| “‘The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon! Where got’s thou that goose? Look!’” |
Here we have the fault of hardness that I speak of, and something of feeble drawing, but the humour is perfect.
After the publication of the “Comic Grammar,” written by Gilbert à Beckett, one of the Punch staff, a somewhat similar experiment upon the public and on a larger scale was tried by the same author in the issue of a “Comic History of England.” This venture was warmly opposed at its inception by Jerrold, whose wrath at the idea of burlesquing historical personages was expressed with vehemence. Gilbert à Beckett persisted, however, and the history appeared, with over three hundred illustrations on wood and steel by John Leech. The book is, as might be expected, very light reading, containing many puns and much play upon words. Leech’s work seems to me to be slight, hurried, and even careless, compared with that of his later time; but the spirit of rollicking fun with which grave historical incidents are treated, and the humorous satire that the principal personages receive at the hands of the illustrator, make the “Comic History of England” amusing enough. The following extract, with the drawing that illustrates it, will show the truth of my estimate of both.
“A story is told of a certain Fair Rosamond, and, though there is no doubt of its being a story from beginning to end, it is impossible to pass it over in English history. Henry, it was alleged, was enamoured of a certain Miss Clifford—if she can be called a certain Miss Clifford, when she was really a very doubtful character. She was the daughter of a baron on the banks of the Wye, when, without a why or a wherefore, the King took her away, and transplanted the Flower of Hereford, as she well deserved to be called, to the Bower of Woodstock. In this bower he constructed a labyrinth something like the Maze at Rosherville, and as there was no man stationed on an elevation in the centre to direct the sovereign which way to go, nor exclaim, ‘Right, if you please!’ ‘Straight on!’ ‘You’re right now, sir!’ ‘Left!’ ‘Right again!’ etc., etc., his Majesty had adopted the plan of dragging one of Rosamond’s reels of silk along with him when he left the spot, so that it formed a guide for him on his way back again. This tale of silk is indeed a most precious piece of entanglement, but it was perhaps necessary for the winding up of the story. While we cannot receive it as part of the thread of history, we accept it as a means of accounting for Eleanor’s having got a clue to the retreat of Rosamond.
“The Queen, hearing of the silk, resolved naturally enough to unravel it. She accordingly started for Woodstock one afternoon, and, suspecting something wrong, took a large bowl of poison in one hand and a stout dagger in the other. Having found Fair Rosamond, she held the poniard to the heart and the bowl to the lips of that unfortunate young person, who, it is said, preferred the black draught to the steel medicine.”
Later on in the history we have another good example of Leech’s humour. King Edward, having subdued the Welsh, “endeavoured to propitiate his newly acquired subjects by becoming a resident in the conquered country. His wife Eleanor gave birth to a son in the castle of Caernarvon, and he availed himself of the circumstance to introduce the infant as a native production, giving him the title of Prince of Wales, which has ever since been held by the eldest son of the British sovereign.”
| Queen Eleanor and Fair Rosamond. |
| King Edward introducing his Son as Prince of Wales to his Newly-acquired Subjects. |
A well-known historical scene is parodied as follows: Henry IV. being ill, “the Prince of Wales was sitting up with him in the temporary capacity of nurse,” says Mr. à Becket. “The son, however, seemed rather to be waiting for his father’s death than hoping for the prolongation of his life; and the King having gone off in a fit, the Prince, instead of calling for assistance or giving any aid himself, heartlessly took that opportunity to see how he should look in the crown, which always hung on a peg in the royal bedchamber. Young Henry was figuring away before a cheval glass with the regal bauble on his head, and was exclaiming, ‘Just the thing, upon my honour!’ when the elder Henry, happening to recover, sat up in bed and saw the conduct of his offspring.
| Unseemly Conduct of Henry, Prince of Wales. |