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Vol. 1, by +William Powell Frith + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: John Leech, His Life and Work. Vol. 1 + +Author: William Powell Frith + +Release Date: July 8, 2011 [EBook #36663] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN LEECH *** + + + + +Produced by Marius Masi, Chris Curnow and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="center pt2"><img style="width:358px; height:600px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p class="pt2"> </p> + +<p class="center fo">JOHN LEECH</p> + +<p class="center fo f90">His Life and Work</p> + +<div class="center ptb2"><img style="width:470px; height:600px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img005.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p class="center ptb1 sc" style="color: #c11B17; font-size: 250%;">JOHN LEECH</p> + +<p class="pt1 center fo">His Life and Work</p> + +<p class="pt2 center f80">BY</p> +<p class="center f120">WILLIAM POWELL FRITH, R.A.</p> + +<div class="center ptb2"><img style="width:150px; height:174px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img006.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p class="center f90"><i>WITH PORTRAIT AND NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS</i></p> + +<p class="center pt2 f90">IN TWO VOLUMES<br /> +VOL. I.</p> + +<p class="center pt2"><span class="f90">LONDON</span><br /> +<span style="letter-spacing: 0.3em;">RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON</span><br /> +<span class="f80 fo">Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen</span><br /> +<span class="f80">1891 +[<i>All rights reserved</i>]</span></p> + +<p class="pt2 center f90 fo">I Dedicate this Book</p> +<p class="center f80">TO</p> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing: 0.3em;">CHARLES F. ADAMS,</p> +<p class="center f80">LEECH’S EARLIEST, WARMEST, AND MOST CONSTANT FRIEND;</p> +<p class="center f80">WITH MY GRATEFUL THANKS</p> +<p class="center f80">FOR THE INTEREST HE HAS TAKEN IN MY WORK,</p> +<p class="center f80">AND FOR THE VALUABLE ASSISTANCE AFFORDED</p> +<p class="center f80">IN THE EXECUTION OF IT.</p> + +<hr class="art" /> + +<p class="chap2 center">PREFACE</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc chap1">I am</span> very conscious of the many sins of commission +and omission of which I have been guilty in my +attempt to write the “Life and Work of John +Leech”; but, that ingratitude may not figure +amongst my shortcomings, I take advantage of the +usual preface to acknowledge my obligations to +friends and strangers from whom I have received +assistance, and to express my warmest thanks for +their kindness.</p> + +<p>The time that has elapsed since Leech’s death +has terribly thinned the ranks of his friends and contemporaries; +but the leveller has spared and dealt +tenderly with one of his earliest and most constant +friends, Mr. Charles F. Adams, whose store of +Leech’s letters, together with many pleasing reminiscences, +have been placed unreservedly at my disposal. +From Mr. Kitton’s memoir of Leech I have +derived, through the author’s kindness, much advantage; +and to Mr. Thornber, a well-known collector +of Leech’s works, I owe the opportunity of +selecting some of the best illustrations that grace +the book.</p> + +<p>I also desire to express my gratitude to the proprietors +of <i>Punch</i>, who, though unable to comply +with my unreasonable demand to the full extent of +it, have given me most important help in my +endeavours to do honour to the genius who was +such an honour to <i>Punch</i>. I owe to those gentlemen +no less than eight of the full-page illustrations, +to say nothing of numbers of small cuts.</p> + +<p>I take this opportunity of thanking Mr. Grego, +my neighbour Mr. McKenzie, Mr. Willert Beale, and +Mr. Maitland for their help in various ways; not +forgetting the Eton boy, whose anonymity I preserve +according to his desire.</p> + +<p>To Sir John Millais, Mr. Ashby Sterry, Mr. +Horsley, Mr. Holman Hunt, and Mr. Cholmondeley +Pennel I also offer my warmest acknowledgment for +the papers they have so kindly contributed.</p> + +<p>In conclusion, I permit myself a few words in explanation +of that which I know will be laid to my +charge, namely, that my book tells too little of Leech +and too much of his work, and that it is chronologically +deficient. In excuse I plead that the life of +Leech as I knew it from its early days was, like that +of most artists, entirely devoid of such incidents as +would interest the public; and that from the difficulty +of acquiring certain information, and the varying +times at which it was supplied, chronological +accuracy was impossible.</p> + +<hr class="art" /> + +<p class="chap2 center">CONTENTS OF VOL. I.</p> + +<table class="pic" width="90%" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td class="tcr f80">CHAPTER</td> <td> </td> <td class="tcr f80">PAGE</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcr"> </td> <td class="tcla scs">PROLOGUE</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page1">1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcr">I.</td> <td class="tcla scs">EARLY DAYS</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page3">3</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcr">II.</td> <td class="tcla scs">EARLY WORK</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page20">20</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcr">III.</td> <td class="tcla scs">MR. PERCIVAL LEIGH AND LEECH</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page75">75</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcr">IV.</td> <td class="tcla scs">MEETING OF MULREADY AND LEECH</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page95">95</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcr">V.</td> <td class="tcla scs">“THE PHYSIOLOGY OF EVENING PARTIES,” BY ALBERT SMITH</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page104">104</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcr">VI.</td> <td class="tcla scs">JOHN LEECH AND THE ETON BOY</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page130">130</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcr">VII.</td> <td class="tcla scs">MR. SPONGE’S SPORTING TOUR</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page137">137</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcr">VIII.</td> <td class="tcla scs">“THE MARCHIONESS OF BRINVILLIERS,” BY ALBERT SMITH</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page151">151</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcr">IX.</td> <td class="tcla scs">“THE MARCHIONESS OF BRINVILLIERS”—CONTINUED</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page163">163</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcr">X.</td> <td class="tcla scs">“A MAN MADE OF MONEY,” BY DOUGLAS JERROLD</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page178">178</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcr">XI.</td> <td class="tcla scs">ALBERT SMITH AND LEECH</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page206">206</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcr">XII.</td> <td class="tcla scs">MR. ADAMS AND LEECH</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page233">233</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcr">XIII.</td> <td class="tcla scs">“COMIC GRAMMAR” AND “COMIC HISTORY”</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page255">255</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="art" /> + +<p class="chap2 center">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</p> + +<table class="pic" width="90%" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td> </td> <td class="tcr f80">PAGE</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Portrait of John Leech</td> <td class="tcr" style="width: 6em;"><span class="f80"><i>Frontispiece</i></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Hercules returning from a Fancy Ball</td> <td class="tcr"><span class="f80"><i>To face p.</i></span> <a href="#page3">3</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Physician and General Practitioner</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page27">27</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">“Where ’ave we bin? Why, to see the Cove ’ung, to +be sure!”</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page29">29</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">An Eye to Business</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page31">31</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">But Augustus’s Heart was too full to speak</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page33">33</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">“Sir! Please, Mr.! Sir! you’ve forgot the Door-key!”</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page38">38</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla"><span class="sc">Eton Boy</span> (<i>loq.</i>): “Come, governor! just one toast—‘The +Ladies’!”</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page39">39</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Return from the Derby</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page43">43</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Derby Epidemic</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page43">44</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Something like a Holiday</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page46">46</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Alarming Symptoms on eating Boiled Beef and Gooseberry-pie</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page47">47</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">“So you have taken all your Stuff, and don’t feel +any better, eh?”</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page50">50</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Awful Apparition to a Gentleman whilst Shaving in + the Edgware Road, September 29, 1846.</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page51">51</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">“A Holder and a Thinner Wine”</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page53">53</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">“Hollo! Hi! here, Somebody! I’ve turned on the + Hot Water, and I can’t turn it off again!”</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page54">54</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Symptoms of a Masquerade</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page55">55</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Rising Generation</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page57">57</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Irrepressible Juvenile</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page58">58</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Rising Generation</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page59">59</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Servant-gal-ism</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page63">63</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Rising Generation</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page65">65</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla"><span class="sc">Special Constable</span>: “Now mind, you know—if I kill you, + it’s nothing; but if you kill me, by Jove! it’s murder!”</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page67">67</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Recreations in Natural History</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page69">69</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Cabman is supposed to have taken a Wrong Turning, +that’s all</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page70">70</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Mr. Briggs does a little Shooting</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page73">73</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">”Fiddle-Faddle” Fashions</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page90">90</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">”Fiddle-Faddle” Fashions</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page91">91</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Mulready Envelope</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page96">96</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Fores’s Comic Envelope</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page97">97</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Mamma and the Girls</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page106">106</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Two Rude Young Men</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page107">107</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Head of the House</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page108">108</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">An Olive-Branch</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page109">109</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Two “Gangling” Young Men</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page110">110</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Preparing for the Ball</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page111">111</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Assistant-Waiter</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page112">112</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Band</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page112">112</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Wallflowers</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page114">114</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Mr. Ledbury</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page115">115</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Mr. Ledbury and Miss Hamilton</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page116">116</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Waltz</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page118">118</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">In the Conservatory</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page119">119</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Belle of the Evening</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page120">120</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Mr. Ledbury’s Hat</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page121">121</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Mr. Percival Jenks</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page123">123</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla"><span class="sc">Clown</span>: “Oh, see what I’ve found!”</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page127">127</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Miss Cinthia Sings</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page128">128</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Dreadful for Young Oxford</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page131">131</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Miss Lucy and Mr. Sponge</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page149">149</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Le Premier Pas</td> <td class="tcr"><i><span class="f80">To face p.</span></i> <a href="#page160">160</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Death of St. Croix</td> <td class="tcr"><span class="f80">”</span>   <a href="#page172">172</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">A Family Picture</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page189">189</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">And there stood Jericho</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page203">203</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Mr. Simmons’s Attempt at Reform</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page215">215</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Belle of the Month—August—taking a “Constitutional” + in Kensington Gardens. Time, 8 a.m.</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page221">221</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Balcony Nuisance</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page223">223</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Belle of the Month—November—“in Distress +off a Lee-shore—Brighton Pier”</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page229">229</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">“Now, Jack, my Boy! There’s no Time to lose! we’ve +Ten Miles to go to Cover”</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page245">245</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Effects of a Fall</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page253">253</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Billy Taylor</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page256">256</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">“Where got’s Thou that Goose? Look!”</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page257">257</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Queen Eleanor and Fair Rosamond</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page261">261</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">King Edward introducing his Son as Prince of + Wales to his Newly-acquired Subjects</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page262">262</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Unseemly Conduct of Henry, Prince of Wales</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page263">263</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">The Duke of Gloucester goes into Mourning for + his Little Nephews</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page264">264</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tcla sc">Mary’s Elopement</td> <td class="tcr"><a href="#page266">266</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page1" id="page1"></a>1</span></p> + +<p class="center pt1 sc" style="color: #c11B17; font-size: 170%;">JOHN LEECH:</p> + +<p class="center sc" style="color: #c11B17; font-size: 120%;"><i>HIS LIFE AND WORK</i></p> + +<div class="center art1"><img style="width:150px; height:35px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img001.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p class="chap2 center">PROLOGUE.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc chap1"><i>“‘Leech’</i></span> <i>(spelt ‘leich’) is an old Saxon word for +‘surgeon,’” writes a friend to me. “Hence, as you +know, the employment of the word ‘leech’ as a term +applied in former times to doctors.”</i></p> + +<p><i>Though Leech is not a common name, I have met +with several bearers of it under every variety of spelling +that the word was capable of—Leech, Lietch, +Leich, Leeche, Leitch, etc. Only two of the owners +of these names became known to fame—John, of +immortal memory, and, longo intervallo, William +Leitch, a Scottish artist, and landscape-painter of +considerable merit, whose pictures, generally of a +classic character, found favour amongst a certain +class of buyers. A large subject of much beauty was +engraved, and, I think, formed the prize-engraving +for the year for the Art Union of London. I have +no doubt William Leitch was frequently asked if he +were related to John. The sound of the names was +similar, and few inquirers knew of the difference in</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page2" id="page2"></a>2</span> +<i>the spelling. Whether William was asked the question +or not I cannot speak to with certainty; but that +John was I am sure, because he told me so himself, +and, as well as I can recall them, in the following +words:</i></p> + +<p><i>”I was asked the other day if I were related to a +man of the same name—a Scotchman—a landscape-painter. +He spells his name L-e-i-t-c-h, you know. +I said, ‘No; the Scotch gentleman’s name is spelt in +the Scotch way, with the ’itch in it.’ Not bad, eh? +I hope nobody will tell him!”</i></p> + +<p><i>I met William Leitch several times (he died long +ago), and was always charmed by his refined and +gentle manner; but we never became intimate, so I +cannot say I had the following anecdote from himself; +but it was told me by an intimate friend of the artist, +who assured me that he had it from Leitch direct.</i></p> + +<p><i>Leitch had a considerable practice as a drawing-master, +chiefly amongst the higher classes. He taught +the very highest, for he gave lessons to the Queen herself. +I have never had the honour of seeing any of +her Majesty’s drawings, but I have had the advantage +of her criticism, and I can well believe in the reports +of the excellence of her work.</i></p> + +<p><i>The story goes that one day, in the course of a +lesson, the Queen let her pencil fall to the ground. +Both master and pupil stooped to pick it up; and, to +the horror of Leitch, there was a collision—the master’s +head struck that of his royal pupil! and before he +could stammer an apology, the Queen said, smiling:</i></p> + +<p><i>”Well, Mr. Leitch, if we bring our heads together +in this way, I ought to improve rapidly.”</i></p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:566px; height:700px" src="images/img021.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption"><i>”Hercules” returning from a Fancy Bail.</i><br /> +<span class="f80"><i>R. E. & S. 1888.</i></span></td></tr></table> + +<div class="center art1"><img style="width:150px; height:35px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img001.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" id="page3"></a>3</span></p> + +<p class="chap2 center">CHAPTER I.</p> + +<p class="center scs">EARLY DAYS.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc chap1">On</span> the 29th of August, 1817, a boy was born in +London gifted with a genius which, in the short +time allowed for its development, delighted and +astonished the world. The child’s name was Leech, +and he was christened John. The Leech family +was of Irish extraction. From information received, +it appears that the father of Leech, also called John, +was possessed of an uncle who had made a large +fortune as the owner of the London Coffee-House, +Ludgate Hill. With this fortune he retired, leaving +his nephew to reign in his stead at the Coffee-House, +not without a reasonable hope and expectation that +the nephew would follow in the uncle’s prosperous +footsteps. But times had changed. Clubs were +being formed, and the customers of the Ludgate Hill +place of entertainment preferred to be enrolled as +members of the novel institutions rather than subject +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page4" id="page4"></a>4</span> +themselves to the somewhat mixed company at +the Coffee-House. Leech’s establishment, however, +struggled on into my early time, for I can well +remember being advised, if I wished for a good and +wonderfully cheap dinner, consisting—as per advertisement—of +quite startling varieties of dishes, my +desire might be gratified by payment of eighteen-pence +to the authorities at the London Coffee-House, +Ludgate Hill.</p> + +<p>I do not know the precise time at which the +doors of the Coffee-House were finally closed and the +father Leech, with his large family, was thrown +upon the world; but it must have been some years +after the subject of this memoir had been enrolled +amongst the Charterhouse scholars, an event that +took place when he was seven years old. Previous +to this by about four years, some feeble buds of the +genius that blossomed so abundantly afterwards are +said to have shown themselves, and to have been +observed by Flaxman as the child sat with pencil +and paper on his mother’s knee. The great sculptor +is reported to have said:</p> + +<p>“This drawing is wonderful. Do not let him be +cramped by drawing-lessons; let his genius follow +its own bent. He will astonish the world.”</p> + +<p>I venture to think that for this story a grain of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" id="page5"></a>5</span> +salt would be by no means sufficient. No drawing +done by a child of three years old, however gifted, +could be “wonderful” in the estimation of Flaxman; +and that such an artist as he was should have said +anything so foolish as what is tantamount to advising +a parent against “learning to draw” I take the +liberty of disbelieving. Flaxman was a friend of +the Leeches, and in after years, while John Leech +was still a youth, the sculptor again examined some +of his sketches, and, after looking well at them, he +very likely said, as is reported:</p> + +<p>“That boy must be an artist; he will be nothing +else.”</p> + +<p>A child of seven seems almost cruelly young to +be subjected to the hardships of a public school.</p> + +<p>“I thought,” wrote John’s father, “that I was not +wrong in sending him thus early, as Dr. Russell, +the head-master, had a son of the same age in +the school, and John was in the same form with +him.”</p> + +<p>No doubt the elder Leech felt much the parting +from his little son, but to Mrs. Leech the boy’s +leaving home was a severe blow; the mother’s +heart would no doubt realize and exaggerate the +perils to mind and body arising from contact with +something like six hundred fellow-pupils, scarcely +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" id="page6"></a>6</span> +one so young, and none so loving and lovable as her +little boy. John was boarded at a house close by +the Charterhouse, and only allowed to go home +at rare intervals. The fond mother, however, could +not live without seeing him, and to enable her to +gratify her longing, a room was hired in a house +overlooking the boy’s playground, from which, carefully +hidden, she could see her little son as he +walked and talked with the form-fellow, “the particular +friend” to whom a sympathetic nature had +attached him; or watch him as he joined heart and +soul in some game—not too rough—for a fall from +his pony, by which his arm had been broken and was +still far from strong, made such rough sports as are +common to schoolboys too dangerous to be indulged +in.</p> + +<p>The Charterhouse rejoiced in a drawing-master +named Burgess. Upon what principles that master +proceeded to train the youth of Charterhouse I am +unable to speak; they were most likely those in +vogue at the time of young Leech’s sojourn. If +they were of that description, it was fortunate that +Leech paid—as is said—little or no attention to +them, finding a difficulty, no doubt, in applying +them to the sketches that constantly fell from him +on to the pages of his school-books.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" id="page7"></a>7</span></p> + +<p>It may be urged that when Flaxman warned the +boy’s mother against teaching as being sure to cramp +her son’s genius, he alluded to the Burgess method. +That may have been so. But a man like Flaxman, +who had possessed himself by severest study as a +young man of the means by which his powers were +developed, would, I think, have been sure to warn +Mrs. Leech of the difference between the teaching +that would be mischievous, and that which is +proved to be indispensable by the universal practice +of the greatest painters. I am aware I shall be +confronted with the case of John Leech, who was, so +to speak, entirely self-taught; but Leech was not a +painter, and certainly never could have become a +good one without training; besides, he was altogether +exceptional—unique, in fact. In my opinion, +we are as likely to see another Shakespeare or +Dickens as another Leech.</p> + +<p>This is a digression, for which I apologize. I +cannot find that my hero—I may call him such, for +he was ever a hero to me—paid much attention to +classical knowledge. Latin verses were impossible +to him, but they had to be done; so, as he said, he +“got somebody to do them for him.” In spite of +his weak arm, he fenced with Angelo, the school +fencing-master; but, beyond the advantage of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" id="page8"></a>8</span> +exercise, the accomplishment was of no use to +him.</p> + +<p>Here I cannot resist an anecdote of which the +fencing reminds me.</p> + +<p>Some years before Leech’s death the editor of a +newspaper, who was remarkable for the severity of +his criticisms and for his extreme personal ugliness, +had made some caustic remarks on Leech’s work in +general, and on some special drawings in particular.</p> + +<p>“If that chap,” said Leech to me, “doesn’t mind +what he is about, I will <i>draw</i> and defend myself”—an +idle threat, for nothing could have provoked that +gentle, noble nature into personality, no trace of +which is to be found in the long list of his admirable +works.</p> + +<p>Several letters, delightfully boyish, written by +Leech to his father from the Charterhouse, are in +my possession. Some of them, I think, may appropriately +appear in this place.</p> + +<p class="pt2 rgt f80">“Septr 19 1826</p> + +<p class="sc">“Dear Papa</p> + +<p>    “I hope you are quite well. I beg you will +let me come out to see you for I am so dull here, +and I am always fretting about, because I wrote to +you yesterday and you would not let me come out. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" id="page9"></a>9</span> +I will fag hard if you will let me come out, and will +you write to me, and the letter that you write put in +when you are going to Esex and when you return +for I want to very particularly</p> + +<p>“How is Mamma, Brother and Sisters</p> + +<p>“I hope Ester is quite well,</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Your affectionate<br /> +“Son</p> + +<p class="rgt sc">“J Leech</p> + +<p>“I am very sorry that I stayed away from School +with —— but I promise never to do it again and I +beg you will let me come out on Sunday.”</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p class="rgt f80">“Charter House October 2 <span class="un">1826</span></p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Papa.</p> + +<p>    “You told me to write to you when the reports +where made out, they are made out now, +and mine is, does his Best. I hope you are quite +well, and Mamma the same. I hope Tom Mary +Caroline, and Ester are quite well. I have not +spoken to Mr Chapman yet about the tuter, and +drawing Master, because I had not an oppertunity, +send me a cake as soon as it is convenient</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Your affectionate son</p> + +<p class="rgt1 sc">“J Leech.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" id="page10"></a>10</span></p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p class="rgt f80">[<i>No date.</i>]</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Papa.</p> + +<p>    “I write this note to know how poor little +Polly is I hope she is better to day pray write to me +before the day is over and tell me how she is. I +hope you and Mamma Tom and Fanny are all well +since I left you last night.</p> + +<p>“I am happy to say I am at the very top off the +Form</p> + +<p>“Tell Mamma not to forget to come and see me +on Wenesday as she said she would. I would write +to Polly now only I have not time pray give Polly a +1000 kiss for me and Fanny and Tom the same. +As I said before I hope poor little Polly is better.</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Your affectionate<br /> +“Son</p> + +<p class="rgt sc">“J Leech.”</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p class="sc">“My Dear Papa,</p> + +<p>    “My report was made out yesterday but I +forgot to write to you therefore I tell you to-day, +it was (generally attentive) If any afternoon or +morning that you have time I should be very happy +to see you. You can see me in the morning from +12 to half-past two and in the evening from 4 +till 9.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" id="page11"></a>11</span></p> + +<p>“Send me another suit of clothes if you please +and a cap. Mind the gloves. I hope Polly continues +to get better and I hope you and Mamma +Brother and sisters are quite well. Send me a +penknife if you please. I remain</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Your affectionate<br /> +“Son</p> + +<p class="rgt sc">“J Leech.”</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p class="sc">“Dear Papa</p> + +<p>    “Will you let me come out to see you once +before my sisters go to school, for I feel quite unhappy +here and miserable. I am afraid I shall not +be able to get promoted yet, therefore I am afraid I +shant be able to come out. But you promised me +that if I did not get promoted you would let me +come out. I try as much as I can to get promoted. +Do let me come out once before my Sisters go to +School.</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Your affectionate<br /> +“Son</p> + +<p class="rgt sc">“J Leech</p> + +<p>“Tell Mamma to send me a cake as soon as she +can</p> + +<p>“Send me some money as soon as you can.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" id="page12"></a>12</span></p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p class="rgt f80">“September 14 1827</p> + +<p class="sc">“My Dear Papa.</p> + +<p>    “I am happy to say that Mr Baliscombe says +that for my Holiday Task I deserve promotion and +says it is very well done indeed. Come and see me +as soon as you can. I think I shall get promoted +when Dr Russell sees my Holiday Task—In fact +Mr Baliscombe is going to ask him to put me up. +I hope you and Mamma are quite well. Springett +went to the play he tells me and did not come back +till the morning. I hope dear old Camello and the +dear little Baby Bunning are quite well, would you +mind sending Mrs Jeffkins some partridges for I +know she would like some. Tell Mamma to write +to me as soon as she possibly can.</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Your affectionate<br /> +“Son</p> + +<p class="rgt sc">“J Leech</p> + +<p>“P.S. I would not send the porter only I have +got neither wafer nor seal’wax.”</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p class="rgt f80">“Sepr 16th 1827</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Papa.</p> + +<p>    “I am very happy indeed to say that I am +promoted for I know it makes you happy. Let me +come out next Saturday and come and see me to-morrow. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" id="page13"></a>13</span> +I have no sealing wax or would not send +the porter.</p> + +<p>“I hope you are quite well and Mamma and Old +Camello and the little Baby Bunning the same</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Your affectionate<br /> +“Son</p> + +<p class="rgt sc">“J Leech.”</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p class="sc">“Dear Papa</p> + +<p>    “As I am rather short of money and want to +keep my money I’ve got, I should be much obliged +if you would give my ambassador 18 pence or so as +I’ve promised a boy at school one of those small +bladders to make balloons of, if you remember you +bought me one once. I hope you are all well</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“I remain</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Your affectionate son</p> + +<p class="rgt sc">“J Leech.”</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p class="sc">“Dear Papa</p> + +<p>    “Will you be so kind as to send me half a +crown by the porter and allowence me every week</p> + +<p>“I was obliged to send the porter</p> + +<p>“I hope you Mamma Brothers and sisters are +quite well.</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Your affectionate son</p> + +<p class="rgt sc">“J Leech.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" id="page14"></a>14</span></p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p class="rgt f80">[<i>No date.</i>]</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Mamma</p> + +<p>    “I understand that you came to see me yesterday, +and me being in the green, you did not see +me, so that made me still more unhappy, I beg you +will come and see me on Saturday for I am very +unhappy.</p> + +<p>“I want to see you or Papa very much indeed.</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Your affectionate son</p> + +<p class="rgt sc">“J Leech.”</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p class="sc">“My dear Papa.</p> + +<p>    “You desired me to send you my report I +have not had it since the last one. I went into be +examined by Dr Russell yesterday but I did not get +promoted but I did not lose more than one or two +places. I will send you my next report. I hope +you are quite well.</p> + +<p>“Mamma and Brother and sisters the Same</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Your affectionate<br /> +“Son</p> + +<p class="sc rgt">“J Leech.</p> + +<p>“I would have written to you sooner but <i>I had +not time</i>.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" id="page15"></a>15</span></p> + +<p class="pt1">Leech made no way at the Charterhouse; never +approaching the position held by Thackeray, who +was four years his senior: indeed, I doubt that they +saw, or cared to see, much of each other, little +dreaming that they would ultimately become dear +and fast friends till death separated them, only to +meet again, as we believe, after the sad, short +interval that elapsed between the deaths of each.</p> + +<p>I cannot say I believe in inherited talent, but the +fact that the elder Leech was said to be a remarkable +draughtsman seems to strengthen the theory held by +some people. I have never seen any specimens of +the father’s drawing, nor did I ever hear the son +speak of it. Anyway, Leech <i>père</i> had no faith in the +practice of art as a means of livelihood for his son, +for he informed the youth, after a nine years’ attendance +at the Charterhouse, that he was destined +for the medical profession. There is no record of +any objection on the part of Leech to his father’s +decision, at which I feel surprise; for the flame +which burnt so brilliantly in after-life must have been +always well alight, and very antagonistic to the kind +of work required from the embryo surgeon. Leech’s +gentle yielding nature influenced him then as always; +and he went to St. Bartholomew’s, where under +Mr. Stanley, the surgeon of the hospital, he worked +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" id="page16"></a>16</span> +hard and delighted his master by his excellent +anatomical drawings. From these studies may be +traced, I think, much of the knowledge of the human +form, and above all of <i>proportion</i>, always displayed +in his work; for in those wonderful drawings, whether +a figure is tall or short, fat or thin, whether he deals +with a child or a giant, with a dog or a horse, no +disproportion can be found.</p> + +<p>It appears that the elder Leech’s affairs were +already in such an embarrassed condition, that an +intention to place his son with Sir George Ballingall, +an eminent Scottish doctor, was abandoned, and +after a time he was placed with a Mr. Whittle, a +very remarkable person, who figures under the name +of Rawkins in a novel written by Albert Smith and +illustrated by Leech. Smith’s work, with the title of +“The Adventures of Mr. Ledbury and his Friend +Jack Johnson,” was first published in <i>Bentley’s +Miscellany</i>.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Rawkins,” says Albert Smith, “was so +extraordinary a person for a medical practitioner +that, had we only read of him instead of having +known him, we should at once have put him down +as the far-fetched creation of the author’s brain. +He was about eight-and-thirty years old, and of +herculean build except his legs, which were small +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" id="page17"></a>17</span> +in comparison with the rest of his body. But he +thought that he was modelled after the statues of +antiquity, and, indeed, in respect of his nose, which +was broken, he was not far wrong in his idea—that +feature having been damaged in some hospital +skirmish when he was a student. His face was +adorned with a luxuriant fringe of black whiskers, +meeting under his chin, whilst his hair, of a similar +hue, was cut rather short about his head, and worn +without the least regard to any particular style or +direction. But it was also his class of pursuits +that made him so singular a character. Every +available apartment in his house not actually in use +by human beings was appropriated to the conserving +of innumerable rabbits, guinea-pigs, and ferrets. +His areas were filled with poultry, bird-cages hung +at every window, and the whole of his roof had +been converted into one enormous pigeon-trap. It +was one of his most favourite occupations to sit, on +fine afternoons, with brandy-and-water and a pipe, +and catch his neighbours’ birds. He had very +little private practice; the butcher, the baker, and +the tobacconist were his chief patients, who employed +him more especially with the intention of +working out their accounts. He derived his principal +income from the retail of his shop, his appointments +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" id="page18"></a>18</span> +of medical man to the police force and +parish poor, and breeding fancy rabbits. These +various avocations pretty well filled up his time, +and when at home he passed his spare minutes in +practising gymnastics—balancing himself upon one +hand and laying hold of staples, thus keeping himself +at right angles to the wall, with other feats +of strength, the acquisition of which he thought +necessary in enabling him to support the character +of Hercules—his favourite impersonation—with +due effect.”</p> + +<p>It is not to be wondered at that Mr. Whittle, <i>alias</i> +Rawkins, should find that stealing his neighbours’ +pigeons, together with his other unprofitable accomplishments, +to say nothing of the sparseness of paying +patients, could have only one termination—bankruptcy. +Mr. Whittle ended his career in a public-house, +of which he became proprietor after marrying +the widow who kept it. Here he put off his coat to +his work, and in his shirt-sleeves served his customers +with beer. Leech and Albert Smith, and others of +his pupils took his beer readily, though they had +always declined to take his pills. It is said that he +was originally a Quaker, and that he died a missionary +at the Antipodes.</p> + +<p>Leech stayed but a short time with the pigeon-fancying +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" id="page19"></a>19</span> +Whittle, whom he left to be placed under +Dr. John Cockle, afterwards Physician to the Royal +Free Hospital. Leech seems to have been a pretty +regular attendant at anatomical and other lectures, +and it goes without saying that his notes were +garnished with sketches, for which his fellow-students +sat unconsciously; and plenty of them remain to +prove the impossibility of checking an inclination so +strongly implanted in such a genuine artist as John +Leech.</p> + +<div class="center art1"><img style="width:150px; height:35px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img001.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" id="page20"></a>20</span></p> + +<p class="chap2 center">CHAPTER II.</p> + +<p class="center scs">EARLY WORK.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc chap1">It</span> was at St. Bartholomew’s that Leech made +acquaintance, which soon ripened into friendship, +with Albert Smith, Percival Leigh (a future comrade +on the <i>Punch</i> Staff, and author of the “Comic +Latin Grammar,” “Pips’ Diary,” etc.), Gilbert à +Beckett and many others, all or most of whom +served as models for that unerring pencil.</p> + +<p>The impecunious condition of Leech senior before +John had reached his eighteenth year was such as to +make his chances of getting a living by medicine or +surgery, even if successful, so remote as to place +them beyond consideration. No doubt the elder +Leech’s misfortunes were “blessings in disguise,” +for we owe to them the necessity that compelled the +younger man to devote himself to art.</p> + +<p>The art of drawing upon wood, to which Leech in +his later years almost entirely confined himself, dates +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" id="page21"></a>21</span> +back from very early times. Lithography, or drawing +upon stone, is a comparatively modern invention, +and, until the introduction of photography, was used +for varieties of artistic reproduction. It was to that +process we owe the first published work of Leech. +The artist was eighteen years old when “Etchings +and Sketchings,” by A. Pen, Esq., price 2s. plain, 3s. +coloured, was offered tremblingly to the public. The +work was in the shape of four quarto sheets, which +were covered with sketches, more or less caricatures, +of cabmen, policemen, street musicians, hackney +coachmen with their vehicles and the peculiar breed +of animal attached to them, and other varieties of +life and character common to the streets of London. +This work is now very rarely to be met with; it consisted +chiefly, I believe, of characteristic heads and half-length +figures. To “Etchings and Sketchings” the +young artist added some political caricatures, also in +lithography, of considerable merit. With these, or, +rather, with the heavy stones on which they were +drawn, we may imagine the weary wanderings from +publisher to publisher; the painful anxiety with +which the verdict, on which so much depended, +was waited for; the hopes that brightened at a word +of commendation, only to be scattered by a few +stereotyped phrases, such as, “Ah, very clever, but +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" id="page22"></a>22</span> +these sort of things are not in our way, you see; +there is no demand,” and so on.</p> + +<p>1836, when Leech was still a boy, saw the production +of works called “The Boy’s Own Series,” +“Studies from Nature,” “Amateur Originals,” +“The Ups and Downs of Life; or, The Vicissitudes +of a Swell,” etc.</p> + +<p>The delicate touch and the grasp of character +peculiar to the artist are recognised at once in many +examples.</p> + +<p>Leech’s struggle for bread for himself and others +must have been terrible at this time; indeed, up to the +establishment of Rowland Hill’s penny post, when, +by what may be called a brilliant opportunity, Leech +attracted for the first time the public attention, which +never deserted him.</p> + +<p>The title of this book is “The Life and <i>Work</i> of +John Leech.” Of the former, as I have shown, there +is little to tell; on the latter, volumes, critical, descriptive, +appreciative, might be written. An artist is +destined to immortality or speedy oblivion according +to his work, and it was my earnest hope, on +undertaking this memoir, that I should be able to +prove, by the finest examples of Leech’s genius, that +an indisputable claim to immortality was established +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" id="page23"></a>23</span> +for him. To a great extent I have been permitted +to do so; but the law of copyright has debarred me +from the selection of many brilliant pictures of life +and character on which my, perhaps unreasonably +covetous, eyes had rested. The proprietors of <i>Punch</i> +and also of the copyright of most of Leech’s other +works are, no doubt, properly careful of their +interests, and I can imagine their surprise at the +extent of my first demands upon their good-nature. +In my ignorance I had thought that as my object +was the honour and glory of John Leech—a feeling, +no doubt, shared by them—the treasures of <i>Punch</i> +would be spread before me, with a request that +I would help myself. I do not in the least complain +that I found myself mistaken. There are, no +doubt, good reasons for the limits to which I was +restricted, though I am unable to see them; and, +granting the existence of those reasons, I should be +ungrateful if I did not express my thanks for the small +number of illustrations from <i>Punch</i> and other sources +which I am allowed to use. I confess I was delighted +to find that the first few years of the existence +of <i>Punch</i> were free by lapse of time from +copyright protection, and as some of Leech’s best +work appears in the volumes between 1841 and +1849, I am able to show my readers further proofs +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" id="page24"></a>24</span> +of the justice of the artist’s claim to be remembered +for all time.</p> + +<p>Leech’s hatred of organ-grinding began very early +in his career.</p> + +<div class="condensed list"> +<p class="sc">“Wanted, by an aged Lady of very Nervous Temperament, +a Professor, who will undertake to mesmerize +all the Organs in her Street. Salary, so much per +Organ.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The drawing which appeared in <i>Punch</i> in 1843, +with the above title, was the first of the humorous +series that continued almost unbroken for more than +twenty years. It is pitiable to think of the long +martyrdom that Leech suffered from an abnormal +nervous organization, which ultimately made street-noises +absolute agony to him. In the illustration +the singular difference of dress in the organ-grinder +of fifty years ago and him of the present time is +noticeable, as also are the perfect expressions of +the small audience. Leech’s chief contributions to +<i>Punch</i> at this time were the large cuts, in which +Peel, Brougham, the great Duke of Wellington, and +others, play political parts in matters that would be +of little interest to the reader of to-day, nor are the +drawings of exceptional merit.</p> + +<p>In 1844 there appeared an irresistible little cut, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" id="page25"></a>25</span> +the precursor of so many admirable variations of +skating and sliding incidents.</p> + +<p class="ptb1 sc center f90">“Now, Lobster, keep the Pot a-biling.”</p> + +<p>What could surpass the impudence of the vigorous +youngster, or the expression of the guardsman of +amused wonder as he looks down upon the audacious +imp, as Goliath might have looked upon David?</p> + +<p>The sensation created by the first appearance of +the dwarf Tom Thumb remains vividly in my +memory. I saw him in all his impersonations; that +of Napoleon, in which he was dressed in exact +imitation of the Emperor, was very droll. The +little creature was at Waterloo, taking quantities of +snuff from his waistcoat pocket, giving his orders +for the final charge which decided his fate; and when +he saw that all was lost, his distress was terrible: +he wrung his little hands and wept copiously, amidst +the uproarious applause and laughter of the audience. +Then he was at St. Helena, and, standing on an +imaginary rock, he folded his arms, and gazed wistfully +in the direction of his beloved France. After +a long, lingering look, he shook his little head, and +with a sigh so loud as to astonish us, he dashed the +tears from his eyes, and made his bow to the audience, +some of whom affected to be shocked by the +laughter of the unthinking, and loudly expressed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" id="page26"></a>26</span> +their sympathy with the great man in his fall. I +well remember the great Duke going to see the +amusing dwarf, but why Leech should have represented +him in the dancing attitude, as shown in the +illustration, seems strange. Surely a more serious +imitation of a Napoleonic attitude would have been +more telling and more comic.</p> + +<p>The next print illustrates a paper in <i>Punch</i> called +“Physicians and General Practitioners.”</p> + +<p>“The physician almost invariably dresses in +black,” says the writer, “and wears a white neck-cloth. +He also often affects smalls and gaiters, +likewise shirt-frills” (fancy a physician in these +days thus dressed!). He appears, no doubt very +properly, in perpetual mourning. The general practitioner +more frequently sports coloured clothes, as +drab trousers and a figured waistcoat. With respect +to features, the Roman nose, we think, is more +characteristic of physicians; while among general +practitioners, we should say, the more common of +the two was the snub.</p> + +<p>The general practitioner and the physician often +meet professionally, on which occasion their interests +as well as their opinions are very apt to clash; +whereupon an altercation ensues, which ends by the +physician telling the general practitioner that he is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" id="page27"></a>27</span> +an “impudent quack,” and the general practitioner’s +replying to the physician that he is “a contemptible +humbug.”</p> + +<div class="center ptb2"><img style="width:421px; height:550px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img046.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p>How perfectly Leech has realized the scene for +us the drawing abundantly shows. It is, perhaps, +not too much to say that he never surpassed in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" id="page28"></a>28</span> +drawing, expression, and character, these two admirable +figures; full of contempt for each other, the +emotion is expressed naturally, and with due regard +to the peculiarities, widely varying, of each of the +disputants.</p> + +<p>More years ago than I care to remember, I met +at dinner Mr. Gibson, the Newgate surgeon. At +that time an agitation was afoot respecting public +executions, the advocates maintaining that the sight +of a fellow-creature done to death acted as a deterrent +on any of the sight-seers who were disposed to +risk a similar fate, the objectors declaring that the +exhibition only made brutes more brutal, and was in +no way a deterrent. As Mr. Gibson had had a long +experience of criminals and their ways, it was thought +worth while to ask his opinion of the matter in dispute. +The surgeon said that, feeling strongly on +the subject of public hanging, he had made a point +of asking persons under sentence of death if they +had ever attended executions, and he found that +over three-fourths—he told us the exact number, +but I cannot trust my memory on the point—had +witnessed the finishing of the law. So much for the +deterrent effect. The disgraceful scenes that took +place at the execution of the Mannings produced a +powerful letter to the press from Dickens, and an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" id="page29"></a>29</span> +equally powerful article in the <i>Daily News</i>, by Mr. +Parkinson. Parliament was aroused, and public +executions ceased.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:550px; height:500px" src="images/img048.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">Where ’ave we bin? Why, to see the Cove ’ung, to be +sure!”</td></tr></table> + +<p>The Leech drawing which follows appeared in +1845, some years before the Manning murder, and +a considerable time previous to the agitation on the +subject of hanging in public. If ever a moral lesson +was inculcated by a work of art, this powerful drawing +is an example. Who knows how much it may +have done towards hastening the time when those +horrible exhibitions ceased?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" id="page30"></a>30</span></p> + +<p>Is this squalid group, with debauchery and criminality +in evidence in each figure, likely to be morally +impressed by the sight of a public hanging? What +are they but types of a class that always frequented +such scenes? The dreadful woman has carried her +child with her; the little creature’s attenuated limbs +point to the neglect and ill-usage sure to be met +with from such parents.</p> + +<p>To those unacquainted with the “Caudle Lectures” +by Douglas Jerrold, which appeared at this time in +<i>Punch</i>, I recommend the perusal of those inimitable +papers. One of their merits is their having given +occasion for an admirable drawing by Leech. Lord +Brougham was, in the eyes of <i>Punch</i> and many +others, a firebrand in the House of Lords. He was +irrepressible, contentious, and brilliant on all occasions, +quarrelsome in the extreme, and a thorn in +the side of whatever Government was in power +unless he was a member of it. The Woolsack, more +especially the object of his ambition, was made a +very uneasy seat to any occupant. Behold him, +then, as Mrs. Caudle—an excellent likeness—making +night hideous for the unhappy Caudle, +whose part is played by the Lord Chancellor—Lyndhurst—while +the Caudle pillow is changed into +the Woolsack.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" id="page31"></a>31</span></p> + +<div class="condensed"> +<p class="center sc">“The Mrs. Caudle of the House of Lords.”</p> + +<p>“What do you say? <i>Thank heaven! you are going to enjoy the +recess, and you’ll be rid of me for some months?</i> Never mind. +Depend upon it, when you come back, you shall have it again. +No, I don’t raise the House and set everybody by the ears; but +I’m not going to give up every little privilege, though it’s seldom +I open my lips, goodness knows!”—“Caudle Lectures” (improved).</p> +</div> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:609px; height:500px" src="images/img050.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“An Eye to Business.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>Whether such a scene as the following ever took +place may be doubted; but that it might have +happened, and may happen again, there is no doubt. +One meets with strange seaside objects, and to +bathe at the same time as one’s tailor is within the +bounds of possibility. Leech evidently thought so, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" id="page32"></a>32</span> +hence this delightful little cut, wherein we see the +creditor—evidently a tailor—improving the occasion +to remind his fellow-swimmer of his little bill. See +the businesslike aspect of the one and the astonishment +and alarm of the other, who in the next few +vigorous strokes will place himself beyond the reach +of his creditor.</p> + +<p>Full of sympathy, as Leech was, for human suffering, +and frequently as he dealt with sea-sickness, he +certainly never showed the least pity for the sufferers +by that miserable malady. Its ludicrous aspect was +irresistible to him, as numbers of illustrations sufficiently +prove, and none more perfectly than the one +introduced in this place, with the title of “Love on +the Ocean,” representing a couple evidently married +on the morning of this tempestuous day. “Why, oh +why,” I can hear the unhappy bridegroom say to himself, +“did we not arrange to pass our honeymoon in +some pleasant place in England, and so have avoided +crossing this dreadful sea?” To be ill in the dear +presence of—oh, horror! And the lady is so unconscious, +so serenely unconscious, of the impending +catastrophe! She enjoys the sea, and, being of +a poetical turn, she thus improves the occasion:</p> + +<p>“Oh, is there not something, dear Augustus, truly +sublime in the warring of the elements?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" id="page33"></a>33</span></p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:463px; height:550px" src="images/img052.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“But Augustus’s Heart was too full to speak.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>Let anyone who suffers at sea fancy what it is to +be spoken to at all, when the fearful sensations, the +awful precursors of the inevitable, have full possession +of him, and then to suffer in the very presence +of the dear creature from whom every human weakness +has been hitherto carefully hidden! The drawing +is followed by a poem, in which the position of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" id="page34"></a>34</span> +the unhappy Augustus is described. He could not +speak in reply to his bride’s appeal; in the words of +the poet:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem f90"><tr><td> <div class="poemr"> +<p>“She gazed upon the wave,</p> + <p class="i2">Sublime she declared it;</p> +<p class="i05">But no reply he gave—</p> + <p class="i2">He could not have dared it.</p> + +<p class="s">“Oh, then, ‘Steward!’ he cried,</p> + <p class="i2">With deepest emotion;</p> +<p class="i05">Then tottered to the side,</p> + <p class="i2">And leant o’er the ocean.”</p> +</div> </td></tr></table> + +<p>Poor miserable Augustus! his face is pale as +death, his treasured locks blown out of shape; his +eyeglass swings in the wind; the distant steamer is +making mad plunges into the heaving wave; the +rain falls, and let us hope the romantic bride turns +away as her young husband “leans o’er the ocean.”</p> + +<p>Only those who have passed from the tableland of +life can recollect the passion for speculation in railways +that took possession of the public in 1845 and +the two or three following years. I myself caught +the disease, and, acting on the advice of “one who +knew,” I bought a number of shares in one of the +new lines; these were £25 shares, on which £8 +each had been paid. I was assured by my adviser +that I should receive interest at the rate of eight per +cent. till the year 1850; after that time the line would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" id="page35"></a>35</span> +pay ten. I awoke one morning to find that a panic +was in full blast, and all railway property depreciated. +My feelings may be imagined, for I certainly cannot +describe them, when I found, on reference to the +<i>Times</i>, that my £8 shares—£17 being still due +upon each—were quoted at half a crown apiece! +My friend had the courage of his opinions, for he +had invested the whole of his property in railway +stocks. He was completely ruined in mind and +body, and died miserably before the panic was +over.</p> + +<p>Multiply these examples by thousands, and you +will arrive at a clear idea of the nature of a panic, +which seems to mystify the young gentleman +immortalized by Leech in the drawing illustrating +the following dialogue:</p> + +<div class="condensed sc"> +<p>“I say, Jim, what’s a Panic?”</p> + +<p>“Blowed if I know; but there is von to be seen in the +City.”</p> +</div> + +<p>It has been my fate in the course of a long life to +attend several fancy-dress balls, but I can scarcely +call to mind a single example of the successful +assumption of an historical character, or, indeed, of +any character that could disguise the very modern +young lady or gentleman who was masquerading in +it. My first acquaintance with Mark Lemon, so +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" id="page36"></a>36</span> +long the esteemed editor of <i>Punch</i>, began in the +Hanover Square Rooms, at a fancy-dress ball given +by a society—chiefly, I think, composed of the better +class of tradespeople—called the Gothics. On that +occasion might have been seen a young gentleman +in the dress of one of Charles II.’s courtiers, and +looking about as unlike his prototype as possible—in +earnest conversation with another courtier, of the +time of George II. I was of the Charles’ period, +Lemon of that of the Georges. Those who remember +Lemon’s figure later in life would have been +surprised by the change that time had made in it, +if they could have witnessed the interview between +the two young men, one scarcely stouter than the +other. In proof of my idea that the greater number +of guests were in trade, I might give scraps of conversation +between Mary Queen of Scots and Guy +Fawkes, or between Henry VIII. and Edward the +Black Prince, that would leave no doubt on the +subject; nay, later in the evening I had convincing +proof of the correctness of my surmise, as you shall +hear. I danced with a Marie Antoinette of surpassing +beauty, with whom I fell incontinently in love. +More than once I danced with her, and when +supper was announced, my earnest appeal to be +allowed to conduct her to the banquet was successful. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" id="page37"></a>37</span> +My lovely friend was full of the curiosity +peculiar to her sex, which showed itself in her +anxiety to know who and what I was. To tell the +truth, I was equally curious to know who she was, +and what her friends were.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said I, “if you will tell me who you are, I +will tell you who I am and what I am.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” was the reply, “I think I know what you +are; but what’s your name?”</p> + +<p>“You know what I am?” said I, surprised; “what +am I?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you are in the same line that we are, I +fancy.”</p> + +<p>“And what line is that?”</p> + +<p>“The army tailoring. Am I right?”</p> + +<p>In the illustration that accompanies these remarks +Leech has succeeded in presenting to +us a Norman knight completely characteristic, a +Crusader more real, I think, than any modern +could have rendered him. The lady he escorts, in +a dress a few hundred years after Crusading times, +is very lovely. The capital little Marchioness, +with the big door-key, the four-wheeler, and the +laughing crowd, make up a scene of inimitable +humour.</p> + +<p>We now come to the first of those precocious +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" id="page38"></a>38</span> +youths in whose mannish ways, whose delightful +impertinence to their elders, whose early susceptibility +to the passion of love for ladies three times +older than themselves, are shown by Leech in +many a scene I should have given to my readers, +but over them the Copyright Act stands guard. +“’Tis true, ’tis pity, pity ’tis, ’tis true,” that in a +book intended solely to do honour to Leech’s +genius, so many of the most perfect examples +of it are denied to us.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:520px; height:500px" src="images/img057.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Sir! Please, Mr.! Sir! you’ve forgot the Door-key!”</td></tr></table> + +<p>Well may the governor stare with open-mouthed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" id="page39"></a>39</span> +astonishment at such a proposal from such a creature! +Look at him as he throws his little arm over his +chair in the swaggering attitude he has so often +observed in his elders, and raises a full glass of +claret! “Just as the twig is bent the tree’s inclined;” +but that we know that in this instance the +twig is indulging in a harmless freak, one might be +inclined to dread the tree’s inclining.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:569px; height:400px" src="images/img058.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption"><span class="sc">Eton Boy</span> (<i>loq.</i>): “Come, governor! just one toast—‘The +Ladies’!”</td></tr></table> + +<p>The political opinions of the writer of this book +are of no consequence to himself or anybody else. +It would perhaps be pretty near the truth if he were +to admit that he had no political opinions worth +speaking of. To those, however, who were interested +in the struggle for Free Trade, which in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" id="page40"></a>40</span> +year 1846 raged with great fury, the question was, +and still is, one of vital interest. The landed interest, +headed by most of the aristocracy on the one side, +and the manufacturing interest, championed by +Cobden and Bright, on the other, raised a storm in +which language the reverse of parliamentary was +tossed from side to side. Peel was Prime Minister, +and his ultimate conversion to the principles of Free +Trade, and consequent advocacy of the repeal of +the Corn Laws, horrified his supporters—by whom, +notably by Disraeli, he became the object of envenomed +attack—but led to a settlement of the +question, and gave Leech an opportunity for the +production of drawings of the victor and the vanquished, +entitled, Cobden’s “Bee’s Wing” and Richmond’s +“Black Draught,” two of the most successful +of the political cartoons.</p> + +<p>“The Brook Green Volunteer” gave Leech the +opportunity for many illustrations which, to my +mind, are nearer approaching caricature than most +of his work; nor have they, as a rule, the beauty or +human interest that so many of his drawings show. +I fear I must charge the volunteer himself with +being in possession of an impossible face and a no +less impossible figure; his action also is exaggerated. +In compensation we have a delightful family group. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" id="page41"></a>41</span> +The mother with that naked baby perambulating +her person is beyond all praise. Women do strange +things, but I deny the possibility of such a woman +as Leech has drawn ever finding it in her heart to +marry that volunteer. The little thing standing on +tip-toe to dabble in baby’s basin for the benefit of +her doll, the delighted lookers-on, not forgetting the +warrior riding his umbrella into action, are invested +with the charm that Leech, and Leech only, could +give them.</p> + +<p>The year 1846 gave birth to the first fruit from a +field in which Leech found such a bountiful harvest. +The racecourse gave opportunities for the exhibition +of life and character of which the great artist took +advantage in numberless delightful examples. Pen +and pencil record adventures by road and rail. +Whether the excursionist is going to the Derby or +returning from it, whether he is high or low, a Duke +or a costermonger, that unerring hand is ready to +note his follies or his excesses, always with a kindly +touch, or to point a moral if a graver opportunity +presents itself.</p> + +<p>A madman, they say, thinks all the world mad but +himself; and it is not uncommon for a drunken man +to imagine himself to be the only sober person in the +company. That some feeling of this kind possesses +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" id="page42"></a>42</span> +the rider in the drawing opposite, as he addresses +the stolid postboy, is evident enough; his drunken +smile, his battered hat, and his dishevelled dress, are +eloquent of his proceedings on the course; and if his +return from the Derby is not signalized by a fall +from his horse, he will be more fortunate than he +deserves to be. In works of art the value of contrast +is well known, and a better example than the +face of the postboy offers to that of his questioner +could not be imagined. He drunk, indeed! not a +bit of it.</p> + +<p>A pretty creature in the background must not be +overlooked. She is a perfect specimen of Leech’s +power of creating beauty by a few pencil-marks. +Her beauty has evidently attracted notice, and +caused complimentary remarks from passers-by, +which are resented by the old lady in charge, +who tells the speaker to “<i>go on with his imperdence</i>!”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:820px; height:454px" src="images/img062.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“The Return from the Derby.”</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcl f90"><span class="sc">Smith</span>: “Hollo! Poster, ain’t you precious drunk, rather?”</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcl f90"><span class="sc">Postboy</span>: “Drunk! not a bit of it!”</td></tr></table> + +<p class="pt2">I cannot resist presenting my readers with another +Derby sketch. It is more than probable that if +either of these young gentlemen had asked for leave +of absence from his official duties for the purpose +of going to the Derby, he would have met with +stern denial. The attraction, however, is irresistible, +and though the subterfuge by which it is achieved is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" id="page43"></a>43<br />44</span> +not to be defended, who is there that is not glad that +the wicked boy is penning that audacious letter, as it +is the cause of our having a picture that is a joy +for ever? As a work of art, whether as a composition +of lines and light and shadow, in addition to +perfect character and expression, this drawing takes +rank amongst the best of Leech’s works. Note the +admirable action of the youth who is putting on his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" id="page45"></a>45</span> +coat—a momentary movement caught with consummate +skill.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:447px; height:500px" src="images/img063.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“The Derby Epidemic.”</td></tr></table> + +<p class="pt2">“<span class="sc">Gentlemen</span>,</p> + +<p>    “Owing to sudden and very severe indisposition, +I regret to say that I shall not be able to +attend the office to-day. I hope, however, to be +able to resume my duties to-morrow.</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“I am, gentlemen,</p> +<p class="rgt1">“Yours very obediently,</p> +<p class="rgt sc">“Phillip Cox.”</p> + +<p class="pt2">Doctors differ, as everybody knows; and in no +opinion do they differ more than in the way children +should be treated. One of the faculty will tell you +that a healthy child should be allowed to eat as +much as he or she likes; another advises that as +grown-up people are disposed to eat a great deal +more than is good for them, a boy is pretty sure to +do the same unless a wholesome check is imposed +upon his unruly appetite. A great authority is +reported to have said that as many people are killed +by over-eating as by over-drinking; “in fact,” said +he, “they dig their graves with their teeth.” If +that be so, the young gentleman in “Something +like a Holiday” is destined for an early tomb.</p> + +<p>Comment on this wonderful youth is needless. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" id="page46"></a>46</span> +We can only share the alarm and astonishment so +admirably expressed in the pastrycook’s face. That +this awful juvenile’s memory should serve him so +perfectly when he has taken such pains to cloud it, +as well as every other faculty, is also surprising.</p> + +<div class="center pt2"><img style="width:443px; height:500px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img065.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<div class="condensed1"> +<p><span class="sc">Pastrycook</span>: “What have you had, sir?”</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Boy</span>: “I’ve had two jellies; seven of those, and eleven of +these; and six of those, and four bath-buns; a sausage-roll, ten +almond-cakes, and a bottle of ginger-beer.”</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" id="page47"></a>47</span></p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:514px; height:520px" src="images/img066.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Alarming Symptoms on eating Boiled Beef and +Gooseberry-Pie.”</td></tr></table> + +<div class="condensed1"> +<p><span class="sc">Little Boy</span>: “Oh lor, ma! I feel just exactly as if my jacket +was buttoned.”</p> +</div> + +<p>If “a fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind,” the +boy in the following drawing would have delighted +in the society of the <i>gourmet</i> at the pastrycook’s. +Boiled beef and gooseberry-pie are good things +enough in their way, but one may have too much +of a good thing, with the inevitable result of the +tightening of the jacket. This greedy-boy drawing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page48" id="page48"></a>48</span> +appeared in 1846, and created a great sensation in +the youth of that day, and many days since. Careful +parents have been known to use this terrible +example of over-eating as a warning to their offspring +that a fit of apoplexy frequently followed the +tightening of the jacket.</p> + +<p>I think my married reader of the rougher sex +will agree with me when I say that there are few +more uncomfortable, not to say alarming, moments +than those spent in the awful interview with the +parents of his beloved, during which he has to +prove beyond all doubt that he is in every respect +an individual to whom the happiness of a “dear +child” can be safely entrusted. What a bad quarter +of an hour that is before the meeting, when he has +grave doubts as to the sufficiency of his income! +Will it, with other future possibilities, be considered +sufficient to assure to “my daughter, sir, the comforts +to which she has been accustomed”? This he +will have to answer satisfactorily, together with a +few score more questions more or less agonizing. +Leech drew a scene of common application when +he produced the picture that follows, which he calls +“Rather Alarming”—“On Horror’s Head, Horrors +accumulate.” Look at that terrible female and prospective +mother-in-law!—think of satisfying such a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" id="page49"></a>49</span> +woman that you are worthy of admission into her +family! How sincerely one pities that poor little +Corydon, and how heartily one wishes him success!</p> + +<div class="condensed"> +<p class="center sc">“Rather Alarming.”</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lady</span>: “You wished, sir, I believe, to see me respecting the +state of my daughter’s affections with a view to a matrimonial +alliance with that young lady. If you will walk into the library, +my husband and I will discuss the matter with you.”</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Young Corydon</span>: “Oh, gracious!”</p> +</div> + +<p>Leech treats—how admirably!—another greedy +boy, or, rather, two greedy boys.</p> + +<div class="condensed"> +<p><span class="sc">Jacky</span>: “Hallo, Tommy! what ’ave you got there?”</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Tommy</span>: “Hoyster!”</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Jacky</span>: “Oh, give us a bit!”</p> +</div> + +<p>A Calais oyster, no doubt—large enough for +both; but Tommy will not share his happiness. +Intensity of expression pervades him from his open +mouth to his fingers’ ends. Jacky’s face and figure +are no less expressive of eagerness to join in the +banquet.</p> + +<div class="center pt2"><img style="width:430px; height:530px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img069.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<div class="condensed1 list"> +<p>“<span class="sc">So you have taken all your Stuff, and don’t feel any +better, eh? Well, then, we must alter the Treatment. +You must get your Head shaved; and if you +will call here to-morrow Morning about eleven, my +Pupil will put a Seton in the back of your Neck.</span>”</p> +</div> + +<p>If ever man suffered from <i>embarras de richesse</i>, I +am that individual in making a selection from the +early drawings of Leech; where all, or nearly all, +are so perfect, choice becomes difficult indeed. I +cannot resist, however, the one that follows this +remark. For perfection of character and richness +of humour, it seems to me unsurpassable. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" id="page50"></a>50</span> +doctor’s attitude as he contemplates his victim—who +seems to have brought with her the huge empty +physic-bottles to prove that she has taken all her +“stuff”—to say nothing of his startling individuality, +is Nature itself; and that immortal pupil with the +big knife, smiling in anticipation of the operation +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" id="page51"></a>51</span> +“to-morrow about eleven”! One can read on the +face of the patient a dull realization of the doctor’s +announcement that only a seton in the back of her +neck—whatever that may mean to her—will be of +any service now; and to render the operation +successful, she must have her head shaved.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:440px; height:550px" src="images/img070.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Awful Apparition to a Gentleman whilst Shaving in +the Edgware Road, September 29, 1846.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>The statue of the Duke of Wellington, which so +long disgraced Hyde Park Corner, has disappeared, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" id="page52"></a>52</span> +to the satisfaction of the world in general, though +there were, I believe, a few dissentients who saw, +or said they saw, beauty in one of the most hideous +objects ever perpetrated by the hand of man; yet +the “ayes had it,” and the monster has departed.</p> + +<p>The effigy was manufactured in a studio near +Paddington Green, and it was on its journey +through the Edgware Road to the arch now on +Constitution Hill that the gentleman in Leech’s +cartoon was startled by a very remarkable object, to +say the least of it.</p> + +<p>Speaking from my own experience, I have always +found a difficulty in giving the effect of wind in a +picture; the action of it on drapery, trees, skies, +etc., is—from the almost momentary nature of the +gusts—far from an easy task. No one who ever +handled a brush or a pencil has been so successful +as Leech in conveying the action of wind on every +object, and never did he succeed more completely +than in an “Awful Scene on the Chain Pier at +Brighton,” which is, no doubt, somewhat farcical; +but how intensely funny! Master Charley has +gone, and his ma’s parasol has accompanied him. +The horror-struck nursemaid is almost blown off her +feet; and Charley’s brother, also terror-stricken, will +be down on his back in a moment; whilst his little +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" id="page53"></a>53</span> +sister maintains her equilibrium with great difficulty. +The flying hat, and the couple staggering against +the blast in the distance, all help to realize for us the +exact effect of a wind-storm.</p> + +<div class="condensed"> +<p><span class="sc">Nursemaid</span>: “Lawk! there goes Charley, and he’s took his +ma’s parasol! What <i>will</i> missus say?”</p> +</div> + +<div class="center pt2"><img style="width:601px; height:530px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img072.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<div class="condensed1"> +<p><span class="sc">Waiter</span>: “Gent in No. 4 likes a holder and a thinner wine, +does he? I wonder how he’ll like this bin!”</p> +</div> + +<p>As there is no condition in life that has not +proved food for Leech’s pencil, that of the waiter +was fruitful in many never-to-be-forgotten scenes. +I introduce one which is very humorous, and scarcely +an exaggeration. It is called “How to Suit the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" id="page54"></a>54</span> +Taste.” A guest seems to have found his port too +new and strong.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:667px; height:470px" src="images/img073.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Hollo! Hi! here, Somebody! I’ve turned on the Hot +Water, and I can’t turn it off again!”</td></tr></table> + +<p>One of the peculiarities of Leech’s art is that +“time cannot wither it, nor custom stale its infinite +variety.” I defy the most serious Scotchman to +look at the sketch below without laughing at it. +As the gentleman who is on the highroad to being +parboiled is in one of the sketches of 1846, many +of my readers may see him for the first time. I +envy that man; but though I am very familiar with +the wonderful little drawing, a renewed acquaintance +is always a delight to me. We know the bather +can jump out of the scalding water when he likes, +but there he is, with clouds of steam rising about +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" id="page55"></a>55</span> +him, screaming in deadly terror for “somebody” to +come to his rescue.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:600px; height:622px" src="images/img074.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">“Symptoms of a Masquerade.”</td></tr></table> + +<div class="condensed1"> +<p><span class="sc">Better-Half</span> (<i>loq.</i>): “Is this what you call sitting up with a +sick friend, Mr. Wilkins?”</p> +</div> + +<p>Here follows a drawing of a different character, +opening up very appreciable possibilities, and not +very pleasant consequences for the hero of the +piece. Mr. Wilkins left the domestic hearth to sit +up with a sick friend. “Yes, my dear,” I can hear +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" id="page56"></a>56</span> +him say to his spouse, “I may be late; for if I find +I can comfort the poor fellow by my conversation, I +cannot find it in my heart to hurry away from him.” +Wicked Mr. Wilkins! What was there wrong in +going to a masquerade? and if it was criminal to +do so, why leave the evidence of your guilt where +Mrs. W. could find it? Was that a <i>lady’s</i> mask? +In the eyes of the outraged wife I dare say it was, +though it may only have been used to cover the +homely features of the deceiver, whose pale face +and empty soda-water bottle plainly prove that the +evening’s entertainment will not bear the morning’s +reflections.</p> + +<div class="center pt2"><img style="width:600px; height:507px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img076.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<div class="condensed1"> +<p><span class="sc">Juvenile</span>: “I say, Charley, that’s a jeuced fine gurl talking to +young Fipps! I should like to catch her under the mistletoe.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The first drawings of “The Rising Generation,” +in which are portrayed the premature affections and +the amusing affectations of the manners and sayings +of their elders that, according to Leech, distinguished +the <i>jeunesse doré</i> of England, appeared in 1846, and +have been so admirably described by Dickens elsewhere +as to leave me only the task of placing some +of the drawings before the reader, carefully avoiding +those the great writer has noticed so felicitously. +The young gentleman in the drawing introduced +here would like to catch the pretty creature talking +to the fascinating young man under the mistletoe, no +doubt! We know his wicked intentions; but how +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" id="page57"></a>57</span> +would he carry them out? He is not tall enough +to reach the lady’s elbow; but love in such passionate +natures laughs at difficulties, and he will find a +way; and he calls a man old enough to be his father +<i>young</i> Fipps! Delightful little dog! and no less +delightful is his friend Charley, who smiles encouragement, +and would do likewise. These works +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" id="page58"></a>58</span> +of Leech possess what it is not too much to call an +historical interest, as they chronicle truly the dresses +of the time. In the object of our young friend’s +admiration, I fancy I see the approach of crinoline, +while her ringlets afford a striking contrast to the +fringes of the present day. An old lady would now +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" id="page59"></a>59</span> +create a sensation indeed if she appeared in a turban +like that which bedecks the sitting figure.</p> + +<div class="center pt2"><img style="width:550px; height:527px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img077.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<div class="condensed1"> +<p><span class="sc">Juvenile:</span> “Uncle!”</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Uncle:</span> “Now, then, what is it? This is the fourth time +you’ve woke me up, sir.”</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Juvenile:</span> “Oh! just put a few coals on the fire and pass the +wine, that’s a good old chap!”</p> +</div> + +<p>Again the irrepressible juvenile, under different +conditions. Behold him practising upon a very +testy old gentleman, who has been so rude, in the +estimation of his young nephew, as to go to sleep +after dinner.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:550px; height:485px" src="images/img078.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“The Rising Generation.”</td></tr></table> + +<div class="condensed1"> +<p><span class="sc">Juvenile</span>: “Ah, it’s all very well! Love may do for boys and +gals; but we, as men of the world, know ’ow ’ollow it is.”</p> +</div> + +<p>In his notices of the freaks of the rising generation +Leech did not confine himself to juveniles of +the higher and middle ranks, but occasionally he +shows us the young snob, of whom he makes—with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" id="page60"></a>60</span> +modifications—the same mannish and amusingly vain +creature as his confrères, the little swells. As an +illustration, I present my reader with a scene in a +coffee-house, in which two friends are refreshing +themselves, and exchanging philosophical reflections +on the vanities of human life. These lads look like +shop-boys, but—in their own estimation—with souls +far above their positions in life. The spokesman +has found the truth of the poet’s description of the +course of true love in the conduct of some barmaid +who has jilted him, hence his bitterness.</p> + +<p>In the year 1847 Leech produced much of his +best work, and in justification of this dictum I advise +the study of a drawing full of character, humour, and +beauty. Thousands of heads of households could +vouch for the truth of the situation depicted there, +and where is the mistress whose mind has not misgiven +her when a request from her pretty servant +has been urged that she might “go to chapel this +evening”? “Chapel, indeed!” one can hear her +mutter to herself; “I’ve not the least doubt the +baker’s man is waiting for her round the corner!” +I am loath to find fault with such a work as this, +but I <i>do</i> think that perfect maid deserved a more +presentable lover than the pudding-faced, knock-kneed +soldier who is personating the “bit of ribbin.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" id="page61"></a>61</span> +The artist appears to me to charge his story-telling +maid with very bad taste indeed. Would the drawing +have lost, or gained, if Leech had given us a +handsome young guardsman instead of this ugly +fellow? He would, at any rate, have made the little +fib a little more pardonable. The other figures deserve +careful attention—notably, the youth absorbed +in the study of natural history.</p> + +<div class="condensed"> +<p><span class="sc">Servant-Maid</span>: “If you please, mem, could I go out for half +an hour to buy a bit of ribbin, mem?”</p> +</div> + +<p>If there be amongst my readers any who are +unfamiliar with Cruikshank’s illustrations of “Oliver +Twist,” I advise them to turn to them, where they +will find a drawing of Fagin in the condemned cell +at Newgate, one of the most awful renderings of +agonized despair ever depicted by the hand of an +artist. This great work is travestied by Leech in a +manner so admirable as to make the travesty take +rank with the original. Instead of Fagin, see King +Louis Philippe smarting under the failure of his +schemes and the impending fall of his dynasty. By +the Spanish marriages the veteran trickster destroyed +the power which he sought to consolidate.</p> + +<p>Domestic troubles and misadventures were represented +by Leech in many examples, with a sympathetic +humour that never wearies. A party may +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page62" id="page62"></a>62</span> +be assembled for a dinner which is strangely delayed; +conversation flags into silence. The host and +hostess become uneasy, when a button-boy appears +with the ominous “Oh, if you please, ’m, cook’s very +sorry, ’m, could she speak to you for a moment?” +Something has happened; but we are left in uncertainty +as to what it was.</p> + +<p>Or the dinner is served, when an alarming announcement +is made:</p> + +<div class="condensed"> +<p><span class="sc">Servant</span> (<i>rushing in</i>): “Oh, goodness gracious, master! +There’s the kitchen chimley afire, and two parish ingins a-knocking +at the street door.”</p> +</div> + +<p>One of the happiest of the servant-gal-isms appears +this year—the precursor of many excellent tunes on +the same string—delightfully illustrative of the +vanity which we all share, more or less, with our +maids. In the picture that follows, the sight of the +old lady’s new bonnet and a convenient looking-glass +have provided an opportunity that the pretty +servant could not resist. She must see how she +looks in it—and behold the result!</p> + +<div class="center pt2"><img style="width:650px; height:539px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img082.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<div class="condensed1"> +<p><span class="sc">Domestic</span> (<i>soliloquizing</i>): “Well, I’m sure, missis had better +give this new bonnet to me, instead of sticking such a young-looking +thing upon her old shoulders.” (The impudent minx has +immediate warning.)</p> +</div> + +<p>I must refer my readers to <i>Punch’s</i> almanac for +1848, copiously illustrated by Leech, for many +admirable examples of his many-sided powers. +Alas! my space forbids the reproduction of any of +them. Amongst the rest there is one of a gentleman +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page63" id="page63"></a>63</span> +suffering from influenza, which, by the way, +seems to have been as prevalent in 1848 as it has +been recently, though not so fatal in its effects. +Our sufferer is visited by a condoling friend: he +sits with his feet in hot water, and, with his hand on +the bell-pull, he says, “This is really very kind of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page64" id="page64"></a>64</span> +you to call. Can I offer you anything? A basin +of gruel, or a glass of cough mixture? Don’t say +no!”</p> + +<p>Another of a rich old lady, who stands before a +pyramid of oyster-barrels, all sent to her at Christmas +by her poor relations. Another—but I must +pause, and again refer my reader to the almanac.</p> + +<p>I find yet one more of the “Rising Generation” +series quite irresistible. The two little bucks are +perfect, and the idea of such a report as that one of +them was engaged to the magnificent woman—whose +face we long to see—is so ludicrous as almost to reach +the sublime of absurdity. Look at the eagerness +with which the precocious youth impresses upon his +friend the necessity of contradicting the rumour, +and the well-bred and considerate way in which the +friend receives a communication which does not +surprise him. He does not smile at it. There is +nothing astonishing in a man’s being in love with +such a fine woman, and he will certainly contradict +anyone who repeats the report, as his friend desires. +If the creatures had been six feet high instead of +not so many more inches, they could not have +conducted themselves more naturally.</p> + +<div class="center pt2"><img style="width:630px; height:525px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img084.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<div class="condensed1"> +<p><span class="sc">Juvenile</span>: “Oh, Charley, if you hear a report that I am going +to be married to that girl in black, you can contradict it. There’s +nothing in it.”</p> +</div> + +<p>1848 witnessed the fall of the French throne and +the tottering of others in Europe. It was a terrible +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" id="page65"></a>65</span> +time, and though the English throne was safe +enough, a great deal of vague alarm existed in this +country. The Chartists met in their thousands, and +prepared a bill of grievances with signatures, making +a document, it was said, some miles long. This +petition they announced their intention of presenting +to Parliament, accompanied by a procession, which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" id="page66"></a>66</span> +was really to be some miles long; but they reckoned +without their host—of opponents. Special constables +were enrolled (amongst whom was Louis Napoleon), +soldiers were at hand, skilfully hidden by the great +Duke, and the Chartist procession was peacefully +stopped long before it got to Westminster.</p> + +<p>There were firebrands then as now, and a meeting +was called by one of them to be held in Trafalgar +Square—see how history repeats itself!—where a +ragamuffin assembly appeared; so did the police, +and nothing came of it except a few broken heads +and the inimitable drawings by Leech. How admirable +they are!</p> + +<p>The person who wanted more liberty, equality, +and fraternity than was good for him or anybody +else, was a Mr. Cochran, and his adherents were +called Cochranites.</p> + +<div class="condensed"> +<p><span class="sc">Cochranite</span>: “Hooray! Veeve ler liberty!! Harm yourselves!! +To the palis!! Down with heverythink!!!!”</p> +</div> + +<p>In the second picture the Cochranite has collapsed. +A stalwart policeman has taken him in +hand, and he cries, “Oh, sir—please, sir—it ain’t +me, sir. I’m for God save the Queen and Rule +Britannier. Boo-hoo!—oh dear! oh dear!” (bursts +into tears).</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" id="page67"></a>67</span></p> + +<p>Below we have another result of the agitation, +touched in Leech’s happiest manner. A special +constable endeavours to arrest an agitator, who +evidently objects, and prepares for resistance.</p> + +<div class="center pt2"><img style="width:630px; height:523px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img086.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<div class="condensed1"> +<p><span class="sc">Special Constable</span>: “Now mind, you know—if I kill you, +it’s nothing; but if you kill me, by Jove! it’s murder!”</p> +</div> + +<p>A certain Master Jackey was a great favourite of +Leech’s. In an elaborate work this youth’s pranks +are chronicled under the heading of “Home for the +Holidays.” Whether the hero of those adventures +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" id="page68"></a>68</span> +is the same as he who is pictured in the work I +present to my readers I know not. In all probability +the taste for practical joking which flourished +so vigorously in the holiday scenes began, as we +see, in the nursery. Master Jackey has been to the +play, where he has witnessed the performances of a +contortionist, and, emulous of rivalling the professor, +he perils the limbs and lives of his brothers and +sisters in his operations. We know of the tendency +to imitate in all children, but when the propensity +shows itself in the imitation of tricks that require +long practice before they can be performed with +safety, the game, though amusing to the players, +may be very dangerous to the played upon. It is to +be hoped that the rush of the terrified mother in +this capital scene may be in time to save the baby +from a perilous fall. The little brothers have already +tasted the consequence of Master Jackey’s imitation.</p> + +<p>The accompanying drawing was suggested by myself +during an after-dinner conversation at a friend’s +house. The talk had turned on the difficulty that the +pronunciation of certain words would prove to one +who had dined not wisely but too well, when it occurred +to me that “Plesiosaurus” or “Ichthyosaurus” would +be troublesome, and I said so. Leech smiled, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" id="page69"></a>69</span> +said nothing, but in <i>Punch</i> of the week following his +idea of the difficulty appeared.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:520px; height:623px" src="images/img088.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Recreations in Natural History.”</td></tr></table> + +<div class="condensed1"> +<p><span class="sc">First Naturalist</span>: “What, the s-s-she-sherpent a-an (hic!) +Ich-(hic!)-thyosaurus! Nonshence!”</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Second Naturalist</span>: “Who said Ich-(hic!)-Ichthy-o-saurus? +I said Plesi-o-(hic!)-saurus plainenuff.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The cabman who doesn’t know his way about +London is exceptional, but he is met with occasionally, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" id="page70"></a>70</span> +and very provoking he is; but to have his little +trap-door knocked off its hinges because he takes a +wrong turning is a punishment in excess of his fault. +The young gentleman passenger is of an impatient +turn, and he will find that his impatience will have +to be paid for unless the cabman is more good-natured +than he looks.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:470px; height:535px" src="images/img089.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Cabman is supposed to have taken a Wrong Turning, +that’s all.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>Flunkeiana cannot be omitted in this short +summary of Leech’s work, more especially as the +first of a long series is one of the best. Nothing +can be conceived more perfect than the man and the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" id="page71"></a>71</span> +maid at the seaside—the girl, French from top +to toe; the flunkey, a most perfect type of the +class.</p> + +<div class="condensed"> +<p><span class="sc">French Maid</span>: “You like—a—ze—seaside—M’sieu Jean +Thomas?”</p> + +<p><span class="sc">John Thomas</span>: “Par bokhoo, mamzelle—par bokhoo. I’ve—aw—been +so accustomed to—aw—gaiety in town, that I’m—aw—a’most +killed with arnwee down here.”</p> +</div> + +<p>The immortal Briggs made his first appearance in +<i>Punch</i> in the year 1849, and with one or two records +of his career I regret to say I must close my selected +list of Leech’s early works. To say I regret this is +to say little, for I am obliged to forego numberless +delightful works, many as good as, and some perhaps +better than, those I have presented to my readers. +Mr. Briggs first appears with newspaper in hand in +his snug breakfast-room, listening to a complaint +from the housemaid that a slate is off the roof, and +the servant’s bedroom in danger of being flooded. +Mr. Briggs replies that the sooner it is put to rights +the better, before it goes any further—and he will see +about it. Mr. Briggs does see about it; he sees the +builder, who tells him that “a little compo” is all +that is wanted. The drawings show that eight or +ten men are required to manage the little compo, +much to Mr. Briggs’ astonishment.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page72" id="page72"></a>72</span></p> + +<p>In the next scene a huge scaffolding is raised, and +a small army of labourers are at work on Mr. Briggs’s +roof. A noise enough to wake the dead has awoke +Mr. Briggs at the unpleasant hour of five in the +morning. Flower-pots and bricks fall past his +dressing-room window. He finds “no time has +been lost, and that the workpeople have already +commenced putting the roof to rights.” The builder +would not be true to his craft if he did not improve +the occasion and show his employer how easy, now +that the workpeople were about, it would be to make +certain additions in the shape of a conservatory, etc., +to the house. Briggs weakly listens to the voice of +the charmer; walls are battered down to enlarge the +dining-room, and the entrance-hall is enlarged. Mr. +Briggs’s health gives way, and he calls in the doctor, +who prescribes horse exercise.</p> + +<p>I think it was at one of those never-to-be-forgotten +dinners at Egg’s that, the talk having turned +upon shooting experiences, Dickens said that the +sudden rising of a cock-pheasant under one’s nose +was like a firework let off in that uncongenial +locality. The following week Leech subjected +Mr. Briggs to the startling experience so admirably +recorded in the drawing which faces this page.</p> + +<div class="center ptb2"><img style="width:830px; height:550px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img092.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p>For a further acquaintance with Mr. Briggs’s performances +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page73" id="page73"></a>73<br />74</span> +on horseback, as well as his escapades +with gun and fishing-rod, I must content myself with +referring those curious on the matters to the pages +of <i>Punch</i>, where they will find entertainment that is +inexhaustible.</p> + +<div class="center art1"><img style="width:150px; height:35px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img001.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page75" id="page75"></a>75</span></p> + +<p class="chap2 center">CHAPTER III.</p> + +<p class="center scs">MR. PERCIVAL LEIGH AND LEECH.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc chap1">In</span> the death of Mr. Percival Leigh, which took +place a short time ago, the last member of the +original staff of <i>Punch</i> passed away. Mr. Leigh +never married, and died at a very advanced age. I +frequently met him in society, where his refined and +gentle manners, and his quaintly humorous conversation, +were what might have been anticipated +from the author of “Pips his Diary,” the “Comic +Grammars,” and other contributions to the paper to +which he was so long and so faithfully attached. +From the days of their fellow-studentship at +St. Bartholomew’s (with a short interval), to the +time of Leech’s death, a firm friendship existed +between these two distinguished men.</p> + +<p>Much alike in their sense of humour, they also +resembled each other in numberless amiable qualities +of heart and mind. Leigh’s pen was as free from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" id="page76"></a>76</span> +personality, and as conspicuous for the gentleness +with which it dealt with folly, as Leech’s pencil. In +early and late days, when Leech was in trouble, +Leigh’s was the hand—amongst others—ever ready +to help; and to those who can read between the lines +in the paper which Mr. Leigh has contributed to +this book, there will be little difficulty in discovering +the “friend” who found purchasers for work that +the producer was barred (in a double sense) from +selling for himself.</p> + +<p>I see little or no reason for weakening my assertion +that Leech arrived at his supreme eminence +without any art education; for the slight mechanical +knowledge of the art of drawing upon wood which +he acquired from Mr. Orrin Smith, a wood-engraver, +is no more worthy the name of art-teaching, than the +few lessons in etching given to Leech by George +Cruikshank can be called art-education. Following +the example of Sir John Millais, Mr. Percival Leigh +(to whom, it will be remembered, Millais recommended +my predecessor, Mr. Evans, to apply) furnished +the following remarks for this memoir.</p> + +<p>Said Mr. Leigh: “Orrin Smith has been dead +many years. How long Leech was with him I +cannot say precisely. Perhaps a twelvemonth or +thereabouts. Smith was a sociable and rather a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page77" id="page77"></a>77</span> +clever man, but according to Leech, occasionally so +economical that he would now and then try to get a +little gratuitous work out of him. On one occasion +Smith asked him to introduce a few figures, so as to +put a touch of action into a drawing on wood, meant +to illustrate a serious little book, the work of a +clergyman. The scene represented was a quiet +churchyard. Leech improved it with a group of +little boys larking and boxing.</p> + +<p>“Of course these embellishments, on discovery, +were objected to as painfully incongruous, and had +to be cancelled. I forget whether or no they +had been actually engraven before they were taken +out.”</p> + +<p>Thus far Mr. Leigh. I think I can interpret the +incongruity. I fancy I can hear Leech say, after +previous unrequited sketches, “Oh, hang it! this is +too bad. Well, here goes; he shall have a few +figures, and I hope he’ll like ’em.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Leigh continues: “The post-office envelope +was one of Leech’s successes; so were the ‘Comic +Histories’ of England and Rome, and the ‘Comic +Blackstone’; but his growth in popularity was +gradual. He had previously illustrated ‘Jack Brag’ +for Bentley, and subsequently various articles for +<i>Bentley’s Miscellany</i>, particularly the ‘Ingoldsby +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page78" id="page78"></a>78</span> +Legends,’ as well as other ephemeral works of the +same publisher; amongst them the ‘Comic Latin’ +and ‘English’ Grammars, and the ‘Children of the +Mobility,’ a travesty of the ‘Children of the Nobility,’ +long since out of print. He also furnished coloured +illustrations to the ‘Fiddle-Faddle Fashion-book,’ a +whimsical satire on the fopperies and literary +absurdities of the period, also out of print.”</p> + +<p>I venture again to interrupt the current of +Mr. Leigh’s narrative with a word or two on the +“Fiddle-Faddle” book. A copy of it, date 1840, +has been lent to me. The literary portion, consisting +mainly of a thrilling story of brigand life, the +blood-curdling tenor of which may be imagined from +the title, “Grabalotti the Bandit; or, The Emerald +Monster of the Deep Dell,” is the work of Mr. +Leigh. The story opens thus:</p> + +<p>“Italia! oh, Italia! blooming birthplace of +beauty! land of lazzaroni and loveliness! clime +of complines and cruelty, of susceptibility and sacrilege, +of roses and revenge! thy bright, blue, +boundless skies serene I love; thy verdant vales, +volcanoes, vines, and virgins! Thy virgins? ay, +thy bright-eyed, dark-haired virgins. I love them—how +I love them, though mine, alas! they ne’er +can be! And there was one who, in earlier, happier +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page79" id="page79"></a>79</span> +hours, before these locks were—no matter. Let +me proceed with the calmness becoming a narrator +with my tale.”</p> + +<p>And he proceeds “with a vengeance” to let us +know that the spokesman of the above is an artist +who had “halted in a deep ravine in the Abruzzi +(where, on each side, the cliffs frowned like fiends +upon the quailing traveller) to transfer to my portable +sketch-book a slight souvenir of the celestial +scene. Absorbed in my enthralling occupation, I +heeded not the approach of a visitant; it was therefore +with surprise, not unmingled with alarm, that I +was aroused by a tap upon the shoulders, accompanied +by the following sarcastic greeting:</p> + +<p>“‘Is thy maternal parent, young man, aware of +thine absence from home?’</p> + +<p>“‘Quite so,’ I replied, in a tremulous tone, +anxiously glancing round to behold the speaker.</p> + +<p>“My acquaintance with literature—to say nothing +of my constant attendance at the opera—at once convinced +me that I was in the hands of a brigand.”</p> + +<p>Had there been “any possible doubt whatever,” +it would have been instantly dispelled; for after +“smiling in demoniacal derision,” the disturber of +the sketcher said, “deliberately and tranquilly, as +he levelled a pistol at my head:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page80" id="page80"></a>80</span></p> + +<p>“‘Thy wealth or thy existence!’</p> + +<p>“My sole remaining ducat was offered in vain. +At the shrill sound of his whistle the crags bristled +with bandits, and fifty carbines were pointed at my +person. Blue with boiling agony, I made as a last +resource the Masonic sign. It succeeded. At another +signal every carbine was lowered, and breathless +expectation brooded over the heart of its bearer.”</p> + +<p>The bandits, however, were not so easily satisfied; +for “a murmur of impatience, mingled with discontent, +arose, like the billows of emotion, amongst +the troop, and some twenty weapons again kissed +with their stocks as many manly shoulders.</p> + +<p>“‘Back, slaves, for your lives!’ shouted the +infuriated Grabalotti, throwing himself in front of +me. ‘One moment more, and, by the blood-stained +power of the thundering Avalanche, the foremost of +you dies!’</p> + +<p>“Cowering in cream-like humility, each individual +reversed his implement of death—all but one. A +ball from the pistol of Grabalotti instantly crashed +through his brain. For a moment he writhed in +sable pangs; then all was over, and darkness +mantled over his impetuosity for ever. Then, +turning towards me, the brigand chief gave me a +civil invitation to spend the day with him, which, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page81" id="page81"></a>81</span> +under existing circumstances, I thought it best to +accept. On our way I took the opportunity thus +furnished me to survey my lawless companion. He +was at least six feet and a half, independent of the +coverings of his feet, in height; his air was stern +and commanding; raven ringlets clustered down to +his shoulders. Premature intensity glowed in his +volcanic eyes; his nose was Roman, and he wore +mustachios. The lines in the lower part of his face +were indicative of death-fraught concentration; +and the teeth, frequently disclosed by his smile of +pervading bitterness, were remarkably white. The +gloom of his conical hat was mocked by gay +ribands. He wore a jacket of green velvet (an +expensive article), lustrously gemmed with gold +buttons; and those portions of his dress for which +our language has no proper appellation were richly +meandered with superior lace. His legs were +variously swathed in the manner so characteristic +of his profession. The carbine that slept in a +snowy belt at his back; the pistols bickering in +his girdle; and the stiletto reposing, like candid +innocence, in its silver sheath, with its ivory handle +protruding from his sash, were all of the most +ornamental and valuable description.”</p> + +<p>This extraordinary robber and the artist arrive at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page82" id="page82"></a>82</span> +“the dwelling of the bandit, which was eligibly +situate among the most romantic scenery.”</p> + +<p>Signor Grabalotti conducted his visitor to a +“table groaning with fruit, and supporting six +sacramental chalices filled with the richest wine.”</p> + +<p>The brigand has made a great haul of prisoners, +whose friends have not shown the alacrity in +rescuing them required by their captor, who, by +way of entertaining his guest, orders them all, to +the amount of a dozen, into his presence, and, +arranging them in a row “along a trench in the +background,” with the assistance of twelve of his +men, has them all shot.</p> + +<p>“Almost ere the smoke had cleared away, the +earth was shovelled over the bodies.</p> + +<p>“‘And now,’ said the chief, ‘for a dance in +honour of our guest.’</p> + +<p>“Four-and-twenty brisk young bandits, clad in +jackets, green array, were instantly joined by as +many maidens, each wearing the square <i>coiffure</i>, +short dress, and <i>petite</i> apron, and otherwise fully +attired in the costume of the country. Each robber +provided himself with a partner, and a festive dance +was performed with great spirit to a popular air.</p> + +<p>“Their gaiety was at its height, when suddenly +the sound of a distant bell stole with milky gentleness +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page83" id="page83"></a>83</span> +on the ear. In an instant all present fell on +their knees, and, with their arms devoutly crossed +upon their breasts, raised, in heavenly unison, their +hymn of votive praise to the Virgin.”</p> + +<p>Here endeth the first chapter of the “Emerald +Monster of the Deep Dell.”</p> + +<p>As “a satire on the literary absurdities of the +day,” to quote its author, this capital fooling could +not be surpassed; indeed, to those who remember, +as the present writer can distinctly, the effusions in +prose and verse—or, as Jerrold called it, “prose +and worse”—that more or less filled the pages of +the Keepsakes, the Books of Gems and Beauty of +a long bygone time, the “Monster of the Deep +Dell” is scarcely a caricature.</p> + +<p>But I have not yet done with him. The second +chapter is devoted to an account in Grabalotti +language of the early life and loves of the interesting +bandit:</p> + +<p>“Rino Grabalotti is my name,” he says. “Italy +is my nation; the Deep Dell is my dwelling-place, +and—but no! never shall monkish cant pollute the +lips to baleful imprecation attuned for ever. Let +the blue and hideous glare of the lightning, and +the ghastly gleam of the hag-ridden meteor, illumine +the deeds of my doing. Growl, ye thunders! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page84" id="page84"></a>84</span> +Roar, ye tempests! Yell, ye fiends, and howl in +hideous harmony a prelude to my tale!”</p> + +<p>He then proceeds to inform the artist (who, with +an eye for copy, ventures to hint “that an outline +of his history would be interesting”) that he was +the son of a priest, and born in Naples; and +naturally much annoyed by the scandalous irregularity +of his birth, he devotes his life to robbing +and murdering as many of his fellow-creatures as +good fortune places in his hands in the practice of +his profession.</p> + +<p>But I anticipate. Grabalotti declines to say much +about his infancy; he seems to have been pretty +often reminded of the scandal of his birth, and as +often he registered a vow that, sooner or later, +he would close for ever the mouths of the slanderers.</p> + +<p>“It was in my sixteenth summer,” he continues, +“that I really began to live. Though in years a +boy, I was in all else a man. Passion hurtled in +my darkening eye, and plunged my heart in lava. +I loved; what Italian at my age does not? Yes; +I—the ruthless, the scathed, the smouldering, the +sanguinary, the Emerald Monster of the Deep Dell—I, +even I, gasped with tortuous anguish in the +maddening transports of Cupid.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page85" id="page85"></a>85</span></p> + +<p>Giulia is the name of the fair creature who has +caused the eruption of this volcanic passion; and on +what the bandit-lover calls “an evening of rosy +gladness,” he seeks his fair enslaver’s window, +guitar in hand. But the voice, “which was the +best at a barcarole of any in Naples,” had raised +a very few love notes, when a rough voice exclaims:</p> + +<p>“‘What dost thou here, spurious offspring of +sacrilege?’ accompanying the inquiry by an equally +rough salutation from behind (oh, madness!)—‘begone!’</p> + +<p>“Confusion simmered in my brain. Frenzied, I +turned; one stroke of my stiletto, and my wounded +honour was salved—with gore. It was that of +Giulia’s father!”</p> + +<p>This sudden death of the author of her being +offended Giulia, and she solemnly renounced young +Grabalotti for ever. This intimation, conveyed in +a mixture of “indignation mingled with scorn,” had +an extraordinary effect. Says the lover:</p> + +<p>“Twisting in bitterness awhile I lingered, then +rushed distracted from the spot, and fled hissing +with desperation to the mountains.”</p> + +<p>The beauties of the Deep Dell produced no +soothing effect on the desperate bitterness that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" id="page86"></a>86</span> +twisted the soul of Grabalotti; he issued from the +Dell to “soak and steep his heart in blood.”</p> + +<p>“The dewy wail of infancy, the piercing zest of +female innocence, and the tremulous pleading of +piping feebleness, all mocked at the radiance of the +crimson steel, have poured their bootless incense +o’er my breast.... Ha, ha! The nun, her dove-like +innocence devastated, has broiled like a chestnut +amid the ashes of her convent,” etc.</p> + +<p>More “copy” in the style of the above is imparted +to the artist. But an interruption takes +place. A brigand enters, and so irritates the +monster by the abruptness of his appearance that, +had not the pistol with which his impatient master +received him missed fire, his brains would have +been scattered to the winds of heaven.</p> + +<p>“‘Ha! dost thou dare to break in upon my +mood?’ roared Grabalotti.</p> + +<p>“‘Come to tell you,’ said the robber (speaking +in the greatest possible haste), ‘that the nun who +escaped the sacking of the convent has been taken.’</p> + +<p>“‘Do as you list with her, and chop her head off! +Stay, I would fain see it when it is done; and here, +take this purse for the risk thou hast encountered.’”</p> + +<p>Yet another interruption—this time in the person +of a brigand spy disguised as a peasant. The chief +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" id="page87"></a>87</span> +anticipates startling and perhaps unpleasant news, +and saying: “‘Excuse me, signor, for a few moments,’ +he retires with his emissary.”</p> + +<p>Grabalotti was absent some little time, during +which the artist “added another sketch to his small +collection,” when the monster returned, and informed +his guest “in a lively tone” that they were about to +have “some fun.”</p> + +<p>“‘Of what description?’ inquired the artist.</p> + +<p>“‘In an hour’s time we shall be attacked by the +military,’” to whom he promises a warm reception; +and in the event of the robbers being overpowered +by numbers, “a train communicates with the magazine +below.”</p> + +<p>“Here the head of the unfortunate nun made its +appearance on a silver dish. Its loveliness, even in +death, was intensely overpowering. With a grin of +fiendish malice, Grabalotti seized it by the hair, but +no sooner did the features meet his eye, than he +relinquished his hold and fell, senseless, backwards, +faintly gasping, like a dying echo, ‘’Tis she! ’Tis +Giulia!!’”</p> + +<p>Unless the artist guest was possessed of courage +uncommon among our fraternity, he could not have +contemplated being blown into the air with the +robbers, or being shot by the soldiers, with equanimity; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" id="page88"></a>88</span> +and he must have been much relieved in +any case by Grabalotti, who, when “the violence of +frantic ferocity” had given way to “the calm profundity +of despair,” muttered in a low and suppressed +tone: “Nay, thou shalt live to tell the world my +story!” and to enable his guest to do this eventually, +“in a tone of sweetest melancholy” he said:</p> + +<p>“Stranger, hence! thy further stay is perilous. +Yon by-path will conduct thee to the valleys.”</p> + +<p>Rising from “the valleys” was a crag, to the +summit of which half an hour’s walk would take +the artist, and from thence he was assured that “if +he turned his gaze backwards he should see something +worth seeing.”</p> + +<p>The narrator tells us that he reached the crag in +twenty-nine minutes exactly.</p> + +<p>“For one minute I gazed in the direction of the +Brigands’ Haunt, from which, precisely at the expiration +of that time, a vivid flash of flame, shooting into +the air, accompanied by a dense column of smoke, +and followed by a terrific explosion, proclaimed too +plainly the last achievement of the Emerald Monster +of the Deep Dell.”</p> + +<p class="pt2">Mr. Percival Leigh contributes a second story to +the “Fiddle-Faddle Fashion-book,” in which the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" id="page89"></a>89</span> +novel of fashionable life, not uncommon fifty years +ago, is satirized under the title of “Belleville: a +Tale of Fashionable Life,” not less happily than the +sanguinary and terribly romantic writers are treated +in the burlesque of Grabalotti. The “Clara Matilda +poets” of the Keepsake time are also amusingly +parodied in some short poems, which, with comic advertisements, +occasionally very humorous, fill up the +literary portion of the “Fiddle-Faddle Fashion-book.”</p> + +<p>This book is not the only one in which Leech’s +powers have been enlisted—I was nearly saying +prostituted—in publications devoted to eccentricities +in dress and the caprices of fashion. In illustrations +by him of the tale of fashionable life, or of Grabalotti, +the genius of that great artist would have had +full play; but as the draughtsman of fashion-plates +it was, in my opinion, degraded. In vindication of +my judgment I present my readers with two plates +from the “Fiddle-Faddle” book, in which Leech +portrays—no doubt under direction—caprices of +fashion which could only have existed in his own +imagination, and produced with a feeling of caricature +that is so conspicuous by its absence in his +usual work.</p> + +<p>I now return to the paper which Mr. Leigh wrote +with a view to this memoir.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" id="page90"></a>90</span></p> + +<div class="center ptb2"><img style="width:341px; height:650px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img109.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p>That Leigh and Leech first met as students at +St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, I have noted elsewhere; +and the details of his apprenticeship to the eccentric +surgeon, which Mr. Leigh heard from Leech himself, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page91" id="page91"></a>91<br />92</span> +I have also given, with the exception of one +incident of which I was ignorant.</p> + +<div class="center ptb2"><img style="width:407px; height:700px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img110.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p>“In his dispensary,” says Mr. Leigh, “the doctor +had one drawer amongst his boxes, in which there +were pills of gentle efficacy, intended to be served +out (they were made, I believe, of bread and soap) +to the generality of his customers. This receptacle +bore the label of ‘Pil. Hum.,’—abbreviation of humbug—or, +as their concoctor used to call them, ‘Humbugeraneous +Pills.’ The Dr. Cockle to whom, Mr. +Leigh says, Leech went after he left Mr. Whittle, +was the son of the inventor of Cockle’s Pills.</p> + +<p>“No sooner had he become of age,” continues +Mr. Leigh, “than he was induced, in order to meet +difficulties for which he was not responsible, to +accept an accommodation bill, which the drawer of, +when it fell due, failed to supply the means of +meeting. Leech was consequently arrested for +debt at the suit of this discounter, and lodged in +a sponging-house kept by a sheriff’s officer, a Jew, +by name (I think) of Levi, in Newman Street. +There he remained about a fortnight, supporting +himself in the meanwhile by drawing cartoons and +caricatures. He lithographed them on stone for +Spooner, in the Strand, at a guinea each, a <i>friend</i> +having negotiated their sale.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" id="page93"></a>93</span></p> + +<p>“At last, an advance of money on a projected +publication sufficient to discharge the debt having +been obtained, he was liberated. But not long after, +a second scrape—a repetition of the first—cost him +another temporary sojourn with another Jew in +another sponging-house in Cursitor Street. This +detention, however, lasted but a few days. <i>From +that period to the close of his life</i> he remained subject +to repeated demands for pecuniary assistance under +continued pressure, which, as at the outset, he could +not withstand. The deficits he had to defray were +always heavy; the last of them, as I understand, +a thousand pounds. It cost him very hard work +to make it good. Excess of generosity was his +greatest failing.”</p> + +<p>I have no means of knowing, nor do I desire to +know, who the borrowers were to whom Percival +Leigh alludes; but his revelations make the fact of +Leech having died a comparatively poor man comprehensible +enough. If ever man was killed by +overwork, Leech was that man, and this must be a +painful reflection for those whose incessant demands +upon him made it only possible for him to meet them +by the incessant exertions which destroyed him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Leigh’s paper concludes with the anecdote +that follows:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" id="page94"></a>94</span></p> + +<p>“Leech and Albert Smith worked together very +harmoniously as illustrator and writer in several +books—‘Ledbury,’ ‘Brinvilliers,’ and many others—and +one day when they were leaving Smith’s house +together, a street-boy stepped up to them, and +scoffing at the inscription on Smith’s large brass +door-plate, cried:</p> + +<p>“‘Oh yes! Mr. Albert Smith, M.R.C.S., Surgeon-Dentist.’</p> + +<p>“‘Good boy!’ said Leech, putting a penny into +the boy’s hand; ‘now go and insult somebody +else.’”</p> + +<div class="center art1"><img style="width:150px; height:35px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img001.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" id="page95"></a>95</span></p> + +<p class="chap2 center">CHAPTER IV.</p> + +<p class="center scs">MEETING OF MULREADY AND LEECH.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc chap1">Mr. Mulready</span>, R.A., was commissioned by the +authorities to design a postal envelope for general +use, a penny stamp affixed insuring free delivery of +letters all over England. The design, which should +have been of a simple character, was far too ornate +and elaborate. At the top Britannia was represented +in the act of despatching winged messengers with +letters to all parts of the world, and down the sides +of the envelope were the recipients of letters which +had conveyed heart-breaking news to one side, +and good tidings to the other. As a work of +art the Mulready envelope has, in my opinion, +great merit, but it was ludicrously inappropriate +to the purposes for which it was intended. Leech +saw and seized the opportunity, with the result +appended.</p> + +<p>The signature of the bottled leech, so familiar +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" id="page96"></a>96</span> +afterwards, is used here as Mulready’s signature, and +“thereby hangs a tale,” which, though the burden +of it deals with a future time, I venture to introduce +in this place.</p> + +<div class="center ptb2"><img style="width:700px; height:576px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img115.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" id="page97"></a>97</span></p> + +<p class="center f90 pt2">FORES’S COMIC ENVELOPES N<span class="sp">o</span>. 1</p> + +<div class="center pb2"><img style="width:850px; height:560px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img116.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" id="page98"></a>98</span></p> + +<p>My friend Augustus Egg, R.A., who lived in a +charming house in Queen’s Road, Bayswater, was +not only well known as an excellent artist, but also +as being the Amphitryon whose hospitality was +famous, and whose dinners were still more famous +by reason of the guests who were wont to surround +his table. Where is the hungry man who would +not have been enchanted to meet Dickens and +Leech, Mark Lemon and John Forster (Dickens’s +biographer), Hawkins, Q.C. (now the judge), Landseer, +Mulready, Webster, and other artists less +famous? Of these dinners I shall have something +to say by-and-by; at present I confine myself to one +special occasion.</p> + +<p>It was on one day during the year 1847 that Egg +said to me:</p> + +<p>“You know Mulready better than I do; I wish +you would go and get him to fix a day to dine here—any +day next week will suit me. Leech wants to +meet him; and, somehow or other, though both have +dined here frequently, they have never met.”</p> + +<p>“Good,” said I; “I will do your bidding.”</p> + +<p>And on the following Sunday I called upon +Mulready.</p> + +<p>“Egg will be pleased if you will dine with him any +day next week, sir, that you may be disengaged. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" id="page99"></a>99</span> +He expects the usual set—Dickens, Landseer, +Leech, and the rest. You have never met Leech, I +think; he is very desirous to make your acquaintance.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, is he? Well, I don’t care about knowing +Leech.”</p> + +<p>“Really, sir” (it was always the Johnsonian <i>sir</i> to +the old gentleman), said I, when I had recovered +from my surprise, “may I ask why you won’t meet +Leech?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you may,” said the old painter, “and I will +tell you. Of course you remember that unfortunate +postal envelope that I designed? Well, Leech +caricatured it. You needn’t look so surprised—you +don’t think I am such a fool as to mind being caricatured; +but I do mind being represented as a <i>blood-sucker</i>! +What else can he mean by using that +infernal little leech in a bottle in the front of his +caricature as my signature? You know well enough, +Frith, that I have never asked monstrous prices for +my pictures. You fellows get better paid for your +work than I ever did, and you wouldn’t like to be +called blood-suckers, I expect.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Mulready was an Irishman, and rather a +peppery one; and I am happy to say that I overcame +my disposition to laugh in his face mainly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" id="page100"></a>100</span> +through a feeling of astonishment that my old friend +could be ignorant of the ordinary way in which +Leech signed his drawings.</p> + +<p>“Do you happen to have a number of <i>Punch</i> by +you, Mr. Mulready?” said I.</p> + +<p>“No; as a languid swell said when he was asked +that same question, ‘I am no bookworm; I never +see <i>Punch</i>.’”</p> + +<p>As I could not give my angry friend ocular proof +of his mistake by producing the usual signature to +<i>Punch</i> drawings, I set to work to explain how the +little leech came into the bottle, and, without much +difficulty, convinced my old friend that an insult to +him was not intended.</p> + +<p>The two artists met; and it was delightful to +watch Leech’s handsome face as Mulready himself +told of his misconception. First there was a serious, +almost pained, expression, which, no doubt, arose in +that tender heart from being the innocent cause of +pain to another; the serious look passed off, to give +place to a smile, which broadened into a roar of +laughter. From that moment Leech and Mulready +were fast friends.</p> + +<p>With an apology for the interruption, I return to +my narrative.</p> + +<p>Alas! I can well remember the appearance of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" id="page101"></a>101</span> +“Sketches by Boz,” to be so quickly followed by the +“Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club.” None +but those who witnessed it can conceive the enthusiasm +with which that immortal work was received +by an eager public, who welcomed each number as +it appeared, month after month, with hearty appreciation. +Of course, there were carping critics, one +of whom is reported to have said the author would +“go up like a rocket and come down like a stick.” +That prophet, a man of much literary ability, drank +himself into a debtors’ prison, where, I was told, he +died of delirium tremens.</p> + +<p>There is, I think, a vein of melancholy unusually +developed in the nature of almost all humorists. +As an instance, I may give the actor Liston, whose +humour on the stage was to me unparalleled; off it, +he was gloom personified. Gillray, the caricaturist, +died melancholy mad; and poor Seymour, the first +illustrator of “Pickwick,” committed suicide. I may +remark in this place the surprise with which I heard +Leech say that he could see no fun in any of Seymour’s +sketches.</p> + +<p>In a walk that we took together, I tried to convert +him by naming several examples of what appeared +to me humorous work.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Leech; “the only drawing I ever saw +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" id="page102"></a>102</span> +by Seymour that appeared funny to me was one +in which two cockneys were represented out shooting. +They are about to load their guns, when one +says to the other:</p> + +<p>“‘I say, which do you put in first—powder or +shot?’</p> + +<p>“‘Why, powder, to be sure,’ said his friend.</p> + +<p>“‘Do you?’ was the reply. ‘Then I don’t!’”</p> + +<p>I can vividly recall the shock occasioned by +Seymour’s death. He was fairly prosperous, I +believe. His engagement to illustrate “Pickwick” +was a lucrative one, and he was much employed in +other work. In spite of all these advantages, the +humorist’s melancholy was fatal to him.</p> + +<p>I was present at the banquet at the Royal +Academy when Thackeray, in returning thanks for +literature—Dickens being present—told us how, +on finding there was a vacancy for an illustrator of +“Pickwick,” he took a parcel of drawings to the +author and applied for the place. From my own +knowledge of Thackeray’s limited powers as an +artist, I should have been sure of the failure of his +application. Very different would have been the +fate of Leech, who was also anxious to supply +Seymour’s place; but he was too late, for Dickens +had already chosen Hablot K. Browne, who, under +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" id="page103"></a>103</span> +the sobriquet of “Phiz,” worked in harmony with +his author for very many years. There was no +doubt a disposition on the part of “Phiz” to exaggeration +in his illustration of Dickens’ characters +(already fully charged, so to speak, by their author), +sometimes to the verge of caricature, and even +beyond it; this fault Leech would have avoided, as +his exquisite etchings in Dickens’ Christmas books +fully prove.</p> + +<div class="center art1"><img style="width:150px; height:35px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img001.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page104" id="page104"></a>104</span></p> + +<p class="chap2 center">CHAPTER V.</p> + +<p class="center scs">“THE PHYSIOLOGY OF EVENING PARTIES,” +BY ALBERT SMITH.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc chap1">I have</span> already spoken of the extreme difficulty +of collecting material for this book, and to difficulty +must be added the expense which is incurred by +my publisher. I bear the latter affliction with the +equanimity common to those who escape it; indeed, +there is a kind of satisfaction in finding that books +which are perfectly worthless as literary productions +are so highly valued on account of the prints which +illustrate them. I venture to give an instance in a +very little book called “The Physiology of Evening +Parties,” written by Albert Smith. My reader will +be able to judge by the extracts given in explanation +of the drawings, of the merits of Mr. Smith’s +part in the “Physiology.” This work, published at +2s. 6d. when clean and new, costs 18s. 6d. when +well “worn on the edge of time,” yellow, dirty, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" id="page105"></a>105</span> +unbound. The “Physiology” first saw the light +in 1840. I plead again for forgiveness for chronological +shortcomings, which my difficulties make +unavoidable.</p> + +<p>My first illustration represents a mamma and her +two daughters in the serious business of selecting +guests for an evening party.</p> + +<p>“It is evening,” says Mr. Albert Smith; +“mamma and her two daughters are seated at a +table arranging the names of the visitors upon the +back of an old letter, having turned out the dusty +record of the card-basket before them in order that +no one of importance may be forgotten.</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Ellen</span> (<i>loc</i>.): ‘I am sure I don’t see why we +should invite the Harveys, mamma. They have +been here twice, and never asked us back again.’</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Fanny</span>: ‘And we shall see those dreadful silver +poplins again; they must be intimately acquainted +with the cane-work of all the rout-seats in London.’</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Ellen</span>: ‘And William Harvey is so exceedingly +disagreeable; he always looks at the ciphers on the +plate to see if it is borrowed or not.’</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Fanny</span>: ‘And last year he declared the pine-apple +ice was full of little square pieces of raw +potato; and when Mr. Edwards broke a tumbler +at supper he told him “not to mind, for they were +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" id="page106"></a>106</span> +only tenpence apiece in Tottenham Court Road.” +The low wretch! he thought he had made a capital +joke.’</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Mamma</span>: ‘Well, my dears, I think your papa +will be annoyed if they are left out; but never mind +him—we won’t ask them.’”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:600px; height:500px" src="images/img125.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Mamma and the Girls.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>The discussion respecting the guests goes on, +opinion as to eligibility widely differing. Mamma +proposes Mr. and Mrs. Howard and the four girls, +to which Miss Ellen says:</p> + +<p>“All dressed alike, and standing up in every +quadrille. I declare I will get George Conway to +put an ice in Harriet’s chair for her to sit down +upon, in revenge for her waltzing last year, when +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" id="page107"></a>107</span> +she brushed down the Joan of Arc, and knocked its +head off.”</p> + +<p>This refined conversation continues till Miss +Ellen speaks of her brother’s disposition to interfere +with the invitation-list; she says:</p> + +<p>“‘We must tell Tom not to overdo us so much +with his own friends. I declare last year I did not +know half the young men in the room; and it was +so very awkward when you had to introduce them.’</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:345px; height:500px" src="images/img126.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Two Rude Young Men.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Fanny</span>: ‘And they were not nice persons. +Two of them were in the pit of the Lyceum the +next night, and, seeing us in Mr. Arnold’s box, +would stare us out of countenance. With a single +glass, too!’”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" id="page108"></a>108</span></p> + +<p>“And in this style,” says our author, “the list +is arranged, the hostess gradually becoming a prey +to isinglass and acute mental inquietude, which +gradually increases as the day draws nearer, until +upon the morning of its arrival her very brain is +almost turned to blancmange from the intensity of +her anxiety!”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:409px; height:500px" src="images/img127.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“The Head of the House.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>The whole house is, of course, turned topsy-turvy; +and Leech gives us a picture of the master +of the mansion surrounded by some of the consequences +of giving an evening party.</p> + +<p>“This state of things,” says the chronicler, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" id="page109"></a>109</span> +“much delights the olive-branches of the family, +who, left entirely alone, and quite overlooked in the +general <i>mêlée</i>, divert themselves by poking their +little puddy fingers into the creams, and scooping +out the insides of divers patties with a doll’s leg,” +etc., etc.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:450px; height:461px" src="images/img128.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“An Olive-Branch.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>The ball begins under sundry difficulties. A +most desirable person, “<i>one</i> for whom the party was +almost given, sends a melancholy statement of the +very acute attack of influenza under which <i>they</i> are +labouring,” which they extremely regret will prevent +their accepting, etc. Then one of the intended +<i>belles</i> of the evening is obliged to go suddenly into +the country, to see a sick aunt, but “she sends her +two brothers—tall, <i>gangling</i>, awkward young men +who wear pumps and long black stocks, and throw +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" id="page110"></a>110</span> +their legs about when they are dancing everywhere +but over their shoulders,” etc., etc., says the author. +Here is what Leech thinks of the two brothers.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:318px; height:700px" src="images/img129.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Two ‘Gangling’ Young Men.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>I have never met with the word “gangling” +before; is it an invention of Mr. Albert Smith’s? +I can speak to the truth of the dress of these long +brothers, for I who write have worn the long black +stock and the peculiarly cut coat and waistcoats at +many an evening party.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" id="page111"></a>111</span></p> + +<p>The numerous illustrations of “The Physiology” +are such perfect examples of Leech’s earlier work, +and in themselves so good, that I am induced to +produce several more of them. I don’t know whether +the fascinating person under the hands of the hair-dresser +is Miss Ellen or Miss Fanny. I confess +I can scarcely believe she would talk like either of +them; happy barber! perfect you are as you ply +your vocation; and in that vocation—insomuch as +you have that sweet creature to contemplate—to be +envied indeed!</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:500px; height:430px" src="images/img130.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Preparing for the Ball.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>Then we have the greengrocer, “who is to +assist in waiting.... He wears white cotton +gloves with very long fingers, and was never known +to announce a name correctly, so the astonished +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" id="page112"></a>112</span> +visitor is ushered into the room under any other +appellation than his own.”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:300px; height:391px" src="images/img131a.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“The Assistant-Waiter.”</td></tr></table> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:550px; height:455px" src="images/img131b.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“The Band.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>The band must not be forgotten. “The music +arrives,” says the writer, “sometimes in the shape of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" id="page113"></a>113</span> +a single pianist of untiring fingers and unclosing +eyes; sometimes as a harp, piano, and cornopean, +who are immediately installed in a corner of the +room with two chairs, a music-stool, and a bottle of +marsala.”</p> + +<p>I ask my reader to note the individuality in the +four faces in this drawing—and in the figures no less +than in the heads—each a strongly-marked personality +precisely appropriate to the instrument upon +which he performs. How admirable is the cornet-a-piston +gentleman contrasted with the pianoforte +player!</p> + +<p>The mistress of the house is described as making +“uphill attempts at conversation” pending the +arrival of a sufficient number of guests to make +up a quadrille. Two old ladies, however, have +already put in an appearance, and have taken possession +of the best seats to “see the dancing,” from +which all attempts to move them to the card-room +are successfully resisted. There they sit, poor old +wallflowers! with all the advantage that “false hair +and turbans” can give them. Though the execution +of this drawing lacks the perfection of workmanship +of Leech’s later manner, he never surpassed it +in expression and character.</p> + +<p>The music “strikes up,” the lady of the house +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" id="page114"></a>114</span> +throws a comprehensive <i>coup d’œil</i> over her assembled +visitors, and at last pitches upon a tall young man—<i>whom +some of you may have met before</i>—with short +hair, spectacles, and turned-up wristbands, as if he +was about to wash his hands with his coat on. His +fate is sealed, and she advances towards him, blandly +exclaiming:</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:500px; height:593px" src="images/img133.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Wallflowers.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>“<i>Mr. Ledbury</i>, allow me to introduce you to a +partner.”</p> + +<p>My own readers have heard of Mr. Ledbury; +but as I think they are unacquainted with his personal +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" id="page115"></a>115</span> +appearance, I propose to introduce him to +them, and here he is—</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:308px; height:450px" src="images/img134.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Mr. Ledbury.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>Mr. Ledbury is “presented to a bouquet with a +young lady attached to it”—a Miss Hamilton—who +freezes him completely. A quadrille is formed. +Mr. Ledbury cudgels his brains for five minutes. +The young partner seems to be “searching after +some imaginary object amongst the petals of her +bouquet.” The mountainous Ledbury brain is in +labour. Behold the production!</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Mr. L.</span> ‘Have you been to many parties this +season?’</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Miss H.</span> ‘Not a great many.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" id="page116"></a>116</span></p> + +<p>Miss Hamilton continues the bouquet investigation. +The gentleman invents another sentence.</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Mr. L.</span> ‘What do you think of Alfred Tennyson?’</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Miss H.</span> ‘I am sorry to say I have not heard his +poetry. Have you?’</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:383px; height:500px" src="images/img135.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Mr. Ledbury and Miss Hamilton.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Mr. L.</span> ‘Oh yes! several times.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Ledbury waits to be asked about “Mariana” +and “Locksley Hall.” No inquiry, so he “rubs up +an idea upon another tack”:</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Mr. L.</span> ‘What do you think of our <i>vis-à-vis</i>?’</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Miss H.</span> ‘Which one?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" id="page117"></a>117</span></p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Mr. L.</span> ‘The lady with that strange head-dress. +Do you know her?’</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Miss H.</span> ‘It is Miss Brown—my cousin.’”</p> + +<p>Mr. Ledbury wishes he could fall through a trap +in the floor.</p> + +<p>The quadrille continues, with occasional attempts +on the part of the brilliant couple to make conversation. +The acme of imbecility seems to be reached +when the lady asks if Mr. L. plays any instrument? +He replies that he plays the flute a little. Does she +admire it?</p> + +<p>“Oh, so very much!” she says.</p> + +<p>A waltz is proposed, but that form of dancing is, +says our author, “never established without a prolonged +desire on the part of everybody to relinquish +the honour of commencing it. At last the example +is set by one daring pair, timidly followed by another +couple, and then by another, who get out of step at +the end of the first round, and after treading severely +upon the advanced toes of the old lady in a very +flowery cap and plum-coloured satin (one of our +faded wallflowers), who is sitting out at the top +of the room, and who from that instant deprecates +waltzing as an amusement not at all consistent with +her ideas of feminine decorum.”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:450px; height:656px" src="images/img137.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“The Waltz.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>The young lady in this drawing has much of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" id="page118"></a>118</span> +Leech’s charm; but I should scarcely have selected +it were it not for the figure of the gentleman, which +exactly resembles that of Leech himself as I first +knew him. If conservatories, or even staircases, +could speak, what flirtations they could chronicle, +what love-tales they could tell! Mr. Smith says +“you will have to confess your inability to imagine +what on earth the gentleman with the long hair, who +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" id="page119"></a>119</span> +is carefully balancing himself on one leg against the +flowerpot-stand, and the pretty girl with the bouquet, +can find to talk about so long, so earnestly.”</p> + +<p>I for one beg Mr. Albert Smith’s pardon. I can +easily imagine what they are talking about.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:500px; height:612px" src="images/img138.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“In the Conservatory.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>It would be a grave omission if “The Belle of the +Evening” were left out of these extracts from the +“Physiology of Evening Parties.” Let me present +her, then. Now listen to the flourish with which +the author introduces her:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" id="page120"></a>120</span></p> + +<p>“Room for beauty! The belle of the evening +claims our next attention, the lovely dark-eyed girl +so plainly yet so elegantly dressed, who wears her +hair in simple bands over her fair forehead, unencumbered +by flower or ornament of any kind, and +moves in the light of her own beauty as the presiding +goddess of the room, imparting fragrance to the +enamoured air that plays around her!”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:380px; height:630px" src="images/img139.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“The Belle of the Evening.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>Rather tall talk, this, but excusable, perhaps, as +applied to the lovely creature Leech has drawn for +us.</p> + +<p>I feel I cannot close these extracts more appropriately +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" id="page121"></a>121</span> +than by allowing Mr. Ledbury to appear again +at the moment of his departure from a scene in +which he has so distinguished himself by his conversational, +as well as by his terpsichorean, powers. +He was destined to be guilty of one more folly—that +of thinking he had but to ask for his hat to +get it.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:600px; height:505px" src="images/img140.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Mr. Ledbury’s Hat.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>“He walks downstairs,” says Mr. Smith, “under +the insane expectation of finding his own hat, or +madly deeming that the ticket pinned upon it corresponds +with the one in his waistcoat pocket.”</p> + +<p>Here I take my leave of “The Physiology of +Evening Parties” in presenting my reader with this +charming little drawing, in which one scarcely knows +which to admire most—the bewildered expression of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" id="page122"></a>122</span> +Mr. Ledbury as he ruefully contemplates the rim of +his hat, or the sympathetic, half-laughing face of the +perfect little maid. The artistic qualities of this +illustration are excellent. I say good-bye to +“Evening Parties” only to meet Mr. Albert Smith +again in a work by him called “Comic Tales and +Pictures of Life,” published, I think, about the time +of the “Evening Parties,” or perhaps earlier, for the +illustrations are, on the whole, inferior to those in the +latter production. The work under notice is composed +of a series of short stories, in which love, +comedy, and deep tragedy play alternate parts. +Leech’s attention is mainly devoted to the comic +scenes.</p> + +<p>We are told of a Mr. Percival Jenks, whose +frequent visits to the theatre have led to the loss +of his heart to a beauteous ballet-girl. “The third +ballet-girl from the left-hand stage-box, with the +golden belt and green wreath, in the Pas des Guirlandes, +or lyres, or umbrellas, or something of the +kind, had enslaved his susceptible affections.”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:325px; height:600px" src="images/img142.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">“Mr. Percival Jenks.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>No one knew who Mr. Jenks was, or what he +was. Even his landlady’s information about him +was confined to the idea that he was “something in +a house in the City.” That idea proved to be well +founded, for Mr. J. was discovered by the head-clerk +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" id="page123"></a>123</span> +at the house in the City, spoiling blotting-paper by +drawing little opera-dancers all over it; thus neglecting +his accounts, which he had to “stay two +hours after time to make up. At half price, nevertheless, +he was at the play again, his whole existence +centred on an airy compound of clear muslin and +white satin that was twirling about the stage.” +Mr. Jenks burned to know his enslaver’s name +with a view to an introduction; and for that purpose +he haunted the stage-door, but utterly failed to +recognise, amongst the faded cloaks, and drabby +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page124" id="page124"></a>124</span> +bonnets that issued from that portal, the angelic +form of his charmer. He then took to haunting +the places where minor actors and other employés +of the theatre most do congregate for the purpose of +social intercourse and refreshment; here at last he is +rewarded.</p> + +<p>“Do you know the young lady,” he says to a +habitué, “who dances in the ballet with a green +wreath round her head?”</p> + +<p>“And a gilt belt round her waist?” asked the +friend in turn. “Oh, it’s Miss—Miss—I shall forget +my own name next.”</p> + +<p>Percival was about to suggest Rosière, Céleste, +Amadée, and other pretty cognomens, when his +companion caught the name, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Miss Jukes; I thought I should recollect +it.”</p> + +<p>The name certainly was not what Percival had +expected; still, what was in a name? Jenks was +not poetical, and Jukes was something like it.</p> + +<p>“Could you favour me with an introduction to +her?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“In a minute, if you wish it,” replied his companion.</p> + +<p>“You know her intimately then?”</p> + +<p>“Very; I buy all my green-grocery of her.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page125" id="page125"></a>125</span></p> + +<p>The introduction takes place. Gracious powers! +how a minute broke the enchantment of many +weeks! “The nymph of the Danube was habited +in a faded green cloak and straw bonnet, with limp +and half-bleached pink ribbons clinging to its form. +Her pallid and almost doughy face was deeply +pitted with smallpox; her skin was rough from the +constant layers of red and white paint it had to +endure,” etc., etc. He fell back with a convulsive +start.</p> + +<p>From internal evidence I find the date of “Comic +Tales,” etc., to be 1841, contemporary, therefore, +with the establishment of <i>Punch</i>. There is a +drawing of so pretty a conceit as to warrant my +selecting it, though artistically it is inferior to Leech’s +work even at that time. The drawing heads a paper +entitled “Speculations on Marriage and Young +Ladies,” and as it tells its own story, quotation from +Mr. Smith is needless.</p> + +<p>In one amusing paper in “Comic Tales,” the author +treats us to “an Act for amending the representation +of certain public sights, termed equestrian spectacles, +in the habit of being represented at a favourite +place of resort, termed the Royal Amphitheatre, +Westminster Bridge.” The paper is framed in the +form of an Act of Parliament, and the author forbids +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page126" id="page126"></a>126</span> +the use of ancient jokes or stereotyped phrases in a +very humorous manner.</p> + +<p>“Be it enacted,” he announces, after condemning +a variety of objectionable practices, “that the clown +shall not, after the first equestrian feat, exclaim: +‘Now I’ll have a turn to myself!’ previous to his +toppling like a coach-wheel round the ring; nor +shall he fall flat on his face, and then collecting some +sawdust in his hand, drop it down from the level of +his head, and say his nose bleeds; nor shall he +attempt to make the rope-dancers’ balance-pole stand +on its end by propping it up with the said sawdust; +nor shall he, after chalking the performers’ shoes, +conclude by chalking his own nose, to prevent his +foot slipping when he treads upon it; nor shall he +pick up a small piece of straw, for fear he should fall +over it, and afterwards balance the said straw on +his chin as he runs about; neither shall the master +of the ring say to the clown, when they are leaving +the circus: ‘I never follow the fool, sir!’ nor shall the +fool reply: ‘Then I do!’ and walk out after him.”</p> + +<p>I would draw attention to the figure of the clown +in this cut, which is simply perfect in expression +and character. The affected strut of the ring-master +also is admirably caught.</p> + +<p>A paper on Christmas pantomimes is illustrated +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" id="page127"></a>127</span> +by such a perfect clown that I cannot resist my +inclination to present him to my readers.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:418px; height:600px" src="images/img146.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption"><span class="sc">Clown:</span> “Oh, see what I’ve found!”</td></tr></table> + +<p>“Comic Tales and Pictures of Life” contains, at +least, one drawing that is equal to Leech at his best. +The cut illustrates an article on “Delightful People,” +a short essay, amusing enough.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:600px; height:621px" src="images/img147.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Miss Cinthia Sings.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>Music, whether performed by the band or by +musical guests, is an important factor in an evening +party. Mr. Albert Smith tells us that “a lady of his +acquaintance” had secured those “Delightful People, +the Lawsons,” for a large evening party she was +about to give; and after lauding the charming qualities +of Mr. and Mrs. Lawson, she put a final touch +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" id="page128"></a>128</span> +to the Lawson attractions by informing her friend +that their daughter, Miss Cinthia Lawson, was not +only a delightful girl, but that “she sings better +than anyone you ever heard in private.” In the +interval of dancing Cinthia sings. “The young lady +now dressed in plain white robes, with her hair +smoothed very flat round her head <i>à la Grisi</i>, whom +she thought she resembled both in style of singing +and features, and consequently studied all her attitudes +from the clever Italian’s impersonation of +Norma.... At last the lady begun a <i>bravura</i> upon +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" id="page129"></a>129</span> +such a high note, and so powerful, that some impudent +fellows in the square, who were passing at the +moment, sang out ‘Vari-e-ty’ in reply. Presently, +a young gentleman, who was standing at her side, +chanced to turn over too soon, whereupon she gave +him <i>such</i> a look, that, if he had entertained any +thoughts of proposing, would effectually have stopped +any such rash proceeding; but her equanimity was +soon restored, and she went through the aria in +most dashing style until she came to the last note, +whose appearance she heralded with a <i>roulade</i> of +wonderful execution.”</p> + +<p>I remember Grisi, and I cannot share Miss Lawson’s +conviction of her resemblance to that great +singer—personal resemblance, I mean—and, in all +probability, she had as feeble a claim to an equality +of genius; but that she had a powerful voice, and +that she gave it full effect, is evident by Leech’s +perfect rendering of that wonderful mouth, from +which one can almost hear the <i>roulade</i>. All the +lines of the figure, with the movement of the hands, +and the backward action of the singer, are true to +Nature. The assistant at the music-book and the +stolid old gentleman are also excellent.</p> + +<p>With this, the best of the drawings in “Comic +Tales,” I take my leave of the book.</p> + +<div class="center art1"><img style="width:150px; height:35px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img001.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" id="page130"></a>130</span></p> + +<p class="chap2 center">CHAPTER VI.</p> + +<p class="center scs">JOHN LEECH AND THE ETON BOY.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc chap1">I had</span> been told that a friend whose acquaintance +I made many years ago was in possession of some +correspondence with Leech of considerable interest. +I wrote to him on the subject, and received the +following reply:</p> + +<p class="pt1 sc">“Dear Mr. Frith,</p> + +<p>    “I had intended waiting till my return to +town to see whether I could find John Leech’s +letters before writing to you; but as you ask for the +story, here it is, to the best of my recollection, and it +is heartily at your service. When I was a boy at +Eton I sent to <i>Punch</i> an incident which happened +at a dance. Young Oxford complaining to his +partner of the dearth of ‘female society’ at the University, +she retorts, ‘What a pity you didn’t go to a +girls’ school instead!’ Its appearance beneath an +illustration of Leech’s caused great excitement in our +house at Eton, and as great tales of Mr. Punch’s +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" id="page131"></a>131<br />132</span> +liberality were current—as, for example, that the +sender of the advice ‘To persons about to marry—<i>don’t</i>,’ +had received £100—I began to look anxiously +for some tip for my contribution. An enterprising +pal said, ‘It’s a beastly shame; and if you’ll go +halves, I’ll write to <i>Punch</i> and wake ’em up.’ This +speedily resulted in the receipt of a post-office order +for two guineas from John Leech, accompanied by +a rather dry note, to the effect that Mr. Punch considered +that he had already done enough in providing +an original illustration to my joke. I was indignant, +and wrote back to Leech returning the money, but +he would not hear of this. He told me I could buy +gloves with the money for the young lady if I liked—which +I am afraid I didn’t. Several kind letters +from him followed, with an invitation, gladly accepted, +to call and see him in the holidays, and a +present, which I still treasure, of two volumes of +his ‘Life and Character.’</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:520px; height:627px" src="images/img150.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">“Dreadful for Young Oxford.”</td></tr></table> + +<div class="condensed1"> +<p><span class="sc">Lady</span>: “Are you at Eton?”</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Young Oxford</span>: “Aw, no! I’m at Oxford.”</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lady</span>: “Oxford! Rather a nice place, is it not?”</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Young Oxford</span>: “Hum!—haw! pretty well; but then I can’t +get on without female society!”</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Lady</span>: “Dear! dear! pity you don’t go to a girls’ school, then!”</p> +</div> + +<p>“At the time I remember my schoolfellows considered +me a born caricaturist, an opinion I naturally +shared. Leech was most indulgent to my early +efforts—gave me some wood-blocks to work upon, +and encouraged me to persevere, which, alas! I +have not done, etc.</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Yours truly.”</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" id="page133"></a>133</span></p> + +<p>Here follows Leech’s “dry note”:</p> + +<p class="pt2 f80 rgt">“32, Brunswick Square, London,  <br /> +“June 6, 1859.</p> + +<p class="sc">“Dear Sir,</p> + +<p>    “The editor of <i>Punch</i> is the person who +should be addressed upon all money matters connected +with that periodical. However, in the present +instance, perhaps it will answer every purpose +if I adopt the suggestion of your ‘great <i>friend</i> and +<i>confidant</i>,’ and ‘<i>do the handsome</i> and send a <i>tip +direct</i>,’ which I do in the shape of a post-office order +for one guinea; or, as your ‘entirely <i>disinterested</i>’ +young friend is to have half of what you get, it will +be even better if I make the order for two guineas +instead, as I do, only you must not look upon this as +a precedent. I am afraid Mr. Punch would have +considered that the trouble and expense he was at +to have an original design made to your few lines +would have been ample recompense. In future send +to the editor your notion of what you expect for any +contribution, and he will accept or reject accordingly, +I dare say.</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt sc">“John Leech.”</p> + +<p class="pt2">The Eton boy was “indignant, and wrote back to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" id="page134"></a>134</span> +Leech returning the money,” to which Leech replied +as follows:</p> + +<p class="rgt f80">“32, Brunswick Square,  <br /> +“November 8, 1859.</p> + +<p class="sc">“Dear Sir,</p> + +<p>    “No, no; it must be as it is; besides, the +order is made out in your name, and can be used by +no one else. After all, your contribution was very +amusing, and pray consider yourself as quite entitled +to the sum offered. If you have any doubt as to +how you should spend the money, why, then, buy +some gloves for the young lady who said the smart +thing to the Oxford man. As to my being offended, +dismiss the notion from your mind at once. Your +first note I consider perfectly good-natured, and +your second as frank and gentleman-like. I hope +you will do me the favour to accept two volumes of +my sketches, in which I hope you will find some +amusement.</p> + +<p>“I will direct the volumes to be sent to you this +afternoon.</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“Believe me, dear sir,</p> +<p class="rgt1">“Yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt">“<span class="sc">John Leech</span>.”</p> + +<p class="pt2">Encouraged by Leech’s kindness, and being, as +he says, “a born caricaturist in the opinion of his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" id="page135"></a>135</span> +friends,” the Eton boy sent some sketches for +Leech’s opinion. To this application he received +the following reply:</p> + +<p class="rgt f80">“32, Brunswick Square,  <br /> +“June 11, 1859.</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">My dear Sir</span>,</p> + +<p>    “I am very busy, so you must excuse a +rather short note. Your sketches I have looked at +carefully, however, and I have no hesitation in saying +that they show a great perception of humour on +your part. They seem to me to be altogether very +good; and I have no doubt that with practice you +might make your talent available in <i>Punch</i> and elsewhere. +I don’t know about your taking lessons, +except from Nature, and learn from her as much as +possible. Try your hand at some initial letters—if +drawn on the wood clearly, so much the better—and +I will, with great pleasure, hand them to the editor +of <i>Punch</i>. ‘The Pleasures of Eton’ is capital; the +style, I take it, founded a little upon Doyle’s works. +I would not do that too much. You have quite +cleverness enough to strike out a path of your own, +and with my best wishes for your success,</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“Believe me,</p> +<p class="rgt1">“Yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt">“<span class="sc">John Leech</span>.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page136" id="page136"></a>136</span></p> + +<p class="pt2">In sending these letters the Eton boy of old says +he is “sure that nothing would more thoroughly +exemplify Leech’s genial wit and courteous kindliness +than these replies to an unknown schoolboy.” I +suppose the letter in which my friend was invited to +call upon Leech “in the holidays” is not to be +found. But that he did call and received a present +of “wood-blocks to work upon,” accompanied by +“encouragement to persevere,” which, alas! he has +not done, we have from himself.</p> + +<p>This incident is especially delightful, as it reflects +perfectly the quality of heart and mind so characteristic +of Leech.</p> + +<div class="center art1"><img style="width:150px; height:35px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img001.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page137" id="page137"></a>137</span></p> + +<p class="chap2 center">CHAPTER VII.</p> + +<p class="center scs">MR. SPONGE’S SPORTING TOUR.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc chap1">Mr. Surtees</span>, the writer of the sporting novels, +possessed considerable powers of invention, which +he indulged—amongst other vagaries—in giving +names to most of the characters in his books, which +served to enlighten his readers as to their physical +and mental peculiarities, and never more happily +than when he christened the hero of this sporting +tour Mr. Soapy Sponge. “Mr. Sponge,” says our +author, “wished to be a gentleman without knowing +how;” but what Mr. Sponge did know was how to +sponge upon everybody with whom he could force +an acquaintance, and this he effected with surprising +success. Hunting and good hunting +quarters were the objects of Mr. Sponge’s machinations, +and upon a half-hearted invitation from a +Mr. Jawleyford, of Jawleyford Court, an invitation +given without an idea that it would be accepted +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page138" id="page138"></a>138</span> +(as sometimes happens), Mr. Sponge found himself +installed in the ancestral mansion of the Jawleyfords. +Mr. Jawleyford was “one of the rather numerous +race of paper-booted, pen-and-ink landowners,” says +Mr. Surtees, “whose communications with his +tenantry were chiefly confined to dining with them +twice a year in the great entrance-hall after the +steward, <i>Mr. Screwemtight</i>, had eased them of their +rents.” Then Mr. Jawleyford would shine forth the +very impersonification of what a landlord ought to +be. Dressed in the height of fashion, he would +declare that the only really happy moments of his +life were those when he was surrounded by his +tenantry.</p> + +<p>In the background of this admirable drawing we +see Mr. Jawleyford’s portrait, flanked by his ancestors, +on canvas and in armour, hanging on the panelled +walls of his gorgeous home. The variety of character +in the “chawbacons,” each a marked individuality, +contrasts effectually with his <i>quasi</i> fashionable landlord. +For the first banquet at Jawleyford Court, +“Mr. Sponge,” says the author, “made himself an +uncommon swell.” His dress is minutely described, +and faithfully depicted by Leech, in the etching in +which we see the sponger conducting a very portly +Mrs. Jawleyford, followed by her daughters, to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" id="page139"></a>139</span> +dining-room. The young ladies who have entered +the drawing-room “in the full fervour of sisterly +animosity,” according to the author, seem—in the +lovely group that Leech makes of them—to have +speedily made up their quarrel, as their entwined +arms and pretty, happy faces prove. The solemn +butler, who looks with awe at his aristocratic master, +is in Leech’s truest vein, while Mr. Jawleyford himself +is simply perfect. In the footmen and page the +illustration is less successful; they seem to approach, +if not to reach, caricature.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Sponge found himself in good quarters, +no hint however strong, no looks however cold, no +manner however unpleasant, would move him, until +he had provided himself with others to his liking. +Under the impression that he was rich, the Misses +Jawleyford set their caps at him. Amelia and Emily +rivalled each other in tender attentions to the +adventurer, who, after hesitating as to which of them +he should throw the handkerchief to, fixed upon Miss +Amelia, who found her sister “in the act of playing +the agreeable” with Mr. Sponge as she “sailed” +into the drawing-room before dinner; then, “with a +haughty sort of sneer and toss of the head to her +sister, as much as to say, ‘What are you doing with +my man?’—a sneer that suddenly changed into a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page140" id="page140"></a>140</span> +sweet smile as her eye encountered Sponge’s—she just +motioned him off to a sofa, where she commenced +a <i>sotto-voce</i> conversation in the engaged-couple +style.”</p> + +<p>During his stay at Jawleyford Court, Mr. Sponge’s +time was passed in hunting, smoking all over the +house—a habit the owner detested—and in making +love to Miss Amelia; taking care, however, not to +commit himself until he had discovered from papa +what the settlements were to be. We who are +behind the scenes know that Jawleyford Court is +“mortgaged up to the chimney-pots,” and that Mr. J. +is over head and ears in debt besides. We know +also that Mr. Sponge is impecunious, his hunters +are hired; he is, in fact, as his author describes him, +“a vulgar humbug.” “Jawleyford began to suspect +that Sponge might not be the great ‘catch’ he was +represented,” says the author. No doubt in finding +himself baffled in his attempts to sound his host +upon the subject of settlements, Mr. Sponge also +“began to suspect” that neither of the Misses +Jawleyford would be the “catch” that he wanted. +Still, he held on to his quarters in defiance of the +attempts to get rid of him. He was removed from +the best bedroom to one in which it was impossible +to light a fire, or, rather, to endure it when it was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" id="page141"></a>141</span> +alight, because of an incurable smoky chimney. He +was given poor food and corked wine, still he stayed, +until he had provided himself with a temporary +home at the house of a hunting gentleman named +Puffington.</p> + +<p>Mr. Puffington, who made Sponge’s acquaintance +at the covert-side where Lord Scamperdale’s hounds +met, “got it into his head” that Mr. Sponge was a +literary man, whose brilliant pen was about to be +employed in the interest of fox-hunting in general, +and of certain runs of Mr. Puffington’s hounds in +particular. Mr. Puffington “was the son of a great +starch-maker at Stepney.” Puffington, senior, made +a large fortune, which enabled his son to become +the owner of Hanby House, and of the “Mangeysterne—now +Hanby-Hounds,” because he thought +they would give him consequence. Our author +says, Mr. Puffington “had no natural inclination for +hunting,” but he seems to have become M.F.H. so +that he might entertain some of the sporting friends +he had made at college, such “dashing young sparks +as Lord Firebrand, Lord Mudlark, Lord Deuceace, +Sir Harry Blueun, Lord Legbail, now Earl of +Loosefish,” and so on.</p> + +<p>My space, or, rather, the want of it, prevents my +telling how it was that Mr. Sponge “awoke and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" id="page142"></a>142</span> +found himself famous” as an author. In conjunction +with a friend, who steered him through the +spelling and grammar, he concocted an article for +the <i>Swillingford Patriot</i>—Grimes, editor—which +“appeared in the middle of the third sheet, and +was headed, ‘Splendid Run with Mr. Puffington’s +Hounds.’” Mr. Grimes was ably assisted in his +editorial duties by “his eldest daughter, Lucy—a +young lady of a certain age, say liberal thirty—an +ardent Bloomer, with a considerable taste for sentimental +poetry, with which she generally filled the +Poet’s Corner.”</p> + +<p>As Mr. Puffington quite expected to be immortalized +in some work of general circulation, his +indignation knew no bounds when he found himself +relegated to a corner of the county paper, +and all his hopes of his doings being read by “the +Lords Loosefish, the Sir Toms and Sir Harrys of +former days” grievously disappointed. Never, +surely, were disgust, disappointment, and rage more +perfectly expressed than in the second portrait of +Mr. Puffington: not only the face, but the whole +figure—one can fancy how the hand in the pocket +of the dressing-gown is clenched—denotes the +surprise and exasperation of the miserable man.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sponge’s literary effort has “done for him” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page143" id="page143"></a>143</span> +with Mr. Puffington. He must go. Easier said +than done.</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t you manage to get him to go?” asked +Mr. Puffington of his valet.</p> + +<p>“Don’t know, sir. I could try, sir—believe he’s +bad to move, sir,” said the valet.</p> + +<p>Driven to despair, the host “scrawled a miserable-looking +note, explaining how very ill he was, +how he regretted being deprived of Mr. Sponge’s +agreeable society—hoped he would come another +time,” and so on. Even the “sponger” felt the +difficulty of parrying such a palpable notice to quit. +“He went to bed sorely perplexed,” and in his +waking moments trying to remember “what sportsmen +had held out the hand of good fellowship and +hinted at hoping to have the pleasure of seeing +him”; he could think of no one to whom he could +volunteer a visit. But Fortune favours the brave +sponger, as she often does unworthy people, and +in Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey, an eccentric individual +whose acquaintance Sponge had made in the +hunting-field, he found another host. At the suggestion +of Mrs. Jogglebury, who, without the +slightest reason, had taken it into her head that +Mr. Sponge was a wealthy man, and would make +a satisfactory godfather to one of her children, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page144" id="page144"></a>144</span> +Mr. Jogglebury called on Mr. Sponge at the Puffington +mansion, and invited him to “pay us a +visit.”</p> + +<p>No sooner does our hero grasp the situation than +he says:</p> + +<p>“Well, you’re a devilish good fellow, and I’ll tell +you what, as I am sure you mean what you say, +I’ll take you at your word and go at once.”</p> + +<p>And in this determination he persists, though +Mr. J. pleads for some delay, as Mrs. Jogglebury +Crowdey requires some little time for preparation +in receiving so distinguished a guest.</p> + +<p>The visit to Puddingpote Bower, as the Jogglebury +dwelling was called, proved as unfortunate as +the previous visits; the more people saw of Mr. +Sponge the less they liked him, and this time the +dislike was mutual. “Jog and Sponge,” says the +author, “were soon most heartily sick of each +other.” Mr. Sponge soon began to think that it +was not worth while staying at Puddingpote Bower +for the mere sake of his keep, “seeing there was +no hunting to be had from it.”</p> + +<p>Within twelve or thirteen miles from the Bower +there lived Sir Harry Scattercash, a very fast young +gentleman indeed. He kept “an ill-supported +pack of hounds, that were not kept upon any fixed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page145" id="page145"></a>145</span> +principles; their management was only of the +scrimmaging order,” but Mr. Sponge, scenting an +invitation, determined to make one amongst the +field.</p> + +<p>In his attempt to “go it,” my lord “was ably +assisted by Lady Scattercash, late the lovely and +elegant Miss Glitters, of the Theatre Royal, Sadler’s +Wells. Lady Scattercash could ride—indeed, she +used to do scenes in the circle (two horses and a +flag), and she could drive, and smoke, and sing, and +was possessed of many other accomplishments.”</p> + +<p>What a winning creature Leech has made of +her, and the scarcely less delightful little tiger +behind her, may be seen in the illustration which +the law of copyright prevents me from introducing, +as it also prohibits the appearance here of Sir Harry, +her husband, the happy possessor of the charming +Lady Scattercash.</p> + +<p>“Sometimes,” says the author of “Sponge,” +“Sir Harry would drink straight on end for a +week!” Mr. Sponge made desperate efforts to +take up his abode at Nonsuch House, but Sir +Harry was surrounded by congenial spirits, who, +one and all, had taken prejudice against that +worthy; so, beyond a hunting dinner, at which +everybody, including the ladies, took more wine +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page146" id="page146"></a>146</span> +than was good for them, Mr. Sponge and Nonsuch +House were strangers to each other for a time. +But, as the hunting-field is open to all and sundry, +Mr. Sponge, not easily daunted, put in a frequent +appearance, in the sure and certain hope that +admission to free quarters at Sir Harry’s was only +delayed. Beyond what is elegantly called “peck +and perch,” Nonsuch House contained a very +powerful attraction in the form of Miss Lucy +Glitters, sister to Lady Scattercash. Miss Lucy +was a lovely person, and her charms were increased +in Mr. Sponge’s eyes because he persuaded himself +that the sister-in-law of a baronet must necessarily +be a rich woman. Miss Lucy had also the conviction +that Mr. Sponge was a rich man; how else +could he spend his time in the sports of the field, +with all their expensive accompaniments? Miss +Glitters was a bold rider, and that accomplishment +also endeared her to the gentleman in whom the +passion of love burned suddenly, and with a very +furious flame indeed; till on one fateful hunting +day the amorous couple found themselves “in at +the death”: they had distanced the field, they were +alone. Mr. Sponge secured the brush, and said:</p> + +<p>“We’ll put this in your hat, alongside the cock’s +feathers.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page147" id="page147"></a>147</span></p> + +<p>I now quote my author: “The fair lady leant +towards him, and as he adjusted it becomingly +in her hat, looking at her bewitching eyes, her +lovely face, and feeling the sweet fragrance of her +breath, a something shot through Mr. Sponge’s +pull-devil pull-baker coat, his corduroy waistcoat, +his Eureka shirt, angola vest, and penetrated to +the very cockles of his heart. He gave her such a +series of smacking kisses as startled her horse and +astonished a poacher who happened to be hid in +the adjoining hedge.”</p> + +<p>On the return of the happy pair Lucy rushes to +her sister with the good news. Lady Scattercash +was delighted, because “Mr. Sponge was such a +nice man, <i>and so rich</i>! She was sure he was rich—couldn’t +hunt if he wasn’t. Would advise Lucy to +have a good settlement, in case he broke his neck.” +On further inquiry, however, her ladyship had good +reason to suspect that a red coat and two or three +hunters were not satisfactory proofs of wealth; and +in reply to one who knew, she retorted, “Well, +never mind, if he has nothing, she has nothing, and +nothing can be nicer.” With the conviction that +nothing could be nicer, “Lady Scattercash warmly +espoused Mr. Sponge’s cause,” the consequence being +his instalment in splendid quarters at Nonsuch +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page148" id="page148"></a>148</span> +House, where he made himself thoroughly at home. +“It was very soon ‘my hounds,’ ‘my horses,’ and +‘my whips,’ etc., being untroubled by his total +inability to keep the angel who had ridden herself +into his affections, for he made no doubt that something +would turn up.” If it were not for the introduction +of a delightful drawing by Leech, I should +take no note of a “Steeplechase,” in which +Mr. Sponge comes before us for the last time. +This function is not a favourite with Mr. Surtees, +nor is it looked upon without much anxiety by +Miss Lucy. “She has made Mr. Sponge a white +silk jacket to ride in, and a cap of the same colour. +Altogether, he is a great swell, and very like a +bridegroom,” says the author.</p> + +<div class="center"><img style="width:600px; height:526px" src="images/img168.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p>If this drawing suffered in the hands of the wood-engraver, +it must have been beyond imagination +beautiful, for, as it is, it shows us Leech in his full +strength. Nothing, it seems to me, could surpass +the figure of Lucy, whose expression of loving fear +for the safety of the bold Sponge is shown to us in +one of the prettiest faces conceivable. Sponge +himself is no less successfully rendered as he smiles +reassuringly at his beloved. The race—admirably +described by the author—is run, and won by +Mr. Sponge. “And now for the hero and heroine +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page149" id="page149"></a>149</span> +of our tale. The Sponges—for our friend married +Lucy shortly after the steeplechase—stayed at +Nonsuch House till the bailiffs walked in. Sir +Harry then bolted to Boulogne, where he afterwards +died. Being at length starved out of Nonsuch +House,” says the historian, “he—Sponge—arrived +at his old quarters, the Bantam, in Bond Street, +where he turned his attention very seriously to +providing for Lucy and the little Sponge, who had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page150" id="page150"></a>150</span> +now issued its prospectus. He thought over all the +ways and means of making money without capital.... +Professional steeplechasing Lucy decried, +declaring she would rather return to her flag +exercises at Astley’s as soon as she was able than +have her dear Sponge risking his neck that way. Our +friend at length began to fear fortune-making was +not so easy as he thought; indeed he was soon sure +of it.” Something had to be done; “accordingly, +after due consultation with Lucy, he invested his all +in fitting up and decorating the splendid establishment +in Jermyn Street, St. James’s, now known as +the <span class="sc">Sponge Cigar and Betting Rooms</span>, where noblemen, +gentlemen, and officers in the Household troops +may be accommodated with loans on their personal +security to any amount.” We see by Mr. Sponge’s +last advertisement that he has £116,000 to lend +at 3½ per cent.</p> + +<div class="center art1"><img style="width:150px; height:35px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img001.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page151" id="page151"></a>151</span></p> + +<p class="chap2 center">CHAPTER VIII.</p> + +<p class="center scs">“THE MARCHIONESS OF BRINVILLIERS,” +BY ALBERT SMITH.</p> + +<p class="rgt f80">“December 20, 1844.</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Sir,</p> + +<p>    “Here we are at the 20th of the month, +and I have only four pages of Smith’s new story—no +incident. Really, it is too much to expect that +I can throw myself at a moment’s notice into the +seventeenth century, with all its difficulties of +costume, etc., etc. What am I to do? There is a +great want of system somewhere. I received a note +from Mr. Marsh last night, stating for the first time +that there would be <i>two</i> illustrations to ‘The Marchioness +of Brinvilliers,’ and also urging me to be +very early with the plates, it being Christmas and +all that! But, as I said before, I have not the +matter to illustrate. <i>What am I to do?</i> Added to +all this, I must be engaged one day in the early part +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page152" id="page152"></a>152</span> +of next week on the melancholy occasion of the +funeral of a poor little sister of mine. Pray, my +dear sir, do what you can to expedite matters, and</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“Believe me,</p> +<p class="rgt1">“Yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt">“<span class="sc">John Leech.</span></p> + +<p class="f80">“—— <span class="sc">Morgan, Esq.</span>”</p> + +<p class="pt2">The above is one of the many letters that might +be quoted to show the aggravating delays and difficulties +under which so much of Leech’s work was +produced. I take Mr. Morgan to have been one of +the officials of Mr. Richard Bentley’s establishment, +whose patience must have been sorely tried again +and again by the pranks of that <i>genus irritabile</i>, +the writer. Judging from the humorous character +of Albert Smith’s “Ledbury” and other works, one +is hardly prepared for the horrors that make us +shudder over the pages of “The Marchioness of +Brinvilliers”—horrors in which the writer seems to +revel with a zest as keen as that he takes in the +fun and frolic of Ledbury.</p> + +<p>The “shilling shocker” of the present day is a +mild production indeed, in comparison with the +history of the poisoner and adulteress, Brinvilliers, +in which “on horror’s head horrors accumulate.” +The authors of the modern productions are, for the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page153" id="page153"></a>153</span> +most part, inventors of the blood-and-murder scenes +that adorn their books. Not so Mr. Albert Smith, +whose pages describe but too truly the career of the +most notorious of the many criminals that flourished +in the most profligate period of French history. +Louis XIV. set an example in debauchery to his +subjects which the highest of them eagerly followed; +but the most fearful factor of this terrible time was +poison, by which the possessors of estates who +“lagged superfluous on the scene” were made to +give place to greedy heirs; husbands, inconveniently +in the way, were put out of it by their wives, whose +affections had been disposed of elsewhere; state +officers, whose positions were desired by aspirants +unwilling to wait for them, were struck by sudden +and mysterious illness, speedily followed by death, +for which the faculty of the time could in no way +account.</p> + +<p>Marie, Marchioness of Brinvilliers, lived with her +husband in the Rue des Cordeliers in Paris. The +Marquis was a man of easy morals, and the Marchioness +was a woman of still easier morals, for she +had many lovers; she also amused her leisure hours +by the study of the nature and properties of a great +variety of deadly poisons; thinking, no doubt, as she +was of a jealous disposition, that the time might +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page154" id="page154"></a>154</span> +arrive when her knowledge would be useful in +depriving her lover of the temptation which had +led him to forget his duty to her. The Marchioness +was a very beautiful woman; she had eyes of a +tender blue; her complexion was of dazzling whiteness, +with cheeks of a delicate carnation; her expression +was angelic, and she wore her hair of +pale gold in bushy ringlets, in obedience to the +fashion of the time. We first become acquainted +with the Marchioness under painful circumstances, +for she made—and kept—an appointment with one +lover without being sufficiently careful to disguise +her doings from another. That other was the +Chevalier Gaudin de Sainte-Croix, who proceeded +to the lodgings of his rival, M. Camille Theria.</p> + +<p>“‘The Marchioness of Brinvilliers is here, I +believe,’ said Gaudin to the grisette at the door. +‘Will you tell her she is wanted on pressing +business?’</p> + +<p>“The Marchioness appeared. A stifled scream +of fear and surprise, yet sufficiently intense to show +her emotion at the sight of Gaudin, broke from her +lips as she recognised him. But she immediately +recovered her impassibility of features—that wonderful +calmness and innocent expression which afterwards +was so severely put to the proof without +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page155" id="page155"></a>155</span> +being shaken—and she asked, with apparent unconcern:</p> + +<p>“‘Well, monsieur, what do you want with me?’</p> + +<p>“‘Marie!’ exclaimed Gaudin, ‘let me ask your +business here at this hour’ (it was rather late) +‘unattended, and in the apartment of a scholar of the +Hôtel Dieu?’</p> + +<p>“‘You are mad, Sainte-Croix,’ said the Marchioness. +‘Am I to be accountable to you for all +my actions? M. Theria is not here, and I came to +see his wife on my own affairs.’</p> + +<p>“‘Liar!’ cried Gaudin.”</p> + +<p>The lady had not told the truth, for M. Theria +had no wife, and he was so near by that he heard +the angry voice of M. Sainte-Croix, who so convinced +the Marchioness of her perfidy that “in an +instant the accustomed firmness of the Marchioness +deserted her, and she fell upon her knees at his feet +on the cold, damp floor of the landing.”</p> + +<p>In this powerful etching nothing could surpass the +beauty of the face and figure of the Marchioness; +she exactly realizes our ideal. But the Chevalier, +though full of passion, is, to my mind, verging on the +theatrical.</p> + +<p>Finding that her entreaties to the Chevalier to +“go away” have no effect, she threatens suicide.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page156" id="page156"></a>156</span></p> + +<p>“There is but one resource left,” she says, +as she “springs up from her position of supplication.”</p> + +<p>“Where are you going?” asked Sainte-Croix, as +she rushed to the top of the flight of stairs.</p> + +<p>“Hinder me not!” returned Marie. “To the +river!”</p> + +<p>But before she could reach the river—to which +she would no doubt have given a very wide berth—she +fainted, or pretended to faint, in the courtyard at +the bottom of the staircase. Here the pair were +overtaken by M. Theria.</p> + +<p>“A few hot and hurried words passed on either +side, and the next instant their swords were drawn +and crossed. The fight was short, and ended in +Sainte-Croix thrusting his rapier completely through +the fleshy part of the sword-arm of the student, +whose weapon fell to the ground.</p> + +<p>“‘I have it!’ cried Camille. ‘A peace, monsieur! +I have it!’ he continued, smiling, as he felt that his +wound, though slight, was too serious to have been +received in so unworthy a cause.</p> + +<p>“As he was speaking, Marie opened her eyes +and looked around. But the instant she saw the +two rivals, she shuddered convulsively, and again +relapsed into insensibility.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" id="page157"></a>157</span></p> + +<p>“‘She is a clever actress,’ continued Camille, +smiling.</p> + +<p>“‘We have each been duped,’ answered Gaudin.</p> + +<p>“‘She will play me no longer. As far as I am +concerned,’ said Theria, ‘you are welcome to all her +affections, and I shall reckon you as one of my best +friends for your visit this evening.’”</p> + +<p>The visit was destined to have an unexpected +end, however, for the attention of the Guet Royal, +or night-guard, had been called to the clashing of +swords.</p> + +<p>“Some young men, who had come up with the +guard as they were returning from their orgies, +pressed forward with curiosity to ascertain the cause +of the tumult. But from one of them a fearful cry of +surprise was heard as he recognised the persons +before him. Sainte-Croix raised his eyes, and found +himself face to face with Antoine, Marquis of Brinvilliers!”</p> + +<p>The late combatants threw dust in the eyes of the +lady’s husband cleverly enough by pretending that +Sainte-Croix had rescued her from the unwelcome +attentions of Theria, who had mistaken her in the +uncertain light for a lady with whom he had an +appointment. The cloak which the Marchioness +wore, together with the darkness of the night, had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page158" id="page158"></a>158</span> +prevented his discovering that she was not the +person he expected until her cries had brought in +Sainte-Croix, who was passing, as he said himself, +“to his lodgings in the Rue des Bernardins.”</p> + +<p>The lady went home with her husband, and +Sainte-Croix retired to his lodgings, there to meditate +on the perfidy of his mistress. The Chevalier +de Sainte-Croix was even more learned in poisons, +and less scrupulous in the use of them, than his +mistress; and in his first gusts of passion, on discovering +her treachery, he was inclined—in the hate +of her that took temporary possession of him—to +subject her to their effect; but reflection produced +demoniacal results. She should be spared to kill +those who ought to be near and dear to her!</p> + +<p>“‘I will be her bane—her curse!’ he exclaimed. +‘I will be her bad angel!... And I will triumph +over that besotted fool, her husband,’ etc.</p> + +<p>“He opened a small, iron-clamped box, and +brought from it a small packet, carefully sealed, and +a phial of clear, colourless fluid.</p> + +<p>“‘I have it! It is here—the source, not of life, +but of death!’</p> + +<p>“Almost as he speaks, he is summoned by the +<i>femme de chambre</i> of the Marchioness to an interview +at her residence at her father’s house, the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page159" id="page159"></a>159</span> +Hôtel d’Aubray. The Chevalier found the enchantress +in studied disarray. She might have +been made up after one of Guido’s Magdalens,” +says the author, “so beautiful were her rounded +shoulders, so dishevelled her light hair,” etc.</p> + +<p>The lovers were speedily reconciled, but the lady +had an important communication to make—no less +than the discovery of their intimacy by her husband, +whom she felt sure had revealed the fact to her +father, M. d’Aubray. A long pause, broken by +Sainte-Croix:</p> + +<p>“‘Marie,’ he said, ‘they must die, or our happiness +is impossible.’”</p> + +<p>The Marchioness was not yet hardened enough +to receive this announcement with equanimity; and +the lovers were still discussing the <i>pros</i> and <i>cons</i> of +it, when they were surprised by Monsieur d’Aubray, +who, entering by a secret door, “stood looking on +the scene before him.” Any doubts of guilty +intimacy, if he had any, were dispelled; and, after +ordering his daughter to her chamber, he turned to +Sainte-Croix, and said:</p> + +<p>“‘Monsieur de Sainte-Croix, I will provide you +with a lodging where you will run no risk of compromising +the honour of a noble family.’”</p> + +<p>And so saying, he produced a <i>lettre de cachet</i>, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page160" id="page160"></a>160</span> +armed with which the exempts, who were waiting +for him, speedily deposited M. de Sainte-Croix at +the Bastille. The Marchioness, separated from her +children and her husband, was exiled to Offremont, +a family place some distance from Paris. Here she +lived with her father, who so entirely believed in her +repentance and determination to lead a new life that +he proposed a speedy return to Paris.</p> + +<p>“‘I have no wish to go, <i>mon père</i>,’ replied the +hypocrite; ‘I would sooner remain here with you—for +ever!’”</p> + +<p>After much talk and reiterated professions of +sorrow for the past, the Marchioness says, in reply +to her father’s order that “she shall never speak to +Sainte-Croix—who had been released from the Bastille—or +recognise him again:</p> + +<p>“‘You shall be obeyed, monsieur—too willingly.’”</p> + +<p>The words had not long left her lips when she +placed a lamp in the window of the room, to guide +her lover to a prearranged assignation.</p> + +<p>The awful interview that followed is described in +Mr. Smith’s book.</p> + +<p>The greater villain ran the risk of interruption in +his lengthened arguments in favour of parricide; but +hearing approaching footsteps, Sainte-Croix hurried +away.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page161" id="page161"></a>161</span></p> + +<div class="center ptb2"><img style="width:630px; height:815px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img180.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p>M. d’Aubray had gone to bed. A servant +suggested the night-drink.</p> + +<p>“‘I will give it to him myself, Jervais,’ said the +Marchioness.”</p> + +<p>Taking a jug from the man, she poured the contents +into an old cup of thin silver; then, “with a +hurried glance round the room, she broke the seals +of the packet Sainte-Croix had left in her hands, and +shook a few grains of its contents into the beverage. +No change was visible; a few bubbles rose and +broke upon the surface, but this was all.”</p> + +<p>Sleep had surprised M. d’Aubray. His daughter +touched him lightly, and he “awoke with the exclamation +of surprise attendant upon being suddenly +disturbed from sleep.</p> + +<p>“‘I have brought your wine, <i>mon père</i>,’ said the +murderess.</p> + +<p>“‘Thanks, thanks, my good girl,’ said the old +man, as he raised himself up in bed, and took the +cup from the Marchioness. He drank off the +contents, and then, once more bestowing a benediction +upon his daughter, turned again to his +pillow.”</p> + +<p>Let those who desire to see how beauty can be +retained, though disfigured by devilish passion, +study the face of the Marchioness in this drawing. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page162" id="page162"></a>162</span> +For skilful arrangement of light and shade, and of +the objects that go to make up the <i>mise en scène</i>, +and for natural action in the figures; this drawing +takes the lead of all the admirable illustrations in +the “Marchioness of Brinvilliers.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page163" id="page163"></a>163</span></p> + +<div class="center art1"><img style="width:150px; height:35px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img001.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="chap2 center">CHAPTER IX.</p> + +<p class="center">“<span class="scs">THE MARCHIONESS OF BRINVILLIERS</span>” (<i>continued</i>).</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc chap1">A great</span> reception was given at Versailles by the +King. M. d’Aubray was “suffering from a sudden +and fearful indisposition, but he insisted upon his +daughter accepting an invitation, were it only to +establish her <i>entrée</i> into society.”</p> + +<p>There, amongst the trees in the gardens, the +Marchioness encounters Sainte-Croix. “His face +looked ghastly in the moonbeams, and his eyes +gleamed with a light that conscience made demoniac +in the eyes of the Marchioness.”</p> + +<p>“‘You here!’ she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“‘Where should I be but in the place of rejoicing +just now?’ replied Gaudin through his set teeth, and +with a sardonic smile. ‘I am this moment from +Paris. We are free!’</p> + +<p>“‘My father?’ cried the Marchioness, as a terrible +expression overspread her countenance.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page164" id="page164"></a>164</span></p> + +<p>“‘He is dead,’ returned Sainte-Croix, ‘and we +are free!’”</p> + +<p>There was a pause, and they looked at each other +for nearly a minute.</p> + +<p>“‘Come,’ at length said the Marchioness, ‘come +to the ball.’”</p> + +<p>A prominent and very interesting figure in Mr. +Smith’s book is Louise Gauthier, a girl of comparatively +humble birth, who had the misfortune to love +Sainte-Croix with the intense self-sacrificing love +that good women so often show for bad men, who +return their affection with coldness and neglect. +This girl, who had become the friend of Marotte +Dupré, one of the actresses in the plays of Molière +which were part of the attraction at the Versailles +fête, accompanied the actress to Versailles, where +she accidentally overheard a conversation between +the Marchioness of Brinvilliers and M. de Sainte-Croix, +which not only convinced her that the love +for her that Sainte-Croix had once professed was +given to another, but that some fearful tie existed +between the two, caused by actions which had +destroyed their happiness here and their hopes of it +hereafter.</p> + +<p>She came from her concealment, and was received +with jealous fury by the Marchioness, who +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" id="page165"></a>165</span> +believed, or affected to believe, that the girl was +at “the grotto” by appointment with Sainte-Croix. +She bestowed what is commonly called “a +piece of her mind” upon her lover, and concluded +her rhapsody by informing him that from henceforth +“we meet no more.” Louise, however, convinced +the passionate Marchioness that she had made no +appointment, but was at “the grotto” by, “perhaps, +a dispensation of Providence,” in order that she +might, having overheard their guilty conversation, +so act upon their consciences as to “save them +both.”</p> + +<p>The first result of her good intentions is a declaration +to the Marchioness by Sainte-Croix that, +though there had been some love-passages between +him and the girl, they were “madness, infatuation—call +it what name you will; but you are the only one +I ever loved.” Thus the ruffian speaks in the +presence of the woman he had betrayed; but her +love, though crushed, still urges her to become the +man’s good angel, and, seizing his arm, she cries:</p> + +<p>“‘Hear me, Gaudin. By the recollection of what +we once were to each other—although you scorn me +now, and the shadowy remembrance of old times—before +these terrible circumstances, whatever they +may be, had thus turned your heart from me and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page166" id="page166"></a>166</span> +from your God, there is still time to make amends +for all that has occurred. I do not speak for myself, +for all those feelings have passed, but for you alone. +Repent and be happy, for happy now you are not!’”</p> + +<p>“Gaudin made no reply, but his bosom heaved +rapidly, betraying his emotion.</p> + +<p>“‘This is idle talk,’ said the Marchioness.... +‘Will you not come with me, Gaudin?’</p> + +<p>“‘Marie!’ cried Gaudin faintly, ‘take me where +you list. In life or after it, on earth or in hell, I am +yours—yours only!’</p> + +<p>“A flush of triumph passed over her face as she +led Sainte-Croix from the grotto,” etc.</p> + +<p>By the death of her father the Marchioness hoped, +not only to have freed herself and her lover from an +ever-recurring obstacle to their intercourse, but also +to have inherited a much-needed sum of money—no +less than “one hundred and fifty thousand livres +were to have been the legacy to his daughter, +Madame de Brinvilliers—and, what was more, her +absolute freedom to act as she pleased. The money +had passed to her brothers, in trust for her, and she +was left entirely under their surveillance.</p> + +<p>“‘This must be altered,’ said the Chevalier Sainte-Croix +in an interview with the <i>alter ego</i> of an Italian +vendor of poisons named Exili.’”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page167" id="page167"></a>167</span></p> + +<p>This man undertakes the “alteration,” or, in +other words, the murder, of the two brothers for a +“consideration” in the form of “one-fifth of whatever +may fall to the Marchioness thereupon.</p> + +<p>“‘Of course, there is a barrier between the +brothers of Madame de Brinvilliers and myself,’ said +Sainte-Croix to his accomplice, ‘that must for ever +prevent our meeting. I will provide the means, and +you their application.’”</p> + +<p>Sainte-Croix had the right to claim the merit of +this scheme for enriching the Marchioness, and at +the same time relieving her from a guardianship that +was impenetrable by her lover. The murder of her +brothers seemed a trifling affair after the poisoning +of her father, and she readily consented to assist in +procuring a situation for the poisoner’s assistant—a +man named Lechaussée—in the household of her +brothers, who happened, very fortunately, to be in +want of a servant at the moment. How this wretch +administered the poison to the two brothers, who +died instantly from its effect, the curious reader may +ascertain—together with the other dramatic particulars—by +consulting Mr. Albert Smith’s book, in +which the incidents are told with great force and +skill.</p> + +<p>By eavesdropping in somewhat improbable places—notably +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page168" id="page168"></a>168</span> +at a grand fête at the Hôtel de Cluny, +given by the Marquis de Lauzan, the Italian poisoner +Exili becomes master of the guilty pair’s secrets. +The Marchioness’s jealousy had been aroused during +the evening by Sainte-Croix’s attention to an actress; +and she left the great <i>salon</i>, and retired with her +friend to a cabinet, in which, after the usual denial +and reconciliation, secure, as they thought, from +interruption, they discussed their demoniacal schemes. +As they were about to pass from the room, “a +portion of a large bookcase, masking a door, was +thrown open, and Exili stood before them.”</p> + +<p>The somewhat theatrical character that Leech +gives to the figure of Sainte-Croix is much less +apparent in this powerful drawing; and in the figures +of Exili and the Marchioness there is not a trace of +it. Though the Brinvilliers is masked according to +a habit of the time, we feel that the mask conceals a +beautiful face, distorted by fear, no doubt, but still +lovely. The Italian is altogether excellent.</p> + +<p>Exili loses no time in turning his information to +account, and in reply to Sainte-Croix, who asks him +what he wants, he replies that his trade as a sorcerer +is failing, and as a poisoner he is in “a yet worse +position, thanks to the Lieutenant of Police, M. de la +Regnie.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" id="page169"></a>169</span></p> + +<p>“‘I must have money,’ he adds, ‘to enable me to +retire and die elsewhere than on the Grève.’”</p> + +<p>He ends by extorting from Sainte-Croix an +undertaking to share with him the wealth obtained +through the murder of the brothers. But if Exili +relied upon the bond as a security of value, he +displayed a degree of ignorance of the human nature +of such individuals as Sainte-Croix that was surprising +in so astute a person.</p> + +<p>“To elude the payment of Exili’s bond,” says the +author, “he had determined upon destroying him, +running the risk of whatever might happen subsequently +through the physician’s knowledge of the +murders.” And he had, therefore, ordered a body +of the “Guard Royal to attend, when they would +receive sufficient proof of the trade Exili was driving +in his capacity of alchemist.”</p> + +<p>Sainte-Croix visited the Italian with excuses for +the non-payment of the money early in the evening +of the day on which the arrest was planned to take +place later. To those excuses the poisoner listened +angrily; he discovered some valuable jewels which +Sainte-Croix wore. He had purposely brushed his +hand against Sainte-Croix’s cloak, and in the pocket +of it he felt some weighty substance. The chink +assured him it was gold.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" id="page170"></a>170</span></p> + +<p>“‘You cannot have that,’ said Gaudin confusedly; +‘it is going with me to the gaming-table to-night.’</p> + +<p>“‘You have rich jewels, too, about you,’ continued +Exili, peering at him with a fearful expression. +‘The carcanet becomes you well. That diamond +clasp is a fortune in itself.’</p> + +<p>“‘Not one of them is mine,’ said Sainte-Croix. +‘They belong to the Marchioness of Brinvilliers.’”</p> + +<p>The Italian affected to be satisfied with the assurance +that the money should be paid next day, and +Sainte-Croix’s doom was sealed. The alchemist +“turned to the furnace to superintend the progress +of some preparation that was evaporating over the +fire.</p> + +<p>“‘What have you there?’ asked Gaudin, who was +anxious to prolong the interview till the guard could +arrive.</p> + +<p>“‘A venom more deadly than any we have yet +known—that will kill like lightning, and leave no +trace of its presence to the most subtle tests.’</p> + +<p>“‘You will give me the secret?’ asked Gaudin.</p> + +<p>“‘As soon as it is finished, and the time is coming +on apace. You have arrived opportunely to assist +me.’</p> + +<p>“He took a mask with glass eyes, and tied it +round his face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" id="page171"></a>171</span></p> + +<p>“‘If you would see the preparation completed, +you must wear one as well.’</p> + +<p>“Exili took another visor, and, under pretence of +rearranging the string, he broke it from the mask; +and then, fixing it back with some resinous compound +that would be melted by the heat of the +furnace, he cautiously fixed it to Sainte-Croix’s +face.</p> + +<p>“‘I will mind the furnace whilst you go,’ said +Gaudin, in reply to the alchemist, who said he must +fetch some drugs required for further operations.</p> + +<p>“At that moment Sainte-Croix heard an adjacent +bell sound the hour at which he had appointed the +guard to arrive.</p> + +<p>“‘There is no danger in this mask, you say?’</p> + +<p>“‘None,’ said Exili.</p> + +<p>“Anxious to become acquainted with the new +poison, and in the hope that as soon as he had +acquired the secret of its manufacture the guard +would arrive, Gaudin bent over the furnace. Exili +had left the apartment, but as soon as his footfall +was beyond Sainte-Croix’s hearing he returned, +treading as stealthily as a tiger, and took up his +place at the door to watch his prey. As Gaudin +bent his head to watch the preparation more closely, +the heat of the furnace melted the resin with which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" id="page172"></a>172</span> +the string had been fastened. It gave way, and the +mask fell on the floor, whilst the vapour of the +poison rose full in his face almost before, in his +eager attention, he was aware of the accident.</p> + +<p>“One terrible scream—a cry which, once heard, +could never be forgotten—not that of agony, or +terror, or surprise, but a shrill and violent indrawing +of the breath, resembling rather the screech of some +huge, hoarse bird of prey irritated to madness, than +the sound of a human voice—broke from Gaudin’s +lips. Every muscle of his face was contorted into the +most frightful form; he remained a second, and +no more, wavering at the side of the furnace, and +then fell heavily on the floor. He was dead.”</p> + +<p>This terrible death-scene has found a perfect illustrator +in John Leech. How admirable is the fiendish +expression of the poisoner as he gloats over the body +of his victim, which is drawn with a power and +truthfulness altogether perfect! Every detail of +the laboratory how skilfully introduced, how effectively +rendered!</p> + +<p>The alchemist behaved on the occasion as might +be expected.</p> + +<div class="center ptb2"><img style="width:600px; height:749px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img194.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p>“He darted at the dead body like a beast of prey; +and drew forth the bag of money, which he transferred +to his own pouch. He next tore away every +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" id="page173"></a>173</span> +ornament of any value that adorned Gaudin’s costly +dress....”</p> + +<p>While at this congenial occupation, “the bristling +halberts of the guard appeared.</p> + +<p>“‘Back!’ screamed Exili. ‘Keep off, or I will +slay you and myself, so that not one shall live to tell +the tale! Your lives are in my hands,’ continued +the physician, ‘and if you move one step forward +they are forfeited.’</p> + +<p>“He darted through a doorway at the end of the +room as he spoke, and disappeared. The guard +pressed forward; but, as Exili passed out at the +arch, a mass of timber descended like a portcullis +and opposed their further progress. A loud and +fiendish laugh sounded in the <i>souterrain</i>, which +grew fainter and fainter, till they heard it no +more.”</p> + +<p>The poisoner escaped—for a time. He was captured +afterwards, tried, and, of course, condemned to +death—a merciful death compared with that which +befell him on his way to execution at the hands of +the infuriated people, by whom his guards were +overpowered, and after being almost torn to pieces, +he was thrown into the Seine.</p> + +<p>The toils were now closing round the miserable +Marchioness de Brinvilliers. The wretched woman +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" id="page174"></a>174</span> +had reached the inconceivable condition of degradation +said to be common to successful murderers +when impunity has followed their first crimes—that +of killing for killing’s sake. She put on the clothes +of a <i>religeuse</i>, attended the hospitals, and poisoned +the patients. Their dying cries were music to her, +their agonies afforded her the keenest pleasure. To +the student of French criminal history this is no +news. I note it here so that the historian of the +woman’s crimes should not be thought to have +invented incidents that existed only in his imagination. +Mr. Smith had the best authority for all +the murders with which he charges Madame de +Brinvilliers.</p> + +<p>The death of Sainte-Croix was followed by the +usual police regulation where foul play is suspected. +Seals were affixed to his effects, amongst which +poisons were discovered that were proved to be the +property of the Marchioness of Brinvilliers. The +murderess, terror-stricken, fled from Paris; and, +though hotly pursued, she escaped into Belgium, +and sought refuge in a religious house, where she +took “sanctuary.” The pursuers were so near that, +as she jumped from her carriage at the convent-door, +she left her cloak in the hands of the exempt. +She turned upon him, says the author, “with a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" id="page175"></a>175</span> +smile of triumph that threw an expression of +demoniac beauty over her features, and cried:</p> + +<p>“‘You dare not touch me, or you are lost body +and soul!’”</p> + +<p>I must again refer my reader to Mr. Albert +Smith’s book if he wishes to learn how the exempt, +disguised as an abbé, beguiled the Marchioness from +her sanctuary, and content myself with showing—or +rather in letting Leech show—how she looked when +the police-officer dropped his disguise and she found +herself seized by his men.</p> + +<p>The details given by Mr. Albert Smith of the last +hours of Madame de Brinvilliers are, though painful +reading, very remarkable. The Docteur Pirot, who +passed nearly the whole of his time at the Conciergerie, +has left records of which the author +has availed himself, as well as from the letters of +Madame de Sévigné. Those who wish to “sup +full of horrors” can satisfy themselves by reading +the account of the torture by water which was +inflicted upon the miserable woman to induce her to +betray her accomplices. But there were none to +betray. Her only accomplice was dead. Her +sufferings on the rack very nearly cheated the +headsman, for, as they culminated “in a piercing +cry of agony, after which all was still, the graffier, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page176" id="page176"></a>176</span> +fearing that the punishment had been carried too far, +gave orders that she should be unbound.” On her +way to execution, she was attended by the constant +Pirot. The tumbrel stopped before the door of +Nôtre Dame, and a paper was put into her hands, +from which she read, in a firm voice, a confession of +her crimes. The tumbrel again advanced with difficulty +through the dense crowds, portions of which, +“slipping between the horses of the troops who +surrounded it, launched some brutal remark at Marie +with terrible distinctness and meaning; but she never +gave the least sign of having heard them, only keeping +her eyes intently fixed upon the crucifix which +Pirot held up before her.”</p> + +<p>In this drawing Leech’s power over individual +character may be noted in the diversity of type +amongst the hooting crowd round the tumbrel. The +shrinking form of the prisoner is very beautiful.</p> + +<p>When the Place de Grève was reached the +execrations of the mob had ceased, and “a deep +and awful silence” prevailed, “so perfect that the +voices of the executioner and Pirot could be plainly +heard,” says the chroniclers. I pass over harrowing +details. The beautiful head of the poisoner was +struck off by a single sword-stroke, and the executioner, +turning to Pirot, said:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" id="page177"></a>177</span></p> + +<p>“‘It was well done, monsieur, and I hope madame +has left me a trifle, for I deserve it.’”</p> + +<p>He then “calmly took a bottle from his pocket +and refreshed himself with its contents.”</p> + +<p>If the short extracts from the history of this great +criminal have enabled my readers more clearly to +understand and enjoy Leech’s illustrations, my object +in selecting them has been realized.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" id="page178"></a>178</span></p> + +<div class="center art1"><img style="width:150px; height:35px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img001.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="chap2 center">CHAPTER X.</p> + +<p class="center scs">“A MAN MADE OF MONEY.”—DOUGLAS JERROLD.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc chap1">Knowing</span> that this extraordinary book was illustrated +by John Leech, and hearing that it contained +some of his best work, it became my duty to make a +sufficient acquaintance with the book to enable me +to criticise and explain the drawings to my readers. +I tried “skimming,” but the power of the book, +and the brilliancy of the wit in it, so attracted me +that I read the whole of it.</p> + +<p>It is not my province, and it is certainly not in my +power, to pose as a critic of literary work; and the +hero—the man made of money, with a heart made +of bank-notes instead of flesh and blood, containing +within himself a bank that could be drawn upon to +any amount—is so wonderful a being as to place +him out of the category of human creatures, and altogether +beyond criticism. This gentleman’s name +was Jericho. He had waited till he was forty, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" id="page179"></a>179</span> +then he married a widow with three children; two +of them were girls, the third a young gentleman of +whom those who knew him best said, “He was born +for billiards.” There was no love lost between Mr. +Jericho and his step-children; in fact, they cordially +hated him, and he returned the compliment. Their +name was Pennibacker, inherited from their father, +Captain Pennibacker, whose loving wife “was made a +widow at two-and-twenty by an East Indian bullet.” +Mr. Jericho was one of that large class which, though +really needy, manœuvres successfully to be considered +wealthy. His step-children considered him +as “a rich plum-cake, to be sliced openly or by stealth +among them.” The widow Pennibacker was first +attracted to him by “a whispered announcement +that he was a City gentleman. Hence Jericho +appeared to the imagination of the widow with an +indescribable glory of money about him.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jericho desired to make a few purchases, and +she approached her husband with a cry familiar to +most of us:</p> + +<p>“‘Mr. Jericho, when can you let me have some +money?’”</p> + +<p>The lady’s confidence in her husband’s wealth +ought to have been shaken by what followed her +application. Mr. Jericho turned a deaf ear to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" id="page180"></a>180</span> +appeal, which was repeated in every variety of tone +and accent.</p> + +<p>At length, “waving her right hand before her +husband’s face with a significant and snaky motion,” +she reiterated her demand with a terrible calmness:</p> + +<p>“‘When can I have some money?’</p> + +<p>“‘Woman!’ cried Jericho vehemently, as though +at once and for ever he emptied his heart of the +sex; and, rushing from the room, he felt himself in +the flattering vivacity of the moment a single man. +‘I’m sure, after all, I do my best to love the woman,’ +thought Jericho, ‘and yet she will ask me for +money.’”</p> + +<p>Disgusted with these unreasonable demands for +money, Mr. Jericho determines to revenge himself +by taking a day’s pleasure with three special friends, +to be ended by “a quiet banquet at which the +human heart would expand in good fellowship, and +where the wine was above doubt.”</p> + +<p>The dinner was a great success. It was very late—or +rather somewhat early, as the sparrows were +twittering from the eaves—when Mr. Jericho sought +the marital couch, in which, too, his “wife Sabilla” +was evidently “in a sound, deep, sweet sleep.”</p> + +<p>“Untucking the bed-clothes, and making himself +the thinnest slice of a man, Jericho slides between +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181"></a>181</span> +the sheets; and there he lies feloniously still, and he +thinks to himself—Being asleep, she cannot tell how +late I came to bed. At all events, it is open to +dispute, and that is something.</p> + +<p>“‘Mr. Jericho, when can you let me have some +money?’</p> + +<p>“With open eyes, and clearly ringing every word +upon the morning air, did Mrs. Jericho repeat this +primal question.</p> + +<p>“And what said Jericho? With a sudden qualm +at the heart, and with a stammering tongue, he +answered:</p> + +<p>“‘Why, my dear, I thought you were sound +asleep.’”</p> + +<p>Here follows a dialogue in the vein of the +“Caudle Lectures,” in which Jerrold gives his wit +and humour full play. To the perusal of the “give-and-take” +passage of arms I cordially commend my +readers. The dialogue closes with these words:</p> + +<p>“‘I’m sure it’s painful enough to my feelings, and +I feel degraded by the question, nevertheless I must +and will ask you—<i>When will you let me have some +money?</i>’”</p> + +<p>This was the last straw, and Jericho groaned +out:</p> + +<p>“‘<span class="sc">I wish to Heaven I was made of money!</span>’”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182"></a>182</span></p> + +<p>To which Mrs. Jericho retorted, “in a low, deep, +earnest voice:</p> + +<p>“‘I wish to Heaven you were!’”</p> + +<p>Silence came at last, and in the midst of it Jericho +“subsided into muddled sleep; snoring heavily, +contemptuously, at the loneliness of his spouse.”</p> + +<p>And now <i>two fleas</i>—an elder and younger flea—come +upon the scene, and proceed to dine, or sup, +upon Mr. Jericho’s brow.</p> + +<p>A long conversation ensues between these interesting +creatures, in which the elder flea describes +to his son how a man’s heart was changed into +inexhaustible bank-notes.</p> + +<p>“‘Miserable race!’ said the father flea, with his +beautiful bright eye shining pitifully upon Jericho; +‘miserable, craving race, you hear, my son! Man +in his greed never knows when he has wherewithal. +He gorges to gluttony; he drinks to drunkenness; +and you heard this wretched fool who prayed to +Heaven to turn him—heart, brain, and all—into a +lump of money.’”</p> + +<p>How the operation was effected may be learnt +from Mr. Jerrold’s book. One result of it was a +most troubled and miserable night to the dreamer +Jericho, whose complaints to his wife when he awoke +met with no sympathy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>183</span></p> + +<p>“‘If I were to live a thousand years, I shouldn’t +forget last night!’ groaned Jericho.</p> + +<p>“‘Very likely not,’ said Mrs. Jericho; ‘I’ve no +doubt you deserve to remember it. I shouldn’t +wonder——’”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jericho’s want of money is intensified by the +wants of her son Basil, whose luck at billiards may +have failed him just when his creditors were most +pressing.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, what does the old fellow say, the scaly +old griffin? What’s he got to answer for himself?’” +This was “the sudden question put to Mrs. Jericho +on her return to the drawing-room, after the interview +with her husband. ‘Come, what is it? Will +he give me some money? In a word,’ asked young +hopeful, ‘will he go into the melting-pot, like a man +and a father?’</p> + +<p>“‘My dear Basil, you mustn’t ask me,’ replied +Mrs. Jericho.</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, mustn’t I, though!’ cried Basil. ‘Ha, you +don’t know the lot of people that’s asking me; bless +you, they ask a hundred times to my once!’”</p> + +<p>The Jerichos have some rich friends, the Carraways, +who live in a mansion called Jogtrot Hall, +“the one central grandeur, the boast and the comfort +of the village of Marigolds.” To a fête at the Hall +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" id="page184"></a>184</span> +comes an invitation to the Jerichos. It had always +been Mrs. Jericho’s ambition that her girls should—“in +her own nervous words”—make a blow in +marriage, and she felt that perhaps the time had +come. But the girls’ dresses—the “war-paint,” as +Mr. Basil put it—there was the difficulty, only to be +surmounted by Mr. Jericho’s yielding to the repeated +cry, “When will you let me have some money?”</p> + +<p>With but faint hopes of success, Mrs. Jericho +seeks her husband in his study. In a long colloquy, +she urges the importance of her daughters’ appearance +at this “grand party,” and the necessity for an +advance to enable them to do so properly. Mr. +Jericho turns a deaf ear to her appeal, till suddenly +a wonderful change comes over him.</p> + +<p>“Quite a new look of satisfaction gleamed from +his eyes, and his mouth had such a strange smile of +compliance! What could ail him?”</p> + +<p>The charm was working, the marvellous change +was in operation. Mrs. Jericho fears for her husband’s +sanity. “‘He doesn’t look mad,’ thought +Mrs. Jericho, a little anxious.</p> + +<p>“‘I feel as if I had got new blood, new flesh, new +bones, new brain! Wonderful!’ Jericho trod up +and down the room and snapt his fingers. ‘Something’s +going to happen,’ said he.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>185</span></p> + +<p>And something did indeed happen. The transformation +was complete; the hard heart had given +place to illimitable money.</p> + +<p>“‘You will let me have the money?’ repeated +Mrs. Jericho.</p> + +<p>“Jericho answered not a word, but withdrew his +hand from his breast. Between his finger and his +thumb he held in silver purity a virgin Bank of +England note for a hundred pounds. Mrs. Jericho +ran delightedly off with the money.</p> + +<p>“And Jericho sat with his heart beating faster. +Again he placed his hand to his breast, again drew +forth another bank-note. He jumped to his feet, +tore away his dress, and, running to a mirror, saw +therein reflected, not human flesh, but over the +region of the heart a loose skin of bank-paper, +veined with marks of ink. He touched it, and still +in his hand lay another note. His thoughtless wish +had been wrought into reality. Solomon Jericho +was in very truth a Man made of Money.”</p> + +<p>The fête at Jogtrot Hall was a great success. +The guests were many, and some of them distinguished. +The Honourable Mr. Candytuft, Colonel +Bones, Commissioner Thrush, and Dr. Mizzlemist, of +Doctors’ Commons, must be noted, as they have to +be dealt with pictorially by Leech hereafter. After +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>186</span> +a variety of entertainments, some twenty or thirty +hungry guests graced a table under a long, wide +tent, on which “there were the most delicious proofs +of the earth’s goodness, with every kitchen mystery.” +The host, Mr. Carraway, took the head of the +table; Mr. Jericho, “dignified and taciturn, graced +the board.” The orator on the occasion was Dr. +Mizzlemist, who had been seized with a passion to +drink everybody’s health. For the third time he +rose to give “the health of Solomon Jericho, +Esquire, an honour to his country.”</p> + +<p>“In the course of his speech the Doctor delivered +himself with so much energy that at the same time +he stuck the fork, which had served him in emphasizing +the Jericho virtues, between the bones of Mr. +Jericho’s right hand, pinning it where it lay.</p> + +<p>“‘It is nothing,’ said the philosophic Jericho.”</p> + +<p>The change in Mr. Jericho’s appearance, from the +full-faced, healthy-looking individual of Leech’s first +drawing, to the spare, hollow-cheeked man at the +banquet, is to be accounted for by the fact that, +after each application to the strange bank established +in Mr. Jericho’s breast, his whole form shrinks; +he becomes thinner and thinner, to the alarm of his +tailor, who “says, as he measures the changed +man:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>187</span></p> + +<p>“‘Six inches less round the body, as I’m a sinner! +Six inches less, Mr. Jericho, and I last took your +measure six weeks ago.’”</p> + +<p>At the Carraway fête the Misses Jericho made, +and improved, the acquaintance of the Hon. Mr. +Candytuft, and of an incredible idiot, Sir Arthur +Homadod. The idiot was as beautiful as he was +foolish; he was therefore handsome beyond the +dreams of beauty. Whatever had taken the place +of the mind in the baronet was impressed by Miss +Agatha Pennibacker, and that virgin’s heart being +free, she lost it to Sir Arthur. The Hon. Mr. +Candytuft, having an eye to the enormous fortune +supposed to be possessed by Mr. Jericho, and being +desirous to secure the portion of it that would of +course fall to his step-daughter, made love to Miss +Monica with considerable success.</p> + +<p>In the meantime the ladies wish to go to Court; +in this they are encouraged by Candytuft; and, to +enable them to make a proper figure there, costly +jewels are required. To Candytuft and Jericho +enter Mrs. J., “with a magnificent suite of jewels.</p> + +<p>“‘Aren’t they beautiful, my dear Solomon?’ said +she....</p> + +<p>“‘You know, my dear,’ said Mrs. Jericho, in +her sweetest, most convincing voice, ‘it would be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>188</span> +impossible to go to Court without diamonds. One +isn’t dressed without diamonds.’</p> + +<p>“‘Court!’ Jericho opened his eyes, and a wan +smile broke on his thin, blank cheek. ‘Are you +going to Court?’</p> + +<p>“‘Why, of course—are we not, dear Mr. Candytuft? +What would be thought of us if we did not +pay our homage to——’</p> + +<p>“The sentence was broken by the sudden appearance +of Monica and Agatha, each bearing a jewel-case, +and looking radiant with the possession.</p> + +<p>“‘Thank you, dear papa,’ said Monica, curtseying +and smiling her best to Jericho.</p> + +<p>“‘They’re beautiful. Thank you—dear, dearest +papa,’ cried the more impulsive Agatha.</p> + +<p>“‘Look!’ said Monica, and she exhibited her +treasure.</p> + +<p>“‘Look!’ cried Agatha, and she half dropped upon +one knee, on the other side, to show her jewels.</p> + +<p>“‘Beautiful!’ cried Candytuft. ‘Pray, ladies, don’t +stir.’</p> + +<p>“The girls, with pretty wonder on their faces, +kept their positions on either side of Jericho.</p> + +<p>“‘My dear madam’—and Candytuft appealed to +Mrs. Jericho—‘is not this a delightful group—an +exquisite family picture? It ought to be painted.’”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>189</span></p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:550px; height:726px" src="images/img212.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption"><i>A Family Picture.</i></td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>190</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Candytuft is right. The graceful figures of +the girls, the attenuated figure of papa, in whose +hopeless expression one sees the dread of further +attenuation, together with his own perfect presentment, +would make—indeed, does make—an admirable +picture. The jewels cost one thousand pounds: ten +calls have to be made upon the supernatural bank. +They are made, and the jeweller is paid. And the +result! For some minutes after the departure of +the tradesman Jericho sat motionless—all but +breathless. He would, however, know his fate. +He took out the silk lace with which an hour ago he +had measured his chest. Again he passed it round +his body. He had drawn upon the bank, and he +had shrunk an inch.</p> + +<p>Truly he was a man made of money—money was +the principle of his being, for with every note he +paid away a portion of his life.</p> + +<p>Poor Mr. Carraway was ruined through no fault +of his own. Jogtrot Hall was sold, and Jericho +bought it. Thirty thousand pounds’ worth of flesh +had he sacrificed to buy to himself a country +mansion. He had become a member of Parliament, +and at the same time become so thin that his tailor +declared, “It’s like measuring a penknife for a +sheath.” “Why,” said the tailor to his wife, “he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>191</span> +isn’t a man at all, but a cotton-pod. He can’t +have no more stomach than a ’bacco-pipe.” In fact, +it was the growing belief of a large circle that +Jericho was no flesh, no man, at all. “He was +made up of coats,” ran the rumour, “like an +onion.”</p> + +<p>The insolence that is sometimes the accompaniment +of great riches took full possession of Mr. +Jericho, and he found an occasion to treat Colonel +Bones to a specimen of it. Almost without provocation +the Colonel was called “a toad-eater! a bone-picking +pauper!” etc. For this insult the Colonel +declared he would have Mr. Jericho’s blood, and in +pursuance of that object he sent the millionaire a +challenge. Jericho fought very hard to avoid +fighting, but his second, Mr. Candytuft, prevailed, +and the belligerents met in Battersea Fields. Mr. +Commissioner Thrush waited upon the angry Colonel, +and the celebrated Dr. Dodo was there to attend to +the wounded. The seconds confer; the men are +placed. Candytuft looked at them with an eye of +admiration. The signal was given.</p> + +<p>“Colonel Bones fires, and his ball goes clear +through Jericho’s bosom, knocking off a button in +its passage, and striking itself flat against a pile of +bricks.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" id="page192"></a>192</span></p> + +<p>“‘A dead man!’ cried the doctor, running to +Jericho.</p> + +<p>“‘My friend,’ exclaimed Candytuft, ‘have you +made your will?’</p> + +<p>“‘Eh? What’s the matter?’ said Jericho.</p> + +<p>“‘Matter!’ exclaimed Dr. Dodo, and he pointed +his cane to the hole in the front of Jericho’s coat, +immediately over the region of his heart. ‘Matter! +It’s the first time I ever heard a man with a bullet +clean through his breast ask—What’s the matter!’”</p> + +<p>The Colonel’s ball had passed through Jericho’s +bank-note-paper breast, and Jericho lived and moved +and was none the worse for it. Jericho fired in the +air.</p> + +<p>An ugly atmosphere was collecting about Mr. +Jericho, and he was aware of it. “His own +family saw in him a man of mysterious attributes. +Monica turned pale at the smallest courtesy of her +parent, and Agatha, suddenly meeting him on the +staircase, squealed and ran away as from a fiend.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Jericho went on a rejoicing conqueror. His +huge town mansion, burning with gold—massive, +rich, and gorgeous; for the Man of Money was far +the most substantial, the most potent development +of his creed, whereby to awe and oppress his +worshippers——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page193" id="page193"></a>193</span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Jericho had made up her mind that it was +time her daughters were “settled in life, and she +said as much to her husband.”</p> + +<p>“‘Your girls, my dear, have my free permission +to settle when and where they like,’ said the husband.</p> + +<p>“But in sounding Mr. Jericho as to his intentions +in the matter of settlements, she could make no way +whatever. At last she put the point-blank question:</p> + +<p>“‘What do you propose to give the dear child?’ +(alluding to Monica, for whose hand Candytuft was +about to ask).</p> + +<p>“‘Give! I’ll give a magnificent party on the +occasion.’</p> + +<p>“‘But the dowry; what dowry do you give?’</p> + +<p>“‘Dowry! I thought, my dear, you observed +marriage was no bargain? Why, you’re making it +quite a ready-money transaction!’”</p> + +<p>At this point the conversation was interrupted +by Mr. Candytuft, who, before advocating his own +case, warmly espoused that of his foolish friend, Sir +Arthur Homadod, the accepted of Agatha.</p> + +<p>“‘He’s as bashful as—as—upon my life I am at +a loss for a simile. And as he and I are old friends, +and as he knew that I should see you—in fact, he’s +in the house at this moment, and came along with me—he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" id="page194"></a>194</span> +desired me to inform you that Miss Agatha had +consented to fix the—the—what d’ye call it—the +happy day.’</p> + +<p>“‘Wish them joy,’ said Jericho.</p> + +<p>“‘As to the young lady’s dowry?’ hesitated Candytuft.</p> + +<p>“‘I can’t give a farthing; can’t afford it, my dear +Candytuft.’”</p> + +<p>The ambassador then speaks for himself:</p> + +<p>“‘You may have remarked my affection for Miss +Monica? You must have remarked it?’</p> + +<p>“‘I beg a thousand pardons,’ said the wag Jericho, +‘but it has quite escaped me.’</p> + +<p>“Candytuft wanly smiled.</p> + +<p>“‘In a word, my dear sir, we have come to +the sweet conclusion that we were made for one +another.’</p> + +<p>“‘Dear me! Well, how lucky you should have +met!’”</p> + +<p>Mr. Candytuft beats about the bush for awhile, but +at last comes abruptly to the point, saying:</p> + +<p>“‘I <i>must</i> ask—you force me to be plain—what +will you give with the young lady?’</p> + +<p>“‘Not a farthing!’ cried Jericho. ‘Not one +farthing!’ said the man of money with determined +emphasis.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" id="page195"></a>195</span></p> + +<p>“‘What is the matter?’ said Mrs. Jericho, who +entered the room at this juncture.</p> + +<p>“‘Pooh! you know well enough,’ cried Jericho. +‘Mr. Candytuft wants to marry rich; but that’s +not all—he wants to be handsomely paid for the +trouble.’”</p> + +<p>After awhile Jericho affects to agree to dower his +step-daughter, and he says:</p> + +<p>“‘Let us settle the sum, eh! Well, then, what +sum would satisfy you?’”</p> + +<p>It was a delicate question to put thus nakedly.</p> + +<p>“‘Come, name a figure. Say five thousand +pounds.’”</p> + +<p>Candytuft looked blankly at Jericho, moving not a +muscle.</p> + +<p>“‘What do you say to seven?’</p> + +<p>“Candytuft gently lifted his eyebrows, deprecating +the amount.</p> + +<p>“‘Come, then, we’ll advance to ten?’</p> + +<p>“The lover’s face began to thaw, and he showed +some signs of kindly animation.</p> + +<p>“‘At a word, then,’ cried Jericho with affected +heartiness, ‘will you take fifteen thousand?’</p> + +<p>“‘From you—yes,’ cried Candytuft; and he seized +Jericho’s hand.</p> + +<p>“The man of money looked at Candytuft with a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page196" id="page196"></a>196</span> +contemptuous sneer, and with a wrench twisted his +hand away. He then dropped into a chair, and a +strange, diabolical scowl possessed his countenance. +The man of money looked like a devil.</p> + +<p>“‘And where—where do you think this money is +to come from? Where?’ asked Jericho, and he rose +from his chair, and it seemed as though the demon +possessing him would compel the wretch to talk—would +compel him to make terrible revelations. Each +word he uttered was born of agony. But there he +stood, forced to give utterances that tortured him. +‘I will tell you,’ roared Jericho, ‘what this money is. +Look about you! What do you see?—fine pictures, +fine everything. Why, you see me—tortured, torn, +worked up, changed. The walls are hung with my +flesh—my flesh you walk upon. I am worn piecemeal +by a hundred thieves, but I’ll be shared among +them no longer.’”</p> + +<p>By this time the girls and Sir Arthur Homadod, +alarmed by the cries of Jericho, had entered the +room.</p> + +<p>“‘And you had a fine feast, had you not?’ cried +the possessed man of money, writhing with misery +and howling his confession. ‘And what did you +eat?—my flesh. What did you drink?—my blood!’”</p> + +<p>It would be impossible to imagine a more satisfactory +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page197" id="page197"></a>197</span> +realization of this powerful scene than Leech’s +rendering of it. The shrinking figure of Candytuft +as he retreats before the fury of the moneyed man; +the awful passion of the shrivelled Jericho; above all, +the vacuous expression of Sir Arthur, all are done to +perfection and without exaggeration. Beyond the +endeavour to make the meaning of the illustrations +in the “Man made of Money” clear to my readers, I +have little or nothing to do with the story. I may +note, however, that young Basil Pennibacker falls in +love with Bessy, the pretty daughter of the ruined +merchant Carraway, and that bold bankrupt, who +is about to seek a new fortune at the Antipodes, calls +upon Jericho to ask his consent to his stepson’s +marriage. How the announcement of the engagement +was received may be imagined, or if my reader +be not satisfied with his idea of what may have taken +place, he can read in Mr. Jerrold’s book how Mr. +Carraway was met by his old friend. He will +also find an illustration of an interview between +“The Pauper and the Man of Money,” but as I do +not think it quite worthy of Leech, I do not reproduce +it. I may as well add that Basil—who turns out to +be a very good fellow—does marry Bessy, and the +happy pair, with the parent pair of Carraways, depart +for Australia in the good ship <i>Halcyon</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page198" id="page198"></a>198</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Jericho’s explosion, and his unpleasant conduct +generally—especially regarding Monica’s dowry—had +altered Mr. Candytuft’s matrimonial intentions +for the present: there were delays. “He had suddenly +discovered some dormant right to some long-forgotten +property, and he meant to secure that, and +lay it as an offering at the feet of his bride.” How +the foolish Sir Arthur agreed to marry Agatha without +a dowry, to the intense delight of Jericho—how +splendid preparations for the wedding were made—how +the wedding-party, Jericho included, waited +at the church for the bridegroom, who never came +(he had overslept himself in consequence of an overdose +of medicine taken to steady his nerves)—for +these details my reader is again referred to Mr. +Jerrold, who describes the whole most enjoyably. +Leech draws the baronet awakened by his servant, +but too late: the canonical hour has passed. A report +was spread that Sir Arthur had taken poison to +avoid the Jericho connection.</p> + +<p>Just at this time Mr. Jericho was offered a most +satisfactory mortgage—so any way there was land +for his money—no less than five-and-forty thousand +pounds, by his friend the Duke of St. George.</p> + +<p>Jericho lent the money, in the hope of climbing +into the House of Lords with the assistance of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page199" id="page199"></a>199</span> +Duke; but this last drain upon his resources, with +its penalty of attenuation, had left very little of him +to go anywhere.</p> + +<p>“He had shrunk,” says the author. “How +horribly he had dwindled, how wretchedly small he +had become! Ay, how small! He would measure +himself, he would know the exact waste. Whereupon +Jericho took the silken cord and passed it +round his breast. Why, it would twice encircle him—twice! +and a piece to spare. With horror and +loathing he flung the cord into the fire. He would +never again take damning evidence against himself.”</p> + +<p>It became evident to Jericho that, if he desired to +retain enough of his person to enable his friends and +relations to recognise him, the drain upon the chest +notes must cease.</p> + +<p>“He would, therefore, not draw another note—no, +not another. He would live upon what he had. +He would turn the foolish superfluities about him +into hard, tangible money.”</p> + +<p>Bent upon turning everything belonging not only +to himself, but to his wife and daughters, into cash, +he sent for Mrs. Jericho.</p> + +<p>“The trembling wife had scarcely power to meet +the eyes of her helpmate. In two days twenty years +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page200" id="page200"></a>200</span> +seemed to have gathered upon him. His face +looked brown, thin, and withered as last year’s leaf. +His whole body bent and swayed like a piece of +paper moved by the air. As he held his hand +aloof, the light shone through it. It was plain there +was some horrid compact between her lord and +the infernal powers, or—it was all as one—the +tyranny of conscience had worn him to his present +condition.</p> + +<p>“‘Mrs. Jericho, madam, you will instantly bring +me all your diamonds—jewellery—all. Give like +orders to your daughters, the mincing harpies that +eat me.’”</p> + +<p>The terrified woman remonstrated, asked for an +explanation, offered to send for the doctor.</p> + +<p>“‘Away with you! do as I command. Bring me +all your treasures—all. And your minxes! See +that they obey me too, and instantly.’</p> + +<p>“‘Yes, my love, to be sure,’ said Mrs. Jericho, for +she was all but convinced that Solomon’s reason was +gone or going. It was best to humour him. ‘And +why, my love, do you wish for these things? Of +course you shall have them, but why?’</p> + +<p>“‘To turn them into money, madam,’ cried +Jericho, rubbing his hands. ‘We have had enough +of the tomfoolery of wealth—I now begin to hunger +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page201" id="page201"></a>201</span> +for the substance. I’ll do without fashion. I’ll have +power, madam—power!’”</p> + +<p>The conversation continued, and Mrs. Jericho +became more and more convinced that her husband +was mad.</p> + +<p>“‘Oh that Dr. Stubbs would make a morning +call!’ silently prayed the wife.”</p> + +<p>The man of money, having determined to dismantle +his house and send his wife and daughters +adrift, retired with one servant, all the rest being +discharged, into “one of his garrets, a den of a +place,” where the scullion had slept. The servant +was the pauper grandfather of one of his footmen, +an old man of “congenial weakness with Jericho. +Indeed, there looked between them a strange +similitude, twin brethren damned to the like sordidness, +the like rapacity.”</p> + +<p>Jericho had nicknamed the old man Plutus. +Jericho and Plutus were in face and expression as +like as two snakes.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jericho, assured of her husband’s madness, +took counsel with her friends. Drs. Stubbs and +Mizzlemist, Colonel Bones, Commissioner Thrush, +and Candytuft met in conclave and listened to Mrs. +Jericho’s account of her husband’s ravings; but she +failed to convince the doctors that what a jury would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page202" id="page202"></a>202</span> +consider insanity, was apparent in anything that the +man of money had said or done. As Dr. +Mizzlemist delivered this opinion, a crash was heard +in an adjoining room—another, and another, and +then a loud triumphant laugh from the throat of +Jericho.</p> + +<p>Wife and daughters, with jury of friends, started +to their feet. Candytuft, ere he was aware—for had +he reflected “a moment, he would as soon have +unbarred a lion’s cage—opened the doors. And +there stood Jericho, laden with spoil.”</p> + +<p>Though Mr. Jericho was voted sane by the +doctors, his conduct displayed a brutality for which +madness would be the only excuse. The Jews were +coming, everything was to be sold.</p> + +<p>“‘Why stay you here?’ cried the man of money +to his wife. ‘Why will you not be warned? In a +few hours there will not be a bed for your fine costly +bones to lie upon. Now will you depart?’”</p> + +<p>The Jews wandered about the rooms, appraising +everything. Jericho was anxious to avoid a “public +hubbub,” as he called a sale.</p> + +<p>“‘I want,’ said he to the brokers, ‘at a thought, +to melt all you see, and have seen, into ready +money. Take counsel together, I say, and make +me an offer, a lumping offer, for the whole—eh?’”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page203" id="page203"></a>203</span></p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:700px; height:538px" src="images/img226.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">“<i>And there stood Jericho.</i>”</td></tr></table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page204" id="page204"></a>204</span></p> + +<p>The man of money ascended to his garret and +awaited the Jews’ offer, which was promised for the +evening. He was alone, “evening closed in, and +the moon rose and looked reproachfully at the +miser.”</p> + +<p>The garret door opened, and Plutus appeared.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, has it come?’ cried the master.</p> + +<p>“‘Here it is,’ answered the servant, as he laid a +letter upon the table.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, now for their conscience!’ exclaimed the +man of money.”</p> + +<p>Light was required; there was a candle upon the +table, and paper prepared to light it.</p> + +<p>“Most precious paper—the heart’s flesh and +blood of the man of money! For the devilish +serving-man had folded a note (how obtained can +it matter?)—a note peeled from the breast of his +master, a piece of money, a part of the damned +Jericho sympathizing with him.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Yelling, and all on fire, the man of money falls +prostrate with hell in his face. Then his lips move, +but not a sound is heard. And the fire communicated +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" id="page205"></a>205</span> +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.”</p> + +<div class="center art1"><img style="width:150px; height:35px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img001.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" id="page206"></a>206</span></p> + +<p class="chap2 center">CHAPTER XI.</p> + +<p class="center scs">ALBERT SMITH AND LEECH.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc chap1">In</span> July, 1851, a new work appeared, under the +name and title of the <i>Month</i>: “a View of Passing +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 incumbent upon a writer of Leech’s +life.</p> + +<p>Eighteen fifty-one, as everybody knows, was the +year of the Great Crystal Palace Exhibition in +Hyde Park. I well remember visiting the huge +glass building in February, 1851, in company with +Dickens and Sir Joseph Paxton. Dickens was +wrapped in furs, and we shivered through the +place, which was only partially roofed; and seemed +altogether so far from completion as to cause great +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" id="page207"></a>207</span> +doubts in our minds of the possibility of its being +ready for its contents by the first of May.</p> + +<p>I put the question to Paxton, and his reply +was:</p> + +<p>“I <i>think</i> it will; but, mind, I don’t <i>say</i> it will.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>The first number of the <i>Month</i> 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 +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" id="page208"></a>208</span> +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.</p> + +<p>The literary portion which begins the <i>Month</i> is +very Albert Smithian indeed. In proof, I quote +some of his description of “The Hyde Park +Belle”:</p> + +<p>“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 <i>en suite</i>. In +answer to my questions, she replied as follows:</p> + +<p>“‘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. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" id="page209"></a>209</span> +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—nobody +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 Ambassador. 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 +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" id="page210"></a>210</span> +over. She had only classical music. I don’t know +what classical music is; I only know it bores me +dreadfully. Ashton Howard says the same people +who like classical music buy old china and wear +false hair. I wish people would give up classical +music. It never amuses anybody—that is, anybody +worth amusing. I don’t know whether “The +Huguenots” is classical music or not; I only know +that when they give it at the Royal Italian Opera +nobody seems bored <i>then</i>. I don’t know that I am +exactly.’”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>The Belle of Hyde Park continues:</p> + +<p>“‘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 +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" id="page211"></a>211</span> +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.’”</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>“‘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 +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page212" id="page212"></a>212</span> +when they come into the room. You can get a +nice bouquet for five or six shillings. 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.’”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>These sentiments were fully shared by one of +the <i>Month’s</i> 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 +multitudes who were expected to attend that ceremony +the kind of hat that should depose, at once +and for ever, the detestable chimney-pot.</p> + +<p>“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 +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" id="page213"></a>213</span> +as much variety of light and shadow as I could +obtain from my shaving-glass 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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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 +ragamuffin would sputter out an oath, and burst +into a horse laugh, which to my mind appeared +totally unwarranted by the circumstances of the case.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" id="page214"></a>214</span></p> + +<p>The managers of the <i>Month</i> 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 unsurpassable; +while to an artist the composition of the figures and +the arrangement of light and shadow are excellent.</p> + +<p>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 assumed irritated his assailants, +whose “offensive remarks and insolent mirth” were +soon exchanged for attentions more uncomfortable.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:600px; height:770px" src="images/img238.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption"><i>Mr. Simmons’s attempt at Reform.</i></td></tr></table> + +<p>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 grass, +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 assault, +as a prudent man would have done when surrounded +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" id="page215"></a>215<br />216</span> +by enemies, the valiant Simmons turned upon his +assailant, “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.”</p> + +<p>It will be seen by the quotations that the literary +portion of the <i>Month</i> is of the slight character—though +sometimes clever and amusing—to which so +much of Leech’s work has been allied. A sketch, +entitled “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 passed. 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 +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page217" id="page217"></a>217</span> +the sun at the corner, and holding a seedy bouquet +in our hand, which evidently she had not given +us.”</p> + +<p>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 illustration I note a +design under the heading of “Moral Courage.”</p> + +<div class="condensed"> +<p class="center">“<span class="sc">Scene</span>—<i>A Station of the Shoeblack Brigade</i>.</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">First Boy</span>: ‘Here’s another swell, Bill, a-coming to be +blacked.’</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Second Boy</span>: ‘Ooray!’</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Third Boy</span>: ‘Ain’t his boots thin neither?’</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Fourth Boy</span>: ‘Wouldn’t they pinch my toes if I had ’em? +Oh my!’</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Fifth Boy</span>: ‘They don’t pinch his’n.’</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Sixth Boy</span>: ‘Yes, they do.’</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">First Boy</span>: ‘Go easy, Blacky; mind his corns.’ (<i>Swell winces</i>.) +‘That was a nasty one.’</p> + +<p>“(<i>The comments are extended from the swell’s boots to his costume +and appearance generally. And all this for a penny</i>).”</p> +</div> + +<p>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 Titmarsh,” and it is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page218" id="page218"></a>218</span> +under that title 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.”</p> + +<p>In the <i>Month</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>Whether the “Belle of Hyde Park” or the “Belle +of the Ball” is to be considered the belle of the +<i>Month’s</i> 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 surpass, as the drawing +amply proves.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The frontispiece to the <i>Month</i> for August is an +etching by Leech of singular beauty, called “Charade +Acting.” I have looked in vain through the letter-press +for any explanation of this charade, so I suppose +the meaning is purposely left for discovery to the +intelligence of the observer. It represents the +clever performance of Mr. Smiley and Miss Corgy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" id="page219"></a>219</span></p> + +<p>Mr. Smiley evidently represents a valorous knight—else +why that dish-cover shield, that saucepan +helmet, that long surcoat of nightshirt in the place of +mail? The knight has armed himself further with +sword and lance (sword of any period, lance a roasting-spit). +Those warlike preparations must have +been made in defence of that delicious girl leaning +over the back of the ancient chair. Is she supposed +to be a distressed damsel leaning from her prison-window +and listening to Mr. Smiley’s vows of +liberating her or dying in the attempt? If so, +where is the word that will express as much? Not +in the brain of the stout old gentleman who is fast +asleep amongst the audience, nor in that of the +pretty little girl who sits in front of him apparently +wondering why people should be “so silly.” The +lady who tries to hide a yawn with her fan has +evidently “given it up,” and the two lovely women +near her are much in the same condition.</p> + +<p>Now we come to the belle of the month of +August, who is riding with her papa in Kensington +Gardens. An attempt was made—later, I think, +than the Exhibition year—to extend Rotten Row +into Kensington Gardens, and thus deprive pedestrians—notably +children and nursemaids—of their +promenades amongst the trees. For some months +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page220" id="page220"></a>220</span> +the equestrian habitués of Rotten Row careered in +the Gardens, to the terror and danger of children, +and the disturbance of many groups of soldiers and +nursemaids. This usurpation created very strong +opposition.</p> + +<p>I lived in the neighbourhood, and I accompanied +a deputation to Sir Cornewall Lewis—then +in power—with a view of impressing upon that +Minister the desirability of rescinding the objectionable +privilege which had been granted to the riders. +We had some eloquent talkers, but their oratory +seemed to me to make no impression upon Sir C. +Lewis, who may have listened, but during the +harangues he was always writing letters, and no +sooner was one finished than he began another; and +we left him without an intimation of our success or +failure. But what is certain is, that within a week +of our interview the equestrians disappeared—I hope +for ever—from Kensington Gardens. Leech being +a constant rider, both spoke and drew in favour of +the new ride. Drawings may be found in the <i>Punch</i> +series in which he laughs at the opponents of the +horses in the Gardens, and I remember his indignation +when I told him of our deputation and its +successful issue.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:630px; height:492px" src="images/img244.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">The Belle of the Month—August—taking a “Constitutional” in +Kensington Gardens. Time, 8 <span class="f90">A.M.</span></td></tr></table> + +<p>Leech was never happier than in the infinite +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page221" id="page221"></a>221<br />222</span> +variety of his pictures of life at the seaside; his +invention was inexhaustible, as numberless groups +of seaside visitors engaged in the search of +health or pleasure—from the small digger on +the sands to the valetudinarian at the Spa—sufficiently +prove. Never was he more delightful +than in dealing with the charming lady bathers, +one of whom plays the part of the <i>Month’s</i> “Belle +of September.”</p> + +<p>I think this picture might have inspired the poet +of the <i>Month</i>, but his lyre is silent.</p> + +<p>“The Balcony Nuisance!” Without some explanation +the drawing that follows this title would be +perfectly incomprehensible. How, in the name of +common-sense, of propriety, or of justice, can the +word “nuisance” be applicable to the occupants of +that balcony? Well, it is in this wise: A correspondent +of the <i>Month</i>, who signs himself “Narcissus,” +lives in a suburban square, from which he +indites a remarkable letter. According to “Narcissus,” +suburban squares are famous for the production +of vast numbers of “single ladies.” He +calls his square a “realm of girldom,” the proportion +of the belles being very great over the marriageable +young men, and therefore they watch with keen +eyes for any new flirtations. “And now,” said he, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page223" id="page223"></a>223</span> +“comes my complaint. I cannot call at any house +where there are daughters but, the instant I knock, +every balcony near me is filled with waves of rustling +muslin, and a dozen pairs of bright eyes are on the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page224" id="page224"></a>224</span> +<i>qui vive</i> for every movement or expression. I need +not say how annoying this is.”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:500px; height:621px" src="images/img246.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">The Balcony Nuisance.</td></tr></table> + +<p>I see no trace of annoyance in the simpering +buck who is the cynosure of all eyes in the drawing. +Leech evidently saw through the affectation of +annoyance, and depicted the Narcissus mind in its +real condition of gratified conceit.</p> + +<p>The <i>Month’s</i> October issue contains a good deal +of Leech’s work. The number contains a “Belle of +the Month,” but she is so inferior in attractiveness +to her sisters that I am ungallant enough to pass +her by. I find, however, a pretty musical group +entitled “Pestal.” In 1851 Mr. Albert Smith says +that Pestal, who was a Russian officer, was imprisoned +for marrying without the consent of his Sovereign, +and “cast for death.” Of course, though, according +to Mr. Smith, this unfortunate man may have +been a “Pestal-ent person,” we are not expected to +believe the crime for which he was executed was +only that of neglecting to ask the Czar’s consent to +his marriage. “On the eve of his execution, as he +lay <i>ironed</i>, awaiting the next morning’s <i>mangling</i>,” +continues the inveterate punster, “in a happy +moment of enthusiasm, he composed the waltz that +bears his name.”</p> + +<p>The pretty music seems to have sentimentalized +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page225" id="page225"></a>225</span> +the handsome youth, and drawn him closer to the +performer, who is one of those sweet creatures with +whom the artist has made us so familiar. I cannot +refrain from presenting my readers with an example +of the <i>poetry</i> that adorns the <i>Month</i>, so that they may +be convinced of the propriety of giving them as little +of it as possible. Forty-one verses, of which the +two following are fair examples, accompany the +drawing called Pestal:</p> + +<table class="reg f90" summary="poem"><tr><td> <div class="poemr"> +<p>“In London, as usual, last season I spent,</p> + <p class="i2">To Pocklington Square my notes were addressed all,</p> +<p class="i05">And wherever I rambled or wandered or went,</p> + <p class="i2">I was pestered with that horrid pest of a ‘Pestal.’</p> + +<p class="s">“I thought this mysterious, moreover, and queer,</p> + <p class="i2">’Tis better at once that the truth be confest all—</p> +<p class="i05">That all through the city one word should appear,</p> + <p class="i2">And that word the incomprehensible ‘Pestal.’”</p> +</div> </td></tr></table> + +<p>“The Great Dinner-Bell Nuisance” not only +gives occasion for a capital drawing by Leech, but +the title also heads a capital paper, in which the +absurdity of the function, when there is not the least +necessity for it, is well satirized. A retired lawyer +named Watkins Brown lives in a village which +contains at most 347 people, “in a comfortable sort +of house in the Italian style, which he christened +Somerford Villa.” He has no children, and his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page226" id="page226"></a>226</span> +establishment consists of five persons, Mrs. W. B., +Betsy, the cook, etc., including Buttons, the page. +This boy, armed with a bell, is a nuisance to the +neighbourhood; he performs upon it three times a +day. “Now,” says the indignant writer, “why does +Buttons do this? Is it to echo back the sound that +comes at the same hours from Sir Marmaduke +Hamilton’s, of Somerford Hall, and to impress +people that Brown and Sir Marmaduke are the only +gentlemen in the neighbourhood? It can’t be to +let Brown and his wife know that luncheon or dinner +is ready, for in nine cases out of ten they are in the +room when the cloth is laid. Again I ask, why +does Buttons do this? If he is of opinion that his +master is unaware it is time to dress for dinner, why +doesn’t he tell him so at once when he is in the +room, instead of using such an absurd system of +information? However, by six o’clock Brown and +his wife are in the drawing-room, and Buttons seeing +them there, and perceiving that they are just about +to go to the dining-room, rushes out to the little +court-yard, and then to the door of the miniature +conservatory, and again commits the offence he had +committed half an hour before. In the baby courtyard +there are two dogs chained, and two other +sporting dogs in a model of a kennel. Well, Buttons +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page227" id="page227"></a>227</span> +appears in the presence of the dogs with his great +bell, and the sensible brutes, conscious of the pain +they are about to endure, immediately set up a howl +of quadruple agony, to which the bell tolls its awful +accompaniment.”</p> + +<p>Exactly fifty years ago I went on a portrait-painting +tour into the country. Some sitters were +promised to me, and I had hope, subsequently +justified, that they would be the precursors of others. +Amongst my patrons was a clergyman of aristocratic +lineage; who, though he had inherited little in the +shape of money, was possessed of certain tastes +common to the upper ten, in which he could not +afford to indulge; but amongst them was the dinner-bell, +in which he did indulge, to the great annoyance +of his neighbours. The Vicarage was an unpretending +house with a small garden about it, in a +small village; the inhabitants were chiefly Methodists, +and the congregation at church was the smallest +I ever saw.</p> + +<p>The Vicar was not popular; the villagers disliked +what they called “his airs and graces,” +and they detested his dinner-bell. After sittings +from the Vicar, he and I took occasional walks +together, and one day, as we were passing a +cobbler’s shop, the proprietor of it, “a detestable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page228" id="page228"></a>228</span> +little Radical Methodist,” as the Vicar called him, +appeared at his door with a huge bell in his hand; +he stepped into the middle of the road, and, affecting +not to see us, he rang it furiously.</p> + +<p>“Man! man!” cried the Vicar, “stop that! What +are you making that dreadful noise for?”</p> + +<p>“Well, ye see,” replied the cobbler, in the language +of the county, “it’s ma dinner-time, and aase +joust ringin’ mysen in, to a bit of berry pudden.”</p> + +<p>I was so vividly reminded by the <i>Month’s</i> +“Dinner-Bell Nuisance” of my early experience, +that I could not resist my inclination to introduce it +into what purports to be the life of John Leech, +in which it has no business whatever to appear. +Once more I apologize, and hope I may not be +tempted to “do it again.”</p> + +<p>Of all the Belles of the Month, the belle of the +month November is perhaps the most lovable. +There she stands on Brighton Pier—stands, that +is to say, as well as she can on those pretty feet of +hers, against a wind that is so boisterously rude to +her and to her mother, whose figure, blown out of +shape, makes a striking contrast to her daughter’s. +The little dog declines to face the gale, which seems +likely to carry him away altogether, as well as the +struggling child behind. The touches of cloud and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page229" id="page229"></a>229</span> +sea, together with the screaming gulls, are indicated +with the facile skill peculiar to Leech.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:536px; height:600px" src="images/img252.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">The Belle of the Month November “in Distress off a +Lee-shore—Brighton Pier.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>In a paper headed “Hotels,” Mr. Smith expatiates +somewhat tediously on the “old-established +house” of the “old coaching days.” He says “the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page230" id="page230"></a>230</span> +inmates of the coffee-room were mostly commercial +travellers.” Those gentlemen may have been permitted +to use the coffee-room; but my recollection +of such places tells me that the commercials always +had a room of their own, specially provided for +them.</p> + +<p>The writer goes on to tell us that “the commercial +gents,” on the occasion of his discovery of +them in the coffee-room, “pulled off their boots—not +a very delicate performance—before everybody; +and then, after sitting over the fire, and drinking +hot brown brandy and water until they were nearly +at red heat, ordered ‘a pan of coals,’ and went to +bed.”</p> + +<p>Yes; and provided an excellent subject for Leech, +worthy of being reproduced here, or anywhere, if +only for that inimitable old chambermaid, who has +lighted commercial gents to bed any time these +forty years.</p> + +<p>Judging from the twist of the commercial’s necktie +as he follows, or rather staggers, after the ancient +maid, the brown brandy has done its work; and it is +ten to one against his carrying that box of patterns +safely upstairs.</p> + +<p>One boot is successfully removed from commercial +number two, and it will evidently not be the fault of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page231" id="page231"></a>231</span> +the man who is struggling with the other if it does +not follow suit.</p> + +<p>Let the observer note the marked difference in +character in all these figures, as well as the skill +and truth with which the details in the room are +rendered.</p> + +<p>In 1851 Bloomerism was in full bloom, or rather +the attempts of few foolish people to make it prevail +amongst us were so persistent as to bring upon +them attacks by pen and pencil.</p> + +<p>As I have already drawn attention to the craze, +and to some examples of the way Leech dealt with +it, I should have made no further allusion to the +subject had I not found in the pages of the <i>Month</i> +drawings of such charm that, in justice to the +magazine and my readers, I felt I must notice +them.</p> + +<p>First, then, we have a Bloomer whip “tooling” +her friends down to the races. If Bloomerism prevailed, +this is the sight that Epsom might have +seen in the year 1851, to say nothing of equestrian +bloomers of whose horsewomanship Leech shows us +examples.</p> + +<p>I think in my last selection from the <i>Month</i> I +might claim for myself a position resembling that of +the pyrotechnic artist whose display of fireworks +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page232" id="page232"></a>232</span> +culminates in a glorious blaze in the last scene of +his entertainment, if I were permitted to introduce +it.</p> + +<p>My firework takes the form of a bouquet of +young ladies at some “ancestral home” in the +country, who have just received a box of books +from London—perhaps from Mudie. What a bevy +of beauties!—two of them already absorbed in the +last new novel, while another makes off with an +armful of treasures.</p> + +<p>When I say that this drawing—whether we regard +it as a composition of figures and of light and +shade, or as an example of Leech’s supreme power +over grace of action and beauty—is worthy of admiration +for itself, and of our gratitude to the +<i>Month</i> for the opportunity of reproducing it, I fear +no contradiction.</p> + +<div class="center art1"><img style="width:150px; height:35px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img001.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page233" id="page233"></a>233</span></p> + +<p class="chap2 center">CHAPTER XII.</p> + +<p class="center scs">MR. ADAMS AND LEECH.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc chap1">In</span> the pursuit of material for this memoir, I have +had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of +one of Leech’s earliest and most constant friends, +Mr. Charles F. Adams, of Barkway, Hertfordshire. +This gentleman is the beau-idéal of a country +squire—handsome, hale and hearty, though far +past middle age.</p> + +<p>The letters I am privileged to publish show the +terms on which the friends lived, and prove beyond +a doubt that many of the hunting scenes which +sparkle so brilliantly and so frequently in the +pages of “Life and Character” owe their origin +to the opportunities afforded to the artist by his +friend.</p> + +<p>This long-continued intimacy commenced when +the men were both young; and the very first development +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page234" id="page234"></a>234</span> +of Leech’s taste for horses began with his +acquaintance with Mr. Adams. It is told of that +gentleman that, being the possessor of two horses, +and being at that early time employed in business +in London during the day, the night served him and +Leech for a wild career, Adams driving his horses +tandem-fashion far into the country, rousing sleepy +toll-keepers and terrifying belated wayfarers, while +Leech’s watchful eye noted incidents for future +illustration.</p> + +<p>That Leech could sing, and sing well, I know, for +I have often heard him troll forth in a deep voice his +favourite song of “King Death”; but that he had +ever performed in public I was unaware till enlightened +by Mr. Adams, who told me that it was a +favourite and not infrequent prank of these two +spirits to disguise themselves in imitation of street-musicians, +and, with the assistance of a young fellow +named Milburn, as wild as themselves, descend upon +the London streets, and by singing glees make “a +lot of money.”</p> + +<p>“Leech used to go round with the hat,” said +Adams; “but we never could make the fellow look +common enough. Still, he collected a good deal, +though he failed on one occasion; for, on presenting +his hat to a bystander, who had been an attentive +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page235" id="page235"></a>235</span> +listener, the man claimed exemption as being in ‘the +profession,’ in proof of which he produced a fiddle +from behind him.”</p> + +<p>Barkway is in the heart of a hunting country, and +the meets of the “Puckeridge” frequently took +place near Mr. Adams’ house, or at an easy distance +from it. The house itself—a large mass of red +brick, ivy, gables, and twisted chimneys—is one of +those old places which have been enlarged to suit +modern convenience without any sacrifice of the +original design and quaint character.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” said my host, as he showed me into his +dining-room, “what happy times we have had in +this room, when Leech, Millais, Lemon—editor of +<i>Punch</i>, you know, long ago—Tenniel, and others, +found themselves round that table!”</p> + +<p>The following letters, with their too few characteristic +sketches, prove the affectionate intimacy +between Leech and his friend.</p> + +<p class="pt2 center sc">“To Charles F. Adams, Esq.</p> + +<p class="rgt f80">“August 9, 1847.</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">My dear Charley</span>,</p> + +<p>    “You will be glad to hear that I have got a +little daughter, and that both mother and child are +doing well. Mrs. Leech was taken ill, unfortunately, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page236" id="page236"></a>236</span> +at the end of our trip to Liverpool—where, as +perhaps you are aware, Dickens and some of us had +been acting for Leigh Hunt’s benefit—and she was +confined at the Victoria Hotel, Euston Square, +where she is now. I thought you would like to hear +the news, so send off these few lines. Give my +kindest regards to Mrs. Adams, and believe me, +old boy,</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt">“<span class="sc">John Leech.</span>”</p> + +<p class="pt2">In a letter written to Mr. Adams a week later, +Leech recommends a young gentleman to the care +of his friend, in the hope that if Mr. Adams has +“the opportunity, he will give the applicant something +to do in his profession.” The letter closes by +this announcement:</p> + +<p>“You will be glad to hear, I am sure, that +Mrs. Leech, <i>and my daughter</i>! are both ‘going +on’ famously.</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“Ever, my dear Charley,</p> +<p class="rgt1">“Yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt">“<span class="sc">John Leech</span>.</p> + +<p>“Given up hunting? Not a bit of it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page237" id="page237"></a>237</span></p> + +<p class="pt2 rgt f80">“January —, 1847.</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">My dear Charley</span>,</p> + +<p>    “Mark (Lemon) and I were talking only the +other day about beating up your quarters towards +the end of this month; and, with your permission, +if the frost goes, we intend to do so. We thought +of riding down—I on the old mare; and he on a +‘seven-and-sixpenny.’...</p> + +<p>“Is there anything in the shape of a good cob +that could hunt if wanted down in your parts? +Possibly I could get rid of the mare in the way of +a chop. I have been riding a nearly thoroughbred +mare for the last week on trial. A very nice thing, +but too much in this way.</p> + +<p>“I want something more of this kind—a good +one to go, and pleasant to ride.</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“Yours ever faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt">“J. L.”</p> + +<p class="pt2 rgt f80">“April 17, 1848.</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">My dear Charley</span>,</p> + +<p>    “.... Old Mark and I were special constables +on Monday last. You would have laughed +to see us on duty, trying the area gates, etc., +Mark continually finding excuses for taking a small +glass of ale or brandy and water. Policeman’s duty +is no joke. I had to patrol about from ten at night +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page238" id="page238"></a>238</span> +till one in the morning, and heartily sick of it I was. +It was only my loyalty and extreme love of peace +and order that made me stand it....</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“Ever yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt">“<span class="sc">John Leech.</span>”</p> + +<p class="pt2">My elderly readers will bear in mind April 10, +1848, and the monster petition of the Chartists, +which they were not allowed to present to Parliament +in the threatening form they had arranged, +with other alarming signs of that troubled time—the +flight of Louis Philippe, Continental thrones +tottering, and the rest of it.</p> + +<p>In his correspondence with Mr. Adams, Leech +constantly reminds his friend of his objection to +high-spirited horses. Under date February 18, +1849, he asks Mr. Adams if he can hire “an ’unter +from Ware.”</p> + +<p class="pt2">“I should prefer,” he adds, “something like the +old brown horse Mark had last year. If he comes, +of course he must have the same nag he had when +he was at Barkway; <i>but, mind</i>, I won’t have a beast +that pulls, or bolts, or any nonsense of the kind. +I come out for pleasure, and not to be worried. +Tell Mrs. Adams I shall not be half such an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page239" id="page239"></a>239</span> +objectionable visitor as I have been heretofore, +seeing that I have left off <span class="sc">SMOKING</span>!...</p> + +<p>“My very kind regards to Mrs. Adams, your +little ones, and my good friends in your neighbourhood.</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“Believe me, old fellow,</p> +<p class="rgt1">“Yours ever faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt">“<span class="sc">John Leech.</span>”</p> + +<p class="pt2 rgt f80">“February 7, 1850.</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Charley,</p> + +<p>    “I am longing to see you, and have a ride +across country with you. Do you think I could +have the horse Mark Lemon had when he was +down at Barkway? Or if I couldn’t have that one, +do you know of any other that would be equally +<span class="scs">TEMPERATE</span> and <span class="scs">WELL-BEHAVED</span>? I have no horse +at present. The last I had came down; and I am +rather particular in consequence.</p> + +<p>“Give me a line, old fellow, and let me know +when the hounds meet near you....</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt">“<span class="sc">John Leech.</span>”</p> + +<p class="pt2">One of Mr. Adams’ daughters, Charlotte, surnamed +Chatty—then a small child, now a lady +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page240" id="page240"></a>240</span> +whose age is borne so well as to make it difficult to +believe that she lived so long ago as 1850—whose +acquaintance I had the pleasure of making the +other day, told me of her frequent visits to the +Leeches, and of the never-ceasing care and tenderness +of Leech.</p> + +<p>In a letter from Broadstairs, written in the +autumn of 1850 to Mr. Adams, Leech says:</p> + +<p class="pt2">“You will be glad to hear that Chatty is as well +as possible, and is now going to have a long day’s +work (!) on the sands.”</p> + +<p class="pt2">Again, after a good deal of horsy talk:</p> + +<p class="pt2">“Mrs. Leech and Chatty with her will return for +good to Notting Hill on Saturday, when we shall +be glad to have her with us as long as you can +spare her. Apropos of dear Chatty, I am sure her +mamma will be glad to hear that she has been +uninterruptedly cheerful and well, and has certainly +proved herself one of the best-tempered, best-hearted +little creatures possible. She desires me +to send you all her best love and kisses....</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Ever faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt">“J. L.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page241" id="page241"></a>241</span></p> + +<p class="pt2 rgt f80">“31, Notting Hill Terrace,   <br /> +“February 18, 1852.</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Charley,</p> + +<p>    “It will give me the greatest pleasure to +come and see you. Mark (Lemon) says he will +accompany me at the end of this month. Will that +suit Mrs. Adams? I want much to <span class="sc">SEE</span> some +hunting, as I want some materials for the work I +am illustrating—indeed, I was going to propose a +run down to you myself. Will you let us know +when the hounds meet near you? Is the horse I +had before still alive, I wonder? or could you, if I +came, get me a horse ‘in every way suitable for a +timid, elderly gentleman’?</p> + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing: 5em;"> *****</p> + +<p>“I was very glad to hear from you, old boy. In +great haste, but with our united best regards to +Mrs. Adams and yourself.</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“Believe me,</p> +<p class="rgt1">“Ever yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt">“<span class="sc">John Leech.</span></p> + +<p class="sc f80">“C. F. Adams, Esq.”</p> + +<p class="pt2 rgt f80">“<i>Punch</i> Office, 85, Fleet Street,    <br /> +“Saturday, February 28, 1852.</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Charley,</p> + +<p>    “‘The change in the administration’ so +upset our arrangements that I could not settle +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page242" id="page242"></a>242</span> +what day to come down to you. I propose now +to come down to-morrow (Sunday) evening, so if +you can get me a rocking-horse, or a clothes-horse, +or any horse excessively quiet and accommodating, +I will go out with you on Monday. Mark, having +an appointment early on Monday with ‘her Majesty,’ +or somebody, will come on Tuesday, to hunt on +Wednesday, and back again on Thursday morning. +All this, of course, if it suits your convenience. At +any rate, I will come to-morrow, and then if there is +any difficulty, we can send up to town. With +kindest regards to Mrs. Adams,</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“Believe me always,</p> +<p class="rgt1">“Yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt">“<span class="sc">John Leech.</span>”</p> + +<p class="pt2 rgt f80">“31, Notting Hill Terrace,    <br /> +“Wednesday, March 17, 1852.</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Charley,</p> + +<p>    “I had almost made up my mind to come +down on Friday evening to hunt on Saturday; but +it would suit me infinitely better to come at the end +of the week following, as I am just now in the +agonies of my periodical work; so let me know +when the meets are, and in the meantime I will peg +away and get my business done so as to have a +comfortable day with you. If I came on Friday, I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page243" id="page243"></a>243</span> +should have to work day and night before I went, +and come back directly to work day and night again, +which is not a pleasant state of things; I hope, +therefore, that we shall be able to see the hounds +next week. I don’t think Lemon would be able to +come, as he is busy moving; but I will ask him. I +will make you the sketch of the house, or of anything +else you like, when I come.</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“Believe me,</p> +<p class="rgt1">“Ever yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt sc">“John Leech.</p> + +<p class="f80 sc">“C. F. Adams, Esq.</p> + +<p class="pt2">“Look in this week’s <i>Punch</i> for a sketch on the +Royston Hills.”</p> + +<p class="rgt f80">“31, Notting Hill Terrace,    <br /> +“Wednesday, July 7, 1852.</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Charley,</p> + +<p>    “I congratulate both of you most heartily +and cordially. Mrs. Adams I hope is well, and +will keep so, I trust. I will take upon myself to say +that I don’t know any man more thoroughly capable +of understanding and enjoying domestic happiness +than yourself; and, moreover, I don’t know any +man who more thoroughly deserves to have it. +You wish it had been a boy, do you? Well, never +mind; the son and heir will make his appearance in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page244" id="page244"></a>244</span> +good time, I dare say. For my part, my unhappy +experience makes me love little girls.</p> + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing: 5em;"> *****</p> + +<p>“Pray give my kindest regards to Mrs. Adams, +and my love to Chatty, who is to kiss the baby for +me, and</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“Believe me, my dear Charley,</p> +<p class="rgt1">“Always yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt sc">“John Leech.</p> + +<p class="sc f80">“C. F. Adams, Esq.”</p> + +<p class="rgt f80">“Barlow, Derbyshire,    <br /> +“July 31, 1852.</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Charley,</p> + +<p>    “You will see from the above address that I +am still rusticating. I expect to be in rooms soon +after the 12th of August, and then, after I have done +my month’s work, I am your man. You say where +... Don’t make yourself uncomfortable about the +quantity of sport; I shall be quite satisfied with +what you offer me....</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Yours always faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt">“<span class="sc">John Leech.</span>”</p> + +<p class="pt2">Here follows an admirable sketch of Mr. Adams +waking up Leech with, “Now, Jack, my boy! +There’s no time to lose; we’ve ten miles to go to +cover.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page245" id="page245"></a>245</span></p> + +<div class="center ptb2"><img style="width:550px; height:513px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img268.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p class="rgt f80">“Tuesday, December 14, 1852.</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">My dear Charley Boy</span>,</p> + +<p>    “Hip! hip! hurrah! The almanack is +finished, and now for a day with the Puckeridge.</p> + +<p>“I shall come down if you will take me in on +Friday evening, to hunt on Saturday and Monday, +I hope. Mark talked of coming. I wish he would. +He says he should not ride, but that’s all nonsense. +Do you think Pattison has got a horse that would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page246" id="page246"></a>246</span> +carry him? Oh, I have had a rare benefit of work! +I have been positively at it ever since I saw you. +I want freshening up, I assure you.... Lots of +fresh work, old fellow, so I think I may manage a +<i>real</i> horse soon.</p> + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing: 5em;"> *****</p> + +<p>“With kindest regards.</p> +<p class="rgt">“Ever faithfully yours,</p> +<p class="rgt sc">“John Leech.”</p> + +<p class="pt2 rgt f80">“Notting Hill Terrace,    <br /> +“January 26, 1853.</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Charley,</p> + +<p>    “If you could ride my horse to-morrow +(Thursday), pray do; it would save your own, and +do her good. And the meet is close to you—Langley +Green. I should have written before, but +I have been harassed with work beyond measure. +And as it is, the first number of ‘Handley Cross’ +cannot come out until March. Mind you have the +mare well worked, there’s a good fellow, as I don’t +want, like our friend Briggs, to find her disagreeably +fresh.</p> + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing: 5em;"> *****</p> + +<p>    “Believe me always yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt sc">“John Leech.</p> + +<p class="f80 sc">“C. F. Adams, Esq.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page247" id="page247"></a>247</span></p> + +<p class="pt2 rgt f80">“Saturday, February 26, 1853.</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Charley,</p> + +<p>    “I suppose the frost has departed in the +country, and that you have now what is called ‘open +weather.’ It is very disagreeable here—wet, cold, +and boisterous.</p> + +<p>“However, if you can spare time (after riding +your own, of course), I wish you would give the +mare a benefit. I expect she will otherwise be a +great deal too much for me.</p> + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing: 5em;"> *****</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“I am, my dear Charley,</p> +<p class="rgt1">“Yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt sc">“John Leech.</p> + +<p class="f80 sc">“C. F. Adams, Esq.”</p> + +<p class="pt2 rgt f80">“32, Brunswick Square, +“Saturday, January 21, 1854.</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Charley,</p> + +<p>    “Thank you for your note. I <i>can’t</i> come +down to-morrow, but I hope after next week to +make up for lost time. I have got through some +work that has been fidgeting me. I shall have +a little more leisure. The meet on Monday is +Dassett’s, I see, so pray give it the mare; I have +been so queer myself that I shall want her particularly +‘tranquil.’ I have sacrificed the moustaches +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page248" id="page248"></a>248</span> +for fear of frightening the horses in the field. They +were getting too tremendous.</p> + +<p>“<i>If</i>, <i>if</i> I can get away next week at all, depend +upon it I will, for I want fresh air and a little horse +exercise.</p> + +<p>“With kindest regards, old fellow,</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“Believe me always yours faithfully,</p> + +<p class="rgt sc">“<span class="sc">John Leech</span>.</p> + +<p class="f80">“<span class="sc">C. F. Adams, Esq.</span>”</p> + +<p class="f80 rgt pt2">“Saturday, December 22, 1855.</p> + +<p class="sc">“<span class="sc">My dear Charley</span>,</p> + +<p>    “How is the country? I suppose no hunting +as yet, for I have not received any card. The +weather here to-day is mild and wet. I am working +away in the hope of getting a day or two by-and-by +comfortably. In the meantime, if there is anything +going on, give my horse a turn across country, that’s +a good fellow.</p> + +<p>“With kindest regards, believe me,</p> + +<p class="rgt1">“Yours faithfully,</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“J. L.</p> + +<p class="pt2">“If you can’t spare time to hunt the mare, would +it not be a good thing to send her to Patmore, and +make him ride her? But do you attend to her if +you can manage it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page249" id="page249"></a>249</span></p> + +<p class="rgt pt2 f80">“8, St. Nicholas Cliff, Scarbro’,    <br /> +“August 30, 1858.</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Charley,</p> + +<p>    “Your note was forwarded here, and I only +found it on my return from Ireland, where I have +been for the last three weeks. The consequence is +that I am, of course, in rather a muddle with my +work, and I am afraid I must forego the pleasure of +shooting with you—at any rate, for the early part of +the season; so pray do not deprive other friends of +sport on my account. I shall hope to have a day +or two with you before the season is over. I am +not a very greedy sportsman, you know, and as long +as I get a good walk am pretty well satisfied. I am +sorry you have been so unwell—you should really +give yourself a holiday. The bow should be unstrung +sometimes. I know I find it must. I wish +you could have seen me catch a <i>salmon</i> in Ireland—a +regular salmon! When I say catch, I should say +hook, rather, for he was too much for me, and after +ten minutes’ struggle he bolted with my tackle. It +was really a tremendous sensation....</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“Believe me always,</p> +<p class="rgt1">“Yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="rgt">“<span class="sc">John Leech.</span></p> + +<p class="f80 sc">“C. F. Adams, Esq.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page250" id="page250"></a>250</span></p> + +<p class="rgt pt2 f80">“White Horse, Baldock,    <br /> +“Friday evening, ——, 1858.</p> + +<p class="sc">“<span class="sc">My dear Charley</span>,</p> + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing: 5em;"> *****</p> + +<p>    “For the present I have arranged with Little +to make this place my headquarters, it is so handy +to the train, and I can come so much quicker and +later to Hitchin. The slow railway journeys take +it out of me, so that my pleasure is almost destroyed +by the fatigue of travelling and bother to get off. I +hope, nevertheless, that we shall have many evenings +together to talk over the <i>tremendous runs</i> that we +hope to have. I have bought a horse and brought +it down here. I hope you will be out to-morrow to +see it. I like it very much; it is a most excellent +hackney, and sufficiently good-looking, although not +perfect, I suppose; and it is represented to me as +being a temperate hunter in addition to his other +qualities. Well, we shall see. The black mare I +shall send to Tattersall’s next week. She was as +fresh as could be last Saturday, and I was quite glad +I had not sold her; but, alas! she was as lame in +the afternoon as possible, and next morning was a +pretty spectacle! She would not do at all. So much +for horseflesh.</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“With kindest regards,</p> +<p class="rgt1">“Yours always,</p> +<p class="rgt">“J. L.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page251" id="page251"></a>251</span></p> + +<p class="rgt pt2 f80">“32, Brunswick Square, W.C.,    <br /> +“November 20, 1862.</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Charley,</p> + +<p>    “If you <i>ever</i> have the time—which I never +have—I should feel so glad if you would go some +day and see how the ‘party’ at Kensington has +done his work. I suppose ‘that little form’ of paying +the bill must very soon be gone through, and I +should like to know from a competent authority that +the work has been well and properly done.</p> + +<p>“How about the hunting? I am continually +tormented here by noble sportsmen going by my +window in full fig.</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“Yours always,</p> +<p class="rgt">“J. L.”</p> + +<p class="rgt pt2 f80">“6, The Terrace, Kensington,    <br /> +“November 27, 1862.</p> + +<p class="sc">“My dear Charley,</p> + +<p>    “I am obliged to go to St. Leonards to-night, +but I should be very glad if you would to-morrow, +Friday (as you propose), look at my new +house. In the corner of one of the new rooms I see +it looks a little damp, although they considered it +dry before they papered. I must say I am pleased +with the new residence, and I think by degrees I +shall be able to make it pretty comfortable. We +shall hardly get in here, I expect, much before +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page252" id="page252"></a>252</span> +Christmas. There is yet so much to do. I shall +be very glad of any hints about improvements that +may occur to you.</p> + +<p>“Kind regards, and believe me,</p> + +<p class="rgt2">“Always yours,</p> +<p class="rgt">“J. L.”</p> + +<p class="pt2">There is amongst the pictures of “Life and +Character” a drawing of a sportsman who has been +thrown from his horse. He has fallen upon his +head, and as he raises it, stunned and bewildered, +and but half conscious, the sensations that must +have possessed him are realized for us in a manner +so marvellous, so wonderful in its originality and +truth, as to convince one that the accident must +have happened to the man who drew the picture; +and this was the case, for the fallen man was Leech +himself, says Mr. Adams, who in charging a fence +was thrown, his horse falling at the same time. If I +had been told that the sensations inevitable under +the circumstances were required to be reproduced by +pencil and paper, I should have said such a feat was +beyond the reach of art; but there they are! As +the prostrate man looks up, he sees sparks of fire, +horse’s head, legs, hoofs mingled together in a whirl +of confusion round his prostrate figure.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page253" id="page253"></a>253</span></p> + +<div class="center ptb2"><img style="width:850px; height:551px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img276.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page254" id="page254"></a>254</span></p> + +<p>No doubt the work he undertook for <i>Bell’s Life +in London</i>, a long-established and long-discontinued +paper, in which sport of all kinds was the most +prominent feature—and which occupied much of +Leech’s time in his youthful days—contributed to +the creation of a taste and love for field sports that +always distinguished him. Quite a band of comic +artists, including Cruikshank, Kenny Meadows, +“Phiz,” Seymour, and Leech, contributed sketches +illustrative of a variety of subjects by a variety of +authors; Leech’s work being easily distinguishable +from that of his brethren of the pencil.</p> + +<div class="center art1"><img style="width:150px; height:35px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img001.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page255" id="page255"></a>255</span></p> + +<p class="chap2 center">CHAPTER XIII.</p> + +<p class="center scs">“COMIC GRAMMAR” AND “COMIC HISTORY.”</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc chap1">The</span> friendship, begun in their student-days at +St. Bartholomew’s, between Leech and Percival +Leigh flourished in renewed strength by the discovery +of similarity of taste—Leigh unable to draw, +but possessing a truly humorous pen; so the friends +“laid their heads together,” the result being the +production of the “Comic Latin Grammar,” letter-press +by Leigh, illustrations by Leech. The first +intention of the authors was that this should be a +mere skit, a trifling brochure, consisting of a few +pages; but, as so often happens, the work grew +under their hands, and when published in 1840 it +had assumed somewhat formidable proportions, and +was followed by a work of similar character, with the +title of “The Comic English Grammar.”</p> + +<p>The “Comic English Grammar” was a work full +of pleasant humour, charmingly illustrated by Leech +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page256" id="page256"></a>256</span> +“with upwards of fifty characteristic woodcuts.” It +is curious to observe in these drawings the contrast +that they afford to the artist’s later and more perfect +work. There is a timidity, and what we call a hardness, +from which the sketches in “Pictures of Life +and Character” are entirely free; the general drawing, +too, is faulty, but the humour and character are +all there.</p> + +<div class="center ptb2"><img style="width:500px; height:602px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img279.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p>The first illustration, given above, is from a ballad +called “Billy Taylor,” popular in my young days, in +which Billy’s true love—with the reluctance to part +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page257" id="page257"></a>257</span> +from him common to persons suffering from that +passion—disguises herself as a man before the mast, +and shares the dangers of the sea with her sailor-lover:</p> + +<table class="reg f90" summary="poem"><tr><td> <div class="poemr"> +<p>“Ven as the Captain comed for to hear on’t,</p> +<p class="i05">Wery much applauded vot she’d done.”</p> +</div> </td></tr></table> + +<div class="center ptb2"><img style="width:500px; height:602px; vertical-align: middle;" src="images/img280.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<p>The verb “applauded” has here no nominative +case, whereas it ought to have been governed by the +pronoun “he.” “He very much applauded,” etc., +says the writer of the “Comic Grammar” for our +instruction. The second example, given above, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page258" id="page258"></a>258</span> +seems to me capital fooling, and an excellent proof +of the necessity for care in punctuation and accent.</p> + +<p>“Imagine,” says the writer, “an actor commencing +Hamlet’s famous soliloquy thus:</p> + +<p class="center f90">“‘To be or not to be; that is. The question,’ etc.</p> + +<p class="noind">Or saying, in the person of Duncan in ‘Macbeth’:</p> + +<p class="center f90">“‘This castle hath a pleasant seat, the air.’</p> + +<p class="noind">Or, as the usurper himself, exclaiming:</p> + +<table class="reg f90" summary="poem"><tr><td> <div class="poemr"> +<p>“‘The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!</p> +<p class="i05">Where got’s thou that goose? Look!’”</p> +</div> </td></tr></table> + +<p>Here we have the fault of <i>hardness</i> that I speak +of, and something of feeble drawing, but the humour +is perfect.</p> + +<p>After the publication of the “Comic Grammar,” +written by Gilbert à Beckett, one of the <i>Punch</i> staff, +a somewhat similar experiment upon the public +and on a larger scale was tried by the same author +in the issue of a “Comic History of England.” +This venture was warmly opposed at its inception +by Jerrold, whose wrath at the idea of burlesquing +historical personages was expressed with vehemence. +Gilbert à Beckett persisted, however, and the history +appeared, with over three hundred illustrations on +wood and steel by John Leech. The book is, as +might be expected, very light reading, containing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page259" id="page259"></a>259</span> +many puns and much play upon words. Leech’s +work seems to me to be slight, hurried, and even +careless, compared with that of his later time; but +the spirit of rollicking fun with which grave historical +incidents are treated, and the humorous satire +that the principal personages receive at the hands of +the illustrator, make the “Comic History of England” +amusing enough. The following extract, with the +drawing that illustrates it, will show the truth of my +estimate of both.</p> + +<p>“A story is told of a certain Fair Rosamond, and, +though there is no doubt of its being a story from +beginning to end, it is impossible to pass it over +in English history. Henry, it was alleged, was +enamoured of a certain Miss Clifford—if she can +be called a certain Miss Clifford, when she was +really a very doubtful character. She was the +daughter of a baron on the banks of the Wye, +when, without a why or a wherefore, the King took +her away, and transplanted the Flower of Hereford, +as she well deserved to be called, to the Bower of +Woodstock. In this bower he constructed a labyrinth +something like the Maze at Rosherville, and +as there was no man stationed on an elevation in the +centre to direct the sovereign which way to go, nor +exclaim, ‘Right, if you please!’ ‘Straight on!’ +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page260" id="page260"></a>260</span> +‘You’re right now, sir!’ ‘Left!’ ‘Right again!’ etc., +etc., his Majesty had adopted the plan of dragging +one of Rosamond’s reels of silk along with him when +he left the spot, so that it formed a guide for him on +his way back again. This tale of silk is indeed +a most precious piece of entanglement, but it was +perhaps necessary for the winding up of the story. +While we cannot receive it as part of the thread of +history, we accept it as a means of accounting +for Eleanor’s having got a clue to the retreat of +Rosamond.</p> + +<p>“The Queen, hearing of the silk, resolved naturally +enough to unravel it. She accordingly started for +Woodstock one afternoon, and, suspecting something +wrong, took a large bowl of poison in one +hand and a stout dagger in the other. Having +found Fair Rosamond, she held the poniard to the +heart and the bowl to the lips of that unfortunate +young person, who, it is said, preferred the black +draught to the steel medicine.”</p> + +<p>Later on in the history we have another good +example of Leech’s humour. King Edward, having +subdued the Welsh, “endeavoured to propitiate his +newly acquired subjects by becoming a resident in +the conquered country. His wife Eleanor gave +birth to a son in the castle of Caernarvon, and he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page261" id="page261"></a>261</span> +availed himself of the circumstance to introduce the +infant as a native production, giving him the title of +Prince of Wales, which has ever since been held by +the eldest son of the British sovereign.”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:500px; height:591px" src="images/img284.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">Queen Eleanor and Fair Rosamond.</td></tr></table> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:500px; height:591px" src="images/img285.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">King Edward introducing his Son as Prince of Wales to +his Newly-acquired Subjects.</td></tr></table> + +<p>A well-known historical scene is parodied as +follows: Henry IV. being ill, “the Prince of Wales +was sitting up with him in the temporary capacity of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page262" id="page262"></a>262</span> +nurse,” says Mr. à Becket. “The son, however, +seemed rather to be waiting for his father’s death +than hoping for the prolongation of his life; and the +King having gone off in a fit, the Prince, instead of +calling for assistance or giving any aid himself, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page263" id="page263"></a>263</span> +heartlessly took that opportunity to see how he +should look in the crown, which always hung on +a peg in the royal bedchamber. Young Henry was +figuring away before a cheval glass with the regal +bauble on his head, and was exclaiming, ‘Just the +thing, upon my honour!’ when the elder Henry, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page264" id="page264"></a>264</span> +happening to recover, sat up in bed and saw the +conduct of his offspring.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:500px; height:577px" src="images/img286.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">Unseemly Conduct of Henry, Prince of Wales.</td></tr></table> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:470px; height:592px" src="images/img287.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">The Duke of Gloucester goes into Mourning for his +Little Nephews.</td></tr></table> + +<p>“‘Hallo!’ cried the King, ‘who gave you leave to +put that on? I think you might have left it alone +till I’ve done with it.’”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page265" id="page265"></a>265</span></p> + +<p>The savage and hypocritical character of Richard +III. afforded Leech an opportunity for satire in +his design of that monarch, when still Duke of +Gloucester, in the shape of a crocodile shedding +tears for the death of the two Princes in the Tower.</p> + +<p>“Richard,” says the chronicler, “by whom the +outward decencies of life were very scrupulously +observed, in order to make up for the inner deficiencies +of his mind, determined to go into mourning +for the young Princes, and repaired to the same +<i>maison de deuil</i> which he had honoured with his +presence on a former occasion when requiring the +‘trappings of woe’ for himself and his retainers on +the death of his dear brother.”</p> + +<p>With the escape of Mary, Queen of Scots, I must +close the extracts from the “Comic History of +England.”</p> + +<p>“When the Queen was imprisoned at Lochleven, +a certain George Douglas,” says the historian, “with +the sentimentality peculiar to seventeen, fell sheepishly +in love with the handsome Mary. She gave +some encouragement to the gawky youth, but rather +with a view of getting him to aid her in her escape +than out of any regard to the over-sensitive stripling. +Going to his brother’s bedroom in the night, the boy +took the keys from the basket in which they were +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page266" id="page266"></a>266</span> +deposited, and, letting Mary out, he handed her to a +skiff and took her for a row, without thinking of the +row his conduct was leading to.”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figcenter"><img style="width:470px; height:607px" src="images/img289.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption sc">Mary’s Elopement.</td></tr></table> + +<p>A considerable interval of time elapsed between +the publication of à Beckett’s “Comic English +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page267" id="page267"></a>267</span> +Grammar” and the same writer’s “Comic History +of England,” the former being produced in 1840, +and the latter seven years afterwards; but as there +is little or no appreciable difference between the two +works, either as regards the literary or artistic merit, +I have thought it well to introduce them in this +place.</p> + +<p>These efforts show but one side of Leech’s many-sided +power. It was in “The Children of the +<i>Mo</i>bility,” a satire on a production just then published, +in which the children of the <i>no</i>bility were put +before the world in all the splendour of their aristocratic +surroundings, that Leech’s genius had full +play, the little Duke affording an instructive contrast +to the street arab, and the shivering, half-naked +beggar-girl becoming infinitely pathetic in her rags. +This work was executed in lithography, consisting of +seven prints; and though, as works of art, they +bear no comparison to the wood-drawings of a later +time—they are not even so good as the “Fly-Leaves” +published at the <i>Punch</i> Office later on—still, +comparatively imperfectly as they are rendered, +they show the artist’s intense sympathy with suffering +childhood, as well as enjoyment in the games +and “larks” by which the sufferings are for a time +at least forgotten.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page268" id="page268"></a>268</span></p> + +<p>I now approach the period when the establishment +of a comic newspaper was destined to afford Leech +opportunities for the display of his powers, opportunities +of which he availed himself with a prodigality +almost as marvellous as the powers.</p> + +<hr class="art" /> +<p class="center f80">END OF VOL. I.</p> + +<hr class="art" /> + +<table class="reg f80" summary="poem"><tr><td> <div class="poemr"> +<p>BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.</p> +<p class="i16"><i>J. D. & Co.</i></p> + +</div> </td></tr></table> +<div class="pt2"> </div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of John Leech, His Life and Work. 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