DOI issue:
July to December, 1849
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16604#0257
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
245
PUNCH TO THE FRENCH PRESIDENT.
MONS. le PRESIDENT,
I have to acknowledge an act of enlightened courtesy on your
part, towards my illustrious fellow-countryman, Me, Robert Stephen-
son, engineer, who, says your Moniteur, "has been named a Knight of
the Order of the Legion of Honour." Besides the courtesy, there is a
delicate touch of satire in the act—though, I fear, too delicate to be
felt by the ruling powers of perfidious Albion. We don't honour
Literature, Science, or anything of that sort. We now and then
acknowledee the existence of prodigious talent, when we happen to
want it. We bow down and worship an Irou Duke, but we pay no
distinction to_ an Iron Genius. The battle of Waterloo—the fact is
now so historical, that you will pardon my allusion to it—was a splendid
affair, no doubt; but, to my poor thinking, of much less account to the
interests of mankind, than the tubular bridge across the Menai Strait.
That is an iron victory of a somewhat nobler kind. However, nothing
like gunpowder to make a reputation. Iron, founded into cannon,
makes Dukes : iron, worked with the most marvellous skill, that even
Homeric Vtjlcan must applaud and marvel at, calls for no distinction
at the hands of John Bull. He just nods approval, and there an end.
It must be confessed you do these things better in France.
A few days ago, we paid off a couple of ships' crews returned from
the North Pole, making no more account of the gallant hardihood, the
indomitable courage of the noble fellows—of courage exercised in the
holiest cause, than if they had been so many stokers of the Daisy
and the Moonlight, plying between London Bridge and Gravesend.
I can imagine other treatment for such heroes in Prance. Why, Sir,
they would have received a national acknowledgment. They would
have been banquetted at the Hotel de Ville, or at the Invalides. All
Prance, in the person of the Minister of Marine, would have thanked
the tars ; sending them home with their hearts throbbing with a new
love towards their country. We do nothing of the sort. No: we
"accommodate"—so say the newspapers—"the brave fellows at the
pay-table." We throw down their wages, and there an end. We
discharge them as we would discharge a waterman, who takes us from
Battersea to Westminster.
And is this fault only the error of our Government ? Certainly not.
Our journalists are tainted to rankness with it. They want mutual
respect—mutual advocacy of the dignity of their calling. They spatter
ink at one another, whilst they vainly endeavour to cover with many
coats of whirewash—though the black will come through—even an Old.
Bailey Barrister—(why is there not a Brazen Lectureship for the reward
of living brass as well as the Golden ?) to the disadvantage of an honour-
able fellow-labourer. The hireling of the Old Bailey is pure as a "rose-
lipped cherub:" the brother journalist is a knave who eats the bread
of lies.
Peeling and lamen'ing this miserable want of public recognition of
the claims of genius—lamen'ing that those whose proper function it is
to teach and vindicate the dignity of intellect, are too prone to ignore
its noblest, dues,—I learned with the greatest satisfaction that, with a
delicacy honourable to yourself, and satiric of us, you have distinguished
that great man—that wonderful conqueror of the impossible—Robert
Stephenson. His iron triumph will live when the triumphs of round
shot shall have ended.
However, Paris is now brought within nine hours of London, and we
may by-and-by learn better. In the meantime, M. le President,
allow me sincerely to thank you, even for the Legion of Honour!
Receive the assurance of my best consideration,
P. S. Carew has just finished his bas-reliefs _ for the Nelson Pillar.
Can you send Mm anything ? Depend upon it, he will get nothing
from us.
THE LAP OP LUXURY.
Luxury is generally supposed to have a very comfortable, as well as
a very capacious lap, and, like an omnibus, there seems to be always
room for one more, as if the taking up and setting down were so frequent
as to admit of a place being always rrady for a new occupant. We are
afraid, however, that Luxury has not been a careful nurse lately, for
several have tumbled out of her lap who had long been accustomed to
lie in it.
The Railway Mania caused many a lapsus from this desirable lap, and
the fortunes are numerous which have become so de-lap-idated, that
their former owners have been pitched completely out of the lap they
have been accustomed to. Por the wound inflicted by a downfall from
such laps as these, the lapse of time furnishes the only remedy.
A Pig's Whisper
(Overheard at the SmUhfieU Cattle Show).
" Prince Albert has got the prize again this year. Do you know I
begin to suspect there's a deal of gammon about bis pigs ? "
NELSON'S "RELICTS" AND NELSON'S DAUGHTER.
Under this title, there is an appeal in the Times, in the shape of a
letter to the hero-worshippers—an appeal for " an old cook of Lord
Nelson's." She is nearly 80. She is very helpless. She has scarcely
food to eat. The writer of the letter feels assured that her case has
only to be made known, to be made different. " Surely, even a cat that
had belonged to Lord Nelson would not be suffered to want food, if
persons knew of it."
We believe, with the writer, that a cat of Nelson's—a well-authen-
ticated cat—a cat identified, and vouched for by the very best authority
—would, at the moment, rejoice in a thousand benefactors and bene-
factresses. We have little doubt that even the present Eabl Nelson
himself would, to such a cat, afford food and shelter; even though
the cat, from "increasing age and infirmities," were unable to pay for
such aid and protection the tribute of a single mouse. There would,
on all hands, be little to fear for Nelson's cat; as for Nelson's
cook, we can only say, we wish her better luck than has fallen to
Nelson's child. But then kitchen bars have a better claim on the
sympathies of some folk,—far better, than any sort of bar sinister.
Another correspondent in the Times has given an amusing account of
one of Nelson's sheep—a sheep, given with other live stock by Captain
Hardy, from the Victory, to Captain Griffiths, then commanding a
frigate. This sheep the sailors would not have killed—they would
rather forego fresh meat. The sheep was preserved, finally sent ashore,
and " lived for sixteen years upon Mr. Henty's farm, and the visitors
of Worthing used to go see the animal that once belonged to the im-
mortal and illustrious Nelson." Our wonder is, that Nelson's
reverend brother did not pounce upon the animal, butcher it, and flay
it for its meat and wool. Nelson left his " one ewe lamb," his
Horatia, to the "care of his country," and how—with shame, as
Englishmen, we ask it—how has the country responded to the noble
confidence of its tutelary hero ? Horatia. for any care she has received
of Nelson's countrymen, had better been a sheep.
THE FAT CATTLE COMPETITION.
The competitors for this grand annual affair have been all the year
in training for the great event, and the result is, that many have arrived
at the glorious goal of plethoric pinguidity. The contest has been
somewhat the reverse of a race, for, inasmuch as the latter, is decided
by the rate at which the animals run, the victory in the enormous
struggle of fatness, is to those who are brought most effectually to a
dead stand-still.
Among the oxen, a mountainous brute, No. 19, who seemed quite
unable, from obesity, to carry off anything, succeeded in carrying off the
first prize of £30, though he really looked as if any one pound of the
thirty would have been enough to prevent the poor suet-hearted ox
from again inhaling a breath of oxygen. It was a close competition
between him and No. 4, who was so bulky that he could scarcely raise
his head, but he lost the first place, by lifting up his horns at a moment
when it was a mere toss-up between the two animals. If the steer had j
only been able to steer clear of this movement, he would have had an
equal chance with his rival.
The pigs came out unusually strong this year, and some of them j
evinced more than ordinary intelligence; for they looked up with a ,
speaking eye, as if to ask our admiration, and though, of course, they
said nothing, we took it all for grunted. His Royal Highness Prince :
Albert succeeded, as usual, in obtaining several prizes, and though
he only obtained a third prize for one of his pigs, it, was beaten by a
prodigy of obesity, whose asthmatic wheezing caused it to win by a
short neck. The Earl of Radnob obtained a gold medal for the best
pen of pigs ; and we only wish every nobleman were as happy with his
pen as Lord Radnor. Among the implements a deep-draining
machine claimed particular attention—a fact that does not Tally with
the declaration of the farmers that they are too deeply drained already.
an answer is requested.
It was stated in the Times, that the Directors of a Railway Company
have effected insurances with the London Guarantee Society for the
fidelity of 300 of their clerks. _ Query .- At what rate of Interest would
the Society guarantee the fidelity of Railway Directors ?
245
PUNCH TO THE FRENCH PRESIDENT.
MONS. le PRESIDENT,
I have to acknowledge an act of enlightened courtesy on your
part, towards my illustrious fellow-countryman, Me, Robert Stephen-
son, engineer, who, says your Moniteur, "has been named a Knight of
the Order of the Legion of Honour." Besides the courtesy, there is a
delicate touch of satire in the act—though, I fear, too delicate to be
felt by the ruling powers of perfidious Albion. We don't honour
Literature, Science, or anything of that sort. We now and then
acknowledee the existence of prodigious talent, when we happen to
want it. We bow down and worship an Irou Duke, but we pay no
distinction to_ an Iron Genius. The battle of Waterloo—the fact is
now so historical, that you will pardon my allusion to it—was a splendid
affair, no doubt; but, to my poor thinking, of much less account to the
interests of mankind, than the tubular bridge across the Menai Strait.
That is an iron victory of a somewhat nobler kind. However, nothing
like gunpowder to make a reputation. Iron, founded into cannon,
makes Dukes : iron, worked with the most marvellous skill, that even
Homeric Vtjlcan must applaud and marvel at, calls for no distinction
at the hands of John Bull. He just nods approval, and there an end.
It must be confessed you do these things better in France.
A few days ago, we paid off a couple of ships' crews returned from
the North Pole, making no more account of the gallant hardihood, the
indomitable courage of the noble fellows—of courage exercised in the
holiest cause, than if they had been so many stokers of the Daisy
and the Moonlight, plying between London Bridge and Gravesend.
I can imagine other treatment for such heroes in Prance. Why, Sir,
they would have received a national acknowledgment. They would
have been banquetted at the Hotel de Ville, or at the Invalides. All
Prance, in the person of the Minister of Marine, would have thanked
the tars ; sending them home with their hearts throbbing with a new
love towards their country. We do nothing of the sort. No: we
"accommodate"—so say the newspapers—"the brave fellows at the
pay-table." We throw down their wages, and there an end. We
discharge them as we would discharge a waterman, who takes us from
Battersea to Westminster.
And is this fault only the error of our Government ? Certainly not.
Our journalists are tainted to rankness with it. They want mutual
respect—mutual advocacy of the dignity of their calling. They spatter
ink at one another, whilst they vainly endeavour to cover with many
coats of whirewash—though the black will come through—even an Old.
Bailey Barrister—(why is there not a Brazen Lectureship for the reward
of living brass as well as the Golden ?) to the disadvantage of an honour-
able fellow-labourer. The hireling of the Old Bailey is pure as a "rose-
lipped cherub:" the brother journalist is a knave who eats the bread
of lies.
Peeling and lamen'ing this miserable want of public recognition of
the claims of genius—lamen'ing that those whose proper function it is
to teach and vindicate the dignity of intellect, are too prone to ignore
its noblest, dues,—I learned with the greatest satisfaction that, with a
delicacy honourable to yourself, and satiric of us, you have distinguished
that great man—that wonderful conqueror of the impossible—Robert
Stephenson. His iron triumph will live when the triumphs of round
shot shall have ended.
However, Paris is now brought within nine hours of London, and we
may by-and-by learn better. In the meantime, M. le President,
allow me sincerely to thank you, even for the Legion of Honour!
Receive the assurance of my best consideration,
P. S. Carew has just finished his bas-reliefs _ for the Nelson Pillar.
Can you send Mm anything ? Depend upon it, he will get nothing
from us.
THE LAP OP LUXURY.
Luxury is generally supposed to have a very comfortable, as well as
a very capacious lap, and, like an omnibus, there seems to be always
room for one more, as if the taking up and setting down were so frequent
as to admit of a place being always rrady for a new occupant. We are
afraid, however, that Luxury has not been a careful nurse lately, for
several have tumbled out of her lap who had long been accustomed to
lie in it.
The Railway Mania caused many a lapsus from this desirable lap, and
the fortunes are numerous which have become so de-lap-idated, that
their former owners have been pitched completely out of the lap they
have been accustomed to. Por the wound inflicted by a downfall from
such laps as these, the lapse of time furnishes the only remedy.
A Pig's Whisper
(Overheard at the SmUhfieU Cattle Show).
" Prince Albert has got the prize again this year. Do you know I
begin to suspect there's a deal of gammon about bis pigs ? "
NELSON'S "RELICTS" AND NELSON'S DAUGHTER.
Under this title, there is an appeal in the Times, in the shape of a
letter to the hero-worshippers—an appeal for " an old cook of Lord
Nelson's." She is nearly 80. She is very helpless. She has scarcely
food to eat. The writer of the letter feels assured that her case has
only to be made known, to be made different. " Surely, even a cat that
had belonged to Lord Nelson would not be suffered to want food, if
persons knew of it."
We believe, with the writer, that a cat of Nelson's—a well-authen-
ticated cat—a cat identified, and vouched for by the very best authority
—would, at the moment, rejoice in a thousand benefactors and bene-
factresses. We have little doubt that even the present Eabl Nelson
himself would, to such a cat, afford food and shelter; even though
the cat, from "increasing age and infirmities," were unable to pay for
such aid and protection the tribute of a single mouse. There would,
on all hands, be little to fear for Nelson's cat; as for Nelson's
cook, we can only say, we wish her better luck than has fallen to
Nelson's child. But then kitchen bars have a better claim on the
sympathies of some folk,—far better, than any sort of bar sinister.
Another correspondent in the Times has given an amusing account of
one of Nelson's sheep—a sheep, given with other live stock by Captain
Hardy, from the Victory, to Captain Griffiths, then commanding a
frigate. This sheep the sailors would not have killed—they would
rather forego fresh meat. The sheep was preserved, finally sent ashore,
and " lived for sixteen years upon Mr. Henty's farm, and the visitors
of Worthing used to go see the animal that once belonged to the im-
mortal and illustrious Nelson." Our wonder is, that Nelson's
reverend brother did not pounce upon the animal, butcher it, and flay
it for its meat and wool. Nelson left his " one ewe lamb," his
Horatia, to the "care of his country," and how—with shame, as
Englishmen, we ask it—how has the country responded to the noble
confidence of its tutelary hero ? Horatia. for any care she has received
of Nelson's countrymen, had better been a sheep.
THE FAT CATTLE COMPETITION.
The competitors for this grand annual affair have been all the year
in training for the great event, and the result is, that many have arrived
at the glorious goal of plethoric pinguidity. The contest has been
somewhat the reverse of a race, for, inasmuch as the latter, is decided
by the rate at which the animals run, the victory in the enormous
struggle of fatness, is to those who are brought most effectually to a
dead stand-still.
Among the oxen, a mountainous brute, No. 19, who seemed quite
unable, from obesity, to carry off anything, succeeded in carrying off the
first prize of £30, though he really looked as if any one pound of the
thirty would have been enough to prevent the poor suet-hearted ox
from again inhaling a breath of oxygen. It was a close competition
between him and No. 4, who was so bulky that he could scarcely raise
his head, but he lost the first place, by lifting up his horns at a moment
when it was a mere toss-up between the two animals. If the steer had j
only been able to steer clear of this movement, he would have had an
equal chance with his rival.
The pigs came out unusually strong this year, and some of them j
evinced more than ordinary intelligence; for they looked up with a ,
speaking eye, as if to ask our admiration, and though, of course, they
said nothing, we took it all for grunted. His Royal Highness Prince :
Albert succeeded, as usual, in obtaining several prizes, and though
he only obtained a third prize for one of his pigs, it, was beaten by a
prodigy of obesity, whose asthmatic wheezing caused it to win by a
short neck. The Earl of Radnob obtained a gold medal for the best
pen of pigs ; and we only wish every nobleman were as happy with his
pen as Lord Radnor. Among the implements a deep-draining
machine claimed particular attention—a fact that does not Tally with
the declaration of the farmers that they are too deeply drained already.
an answer is requested.
It was stated in the Times, that the Directors of a Railway Company
have effected insurances with the London Guarantee Society for the
fidelity of 300 of their clerks. _ Query .- At what rate of Interest would
the Society guarantee the fidelity of Railway Directors ?