Punch (7.1844)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

S

private and confidential.

Our terrific artist has made a representation of the
Home Secretary, which we recommend to every Post-
master, Banking-house, Merchant's Office, and private
family in England : and which we present this week
Gratis. It is cheap, elegant, finely drawn, a wonder-
ful likeness, and a most moral and interesting allegory.

Look at him, and see how his fine eye is a rolling
between the folds of the letter ; lighted up with a tender,
curious, and parental expression !

Look at him, Ladies and Gentlemen — the Right
Honourable Secretary of State for the Home Depart-
ment : discharging one of the noblest duties of his high
office. As Lord Lynbhorst is Chancellor and Keeper of
the Seals, Sir James Graham is a Breaker of the same.

Look at this enlightened patron of Letters ! Far from
denying the soft impeachment the other night, he owned
it like a man. If the Emperor of Austria has a fancy
to know the nature of any person's correspondence, Sir
James Graham will get the little job done for him. If
the Pope of Rome, or the Prince of Tour and
Taxis, or the Emperor of Russia, or any other
crowned gentleman, is anxious to be acquainted with
the doings of his subjects in this country, a word to
Sir James Graham, and the English Home Secretary
will be charmed to oblige him.

There is nothing like mutual accommodation. Let us
keep well with the Governments of Europe. Politeness
costs nothing. In this case you do but open a letter, read
it, seal it up again cleverly, and send it on to its address. Is
the text a bit altered because somebody has just glanced
his eye over it? No, no more than your face is changed
because a policeman looks at you in the street.

There never was a more absurd complaint than that
of Count Oysterowski lately. Pie said something
uncomplimentary of the Emperor of Russia, or the
Imperial Trousers, for which the police seized the Count,
his paper-knives, and the papers in his desk. If a man
chooses to talk disrespectfully of an Emperor's breeches,
it is a natural consequence that his papers should be
seized. If his papers are seized, it is a natural conse-
quence that they should be read. If they are read, and
contain anything treasonable, the fault lies with him.
Why did he write or receive anything improper ; and what
business has he to abuse the breeches of any crowned
head ? The only Emperor one can speak of with safety
is the Kaiser of Timbuctoo, for he wears none—but
this is not to the purpose.

The question is this—as the Duke, Sir James, and
other revered Statesmen put it. It is the duty of a
Government to look into letters if they suspect the letters
to contain anything wrong.

Now, Governments are like men, more or less suspicious,
according to their temperament. Hence, the more a
Government is hated, the more suspicious it will naturally
become ; and the more it is its duty to open letters. What
a happy knack at letter-burglary some folks may get at this rate,
and what an enlarged sphere of agreeable " duties !" It was the duty
of the Council of Ten to clap any gentleman under the Plombcs if
they suspected him : it was the duty of the Emperor Napoleon and
Louis XVIII. to have a Cabinet Noir, and to open everybody's
letters : it is the duty of the admirable Emperor Nicholas
to have spies upon every man of mark in his dominions ; to have
little men to spy great men, fathers to spy sons, and rice versa;
and what is history for, but that Statesmen may profit by it; and
why are our governors to neglect advantages which every other
civilised state possesses 1 The only monarch who perhaps does not
open letters is Timbvctoo before mentioned : and why ?—See the
paragraph concerning the pantaloons.

As there is not the least reason why letters should not be opened,
there is not the least reason why other means of espial should not
be adopted: if Sir James Graham suspects anything wrong,
directly it becomes a duty to gratify all a Minister's suspicions, or
those of any adviser of his who suspects—there is no end to the duty
which will fall upon him.

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LONGER

For instance, because a tailor in St. James's-street
suspects that Count Oysterowski has intentions against
Russia, the Count's papers are seized : because the
Austrian or Sardinian, or any other legation, suspects
Mr. Mazzini, the letters that his friends write to him
are opened—it might enter into somebody's head to sus-
pect that Mr. Rothschild was engaged in treasonable
speculations, and, of course, it would be necessary to open
his letters to his broker to buy or sell; it might be
suspected that Mr. O'Connell's designs were suspicious,
and all letters to him or to Irish members, or to the cor-
respondents of Irish members, ought to be looked to, out
of mere duty—let the Chancellor look to it : here's a
fine opportunity for a commission.

In the debate in the Lords upon the subject, there was
one sensible thing said by our dear old Brougham. He
defended the letter-opening practice of course—Queen
Caroline's Attorney-General admitted that " cases
might arise, in which it might be necessary to obtain
information in this way;" a man should pursue "useful
knowledge" in spite of any such paltry difficulties as a
wafer or a bit of sealing-wax. But he did confess " that
it icas a very popular thing to declaim against the opening of
letters in the Post Office."

Yes, so popular a thing, that we hope every print in
every part of the nation will declaim against it, and
against Riffht Honourable Gentlemen who do it. It is-
likewise a popular thing to declaim against picking
pockets—well then, don't let us be ashamed of being m
the fashion.

THE " SPECTATOR" ON THE " WESTERN

GENII."

His blood is snow-broth.—Shakesferk.

The Spectator of Sunday last put its icy paw upon
poets who publish with Mr. Moxon. c< No one of those western
genii," it says, "is distinguished for a very manly or very
healthy tone of mind." Among these genii, be it remembered,
is Alfred Tennyson, the writer of Locksley Hall, and Barry
Cornwall, whose songs "stir the blood like a trumpet." To
these—he is in glorious company ; and, more, is worthy of it—
the Spectator adds, Mr. Coventry Patmore, a very young
writer, who has jusc given to the world a small volume of
poems—full of various beauty,—a volume which we heartily
recommend to all men. The Spectator in its own blight-
ing way reviews these poems—as an east wind would review
peach-blossoms—calling them nought ; and this time, at leasts
adding to its general unimaginative qualities, the sin of heavy-
ignorance. For instance, we believe no poetic critic— save
the gentleman who " does" the " western genii" in the
Spectator—could make the blunder we are about to charge
him with. Once upon a time there lived a man—lie wrote
little stories—named Boccaccio. Among these—almost the
gem of them—is the story of the falcon. Well, Mr. Pat.mork
takes this story, indicating as much in a line of verse. He
changes the name of the Italian hero Frederigo into Sir
Hubert, and faithfully keeping to the story, writes his poem.
Now what says the Spectator of its plot ?

" Sib Hubert" sets reason and probability at defiance. The scene is laid in times of
chivalry, or at least of hawking; the knight squanders his substance in feasting a l?dywhc
weds somebody else ; and then, instead of taking to the wars, or the road Sir H u e n
turns day-labourer, on what is called his last farm; which is so poor and unprofitable,
hat when his mist ess, some years afterwards, visits him as a widow to request a favour,
be l as to"k1his hawk for dinner, though it turns out that the bird she has eaten was the
cif she wanted. Such is the bathos of the school we speak of; such the substitute for
Tccuracy in manners and reason in conduct: and such the sort of weakness which often
mars the effect of considerable poetical powers:

Poor Boccaccio, after some five hundred years, unconsciously con-
demned for "bathos" in the person of a young poet of 1844 the
« school we speak of" being opened in the fourteenth century, it is heavily
censured as the weakness of the nineteenth ! , — . ,

We must own, however, that when we had gone through the: frost-work
which the Spectator puts forth for poetic criticism, we felt that m this
sultry weather a shake of the hand from the critic must be a refreshing
thing. _ _ ___

Good News.—The Scotch papers say, that the grouse are very plentiful
this year ; so that we may reasonably indulge in the pleasing anticipation
that Parliament will be dissolved early in August.