Realism
Richard Ingrams T recently observed in my so-called tele- vision column that A J. Wentworth, 14' F. Ellis's saga of a poor old Pre!, schoolmaster was one of the few 80°' things ever to come out of Punch, mention- ing in the same breath The Diary of a pro- vincial Lady by E. M. Delafield and the car- toons of Pont. Almost by return of post was sent a copy of this book with a note from its enterprising publisher to the effect that it had hitherto been ignored. This seems a pity, as since the publica- tion, in 1969, of Pont's collected cartoons edited by Bernard Hollowood, a lot of Peo- ple have come along who may be unfamiliar with his work. Pont was the pseudonym 01, Graham Laidler (1908-40) son of a Pros- perous Newcastle businessman who, after training as an architect, became a regular contributor to Punch until his tragic death from tuberculosis at the age of 32. Pont specialised in observations of the English — the British in the title is wrong-- and in particular their response to the out- break of war in 1939. His cartoons from ale, Phoney War period will always be referral to by social historians wishing to recapture the mood of that time. Especially memor- able is the drawing of a scene in a pub with the regulars listening impassively to a Ger- man propaganda broadcast: 'Meanwhile, In Britain, the entire population faced by the threat of invasion, has been flung into a state of complete panic.' It was particularly in his observation of the middle classes that Pont excelled and it is a tribute to his genius as well as to the sin' vival instincts of the bourgeoisie that these drawings, now over 40 years old, have scarcely dated at all. Every woman, and man for that matter, will recognise the figure seated at a desk with her head sunk In her hands above the caption 'Absence of ideas for meals.' All that has changed Is that the expressionless cook who stands behind her has vanished forever, like all the servants in Pont's cartoons. Living, as I do, in a house full of beams, with too many dogs, shelves of detective stories, unanswered letters and various useless items that I am unable to throw awaY,I am the first to realise that I am look- ing in a mirror when leafing through this book. One figure that I have always par- ticularly identified with occurs in a drawing not in this collection — called 'A disinclination to go anywhere'. A morose looking man sunk in an armchair sits glowering at his wife who, with her hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone, waits for him to respond to an invitation which has just been extended at the other end of the line. He doesn't want to accept, but can't think up a good enough excuse. He conforms exactly to Sydney Smith's description of the typical Englishman: 'His forefathers have been out of spirits for six or seven hundred years and seeing nothing but fog and vapour, he is out of spirits too: and when there is no selling or buying, or no business to settle, he prefers being alone and looking at the fire.'
People who therefore try to dismiss Pont's drawings as mere caricatures or cliches, are simply trying to escape from reality. As he himself once told T. H. White, who had complimented him on his sense of humour: 'I do not try to draw fun-
ny I have no sense of humour. I try very hard to draw people exactly as they are.,
That, as White added, is why his draw- ings are so funny.
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