# Punch and Judy/Introduction

INTRODUCTION.
With the assistance of our friend, Mr. George Cruickshank, we are about to fill up a hiatus in theatrical history.
It is singular, that, to the present day, no 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 nobody has hitherto taken the trouble, in this country or abroad, to make any enquiries 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 favourite 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 particularise.—Punch has
"made our youth to laugh,
"Until they scarcely could look out for tears;"
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 endeavour 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. If an actor, on any of our public stages, attain only a moderate degree of eminence, hundreds are on the alert to glean the minutest particulars of his "birth, parentage, and education, life, character, and behaviour;" and thousands look out for them with eagerness in all the newspapers and periodicals of the day. Punch has never been famæ petitor:
"That last distemper of the sober brain," ​as Marvell calls it, has never been one of his weaknesses; but, 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,
"Let observation, with extensive view,
"Survey mankind from China to Peru;"
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; but whatever injury it may do the sale of our volume, it
​ought not in fairness to be concealed, that, towards us, the object and subject of the appended inquiry has preserved an obstinate silence which, in any other individual, we should say amounted to incivility. Even when informed that his portrait was to be drawn by Mr. George Cruikshank, it did not at all change his deportment. This circumstance is certainly to be regretted; but we flatter ourselves that our unaided resources have furnished much curious and interesting information: and if, by its publication, we give offence, we must "aby the event," knowing that, as Mr. Punch was deaf to our request, he will not listen to our apology.
Another remark may not here be out of its place: Poetry is unquestionably out of fashion; and because it was not "set by," as perhaps it ought to have been, the greatest (in every sense of the word) author of the day turned his attention to a different and more popular mode of writing. His astonishing success induced others to follow his example: they, too, tried their hands at historical novels; but, wanting the genius of their original, they endeavoured to keep up the interest of their narratives by the introduction of biographical matter. Still they found they were not read, and their next step was to make the dead the means of satirising and censuring the living; until, in a short time, this thin disguise was thrown aside, and novels became the vehicles of private anecdotes and malicious disclosures. Such is now the characteristic of our literature, excepting in as far as it was corrected by the "Colossus" aforesaid; and we appeal to all the puffs in all the papers for the proof, that fashionable slander, and the exposure of secret intrigues of persons in ​high life have been made the chief recommendation and attraction of such productions. The course has been, to assign the work of a "scribbling garreteer" to some lord or lady of distinguished connections, and to represent, that, for the sake of gratifying a mania for the consumption of pen, ink, and paper, he or she has condescended, first to play the spy, and afterwards the traitor, to friends and acquaintances.
Nothing of this kind will be found in the volume now in the reader's hand; and although the biography of the Punch family is, necessarily, partially included in our plan, those who expect that we shall detail particulars of his private amours and failings will be disappointed. Ariosto tells such as may not like certain parts of his gay poem, to turn over so many of its leaves: we advise those, who feel vexation at the preceding statement, to shut our book altogether; or, at least, not to do more than cast their eyes upon the plates: since they know by whom the drawings were made, it would, perhaps, be too much to suppose they could consent to relinquish that gratification. Those incidents of his life which our hero has chosen to make known, are of course not omitted; but, in our details and observations, we have spoken of him only in his public capacity,—as an actor of first-rate talents and the most extensive celebrity.
[PUNCH.
ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE COSTUMES OF ITALIAN COMEDY,
From Riccoboni.
HARLEQUIN. PANTALOON. DOCTOR. PUNCH.
(Ancient.) (Ancient.) (Modern.) (Neapolitan.)
SCAPIN. MEZZETIN. PIERROT. SCARAMOUCHE. (Neapolitan.)
* ↑ How this unhappy thought has run the gauntlet of authorship from the time of Simplicius (Comm. ad Epict. xlviii.) Δίο χαι εσχατος, λεγετχι των παδων, &c. Tacitus has it thus; "Etiam sapientibus cupido gloriæ novissima exuitur." (Hist. Lib. iv.) Montaigne places the love of glory among the humeurs desraisonnables of men, and adds, "Les philosophes mêmes se defacent plus tard, et plus envis, de cette-cy que de nulle autre." (Essays, L. i. c. 41.) Ben Jonson says the same thing: "Ambition—is the last affection A high mind can put off."—(Catiline, Act 3, Sc. 2.) It is also found in Massinger: "Though desire of fame be the last weakness Wise men put off.—(A Very Woman, Act 5, Sc. 4.) And Owen Feltham follows Tacitus very closely: "Desire of glory is the last garment that even wise men lay aside."—(Resolves, p. 15.) We may wind up the whole with Milton, who, like others, has deemed the thought common property, when he tells us in Lycidas, that fame is "That last infirmity of noble mind:" upon which, in fact, Marvel's line, above quoted (and which is to be found in his "Satire on Flecno, an English priest, at Rome") is only a parody.
* ↑ See the introductory stanzas to Book xxviii. of the "Orlando! Furioso." "Lasciate questo canto, che senz' esso, Può star l'istoria," &c.
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