EARLY WORK.
It was at St. Bartholomew's that Leech made acquaintance, which soon
ripened into friendship, with Albert Smith, Percival Leigh (a future
comrade on the _Punch_ Staff, and author of the "Comic Latin Grammar,"
"Pips' Diary," etc.), Gilbert a Beckett and many others, all or most of
whom served as models for that unerring pencil.
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.
The art of drawing upon wood, to which Leech in his later years almost
entirely confined himself, dates 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 these sort of things
are not in our way, you see; there is no demand," and so on.
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.
The delicate touch and the grasp of character peculiar to the artist are
recognised at once in many examples.
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.
The title of this book is "The Life and _Work_ 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 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 _Punch_ 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 _Punch_ 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 _Punch_ 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 _Punch_ 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 of the justice of the artist's claim to be
remembered for all time.
Leech's hatred of organ-grinding began very early in his career.
"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."
The drawing which appeared in _Punch_ 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
_Punch_ 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.
In 1844 there appeared an irresistible little cut, the precursor of so
many admirable variations of skating and sliding incidents.
"NOW, LOBSTER, KEEP THE POT A-BILING."
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?
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 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.
The next print illustrates a paper in _Punch_ called "Physicians and
General Practitioners."
"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.
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 an "impudent quack," and the
general practitioner's replying to the physician that he is "a
contemptible humbug."
[Illustration]
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 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.
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 equally powerful article in the _Daily News_, by Mr.
Parkinson. Parliament was aroused, and public executions ceased.
[Illustration: "WHERE 'AVE WE BIN? WHY, TO SEE THE COVE 'UNG, TO BE
SURE!"]
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?
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.
To those unacquainted with the "Caudle Lectures" by Douglas Jerrold,
which appeared at this time in _Punch_, 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
_Punch_ 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.
"THE MRS. CAUDLE OF THE HOUSE OF LORDS."
"What do you say? _Thank heaven! you are going to enjoy the recess,
and you'll be rid of me for some months?_ 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).
[Illustration: "AN EYE TO BUSINESS."]
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, 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.
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:
"Oh, is there not something, dear Augustus, truly sublime in the
warring of the elements?"
[Illustration: "BUT AUGUSTUS'S HEART WAS TOO FULL TO SPEAK."]
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 the unhappy Augustus is described. He could not speak in
reply to his bride's appeal; in the words of the poet:
"She gazed upon the wave,
Sublime she declared it;
But no reply he gave--
He could not have dared it.
"Oh, then, 'Steward!' he cried,
With deepest emotion;
Then tottered to the side,
And leant o'er the ocean."
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."
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 L25 shares, on which L8
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 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 _Times_, that my L8 shares--L17 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.
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:
"I SAY, JIM, WHAT'S A PANIC?"
"BLOWED IF I KNOW; BUT THERE IS VON TO BE SEEN IN THE CITY."
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
long the esteemed editor of _Punch_, 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. 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.
"Well," said I, "if you will tell me who you are, I will tell you who I
am and what I am."
"Oh," was the reply, "I think I know what you are; but what's your
name?"
"You know what I am?" said I, surprised; "what am I?"
"Well, you are in the same line that we are, I fancy."
"And what line is that?"
"The army tailoring. Am I right?"
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.
We now come to the first of those precocious 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.
[Illustration: "SIR! PLEASE, MR.! SIR! YOU'VE FORGOT THE DOOR-KEY!"]
Well may the governor stare with open-mouthed 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.
[Illustration: ETON BOY (_loq._): "Come, governor! just one toast--'The
Ladies'!"]
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 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.
"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. 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.
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.
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 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.
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 "_go on with his imperdence_!"
[Illustration: "THE RETURN FROM THE DERBY."
SMITH: "Hollo! Poster, ain't you precious drunk, rather?"
POSTBOY: "Drunk! not a bit of it!"]
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 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 coat--a momentary movement caught with consummate skill.
[Illustration: "THE DERBY EPIDEMIC."]
"GENTLEMEN,
"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.
"I am, gentlemen,
"Yours very obediently,
"PHILLIP COX."
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.
Comment on this wonderful youth is needless. 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.
[Illustration:
PASTRYCOOK: "What have you had, sir?"
BOY: "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."]
[Illustration:
"ALARMING SYMPTOMS ON EATING BOILED BEEF AND GOOSEBERRY-PIE."
LITTLE BOY: "Oh lor, ma! I feel just exactly as if my jacket was
buttoned."]
If "a fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind," the boy in the following
drawing would have delighted in the society of the _gourmet_ 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 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.
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 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!
"RATHER ALARMING."
LADY: "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."
YOUNG CORYDON: "Oh, gracious!"
Leech treats--how admirably!--another greedy boy, or, rather, two greedy
boys.
JACKY: "Hallo, Tommy! what 'ave you got there?"
TOMMY: "Hoyster!"
JACKY: "Oh, give us a bit!"
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.
[Illustration:
"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."]
If ever man suffered from _embarras de richesse_, 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
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 "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.
[Illustration:
"AWFUL APPARITION TO A GENTLEMAN WHILST SHAVING IN THE EDGWARE ROAD,
SEPTEMBER 29, 1846."]
The statue of the Duke of Wellington, which so long disgraced Hyde Park
Corner, has disappeared, 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.
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.
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 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.
NURSEMAID: "Lawk! there goes Charley, and he's took his ma's parasol!
What _will_ missus say?"
[Illustration:
WAITER: "Gent in No. 4 likes a holder and a thinner wine, does he? I
wonder how he'll like this bin!"]
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 Taste." A guest seems to
have found his port too new and strong.
[Illustration:
"HOLLO! HI! HERE, SOMEBODY! I'VE TURNED ON THE HOT WATER, AND I CAN'T
TURN IT OFF AGAIN!"]
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 him, screaming in deadly terror
for "somebody" to come to his rescue.
[Illustration: "SYMPTOMS OF A MASQUERADE."
BETTER-HALF (_loq._): "Is this what you call sitting up with a sick
friend, Mr. Wilkins?"]
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 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 _lady's_ 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.
[Illustration:
JUVENILE: "I say, Charley, that's a jeuced fine gurl talking to young
Fipps! I should like to catch her under the mistletoe."]
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
_jeunesse dore_ 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 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 _young_ Fipps! Delightful little dog! and no
less delightful is his friend Charley, who smiles encouragement, and
would do likewise. These works 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 create a
sensation indeed if she appeared in a turban like that which bedecks the
sitting figure.
[Illustration:
JUVENILE: "Uncle!"
UNCLE: "Now, then, what is it? This is the fourth time you've woke me
up, sir."
JUVENILE: "Oh! just put a few coals on the fire and pass the wine,
that's a good old chap!"]
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.
[Illustration: "THE RISING GENERATION."
JUVENILE: "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."]
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
modifications--the same mannish and amusingly vain creature as his
confreres, 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.
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 _do_ think that
perfect maid deserved a more presentable lover than the pudding-faced,
knock-kneed soldier who is personating the "bit of ribbin." 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.
SERVANT-MAID: "If you please, mem, could I go out for half an hour to
buy a bit of ribbin, mem?"
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.
Domestic troubles and misadventures were represented by Leech in many
examples, with a sympathetic humour that never wearies. A party may 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.
Or the dinner is served, when an alarming announcement is made:
SERVANT (_rushing in_): "Oh, goodness gracious, master! There's the
kitchen chimley afire, and two parish ingins a-knocking at the street
door."
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!
[Illustration:
DOMESTIC (_soliloquizing_): "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.)]
I must refer my readers to _Punch's_ 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 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 you to
call. Can I offer you anything? A basin of gruel, or a glass of cough
mixture? Don't say no!"
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.
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.
[Illustration:
JUVENILE: "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."]
1848 witnessed the fall of the French throne and the tottering of
others in Europe. It was a terrible 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 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.
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!
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.
COCHRANITE: "Hooray! Veeve ler liberty!! Harm yourselves!! To the
palis!! Down with heverythink!!!!"
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).
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.
[Illustration:
SPECIAL CONSTABLE: "Now mind, you know--if I kill you, it's nothing;
but if you kill me, by Jove! it's murder!"]
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 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.
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
said nothing, but in _Punch_ of the week following his idea of the
difficulty appeared.
[Illustration: "RECREATIONS IN NATURAL HISTORY."
FIRST NATURALIST: "What, the s-s-she-sherpent a-an (hic!)
Ich-(hic!)-thyosaurus! Nonshence!"
SECOND NATURALIST: "Who said Ich-(hic!)-Ichthy-o-saurus? I said
Plesi-o-(hic!)-saurus plainenuff."]
The cabman who doesn't know his way about London is exceptional, but he
is met with occasionally, 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.
[Illustration: "CABMAN IS SUPPOSED TO HAVE TAKEN A WRONG TURNING, THAT'S
ALL."]
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 maid at the
seaside--the girl, French from top to toe; the flunkey, a most perfect
type of the class.
FRENCH MAID: "You like--a--ze--seaside--M'sieu Jean Thomas?"
JOHN THOMAS: "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."
The immortal Briggs made his first appearance in _Punch_ 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.
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.
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.
[Illustration]
For a further acquaintance with Mr. Briggs's performances 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 _Punch_, where they will find entertainment that is inexhaustible.