DOI Heft:
September 13, 1856
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16618#0109
September 13, 1858.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 101
We have to deplore the loss of Gilbert Abbott a Beckett, whose genius has for more than
fifteen years been present in these pages ; present from the first sheer,, July 17th, 1841, until
August 30th, 1856. On that day passed from among us a genial, manly spirit ; singularly gifted
with the subtlest powers of wit and humour ; faculties ever exercised by their possessor to the
healthiest and most innocent purpose.
As a Magistrate, Gilbert a Beckett, by his wise, calm, humane administration of the law,
gave a daily rebuke to a too ready belief that the faithful exercise of the highest and gravest social
duties is incompatible with the sportiveness of literary genius. On the Bench, bis firmness, mode-
ration, and gentleness won him public respect, as they endeared him to all within their influence.
" His place knows him not," but his memory is tenderly cherished.
THE RIVER OF GOTHAM.
(How Old Gotham dealt with it, and Young Gotham proposed
to deal with it..)
Dedicated to the Members of the Refoi-matory Union.
In the wise land of Gotham a river there ran,
From its source on a bare mountain-side :
But a rillet it was when its course it began,
And it made its own bed, unassisted by man,
As deep as it chose, and as wide.
Other streams clubbed with this: many waters in one,
From the rocks and the hollows around,
Swelling, still, as it flowed, the young river dashed on,
Spreading, now, into marsh, chafed to torrent, anon,
But still cursing, not blessing, the ground.
While this sort of game in the mountain it plajed,
Gotham's wise men contentedly sat:
It was nothing to them what wild havoc it made,
How it wasted its waters, how spread, or how strayed;
They'd things graver to think of, than that.
But in time from the mountain it spread to the slopes.
Where man over nature holds sway,
Hedge or wall, ali in vain with the wild water copes ;
Some hill-Gothamite, daily, lamented his hopes
Of harvest or math swept away.
For the boulders and rubbish and gravel it rolled
From its hill-btd, at morn were spread there,
Where last even the sheep lay secure in the fold,
Where the oats in the sunshine waved yellowing gold,
All was ghastly and barren and bare.
So downwards it went: swoln or shrunk, in and out,
Swampirig fields, sweeping crops to the sea,
Leaving wide strong stretches of ruin about,
Till certain sage Gothamites ventured to doubt
If this sort of thing ought to be.
For the fields, they observed, are not far from the town,
And the river that ruins our ciops,
A breach in our walls may some day batter down,
Walk into the streets, and its ravages crown,
By invading our houses and shops.
" Something ought to be done," the Town Council declared :
And the question was, " What should be done ? "
First, a nice, new, straight bed for the stream they prepared:
But the next autumn rains, how all Gotham despaired
When the stream left their bed for its own !
They flung out all manner of carcass and groin,
To give the mad river a twist;
But in vain they s»nk labour and timber and coin :
In one rush the wild stream all its forces would join—
And what carcass or groin could resist ?
They tried dams; they tried weirs; they tried floodgates and drains
(Gotham's tax-payers settled the bill,)
Cogs, levers, and counterweights, pullits and cbainst
Mechanical triumphs of hand and of brains ;
But the stream, laughed to scorn all their skill.
Till some one then hint to the Town Council threw,
(Not a native of Gotham, of course;
Most in Gotham this notion were quick to pooh-pooh,)
" Since you can't tame the stream when it's got down to you,
Why not deal with it up at its source ? "
Loud and long were the scoffs and contemptuous the sneers,
On this wild proposition, bestowed ;
" We've worked on the stream at our doors all these years,
As our fathers before us, and Gotham adheres
To the old paths its ancestors trode! "
But the stranger persisted, unshaken and cool,
And at length a Young Gotham appeared,
Which profanely dares doubt if the famous old school
Has exhausted all wisdom, and laid down the rule
By which all after-times must be steered.
By the last news from Gotham we now understand,
That Youug Gotham has gone up the hill,
To the source of the stream that has ravaged the land,
With the new-fangled notion of turning their hand
From the river to deal with the rill.
THE MONEYED ORDER OF ORDERS.
A Curate, relating a case of "Clerical Distress" to the Editor of
the Times, says,
" i have received a letter from the Bishop of the diocese respecting the case of the
Essex curate. * * *
" The Bishop adds, ' i shall he glad of any pecuniary assistance he may receive.''
We don't, in this particular instance, understand the Bishop to
desire that auy pecuniary assistance received by the Essex Curate may
be handed over to himself; but perhaps there are some, of course very
few, Bishops, who would be glad of any money that anybody would
send them.
Cruel Inhumanity.—A Railway Clerk asking a sea-sick passenger,
if he is anxious for a return-ticket ?
We have to deplore the loss of Gilbert Abbott a Beckett, whose genius has for more than
fifteen years been present in these pages ; present from the first sheer,, July 17th, 1841, until
August 30th, 1856. On that day passed from among us a genial, manly spirit ; singularly gifted
with the subtlest powers of wit and humour ; faculties ever exercised by their possessor to the
healthiest and most innocent purpose.
As a Magistrate, Gilbert a Beckett, by his wise, calm, humane administration of the law,
gave a daily rebuke to a too ready belief that the faithful exercise of the highest and gravest social
duties is incompatible with the sportiveness of literary genius. On the Bench, bis firmness, mode-
ration, and gentleness won him public respect, as they endeared him to all within their influence.
" His place knows him not," but his memory is tenderly cherished.
THE RIVER OF GOTHAM.
(How Old Gotham dealt with it, and Young Gotham proposed
to deal with it..)
Dedicated to the Members of the Refoi-matory Union.
In the wise land of Gotham a river there ran,
From its source on a bare mountain-side :
But a rillet it was when its course it began,
And it made its own bed, unassisted by man,
As deep as it chose, and as wide.
Other streams clubbed with this: many waters in one,
From the rocks and the hollows around,
Swelling, still, as it flowed, the young river dashed on,
Spreading, now, into marsh, chafed to torrent, anon,
But still cursing, not blessing, the ground.
While this sort of game in the mountain it plajed,
Gotham's wise men contentedly sat:
It was nothing to them what wild havoc it made,
How it wasted its waters, how spread, or how strayed;
They'd things graver to think of, than that.
But in time from the mountain it spread to the slopes.
Where man over nature holds sway,
Hedge or wall, ali in vain with the wild water copes ;
Some hill-Gothamite, daily, lamented his hopes
Of harvest or math swept away.
For the boulders and rubbish and gravel it rolled
From its hill-btd, at morn were spread there,
Where last even the sheep lay secure in the fold,
Where the oats in the sunshine waved yellowing gold,
All was ghastly and barren and bare.
So downwards it went: swoln or shrunk, in and out,
Swampirig fields, sweeping crops to the sea,
Leaving wide strong stretches of ruin about,
Till certain sage Gothamites ventured to doubt
If this sort of thing ought to be.
For the fields, they observed, are not far from the town,
And the river that ruins our ciops,
A breach in our walls may some day batter down,
Walk into the streets, and its ravages crown,
By invading our houses and shops.
" Something ought to be done," the Town Council declared :
And the question was, " What should be done ? "
First, a nice, new, straight bed for the stream they prepared:
But the next autumn rains, how all Gotham despaired
When the stream left their bed for its own !
They flung out all manner of carcass and groin,
To give the mad river a twist;
But in vain they s»nk labour and timber and coin :
In one rush the wild stream all its forces would join—
And what carcass or groin could resist ?
They tried dams; they tried weirs; they tried floodgates and drains
(Gotham's tax-payers settled the bill,)
Cogs, levers, and counterweights, pullits and cbainst
Mechanical triumphs of hand and of brains ;
But the stream, laughed to scorn all their skill.
Till some one then hint to the Town Council threw,
(Not a native of Gotham, of course;
Most in Gotham this notion were quick to pooh-pooh,)
" Since you can't tame the stream when it's got down to you,
Why not deal with it up at its source ? "
Loud and long were the scoffs and contemptuous the sneers,
On this wild proposition, bestowed ;
" We've worked on the stream at our doors all these years,
As our fathers before us, and Gotham adheres
To the old paths its ancestors trode! "
But the stranger persisted, unshaken and cool,
And at length a Young Gotham appeared,
Which profanely dares doubt if the famous old school
Has exhausted all wisdom, and laid down the rule
By which all after-times must be steered.
By the last news from Gotham we now understand,
That Youug Gotham has gone up the hill,
To the source of the stream that has ravaged the land,
With the new-fangled notion of turning their hand
From the river to deal with the rill.
THE MONEYED ORDER OF ORDERS.
A Curate, relating a case of "Clerical Distress" to the Editor of
the Times, says,
" i have received a letter from the Bishop of the diocese respecting the case of the
Essex curate. * * *
" The Bishop adds, ' i shall he glad of any pecuniary assistance he may receive.''
We don't, in this particular instance, understand the Bishop to
desire that auy pecuniary assistance received by the Essex Curate may
be handed over to himself; but perhaps there are some, of course very
few, Bishops, who would be glad of any money that anybody would
send them.
Cruel Inhumanity.—A Railway Clerk asking a sea-sick passenger,
if he is anxious for a return-ticket ?