DOI issue:
December 1, 1855
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16616#0228
216
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[Be mber 1, 1855.
Second Swell. " Ah t Yes—uncomfortable, no doubt—wet, decidedly. It 's always the way with
those 1 would-be ' smart men ; they will sacrifice everything for the sake of appearance."
THE PRESENT LASS OE RICHMOND
HILL.
There was a Lass of Richmond Hill,
As nearly all folks know,
The praises of her charms would fill
A thickish folio;
No maid e'er saw so fair a face
But in the looking-glass;
That Hill will never, in her place,
See such another Lass.
Another Lass, who is not such,
The Hill of Richmond sees :
She dwelleth in a house not much
O'ershadow'd by the trees.
But from her windows since they shut
To some extent the view,
Down are those elm-trees to be cut
In number not a few.
And who are they, to please this Lass,
That mean those trees to fell ?
Some Beadles of the better class,
Whose names I need not tell.
The Parish vestrymen select;
The men for tasteless jobs.
And what but such can you expect
Erom such a set of snobs ?
These self-same snobs, some years gone by,
Ihese noble elms did lop,
Rearing their grand heads then so high,
Which crested that hill-top;
Now at their roots their axe they've laid
To gratify the will
Of this old Lass—or Wife—or Maid,
This Lass oe Richmond Hill.
WISEACRES ATiD FOOLS.
The following passage is quoted by the writer of Notes and Sketches
in the Morning Post from some other sage :—
" If the present rage for prostituting literature to the most casual purposes of tem-
porary amusement continues, we shall expect that as we have sliced up our novels
into shilling numbers, and boiled down our Blackstones aod our Njebithrs into
flabby hebdomadal drivel, we shall in process of time have a comic Prayer-Book and
a Bible in monthly parts, with illustrations by Phiz."
When shall we hear the last of the Comic Bible and Prayer-book ?
The original idea of those two publications was a very nice mild
pleasantry, of which the expense had to be defrayed by some unwise
fool, who had stupidly attempted to expose something venerable to
ridicule. But why do the platitudinarian censors of literature keep
calculating this joke in their little sphere, after the manner of Mr.
Pope's pigs in the satire? Well, perhaps, the racy morsel is rather
too strong for their mental digestion. They do not quite discern that
there is some little difference between themselves and their views on
the one hand, and the Bible and Prayer-book on the other; and that,
to exhibit the former in a ludicrous point of view, is not exactly the
same thing as to profane the latter.
If, in a wordy and windy essay, you were to tell these gentlemen, for
the millionth time, of the littleness of ambition, the vanity of earthly
glory, and the mutability of human affairs, they would gravely assent
to every word you said. But illustrate the littleness, expose the vanity,
show the mutability forth in its actual pettiness, and then they will
exclaim, that the next thing you will do, will be to write a Comic Bible
and Prayer-book.
All grave quacks, solemn impostors, and serious humbugs, in-
stinctively hate burlesque. They feel that they are the buffoon's
natural quarry. Hence their continual iteration of the idea of a Comic
Prayer-book and Bible, about to be published by their contemporary
tomfools.
The fact probably is, that the didactic dunces who sneer at second,
third, fourth, fifth-hand, about Comic Bibles and Prayer-books, are
simply disgusted with the circumstance, that their own platitudes are
not so marketable as other people's zanyisms. They have tales to tell
"full of sound and fury, signifying nothing;" and they are aggrieved
by finding that monthly and weekly serials are preferred by the public
to their own serious bosh. There is, perhaps, not one of them who
would not give six inches of each of his ears to make a successful pun.
The Early Closing Movement.—When two persons begin
; talking Shop," it is high time to put up the shutters.
THE PAINTER'S MEDAL.
Mb. Punch has nothing to say here about the judgment which has
been displayed in the award of the French medals to the English
artists. No doubt Sir Edwin Landseer (whom Mr. Punch abun-
dantly honours and admires, all hereinafter said notwithstanding)
received the great medal, because animal painting is considered m
France to be the grandest department of Art, and his being an old
friend of the Emperor's, and a favourite of the Emperor's gracious
Ally, in no way influenced the selection. It was simply this view of
Art that subordinated the painters of the Light of the World, Jeru-
salem, The Rescue, The Poet's Evening Walk, Bon Quixote, and the Last
Sleep of Argyll, to the painter of Prince Albeht's hat and gloves,
and the Queen's lovely cockatoo. Let all that pass.
But Mr. Punch must take leave to put it on record, that he humbly
protests against this calling together the first artists of the day—men who
have already made their mark, and had their position settled by the
world—to stand in a row, and be judged, comparatively, like schoolboys
in a class: That Master Thorburn is to take up Master Frith,
and Master Roberts is to take up Master Hunt, and Master
Landseer is to go up to the top, and Master Gibson is to stand out
of the class altogether: This style of treating eminent men, Mr. Punch
considers utterly unworthy.
He could quite understand the propriety of the piesentation of a
medal to every artist, in graceful recognition of his kindness in aiding
to form the wonderful collection just closed. But that a great artist
should receive a medal in token that the verdict of the world is con-
firmed by that of the judges in Paris, and that other great artists
should not receive it, or should be placed in a second, third, fourth, or
fifth class, implies a rehearing of claims to reputation, and such rehearing
is decidedly intolerable.
It is well that literary art was out of this affair. It would have been
a worthy sight to have seen our authors sending in their best works,
by invitation. Imagine Macaulay, Hallam, Alison, Tennyson,
Rogers, Browning, Dickens, Thackeray, Lytton, Carlyle,
Landor, Punch himself—selecting their choicest works and trans-
mitting them for judgment. And then imagine the judges deciding
that Mr. Punch was inferior to Mr. Carlyle, or Mr. Macaulay to
Mr. Alison, and that the great gold medal should be given to Mr.
Jesse (who nevertheless deserves better things than medals), because
he has written Anecdotes of Animals, and has lived—at Windsor.
This part ot the French Exhibition business is the only blemish upon
its geneial merit; and Mr. Punch mentions it, agreeing with the
Emperor himself, that in some cases " Silence is an Error."
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[Be mber 1, 1855.
Second Swell. " Ah t Yes—uncomfortable, no doubt—wet, decidedly. It 's always the way with
those 1 would-be ' smart men ; they will sacrifice everything for the sake of appearance."
THE PRESENT LASS OE RICHMOND
HILL.
There was a Lass of Richmond Hill,
As nearly all folks know,
The praises of her charms would fill
A thickish folio;
No maid e'er saw so fair a face
But in the looking-glass;
That Hill will never, in her place,
See such another Lass.
Another Lass, who is not such,
The Hill of Richmond sees :
She dwelleth in a house not much
O'ershadow'd by the trees.
But from her windows since they shut
To some extent the view,
Down are those elm-trees to be cut
In number not a few.
And who are they, to please this Lass,
That mean those trees to fell ?
Some Beadles of the better class,
Whose names I need not tell.
The Parish vestrymen select;
The men for tasteless jobs.
And what but such can you expect
Erom such a set of snobs ?
These self-same snobs, some years gone by,
Ihese noble elms did lop,
Rearing their grand heads then so high,
Which crested that hill-top;
Now at their roots their axe they've laid
To gratify the will
Of this old Lass—or Wife—or Maid,
This Lass oe Richmond Hill.
WISEACRES ATiD FOOLS.
The following passage is quoted by the writer of Notes and Sketches
in the Morning Post from some other sage :—
" If the present rage for prostituting literature to the most casual purposes of tem-
porary amusement continues, we shall expect that as we have sliced up our novels
into shilling numbers, and boiled down our Blackstones aod our Njebithrs into
flabby hebdomadal drivel, we shall in process of time have a comic Prayer-Book and
a Bible in monthly parts, with illustrations by Phiz."
When shall we hear the last of the Comic Bible and Prayer-book ?
The original idea of those two publications was a very nice mild
pleasantry, of which the expense had to be defrayed by some unwise
fool, who had stupidly attempted to expose something venerable to
ridicule. But why do the platitudinarian censors of literature keep
calculating this joke in their little sphere, after the manner of Mr.
Pope's pigs in the satire? Well, perhaps, the racy morsel is rather
too strong for their mental digestion. They do not quite discern that
there is some little difference between themselves and their views on
the one hand, and the Bible and Prayer-book on the other; and that,
to exhibit the former in a ludicrous point of view, is not exactly the
same thing as to profane the latter.
If, in a wordy and windy essay, you were to tell these gentlemen, for
the millionth time, of the littleness of ambition, the vanity of earthly
glory, and the mutability of human affairs, they would gravely assent
to every word you said. But illustrate the littleness, expose the vanity,
show the mutability forth in its actual pettiness, and then they will
exclaim, that the next thing you will do, will be to write a Comic Bible
and Prayer-book.
All grave quacks, solemn impostors, and serious humbugs, in-
stinctively hate burlesque. They feel that they are the buffoon's
natural quarry. Hence their continual iteration of the idea of a Comic
Prayer-book and Bible, about to be published by their contemporary
tomfools.
The fact probably is, that the didactic dunces who sneer at second,
third, fourth, fifth-hand, about Comic Bibles and Prayer-books, are
simply disgusted with the circumstance, that their own platitudes are
not so marketable as other people's zanyisms. They have tales to tell
"full of sound and fury, signifying nothing;" and they are aggrieved
by finding that monthly and weekly serials are preferred by the public
to their own serious bosh. There is, perhaps, not one of them who
would not give six inches of each of his ears to make a successful pun.
The Early Closing Movement.—When two persons begin
; talking Shop," it is high time to put up the shutters.
THE PAINTER'S MEDAL.
Mb. Punch has nothing to say here about the judgment which has
been displayed in the award of the French medals to the English
artists. No doubt Sir Edwin Landseer (whom Mr. Punch abun-
dantly honours and admires, all hereinafter said notwithstanding)
received the great medal, because animal painting is considered m
France to be the grandest department of Art, and his being an old
friend of the Emperor's, and a favourite of the Emperor's gracious
Ally, in no way influenced the selection. It was simply this view of
Art that subordinated the painters of the Light of the World, Jeru-
salem, The Rescue, The Poet's Evening Walk, Bon Quixote, and the Last
Sleep of Argyll, to the painter of Prince Albeht's hat and gloves,
and the Queen's lovely cockatoo. Let all that pass.
But Mr. Punch must take leave to put it on record, that he humbly
protests against this calling together the first artists of the day—men who
have already made their mark, and had their position settled by the
world—to stand in a row, and be judged, comparatively, like schoolboys
in a class: That Master Thorburn is to take up Master Frith,
and Master Roberts is to take up Master Hunt, and Master
Landseer is to go up to the top, and Master Gibson is to stand out
of the class altogether: This style of treating eminent men, Mr. Punch
considers utterly unworthy.
He could quite understand the propriety of the piesentation of a
medal to every artist, in graceful recognition of his kindness in aiding
to form the wonderful collection just closed. But that a great artist
should receive a medal in token that the verdict of the world is con-
firmed by that of the judges in Paris, and that other great artists
should not receive it, or should be placed in a second, third, fourth, or
fifth class, implies a rehearing of claims to reputation, and such rehearing
is decidedly intolerable.
It is well that literary art was out of this affair. It would have been
a worthy sight to have seen our authors sending in their best works,
by invitation. Imagine Macaulay, Hallam, Alison, Tennyson,
Rogers, Browning, Dickens, Thackeray, Lytton, Carlyle,
Landor, Punch himself—selecting their choicest works and trans-
mitting them for judgment. And then imagine the judges deciding
that Mr. Punch was inferior to Mr. Carlyle, or Mr. Macaulay to
Mr. Alison, and that the great gold medal should be given to Mr.
Jesse (who nevertheless deserves better things than medals), because
he has written Anecdotes of Animals, and has lived—at Windsor.
This part ot the French Exhibition business is the only blemish upon
its geneial merit; and Mr. Punch mentions it, agreeing with the
Emperor himself, that in some cases " Silence is an Error."