Mr. Punch's History of Modern England (Vol. 1-4). Charles L. Graves
fever's thirst allayed, and the bed you've tumbled made,
With a careful and considerate attention.
Singing succour to the brave, and a rescue from the grave,
Hear the Nightingale that's come to the Crimea,
'Tis a Nightingale as strong in her heart as in her song,
To carry out so gallant an idea.
This is only one of a whole series of poems—notably one written at the time of her dangerous illness in May, 1855—inspired by the "Lady of the Lamp," who did not forget, on her side, to acknowledge that the wounded common soldiers had behaved "like gentlemen and Christians to their nurses." Her saintship is secure, in spite of the adroit disparagement of modern iconoclasts; and the verdict of the common soldier was happily expressed by a private at a dinner given to Crimean troops by the people of Folkestone and Hythe in 1856: "We cannot forget Miss Nightingale—nor can we forget mismanagement."
"Well, Jack, here's good news from home. We're to have a medal."
"That's very kind. Maybe one of these days we'll have a coat to stick it on."
Familiar Grievances
Florence Nightingale was not forgotten by the nation; the Queen sent her an autograph letter of thanks and a brooch, but no official recognition was bestowed upon her by the British Government until 1907, when she was given the Order of Merit. As for William Russell, Punch laboured in season and out of season to secure some public acknowledgment of his humanity and courage, but the debt remained unpaid for forty years, and was then liquidated by a mere knighthood. The Crimean War was not a great war, judged by modern standards, but it assuredly was not a picnic, and it abounded in prospective plagiarism. Note, for example, the complaint of the treatment of the "Jolly Russian prisoners," in the winter of 1854:—
How jolly the prisoner, who gets for his pay,
From his captor's own purse seven shillings a day!
And that's how we pension our officer-foes,
For which we shall certainly pay through the nose.
The nation that prisoners so handsomely pays
The wages of postmen will probably raise,
And doubtless provide on a grand scale for all
The children and wives of our soldiers who fall.
Note again the criticisms of official reticence about individual acts of bravery in the lines "The Unmentioned Brave: Song by a Commanding Officer," early in 1855:—
Oh! no, we never mention them,
Their names must not be heard,
My hand Routine forbids to trace
Of their exploits one word.
Most glorious though their deeds may be,
To say it I regret,
When they expect a word from me,
They find that I forget.
You say that they are happy now,
The bravest of the brave,
A "special" pen recording how
Mere Grenadiers behave.
Of "special" pens I disapprove,
An inconvenient set,
Who oftentimes the veil remove,
And print what we forget.
The charges of incompetence in the conduct of the war and of greed among those who made profit out of it have a painfully familiar ring. Generals, beginning with Lord Hardinge, were too old; or they were "blundering cavalrymen." Heroism was kept severely in its place or inadequately rewarded, as when a drummer-boy, who had shown conspicuous gallantry at the battle of the Alma, was given £5 by the Prince Consort; or, again, when a gallant sergeant was given a silk handkerchief hemmed by the Queen. Why, asks Punch, was he not made an ensign? Of a review of wounded soldiers by the Queen he observes that it would have been more gracious if she had gone to the hospital instead of having the invalids brought up to the palace to be inspected. In the same vein is the dialogue, "Honour to the Brave":—
Flunkey (reads): "Yesterday thirty of the Invalids from the Crimea were inspected … many of the gallant fellows were dreadfully mutilated at the Alma and Inkerman. … After the inspection ten of the Guards were regaled in the Servants' Hall."
Flunkey (loq.): "Regaled in the Servants' 'All! Eh? Well, I don't think they've any call to grumble about not bein' 'Honoured Sufficient!'"
A DISTRESSED AGRICULTURIST
Landlord: "Well, Mr. Springwheat, according to the papers, there seems to be a probability of a cessation of hostilities."
Tenant (who strongly approves of war prices): "Goodness gracious! Why, you don't mean to say there's any DANGER OF PEACE?"
The navvies who volunteered for service in the Crimea are not forgotten by Punch. When cheers are raised for the fighting men and their commanders,
As loud a cheer give, England, to the Navvies' gallant band,
Who have gone to lend our warriors a stalwart helping hand.
These to their work with shovel and crowbar as true will stand
As those to theirs with bayonet, with rifle and with brand.
Combatants and Non-Combatants
The Charge of the Light Brigade10 prompts Leech's picture of "A Trump Card(igan)"; but, rather than with the officers, Punch, throughout the war, was more concerned with the rank and file, and with instances of unfair differentiation between officers and men, notably in regard to the sale of promotions and the grants of leave, satirized in the cartoon, "The New Game of Follow my Leader," in which a very diminutive bugler, advancing in front of a long file of soldiers, addresses the commander-in-chief: "Please, General, may me and these other chaps have leave to go home on urgent Private affairs?"
The efforts of the Peace Party are a constant source of derisive criticism, as in the bitter stanzas, "Mr. Gladstone's Peace Song." Even more bitter is the onslaught in the year 1856 on John Bright:—
Merrily danced the Quaker Bright,
And merrily danced that Quaker,
When he heard that Kars was in hopeless plight,
And Mouravieff meant to take her.
He said he knew it was wrong to fight,
He'd help nor Devil nor Baker,
But to see that the battle was going right,
O! merrily danced the Quaker.
THE BRITISH LION SMELLS A RAT
Paying the Bill
The article in which we read that "Wholesale slaughter and devastation, when you are driven to it, is the only economy of slaughter and devastation," is a definitely frank espousal of the doctrine of "frightfulness." Cobden and Bright, "our calico friends," are mercilessly assailed in every number; Cobden in particular for his pamphlet, "What next, and next?" and for his servility to America. Peace came at the end of March, 1856, with its aftermath of criticism, dissatisfaction, discontent with the Peace terms, and fierce comments on generals