DOI issue:
July to December, 1854
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16614#0088
80
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
THE HIGH PRICE OF PAPER.
We must confess we are astonished beyond description, either in
prose or poetry, at the high price of paper being still maintained. We
should have thought that the numberless despatches and interminable
autograph letters, which have been flying backwards and forwards
between St. Petersburg and Berlin, and the endless diplomatic notes
that have been exchanged between Austria and those States, would have
lowered the value of waste paper so considerably as to have lessened
the value of paper at least one half. There can have been no want of
materials for making paper, when we think of the extensive corres-
pondence that has been going on for months in relation to this still-un-
answered " Eastern Question." What has become of all this cor-
respondence ? As for its value, it cannot be of the slightest worth to
any one, excepting to buttermen and trunk-makers, and it is high time
that the notes and letters, being completely such dead letters, were
sold. What has become, also, of all the Emperor or Russia's " Ulti-
matums ? " In waste-paper alone, they would be a small fortune to
the holder of them Whoever is the lucky proprietor should come
forward and throw them into the scales of public competition.
PUNCH'S HANDBOOKS TO THE CRYSTAL
PALACE.
THE GREEK COURT (Continued.)
The principal objects of interest in the Greek Court are the pieces of
sculpture, some of which are so well known and have been so frequently
described, that we might as well attempt to get blood out of the stone
of which they are composed, as to extract anything new from them.
First on the list is Venus Victrix, from the Louvre, representing
that rather coarse creature, familiarly known as a fine woman. Such a
Venus would conquer rather by her muscle than by her beauty, and
though the latter might, vulgarly speaking, strike one all of a heap,
the former might knock one over in a still more decisive manner.
No. 4 is the celebrated Quoit-thrower, or Discobolos, of which there
are many copies. The figure is in the rather difficult position of
throwing the quoit, which the sculptor has caught rather happily.
.No. 5 is a Warrior from the Louvre, who is generally known in England
as the Fighting Gladiator, and who has probably been seen by many of our
readers in the person of some suburban Signor, who " does the statues "
at a minor theatre in a suit of white fleshings, a wig of wool, and a
countenance thickly embedded in chalk—a style of getting-up which
is supposed to qualify the worn-out Harlequin for the embodiment of
all or any of the '"' classical heroes of antiquity."
No. 16 brings us to Laocoon and his Sons, from the Vatican. A
group which has come down to the very humblest on the heads of half
the Italian image boys, who offer us "Signor Miltone" for eighteen
pence, or will throw in " Signor Shaksperi " for an extra shilling, if
we will take the pair of them. Laocoon was' the son of Peiam, who
attempted to keep out of Troy the wooden horse by setting up a pike,
but he had no sooner raised his lance than he tound himself encircled,
with his two sons, by a brace of serpents in one of the most affecting _
instances of a family tie that has ever been witnessed. This magnificent considerable time, and did justice to the labours with which Lord
work of art is too noble to be idly touched by the fingers of innovation,
and we therefore can hardly excuse the officiousness which has lent a
hand to the elder son, who had lost one of his arms—the right—and
helped _ him to a set of new tips for his toes, out of pity to the
extremities which he had been reduced to.
No. 25 is a copy of the Jason in the Louvre, which has been
usually called " Cincinnatus tying on his Randal," as if Cincinnatus
had been rather slovenly about the feet, or was in the habit of slipping
out of his own shoes, instead of adhering to the walk of life to which
he was accustomed. The mistake has, no doubt, arisen from the pro-
pinquity of the ploughshare, which was the only share of the gifts of
fortune that Cincinnatus wished to appropriate.
No. 30 brings us to Somnus, who almost sends us to sleep when
we look at him. So drowsy is the
aspect of the figure that we are almost
compelled to pay the highest tribute
to the sculptor's talent by shutting
our eyes to it.
No. 34 is the sleeping Endymion
in relief, from the Capitol at Rome,
a figure in which repose and grace
are so blended as to present in this
alto-relief one of the finest specimens
of out-door relief that can be afforded
by the artistic union already men-
tioned.
No. 51 represents Thalia, who has
been much misrepresented by the
modern writers of comedy. She is
seen at the Crystal Palace with a
mask in one hand and a roll in the
other—the roll probably containing
some of that fancy bred in her brain,
though the mask does not present any
very agreeable features.
No. 65 is a diminutive philosopher from Munich, who from the
smallness of his size, was probably one of those philosophers who are
not destined to make a very great figure. The head does not belong
to the body, but this is natural enough, for many a philosopher has lost
his head, which, under such circumstances, is of no use to any one—not
even to the owner.
Nos. 69 and 71 are horses' heads, the former being peculiar for
the arrangement of its mane, and the latter for the absence of its eyes,
which leave us in the dark as to its origin. If we might indulge in
speculation without the aid of the eyes, we would hazard the conjecture
that the head is that of some blind horse of the dark ages, which may
have worked in some cart employed in the removal of the dust of
antiquity.
No. 78 will be easily recognised as "Cupid and Psyche;" a very
familiar subject, though this is the only specimen in which the figures
are without the wings which usually mark their flightiness. The Cupid
is a very "old love," and has undergone a good deal of restoration
about the nose and chin—the points upon which age is likely to tell,—
and has also been supplied with a new
foot, which many an old Cupid who is a
martyr to the gout would be glad to be
provided with.
In No. 79 we have another Thalia,
from the Louvre, with her head very
much worn by the action of the atmos-
phere. One would suppose that the
Muse had been accustomed to exhibit in
booths and shows in the open air, which
may have subjected her to such an
amount of fair wear and tear as to have
seriously affected her head, and deprived
her of that genuine mirth which in these
days she fails to manifest.
No. 119 furnishes us with some por-
tions of the bas-relief of Trajan's cele-
brated column at Rome, with which no
column of the Times can compete in interest. It is a record of the
deeds of the Emperor whose name it bears, and it is very creditable to
Apollodorus, its author, to have condensed so much history into a
single column.
At No. 178 B, we come to the renowned marbles, which have given a
sort of monumental fame to the name of Elgin. This fortunate noble-
man came over to England with a magnificent collection of marbles in
1801, but it was not till 1816 that the British nation, after a consider-
able amount of funking, was induced to knuckle down to the extent of
£35,000, which was the sum paid for the purchase of these treasures.
The Annual Register (Vol. 58) contains the report of a Select Com-
mittee of the House of Commons which sat upon those marbles for a
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
THE HIGH PRICE OF PAPER.
We must confess we are astonished beyond description, either in
prose or poetry, at the high price of paper being still maintained. We
should have thought that the numberless despatches and interminable
autograph letters, which have been flying backwards and forwards
between St. Petersburg and Berlin, and the endless diplomatic notes
that have been exchanged between Austria and those States, would have
lowered the value of waste paper so considerably as to have lessened
the value of paper at least one half. There can have been no want of
materials for making paper, when we think of the extensive corres-
pondence that has been going on for months in relation to this still-un-
answered " Eastern Question." What has become of all this cor-
respondence ? As for its value, it cannot be of the slightest worth to
any one, excepting to buttermen and trunk-makers, and it is high time
that the notes and letters, being completely such dead letters, were
sold. What has become, also, of all the Emperor or Russia's " Ulti-
matums ? " In waste-paper alone, they would be a small fortune to
the holder of them Whoever is the lucky proprietor should come
forward and throw them into the scales of public competition.
PUNCH'S HANDBOOKS TO THE CRYSTAL
PALACE.
THE GREEK COURT (Continued.)
The principal objects of interest in the Greek Court are the pieces of
sculpture, some of which are so well known and have been so frequently
described, that we might as well attempt to get blood out of the stone
of which they are composed, as to extract anything new from them.
First on the list is Venus Victrix, from the Louvre, representing
that rather coarse creature, familiarly known as a fine woman. Such a
Venus would conquer rather by her muscle than by her beauty, and
though the latter might, vulgarly speaking, strike one all of a heap,
the former might knock one over in a still more decisive manner.
No. 4 is the celebrated Quoit-thrower, or Discobolos, of which there
are many copies. The figure is in the rather difficult position of
throwing the quoit, which the sculptor has caught rather happily.
.No. 5 is a Warrior from the Louvre, who is generally known in England
as the Fighting Gladiator, and who has probably been seen by many of our
readers in the person of some suburban Signor, who " does the statues "
at a minor theatre in a suit of white fleshings, a wig of wool, and a
countenance thickly embedded in chalk—a style of getting-up which
is supposed to qualify the worn-out Harlequin for the embodiment of
all or any of the '"' classical heroes of antiquity."
No. 16 brings us to Laocoon and his Sons, from the Vatican. A
group which has come down to the very humblest on the heads of half
the Italian image boys, who offer us "Signor Miltone" for eighteen
pence, or will throw in " Signor Shaksperi " for an extra shilling, if
we will take the pair of them. Laocoon was' the son of Peiam, who
attempted to keep out of Troy the wooden horse by setting up a pike,
but he had no sooner raised his lance than he tound himself encircled,
with his two sons, by a brace of serpents in one of the most affecting _
instances of a family tie that has ever been witnessed. This magnificent considerable time, and did justice to the labours with which Lord
work of art is too noble to be idly touched by the fingers of innovation,
and we therefore can hardly excuse the officiousness which has lent a
hand to the elder son, who had lost one of his arms—the right—and
helped _ him to a set of new tips for his toes, out of pity to the
extremities which he had been reduced to.
No. 25 is a copy of the Jason in the Louvre, which has been
usually called " Cincinnatus tying on his Randal," as if Cincinnatus
had been rather slovenly about the feet, or was in the habit of slipping
out of his own shoes, instead of adhering to the walk of life to which
he was accustomed. The mistake has, no doubt, arisen from the pro-
pinquity of the ploughshare, which was the only share of the gifts of
fortune that Cincinnatus wished to appropriate.
No. 30 brings us to Somnus, who almost sends us to sleep when
we look at him. So drowsy is the
aspect of the figure that we are almost
compelled to pay the highest tribute
to the sculptor's talent by shutting
our eyes to it.
No. 34 is the sleeping Endymion
in relief, from the Capitol at Rome,
a figure in which repose and grace
are so blended as to present in this
alto-relief one of the finest specimens
of out-door relief that can be afforded
by the artistic union already men-
tioned.
No. 51 represents Thalia, who has
been much misrepresented by the
modern writers of comedy. She is
seen at the Crystal Palace with a
mask in one hand and a roll in the
other—the roll probably containing
some of that fancy bred in her brain,
though the mask does not present any
very agreeable features.
No. 65 is a diminutive philosopher from Munich, who from the
smallness of his size, was probably one of those philosophers who are
not destined to make a very great figure. The head does not belong
to the body, but this is natural enough, for many a philosopher has lost
his head, which, under such circumstances, is of no use to any one—not
even to the owner.
Nos. 69 and 71 are horses' heads, the former being peculiar for
the arrangement of its mane, and the latter for the absence of its eyes,
which leave us in the dark as to its origin. If we might indulge in
speculation without the aid of the eyes, we would hazard the conjecture
that the head is that of some blind horse of the dark ages, which may
have worked in some cart employed in the removal of the dust of
antiquity.
No. 78 will be easily recognised as "Cupid and Psyche;" a very
familiar subject, though this is the only specimen in which the figures
are without the wings which usually mark their flightiness. The Cupid
is a very "old love," and has undergone a good deal of restoration
about the nose and chin—the points upon which age is likely to tell,—
and has also been supplied with a new
foot, which many an old Cupid who is a
martyr to the gout would be glad to be
provided with.
In No. 79 we have another Thalia,
from the Louvre, with her head very
much worn by the action of the atmos-
phere. One would suppose that the
Muse had been accustomed to exhibit in
booths and shows in the open air, which
may have subjected her to such an
amount of fair wear and tear as to have
seriously affected her head, and deprived
her of that genuine mirth which in these
days she fails to manifest.
No. 119 furnishes us with some por-
tions of the bas-relief of Trajan's cele-
brated column at Rome, with which no
column of the Times can compete in interest. It is a record of the
deeds of the Emperor whose name it bears, and it is very creditable to
Apollodorus, its author, to have condensed so much history into a
single column.
At No. 178 B, we come to the renowned marbles, which have given a
sort of monumental fame to the name of Elgin. This fortunate noble-
man came over to England with a magnificent collection of marbles in
1801, but it was not till 1816 that the British nation, after a consider-
able amount of funking, was induced to knuckle down to the extent of
£35,000, which was the sum paid for the purchase of these treasures.
The Annual Register (Vol. 58) contains the report of a Select Com-
mittee of the House of Commons which sat upon those marbles for a