Punch (9.1845)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

THE WATERLOO BANQUET.

From our own Reporter.



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A SKETCH

TAKEN ON THE MORNING OF THE 18TH OF JUNE.

This gathering took place, as usual, at Apsley House, on the 18th—the I that many who were last year present—many who had shared the storm

glorious eighteenth. The Morning Chronicle says "covers were laid on
this occasion for 76." This is a mistake ; and as we shall subsequently
show, a very important mistake. The number was 77 !

All the arrangements were the same as those observed for a succession

of battle with him—were now no more. He would, however, not dwell upon
the theme. His Royal Highness had been pleased to speak of bis (the
Duke's) laurels. He could not deny the possession of them ; but whilst
he did not underrate their value, it was his earnest prayer that the world

of years. There was the same gorgeous display of plate—there was the j would never again behold such a wreath ; purchased with so much misery,
Wellington Shield iu all its massive beauty and effulgence ! j so much anguish to the great family of man. In every leaf of the soldier's
The dinner over, Her Majesty's health was drunk with acclamations, j laurel were blood and tears. He had seen a great deal of the horrors of
After which the Duke of Wellington rose to give the health of Prince ! conquest, and it was his prayer that this country, at least, would for ever
Albert. His Royal Highness (said his Grace) was, indeed, a very young ; be spared a renewal of the misery. In a word, he trusted that War had
soldier; but his military ardour was most pleasingly conspicuous. (Cheers.) j had its day. (The Noble Duke, after a short pause, then continued.)
11 was delightful to see him in the van of all the picture shops. His Royal [His friends might be surprised to see among them Private- (the

Highness had been painted in, it was impossible to say how many uniforms :
and if he, the Duke, knew anything of what made a soldier, he would
argue from the bold and determined way in which, in his picture, his
Royal Highness held his hussar-cap—he would (said the Duke) prophecy
for the Prince, in the event of a war, a grove of never-fading laurel.
(Cheers.) He could not sit down without also alluding to the graceful, yet
sagacious way, in which his Royal Highness, in another picture, held his
hnton de marechal. It was very pretty—more than pretty ; it was great.

name and the regiment escaped us, but his Grace pointed smilingly to a
private soldier at the bottom of the table). They would perceive that he
was an old man—that he wore the Waterloo medal. He (his Grace)
had thought that as the chiefs of Waterloo were every year thinned by
death—he had thought, he said, that it would be honourable to them-
selves, that it would be pleasing to the Army at large, to see at least
one private soldier at that table—one private veteran, who had distin-
guished himself at Waterloo—so that whilst they paid due honour to

He would confidently refer the company to the window of Mr. Colnaghi j humble worth in the person of an individual, they themselves might
t» bear him out. His Grace concluded by proposing—" Health to the
soldier, Prince Albert!"

Band,—" How happy the soldier who lives on his pap."

not for a moment forget that it was to the bone and muscle and in-
domitable courage of the masses of the British empire that the victory—
under Providence—was to be ascribed. The Noble Duke then gave
" The health of Private-(again the name escaped us ; so let us call

His Royal Highness replied to the toast. It was not for him, in the him Private Seventy-Seven), and the common soldiers who fought at
presence of such veterans, to speak of his own military achievements. Waterloo !" (Drunk with cheers.)
Yet he hoped he had done something for the service. He had sat and j Band,—" A man's a man for a' that."

stood for—the number escaped us, but we think his Royal Highness said Private Seventy-Seven rose, made the military salute, tossed off hia
five hundred—military portraits of himself (Cheers). He was as ready , and with s;vimming eye8 and a voice touched with emotion, cried,
to stand and sit for as many more ! (Renewed cheers.) He hoped—in the g God blegs gentlemen —thank'ee !"

flattering words of the distinguished Duke—he hoped yet to lead the van The • le eloquence of the man had a marked effect upon the veteran
of the picture shops, as a Colonel of French Cuirassiers-as a Chief of the j chief who were evidently as much 8urprised as delighted by the unex-
Cossacks—as an Officer of the Chapelgorris—as, in fact, an officer of any | ted ^vitation of Private Seventy-Seven by the Hero of a Hundred

and every military force whatever ! (Enthusiastic clieers.) He might also
be allowed to state that he had made a new hat for a part of the army—
(Settsation)—a hat that took away something from the hitherto inflexible
sternness of the infantry, and gave to the wearer a certain air of low
comedy — if he might use the expression—that, as he was credibly

Fights.

The meeting separated at an early hour.

We have now, as faithful chroniclers of events, merely to observe,
that we trust our contemporaries will in future give a more authentic
account of the Waterloo Banquet. Not that we feel quite satisfied with

informed, had had a slaughtering effect on the Park nursery-maidE^ourselves that we have not obtamed the Dame of the humb]e guest of the
(Laughter). He had also-though it pained him to speak of his military EighteelUh . and hereupon offer as a reward the Eight Volumes of Punch
achievements—he had also invented a new uniform for his regiment. He , tQ one who wln favour us with the true name 0f the private soldier
had clothed His Own in cherry-coloured trousers ; thereby expressing a whom> m our need we have been compelled t0 distinguish as Private
significant hint to all the universe that he and his corps were ready to I Seventv-Seven '
siicd their blood for the defence of their country (Loud cheers). His'
Royal Highness in conclusion gave " The health of the Duke of Wel-
lington—the laurel-crowned Wellington !"

The Noble and Gallant Host—amid enthusiastic cheering—rose. He
said, the recurrence of that day brought him great pleasure, though not
unmingled with pain. Looking around that board, he could not but feel

THE NATIONAL DRAMA.

Some wicked wag last week wrote over the portico of Drury Lane, just
under the statue of Shakspere, u This is the Original Bunn House."