PART II

THE SOCIAL FABRIC

THE COURT

If the word "amazing" had not lost most of its significance through

overwork since August, 1914, we should be inclined to apply it to the

frankness with which Royalty and the Court were criticized and discussed

by the Press in the 'forties and 'fifties. _Punch_, as we have seen,

took a leading hand in the game, though he contrived to combine loyalty

to the person of the Queen with the most outspoken attacks on the

exercise of Court patronage and the extravagance of courtiers. But he

did not stop here. The Prince Consort was mercilessly ridiculed for his

Germanism, his notions of sport, his passion for tailoring, and, most

serious offence of all, his alleged intervention in high politics. After

ten years of anti-Albertianism, _Punch_ dropped, to a considerable

extent at any rate, the game of baiting the Prince, cordially admitted

his services in connexion with the Exhibition of 1851, and for the rest

of the period surveyed in our first volume granted him a comparative

immunity from hostile criticism.

The change, or conversion, was not due to expediency or to a change of

editorship or of the staff. It had already begun several years before

the death, in 1857, of _Punch's_ most democratic contributor, Douglas

Jerrold. It was typical of a change in the enlightened middle-class

opinion of which _Punch_ was the mirror. The Monarchy had gained in

popularity, and though there was no great revulsion of feeling about the

Prince until after his death, he had earned respect by his active

interest in education and philanthropy and the sagacity in counsel which

was most freely acknowledged by those who came in closest contact with

him. The charges of undue intervention and interference were effectually

dealt with by Ministers at the time, though _Punch_ failed to

acknowledge his vindication, and the _Life of Lord Beaconsfield_ shows

that a much stronger case can be made out against the Queen on this

count when she was no longer able to rely on the advice of the Prince.

The change in _Punch's_ conception of his _rôle_ as regards the Court

did not come in the twinkling of an eye. But from 1858 onwards he is

less of the licensed Court Jester, more of the unofficial Laureate. The

old _Punch_, who had his eye on Tsars and Kaisers (like the _Skibbereen

Eagle_) and autocrats is not dead yet. He has a tremendous fling in the

"Essence of Parliament" in July, 1858, _à propos_ of a contemplated

revision of the Prayer-book:--

Lord Stanhope, a Peer exceedingly well entitled to be heard upon

any such subject, then obtained an Address for cutting out of our

Prayer Books the savage and abject forms of worship which our

forefathers, at certain moments of excitement, thought it well to

prescribe on certain anniversaries, as Guy Fawkes Day, the

Martyrdom Day, and Oak Apple Day. When one reflects that the people

who composed such things adulated the dirty old coward and fool,

James the First; looked on while the body of the greatest of our

English kings (except Alfred)--we mean, of course, King Oliver the

First, and unfortunately the Only--was dragged from its grave to

the gallows; and ecstatically murmured the _Nunc dimittis_ when the

friend of Nelly Gwynn, by no means _his_ worst friend, returned to

betray the public honour of England, and debauch that of her

private life; one only wonders that such ecclesiastical profanities

have been tolerated so long. The Archbishop of Canterbury and the

Bishops of London, Oxford, and Cashel, expressed the sentiments

that might be expected from enlightened gentlemen; but the

offensive services found defenders in the poor old Bishop of

Bangor, in the Bishop of St. Asaph, who has _Mr. Punch's_ royal

licence henceforth to sign himself A Sap, and in a brace of foolish

Peers, called Marlborough and Duncannon: opposition which was the

only thing wanting to show that every man of decent intellect feels

alike on the subject.

[Sidenote: _Marriage of the Princess Royal_]

The disparaging allusion earlier in the same year to Prince Albert's

Prize Pig and the attack on the bestowal of a K.C.B. on Colonel Charles

Beaumont Phipps, the Prince Consort's Treasurer and Equerry to the

Queen, are quite eclipsed by this explosion. But _Punch_ was always

ready to speak disrespectfully of a dictator. Constitutional monarchy he

could respect and even admire, as Herbert Spencer said of the moderate

proficiency of an amateur billiard-player. The new voice, the voice of

the unofficial Laureate, had already been heard in his "Epithalamium" on

the Princess Royal in 1858, over whose engagement, when it was first

announced, he had been far from enthusiastic:--

Farewell, young Royal Lady,

Ne'er may your life wax shady,

Still may your path be shiny,

All rosy--nothing spiny.

_Macbeth_, when sitting stately,

You were beholding lately,

A point, which I may mention,

Perhaps won your attention:

The line of Kings, descending

From _Banquo_, never ending;

I hail you the Queen Mother,

Young Bride, of such another.

May the first line long sit in

The royal seat of Britain,

On Prussia's throne the second,

From you to doomsday reckoned.

United in alliance,

May those two lines defiance

Bid evermore to treason,

By governing with reason.

The prophecy in the third and fourth stanzas gives one a shiver: but the

word doomsday may pass in the sense of the day of doom. Simultaneously

the critic appears in "A Few Queries touching a late wedding":--

Can't our penny-a-liners be loyal,

Without writing themselves down flunkeys?

Can't our crowd gape at ciphers royal,

Without such percentage of "drunkies"?

When we want a wedding cantata

For our Princess Royal's espousal,

Why for Tennyson Catnach barter,

An owl for a singing ouzel?

When English Fiddlers find fingers,

And an English composer chords,

Can't we find six English singers,

Who at least could pronounce the words?

* * * * *

Must we still in ruts of old stick,

All alike, both high and humble,

Our nobs the slaves of Goldstick,

Our snobs the slaves of Bumble?

[Illustration: THE DRAWING ROOM

(A stoppage of a few minutes is supposed to take place.)

DREADFUL BOY (on lamp post): "Oh! My eye, Bill! 'Ere's a rose bud."]

[Illustration: THE ACCESSION OF THE QUEEN OF INDIA]

In the same vein is the protest in the spring of the same year, against

the journalistic flunkeyism of the report of the opening concert in St.

James's Hall (described as "vast in dimensions, elegant in proportion

and splendid in decoration") which was "honoured by the presence of

H.R.H. the Prince Consort, a large number of our aristocracy, and a very

numerous company belonging for the most part to the better classes of

society"--an English revival of the term _optimates_ which _Punch_ very

properly disliked and deprecated.

The reorganization of the Government in India brought the Queen a new

title, and in his congratulations we see _Punch_ at his best:--

To thee is given another land,

Another title of renown,

Another sceptre in thy hand,

And on thy head another crown.

To India now at last appears

Hope that before she ne'er had seen.

She smiles upon thee through her tears,

And looks for aid to England's Queen.

To thee, her last of Monarchs, first

She looks for justice, and the reign

Of mercy, nor will she have nursed

A fond belief, and hoped in vain.

No more a victim and a prey,

She trusts, with reason why she should,

Like all that live beneath thy sway,

She will be governed for her good.

This unofficial competition with the Laureate, however, did not prevent

_Punch_ from applauding Tennyson's additional stanzas to the National

Anthem, which some critics had impugned for their metrical laxity. A

little later on, _à propos_ of the Queen's alleged refusal to wear a

crinoline in 1859, _Punch_ in a mood of mixed loyalty and levity

contributed a new version of his own:--

Long live our gracious Queen,

Who won't wear Crinoline,

Long live the Queen!

May her example spread,

Broad skirts be narrowèd,

Long trains be shortenèd,

Long live the Queen!

O storm of scorn arise,

Scatter French fooleries,

And make them pall.

Confound those hoops and things,

Frustrate those horrid springs,

And indiarubber rings,

Deuce take them all!

May dresses flaunting wide,

Fine figures cease to hide;

Let feet be seen.

Girls to good taste return,

Paris flash modes unlearn,

No more catch fire and burn,

Thanks to the Queen!

The Empress Eugénie, it should be added by way of explanation, had

already fallen under the lash of _Punch's_ satire for supporting the

crinoline, and starting absurd fashions, amongst which he specially

notes the "occipital bonnet"--worn at the back of the head.

[Sidenote: _Punch and the Royal Princes_]

The Princess Royal was already off the Queen's and _Mr. Punch's_ hands.

The birth of her son in 1859--_grande et conspicuum nostro quoque

tempore monstrum_--is duly celebrated in some lines "On an auspicious

event" in which the Duchess of Kent is saluted as a great-grandmother.

But in 1859 and 1860 _Punch_, who liked to take himself very seriously

as an instructor of youth, is mainly concerned with the education of the

Royal Princes. Prince Alfred (the Duke of Edinburgh) was already a

middy, and his tour in Egypt and Palestine prompted severe comments on

the obsequiousness with which he was _fêted_ in the near East. As for

the Prince of Wales, the dangers of sycophancy were (according to

_Punch_) much less than those of over-pressure. In the cartoon entitled

"The Royal Road to Learning," the Prince in cap and gown is shown

surrounded by a group of stout, spectacled, bald and bottle-nosed

professors and dons bowing and scraping before the Royal youth. _Punch_

protests, too, in spirited doggerel against the process which threatened

to make the Prince Jack-of-all-trades and lord of none. It is at any

rate a consolation to think that the Prince of Wales evaded and survived

the alleged attempt to convert him into a walking encyclopædia. The

Prince's visit to Canada and the United States as "Baron Renfrew" in

1860 is followed with close interest and sympathy, and the frequent

references in text and illustrations suggest many curious parallels with

the experiences of his grandson in 1920. _Punch_ welcomed the Prince's

release from his arduous studies and was gratified with his reception;

he did not acquit the American Press of sycophancy, but was obviously

pleased when the _New York Herald_ said that his "genial and

unpretending" disposition had "gained him the affection of many true and

worthy hearts." Perhaps the greatest compliment was paid him by an

Irishman who accosted him in his railway car and said: "Come back four

years from now and we'll run you for President."

[Illustration: THE ROYAL ROAD TO LEARNING]

But to us the most interesting comment on the visit is _Punch's_

twice-repeated suggestion that the Prince might do a great deal worse

than bring back an American bride. He made it on the Prince's departure

in July in an Ode, with the apology, "If the Laureate won't do his work,

_Punch_ must," in which he says:

Transcendent charms drive even monarchs frantic,

A German Princess must he marry?

And who can say he may not carry

One of Columbia's fascinating daughters

O'er the Atlantic?

And he returns more seriously to the charge three months later:--

COUSINS FOR KINGS AND QUEENS

A Law which Nature contravenes,

A rule of Rank and State,

Forbids our Princes, Kings and Queens,

With British spouse to mate.

The safety of the Realm commands

Them Protestants to wed;

And therefore is their choice of hands

Extremely limited.

Their Cousins are our Royal race

Confined, almost, to woo,

Who, by the nature of the case

Are German Cousins too.

Now German Cousins far removed

All very well may be,

But Cousins German oft have proved

Too near the parent tree.

Near cousins o'er the German tide,

What need remains to seek,

Now steamers cross the Atlantic wide,

Almost within a week?

Of Yankee Land the Beauty pales

All Continental Fair;

Might not a bride be found for Wales,

A distant Cousin, there?

[Sidenote: _Royal Speeches Criticized_]

From this onward for a great many years _Punch_ was not content with

supplementing the inactivities of the Laureate, but seldom allowed any

event in the Royal annals--births, deaths, engagements or weddings--to

pass unchronicled in serious rhyme. The art of eulogy is difficult, and

the most that can be said of these efforts is that they were generally

graceful and appropriate, and that their loyalty seldom degenerated into

fulsomeness. On the subject of royal speeches _Punch_ showed good sense

as well as great frankness, in connexion with the public utterances of

the Prince of Wales on the occasion of his visit to Ireland in 1861:--

WANTED, A COURT PENMAN

Royal personages, in answering loyal addresses, of course speak

only that which is set down for them. If they made speeches of

their own they would be continually committing themselves,

unawares, to this statement and that, and unwittingly treading upon

the corns of various people right and left. At least, to avoid

making mistakes of this sort, they would have to take an amount of

trouble in composing their replies so great that it would very much

interfere with their ordinary business, and entirely spoil their

pleasure. It is therefore necessary that Princes should be provided

with attendants having the office to compose, and put into form,

the platitudes in which they are called upon, from time to time, to

acknowledge the compliments which are paid to them. But then the

platitudes ought to be expressed in proper terms, such as it may

become a Prince to utter; that is, in language which a decently

educated person would naturally use. Now, is anybody who has been

brought up in any school better than a Commercial Academy capable

of delivering himself in such a style as that of the subjoined

slip-slop which the Prince of Wales had to read in answer to an

address presented to him by the Kingstown Commissioners?--

"Gentlemen,--I most heartily thank you for the gratifying terms in

which, on your own behalf and that of the inhabitants of Kingstown,

you greet me on my arrival at your port, after a voyage performed

with such ease and expedition in the admirable vessel considerately

placed at my disposal by its enterprising proprietors."

His Royal Highness is also actually made to say:--

"During former visits to Ireland, and particularly in the course of

a tour made some years ago through the country, I had considerable

opportunities of witnessing the beauty of her scenery."

Some clue to the authorship of the preceding instances of

haberdashers' eloquence may perhaps be found in those

characteristic forms of speech, "considerable" opportunities, and

"witnessing" the beauty of her scenery. These are the notorious

idioms of that sort of penny-a-lining which is the least worth a

penny. The advisers of the Prince of Wales should cause their own

private secretaries to write the speeches which they give the

Prince to make, and not employ for that purpose the undermost

reporter engaged on the _Court Circular_. At least let the Queen's

son be allowed to speak his Mother's English.

As there is a Poet Laureate, so likewise ought there to be a Royal

Professor of Prose, whose office, however, shall not be merely

honorary, but shall consist in plainly wording the simple ideas

which Royalty is occasionally called upon to express. _Mr. Punch_

could mention some young men who, at a sufficiently high wage,

would accept the work.

Whether the hint was taken or not, the fact remains that for a good many

years Royal oratory has ceased to deserve such criticism. It may not be

Ciceronian; it does not inflame or transport the hearer, but at least it

is free from the cheap haberdashers' eloquence which aroused _Punch's_

wrath sixty years ago.

The visit of the Queen and Prince Consort to Ireland in August, 1861,

passed off without any untoward incident, but the comments in _Punch_

were mainly ironical, as in the cartoon, "Doth not a meeting like this

make amends," in which the Queen observes, "My dear Ireland, how much

better you look since my last visit. I am so glad." For the rest there

is much pungent criticism directed against the assiduity of the

newspaper correspondents in chronicling small beer. The demonstrations

were too carefully stage-managed in the operatic style: the odour of the

footlights invaded Killarney; and _Punch_ is quite furious with the

snobbery of the unfortunate special correspondent who declared that "the

Queen and Prince Albert repeatedly expressed their unqualified

admiration of the scenery. His Royal Highness said many portions were

sublime." It is by such practices, _Punch_ truly remarks, that "the

Press is lowered in repute and people think it is the work of a

vulgarian to write for it."

In the year 1861 the Queen lost both her mother and her husband. The

Prince Consort had outlived a great deal of his unpopularity--faithfully

reflected in the pages of _Punch_. Yet even so late as 1858 he met with

scant sympathy in the malicious imaginary conversation between the

Emperor of the French, the Queen and himself at Cherbourg. The Emperor

figures as the _miles gloriosus_, boastful of his strength; the Queen is

ironically polite: Prince Albert angular and tactless. The mere

suddenness and unexpectedness of his death brought a great reaction;

those who had depreciated and disparaged him when living were especially

vocal in their praises of the dead; but the full extent and significance

of his loss to the Queen was not understood till long afterwards. Those

terrible cartoons of Leech will keep coming before our eyes as we read

the bland elegiac stanzas in which _Punch_ made amends for ten years of

scarifying ridicule:--

It was too soon to die.

Yet, might we count his years by triumphs won,

By wise, and bold, and Christian duties done,

It were no brief eventless history.

This was his princely thought:

With all his varied wisdom to repay

Our trust and love, which on that Bridal Day

The Daughter of the Isles for dowry brought.

For that he loved our Queen,

And for her sake, the people of her love,

Few and far distant names shall rank above

His own, where England's cherished names are seen.

[Sidenote: _Punch and the Princess of Wales_]

The Queen never quite recovered from her bereavement. The next twenty

years of her life were spent more or less in retirement; and _Punch_, in

his pious and quite sincere request to be allowed to "share her grief,"

could not be expected to foresee that in less than two years the nation

would have grown restive at the Queen's continued seclusion and that he

himself would have become active in expressing its discontent. In 1862

the wedding of Princess Alice received the usual meed of ceremonial

verse, _Punch_ being happily spared a glimpse into the future in store

for her and her daughters; and the refusal of the Greek Crown by Prince

Alfred is recognized to be judicious. _Punch_ bore the Prince of Wales

no malice for not acting on his suggestion about an American bride; and

greeted Princess Alexandra of Denmark as enthusiastically if not as

poetically as the Laureate himself. When the wedding procession passed

down Fleet Street (the offices of the paper were then at No. 85), the

Princess was greeted with an effusion of loyal sentiment and champagne.

But in her beauty, grace, and popularity _Punch_ saw a means of rescuing

women of fashion from their expensive servility to French milliners, and

within a fortnight of his chronicling the marriage festivities he

appeals to her to set the fashions for British ladies, hitherto copied

from the French, and thus "turn the tide of absurdity in costume from

the abyss into which, before her seasonable arrival, it was tending to

plunge them." Long dresses, "sweeping and brushing the earth," heraldic

gold-dust, powder and hair dyes are especially singled out for

condemnation.

The birth of the Duke of Clarence is loyally chronicled in January,

1864, though in the following number _Punch_ could not resist the

temptation of printing some verses in parody of Tupper, then at the

zenith of his popularity. The birth of the present King in the summer of

the following year prompted some frank but friendly comments in

_Punch's_ "Essence of Parliament." Sir George Grey moved the address of

congratulation to the Queen. Then follows this characteristic passage:--

Mr. Disraeli, who we are glad to perceive had so completely

recovered from his gout as to be able to attend at the splendid

marriage of Miss Evelina de Rothschild, and make the most tender

and graceful of speeches in honour of the occasion, seconded the

motion, which _Mr. Punch_, rousing himself for a moment into loyal

enthusiasm, has the distinguished pleasure of thirding--and

relapses.

The plain fact was that _Punch_ was growing increasingly dissatisfied

with the continued retirement of the "Royal Recluse." This

dissatisfaction began with a "Loyal Whisper" at the time of the Prince's

wedding:--

"Nay, let my people see me." Kind

Was She whom then our cheers were greeting:

Now, would that Lady bear in mind

That words like those will bear repeating.

But it soon swelled to more vocal dimensions. It was one thing to check

the extravagances of "indelicate and obtrusive loyalty"; it was another

to maintain an almost Oriental aloofness. The subject is returned to

again and again, in prose and verse, and in two cartoons by Tenniel:

notably that of "Queen Hermione" in 1865. But the candour of _Punch_

reaches its highest level in his comments on the announcement early in

1866 of the institution of a new decoration--the Albert Medal.

[Sidenote: _The "Effete Monarchy"_]

_Mr. Punch's_ loyalty has been proved too often for question.

Without the slightest apology, therefore, he proceeds to say what

he would have preferred to leave unsaid, for it is not the part of

a true friend to be silent when he should speak. _Mr. Punch_ has

cordially approved every reasonable effort to preserve the memory

of the good Prince whose loss we all deplore. Statues, in far

greater number than ever was accorded to an English Worthy, have

been reared in honour of the lamented Consort. Though it is now

just sixty years since Nelson was laid in St. Paul's, our great

sea-captain's monument is unfinished--we hear nothing at all of the

national monument to our great land-captain, though it is more than

thirteen years since Wellington was laid by the side of Nelson--but

the most splendid and costly of memorials is rapidly rising, in the

Park, in testimony of our veneration for Prince Albert. When this

shall have been completed, will it not be almost time to leave that

good man's fame to take care of itself? Society is at least half

inclined to believe that enough has been done in this way, and it

will not be well that society should begin to smile at persistent

efforts to add tribute to tribute. There is really no fitness in

giving the Prince's name to the medal that is to reward the noblest

of sea-service.

The Prince had no kind of connexion with or special regard for

sea-achievements, though the irreverent may remark that his own

courage was shown when he voyaged, inasmuch as he notoriously

suffered on such occasions more than anyone else on board. Anything

like ridicule should not be permitted to connect itself with an

honoured memory.

The Albert Medal, as we know, was not restricted to those who exhibited

conspicuous gallantry in the rescue of life from shipwreck, and the

remarks we have quoted may very well have contributed to its being

awarded in recognition of heroic deeds on land as well. A fortnight

later a passage quoted from the _New York Herald_ impelled _Punch_ to

reaffirm his loyalty to the Monarchy:--

England is completely prepared to become Republican, but the

undoubted personal popularity of the Queen will probably sustain

the effete monarchy until the time arrives for transmission of the

Crown. But as for an Edward the Seventh, that is out of the

question.

Whereon _Punch_ observes "are there twenty republicans in England,

deducting Bedlam?" On February 6 the Queen opened Parliament in

person:--

The Queen has not performed this ceremony during the last five

years, and the reason for the Sovereign's seclusion would render it

unbecoming for _Mr. Punch_ to say any word upon the subject of Her

reappearance, except that it greatly rejoiced the nation and

himself.

This emergence was welcome, but it was not followed up and did not

satisfy public opinion, as we gather from an appeal made in the

following year:--

The _Pall Mall Gazette_, inviting Her Majesty to resume her

personal sway over society, says:--

"During the first twenty years of Queen Victoria's reign the salons

of London did not reek with tobacco smoke, neither did the noble,

the pure, and the young stagger under red wigs, glare with rouge

and pearl-powder, or leer with painted eyes."

No. Neither do the noble and the pure stagger, glare or leer now.

But if the ignoble, the impure, and some of the young do these

things, and can be deterred from them by royal displeasure,

manifested in the dignified way in which the First Lady would mark

it, we should rejoice to know that the Queen intended to come

forward and do an unwelcome duty. No worthier homage can be offered

to the dead than a painful sacrifice for the sake of the living.

The Crown has direct power over the court-class, and as for the

idiots who parody their patrons, the parody, as we firmly believe,

would be pursued even if great folks took to virtue and going to

church. Which considerations, with the deepest respect, _Mr. Punch_

submits to the notice of his Royal Mistress.

Many of us thought that the lavish use of paint and dye by the young was

a portent of Georgian post-war days: it is something of a surprise,

possibly a relief, to find it was prevalent more than fifty years ago.

From this point onwards one may notice a disposition to acquiesce in the

self-imposed seclusion of the Queen, though any movement towards

breaking it down is at once recognized and welcomed--even such a small

thing as the publication of her _Journal of our Life in the Highlands_.

Thus we read that its issue "on the advice of Mr. Arthur Helps is

likely, if such a thing were possible, to endear her still more to the

loving hearts of her people," and in a set of verses on "The Queen's

Book" the Queen is applauded for her wise and womanly thought:--

What Queen like this was ever known

To take her people to her heart?

When was Queen's household-life so shown

With modest truth and artless art?

The Royal Widow has done well

Thus on her people's love to call,

Her simple wifely tale to tell

And trust her joys and griefs to all.

The writer was evidently well aware that cynics and literary critics

would make fun of the book, but the defence of sincerity comes with

added weight from one who was always on the look out for ineptitudes in

high places.

The announcement of the betrothal of the Princess Louise to the Marquis

of Lorne gave _Punch_ a fine opportunity in the autumn of 1870 of

vindicating his prescience, and simultaneously revealing Thackeray in

the light of a political prophet:--

[Illustration: A (REAL) GERMAN DEFEAT]

[Sidenote: _Thackeray among the Prophets_]

THE ROYAL MARRIAGE

_Mr. Punch_ begs leave to make a distinguished bow to his excellent

(if Conservative) contemporary, the _Bath Chronicle_. That

admirable journal, the studies of whose Conductor are so evidently

in a right direction that the success of the paper is a matter of

course, has turned back to a somewhat remote Number of _Punch_, and

has been amply rewarded by lighting upon an article, which has been

transferred to the columns of the _Bath Chronicle_, with

appropriate remarks, a portion of which _Mr. Punch_ has the utmost

pleasure in reproducing:--

"Twenty-one years ago, in the Number of _Punch_ for February 3,

1849, the late Mr. Thackeray drew an imaginary picture of 'England

in 1869,' in supposed extracts from the newspapers of the period.

One of these, under the heading of 'Marriages of the Royal Family,'

is so applicable to the circumstances of 'England in 1870' that it

is worth reproducing. The humourist would have been amused himself

had he lived to see how nearly he hit the mark. The following is

the paragraph we refer to:--

"'Marriages of the Royal Family.--Why should our Princes and

Princesses be compelled always to seek in Germany for matrimonial

alliances? Are the youths and maidens of England less beautiful

than those of Saxe and Prussia? Are the nobles of our own country,

who have been free for hundreds of years, who have shown in every

clime the genius, the honour, the splendour of Britain--are these,

we ask, in any way inferior to a Prince (however venerable) of

Sachs-Schlippenschloppen, or a Grand Duke of Pigwitz-Gruntenstein?

We would breathe no syllable of disrespect against these

potentates--we recognize in them as in ourselves the same Saxon

blood--but why, we ask, shall not Anglo-Saxon Princes or Princesses

wed with free Anglo-Saxon nobles, themselves the descendants, if

not the inheritors of kings? We have heard in the very highest

quarters rumours which under these impressions give us the very

sincerest delight. We have heard it stated that the august mother

and father of a numerous and illustrious race, whose increase is

dear to the heart of every Briton, have determined no longer to

seek for German alliances for their exalted children, but to look

at home for establishments for those so dear to them. More would be

at present premature. We are not at liberty to mention particulars,

but it is whispered that Her Royal Highness The Princess Boadicea

is about to confer her royal hand upon a young nobleman who is

eldest son of a noble peer who is connected by marriage with our

noble and venerable Premier, with the Foreign and Colonial

Secretaries, and with H.G. the Archbishop of Canterbury. The same

"little bird" also whispers that His Royal Highness, Prince

Hengist, has cast an eye of princely approbation upon a lovely and

accomplished young lady of the highest classes, whose distinguished

parents are "frae the North," whose name is known and beloved

throughout the wide dominions of Britain's sway--in India, at the

Admiralty, at the Home and Colonial Offices and in both Houses of

Parliament.'

"The first part of the prediction is being accomplished with a

literalness that should drive Zadkiel to despair. The Princess

Louise, then a baby not quite a year old, is betrothed to the

eldest son of a nobleman actually in office, who comes 'frae the

North,' and whose name is certainly known in India, seeing that he

is and has for some time been the Secretary of State for India.

Moreover he is connected by marriage with the Foreign Secretary,

Earl Granville, for he married a Gower, the Earl's first cousin,

while as the head of the Campbells he may claim cousinship with the

Earl's second wife, Miss Campbell, of Islay, as well as with the

Archbishop of Canterbury, whose mother was a Campbell."

[Sidenote: _Opposition to Royal Grants_]

When the question of the Princess's dowry and annuity came up in the

House of Commons early in 1871, Parliamentary opposition to Royal grants

reared its head, and _Punch's_ summary of the debate is worth quoting:--

Mr. Gladstone, in a long speech, proposed, and Mr. Disraeli, with a

gesture, seconded the proposal for granting £30,000 as dowry to

Princess Louise, and £6,000 as H.R.H.'s annuity. There was loud

acclamation from all parts of the House, and when Mr. Peter Taylor

rose, hat in hand, to oppose the grant, the resolution had been

carried. Here it may be convenient to add that, at a later stage,

Mr. Taylor, rising amid groans from all sides, opposed the grant,

and Sir Robert Peel expressed regret that a Princess had, by the

advice of Ministers, been allowed to contract herself to the son of

a Minister. Mr. Disraeli, as might be expected, treated the matter

in a much more graceful way, paid a pleasant compliment to the

Marquis of Lorne, and was glad that a Princess had accepted a

Member of the House of Commons. Mr. Gladstone corrected Sir Robert,

saying that deviation from the established rule of Royal marriage

had been advised upon about eighteen months ago, and long before

the engagement to the Marquis. The division was the most amusing

which _Mr. Punch_ has ever chronicled. There were, for the grant,

350; against it, 1. This unit was Mr. Fawcett, but there were

really Three against the grant, namely, himself and two Tellers,

Sir Charles Dilke and Mr. Peter Taylor. The Commons roared lustily,

and the nation echoed the roar.

With a backing which though minute in numbers was strong in intellect,

it was not to be expected that this opposition would disappear. It was

again manifested over the grant to Prince Arthur in the same year, when

_Punch_ advised Sir Charles Dilke to renounce his title if he persisted

in his opposition to royalties, and in 1872 Shirley Brooks gives a

lively account of the debate on the proposed inquiry into the Civil List

on the night of March 19, when Mr. Gladstone treated Sir Charles Dilke

as Ulysses did Thersites:--

Having demolished his man, our Ulysses sat down amid astounding

cheers from the Opposition as well as from his own party. Then

another Aristocrat followed in the wake of the Baronet. The

Honourable Auberon Herbert announced his preference for a Republic.

The row then set in fiercely, and _Mr. Punch_ inclines to draw a

veil over proceedings that did not greatly redound to the credit of

the House of Commons. It is true that they were an index of public

opinion in the matter, but Parliament is expected to be decorous,

and not to allow cock-crowing as an argument. Even the Gallic Cock

could not have behaved worse. The Speaker said that the scene gave

him great pain. Counts were attempted, and then strangers and

reporters were excluded for an hour, and then there was a division

on an attempt at adjournment--negatived by 261 to 23. Mr. Fawcett

opposed the motion in a spirited and sensible speech, and denounced

the mixing up the question of Republicanism with "huckstering and

haggling over the cost of the Queen's household." Finally, there

was division on the motion itself, and the voters for it, including

Tellers, were three Aristocrats, namely, Baronets Dilke and Lawson,

and Mr. Herbert, son of an Earl, and they had one friend, Mr.

Anderson, of Glasgow. Against these Four were, without Tellers, Two

Hundred and Seventy-Six. The House roared with laughter, and soon

went away. The Republican attack on the Queen was about as

contemptible as that by the lad who presented the flintless and

empty pistol the other day; but in the latter case as in the

former, the affair was one for the police, and Constable Gladstone

A1, was quite equal to the occasion.

In the same number appears the cartoon, "Another Empty Weapon," in which

"Little Charley Dilke," with a large horse-pistol labelled "Motion," is

seized by the scruff of the neck by Constable Gladstone A1 as a Royal

State coach is passing by.

[Illustration: A FRENCH LESSON

BRITANNIA: "Is _that_ the sort of thing you want, you little idiot?"]

Dilke returned to the charge again on the marriage of Prince Alfred (the

Duke of Edinburgh) in 1874. How strongly _Punch_ felt on this point may

be gathered from the statement in the _Life of Sir Charles Dilke_ that

Shirley Brooks refused to meet him on account of his Republican

speeches. The subject may be dismissed for the present with the

excellent, if apocryphal, anecdote in rhyme which appeared in _Punch_

under the heading, "A Problem Solved":--

About the Queen the Bart. C. Dilke

Vents talk as acid as sour milk.

_Punch_ wants to know if this be true

Which, told to him, he tells to you--

How a great Lady deigned to wonder

At Charley's anti-Windsor thunder

"His father was so kind and mild--

I knew this gentleman a child:

I've stroked his hair. I sometimes say

I must have stroked it the wrong way."

The Albert Hall was opened on March 28, 1871, and the occasion is seized

to administer a comprehensive rebuke to those who found it easy to laugh

at the Queen, the Prince Consort, King Cole (Sir Henry Cole) and the

Kensington "Boilers." That there were grounds for discontent, and that

it was unwise to overlook the existence of industrial unrest, militant

Radicalism and Republicanism _Punch_ freely admits in the vigorous

doggerel entitled, "Looking Facts in the Face," in which he plays the

part of candid friend to Queen, Lords and Commons alike. After examining

the just causes for discontent at home, the activities of Bradlaugh and

Odger, and the ominous warnings furnished by the Commune and the spread

of the new doctrines of Karl Marx and the Internationalists, _Punch_

continues:--

So we, who don't hold that the world

To come right must be set topsy-turvy,

Those now at the helm from it hurled,

And their place taken _crassâ Minervâ_,

Had better look squalls in the face,

Make snug for a douche and a drenching,

And--Queen, Lords, and Commons--embrace

The supports that will stand the most wrenching.

Were I Queen, I'd not so play my _rôle_,

As if bent to prove those right who flout me,

And show, while folks pay the Crown toll,

How well things can go on without me.

Were I Lord, Folly's gales I would thwart,

Not by spreading my sails, but by furling 'em:

Nor expose my prestige to be caught

In the traps of the Gun Club and Hurlingham.

Were I in the Commons, I'd strive

More than one Bill a Session to carry;

Nor abreast all my 'buses to drive,

Till all in a block have to tarry.

As Queen, Lords, or Commons, in fine,

My course by the chart were I making,

I should take just the opposite line

To that Queen, Lords, and Commons are taking.

This was the first time that Karl Marx was mentioned in _Punch_. As for

Odger, who is alluded to in the same verses, it may be recalled that at

a meeting at Leicester held in this autumn he was credited with the

statement that "me and my colleagues have resolved that the Prince of

Wales shall never ascend the throne."

[Sidenote: _Anti-Monarchical Sentiment_]

There was undoubtedly a strong wave of anti-monarchical sentiment in

England in 1871. It was not confined to agitators or extremists, but

found utterance in organs which represented moderate opinion. Lord

Morley in his _Life of Gladstone_ quotes from the _Pall Mall Gazette_ of

September 29, 1871, to illustrate the depth and wide range of this

discontent. He might very well have quoted _Punch_ also as documentary

evidence. _The Political History of England_ sums up the grounds of this

resentment among friendly critics not unfairly: "Ten years' seclusion

from social activity and public duty seemed an excessive indulgence in

the luxury of sorrow." The sympathy stirred by the Queen's illness in

September, 1871, marked the beginning of a reaction; the acute anxiety

"aroused by the dangerous illness of the Prince of Wales in the

following December, and the subsequent rejoicings on his recovery, did

much to improve the relations between Crown and people"; and _Punch_

quotes the Queen's message of thanks to the nation as the most

"acceptable Christmas gift which could have been bestowed on a loyal and

affectionate people." In the verses on the Thanksgiving Service in St.

Paul's on February 27 he is at pains to meet the sneers of those who

only saw:--

A Queen, and Prince and Princess, and their Court,

And coaches passing to St. Paul's to prayer;

To settle scores with Heaven in stately sort:--

A Show for once! and _our_ shows are so rare.

But the defensive tone is soon dropped for one of congratulation:

Happy the Queen that can, love-guarded, go

Still, through a prayerful capital, to pray

Happy among these million hearts to know

Not one but beats in tune with hers to-day.

It was reserved, however, for later historians to detect in the renewed

political activity of the Queen evidence of her distrust in the foreign

policy of Gladstone. Among the signs of the times which mark the close

of this period and the great Conservative revival which followed, few

are more curious than the cartoon headed, "A Brummagem Lion," inspired

by the visit to Birmingham of the Prince and Princess of Wales and the

courtesy displayed by Mr. Joseph Chamberlain as mayor, in spite of his

Radical proclivities.

[Illustration: A BRUMMAGEM LION]

The references to foreign potentates and their relations with the

British Court show little abatement of _Punch's_ old distrust and

hostility. Of the French Emperor's flying visit to Osborne in 1857 we

read that it was "strictly private--none but policemen were admitted."

The most friendly allusion to the Empress Eugénie refers to her having

ridden in an ordinary hansom cab during a visit to England _incog._ in

1860. For the rest she is repeatedly attacked for her extravagance in

dress, for dabbling in spiritualism, and for her interference in

politics and support of the Papal pretensions. "Everyone has his

oracle," says _Punch_ late in 1862.... "Didn't Numa Pompilius have his

Egeria? Why, then, shouldn't Pius have his Eugenia?" In the same year

she is abused for attending a bull-fight, and satirized in a cartoon

representing the Emperor as Hercules and the Empress as Omphale. _Punch_

waxes indignant at the patronage extended by the Emperor to the variety

stage in 1866, and wonders whether the infection will reach our Court.

But his imagination entirely failed to forecast the bestowal of

decorations on the heroes of the music-hall. We have moved since then. A

famous story is told of Queen Victoria in her later years sending an

Equerry to inquire the name of a lively air which had been played by

her Court band. The Equerry returned to say that it was a popular song

of the day. The Queen was dissatisfied and instructed him to find out

and let her know the words. The Equerry went back, returned and

proceeded to recite the classic stanza:--

Come where the booze is cheaper;

Come where the pots hold more;

Come where the boss is a bit of a Joss,

Come to the pub. next door.

There the story unfortunately ends, without the Queen's comment. But in

the pages of _Punch_ we read how in 1869, when the Constitutional

_régime_ had just been inaugurated in France under Emile Ollivier, the

programme of one of the Queen's State concerts included "Heaven Preserve

the Emperor, with variations," which prompts _Punch_ to ask, "Would not

this do for the French National Anthem?" In 1865 _Punch_ devoted a

cartoon to commemorate the completion of fifty years of peace between

England and France, and in 1869 another on the centenary of the first

Napoleon. With the catastrophe of 1870, Sedan and its sequel of exile

and suffering, _Punch's_ hostility changed to compassion, and his _In

memoriam_ verses on the Emperor, though too laboured and too frequently

disfigured by inversions to attain to the dignity of poetry, form one of

the best of contemporary summaries and estimates of the career and

character of the dead ruler:--

Already scores of ready penmen draft

Of his life's course to power their bird's-eye view,

Through poverty and perjury and craft,

And redder stains that the blurred track imbrue.

Let whoso will count of his faults the cost,

And point a moral in his saddened end;

This is the thought in England uppermost--

He who has died among us, lived our friend.

If sinners may by suffering, too, be shriven,

What penance those lost years had to sustain!

The sting of fall and failure deeper driven

By the dull stroke of slow and sleepless pain.

* * * * *

The time to weigh him fairly is not now;

Nor are the true weights any France can bring:

That sprang to fix the crown upon his brow,

And her own neck beneath his feet to fling.

Heavily both have answered for their sin:

Nor did the Emperor heavier fall undo,

Than France, that backed him still while he could win,

Nor turned against him till the luck turned too.[13]

But now 'tis England, and not France that stands

Silent beside an Exile's dying bed,

Mindful of kindness received by his hands,

Sorrowing with those that sorrow for their dead.

[Sidenote: _French Emperor and Prussian King_]

_Punch_, as was made clear in the previous volume, was no lover of

Prussian rule. On the eve of the war on Denmark he published a truly

ferocious attack on King Wilhelm:--

THE SONG OF HOHENZOLLERN

Air--"The Standard Bearer."

I am a King; I reign by Right Divine,

As did my sires some hundred years before me;

Howe'er their crown was got, I came to mine,

Obey me then, O people, and adore me.

My seat I plant upon mine ancient Throne,

And order back the waves of Revolution.

My will the law, I sit supreme, alone,

My footstool is the Prussian Constitution.

Tsar Alexander's cause mine own I've made,

Regardless of the blame of any journal.

To crush the Poles I render him my aid;

Help him enforce his discipline paternal.

I lend a hand to catch the runaway,

The fugitive hand over to the slaughter;

And, on my mind, whatever you may say

Makes no more mark than what blows leave in water.

I'm called the Hangman's Cad, and I don't care

For that dishonourable appellation.

I carry Poland's garbage to the Bear,

Serene amid the loudest execration.

My mind is bent on arbitrary rule;

In policy I copy my late Brother.

If you presume to say he was a fool,

You'll very likely dare call me another.

Hostility to Prussia did not abate in the succeeding years, and in 1866

indignation is expressed at a rumour that the Queen was about to visit

Germany. A general friendliness towards King Victor Emmanuel did not

prevent _Punch_ from insinuating that he had sold his birthright to the

French Emperor, and from expressing the fear that Sardinia as well as

Savoy would be ceded to France. The most that can be said of his

treatment of the Tsar Alexander II is that it was not quite so

vehemently hostile as that meted out to his father. As early as January,

1862, we read that "the Russian Empire, with its body of brass and its

feet of clay, will, if it does not take care, be requiring some support

some day, to keep it up, on account of the extreme 'weakness of its

legs.'"

The annals of Royalty, outside England, certainly afforded little scope

for admiration. But the year 1865 was enlivened by a humorous instance

of misplaced monarchical ambition. The King of Abyssinia, who had

detained certain British subjects as prisoners, "was said to have

favoured Queen Victoria with an offer of marriage, and to have

imprisoned her lieges in revenge for her non-appreciation of his dusky

love."

[Footnote 13: _Punch_ notes that not a single shop was closed in Paris

on the day of the Emperor's funeral.]

GENERAL SOCIAL LIFE

From a variety of causes, most of which have been already discussed,

reformers, humanitarians and critics of the established order generally

display less resentment and acrimony throughout the mid-Victorian

period. We have already hinted that the mellowing of _Punch's_ temper

may have been due in part to the death of Douglas Jerrold. But the fact

remains that _Punch_ had already begun to find less incentive to and

less excuse for the _saeva indignatio_ which animated his earlier

tirades against the aristocracy, and the selfish detachment of the

titled classes. The spectacle of the Cream of Society disporting

themselves at Cremorne to the exclusion of the general public is

satirized in 1858, but the satire is tempered by the admission that this

aristocratic "jamboree" was organized for a charitable purpose and

brought in substantial proceeds. An analysis of the special butts of

_Punch's_ satire reveals the interesting fact that, while not enjoying a

complete immunity from criticism, the dukes are not only displaced from

their unenviable pre-eminence, they almost disappear as targets for

invective. We find attacks on the promotion of "well-connected

politicians" _à propos_ of Lord Clanricarde's appointment as Privy Seal

in 1858; and verses in the same year on the worship of the peerage, with

"John Bull loves a lord" as text, but the flunkeydom of the Press is

already a far less frequent theme of scarifying comment. _Punch's_

favourite occupation as the reviler of "Jenkins" was gone by the

'sixties, but snobbery in high places was not dead. Sir Benjamin Brodie,

Sergeant-Surgeon to William IV and Queen Victoria, had been made a

baronet in 1834; in 1858, when he was President of the Royal Society,

there was some talk of his being made a peer, and _Punch_ in December of

that year bitterly attacked the influences and prejudices which he

believed were effectual in preventing the bestowal of the honour.

[Illustration: EXCLUSIVENESS

HOST: "Nice party, ain't it, Major Le Spunger? 'Igh and low, rich and

poor--_most_ people are welcome to _this_ 'ouse! This is 'Liberty 'All,'

_this_ is! No false pride or 'umbug about _me_! I'm a self-made man, _I_

am!"

THE MAJOR: "Very nice party, indeed, Mr. Shoddy! How proud your father

and mother must feel! Are _they_ here?"

HOST: "Well, no! 'Ang it all, you know, one _must_ draw the line

somewhere!"]

[Sidenote: _Peers and Commerce_]

The reign of the old nobility, however, was not merely threatened by

outspoken criticism. The situation crystallized in the title of the

play, _New Men and Old Acres_, was already a real thing; prosperous

cotton-spinners were beginning to buy estates; by 1865 _Punch_ was

contrasting the new representatives of the landed interest with their

feudal predecessors--very much to the disadvantage of the former--and by

the 'seventies the contrast was a favourite theme of Du Maurier.

Simultaneously the converse tendency of the aristocracy to go into trade

is noted, but with little sympathy. Thus we find in 1863 the prospectus

of the Noble Hotel-keepers' Association (Limited) headed by a list of

parasitic peers, including the Duke of Dangleton, the Duke of Dawdleton,

the Duke of Diddleton, the Marquis of Hardupton, the Earl of Toadington,

Viscount Ortolan, the Lord Verisopht, Sir Lionel Rattlecash, Bart., and

so on; and a double-page cartoon shows the scene in the coffee-room of

one of the Hotels in which "gents" of different types are being waited

on by coronetted and bewhiskered peers. Greed rather than business

capacity is indicated as the characteristic of the new recruits of

commerce, and the annals of the last fifty years have furnished

disastrous and even tragic examples of the results of this titled

invasion of the City. Experience has shown that on the whole it is safer

to gain a peerage by success in commerce than to exploit a peerage as a

short cut to making money.

[Illustration: AN INVESTMENT

"Tell me, my dear, who's that little man they all seem so dotingly fond

of?"

"_That_, Uncle? Oh, that's Lord Alberic Lackland!"

"Well, he's not much to look at!"

"No, poor fellow! But he's awfully hard up, and Mamma always likes to

have a lord at her dances, so Papa gives him ten guineas to come--that

is, _lends_ it, you know--and a guinea extra for every time my brother

Bob calls him _Ricky_!"]

Commercialism in high places offended _Punch's_ notion of _noblesse

oblige_. Much the same sentiment inspired his vehement protest against

our selling the house in which Napoleon died at St. Helena for 180,000

francs: "We have an especial dislike to this traffic in a great man's

grave. It is turning the funeral urn into a money-box with a

vengeance--the vengeance of a miserly shopkeeper." On the other hand,

complaints of extravagance and waste, though not so strident as of late

years, are freely uttered in connexion with official dinners or loyal

demonstrations--for example, when the Prince and Princess of Wales

visited Chester in 1869, the Mayor's subscription alone amounted to

£500.

In the domain of Commerce and Economics no movement in the Victorian age

was more fruitful of results than that of co-operation. But a history of

the system which began with Owen, took concrete shape in the famous

venture of the Rochdale Pioneers in 1844--twenty-eight working men with

a capital of £38--and led to the multiplication of Workmen's

Co-operative Societies all over the country, is outside the limits of

this survey. The movement came from below; _Punch_ was mainly if not

entirely interested in its development as it affected the well-to-do

classes by the establishment of "the Stores," and their competition with

retail shops, and in the grievances of purchasers and their servants who

had to carry their parcels home--grievances which reach their climax in

the year 1868. In other words, he approaches the subject as an

irresponsible social satirist, not as a student of economics. His pages

only show the froth of the movement, not its deep underlying current.

So, too, with the cult of Social Science. The periodic Congresses

furnished him in the main with matter for chaff, though in 1858 he

appeals to the moral engineers of the Social Science Association to

devise some means of utilizing "social sewage"--swindlers, fraudulent

bankers and trustees. The shortcomings of British cookery always found

in _Punch_ a candid critic, but he had no sympathy for those journalists

who sought to remedy the deficiency by the publication of elaborate and

expensive daily _menus_. Such instruction was a mockery to the poor who

had not enough to eat, and did not know how to cook the little they had.

[Sidenote: _Banting and "Hydros"_]

An interesting treatise might be written on Victorian diseases and their

remedies. The worship of pastime, exercise and athletics was still in

its infancy; whatever its drawbacks, it has undoubtedly given a new

lease of life to the middle-aged. Obesity, due in great measure to

over-eating and lack of exercise, was the nightmare of the well-to-do,

and, if proof be required of the statement, one need only refer to the

success of the movement initiated by Banting. Inasmuch as he was a

fashionable undertaker--he was responsible for the construction of the

Duke of Wellington's funeral car--there was an element of

disinterestedness in his efforts to promote longevity. He was also a

living example of the virtue of his method, for he reduced himself many

stones in weight by the use of non-fat-producing foods. "He had a

whalebone frame made to fit his once large waistcoats and coats, and

wore the whole over his reduced size--removing this armour to produce a

full effect."[14] His famous letter to the Press "On Corpulence" rang

through the land: his name was a household word in the 'sixties, and he

enriched our vocabulary with a noun and verb which are enshrined in the

classic pages of the _New English Dictionary_, though they are

practically unknown to the Georgian generation. Hustle and exercise and

nerves have removed the evil against which he warred, and in an age in

which excessive bulk is a rarity, the name of Banting has passed into

semi-oblivion. But _Punch's Almanack_ for 1864 is full of it and him,

and for a good many years Banting was as familiar in the mouths of men

as Pussyfoot is to-day.

The campaign against over-indulgence was not confined to an attack on

starch, fat and sugar. In the 'fifties hydropathy had come to stay, and

in the 'sixties hydropathic establishments were to be found all over the

British islands and in America, though the abbreviation of "hydro" was

not introduced till later. Fortunes were made--and lost--in these

institutions, and they still exist, though some of the most sumptuous

"hydros" have undergone curious vicissitudes and conversions. One of the

best known of all was used as a girls' school during the War. But the

rigour of the water-cure treatment was only enforced in the early years

of the movement; proprietors gradually realized that it did not pay to

run their establishments as uncomfortable hospitals, and with a laxer

administration the whole system fell somewhat into discredit. The

convivial _Punch_ never smiled on it, as may be gathered from the

verses he printed in March, 1869, when hydropathy was still in its

prime, on "Sound Port and Principles." They must not, however, be taken

to represent _Punch's_ own views, for he was no lover of guzzling. The

poem is really a satire, but it is partly inspired by _Punch's_

inveterate dislike of the teetotal fanatics.

[Footnote 14: See "Bant" in _Passing English of the Victorian Era_, by

J. Redding Ware.]

Surgery was active, though the days of appendicitis and adenoids were

still a long way off. _Punch_, however, was more interested in mental

maladies and the pathology of the social system. The Victorian age had

no monopoly of superstition and credulity, but prophets and

spiritualists and diviners reaped a rich harvest in the 'fifties and

'sixties. The comet of 1857 caused a good deal of anxiety, so much so,

that in December of that year an insolvent butcher gave as a reason for

his failure "the loss he had sustained in June, when the comet was

expected, by a large quantity of meat being spoilt." Dr. Cumming was

assiduous in prophesying the end of the world, but unfortunately _Punch_

ascertained that the doctor had renewed the lease of his house for fifty

years, and the prophet's defence of his action did not mend matters:--

_Mr. Punch_ finds in a Liverpool journal the following part of a

lecture which Dr. Cumming has been delivering on Prophecy:--

"He had been, he said, taunted in the columns of _Punch_ with

having, notwithstanding his belief that the world was to come to an

end in 1867, recently renewed the lease of his cottage for 50

years. The accusation, he said, although not literally, was

generally true, but his answer to it was, that a belief in prophecy

should not override commonsense. The doctor was frequently

applauded throughout his eloquent lecture."

And by no person should he have been applauded more loudly than by

_Mr. Punch_, if that gentleman had had the good fortune to be in

the schoolroom at Claughton, where the lecture is reported to have

been delivered. The last quoted sentence is so admirably frank that

_Mr. Punch_ cannot withhold his tribute of veneration. In other

words, although it is all very well, in the way of business, to

work the old Hebrew scrolls, which boil down into capital stock for

the rather thin yet spicy soup vended by our Doctor, he has no

notion of eating his own cookery. We wish we were as certain of our

friend's orthography as we are of his commonsense, and would give a

trifle (say the next three hundred Tupperian sonnets) to know

whether, in his private ledger, he does not spell Prophets as

worldly people spell the opposite of Losses.

[Illustration: A SPIRIT RAPPING SEANCE!

MR. FOXER (a medium): "Oh, dear! There's a spirit named Walker writing

on my arm!"]

[Sidenote: "_Diviners and Dupes_"]

The chief exploiters of credulity, however, were to be found in the

ranks of spiritualists, mediums, clairvoyantes and professional

somnambulists. Men of science still held aloof from this traffic with

the unseen, and its terminology was crude, but the methods and results

were strangely familiar. Spirit drawings, forerunners of spirit

photographs, are mentioned as early as 1857. Under the heading of

"Diviners and Dupes" _Punch_ deals harshly with the advertisements of

the clairvoyantes and diviners, and once more returns to his familiar

complaint against the harrying of humble fortune-tellers while

fashionable impostors escaped:--

The gipsies are hardly dealt with in being convicted as rogues and

vagabonds for telling fortunes by the cards or the palm of the

hand, whilst practitioners in Clairvoyance get their hands crossed

with silver, or with postage-stamps, with perfect impunity. There

is clearly one law for the Romany, and another for Somnambulists.

David Dunglas Home, born near Edinburgh, of Scottish parents, and

descended on his mother's side from a family supposed to be gifted with

second sight, returned in 1856 from America where he had spent his youth

and early manhood, and in 1860, when he was at the zenith of his fame,

elicited a scoffing tribute from _Punch_ under the heading, "Home, Great

Home." The first stanza of this poem, which is accompanied by a picture

representing a spirit hand placing a wreath on the head of a lady with a

goose's head, refers to Home's famous feats of "levitation" or rising in

the air as if impelled by some unknown force. _Punch_ was stubbornly

sceptical of the whole business. But if any medium ever deserved the

title of "great" it was Home. Did he not inspire Browning to write his

famous "Sludge, the Medium"--though Mrs. Browning is said to have been a

believer? Anyhow, the list of his converts is too remarkable to justify

_Punch's_ contemptuous disparagement. It included Dr. Robert Chambers,

Dr. Lockhart Robertson, the editor of the _Journal of Mental Science_,

John Elliotson, a distinguished physiologist, S. C. Hall, the Earl of

Crawford and Balcarres, F.R.S., the Earl of Dunraven, and the late Sir

William Crookes, F.R.S. Home was received into the Church of Rome and

had an audience of the Pope in 1856, and eight years later was expelled

from Rome as a sorcerer--a tremendous testimony to his powers. He

married twice into the Russian _noblesse_, his first wife being a

god-daughter of the Tsar Nicholas, and he gave repeated _séances_ before

his son Alexander II. The infatuation of the Russian Court for

wonder-workers and miracle-mongers was hereditary, and of late years

became tragically notorious, but Home was received with equal favour by

the King of Prussia, the Emperor and Empress of the French, and the

Queen of Holland. The "Spiritual Athenæum" (no connexion, need one say,

with the august institution at the corner of Pall Mall) which he founded

in 1866 had but a short life, and the gift of £60,000, which he received

from a rich widow, was revoked as the result of a Chancery suit, the

lady alleging he had obtained it by spiritual influence. But we have it

on the authority of the D.N.B. that he "was not a professional medium,

and scrupulously abstained from taking money for his _séances_," which

answers _Punch's_ sneer at his lucrative traffic with spirits. The

writer of the notice concludes with the words, "his history presents a

curious and unsolved problem." Taken all round, he was by far the most

remarkable personality in spiritualistic circles in the nineteenth

century, and "imagination's widest stretch" fails to shadow forth the

influence he might have exerted had he flourished sixty years later. Let

us be thankful that he lived when he did, and freely own that, if an

impostor, he was an impostor of genius and emphatically not a Rasputin.

[Sidenote: _Mediums and Faith-healers_]

Alongside of Home's manifestations, the exploits of other Victorian

mediums dwindle into insignificance. But they furnished _Punch_ with

food for ridicule, as when the Nottingham spiritualists in 1863

suggested the writing of a new Bible from their direct revelations; or

when an American clairvoyante published, and distributed in Great

Britain, her claims to having made "the greatest discovery ever made,"

viz., "Mediation Writing, direct to and from the spirit world, in One

Minute, without any mechanism, except Pen, Ink and Paper." Her claim to

have communicated with Shakespeare gave _Punch_ a special opportunity,

for it was the year of the Tercentenary, and the Bard of Avon must have

had the whole history of the squabbles which beset that luckless

undertaking inflicted upon him by the American lady. More interesting to

us, however, is the reference to success achieved by legitimate

conjurers in imitating the manifestations of spiritualists. For in 1860

the late Mr. Maskelyne had already exposed the Davenport Brothers, and

greatly surpassed any feats they had accomplished in the way of

levitation and the materializing of spirit forms. But _populus vult

decipi: decipiatur_; and the game went on. Home was much in evidence in

1870 in the provinces and in Belgravian drawing-rooms, flying "by

miracle up to the ceiling, And carrying hot coals on pate or palm, no

inconvenience feeling." And in the same year there appeared Dr. Newton,

an American faith-healer, or "healing medium," as he was called,

... Out-Homing Home, and curing folks' diseases,

Giving blind and dumb, and deaf and halt, eyes, ears, tongues, legs

as he pleases;

By laying his hands upon them, and bidding their ailments begone,

And doing it all for love, and not money--the downy one!

And for all our march of intellect, and our monarchy of mind,

There's never a Reynard the Fox, but he draws his tail of fools

behind;

And there's never a quack that quacks, but he finds green geese to

echo his quacking,

And never a swindler that lowers his trawl, and finds the flat fish

lacking!

[Illustration: "THE OLD MAN OF THE SEA"

SINBAD (as representing the British Public): "I can't be expected to

attend to any of _you_, with this 'Interesting Topic' on my shoulders!"]

As Dr. Newton professed to cure diseases partly by mesmerism, partly by

the aid of "disembodied assistants," the spiritualist newspapers waxed

lyrical in his praise, while _Punch_ contented himself with pointing out

the entire absence of any expert verification of his alleged miracles.

If it almost amounted to a privilege to be imposed on by so splendid and

well-connected an impostor as Home, the famous Tichborne case exhibited

Victorian credulity in a less favourable light. Home's influence was

confined to the well-to-do, even well-educated dupes. Though he toured

the provinces, lectured and read poetry with considerable acceptance, he

was most in his element among the "classes" and in Belgravia. The

Claimant's appeal was far wider: he was the hero of the masses and of

all the great army of the half-baked. Yet the element of romance was not

wanting: there is always something "arresting," as the moderns say, in

the emergence of a missing heir; everything connected with the business

was on a huge scale--beginning with the physique of the Claimant

himself, who weighed twenty-four stone--and at its worst it was far

removed from the squalors of "Brides in Bath" and other modern trials.

The unshaken belief of the Dowager Lady Tichborne was a great asset; the

extraordinary astuteness of Orton in veiling his colossal ignorance and

turning the hints of his cross-examiners to good account extorted

reluctant admiration even from those most convinced of his guilt. There

never was a greater example of the saying that "one lie is the father of

many." The force of circumstances was too strong for him. It is

generally believed that he would have abandoned his claim long before

the first trial but for the pressure of his creditors. He was a

seven-years incubus on England, but throughout the whole affair he

showed a sort of perverted bulldog tenacity which accounted largely for

his popularity.

The notices in _Punch_ begin early in 1867 when, in an illustrated

chronicle of the previous month, one of the entries reads, "Sir Roger

Tichborne arrived from Australia, after many years absence, and was at

once recognized as 'the rightful heir.'" The crescendo of excitement and

interest went on for nearly four years before the case came into court.

The first action opened on May 11, 1871, and two months later _Punch_

bore witness to its devastating influence on social life:--

GROANS OF THE PERIOD

_Vox Clamantis in Deserto:_

"_Tichborne--Orton--quid refert, O!_"

Who, this side the Channel Ditch born,

Can escape the talk of Tichborne?

What would I not give in payment,

To hear no more of "the Claimant"!

Sure as Death to poor or rich born,

Comes the inevitable Tichborne,

Till with cursing, like a raiment,

One is fain to clothe "the Claimant."

To what realm, by wind or witch borne,

Can I flee from talk of Tichborne?

Was life to July from May meant,

To be given up to "the Claimant"?

Patient I've seen ache and stitch borne,

But what's that to talk of Tichborne?

O, ye Doctors, make essayment

Of some cure for chatt'ring Claimant,

Worse to kill than grass called twitch born,

The still springing talk of Tichborne.

All ask what his little game meant:

All are pro or con "the Claimant."

* * * * *

Unto boredom's highest niche borne,

There enshrine the name of Tichborne;

Crest: two tongues, approuvant, blamant--

Motto: "Rogerne an Arthur Claimant?"

[Sidenote: "_Poor, Persecuted Sir Roger_"]

When, after 102 days' hearing, the jury declined to hear any further

evidence on March 5, 1872, _Punch_ joyfully recorded "the collapse of

an audacious attempt at robbery, supported by one of the most cruel and

dastardly slanders ever devised by rogues in council," and rejoiced in

the thought that the folks who lent money in aid of the scheme (by

investing in Tichborne bonds) had lost it all. The same number contains

a cartoon bearing the inscription, "The Monster Slain," showing _Punch_

saluting Sir John Coleridge, who is standing, armed with the Sword of

British Justice, on the prostrate form of the Claimant disguised as a

dragon. To the dragon _Punch_ gave the name of "The Waggawock"--a

"portmanteau-word" compounded of Wagga-Wagga (where the claimant had

lived in Australia) and Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwock," and proceeded to

dress that prophetic and mystical poem in plain English.

[Illustration: ONE OF THE "SYMPATHIZERS"

JEAMES: "I'm afraid, me Lady, I'll require to leave you."

LADY: "Why?"

JEAMES: "Well, me Lady, I can't agree with Master's suckasms against

that poor, persecuted Sir Roger."]

_Punch's_ "chortling" was a trifle premature: two years had yet to

elapse before England was finally rid of her "old man of the sea." In

April, 1872, we find a picture representing a flunkey giving notice to

his mistress, and when asked for his reason saying, "Well, me Lady, I

can't agree with Master's suckasms against that poor, persecuted Sir

Roger." The egregious Mr. Whalley, M.P. for Peterborough, at a meeting

of 3,000 supporters of the claimant held at Southampton in June, spoke

vehemently in his defence. There is a statue of Dr. Watts in Southampton

Park, and _Punch_ suggested that if these admirers decided to erect one

to "Sir Roger" by its side, they should sing, at its unveiling, one of

Watts' _Divine and Moral Songs_ which begins:--

O 'tis a pleasant thing for youth

To walk betimes in wisdom's way--

To fear a lie, to speak the truth

That we may trust to all they say.

The "Waggawock" was not really slain until February 28, 1874, when after

a second gigantic trial lasting 188 days, the claimant was found guilty

of perjury and sentenced to fourteen years' penal servitude. But his

backers, mortified by the loss of the money they had invested in him,

lent a ready ear to those, like Whalley, who ascribed the persecution to

a Jesuit conspiracy. The agitation did not subside until Dr. Kenealy,

who had led for the defence, who had been disbarred for breaches of

professional etiquette, and was returned to Parliament to advocate the

claimant's cause, was defeated by 433 votes to 1 on his motion to refer

the conduct of the trial and the guilt or innocence of the prisoner to a

Royal Commission. The Tichborne case remains for all time a rich

treasure-house of materials for psychologists interested in the _Esprit

de la Foule_; _Punch_ in his punning days would have spelt the last word

differently. It also furnishes a conspicuous and ignoble example of the

insular detachment which prevailed in a period of "splendid isolation"

and non-intervention. At the time when France, beaten to the dust, was

agonizing in the throes of the Commune, England was preoccupied and

obsessed by this gross and impudent pretender. He certainly made, and

unmade, reputations at the Bar and left behind one immortal translation

in the course of the cross-examination designed to test his knowledge

of the classics--"The Laws of God for Ever" for _Laus Deo Semper_--but

he was a national nuisance as well as a criminal, for he not only ruined

himself but discredited thousands of his countrymen whose credulity had

been reinforced by greed.

[Sidenote: _Sport and Pastime_]

The craze for sensational or dangerous exhibitions so frequently rebuked

by _Punch_ in connexion with the performances of Blondin and his

imitators cannot be regarded as a specially Victorian weakness. Over

pugilism and prize-fighting, as illustrated by the historic contest

between Heenan and Sayers in 1860, he could wax enthusiastic. Sayers, by

the way, was alleged to have earned £85,000 in one year, a sum which

compares not unfavourably with the gains of modern champions. It was an

age of non-intervention, but more robust in the expression of likes and

dislikes, passions and prejudices, and in some respects less humane or

refined in its pleasures. Sporting wagers which resulted in the riding

of horses to death were growing rarer but had not altogether died out.

The noble pastime of Alpine climbing was already established in 1858,

but the combined attractions of healing waters and gambling tables were

a more potent attraction to wearied legislators of the gilded breed. The

manners of the British traveller were not always above reproach, and

_Punch_ in his Almanack for that year, employs his ironical method to

explain our unpopularity:--

WHY ENGLISHMEN ARE BELOVED UPON THE CONTINENT

Because they are always so careful to abstain from either word or

action, which, in any way, might hurt the feelings of a foreigner.

Because they never institute odious comparisons between things in

general abroad and those they've left at home, unless indeed it is

to the disparagement of the latter.

Because they never brag about the "freedom of a British subject,"

in countries which are under a despotic form of government.

Because they speak so fluently in any continental language, and

always are so affable when publicly accosted by a stranger, and so

ready at all times to enter into conversation with those they may

be travelling with.

Because they don't bawl for beer at a first-class table d'hôte, nor

make wry faces at the wine as though it disagreed with them.

Because they never in the least let trifles put them out, and

however much they are annoyed they do their utmost to conceal it,

instead of (as has been maliciously asserted) seizing with delight

on every opportunity to give their temper vent, and express

themselves dissatisfied with everything that's done for them.

Because whatever provocation they may think they have received,

they are so careful not to let strong language pass their lips; and

so far from making extracts from the Commination Service, are never

heard to use an exclamation more forcible than "Dear me!" or "Now

really, how provoking!"

A few years later _Punch_ took up the cudgels on the other side, but the

rebuke here administered was undoubtedly deserved. Foreign travel,

however, was restricted by the passport trouble in 1858, and _Punch_ saw

in the restriction a chance for the native hotel-keeper, if he would

only reduce his charges.

It was not exactly a temperate age. Heavy meals and copious potations

play an important part in Dickens's novels; and a great many men ate and

drank a great deal more than was good for them. Abernethy's method of

dealing with the voracious Alderman might still have been profitably

followed by Victorian practitioners. But we say "men" advisedly, for

there is no evidence that women gorged and guzzled, certainly none to

support the fantastic account of English dinner parties given by a

French writer and reproduced in 1861 by _Punch_ with characteristic

comments:--

"At a dinner party the ladies retire into another room, after

having partaken very moderately of wine; and while the gentlemen

empty bottles of Port, Madeira, Claret and Champagne, it is a

constant habit among the ladies to empty bottles of brandy."

[Sidenote: _The National Type_]

The extract is taken from a book on _Les Anglais, Londres et

L'Angleterre_, with an introduction by no less eminent an authority than

M. Emile de Girardin, who vouched for its accuracy. According to the

writer the English cared for nothing but roast beef, porter, and

spirits. They were "averse to contemplation," had not the remotest

conception of grace or feeling, their "climate, coarse food, and black

drink being utterly opposed to any mental refinement. To possess taste

it is necessary to possess soul, and a large soul; and the English

possess nothing but appetite." It was a gross libel, but the

misconception was mutual, and _Punch_ had done a great deal to foster it

by his persistent representation of the "Mossoo" as a mere figure of

fun. And let it never be forgotten that the notion of the English as a

gross and crapulous race was in great measure due to our caricaturists,

Gillray and Rowlandson, and even Hogarth. We chose the beefy, burly,

sixteen-stone top-booted farmer as the national type, and we have

retained it long after "John Bull" ceased to be typical of the breed

physically. It became a caricature, but we have only ourselves to blame

if foreign artists caricatured our own caricature. The process of the

mutual discovery of France and England has moved far since the 'sixties,

and has reached its climax (on the French side) in _Les Silences du

Colonel Bramble_, by our good friend M. André Maurois--a work recently

described by Mr. H. A. L. Fisher as "the best psychological study of the

English character ever written by a foreigner."

[Illustration: Brougham Drives Up--Two Ladies in Toxophilite Costume on

the Box, One Driving--Pair of Top-booted Legs Sticking Out of Window.

DRIVING LADY (loq.): "Oh, Frank, dear, only fancy, George has got so

tipsy at the Archery Meeting, that we've been obliged to put him inside,

and drive home ourselves--and poor Clara has pinched her fingers

dreadfully putting on the drag, coming down Blunsden Hill!"]

The social history of any period may be studied in its lions, and, if

the truth be told, in 1861 Du Chaillu and the Gorilla loom larger than

Darwin in the pages of _Punch_, though the _Origin of Species_ is

described as "a book of much worth." _Punch_ was not much interested in

the theological controversy involved, though he naturally made play

later on with Disraeli's famous "Apes and Angels" speech at Oxford.

Disraeli was dubbed the new "Angelical Doctor," and in a famous cartoon

is exhibited as dressing for an Oxford _bal masqué_, with a contemptuous

set of verses on his bewildering versatility, his impartial hostility to

Tractarians and Broad Churchmen, winding up with the warning:--

Yet scarce the best mimes can from Nature escape,

And what's simious to saintly brooks change ill;

Have a care lest thou then should be most of the ape,

When most bent on enacting the Angel.

Another and earlier poem is mainly concerned with the lively disputes

that broke out between Huxley and Owen and between rival geologists. Du

Chaillu's claims were hotly contested; his book was treated by some

critics as a collection of traveller's tales, and his meridional

exuberance of manner and diction inspired scepticism among some cautious

scientists. But _Punch_ espoused his cause--attracted, no doubt, by his

championship of Livingstone--promoted the gorilla to the rank of the

"Lion of the Season" in May, 1861, and in due course of time Du

Chaillu's veracity was substantially confirmed by later explorers.

[Illustration: DRESSING FOR AN OXFORD _BAL MASQUÉ_

"The question is, Is man an ape or an angel? (_A laugh._) Now, I am on

the side of the angels." (_Cheers._)--

Mr. Disraeli's _Oxford Speech, Nov. 25, 1864_.]

There were lionesses as well as lions in the 'sixties, and the year 1864

was marked by a new and momentous apparition--that of the American woman

of fashion. Hitherto America had sent us only social and dress

reformers, but the arrival of the "elegant and fascinating American

young lady" was an event which did not escape the vigilance of _Punch_.

The War was still raging, and, as we know, he regarded the antagonists

with almost equal disfavour; but towards these fair New Yorkers he bore

no hostility, and no fewer than three pictures, all by Leech, do justice

to their charm while the legends emphasize the "pretty little

Americanisms" of their speech. It is a welcome change from the

consistent disparagement of their brothers and fathers from Lincoln

downwards. But the great lion of 1864 was Garibaldi, who was given the

freedom of the City of London and greeted everywhere with the enthusiasm

which he deserved. It was this visit that gave rise to one of

Palmerston's characteristic sayings. Someone suggested that they ought

to find Garibaldi an English wife, and someone else observed that he had

already got an Italian one, whereupon Pam cheerfully remarked, "O that

doesn't matter. We'll get Gladstone to explain her away."

[Illustration: ANOTHER PRETTY LITTLE AMERICANISM

ENGLISHMAN (to fair New Yorker): "May I have the pleasure of dancing

with you?"

DARLING: "I guess you may--for I calc'late that if I sit much longer

here, _I shall be taking root!_"]

[Sidenote: _Baker and Stanley_]

Sir Samuel Baker, who returned from his adventurous and fruitful

explorations in Central Africa in October, 1865, with his heroic wife

and companion of his travels, was the hero of that year, and the lion

of the winter of 1873, after his successful but arduous campaign against

the slave-traders of the Equatorial Nile basin. In 1866, after Baker was

knighted, _Punch_ printed a poem of congratulation to the heroic pair,

winding up with the lines:--

Three cheers for the Knight and the Lady so brave,

If Echo's asleep let us lustily wake her;

For none are more worthy of shout and of stave,

Than the Two who ennoble the old name of Baker.

[Illustration: "THIS IS THE NOBLEST ROMAN OF THEM ALL!"]

Stanley, whose historic "Dr. Livingstone, I presume?" when he found the

great missionary-explorer at Ujiji, had been duly chronicled by _Punch_

in July, 1872, found himself famous on his arrival in London later in

the year. He was, however, a somewhat intractable lion, and the

criticisms of the geographical pundits caused him to roar in a rather

formidable fashion. Still he received many gratifying proofs of

recognition for his great services. He was entertained at Dunrobin

Castle by the Duke of Sutherland; his book and lectures brought him in a

handsome sum; and the Queen sent him a gold snuffbox set with

brilliants.

[Sidenote: _The Shah-in-Shah_]

The last of the lions of this period was the Shah. The lion-hunting of

Royalties was always offensive to _Punch_; it is frequently castigated

throughout this period, and here it reached a pitch which moved "the

Democritus of Fleet Street" to explosions of sardonic and mirthless

laughter. There is true satire in the bitter lines headed, "The Shah's

Impressions," in the issue of July 12, 1873:--

Yes! Shah-in-Shah in truth I must be

Or why this fuss of the Feringhee?[15]

Why all these hosts my steps that crowd,

With bows so low and cheers so loud?

If the Inglees Queen, so great among princes

All this respect for me evinces;

If the Tsarevitch, when I appear

Falls flat as the flattest of bitter beer;

If all these Wuzeers[16] and Aghas, and Khans,

For me spend their time and their tomauns[17];

Their parks and their palaces lay at my feet,

Muster for me their army and fleet

And their miles upon miles of merchant ships;

If without their ferashes[18] and their whips,

Manchester gathers and Liverpool runs,

With voices of men and thunder of guns,

To the light of the face of the Shah-in-Shah,

As unto the amber is drawn the straw;

All this is proof in more than words,

I am King of Kings and Lord of Lords!

They told me in leaving Teheran,

Danger of eating dirt I ran,--

That out of the realms of the Shah-in-Shah

I should find rulers called Light and Law.

May the graves of their mothers be defiled

That fain with such bosh had their Shah beguiled!

For the more of these Feringhee Kaffirs[19] I've known,

The whiter to me my face has grown.

I've seen the land calls the Russki lord,

And there the rulers are Stick and Sword;

To the land of the Prusski when I came,

The tongue was changed, but the rule the same:

The stars on the coats may be sown more thick,

But the Prusski's Shah-in-Shah is Stick!

And here in the land of the Inglees

They live and move but the Shah to please.

If my diamonds are as the sun in the skies,

What is the brightness of my eyes?

As in this land there is no sun,

They make a daylight instead of one.

The Queen from her palace for me retires

To Teheran binding it with wires.

Here's Sutherland Beg[20] makes his palace mine,

And all but bids skies for me to shine.

At the Crystal Palace, Effendi Grove

With the rain itself for my pleasure strove,

And out of the water brought the fire

To compass the Shah-in-Shah's desire.

In a wonderful land of wax I've been,

And _houris_ fairer than Heaven I've seen;

To the Inglees Bank a visit I've paid

Where Reuter's gold for me is laid;

And all that have seen me, and all I have seen,

As dust in the path of the Shah hath been,

And instead of eating dirt, I see

But Kaffirs eating dirt to me.

[Footnote 15: Frank, European.]

[Footnote 16: Viziers, Ministers.]

[Footnote 17: Cash.]

[Footnote 18: Menials employed to apply the bastinado.]

[Footnote 19: Infidels, unbelievers.]

[Footnote 20: Chief or Lord.]

We need not be surprised, after reading this scathing poem, to find

that, when the Shah left our shores, _Punch_ had no difficulty in

enduring his bereavement with fortitude. The net result, so far as the

million were concerned, was the addition of "Have you seen the Shah?" to

the catchwords of the hour.

In the eternal competition between London and the provinces,

centralization and local autonomy, it was hardly to be expected that

_Punch_, in his jealousy for London, should adopt a judicial or

impartial attitude. In earlier years he had protested vigorously against

Celtic egotism, when developed at the expense of English sobriety, and

the growth of the movement in favour of the vernacular in Wales and the

spread of Eisteddfods provoked him to contemptuous antagonism. In the

"Essence of Parliament" for May 5, 1862, this hostility is sufficiently

outspoken:--

In the course of the debate on Education, the Honourable Douglas

Pennant, a Conservative, and member for Carnarvonshire, had the

courage to say, that he believed the Welsh language to be the curse

of Wales, being the great obstacle to improvement. Of course it is,

but while a pack of sentimentalists keep up a twitter about it, and

offer prizes for Welsh Odes and such-like Gorilla utterances, how

is the fatal jargon to be exterminated? Here's a health to Edward

the First, though we are sorry to say that historians now

disbelieve that he did spiflicate highborn Hoel, soft Llewellyn,

Modred, who made Plinlimmon shudder with his dissonant ballads, and

the rest of the Welsh Bards--whose only merit was their having

afforded T.G. [Thomas Gray] the subject for an ode that will

outlast Snowdon.

The report of the Eisteddfod, held at Bala in the autumn, given in the

_Oswestry Observer_, serves as the occasion for a truly ferocious attack

on the disloyal "caterwauling" of the Chapel Bards. In particular

_Punch_ is exasperated by the fulminations of the Bard Castell, his

appeal to his countrymen to "conquer or die," and his final challenge to

the English tyrant:--

We scorn your ways, we can despise your terrors,

Then take your chains, pray keep them for your errors.

[Sidenote: _Punch's Pet Aversions_]

For a whole column _Punch_ pours the vials of his abuse on the "humbug"

and "bosh" of "Bardery." Some critics declare that _Punch_ killed the

crinoline, though he himself acknowledged his failure; he was certainly

powerless to check the spread of Eisteddfodau and Pan-Celtitis, and he

undoubtedly overshot the mark by the violence of his diatribes.

Pseudo-intellectualism and preciosity were a safer target, and towards

the end of this period aestheticism in its earlier stages comes in for a

certain amount of satirical notice.

[Illustration: REFINEMENTS OF MODERN SPEECH

FEMALE EXQUISITE: "Quite a nice ball at Mrs. Millefleurs', wasn't it?"

MALE DITTO: "_Very_ quite. Indeed, really _most_ quite!"]

_Punch's_ reference to abusive personalities in the Press were no doubt

justified, though (as we have seen in his comments on the Welsh Bards)

they laid him open to the retort, "physician, heal thyself"; but his

withers were unwrung when he assailed the _Saturday Review_ in 1858 for

its frigid pedantry; or protested against the maudlin, devotional tone

and mock impressiveness of fashionable clergymen; or the vulgar

curiosity of snobs at bathing places. The futilities of garrison town

life and the dangers which young ladies ran of being entrapped by seedy

captains are exposed in the same year, to which also belongs a properly

indignant remonstrance with the Lord Mayor of London for advising a

thief to enlist in the army, a thoroughly characteristic example of the

old middle-class prejudice against soldiers. The humours and trials of

studio life play an increasing part in the pictorial side of _Punch_;

they were derived largely, no doubt, from the experiences of his own

artists, but the multiplication of these references serves to show the

growing social importance of the artist; and the same remark, _mutatis

mutandis_, applies to amateur theatricals. The allusions to club life

are fewer than in earlier years, and are mainly concerned with the

Athenæum. It is amusing to find the ancient legend of the alleged

unsociability of the Athenæum referred to as far back as 1858. The

Almanack for that year contains the following: "Imaginary

Conversation--Anybody speaking to anybody at the Athenæum." As for

Victorian society generally, it would be hard to find a more instructive

sidelight on its usages than that furnished by _Punch's_ protest against

"the Morning Call Nuisance":--

"Sir," said Dr. Johnson (or might have done so if he didn't), "the

man who makes a morning call pays homage to a custom which the

imbecile may bow to, but the sensible contemn." In the presence of

his lady readers _Mr. Punch_ has not the courage to confess that he

applauds the dictum of the doctor. If it were not for the practice

of making morning calls, ladies often would be puzzled to know what

on earth to do; and _Mr. Punch_ would not debar them from what is,

after all, a harmless act of time-slaughter. But he protests with

all his might against the notion which some ladies appear to

entertain, that their husbands should attend them when they pay

these morning visits. It is bad enough for husbands to be dragged

to evening parties, but worse still is their suffering when they

are cruelly compelled to make some morning call.

[Sidenote: "_What is always Going On_"]

Social abuses and grievances and disparities were not so flagrant as

they had been twenty years before; still _Punch_, though no iconoclast,

found plenty of scope for his reforming zeal. Cremation was not

pronounced a legal procedure until 1884, but Shirley Brooks was one of

the original members of the English Cremation Society formed in January,

1874, as a result of Sir Henry Thompson's advocacy of a method which had

been neglected in England since Sir Thomas Browne published his

_Hydriotaphia, or Urn Burial_ in 1658.

In the summer of 1872 _Punch_ printed a list headed, "What is always

going on." It is a reassuring proof of the stability of England that of

the twenty-six entries exactly half, quoted beneath, are as topical

to-day as they were fifty years ago:--

The weather.

The Publicans.

Strikes.

Jobs.

Ireland.

An International Something or Other.

A Big Subscription.

An Inauguration.

A Millenary, Centenary, Anniversary or Jubilee.

A New Daily Paper.

Another English Opera Company.

The High Price of Provisions.

The Albert Memorial.

CLASS DISTINCTIONS

In the report, printed in February, 1865, of an imaginary Meeting for

Promoting the Education of the Rich, addressed by various artisans,

tradesmen, an ex-footman, etc., we read that there was "a unanimous call

for a vote of compliment to _Mr. Punch_ for his indefatigable exertions

to bring all classes into harmony." Self-praise is a dangerous game, and

there were occasions, already noted, on which the verdict of posterity

will not confirm _Punch's_ complacency. Yet we have seen that along with

his increasingly critical attitude towards the working-man he seldom

failed to recognize the need of friendly personal relations between

employers and employed; he regretted the fact that in many industrial

areas the masters lived away from and out of touch with their men. But

the local conditions of the great industries render social cleavage

inevitable to a considerable extent; it is in the domain of unorganized

labour, and in particular that of domestic service, that class

distinctions lend themselves more freely to comment, criticism and

satire. Nowhere else are master or mistress and man or woman brought so

close together; the crowded life of fashionable society was once

described as "friction without intimacy," and the phrase might well be

applied to the relations between servants and their employers.

[Sidenote: _Mistresses and Servants_]

"Domestic Science" was still in its infancy--the name had not yet been

coined--but _Punch_ was deeply interested in the training of girls of

all classes in household duties. Throughout the mid-Victorian period he

is seldom so serious or sympathetic as when the improvement of cookery

is discussed.[21] In earlier years he had been eloquent on the subject

of the underpayment of certain classes of servants. These complaints

practically disappear from 1857 onwards, though he does not fail to

rebuke wealthy mistresses for the scandalously inadequate and insanitary

accommodation which was habitually provided for servants in the

lordliest mansions. Even the most pampered menials had to sleep in

cupboards in the basements or in the attics. But the new note of

independence in woman servants is often dwelt upon, and not always in a

sympathetic spirit, while in 1861 their extravagance, destructiveness

and distaste for needlework form the preface to a noteworthy

pronouncement on "Servant-galism _versus_ Schooling," which comes rather

as a revelation to those who regard the unpopularity of domestic service

as a modern development:--

With an ear to these complaints, and an eye to the instruction of

girls in humble life, not merely in the knowledge of how to read

and write, but in the useful arts of sewing, cookery, and

housekeeping, which are no more learnt by instinct than anatomy or

algebra, geography or Greek, a lady four years since established a

training school at Norwich, where the object was, she tells us:

"To give the opportunity for gaining a good education, with the

addition of plain sewing, mending and cutting out; and also (what

every mother was to understand on putting her girl to school) such

practical acquaintance with cookery and housework, under my

excellent housekeeper, that every girl might know how a house

should be kept, and should acquire habits which would hereafter

make all the difference between a tidy and happy home or the

reverse."

[Illustration: "LIKE HER IMPUDENCE!"

MISSIS AND THE YOUNG LADIES (together): "Goodness gracious, J'mima!

What have you---- _Where's_ your cr'n'lin?" (This word snappishly.)

JEMIMA: "Oh, 'm, please, 'm, which I understood as they was a goin'

out, 'm----"

(Receives warning on the spot.)]

[Illustration: WHAT WILL BECOME OF THE SERVANT GALS?

CHARMING LADY (showing her house to benevolent old gentleman):

"That's where the housemaid sleeps."

BENEVOLENT OLD GENTLEMAN: "Dear me, you don't say so! Isn't it very

damp? I see the water glistening on the walls."

CHARMING LADY: "Oh, it's not too damp for a servant!"]

[Sidenote: _The Ignorant Rich_]

After a trial of four years, the lady is compelled to own her

scheme a failure, solely because she found the girls too proud to

do the housework, and the parents so absurd as to encourage their

refusal. In a letter to the _Norwich Mercury_, she says:

"I was not prepared to find the class of parents I had to do with

would apparently accept the education, but make every excuse to

evade the industrial work, or keep their daughters away when it was

to be done, and threaten to remove them if the household duties

were required of them. In corroboration of this latter fact, I may

observe that twenty-three girls have been taken away from the

school expressly because they would not do the housework. Whether

in the present day girls are allowed to determine for themselves

what they shall or shall not do, or whether their parents are too

proud to recognize such industrial work as a duty belonging to

their children, it is not for me to decide. I can only act on the

result, and close my school. I repeat, I should willingly have

continued the plan, had I not met with discouragement and

opposition from the parents."

[Footnote 21: The year 1859 is regarded by constitutional historians as

a turning-point in our Parliamentary history. _Punch_ mentions, amongst

other things, that it was the year in which "the fashion broke out of

abusing our wives for bad dinners."]

But if the normal relations between mistresses and servants were

becoming steadily worse, _Punch_ was far from acquitting employers. In

October, 1864, the North London Working Classes Industrial Exhibition

was opened--for the most part organized by working-men, though sundry

rich philanthropists, including Miss Burdett-Coutts, had a hand in it.

This prompted _Punch_ to describe an imaginary "Industrial Exhibition of

the Aristocracy," and to describe the fictitious meeting for the

Education of the Rich already referred to. His report is for the most

part burlesque, but _Punch_ puts into the mouths of the speakers a good

deal of shrewd satire at the expense of the folly and ignorance of rich

people. "They were very ignorant, but that was the fault of their

bringing up." The ex-footman, now a small-coal man, thought well of

them, but they had many faults:--

They had no regard for truth, and would order a servant to deny

that they were in the house when they did not wish to see a

visitor. Their indolence was frightful; they would lie in bed until

twelve in the day. (Sensation.) It was true, he assured the

meeting; and a lady at one end of the room would ring a bell and

bring a man up several flights of stairs to fetch her a book that

lay on a table out of her reach. Still, they were very kind when

they knew how to do any kindness, but so few of them took the

trouble to know. As a practical man, he must say that he did not

think that missionaries from their own class would be favourably

received in the houses of the rich. He would mention another thing,

showing the folly of the upper orders. On a freezing night, a

delicate woman would change her warm dress for a very light one,

put on shoes no thicker than ribbons instead of her comfortable

boots, and with nothing on her head, shoulders or arms, would go

out and sit in all the draughts of a playhouse, or stand on the

landing of a staircase, with the wind constantly rushing up from

the street door. What could one do with creatures so hopelessly

plunged in folly? (Sensation.)

Other speakers dwell on the lamentable ignorance of plumbing, mechanics

and anatomy (from the point of view of the butcher). _Punch_ might have

quoted the authentic story of a very clever lady in this period who

imagined that a hydraulic ram was an animal.

Another ground for legitimate complaint on which _Punch_ frequently

insisted was the attempt to introduce dogma into the sphere of domestic

service, as, for example, when a "Christian gentleman" advertised for a

lady housekeeper of "decided piety" to keep his house, without any

salary, in return for a comfortable home. _Punch_ did not believe in

religiosity of this character any more than he could stand the snobbery

which relegated servants to the gallery or the inferior seats in church.

When a Bill was introduced in the summer of 1871 for abolishing the pew

system, he quoted the following speeches from the debate on the second

reading:--

Mr. Beresford Hope told this story:

"He remembered having many years ago to seek a church where his

household could worship. He went to the individual who let the pews

in a chapel of ease near his residence, and he said he wished to

take a pew. The man produced a plan, and he selected the one

nearest the pulpit and the reading-desk. But, unluckily, he dropped

the observation that the pew was for his servants, whereupon the

man said, 'You don't mean that you are taking the pew for your

livery servants.' On his saying, 'Yes, I am,' he received the

reply, 'Then I cannot let it you, for if livery servants were to

come to the pew, all the ladies and gentlemen in the neighbouring

pews would cease to attend.'" (Hear, hear, and laughter.)

Mr. Henley "did not believe that the humbler classes themselves

desired to see the parish churches managed in such a way as to

allow the costermonger a seat beside that of a duchess. It reminded

him of the couplet which says that:

'Something the Devil delights to see

Is the pride that apes humility.'"

[Illustration: WHAT NEXT, INDEED!

GRATEFUL RECIPIENT: "Bless you, my lady! May we meet in Heaven!"

HAUGHTY DONOR: "Good gracious!! Drive on, Jarvis!!!"

(She had evidently read Dr. Johnson, who "didn't want to meet certain

people _anywhere_.")]

[Sidenote: _Religious Snobbery_]

What Punch thought of this fashionable Christianity may be learned from

his truly admirable comments on the protest of a lady's maid in a

provincial paper:--