Punch (53.1867)

August 31, 1867.]

91

PUNCH OR TOE LONDON CHARIVARI.

PUNCH’S ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

Zeus be lauded, we have got to the end of the Alphabet and of
the Parliament simultaneously.

Monday, August 19. The Ritualistic Commission, after twenty sit-
tings, managed to come to the report just in time to enable the excellent
Primate op all England to announce the fact, but not in time to permit
the Bishop of Shaftesbury to tear the document to pieces before the
House of Lords. This arrangement was as neat as a pin, and ran like
one into Lord Shaftesbury,

Who, in withdrawing his Anti-church Millinery Bill, said he should
not comment on the delay, but he was sure that the country would
Twelve hundred and twenty petitions had been presented in favour of
the Bill he was obliged to give up. He made some strongish remarks
about apostates from Churcli principles.

The Archbishop said that the questions for the Commission were of
the greatest importance, and had demanded time, and that the Members
had been honest and steadfast.

The Bishop of London bore testimony to their earnestness, and hoped
than when Lord Shaftesbury read the report he would duly appre-
ciate it. Mr. Punch inclines to make a picture of Lord Shaftesbury
performing these two acts, and is deterred only by the consideration
that an artist ought not be called upon for a work of terror at this
languid period of the year.

In the Commons Mr. Newdegate signified that next year he should
make a motion bearing on the present system whereby folks who are
sentenced to the drop are let down so very much easier. But where is
the Bill for amending the law of Capital punishment, and classifying
offences ?

The Masters and Servants Bill was said by Lord Elcho to have
been immensely improved by the Lords, whose amendments were
accepted. It contains no provision that housemaids shall not wear
chignons and shall wear caps, which is regrettable, but while Mrs.
Myddleclasse imitates the Marchioness of Manvlands it will be difficult
to prevent Miss Mamial from imitating Mrs. Myddleclasse.

Very few people in London slept this night. We passed it in
wandering about our houses, blinking at the lightning flashes, crying
out “0, I say,” and telling one another that thunder seldom did any
harm. And, as the schoolboys elegantly put it, Jupiter Pluvius
descended plop.

Tuesday. Royal Assent to a heap of Bills, among them the London
Traffic Bill, which if the City sets its face against, the City will get
something else in the face from a hand not more remarkable for the
kindness with which it can pat than for the vigour with which it can smack.

Wednesday, August 21, 1867, the Session came to an end. The daily
journals did us out of the usual three or four smart leading articles, and
gave us a summary of the Session. In revenge Mr. Punch will do the
same. Toby, bring us a goblet of iced seltzer with some brandy. Now,
a cigar out of the ivory box. Now, a light. Now, pull the footstool
nearer. Now take down The File. Now copy the first line of every
Essence. Shall Mr. Punch be the only one not allowed to shirk real
work? We’ll see.

Toby writes:—

Abominable, truly, was the weather—

Benjamin, on February 11th, did not explain Conservative—
Complaint against France in both Houses—

Difficult, disagreeable, and discouraging was Disraeli’s—
Eventful have been the hours since Punch—

Flaring up suddenly. Lord Russell—

Great Cry in the Commons but less Wool—

However slowly, Reform is making safe—

In the opinion of Colchester, our soldiers—

Judicious speeches by Peers on Spain—

Knights of the shire, and humbler, met after Easter—

Lords were petitioned on Church Millinery—■

Lord Derby announced that Luxembourg—

Monday, May 20th, Lyveden complained that Canning-
Now, we are reforming like fun—

Only because the Peers have neither—

Parliament resumed, and Disraeli addressed—

Question in Lords whether County Courts —

Russell, Earl, came to the front—

Somebody who can write English to the Volunteers—

Tell me, dear Mr. Punch, writes a lovely—

Unquestionably July 15th will be a date in history—

Valiantly did the Peers, pillows of the State—

When the Cat is absent, the Mice indulge in—

Xiphilinus epitomised D. Cassius, Punch Parliament—

Yes, the Reform Bill is law—

Zeus be lauded, we have got to the end—

Very well copied, Toby, take an almond-cake. You were going to
observe that a certain letter occurs twice, and to compliment your
master upon the far-sighted prescience which told him that he should
want twenty-seven initials.* Never mind compliments, dog. A few
hours, and you shall be cooling your paws in the sea-waves, and your
lord shall for a space emulate the happiness of the Hermit of Prague
(confessor to the niece of King Gorboduc), “ that never saw pen aud
ink.” Meantime, go and buy the Speech. Derbt sent us a copy, but
we have packed soap in it for our journey. So. Is it worth putting
into rhyme P No, but verse is as easy as prose. Write, Toby, write.

“ Farewell, farewell,” (so Chelmsford’s song
Before his Sovereign’s throne arose)

“ Released from labour grave aud long
’Tis sweet to bid the Session close.

There’s peace around us, though a cloud
Gave menace of a morning dread,

When Prussian stern and Frenchman proud
Might meet to punch each other’s head.

“ The savage King who sways the lands
Beside the sea where Pharaoh died
Still keeps your brethren in his bands.

But we will tame his felon pride.

For we have passed the word to men
Who know how soldier-work is done.

That they shall storm his strongest den,

And kick him till he roars like fun.

“ The Fenian fire broke madly out
And shone on Erin’s features pale.

But soon she crushed the rebel rout.

And rogues unhung pick hemp in gaol.

With great Columbia, calm and wise,

We change a boon—no statesman’s trick .

The scroll that bears your loves and sighs
Shall now be only charged a kick.

“And fair Reform, (celestial maid)

Has smiled on thousands, thanks to you.

I trust the wide foundation laid
Beneath the throne is sound and true.

I trust that those whom you invite
To this new function, great and high,

Will show they prize the holy right.

And use their mind and mind their eye.

“ Of banded men strange things are told.

And shame it is such things should be :

How murder bares his arm for gold.

And English labour is not free.

’Tis well such deeds are dragged to day
Though scandal on our realm they bring.

And scarcely needful, I should say.

That you must stop that sort of thing.

“ For other work accept my thanks :

For kindness to the sick and poor,

For stopping, where the engine clanks,

More work than childhood should endure.

And thanks to you who have not bid
My sails to moulder, swords to rust,

Nay rather each retrenchment chid—

0 thanks for downing with the dust.”

Chelmsford in Propria Persona.

Farewell, farewell, the voice you hear
Has left its last soft tones with you,

And ’twere a lark to raise a cheer
As, when a sailor, I could do.

But in this robe so rich and gay.

Of course I mind what I’m about,

And have no further thing to say
Than two respectful words. Get out.

Now, Toby, a Hansom, and in with the portmanteau. Jump about,
dog. 0AAA22A, 0AAA22A.

i

i * Note. Tliat Mr. Punch may be regarded as “ nobly wild, not mad,” let him say
that this alphabetical whim was adopted in order to give fresh play to a pencil that
was not destiued to aid us long. Vide its last work in the iuitiaL lor March II.

A Fugitive Thought.

Considering the number of persons who are advertised for in the
Second Column of The Times as having run away from their homes and
friends, it might be as well to head that part of the paper, “ The
Flying Column.”