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diff --git a/14926-h/14926-h.htm b/14926-h/14926-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..23a1cca --- /dev/null +++ b/14926-h/14926-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2547 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Mac OS X (vers 1st August 2004), see www.w3.org" /> +<meta http-equiv="content-type" content= +"text/html; charset=us-ascii" /> +<title>Punch, or the London Charivari. September 5, 1841.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ + +<!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 15%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + ul {list-style-type:none;} + .note {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left:4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left:5em;} + p.cen {text-align:center;} + p.rgt {text-align:right;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} +.figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img {border: none;} +.figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} +.figcenter>p {text-align:center;} +.figcenter {margin: auto;} +.figright {float: right; width:25%;} +.figleft, .dropcap {float: left;width:25%;} + span.sidenote {position: absolute; right: 1%; left: 87%; font-size: .7em;text-align:left;text-indent:0em;} + sup{font-size:.7em;} + span.sc {font-variant:small-caps;} + span.emph {font-size:125%;font-weight:bolder;} + a:link{text-decoration:none;} +.hide {display: none;} + --> +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 1, +September 5, 1841, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 1, September 5, 1841 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 7, 2005 [EBook #14926] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Syamanta Saikia, Jon Ingram, Barbara Tozier and the PG +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> +<h2>VOL. 1.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page85" name="page85"></a>[pg +85]</span> +<h2>SEPTEMBER 5, 1841.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE GENTLEMAN’S OWN BOOK.</h2> +<div class="dropcap"><a href="images/008-01.png"><img src= +"images/008-01.png" alt= +"A man on a horse charges through a laurel wreath in the shape of an O" +id="img008-01" name="img008-01" width="100%" /></a></div> +<p><span class="hide">O</span>ur consideration must now be given to +those essentials in the construction of a true gentleman—the +cut, ornaments, and pathology of his dress.</p> +<h4>THE CUT</h4> +<p>is to the garment what the royal head and arms are to the +coin—the insignia that give it currency. No matter what the +material, gold or copper, Saxony or sackcloth, the die imparts a +value to the one, and the shears to the other.</p> +<p>Ancient Greece still lives in its marble demi-gods; the +vivifying chisel of Phidias was thought worthy to typify the +sublimity of Jupiter; the master-hand of Canova wrought the Parian +block into the semblance of the sea-born goddess, giving to +insensate stone the warmth and etheriality of the Paphian paragon; +and Stultz, with his grace-bestowing shears, has fashioned West of +England broad-cloths, and fancy goods, into all the nobility and +gentility of the “Blue Book,” the “Court +Guide,” the “Army, Navy, and Law Lists, for +1841.”</p> +<p>Wondrous and kindred arts! The sculptor wrests the rugged block +from the rocky ribs of his mother earth;—the tailor clips the +implicated “<em>long hogs</em>”<sup>1</sup><span class= +"sidenote">1. The first growth of wool.</span> from the prolific +backs of the living mutton;—the toothless saw, plied by an +unweayring hand, prepares the stubborn mass for the chisel’s +tracery;—the loom, animated by steam (that gigantic child of +Wallsend and water), twists and twines the unctuous and pliant +fleece into the silky Saxony.</p> +<p>The sculptor, seated in his <em>studio</em>, throws loose the +reins of his imagination, and, conjuring up some perfect ideality, +seeks to impress the beautiful illusion on the rude and undigested +mass before him. The tailor spreads out, upon his ample board, the +happy broadcloth; his eyes scan the “measured proportions of +his client,” and, with mystic power, guides the obedient +pipe-clay into the graceful diagram of a perfect gentleman. The +sculptor, with all the patient perseverance of genius, conscious of +the greatness of its object, chips, and chips, and chips, from day +to day; and as the stone quickens at each touch, he glows with all +the pride of the creative Prometheus, mingled with the gentler +ecstacies of paternal love. The tailor, with fresh-ground shears, +and perfect faith in the gentility and solvency of his +“client,” snips, and snips, and snips, until the +“superfine” grows, with each abscission, into the first +style of elegance and fashion, and the excited schneider feels +himself “every inch a king,” his shop a herald’s +college, and every brown paper pattern garnishing its walls, an +escutcheon of gentility.</p> +<p>But to dismount from our Pegasus, or, in other words, to cut the +poetry, and come to the practice of our subject, it is necessary +that a perfect gentleman should be cut <em>up</em> very high, or +cut <em>down</em> very low—<em>i.e.</em>, up to the marquis +or down to the jarvey. Any intermediate style is perfectly +inadmissible; for who above the grade of an attorney would wear a +coat with pockets inserted in the tails, like salt-boxes; or any +but an incipient Esculapius indulge in trousers that evinced a +morbid ambition to become knee-breeches, and were only restrained +in their aspirations by a pair of most strenuous straps. We will +now proceed to details.</p> +<p><em>The dressing-gown</em> should be cut only—for the arm +holes; but be careful that the quantity of material be very +ample—say four times as much as is positively necessary, for +nothing is so characteristic of a perfect gentleman as his +improvidence. This garment must be constructed without buttons or +button-holes, and confined at the waist with cable-like bell-ropes +and tassels. This elegant <em>déshabille</em> had its origin +(like the Corinthian capital from the Acanthus) in accident. A set +of massive window-curtains having been carelessly thrown over a lay +figure, or tailor’s <em>torso</em>, in Nugee’s +<em>studio</em>, in St. James’s-street, suggested to the +luxuriant mind of the Adonisian D’Orsay, this beautiful +combination of costume and upholstery. The eighteen-shilling chintz +great-coats, so ostentatiously put forward by nefarious tradesmen +as dressing-gowns, and which resemble pattern-cards of the +vegetable kingdom, are unworthy the notice of all +gentlemen—of course excepting those who are so by act of +Parliament. Although it is generally imagined that the coat is the +principal article of dress, <em>we</em> attach far greater +importance to the trousers, the cut of which should, in the first +place, be regulated by nature’s cut of the leg. A gentleman +who labours under either a convex or a concave leg, cannot be too +particular in the arrangement of the strap-draught. By this we mean +that a concave leg must have the pull on the convex side, and +<em>vice versa</em>, the garment being made full, the effects of +bad nursing are, by these means, effectually +“repealed.”<sup>2</sup><span class="sidenote">2. +Baylis.</span> This will be better understood if the reader will +describe a parallelogram, and draw therein the arc of a circle +equal to that described by his leg, whether knock-kneed or +bandy.</p> +<p>If the leg be perfectly straight, then the principal peculiarity +of cut to be attended to, is the external assurance that the +trousers cannot be removed from the body without the assistance of +a valet.</p> +<p>The other considerations should be their applicability to the +promenade or the equestriade. We are indebted to our friend Beau +Reynolds for this original idea and it is upon the plan formerly +adopted by him that we now proceed to advise as to the maintenance +of the distinctions.</p> +<p>Let your schneider baste the trousers together, and when you +have put them on, let them be braced to their natural tension; the +schneider should then, with a small pair of scissors, <em>cut +out</em> all the wrinkles which offend the eye. The garment, being +removed from your person, is again taken to the tailor’s +laboratory, and the embrasures carefully and artistically +fine-drawn. The process for walking or riding trousers only varies +in these particulars—for the one you should stand upright, +for the other you should straddle the back of a chair. Trousers cut +on these principles entail only two inconveniences, to which every +one with the true feelings of a gentleman would willingly submit. +You must never attempt to sit down in your walking trousers, or +venture to assume an upright position in your equestrians, for +compound fractures in the region of the <em>os sacrum</em>, or +dislocations about the <em>genu patellæ</em> are certain to +be the results of such rashness, and then</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/008-02.png"><img src= +"images/008-02.png" alt= +"A valet shakes a brush at a gentlemen cuddling a housemaid." id= +"img008-02" name="img008-02" width="60%" /></a> +<p>“THE PEACE OF THE VALET IS FLED.”</p> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>SONGS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL. — NO. 6.</h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thou hast humbled the proud,</p> +<p>For my spirit hath bow’d</p> +<p>More humbly to thee than it e’er bow’d before;</p> +<p class="i4">But thy pow’r is past,</p> +<p class="i4">Thou hast triumph’d thy last,</p> +<p>And the heart you enslaved beats in freedom once more!</p> +<p class="i4">I have treasured the flow’r</p> +<p class="i4">You wore but an hour,</p> +<p>And knelt by the mound where together we’ve sat;</p> +<p class="i4">But thy-folly and pride</p> +<p class="i4">I now only deride—</p> +<p>So, fair Isabel, take your change out of that!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>That I loved, and how well,</p> +<p>It were madness to tell</p> +<p>To one who hath mock’d at my madd’ning despair.</p> +<p class="i4">Like the white wreath of snow</p> +<p class="i4">On the Alps’ rugged brow,</p> +<p>Isabel, I have proved thee as cold as thou’rt fair!</p> +<p class="i4">’Twas thy boast that I sued,</p> +<p class="i4">That you scorn’d as I woo’d—</p> +<p>Though thou of my hopes were the Mount Ararat;</p> +<p class="i4">But to-morrow I wed</p> +<p class="i4">Araminta instead—</p> +<p>So, fair Isabel, take your change out of that!</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE LAST HAUL.</h3> +<p>The ponds in St. James’s Park were on last Monday drawn +with nets, and a large quantity of the fish preserved there carried +away by direction of the Chief Commissioner of Woods and Forests. +Our talented correspondent, Ben D’Israeli, sends us the +following squib on the circumstance:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Oh! never more,” Duncannon cried,</p> +<p class="i2">“The spoils of place shall fill our dishes!</p> +<p>But though we’ve lost the <em>loaves</em> we’ll +take</p> +<p class="i2">Our last sad haul amongst the +<em>fishes</em>.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>GENERAL SATISFACTION.</h3> +<p>Lord Coventry declared emphatically that the sons, the fathers, +and the grandfathers were all satisfied with the present corn laws. +Had his lordship thought of the <em>Herald</em>, he might have +added, “and the grandmothers also.”</p> +<hr /> +<h3>ADVERTISEMENT.</h3> +<p>If the enthusiastic individual who distinguished himself on the +O.P. side of third row in the pit of “the late Theatre Royal +English Opera House,” but now the refuge for the +self-baptised “Council of Dramatic Literature,” can be +warranted sober, and guaranteed an umbrella, in the use of which he +is decidedly unrivalled, he is requested to apply to the Committee +of management, where he will hear of something to his +“advantage.”</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page86" name="page86"></a>[pg +86]</span> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/008-03.png"><img src= +"images/008-03.png" alt="A man looks in a pond and sees Shakspere" +id="img008-03" name="img008-03" width="100%" /></a></div> +<h2>“PUNCH’S” LITERATURE.</h2> +<ol type="I"> +<li>“The Hungarian Daughter,” a Dramatic Poem, by +George Stephens, 8vo., pp. 294. London: 1841.</li> +<li>“Introductory(!) Preface to the above,” pp. +25.</li> +<li>“Supplement to the above;” consisting of +“Opinions of the Press,” on various Works by George +Stephens, 8vo., pp. 8.</li> +<li>“Opinions of the Press upon the ‘Dramatic +Merits’ and ‘Actable Qualities’ of the Hungarian +Daughter,” 8vo., <em>closely printed</em>, pp. 16.</li> +</ol> +<p>The blind and vulgar prejudice in favour of Shakspeare, +Massinger, and the elder dramatic poets—the sickening +adulation bestowed upon Sheridan Knowles and Talfourd, among the +moderns—and the base, malignant, and selfish partiality of +theatrical managers, who insist upon performing those plays only +which are adapted to the stage—whose grovelling souls have no +sympathy with genius—whose ideas are fixed upon gain, have +hitherto smothered those blazing illuminati, George Stephens and +his syn—Syncretcis; have hindered their literary effulgence +from breaking through the mists hung before the eyes of the public, +by a weak, infatuated adherence to paltry Nature, and a silly +infatuation in favour of those who copy her.</p> +<p>At length, however, the public blushes (through its +representative, the provincial press, and the above-named critical +puffs,) with shame—the managers are fast going mad with +bitter vexation, for having, to use the words of that elegant +pleonasm, the <em>introductory</em> preface, “by a sort of +<em>ex officio</em> hallucination,” rejected this and some +twenty other exquisite, though unactable dramas! It is a fact, that +since the opening of the English Opera House, Mr. Webster has been +confined to his room; Macready has suspended every engagement for +Drury-lane; and the managers of Covent Garden have gone the +atrocious length of engaging sibilants and ammunition from the +neighbouring market, to pelt the Syncretics off the stage! Them we +leave to their dirty work and their repentance, while we proceed to +<em>our</em> “delightful task.”</p> +<p>To prove that the “mantle of the Elizabethan poets seems +to have fallen upon Mr. Stephens” (<em>Opinions</em>, p. 11), +that the “Hungarian Daughter” is quite as good as +Knowles’s best plays (<em>Id.</em> p. 4, <em>in two +places</em>), that “it is equal to Goethe” +(<em>Id.</em> p. 11), that “in after years the name of Mr. S. +will be amongst those which have given light and glory to their +country” (<em>Id.</em> p. 10); to prove, in short, the truth +of a hundred other laudations collected and printed by this modest +author, we shall quote a few passages from his play, and illustrate +his genius by pointing out their beauties—an office much +needed, particularly by certain dullards, the magazine of whose +souls are not combustible enough to take fire at the electric +sparks shot forth <em>up</em> out of the depths of George +Stephens’s unfathomable genius!</p> +<p>The first gem that sparkles in the play, is where +<em>Isabella</em>, the Queen Dowager of Hungary, with a degree of +delicacy highly becoming a matron, makes desperate love to +<em>Castaldo</em>, an Austrian ambassador. In the midst of her +ravings she breaks off, to give such a description of a +steeple-chase as Nimrod has never equalled.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">ISABELLA (<em>hotly</em>). “Love <em>rides</em> +upon a thought,</p> +<p>And stays not dully to <em>inquire the way</em>,</p> +<p>But right <em>o’erleaps the fence</em> unto the +<em>goal</em>.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>To appreciate the splendour of this image, the reader must +conceive Love booted and spurred, mounted upon a <em>thought</em>, +saddled and bridled. He starts. <em>Yo-hoiks</em>! what a pace! He +stops not to “inquire the way”—whether he is to +take the first turning to the right, or the second to the +left—but on, on he rushes, clears the fence cleverly, and +wins by a dozen lengths!</p> +<p>What soul, what mastery, what poetical skill is here! We +triumphantly put forth this passage as an instance of the sublime +art of sinking in poetry not to be matched by Dibdin Pitt or Jacob +Jones. Love is sublimed to a jockey, Thought promoted to a +race-horse!—“Magnificent!”</p> +<p>But splendid as this is, Mr. Stephens can make the force of +bathos go a little further. The passage continues (“<em>a +pause</em>” intervening, to allow breathing ime, after the +splitting pace with which Love has been riding upon Thought) +thus:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Are your lips free? A smile will make no noise.</p> +<p>What ignorance! So! Well! <em>I’ll to breakfast +straight</em>!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Again:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">ISABELLA. “Ha! ha! These forms are +air—mere counterfeits</p> +<p>Of my <em>imaginous</em> heart, <em>as are the whirling</em></p> +<p><em>Wainscot and trembling floor</em>!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The idea of transferring the seat of imagination from the head +to the heart, and causing it to exhibit the wainscot in a +pirouette, and the floor in an ague, is highly +<em>Shakesperesque</em>, and, as the <em>Courier</em> is made to +say at page 3 of the <em>Opinions</em>, “is worthy of the +best days of that noble school of dramatic literature in which Mr. +Stephens has so successfully studied.”</p> +<p>This well-deserved praise—the success with which the +author has studied, in a school, the models of which were human +feelings and nature,—we have yet to illustrate from other +passages. Mr. Stephens evinces his full acquaintance with Nature by +a familiarity with her convulsions: whirlwinds, thunder, lightning, +earthquakes, and volcanoes—are this gentleman’s +playthings. When, for instance, <em>Rupert</em> is going to be +gallant to Queen Isabella, she exclaims:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Dire lightnings! Scoundrel! Help!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p><em>Martinuzzi</em> conveys a wish for his nobles to +laugh—an order for a sort of court cachinnation—in +these pretty terms:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“<em>Blow it about</em>, ye opposite winds of heaven,</p> +<p>Till the loud chorus of derision shake</p> +<p>The world with laughter!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>When he feels uncomfortable at something he is told in the first +act, the Cardinal complains thus:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Ha! earthquakes quiver in my flesh!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>which the <em>Britannia</em> is so good as to tell us is +superior to Byron; while the <em>Morning Herald</em> kindly +remarks, that “a more vigorous and expressive line was +<em>never</em> penned. In five words it illustrates the fiercest +passions of humanity by the direst convulsion of nature:” +(<em>Opinions</em>, p. 7) a criticism which illustrates the +fiercest throes of nonsense, by the direst convulsions of +ignorance.</p> +<p><em>Castaldo</em>, being anxious to murder the Cardinal with, we +suppose, all “means and appliances to boot,” asks of +heaven a trifling favour:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Heaven, that look’st on,</p> +<p>Rain thy broad deluge first! All-teeming earth</p> +<p>Disgorge thy poisons, till the attainted air</p> +<p>Offend the sense! Thou, miscreative hell,</p> +<p>Let loose calamity!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>But it is not only in the “sublime and beautiful that Mr. +Stephens’s genius delights” (<em>vide Opinions</em>, p. +4); his play exhibits sentiments of high morality, quite worthy of +the “Editor of the Church of England Quarterly Review,” +the author of “Lay Sermons,” and other religious works. +For example: the lady-killer, <em>Castaldo</em>, is +“hotly” loved by the queen-mother, while he prefers the +queen-daughter. The last and <em>Castaldo</em> are together. The +dowager overhears their billing and cooing, and thus, with great +moderation, sends her supposed daughter to ——. But the +author shall speak for himself:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10">“Ye viprous twain!</p> +<p>Swift whirlwinds snatch ye both to fire as endless</p> +<p>And infinite as hell! May it embrace ye!</p> +<p>And burn—burn limbs and sinews, souls, until</p> +<p>It wither ye both up—both—in its arms!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Elegant denunciation!—“viprous,” +“hell,” “sinews and souls.” Has Goethe ever +written anything like this? Certainly not. Therefore the +“Monthly” <em>is</em> right at p. 11 of the +<em>Opinions</em>. Stephens must be equal, if not superior, to the +author of “Faust.”</p> +<p>One more specimen of delicate sentiment from the lips of a +virgin concerning the lips of her lover, will fully establish the +Syncretic code of moral taste:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">CZERINA (<em>faintly</em>). “Do breathe heat +into me:</p> +<p>Lay thy warm breath unto my bloodless lips:</p> +<p>I stagger; I—I must—”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">CASTALDO. “In mercy, what?”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">CZERINA. “Wed!!!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The lady ends, most maidenly, by fainting in her lover’s +arms.</p> +<p>A higher flight is elsewhere taken. <em>Isabella</em> urges +<em>Castaldo</em> to murder <em>Martinuzzi</em>, in a sentence that +has a powerful effect upon the feelings, for it makes us shudder as +we copy it—it will cause even <em>our</em> readers to tremble +when they see it. The idea of using <em>blasphemy</em> as an +instrument for shocking the minds of an audience, is as original as +it is worthy of the <em>sort</em> of genius Mr. Stephens possesses. +Alluding to a poniard, <em>Isabella</em> says:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Sheath it where <em>God</em> and nature prompt your +hand!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>That is to say, in the breast of a cardinal!!</p> +<p>The vulgar, who set up the common-place standards of nature, +probability, moral propriety, and respect for such sacred names as +they are careful never to utter, except with reverence, will +perhaps condemn Mr. Stephens (the aforesaid “Editor of the +Church of England Quarterly Review,” and author of other +religious works) with unmitigated severity. They must not be too +hasty. Mr. Stephens is a genius, and cannot, therefore, be held +accountable for the <em>meaning</em> <span class="pagenum"><a id= +"page87" name="page87"></a>[pg 87]</span>of his ravings, be they +even blasphemous; more than that he is a Syncretic genius, and his +associates, by the designation they have chosen, by the terms of +their agreement, are bound to cry each other up—to defend one +another from the virulent attacks of common sense and plain reason. +They are sworn to <em>stick</em> together, like the bundle of rods +in Æsop’s fable.</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/008-04.png"><img src= +"images/008-04.png" alt= +"A bundle of rods tied with a banner marked 'KANT'" id="img008-04" +name="img008-04" width="20%" /></a> +<p>SYNCRETISM.</p> +</div> +<p>Mr. Stephens, their chief, the god of their idolatry, is, +consequently, more mad, or, according to their creed, a greater +genius, than the rest; and evidently writes passages he would +shudder to pen, if he knew the meaning of them. Upon paper, +therefore, the Syncretics are not accountable beings; and when +condemned to the severest penalties of critical law, must be +reprieved on the plea of literary insanity.</p> +<p>It may be said that we have descended to mere detail to +illustrate Mr. Stephens’ peculiar genius—that we ought +to treat of the grand design, or plot of the <em>Hungarian +Daughter</em>; but we must confess, with the deepest humility, that +our abilities are unequal to the task. The fable soars far beyond +the utmost flights of our poor conjectures, of our limited +comprehension. We know that at the end there are—one case of +poisoning, one ditto of stabbing with intent, &c., and one +ditto of sudden death. Hence we conclude that the play is a +tragedy; but one which “cannot be intended for an acting +play” (<em>preliminary preface</em>, p.1,)—of course +<em>as</em> a tragedy; yet so universal is the author’s +genius, that an adaptation of the <em>Hungarian Daughter</em>, as a +broad comedy, has been produced at the “Dramatic +Authors’ Theatre,” having been received with roars of +laughter!</p> +<p>The books before us have been expensively got up. In the +<em>Hungarian Daughter</em>, “rivers of type flow through +meadows of margin,” to the length of nearly three hundred +pages. Mr. Stephens is truly a most spirited printer and publisher +of his own works.</p> +<p>But the lavish outlay he must have incurred to obtain such a +number of favourable notices—so many columns of superlative +praise—shows him to be, in every sense—like the prince +of puffers, George Robins—“utterly regardless of +expense.” The works third and fourth upon our list, doubtless +cost, for the <em>copyright</em> alone, in ready money, a fortune. +It is astonishing what pecuniary sacrifices genius will make, when +it purloins the trumpet of Fame to <em>puff</em> itself into +temporary notoriety.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>INQUEST EXTRAORDINARY.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">The Whigs, who long</p> +<p class="i2">Were bold and strong,</p> +<p>On Monday night went dead.</p> +<p class="i2">The jury found</p> +<p class="i2">This verdict sound—</p> +<p>“<em>Destroy’d by low-priced bread</em>.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>AN EXCLUSIVE APPOINTMENT.</h3> +<p>It is with the most rampant delight that we rush to announce, +that a special warrant has been issued, appointing our friend and +<em>protégé</em>, the gallant and jocular Sibthorp, +to the important office of beadle and crier to the House of +Commons—a situation which has been created from the +difficulty which has hitherto been found in inducing strangers to +withdraw during a division of the House. This responsible office +could not have been conferred upon any one so capable of +discharging its onerous duties as the Colonel. We will stake our +hump, that half-a-dozen words of the gallant Demosthenes would, at +any time have the effect of</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/008-05.png"><img src= +"images/008-05.png" alt="People are tossed off of their benches." +id="img008-05" name="img008-05" width="50%" /></a> +<p>CLEARING THE STRANGER’S GALLERY.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE GREAT CRICKET MATCH AT ST. STEPHEN’S.</h3> +<h4>FIRST INNINGS.</h4> +<p>The return match between the Reform and Carlton Clubs has been +the theme of general conversation during the past week. Some +splendid play was exhibited on the occasion, and, although the +result has realised the anticipations of the best judges, it was +not achieved without considerable exertion.</p> +<p>It will be remembered that, the last time these celebrated clubs +met, the Carlton men succeeded in scoring one notch more than their +rivals; who, however, immediately challenged them to a return +match, and have been diligently practising for success since that +time.</p> +<p>The players assembled in <em>Lord’s</em> Cricket Ground on +Tuesday last, when the betting was decidedly in favour of the Cons, +whose appearance and manner was more confident than usual; while, +on the contrary, the Rads seemed desponding and shy. On tossing up, +the Whigs succeeded in getting first innings, and the Tories +dispersed themselves about the field in high glee, flattering +themselves that they would not be <em>out</em> long.</p> +<p>Wellington, on producing the ball—a genuine +<em>Duke</em>—excited general admiration by his position. +Ripon officiated as bowler at the other wicket. Sibthorp acted as +long-stop, and the rest found appropriate situations. Lefevre was +chosen umpire by mutual consent.</p> +<p>Spencer and Clanricarde went in first. Spencer, incautiously +trying to score too many notches for one of his hits, was stumped +out by Ripon, and Melbourne succeeded him. Great expectations had +been formed of this player by his own party, but he was utterly +unable to withstand Wellington’s rapid bowling, which soon +sent him to the right-about. Clanricarde was likewise run out +without scoring a notch.</p> +<p>Lansdowne and Brougham were now partners at the wickets; but +Lansdowne did not appear to like his mate, on whose play it is +impossible to calculate. Coventry, <em>the short slip</em>, excited +much merriment, by a futile attempt to catch this player out, which +terminated in his finding himself horizontal and mortified. +Wellington, having bowled out Lansdowne, resigned his ball to Peel, +who took his place at the wicket with a smile of confidence, which +frightened the bat out of the hands of Phillips, the next Rad.</p> +<p>Dundas and Labouchere were now the batmen. Labouchere is a very +intemperate player. One of Sandon’s slow balls struck his +thumb, and put him out of temper, whereupon he hit about at random, +and knocked down his wicket. Wakley took his bat, but apparently +not liking his position, he hit up and caught himself out.</p> +<p>O’Connell took his place with a lounging swagger, but his +first ball was caught by the immortal Sibthorp, who uttered more +puns on the occasion than the oldest man present recollected to +have heard perpetrated in any given time. Russell—who, by the +bye, excavated several quarts of ‘heavy’ during his +innings—was the last man the Rads had to put in. He played +with care, and appeared disposed to keep hold of the bat as long as +possible. He was, however, quietly disposed of by one of +Peel’s inexorable balls.</p> +<p>Thus far the game has proceeded. The Cons have yet to <em>go +in</em>. The general opinion is, that they will not remain in so +long as the Rads, but that they will score their notches much +quicker. Indeed, it was commonly remarked, that no players had ever +remained in so long, and had done so little good withal, as the +Reformites.</p> +<p>Betting is at 100 to 5 in favour of the Carlton men, and anxiety +is on tip-toe to know the result of the next innings.</p> +<hr /> +<p>The Tories are exulting in their recent victory over the poor +Whigs, whom they affirm have been <em>tried</em>, and found +wanting. A <em>trial</em>, indeed, where all the jurors were +witnesses for the prosecution. One thing is certain, that the +country, as usual, will have to pay the costs, for a Tory verdict +will be certain to carry them. The Whigs should prepare a motion +for a new trial, on the plea that the late decision was that of</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/008-06.png"><img src= +"images/008-06.png" alt="A crowd of people in a jury box." id= +"img008-06" name="img008-06" width="50%" /></a> +<p>A PACKED JURY.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>DECIDEDLY UNPLEASANT.</h3> +<p class="cen">“Kiss the broad +moon.”—MARTINUZZI.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Go kiss the moon!—that’s more, sirs, than I can +dare;</p> +<p>’Tis worse than madness—hasn’t she her man +there?</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>CURIOUS COINCIDENCE.</h3> +<p>The <em>Morning Advertiser</em> has a paragraph containing a +report of an extraordinary indisposition under which a private of +the Royal Guards is now suffering. It appears he lately received a +violent kick from a horse, on the back of his head: since which +time his hair has become so sensitive, that he cannot bear any one +to approach him or touch it. On some portion being cut off by +stratagem, he evinced the utmost disgust, accompanied with a volley +of oaths. This may be wonderful in French hair, but it is nothing +to the present sufferings of the Whigs in England.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page88" name="page88"></a>[pg +88]</span> +<h2>THE BARTHOLOMEW FAIR SHOW-FOLKS.</h2> +<p>Punch having been chosen by the unanimous voice of the +public—the <em>arbiter elegantiarum</em> in all matters +relating to science, literature, and the fine arts—and from +his long professional experience, being the only person in England +competent to regulate the public amusements of the people, the Lord +Mayor of London has confided to him the delicate and important duty +of deciding upon the claims of the several individuals applying for +licenses to open show-booths during the approaching Bartholomew +Fair. Punch, having called to his assistance Sir Peter Laurie and +Peter Borthwick, proceeded, on last Saturday, to hold his +inquisition in a highly-respectable court in the neighbourhood of +West Smithfield.</p> +<p>The first application was made on behalf of +<em>Richardson’s Booth</em>, by two individuals named +Melbourne and Russell.</p> +<p>PUNCH.—On what grounds do you claim?</p> +<p>MEL.—On those of long occupancy and respectability, my +lord.</p> +<p>RUSS.—We employs none but the werry best of actors, my +lud—all “bould speakers,” as my late wenerated +manager, Muster Richardson, used to call ‘em.</p> +<p>MEL.—We have the best scenery and decorations, the most +popular performances—</p> +<p>RUSS.—Hem! (<em>aside to</em> MEL.)—Best say nothing +about our performances, Mel.</p> +<p>PUNCH.—Pray what situations do you respectively hold in +the booth?</p> +<p>MEL.—<em>I</em> am principal manager, and do the heavy +tragedy business. My friend, here, is the stage-manager and low +comedy buffer, who takes the kicks, and blows the trumpet of the +establishment.</p> +<p>PUNCH.—What is the nature of the entertainments you have +been in the habit of producing?</p> +<p>RUSS.—Oh! the real legitimate drammar—“A New +Way to Pay Old Debts,” “Raising the Wind,” +“A Gentleman in Difficulties,” “Where shall I +dine?” and “Honest Thieves.” We mean to commence +the present season with “All in the wrong,” and +“His Last Legs.”</p> +<p>PUNCH.—Humph! I am sorry to say I have received several +complaints of the manner in which you have conducted the business +of your establishment for several years. It appears you put forth +bills promising wonders, while your performances have been of the +lowest possible description.</p> +<p>RUSS.—S’elp me, Bob! there ain’t a word of +truth in it. If there’s anything we takes pride on, +’tis our gentility.</p> +<p>PUNCH.—You have degraded the drama by the introduction of +card-shufflers and thimble-rig impostors.</p> +<p>RUSS.—We denies the thimble-rigging in totum, my lud; that +was brought out at Stanley’s opposition booth.</p> +<p>PUNCH.—At least you were a promoter of state conjuring and +legerdemain tricks on the stage.</p> +<p>RUSS.—Only a little hanky-panky, my lud. The people likes +it; they loves to be cheated before their faces. One, two, +three—presto—begone. I’ll show your ludship as +pretty a trick of putting a piece of money in your eye and taking +it out of your elbow, as you ever beheld. <em>Has</em> your ludship +got such a thing as a good shilling about you? ’Pon my +honour, I’ll return it.</p> +<p>PUNCH.—Be more respectful, sir, and reply to my questions. +It appears further, that several respectable persons have lost +their honesty in your booth.</p> +<p>RUSS.—Very little of that ’ere commodity is ever +brought into it, my lud.</p> +<p>PUNCH.—And, in short, that you and your colleagues’ +hands have been frequently found in the pockets of your +audience.</p> +<p>RUSS.—Only in a professional way, my lud—strictly +professional.</p> +<p>PUNCH.—But the most serious charge of all is that, on a +recent occasion, when the audience hissed your performances, you +put out the lights, let in the swell-mob, and raised a cry of +“No Corn Laws.”</p> +<p>RUSS.—Why, my lud, on that p’int I admit there was a +slight row.</p> +<p>PUNCH.—Enough, sir. The court considers you have grossly +misconducted yourself, and refuses to grant you license to +perform.</p> +<p>MEL.—But, my lord, I protest <em>I did</em> nothing.</p> +<p>PUNCH.—So everybody says, sir. You are therefore unfit to +have the management of (next to my own) the greatest theatre in the +world. You may retire.</p> +<p>MEL. (<em>to</em> RUSS.)—Oh! Johnny, this is your +work—with your confounded hanky-panky.</p> +<p>RUSS.—No—’twas you that did it; we have been +ruined by your laziness. What <em>is</em> to become of us now?</p> +<p>MEL.—Alas! where shall we dine?</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The next individual who presented himself, to obtain a license +for the Carlton Club Equestrian Troop, was a strange-loooking +character, who gave his name as Sibthorp.</p> +<p>PUNCH.—What are you, sir?</p> +<p>SIB.—Clown to the ring, my lord, and principal performer +on the Salt-box. I provide my own paint and pipe-clay, make my own +jokes, and laugh at them too. I do the ground and lofty tumbling, +and ride the wonderful donkey—all for the small sum of +fifteen bob a-week.</p> +<p>PUNCH.—You have been represented as a very noisy and +turbulent fellow.</p> +<p>SIB.—Meek as a lamb, my lord, except when I’m on the +saw-dust; there I acknowledge, I do crow pretty loudly—but +that’s in the way of business,—and your lordship knows +that we public jokers must pitch it strong sometimes to make our +audience laugh, and bring the <em>browns</em> into the treasury. +After all, my lord, I am not the rogue many people take me +for,—more the other way, I can assure you, and</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Though to my share some human errors fall,</p> +<p>Look in my face, and you’ll forget them all.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>PUNCH.—A strong appeal, I must confess. You shall have +your license.</p> +<p>The successful claimant having made his best bow to Commissioner +Punch, withdrew, whistling the national air of</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/008-07.png"><img src= +"images/008-07.png" alt="A woman attacks her husband." id= +"img008-07" name="img008-07" width="60%" /></a> +<p>“BRITONS, STRIKE HOME.”</p> +</div> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A fellow named Peel, who has been for many years in the habit of +exhibiting as a quack-doctor, next applied for liberty to vend his +nostrums at the fair. On being questioned as to his qualifications, +he shook his head gravely, and, without uttering a word, placed the +following card in the hands of Punch.</p> +<h6>TO THE GULLIBLE PUBLIC.</h6> +<h4>SIR RHUBARB PILL, M.D. and L.S.D.</h4> +<p class="cen">Professor of Political Chemistry and Conservative +Medicine to the</p> +<h4>CARLTON CLUB;</h4> +<h6>PHYSICIAN IN ORDINARY TO THE KING OF HANOVER!!!</h6> +<p class="cen">Inventor of the People’s Patent Sliding +Stomach-pump;—of the Poor Man’s anti-Breakfast and +Dinner Waist-belt;—and of the new Royal extract of Toryism, +as prescribed for, and lately swallowed by,</p> +<h4>THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS PERSONAGE IN THESE DOMINIONS.</h4> +<p>Sir Rhubarb begs further to state, that he practises national +tooth-drawing and bleeding to an unlimited extent; and undertakes +to cure the consumption of bread without the use of</p> +<h4>A FIXED PLASTER.</h4> +<p>N.B.—No connexion with the corn doctor who recently +vacated the concern now occupied by Sir R.P.</p> +<p>Hours of attendance, from ten till four each day, at his +establishment, Downing-street.—A private entrance for +M.P.’s round the corner.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Ben D’Israeli, the proprietor of the Learned Pig, applied +for permission to exhibit his animal at the fair. A license was +unhesitatingly granted by his lordship, who rightly considered that +the exhibition of the extraordinary talents of the pig and its +master, would do much to promote a taste for polite literature +amongst the Smithneld “pennyboys.”</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A poor old man, who called himself Sir Francis Burdett, applied +for a license to exhibit his wonderful Dissolving Views. The most +remarkable of which were—“The Hustings in +Covent-garden—changing to Rous’s dinner in +Drury-lane”—and “The Patriot in the +Tower—changing to the Renegade in the Carlton.” It +appeared that the applicant was, at one time, in a respectable +business, and kept “The Old Glory,” a favourite +public-house in Westminster, but, falling into bad company, he lost +his custom and his character, and was reduced to his present +miserable occupation. Punch, in pity for the wretched petitioner, +and fully convinced that his childish tricks were perfectly +harmless, granted him a license to exhibit.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Licenses were also granted to the following persons in the +course of the day:—</p> +<p>Sir E.L. Bulwer, to exhibit his own portrait, in the character +of Alcibiades, painted by himself.</p> +<p>Doctor Bowring, to exhibit six Tartarian chiefs, caught in the +vicinity of the Seven Dials, with songs, translated from the +original Irish Calmuc, by the Doctor.</p> +<p>Emerson Tennent, to exhibit his wonderful Cosmorama, or views of +anywhere and everywhere; in which the striking features of Ireland, +Greece, Belgium, and Whitechapel will be so happily confounded, +that the spectator may imagine he beholds any or all of these +places at a single glance.</p> +<p>Messrs. Stephens, Heraud, and Co., to exhibit, gratis, a +Syncretic Tragedy, with fireworks and tumbling, according to law, +between the acts; to be followed by a lecture on the Unactable +Drama.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>CAPITAL ILLUSTRATION.</h3> +<p>At the recent <em>fracas</em> in Pall Mall, between Captain +Fitzroy and Mr. Shepherd, the latter, like his predecessor of old, +the “Gentle Shepherd,” performed sundry vague +evolutions with a silver-mounted cane, and requested Captain +Fitzroy to consider himself horsewhipped. Not entertaining quite so +high an opinion of his adversary’s imaginative powers, the +Captain floored the said descendant of gentleness, thereby ably +illustrating the precise difference of the “<em>real and +ideal</em>.”</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page89" name="page89"></a>[pg +89]</span> +<h2>THE HEIR OF APPLEBITE.</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> +<h4>SHOWS HOW AGAMEMNON BECAME DISGUSTED WITH NUMBER ONE, AND THE +AWFUL CONSEQUENCES WHICH SUCCEEDED.</h4> +<div class="dropcap"><a href="images/008-08.png"><img src= +"images/008-08.png" alt= +"A man holds a bass drum on his back in the shape of a P" id= +"img008-08" name="img008-08" width="100%" /></a></div> +<p><span class="hide">P</span>oor old John’s alarm was +succeeded by astonishment, for without speaking a word, Agamemnon +bounced into his bed-chamber. He thought the room the most +miserable-looking room he had ever entered, though the floor was +covered with a thick Turkey carpet, a bright fire was blazing in +the grate, and everything about seemed fashioned for comfort. He +threw himself into an easy chair, and kicking off one of his pumps, +crossed his legs, and rested his elbow on the table. He looked at +his bed—it was a French one—a mountain of feathers, +covered with a thick, white Marseilles quilt, and festooned over +with a drapery of rich crimson damask.</p> +<p>“I’ll have a four-post to-morrow,” growled +Collumpsion; “French beds are mean-looking things, after all. +Stuffwell has the fellow-chair to this—one chair does look +strange! I wonder it has never struck me before; but it is +surprising—what—strange ide—as a +man—has”—and Collumpsion fell asleep.</p> +<p>It was broad day when Collumpsion awoke; the fire had gone out, +and his feet were as cold as ice. He (as he is married +there’s no necessity for concealment)—he swore two or +three naughty oaths, and taking off his clothes, hurried into bed +in the hope of getting warm.</p> +<p>“How confoundedly cold I am—sitting in that chair +all night, too—ridiculous. If I had had a—I mean, if I +hadn’t been alone, that wouldn’t have happened; she +would have waked me.” <em>She</em>—what the deuce made +him use the feminine pronoun!</p> +<p>At two o’clock he rose and entered his breakfast-room. The +table was laid as usual—<em>one</em> large cup and saucer, +<em>one</em> plate, <em>one</em> egg-cup, <em>one</em> knife, and +<em>one</em> fork! He did not know wherefore, but he felt to want +the number increased. John brought up a slice of broiled salmon and +<em>one</em> egg. Collumpsion got into a passion, and ordered a +second edition. The morning was rainy, so Collumpsion remained at +home, and employed himself by kicking about the ottoman, and +mentally multiplying all the single articles in his establishment +by two.</p> +<p>The dinner hour arrived, and there was the same singular +provision for one. He rang the bell, and ordered John to furnish +the table for <em>another</em>. John obeyed, though not without +some strong misgiving of his master’s sanity, as the edibles +consisted of a sole, a mutton chop, and a partridge. When John left +the room at his master’s request, Collumpsion rose and locked +the door. Having placed a chair opposite, he resumed his seat, and +commenced a series of pantomimic gestures, which were strongly +confirmatory of John’s suspicions. He seemed to be holding an +inaudible conversation with some invisible being, placing the +choicest portion of the sole in a plate, and seemingly desiring +John to deliver it to the unknown. As John was not there, he placed +it before himself, and commenced daintily and smilingly picking up +very minute particles, as though he were too much delighted to eat. +He then bowed and smiled, and extending his arm, appeared to fill +the opposite glass, and having <em>actually</em> performed the same +operation with his own, he bowed and smiled again, and sipped the +brilliant Xeres. He then rang the bell violently, and unlocking the +door, rushed rapidly back to his chair, as though he were fearful +of committing a rudeness by leaving it. The table being +replenished, and John again dismissed the room, the same pantomime +commenced. The one mutton chop seemed at first to present an +obstacle to the proper conduct of the scene; but gracefully +uncovering the partridge, and as gracefully smiling towards the +invisible, he appeared strongly to recommend the bird in preference +to the beast. Dinner at length concluded, he rose, and apparently +led his phantom guest from the table, and then returning to his +arm-chair, threw himself into it, and, crossing his hands upon his +breast, commenced a careful examination of the cinders and himself. +His rumination ended in a doze, and his doze in a dream, in which +he fancied himself a Brobdignag Java sparrow during the moulting +season. His cage was surrounded by beautiful and blooming girls, +who seemed to pity his condition, and vie with each other in +proposing the means of rendering him more comfortable. Some spoke +of elastic cotton shirts, linsey-wolsey jackets, and silk +nightcaps; others of merino hose, silk feet and cotton tops, +shirt-buttons and warming-pans; whilst Mrs. Greatgirdle and Mrs. +Waddledot sang an echo duet of “What a pity the bird is +alone.”</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“A change came o’er the spirit of his +dream.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>He thought that the moulting season was over, and that he was +rejoicing in the fulness of a sleeky plumage, and by his side was a +Java sparrowess, chirping and hopping about, rendering the cage as +populous to him as though he were the tenant of a +bird-fancier’s shop. Then—he awoke just as Old John was +finishing a glass of Madeira, preparatory to arousing Collumpsion, +for the purpose of delivering to him a scented note, which had just +been left by the footman of Mrs. Waddledot.</p> +<p>It was lucky for John that A.C.A. had been blessed with pleasant +dreams, or his attachment to Madeira might have occasioned his +discharge from No. 24, Pleasant-terrace.</p> +<p>The note was an invitation to Mrs. Waddledot’s opera-box +for that evening. The performance was to be Rossini’s +“La Cenerentola,” and as Collumpsion recollected the +subject of the opera, his heart fluttered in his bosom. A prince +marrying a cinder-sifter for love! What must the happy state +be—or rather what must it not be—to provoke such a +condescension!</p> +<p>Collumpsion never appeared to such advantage as he did that +evening; he was dressed to a miracle of perfection—his +spirits were so elastic that they must have carried him out of the +box into “Fop’s-alley,” had not Mrs. Waddledot +cleverly surrounded him by the detachment from the corps of +eighteen daughters, which had (on that night) been placed under her +command.</p> +<p>Collumpsion’s state of mind did not escape the notice of +the fair campaigners, and the most favourable deductions were drawn +from it in relation to the charitable combination which they had +formed for his ultimate good, and all seemed determined to afford +him every encouragement in their power. Every witticism that he +uttered elicited countless smiles—every criticism that he +delivered was universally applauded—in short, Agamemnon +Collumpsion Applebite was voted the most delightful beau in the +universe, and Agamemnon Collumpsion Applebite gave himself a +plumper to the same opinion.</p> +<p>On the 31st of the following month, a string of carriages +surrounded St. George’s Church, Hanover-square, and precisely +at a quarter to twelve, A.M., Agamemnon Collumpsion Applebite +placed a plain gold ring on the finger of Miss Juliana Theresa +Waddledot, being a necessary preliminary to the introduction of our +hero, the “Heir of Applebite.”</p> +<hr /> +<h3>EPIGRAM.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“I wonder if Brougham thinks as much as he +talks,”</p> +<p>Said a punster perusing a trial:</p> +<p>“I vow, since his lordship was made Baron Vaux,</p> +<p>He’s been <em>Vaux et præterea +nihil!</em>”</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE TWO FATAL CHIROPEDISTS.</h3> +<p>Our great ancestor, Joe Miller, has recorded, in his +“Booke of Jestes,” an epitaph written upon an amateur +corn-cutter, named Roger Horton, who,</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Trying one day his corn to mow off,</p> +<p>The razor slipp’d, and cut his toe off.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The painful similarity of his fate with that of another corn +experimentalist, has given rise to the following:—</p> +<h4>EPITAPH ON LORD JOHN RUSSELL, WHO EXPIRED POLITICALLY, AFTER A +LINGERING ILLNESS, ON MONDAY EVENING, AUGUST 30, 1841.</h4> +<p class="cen">In Minto quies.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Beneath this stone lies Johnny Russell,</p> +<p>Who for his place had many a tussel.</p> +<p>Trying one day <em>the corn</em> to cut down,</p> +<p>The motion fail’d, and he was <em>put</em> down.</p> +<p>The benches which he nearly grew to,</p> +<p>The Opposition quickly flew to;</p> +<p>The fact it was so mortifying,</p> +<p>That little Johnny took to dying.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>SHALL GREAT OLYMPUS TO A MOLEHILL STOOP?</h3> +<p>Some difficulty has arisen as to the production of +Knowles’s new play at the Haymarket Theatre. Mr. Charles Kean +and Miss Helen Faucit having objected to hear the play read, +“<em>because their respective parts had not been previously +submitted to them.</em>”—<em>Sunday +Times</em>.—[We are of opinion that they were decidedly +right. One might as well expect a child to spell without learning +the alphabet, as either of the above persons to understand Knowles, +unless enlightened by a long course of previous instruction.]</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page90" name="page90"></a>[pg +90]</span> +<h2>THE LETTER OF INTRODUCTION.</h2> +<p class="cen">[From a MS. drama called the “COURT OF +VICTORIA.”</p> +<p class="cen"><em>Scene in Windsor Castle.</em></p> +<p class="cen">[<em>Her Majesty discovered sitting thoughtfully at +an escrutoire.</em>—</p> +<p class="cen"><em>Enter the</em> LORD CHAMBERLAIN.]</p> +<p>LORD CHAMBERLAIN.—May it please your Majesty, a letter +from the Duke of Wellington.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN (<em>opens the letter</em>.)—Oh! a person for +the vacant place of Premier—show the bearer in, my lord. +[<em>Exit</em> LORD CHAMBERLAIN.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN (<em>muses</em>).—Sir Robert Peel—I have +heard that name before, as connected with my family. If I remember +rightly, he held the situation of adviser to the crown in the reign +of Uncle William, and was discharged for exacting a large discount +on all the state receipts; yet Wellington is very much interested +in his favour.</p> +<p class="cen"><em>Enter the</em> LORD CHAMBERLAIN, <em>who ushers +in</em> SIR ROBERT, <em>and then retires. As he is +going</em>—]</p> +<p>LORD CHAMBERLAIN (<em>aside</em>).—If you do get the +berth, Sir Robert, I hope you’ll not give me warning.</p> +<p class="rgt">[<em>Exit</em>.</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT (<em>looking demurely</em>).—Hem!</p> +<p class="cen">[<em>The Queen regards him very +attentively.</em>]</p> +<p>THE QUEEN (<em>aside</em>).—I don’t much like the +looks of the fellow—that affectation of simplicity is +evidently intended to conceal the real cunning of his character. +(<em>Aloud</em>). You are of course aware of the nature and the +duties of the situation which you solicit?</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—Oh, yes, your Majesty; I have filled it +before, and liked it very much.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—It’s a most responsible post, for upon +your conduct much of the happiness of my other servants +depends.</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—I am aware of that, your Majesty; but as no +one can hope to please everybody, I will only answer that <em>one +half</em> shall be perfectly satisfied.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—You have recently returned from Tamworth?</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—Yes, your Majesty.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—We will dispense with forms. At Tamworth, you +have been practising as a quack doctor?</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—Yes, madam; I was brought up to doctoring, and +am a professor of sleight-of-hand.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—What have you done in the latter art to entitle +you to such a distinction?</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—I have performed some very wonderful changes. +When I was out of place, I had opinions strongly opposed to +Catholic emancipation; but when I got into service I changed them +in the course of a few days.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—I have heard that you boast of possessing a +nostrum for the restoration of the public good. What is it?</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—Am I to consider myself “as regularly +called in?”</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—That is a question I decline answering at +present.</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—Then I regret that I must also remain +silent.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN (<em>aside</em>).—The wily fox! +(<em>aloud</em>)—Are you aware that great distress exists in +the country?</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—Oh, yes! I have heard that there are several +families who keep no man-servant, and that numerous clerks, +weavers, and other artisans, occupy second-floors.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—I have heard that the people are wanting +bread.</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—Ha, ha! that was from the late premier, I +suppose. He merely forgot an adjective—it is <em>cheap</em> +bread that the people are clamouring for.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—And why can they not have it?</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—I have consulted with the Duke of Richmond +upon the subject, and he says it is impossible.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—But why?</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—Wheat must be lower before bread can be +cheaper.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—Well!</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—And rents must be less if that is the case, +and—</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—Well!</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—And that the landowners won’t agree +to.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—Well!</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—And, then, I can’t keep my place a +day.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—Then the majority of my subjects are to be +rendered miserable for the advantage of the few?</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—That’s the principle of all good +governments. Besides, cheap bread would be no benefit to the +masses, for wages would be lower.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—Do you really believe such <em>would</em> be +the case?</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—Am I regularly called in?</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—You evade a direct answer, I see. Granting such +to be <em>your belief</em>, your friends and landowners would +suffer no injury, for their incomes would procure them as many +luxuries.</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—Not if they were to live abroad, or patronise +foreign manufactures: and <em>should</em> wages be higher, what +would they say to me after all the money they have expended in +bri—I mean at the Carlton Club, if I allow the value of their +“dirty acres” to be reduced.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—Pray, what do you call such views?</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—Patriotism.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—Charity would be a better term, as that is said +to begin at home. How long were you in your last place?</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—Not half so long as I wished—for the +sake of the country.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—Why did you leave?</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—Somebody said I was saucy—and somebody +else said I was not honest—and somebody else said I had +better go.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—Who was the latter somebody?</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—My master.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—Your exposure of my late premier’s +faults, and your present application for his situation, result from +disinterestedness, of course?</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—Of course, madam.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—Then salary is not so much an object as a +comfortable situation.</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—I beg pardon; but I’ve been out of place +ten years, and have a small family to support. <em>Wages</em> is, +therefore, some sort of a consideration.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—I don’t quite like you.</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT (<em>glancing knowingly at the Queen</em>).—I +don’t think there is any one that <em>you can</em> have +better.</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—I’m afraid not.</p> +<p>SIR ROBERT.—Then, am I regularly called in?</p> +<p>THE QUEEN.—Yes, you can take your boxes to +Downing-street.</p> +<p class="rgt">[<em>Exeunt ambo</em>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>PARLIAMENTARY INTENTIONS.</h3> +<p>Mr. Muntz, we understand, intends calling the attention of +Parliament, at the earliest possible period, to the state of the +crops.</p> +<p>Lord Palmerston intends proposing, that a looking-glass for the +use of members should be placed in the ante-room of the House, and +that it shall be called the New Mirror of Parliament.</p> +<p>Mr. T. Duncombe intends moving that the plans of Sir Robert Peel +be immediately submitted to the photographic process, in order that +some light may be thrown upon them as soon as possible.</p> +<p>The Earl of Coventry intends suggesting, that every member of +both Houses be immediately supplied with a copy of the work called +“Ten Minutes’ Advice on Corns,” in order to +prepare Parliament for a full description of the Corn Laws.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>EXTRA FASHIONABLE NEWS.</h3> +<p>Colonel Sibthorp has expressed his intention of becoming the +blue-faced monkey at the Zoological Gardens with his +<em>countenance</em>, on next Wednesday.</p> +<p>Lord Melbourne has received visits of condolence on his +retirement from office, from Aldgate pump—Canning’s +statue in Palace-yard—the Three Kings of Brentford—and +the Belle Sauvage, Ludgate-hill.</p> +<p>Her Royal Highness the Princess, her two nurses, and a +pap-spoon, took an airing twice round the great hall of the palace, +at one o’clock yesterday.</p> +<p>The Burlington Arcade will be thrown open to visitors to-morrow +morning. Gentlemen intending to appear there, are requested to come +with tooth-picks and full-dress walking-canes.</p> +<p>Sir Francis Burdett’s top-boots were seen, on last +Saturday, walking into Sir Robert Peel’s house, accompanied +by the legs of that venerable turner.</p> +<p>His Grace the Duke of Wellington inspected all the passengers in +Pall Mall, from the steps of the United Service Club-house, and +expressed himself highly pleased with the celerity of the +‘busses and cabs, and the effective state of the pedestrians +generally.</p> +<p>His Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex has, in the most +unequivocal manner, expressed his opinion on the state of the +weather—which he pronounces to be hot! hot! all hot!</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A SINGULAR INADVERTENCE.</h3> +<p>A good deal of merriment was caused in the House of Commons, by +Mr. Bernal and Commodore Napier addressing the members as +“gentlemen.” This may be excusable in young members, +but the oldest parliamentary reporter has no recollection of the +term being used by any one who had sat a session in the House. +“Too much familiarity,” &c.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page91" name="page91"></a>[pg +91]</span> +<h2>PUNCH’S PENCILLINGS—No. VIII.</h2> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/008-09.png"><img src= +"images/008-09.png" alt= +"A woman sits at a desk while a gentleman looks on." id="img008-09" +name="img008-09" width="100%" /></a> +<p>THE LETTER OF INTRODUCTION.</p> +</div> +<!-- [pg 92] --> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page93" name="page93"></a>[pg +93]</span> +<h2>THE MINISTRY’S ODE TO THE PASSIONS.</h2> +<h4>NOT BY COLLINS.</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When the Whig Ministry had run,</p> +<p>Nor left behind a mother’s son,</p> +<p>The Tories, at their leader’s call,</p> +<p>Came thronging round him, one and all,</p> +<p>Exulting, braying, cringing, coaxing,</p> +<p>Expert at humbugging and hoaxing;</p> +<p>By turns they felt an <em>honest</em> zeal</p> +<p>For private good and public weal;</p> +<p>Till all at once they raised such yells,</p> +<p>As rung in Apsley House the bells:</p> +<p>And as they sought snug berths to get</p> +<p>In Bobby Peel’s new cabinet,</p> +<p>Each, for interest ruled the hour,</p> +<p>Would prove his taste for place and power.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>First Follett’s hand, his skill to try,</p> +<p class="i2">Upon the <em>seals</em> bewilder’d laid;</p> +<p>But back recoil’d—he scarce knew why—</p> +<p class="i2">Of Lyndhurst’s angry scowl afraid.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Next Stanley rush’d with frenzied air;</p> +<p class="i2">His eager haste brook’d no delay:</p> +<p>He rudely seized the <em>Foreign</em> chair,</p> +<p class="i2">And bade poor Cupid trudge away.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>With woeful visage Melbourne sate—</p> +<p class="i2">A pint of double X his grief beguiled;</p> +<p>And inly pondering o’er his fate,</p> +<p class="i2">He bade th’ attendant pot-boy “draw it +mild.”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But thou, Sir Jamie Graham—prig;</p> +<p class="i2">What was thy delighted musing?</p> +<p>Now accepting, now refusing,</p> +<p>Till on the Admiralty pitch’d,</p> +<p class="i2">Still would that thought his speech prolong;</p> +<p>To gain the place for which he long had itch’d,</p> +<p class="i2">He call’d on Bobby still through all the +song;</p> +<p>But ever as his sweetest theme he chose,</p> +<p>A sovereign’s golden chink was heard at every close,</p> +<p>And Pollock grimly smiled, and shook his powder’d wig.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And longer had he droned—but, with a frown</p> +<p class="i8">Brougham impatient rose;</p> +<p>He threw the bench of snoring bishops down,</p> +<p class="i8">And, with a withering look,</p> +<p class="i8">The Whig-denouncing trumpet took,</p> +<p>And made a speech so fierce and true,</p> +<p>Thrashing, with might and main, both friend and foe;</p> +<p class="i8">And ever and anon he beat,</p> +<p class="i8">With doubled fist his cushion’d seat;</p> +<p>And though sometimes, each breathless pause between,</p> +<p class="i8">Astonished Melbourne at his side,</p> +<p class="i8">His moderating voice applied,</p> +<p>Yet still he kept his stern, unalter’d mien,</p> +<p>While battering the Whigs and Tories black and blue.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thy ravings, Goulburn, to no theme were fix’d.</p> +<p class="i2">Not ev’n thy virtue is without its spots;</p> +<p>With piety thy politics were mix’d,</p> +<p class="i2">And now they courted Peel, now call’d on Doctor +Watts.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>With drooping jaw, like one half-screw’d,</p> +<p>Lord Johnny sate in doleful mood,</p> +<p>And for his Secretarial seat,</p> +<p>Sent forth his howlings sad, but sweet</p> +<p>Lost Normanby pour’d forth his sad adieu;</p> +<p class="i8">While Palmerston, with graceful air,</p> +<p class="i8">Wildly toss’d his scented hair;</p> +<p>And pensive Morpeth join’d the sniv’lling crew.</p> +<p class="i2">Yet still they lingered round with fond delay,</p> +<p class="i8">Humming, hawing, stopping, musing,</p> +<p class="i8">Tory rascals all abusing,</p> +<p class="i2">Till forced to move away.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But, oh! how alter’d was the whining tone</p> +<p class="i2">When, loud-tongued Lyndhurst, that unblushing +wight,</p> +<p>His gown across his shoulders flung,</p> +<p class="i2">His wig with virgin-powder white,</p> +<p>Made an ear-splitting speech that down to Windsor rung,</p> +<p>The Tories’ call, that Billy Holmes well knew,</p> +<p>The turn-coat Downshire and his Orange crew;</p> +<p>Wicklow and Howard both were seen</p> +<p>Brushing away the wee bit green;</p> +<p>Mad Londonderry laugh’d to hear,</p> +<p>And Inglis scream’d and shook his ass’s ear</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Last Bobby Peel, with hypocritic air,</p> +<p class="i2">He with modest look came sneaking:</p> +<p>First to “<em>the Home</em>” his easy vows +addrest,—</p> +<p class="i2">But soon he saw the <em>Treasury’s</em> red +chair,</p> +<p>Whose soft inviting seat he loved the best.</p> +<p>They would have thought, who heard his words,</p> +<p>They saw in Britain’s cause a patriot stand,</p> +<p>The proud defender of his land,</p> +<p>To aw’d and list’ning senates speaking;—</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But as his fingers touch’d the purse’s strings,</p> +<p class="i2">The chinking metal made a magic sound,</p> +<p class="i2">While hungry placemen gather’d fast around:</p> +<p class="i2">And he, as if by chance or play,</p> +<p class="i2">Or that he would their venal votes repay,</p> +<p>The golden treasures round upon them flings.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>SIR ROBERT PEEL AND THE QUEEN.</h3> +<p>Upon the first interview of the Queen with Sir Robert Peel, her +Majesty was determined to answer only in monosyllables to all he +said; and, in fact, to make her replies <em>an echo</em>, and +nothing more, to whatever he said to her. The following dialogue, +which we have thrown into verse for the purpose of smoothing +it—the tone of it, as spoken, having been on one side, at +least, rather rough—ensued between the illustrious persons +alluded to.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>HE.—Before we into minor details go,</p> +<p class="i6">Do I possess your confidence or no?</p> +<p class="rgt">SHE.—<em>No.</em></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>HE.—You shall not vex me, though your treatment’s +rough;</p> +<p class="i6">No, madam, I am made of sterner stuff.</p> +<p class="rgt">SHE.—<em>Stuff.</em></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>HE.—Really, if thus your minister you flout,</p> +<p class="i6">A single syllable he can’t get out.</p> +<p class="rgt">SHE.—<em>Get out!</em></p> +<p>HE.—But try me, madam; time indeed will show</p> +<p class="i6">Unto what lengths to serve you I would go.</p> +<p class="rgt">SHE.—<em>Go.</em></p> +<p>HE.—We both have power,—’tis doubtful which is +greater;</p> +<p class="i6">These crooked words had better be made +straighter.</p> +<p class="rgt">SHE.—<em>Traighter (Traitor.)</em></p> +<p>HE.—Farewell! and never in this friendly strain</p> +<p class="i6">(My proffer’d aid foregone) I breathe +again!</p> +<p class="rgt">SHE.—<em>Gone. I breathe again!</em></p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>SONGS OF THE SEEDY.—NO. 2.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I cannot rove with thee, where zephyrs float—</p> +<p class="i2">Sweet sylvan scenes devoted to the loves!—</p> +<p>For, oh! I have not got one decent coat,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor can I sport a single pair of gloves.</p> +<p>Gladly I’d wander o’er the verdant lawn,</p> +<p class="i2">Where graze contentedly the fleecy flock;</p> +<p>But can I show myself in gills so torn,</p> +<p class="i2">Or brave the public gaze in such a stock?</p> +<p>I know <em>thou</em>’lt answer me that love is blind,</p> +<p class="i2">And faults in one it worships can’t +perceive;</p> +<p>It must be sightless, truly, not to find</p> +<p class="i2">The hole that’s gaping in my threadbare +sleeve.</p> +<p>Farewell, my love—for, oh! by heaven, we part,</p> +<p class="i2">And though it cost me all the pangs of hell.</p> +<p>The herd shall not on thee inflict a smart,</p> +<p class="i2">By calling after us—“There goes a +swell!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>A PRIVATE BOX.</h3> +<p>During the clear-out on Wednesday last in Downing-street, a +small chest, strongly secured, was found among some models of +balloting-boxes. It had evidently been forgotten for some years, +and upon opening it, was found to contain the Whig promises of +1832. They were immediately conveyed to Lord Melbourne, who +appeared much astonished at these resuscitation of the</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/008-10.png"><img src= +"images/008-10.png" alt="A man is covered with children." id= +"img008-10" name="img008-10" width="50%" /></a> +<p>HOME OFFICE.</p> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page94" name="page94"></a>[pg +94]</span> +<h2>THE LOST MEDICAL PAPERS OF THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION.</h2> +<p>“It is somewhat remarkable,” observe the journals of +the past week, “that the medical division of this scientific +meeting has not contributed one single paper this year in +furtherance of its object, although the communications from that +section have usually been of a highly important +character.”</p> +<p>The journals may think it somewhat remarkable—we do not at +all; for here, as in every other event of the day, a great deal +depends upon being “behind the curtain;” and as the +greater portion of our life is passed in that locality, we are +always to be relied upon for authenticity in our statements. The +plain truth is, that the papers were inadvertently lost, and rather +than lead to some unpleasant disclosures, in which the eminent +professor to whom they were entrusted would have been deeply +implicated, it was thought best to say nothing about them. By +chance they fell into the hands of the manager of one of our +perambulating theatres, who was toiling his way from the west of +England to Egham races, and having deposited them in his portable +green-room, under the especial custody of the clown, the doctor, +and the overbearing parochial authority, he duly remitted them to +our office. We have been too happy in giving them a place in our +columns, feeling an honest pride in thus taking the lead of the +chief scientific publications of the day. It will be seen that they +are drawn up as a report, all ready for publication, according to +the usual custom of such proceedings, where every one knows +beforehand what they are to dispute or agree with.</p> +<p>Dr. Splitnerve communicated a remarkable case of Animal +Magnetism:—Eugene Doldrum, aged 21, a young man of bilious +and interesting temperament, having been mesmerized, was rendered +so keenly magnetic, as to give rise to a most remarkable train of +phenomena. On being seated upon a music-stool, he immediately +becomes an animated compass, and turns round to the north. Knives +and forks at dinner invariably fly towards him, and he is not able +to go through any of the squares, in consequence of being attracted +firmly to the iron railings. As most of the experiments took place +at the North London Hospital, Euston-square was his chief point of +attraction, and when he was removed, it was always found necessary +to break off the railings and take them away with him. This +accounted for the decrepit condition of the <em>fleur de lys</em> +that surround the inclosure, which was not, as generally supposed, +the work of the university pupils residing in Gower-place. Perfect +insensibility to pain supervened at the same time, and his friends +took advantage of this circumstance to send him, by way of delicate +compliment, to a lying-in lady, in the style of a pedestrian +pin-cushion, his cheeks being stuck full of minikin pins, on the +right side, forming the words “Health to the Babe,” and +on the left, “Happiness to the Mother.”</p> +<p>Dr. Mortar read a talented paper on the cure of strabismus, or +squinting, by dividing the muscles of the eye. The patient, a +working man, squinted so terribly, that his eyes almost got into +one another’s sockets; and at times he was only able to see +by looking down the inside of his nose and out at the nostrils. The +operation was performed six weeks ago, when, on cutting through the +muscles, its effects were instantly visible: both the eyes +immediately diverging to the extreme outer angles of their +respective orbits.</p> +<p>Dr. Sharpeye inquired if the man did not find the present state +of his vision still very perplexing.</p> +<p>Dr. Mortar replied, that so far from injuring his sight, it had +proved highly beneficial, as the patient had procured a very +excellent situation in the new police, and received a double +salary, from the power he possessed of keeping an eye upon both +sides of the road at the same time.</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/008-11.png"><img src= +"images/008-11.png" alt="A cross-eyed woman" id="img008-11" name= +"img008-11" width="50%" /></a> +<p>WILL YOU LOOK THIS WAY, IF YOU PLEASE?</p> +</div> +<p>An elaborate and highly scientific treatise was then read by Dr. +Sexton, upon a disease which had been very prevalent in town during +the spring, and had been usually termed the influenza. He defined +it as a disease of convenience, depending upon various exciting +causes acting upon the mind. For instance:—</p> +<p>Mrs. A——, a lady residing in Belgrave-square, was on +the eve of giving a large party, when, upon hearing that Mr. +A—— had made an unlucky speculation in the funds, the +whole family were seized with influenza so violently, that they +were compelled to postpone the reunion, and live upon the provided +supper for a fortnight afterwards.</p> +<p>Miss B—— was a singer at one of our large theatres, +and had a part assigned to her in a new opera. Not liking it, she +worried herself into an access of influenza, which unluckily seized +her the first night the opera was to have been played.</p> +<p>But the most marked case was that of Mr. C——, a +clerk in a city house of business, who was attacked and cured +within three days. It appeared that he had been dining that +afternoon with some friends, who were going to Greenwich fair the +next day, and on arriving at home, was taken ill with influenza, so +suddenly that he was obliged to despatch a note to that effect to +his employer, stating also his fear that he should be unable to +attend at his office on the morrow. Dr. Sexton said he was indebted +for an account of the progress of his disease to a young medical +gentleman, clinical clerk at a leading hospital, who lodged with +the patient in Bartholomew-close. The report had been drawn up for +the <em>Lancet</em>, but Dr. S. had procured it by great +interest.</p> +<div class="note"> +<p>MAY 30, 1841, 11 P.M.—Present symptoms:—Complains of +his employer, and the bore of being obliged to be at the office +next morning. Has just eaten a piece of cold beef and pickles, with +a pint of stout. Pulse about 75, and considerable defluxion from +the nose, which he thinks produced by getting a piece of Cayenne +pepper in his eye. Swallowed a crumb, which brought on a violent +fit of coughing. Wishes to go to bed.</p> +<p>MAY 31, 9 A.M.—Has passed a tolerable night, but appears +restless, and unable to settle to anything. Thinks he could eat +some broiled ham if he had it; but not possessing any, has taken +the following:</p> +<table summary="prescription" style="margin-left:10%;"> +<tr> +<td style="text-align:right;">℞—</td> +<td>Infus. coffee</td> +<td>lbj</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td>Sacchari</td> +<td>ʒiij</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td>Lactis Vaccæ</td> +<td>℥j</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="3">Ft. mistura, poculum mane sumendum.</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>A plaster ordered to be applied to the inside of the stomach, +consisting of potted bloater spread upon bread and butter.</p> +<p>Eleven, A.M.—Appears rather hotter since breakfast. Change +of air recommended, and Greenwich decided upon.</p> +<p>Half-past 11.—Complains of the draught and noise of the +second-class railway carriages, but is otherwise not worse. Thinks +he should like “a drain of half-and-half.” Has blown +his nose once in the last quarter of an hour.</p> +<p>Two, P.M.—Since a light dinner of rump steaks and stout, a +considerable change has taken place. He appears labouring under +cerebral excitement and short pipes, and says he shall have a +regular beanish day, and go it similar to bricks. Calls the waiter +up to him in one of the booths, and has ordered “a glass of +cocktail with the chill off and a cinder in it.”</p> +<p>Three, P.M.—Has sallied out into the fair, still much +excited, calling every female he meets “Susan,” and +pronouncing the s’s with a whistling accent. Expresses a +desire to ride in the ships that go round and round.</p> +<p>Half-past 3.—The motion of the ships has tended +considerably to relieve his stomach. Pulse slow and countenance +pale, with a desire for a glass of ale. Has entered a peepshow, and +is now arguing with the exhibitor upon the correctness of his view +of the siege of “St. Jane Daker!” which he maintains +was a sea-port, and not a field with a burning windmill, as +represented in the view.</p> +<p>Eight, P.M.—After rambling vaguely about the fair all the +afternoon, he has decided upon taking a hot-air bath in +Algar’s Crown and Anchor booth. Evidently delirious. Has put +on a false nose, and purchased a tear-coat rattle. Appears +labouring under violent spasmodic action of the muscles of his +legs, as he dances “Jim along Josey,” when he sets to +his partner in a country dance of eighty couple.</p> +<p>Half-past 10, P.M.—Has just intimated that he does not see +the use of going home, as you can always go there when you can go +nowhere else. Is seated straddling across one of the tables, on +which he is beating time to the band with a hooky stick. Will not +allow the state of his pulse to be ascertained, but says we may +feel his fist if we like.</p> +<p>Eleven.—Considerable difficulty experienced in getting the +patient to the railroad, but we at last succeeded. After telling +every one in the carriage “that he wasn’t afraid of any +of them,” he fell into a deep stertorous sleep. On arriving +at home, he got into bed with his boots on, and passed a restless +night, turning out twice to drink water between one and four.</p> +<p>JUNE.—10, A.M.—Has just returned from his office, +his employer thinking him very unfit for work, and desiring him to +lay up for a day or two. Complains of being “jolly +seedy,” and thinks he shall go to Greenwich again to get all +right.</p> +</div> +<p>A thrilling paper upon the “Philosophy of death,” +was then read by Professor Wynne Slow. After tracing the origin of +that fatal attack, which it appears the earliest nations were +subject to, the learned author showed profound research in bringing +forward the various terms applied to the act of dying by popular +authors. <span class="pagenum"><a id="page95" name="page95"></a>[pg +95]</span>Amongst the principal, he enumerated “turning your +toes up,” “kicking the bucket,” “putting up +your spoon,” “slipping your wind,” “booking +your place,” “breaking your bellows,” +“shutting up your shop,” and other phrases full of +expression.</p> +<p>The last moments of remarkable characters were especially dwelt +upon, in connexion, more especially, with the drama, which gives us +the best examples, from its holding a mirror up to nature. It +appeared that at Astley’s late amphitheatre, the dying men +generally shuffled about a great deal in the sawdust, fighting on +their knees, and showing great determination to the last, until +life gave way; that at the Adelphi the expiring character more +frequently saw imaginary demons waiting for him, and fell down, +uttering “Off, fiends! I come to join you in your world of +flames!” and that clowns and pantaloons always gave up the +ghost with heart-rending screams and contortions of visage, as +their deaths were generally violent, from being sawn in half, +having holes drilled in them with enormous gimlets, or being shot +out of cannon; but that, at the same time, these deaths were not +permanent.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>FOREIGN INTELLIGENCE.</h3> +<p>Our foreign expresses have reached us <em>via</em> Billingsgate, +and are full of interesting matter. Captain Fitz-Flammer is in +prison at Boulogne, for some trifling misunderstanding with a +native butcher, about the settlement of an account; but we trust no +time will be lost by our government in demanding his release at the +hands of the authorities. The attempt to make it a private question +is absurd; and every Englishman’s blood will simmer, if it +does not actually boil, at the intelligence. Fitz-Flammer was only +engaged in doing that which many of our countrymen visit Boulogne +expressly to do, and it is hard that he should have been +intercepted in his retreat, after accomplishing his object. To live +at the expense of a natural enemy is certainly a bold and patriotic +act, which ought to excite sympathy at home, and protection abroad. +The English packet, the <em>City of Boulogne</em>, has turned one +of its imitation guns directly towards the town, which, we trust, +will have the effect of bringing the French authorities to +reason.</p> +<p>It is expected that the treaty will shortly be signed, by which +Belgium cedes to France a milestone on the north frontier; while +the latter country returns to the former the whole of the territory +lying behind a pig-stye, taken possession of in the celebrated 6th +<em>vendemiaire</em>, by the allied armies. This will put an end to +the heart-burnings that have long existed on either side of the +Rhine, and will serve to apply the sponge at once to a long score +of national animosities.</p> +<p>Our letters from the East are far from encouraging. The Pasha +has had a severe sore-throat, and the disaffected have taken +advantage of the circumstance. Ibrahim had spent the two last +nights in the mountains, and was unfurling his standard, when our +express left, in the very bosom of the desert. Mehemet Ali was +still obstinate, and had dismissed his visier for impertinence. The +whole of Servia is in a state of revolt, and the authorities have +planted troops along the entire line, the whole of whom have gone +over to the enemy. It is said there must be further concessions, +and a new constitution is being drawn up; but it is not expected +that any one will abide by it. Mehemet attempted to throw himself +upon the rock of Nungab, with a tremendous force, but those about +him wisely prevented him from doing so.</p> +<p>We have received China (tea) papers to the 16th. There is +nothing in them.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>FANCIED FAIR.</h3> +<p>“The Duke of Wellington,” says a correspondent of +the <em>Times</em>, “left his umbrella behind him at a fancy +fair, held for charitable purposes, between Twickenham and +Teddington. On discovering it, Lady P. immediately said, ‘Who +will give twenty guineas for the Duke’s umbrella?’ A +purchaser was soon found; and when the fact was communicated to his +Grace, he good-naturedly remarked, ‘I’ll soon supply +you with umbrellas, if you can sell them with so much advantage to +the charity.’” We trust his Grace’s benevolent +disposition will not induce him to carry this offer into execution. +We should extremely regret to see the Hero of Waterloo in +Leicester-square, of a rainy night, vending second-hand +<em>parapluies</em>. The same charitable impulse will doubtlessly +induce other fashionable hawkers at fancy fairs to pick his +Grace’s pockets. We are somewhat curious to know what a +Wellington bandana would realise, especially were it the produce of +some pretty lady P.’s petty larceny. “Charity,” +it is said, “covereth a multitude of sins.” What must +it do with an umbrella? We fear that Lady P. will some day figure +in the “fashionable departures.”</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/008-12.png"><img src= +"images/008-12.png" alt="A man picks another's pocket" id= +"img008-12" name="img008-12" width="50%" /></a> +<p>FOR SYDNEY DIRECT.</p> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>PUNCH’S THEATRE.</h2> +<h3>MARTINUZZI AS THE ACT DIRECTS.</h3> +<p>The production upon the stage of a tragedy “not intended +for an acting play,” as a broad travestie, is a novel and +dangerous experiment—one, however, which the combined genius +of the Dramatic Authors’ Council has made, with the utmost +success. The “Hungarian Daughter” was, under the title +of “Martinuzzi,” received, on its first appearance, +with bursts of applause and convulsions of laughter!</p> +<p>The plot of this piece our literary reviewer has expressed +himself unable to unravel. We are in the same condition; all we can +promise is some account of the scenes as they followed each other; +of the characters, the sentiments, the poetry, and the rest of the +fun.</p> +<p>The play opens with an elderly gentleman, in a spangled +dressing-gown, who commences business by telling us the time of +day, poetically clapping a wig upon the sun, by saying, he</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Shakes day about, like perfume from his +<em>hair</em>,”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>which statement bears out the after sentence, that “the +wisdom he endures is terrible!” An Austrian +gentleman—whose dress made us at first mistake him for +Richard III. on his travels—arrives to inform the gentleman +<em>en déshabille</em>—no other than <em>Cardinal +Martinuzzi</em> himself—that he has come from King Ferdinand, +to ask if he will be so good as to give up some regency; which the +Cardinal, however, respectfully declines doing. A gentleman from +Warsaw is next announced, and <em>Castaldo</em> retires, having +incidentally declared a passion for the reigning queen of +Hungary.</p> +<p>Mr. Selby, as <em>Rupert</em> from Warsaw, then appears, in a +dress most correctly copied from the costume of the knave of clubs. +Being a Pole, he stirs up the Cardinal vigorously enough to provoke +some exceedingly intemperate language, chiefly by bringing to his +memory a case of child-stealing, to which <em>Martinuzzi</em> was, +before he had quite sown his wild oats, <em>particeps +criminis</em>. This case having got into the papers (which +<em>Rupert</em> had preserved), the Cardinal wants to obtain them, +but offers a price not long enough for the Pole, who, declaring +that <em>Martinuzzi</em> carries it “too high” to be +trusted with them, vanishes. Mr. Morley afterwards comes forward to +sing a song according to Act of Parliament, and the scene changes +for Miss Collect to comply, a second time, with the 25th of George +II.</p> +<p>In the following scene, the Queen Dowager of Hungary, +<em>Isabella</em>, introduces herself to the audience, to inform +them that the Austrian gentleman, <em>Castaldo</em>, is</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10">“the mild,</p> +<p>Pity-fraught object of her fondness.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>He appears. She makes several inflammatory speeches, which he +seems determined not to understand, for he is in love with the +virgin queen; and maidens before dowagers is evidently his sensible +motto.</p> +<p>The second act opens with the queen junior stating her +assurance, that if she lives much longer she will die, and that +when she is quite dead, she will hate +<em>Martinuzzi</em><sup>3</sup><span class="sidenote">3. +“<em>Czerina.</em> When I am dead—which will be +soon—I feel,<br /> +If I much longer on my throne remain,<br /> +I shall abhor the name of Martinuzzi.”</span>. As, however, +she means to hate when she is deceased, she will make the most of +her time while alive, by devoting herself to courtship and +<em>Castaldo</em>: for a very tender love-scene ensues, at the end +of which the lady elopes, to leave the lover a clear stage for some +half-dozen minutes’ ecstatics, appropriately ended by his +arrest, ordered by <em>Martinuzzi</em>. Why, it is not stated, the +officer not even producing the copy of a writ.</p> +<p>In the next scene, <em>Isabella</em> is visited by +<em>Rupert</em>, who disinterestedly presents the dowager with the +papers for nothing, which he was before offered an odd castle and +snug estate for, by <em>Martinuzzi</em>. This is accounted for on +no other supposition, than the proverbial gallantry of gentlemen +from Warsaw.</p> +<p><em>Martinuzzi</em>, possessing a ward whom he is anxious should +wed the queen, opens the third act by declaring he will +“precipitate the match,” and so the author +considerately sends <em>Czerina</em> to him, to talk the matter +over. But the young lady gets into a passion, and the Cardinal +declares he can make nothing of her, in the following +passage:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Fool! I can make thee nothing but a laugh.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>A sentiment to which the audience gave a most vociferous echo. +The damsel is angry that she may not have the man she has chosen, +and threatens to faint, but defers that operation till her +lover’s arms are near enough to receive her; which they +happen to be just in time, for <em>Martinuzzi</em> retires and +<em>Castaldo</em> comes on. <em>Czerina</em>, to be quite sure, +exclaims, “<em>Are</em> these thy arms?” (<em>sic</em>) +and finally faints in the lover’s embrace, so as to exhibit a +picturesque cuddle.</p> +<p><em>Queen Isabella</em> is discovered, in the second scene of +this act, perusing the much vaunted “papers” with +intense interest. Unluckily <em>Castaldo</em> chooses that moment +to complain, that <em>Martinuzzi</em> will not let him marry her +rival. The queen, being by no means a temperate person, and +wondering at his impudence in telling <em>her</em> such a tale, +raves thus:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“My soul’s on fire I’m choked, and seem to +perish;</p> +<p><em>But will suppress my scream</em>”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Probably for fear of compromising <em>Castaldo</em>, who is +alone with her; and she ends the act by requesting the Austrian to +murder <em>Martinuzzi</em>; to which he is so obliging as to +consent, the more so, as an order comes from the Secretary of State +for foreign affairs, of his own government, to “cut +off” (<em>sic</em>) the Regent.</p> +<p>The fourth act is enlivened by a masquerade and a murder. The +gentleman from Warsaw having abused the hospitality of his host by +getting drunk, is punished by one of <em>Martinuzzi’s</em> +attendants with a mortal stab; and having, in the agonies of death, +made a careful survey of all the sofas in the apartment, suits +himself with the softest, and dies in great comfort.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page96" name="page96"></a>[pg +96]</span> +<p>After this, the masquerade proceeds with spirit. +<em>Isabella</em> mixes in the festive scene, disguised in a +domino, made of black sticking-plaster. <em>Czerina</em> overhears +that she is a usurper and a changeling, and expresses her surprise +in a line most unblushingly stolen from Fitz-Ball and the other +poetico-melo-dramatists:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Merciful Heavens! do my ears deceive me?”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The festivities conclude with an altercation between +<em>Martinuzzi</em> and <em>Isabella</em>, carried on with much +vigour on both sides. The lady accuses the gentleman of +inebriation, and he owns the soft impeachment, fully bearing it out +by several incoherent speeches.</p> +<p>This was one of the most successful scenes in the comedy. The +death of <em>Rupert</em>, Mr. Morley’s song about “The +sea,” the quarrel (which was about the great pivot of the +plot, “the papers,” inscribed, says +<em>Martinuzzi</em>,</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“With ink that’s <em>brew’d</em> in the +infernal Styx,”)</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>were all received with uproarious bursts of laughter.</p> +<p>In the fifth act, we behold <em>Martinuzzi</em> and the usurping +young Queen making matters up at a railway pace. She has it all her +own way. If she choose, she may marry <em>Castaldo</em>, retire +into private life, be a “farm-house thrall,” and keep a +“dairy;” for which estate she has previously expressed +a decided predilection<sup>4</sup><span class="sidenote">4. Acting +play, published in the theatre, p. 32.</span>.</p> +<p>But it is the next scene that the author seems to have reserved +for putting forth his strongest powers of burlesque and broad +humour. <em>Isabella</em> and <em>Castaldo</em> are together; the +latter feels a little afraid to murder <em>Martinuzzi</em>, but is +impelled to the deed by a thousand imaginary torches, which he +fears will hurry his “<em>moth</em>-like soul” into +their “blinding sun-beams,” till it (the soul) is +scorched “<em>into</em> cinders.”</p> +<p><em>Castaldo</em> appears, in truth, a very bad barber of +murders; for, as he is rushing out to</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Strike the tyrant down—in crimson streams</p> +<p>Rend every nerve,”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p><em>Isabella</em> has the shrewdness to discover that he is +without a weapon. Important omission! The incipient assassin +exclaims—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Oh! that I had my sword!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>but at that moment (clever, dramatic contrivance!)</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>[<em>Enter</em> CZERINA, <em>with a drawn sword</em>.]</p> +<p>“CZERINA. There’s one! Thine own!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Far from being grateful for this opportune supply of ways and +means for murder. <em>Castaldo</em> calls the bilbo a “fated +aspic,” upon the edge of which his “eye-balls crack to +look,” and makes a raving exit from the stage, to a roaring +laugh from the audience.</p> +<p>It is quite clear to <em>Isabella</em>, from his extreme +carelessness about his tools, that <em>Castaldo</em> is not safely +to be trusted with a job which requires so much tact and +business-like exactitude as the capital offence. She therefore +“<em>shows a phial</em>,” which she intends, +“occasion suiting,” for +“<em>Martinuzzi’s</em> bane;” thereby hinting +that, if <em>Castaldo</em> fail with his steel medicine, she is +ready with a surer potion.</p> +<p>The next scene, being the last, was ushered in with +acclamations. The stage, as is always in that case made and +provided, was full. There is a young gentleman on a throne, and +<em>Czerina</em> beside it, having been somehow ungallantly +deposed. <em>Martinuzzi</em> expresses a wish to drink +somebody’s health, and this being the “fitting +opportunity” mentioned by the author in the scene preceeding, +<em>Isabella</em> empties the phial of her wrath into the beverage, +and the <em>Cardinal</em> quenches his thirst with a most +intemperate draught. It is now duly announced, that +<em>Castaldo</em> is, “with naked sword, approaching.” +That gentleman appears, and makes a speech long enough for any man +who has had such plain warning of what is to happen—even a +cardinal encumbered with a spangled dressing-gown—to get a +mile out of his way. The speech quite ended, he goes to work, and +with “this from King Ferdinand,” thrusts at +<em>Martinuzzi</em>. <em>Czerina</em>, however, throws herself, +with great skill, on the point of the sword, and dies. Another long +harangue from <em>Castaldo</em>—which, as he is evidently +broken-winded from exertion, is pronounced in tiny +snatches—and he dies with a “ha!” for +want—like many greater men—of breath.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, the poison makes <em>Martinuzzi</em> exceedingly +uncomfortable in the stomachic regions. He is quite sure</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“That hath been done to me which sends me +<em>star</em>-ward!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>but in his progress thither he evidently loses his way; for he +ends the play by inquiring—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“WHERE IS THE WORLD?”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The sublimity of which query is manifestly insisted on by the +author, by his having it printed in capitals.</p> +<p>When the curtain fell, there arose an uproarious shout for the +author; but instead of “the mantle of the Elizabethan +poets,” which, it has been said, he commonly wears, the most +attractive garment that met the view was an expansive white +waistcoat. This latter exhibition concluded the entertainments, +strictly so called; for though a farce followed, it turned out a +terrible bore.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>CONCERTS D’ETE.</h3> +<p>If the advance of musical science is to be effected by indecent +<em>tableaux vivans</em>—by rattling peas against sieves, and +putting out the lights (appropriately enough) when Beethoven is +being murdered—by the most contemptible class of compositions +that ever was put upon score-paper, and noised forth from an +ill-disciplined band—if these be the means towards improving +musical taste, Monsieur Jullien is undoubtedly the harmonic +regenerator of this country. He is a great man—great in his +own estimation—great to the ends of his moustachios and the +tips of his gloves—a great composer, and a great +charlatan—<em>ex. gr.</em>:—</p> +<p>The overture to the promenade concerts usually consists of a +pantomime entirely new to an English audience. Monsieur Jullien +having made his appearance in the orchestra, seats himself in a +conspicuous situation, to indulge the ladies with the most +favourable view of his elegant person, and the splendid +gold-chainery which is spread all over his magnificent waistcoat. A +servant in livery then appears, and presents him with a pair of +white kid gloves. The illustrious conductor, having taken some time +to thrust them upon a very large and red hand, leisurely takes up +his baton, rises, grins upon the expectant musicians, lifts his +arm, and—the first chord is struck!</p> +<p>Quadrilles are the staple of the evening—those composed by +Monsieur Jullien always, of course, claiming precedence and +preference. These are usually interspersed with solos on the +flageolet, to contrast with <em>obligati</em> for the ophecleido; +the drummers—side, long, and double—are seldom +inactive; the trombones and trumpets have no sinecure, and there is +always a great mortality amongst the fiddle-strings. Eight bars of +impossible variation is sure to be succeeded by sixteen of the +deafening fanfare of trumpets, combined with smashing cymbalism, +and dreadful drumming.</p> +<p>The public have a taste for headaches, and Jullien has imported +a capital recipe for creating them; they applaud—he bows; and +musical taste goes—in compliment to the ex-waiter’s +genuine profession of man-cook—to <em>pot</em>.</p> +<p>But the <em>ci-devant cuisinier</em> is not content with +comparatively harmless, plain-sailing humbug; he must add some +<em>sauce piquante</em> to his musical hashes. He cannot rest with +merely stunning English ears, but must shock our morals, At the +<em>bals masqués</em>, the French dancers, and the hardly +mentionable <em>cancan</em>, were hooted back to their native stews +under the Palais Royal; but he provides substitutes for them in the +<em>tableaux vivans</em> now exhibiting. This, because a more +insidious, is a safer introduction. The living figures are dressed +to imitate plaster-of-Paris, and are so arranged as to form groups, +called in the bills “classical;” but for which it would +be difficult to find originals. In short, the whole thing is a +feeler thrown out to see how far French impudence and French +epicureanism in vice may carry themselves. It shall not be our +fault if they do not experience an ignominious downfall, and beat a +speedy retreat, to the tune of the “Rogue’s +March,” arranged as a quadrille!</p> +<hr /> +<h3>MADAME TUSSAUD’S,</h3> +<h4>THE REAL TEMPLE OF FAME.</h4> +<div class="note"> +<p>“Some men are born to greatness, some men achieve +greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon +them.”—SHAKSPEARE.</p> +</div> +<p>Reader, should you doubt the above assertion, in the true +showman phraseology, just “Walk up! walk up!” to Madame +Tussaud’s, the real Temple of Fame, and let such doubts +vanish for ever; convince yourselves that the mighty attribute not +more survives from good than evil deeds, though, like poverty, it +makes its votaries acquainted with the strangest of strange +bedfellows! The regal ermine and the murderer’s fustian alike +obtain their enviable niche.</p> +<p>The likeness of departed majesty, robed in the matchless +splendour of a ruler’s state, redolent with all the mimic +glories of a king’s insignia, the modelled puppet from the +senseless clay, that wore in life the imperial purple, and moved a +breathing thing, chief actor in its childish mummeries, may here be +seen shining in tinselled pomp, in glittering contrast to the +blood-stained shirt through which the dagger of Ravaillac reached +the bosom of the murdered Henry.</p> +<p>The “Real Robes” of the dead George give value to +his waxen image! The heart’s-blood of the slaughtered Henry +immortalises the linen bearing its hideous stain. The daring leader +of France’s countless hosts—the wholesale slaughterer +of unnumbered thousands—ambition’s mightiest +son—now ruling kingdoms and now ruled by one—once more +than king—in death the captive of his hated +foes—“the great Napoleon!” shares the small space +with the enshrined Fieschi!</p> +<p>The glorious triumphs of the mighty Wellington are here no +better passports than the foul murders of the atrocious Burke; the +subtle Talleyrand, the deep deviser of political schemes, ruler of +rulers, and master mover of the earth’s great puppets, is not +one jot superior to the Italian mountebank, whose well-skilled hand +drew tones from catgut rivalling even the ideal trumpet of great +Fame herself!</p> +<p>By some strange anomaly, <em>success</em> and <em>failure</em> +alike render the candidates admissible—no matter the +littleness of the source from whence they sprung. Lord +Melbourne’s “premiership” gave shape to the all +but Promethean wax. The failure of John Frost, his humble follower, +secured his right to Fame’s posthumous honours. All +partiality is <em>here</em> forgotten. The titled premier, in the +haunts of men, may boast his monarch’s palace as his home. +The suffering felon, though <em>iron</em> binds his limbs, and eats +into his heart—though slow approaching, but sure-coming +death, makes the broad world for him a living grave, <em>here</em> +he stands, as one among the great ones of the <em>show</em>! The +amiability of Albert, that “excellent Prince,” and +therefore “<em>most</em> excellent young man,” is +ingeniously contrasted with the vices of a Greenacre, and the +villany of a <em>Hare</em>. The stern endurance and unflinching +perseverance of the zealous and single-hearted Calvin is deprived +of its exclusiveness by the more exciting and equally famous Sir +William Courtenay (<em>alias</em> Thom).</p> +<p>The thrilling recollection of the “poet peer,” and +“peerless poet,” the highly-imaginative and unrivalled +Byron, whose flood of song, poured out in one continuous stream of +varied passion-breathing fancy, is calmed by gazing on “dull +life’s antipodes,” the bandaged remnant of a dried-up +mummy!</p> +<p>Poor Mary Stuart! the beautiful, the murdered Queen of Scots, is +only parted from the “Maiden Queen,” who sealed her +doom, by the interposition of the blood-stained ruthless wretch +(England’s Eighth Harry), to whom “Bess” owed her +birth!</p> +<p>Pitt, Fox, and Canning are matched with Courvoisier, Gould, and +Collins.</p> +<p>Liston is <em>vis à vis</em> to Joe Hume, while Louis +Philippe but shares attention with the rivalling models of the +Bastille and Guillotine!</p> +<p>Verily, there is a moral in all this, “an we could but +find it out.”</p> +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +1, September 5, 1841, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 14926-h.htm or 14926-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/9/2/14926/ + +Produced by Syamanta Saikia, Jon Ingram, Barbara Tozier and the PG +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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