June 14, 1862.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

239

A BITTER EDINBURGH BAILIE.

D the Edinburgh Town Council,
the other day, according to
the Scotsman, the Lord Pro-
vost of Scotland’s metropolis
gave a long account of the
pains that he had taken to get
the original programme of the
procession at the opening _ of
the International Exhibition
altered, the Lord Mayor of
Dublin ousted from the place
that had been assigned him
next the Lord Mayor of Lon-
don, and himself, the Lord
Provost of Edinburgh, put
in his place, as the position of
honour. We are sincerely sorry
to find that the meritorious
and successful exertions of
Edinburgh’s Chief Magistrate
to maintain the precedence of
Scotland met with no better
acknowledgment than the fol-
lowing effusion of cruel irony :

“ Bailie Blackaddeb said that
befoi-e Bailie Boyd should propose
his motion, ho wished to move a
vote of thanks to the Lokd Provost
for having represented the Council
at the ceremony at the opening of
the International Exhibition. He
had been told by those who were
present at the ceremony that his
Lordship's appearance on the occa-
sion was equal, if not superior, to the appearance of any one else there (laughter),
j that his bearing, and the ’•obo he wore, gave him more the appearance of a noble-
man than anybody else. (Laughter.) They were therefore much obliged to his
Lordship for making such a creditable appearance, and for the pains he took to get
his proper position ; and also for having exerted himself with reference to the
Castle and other matters connected with the affairs of the city.”

Oh, what a Bailie Blackadder thus to bite his Provost with fangs
( sharper than a serpent’s tooth—more venomous than that of a cobra or
a rattlesnake! As a brother member of the Free Kirk, and fellow
! labourer in the field—we must not say vineyard—of permissive Maine-
law legislation, one would have expected this most ungracious and
uncanny Bailie, in any remarks which he might have thought fit to
j make about his superior, the Provost, to have erred, not on the side of
venom, but on that of slaver.

Innocent people, who do not see through Bailie Blackadder’s
satire, and take it all for serious adulation, will say that the Bailie’s
remark, that the bearing of the Lord Provost, and the robe he wore,
gave him more the appearance of a nobleman than anybody else, shows
that he never could have seen a nobleman except on the stage. But
of course Bailie Blackadder has never set his foot in a theatre; and
| in saying that the robe which the Lord Provost wore gave him
| the appearance of a nobleman, we are afraid he intended to
j insinuate that the object of his mock eulogy deported himself like a
pompous buffoon. Eielding says that the personal appearance of
j Joseph Andrews was such that, to persons who had never seen a noble-
! man, it would have conveyed the idea of nobility. It cannot be
j supposed that Bailie Blackajdder is so little acquainted with the
j aristocracy as to imagine that noblemen are accustomed to strut about
i in a robe like that worn at the opening of the International Exhibition
! by the Lord Provost of Edinburgh.

A WHIMSICAL ERROR OE POPERY.

What strange ideas Roman Catholics of extreme opinions appear to
entertain about other people ! The Tablet, having mentioned that
lately the Pofe held a public Consistory in the Sala Regia of the
Vatican, proceeds to make the incomprehensible remark which con-
cludes the subjoined passage :—

It was one of several consistories that will be held (the rest semi-public only)
preliminary to the Canonisation of the Japanese martyrs next month, which is at
present arousing such mingled emotions of joy and hope, rage and fear, in Catholic
and infidel hearts.”

How can an infidel, who believes in no saints whatever, be inspired
either with rage or fear by the Pope in pretending to create new saints,
and so, as the unbeliever conceives, perpetrating a solemn humbug, or
making a fool of himself P Perhaps the Tablet accounts all Protestants as
infidels. The British Public, however, at any rate, views the canonisation
of the Japanese martyrs with perfect good humour. It regards that
proceeding, as a grotesque mediaeval ceremony, with a kindly and not
®uite irreverent derision. H the canonisation were an auto-da-fe, pro-

tected by French bayonets, then, indeed, Britons would certainly
contemplate it with great rage, and perhaps with some feat ; but, as it
is, they consider it merely an act of credulous assumption. Never-
theless, as they suppose, that in its performance the Pope is really in i
earnest, they contemplate him, therein engaged, with a certain degree
of respect and veneration mingled with hilarity, just as they look at a
work of early Art, representing a Bishop with his head awry, in an
impossible attitude, working a stupendous miracle by means of the i
crook which he holds between the backs of his hands.

THE GEM OF THE SHOW.

Come, grant the unfortunate Beggars’ Petition,

The Royal Commissioners’, down on their luck,

Come, let us be off to the Great Exhibition,

Our shillings will count when the balance is struck ;
And really there’s plenty to see for your money.

Smart are the booths at the Kensington Fair,

And when the day’s decently cheerful and sunny.

You lounge up an appetite pleasantly there.

First, in the East you will witness a frolic, a
Mild “Water-Frolic,” as kitchens would say,

See the girls dart past the splashing Majolica
Fountain that threatens a douche with its spray.
Boom, on your left comes a summons like thunder.
Those Blue-bells of England your patronage crave.
When you’ve got rid of the water and wonder,

Stroll with us down the kaleidoscope nave.

What is the elegant object that tickles
Your fancy—those onions, and catsups, and soys?
Hush, and don’t laugh at the trophy of Pickles,

But look with delight at that trophy of Toys.

Beauty in both ; if you cannot discern it, you ’re
Dunce of our Great International School:

W ell, here are walking-sticks, fenders, and furniture,
Now feel aesthetic and don’t be a fool.

Here ’s something better—the jewels—but no, pal.
Think not that crinoline crowd to invade,

But, if one can’t get a glimpse of the Opal,

The ancle’s a substitute Ireely displayed.

There is a beacon, and that thing in plaster
Is Milan—no—no, it’s the Bourse at Berlin,

That lighthouse, which looks like a great pepper-castor,
Is moved by some wonderful clockwork within.

You don’t seem to care—we will try if sensation
From painting will touch that unmalleable heart:

Mr. Hawthorn remarks, in his book, 1'ransformation,

“ The Shallow and Hard make best critics of art.”
Now, don’t pull a face as if Bentley on Phalaris
Asked you to lecture, in classical Greek,

There isn’t in Europe a sight like these galleries.

Filled with a show that is work for a week.

There’s British art—while a critic’s true pen holds his
Own, let him challenge a rival array;

Look at the Lawrences, Hogarths, and Reynoldses,
Look at their pupils, the Men of the Day.

Come where the foreigners’ colour and action
Ought to relax that dissatisfied glance,

Look at their limning of female attraction,

Costumes from Eve to the Empress of France.

Still you seem bored. We shall kick up a shiudy, a
Row, we may say, if you cut it so fine :

See you that spot in the Gallery next “ India,”

See you a case where some volumes recline ?

There is the Gem of the whole International,

Go, find it out, and we ’ll give you some lunch.
Excited at last! Ah, we thought you were rational.
Yes, you behold the Re-Issue of Punch !

Art is Long.

We should say that Art in many cases was extremely long, for
looking at the Nelson’s Column and the Guards’ Memorial, it would
seem that we are never to see the end of them.

A Hereditary Peerage.—It descends, as the French would say,
“ de pair en his ”