The History of "Punch"

Then the number of inventions and innovations forestalled by Punch's pen are many. In December, 1848, much is made of a proposed "opera telakouphanon"—a forecast of the telephone, phonograph, and theatrophone combined:—

—a thirty years' prophecy. The following year he represented a lady listening to music by telegraph; and the kinetoscope is only now waiting to fulfil Mr. du Maurier's forecast of many years ago. If Mr. Edison has not yet done quite all that Mr. Punch foretold, is not that rather Mr. Edison's than Punch's fault?

In an unhappy moment in 1847 Punch proposed the use of umbrellas and house-fronts for advertising purposes, and the hint was promptly taken. In the previous year he foretold the use of the Thames Tunnel as a railway conduit; and his sketch of a zebra harnessed to a carriage in the streets of London was realised forty years later. The great "Missing Word Competition" of 1892 was forestalled by Punch by four-and-thirty years (p. 53, Vol. XXXV., August 7th, 1858). Leech's "Mistress of the Hounds," too—how fantastic the idea was thought in those days, and laughed at accordingly!—has since become a hard, astraddle, uncompromising fact; and the lady's safety riding-skirt, that attached itself to the saddle when the lady lost her seat, anticipated by thirty years the patent for a similar contrivance taken out in 1884. Indeed, Punch's picture of November, 1854, was put in as evidence before Mr. Justice Wright in April, 1893, when an action between two sartorial artists turned upon the point of anteriority, and the picture won the case.

Common-sense, and shrewdness of observation and judgment, which are at the root of amateur prophecy, brought as much honour to Punch as ever Old Moore obtained through one of his lucky flukes. In December, 1893, the Prince of Wales opened the Hugh Myddleton Board School, the finest in London, which had been erected on the site of the old Clerkenwell prison; and on the invitation card to the ceremony appeared a reproduction of the Punch picture of May, 1847, which accompanied an altercation between "School and Prison, who've lately risen As opposition teachers." This was published nearly a quarter of a century before Mr. Forster's Education Act, and concludes with the prophecy curiously fulfilled in the case of this particular institution. To this picture, in which the county gaol, untenanted, looks scowlingly at the crowded school, the Prince feelingly referred when he spoke of the scepticism with which the statement was regarded, that the institution of "free" schools would shut the prisons up. But a volume might be filled with instances of the occasions on which Punch has seen with his eyes, and thought with the front of his brain—how his demands for necessary innovations (such, for example, as fever carriages in 1861) were quickly acted upon, and how his serious mood has enforced the respect which mere geniality might have failed to secure.

He is not, of course, entitled to invariable congratulation for his attitude towards art; but he has suffered as well as acted ill. When he derided the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, and joined in the storm of ridicule that swirled round the heads of Rossetti and his devoted and courageous friends, he doubtless acted within his rôle; but he utterly failed to see below the surface of the apparent affectation of the artists, and all he had to say of Sir John Millais' "Vale of Rest," in the lines descriptive of the year 1859, was

"Year Mr. Millais came out with those terrible nuns in the graveyard."

In the following year, however, Mr. Eastlake, afterwards of the National Gallery, made his mark in the paper as "Jack Easel," and a more intelligent view of art prevailed.

But neither has Art, as personified by the Royal Academy, recognised Punch, save by a couple of seats at the annual banquet. It is true that several of its members have drawn for it—Sir Frederic Leighton, Sir John Millais, Sir John Gilbert, Mr. Briton Riviere, Mr. Stacey Marks, Mr. G. A. Storey, and Fred Walker. But Punch's art has gone unnoticed, otherwise than by a square yard or two of wall space in the Black-and-White room at the annual exhibition. While the Academy has canonised many members whose names half a century later are forgotten, or are remembered only to be called up with a smile or a shrug, it has persistently ignored those who have employed the pencil instead of the brush, or have used ink instead of misusing paint. But it is unnecessary to pursue the subject farther; that the names of Keene, Leech, and Tenniel are not on the roll of the Academy is surely far more to the discredit of the institution than of the artists themselves, who presumably, from the Academic point of view, are "no artists." As Mr. du Maurier has pointed out, Punch's artists will have their revenge: "If the illustrator confine himself to his own particular branch, he must not hope for any very high place in the hierarchy of art. The great prizes are not for him! No doubt it will be all the same a hundred years hence—but for this: if he has done his work well, he has faithfully represented the life of his time, he has perpetuated what he has seen with his own bodily eyes; and for that reason alone his unpretending little sketches may, perhaps, have more interest for those who come across them in another hundred years than many an ambitious historical or classical canvas that has cost its painter infinite labour, imagination, and research, and won for him in his own time the highest rewards in money, fame, and Academical distinction. For genius alone can keep such fancy-work as this alive, and the so-called genius of to-day may be the scapegoat of to-morrow."

With "readings," lectures, and "entertainments," the members of Punch's Staff have often come strikingly before the public; so much so, indeed, that they have stepped from their studies and studios on to the platform as by a natural transition. Albert Smith's "Overland Mail" and "The Ascent of Mont Blanc," with the extraordinary success that attended them, doubtless set the fashion to the band of men who were always, in one sense at least, before the public. Thackeray's "Four Georges" and the "English Humorists" raised the standard of quality at once; and to that standard more than one of his contemporaries and successors has aimed at attaining, even though they never hoped to succeed. Every Editor of Punch—except perhaps Stirling Coyne—delivered such lectures in his day. Henry Mayhew took for his subject that of which he had a complete mastery, "London Labour and London Poor." Mark Lemon, whose knowledge of the metropolis was probably even more extensive and peculiar than Sam Weller's own, lectured on it in "About London," and gave recitals of "Falstaff" with a certain measure of success. Shirley Brooks spoke, as he was so well qualified to do, on "The Houses of Parliament;" and discourses were similarly delivered by Tom Taylor. Mr. Burnand's bright "Happy Thoughts" readings could be forgotten by none that heard them. James Hannay, laying humour aside, lectured on the more serious aspects of literature; and Cuthbert Bede talked of the literary and artistic friends of his Verdant Green career. Mr. Harry Furniss, with his delightful entertainments on "Portraiture" and "The Humours of Parliament," achieved a success undreamed of by the earlier Punch reciters; and Mr. du Maurier in his "Social Pictorial Satire" touched a literary and critical height that charmed every audience by its humour, its delicacy, and its admirable taste.

The theatrical stars of half a century march through Punch's pages in long procession, and matters of high theatrical politics engage the attention from year to year. Punch's interest in theatricals is hardly surprising when it is remembered how closely identified with the drama have been many members of the Staff. Douglas Jerrold was a successful playwright before ever Punch was heard of, and as the author of "Black-Eyed Susan" and "Time Works Wonders" he made his name popular with many who had hardly heard of his connection with "the great comic." It has been computed that the Punch writers, from first to last, have contributed no fewer than five hundred plays to the stage; and it may be mentioned as a curious fact that to "German Reed's" each successive Editor of Punch has contributed an "Entertainment." The Staff has on several occasions been seen upon the boards; and on countless occasions Punch has figured there, usually against his will. It but sufficed for Punch to make a hit for hungry provincial actors, either of stock companies or on tour, to pounce upon it and work it up into a play or an entertainment. Jerrold's brother-in-law, W. J. Hammond, who was at one time manager of the Strand Theatre, travelled with what must be considered the authorised show, thus described:

"A new Entertainment, called a

NIGHT

with

PUNCH!

Founded on the Series of Celebrated Papers of that highly humorous Periodical, from the pens of the acknowledged best Comic Writers of the day. Adapted and Arranged by R. B. Peake, Esq. As performed by Mr. W. J. Hammond Forty-two successive nights at the New Strand Theatre.... After which, a Monopolylogue entitled the

LAST MAN;

or,

PUNCH OUT OF TOWN"

—with five characters, all performed by Hammond, the whole reaching its climax when Punch, in propria persona, appeared and sang an "Epilogue Song."

But it was Mrs. Caudle, of course, that offered a bait too tempting to be resisted. There was Mrs. Keeley's authorised "Mrs. Caudle" in town; but simultaneously Mrs. Caudles cropped up in every town in the country. One of these was enacted by Mr. Warren, and his playbill of the Theatre Royal, Gravesend, dated August 7th, 1845, is before me as I write. "The Real Mrs. Caudle," he asserts, "having received an enthusiastic welcome from a Gravesend audience, and being pronounced far superior to any of the counterfeit Representatives, will have the honour of repeating her Curtain Lecture this and to-morrow evenings." "Mrs. Caudle at Gravesend" was, in fact, a "Comic Sketch" by C. Z. Barnett; and the programme decorated with a common engraving in impudent imitation of Leech's immortal cut, contained all the dramatis personæ of Jerrold's little domestic drama, including "Mrs. Caudle (the Original from Punch's Papers), Mr. Warren."

Six years later Mr. Briggs himself was lifted from Punch on to the stage (amongst others) of the Royal Marylebone Theatre, which then assiduously cultivated the equestrian drama. On November 14th, 1851, for the benefit of a lady called Mrs. MORETON BROOKES, there was played a "new grand dramatic equestrian spectacle, entitled the Maid of Saragossa; or, The Dumb Spy and Steed of Arragon—realising Sir David Wilkie's Celebrated Picture." As the Arragon Steed remained on the premises when the curtain fell on the first piece, it was obviously a pity to waste him; so, after he had finished realising Wilkie's picture, and had rested awhile, he stepped out of romance into high comedy, or, as the playbill simply put it—"After which will be presented from Sketches furnished from Punch's Domicile, Fleet Street, a New, Grand, Locomotive, Pedestrian, Equestrian, Go-ahead Extravaganza, entitled

MR. BRIGGS!

Or, House Keeping versus Horse Keeping"—

in which Mr. Briggs was played by Mr. Crowther, and Mrs. Briggs by the fair beneficiaire.

The first dramatic effort of Punch, in his individual quality and personality as a jester, was the pantomime of "King John, or Harlequin and Magna Charta." Punch had at that time become so popular, and was so generally regarded as the incarnation of all that was witty, that a commission was given for a pantomime that was to surpass for wit and humour any pantomime that had ever been written or thought of before. "They have given out," said Alfred Bunn in his vituperative "Word with Punch," "in distinct terms that none but themselves can write a pantomime, and modestly entitled the one they did write 'Punch's Pantomime' ... which they laboured so lustily, but so vainly, to puff into notoriety." It was written in 1842, by Lemon, Jerrold, and Henry Mayhew; but when it was read by the first-named to the Covent Garden Company, by whom it was produced, it was found to contain a great deal of wit, but very little fun. It was extensively amended in response to the representations of the pantomimists, and W. H. Payne managed to make a good deal of his part. The wit, however, militated greatly against the "go" and success of the piece, the prestige of its writers did not help it, and the experiment of a "Punch's Pantomime" was accordingly not repeated.

The cordial sympathy that has bound together so many of Punch's Staff in life has more than once taken the form of kindly charity in death or misfortune. To the performance given on behalf of the unhappy Angus Reach reference is made where the man and his work are considered. For Leigh Hunt—although he was not of the band—a theatrical performance was also given, and realised a large sum, and the benefit in aid of Charles H. Bennett's widow and children was even more successful. That interesting event is described later; but for the sake of history it may be well to reproduce the programme here:—

On this occasion, says an anonymous writer, "The celebrated cartoonist received the reception of the evening. The audience rose en masse and cheered. Tom Taylor, playing in his own piece the principal character, was, comparatively speaking, nowhere. The most interesting personality of the Punch Staff was unquestionably Tenniel."

Affiliated with Punch, in its membership at least, was that "Guild of Literature and Art" of which Charles Dickens was the father. Its theatrical career began in 1845 at the Royalty Theatre, Soho, at that time called Miss Kelly's, the initial performance being Ben Jonson's "Every Man in his Humour," with Mark Lemon as Brainworm and Dickens as Bobadil. (See p. 137.) On May 15th, 1848, much the same company, in aid of the fund for the endowment of the perpetual curatorship of Shakespeare's house at Stratford-on-Avon, gave the "Merry Wives of Windsor," when Dickens played Shallow; George Cruikshank, Pistol; John Leech, Slender; Mark Lemon, Falstaff; and other characters were represented by George Henry Lewes, John Forster, Dudley Costello, Augustus Egg, R.A., and Mr. Cowden Clarke—a goodly company. Mr. Sala says that Lemon's conception of Falstaff (which was also known to the public through the jovial editor's "readings"), though well understood, was "the worst he ever saw;" but Mrs. Cowden Clarke declared it "a fine embodiment of rich, unctuous raciness, no caricature, rolling greasiness and grossness, no exaggerated vulgarisation of Shakespeare's immortal 'fat knight,' but a florid, rotund, self-indulgent voluptuary—thoroughly at his ease, thoroughly prepared to take advantage of all gratification that might come in his way, and thoroughly preserving the manners of a gentleman accustomed to the companionship of a prince. John Leech's Master Slender," she continues, "was picturesquely true to the gawky, flabby, booty squire.... His mode of sitting on a stile, with his long ungainly legs dangling down ... ever and anon ejaculating his maudlin cuckoo cry of 'Oh sweet Ann Page,' was a delectable treat." Without disrespect to Leech's memory, it may be said that others of his friends did not form a similarly favourable opinion of his histrionic powers.

A company quite as notable in its way was that which played "Not so Bad as We Seem," by Lytton (with whom Punch had made his peace), at Devonshire House, on May 27th, 1851, before the Queen and the Prince Consort, at the instance of the Duke of Devonshire. The playbill deserves to be preserved here, although the only Punch names among the actors are those of Jerrold, Lemon, and Tenniel—the last-named of whom is the only survivor of them all.

Men.

Women.

Date of Play—The Reign of George I.
Scene—London.

Time supposed to be occupied, from the noon of the first day to the afternoon of the second.

And, lastly, may be mentioned the performance of Ben Jonson's play at Knebworth, in which, says Vizetelly, Douglas Jerrold, as Master Stephen, showed real talent and power. But the piece is not an entertaining one, as Lord Melbourne—with his bad habit of thinking aloud—bore disconcerting witness in his stall: "I knew well enough that the play would be dull, but not so damnably dull as this!"

FOR THE GUILD OF LITERATURE AND ART. (See p. 135.)

ContentsCHAPTER VI.

In the United States the providing of jokes for illustration in the comic press is to some extent a recognised, if a limited and illiberal, profession, he who follows it being commonly described as the "Unknown Man." Endowed with natural wit and invention, but denied the gift of draughtsmanship, this "dumb orator" is supposed to turn out jokes as other men would turn out chair-legs, and sends them in priced, like gloves, at so much a dozen, "on approval—for sale or return," with a suggested mise en scène complete, which the illustrator is recommended to adopt. How far the system answers its purpose I am unable to judge; but if the experience of Mr. Phil May may be taken as an example, there is every reason why the Man should remain Unknown. For, at the suggestion of a fellow-artist, he ordered five dollars-worth of original jokes, the price being quoted at a dollar per joke. His order was executed with punctuality and despatch, when Mr. May found, to his amusement and dismay, that three of the jokes were former Punch friends, and the remaining two were old ones of his own invention!

In the United Kingdom the joke-contributor is as a rule a disinterested person, usually seeking neither pay nor recognition; and so far as his estimate bears upon the value of his contribution, it must be admitted that his judgment is generally sound. But of the accepted jokes from unattached contributors, it is a notable fact that at least seventy-five per cent. come from North of the Tweed. Dr. Johnson, ponderous enough in his own humour, admitted that "much may be made of a Scotchman if he be caught young;" and it is probable that to him, as well as to Walpole—who suggested that proverbial surgical operation—is owing much of the false impression entertained in England as to Scottish appreciation of humour and of "wut." Some may retort that it is just the preponderance of Scotch collaboration that has rendered Punch at times a trifle dull. Certain it is that Punch is keenly appreciated in the North. In one of the public libraries of Glasgow it has been ascertained that it was second favourite of all the papers there examined by the public; and it has been asserted that in one portion of the moors and waters gillies have more than once been heard to say, "Eh, but that's a guid ane! Send that to Charlie Keene!"

Nevertheless, it must be admitted that Punch's dialect has not always pleased up there, where "the execrable attempts at broad Scotch which appear weekly in our old friend Punch" have before now been authoritatively denounced. Under the heading of "Probable Deduction" Punch had the following paragraph:—"A pertinacious Salvation Army captain was worrying a Scotch farmer, whom he met in the train, with perpetual inquiries as to whether 'he had been born again of Water and the Spirit.' At last McSandy replied, 'Aweel, I dinna reetly ken how that may be, but my good old feyther and mither took their toddy releegiously every nicht, the noo." Referring to this story—first cousin surely to Lover's joke in "Handy Andy" of the Irish witness who, when pressed as to his mother's religion, promptly replied, "She tuk whuskey in her tay!"—the critic remarks, "It is pretty wit; for Punch. But McSandy ought to speak in the Scottish tongue. Now, if 'night' is 'nicht,' why is 'right' 'reet'—either 'the noo' or at any other time? Hoots awa." Yet Punch has usually taken great pains to verify his dialects, and Charles Keene—to whom the legends usually came from his friends ready-made and carefully elaborated—would, as a rule, seek to have them confirmed by one or other of his Scottish friends in town.

Perhaps the greatest service that any Scot ever rendered to Punch (apart from drawing for it) was the "puir bodie" who explained that he found Lunnon so awfu' extravagant that he hadna been in it more than a few hours "when bang went saxpence!" The reader will be interested to learn that this expression—which may truthfully be said to have passed into the language—did really issue from the lips of a visitor from the neighbourhood of Glasgow. It was Sir John Gilbert who heard it, and repeated it to Mr. Birket Foster while they were seated resting from their labours of "hanging" in the galleries of the Royal Water Colour Society. On the private-view day that followed, Mr. Foster tried the effect of the joke on two ladies whom he accompanied into Bond Street to take tea; and as they exploded with laughter, he concluded that it was good enough for his friend Keene, to whom he thereupon sent it. The immediate success of the joke was amazing; and Mr. Foster was therefore the more surprised and amused a year afterwards to overhear a young "masher" calmly inform a barmaid serving on the Brighton pier that he was the originator of it, and that he possessed the original drawing!

Another favourite Scotch picture of Keene's is that in which a drunken workman, remonstrated with by the parson, protests that the latter is always blaming him for his drinking, but "You forget my droth!" This incident really occurred at Pitlochrie, and was told by the minister himself to Mr. Birket Foster, who handed it on to Keene; but—and here comes out one of the charming qualities of Keene's character—the real offender was not a man, but a woman. It was a chivalrous practice of Charles Keene's never to show a woman in a really undignified position; and when he was remonstrated with on the subject, on the ground that he distorted the truth unnecessarily, he would reply that "he could not be hard on the sex." But though "bang went saxpence" is a notable Punch joke—and it may be remarked that it is not less beloved of the political economist than of the Saturday Reviewer—it is not quite the best known. That position is easily attained by what is undoubtedly the most successful (that is to say, the most popular) mot of its kind ever composed in the English language.

It appeared in the Almanac for 1845 under "January," and, based upon the ingenious wording of an advertisement widely put forth by Eamonson & Co., well-known house furnishers of the day, ran as follows:—

WORTHY OF ATTENTION.

ADVICE TO PERSONS ABOUT TO MARRY,—Don't![13]

It is doubtful whether any line from any author is so often quoted as "Punch's advice." It crops up continually, almost continuously, though not exactly when least to be expected, as experience teaches us to expect it always; and I may assert from my own observation that it appears in one or other of the papers of the kingdom on an average twice or thrice a week. Perhaps what has lent additional piquancy to Punch's piece of quaint philosophy is the mystery hitherto surrounding its authorship. An inquirer who endeavoured a few years ago to solve the problem set on record the result of his researches, by which, according to a Scotch authority, he is said to have found the author in (1) a policeman of Glasgow, (2) a bricklayer of Edinburgh, (3) a railway official at Perth, (4) a compositor in Dundee, (5) an hotel-keeper in Inverness, and (6) a "Free Press" reporter in Aberdeen. English and Irish evidently had no chance. A letter, professing to explain the whole mystery, which lies before me from a medical correspondent, under date April 7th, 1895, runs as follows: "When in practice as a medical man at Neath, in S. Wales, it was well known to have been written by Mr. Charles Waring, a Quaker living at 'The Darran,' near Neath Abbey. Mr. Waring removed from there to the neighbourhood of Bristol about twenty-two years ago. The proprietors of Punch were so pleased, they sent him a douceur of £10 for the contribution!" Further inquiry shows that the late Mr. Waring was merely in the habit of quoting, not of claiming, the joke.

Hearing Charles Keene's emphatic opinion that the author was a Miss Frances D——, who many years ago was living in a remote village in the North of England, and who had been paid £5 for the line, I appealed to the Post Office for help to trace the lady out; and through the kindly assistance of the officials at St. Martin's-le-Grand and elsewhere, although nearly half a century had elapsed, I discovered her in another village equally remote, the Post Office having courteously obtained her permission to place me in communication with her. But the information was of a negative kind. She was, she protested, quite innocent of the credit of Punch's Monumental Cynicism, and consequently had never been the recipient of the fantastic payment of £5 per line. But since that time chance has placed in my possession the authoritative information; and so far from any outsider, anonymous or declared, paid or unpaid, being concerned in it at all, the line simply came in the ordinary way from one of the Staff—from the man who, with Landells, had conceived Punch and shaped it from the beginning, and had invented that first Almanac which had saved the paper's life—Henry Mayhew.

To trace the history of much of Punch's original humour would hardly be desirable, even were it possible. But there are many examples of it which, while essentially original to Punch, have yet sprung from circumstances independent of it, and are in themselves amusing enough to be related, or which otherwise present points of interest. To some of these I call attention, for they illustrate Punch's own aphorism that "it is easier to make new friends than new jokes."

There is a capital story in Mr. Le Fanu's "Seventy Years of Irish Life," in which the author tells of a man who was accidentally knocked down by the buffer of a locomotive near Bray Station. He was not seriously hurt, and but partially stunned; and the porters who quickly ran to the spot determined to take him to the station at once. The hero of the accident, overhearing where they were carrying him, imagined that he was being given in charge. "What do you want to take me to the station for?" he asked. "You know me; and if I've done any damage to your d——d engine, sure I'm ready to pay for it!" This story of Mr. Le Fanu's reached Keene's ears long before the author incorporated it in his book, and with the change of hardly a word it illustrated one of the best drawings the artist ever drew.

Though undoubtedly many of Punch's jokes are deliberately manufactured, or else improved from actual incidents, a vast number—like that quoted just now—are used with but slight textual editing, just as they occurred. Thus Joe Allen it was—the light-hearted artist who contributed an article to Punch's first number—who provided Mr. du Maurier years afterwards with that "social agony" in which a great lover of children, invited to a juvenile party, bursts into the room with the cry of "Here we are again"—walking in on his hands like a clown—to find that he had come to the wrong house next door, and was scandalising a sedate and stately dinner party. Henry Mayhew had a story of which a facetious police officer of his acquaintance was the hero. The latter was driving "Black Maria" along the street when he was hailed by a waggish omnibus-driver who affected to mistake the depressing character of the passing vehicle. "Any room?" he asked. "Yes," replied the officer, with a grin, "we've kept a place on purpose for you. Jump inside!" "What's the fare?" inquired the humorist, a little "non-plushed," as Jeames expressed it, at the unexpected retort. "Same as you had before—bread and water, and skilly o' Sundays!" The joke duly appeared in Punch after a long interval (Vol. XLVI.), illustrated by Charles Keene, under the title of "Frightful Levity."

Another omnibus story, printed just as it occurred, was that in which a conductor replies to an old gentleman in the south of London, whose destination was the "Elephant and Castle." "Yus—you go on to the Circus, and change into a Helephant." "Oh, mamma!" exclaims a little girl seated near the door, "do let's go too!" "Go where?" "To the circus, and see the old gentleman change into an elephant!" A similar incident, it may be observed, was illustrated by Eltze's pencil in 1861, when a passenger in the "Highbury Bus" asks the conductor to "change him into a Hangel." Jack Harris has often appeared in Punch. He was a driver beside whom Mr. Edmund Yates often rode—"a wonderfully humorous fellow, whose queer views of the world and real native wit afforded me the greatest amusement. A dozen of the best omnibus sketches were founded on scenes which had occurred with this fellow, and which I described to John Leech, whose usually grave face would light up as he listened, and who would reproduce them with inimitable fun."

The horrified swell of Leech's who is implored by an onion-hawker to "take the last rope" was in reality his friend Mr. Horsley, R.A., by whom the artist was provided with a number of humorous subjects. The unfailing advantage taken by Leech of all such contributions, which his friends assured him were "not copyright," has been universally recognised. Among the subjects suggested to him by Dean Hole was that in which his coachman, "unaccustomed to act as waiter, watched, with great agony of mind, the jelly which he bore swaying to and fro, and set it down upon the table with a gentle remonstrance of 'Who—a, who—a, who—a,' as though it were a restive horse." By a curious coincidence, as I have heard from the lips of a member of one of the great brewing firms, on the very day before the appearance of Mr. du Maurier's drawing[14] the identical incident had occurred in his own house, and it was hard to believe on the following morning that the subject of his plunging blanc-mange, similarly apostrophised, had not been imported by some sort of magic into Punch's page. A similar coincidence, far graver in its first suggestion, has been given me by Mr. Arnold-Forster. A friend of his sent in to Punch a comic sketch of the Tsar travelling by railway, while he sent a decoy train in the opposite direction—which was blown up! The paper containing the sketch was printed by the Monday, and before it was published that had really occurred which Punch had playfully invented. Until the following week, when an explanation was published, a certain section of the public criticised, with justifiable severity, what they took to be the bad taste and ill-timed fooling of the Jester.

From Mr. Harry Furniss's pen came an oft-quoted drawing (lately used as an advertisement), the idea of which reached him from an anonymous correspondent. It is that of the grimy, unshaven, unwashed, mangy-looking tramp, who sits down to write, with a broken quill, a testimonial for a firm of soap-makers: "I used your Soap two years ago; since then I've used no other." A further point of interest about this famous sketch was that Charles Keene was deeply offended by it at first—in the groundless belief that it was intended as a skit upon himself. It must at least be admitted that the head is not unlike what one might have expected to belong to a dissipated and dilapidated Charles Keene. But the nature of Mr. Furniss's work was of such a kind, and the artist himself has always overflowed with so prodigal a flood of original quaintness, that comparatively few sketches were ever sent in to him, or, being sent, were used. The origin of one of his creations—that of the Sergeant-at-Arms as a beetle—is an example of the lightness and quickness of his fancy. This representation, it has been said, was generally supposed to bear some spiteful sort of reference to the shape of Captain Gosset's legs, which in breeches and silk stockings did not perhaps appear to the best advantage; and, further, that the idea was suggested by the appearance on the floor of the House of Commons, in the course of a particularly wearisome debate, of a monster black-beetle marching slowly across under the eyes of the Representatives of the People, breaking the monotony of the proceedings, and arousing altogether disproportionate interest among the yawning members; that the "stranger" was quickly spied by the artist, who about this time had to complain that certain facilities had been refused him by the Sergeant-at-Arms, and who, in retaliation, professed thenceforward to believe that the two creatures were identical. But the insinuation was untrue. For the Sergeant was already an established insect in Punch before the appearance of the genuine black-beetle; and, moreover, so little did he resent it, that he used to stick the amusing little libels all round his mantelpiece.

The national practice of sending in alleged jokes to Punch—a practice, I imagine, of which the result is sufficient to prove how deficient in wit, if not in humour, is the English people considered as a community—is doubtless a convenient one to the many persons who live upon a fraudulent reputation of being "outside," and of course anonymous, Punch contributors. "How clever of you!" said a lady in one well-authenticated case to just such an impostor; "how very clever you must be! And what is it you write in Punch?" "Oh, all the best things are mine." The difficulty which Thomas Hood actually experienced in establishing his authorship of "The Song of the Shirt" is recorded in its proper place; while, among other things, Mr. Milliken's "Childe Chappie" was claimed, as was afterwards ascertained, by a literary ghoul whose strange taste it was to batten upon the comic writings of others, and to use his borrowed reputation to ingratiate himself with the fair and trusting sex.

Not a few of Punch's jokes have been sent in by men who were destined a little later on to become members of the Staff and diners at the Table. Mr. Furniss's first drawing, as is duly explained elsewhere, was re-drawn by Mr. du Maurier, and Mr. Burnand's initial contribution—a little sketch of 'Varsity life—was re-drawn by Leech. But quite a number of non-professional wits and humorists have acted as disinterested friends, whose benevolent assistance has gone far to colour Punch with the characteristics of their own vis comica. The chief of these no doubt is Mr. Joseph Crawhall, of Newcastle, whose devoted service to his friend Charles Keene was an important factor in the artist's Punch-life. From his other friends, Mr. Birket Foster and Mr. Andrew Tuer, Keene was in receipt of a great number of jokes—from the latter they came almost as regularly as the weekly paper. It was also from Mr. Tuer that he received, among many others, that happy thought, so happily realised, of the gentleman who one day paid an unaccustomed visit to his stables to give an order, and asking his coachman's child, "Well, my little man, do you know who I am?" received for answer, "Yes, you're the man who rides in our carriage." This story was quoted seven years later by Lord Aberdeen in a public speech, in which he attributed the adventure—though on what grounds did not appear—to "a celebrated physician," apparently Sir Andrew Clark.

After Charles Keene's death Mr. Tuer's humorous vein was turned on to others of the Staff. One of his contributions may be quoted as illustrating how unintentional are the originals of some of Punch's jokes. In 1889 appeared a picture entitled "A New Trade," in which a country maid, on being asked what her last employer was, replied, "He kept a Vicarage." The circumstance had actually taken place in Mr. Tuer's own house. When the number appeared, the legend was read out to the maid, and it was explained to her that it was her joke. She showed no enthusiasm, not even appreciation; but on seeing the others laugh, she said, with perfect gravity, yet still with hopeful perseverance, "Well, I must try and make some more!"

To Canon Ainger, also, among a crowd of willing helpers, has Mr. du Maurier often been indebted—for jokes rather scholarly than farcical, such as the parody spoken by a wretched passenger leaving the steamboat—