DOI issue:
July to December, 1851
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16608#0093
PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
81
PUNCH'S LUMBER-TROOPER IN PARIS.
raciously wishing to give a most original
account of the sham-fight fought inhonour
of the English visitors at Paris, Punch,
wholly regardless of expense, entered
into arrangements with Captain Flash-
inpan of the Lumber Troop, to supply
the article. The Captain has served (as
defendant) in several actions; and has
also seen some service in the Fleet.
" Hotel de Caniche, August 7.
_ " Mr. Punch,—I have the honour to
sit down, covered with dust, to give you
the details—from a bird's-eye view—of
one of the most glorious sham-fights ever
yet fought upon the field of fiction. If I know the hearts of
yourself and readers, you will, I know, pardon me, if at the earliest
paragraph, I state that the Lord Mayor is safe! His left whisker
was blown off in an early part of the day; which necessitated the
shaving of the right; his Lordship, as a British merchant, knowing
the propriety of a proper balance. Mr. Alderman Salomons—(he im-
prudently appeared in real gold epaulets as a City Artilleryman of the
Red Sea division)—was surprised, and carried off by the enemy on the
first attack; but was returned ' better as new/ in the handsomest
manner to his hotel in the evening.
" The morning broke beautifully; and—it being 95 in the shade—
there was every belief that the river would be hotly disputed. The
Champ de Mars was on the left of the Seine; the Trocadero and the
Bois de Boulogne, on the right. Out of complin ent to the Lord
Mayor, who was dressed as a full general of Lanceis, and seated in a
tribune, flanked on each side by a dozen of London porter—the troops
on the left began to move en echellon across the river, to the ' Roast
Beef of Old England! Their fire was gallantly received—as much of it
as came—by the troops on the right.
" Here, however, the troops from the Trocadero deployed at double-
quick time, all but turning the flank of a pontoon. Success would
have been certain, only at this critical juncture a battery threw off its
mask, and played away in real earnest. To form a hollow square, and
so cover the counterscarp—materially weakened by the artillery of the
enemy—was only the act of fifteen minutes. And then * * * *
* * * But here, 1 regret to say that the increased firing prevented
my seeing anything but clouds of smoke, that rolled in the most magni-
ficent manner to the other side of the river.
_" At this moment a splendid movement was made by the Cara-
bineers, determined to carry the post of the enemy, or perish in the
attempt, when—[/ am again compelled to omit details, the smoke being
thicker than ever.'}
" Here a brilliant charge was made, when— [Smoke],
" Covering the heights, and then deploying to the left, the artillery
of the enemy blazing away, and—{Consequently more smoke}.
" The smoke clearing off, here occurred one of those heart-delighting,
soul-subliming incidents that make war the game of demigods. I have
already said the day was hot: at this moment the mercury stood at
120; when—the smoke cleared off. Then might be seen both armies
nearing the banks of the Seine. The men approached each other fear-
lessly ; threw down their caps and muskets ; talked to one another about
Le grand Maire de Londres—Le Palais Paxton—Ponche—and so forth.
All asperity of feeling seemed forgotten ! Cigars were about to be
exchanged, when suddenly the bugles sounded; the drums beat to
arms; the rival soldiery embraced; parted with mutual expressions
of fraternity; and, before you could say ' Jack Robinson,' were again
at the bayonet's point. Then, the stupid philosopher would have
thought, why not shake hands for good, and throw away bayonets for
ever ? But the cannon roared ; and again war—magnificent, glorious
war—was—{Smoke—smoke—sm oke.~]
" Returned to my inn, I have the honour to remain,
" Yours, in shirt-sleeves and slippers,
" Hannibal Flashinpan."
CAUTION.
\\j HEREAS a quantity of FRENCH MONEY is in Circulation, this
"» CAUTION is given to all young Englishmen who are in the habit of going to
places of Public Amusement, to look carefully at the Silver they receive in exchange
for their Gold ; or, otherwise, they will pocket a loss of One Shilling and Threepence,
if not more, upon every Five-Franc Piece they receive in lieu of a Five-Shilling Ditio;
to say nothing of the additional lost, of Twopence, at the very least, (or every miserable
Franc that is palmed upon them for an honest Shilling; in addition to a further
depreciation in the value of every Sovereign, caused by a number of paltry little
ton-sons pieces being substituted for an equal number of valuable Sixpences.
(Signed) COLONEL PUNCH,
Inspector- General of Moral Police.
THE SONG OE THE PUMP;
As supposed to have been sung at the Grand Teetotal Demonstration
of August 4.
How sad the delusion—how great the mistake—
That punch cures gout, cholic, and phthisic ;
That it heals any ailment, relieves the least ache,
Or in any way answers as physic !
And, oh! how fallacious the doctrine they teach—
Those unphilosophical thinkers—
Who would make you believe that care never can reach
The souls of deep-swilling wine-drinkers!
'Tisn't true that the lover, when pallid with grief,
Can from toping derive consolation;
Taking glass after glass will afford no relief,
But lead only to intoxication.
When they tell you there's nothing to tipple like bt er,
That it best suits the human interior,
Don't believe them; pump-water, salubrious and clear,
Is in ev'ry respect far superior.
Cups of kindness to quaff is completely absurd,—
It is silly to pledge friends at table;
Why not be content to wish health with a word,
Since to wish it is all that you 're able ?
What an error with drink when you servants repay,
Or workmen excite to exertion !
They care not for grog or malt-liquor,—not they !
No; they hold such rewards in aversion.
How erroneous the notion that funerals are made
Less mournful, or weddings more merry,
By anything stronger than nice lemonade—
By your claret, champagne, port, or sherry !
A hospital, playhouse, or church, when you found,
Ah ! why must the liquor be flowing ?
When a beadle's sworn in, or a bishop enthroned,
Why are bottles and barrels set going ?
When you christen a baby, what need you to sip
Strong liquor ? you'd better not take it.
Why not do as you do when you christen a ship ?
Have your bottle, but fling it and break it.
This, this is the way, boys, your bottle to crack,
In pastime so genial and hearty;
And I'm sure a companion you never will lack,
If I can be one of your party.
PALMERSTON THE FRIEND OF ITALY.
Lord Palmerston—he announced the fact amid the cheers of the
House—has had copies of Mr. Gladstone's pamphlet on the atrocities
of the King of Naples sent to our Ministers at the various Courts of
Europe. When a murderer, a burglar, or a footpad commits a crime,
the description of the culprit is printed in the Hue and Cry, and sent to
all police offices. King Ferdinand's portrait, drawn from demoniac
life, is by this time in the hands of our Ambassadors and Consuls.
How is it painted ?
" Head, big as biggest bomb-shell; and filled with the same diabolical materials.
Mouth, a faux Averni—nose, the Bridge of Sighs."
Lord Palmerston praised Mr. Gladstone for tot diving into
volcanoes and exploring excavated cities: but, on the other hand, for
going to Neapolitan Courts of Justice, and descending into dungeons.
His Lordship counselled other English gentlemen to copy Mr.
Gladstone's example; counsel more easily given than followed : for,
doubtless, the King of Naples will not feel so much flattered by the
Gladstone portrait, as to sit for other copies. Any way, the King
Ferdinand, gibbeted by the English printer, now dangles in the office
of every English embassy. And this is something. We trust that the
Friends of Italy will lose no time in electing Lord Palmerston an
honorary and honoured member.
By-the-way, Mr. Cochrane—who has written a book, in which he
shows the King of Naples as a King of Maccarone, a most charming
and, to his subjects, most nutritious King —Mr. Cochrane threw
himself between De Lacy Evans and the Royal Bomb-shell. There
is an old proverb—
Un Inglese Italianato
E un diavolo incarnato.
As Mr. Cochrane nominally represents an English constituency,
let him cultivate English feelings. If the King of Naples is to have
a lucifer to show his merits, let not the match be British oak tipped
with Neapolitan brimstone.
81
PUNCH'S LUMBER-TROOPER IN PARIS.
raciously wishing to give a most original
account of the sham-fight fought inhonour
of the English visitors at Paris, Punch,
wholly regardless of expense, entered
into arrangements with Captain Flash-
inpan of the Lumber Troop, to supply
the article. The Captain has served (as
defendant) in several actions; and has
also seen some service in the Fleet.
" Hotel de Caniche, August 7.
_ " Mr. Punch,—I have the honour to
sit down, covered with dust, to give you
the details—from a bird's-eye view—of
one of the most glorious sham-fights ever
yet fought upon the field of fiction. If I know the hearts of
yourself and readers, you will, I know, pardon me, if at the earliest
paragraph, I state that the Lord Mayor is safe! His left whisker
was blown off in an early part of the day; which necessitated the
shaving of the right; his Lordship, as a British merchant, knowing
the propriety of a proper balance. Mr. Alderman Salomons—(he im-
prudently appeared in real gold epaulets as a City Artilleryman of the
Red Sea division)—was surprised, and carried off by the enemy on the
first attack; but was returned ' better as new/ in the handsomest
manner to his hotel in the evening.
" The morning broke beautifully; and—it being 95 in the shade—
there was every belief that the river would be hotly disputed. The
Champ de Mars was on the left of the Seine; the Trocadero and the
Bois de Boulogne, on the right. Out of complin ent to the Lord
Mayor, who was dressed as a full general of Lanceis, and seated in a
tribune, flanked on each side by a dozen of London porter—the troops
on the left began to move en echellon across the river, to the ' Roast
Beef of Old England! Their fire was gallantly received—as much of it
as came—by the troops on the right.
" Here, however, the troops from the Trocadero deployed at double-
quick time, all but turning the flank of a pontoon. Success would
have been certain, only at this critical juncture a battery threw off its
mask, and played away in real earnest. To form a hollow square, and
so cover the counterscarp—materially weakened by the artillery of the
enemy—was only the act of fifteen minutes. And then * * * *
* * * But here, 1 regret to say that the increased firing prevented
my seeing anything but clouds of smoke, that rolled in the most magni-
ficent manner to the other side of the river.
_" At this moment a splendid movement was made by the Cara-
bineers, determined to carry the post of the enemy, or perish in the
attempt, when—[/ am again compelled to omit details, the smoke being
thicker than ever.'}
" Here a brilliant charge was made, when— [Smoke],
" Covering the heights, and then deploying to the left, the artillery
of the enemy blazing away, and—{Consequently more smoke}.
" The smoke clearing off, here occurred one of those heart-delighting,
soul-subliming incidents that make war the game of demigods. I have
already said the day was hot: at this moment the mercury stood at
120; when—the smoke cleared off. Then might be seen both armies
nearing the banks of the Seine. The men approached each other fear-
lessly ; threw down their caps and muskets ; talked to one another about
Le grand Maire de Londres—Le Palais Paxton—Ponche—and so forth.
All asperity of feeling seemed forgotten ! Cigars were about to be
exchanged, when suddenly the bugles sounded; the drums beat to
arms; the rival soldiery embraced; parted with mutual expressions
of fraternity; and, before you could say ' Jack Robinson,' were again
at the bayonet's point. Then, the stupid philosopher would have
thought, why not shake hands for good, and throw away bayonets for
ever ? But the cannon roared ; and again war—magnificent, glorious
war—was—{Smoke—smoke—sm oke.~]
" Returned to my inn, I have the honour to remain,
" Yours, in shirt-sleeves and slippers,
" Hannibal Flashinpan."
CAUTION.
\\j HEREAS a quantity of FRENCH MONEY is in Circulation, this
"» CAUTION is given to all young Englishmen who are in the habit of going to
places of Public Amusement, to look carefully at the Silver they receive in exchange
for their Gold ; or, otherwise, they will pocket a loss of One Shilling and Threepence,
if not more, upon every Five-Franc Piece they receive in lieu of a Five-Shilling Ditio;
to say nothing of the additional lost, of Twopence, at the very least, (or every miserable
Franc that is palmed upon them for an honest Shilling; in addition to a further
depreciation in the value of every Sovereign, caused by a number of paltry little
ton-sons pieces being substituted for an equal number of valuable Sixpences.
(Signed) COLONEL PUNCH,
Inspector- General of Moral Police.
THE SONG OE THE PUMP;
As supposed to have been sung at the Grand Teetotal Demonstration
of August 4.
How sad the delusion—how great the mistake—
That punch cures gout, cholic, and phthisic ;
That it heals any ailment, relieves the least ache,
Or in any way answers as physic !
And, oh! how fallacious the doctrine they teach—
Those unphilosophical thinkers—
Who would make you believe that care never can reach
The souls of deep-swilling wine-drinkers!
'Tisn't true that the lover, when pallid with grief,
Can from toping derive consolation;
Taking glass after glass will afford no relief,
But lead only to intoxication.
When they tell you there's nothing to tipple like bt er,
That it best suits the human interior,
Don't believe them; pump-water, salubrious and clear,
Is in ev'ry respect far superior.
Cups of kindness to quaff is completely absurd,—
It is silly to pledge friends at table;
Why not be content to wish health with a word,
Since to wish it is all that you 're able ?
What an error with drink when you servants repay,
Or workmen excite to exertion !
They care not for grog or malt-liquor,—not they !
No; they hold such rewards in aversion.
How erroneous the notion that funerals are made
Less mournful, or weddings more merry,
By anything stronger than nice lemonade—
By your claret, champagne, port, or sherry !
A hospital, playhouse, or church, when you found,
Ah ! why must the liquor be flowing ?
When a beadle's sworn in, or a bishop enthroned,
Why are bottles and barrels set going ?
When you christen a baby, what need you to sip
Strong liquor ? you'd better not take it.
Why not do as you do when you christen a ship ?
Have your bottle, but fling it and break it.
This, this is the way, boys, your bottle to crack,
In pastime so genial and hearty;
And I'm sure a companion you never will lack,
If I can be one of your party.
PALMERSTON THE FRIEND OF ITALY.
Lord Palmerston—he announced the fact amid the cheers of the
House—has had copies of Mr. Gladstone's pamphlet on the atrocities
of the King of Naples sent to our Ministers at the various Courts of
Europe. When a murderer, a burglar, or a footpad commits a crime,
the description of the culprit is printed in the Hue and Cry, and sent to
all police offices. King Ferdinand's portrait, drawn from demoniac
life, is by this time in the hands of our Ambassadors and Consuls.
How is it painted ?
" Head, big as biggest bomb-shell; and filled with the same diabolical materials.
Mouth, a faux Averni—nose, the Bridge of Sighs."
Lord Palmerston praised Mr. Gladstone for tot diving into
volcanoes and exploring excavated cities: but, on the other hand, for
going to Neapolitan Courts of Justice, and descending into dungeons.
His Lordship counselled other English gentlemen to copy Mr.
Gladstone's example; counsel more easily given than followed : for,
doubtless, the King of Naples will not feel so much flattered by the
Gladstone portrait, as to sit for other copies. Any way, the King
Ferdinand, gibbeted by the English printer, now dangles in the office
of every English embassy. And this is something. We trust that the
Friends of Italy will lose no time in electing Lord Palmerston an
honorary and honoured member.
By-the-way, Mr. Cochrane—who has written a book, in which he
shows the King of Naples as a King of Maccarone, a most charming
and, to his subjects, most nutritious King —Mr. Cochrane threw
himself between De Lacy Evans and the Royal Bomb-shell. There
is an old proverb—
Un Inglese Italianato
E un diavolo incarnato.
As Mr. Cochrane nominally represents an English constituency,
let him cultivate English feelings. If the King of Naples is to have
a lucifer to show his merits, let not the match be British oak tipped
with Neapolitan brimstone.