Page:All the Year Round - Series 2 - Volume 1.djvu/212

 second blow at my head, which I fortunately avoided, the removal of a tangible object for the exercise of his vigour causing him to fall side-ways on the table. The pain which he apparently felt, when his own wooden head came into collision with the board, which had only an oilcloth covering, was clearly expressed by an increased brightness in his eyes. After viewing me maliciously for a few seconds, he dealt a blow at my table-lamp, the glass leg of which he demolished, causing the top to fall with a heavy crash, and leaving me no other light than such as was afforded by the fire in the grate. A violent bound then took him to my side-board, when with insane fury he effected the destruction of my wine glasses and cruets.

How little do we know what is good for us! Not many minutes before I had lamented the want of animation in the hideous figure I had so foolishly purchased, and now I would have given anything to see it deprived of the wild vitality I had still more foolishly thrust upon it.

The world in general is accustomed to look upon Punch as simply a ridiculous figure. On their way to the spots where they pursue the more serious occupations of life, gentlemen of education and intelligence have their attention arrested by the sound of a squeaking voice with which they have been familiar from childhood, and join a small crowd intent on witnessing the performance of a drama which causes universal laughter. They do not much understand what is passing before them, for the plot of the play has undergone considerable changes since the days when their mammas, at a considerable expense, bespoke a special performance of Punch for the amusement of the juvenile party assembled to celebrate their birthday. Possibly one of the combats at the time of their pause is between Punch and a very stiff dragon, which opens its jaws and fiercely squeezes the head of the puppet between them. They did not see such a dragon in the days of their youth; but they are not astonished at the innovation. The whole affair is too trifling to awaken anything like surprise, however adverse the performance may be to the law of precedent. The educated and intelligent spectators feel, however, that the soundless bite of an ill-shaped dragon is not sufficient to repay them for their slight sacrifice of time; an instinct tells them they ought to hear the crack of the cudgel against the wooden head. So they take care to see Punch strike one of his quasi-human adversaries, and to see the head of the adversary knocked smartly against the proscenium before they resume their journey.

The character of a man of education and intelligence may be tested by the precise moment at which he quits the semicircle of spectators ranged before Punch's show. Mere vulgarians, comprising especially those errand boys who have been enjoined not to lose a moment, are sure to stop till the performance is over, when they usually follow in the track of the retiring exhibitor, and therefore afford no criterion at all. But with the man of education and intelligence, who is sure never to see either the beginning or the end of the play, the case is altogether different. When he is liberal, he graciously waits till the cashier of the show comes with the hat, that he may pay a fair price for the enjoyment he has received. When he is stingy he takes fright at the hat, and its first appearance, even in the distance, is the signal for his departure. When he is merely careless, he retires indifferently, just as the fit takes him, without waiting for or shunning the opportunity of payment. But, however the men of education and intelligence may differ from each other, they all agree in one point. Every one of them, if on quitting the little crowd he runs against a friend who passes, leaving the show unnoticed, feels bound to apologise for having taken part in a recreation so frivolous. Some refer sentimentally to the delight afforded by reminiscences of the innocent days of children; some wisely make the novel remark that "men are but children of a larger growth;" some, more honest, confess that it is their weakness to like a laugh, however obtained, and to add that they look upon Punch as an expedient for the promotion of hilarity that has never been known to fail.

And so they walk away to keep important appointments, and to transact important business, little reflecting that they have witnessed one of the most awful tragedies ever offered to the contemplation of mankind. They have, in fact, seen represented a series of murders, all perpetrated by brutal means, that would raise the horror of civilised Europe if brought before the notice of a legal tribunal, and all accompanied by reckless derision on the part of the murderer, an uncouth being, whose form and voice seem to separate him from the rest of mankind. It is, I believe, by Charles Lamb that Punch is regarded as a compound of Richard the Third and Don Juan. But the wicked Englishman perishes on Bosworth Field, and the Spanish libertine is borne away by fiends; whereas there is no retributive justice in the tragedy of Punch. By hanging the hangman, the hook-nosed ribald shows that he is superior to human law; by killing the Evil One, who appears not as a tempter, but as a Nemesis, he shows that he is beyond the reach even of superhuman punishment. Of all the plays ever invented, there is none so thoroughly wicked as that in which the English Punch, widely differing from his Neapolitan ancestor, is the principal personage.

This is no digression. It is necessary for my readers to regard Punch from a serious point of view, and to know that I am capable of regarding him in a like manner, if they would appreciate the horror which I felt when a living, moving Punch, apparently an incarnation of the spirit of malice, was carrying on his work of destruction before my eyes, visible only by firelight. A statue, associated with nothing but cheerfulness—say, for instance, one of the insipid figures copied from some creation of Canova—when standing in a passage, where the rays of the moon, unmingled with other light, fall upon it, becomes a ghastly spectacle. In