Original Penny Readings: A Series of Short Sketches

Who has not admired the mounted policeman? But is it not taking him at a disadvantage, and seeing him suffering under untoward circumstances over which he has no control, not even being able to control his horse? But he was never meant to be upon a horse. What is he there for? And of what use can he be? He looks most thoroughly out of place, and, to do him justice, quite ashamed of himself. Like the soldier of the ballad, he presents himself in public “with a helmet on his brow, and a sabre at his thigh;” but, sinking the helmet, what does he want with a sword – a policeman with a sword? But we are not sure that it is a sword. May it not be a Quaker or theatrical representation of the military sabre? We never knew any one yet who had seen it out of its sheath, or who had been blinded by its flash, so that after all it may be but a sham. If one takes a trip across the channel, emulating the daring of a Josef Sprouts, and then making the best of one’s way to “Paris in France,” there is no surprise felt at the sight of cocked hats, cocked – very fiercely cocked – moustachios, and swords belted upon gendarme or sergent de ville. The sword there seems appropriate – suited to the national character – the staff for thick-headed boss-frontal Bull, and the skewer or spit for the Gallic frog or cock. If John Bull, as a mob, gets excited, the powers that be consider him to be all the better for a little hammering about the head, while prick of sword or cut of sabre would goad him to madness. In La France, au contraire, blows cause the madness. Jean or Pierre, if “nobbled” upon the sconce, would rave about the affront put upon his honour. Men ready to cry Mourir pour la Patrie, can pocket no blows. Here, then, is shown the wisdom of supplying the French man of order with a sword; a cut or thrust acts not as a goad, but surgically, for it lets out the mad revolutionary blood, and Jean or Pierre goes home the better for his lancing.