This paper pa.s.sed, as a wrapper, from Lemon to Mr. Birket Foster, and from the hands of that gentleman to an autograph-hunter undiscoverable.

a Beckett's wit was exceedingly nimble, and as a consequence he was a facile punster. One of his happiest jokes of the kind has been set on record. When the election of Louis Napoleon appeared likely, the policy of _Punch_ in respect to it was anxiously discussed at the Table. One of the Staff--Thackeray most likely--declared that it would be wisest to be indefinite. "Nonsense," said a Beckett, "if you're not definite, you'd better be dumb in it!"

While occupied in writing a series of papers called "Mr. Punch's Guide Books to the Crystal Palace," ill.u.s.trated by Tenniel, Gilbert a Beckett died at Boulogne from typhus fever, his youngest son Walter predeceasing him by two days from the same complaint--the grief of any knowledge of it, however, being happily spared the father. He was buried in Highgate Cemetery, and the inscription engraved upon the tombstone was reproduced in an abbreviated and modified form from the touching obituary notice in which his brother-workers, through Jerrold's pen, testified to his merits and to their affection: "Endowed with a genial, manly spirit; gifted with subtlest powers of wit and humour, they were ever exercised to the healthiest and most innocent purpose. As a Magistrate, his wise, calm, humane administration of the law proved that the fulfilment of the gravest duties is not incompatible with the sportiveness of literary genius. 'His place knows him not,' but his memory is tenderly cherished."

The connection of Angus Bethune Reach with _Punch_ was not of very long duration. With Albert Smith he had been joint editor of "The Man in the Moon," and with Shirley Brooks was one of the special correspondents of the "Morning Chronicle" in the South of France, as well as its Parliamentary reporter. He had followed up Albert Smith's series of "Natural Histories," of "The Gent," "The Flirt," and other specimens of English Society, with "Bores" and "Humbugs," which ran through several editions. He had joined "The Puppet Show" in 1848, while still quite a youth; he had written "The Comic Bradshaw" (which found an echo in _Punch_ years later) and one or two successful novels, and had with Brooks laid siege to a position on _Punch's_ Staff. This, it might almost be said, he carried, as Brooks did, by a.s.sault; and having given up the editorship of "The Man in the Moon" with its twenty-eighth number (1849), he was duly summoned to the _Punch_ Table.

His life was at that time hardly a pleasant one, though his industry (for the craze of work was upon him) was as great as his versatility, and his field of labour as wide as his knowledge. When he came to the _Punch_ Table, he found his haven; but he was heckled, of course, by Douglas Jerrold, on the score of his name and its quaint p.r.o.nunciation.

Concerning this name (p.r.o.nounced Re-ach in the German manner, _anglice_ Re-ack), Angus once asked his father, a Writer to the Signet, in the hearing of my informant, the late H. G. Hine, what on earth it meant.

"As in Highland Scotch," was the reply, "'Dhu' means 'black' and 'Roy'

means 'red,' so Reach means half-and-half, or 'brown.'" He therefore insisted on its proper p.r.o.nunciation; with the natural result. Jerrold delighted in teasing him about it, and at a Dinner at the "Ship" at Brighton, where the _Punch_ Staff held one of their meetings, Jerrold[36] leant forward at dessert and asked--"Mr. Re-ack, may I pa.s.s you a pe-ack?" And on another occasion, when Reach protested against Jerrold's persistent ill-treatment of his name, the wit replied, "Oh, I see. Re-ack when we speak to you, but _reach_ when we read you!"

At last, in 1854, Reach's incorrigible industry bore its Dead-Sea fruit; broken down with over-work, his mind utterly gave way. Thereupon his friends of the Fielding Club, reinforced by Albert Smith of "The Man in the Moon," joined together to play for his benefit Smith's pantomime burlesque, "Harlequin Guy Fawkes; or, a Match for a King," at the Olympic Theatre, April, 1855. Arthur Smith, Albert's brother, played pantaloon; Bidwell was harlequin; Joseph Robins, clown; Albert Smith, Catesby; Edmund Yates, the lover; and Miss Rosina Wright ("always Rosy, always Wright," wrote Smith) was columbine. The rush, said E. L.

Blanchard, was unprecedented, and stalls were cheap at ten pounds. The great broadsword fight between Smith (Catesby) and Robins (Guy Fawkes), in the rich traditions of the Surrey-Crummles School, was the hit of the evening, and has been immortalised by Sir John Tenniel in his drawing for _Punch_ (p. 149, Volume XXVIII.), ent.i.tled "The Amateur Olympians."

But Reach did not benefit long from the efforts of his friends, and died before he was thirty.

FOOTNOTES:

[29] See p. 2.

[30] Douglas Jerrold writes to Hodder under date September 9th:--"I have been worked to death for _Punch_, having it all on my shoulders, Mark, a Beckett, and Thackeray being away. Nevertheless, last week it went up 1,500." Jerrold, it may be added, would at that time undertake some of the editorial as well as the literary work.

[31] This was "The Little Frenchman's Second Lesson," an important poem occupying a whole page.

[32] Under "Editor" were entered all, except very special, contributions coming from outside.

[33] See p. 141.

[34] An example of Henry Mayhew's quaint presentation of his own experiences is to be found in the paragraph he contributed under the t.i.tle of "TAVERN CHARGES AT DOVER":--"Waiter! How much is my gla.s.s of brandy-and-water?" "The bill, sir." "What! 10s. 6d.?" "Yes, sir, brandy's 2s.; never charge less." "Well?" "Sugar 6d.; never charge less." "Go on." "Waxlight and apartment, 5s." "Why, I've only been here five minutes." "That's not our fault, sir; we never charge less." "Go on." "Servants, 2s." "What?" "Me, boots and chambermaid; never charge less." "Well, what next?" "The use of plate, gla.s.s, and linen, 1s."

"What do you mean?" "Teaspoon, tumbler, and table-cloth; never charge less; but--we makes you a present of the biling water." "Very well, there's your 10s. 6d., and I shall write to the 'Times.'" "Yes, sir--pen, ink, and paper, 1s.; never charge less."

[35] A "Pet.i.tion," supposed to come from the inmates (written by Percival Leigh), appeared in _Punch_ (p. 101, Volume IX.), in which the pet.i.tioners begged that some of the kitchen refuse and pigs'-wash, hitherto used to _over_fatten swine, might be reserved for them. This pet.i.tion had an admirable effect.

[36] Hodder incorrectly gives the _mot_ to Thackeray.

CHAPTER XIII.

_PUNCH'S_ WRITERS: 1841.

H. P. Grattan--W. H. Wills--R. B. Postans--Bread-Tax and Tooth-Tax--G. Hodder--G. H. B. Rodwell--Douglas Jerrold--His Caustic Wit--The "Q Papers"--A Statesman _pour rire_--His Sympathy with the Poor and Oppressed--Wins for _Punch_ his Political Influence--Ill-health--"_Punch's_ Letters"--The "Jenkins" and "Pecksniff" Papers--"Mrs. Caudle"--Jerrold's Love of Children, common to the Staff--He Silences his Fellow-wits--And is Routed by a Barmaid--He sends his Love to the Staff--And they prove theirs.

The remaining contributors to the first number were Joseph Allen, H. P.

Grattan, and W. H. Wills. The contribution of the first-named has already been indicated. H. P. "Grattan"--whose real name was Plunkett, and whose occasional pseudonym was the familiar "Fusbos"--worked well for the first numbers and for the Almanac. He was a witty versifier and clever dramatist, but he soon tired of the paper and directed his energies into other channels. W. H. Wills--"Harry Wills" he was always called--was a more important and a more faithful contributor. His first verses were "A Quarter-day Cogitation" (p. 5), and for some time he was the regular dramatic critic of _Punch_, in which a considerable amount of s.p.a.ce was accorded to the review of amus.e.m.e.nts of all kinds, and not a little to Charles Kean and his histrionic deficiencies. Besides "_Punch's_ Theatre," he wrote paragraphs, verses, and criticisms innumerable, including the series of "_Punch's_ Natural History of Courtship," ill.u.s.trated by the pencils of Sir John Gilbert, Newman, and Gavarni; "_Punch's_ Comic Mythology," "_Punch's_ Information for the People," as well as "_Punch's_ Valentines," and lively skits like "The Burst Boiler and the Broken Heart," and the verses in praise of p.a.w.nbrokers, "The Uncles of England." After helping the Almanac for 1846, his _Punch_ connection was interrupted for a period through his being called to Edinburgh to edit "Chambers's Journal;" but on his return to London two years later he resumed his position in a modified form. He became secretary to Charles d.i.c.kens, who was then editing the "Daily News," as well as his a.s.sistant editor on "Household Words," and subsequently on "All the Year Round," so that little time was left him for humorous composition--though he certainly found leisure to issue "The Family Joe Miller." When he was in Edinburgh he married Robert Chambers' sister--a lady possessed of true Scottish wit, some of whose pithy remarks are still remembered, such as "The ladies who agitate for women's rights are generally men's lefts."

Of the other two writers who aided in the founding of _Punch_--Postans and George Hodder--there is little to say. The first-named, indeed, has already been sufficiently dealt with, but it may be added that his last contribution was his verses--"A Contribution by Cobden"--on the subject of the removal by Sir Robert Peel of the tax on artificial teeth.

Postans saw his chance, for the Repeal of the Corn Laws was already being agitated, and the tooth-tax troubled his mouth less than the tax on bread. His final verse ran--

"Reverse your plan," the G.o.ddess [Commerce] said, And smiling stood in all her beauty; "Give me untaxed my daily bread, And tax my teeth with double duty."

Besides his amba.s.sadorial a.s.sistance, and in spite of his presence at the _Punch_ Club, Hodder was not of much account on the paper, either in its formation or its literary production. He was, however, related to _Punch_ by marriage, being the husband of Henning's beautiful daughter, the niece of Kenny Meadows' wife. His last appearances in its pages were in 1843, when four contributions (including "_Punch's_ Phrenology") came from him; and then he resumed his usual work of journalist, became Thackeray's secretary for a time, and died through the upsetting of a coach in Richmond Park.

Pa.s.sing by Leman Rede and G. H. B. Rodwell (composer, playwright, and ballad writer), neither of whom, so far as I have been able to ascertain, has left any appreciable trace on _Punch_, we come to the man to whom, more than to anyone else, the paper owed the enormous political influence it once enjoyed, and to whom it is indebted for much of the literary reputation it still retains--Douglas Jerrold.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DOUGLAS JERROLD

(_From the Portrait by Sir D. Macnee, F.R.S.A., in the National Portrait Gallery._)]

If he was not exactly the wit of his day--for his mind lacked the wider sympathy, the greater grasp, and gentler refinement of Sydney Smith's--he was certainly the most brilliant professional humorist of his generation--"a wit, if not first, in the very first line." Something of the bitterness and savagery of Gillray's rampant pleasantry afflicted his _vis comica_; and when a happy thought, however unhappy and painful for the hearer, came to the tip of his tongue, he could no more resist slipping it off than he could wilfully have done him injury.

Mark Lemon used to say, "_Punch_ and I were made for each other." With far more reason could that notion of reciprocity be applied to Jerrold.

No man ever gained so much from the paper in which he worked. He simply frolicked in its pages, that fitted his talent as accurately as his genius suited the times in which he lived. It is doubtful whether he would make the same mark in it were he alive to-day; he would have to seek another publication and another public, or else adopt an utter change of tone. But in those lively times, when, obeying the summons addressed to him in Boulogne, he sent his first political paper--beginning characteristically with the introduction of Peel, in time for the second number--he gave his powers full play. And his sparkle was the brighter for its setting and its surroundings. His wit was for the most part caustic and saturnine, and in no other journal could it have so completely identified itself with the _ensemble_ of tone. Without _Punch_, Jerrold would certainly not have been so distinguished a man; yet he somewhere says in one of his works, with a touch of ingrat.i.tude: "If you'd pa.s.s for somebody, you must sneer at a play, but idolise _Punch_"--as though this were the height of priggishness. He was a keen judge of things, and might have held that view; but it was hardly for him, of all men, to publish it.

It is not surprising that, with the enormous reputation for wit which he enjoyed, and up to which he lived with such triumphant ease, all the smarter orphan-jokes of the day were fathered upon him. But there was a ring about the true Jerroldian humour which the connoisseur could hardly mistake. And the public soon became good enough judges of it too, studying it regularly in _Punch_, and refusing for the most part to be led away to look for it in the other journals which Jerrold edited, with but indifferent success so far as their circulation went. Although his fame was already established as a dramatist before _Punch_ was born, I doubt, without _Punch_, he would ever have earned the reputation in pure literature which his "Q Papers" helped to found.

It was with these "Q Papers" that he began, and he threw into them some of his strongest and most withering writing, and oftentimes some of his weakest sense. With his soft heart melting for the poor, and his fiery hatred of oppression warping his better judgment, he was led into that unreasoning attack upon property and authority to which Thackeray deprecatingly alludes. Because the poor are unhappy, according to his philosophy, therefore are the rich, most of them, their direct oppressors, and ruling bodies, tyrants. Fiercely upright and aggressively impulsive in his championship of the lowly, he was anything but sound and thorough in his premisses; and had he the power he might have wielded later, his defects as a political economist would infallibly have brought about disaster. "His Radicalism," his son has told us, "was that of a humorist"--that is to say, all his power and all his wit as a writer (and they had few, if any, equals in the press), all his genius for invective and ridicule, and all his commanding influence with the public, were directed against Society and the powers that were, simply from a playful sense of humour! Luckily, the evil, or at least the danger, thus found a corrective for itself; for although Jerrold's power, and with it _Punch's_, grew with amazing rapidity among all cla.s.ses, his tirades were felt to come more from the humorist's heart than from the statesman's brain. It is thus easy to draw a comparison between Jerrold and Jean Paul Friedrich Richter, of whom Carlyle says: "He is a humorist from his inmost soul; he thinks as a humorist, he feels, imagines, acts as a humorist. Sport is the element in which his nature lives and works.... A t.i.tan in his sport, as in his earnestness, he oversteps all bounds, and riots without law or measure." The words might almost have been written of Jerrold himself. But, for all that, he was generally recognised as a leading champion of the people's rights and reformer of their wrongs; and to this pa.s.sionate earnestness, to this keen wit and shrewd sincerity of the unconsciously special pleader, _Punch_ owed most of the early notice he obtained, and much of his influence in the worlds of politics and Society.

These papers, then, of which the first was "Punch and Peel" (July 24th, 1841), were, in fact, political leading-articles, satirical, ironical, bitter, and more often demagogic than humorous, though of wit and humour both there was a generous undercurrent. _Punch_ showed himself at once a fighting man who meant to be in the thick of the fray, a politician as impulsive as Macaulay; and though Jerrold did not begin to sign his articles until the ninth week (which has given grounds to some writers to a.s.sert that "Peel Regularly Called In" was the first of his contributions), he soon succeeded in setting up "Q" as a personality every bit as important and influential amongst his readers as _Punch_ himself. The Court, the Church, the Political and Social arena, he included them all in his comprehensive gaze, and not an injustice, a sham, an affectation, or a blunder--or what he happened to regard as such--but came in for exposure and castigation. It was fortunate for him and for _Punch_, no doubt, that he was "a humorist;" for his own blunders and misjudgments were regarded with the more indulgence for it, or were condoned as the excusable excesses of a chartered jester running playfully amok. But it must not be imagined that though a humorist he was not desperately sincere. His own early struggles, his ghastly experience, as he ever thought it, when as a midshipman in the Navy he saw how authority had to be enforced by flogging, and witnessed all the revolting horrors of the c.o.c.kpit during an engagement, had imparted intense earnestness to his mind; and he focussed all his brilliancy on the opportunity _Punch_ afforded of tilting at the windmills in the plain. The fact seems to be that Jerrold's heart, and sometimes his logic and his judgment as well, were a good deal of a woman's; distinguished by every estimable and admirable quality, but with little statesmanlike perspicuity and moderation. Such may truly be said of those early "Q Papers," by which, nevertheless, he was able to effect much, then and thereafter, greatly to the good of the people, yet often wrought some of that intolerance and injustice which he was too ready to ascribe to others.

It was he, more than anyone else, who forced on _Punch_ that admixture of Radicalism with his Whiggery which did not wear off for the first years of his life, and which was often enough preached with that picturesqueness of expression which we nowadays would smile at as "high-falutin." But the lofty ideas of the writer carried off this fault of style. His creed was simple and clear: Cant was devilish and Samaritanism G.o.dly; to him hypocrisy was the blackest of the vices, and kindness the sum of all the virtues. It mattered little that that kindness misplaced might bring a train of evils in its place; sympathy was the one thing wanted; the quinine of stern justice (except against the great and rich) should ever be watered down with mercy. It was, in fact, the religion less of the practical politician and true reformer, than of the worthy, upright, kind-hearted, unthinking Christian. His very fearlessness made men fear him, as his motives and ability compelled their respect; and the majority, who cared less for political philosophy than for political fervour, applauded him blindfold, and in due time accorded to _Punch_ a place in their esteem second only to that enjoyed by the "Times." Of course, "bitterness" was expected in the satirical papers of that day; and it is not pretended that Jerrold was ever so unreasonable or so anarchical in the pages of _Punch_ as William Brough revealed himself in the brilliant attacks on the propertied cla.s.ses in which he indulged in his Liverpool journal. He lost, of course, no opportunity of a.s.sailing the Duke of Wellington, and Louis Philippe, and the "Morning Post" (articles in which he attacked the sn.o.bs of England before Thackeray did), and other of _Punch's_ permanent b.u.t.ts; but his chief merit lies in his having set up the hereditary sins of Society as targets, and shot his barbed darts into them with unerring accuracy of aim. Of his bitterness it was said that it was "healthy--healthy as bark," just as Thackeray--was it not?--had previously said of his own writings in "Britannia."

It was not till a year afterwards (1842) that he began his "_Punch's_ Letters to his Son." They were tender enough, and show little evidence that they were written in weakness and in pain. His health, indeed, gave him periods of agony of a rheumatic character, pain in his hands so great that at one time he could not write, and at another his whole racked body practically paralysed, until a "cure" at Malvern gave him back control of it. On another occasion, but that was in later years, when he was asked how he was, he replied, "As one that is waiting and is waited for," and he often wrote, said his son, when the movement of the pen was fierce pain to him. We may see in this physical torment, perhaps, the mainspring of much of his caustic humour. Mr. Cooper, R.A., would ascribe to over-indulgence much of Jerrold's suffering. "His countenance was open and bright (when sober!), and showed nothing of that satirical bitterness for which he was so eminent.... In accordance with the fashion of the time the man who could not drink his bottle and remain sober, drank his bottle and got drunk." But the Academician, like most teetotalers, would often see drunkenness where Jerrold saw merely drink, and probably knew nothing of the latter's own feelings towards undue indulgence. "Habitual intoxication," wrote Jerrold himself, "is the epitome of every crime;" and elsewhere, "The bottle is the devil's crucible." Yet it must be admitted that he was not averse to what in his day was called "true conviviality," which, as I have heard it remarked, never yet made a man a drunkard, though it may sometimes have made him drunk. "If Bacchus often leads men into quagmires deep as his vats, let us yet do him this justice--he sometimes leads them out. Ask your opponent to take another gla.s.s of wine." And did not Thomas Hood suggest, when he was told that by his love of wine he was shortening his days, that anyhow he was lengthening his nights?

What may be called the "Jenkins" and the "Pecksniff" papers belong to the same year. The former were directed against the "Morning Post,"

which, with other loyal journals, in those days adopted a tone towards Court and Society hardly in keeping with modern ideas of manly independence, and of course its politics were to match. Thackeray and a Beckett joined later in the sport. But Jerrold, while believing in Thackeray's hatred of the sn.o.b, more than suspected him of being a sn.o.b himself; and Thackeray felt not less convinced of the hollowness of Jerrold's "stalwartness." "Thackeray had neither love nor respect for Jerrold's democracy," Vizetelly tells us. "I remember him mentioning to me his having noticed at the Earl of Carlisle's a presentation copy of one of Jerrold's books, the inscription in which ran: 'To the Right Honourable the Earl of Carlisle, K.G., K.C.B., etc. etc.' 'Ah!' said Thackeray, 'this is the sort of style in which your rigid, uncompromising Radical always toadies the great.'" And yet both men were honest toady-haters to the core. It was this very hatred of sn.o.bbism which inspired Jerrold with his cutting retort to Samuel Warren, author of "Ten Thousand a Year," who complained that at some aristocratic house at which he had recently dined he could positively get no fish. "I suppose," said Jerrold, "they had eaten it all upstairs!"[37]

The "Pecksniff" papers, as already stated, very nearly involved _Punch_ in its first libel action. The object of its criticism was, of course, Samuel Carter Hall, who, tradition says, was the origin of d.i.c.kens's immortal conception. This creation--the symbol of cant and hypocrisy--was after Jerrold's own heart, and, thinking less of charity this time than of justice, he smote the luckless editor of the "Art Journal" hip and thigh, and revelled in his attacks. Hall's articles on the industrial art of England were supposed to be dictated more by the complacency and generosity of manufacturers than by the artistic excellence of their wares. Sometimes Jerrold would use the image of "Pecksniff" for other and more serious purposes than the baiting of Mr.

Hall and his little ways, as when, in 1844, he made this biting onslaught on the Prime Minister, Sir Robert Peel:

"We have heard that Mr. Charles d.i.c.kens is about to apply to the Court of Chancery for an injunction to prevent Sir Robert Peel continuing any longer to personate, in his character of Premier, the character of Mr.

Pecksniff, as delineated in _Martin Chuzzlewit_, that character being copyright. We hope this rumour is unfounded, as the injunction would certainly be refused. Sir Robert Peel is in a condition to prove that the part in question has been enacted by him for a long series of years, and was so long before any of Mr. d.i.c.kens's works appeared; in short, that he, Sir Robert Peel, is the original Pecksniff."

The year 1843 was a notable one in _Punch's_ calendar, for in it Jerrold struck that note of sympathy and tenderness that was almost immediately to culminate in Hood's tragic poem. "The Story of a Feather" was begun, and was the greatest success the paper had scored up to that time, with the exception of the first Almanac. d.i.c.kens, who watched for it and read it as it came out, wrote privately to him that it was "a beautiful book," and his verdict was endorsed by the ever-increasing circle of _Punch's_ readers. "Our Honeymoon" was Jerrold's last series of the year--a year which drew from him plenty of outside work. He edited Mr.

Herbert Ingram's admirable but short-lived "Illuminated Magazine," and wrote for it the "Chronicles of Clovernook" and the "Chronicles of a Goosequill." It is astonishing, in looking back at Jerrold's remarkable work at this period, to think that the public reads his books no more, and prefers to ruin its literary taste on fifth-rate romances rather than on the virile novels of a recent past.

For a little while nothing of special note, though still a great ma.s.s of work, came from Jerrold's pen, until 1845, when, as prophesied by Hal Baylis (_see_ p. 97), "Mrs. Caudle" burst upon the town. In common with a few other things achieved by _Punch_, it created a national _furore_, and set the whole country laughing and talking. Other nations soon took up the conversation and the laughter, and "Mrs. Caudle" pa.s.sed into the popular mind and took a permanent place in the language in an incredibly short s.p.a.ce of time.

"Some years after I had ceased my connection with _Punch_," says Landells in one of his autobiographical papers now in my hands, "I met Douglas Jerrold at the corner of Ess.e.x Street in the Strand. It was the time when the first number of the 'Caudle Curtain Lectures' appeared. In the course of conversation I remarked that I did not read _Punch_ regularly, but I had by chance perused the opening chapter of his new subject, and I thought, if he followed up the series in the spirit he had begun, they would be the most popular that have ever appeared in its pages. He laughed heartily and replied--'It just shows what stuff the people will swallow. I could write such rubbish as that by the yard;' and he added, 'I have before said, the public will always pay to be amused, but they will never pay to be instructed.' The Caudle Lectures did more than any series of papers for the universal popularity of _Punch_, and there is no doubt but they added greatly to Jerrold's reputation, although he always affected not to think so."

The origin of Mrs. Caudle--one of those women interminably loquacious and militantly gloomy under fancied marital oppression, who (as Jerrold said of another) "wouldn't allow that there was a bright side to the moon"--was the result of no mental effort. Henry Mayhew's son has said that the character was evolved from the relations of Mr. and Mrs.

Landells; but to anyone conversant with them the suggestion is palpably absurd. Moreover, Jerrold, himself a good authority, one would have thought, declared that she was "the result of no thought;" she was merely "wafted into his brain." The reason of the immediate success of these "Curtain Lectures" was said to be that every woman in the land recognised in the lecturer a gratifying resemblance to someone in her own circle. It was primarily, no doubt, the _intime_ character of the papers, rather than their inherent humour, that tickled the public taste--though at the same time it gave some offence. A reminiscence of a literary _protegee_ of Jerrold's--Mrs. Newton Crosland--seems to bear this out. In company with her mother, she was dining at Jerrold's house, when, "towards the close of the meal, a packet arrived--proofs, I fancy; at any rate, Douglas Jerrold opened a letter which visibly disturbed him. 'Hark at this,' he said, after a little while; and he then proceeded to read a really pathetic though not very well expressed letter from an aggrieved matron, who appealed to him to discontinue or modify the Caudle Lectures. She declared they were bringing discord into families and making a mult.i.tude of women miserable."

But they made a greater mult.i.tude of men merry, and _Punch_ proceeded with them--indeed, he continued so long that his rivals protested loudly, as well they might in their own interests. They published engravings of handsome sarcophagi, and gave similar unmistakable hints that they considered the interment of Mrs. Caudle's corpse a long time overdue; while "Joe Miller the Younger" represented him as "The Modern Paganini playing on One String: 'Caudle--without variations.'" But Jerrold, who had lately moved from Regent's Park to his house, West Lodge, at Putney Lower Common, continued there to write Caudle Lectures "by the yard"--alternating the locale, according to Mark Lemon, with a tavern in Bouverie Street. And he laughed to see how his papers were translated into nearly every Continental language, and were transferred to the stage both in London and the provinces. Mrs. Keeley made a life-like Mrs. Caudle at the Lyceum--only perhaps a little too fresh and charming; the character in the provinces being often undertaken by male impersonators, such, for example, as Mr. Warren. John Leech executed upon stone a couple of admirable portraits of the conjugal pair, which were sold, coloured, for a shilling; but they were soon pirated and hawked about the streets, and the unprincipled conductors of "The Penny Satirist," and similar abominations, traded largely not only on the ident.i.ty of the Caudles, but on the words of Mrs. Caudle herself--so freely that legal steps had to be taken to stop the nuisance. The latest edition of this _jeu d'esprit_ is that which has been ill.u.s.trated by Charles Keene, and it can hardly be doubted that in his drawings he often touches the high-water mark of his artistic execution.

In due time Douglas Jerrold, as in duty bound, made the _amende honorable_ to the s.e.x he had maligned. He was invited to take the chair at a great public meeting held at Birmingham in his honour, when the whole audience rose at him. He was asked to speak without fear, "as there was no Mrs. Caudle in Birmingham." He responded that he "did not believe that there was a Mrs. Caudle in the whole world," and the gracefulness of his reference set him at peace with womankind once more.