Chats in the Book-Room :: Chat No. 8.

Chat No. 8.

"Punch! in the presence of the passengers."

Letter W

Within the past year certain gentle disputes and friendly discussions as to the origin of Punch, and who its first real editor was, and whether or no Henry Mayhew evolved it with the help of suitable friends in a debtor's prison, remind us that Foxwold possesses some rather curious "memories" of this famous paper.

These disputes should now be put to rest for ever by Mr. Spielmann's exhaustive "History of Mr. Punch," which, it may safely be supposed, appeared with some sort of authority from "Mr. Punch" himself.

One of our "Odds and Ends" is a kit-kat portrait in oil of Horace Mayhew, "Ponny," excellent both as a likeness and a work of art, which should eventually find hanging space in the celebrated Punch dining-room. There is also a pencil drawing of him, in which "the Count," as he was called, is dressed in the smartest fashion of that day, and crowned with a D'Orsay hat, resplendent, original, and gay.

He made a rather unhappy marriage late in his life, and found that habits from which he was not personally free showed themselves rather frequently in his wife's conduct. One day, in a state of emotion and whisky and water, he pressed Mark Lemon's hand, and, bursting into tears, murmured, "My dear friend, she drinks! she drinks!!" "All right," was the editor's cheery reply, "my dear boy; cheer up, so do you!"

Near by hangs a characteristic pencil sketch of Douglas Jerrold, who, if small, was no hunchback (as has been lately stated), but was a very neatly made, active little man, with a grand head covered with a profusion of lightish hair, which he had a trick of throwing back, like a lion's mane, and a pair of bright piercing blue eyes. There is an engraving of a bust of him prefixed to his life (written by his son, Blanchard Jerrold), which well conveys the nobility of the well-set head. Then comes a capital drawing of Kenny Meadows in profile, and a thoroughly characteristic Irish phiz it is.

These pencil portraits are all from the gifted hand of Mr. George Augustus Sala, and formerly belonged to Horace Mayhew himself. Mr. Sala, as is now well known by means of his autobiography, was once an artist and book-illustrator, and Foxwold is the proud possessor of the only picture in oil extant from his brush. It is called "Saturday Night in a Gin-Palace": it is full of a Hogarthian power, and by its execution, drawing, and colour shows that had Mr. Sala made painting his profession instead of literature, he would have gone far and fared well. The little picture is signed "G. A. Sala," and was found many years ago in an old house in Brompton, when the present owner secured it for a moderate sum, and then wrote to Mr. Sala asking if the picture was authentic. A reply was received by the next post, in the beautiful handwriting for which he is famous, and runs as follows:—-

46 Mecklenburgh Square, W.C.,

Tuesday, Twenty-fifth June 1878.

Dear Sir,

I beg to acknowledge receipt of your courteous and (to me) singularly interesting note.

"Yes, the little old oil-picture of the 'Gin-Palace Bar' is mine sure enough. I can remember it as distinctly as though it had been painted yesterday. Great casks of liquor in the background; little stunted figures (including one of a dustman with a shovel) in the foreground. Details executed with laborious niggling minuteness; but the whole work must be now dingy and faded to almost total obscuration, since I remember that in painting it I only used turpentine for a medium, the spirit of which must have long since 'flown,' and left the pigment flat or 'scaly.'

"The thing was done in Paris six-and-twenty years ago (Ap. 1852), and being brought to London, was sold to the late Adolphus Ackermann, of the bygone art-publishing firm of Ackermann & Co., 96 Strand (premises now occupied by E. Rimmel, the perfumer), for the sum of five pounds. I hope that you did not give more than a few shillings for it, for it was a vile little daub. I was at the time when I produced it an engraver and lithographer, and I believe that Mr. Ackermann only purchased the picture with a view to encourage me to 'take up' oil-painting. But I did not do so. I 'took up' literature instead, and a pretty market I have brought my pigs to! At all events, you possess the only picture in oil extant from the brush of

Yours very faithfully,

George Augustus Sala."

To H. N. Pym, Esq.

When Mr. Sala afterwards called to see the picture, he altered his mind as to its being "a vile little daub," and found the colours as fresh and bright as when painted. We greatly value it, if only as the cause of a lasting friendship it started with the artist.

His own portrait by Vernet, in pen and ink, now graces our little gallery; it is a back view, taken amidst his books, and a most characteristic and excellent likeness of this accomplished and versatile gentleman. [1]

One of our guest-chambers is solemnly dedicated to the honour and glory of "Mr. Punch," and on its walls hang some original oil sketches by John Leech, drawings by Charles Keene, Mr. Harry Furniss, Randolph Caldecote, Mr. Bernard Partridge, Mr. Anstey Guthrie, and Mr. Du Maurier; whilst kindly caricatures of some of the staff, and a print of the celebrated dinner-table, signed by the contributors, complete the decoration of a very cheery little room.

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