. Abraham Lincoln and the London Punch; cartoons, comments and poems, published in the London charivari, during the American Civil War (1861-1865) . ece, entitled Habet! It represents thecombatants as gladiators before the enthroned andimperial negroes (Ave Caesar!). But in sentiment at least a nobler was to come,the affecting picture of Britannias tribute andPunchs amende, called simply Abraham Lin-coln, foully assassinated April 14, 1865. The accompanying verses, by Tom Taylor, not,as has sometimes been asserted, by ShirleyBrooks, were a complete recantation for formermisunderstanding and wr
. Abraham Lincoln and the London Punch; cartoons, comments and poems, published in the London charivari, during the American Civil War (1861-1865) . ece, entitled Habet! It represents thecombatants as gladiators before the enthroned andimperial negroes (Ave Caesar!). But in sentiment at least a nobler was to come,the affecting picture of Britannias tribute andPunchs amende, called simply Abraham Lin-coln, foully assassinated April 14, 1865. The accompanying verses, by Tom Taylor, not,as has sometimes been asserted, by ShirleyBrooks, were a complete recantation for formermisunderstanding and wrongdoing. They willbear quoting again:—- ABRAHAM LINCOLN Foully Assassinated April, 14, 1865 You lay a wreath on murdered Lincolns bier,You, who with mocking pencil wont to trace Broad for the self-complacent British sneer His length of shambling limb, his furrowed face, His gaunt, gnarled hands, his unkempt, bristling hair, His garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease;His lack of all we prize as debonair, Of power or will to shine, of art to please. THE LONDON PUNCH 99 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—August 27, 1864. AMERICA ANOTHER FEDERAL. VERY PROBABLE. Lord Puxch. THAT WAS JEFF DAVIS, PAM! DONT YOU RECOGNISE HIM t Lord Pah. HM! WELL, NOT EXACTLY MAY HAVE TO DO SO SOME OF THESE DAYS. 100 ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND You, whose smart pen backed up the pencils laugh,Judging each step, as though the way were plain; Reckless, so it could point its paragraphOf chiefs perplexity or peoples pain. Beside this corps, that beats for winding sheetThe Stars and Stripes he lived to rear anew, Between the mourners at his head and feet,Say, scurril-jester, is there room for you ? Yes, he had lived to shame me from my sneer,To lame my pencil, and confute my pen— To make me own this hind of princes peer,This rail-splitter a true-born king of men. My shallow judgment I had learnt to rue, Noting how to occasions height he rose,How his quaint wit made home-truth seem more true, How, iron-like, his t
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