Punch (12.1847)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

117

SPORTING AT CANNES.

THE PLOUGHMAN'S PETITION.

Kind gentlefolks, Members of Parliament, please ye,

I'm a poor agricultural labouring man ;
I am sure I'm uncommonly sorry to tease ye,

But I hope you '11 do something for me if you can.
Eight millions and more to the Irish you've granted ;

Very well, I have nothing to say against that :
I am told, and believe, that the money was wanted,

From starvation to save poor unfortunate Pat.

RGENTE£G01N&QUT£ SWOTYN&F..

BKAVN FROM VE QUYCK^LO

We find, from the papers, that Mr. John Temple Leader has
been following up the pleasures of the chase at Cannes, in the absence
of his learned friend, Lord Brougham. By the bye, his lordship
declares that he never hunted a boar in all his life ; and indeed we
believe him, for there would have been something suicidal—making a
small allowance in the way of spelling—for his persecution of that
unpleasant animal. Our advices from Cannes give us a very curious
picture of the sports of the field, as indulged in by the nominal M. P.
for Westminster. An artist who draws his pictures from the life, or
rather, draws all the life from his pictures, has sent us a very graphic
sketch of the pastimes now proceeding at Cannes, as far, at least, as it
is possible to see them from such a distance.

According to the comparison we have been able to make between
the original and the copy, we think them alike ; as near, at least, as
circumstances could have permitted. These circumstances, being
some hundreds of miles off, may account for some trifling discrepancy
between the thing intended to be delineated and the picture.

THE TENOR OE THE CURSE.

The celebrated Fraschini, the Tenore della maledizione, has appeared
at Her Majesty's Theatre. His imprecation in Lucia di Lammermoor
certainly justified all that we had heard said of it. We fully expected
that our blood would run cold, and we went prepared with a thermo-
meter, which, upon applica'ion to our pulse, indicated, during the
tremendous maledizione, thirty-five of Fahrenheit. The audience
would have kept Fraschini cursing all night, had it not been unrea-
sonable to demand more than a pair of maledictions in one evening.
Fortunately, our veins resumed their wonted fluency at the Fra Poco,
which warmed us up after our recent chill ; or we might have found
our circulation completely stopped, and that, we need scarcely say,
would have been the death of us. We looked in vain for the singing
from the eyes, with which a contemporary had given us to understand
Fraschini would favour us. He certainly ac'ed with his eyes, and
lashed himself up into enthusiasm, while the audience applauded " like
winking." Fraschini has one of those voices, di petlo, which are great
pets with us; instead of that wee di testa which is in some cases detestable.
Though we have made some cursory remarks on 1 is curse, we do not
mean to say that "malediction only is his forte, for he can also take his
place p-s a tenore di tcnerezza among the very first of that quality.

But you, who conduct the affairs of the nation,

So considerate to Paddy in want and distress,
Can't you help me a little in my situation ?

I don't think I deserve your benevolence less.
I work well for my living at least—what's my payment ?

Recollect that a wife and young children have I—
Seven shillings a week. Will it buy food and raiment ?

If it will, will it leave us a mite to lay by ?

You tell me, unless I can save from my wages

A provision enough to maintain me when old,
That the workhouse the only resource of my age is ;

How to save I should like very much to be told.
You say that the workhouse, by statesmen discerning,

To punish improvident people was meant;
If you '11 show how a man with the pittance I'm earning

Can be provident, gentlemen, I '11 be content.
Of my labour I'm told that dependent the pay is

On the law, as 'tis called, of supply and demand ;
If that pay is too little, then all I can say is,

There is something amiss in the law of the land.

If you cannot insure us, by wise legislation,

For an honest day's labour an honest day's hire,
Don't you think now to render us fair compensation,

That both reason and justice your honours require ?
Put the means in our pow'r, and we '11 readily hoard them,

To provide for our age, as you say we should do ,
If your law of supply and demand won't afford them,

We've a right to expect the provision from you.

We do all that we possibly can for a living ;

There are some, I believe, I can mention that don't;
Unto those that will work sure there's reason for giving,

If there's any for giving to people that won't.
To the truly deserving of succour extend it ;

And if able to scrape up a few millions more,
On a sort of asylums suppose that you spend it—

For your old agricultural destitute poor.

FOREIGN TONGUES.

The Post correspondent states that not a word of Portuguese is-
spoken at the Queen's Palace at Lisbon. The same thing is reported
of Buckingham Palace, where, it is said, if a person puts a question in
English, he is asked in German or French what he means; but we
should like to know who believes the absurdity. The same story is
told against Lodis-Philippe, for it was suggested to him a few months
back, when the Entente Cordiale was a little more cordial than it is at
present, to put up a sign over the Tuileries, and call it " The British
Hotel." And yet we know very well that His Majesty's attachment
to the English extended no farther than a sincere desire " to take them
in.'' After all, subjects care very little what languages their sovereigns
speak as long as they can depend upon their words.

A. Wonder—& Popular Tax!

A Gentleman, who signs himself "One of the Husbands of England,"
has sent in a proposal to Lord John Russell for raising a new tax,
which would have the novelty of being a great relief to the suffering
community, besides checking a growing evil. It is to apply the
Patent Mile Index to the tongues of women, and charge them so much
a mile. He calculates the loan of £8,000,000 would be paid off in less
than six months. We can see but one objection—and that is, the
enormous noise there will be, in consequence of the endless disputes of
the fare.

NOTHING AVHEN YOU'RE USED to IT.

Guizot and Normanbt have made it up. When it is recollected
they only quarrelled about a lie, we think no one who understands the
least about diplomacy can blame them for not allowing such a trifle as
that to stand between them.

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