Mr. Punch's History of Modern England. Volume 3 of 4.—1874-1892

Punch did not retain a City editor on his staff, but the great increase of limited liability companies in the 'eighties did not escape his notice. The movement had gone so far that in 1886 a cartoon shows a "Baked Tater Merchant" about to convert his business into a limited liability company and retire into private life. The gold boom in Johannesburg in 1889 inspired him with no misgivings, and an optimistic article in the Daily News prompted him to picture the Transvaal, a Colonial Cinderella, transformed by Gold the fairy godmother. England was visited in the same year by a party of American engineers on their way to the Paris Exhibition, and their impressions are summarized in a set of verses entitled, "Yankee Notions," in which Punch undertakes to interpret their admiration and gratitude. They would be admirable if they had been written by an American, but acknowledgments of this sort lose nine-tenths of their virtue when the host usurps the privilege of the guest. Yet as a record of British achievement the lines are worth quoting: —

 
We have seen the Mersey Tunnel, 'tis a tidy little funnel;
The Manchester Ship Canal, and Bridge of Forth, John Bull,
And we find the land of Smeaton not so easily is beaten.
We have travelled East and West, and South and North, John Bull.
In your skill we've grown believers, and those Forth Bridge cantilevers
Lick the topping towers of Washington and Eiffel, John Bull.
And now we would say thankee on behalf of every Yankee
Who has had your hospitality, no trifle, John Bull.
 
 
At the Guildhall Banquet truly every toast was honoured duly,
And the Yankee Engineers received a bumper, John Bull.
The old "Star-spangled Banner," sung by Fryer in a manner
All his own, made every Yankee heart a thumper, John Bull.
It seemed to float right o'er us as we all joined in the chorus,
And drank the loving cup in Civic style, John Bull.
Well, and here's three hearty cheers for Old England's Engineers,
Who make the best of your queer little isle, John Bull.
 
 
'Tisn't long, 'tis rayther narrow, but Laird, Bessemer, and Yarrow,
With Armstrong, Whitworth, Maudslay, Ford, and Rennie,⁷ John Bull.
And others quite as clever use their very best endeavour
To make their little land as good as any, John Bull.
We must presently go back, and when on the homeward track
The results of our excursion we shall tot, John Bull,
And shall find ourselves agreeing we have seen some things worth seeing
In the land of Telford, Stephenson, and Watt, John Bull.
 

Vulcan (Chief Engineer): "Yes, Ma'am, things do look bad, and won't be better till you make a change in your officering! It's been Captain Nep's boys till now – it must be both our boys in future!!"

"Snapshot" photography is mentioned, but one cannot say honourably mentioned, in 1887, and in 1892 the "detective" camera is spoken of as a fashionable plaything. The introduction of the Parcel Post in 1883 inspires a burlesque correspondence on its abuse by the senders of unsuitable articles, such as red herrings. In 1890 the Jubilee of the Penny Post is celebrated in a ballad in praise of Rowland Hill, always one of Punch's heroes, who had carried his point though denounced as a lunatic.

PART II
THE SOCIAL FABRIC

CROWN AND COURT

It was in keeping with the "Orientalism" which coloured Disraeli's conception of Empire that his return to power in 1874 should be marked by a strengthening of the ceremonial ties linking the throne with our great Eastern Dependency. In 1875 the Prince of Wales visited India; in 1876 the Queen assumed the title of Empress of India. Punch showed no lack of good will in speeding the Prince on his journey, while frankly criticizing the incidence of the cost. The grant of money for his expenses was opposed in the House in January, and Punch admitted that the opposition was not altogether captious: —

Everybody but Mr. Disraeli and Mr. Gladstone seems to think the Government has done the thing shabbily. To be sure, the Government ought to know best.

Punch, with Mr. Fawcett, would have preferred that England should have paid every penny of the bill. India has certainly not invited the Prince, and is as little in a position to invite him as she is to decline his visit: is certainly not as well able to afford the expense of entertaining him as Canada was. As to the feeling of the Working-men (Punch is a representative Working-man, and knows), nineteen-twentieths of them – as Mr. Burt, with characteristic straightforwardness admitted – neither think nor care a ha'penny about the matter: the other twentieth, including the blatant gentlemen who get up nasty noisy little mobs in Trafalgar Square, and who claim to speak for the Working-men, because they speak, peculiarly, for themselves, oppose the visit and the grant for it – as they oppose everything suggested by their betters, and, in particular, all grants to members of the Royal Family. They have found just enough voice in Parliament to show how thoroughly they stand opposed to general opinion.

The Prince's return was welcomed with a disclaimer of all venal courtiership: —

 
'Tis no mere flourish of paid pen, no phrase of courtier's tongue
Proclaims us loyal to our line of law-abiding Kings;
'Tis for a son in more than name that England's heart is strung
To this high note of welcome that through the welkin rings.
 
 
He is kindly, gay and gracious – he is manly, bold and brave;
He bore him manly, princely, as an English prince should do;
He took the rubs and roughings of travel like a man,
And, if he won new friends in crowds, to the old friends still was true.
 

It was once said of an old Tory that, although generally intelligent, whenever he began to talk of the Royal Family or the nobility, his jaw dropped, and he became quite inarticulate. Punch's jaw certainly did not drop over the Queen's new title, for which he had no welcome. He thought it a piece of Oriental Disraelian clap-trap, gave a sarcastic account of the Proclamation at Delhi, and published cartoons in which Disraeli figured as repainting the sign of the old Queen's Head, and as a magician with new crowns for old. Punch's antipathy to the new style also found vent in a "Hymn to Victoria" after Ben Jonson: —

 
Queen or Empress, Lady fair,
Sovran of the swelling deep,
Who, in distant Orient air,
Dost the sway of nations keep,
Must we, changing style with scene,
Hail an Empress in our Queen?
 
 
Where the tiger haunts the glade,
Where the mystic Ganges flows,
Where we English, unafraid,
Govern friends who once were foes,
There thy power is felt, unseen,
There men bow to England's Queen.
 
 
Lay the imperial style apart;
Leave it to the lords of legions:
Queen in every English heart,
Be thou Queen in Eastern regions.
Keep thy style and state serene —
Who so great as India's Queen?
 

Mr. Bull: "No, no, Benjamin, it will never do! You can't improve on the old 'Queen's Head'!"

Another set of verses printed a month or so later go so far as to call "Emperor" a "name accursed." The old title was good enough for Punch: —

 
Still "King" or "Queen," from earliest days,
To British understanding
A sense of rank supreme conveys
That brooks no rash expanding.
 
 
Symbol august of royal state
With Freedom's spirit blended;
Can title so securely great
Be altered or amended?
 

The Queen's visit to Lord Beaconsfield at Hughenden in December, 1877, is treated in a spirit of genial irony with an undercurrent of distrust in the Premier's flamboyant imagination. Punch wonders what the tree was that the Queen planted: possibly "of some Asian order from a Hebrew root." In the accompanying picture it is labelled, "Conditional Neutrality," and Gladstone is shown looking on, with his axe, as though he would like to cut it down. Opposition to the Royal grants was again vocal in 1878 in connexion with the Duke of Connaught's marriage, when Sir Charles Dilke's motion was defeated by 320 to 33 votes. Dilke's view was that there was no instance of the Crown holding out for a marriage portion – except in the case of marriages in a manner forced to raise Royal issue – before the present reign. The Government and the Opposition, backed by Gladstone, contended that the precedents did not apply. Punch advocated an overhauling of the existing arrangements as soon as they ran out. In the memorial stanzas on Princess Alice, the Grand Duchess of Hesse Darmstadt, Punch abstains from prophecy, a fortunate abstention in view of the tragic future in store for her daughters; and pays a well merited tribute to a good woman, above reproach whether as daughter, wife, mother and sovereign. He applauds the Duke of Albany for a speech in 1879 warning the British working man not to be outstripped by foreign competitors in industry, intelligence and taste, and welcomes the Prince as following in the steps of his father. The Duke of Connaught's marriage in the same year is celebrated in verse, Punch declaring that he can't gush, but feels glad; a sentiment tempered by an ironical description of the Royalties and nobilities present at the wedding and of their cheap and homely presents.

Loyalty with Reserves

There is a kindly reference in the same year to the death of the Prince of Abyssinia (son of King Theodore), who was taken prisoner at Magdala in 1868, and buried at Windsor by the Queen's desire. In his Elegy on "poor Rasselas," Punch speaks of the "kind Queen's mother heart." Yet the continued seclusion of the "Royal Recluse" does not escape notice, and the Birthday verses to the Princess of Wales show that it proved a strain on Punch's loyalty: —

 
'Tis not that Punch– as leal as wise —
Loves less his Queen by closer ties,
Though she but rarely glads his eyes
From Deeside and from Wight.
"The absent still are in the wrong!"
So runs a French saw current long;
But Punch's loyalty is strong,
Be who will wrong or right.
 

The artistic efforts of Royalties are commended in 1881, when Princess Louise and the German Crown Princess exhibited canvases at the Society of Painters in Water Colours. Punch, in his earlier days, had seldom a good word to say for the Royal patronage of the arts, and in the same year he indulged in an audacious description of the depressing conditions under which they were studied in Royal Palaces, and of the boredom resulting from perpetual attendance on the Queen in her self-imposed seclusion: —

FROM A COURT JOURNAL

(Not published every Saturday)

1st. Back from Balmoral. What a relief! So pleasant to be near something civilized again. Dear L – called early, and wanted me so much to make a pleasant day of it. It would have been so nice. Private view of some lovely frescoes to begin with. Then a quiet little luncheon together, and, after that, to Lady – 's delightful place, to have some lawn-tennis, perhaps a little boating, and then finish with a drive back to town in the cool of the evening. Of course, I couldn't be spared. So, rest of diurnal programme as usual. Walked with Mamma. Had luncheon with Mamma. Drove with Mamma. Dined with Mamma. On the whole, rather a monotonous day.

2nd to 9th inclusive. Nothing particular. Walked daily with Mamma. Had luncheon daily with Mamma. Drove daily with Mamma. Dined daily with Mamma. So, the fifteen pressing invitations for various things this week had, of course, to be declined. Never mind: I got on with my etchings; but the next book I illustrate shall be called "The New Cinderella." Dear me! if I could only get somebody to write it, couldn't I make a capital picture of the young maid's delight at finding her wretched State-coach changed suddenly into a lovely pumpkin!

10th. A very eventful day. Some Indian potentate, with a peculiar turban, was made, by Mamma, an honorary Member of Knights of the Third Class of the Order of St. Michael and St. George. I attended. As usual, it was all over in three minutes. I wonder whether he could have taken a walk with Mamma, stayed to luncheon with Mamma, had a drive with Mamma, and have dined with Mamma, if Mamma had thought of ordering him! But there was no opportunity. The gentleman, too, who brought him, seemed so very anxious to get him back to Claridge's Hotel as quickly as possible. Perhaps he feared the honour might be too much for the Asiatic mind. N'importe! Ah! happy Indian potentate, breathing the free air of Claridge's Hotel!

11th to 18th. More walking with Mamma, taking luncheon with Mamma, driving with Mamma, and dining with Mamma. Some Germans to dinner once or twice. I shall learn Chinese. And that reminds me. I wonder whether Aladdin's Princess, with her tiny little feet, managed, after all, to get better about Pekin than I can about London.

19th. Osborne. Dear A – came with the children and pressed for me to be allowed to join them on the yacht, and see the regatta, and have a real sail, and spend a quite too lovely day! No use; so she went back, and I took a walk as usual with Mamma, had luncheon as usual with Mamma, and dined as usual with Mamma. Everything very much as usual. Stay, though; I am forgetting. I must add a two hours' steam up and down on the Alberta, a mile and a half away from everything, which the Court Journal will no doubt describe as "witnessing the regatta" with Mamma!

20th to 27th. The usual Osborne routine. Of course, I am perfectly happy doing nothing else but walking, taking luncheon, driving and dining continually with Mamma; though I should like to be able to get away a little now and then. In one of our drives round the island we passed several groups of happy girls enjoying themselves, in the society of their relatives and friends, in various healthful and innocent ways (with the permission of their Mammas). Yes, I must take in hand "The New Cinderella"!

28th and 29th. Off again to Balmoral, without waiting for the State ball on the 30th. Journey full of novelty.

30th. Once more in the bonnie Highlands! Attend the Servants' Ball, and wonder why, while they may enjoy a dance, I mayn't. Wonder how the State Ball is going on. Go to rest wondering, and finally dream that I am walking, taking luncheon, driving, dining and making immense progress in Chinese, simultaneously, with Mamma till further notice!

The Empress of Austria's Visits

In this context it should be noted that Princess Beatrice's Birthday Book, illustrated by Walter Crane, Caldecott and Kate Greenaway, is commended by Punch at the close of the year.

The Kaiser's marriage forms the theme of some jocular and negligible lines: too little then was known of his character and temperament to expect any illuminating comment on the event. But a good deal of space is devoted to the Empress of Austria's hunting visits to Ireland and England – a vivid contrast to the dreary experiences chronicled in the Court Journal quoted above. Hunting in Meath had been boycotted in the winter of 1881, and the Empress returned to her quarters at Combermere Abbey in Cheshire. Punch appeals to the Irish to wipe out the stain and revert to the chivalry of the Irish Brigade, while he welcomed the Empress to England.

In the following year the attempt on the Queen's life by a lunatic, and the intervention of the Eton boy who punched the lunatic's head, are duly chronicled. In one of the worst of his ceremonial cartoons Punch is seen on bended knee presenting a letter of congratulation from her loving People to the Queen and Princess Beatrice. Even the great Tenniel could not always give dignified expression to a genuine and general sentiment. No criticism, however, can be offered on Punch's approval of the Queen's courage in appearing in public, shortly after this incident, to open Epping Forest. The verses on the marriage of the Duke of Albany in 1882 alluded to him as "the latest, youngest, not least wise" of Royal Princes, and the worthy inheritor of the Prince Consort's studious tastes. The accompanying cartoon shows the Duke with the Duchess behind him on a pillion, riding to Claremont. In the autumn of the same year his delicate health aroused public uneasiness, and Punch contrasts the formidable technical account of his symptoms in the Lancet with the reassuring statements of the Morning Post.

On the relations of Royalty to sport, Punch had always been extremely sensitive. The bitterest things he ever said of the Prince Consort were directed against his stag-shooting exploits and pheasant battues in the 'forties. Much in the same spirit is the vehement protest which he uttered early in 1878 against the cruelty to an eagle which was trapped at Windsor after Prince Christian and several keepers had vainly tried to shoot it. The wretched eagle, according to The Times, tore itself out of the trap, leaving one of its toes behind, and Punch is indignantly sarcastic at this treatment of the royal bird. He was mildly satirical in 1876 when the Balmoral Curling Club was broken up owing to the tendency of the game "to encourage a love for whisky." On the other hand, and unlike other critics, he was always ready to acknowledge when Royalties acted on the maxim noblesse oblige. The Princess of Wales's efforts to get pigeon shooting abolished at Hurlingham in 1883 prompted the picture of the Triumph of Sir Pigeon in the Lists with the Princess as Queen of Beauty in the Tournament of Doves. Unluckily Punch's jubilation was premature. Mr. Anderson's Bill, supported by W. E. Forster, and opposed by Sir Walter Barttelot, was "turned down" by the House, to the disgust of Punch, who asked why could not the Home Secretary, Sir William Harcourt, follow the example of Holland and forbid pigeon shooting. Still, two minor victories are scored to the credit of the Princess of Wales this year. "She has banished the crinolette, in spite of Paris. She has retained the small bonnet, still in spite of Paris," and Punch chronicles the triumph in pleasantly whimsical rhymes.

John Brown

The critic re-emerges in a long and sarcastic account of the public sale by auction of portraits and furniture – down to kitchen chairs – belonging to the Duke and Duchess of Teck, which Punch considered as undignified and improper, though he found the catalogue a feeding-ground for laughter and a stimulant to satire. In the same year the Queen's trusted attendant, John Brown, died. It is hard for the present generation to realize the mixed feelings which the Queen's reliance on this royal factotum excited in the minds of the public at a time when the popularity of the Court was impaired by her long seclusion. His very name is now forgotten, though in the 'seventies and early 'eighties it was on every lip – often as an incentive to slighting or indecorous comment. Punch's tribute is somewhat ponderous in style, but he makes a good point in distinguishing this faithful if somewhat angular Scotsman from the minions and freaks of other Courts: —

 
Service of Kings not always in earth's story
Has been a badge of honour: gilded glory
Of silken favourite dulls down to dust;
Devotion self-respecting, sober, just,
Lifts lowliest tendance to ennobling state.
A good Queen's faithful follower! His the fate
To wear the honours of the antique school,
Right Service, nobler than unrighteous rule.
 

Punch's alternations of loyalty and exceedingly frank criticism of Royalty during this period are, it must be admitted, abrupt and even bewildering. In the following extracts from The Speaker; a Handbook to ready-made Oratory, we find him in his most unbridled and unmuzzled mood: —

PART I. – LOYAL TOASTS

Duke of Edinburgh.– Sailor. Plays the fiddle like an angel. Married to rich Russian Princess. Friend of Sir Arthur Sullivan.

Duke of Connaught.– First-class Soldier, covered with Egyptian Medals… His Royal Highness may be called "the heroic and beloved son of our revered Sovereign" – by a provincial Mayor. Name may be introduced in connexion with Ireland, the Franco-German War, Foreign Stocks – "Prefs." and "Unified" – the late Duke of Wellington, and "the Patrol Camp Equipage Hold-all."

Duke of Albany.– Scientific. Called after the King of the Belgians. Was at Oxford. Connected more or less with South Kensington, Upton Park Road, Bedford Park, the Kyrle Society, and Cremona violins. Is walking in the steps of the late greatly lamented Prince Consort.

Prince Teck.– Served with distinction as a letter-carrier on the field of Tel-el-Kebir, sold furniture of Kensington Palace by auction, and retired abroad. Name of no great value to anyone.

Here Punch, consciously or unconsciously, was satirizing himself in his ceremonial moods. He was on much safer ground in the excellent pictorial burlesque of the life of the Duke of Clarence at Cambridge, based on a series of illustrations in a serious picture-paper in which, amongst other incidents, the Prince had been depicted as "coxing" a racing boat from the bow! This was fair game. There is a spice of malice in the prospectus of an hotel which would supply "a long felt want" by catering at cheap prices for Royal visitors, foreign Princes and potentates, who could not be suitably accommodated in Buckingham Palace. The publication in February, 1884, of a further instalment of "Leaves from her Journal in the Highlands" is claimed as the Queen's Valentine to Mr. Punch. When the Duke of Albany died in March, Punch did not err on the side of underestimating the promise and achievement of that estimable Prince, but there is an uncanny resemblance between his graceful elegiac stanzas and the points outlined in the handbook of loyal toasts noted above. For a few months the irresponsible satirist is silent; but he explodes again towards the close of the year over the rumour that the Crown of Brunswick had been offered to the Duke of Cambridge, and that he absolutely refused to resign the command of the British Army. As the rumour was groundless, there was no excuse for Punch's malicious imaginary dialogue between the Duke and the foreign officer who had come to make him the offer. In representing the Duke as being discovered writing an article for the Sunday Times on "Dress," Punch was only reverting to the old familiar gibe at the passionate preoccupation of the Royal Family with tailoring.

A Pacific Prince

"And what's all this I hear, Barbara, about your wanting to find some Occupation?"

"Well, you see, it's so dull at Home, Uncle. I've no Brothers or Sisters – and Papa's paralysed – and Mamma's going blind – so I want to be a Hospital Nurse."

The alternations of candour and cordiality continue in the following year. The Duke of Clarence is heartily congratulated on attaining his majority; and the visit of the Prince and Princess of Wales to Ireland is chronicled in cartoons in which the Prince figures as a stage Irishman, and Erin is seen reproving a sullen little rebel. The Prince of Wales's visit to Berlin in the same year (1885) is hailed as an omen of more pacific relations – the Prince figuring as a Dove, the old Emperor as a friendly Eagle. This was the year in which Princess Beatrice, the youngest of the Queen's daughters, was married to Prince Henry of Battenberg. Punch makes a remarkably frank allusion to the discussions in the House over her marriage portion in May. The passage is interesting not merely for the matter but for the new manner of the "Essence of Parliament," widely different from that of Shirley Brooks: —

Thursday. Gladstone moved Resolution allotting Wedding Dowry of six thousand a year to Princess Beatrice. On the whole rather a depressing business. More like a funeral than the preliminary to a wedding party. House listened in politely glum silence. Gladstone seemed to feel this, and laboured along making most of argument that this was the last. Also (being the last) promised Committee for next year to go into whole matter. Labby opposed vote, and O'Brien testified afresh to his disappointment at failure of efforts made to spoil success of Prince of Wales' visit to Ireland. W. Redmond gave the proposal a great fillip by opposing it, and House divided: 337 for making the little present; 38, chiefly Parnellites, against.

By way of set-off, Punch descanted melodiously on the "Royal Ring-Doves," alluding to Princess Beatrice as

 
England's home-staying daughter, bride, yet bound
As with silk ties, within the dear home-round
By many a gentle reason.
 

Here one cannot forget that terrible Court Journal of four years back, or acquit Punch of irony in the light of the fact (recorded in the Annual Register) that the Queen only gave her consent to the marriage on condition of Princess Beatrice's living in England. The discomforts and stinginess of the Court are satirized in an acid extract from the "Letter of a Lady-in-Waiting" in January, 1886, and there is a good deal of veiled sarcasm in the long account of the opening of the Colonial and Indian Exhibition in the summer. The whole ceremony is made to appear tedious, badly rehearsed and trivial, and the Queen is described as speaking with a "slightly foreign accent." Cordiality revives, however, in the verses "Astræa Redux," on the Queen's "happy restoration to public life," à propos of her visit to Liverpool; and in the reference to her patronage of the Carl Rosa Opera Company at the Lyceum.

Punch's Jubilee Ode

With the year of the Queen's Golden Jubilee Punch's chivalrous devotion to the person of the sovereign, which had never failed even in his most democratic days, reawakened in full force. In his Jubilee ode he emphasizes throughout the peaceful aim of the celebration: —

 
Not with the ruthless Roman's proud parade
Of flaunting ensigns and of fettered foes,
Nor radiantly arrayed
In pomp of purple, such as fitly flows
From the stern Conqueror's shoulders, comes our Queen
Whilst England's ways with June's glad garniture are green.
 
 
Not with the scent of battle, or the taint
Of cruel carnage round about her car,
Making the sick air faint
With the dread breath of devastating war,
Rolls on our Royal Lady, whilst the shout
Of a free people's love compasses her about.
 
 
The pageantry that every step attends
Is not the martial pomp that tyrants love,
No purchased shout of slaves the shamed air rends;
Peace's white-pinion'd dove
Might perch upon those banners unafraid,
The shackled forces here are thralls of Art and Trade.
 
 
Triumph! Shall we not triumph who have seen
Those fifty years round on from sun to snow,
From snow to sun, since when, a girlish Queen
In that far June-tide's glow,
Your brow first felt that golden weight well-worn,
Which tried the Woman's heart, but hath not over-borne?
 
 
Fifty fair years which, like to all things fair,
Are flecked with shadow, yet whereon the sun
Hath never set in shame or in despair,
Their changeful course have run.
And we who saw the dawn now flock to see
June's noonday light illume Victoria's Jubilee.
 
 
Just, pure, and gentle, yet of steadfast will
When high occasion calls and honour pricks!
With such a soul our Commonwealth should thrill,
That, that alone shall fix
Our rule in rock-like safety, and maintain
Free way for England's flag o'er the wind-winnowed main.
 
 
And Punch, whose memory scans those fifty years,
Whose patriot forecast broods o'er coming-days,
Smiles with the smiling throngs, and lifts his cheers,
With those the people raise,
And prays that firmer faith, spirit more free,
May date from this proud day of jocund Jubilee.
 

The June and July numbers are dominated by the Jubilee, and Punch, though he spoke with many voices in dealing with the various phases of the festival, kept his criticism within limits of wholly genial satire and whimsicality. There was a scene of decorous "revelry by night" at the Reform Club, which gave a ball on June 16, recorded in a set of verses with solos for Sir William Harcourt, John Bright and Lord Rosebery, packed with political innuendoes, and winding up with a soliloquy from the grand old M.C. (without) who sings: —

 
Call this a Ball? More muddled every minute;
Not one good dancer there. Glad I'm not in it!
 

The Lord Chamberlain, in Sambourne's picture, figures as the "boots" of an hotel, run off his legs by the demands of Princes, Potentates, Ambassadors: —

 
'Midst pleasures and 'midst palaces to roam,
Is nice for foreign dignities, no doubt;
But then they've lots of palaces at home,
Which we are quite without.
 

"Robert, the City Waiter," descants on the festivities; the Editor was prodigal of puns; there were Jubilee mock advertisements; and a certain amount of criticism of the arrangements, though, as I note elsewhere, Punch pays a special tribute to the police for their efficiency, courtesy, patience and humanity. A protest is entered against the route of procession being exclusively West End, and Punch suggests an extension to take in some of the poorer parts of London. The procession itself is described in a long article entitled "The Longest Day," noting various incidents, such as the unhorsing of the Marquis of Lorne, and summing up in the words: "For impressive splendour and simple dignity, the Royal Procession couldn't be beaten. But as a Pageant there was much to be desired." The closed carriages were a mistake; the military bands were not fully used, and musically the procession was "the dullest of its sort ever witnessed in any big city on any big occasion." Still the police were A1, and Messrs. Brock gave the public a "Brocken night" at the Crystal Palace, where the rhododendrons were in their glory. The scene in the Abbey was "Abbey and glorious." But Punch, after an explosion of punning, becomes serious as he describes the scene when the Queen took her seat on the Throne, and the moving sequel when she discarded precedent and showed her womanliness by embracing her children. Nor does Punch omit to mention the masque, performed by the Benchers of Gray's Inn, originally produced by Sir Francis Bacon in 1613; the Naval Review with the curious incident of Lord Charles Beresford's resignation in consequence of a breach of etiquette on his part in using public signals to send a private message to his wife; and the Queen's visit to Hatfield when the "lordly Cecil" entertained his sovereign as his ancestor had done in 1573.

Punch, as I have often been at pains to insist, was a Londoner, but he did not hesitate to pronounce the Manchester Exhibition as the "gem of the Jubilee," a "perfect article" and "a superb model." It was better than any of the shows at South Kensington, and Punch rightly singles out as its special glory the magnificent Picture Gallery of Modern English Painters. On the other hand, provincial ideas of suitable Jubilee memorials come in for a good deal of ridicule. The list, which includes a central pig-market, a new town pump, a cemetery, a new sewage scheme, gasworks, etc., is clearly farcical, but an actual instance is quoted from the Western Daily Mail of the decision of a village in Cardiganshire to celebrate Her Majesty's Jubilee by providing a public hearse. "The chairman, who originated the proposal, was congratulated upon his happy idea, and an Executive Committee was formed to carry it out," which prompted Punch to suggest that they ought to get Mr. Hayden Coffin to sing their Jubilee ode. Punch's own serious suggestion for a Jubilee memorial was the revival and extension of Queen Anne's Bounty to improve the lot of the poor clergy, in place of the Church House Scheme.