Social Pictorial Satire | Page 7

stout, matronly, and rather severe; and Edwin will be fat,
bald, and middle-aged, and bring home a bundle of asparagus and a
nice new perambulator to celebrate the wedding-day!
And he loves her brothers and cousins, military or otherwise, just as
dearly, and makes them equally beautiful to the eye, with those lovely
drooping whiskers that used to fall and brush their bosoms, their
smartly waistcoated bosoms, a quarter of a century ago! He dresses
them even better than the darlings, and has none but the kindliest and
gentlest satire for their little vanities and conceits--for they have no real
vices, these charming youths, beyond smoking too much and betting a
little and getting gracefully tipsy at race-meetings and Greenwich
dinners--and sometimes running into debt with their tailors, I suppose!
And then how boldly they ride to hounds, and how splendidly they
fight in the Crimea! how lightly they dance at home! How healthy,
good-humoured, and manly they are, with all their vagaries of dress and
jewellery and accent! It is easy to forgive them if they give the whole
of their minds to their white neckties, or are dejected because they have
lost the little gridiron off their chatelaine, or lose all presence of mind
when a smut settles on their noses, and turn faint at the sight of Mrs.
Gamp's umbrella!
And next to these enviable beings he loves and reveres the sportsman.
One is made to feel that the true sportsman, whether he shoots or hunts
or fishes, is an August being, as he ought to be in Great Britain, and
Leech has done him full justice with his pencil. He is no subject for
flippant satire; so there he sits his horse, or stalks through his
turnip-field, or handles his rod like a god! Handsome, well-appointed
from top to toe, aristocratic to the finger-tips--a most impressive figure,
the despair of foreigners, the envy of all outsiders at home (including
the present lecturer)!
[Illustration: A SPECIMEN OF PLUCK
RUGGLES. "Hold hard, Master George. It's too wide, and uncommon
deep!"

MASTER GEORGE. "All right, Ruggles! We can both
_swim_!"--Punch.]
He has never been painted like this before! What splendid lords and
squires, fat or lean, hook-nosed or eagle-eyed, well tanned by sun and
wind, in faultless kit, on priceless mounts! How redolent they are of
health and wealth, and the secure consciousness of high social
position--of the cool business-like self-importance that sits so well on
those who are knowing in the noblest pursuit that can ever employ the
energies and engross the mind of a well-born Briton; for they can ride
almost as well as their grooms, these mighty hunters before the Lord,
and know the country almost as well as the huntsman himself! And
what sons and grandsons and granddaughters are growing up round
them, on delightful ponies no gate, hedge, or brook can
dismay--nothing but the hard high-road!
It is a glorious, exhilarating scene, with the beautiful wintry landscape
stretching away to the cloudy November sky, and the lords and ladies
gay, and the hounds, and the frosty-faced, short-tempered old huntsman,
the very perfection of his kind; and the poor cockney snobs on their
hired screws, and the meek clod-hopping labourers looking on excited
and bewildered, happy for a moment at beholding so much happiness in
their betters.
[Illustration: ONE OF MR. BRIGG'S ADVENTURES IN THE
HIGHLANDS
After aiming for a Quarter of and Hour Mr. B. fires both of his
Barrels--and--misses!!!! Tableau--The Forester's Anguish--_Punch_,
1861.]
To have seen these sketches of the hunting-field is to have been there in
person. It is almost the only hunting that I ever had--and probably ever
shall have--and I am almost content that it should be so! It is so much
easier and simpler to draw for Punch than to drive across country! And
then, as a set-off to all this successful achievement, this pride and pomp
and circumstance of glorious sport, we have the immortal and
ever-beloved figure of Mr. Briggs, whom I look upon as Leech's

masterpiece--the example above all others of the most humorous and
good-natured satire that was ever penned or pencilled. The more
ridiculous he is the more we love him; he is more winning and
sympathetic than even Mr. Pickwick himself, and I almost think a
greater creation! Besides, it took two to make Mr. Pickwick, the author
and the artist, whereas Mr. Briggs issued fully equipped from the brain
of Leech alone!
Not indeed that all unauthorised gallopers after the fox find forgiveness
in the eyes of Leech. Woe to the vulgar little cockney snob who dares
to obtrude his ugly mug and his big cigar and his hired, broken-winded
rip on these hallowed and thrice-happy hunting-grounds!--an
earthenware pot among vessels of brass; the punishment shall be made
to fit the crime; better if