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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:45:41 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:45:41 -0700 |
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diff --git a/14940-h/14940-h.htm b/14940-h/14940-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2674c69 --- /dev/null +++ b/14940-h/14940-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2108 @@ +<!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 11, 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 11, 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 11, 1841 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 7, 2005 [EBook #14940] + +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 11, 1841.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page253" name="page253"></a>[pg +253]</span> +<h2>THE PHYSIOLOGY OF THE LONDON MEDICAL STUDENT.</h2> +<h3>11.—HOW MR. MUFF CONCLUDES HIS EVENING.</h3> +<div class="dropcap"><a href="images/022-01.png"><img src= +"images/022-01.png" alt= +"A fellow forms a letter E with a bag and a string." id="img022-01" +name="img022-01" width="100%" /></a></div> +<p><span class="hide">E</span>ssential as sulphuric acid is to the +ignition of the platinum in an hydropneumatic lamp; so is +half-and-half to the proper illumination of a Medical +Student’s faculties. The Royal College of Surgeons may +thunder and the lecturers may threaten, but all to no effect; for, +like the slippers in the Eastern story, however often the pots may +be ordered away from the dissecting-room, somehow or other they +always find their way back again with unflinching pertinacity. All +the world inclined towards beer knows that the current price of a +pot of half-and-half is fivepence, and by this standard the Medical +Student fixes his expenses. He says he has given three pots for a +pair of Berlin gloves, and speaks of a half-crown as a six-pot +piece.</p> +<p>Mr. Muff takes the goodly measure in his hand, and decapitating +its “spuma” with his pipe, from which he flings it into +Mr. Simpson’s face, indulges in a prolonged drain, and +commences his narrative—most probably in the following +manner:—</p> +<p>“You know we should all have got on very well if Rapp +hadn’t been such a fool as to pull away the lanthorns from +the place where they are putting down the wood pavement in the +Strand, and swear he was a watchman. I thought the crusher saw us, +and so I got ready for a bolt, when Manhug said the blocks had no +right to obstruct the footpath; and, shoving down a whole wall of +them into the street, voted for stopping to play at <em>duck</em> +with them. Whilst he was trying how many he could pitch across the +Strand against the shutters opposite, down came the +<em>pewlice</em> and off we cut.”</p> +<p>“I had a tight squeak for it,” interrupts Mr. Rapp; +“but I beat them at last, in the dark of the Durham-street +arch. That’s a dodge worth being up to when you get into a +row near the Adelphi. Fire away, Muff—where did you +go?”</p> +<p>“Right up a court to Maiden-lane, in the hope of bolting +into the Cider-cellars. But they were all shut up, and the fire out +in the kitchen, so I ran on through a lot of alleys and back-slums, +until I got somewhere in St. Giles’s, and here I took a +cab.”</p> +<p>“Why, you hadn’t got an atom of tin when you left +us,” says Mr. Manhug.</p> +<p>“Devil a bit did that signify. You know I only took the +<em>cab</em>—I’d nothing at all to do with the driver; +he was all right in the gin-shop near the stand, I suppose. I got +on the box, and drove about for my own diversion—I +don’t exactly know where; but I couldn’t leave the cab, +as there was always a crusher in the way when I stopped. At last I +found myself at the large gate of New Square, Lincoln’s Inn, +so I knocked until the porter opened it, and drove in as straight +as I could. When I got to the corner of the square, by No. 7, I +pulled up, and, tumbling off my perch, walked quietly along to the +Portugal-street wicket. Here the other porter let me out, and I +found myself in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.”</p> +<p>“And what became of the cab?” asks Mr. Jones.</p> +<p>“How should I know!—it was no affair of mine. I dare +say the horse made it right; it didn’t matter to him whether +he was standing in St. Giles’s or Lincoln’s Inn, only +the last was the most respectable.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see that,” says Mr. Manhug, refilling +his pipe.</p> +<p>“Why, all the thieves in London live in St. +Giles’s.”</p> +<p>“Well, and who live in Lincoln’s Inn?”</p> +<p>“Pshaw! that’s all worn out,” continues +Manhug. “I got to the College of Surgeons, and had a good +mind to scud some oyster shells through the windows, only there +were several people about—fellows coming home to chambers, +and the like; so I pattered on until I found myself in Drury-lane, +close to a coffee-shop that was open. There I saw such a jolly +row!”</p> +<p>Mr. Muff utters this last sentence in the same ecstatic accents +of admiration with which we speak of a lovely woman or a +magnificent view.</p> +<p>“What was it about?” eagerly demand the rest of the +circle.</p> +<p>“Why, just as I got in, a gentleman of a vivacious turn of +mind, who was taking an early breakfast, had shied a soft-boiled +egg at the gas-light, which didn’t hit it, of course, but +flew across the tops of the boxes, and broke upon a lady’s +head.”</p> +<p>“What a mess it must have made?” interposes Mr. +Manhug. “Coffee-shop eggs are always so very +albuminous.”</p> +<p>“Once I found some feathers in one, and a fœtal +chick,” observes Mr. Rapp.</p> +<p>“Knock that down for a good one!” says Mr. Jones, +taking the poker and striking three distinct blows on the +mantel-piece, the last of which breaks off the corner. “Well, +what did the lady do?”</p> +<p>“Commenced kicking up an extensive shindy, something +between crying, coughing, and abusing, until somebody in a fustian +coat, addressing the assailant, said, ‘he was no gentleman, +whoever he was, to throw eggs at a woman; and that if he’d +come out he’d pretty soon butter his crumpets on both sides +for him, and give him pepper for nothing.’ The master of the +coffee shop now came forward and said, ‘he wasn’t a +going to have no uproar in his house, which was very respectable, +and always used by the first of company, and if they wanted to +quarrel, they might fight it out in the streets.’ Whereupon +they all began to barge the master at once,—one saying +‘his coffee was all snuff and duckweed,’ or something +of the kind; whilst the other told him ‘he looked as measly +as a mouldy muffin;’ and then all of a sudden a lot of +half-pint cups and pewter spoons flew up in the air, and the three +men began an indiscriminate battle all to themselves, in one of the +boxes, ‘fighting quite permiscus,’ as the lady properly +observed. I think the landlord was worst off though; he got a very +queer wipe across the face from the handle of his own +toasting-fork.”</p> +<p>“And what did you do, Muff?” asks Mr. Manhug.</p> +<p>“Ah, that was the finishing card of all. I put the gas +out, and was walking off as quietly as could be, when some +policemen who heard the row outside met me at the door, and +wouldn’t let me pass. I said I would, and they said I should +not, until we came to scuffling, and then one of them calling to +some more, told them to take me to Bow-street, which they did; but +I made them carry me though. When I got into the office they had +not any especial charge to make against me, and the old bird behind +the partition said I might go about my business; but, as ill luck +would have it, another of the unboiled ones recognised me as one of +the party who had upset the wooden blocks—he knew me again by +my d—d Taglioni.”</p> +<p>“And what did they do to you?”</p> +<p>“Marched me across the yard and locked me up; when to my +great consolation in my affliction, I found Simpson, crying and +twisting up his pocket-handkerchief, as if he was wringing it; and +hoping his friends would not hear of his disgrace through the +<em>Times</em>.”</p> +<p>“What a love you are, Simpson!” observes Mr. Jones +patronisingly. “Why, how the deuce could they, if you gave a +proper name? I hope you called yourself James Edwards.”</p> +<p>Mr. Simpson blushes, blows his nose, mutters something about his +card-case and telling an untruth, which excites much merriment; and +Mr. Muff proceeds:—</p> +<p>“The beak wasn’t such a bad fellow after all, when +we went up in the morning. I said I was ashamed to confess we were +both disgracefully intoxicated, and that I would take great care +nothing of the same humiliating nature should occur again; +whereupon we were fined twelve pots each, and I tossed sudden death +with Simpson which should pay both. He lost and paid down the dibs. +We came away, and here we are.”</p> +<p>The mirth proceeds, and, ere long, gives place to harmony; and +when the cookery is finished, the bird is speedily converted into +an anatomical preparation,—albeit her interarticular +cartilages are somewhat tough, and her lateral ligaments apparently +composed of a substance between leather and caoutchouc. As +afternoon advances, the porter of the dissecting-room finds them +performing an incantation dance round Mr. Muff, who, seated on a +stool placed upon two of the tressels, is rattling some halfpence +in a skull, accompanied by Mr. Rapp, who is performing a difficult +concerto on an extempore instrument of his own invention, composed +of the Scotchman’s hat, who is still grinding in the Museum, +and the identical thigh-bone that assisted to hang Mr. Muff’s +patriarchal old hen!</p> +<hr /> +<h3>SIGNS OF THE TIMES.</h3> +<p>“The times are hard,” say the knowing ones. +“Hard” indeed they must be when we find a DOCTOR +advertising for a situation as WET-NURSE. The following appeared in +the <em>Times</em> of Wednesday last, under the head of “Want +Places.” “As wet-nurse, a respectable person. Direct to +DOCTOR P——, C—— Common, Surrey.” What +next?</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page254" name="page254"></a>[pg +254]</span> +<h2>THE “PUFF PAPERS.”</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> +<h3>The Giant’s Stairs.</h3> +<h4>(CONTINUED.)</h4> +<p>“‘Well,’ says he, ‘you’re a match +for me any day; and sooner than be shut up again in this dismal +ould box, I’ll give you what you ask for my liberty. And the +three best gifts I possess are, this brown cap, which while you +wear it will render you invisible to the fairies, while they are +all visible to you; this box of salve, by rubbing some of which to +your lips, you will have the power of commanding every fairy and +spirit in the world to obey your will; and, lastly, this little +<em>kippeen</em><sup>1</sup><span class="sidenote">1. A little +stick.</span>, which at your word may be transformed into any mode +of conveyance you wish. Besides all this, you shall come with me to +my palace, where all the treasures of the earth shall be at your +disposal. But mind, I give you this caution, that if you ever +permit the brown cap or the <em>kippeen</em> to be out of your +possession for an instant, you’ll lose them for ever; and if +you suffer any person to touch your lips while you remain in the +underground kingdom, you will instantly become visible, and your +power over the fairies will be at an end.’</p> +<p>“‘Well,’ thinks I, ‘there’s +nothing so very difficult in <em>that</em>.’ So having got +the cap, the <em>kippeen</em>, and the box of salve, into my +possession, I opened the box, and out jumped the little fellow.</p> +<p>“‘Now, Felix,’ says he, ‘touch your lips +with the salve, for we are just at the entrance of my +dominions.’</p> +<p>“I did as he desired me, and, <em>Dharra Dhie!</em> if the +little chap wasn’t changed into a big black-looking giant, +sitting afore my eyes on a great rock.</p> +<p>“‘Lord save us!’ says I to myself, +‘it’s a marcy and a wondher how he ever squeezed +himself into that weeshy box.’ ‘Why thin, Sir,’ +says I to him, ‘maybe your honour would have the civilitude +to tell me your name.’</p> +<p>“‘With the greatest of pleasure, Felix,’ says +he smiling; ‘I’m called Mahoon, the Giant.’</p> +<p>“‘Tare an’ agers! are you though? Well, if I +thought’—but he gave me no time to think; for calling +on me to follow him, he began climbing up the <em>Giant’s +Stairs</em> as asy as I’d walk up a ladder to the hay-loft. +Well, he was at the top afore you could cry +‘trapstick,’ and it wasn’t long till I was at the +top too, and there we found a gate opening into the hill, and a +power of lords and ladies waiting to resave Mahoon, who I larned +was their king, and who had been away from his kingdom for twenty +years, by rason of his being shut up in the box by some great +fairy-man.</p> +<p>“Well, when we got inside the gates, I found myself in a +most beautiful city, where nobody seemed to mind anything but +diversion. The music was the most illigant thing you ever hard in +your born days, and there wasn’t one less than forty Munster +pipers playing before King Mahoon and his friends, as they marched +along through great broad streets,—a thousand times finer +than Great George’s-street, in Cork; for, my dears, there was +nothing to be seen but goold, and jewels, and guineas, lying like +sand under our feet. As I had the little brown cap upon my head, I +knew that none of the fairy people could see me, so I walked up +cheek by jowl with King Mahoon himself, who winked at me to keep my +toe in my brogue, which you may be sure I did, and so we kept on +until we came to the king’s palace. If other places were +grand, this was ten times grander, for the very sight was fairly +taken out of my eyes with the dazzling light that shone round about +it. In we went into the palace, through two rows of most engaging +and beautiful young ladies; and then King Mahoon took his sate upon +his throne, and put upon his head a crown of goold, stuck all over +with di’monds, every one of them bigger than a sheep’s +heart. Of coorse there was a dale of compliments past amongst the +lords and ladies till they got tired of them; and then they sat +down to dinner, and, <em>nabocklish!</em> wasn’t there rale +givings-out there, with <em>cead mille +phailtagh</em><sup>2</sup><span class="sidenote">2. A hundred +thousand welcomes.</span>. The whiskey was sarved out in tubs and +buckets, for they’d scorn to drink ale or porter; and as for +the ating, there was laygions of fat bacon and cabbage for the +sarvants, and a throop of legs of mutton for the king and his +coort. Well, after we had all ate till we could hould no more, the +king called out to clear the flure for a dance. No sooner had he +said the word, than the tables were all whipped away,—the +pipers began to tune their chaunters. The king’s son opened +the ball with a mighty beautiful young crather; but the mirinit I +laid my eyes upon her I knew her at once for a neighbour’s +daughter, one Anty Dooley, who had died a few months before, and +who, when she was alive, could beat the whole county round at any +sort of reel, jig, or hornpipe. The music struck up ‘Tatter +Jack Walsh,’ and maybe it’s she that didn’t set, +and turn, and <em>thrush</em> the boords, until the young prince +hadn’t as much breath left in his body as would blow out a +rushlight, and he was forced to sit down puffing and panting, and +laving his partner standing in the middle of the room. I +couldn’t stand that by no means; so jumping upon the flure +with a shilloo, I flung my cap into the air:—the music +stopped of a sudden, and I then recollected that, by throwing off +the cap, I had become visible, and had lost one of Mahoon’s +three gifts.</p> +<p>“Divil may care! as Punch said when he missed mass; +I’ll have my dance out at any rate, so rouse up ‘The +Rakes of Mallow,’ my beauties. So to it we set; and when the +<em>cailleen</em> was getting tired well becomes myself, but I +threw my arm around her slindher waist and took such a smack of her +sweet lips, that the hall resounded with the report.</p> +<p>“‘Fetch me a glass of the best,’ says I to a +little fellow who was hopping about with a tray full of all sorts +of dhrink.</p> +<p>“‘Fetch it yourself, Felix Donovan. Who’s your +sarvant now?’ says the chap, docking up his chin as impident +as a tinker’s dog. I felt my fingers itching to give the +fellow a <em>polthogue</em><sup>3</sup><span class="sidenote">3. A +thump.</span> in the ear; but I thought I might as well keep myself +paceable in a strange place—so I only gave him a contemptible +look, and turned my back upon him.</p> +<p>“‘Felix jewel!’ whispered Anty in my ear. +‘You’ve lost your power over the fairies by that +misfortunate kiss—’</p> +<p>”’<em>Diaoul!</em>—there’s two of +Mahoon’s gifts gone already,’ thinks I,</p> +<p>“‘If you’ll take my advice,’ says Anty, +‘you’ll be off out of this as fast as you +can.”</p> +<p>“‘The sorra foot I’ll stir out of this,’ +says I ‘unless you come along with me <em>ma callieen +dhas</em><sup>4</sup><span class="sidenote">4. My pretty +girl.</span>—’</p> +<p>“I wish you could have seen the deluding look she gave me +as leaning her head upon my shoulder she whispered to me in a voice +sweeter than music of a dream,</p> +<p>“‘Felix dear! I’ll go with you all the world +over, and the sooner we take to the road the better. Steal you out +of the door, and I’ll follow you in a few minutes.’</p> +<p>“Accordingly I sneaked away as quietly as I could; they +were all too busy with their divarsions to mind me—and at the +door I met Anty with her apron full of goold and diamonds.</p> +<p>“‘Now,’ said she, ‘where’s the +<em>kippeen</em> Mahoon gave you?’</p> +<p>“‘Here it is safe enough,’ I answered, pulling +it out of my breeches pocket.</p> +<p>“‘Well, now tell it to become a +coach-and-four.’</p> +<p>“I did as she desired me—and in a moment there was a +grand coach and four prancing horses before us. You may be sure we +did not stand admiring very long, but both stepped in, and away we +drove like the wind,—until we came to a high wall; so high +that it tired me to look to the top of it.</p> +<p>“‘Step out, now,’ says she, ‘but mind +not to let go your held of the coach, and tell it to change itself +into a ladder.’</p> +<p>“I had my lesson now; the coach became a ladder, reaching +to the top of the wall; so up we mounted, and descended on the +other side by the same means. There was then before us a terrible +dark gulf over which hung such a thick fog that a priest +couldn’t see to bless himself in it.</p> +<p>“‘Call for a winged horse,’ whispered +Anty.</p> +<p>“I did so, and up came a fine black horse, with a pair of +great wings growing out of his back, and ready bridled and saddled +to our hand. I jumped upon his back, and took Anty up before me; +when, spreading out his wings, he flew—flew, without ever +stopping until he landed us safe on the opposite shore. We were now +on the banks of a broad river.</p> +<p>“‘This,’ said Anty, ‘is our last +difficulty.’</p> +<p>“The horse was changed into a boat, and away we sailed +with a fair breeze for the opposite shore, which, as we approached, +appeared more beautiful than any country I had ever seen. The shore +was crowded with young people dancing, singing, and beckoning us to +approach. The boat touched the land; I thought all my troubles were +past, and in the joy of my heart I leaped ashore, leaving Anty in +the boat; but no sooner had my foot parted from the gunwale than +the boat shot like an arrow from the bank, and drifted down the +current. I saw my young bride wringing her fair hands, weeping at +if her heart would break, and crying—</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page255" name="page255"></a>[pg +255]</span> +<p>“‘Why did you quit the boat so soon, Felix? Alas, +alas! we shall never meet again!’ and then with a wild and +melancholy scream she vanished from my sight. A dizziness came over +my senses, I fell upon the ground in a dead faint, and when I came +to myself—I found myself all alone in my boat, with three +tundhering big conger-eels fast upon my lines. And now, neighbours, +you have all my story about the <em>Giant’s +Stairs</em>.”</p> +<hr /> +<h3>DRAW IT GENTLY.</h3> +<p>Joseph Hume’s attention having been drawn to the great +insecurity of letter envelopes, as they are now constructed, has +submitted to the Post-master-General a specimen of a new safety +envelope. He states that the invention is entirely his own, and +that he has applied the principle with extraordinary success in the +case of his own breeches-pocket, from which he defies the most +“artful dodger” in the world to extract anything. We +can add our testimony to the <em>un-for-giving</em> property of +Joe’s monetary receptacle, and we trust that his excellent +plan may be instantly adopted. At present there is immense risk in +sending inclosures through the Post-office; for all the +letter-carriers are aware that there is nothing easier than</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/022-02.png"><img src= +"images/022-02.png" alt= +"Someone reaches through a window to take a sleeper's bedclothes." +id="img022-02" name="img022-02" width="70%" /></a> +<p>DRAWING A COVER.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>FASHIONABLE MOVEMENTS.</h3> +<p>Yesterday Paddy Green, Esquire, called at “The Great +Mogul,” where he played two games at bagatelle, and went +“Yorkshire” for a pot of dog’s nose. He smoked a +short pipe home.</p> +<p>On Tuesday Charles Mears, I.M., accompanied by Jeremiah Donovan, +called at the residence of Paddy Green, Esquire, in Vere-street, to +inquire after the health of Master P. Green.</p> +<p>Master James Marc Anthony George Finch has succeeded Bill +Jenkins as errand-boy at the butter-shop in Great Wild-street. This +change had long been expected in the neighbourhood.</p> +<p>On Friday Paddy Green, Esquire, did not rise till the evening. A +slight disposition to the prevailing epidemic, influenza, is stated +to be the cause. He drank copiously of rum-and-water with a piece +of butter in it.</p> +<p>On Thursday last the lady of Paddy Green, personally attended to +the laundry; a fortnight’s wash took place, when Mrs. Briggs, +the charwoman, was in waiting. Mrs. P. Green, with her accustomed +liberality, sent out for a quartern of gin and a quarter of an +ounce of brown rappee.</p> +<p>Charles Mears, I.M., and Jeremiah Donovan yesterday took a short +walk and a short pipe together.</p> +<p>It is confidently reported that at the close of the present +Covent-Garden season that Mr. Ossian Sniggers will retire from the +stage, of which he has been so long a distinguished ornament. We +have it from the best authority that he purposes going into the +retail coal and tater line.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>LINES ON MISS ADELAIDE KEMBLE.</h3> +<p class="cen"><em>By Sir Lumley Skeffington, Bart.</em></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><em>Supercelestial</em> is the art she practises,</p> +<p>Transcending far all other living actresses;</p> +<p>Her father’s talent—mother’s +grace—compose</p> +<p>This Stephen’s figure, with John’s Roman nose.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>PUNCH’S LETTER-WRITER.</h3> +<p>DEAR PUNCH! VENERABLE NOSEY!</p> +<p>By the bye, was Publius Ovidius <em>Nuso</em> an ancestor of +yours? Talking of ancestors, why do the Ayrshire folks speak of +theirs as <em>four bears</em> (forbears), it sounds very ursine. +But to our <em>muttons</em>, as my old French master used to call +it. Do you do anything in the classico-historical line, for the +Charivaresque enlightenment of the British public; if so, here is a +specimen of a work in that style, “done out of the +original:”—</p> +<h4>THE DEATH OF CÆSAR:</h4> +<h5>A TOUCH OF THE CLASSICAL IN THE VULGAR TONGUE.</h5> +<p>When he beheld the hand of him he had so loved raised against +him, Cæsar’s heart was filled with anguish, and +uttering the deep reproach—“And thou, too, +Brutus!” he shrouded his face in his mantle, and fell at the +foot of Pompey’s statue, covered with wounds. Thus, in the +zenith of his glory, perished Caius Julius Cæsar, the +conqueror of the world, and the eloquent historian of his own +exploits; spiflicatus est (says my original), he was done for: he +got his gruel, and inserted his pewter in the stucco, B.C. 44.</p> +<p>Perhaps you may not receive the above; but “sticking his +spoon in the wall” reminds me of a hint I have to offer you. +Did you ever see any Apostle spoons—old things with saints +carved on their handles, which used to be presented, at +christenings, &c. Now I think you might make your fortune with +His Royal Highness of Cornwall, on the occasion of his christening, +by getting together a set of spoons to present to him; and I would +suggest your selection of the most notorious <em>spoons</em>, such +as the delectable Saddler Knight, Peter Borthwick, Calculating +Joey, <em>the</em> Colonel, Ben D’Israeli, &c. You might +even class them, putting Sir Andrew Agnew in as a grave(y) spoon; a +teetotal chief as a <em>tea</em> spoon; Wakley, being a +<em>deserter</em>, as a <em>dessert</em> spoon; D’Israeli, +being so amazingly soft, as a <em>pap</em> spoon, &c. &c. +Send them with Punch’s dutiful congratulations, and you will +infallibly get knighted; but don’t take a baronetcy, my +respectable friend, for I hear that, like my friend Sir Moses, you +are inclined to Judyism (Judaism)<sup>5</sup><span class= +"sidenote">5. Have I “seen that line before?”</span>. +May the shadow of your nose never be less; and Heaven send that you +may take this up after dinner! Farewell!</p> +<p class="rgt">POLICHINICULUS.</p> +<p>*∗* Polichiniculus is a lucky fellow! We opened his +letter after the pleasant discussion of a boiled +chicken.—<em>Ed. of “Punch.”</em></p> +<hr /> +<h3>CUPID’S BOW.</h3> +<p>SIR JAMES GRAHAM was conversing the other day with +D’Israeli on what he designated “the <em>crooked</em> +policy of Lord Palmerston.”</p> +<p>“What could you expect but a <em>warped +understanding</em>,” replied the Hebrew Adonis, “from +such</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/022-03.png"><img src= +"images/022-03.png" alt="A man tips his hat." id="img022-03" name= +"img022-03" width="20%" /></a> +<p>A PERFECT BEAU—(BOW).”</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>CERTAINLY NOT “BETTER LATE THAN NEVER.”</h3> +<p>SIR FIGARO LAURIE was condoling with Hobler on the loss of the +baronetcy by the late Lord Mayor.</p> +<p>Hobler replied that the loss of the title was not by the late +Lord Mayor but by the <em>late</em> Prince of Wales. But, as he +sagely added,</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/022-04.png"><img src= +"images/022-04.png" alt= +"An artist sits at a fire while a cat runs away with a fish." id= +"img022-04" name="img022-04" width="50%" /></a> +<p>THERE’S MANY A SLIP, &c.</p> +</div> +<p>Sir Peter has placed Hobler on Truefitt’s free list.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page256" name="page256"></a>[pg +256]</span> +<h3>A SLIGHT CONTRAST!</h3> +<h5>“LOOK ON THIS PICTURE AND ON THIS!”</h5> +<h4>THE COUNTERFEIT PRESENTMENT OF</h4> +<h4>PRINCE ALBERT’S HOUNDS AND THE POOR IN THE SEVENOAKS +UNION.</h4> +<p>The <em>sleeping-beds</em> which are occupied by the +prince’s beagles and her Majesty’s <em>dogs</em> are IN +FIVE COMPARTMENTS AT THE EXTREMITY OF THE HOVELS—THE LATTER +BEING WELL SUPPLIED WITH WATER AND PAVED WITH ASPHALTE, THE BOTTOMS +HAVING GOOD PALLS, TO ENSURE THEIR DRYNESS AND CLEANLINESS. The +hovels enter into three green yards, roomy and healthy. In the one +at the near end a rustic ornamental seat has been erected, from +which her Majesty and the prince are accustomed to inspect their +favourites.</p> +<p>The boiling and distemper houses are now in course of erection, +BUT DETACHED FROM THE OTHER PORTION OP THE BUILDING!—<em>From +the Sporting Magazine, extracted in the Times of Dec. 3, +1841.</em></p> +<p>“I KNOW the lying-in ward; there is but ONE, which is +small: another room is used when required. There are two beds in +the first. The walls, I should say, were clean; but at that time +they could not he cleansed, as it was full of women. The room was +very smoky and uncomfortable; the walls were as clean as they could +be under the circumstances. I have always felt dissatisfied with +the ward, and many times said it was the most uncomfortable place +in the house; it always looked dirty….</p> +<p>“There have been six women there at one time: two were +confined in one bed….</p> +<p>“It was impossible entirely to shut out the infection. I +have known FIFTEEN CHILDREN SLEEP in two +beds!”—<em>From the sworn evidence of Mrs. Elizabeth +Gain, late matron, and Mr. Adams, late medical attendant, at the +Sevenoaks Union—extracted from the Times of Dec. 2, +1841.</em></p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>ON SNUFF, AND THE DIFFERENT WAYS OF <em>TAKING</em> IT.</h2> +<p>Snuff is a sort of freemasonry amongst those who partake of +it.</p> +<p>Those who do not partake of it cannot possibly understand those +who do. It is just the same as music to the deaf—dancing to +the lame—or painting to the blind.</p> +<p>Snuff-takers will assure you that there are as many different +types of snuff-takers as there are different types of women in a +church or in a theatre, or different species of roses in the +flower-bed of an horticulturist.</p> +<p>But the section of snuff-takers has, in common with all social +categories, its apostates, its false brethren.</p> +<p>For as sure as you carry about with you a snuff-box, of copper, +of tortoise-shell, or of horn (the material matters absolutely +nothing), you cannot fail to have met upon your path the man who +carries no snuff-box, and yet is continually taking snuff.</p> +<p>The man who carries no snuff-box is an intimate nuisance—a +hand-in-hand annoyance—a sort of authorised Jeremy Diddler to +all snuff-takers.</p> +<p>He meets you everywhere. The first question he puts is not how +“you do?” he assails you instantly with “Have you +such a thing as a pinch of snuff about you?”</p> +<p>It is absolutely as if he said, “I have no snuff myself, +but I know <em>you</em> have—and you cannot refuse me levying +a small contribution upon it.”</p> +<p>If it were only <em>one</em> pinch; but it is two—it is +four—it is eight; it is all the week—all the +month—it is all year round. The man who carries no snuff box +is a regular Captain Macheath—a licensed Paul +Clifford—to everyone that does. He meets you on the highway, +and summonses you to stop by demanding “Your snuff-box or +your life?”</p> +<p>A man can easily refuse to his most intimate friend his purse, +or his razor, or his wife, or his horse; but with what decency can +he refuse him—or to his coolest acquaintance even—a +pinch of snuff? It is in this that the evil <em>pinches</em>.</p> +<p>The snuff-taker who carries no snuff-box is aware of +this—and woe to the box into which his fingers gain admission +to levy the pinch his nose distrains upon.</p> +<p>There is no man who has the trick so aptly at his fingers’ +ends of absorbing so much in one given pinch, as the man who +carries no snuff box. The quantity he takes proves he is not given +to <em>samples</em>.</p> +<p>Properly speaking he is the landlord of all the boxes in the +kingdom. Those who carry snuff-boxes are only his tenants; and hold +them merely by virtue of a <em>rack-rent</em>, under him.</p> +<p>He is a perpetual plunderer—a petty purloiner—a +pinching petitioner <em>in forma pauperis</em>—a contraband +dealer in snuff. However, he is in general noted for his social +qualities. He is affable, mild, harmless, insinuating, yielding, +and submissive. He never fails to compliment you upon your good +looks, and wonders in deep interest where you buy such excellent +snuff. He agrees with you that Sir Peter Laurie is the first +statesman of the day, and flies into the highest ecstacies when he +learns that it is some of George the Fourth’s sold-off stock. +He even acknowledges that Universal Suffrage is the only thing that +can save the nation, and affects to be quite astonished that he has +left his box behind him. He will beg to be remembered to your wife, +and leaves you after begging for “the favour of another +pinch.” Where is the man whose nature would not be +susceptible of a <em>pinch</em> when invoked in the name of his +wife?</p> +<p>Goldsmith recommends a pair of boots, a silver pencil, or a +horse of small value, as an infallible specific for getting rid of +a troublesome guest. He always had the satisfaction to find he +never came back to return them.</p> +<p>But with the man who carries no snuff-box this specific would +lose its infallibility. It would be folly to lend him your +snuff-box, for at this price snuff would lose all its flavour, all +its perfume for him. The best box to give him would be perhaps a +box on the ear.</p> +<p>If he were obliged to buy his own snuff, it would give him no +sensation. The strongest would not make him sneeze, or wring from +the sensibility of his eyes the smallest tribute to its pungency. +He would turn up his nose at it, or, at the best, use it as +sand-dust to receipt his washerwoman’s bills with.</p> +<p>These feelings aside, the man who carries no snuff-box is a good +member of society; that is to say, quite as good a one as the man +who does carry a snuff-box. He is in general a good friend (as long +as he has the <em>entrée</em> of your box), a good parent, a +good tenant, a good customer, a good voter, a good eater, a good +talker, and especially a good judge of snuff. He knows by one +touch, by one sniff, by one <em>coup d’œil</em>, the +good from the bad, the old from the new, the fragrant from the +filthy, the colour which is natural from the colour which is +coloured. If any one should want to lay in a stock of snuff, let +him take the man who carries no snuff with him: his <em>ipse +dixit</em> may be relied upon with every certainty. He will choose +it as if he were buying it for himself, and in return will never +forget to look upon it as a property he is entitled to fully as +much as you who have paid for it; for, in fact, would you be in +possession of the snuff if he had not chosen it for you?</p> +<p>As for his complaint, it is like hydrophilia; no remedy has as +yet been invented for it; and we can with comfortable consciences +predict that, as long as snuff is taken, and men continue to carry +it about with them in snuff-boxes, they are sure to be subject to +the importunities of the man who carries no snuff box.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>BUFFOON’S NATURAL HISTORY.</h3> +<p>SIR EDWARD LYTTON BULWER, who, like Byron, (in this one instance +only) “wanted a hero,” had the good fortune to lay his +hands upon the history of the celebrated George Barrington of +picking-pocket notoriety. That worthy, describing the progress he +made for the good of his country, related some strange particulars +of a foreign bird, called the Secretary, or Snake-eater, which Sir +Edward, from his knowledge of the natural history of his friend +John Wilson Croker, declares to be the immediate connecting link +between the English Admiralty Secretary, or +“Toad-eater.”</p> +<hr /> +<h3>“NOT EXACTLY.”</h3> +<p>“Have you been much at sea?”</p> +<p>“Why no, <em>not exactly</em>; but my brother married an +admiral’s daughter!”</p> +<p>“Were you ever abroad?”</p> +<p>“No, <em>not exactly</em>; but my mother’s maiden +name was ‘French.’”</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page257" name="page257"></a>[pg +257]</span> +<h2>FASHIONS FOR DECEMBER.</h2> +<div class="note"> +<p>[A letter has found its way into our box, which was evidently +intended for the Parisian <em>Courrier des Dames</em>; but as the +month is so far advanced, we are fearful that the communication +will be too late for the purposes of that fashionable journal. We +have therefore with unparalleled liberality inserted it in PUNCH, +and thus conferred an immortality on an ephemera! It is worthy of +remark that the writer adopts the style of our foreign fashionable +correspondents, who invariably introduce as much English as French +into their communications.]</p> +</div> +<p class="rgt"><em>Rue de Dyotte</em>,<br /> +<em>Derrière les Slommes à Saint Gilles</em>.</p> +<p>MON JOVIAL ANCIEN COQ.</p> +<p><em>Les swelles de Londres</em> have now determined upon the +winter fashions, subject only to such modifications as their +wardrobes render imperative, <em>et y vont comme des Briques</em>. +Butchers’ trays continue to be worn on the shoulders; and +sprats may be found very generally upon the heads of the +<em>poissonnières-faggeuses de la Porte de Billing</em>. +Short pipes are much patronised by architects’ assistants, +and are worn either in the hatband or the side of the mouth, <em>et +point d’erreur</em>. A few black eyes have been seen <em>dans +la Rookerie</em>; but these facial ornaments will not be general +until after boxing-day, <em>quand ils le deviendront bien +forts</em>. Highlows and anklejacks<sup>6</sup><span class= +"sidenote">6. For an elaborate description of these elegances, vide +PUNCH.<br /> +7. The <em>Fancy</em>, we presume.—<em>Printer's +Devil</em>.</span> are still patronised by <em>les +imaginaires</em><sup>7</sup> of both sexes, the only alteration in +the fashion being that the highlow is cut a little more on the +instep, and the anklejack has retrograded a trifle towards the +heel, with those <em>qui veulent le couper gras</em>. A great many +muslin caps are seen, frequently with a hole in the crown, through +which the hair protrudes, and gives a <em>très +épiceux et soufflet-haut</em> appearance. They are called +<em>les Capoles des Sept-Dialles</em>.</p> +<p>Others have no opening at the top, but two streamers of the same +material as the cap are allowed to play over the shoulders of +<em>les immenses Cartes</em>. The original colour of these +<em>capotes</em> is white; but they are only worn by <em>les +grandes Cigarres</em> when the white has been very much rubbed +off.</p> +<p>Furs are much worn, both by the male and female <em>magnifiques +poussières</em>. The latter usually carry them suspended +from their apron-strings, and appear to give the preference to hare +and rabbit <em>mantelets</em>, though sometimes domestic felines +are denuded for the same purpose, <em>que puisse m’aider, +pomme-de-terre</em>. The gentlemen, on the other hand, carry their +furs at the end of a long pole, and towards Saturday-night a great +number <em>de petits pots</em><sup>8</sup><span class="sidenote">8. +Query mugs—<em>Anglicè</em> +faces?—<em>Printer’s Devil</em>.</span> may be seen +enveloped in this costly <em>matériel</em>. The fantails of +the <em>chapeaux d’Adelphi</em> are spread rather broader +over the shoulders, and are sometimes elevated behind, <em>quand +ils veulent le faire très soufflément</em>. Pewter +brooches are still in great request, as are also pewter-pots, which +are used in the tap-rooms of some <em>des cribbes +particulièrement flamboyants-haut</em>.</p> +<p>But I must <em>fermer ma trappe de pomme-de-terre, et promener +mes crayons; ainsi, adieu, mon joli tromp</em>.</p> +<p class="rgt"><em>Votre chummi dévoué</em>,<br /> +<em>Jusques tout est bleu</em>,<br /> +ALPHONSE JAMBES D’ARAIGNEE.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE.</h3> +<p>A juvenile party, among whom we noticed the two Biggses, +attended in Piccadilly to inspect the sewer now being made. One of +the workmen employed threw up a quantity of the soil, intending no +doubt to give an opportunity to the party of inspecting its +properties; but as it hit some of them in the eye, they retreated +rapidly.</p> +<p>The venerable square-keeper in Golden-square took his usual +airing round the railings yesterday, and afterwards partook of the +pleasures of the chase, by pursuing a boy into John-street. He was +attended by his usual <em>suite</em> of children, who cheered him +in his progress, following him as he ran on, and turning back so as +to precede him, when he abandoned the hunt and resumed his +promenade, which he did almost immediately.</p> +<p>Bill Bumpus walked for several hours in the suburbs yesterday. +In order to have the advantage of exercise, he carried a basket on +his head, and was understood to intimate in a loud tone that it +contained sprats, which he distributed to the humbler classes at a +penny a plateful.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>THE HIGH-ROAD TO GENTILITY;</h2> +<h4>OR</h4> +<h3>MRS. WOULD-BE’S ADVICE TO HER DAUGHTER.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Now, Charlotte, dear, attend to me,</p> +<p class="i2">You know you’re coming out,</p> +<p>And in the best society</p> +<p class="i2">Will shine, beyond a doubt.</p> +<p>Things were not always so with us,—</p> +<p class="i2">But let oblivion’s seal</p> +<p>For ever shut out former days—</p> +<p class="i2">They were so ungenteel.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And as for country neighbours, child,</p> +<p class="i2">You must forget them all;</p> +<p>And never visit any place</p> +<p class="i2">That is not Park or Hall.</p> +<p>But if you know a titled name,</p> +<p class="i2">That knowledge ne’er conceal;</p> +<p>And mention nothing in the world,</p> +<p class="i2">Except it be genteel.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But think no more of Henry, child;</p> +<p class="i2">His love is pure, I know;</p> +<p>He writes delightful verses too;</p> +<p class="i2">But cannot be your <em>beau</em>.</p> +<p>He never as at Almack’s, sure,—</p> +<p class="i2">From that there’s no appeal;</p> +<p>For neither gifts nor graces now</p> +<p class="i2">Can make a man genteel.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>You know Lord Worthless,—Charlotte, would</p> +<p class="i2">Not that be quite a match,</p> +<p>If not so very often in</p> +<p class="i2">The keeping of the watch?</p> +<p>He paid some damages last year,</p> +<p class="i2">Though slippery as an eel;</p> +<p>But then such vices in a peer</p> +<p class="i2">Are perfectly genteel.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And you must cut the Worthies—they’re</p> +<p class="i2">No company for you;</p> +<p>Though all of them are lovely girls,</p> +<p class="i2">And very clever too.</p> +<p>’Tis true, we found them kind, when all</p> +<p class="i2">The world were cold as steel;</p> +<p>’Tis true, they were your early friends;</p> +<p class="i2">But, then, they’re not genteel.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There’s Lady Waxwork, who, when dressed,</p> +<p class="i2">Has nothing she can say;</p> +<p>Miss Triffle of her lap-dog’s tail</p> +<p class="i2">Will chatter half the day.</p> +<p>The Honourable Mr. Trick</p> +<p class="i2">At cards can cheat or steal:—</p> +<p><em>These</em> are the friends that suit us now,</p> +<p class="i2">For oh! they’re <em>so</em> genteel!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But, Charlotte, dear, avoid the Blues,</p> +<p class="i2">No matter when, or how;</p> +<p>For literature is quite beneath</p> +<p class="i2">The higher classes now.</p> +<p>Though Raphael paint, or Homer sing,</p> +<p class="i2">Oh! never seem to feel;</p> +<p>Young ladies should not have a soul,—</p> +<p class="i2">It’s really ungenteel.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>A NEW WINE.</h3> +<p>SIR PETER LAURIE sent an order to a wine-merchant at the West +End on Tuesday last for “six dozen of the <em>best Ottoman +Porte</em>.”</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page258" name="page258"></a>[pg +258]</span> +<h2>LOYALTY AND INSANITY.</h2> +<p>“Half the day <em>at least</em>“—says the +editor of the <em>Athenæum</em>—“we are <em>in +fancy</em> at the Palace, taking <em>our turn</em> of loyal watch +by the cradle of the heir-apparent; <em>the rest</em> at our own +firesides, in that mood of <em>cheerful thankfulness</em> which +makes fun and frolic welcome!” Half the day, <em>at +least!</em></p> +<p>A stroke of fancy—especially to a heavy man—is +sometimes as discomposing as a stroke of paralysis. Our friend of +the <em>Athenæum</em> is not to be carried away by fancy, +cost free: his imaginative watch at the Palace—for who can +doubt that for six hours <em>per diem</em> he is in Buckingham +nursery?—has led him into the perpetration of various +eccentricities which, when we reflect upon the fortune he must have +hoarded, and the innate selfishness of our common nature, may +possibly end in a commission of lunacy. As juries are now-a-days +brought together (especially as Chartists abound), excessive +loyalty may be returned—confirmed insanity. It is, however, +our duty as good citizens and fellow-journalists to protest, in +advance, against any such verdict; declaring that whatever may be +adduced by the unreflecting persons in daily intercourse with the +editor—that grave and learned scribe is in the +enjoyment—of all the sense originally vouchsafed to him. We +know the stories that are in the most unfeeling manner told to the +disadvantage of the learned and inoffensive gentleman; we know +them, and shall not shrink from meeting them.</p> +<p>It is said that for one hour a day “at least” since +the birth of the Prince the unfortunate gentleman has been +invariably occupied folding and refolding a copy of the +<em>Athenæum</em>—now airing it and smoothing it +down—now unfolding and now folding it up again. Well, What of +this? The truth is, our poor friend has only been “taking his +turn,” arranging “in fancy” the diaper of the +royal nursery. That he should have selected a copy of the +<em>Athenæum</em> as a type of the swaddling cloth bespeaks +in our mind the presence of great judgment. It is madness with very +considerable method.</p> +<p>A printer’s devil—sent either for copy or a +proof—deposes that our friend seized him, and laying him in +his lap, insisted upon feeding him with his goose-quill, at the +same time dipping that noisome instrument in his ink-bottle. The +said devil declares that with all his experience of the various +qualities of various inks used by gentlemen upon town, he never met +with ink at once so muddy and so sour as the ink of the +<em>Athenæum</em>. We do not deny the statement of the devil +as to what he calls the assault committed upon him; but the fact +is, the editor was not in his own study, but was “taking his +turn” at the pap-spoon of the Duke of CORNWALL!</p> +<p>Betty, the editor’s housemaid, has given warning, +declaring that she cannot live with any gentleman who insists upon +taking her in his arms, and tossing her up and down as if she was +no more than a baby; at the same time making a chirruping noise +with his mouth, and calling her “poppet” and +“chickabiddy.” Well, we allow all this, and boldly ask, +What of it? We grant the “poppet;” we concede the +“chickabiddy;” and then sternly inquire if an excess of +loyalty is to impugn the reason of the most ratiocinative editor? +Does not the thing speak for itself? If BETTY were not a fool, she +would know that her master—good, regular man!—meant +nothing more than, under the auspices of Mrs. LILLY, to dandle the +Duke of CORNWALL.</p> +<p>A taxgatherer, calling upon the editor for the Queen’s +taxes, could get nothing out of our respected friend, but +“Ride a cock-horse to Bamberry Cross!” If taxgatherers +were not at once the most vindictive and the most stupid of men (it +is said Sir ROBERT has ordered them to be very carnivorous this +Christmas), the fellow would never have called in a broker to alarm +our excellent coadjutor, but would at once have seen that the +genius of the <em>Athenæum</em> was taking his turn in +Buckingham Palace, singing a nursery <em>canzonetta</em> to the +Duke of CORNWALL!</p> +<p>And is it for these, to us beautiful evidences of an absorbing +loyalty—of a feeling that is true as truth, for if it was a +mere conventional flame we should take no note of it—that the +editor of the <em>Athenæum</em>, a most grave, considerate +gentleman, should be cited to Gray’s-inn Coffee-house, and by +an ignorant and unimaginative mob of jurymen voted incapable of +writing reviews upon his own books, or the books of other +people?</p> +<p>The question that we would here open is one of great and social +political importance. There is an end of personal liberty if the +enthusiasm of loyalty is to be visited as madness. For our part, we +have the fullest belief in the avowal of the poor man of the +<em>Athenæum</em>, that for half a day he is—in +fancy—watching the little Prince in Buckingham nursery; and +yet we see that men are deprived of enormous fortunes (we tremble +for the copyright of the <em>Athenæum</em>) for indulging in +stories, with equal probability on the face of them. For instance, +a few days since WEEKS, a Greenwich pensioner, (being suddenly +rich, the reporters call him <em>Mister</em> WEEKS,) was fobbed out +of 120,000<em>l.</em> for having boasted (among other things) that +he had had children by Queen ELIZABETH (by the way, the virginity +of Royal BETSY has before been questioned)—that he intended +to marry Queen VICTORIA, and that, in fact, not GEORGE THE THIRD +but WEEKS THE FIRST was the father of Queen CHARLOTTE’S +offspring. Now, what is all this, but loyalty <em>in excess</em>? +Is it not precisely the same feeling that takes the editor of the +<em>Athenæum</em> half of every day from his family, +spellbinding him at the cradle of the Duke of CORNWALL? Cannot our +readers just as easily believe the pensioner as the editor? We +can.</p> +<p>“He told me he was going to marry the Queen” (thus +speaks Sir R. DOBSON, chief medical officer of Greenwich Hospital, +of poor WEEKS), “and <em>I had him cupped</em> and treated as +an insane patient!” Can the editor hope to escape +blood-letting and a shaven head? “He told me he was going to +dine to-day at Buckingham Palace.” Thus spoke WEEKS. +“Half the day at least we are in fancy at the Palace;” +thus boasteth the <em>Athenæum</em>. The pensioner is found +“incapable of managing himself or his affairs:” the +editor continues to review books and write articles! “He +(WEEKS) also said he had once horse-whipped a lion until it became +afraid of him!” Where is CARTER—where VAN AMBURGH, if +not in Bedlam? Lucky, indeed, is it for the editor of the +<em>Athenæum</em> that his weekly miscellany (wherein he +<em>thinks</em> he sometimes horse-whips lions) is not quite worth +120,000<em>l.</em> Otherwise, certain would be his summons to +Gray’s-inn.</p> +<p>We have rejoiced, as beseemed us, at the birth of the little +Prince; it now becomes our grave moral duty to read a lesson of +forbearance to those enthusiastic people who—especially if +they have money—may by an excess of the principle of loyalty +put in peril their personal freedom. Let them not take confidence +from the safety enjoyed by the <em>Athenæum</em> +editor—the poverty of the press may protect him. If, however, +he and other influential wizards of the broad sheet, succeed in +making loyalty not a rational principle, but a mania—if, day +by day, and week by week, they insist upon deifying poor infirm +humanity, exalting themselves in their own conceit, in their very +self-abasement—they may escape an individual accusation in +the general folly. When we are all mad alike—when we all, +with the editor of the <em>Athenæum</em>, take our +half-day’s watch at the little Prince’s +cradle—when every man and woman throughout the empire believe +themselves making royal pap and airing royal baby-linen—then, +whatever fortune we may have we may be safe from the fate of poor +WEEKS, the Greenwich pensioner, who, we repeat, is most unjustly +confined for his notions of royalty, seeing that many of our +contemporaries are still left at liberty to write and publish. Poor +dear little PRINCE! if fed and nourished from your cradle upwards +upon such stuff as that pressed upon you since your birth, what +deep, what powerful sympathies will be yours with the natures of +your fellow-men—what lofty notions of kingly usefulness, and +kingly duty!</p> +<p>It may be that certain writers think they best oppose the +advancing spirit of the time—questioning as it does the +“divinity” that hedges the throne—by adopting the +worse than foolish adulation of a by-gone age. In a silly flippant +book just published—a thing called <em>Cecil</em>—the +author speaks of the first appearance of VICTORIA in the House of +Lords. He says—</p> +<p>“An unaccountable feeling <em>of trust</em> rose in my +bosom. I speak it not profanely—[when a writer says this, be +sure of it that, as in the present case, he goes deep as he can in +profanation]—when I say <em>that the idea of the yet unknown +Saviour</em>, a child among the Doctors of the Temple, occurred +spontaneously to my mind!”</p> +<p>Now this book has been daubed with honey; the writer has been +promised “an European reputation” (Madame LAFFARGE has +a reputation equally extensive), and he is at this moment to be +found upon drawing-tables, whose owners would scream—or +affect to scream—as at an adder, at SHELLEY. Nay, +Shelley’s publisher is found guilty of blasphemy in the Court +of Queen’s Bench; and that within these few months. We should +like to know Lord Denman’s opinions of Mr. BOONE. What would +he say of Queen Victoria being compared to the Redeemer—of +Lord LONDONDERRY, <em>et hoc genus omne</em>, being “Doctors +of the Temple?”</p> +<p>A writer in the <em>Almanach des Gourmands</em> says, in praise +of a certain viand, “this is a dish to be eaten on your +knees.” There are writers who, with, goose-quill in hand, +never approach royalty, but they—write upon their knees!</p> +<p class="rgt">Q.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page259" name="page259"></a>[pg +259]</span> +<h2>PUNCH’S PENCILLINGS.—No. XXII.</h2> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/022-05.png"><img src= +"images/022-05.png" alt= +"A man carves 'Jack Russell' on a beam. Another beam is marked 'Timber Duties.'" +id="img022-05" name="img022-05" width="100%" /></a> +<p>JACK CUTTING HIS NAME ON THE BEAM.</p> +</div> +<!-- [pg 260] --> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page261" name="page261"></a>[pg +261]</span> +<h2>PUNCH’S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.</h2> +<h3>INTERNATIONAL GEOGRAPHY.</h3> +<p>The Fleet is a very peculiar isolated kingdom, bounded on the +north by the wall to the north or north wall; on the south, by the +wall to the south or south wall; on the east, by the wall to the +east or east wall; and on the west, by the wall to the west or west +wall. The manners and habits of the natives are marked with many +extraordinary peculiarities; and some of the local customs are of +an exceedingly interesting character.</p> +<p>The derivation of the word “Fleet” has caused many +controversies, and we believe is even now involved in much mystery, +and subject to much dispute.</p> +<p>Some commentators have endeavoured to establish an analogy +between the words “<em>fleet</em>” and +“fast,” with the view of showing that these being +nearly synonymous terms, “the fleet is a corruption from the +fast, or keep <em>fast</em>.” Others again contend the origin +to be purely nautical, inasmuch as this country, like the ships in +war time, is mostly peopled with <em>pressed men</em>. While a +third class argue that the name was originally one of warning, +traditionally handed down from father to son by the inhabitants of +the surrounding countries (with whom this land has never been in +high favour), and that the addition of the letter <em>T</em> +renders the phrase perfect, leaving the caution thus, +<em>Flee-it</em>—now contracted and perverted into the +commonly used term of <em>Fleet</em>.</p> +<p>As we are only the showmen about to exhibit “the lions and +the dogs,” we merely put forward these deductions, and tell +our readers they are welcome to choose “which<em>h</em>ever +they please, <em>h</em>our little dears!” while we will at +once proceed to describe the manners and habits of the natives.</p> +<p>One great peculiarity in connexion with this strange people is, +that the inhabitants are, from the first moment of their +appearance, invariably adults; and we can positively assert the +almost incredible fact, that no <em>bonâ fide</em> occupant +of these realms was ever seen in any part of their domain in the +hands of a nurse, enveloped in the long clothes worn by many of the +infants of the surrounding nations. Like the Spartan youths, all +these people undergo a long course of training, and exceed the age +of one-and-twenty before they are deemed worthy of admission into +the ranks of these singular hordes. They have no actual sovereign, +but merely two traditionary beings, to whom they bow with most +abject servility. These imaginary potentates are always alluded to +under the fearful names of “John Doe and Richard Roe;” +though they are never seen, still their edicts are all-powerful, +their commands extending to the most distant regions, and carrying +captivity and caption-fees wherever they go. These <em>firmans</em> +are entrusted to the charge of a peculiar race of beings, commonly +called officers to the sheriff. There is something exceedingly +interesting in the ceremonious attendant upon the execution of one +of these potent fiats: the manner is as follows. Having received +the orders of “John Doe and Richard Roe,” they proceed +to the residence of their intended captive, and with consummate +skill, like the Eastern tellers of tales, commence their business +by the repetition of some ingenious story (called in the language +of the captured, <em>lie</em>), wherein the Bumme Bayllyffe (such +is their title) artfully represents himself “as a cousin from +the country,” an “uncle from town,” or some near +and dear long expected and anxiously-looked-for +returned-from-abroad friend. Should their endeavours fail in +procuring the desired interview, they frequently have resort to the +following practice. With the right-hand finger and thumb they open +a small aperture in the side of a species of garment, generally +manufactured from drab broadcloth, in which they encase their lower +extremities, and having thrust their hand to the very bottom of the +said opening, they produce a peculiarly musical sound by jingling +various round pieces of white money, which so entrances the +feelings of the domestic with whom they are discoursing, that his +eyes become fixed upon the hand of the operater the moment the +sound ceases and it is withdrawn. The Bumme Bayllyffe then winketh +his right eye, and with great rapidity depositeth a curious-looking +coin, of the value of five shillings, in the hand of the domestic, +who thereupon pointeth with his dexter thumb over his left shoulder +to a small china closet, in which the enemy of John Doe and Richard +Roe is found, his Wellington boots sticking out of the hamper, +under the straw in which the rest of his person is deposited.</p> +<p>The Bumme Bayllyffe having called him loudly by his name, +showeth his writ, steppeth up, and tappeth him once gently upon the +shoulder, whereupon the ceremony is completed, and the future +inmate of the Fleet departeth with the Bumme Bayllyffe.</p> +<p>The first thing that attracts the attention of the captured of +John Doe and Richard Roe is the great care with which the entrance +to his new country is guarded. Four officials of the warden or +minister of the said John and Richard alternately remain in actual +possession of that interesting pass, to each of whom the new-comer +submits his face and figure for actual and earnest inspection, for +the reason that should the said new arrival by any means pass their +boundary, they themselves would suffer much disgrace and obliquy; +having undergone this inspection, he then proceeds to the interior +of these strange domains.</p> +<p>Walls! walls!! walls!!! meet him on every side; and by some +strange manner of judging the new-comer is immediately known as +such.</p> +<p>The costume of the natives differs widely from the usually +sported habiliments of more extended nations; caps worn by small +boys in other climes here decorated the heads of the most venerable +elders, and peculiarly-cut dressing-gowns do duty for the discarded +broadcloth of a Stultz, a Nugee, or a Willis.</p> +<p>The new man’s conformity with the various customs of the +inmates is one of the most curious facts on record. We have been +favoured with the following table or scale by which time regulates +the gradual advancement to perfection of a genuine +“Fleety”:—</p> +<p><em>First Week.</em>—Ring; union-pin; watch; straps; clean +boots; ditto shirt; shave; and light waistcoat.</p> +<p><em>Second Week.</em>—Slippers in passage; no straps to +boots; rub on toe; dirty hall; fresh dickey; black vest; two +days’ beard.—[<em>Exit ring</em>.]</p> +<p><em>Third Week.</em>—Full-bosomed stock; one bracer; +indication of white chalk on seat of duck trousers; blue striped +shirt; no vest; shooting jacket; small imperial.—[<em>Exeunt +union-pin and watch.</em>]</p> +<p><em>Fourth Week.</em>—White collar; blue shirt; slippers +various; boots a little over at heel; incipient moustache; silk +pocket-handkerchief round neck; and a fortnight’s splashes on +trousers.</p> +<p><em>Fifth Week.</em>—Red ochre outline of increased +whiskers, flourishing imperial, and chevaux-de-frise moustache; +dirty shirt; French cap; Jersey over-all; one slipper and a boot; +meerschaum; dressing-gown; and principal seat at the free and +easy.</p> +<p><em>Sixth.</em>—Everything in the “<em>worser</em> +line;” called by christian name by their bed-maker; hold +their tongues, in consideration of three weeks’ arrears, at +four shillings a week; and then <em>all’s done</em>, and the +inhabitant is complete.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>ELEGANT PHRASES.</h3> +<p>There are people now-a-days who peruse with pleasure the works +of Homer, Juvenal, and other poets and satirists of the old school; +and it is not unlikely that centuries hence persons will be found +turning back to the pages of the writers of the present day +(especially PUNCH), and we rather just imagine they will be not a +little puzzled and flabbergasted to discover the meaning, or wit, +of some of those elegant phrases and figures of speech so generally +used by this enlightened and reformed age! The following brief +elucidation of a few of these may serve for present ignoramuses, +and also for future inquirers.</p> +<p><em>That’s the Ticket for Soup.</em>—Is one of the +commonest, and originated several years ago, we have discovered, +after much study and research, when a portion of the inhabitants of +this wicked lower globe were suffering under a malady, called by +learned and scientific men “poverty,” and were supplied +by the rich and benevolent with a mixture of hot water, turnips, +and a spice of beef, under the name of soup. There are two kinds of +tickets for soups in existence in London at present—</p> +<ol> +<li> +<p>The Ticket for Turtle Soup, or a ticket to a Lord Mayor’s +Feast. It is only necessary to add, these are in much request.</p> +</li> +<li> +<p>The Ticket for Mendicity Society Soup. Beggars and such-like +members of society monopolize these tickets; and it has lately been +discovered by a celebrated philanthropist that no respectable +person was ever known to make use of one of them. This is a +remarkable fact, and worthy the attention of the anti-monopolists. +These tickets are bought and sold like merchandise, and their +average value in the market is about one halfpenny.</p> +</li> +</ol> +<p><em>How’s your Mother.</em>—This affectionate +inquiry is generally coupled with</p> +<p><em>Has she Sold her Mangle.</em>—“Mangling done +here” is an announcement which meets the eye in several +quarters of this metropolis; and when the last census was taken by +the author of the “Lights and Shadows of London Life,” +the important discovery was made that this branch of business is +commonly carried on by old ladies. The importance (especially to +the landlord) of the answer to this query is at once +perceivable.</p> +<p>We scarcely expect a monument to be raised to PUNCH for these +discoveries; though if we had our deserts—but <em>verbum +sap</em>.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page262" name="page262"></a>[pg +262]</span> +<h3>SONGS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL.—No. 13.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Yes! we have said the word adieu!</p> +<p class="i2">A blight has fallen on my soul!</p> +<p>And bliss, that angels never knew,</p> +<p class="i2">Is torn from me, by fate’s control!</p> +<p>And yet the tear I shed at parting,</p> +<p>Was “all my eye and Betty Martin!”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And <em>thou</em> hast sworn that never more</p> +<p class="i2">Thy heart shall bow to passion’s spell;</p> +<p>But ever sadly ponder o’er</p> +<p class="i2">The anguish of our last farewell!</p> +<p>Yet, as you still are in your teens—</p> +<p><em>I</em> say, “tell that to the Marines!”</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And still perchance thy faithful heart</p> +<p class="i2">May pine, and break, when I am gone!</p> +<p>While bitter tears, unbidden, start,</p> +<p class="i2">As oft thou musest—sad and lone!</p> +<p>I’ve read such things in many a tale—</p> +<p>But yet it’s “very like a whale!”</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>PEN AND PALETTE PORTRAITS.</h2> +<h4>(TAKEN FROM THE FRENCH.)</h4> +<h3>BY ALPHONSE LECOURT.</h3> +<p class="rgt"><em>Paris, Passage de l’Opéra, Escalier +B. au 3ème.</em></p> +<p>MY DEAR PUNCH,</p> +<p>I salute you with reverence—I embrace you with +affection—I thank you with devout gratitude, for the many +delightful moments I have enjoyed in your society. I regularly read +your “London Charivari:” it is +magnificent—superb! What wit—what +<em>agacerie</em>—what exquisite badinage is contained in +every line of it! You are the veritable monarch of English humour. +Hail, then, great <em>fun-ambule</em>, PUNCH THE FIRST! Long may +you live, to flourish your invincible baton, and to increase the +number of your laughing subjects. Your “Physiology of the +Medical Student” has been translated, and the avidity with +which it is read here has suggested to me the idea that sketches of +French character might be equally popular amongst English readers. +With this hope I send yon the commencement of a Physiological and +Pictorial Portrait of “THE LOVER.” I have chosen him +for my leading character, because his madness will be understood by +the whole world. Love, <em>mon cher ami</em>, is not a local +passion, it grows everywhere like—but I am anticipating my +subject, which I now commit to your hands.</p> +<p class="rgt">With sentiments of the profoundest respect and +esteem,<br /> +ALPHONSE LECOURT.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/022-06.png"><img src= +"images/022-06.png" alt="A despondent man sits on the ground." id= +"img022-06" name="img022-06" width="80%" /></a> +<p>PORTRAIT OF THE LOVER.</p> +</div> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> +<h4>THE AUTHOR DEDICATES HIS WORK TO THE FAIRER HALF OF THE +CREATION.</h4> +<div class="dropcap"><a href="images/022-07.png"><img src= +"images/022-07.png" alt= +"A Renaissance man stands next to a letter G." id="img022-07" name= +"img022-07" width="100%" /></a></div> +<p><span class="hide">G</span>entle woman!—Beautiful +enigma!—whose magnetic glances and countless charms subdue +man’s sterner nature—to you I dedicate the following +pages. The subject on which I am about to treat is the gravest, the +lightest, the most decided, the most undefined, the most earthly, +the most spiritual, the saddest, and the gayest, the most +individual, and at the same time the most universal you can +imagine. To you, ladies, I address myself. You who form the keys on +which the eternal and infinite gamut of love has been run from +creation’s first hour till the present moment—tell me +how I may best touch the chords of your hearts? Come around me, ye +earthly divinities of every age, rank, and imaginable variety! Buds +of blushing sixteen, full-blown roses of thirty, haughty court +dames, and smiling city beauties, come like delicious phantoms, and +fill my mind with images graceful as your own forms, and melting as +your own hearts! Thanks, gentle spirits! ye have heard my call, and +now, inspired by you, I seize my pen, and give to my paper the +thoughts which crowd upon my mind.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>WHAT IS LOVE?</h4> +<p>It is easier to answer this question by a thousand instances, +than by one definition, which can comprehend them all. What is +Love? It is anything you please. It is a prism, through which the +eye beholds the same object in various colours; it is a heaven of +bliss, or a hell of torture; a thirst of the heart—an +appetite which we spiritualize; a pure expansion of the soul, but +which sooner or later becomes metamorphosed into an animal +passion—a diamond statue with feet of clay. It is a +dream—a delirium, a desire for danger, and a hope of +conquest; it is that which everyone abjures, and everyone covets; +it is the end, the great end, and the only end of life. Love, in +short, is a tyrannical influence which none can escape; and however +metaphysicians may define the passion, it appears to me that it is +wholly dependent on the mysterious</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/022-08.png"><img src= +"images/022-08.png" alt= +"A pair of lovers cuddle in front of a tree." id="img022-08" name= +"img022-08" width="70%" /></a> +<p>LAWS OF ATTRACTION.</p> +</div> +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>A FEW WORDS ABOUT YOUNG LADIES.</h4> +<p>A young lady, I mean one who has but recently thrown aside her +dolls, is a bashful blushing little puppet, who only acts, speaks, +and moves as mama directs. She is a statue of flesh and blood, not +yet animated by the Promethean fire—a chrysalis, which may +one day become a beautiful butterfly, fluttering on silken wing +amidst a crowd of adorers; but she is yet only a chrysalis, pale +and cold, and wrapped up in a thousand conventional restrictions, +like a mummy in its swathes.</p> +<p>The <em>very</em> young lady is usually prodigiously careful of +her little self: she regards men as her natural enemies. Poor +innocent!—This absurdity is the fault of her education. They +have made her believe that love is the most abominable, execrable, +infernal thing in existence. They have taught her to lie and to +dissimulate her most innocent emotions. But the time is not far +distant when the natural impulses of her heart will break down the +barriers that hypocrisy has placed around her. Woman was formed to +love: she must obey the imperious law of her being, and will love +the moment her inspirations for the <em>belle passion</em> become +stronger than her reason. I may add, also, that when a young lady +discovers a tendency this way, it may be safely conjectured the +object on which she will bestow her favour is not very distant.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>THE AUTHOR’S DIVISION OF HIS SYSTEM.</h4> +<p>It has been a long-established axiom that there is but one great +principle <span class="pagenum"><a id="page263" name= +"page263"></a>[pg 263]</span> of love; but then it assumes various +phases, according to the thousands of circumstances under which it +is exhibited, and which, to speak in the language of philosophy, it +would be impossible to synthetise. Time, place, age, the very +season of the year, the ruling passion, peace or war, education, +the instincts of the heart, the health of the body and the mind (if +it be possible for the latter to be in a sane state when we fall in +love), the buoyancy of youth or the decrepitude of old +age,—these, and numerous other causes which I cannot at +present enumerate, serve to modify to infinity the form and +character of the sentiment. Thus we do not love at eighteen as we +do at forty, nor in the city as we do in the country, nor in spring +as we do in autumn, nor in the camp as we do in the court; nor does +the ignorant man love like a learned one; the merchant does not +love like the lawyer; nor does the latter love like the doctor. It +is upon these different phases in the character of love that I have +founded my system. Next week I shall endeavour to describe some of +the traits which distinguish “The Lover.” Till then, +fair readers,—I remain your devoted slave.</p> +<p>WITNESS MY</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/022-09.png"><img src= +"images/022-09.png" alt="A man kisses a woman's hand" id= +"img022-09" name="img022-09" width="40%" /></a> +<p>HAND AND SEAL.</p> +</div> +<div class="figcenter" style="margin-left:25%;"><a href= +"images/022-10.png"><img src="images/022-10.png" alt="A signature of Alph. Lecourt." +id="img022-10" name="img022-10" width="90%" /></a></div> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>GRANT’S MEDITATIONS AMONG THE COFFEE-CUPS.</h2> +<p>We had long considered ourselves the funniest dogs in +Christendee; and, in the plenitude of our vanity, imagined that we +monopolised the attention and admiration of the present and the +future. We expected to be deified, and thus become the founders of +a new mythology. PUNCH must be immortal! But how shorn of his +pristine splendour—how denuded of his fancied glories! for +the <em>John Bull</em> has discovered—</p> +<h3>GRANT’S LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF LONDON LIFE.</h3> +<p>Wretched as we must be at this reflection, we generously resort +to—our scissors, and publish our own discomfiture.</p> +<p>In alluding to the author’s description of the London +dining-room, the <em>John Bull</em> remarks:—</p> +<p>It will bring comfort to the savage bosoms of the late Ministry, +for whose especial information we must make a few more extracts, +concerning coffee-houses, or shops, as they are mostly termed.</p> +<h4>COFFEE SHOPS.</h4> +<p>The second class of coffee-houses, and those I have particularly +in my eye, are altogether different from those I have just +mentioned. The prices are remarkably moderate in most of these +places; the charge is no more than three-halfpence for half a pint +of coffee, or <em>threepence for a whole pint</em>. The price of +half a pint of tea is twopence, <em>of a whole pint fourpence</em>. +If you simply ask bread to your tea or coffee, two large slices, +well buttered, are brought you, for which you are charged twopence. +Or should you prefer having a penny roll, or any other sort of +bread, you can have it at the same price as at the +baker’s.</p> +<p>In most coffee-houses, you may also have chops or steaks for +dinner. If the party be a <em>rigid economist(!)</em> he may, as +regards some of these <em>establishments</em>, purchase his steak +or chop himself, and it will be prepared gratuitously for him; but +if that be too much trouble for him to take, and he prefers +ordering it at once, he will get, in many houses, his chop with +bread and potatoes with it for sixpence, and his steak for +ninepence or tenpence.</p> +<p>These coffee-houses have many advantages over hotels, besides +the great difference in the prices charged. In the first place, +there is not so much <em>formality</em> or <em>affected +dignity</em> about them, and they are far better provided with +means of rational amusement; and the promptitude with which a +customer is served is really surprising.</p> +<p>Are not these passages declarations of the individual? Winding +himself up with twopenny-worth of cheese! Pleading for the +additional penny for the waitress, whose personal charms and +obliging disposition must be considered to extort the amount! And +above all, unable to conceive any motive, except aversion to +trouble, for disliking to carry “his chop” upon a +skewer through the streets of London. How every line revels in the +recollection of having dined, and speaks how seldom! while the +<em>well-buttered</em> bread infers the usual fare. Still it is not +meanly written. There are a glorying and exultation in every word +that redeem it, and show the author is more to be envied than +compassionated; though a little further on we perceive the shifts +to which his homeless state has reduced him.</p> +<h4>MEDITATION IN LONDON.</h4> +<p>You can order, if you please, a cup of coffee without anything +to it; and, for so doing, you may sit if you wish for five or six +hours in succession.</p> +<p>I have said that coffee-houses are excellent places for reading; +I might have added, for <em>meditation</em> also. For unlike +public-houses, there are no noisy discussions and disputes in them. +All is calm, tranquil, and comfortable. The beverage, too, which is +drank as a beverage, as I before remarked in a previous chapter, +<em>cheers, but not inebriates</em>.</p> +<p>The remarks are generally equally original, and the facts, no +doubt in some degree truths, are all alike humorous; the more so +when the aspect of the book and the names of the respectable +publishers suggest the higher class of readers to whom it is +addressed. Little anecdotes are interspersed, concerning Harriet, +of Coventry-street, who didn’t mind her stops; and James, +behind the Mansion-house, who knew everybody’s appetite, that +enliven the descriptive portions of the work, which is in its very +inappropriateness the more amusing, and cannot be read without +reaping both information and instruction on topics which no other +author would have had the temerity to discuss.</p> +<p>But these are only words. Let PUNCH, the rival of this +Caledonian Asmodeus, do justice to the man whose “character +is stamped on every page (of his own), who yet is above pity; poor, +yet full of enjoyment; humble, yet glorious; ignorant, yet +confident.”</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/022-11.png"><img src= +"images/022-11.png" alt= +"A man stands among coffee pots and cups that have faces." id= +"img022-11" name="img022-11" width="50%" /></a> +<p>GRANT’S MEDITATIONS AMONG THE COFFEE-CUPS.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE MONEY MARKET.</h3> +<p>Tin is 14 per cwt. in London, and this, allowing a fraction for +wear and tear, gives an exchange of 94 36-27ths in favour of +Hamburgh.</p> +<p>The money market is much easier this week, and bills +(play-bills) were to be had in large quantities. A large capitalist +who holds turnpike tickets to a large amount, caused much confusion +by letting some pass from his hands, when they flew about with +alarming rapidity. Several persons seemed desirous of taking them +up, but a rush of bulls (from Smithfield) rendered this quite +impossible.</p> +<p>Whitechapel scrip was done at 000 <em>premium</em>; but in the +course of the day 00000 discount was freely offered.</p> +<p>This was settling day, when many parties paid the scores they +had been running at the cook-shop opposite. There was only one +defaulter, and as it was not anticipated he would come up to the +mark; for he had been chalking up rather largely of late: nothing +was said about it.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page264" name="page264"></a>[pg +264]</span> +<h3>A DICTIONARY FOR THE LADIES.</h3> +<h4>PUNCH,</h4> +<p>Solicitous to maintain and enhance that reputation for gallantry +towards his fair readers which it has ever been his pride to have +merited, has much pleasure, not unmixed with self-congratulation, +in thus announcing to the loveliest portion of the creation the +immediate appearance of</p> +<h4>A DICTIONARY ENTIRELY AND EXCLUSIVELY FOR THEIR USE;</h4> +<p>in which the signification of every word will he given in a +strictly feminine sense, and the orthography, as a point of which +ladies like to be properly independent, will be studiously +suppressed. The whole to be compiled and edited by</p> +<h4>MADAME PUNCH.</h4> +<p>To which will be appended a little Manual addressed +confidentially by PUNCH himself to the Ladies, and entitled</p> +<h4>TEN MINUTES’ ADVICE ON THE CARE AND USE OF A +HUSBAND;</h4> +<p>or “what to ask, and how to insist upon it, so that the +obstreperous bridegroom may become a meek and humble +husband.”</p> +<h4>SPECIMEN OF THE WORK.</h4> +<p><em>Husband</em>.—A person who writes cheques, and dresses +as his wife directs.</p> +<p><em>Duck</em>, <em>in ornithology</em>.—A trussed +bridegroom, with his giblets under his arm.</p> +<p><em>Brute</em>.—A domestic endearment for a husband.</p> +<p><em>Marriage</em>.—The only habit to which women are +constant.</p> +<p><em>Lover</em>.—Any young man but a brother-in-law.</p> +<p><em>Clergyman</em>.—One alternative of a lover.</p> +<p><em>Brother</em>.—The other alternative.</p> +<p><em>Honeymoon</em>.—A wife’s opportunity.</p> +<p><em>Horrid</em>; <em>Hideous</em>.—Terms of admiration +elicited by the sight of a lovely face anywhere but in the +looking-glass.</p> +<p><em>Nice</em>; <em>Dear</em>.—Expressions of delight at +anything, from a baby to a barrel-organ.</p> +<p><em>Appetite</em>.—A monstrous abortion, which is stifled +in the kitchen, that it may not exist during dinner.</p> +<p><em>Wrinkle</em>.—The first thing one lady sees in +another’s face.</p> +<p><em>Time</em>.—What any lady remarks in a watch, but what +none detect in the gross.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>SOUP, A LA JULIEN.</h3> +<p>A correspondent of the <em>Sunday Times</em> proposes to raise +ten thousand for the benefit of the labouring classes, in the +following manner:—</p> +<p>“Upon a <em>prima facie</em> view, my suggestion may +appear impracticable, but I am sure the above amount could be +raised for the benefit of the labouring classes by one effort of +royalty—an effort that would make our valued Queen +invaluable, and, at the same time, afford the Ministry an +opportunity of making themselves popular in the cause of their +country’s good. Westminster Hall is acknowledged to be the +largest room in the empire, and, with very little expense, might be +fitted up with a temporary throne, &c., for promenade concerts, +for one, two, or three, days. All the vocal and instrumental talent +of the day would be obtained gratis, and Her Most Gracious +Majesty’s presence, for only two hours on each day, with the +admission tickets at one guinea, would produce more money than I +have mentioned.” Would the above amiable philanthropist +favour us with his likeness? We imagine it would be a splendid</p> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/022-12.png"><img src= +"images/022-12.png" alt="A silhouette of a man with a top hat." id= +"img022-12" name="img022-12" width="30%" /></a> +<p>FANCY PORTRAIT OF HOOKEY WALKER.</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>POLITICAL INTELLIGENCE.</h3> +<p>SIR ROBERT PEEL was observed to put a penny into the hands of +the man at the crossing in Downing-street. It is anticipated, from +this trifling circumstance, that <em>sweeping</em> measures will be +introduced on the assembling of Parliament.</p> +<p>A deputation from the marrow-bones and cleavers waited on Lord +Stanley at the Treasury. His lordship listened attentively for some +minutes, and then abruptly left the apartment in which he had been +sitting.</p> +<p>We understand that Colonel Sibthorp intends proposing an +economical plan of church extension, that is to cost nothing to the +public; for it suggests that churches should be built of Indian +rubber, by which their extension would become a matter of the +greatest facility.</p> +<p>It is rumoured that the deficiency in the revenue is to be made +up by a tax on the incomes of literary men; and a per-centage on +the profits of <em>Martinuzzi</em> will first be levied by way of +experiment. Should it succeed, a duty will be laid on the produce +of <em>The Cloak and the Bonnet.</em></p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE LATE PROMOTIONS.</h3> +<p>The whole of the police force take one step forward, on account +of the late very liberal brevet.</p> +<p>Sergeant Snooks, of the Royal Heavy Highlows, to be raised to +the Light Wellingtons.</p> +<p>Policemen K 482,611, to be restored to the staff by having his +staff restored to him, which had been taken from him for +misconduct.</p> +<p>Corporal Smuggins, 16th Foot, to be Sergeant by purchase, +<em>vice</em> Buggins, arrested for debt.</p> +<p>All the <em>post</em> captains, who were formerly Twopennies, +will take the rank of Generals.</p> +<p>In the Thames Navy, 2d mate Simpkins, of the <em>Bachelor</em>, +to be 1st mate, <em>vice</em> Phunker, fallen overboard and +resigned.</p> +<p>All the men who are above the age of 100, and are in the actual +discharge of duty as policemen, are to be immediately superannuated +on half-pay—a liberal arrangement, prompted, it is believed, +by the birth of the Prince of Wales.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>PUNCH’S THEATRE.</h3> +<h4>NORMA, OSSIAN, AND PAUL BEDFORD.</h4> +<p>A vestal virgin with a husband and two children, a Roman +Lothario, with an Irish friend, a Druidical temple, a gong, and an +<em>auto-da-fé</em>, mix up charmingly with Bellini’s +quadrille-like music to form a pathetic opera; and sympathetic +<em>dilettanti</em> weep over the woes of “Norma,” +because they are so exquisitely portrayed by Miss Kemble, in spite +of the subject and the music. Such, indeed, is the power of this +lady’s genius—which is shed like a halo over the whole +opera—that nobody laughs at the broad Irish in which +<em>Flavius</em> delivers himself and his recitative; few are +risibly affected by the apathetic, and often out-of-tune, roarings +of <em>Pollio</em>:—than which stronger testimony could not +be cited of the triumph of Miss Kemble; for solely by her influence +do those who go to Covent-Garden to grin, return delighted.</p> +<p>But Apollo himself could not charm away the rich fun that +pervades the English adaptation; nor the modest humour of its +preface. It has been, hitherto, one characteristic of the lyric +drama to consist of verse; rhyme has been thought not wholly +dispensable. Those, however, who are “familiar with the +writings of Ossian,” (and the works of the Covent-Garden +adapter), will, according to the preface, at once see the fallacy +of this. Rhyme is mere “jingle,”—rhythm, +rhodomontade,—metre, monstrous,—versification, +villanous,—in short, Ossian did not write poetry, neither +does this learned prefacier—so it’s all nonsense!</p> +<p>To burlesque such a work as “Norma,” then, is to +paint the lily, to gild refined gold, to caricature Lord Morpeth, +or to attempt to improve PUNCH. Yet the opportunity was too +tempting to be wholly overlooked, and a hint having been dropped in +one of our “Pencillings,” an Adelphi scribe has acted +upon it. An enlarged edition of the work may, therefore, now be had +at half-price. A heroine of six foot two or three in her sandals, +with a bass voice, covers the stage with tremendous strides, and +warbles out “her wood-notes” (being a Druidess she +worships the <em>oak</em>) “wild,” with a volume of +voice which silences the trombone, and makes the ophecleide sound +asthmatic. In short, the great feature is Mr. Paul Bedford. The +children he brings forward are worthy of their parentage. +<em>Pollio</em> is made a most killing Roman <em>roué</em> +by Mrs. Grattan; but <em>Norma’s</em> attendant does not +speak Irish half so richly as the Covent-Garden +<em>Flavius</em>.</p> +<p>But, above all, commend we Mr. Wright’s +<em>Adelgeisa</em>. It is a masterpiece; all the airs and graces of +the <em>prima donna</em> he imitates with a true spirit of +burlesque. As to his singing, it astonished everybody, and so did +the introduction of “All round my Hat,”—a most +unnecessary interpolation, for the original music is quite as +droll.</p> +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +1, December 11, 1841, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 14940-h.htm or 14940-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/9/4/14940/ + +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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