PERSONALITIES

Composer ofPeter the Great,Ere over Atlantic's broad swellThe steamer shall carry thee, proud of her freight,Let me bid thee a hearty farewell.With ophicleides, cymbals, and gongsAt first thou didst wisely begin,And bang the dull ears of the popular throngs,As though 'twere to beat music in.With national measures of France,With polka, with waltz, and with jig,The "gents" thou excitedst to caper and dance,As Orpheus did ox, ass, and pig.Then, leading them on, by degrees,To a feeling for Genius and Art,Thou mad'st them to feel that Beethoven could please,And that all was not "slow" in Mozart.

Composer ofPeter the Great,Ere over Atlantic's broad swellThe steamer shall carry thee, proud of her freight,Let me bid thee a hearty farewell.

Composer ofPeter the Great,

Ere over Atlantic's broad swell

The steamer shall carry thee, proud of her freight,

Let me bid thee a hearty farewell.

With ophicleides, cymbals, and gongsAt first thou didst wisely begin,And bang the dull ears of the popular throngs,As though 'twere to beat music in.

With ophicleides, cymbals, and gongs

At first thou didst wisely begin,

And bang the dull ears of the popular throngs,

As though 'twere to beat music in.

With national measures of France,With polka, with waltz, and with jig,The "gents" thou excitedst to caper and dance,As Orpheus did ox, ass, and pig.

With national measures of France,

With polka, with waltz, and with jig,

The "gents" thou excitedst to caper and dance,

As Orpheus did ox, ass, and pig.

Then, leading them on, by degrees,To a feeling for Genius and Art,Thou mad'st them to feel that Beethoven could please,And that all was not "slow" in Mozart.

Then, leading them on, by degrees,

To a feeling for Genius and Art,

Thou mad'st them to feel that Beethoven could please,

And that all was not "slow" in Mozart.

John Hullah

The end of the poor "Mons" was pitiful. He was, when he chose to lay aside his mountebankery, an excellent and inspiring conductor. But he was hopelessly extravagant and improvident, and always in money difficulties. In the fire which destroyed Covent Garden Theatre in 1856 he lost all his musical library and other possessions, and a disastrous venture at the Royal Surrey Gardens completed his ruin. There is no "ridicule" in the tribute paid to the unlucky Jullien in the autumn of 1857, whenPunchdescribes him as "a most worthy fellow, at whose eccentricities I have made good fun in his days of glory, but whom I have always recognized as a true artist and a true friend to art." But things went from bad to worse with the eccentric artist, and Jullien died bankrupt and insane in a lunatic asylum in Paris in 1860, at the age of forty-eight.

Another musical pioneer on far more orthodox lines whomPunchrecognized was John Hullah, whose singing classes for the people at Exeter Hall in 1842 prompted the comment: "If music for the people be a fine moral pabulum, is the drama for the people to be considered of no value whatever?" More sympathetic is the reference, under the heading of "Io Bacche," to the performance of Bach's Mass in B minor at one of Hullah's monthly concerts in St. Martin's Hall in March, 1851. Hullah, who devoted his life to popular instruction in vocal music, well deserved the commendation: no fewer than 25,000 pupils passed through his singing classes between 1840 and 1860. The standard of taste in vocal music was not high in the early 'forties:Punchsatirizes the prevalent sentimentality in songs by suggesting in 1842 as a title "Brush back that briny tear." On the instrumental side we have to note the entrance of the banjo in the same year. Musical eccentricities and monstrosities are duly noted. There seems to have been a special effervescence of them in 1856, when a performer who hammered out tunes on his chin, and Picco, the blind Sardinian penny whistler, enjoyed a fleeting popularity. In the same year American negro dialect ballads were much in vogue, a tyranny from which we are not yet relieved. The concertina became fashionable much earlier, in 1844, owing to the remarkable performances of theItalianvirtuosoGiulio Regondi, but is seldom heard nowadays outside of music halls. Turgenieff said that the zither always reminded him of a Jew trying to sing through his nose. Without going so far as that, one may say that it would be hard to carry out Sir Edward Elgar's favourite expression-marknobilmenteon the concertina. With regard to fashionable musicPunchcomplains in 1849 that execution was everything, composition little or nothing. He only anticipated the complaint of a later satirist who wrote:—

Spare, execution, spare thy victim's bones—Composed by Mozart, decomposed by Jones.

Spare, execution, spare thy victim's bones—

Composed by Mozart, decomposed by Jones.

A crowded concert room.MANNERS AND CVSTOMS OF YE ENGLYSHE IN 1849A FEW FRIENDS TO TEA AND A LYTTLE MVSYCK

MANNERS AND CVSTOMS OF YE ENGLYSHE IN 1849A FEW FRIENDS TO TEA AND A LYTTLE MVSYCK

Male singer with female pianist.TASTE IN 1854—VILLIKINS AND HIS DINAH IN THE DRAWING-ROOMYoung Lady(who ought to know better): "Now, William, you are not low enough yet. Begin again at 'he took the cold pizen.'"

TASTE IN 1854—VILLIKINS AND HIS DINAH IN THE DRAWING-ROOM

Young Lady(who ought to know better): "Now, William, you are not low enough yet. Begin again at 'he took the cold pizen.'"

"Punch's" Taste in Music

Specimens of fashionable musical criticism have already been given under the head of opera.Punchhad the root of thematter in him but was lacking in technique, and confesses himself unable to make out what a critic meant by alluding to a new tenor's "admirableportamento." He was on much more sure ground when he attacked Balfe for mangling Beethoven at the Grand National Concerts at Her Majesty's Theatre in 1850, when trivial rubbish was sandwiched between movements of theEroicaSymphony. A second visit, however, enabled him to withdraw his censure, as theEroicaand C minor Symphonies were performed without being cut in two.Punchhad "no use for" Wagner, as we have seen, but he fully appreciated his romantic forerunner Weber; his salutation of Spohr and Hummel as classics was perhaps a trifle premature. Thenames of the various musical celebrities who figure in the pages ofPunchin this period afford a striking illustration of the transitoriness of the fame of the executant. Who but experts in musical biography know of Sivori and Ole Bull now? Even the laurels of the great Thalberg, the most "gentlemanly" of all the great pianists, author of the most fashionable variations, have withered sadly in the last half century.Punchdoes not seem to have been specially impressed by Liszt, the greatest of them all, and misspells his name "Listz" on the occasion of a perfunctory reference to him in 1843. The favourite composers of waltzes were Strauss, the founder of the dynasty of the Viennese waltz-kings, and Labitzky. To the present generation the name Strauss has totally different associations; and we live so fast that an enlightened writer has recently declared that the once redoubtable Richard is also dead. It would be an overstatement to say that conductors were of no account in the 'forties and 'fifties, in view of the notoriety of Jullien and the prestige of Costa, who was both an autocrat and a martinet, but they did not loom nearly so large in the public eye as the great singers. The balance of repute has long since been decisively redressed and the popular conductor of to-day has no reason to complain of lack of homage, whether in the form of applause or official recognition.

Turner as Painter and Poet

The low opinion whichPunchentertained of contemporary architects and sculptors and of their ability to design or execute a public building, a monument, or a memorial, has been noted in our brief survey of London. He made an exception in favour of Paxton, but does not seem to have recognized the genius of Alfred Stevens, and here at any rate was not in advance of public or expert opinion of the time. Stevens's design for the Wellington monument was only placed sixth in order of merit by the adjudicators of the competition in 1857, and though ultimately the execution of the monument was entrusted to him, it was not placed in the position intended for it till twenty-seven years after his death. As a judge of painting and paintersPunchshowed greater independence, intelligence and enlightenment. His earlier volumes abound in references to forgotten names, but he was at least no indiscriminate worshipperof established reputation. In a notice of the Suffolk Street Gallery in the autumn of 1841 he prints a most trenchant criticism of Maclise's "Sleeping Beauty" as showing "a disdain for both law and reason and avoiding an approximation to the vulgarity of flesh and blood in his representation of humanity." Landseer falls under his lash for his "courtier pictures" at the R.A. in 1844, and in the same article we find the first of many satirical references to Turner's poetic titles.Punch, we regret to say, wholly failed to recognize that a bad poet might be a very great painter. In his "Scamper through the Academy" we read:—

No. 77 is calledWhalers, by J. M. W. Turner, R.A., and embodies one of those singular effects which are only met with in lobster salads, and in this artist's pictures. Whether he calls his picturesWhalers, orVenice, orMorning, orNoon, orNight, it is all the same; for it is quite as easy to fancy it one thing as another. We give here two subjects by this celebrated artist.

Signed sketch by J. M. W. Turner, R.A.VENICE BY GASLIGHT GOING TO THE BALLMS. "Fallacies of Hope"(An Unpublished Poem).—Turner.

VENICE BY GASLIGHT GOING TO THE BALL

MS. "Fallacies of Hope"(An Unpublished Poem).—Turner.

Signed sketch by J. M. W. Turner, R.A.VENICE BY DAYLIGHT,—RETURNING FROM THE BALLMS. "Fallacies of Hope"(An Unpublished Poem).—Turner.

VENICE BY DAYLIGHT,—RETURNING FROM THE BALL

MS. "Fallacies of Hope"(An Unpublished Poem).—Turner.

And again:—

We had almost forgotten Mr. J. M. W. Turner, R.A., and his celebrated MS. poem, theFallacies of Hope, to which he constantly refers us as "in former years," but on this occasion he has obliged us by simply mentioning the title of the poem, without troubling us with an extract. We will, however, supply a motto to hisMorning—returning from the Ball, which really seems to need a little explanation; and as he is too modest to quote theFallacies of Hope, we will quote it for him:"Oh! what a scene!—Can this be Venice? No.And yet methinks it is—because I seeAmid the lumps of yellow, red and blue,Something which looks like a Venetian spire.That dash of orange in the background thereBespeaks 'tis Morning! And that little boat(Almost the colour of tomato sauce)Proclaims them now returning from the ball!This in my picture, I would fain convey,I hope I do. Alas!whatFALLACY!"

"Oh! what a scene!—Can this be Venice? No.And yet methinks it is—because I seeAmid the lumps of yellow, red and blue,Something which looks like a Venetian spire.That dash of orange in the background thereBespeaks 'tis Morning! And that little boat(Almost the colour of tomato sauce)Proclaims them now returning from the ball!This in my picture, I would fain convey,I hope I do. Alas!whatFALLACY!"

"Oh! what a scene!—Can this be Venice? No.

And yet methinks it is—because I see

Amid the lumps of yellow, red and blue,

Something which looks like a Venetian spire.

That dash of orange in the background there

Bespeaks 'tis Morning! And that little boat

(Almost the colour of tomato sauce)

Proclaims them now returning from the ball!

This in my picture, I would fain convey,

I hope I do. Alas!whatFALLACY!"

But there is some good "horse sense" mixed up with frivolity in an article on the canons of criticism a few pages later:—

GENERAL MAXIMSI. The power of criticism is a gift, and requires no previous education.II. The critic is greater than the artist.III. The artist cannot know his own meaning. The critic's office is to inform him of it.IV. Painting is a mystery. The language of pictorial criticism, like its subject, should be mysterious and unintelligible to the vulgar. It is a mistake to classify it as ordinary English, the rules of which it does not recognise.V. Approbation should be sparingly given: it should be bestowed in preference on what the general eye condemns. The critical dignity must never be lowered by any explanation why a work of art is good or bad.CHARACTERISTICS OF PARTICULAR STYLESRules for Art Critics1.To criticise a Picture by Turner.—Begin by protesting against his extravagance; then go on with a "notwithstanding." Combine such phrases as "bathed in sunlight," "flooded with summer glories," "mellow distance," with a reference to his earlier pictures; and wind up with a rapturous rhapsody on the philosophy of art.2.To criticise a Picture by Stanfield.—Begin by unqualified praise; then commence detracting, first on the score of "sharp, hard outline"; then of "leathery texture"; then of "scenic effect of the figures"; and conclude by a wish he had never been a scene painter.3.To criticise a Picture by Etty.—Begin by delirious satisfaction with his "delicious carnations" and "mellow flesh-tones." Remarkon the skilful arrangement of colour and admirable composition; and finish with a regret that Etty should content himself with merely painting from "the nude Academy model," without troubling himself with that for which you had just before praised him.—N.B. Never mind the contradiction.4.To criticise a Picture by E. Landseer.—Here you are bound to unqualified commendation. If the subject be Prince Albert's Hat or the Queen's Macaw, some ingenious compliment to royal patrons is expected.Punchwill be happy to supply newspaper critics with similar directions for "doing" all the principal painters in similar style.He subjoins some masterly specimens of artistic criticism:—The "facile princeps" of daily critics of art (he of the Post) has the following, in a criticism of Herbert'sGregory and Choristers:—"There is a want ofmodulative melodyin its colours and mellowness inits hand(whose?), pushed to anoutrésimplicity intheplainness and ungrammatical development of its general effect. The handling is firm and simple, though in the drapery occasionally too square and inflexible."

GENERAL MAXIMS

I. The power of criticism is a gift, and requires no previous education.

II. The critic is greater than the artist.

III. The artist cannot know his own meaning. The critic's office is to inform him of it.

IV. Painting is a mystery. The language of pictorial criticism, like its subject, should be mysterious and unintelligible to the vulgar. It is a mistake to classify it as ordinary English, the rules of which it does not recognise.

V. Approbation should be sparingly given: it should be bestowed in preference on what the general eye condemns. The critical dignity must never be lowered by any explanation why a work of art is good or bad.

CHARACTERISTICS OF PARTICULAR STYLES

Rules for Art Critics

1.To criticise a Picture by Turner.—Begin by protesting against his extravagance; then go on with a "notwithstanding." Combine such phrases as "bathed in sunlight," "flooded with summer glories," "mellow distance," with a reference to his earlier pictures; and wind up with a rapturous rhapsody on the philosophy of art.

2.To criticise a Picture by Stanfield.—Begin by unqualified praise; then commence detracting, first on the score of "sharp, hard outline"; then of "leathery texture"; then of "scenic effect of the figures"; and conclude by a wish he had never been a scene painter.

3.To criticise a Picture by Etty.—Begin by delirious satisfaction with his "delicious carnations" and "mellow flesh-tones." Remarkon the skilful arrangement of colour and admirable composition; and finish with a regret that Etty should content himself with merely painting from "the nude Academy model," without troubling himself with that for which you had just before praised him.—N.B. Never mind the contradiction.

4.To criticise a Picture by E. Landseer.—Here you are bound to unqualified commendation. If the subject be Prince Albert's Hat or the Queen's Macaw, some ingenious compliment to royal patrons is expected.

Punchwill be happy to supply newspaper critics with similar directions for "doing" all the principal painters in similar style.

He subjoins some masterly specimens of artistic criticism:—

The "facile princeps" of daily critics of art (he of the Post) has the following, in a criticism of Herbert'sGregory and Choristers:—

"There is a want ofmodulative melodyin its colours and mellowness inits hand(whose?), pushed to anoutrésimplicity intheplainness and ungrammatical development of its general effect. The handling is firm and simple, though in the drapery occasionally too square and inflexible."

Scene in an art galleryMANNERS AND CVSTOMS OF YEENGLYSHE IN 1849YEEXHYBITYON. AT YEROYAL ACADEMYE.

MANNERS AND CVSTOMS OF YEENGLYSHE IN 1849YEEXHYBITYON. AT YEROYAL ACADEMYE.

The neglect and rough handling of the treasures of the National Gallery, where pictures presented to the nation were buried in a vault, is a frequent source of indignant comment throughout this period—note for example "The Pictures' Petition" in 1853. But in another sense contemporary pictures were roughly handled byPunch. Thus in 1849 he puts in an effective plea for realism as against Wardour Street "Old Clo'," and appeals to artists to "paint human beings instead of clothes-horses." There is indeed a strangely familiar ring in "Mr. Pips's" notes on the R.A. Exhibition of the year:—

"The Exhibition at large I judge to be a very excellent middling one, many Pictures good in their kind, but that Kind in very few cases high. The Silks and Satins mostly painted to admiration, and the Figures copied carefully from the Model; but this do appear too plainly; and the action generally too much like a Scene in a Play."

The same complaint recurs in the following year, whenPunchis moved, as the result of visiting all the exhibitions then open to ask certain questions:—

Is painting a living art in England at this moment?Is there a nineteenth century?Are there men and women round about us, doing, acting, suffering?Is the subject matter of Art, clothes? Or is it men and women, their actions, passions and sufferings?If Art is vital, should it not somehow find food among living events, interests, and incidents? Is our life, at this day, so unideal, so devoid of all sensuous and outward picturesqueness and beauty, that for subjects to paint we must needs go back to the Guelphs and Ghibellines, or to Charles the Second, or William the Third, or George the Second?

Is painting a living art in England at this moment?

Is there a nineteenth century?

Are there men and women round about us, doing, acting, suffering?

Is the subject matter of Art, clothes? Or is it men and women, their actions, passions and sufferings?

If Art is vital, should it not somehow find food among living events, interests, and incidents? Is our life, at this day, so unideal, so devoid of all sensuous and outward picturesqueness and beauty, that for subjects to paint we must needs go back to the Guelphs and Ghibellines, or to Charles the Second, or William the Third, or George the Second?

Standing nun.CONVENT THOUGHTS

CONVENT THOUGHTS

The P.R.B.

But much more interesting than these generalities—sound and sensible though they are—is the first reference to "certainyoung friends of mine, calling themselves—the dear silly boys—Pre-Raphaelites" in the same volume. It must certainly be admitted that in his earlier criticisms of the P.R.B.'sMr. Punchmanaged to dissemble his affection pretty effectively. The initial compliment in the notice of 1851 is largely discounted by what follows:—

Our dear and promising young friends, the Pre-Raphaelites, deserve especial commendation for the courage with which they have dared to tell some most disagreeable truths on their canvases this year. Mr. Ruskin was quite right in taking up the cudgels againstThe Timeson this matter. The pictures of the P.R.B.aretrue, and that's the worst of them. Nothing can be more wonderful than the truth of Collins's representation of theAlisma Plantago,exceptthe unattractiveness of the demure lady, whose botanical pursuits hehas recorded under the name of CONVENT THOUGHTS.... By the size of the lady's head he no doubt meant to imply her vast capacity of brains—while by the utter absence of form and limb under the robe, he subtly conveys that she has given up all thoughts of making a figure in the world.Mr. Millais's "Marianain the moated Grange" is obviously meant to insinuate a delicate excuse for the gentleman who wouldn't come—and to show the world the full import of Tennyson's description:—then said she, "I am very dreary."Anything drearier than the lady, or brighter than her blue velvet robe, it is impossible to conceive.

Mr. Millais's "Marianain the moated Grange" is obviously meant to insinuate a delicate excuse for the gentleman who wouldn't come—and to show the world the full import of Tennyson's description:—

then said she, "I am very dreary."

Anything drearier than the lady, or brighter than her blue velvet robe, it is impossible to conceive.

Lady standing before a window.MARIANA IN THE MOATED GRANGE

MARIANA IN THE MOATED GRANGE

But Punchmakestheamendemost handsomely in 1852:—

Commercialism in ArtBefore two pictures of Mr. Millais I have spent the happiest hour that I have ever spent in the Royal Academy Exhibition. Inthose two pictures [OpheliaandThe Huguenot] I find more loving observation of Nature, more mastery in the reproduction of her forms and colours, more insight into the sentiment of our greatest poet, a deeper feeling of human emotion, a happier choice of a point of interest, and a more truthful rendering of its appropriate expression, than in all the rest of those eight hundred squares of canvas put together.

Commercialism in Art

Before two pictures of Mr. Millais I have spent the happiest hour that I have ever spent in the Royal Academy Exhibition. Inthose two pictures [OpheliaandThe Huguenot] I find more loving observation of Nature, more mastery in the reproduction of her forms and colours, more insight into the sentiment of our greatest poet, a deeper feeling of human emotion, a happier choice of a point of interest, and a more truthful rendering of its appropriate expression, than in all the rest of those eight hundred squares of canvas put together.

In 1852Punchsingles out, from a wilderness of niggling landscapes and highly-coloured and meretricious upholstery, Watts's "marvellous chalk drawing of Lord John Russell." For the rest,

Art is more of a trade now, than it was when Raphael's studio had no other name thanbottega—in English, shop; and moreover, it is an emasculate and man-milliner sort of a trade, instead of one demanding strong brains, and a brave and believing heart. It is a trade mainly conversant with miserable things and petty aims—with vanity, and ostentation and vulgarity, and sensuality and frivolity—no longer dealing with themes of prayer and praise, with the glories of beatitude, or the horror of damnation, with the perpetuation of family dignities and devotions, the recording of great events, the dignifying of public and national, or the beautifying of private and individual life. It is a trade in ornament, and its Academy is a shop, and its Exhibition a display of rival wares, in which the best hope and the sole aim of the many is to catch the eye of a customer; and he who "colours most highly, is sure to please."

As a comprehensive indictment of the commercialism and triviality of Victorian art this leaves little to be desired. For an illustration ofPunch'saltered opinion of the P.R.B.'s it may suffice to quote his palinode in 1853:—

Will you consider me ridiculous or blind when I assure you, on my honour as a puppet and a public performer, that these young gentlemen have written for me this year four of the sweetest and deepest and most thoughtful books I have read since I laid down Mr. Millais's historical romance ofThe Huguenot, last year? I am sensible of the omniscience of the daily, and some of the weekly papers, and I am aware that this is an opinion which should not be breathed within ear-shot of places where they take inThe Times, and theMorning Post, and theExaminer. But I am a sort ofchartered libertine, and nobody will believe anything I say is serious, so I can enjoy the luxury of saying what I feel, having no character to keep up. Then I tell you frankly—not forgetting Edwin Landseer's two grand cantos of his Highland Poem,Night and Morning by the Lochside, or Stanfield's noble paean-picture of the Battered Hull that carries the body of Nelson, like a Viking with his ship for bier—not forgetting these and other picture-books well worth reading—I tell you that Hunt'sClaudio and Isabellais to methebook of the collection, though it records in colours what Shakespeare has written in words; and that little, if at all after it, comes Millais'sOrder of Release, and then theStrayed SheepandProscribed Royalistof the same authors. I do not mean to put either after the other, so I bracket them."

In accepting the principles of the P.R.B.'sPunchshows all the zeal of the convert, as may be gathered from the following discourse published shortly afterwards:—

Art must adapt itself to the conditions of the time and the life it has to reflect.See what follows.If pictures are to be hung in rooms instead of churches, and public halls and palaces, they must be small.Work on a small scale, being meant for the satisfaction of a close eye, must be highly finished.These conditions did not affect the old painters and must affect the moderns, and these conditions my young friends the Pre-Raphaelites appear to be conscious of and to submit to, for which I cannot blame them, but praise them rather, for wisely recognising the necessity of adapting Art to surrounding circumstances.What have they recognised besides?That the truest representation and grandest creation may and must be combined by the great artist; that as man works in a setting of earth and air, all the beauties and fitness of that setting must be rendered—the more truthfully the better—and that the most accurate rendering of these need not detract from the crowning work—the creation of the central interest which sums itself in human expression.The practice of painting hitherto has seemed to challenge the possibility of combining these two things—human expression and accurate representation of inanimate or lower nature. These young men take up the gauntlet, and say, "We are prepared to do this—at least to try and do it." Their first-fruits are before the world, and already it has felt that the undertaking is new and startling and cheerfully courageous: nay, more: that to a certain point—andfurther than might be expected from such beardless champions—it has already succeeded.So God speed these young Luthers of the worn-out Art-faith; they have burnt the Bull of the Painter-Popes of their time. They have still enough work before them, such as their spiritual father before them went through—devils of their own creating to hurl their palettes at, and many mighty magnates to wrestle with, and confute, and put to shame—by trust in their gospel truth that Accurate Representation is the first requisite of Art.

Art must adapt itself to the conditions of the time and the life it has to reflect.

See what follows.

If pictures are to be hung in rooms instead of churches, and public halls and palaces, they must be small.

Work on a small scale, being meant for the satisfaction of a close eye, must be highly finished.

These conditions did not affect the old painters and must affect the moderns, and these conditions my young friends the Pre-Raphaelites appear to be conscious of and to submit to, for which I cannot blame them, but praise them rather, for wisely recognising the necessity of adapting Art to surrounding circumstances.

What have they recognised besides?

That the truest representation and grandest creation may and must be combined by the great artist; that as man works in a setting of earth and air, all the beauties and fitness of that setting must be rendered—the more truthfully the better—and that the most accurate rendering of these need not detract from the crowning work—the creation of the central interest which sums itself in human expression.

The practice of painting hitherto has seemed to challenge the possibility of combining these two things—human expression and accurate representation of inanimate or lower nature. These young men take up the gauntlet, and say, "We are prepared to do this—at least to try and do it." Their first-fruits are before the world, and already it has felt that the undertaking is new and startling and cheerfully courageous: nay, more: that to a certain point—andfurther than might be expected from such beardless champions—it has already succeeded.

So God speed these young Luthers of the worn-out Art-faith; they have burnt the Bull of the Painter-Popes of their time. They have still enough work before them, such as their spiritual father before them went through—devils of their own creating to hurl their palettes at, and many mighty magnates to wrestle with, and confute, and put to shame—by trust in their gospel truth that Accurate Representation is the first requisite of Art.

Enthusiasm of a Convert

It may be added that when French medals were conferred on English artists in 1855,Punchcomplained that the newer school, i.e. the P.R.B.'s, had been overlooked in favour of Court painters such as Landseer. As a set-off to these examples ofPunch'sartistic and aestheticflairand enlightenment, it must be owned that in 1854 he had expressed high praise for Frith'sRamsgate Sands(which was bought by the Queen) on account of its realism. But it may be accounted to him for righteousness that he supported Lord Stanhope's National Portrait Gallery Bill in 1856, and entered a vigorous protest against the vile "Germanism" of the title "Art Treasures Exhibition" instead of "Treasures of Art" for the show at Manchester in 1857. The more modern and equally vile Germanism "Concert-Direction Smith" or whoever the musical agent may be, has apparently been washed out by the War of 1914.

With all deductions and limitationsPunch'srecord as a critic of the fine arts acquits him handsomely of the charge of Philistinism.

[29]See the protest against "skee-yi," "blee-yew," "kee-yind," "dis-gyee-ise," for "sky," "blue," "kind," "disguise."

[30]Madame Lafarge (1816-52) achieved a sinister immortality by the famous poisoning case which bears her name, "one of the most obscure in the annals of French justice" (Larousse). After being imprisoned for twelve years she was released and died in 1852.

[31]She had already been twenty-five years on the stage and was a link with Beethoven, having sung the soprano part in both the Ninth Symphony and the Mass in D at the historic production of these great works in Vienna in 1824. Lablache's generous homage to Beethoven's genius on the occasion of his funeral is too well known to need more than a passing word of grateful recognition.

[32]Jullien was, we assume, a naturalized British subject, though he appears in Larousse.

Towards the end of the period reviewed in this volume,Punchenumerates his specialbêtes noiresas "Humbug, Cant, Sleek Hypocrisy and Brazen Wrong." But as has already been abundantly proved, the list would have to be considerably extended to include all the personages, notable and notorious, who came under his lash. In earlier years he is much more specific. Thus in 1850 his amiable catalogue of the gentlemen and public bodies who have kindly consented to furnish him with game in the ensuing year contains Colonel Sibthorp, the bearded reactionary who sat for Lincoln, Barry, the architect of the new Houses of Parliament, all quack-medicine vendors, tyrants and woman-floggers (the Tsar Nicholas and Haynau are specially aimed at), Madame Tussaud, Lord Brougham, R.A.'s, the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul's, Smithfield and all City nuisances, and all sinecurists and pensionists. In 1852 Panizzi (for his long deferred catalogue of the British Museum of which he was Chief Librarian), Cardinal Wiseman, and Lord Maidstone are added, together with Railway Directors, Homœopathists and Protectionists.

As caption.PEEL AS THE KNAVE OF SPADES

PEEL AS THE KNAVE OF SPADES

Among the various devices adopted to ventilate his personal animosity may be notedPunch'slist of "desirable emigrants," and the ingenious suggestion that "Penal Statues" should be erected to commemorate the misdeeds of great offenders, obstructionists, bigots and anti-reformers. Of some ofPunch'sbutts it may be said that they were rescued from oblivion by his satire and caricature—Sibthorp for example, though he was by no means the merely reactionary buffoon who appears inPunch. He was eccentric in dress and figure, opposed all the great measures of Reform, and was the incarnation of ultra-Tory tradition. But he was frequentlywitty, and as truculently courageous asPunchhimself. Sir Peter Laurie, Alderman and Lord Mayor of London, stood toPunchfor all that was pompous, officious, meddlesome and even odious in City administration. We rub our eyes on reading in the D.N.B. that Sir Peter throughout his public life "devoted himself largely to schemes of social advancement, was a good magistrate and a disciple of Joseph Hume." But the explanation of this and other divergent records is simple enough.Punchwas often too angry or enthusiastic to be just or discriminating. He wrote on the spur of the moment, with the result that he often had to revise his verdicts. We have seen this change in regard to Prince Albert, the Duke of Wellington, and Palmerston, and alreadyPunchhad reluctantly begun to admit that Disraeli was a force in politics and not a mere mountebank. The bitter attacks on Bulwer Lytton as a pinch-beck writer and padded dandy, which abound in the 'forties, ended in reconciliation and amity. We have seen the process at work again in the altered estimates of Jullien. Bunn was severely let alone, but only when it was found that the animal, as in the French saying, was so evil as to defend himself when he was attacked. Sometimes, however,Punchwas implacable and impenitent. He never appears to have had a really good word to say for Daniel O'Connell, but regarded Repeal throughout as a fraud, and the "Liberator" as a self-seeking and grasping agitator. When Dan promised in 1845 to achieve Repeal in six months or lay his head on the block, and did neither,Punchonly jeered at his "brazen boasting," and depicted him later on as the real "Potato Blight" of Ireland. Impenitence, too, marked his attitude towards both "Henry of Exeter" (Dr. Phillpotts), Pusey, and Wiseman; and his distrust of Louis Napoleon, after a brief period of reticence imposed during the Crimean War, revived in full force in the later 'fifties. We have also seen the converse of the process described above in the treatment of Cobden and Bright, who were rudely hauled down from their pinnacles whenPunchthe peace-loving Free Trader developed in the Crimean War into the bellicose patriot. The change was made in the contrary direction with Peel, but the grace of recognition wasgrievously impaired by its delay. Posthumous honours are a sorry reparation for continual abuse of the living, andPunch'streatment of Peel is one of the worst blots on his scutcheon. InPunch'searly volumes no abuse was too bad for the Conservative statesman. Even the Bible was ransacked for invidious parallels, which only stopped short of Judas. He was a "political eel," a "quack," a "genius or Janus," and there is a curious foreshadowing of the recriminations of our own time, in the way in which Peel, in virtue of his inveterate policy of temporizing, is saddled with the watchword "wait awhile."

CaricatureTHE ROYAL RED RIDING HOOD

THE ROYAL RED RIDING HOOD

"Punch's" Injustice to Peel

If "Jenkins" wasPunch's"chief butler"—in the sense of the supreme flunkey—Lord Brougham was his chief buttthroughout these years. And certainly no public character in the nineteenth century ever played better into the hands of the satirist. His nose in the most literal sense lent a handle to the caricaturist. His tweed trousers figure as regularly inPunch'sportraits as the straw in Palmerston's mouth—which, by the way, is generally traced to a trick that "Pam" acquired in visiting his stables. Palmerston's nickname was "Cupid" from his gallantry: the mythological parallel for Brougham would have been Proteus. One of the earliest references to him inPunchappears in the composite Preface to Vol. vi., in which each of the contributors ascribes toPunchhis own characteristics, Brougham praising him for "forswearing like a chameleon every shade of opinion, when for the moment he has ceased to wear it." Thereafter the fun becomes fast and furious. Brougham is charged with writing the flamboyant advertisements of George Robins, a veritable Barnum among auctioneers. His tweed trousers are explained as a cause of his always wanting to get back to the woolsack. He is credited, in virtue of his versatile activities, with the attempt to discover perpetual motion. Brougham's vanity, craving for office at all costs, meddlesomeness, and subservience to the Duke of Wellington are held up to contempt, and in "Rational Readings for Grown-up People" (an early anticipation of the Missing Word Competition) we read:—

If people may, without rebuke,Call Wellington the "Iron——,"Why then we safely may presumeThe "Brazen Peer" to term Lord——.

If people may, without rebuke,

Call Wellington the "Iron——,"

Why then we safely may presume

The "Brazen Peer" to term Lord——.

Caricature with Mr. Punch and politicians.QUEEN CANUTE REPROVING HER COURTIERS

QUEEN CANUTE REPROVING HER COURTIERS

The snobbishness of Brougham's arguments on behalf of royal princes in his Debtors' Bill again infuriates the democraticPunch, who in 1849 was even more disgusted by Brougham's fulsome championship of Radetzky and the Austrians when they defeated the Piedmontese. ButPunch'shostility reaches its height in the verses (accompanying a cartoon which represents Brougham standing on his head) describing the amazing farrago of inconsistencies which composed the mindof one who was at once a charlatan and encyclopædist, a reformer and a courtier. In the same yearPunchsuggests a Bill should be promoted for "the better behaviour of the erotic and learned lord,"

Who'd rather mount the mountebank's stage than be laid on the shelf,Who does with ease the difficult task of turning his back on himself.

Who'd rather mount the mountebank's stage than be laid on the shelf,

Who does with ease the difficult task of turning his back on himself.

Brougham's perversely obstructive attitude towards the Exhibition of 1851 excitedPunch'swrath, when he himself had become converted to the scheme, but already the tone of the paper had changed; and the turning point was reached on the occasion of Brougham's visit to America in 1850, whenPunchprinted the following unofficial letter of introduction to the President of the United States:—

To General Taylor, President of the United States,Favoured by Henry Lord Brougham, Member of the French Institute."Dear Taylor,"I have much pleasure in making yourself and my friendBrougham—theBroughamwhose fame isnotEuropean but world-wide—personally acquainted. With all his little drolleries, he is an excellent fellow; and with all his oddities, he has worked like a Hercules stable-boy at our Augean Courts of Law. He has cheapened costs; he has well-nigh destroyed the race of sharp attorneys. Indeed, if you would seek Brougham's monument, look around every attorney's office; and you willnotsee Brougham's picture."

To General Taylor, President of the United States,

Favoured by Henry Lord Brougham, Member of the French Institute.

"Dear Taylor,

"I have much pleasure in making yourself and my friendBrougham—theBroughamwhose fame isnotEuropean but world-wide—personally acquainted. With all his little drolleries, he is an excellent fellow; and with all his oddities, he has worked like a Hercules stable-boy at our Augean Courts of Law. He has cheapened costs; he has well-nigh destroyed the race of sharp attorneys. Indeed, if you would seek Brougham's monument, look around every attorney's office; and you willnotsee Brougham's picture."

Punchhad already welcomed Brougham's espousal of the anti-Sabbatarian cause, but the full avowal of reconciliation is to be found in the following graceful verses printed in 1851:—

A PALINODEFromPunchto Henry BroughamA Palinode to Brougham"During the last five or six weeks, he had with the utmost difficulty, and against the opinion of his medical advisers, attended the service of their Lordships' House. During the last ten days thedifficulty had increased and become more severe. In the hope of assisting in this great measure, in a cause to which his life had been devoted, he had struggled to the last, until he found he could struggle no more."—Lord Brougham's last speech on Law Reform in the House of Lords.

A PALINODEFromPunchto Henry Brougham

A Palinode to Brougham

"During the last five or six weeks, he had with the utmost difficulty, and against the opinion of his medical advisers, attended the service of their Lordships' House. During the last ten days thedifficulty had increased and become more severe. In the hope of assisting in this great measure, in a cause to which his life had been devoted, he had struggled to the last, until he found he could struggle no more."—Lord Brougham's last speech on Law Reform in the House of Lords.

And is the busy brain o'erwrought at last?Has the sharp sword fretted the sheath so far?Then, Henry Brougham, in spite of all that's past,Our ten long years of all but weekly war,LetPunchhold out to you a friendly hand,And speak what haply he had left unspokenHad the sharp tongue lost naught of its command,That nervous frame still kept its spring unbroken.Forgot the changes of thy later years,No more he knows the Ishmael once he knew,Drinking delights of battle 'mongst the Peers—Your hand 'gainst all men, all men's hands 'gainst you.He knows the Orator whose fearless tongueLashed into infamy and endless scornThe wretches who their blackening scandal flungUpon a Queen—of women most forlorn.He knows the lover of his kind, who stoodChief of the banded few who dared to braveThe accursed traffickers in negro blood,And struck his heaviest fetter from the slave;The Statesman who, in a less happy hourThan this, maintained man's right to read and know,And gave the keys of knowledge and of powerWith equal hand alike to high and low;The Lawyer who, unwarped by private aims,Denounced the Law's abuse, chicane, delay:The Chancellor who settled century's claims,And swept an age's dense arrears away;The man whose name men read even as they run,On every landmark the world's course along,That speaks to us of a great battle wonOver untruth, or prejudice or wrong.Remembering this, full sad I am to hearThat voice which loudest in the combat rungNow weak and low and sorrowful of cheer,To see that arm of battle all unstrung.And so, even as a warrior after fightThinks of a noble foe, now wounded sore,I think of thee, and of thine ancient might,And hold a hand out, armed for strife no more.

And is the busy brain o'erwrought at last?Has the sharp sword fretted the sheath so far?Then, Henry Brougham, in spite of all that's past,Our ten long years of all but weekly war,

And is the busy brain o'erwrought at last?

Has the sharp sword fretted the sheath so far?

Then, Henry Brougham, in spite of all that's past,

Our ten long years of all but weekly war,

LetPunchhold out to you a friendly hand,And speak what haply he had left unspokenHad the sharp tongue lost naught of its command,That nervous frame still kept its spring unbroken.

LetPunchhold out to you a friendly hand,

And speak what haply he had left unspoken

Had the sharp tongue lost naught of its command,

That nervous frame still kept its spring unbroken.

Forgot the changes of thy later years,No more he knows the Ishmael once he knew,Drinking delights of battle 'mongst the Peers—Your hand 'gainst all men, all men's hands 'gainst you.

Forgot the changes of thy later years,

No more he knows the Ishmael once he knew,

Drinking delights of battle 'mongst the Peers—

Your hand 'gainst all men, all men's hands 'gainst you.

He knows the Orator whose fearless tongueLashed into infamy and endless scornThe wretches who their blackening scandal flungUpon a Queen—of women most forlorn.

He knows the Orator whose fearless tongue

Lashed into infamy and endless scorn

The wretches who their blackening scandal flung

Upon a Queen—of women most forlorn.

He knows the lover of his kind, who stoodChief of the banded few who dared to braveThe accursed traffickers in negro blood,And struck his heaviest fetter from the slave;

He knows the lover of his kind, who stood

Chief of the banded few who dared to brave

The accursed traffickers in negro blood,

And struck his heaviest fetter from the slave;

The Statesman who, in a less happy hourThan this, maintained man's right to read and know,And gave the keys of knowledge and of powerWith equal hand alike to high and low;

The Statesman who, in a less happy hour

Than this, maintained man's right to read and know,

And gave the keys of knowledge and of power

With equal hand alike to high and low;

The Lawyer who, unwarped by private aims,Denounced the Law's abuse, chicane, delay:The Chancellor who settled century's claims,And swept an age's dense arrears away;

The Lawyer who, unwarped by private aims,

Denounced the Law's abuse, chicane, delay:

The Chancellor who settled century's claims,

And swept an age's dense arrears away;

The man whose name men read even as they run,On every landmark the world's course along,That speaks to us of a great battle wonOver untruth, or prejudice or wrong.

The man whose name men read even as they run,

On every landmark the world's course along,

That speaks to us of a great battle won

Over untruth, or prejudice or wrong.

Remembering this, full sad I am to hearThat voice which loudest in the combat rungNow weak and low and sorrowful of cheer,To see that arm of battle all unstrung.

Remembering this, full sad I am to hear

That voice which loudest in the combat rung

Now weak and low and sorrowful of cheer,

To see that arm of battle all unstrung.

And so, even as a warrior after fightThinks of a noble foe, now wounded sore,I think of thee, and of thine ancient might,And hold a hand out, armed for strife no more.

And so, even as a warrior after fight

Thinks of a noble foe, now wounded sore,

I think of thee, and of thine ancient might,

And hold a hand out, armed for strife no more.

This is a fine summary of Brougham's services as the friend of humanity, the champion of free speech and popular education, and the great legal reformer, erring, if at all, in the over-generous estimate of his disinterestedness as an advocate. Brougham recovered from his breakdown and lived for seventeen years longer—years crowded with multifarious activities, legal, scientific, literary. He was, in many ways, a unique figure in public life, though, when the lives of the Lord Chancellors are brought up to date in the next generation, he will not be able to avoid rivalry on the score of early advancement, versatility, vituperation, and vulgarity.

Sir James Graham is not mentioned nearly so often as Brougham, but in respect of concentrated hostility of criticism he occupies the first place amongstPunch'spet aversions. No cartoon in this period held up any politician to greater contempt and ridicule than the repulsive picture of the Home Secretary as "Peel's Dirty Little Boy," who was "always in trouble." The predominating cause ofPunch'sresentment was the historic episode of the opening of suspect correspondence, notably that of Mazzini; but Sir James Graham could do nothing right inPunch'sview:nihil tetigit quod non fœdavit. Peter Borthwick, the advocate of the slave-owners, M.P. for Evesham from 1835 to 1847, and editor of theMorning Postfrom 1850 till his death in 1852, was no favourite ofPunch. He was, however, as the date shows, not editorially responsible for "Jenkins"; and by introducing the Borthwick clause into the Poor Law Amendment Bill in 1847, under which married couples over the age of sixty were not, as theretofore, separated when they entered the poor-house, he so far expiated his pro-slaveryheresies thatPunchgranted him "six months immunity from ridicule for this good act."Punch'santipathy to Urquhart is curious, for they were united in their Russophobia. ButPunchwas often intolerant of competitors, and he was never an extravagant Turcophil as Urquhart was.

MIiss Nightgale with wounded soldier.MR. PUNCH'S DESIGN FOR A STATUE TO MISS NIGHTINGALE

MR. PUNCH'S DESIGN FOR A STATUE TO MISS NIGHTINGALE

"Punch" Designs a Statue

If a paper, like a man, is to be fairly judged by its heroes and favourites,Punchemerges from the test with considerable credit. Most of them have been mentioned incidentally elsewhere,and the list[33]might easily be added to. Let it suffice, however, to give the names of Jenner, Stephenson, Rowland Hill, Paxton, Faraday, and Livingstone; Mazzini and Kossuth; Jenny Lind, Florence Nightingale, and William Russell, of whose lecturesPunchwrote an enthusiastic and well-merited encomium in the summer of 1857.

[33]It is perhaps worthy of note that with the exception of Paxton none of those mentioned belonged to the decorated or decorative classes. Stephenson refused a knighthood in 1850; it was not bestowed on William Russell till more than forty years later. Rowland Hill was made a K.C.B. in 1860.

A complete Index will be found in the Fourth Volume.

Printed byCassell & Company, Limited, La Belle Sauvage,London, E.C.4F.100.521

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