DOI issue:
November 12, 1859
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16864#0206
November 12, 1859.1 PUNCH, Oil THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
195
THE SHERIFFS SHORN OF THEIR GLORY.
E were sadly grieved to
hear that by a recent
Act of Parliament, the
Sheriffs of London and
Middlesex were exempt-
ed from the necessity of
counting hobnails and
chopping sticks on their
accession to office. Our
sorrow has been mate-
rially lessened by the
information that such
is not exactly the case.
The splendour of the
shrievalty has only been
shorn of this richly ab-
surd ceremonial as far
as regards the publicity
of its performance; but
that is a diminution of
civic dignity which is
very much more than
sufficiently melancholy.
The Sheriffs, up to this
present year, have al-
ways had to count six
horseshoes and certain
hobnails, and chop a
number of faggots, in
proof of their intellec-
tual and bodily ability,
in the Court of the
Exchequer, when they were presented by the Recorder to the presiding Judge. The Recorder
was accustomed to give the Judge an account of their antecedents, as if it were probable
that these might be low, and as if, at any rate, the Sheriffs were, presumably, remarkable
fellows to have raised themselves to the mere position of eligibility to their grand office. It
is supposed that the Sheriff was set upon a stool, first one Sheriff and then the other, and
that the Recorder described him to the Chief Baron by the help of a long pole, stirring him
up with the end thereof to demonstrate his
sensibility and animation. Then the Sheriffs
proved that they had the use of their intel-
lects and their hands ; and, after having been
solemnly chaffed by the learned Judge, went on
their way rejoicing in their honour and glory.
Now, this august exhibition is no longer to be
made in open Court. It is to fake place pri-
vately before officers appointed for the purpose.
In the presence of these witnesses the Sheriffs
are to chop sticks and count horseshoes as before,
to render suit and service on behalf of the City
for certain manors—it is pretended. This is ail
stuff; those feats of intelligence and dexterity
are retained, as they were originally prescribed,
for security that the Sheriffs shall not be abso-
lute idiots; as law and common opinion have
always supposed that there was great likelihood
of their being.
The Lord Mayor Elect is still exhibited by the
Recorder to the Lord Chancellor. Alderman
Carter the other day was thus showed up, with
a brief account of him, to Lord Campbell, at
Stratheden House; and received from the learned
and noble Lord the honour of a burlesque com-
plimentary address. This was as it should be;
but the privacy of the laughable self-exhibition
of the Sheriffs is to be deplored. The Sheriffs,
as well as the Aldermen and the Lord Mayor, of
the City of London, have always been expected,
if not naturally fools, to make fools of them-
selves in virtue of their office ; and few of them
have disappointed that expectation. The Civic
ingredient is the comic element in the British
Constitution, and cannot be eliminated from it
without danger to the integrity of that grand
fabric, the sublime effect of which is heightened
by its contrast with the ridiculous. Long may the
corbels of our old Cathedrals grin ; long may our
Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Sheriffs, contribute
to the mirth of merry England!
A NEW IDEE NAPOLEONIENNE.
Everybody knows that loyalty just now is in a rampant state in
France, and everybody therefore will easily believe that the height to
which it reaches in its rampant elevation proves, every now and then,
■to be the height of absurdity. As a case in point, we cite this inte-
resting paragraph, on which faute de mieux, sub-editors have lately
laid their scissors :—
“A Present of Turnips to the Emperor of the Fp.ench,—Hi tiller's Litho-
graphic Sheet gives the following curious letter, as having been addressed to the
Emperor Napoleon. It was detained at the Office for Examining Petitions to His
Majesty :—‘ Sir,—Being the possessor of a small property in the Beaujoles, favoured
by a good soil for wine and turnips, and on Wednesday, my wife having made us
a soup of these turnips, I found the taste so exquisite and so sweet, that the idea of
■our dear Emperor instantly occurred to me, and I said to my wife and my two sons,
‘ Their Majesties perhaps have not a better soup.’ Then a happy inspiration passed
through the mind of my eldest son, and he said, ‘ Father, you ought to send a cask 1
to their Majesties.’ Sire, we are giving effect to the idea. May the vegetables be
agreeable to you, and we shall esteem ourselves so fortunate to have procured you
that trifling pleasure. (We have more of them still.) I am, with the most profound
respect, Sire, your very humble and very devoted subject, P. Bolmont, Shirt-maker
at Koissay (Ain).’ This letter was followed by a second, in which B. Bolmont
prayed that his eldest son (he who had conceived such an excellent idea) might be
exempted from military service.”
The Office for Examining Petitions to the Emperor may be, and
doubtless is, a highly useful institution, and saves his Majesty no doubt
a vast amount of needless labour. Nevertheless, with all due deference
to those who have its management, we think that presents and
petitions such as those mentioned above, clearly ought to be allowed to
reach their destination. The examiners no doubt daily do the State
some service by opening and “ detaining ” suspicious-looking presents ;
and many an infernal machine directed “For the Emperor,” may by
such detention be kept from doing damage to him. But to detain a
gift so harmless as a cask of turnips savours to our mind of quite
unnecessary caution, and rather seems to indicate a relish for those
vegetables on the part of the official examiners themselves.
_ At all events, we think that, even were they justified in their deten-
tion of the present, there was obviously no reason why the letter which
came with it should not have reached the Emperor. It might have
been thought prudent not to let his Majesty have soup made of the
turnips, for fear they might be poisoned, or might disagree with him ;
but, we cannot see what harm the letter could have done him. On the
contrary, we think it would have given him great pleasure; especially
the passage where the writer naively says, that so sweet was the
| taste of the turnips in his mouth that “the idea of our dear Emperor
| instantly occurred to me.” The notion that a turnip should remind
one of the Emperor is quite a new idee Napoleonieme to think of, and
we feel assured his Majesty could not but have been flattered by it. _ j
There is yet one more reflection suggested by the paragraph, which
it may not be quite profitless just now for us to make. Old women (of j
both sexes) who next to talking scandal love to talk about invasion,
represent the French as panting, to a man, to be let loose on us, and
burning, every one of them, to make us feel their might. Now, if the
fears of these old ladies have not frightened them quite out of the
small wits they have been blessed with, they may derive some conso-
lation from the purport of the second of the letters above mentioned,
which may be fairly taken as a sample of French spirit, as throughout |
the country doubtless it is actually distilled. _ While French fathers do j
their best to get their sons exempt from service, it is clear their martial
spirit is anything but ardent: and while in Erance a soldier is esteemed j
of equal value to a cask of turnips, none surely but the turnip-headedest
of mortals need feel the slightest fear of Frenchmen risking lives so
precious by attempting to invade us.
SENATOR BRODERICK SLAIN BY CHIEE JUSTICE TERRY.
It was a noble Senator erect in Freedom’s cause,
A potent, grave, and honoured man to frame Columbia’s laws.
It was a yet more honoured one, a chief who held in trust
The rights, the liberties, the lives of kindred sons of dust.
That haughty high-souled Senator, that venerated Judge,
Had nursed between them daintily some paltry cause of grudge,
Till anger’s flame too clearly rose for such brave men to smother,
And New-World ethics now laid down that one must kill the other.
Forth from the stern Chief Justice then blood-craving missives sped ;
And Judge and Senator, or both, are numbered with the dead,
For gloating gossips said that if the bully Judge should fall,
Would fellow ruffians take his place, with “blood for blood ” their
call.
One after other, while the slain their vengeance would bequeath
. To monsters, such of old as sprung from Cadmus’ dragon’s teeth.
Oh ! blush Columbia, blush, for tales like this are types
Of savage deeds that ever blot your flaunting stars and stripes.
Senator Broderick sleeps in death, struck down by felon glaive,
And Justice Terry walks the earth CAiN-branded to his grave!
195
THE SHERIFFS SHORN OF THEIR GLORY.
E were sadly grieved to
hear that by a recent
Act of Parliament, the
Sheriffs of London and
Middlesex were exempt-
ed from the necessity of
counting hobnails and
chopping sticks on their
accession to office. Our
sorrow has been mate-
rially lessened by the
information that such
is not exactly the case.
The splendour of the
shrievalty has only been
shorn of this richly ab-
surd ceremonial as far
as regards the publicity
of its performance; but
that is a diminution of
civic dignity which is
very much more than
sufficiently melancholy.
The Sheriffs, up to this
present year, have al-
ways had to count six
horseshoes and certain
hobnails, and chop a
number of faggots, in
proof of their intellec-
tual and bodily ability,
in the Court of the
Exchequer, when they were presented by the Recorder to the presiding Judge. The Recorder
was accustomed to give the Judge an account of their antecedents, as if it were probable
that these might be low, and as if, at any rate, the Sheriffs were, presumably, remarkable
fellows to have raised themselves to the mere position of eligibility to their grand office. It
is supposed that the Sheriff was set upon a stool, first one Sheriff and then the other, and
that the Recorder described him to the Chief Baron by the help of a long pole, stirring him
up with the end thereof to demonstrate his
sensibility and animation. Then the Sheriffs
proved that they had the use of their intel-
lects and their hands ; and, after having been
solemnly chaffed by the learned Judge, went on
their way rejoicing in their honour and glory.
Now, this august exhibition is no longer to be
made in open Court. It is to fake place pri-
vately before officers appointed for the purpose.
In the presence of these witnesses the Sheriffs
are to chop sticks and count horseshoes as before,
to render suit and service on behalf of the City
for certain manors—it is pretended. This is ail
stuff; those feats of intelligence and dexterity
are retained, as they were originally prescribed,
for security that the Sheriffs shall not be abso-
lute idiots; as law and common opinion have
always supposed that there was great likelihood
of their being.
The Lord Mayor Elect is still exhibited by the
Recorder to the Lord Chancellor. Alderman
Carter the other day was thus showed up, with
a brief account of him, to Lord Campbell, at
Stratheden House; and received from the learned
and noble Lord the honour of a burlesque com-
plimentary address. This was as it should be;
but the privacy of the laughable self-exhibition
of the Sheriffs is to be deplored. The Sheriffs,
as well as the Aldermen and the Lord Mayor, of
the City of London, have always been expected,
if not naturally fools, to make fools of them-
selves in virtue of their office ; and few of them
have disappointed that expectation. The Civic
ingredient is the comic element in the British
Constitution, and cannot be eliminated from it
without danger to the integrity of that grand
fabric, the sublime effect of which is heightened
by its contrast with the ridiculous. Long may the
corbels of our old Cathedrals grin ; long may our
Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Sheriffs, contribute
to the mirth of merry England!
A NEW IDEE NAPOLEONIENNE.
Everybody knows that loyalty just now is in a rampant state in
France, and everybody therefore will easily believe that the height to
which it reaches in its rampant elevation proves, every now and then,
■to be the height of absurdity. As a case in point, we cite this inte-
resting paragraph, on which faute de mieux, sub-editors have lately
laid their scissors :—
“A Present of Turnips to the Emperor of the Fp.ench,—Hi tiller's Litho-
graphic Sheet gives the following curious letter, as having been addressed to the
Emperor Napoleon. It was detained at the Office for Examining Petitions to His
Majesty :—‘ Sir,—Being the possessor of a small property in the Beaujoles, favoured
by a good soil for wine and turnips, and on Wednesday, my wife having made us
a soup of these turnips, I found the taste so exquisite and so sweet, that the idea of
■our dear Emperor instantly occurred to me, and I said to my wife and my two sons,
‘ Their Majesties perhaps have not a better soup.’ Then a happy inspiration passed
through the mind of my eldest son, and he said, ‘ Father, you ought to send a cask 1
to their Majesties.’ Sire, we are giving effect to the idea. May the vegetables be
agreeable to you, and we shall esteem ourselves so fortunate to have procured you
that trifling pleasure. (We have more of them still.) I am, with the most profound
respect, Sire, your very humble and very devoted subject, P. Bolmont, Shirt-maker
at Koissay (Ain).’ This letter was followed by a second, in which B. Bolmont
prayed that his eldest son (he who had conceived such an excellent idea) might be
exempted from military service.”
The Office for Examining Petitions to the Emperor may be, and
doubtless is, a highly useful institution, and saves his Majesty no doubt
a vast amount of needless labour. Nevertheless, with all due deference
to those who have its management, we think that presents and
petitions such as those mentioned above, clearly ought to be allowed to
reach their destination. The examiners no doubt daily do the State
some service by opening and “ detaining ” suspicious-looking presents ;
and many an infernal machine directed “For the Emperor,” may by
such detention be kept from doing damage to him. But to detain a
gift so harmless as a cask of turnips savours to our mind of quite
unnecessary caution, and rather seems to indicate a relish for those
vegetables on the part of the official examiners themselves.
_ At all events, we think that, even were they justified in their deten-
tion of the present, there was obviously no reason why the letter which
came with it should not have reached the Emperor. It might have
been thought prudent not to let his Majesty have soup made of the
turnips, for fear they might be poisoned, or might disagree with him ;
but, we cannot see what harm the letter could have done him. On the
contrary, we think it would have given him great pleasure; especially
the passage where the writer naively says, that so sweet was the
| taste of the turnips in his mouth that “the idea of our dear Emperor
| instantly occurred to me.” The notion that a turnip should remind
one of the Emperor is quite a new idee Napoleonieme to think of, and
we feel assured his Majesty could not but have been flattered by it. _ j
There is yet one more reflection suggested by the paragraph, which
it may not be quite profitless just now for us to make. Old women (of j
both sexes) who next to talking scandal love to talk about invasion,
represent the French as panting, to a man, to be let loose on us, and
burning, every one of them, to make us feel their might. Now, if the
fears of these old ladies have not frightened them quite out of the
small wits they have been blessed with, they may derive some conso-
lation from the purport of the second of the letters above mentioned,
which may be fairly taken as a sample of French spirit, as throughout |
the country doubtless it is actually distilled. _ While French fathers do j
their best to get their sons exempt from service, it is clear their martial
spirit is anything but ardent: and while in Erance a soldier is esteemed j
of equal value to a cask of turnips, none surely but the turnip-headedest
of mortals need feel the slightest fear of Frenchmen risking lives so
precious by attempting to invade us.
SENATOR BRODERICK SLAIN BY CHIEE JUSTICE TERRY.
It was a noble Senator erect in Freedom’s cause,
A potent, grave, and honoured man to frame Columbia’s laws.
It was a yet more honoured one, a chief who held in trust
The rights, the liberties, the lives of kindred sons of dust.
That haughty high-souled Senator, that venerated Judge,
Had nursed between them daintily some paltry cause of grudge,
Till anger’s flame too clearly rose for such brave men to smother,
And New-World ethics now laid down that one must kill the other.
Forth from the stern Chief Justice then blood-craving missives sped ;
And Judge and Senator, or both, are numbered with the dead,
For gloating gossips said that if the bully Judge should fall,
Would fellow ruffians take his place, with “blood for blood ” their
call.
One after other, while the slain their vengeance would bequeath
. To monsters, such of old as sprung from Cadmus’ dragon’s teeth.
Oh ! blush Columbia, blush, for tales like this are types
Of savage deeds that ever blot your flaunting stars and stripes.
Senator Broderick sleeps in death, struck down by felon glaive,
And Justice Terry walks the earth CAiN-branded to his grave!