Punch (64.1873)

February 15, 1873.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

71

A MOMENTOUS QUESTION.

ith every post,
Correspondents in
all parts of the
world have inquired
of Mr. Punch, hoth
by letter and tele-
gram, whether, as
the fourteenth of
February falls this
year on a Friday,
the proverbially
unlucky character
of that day will
have any disastrous
influence on those
tender missives—
varying; in price
from one penny to
ten guineas—which
for ages past it has
been the practice in
this country to cir-
culate on St. Valen-
tine's Day.

Mr. Punch, who
has been brought
up in the old faith
touching the sixth
day of the week,
and never puts on a
new pair of boots,
or makes a morning
call, or settles an
account, or eats
cold meat, or opens
-'^^ an official letter, or

does anything else

which might expose him to risk on a Friday, has looked into the
Authorities (Smith's Classical Dictionary, The Statesman1 s Year
Book, his own Pocket-Book, &c), and is now prepared to give
the following opinion on the important question which has been
submitted to him.

1. It is not unlucky to send a Valentine on Friday if it has been
previously inspected and approved by the parents or guardians of
the young person sending it, or if he or she happens to be a Ward
in Chancery, by the Lord Chancellor. But—and these are the
points to be particularly attended to—the communication mustbe
dated, in full, subscribed with the name, address, and occupation
of the sender, and, if forwarded through the post-office, left open at
both ends.

2. It is not unlucky to receive a Valentine on Friday, provided it
is first opened and examined by the father or mother, or other
responsible relation, of the Minor to whom it is addressed, before it
is placed in his or her hands. If it is in manuscript, it must not
contain any original composition, but consist solely of one or more
extracts or quotations from any of the following works—Burke on
the Sublime and Beautiful, Chambers's Book of Days, Maunder's
Treasuries (including the adages which border the pages), and
Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy.

3. Subject to these restrictions, and the usual Postal Regulations,
Mr. Punch sees no reason why the circumstance of St. Valentine's
Day falling on a Friday should interfere with the attentions so long
accustomed to be (pre) paid to that Saint and Bishop on the
fourteenth of February.

OUR REPRESENTATIVE MAN

Finishes the Old Masters, lunches with hw friend Wa&q, and
addresses the Editor as usual.

No. 69. The Lock and the Mill. J. M. W. Turner, R.A.—Any
visitor expecting to see the portraits of two philosophers will be
disappointed. Those who expect only a Lock and a Mill will look
at the picture with such misty feelings as befit a Turneresque taste,
and will choose for themselves which is the Lock and which is the
Mill,—whichever you like, my little dears, and so pass on to

No. 71. Portrait of a Gentleman, Unknown, in a Black Dress,
Wearing a. Puff. Sir Ant. Vandyck.—The ruff looks as though it
were wearing him, and the Gentleman Unknown seems to be bearing"
it patiently. The portrait of this Homo Incognitus might be termed
" Aristocrat worried by a Ruff." The labelling Committees have
settled him as a Gentleman, Unknown. It looks like a reward
offered for his discovery. Let this be a warning to all who have

their portraits taken to write their names legibly on the back and
in the corner. If the likeness is not flattering, that is, in your
opinion not truthful, write somebody else's name (an enemy's) on it,
or indorse your opinion of the Artist's incapability on the back of
the canvas, thus, " This was intended by Smtle, P.A. for me,
Tomkins. I paid, him five hundred pounds for it, and it isn't in the
least like. I wish Posterity to understand that I was a precious
sight better looking than this. I remain Posterity'1's devoted admirer,
Tomkins, St. Luke's, Chelsea, Vestryman.'1''

I stop here to make a remark concerning the Policemen on duty.
They are, I suppose, specially selected for this sort of work. I know
immediately what my friend Wagg would say ; he'd point them out
as " specimens of Constable," and chuckle over this for five minutes.
I did not notice one of this intelligent force wasting his time in
admiring a picture. To them the only study of Mankind is Man.
They lounge about (they can't do otherwise), with a defiantly per-
missive air, which seems to say, " Yes, you can walk in and see it;
0, yes, certainly ; it amuses you, and it doesn't hurt me. Walk in.
Only don't ask us anything about it, that's all."

They are, for all their insouciance, on the alert, and I felt sure
that any attempt on my part to walk off with, for example, The
Boar Hunt, by Snydebs (39 inches by 53 inches), would be detected
before I should be able to reach the front door. I think I could
manage to escape the notice of the Turnstile Men; or, if questioned,
I should say that I was the noble lender, the Earl of Denbigh,
and had come to take it home. However, on my honour, and as
Your Representative, I shall not make the trial.

No. 80. Snyder's Boar Hunt.—What nice dogs to have about the
house. Snarleyows every one of them. Observe especially the
hound that has brought the boar to book at last. The poor animal, of
what Wagg calls the Tuscan race, is nailed by a wretched dirty white
dog with spots on it, which is neither of pure Dalmatian nor of
Danish breed, but is only to be described as a Currant Dumpling
Dos. Now, my Reader, who are taking This Representative as your
guide, just walk on rapidly to No. 124 in the Third Gallery. It is a
Portrait of a Young Man in dark Pobes trimmed with Far, painted
by Jacopo Robusti, alias Tintoretto (j. Robusti knew what a name
was worth well enough), and probably presented to the Young Man
as discount by his tailor. " Be that as it may," as William the
Conquebor used to say, what I wish you to observe is the fur.
This Young Man (whose name, perhaps, is Norval on the Grampian
Hills) has evidently killed that Currant Dumpling: Dog, and trimmed
his robes with it. Between these two pictures, No. 80 and No. 124,
there is this mysterious link.

No. 80. This is the Dog

That worries the Hog
As shown in the picture by Sntders.

And

No. 124. This is the Youth in robes fur-trimmed
Whom Jacopo Tintobetto limned.
Who killed the Dog
That worried the Hog,
As shown in the picture by Sntbers.

And now, if you please, placed in the corner for being such a bad
picture, remark

No. 125. Portrait of Mariana of Austria, Second Wife of Philip
the Fourth, by Diego Velasquez.

I should imagine that Philip the Fourth had had a considerable
row with Mariana, and had determined to have her portrait painted
by a great Master as a present insult and an immortal revenge. The
great Master had perhaps received private instructions on the sub-
ject. Quite a little tale of King, Queen, and Knave. As repre-
senting You, Sir, and as pretending1 to no more knowledge of
painting than of side-dishes—whereof I can confidently say when
they please me and when they do not, adding, diffidently, a hint as
to what might, probably, be done to render them exactly to my taste
—premising this, I ask what and where is the beauty of this picture ?

" My dear Sir." somebody will reply, " it is a Velasquez." Quite
so, Somebody. Now, Somebody, come with me to

No. 149. Portrait of Don Andrian Pulido Pareja, Knight of
Santiago, Admiral of the Fleet of New Spain, by the same Diego
Velasquez.

Do you recognise the same touch ? Do you at all recognise the
same Master ? If you do, tell me, Gentle Shepherd, and I will listen.
But do not tell me, for to this I will not listen, that No. 125 is a
good specimen of Velasquez, or to be presented to the public as
anything but a specimen of what the artist could do when he didn't
like the subject, or when acting under the orders of an Imperial
patron who happened also to be a spiteful and cynical husband.
Juan de Pareja (No. 141), and Andrian Pulido Pareja (No. 149),
are two Velasquez, for which the owners may thank Heaven, and
make no boast.

No. 130. Vandyck's Madame Kirk.— Very attractive to Presby-
terian Ministers. Scotch Episcopalians claim it as a portrait of
Mother Church. Doctors disagree.