Chapter V: Part 5

Now the moon shone with such intensity that the country stood as clearly defined as in full daylight, and the time was half-past nine. Here we were at the height of 1,900 mètres, and we seemed to be entering into another world. Here all Nature was in dead silence, superb and terrible; we were in the clouds. My husband has described the scene better than I am able. We were in the starry skies, having at our feet clouds that seemed vast mountains of snow--an impressive, unearthly landscape--white alps, glaciers, valleys, ridges, precipices. An unknown Nature revealed herself, creating, as in a dream, the most dazzling and fantastic panoramas. Stupendous combats between the clouds arose and rolled; the air-currents followed one another, hurled and flung themselves in mighty commotion, shaking and breaking, in dead silence, the monstrous masses. We felt, we saw in action, the powerful, incessant, prodigious forces of the atmosphere, while the earth slept below.

It was a scene beyond all words. Presently a monstrous elephant formed itself before our eyes. We entered into the very midst of it, and were blinded by the cold and damp vapour--a singular and awful cloud, whence we emerged but to plunge again into others more awful still; now a furious sea, now a group of hideous phantoms, now long, luminous tracts, glittering like streams of silver in the ghostly white light. "This is not so pleasant," my brother-in-law murmured. "Why not descend?"

The billows of cloud piled together, terribly agitated. Above us, below us and about us, all was stirred to fury. My agitation was great; for of all these circumstances the silence, the absolute silence, was the most terrible. Amid all the shocks of the cloud-masses, amid all the rages of the hideous gigantic phantoms, of those fearful forces that might at any moment crush us in a clap of thunder, not a sound, even of the faintest, was heard. The balloon glided through the enervating, cloud-filled heavens steadily and proudly, and soon we were free of the mists, and sailing serenely under the deep blue sky in the pale light of the moon.

"I like this better," said Ernest, and we agreed with him.

We gazed at the white plain of rolling clouds below us. What was that--the little ball that ran so quickly along the furrowed white spaces? The little ball edged with an aureole of tender colours?

"That?" answered Godard. "That is we ourselves--the balloon, or rather its shadow. What do you think of its rate of travelling, Madame Flammarion--you who imagine that we are not moving at all?"

Truly, it was our own shadow, swiftly skimming the clouds below, a curious and charming sight.

And now we saw the first signs of dawn. The balloon sank and sank, and soon we were skimming above meadows scented with a thousand perfumes. To us it seemed that we must touch the trees every moment, so nearly did we approach the earth. But, as a matter of fact, we were still a hundred mètres from the ground. Again it was a delightful experience, thus to skim above the earth in the silent, starry morning, without a breath of air that we could feel. The plains, the hills, the rivulets passed before us as in a dream. It was communion with Nature indeed.

"Now," said Godard, suddenly, "we are ascending, and quickly." And, indeed, as he spoke we shot upwards, and in a moment were again among the clouds. In the distance we observed a peculiar light. Was it a lighthouse? No, we were far from the sea. Reassured on this point, we are soon uneasy in regard to another, for presently we saw that lightning-flashes were traversing the clouds. "It is a storm," Godard observed, "and it will be a bad one."

"Then we will throw out ballast and avoid it," said my husband.

It was done, and instantly we ascended to the height of 3,000 mètres. Now we saw that the deep blue of the sky was paling, and day broke. Far above us Sirius glittered, and in a few moments more our altitude was 4,000 mètres, the highest of the trip. At this height I breathed less freely; and everything liquid in the car--even the wine--was frozen. We shivered under our furs, and there was a humming in my ears. In spite of these drawbacks I was as enthusiastic as ever, and I assured my husband, who expressed some solicitude for me, that I had never been better, and that I would be very glad to live in a balloon! And as for descending, who could think of it, with such a spectacle before us? Behind us was the moon and the darkness; below, afar, a storm of lightning and thunder; and before us, most wonderful of all, the rising of the sun, filling the empyrean with his rays and flinging a mantle of purple and gold over all, clouds and balloon alike. The mysterious and weird beauties of the night gave place to the brilliant metamorphosis of day.

And now, alas! we returned to earth. In twenty minutes, after a swift though tranquil descent from the height of 4,000 mètres, we were again among our fellow-mortals, in the neighbourhood of Spa. Our trip had lasted nearly thirteen hours.

The population of the district had never seen a balloon so near, and our arrival roused the countryside. The people came running from every direction, yelling and gesticulating, and scarcely had the car touched earth when it was surrounded so closely by a crowd of peasants that it was impossible for Godard to make proper arrangements for landing. By dint of frightful grimaces and abuse, he induced them to draw back sufficiently to enable him to make fast, and then my companions were obliged to protect me: for the women, and even some of the men, came to touch me--my hair, my hands, my face, and my clothes--to make sure that I was really alive!

Ernest Flammarion alighted first. "I am very happy," he said, "to have been up in a balloon, but I don't think I shall go again."

As for my husband, his persistent passion for ballooning is well known; and as for myself, I have made two more aerial voyages with him, and I would be glad to make a thousand.

One gets, of course, very little of common luxuries in a balloon. There is just a car of basket-work, and a wooden plank for a seat. The knees must serve for a table, and the head rests on the edge of the car when one sits and rests. The bench will hold only two at a time, and even the two find it a tight fit. Of course, it is impossible to cook in a balloon, for anything in the nature of fire would produce an instant blow-up, and a scattering of the whole expedition to the four winds. The food one takes consists of cold meat, bread, fruit, eggs, and perhaps salad--prepared beforehand. M. Flammarion carried his instruments as usual--his barometers, telescopes, thermometers, and the rest--on his wedding trip, and made scientific observations and notes from first to last.

_A Peep into "Punch."_

BY J. HOLT SCHOOLING.

[_The Proprietors of "Punch" have given special permission to reproduce the accompanying illustrations. This is the first occasion when a periodical has been enabled to present a selection from Mr. Punch's famous pages._]

PART I.--1841 TO 1849.

Mr. Punch has, perhaps, never given a better proof of ability to gauge the public mind of this country than that contained in the following lines, quoted from the issue dated November 5, 1898:

A WARNING WORD.

[_From Mr. Punch's "Vagrant."_]

Dear Punch,--I am not one to bellow
Nor am I much on bloodshed bent;
I'm not a tearing Jingo fellow,
All fuss, and froth, and discontent.

[_Here follow some verses relating to political affairs, and then come the lines printed below. J. H. S._]

We have another, sterner matter--
The Frenchman posted on the Nile.

Not his to reason? True! I like him,
His skill to act, his pluck to dare.
I'd sooner cheer him, far, than strike him--
But why did others send him there?
In truth, they did not mean to please us;
They must have realised with joy
That MARCHAND on the Nile must tease us,
And sent him merely to annoy.

So be it then: we know what's what now,
And what the Frenchmen would be at.
Though Major MARCHAND's on the spot now,
He's got to pack and go--that's flat.
We're tired of gracefully conceding,
Tired, too, of jibe and jeer and flout;
Our answer may show lack of breeding,
But there it is--a plain "Get out."

If one should, thinking I am weak, Sir,
Smite me on one cheek black and blue,
I'm told to turn the other cheek, Sir,
But not _both_ cheeks and forehead too.
Year in, year out, they've tried to spite us,
We've borne it with a sorry grin;
And now--well, if they _want_ to fight us,
Coat's off, and let the fun begin!

_Punch_ published these lines just before Lord Salisbury announced at the Mansion House dinner, given in honour of Lord Kitchener on November 4, that France had come round to our view of the Fashoda question, and _Punch's_ neat verses just quoted give an excellently succinct and pithy expression to the feeling of the average peace-loving Briton, who has become quite weary of being diplomatically played with by France in our colonial affairs, and who was, and is, quite ready to "take off his coat."

The preceding illustration of Mr. Punch's terse and true expression of public opinion is the most recent that can now be given, but as one looks through the pages of the 113 Volumes of _Punch_, which bring this famous periodical to the end of the year 1897, one notices many other examples of Mr. Punch's acute discernment and pithy expression of the public mind, which have been stepping-stones of fame to him during his long life of nearly sixty years, quite apart from the weekly dish of good things offered by Mr. Punch to his public.

2.--THE FIRST PICTURE IN "PUNCH." 1841.]

Thanks to the kindness of Messrs. Bradbury and Agnew, the proprietors of _Punch_, I am able to give to the general public some of the pleasure that comes from the possession of a complete set of _Punch_. In reading one's _Punch_ the pleasure is much enhanced by Mr. M. H. Spielmann's most admirable book, "The History of Punch" [_Cassell and Company, Limited, 1895_], for Mr. Spielmann is probably the best living authority on this subject, and his researches, which extended over four years, enable the ordinary _Punch_-lover to find many points of great interest [specially in the early Volumes] which, without Mr. Spielmann's book, might be passed over without notice. Some of the _Punch_ engravings now shown have been found by the aid of Mr. Spielmann's book, which is a thoroughly reliable and quite indispensable Text-Book on _Punch_, while, on other points, I have been privileged to consult Mr. W. Lawrence Bradbury and Mr. Philip L. Agnew as well as Mr. Spielmann himself.

CANVASSING. THE DEPUTATON.

THE SUCCESSFUL CANDIDATE. THE HUSTINGS. THE PUBLIC DINNER.

3.--THE FIRST OF MR. PUNCH'S CARTOONS. 1841.]

When the Queen came to the throne there was no _Punch_. He was conceived in circumstances of much mystery, for many have claimed the honour of his paternity. The historian of _Punch_ has devoted a long chapter to this matter of _Punch's_ paternity, and has judicially weighed the evidence for or against each claimant. Mr. Spielmann writes:--

Yet although it was not ... Henry Mayhew who was the actual
initiator of _Punch_, it was unquestionably he to whom the whole
credit belongs of having developed Landell's specific idea of a
"Charivari," and of its conception in the form it took. Though not
the absolute author of its existence, he was certainly the author
of its literary and artistic being, and to that degree, as he was
wont to claim, he was its _founder_.

4.--THE FIRST PICTURE BY JOHN LEECH. 1841.]

Thus, the opinion of the best authority is that Henry Mayhew and Ebenezer Landells were the real founders of _Punch_.

Early in 1841, after several discussions between the members of the first staff of _Punch_, the original prospectus was drawn up by Mark Lemon. The first page of this three-page foolscap document is shown in reduced facsimile in illustration No. 1 of this article. An excellent facsimile, on the original blue foolscap paper, is bound up in a little anonymous pamphlet published in the year 1870, "Mr. Punch: His Origin and Career": but Mr. Bradbury told me that many of the statements about _Punch_ in this pamphlet are erroneous, although the document is an exact copy of the original in Mr. Bradbury's possession, which happens just now to be packed away in a warehouse, and so cannot be photographed.

There once lived a king in Armenia, whose name was Poof-Allee-Shaw;
he was called by his people, and the rest of the world who
happened to hear of him, Zubberdust, or, the Poet, founding
his greatest glory, like Bulwer-Khan, Moncktoon-Milnes-Sahib,
Rogers-Sam-Bahawder, and other lords of the English Court, not so
much on his possessions, his ancient race, or his personal beauty
(all which, 'tis known, these Frank emirs possess), as upon his
talent for poetry, which was in truth amazing.

He was not, like other sovereigns, proud of his prowess in arms,
fond of invading hostile countries, or, at any rate, of reviewing
his troops when no hostile country was at hand, but loved Letters
all his life long. It was said, that, at fourteen, he had copied
the Shah-Nameh ninety-nine times, and, at the early age of
twelve, could repeat the Koran backwards. Thus he gained the most
prodigious power of memory; and it is related of him, that a Frank
merchant once coming to his Court, with a poem by Bulwer-Khan
called the Siamee-Geminee (or, Twins of Siam), His Majesty,
Poof-Allee, without understanding a word of the language in which
that incomparable epic was written, nevertheless learned it off,
and by the mere force of memory, could repeat every single word of
it.

Now, all great men have their weakness; and King Poof-Allee, I am
sorry to say, had his. He wished to pass for a poet, and not having
a spark of originality in his composition, nor able to string two
verses together, would, with the utmost gravity, repeat you a
sonnet of Hafiz or Saadee, which the simpering courtiers applauded
as if it were his own.

5.--THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE FIRST LITERARY CONTRIBUTION BY THACKERAY, WHO ALSO DREW THIS INITIAL SKETCH, 1842.]

It is interesting to see in No. 1 that the name _Punch_ was substituted for the struck-out title, "The Fun ----." It has been suggested that the title thus cut short in favour of the single word _Punch_ was to have been "The Funny Dogs with Comic Tales," and the prospectus ends with the words, "Funny dogs with comic tales." The price was written "Twopence," although the price of _Punch_ has always been Threepence.

6.--THE FIRST PICTURE OF THE QUEEN IN "PUNCH." 1841.]

As regards the sudden change of title to _Punch_--a change made, as we see from the facsimile, while Mark Lemon was in the very act of writing the title--Mr. Spielmann has recorded that there are as many versions as to the origin of _Punch's_ name as of the origin of the periodical itself.

Hodder declares that it was Mayhew's sudden inspiration. Last
asserted that when "somebody" at the _Edinburgh Castle_ meeting
spoke of the paper, like a good mixture of punch, being nothing
without Lemon, Mayhew caught at the idea and cried, "A capital
idea! We'll call it _Punch_!"

There have been many other claimants to the distinction of having thought of the title "Punch," which is certainly an infinitely better title than "Funny Dogs with Comic Tales" and much better than "The Funny Dogs," which I suggest may have been the title Mark Lemon began to write, judging from the place on the paper (see No. 1), where he began with the words, "The Fun ----"; for if he had intended to write the longer title, "The Funny Dogs with Comic Tales," he must have run the last part of this long title too far to the right of his paper to be consistent with the symmetrical position given to his other headings, etc., on the sheet of foolscap: a practised writer unconsciously allows enough space for the symmetrical setting out of his headlines, etc., and that Mark Lemon was a specially practised writer is very clearly shown by inspection of this interesting facsimile.

A private letter from Hanover states that, precisely at twelve minutes to eleven in the morning on the ninth of the present November, his majesty King ERNEST was suddenly attacked by a violent fit of blue devils. All the court doctors were immediately summoned, and as immediately dismissed, by His Majesty, who sent for the Wizard of the North (recently appointed royal astrologer), to divine the mysterious cause of this so sudden melancholy. In a trice the mystery was solved--Queen Victoria "was happily delivered of a Prince!" His Majesty was immediately assisted to his chamber--put to bed--the curtains drawn--all the royal household ordered to wear list slippers--the one knocker to the palace was carefully tied up--and (on the departure of our courier) half a load of straw was already deposited beneath the window of the royal chamber. The sentinels on duty were prohibited from even sneezing, under pain of death, and all things in and about the palace, to use a brand new simile, were silent as the grave!

"Whilst there was only the Princess Royal there were many hopes. There was hope from severe teething--hope from measles--hope from hooping-cough--but with the addition of a Prince of Wales, the hopes of Hanover are below par." But we pause. We will no further invade the sanctity of the sorrows of a king; merely observing, that what makes his Majesty very savage, makes hundreds of thousands of Englishmen mighty glad. There are now two cradles between the Crown of England and the White Horse of Hanover.

We have a Prince of Wales! Whilst, however, England is throwing up its million caps in rapture at the advent, let it not be forgotten to whom we owe the royal baby. In the clamorousness of our joy the fact would have escaped us, had we not received a letter from Colonel SIBTHORP, who assures us that we owe a Prince of Wales entirely to the present cabinet; had the Whigs remained in office, the infant would inevitably have been a girl.

7.--THE FIRST MENTION OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 1841.]

The first number of _Punch_ came out on the 17th July, 1841, at 13, Wellington Street, Strand. There was a good demand for it, two editions of five thousand copies each being sold in two days. This demand was caused by advertising in various ways, including the distribution of 100,000 copies of a printed prospectus that was nearly identical with the draft whose first page has been shown here.

TO MR. "PUNCH."

Onourd Sur,--This cums hopin youl xcuse the liberty I take in addresin yu, which ime shure you wont think anythink ov, wen I tell yu my objec, which is to make nown a very valubel speeches of hedukashun threw the medium of your valubel collums. I mean drawring bin klasses: i ave bin studdiing hunder Mistr Gander, and wot I rite for his to send yu a speciment of my drawring after receivin six lessons. Yu are at liberty to make any huse ov this that yu please, am yure obedent servant to command,

1 OF THE MILLION.

P.S.--i wouldn't mind 'a guiney a week' to make a few more drawrings ov the same karacter as wot I ave sent; or i dont mind havin a go at politix hif yu wood make it wurth mi wile.

8.--A SUPPOSITITIOUS OFFER TO "PUNCH." 1842.]

From the first Volume of _Punch_ I have chosen the five pictures here numbered 2, 3, 4, 6, and 7. No. 2 is the first picture in _Punch_, a distinction that gives importance to this little sketch [the same size as the original] of a broken-down man at work on the tread-mill. By the first picture, I mean the first that was printed on the numbered pages of _Punch_--this is on page 2 of Vol. I.--for the _Introduction_ contained three wood-cuts, and there was the outside wrapper--of which I shall speak later. But this little cut in No. 2 is really the first of Mr. Punch's famous gallery of black-and-white art. It was drawn by William Newman, and this is one of his so-called "blackies"--little _silhouettes_ that were paid for at the rate of eighteen shillings per dozen.

No. 3 is the first of Mr. Punch's long series of cartoons. This was done by A. S. Henning, and it makes a much nicer picture in its present reduced size than in its original large size, where the work is too coarse in texture. In the forties, there were no ingenious photographic processes for reproducing an artist's work to any scale; the work had to be cut on the wood-block and shown the same size as the original drawing. Hence, in a weekly paper such as _Punch_, there was often not much time to spend on the wood-engraving, and so many of the drawings, especially the early ones, are wanting in finish.

9.--THE FIRST PICTURE OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 1843.]

Picture No. 4 is the first by famous John Leech--Mr. Punch's first great artist--and in addition to the signature "John Leech" at the bottom of the block, there is in the middle of the design the curious sign-manual, a leech in a bottle, which John Leech often used to mark his work. This first design by Leech was in the fourth number of _Punch_, August 7, 1841, and its title "Foreign Affairs" has reference to the groups of foreign refugees who at that time were specially numerous in Soho and Leicester Square--places that even nowadays are characterized by the presence of numerous and not too desirable foreigners.

10.--A FANCIFUL DISCOVERY BY "PUNCH." 1843.]

The facsimile in No. 5 is from the commencement of Thackeray's first literary contribution to _Punch_, and the sketch which forms the initial letter T is also by Thackeray. Mr. Spielmann says this sketch is "undoubtedly" by Thackeray; the full contribution is on page 254 of Volume II.

The cartoon shown in No. 6 contains the first picture of Queen Victoria in _Punch_, and it represents Sir Robert Peel sent for by the Queen to form an Administration in place of the beaten Ministry of Lord Melbourne. This was in the autumn of 1841. The words, The Letter of Introduction, at the bottom of the cartoon, are the title of "a MS. drama, called the 'Court of Victoria,'" on page 90 of Volume I. of _Punch_, which commences:--

SCENE IN WINDSOR CASTLE.

[_Her Majesty discovered sitting thoughtfully at an escritoire._]

_Enter_ the Lord Chamberlain.

LORD CHAMBERLAIN: May it please your Majesty, a letter from the
Duke of Wellington.

THE QUEEN (_opens the letter_): Oh! a person for the vacant place
of Premier--show the bearer in, my lord. [_Exit Lord Chamberlain._]

THE QUEEN (_muses_): Sir Robert Peel--I have heard that name
before, as connected with my family. If I remember rightly he
held the situation of adviser to the Crown in the reign of Uncle
William, and was discharged for exacting a large discount on all
the State receipts; yet Wellington is very much interested in his
favour. Etc., etc., etc.

"Sisyphus is said to be doomed for ever to roll to the top of a great mountain a stone, which continually falls down again."

SISYPHUS SIR R. P--L. THE STONE D. O'C----L. THE FURIES LORD J. R----L, S----L, &c.

11.--RICHARD DOYLE'S FIRST CARTOON. 1844.]

In facsimile No. 7 we see the first mention in _Punch_ of the Prince of Wales. It is the first part of a full-page article on page 222 of Volume I., which records the birth of the Prince on November 9, 1841, and which also refers to the disappointment caused to the King of Hanover by the birth of the Queen's second child. _Punch_ writes: "There are now two cradles between the Crown of England and the White Horse of Hanover." How many British Royal "cradles" are there now between the two things named by _Punch_?

MASTER WELLINGTON. You're too good a judge to hit me, you are!

MASTER JOINVILLE. Am I?

MASTER WELLINGTON. Yes, you are.

MASTER JOINVILLE. Oh, am I!

MASTER WELLINGTON. Yes, you are.

MASTER JOINVILLE. Ha!

MASTER WELLINGTON. Ha!

[MORAL.--_And they don't fight after all._]

12.--A SUPPOSITITIOUS CONVERSATION BETWEEN THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON AND THE PRINCE DE JOINVILLE (OF THE FRENCH NAVY). 1844.]

This comical sketch in No. 8 was, I suspect, suggested to Mr. Punch by one of the many offers of unsolicited "outside" contributions which have always been severely discouraged. Mr. Punch prefers to rely upon his own staff, although he is always on the alert for fresh talent, and amongst the clever men who have thus been invited to contribute to _Punch_ are Mr. H. W. Lucy ("Toby, M.P."), Mr. R. C. Lehmann (who wrote "The Adventures of Picklock Holes"), Mr. Bernard Partridge (the brilliant successor to Mr. du Maurier), and Mr. Phil May.

We see in No. 9 the first _Punch_ picture of the Prince of Wales. This cartoon was drawn by Kenny Meadows. The Queen is standing at the left of the infant Prince, and points to the first tooth, the doctor blows a toy-trumpet and offers some soldiers, while the lady who kneels is offering a baby's coral with a _Punch's_ head as its chief attraction.

It will be in the recollection of our readers that a handsome rod (which turns out to be really a fishing-rod after all), was a little while ago presented to the Prince of WALES. His Royal Highness has lately had some capital sport with this rod, having succeeded in capturing several of his Mamma's gold fish, one of which was as big as a dace and weighed six ounces. It was very nearly pulling the Prince in.

13.--ANOTHER PICTURE OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 1844.]

No. 10 is a very clever sketch of "The Whistling Oyster." A full account of this supposititious discovery is given on page 142-3 of Volume V. of _Punch_, in the year 1843, and this curiosity was stated to be "in the possession of Mr. Pearkes of Vinegard Yard, opposite the gallery door of Drury Lane Theatre."

The cartoon in No. 11 is the first by another of Mr. Punch's great guns--the famous Richard Doyle. This appeared on March 16, 1844; and "The Modern Sisyphus" is Sir Robert Peel, then Premier, seen in the task of rolling up the great stone [Daniel O'Connell, the Irish orator, who was then agitating for the repeal of the union between Ireland and Great Britain], while Lord John Russell and others represent "The Furies" who are watching Peel's unavailing exertions. The sign-manual at the right of this cartoon--a dicky-bird perched on a D--was often used by Richard Doyle, and may be seen on the present wrapper of _Punch_. Although No. 11 is the first cartoon contributed by Doyle, it is not the first work he did for _Punch_, for Doyle commenced his association with the paper by drawing comic borders for the Christmas number of 1842.

GENTLEMAN.--Seed a little dog, ma'rm? no ma'rm. This here's the honly dog I've seed to-day, and he don't answer to the name of _Fido_.

14.--A PICTURE OF INNOCENCE. 1845.]

John Leech's cartoon, in No. 12, was published September 14, 1844; the Prince de Joinville was in command of the French Navy, and there was some foolish talk in the French papers about an invasion of England. The expression of the Duke of Wellington's face in this cartoon is simply perfect, as he stands with his hands in his pockets calmly looking at the threatening Joinville, and quietly says to the Frenchman, "You're too good a judge to hit me, you are!" One is irresistibly reminded by this clever cartoon of a quite recent affair with our French neighbour, in which the relative positions were not unlike those here shown, and to which the climax was [at any rate, up to date, November, 1898] the same as in Leech's cartoon--_And they don't fight after all!_

We are not among those who like going on with the March of Intellect at the old jog-trot pace, for we rather prefer running on before to loitering by the side, and we have consequently taken a few strides in advance with Geography, by furnishing a Map of England, as it will be in another year or two. Our country will, of course, never be in chains, for there would be such a general bubbling up of heart's blood, and such a bounding of British bosoms, as would effectually prevent that; but though England will never be in chains, she will pretty soon be in irons, as a glance at the numerous new Railway prospectuses will testify. It is boasted that the spread of Railways will shorten the time and labour of travelling; but we shall soon be unable to go anywhere without crossing the line.--which once used to be considered a very formidable undertaking. We can only say that we ought to be going on very smoothly, considering that our country is being regularly ironed from one end of it to the other.

15.--MR. PUNCH POKES FUN AT THE RAILWAY MANIA OF 1845.]

No. 13 is from page 157 of Volume VII., October 5, 1844. It represents the Prince of Wales, then not quite three years old, "capturing several of his Mamma's gold fish, one of which was as big as a dace, and weighed six ounces. It was very nearly pulling the Prince in."

In the "Innocence" picture, No. 14, observe that the little dog _Fido_, which is being sought by the lady, is just visible in the left coat-pocket of the Bill-Sikes-looking rough.

Young BEN he was a nice young man,
An author by his trade;
He fell in love with Polly-Ties
And was an M.P. made.

He was a Radical one day,
But met a Tory crew;
His Polly-Ties he cast away
And then turned Tory too.

Now BEN had tried for many a place
When Tories o'en were out:
But in two years the turning Whigs
Were turn'd to the right-about.

But when he called on ROBERT PEEL,
His talents to employ,
His answer was, "Young Englander,
For me you're not the boy."

Oh, ROBERT PEEL! Oh, ROBERT PEEL!
How could you serve me so!
I've met with Whig rebuffs before,
But not a Tory blow.

Then rising up in Parliament,
He made a fierce to do
With PEEL, who merely winked his eye,
BEN wink'd like winking too.

And then he tried the game again,
But couldn't, though he tried;
His party turn'd away from him,
Nor with him would divide.

Young England died when in its birth;
In forty-five it fell;
The papers told the public, but
None for it toll'd the bell.

16.--AN EARLY PICTURE OF LORD BEACONSFIELD, AS BENJAMIN DISRAELI, 1845.]

The Railway Map of England, No. 15, is one of Mr. Punch's prophecies that has become fact. It is in the issue of October 11, 1845, and refers to the precipitate influx of new lines just then taking place. To us, nowadays, there is nothing remarkable in this Railway Map, which might be mistaken for a genuine railway map of England and Wales; but in 1845, when this map was made by Mr. Punch, he no doubt intended it as a piece of satire.

17.--AT THE END OF 1845.]

_Piscator._ "Are there any Barbel about here, Gov'nor?"

_Host._ "Any Barbel about here!!--I should rayther think there was a few. Here's the picur o' wun my little boy ketched just hopposit."

18.--ONE OF MR. PUNCH'S FISHING TALES. 1845.]

19.--THE DOCTOR'S ASSISTANT. 1846.]

Our modern projectors having exhausted the old world of railways above ground, have invented a new world of a subterranean kind, in which they propose to construct lines "under the present wide, leading streets of London" This is a magnificent notion for relieving the over-crowded thoroughfares, and at the same time relieving any particularly over-crowded pocket from its oppressive burden. The prospectus states that the thing "can be accomplished without any serious engineering difficulties." The difficulties, instead of being serious, will, we suppose, be merely laughable. If any great dilemma should arise, it will of course be overcome by a little jocularity.

We understand that a survey has already been made, and that many of the inhabitants along the line have expressed their readiness to place their coal-cellars at the disposal of the company. It is believed that much expense may be saved by taking advantage of areas, kitchens, and coal-holes already made, through which the trains may run without much inconvenience to the owners, by making a judicious arrangement of the time-table. It will certainly be awkward if a family should be waiting for a scuttle of coals, and should not be able to get it until after the train had gone by; but a little domestic foresight, seconded by railway punctuality, will obviate all annoyances of this kind.

As the contemplated railway must in several places by carried through the sides and centre of a street, it will be necessary to arrange with the gas and water companies, so that they may all co-operate in this great national work. If the atmospheric principle should be adopted, arrangements could perhaps be entered into to obtain the use of the principal main belonging to the water-works as a continuous valve; for if we are to judge by the arrangements on the Croydon line, this continuous valve is a tremendous pipe, which merely lies in the middle of the line without being used.

The Sewers, by the way, would, with a little enlargement answer all the purposes of the projectors of this scheme. It is true they are half full of water; but this would not prevent the carriages from being propelled, and the wheels might be sufficiently high to keep the bodies of the carriages and the feet of the passengers out of the wet.

Considering the frequent stoppages of the existing thoroughfares, the scheme really seems to deserve encouragement. "Nothing is wanted" says the prospectus, "for this grand undertaking, but public support." If the people will only come down with their money, we should not wonder at seeing the company get as far as half-a-dozen advertisements in the daily papers, and a brass plate in the City. Those who are disposed to sink a little capital cannot do better than bury it under the Metropolis in the manner proposed.

We perceive that no amount of deposit is named, and nothing is said of the number or nominal value of the shares. The Secretary is announced to be in attendance to receive deposits from eleven to two: though, whether he gets any is, in our opinion, ten to one.

A PROPHETIC VIEW OF THE SUBTERRANEAN RAILWAYS.

20.--MR. PUNCH SCOFFS AT THE UNDERGROUND RAILWAY SCHEME. 1846.]

No. 16 introduces us to a very early _Punch_-picture of Benjamin Disraeli [June, 1845]; not the first, which was, Mr. Philip Agnew tells me, in the year 1844, but this is the more interesting picture of the two. Mr. Punch was sometimes very severe in his treatment of Disraeli, and this sketch with the accompanying verses is a good example of _Punch's_ early satire. As regards Mr. Punch's politics, it is interesting to quote the following words from "The History of _Punch_":--

"The Table" [_i.e._, the weekly _Punch_ dinner-table at which
the cartoons, etc., are discussed.--J. H. S.] has always shown
an amalgam of Conservative and Liberal instincts and leanings,
although the former have never been those of the "predominant
partner." The constant effort of the Staff is to be fair and
patriotic, and to subordinate their personal views to the general
good. For, whatever the public may think, neither Editor nor Staff
is bound by any consideration to any party or any person, but hold
themselves free to satirise or to approve "all round."

When No. 16 was published, Disraeli was the leader of the "Young England" party, having some years previously been converted from a Radical into a Tory: hence the allusions contained in the lines below this sketch.

_Juvenile._ "I TELL YOU WHAT IT IS, GOVERNOR, THE SOONER WE COME TO SOME UNDERSTANDING, THE BETTER. YOU CAN'T EXPECT A YOUNG FELLER TO BE ALWAYS AT HOME; AND IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE WAY I GO ON, WHY I MUST HATE CHAMBERS, AND SO MUCH A-WEEK!"

21.--ONE OF LEECH'S SKETCHES. 1847.]

22.--A JOKE DRAWN BY THACKERAY, THE POINT OF WHICH HAS NEVER BEEN DISCOVERED. 1847.]

In a later part of this article Mr. Punch's treatment of Disraeli's great rival Gladstone will be illustrated.

_Wife of your Bussum._ "OH! I DON'T WANT TO INTERRUPT YOU, DEAR. I ONLY WANT SOME MONEY FOR BABY'S SOCKS--AND TO KNOW WHETHER YOU WILL HAVE THE MUTTON COLD OR HASHED."

23.--A PICTURE OF DOMESTIC BLISS. 1847.]

24.--A SKETCH BY DOYLE. 1848.]

The vivid "Portrait of the Railway Panic," by Doyle, No. 17, was published November 8, 1845, and refers to the depression in railway-dividends then being caused by over-competition in railway-promotion; No. 20 also refers to the railway-schemes of that time, and is Mr. Punch's ironical notice [dated September 26, 1846] of "The Last New Railway Scheme," _i.e._, the proposal for making an Underground Railway, which, as we here read, was scoffed at by _Punch_--"The Secretary is announced to be in attendance to receive deposits from eleven to two; though, whether he gets any is, in our opinion, ten to one." But immediately below these words Mr. Punch gives a sectional diagram of the Underground Railway as he conceived it, and it is not a bad shot at "A prophetic view of the subterranean railways." As a matter of fact, the works for the now familiar Metropolitan (Underground) Railway were commenced in 1860; fourteen years after this ironical prophecy by _Punch_.

_Old Gentleman._ _Miss Wiggets._ _Two Authors._

_Old Gentleman._ "I AM SORRY TO SEE YOU OCCUPIED, MY DEAR MISS WIGGETS, WITH THAT TRIVIAL PAPER 'PUNCH.' A RAILWAY IS NOT A PLACE, IN MY OPINION, FOR JOKES. I NEVER JOKE--NEVER."

_Miss W._ "SO I SHOULD THINK, SIR."

_Old Gentleman._ "AND BESIDES, ARE YOU AWARE WHO ARE THE CONDUCTORS OF THAT PAPER, AND THAT THEY ARE CHARTISTS, DEISTS, ATHEISTS, ANARCHISTS, AND SOCIALISTS, TO A MAN? I HAVE IT FROM THE BEST AUTHORITY, THAT THEY MEET TOGETHER ONCE A WEEK IN A TAVERN IN SAINT GILES'S, WHERE THEY CONCOCT THEIR INFAMOUS PRINT. THE CHIEF PART OF THEIR INCOME IS DERIVED FROM THREATENING LETTERS WHICH THEY SEND TO THE NOBILITY AND GENTRY. THE PRINCIPAL WRITER IS A RETURNED CONVICT. TWO HAVE BEEN TRIED AT THE OLD BAILEY; AND THEIR ARTIST--AS FOR THEIR ARTIST...."

_Guard._ "SWIN-DUN! STA-TION!"

_Exeunt two Authors._

25.--DRAWN BY THACKERAY, AND CONTAINING AT THE LEFT PORTRAITS OF THACKERAY AND OF DOUGLAS JERROLD. 1848.]

No. 18 is one of John Leech's jokes on fishermen's tales, and No. 19 is another joke probably based on fact. The amusing picture, No. 21, illustrating "The Rising Generation," is also by John Leech.

No. 22 is a curiosity. It was drawn by Thackeray and published on page 59 of Volume XII., February 6, 1847. From that day to this more than fifty years, no one has discovered the point of this joke by Thackeray. "The History of _Punch_" records that on the appearance of this sketch the "Man in the Moon" offered "a reward of £500 and a free pardon" to anyone who would publish an explanation. The reward was never claimed.

What _does_ this sketch mean? Is the shorter female a servant caught in the act of trying on her mistress's best cap? But if so, why is the "scene" placed in a room that seems to be a library and not a bedroom? And is the object on, or near, the front of the taller woman's dress, the falling cap of the servant? But if so, how does the servant's cap come to be falling as the figures are placed--there is no sign on the part of the servant [?] that she has just dropped the cap [?] from her left hand? This is truly a puzzle and will probably never be solved, although when one remembers that this was drawn by Thackeray, and passed, as one may suppose, by Mark Lemon, the Editor of _Punch_ in the year 1847, both men of keen wit, it is scarcely possible to think that this joke does not contain any point.

A sketch of "Domestic Bliss" is shown in No. 23, and No. 24 is a picture by Richard Doyle of "Mr. John Bull after an attack of Income-Tax." This was published in the spring of 1848, and must I think have been the outcome of a then-recent smart from an ordinary income-tax payment by Mr. Punch, for on turning up the income-tax records I find that the rate was not unusually high in the year 1848, the tax being 7d. in the £ for the years 1846 to 1852.

26.--MORE DOMESTIC BLISS. 1848.]

No. 25 was drawn by Thackeray, in 1848 and the "Two Authors" at the left are portraits of Thackeray, who is reading the _Sunday Times_, and of Douglas Jerrold, who is leaning against the padded division of the railway compartment, while both authors are listening to the denunciations of themselves and of their fellow-Punchites which are being poured out by the reverend gentleman at the other end of the compartment.

27.--A STREET-ARAB OF 1849.]

Glancing at Nos. 26 and 27, we come to No. 28, which is one of Richard Doyle's very funny serial sketches, entitled "Manners and Customs of ye Englyshe." This is one of the funniest, although, where all are so good, it is difficult to single out any one of this remarkably clever series. Every bit of this sketch, No. 28, is worth looking at; the climbing positions of the deer-stalkers are most comical, and look at the two gillies holding back the dogs, and at the stag who is surveying the approaching attack. This was published September 22, 1849.

DEERE STALKYNGE IN YE HYGHLANDES

28.--BY RICHARD DOYLE. 1849.]

When No. 29 was published there were only eleven (half-yearly) volumes of _Punch_ available for use by the patient who is here seen consulting Dr. Punch. There are now available one hundred and fifteen of these volumes, and actual experience of Dr. Punch's advice to his patient enables me to thoroughly indorse the soundness of the advice given by the wise and genial old doctor of Fleet Street.

_John Bull._ "SUCH A TIGHTNESS IN MY CHEST."

_Mr. Punch._ "TIGHTNESS IN YOUR CHEST. OH! POOH, POOH! READ MY BOOK!"

29.--A PIECE OF GOOD ADVICE BY DR. PUNCH. 1847.]

(_To be continued._)

THE SPIDER of GUYANA

FROM THE FRENCH OF ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN.]

The mineral waters of Spinbronn, in Hundsruck, a few leagues from Pirmesans, formerly enjoyed an excellent reputation, for Spinbronn was the rendezvous of all the gouty and rheumatic members of the German aristocracy. The wild nature of the surrounding country did not deter the visitors, for they were lodged in charming villas at the foot of the mountain. They bathed in the cascade which fell in large sheets of foam from the summit of the rocks, and drank two or three pints of the water every day. Dr. Daniel Haselnoss, who prescribed for the sick and those who thought they were, received his patients in a large wig, brown coat, and ruffles, and was rapidly making his fortune.

To-day, however, Spinbronn is no longer a favourite watering-place. The fashionable visitors have disappeared; Dr. Haselnoss has given up his practice; and the town is only inhabited by a few poor, miserable woodcutters. All this is the result of a succession of strange and unprecedented catastrophes, which Councillor Bremen, of Pirmesans, recounted to me the other evening.

"You know, Mr. Fritz," he said, "that the source of the Spinbronn flows from a sort of cavern about 5ft. high, and from 10ft. to 15ft. across; the water, which has a temperature of 67deg. centigrade, is salt. The front of the cavern is half hidden by moss, ivy, and low shrubs, and it is impossible to find out the depth of it, because of the thermal exhalations which prevent any entrance.

"In spite of that, it had been remarked for a century that the birds of the locality, hawks, thrushes, and turtle-doves, were engulphed in full flight, and no one knew of what mysterious influence it was the result. During the season of 1801, for some unexplained reason, the source became more abundant, and the visitors one evening, taking their constitutional promenade on the lawns at the foot of the rocks, saw a human skeleton descend from the cascade.

"You can imagine the general alarm, Mr. Fritz. It was naturally supposed that a murder had been committed at Spinbronn some years before, and that the victim had been thrown into the source. But the skeleton, which was blanched as white as snow, only weighed twelve pounds; and Dr. Haselnoss concluded that, in all probability, it had been in the sand more than three centuries to have arrived at that state of desiccation.

"Plausible as his reasoning was, it did not prevent many visitors leaving that same day, horrified to have drunk the waters. The really gouty and rheumatic ones, however, stayed on, and consoled themselves with the doctor's version. But the following days the cavern disgorged all that it contained of detritus; and a veritable ossuary descended the mountain--skeletons of animals of all sorts, quadrupeds, birds, reptiles. In fact, all the most horrible things that could be imagined.

"Then Haselnoss wrote and published a pamphlet to prove that all these bones were relics of the antediluvian world, that they were fossil skeletons, accumulated there in a sort of funnel during the universal Deluge, that is to say, four thousand years before Christ; and, consequently, could only be regarded as stones, and not as anything repulsive.

"But his work had barely reassured the gouty ones, when one fine morning the corpse of a fox, and then of a hawk, with all its plumage, fell from the cascade. Impossible to maintain that these had existed before the Deluge, and the exodus became general.

"'How horrible!' cried the ladies. 'That is where the so-called virtue of mineral waters springs from. Better die of rheumatism than continue such a remedy.'

"At the end of a week the only visitor left was a stout Englishman, Commodore Sir Thomas Hawerbrook, who lived on a grand scale, as most Englishmen do. He was tall and very stout, and of a florid complexion. His hands were literally knotted with gout, and he would have drunk no matter what if he thought it would cure him. He laughed loudly at the desertion of the sufferers, installed himself in the best of the villas, and announced his intention of spending the winter at Spinbronn."

Here Councillor Bremen leisurely took a large pinch of snuff to refresh his memory, and with the tips of his fingers shook off the tiny particles which fell on his delicate lace jabot. Then he went on:--

"Five or six years before the revolution of 1789, a young doctor of Pirmesans, called Christian Weber, went to St. Domingo to seek his fortune. He had been very successful, and was about to retire, when the revolt of the negroes occurred. Happily he escaped the massacre, and was able to save part of his fortune. He travelled for a time in South America, and about the period of which I speak, returned to Pirmesans, and bought the house and what remained of the practice of Dr. Haselnoss.

"Dr. Christian Weber brought with him an old negress called Agatha; a very ugly old woman, with a flat nose, and enormous lips. She always enveloped her head in a sort of turban of the most startling colours; and wore rings in her ears which reached to her shoulders. Altogether she was such a singular-looking creature, that the mountaineers came from miles around just to look at her.

"The doctor himself was a tall, thin man, invariably dressed in a blue swallow-tailed coat and leather breeches. He talked very little, his laugh was dry and nervous, and his habits most eccentric. During his wanderings he had collected a number of insects of almost every species, and seemed to be much more interested in them than in his patients. In his daily rambles among the mountains he often found butterflies to add to his collection, and these he brought home pinned to the lining of his hat.

"Dr. Weber, Mr. Fritz, was my cousin and my guardian, and directly he returned to Germany he took me from school, and settled me with him at Spinbronn. Agatha was a great friend of mine, though at first she frightened me, but she was a good creature, knew how to make the most delicious sweets, and could sing the most charming songs.

"Sir Thomas and Dr. Weber were on friendly terms, and spent long hours together talking of subjects beyond my comprehension--of transmission of fluids, and mysterious things which they had observed in their travels. Another mystery to me was the singular influence which the doctor appeared to have over the negress, for though she was generally particularly lively, ready to be amused at the slightest thing, yet she trembled like a leaf if she encountered her master's eyes fixed upon her.

"I have told you that birds, and even large animals, were engulphed in the cavern. After the disappearance of the visitors, some of the old inhabitants remembered that about fifty years before a young girl, Loisa Muller, who lived with her grandmother in a cottage near the source, had suddenly disappeared. She had gone out one morning to gather herbs, and was never seen or heard of again, but her apron had been found a few days later near the mouth of the cavern. From that it was evident to all that the skeleton about which Dr. Haselnoss had written so eloquently was that of the poor girl, who had, no doubt, been drawn into the cavern by the mysterious influence which almost daily acted upon more feeble creatures. What that influence was nobody could tell. The superstitious mountaineers believed that the devil inhabited the cavern, and terror spread throughout the district.

"One afternoon, in the month of July, my cousin was occupied in classifying his insects and re-arranging them in their cases. He had found some curious ones the night before, at which he was highly delighted. I was helping by making a needle red-hot in the flame of a candle.

"Sir Thomas, lying back in a chair near the window and smoking a big cigar, was regarding us with a dreamy air. The commodore was very fond of me. He often took me driving with him, and used to like to hear me chatter in English. When the doctor had labelled all his butterflies, he opened the box of larger insects.

"'I caught a magnificent horn-beetle yesterday,' he said, 'the _lucanus cervus_ of the Hartz oaks. It is a rare kind.'

"As he spoke I gave him the hot needle, which he passed through the insect preparatory to fixing it on the cork. Sir Thomas, who had taken no notice till then, rose and came to the table on which the case of specimens stood. He looked at the spider of Guyana, and an expression of horror passed over his rubicund features.

"'There,' he said, 'is the most hideous work of the Creator. I tremble only to look at it.'

"And, sure enough, a sudden pallor spread over his face.

"'Bah!' said my guardian, 'all that is childish nonsense. You heard your nurse scream at a spider, you were frightened, and the impression has remained. But if you regard the creature with a strong microscope, you would be astonished at the delicacy of its organs, at their admirable arrangement, and even at their beauty.'

"'It disgusts me,' said the commodore, brusquely. 'Pouff!'

"And he walked away.

"'I don't know why,' he continued, 'but a spider always freezes my blood."

"Dr. Weber burst out laughing, but I felt the same as Sir Thomas, and sympathized with him.

"'Yes, cousin, take away that horrid creature,' I cried. 'It is frightful, and spoils all the others.'

"'Little stupid,' said he, while his eyes flashed, 'nobody compels you to look at them. If you are not pleased you can go.'

"Evidently he was angry, and Sir Thomas, who was standing by the window regarding the mountains, turned suddenly round, and took me by the hand.

"'Your guardian loves his spiders, Frantz,' he said, kindly. 'We prefer the trees and the grass. Come with me for a drive.'

"'Yes, go,' returned the doctor, 'and be back to dinner at six.' Then, raising his voice, 'No offence, Sir Thomas,' he said.

"Sir Thomas turned and laughed, and we went out to the carriage.

"The commodore decided to drive himself, and sent back his servant. He placed me on the seat beside him, and we started for Rothalps. While the carriage slowly mounted the sandy hill, I was quiet and sad. Sir Thomas, too, was grave, but my silence seemed to strike him.