With the assistance of information that we have gained, being a practical performer of acknowledged ability, we are about to fill up a hiatus in theatrical history.

It is singular that, to the present day, save by one author of a valuable work, now out of print, no other attempt has been made to illustrate the origin, biography and character of a person so distinguished and notorious as Mr. Punch. His name and his performances are familiar to all ranks and ages; yet none have hitherto taken the trouble, in this country or abroad, to make any inquiries regarding himself, his family or connections. The “studious Bayle” is recorded to have repeatedly sallied from his retreat, at the sound of the cracked trumpet, announcing his arrival in Rotterdam; and we ourselves, who have often hunted our favorite performer from street to street, saw the late Mr. Windham, then one of the Secretaries of State, on his way from Downing Street to the House of Commons, on a night of important debate, pause like a truant boy until the whole performance was concluded, to enjoy a hearty laugh at the whimsicalities of “the motley hero.” But it is needless to particularize. Punch has

while the old have stood by, “delighted with delight” of others, and themselves, too, enjoying the ludicrous representation. Why the interest has hitherto been limited to the period of representation, and whether it has not in part arisen from inability to satisfy it, is not for us to explain. We confine ourselves to an endeavor, in some degree, to supply the deficiency.

The contrast between the neglect Mr. Punch has experienced, and the industry employed in collecting particulars relating to other performers of far less reputation, is remarkable. Nevertheless, it is undeniable that his fame has spread “without his stirring” over all the kingdoms of the civilized world. To use the wordy periphrasis of Dr. Johnson,

if it can, and it will everywhere behold Punch dispensing “the luxury of a laugh.” It is literally true that some years ago he found his way to Canton; and that since the South American Revolution he has been seen even on the western side of the Andes. He is, perhaps, himself in part to blame for the neglect we have noticed. Several of the principal supporters of our theatres, in our own day, have given their memoirs to the world, either by writing them with their own hands, or by furnishing the materials to others; and the works of this kind by dead actors, “the forgotten of the stage,” consist of many volumes. Whether it has arisen from an absence of that vanity (may we call it?) which has at times influenced his histrionic rivals, or from a somewhat haughty reluctance on his part to gratify public curiosity, we know not.