The History of "Punch"

by M. H. Spielmann

But hardly less important, in many a public man's opinion, than the sardonic significance of Punch's treatment of him in the cartoon, is the degree of facial resemblance achieved by the artist. It is undeniable that a likeness which is only half a likeness will often rob an otherwise admirable cartoon of half its success, just as it was oftentimes the excellence of the portraiture which more than counterbalanced the weakness of HB's sketches. Lord Brougham always flattered himself that Punch's portraits of him did not do him justice, and John Forster, in his "Life of Dickens," bears witness to it. "Lord Carlisle repeated what the good old Brougham had said to him of 'those Punch people,' expressing what was really his fixed belief, 'They never get my face, and are obliged to put up with my plaid trousers.'" But another writer, on the contrary, states that Lord Brougham "himself admits that the Punch likenesses are the best. Of course, they are a little exaggerated, but not so much so as many with whom I have chatted on the subject are apt to suppose;" while Motley, the American Minister, declared, after an official meeting with the grim old lord, "He is exactly like the pictures in Punch, only Punch flatters him. The common pictures of Palmerston and Lord John Russell are not at all like, to my mind; but Brougham is always hit exactly." Leech, indeed, enjoyed nothing more than caricaturing him, one of the most precious butts Punch ever took to himself, until he was twitted in the "Puppet-Show" at the liberties he took: "The proprietors will be compelled to widen the columns of their journal ... to show, as far as space will admit, to what lengths a nose may go in the hands of an unprincipled illustrator." But it was not only that Punch delighted in toying with Lord Brougham's cantankerousness and his peculiarities of manner and diction—as in the famous cartoon of Lord Brougham as Mrs. Caudle, of the original sketch for which a reproduction is given opposite—but he steadily carried into execution his threat of earlier days, to drag Lord Brougham "in the mire." He has been as good as his word ever since the day when Dicky Doyle drew the famous cover which is familiar to us all—that is to say, in 1849—for, as you will see if you will refer to last week's Punch, a young faun in the grand procession that appears as a relievo upon the podium or base draws along the mask of Brougham by a string. But without doubt one of the most successful cartoons Leech ever drew, and the most humorous portrait of Brougham, represented him as a clown at Astley's, going up to the splendid ring-master, the Duke of Wellington (as Mr. Widdicomb of Astley's Amphitheatre) and saying "Well, Mr. Wellington, is there anything I can do for you—for to run, for to fetch, for to carry, for to borrow, for to steal?" As Lord Brougham was suspected of undue complaisance towards the Duke at the time, the neatness of the political allusion was received with extraordinary favour by the public.

Another admirable portrait, consistently good, was that of Sir Robert Peel: so good, indeed, that when it was proposed to erect a statue to the statesman, and the best of all likenesses was sought as a guide to the sculptor—a resemblance truthful in feature and natural expression—the choice fell on a cartoon by Leech, and according to that drawing the head was modelled. Palmerston, too, was not a little impressed when in Wales a postman spoke to him as though he knew him, and replied, when questioned as to the recognition, "Seen your picture in Punch, my lord."

"THE MRS. CAUDLE OF THE HOUSE OF LORDS."

"What do you say? Thank heaven! You are going to enjoy the recess—and you'll be rid of me for some months? Never mind. Depend upon it, when you come back, you shall have it again. No: I don't raise the House, and set everybody in it by the ears; but I'm not going to give up every little privilege; though it's seldom I open my lips, goodness knows!"—"Caudle Lectures" (Improved).
Mrs. Caudle, Lord Brougham; Mr. Caudle, Lord Chancellor Lyndhurst. (From the original Sketch for the Cartoon drawn by John Leech at Thackeray's suggestion.)

But Punch, it must be admitted, has often departed from the solemn truth, both unintentionally and of malice aforethought. It was his common practice to put a straw into Lord Palmerston's mouth. Palmerston, of course, never did chew straws; but one was adopted as a symbol to show his cool and sportive nature. Many a time has that straw formed the topic of serious discussion by serious writers. Some have pretended that it was designed to typify an expression used by one of his admiring followers in the House—a tribute to his "stable character;" others have said that it became his attribute from the time that he described himself as "playing the part of judicious Bottle-Holder to the pugnacious Powers of Europe;" and Mark Lemon declared that it was simply used as a sort of trade-mark whereby he might be known again, just as Mr. Harry Furniss invented Mr. Gladstone's collars, Lord Randolph Churchill's diminutiveness, and exaggerated those complacent smiles and oily rippling chins of Sir William Harcourt, continuing them long after the time when Sir William could boast the local portliness no more. However, it is certain that the sprig of straw, which really referred only to his pure devotion to the Turf, from 1815 onwards, was first used in 1851, just after the whimsical "Judicious Bottle-Holder" declaration, and, as a matter of fact, added not a little to Palmerston's popularity, as not only representing the Turf, but a Sam Weller-like calmness, alertness, and good-humour.

Similarly both Leech and Tenniel were in the habit of giving Bright an eye-glass. "Some of us remember seeing him wear a coat with a stand-up collar in the House of Commons," said a writer in the "Daily Telegraph," "and a broad-brimmed hat; but 'why,' he used to ask with a merry face, 'did Punch always put an eye-glass in my eye? I never wore a single eye-glass!'" That was just the point; for no doubt the simple reason was that the addition of a monocle was supposed to lend a sort of rakish appearance to the solemn Quaker, and belonged to the same genus of perverse jocularity as that which suggested three hats as the humorous covering for young Disraeli's head. Mr. W. H. Smith in like manner genially protested at a complimentary dinner in 1877 against the liberties taken with his person. "As to Punch," he said, "whose remarks have been mentioned, I beg leave to say that I do not go to sea in uniform, or exhibit those very queer expressions of face depicted by Punch's artists."

There are some men whose physiognomies defy the deftest pencils. Such a one was Cobden, whose views Punch represented far more faithfully and sympathetically than his face. At the Cobden dinner of 1884 Lord Carlingford drew fresh attention to the point: "Cobden's was, for some reason which I never heard explained, a most difficult face to sketch, and Punch was in despair at the impossibility of producing a caricature that could be recognised without explanatory text. Many of the artists tried Cobden, and were floored over him. Leech and Tenniel both confessed that they could not hit the familiar expression. Somehow, they never did hit it, though photography came by-and-by to their aid." The statement is perfectly true, but the reason is not hard to find: simply that a shaven face, without well-marked features or strong lines of character, and, above all, without angularities, gives the artist extremely little to "take hold of." For that reason such faces as those of Lord Rosebery, Mr. Asquith, and Mr. John Morley (of the latter of whom Mr. Furniss used to say the true characteristic expression is only to be found in his red cravat) are as often failures as successes, in even the skilfullest hands. It is the fault of neither the artist nor the person misrepresented; according to Mr. Lucy—it is "the act of God."

Before the days of photography the work of the caricaturist was harder than it is now. Draughtsmen had to be familiar with the faces of the leading men of the day—even as Leech was, by "getting them" into their sketch-books by hook or by crook, or else they would accept the portrait already published by a brother-artist. Even to-day it sometimes occurs that a man of importance has not been photographed. In that case he must be sketched or remembered, or his portrait "faked up" on the block until it bears some resemblance to the person required. But, passing from mere portraiture to the realisation of ideas, the artist feels his liberty, and gives his genius full rein. Thus it is that Punch has always been happy and successful in his "types." It is thoroughly in the spirit of caricature that types should be established and adhered to in order to express, in symbolic form, nations and even ideas. Not only is it poetical, it is convenient; and has perforce been adopted in every country where political caricature is employed, though with standards and notions very different from our own. In Italy, for example, and in a minor degree in Germany, John Bull, as the symbol of Great Britain, is usually represented by a travesty of Punch's, with a brutal head and bandy legs, and the whole figure bent in body to suggest a bull, horns sometimes protruding beside the hat; while Russia is courteously represented as a frantic Cossack of terrific mien, brandishing a knout with violent and savage intent. We may claim that our types, as invented by Punch, are of immeasurable superiority, whether of conception or of realisation. Our John Bull—a lineal descendant probably of Gillray's favourite representation of George the Third as "Farmer Gearge"—is a fine noble fellow enough as drawn by Leech and developed by Tenniel; indeed, in the drawings of the latter may often be seen the idealised face of Mark Lemon, his jovial Editor.

This view of the type of England has attracted the attention of Ruskin. "Is it not surely," he asks, "some overruling power in the nature of things, quite other than the desire of his readers, which compels Mr. Punch, when the squire, the colonel, and the admiral are to be at once expressed, together with all that they legislate or fight for, in the symbolic figure of the nation, to present the incarnate Mr. Bull always as a farmer—never as a manufacturer or shopkeeper—and to conceive and exhibit him rather as paymaster for the faults of his neighbours than as watching for opportunity of gain out of their follies?" And again, ".... considering Punch as the expression of the popular voice, which he virtually is, and even somewhat obsequiously, is it not wonderful that he has never a word to say for the British manufacturer, and that the true citizen of his own city is represented by him only under the types either of Sir Pompey Bedell or of the more tranquil magnate and potentate, the bulwark of British constitutional principles and initiator of British private enterprise, Mr. John Smith?"