Punch (37.1859)

221

[December 3, 1859.

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

A VENERABLE AND A NON-VENERABLE BEDE

here was a pious as well
as celebrated old divine
named Richard Baxter,
whose death was as edify-
ing as his life, and w'hose
parting speeches to his sor-
rowing friends were justly
esteemed so admirable that
an excellent little bopk was
made of them, and it was
called Last Words of Richard j
Baxter. The book had an !
extraordinary success, so!
great that an ingenious
bookseller, whose name
may have been Newby for j
anything we know, con-
ceived the brilliant idea of j
profiting by the fame of the i
memorial volume. So, with j
the aid of some Grub Street j
scribe, he issued another
little volume (Mr. Panizzi
doubtless has it), and this
he entitled More Last Words of Richard Baxter.

There is an author of the present day (we will not, say an authoress,
firstly because there is no such word in the English language, and
secondly because Mr. Bunch does not know, in the way that gives him
a right to affirm, that Miss Evans is the writer of the most charming
novel of the year) who has written Adam Bede. It is not exactly
necessary for Mr. Bunch to signify his decided approbation of that
book, because it has been one of the Things of the year, and therefore
would have been at once assailed and demolished utterly from off the
face of the earth bv him, had he seen any reason for putting an end to
the admiration with which the tale has been received by all classes
whose good opinion should be coveted. Adam Bede is a first class
novel, and an ornament to English literature.

Now, there is one Thomas Cautley Newby, a publisher of books,
whose shop is situate in Welbeck Street. It need scarcely be
said that he was not the fortunate publisher of Adam Bede, seeing
that the novels which usually proceed from his shop are not those
to which the epithet “first class” rigidly appertains, but are, gene-
rally, if harmless in their way, not likely to cause a reader any
intense desire to read them twice, even if he succeed in reading
them once. When a humane person takes up a novel with Mr.
Newby’s name on the title page, it is to that gentleman’s credit that
his name evokes in the bosom of the humane party the gentle feeling
called Indulgence, and in this way Mr. Newby is a civiliser and refiner
of mankind, and deserves all laudation. Adam Bede came out of i
sterner hands, and is published by a Paternosteric firm, rather in the I
habit of considering how far a shrewd public will accord with it in its
opinion of a book, and consequently when the names of Messrs. Wm.
Blackwood & Co. are upon a volume, even the exacting and terrible
Mr. Bunch takes it up with a certainty that he shall be repaid for
bestowing upon it some of his golden minutes.

But Mr. Newby, upon whom the mantle of the paulo-post Baxterian
has alighted, does not see why something should not be doue by which
he may benefit from the notoriety attacking to the words Adam Bede.
So he announces a work without an author’s name (in imitation of the
other anonyme), and he calls it a Sequel to Adam Bede.

Well, as we do not knoic that the writer of Adam Bede has not aban-
doned the celebrated and liberal publishers of that book, and
deserted a house whose name gives a character to any book that bears
it, and that such writer has not suddenly transferred his or her talents
to the care of Mr. Newby, and enrolled himself or herself among
Mr. Newby’s band of debilities, we are unable to say that t he Sequel
is not by the original hand. And that ignorance—which of course is
shared by all who are not in the confidence of either Messrs. Black-
i wood, the Anonymous, or Mr. Newby—is, we understand, the
triumphant proposition urged by Mr. Newby as a reason why his
Sequel should be “subscribed” by the trade and read by the public.
“ llow do you know,” asks Mr. Newby, “that my book is not written
by the author of Adam Bede ? ”

And Mr. Bunch does not know. But if Mr. Bunch were to state his
opinion, which is based upon his estimate of the sort of party who
must have written Adam Bede, and upon a consideration of the other
facts of the case, Newby ism inclusive, he would certainly say that he
i believes the author of Adam Bede has never seen a single line of the
Sequel, and is as much disgusted with the tricky way in which it is
sought to gain notoriety for the latter work as are Mr. Bunch and all
other real admirers of literature and fair play. And, proceeding upon
the hypothesis that the writer of the novel and the writer of the Sequel
are two persons, Mr. Bunch would express in the blandest, but at the

same time the most distinct manner, his infinite contempt for the
order of mind that can stoop to seize the conceptions of another mind,
and make (in all probability clumsy) spoil of them, for the sake of
certain miserable shillings. But to touch upon the literary crime thus
committed would be to appeal to canons whereof such a writer can
never have heard. Mr. Bunch—arguing, of course, on the hypothesis
of there being two writers in the case—would only point out the
uncleanliness of the trick of trade.

Now, if Mr. Newby will come forward and state that the Sequel to
Adam Bede is by the author of the original novel, Mr. Bunch will also
come forward and retract, with extra gracefulness, all that he has said
on the subject. If Mr. Newby will not, why that gentleman must
rest content with having at last succeeded in publishing a book about
which the public talks. IIow it talks is beside the question.

A WORD WITH BROTHER JONATHAN.

BY BROTHER PUNCH.

Yankee Doodle whips the world
(’Specially the niggers),

Eor Progress and Enlightenment
Almighty tall he figgers :

But there’s a spot upon his sun
That Bunch can’t shut his eyes to,

’Tis that a word in lightest fun
A duel may give rise to.

0 Yankee Doodle, Doodle! do
Your rifle keep less handy :

And lay down your revolver too—

Eriend Bunch would fain command ye!

A Senator in Congress now,

A lawyer or physician.

Whoever haps to have a row,

Whate’er be his position,

In hot blood deems cold steel or lead
The means that row to settle,

And wdien his brother’s blood is shed.

Thinks he has shown his mettle.

O Yankee Doodle, Doodle! do
Your rifle keep less handy,

And lay down your revolver too :

Eriend Bunch would faiu command ye!

A bar’ster calls a judge a brute,

Straight, out come their revolvers :

In slightest wrangle or dispute
They’re deemed the only solvers.

Two doctors chance to disagree,

A deathbed while they stand by :

To show their skill, they fight until
Each falls the other’s hand by !

O Yankee Doodle, Doodle! do
Your rifle have less handy :

And give up your revolver too—

Erieud Bunch would fain command ye!

Americans ! these deeds disgrace
A free enlightened nation:

The scroll of Honour they deface,

Such blots are degradation.

To check by force—be this your course,

Eor this your wills be bauded :

Stern truth insists that duellists
As Murderers be branded !

Then, Yankee Doodle, Doodle ! do
Your rifle keep less handy;

And lay down your revolver too—

Let Bunch, let Law command ye !

Interesting to Baron Bramwell and Sir Peter Laurie.

From a curious old Blaclc-Utter volume in the British Museum.

“ If je Justice saietli or doeth a wytlesse or unryghtful thvnge, let
hym not stryve to serene his errour. Blounders on ye Benche are lyke
sea-coales, ye more you serene them ye bygger they looke.”—Mirrour
for Magistrantes.

A WAY IN BASINGIIALL STREET.

A Fraudulent Bankrupt generally adds to his other offences the
crime of perjury, and it is not to be wondered at, when we take into
consideration his great lie-abilities.