The Sun.
London, England, 1862-11-18 00:00:00

MR. LEECH'S GALLERY.

Accustomed as we are to turn over the pages of Punch
from week to week, and look at the pictures before we can
read a line, what an odd freak it appears to convert those
rough and hastily•drawn sketches of life into pictures for
"a gallery." It cannot be seen in most cases that the story
has been told by a few slight touches, and a mere scratch-
ing of a background ; and, in like manner, the engraver has
rather chipped than etched them for the printer, so that, as
a matter of art, the originals were more prized for their sug-
gestiveness, for finish and detail were rarely to be seen.
Yet we had the whole mind of the artist on the matter
illustrated, a whole family history, sometimes with such a
mingling of the ludicrous and pathetic, that we know not
whether to laugh or cry; at other times, the pretentious
nobody or the supercilious somebody, or the unconscious
actor in a farce of real life was so taken in the moment of
real characterization, that the mere sketch became at once
an integral part of our literature; so true, that nobody
could mistake its meaning, and so free from aught that
could offend, that the victims of the raillery might, if the
choose, be the first to laugh. Mr. Cruikshank, in his
best days, had a vivid imagination, but his mannerism was
never pleasing. On the other hand, Mr. Leech is less im-
ginative, but whatever is peculiar to himself and his pic-
tures adds to our enjoyment, and we shall never forget his
perplexed horsemen, his disappointed anglers, his precocious
boys, and, best of all, his self-possessed and unvanquishable
women, with a power in their ringlets ;sufficient for the
conquest of a world. As a step towards an estimate of
Mr. Leech's versatility, compare " Grandpapa dancing Sir
Roger de Coverley," a perfect gem of a picture, that will
draw tears to the eyes, with " Mr. Bottles the Butler," or,
, " Married for Money." Yet the merit in each is the
same ; it is the outrageous truthfulness that carries us

completely with the artist into the very spirit of the scene
and its surroundings, so that his pathos and his humour
have each the freshness of reality. People say, " How he
draws women." Well, he does certainly present the femi-
nine form in a variety of attitudes and make enormous fun
out of crinoline, courtship, and the rest of the feminine
nonsenses. But there is not a woman on the face of the
earth that could venture to say, " Fie, Mr. Le.sech," for he
never forgets the winning qualities of the sex, and our
young men would very much like to choose their wives
from these sketches, and having chosen them, wives and
husbands would laugh together and enjoy for the rest of
their days the happy idea of the quizzical artist through
which they first became acquainted. But what among the
myriad subjects Mr. Leech has extracted fun from, for the
pages of Punch, does ho not draw well ? It is in such
rough off-hand work that you have the best test of genius',
there is no mending or patching possible ; the thought goes
forth hot from the mental oven never to get cool again, 6314
it warms the world to its own temperature and by so much
adds to the sum of human happiness. Is there anything
among the best ,pictures of Landseer to surpass in sprit
and truthfulness some of Mr. Leech's horses ? Take the
" Noble Science" (38) for example, and you have one
ow
of the
great difficulties of art, the representation of motion, c
quered at a touch, where the " second horseman" hops ova!
the gate " like a bird." Not less worthy of admiration 16
the jaded hunter in" Moderation" (75) ; he has been hunted
three days, and is now having a rest in the dog-cart---a
drooping steed that would be better at home in the pound,
but must go on to please the thoughtless greed of the under
graduates, like the cabman's horse in "Pickwick," com-
pelled to his work by the big wheels. The Society for the
Prevention of Cruelty toAnimals might do well to circulat
copies of that picture as an infinitely more telling preach-
ment than any number of tracts and affectionate addresses.
But see the little ponies with their cool juvenile riders
iii
" Ruggles" (20), " Gone Away" (36), and "A Cavalier"
(5). What a grand action of the horse is that of " Our
Friend Tom Noddy" (46), where the ill-matched pair come
tearing down the hill at a killing pace, and Tom has nothing
for it but to grip tight and shut his eyes, and resign biu
self to fate. If these pictures are to be subjected to sever°
criticism, it will be none the worse for Mr, Leech's WA. ,e•
We have notgenerally expected high art in the carie,aterlsl
but we have it here ; the groups are oftensogracefullY pose"-
that the sketch might serve for a finished pictures
they are but sketches after all, and the process of colouring
only intensifies their reality—it does not spoil their fresh"
ness, or anywhere weaken the humour.
No doubt it is for their inexhaustible fun they will be,
as they have been, most prized by the public. Oar smaller,
vices are not " lashed" by the artist, but made ridiculous
they are not frowned down, but laughed down ; and we feel
in the presence of this inimitable quiz that our convert
thoagh
tionalities are awfully vapid compared with the "picturesque
of man with man." The ancients thought it worth itt^.
tempting to get out of their bodies to think ; Mr. Leech
takes another course, and gets into our bodies to think, end
the result is such sketches as "Miss Matilda" (53)}
"Tableau" (70), "Miss Stout" (74), and "Remarkable
Occurrence" (78).—City Tress.