Punch (63.1872)

200

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [November 16, 1872.

$imri) at HuncJ).

see Ulysses Gbant has been
triumphantly re-elected Pre-
sident of the United States,
Tobias. A quotation, Sir
Canis, on the instant, come !
What—the last lines of Pope's
Homeb's history of the other
Ulysses ? I, Punch,

" In Mentor's form, confirm the
full accord,
And willing nations know their
lawful Lord."

That second line is not Pope's,
Toby. 'Twill pass, and I
confirm the accord in a Car-
toon, which you shall see, if
you are good.

I am glad to read that the
American Press is again dis-
covering General Grant's
great merits, and is praising
him in a liberal, not to say
lavish manner. All a culi-
nary question. Royalists oil
their kings, Republicans but-
ter them.

'Tis none of my business to furnish the Tories with an answer to
the Attobney-Genebal. But Sie John Colebidge says that they
have no history. Lord Byeon pretended to be a Radical, yet he
writes,—

" I greatly venerate our ancient glories,
And wish they were not owing to the Tories."

The Ultra-Irish Party lose a good man in Ms. Maguire. Of
course he was all wrong in politics, but he was a thoroughly con-
scientious and a very able man, and he had the ear of the House.
He had humour, moreover. I heard him, in the days when Mrs.
Stowe's book was talked about, accuse a Minister of reducing his
followers to a state of " political Uncle Tommytude."

M. Gounod kindly composed, and personally introduced, a song
for the benefit of poor Mss. Black, once Maid of Athens. It has
not been a success. He is surprised. You are not. Toby ? You
know that the sing-song lot mostly dislike good music, and warble
about sentiment too much to feel any.

A Jersey farmer, seeing some children at play, and remembering
that some of his apples had been stolen, fired a gun at the little
party. He put in oats, not shot, but they stuck all over one of the
children, and hurt it considerably. There is law, of a sort, in Jersey,
and he goes to prison, to teach him not to sow his wild oats in
children's backs. The sentence was lightened on account of his age.
He was 62. Anywhere but in Jersey this would have been thought
a reason for giving the spiteful old churl an extra three months.
Don't you wish you had been near his legs, my dog ?

The Empeeoe of China is married. All happiness to the flowery
young couple! The bride will probably see some revolutions, but
we will hope that she will be

" ' Empress' of herself, though China fall."

Somebody's unexpectedly vulgar conduct, the other day, was
explained tome as admitting of " the simplest solution." I said,
good-naturedly, "Not quite the simplest, but the solution was that
of several lumps of sugar in several glasses of element and alcohol."

How great a poetical matter a little prosaic fire kindleth! I find
this in myself—but never mind that. Thomas Geay wrote a poem
called the " Long Letter." It was suggested by two or three lines
of scrawl by a foreign lady who could not spell. This is the inspired
and inspiring despatch. The original is the property of a friend of
mine, who kindly let me copy it. I will read, it to you, Toby.
" Lady Schattb's compliments to Me. Geay she is sory to have not
find him to tell him that Lady Brown is very well." We are great
creatures, we poets.

It was contended in a Law Court the other day that " a wife was
lawfully in any house where her husband was, and had a right to
go into any room after him." The Judge was astounded, and dis-

sented. Yet I believe most wives will think, or at least Bay, that he
was wrong, especially those of the class that prefer a husband's
room to his company.

A Doorstep Brigade, to save servants the trouble of cleansing our
thresholds I What next, and next F as Me. Cobden wrote. In an
exquisitely beautiful little comedy, which would never have been
written but for your master, Toby, a girl taunts her lazy sister,—
"I say, Ma, if Blanche ever has a baby, she '11 put it out to wash."

The Moslem holds that every painter who draws human figures
will, at the resurrection have to put souls into them. Perhaps the
belief is shared by certain Christian painters, who therefore wisely
avoid double trouble.

I will astonish your canine mind. List. A battle scene:

" Then banners waved, and arms were mixed with arms,
And javelins answered javelins as they fled,
And both fled hissing Death."

Whose ? Take an hour. You give it up ? The author of the Little
Busy Bee. 'Tis true, foi de Punch. Would you have belef t it of
the good little Doctor ? It is from a Lyric so thundering that he
was actually obliged to stop in the middle and write prose, as his
poetry could not express his excitement. Then he went at it again,
and thundered to the end.

Chaucer was Clerk of the Works at Windsor Castle, and super-
intended the repairs there from 1389 to 1391. I should suggest his
being thus occupied as a subject for a picture, but a painter would
be sure to say that " no theme" was offered. He would be right,
but he might throw in an incident, the iEdile of the day complain-
ing of the expense, and the King of the day (I forget who it was)
knocking down the iEdile, and, with a sweet smile, quoting
Chat/cee's

" The wrastling of this world asketh a fall."

And I don't think the Academy catalogue would print it wrestling,
because that is correct, according to modern use.

" The Ephesians" would be a good name for a club. A club of
Churchmen might so call themselves (when we have been dis estab-
lished), with the Shakspearian motto, " Ephesians, my Lord, of the
Old Church." _

You have heard that sentiment from me before ? What do I
care ? What does our friend Terentius observe ? Nullum est jam
dictum quod non sit dictum prius."

Lord Melbourne could hit very straight from the shoulder when
he would take that trouble. Loed Brougham made an able and
bitter attack on him in the Lords one night, and Lord Melbourne,
in his reply, lauded his enemy's intellect enormously, and added,
" How serious, my Lords, must be the objections to such a man,
when such talent could not induce me to offer him office ! "

Those little lions—don't growl, you jealous pig!—are well worth
going to see at the Z. G. Diu parturit lecena catulum sed—leonem.
They are little Irish lions, moreover, but are, as Theseus remarks,
" Very gentle beasts, and of a good conscience." A.t least, they have
not been such stupid beasts as to roar for Home Rule yet.

If my revered friend, the Bishop of St. David's, is fairly reported
(all Bishops are not, you know), his Lordship has cut the knot of the
Athanasian Creed. He is stated to have said that " it will probably
be found, on investigation, that the entire responsibility of the ter-
rible anathema devolves upon the Clerk, who alone says, Amen."
I wait a verification. But if the Bishop is right, is it not bard on
the Clerk, who would get an awful wigging if he did not make the
response ? _

The police in Madras wear green chintz knickerbockers.

No wonder our forefathers were so jolly. I see by an advertise-
ment in the Spectator (Addison's—my contemporary, however, often
writes quite as well as the elegant Joseph), that red Barcelona wine
was five shillings a gallon, and four-and-sixpence if bought by the
butt, and that Madeira was six shillings a gallon. The Good Tem-
plars of those days had good times.

The young fellows of our day are so awfully careful about com-
mitting themselves to engagements. A spirited girl in one of
Beaumont and Fletcher's plays says

" Give me him dare love
At first encounter."

I always used to do so, I am proud to say.