Mr. Punch's History of Modern England (Vol. 1-4). Charles L. Graves
if no Marshal's bâton
Private Smith in his knapsack bears,
At least in the War, the chance of the star
With his General he shares.
The first distribution of the "V.C." by the Queen was not made until June 26, 1857, and in the same vein, but with greater dignity Punch strove to render justice to the occasion:—
THE STAR OF VALOUR
Distributed by the Queen's Own Hand. June 26, 1857.
The fount of Honour, sealed till now
To all save claims of rank and birth,
Makes green the laurel on the brow
Ennobled but by soldier's worth.
Of these the bravest and the best
Who 'scaped the chance of shot and sword,
England doth, by her Queen, invest
With Valour's Cross—their great reward!
Marking her sense of something still,
A central nobleness, that lies
Deeper than rank which royal will,
Or birth, or chance, or wealth supplies.
Knighthood that girds all valiant hearts,
Knighthood that crowns each fearless brow;
That knighthood this bronze cross imparts—
Let Fleece, and Bath, and Garter bow!
The plainness of the cross aroused critical comment, to which expression was lent in the epigram, which has not lost its point yet:—
Here's Valour's Cross, my men; 'twill serve,
Though rather ugly—take it,
John Bull a medal can deserve,
But can't contrive to make it.
The Victoria Cross
But the very simplicity of the bronze cross has lent it distinction. Punch was on safer ground when he urged that doctors and firemen were well qualified to receive it; the Albert Medal, in recognition of acts of gallantry in saving life performed by anyone whatever, was not instituted till 1866. Punch's democratic bias is also agreeably shown in his plea on behalf of the artisans and artificers employed at the dockyards and arsenals, whose labours shortened the war, but who were thrown out of work on its conclusion. In answer to their petition for help to emigrate, it was intimated to them that the Government would help them if they would help themselves. The delay of the Government in fulfilling their side of the bargain, when the men had complied with this condition, gives occasion for a piece of sarcastic criticism on State parsimony. And in this context we may note the charming poem on Mother Seacole, the brave old sutler in the Crimea, beloved of all soldiers, who had fallen on evil days, but was relieved by public subscription, largely due to the appeal in Punch's columns. Lastly, and to sum up this review, we may note the shrewd common sense of the timely article setting forth the pros and cons of Army Purchase, in which the writer emphasizes the need of a higher standard of brains and ability. Under the existing tradition, the abolition of purchase would probably mean promotion by influence—an equally vicious system. To alter the way of getting a commission was of no avail unless you altered the thing itself. Efficiency was not incompatible with purchase, but it was incompatible with "taking care of Dowb"—not the only reference in Punch to the historic telegram of Lord Panmure to Lord Raglan on behalf of his protégé and relative, Captain Dowbiggin.
10. Punch welcomed Tennyson's famous poem, which originally appeared in the Examiner, but could not agree with the view expressed in "Maud" that war is better than peace, though he held that it might be the only way—as at the moment—to secure it.
ENTR'ACTE
LONDON IN THE MID-NINETEENTH CENTURY
The survey of London, as set forth in the pages of Punch seventy and eighty years ago, undoubtedly ministers to our complacency. Much that was picturesque has vanished, but the improvements in the state of the streets, in lighting, communications, and, above all, sanitation, cannot be easily overstated. In the early 'forties three methods of paving the streets were employed: stones, Macadam, and wood; and according to Punch they were all bad. The stones caused jolting, Macadam was muddy, while wood pavement, which was only partially used in a few favoured localities—the Poultry and Lombard Street—was a constant source of danger by reason of its slipperiness. The spectacle, so familiar in recent years, of horses skating on all four feet down inclines is noticed in the year 1849. Hansom, the architect, had taken out the patent for his safety carriage in 1834, and that strange vehicle, which Disraeli celebrated as "the Gondola of London," and which is now relegated to the position of a curiosity or a relic, was fully established in a popularity which lasted for half a century or more. To those like the present writer who have been in a hansom when one wheel came off, or the horse's belly-band broke, or who have been propelled against the glass when the horse came down, the wonder is that it lasted so long. Yet, on a fine day, it was a pleasing, if precarious, vehicle, and inspired an exiled poet in the 'eighties to say that he would "give a monarch's ransom for a Piccadilly hansom." The old four-wheeler or "growler" still lingers and emerges during strikes of taxi-drivers, but Punch, though he found the cabman swathed in capes a fertile theme for his pencil, in general regarded him as a rapacious and extortionate old bandit, and his cab a squalid and insanitary means of transit. The one-day cab strike in 1853 grew out of the new Act fixing the fare at 6d. a mile. Under the new police regulations, whenever a dispute as to mileage occurred, both parties could deposit five shillings and have the matter decided by a magistrate. In one instance the cabman, not having five shillings, lost his case and was fined. A good deal of public sympathy, fostered by the Examiner, was enlisted on behalf of the cabman, but Punch was rigidly on the side of the public as against the proprietors of dirty cabs, miserable horses, and their abusive and rapacious drivers. The stringency of the regulations may be gathered from the lines on "A Civil Cabman's Sauce," based on a paragraph which appeared in The Times. A cabman had been sentenced by the Lord Mayor to twenty shillings or fourteen days for refusing to take a fare because he wanted his tea. The cabman had suggested that the fare might also require that refreshment. At this period, it may be also noted, cabmen were not allowed to smoke when on their stands. Towards its close an improvement in the cab service is acknowledged, but many years were to elapse before the institution of cab-shelters. As for the rapacity of cabmen, it was as water compared with wine when judged by the standard of taxi-drivers.
CABMAN IS SUPPOSED TO HAVE TAKEN THE WRONG TURNING—THAT'S ALL
Amy (to Rose): "Good gracious, Rose, I'm afraid from the way the man talks that he is intoxicated!"
Cabby (impressively): "Beg pardon, Miss! N-n-not (hic) intossi—intossi-cated (hic)—itsh only shlight 'ped-ped-pediment in speesh, Miss!"
The Ancient Omnibus
Turning next to the 'buses, some of us are old enough to remember their dim interiors, the smell of damp, sodden straw on the floors, and the perilous ascent to the roof by what was little better than a rope ladder. Still, we own to a sneaking regret for the old 'bus driver; to sit next him on the box-seat was a liberal education in the repartee of the road. The "knife-board," as the low partition against which outside passengers sat back to back was called, does not appear until after 1852. The slow speed of