_PUNCH'S_ WRITERS: 1841-2.
Percival Leigh--His Medical Shrewdness--Unsuspected Wealth--His
Ability and Work--His Decay--Kindness of the Proprietors to the Old
Pensioner--Albert Smith--Inspires varied Sentiments--Jerrold's
Hostility--"Lord Smith"--Parts Company--H. A. Kennedy--Dr.
Maginn--John Oxenford--W. M. Thackeray--His First
Contribution--"Miss Tickletoby" Fails to Please--He Withdraws--And
Resumes--Rivalry with Jerrold--As an Illustrator--A Mysterious
Picture--Thackeray's Contributions--And Pseudonyms--Quaint
Orthography--"The Snobs of England"--He Tires of _Punch_--His
Motives for Resignation--The Letter--Death of "Dear Old
Thack"--_Punch's_ Tribute to his Memory.
How Percival Leigh (otherwise called "Paul Prendergast" in those early
days) was sought out by George Hodder, on the strength of the "Comic
Latin Grammar," and how, after a judicious pause, he joined the Staff of
_Punch_, has already been made known. He was twenty-four when, in 1835,
he took his M.R.C.S. He had been a medical student of "Bart's," but had
already abandoned, in great measure, the lancet for the pen. He sent in
as his first contribution the article to accompany Leech's "Foreign
Affairs;" and though he became best known as a humorist, as a doctor he
was in his early days equally to be respected. Mr. Arthur à Beckett
tells the following stories of his powers in the direction of diagnosis
and surgery:--
Although he had given up practice for a number of years, he was an
excellent doctor. Sir James Paget has told me that when he and "the
Professor" [Leigh's nickname at the Table] were fellow-students at
"Bart's," the latter was considered quite the best man of his year.
He was admirable at diagnosis, and I shall never forget one of his
prognostications. He was in the company of a number of
_littérateurs_ and artists who were dining together. A well-known
dramatist was expected, and did not turn up to time. The absentee
was allowed ten minutes' grace, and then dinner was commenced
without him. After a while he came in full of apologies. He had
missed one train (he lived in the suburbs), and would have missed
another had he not run for it. And then he laughingly explained to
"the Professor" that he thought he had sprained his leg. Percival
Leigh, who had been looking at him with keen attention since his
entrance, asked him a couple of questions; and having received
replies to them, spoke as follows: "My dear fellow, if you will
take my advice, you will go home at once in a cab and get to bed.
Send for your doctor and make him overhaul you. But call special
attention to the sprain." The dramatist, who was one of "the
Professor's" oldest friends, obeyed orders and departed. Then the
rest of the company twitted the doctor on the clever ruse "of
getting rid of one who deserved to be punished for keeping the soup
waiting." Of course, it was only chaff, but "the Professor" took it
seriously. "No, my boys," he replied, very gravely, "I did not send
him away on our account, but in his own interest. Of course, while
there is life there is hope; but, unless I am very greatly
mistaken, we shall never see him again." And "the Professor" was
right. Within a month the dramatist had joined the silent majority.
The second story about my dear old friend is not so grim as its
predecessor.
Mr. Percival Leigh, when he was more than seventy years old, was
knocked down by a passing vehicle as he was crossing the road. He
was immediately picked up by a policeman and conveyed in a cab to
the nearest hospital. "The Professor," who was covered in mud,
asked to be taken home, but the constable would not listen to him.
So he was carried into the accident ward. After a while he was seen
by the house-surgeon and his assistant. The two medicos entirely
ignored "the Professor," and gave their exclusive attention to his
leg. "I think you are wrong," said Mr. Leigh, in a mild tone of
voice, after he had listened to their conversation for a few
moments. The doctors paid not the slightest attention to the
observation, and continued their investigations. Now "the
Professor" was the most mild and kindly of gentlemen--courteous to
a degree, and as polished as a traditional Frenchman--but when he
was roused he was--well, emphatically roused. He attempted a second
remonstrance, but with the same result. The two medicos calmly
ignored him. "Drop that leg, you confounded blockheads!" he
thundered out suddenly. "Can't you see, you idiots, that I have
fractured my ----," and then he supplied a highly technical and
scientific description of his accident. The two medicos stared at
"the Professor" in blank astonishment. Then "the Professor"
abandoned his incognito, and gave his name and quality. "You see,
gentlemen," he said, resuming his customary courteous tone, "I
venture to believe that I know more about my leg than you do. It
has been under my personal observation all my life, and I
consequently have given more time to studying its constitution and
idiosyncracies than you, naturally (with all your numerous
engagements), could afford to devote to such a purpose!"
Leigh had a philosopher's head and a fine face. In later life he was
extremely careless in his person--so much so that when he died Mr.
Bradbury, with his usual thoughtfulness, went to the funeral with a
cheque-book in his pocket, intending, if necessary, to pay the
undertaker's expenses. His surprise, therefore, was great when he
learned that "the Professor" had died worth from ten to eleven thousand
pounds. Leigh, who lived for some years in Hammersmith Road, in a house
which, judged from its exterior, promised little comfort within, was a
profound Shakespearean and a good classical scholar, and from these
attainments he earned the sobriquet by which he was known. He vied with
Jerrold himself in his knowledge of the Bard, and was fond of spouting
the poets, classic and English, with the least possible excuse, breaking
out into verse with a loud voice, utterly oblivious of his companions.
It was he who introduced into the pages of _Punch_ the assumption of
scholarship in its readers, and so acquired at once for the paper a
position never held by any other humorous journal in this country. His
work, which for many years averaged a column and a half each week,
included nearly every sort of contribution known to _Punch_, including,
in 1845, his striking "Pauper Song"--the wail of the poor man who
prefers the prison to the workhouse, the second stanza running thus:--
"There shall I get the larger crust,
The warmer house-room there;
And choose a prison since I must,
I'll choose it for its fare.
The Dog will snatch the biggest bone,
So much the wiser he:
Call me a Dog;--the name I'll own:--
The gaol--the gaol for me."
In 1843 Leigh began his effectively satirical "_Punch's_ Labours of
Hercules," and in 1849 "Mr. Pipps's Diary" appeared as the text
accompanying Doyle's pictures of "Ye Manners and Customs of ye
Englyshe." The extraordinary success of this admirable parody was,
perhaps, the greatest he ever won, though he achieved many. He was
essentially a "safe man" at his work, and for that reason he would act
as _locum tenens_ to Shirley Brooks when that Editor was away; and the
only occasions on which he failed (so far as I can ascertain) except
towards the end, was in May, 1847, when his wife died, and in April of
the following year, when he lost his father. He always had a strong
feeling for art, both in subject and treatment, and was always very
fastidious about his work; he would touch up a poem over and over again,
and take the utmost pains with metre and "swing" until he was satisfied.
But as he grew old it became evident that the "Professor" was beyond his
work, and although he attended the Table with the utmost regularity up
to the very end, the decay of nature robbed him of his value as a member
of the Staff. Then came an example of the kindliness of spirit that has
animated for so long the little côterie of humorists of Bouverie Street
and the generosity of the men for whom they work. For a long while
before his death "the Professor's" copy had been practically useless to
the Editor; yet everything was done to spare him the pain of rejection.
At first Mr. Burnand or Mr. Arthur à Beckett would rewrite the
paragraphs; and Leigh's delight when they were printed was sad to see.
But soon it was impossible to conceal the fact that they were utterly
useless; and so for some years it was the practice to set his "copy" up
in type and to send him proofs, which he duly corrected and returned.
But they never appeared in the paper, nor was ever question asked nor
explanation offered. Did the old gentleman forget all about them? Or was
he hoping against hope that some day room might again be found for him
in the pages to which he had contributed with so much applause? Or did
he appreciate the real motive and kindly feeling of the proprietors,
who, though they could not use his work, actually increased his salary?
Whatever the cause, "the Professor" to the last maintained a pathetic
silence. He died at Oak Cottage, King Street, Hammersmith, on October
24th, 1889, and was laid to rest in the Hammersmith Cemetery in the
presence of a circle of old _Punch_ friends. For one thing, at least, he
had laid the paper under a deep debt of gratitude--he had introduced to
it his hospital chum and life-long friend, John Leech, and that was a
service which could never be forgotten.
[Illustration: ALBERT SMITH.
(_From an Engraving by Cook._)]
The third of the medical trio was Albert Smith, a writer who was not
fortunate in making a good impression on the majority of his associates.
With Leech, with whom he had shared rooms in his "sawbones days," he
remained a steadfast friend; but it is probable that that friendship was
maintained by the artist by reason of the other's good nature, and in
spite of his manner. Henry Vizetelly, who evidently bore him no
particular goodwill, wrote to me his recollections of the man in these
words: "He was not the amiable person depicted by Yates in his
'Recollections.' He was vulgar and bumptious in manner until he became
polished by concerting with 'swells' after the success of his
entertainments. He always had a keen eye for the main chance, and never
neglected an opportunity for self-advertisement. Jerrold and Thackeray
detested him, though only Jerrold showed this openly--which he
occasionally did to Smith's face, in the most offensive manner. Albert
Smith retained his position on _Punch_ for some time after Jerrold's
animosity had declared itself--first, because his copy was always
certain; and secondly, because he and Leech were great friends, and
Leech was then a power--though not in the same degree as Jerrold, who
was almost absolute." These strictures are repeated in Vizetelly's
autobiography. Smith's "Physiologies," he says, which were some of them
enlarged from the _Punch_ sketches, brought him great popular favour, in
spite of their slight intrinsic worth. Thackeray was invited by
Vizetelly to produce similar sketches at a hundred pounds apiece--which
was double the amount he was then receiving for the monthly parts of
"Vanity Fair;" but he declined to do anything "in the Albert Smith
line," and he similarly refused to write for "Gavarni in London," of
which Smith was editor. "Pigmy as Jerrold physically was, Albert Smith
quailed before him;" for Jerrold's stinging attacks and repartees were
merciless. So Smith bought a toy-whip, which he playfully produced to
his friends with the explanation that he intended to apply it to "Master
Jerrold;" but he was never known to bring it out in his tormentor's
presence. Jerrold's "skull" witticism has already been recorded; and of
the same kind was his loud enquiry over the _Punch_ dinner-table--when
Smith's obtrusive foible of calling his acquaintances by their
abbreviated Christian names became intolerable--"I say, Leech, how long
is it necessary for a man to know you before he can call you 'Jack'?"
When Jerrold first saw Smith's initials, he had said that he believed
they were "only two-thirds of the truth"--and he continued to act upon
the assumption until Smith left _Punch_ and had become a successful
"Entertainer." Then a truce was called, for his Mont Blanc ascent and
the "Entertainment" he made out of it (of which Leech himself said,
"It's only bad John Parry") had made of Smith one of the lions of the
day, and of his St. Bernard, which had accompanied him, the most petted
beast in the metropolis. But to the end he remained, generally speaking,
the best-abused humorist of his day. He did not even succeed in escaping
the quiet scorn of his occasional companion, Dickens, whose literary
style it was reported he was trying to copy. The novelist, who much
enjoyed Albert's sobriquet of "Lord Smith," simply shrugged his
shoulders as he replied--"We all have our Smiths." It is believed by
those who should know best that the cause of the final rupture between
Smith and _Punch_ was the discovery that some of his articles were
simply adaptations from the French; and this belief is still current in
the _Punch_ office.
Smith's connection with _Punch_ was through his engagement for the
"Cosmorama," on which Landells and Last committed infanticide at the
starting of _Punch_. He sent his first paper from his temporary rooms at
Chertsey; it was the burlesque, "Transactions and Yearly Report of the
Hookham-cum-Snivey Literary, Scientific, and Mechanics' Institute" (12th
September, 1841). This was succeeded in the following month, with the
opening of his "Physiology of a London Medical Student," which was
rather laughable in itself, while displaying a wonderful intimacy with
the rough and noisy world with which it dealt. The idea, however, had
already been sketched by Percival Leigh in "The Heads of the People."
Smith was now living at 14, Percy Street, Tottenham Court Road, in an
unpalatial lodging, where he nominally carried on the profession of
surgeon-dentist; but his best energies were thrown into his literary
work, and there is no doubt that that work was to the taste of the
_Punch_ readers. Mr. Walton Henning has told me how his father, A. S.
Henning, calling upon Smith concerning his work, found him like a
typical Bob Sawyer, with his heels upon the table, playing the cornet as
a grand finale to his breakfast. Then he would don his French workman's
blouse and scribble for dear life. The "Physiology of London Evening
Parties," which was originally written by him in 1839 for the "Literary
World," was illustrated by Newman, who was still a far more important
man on _Punch_ than Leech; and the series was followed by "Curiosities
of Medical Experiences," the less successful "Side-scenes of Everyday
Society," and "Physiology of a London Idler"--which, taken together,
were voted the most entertaining descriptions of social life that
_Punch_ was publishing, even at a time when _Punch_ was declared to be
vastly entertaining. Verse, epigram, jokelets, and articles on current
events came from Albert Smith's pen before the strained relations
between the parties and the irresistible hostility of Jerrold bore him
down, though it is probable that the practical joke on him described
among the proceedings of the _Punch_ Club had some part in bringing
matters to a head; and on January 7th, 1844, his last contribution
appeared--"Important and Telegraphic." _Punch_, in reply to a criticism
of the "Boston Atlas," declared that Smith left in December, 1843; but
Albert Smith himself wrote (November 20th, 1845) to Mr. James Silk
Buckingham (who was protesting to him against _Punch's_ attacks): "I
have not written or suggested anything for _Punch_ since January,
1844.... I withdrew in consequence of being unable to agree with Mr.
Mark Lemon, the editor. Indeed, I have been attacked since then through
my novel of 'The Marchioness of Brinvilliers' both in _Punch_ and in
'Jerrold's Magazine,' for which I do not care a straw."
It was after his retirement from _Punch_ that, in conjunction with A. B.
Reach, he started "The Man in the Moon," with the express purpose of
making himself obnoxious to _Punch_ in general and Jerrold in
particular, in which laudable desire he in part, at least, succeeded;
while at the same time he turned his attention to the publishers by
bringing out a little Christmas volume entitled "A Bowl of _Punch_." But
in time all bitterness disappeared; Albert the Great, as Smith was
called, had "discovered" Mont Blanc and Chamonix, and peace prevailed,
though to the end Smith had no further access to _Punch's_ pages.
The last regular contributor of the year 1841 whose name has been
preserved is H. A. Kennedy, whose parodies of Horace were as good as
anything Leigh ever did of the kind. The parody of Horace's "Donec
gratus" is worth preserving, and that (p. 20, Volume II.) of "Ad
Lydiam"--becomingly rendered into a tender ode "To Judy"--is hardly
less excellent.
Dr. Maginn's connection with _Punch_ began with the first Almanac, while
he was, with James Hannay, in residence in the "Fleet." The doctor, as
one of the most versatile writers of the day, was looked upon by
the "Punchites" as useful for their purpose as he was for any of
the rival papers with which he was connected. "He would write a leader
for the 'Standard' one evening," it is said in J. F. Clarke's
"Auto-biographical Recollections," "answer it in the 'True Sun' the
following day, and abuse both in the 'John Bull' on the ensuing Sunday."
Such a man could not be without a sense of humour, especially with ample
gin and water to enrich it and poverty to point it. He was the brilliant
Morgan O'Doherty of "Fraser" and "Blackwood," and was nearly, but not
quite, "Captain Shandon" in "Pendennis." Thackeray had an affectionate
admiration for his talents. But the times and the doctor were out of
gear; he lost sympathy through his persecution of "L.E.L.," and his
misfortunes led him to follow a class of journalism out of all
consonance with his powers and better feeling; he is credited with
having been the forerunner of scurrilous society-journalism. But no hint
of these defects is apparent in his work for _Punch_, in which, perhaps,
he saw an opportunity for some degree of re-instatement; and he conveyed
his gratitude in a five-stanza poem in praise of the paper (p. 131, Vol.
II.), "Verses by a Bard--Much be-rhymed in _Punch_." But he was near his
end; and when he died a year afterwards, _Punch_ devoted to him the
first of his little black-bordered obituaries.
The year 1842 was the stormiest and most threatening in _Punch's_
history; so that, with an empty till and growing liabilities, there was
no disposition towards introducing new contributors involving the
principle of "cash down." Only three names belong to this year, but all
were men of great importance, each in his own line--John Oxenford, W. M.
Thackeray, and Horace Mayhew. In common with Coyne, Oxenford had a
stronger sympathy for the stage than for periodical literature, so that
after the tenth volume he ceased to be even an occasional contributor.
His first paper was "Herr Döbler and the Candle Counter." The popular
conjurer had advertised that to begin his performance and illumine his
stage he would light two hundred candles by a single pistol-shot. (This
was in the very early days of practical electricity.) The "Times" had
reported the entertainment, but complained that, having counted the
number of candles, they found there were only eighty-seven!--whereupon
Oxenford executed a literary dance upon the "Times" reporter.
Thenceforward, he contributed with some degree of regularity. After his
"Christmas Game" (January 6th, 1844) he was, on the 3rd of the following
year, accounted upon the regular Staff, although from that time he did
but little. Verse, clever and bright, burlesque, and the like, in the
true spirit of _Punch_, came from time to time; but there was not enough
of his work to place him in rank with the chief of the contributors.
"There is one," Mr. Jabez Hogg reminds me, "whose name is rarely
mentioned in connection with the early days of _Punch_ and the
'Illustrated London News.' I refer to John Oxenford. He did much good
work in his day, and his contributions to _Punch_ assisted greatly to
increase its reputation. He was a wit of the first water."
[Illustration: JOHN OXENFORD.
(_From a Photograph by Fradelle and Young._)]
The same number that introduced John Oxenford to the _Punch_ reader
presented also William Makepeace Thackeray--a connection that did not
immediately attract public notice, perhaps, though it soon bore the
richest fruit for both author and publisher.
It was about seven years after the first abortive attempt to found a
"London Charivari" that Thackeray--who had been one of the
band--commenced that connection with _Punch_ which was to be of equal
advantage both to him and the paper. "It was a good day for himself, the
journal, and the world," said Shirley Brooks, "when Thackeray found
_Punch_. At first," continues his biographer, "I should gather that he
had doubts as to the advisability of joining in the new and, so far, not
very promising venture;" and on the 22nd of May, 1842, we find
Fitzgerald uttering a warning note, and writing to a common friend:
"Tell Thackeray not to go to _Punch_ yet." But his friend paid little
heed to the counsel, for within a month appeared what I am satisfied is
Thackeray's first contribution to _Punch_--"The Legend of
Jawbrahim-Heraudee" (p. 254, first volume for 1842) with a sketch
undoubtedly by his hand; and at the beginning of the very next volume, a
fortnight later, was begun the series entitled "Miss Tickletoby's
Lectures on English History." These, continued for a time, made no sort
of hit, and in due course they were discontinued; but there seems to
have been in them, and especially in the sketches, the germ of the idea,
so perfectly worked out a little later by Gilbert à Beckett and
Leech--though not for _Punch_: "The Comic History of England" and "The
Comic History of Rome."
When Thackeray joined the _Punch_ circle--or, rather, when he first
wrote for it, for he was not on the Staff for some little time--he
entered, with the credentials of "Fraser" and the "Irish Sketch Book,"
into a company of which several members were already his friends, who,
knowing him as a humorist with both pen and pencil, were glad to secure
so useful a man as contributor. "Very early in the work," writes
Landells in his private papers, which lie before me, "Mr. Mayhew was
desirous to secure his co-operation, and it was rather singular that the
first paper which the great man contributed to _Punch_ was rejected as
unsuitable."
[Illustration: W. M. THACKERAY.
(_From a Private Photograph._)]
This was hardly correct: it would be more accurate to say that the first
extended series was suddenly cut short. The circumstances of the
extinction of Miss Tickletoby are shown in the following letter by
Thackeray, which has been placed at my disposal by Messrs. Bradbury and
Agnew:--
Halverstown, Kildare,
Sept. 27, 1842.
GENTLEMEN,
Your letter, containing an enclosure of £25, has been forwarded to me,
and I am obliged to you for the remittance. Mr. Lemon has previously
written to me to explain the delay, and I had also received a letter
from Mr. Landells, who told me, what I was sorry to learn, that you were
dissatisfied with my contributions to "Punch." I wish that my writings
had the good fortune to please everyone; but all I can do, however, is
to do my best, which has been done in this case, just as much as if I
had been writing for any more dignified periodical.
But I have no wish to continue the original agreement made between us,
as it is dissatisfactory to you and, possibly, injurious to your work;
and shall gladly cease Mrs. [_sic_] Tickletoby's Lectures, hoping that
you will be able to supply her place with some more amusing and lively
correspondent.
I shall pass the winter either in Paris or in London where, very
probably, I may find some other matter more suitable to the paper, in
which case I shall make another attempt upon "Punch."--Meanwhile,
gentlemen, I remain, your very obedient Servant,
W. M. THACKERAY.
Gradually, however, and by sure degrees, Thackeray fell into the spirit
of the paper, and became known to the general public first as a "_Punch_
man," and then as "_the Punch_ man," and for some time recognised by
that, rather than by his work in other directions. He became more and
more highly appreciated as one of those who contributed to that
speciality of humour for which _Punch_ had already established a
reputation while creating a demand. All the while, during the first ten
years, he regarded the paper as a sort of stepping-stone to an
independent literary position; and he was not very long in using his
opportunity for making a reputation equal to that of Jerrold
himself--but a literary, and in no sense a political one. Jerrold, whose
influence was political quite as much as literary and dramatic,
undoubtedly did a good deal of unconscious service in spurring Thackeray
with the spirit of emulation. It has already been pointed out how little
love was lost between the two men at the weekly Dinner, and how Jerrold
sped his galling little shafts of clever personalities at Carlyle's
"half-monstrous Cornish giant;" how, in short, they were, and remained
to the end, the friendliest and most amiable of enemies.
Vizetelly has recorded how Thackeray would tear the postal-wrapper
nervously from the newly-delivered _Punch_ in order to "see what Master
Douglas has to say this week"--(there is a world of dislike and scorn in
that courtesy-title of "Master")--and how, when he gave a lunch in
honour of the French humorous draughtsman "Cham," he invited "Big"
Higgins, Tom Taylor, Richard Doyle, and Leech, all _Punch_ men, to meet
him, but neither Mark Lemon nor Jerrold, for "Young Douglas, if asked,
would most likely not come; but if he did, he'd take especial care that
his own effulgence should obscure all lesser lights." It was not
Arcedeckne, I am assured by Mr. Cuthbert Bradley ("Cuthbert Bede's"
son), but Jerrold, who, in Mark Lemon's hearing, crushingly criticised
Thackeray's first public reading to the lecturer's face, with the
laconic remark, "Wants a piano!" Thackeray, as we all know, was free
enough himself in his criticisms of his own features, and his many
sketches of his dear old broken nose are familiar enough to every lover
of the man. Yet he was not best pleased when he entered the _Punch_
dining-room a little late, apologising for his unpunctuality through
having been detained at a christening, at which he had stood sponsor to
his friend's boy, to be met with Jerrold's pungent exclamation--"Good
Lord, Thackeray! I hope you didn't present the child with your own mug!"
And still less was he flattered when he heard that, on its being
reported in the _Punch_ office that he was "turning Roman," simply
because he defended Doyle's secession, Jerrold tartly remarked that
"he'd best begin with his nose." (Jerrold, by the way, uses the same
conceit in a letter to Sir Charles Dilke when repeating a rumour of the
attempted conversion of the novelist by "Lady ----.") These and many more
sardonic thrusts would amply account for Thackeray's dislike; yet that
the men's relations were not half so disagreeable as has generally been
believed is shown by the fact of Thackeray coming up specially to town
from his lecturing tour in order to support Jerrold on the night of his
election at the Reform Club, and delightedly exclaiming, when the result
was known--"We've got the little man in!" Nor would he, perhaps, have
shown himself and Jerrold, in the accompanying cut, listening in
fraternal shame-facedness and disgust to a fellow-passenger declaiming
against the wickedness and profanity of _Punch_.
[Illustration: PORTRAITS OF THACKERAY AND JERROLD.
(_Drawn by W. M. Thackeray._)
AUTHOR'S MISERIES, NO. VI.
Old gentleman. Miss Wiggets. Two authors.
_Old gentleman:_ "I am sorry to see you occupied, my dear Miss Wiggets,
with that trivial paper _Punch_. A railway is not a place, in my
opinion, for jokes. I never joke--never."
_Miss W.:_ "So I should think, sir."
_Old gentleman:_ "And, besides, are you aware who are the conductors of
that paper, and that they are Chartists, Deists, Atheists, Anarchists,
and Socialists, to a man? I have it from the best authority that they
meet together once a week in a tavern in St. Giles's, where they concoct
their infamous print. The chief part of their income is derived from
threatening letters which they send to the nobility and gentry. The
principal writer is a returned convict. Two have been tried at the Old
Bailey; and their artist--as for their artist...."
_Guard:_ "Swin-dun! Sta-tion!" (_Punch_, p. 198, Vol. XV., 1848.)]
From the beginning, one of Thackeray's strong points on the Staff was
that he was a "pen-and-pencil man," that he worked indifferently as
artist or as writer, and not only as a writer, but as a prose-and-poem
man. It has been said, with authority, that Thackeray never illustrated
any articles but his own; but that is wholly incorrect. If you open
Volume VIII., at p. 266, you will find a drawing of his showing Jack Tar
and his Poll waltzing an accompaniment to an article on the "Debate on
the Navy," which was written by Gilbert à Beckett. To the same writer's
chapter on "The Footman," in his series of "_Punch's_ Guide to Servants"
(p. 40, Volume IX.), is a characteristic illustration by Thackeray, and
again on the following page to "The Gomersal Museum." A little farther
on, on p. 56, is a clever cut of a lovers' _tête-à-tête_ beside a
tea-table, to accompany Percival Leigh's ballad of "The Lowly Bard to
his Lady Love;" and many similar results will reward a more extended
search.
Thackeray's own opinion of his powers as a draughtsman is not easy to
determine. We know, of course, from his own lips, his (? affected)
surprise at Dickens not finding his art good enough to illustrate
"Pickwick" _vice_ Seymour, deceased. But in the interval between this
application in 1836 and his later work he probably came to a more
critical estimate of the real value of his draughtsmanship--that work
which had been so laboriously and earnestly evolved from his studies in
the Louvre and elsewhere. When Vizetelly was engraving Thackeray's
designs to "Mrs. Perkin's Ball," which on account of their
unsophisticated artistic character, were re-touched by a clever young
draughtsman, the artist wrote that there was a "je ne sais quoi" in his
"vile drawing" which was worth retaining. "Somehow," he said, "I prefer
my Nuremberg dolls to Mr. Thwaites's superfine wax models." After Edmund
Yates had started that brilliant little journal or magazine, which was
not destined, however, to live as long as it deserved, Thackeray wrote
to him: "You have a new artist on 'The Train,' I see, my dear Yates. I
have been looking at his work, and I have solved a problem. I find there
_is_ a man alive who draws worse than myself!" Yet he continued to draw
for _Punch_ with zeal; but when an acquaintance told him, probably in
all sincerity, "but you _can_ draw," Thackeray brusquely put down the
compliment to the toadyism of a "snob." Trollope declares that Thackeray
"never learned to draw--perhaps, never could have learned;" but he did
not see that in the art of illustration, especially of a humorous
character, there is something more important than academic correctness
and technical mastery. He moved his pencil slowly, with a deliberate
broad touch, without haste, and with no more attempt at refinement than
was natural to him. Yet his hand was capable of astonishing delicacy of
touch; and I have seen the Lord's Prayer written by him one day at the
_Punch_ Table, within the space of a threepenny-piece, which is a marvel
of legibility. There is a character about Thackeray's work--his "je ne
sais quoi"--that makes us forgive him his glaring faults--indeed, we
almost come to love him for them--when once we have frankly recognised
that it was in great measure his facility in drawing that was his
artistic ruin. There is always something of the caricaturist in his most
serious and important sketches--most of all, perhaps, in his etchings.
It is in his smallest cuts that he is seen to the best advantage, and in
them he occasionally challenges comparison with Doyle and Leech himself.
In the execution of his _Punch_ sketches, in nearly all the three
hundred and eighty of them, Thackeray was as summary as in the turning
of a ballad, and I describe elsewhere how he would make a drawing on the
wood while the engraver waited and chatted over a cigar. It was clearly
not his opinion that, as is nowadays adjudged to be the proper course,
elaborate studies should first be made from the life-model, even for
the execution of a simple _Punch_ picture. He preferred, when possible,
to confine his pencil to the illustration of his own text; but on
occasion he would produce a "social" cut--a drawing, that is to say,
with a joke printed beneath. Sometimes it would be in the manner of
Leech, as in the joke in Volume IX. (p. 3) called "The Ascot Cup Day,"
wherein a hot-potato-seller asks a small boy with a broom, "Why are you
on the crossing, James? Is your father Hill?" and is informed "No. He's
drove mother down to Hascot." More personal was such work as "The Stags,
a Drama of To-day," in which a retired thimblerigger and an unfortunate
costermonger, under a magnificent alias, take advantage of the railway
mania to make their application for shares--for which they could not
pay, of course, if things went wrong--in accordance with the game of
"heads I win, tails I vanish," at that time extensively played
throughout the country. Later on (in Volume XV.), following "The
Heavies," he gave, in seven scenes, a panorama of an "Author's
Miseries." In 1847 (Volume XII., p. 59) Thackeray contributed a "social"
picture which is to this day a wonder to all beholders. It is entitled
"Horrid Tragedy in Private Life," and represents a room in which two
ladies, or a lady and a servant, are in a state of the greatest alarm.
What the meaning of it all is there is nothing whatever to indicate
(unless it be that something has fallen on the taller lady's dress); and
on its appearance the "Man in the Moon" offered a reward of £500 and a
free pardon to anyone who would publish an explanation. The reward was
never claimed; and Thackeray's contribution remains one of _Punch's_
Prize Puzzles, unsolved, and, apparently, unsolvable.
It was in No. 137--that notable part which contained "The Song of the
Shirt"--that Thackeray appeared in his own right, as belonging not only
to the Staff, but to the Table. The contribution was a "Singular Letter
from the Regent of Spain;" and with it Thackeray took his place at the
Dinner as an excellent substitute for Albert Smith. That writer, who had
found his successor "a very jolly fellow with no High Art about him,"
and a charming companion at "the Cider Cellars," a month later
disappeared for ever from _Punch_ as a contributor, refiguring only in
its pages from time to time as an object of attack.
Thackeray's work on _Punch_ covered every corner of _Punch's_ field.
Burlesques of history and parodies of literature, ballads and songs,
stories and jokes, papers and paragraphs, pleasantry and pathos,
criticisms and conundrums, travels in the East and raillery in the
West, political skits and social satire--from a column to a single
line--such was the sum of Thackeray's contribution to _Punch_. Less
prolific than either Jerrold or Gilbert à Beckett, he produced,
nevertheless, an enormous amount of "copy" that was always readable,
even when it was not his best. He wrote from Paris to his friend, Mrs.
Brookfield (September 2nd, 1849): "I won't give you an historical
disquisition in the Titmarsh manner upon this, but reserve it for
_Punch_--for whom, on Thursday [I have written] an article that I think
is quite unexampled for dulness, even in that Journal, and that beats
the dullest Jerrold. What a jaunty, offhand, satiric rogue I am, to be
sure--and a gay young dog!" But he did not think his work half so
uninteresting as he pretended; he even regarded with satisfaction that
which he produced when greatly out of the vein. "It is but a hasty
letter I send you, my dear lady," he wrote to the same correspondent, in
1850, "but my hand is weary with writing 'Pendennis'--and my head
boiling up with some nonsense that I must do after dinner for _Punch_.
Isn't it strange that, in the midst of all the selfishness, that of
doing one's business is the strongest of all. What funny songs I've
written when fit to hang myself!"
His first contributions to _Punch_, after those already mentioned, were
"Mr. Spec's Remonstrance," Volume IV., p. 70 (omitting "Assumption of
Aristocracy," which has hitherto been credited to him, but was really
sent in by Gilbert à Beckett), "Singular Letter from the Regent of
Spain," with the three amusing cuts of sailors who, having found a
bottle at sea, speculate as to its contents as they open it--"Sherry,
perhaps," "Rum, I hope!" "_Tracts, by Jove!!_" Then, to select the chief
and longest series, came "The History of the Next French Revolution," in
nine parts (Volume VI.), contributions which were leavened by pleasant
attacks levelled at Lytton, and at "Jenkins" of the "Morning Post." Then
followed, in Volumes VII. and VIII., "Travelling Notes, by our Fat
Contributor" (for Thackeray loved to call himself so, or "Our Stout
Commissioner," or "Titmarsh," "Policeman X," "Jeames," "Paul Pindar,"
or other whimsical pseudonym), and "Punch in the East"--the record of a
journey undertaken by Thackeray at the invitation of the P. and O.
Company, who offered him a free passage to Egypt.
At this time the railway mania was at its height, and Thackeray took his
share in _Punch_ in stemming the fatal tide, so far as ridicule could be
used to do so. One of his first papers on the subject was the "Letter
from Jeames, of Buckly Square," signed by "Fitz-Jeames de la
Pluche"--the famous Jeames who, first created by Thackeray in the pages
of "The Britannia" in 1841, under the title of "Mr. Yellowplush, my
lord's body-servant," began in the same Vol. IX. (1845) his immortal
"Diary." One of the successes of this epistle was what, to Thackeray's
delight, was seriously complained of as the "deplorable" inaccurate
orthography of the illiterate flunkey. Thackeray was certainly not the
first to use the device, but he was the first to achieve great success
with it, and Arthur Sketchley, Artemus Ward, Mr. Deputy Bedford
("Robert"), and all the American humorists who have adopted the same
idea, are but followers where the great Titmarsh led. Jeames's weakness
became a strength in Thackeray's hands, and at one time was turned with
effect upon Sir Isaac Pitman's "Spelling Reform," which was then a novel
butt for the satirist. The incident has been thus gravely recorded in
the pages of the "Phonetic Journal":--
"Ten years ago Mr. Punch had meni a meri kakinashon at the ekspens
ov Mr. Pitman and the 'Phonetic News,' which he leiked tu kall the
'Fanatic Nuz.' Here is wun of his sneerz:--'Voltaire sed ov the
Inglish that they save two ourz a day bei kontrakting all their
wurdz. The "Fonetic Nuz" woz not then in eksistens. If we save two
ourz,' kontiniuz the kaustik pupet, 'in the dayz ov Voltaire, we
must save siks ourz at least nou that we hav our improved plan ov
speling, az originali invented bei Winifred Jenkins, and karid to
its greatest heit bei Jeames, with the assistans ov Yellowplush and
Pitman.' But _Punch_, who, leik the 'Thunderer,' never goez agenst
publik opinion, sneerz no longer at the Speling Reform moovment,
and sensibel men, who ar not fonetik men at all, admit at last that
our prezent sistem ov orthografi is bei no meanz perfekt."
There is little wonder that Thackeray seized on the comic side of this
movement, for whimsical spelling always delighted him. On one occasion,
indeed, he was so proud of an uncompromising cold that had "sat down" in
his head that he wrote to a friend in these terms:--"Br. Lettsob
(attaché to the Egglish Legatiob at Washigtol) has beel kild elough to
probise to dile with be ol _Bulday lext_ at 6 o'clock--if you would joil
hib aid take a portiol of _a plail joilt ald a puddl_, it wd. give great
pleasure."
"The Snobs of England" began in the tenth volume, and continued through
fifty-one numbers well into the twelfth. The effect of these papers was
remarkable; the sensation they caused was profound. It may be compared
to that of Jerrold's "Caudle Lectures," save that they appealed to a
more cultivated and less demonstrative class, and were appreciated in
proportion to their superior merits. The circulation of _Punch_ rose
surprisingly under their benign influence, and Thackeray did not leave
the subject until he had handled it from every point of view and even
carried it abroad. He was, naturally, not a little proud of his first
great success, and in his unaffected manner was tempted to speak about
it in Society--where more than in any other quarter the papers were
appreciated. Unfortunately, according to Dr. Gordon Hake's memoirs,
Thackeray broached the subject to George Borrow. He had been trying to
make conversation with that strangely crotchety man, but had completely
failed. So, being somewhat embarrassed, he asked him abruptly, "Have you
read my 'Snob Papers' in _Punch_?" Borrow seemed to thaw. "In _Punch_,"
he repeated sweetly. "It is a periodical I never look at." This was as
bad as the Oxford University magnate when Thackeray called upon him in
1857 in reference to his lecturing-tour and mentioned his connection
with _Punch_, the fame of which was great in the land, as a sort of
certificate of character--"_Punch_--_Punch_?" repeated the ignorant
scholar, "is that not a ribald publication?" Thackeray, I may add, in
order to impart local colour to his chapters on the Club Snob, with
characteristic shrewdness obtained an introduction from Mr. Hampton, the
secretary of the Conservative Club, to the Secretaries of the Reform
and the Athenæum, and begged their permission to inspect their
complaint-books--a fact which has not before been recorded; and from
them he gained such an insight into the failings of the snobbish
clubman, that that portion of the work is unsurpassed for its truth to
life. It is generally understood that he took Mr. Stephen Price, of the
Garrick Club, as the model for Captain Shandy, and that his type of the
sporting snob was Mr. Wyndham Smith.
There is not much doubt that Thackeray was a little--if ever so
little--of a snob himself, and Jerrold's suspicion of him was to that
extent justified. He did not show it so much by going into Society, for,
as he said to a friend, "If I don't go out and mingle in Society, I
can't write"--just as Mr. du Maurier goes out in order to study his
world, and as Leech rode to hounds for the sake of his health and work.
But Thackeray, who was the writer of some of the most caustic articles
on "Jenkins"--(under which name _Punch_ habitually attacked the "Morning
Post," the aristocratic airs of which were to him a perpetual
provocation)--seemed to take a little more interest in Society than mere
curiosity or policy required; and was once thrown heavily in an
encounter with the "Post's" reporter. Henry Vizetelly retells the story
well in his "Looking Back through Seventy Years":--
A favourite butt for Hannay's savage satire was Rumsey Forster--the
Jenkins of the "Morning," or, as Hannay dubbed it, the "Fawning
Post"--who had supplanted the _ci-devant_ midshipman in the
affections of some pretty barmaid at a London tavern which they
both frequented. Forster was most energetic in his particular
calling, and is said on one occasion to have obtained admission in
the interests of the "Morning Post" to a Waterloo banquet at Apsley
House, by getting himself up as one of the extra servants out of
livery, called in to assist on these occasions. He was highly
indignant with Thackeray for the way in which he persistently
ridiculed him in _Punch_ under the cognomen of Jenkins; and I
remember, after the author of "Vanity Fair" had become a celebrity,
and began to be invited by other wearers of purple and fine linen,
besides Lord Carlisle, to their aristocratic _soirées_, being
highly amused by Forster telling me how he had taken his revenge.
"You should know, sir," he said solemnly, "that at Stafford House,
Lady Palmerston's, and the other swell places, a little table is
set for me just outside the drawing-room doors, where I take down
the names of the company as these are announced by the attendant
footmen. Well, Mr. Thackeray was at the Marquis of Lansdowne's the
other evening, and his name was called out, as is customary;
nevertheless, I took very good care that it should not appear in
the list of the company at Lansdowne House, given in the 'Post.' A
night or two afterwards I was at Lord John Russell's, and Mr.
Thackeray's name was again announced, and again I designedly
neglected to write it down; whereupon the author of 'The Snobs of
England,' of all persons in the world [it must be candidly
confessed that Thackeray was himself a bit of a tuft-hunter],
bowed, and bending over me, said: 'Mr. Thackeray;' to which I
replied: 'Yes, sir, I am quite aware;' nevertheless, the great Mr.
Thackeray's name did not appear in the 'Post' the following
morning."
In another version of the same story it is recorded that when Thackeray
pronounced his name to Rumsey Forster, the latter dramatically retorted,
"And I, sir, am Mr. Jenkins"--an account far more artistic, if somewhat
less faithful.
After the "Snobs" were finished and the evergreen "Mahogany Tree," in
Volume XII., "_Punch's_ Prize Novelists" were begun in April, 1847. In
their way these parodies have never been excelled, and the fourth of the
series--"Phil Fogarty," by "Harry Rollicker"--was so excellent a
burlesque that Charles Lever, on reading this story of the hero of "the
fighting onety-oneth," good-humouredly declared that he "might as well
shut up shop;" and he actually did change, thenceforward, the manner of
his books. These "Prize Novels" continued into the following volume, in
which "Travels in London" were begun. These ran into Volume XIV., 1848,
in which year their author received from Edinburgh a testimonial from
eighty of his Scottish admirers. This took the shape of a silver
inkstand in the form of Mr. Punch's person, and greatly resembled that
which a similar subscription had already procured for Mark Lemon. It
drew from Thackeray a charming letter in acknowledgment. Then followed
"A Dinner at Timmins's" (Volumes XIV.-XV.) and "Bow Street Ballads"
(Volume XV.), 1848, "Mr. Brown's Letters to a Man about Town" (Volume
XVI.), and "Mr. Brown's Letters to his Son" (Volume XVII.), 1849; "The
Proser" (Volumes XVIII.-XIX.), 1850, and "Important from the Seat of
War" (Volumes XXVI.-XXVII.), 1854. These papers, with the exception of
"Mr. Punch to an Eminent Personage" (Volume XXVII., p. 110) and "A
Second Letter to an Eminent Personage" (Volume XXVII., p. 113), were the
last Thackeray ever wrote for _Punch_. The statement of his biographers
that in the year 1850, "If we except one later flicker in 1854,
Thackeray's long connection with _Punch_ died out," is totally
incorrect, for in 1851 there are forty-one literary items and a dozen
cuts to his credit. But from that time until 1854 he only contributed
"The Organ Boy's Appeal" (Volume XXV., p. 144), and thenceforward we
hear no more of "Policeman X," of Maloney and his Irish humour, of the
Frenchman on whom, in spite of himself, he was always so severe, no more
of Jeames, Jenkins, or the rest of the puppets who lived for us under
his manipulation.[40]
[Illustration: INKSTAND PRESENTED TO THACKERAY BY HIS EDINBURGH
ADMIRERS.]
The labour of producing his _Punch_ work was often irksome to him in the
extreme, and many a time would he put Mark Lemon off--now, because he
was so well in the swim with his novel then in hand that he begged hard
to be let off, and again, because the Muse was coy and would not on any
account be wooed. On one occasion he wrote explaining with what
weariness he had been battening rhymes for three hours in his head, and
could get nothing out: "I must beg you to excuse me," he ingeniously
added, "for I've worked just as much for you as though I had done
something." At other times he would break away from the company he was
in, in order to complete his regulation number of columns. His godson,
afterwards the Rev. Francis Thackeray, has told us how the great man
once took him to a conjuring entertainment and, having secured him a
good place, explained "Now, I must leave you awhile, and go and make a
five-pound note." And in such a manner, in haste and with
disinclination, was often produced what James Hannay calls "the
inimitable, wise, easy, playful, worldly, social sketch of Thackeray."
Although, as a rule, Thackeray preferred social to political satire, he
would sometimes point an epigram with sharp effect. For example, in
1845, the disclosure in the "Freeman" of J. Young's letter, to the
discomfiture of the Whigs and Lord Melbourne, suggested to Thackeray the
line: "Young's Night Thought--Wish I hadn't franked that letter!" Its
appearance in _Punch_ caused Mr. Sparkes to buttonhole the writer at the
Reform Club, and excitedly dilate on the mischief that was being done to
the Party by such very public and sarcastic means. Thackeray burst out
laughing--"the mountain shook," says the historian--but felt a little
genuine pleasure at the circumstance all the same.
As success and public recognition came to him for his novels--the
success for which he had worked so hard--his disinclination to work for
_Punch_ increased. No doubt the policy of the paper had something to do
with it; but there can be little question that the great fame and reward
he derived from novel writing made more occasional work distasteful to
him, and in 1854--the year of "The Newcomes"--Thackeray corrected his
last proof for _Punch_. He had foreseen it for some time, for in 1849 he
had written to Mrs. Brookfield from Paris, "What brought me to this
place? Well, I am glad I came; it will give me a subject for at least
six weeks in _Punch_" ["Paris Revisited," &c.], "of which I was getting
so weary that I thought I must have done with it." Five years afterwards
he wrote to the same lady: "What do you think I have done to-day? I have
sent in my resignation to _Punch_. There appears in next _Punch_ an
article so wicked, I think, by poor ---- [? Jerrold] that upon my word
I don't think I ought to pull any longer in the same boat with such a
savage little Robespierre. The appearance of this incendiary article put
me in such a rage that I could only cool myself with a ride in the
park." Writing a long while afterwards for the public eye, he said,
"Another member of _Punch's_ Cabinet, the biographer of Jeames, the
author of the 'Snob papers,' resigned his functions on account of Mr.
Punch's assaults upon the present Emperor of the French nation, whose
anger he thought it was unpatriotic to arouse"--being thus in Punchian
policy, if not in motive, in entire accord with Mr. Ruskin.
A more complete and emphatic statement of the facts, as Thackeray viewed
them, will be found in the subjoined letter from the novelist to one of
the _Punch_ proprietors, which, by their courtesy, is here printed for
the first time:--
"March 24th, 1855.
"36, Onslow Sqre.
"MY DEAR EVANS,
"I find a note of yours dated Feb. 5, in wh. F.M.E.[41] states that my
account shall be prepared directly. F.M.E. has a great deal to do and
pay and think of, but W. M. T. has also his engagements.
"I hope your 'Poetry of Punch' will not be published before my collected
Ballads--Now remember (you wrote me a letter expressly on the subject)
that the Copyright of all articles in 'Punch' were mine, by
stipulation--and my book would be very much hurt by the appearance of
another containing 3/4 of its contents.
"I met Murray the publisher the other day, and cannot help fancying from
his manner to me that there is a screw loose with him too about that
unlucky Leech article. Lemon, answering one of my letters, said that he
personally complained that my account of leaving 'Punch' was not
correct.
"There was such a row at the time, and I was so annoyed at the wrong
that I had done, that I thought I had best leave Lemon's remonstrance
for a while and right it on some future occasion. I recall now to you
and beg you to show to him and to any other persons who may have
received a different version of the story--what the facts were. I had
had some serious public differences with the Conduct of 'Punch'--about
the abuse of Prince Albert and the Chrystal [_sic_] Palace at wh. I very
nearly resigned, about abuse of Lord Palmerston, about abuse finally of
L. Napoleon--in all which 'Punch' followed the 'Times,' wh. I think and
thought was writing unjustly at that time, and dangerously for the
welfare and peace of the Country.
"Coming from Edinburgh I bought a 'Punch' containing the picture of a
Beggar on Horseback, in wh. the Emperor was represented galloping to
hell with a sword reeking with blood. As soon as ever I could after my
return (a day or 2 days after), I went to Bouverie St., saw you and gave
in my resignation.
"I mention this because I know the cause of my resignation has been
questioned at 'Punch'--because this was the cause of it. I talked it
over with you in, and Leech saw me coming out of your room, and I told
him of my retirement.
"No engagement afterwards took place between us; nor have I ever been
since a member of 'Punch's' Cabinet, so to speak. Wishing you all
heartily well, I wrote a few occasional papers last year--and not liking
the rate of remuneration, wh. was less than that to wh. I had been
accustomed in my time, I wrote no more.
"And you can say for me as a reason why I should feel hurt at your
changing the old rates of payment made to me--that I am not a man who
quarrels about a guinea or two except as a point of honour; _and_ that
when I could have had a much larger sum than that wh. you gave me for my
last novel--I preferred to remain with old friends, who had acted
honourably and kindly by me.
"I reproach myself with having written 1/2 a line regarding my old
'Punch' Companions--which was perfectly true, wh. I have often said--but
which I ought not to have written. No other wrong that I know of have I
done. And I think it is now about time that my old friends and
publishers should set me right.
"Yours very faithfully, dear Evans,
"W. M. THACKERAY.
"F. M. Evans, Esq."
[Illustration: THACKERAY IN HIS STUDY. (_From Portion of a Painting by
F. M. Ward, R.A., in the Possession of Richard Hurst, Esq._)]
Yet, though he resigned, he would still from time to time attend the
Dinners, at which he was always made welcome by the publishers and his
late colleagues. When, during this period, he was pleading for
assistance for the family of one of the Staff who had passed away, he
took pleasure in admitting that--"It is through my connection with
_Punch_ that I owe the good chances that have lately befallen me, and
have had so many kind offers of help in my own days of trouble that I
would thankfully aid a friend whom death has called away." So, although
he was no longer to be identified with the paper, Thackeray--"the great
Thackeray" he had become--was bound to it and to several members of the
Staff by ties of intimate affection, and his sudden death came with
stunning force upon them all. To Leech it was as his own death-knell;
and when he, Mark Lemon, Shirley Brooks, Tom Taylor, Horace Mayhew,
"Jacob Omnium," and John Tenniel stood round his grave, they felt, I
have been told, as if the glory of _Punch_ had been irremediably dimmed.
No verses ever penned by _Punch's_ poets to the memory of one of their
dead brethren ever breathed more love or more beauty of thought than
those in which Thackeray was mourned, and defended against the charge of
cynicism--" ... a brave, true, honest gentleman, whom no pen but his own
could depict as those who knew him could desire":--
"He was a cynic: By his life all wrought
Of generous acts, mild words, and gentle ways;
His heart wide open to all kindly thought,
His hand so quick to give, his tongue to praise.
"And if his acts, affections, works, and ways
Stamp not upon the man the cynic's sneer,
From life to death, oh, public, turn your gaze--
The last scene of a cynical career!
"Those uninvited crowds, this hush that lies,
Unbroken, till the solemn words of prayer
From many hundred reverent voices rise
Into the sunny stillness of the air.
"These tears, in eyes but little used to tears,
Those sobs, from manly lips, hard set and grim,
Of friends, to whom his life lay bare for years,
Of strangers, who but knew his books, not him."
FOOTNOTES:
[40] The inclusion of the article entitled "A Plea for Plush," in the
volume of "Contributions to _Punch_" in "Complete Works," published by
Smith, Elder & Co., is a mistake. The article in question was by
Thackeray's friend, "Jacob Omnium."
[41] Mr. Frederick Mullet Evans.