DOI issue:
May 12, 1883
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17754#0228
May 12, 1883.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
221
siderately placed the names of the celebrities represented underneath,
so that, after the first ten minutes, there is no possibility of mistaking
Sir Frederick for Mr. Ikying,
An old Subject frequently “ Treated.”
Ellen Tenet for Nelly Fa li-
ken, Mr. Gladstone for Mr.
Tenniel, orSir W. V. Harcourt
for Mr. W. Agnew, M.P., and so
on. It will be a most valuable
picture long after the Salvation
Army craze is forgotten, and
most interesting when all pho-
tographs of the persons here
represented shall have faded
away, and their likenesses
everywhere been destroyed,—
excepting always those in Mr.
Punch's unique collection, which
will ever exist to answer doubts,
decide bets, restore certainty,
and correctly teach history.
After this we have not time or
space for much. Just look at—
No. 191. Psyche. E. J.
PoynteR, R.A. “ The property
of the Corporation of Liverpool.”
A portrait, of course., Ahem!
Naughty Corporation. Fie!
GOLDEN WORDS FROM A MAN OF METAL.
(From a MS. preserved in the Office of Works.)
The Chief Commissioner and the Secretary stood still and looked
at one another in wonder. It was j ust before daybreak and exactly
•opposite Apsley House.
“ Thank you again, Gentlemen,” repeated the sharp metallic voice.
“ Where does it come from ? ” asked the Chief Commissioner, in a
frightened whisper.
“ From me,” was the immediate answer. “ From F.M. the Duke
of Wellington.”
“The strangest sight I have seen since I left the Legation in
Japan,” murmured the Secretary, regarding the statue with awe.
“ A very good, site, indeed,” observed the Iron Duke, with a smile,
as he glanced around him at the new roads. “ I am sure I have to
thank you both for the trouble you have taken in getting me down.
When I make my acknowledgments, I must not forget Mr. R. J.
Callender, who, before he went to the Office of Works, did capital
service at the Admiralty and in Ceylon in positions of the greatest
responsibility.”
“ The Assistant Secretary is, and has been for many years simply
'invaluable,” said the Chief Commissioner.
“ Hear, hear ! ” heartily echoed Mitfoed, C.B.
“ Quite so. And now that I have come to land safely, the sooner
I get to the Horse Guards the better.”
“ You will find the place rather changed, your Grace,” observed
the Chief Commissioner, who was now regaining his composure.
“No doubt,” returned Wellington. “ I know perfectly well that
Geoege—the other Duke—was marched off to Pall-Mall with head-
quarters’ staff. It was a forced march, and Geoege liked it no better
than he liked the anti-scarlet grey.”
“ Oh, you know about that controversy ? ” observed the Secretary.
“ My good friend, I know everything. From my elevated position
I have seen much, but, until you were kind enough to lower me, I
had no opportunity of airing my opinions. A trifle too much air,
perhaps; but anything I might have said would have been over
the heads of the people. I was saying,” continued the Iron
Duke, unbending a little, “ although I saw a great deal up there, I
had no opportunity of getting at anybody until you let me down.
However, my experience has been serviceable. I have had this
advantage over other people in exalted positions—that I have been
allowed to see matters for myself. My view has been perfectly clear
(except in a London fog), and I am able to give you good advice now
that 1 am standing beside you on a footing of equality.”
“ You are very kind,” said the Chief Commissioner.
“I will address myself, if you please, more particularly to your
colleague,” replied the Duke. “ To Mr. Mitfoed—to whom is
chiefly due the present alteration.”
“ No, no,” interrupted the Companion of the Bath, modestly.
“ But I say 4 Yes, yes,’ ” replied the Great Commander ; “ and I
am not accustomed to make a statement without due consideration.
To you, Sir, then, I address myself, and ask—You have moved me,
why don’t you move t’other one ? ”
“ T’other one ? ” echoed the Secretary.
“ Yes, t’other one. T’other one who now is as great a nuisance as
I was. Who hadn’t the excuse that I had. Who can help being
the cause of an eyesore when I couldn't. In short the Duke of-”
“ Mudfobd ! ” cried the two officials, thrilling with horror.
“That is the person,” said the Statue. “You have pulled me
down, pull him up. You are making room on my site for hosts of
flowers. Make room on his site for battalions of vegetables ! ”
“ But surely, Duke, it would be slightly disrespectful,” ventured
the Chief Commissioner, timidly, “to take a sight-”
“ No flippancy, Sir ! ” thundered the Iron Duke, who seemed to
regard Mr. Shaw Lefevbe as rather an interloper in the presence of
Mr. Mitfoed. “ Why not go to Covent Garden and ask t’other one
to do something. Insist upon it, Sir ; insist upon it. Make a clean
sweep of it—orange-peel, cabbage-stalks, market garden baskets,
slush, mud and all! Clear it out, Sir, clear it out! Nowadays
sentiment goes for nothing, and there is not much sentiment in that
neighbourhood. Pull down everything. Cause a market to be built
on a site bounded on the North by Long Acre, and on the South by
the Strand. Carry it East to Drury Lane, and leave the West alone
—only on account of Sir Chbistopher and his barn. Then, Sir,
open the new building with an International Vegetable Exhibition.
Splendid advertisement, which should give the improved market a
grand start, and throw into the shade the fishy show at South Ken-
sington ! Come, Gentlemen, do your duty ! Down with Mudfobd
and his market! Up, Guards of London, and at them ! ”
The man of metal perfectly glowed with excitement.
“We will do our best,” returned the Chief Commissioner. “ And
now, your Grace, is there anything more we can do for you ? ”
“ Well, yes,” replied the Duke, gazing at the coming dawn. “ I
must be brief with my remarks, as at daybreak I lose my voice.
You can do for me an act of justice. But first shake hands.”
The officials respectfully clasped in turn the iron palm.
“ Again I thank you. And now for my act of justice. When I
am placed in my final site opposite the Horse Guards—which I hope
will be soon ?-”
“ It shall be soon,” assented the Chief Commissioner.
“ I should like to have another statue to balance me, as a vis-d-vis.
This should be a statue of one of the greatest Warriors of the age.”
‘‘Tobe sure,” murmured Mr. Shaw Lefevee; “Lord Wolselet?”
“No, Sir, not Lord Wolselet. Not only is this hero a great
Warrior, but a great Judge, a great Artist, an eloquent Advocate.”
“ He must mean Sir Frederick Leighton,” whispered Mitfoed,
C.B. “You know the P.R.A. commands a battalion of Volun-
teers.”
“ I do not mean Sir Frederick, who has yet to learn what to do
with a brush—with the enemy,” replied the Iron Duke. “No,
The Statue at Large.
Gentlemen, the illustrious individual to whom I allude is a personal
friend of my own. It is to his exertions, extending over a long
series of years, that I owe my present position. He insisted that
I should be permitted to descend. He is the greatest man of this or
any other century. He is the hero of not a hundred but a thousand
fights.”
The dawn began to break, and the voice of the great Commander
grew faint.
“He is the grandest Roman of them all. Need I say that I
mean—I mean-”
And then came daybreak, and the Duke was silent.
The two officials looked at one another, and repeated, “ 4 The
greatest man of this or any other century.’ Why, the Duke must
have meant”- And they whispered the name of the most
renowned Sage the world has ever known. And they were right—
the Duke did mean Mr. Punch !
In last Saturday’s P. M. Gazette there is an account of how, years
ago, Mr. Dion Boucicault wrote and produced a Passion Play, him-
self playing Pontius Pilate, bedad, Sorr! This sounds as if the
Irish Dramatist had out-heroded Herodiade,
221
siderately placed the names of the celebrities represented underneath,
so that, after the first ten minutes, there is no possibility of mistaking
Sir Frederick for Mr. Ikying,
An old Subject frequently “ Treated.”
Ellen Tenet for Nelly Fa li-
ken, Mr. Gladstone for Mr.
Tenniel, orSir W. V. Harcourt
for Mr. W. Agnew, M.P., and so
on. It will be a most valuable
picture long after the Salvation
Army craze is forgotten, and
most interesting when all pho-
tographs of the persons here
represented shall have faded
away, and their likenesses
everywhere been destroyed,—
excepting always those in Mr.
Punch's unique collection, which
will ever exist to answer doubts,
decide bets, restore certainty,
and correctly teach history.
After this we have not time or
space for much. Just look at—
No. 191. Psyche. E. J.
PoynteR, R.A. “ The property
of the Corporation of Liverpool.”
A portrait, of course., Ahem!
Naughty Corporation. Fie!
GOLDEN WORDS FROM A MAN OF METAL.
(From a MS. preserved in the Office of Works.)
The Chief Commissioner and the Secretary stood still and looked
at one another in wonder. It was j ust before daybreak and exactly
•opposite Apsley House.
“ Thank you again, Gentlemen,” repeated the sharp metallic voice.
“ Where does it come from ? ” asked the Chief Commissioner, in a
frightened whisper.
“ From me,” was the immediate answer. “ From F.M. the Duke
of Wellington.”
“The strangest sight I have seen since I left the Legation in
Japan,” murmured the Secretary, regarding the statue with awe.
“ A very good, site, indeed,” observed the Iron Duke, with a smile,
as he glanced around him at the new roads. “ I am sure I have to
thank you both for the trouble you have taken in getting me down.
When I make my acknowledgments, I must not forget Mr. R. J.
Callender, who, before he went to the Office of Works, did capital
service at the Admiralty and in Ceylon in positions of the greatest
responsibility.”
“ The Assistant Secretary is, and has been for many years simply
'invaluable,” said the Chief Commissioner.
“ Hear, hear ! ” heartily echoed Mitfoed, C.B.
“ Quite so. And now that I have come to land safely, the sooner
I get to the Horse Guards the better.”
“ You will find the place rather changed, your Grace,” observed
the Chief Commissioner, who was now regaining his composure.
“No doubt,” returned Wellington. “ I know perfectly well that
Geoege—the other Duke—was marched off to Pall-Mall with head-
quarters’ staff. It was a forced march, and Geoege liked it no better
than he liked the anti-scarlet grey.”
“ Oh, you know about that controversy ? ” observed the Secretary.
“ My good friend, I know everything. From my elevated position
I have seen much, but, until you were kind enough to lower me, I
had no opportunity of airing my opinions. A trifle too much air,
perhaps; but anything I might have said would have been over
the heads of the people. I was saying,” continued the Iron
Duke, unbending a little, “ although I saw a great deal up there, I
had no opportunity of getting at anybody until you let me down.
However, my experience has been serviceable. I have had this
advantage over other people in exalted positions—that I have been
allowed to see matters for myself. My view has been perfectly clear
(except in a London fog), and I am able to give you good advice now
that 1 am standing beside you on a footing of equality.”
“ You are very kind,” said the Chief Commissioner.
“I will address myself, if you please, more particularly to your
colleague,” replied the Duke. “ To Mr. Mitfoed—to whom is
chiefly due the present alteration.”
“ No, no,” interrupted the Companion of the Bath, modestly.
“ But I say 4 Yes, yes,’ ” replied the Great Commander ; “ and I
am not accustomed to make a statement without due consideration.
To you, Sir, then, I address myself, and ask—You have moved me,
why don’t you move t’other one ? ”
“ T’other one ? ” echoed the Secretary.
“ Yes, t’other one. T’other one who now is as great a nuisance as
I was. Who hadn’t the excuse that I had. Who can help being
the cause of an eyesore when I couldn't. In short the Duke of-”
“ Mudfobd ! ” cried the two officials, thrilling with horror.
“That is the person,” said the Statue. “You have pulled me
down, pull him up. You are making room on my site for hosts of
flowers. Make room on his site for battalions of vegetables ! ”
“ But surely, Duke, it would be slightly disrespectful,” ventured
the Chief Commissioner, timidly, “to take a sight-”
“ No flippancy, Sir ! ” thundered the Iron Duke, who seemed to
regard Mr. Shaw Lefevbe as rather an interloper in the presence of
Mr. Mitfoed. “ Why not go to Covent Garden and ask t’other one
to do something. Insist upon it, Sir ; insist upon it. Make a clean
sweep of it—orange-peel, cabbage-stalks, market garden baskets,
slush, mud and all! Clear it out, Sir, clear it out! Nowadays
sentiment goes for nothing, and there is not much sentiment in that
neighbourhood. Pull down everything. Cause a market to be built
on a site bounded on the North by Long Acre, and on the South by
the Strand. Carry it East to Drury Lane, and leave the West alone
—only on account of Sir Chbistopher and his barn. Then, Sir,
open the new building with an International Vegetable Exhibition.
Splendid advertisement, which should give the improved market a
grand start, and throw into the shade the fishy show at South Ken-
sington ! Come, Gentlemen, do your duty ! Down with Mudfobd
and his market! Up, Guards of London, and at them ! ”
The man of metal perfectly glowed with excitement.
“We will do our best,” returned the Chief Commissioner. “ And
now, your Grace, is there anything more we can do for you ? ”
“ Well, yes,” replied the Duke, gazing at the coming dawn. “ I
must be brief with my remarks, as at daybreak I lose my voice.
You can do for me an act of justice. But first shake hands.”
The officials respectfully clasped in turn the iron palm.
“ Again I thank you. And now for my act of justice. When I
am placed in my final site opposite the Horse Guards—which I hope
will be soon ?-”
“ It shall be soon,” assented the Chief Commissioner.
“ I should like to have another statue to balance me, as a vis-d-vis.
This should be a statue of one of the greatest Warriors of the age.”
‘‘Tobe sure,” murmured Mr. Shaw Lefevee; “Lord Wolselet?”
“No, Sir, not Lord Wolselet. Not only is this hero a great
Warrior, but a great Judge, a great Artist, an eloquent Advocate.”
“ He must mean Sir Frederick Leighton,” whispered Mitfoed,
C.B. “You know the P.R.A. commands a battalion of Volun-
teers.”
“ I do not mean Sir Frederick, who has yet to learn what to do
with a brush—with the enemy,” replied the Iron Duke. “No,
The Statue at Large.
Gentlemen, the illustrious individual to whom I allude is a personal
friend of my own. It is to his exertions, extending over a long
series of years, that I owe my present position. He insisted that
I should be permitted to descend. He is the greatest man of this or
any other century. He is the hero of not a hundred but a thousand
fights.”
The dawn began to break, and the voice of the great Commander
grew faint.
“He is the grandest Roman of them all. Need I say that I
mean—I mean-”
And then came daybreak, and the Duke was silent.
The two officials looked at one another, and repeated, “ 4 The
greatest man of this or any other century.’ Why, the Duke must
have meant”- And they whispered the name of the most
renowned Sage the world has ever known. And they were right—
the Duke did mean Mr. Punch !
In last Saturday’s P. M. Gazette there is an account of how, years
ago, Mr. Dion Boucicault wrote and produced a Passion Play, him-
self playing Pontius Pilate, bedad, Sorr! This sounds as if the
Irish Dramatist had out-heroded Herodiade,