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November 20, 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, +November 20, 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, November 20, 1841 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 7, 2005 [EBook #14937] + +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>NOVEMBER 20, 1841.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page217" name="page217"></a>[pg +217]</span> +<h2>MYSELF, PUNCH, AND THE KEELEYS.</h2> +<p>I dined with my old friend and schoolfellow, Jack Withers, one +day last September. On the previous morning, on my way to the India +House, I had run up against a stout individual on Cornhill, and on +looking in his face as I stopped for a moment to apologise, an +abrupt “This is surely Jack Withers,” burst from my +lips, followed by—“God bless me! Will Bayfield!” +from his. After a hurried question or two, we shook hands warmly +and parted, with the understanding that I was to cut my mutton with +him next day.</p> +<p>Seventeen years had elapsed since Withers and I had seen or +heard of each other. Having a good mercantile connexion, he had +pitched upon commerce as his calling, and entered a counting-house +in Idollane in the same year that I, a raw young surgeon, embarked +for India to seek my fortune in the medical service of the East +India Company.</p> +<p>Things had gone well with honest Jack; from a long, thin, weazel +of a youngster, he had become a burly ruddy-faced gentleman, with +an aldermanic rotundity of paunch, which gave the world assurance +that his ordinary fare by no means consisted of deaf nuts; he had +already, as he told me, accumulated a very pretty independence, +which was yearly increasing, and was, moreover, a snug bachelor, +with a well-arranged residence in Finsbury-square; in short, it was +evident that Jack was “a fellow with two coats and everything +handsome about him.”</p> +<p>As for me, I was a verification of the adage about the rolling +stone; having gathered a very small quantity of “moss,” +in the shape of worldly goods. I had spent sixteen years in +marching and countermarching over the thirsty plains of the +Carnatic, in medical charge of a native regiment—salivating +Sepoys and blowing out with blue pills the officers—until the +effects of a stiff jungle-fever, that nearly made me proprietor of +a landed property measuring six feet by two, sent me back to +England almost as poor as I had left it, and with an atrabilarious +visage which took a two-months’ course of Cheltenham water to +scour into anything like a decent colour.</p> +<p>Withers’ dinner was in the best taste: viands +excellent—wine superb; never did I sip racier Madeira, and +the Champagne trickled down one’s throat with the same +facility that man is inclined to sin.</p> +<p>The cloth drawn, we fell to discoursing about old times, things, +persons, and places. Jack then told me how from junior clerk he had +risen to become second partner in the firm to which he belonged; +and I, in my turn, enlightened his mind with respect to Asiatic +Cholera, Runjeet Sing, Ghuzni, tiger-shooting, and Shah Soojah.</p> +<p>In this manner the evening slid pleasantly on. An array of six +bottles, that before dinner had contained the juice of Oporto, +stood empty on the sideboard. Jack wanted to draw another cork, +which, however, I positively forbad, as I have through life made it +a rule to avoid the slightest approach towards excess in tippling; +so, after a modest brace of glasses of brandy-and-water, I shook +hands with and left my friend about half-past nine, for I am an +old-fashioned fellow, and love early hours, my usual time for +turning in being ten.</p> +<p>When I got into the street an unaccustomed spirit of gaiety at +once took possession of me; my general feelings of benevolence and +goodwill towards all mankind appeared to have received a sudden and +marvellous increase. I seemed to tread on eider-down, and, cigar in +mouth, strolled along Fleet-street and the Strand, towards my +domicile in Half-Moon street—“nescio quid meditans +nugarum”—sometimes humming the fag end of an Irish +melody; anon stopping to stare in a print-shop window; and then I +would trudge on, chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancy as I +conned over the various ups and downs that had chequered my life +since Jack Withers and I were thoughtless lads together “a +long time ago.”</p> +<p>In this mood I found myself standing before the New Strand +Theatre, my attention having been arrested by the word PUNCH +blazoned in large letters on a play-bill.</p> +<p>“What can this mean?” quoth I to myself. “I +know a publication called Punch very well, but I never heard of a +performance so named. I’ll go in and see it. Who knows but it +may be an avatar<sup>1</sup><span class="sidenote">1. The Avatar we +do not allow—the illustrious periodical we do.—ED. OF +PUNCH.</span> of the Editor of that illustrious periodical, who +condescends to discard his dread incognito for the nonce, in order +to exhibit himself, for one night only, to the eyes and +understandings of admiring London.”</p> +<p>In another minute I was seated in the boxes, and found a crowded +audience in full enjoyment of the quiet waggery of Keeley, who was +fooling them to the top of their bent, accoutred from top to toe as +Mynheer Punch the Great, while his clever little wife—who, by +the way, possesses, I think, more of the “vis comica” +than any actress of the day—caused sides to shake and eyes to +water by her naïve and humorous delineation of Mrs. +Snozzle.</p> +<p>The curtain had hardly fallen more than a couple of minutes, +when a door behind me opened hastily, and a box-keeper thrusting in +his head, called out—“Is there a medical man +here?” “I am one,” said I, getting up; +“anything the matter?” “Come with me then, sir, +if you please,” said he; “a severe accident has just +happened to Mrs. Keeley; a falling scene has struck her head, sir, +and hurt her dreadfully.”</p> +<p>“Good heavens!” said I, much shocked; “I will +come immediately.”</p> +<p>I followed the man to the stage door, and was ushered into a +dressing-room with several people in it, where, extended on a sofa, +lay the unfortunate lady, whom I had but a few minutes before seen +full of life and spirits, delighting hundreds with her unrivalled +humour and <em>espièglerie</em>,—there she lay, in the +same fantastic dress she had worn on the stage, pale as +death—a quantity of blood flowing from a fearful wound on her +head, and uttering those low quick moans which are indicative of +extreme suffering.</p> +<p>Poor little Keeley stood beside the couch, holding her hand; he +was still in full fig as <em>Polichinel</em>; and the grotesqueness +of his attire contrasted strangely with the anguish depicted on his +countenance. As I came forward, he slowly made way for +me—looked in my face imploringly, as if to gather from its +expression some gleam of hope, and then stood aside, in an attitude +of profound dejection.</p> +<p>Having felt the sufferer’s pulse, I was about to turn her +head gently, in order to examine the nature of the wound, when a +hustling noise behind me causing me to turn round, to my infinite +dismay, I perceived Mr. Keeley, having pushed the bystanders on one +side, in the act of performing a kind of Punchean dance upon the +floor, accompanying himself with the vigorous chuckling and crowing +peculiar to the hero whose habiliments he wore. I was +horror-stricken—conceiving that grief had suddenly turned his +brain.</p> +<p>All at once, he made a spring towards me, and, seizing my arm, +thrust me into a corner of the room, where he held me fast, +exclaiming—</p> +<p>“Wretch! villain! restore me my wife—that talented +woman your infernal arts have destroyed! You did for +her!”</p> +<p>“Mr. Keeley,” said I, struggling to release myself +from his grasp—“my dear sir, pray compose +yourself.”</p> +<p>“Unhappy traitor!” he shouted, giving me an +unmerciful tweak by the nose; “Look at her silver skin laced +with her golden blood!—see, see! Oh, see!”</p> +<p>This was rather too much, even from a man whose wits were +astray. I began to lose patience, and was preparing to rid myself +somewhat roughly of the madman’s grasp, when a new phenomenon +occurred.</p> +<p>The patient on the sofa, whom I had judged well nigh moribund, +and consequently incapable of any effort whatever, all at once sat +up with a sudden jerk, and gave vent to a series of the most +ear-piercing shrieks that ever assailed human tympanum.</p> +<p><em>“Oh! oh! Mon Dieu! je suis étouffée! +levez-vous donc, monsieur—n’avez-vous pas +honte!”</em></p> +<p>I started up—O misery!—I had fallen asleep, and my +head, resting against a pillar, had slipped down, depositing itself +upon the expansive bosom of a portly French dame in the next box, +who seemed, by her vehement exclamations, to be quite shaken from +the balance of her propriety by the unlooked-for burthen I had +imposed upon her; whilst a <em>petit monsieur</em> poured forth a +string of <em>sacres</em> and <em>sapristies</em> upon my devoted +head with a volubility of utterance truly astonishing.</p> +<p>I gazed about me with troubled and lack-lustre eye. Every +lorgnette in the boxes was levelled at my miserable countenance; a +sea of upturned and derisive faces grinned at me from the pit, and +the gods in Olympus thundered from on high—“Turn him +out; he’s drunk!”</p> +<p>This was the unkindest cut of all—thus publicly to be +accused of intoxication, a vice of all others I have ever detested +and eschewed.</p> +<p>I cast one indignant glance around me, and left the theatre, +lamenting the depravity of our nature, which is, alas! always ready +to put the worst construction upon actions in themselves most +innocent; for if I had gone to sleep in my own arm-chair, pray who +would have accused me of inebriety?</p> +<p>How I got home I know not. As I hurried through the streets, a +legion of voices, in every variety of intonation, yelled in my +ears—“Turn him out—he’s drunk!” and +when I woke in the middle of the night, tormented by a raging +thirst (produced, I suppose, by the flurry of spirits I had +undergone), I seemed to hear screams, groans, and hisses, above all +which predominated loud and clear the malignant +denunciation—“Turn him out—he’s +drunk!”</p> +<p>Upon my subsequently mentioning the above adventure to Jack +Withers, it will hardly be credited that this villain without shame +at once roundly asserted that, when I left him on the +afore-mentioned night, I was at least three sheets and three +quarters in the wind; adding with praiseworthy candour, that he +himself was so far gone as to be obliged, to the infinite scandal +of his staid old housekeeper, to creep up stairs <em>à +quatre pieds</em>, in order to gain his bedroom.</p> +<p>Now this latter may be true enough, for it is probable that +friend Jack <span class="pagenum"><a id="page218" name= +"page218"></a>[pg 218]</span>freshened his nip a trifle after my +departure, seeing that he was always something of a drunken knave. +As for his calumnious and scandalous declaration, that <em>I</em> +was in the least degree tipsy, it is too ridiculous to be noticed. +I scorn it with my heels—I was sober—sober, cool, and +steady as the north star; and he that is inclined to question this +solemn asseveration, let him send me his card; and if I don’t +drill a hole in his doublet before he’s forty-eight hours +older, then, as honest Slender has it, “I would I might never +come in mine own great chamber again else.”</p> +<hr /> +<h3>“ARE YE SURE THE NEWS IS TRUE?”</h3> +<p>We learn from good authority that Lord TAMBOFF STANLEY, in +answer to a deputation from Scotland, assured the gentlemen who +waited upon him that “the subject of <em>emigration</em> was +under the serious consideration of Her Majesty’s +Ministers.” We hope that those respectable gentlemen may soon +resolve upon their departure—we care not “what clime +they wander to, so not again to <em>this</em>;” or, as +Shakspeare says, let them “stand not upon the order of their +going, but GO.” The country, we take it upon ourselves to +say, will remember them when they are gone; they have left the +nation too many weighty proofs of their regard to be forgotten in a +hurry—Corruption, Starvation, and Taxation, and the National +Debt by way of</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/019-01.png"><img src= +"images/019-01.png" alt="A dancer shows her shapely calves." id= +"img019-01" name="img019-01" width="50%" /></a> +<p>A HANDSOME LEG—I SEE (LEGACY).</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>A DOSE OF CASTOR.</h3> +<p>Peter Borthwick, late of the Royal Surrey Nautical, having had +the honour of “deep damnation” conferred upon his +“taking off” the character of Prince Henry, upon that +occasion, to appear in unison with the text of the Immortal Bard, +“dressed” the part in a most elaborate +“neck-or-nothing tile.” Upon being expostulated with by +the manager, he triumphantly referred to the description of the +chivalrous Prince in which the narrator particularly +states—</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/019-02.png"><img src= +"images/019-02.png" alt="A little fellow wears a big hat." id= +"img019-02" name="img019-02" width="30%" /></a> +<p>I SAW YOUNG HARRY WITH HIS BEAVER ON.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>CUTTING AT THE ROOT OF THE EVIL.</h3> +<p>“Good heavens, Sir Peter,” said Hobler, +confidentially, to our dearly beloved Alderman, “How could +you have passed such a ridiculous sentence upon Jones, as to direct +his hair to be cut off?” “All right, my dear +Hobby,” replied the sapient justice; “the fellow was +found fighting in the streets, and I wanted to hinder him, at least +for some time, from again</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/019-03.png"><img src= +"images/019-03.png" alt="Two cats fight." id="img019-03" name= +"img019-03" width="70%" /></a> +<p>COMING TO THE SCRATCH.”</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>TO PUNCH.</h3> +<p>We have received the following choice bit of poetic pathology +from our old friend and jolly dog Toby, who, it seems, has taken to +medicine. The dog, however, always had a great propensity to +<em>bark</em>, owing doubtlessly to the strong <em>tincture</em> of +<em>canine</em> there was in his constitution:—</p> +<p>MY DEAR PUNCH,</p> +<p>Nothing convinces me more of my treacherous memory than my not +recollecting you at the memorable “New-boot Supper;” +for I certainly must have been as long in that society as yourself. +Be that as it may, you have induced me to scrape together a few +reminiscences in an imperfect way, leaving to you, from your better +recollection, to correct and flavour the specimen to the palate of +your readers, who have, most deservedly, every reliance upon your +good taste and moral tendency. I have in vain tried to meet with +the music of “the good old days of Adam and Eve,” +consequently have lost the enjoyment of the +chorus—“Sing hey, sing ho!” It would be too much +to ask you to sing it, but perhaps you may too-te-too it in your +next. May your good intentions to the would-be Æsculapius be +attended with success.—I remain, dear Punch, your old +friend,</p> +<p class="rgt">TOBY.</p> +<h4>ASCITES.</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Abdomen swell’d, which fluctuates when struck upon the +side, sirs;</p> +<p>Face pale and puff’d, and worse than that, with thirst and +cough beside, sirs;</p> +<p>Skin dry, and breathing difficult, and pains in epigastrium,</p> +<p>And watchfulness or partial sleep, with dreams would strike the +bravest dumb.</p> +<p>To cure—restore the balance of exhalants and +absorbents,</p> +<p>With squill, blue-pill, and other means to soothe the +patient’s torments.</p> +</div> +<h5>GRINDER.</h5> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Sure this is not your climax, sir, to save from Davy’s +locker!</p> +</div> +<h5>STUDENT.</h5> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Way, no,—I’d then with caution tap—when first +I’d tied the knocker.</p> +<p class="i2">Sing hey! sing ho! if you cannot find a new plan,</p> +<p class="i2">In Puseyistic days like these, you’d better try +a New-man.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h4>TYMPANITIS.</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The swelling here is different—sonorous, tense, +elastic;</p> +<p>On it you might a tattoo beat, with fingers or with a stick.</p> +<p>There’s costiveness and atrophy, with features +Hippocratic;</p> +<p>When these appear, there’s much to fear, all safety is +erratic.</p> +<p>Although a cordial laxative, mix’d up with some +carminative,</p> +<p>Might be prescribed, with morphia, or hops, to keep the man +alive;</p> +<p>Take care his diet’s nutritive, avoiding food that’s +flatulent,</p> +<p>And each week let him have a dose of Punch from Mr. Bryant +sent.</p> +<p class="i2">Sing hey! sing ho! &c.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>ALARMING PROSPECTS FOR THE COUNTRY.</h3> +<p>It appears that no less than <em>one hundred and sixty-four</em> +Attorneys have given notice of their intention to practise in the +Court of Queen’s Bench; and <em>eleven</em> of the fraternity +have applied to be re-admitted Attorneys of the Court. We had no +idea that such an alarming extension was about taking place in</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/019-04.png"><img src= +"images/019-04.png" alt= +"Three men force another to turn out his pockets." id="img019-04" +name="img019-04" width="60%" /></a> +<p>THE RIFLE CORPS.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>“ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER.”</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A poor man went to hang himself,</p> +<p class="i2">But treasure chanced to find;</p> +<p>He pocketed the miser’s pelf</p> +<p class="i2">And left the rope behind.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>His money gone, the miser hung</p> +<p class="i2">Himself in sheer despair:</p> +<p>Thus each the other’s wants supplied,</p> +<p class="i2">And that was surely fair.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<p>We understand that Mr. Webster has solicited Sir Peter Laurie to +make an early début at the Haymarket Theatre in the +<em>Heir</em> (hair) <em>at Law</em>.</p> +<p>Madame Vestris has also endeavoured to prevail upon the civic +mercy. Andrew to appear in the afterpiece of the <em>Rape of the +Lock</em>.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page219" name="page219"></a>[pg +219]</span> +<h2>THE HEIR OF APPLEBITE.</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> +<h4>WHEREIN THE READER WILL FIND GREAT CAUSE FOR REJOICING.</h4> +<div class="dropcap"><a href="images/019-05.png"><img src= +"images/019-05.png" alt= +"A letter C with flowers trailing from it and an heron in its bowl." +id="img019-05" name="img019-05" width="100%" /></a></div> +<p><span class="hide">C</span>onducive as Uncle Peter’s +suggestion might have been to the restoration of peace in the +family of our hero, it was decided to be impracticable by several +medical gentlemen, who were consulted upon the matter. After sundry +scenes of maternal and grandmaternal distress, Agamemnon succeeded +in obtaining the victory, and the heir was vaccinated accordingly +with the most favourable result. The pustule rose, budded, +blossomed, and disappeared, exactly as it ought to have done, and a +few days saw the health of the infant Applebite insured in the +office of Dr. Jenner.</p> +<p>Scarcely had the anxious parents been relieved by this +auspicious termination, when that painful disorder which renders +pork unwholesome and children fractious, made its appearance. Had +we the plague-pen of the romancist of Rookwood, we would revel in +the detail of this domesticated pestilence—we would picture +the little sufferer in the hour of its agony—and be as minute +as Mr. Hume in our calculations of its feverish pulsations; but our +quill was moulted by the dove, not plucked from the wing of the +carrion raven.</p> +<p>And now, gentle reader, we come to a point of this history which +we are assured has been anxiously looked forward to by you—a +point at which the reader, already breathless with expectation, has +fondly anticipated being suffocated with excitement. We may, +without vanity, lay claim to originality, for we have introduced a +new hero into the world of fiction—a baby three months +old—we have traced his happy parents from the ball-room to +St. George’s church; from St. George’s church to the +ball-room; thence to the doctor’s; and from thence to</p> +<h3>THE END.</h3> +<p>Reproach us not, mamas?—Discard us not, ye blushing +divinities who have, with your sex’s softness, dandled the +heir of Applebite in your imaginations!—Wait!—Wait till +we have explained! We have a motive; but as we are novices in this +style of literature, we will avail ourselves, at our leave-taking, +of the valedictory address of one who is more “up to the +swindle.”</p> +<p class="cen"><em>To the Readers of the Heir of +Applebite</em>.</p> +<p>DEAR FRIENDS,—Having finished the infanto-biography upon +which we have been engaged, it is our design to cut off our heir, +and bring our tale to a close. You may want to know why—or if +you don’t, we will tell you.</p> +<p>We should not regard the anxiety, the close confinement, or the +constant attention inseparable from a nursery, did we feel that the +result was agreeable to you. But we have not done so. We have been +strongly tempted to think, that after waiting from week to week, +you have never arrived at anything interesting. We could not bear +this jerking of our conscience, which was no sooner ended than +begun again.</p> +<p>Most “passages in a tale of <em>any length</em> depend +materially for the interest on the intimate relation they bear to +what has gone before, or what is to follow.” We sometimes +found it difficult to accomplish this.</p> +<p>Considerations of immediate profit ought, in such cases, to be +of secondary importance; but, for the reasons we have just +mentioned, we have (after some pains to resist the temptation) +determined to abandon this <em>scheme</em> of publication.</p> +<p>Taking advantage of the respite which the close of this work +will afford us, we have decided in January next to rent a second +floor at Kentish Town.</p> +<p>The pleasure we anticipate from the realisation of a wish we +have long entertained and long hoped to gratify, is subdued by the +reflection that we shall find it somewhat difficult to emancipate +our moveables from the thraldom of Mrs. Gibbons, our respected but +over-particular landlady.</p> +<p>To console the numerous readers of PUNCH, we have it in command +to announce, that on Saturday, Nov. 27th, the first chapter of a +series under the title of the “Puff Papers,” +appropriately illustrated, will be commenced, with a desire to +supply the hiatus in periodical fiction, occasioned by the +temporary seclusion of one of the most popular novelists of the +day.</p> +<p>Dear friends, farewell! Should we again desire to resume the +pen, we trust at your hands we shall not have to encounter a</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/019-06.png"><img src= +"images/019-06.png" alt= +"A child tries to force his way through a fence." id="img019-06" +name="img019-06" width="50%" /></a> +<p>DISPUTED RETURN.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE LAMBETH DEMOSTHENES.</h3> +<p>We are happy to find that Dr. Tully Cicero Burke Sheridan +Grattan Charles Phillips Hobler Bedford has not been deterred by +the late unsatisfactory termination to the “public +meeting” called by him to address the Queen, from prosecuting +his patriotic views for his own personal advantage. Dr. &c. +Bedford has kindly furnished us with the report of a meeting called +by himself, which consisted of himself, for the purpose of +considering the propriety of petitioning the Throne to appoint +himself to be medical-adviser-in-general to her Majesty, and +vaccinator-in-particular to his little Highness the Prince of +Wales.</p> +<p>At 10 o’clock precisely Dr. &c. Bedford entered the +little back parlour of his surgery, and advancing to the +looking-glass over the mantel-piece, made a polite bow to the +reflection of himself. After a few complimentary gestures had +passed between them, Dr &c. Bedford hemmed twice, and in a very +elegant speech proposed that “Doctor &c. Bedford +<em>shoold</em> take the <em>cheer</em>.”</p> +<p>Dr. &c. Bedford rose to second the proposition. Dr. &c. +Bedford said, “Dr. &c. Bedford is a gentleman what I have +had the honour of knowing on for many long ears. His medikel +requirement are sich as ris a Narvey and a Nunter to the summut of +the temples of Fame. His political requisitions are summarily +extinguished. It is, therefore, with no common pride that I second +this abomination.”</p> +<p>Dr. &c. Bedford then bowed to his reflection in the glass, +and proceeded to take his seat in his easy chair, thumping the +table with one hand, and placing the other gracefully upon his +breast, as though in token of gratitude for the honour conferred +upon him.</p> +<p>Order being restored, Dr. &c. Bedford rose and +said,—</p> +<p>“I never kotched myself in sich a sitchuation in my +life—I mean not that I hasn’t taken a cheer afore, +perhaps carried one—but it never has been my proud extinction +to preside over such a meeting—so numerous in its numbers and +suspectable in its appearance. My friend, Dr. &c. Bedford, +(<em>Hear, hear! from. Dr. &c. Bedford</em>,) his the hornament +of natur in this 19th cemetary. His prodigious +outlays”—</p> +<p><em>Voice without</em>.—“Here they are, only a +penny!”</p> +<p>Dr. &c. Bedford.—“Order, order! +His—his—you know what I mean that shoold distinguish +the fisishun and the orator. I may say the Solus of +orators,—renders him the most fittest and the most properest +person to take care of the Royal health, and the Royal Infant Babby +of these regions,” (<em>Hear, hear! from Dr. &c. +Bedford</em>.)</p> +<p>The Doctor then proceeded to embody the foregoing observations +into a resolution, which was proposed by Dr. &c. Bedford, and +seconded by Dr. &c. Bedford, who having held up both his hands, +declared it to be carried <em>nem. con.</em></p> +<p>Dr. &c. Bedford then proposed a vote of thanks to Dr, +&c. Bedford for his conduct in the chair. The meeting then +dispersed, after Dr. &c. Bedford had returned thanks, and bowed +to his own reflection in the looking-glass.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page220" name="page220"></a>[pg +220]</span> +<h2>A LEGEND OF THE TOWER (NOT LONDON).</h2> +<p>In the immediate vicinity of the pretty little town of Kells +stands one of those peculiar high round towers, the origin of which +has so long puzzled the brains of antiquaries. It is invariably +pointed out to the curious, as a fit subject for their +contemplation, and may, in fact, be looked upon as the great local +lion of the place. It appears almost inaccessible. But there is a +story extant, and told in very choice Irish, how two small +dare-devil urchins did succeed in reaching its lofty summit; and +this is the way the legend was done into English by one Barney +Riley, the narrator, to whom I am indebted for its +knowledge:—</p> +<p>“You see Masther Robert, sir,—though its murduring +high, and almost entirely quite aqual in stapeness to the ould +ancient Tower of Babel, yet, sir, there is them living now as have +been at the top of that same; be the same token I knew both +o’ the spalpeens myself. It’s grown up they are now; +but whin they wint daws’-nesting to the top there, the little +blackguards weren’t above knee-high, if so much.”</p> +<p>“But how did they arrive at the summit?”</p> +<p>“That’s the wonder of it! but sure nobody knows but +themselves; but the scamps managed somehow or other to insart +themselves in through one of them small loopholes—whin little +Danny Carroll gave Tom Sheeney a leg up and a back, and Tom Sheeney +hauled little Danny up after him by the scruff o’ the neck; +and so they wint squeedging and scrummaging on till, by dad, they +was up at the tip-top in something less than no time; and the +trouble was all they had a chance o’ gettin for their pains; +for, by the hokey, the daws’ nest they had been bruising +their shins, breaking their necks, and tearing their frieze +breeches to tatters to reach, was on the outside o’ the +building, and about as hard to get at as truth, or marcy from a +thafe of a tythe proctor.</p> +<p>“‘Hubbabboo,’ says little Danny; ‘we are +on the wrong side now, as Pat Murphy’s carroty wig was whin +it came through his hat; what will we do, at all, at +all?’</p> +<p>“‘Divil a know I know. It would make a parson swear +after takin’ tythe. Do you hear the vagabones? Oh, then +musha, bad luck to your cawings; its impedence, and nothing but it, +to be shouting out in defiance of us, you dirty bastes. Danny, lad, +you’re but a little thrifle of a gossoon; couldn’t you +squeedge yourself through one o’ them holes?’</p> +<p>“‘What will I stand—or, for the matter +o’ that, as I’m by no manes particular,—sit upon, +whin I git out—that is, if I can?’</p> +<p>“‘Look here, lad, hear a dacent word—it will +be just the dandy thing for yes entirely; go to it with a will, and +make yourself as small as a little cock elven, and thin we’ll +have our revenge upon them aggravation thaves.’ How the puck +he done it nobody knows; but by dad there was his little, ragged, +red poll, followed by the whole of his small body, seen coming out +o’ that trap-loop there, that doesn’t look much bigger +than a button-hole—and thin sitting astride the ould bit of +rotten timbers, and laffing like mad, was the tiny Masther Danny, +robbing the nests, and shouting with joy as he pulled bird after +bird from their nate little feather-beds. ‘This is +elegant,’ says he; ‘here’s lashins of +’em.’</p> +<p>“‘How many have you,’ says Tom Sheeney.</p> +<p>“‘Seven big uns—full fledged, wid feathers as +black as the priest’s breeches on a Good Friday’s +fast.’</p> +<p>“‘Seven is it?’</p> +<p>“‘It is.’</p> +<p>“‘Well, then, hand them in.’</p> +<p>“‘By no manes.’</p> +<p>“‘Why not?’</p> +<p>“‘Seein they’re as well wid me as you.</p> +<p>“‘Give me my half then—that’s +your’—</p> +<p>“‘Aisy wid you; who’s had the trouble and the +chance of breaking his good-looking neck but me, Mr. Tim +Sheeney.’</p> +<p>“‘Devil a care I care; I’ll have four, or +I’ll know why.’</p> +<p>“‘That you’ll soon do: I won’t give +’em you.’</p> +<p>“‘Aint I holding the wood?’</p> +<p>“‘By coorse you are; but aint I sitting outside upon +it, and by the same token unseating my best breeches.’</p> +<p>“‘I bid you take care; give me four.’</p> +<p>“‘Ha, ha! what a buck your granny was, Mistet Tim +Sheeney; it’s three you’ll have, or none.’</p> +<p>“‘Then by the puck I’ll let you go.’</p> +<p>“‘I defy you to do it, you murdering +robber.’</p> +<p>“‘Do you! by dad; once more, give me +four.’</p> +<p>“‘To blazes wid you; three or none.’</p> +<p>“‘Then there you go!’</p> +<p>“And, worse luck, sure enough he did, and that at the +devil’s own pace.</p> +<p>“At this moment I turned my eyes in horror to the Tower, +and the height was awful.”</p> +<p>“Poor child,—of course he was killed upon the +spot?”</p> +<p>“There’s the wonder; not a ha’porth o’ +harm did the vagabone take at all at all. He held on by the +birds’ legs like a little nagur; he was but a shimpeen of a +chap, and what with the flapping of their wings and the soft place +he fell upon, barring a little thrifle of stunning, and it may be a +small matter of fright, he was as comfortable as any one could +expect under the circumstances; but it would have done your heart +good to see the little gossoon jump up, shake his feathers, and +shout out at the top of his small voice, ‘Tim Sheeney, you +thief, you’d better have taken the three,—for d—n +the daw do you get now!’” And so ends the Legend of the +Round Tower.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>IRISH INTELLIGENCE.</h3> +<h4>AWFUL STATE OF THE COUNTRY!</h4> +<p class="cen">(<em>From our own Correspondent.</em>)</p> +<p>We are at length enabled to inform the Public that we have, at a +vast expense, completed our arrangements for the transmission of +the earliest news from Ireland. We have just received the +<em>Over-bog Mail</em>, which contains facts of a most interesting +nature. We hasten to lay our sagacious correspondent’s +remarks before our readers:—</p> +<p class="rgt"><em>Bally-ha-ghadera, Tuesday Night</em>.</p> +<p>PUNCH will appreciate my unwillingness to furnish him with +intelligence which might in any way disturb the commercial +relations between this and the sister island, more particularly at +the <em>present crisis</em>, when the interests of that prosperous +class, the London Baked Potatoe vendors, are so intimately +connected, with the preservation of good feeling among the +Tipperary growers. However, my duty to PUNCH and the public compel +me to speak.—I do feel that we are on the eve of a great +popular commotion. Every day’s occurrences strengthen my +conviction. Bally-ha-ghadera was this morning at sunrise disturbed +by noises of the most appalling kind, forming a wild chorus, in +which screams and bellowings seemed to vie for supremacy; indeed +words cannot adequately describe this terrific disturbance. As I +expected, the depraved Whig Journalist, with characteristic mental +tortuosity, has asserted that the sounds proceeded from a rookery +in the adjoining wood, aided by the braying of the turf-man’s +donkey. But an enlightened public will see through this paltry +subterfuge. Rooks and donkeys! Pooh! There cannot be a doubt but +that the noises were the preparatory war-whoops of this ferocious +and sanguinary people. We believe the Whig editor to be the only +<em>donkey</em> in the case; that he may have been a ravin(g) at +the time is also very probable.</p> +<p>No later than yesterday the <em>Cloonakilty Express</em> was +stopped by a <em>band of young men</em>, who savagely ill-treated +our courier, a youth of tender age, having attempted to stone him +to death. Our courier is ready to swear that at the time of the +attack the young men were busily engaged counting a <em>vast store +of ammunition</em>, consisting of <em>round white clay balls</em> +baked to the hardness of bullets, and <em>evidently</em> intended +for <em>shooting with</em>.</p> +<p>I have to call particular attention to the fact that a +countryman was this day observed to buy a threepenny loaf, and on +leaving the baker’s to <em>tear it asunder and distribute the +fragments with three confederates</em>!!! an act which I need not +say was evidently symbolical of their desire to rend asunder the +<em>Corn Laws</em>, and to divide the landed property amongst +themselves. The action also appears analogous to the custom of +breaking bread and swearing alliance on it, a practice still +observed by the inhabitants of some remote regions of the Caucasus. +I must again solemnly express my conviction that we are standing on +a <em>slumbering</em> VOLCANO; the thoughtless and unobservant may +suppose not; probably because in the present tee-total state of +society they see nothing of the CRATER.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>TAKING A SIGHT AT THE FIRE.</h3> +<p>A man bearing the very inapplicable name of <em>Virtue</em> was +brought up at Lambeth-street last week, on the charge of having +stolen a telescope from the Ordnance-office in the Tower on the +morning of the fire. The prisoner pleaded that, being +short-sighted, he took the glass to have a sight of the fire. The +magistrate, however, <em>saw through</em> this excuse very clearly; +and as it was apparent that <em>Virtue</em> had taken a +<em>glass</em> too much on the occasion, he was fully +committed.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page221" name="page221"></a>[pg +221]</span> +<h3>JOE HUME’S FORTHCOMING WORK.</h3> +<p>We have received the following note from an old and esteemed +correspondent, who, we are rejoiced to find, has returned from a +tour in Switzerland, where he has been engaged in a prodigious work +connected with the statistics of that country.</p> +<p class="rgt"><em>Reform Club-house</em>.</p> +<p>DEAR PUNCH,</p> +<p>Knowing the interest you take in anything relating to the +advancement of science, I beg to apprise you that I am about +publishing a statistical work, in which I have made it perfectly +clear that an immense saving in the article of ice alone might be +made in England by importing that which lies waste upon Mont Blanc. +I have also calculated to a fraction the number of pints of milk +produced in the canton of Berne, distinguishing the quantity used +in the making of cheese from that which has been consumed in the +manufacture of butter—and specifying in every instance +whether the milk has been yielded by cows or goats. There will be +also a valuable appendix to the work, containing a correct list of +all the inns on the road between Frankfort and Geneva, with a copy +of the bill of fare at each, and the prices charged; together with +the colour of the postilion’s jacket, the age of the landlord +and the weight of his wife, and the height in inches of the cook +and chambermaid. To which will be added, “Ten Minutes’ +Advice” upon making one shilling go as far as two. If you can +give me a three-halfpenny puff in your admired publication, you +will confer a favour on</p> +<p class="rgt">Your sincere friend,<br /> +JOE HUME.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE ROMANCE OF A TEACUP.</h2> +<h3>SIP THE FIRST.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In England one man’s mated to one woman,</p> +<p class="i2">To spend their days in holy matrimony—</p> +<p>In fact, I <em>have</em> heard from one or two men,</p> +<p class="i2">That one wife in a house is one too many—</p> +<p>But, be this as it may, in China no man</p> +<p class="i2">Who can afford it shuts himself to any</p> +<p>Fix’d number, but is variously encumber’d</p> +<p>With better halves, from twenty to a hundred.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>These to provide for in a pleasant way,</p> +<p class="i2">And, maybe, to avoid their chat and worry,</p> +<p>He shuts up in a harem night and day—</p> +<p class="i2">With them contriving all his cares to bury—</p> +<p>A point of policy which, I should say,</p> +<p class="i2">Sweetens the dose to men about to marry;</p> +<p>For, though a wife’s a charming thing enough,</p> +<p>Yet, like all other blessings, <em>quantum suff</em>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>So to my tale: Te-pott the Multifarious</p> +<p class="i2">Was, once upon a time, a mandarin—</p> +<p>In personal appearance but precarious,</p> +<p class="i2">Being incorrigibly bald and thin—</p> +<p>But then so rich, through jobs and pensions various,</p> +<p class="i2">Obtain’d by voting with the party +“in,”</p> +<p>That he maintain’d, in grace and honour too,</p> +<p>Sixty-five years, and spouses fifty-two.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Fifty-two wives! and still he went about</p> +<p class="i2">Peering below the maiden ladies’ +veils—</p> +<p>Indeed, it <em>was</em> said (but there hangs a doubt</p> +<p class="i2">Of scandal on such gossip-whisper’d tales),</p> +<p>He had a good one still to single out—</p> +<p class="i2">For all his wives had tongues, and <em>some</em> had +nails—</p> +<p>And still he hoped, though fifty-twice deferr’d,</p> +<p>To find an angel in his fifty-third.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In China, mind, and such outlandish places,</p> +<p class="i2">A gentleman who wishes to be wed</p> +<p>Looks round about among the pretty faces,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor for a moment doubts they may be had</p> +<p>For asking; and if any of them “nay” says,</p> +<p class="i2">He has his remedy as soon as said—</p> +<p>For, when the bridegrooms disapprove what they do,</p> +<p>They teach them manners with the bastinado.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Near Te-pott’s palace lived an old Chinese—</p> +<p class="i2">About as poor a man as could be known</p> +<p>In lands where guardians leave them to their ease,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor pen the poor up in bastilles of stone:</p> +<p>He got a livelihood by picking teas;</p> +<p class="i2">And of possessions worldly had but one—</p> +<p>But one—the which, the reader must be told,</p> +<p>Was a fair daughter seventeen years old.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>She was a lovely little girl, and one</p> +<p class="i2">To charm the wits of both the high and <em>the</em> +low;</p> +<p>And Te-pott’s ancient heart was lost and won</p> +<p class="i2">In less time than ’twould take my pen to tell +how:</p> +<p>So, as he was quite an experienced son-</p> +<p class="i2">In-law, and, too, a very wily fellow,</p> +<p>To make Hy-son his friend was no hard matter, I</p> +<p>Ween, with that specific for parents—flattery.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But, when they two had settled all between</p> +<p class="i2">Themselves, and Te-pott thought that he had caught +her,</p> +<p>He found how premature his hopes had been</p> +<p class="i2">Without the approbation of the daughter—</p> +<p>Who talk’d with voice so loud and wit so keen,</p> +<p class="i2">That he thought all his Mrs. T’s had taught +her;</p> +<p>And, finding he was in the way there rather,</p> +<p>He left her to be lectured by her father.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Pray, what were women made for” (so she said,</p> +<p class="i2">Though Heaven forbid I join such tender saying),</p> +<p>“If they to be accounted are as dead,</p> +<p class="i2">And strangled if they ever are caught straying?</p> +<p>Tis well to give us diamonds for the head,</p> +<p class="i2">And silken gauds for festival arraying;</p> +<p>But where of dress or diamonds is the use</p> +<p>If we mayn’t go and show them? that’s the +deuce!”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The father answer’d, much as fathers do</p> +<p class="i2">In cases of like nature here in Britain,</p> +<p>Where fathers seldom let fortunes slip through</p> +<p class="i2">Their fingers, when they think that they can get +one;</p> +<p>He said a many things extremely true—</p> +<p class="i2">Proving that girls are fine things to be quit on,</p> +<p>And that, could she accommodate her views to it,</p> +<p>She would find marriage very nice when used to it.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Now, ’tis no task to talk a woman into</p> +<p class="i2">Love, or a dance, or into dressing fine—</p> +<p>No task, I’ve heard, to talk her into sin too;</p> +<p class="i2">But, somehow, reason don’t seem in her +line.</p> +<p>And so Miss Hy-son, spite of kith and kin too,</p> +<p class="i2">Persisting such a husband to decline—</p> +<p>The eager mandarin issued a warrant,</p> +<p>And got her apprehended by her parent.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thus the poor girl was caught, for there was no</p> +<p class="i2">Appeal against so wealthy lover’s fiat:</p> +<p>She must e’en be a wife of his, and so</p> +<p class="i2">She yielded him her hand demure and quiet;</p> +<p>For ladies seldom cry unless they know</p> +<p class="i2">There’s somebody convenient to cry +<em>at</em>—</p> +<p>And; though it is consoling, on reflection</p> +<p>Such fierce emotions ruin the complexion.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE.</h3> +<p>Yesterday Paddy Green honoured that great artist William Hogarth +Teniers Raphael Bunks, Esq., with a sitting for a likeness. The +portrait, which will doubtless be an admirable one, is stated to be +destined to adorn one of Mr. Catnach’s ballads, namely, +“The Monks of Old!” which Mr. P. Green, in most +obliging manner, has allowed to appear.</p> +<p>William Paul took a walk yesterday as far as Houndsditch, in +company with Jeremiah Donovan. A pair of left-off unmentionables is +confidently reported to be the cause of their visit in the +“far East.”</p> +<p>The lady of Paddy Green, Esquire, on Wednesday last, with that +kindness which has always distinguished her, caused to be +distributed a platterful of trotter bones amongst the starving dogs +of the neighbourhood.</p> +<p>From information exclusively our own, and for whose correctness +we would stake our hump, we learn that James Burke, the honoured +member of the P.R., was seen to walk home on the night of Tuesday +last with three fresh herrings on a twig. After supper, he consoled +himself with a pint of fourpenny ale.</p> +<p>Charles Mears yesterday took a ride in a Whitechapel omnibus. He +alighted at Aldgate Pump, at which he took a draught of water from +the ladle. He afterwards regaled on a couple of polonies and a +penny loaf.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE UNKINDEST CUT OF ALL.</h3> +<p>Jones, the journeyman tailor who was charged before Sir Peter +Laurie with being drunk and disorderly in Fleet-street, escaped the +penalty of his frolic by an extraordinary whim of justice. The +young schneider, it appears, sported a luxuriant crop of hair, the +fashion of which not pleasing the fancy of the city Rhadamanthus, +he remitted the fine on condition that the delinquent should +instantly cut off the offending hairs. A barber being sent for, the +operation was instantly performed; and Sir Peter, with a spirit of +generosity only to be equalled by his <em>cutting</em> humour, +actually put his hand in his breeches-pocket and handed over to the +official Figaro his fee of one shilling. The shorn tailor left the +office protesting that Sir Peter had not treated him handsomely, as +he had only consented to sacrifice his flowing locks, but that the +Alderman had cabbaged his whiskers as well.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A CELESTIAL CON.</h3> +<p>Why is wit like a Chinese lady’s foot?—Because +brevity is the <em>sole</em> of it!</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page222" name="page222"></a>[pg +222]</span> +<h2>THE PRINCE OF WALES.—HIS FUTURE TIMES.</h2> +<p>A private letter from Hanover states that, precisely at twelve +minutes to eleven in the morning on the ninth of the present +November, his Majesty King ERNEST was suddenly attacked by a +violent fit of blue devils. All the court doctors were immediately +summoned, and as immediately dismissed, by his Majesty, who sent +for the Wizard of the North (recently appointed royal astrologer), +to divine the mysterious cause of this so sudden melancholy. In a +trice the mystery was solved—Queen Victoria “was +happily delivered of a Prince!” His Majesty was immediately +assisted to his chamber—put to bed—the curtains +drawn—all the royal household ordered to wear list +slippers—the one knocker to the palace was carefully tied +up—and (on the departure of our courier) half a load of straw +was already deposited beneath the window of the royal chamber. The +sentinels on duty were prohibited from even sneezing, under pain of +death, and all things in and about the palace, to use a bran new +simile, were silent as the grave!</p> +<p>“Whilst there was only the Princess Royal there were many +hopes. There was hope from severe teething—hope from +measles—hope from hooping-cough—but with the addition +of a Prince of Wales, the hopes of Hanover are below par.” +But we pause. We will no further invade the sanctity of the sorrows +of a king; merely observing, that what makes his Majesty very +savage, makes hundreds of thousands of Englishmen mighty glad. +There are now two cradles between the Crown of England and the +White Horse of Hanover.</p> +<p>We have a Prince of Wales! Whilst, however, England is throwing +up its million caps in rapture at the advent, let it not be +forgotten to whom we owe the royal baby. In the clamourousness of +our joy the fact would have escaped us, had we not received a +letter from Colonel SIBTHORP, who assures us that we owe a Prince +of Wales entirely to the present cabinet; had the Whigs remained in +office, the infant would inevitably have been a girl.</p> +<p>For our own part—but we confess we are sometimes apt to +look too soberly at things—we think her Majesty (may all good +angels make her caudle!) is, inadvertently no doubt, treated in a +questionable spirit of compliment by these uproarious rejoicings at +the sex of the illustrious little boy, who has cast, if possible, a +new dignity upon Lord Mayor’s day, and made the very giants +of Guildhall shoot up an inch taller at the compliment he has paid +them of visiting the world on the ninth of November. In our playful +enthusiasm, we have—that is, the public +<em>We</em>—declared we must have a Prince of Wales—we +should be dreadfully in the dumps if the child were not a +Prince—the Queen must have a Prince—a bouncing +Prince—and nothing but a Prince. Now might not an ill-natured +Philosopher (but all philosophers are ill-natured) interpret these +yearnings for masculine royalty as something like pensive regrets +that the throne should ever be filled by the feminine sex? For own +part we are perfectly satisfied that the Queen (may she live to see +the Prince of Wales wrinkled and white-headed!) is a Queen, and +think VICTORIA THE FIRST sounds quite as musically—has in it +as full a note of promise—as if the regal name had +run—GEORGE THE FIFTH! We think there is a positive want of +gallantry at this unequivocally shouted preference of a Prince of +Wales. Nevertheless, we are happy to say, the pretty, good-tempered +Princess Royal (she is <em>not</em> blind, as the Tories once +averred; but then the Whigs were <em>in</em>) still laughs and +chirrups as if nothing had happened. Nay, as a proof of the happy +nature of the infant (we beg to say that the fact is copyright, as +we purchased it of the reporter of <em>The Observer</em>), whilst, +on the ninth instant, the chimes of St. Martin’s were +sounding merrily for the birth of the Prince, the Princess +magnanimously shook her coral-bells in welcome of her dispossessing +brother!</p> +<p>Independently of the sensation made in the City by the new glory +that has fallen upon the ninth of November (it is said that Sir +PETER LAURIE has been so rapt by the auspicious coincidence, that +he has done nothing since but talk and think of “the Prince +of Wales”—that on Wednesday last he rebuked an infant +beggar with, “I’ve nothing for you, <em>Prince of +Wales</em>”)—independently of the lustre flung upon the +new Lord Mayor and the Lord Mayor just out—who will, it is +said, both be caudle-cup baronets, the occasion has given birth to +much deep philosophy on the part of our contemporaries—so +deep, that there is no getting to the end of it, and has also +revived much black-letter learning connected with the birth of +every Prince of Wales, from the first to the last—and, +therefore, certainly not least—new-comer.</p> +<p>An hour or so after George the Fourth was born, we are told that +the waggons containing the treasure of the <em>Hermione</em>, a +Spanish galleon, captured off St. Vincent by three English +frigates, entered St. James’s street, escorted by cavalry and +infantry, with trumpets sounding, the enemy’s flags waving +over the waggons, and the whole surrounded by an immense multitude +of spectators. Now here, to the vulgar mind, was a happy augury of +the future golden reign of the Royal baby. He comes upon the earth +amid a shower of gold! The melodious chink of doubloons and pieces +of eight echo his first infant wailings! What a theme for the +gipsies of the press—the fortune-tellers of the time! At the +present hour that baby sleeps the last sleep in St. George’s +chapel; and we have his public and his social history before us. +What does experience—the experience bought and paid for by +hard, hard cash—<em>now</em> read in the “waggons of +treasure,” groaning musically to the rocking-cradle of the +callow infant? Simply, the babe of Queen Charlotte would be a very +expensive babe indeed; and that the wealth of a Spanish galleon was +all insufficient for the youngling’s future wants.</p> +<p>We have been favoured, among a series of pictures, with the +following of George the Fourth, exhibited in his babyhood. We are +told that “all persons <em>of fashion</em> were admitted to +see the Prince, under the following restrictions, viz.—that +in passing through the apartment <em>they stepped with the greatest +caution</em>, and did not offer to touch his Royal Highness. For +the greater security in this respect, a part of the apartment was +latticed off <em>in the Chinese manner</em>, to prevent curious +persons from approaching too nearly.”</p> +<p>That lattice “in the Chinese manner” was a small yet +fatal fore-shadowing of the Chinese Pavilion at Brighton—of +that temple, worthy of Pekin, wherein the Royal infant of +threescore was wont to enshrine himself, not from the desecrating +touch of the world, but even from the eyes of a curious people, +who, having paid some millions toward manufacturing the most +finished gentleman in Europe, had now and then a wish—an +unregarded wish—to look at their expensive handiwork.</p> +<p>What different prognostics have we in the natal day of our +present Prince of Wales! What rational hopes from many +circumstances that beset him. The Royal infant, we are told, is +suckled by a person “named Brough, formerly a +<em>housemaid</em> at Esher.” From this very fact, will not +the Royal child grow up with the consciousness that he owes his +nourishment even to the very humblest of the people? Will he not +suck in the humanising truth with his very milk?</p> +<p>And then for the Spanish treasure—“hard food for +Midas”—that threw its jaundiced glory about the cradle +of George the Fourth; what is that to the promise of plenty, +augured by the natal day of our present Prince? Comes he not on the +ninth of November? Is not his advent glorified by the aromatic +clouds of the Lord Mayor’s kitchen?—Let every man, +woman, and child possess themselves of a <em>Times</em> newspaper +of the 10th ult.; for there, in genial companionship with the +chronicle of the birth of the Prince, is the luscious history of +the Lord Mayor’s dinner. We quit Buckingham Palace, our mind +full of our dear little Queen, the Royal baby, Prince +Albert—(who, as <em>The Standard</em> informs us +subsequently, bows “bare-headed” to the +populace,)—the Archbishop of Canterbury, Doctor Locock, the +Duke of Wellington, and the monthly nurse, and immediately fall +upon the civic “general bill of fare,”—the real +turtle at the City board.</p> +<p>Oh, men of Paisley—good folks of Bolton—what promise +for ye is here! Turkeys, capons, sirloins, asparagus, pheasants, +pine-apples, Savoy cakes, Chantilly baskets, mince pies, preserved +ginger, brandy cherries, a thousand luscious cakes that “the +sense aches at!” What are all these gifts of plenty, but a +glad promise that in the time of the “sweetest young +Prince,” that on the birth-day of that Prince just vouchsafed +to us, all England will be a large Lord Mayor’s table! Will +it be possible for Englishmen to dissassociate in their minds the +Prince of Wales and the Prince of good Fellows? And whereas the +reigns of other potentates are signalised by bloodshed and war, the +time of the Prince will be glorified by cooking and good cheer. His +drum-sticks will be the drum-sticks of turkeys—his cannon, +the popping of corks. In his day, even weavers shall know the taste +of geese, and factory-children smack their lips at the gravy of the +great sirloin. Join your glasses! brandish your carving-knives! cry +welcome to the Prince of Wales! for he comes garnished with all the +world’s good things. He shall live in the hearts, and (what +is more) in the stomachs of his people!</p> +<p class="rgt">Q.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>PROPER PRECAUTION.</h3> +<p>Everybody is talking of the great impropriety that has been +practised in keeping gunpowder within the Tower; and the papers are +<em>blowing up</em> the authorities with astounding violence for +their alleged laxity. “Gunpowder,” say the angry +journalists, “ought only to be kept where there is no +possibility of a spark getting to it.”—We suggest the +bottom of the Thames, as the only place where, in future, this +precious preparation can be securely deposited.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page223" name="page223"></a>[pg +223]</span> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/019-07.png"><img src= +"images/019-07.png" alt= +"Polictians reenact a scene from 'The Vicar of Wakefield'." id= +"img019-07" name="img019-07" width="100%" /></a> +<p>OLIVIA’S RETURN TO HER FRIENDS.</p> +<p>“I ENTREAT, WOMAN, THAT MY WORDS MAY BE NOW MARKED, ONCE +FOR ALL; I HAVE HERE BROUGHT YOU BACK A POOR DELUDED WANDERER; HER +RETURN TO DUTY DEMANDS THE REVIVAL OF OUR TENDERNESS. THE KINDNESS +OF HEAVEN IS PROMISED TO THE PENITENT, AND LET OURS BE DIRECTED BY +THE EXAMPLE.”</p> +<p style="text-align:right;"><em>Vicar of Wakefield</em>, Chap. +XXII.</p> +</div> +<!-- [pg 224] --> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page225" name="page225"></a>[pg +225]</span> +<h2>THE PHYSIOLOGY OF THE LONDON MEDICAL STUDENT.</h2> +<h3>8.—OF THE EXAMINATION AT APOTHECARIES’ HALL.</h3> +<div class="dropcap"><a href="images/019-08.png"><img src= +"images/019-08.png" alt= +"Two Chinese men face each other with their queues standing out to form a letter T." +id="img019-08" name="img019-08" width="100%" /></a></div> +<p><span class="hidden">T</span>he last task that devolves upon our +student before he goes up to the Hall is to hunt up his +testimonials of attendance to lectures and good moral conduct in +his apprenticeship, together with his parochial certificate of age +and baptism. The first of these is the chief point to obtain; the +two last he generally writes himself, in the style best consonant +with his own feelings and the date of his indenture. His +“morality ticket” is as follows:—</p> +<p class="cen">(Copy.)</p> +<p>“I hereby certify, that during the period Mr. Joseph Muff +served his time with me he especially recommended himself to my +notice by his studious and attentive habits, highly moral and +gentlemanly conduct, and excellent disposition. He always availed +himself of every opportunity to improve his professional +knowledge.”</p> +<p class="cen">(Signed)</p> +<p class="rgt">According to the name on the indenture.</p> +<p>The certificate of attendance upon lectures is only obtained in +its most approved state by much clever manoeuvring. It is important +to bear in mind that a lecturer should never be asked whilst he is +loitering about the school for his signature of the student’s +diligence. He may then have time to recollect his ignorance of his +pupil’s face at his discourses. He should always be caught +flying—either immediately before or after his +lecture—in order that the whole business may be too hurried +to admit of investigation. In the space left for the degree of +attention which the student has shown, it is better that he +subscribes nothing at all than an indifferent report; because, in +the former case, the student can fill it up to his own +satisfaction. He usually prefers the phrase—“with +unremitting diligence.”</p> +<p>And having arrived at this important section of our Physiology, +it behoves us to publish, for the benefit of medical students in +general, and those about to go up in particular, the following</p> +<h4>CODE OF INSTRUCTIONS</h4> +<h5>TO BE OBSERVED BY THOSE PREPARING FOR EXAMINATION AT THE +HALL.</h5> +<ol> +<li> +<p>Previously to going up, take some pills and get your hair cut. +This not only clears your faculties, but improves your appearance. +The Court of Examiners dislike long hair.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>Do not drink too much stout before you go in, with the idea that +it will give you pluck. It renders you very valiant for half an +hour and then muddles your notions with indescribable +confusion.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>Having arrived at the Hall, put your rings and chains in your +pocket, and, if practicable, publish a pair of spectacles. This +will endow you with a grave look.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>On taking your place at the table, if you wish to gain time, +feign to be intensely frightened. One of the examiners will then +rise to give you a tumbler of water, which you may, with good +effect, rattle tremulously against your teeth when drinking. This +may possibly lead them to excuse bad answers on the score of +extreme nervous trepidation.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>Should things appear to be going against you, get up a hectic +cough, which is easily imitated, and look acutely miserable, which +you will probably do without trying.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>Endeavour to assume an off-hand manner of answering; and when +you have stated any pathological fact—right or +wrong—<em>stick to it</em>; if they want a case for example, +invent one, “that happened when you were an apprentice in the +country.” This assumed confidence will sometimes bother them. +We knew a student who once swore at the Hall, that he gave opium in +a case of concussion of the brain, and that the patient never +required anything else. It was true—he never did.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>Should you be fortunate enough to pass, go to your hospital next +day and report your examination, describing it as the most +extraordinary ordeal of deep-searching questions ever undergone. +This will make the professors think well of you, and the new men +deem yon little less than a mental Colossus. Say, also, “you +were complimented by the Court.” This advice is, however, +scarcely necessary, as we never know a student pass who was not +thus honoured—according to his own account.</p> +</li> +</ol> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>All things being arranged to his satisfaction, he deposits his +papers under the care of Mr. Sayer, and passes the interval before +the fatal day much in the same state of mind as a condemned +criminal. At last Thursday arrives, and at a quarter to four, any +person who takes the trouble to station himself at the corner of +Union-street will see various groups of three and four young men +wending their way towards the portals of Apothecaries’ Hall, +consisting of students about to be examined, accompanied by friends +who come down with them to keep up their spirits. They approach the +door, and shake hands as they give and receive wishes of success. +The wicket closes on the candidates, and their friends adjourn to +the “Retail Establishment” opposite, to <em>go the odd +man</em> and pledge their anxious companions in dissector’s +diet-drink—<em>vulgo</em>, half-and-half.</p> +<p>Leaving them to their libations, we follow our old friend Mr. +Joseph Muff. He crosses the paved court-yard with the air of a man +who had lost half-a-crown and found a halfpenny; and through the +windows sees the assistants dispensing plums, pepper, and +prescriptions, with provoking indifference. Turning to the left, he +ascends a solemn-looking staircase, adorned with severe black +figures in niches, who support lamps. On the top of the staircase +he enters a room, wherein the partners of his misery are collected. +It is a long narrow apartment, commonly known as “the +funking-room,” ornamented with a savage-looking fireplace at +one end, and a huge surly chest at the other; with gloomy presses +against the walls, containing dry mouldy books in harsh, repulsive +bindings. The windows look into the court; and the glass is scored +by diamond rings, and the shutters pencilled with names and +sentences, which Mr. Muff regards with feelings similar to those he +would experience in contemplating the inscriptions on the walls of +a condemned cell. The very chairs in the room look overbearing and +unpleasant; and the whole locality is invested with an +overallishness of unanswerable questions and intricate botheration. +Some of the students are marching up and down the room in feverish +restlessness; others, arm in arm, are worrying each other to death +with questions; and the rest are grinding away to the last minute +at a manual, or trying to write minute atomic numbers on their +thumb-nail.</p> +<p>The clock strikes five, and Mr. Sayer enters the room, +exclaiming—“Mr. Manhug, Mr. Jones, Mr. Saxby, and Mr. +Collins.” The four depart to the chamber of examination, +where the medical inquisition awaits them, with every species of +mental torture to screw their brains instead of their thumbs, and +rack their intellects instead of their limbs,—the chair on +which the unfortunate student is placed being far more uneasy than +the tightest fitting “Scavenger’s daughter” in +the Tower of London. After an anxious hour, Mr. Jones returns, with +a light bounding step to a joyous extempore air of his own +composing: he has passed. In another twenty minutes Mr. Saxby walks +fiercely in, calls for his hat, condemns the examiners <em>ad +inferos</em>, swears he shall cut the profession, and marches away. +He has been plucked; and Mr. Muff, who stands sixth on the list, is +called on to make his appearance before the awful tribunal.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>REGULARLY CALLED IN—AND BOWLED OUT.</h3> +<p>Dr. Demosthenes &c. &c. &c. &c. Bedford, who has +lately broken out in a new place, has been accused by the lieges of +the Borough of having acted in a most unprofessional manner; in +short, with having lost his <em>patience</em>. He, Dr. Demosthenes +&c. begs to state, the only surgical operation he ever +attempted was most successful, notwithstanding it was the difficult +one of amputating his “mahogany;” and he further adds, +the only case he ever had is still in his hand, it being a most +obstinate</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/019-09.png"><img src= +"images/019-09.png" alt= +"Two men appear angry with each other -- and there are cards strewn about." +id="img019-09" name="img019-09" width="70%" /></a> +<p>CARD CASE.</p> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page226" name="page226"></a>[pg +226]</span> +<h2>THE PRINCE OF WALES.</h2> +<p class="cen">(<em>By the Observer’s Own +Correspondent.</em>)</p> +<p>Knowing the anxiety that will be felt on this subject, though we +doubt if the future King can be called <em>a subject</em> at all, +we have collected the following exclusive particulars:—</p> +<h3>THE PRINCE’S TITLE.</h3> +<p>His Royal Highness will for the present go by the title of +“Poppet,” affectionately conferred upon him by Mrs. +Lilly at the moment of his birth. Poppet is a title of very great +antiquity, and has from time immemorial been used as a mark of +endearment towards a newly-born child in all genteel families. +Lovey-Dovey has been spoken of; but it is not likely that His Royal +Highness will assume the style and dignity of Lovey-Dovey for a +considerable period.</p> +<h3>THE PRINCE’S INCOME.</h3> +<p>Considerable mistakes have been fallen into by some of our +contemporaries on this important subject. What may be the present +wishes of His Royal Highness it is impossible for any one to +ascertain, for he is able to articulate nothing on this point with +his little pipe; but the piper, we know, must be eventually paid. +He becomes immediately entitled to all the loose halfpence in his +mother’s reticule, and sixpence a-week will be at once +payable out of his father’s estates at Saxe Gotha. The whole +of the revenues attached to the Duchy of Cornwall are also his by +the mere fact of his birth: but there is a difficulty as to his +giving a receipt for the money, if it should be paid to him. It is +believed, that on the meeting of Parliament a Bill will pass for +granting peg-top money to His Royal Highness, and a lollipop +allowance will be among the earliest estimates.</p> +<h3>THE PRINCE’S MILITARY RANK.</h3> +<p>The Prince of Wales is by birth at the head of all the +<em>Infantry</em> in the kingdom, and is Colonel in his own right +of a regiment of tin soldiers.</p> +<h3>THE PRINCE’S WARDROBE.</h3> +<p>The Prince falls at once into all the long frocks that are +required, and has an estate tail in six dozen napkins.</p> +<h3>THE PRINCE’S EDUCATION.</h3> +<p>This important matter will be confined at present to teaching +His Royal Highness how to take his pap without spilling it. A +professor from the pap-al states will, it is expected, be entrusted +with this branch of the royal economy.</p> +<h3>THE PRINCE’S WET-NURSE.</h3> +<p>Our contemporaries are wrong in stating that the individual to +whom the post of wet-nurse has been assigned is nothing but a +housemaid. We have full authority to state that she is no maid at +all, but a respectable married woman.</p> +<h3>THE PRINCE’S HONOURS.</h3> +<p>His Royal Highness has not yet been created a Knight of the +Garter, though Sir James Clark insisted on his being admitted to +the Bath, against which ceremony the infant Prince entered a +vociferous protest.</p> +<p>The whole of the above particulars may be relied on as having +been furnished from the very highest authority.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A BARROWKNIGHT.</h3> +<p>SIR WILLOUGHBY COTTON, during his visit to the Mansion-House +Feast, in a moment of forgetfulness after the song of “Hurrah +for the Road,” being asked to take wine with the new Lord +Mayor, declined the honour in the genuine long-stage phraseology, +declaring he had already whacked his fare, and was quite</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/019-10.png"><img src= +"images/019-10.png" alt="One man pushes another in a wheelbarrow." +id="img019-10" name="img019-10" width="50%" /></a> +<p>FULL INSIDE.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>MAGISTERIAL AXIOMS.</h3> +<h4>VIDE POLICE REPORTS.</h4> +<p>An Irishman will <em>swear anything</em>.—<em>Mr. +Grove</em>.</p> +<p>A man who wears long hair is <em>capable of +anything</em>.—<em>Sir Peter Laurie</em>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE ROYAL BULLETINS.</h3> +<p>The documents lately shown at Buckingham Palace are spurious, +and the real ones have been suppressed from party motives, which we +shall not allude to. The following are genuine; they relate only to +the Prince, the convalescence of Her Majesty being, we are glad to +say, so rapid as to require no official notice.</p> +<p class="rgt"><em>Half-past Twelve</em>.</p> +<p>The Prince has sneezed, and it is believed has smiled, though +the nurses are unable to pronounce whether the expression of +pleasure arose from satisfaction or cholic.</p> +<p class="rgt"><em>Quarter past One</em>.</p> +<p>The Prince has passed a comfortable minute, and is much +easier.</p> +<p class="rgt"><em>Two O’Clock</em>.</p> +<p>The Prince is fast asleep, and is more quiet.</p> +<p class="rgt"><em>Half-past Two</em>.</p> +<p>The Prince has been shown to Sir Robert Peel, and was very +fretful.</p> +<p class="rgt"><em>Three O’Clock</em>.</p> +<p>Sir Robert Peel has left the Palace, and the Prince is again +perfectly composed.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>DEVILLED DRUMSTICKS.</h3> +<p>Our own Sir Peter Laurie, upon witnessing the extraordinary +performance of little Wieland in <em>Die Hexen am Rhein</em>, at +the Adelphi Theatre, was so transported with his diabolic agility, +that he determined upon endeavouring to arrive at the same +perfection of pliability. As a guide for his undertaking, he +instantly despatched old Hobler for a folio edition of</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/019-11.png"><img src= +"images/019-11.png" alt= +"A devilish-looking chimera stands on its hands." id="img019-11" +name="img019-11" width="30%" /></a> +<p>IMPEY’S PRACTICE.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>BRANDY AND WATERFORD. (A GO!)</h3> +<p>The Marquis of Waterford, upon his recent visit to Devonshire, +was much struck with the peculiar notice upon the County +Stretchers. Being overtaken by some of their extra-bottled +apple-juice, he tested the truth of the statement, and found them +literally “licensed to carry <em>one in cyder</em>” +(<em>one insider</em>).</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE WHEELS OF FORTUNE.</h3> +<p>SIR WYNDHAM ANSTRUTHER, whose “Young Rapid” +connexion with the <em>Stage</em> is pretty generally known, boasts +that his stud was unrivalled for speed, as he managed with his four +to “run through” his whole estates in six months, which +he thinks a pretty decent proof that his might well be +considered</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/019-12.png"><img src= +"images/019-12.png" alt= +"A carriage marked 'Bath' crosses through a river since the bridge is broken." +id="img019-12" name="img019-12" width="90%" /></a> +<p>A FAST COACH.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>SEEING NOTHING</h3> +<p>COMMISSIONER HARVEY and his old crony, Joe Hume, were talking +lately of the wonders which the latter had seen in his +travels—“You have been on Mont Blanc,” said +Whittle. “Certainly,” replied the other. “And +what did you see there?” “Why really,” said Joe, +“it is always so wrapped up in a double-milled fog, that +there is nothing to be seen from it.” “Nothing!” +echoed he of the Blues; “I never knew till now why it was +called Mount <em>Blank</em>.” As this was the +Commissioner’s first attempt at a witticism, we forgive +him.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page227" name="page227"></a>[pg +227]</span> +<h3>MORE FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE.</h3> +<p class="cen">(FROM OUR OWN ONE.)</p> +<p>A marriage is on the <em>tapis</em> between Mr. John Smith, the +distinguished toll-collector at the Marsh Gate, and Miss Julia +Belinda Snooks, the lovely and accomplished daughter of the gallant +out-pensioner of Greenwich Hospital. Should the wedding take place, +the bridegroom will be given away by Mr. Levy, the great +toll-contractor; while the blushing bride will be attended to the +altar by her mother-in-law, the well-known laundress of +Tash-street. The <em>trousseau</em>, consisting of a selection from +a bankrupt’s stock of damaged <em>de laines</em>, has been +purchased at Lambeth House; and a parasol carefully chosen from a +lot of 500, all at one-and-ninepence, will be presented by the +happy bridegroom on the morning of the marriage. A cabman has +already been spoken to, and a shilling fare has been sketched out +for the eventful morning, which is so arranged as to terminate at +the toll-house, from which Mr. Smith can only be absent for about +an hour, during which time the toll will be taken by an amateur of +celebrity.</p> +<p>Among the fashionables at the Bower Saloon, we observed Messrs. +Jones and Brown, Mr. J. Jones, Mr. H. Jones, Mr. M. Brown, Mr. K. +Brown, and several other distinguished leaders of the <em>ton</em> +in Stangate.</p> +<p>There is no truth in the report that Tom Timkins intends +resigning his seat at the apple-stall in the New Cut; and the +rumours of a successor are therefore premature and indelicate.</p> +<p>The vacant crossing opposite the Victoria has not been offered +to Bill Swivel, nor is it intended that any one shall be appointed +to the post in the Circus.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>CONS. WORTH CONNING.</h3> +<p>Why is the making a <em>mem.</em> of the number of a +person’s residence like a general election?—Because +it’s done to re-member <em>the house</em>.</p> +<p>Why is Count D’Orsay a capital piece of furniture for a +kitchen?—Because he’s a <em>good dresser</em>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>MORBID SYMPATHY FOR CRIMINALS.</h3> +<p>Our contemporary, the <em>Times</em>, for the last few days has +been very justly deprecating the existing morbid sympathy for +criminals. The moment that a man sins against the conventionalities +of society he ought certainly to be excluded from all claims upon +the sympathy of his fellows. It is very true that even the felon +has kindred, parents, wife, children—for whom, and in whom, +God has implanted an instinctive love. It is true that the criminal +may have been led by the example of aristocratic sinners to +disregard the injunctions of revealed religion against the +adulterer, the gamester, and the drunkard; and having imitated the +“pleasant follies” of the great without possessing the +requisite means for such enjoyments, the man of pleasure has +degenerated into the man of crime. It is true that the poor and +ignorant may have claims upon the wealth and the intelligence of +the rich and learned; but are we to pause to inquire whether want +may have driven the destitute to theft, or the absence of early +instruction have left the physical desires of the offender’s +nature superior to its moral restrictions.—Certainly not, +whilst we have a gallows. There is, however, one difficulty which +seems to interfere with a liberal exercise of the rope and the +beam. Where are we to find executioners? for if “whoso +sheddeth man’s blood” be amenable to man, surely Jack +Ketch is not to be exempted.</p> +<p>The <em>Times</em> condemns the late Lord Chamberlain for +allowing the representation of “Jack Sheppard” and +“Madame Laffarge” at the Adelphi; so do we. The +<em>Times</em> intimates, that “the newspapers teem with +details about everything which such criminals ‘as Dick Turpin +and Jack Sheppard’ say or do; that complete biographies of +them are presented to the public; that report after report +expatiates upon every refinement and peculiarity in their +wickedness,” for “the good purpose” of warning +the embryo highwayman. We are something more than <em>duberous</em> +of this. We can see no difference between the exhibition of the +stage and the gloating of the broadsheet; they are both “the +agents by which the exploits of the gay highwayman are realised +before his eyes, amid a brilliant and evidently sympathising” +public. We deprecate both, as tending to excite the weak-minded to +gratify “the ambition of this kind of +notoriety;”—and yet we say, with the <em>Times</em>, +there should be “no sympathy for criminals.”</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE MALE DALILAH.</h3> +<p>Sir Peter Laurie’s aversion to long locks is accounted for +by his change of political opinions, he having some time since +<em>cut the W(h)igs</em>.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>A “PUNCH” TESTIMONIAL.</h2> +<p>We are virtuously happy to announce that a meeting has been held +at the <em>Hum</em>-mums Hotel, Colonel Sibthorp in the chair, for +the purpose of presenting to PUNCH some testimonial of public +esteem for his exertions in the detection and exposure of +fraudulent wits and would-be distinguished characters.</p> +<p>COLONEL SIBTHORP thanked the meeting for the honour they had +conferred upon him in electing him their chairman upon this +occasion. None knew better than himself the service that PUNCH had +rendered to the public. But for that fun fed individual his (Col. +Sibthorp’s) own brilliant effusions would have been left to +have smouldered in his brain, or have hung like cobwebs about the +House of Commons. (<em>Hear, hear</em>!) But PUNCH had stepped in +to the rescue; he had not only preserved some of the brilliant +things that he (Col. Sibthorp) had said, but had also reported many +of the extremely original witticisms that he had intended to have +uttered. (<em>Hear</em>!) There were many honourable +gentlemen—(he begged pardon—gentlemen, he meant, +without the honourable; but he had been so long a member of +parliament that he had acquired a habit of calling men and things +out of their proper names). Apologising for so lengthy a +parenthesis, he would say that there were many gentlemen who were +equally indebted (<em>hear! from Sir Peter Laurie, Peter Borthwick, +and Pre-Adam Roebuck</em>) to this jocular benefactor. “It +was PUNCH,” said the gallant gentleman, with much feeling, +“who first convinced me that the popular opinion of my +asinine capabilities was erroneous. It was PUNCH who discovered +that there was as much in my head as on it(<em>loud cheers, +produced doubtlessly by the aptness of the simile, the gallant +Colonel being perfectly bald</em>). I should, therefore, be the +most ungrateful of Members for Lincoln, did I not entreat of this +meeting to mark their high sense of Mr. PUNCH’S exertions by +a liberal subscription” (<em>cheers</em>).</p> +<p>SIR PETER LAURIE acknowledged himself equally in debt with their +gallant Chairman to the object of the present meeting. He (Sir +Peter) had tried all schemes to obtain popularity—he had made +speeches without number or meaning—he had done double duty at +the Mansion-house, and had made Mr. Hobler laugh more heartily than +any Lord Mayor or Alderman since the days of Whittington (during +whose mayoralty the venerable Chief Clerk first took +office)—he (Sir P. Laurie) had, after much difficulty and +four years’ practice, received the Queen on horseback +(<em>much cheering</em>); but (<em>continued +cheering</em>)—but it was left for PUNCH to achieve his +immortality (<em>immense cheering—several squares of glass in +the conservatory opposite broken by the explosion</em>). He (Sir P. +Laurie) had done all in his power to deserve the notice of that +illustrious wooden individual. He had endeavoured to be much more +ass—(<em>loud cheers</em>)—iduous than ever. PUNCH had +rewarded him; and he therefore felt it his bounden duty to reward +PUNCH. (<em>Hear! hear!</em>)</p> +<p>MR. ROEBUCK fully concurred in the preceding eulogies. What had +not PUNCH done for him? Had not PUNCH extinguished the +<em>Times</em> by the honest way in which he had advocated his +(Roebuck’s) injured genealogy? Had PUNCH not proved that he +(Mr. Roebuck) had a father, which the “mendacious +journal” had asserted was impossible? Had not PUNCH traced +the Roebuck family as far back as 1801?—that was something! +But he (Mr. Roebuck) believed that he had been injured by an error +of the press, and that PUNCH had written the numerals 1081. Be that +as it might, he (Mr. Roebuck) was anxious to discharge the +overwhelming debt of gratitude which he owed to MR. PUNCH, and +intended to subscribe very largely (<em>cheers</em>).</p> +<p>MR. PETER BORTHWICK had been in former years a Shaksperian +actor. He had for many seasons, at the “Royal Rugby +Barn,” had the honour of bearing the principal banners in all +the imposing processions, “got up at an immense +expense” in that unique establishment. (<em>Hear</em>!) He +was, therefore, better qualified than any gentleman present to form +an opinion of the services which Punch had rendered to the British +Drama (<em>loud and continued cheers, during which Mr. Yates rushed +on to the platform, and bowed several times to the assembled +multitude</em>). Therefore, as a devoted admirer of that art which +he (Peter) trusted HE and Shakspere had adorned (<em>cheers</em>), +he fondly hoped that the meeting would at once take tickets, when +he announced that the performance was for the benefit of Mr. +PUNCH.</p> +<p>LORD MORPETH next presented himself; but our reporter, having +promised to take tea with his grandmother, left before the Noble +Lord opened his mouth.</p> +<p>We hope next week to furnish the remainder of the speeches, and +a very long list of subscriptions.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page228" name="page228"></a>[pg +228]</span> +<h2>THE RAPE OF THE LOCK-UP;</h2> +<h3>OR, SIR PETER LAURIE ON CRIME AND THE CROPS.</h3> +<p>We believe no longing was ever more firmly planted in the human +heart, than that of discovering some short cut to the high road of +mental acquirement. The toilsome learner’s +“Progress” through the barren outset of the alphabet; +the slough of despond of seven syllables, endangered as they both +are by the frequent appearance of the compulsive birch of the Mr. +Worldly-wisemen who teach the young idea how to shoot, must ever be +looked upon as a probation, the power of avoiding which is “a +consummation devoutly to be wished.” Imbued with this +feeling, the more speculative of past ages have frequently +attempted to arrive, by external means, at the immediate possession +of results otherwise requiring a long course of intense study and +anxious inquiry. From these defunct illuminati originated the +suppositionary virtues of the magically-endowed divining wand. The +simple bending of a forked hazel twig, being the received sign of +the deep-buried well, suited admirably with their notions of +immediate information, and precluded the unpleasant and toilsome +necessity for delving on speculation for the discovery of their +desired object. But, alas, divining rods, like dogs, have had their +day. The want of faith in the operators, or the growth of a new and +obstinate assortment of hazel twigs, threw discredit on the mummery +and the mummers. Still the passion existed; and in no case was it +more observable than in that of the celebrated witch-finder. An +actual presence at the demoniacal rites of the broom-riding +sisterhood would have been attended with much danger and +considerable difficulty; indeed, it has been asserted that the +visitors, like those at Almack’s, were expected to be +balloted for, ticketed, and dressed in a manner suiting the +occasion. Any infringement of these rules must have been at the +proper peril of the contumacious infringer; and as it is more than +probable some of the brooms carried double, there was a very decent +chance of the intruder’s discovering himself across one of +the heavy-tailed and strong-backed breed, taking a trip to some +distant bourne, from whence that compulsory aerial traveller would +doubtless never have returned. Still witches were evils; and proof +of evil is what the law seeks to enable evil’s suppression. +Now and again one of these short-cut gentry, by some railroad +system of mental calculation, discovered certain external marks or +moles that at a glance betrayed “the secret, dark, and +midnight hags;” and the witch-finding process was +instantaneously established. The outward and visible sign of their +misdeeds authorised the further proceeding necessary for the clear +proof of their delinquencies: thus the pinchings, beatings, +starvings, trials, hangings, and burnings were made the goal of the +shortest of all imaginable short cuts; and old women who had +established pin manufactories in the stomachs of thousands, instead +of receiving patents for their inventions, divided the honour of +illuminating the land with the blazing tar-barrels provided for +their peculiar use and benefit. Whether it was that aerial gambols +on unsaddled and rough-backed broomsticks grew tiresome, or the +small profit attending the vocation became smaller, or that all the +elderly ladies with moles, and without anything else, were burnt +up, we can’t pretend to say; but certain it is, the art of +witchcraft fell into disrepute. Corking, minikin, and all +description of pins, were obliged to be made in the regular way; +and cows even departed this world without the honour of the human +immolations formerly considered the necessary sacrifice for the +loss of their inestimable lives. Since the abovetimes Animal +Magnetism and Mesmerism have followed in the wake of what has been; +and now, just as despair, already poised upon its outstretched +sable wings, was hovering for a brief moment previous to making its +final swoop upon the External Doctrine, Peter—our +Peter—Peter Laurie—the great, the glorious, the +aldermanic Laurie—makes despair, like the Indian Juggler who +swallowed himself, become the victim of its own insatiate maw.</p> +<p>Our quill trembles as we proceed; it is unequal to the task. Oh, +that we could write with the whole goose upon the wondrous merits +of the wondrous Peter!</p> +<p>We are better. That bumper has restored our nerve.</p> +<p>Reader, fancy the gifted Peter seated in the dull dignity of +civic magistracy: the court is thronged—a young delinquent +blinks like an owl in sunshine ’neath the mighty flashing of +his bench-lit eye. His crime, ay, what’s his crime? it +can’t be much—so pale, so thin, so woe-begone! look, +too, so tremulous of knee, and redolent of hair! what has he +done?</p> +<p>Here Roe interprets—“Please your worship, this young +man, or tailor, has been assaulting several females with a blue bag +and a pair of breeches.”</p> +<p><em>Sir Peter</em>.—“I don’t wonder at it; +that man would do anything, I see it in his face, or rather in the +back of his head, that’s where the expression lies—look +at his hair!”</p> +<p>The whole court becomes a Cyclops—it has but one eye, and +that is fixed upon the tailor’s locks.</p> +<p>“I say,” resumes our Peter, “a man with that +head of hair would do anything—pray, sir, do you wish to be +taken for a German sausage, or a German +student?—they’re all the same, sir—speak at +once.”</p> +<p>The faltering fraction denies the student, and repudiates the +sausage.</p> +<p><em>Sir Peter</em>, still looking at the hair, from which +external sign he evidently derived all his +information—“You were drunk, sir.”</p> +<p>“I was,” faltered the Samsonian schneider.</p> +<p>“I know it, sir—you are fined five shillings, +sir—but if you choose to submit to the deprivation of that +iniquitous hair, which has brought you here, and which, I repeat, +will make you do anything, I will remit the fine.”</p> +<p>A sigh, fine-drawn as the accidental rent in an unfinished +skirt, escaped the hirsute stitcher: a melancholy reflection upon +the infinite deal of nothing in his various pockets, and the slow +revolving of the Brixton wheel in stern perspective, wrung from the +quodded wretch a slow assent: Sir Peter sent a City officer with +his warrant to secure the nearest barber: a few sharp clickings of +the envious shears—and all was over! Crime fell from the +shoulders of the quondam culprit, and the tonsorial innocent stood +forth confessed!</p> +<p>Sir Peter was entranced. That was his doing! He gazed with pride +upon the new absolved from sin. He asked, “Are you not more +comfortable?”</p> +<p>All vice had gone, save one—the young man answered +“Yes,” and <em>lied</em>.</p> +<p>“Then, sir, go home.”</p> +<p>“The barber,” muttered “soft Roe” in as +soft a voice.</p> +<p>“What of him?”</p> +<p>“Wants a shillin’.”</p> +<p>“There it is,” exclaimed the Augustine Peter, +“there, from my own pocket, paid with pleasure to preserve +that youth from the evil influence of too much +hair—I’ll pay for all the City if they like—and +banished suicide, and I’ll pretty soon see if I can’t +settle all the City crops. Prisoner, you are discharged.”</p> +<p>The young man lost his hair, the Queen five shillings, and Sir +Peter one; but then he gained his end,—and docking must +henceforth be looked upon as the treadmill’s antidote, and +young man’s fines’ best friend. We therefore say, +should the iniquity of your long locks, gentle reader, take you to +the station (for, remember, Sir Peter says, <em>Long hair will do +anything</em>), if you can’t find bail, secure a barber, and +command your liberation. We have been speculating of these +externally-illustrated grades of crime; we think the following +nearly correct:—</p> +<p>The long and lank indicates larceny (petty and otherwise).</p> +<p>The bushy and bountiful—burglary.</p> +<p>The full and flowing—felony.</p> +<p>The magnificent and mysterious—murder.</p> +<p>And, for aught we know, pigtails—polygamy.</p> +<p>For the future, a thinking man’s motto will be, not to +mind “his own eye,” but everybody else’s +hair.</p> +<p>P.S. We have just received the following horrifying +communication which establishes Sir Peter’s opinion, +“that a man with such hair would do anything,” but +unfortunately disproves the remedy, as those atrocities have been +committed when he was without.</p> +<p>Indignant at the loss of his head’s glory, the evil-minded +tailor, immediately upon leaving the court, sent for +counsel’s opinion as to whether he couldn’t proceed +against Sir Peter, under the act for “cutting and maiming, +with intent to do him some grievous bodily harm.” This, it +appears he cannot do, inasmuch as these very learned gentlemen at +the bar have decided, “the head” from which the hair +was cut, and which, if any, is consequently the injured part, is +not included in the meaning of the word <em>bodily</em>, as &c. +&c. Foiled in this attempt, the monster, for the brutal +gratification of his burning revenge, hit upon a scheme the most +diabolical that human hair could conceive. He actually applied to +the Society for the Suppression of <em>Cruelty to Animals</em>; and +they, upon inspecting a portion of the dissevered locks, +immediately took up the case, and are about to indict Sir Peter, +Roe, and the barber, under one of the clauses of that tremendous +act. If they proceed for penalties in individual cases, they must +be immense, as the killed and wounded are beyond +calculation,—not to mention all that the process has left +homeless, foodless, and destitute.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>BARBER-OUS ANNOUNCEMENT.</h3> +<p>We beg to inform our readers that Mr. Tanner, of Temple-bar and +Shire-lane, whose salon extends from the city of London to the +liberties of Westminster, has this day been appointed Hair-cutter +Extraordinary to Sir Peter Laurie.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A NEW MILKY WAY.</h3> +<p>KIRCHOFF, a Prussian chemist, is reported to have discovered a +process by which milk may be preserved for an indefinite period. +Fresh milk is evaporated by a very gentle heat till it is reduced +to a dry powder, which is to be kept perfectly dry in a bottle. +When required for use it need only be diluted with a sufficient +quantity of water. Mr. James Jones, who keeps a red cow—over +his door—claims the original idea of making milk from a white +powder, which, he states, may be done without the tedious process +of evaporation, by using an article entirely known to London +milk-vendors—namely <em>chalk</em>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>OH GEMINI!</h3> +<p>At the close of the Civic Festival last week, Sir William +Follett inquired of the Recorder if he had seen his +<em>Castor</em>. “No,” replied Law (holding up the +Attorney-General’s fifty-seven penn’orth), “but +here is your brother Pollock’s” (<em>Pollux</em>.)</p> +<hr /> +<p>“Well,” said Sir Peter Hobler the other morning, +“I should think you will be denied the <em>entrée</em> +to the Palace after your decision of Saturday.” “Why +so?” inquired the knight of leather. “For fear you +should cut off the heir to the Throne!” screamed Hobler, and +vanished.</p> +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +1, November 20, 1841, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 14937-h.htm or 14937-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/9/3/14937/ + +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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