Punch (9.1845)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

E&e ipoctrp of tfje Hail.

Now that the Railways have absorbed every other interest, it is quite
impossible that the poetry of the country can any longer hold itself aloof
from its all-pervading influence. ■ " The Soldier's Tear," or the "Sailor's
Snivel," will become obsolete and rococo. Instead of holding aloft snow-
white scarfs to flutter in the breeze, we shall have railway signals hoisted
by impassioned stokers or ardent engine-drivers, as they pass the cottage-
doors of their mistresses at eighty miles an hour, by a special train.

We beg leave to call the attention of our poets, and particularly that
of the Poet Bunn, to the new field for imagination which the Railways
! open to them. Fair girls " met in a crowd," or standing amid glittering
■ throngs, are completely used up, and nothing now remains but the
sentiment of the rail ; the great trunk-lines being exactly the sort of line
that such minds as the Poet Bunn are calculated to adorn and illustrate.

We give a specimen of what we think might be done with such a
subject as—

THE STOKER'S SIGH.

There was a fair and beauteous girl,

She lov'd a stoker brave,
And of her hair a glossy curl,

That girl that stoker gave.
He press'd one hand upon his heart,

The other to his eye ;
And knowing they were doomed to part,

That stoker heav'd a sigh.

Before the lattice open wide,

Behold that stoker stand,
He cries " Wilt be a stoker's bride,

Wilt take a stoker's hand ? "
The words had scarcely left his tongue,

Ere pealing loudly by,
The Railway starting-bell is rung,

The stoker heaves a sigh.

" Ah. dearest once I us'd to dream—"

His voice was heard no more,
The whistle gives its frantic scream,

The engine gives a roar.
The stoker hurries to the train,

They 're off! away they fly ;
He heaves the coals, for 'twould be vain

Just now to heave a sigh.

PEERS OF PEN AND INK.

Sir Robert Peel is a modest man ; all Prime Ministers are ; it is the
weakness of their station. Nevertheless, Sir Robert is an especial
victim to the official diffidence. He complains that Her Majesty has
allowed Her by Her faithful Commons only ,£1,200 a year—half-a-
handful of crumbs from the State table—for the literary and scientific
Lazaruses in their feebleness and old age : i?l,200 a year, a sum which,
no doubt, in its insignificance is conducive of much distress to the
royal mind,—and yet, Sir Robert Peel will not ask Parliament for an
additional grant. If a young Princess is to be married, that she may
enrich a pauper prince of royal German blood,—Sir Robert puts on the
face of an unabashed mendicant, and boldly asks for thousands per
annum. He asks, and has. He can speak out for a Princess Augusta of
Cambridge, but Minerva herself might wither in a garret, with the regret
of the Minister that Her Majesty had " only £1,200 a year " for every
branch of knowledge. Wherefore, then, does not Sir Robert pluck up
his courage, and ask for an additional thousand or two in the name of the
humanities ?

But literary and scientific men need not alms : they want no pensions.
What they demand, and what sooner or later they will have, is a just
recognition of their great claims on the consideration and gratitude of
government. When a man of literary genius dies—a man who has
enriched the world with immortal thoughts — with wealth imperish-
able—it is thought a mighty piece of benevolence on the part of a Minis-
ter if he bestows some fifty pounds on the dead man's family. Foolish,
superficial folks, cry " what magnanimity !" Yes ; this is deemed on
the part of a Minister a humane and graceful mode of acknowledging the
claims of genius. France, Prussia, and America, might teach us better.
They invest their literary man with state distinction : they clothe him
with office, as the noblest representative of national greatness. In Eng-
land, the literary man is a creature disowned by the State ; never per-
mitted to come within the doors of the Palace, lest, we presume, the foot-
men should catch literature as children catch measles. He is considered
by the English aristocracy as a clever kind of vagabond—a better sort of
Ramo Samee, to amuse by books, instead of knives and balls. Had
Washington Irving been born an Englishman, he had never, even as a
diner-out, seen the inside of St. James's. He is an American author, and,
therefore, is he Ambassador at Madrid. What a wide, a monstrous look
of contempt would aristocracy put on if it were proposed to send Charles
Dickens, Esq. as Ambassador to Florence ! How would the London-
derrys have stared if the late Thomas Hood had been gazetted Minister
Plenipotentiary at Washington ! Hood himself—it would have been
thought—had never written anything so droll ! But Hood dies in penury,
and it is a fine thing—a gracious act—for the English Prime Minister to
bestow fifty pounds upon those the man of genius leaves behind ! English
Ministers can only play the Maecenas over a man's coffin. Why do they
not reward him with dignified employment when alive 1

Having alluded to Hood, we may here express our delight that the
subscription set a-foot for those who were dear to him, has been nobly
contributed to by Manchester. The stout-hearted men of Birmingham-
and other places, will, of course, follow the goodly example.

THE CITY GRAND JUNCTION TURTLE AND GENERAL SOUP

COMPANY.

We have seen the prospectus of a new Company that will shortly be
started in the City, under the patronage of the Common Council. The
Company proposes to lay down pipes for supplying soup from Birch's to
Guildhall and the principal chambers and counting-houses of the me-
tropolis. The terms, which are rated very low, will be so much a quarter,
and persons will call to collect the "soup-rate" as regularly as they do
the water-rate. The only difficulty will be in deciding upon the par-
ticular soup that is to be laid on in each street; but this has been already
obviated in many thoroughfares by several houses accommodatingly
having the same taste : for instance, amongst the Aldermen the una-
nimity for turtle was found to be wonderful. Prospectuses will be issued
in a few days with maps of the city, through which this projected
line and its different branches will pass ; and shares can be obtainec"
by applying at the Terminus of the Company, the back-kitcben, Birch's,
Cornhill.

SPORTS ABOVE STAIRS.

The Liverpool Mercury says, " A cricket-match, between the Preston
and Manchester Clubs, is on the tapis." This is the first time we have
ever heard of a drawing- room being the best field for a cricket-match. We
should like amazingly to have seen this match played on the tapis. We
suppose the runs took place between the fireplace and the door, the
wickets being made of the tongs and poker at one end, and umbrellas and
walking-sticks at the other. The scouts, of course, were looking out on
the balcony to catch the ball, if it came through the window.