DOI issue:
January to June, 1848
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16546#0157
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
149
REAL FRATERNITY.
The English statues of kings and nobles might, with good reason,
seek to fraternise with the French statues who have been put out of
sight by the Revolution, to the great envy of some of our own statues,
who are most anxious to get released from the conspicuous, painful, and
humiliating positions they are at present compelled to occupy. Geokge
the Fotjkth wishes himself melted at least ten times a day, and
George the Thibh feels that his is indeed a tale of bitterness and
sorrow, if it were generally understood. The Duke of Welling-
ton, in his uglv bronze armour, feels his to be an extremely hard
case, and the Duke of Yoke would be only too glad to come
down with the dust of Pall Mall from his lofty and uncomfortable
pedestal.
A WORD WITH LOUIS BLANC.
Citizen Blanc, a word with you on the Organisation of Literary
Labour. Open your book; there Citizen; at page 222 it reads thus,
according to our English:—
" Literature has on society the right of a command. Now, what becomes of this right,
when the man of letters descends to exercise his genius as a trade—if he only writes books
to amass capital! To become subservient to the taste of the public, to flatter its
prejudices, to feed its ignorance, to compromise its errors, to dally with its worst passions;
in a word, to write everything that may be hurtful, so that it is agreeable ? Such is the
necessary condition of whomsoever exchanges his genius for money."
Thus, Citizen, it is only wise and virtuous books that are made gratis.
Literature, like love, to be really pure, must not be bought,. A man
who exercises his literary genius must prostitute it, if he sell his manu-
script to a publisher. Truly, Citizen, these are bitter conclusions. But
i let us continue.
"What," you ask, "in exchange for the gold i offer you, will you make me ashamed of
my stupidity ! Will you curb my egotism—will you disturb me in the enjoyment
of the fruit of my rapine—will you make me tremble for the future ! Your wisdom, Sir,
will cost you a little too dear. i'll none of it. Thus, thought loses its character of
teaching, and with it all moral authority. The writer who depends upon the favour of
the public loses the faculty of guiding it; he loses even the desire to do so. He is a
king who abdicates."
From this, Citizen, we must conclude that every book hitherto
written for money is a piece of flattery and corruption. Boileau was
a public mischief, and Tartvffe, for which we fear Molteke took hard
louis-tPors, a miserable time-serving comedy. In a word, every paid
author is an enemy to the true nobility of human nature—a Swiss, who
| lets out a pen instead of a pike.
" i could conceive," says Citizen Blanc, "that a law should be made to abolish, as a
trade, the condition of the man of letters; but to make a law to render this trade more
lucrative, and to encourage the manufacturers of literature, this appears to me utterly
insensate."
Thus, if Citizen Blanc hold to his opinions of 1839, we may expect
no law of international copyright from the Republic. Let M. Galignani
' rejoice; and let his Bibliotheque in the Rue Vivienne still remain the
greatest literary " fence " in Europe.
Citizen Blanc would make literature the exercise of over hours.
He would have the author learn some handicraft whereby to obtain his
daily bread; and, the daily work over, he might then sit down to his
foolscap, a pure and unsuspected teacher of the people, because teaching
them for nothing. Of course, Citizen, what applies to literature, also
applies to the arts that appeal to the higher nature of man. The
sculptor who takes money for his statues, chisels marble into vilest and
most sensual forms, to the defilement and degradation of the world.
The painter paints nothing but lust and gluttony—because he paints for
hard cash. Citizen Blanc would alter this; somehow, no doubt, after
this fashion.
Let the author work—let us say—at a paper-mill his eight or ten
hours a day. This may average him about thirty shillings a week. Self
and family frugally provided for, there will then remain money sufficient
for pens, ink, and paper: and, as for time, at least four hours of the
night for gratuitous literary composition.
The sculptor may also employ himself with some trade—qui subvienne
a ses besoins. Human vanity will never be without tombstones. There-
fore, let Michael Angelo work his ten hours in a stone-cutter's yard,
and lay out the rest of his time on Jupiteks and Junos.
When Raphael has returned from his daily work as an industrious
liouse-painter, he may then resume his palette, and at over hours pro-
ceed with the " Transfiguration."
Citizen Blanc has an earnest, and we believe an honest, soul. But
with all its earnestness, all its honesty—verily hath it not crotchets P
PUNCH'S MAXIMS MOEALISED.
25.—Evil communication! corrupt good manners.
This accounts for the occasional rudeness and want of manners shown
by the editors of newspapers, who naturally get an amount of evil com-
munications that must try the politeness, as well as the patience, of the
best bred and the best tempered man in the world.
2C.—Evil gotten evil spent.
Some people say that the crown Louis-Philippe has just made such
a bad use of, brought him ill luck in the end, because it was not quite
honestly obtained.
27.—Experience is the mother of Science.
Perhaps so ; but Science, like many other children, will often despise
the maternal counsel, and go on in error to the end.
28.—Experience teaches Jools.
Then Experience may say to every human being " You have been, or
will be, my pupil at some time of your life."
29.—Fools make feasts and wise men eat them.
This accounts for the paucity of brains that has been observed among
some of the most hospitable of the Lord Mayors of London in the
olden time. The quantity of civic foolery used formerly to require the
assistance of an official fool, but latterly the Lord Mavor has found
himself quite equal to the entire duty, which, to do him justice, is not
so heavy as it used to be.
Guizot at Brompton.
"Mr. Punch, "Paris, April 1. m
" It is here very generally reported that M. Guizot has domi-
ciled himself at Brompton. Is this really true P Or does the report
merely originate from the fact that English dramatists dwelling on that
London Parnassus, always lay hold of everything from the Erench—at
soon as out ?
" Yours, " Bittebs."
149
REAL FRATERNITY.
The English statues of kings and nobles might, with good reason,
seek to fraternise with the French statues who have been put out of
sight by the Revolution, to the great envy of some of our own statues,
who are most anxious to get released from the conspicuous, painful, and
humiliating positions they are at present compelled to occupy. Geokge
the Fotjkth wishes himself melted at least ten times a day, and
George the Thibh feels that his is indeed a tale of bitterness and
sorrow, if it were generally understood. The Duke of Welling-
ton, in his uglv bronze armour, feels his to be an extremely hard
case, and the Duke of Yoke would be only too glad to come
down with the dust of Pall Mall from his lofty and uncomfortable
pedestal.
A WORD WITH LOUIS BLANC.
Citizen Blanc, a word with you on the Organisation of Literary
Labour. Open your book; there Citizen; at page 222 it reads thus,
according to our English:—
" Literature has on society the right of a command. Now, what becomes of this right,
when the man of letters descends to exercise his genius as a trade—if he only writes books
to amass capital! To become subservient to the taste of the public, to flatter its
prejudices, to feed its ignorance, to compromise its errors, to dally with its worst passions;
in a word, to write everything that may be hurtful, so that it is agreeable ? Such is the
necessary condition of whomsoever exchanges his genius for money."
Thus, Citizen, it is only wise and virtuous books that are made gratis.
Literature, like love, to be really pure, must not be bought,. A man
who exercises his literary genius must prostitute it, if he sell his manu-
script to a publisher. Truly, Citizen, these are bitter conclusions. But
i let us continue.
"What," you ask, "in exchange for the gold i offer you, will you make me ashamed of
my stupidity ! Will you curb my egotism—will you disturb me in the enjoyment
of the fruit of my rapine—will you make me tremble for the future ! Your wisdom, Sir,
will cost you a little too dear. i'll none of it. Thus, thought loses its character of
teaching, and with it all moral authority. The writer who depends upon the favour of
the public loses the faculty of guiding it; he loses even the desire to do so. He is a
king who abdicates."
From this, Citizen, we must conclude that every book hitherto
written for money is a piece of flattery and corruption. Boileau was
a public mischief, and Tartvffe, for which we fear Molteke took hard
louis-tPors, a miserable time-serving comedy. In a word, every paid
author is an enemy to the true nobility of human nature—a Swiss, who
| lets out a pen instead of a pike.
" i could conceive," says Citizen Blanc, "that a law should be made to abolish, as a
trade, the condition of the man of letters; but to make a law to render this trade more
lucrative, and to encourage the manufacturers of literature, this appears to me utterly
insensate."
Thus, if Citizen Blanc hold to his opinions of 1839, we may expect
no law of international copyright from the Republic. Let M. Galignani
' rejoice; and let his Bibliotheque in the Rue Vivienne still remain the
greatest literary " fence " in Europe.
Citizen Blanc would make literature the exercise of over hours.
He would have the author learn some handicraft whereby to obtain his
daily bread; and, the daily work over, he might then sit down to his
foolscap, a pure and unsuspected teacher of the people, because teaching
them for nothing. Of course, Citizen, what applies to literature, also
applies to the arts that appeal to the higher nature of man. The
sculptor who takes money for his statues, chisels marble into vilest and
most sensual forms, to the defilement and degradation of the world.
The painter paints nothing but lust and gluttony—because he paints for
hard cash. Citizen Blanc would alter this; somehow, no doubt, after
this fashion.
Let the author work—let us say—at a paper-mill his eight or ten
hours a day. This may average him about thirty shillings a week. Self
and family frugally provided for, there will then remain money sufficient
for pens, ink, and paper: and, as for time, at least four hours of the
night for gratuitous literary composition.
The sculptor may also employ himself with some trade—qui subvienne
a ses besoins. Human vanity will never be without tombstones. There-
fore, let Michael Angelo work his ten hours in a stone-cutter's yard,
and lay out the rest of his time on Jupiteks and Junos.
When Raphael has returned from his daily work as an industrious
liouse-painter, he may then resume his palette, and at over hours pro-
ceed with the " Transfiguration."
Citizen Blanc has an earnest, and we believe an honest, soul. But
with all its earnestness, all its honesty—verily hath it not crotchets P
PUNCH'S MAXIMS MOEALISED.
25.—Evil communication! corrupt good manners.
This accounts for the occasional rudeness and want of manners shown
by the editors of newspapers, who naturally get an amount of evil com-
munications that must try the politeness, as well as the patience, of the
best bred and the best tempered man in the world.
2C.—Evil gotten evil spent.
Some people say that the crown Louis-Philippe has just made such
a bad use of, brought him ill luck in the end, because it was not quite
honestly obtained.
27.—Experience is the mother of Science.
Perhaps so ; but Science, like many other children, will often despise
the maternal counsel, and go on in error to the end.
28.—Experience teaches Jools.
Then Experience may say to every human being " You have been, or
will be, my pupil at some time of your life."
29.—Fools make feasts and wise men eat them.
This accounts for the paucity of brains that has been observed among
some of the most hospitable of the Lord Mayors of London in the
olden time. The quantity of civic foolery used formerly to require the
assistance of an official fool, but latterly the Lord Mavor has found
himself quite equal to the entire duty, which, to do him justice, is not
so heavy as it used to be.
Guizot at Brompton.
"Mr. Punch, "Paris, April 1. m
" It is here very generally reported that M. Guizot has domi-
ciled himself at Brompton. Is this really true P Or does the report
merely originate from the fact that English dramatists dwelling on that
London Parnassus, always lay hold of everything from the Erench—at
soon as out ?
" Yours, " Bittebs."