_PUNCH'S_ WRITERS: 1880-94.
"Robert"--Mr. Deputy Bedford--Mr. Ashby-Sterry--Reginald Shirley
Brooks--Mr. George Augustus Sala--Mr. Clement Scott--The "Times"
Approves--Mr. H. W. Lucy--"Toby, M.P."--Martin Tapper and Edmund
Yates--Mr. George Grossmith--Mr. Weedon Grossmith--Mr. Andrew
Lang's "Confessions of a Duffer"--Miss May Kendall--Miss
Burnand--Lady Humorists--Mr. Brandon Thomas and Mr. Gladstone--Mr.
Warham St. Leger--Mr. Anstey--"Modern Music-hall Songs"--"Voces
Populi"--Mr. R. C. Lehmann--Mr. Barry Pain--Mr. H. P. Stephens--Mr.
Charles Geake--Mr. Gerald Campbell--R. F. Murray--Mr. George
Davis--Mr. Arthur A. Sykes--Rev. Anthony C. Deane--Mr. Owen
Seaman--Lady Campbell--Mr. James Payn--Mr. H. D. Traill--Mr. A.
Armitage--Mr. Hosack--Arthur Sketchley--Henry J. Byron--_Punch's_
Literature Considered.
[Illustration: JOHN T. BEDFORD.
(_From a Photograph by E. J. Stoneham._)]
"Robert, the City waiter" made his low-comedy bow in 1880. "Robert's"
literary father is Mr. Deputy John T. Bedford, whose opportunities for
studying the ways of the City waiter have necessarily been many and
excellent. The result of his keen observation was introduced to _Punch_
through chance. "My introduction to _Punch_," Mr. Bedford informs me,
"arose from the quite accidental circumstance that Mr. Burnand and
myself were introduced at the same time, by Mr. F. Gordon, on the
directorship of the 'Grand Hotel' at Charing Cross; and very shortly
afterwards ... on the appointment of Mr. Burnand as Mr. Tom Taylor's
successor, I ventured to congratulate him, when he said to me, 'If any
fun is to be found in the City, I shall expect you to bring it to me.' I
replied that I had sometimes thought that there was some to be got out
of a City waiter, as waiters were not quite so deaf as was generally
considered. I tried my hand, and my first attempt was very kindly
received; it was printed on p. 64, Vol. LXXIX. (August 14th, 1880),
under the title of 'Notes from the Diary of a City Waiter.' ... There is
no truth in the statement that Robert was based upon a certain waiter.
He is certainly imaginary"--a statement which disposes of the assertion
that the famous old "Cock Tavern" is famous nowadays for the original of
"Robert" in the person of its head-waiter. Since 1880 Mr. Deputy Bedford
is to be credited with more than two hundred contributions, of which,
however, only a proportion belong to the "Robert" series. "You will find
some of them," writes Mr. Bedford, "signed J. Litgué, a _nom de plume_
that puzzled Mr. Burnand himself, until I revealed the secret that it
was French for 'Bed-ford'; and he, with his excellent knowledge of
French, was thoroughly sold." "Robert" has been republished in book
form, and has attained an extraordinary circulation, though some of Mr.
Bedford's critics have declared that the chief attraction has been the
admirable illustrations by Charles Keene with which the little book is
embellished. For severe critics there are; one of whom, in order to
prove that "Robert" was not a humorous creation at all, took the curious
course of translating one of his articles into good, well-spelt English,
and then triumphantly asking--"Where is the humour now?"
[Illustration: J. ASHBY-STERRY
(_From a Photograph by Samuel A. Walker._)]
A complete contrast to Mr. Bedford became a contributor to _Punch_ a
fortnight after him--Mr. J. Ashby-Sterry. Twenty-nine years had passed
since his boyish drawings had been accepted; and during the interval he
had relinquished the pencil for the pen, had become a well-known
journalist, and the author of sundry volumes of light literature. He was
one of the first to be summoned by the new Editor, and he responded
nobly to the call. Since August 28th, 1880, he has contributed as
largely as any outsider to _Punch's_ pages. Innumerable picture-shows,
new books, articles of all kinds, and countless verses of every
description on every possible topic, with paragraphs long and short,
are, so to speak, the _hors d'oeuvres_ of his contribution. Many
series of poems and papers are his, of which the best-known is that of
the "Lays of a Lazy Minstrel" (begun August 28th, 1880), with their
riverside idylls and love-carols; but to his hand also are to be
credited "Simple Stories for Little Gentlefolk," "Holiday Haunts, by
Jingle Junior on the Jaunt," "Club Carols," "Uncle Bulger's Moral
Tales," "Songs of the Streets," "Rambling Rondeaux," and "Paper-knife
Poems." But it is his fluent, melodious, and unpretentious verse that
has made him popular in _Punch_.
Reginald Shirley Brooks, the son of Mr. Burnand's brilliant predecessor,
was working for _Punch_ in 1880, and the following year he was called to
the Table, and remained there without much distinction until 1884. He
wrote some smart papers, but his groove was not that of the sober and
respectable Fleet Street Sage. He preferred wilder spirits, and he
accordingly retired, taking with him the sympathy of his companions. He
died soon after.
After the escapade of Mr. George Augustus Sala in respect to Alfred
Bunn's quarrel with _Punch_ and the resultant "Word with Punch" of half
a century ago (which was illustrated by Mr. Sala's lively pencil, as is
explained in another chapter), none would ever have thought that his pen
would have been driven in _Punch's_ service. Lemon had declared him a
"graceless young whelp," and nothing that Mr. Sala ever cared to do had
tended to change that opinion. Shirley Brooks and Tom Taylor carried on
the sentiment as a sort of dynastic vendetta, and Mr. Sala's name was
kept on _Punch's_ Index Expurgatorius until the accession of Mr.
Burnand. _Punch_ was then no longer the close borough, and the new
Editor sought talent where he could find it. He invited Mr. Sala to
contribute, and the invitation has been responded to whenever anything
"Punchy" has occurred to the writer--as in the rhymed travesty of
Tennyson's opening verses of "The Princess." It is an amusing fact that
on one occasion Mr. Sala contributed a skit on himself--felicitously
entitled "_Egos_ of the Week"--with the startling and satisfactory
result that one or two papers, taking the thing _au sérieux_, commented
on the fact, and expressed their pleasure that "at last Mr. George
Augustus Sala has had the drubbing by _Punch_ he has so long and so
richly deserved"!
Mr. Clement Scott, the _doyen_ of the dramatic critics, Civil Servant
(like so many of the _Punch_ Staff), member of the clever band that
nurtured "Fun" into life, and brother-in-law of Mr. du Maurier, also had
to wait till Mr. Burnand was Editor before he was given the opportunity
to write for _Punch_. "It struck him," writes Mr. Scott, "that he might
mingle among the essentially comic pages an occasional poem that might
ventilate some grievance in a pathetic manner or describe some heroic
subject in the ballad style.... The first subject Burnand sent me was
the overworked and underpaid clerks in London. It took my fancy, and in
three hours after I received his letter I sent him 'The Cry of the
Clerk!' To my intense surprise, the morning after it appeared in _Punch_
I found it quoted _in extenso_ in 'The Times'--an unusual honour. I
believe Dr. Chinery the instant he read the poem clipped it out with his
own scissors and said, 'I don't know if this has ever been done before,
but we must quote the poem to-morrow morning.' The sub-editor was
aghast, but the poem was printed as from _Punch_."
These verses, indeed, struck people's consciences, as Thomas Hood had
struck them years ago with "The Song of the Shirt." It brought into
relief the enforced "respectability" of the men who earn but a few
shillings a week, and yet are supposed to be "above charity."
It was the last verse that most struck home:--
"Why did I marry? In mercy's name, in the form of my brother was I not
born?
Are wife and child to be given to him, and love to be taken from me
with scorn?
It is not for them that I plead, for theirs are the only voices that
break my sorrow,
That lighten my pathway, make me pause 'twixt the sad to-day and grim
to-morrow.
The Sun and the Sea are not given to me, nor joys like yours as you flit
together
Away to the woods and the downs, and across the endless acres of purple
heather.
But I've love, thank Heaven! and mercy, too; 'tis for justice only I bid
you hark
To the tale of a penniless man like me--to the wounded cry of a London
Clerk!"
Then he took the part of the shop-girls who are never allowed to sit
down ("Weary Womankind"); of the London children who cry for fresh air
("The Children's Cry"), and described as well many a deed of daring by
sea and land, in which sailors, soldiers, engine-drivers, policemen,
life-boatmen, and coastguardsmen were concerned. In his little volume of
"Lays and Lyrics" nearly a score of these _Punch_ poems are republished.
The Parliamentary phase of _Punch_ is the one which has remained
constant from the beginning of the paper. All else has been subject to
change--the quality of its satire, the character of its literature, the
intention of its art, and the class of its humour. But in his attendance
upon Parliament _Punch_ has been persistently assiduous and consistently
frank, neither awed by its majesty nor sickened by its follies.
Parliament has always been regarded in his pages in the spirit of
benevolent patronage and control, which, though unquestionably
pedagogic, has always been just and sympathetic in tone. It was in order
to continue the chain forged by Shirley Brooks and Tom Taylor in their
"Essence of Parliament," without the dropping of a link, that Mr.
Burnand's first Staff appointment was made with a view to filling the
place that had been left vacant by Tom Taylor's death. His attention,
like that of many others, had long been attracted to the brilliant
weekly articles in the "Observer," entitled "From the Cross
Benches"--papers that dealt with the week's Parliamentary proceedings
with singular cleverness, humour, and originality--and at the proper
moment he sought out the author of them, Mr. Henry W. Lucy, of the
"Daily News."
Mr. Lucy had already graduated as the Pepys of Parliament; for he had
been known in gallery and lobby of the House for the past ten years, and
was acting as chief of the Parliamentary Staff for his paper. He was,
therefore, considered particularly well-fitted for the new post on
_Punch_, and he readily accepted the invitation. His first contribution
was a sort of prospectus of Toby's Diary, which was published on January
8th, 1881. Thenceforward Mr. Lucy became known as "Toby, M.P.;" and when
a puzzled Member of Parliament, familiar with his face, would
occasionally ask him in the Lobby, "By the way, where are you member
for?" he would answer "_Barks_" and pass on. It is not uncommon to find
unregenerate members taking to themselves the credit of the witticisms
which Toby puts into their mouths; so that there is perhaps excuse for
the biographer of Lord Sherbrooke (Robert Lowe), who attributed to his
subject the capital exclamation with which Mr. Lucy endowed him. When he
saw a deaf member get his ear-trumpet into position in order to listen
to a tedious orator, he remarked (according to Toby): "What a pity it is
to see a man thus wasting his natural advantages!" And Lowe has had the
credit of it ever since.
[Illustration: H. W. LUCY.
(_From a Photograph by Walery, Limited._)]
No one in the House knows its members so well as Mr. Lucy; no one out of
it is so well acquainted with its procedure; and when for a short time
he reluctantly filled the editorial chair of the "Daily News," he was
unhappy till he got back to Toby's "kennel" in the gallery of the House
of Commons.
But the Essence of Parliament as distilled by "Toby" is by no means the
only, hardly even the most voluminous of Mr. Lucy's _Punch_ work. In the
recess he is a constant contributor as Mr. Burnand's deputy in the
character of _Punch's_ reviewer--"The Baron de Book-Worms," through
whose personality "My Baronite" appears from time to time; while among
his serial articles have been "The Letter-bag of Toby, M.P.," and the
set of Interviews with Celebrities at Home, parodies of the "World's"
articles, which delighted none so much as Edmund Yates himself.[48] Mr.
Lucy joined the Table on his return from Japan in 1884.
But it is as "Toby" that he has gained most of his popularity. He showed
the way about the House of Commons to Mr. Harry Furniss; and, up to the
withdrawal of the latter, his "Diary" was always illustrated by that
artist. Later on Mr. Edward J. Reed took the place Mr. Furniss resigned,
and the pair continue to set before the world their humorous
versions--perversions, it would be hardly fair to say--of Parliamentary
proceedings. Mr. Lucy's touch is light and original, imparting an
appearance of interest and entertainment to the dullest debate, and of
verisimilitude to the most doubtful statements. Yet the "Diary" is not
without its value as a record, while it remains an amusing commentary
upon the work of the Session, and an entirely inoffensive caricature of
the men and speeches with whom it deals.
In 1884, when the entertainer's platform was offering inducements
superior to those of the stage, Mr. George Grossmith began a series of
sketches in _Punch_, entitled "Very Trying," the fourth article of which
contained a skit of Mr. Flowers, the Police Magistrate at Bow Street,
under the heading of "The Good-humoured Magistrate," and another dealt
with Mr. Vaughan. Then came his funny musical sketches, with a few bars
of absurd music sprinkled here and there in imitation of the London
concert books. A few songs he also contributed to the paper, "The Duke
of Seven Dials" becoming "popular even unto Hackney." Then, in
collaboration with his brother, Mr. Weedon Grossmith, he produced "The
Diary of a Nobody." It was a domestic record of considerable length,
which dealt in an extremely earnest way with Mr. Samuel Porter, who
lived in a small villa in Holloway, and had trouble with his drains, and
was sometimes late at the office, with similar circumstances of striking
interest and concern, which seemed to him to call for public notice. The
"Diary" was afterwards republished in book form.
The light and dainty touch of Mr. Andrew Lang has not been denied to
_Punch_. A number of trifles in verse appeared in 1883 and the two
following years, the most important of them being a sonnet to Colonel
Burnaby--the one contribution, it may be said, that the author has
thought well to republish. Some years later he produced the laughable
series "The Confessions of a Duffer"--papers so humorous that it is
difficult to accept Mr. Lang's disclaimer that "a comic paper is a thing
in which I have no freedom to write."
Besides Mr. W. Ralston, with his single contribution of "K.G.--Q.E.D."
(November 22nd, 1884), Miss May Kendall was the chief comer of the year
1885. This lady helps to make up _Punch's_ bevy of lady literary
contributors--Miss Betham-Edwards, Mrs. Frances Collins, Lady Campbell,
Miss Burnand (an occasional reviewer, or "Baronitess"), Miss
Hollingshead, and Mrs. Leverson, being the others. She is one of the few
lady humorists of any consequence in her day. Women, as a rule, are
humorists neither born nor made. Often enough they are wits, more
frequently satirists. They can make, we are told, but they cannot take,
a joke; at any rate, they are usually out of their element in the comic
arena. Moreover, as butts for the caricaturist they are unsatisfactory,
for in proportion as his efforts are successful, his sense of chivalry
is outraged; and we have seen how Keene and others recoiled from the
idea. Only on one occasion did Mr. Furniss make the attempt, and that
indirectly and in a sense unintentionally--and the circumstance brought
a miniature storm about his ears. No woman has ever yet been a
caricaturist, in spite of the fact that her femininity befits her
pre-eminently for the part. That she has desisted is a mercy for which
man may be devoutly thankful. At the present time the rule here laid
down as to lady humorists is proved by an exception in the person of
Miss Murphy, a lady, it is said, of much beauty, who worked her way up
from a subordinate position to the editorship of "The Melbourne Punch,"
a really comic production; but the unequal battle that would follow any
extensive imitation of her example is altogether too painful to
contemplate.
Miss Kendall's first poems, which were introduced to the notice of
_Punch_ by Mr. Andrew Lang in sincere admiration of their cleverness,
were "The Lay of the Ancient Trilobite," and "Ballad of the
Ichthyosaurus," which were printed in the numbers for January 24th and
February 14th, 1885. It is Miss Kendall's peculiar talent that she is
able to extract delicate humour out of the most unpromising subjects,
and even in these lays, which together constituted her maiden effort,
the characteristic is clearly shown. One verse may serve as an example;
it is from the poem which shows how the Ichthyosaurus aspires to a
higher life, and how the all-absorbent Ether remains in triumph after we
have played out our little parts to their puny end:--
"And we, howsoever we hated,
And feared, or made love, or believed,
For all the opinions we stated,
The woes and the wars we achieved,
We too shall lie idle together--
In very uncritical case;
And no one will win--but the Ether
That fills circumambient space."
Quaintly humorous ideas are spread among her score of contributions--and
tenderness, too; but it is as a humorous versifier of refinement and
originality that she has appealed strongly to _Punch_ readers, although,
as she herself says, "it seemed very wonderful to be _in Punch_, which
I had venerated from my youth up."
The single contribution of Mr. Brandon Thomas has a rather interesting
story. It was a patriotic song of a stirring sort, called "Britannia's
Volunteers," composed at a time--in 1885--when patriotism was thick in
the air. It was put to music by Mr. Alfred Allen; and two days after it
was written, Mr. Thomas was at the house of Mr. Woodall, M.P., and there
he sang the song. An old gentleman, who covered his mouth and chin with
his hand, sat in the front row, and levelled a piercing look at the
singer, listening with intense interest. During the second verse Mr.
Thomas, who was much affected by the gazer, sang straight at the aged
owner of the wonderful eyes:--
"They were no conscripts Marlbro' led,
But freemen--Volunteers,
A free-born race from fathers bred
That won for us Poictiers;
No conscript names were on the roll--
All heroes dead and gone--
That blazoned bright on Victory's scroll
The name of Wellington:
And Inkerman's immortal height
Will tell for many a day
How sternly sons of Freedom fight,
Let odds be what they may.
Thus Liberty scorns vain alarms,
And answers back with cheers!
_No conscript legions flogged to arms
Have yet flogged Volunteers!_"
Then the masking hand was removed, and the face of Mr. Gladstone was
revealed. The sight of him seemed to stimulate the singer, an
enthusiastic Conservative, and as he gave forth the last verse, with
singular effect, his eyes so filled with tears that he could hardly see
the piano keys:--
"They think to crush old England,
And take her mighty place!
When they wipe out from ev'ry land
The language of her race;
When Justice meekly sheathes her sword,
And Freemen ne'er make laws;
When Tyrants rule by force and fraud
And dead is Freedom's cause;
When Liberty shall see her home
Low levelled with the turf,
And watch each son in turn become
A tyrant-driven serf;
When Freedom's sacred name's forgot
Within the hearts of men--
They'll crush us to the earth, but not--
By Heav'n!--but not till then!"
When it was finished, Mr. Gladstone applauded vigorously, as though
unconscious of the pointed way in which the verse had been sung at him,
or respectful perhaps of the sincerity of the singer; and Mr. Burnand,
who was present, and had been watching the scene with much amusement,
enquired, aside, "Who wrote that?" "I did." "When?" "Two days ago."
"Have you sent it anywhere?" "No." "Then let me have it." So with the
metre slightly changed it appeared in _Punch_ on May 23rd.
Some of the most delicate and humorous _vers de société_ of the day have
come from Mr. Warham St. Leger, and some of the best have appeared since
the end of 1886 in the pages of _Punch_. "The Lay of the Lost Critic"
was the first of his contributions, and it was sent in, not by its
author, but by a friend who had read it. So well was it thought of that
Mr. St. Leger was invited at once to become a contributor, and
accordingly he sent in many poems during the four years that followed,
together with odd papers in the form of letters, especially on
pseudo-scientific lines. All these poems were collected into a volume
entitled "Ballads from _Punch_" in which perhaps the most striking are
that "To my Hairdresser," and the irresistibly comic satire on modern
ordnance, in which during a naval battle, after all the fighting has
been done by ramming, "the last stern order of the brave" is whispered
through the ship: "We're going to fire the guns!!" This desperate course
is taken and described--the air grows thick and dark with broken
breech, flying tube, and disrupted armour-plate, and when all was over--
"... They punished the seven survivors
For wasting the ordnance stores."
[Illustration: F. ANSTEY.
(_From a Photograph by Messrs. Bassano, Limited._)]
Mr. Anstey (Guthrie) was already famous for his little series of
successful books, "Vice Versâ," "The Giant's Robe," "The Tinted Venus,"
"The Black Poodle," and "A Fallen Idol," when he was invited to
contribute to _Punch_. In each and all of these stories there had been a
clear and original idea, worked out with ingenuity and invested with
rich and delicate humour. Their author was clearly a man for _Punch_. So
thought Mr. Burnand, and Mr. Anstey shared the opinion. On November 4th,
1885, therefore, appeared his first contribution "Faux et Preterea
Nihil." His work was consistently good, and at the end of 1886 he was
called to the Table, taking his place and eating his first Dinner in
January, 1887.
Mr. Anstey's writings attracted attention from the beginning, and in
their reprinted form have been no less successful--the truest test of
quality. Among the most delightful of these was the "Model Music Hall
Songs"--songs and dramas _virginibus puerisque_, adapted to the
requirements of the members of the London County Council which sought
out and found indecency in a marionette's pursuit of a butterfly. The
idea opened up to Mr. Anstey a comic vista, which he has developed for
our delectation. The songs and dances, with their words and directions,
are for the most part screamingly funny, consisting partly in the
perfectly realised absurdity and inanity of the performance, and partly
in that quality of absolute truthfulness to life which we are forced to
realise in the presentation of them. Laughter is often produced by the
mere faithfulness of an imitation, whether the thing copied is funny or
not. Simple mimicry has the power to make us laugh; and over that power,
in all its phases of motive, act, and talk, Mr. Anstey has absolute
control. In addition, he has a genius for plot-making and verse-writing,
be it original or parody, which in its own line is unsurpassed in modern
literature. In his analysis of character and motive he seems to set
before us our own weak selves laid bare, until his _voces populi_ become
_voces animi_, the voice of the people speaking unpleasantly like the
voice of conscience.
In this comic reproduction of actual experience Mr. Anstey has travelled
over the road pointed out by Mr. Burnand in his "Happy Thoughts" and
"Out of Town;" but, adding greatly to the scientific truth of it, he
seems to have lost something of the geniality and joviality of the form.
Mr. Anstey has placed Society on the dissecting-table, and probing with
a little less of the sympathy shown by Mr. du Maurier, he carries his
observation, consciously or unconsciously, to a much farther and more
merciless point. Not that he has no kindly feeling for his subjects; he
has--but he reserves it for his good people. Towards his snobs and cads
and prigs he is pitiless; he turns his microscope upon them, and with
far less mercy than is to be found in a vivisector he lays bare their
false hearts, points to their lying tongues, and tears them out without
a pang of remorse. It is all in fun, of course; but it is unmistakable.
Still, who shall find fault with what is the essence of justice and
truth, which mercy only interferes with to weaken?
The burlesques in the "Model Music Hall Songs" are often as good as
their originals--just as some of the Rejected Addresses by the Smiths
were as good as the genuine poems they parodied; and the representation
of them is placed before the reader with more than photographic truth.
In "So Shy!" we see the lady "of a mature age and inclined to a
comfortable embonpoint," who comes forward and sings--
"I'm a dynety little dysy of the dingle,
So retiring and so timid and so coy--
If you ask me why so long I have lived single,
I will tell you--'tis because I am so shoy."
It is a notable fact that songs of this sort were driven off the
better-class music-hall stage about this time, and there is little doubt
that Mr. Anstey, to whom Mr. Bernard Partridge afterwards rendered
artistic help, took yeoman's share in the campaign. More certain it is
that with "Mr. Punch's Young Reciter" he effectively suppressed the
drawing-room spouter. No one with a sense of humour who has read that
series can now stand up and recite a poem of a sentimental or an heroic
nature from the pens of Mr. Clement Scott or Mr. G. R. Sims without
genius to back him; and no one who heard it could retain his gravity to
the end. "Burglar Bill" melted almost to repentance by the innocent
child who asked him to burgle her doll's house, and whose salvation was
finally wrought by the gift of the baby's jamtart--killed the Young
Reciter by dint of pure ridicule and honest fun. He has made an
unsophisticated reciter as impossible as a sympathetic and sentimental
audience.
And in "Voces Populi"--the popular dramas in dialogue, in which the
conversation accurately and concisely describes the character,
temperament, and tastes of the speaker--there is a humorous verbal
photography of extraordinary vividness. 'Arry is no longer a symbol and
a type, as he is in Mr. Milliken's hands; he is a definite person in one
particular position in life and no other, and what he says could not, we
feel, possibly have been said in any other way, nor by any other person.
And so along the whole gamut of the classes through which Mr. Anstey
leads us. The humour is penetrating, and it is difficult to say where
the truth ends and the caricature begins. Who can forget the visit to
the Tudor Exhibition, when Henry VIII's remarkable hat was on view?
"'Arry," says 'Arriet to her escort; "look 'ere; fancy a king goin'
about in a thing like that--pink with a green feather! Why, I wouldn't
be seen in it myself!" 'Arry, who is clearly _farceur_, replies with a
pretty wit: "Ah, but that was ole 'Enery all over, that was; he wasn't
one for show. He liked a quiet, unassumin' style of 'at, he did. 'None
o' yer loud pot'ats for Me!' he'd tell the Royal 'atters; 'find me a
tile as won't attract people's notice, or you won't want a tile
yerselves in another minute!' An' you may take yer oath they served him
pretty sharp, too!" And so it is all through; the talk of the people, of
everybody in all sorts of positions in life, is recorded in these
"Voces," and in all there is the same quality of nature.
In "Travelling Companions," nearly as amusing and quite as observant, we
are made to feel that the two heroes detest each other hardly more than
Mr. Anstey detests Culcherd, the more unsympathetic and contemptible of
the two. They are nearly as despicable as they are funny, and their
creator has little pity for them on that account. There is a "plentiful
lack of tenderness," but an abundance of humour to excuse it. This
quality is not visible in "Mr. Punch's Pocket Ibsen"--a parody so good
that we sometimes wonder if the part we are reading is not really from
the hand of the Norwegian master. Nothing, surely, could be truer,
nothing touched with a lighter hand than "Pill-doctor Herdal"--an
achievement attained solely by a profound study of the dramatist. Again,
in "The Man from Blankley's" and in "Lyre and Lancet" we have social
satires grafted on to a most entertaining plot--a creation in both cases
which may be compared with Keene's drawings for observation, and with
Goldsmith's and Molière's plays for the happy construction of these
comedies of errors. The plots assuredly would have extorted the
admiration of Labiche himself, so complicated and ingenious are they.
Besides, everything seems so natural, so inevitable, "so much of a
lesson," that it is hardly to be wondered at that "The Man from
Blankley's" was on more than one occasion actually given out as the text
for a sermon delivered from the pulpit.
Another excuse for music-hall treatment of an exquisite sort is afforded
by the story of "Under the Rose," which is inimitable. For example:--
THE SISTERS SARCENET (_on stage_): "You men are deceivers
and awfully sly. Oh, you _are_!"
MALE PORTION OF AUDIENCE (_as is expected from them_):
"No, we _aren't_!"
THE SISTERS S. (_archly_): "Now you _know_ you are!
You come home with the milk; should your poor wife ask why,
'Pressing business, my pet,' you serenely reply,
When you've really been out on the 'Tiddle-y-hi!'
Yes, you _have_!"
MALE AUDIENCE (_as before_): "No, we've _not_!"
THE SISTERS S. (_with the air of accusing angels_): "Why,
you _know_ you have!"
It is sometimes objected that the root of Mr. Anstey's success lies near
the surface, and is nothing but the vividness of his dialogues. It is a
great deal more; it lies in the truth of his characters, subtly drawn,
but irresistible, and, now and again, tenderly pathetic. Thus may you
see the optimist and pessimist, and the link between them, in the
following scene in the Mall on Drawing-Room Day:--
CHEERY OLD LADY (_delighted_): "I could see all the coachmen's 'ats
beautiful. We'll wait and see 'em all come out, John, won't we?
They won't be more than a hour and a half in there, I dessay."
A PERSON WITH A FLORID VOCABULARY: "Well, if I'd ha' known all I
was goin' to see was a set o' blanky nobs shut up in their
blank-dash kerridges, blank my blanky eyes if I'd ha' stirred a
blanky foot, s'elp me dash, I wouldn't!"
A VENDOR (_persuasively_): "The kerrect lengwidge of hevery flower
that blows--one penny!"
In the composition of his "Voces" and kindred work, it has been the
practice of Mr. Anstey to visit the needful spot, where he would try to
seize the salient points and the general tone, the speakers and the
scene, trusting to luck for a chance incident, feature, or sentence that
might provide a subject. Sometimes he would have to go empty away; but
as a rule he would find enough to provide the rough material for a
sketch. Sometimes, too, he would combine hints and anecdotes received
from his acquaintance with his own experience and invention; on rarer
occasions he would happen upon an incident which could be worked up into
a sketch very much as it actually occurred, though with strict selection
and careful elaboration. On the whole it may be taken that the
conversations are mostly what _might_ have happened, but that they never
were shorthand reproductions of overheard talk; and the incidents are
almost invariably invented. Occasionally something in an exhibition or
show would suggest a typical comment, or a casual remark might provide
an idea for a character; but a good deal is certainly unconscious
reminiscence and fragmentary observation, and the residue pure
guess-work.
Of the artistic quality of Mr. Anstey's work there can be no
question--neither of its humour, nor of its value as a complete
reflection of English, and especially of Cockney, life. Old-fashioned
people may and do denounce it as newfangled; but does anyone doubt the
sort of welcome that would have been accorded to it by Jerrold and
Thackeray and Gilbert à Beckett if they had had the good fortune to have
an Anstey in their midst half-a-century ago?
[Illustration: R. C. LEHMANN
(_From a Photograph by Elliott and Fry._)]
Mr. R. C. Lehmann, grand-nephew of W. H. Wills, one of _Punch's_ early
crew, had a good reputation as a Cambridge wit before Mr. Burnand
captured him for _Punch_. In April, 1889, he began to edit "The Granta,"
the clever "barrel-organ of the Cambridge undergraduates," satirical,
brightly humorous, and freshly youthful. On the 14th of the following
December there appeared in _Punch_ his first contribution, a dialogue
entitled "Among the Amateurs," which has since been reprinted in "The
Billsbury Election."
Mr. Lehmann lost no time in devising series of articles, which all
_Punch_ readers will remember. Such were "Modern Types" and "Mr. Punch's
Prize Novels" (one of the most successful, including parodies of a score
of the leading authors of the day), "In the Know," "The Adventures of
Picklock Holes," "Letters to Abstractions," "Lord Ormont's Mate and
Matey's Aminta," "Manners and Customs," and "Studies in the New
Poetry." Within four months of his first contribution Mr. Lehmann was
promoted to the Table--an unprecedentedly rapid promotion--and he has
ever since been one of the most diligent of contributors. Literary merit
apart, Mr. Lehmann's "Conversational Hints for Young Shooters" has
probably been received with greater favour throughout the country, on
account of its subject and its felicitous treatment, than any of the
young author's works. Country readers are essentially sportsmen--in
conversation, if not in fact; and nothing in humorous writing delights
them more than a clever burlesque on their favourite topic. You may hear
the book praised where one of the writer's more ambitious efforts may
pass unnoticed; and one of its passages is quoted with unction in many a
shooting party. "Johnson, who was placed forward, again stood under a
canopy of pheasants, and shot with brilliant success into the gaps....
The only theory which is accepted as explaining the catastrophe is one
that imputes a malignant cunning to the birds."
The year that saw Mr. Lehmann's appointment witnessed also the calling
of his kinsman, Mr. Barry Pain, one of the chief contributors to "The
Granta." His story of "The Hundred Gates," printed in "Cornhill," struck
Mr. Burnand as a work of promise; indeed, Mr. Burnand is reported to
have found it so funny that he thought he must have written it himself.
The annexing of the writer was at once effected. One of his earliest
contributions to _Punch_ was the amusing parody of Tennyson's
"Throstle," just before Christmas, 1889; and a collection of comic
Cambridge definitions in imitation of Euclid followed. Then came a set
of short stories called "Storicules," and a series of articles
constituting a mock guide to conduct for young ladies. Since 1892 Mr.
Pain's work has fallen away, probably only for a time; for _Punch_ has
proved well-nigh irresistible to every genuine humorist who is anxious
to bring his faculty to bear on the risibility of the English public.
Mr. Henry Pottinger Stephens, one of the wits of the "Sporting Times,"
the founder of the "Topical Times," and member of the staff of the
"Daily Telegraph," was for two or three years on the outside salaried
Staff of _Punch_. Contributing from 1889 to 1891, he wrote a series of
"queer tales" as well as some attacks on the then South Western Railway
management, under the title of "The Ways of Waterloo." Such dramatic
criticisms as were not undertaken by Mr. Burnand or relegated by him to
Mr. Arthur à Beckett, and numerous trifles besides, fell to him to do;
but on his departure for America the connection was broken, and not
afterwards resumed.
Passing by Mr. C. W. Cooke, we find Mr. Charles Geake, member of the Bar
and Fellow of Clare College, Cambridge, as the chief recruit of the year
1890. To "The Granta" he had sent a casual contribution, and Mr. R. C.
Lehmann, appreciating his talent, proved his esteem by installing Mr.
Geake as the Cambridge editor of that paper. From "The Granta" to
_Punch_ has become a natural ascent, and on July 12th, 1890, Mr. Geake
made his first bow to London readers. Three months later a packet of
_Punch_ office envelopes announced that he had been placed on the
footing of a regular outside contributor, and that it was now his
privilege to send his work straight to the printer's. At first he wrote
nothing but verse--society verse, ballades, rondeaux, topical verse, and
parodies in verse and prose, and then burlesques of books, such as the
capital imitation of "The Tale of Two Telegrams" (a "Dolly Dialogue" in
the manner of "Anthony Hope"), p. 97, Vol. CVII., September 1st, 1894,
and "The Blue Gardenia" (October 20th, 1894, p. 185), with various skits
and topical matter. "Lays of the Currency" are among the chief of Mr.
Geake's poetical "series," and "Chronicles of a Rural Parish"--the
adventures and misadventures of a rural parishioner who wishes to
patronise the Parish Councils Act--his principal effort in comic prose.
The year 1892 brought three new writers: Mr. Gerald F. Campbell, who
began by contributing (on April 23rd) poems of sentiment, such as "Town
Thoughts from the Country," and three months later "The Cry of the
Children" and "Alone in London;" R. F. Murray, the American-born author
of "The Scarlet Gown," who, through Mr. Andrew Lang's introduction, sent
in a few verses shortly before his death; and Mr. Roberts, who finds his
place among the artists.
Mr. George Davies was an important accession of the following year. On
only half-a-dozen occasions had he ever been in print, and that in
obscure publications, when he composed an "Ethnographical Alphabet,"
beginning "A is an Afghan." The writer, who is something of a
tsiganologue, emboldened by his success, followed up his alphabet, which
appeared January 21st, 1893, and within a year had placed to his credit
three-score contributions, most of them in verse--rather a remarkable
achievement for one heretofore considered a mere bookworm and dryasdust.
Another Cambridge man of originality and ingenuity, mainly in verse, is
Mr. Arthur A. Sykes--a "Cantabard," as he himself would admit,
peculiarly skilled in "Cambrijingles." He began with "In the Key of
Ruthene" on May 6th, 1893, and followed it up with a laughable ode "To a
Fashion-Plate Belle." It was accompanied with a comic, though hardly
exaggerated, design of the female figure as depicted in ladies'
fashion-papers--the drawing being also by Mr. Sykes. Since then many
verses by him have appeared, in which quaint conception, sudden turn of
thought, and strange achievements in rhyming (as in "The Tour That Never
Was," August 19th, 1893) are the chief figures. Then came the promotion
embodied in the privilege of sending his contributions direct to the
printer before, instead of after, being submitted to the editorial eye;
and a good deal of prose work followed, such as the "Scarlet Afternoon,"
a skit in dialogue suggested by Mr. R. S. Hichens' "Green Carnation."
Light verse from the Rev. Anthony C. Deane began on August 20th, 1892
("Ad Puellam"), but he was already a master of the art. Two months
before his little volume of "Frivolous Verses" had appeared, and so
struck Mr. Andrew Lang that he reviewed it in a "Daily News"
leading-article, invited the author to go and see him, and suggested his
writing for _Punch_. Mr. Deane had already been a "Granta" poet, and was
well known to Mr. Lehmann, who, finding that Mr. Lang had already
spoken to Mr. Anstey, gladly added a word of introduction to the Editor.
By such means as these, oftener than by promiscuous outside application,
is new blood found: the best men do not, as a rule, force forward their
own work. Mr. Deane at that time was not twenty-two, nor was he yet
ordained. He passed the necessary period at the same theological
college--Cuddesdon--that years before had sheltered Mr. Burnand, and
went on contributing verses to _Punch_, to the number (1894) of sixty or
seventy; so that the course of his _Punch_ love has run very smooth.
Another literary godson of Mr. Lehmann's, and child of "The Granta," is
Mr. Owen Seaman. Through the good offices of the former, Mr. Seaman's
"Rhyme of the Kipperling," nearly filling the first page of _Punch_, was
inserted in the number for January 13th, 1894. This imitation of Mr.
Rudyard Kipling's "Rhyme of the Three Sealers" was its own
recommendation, and since that time Mr. Seaman has been one of the most
prolific outside contributors of the year. His series comprise
"She-Notes"--a skit on "Keynotes" and "Airs Resumptive"--of which the
fourth, "To Julia in Shooting-togs (and a Herrickose Vein)" is an
admirable specimen of its class. Art and political criticism in verse
and prose are employed to illustrate the writer's facility and classic
taste.
To this list, necessarily incomplete, in spite of its length, a few
names remain to be added, and an incongruous party they form. Professor
Forbes; Mr. J. C. Wilson, mantle manufacturer; and Mr. J. J. Lushington,
of the Suffolk Chief Constable's Office, first a soldier and finally an
auctioneer (a giant of nearly six feet seven, who would have formed a
good fourth to Thackeray, "Jacob Omnium," and Dean Hole)--men of every
sort and condition, brought together by the universal brotherhood of
humour. Mrs. Frances Collins was a contributor, and her _Punch_
utterance upon Judge Bayley's curious decision at Westminster County
Court in January, 1877, as to next-door music that is "intolerable," yet
not "actionable" ("Music hath (C)Harms"), is still remembered and
quoted. Another lady-wit of the present day is Mr. Lehmann's sister,
Lady Campbell, who wrote the women's letters in the series of "Manners
and Customs," while her brother took the male side of the
correspondence. Mrs. Leverson has been the contributor of numerous
clever prose parodies and general articles, the chief of which up to
June, 1895, has been "The Scarlet Parasol." Mr. James Payn has also
worked for _Punch_, but very little--only to the extent of placing some
little pleasantry at its service, and now and then suggesting a subject
for illustration. A set of rhymes by Mr. H. D. Traill, reprinted in his
volume entitled "Number Twenty," was his sole contribution, the
"Saturday Review" having had a sort of prescriptive right to all his
work of this description. It is the greater pity, for even the lightest
of his verses have the true ring and, according to some, much of the
vigour characteristic of Mr. Rudyard Kipling's work. Mr. Arthur
Armitage, too, was for many years a contributor. Being a solicitor in
practice, he kept his identity a secret. He was always known to the
Editor and Proprietors as "Mr. A. Armstrong," and up to this present
publication he never revealed the levity of his youth. His first
contribution was "Marriage Customs of the Great Britons," which was
inserted in the "Pocket-Book" for 1855. After writing regularly for this
offspring of _Punch's_, Mr. Armitage was, in 1861, specially invited to
contribute to the paper itself on topics political, social, and
commercial--only a satire on "The Baby of the Papal States" (Louis
Napoleon) being rejected, on the ground that, were it inserted, war with
France would be inevitable. On Mark Lemon's death Mr. Armitage ceased
his connection as an "outside regular," and five years later reprinted a
number of his most amusing _Punch_ verses and articles under the title
of "Winkleton-on-Sea." Frederick Gale--better known as "The Old Buffer"
and as the great cricket authority--wrote a short series for _Punch_.
Then Mr. Walter Sichel, since the beginning of 1892, has contributed
some prose and more verse, such as the series of "Men who have taken me
in--to dinner," "Lays of Modern Home," "Inns and Outs," as well as
"Rhymes out of Season," "The Diary of an Old Joke," and the original
"Queer Queries." The late magistrate, Mr. Hosack, too, contributed
several sharp police-court sketches; and "Arthur Sketchley" had a
capital story to tell, but spoiled it in the telling. Even H. J. Byron,
contrary to general belief, tried his hand as a _Punch_ contributor, but
he was somewhat dull. He admitted, in fact, that he wanted to keep all
his fun for his plays, and so starved his _Punch_ work of its legitimate
humour. Mr. Arthur E. Viles's verses on "Temple Bar" (December, 1877)
may be mentioned, and Mr. Leopold Godfrey Turner's name must not be
omitted. But, of the contributors of trifles, a number must remain
anonymous--as, indeed, many do from choice; inevitably so before 1847,
when it first became the practice to enter up outsiders' work in their
own names. And among these occasional contributors the present writer is
proud to range himself.
In looking at the literature of _Punch_, we become sensible of a change
not dissimilar to that which we find to have taken place in its art.
There is nowadays no Jerrold, whose fulminating passion and fine frenzy
often came dangerously near to "high-falutin'." There is perhaps no
versifier at the Table with quite the same fancy or taste as Gilbert
Abbott à Beckett, Shirley Brooks, and Percival Leigh. But we have
instead a keener observation of the life and customs of the day, an
ingenuity and an elegance that go better with the taste and habit of
thought of the times. In the old days it was not uncommon in discussing
_Punch's_ poetry to urge in apology that--
Wit will shine
Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line.
Nowadays, when comedy and rapier have to a great extent replaced farce
and sword, finish is accounted of greater importance than of yore, and
grace and daintiness are accepted where simple fun was formerly the
aim--an aim, by the way, which was as frequently missed as now. Let the
reader who is inclined to be as severe on latter-day _Punch_ as on
latter-day everything, take down one of the early volumes, and seek for
the side-splitting articles and epigrams, the verse apoplectic with fun,
which we are taught to expect there. He will learn that it is not so
much that the quality of _Punch_ has changed, despite the great names
of the past. He will find that the change is due rather to modern
fashion and to modern views than to any deterioration of _Punch's_. Good
things are there now, as then; and now, as then, many of the best
writers in the country contribute periodically to its pages. With verse
and article, epigram and parody, _Punch_ continues to be a record and a
mirror of his times--a comic distorting mirror perhaps, but still a
glass of fashion and of history, with fun for its mercury, which,
through its literature, pleasantly and agreeably reflects the deeds and
the thoughts of the people. What of it, if his verse now and again is
only passable? Sometimes it is fine--always acceptable, and rarely below
an elevated established standard; anyhow, some years ago, Mr. Joseph
Chamberlain's single offering was rejected on its demerits by the
"monument of British humour." Perhaps the Editor judged it as _Punch's_
railway-porter judged an old lady's pet in accordance with railway
rules: Cats is "dogs," and rabbits is "dogs," and so's parrots; but this
'ere tortis is a hinsect, and there ain't no--need--for it. And the tone
of _Punch's_ more serious utterances is now that of the dining-room
rather than of the debating society and the vestry room. Mr. Ruskin,
among others, deplored _Punch's_ kid gloves and evening-dress, when
amiable obituary notices on Baron Bethell--(had he not been _Punch's_
counsel in the old days?)--and the Bishop of Winchester were published.
"Alas, Mr. Punch," he wrote, "is it come to this? And is there to be no
more knocking down, then? And is your last scene in future to be shaking
hands with the devil?"[49] _Punch_ can still hit hard; though "knocking
down" is no longer his main delight. His text has become as refined as
his art--and that, of course, is the reason that it no longer commands
the chief attention of the class that once was led by it. At that time
its art alone carried it into circles that abhorred its politics, and it
is recorded that Mulready was driven to excuse himself to one of the
Staff for not reading the text by the lame confession that he was "no
bookworm!"
FOOTNOTES:
[48] Having mentioned the name of Edmund Yates, I may here contradict
the statement that that distinguished journalist ever wrote for _Punch_.
The belief arose partly through Martin F. Tupper's "My Life as an
Author":--"I remember also how he dropped in on me at Albany one
morning, just as I happened to be pasting into one of my books a few
quips and cranks anent my books from _Punch_. He adjured me 'not to do
it! for Heaven's sake spare me!' covering his face with his hands.
'What's the matter, friend?' 'I wrote all those,' added he in earnest
penitence, 'and I vow faithfully never to do it again!' 'Pray don't make
a rash promise, Edmund, and so unkind a one too; I rejoice in all this
sort of thing--it sells my books, besides--I'se Maw-worm--I likes to be
despised!' 'Well, it's very good-natured of you to say so, but I really
never will do it again;' and the good fellow never did--so have I lost
my most telling advertisement" (p. 326). Considering, however, that
Yates was on the worst of terms with Mark Lemon, we may easily believe
that he did not contribute to his paper, and as during his early
friendship with Mr. Burnand he never hinted at writing for _Punch_ as an
outsider, the statement may be dismissed. Moreover, so fantastic is the
scene described that, if strictly accurate, it was most likely a
practical joke played off upon the egotistical old gentleman, whose
worst enemies never accused him of a sense of humour.
[49] "Fors," 1874 (p. 125).