the attempts. If the famous hat invented by a Royal Prince was received with overwhelming ridicule, as my older readers will remember that it was; a less melancholy fate could scarcely be expected for the wideawake and feather of the little gentleman from Islington.

"My appearance in the street certainly created a sensation," says Mr.

Simmons; "but it was one exceedingly mortifying to my feelings. Omnibus drivers winked at each other, and pointed at me with their whips.

Occasionally a stray boy would indulge in personal observations, or a grown-up ragam.u.f.fin would sputter out an oath, and burst into a horse laugh, which to my mind appeared totally unwarranted by the circ.u.mstances of the case."

The managers of the _Month_ very wisely placed this etching in the front of their first number. In all respects Leech is here seen at his best.

The figure of the poor little victim of reform, the street-boys and their surroundings, are all unsurpa.s.sable; while to an artist the composition of the figures and the arrangement of light and shadow are excellent.

After escaping from the attentions of Leech's inimitable Arabs, Mr.

Simmons reaches Hyde Park to find fresh troubles. The feathered wideawake creates a sensation, but not of the kind that its wearer expected; he was asked where "he bought it," and "if he would sell it"; "if he made it himself"; and if he had "another at home like it to spare for a friend," and so on. The "air of unconsciousness" that the reformer a.s.sumed irritated his a.s.sailants, whose "offensive remarks and insolent mirth" were soon exchanged for attentions more uncomfortable.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Mr. Simmons's attempt at Reform._]

Says Mr. Simmons: "A bright flash of practical jocularity suddenly illumined the mind of an original genius, who at once carried it into effect by casting at my decided article of costume a large tuft of gra.s.s, which struck me on the back of my neck, broke into dry dirt, and raised a perfect roar of delight at my expense." Instead of patiently enduring this a.s.sault, as a prudent man would have done when surrounded by enemies, the valiant Simmons turned upon his a.s.sailant, "and struck the wit a severe blow in the face." That was a death-blow to the picturesque hat, which "afforded some slight sport as a football for a few moments, and then vanished and was seen no more."

It will be seen by the quotations that the literary portion of the _Month_ is of the slight character--though sometimes clever and amusing--to which so much of Leech's work has been allied. A sketch, ent.i.tled "Home from the Party," gives occasion for the accompanying drawing by Leech of a young gentleman who has "danced all night till the broad daylight," "and gone home" by himself "in the morning." On his journey a brougham overtakes him, containing "the handsome dark girl with the clematis and fuchsia wreath, looking pale and pretty, with a pocket-handkerchief over her head cornerwise, held together at the chin.

We think about that brougham-girl till she is out of sight, and wonder if we appeared to the best advantage as she pa.s.sed. We don't much think we did. One of the springs of our hat was out of order, and we were carrying our gloves in our hand, crumpled up to the size of a walnut, as though we were going to conjure with them; and we were blinking as we met the sun at the corner, and holding a seedy bouquet in our hand, which evidently she had not given us."

The remarks, conversations, comments, and so forth, that generally accompany Leech's drawings were invariably his own composition, and in their humorous aptness are almost as admirable as the drawings they explain. In ill.u.s.tration I note a design under the heading of "Moral Courage."

"SCENE--_A Station of the s...o...b..ack Brigade_.

"FIRST BOY: 'Here's another swell, Bill, a-coming to be blacked.'

"SECOND BOY: 'Ooray!'

"THIRD BOY: 'Ain't his boots thin neither?'

"FOURTH BOY: 'Wouldn't they pinch my toes if I had 'em? Oh my!'

"FIFTH BOY: 'They don't pinch his'n.'

"SIXTH BOY: 'Yes, they do.'

"FIRST BOY: 'Go easy, Blacky; mind his corns.' (_Swell winces_.) 'That was a nasty one.'

"(_The comments are extended from the swell's boots to his costume and appearance generally. And all this for a penny_)."

Mr. Thackeray's "Four Georges" are, no doubt, familiar to my readers, some of whom may also remember his delivery of them in the form of lectures to large audiences. In that great writer's early time he wrote many essays, art-criticisms, etc., under the name of "Michael Angelo t.i.tmarsh," and it is under that t.i.tle that he is represented in the drawing by his friend Leech, as he appeared at Willis's Rooms "in his celebrated character of Mr. Thackeray."

In the _Month_, Mr. Albert Smith makes Leech's drawing a peg upon which he hangs some justly complimentary remarks on the Thackeray lectures which took the town by storm forty years ago.

Whether the "Belle of Hyde Park" or the "Belle of the Ball" is to be considered the belle of the _Month's_ July issue is left in doubt; but there is no doubt whatever about the claim of the pretty creature (who, accompanied by an extremely plain and dissolute-looking cavalier in the costume of Charles II.'s time, enters an imaginary ball-room) to a loveliness that it would be difficult to surpa.s.s, as the drawing amply proves.

This cut is accompanied by some verses which appear to me quite unreadable; I therefore spare my readers from the infliction of any of them.