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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:45:40 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:45:40 -0700 |
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diff --git a/14928-h/14928-h.htm b/14928-h/14928-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3339a20 --- /dev/null +++ b/14928-h/14928-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2477 @@ +<!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 18, 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 18, 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 18, 1841 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 7, 2005 [EBook #14928] + +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" /> +<h2>SEPTEMBER 18, 1841.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page109" name="page109"></a>[pg +109]</span> +<h2>THE HEIR OF APPLEBITE.</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> +<h4>HAS A GREAT DEAL TO SAY ABOUT SOME ONE ELSE BESIDES OUR +HERO.</h4> +<div class="dropcap"><a href="images/010-01.png"><img src= +"images/010-01.png" alt="DESCRIPTION" id="img010-01" name= +"img010-01" width="100%" /></a></div> +<p><span class="hide">K</span>indness was a characteristic of +Agamemnon’s disposition, and it is not therefore a matter of +surprise that “the month”—<em>the</em> month, +<em>par excellence</em>, of “all the months i’the +kalendar”—produced a succession of those annoyances +which, in the best regulated families, are certain to be partially +experienced by the masculine progenitor. O, bachelors! be warned in +time; let not love link you to his flowery traces and draw you into +the temple of Hymen! Be not deluded by the glowing fallacies of +Anacreon and Boccaccio, but remember that they were bachelors. +There is nothing exhilarating in caudle, nor enchanting in +Kensington-gardens, when you are converted into a light porter of +children. We have been married, and are now seventy-one, and wear a +“brown George;” consequently, we have experience and +cool blood in our veins—two excellent auxiliaries in the +formation of a correct judgment in all matters connected with the +heart.</p> +<p>Our pen must have been the pinion of a wild goose, or why these +continued digressions?</p> +<p>Agamemnon’s troubles commenced with the first cough of +Mrs. Pilcher on the door-mat. Mrs. P. was the monthly nurse, and +monthly nurses always have a short cough. Whether this phenomenon +arises from the obesity consequent upon arm-chairs and good living, +or from an habitual intimation that they are present, and have not +received half-a-crown, or a systematic declaration that the throat +is dry, and would not object to a gargle of gin, and perhaps a +little water, or—but there is no use hunting conjecture, when +you are all but certain of not catching it.</p> +<p>Mrs. Pilcher was “the moral of a nurse;” she was +about forty-eight and had, according to her own account, +“been the mother of eighteen lovely babes, born in +wedlock,” though her most intimate friends had never been +introduced to more than one young gentleman, with a nose like a +wart, and hair like a scrubbing-brush. When he made his +<em>debut</em>, he was attired in a suit of blue drugget, with the +pewter order of the parish of St. Clement on his bosom; and rumour +declared that he owed his origin to half-a-crown a week, paid every +Saturday. Mrs. Pilcher weighed about thirteen stone, including her +bundle, and a pint medicine-bottle, which latter article she +invariably carried in her dexter pocket, filled with a strong +tincture of juniper berries, and extract of cloves. This mixture +had been prescribed to her for what she called a +“sinkingness,” which afflicted her about 10 A.M., 11 +A.M. (dinner), 2 P.M., 3 P.M. 4 P.M. 5 P.M. (tea), 7 P.M., 8 P.M. +(supper), 10 P.M., and at uncertain intervals during the night.</p> +<p>Mrs. Pilcher was a martyr to a delicate appetite, for she could +never “make nothing of a breakfast if she warn’t coaxed +with a Yarmouth bloater, a rasher of ham, or a little bit of steak +done with the gravy in.”</p> +<p>Her luncheon was obliged to be a mutton-chop, or a grilled bone, +and a pint of porter, bread and cheese having the effect of +rendering her “as cross as two sticks, and as sour as +werjuice.” Her dinner, and its satellites, tea and supper, +were all required to be hot, strong, and comfortable. A peculiar +hallucination under which she laboured is worthy of remark. When +eating, it was always her declared conviction that she <em>never +drank anything</em>, and when detected coquetting with a pint pot +or a tumbler, she was equally assured that she never <em>did eat +anything after her breakfast</em>.</p> +<p>Mrs. Pilcher’s duties never permitted her to take anything +resembling continuous rest; she had therefore another prescription +for an hour’s doze after dinner. Mrs. Pilcher was also +troubled with a stiffness of the knee-joints, which never allowed +her to wait upon herself.</p> +<p>When this amiable creature had deposited herself in +Collumpsion’s old easy-chair, and, with her bundle on her +knees, gasped out her first inquiry—</p> +<p>“I hopes all’s as well as can be +expected?”</p> +<p>The heart of <em>Pater</em> Collumpsion trembled in his bosom, +for he felt that to this incongruous mass was to be confided the +first blossom of his wedded love; and that for one month the +dynasty of 24, Pleasant-terrace was transferred from his hands to +that of Mrs. Waddledot, his wife’s mother, and Mrs. Pilcher, +the monthly nurse. There was a short struggle for supremacy between +the two latter personages; but an angry appeal having been made to +Mrs. Applebite, by the lady, “who had <em>nussed</em> the +first families in this land, and, in course, know’d her +business,” Mrs. Waddledot was forced to yield to Mrs. +Pilcher’s bundle in <em>transitu</em>, and Mrs. +Applebite’s hysterics in perspective.</p> +<p>Mrs. Pilcher was a nursery Macauley, and had the faculty of +discovering latent beauties in very small infants, that none but +doting parents ever believed. Agamemnon was an early convert to her +avowed opinions of the heir of Applebite, who, like all other heirs +of the same age, resembled a black boy boiled—that is, if +there is any affinity between lobsters and niggers. This peculiar +style of eloquence rendered her other eccentricities less +objectionable; and when, upon one occasion, the mixture of juniper +and cloves had disordered her head, instead of comforting her +stomachic regions, she excused herself by solemnly declaring, that +“the brilliancy of the little darling’s eyes, and his +intoxicating manners, had made her feel as giddy as a goose.” +Collumpsion and Theresa both declared her discernment was equal to +her caudle, of which, by-the-bye, she was an excellent concocter +and consumer.</p> +<p>Old John and the rest of the servants, however, had no parental +string at which Mrs. Pilcher could tug, and the consequence was, +that they decided that she was an insufferable bore. Old John, in +particular, felt the ill effects of the heir of Applebite’s +appearance in the family, and to such a degree did they interfere +with his old comforts, without increasing his pecuniary resources, +that he determined one morning, when taking up his master’s +shaving water, absolutely to give warning; for what with the +morning calls, and continual ringing for glasses—the +perpetual communication kept up between the laundry-maid and the +mangle, and of which he was the circulating medium—the +insolence of the nurse, who had ordered him to carry five +soiled—never mind—down stairs: all these annoyances +combined, the old servant declared were too much for him.</p> +<p>Collumpsion laid his hand on John’s shoulder, and pointing +to some of the little evidences of paternity which had found their +way even into his dormitory, said, “John, think what I +suffer; do not leave me; I’ll raise your wages, and engage a +boy to help you; but you are the only thing that reminds me of my +happy bachelorhood—you are the only one that can feel +a—feel a—”</p> +<p>“<em>Caudle</em> regard,” interrupted John.</p> +<p>“Caudle be ——.” The “rest is +silence,” for at that moment Mrs. Waddledot entered the room, +gave a short scream, and went out again.</p> +<p>The month passed, and a hackney-coach, containing a bundle and +the respectable Mrs. Pilcher, &c., rumbled from the door of No. +24, to the infinite delight of old John the footman, Betty the +housemaid, Esther the nurserymaid, Susan the cook, and Agamemnon +Collumpsion Applebite the proprietor.</p> +<p>How transitory is earthly happiness! How certain its +uncertainty! A little week had passed, and the “Heir of +Applebite” gave notice of his intention to come into his +property during an early minority, for his once happy progenitor +began to entertain serious intentions of employing a +coroner’s jury to sit upon himself, owing to the incessant +and “ear-piercing pipe” of his little cherub. Vainly +did he bury his head beneath the pillow, until he was suffused with +perspiration—the cry reached him there and then. Cold air was +pumped into the bed by Mrs. Applebite, as she rocked to and fro, in +the hope of quieting the “son of the sleepless.” +Collumpsion was in constant communication with the +dressing-table—now for moist-sugar to stay the +hiccough—then for dill-water to allay the stomach-ache. To +save his little cherub from convulsions, twice was he converted +into a night-patrole, with the thermometer below zero—a bad +fire, with a large slate in it, and an empty coal-scuttle.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>SURREY ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS.</h3> +<p>“Variety,” say our school copy-books, “is +charming;” hence this must be the most charming place of +amusement in London. The annexed list of entertainments was +produced on Tuesday last, when were added to the usual +<em>passe-temps</em>, a flower and fruit show. Wild beasts in +cages; flowers of all colours and sizes in pots; enormous cabbages; +Brobdignag apples; immense sticks of rhubarb; a view of Rome; a +brass band; a grand Roman cavalcade passing over the bridge of St. +Angelo; a deafening park of artillery, and an enchanting series of +pyrotechnic wonders, such as catherine-wheels, flower-pots, and +rockets; an illumination of St. Peter’s; blazes of blue-fire, +showers of steel-filings, and a grand blow up of the castle of St. +Angelo.</p> +<p>Such are the entertainments provided by the proprietor. The +company—which numbered at least from five to six +thousand—gave them even greater variety. Numerous pic-nic +parties were seated about on the grass; sandwiches, bottled stout, +and (with reverence be it spoken) more potent liquors seemed to be +highly relished, especially by the ladies. Ices were sold at a +pastry-cook’s stall, where a continued <em>feu-de-joie</em> +of ginger-pop was kept up during the whole afternoon and evening. +In short, the scene was one of complete <em>al fresco</em> +enjoyment; how could it be otherwise? The flowers delighted the +eye; Mr. Godfrey’s well-trained band (to wit, +Beethoven’s symphony in C minor, with all the fiddle passages +beautifully executed upon clarionets!) charmed the ear; and the +edibles and drinkables aforesaid the palate. Under such a press of +agreeables, the Surrey Zoological Gardens well deserve the name of +an Englishman’s paradise.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page110" name="page110"></a>[pg +110]</span> +<h2>ON THE SCIENCE OF ELECTIONEERING.</h2> +<p>To the progress of science and the rapid march of moral +improvement the most effectual spur that has ever been applied was +the Reform Bill. Before the introduction of that measure, +electioneering was a simple process, hardly deserving the name of +an art; it has now arrived at the rank of a science, the great +beauty of which is, that, although complicated in practice, it is +most easy of acquirement. Under the old system boroughs were bought +by wholesale, scot and lot; now the traffic is done by retail. +Formerly there was but one seller; at present there must be some +thousands at least—all to be bargained with, all to be +bought. Thus the “agency” business of electioneering +has wonderfully increased, and so have the expenses.</p> +<p>In fact, an agent is to an election what the main-spring is to a +watch; he is, in point of fact, the real returning-officer. His +importance is not less than the talents and tact he is obliged to +exert. He must take a variety of shapes, must tell a variety of +lies, and perform the part of an animated contradiction. He must +benevolently pay the taxes of one man who can’t vote while in +arrear; and cruelly serve notices of ejectment upon another, though +he can show his last quarter’s receipt—he must attend +temperance meetings, and make opposition electors too drunk to +vote. He must shake hands with his greatest enemy, and +<em>palm</em> off upon him lasting proofs of friendship, and +silver-paper hints which way to vote. He must make flaming speeches +about principle, puns about “interest,” and promises +concerning everything, to everybody. He must never give less than +five pounds for being shorn by an honest and independent voter, who +never shaves for less than two-pence—nor under ten, for a +four-and-ninepenny goss to an uncompromising hatter. He must +present ear-rings to wives, bracelets to daughters, and be +continually broaching a hogshead for fathers, husbands, and +brothers. He must get up fancy balls, and give away fancy dresses +to ladies whom he fancies—especially if they fancy his +candidate, and their husbands fancy them. He must plan charities, +organise mobs, causing free-schools to be knocked up, and opponents +to be knocked down. Finally, he must do all these acts, and spend +all these sums purely for the good of his country; for, although a +select committee of the house tries the validity of the +election—though they prove bribery, intimidation, and +treating to everybody’s satisfaction, yet they always find +out that the candidate has had nothing to do with it—that the +agent is not <em>his</em> agent, but has acted solely on patriotic +grounds; by which he is often so completely a martyr, that he is, +after all, actually prosecuted for bribery, by order of the very +house which he has helped to fill, and by the very man (as a part +of the parliament) he has himself returned.</p> +<p>That this great character might not be lost to posterity, we +furnish our readers with the portrait of</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/010-02.png"><img src= +"images/010-02.png" alt= +"A man made of a whisky barrel (Best British), 'Cheap Bread', etc., standing on a banner marked 'Independence'." +id="img010-02" name="img010-02" width="80%" /></a> +<p>AN ELECTION AGENT.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE STATISTICAL SOCIETY.</h3> +<p>This useful society will shortly publish its Report; and, though +we have not seen it, we are enabled to guess with tolerable +accuracy what will be the contents of it:</p> +<p>In the first place, we shall be told the number of pins picked +up in the course of the day, by a person walking over a space of +fifteen miles round London, with the number of those not picked up; +an estimate of the class of persons that have probably dropped +them, with the use they were being put to when they actually fell; +and how they have been applied afterwards.</p> +<p>The Report will also put the public in possession of the number +of pot-boys employed in London; what is the average number of pots +they carry out; and what is the gross weight of metal in the pots +brought back again. This interesting head will include a +calculation of how much beer is consumed by children who are sent +to fetch it in jugs; and what is the whole amount of malt liquor, +the value of which reaches the producer’s pocket, while the +mouth of the consumer, and not that of the party paying for it, +receives the sole benefit.</p> +<p>There are also to be published with the Report elaborate tables, +showing how many quarts of milk are spilt in the course of a year +in serving customers; what proportion of water it contains; and +what are the average ages and breed of the dogs who lap it up; and +how much is left unlapped up to be absorbed in the atmosphere.</p> +<p>When this valuable Report is published, we shall make copious +extracts.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A NOVEL ENTERTAINMENT.</h3> +<h4>DRURY-LANE THEATRE.</h4> +<p>Novelty is certainly the order of the day. Anything that does +not deviate from the old beaten track meets with little +encouragement from the present race of amusement-seekers, and, +consequently, does not pay the <em>entrepreneur</em>. Nudity in +public adds fresh charms to the orchestra, and red-fire and +crackers have become absolutely essential to harmony. Acting upon +this principle, Signor Venafra <em>gave</em> (we admire the term) a +fancy dress ball at Drury-lane Theatre on Monday evening last, upon +a plan hitherto unknown in England, but possibly, like the majority +of deceptive delusions now so popular, of continental origin. The +whole of the evening’s entertainment took place in cabs and +hackney-coaches, and those vehicles performed several perfectly new +and intricate figures in Brydges-street, and the other +thoroughfares adjoining the theatres. The music provided for the +occasion appeared to be an organ-piano, which performed incessantly +at the corner of Bow-street, during the evening. Most of the +<em>élite</em> of Hart-street and St. Giles’s graced +the animated pavement as spectators. So perfectly successful was +the whole affair—on the word of laughing hundreds who came +away saying they had never been so amused in their lives—that +we hear it is in agitation never to attempt anything of the kind +again.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>DONE AGAIN.</h3> +<p>Dunn, the bailless barrister, complained to his friend Charles +Phillips, that upon the last occasion he had the happiness of +meeting Miss Burdett Coutts on the Marine Parade, notwithstanding +all he has gone through for her, she would not condescend to take +the slightest notice of him. So far from offering anything in the +shape of consolation, the witty barrister remarked, “Upon my +soul, her conduct was in perfect keeping with her situation, for +what on earth could be more in unison with a sea-view than</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/010-03.png"><img src= +"images/010-03.png" alt="A man carves 'Snooks' into a tree." id= +"img010-03" name="img010-03" width="40%" /></a> +<p>A CUTTER ON THE BEACH?”</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<p>It is well known that the piers of Westminster Bridge have +considerably sunk since their first erection. They are not the only +peers, in the same neighbourhood that have become lowered in the +position they once occupied.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page111" name="page111"></a>[pg +111]</span> +<h2>ASSERTION OF THE UNINTELLIGIBLE.</h2> +<h3>OR, “A KANTITE’S” FLIGHTS AT AN +EXORDIUM.</h3> +<h4>FLIGHT THE FIRST.</h4> +<p>He who widely, yet ascensively, expatiates in those +in-all-ways-sloping fields of metaphysical investigation which +perplex whilst they captivate, and bewilder whilst they allure, +cannot evitate the perception of perception’s fallibility, +nor avoid the conclusion (if that can be called a conclusion to +which, it may be said, there are no premises extant) that the +external senses are but deceptive <em>media</em> of interior mental +communication. It behoves the ardent, youthful explorator, +therefore, to ——, &c. &c.</p> +<h4>FLIGHT THE SECOND.</h4> +<p>In the Promethean persecutions which assail the insurgent +mentalities of the youth and morning vigour of the inexpressible +human soul, when, flushed with Æolian light, and, as it were, +beaded with those lustrous dews which the eternal Aurora lets fall +from her melodious lip; if it escape living from the beak of the +vulture (no fable here!), then, indeed, it may aspire to +——, &c. &c.</p> +<h4>FLIGHT THE THIRD.</h4> +<p>If, with waxen Icarian wing, we seek to ascend to that skiey +elevation whence only can the understretching regions of an +impassive mutability be satisfactorily contemplated; and if, in our +heterogeneous ambition, aspirant above self-capacity, we approach +too near the flammiferous Titan, and so become pinionless, and +reduced again to an earthly prostration, what marvel is it, that +——, &c. &c.</p> +<h4>FLIGHT THE FOURTH.</h4> +<p>When the perennial Faustus, ever-resident in the questioning +spirit of immortal man, attempts his first outbreak into the domain +of unlimited inquiry, unless he take heed of the needfully-cautious +prudentialities of mundane observance, there infallibly attends him +a fatal Mephistophelean influence, of which the malign tendency, +from every conclusion of eventuality, is to plunge him into +perilous vast cloud-waves of the dream-inhabited vague. Let, then, +the young student of infinity ——, &c. &c.</p> +<h4>FLIGHT THE FIFTH.</h4> +<p>Inarched within the boundless empyrean of thought, starry with +wonder, and constellate with investigation; at one time obfuscated +in the abysm-born vapours of doubt; at another, radiant with the +sun-fires of faith made perfect by fruition; it can amaze no +considerative fraction of humanity, that the explorer of the +indefinite, the searcher into the not-to-be-defined, should, at +dreary intervals, invent dim, plastic riddles of his own identity, +and hesitate at the awful shrine of that dread interrogatory +alternative—reality, or dream? This deeply pondering, let the +eager beginner in the at once linear and circumferent course of +philosophico-metaphysical contemplativeness, introductively assure +himself that ——, &c. &c.</p> +<h4>FINAL FLIGHT.</h4> +<p>As, “in the silence and overshadowing of that night whose +fitful meteoric fires only herald the descent of a superficial fame +into lasting oblivion, the imbecile and unavailing resistance which +is made against the doom must often excite our pity for the +pampered child of market-gilded popularity;” and as “it +is not with such feelings that we behold the dark thraldom and +long-suffering of true intellectual strength,” of which the +“brief, though frequent, soundings beneath the earthly +pressure will be heard even amidst the din of flaunting crowds, or +the solemn conclaves of common-place minds,” of which the +“obscured head will often shed forth ascending beams that can +only be lost in eternity;” and of which the “mighty +struggles to upheave its own weight, and that of the superincumbent +mass of prejudice, envy, ignorance, folly, or uncongenial force, +must ever ensure the deepest sympathy of all those who can +appreciate the spirit of its qualities;” let the initiative +skyward struggles towards the zenith-abysses of the inane +impalpable ——, &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. +&c.</p> +<p><em>Dramatic Authors’ Theatre, Sept. 16, 1841.</em></p> +<hr /> +<h3>HUMANE SUGGESTION.</h3> +<p>MASTER PUNCH,—Mind ye’s, I’ve been to see +these here <em>Secretens</em> at the English Uproar ’Ouse, +and thinks, mind ye’s, they aint by no means the werry best +Cheshire; but what I want to know is this here—Why +don’t they give that wenerable old genelman, Mr. Martinussy, +the Hungry Cardinal, something to eat?—he is a continually +calling out for some of his Countrys Weal, (which, I dare say, were +werry good) and he don’t never git so much as a sandvich +dooring the whole of his life and death—I mention dese tings, +because, mind ye’s, it aint werry kind of none on +‘em.</p> +<p class="cen">I remains, Mr. PUNCH, Sir, yours truly,</p> +<p class="rgt">DEF BURKE,</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/010-04.png"><img src= +"images/010-04.png" alt="A man with a nasty black eye." id= +"img010-04" name="img010-04" width="30%" /></a> +<p>HIS MARK.</p> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE STATUE OF GEORGE CANNING AND SIR ROBERT +PEEL.</h2> +<p>The new Premier was taking a solitary stroll the other evening +through Palace-yard, meditating upon the late turn which had +brought the Tories to the top of the wheel and the Whigs to the +bottom, and pondering on the best ways and means of keeping his +footing in the slippery position that had cost him so much labour +to attain. While thus employed, with his eyes fixed on the ground, +and his hands buried in his breeches-pockets, he heard a voice at +no great distance, calling in familiar tone—</p> +<p>“Bob! Bob!—I say, Bob!”</p> +<p>The alarmed Baronet stopped, and looked around him to discover +the speaker, when, casting his eyes upon the statue of George +Canning in the enclosure of Westminster Abbey, he was astonished to +perceive it nodding its head at him, like the statue in “Don +Giovanni,” in a “How d’ye do?” kind of way. +Sir Robert, who, since his introduction to the Palace, has grown +perilously polite, took off his hat, and made a low bow to the +figure.</p> +<p>STATUE.—Bah! no nonsense, Bob, with me! Put on your hat, +and come over here, close to the railings, while I have a little +private confab with you. So, you have been called in at last?</p> +<p>PEEL.—Yes. Her Majesty has done me the honour to command +my services; and actuated by a sincere love of my country, I obeyed +the wishes of my Royal Mistress, and accepted office; though, if I +had consulted my own inclinations, I should have preferred the +quiet path of private—</p> +<p>STATUE.—Humbug! You forget yourself, Bob; you are not now +at Tamworth, or in the house, but talking to an old hand that knows +every move on the political board,—you need have no disguise +with me. Come, be candid for once, and tell me, what are your +intentions?</p> +<p>PEEL.—Why, then, candidly, to keep my place as long as I +can—</p> +<p>STATUE.—Undoubtedly; that is the first duty of every +patriotic minister! But the means, Bob?</p> +<p>PEEL—Oh! Cant—cant—nothing but cant! I shall +talk of my feeling for the wants of the people, while I pick their +pockets; bestow my pity upon the manufacturers, while I tax the +bread that feeds their starving families; and proclaim my sympathy +with the farmers, while I help the arrogant landlords to grind them +into the dust.</p> +<p>STATUE.—Ah! I perceive yon understand the true principles +of legislation. Now, <em>I</em> once really felt what you only +feign. In my time, I attempted to carry out my ideas of +amelioration, and wanted to improve the moral and physical +condition of the people, but—</p> +<p>PEEL.—You failed. Few gave you credit for purely patriotic +motives—and still fewer believed you to be sincere in your +professions. Now, <em>my</em> plan is much easier, and safer. Give +the people fair promises—they don’t cost much—but +nothing besides promises; the moment you attempt to realise the +hopes you have raised, that moment you raise a host of enemies +against yourself.</p> +<p>STATUE.—But if you make promises, the nation will demand a +fulfilment of them.</p> +<p>PEEL.—I have an answer ready for all +comers—“Wait awhile!” ’Tis a famous soother +for all impatient grumblers. It kept the Whigs in office for ten +years, and I see no reason why it should not serve our turn as +long. Depend upon it, “Wait awhile” is the great secret +of Government.</p> +<p>STATUE.—Ah! I believe you are right. I now see that I was +only a novice in the trade of politics. By the bye, Bob, I +don’t at all like my situation here; ’tis really very +uncomfortable to be exposed to all weathers—scorched in +summer, and frost-nipped in winter. Though I am only a statue, I +feel that I ought to be protected.</p> +<p>PEEL.—Undoubtedly, my dear sir. What can I do for you?</p> +<p>STATUE.—Why, I want to get into the Abbey, St. +Paul’s, or Drury Lane. Anywhere out of the open air.</p> +<p>PEEL.—Say no more—it shall be done. I am only too +happy to have it in my power to serve the statue of a man to whom +his country is so deeply indebted.</p> +<p>STATUE.—But <em>when</em> shall it be done, Bob? +To-morrow?</p> +<p>PEEL.—Not precisely to-morrow; but—</p> +<p>STATUE.—Next week, then?</p> +<p>PEEL.—I can’t say; but don’t be +impatient—rely on my promise, and <em>wait awhile, wait +awhile</em>, my dear friend. Good night.</p> +<p>STATUE.—Oh! confound your <em>wait awhile</em>. I see I +have nothing to expect.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE BEAUTY OF BRASS.</h3> +<p>Tom Duncombe declares he never passes McPhail’s +imitative-gold mart without thinking of Ben D’Israeli’s +speeches, as both of them are so confoundedly full of fantastic</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/010-05.png"><img src= +"images/010-05.png" alt="A man wearing three hats." id="img010-05" +name="img010-05" width="30%" /></a> +<p>MOSAIC ORNAMENTS.</p> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page112" name="page112"></a>[pg +112]</span> +<h2>PUNCH AT THE ART-UNION EXHIBITION AGAIN</h2> +<p>Limited space in our last number prevented our noticing any +other than the Sleeping Beauty; and, as there are many other +humorous productions possessing equal claims to our attention in +the landscape and other departments of art, we shall herein +endeavour to point out their characteristics—more for the +advantage of future purchasers than for the better and further +edification of those whose meagre notions and tastes have already +been shown. And as the Royal Academicians, par courtesy, demand our +first notice, we shall, having wiped off D. M’Clise, R.A., +now proceed, baton in hand, to make a few pokes at W.F. +Witherington, R.A., upon his work entitled “Winchester Tower, +Windsor Castle, from Romney Lock.”</p> +<p>This is a subject which has been handled many times within our +recollection, by artists of less name, less fame, and less +pretensions to notice, if we except the undeniable fact of their +displaying infinitely more ability in their representations of the +subject, than can by any possibility be discovered in the one by W. +F. Witherington, R.A. If our remarks were made with an affectionate +eye to the young ladies of the satin-album-loving school, we should +assuredly style this “a duck of a picture”—one +after their own hearts—treated in mild and undisturbed tones +of yellow, blue, and pink—and what yellows! what blues! and +what pinks! Some kind, superintending genius of landscape-painting +evidently prepared the scene for W.F. Witherington, R.A. It +displays nothing of the vulgar every-day look of nature, as seen at +Romney Lock, or any other spot; not a pebble out of its +place—not a leaf deranged—here are bright amber trees, +and blue metallic towers, prepared gravel-walks, and figures nicely +cleaned and bleached to suit; it is, in truth, the most genteel +landscape ever looked on. Nothing but absolute needlework can +create more wonderment. Fie! fie! get thee hence, W.F. +Witherington, R.A.</p> +<p>Just placed over the last-mentioned picture, and, doubtlessly so +arranged that the gentle R.A. should find that, although his bright +specimen of mild murder may be adjudged the worst in the +collection, still there are others worthy of being classed in the +same order of oddities. Behold No. 19, entitled, +“Landscape—Evening—J.F. Gilbert,” and +selected by Mr. John Bullock from the Royal Academy. +“What’s in a name?” In the charitable hope that +there is a chance of this purchaser being toned down in the course +of time, after the same manner that pictures are, and, by that +process, display more sobriety, we most humbly offer to Mr. B. our +modest judgment upon his selection (not upon his choice, but upon +the thing chosen). That it is a landscape we gloomily admit; but +that it represents “Evening” we steadily deny. The +exact period of the day, after much puzzling and deliberation, we +cannot arrive at; one thing yet we are assured of—that it has +been painted in company with a clock that was either too fast or +too slow. The composition, which has very much the appearance of +the by-gone century, is a prime selection from the finest parts of +those very serene views to be found adorning the lowest interiors +of wash-hand basins, with a dash from the works of Smith of +Chichester, whose mental elevation in his profession was only +surpassed by the high finish of his apple-trees, and the elaborate +nothingness of his general choice of subject. In the foreground of +the picture, the artist has, however, most aptly introduced the two +vagabonds invariably to be seen idling in the foregrounds of +landscapes of this class—two rascally scouts who have put in +appearance from time immemorial; they are here just as in the works +alluded to, the one sitting, the other of course standing, and +courteously bending to receive the remarks of his friend. By the +side of the stream, which flows through (or rather takes up) the +middle of the picture, and immediately opposite to the two +everlastings, is a little plain-looking agriculturist, who appears +to be watching them. He is in the careless and ever-admitted +picturesque position of leaning over a garden fence; but whether +the invariables are aware of the little gentleman, and are +consequently conversing in an undertone, we leave every beholder to +speculate and settle for himself. Behind the worthy small farmer, +and coming from the door of his residence, most cleverly +introduced, is his wife (we know it to represent the wife, from the +clear fact of the lady’s appearance being typical of the +gentleman’s), who is in the act of observing that the +children are waiting his presence at table, and adding, no doubt, +that he had better come in and assist her in the cabbage-and-bacon +duties of the repast, than lose his time and annoy the family.</p> +<p>We must now draw the spectator from the above-mentioned objects +to a little piscatorial sportsman, who, apart from them, and in the +retirement of his own thoughts upon worms, ground-bait, and catgut, +lends his aid, together with a lively little amateur waterman, +paddling about in a little boat, selfishly built to hold none other +than himself—a hill rising in the middle ground, and two or +three minor editions of the same towards the distance, carefully +dotted with trees, after the fashion of a ready-made portable park +from the toy <em>depot</em> in the Lowther Arcade—two +bee-hives, a water-mill, some majestic smoke, something that looks +like a skein of thread thrown over a mountain, and the memorable +chiaro-scuro, form the interesting episodes of this glorious essay +in the epic pastoral.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>SYNCRETIC LITERATURE</h2> +<p class="note"><em>Observations on the Epic Poem of Giles +Scroggins and Molly Brown—resumed.</em></p> +<p>The fatal operation of the unavoidable, ever-impending, ruthless +shears of the stern controller of human destiny, and curtailer of +human life—the action by which</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Fate’s scissors cut Giles Scroggins’ +thread,”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>or rather the thread of Giles Scroggins’ life, at once and +most completely establishes the wholesome moral as to the fearful +uncertainty of all sublunary anticipations, and stands forth a +beautiful beacon to warn the over-weaning “worldly +wisemen” from their often too-fondly-cherished dreams of +realising, by their own means and appliances, the darling projects +of their ambitious hopes!</p> +<p>The immediate effect of the operation performed by Fate’s +scissors, or rather by Fate herself—as she was the great and +absolute disposer—to whom the implement employed was but a +matter of fancy; for had Fate so chosen, a bucket, a bowie-knife, a +brick-bat, a black cap, or a box of patent pills, might, as well as +her destructive shears, have made a tenant for a yawning grave of +doomed Giles Scroggins. We say, the immediate effect arising from +this cutting cause was one in which both parties—the living +bride and defunct bridegroom—were equally concerned, their +lover’s co-partnership rendering each liable for the acts or +accidents of the other; therefore as may be (and we think is) +clearly established, under these circumstances,</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“They could <em>not</em> be <em>mar-ri</em>-ed!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>There is something deliciously affecting in the beautiful +drawing out of the last syllable!—it seems like the lingering +of the heart’s best feelings upon the blighted prospects of +its purest joys!—the ceremony that would have completed the +union of the loving maiden and admiring swain, blending, as it +were, like the twin prongs of a brass-bound toasting-fork, their +interests in one common cause. The ceremony of love’s +concentration can never be performed! but the heart-feeling poet +extends each tiny syllable even to its utmost stretch, that the +tear-dropping reader may, while gulping down his sympathies, make +at least a handsome mouthful of the word.</p> +<p>We now approach, with considerable awe, a portion of our task to +which we beg to call the undivided attention of our erudite +readers. Upon referring to the original black-letter quarto, we +find, after each particular sentence, the author introduces, with +consummate tact, a line, meant, as we presume, as a kind of +literary resting-place, upon which the delighted mind might, in the +sweet indulgence of repose, reflect with greater pleasure on the +thrilling parts, made doubly thrilling by the poet’s fire. +The diversity of these, if we may so express them, “camp +stools” of imagination, is worthy of remark, both as to their +application and amplitude. For instance, after <em>one</em> line, +and that if perused with attention, comparatively less abstruse +than its fellows, the gifted poet satisfies himself with the +insertion of three sonorous, but really simple syllables, they are +invariably at follows—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Too-ral-loo!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>But when <em>two</em> lines of the poem—burning with +thought, bursting with action—entrance by their sublimity the +enraptured reader, greater time is given, and more extended +accommodation for a mental sit-down is afforded in the elaborate +and elongated composition of</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Whack! fol-de-riddle lol-de-day!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>These introductions are of a high classic origin. Many +professors of eminence have quarrelled as to whether they were not +the original of the “Greek chorus;” while others, of +equal erudition, have as stoutly maintained, though closely +approximating in character and purpose, they are not the +“originals,” but imitations, and decidedly admirable +ones, from those celebrated poets.</p> +<p>A Mr. William Waters, a gentleman of immense travel, one who had +left the burning zone of the far East to visit the more chilling +gales of a European climate, a philosopher of the sect known as the +“Peripatetic,” a devoted follower of the heathen Nine, +whose fostering care has ever been devoted to the tutelage of the +professors of sweet sounds; and therefore Waters was a high +authority, declared in the peculiar <em>patois</em> attendant upon +the pronunciation of a foreign mode of speech—that</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Too-ral-loo”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>was to catch him wind! And</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Whack! fol-de-riddle lol-de-day,”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>to let “um rosin up him fuddlestick!” These +deductions are practical, if not poetical; but these are but the +emanations from the brain of one—hundreds of other +commentators differ from his view.</p> +<p>The most erudite linguists are excessively puzzled as to the +nation whose peculiar language has been resorted to for these +singular and unequalled introductions. The</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Too-ral-loo”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>has been given up in despair. The nearest solution was that of +an eminent arithmetician, who conjectured from the word too +(Anglice, <em>two</em>)—and the use of the four +cyphers—those immediately following the T and L—that +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page113" name="page113"></a>[pg +113]</span> they were intended to convey some notion of the +personal property of Giles Scroggins or Molly Brown (he never made +up his mind which of the two); and merely wanted the following +marks to render them plain:—</p> +<p>T—oo (<em>two</em>)—either shillings or +pence—and L—oo: no pounds!</p> +<p>This may or may not be right, but the research and ingenuity +deserve the immortality we now confer upon it. The other line, +the</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Whack! fol-de-riddle lol-de-day!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>has, perhaps, given rise to far more controversy, with certainly +less tangible and satisfactory results.</p> +<p>The scene of the poem not being expressly stated in the original +or early black-letter translation, many persons—whose love of +country prompted their wishes—have endeavoured to attach a +nationality to these gordian knots of erudition. An Hibernian +gentleman of immense research—the celebrated “Darby +Kelly”—has openly asserted the whole affair to be +decidedly of Milesian origin: and, amid a vast number of +corroborative circumstances, strenuously insists upon the solidity +of his premises and deductions by triumphantly exclaiming, +“What, or who but an <em>Irish</em> poet and an Irish hero, +would commence a matter of so much consequence with the +soul-stirring “whack!” adopted by the great author, and +put into the mouth of his chosen hero?” Others again have +supposed—which is also far more improbable—that much of +the obscurity of the above passage has its origin from simple +mis-spelling on the part of the poet’s amanuensis—he +taking the literal dictation, forgetting the sublime author was +suffering from a cold in the head, which rendered the words in +sound—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Riddle <em>lol</em> the lay;”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>whereas they would otherwise have been pronounced—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Riddle—<em>all the day</em>”—</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>that being an absolute and positive allusion to the agricultural +pursuits of Giles Scroggins, he being generally employed by his +more wealthy master—a great agrarian of those times—in +the manly though somewhat fatiguing occupation of “riddling +all the day:” an occupation which—like this +article—was to be frequently resumed.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>A NEW THEORY OF POCKETS.</h2> +<p class="note">DEFINITION <em>Pocket</em>, s. the small bag +inserted into clothes.—WALKER (<em>a new edition, by +Hookey</em>).</p> +<p>We are great on the subject of pockets—we acknowledge +it—we avow it. From our youth upwards, and we are venerable +now, we have made them the object of untiring research, analysis, +and speculation; and if our exertions have occasionally involved us +in contingent predicaments, or our zeal laid us open to +conventional misconstructions, we console ourselves with Galileo +and Tycho Brahe, who having, like us, discovered and arranged +systems too large for the scope of the popular intellect, like us, +became the martyrs of those great principles of science which they +have immortalized themselves by teaching.</p> +<p>The result of a course of active and careful (s)peculations on +the philosophy and economy of pockets, has led us to the conviction +that their intention and use are but very imperfectly understood, +even by the intelligent and reflective section of the community. It +is, we fear, a very common error to regard them as conventional +recesses, adapted for the reception and deposit of such luxurious +additaments to the attire as are detached, yet accessory and +indispensable ministers to our comfort. Now this delusive +supposition is diametrically opposed to the truth. Pockets (we must +be plain)—pockets are not made <em>to put into</em>, but to +<em>take out of</em>; and, although it is of course necessary that, +in order to produce the result of withdrawal, they be previously +furnished with the wherewithal to withdraw, yet the process of +insertion and supply is only carried on for the purpose of +assisting the operation of the system.</p> +<p>And having, we trust, logically established this point, we shall +hazard no incautious position in asserting that the man who empties +a pocket, fulfils the object for which it was founded and +established. And although, unhappily, a prejudice still exists in +the minds of the uneducated, in favour of emptying their own +pockets themselves, it must be evident that none but a narrow mind +can take umbrage at the trifling acceleration of an event which +must inevitably occur; or would desire to appropriate the credit of +the distribution, as well as to deserve the merit of the +supply.</p> +<p>We perceive with concern and apprehension, that pockets are +gradually falling into disuse. To use the flippant idiom of the +day, they are going out! This is an alarming, as well as a +lamentable fact; and one, too, strikingly illustrative of the +degeneracy of modern fashions. Whether we ascribe the change to a +contemptuous neglect of ancestral institutions, or to an increasing +difficulty in furnishing the indispensable attributes of the +pocket, it is alike indicative of a crisis; and we confess that it +is matter of astonishment to us, that in these days of theory and +hypothesis, no man has ventured to trace the distress and the ruin +now impending over the country, to the increasing disrespect and +disuse of—pockets.</p> +<p>By way of approving our conjecture, let us contrast the garments +of the hour with those of England in the olden time—long ago, +when boards smoked and groaned under a load of good things in every +man’s house; when the rich took care of the poor, and the +poor took care of themselves; when husband and wife married for +love, and lived happily (though that must have been very long ago +indeed); the athletic yeoman proceeded to his daily toil, enveloped +in garments instinct with pockets. The ponderous watch—the +plethoric purse—the massive snuff-box—the dainty +tooth-pick—the grotesque handkerchief; all were accommodated +and cherished in the more ample recesses of his coat; while +supplementary fobs were endeared to him by their more seductive +contents: <em>as</em> ginger lozenges, love-letters, and +turnpike-tickets. Such were the days on which we should reflect +with regret; such were the men whom we should imitate and revere. +Had such a character as we have endeavoured feebly to sketch, met +an individual enveloped in a shapeless cylindrical tube of pale +Macintosh—impossible for taste—incapable of +pockets—indefinite and indefinable—we question whether +he would have regarded him in the light of a maniac, an incendiary, +or a foreign spy—whether he would not have handed him +immediately over to the exterminators of the law, as a being too +depraved, too degraded for human sympathy. And yet—for our +prolixity warns us to conclude—and yet the festering +contagion of this baneful example is now-a-days hidden under the +mask of fashion. FASHION! and has it indeed come to this? Is +fashion to trample on the best and finest feelings of our nature? +Is fashion to be permitted to invade us in our green lanes, and our +high roads, under our vines and our fig-trees, without hindrance, +and without pockets? For the sake of human nature, we hope +not—for the sake of our bleeding country, we hope not. No! +“Take care of your pockets!” is one of the earliest +maxims instilled into the youthful mind; and emphatically do we +repeat to our fellow-countrymen—Englishmen, take care of your +pockets!</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>PUNCH’S THEATRE.</h2> +<div class="dropcap"><a href="images/010-06.png"><img src= +"images/010-06.png" alt= +"A seated man blows smoke. His body and the plume form the letter C." +id="img010-06" name="img010-06" width="100%" /></a></div> +<p><span class="hide">C</span>ritics, as well as placemen, are +occasionally sinecurists, and, like the gentlemen of England +immortalised by Dibdin, are able, now and then, to “live at +home at ease”—to dine (on dining days) in comfort, not +having to rise from table to give authors or actors their dessert. +This kind of novelty in our lives takes place when managers produce +no novelties in their theatres; when authors are lazy, and actors +do not come out in new parts but are contented with wearing out old +ones—when, in short, such an eventless theatrical week as the +past one leaves us to the enjoyment of our own hookahs, and the +port of our cellar-keeping friends. The play-bills seem to have +been printed from stereotype, for, like the laws of the Medes and +Persians, they have never altered—since our last report.</p> +<p>This unexpected hot weather has visited the public with many a +“Midsummer night’s dream,” <em>although</em> it +is—and Covent Garden has opened <em>because</em> it is +September; Sheridan’s “Critic” has been very busy +there, though PUNCH’S has had nothing to do. “London +Assurance” is still seen to much advantage, and so is Madame +Vestris.</p> +<p>The Haymarket manager continues to wade knee-deep in tragedy, in +spite of the state of the weather. The fare is, however, too good +for any change in the <em>carte</em>. “Werner” forms a +substantial standing dish. The “Boarding School” makes +a most palpable <em>entrée</em>; while “Bob +Short,” and “My Friend the Captain,” serve as +excellent after-courses. The promises recorded in the Haymarket +bills are, a new tragedy by a new author, and an old comedy called +“Riches;” a certain hit, if the continued success of +“Money” be any criterion.</p> +<p>It is with feelings of the most rabid indignation that we +approach the <em>Strand Theatre</em>, and the ruthless threat its +announcements put forth of the future destruction of the only +legitimate drama that is now left amongst us; that is to say, +“PUNCH.” When Thespis and his pupil Phynicus +“came out” at the feasts of Bacchus; when +“Roscius was an actor in Rome;” when Scaramouch turned +the Materia Medica into a farce, and became a quack doctor in +Italy; when Richardson set up his show in England—all these +geniuses were peregrinate, peripatetic—their scenes were +really moving ones, their tragic woes went upon wheels, their +comedies were run through at the rate of so many miles per hour; +the entire drama was, in fact, a travelling concern. Punch, the +concentrated essence of all these, has, up to this date, preserved +the pristine purity of his peripatetic fame; he still remains on +circuit, he still retains his legitimacy. But, alas! ere this sheet +has passed through the press, while its ink is yet as wet as our +dear Judy’s eyes, he will have fallen from his high estate: +Hall will have housed him! Punch will have taken a stationary stand +at the Strand Theatre!! The last stroke will have been given to the +only ancient drama remaining, except the tragedies of Sophocles, +and “Gammer Gurton’s Needle.”</p> +<p>With feelings of both sorrow and anger, we turn from the +pedestrian to the equestrian drama. The Surrey has again, as of +yore, become the Circus; she has been joined to Ducrow and his stud +by the usual symbol of union—a <em>ring</em>. +“Mazeppa” is <em>ridden</em> by Mr. Cartlitch, with +great success, and the wild horse performed by an animal so highly +trained, that it is as tame as a lap-dog—has galloped through +a score or so of nights, to the delight of some thousands of +spectators. The scenes in the circle exhibit the usual +<em>round</em> of entertainment, and the <em>Merryman</em> delivers +those reliques of antique facetiæ which have descended to the +clowns of the ring from generation to generation, without the +smallest innovation. Thus the Surrey shows symptoms of high +prosperity, and properly declines to fly in Fortune’s face by +attempting novelty.</p> +<p>The Victoria continues to kill “James Dawson,” in +spite of our prediction. The bills, however, promise that he shall +die outright on Monday next, and a happy release it will be. The +proprietor of “Sadler’s Wells” is making most +spirited efforts to attract play-goers to the Islington side of the +New River, by a return to the legitimate drama of <em>his</em> +theatre, viz.—real water; while his box check-taker has kept +one important integer of the public away; namely, that singular +plural <em>we</em>—by impertinence for which we have +exhausted all patience without obtaining redress.</p> +<p>There are, we hear, other theatres open in London, one called +the “City of London,” somewhere near Shoreditch; +another in Whitechapel, both <em>terræ incognitæ</em> +to us. The proprietors of these have handsomely presented us with +free admissions. We beg them to accept our thanks for their +courtesy; but are sorry we cannot avail ourselves of it till they +add the obligation of providing us with <em>guides</em>.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page114" name="page114"></a>[pg +114]</span> +<h2>THE CORN LAWS AND CHRISTIANITY.</h2> +<p>Doctor Chalmers refused to attend the synod of Clergymen +gathered together to consider the relative value of the Big and +Little Loaf, on the ground that the reverend gentlemen were +beginning their work at the wrong end. Wages will go up with +Christianity, says the Doctor; cheap corn will follow the +dissemination of cheap Bibles. “I know of no other road for +the indefinite advancement of the working classes to a far better +remuneration, and, of course, a far more liberal maintenance, in +return for their toils, than they have ever yet enjoyed—it is +a <em>universal Christian education</em>.” Such are the words +of Doctor CHALMERS.</p> +<p>We perfectly agree with the reverend doctor. Instead of shipping +Missionaries to Africa, let us keep those Christian sages at home +for the instruction of the English Aristocracy. When we consider +the benighted condition of the elegant savages of the western +squares,—when we reflect upon the dreadful scepticism +abounding in Park-lane, May-fair, Portland-place and its +vicinity,—when we contemplate the abominable idols which +these unhappy natives worship in their ignorance,—when we +know that every thought, every act of their misspent life is +dedicated to a false religion, when they make hourly and daily +sacrifice to that brazen serpent,</p> +<p class="cen">SELF!—</p> +<p>when they offer up the poor man’s sweat to the +abomination,—when they lay before it the crippled child of +the factory,—when they take from life its bloom and dignity, +and degrading human nature to mere brute breathing, make offering +of its wretchedness as the most savoury morsel to the perpetual +craving of their insatiate god,—when we consider all the +“manifold sins and wickednesses” of the barbarians in +purple and fine linen, of those pampered savages “whose eyes +are red with wine and whose teeth white with milk,”—we +do earnestly hope that the suggestion of Doctor Chalmers will be +carried into immediate practical effect, and that Missionaries, +preaching true Christianity, will be sent among the rich and +benighted people of this country,—so that the poor may +believe that the Scriptures are something more than mere printed +paper, seeing their glorious effects in the awakened hearts of +those who, in the arrogance of their old idolatry, called +themselves their betters!</p> +<p>“A universal Christian education!” To this end, the +Bench of Bishops meet at Lambeth; and discovering that locusts and +wild honey—the Baptist’s diet—may be purchased +for something less than ten thousand a year,—and, after a +minute investigation of the Testament, failing to discover the name +of St. Peter’s coachmaker, or of St. Paul’s footman, +his valet, or his cook,—take counsel one with another, and +resolve to forego at least nine-tenths of their yearly in-comings. +“No!” they exclaim—and what apostolic brightness +beams in the countenance of CANTERBURY—what celestial light +plays about the fleshy head of LONDON—what more than +saint-like beauty surprises the cowslip-coloured face of +EXETER—what lambent fire, what looks of Christian love play +about and beam from the whole episcopal +Bench!—“No!” they cry—“we will no +longer have the spirit oppressed by these cumbrous trappings of +fleshy pride! We will promote an universal Christian +education—we will teach charity by examples, and live unto +all men by a personal abstinence from the bickerings and malice of +civil life. We will not defile the sacred lawn with the mud of +turnpike acts—we will no longer sweat in the House of Lords, +but labour only in the House of the Lord!”</p> +<p>Their Christian hearts sweetly suffused with sudden meekness, +the Bishops proceed—staff in hand, and Bible under +arm—from Lambeth Palace. How the people make way for the holy +procession! Hackney-coachmen on their stands uncover themselves, +and the drayman, surprised in his whistle, doffs his beaver to the +reverend pilgrims. With measured step and slow, they proceed to +Downing-street; the self-deputed Missionaries, resolved to give her +Majesty’s ministers “a Christian education.” Sir +ROBERT PEEL is immediately taken in hand by the Bishop of EXETER; +who sets the Baronet to learn and exemplify the practical beauties +of the Lord’s Prayer. When Sir ROBERT comes to “give us +this day our daily bread,” he insists upon adding the words +“<em>with a sliding scale</em>.” However, EXETER, +animated by a sudden flux of Christianity, keeps the baronet to his +lesson, and the Premier is regenerated; yea, is “a brand +snatched from the fire.”</p> +<p>Lord LYNDHURST makes a great many wry mouths at some parts of +the Decalogue—we will not particularise them—but the +Bishop of London is resolute, and the new Lord Chancellor is, in +all respects a bran-new Christian.</p> +<p>Lord STANLEY begs that when he prays for power to forgive all +his enemies, he may be permitted to except from that +prayer—DANIEL O’CONNELL. The Bishop is, however, +inexorable; and O’Connell is to be prayed for, in all +churches visited by Lord STANLEY.</p> +<p>Several of the bishops, smitten by the heathen darkness of the +great majority of the Cabinet—affected by their utter +ignorance of the practical working of Christianity—burst into +tears. It will not be credited by those disposed to think +charitably of their fellow-creatures, that—we state the +melancholy fact upon the golden word of the Bishop of +EXETER—several Cabinet ministers had never heard of the +divine sentence which enjoins upon us to do to others as we would +they should do unto us. Sir JAMES GRAHAM, for instance, declared +that he had always understood the passage to simply +run—“<em>Do</em> others;” and had, therefore, in +very many acts of his political life, squared his doings according +to the mutilated sentence. All the Cabinet had, more or less, some +idea of the miracle of the Loaves and the Fishes. Indeed, many of +them confessed that with them, the Loaves and the Fishes had, +during their whole political career, contained the essence of +Christianity. Sir EDWARD KNATCHBULL, Lord ELLENBOROUGH, and +GOULBURN declared that for the last ten years they had hungered for +nothing else.</p> +<p>We cannot dwell upon every individual case of ignorance +displayed in the Cabinet. We confine ourselves to the glad +statement, that every minister from the first lord of the treasury +to the grooms in waiting, vivified by the sacred heat of their +schoolmaster Bishops, illustrate the great truth of Doctor +CHALMERS, that the poor man can only obtain justice “by a +<em>universal</em> Christian education.”</p> +<p>The Bench of Bishops do not confine their labours to the +instruction of the Cabinet. By no means. They have appointed +prebends, deans, canons, vicars, &c., to teach the members of +both houses of Parliament practical Christianity towards their +fellow-men. Lord LONDONDERRY has sold his fowling-piece for the +benefit of the poor—has given his shooting-jacket to the +ragged beggar that sweeps the crossing opposite the Carlton +Club—and resolving to forego the vanities of grouse, is now +hard at work on “The Acts of the Apostles.” Colonel +SIBTHORP—after unceasing labour on the part of Doctor +CROLY—has managed to spell at least six of the hard names in +the first chapter of St. Matthew, and can now, with very slight +hesitation, declare who was the father of ZEBEDEE’S +children!</p> +<p>“An universal Christian education!” Oh, reader! +picture to yourself London—for one day only—operated +upon by the purest Christianity. Consider the mundane interests of +this tremendous metropolis directed by Apostolic principles! +Imagine the hypocrisy of respectability—the conventional +lie—the allowed ceremonial deceit—the tricks of +trade—the ten thousand scoundrel subterfuges by which the +lowest dealers of this world purchase Bank-stock and rear their own +pine-apples—the common, innocent iniquities (innocent from +their very antiquity, having been bequeathed from sire to son) +which men perpetrate six working-days in the week, and after, +lacker up their faces with a look of sleek humility for the Sunday +pew—consider all this locust swarm of knaveries annihilated +by the purifying spirit of Christianity, and then look upon London +breathing and living, for one day only, by the sweet, sustaining +truth of the Gospel!</p> +<p>Had our page ten thousand times its amplitude, it would not +contain the briefest register of the changes of that day!</p> +<p>There is a scoundrel attorney, who for thirty years has become +plethoric on broken hearts. The scales of leprous villany have +fallen from him; and now, an incarnation of justice, he sits with +open doors, to pour oil into the wounds of the smitten—to +make man embrace man as his brother—to preach lovingkindness +to all the world, and—without a fee—to chant the +praises of peace and amity.</p> +<p><em>Crib</em> the stockbroker meets <em>Horns</em> a +fellow-labourer in the same hempen walk of life. <em>Crib</em> +offers to buy a little Spanish of <em>Horns</em>. “My dear +<em>Crib</em>,” says <em>Horns</em>, “it is impossible; +I can’t sell; for I have just received by a private hand from +Cadiz, news that must send the stock down to nothing. I am a +Christian, my dear <em>Crib</em>,” says <em>Horns</em>, +“and as a Christian, how could I sell you a certain +loss?”</p> +<p>A mistaken, but well-meaning man, although a tailor, meets his +debtor in Bow-street. A slight quarrel ensues; whereupon, the +debtor (to show that the days of chivalry are <em>not</em> gone) +kicks his tailor into the gutter. Does the tailor take the offender +before Mr. JARDINE? By no means. The tailor is a Christian; and +learning the exact measure of his enemy, and returning good for +evil, he, in three days’ time, sends to his assailant a new +suit of the very best super Saxony.</p> +<p>How many quacks we see rushing to the various newspaper offices +to countermand their advertisements! What gaps in the columns of +the newspapers themselves! Where is the sugary lie—the adroit +slander—the scoundrel meanness, masking itself with the usage +of patriotism? All, all are vanished, for—the <em>Morning +Herald</em> is published upon Christian principles!</p> +<p>Let us descend to the smallest matters of social life. +“Will this gingham wash?” asks <em>Betty</em> the +housemaid of <em>Twill</em> the linen-draper. <em>Twill</em> is a +Christian; and therefore replies, “it is a very poor article, +and it will <em>not</em> wash!”</p> +<p>We are with Doctor Chalmers for Christianity—but not +Christianity of <em>one side</em>. “Pray for those who +despitefully use you,” say the Corn Law Apostles to the +famishing; and then, cocking their eye at one another, and +twitching their tongues in their mouths they add—“for +this is Christianity!”</p> +<p class="rgt">Q.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>ENCOURAGEMENT OF NATIVE TALENT.</h3> +<p>Her Majesty has, it seems, presented the conductor of the +<em>Gazette Musicale</em> with a gold medal and her portrait, as a +reward for his constant efforts in the cause of music (<em>vide +Morning Post</em>, Sept. 9). From this, it may be supposed, +foreigners alone are deemed worthy of distinction; but our readers +will be glad to learn, that Rundells have been honoured with an +order for a silver whistle for PUNCH. His unceasing efforts in the +causes of <em>humbug</em>, political, literary, and dramatic, +having drawn forth this high mark of royal favour.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page115" name="page115"></a>[pg +115]</span> +<h2>PUNCH’S PENCILLINGS—NO. X.</h2> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/010-07.png"><img src= +"images/010-07.png" alt= +"A man holds a paper marked 'Her Majesty's Command to Dinner'" id= +"img010-07" name="img010-07" width="100%" /></a> +<p>THE DINER-OUT.</p> +</div> +<!-- [pg 116] --> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page117" name="page117"></a>[pg +117]</span> +<h2>THE OMEN OUTWITTED:</h2> +<h3>OR, HOW HIS REVERENCE’S HEELS TOOK STEPS TO SAVE HIS +HEAD.</h3> +<p>“So, Dick, I mean your ‘reverence,’ you like +the blessed old country as well as ever, eh, lad?”</p> +<p>“As well, ay, almost better. My return to it is like the +meeting of long-parted friends—the joy of the moment is pure +and unalloyed—all minor faults are forgotten—all former +goodness rushes with double force from the recollection to the +heart, and the renewal of old fellowship grafts new virtues (the +sweet fruits of regretted absence) upon him who has been the chosen +tenant of our ‘heart of hearts.’”</p> +<p>“His reverence’s health—three times three +(empty them heeltaps, Jack, and fill out of the fresh +jug)—now, boys, give tongue. That’s the raal thing; +them cheers would wake the seven sleepers after a dose of laudanum. +Bless you, and long life to you! That’s the worst wish +you’ll find here.”</p> +<p>“I know that right well, uncle. I know it, feel it, and +most heartily thank you all.”</p> +<p>“Enough said, parson. By dad, Dick, its mighty droll to be +calling you, that was but yesterday a small curly-pated gossoon, by +that clerical mouthful of a handle to your name. But do you find us +altered much?”</p> +<p>“There is no change but Time’s—that has fallen +lightly. To be sure, yesterday I was looking for the heads of my +strapping cousins at the bottom button of their well-filled +waistcoats, and, before Jack’s arrival, meant to do a +paternal and patriarchal ‘pat’ on his, at somewhere +about that altitude; a ceremony he must excuse, as the little lad +of my mind has thought proper to expand into a young Enniskillen of +six feet three.”</p> +<p>“He’s a mighty fine boy—the lady-killing +vagabone!” said the father, with a kind look of gratified +pride; and then added, as if to stop the infection of the vanity, +“and there’s no denying he’s big enough to be +better.” Here a slight scrimmage at the door of the +dining-room attracted the attention of the +“masther.”</p> +<p>“What’s the meaning of that noise, ye +vagabones?”</p> +<p>“Spake up, Mickey.”</p> +<p>“Is it me?” “It is.” “Not at all, +by no means. Let Paddy do it, or Tim Carroll; they’re used to +going out wid the car, and don’t mind spaking to the +quality.” “Take yourselves out o’that, or let me +know what you want, and be pretty quick about it, too.”</p> +<p>The result of this order was the appearance of Tim Carroll in +the centre of the room—a dig between the shoulders, and +vigorously-applied kick behind, hastening him into that somewhat +uneasy situation, with a degree of expedition perfectly +marvellous.</p> +<p>“Spake out, what is it?” “Ahem!” +commenced Tim; “you see, sir (<em>aside</em>), I’ll be +even wid you for that kick, you thief of the world—you see, +Paddy (bad manners to him) and the rest o’ the boys, was +thinking that, owing to the change o’ climate, Master +Richard—that is, his new riverence—has gone through by +rason of laving England and comin’ here—and mighty +could, no doubt, he was on the journey—be praised he’s +safe—the boy, sir, was thinkin’, masther dear, it was +nothing but their duty, and what was due to the family, to ax your +honour’s opinion about their takin’ the smallest taste +of whiskey in life, jist to be drinking his riverence’s +Masther Richard’s health, and”—“Success to +him!” shouted the chorus at the door. “That’s +it!” said the masther. “And nothing but it!” +responded the chorus. “Nelly, my jewel! take the kays and +give them anything in dacency!” “Hurrah! smiling good +luck to you, for ever and afther!” “That’ll do, +boys! but stay: it’s Terence Conway’s wedding +night—it’s a good tenant he’s been to +me—take the sup down there, and you’ll get a dance; now +be off, you devils!”</p> +<p>“Many thanks to your honour!” chorused the delighted +group; and “I done that iligant, anyhow,” muttered the +gratified, successful, and, therefore, forgiving orator. +“I’ll try again. Ahem! wouldn’t the young +gentlemen just step down for a taste?” “By all +manes!” was chimed at once; their hats were mounted in a +moment, and off they set.</p> +<p>Terence Conway’s farm was soon reached; the barn affording +the most accommodation for the numerous visitors, was fitted up for +the occasion. It was nearly full, as Terence was a popular +man—one that didn’t grudge the “bit and +sup,” and never turned his back upon friend or foe. Loud and +hearty were the cheers of the delighted tenantry, as the three sons +of their beloved landlord passed the threshold. The appearance of +the “stranger” was received with no such demonstrations +of welcome; on the contrary, there was a sullen silence, soon after +broken by suppressed and angry murmurs. These were somewhat +appeased by one of the sons introducing his “cousin,” +and endeavouring to joke the peasants into good-humour, by +laughingly assuring them his “reverence” was but a bad +drinker, and would not deprive them of much of the poteen; then +passing his arm through the parson’s, he led the way, as it +afterwards turned out, rather unfortunately, to the top of the +barn, and there, followed by his brothers, they took their +seats.</p> +<p>The entrance of the Catholic priest (a most amiable man) at this +moment attracted the entire attention of the party, during which +time Tim Carroll elbowed his way to the place where his master was +seated, and calling him partially aside, whispered, “Master +John, dear, tell his riverence, Master Richard, to go.”</p> +<p>“What for?”</p> +<p>“Sure, is not he entirely in black?”</p> +<p>“Well, what of it?”</p> +<p>“What of it? Houly Paul! the likes o’ that! If my +skin was as hard as a miser’s heart, I wouldn’t put it +into a black coat, and come to a wedding in it; it’s the +devil’s own bad omen, and nothing else!”</p> +<p>“You are right! What a fool I was not to tell Dick! +Cousin, a word!”</p> +<p>Here the clamour became somewhat louder, the priest taking an +active part, and speaking rapidly and earnestly in their native +tongue to the evidently excited peasantry. He suddenly broke from +them, and hastening to the Protestant clergyman, grasped his hand, +and, shaking it heartily, wished him “health, long life, and +happiness:” and lifting a tumbler of punch to his lips, drank +off nearly half its contents, exclaiming the customary, “God +save all here!” He then presented the liquor to the stranger, +saying in a low earnest voice, “Drink that toast, +sir!”</p> +<p>This order was instantly complied with. The clear tones of the +young man’s unfaltering voice and the hearty cordiality of +his utterance had a singular effect upon the more turbulent; the +priest passed rapidly from the one to the other, and endeavoured to +say something pleasant to all, but, despite his attempts at +calmness, he was evidently ill at ease.</p> +<p>Tim Carroll again sidled up to his young master.</p> +<p>“The boys mane harrum, sir,” said Tim; “but +never mind, there’s five of us here. We’ve not been +idle, we’ve all been taking pick o’ the sticks, and +divil a stroke falls upon one of the ould ancient family widout +showing a bruck head or a flat back for it.”</p> +<p>“What am I to understand by this?” inquired the +young stranger.</p> +<p>“That you’re like Tom Fergusson when he rode the +losing horse—you’ve mounted the wrong colour; and, be +dad, you are pretty well marked down for it, sir; but never mind, +there’s Tim Carroll looking as black as the inside of a +sut-bag. Let him come on! he peeled the skin off them shins +o’ mine at futball; maybe, I won’t trim his head with +black thorn for that same, if he’s any ways obstropolis this +blessed night.”</p> +<p>“Silence, sir! neither my inclination nor sacred calling +will allow me to countenance a broil! I have been the first +offender—to attempt to leave the room now would but provoke +an attack; leave this affair to me, and don’t +interfere.”</p> +<p>“By the powers! if man or mortal lifts his hand to injure +you, I’ll smash the soul out of him! Do you think, omen or no +omen, I’ll stand by and see you harmed?—not a bit of +it! If you are a parson and a child of peace, I have the honour to +be a soldier, and claim my right to battle in your +cause.”</p> +<p>Maugre the pacific tone of the unfortunately-accoutered +ecclesiastic, there was something of defiance in his flashing eye +and crimson cheek, as he turned his brightening glance upon what +might almost be called the host of his foes; and the nervous +pressure which returned the grasp of his cousin’s sinewy +hand, spoke something more of readiness for battle than could have +been gathered from his expressed wishes.</p> +<p>“If, Jack, it comes to that, why, as human nature is +weak—excuse what I may feel compelled to do; but for the +present pray oblige me by keeping your seat and the peace; or, if +you must move and fidget about, go and make that pugnacious Tim +Carroll as decent as you can.”</p> +<p>“I’ll be advised by you, Dick; but look out!” +So saying, the stalwart young officer bustled his way to the +uproarious Tim.</p> +<p>It was well he did so, or bloodshed must have ensued, as at that +moment a tall and powerful man, brother-in-law to the bride, lifted +his stick, and after giving it the customary twirl aimed a +point-blank blow at the head of the ill-omened parson. The bound of +an antelope brought the girl to the spot; her small hand averted +the direction of the deadly weapon, and before the action had been +perceived by any present, or the attempt could be resumed, she +dropped a curtesy to the assailant, and in a loud voice, with an +affected laugh, exclaimed—</p> +<p>“You, if you plaise, sir;” and, turning quickly to +the fiddler, continued: “Any tune you like, Mr. Murphy, sir; +but, good luck to you, be quick, or we won’t have a dance +to-night!”</p> +<p>“Clear the floor!—a dance! a dance!” shouted +every one.</p> +<p>In a few seconds the angry scowl had passed from the flushed +cheeks of Dan Sheeny, and there he was, toe and heeling, double +shuffling, and cutting it over the buckle, to the admiration of all +beholders. The bride was seated near the stranger—he +perceived this, and suddenly quitting his place, danced up to her, +and nodding, as he stopped for a moment, invited her to join him. +She was ever light of foot, and, as she said afterwards, +“would have danced her life out but she’d give the poor +young gentleman a chance.” Long and vigorously did Dan Sheeny +advance, retire, curvette, and caper. The whiskey and exertion at +length overcame him, and he left the lady sole mistress of the +floor. By this time murmurs had again arisen, and all eyes were +turned upon the intruder, who had been intently engaged observing +the dancers. It was an accomplishment for which he had been +celebrated previous to his taking orders, and the old feeling so +strongly interested him, that he was absorbed in the pleasure of +witnessing the activity and joyousness of the performers. He turned +his head for an instant—a heavy hand was laid upon his +shoulder. On his starting up, he saw nothing but the smiling Norah +pressing the arm of a tall peasant, and curtseying him a challenge +to join her “on the floor.” He paused for a moment, +then gaily taking her hand, advanced with her to the centre. All +eyes were bent upon them, but there was no restraint in the young +parson’s manner. The most popular jig-tune was called +for—to it they went; his early-taught and well-practised feet +beat living echoes to the most rapid bars. A foot of ground seemed +ample space for all the intricate compilation of the <em>raal</em> +Conamera “capers.” The tune was changed again and +again; again and again was his infinity of steps adapted to its +varying sounds: to use a popular phrase, you might have heard a pin +drop. Every mouth was closed, every eye fixed upon his rapid feet; +and, when at length wearied with exertion, the almost fainting girl +was falling to the earth, her gallant partner caught her in his +arms, and, like an infant, bore her to the open air, one loud and +general cheer burst from their unclosed lips; a few moments +restored the pretty lass to perfect health. Her first words were, +“Leave me, sir, and save yourself.” It was too late; +borne on the shoulders of the admiring mob, who, despite his suit +of sables (now rendered innoxious by the varying colour of the +crimson kerchief the young bride bound round his neck), he was soon +seated in the chair of honour, and there, surrounded by his +friends, finished the night the “lion of the dance.” +And thus it was that his “Reverence’s heels took steps +to preserve his head.”—FUSBOS</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page118" name="page118"></a>[pg +118]</span> +<h2>TRANSACTIONS AND YEARLY REPORT. OF THE HOOKHAM-CUM-SNIVEY +LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, AND MECHANICS’ INSTITUTION.</h2> +<p class="cen">(<em>Continued from our last.</em>)</p> +<p>An important and advantageous arrangement in the transactions of +the society, since its foundation, has been the institution of the +classes “for the acquisition of a general smattering of +everything,” more especially as concerning the younger +branches of society. It is, however, much to be regretted, that the +public examination of the juvenile members, upon the subjects they +had listened to during the past course, did not turn out so well as +the committee could have wished. The various professors had taken +incredible pains to teach the infant philosophers correct answers +to the separate questions that would be asked them, in order that +they might reply with becoming readiness. Unfortunately the +examiner began at the wrong end of the class, and threw them all +out, except the middle one. We sub-join a few of the +questions:—</p> +<p>State the distance, in miles, from the Hanwell Lunatic Asylum to +the Tuesday in Easter week, and show how long a man would be going +from one to the other, if he travelled at the rate of four gallons +a minute.</p> +<p>Required to know the advantages of giving tracts to poor people +who cannot read, and how many are equivalent to a sliding-scale +penny buster, in the way of nourishment.</p> +<p>“Was Lord John Russell in his Windsor uniform, ever +mistaken for a two-penny postman; if so, what great man imagined +the affinity?</p> +<div class="figleft"><a href="images/010-08.png"><img src= +"images/010-08.png" alt= +"A smoking, drinking sailor sits atop a telescope marked 'BACCA'." +id="img010-08" name="img010-08" width="100%" /></a></div> +<p>The School of Design and Drawing has made very creditable +progress, and the subscribers will be gratified in learning, that +one of the pupils sent in a design for the Nelson Testamonial, +which would in all probability have been accepted, had not the +decision been made in the usual preconcerted underhand manner. +Following the columnar idea of Mr. Railton, our talented pupil had +put forth a peculiarly appropriate idea: the shaft would have been +formed by a sea-telescope of gigantic proportions, pulled out to +its utmost extent. On the summit of this Nelson would have been +seated, as on the maintop, smoking his pipe, from which real smoke +would have issued. This would have been produced by a stove at the +bottom of the column, whose object was to furnish a steady supply +of baked potatoes, uninfluenced by the fluctuations of the market, +to the cabmen of Trafalgar-square, and the street-sweepers at +Charing-cross. The artist who designed the elegant structure at +King’s-cross, which partakes so comprehensively of the +attributes of a pump, a watch-house, a lamp-post, and a turnpike, +would have superintended its erection, and a carved figure-head +might have been purchased, for a mere song, to crown the elevation. +It would not have much mattered whether the image was intended for +Nelson or not, because, from its extreme elevation, no one, without +a spy-glass, could have told one character from +another—Thiers from Lord John Russell, George Steevens from +Shakspere, Muntz from the Duke of Brunswick, or anybody else.</p> +<h4>THE MUSEUM.</h4> +<p>The museum of the institution has been gradually increasing in +valuable additions, and donations are respectfully requested from +families having any dust-collecting articles about their houses +which they are anxious to get rid of.</p> +<p>The first curiosities presented were, of course, those which +have formed the nucleus of every museum that was ever established, +and consisted of “South Sea Islander’s paddles and +spears, North American mocassins and tomahawks, and Sandwich (not +in Kent, but in the Pacific Ocean) canoes and fishing-tackle. In +addition, we have received the following, which the society beg to +acknowledge:—</p> +<p>The jaw-bone of an animal, supposed to be a cow, found two feet +below the surface, in digging for the Great Western Railway, near +Slough.</p> +<p>Farthing, penny, and sixpence, of the reign of George the +Fourth.</p> +<p>Piece of wood from the red-funnel steam-boat sunk off the Isle +of Dogs, in August, 1841, which had been under water nearly six +days.</p> +<p>A variety of articles manufactured from the above, sufficient to +build a boat twelve times the size, may be purchased of the +librarian.</p> +<p>A floor-tile, in excellent preservation, from the old +Hookham-cum-Snivey workhouse kitchen, before the new union was +built.</p> +<p>Specimens of pebbles collected from the gravel-pits at Highgate, +and a valuable series of oyster-shells, discovered the day after +Bartholomew-fair, near the corner of Cock-lane.</p> +<p>A small lizard, caught in the Regent’s-park, preserved in +gin-and-water, in a soda-water bottle, and denominated by the +librarian “a heffut.”</p> +<h4>LIBRARY.</h4> +<p>Advertisement half of a <em>Times</em> newspaper for March, +1838.</p> +<p>Playbill of the English Opera during Balfe’s management, +supposed to be that of the memorable night when 16<em>l.</em> +4<em>s.</em> was taken, in hard cash, at the doors.</p> +<p>View of the Execution of the late Mr. Greenacre in front of +Newgate, published by Catnach, from a drawing by an unknown artist. +(<em>Very rare!</em>)</p> +<p>MS. pantomime, refused at the Haymarket, entitled +“Harlequin and the Hungarian Daughter; or, All My Eye and +Betty Martinuzzi,” with the whole of the songs, choruses, and +incidental combats and situations. Presented by the author, in +company with a receipt for red and green fire.</p> +<p>Bound copy of Sermons preached at Hookham-cum-Snivey Church, by +the Reverend Peter Twaddle, on the occasions, of building a +dusthole for the national schools; of outfitting the missionaries +who are exported annually to be eaten by the Catawampous Indians; +on the death of Mr. Grubly, the retired cheesemonger, who endowed +the weathercock; and in aid of the funds of the +“newly-born-baby-clothes-bag-and-basket-institution:” +printed at the desire of his, “he fears, in this instance, +too partial” parishioners, and presented by himself.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>OUR FOREIGN RELATIONS.</h3> +<p>The treaty of the four powers, to which Chelsea, Battersea, +Brompton, and Wandsworth are parties, and from which Pimlico has +hitherto obstinately stood aloof, has at length been ratified by +the re-entry of that impetuous suburb into the general views of +Middlesex. We have now a right to call upon Pimlico to disarm, and +to cut off its extra watchman with a promptitude that shall show +the sincerity with which it has joined the neighbouring powers in +the celebrated treaty of Kensington. It is already known that, by +this document, Moses Hayley is recognised as hereditary beadle, and +Abraham Parker is placed in undisturbed possession of the post of +waterman on the coach-stand in the outskirts. We are not among +those who expect to find a spirit of propagandism prevailing in the +policy of the powers of Pimlico. The lamplighter who lights the +district is a man of sound discernment, and there is everything to +hope from the moderation he has always exhibited.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>SIBTHORP ON THE CORN LAW.</h3> +<p>Sibthorp came out in full fig at Sir Robert Peel’s dinner. +While he was having his hair curled, and the irons were heating, he +asked the two-penny operator what was his opinion of the corn-law +question. The barber’s answer suggested the following +con.:—</p> +<p>“Why am I like a man eating a particular sort of fancy +bread?”—“Because,” answered the tonsor, +“you are having</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/010-09.png"><img src= +"images/010-09.png" alt="A man gets his hair styled." id= +"img010-09" name="img010-09" width="30%" /></a> +<p>A TWOPENNY TWIST”</p> +</div> +<p>This reply made the Colonel’s hair stand on end, taking it +quite out of curl.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>FISH SAUCE.</h3> +<p>The boy Jones, in one of his visits to the Palace, to avoid +detection, secreted himself up the kitchen chimney. The intense +heat necessary for the preparation of a large dish of white-bait +for her Majesty’s dinner compelled him to relax his hold, and +in an instant he was precipitated among the Blackwall delicacies. +The indignant cook immediately demanded “his business +there.” “Don’t you see,” observed the +younker, “I’m</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/010-10.png"><img src= +"images/010-10.png" alt="A boy tumbles into a large frying pan." +id="img010-10" name="img010-10" width="50%" /></a> +<p>ONE OF THE FRY?”</p> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page119" name="page119"></a>[pg +119]</span> +<h2>PUNCH’S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.</h2> +<h3>NO. 4.</h3> +<h4>NATURAL HISTORY.</h4> +<p><em>Definition.</em>—The history of +“naturals”—which chiefly include the human +species—and of “simples” (herbs), occupies the +branch of science we are about to enlighten our readers upon. It +treats, in fact, of animated nature; while physical +history—instead of being the history of Apothecaries’ +Hall, as many suppose—deals exclusively with inanimate +matter.</p> +<p><em>Of genus, species, and orders.</em>—If, in the +vegetable world, we commence with the buttercup, and trace all the +various kinds and sizes of plants that exist, up to the pine +(Norwegian), and down again to the hautboy (Cormack’s +Princesses); if, among the lower animals, we begin with a gnat and +go up to an elephant, or select from the human species a Lord John +Russell, and place him beside a professor Whewell, we shall see +that nature provides an endless variety of all sorts of everything. +Now, to render a knowledge of everything in natural history as +difficult of acquirement as possible to everybody, the scientific +world divides nature into the above-mentioned classes, to which +Latin names are given. For instance, it would be vulgarly +ridiculous to call a “cat” by its right name; and when +one says “cat,” a dogmatic naturalist is justified in +thinking one means a lion or tiger, both these belonging to the +<em>cat</em>egory of “cats;” hence, a “cat” +is denominated, for shortness, <em>felis Ægyptiacus;</em> an +ass is turned into a horse, by being an <em>equus</em>; a woman +into a man, for with him she is equally <em>homo</em>.</p> +<p>Of this last species it is our purpose exclusively to treat. The +variety of it we commence with is,</p> +<h4>THE BARBER (<em>homo +emollientissimus</em>.—TRUEFIT).</h4> +<p><em>Physical structure and peculiarities</em>.—The most +singular peculiarity of the barber is, that although, in his +avocations, he always is what is termed a “strapper,” +yet his stature is usually short. His tongue, however, makes up for +this deficiency, being remarkably long,—a beautiful provision +of nature; for while he is seldom called upon to use his legs with +rapidity, his lingual organ is always obliged to be on the +“run.” His eyes are keen, and his wits sharp; his mouth +is tinged with humour, and his hair—particularly when +threatening to be gray—with <em>poudre unique</em>. Manner, +prepossessing; crop, close; fingers, dirty; toes, turned out. He +seldom indulges in whiskers, for his business is to shave.</p> +<p>1. <em>Habits, reproduction, and food.</em>—A singular +uniformity of <em>habits</em> is observable amongst barbers. They +all live in shops curiously adorned with play-bills and +pomatum-pots, and use the same formulary of conversation to every +new customer. All are politicians on both sides of every subject; +and if there happen to be three sides to a question, they take a +triangular view of it.</p> +<p>2. <em>Reproduction.</em>—Some men are born barbers, +others have barberism thrust upon them. The first class are brought +forth in but small numbers, for shavers seldom pair. The second +take to the razor from disappointment in trade or in love. This is +evident, from the habits of the animal when alone, at which period, +if observed, a deep, mysterious, melo-dramatic gloom will be seen +to overspread his countenance. He is essentially a social being; +company is as necessary to his existence as beards.</p> +<p>3. <em>Food.</em>—Upon this subject the most minute +researches of the most prying naturalists have not been able to +procure a crumb of information. That the barber does eat can only +be inferred; it cannot be proved, for no person was ever known to +catch him in the act; if he does masticate, he munches in silence +and in secret<sup>1</sup><span class="sidenote">1. Not so of +drinking. Only last week we saw, with our own eyes, a pot of ale in +a barber’s shop; and very good ale it was, too, for we tasted +it.</span>.</p> +<p><em>Geographical distribution of barbers.</em>—Although +the majority of barbers live near the <em>pole</em>, they are +pretty diffusely disseminated over the entire face of the globe. +The advance of civilization has, however, much lessened their +numbers; for we find, wherever valets are kept, barbers are not; +and as the magnet turns towards the north, they are attracted to +the east. In St. James’s, the shaver’s +“occupation’s gone;” but throughout the whole of +Wapping, the distance is very short</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/010-11.png"><img src= +"images/010-11.png" alt= +"A man is hit on the head by a barber pole." id="img010-11" name= +"img010-11" width="50%" /></a> +<p>“FROM POLE TO POLE.”</p> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>A LECTURE ON MORALITY.—BY PUNCH.</h2> +<p>Moral philosophers are the greatest fools in the world. I am a +moral philosopher; I am no fool though. Who contradicts me? If any, +speak, and come within reach of my cudgel. I am a moral philosopher +of a new school. The schoolmaster is abroad, and I am the +schoolmaster; but if anybody says that <em>I</em> am abroad, I will +knock him down. I am <em>at home</em>. And now, good people, attend +to me, and you will hear something worth learning.</p> +<p>The reason why I call all moral philosophers fools is, because +they have not gone properly to work. Each has given his own +peculiar notions, merely, to the world. Now, different people have +different opinions: some like apples, and others prefer another +sort of fruit, with which, no doubt, many of you are familiar. +“Who shall decide when doctors disagree?”</p> +<p>My system of morality is the result of induction. I am very fond +of Bacon—I mean, the Bacon recommended to you by the +“Society for the Diffusion of Useful +Knowledge”—<em>Lord</em> Bacon. I therefore study the +actions of mankind, and draw my inferences accordingly. The people +whose conduct I attend to are those who get on best in the world; +for the object of all morality is to make ourselves happy, and as +long as we are so, what, my good friends, does it signify?</p> +<p>The first thing that you must do in the study of morals is, to +get rid of all prejudices. Bacon and I quite agree upon this point. +By prejudices I mean your previous notions concerning right and +wrong.</p> +<p>Dr. Johnson calls morality “the doctrine of the duties of +life.” In this definition I agree. The doctor was a clever +man. I very much admire the knock-down arguments that he was so +fond of; it is the way in which I usually reason myself. Now the +duties of life are two-fold—our duty to others and our duty +to ourselves. Our duty to ourselves is to make ourselves as +comfortable as possible; our duty to others, is to make them assist +us to the best of their ability in so doing. This is the plan on +which all respectable persons act, and it is one which I have +always followed myself. What are the consequences? See how popular +I am; and, what is more, observe how fat I have got! Here is a +corporation for you! Here is a leg! What think you of such a cap as +this? and of this embroidered coat? Who says that I am not a fine +fellow, and that my system is not almost as fine? Let him argue the +point with me, if he dare!</p> +<p>Happiness consists in pursuing our inclinations without +disturbance, and without getting into trouble. Make it, then, your +first rule of conduct always to do exactly as you please; that is, +if you can. I am not like other moralists, who talk in one way and +act in another. What I advise you to do, is nothing more than what +I practise myself, as you have very often observed, I dare say.</p> +<p>Be careful to show, invariably, a proper respect for the laws; +that is to say, when you do anything illegal, take all the +precautions that you can against being found out. Here, perhaps, my +example is somewhat at variance with my doctrine; but I am +stronger, you know, than the executive, and therefore, instead of +my respecting it, it ought to respect me.</p> +<p>Be sure to keep a quiet conscience. In order that you may secure +this greatest of blessings, never allow yourselves to regret any +part of your past behaviour; and whenever you feel tempted to do +so, take the readiest means that you can think of to banish +reflection, or, as Lord Byron very properly terms it—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“The blight of life, the demon Thought!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>You have observed that, after having knocked anybody on the +head, I generally begin to dance and sing. This I do, not because I +am troubled with any such weakness as remorse, but in order to +instruct you. I do not mean to say that you are to conduct +yourselves precisely in the same manner under similar +circumstances; a pipe, or a pot, or a pinch of snuff—in +short, any means of diversion—will answer your purpose +equally well.</p> +<p>Adhere strictly to truth—whenever there is no occasion for +lying. Be particularly careful to conceal no one circumstance +likely to redound to your credit. But when two principles clash, +the weaker, my good people, must, as the saying is, go to the wall. +If, therefore, it be to your interest to lie, do so, and do it +boldly. No one would wear false hair who had hair of his own; but +he who has none, must, of course, wear a wig. I do not see any +difference between false hair and false assertions; and I think a +lie a very useful invention. It is like a coat or a pair of +breeches, it serves to clothe the naked. But do not throw your +falsifications away: I like a proper economy. Some silly persons +would have you invariably speak the truth. My friends, if you were +to act in this way, in what department of commerce could you +succeed? How could you get on in the law? what vagabond would ever +employ you to defend his cause? What practice do you think you +would be likely to procure as a physician, if you were to tell +every old woman who fancied herself ill, that there was nothing the +matter with her, or to prescribe abstinence to an alderman, as a +cure for indigestion? What would be your prospect in the church, +where, not to mention a few other little trifles, you would have, +when you came to be made a bishop, to say that you did not wish to +be any such thing? No, my friends, truth is all very well when the +telling of it is convenient; but when it is not, give me a bouncing +lie. But that one lie, object the advocates of uniform veracity, +will require twenty more to make it good: very well, then, tell +them. Ever have a due regard to the sanctity of oaths; this you +will evince by never using them to support a fiction, except on +high and solemn occasions, such as when you are about to be +invested with some public dignity. But avoid any approach to a +superstitious veneration for them: it is to keep those thin-skinned +and impracticable individuals who are infected by this failing from +the management of public affairs, that they have been, in great +measure, devised.</p> +<p>Never break a promise, unless bound to do so by a previous one; +and promise yourselves from this time forth never to do anything +that will put you to inconvenience.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page120" name="page120"></a>[pg +120]</span> +<p>Never take what does not belong to you. For, as a young pupil +who formerly attended these lectures pathetically expressed +himself, he furnishing, at the time, in his own person, an +illustration of the maxim—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Him as prigs wot isn’t his’n,</p> +<p>Ven ’a’s cotch must go to pris’n!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>But what is it that does <em>not</em> belong to you? I answer, +whatever you cannot take with impunity. Never fail, however, to +appropriate that which the law does not protect. This is a duty +which you owe to yourselves. And in order that you may thoroughly +carry out this principle, procure, if you can, a legal education; +because there are a great many flaws in titles, agreements, and the +like, the knowledge of which will often enable you to lay hands +upon various kinds of property to which at first sight you might +appear to have no claim. Should you ever be so circumstanced as to +be beyond the control of the law, you will, of course, be able to +take whatever you want; because there will be nothing then that +will <em>not</em> belong to you. This, my friends, is a grand moral +principle; and, as illustrative of it, we have an example (as +schoolboys say in their themes) in Alexander the Great; and +besides, in all other conquerors that have ever lived, from Nimrod +down to Napoleon inclusive.</p> +<p>Speak evil of no one behind his back, unless you are likely to +get anything by so doing. On the contrary, have a good word to say, +if you can, of everybody, provided that the person who is praised +by you is likely to be informed of the circumstance. And, the more +to display the generosity of your disposition, never hesitate, on +convenient occasions, to bestow the highest eulogies on those who +do not deserve them.</p> +<p>Be abstemious—in eating and drinking at your own expense; +but when you feed at another person’s, consume as much as you +can possibly digest.</p> +<p>Let your behaviour be always distinguished by modesty. Never +boast or brag, when you are likely to be disbelieved; and do not +contradict your superiors—that is to say, when you are in the +presence of people who are richer than yourselves, never express an +opinion of your own.</p> +<p>Live peaceably with all mankind, if you can; but, as you cannot, +endeavor, as the next best thing, to settle all disputes as +speedily as possible, by coming, without loss of time, to blows; +provided always that the debate promises to be terminated, by +reason of your superior strength, in your own favour, and that you +are not likely to be taken up for knocking another person down. It +is very true that I, individually, <em>never</em> shun this kind of +discussion, whatever may be the strength and pretensions of my +opponent; but then, I enjoy a consciousness of superiority over the +whole world, which you, perhaps, may not feel, and which might, in +some cases, mislead you. I think, however, that a supreme contempt +for all but yourselves is a very proper sentiment to entertain; +and, from what I observe of the conduct of certain teachers, I +imagine that this is what is meant by the word humility. You must, +nevertheless, be careful how you display it; do so only when you +see a probability of overawing and frightening those around you, so +as to make them contributors to the great aim of your +existence—self-gratification.</p> +<p>Be firm, but not obstinate. Never change your mind when the +result of the alteration would be detrimental to your comfort and +interest; but do not maintain an inconvenient inflexibility of +purpose. Do not, for instance, in affairs of the heart, simply +because you have declared, perhaps with an oath or two, that you +will be constant till death, think it necessary to make any effort +to remain so. The case stands thus: you enter into an agreement +with a being whose aggregate of perfections is expressible, we will +say, by 20. Now, if they would always keep at that point, there +might be some reason for your remaining unaltered, namely, your not +being able to help it. But suppose that they dwindle down to +19-1/2, the person, that is, the whole sum of the qualities +admired, no longer exists, and you, of course, are absolved from +your engagement. But mind, I do not say that you are justified in +changing <em>only</em> in case of a change on the opposite side: +you may very possibly become simply tired. In this case, your prior +promise to yourself will absolve you from the performance of the +one in question.</p> +<p>And now, my good friends, before we part, let me beg of you not +to allow yourselves to be diverted from the right path by a parcel +of cant. You will hear my system stigmatised as selfish; and I +advise you, whenever you have occasion to speak of it in general +society, to call it so too. You will thus obtain a character for +generosity; a very desirable thing to have, if you can get it +cheap. Selfish, indeed! is not self the axis of the earth out of +which you were taken? The fact is, good people, that just as +notions the very opposite of truth have prevailed in matters of +science, so have they, likewise, in those of morals. A set of +impracticable doctrines, under the name of virtue, have been +preached up by your teachers; and it is only fortunate that they +have been practised by so few; those few having been, almost to a +man, poisoned, strangled, burnt, or worse treated, for their +pains.</p> +<p>But here comes the police, to interfere, as usual, with the +dissemination of useful truths. Farewell, my good people; and +whenever you are disposed for additional instruction, I can only +say that I shall be very happy to afford it to you for a reasonable +consideration.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>A BOWER OF BLISS IN STANGATE.</h2> +<p class="note">Oh, fly to the Bower—fly with me.—OLD +OR NEW SONG (<em>I forget which</em>).</p> +<p>If you take a walk over Waterloo-bridge, and, after going +straight on for some distance, turn to the right, you will find +yourself in the New-Cut, where you may purchase everything, from a +secretaire-bookcase to a saveloy, on the most moderate terms +possible. The tradesmen of the New-Cut are a peculiar class, and +the butchers, in particular, seem to be brimming over with the milk +of human kindness, for every female customer is addressed as +“My love,” while every male passer-by is saluted with +the friendly greeting of “Now, old chap, what can I do for +you?” The greengrocers in this “happy land” +earnestly invite the ladies to “pull away” at the +mountains of cabbages which their sheds display, while little boys +on the pavement offer what they playfully designate “a plummy +ha’p’orth,” of onions to the casual +passenger.</p> +<p>At the end of the New-Cut stands the Marsh-gate, which, at +night, is all gas and ghastliness, dirt and dazzle, blackguardism +and brilliancy. The illumination of the adjacent gin-palace throws +a glare on the haggard faces of those who are sauntering outside. +Having arrived thus far, watch your opportunity, by dodging the +cabs and threading the maze of omnibuses, to effect a crossing, +when you will find Stangate-street, <em>running out</em>, as some +people say, of the Westminster-road; though of the fact that a +street ever ran out of a road, we take leave to be sceptical.</p> +<p>Well, go on down this Stangate-street, and when you get to the +bottom, you will find, on the left-hand, THE BOWER! And a pretty +bower it is, not of leaves and flowers, but of bricks and mortar. +It is not</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“A bower of roses by Bendermere’s stream,</p> +<p class="i2">With the nightingale singing there all the day +long;</p> +<p>In the days of my childhood ’twas like a sweet dream,</p> +<p class="i2">To sit ’mid the roses and hear the birds’ +song.</p> +<p>That bower, and its music, I never forget:</p> +<p class="i2">But oft, when alone, at the close of the year,</p> +<p>I think is the nightingale singing there yet,</p> +<p class="i2">Are the roses still fresh by the calm +Bendermere?”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>No, there is none of this sentimental twaddle about the Bower to +which we are alluding. There are no roses, and no nightingale; but +there are lots of smoking, and plenty of vocalists. We will +paraphrase Moore, since we can hardly do less, and we may say, with +truth,</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“There’s a Bower in Stangate’s respectable +street,</p> +<p class="i2">There’s a company acting there all the night +long;</p> +<p>In the days of my childhood, egad—what a treat!</p> +<p class="i2">To listen attentive to some thundering song.</p> +<p>That Bower and its concert I never forget;</p> +<p class="i2">But oft when of halfpence my pockets are clear,</p> +<p>I think, are the audience sitting there yet,</p> +<p class="i2">Still smoking their pipes, and imbibing their +beer?”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Upon entering the door, you are called on to pay your money, +which is threepence for the saloon and sixpence for the boxes. The +saloon is a large space fitted up something like a chapel, or +rather a court of justice; there being in front of each seat a +species of desk or ledge, which, in the places last named would +hold prayer-books or papers, but at the Bower are designed for +tumblers and pewter-pots. The audience, like the spirits they +imbibe, are very much mixed; the greater portion consisting of +respectable mechanics, while here and there may be seen an +individual, who, from his seedy coat, well-brushed four-and-nine +hat, highly polished but palpably patched highlows, outrageously +shaved face and absence of shirt collar, is decidedly an amateur, +who now and then plays a part, and as he is never mistaken for an +actor on the stage, tries when off to look as much like one as +possible.</p> +<p>The boxes are nothing but a gallery, and are generally visited +by a certain class of ladies who resemble angels, at least, in one +particular, for they are “few and far between.”</p> +<p>But what are the entertainments? A miscellaneous concert, in +which the first tenor, habited in a <em>surtout</em>, with the +tails pinned back, to look like a dress-coat, apostrophises his +“pretty Jane,” and begs particularly to know her reason +for looking so <em>sheyi</em>—<em>vulgo</em>, shy. Then there +is the bass, who disdains any attempt at a body-coat, but honestly +comes forward in a decided bearskin, and, while going down to G, +protests emphatically that “He’s on the C (sea).” +Then there is the <em>prima donna</em>, in a pink gauze petticoat, +over a yellow calico slip, with lots of jewels (sham), an immense +colour in the very middle of the cheek, but terribly chalked just +about the mouth, and shouting the “Soldier tired,” with +a most insinuating simper at the corporal of the Foot-guards in +front, who returns the compliment by a most outrageous leer between +each whiff of his tobacco-pipe.</p> +<p>Then comes an <em>Overture by the band</em>, which is a little +commonwealth, in which none aspires to lead, none condescends to +follow. At it they go indiscriminately, and those who get first to +the end of the composition, strike in at the point where the others +happen to have arrived; so that, if they proceed at sixes and +sevens, they generally contrive to end in unison.</p> +<p>Occasionally we are treated with Musard’s <em>Echo +quadrilles</em>, when the solos are all done by the octave flute, +so are all the echoes, and so is everything but the +<em>cada</em>.</p> +<p>But the grand performance of the night is the dramatic piece, +which is generally a three-act opera, embracing the whole debility +of the company. There is the villain, who always looks so wretched +as to impress on the mind that, if honesty is not the best policy, +rascality is certainly the worst. Then there is the lover, whose +woe-begone countenance and unhappy gait, render it really +surprising that the heroine, in dirty white sarsnet, should have +displayed so much constancy. The low comedy is generally done by a +gentleman who, while fully impressed with the importance of the +“low,” seems wholly to overlook the +“comedy;” and there is now and then a banished +nobleman, who appears to have entirely forgotten everything in the +shape of nobility during his banishment. There is not unfrequently +a display of one of the proprietor’s children in a part +requiring “infant innocence;” and as our ideas of that +angelic state are associated principally with pudding heads and +dirty faces, the performance is generally got through with a +nastiness approaching to nicety. But it is time to make our escape +from the <em>Bower</em>, and we therefore leave them to get through +the “Chough and Crow”—which is often the wind-up, +because it admits of a good deal of growling—in our absence. +We cannot be tempted to remain even to witness the pleasing +performances of the “Sons of Syria,” nor the +“Aunts of Abyssinia.” We will not wait to see Mr. +Macdonald sing “Hot codlings” on his head, though the +bills inform us he has been honoured by a command to go through +that interesting process from “<em>nearly all the crowned +heads in Europe</em>.”</p> +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +1, September 18, 1841, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 14928-h.htm or 14928-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/9/2/14928/ + +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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