DOI Heft:
July to December, 1851
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16608#0057
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
45
Angelina (the Wife of his Busswm). " Well, Edwin, if You can't make
the ' Things,' as you call them, Meet, You need not Swear so. It's
Really quite Dreadful ! "
A VISIT TO THE BRITISH CONSUL'S
AT BOULOGNE.
(From our own Correspondent)
The demand for economy in our diplomatic establishments has been
promptly met at Boulogne-sur-Mer, if we are to judge by the arrange-
ments made to represent Her Majesty at the Passport-office of the
British Consulate on the port. The locality chosen has an air of
extreme cheapness, for it is flanked by the fish-market on one side, and
the hackney-carriage stand on the other ; so that the Consular establish-
ment is within ear-shot of the language of the poissardes and the
(niarrels of the fly-drivers, besides being within nose-shot of the articles
in which the former individuals deal. The establishment itself is upon a
scale which would afford the utmost delight to the lover of retrenchment,
though the concern is not of a nature to set the British bosom bound-
ing with national pride. At a small house, inscribed with the words
Ferblanterie, Chaudronnerie, Poelerie, Plomberie, or, in plain English,
Tin-ery, Saucepan-ery, Pot-ery, and Lead-ery, the British Consulate
occupies a room, which cannot be entered boldly from the front, but is
accessible only by going " round the corner," where may be found the
Consul's bell.
On opening the door, the traveller seeking "aid and protection,"
in the name of Her Majesty, finds himself in a dark entry, when
the noise he makes in tumbling about the passage will elicit &femelle
cry^of " Walk up," if his signals of distress happen to be heard.
The would-be protegee of the British Government having groped his
way up a narrow staircase, with a sharp turn in the middle, comes face
to face with a female, to whom the noise of the tumbling about serves
as a convenient summons, and who desires him to "Walk in there."
The traveller obeys the order, and enters an apartment sufficiently light
to show him that he has carried away a considerable quantity of white-
wash from the staircase wall of the establishment on his clothes. He is
now in the office of the Consulate, the furniture of which consists of
two rush-bottomed chairs, a very small deal table, and a sort of deal
box, elevated upon four articles resembling broom-handles, which serves
for the official desk.
The British traveller waits with due respect for the entrance of the
British Consul—the representative of the British Government, acting
in the name of Her Majesty—when in runs an individual whose
toilette is anything but soignee, and who wears a cloth cap, which is
probably glued, gummed, or otherwise fastened on to his head, and
exclaims—" Want a passport ? Sit down here."
A glance shows the stranger that he is not in presence of the
veritable British Consul; for the cry for cheapness and its conventional
companion has not yet led to the necessity for reducing the repre-
sentative of the Government to the sort of article we have described.
Taking one from a number of documents in blank, but already
bearing the official signature which is to give it its validity, and is the
guarantee to the French Government that the bearer of the passport is
entitled to aid and protection, the individual in the immovable cloth
cap cuts off a slice, and pushing it towards the stranger, exclaims—
" Write your name there." The ceremony is performed. The stranger
writes his own name, if convenient, or anybody else's name, if he pre-
fers it. The name given is inserted in the passport, which is handed
over, with a demand for 5 francs, 14 sous.
The printed form provides for certain particulars, as to hair, whiskers,
eyes, and nose, the description of which used to be thought a complete
precaution against fraud; but since hair-dye has enabled every swindler
to travel under false colours, the colour usually devoted to the tattle,
nez, front, bouche, visage, cheveux, &c, is left in a state of blank
ambiguity.
It is difficult for the stranger to resist an exclamation of, " What a
farce this is ! " Upon which the deputy deputy-representative of the
British Government will probably observe, with a sudden sense of the
dignity of his occupation, " Oh, no ! it's very necessary; the roads
wouldn't be safe without it. There'd be all sorts of characters going
about." It is probable the stranger will not argue the question with
the man in the immovable cloth cap; but it will not require much con-
sideration to arrive at the conclusion, that, a passport, signed in blank,
to be delivered by an underling to anybody who chooses to give a
name, and 4?. &d., cannot protect the roads from any bad characters
whatever. We do not join to the full extent with the economists in
crying out for the curtailment of useful expenditure, but we do object to
the system of eking out the pay of a Consul by imposing a fee of 4s. Qd.
on such a miserable mockery as the obtaining a passport at Boulogne.
We do not say that the British Consul is, or is not, overpaid; but we
do say, that it ought not to be necessary to keep on foot the wretched
one-pair front over the fish-stalls at the Saucepan-ery, Pot-ery, &c, &c,
for the purpose of getting the four-and-sixpences out of the pockets of
the British passenger to Paris. If the Consuls are to be paid, or
partially paid, by a tax on travellers, it might be all fair enough; but
let the tax be claimed in a straightforward manner, and not in the name
of as gross a piece of humbug as ever was gone through in the name of
constituted authority.
One of Lord Palmerston's reasons for paying a sufficient sum for
the diplomatic service, is the necessity for hospitality to Englishmen
abroad; but the arrangements at the consular establishment on the
Boulogne port, with its two rush-bottomed chairs and little deal table,
are anything but hospitable in their external character. We must do
the Consulate the justice to say, that the chief establishment in a
distant and inconvenient part of the town is sufficiently imposing for a
consular residence; but to the traveller who sees nothing of the repre-
sentative of the British Government beyond what he finds at the
Tin-ery, Saucepan-ery, and Pot-ery over the fish-stalls and the fly-stand,
will feel that the dignity of the crown, descending through several
deputies to the immovable cloth cap on the head of a not very distingue
individual in less than demi-toilette, is rather poorly provided for.
CAMPBELL'S PLEASURES OP HOPE.
{Rendered into Prose for the Exhibition.)
That the constitution of the Crystal Palace is much too light ever
to last!
That it has not a frame that is not completely shattered!
That it has fresh panes breaking out every day !
That the air of Hyde Park is not sufficiently bracing for the girders !
That the body of the building is as delicate as that of a fashionable
young lady at the end of the season!
That one season, in fact, has regularly knocked it up!
That, above all, the building is much too beautiful—far too clever—
ever to live long !
That the idea of turning it into a Winter Garden is a tremendous
Plant that never can flourish !
That a Winter Garden will only rear rheumatisms, coughs, and agues,
and can be nothing more than a huge hot-house for consumption!
That unless young ladies are dressed in Divers' costumes of oil-skin
or tarpawling, they will be infallibly drenched to the skin—as has been
painfully proved to be the case with all the young ladies who frequent
the Jardin d'Hiver at Paris—every one of whom has died in consequence.
That, in order to prove the idea " will not hold water for a minute,"
it is highly necessary to pick as many holes in it as possible—for it
is very clear that if the holes are only large enough, the rain will
come through, and by that means the concern may be eventually
swamped altogether !
That, moreover, and especially, and above all, a Winter Garden
45
Angelina (the Wife of his Busswm). " Well, Edwin, if You can't make
the ' Things,' as you call them, Meet, You need not Swear so. It's
Really quite Dreadful ! "
A VISIT TO THE BRITISH CONSUL'S
AT BOULOGNE.
(From our own Correspondent)
The demand for economy in our diplomatic establishments has been
promptly met at Boulogne-sur-Mer, if we are to judge by the arrange-
ments made to represent Her Majesty at the Passport-office of the
British Consulate on the port. The locality chosen has an air of
extreme cheapness, for it is flanked by the fish-market on one side, and
the hackney-carriage stand on the other ; so that the Consular establish-
ment is within ear-shot of the language of the poissardes and the
(niarrels of the fly-drivers, besides being within nose-shot of the articles
in which the former individuals deal. The establishment itself is upon a
scale which would afford the utmost delight to the lover of retrenchment,
though the concern is not of a nature to set the British bosom bound-
ing with national pride. At a small house, inscribed with the words
Ferblanterie, Chaudronnerie, Poelerie, Plomberie, or, in plain English,
Tin-ery, Saucepan-ery, Pot-ery, and Lead-ery, the British Consulate
occupies a room, which cannot be entered boldly from the front, but is
accessible only by going " round the corner," where may be found the
Consul's bell.
On opening the door, the traveller seeking "aid and protection,"
in the name of Her Majesty, finds himself in a dark entry, when
the noise he makes in tumbling about the passage will elicit &femelle
cry^of " Walk up," if his signals of distress happen to be heard.
The would-be protegee of the British Government having groped his
way up a narrow staircase, with a sharp turn in the middle, comes face
to face with a female, to whom the noise of the tumbling about serves
as a convenient summons, and who desires him to "Walk in there."
The traveller obeys the order, and enters an apartment sufficiently light
to show him that he has carried away a considerable quantity of white-
wash from the staircase wall of the establishment on his clothes. He is
now in the office of the Consulate, the furniture of which consists of
two rush-bottomed chairs, a very small deal table, and a sort of deal
box, elevated upon four articles resembling broom-handles, which serves
for the official desk.
The British traveller waits with due respect for the entrance of the
British Consul—the representative of the British Government, acting
in the name of Her Majesty—when in runs an individual whose
toilette is anything but soignee, and who wears a cloth cap, which is
probably glued, gummed, or otherwise fastened on to his head, and
exclaims—" Want a passport ? Sit down here."
A glance shows the stranger that he is not in presence of the
veritable British Consul; for the cry for cheapness and its conventional
companion has not yet led to the necessity for reducing the repre-
sentative of the Government to the sort of article we have described.
Taking one from a number of documents in blank, but already
bearing the official signature which is to give it its validity, and is the
guarantee to the French Government that the bearer of the passport is
entitled to aid and protection, the individual in the immovable cloth
cap cuts off a slice, and pushing it towards the stranger, exclaims—
" Write your name there." The ceremony is performed. The stranger
writes his own name, if convenient, or anybody else's name, if he pre-
fers it. The name given is inserted in the passport, which is handed
over, with a demand for 5 francs, 14 sous.
The printed form provides for certain particulars, as to hair, whiskers,
eyes, and nose, the description of which used to be thought a complete
precaution against fraud; but since hair-dye has enabled every swindler
to travel under false colours, the colour usually devoted to the tattle,
nez, front, bouche, visage, cheveux, &c, is left in a state of blank
ambiguity.
It is difficult for the stranger to resist an exclamation of, " What a
farce this is ! " Upon which the deputy deputy-representative of the
British Government will probably observe, with a sudden sense of the
dignity of his occupation, " Oh, no ! it's very necessary; the roads
wouldn't be safe without it. There'd be all sorts of characters going
about." It is probable the stranger will not argue the question with
the man in the immovable cloth cap; but it will not require much con-
sideration to arrive at the conclusion, that, a passport, signed in blank,
to be delivered by an underling to anybody who chooses to give a
name, and 4?. &d., cannot protect the roads from any bad characters
whatever. We do not join to the full extent with the economists in
crying out for the curtailment of useful expenditure, but we do object to
the system of eking out the pay of a Consul by imposing a fee of 4s. Qd.
on such a miserable mockery as the obtaining a passport at Boulogne.
We do not say that the British Consul is, or is not, overpaid; but we
do say, that it ought not to be necessary to keep on foot the wretched
one-pair front over the fish-stalls at the Saucepan-ery, Pot-ery, &c, &c,
for the purpose of getting the four-and-sixpences out of the pockets of
the British passenger to Paris. If the Consuls are to be paid, or
partially paid, by a tax on travellers, it might be all fair enough; but
let the tax be claimed in a straightforward manner, and not in the name
of as gross a piece of humbug as ever was gone through in the name of
constituted authority.
One of Lord Palmerston's reasons for paying a sufficient sum for
the diplomatic service, is the necessity for hospitality to Englishmen
abroad; but the arrangements at the consular establishment on the
Boulogne port, with its two rush-bottomed chairs and little deal table,
are anything but hospitable in their external character. We must do
the Consulate the justice to say, that the chief establishment in a
distant and inconvenient part of the town is sufficiently imposing for a
consular residence; but to the traveller who sees nothing of the repre-
sentative of the British Government beyond what he finds at the
Tin-ery, Saucepan-ery, and Pot-ery over the fish-stalls and the fly-stand,
will feel that the dignity of the crown, descending through several
deputies to the immovable cloth cap on the head of a not very distingue
individual in less than demi-toilette, is rather poorly provided for.
CAMPBELL'S PLEASURES OP HOPE.
{Rendered into Prose for the Exhibition.)
That the constitution of the Crystal Palace is much too light ever
to last!
That it has not a frame that is not completely shattered!
That it has fresh panes breaking out every day !
That the air of Hyde Park is not sufficiently bracing for the girders !
That the body of the building is as delicate as that of a fashionable
young lady at the end of the season!
That one season, in fact, has regularly knocked it up!
That, above all, the building is much too beautiful—far too clever—
ever to live long !
That the idea of turning it into a Winter Garden is a tremendous
Plant that never can flourish !
That a Winter Garden will only rear rheumatisms, coughs, and agues,
and can be nothing more than a huge hot-house for consumption!
That unless young ladies are dressed in Divers' costumes of oil-skin
or tarpawling, they will be infallibly drenched to the skin—as has been
painfully proved to be the case with all the young ladies who frequent
the Jardin d'Hiver at Paris—every one of whom has died in consequence.
That, in order to prove the idea " will not hold water for a minute,"
it is highly necessary to pick as many holes in it as possible—for it
is very clear that if the holes are only large enough, the rain will
come through, and by that means the concern may be eventually
swamped altogether !
That, moreover, and especially, and above all, a Winter Garden