DOI issue:
July to December, 1849
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16604#0045
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 33
THE LONDON CORRESPONDENT.
(Written for " The Talking Potato.")
y dear Murphy,—The impetus
of improved locomotion has
awakened a corresponding de-
sire in the breasts of the reading
public of the Irish and provin-
cial press to have their news
hot and hot from London—hot
and buttered with their morn-
ing rolls. The " London Corre-
spondent," my dear Murphy,
is a new potentate—a novel
power—in the kingdom of the
Press. It is for him to whip off
the cream of all things, and
churn it into little pats, im-
Hl W pressing thereon now a goose
and now a lion—now a rose
and now a thistle. He must, however, be always original—always
sparkling. Truth is very well in her way ; but in our advanced state
of civilisation, not presentable until properly drest. Neither, in our
day, must Truth eschew the rouge-pot and ornaments of the purest
paste. You will see, my honoured Murphy, that I fully understand
the object of my mission to this great city—that I am all over alive to
the weight and value of your parting words : you may forget them ; I
never can. " One injunction, my dear O'Swiss, you must write upon
your heart: must wear it as a phylactery about your brows : it is this—
Be spicy ! Mere news is common enough. What we want of you as a
correspondent is rather an exercise of the imagination, than of the
memory. Unfavoured truths are insipid. We don't want to feed the
reader upon dull, daily household bread, but on gingerbread-nuts.
Therefore, and in a word, be spicy, or die."
These, my venerated Murphy, were your last verbal instructions_ as
we stood upon the deck of the Shamrock ; and with them still singing
in my ears and playing upon my heartstrings, I descended to the cabin.
Having calmed myself with some cold sirloin and a trifle of punch, I
thought I felt myself equal to contemplate the written orders that—
with the letter for the weekly pecunia to your London agent—your
parting shake consigned to my hand. I now write them from memory
—from memory, most excellent Murphy.
"I. To dine, at least once a wreek, with the Prime Minister or
President of the Council—or both.
" II. To be presented at Court.
" III. To cultivate an acquaintance with the Duke op Wellington,
and toj)ump P. M. upon all occasions.
"IV. To make a weekly call at the Foreign Office, and to worm
Lord Palmerston. N. B. INever to be absent from any of her
Ladyship's soirees.
"V. To secure the loan of the Queen's Box at the Opera once a
fortnight; and t© have it duly printed in the Morning Post, that 'Her
Majesty's Box was occupied by—O'Swiss, Esq., and a distinguished
party of his private friends.'
" VI. To attend weddings in very high life ; and—as a friend of the
family—when permitted—to give away the bride.
" VII. To be civil—not familiar—with the Bench of Bishops.
" VIII. To give a dinner once a year to the Lord Mayor and Cor-
poration of London at the Clarendon.
" DL To cut the Protectionists as a body; but, as a brother of the
quill, to extend the little finger of friendship to Benjamin Disraeli.
"X. To belong to all the Clubs.
"XL To disregard any one or all of the foregoing, when found
practically impossible.
" XII. On all and every occasion to consider it a solemn duty to—
be spicy."
These, Sir, were your written instructions ; and I know the wisdom
enshrined in them; for, once achieved, it makes the paragon of that
novel and important creature, a London Correspondent. Well, Sir, I
have endeavoured to comply with each and all of your twelve injunc-
tions : and if I have failed in any one of them, depend upon it, estimable
Mr. Murphy, the readers of The Talking Potato shall never discover
it. Sir, in this life, the next best quality to successful courage is
indomitable assurance. A man may fail to_ dine with the Prime
Minister—to be presented at Court—to earwig the Duke of Wel-
lington ; he may fail in one or all of these proud distinctions of life;
but he must be an ass, indeed, if—with a tongue in his head or a pen
in his hand—he permits an envious world to find the failure out. And
now, Sir, to enter upon my duties—now to give you in the very best man-
ner of a London Correspondent who is ubiquitous and all-knowing—(last
week a London Correspondent was found under the table at Osborne
House during the holding of a Privy Council;—the gallant fellow is
bow in the Tower)—to give you the last and most authentic intelli-
gence of all matters bearing upon or about the visit of Queen
Victoria to the brightest gem in her crown, the Island Emerald.
{From our London Correspondent."}
Axl England threatens to decanter itself into Leland on the occasion
of Her Majesty's visit. My friend Lord Russell— (by the way he
has a very pretty Lodge in Richmond Park, and it is pleasant 1 o see
the Premier of England and his little ones feeding the fallow-deer with
almond-cakes at early dawn)—my friend John, in confidence, assures
me that the Queen will take water at Kew-bridge, and not at Osborne,
as recklessly asserted by the ignorant portion of the press. A new
barge will be launched upon the occasion, to be rowed by the Lords of
the Admiralty, and steered—an especial favour granted at his own re-
quest—by Lord Brougham. The royal yacht will sail from Woolwich,
and will not be commanded—as was believed—by Lord John Russell.
The state visit of Her Majesty to Ireland is reserved for next year.
On the present occasion she will be merely attended by the Household
Guards (transports are already provided) and Prince Albert's Own.
It has been very generally reported that the Lumber Troop would be
permitted to follow the Queen, and to share the duty with the House-
hold regiments. On Thursday last over the burgundy, I just touched
upon the report to the Duke ; when, with his characteristic acuteness,
the Duke observed—" Gammon; pass the wine." This your readers
may depend upon. (By the way, what a felicitous epithet—it was an
Irishman's—" the Iron Duke !" The bewitched maiden uttered pearls
and diamonds : F. M. the Duke invariably speaks tenpenny nails !)
Her Majesty's visit—(I have the best proofs from the royal milliner)
—will be homely and unpretending. She will leave the crown and
sceptre in the Tower, and land in a plain straw bonnet with a green
parasol. On landing at _ Cork, Her Majesty—(I have it from her
Master of the Horse)—will at once enter into the nationality of her
Irish subjects. She will not make the round of the city in a carriage,
but will, with the Prince oe Wales and Albert, occupy one side of a
car, duly balanced on the other by Maids of Honour. Having visited
Blarney, and secured a piece of the stone to be set among the brightest
jewels of her diadem, she will sleep on board the yacht; the Mayor
and Corporation of Cork, as a guard of honour, keeping the middle
watch. All Her Majesty's dress will be of Irish manufacture;
Irish poplin; bonnet of Irish straw, with artificial blossoms of the
national fruit. I should observe—(1 have this from Shell of the Mint)
—that the Queen will embark amidst a shower of golden sovereigns.
Her Majesty's entry into Dublin will be alike simple and maternal.
(There has been arumour of a great tea-party with a dance in the evening
at Conciliation Hall: but don't believe it. The Duchess oe S-
assures me that the idea is abandoned.) The Queen, as at Cork,
will make the round of the city, preceded by the Lord Mayor, who
will have been ennobled, immediately after breakfast, as the Earl oe
Hullabaloo, and the Aldermen created baronets. She will then, on
her way to Viceregal Lodge (Lord Clarendon, in a tunic of green
silk taffetry, is to ride a milk-white horse, illustrative of his pure inten-
tions), stop awhile on the route, and at the river's brink create little
Prince Alfred the Duke oe Lleeey. This ceremonial will be per-
formed by the royal child quaffing a goblet full of the water, carefully
distilled for the occasion. Without further delay the Queen will then
proceed to the Lodge, where she will be met at the door by the
Countess oe Clarendon with a dish of buttermilk and potatoes.
Upon this the Queen will lunch; and afterwards, in a thimble-full of
regal punch, drink Prosperity to Leland. Then, with as little ceremony
as she arrived, Her Majesty will depart, and on her return proceed to
the Bank; where—(the Chancellor oe the Exchequer has passed
me his word for this)—;where she will lodge twenty pounds to the
account of every single inhabitant of Ireland, and thirty to the married,
with an extra two pounds a-head for children. This fact, you will confess,
is gratifying : but certainly not a whit more than was generally expected.
On leaving the Bank, Her Majesty will visit Trinity College, when
herself, Prince Albert, and all the children, will receive diplomas as
Doctors of Civil Lish Law; Lord Russell, as Prime Minister, being
honoured with the dignity of M.A. and S.L.O.W.
The Queen will then return to crown her visit with an act of most
significant and most touching goodness. The statue of William the
Third will cease to exist; that is, an entirely new face will be given
to the old bronze mischief-maker. The head of the Orangeman
(every preparation has been made to perform the process in a few
minutes) will be struck off, and in its place a bronze head of His
Royal Highness Prince Albert, bearing his Hussar cap, _ will be
soldered on; the band playing " And doth not a meeting like this make
amends ?" with the bells ringing and the artillery roaring.
At night there will be a glorious illumination throughout the city.
Not a garret window that will not have an eye of fire twinkling in it.
A magnificent illumination in which—forgive my ardour, Sir—in which,
let us hope, every atom of ill-feeling between the two countries may be
burnt to snuff. Luckily I have no more to say, for I'm interrupted.
The Duke has driven up with his carpet-bag, and insists upon me going
down for a day or two to Waimer.
Yours, Phelim O'Swiss.
Vol. 17.
2
THE LONDON CORRESPONDENT.
(Written for " The Talking Potato.")
y dear Murphy,—The impetus
of improved locomotion has
awakened a corresponding de-
sire in the breasts of the reading
public of the Irish and provin-
cial press to have their news
hot and hot from London—hot
and buttered with their morn-
ing rolls. The " London Corre-
spondent," my dear Murphy,
is a new potentate—a novel
power—in the kingdom of the
Press. It is for him to whip off
the cream of all things, and
churn it into little pats, im-
Hl W pressing thereon now a goose
and now a lion—now a rose
and now a thistle. He must, however, be always original—always
sparkling. Truth is very well in her way ; but in our advanced state
of civilisation, not presentable until properly drest. Neither, in our
day, must Truth eschew the rouge-pot and ornaments of the purest
paste. You will see, my honoured Murphy, that I fully understand
the object of my mission to this great city—that I am all over alive to
the weight and value of your parting words : you may forget them ; I
never can. " One injunction, my dear O'Swiss, you must write upon
your heart: must wear it as a phylactery about your brows : it is this—
Be spicy ! Mere news is common enough. What we want of you as a
correspondent is rather an exercise of the imagination, than of the
memory. Unfavoured truths are insipid. We don't want to feed the
reader upon dull, daily household bread, but on gingerbread-nuts.
Therefore, and in a word, be spicy, or die."
These, my venerated Murphy, were your last verbal instructions_ as
we stood upon the deck of the Shamrock ; and with them still singing
in my ears and playing upon my heartstrings, I descended to the cabin.
Having calmed myself with some cold sirloin and a trifle of punch, I
thought I felt myself equal to contemplate the written orders that—
with the letter for the weekly pecunia to your London agent—your
parting shake consigned to my hand. I now write them from memory
—from memory, most excellent Murphy.
"I. To dine, at least once a wreek, with the Prime Minister or
President of the Council—or both.
" II. To be presented at Court.
" III. To cultivate an acquaintance with the Duke op Wellington,
and toj)ump P. M. upon all occasions.
"IV. To make a weekly call at the Foreign Office, and to worm
Lord Palmerston. N. B. INever to be absent from any of her
Ladyship's soirees.
"V. To secure the loan of the Queen's Box at the Opera once a
fortnight; and t© have it duly printed in the Morning Post, that 'Her
Majesty's Box was occupied by—O'Swiss, Esq., and a distinguished
party of his private friends.'
" VI. To attend weddings in very high life ; and—as a friend of the
family—when permitted—to give away the bride.
" VII. To be civil—not familiar—with the Bench of Bishops.
" VIII. To give a dinner once a year to the Lord Mayor and Cor-
poration of London at the Clarendon.
" DL To cut the Protectionists as a body; but, as a brother of the
quill, to extend the little finger of friendship to Benjamin Disraeli.
"X. To belong to all the Clubs.
"XL To disregard any one or all of the foregoing, when found
practically impossible.
" XII. On all and every occasion to consider it a solemn duty to—
be spicy."
These, Sir, were your written instructions ; and I know the wisdom
enshrined in them; for, once achieved, it makes the paragon of that
novel and important creature, a London Correspondent. Well, Sir, I
have endeavoured to comply with each and all of your twelve injunc-
tions : and if I have failed in any one of them, depend upon it, estimable
Mr. Murphy, the readers of The Talking Potato shall never discover
it. Sir, in this life, the next best quality to successful courage is
indomitable assurance. A man may fail to_ dine with the Prime
Minister—to be presented at Court—to earwig the Duke of Wel-
lington ; he may fail in one or all of these proud distinctions of life;
but he must be an ass, indeed, if—with a tongue in his head or a pen
in his hand—he permits an envious world to find the failure out. And
now, Sir, to enter upon my duties—now to give you in the very best man-
ner of a London Correspondent who is ubiquitous and all-knowing—(last
week a London Correspondent was found under the table at Osborne
House during the holding of a Privy Council;—the gallant fellow is
bow in the Tower)—to give you the last and most authentic intelli-
gence of all matters bearing upon or about the visit of Queen
Victoria to the brightest gem in her crown, the Island Emerald.
{From our London Correspondent."}
Axl England threatens to decanter itself into Leland on the occasion
of Her Majesty's visit. My friend Lord Russell— (by the way he
has a very pretty Lodge in Richmond Park, and it is pleasant 1 o see
the Premier of England and his little ones feeding the fallow-deer with
almond-cakes at early dawn)—my friend John, in confidence, assures
me that the Queen will take water at Kew-bridge, and not at Osborne,
as recklessly asserted by the ignorant portion of the press. A new
barge will be launched upon the occasion, to be rowed by the Lords of
the Admiralty, and steered—an especial favour granted at his own re-
quest—by Lord Brougham. The royal yacht will sail from Woolwich,
and will not be commanded—as was believed—by Lord John Russell.
The state visit of Her Majesty to Ireland is reserved for next year.
On the present occasion she will be merely attended by the Household
Guards (transports are already provided) and Prince Albert's Own.
It has been very generally reported that the Lumber Troop would be
permitted to follow the Queen, and to share the duty with the House-
hold regiments. On Thursday last over the burgundy, I just touched
upon the report to the Duke ; when, with his characteristic acuteness,
the Duke observed—" Gammon; pass the wine." This your readers
may depend upon. (By the way, what a felicitous epithet—it was an
Irishman's—" the Iron Duke !" The bewitched maiden uttered pearls
and diamonds : F. M. the Duke invariably speaks tenpenny nails !)
Her Majesty's visit—(I have the best proofs from the royal milliner)
—will be homely and unpretending. She will leave the crown and
sceptre in the Tower, and land in a plain straw bonnet with a green
parasol. On landing at _ Cork, Her Majesty—(I have it from her
Master of the Horse)—will at once enter into the nationality of her
Irish subjects. She will not make the round of the city in a carriage,
but will, with the Prince oe Wales and Albert, occupy one side of a
car, duly balanced on the other by Maids of Honour. Having visited
Blarney, and secured a piece of the stone to be set among the brightest
jewels of her diadem, she will sleep on board the yacht; the Mayor
and Corporation of Cork, as a guard of honour, keeping the middle
watch. All Her Majesty's dress will be of Irish manufacture;
Irish poplin; bonnet of Irish straw, with artificial blossoms of the
national fruit. I should observe—(1 have this from Shell of the Mint)
—that the Queen will embark amidst a shower of golden sovereigns.
Her Majesty's entry into Dublin will be alike simple and maternal.
(There has been arumour of a great tea-party with a dance in the evening
at Conciliation Hall: but don't believe it. The Duchess oe S-
assures me that the idea is abandoned.) The Queen, as at Cork,
will make the round of the city, preceded by the Lord Mayor, who
will have been ennobled, immediately after breakfast, as the Earl oe
Hullabaloo, and the Aldermen created baronets. She will then, on
her way to Viceregal Lodge (Lord Clarendon, in a tunic of green
silk taffetry, is to ride a milk-white horse, illustrative of his pure inten-
tions), stop awhile on the route, and at the river's brink create little
Prince Alfred the Duke oe Lleeey. This ceremonial will be per-
formed by the royal child quaffing a goblet full of the water, carefully
distilled for the occasion. Without further delay the Queen will then
proceed to the Lodge, where she will be met at the door by the
Countess oe Clarendon with a dish of buttermilk and potatoes.
Upon this the Queen will lunch; and afterwards, in a thimble-full of
regal punch, drink Prosperity to Leland. Then, with as little ceremony
as she arrived, Her Majesty will depart, and on her return proceed to
the Bank; where—(the Chancellor oe the Exchequer has passed
me his word for this)—;where she will lodge twenty pounds to the
account of every single inhabitant of Ireland, and thirty to the married,
with an extra two pounds a-head for children. This fact, you will confess,
is gratifying : but certainly not a whit more than was generally expected.
On leaving the Bank, Her Majesty will visit Trinity College, when
herself, Prince Albert, and all the children, will receive diplomas as
Doctors of Civil Lish Law; Lord Russell, as Prime Minister, being
honoured with the dignity of M.A. and S.L.O.W.
The Queen will then return to crown her visit with an act of most
significant and most touching goodness. The statue of William the
Third will cease to exist; that is, an entirely new face will be given
to the old bronze mischief-maker. The head of the Orangeman
(every preparation has been made to perform the process in a few
minutes) will be struck off, and in its place a bronze head of His
Royal Highness Prince Albert, bearing his Hussar cap, _ will be
soldered on; the band playing " And doth not a meeting like this make
amends ?" with the bells ringing and the artillery roaring.
At night there will be a glorious illumination throughout the city.
Not a garret window that will not have an eye of fire twinkling in it.
A magnificent illumination in which—forgive my ardour, Sir—in which,
let us hope, every atom of ill-feeling between the two countries may be
burnt to snuff. Luckily I have no more to say, for I'm interrupted.
The Duke has driven up with his carpet-bag, and insists upon me going
down for a day or two to Waimer.
Yours, Phelim O'Swiss.
Vol. 17.
2