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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:45:41 -0700 |
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diff --git a/14939-h/14939-h.htm b/14939-h/14939-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4a033b8 --- /dev/null +++ b/14939-h/14939-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2275 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Mac OS X (vers 1st August 2004), see www.w3.org" /> +<meta http-equiv="content-type" content= +"text/html; charset=us-ascii" /> +<title>Punch, or the London Charivari. December 4, 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, +December 4, 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, December 4, 1841 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 7, 2005 [EBook #14939] + +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>DECEMBER 4, 1841.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page241" name="page241"></a>[pg +241]</span> +<h2>OFFICIAL REPORT OF THE FIRE AT THE TOWER.</h2> +<p>The document with this title, that has got into the newspapers, +has been dressed up for the public eye. We have obtained the +original <em>draft</em>, and beg to administer it to our readers +<em>neat</em>, in the precise language it was written in.</p> +<h4>THE OFFICIAL REPORT.</h4> +<p>MR. SNOOKS says, that it being his turn to be on watch on the +night of Saturday, October 30th, he went to his duty as usual, and +having turned into his box, slept until he was amazed by shouts and +the rolling of wheels in all directions. The upper door of his box +being open, he looked out of it, and his head struck violently +against something hard, upon which he attempted to open the lower +door of his box, when he found he could not. Thinking there was +something wrong, he became very active in raising an alarm, but +could obtain no attention; and he has since found that in the hurry +of moving property from different parts of the building, his box +had been closely barricaded; and he, consequently, was compelled to +remain in it until the following morning. He says, however, that +everything was quite safe in the middle of the day when he took his +great-coat to his box, and trimmed his lantern ready for the +evening.</p> +<p>MRS. SNOOKS, wife of the above witness, corroborates the account +of her husband, so far as trimming the lanthern in the daytime is +concerned, and also as to his being encased in his box until the +morning. She had no anxiety about him, because she had been +distinctly told that the fire did not break out until past ten, and +her husband she knew was sure to be snug in his box by that +time.</p> +<p>JOHN JONES, a publican, says, at about nine o’clock on +Saturday, the 30th of October, he saw a light in the Tower, which +flickered very much like a candle, as if somebody was continually +blowing one out and blowing it in again. He observed this for about +half an hour, when it began to look as if several gas-lights were +in the room and some one was turning the gas on and off very +rapidly. After this he went to bed, and was disturbed shortly +before midnight by hearing that the Tower was in flames.</p> +<p>SERGEANT FIPS, of the Scotch Fusileer (Qy. <em>Few sillier</em>) +Guards, was at a public-house on Tower-hill, when, happening to go +to the door, he observed a large quantity of thick smoke issuing +from one of the windows of the Tower. Knowing that Major Elrington, +the deputy governor, was fond of a cigar, he thought nothing of the +circumstance of the smoke, and was surprised in about half an hour +to see flames issuing from the building.</p> +<p>GEORGE SNIVEL saw the fire bursting from the Tower on Saturday +night, and being greatly frightened he ran home to his mother as +soon as possible. His mother called him a fool, and said it was the +gas-works.</p> +<p>THOMAS POPKINS rents a back attic at Rotherhithe; he had been +peeling an onion on the 30th of October, and went to the window for +the purpose of throwing out the external coat of the vegetable +mentioned in the beginning of his testimony, when he saw a large +fire burning somewhere, with some violence. Not thinking it could +be the Tower, he went to bed after eating the onion—which has +been already twice alluded to in the course of his evidence.</p> +<p>MR. SWIFT, of the Jewel-office, says, that he saw the Tower +burning at the distance of about three acres from where the jewels +are kept, when his first thought was to save the regalia. For this +purpose he rushed to the scene of the conflagration and desired +everybody who would obey him, to leave what they were about and +follow him to that part of the Tower set apart for the jewels. +Several firemen were induced to quit the pumps, and having +prevailed on a large body of soldiers, he led them and a vast +miscellaneous mob to the apartments where the crown, &c., were +deposited. After a considerable quantity of squeezing, screaming, +cursing, and swearing, it was discovered that the key was missing, +when the jewel-room was carried by storm, and the jewels safely +lodged in some other part of the building. When witness returned to +the fire, it was quite out, and the armoury totally demolished.</p> +<p>The whole of the official report is in the same satisfactory +strain, but we do not feel ourselves justified in printing any more +of it.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A CON-CERTED CON.</h3> +<p>“When is the helm of a ship like a certain English +composer?”—said the double bass to the trombone in the +orchestra of Covent Garden Theatre, while resting themselves the +other evening between the acts of Norma.—The trombone wished +he might be <em>blowed</em> if he could tell.—“When it +is <em>A-lee</em>” quoth the bass—rosining his bow with +extraordinary delight at his own conceit.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>RECONCILING A DIFFERENCE.</h3> +<p>Two literary partisans were lately contending with considerable +warmth, for the superiority of Tait’s or Blackwood’s +Magazine—till from words they fell to blows, and decided the +dispute by the <em>argumentum ad hominem</em>.—Doctor Maginn, +hearing of the circumstance, observed to a friend, that however the +pugnacious gentleman’s opinions might differ with respect to +<em>Tait</em> and <em>Blackwood</em>, it was evident they were +content to decide them by a <em>Frazer</em> (<em>fray +sir</em>).</p> +<hr /> +<h3>OUR WEATHERCOCK.</h3> +<p>The state of the weather, at all times an object of intense +interest and general conversation amongst Englishmen, has latterly +engaged much of our attention; and the observations which we have +made on the extraordinary changes which have taken place in the +weathercock during the last week warrant us in saying “there +must be something in the wind.” It has been remarked that Mr. +Macready’s <em>Hamlet</em> and Mr. Dubourg’s chimneys +have not <em>drawn</em> well of late. A smart breeze sprung up +between Mr. and Mrs. Smith, of Brixton, on last Monday afternoon, +which increased during the night, and ended in a perfect storm. Sir +Peter Laurie on the same evening retired to bed rather misty, and +was exceedingly foggy all the following morning. At the Lord +Mayor’s dinner the <em>glass</em> was observed to rise and +fall several times in a most remarkable manner, and at last settled +at “heavy wet.” A flock of gulls were seen hovering +near Crockford’s on Tuesday, and on that morning the milkman +who goes the Russell-square walk was observed to blow the tips of +his fingers at the areas of numerous houses. Applications for food +were made by some starving paupers to the Relieving Officers of +different workhouses, but the hearts of those worthy individuals +were found to be completely frozen. Notwithstanding the severity of +the weather, the nose of the beadle of St. Clement Danes has been +seen for nearly the last fortnight in full blossom. A heavy fall of +blankets took place on Wednesday, and the fleecy covering still +lies on several beds in and near the metropolis. Expecting frost to +set in, Sir Robert Peel has been busily employed on his <em>sliding +scale</em>; in fact, affairs are becoming very slippery in the +Cabinet, and Sir James Graham is already preparing to trim his sail +to the next change of wind. Watercresses, we understand, are likely +to be scarce; there is a brisk demand for “bosom +friends” amongst unmarried ladies; and it is feared that the +intense cold which prevails at nights will drive some unprovided +young men into the <em>union</em>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE BANE AND ANTIDOTE.</h3> +<p>We are requested to state that the insane person who lately +attempted to obtain an entrance into Buckingham Palace was not the +Finsbury renegade, Mr. Wakley. We are somewhat surprised that the +rumour should have obtained circulation, as the unfortunate man is +described as being of respectable appearance.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE CORSAIR.</h3> +<h4>A POEM TO BE READ ON RAILROADS.</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The sky was dark—the sea was rough;</p> +<p>The Corsair’s heart was brave and tough;</p> +<p>The wind was high—the waves were steep;</p> +<p>The moon was veil’d—the ocean deep;</p> +<p>The foam against the vessel dash’d:</p> +<p>The Corsair overboard was wash’d.</p> +<p>A rope in vain was thrown to save—</p> +<p>The brine is now the Corsair’s grave!</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>As it is expected that the jogging and jerking, or the sudden +passing through tunnels, may in some degree interfere with the +perusal of this poem, we give it with the abbreviations, as it is +likely to be read with the drawbacks alluded to.</p> +<p>Wherever there is a dash—it is supposed there will be a +jolt of the vehicle.</p> +<h4>CORSAIR-POEM.</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>—sky—dark—sea—rough;</p> +<p>—Corsair—brave—tough;</p> +<p>—wind—high—waves steep;</p> +<p>—moon—veil’d—oce—deep;</p> +<p>—foam—gainst—vess—dash’d;</p> +<p>—Corsair—board—wash’d.</p> +<p>—rope—vain—to save,</p> +<p>—brine—Cors—grave.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>“STUPID AS A ‘POST.’”</h3> +<p>The <em>Morning Post</em> has made another blunder. Lord +Abinger, it seems, is too Conservative to resign. After all the +editorial boasting about “exclusive information,” +“official intelligence,” &c. it is very evident +that the “<em>Morning Twaddler</em>” must not be looked +upon as a direction <em>post</em>.</p> +<hr /> +<p>We learn that a drama of startling interest, founded upon a +recent event of singular horror, is in active preparation at the +Victoria Theatre. It is to be entitled “<em>Cavanagh the +Culprit; or, the Irish Saveloyard</em>.” The interest of the +drama will be immensely strengthened by the introduction of the +genuine knife with which the fatal ham was cut. Real saveloys will +also be eaten by the Fasting Phenomenon before the audience.</p> +<hr /> +<p>“Never saw such <em>stirring</em> times,” as the +spoon said to the saucepan.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page242" name="page242"></a>[pg +242]</span> +<h2>THE “PUFF PAPERS.”</h2> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/021-01.png"><img src= +"images/021-01.png" alt= +"A very large man is surprised by a very small man in a box." id= +"img021-01" name="img021-01" width="90%" /></a></div> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> +<p>Having expressed the great gratification I should enjoy at being +permitted to become a member of so agreeable a society, I was +formally presented by the chairman with a capacious meerschaum, +richly mounted in silver, and dark with honoured age, filled with +choice tobacco, which he informed me was the initiatory pipe to be +smoked by every neophyte on his admission amongst the +“Puffs.” I shall not attempt to describe with what +profound respect I received that venerable tube into my +hands—how gently I applied the blazing match to its fragrant +contents—how affectionately I placed the amber mouth-piece +between my lips, and propelled the thick wreaths of smoke in +circling eddies to the ceiling:—to dilate upon all this might +savour of an egotistical desire to exalt my own merits—a +species of <em>puffing</em> I mortally abhor. Suffice it to say, +that when I had smoked the pipe of peace, I was heartily +congratulated by the chairman and the company generally upon the +manner in which I had acquitted myself, and I was declared without +a dissentient voice a duly-elected member of the +“Puffs.”</p> +<p>The business of the night, which my entrance had interrupted, +was now resumed; and the chairman, whom I shall call Arden, +striking his hammer upon a small mahogany box which was placed +before him on the table, requested silence. Before I permit him to +speak, I must give my readers a pen-and-ink sketch of his person. +He was rather tall and erect in his person—his head was +finely formed—and he had a quick grey eye, which would have +given an unpleasant sharpness to his features, had it not been +softened by the benevolent smile which played around his mouth. In +his attire he was somewhat formal, and he affected an antiquated +style in the fashion of his dress. When he spoke, his words fell +with measured precision from his lips; but the mellow tone of his +voice, and a certain courteous <em>empressement</em> in his manner, +at once interested me in his favour; and I set him down in my mind +as a gentleman of the old English school. How far I was right in my +conjecture my readers will hereafter have an opportunity of +determining.</p> +<p>“Our new member,” said the chairman, turning towards +me, “should now be informed that we have amongst us some +individuals who possess a taste for literary pursuits.”</p> +<p>“A very small taste,” whispered a droll-looking +‘Puff,’ with a particularly florid nose, who was +sitting on my right hand, and who appeared to be watching all the +evening for opportunities of letting off his jokes, which were +always applauded longest and loudest by himself. My comical +neighbour’s name, I afterwards learned, was Bayles; he was +the licensed jester of the club; he had been a punster from his +youth; and it was his chief boast that he had joked himself into +the best society and out of the largest fortune of any individual +in the three kingdoms.</p> +<p>This incorrigible wag having broken the thread of the +chairman’s speech, I shall only add the substance of it. It +was, that the literary members of the “Puffs” had +agreed to contribute from time to time articles in prose and verse; +tales, legends, and sketches of life and manners—all which +contributions were deposited in the mahogany box on the table; and +from this literary fund a paper was extracted by the chairman on +one of the nights of meeting in each week, and read by him aloud to +the club.</p> +<p>These manuscripts, I need scarcely say, will form the series of +THE PUFF PAPERS, which, for the special information of the +thousands of the fair sex who will peruse them, are like the best +black teas, strongly recommended for their fine <em>curling +leaf</em>.</p> +<p>The first paper drawn by the chairman was an Irish Tale; which, +after a humorous protest by Mr. Bayles against the introduction of +foreign extremities, was ordered to be read.</p> +<p>The candles being snuffed, and the chairman’s spectacles +adjusted to the proper focus, he commenced as follows:—</p> +<h3>THE GIANT’S STAIRS.</h3> +<h4>A LEGEND OF THE SOUTH OF IRELAND.</h4> +<p>“Don’t be for quitting us so airly, Felix, <em>ma +bouchal</em>, it’s a taring night without, and you’re +better sitting there opposite that fire than facing this unmarciful +storm,” said Tim Carthy, drawing his stool closer to the +turf-piled hearth, and addressing himself to a young man who +occupied a seat in the chimney nook, whose quick bright eye and +somewhat humorous curl of the corner of the mouth indicated his +character pretty accurately, and left no doubt that he was one of +those who would laugh their laugh out, if the <em>ould boy</em> +stood at the door. The reply to Tim’s proposal was a jerk of +Felix’s great-coat on his left shoulder, and a sly glance at +the earthen mug which he held, as he gradually bent it from its +upright position, until it was evident that the process of +absorption had been rapidly acting on its contents. Tim, who +understood the freemasonry of the manoeuvre, removed all the latent +scruples of Felix by adding—“There’s more of that +stuff—where you know; and by the crook of St. Patrick +we’ll have another drop of it to comfort us this blessed +night. Whisht! do you hear how the wind comes sweeping over the +hills? God help the poor souls at say!”</p> +<p>“Wissha amen!” replied Tim’s wife, dropping +her knitting, and devoutly making the sign of the cross upon her +forehead.</p> +<p>A silence of a few moments ensued; during which, each person +present offered up a secret prayer for the safety of those who +might at that moment be exposed to the fury of the warring +elements.</p> +<p>I should here inform my readers that the cottage of Tim Carthy +was situated in the deep valley which runs inland from the strand +at Monkstown, a pretty little bathing village, that forms an +interesting object on the banks of the romantic Lee, near the +“beautiful city” of Cork.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page243" name="page243"></a>[pg +243]</span></p> +<p>“I never heard such a jearful storm since the night +Mahoon, the ould giant, who lives in the cave under the <em>Giants +Stairs</em>, sunk the three West Ingee-men that lay at anchor near +the rocks,” observed Mrs. Carthy.</p> +<p>“It’s Felix can tell us, if he plazes, a quare story +about that same Mahoon,” added Tim, addressing himself to the +young man.</p> +<p>“You’re right there, anyhow, Tim,” replied +Felix; “and as my pipe is just out, I’ll give you the +whole truth of the story as if I was after kissing the book upon +it.</p> +<p>“You must know, then, it was one fine morning near +Midsummer, about five years ago, that I got up very airly to go +down to the beach and launch my boat, for I meant to try my luck at +fishing for conger eels under the Giant’s Stairs. I +wasn’t long pulling to the spot, and I soon had my lines +baited and thrown out; but not so much as a bite did I get to keep +up my spirits all that blessed morning, till I was fairly kilt with +fatigue and disappointment. Well, I was thinking of returning home +again, when all at once I felt something mortial heavy upon one of +my lines. At first I thought it was a big conger, but then I knew +that no fish would hang so dead upon my hand, so I hauled in with +fear and thrembling, for I was afeard every minnit my line or my +hook would break, and at last I got my prize to the top of the +water, and then safe upon the gunnel of the boat;—and what do +you think it was?”</p> +<p>“In troth, Felix, sorra one of us knows.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, it was nothing else but a little dirty black +oak box, hooped round with iron, and covered with say-weed and +barnacles, as if it had lain a long time in the water. ‘Oh, +ho!’ says myself, ‘it’s in rale good luck I am +this beautiful morning. Phew! as sure as turf, ’tis full of +goold, or silver, or dollars, the box is.’ For, by dad, it +was so heavy intirely I could scarcely move it, and it sunk my +little boat a’most to the water’s edge; so I pulled +back for bare life to the shore, and ran the boat into a lonesome +little creek in the rocks. There I managed somehow to heave out the +little box upon dry land, and, finding a handy lump of a stone, I +wasn’t long smashing the iron fastenings, and lifting up the +lid. I looked in, and saw a weeshy ould weasened fellow sitting in +it, with his legs gothered up under him like a tailor. He was +dressed in a green coat, all covered with goold lace, a red scarlet +waistcoat down to his hips, and a little three-cornered cocked hat +upon the top of his head, with a cock’s feather sticking out +of it as smart as you plase.</p> +<p>“‘Good morrow to you, Felix Donovan,’ says the +small chap, taking off his hat to me, as polite as a +dancing-masther.</p> +<p>“‘Musha! then the tip top of the morning to +you,’ says I, ‘it’s ashamed of yourself you ought +to be, for putting me to such a dale of throuble.’</p> +<p>“‘Don’t mention it, Felix,’ says he, +‘I’ll be proud to do as much for you another time. But +why don’t you open the box, and let me out? ’tis many a +long day I have been shut up here in this could dark place.’ +All the time I was only holding the lid partly open.</p> +<p>“‘Thank you kindly, my tight fellow,’ says +myself, quite ’cute; ‘maybe you think I don’t +know you, but plase God you’ll not stir a peg out of where +you are until you pay me for my throuble.’</p> +<p>“‘Millia murdher!’ says the little chap. +‘What could a poor crather like me have in the world? +Haven’t I been shut up here without bite or sup?’ and +then he began howling and bating his head agin the side of the box, +and making most pitiful moans. But I wasn’t to be deceived by +his thricks, so I put down the lid of the box and began to hammer +away at it, when he roared out,—</p> +<p>“‘Tare an’ agers! Felix Donovan, sure you +won’t be so cruel as to shut me up again? Open the box, man, +till I spake to you.’</p> +<p>“‘Well, what do you want now’!’ savs I, +lifting up the lid the laste taste in life.</p> +<p>“‘I’ll tell you what, Felix, I’ll give +you twenty goolden guineas if you’ll let me out.’</p> +<p>“‘Soft was your horn, my little fellow; your offer +don’t shoot.’</p> +<p>“‘I’ll give you fifty.</p> +<p>“‘No.’</p> +<p>“‘A hundred.’</p> +<p>“’T won’t do. If you were to offer me all the +money in the Cork bank I wouldn’t take it.’</p> +<p>“‘What the diaoul will you take then?’ says +the little ould chap, reddening like a turkey-cock in the gills +with anger.</p> +<p>“‘I’ll tell you,’ says I, making answer; +‘I’ll take the three best gifts that you can +bestow.’”</p> +<p class="cen">(<em>To be continued.</em>)</p> +<hr /> +<p>Why is a butcher like a language master?—Because he is a +<em>retailer of tongues</em>.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE KNATCHBULL TESTIMONIAL.</h2> +<p>A meeting, unequalled in numbers and respectability, was held +during the past week at the sign of “<em>The Conservative +Cauliflower</em>,” Duck-lane, Westminster, for the purpose of +presenting an address, and anything else, that the meeting might +decide upon, to Sir Edward Knatchbull, for his patriotic opposition +to ’pikes.</p> +<p>Mr. ADAM BELL, the well-known literary dustman, was unanimously +called to the Chair. The learned gentleman immediately responded to +the call, and having gracefully removed his fan tail with one hand +and his pipe with the other, bowed to the assembled multitude, and +deposited himself in the seat of honour. As there was no hammer in +the room, the inventive genius of the learned chairman, suggested +the substitution of his bell, and having agitated its clapper three +times, and shouted “<em>Orger</em>” with stentorian +emphasis, he proceeded to address the meeting:—</p> +<p>“Wedgetable wendors and purweyors of promiscus poulte-ry, +it isn’t often that a cheer is taken in this room for no +other than harmonic meetings or club-nights, and it is, therefore, +with oncommon pride that I feels myself in my present proud +persition. (<em>Werry good! and Hear, hear!</em>) You are all +pretty well aware of my familiar acquaintance with the nobs of this +here great nation. (<em>We is! and cheers.</em>) For some years +I’ve had the honour to collect for Mr. Dark, night and day, I +may say; and in my mind the werry best standard of a real gentleman +is his dust-hole. (<em>Hear, hear! and He’s vide avake!</em>) +You’re hailed,” continued the eloquent Adam, +“you’re hailed by a sarvant in a dimity jacket; you +pulls up alongside of the curb; you collars your basket, and with +your shovel in your mawley, makes a cast into the hairy; one glance +at the dust conwinces you vether you’re to have sixpence or a +swig of lamen-table beer. (<em>It does! and cheers.</em>) A man as +sifteses his dust is a disgrace to humanity! (<em>Immense cheering, +which was rendered more exhilarating by the introduction of +Dirk’s dangle-dangles, otherwise bells.</em>) But +you’ll say, Vot is this here to do with Sir Eddard? +I’ll tell you. It has been my werry great happiness to clear +out Sir Eddard, and werry well I was paid for doing it. The Tories +knows what <em>jobs</em> is, and pays according-<em>ly</em>. +(<em>Here the Meeting gave the Conservative Costermonger +fire.</em>) The ’pinion I then formed of Sir Eddard has jist +been werrified, for hasn’t he comed forrard to oppose them +rascally taxes on commercial industry and Fairlop-fair—on +enterprising higgling and ‘twelve in a tax-cart?’ need +I say I alludes to them blessed ‘pikes? (<em>Long and +continued cheers.</em>) Sir Eddard is fully aware that the +‘pike-men didn’t make the dirt that makes the road, and +werry justly refuses to fork out tuppence-ha’penny! +It’s werry true Sir Eddard says that the t’other taxes +must be paid, as what’s to pay the ministers? But it’s +highly unreasonable that ’pike-men is to be put alongside of +Prime Ministers, wedgetable wendors, and purveyors of promiscus +polte-ry! Had that great man succeeded in bilking the toll, what a +thing it would ha’ been for us! Gatter is but 3d. a pot, and +that’s the price of a reasonable ‘pike-ticket. That +wenerable and wenerated liquor as bears the cognominum of +‘Old Tom’ is come-atable for the walley of them werry +browns. But Sir Eddard has failed in his bould endeavour—the +’pikes has it! (<em>Shame!</em>) It’s for us to reward +him. I therefore proposes that a collection of turnpike tickets is +made, and then elegantly mounted, framed and glaziered, and +presented to the Right Honourable Barrownight.” (<em>Immense +applause.</em>)</p> +<p>Mr. ALEC BILL JONES, the celebrated early-tater and spring-ingen +dealer, seconded the proposition, at the same time suggesting that +“Old ’pike-tickets would do as well as new ’uns; +and everybody know’d that second-hand tumpike-tickets +warn’t werry waluable, so the thing could be done handsome +and reasonable.”</p> +<p>A collection was immediately commenced in the room, and in a few +minutes the subscription included the whole of the Metropolitan +trusts, together with three Waterloo-bridge tickets, which the +donor stated “could ony be ’ad for axing +for.”</p> +<p>A deputation was then formed for the purpose of presenting this +unique testimonial when completed to Sir Edward Knatchbull.</p> +<p>It is rumoured that the lessees of the gates in the +neighbourhood of the Metropolis are trying to get up a counter +meeting. We have written to Mr. Levy on the subject.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>MUSICAL NEWS (NOOSE).</h3> +<p>We perceive from a foreign paper that a criminal who has been +imprisoned for a considerable period at Presburg has acquired a +complete mastery over the violin. It has been announced that he +will shortly make an appearance in public. Doubtless, his +performance will be <em>a solo on one string</em>.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page244" name="page244"></a>[pg +244]</span> +<h2>THE PHYSIOLOGY OF THE LONDON MEDICAL STUDENT.</h2> +<h3>10.—THE TERMINATION OF THE HALL EXAMINATION.</h3> +<div class="dropcap"><a href="images/021-02.png"><img src= +"images/021-02.png" alt= +"A person stands with arms outstretched holding a knife in each hand to form a letter T" +id="img021-02" name="img021-02" width="100%" /></a></div> +<p><span class="hide">T</span>he morning after the carousal +reported in our last chapter, the parties thereat assisting are +dispersed in various parts of London. Did a modern Asmodeus take a +spectator to any elevated point from which he could overlook the +Great Metropolis of Mr. Grant and England just at this period, when +Aurora has not long called the sun, who rises as surlily as if he +had got out of bed the wrong way, he would see Mr. Rapp ruminating +upon things in general whilst seated on some cabbages in Covent +Garden Market; Mr. Jones taking refreshment with a lamplighter and +two cabmen at a promenade coffee-stand near Charing Cross, to whom +he is giving a lecture upon the action of veratria in paralysis, +jumbled somehow or other with frequent asseverations that he shall +at all times be happy to see the aforesaid lamplighter and two +cabmen at the hospital or his own lodgings; Mr. Manhug, with a +pocket-handkerchief tied round his head, not clearly understanding +what has become of his latch-key, but rather imagining that he +threw it into a lamp instead of the short pipe which still remains +in the pocket of his pea-jacket, and, moreover, finding himself +close to London Bridge, is taking a gratuitous doze in the cabin of +the Boulogne steam-boat, which he ascertains does not start until +eight o’clock; whilst Mr. Simpson, the new man, with the +usual destiny of such green productions—thirsty, nauseated, +and “coming round”—is safely taken care of in one +of the small private unfurnished apartments which are let by the +night on exceedingly moderate terms (an introduction by a policeman +of known respectability being all the reference that is required) +in the immediate neighbourhood of the Bow-street Police-office. +Where Mr. Muff is—it is impossible to form the least idea; he +may probably speak for himself.</p> +<p>The reader will now please to shift the time and place to two +o’clock P.M. in the dissecting-room, which is full of +students, comprising three we have just spoken of, except Mr. +Simpson. A message has been received that the anatomical teacher is +unavoidably detained at an important case in private practice, and +cannot meet his class to day. Hereupon there is much rejoicing +amongst the pupils, who gather in a large semicircle round the +fireplace, and devise various amusing methods of passing the time. +Some are for subscribing to buy a set of four-corners, to be played +in the museum when the teachers are not there, and kept out of +sight in an old coffin when they are not wanted. Others vote for +getting up sixpenny sweepstakes, and raffling for them with +dice—the winner of each to stand a pot out of his gains, and +add to the goodly array of empty pewters which already grace the +mantelpiece in bright order, with the exception of two irregulars, +one of which Mr. Rapp has squeezed flat to show the power of his +hand; and in the bottom of the other Mr. Manhug has bored a foramen +with a red-hot poker in a laudable attempt to warm the heavy that +it contained. Two or three think they had better adjourn to the +nearest slate table and play a grand pool; and some more vote for +tapping the preparations in the museum, and making the porter of +the dissecting-room intoxicated with the grog manufactured from the +proof spirit. The various arguments are, however, cut short by the +entrance of Mr. Muff, who rushes into the room, followed by Mr. +Simpson, and throwing off his macintosh cape, pitches a large +fluttering mass of feathers into the middle of the circle.</p> +<p>“Halloo, Muff! how are you, my bean—what’s +up?” is the general exclamation.</p> +<p>“Oh, here’s a lark!” is all Mr. Muff’s +reply.</p> +<p>“Lark!” cries Mr. Rapp; “you’re drunk, +Muff—you don’t mean to call that a lark!”</p> +<p>“It’s a beautiful patriarchal old hen,” +returns Mr. Muff, “that I bottled as she was meandering down +the mews; and now I vote we have her for lunch. Who’s game to +kill her?”</p> +<p>Various plans are immediately suggested, including cutting her +head off, poisoning her with morphia, or shooting her with a little +cannon Mr Rapp has got in his locker; but at last the majority +decide upon hanging her. A gibbet is speedily prepared, simply +consisting of a thigh-bone laid across two high stools; a piece of +whip cord is then noosed round the victim’s neck; and she is +launched into eternity, as the newspapers say—Mr. Manhug +attending to pull her legs.</p> +<p>“Depend upon it that’s a humane death,” +remarks Mr. Jones. “I never tried to strangle a fowl but +once, and then I twisted its neck bang off. I know a capital plan +to finish cats though.”</p> +<p>“Throw it off—put it up—let’s have +it,” exclaim the circle.</p> +<p>“Well, then; you must get their necks in a slip knot and +pull them up to a key-hole. They can’t hurt you, you know, +because you are the other side the door.</p> +<p>“Oh, capital—quite a wrinkle,” observes Mr. +Muff. “But how do you catch them first?”</p> +<p>“Put a hamper outside the leads with some valerian in it, +and a bit of cord tied to the lid. If you keep watch, you may bag +half-a-dozen in no time; and strange cats are fair game for +everybody,—only some of them are rum ’uns to +bite.”</p> +<p>At this moment, a new Scotch pupil, who is lulling himself into +the belief that he is studying anatomy from some sheep’s eyes +by himself in the Museum, enters the dissecting-room, and mildly +asks the porter “what a heart is worth?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know, sir,” shouts Mr. Rapp; +“it depends entirely upon what’s trumps;” +whereupon the new Scotch pupil retires to his study as if he was +shot, followed by several pieces of cinders and tobacco-pipe,</p> +<p>During the preceding conversation, Mr. Muff cuts down the victim +with a scalpel; and, finding that life has departed, commences to +pluck it, and perform the usual post-mortem abdominal examinations +attendant upon such occasions. Mr. Rapp undertakes to manufacture +an extempore spit, from the rather dilapidated umbrella of the new +Scotch pupil, which he has heedlessly left in the dissecting-room. +This being completed, with the assistance of some wire from the +ribs of an old skeleton that had hung in a corner of the room ever +since it was built, the hen is put down to roast, presenting the +most extraordinary specimen of trussing upon record. Mr. Jones +undertakes to buy some butter at a shop behind the hospital; and +Mr. Manhug, not being able to procure any flour, gets some starch +from the cabinet of the lecturer on Materia Medica, and powders it +in a mortar which he borrows from the laboratory.</p> +<p>“To revert to cats,” observes Mr. Manhug, as he sets +himself before the fire to superintend the cooking; “it +strikes me we could contrive no end to fun if we each agreed to +bring some here one day in carpet-bags. We could drive in plenty of +dogs, and cocks, and hens, out of the back streets, and then let +them all loose together in the dissecting-room.”</p> +<p>“With a sprinkling of rats and ferrets,” adds Mr. +Rapp. “I know a man who can let us have as many as we want. +The skrimmage would be immense, only I shouldn’t much care to +stay and see it.”</p> +<p>“Oh that’s nothing,” replies Mr. Muff. +“Of course, we must get on the roof and look at it through +the skylights. You may depend upon it, it would be the finest card +we ever played.”</p> +<p>How gratifying to every philanthropist must be these proofs of +the elasticity of mind peculiar to a Medical Student! Surrounded by +scenes of the most impressive and deplorable nature—in +constant association with death and contact with disease—his +noble spirit, in the ardour of his search after professional +information, still retains its buoyancy and freshness; and he +wreaths with roses the hours which he passes in the +dissecting-room, although the world in general looks upon it as a +rather unlikely locality for those flowers to shed their perfume +over!</p> +<p>“By the way, Muff, where did you get to last night after +we all cut?” inquires Mr. Rapp.</p> +<p>“Why, that’s what I am rather anxious to find out +myself,” replies Mr. Muff; “but I think I can collect +tolerably good reminiscences of my travels.”</p> +<p>“Tell us all about it then,” cry three or four.</p> +<p>“With pleasure—only let’s have in a little +more beer; for the heat of the fire in cooking produces rather too +rapid an evaporation of fluids from the surface of the +body.”</p> +<p>“Oh, blow your physiology!” says Rapp. “You +mean to say you’ve got a hot copper—so have I. Send for +the precious balm, and then fire away.”</p> +<p>And accordingly, when the beer arrives, Mr. Muff proceeds with +the recital of his wanderings.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>LOVE AND HYMEN.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Cupid (that charming little <em>garcon</em>),</p> +<p class="i2">When free, is am’rous, brisk, and gay;</p> +<p>But when he’s noos’d by Hymen’s parson,</p> +<p class="i2">Snores like <em>Glenelg</em>, or flies away.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page245" name="page245"></a>[pg +245]</span> +<h3>OUR CITY ARTICLE.</h3> +<p>An alarming forgery of Mendicity Society’s tickets has +been discovered in Red Lion Square, and has caused much +conversation at the doors of most of the gin palaces. Our readers +are probably aware what these tickets are, though, being a +particular class of security, there is not a great deal publicly +done in them. They are issued to certain subscribers, who pay a +guinea per year towards housing a Secretary and some other officers +in a moderate-sized house, in the kitchen of which certain soup is +prepared, which is partaken of by a number of persons called the +Board, who are said to taste it and see that it is good; and if +there is any left, which may occasionally happen, the poor are +allowed to finish it. This valuable privilege is secured by +tickets; and these tickets are found to be forged to a very large +amount—some say indeed to the amount of 14,000 basins. It is +not usual to pay off these soup tickets, but a sort of interest can +be had upon them by standing just over the railings of the house in +Red Lion Square, when the Secretary’s dinner is being cooked +or served up, and a certain amount of savoury steam is then put +into circulation. The house has been besieged all day with +“innocent holders,” who, on giving their tickets in, +cannot get them back again. The genuine tickets are known by the +stamp, which is a soup plate <em>rampant</em>, and a spoon +<em>argent</em>,—the latter being the emblem of the +subscribers.</p> +<p>A great deal is said of a new company, whose object is to take +advantage of a well-known fact in chemistry. It is known that +diamonds can be resolved into charcoal, as well as that charcoal +can be ultimately reduced to air; and a company is to be founded +with the view of simply <em>reversing the process</em>. Instead of +getting air from diamonds, their object will be to get diamonds +from air; and in fact the chief promoters of it have generally +drawn from that source the greater part of their capital. The whole +sum for shares need not be paid up at once; but the Directors will +be satisfied in the first instance with 10 per cent. on the whole +sum to be raised from the adventurers. It is intended to declare a +dividend at the earliest possible period, which will be directly +the first diamond has been made by the new process.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>CON. BY SIBTHORP AND STULTZ.</h3> +<p>Why are batteries and soldiers like the hands and feet of +tailors?—Because the former make breaches +(<em>breeches</em>), and the latter pass through them.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE ROMANCE OF A TEACUP.</h2> +<h3>SIP THE THIRD. GOS-SIP.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>That hour devoted to thy vesper “service”—</p> +<p class="i2">Dulcet exhilaration! glorious tea!—</p> +<p>I deem my happiest. Howsoe’er I swerve, as</p> +<p class="i2">To mind or morals, elsewhere, over thee</p> +<p>I am a perfect creature, quite impervious</p> +<p class="i2">To care, or tribulation, or <em>ennui</em>—</p> +<p>In fact, I do agnize to thee an utter</p> +<p>Devotion even to the bread and butter.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The homely kettle hissing on the bar—</p> +<p class="i2">(Urns I detest, irrelevant pomposities)—</p> +<p>The world beyond the window-blinds, as far</p> +<p class="i2">As I can thrust it—this defines what +“cosset” is—</p> +<p>What woe that rhyme such scene of bliss must mar!</p> +<p class="i2">But rhyme, alas! is one of my atrocities;</p> +<p>In common with those bards who have the scratch</p> +<p>Of writing, and are all right with Catnach.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“How Nancy Sniggles was the village pride,—</p> +<p class="i2">How Will, her sweetheart, went to be a sailor;</p> +<p>How much at parting Nancy Sniggles cried,—</p> +<p class="i2">And how she snubb’d her funny friend the +tailor;</p> +<p>How William boldly fought and bravely died;</p> +<p class="i2">How Nancy Sniggles felt her senses fail +her—”</p> +<p>Then comes a sad <em>dénouement</em>—now-a-days</p> +<p>It is not virtue dominant that pays.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Such tales, in this, the post-octavo age,</p> +<p class="i2">Our novelists incontinently tells us—</p> +<p>Tales, wherein lovely heroines engage</p> +<p class="i2">With highwaymen, good-looking rogues but callous,</p> +<p>Who go on swimmingly till the last page,</p> +<p class="i2">And then take poison to escape the gallows—</p> +<p>Tales, whose original refinement teaches</p> +<p>The pride of eloquence in—dying speeches!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>What an apotheosis have we here!</p> +<p class="i2">What equal laws th’ awards of fame dispose!</p> +<p>Capture a fort—assassinate a peer—</p> +<p class="i2">Alike be chronicled in startling prose—</p> +<p>Alike be dramatised—(how near</p> +<p class="i2">Is clever crime to virtue!)—at +Tussaud’s</p> +<p>Be grouped with all the criminals at large,</p> +<p>From burglar Sheppard unto fiend Laffarge!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The women are best judges after all!</p> +<p class="i2">And Sheridan was right, and Plagi-ary;</p> +<p>To their decision all things mundane fall,</p> +<p class="i2">From court to counting-house; from square to +dairy;</p> +<p>From caps to chemistry; from tract to shawl,</p> +<p class="i2">And then these female verdicts never vary!</p> +<p>In fact, on lap-dogs, lovers, buhl, and boddices,</p> +<p>There are no critics like these mortal goddesses!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>To please such readers, authors make it answer</p> +<p class="i2">To trace a pedigree to the creation</p> +<p>Of some old Saxon peer; a monstrous grandsire,</p> +<p class="i2">Whose battles tell, in print, to +admiration—</p> +<p>But I, unfortunate, have never once a</p> +<p class="i2">Mysterious hint of any great relation;</p> +<p>I know whether Shem or Japhet—right sir—</p> +<p>Was my progenitor—nor care a kreutzer.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>For, though there’s matter for regret in losing</p> +<p class="i2">An opportune occasion to record</p> +<p>The feats in gambling, duelling, seducing—</p> +<p class="i2">Conventional acquirements of a lord—</p> +<p>Still I have stories startling and amusing,</p> +<p class="i2">Which I can tell and vouch, upon my word.</p> +<p>To anybody who desires to hear ’em—</p> +<p>But don’t be nervous, pray,—you needn’t fear +’em.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But what of my poor Hy-son all this while?</p> +<p class="i2">She saved the gardener by a timely kiss.</p> +<p>Few husbands are there proof against a smile,</p> +<p class="i2">And Te-pott’s rage endured no more than +this.</p> +<p>Ah, reader! gentle, moral, free from guile,</p> +<p class="i2">Think you she did so <em>very</em> much amiss?</p> +<p>She was not love-sick for the fellow quite—</p> +<p>She merely <em>thought</em> of him—from morn till +night!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A state of mind how much by parents dreaded!</p> +<p class="i2">(By those outrageous parents, English mammas,</p> +<p>Who scarcely own their daughters till they’re +wedded)—</p> +<p class="i2">How postulant of patent Chubbs and Bramahs!</p> +<p>And eyes—the safest locks when locks are +needed!—</p> +<p class="i2">And Abigails, and homilies, and grammars;</p> +<p>And other antidotes for “detrimentals”—</p> +<p><em>Id est</em>, fine gentlemen unblest with rentals.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But this could not stop here; nor did it stop—</p> +<p class="i2">For both were anxious for—an explanation.</p> +<p>And in the harem’s grating was a gap,</p> +<p class="i2">Whence Hy-son peep’d in modest hesitation;</p> +<p>While on his spade the gardener would prop</p> +<p class="i2">Himself, and issue looks of adoration;</p> +<p>Until it happen’d, like a lucky rhyme,</p> +<p>Each for the other look’d at the same time.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then fell the gardener upon his knees,</p> +<p class="i2">And kiss’d his hand in manner most +devout—</p> +<p>So Hy-son couldn’t find the heart to tease</p> +<p class="i2">The poor dear man by being in a pout;—</p> +<p>Besides, she might go walk among the trees,</p> +<p class="i2">And not a word of scandal be made out.</p> +<p>She thought a—very—little more upon it,</p> +<p>Then smiled to Sou-chong,—and put on her bonnet.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>PUNCH AND THE SWISS GIANTESS!</h2> +<h3>SHERIFFS’ COURT.—WEDNESDAY.</h3> +<h4>BONBON <em>versus</em> PUNCH.</h4> +<div class="note"> +<p>[This important cause came on for trial on Wednesday last. That +it has not been reported in the morning papers is doubtless to be +attributed to the most reckless bribery on the part of the +plaintiff. He has, no doubt, sought to hush up his infamy; the +defendant has no such contemptible cowardice. Hence a special +reporter was engaged for PUNCH. The trial is given here, firstly, +for the beautiful illustration it affords of the philosophy of the +English law of <em>crim. con.</em>; and secondly on a +principle—for PUNCH has principles—laid down by the +defendant in his course of public life, to show himself to the +world the man he really is. In pursuit of this moral and +philosophical object, should the waywardness of his genius ever +induce PUNCH to cut a throat, pick a pocket, or, as a Middlesex +magistrate (for PUNCH has been upon the bench many a year), to +offer for sale a tempting lot of liberty to any competent +captive,—should PUNCH rob as a vulgar Old Bailey delinquent, +or genteelly swindle as an Aldermanic share-holder,—in each +and every of these cases there will, <em>on discovery</em>, be the +fullest report of the same in PUNCH’S own paper, PUNCH being +deeply impressed with the belief that an exhibition of the +weaknesses of a great man <span class="pagenum"><a id="page246" +name="page246"></a>[pg 246]</span> is highly beneficial to public +philosophy and public morals. PUNCH now retires in favour of his +“own” reporter.]</p> +</div> +<p>As early as six o’clock in the morning, the neighbourhood +of the court presented a most lively and bustling aspect. Carriages +continued to arrive from the west-end; and we recognised scores of +ladies whose names are familiar to the readers of the <em>Court +Journal</em> and <em>Morning Post</em>. Several noblemen, amateurs +of the subject, arrived on horseback. By eight o’clock the +four sides of Red Lion-square were, if we may be allowed the +metaphor, a mass of living heads. We owe a debt of gratitude to Mr. +Davis, the respected and conscientious officer for the Sheriff of +Middlesex; that gentleman, in the kindest spirit of hospitality, +allowing us six inches of his door-step when the crowd was at its +greatest pressure. Several inmates of Mr. Davis’s delightful +mansion had a charming view of the scene from the top windows, +where we observed bars of the most picturesque and <em>moyen +age</em> description. At ten minutes to nine, Mr. Charles Phillips, +counsel for the plaintiff, arrived in Lamb’s Conduit-passage, +and was loudly cheered. On the appearance of Mr. Adolphus, counsel +for the defendant, a few miscreants in human shape essayed groans +and hisses; they were, however, speedily put down by the New +Police.</p> +<p>We entered the court at nine o’clock. The galleries were +crowded with rank, beauty, and fashion. Conflicting odours of +lavender, musk, and <em>Eau de Cologne</em> emanated from ladies on +the bench, most of whom were furnished with opera-glasses, +sandwich-boxes, and species of flasks, vulgarly known as +pocket-pistols. In all our experience we never recollect such a +thrill as that shot through the court, when the crier of the same +called out—</p> +<h4>BONBON <em>v</em>. PUNCH!</h4> +<p>Mr. SMITH (a young yet rising barrister with green spectacles) +with delicate primness opened the case. A considerable pause, +when—</p> +<p>Mr. CHARLES PHILLIPS, having successfully struggled with his +feelings, rose to address the court for the plaintiff. The learned +gentleman said it had been his hard condition as a barrister to see +a great deal of human wickedness; but the case which, most +reluctantly, he approached that day, made him utterly despair of +the heart of man. He felt ashamed of his two legs, knowing that the +defendant in this case was a biped. He had a horror of the +mysterious iniquities of human nature—seeing that the +defendant was a man, a housekeeper, and, what in this case trebled +his infamy, a husband and a father. Gracious Heaven! when he +reflected—but no; he would confine himself to a simple +statement of facts. That simplicity would tell with a double-knock +on the hearts of a susceptible jury. The afflicted, the agonised +plaintiff was a public man. He was, until lately, the happy +possessor of a spotless wife and an inimitable spring-van. It was +was a union assented to by reason, smiled on by prudence. Mr. +Bonbon was the envied owner of a perambulating exhibition: he +counted among his riches a Spotted Boy, a New Zealand Cannibal, and +a Madagascar Cow. The crowning rose was, however, to be gathered, +and he plucked, and (as he fondly thought) made his own for ever, +the Swiss Giantess! Mr. Bonbon had wealth in his van—the lady +had wealth in herself; hence it was, in every respect, what the +world would denominate an equal match.</p> +<p>The learned counsel said he would call witnesses to prove the +blissful atmosphere in which the parties lived, until the +defendant, like a domestic upas-tree, tainted and polluted it. That +van was another Eden, until PUNCH, the serpent, entered. The lady +was a native of Switzerland—yes, of Switzerland. Oh, that he +(the learned gentleman) could follow her to her early +home!—that he could paint her with the first blush and dawn +of innocence, tinting her virgin cheek as the morning sun tinted +the unsullied snows of her native Jungfrau!—that he could +lead the gentlemen of the jury to that Swiss cottage where the +gentle Félicité (such was the lady’s name) +lisped her early prayer—that he could show them the mountains +that had echoed with her songs (since made so very popular by +Madame Stockhausen)—that he could conjure up in that court +the goats whose lacteal fluid was wont to yield to the pressure of +her virgin fingers—the kids that gambolled and made holiday +about her—the birds that whistled in her path—the +streams that flowed at her feet—the avalanches, with their +majestic thunder, that fell about her. Would he could subpoena such +witnesses! then would the jury feel, what his poor words could +never make them feel—the loss of his injured client. On one +hand would be seen the simple Swiss maiden—a violet among the +rocks—a mountain dove—an inland pearl—a rainbow +of the glaciers—a creature pure as her snows, but not as +cold; and on the other the fallen wife—a monument of shame! +This was a commercial country; and the jury would learn with +additional horror that it was in the sweet confidence of a +commercial transaction that the defendant obtained access to his +interesting victim. Yes, gentlemen, (said Mr. P.,) it was under the +base, the heartless, the dastardly excuse of business, that the +plaintiff poured his venom in the ear of a too confiding woman. He +had violated the sacred bonds of human society—the noblest +ties that hold the human heart—the sweetest tendrils that +twine about human affections. This should be shown to the jury. +Letters from the plaintiff would be read, in which his +heart—or rather that ace of spades he carried in his breast +and called his heart—would be laid bare in open court. But +the gentlemen of the jury would teach a terrible lesson that day. +They would show that the socialist should not guide his accursed +bark into the tranquil seas of domestic comfort, and anchor it upon +the very hearthstone of conjugal felicity. No—as the +gentlemen of the jury were husbands and fathers, as they were +fathers and not husbands, as they were neither one nor the other, +but hoped to be both—they would that day hurl such a +thunderbolt at the pocket of the defendant—they would so +thrice-gild the incurable ulcers of the plaintiff, that all the +household gods of the United Empire would hymn them to their mighty +rest, and Hymen himself keep continual carnival at their +amaranthine hearths. “Gentlemen of the jury (said the learned +counsel in conclusion), I leave you with a broken heart in your +hands! A broken heart, gentlemen! Creation’s masterpiece, +flawed cracked, SHIVERED TO BITS! See how the blood flows from +it—mark where its strings are cut and cut—its delicate +fibres violated—its primitive aroma evaporated to all the +winds of heaven. Make that heart your own, gentlemen, and say at +how many pounds you value the demoniac damage. And oh, may your +verdict still entitle you to the blissful confidence of that +divine, purpureal sex, the fairest floral specimens of which I see +before me! May their unfolding fragrance make sweet your daily +bread; and when you die, from the tears of conjugal love, may thyme +and sweet marjoram spring and blossom above your graves!”</p> +<p>Here the emotion of the court was unparalleled in the memory of +the oldest attorney. Showers of tears fell from the gallery, so +that there was a sudden demand for umbrellas.</p> +<p>The learned counsel sat down, and, having wiped his eyes, ate a +sandwich.</p> +<p>There were other letters, but we have selected the least +glowing. Mr. Charles Phillips then called his witnesses.</p> +<p>Peter Snooks examined: Was employed by plaintiff; recollected +defendant coming to the van to propose a speculation, in which +Madame Bonbon was to play with him. Defendant came very often when +plaintiff was out. Once caught Madame Bonbon on defendant’s +knee. Once heard Madame Bonbon say, “Bless your darling +nose!” Was sure it was defendant’s nose. Was shocked at +her levity, but consented to go for gin—Madame found the +money. Had a glass myself, and drank their healths. Plaintiff never +beat his wife; he couldn’t: they were of very uneven habits; +she was seven feet four, plaintiff was four feet seven.</p> +<p>Cross-examined by Mr. Adolphus: Plaintiff was dreadfully +afflicted at infidelity of his wife: had become quite +desperate—never sober since; was never sober before. On first +night of the news plaintiff was quite delirious; took six plates of +alamode beef, and two pots of porter.</p> +<p>Sarah Pillowcase examined: Was chambermaid at the Tinder-box and +Flint, New Cut; had known defendant since she was a +child—also knew plaintiff’s wife. They came together on +the 1st of April, about twelve at night. Understood they had been +in a private box at the Victoria with an order. They had twelve +dozen of oysters for supper, and eight Welch-rabbits: the lady +found the money. Thought, of course, they were married, or would +rather have died than have served them. They made a hearty +breakfast: the lady found the money.</p> +<p>Cross-examined by Mr. Adolphus: Would swear to the lady, as she +had once paid a shilling to see her.</p> +<p>(Here it was intimated by the learned judge that ladies might +leave the court if they chose; it was evident, however, that no +lady heard such intimation, as no lady stirred.)</p> +<p>Cross-examination continued: Yes, would swear it. Knew the +obligation of an oath, and would swear it.</p> +<p>This ended the case for the plaintiff.</p> +<p>Mr. ADOLPHUS addressed the court for the defendant. He had not +the golden tongue—no, he was not blessed with the oratory of +his learned friend. He would therefore confine himself to the +common sense view of the question. He was not talking to Arcadian +shepherds (he was very happy to see his own butcher in the +jury-box), but to men of business. If there had been any arts +practised, it was on the side of the plaintiff’s wife. His +client had visited the plaintiff out of pure compassion. The +plaintiff’s show was a failing concern; his client, with a +benevolence which had marked his long career, wished to give him +the benefit of his own attractions, joined to those of the woman. +Well, the plaintiff knew the value of money, and therefore left his +wife and the defendant to arrange the affair between them. +“Gentlemen of the jury,” continued the learned counsel, +“it must appear to you, that on the part of the plaintiff +this is not an affair of the heart, but a matter of the +breeches’ pocket. He leaves his wife—a fascinating, +versatile creature—with my client, I confess it, an +acknowledged man of gallantry. Well, the result is—what was +to be expected. My learned friend has dwelt, with his accustomed +eloquence, on his client’s broken heart. I will not speak of +his heart; but I must say that the man who, bereaved of the partner +of his bosom, can still eat six plates of alamode beef, must have a +most excellent stomach. Gentlemen, beware of giving heavy damages +in this case, or otherwise you will unconsciously be the promoters +of great immorality. This is no paradox, gentlemen; for I am +credibly informed that if the man succeed in getting large damages, +he will immediately take his wife home to his bosom and his van, +and instead of exhibiting her, as he has hitherto done, for one +penny, he will, on the strength of the notoriety of this trial, and +as a man knowing the curiosity of society, immediately advance that +penny to threepence. You will, therefore, consider your verdict, +gentlemen, and give such moderate damages as will entirely mend the +plaintiff’s broken heart.”</p> +<p>The jury, without retiring from the box, returned a verdict of +“Damages One Farthing!”</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>We are credibly informed—though the evidence was not +adduced in court—that Monsieur Bonbon first suspected his +dishonour from his wife’s hair papers. She had most +negligently curled her tresses in the soft paper epistles of her +<em>innamorato</em>.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page247" name="page247"></a>[pg +247]</span> +<h2>PUNCH’S PENCILLINGS.—No. XXI.</h2> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/021-03.png"><img src= +"images/021-03.png" alt= +"A man with Cupid's wings sits in a chair picking his teeth with an arrow. A quiver is marked 'Protocols'" +id="img021-03" name="img021-03" width="100%" /></a> +<p>CUPID OUT OF PLACE.</p> +<p style="text-align:right;"><em>From a Sketch made in “THE +PALMERSTON GALLERY.”</em></p> +</div> +<!-- [pg 248] --> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page249" name="page249"></a>[pg +249]</span> +<h2>THE FETES FOR THE POLISH—AND FATE OF THE BRITISH +POOR.</h2> +<p>“Charity begins at home,” says, or rather said, an +admirable old proverb; but alack! the adage, or the times, or both, +are out of joint—the wholesome maxim has lost its +force—and homes for Charity must now be far as the +<em>Poles</em> asunder, ere the benign influence of the weeping +goddess can fall upon its wretched supplicants.</p> +<p>In private life the neglect of a domestic hearth for the +vainglorious squandering abroad of the means that could and ought +to render that the chief seat of comfort and independence, calls +down upon the thoughtless and heartless squanderer and abuser of +his means the just indignation and merited contempt of every +thinking and properly constituted mind. The “Charity” +that does not begin at home is the worst species of unjustifiable +prodigality, and the first step to the absolute ruin of the +“nearest and dearest” for the sake of the profligate +and abandoned. And no sophistry can justify the apparent liberality +that deprives others of their just and urgent dues.</p> +<p>It may be and is most noble to feed the widow and to clothe the +orphan; but where is the beneficence of the deed if the wife and +children of the ostentatious donor—the victims of the +performance of such acts—are left themselves to endure misery +and privations, from which his inadequate means cannot exempt the +stranger and the giver’s own household!</p> +<p>The sparrow who unwittingly rears the cuckoo’s spurious +offspring, tending with care the ultimate destroyer of its own +young, does so in perfect ignorance of the results about to follow +the misplaced affection. The cravings of the interloper are +satisfied to the detriment of its own offspring; and when the +full-fledged recipient of its misplaced bounty no longer needs its +aid, the thankless stranger wings its way on its far-off course, +selfishly careless of the fostering bird that brought it into life; +and this may be looked upon as one of the results generally +attendant upon a blind forgetfulness of <em>where</em> our first +endeavours for the amelioration of the wants of others should be +made.</p> +<p>It has ever been the crying sin of the vastly sympathetic to +weep for the miseries of the distant, and blink at the wretchedness +their eyes—if not their hearts—must ache to see. Their +charity must have its proper stage, their sentiments the proper +objects,—and their imaginations the undisturbed right to +revel in the supposititious grievances of the far-off wretched and +oppressed. The poor black man! the tortured slave! the benighted +infidel! the debased image of his maker! the sunken bondsman! These +terms must be the “Open sesame” for the breasts from +whence spring bibles, bribes, blankets, glass beads, pocket-combs, +tracts, teachers, missions, and missionaries. Oppression is what +they would put down; but then the oppression must be of +“foreign manufacture.” Your English, genuine home-made +article, though as superior in strength and endurance as our own +canvas is to the finest fold of gauze-like cambric, is in their +opinion a thing not worth a thought. A half oppressed Caffre is an +object of ten thousand times more sympathy than a wholly oppressed +Englishman; a half-starved Pole the more fitting recipient of the +same proportion of actual bounty to a wholly starving peasant of +our own land of law and liberty.</p> +<p>Let one-tenth the disgusting details so nobly exposed in the +<em>Times</em> newspaper, as to the frightful state of some of our +legalised poor law inquisitions, appear as extracts from the +columns of a <em>foreign</em> journal, stating such treatment to +exist amongst a foreign population, and mark the result. Why, the +town would teem with meetings and the papers with speeches. Royal, +noble, and honourable chairmen and vice chairmen would launch out +their just anathemas against the heartless despots whose realms +were disgraced by such atrocities. Think, think of the aged poor +torn from their kindred, caged in a prison, refused all aid within, +debarred from every hope without,—think of the flesh, the +very flesh, rotting by slow degrees, and then in putrid masses +falling from their wretched bones: think, we say, on +this—then give what name you can, save murder, to their +quickly succeeding death.</p> +<p>Fancy children—children that should be in their +prime—so caged and fed that the result is disease in its most +loathsome form, and with all its most appalling consequences! No +hope! no flight! The yet untainted, as it were, chained to the +spot, with mute despair watching the slow infection, and with +breaking hearts awaiting the hour—the moment—when it +<em>must</em> reach to them!</p> +<p>We say, think of these things—not as if they were the +doings in England, and therefore legalised matters of +course—but think of them as the arts of some despot in a +far-off colony, and oh, how all hearts would burn—all tongues +curse and call for vengeance on the abetors of such atrocities!</p> +<p>The supporters of the rights of man would indeed pour forth +their eloquent denunciations against the oppressors of the absent. +The poetry of passion would be exhausted to depict the frightful +state of the crimeless and venerable victim of tyranny, bowing his +grey hairs with sorrow to the grave; while the wailing of the +helpless innocents <em>different indeed in colour</em>, but in +heart and spirit like ourselves, being sprung from the one great +source, would echo throughout the land, and find responses in every +bosom not lost to the kindly feelings of good-will towards its +fellows! Had the would-be esteemed philanthropists but these +“<em>foreign cues</em> for passion,” they would +indeed</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i8">“Drown the stage with tears,</p> +<p>And cleave the general ear with horrid speech;</p> +<p>Make mad the guilty, and appal the free;</p> +<p>Confound the ignorant; and amaze, indeed,</p> +<p>The very faculties of eyes and ears.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>But, alas! there is no such motive; these most destitute of +Destitution’s children are simply fellow-countrymen and +fellow-Christians. Sons of the same soil, and worshippers of the +same God, they need no good works in the way of proselyzation to +save them from eternal perdition; consequently they receive no help +to keep them from temporal torture.</p> +<p>To convince themselves that these remarks are neither +unwarrantably severe, nor in the slightest degree overcharged, let +our readers not only refer to the revolting doings chronicled in +the <em>Times</em>, but let them find the further illustration of +this <em>foreign penchant</em> in the recent doings at the +magnificently-attended ball given in behalf of the <em>Polish +Refugees</em>, and consequently commanding the support of the +humane, enlightened, and charitable English; and then let them cast +their eyes over the cold shoulder turned towards a proposition for +the <em>same</em> act of charity being consummated for the relief +of the poverty-stricken and starving families of the destitute and +deserving artisans now literally starving under their very eyes, +located no farther off than in the wretched locality of +Spitalfields! An opinion—and doubtless an honest one—is +given by the Lord Mayor, that any attempt to relieve <em>their +wants</em>, in the way found so efficacious for <em>the Polish +Refugees</em>, would be madness, inasmuch as it would, <em>as +heretofore</em>, prove an absolute failure. Reader, is there +anything of the cuckoo and the sparrow in the above assertion? Is +it not true? And if it is so, is it not a more than crying evil? Is +it not a most vile blot upon our laws—a most beastly libel +upon our creed and our country? Is no relief ever to be given to +the immediate objects who should be the persons benefited by our +bounty? Are those who, in the prosperity proceeding from their +unceasing and ill-paid toil, added their quota to the succour of +others, now that poverty has fallen on them, to be left the sport +of fortune and the slaves of suffering? Do good, we say, in +God’s name, to all, if good can be done to all. But do not +rob the lamb of its natural due—its mother’s +nourishment—to waste it on an alien. There is no spirit of +illiberality in these remarks; they are put forward to advocate the +rights of our own destitute countrymen—to claim for them a +share of the lavish commiseration bestowed on others—to call +attention to the desolation of <em>their</em> hearths—the +wreck of their comforts—the awful condition of their starving +and dependent families—and to give the really charitable an +opportunity of reserving some of their kindnesses for home +consumption. Let this be their <em>just</em> object, and not one +among the relieved would withhold his mite from their suffering +fellows in other climes. But in Heaven’s name, let the adage +root itself once more in every Englishman’s “heart of +hearts,” and once more let “Charity begin at +home!”</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE FIRE AT THE ADELPHI THEATRE.</h3> +<p>Yates was nearly treating the enlightened British public with an +antidote to “the vast receptacle of 8,000 tons of +water,” by setting fire to the saloon chimney. Great as the +consternation of the audience was in the front, it was far exceeded +by the alarm of the actors behind the curtain, for they are so +sensible of the manager’s daring genius, that they concluded +he had set fire to the house in order to convert “the space +usually devoted to <em>illusion</em> into the area of +reality.” The great Mr. Freeborn actually rushed out of the +theatre without his rouge. Little Paul drank off a glass of neat +water. Mr. John Sanders was met at the end of Maiden Lane, with his +legs thrust into the sleeves of his coat, and the rest of his body +encased in the upper part of a property dragon; whilst little round +Wilkinson was vainly endeavouring to squeeze himself into a wooden +waterspout. Had he succeeded he might have applied for the reward +offered by the Royal Society for a method of</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/021-04.png"><img src= +"images/021-04.png" alt= +"A man holds up a broken hoop, part of which has been straightened into an L shape." +id="img021-04" name="img021-04" width="50%" /></a> +<p>SQUARING THE CIRCLE.</p> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page250" name="page250"></a>[pg +250]</span> +<h2>THE CRIMES OF EATING.</h2> +<div class="dropcap"><a href="images/021-05.png"><img src= +"images/021-05.png" alt="Two whales 'kiss' to form a letter S." id= +"img021-05" name="img021-05" width="100%" /></a></div> +<p><span class="hide">S</span>ir Robert Peel and her +Majesty’s Ministers have, we learn, taken a hint in criminal +jurisprudence from his Worship the Mayor of Reading, and are now +preparing a bill for Parliament, which they trust will be the means +of checking the alarming desire for food which has begun to spread +amongst the poorer classes of society. The crime of eating has +latterly been indulged in to such an immoderate extent by the +operatives of Yorkshire and the other manufacturing districts, that +we do not wonder at our sagacious Premier adopting strong measures +to suppress the unnatural and increasing appetites of the +people.</p> +<p>Taking up the sound judicial views of the great functionary +above alluded to, who committed Bernard Cavanagh, the fasting man, +to prison for smelling at a saveloy and a slice of ham, Sir Robert +has laid down a graduated—we mean a +<em>sliding—scale</em> of penalties for the crime of eating, +proportioning, with the most delicate skill, the exact amount of +the punishment to the enormity of the offence. By his profound +wisdom he has discovered that the great increase of crime in these +countries is entirely attributable to over-feeding the multitude. +Like the worthy Mr. Bumble, in “Oliver Twist,” he +protests “it is meat and not madness” that ails the +people. He can even trace the origin of every felony to the +particular kind of food in which the felon has indulged. He detects +incipient incendiarism in eggs and fried bacon—homicide in an +Irish stew—robbery and house-breaking in a basin of +mutton-broth—and an aggravated assault in a pork sausage. +Upon this noble and statesmanlike theory Sir Robert has based a +bill which, when it becomes the law of the land, will, we feel +assured, tend effectually to keep the rebellious stomachs of the +people in a state of wholesome depletion. And as we now punish +those offenders who break the Queen’s peace, we shall, in +like manner, then inflict the law upon the hungry scoundrels who +dare to break the Queen’s Fast.</p> +<p>We have been enabled, through a private source, to obtain the +following authentic copy of Sir Robert’s scale of the +offences under the intended Act, with the penalty attached to each, +viz.:</p> +<table summary="Eating penalties" style="width:80%;margin:auto;"> +<tr> +<td>For penny rolls or busters</td> +<td>Imprisonment not exceeding a week.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>For bread of any kind, with cheese or butter</td> +<td>Imprisonment for a month.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>For saveloys, German sausages, and Black puddings</td> +<td>One month's imprisonment, with hard labour.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>For a slice of ham, bacon, or meat of any kind</td> +<td>Imprisonment for three months, and exercise on the +treadmill.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>For a hearty dinner on beef and pudding</td> +<td>Transportation for seven years.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>For do. with a pot of home-brewed ale.</td> +<td>Transportation for life.</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>As these offences apply only to those who have no right to eat, +the wealthy and respectable portion of society need be under no +apprehension that they will be exposed to any inconvenience by the +operation of the new law.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>NOBODY CARES AND*</h3> +<p>WELLINGTON has justified his claim to the <em>sobriquet</em> of +‘the iron Duke’ by the manner in which he treated the +deputation from Paisley. His Grace excused himself from listening +to the tale of misery which several gentlemen had travelled 500 +miles to narrate to him, on the plea that he was not a Minister of +the Crown. Yet we have a right to presume that the Queen prorogued +Parliament upon his Grace’s recommendation, so if he be not +one of Peel’s Cabinet what is he? We suppose</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/021-06.png"><img src= +"images/021-06.png" alt="A man who is all nose." id="img021-06" +name="img021-06" width="50%" /></a> +<p>* NOBODY NOSE.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>HINTS HOW TO ENJOY AN OMNIBUS.</h3> +<ol> +<li> +<p>On getting in, care neither for toes or knees of the passengers; +but drive your way up to the top, steadying yourself by the +shoulders, chests, or even faces of those seated.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>Seat yourself with a jerk, pushing against one neighbour, and +thrusting your elbow into the side of the other. You will thus get +plenty of room.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>If possible, enter with a stick or umbrella, pointed at full +length; so that any sudden move of the “bus” may thrust +it into some one’s stomach. It will make you feared.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>When seated, occupy, if possible, the room of two, and revenge +the treatment you have received on entering, by throwing every +opposition in the way of a new-comer, especially if it be a woman +with a child in her arms. It is a good plan to rest firmly on your +umbrella, with your arms at right angles.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>Open or shut windows as it suits you; men with colds, or women +with toothaches, have no business in omnibuses. If they don’t +like it, they can get out; no one <em>forces</em> them to ride.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>Young bucks may stare any decent woman out of countenance, put +their legs up along the seats, and if going out to dinner, wipe the +mud off their boots on the seats. They are only plush.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>If middle-aged gentlemen are musical or political, they can +dislocate a tune in something between a bark and a grumble, or +endeavour to provoke an argument by declaring very loudly that Lord +R—— or the Duke “is a thorough scoundrel,” +according to their opinion of public affairs. If this don’t +take, they can keep up a perpetual squabble with the conductor, +which will show they think themselves of some importance.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>Ladies wishing to be agreeable can bring lap dogs, large paper +parcels, and children, to whom an omnibus is a ship, though you +wish you were out of their reach.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>Conductors should particularly aim to take up laundresses +returning with a large family washing, bakers and butchers in their +working jackets, and, if a wet day, should be particular not to +pull up to the pathway.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>For want of space, the following brevities must +suffice:—Never say where you wish to stop until after you +have passed the place, and then pull them up with a sudden jerk. +Keep your money in your waistcoat-pocket, and button your under and +upper coat completely, and never attempt to get at it until the +door is opened, and then let it be nothing under a five-shilling +piece. Never ask any one to speak to the conductor for you, but hit +or poke him with your umbrella or stick, or rap his hand as it +rests on the door. He puts it there on purpose. Always stop the +wrong omnibus, and ask if the Paddington goes to Walworth, and the +Kennington to Whitechapel: you are not obliged to read all the +rigmarole they paint on the outside. Finally, consider an omnibus +as a carriage, a bed, a public-house, a place of amusement, or a +boxing-ring, where you may ride, sleep, smoke, chaff, or quarrel, +as it may suit you.</p> +</li> +</ol> +<hr /> +<h3>PETER THE GREAT (FOOL?)</h3> +<p>The following colloquy occurred between a candidate for suicidal +fame and the City’s Peter Laureate:—</p> +<p>“So, sir, you tried to hang yourself, did you?”</p> +<p>“In course I did, or I should not have put my head in the +noose.”</p> +<p>“You had no business to do so.”</p> +<p>“I did it for my pleasure, not for business.”</p> +<p>“I’ll let you see, sir, you shan’t do it +either for fun or earnest.”</p> +<p>“Are you a Tory, Sir Peter?”</p> +<p>“A Tory, sir! No, sir; I’m a magistrate.”</p> +<p>“Ah, that’s why you interfere; you must be a low +Rad, or you wouldn’t prevent a man from</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/021-07.png"><img src= +"images/021-07.png" alt="A man holds a paddle up to a woman." id= +"img021-07" name="img021-07" width="70%" /></a> +<p>DOING WHAT HE LIKES WITH HIS HONE.”</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE WISE MAN OF THE EAST.</h3> +<p>SIR PETER LAURIE begs Punch to inform him, which of +Arabia’s Children is alluded to in Moore’s beautiful +ballad,</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>“Farewell to thee, Araby’s daughter.”</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>He presumes it is Miss Elizabeth, commonly called +<em>Bess-Arabia</em>.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page251" name="page251"></a>[pg +251]</span> +<h3>SONGS OF THE SEEDY.—No. VII.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">I love the night with its mantle dark,</p> +<p class="i4">That hangs like a cloak on the face of the sky;</p> +<p class="i2">Oh what to me is the song of the lark?</p> +<p class="i4">Give me the owl; and I’ll tell you why.</p> +<p class="i2">It is that at night I can walk abroad,</p> +<p class="i4">Which I may not do in the garish day,</p> +<p class="i2">Without being met in the streets, and bored</p> +<p class="i4">By some cursed dun, that I cannot pay.</p> +<p class="i10">No! no! night let it ever be:</p> +<p>The owl! the owl! the owl! is the bird for me!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">Then tempt me not with thy soft guitar,</p> +<p class="i4">And thy voice like the sound of a silver bell,</p> +<p class="i2">To take a stroll, where the cold ones are</p> +<p class="i4">Who in lanes, not of trees but of +fetters<sup>1</sup><span class="sidenote">1. Fetter-lane is clearly +alluded to by the poet. It is believed to be the bailiffs’ +quarter.</span>, dwell.</p> +<p class="i2">But wait until night upsets its ink</p> +<p class="i4">On the earth, on the sea, and all over the sky,</p> +<p class="i2">And then I’ll go to the wide world’s +brink</p> +<p class="i4">With the girl I love, without feeling shy.</p> +<p class="i10">Oh, then, may it night for ever be!</p> +<p>The owl! the owl! the owl! is the bird for me!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">But you turn aside! Ah! did you know,</p> +<p class="i4">What by searching the office you’d plainly +see,</p> +<p class="i2">That I’m hunted down, like a (Richard) Roe,</p> +<p class="i4">You’d not thus avert your eyes from me.</p> +<p class="i2">Oh never did giant look after Thumb</p> +<p class="i4">(When the latter was keeping out of the way)</p> +<p class="i2">With a more tremendous fee-fo-fum</p> +<p class="i4">Than I’m pursued by a dread <em>fi-fa</em>.</p> +<p class="i2">Too-whit! too-whit! is the owl’s sad song!</p> +<p class="i4">A writ! a writ! a writ! when mid the throng,</p> +<p class="i2">Is ringing in my ears the whole day long.</p> +<p class="i10">Ah me! night let it be:</p> +<p>The owl! the stately owl! is the bird—yes, the bird for +me!</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>POPISH RED-DRESS.</h3> +<p>The <em>Examiner</em> states that there is no such fabric as +scarlet cloth made in Ireland. If this be true, the Lady of +Babylon, who is said to reside in that country, and to be addicted +to scarlet clothing, must be in a very destitute condition.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A SPOON CASE.</h3> +<p>A well-dressed individual has lately been visiting the +lodging-house keepers of the metropolis. He engages +lodgings—but being, as he says, just arrived from a long +journey, he begs to have dinner before he returns to the +Coach-Office for his luggage. This request being usually complied +with, the new lodger, while the table is being laid, watches his +opportunity and bolts with the silver spoons. Sir Peter Laurie +says, that since this practice of filching the spoons has +commenced, he does not feel himself safe in his own house. He only +hopes the thief may be brought before him, and he promises to give +him his <em>dessert</em>, by committing him without</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/021-08.png"><img src= +"images/021-08.png" alt="Two cats fight over a plate of scraps." +id="img021-08" name="img021-08" width="50%" /></a> +<p>STANDING UPON CEREMONY.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>A DAB FOR LAURIE.</h3> +<p>SIR PETER LAURIE, on a recent visit to Billingsgate for the +purpose of making what he calls a <em>pisciatery</em> tour, was +much astonished at the vigorous performance of various of the real +“live fish,” some of which, as he sagely remarked, +appeared to be perfect “Dabs” at jumping, and no doubt +legitimate descendants from some particularly</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/021-09.png"><img src= +"images/021-09.png" alt="A satisfied-looking fish smoking a pipe." +id="img021-09" name="img021-09" width="30%" /></a> +<p>MERRY OLD SOLE.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>SIBTHORPS CORNER.</h3> +<p>If old Nick were to lose his tail, where should he go to supply +the deficiency?—To a gin-palace, because there they +<em>re-tail</em> bad spirits.</p> +<p>Mr. G., who has a very ugly wife, named Euphemia, was asked +lately why his spouse was the image of himself—and, to his +great annoyance, discovered that it was because she was his +<em>Effie-G</em><sup>2</sup><span class="sidenote">2. I could make +better than the above myself. E.G.—In what way should Her +Majesty stand upon a Bill in Parliament so as to quash it?—By +putting her <em>V-toe</em> (<em>veto</em>) on +it.—PRINTER’S DEVIL.</span>.</p> +<p>I floored Ben-beau D’Israeli the other day with the +following:—“Ben,” said I, “if I were going +to buy a violin, what method should I take to get it cheap?” +Benjie looked rather more foolish than usual, and gave it up. +“Why, you ninny,” I replied, “I should buy an +ounce of castor-oil, and then I would get a phial in +(<em>violin</em>).” I think I had him there.</p> +<p>Why is a female of the canine species suckling her whelps like a +philosophic principle?—Because she is a dogma +(<em>dog-ma</em>).</p> +<p>What part of a horse’s foot is like an irate +governor?—The pastern (<em>pa-stern</em>).</p> +<p>Why is the march of a funeral procession like a +turnpike?—Because it is a toll-gait (<em>toll-gate</em>).</p> +<p>Who is the greatest literary <em>star</em>?—The +<em>poet-aster</em>.</p> +<p>Why is an Israelite named William Solomons similar to a great +public festival?—Because he is a Jubilee +(<em>Jew-Billy</em>).</p> +<p>Why are polished manners like a pea-jacket?—Because they +are address (<em>a dress</em>).</p> +<p>Why are swallows like a leap head-over-heels?—Because they +are a summer set (<em>a somerset</em>).</p> +<hr /> +<h3>CUTTING IT RATHER SHORT.</h3> +<p>The unexpected adjournment of the Court of Queen’s Bench, +by Lord Denman, on last Thursday, has filled the bar with +consternation.—“What is to become of our +clients?” said Fitzroy Kelly.—“And of our +fees?” added the Solicitor General.—“I feel +deeply for my clients,” sighed Serjeant +Bompas.—“We all compassionate them, brother,” +observed Wilde.—In short, one and all declare it was a most +arbitrary and unprecedented curtailment of their little +<em>term</em>—and, to say the least of it,</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/021-10.png"><img src= +"images/021-10.png" alt="A man sweats while playing a trumpet." id= +"img021-10" name="img021-10" width="50%" /></a> +<p>A MOST DISTRESSING BLOW.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>NATIONAL DISTRESS.</h3> +<p>The Tee-totallers say that the majority of the people are +victims to Bacchus. In the present hard times they are more likely +to be victims to</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/021-11.png"><img src= +"images/021-11.png" alt="A man holds up an empty jug." id= +"img021-11" name="img021-11" width="50%" /></a> +<p>JUG O’ NOUGHT—(JUGGERNAUT.)</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page252" name="page252"></a>[pg +252]</span> +<h3>SONGS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL.—No. 12.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Away! away! ye hopes which stray</p> +<p class="i2">Like jeering spectres from the tomb!</p> +<p>Ye cannot light the coming night,</p> +<p class="i2">And shall not mock its gathering gloom;</p> +<p>Though dark the cloud shall form my shroud—</p> +<p class="i2">Though danger league with racking doubt—</p> +<p>Away! away! <em>ye</em> shall not stay</p> +<p class="i2">When all my joys are “up the spout!”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I little knew when first ye threw</p> +<p class="i2">Your bright’ning beams on coming hours,</p> +<p>That time would see me turn from thee,</p> +<p class="i2">And fly your sweet delusive powers.</p> +<p>Now, nerved to woe, no more I’ll know</p> +<p class="i2">How hope deferr’d makes mortal sick;</p> +<p>The gathering storm may whelm my form,</p> +<p class="i2">But I will suffer “like a brick!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>LAURIE’S RAILLERY.</h3> +<p>When Sir Peter Laurie had taken his seat the other morning in +that Temple of Momus, the Guildhall Justice Room, he was thus +addressed by Payne, the clerk—“I see, Sir Peter, an +advertisement in the <em>Times</em>, announcing the sale of shares +in the railroad from Paris to ROUEN; would you advise me to invest +a little loose cash in that speculation?” “Certainly +not,” replied the Knight, “nor in any other +railway,—depend upon it, they all lead to the same terminus, +RUIN.” Payne, having exclaimed that this was the best thing +he had ever heard, was presented by our own Alderman with a +shilling, accompanied with a request that he would get his hair +cropped to the magisterial standard.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A MEETING OF OLD ACQUAINTANCES.</h3> +<p>At the sale of the library of the late Theodore Hook, a curious +copy of “The Complete Jester” was knocked down to +“our own” Colonel. Delighted with his prize, he ran +home, intending to lay in a fresh stock of <em>bons mots</em>; but +what was his amazement on finding that all the jokes contained in +the volume were those with which he has been in the habit of +entertaining the public these last forty years! Sibby declares that +the sight of so many old friends actually brought the tears into +his eyes.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>PUNCH’S THEATRE.</h2> +<h3>LOVE EXTEMPORE.</h3> +<p>As the hero of a romantic play is obliged to possess all the +cardinal virtues and all the intellectual accomplishments, so the +hero of a farce is bound to be a fool. One of the greatest, and at +the same time one of the best fools it has been our pleasure to be +introduced to for some time is <em>Mr. Titus Livingstone</em>, in +the new farce of “Love Extempore.”</p> +<p><em>Mr. Titus Livingstone</em> possesses an excellent heart, a +good fortune, and an uncommon stock of modesty. His intellects are, +however, far from brilliant; indeed, but for one trait in his +character he would pass for an idiot,—he has had the good +sense never as yet to fall in love! In fact, the farce is founded +upon that identical incident of his life which occasioned him to +suppose that he had taken the tender passion extempore.</p> +<p>Some sort of villany seems absolutely necessary to every species +of play. To continue the parallel we commenced with between tragedy +and farce, we observe that in the former he is usually such a +person as <em>Spinola</em>, in “Nina Sforza,” whilst a +farce-villain turns out to be in most instances an intriguing +widow, a lawyer, or a mischievous young lady. The rogue in +“Love Extempore” is <em>Mrs. Courtnay</em>, a widow, +who, with the assistance of <em>Sir Harry Nugent</em>, contrives a +plot by which the hitherto insensible <em>Livingstone</em> shall +fall a victim to love and her friend <em>Prudence Oldstock</em>; +with whose mother and sister the widow and her co-intriguant are +staying on a visit.</p> +<p>The moment fatal to Livingstone’s virgin heart and +unrestrained liberty arrives. He calls to pay a morning visit, and +instantly the deep design is put into execution. <em>Sir Harry</em> +begins by a most extravagant puff preliminary of the talents, +accomplishments, virtues, beauty, disposition, endowments, and +graces belonging to the enchanting <em>Prudence</em>. He and the +widow exhibit her drawings,—<em>Livingstone</em> is in +raptures, or pretends to be (for he is not an ill-bred man). What a +piercing expression flashes from those studies of eyes (in chalk)! +what an artistical grouping of legs! what a +Saracen’s-head-upon-Snow-hill-like ferocity frowns from that +Indian chief!</p> +<p>At this juncture the captivating artist is herself introduced. +<em>Mr. Livingstone’s</em> modesty strikes him into a heap of +confusion. “He sighs and looks, and looks and sighs +again,”—he does not know “what to say, or how to +say it; so that the trembling bachelor may become a wise and good +lover.” He stutters and hems in the utmost distress; to +increase which, all his tormentors turn up the stage, leaving him +to entertain the lady alone. The sketches naturally suggest a +topic, and, plunging <em>in medias res</em> at once, he vehemently +praises her legs! The lady is astonished, and the mamma alarmed; +but having explained that the allusion was to the drawings, he is +afterwards punished for the blunder by being threatened with a +song. Though at a loss to find out what he has done to deserve such +an infliction, he submits; for he is very sleepy, and sinks into a +chair in an attitude of supposed attention, but really in a posture +best adapted for a nap. When the song is ended the applause of +course comes in; this awakens <em>Livingstone</em> in a fright; he +starts, and throws down a harp in his fall.</p> +<p>After this <em>contretemps</em>, the villany of the widow and +her ally takes a different turn. In a love affair there are +generally two parties; and <em>Miss Prudence</em> has got to be +persuaded that <em>she</em> is in love. This it is not difficult to +accomplish, she being no more overburdened with penetration than +the gentleman they are so kind as to say she is in love with. So +far all goes on well: for she is soon convinced that she is +enamoured to the last extremity.</p> +<p><em>Livingstone</em> having a sort of glimmering that the danger +so long averted at length impends over him—that he is falling +into the trap of love, with every chance of the fall continuing +down to the bottomless pit of matrimony, determines to avert the +catastrophe by flight. The pair of villains, however, set up a cry +of “Stop thief,” and he is brought back. <em>Sir +Harry</em> appeals to his feelings. Good gracious! is he so base, +so dishonourable, so heartless, to rob an innocent, unsuspecting, +and accomplished girl of her heart, and then wickedly desert her! +Oh, no! In short, having already persuaded the poor man that he is +in love, <em>Sir Harry</em> convinces him that he would also be a +deceiver; and <em>Livingstone</em> would have returned like a lamb +to the slaughter but for a new incident.</p> +<p>He has an uncle who is engaged in a law-suit with some of +<em>Mrs. Courtnay’s</em> family. To bring this litigation to +an amicable end it has been proposed that <em>Livingstone</em> +should marry the widow’s sister. Here is a discovery! So, the +deep widow has been unwittingly plotting against her own sister! +Things must be altered; and so they are, in no time, for she +persuades the easy hero that <em>Nugent</em> is in love with +<em>Prudence</em> himself; but, finding she adores her new lover, +has magnanimously given up his claims in his favour. This has the +desired effect, for <em>Livingstone</em> will have no such noble +sacrifice made on his account. He seeks <em>Sir Harry</em>; who, +discovering the double design of the profound widow, talks as +immensely magnanimous as they do in classic dramas. In short, both +play at Romans till the end of the piece; the hero and heroine +being at last fully persuaded that they have each really fallen in +“Love Extempore!”</p> +<p>This idea of persuading two persons into the bonds of +love—of having all the courting done at second-hand, is +admirably worked out. <em>Livingstone</em> is a well-drawn +character; so well, so naturally painted, that he hardly deserves +to be the hero of a farce. Although exceedingly soft, he is a +well-bred fool—though somewhat fat (for the actor is Mr. +David Rees); he is not altogether inelegant. The gentleman who does +the theatrical metaphysics in the <em>Morning Herald</em> has +described him as a capital specimen of “physical obesity and +moral teunity,”<sup>3</sup><span class="sidenote">3. +<em>Sic</em>, actually, in the dramatic article of that paper, +Wednesday, 24th ult.</span> —which we quote to save ourselves +trouble, for the force of description can no further go. +<em>Prudence</em> is also inimitable—a march-of-intellect +young lady without brains, who knows the names of the five large +rivers in America, and how many bones there are in the gills of a +turbot. In Miss P. Horton’s hands her mechanical acquirements +were done ample justice to. The cold unmeaning love scene was +rendered mainly by her acting</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/021-12.png"><img src= +"images/021-12.png" alt= +"A man has fallen through ice and stands to his waist in water." +id="img021-12" name="img021-12" width="50%" /></a> +<p>A N-ICE SITUATION.</p> +</div> +<p>In fine, the farce is altogether a leaven of the best material +most cleverly worked up.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A PERFECT VACUUM PROVED.</h3> +<p>MR. HALSE, the gentleman who has during the last week been +lecturing upon Animal Magnetism, having stated that one of his +patients, while under the magnetic influence, could “see her +own inside,” the Marquis of Londonderry, anxious to test the +truth of the assertion, requested the lecturer to operate upon him, +and being thrown into the Mesmeric sleep, looked into the inside of +his own head, and declared he could see nothing in it.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A CON BY O’CONNER.</h3> +<p>Why ought the Children of a Thief to be burnt?—Because +<em>their Pa steals</em> (they’re pastiles).</p> +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +1, December 4, 1841, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 14939-h.htm or 14939-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/9/3/14939/ + +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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