John Leech, His Life and Work Volume I Part 4

Leech treats--how admirably!--another greedy boy, or, rather, two greedy boys.

JACKY: "Hallo, Tommy! what 'ave you got there?"

TOMMY: "Hoyster!"

JACKY: "Oh, give us a bit!"

A Calais oyster, no doubt--large enough for both; but Tommy will not share his happiness. Intensity of expression pervades him from his open mouth to his fingers' ends. Jacky's face and figure are no less expressive of eagerness to join in the banquet.

[Ill.u.s.tration:

"SO YOU HAVE TAKEN ALL YOUR STUFF, AND DON'T FEEL ANY BETTER, EH?

WELL, THEN, WE MUST ALTER THE TREATMENT. YOU MUST GET YOUR HEAD SHAVED; AND IF YOU WILL CALL HERE TO-MORROW MORNING ABOUT ELEVEN, MY PUPIL WILL PUT A SETON IN THE BACK OF YOUR NECK."]

If ever man suffered from _embarras de richesse_, I am that individual in making a selection from the early drawings of Leech; where all, or nearly all, are so perfect, choice becomes difficult indeed. I cannot resist, however, the one that follows this remark. For perfection of character and richness of humour, it seems to me unsurpa.s.sable. The doctor's att.i.tude as he contemplates his victim--who seems to have brought with her the huge empty physic-bottles to prove that she has taken all her "stuff"--to say nothing of his startling individuality, is Nature itself; and that immortal pupil with the big knife, smiling in antic.i.p.ation of the operation "to-morrow about eleven"! One can read on the face of the patient a dull realization of the doctor's announcement that only a seton in the back of her neck--whatever that may mean to her--will be of any service now; and to render the operation successful, she must have her head shaved.

[Ill.u.s.tration:

"AWFUL APPARITION TO A GENTLEMAN WHILST SHAVING IN THE EDGWARE ROAD, SEPTEMBER 29, 1846."]

The statue of the Duke of Wellington, which so long disgraced Hyde Park Corner, has disappeared, to the satisfaction of the world in general, though there were, I believe, a few dissentients who saw, or said they saw, beauty in one of the most hideous objects ever perpetrated by the hand of man; yet the "ayes had it," and the monster has departed.

The effigy was manufactured in a studio near Paddington Green, and it was on its journey through the Edgware Road to the arch now on Const.i.tution Hill that the gentleman in Leech's cartoon was startled by a very remarkable object, to say the least of it.

Speaking from my own experience, I have always found a difficulty in giving the effect of wind in a picture; the action of it on drapery, trees, skies, etc., is--from the almost momentary nature of the gusts--far from an easy task. No one who ever handled a brush or a pencil has been so successful as Leech in conveying the action of wind on every object, and never did he succeed more completely than in an "Awful Scene on the Chain Pier at Brighton," which is, no doubt, somewhat farcical; but how intensely funny! Master Charley has gone, and his ma's parasol has accompanied him. The horror-struck nursemaid is almost blown off her feet; and Charley's brother, also terror-stricken, will be down on his back in a moment; whilst his little sister maintains her equilibrium with great difficulty. The flying hat, and the couple staggering against the blast in the distance, all help to realize for us the exact effect of a wind-storm.

NURSEMAID: "Lawk! there goes Charley, and he's took his ma's parasol!

What _will_ missus say?"

[Ill.u.s.tration:

WAITER: "Gent in No. 4 likes a holder and a thinner wine, does he? I wonder how he'll like this bin!"]

As there is no condition in life that has not proved food for Leech's pencil, that of the waiter was fruitful in many never-to-be-forgotten scenes. I introduce one which is very humorous, and scarcely an exaggeration. It is called "How to Suit the Taste." A guest seems to have found his port too new and strong.

[Ill.u.s.tration:

"HOLLO! HI! HERE, SOMEBODY! I'VE TURNED ON THE HOT WATER, AND I CAN'T TURN IT OFF AGAIN!"]

One of the peculiarities of Leech's art is that "time cannot wither it, nor custom stale its infinite variety." I defy the most serious Scotchman to look at the sketch below without laughing at it. As the gentleman who is on the highroad to being parboiled is in one of the sketches of 1846, many of my readers may see him for the first time. I envy that man; but though I am very familiar with the wonderful little drawing, a renewed acquaintance is always a delight to me. We know the bather can jump out of the scalding water when he likes, but there he is, with clouds of steam rising about him, screaming in deadly terror for "somebody" to come to his rescue.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "SYMPTOMS OF A MASQUERADE."

BETTER-HALF (_loq._): "Is this what you call sitting up with a sick friend, Mr. Wilkins?"]

Here follows a drawing of a different character, opening up very appreciable possibilities, and not very pleasant consequences for the hero of the piece. Mr. Wilkins left the domestic hearth to sit up with a sick friend. "Yes, my dear," I can hear him say to his spouse, "I may be late; for if I find I can comfort the poor fellow by my conversation, I cannot find it in my heart to hurry away from him." Wicked Mr. Wilkins!

What was there wrong in going to a masquerade? and if it was criminal to do so, why leave the evidence of your guilt where Mrs. W. could find it?

Was that a _lady's_ mask? In the eyes of the outraged wife I dare say it was, though it may only have been used to cover the homely features of the deceiver, whose pale face and empty soda-water bottle plainly prove that the evening's entertainment will not bear the morning's reflections.

[Ill.u.s.tration:

JUVENILE: "I say, Charley, that's a jeuced fine gurl talking to young Fipps! I should like to catch her under the mistletoe."]

The first drawings of "The Rising Generation," in which are portrayed the premature affections and the amusing affectations of the manners and sayings of their elders that, according to Leech, distinguished the _jeunesse dore_ of England, appeared in 1846, and have been so admirably described by d.i.c.kens elsewhere as to leave me only the task of placing some of the drawings before the reader, carefully avoiding those the great writer has noticed so felicitously. The young gentleman in the drawing introduced here would like to catch the pretty creature talking to the fascinating young man under the mistletoe, no doubt! We know his wicked intentions; but how would he carry them out? He is not tall enough to reach the lady's elbow; but love in such pa.s.sionate natures laughs at difficulties, and he will find a way; and he calls a man old enough to be his father _young_ Fipps! Delightful little dog! and no less delightful is his friend Charley, who smiles encouragement, and would do likewise. These works of Leech possess what it is not too much to call an historical interest, as they chronicle truly the dresses of the time. In the object of our young friend's admiration, I fancy I see the approach of crinoline, while her ringlets afford a striking contrast to the fringes of the present day. An old lady would now create a sensation indeed if she appeared in a turban like that which bedecks the sitting figure.

[Ill.u.s.tration:

JUVENILE: "Uncle!"

UNCLE: "Now, then, what is it? This is the fourth time you've woke me up, sir."

JUVENILE: "Oh! just put a few coals on the fire and pa.s.s the wine, that's a good old chap!"]

Again the irrepressible juvenile, under different conditions. Behold him practising upon a very testy old gentleman, who has been so rude, in the estimation of his young nephew, as to go to sleep after dinner.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE RISING GENERATION."

JUVENILE: "Ah, it's all very well! Love may do for boys and gals; but we, as men of the world, know 'ow 'ollow it is."]

In his notices of the freaks of the rising generation Leech did not confine himself to juveniles of the higher and middle ranks, but occasionally he shows us the young sn.o.b, of whom he makes--with modifications--the same mannish and amusingly vain creature as his confreres, the little swells. As an ill.u.s.tration, I present my reader with a scene in a coffee-house, in which two friends are refreshing themselves, and exchanging philosophical reflections on the vanities of human life. These lads look like shop-boys, but--in their own estimation--with souls far above their positions in life. The spokesman has found the truth of the poet's description of the course of true love in the conduct of some barmaid who has jilted him, hence his bitterness.

In the year 1847 Leech produced much of his best work, and in justification of this dictum I advise the study of a drawing full of character, humour, and beauty. Thousands of heads of households could vouch for the truth of the situation depicted there, and where is the mistress whose mind has not misgiven her when a request from her pretty servant has been urged that she might "go to chapel this evening"?

"Chapel, indeed!" one can hear her mutter to herself; "I've not the least doubt the baker's man is waiting for her round the corner!" I am loath to find fault with such a work as this, but I _do_ think that perfect maid deserved a more presentable lover than the pudding-faced, knock-kneed soldier who is personating the "bit of ribbin." The artist appears to me to charge his story-telling maid with very bad taste indeed. Would the drawing have lost, or gained, if Leech had given us a handsome young guardsman instead of this ugly fellow? He would, at any rate, have made the little fib a little more pardonable. The other figures deserve careful attention--notably, the youth absorbed in the study of natural history.

SERVANT-MAID: "If you please, mem, could I go out for half an hour to buy a bit of ribbin, mem?"

If there be amongst my readers any who are unfamiliar with Cruikshank's ill.u.s.trations of "Oliver Twist," I advise them to turn to them, where they will find a drawing of f.a.gin in the condemned cell at Newgate, one of the most awful renderings of agonized despair ever depicted by the hand of an artist. This great work is travestied by Leech in a manner so admirable as to make the travesty take rank with the original. Instead of f.a.gin, see King Louis Philippe smarting under the failure of his schemes and the impending fall of his dynasty. By the Spanish marriages the veteran trickster destroyed the power which he sought to consolidate.

Domestic troubles and misadventures were represented by Leech in many examples, with a sympathetic humour that never wearies. A party may be a.s.sembled for a dinner which is strangely delayed; conversation flags into silence. The host and hostess become uneasy, when a b.u.t.ton-boy appears with the ominous "Oh, if you please, 'm, cook's very sorry, 'm, could she speak to you for a moment?" Something has happened; but we are left in uncertainty as to what it was.

Or the dinner is served, when an alarming announcement is made:

SERVANT (_rushing in_): "Oh, goodness gracious, master! There's the kitchen chimley afire, and two parish ingins a-knocking at the street door."

One of the happiest of the servant-gal-isms appears this year--the precursor of many excellent tunes on the same string--delightfully ill.u.s.trative of the vanity which we all share, more or less, with our maids. In the picture that follows, the sight of the old lady's new bonnet and a convenient looking-gla.s.s have provided an opportunity that the pretty servant could not resist. She must see how she looks in it--and behold the result!

[Ill.u.s.tration:

DOMESTIC (_soliloquizing_): "Well, I'm sure, missis had better give this new bonnet to me, instead of sticking such a young-looking thing upon her old shoulders." (The impudent minx has immediate warning.)]

I must refer my readers to _Punch's_ almanac for 1848, copiously ill.u.s.trated by Leech, for many admirable examples of his many-sided powers. Alas! my s.p.a.ce forbids the reproduction of any of them. Amongst the rest there is one of a gentleman suffering from influenza, which, by the way, seems to have been as prevalent in 1848 as it has been recently, though not so fatal in its effects. Our sufferer is visited by a condoling friend: he sits with his feet in hot water, and, with his hand on the bell-pull, he says, "This is really very kind of you to call. Can I offer you anything? A basin of gruel, or a gla.s.s of cough mixture? Don't say no!"

Another of a rich old lady, who stands before a pyramid of oyster-barrels, all sent to her at Christmas by her poor relations.

Another--but I must pause, and again refer my reader to the almanac.

I find yet one more of the "Rising Generation" series quite irresistible. The two little bucks are perfect, and the idea of such a report as that one of them was engaged to the magnificent woman--whose face we long to see--is so ludicrous as almost to reach the sublime of absurdity. Look at the eagerness with which the precocious youth impresses upon his friend the necessity of contradicting the rumour, and the well-bred and considerate way in which the friend receives a communication which does not surprise him. He does not smile at it.

There is nothing astonishing in a man's being in love with such a fine woman, and he will certainly contradict anyone who repeats the report, as his friend desires. If the creatures had been six feet high instead of not so many more inches, they could not have conducted themselves more naturally.

[Ill.u.s.tration: