Punch (55.1868)

32

PUNCH, OP THE LONDON CHAPIVARI. [July is, isgs.

A POET’S INDIGNATION.

Dear, Sir,

You have been down upon me a good many times, but I know
you love justice, and I confidently ask your aid. Sir, it has been re-
ported that I am the author of the words of the song sung (and
excellently, I hear, by Mr. Cummings) at the Crystal Palace on the
day the Duke op Edinburgh was there.

Sir, Mr. Punch, it is not true. I had nothing to do with it.

I allow, Sir, that the style of the so-called Poet is based upon mine,
and that the mistake is not unnatural. But when you come to look at
the verses that were sung, you will see that I, the Poet Close, could
never have written such nonsense. Look here, Sir.

“ Of Nelson, Hood, ancl Collingwood,

Our grandsires used to sing ;

Our fathers had a toast as good,

They gave 1 the Sailor King ! ’

Now royal Alfred treads the deck,

His courage to evince;

He braves the storm, nor fears the wreck;

God bless our Sailor Prince ! ”

Treads the deck to evince his courage! Mr. Punch, would I thus
libel my Prince ? Pie treads the deck for no such unseamanlike and
idiotic purpose. He treads the deck because it is his duty to do so,
and at the right time goes below for the same reason. But worse stuff
follows.

“ Young, brave and true, he wears the blue.

His courage to evince,

The pride, ‘ the darling of his crew
God bless our Sailor Prince ! ”

Wears the blue to evince his courage ! One would think that it was
a proscribed colour, and that like wearing of the green in Ireland, the
feat was one of danger. Isn’t it sad that thousands of folk should have
to hear such bosh P But there is worse still.

“ When o’er the land a flash of pain,

Shot through th’ electric wire,

That England’s darling son was slain,

High rose the people’s ire;

Now let him know, the coward blow
Our fealty doth evince,

And blend our prayers, that God who spares,

May save our Sailor Prince.”

What does the so-called Poet mean by saying that a flash of pain
shot through the electric wire ? Did it hurt the wire ? And how does
the coward blow (which wasn’t a blow) evince our fealty ? The fact is,
Sir, that the barren-brained bard wanted to rhyme to Prince, and
could think of no rhyme but evince. I, Sir, could have given him
many rhymes, much better ; as

Our noble Prince
Did never wince,

But ever since,

When eating mince,
bias wished for quince,

His mouth to rinse,

And thus convince
That he is every inch a Prince.

Sir, as the Lady Florence Pepple, the sister of the young King of
Bonny, successor to him of whom I was proud to be Laureate, is coming
over, and I shall have to address her in song, it might do me injury in
my business if I were supposed capable of writing such verses as those
I have quoted. By giving publication to the facts, you will oblige,
Your obedient Servant, <pHE p0ET q10SE

July, 1868.

What will the Teetotallers say P

The Rev. Dr. Jelp, on retiring from the Principalship of King’s
College, London, had a testimonial presented to him. You shall have
as many guesses as you like, and yet you shall not find out what was
selected to be given to a Doctor of Divinity on resigning the headship
of a great educational establishment. A Theological Library ? A set
of clerical robes ? A full-length portrait ? A silver tea and coffee
service ? A candelabrum P—All wrong. They gave him (besides
founding a Jelf prize, or scholarship, or something of that commendable
character), “A Bacchanalian Yase! ” This we can only suppose to be
classical either for a claret-jug or a wine-cooler—a punch-bowl being,
of course, out of the question. Whichever it may be, we heartily wish
the excellent Doctor many years’ use of it!

“ Give a Dog a Bad Name.”—Suppose while Mayne’s order
continues in force we were to christen the Police “Muzzle-Loaders.”

ALDERMAN LUSK.

“ Mr. Alderman Lusk could not congratulate the Museum upon its success
in a popular point of view. Notwithstanding the sums that had been spent
on it, the people did not go to it as they used to do, and the number of visitors
fell off every jrear. ... A person he knew said of one room that it was
‘ full of lug stones, and men without heads, and he did not see much merit in
them.’ (A laugh.) He told his friend he was not perhaps a judge of fine art,
but being himself in the room devoted to antiquities the other day, not a
single person was to be seen. People wanted greater variety, and not so much
of one thing to look at.”—Debate of Wednesday, July 8th.

Alderman Lusk may love things that bring grist in ;
Alderman Lusk may be purely Philistine ;

Alderman Lusk Matthew Arnold may slight,

Alderman Lusk may scorn “ sweetness ” and light;
Alderman Lusk may not see, for M.P.’s use,

What’s the good of your Pates, your Ilyssus, or Theseus ;

Alderman Lusk on the marbles of Phidias

May look but as “ damaged lots,” more or less hideous.

In whom Alderman Lusk may feel want of clothes is,

Still worse than the want of heads, legs, arms, and noses.

But when Alderman Lusk takes his trumpet, he blows it—•

“ He don’t want no Museums, and don’t care who knows it.”
Philistine he may be, but one thing he’s not,

A Pretender, that is, to more taste than he’s got.

And were all our Philistine M.P.’s, Lusk, like you,

The Pine Arts would fare better with us than they do.
Philistines with no tastes, on Art may keep quiet,

Philistines with bad tastes are sure to run riot!

AN EXAMPLE TO OUR NEIGHBOURS.

In the French Legislative Chamber, the other day, M. Emile
Ollivier made a speech against the financial extravagance of the
Imperial Government, in which he said: —

“ In France we shall never come to bankruptcy, but we shall arrive at
expedients such as we know have been adopted in countries which have
entered upon the dangerous routes in which we ourselves are now travelling :
we shall come to taxes on the rente : we shall come to paper money.”

This prophecy was received with “loud exclamations.” Well it
might have been. France has a frightful example before her. We
English have come to “ taxes on the rente ” already, and worse; we
have also come to a tax on hypothetical income. What we shall finally
come to, Heaven only knows. Possibly not grief. Perhaps a Reformed
Parliament, elected by the People, will readjust fiscal burdens on the
acknowledged principle that partial taxation is confiscation. Let us-
hope for the best.

SAD WASTE OF OIL.

A telegram from Belgrade, dated July 5, informed newspaper
readers that:—

“ The solemn unction of Prince Milan, as Sovereign of Servia, took place
at the Cathedral to-day.”

So it seems unction is not only practised in the Roman Church, but
also in the Greek, and indeed a punster would remark that it is a rite-
which might be supposed to be especially characteristic of the Church
of Greece. In these days of progress, and especially steam-progress,,
when people are so familiar with the process of oiling machinery, it
does seem rather an odd trick to oil a king. If sovereign princes are
oiled, why not sovereign presidents? Mr. Andrew Johnson was
never oiled, but if he had been is it likely that he would have suffered
any less than he has from friction with Congress ? Louis Napoleon
has never yet been oiled as Emperor of the French, and yet he appears
to rub on in that capacity tolerably well.

Maxims.

(BY IVAN THE IMMORALIST.)

To Intending Elopers.—Don’t run away, when staying will do as well.
With fair words butter some parsons.

Never do anything of which you would be ashamed: when anyone is-
looking.

Consider your wife as an angel: a recording angel.

Never speak ill of a friend, as one day you may be seen walking with
him.

on dit.

The Duke op Buckingham and Chandos wished for a Shak-
spearian motto under his portrait. The one immediately suggesting
itself was of course, “ The Duke op Buckingham is taken.”

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