DOI issue:
July to December, 1844
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16520#0200
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 193
OPENING OF THE EXCHANGE —THE MAGNAY MANIFESTO.
" Jove in his chair,
Of the sky Lord Mayor.'"—Midas.
F it be true—and desolate, indeed, is the
sceptic who doubts the heart-delighting
axiom—that every man, no matter how
low and poor in worldly estate, has,
nevertheless, a stake in this our merry
England, it is by consequence another
truth, that there is no artificer so
humble, no labourer so mean, no man
whose sole wealth is in his sinews, to
o
significant value—a most pleasing inte
rest. True it is, lie cannot come " smug
upon the mart ; " he can make no lucky
brief moments revel in the delusion. Yes; the life guards were his—
the chamberlain—every officer of state—the cream-coloured horses,
the royal carriage,—everything that made up the type of England's
power and greatness, were, for one intoxicating moment, a part of
his own importance as an Englishman ; and even, forgetful of the
empty cupboard at home, he would huzza in the very fulness of his
ideal possession.
But no ; such enthusiasm—such fond delusion—was not to be
permitted by the Lord Mayor. Magnay "shook his ambrosial curls,
whom England's Exchange has not a '■ and gave the nod," and the line of procession was not to be defiled
in the city. The pavement was to be held sacred from poor men's
shoes. And the Lord Mayor doubtless blessed himself for his wisdom.
Why should the pavement be thronged ? Were there not seats " to
bargains there; he cannot every day ; be let" in shop fronts—even at attic windows? Did not hundreds
shake hands with greeting Fortune, re
turning home a cosier and a richer
man. No ; the Exchange is for the
merchant prince : it is the palace of
trade reared for its golden potentates
—a Temple of Commerce wherein her
magnificos do profitable sacrifice. Yet
what are princes without subjects ?
" Alone, alone;
Prison'd in ermine and a golden chair."
Wliat your merchant, but the lucky representative of labour—what
all bargains but, in truth, the sweat of thousands turned to the
enriching use of two or three ? Look at that Croesus of the ledger,
whose simple yea passes good for half a million. What, in the very
majesty of money, does he sell but the toil of his vassals ? What is
he, if not the chapman and dealer in human energies ? Therefore,
most true it is that the meanest labourer has some interest in
England's Exchange. Hence, Monday was a day of rightful rejoicing
to the veriest drudge of trade. And yet—how it happened we know
of householders offer hospitality—for a consideration ? Why, we pay
our hard cash to look even at playhouse royalty, and shall the mob
stare at a real anointed Queen gratis ? Forbid it, loyalty—forbid it,
true respectability !
Seats ! Why, churchyard clay was let for temporary building.
There, above the consecrated earth, there—where
" The rude shopkeepers of the parish sleep," —
were built up accommodation for hundreds ; and there did dear,
sight-seeing Woman, gaily, lightly clad, sit for patient hours, smiling
though shivering, and all forgetful of the coffins under foot—all nobly
heedless of the colds and damps that might perchance, in some few
weeks, send her to slumber with the dead below.
Now, if really respectable people—that is, if people with money -
will suffer and tempt all this and more, though " that is not much,"
will brave the contemptuous pity of the cynic for the love of such a
sight as that of Monday, ought it for a moment to be thought of
that the labouring poor should be permitted to have even the most
fitful glance for nothing? Why, it is a shameful slight—a gross
affront to those who can pay for seats, only to imagine it. No ; to
not—yet might the holiday have been poorly kept by those to whom make the poor uncomfortable, is often only a proper homage to the
holidays are few. Such vulgar folks—whatever might be their snug and well-to-do.
expectations—were significantly rebuked by London's Mayor. Yes
Lord Magnay, in one of those pithy edicts which high place and
wealth delight to publish, commanded Labour to keep quiet at home,
lest, we presume, his coarse looks should spoil the triumph. Listen
to the big voice of Guildhall :—
" That no person be allowed to pass or remain in the Poultry, Mansion-house Street,
Cornhill, Bartholomew Lane, or Threarincedle Street, after / o'clock, except inhabitants
and others froing to the houses in those streets, who will be permitted to pass for
that purpose until 9 o'clock, after which time nu person whatever will be admitted into
those streets."
Happy, privileged people, who had houses or friends " in those
streets." Otherwise, they were to be shut out from the Eden " after
7 o'clock ;" whilst even the few elect householders might not budge
either out or in after nine. Great is the voice of Mayors ! Yet
have we—O Magnay !—a shrewd suspicion that you cannot wield
your mace thus despotically. It is our belief, that, for all your civic
regality, Lord Denman would, in the Court of Queen's Bench,
And the Royal Exchange was opened. The Queen was feasted
in all queenly glory. The sons of Commerce—that is, the elder
sons—did all that in their pockets lay to honour and be honoured.
Her Majesty looked around her, and saw hundreds of men with the
revenues of princes, and all paid by trade. She saw, as we havo
said, the elder sons of Commerce in the triumph, and Hush, and ful-
ness of their wealth. There they were, in that magnificent temple
reared to their greatness. What a glorious gathering ! how full and
complete the satisfaction ! Nothing—no tittle—was wanting to the
national triumph.
Yes—we think—one thing. It may be thought sullen, carping in
us to suggest a fault. We cannot help it. Even though Laurie
deem us cynical, it shall out. The elder sons of Commerce ! And
where, we ask, were the younger ones ; they, the brethren doomed,
with treble toil, to a starveling patrimony ? Why was there not a
construe the law somewhat to your confusion. A man not permitted j deputation—a chosen few, just one small table full—from the sons
to quit or enter his own house after nine o'clock ! What a stab with of labour—yea, and from the daughters too ? Some score or so of the
the city dagger at Magna Charta ! Doesnotthe ghost of King John, toilsome hands, without whom England's Royal Exchange would bo
like Unci.e Toby, draw a long breath, then whistle—IAttibtdet
We doubt not thousands hugged themselves in the fond, the loyal
thought, that Monday would be to them a day of jubilee. True, they
had neither houses nor householder acquaintance in the line of pro-
cession ; but then there was their ancient right of way—there was
their allowed property in the broad pavement—they at least pos-
sessed, as it has been truly called, that triumph of democracy. There
they could stand and gaze to their hearts' content, and look at even
the great Lord Mayor, burly with the thoughts of baronetcy—at those
merchant princes on horseback—the solemn aldermen—at the sage
ones of the common council, in their gowns of mazarine. And in
good time, being almost sated with feeding on these civic glories, they
might at length behold the crowning wonder in the royal carriage and
its royal burthen. Then would the poorest Englishman, in a loyal gush
of heart, feel that he had a stake in the country. However imperti-
nent it might be in his poverty to think so, still he m ould for some
of no more account than a Temple of the Winds ? Surely it could
not have marred the glory of the picture, but rather —properly
disposed—have blended, an harmonious whole, to have had a few—
just a few—of those whose sweat is, after all, the only gold of your
prince merchant. It would have been pleasing to see this ; to mark
the touching acknowledgment of plethoric wealth to toiling poverty.
It was, doubtless, a goodly sight to the Queen to behold merchants,
each the owner of a navy. Would her eye have frowned had she
also seen—as a representative of his class—one drudging ship-porter,
only one, with his equals in labour, at the lowest table ? We think
such a group would have added finish to the picture ; but the com-
mittee had, doubtless, better judgment. Yet, would such a homely
party have had a use ; for like skeletons at an Egyptian revel, it might
have mutely preached to merchant princes one common humanity.
However, at the opening of the next New Exchange—yes, in the
year 2814—all this may perhaps be altered. Q
\ ol. 7.
7
OPENING OF THE EXCHANGE —THE MAGNAY MANIFESTO.
" Jove in his chair,
Of the sky Lord Mayor.'"—Midas.
F it be true—and desolate, indeed, is the
sceptic who doubts the heart-delighting
axiom—that every man, no matter how
low and poor in worldly estate, has,
nevertheless, a stake in this our merry
England, it is by consequence another
truth, that there is no artificer so
humble, no labourer so mean, no man
whose sole wealth is in his sinews, to
o
significant value—a most pleasing inte
rest. True it is, lie cannot come " smug
upon the mart ; " he can make no lucky
brief moments revel in the delusion. Yes; the life guards were his—
the chamberlain—every officer of state—the cream-coloured horses,
the royal carriage,—everything that made up the type of England's
power and greatness, were, for one intoxicating moment, a part of
his own importance as an Englishman ; and even, forgetful of the
empty cupboard at home, he would huzza in the very fulness of his
ideal possession.
But no ; such enthusiasm—such fond delusion—was not to be
permitted by the Lord Mayor. Magnay "shook his ambrosial curls,
whom England's Exchange has not a '■ and gave the nod," and the line of procession was not to be defiled
in the city. The pavement was to be held sacred from poor men's
shoes. And the Lord Mayor doubtless blessed himself for his wisdom.
Why should the pavement be thronged ? Were there not seats " to
bargains there; he cannot every day ; be let" in shop fronts—even at attic windows? Did not hundreds
shake hands with greeting Fortune, re
turning home a cosier and a richer
man. No ; the Exchange is for the
merchant prince : it is the palace of
trade reared for its golden potentates
—a Temple of Commerce wherein her
magnificos do profitable sacrifice. Yet
what are princes without subjects ?
" Alone, alone;
Prison'd in ermine and a golden chair."
Wliat your merchant, but the lucky representative of labour—what
all bargains but, in truth, the sweat of thousands turned to the
enriching use of two or three ? Look at that Croesus of the ledger,
whose simple yea passes good for half a million. What, in the very
majesty of money, does he sell but the toil of his vassals ? What is
he, if not the chapman and dealer in human energies ? Therefore,
most true it is that the meanest labourer has some interest in
England's Exchange. Hence, Monday was a day of rightful rejoicing
to the veriest drudge of trade. And yet—how it happened we know
of householders offer hospitality—for a consideration ? Why, we pay
our hard cash to look even at playhouse royalty, and shall the mob
stare at a real anointed Queen gratis ? Forbid it, loyalty—forbid it,
true respectability !
Seats ! Why, churchyard clay was let for temporary building.
There, above the consecrated earth, there—where
" The rude shopkeepers of the parish sleep," —
were built up accommodation for hundreds ; and there did dear,
sight-seeing Woman, gaily, lightly clad, sit for patient hours, smiling
though shivering, and all forgetful of the coffins under foot—all nobly
heedless of the colds and damps that might perchance, in some few
weeks, send her to slumber with the dead below.
Now, if really respectable people—that is, if people with money -
will suffer and tempt all this and more, though " that is not much,"
will brave the contemptuous pity of the cynic for the love of such a
sight as that of Monday, ought it for a moment to be thought of
that the labouring poor should be permitted to have even the most
fitful glance for nothing? Why, it is a shameful slight—a gross
affront to those who can pay for seats, only to imagine it. No ; to
not—yet might the holiday have been poorly kept by those to whom make the poor uncomfortable, is often only a proper homage to the
holidays are few. Such vulgar folks—whatever might be their snug and well-to-do.
expectations—were significantly rebuked by London's Mayor. Yes
Lord Magnay, in one of those pithy edicts which high place and
wealth delight to publish, commanded Labour to keep quiet at home,
lest, we presume, his coarse looks should spoil the triumph. Listen
to the big voice of Guildhall :—
" That no person be allowed to pass or remain in the Poultry, Mansion-house Street,
Cornhill, Bartholomew Lane, or Threarincedle Street, after / o'clock, except inhabitants
and others froing to the houses in those streets, who will be permitted to pass for
that purpose until 9 o'clock, after which time nu person whatever will be admitted into
those streets."
Happy, privileged people, who had houses or friends " in those
streets." Otherwise, they were to be shut out from the Eden " after
7 o'clock ;" whilst even the few elect householders might not budge
either out or in after nine. Great is the voice of Mayors ! Yet
have we—O Magnay !—a shrewd suspicion that you cannot wield
your mace thus despotically. It is our belief, that, for all your civic
regality, Lord Denman would, in the Court of Queen's Bench,
And the Royal Exchange was opened. The Queen was feasted
in all queenly glory. The sons of Commerce—that is, the elder
sons—did all that in their pockets lay to honour and be honoured.
Her Majesty looked around her, and saw hundreds of men with the
revenues of princes, and all paid by trade. She saw, as we havo
said, the elder sons of Commerce in the triumph, and Hush, and ful-
ness of their wealth. There they were, in that magnificent temple
reared to their greatness. What a glorious gathering ! how full and
complete the satisfaction ! Nothing—no tittle—was wanting to the
national triumph.
Yes—we think—one thing. It may be thought sullen, carping in
us to suggest a fault. We cannot help it. Even though Laurie
deem us cynical, it shall out. The elder sons of Commerce ! And
where, we ask, were the younger ones ; they, the brethren doomed,
with treble toil, to a starveling patrimony ? Why was there not a
construe the law somewhat to your confusion. A man not permitted j deputation—a chosen few, just one small table full—from the sons
to quit or enter his own house after nine o'clock ! What a stab with of labour—yea, and from the daughters too ? Some score or so of the
the city dagger at Magna Charta ! Doesnotthe ghost of King John, toilsome hands, without whom England's Royal Exchange would bo
like Unci.e Toby, draw a long breath, then whistle—IAttibtdet
We doubt not thousands hugged themselves in the fond, the loyal
thought, that Monday would be to them a day of jubilee. True, they
had neither houses nor householder acquaintance in the line of pro-
cession ; but then there was their ancient right of way—there was
their allowed property in the broad pavement—they at least pos-
sessed, as it has been truly called, that triumph of democracy. There
they could stand and gaze to their hearts' content, and look at even
the great Lord Mayor, burly with the thoughts of baronetcy—at those
merchant princes on horseback—the solemn aldermen—at the sage
ones of the common council, in their gowns of mazarine. And in
good time, being almost sated with feeding on these civic glories, they
might at length behold the crowning wonder in the royal carriage and
its royal burthen. Then would the poorest Englishman, in a loyal gush
of heart, feel that he had a stake in the country. However imperti-
nent it might be in his poverty to think so, still he m ould for some
of no more account than a Temple of the Winds ? Surely it could
not have marred the glory of the picture, but rather —properly
disposed—have blended, an harmonious whole, to have had a few—
just a few—of those whose sweat is, after all, the only gold of your
prince merchant. It would have been pleasing to see this ; to mark
the touching acknowledgment of plethoric wealth to toiling poverty.
It was, doubtless, a goodly sight to the Queen to behold merchants,
each the owner of a navy. Would her eye have frowned had she
also seen—as a representative of his class—one drudging ship-porter,
only one, with his equals in labour, at the lowest table ? We think
such a group would have added finish to the picture ; but the com-
mittee had, doubtless, better judgment. Yet, would such a homely
party have had a use ; for like skeletons at an Egyptian revel, it might
have mutely preached to merchant princes one common humanity.
However, at the opening of the next New Exchange—yes, in the
year 2814—all this may perhaps be altered. Q
\ ol. 7.
7