DOI issue:
Punch's essence of parliament
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16615#0051
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
SHOCKING SHIFTS OF BARRISTERS.
other day an old woman was charged
with pawning the shirts of a barrister.
We nse the word “ shirts ” advisedly in
the plural number, for if we are to believe
the statement of the pawnbroker, the
fact of a barrister having more than one
shirt to his back is not always to be
taken for granted. Some remark having
been made on the carelessness of the
pawnbroker in taking into pledge the
linen of a member of the English Bar, it
was urged in excuse that the barristers
are always pawning their shirts, and
other items of their wardrobe. We
know that business has been bad in
Westminster Hall, but we will not be-
lieve for one moment the monstrous asser-
tion that the English Bar is partially
supported by advances of an avuncular character. We have reason to know that
even Briefless would rather shed his last halfpenny than unbosom bimsell by
tearing off his shirt, and placing it in the hands ol a pawnbroker.
According to the unfair statement at Bow Street it would seem that the chief
practice of the Bar is derived from the practice of pledging its body linen. VYe
recommend a public meeting of the profession to hurl this calumny back at the
head of anybody and everybody who dares to give it currency, and we would pro-
pose that every barrister should rot only be served with notice to produce at least
half-a-dozen shirts, but should alto be called upon to pledge his honour that he is
not in the habit of pledging his wearing apparel.
CUE IN AH Y ENLISTMENT.
Judging from the letters which have recently been published, and which may,
doubtless, be received as letters of credit, we should think that “good plain
cooks” were never in so much demand as they are before Sebastopol just at present.
Eor want of proper knowledge and appliances, it seems our raw recruits have been
reduced to eat their rations in a similar condition, while the oldest campaigner has
found it rather difficult to dress a dinner for one without making a mess of it.
Indeed, one of “ our own correspondents ” last week, tells us:—
“ I shall scarcely exaggerate, I think, in saying that with the exception of their biscuit, the men
have been for weeks entirely living upon uncooked victuals. Through scarcity of fuel, and perfect
ignorance of cooking, to say nothing of the absence of all culinary apparatus, the beef and pork is
swallowed usually, just as it is served out, and in many cases, I have known even the coffee has
been eaten, without so much as being roasted.”
“Every man his own cook ” has, we know, been long the rule of the Service, but
we think it is high time for us to take exception to it. Its effect is simply to make
many do the work of one, which, to say the least, is bad economy of labour, and
indeed in culinary matters is proverbial for ill success. We own we have not
placed much faith, as yet, in the Eoreign Eulistment, but we believe the Service
would do well to enlist a few French Cooks into it. Let M. Soyer be empowered
at once to raise a Legion of them, and proceed forthwith to the Crimea with his
culinary corps. We are sure our Army would be much more strengthened by
getting, regularly, well-cooked food to eat, than by having any number of fresh
forces sent them, to become, in short time, as they now do, weaknesses. By having
their dinners well-dressed, our troops will doubtless be the better able to extend
that process to the enemy, and if we really mean to carry on the “ war to the
knife ” (and fork), we question if a better plan than this could be devised for
doing so.
WATERLOO AVENGED.
“ General Canrobert has placed at the disposal of Lord Ragt a
10,000 capotes, for the use of the English army in the Crimea. Te
thousand British soldiers now wear the French uniform.”
Correspondence from the Camp.
Long we had owned them noble foes,
Late we have owned them friends.
Knit by the brunt of equal blows.
Joint perils, common ends.
At Alma’s field of desperate fight.
On Inkermann’s blood-sodden height,
Twin laurels Victory blends—
No name so high on either side.
But France and England share the pride.
And if at length each English heart
With sudden shame is wrung—
If to each cheek the blushes start.
The curse to every tongue—
’Tis not to France we owe the shame,
The name we curse is no French name—
By our own sting we ’re stung.
Our own hands forged the untrusty sword,
That now in peril fails its Lord.
To bless French aid what man was slow
In counsel or in fray ?
Debts of the sword brave souls may owe,
For such debts they can pay.
But oh, the shame in England’s heart,
That she should play the beggar’s part,
Eor pauper dole should pray—
From France’s liberal hand should crave.
Raiment to shield her shivering brave !
And this, while proffering all her gold,
Opening her world-wide store ;
Ready to lavish sums uni old,
And these gone, to give more :
The means, that they who have fought and bled
May be well housed and clothed and fed,
She hath given—o’er and o’er :
But wits to plan and heads to guide
She lacks—and what is all beside ?
One memory, it hath been said,
Rankles each French heart through,
As of a debt that must be paid—
The thought of Waterloo !
Brood o’er that debt—oh France—no more:
Wipe out at length that bloody score :
’Tis paid—and nobly too.
Paid by the charity that runs
To clothe shamed England’s starving sons!
A PRESENT FOR THE CRIMEA.
We have sent out presents and hampers in profusion for our brave Army, and it
is time, we think, to consider what is the best hamper we can send out to the Russian
Army. If we had the packing of this hamper, we would have it to consist of—
1st, the very best Commander-in-Chief, that could be found in the kingdom ; 2nd,
of the very best Staff, that could be selected out of our military schools; 3rd,
of the very best Commissariat, that could be formed upon the French plan ; and
4th, of the very best troops, that could be spared out of the country. That is the
kind of hamper we should like to give the Russian Army, and we would warrant
that its contents would give every Cossack, the moment they attacked it, such a
jolly good bellyful, that they would never forget it as long as they lived—that is to
say, if they happened to survive it at all.
A Teetotal Waistcoat.
A Tailor somewhere in the north is trying to tack himself on to the teetotal
interest by advertising what he calls his “ alliance vest,” which he says is
“ particularly adapted for ministers and lecturers.” We canuot imagine any
peculiar cut in a waistcoat to adapt it to a teetotaller, and as to the quality of the
article, its best recommendation would consist in its being waterproof—an attribute
that the bosom of a Teetotaller would revolt against.
Arouse,— Oh England !—rouse for shame—
That this wrong may not be :
Enough of spoken, written blame—
Act, as befits the free !
Sweep hence this impotence of deed,
This helplessness, in direst need,
On either side the sea :
Or here—or there—raise up the man
Who knows, and, knowing, will and can.
Enough of Lords in name—find out
Him who is Lord in Act,
Clear brains, and undistraught with doubt,
Eyes to sift sham from fact.
Pluck forth thy hand from red-tape gyves,
To save thine honour, and their fives,
With cold and hunger racked.
Down with Routine, her modes and men—
That England be herself again !
SHOCKING SHIFTS OF BARRISTERS.
other day an old woman was charged
with pawning the shirts of a barrister.
We nse the word “ shirts ” advisedly in
the plural number, for if we are to believe
the statement of the pawnbroker, the
fact of a barrister having more than one
shirt to his back is not always to be
taken for granted. Some remark having
been made on the carelessness of the
pawnbroker in taking into pledge the
linen of a member of the English Bar, it
was urged in excuse that the barristers
are always pawning their shirts, and
other items of their wardrobe. We
know that business has been bad in
Westminster Hall, but we will not be-
lieve for one moment the monstrous asser-
tion that the English Bar is partially
supported by advances of an avuncular character. We have reason to know that
even Briefless would rather shed his last halfpenny than unbosom bimsell by
tearing off his shirt, and placing it in the hands ol a pawnbroker.
According to the unfair statement at Bow Street it would seem that the chief
practice of the Bar is derived from the practice of pledging its body linen. VYe
recommend a public meeting of the profession to hurl this calumny back at the
head of anybody and everybody who dares to give it currency, and we would pro-
pose that every barrister should rot only be served with notice to produce at least
half-a-dozen shirts, but should alto be called upon to pledge his honour that he is
not in the habit of pledging his wearing apparel.
CUE IN AH Y ENLISTMENT.
Judging from the letters which have recently been published, and which may,
doubtless, be received as letters of credit, we should think that “good plain
cooks” were never in so much demand as they are before Sebastopol just at present.
Eor want of proper knowledge and appliances, it seems our raw recruits have been
reduced to eat their rations in a similar condition, while the oldest campaigner has
found it rather difficult to dress a dinner for one without making a mess of it.
Indeed, one of “ our own correspondents ” last week, tells us:—
“ I shall scarcely exaggerate, I think, in saying that with the exception of their biscuit, the men
have been for weeks entirely living upon uncooked victuals. Through scarcity of fuel, and perfect
ignorance of cooking, to say nothing of the absence of all culinary apparatus, the beef and pork is
swallowed usually, just as it is served out, and in many cases, I have known even the coffee has
been eaten, without so much as being roasted.”
“Every man his own cook ” has, we know, been long the rule of the Service, but
we think it is high time for us to take exception to it. Its effect is simply to make
many do the work of one, which, to say the least, is bad economy of labour, and
indeed in culinary matters is proverbial for ill success. We own we have not
placed much faith, as yet, in the Eoreign Eulistment, but we believe the Service
would do well to enlist a few French Cooks into it. Let M. Soyer be empowered
at once to raise a Legion of them, and proceed forthwith to the Crimea with his
culinary corps. We are sure our Army would be much more strengthened by
getting, regularly, well-cooked food to eat, than by having any number of fresh
forces sent them, to become, in short time, as they now do, weaknesses. By having
their dinners well-dressed, our troops will doubtless be the better able to extend
that process to the enemy, and if we really mean to carry on the “ war to the
knife ” (and fork), we question if a better plan than this could be devised for
doing so.
WATERLOO AVENGED.
“ General Canrobert has placed at the disposal of Lord Ragt a
10,000 capotes, for the use of the English army in the Crimea. Te
thousand British soldiers now wear the French uniform.”
Correspondence from the Camp.
Long we had owned them noble foes,
Late we have owned them friends.
Knit by the brunt of equal blows.
Joint perils, common ends.
At Alma’s field of desperate fight.
On Inkermann’s blood-sodden height,
Twin laurels Victory blends—
No name so high on either side.
But France and England share the pride.
And if at length each English heart
With sudden shame is wrung—
If to each cheek the blushes start.
The curse to every tongue—
’Tis not to France we owe the shame,
The name we curse is no French name—
By our own sting we ’re stung.
Our own hands forged the untrusty sword,
That now in peril fails its Lord.
To bless French aid what man was slow
In counsel or in fray ?
Debts of the sword brave souls may owe,
For such debts they can pay.
But oh, the shame in England’s heart,
That she should play the beggar’s part,
Eor pauper dole should pray—
From France’s liberal hand should crave.
Raiment to shield her shivering brave !
And this, while proffering all her gold,
Opening her world-wide store ;
Ready to lavish sums uni old,
And these gone, to give more :
The means, that they who have fought and bled
May be well housed and clothed and fed,
She hath given—o’er and o’er :
But wits to plan and heads to guide
She lacks—and what is all beside ?
One memory, it hath been said,
Rankles each French heart through,
As of a debt that must be paid—
The thought of Waterloo !
Brood o’er that debt—oh France—no more:
Wipe out at length that bloody score :
’Tis paid—and nobly too.
Paid by the charity that runs
To clothe shamed England’s starving sons!
A PRESENT FOR THE CRIMEA.
We have sent out presents and hampers in profusion for our brave Army, and it
is time, we think, to consider what is the best hamper we can send out to the Russian
Army. If we had the packing of this hamper, we would have it to consist of—
1st, the very best Commander-in-Chief, that could be found in the kingdom ; 2nd,
of the very best Staff, that could be selected out of our military schools; 3rd,
of the very best Commissariat, that could be formed upon the French plan ; and
4th, of the very best troops, that could be spared out of the country. That is the
kind of hamper we should like to give the Russian Army, and we would warrant
that its contents would give every Cossack, the moment they attacked it, such a
jolly good bellyful, that they would never forget it as long as they lived—that is to
say, if they happened to survive it at all.
A Teetotal Waistcoat.
A Tailor somewhere in the north is trying to tack himself on to the teetotal
interest by advertising what he calls his “ alliance vest,” which he says is
“ particularly adapted for ministers and lecturers.” We canuot imagine any
peculiar cut in a waistcoat to adapt it to a teetotaller, and as to the quality of the
article, its best recommendation would consist in its being waterproof—an attribute
that the bosom of a Teetotaller would revolt against.
Arouse,— Oh England !—rouse for shame—
That this wrong may not be :
Enough of spoken, written blame—
Act, as befits the free !
Sweep hence this impotence of deed,
This helplessness, in direst need,
On either side the sea :
Or here—or there—raise up the man
Who knows, and, knowing, will and can.
Enough of Lords in name—find out
Him who is Lord in Act,
Clear brains, and undistraught with doubt,
Eyes to sift sham from fact.
Pluck forth thy hand from red-tape gyves,
To save thine honour, and their fives,
With cold and hunger racked.
Down with Routine, her modes and men—
That England be herself again !