DOI Heft:
June 28, 1862
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16869#0262
254
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[June 28, 1862.
IS THE PRESS BRIBED?
UNCH is not very anxious to
waste liis valuable time and
his invaluable space upon
ephemeral topics, but upon
consideration resolves to
sacrifice fractions of each in
order to promote a little
inquiry, the result whereof
may he beneficial in the time
to come.
There has been more dis-
cussion about the eating and
drinking at the Kensington
Show than about any article
there exhibited. A stranger
who should read the news-
papers, would think that we
had been erecting a great
tavern, that naturally our
first thought was for the
kitchen and the cellar, but
that in order to attract cus-
tomers, we had stuck in
some interesting objects, and
hung some pictures on the
walls. However, this is the
Englishman’s way, lie cares
for little in the way of amuse-
ment unless he can somehow
connect it with eating and
drinking, and it is too late in
the day to find fault with that part of his aesthetics. He, moreover,
likes good eating and drinking, and does not grudge his money for the
same, though he grumbles when cheated too coarsely.
It was of the utmost consequence to the persons who took the Re-
freshment Contracts at the Kensington Show that Bull, to say nothing
of O’Paddy, M'Sandy, and Leeks, should believe that the eatables
and drinkables there sold were of an excellent description, and sold at a
reasonable price. Whether they are or are not, Mr. Bunch has not the
faintest idea, as he never tak.es anything between breakfast and dinner,
and dines in Grosvenor Square at 8 p.m. Some people tell him that
the things are “not bad,” some say the wines are anything but what
they ought to be, some affirm that the waiters are civil and honest, while
others allege that they are careless and cheats, and he should be inclined
to think—were the matter worth his serene attention—that the whole
business is a little of the Scramble kind, and that you may do tolerably
well, if you have tolerance and good luck.
But it was not in human nature that the Contractors should desire that
the stern, HALLAM-like judgment, into which Mr. Bunch hath just
condensed his convictions should go forth to the million. It was highly
desirable, and in the interest of business, that Bull. O’Paddy,
M‘Sandy, and Leeks should be tempted to the Refreshments, and
should be incited to bring their wives and children. And inasmuch as no-
body believois newspaper advertisements, while everybody believes news-
paper paragraphs, it was held desirable that the gentlemen who are
supposed to write newspaper paragraphs should have the most favourable
opportunity of comprehending the merits of the Refreshment Depart-
ment. Mr. Bunch is informed—he has never seen the arrangement in
question—that a “Press Table” has been instituted, and that whatever
the public may get, at that Table at all events the cookery is admirable,
and the wanes are—or are in the judgment of the partakers thereof—
unexceptionable.
Well, a good many gentlemen who write paragraphs spoke of things
as they found them (which the song recommends us all to do), and did
not speak of what they did not know (as becomes wise men), and there
have appeared a great number of paragraphs in which praises of the
Refreshments have been enthusiastically emitted, and Bull, O’Paddy,
M'Sandy, and Leeks have been assured that the arrangements are
first-rate.
Had this been all, Mr. Bunch might have had nothing to say. It
would have been an illustration of Humbug, but not of humbug worth
his baton.
But it hath been alleged that sundry gentlemen who write paragraphs
do not only eat and drink at the “Press Table,” but do accept their
meals and pay nothing. That, in fact they are “treated” by the pro-
prietory, and fare sumptuously, the inference being, that in return for
such hospitality, flattering and valuable paragraphs are composed.
The charge was felt to be one of Bribery, and a sensation was
created, and strong words were written down, and much good indigna-
tion was expressed, in many cases, no doubt, honestly. But the charge
remained general, until it seemed good unto the Morning Star to desig-
nate one individual as the offender. Him did the Star biographise,
giving a noways laudatory history of him, and accusing him of being an
Irishman, and of other offences. After a time, somebody who believes
himself to be the person described, though not named, comes forth with
a terrifically long letter, in which he takes his own view of his history.
It is not a savoury one, but Mr. Bunch is no analyser of such narratives.
The only important part of this person’s statement is that which follows
his avowal of his own acceptance of gratis food, which he says he has
eaten “five times on the French side, often on the English side, but
n«t wholly as a member of the Press Proper ” (whatever the evasive
jargon means)—
“ I have frequently—very frequently—dined at the English side ; twice with
small parties who were not paid lor, but for whom a previous consent had been
obtained; other times with other parties, who, to my knowledge, were paid for at
the regulated tariff, I alone exercising the privilege which had been accorded me ;
not wholly as a member of the press proper, but on other and distinct grounds to
which it is not necessary here to refer. Let it be understood that the privilege was
given me in common with many other members of the press—that I have done less
in exercise of this privilege than many of high position whom I could name. . . .
These are facts known to all concerned. I ask, therefore, why am I singled out for
attack ? Is the metropolitan press so unjust that to save itself from reproach—if |
reproach be due—it seeks to make a scapegoat of a provincial editor, and save its [
own character at the expense of that of a stranger ? I do not wish to be personal.
. . . . Else I might name names in connection with this matter that would I
make people stare at the virtuous indignation so suddenly evoked. Since March or j
February the system of press dinners at the Exhibition has been in practice—why j
is the immorality of the system only discovered in June, and then only in connec- j
tion wit-h one who has scarcely used the privilege in right of the press ? Why, if J
there be immorality in the system, did so many partake of the grand, banquet given j
a month ago?”
There ! The man signs his name to what he writes—we have no am- j
bition to add to his fame, so we do not append the distinguished syl- j
tables—but there is his statement, made, as regards himself, with
evident and almost ludicrous unconsciousness that he is owning to dirty
and dishonest conduct. But he makes a calm and deliberate charge
against others, and it is for the honour of Journalism that this person
should be shown to be what Mr. Bunch desires to believe him in regard
to this matter—namely, one who knowingly makes unfounded state-
ments. There is a shorter way of putting it, which Mr. Bunch will ]
employ when the refutation is made.
MOTHER POPE’S ALLOCUTION.
On Washing Day last old Mas. Pope the Fishwoman, calling herself
successor to the Fisherman, delivered a talking-to, or Allocution, from
her stall to a couple of Monarchs who have incurred her displeasure, j
It will perhaps be considered that Objurgation rather than Allocution
is the title properly applicable to this discourse ; which ran as follows :
—“ Sacrilegious Sovereigns. The malice which inspired a Neko, a ]
Diocletian, and a Julian the Apostate does not cease to inflame j
the persecutors of the Clair of Petek, and especially you two. Our
heart is full of bitterness, and so is our liver, all owing to your never-
before-heard-of atrocity, Eructavit cor meum, et feroens dijjicili bile
tumet jecur. So, then, what can you expect at our mouth 1 Bee vobis,
maledicti! Contemners of all law, human and divine, enemies of
heaven, spoilers and violators of the Holy; Stall—We ’ve no patience with
you. Bah, scelerati latrones ! You impious wretches, you vile sinners, j
you wicked good-for-nothing. Princes. Where do you expect to go to,
when you question our temporal supremacy regardless of the immortality j
of the soul ? Reviving monstrous portents of exploded errors ; exe-
crable, pernicious, detestable, diabolical heresies, you trample all
right ana justice under your feet. There isn’t a pin to choose between
you. Arcades ambo ; non est in vobis sanitas.
“ As for you, Louis, we don’t thank you a bit for your pretence of !
protecting us. You’d betray us this moment, you Judas, if it wasn’t
that you daren’t defy our faithful priests and bishops, for you know it’s
as much as your crown’s worth. Mind what your Missus tells you,
and give us back what you’ve allowed that fellow to prig. You call
yourself the eldest son of the Church! Look at you brother there ; you
are both children of old Hakky. Abandoned reprobates. Go along I
with you! Badite retro, Sat anas et Beelzebub. Get out! Apagete a
dorso meo. Bad luck to you!—unless you repent and make restitution,
you unprincipled usurpers, you heretics, you schismatics, you con-
founded abominable hypocrites. Anathema maranatha. Biat, fiat,
fiat. Amen ! ”
It is whispered that if Mks. Pope is obliged to remove her stall from |
the Eternal City, she will transfer it to Billingsgate.
“ Bar Bar, Black Sheep.”
That eminent transatlantic lawyer, Mil Edwin James, complains
that in England he was under the cold shade of aristocracy. Con
sidering “the strictly private transaction,” as he calls it, by which lie
transferred a trifle of £30,000 or thereabouts from the pockets of one of
that aristocracy to his own, we have no difficulty in admitting that there
was a “coolness” as well as a “shadiness” about his dealings with
the British aristocracy. “The strictly private transaction” was pre-
cisely one of those “ plants ” which flourish best in the shade.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[June 28, 1862.
IS THE PRESS BRIBED?
UNCH is not very anxious to
waste liis valuable time and
his invaluable space upon
ephemeral topics, but upon
consideration resolves to
sacrifice fractions of each in
order to promote a little
inquiry, the result whereof
may he beneficial in the time
to come.
There has been more dis-
cussion about the eating and
drinking at the Kensington
Show than about any article
there exhibited. A stranger
who should read the news-
papers, would think that we
had been erecting a great
tavern, that naturally our
first thought was for the
kitchen and the cellar, but
that in order to attract cus-
tomers, we had stuck in
some interesting objects, and
hung some pictures on the
walls. However, this is the
Englishman’s way, lie cares
for little in the way of amuse-
ment unless he can somehow
connect it with eating and
drinking, and it is too late in
the day to find fault with that part of his aesthetics. He, moreover,
likes good eating and drinking, and does not grudge his money for the
same, though he grumbles when cheated too coarsely.
It was of the utmost consequence to the persons who took the Re-
freshment Contracts at the Kensington Show that Bull, to say nothing
of O’Paddy, M'Sandy, and Leeks, should believe that the eatables
and drinkables there sold were of an excellent description, and sold at a
reasonable price. Whether they are or are not, Mr. Bunch has not the
faintest idea, as he never tak.es anything between breakfast and dinner,
and dines in Grosvenor Square at 8 p.m. Some people tell him that
the things are “not bad,” some say the wines are anything but what
they ought to be, some affirm that the waiters are civil and honest, while
others allege that they are careless and cheats, and he should be inclined
to think—were the matter worth his serene attention—that the whole
business is a little of the Scramble kind, and that you may do tolerably
well, if you have tolerance and good luck.
But it was not in human nature that the Contractors should desire that
the stern, HALLAM-like judgment, into which Mr. Bunch hath just
condensed his convictions should go forth to the million. It was highly
desirable, and in the interest of business, that Bull. O’Paddy,
M‘Sandy, and Leeks should be tempted to the Refreshments, and
should be incited to bring their wives and children. And inasmuch as no-
body believois newspaper advertisements, while everybody believes news-
paper paragraphs, it was held desirable that the gentlemen who are
supposed to write newspaper paragraphs should have the most favourable
opportunity of comprehending the merits of the Refreshment Depart-
ment. Mr. Bunch is informed—he has never seen the arrangement in
question—that a “Press Table” has been instituted, and that whatever
the public may get, at that Table at all events the cookery is admirable,
and the wanes are—or are in the judgment of the partakers thereof—
unexceptionable.
Well, a good many gentlemen who write paragraphs spoke of things
as they found them (which the song recommends us all to do), and did
not speak of what they did not know (as becomes wise men), and there
have appeared a great number of paragraphs in which praises of the
Refreshments have been enthusiastically emitted, and Bull, O’Paddy,
M'Sandy, and Leeks have been assured that the arrangements are
first-rate.
Had this been all, Mr. Bunch might have had nothing to say. It
would have been an illustration of Humbug, but not of humbug worth
his baton.
But it hath been alleged that sundry gentlemen who write paragraphs
do not only eat and drink at the “Press Table,” but do accept their
meals and pay nothing. That, in fact they are “treated” by the pro-
prietory, and fare sumptuously, the inference being, that in return for
such hospitality, flattering and valuable paragraphs are composed.
The charge was felt to be one of Bribery, and a sensation was
created, and strong words were written down, and much good indigna-
tion was expressed, in many cases, no doubt, honestly. But the charge
remained general, until it seemed good unto the Morning Star to desig-
nate one individual as the offender. Him did the Star biographise,
giving a noways laudatory history of him, and accusing him of being an
Irishman, and of other offences. After a time, somebody who believes
himself to be the person described, though not named, comes forth with
a terrifically long letter, in which he takes his own view of his history.
It is not a savoury one, but Mr. Bunch is no analyser of such narratives.
The only important part of this person’s statement is that which follows
his avowal of his own acceptance of gratis food, which he says he has
eaten “five times on the French side, often on the English side, but
n«t wholly as a member of the Press Proper ” (whatever the evasive
jargon means)—
“ I have frequently—very frequently—dined at the English side ; twice with
small parties who were not paid lor, but for whom a previous consent had been
obtained; other times with other parties, who, to my knowledge, were paid for at
the regulated tariff, I alone exercising the privilege which had been accorded me ;
not wholly as a member of the press proper, but on other and distinct grounds to
which it is not necessary here to refer. Let it be understood that the privilege was
given me in common with many other members of the press—that I have done less
in exercise of this privilege than many of high position whom I could name. . . .
These are facts known to all concerned. I ask, therefore, why am I singled out for
attack ? Is the metropolitan press so unjust that to save itself from reproach—if |
reproach be due—it seeks to make a scapegoat of a provincial editor, and save its [
own character at the expense of that of a stranger ? I do not wish to be personal.
. . . . Else I might name names in connection with this matter that would I
make people stare at the virtuous indignation so suddenly evoked. Since March or j
February the system of press dinners at the Exhibition has been in practice—why j
is the immorality of the system only discovered in June, and then only in connec- j
tion wit-h one who has scarcely used the privilege in right of the press ? Why, if J
there be immorality in the system, did so many partake of the grand, banquet given j
a month ago?”
There ! The man signs his name to what he writes—we have no am- j
bition to add to his fame, so we do not append the distinguished syl- j
tables—but there is his statement, made, as regards himself, with
evident and almost ludicrous unconsciousness that he is owning to dirty
and dishonest conduct. But he makes a calm and deliberate charge
against others, and it is for the honour of Journalism that this person
should be shown to be what Mr. Bunch desires to believe him in regard
to this matter—namely, one who knowingly makes unfounded state-
ments. There is a shorter way of putting it, which Mr. Bunch will ]
employ when the refutation is made.
MOTHER POPE’S ALLOCUTION.
On Washing Day last old Mas. Pope the Fishwoman, calling herself
successor to the Fisherman, delivered a talking-to, or Allocution, from
her stall to a couple of Monarchs who have incurred her displeasure, j
It will perhaps be considered that Objurgation rather than Allocution
is the title properly applicable to this discourse ; which ran as follows :
—“ Sacrilegious Sovereigns. The malice which inspired a Neko, a ]
Diocletian, and a Julian the Apostate does not cease to inflame j
the persecutors of the Clair of Petek, and especially you two. Our
heart is full of bitterness, and so is our liver, all owing to your never-
before-heard-of atrocity, Eructavit cor meum, et feroens dijjicili bile
tumet jecur. So, then, what can you expect at our mouth 1 Bee vobis,
maledicti! Contemners of all law, human and divine, enemies of
heaven, spoilers and violators of the Holy; Stall—We ’ve no patience with
you. Bah, scelerati latrones ! You impious wretches, you vile sinners, j
you wicked good-for-nothing. Princes. Where do you expect to go to,
when you question our temporal supremacy regardless of the immortality j
of the soul ? Reviving monstrous portents of exploded errors ; exe-
crable, pernicious, detestable, diabolical heresies, you trample all
right ana justice under your feet. There isn’t a pin to choose between
you. Arcades ambo ; non est in vobis sanitas.
“ As for you, Louis, we don’t thank you a bit for your pretence of !
protecting us. You’d betray us this moment, you Judas, if it wasn’t
that you daren’t defy our faithful priests and bishops, for you know it’s
as much as your crown’s worth. Mind what your Missus tells you,
and give us back what you’ve allowed that fellow to prig. You call
yourself the eldest son of the Church! Look at you brother there ; you
are both children of old Hakky. Abandoned reprobates. Go along I
with you! Badite retro, Sat anas et Beelzebub. Get out! Apagete a
dorso meo. Bad luck to you!—unless you repent and make restitution,
you unprincipled usurpers, you heretics, you schismatics, you con-
founded abominable hypocrites. Anathema maranatha. Biat, fiat,
fiat. Amen ! ”
It is whispered that if Mks. Pope is obliged to remove her stall from |
the Eternal City, she will transfer it to Billingsgate.
“ Bar Bar, Black Sheep.”
That eminent transatlantic lawyer, Mil Edwin James, complains
that in England he was under the cold shade of aristocracy. Con
sidering “the strictly private transaction,” as he calls it, by which lie
transferred a trifle of £30,000 or thereabouts from the pockets of one of
that aristocracy to his own, we have no difficulty in admitting that there
was a “coolness” as well as a “shadiness” about his dealings with
the British aristocracy. “The strictly private transaction” was pre-
cisely one of those “ plants ” which flourish best in the shade.