But Punch found his Waterloo, as it was considered at the time, at the hands of Alfred Bunn. Bunn was the theatrical and operatic manager and man of letters—or, rather, as the letters were so insignificant, the "man of notes." As early as 1816 he had produced a volume of verse. Such verse!—sentimental, washy, and "woolly" to a degree. Three years later he put his name to 'Tancred: a Tale,' by the author of 'Conrad: a Tragedy,' lately performed at the Theatre Royal, Birmingham—of which he was manager for a spell before he came to London—and from time to time he gave forth other works, such as "The Stage, both Before and Behind the Curtain," three volumes of rather shrewd "Observations taken on the Spot" (1840), and "Old England and New England" (1853). He delivered lectures, too, at the St. James's Theatre, three times a week, on the History of the Stage, and the Genius and Career of Shakespeare—lectures which he also delivered in America. His verses, though vapid balderdash for the most part, were well adapted to music, and his ballads "When other Lips and other Hearts," "The Light of other Days," "In Happy Moments Day by Day" (sung in Fitzball's "Maritana"), enjoyed enormous popularity.

Still, the whole attitude, the whole bearing of the man—his showy, almost comic, appearance and his grandiloquence of expression—as well as the tremendous character of the wording of his theatrical bills, afforded points of attack from the moment that he caught the public eye, that no caricaturist or humorist could resist. As early as 1832 Jerrold was lampooning him in his "Punch in London." In the following year Thackeray held him up to ridicule in his "National Standard," that was fated to collapse a few months later, and honoured him with immortality in "Flore and Zephyr;"[23] and soon after, Gilbert à Beckett satirised him in "Figaro in London." In 1833 "Alfred the Little; or, Management! A Play as rejected at Drury Lane, by a Star-gazer," was another satire of distinct severity.

It is not surprising, therefore, that as soon as Punch was started the wits combined to continue the game which they had already, separately enjoyed, and which the public presumably found amusing. The other papers joined in Punch's cry, the "Great Gun" showing pre-eminent zeal in its stalking of "Signor Bombastes Bunnerini." From the moment of Punch's birth onwards, Bunn was one of his most ludicrous and fairest butts. When he wrote verse, he was "The Poet Bunn;" when he was annoyed at that, or anything else, he was "Hot Cross Bunn." His deposition from the management of Drury Lane and his appointment to the Vauxhall Gardens were coincident with Punch's appearance, and the publication of his "Vauxhall Papers," illustrated by Alfred Crowquill, again drew attention to himself. No sooner was the fierce controversy begun as to the propriety of including a statue of Cromwell among the Sovereigns of England in the new Palace of Westminster, a matter decided fifty years later, than Punch gravely mooted the question—"Shall Poet Bunn have a Statue?" Then when his reign at Drury Lane was resumed, and opera was his grand enterprise, Bunn became Punch's "Parvus Apollo," while Scribe's libretto to Donizetti's music was to be "undone into English" by the Poet himself; and the persecuted manager was throughout the subject of some of the happiest and most comic efforts of Leech's pencil.

At last, after supporting a six years' persistent cannonade, Bunn determined to strike a blow for liberty. His plan was to issue a reply—a swift and sudden attack, as personal and offensive as he could make it—in the form of Punch's own self, enough like it in appearance to amuse the public, if not actually to deceive it. He secured the help of Mr. George Augustus Sala, then a young artist whose pencil was enlisted in the service of "The Man in the Moon," and who had as yet little idea of the journalistic eminence to which he was to rise. He had previously submitted sketches to Mark Lemon for use in Punch, which had been summarily and, as he tells me, "unctuously declined," and in his share of the work he doubtless tasted some of the sweets of revenge, and richly earned the epithet which Lemon thereupon applied to him of "graceless young whelp."

If the front page of this production be compared with Doyle's first Punch cover on p. [47], the extent of the imitation will be appreciated. The size was the same, and the Punch lettering practically identical; but otherwise the resemblance was of a general character. If the design is examined, it will be seen that the groups are chiefly composed of Punch's victims and his Staff. At the top the "Man in the Moon" presides; below, the "Great Gun" is firing away at the dejected hunchback in the pillory. Toby is hanged on his master's own gallows; and the puppets are strewn about. Thackeray leans for support against Punch's broken big drum; Tom Taylor is beside him—Horace ("Ponny") Mayhew lies helpless in his box; while next to him Gilbert à Beckett is prone upon his face, leaving his barrister's wig upon the "block-head." Jerrold, as a wasp, is gazing ruefully at the bâton which has dropped from Punch's feeble hands; and Mark Lemon, dressed as a pot-boy, is straining himself in the foreground to reach his pewter-pot. Around float many of Punch's butts, political and social. Wellington on the left and Brougham on the right play cup-and-ball with him. Louis Philippe has him on a toasting-fork, and Lord John Russell hangs him on a gallows-tree. Palmerston, Prince de Joinville, Jullien, Sibthorpe, Moses the tailor, Buckingham, and many more besides, are to be recognised. It was inscribed "No. 1,—(to be continued if necessary)"—a contingency, however, that did not arise.

It is usually considered that Bunn engaged a clever writer to write his text for him; but it is quite likely that he wrote the whole work himself, simply submitting it to the "editing" of some more experienced journalist, probably Albert Smith. Much of the manner is his own, and, as Mr. Joseph Knight agrees,[24] it "has many marks of Bunn's style, and is in part incontestably his."

His "Word" is directed at Punch's "three Puppets—Wronghead (Mr. Douglas Jerrold), Sleekhead (Mr. Gilbert à Beckett), and Thickhead (Mr. Mark Lemon)—formidable names, Punch! and, as being three to one, formidable odds!" He refers to his friends having warned him not to rebel against Punch's attacks, as he is

a public character!! Pray, Punch, are not these, your puppets, public characters? Have they not acted in public, laboured for the public, catered for the public? Has not Douglas Jerrold been hissed off the stage by the public? Have not à Beckett's writings! been acted, and damned, in public? and as to Mark Lemon, there can be no doubt of his being a public character, for he some time since kept a public-house!!! All ceremony therefore is at an end between us.... There may be other misdemeanours of which they have from time to time thought me guilty; but the grand one of all is, that I have taken the liberty of attempting to write poetry, and have produced on the stage my own works in preference to theirs.... Did you ever see them act, Punch? Did you ever see Douglas Jerrold in his own piece, entitled "The Painter of Ghent"? If not, I can only say you are a devilish lucky fellow! Did you ever see him and Mark Lemon act at Miss Kelly's theatre? and if so, did you ever see such an awful exhibition?... and if, as they say, they did "hold the mirror up to Nature," I say it was only to cast reflections upon her!! Did you read, Punch, the criticisms written by themselves upon themselves in the next day's papers? If you did not, you have a treat to come.

THE WRAPPER OF "A WORD WITH PUNCH."
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(Designed by George Augustus Sala.)