It may fairly be said that not three per cent.—probably not one per cent.—of the jokes sent in to Punch "from outside" are worthy either of publication as they stand, or even of being considered raw material for manipulation by the editor or his artists. In this low estimate, of course, are not included the work of the few regular contributors who are recognised, though "unattached," as well as of the others who make a practice of sending every good new joke they hear to such a friend as they may happen to have on the Staff. These two classes are not numerous; but they are, and have for years formed, a little body of bright-witted, laughter-loving persons, to whom Punch and Punch readers are under an equal debt of gratitude.
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.