Punch (9.1845)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

91

^unit's Election Intelligent*.

he tranquil suburb of Kensington has long
been in a state of rabid excitement on account
of a vacancy having been declared in the su-
pernumerary beadledom. It was at one time
'(C£\ 'J supposed that Pummell, who has long worn
TB^^ ) the purple—a very dark-blue official coat—was

B^fr-g?1 about to lay down, the cane, and retire into

=> the privacy of his own shop; for Pummell,

Exfl^HvA like Polonius, is not only an officer of state,

B&WW$i but "a fishmonger." On making inquiry at

•*^C^> the respected beadle's own house, the answer

returned was, " never say die ;" and it is be-
lieved that Pummell will continue to pummel to the last the
refractory urchins of Kensington. It is, however, found necessary
to appoint a supernumerary beadle, for the energetic officer we
have named was found to be rapidly sinking under the cares of
the laced hat, while the weight of the cape was more than one man
could possibly bear up under.

No complaint, however, not a murmur of any kind, not a sigh, or
even a groan, has escaped the lips of the persevering Pummell. It
is the opinion of the pew-opener that the good man and energetic
officer would have died " with harness on his back," like Macbeth in
the play, and poor old Jack in the dust-cart. At length the superior
authorities, seeing that the beadle of their boyhood, the Pummell
of their playful hours, was being rapidly crushed under the parochial
beaver—at length, we say, the superior authorities of Kensington
resolved on appointing a supernumerary beadle ; and the contest for
the additional cane, collar, cape, and cuffs, has thrown Kensington
into a continued ferment for the last four weeks.

Some of the inhabitants have taken a constitutional objection to
the creation of an extra beadledom, and they declare they have read
the Reform Act through and through, over and over again, back-
wards and forwards, upside down, and topsy turvy, without finding j
anything in the measure to justify the course that has been resolved
upon. They say that though Finsbury may send two members to
Parliament, Kensington has no right to send two beadles anywhere.
That, however, is a matter for future consideration. Even the
appointment of Pummell himself is not exactly like the laws of the
Medes and Persians—irrevocable.

Having just skimmed the surface of this bit of constitutional doc- j
trine, we proceed to the more immediate subject of interest—the
election for the extra beadledom.

Pummell, with his customary tact and delicacy, altogether refuses
to aid the pretensions of either part v. One of the candidates, how-
ever, comes forward on the railway interest, and he professes to be
ready to extend Punch's Kensington Railway, but where on earth he
is to draw the line is at present a mystery.

His adversary calls himself the farmer's friend; but as there is
not a farm in the whole parish, his friend the farmer must have very
little local influence.

Candidate No. 1 insists that the rail must triumph over every-
thing, which is in fact advising the process of ruling with a rod of
iron.

Candidate No. 2 asks what is to become of agriculture if
the country is cut up for railroads, and calls upon the people of
Kensington to rally round their lettuces and their fruit-trees, and to
plant the standard as well as the espalier of liberty in its native
soil.

Not wishing to give an undue advantage to either of the candidates,
we refrain from deciding on the pretensions of either ; but we do
hope that Kensington, which is now labouring under a general
attack of the heart-burn, will soon be restored to its former state of
cordiality and good feeling, by a decision one way or the other of
this most acharne contest.

The Engines of War.

A NEW office has been established at Algiers. It is called the Office
o'Avocat des Arabes, and has been established to defend the natives in
trials, and cases of emergency. To carry out this humane intention, we
fmpe Marshal Bugeaud will see that there is a fire brigade added to the
t-Hcablishment, with a strong detachment of engines.

THE STATE OF THE ROYAL NURSERY.

The venerable Homer, they say, sometimes nods ; but our equally
venerable Laureat seems to be always snoring. Nevertheless, we cannot
help regretting that he should have missed many good chances of coming
before the public ; among others, that furnished by the Queen's Visit to
Germany. We consider that in the composition of the following lines, in
connection with that event, we are absolutely doing his work for him, and
we accordingly expect him to bestow a leaf from his chaplet on us, if no:
to " stand" a bottle of his official Malmsey. With this brief preface
introduce we our more brief Poem ; to wit:—

SPECULATION.—A SONNET OF THE PALACE.

I wonder what the Royal children do,
Now that their gracious parents are away ;
Whether like mice, when puss is out, they play,
And turn their princely nursery upside down ;
Presuming on the absence of the Crown,
•Frisking and frolicking, with gambols gay,
And shouting " Whoop ! " and " Hip, hip, hip, hooray !■
To use a common phrase—till all is blue ?
For the blood royal, sure, is human still ;
And well we know what children are about,
What time the darlings know their mother's out.
But whither wanders my presumptuous quill ?
Haply, whilst thus I build my loyal rhyme,
The babes august are crying all the time.-

TO SIR E. BULWER LYTTON, BART.

Sir,

You dedicate the last edition of your "Zanoni" to Gibson, the
sculptor, in these words :

" I, artist in words, dedicate to you, artist whose ideas speak in marble, this well-
loved work of my matured mauhool. I love it not the less because it has been little
understood, and superficially judged, by the common herd. It was not meant for them."

Now, Sir Edward, this is not fair to the circulating libraries. It's
all very well to talk of the " common herd " and say it " was not meant
for them," with a curl of your fine lip ; but you know it was meant for
everybody who could pay threepence for a perusal of the volumes—and
very popular it has been, especially with ladies'-maids and milliners.

You call yourself " artist in words ; " this is not original. There is a
man in Oxford Street who calls himself " artist in hair," and you ought, in
justice, to dedicate your next novel to him. There is an analogy between
your work and his, which I can't discover between yours and Gibson's.

His material is as flimsy, his workmanship as dexterous, as your own.
He will spin you a landscape or a cipher, a memento mori or a motto,
with equal facility—and it shall be but hair after all. So you, Sir
Edward, have spun for us a sentimental highwayman, a high-souled
felon, a speculative seducer, a philosophic dandy, and yet the stuff of all
was one and the same—"self," Sir Edward, "self."

Why are you always complaining 1 The public read your novels ;
the publishers pay for them : you are a lion at dinners, a thing to point at
in the streets. What would man have more 1 It is all very well to put
off a clever pinchbeck imitation for gold—we grant the skill of the
workmanship and the workman,— but it is too bad to insist on our
acknowledging it to be genuine gold, and to call us "common herd," when
we give you a sturdy " no."

Forgive your friendly monitor for the tone he has taken towards you.
We have no objection to your considering yourself ill-used ; but you
become a bore when you are always dinning it in our ears. A play of
yours is successful—we are "a discriminating public." Your next play is
dammed—we are a "common herd." Your Pilgrims of the Rhine
makes a hit in Germany ; you dedicate one edition to the German public,
as philosophical critics, or something of the sort.

You must not be allowed to fancy you hold the scales quite so firmly
and uncontestedly; that your works are the gauge and test of artistic
judgment and taste, in this way ; and it is to remind you of this, that we
have taken up our pen, with which, nevertheless, we subscribe ourselves,

Your admirer (within limits),

A Very Good Excuse.

We have been assured, on the best authority, that the absence of the
Sun is attributable solely to the fact, that since he has acquired so mu-n
fame by his photogenic pictures, he has been keeping out of the way j.*>
fear he should be made Precident of the Royal Academy.