DOI issue:
August 27, 1859
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16864#0100
August 27, 1859.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 89
CUT FOR A CRITIC’S PENCIL.
nd for your reading and
writing, saith our friend
Dogberry, “ let that appear
when there is no occasion
for such vanity.”
Our friend the Athenceum,
thought by those who admire
it not (somewhat of a ma-
jority, but let that pass), to
be a sort of literary Dog-
berry, is faithful to the coun-
sel of its prototype.
One Daniel Maclise (a
name that hath been heard
of, though assuredly not
through any self-assertion
of its owner, singularly
ungifted with the instinct
that asks critics to dinner,
and with its pastry buys
their puffs) has for a couple
of years, or thereat, been
quietly accomplishing a mar-
vel in art. For the Royal
Gallery, in the Parliament
House, he has prepared a
work, vast in its actual size,
but a hundred times vaster
in its greatness of thought.
Wellington meets Blucher, date Waterloo. The cartoon for the fresco has
been set up, and the artists have visited it. And such has been their
honest, and hearty, and artist-like admiration, that Daniel come to
Judgment of his Peers has been received with a shout of applause, and
all the other men who make our Age of Art have taken Maclise cor-
dially by the hand and thanked him for his work. And though he was
not likely to forget those thanks, they placed in his studio a memorial
of their visit, a trifle in its price, a treasure in its purpose. Artists’
chalk is held in a kind of nippers, which the French very properly call
a Forte-Crayon, from porter to hold, and craie, chalk; and this, in gold,
the artists of England presented to Daniel Maclise, in memory of his
having shown them his noble cartoon.
There was none of the Testimonial quackery or vulgarity about it.
They did not keep a subscription list open at a banker’s, pledging
themselves that every man who subscribed should see his name in print.
They did not advertise a eulogy, and whip up contributors who, from
circumstances, dared not refuse money they grudged. They simply
went and bought the little thing, and made it a great one by what it
implied. And they did not even send the announcement of what they
had done to the Papers, seeing that Daniel Maclise has nothing to
gain by the applauding adjectives of penny-a-liners or the approving grin
of gobemouches.
Nevertheless, (for what deed is not now put into print ?) the fact
reached the Athenceum, and was duly engraven on its adamantine
columns. But inasmuch as it is the unhappiness of some folk that
they can never speak of a becoming action without a disparagement or
a sneer, the Athenceum was totally unable to say that the artists of
England had given Maclise a Forte-Crayon. The recording angel of
the Athenceum looked down from his altitudes, and gave a becoming
snub to painters who dared to act wdthout his leave. He poured upon
these audacious painters the bitter sarcasm of stating, that they had
acknowledged Mu. Maclise’s great merits by giving him a Pencil-
Case.
How they must writhe, Sin Edwin, and Stanfield, and David
Roberts, and Egg, and Creswick, and the rest of them. A Pencil-
Case ! Cieux ! you may notoriously buy that in albata for eightpence,
in silver for half a-crown, in gold for a few shillings more. A paltry
Pencil-Case ! Why, the mere subscriptions screwed out of the ballet-
girls give something better than that to a beloved manager. A Pencil-
Case ! As hath been said, how the painters must writhe !
Nay, somebody having taken the very superfluous trouble to set the
Athenceum right (or the latter stating that he had), the opportunity is
snatched (or made) for a second withering sneer. The Athenceum has
looked into the Dictionary, and insists that Forte-Crayon does mean a
Pencil-Case. Dogberry comes out with his reading and writing, and
refuses to be set right, happy to repeat his biting sarcasm. A Pencil-
Case—a lead pencil-case, for Dogberry sticks to the lead.
We all know what Dogberry desired to be written down. His desire
was unfulfilled. The Athenceum is happier, and happiest, (as in every
day life we all are,) in the happiness being self procured. A Forte-
Crayon is not a pencil-case in the ordinary use of language, any more
than Porte-manteau means a cloak-bearer. The word Forte-Crayon
means exactly what has been said, a nippers for chalk, and its being
called a pencil-case also means exactly what we have said; namely, that
the Athenceum wished to sneer at a graceful act of artist-homage, not
perceiving that had the present been a mere cure-dent (which the
Athenceum would probably have translated “ a dentist ”) or a couple of
wrist-studs, the homage would have been equally honouring, and that
the sarcasm is lost in the malice.
However, it is something that the Athenceum did not applaud the
homage, and bedaub it with epitketical plaudit, as loyal, and subtle,
and diivalresque, and goodly.
Finally, does anybody think that Mr. Punch would have condescended
to say a word about such small bosh, but for his being thus enabled to
add his subscription to the Forte-Crayon, by shouting ab imo pectore,
“ Well done, D. Maclise ! ” Does anybody r Ha! ha! ha!
REFORM YOUR CALENDAR.
Suggestion by a Sporthig M.P.
The sages who took to re-modelling France,
By their famed ’Ninety-two spick-and-span Constitution,
To a new tune thought fit to set Chronos his dance,
That the Calendar, too, might have its revolution.
For the old-fashioned names that the months long had borne,
From Rome’s gods and Rome’s numerals cobbled together,
More natural titles they vowed should be worn
From the crops of the year and the changes of weather.
Winter’s months should be “ Snowy” and “Rainy” and “Blowy; ”
And the Spring months be “Sprouty” and “Flowery” and“Leasy;” j
The Summer three, “ Harvesty,” “ Hot,” and “ Fruit-growy; ”
The Autumnal ones, “Yintagy,” “Foggy,” and “Freezy.”*
Now that fashions of France all so widely extend,
From her Crinolines down to her Omnibus system.
Why not our months’ heathenish titles amend.
And, like those French sages, to some meaning twist ’em ?
There’s August for instance—who cares for Augustus ?
Were’t not better re-christened “The month of the Grouse,”
In compliment due to the moor-fowl who thrust us
Hard-working M.P.s from the Parliament House ?
Then September—with Mantons and Eley’s wire cartridge,
And well-broken pointers the stubbles to range,—
Instead of seventh month, call it “month of the Partridge,”
And the whole sporting world will exult in the change.
And so with October: reminder how pleasant
Of delicate ro/i, and bloody battue.
Were the month but re-christened “ the month of the Pheasant,”
Instead of a name that means “ Eighth ” and ain’t true.
So methinks we might go the whole round of the seasons,
And christen the months by the sports that they boast;
So that all on their faces might carry the reasons
Why a man’s at his pleasure, and not at his post.
* Nivose, Pluviose, Ventose; Germinal, Flor^al, Prairial ; Messidor, Fervidor,
Fructidor; Vend£miaire, Brumaire, Frimaire.—See French Revolutionary Calendar.
THE PATRON OF PERUKE-MAKERS.
According to a letter from Berlin, dated August 15:—
“ To-day being the fete of the Emperor, Napoleon the Third, the Members of the
French Embassy were present at divine service in St. Heel wig’s Church.”
Who was Saint Iledwig? An English Saint, no doubt, who mi-
grated to Prussia, where his proper name came, in the course of time,
to be spelt rather improperly. Headwig, no doubt, was its genuine
original orthography. Tliis honest English Saint probably derived his
name from the good old sensible wig that he used to wear, instead of
going about, like too many other Saints so _ called, with _ his head
shaved, and a sort of appearance like Saturn’s ring around it instead of
a hat.
Guy's Geography.
Gentleman. Can you direct me, if you please, fo Kew Green ?
Young Guy. I’m very sorry I cannot; but as you have asked me,
I should say that, looking at the colour of chances, it was highly
probable that you would find Kew Green was the one that imme-
diately followed Pea Green.
What is the Curate’s Hope?—For-Lawn.
CUT FOR A CRITIC’S PENCIL.
nd for your reading and
writing, saith our friend
Dogberry, “ let that appear
when there is no occasion
for such vanity.”
Our friend the Athenceum,
thought by those who admire
it not (somewhat of a ma-
jority, but let that pass), to
be a sort of literary Dog-
berry, is faithful to the coun-
sel of its prototype.
One Daniel Maclise (a
name that hath been heard
of, though assuredly not
through any self-assertion
of its owner, singularly
ungifted with the instinct
that asks critics to dinner,
and with its pastry buys
their puffs) has for a couple
of years, or thereat, been
quietly accomplishing a mar-
vel in art. For the Royal
Gallery, in the Parliament
House, he has prepared a
work, vast in its actual size,
but a hundred times vaster
in its greatness of thought.
Wellington meets Blucher, date Waterloo. The cartoon for the fresco has
been set up, and the artists have visited it. And such has been their
honest, and hearty, and artist-like admiration, that Daniel come to
Judgment of his Peers has been received with a shout of applause, and
all the other men who make our Age of Art have taken Maclise cor-
dially by the hand and thanked him for his work. And though he was
not likely to forget those thanks, they placed in his studio a memorial
of their visit, a trifle in its price, a treasure in its purpose. Artists’
chalk is held in a kind of nippers, which the French very properly call
a Forte-Crayon, from porter to hold, and craie, chalk; and this, in gold,
the artists of England presented to Daniel Maclise, in memory of his
having shown them his noble cartoon.
There was none of the Testimonial quackery or vulgarity about it.
They did not keep a subscription list open at a banker’s, pledging
themselves that every man who subscribed should see his name in print.
They did not advertise a eulogy, and whip up contributors who, from
circumstances, dared not refuse money they grudged. They simply
went and bought the little thing, and made it a great one by what it
implied. And they did not even send the announcement of what they
had done to the Papers, seeing that Daniel Maclise has nothing to
gain by the applauding adjectives of penny-a-liners or the approving grin
of gobemouches.
Nevertheless, (for what deed is not now put into print ?) the fact
reached the Athenceum, and was duly engraven on its adamantine
columns. But inasmuch as it is the unhappiness of some folk that
they can never speak of a becoming action without a disparagement or
a sneer, the Athenceum was totally unable to say that the artists of
England had given Maclise a Forte-Crayon. The recording angel of
the Athenceum looked down from his altitudes, and gave a becoming
snub to painters who dared to act wdthout his leave. He poured upon
these audacious painters the bitter sarcasm of stating, that they had
acknowledged Mu. Maclise’s great merits by giving him a Pencil-
Case.
How they must writhe, Sin Edwin, and Stanfield, and David
Roberts, and Egg, and Creswick, and the rest of them. A Pencil-
Case ! Cieux ! you may notoriously buy that in albata for eightpence,
in silver for half a-crown, in gold for a few shillings more. A paltry
Pencil-Case ! Why, the mere subscriptions screwed out of the ballet-
girls give something better than that to a beloved manager. A Pencil-
Case ! As hath been said, how the painters must writhe !
Nay, somebody having taken the very superfluous trouble to set the
Athenceum right (or the latter stating that he had), the opportunity is
snatched (or made) for a second withering sneer. The Athenceum has
looked into the Dictionary, and insists that Forte-Crayon does mean a
Pencil-Case. Dogberry comes out with his reading and writing, and
refuses to be set right, happy to repeat his biting sarcasm. A Pencil-
Case—a lead pencil-case, for Dogberry sticks to the lead.
We all know what Dogberry desired to be written down. His desire
was unfulfilled. The Athenceum is happier, and happiest, (as in every
day life we all are,) in the happiness being self procured. A Forte-
Crayon is not a pencil-case in the ordinary use of language, any more
than Porte-manteau means a cloak-bearer. The word Forte-Crayon
means exactly what has been said, a nippers for chalk, and its being
called a pencil-case also means exactly what we have said; namely, that
the Athenceum wished to sneer at a graceful act of artist-homage, not
perceiving that had the present been a mere cure-dent (which the
Athenceum would probably have translated “ a dentist ”) or a couple of
wrist-studs, the homage would have been equally honouring, and that
the sarcasm is lost in the malice.
However, it is something that the Athenceum did not applaud the
homage, and bedaub it with epitketical plaudit, as loyal, and subtle,
and diivalresque, and goodly.
Finally, does anybody think that Mr. Punch would have condescended
to say a word about such small bosh, but for his being thus enabled to
add his subscription to the Forte-Crayon, by shouting ab imo pectore,
“ Well done, D. Maclise ! ” Does anybody r Ha! ha! ha!
REFORM YOUR CALENDAR.
Suggestion by a Sporthig M.P.
The sages who took to re-modelling France,
By their famed ’Ninety-two spick-and-span Constitution,
To a new tune thought fit to set Chronos his dance,
That the Calendar, too, might have its revolution.
For the old-fashioned names that the months long had borne,
From Rome’s gods and Rome’s numerals cobbled together,
More natural titles they vowed should be worn
From the crops of the year and the changes of weather.
Winter’s months should be “ Snowy” and “Rainy” and “Blowy; ”
And the Spring months be “Sprouty” and “Flowery” and“Leasy;” j
The Summer three, “ Harvesty,” “ Hot,” and “ Fruit-growy; ”
The Autumnal ones, “Yintagy,” “Foggy,” and “Freezy.”*
Now that fashions of France all so widely extend,
From her Crinolines down to her Omnibus system.
Why not our months’ heathenish titles amend.
And, like those French sages, to some meaning twist ’em ?
There’s August for instance—who cares for Augustus ?
Were’t not better re-christened “The month of the Grouse,”
In compliment due to the moor-fowl who thrust us
Hard-working M.P.s from the Parliament House ?
Then September—with Mantons and Eley’s wire cartridge,
And well-broken pointers the stubbles to range,—
Instead of seventh month, call it “month of the Partridge,”
And the whole sporting world will exult in the change.
And so with October: reminder how pleasant
Of delicate ro/i, and bloody battue.
Were the month but re-christened “ the month of the Pheasant,”
Instead of a name that means “ Eighth ” and ain’t true.
So methinks we might go the whole round of the seasons,
And christen the months by the sports that they boast;
So that all on their faces might carry the reasons
Why a man’s at his pleasure, and not at his post.
* Nivose, Pluviose, Ventose; Germinal, Flor^al, Prairial ; Messidor, Fervidor,
Fructidor; Vend£miaire, Brumaire, Frimaire.—See French Revolutionary Calendar.
THE PATRON OF PERUKE-MAKERS.
According to a letter from Berlin, dated August 15:—
“ To-day being the fete of the Emperor, Napoleon the Third, the Members of the
French Embassy were present at divine service in St. Heel wig’s Church.”
Who was Saint Iledwig? An English Saint, no doubt, who mi-
grated to Prussia, where his proper name came, in the course of time,
to be spelt rather improperly. Headwig, no doubt, was its genuine
original orthography. Tliis honest English Saint probably derived his
name from the good old sensible wig that he used to wear, instead of
going about, like too many other Saints so _ called, with _ his head
shaved, and a sort of appearance like Saturn’s ring around it instead of
a hat.
Guy's Geography.
Gentleman. Can you direct me, if you please, fo Kew Green ?
Young Guy. I’m very sorry I cannot; but as you have asked me,
I should say that, looking at the colour of chances, it was highly
probable that you would find Kew Green was the one that imme-
diately followed Pea Green.
What is the Curate’s Hope?—For-Lawn.