File:Abraham Lincoln and the London Punch; cartoons, comments and poems, published in the London charivari, during the American Civil War (1861-1865) (1909) (14760414434).jpg

Identifier: abrahamlincolnlo02wals (find matches)
Title: Abraham Lincoln and the London Punch; cartoons, comments and poems, published in the London charivari, during the American Civil War (1861-1865)
Year: 1909 (1900s)
Authors: Walsh, William Shepard, 1854-1919, ed
Subjects: Lincoln, Abraham, 1809-1865 Lincoln, Abraham, 1809-1865
Publisher: New York, Moffat, Yard and Company
Contributing Library: Lincoln Financial Foundation Collection
Digitizing Sponsor: State of Indiana through the Indiana State Library

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pre-sentment of the President of the United States. In this first picture Lincoln is represented aspoking the fire and filling the room with par-ticles of soot, saying with downcast look: What a nice White House it would be, if itwere not for the blacks. Nevertheless, the poem with which Punchgreeted the news of the fall of Fort Sumter was notcalculated to arouse kindly sentiments in theNorth. INK, BLOOD AND TEARS (THE TAKING OF FORT SUMTER.) A Forty hours bombardment! Great guns throwingTheir iron hail: shells their mad mines exploding: Furnaces lighted: shot at red-heat glowing: Shore-battries and fort-armament, firing, loading— Wars visible hell let loose for forty hours, And all her devils free to use their powers— And yet not one man hit, her flag when Sumter lowers. Oil, heres a theme! quoth Punch, of brag abhorrent,Twixt promise and performance rare proportion! This show-cloth, of live lions, giving warrant.Masking some mangy, stunted, stuffed abortion: THE LONDON TUNCH 29
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30 ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND These gorgeous covers hiding empty dishes,These whale-like antics among little fishes—Here is the very stuff to meet my dearest wishes. What ringing of each change on brag and bluster! These figures huge of speech, summed in a zero:This war-march, ushering in Bombastes muster: This entry of Tom Thumb, armed like a hero.Of all great cries eer raised oer little wool,Of all big bubbles by fools breath filled full.Sure heres the greatest yet, and emptiest, for John Bull John always thought Jonathan, his young brother, A little of a bully; said he swaggered:But in all change of chaff with one another, Nor John nor Jonathan was eer called laggard.But now, if John maynt Jonathan style coward,He may hint Stripes and Stars were better loweredFrom that tall height to which, till now, their flag-stafftowered, Punch nibbed his pen, all jubilant, for galling— When suddenly a weight weighed down the feather, And a red liquid, drop by drop, slow falling, Came from the nib;

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