PART II

THE SOCIAL FABRIC

THE COURT

At the time of Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee in 1897, Caran d'Ache,

the famous French artist--perhaps the greatest genius in his peculiar

_genre_ that our age has produced--published a wonderful design in which

the parallel histories of France and Great Britain, during our Queen's

reign, were summed up at a glance with masterly insight. Great Britain

was represented by one person under two aspects: Queen Victoria as a

girl and as an old woman; France by a long procession of figures: King,

Prince President, Emperor, and the series of Presidents of the Republic.

The stability of England and the fluctuations of France could not have

been pictorially symbolized with greater point. The Victorian age is

rightly named, for Queen Victoria in her virtues, her prejudices and

limitations was, in many ways, its most commanding figure, and the

personal devotion and respect she inspired in men differing so widely in

temperament and outlook as Melbourne and O'Connell, Peel and Russell,

Disraeli, Lord Salisbury and Lord Roberts, to mention no others, counted

for much in securing the country against the violent upheavals from

which our nearest neighbour suffered. Yet, when the wave of sentiment

created by the romantic conditions under which a girl of eighteen was

summoned to wear a crown had died down, the light that beat upon the

throne was far from genial; it was often fierce. The controversy over

the Ladies of the Bedchamber threatened to drag the Crown into the arena

of party politics. The contention of the Tories was, in the main, sound

and constitutional--that these appointments should not be made or

maintained in such a way as to expose the Sovereign to influences

hostile to the Government in power; and the Queen cannot be acquitted of

a certain obstinacy in the assertion of her rights. But the cry that

the Tories were forcing her hand was vigorously taken up, and strange

cross currents of feeling were developed, O'Connell's passionate

outburst of loyalty being the strangest of all. It was one of the

ironies of circumstance that, in the early years of her reign, the

Queen's relations with Whig Ministers--always excepting Lord

Palmerston--were far more cordial than with the Tories. Yet this was no

guarantee for the popularity of the Court, and only those who are

familiar with the history of the time can appreciate how unpopular it

was. The middle-class element were not enamoured of the Whigs, but

whatever they thought of the influence exerted by Lord Melbourne as the

Queen's Mentor, they were not prepared to recognize any improvement

when, on his retirement, the post was informally, but none the less

effectually, filled by a German prince. The Queen's marriage was one of

affection rather than policy, and Prince Albert had many excellent

qualities. He was a highly educated, in some ways even a learned man; he

was industrious, and his private character was without stain. It was not

in human nature to expect that he should entirely efface himself in

affairs of State; but he played the game better than he was given credit

for, and on at least one occasion his intervention was quite contrary to

that ascribed to him. At the same time he was lacking in charm and

geniality; his manner was stiff, his conversation academic and

occasionally _gauche_. His notions of sport were not those of an English

sportsman, and he had a passion for devising new military uniforms. To

put it bluntly, he was a foreigner, and the chief ground of the

unpopularity of the Court was that it gave an unfair preference to

everything foreign--language, art, music, letters--and consistently

declined to encourage native talent. Satiric references to the royal

patronage of foreigners begin in _Punch's_ first volume. "Ride-a-cock

horse" is turned into a florid Italian _cavatina_, and the words

translated into Italian--"Su Gallo-Cavallo a Banburi Croce"--for the

benefit of the nurse of the Princess Royal, Mrs. Ratsey, referred to as

"a lady equally anxious with ourselves to instil into the infant mind an

utter contempt for anything English." This sets the keynote to a series

of complaints which re-echo over many years. For the moment we may turn

to _Punch's_ extraordinarily frank comments, cast in the form of a

burlesque of the ultra-loyal press, on the rapid growth of the royal

nursery, _à propos_ of the birth of the Prince of Wales:--

THE LORD MAYOR AND THE QUEEN

By the Correspondent of the _Observer_

The interesting condition of Her Majesty is a source of the most

agonizing suspense to the Lord Mayors of London and Dublin, who, if

a Prince of Wales is not born before their period of office

expires, will lose the chance of being created baronets.

According to rumour, the baby--we beg pardon, the scion of the

House of Brunswick--was to have been born--we must apologize again,

we should say was to have been added, to the illustrious stock of

the reigning family of Great Britain--some day last month, and of

course the present Lord Mayors had comfortably made up their minds

that they should be entitled to the dignity it is customary to

confer on such occasions as that which the nation now ardently

anticipates. But here we are at the beginning of November, and no

Prince of Wales. We have reason to know that the Lord Mayor of

London has not slept a wink since Saturday, and his lady has not

smiled, according to an authority on which we are accustomed to

rely, since Thursday fortnight. Some say it is done on purpose,

because the present official is a Tory; and others insinuate that

the Prince of Wales is postponed in order that there may be an

opportunity of making Daniel O'Connell a baronet. Others suggest

that there will be twins presented to the nation, one on the night

of November 8, the other on the morning of the 9th, so as to

conciliate both parties; but we are not disposed at present to

pronounce a decided opinion on this part of the question. We know

that politics have been carried most indelicately into the very

heart of the Royal Household.[11] But we hope, for the honour of

all parties, that the confinement of the Queen is not to be made a

matter of political arrangement.

[Sidenote: _Ultra-Loyalty Burlesqued_]

[Footnote 11: The imbroglio of the Ladies of the Bedchamber had been

settled in 1840. But Scribe's _Verre d'Eau_, under the title of _The

Maid of Honour_, with the real incident turned into farce, had been

adapted to the English stage and produced at the Adelphi.]

This is followed up in the next issue by an equally audacious comment

from the same fictitious correspondent:--

THE BIRTH OF THE PRINCE OF WALES

(By the _Observer's_ own Correspondent)

It will be seen that we were not premature in announcing the

probability of the birth of a Prince of Wales; and though it was

impossible that anyone should be able to speak with certainty, our

positive tone upon the occasion serves to show the exclusive nature

of all our intelligence. We are enabled now to state that the

Prince will immediately take, indeed he has already taken, the

title of the _Prince of Wales_, which it is generally understood he

will enjoy--at least if a child so young can be said to enjoy

anything of the kind--until an event shall happen which we hope

will be postponed for a very protracted period. The Prince of

Wales, should he survive his mother, will ascend the throne; but

whether he will be George the Fifth, Albert the First, Henry the

Ninth, Charles the Third, or Anything the Nothingth, depends upon

circumstances we are not at liberty to allude to _at present_, nor

do we think we shall be enabled to do so in a second edition.

Our suggestion last week, that the royal birth should take place on

Lord Mayor's Day, has, we are happy to see, been partially attended

to; but we regret that the whole hog has not been gone, by twins

having been presented to the anxious nation, so that there might

have been a baronetcy each for the outgoing and incoming Lord

Mayors of London and Dublin.

[Illustration: A ROYAL NURSERY RHYME FOR 1860

"There was a Royal Lady who lived in a shoe,

She had so many children she didn't know what to do."]

This vein is further developed in burlesque bulletins of the progress of

the infant Prince. _Punch's_ serious views as to the Prince's future are

to be found in his "Pæan to the Princelet" and its sequel, inspired by

the Royal Christening in February, 1842:--

_PUNCH_ AND THE PRINCELET

* * * * *

The little Prince _must_ love the poor,

And he will heed the cry

Of the pauper mother, when she finds

Her infant's fountains dry.

He'll fill the cruse, and bruise the ear,

To make those founts o'erflow,

For they have vow'd our little Prince

No "vanities" shall know.

And we will rattle our little bell,

And laugh, and dance, and sing as well--

Roo-too-tooit! Shallaballa!

Life to the Prince! Fallallalla!

And death's dark bones will then become

Like iv'ry pure and white!

His blood-dyed robe will moulder off,

And his garments be as light;

For man will slaughter man no more

For wrong begot by wrongs,

For our little Prince will say--"To me

Nor life nor death belongs."

So we will rattle our little bell,

And laugh, and dance, and sing as well--

Roo-too-tooit! Shallaballa!

Life to the Prince! Fallallalla!

But while taking the Prince's future very seriously, _Punch_ could not

emulate those writers in the Press who, with goose-quill in hand, could

not approach the ordinary trials from which even Royal infants are not

exempt, save on their knees:--

It has been announced to the public, through the medium of the

Press, that a most important epoch has arrived in the life of the

Prince of Wales. It is a strange fact, that this "important epoch"

has not been noted in the biography of any previous Prince of

Wales; for we look in vain through the pages of Hume and Smollett,

Rapin, Lingard, Miss Julia Corner, and indeed every other corner

within our reach, without being able to ascertain when Edward the

Black Prince was driven from the breast to the bottle. The Heir

Apparent to the English throne has, we are told, been lately

subjected to this frightful vicissitude; and though his Royal

Highness is said to have borne it tolerably well, it will appear

that while he took to the pap-spoon with princely fortitude, there

was something of the infant perceptible in his mode of first

receiving it.

When another Princess was born in 1843, we read that "there were some

apprehensions that the nasal organ of the Heir Apparent might be

affected by the birth of a younger sister, but we are happy to say that

there are no symptoms of a derangement of the Prince's proboscis at

present," also that Donizetti had been requested to arrange a series of

concertos for the penny trumpet, and had sent to the Prince one on the

noble theme of "This little pig went to market" to the Italian words:--

Questo piccolo porco

E andato al mercato.

Questo piccolo porco

E a casa restato.

Questo piccolo porco

Ha avuto del rosbief per pranza.

Questo piccolo porco

Niente ebbe nel sua stanza.

These familiar jocularities, redeemed by their general good humour from

the charge of disrespect, are harmless compared with the sustained

campaign of ridicule directed against Prince Albert as tailor and

sportsman. German sovereigns and princes have always been great on

uniforms, and Prince Albert undoubtedly suffered severely from this

hereditary failing. A concise biography in the _Almanack_ for 1842

states that he was born on August 26, 1819, and afterwards invented "a

shocking bad hat for the British Infantry, but England refused to put

her Foot in it." From this time onward the attacks are constant and

malicious. The Prince's bell-shaped hat repeatedly figures in cartoons.

He "bresents his gompliments" to Herzog Jenkins (of the _Morning Post_),

for whom he has "gomposed a dugal goronet."

[Sidenote: _Prince Albert as Tailor_]

In the following year there is a cartoon representing the Prince in his

sartorial studio surrounded by designs and models; the following comment

is associated with the cartoon:--

Ever since the accession of Prince Albert to the Royal Husbandship

of these realms, he has devoted the energies of his mind and the

ingenuity of his hands to the manufacture of infantry caps, cavalry

trousers, and regulation sabretaches. One of his first measures was

to transmogrify the pantaloons of the Eleventh Hussars; and as the

regiment alluded to is Prince Albert's Own, His Royal Highness may

do as he likes with his own, and no one could complain of his

bedizening the legs of the unfortunate Eleventh with scarlet cloth

and gold door-leather. When, however, the Prince, throwing the

whole of his energies into a hat, proposed to encase the heads of

the British soldiery in a machine which seemed a decided cross

between a muff, a coal scuttle, and a slop pail, then _Punch_ was

compelled to interfere, for the honour of the English army. The

result has been that the headgear has been summarily withdrawn by

an order from the War Office, and the manufacture of more of the

Albert hat has been absolutely prohibited.

[Illustration: THE TAILOR'S GOOSE--THE TERROR OF THE ARMY]

[Sidenote: _Prince Albert as Sportsman_]

The campaign reached its height in 1845 when _Punch_ was given an

irresistible opportunity on the occasion of the Prince being entertained

by the Merchant Tailors. The Prince, _Punch_ averred, was a born tailor,

the Prince of Tailors, the true British tailor. He sought to make the

British Army invincible by rendering them so comical that, by coming

rapidly on the enemy, they might convulse him with laughter and paralyse

his defence. He had fraternized with the Goose of Great Britain, and

might sit cross-legged in the eyes of posterity. After this outburst of

derision _Punch_ gave the Prince a rest as tailor, but took up the

running--or baiting--with renewed energy against his sportmanship.

_Punch_, it may be noted, was not an unmitigated admirer of field

sports; he denounced otter hunting as cruel, and more than once

protested against officers and others who rode their horses to death for

a wager. It was part of the humanitarianism which impelled him to

support the abolition of capital punishment, though here his argument

was based on the view that death was a release for the murderer, who was

more effectually punished by being kept in life-long penance for his

crime. _Punch_ was never an enemy of fox hunting. Doubtless the

influence of Leech counted for something. But the organized slaughter of

game filled him with disgust, and the exploits of the Prince in the

Highlands in the autumn of 1842 prompted the first of many tirades.

The pheasant battues at Drayton, when the Queen and Prince Albert were

the guests of Sir Robert Peel, are treated in the same spirit, and the

Ballad of Windsor Chase, with its grotesque illustration of fat beagles

and obese hares, the Prince on horseback, and the Queen in her pony

phaeton, carries on the satire in this fashion:--

Six hares alive were taken out

Each in its canvas sack;

And five as dead as mutton, in

The same were carried back.

The battue of hares at Stowe during the Prince's visit to the Duke of

Buckingham in January, 1845, is the subject of another derisive ballad

modelled on _John Gilpin_, and of a cartoon showing the Prince shooting

down the tame quarry point-blank from an easy chair. The grand climax to

this raillery, however, was reached during the Royal visit to Germany in

September, when the stag hunt at Gotha was scarified with pen and

pencil. In two parallel cartoons of "Court Pastimes" are contrasted the

bear-baiting under Elizabeth with the butchery of stags under Victoria;

and the hand of Thackeray is unmistakable in the "Sonnick, sejested by

Prince Halbert gratiously killing the Staggs at Sacks-Cobug-Gothy":--

Some forty Ed of sleak and hantlered dear

In Cobug (where such hanimmles abound)

Were shot, as by the nusepapers I hear,

By Halbert Usband of the British Crownd.

Britannia's Queen let fall the purly tear;

Seeing them butchered in their silvn prisns;

Igspecially, when the keepers, standing round,

Came up and cut their pretty hinnocent whizns.

Suppose, instead of this pore Germing sport,

This Saxn wenison which he shoots and baggs,

Our Prins should take a turn in Capel Court

And make a massyker of English Staggs.[12]

Pore Staggs of Hengland! Were the Untsman at you,

What avoc he _would_ make and what a trimenjus battu!

JEAMS.

[Footnote 12: In reference to the then prevalent mania for railway

speculation.]

[Illustration: ELIZABETH]

[Sidenote: _Stag Slaughter at Gotha_]

[Illustration: VICTORIA]

Even more lacerating is the use made in the same number of the comment

of a loyal eye-witness quoted by the _Standard_:--

TEARS AT GOTHA

The _Standard_ gives the following extract of a letter from Gotha

to a gentleman in London:--

"This (the deer killing) was very shocking. The Queen wept _I saw

large tears in her eyes_: and Her Majesty tells me that she with

difficulty kept the chair during what followed. When the Queen saw

the otter hunt in Scotland, the pity that she _naturally felt_ at

the death of the animal was _counterbalanced by a knowledge of his

propensities_, so that it is almost as meritorious _to destroy an

otter as it is a snake_; but this was a totally different case; nor

is Her Majesty yet recovered. _For the Prince_, the deer were too

numerous, and _must_ be killed. _This_ was the German method; and

no doubt the reigning Duke will distribute them to his people, who

will thank Prince Albert for providing them venison."

[Illustration: THE MOMENTOUS QUESTION

"Tell me, oh tell me, dearest Albert, have _you_ any Railway Shares?"]

This incident marked the high-water level of _Punch's_

anti-Albertianism--at any rate, in the domain of sport; we find an

address of condolence to the Prince on the conclusion of the shooting

season a year and a half later, but, in the main, the criticisms of the

Royal Consort henceforth are founded on other grounds of

dissatisfaction. What infuriated _Punch_ even more than the ineptitudes

of the Court was the fulsome adulation of the _Lickspittle-offs_ of the

Press, who were prepared, not only to defend, but to eulogize them. "The

amount of good that Royalty can effect in this country is astonishing,"

_Punch_ frankly admits, while caustically adding: "only less astonishing

than that which it has yet to do." But between a generous acknowledgment

of what could be done by royal example (as, for instance, its

discouragement of gambling) and the "insanity of loyalty," there was an

immense gulf, and _Punch_ was never weary of gibbeting those writers in

and out of the Press who thought they "could best oppose the questioning

spirit of the time--questioning, as it does, the 'divinity' that hedges

the throne--by adopting the worse than foolish adulation of a bygone

age." Assuredly, the absolute _reductio ad absurdum_ of this

courtiership was reached when the Queen was extolled for behaving as any

reasonable woman would:--

The excessively loyal man has the ugliest manner of paying a

compliment. He evidently takes his king or queen as a carved log

dropped from the skies, or he would not marvel as he does when the

aforesaid image shows any touch of life or human sympathy. If his

idol perform the commonest act of social courtesy, he roars--"what

condescension!" If it display the influence of affections, he

screams--"a miracle!" Her Majesty, on her arrival at Windsor from

Scotland, has her babies immediately brought to her: whereupon,

says _The Atlas_--"The woman and the mother _for a moment_

proclaimed the supremacy of nature over the etiquette of a court,

and the _splendour of a diadem_!"

What very ill-breeding on the part of "nature"--but then, we

presume, she is such a stranger at courts! Was there no Gold Stick

in Waiting to show the baggage to the door?

The same offender is brought to book in the following issue for

deprecating royal excursions by railway:--

_The Atlas_ thus sermonizes upon Royalty "by the rail":--

"We are aware that every precaution is taken by the directors and

managers of the Great Western Railway, when Her Majesty makes use

of a special train, and we are not less acquainted with the courage

and absence of all fear from the mind of the Queen. But a long

regency in this country would be so fearful and tremendous an evil,

that we cannot but desire, in common with many others, that these

royal railway excursions should be, if possible, either wholly

abandoned or only occasionally resorted to."

There is danger by the railway; and therefore, says _The Atlas_,

the Queen should be only "occasionally" exposed to it. Say the

chances against accident are as nineteen to twenty, shall the Queen

"take a chance"? "Yes," says loyalty, "the Queen may _occasionally_

take a chance!"

_Punch_, as the accompanying cartoon shows, refused to take a serious

view of railways where Royalty was concerned, and went to the length of

maliciously insinuating that Prince Albert, wearying of his rose-leaf

fetters, had been indulging in a "flutter" on the Stock Exchange.

[Sidenote: _Syncophancy Rebuked_]

Criticism of the Court on the one hand and obsequious toadyism on the

other were much more pronounced eighty years ago. The later vice is well

rebuked in the fictitious Royal Proclamation issued in connexion with

the Queen's visit to Scotland in the autumn of 1844. It will be noticed

that here, as on so many occasions, _Punch_ adopted the device of

assuming that the exalted personages adulated resented the adulation:--

Her Majesty has just issued a Proclamation, of which _Punch_ has

been favoured with an early copy.

WHEREAS, on each and every of Our Royal Movements, it has been, and

is the custom of sundry weakly-disposed persons known as "our own

correspondents," "our private correspondents," and others, to

write, and cause to be printed, absurd and foolish language,

touching Ourself, Our Royal Consort, and Beloved Babies--it is Our

Will and Pleasure that such foolish practices (tending as they

really do to bring Royalty into contempt) shall be discontinued;

and that from henceforth, all vain, silly, and sycophantic verbiage

shall cease, and good, straightforward, simple English be used in

all descriptions of all progresses made by Ourself, our Royal

Consort, and Our Dearly Beloved Children. And FURTHERMORE, it shall

be permitted to Our Royal Self to wear a white shawl, or a black

shawl, without any idle talk being passed upon the same. AND

FURTHER, Our Beloved Consort shall, whenever it shall so please

him, "change his round hat for a naval cap with a gold band,"

without calling for the special notice of the Newspapers, AND

FURTHER, That Our Beloved Child, the Princess Royal, shall be

permitted to walk "hand in hand" with her Royal Father, without

exciting such marked demonstrations of wonderment at the

familiarity, as have been made known to Me by the public Press.

BE IT KNOWN, That the Queen of England is not the Grand Lama; and

FURTHER BE IT REMEMBERED that Englishmen should not emulate the

vain idolatry of speech familiar in the mouths of Eastern bondmen.

VICTORIA REGINA.

Given at Blair Athol,

September 16, 1844.

In this context should be noted the constant criticisms of the _Court

Circular_--the ironical suggestions that it should be published in

French or Italian,[13] and the castigation, under the heading "Genteel

Christianity," of the announcement of the confirmation of the "juvenile

nobility and gentry" by the Bishop of London in the Chapel Royal, St.

James's.

[Footnote 13: ... "Buckingham Palace, where, it is said, if a person

puts a question in English he is asked in German or French what he

means."]

Five years later we come across a truly delightful suggestion, prompted

by the vacancy in the Laureateship, for the employment of the new

occupant of the post:--

... The chief difficulty we see about the office, is the fact of

there being nothing to do in it. The virtues of our Queen are of

too matter-of-fact a sort, and of too everyday occurrence, to be

the subject of mere holiday odes, or, indeed, of fiction in any

shape. If any duties are to be attached to the Laureateship, we

would propose that they should consist of the task of giving a

poetical turn to that otherwise very dull and uninteresting affair,

the _Court Circular_, which fills the somewhat contemptible duty of

Paul Pry in constant attendance on what ought to be the domestic

privacy of royalty. As an illustration of what we mean, we give the

following specimen:--

This morning at an early hour,

In Osborne's peaceful grounds,

The Queen and Prince--'spite of a shower--

Took their accustomed rounds.

With them, to bear them company,

Prince Leiningen he went,

And with the other royal three,

The Duchess, eke, of Kent.

His Royal Highness Prince of Wales

Went forth to take the air;

The Princess Royal, too, ne'er fails

His exercise to share.

On the young members of the flock

Was tenderest care bestowed,

For two long hours by the clock

They walked--they ran--they rode.

Calmly away the hours wear

In Osborne's tranquil shade,

And to the dinner-party there

Was no addition made.

Judge-Advocate Sir D. Dundas

Having returned to town,

The Royal family circle has

Settled serenely down.

It is not too much to assume that _Punch's_ ridicule assisted in

eliminating some, at least, of these excrescences on the official record

of life at Court.

We may pass over the chaff of Prince Albert as a farmer, and of his

prize pigs and oxen. The bestowal of the D.C.L. degree at Cambridge in

October, 1843, is treated with acidulated satire, and in his imaginary

speech in dog-latin the Prince presents the University with a new

academic cap (_novus pileus academicus_) of his own designing. A month

later the Prince's gratuitous distribution, through the clergy, of

Professor Buckland's pamphlet on the treatment of the potato--on the eve

of the Irish famine--is described as a mockery to hungry people, "but

then Princes are such wags," adds _Punch_. The much-canvassed

appointment of the Prince as Chancellor of Cambridge University in 1847

led to sardonic comment:--

Nothing in England has been thought too good for the members of

this happy family; but really it is rather too humiliating when we

begin to express our doubts whether we can find anything, among the

most venerable of our institutions, good enough to place at the

feet of a Prince of Saxe-Gotha.

[Sidenote: The Prince of Bricklayers]

But though the compliment is left-handed, there are symptoms of a

friendlier tone in the parallel between Prince Hal (Henry V) and Prince

"Al." _Punch_, furthermore, congratulates the Prince on giving up the

hat-business, interesting himself in the welfare of the working classes,

and contributing by his speeches and subscriptions to the advancement of

social reform. A year later he is saluted as the Prince of

Bricklayers:--

His Royal Highness is now always laying the foundation stone of

some charitable institution or other.... The services of Her

Majesty's Consort ought to be duly requited, and _Punch_, in order

to reward him in kind, hereby spreads the mortar of approbation

with the trowel of sincerity, upon a Prince who really appears to

be coming out like a regular brick.

But, as we have noted elsewhere, it was the Exhibition of 1851 which,

more than anything else, tended to enhance the Prince's repute and

popularity. It was a great and fruitful idea--and the Prince was its

only begetter. The speech of the Prince Consort in explaining the

significance of the Exhibition as the realizing of the solidarity of the

world, Thackeray's May Day Ode, which appeared in _The Times_, and other

utterances in the Press show, as Professor Bury points out in _The Idea

of Progress_, that "the Exhibition was, at the time, optimistically

regarded not merely as a record of material achievement and technical

progress, but as a demonstration that humanity was at last on its way to

a better and happier state.... A vista was suggested, at the end of

which far-sighted people might think they discerned Tennyson's

'Federation of the World.'" _Punch_ never failed to give the Prince the

credit of initiating the scheme, and, after a little wavering, gave it

his enthusiastic support. The change in public opinion towards the

Prince is well reflected in the frank but friendly palinode which

appeared in the issue of November 26, 1853, as a result of the

suggestion made by City magnates to erect a statue to the Prince in Hyde

Park:--

PRINCE _PUNCH_ TO PRINCE ALBERT

Illustrious and excellent brother,

Don't consider me rude or unkind,

If, as from one Prince to another,

I give you a bit of my mind--

And I do so with all the more roundness,

As your conduct amongst us has shown

A propriety, judgment and soundness

Of taste, not surpassed by my own.

You've respected John Bull's little oddities,

Never trod on the old fellow's corns;

Chose his pictures and statues--commodities

Wherein his own blunders he mourns.

And if you're a leetle more German

In these than I'd have you--what is't

Beyond what a critic may term an

Educational bias or twist?

* * * * *

You have never pressed forward unbidden;

When called on you've never shown shame,

Not paraded, nor prudishly hidden

Your person, your purse, or your name;

You've lent no man occasion to call you

Intruder, intriguer, or fool;

Even I've not had often to haul you

O'er the coals, or to take you to school.

All this, my dear Prince, gives me boldness--

Which, _au reste_, our positions allow--

For a hint (which you'll not charge to coldness,

After all I have written just now):

Which is to put down certain flunkies,

Who by flatt'ry your favour would earn,

Pelting praise at your head, as at monkeys

Tars throw stones--to get nuts in return.

* * * * *

Then silence your civic applauders,

Lest better men cease from applause.

He who tribute accepts of marauders,

Is held to be pledged to their cause.

Let no Corporate magnates of London

An honour presume to award:

Their own needs, till ill-doings be undone,

Little honour to spare can afford!

[Sidenote: Prince Punch to Prince Albert]

A little later on, on the eve of the Crimean War, _Punch_ was evidently

impressed by the alleged interference of the Prince in high affairs of

State. The cartoon of January 7, 1854, represents the Prince skating on

thin ice marked "Foreign Affairs--Very Dangerous," and _Mr. Punch_

shouting to him; and in the same issue the lines "Hint and Hypothesis"

warn the Prince against shifting his tactics and adopting the _rôle_ of

an intriguer. These rumours were so persistent that Lord Aberdeen felt

it necessary to allude to them in the House of Lords at the opening of

the Session, declaring that not only was there no foundation for the

charge that the Prince had interfered with the Army or the Horse Guards,

but that he had declined the suggestion of the Duke of Wellington that

he should succeed him as Commander-in-Chief. His interest in the Army

was naturally keen, but it was general. That he was the adviser of the

Queen, in his capacity of husband and most intimate companion was beyond

all doubt, but Lord Aberdeen vigorously maintained that he had never

uttered a single Syllable in the Council which had not tended to the

honour, the interest, and the welfare of the country. Still suspicion

was not wholly appeased, and _Punch's_ references to the Prince during

the Crimean War were none too friendly. In 1855 he is credited with the

intention of heroically resigning his Field Marshal's bâton and pay, as

a "noble beginning of Military Reform," in response to the public cry

for the dismissal of "incompetent nobility." And at the end of the year

his desire to go to the Crimea is made the subject of ironic

remonstrance. As a matter of fact, the reader of to-day must be told,

the intention and the desire were both inventions of _Punch_, who was

playing his favourite game of attributing to exalted personages resolves

and actions which they never contemplated, but which he wanted them to

make or take, and which if they had taken, he would probably have

criticized as unnecessary and injudicious. Even more malicious was the

picture of _Punch_ regarding a portrait of the Prince, exhibited in the

Academy of 1857, in Field Marshal's uniform, and saying to himself,

"What sanguinary engagement can it be?" _Punch_ cannot be acquitted of

treating the Prince Consort--as he only now began to be generally

called--with less than justice in view of the difficult and delicate

position he occupied. The impression was given that the Prince wanted to

meddle in the conduct of the War, and that it was necessary to prevent

him from making himself a nuisance by going to the front. And mixed with

this was the impression, which these cartoons and comments prompted,

that the Prince was making a request which he knew would be refused;

that, in short, he was at once vain-glorious, insincere, and

self-protective. It was not the first time _Punch_ had been unjust to

the Prince: he had failed to recognize him as a powerful ally in the

campaign against duelling in 1843. In the main, however, it may be urged

that ridicule gave place to criticism in the latter years of the

Prince's life; but the revulsion of feeling in _Punch_--and the

public--did not set in until after his death. Like Peel, the Prince

Consort had to die before his services to the country were recognized.

[Illustration: THE GRASSHOPPERS' FEAST: A PROPHETIC VISION.

Queen Butterfly received by Lord Grasshopper--Monday, October 28, 1844.]

As the Prince Consort was, often without just grounds, the chief cause

of the unpopularity of the Court and the favourite target of satire, we

have given him priority in this survey. But, quite apart from the

influence which he exerted, or was supposed to exert, upon her, the

Queen was by no means exempt from direct censure, remonstrance, and

exceedingly frank criticism. In one respect, however, the Queen was

treated with invariable consideration. Even in his most democratic days

_Punch_ never caricatured the Sovereign. The portraits of the Queen are

always pleasant, even flattering. Witness the delightful picture of her

visit to the City in 1844. Though _Punch's_ pen was sharp his pencil was

kind, though at times extremely familiar, as in the prophetic cartoon

published under the heading, "A Royal Nursery Rhyme for 1860[14]":--

There was a Royal Lady who lived in a shoe,

She had so many children she didn't know what to do.

[Footnote 14: See Illustration.]

As early as the Christmas number of 1842 _Punch_ had given "the

arrangements for the next ten years of the Royal family," with the names

and titles of eleven princes and princesses! In the spring of 1843 he

comments, with mock sympathy, on the Queen's liability to income tax.

More serious is the charge, brought in his favourite oblique fashion,

against the Queen for the neglect of her duties.--

TREASONOUS ATTACK ON HER MAJESTY

_Punch_ has been greatly shocked by a very treasonable letter in

the columns of _The Times_. Whether _Punch's_ friend, the Attorney

General, has had the epistle handed over to him, and contemplates

immediate proceedings against "C. H.," the traitorous writer,

_Punch_ knows not; but after this information, the distinguished

law-officer cannot plead ignorance of the evil, as an apology for

future supineness. The letter purports to be a remonstrance to our

sovereign lady, the Queen; in a measure, accusing Her Gracious

Majesty of a certain degree of indifference towards the interests

of London trade, of literature, the arts and sciences. The rebel

writes as follows:--

"Buckingham Palace is neither so agreeable nor salubrious a

residence as Windsor, but neither is the crown so pleasant to wear

as a bonnet. I trust it is not necessary to remind Queen Victoria

that royalty, like property, has its _duties_ as well as its

_rights_. One of these duties is to reside in the metropolis of the

kingdom, the presence of the sovereign in the capital being

essential on many occasions. I could enumerate other duties of the

sovereign, such, for instance, as conferring fashion on public

entertainments that deserve to be encouraged by attending such

places of amusement, and countenancing science, literature and the

arts, by honouring distinguished professors with marks of

approbation; in which respect it is much to be regretted there is

too much room for those remarks on the remissness of Her Majesty in

these respects that are so frequently made in society. When we know

how much discontent, engendered by widely spread and deeply-felt

distress is expressed by persons not to be numbered among 'the

lower classes,' it is not without alarm that the influence of these

acts of omission on the part of Queen Victoria can be regarded; and

it becomes the duty of every friend of the monarchy and the

constitution to warn the Sovereign of the danger, not merely to her

personal popularity, but to the feeling of loyalty to the throne,

that is likely to accrue from such neglect."

In these years, and for a good many years to come, _Punch_ hunted in

couples with _The Times_.

[Sidenote: _Neglect of Native Talent_]

The neglect of native talent and the encouragement of foreign artists,

musicians, men of letters, is harped upon in number after number for

year after year. Here again the method is sometimes direct, sometimes

oblique, as in the fictitious list of people invited to the Court:

Dickens, Hood, Mrs. Somerville, and Maria Edgeworth. Another opportunity

was when it was announced that the Danish Royal family had attended the

funeral of Thorwaldsen in deep mourning, _Punch_ exclaims, "imagine for

a moment English Royalty in deep mourning for departed genius!" The

often-repeated visits of "General Tom Thumb" to Court in 1844 made him

very angry. At the second "command" performance the General "personated

Napoleon amid great mirth, and this was followed by a representation of

Grecian statues, after which he danced a nautical hornpipe, and sang

several of his favourite songs" in the presence, as _Punch_ notes, of

the Queen of the Belgians, daughter of Louis Philippe. But _Punch_ had

his revenge on this curious and deep-rooted interest of Royalty in

dwarfs--Queen Isabella of Spain had one permanently attached to her

staff--by indulging in a delightful speculation on the happy results

that would have ensued if George IV, like General Tom Thumb, had stopped

growing at the age of five months:--

How much we should have been spared had George IV only weighed 15

lbs. and stopped at 25 inches! How much would have been saved

merely in tailors' bills, and how many pavilions for his dwarf

majesty might have been built at a hundredth part of the cost that

was swallowed by the royal folly at Brighton!

The Georges, it may be remarked, were no favourites of _Punch_, nor was

this to be wondered at when one recalls their treatment at the hands of

Thackeray, the least democratic member of the staff. _Punch_ considered

that Brummell was a better man than his "fat friend," and consigned the

latter to infamy in the following caustic epitaph, one of a series on

the Four Georges:--

GEORGIUS ULTIMUS

He left an example for age and for youth

To avoid.

He never acted well by Man or Woman,

And was as false to his Mistress as to his Wife.

He deserted his Friends and his Principles.

He was so ignorant that he could scarcely spell;

But he had some skill in cutting out Coats,

And an undeniable Taste for Cookery.

He built the Palaces of Brighton and of Buckingham,

And for these Qualities and Proofs of Genius,

An admiring Aristocracy

Christened him the "First Gentleman in Europe."

Friends, respect the KING whose Statue is here,

And the generous Aristocracy who admired him.

In the same year _Punch_, with malicious inventiveness, represented

Queen Victoria in the act of unveiling a great statue to Shakespeare on

Shakespeare Cliff, adding as her epitaph: "She rarely went to the

Italian Opera and she raised a statue to Shakespeare." In these

agilities _The Times_ again proved a useful ally, for in the same number

we find the following:--

HIGH TREASON

A traitor, who signs himself "Alpha," and writes in _The Times_, writes

thus:--

"It is no use to conceal the fact--British high art _is hated at

Court, and dreaded by the aristocracy_. They don't want it; they

can't afford it; they think any art, which does not cultivate their

vanity or domestic affections, can have no earthly use!"

We trust that the writer of the above will be immediately committed

to the Tower, there, in due season, to be brought to the block.

[Illustration: TRAINING SCHOOL FOR LADIES ABOUT TO APPEAR AT COURT]

It was a letter in _The Times_ that again prompted _Punch's_

remonstrance, in July, 1845, against the Queen's preference for French

milliners, and an historical contrast is rubbed in by the article on the

imaginary "Royal Poetry Books," or didactic poems, for the benefit of

the Royal infants, of which two specimens may be quoted:--

THE NEW SINGER OF ITALY

There was a new Singer of Italy

Who went through his part very prettily;

"Mamma tinks him so fine,

We must have him to dine!"

Papa remarked slily and wittily.

THE OLD SINGER OF AVON

There was an old Singer of Avon,

Who, Aunty Bess thought, was a brave one;

But Mamma doesn't care

For this stupid swan's air,

Any more than the croak of a raven.

[Sidenote: _Royal Visits and Visitors_]

[Illustration: CALYPSO MOURNING THE DEPARTURE OF ULYSSES

Calypso, Q----n V----a; Ulysses, K--g of the F----h.]

The Court was certainly not addicted to extravagance, but the Queen's

"bal poudré" in June is heavily ridiculed, largely, no doubt, because of

_Punch's_ frequently expressed conviction that the British never shone

as masqueraders. Cobden's speech in 1848, attacking highly-paid

sinecures in the Royal Household, is approved, but _Punch_ was no

advocate of parsimony. The new front of Buckingham Palace is severely

criticized in March, 1849: its only beauty is that of hiding the

remainder of the building like "a clean front put on to make the best of

an indifferent shirt." The "mountainous flunkeydom" at Royal levées is

a frequent incentive to ridicule with pen and pencil; _Punch_ is happy

in pillorying the _Morning Post_ for the use of the phrase, "the dense

mass of the nobility and gentry" at one of Lady Derby's receptions;

while he applauds the Queen for setting a good example by giving early

juvenile parties in the season of 1850. Her visits and visitors were

carefully scrutinized and freely criticized, beginning with the Royal

tour in Belgium and France in the autumn of 1843, when Queen Victoria is

represented as mesmerizing Louis Philippe with a Commercial Treaty.

_Punch_ was in frequent hot water with Louis Philippe--whom, by the way,

he once represented as Fagin--and the impending visit of the French

Sovereign, at the close of 1844, led to some plain talk on his folly in

proscribing and impounding _Punch_, followed up by a burlesque account

of his arrival at Portsmouth, with an ironical reference to the omission

of all literary men, painters, musicians, sculptors, etc., from the

invitations to meet him at Court. When the French King left, _Punch_

burlesqued the situation by representing the Queen as Calypso. _Punch_,

like the _Skibbereen Eagle_, always kept his eye on the Tsar of

Russia--and, indeed, upon all foreign potentates. The Tsar Nicholas

stood, to him, for all that was evil in "the King business." His attacks

began in 1842 and never ceased in the Tsar's lifetime. The visit to

England in the summer of 1844 was the signal for an explosion of bitter

hostility. Readers of _Punch_ are advised to carry every penny of the

largess he drops to the Polish Fund. They should be polite, but avoid

any approval of his looks or manners. The Tsar's misdeeds and acts of

harshness to Poles and Jews are minutely recalled. Queen Victoria is

shown in a cartoon offering Poland as a bun to Nicholas the Bear at the

Zoo. The Tsar's lavish presents are flouted and condemned. A design for

the 500-guinea cup he offered for Ascot is made a hideous memento of

savage repression. His subscription to the Polish Ball is compared to

the action of Claude Duval fiddling to his victims. The Tsar, in short,

was "good for Knout"; and John Bull was being led by the nose with a

diamond ring in it. Nor has _Punch_ a single good word to say for the

King of Prussia right from 1842 to 1857. His visit in the former year,

"to strengthen the cast of the Prince of Wales's christening," met with

anything but a friendly welcome. When he returned in the year 1844,

_Punch_ profoundly distrusted the King's humility when he visited

Newgate with Mrs. Fry and knelt and prayed in the female prisoners'

ward; and his suspicions were confirmed by his treatment of the refugee

Poles, who were handed back to the mercies of Tsar Nicholas. Throughout

the entire period the King of Prussia figures as "King Clicquot," from

his alleged fondness for the bottle. The King of Hanover comes off even

worse. Witness the truly amazing frankness of the comments on his visit

in June, 1843:--

TRIUMPHAL RETURN OF THE KING OF HANOVER

The King of Hanover is once more among us. After a painful absence

of six years--intensely painful to all parties--the monarch returns

to the country of his birth, a country to which he will leave his

name, as Wordsworth says of Wallace, "as a flower," odorous and

perennial. He arrives here, it is said, to be present at the

marriage of his niece, the Princess Augusta, with a German Prince,

who is not only to take an English wife, but with her three

thousand pounds per annum of English money; of money coined from

the sweat of starving thousands; money to gild the shabby Court of

Mecklenburg with new splendour. Sir Robert Peel has been, it is

said, under a course of steel draughts, and other invigorating

medicine, the better to fortify himself in his address to the

Commons for the cash. Sir Robert, however, acutely alive to our

fallen revenue, is still very nervous. It is reported that, on the

evening when the demand upon the patience and the rags of John Bull

was made, the Prime Minister blushed "for that night only."

* * * * *

Herein is the extreme value of the numberless scions of Royalty

with which England is over-blessed. The Duke of Cumberland (we mean

the King of Hanover) has £23,000 a year from the sweat of

Englishmen. And does not his Highness, or his Kingship, whilst

taking a salary, exercise a most salutary effect upon Britons? Does

he not practically teach them the beauty of humility--of long

suffering--of self-denying charity and benevolence? Why, he is a

continual record of the liberality and magnanimity of Englishmen,

who, if ever they fall into an excess of admiration for royalty,

will owe the enthusiasm to such bright examples as the monarch of

Hanover. In the East there are benevolent votaries who build

expensive fabrics for the entertainment of the most noisome

creatures. Englishmen are above such superstition; and in the very

pride and height of their intelligence, allow £23,000 to the King

of Hanover.

[Sidenote: Royal Parasites]

The wedding of the Princess Augusta, daughter of the Duke of Cambridge,

to the Prince of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, was the occasion of a wonderful

explosion in the _Morning Post_:--

Jenkins was present at the ceremony. He was somehow smuggled into

the Royal Chapel, and stood hidden in a corner, hidden by a huge

_bouquet_, quite another Cupid among the roses. Let us, however,

proceed to give the "feelings" of Jenkins, merely premising that

we should very much like to see Jenkins, when he feels "proud,

elated and deeply moved." He says:

"We felt alternately proud, elated, and deeply moved during the

ceremony as _in turn_ we cast a glance at the illustrious witnesses

to the solemnity. There was our gracious Queen, beaming with youth

and beauty, _through which is ever discernible the eagle glance_

and the imposing air of command so well suited to her high station.

Next to the Queen, the Royal Consort, _one of the handsomest

Princes of the age_, in whom the spirit of youth is so remarkably

tempered by the _judgment and wisdom of age_. The Queen Adelaide,

living model of every Virtue which can adorn a Woman either in

private life or on a throne."

So far the _Morning Post_. What says (perhaps?) an equal authority,

_The Times_?

"The Queen Dowager was prevented from being present at the Ceremony

in consequence of indisposition."

The old Duke Adolphus Frederick of Cambridge was another target of

never-ending ridicule. He was a great diner-out, and his fatuous

after-dinner speeches are cruelly parodied. He was also "the Duke who

thinks aloud," whether at the play or at the Chapel Royal:--

A few Sundays ago, the Minister and the Duke proceeded as follows:

_Minister._ From all evil and mischief; from sin, from the crafts

of the devil----

(_Duke._ To be sure; very proper--very proper.)

_Minister._ From all sedition, conspiracy, and rebellion----

(_Duke._ Certainly; very right--very right.)

And thus Parson and Duke proceeded together almost to the end.

However, the worthy clergyman had to offer a prayer for the sick.

Proceeding in this pious task, he thus commenced:

_Minister._ The prayers of this congregation are earnestly desired

for----

(_Duke._ No objection--no objection!)

[Sidenote: _A Royal Duke's Household_]

One certainly does not gather from _Punch's_ pages what was none the

less a fact, that the Duke was extremely popular, that he was charitable

and benevolent, and an enlightened patron of science and art, or that he

was emphatically recognized as "a connecting link between the throne and

the people."

On the Duke's death in 1850, _Punch_, with his usual vigour, attacked

the grant of £12,000 a year to his son, the late and last Duke of

Cambridge, at a time when the claims of Horatia (Nelson's daughter) and

Mrs. Waghorn, widow of the pioneer of the Overland Route, were

neglected. The immediate sequel led to further caustic remarks:--

FOUR EQUERRIES AND THREE CHAPLAINS

What can a quiet, kind, manly, and simple gentleman, Prince though

he be of the British Blood Royal, want at this present period of

time with four Equerries and three parsons in the Gazette? Are

these ceremonies nowadays useful and decorous, or absurd and

pitiable; and likely to cause the scorn and laughter of men of

sense? When the greatest and wisest Statesman in England [Sir

Robert Peel] dying declares he will have no title for his sons,

and, as it were, repudiates the Peerage as a part of the Protective

system which must fall one day, as other Protective institutions

have fallen--can't sensible people read the signs of the times and

be quiet? When Lord John comes down to the House (with that pluck

which his Lordship always shows when he has to meet an unpopular

measure) and asks for an allowance, which the nation grudgingly

grants to its pensioners--when the allowance is flung at his Royal

Highness with a grumble, is it wise to come out the next day with a

tail of four Equerries and three clergymen?

[Illustration: THE MODERN DAMOCLES]

Louis Napoleon stands apart from the other European sovereigns of the

mid-nineteenth century in virtue of his origin and his career. But he

ran the Tsar Nicholas close, if he did not equal him, as _Punch's_ pet

aversion. As early as 1849 his imperialistic ambitions led to the

hostile comment that "empire" meant _empirer_. The _Coup d'État_ was the

signal for the fiercest attacks on his policy of "homicide." His

matrimonial ventures prompted the ribald suggestion that the Emperor

Louis should marry Lola Montez! His persistent gagging of the Press in

France, and his attempts to subsidize or manipulate that in England, are

vehemently denounced. _Punch's_ attacks ceased during the Crimean War,

but it was a reluctant truce, and they broke out again after the Peace

was signed. Douglas Jerrold cordially detested the Emperor, and was

responsible for the hardest of the many hard things said against him in

_Punch_.

By a strange irony of fate it was Douglas Jerrold's own son, William

Blanchard Jerrold, who, working upon materials supplied him by the

Empress Eugénie, produced in the four volumes of his _Life of Napoleon

III_ the chief _apologia_ in English of the Second Empire.

But to return to the Queen and the English Royal Family. Amongst

_Punch's_ unconscious prophecies room must certainly be found for his

reference, in a satire of the Queen's speech when Peel was Premier, to

Her Majesty as "Victoria Windsor" nearly seventy-five years before the

surname was formally adopted by her grandson. The suggested statue to

Cromwell at the new Houses of Parliament gave rise to a long and heated

controversy in 1845 in which _Punch_ ranged himself militantly among the

partisans of the Protector. He published mock protests from various

sovereigns; he considered Cromwell's claim side by side with those of

the "Sexigamist" murderer Henry VIII and other kings, and printed a

burlesque design of his own, with a sneer at Pugin for his "determined

zeal in keeping up the bad drawing of the Middle Ages."

[Illustration: SHOULD CROMWELL HAVE A STATUE?]

The Queen's visit to Ireland in 1849 is treated in considerable detail,

and in an optimistic vein. _Punch_ never believed in the Repeal

Agitation or in Daniel O'Connell, whom he regarded as a trading patriot

and a self-seeking demagogue, contrasting him unfavourably with Father

Mathew. Nor had he any sympathy with "Young Ireland," or Thomas Davis,

or the romantic leaders of the movement of 1848; as for Smith O'Brien,

an immortality of ridicule was conferred on him in Thackeray's famous

ballad on "The Battle of Limerick." The terrible ravages of the potato

famine had evoked _Punch's_ sympathy; but his hopes of an enduring

reconciliation were small, and he quotes the tremendous saying of

Giraldus Cambrensis that Ireland would be pacified _vix paulò ante Diem

Judicii_--or only just before the Day of Judgment. Still, the Queen's

visit was hailed as of good omen, though _Punch_ reminds her that she

had only seen the bright side of the dark Rosaleen--palaces and not

cabins. "Let Erin _forget_ the days of old" is the burden of his song;

at least he refrained from quoting--if he ever knew of it--that other

terrible saying that "Ireland never forgets anything except the benefits

that she has received." The Queen's magnanimity and clemency to her

traducer Jasper Judge in the same year called forth a warm eulogium.

Judge was a thief and a spy, yet the Queen, on the petition of his wife,

paid the costs of her vilifier.

In 1849, also, _Punch_, evidently still in mellower mood, published an

enthusiastic tribute to the memory of the Dowager Queen Adelaide, who

died on December 2. _Punch_ specially refers to her generosity to Mrs.

Jordan, the mistress of William IV, when he was Duke of Clarence, and

the mother of ten of his children. "Let those who withhold their aid

from the daughter of Nelson, because the daughter of Lady Hamilton,

consider this and know that the best chastity is adorned by the largest

charity." Queen Adelaide had long outlived the unpopularity caused by

her supposed interference in politics at the time of the Reform

Agitation, and _Punch's_ homage was well deserved. It is a sign of the

times that _Punch_ begins to allude to the Queen as "our good Queen," or

more affectionately as "our little Queen," and this growth of her

popularity continues (with occasional setbacks) throughout the 'fifties.

At the close of 1852 _Punch_ ridicules as absurd the rumour of the

betrothal of the Princess Royal to Prince Frederick William of Prussia,

the Princess being only twelve years old. The report appeared in a

German paper, and proved true. _Punch's_ chief objection was

sentimental: "The age is past when Royalty respected its family at the

rate of live stock," and he could not believe that such a principle

would govern the Court, seeing that it was "adorned now at last with the

domestic graces." Besides, _Punch_ in the summer of 1844 had published

his own New Royal Marriage Act (suggested by _The Times's_ comment on

the late Duke of Sussex's love letters), which winds up: "Be it

therefore enacted that a member of the Royal Family shall be at liberty

to marry whom or how or when, where or anywhere, he or she likes or

pleases."

[Sidenote: _The Princess Royal's Betrothal_]

Scepticism of the report animates the set of verses published three

years later:--

ABSURD RUMOUR OF AN APPROACHING MARRIAGE IN THE HIGHEST LIFE

They say that young Prussia our Princess will wed,

Which shows that we can't believe half that is said.

What? she marry the nephew of Clicquot the mean!

The friend and ally of the foe of the Queen?

Why, nothing keeps Clicquot from standing array'd

Against her in arms, but his being afraid.

His near kinsman the spouse of Her Majesty's child!

Pooh!--the notion is monstrous, preposterous, wild.

The Princess is--bless her!--scarce fifteen years old;

One summer more even o'er _Dinah_ had roll'd.

To marry so early she can't be inclined;

A suitable _Villikins_ some day she'll find.

Moreover, in her case, we know very well,

There exist no "stern parients" her hand to compel,

Affording the Laureate a theme for a lay,

With a burden of "Teural lal leural li day."

Whether the German newspaper had been merely exercising "intelligent

anticipation" or not, the projected alliance was confirmed in 1856.

_Punch's_ comment on the Princess's dowry was unsympathetic, but the

betrothal was celebrated in verse at once ceremonial and friendly.

References to the Queen during the Crimean War are noticed elsewhere; we

may note, however, that when one "Raphael" published a Prophetic

Almanack in which he took liberties with the Queen's name, _Punch_

administered a severe castigation to the offender. _Punch_ did not like

his monopoly to be infringed.

THE OLD NOBILITY

Between the aristocracy as depicted in the pages of _Punch_ and in those

of the _Morning Post_ in the 'forties and 'fifties there is a wide gulf.

As we have seen, _Punch's_ admiration of the Duke of Wellington stopped

a long way this side of idolatry. Yet even when the Duke was criticized

most severely as a politician, the recognition of his greatness was not

denied. A good example is to be found in the cartoon of the "Giant and

the Dwarf," which was inspired by Napoleon's legacy to the subaltern

Cantillon, who was charged with an attempt to murder Wellington.

Wellington himself had been approached with a view to similar action

against Napoleon, and here was his reply:--

"---- wishes to kill him; but I have told him that I shall

remonstrate; I have likewise said that, as a private friend, I

advised him to have nothing to do with so foul a transaction; and

that he and I had acted too distinguished parts in these

transactions to become executioners; and that I was determined

that, if the sovereigns wished to put him to death, they should

appoint an executioner, which would not be me."[15]

The cartoon is accompanied by this comment:--

The Duke has made his political blunders and in his time talked

political nonsense as well as his inferiors. Moreover he exhibits a

defective sympathy with the people.... Nevertheless, contrasting

Wellington's answer to the proposed death of the ex-Emperor with

Napoleon's reward of the would-be assassin of the General (i.e.

Wellington himself), need we ask which is the Giant and which is

the Dwarf?

Other dukes cut a less dignified figure in the lean years which preceded

the repeal of the Corn Laws--whether as coal-owners, Protectionists, or

strict enforcers of the Game-Laws.

[Footnote 15: Colonel Garwood's selections from the Duke of Wellington's

Dispatches.]

[Illustration: HENRY MARQUESS OF WATERFORD: A NEW STATUE OF ACHILLES

Cast from Knockers taken in the vicinities of Sackville Street, Vigo

Lane, and Waterloo Place.]

The first hint of the long campaign against the Dukes of Bedford in

connexion with "Mud Salad Market" occurs in February, 1844. The Dukes of

Sutherland, Atholl, Norfolk and Buckingham all came under the lash. When

Lord William Lennox's plagiarisms from Hood and Scott in his novel _The

Tuft-hunter_ were exposed, _Punch_ printed this jingling epigram:--

A Duke once declared--and most solemnly too--

That whatever he liked with his own he would do;

But the son of a Duke has gone farther, and shown

He will do what he likes with what isn't his own!

[Sidenote: _Marquesses under the Microscope_]

And the marquesses came off even worse. The eccentric Marquess of

Waterford is celebrated for his knocker-hunting exploits in the very

first number. The Marquess of Hertford--the original of Thackeray's

Marquess of Steyne in _Vanity Fair_--is subjected to posthumous obloquy,

_à propos_ of the claim of his valet on his executors, who "were

compelled to bring the dead Marquess into Court, that the loathsome dead

may declare the greater loathsomeness of the living." The Marquess of

Londonderry came under the lash not merely as a rapacious coal-owner,

but as a bad writer: "the most noble but not the most grammatical

Marquess." So again we are informed respecting the Marquess of

Normanby's novels that "they have just declared a dividend of 2½d. in

the pound, which is being paid at all the butter shops." One has to wait

for nearly ten years for acknowledgment of virtue in the marquisate, but

then it is certainly handsome. The occasion was the entrance into power

of the Derby-Disraeli (or "Dilly-Dizzy") Cabinet:--

THE MARQUIS OF LANSDOWNE AND THE NEW MINISTRY

The first act of the Ministry in the House of Lords was done with

the worst of grace. The Marquis of Lansdowne took farewell of

office and of official life. And who was there, among the new men,

to do reverence to the unstudied yet touching ceremony? Nobody,

save the Earl of Malmesbury. _The Times_ says, and most truly:

"A public life, which has literally embraced the first half of this

century, and which last night was most gracefully concluded,

deserved an ampler and richer tribute than our new Foreign

Secretary seemed able to bestow."

Nothing could be colder, meaner, and certainly more foreign to the

heartiness of English generosity than the chip-chip phrases of Lord

Malmesbury. It is such men as the Marquis of Lansdowne who are the true

strength of the House of Lords. He is a true Englishman. In fifty years

of political life his name has never been mixed with aught mean or

jobbing. In the most tempestuous times, his voice has been heard amongst

the loudest for right. In days when to be a reformer was to take rank a

little above a fanatic and a public despoiler, the Marquis of Lansdowne

struck at rotten boroughs. He has ever been a patriot in the noblest

sense. And there was nobody but cold-mouthed Malmesbury to touch upon

his doings? So it is!

Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back

Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,

A great-sized monster of ingratitudes:

Those scraps are good deeds past.

But the political deeds of the Marquis of Lansdowne are written in the

history of his country. After the wear of fifty years, not one spot

rests upon his robes. His coronet borrows worth and lustre from the

true, manly, English brain that beats--(and in the serene happiness of

honoured age may it long continue to beat!)--beneath it.

[Sidenote: _Educating the House of Lords_]

[Illustration: APPROPRIATE

FIRST CITIZEN: "I say, Bill--I wonder what he calls hisself?"

SECOND DITTO: "Blowed if I know!--but I calls him a Bloated

Haristocrat."]

As for peers in general, _Punch's_ views may be gathered from his scheme

for the Reform of the House of Lords issued in the same year:--

It is an indisputable truth that there can be no such being as a

born legislator. As unquestionable is the fact that there may be a

born ass.

We are not proving that fact--only stating it--_pace_ your

word-snapper on the look-out for a snap.

But your born ass may be born to your legislator's office, and

command a seat in the house of legislators by inheritance, as in

not a few examples, wherein the coronet hides not the donkey's

ears.

The object of a Reform in the House of Lords should be to keep the

asinines of the aristocracy out of it: so that the business of the

country may be no more impeded by their braying, or harmed by their

kicking.

Nobody is a physician by birth. Even the seventh son of a seventh

son must undergo an examination before he is allowed to prescribe a

dose of physic for an old woman.

But any eldest son, or other male relation, of a person of a

certain order is chartered, as such, to physic the body corporate:

which is absurd.

Now, the Reform we propose for the House of Lords, is, not to admit

any person, whose only claim to membership is that of having been

born a Peer, to practise his profession without examination.

Examine him in the Alphabet--there have been Peers who didn't know

that. In reading, writing, and arithmetic: you already make a

Lord--the Mayor of London--count hobnails. In history--for he is to

help furnish materials for its next page. In geography, astronomy,

and the use of the globes; which, being indispensable to ladies,

are _a fortiori_ to be required of Lords. In political economy, the

physiology of the Constitution which he will have to treat. In

medicine, that he may understand the analogies of national and

individual therapeutics; and also learn not to patronize

homoeopaths and other quacks. In geology, that he may acquire a

philosophical idea of pedigree, by comparing the bones of his

ancestors with those of the ichthyosaurus, or the foundation of his

house with the granite rocks. In the arts and sciences, generally,

which it will be his business to promote, if he does his business.

In literature, that he may cultivate it; at least, respect it, and

stand up for the liberty of unlicensed printing, instead of

insulting and calumniating the Press.

This is our scheme of Peerage Reform, to which the principal

objection we anticipate is, that it is impracticable, because it

can't be done; and that, warned by the confusion and disorder that

has resulted from change in foreign nations, we should shrink from

touching a time-honoured institution; which is as much as to say,

that because our neighbours have divided their carotid arteries, we

had better not shave ourselves.

To "most noble fatuities," "Lord White Sticks," privileged gamblers,

extravagant guardsmen, pluralists (among whom the Greys and Elliots are

specially attacked), and their fulsome upholders in the Press, scant

mercy is shown. Some exceptions are made: Lord Mahon for his interest in

the drama and art; Lord Albemarle for his views on the Reform of the

Marriage Laws; Lord St. Leonards for cutting down Chancery pleadings and

all the "awful and costly machinery of word spinning" connected

therewith. With Lord Brougham, who was so long one of _Punch's_

favourite butts, we deal elsewhere. But neither he nor Sugden (Lord St.

Leonards) belonged to the "Old Nobility"; they were not ranked with the

"snobbish peers" who opposed the education of the masses or the

appointment of a Minister of Education, or wanted to keep poor children

out of the London parks, a topic referred to more than once.

Aristocratic nepotism is another favourite theme of satire: the classic

example being furnished by the famous telegram sent during the Crimean

War by Lord Panmure, when Secretary for War, to Lord Raglan: "Take care

of Dowb." "Dowb." was Captain Dowbiggin, a relative of Lord Panmure's.

Hence the epigram:--

CE N'EST QUE LE PREMIER PAS QUI COÛTE

"The reform of our army," should Panmure ask, "how begin?"

"By not taking," says _Punch_, "quite so much care of Dowbiggin."

With Bulwer Lytton a long feud was maintained, but it was not as a peer

but as a writer and a sophisticated snob that he earned the dislike of

_Punch_, who published (February 28, 1846) Tennyson's retort on his

traducer. In later years, however, a complete reconciliation took place.

[Sidenote: _Thackeray on Great Folks_]

_Punch_ saw no inherent virtue in peers or peerages. He welcomed the

bestowal of one on Macaulay; he applauded the decision of Peel's family

in declining the honour after his death. Mentions by name of noble

personages in his pages in this period are more often hostile than

friendly. He agreed with Tennyson that "kind hearts are more than

coronets," but he was far from maintaining that they were incompatible.

Thackeray, who, as we know, did not see eye to eye with Douglas Jerrold,

and found his constant anti-aristocratic invective tiresome, redressed

the balance, notably in "Mr. Brown's Letters to a Young Man about Town."

Discoursing on good women, in whose company you can't think evil, he

says you may find them in the suburbs and Mayfair, and, again:--

The great comfort of the society of great folks is that they do not

trouble themselves about your twopenny little person, as smaller

persons do, but take you for what you are--a man kindly and

good-natured, or witty and sarcastic, or learned and eloquent, or a

good _raconteur_, or a very handsome man, or an excellent gourmand

and judge of wine--or what not. Nobody sets you so quickly at your

ease as a fine gentleman. I have seen more noise made about a

Knight's lady than about the Duchess of Fitz-Battleaxe herself; and

Lady Mountararat, whose family dates from the Deluge, enter and

leave a room, with her daughters the lovely Ladies Eve and Lilith

D'Arc, with much less pretension, and in much simpler capotes and

what-do-you-call-'ems, than Lady de Mogins, or Mrs. Shindy, who

quit an assembly in a whirlwind, with trumpets and alarums like a

stage King and Queen.

SOCIETY--EXCLUSIVE, GENTEEL, AND SHABBY GENTEEL

For the manners and customs of High Life in the 'forties and 'fifties

_Punch_ cannot be regarded as a first-rate authority for the excellent

reason that, with the exception of Thackeray, none of the staff had the

_entrée_ to these exalted circles. They were busy, hard-worked, often

overworked, journalists and officials, and their recreations and

diversions did not bring them into intimate contact with the dwellers in

Mayfair or Belgravia. They kept a watchful eye upon the extravagances

and vagaries of High Life, but mainly as it revealed itself in its

public form or in politics. In the study of the Geology of Society,

which appeared in one of his earliest numbers, _Punch_ subdivides the

three main strata of Society--High Life, Middle Life, Low Life--into

various classes. The superior, or St. James's series, contains people

wearing coronets, related to coronets, expecting coronets. Thence we

pass to the Russell Square group, and the Clapham group, and thence to

the "inferior series" resident in Whitechapel and St. Giles, and it was

of these groups, especially the transitional, genteel and shabby

genteel, that _Punch_, in his earliest days, had most first-hand

knowledge.

[Sidenote: _Almack's_]

The exclusiveness of fashionable society cannot be better illustrated

than by the existence of such an institution as Almack's. It was nothing

less than a stroke of genius on the part of that shrewd Scot from

Galloway--Almack is said to have been an inversion of his real name,

MacCaul, though another account of his origin represents him as a

Yorkshire Quaker--who came to London as a valet to the Duke of Hamilton,

and, soon after starting Almack's Club, a fashionable resort for

aristocratic gamblers, afterwards merged in Brooks's, opened the famous

Assembly Rooms in King Street, St. James's, where, for more than

seventy-five years, weekly subscription balls were held during the

twelve weeks of the London season. Almack gave his name to the Assembly

Rooms, but the management was entirely vested in the hands of a

committee of lady patronesses of the highest rank and fashion, who

distributed the ten-guinea tickets. By the beginning of the nineteenth

century it was "the seventh heaven of the fashionable world to be

introduced to Almack's." Grantley Berkeley, who frequented the Assembly

Rooms in their golden prime, speaks of the committee as "a feminine

oligarchy, less in number, but equal in power to the Venetian Council of

Ten." They issued the tickets "for the gratification of the _crême de la

crême_ of Society, with a jealous watchfulness to prevent the intrusion

of the plebeian rich or the untitled vulgar; and they drew up a code of

laws, for the select who received invitations, which they, at least,

meant to be as unalterable as those of the Medes and Persians."[16]

Great care was taken that the supply of _débutantes_ should not exceed

the demand, and so many engagements were entered into to the

accompaniment of Collinet's band that Almack's was regarded as, perhaps,

the greatest matrimonial market of the aristocracy. The maximum

attendance recorded was seventeen hundred. Almack himself died in 1781,

bequeathing the Assembly Rooms to his niece, who married Willis, after

whom they were subsequently named. By 1840 their glory had largely

departed, but so serious a review as the _Quarterly_ wrote respectfully

of their decline: "The palmy days of exclusiveness are gone by in

England. Though it is obviously impossible to prevent any given number

of persons from congregating and re-establishing an oligarchy, we are

quite sure that the attempt would be ineffectual, and that the sense of

their importance would extend little beyond the set." Yet Almack's

lingered for several years. In its august precincts, which had welcomed

and sanctioned the waltz (originally condemned as an unseemly

exhibition), the ravages of the successor of the waltz and

quadrille--the polka--are described by _Punch_ (after Byron) in the

lament of the sentimental young lady at the close of the season of 1844.

The craze for dancing was not so widely diffused as in 1920, but to

judge from the "History, Symptoms, and Progress of the Polkamania," all

strata of Society were affected:--

[Footnote 16: _Vide_ Grantley Berkeley's _Recollections_.]

[Illustration: THE POLKA

1. My Polka before Six Lessons.

2. My Polka after Six Lessons.]

[Sidenote: _Polkamania_]

[Illustration: MANNERS AND CVSTOMS OF YE ENGLYSHE IN 1849

AN "AT HOME". YE POLKA.]

That obstinate and tormenting disease, the Polkamania, is said to

have originated in Bohemia; in consequence, we may presume from

analogy, of the bite of some rabid insect like the Tarantula

Spider, although the Polka Spider has not yet been described by

entomologists; but, when discovered, it probably will be under the

name of _Aranea Polkapoietica_. The Polkamania, after raging

fiercely for some time in the principal cities of the Continent, at

length made its appearance in London, having been imported by M.

Jullien, who inoculated certain Countesses and others with its

specific virus, which he is said to have obtained from a Bohemian

nobleman. The form of its eruption was at first circular,

corresponding to the circles of fashion; but it has now extended to

the whole body of society, including its lowest members. Its chief

symptoms are extraordinary convulsions and wild gesticulations of

the limbs, with frequent stampings on the floor, and rotatory

movements of the body, such as accompany lesions of the

_cerebellum_. That part is said by Gall to be the organ of

amativeness; and the Polka delirium, in several instances, has

terminated in love-madness. This form of mania, in the female

subject, displays itself, partly, in a passion for fantastic

finery; as fur trimmings, red, green and yellow boots, and other

strange bedizenments. Articles of dress, indeed, seem capable of

propagating the contagion; for there are Polka Pelisses and Polka

Tunics; now, it was but the other day that we met with some Polka

Wafers, so that the Polkamania seems communicable by all sorts of

things that put it into people's heads. In this respect it

obviously resembles the Plague; but not in this respect only; for,

go where you will, you are sure to be plagued with it. After

committing the greatest ravages in London itself, it attacked the

suburbs, whence it quickly spread to remote districts, and there is

now not a hamlet in Great Britain which it does not infest more or

less. Its chief victims are the young and giddy; but as yet it has

not been known to prove fatal, although many, ourselves included,

have complained of having been bored to death by it. No cure has as

yet been proposed for Polkamania; but perhaps an antidote,

corresponding to vaccination, in the shape of some new jig or other

variety of the caper, may prove effectual: yet, after all, it may

be doubted if the remedy would not be worse than the disease.

Very little change would be needed to fit the above to the Jazzmania of

to-day. The polka had a long innings. When the 'forties opened, the

waltz and the quadrille were firmly entrenched in fashionable favour.

The waltz, as we write, shows signs of rearing its diminished head, but

the quadrille, in those days a most elaborate business with a variety of

figures--La Pastorale, L'Été, La Trénitz, La Poule, etc.--is dead beyond

redemption. But the polka mania raged with little abatement for a good

ten years.[17] In 1844, amongst other advertisements of teachers of the

art of dancing, was that of a young lady who had been instructed by a

Bohemian nobleman. In spite of much ridicule and many appeals (in which

Thackeray joined) for the suppression of the pest, the malady was

described as still acute in the dog-days of 1856, and, in more subdued

phases, lasted for another fifty years. The mazurka also came into vogue

in the mid-'forties, but was never a serious rival to the polka in its

prime. It was an age of famous professional dancers--Taglioni (who gave

her name to an overcoat), Fanny Ellsler, Cerito, and Grisi, the cousin

of the _prima-donna_; but though there were schools of dancing, and

_Thés dansants_, which _Punch_ heavily ridiculed, and though the

fashionables occasionally secured the exclusive use of the lawns at

Cremorne, there was no competition between amateurs and professionals,

as in modern times. The latter were left the monopoly of the higher

flights of the art. Besides the polka, the accomplishments of the young

lady of fashion were mainly decorative. If they did not toil or spin, at

least they occupied themselves with fancy knitting, crochet, and the

practice of Poonah painting--an early and crude imitation of Oriental

art, so popular that the advertisements of instructors in "Indian Poonah

painting" figure in the newspapers and directories of the time. The

fashionable pets were spaniels, macaws, and Persian cats. The prevailing

tastes in art and letters in fashionable or genteel society are

(allowing for a little exaggeration) not badly hit off in a paper on the

Natural History of Courtship, giving hints for the nice conduct of

conversation at a social gathering:--

[Footnote 17: A correspondent wrote to _The Times_ in 1846 complaining

that at Ramsgate "the ladies dance polkas in their bathing dresses," and

suggesting a stricter supervision of the proprieties by policemen.]

[Sidenote: _Modish Futilities_]