Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 1, October 23, 1841 by Various
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Various >> Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 1, October 23, 1841
NEW WORKS NOW IN THE PRESS.
An Abstract and Brief Chronicle of the Times. Very small duodecimo. By Mr.
ROEBUCK.
A New Dissertation on the Anatomy of the Figures of the Multiplication
Table. By JOSEPH HUME.
Outlines of the Late Ministry, after _Ten Years_ (Teniers). By Lord
MELBOURNE.
Recollections of Place. By Lord JOHN RUSSELL.
Mythological Tract upon the Heathen Deity Cupid. By Lord PALMERSTON.
Explanatory Annotations on the Abstruse Works of the late Joseph (_vulgo_
Joe) Miller. With a humorous etching of his tombstone, and Original
Epitaph. By Colonel SIBTHORP.
Also, by the same Author, an Ornithological Treatise on the various
descriptions of Water-fowl; showing the difference between Russia and
other Ducks, and why the former are invariably sold in pairs.
A few words on Indefinite Subjects, supposed to be Sir Robert Peel's
Future Intentions. By Mr. WAKLEY.
* * * * *
AMERICAN CONGRESS.
We hasten to lay before our readers the following authentic reports of the
latest debates in the United States' Congress, which have been forwarded
to us by our peculiarly and especially exclusive Reporters.
_New York._--The greatest possible excitement exists here, agitating alike
the bosoms of the Whites, the Browns, and the Blacks; a universal sympathy
appears to exist among all classes, the greater portion of whom are
looking exceedingly blue. The all-absorbing question as to whether the
"war is to be or not to be," seems an exceedingly difficult one to answer.
One party says "Yes," and another party says "No," and a third party says
the above parties "Lie in their teeth;" and thereupon issue is joined, and
bowie-knives are exchanged--the "Yes" walking away with "No's" sheathed in
the middle of his back, and the "No" making up for his loss by securing
the "Yes's" somewhere between his ribs. All the black porters are looking
out for light jobs, and rushing about with shutters and cards of address,
bearing high-minded "Loco-focos" and shot-down "democrats" to their
respective surgeons and houses. This unusual bustle and activity gives the
more political parts of the city an exceedingly brisk appearance, and has
caused most of the eminent surgeons, not attached to either party, to be
regularly retained by the principal speakers in these most interesting
debates.
In Congress great attention is paid to the comfort of the various members,
who are all provided with spittoons, though they are by no means compelled
to tie themselves down to the exclusive use of those expectorant
receptacles; on the contrary, much ingenuity is shown by some of the more
practised in picking out other deposits; a vast majority of the
Kentuckians will back themselves to "shoot through" the opposition
member's nose and eye-glass without touching "flesh or flints."
The prevailing opinion appears to be, that should we come to a fight they
will completely alter the costume of the country, and "whop us into fits."
Their style of elocution is masterly in the extreme, redolent with the
sagest deductions, and overflowing with a magnificent and truly Eastern
redundancy of the most poetical tropes. I will now proceed to give you an
extract from the celebrated speaker on the war side--"the renowned
Jonathan J. Twang."
"I rather calculate that tarnal, pisoned, alligator of a ring-tailed,
roaring, pestiferous, rattlesnake, that critter 'the Old Country,' would
jist about give up one half its skin, and wriggle itself slick out of the
other, rayther than go for to put our dander up at this present identical
out-and-out important critical crisis! I conceit their min'stry have got
jist about into as considerable a tarnation nasty fix, as a naked nigger
in the stocks when the mosquitoes are steaming up a little beyond high
pressure. I guess Prince Albert and the big uns don't find their seats
quite as soft as buttered eels in a mud bank! Look here--isn't it
considerable clear they're all funking like burnt Cayenne in a clay pipe;
or couldn't they have made a raise some how to get a ship of their own, or
borrow one, to send after that caged-up 'coon of a Macleod? It's my
notion, and pretty considerable clear to me, they're all bounce, like bad
chesnuts, very well to look at, but come to try them at the fire for a
roast, and they turn out puff and shell. They talk of war as the boy did
of whipping his father, but like him, they daresn't do it, and why not?
why, for the following elegant reasons:--Since they have been used to the
advantages of doing their little retail trade with our own go-ahead and
carry-all-before-it right slick-up-an-end double-distilled essence of a
genuine fine and civilised country, the everlasting 'possums have become
habituated to some of the manners of our enlightened inhabitants. We have
nothing to do but refuse the supply of cottons, and leave them all with as
little shirts to their backs as wool on a skinned eel. Isn't it the
intercourse with this here country that enables them to speak their very
language with something rayther like a leetle correctness, though they're
just about as far behind us as the last jint of the sea-sarpent is from
his eye-tooth?
"Doesn't all international law consist in keeping an everlasting bright
look-out on your own side, and jamming all other varments slick through a
stone wall, as the waggon-wheel used up the lame frog? (Hear, hear.) I
say--and mind you I'll stick to it like a starved sloth to the back of a
fat babby--I say, gentlemen, this country, the United States (particularly
Kentucky, from which I come, and which will whip all the rest with
out-straws and rotten bull-rushes agin pike, bagnet, mortars, and all
their almighty fine artillery), I say, then, this country is considerable
like a genuine fac-simile of the waggon-wheel, and the pretty oneasy
busted-up old worn-out island of the bull-headed Britishers, ain't nothing
more than the tee-totally used-up frog. (Hear, hear.)
"I expect they'd have just as much chance with us as a muzzled monkey with
a hiccory-nut. Talk of their fleet! I'll bet six live niggers to a dead
'coon, our genuine Yankee clippers will whip them into as bad a fix as a
flying-fish with a gull at his head and a shark at his tail. They're jist
about as much out of their reckoning as the pig that took to swimming for
his health and cut his throat trying it on.
"It's everlasting strange to me if, to all future posterity coming after
us, the word 'Macleod' don't shut up their jaws from bragging of British
valour just about as tight as the death-squeeze of a boa-constrictor round
a smashed-up buffalo!
"If it wa'n't for the distance and leaving my plantation, I'd go over with
any on you, and help to use up the lot myself! Let them 'come on,' as the
tiger said to the young kid, and see what 'I'll do for you.' They talk of
sending out their chaps here, do they; let them; they'll be just about as
happy as a toad in hot tar, and that's a fact." Here Jonathan J. Twang sat
down amid immense cheers; at the conclusion of which, Mr. Peter P.
Pellican, from the back-woods, requested--he, Peter P. Pellican, being
from _Orleans_--that Mr. Jonathan J. Twang would retract certain words
derogatory to the state represented by Peter P. Pellican. Mr. Jonathan J.
Twang replied in the following determined refusal:--"I beg to inform the
last speaker, Mr. Peter P. Pellican, from the back-woods, that I'll see
him tee-totatiously tarred, feathered, and physicked with red-hot oil and
fish-hooks, before I'll retract one eternal syllable of my pretty
particular correct assertions."
This announcement created considerable confusion. The President behaved in
the most impartial and manly manner, indiscriminately knocking down all
such of both parties who came within reach of his mace, and not leaving
the chair until he had received two black eyes and lost two front teeth.
The general _melee_ was carried on with immense spirit; the more violent
members on either side pummelling each other with the most hearty and
legislative determination. This exciting scene was continued for some
time, until during a short cessation a member with a broken leg proposed
an adjournment till the following day, when the further discussion could
be carried on with Bowie-knives and pistols; this proposition was at once
acceded to with immense delight by all parties. If well enough (as I have
two broken ribs, my share of the row) I will forward you an authentic
statement of this interesting proceeding.
* * * * *
EPITAPH ON A CANDLE.
A _wicked_ one lies buried here,
Who died in a _decline_;
He never rose in rank, I fear,
Though he was born to _shine_.
He once was _fat_, but now, indeed,
He's thin as any griever;
He died,--the Doctors all agreed,
Of a most _burning_ fever.
One thing of him is said with truth,
With which I'm much amused;
It is--That when he stood, forsooth,
A _stick_ he always used.
Now _winding-sheets_ he sometimes made,
But this was not enough,
For finding it a poorish trade,
He also dealt in _snuff_.
If e'er you said "_Go out_, I pray,"
He much ill nature show'd;
On such occasions he would say,
"Vy, if I do, _I'm blow'd_."
In this his friends do all agree,
Although you'll think I'm joking,
When _going out_ 'tis said that he
Was very fond of _smoking_.
Since all religion he despised,
Let these few words suffice,
Before he ever was baptized
They _dipp'd_ him once or twice.
* * * * *
SIBTHORP ON BORTHWICK.
Our Sibthorp, while speaking of the asinine qualities of Peter Borthwick,
remarked, that in his opinion that respectable member of the Lower House
must be indebted to the celebrated medicine promising extreme "length of
ears," and advertised as
[Illustration: PARR'S SPECIFIC.]
* * * * *
FIRE! FIRE!
A REMONSTRANCE WITH THE NINTH OF NOVEMBER.
How melancholy an object is a "polished front," that vain-glorious and
inhospitable array of cold steel and willow shavings, in which the
emancipated hearth is annually constrained by careful housewives to
signalise the return of summer, and its own consequent degradation from
being a part of the family to become a piece of mere formal furniture. And
truly in cold weather, which (thanks to the climate, for we love our
country) is all the weather we get in England, the fire is a most
important individual in a house: one who exercises a bland authority over
the tempers of all the other inmates--for who could quarrel with his feet
on the fender? one with whom everybody is anxious to be well--for who
would fall out with its genial glow? one who submits with a graceful
resignation to the caprices of every casual elbow--and who has never poked
a fire to death? one whose good offices have endeared him alike to the
selfish and to the cultivated,--at once a host, a mediator, and an
occupation.
We have often had our doubts (but then we are partial) whether it be not
possible to carry on a conversation with a fire. With the aid of an
evening newspaper by way of interpreter, and in strict confidence, no
third party being present, we feel that it can be done. Was there an
interesting debate last night? were the ministers successful, or did the
opposition carry it? In either case, did not the fire require a vigorous
poke just as you came to the division? and did not its immediate flame,
or, on the contrary, its dull, sullen glow, give you the idea that it
entertained its own private opinions on the subject? And if those opinions
seemed contrary to yours, did you not endeavour to betray the sparks into
an untenable position, by submitting them to the gentle sophistry of a
poker nicely insinuated between the bars? or did you not quench with a
sudden retort of small coal its impertinent congratulation at an
unfortunate result? until, when its cordial glow, penetrating that
unseemly shroud, has given evidence of self-conviction, you felt that you
had dealt too harshly with an old friend, and hastened to make it up with
him again by a playful titillation, more in jest than earnest.
But this is all to come. Not yet (with us) have the kindly old bars,
reverend in their attenuation, been restored to their time-honoured
throne; not yet have the dingy festoons of pink and white paper
disappeared from the garish mantel. Still desolate and cheerless shows the
noble edifice. The gaunt chimney yawns still in sick anticipation of
deferred smoke. The "irons," innocent of coal, and polished to the tip,
skulk and cower sympathetically into the extreme corner of the fender. The
very rug seems ghastly and grim, wanting the kindly play of the excited
flame. We have no comfort in the parlour yet: even the privileged kitten,
wandering in vain in search of a resting-place, deems it but a chill
dignity which has withdrawn her from the warm couch before the
kitchen-fire. Things have become too real for home. We have no joy now in
those delicious loiterings for the five minutes before dinner--those
casual snatches of Sterne, those scraps of Steele. We have left off
smiling; we are impregnable even to a pun. What _is_ the day of the month?
Surely were not October retrospectively associated (in April and glorious
May) with the grateful magnificence of ale, none would be so unpopular as
the chilly month. There is no period in which so much of what ladies call
"unpleasantness" occurs, no season when that mysterious distemper known as
"warming" is so epidemic, as in October. It is a time when, in default of
being conventionally cold, every one becomes intensely cool. A general
chill pervades the domestic virtues: hospitality is aguish, and charity
becomes more than proverbially numb.
In twenty days how different an appearance will things wear! The magic
circle round the hearth will be filled with beaming faces; a score of
hands will be luxuriously chafing the palpable warmth dispensed by a
social blaze; some more privileged feet may perchance be basking in the
extraordinary recesses of the fender. We shall consult the thermometer to
enjoy the cold weather by contrast with the glowing comfort within. We
shall remark how "time flies," and that "it seems only yesterday since we
had a fire before;" forgetful of the hideous night and the troublous
dreams that have intervened since those sweet memories. And all this--in
twenty days.
We are no innovators: we respect all things for their age, and some for
their youth. But we would hope that, in humbly looking for a fire in the
cold weather, even though November be still in the store of time, we
should be exhibiting no dangerous propensities. If, as we are inclined to
believe, fires were discovered previously to the invention of lord mayors,
wherefore should we defer our accession to them until he is welcomed by
those frigid antiquities Gog and Magog? Wherefore not let fires go out
with the old lord mayor, if they needs must come in with the new?
Wherefore not do without lord mayors altogether, and elect an annual grate
to judge the prisoners at the _bar_ in the Mansion House, and to listen to
the quirks of the facetious Mr. _Hob_-ler?
* * * * *
AN APPROPRIATE GIFT.
We perceive that the fair dames of Nottingham have, with compassionate
liberality, presented to Mr. Walter, one of the Tory candidates at the
late election, a silver _salver_. What a delicate and appropriate gift for
a man so beaten as Master Walter!--the pretty dears knew where he was
hurt, and applied a silver salve--we beg pardon, _salver_--to his wounds.
We trust the remedy may prove consolatory to the poor gentleman.
* * * * *
NOT A STEP FA(R)THER.
The diminutive chroniclers of Animalcula-Chatter, called small-talk, have
been giving a minute description of the goings on of His Grace of
Wellington at Walmer. They hint that he sleeps and wakes by clock-work,
eats by the ounce, and drinks and walks by measure. During the latter
recreation, it is his _pleasure_, they tell us, to use one of _Payne's_
pedometers to regulate his march. Thus it is quite clear the great Captain
will never become a
[Illustration: "SOLDIER TIRED."]
* * * * *
A MALE DUE.
The Post-office in Downing-street has been besieged by various inquirers,
who are anxiously seeking for some information as to the expected arrival
of the Royal Male.
* * * * *
CURIOUS SYNONYMS.
Sir Peter Laurie discovered during his residence in Boulogne that _veau_
is the French for _veal_. On his return to England, being at a public
dinner, he exhibited his knowledge of the tongues by asking a brother
alderman for a slice of his _weal_ or _woe_.
* * * * *
HAPPY LAND!
Six young girls, inmates of the Lambeth workhouse, were brought up at
Union Hall, charged with breaking several squares of glass. In their
defence, they complained that they had been treated worse in the workhouse
than they would be in prison, and said that it was to cause their
committal to the latter place they committed the mischief. What a
beautiful picture of moral England this little anecdote exhibits! What
must be the state of society in a country where crime is punished less
severely than poverty?
Old England, bless'd and favour'd clime!
Where paupers to thy prisons run;
Where poverty's the only crime
That angry justice frowns upon.
* * * * *
THE NEW STATE STRETCHER.
"What an uncomfortable bed Peel has made for himself!" observed Normanby
to Palmerston. "That's not very clear to me, I confess," replied the
Downing-street Cupid, "as it is acknowledged he sleeps on a _bolstered
cabinet_." The pacificator of Ireland closed his face for the remainder of
the day.
* * * * *
The latest case of monomania, from our own specially-raised American
correspondent:--A gentleman who fancied himself a pendulum always went
upon tick, and never discovered his delusion until he was carefully wound
up in the Queen's Bench.
* * * * *
"VERY LIKE A WHALE."
The first of all the royal infant males
_Should_ take the title of the Prince of _Wales_;
Because 'tis clear to seaman and to lubber,
Babies and _whales_ are both inclined to _blubber_.
* * * * *
ARRIVED AT LAST.
We perceived by a paragraph copied from the "_John o'Groats Journal_,"
that an immense Whale, upwards of _seventy-six_ feet in length, was
captured a few days since at Wick. Sir Peter Laurie and Alderman Humphrey
on reading this announcement _naturally_ concluded that the _Wick_
referred to was our gracious Queen _Wic_, and rushed off to
Buckingham-palace to pay their united tribute of loyalty to the
long-expected _Prince of Wales_.
* * * * *
EPIGRAM.
I'm going to seal a letter, Dick,
Some _wax_ pray give to me.
I have not got a _single stick_,
Or _whacks_ I'd give to thee.
* * * * *
THE PICTORIAL HISTORY OF PARLIAMENT.
In our last we briefly adverted to the gratifying fact that Mr. Barry had
at least a thousand superficial feet on the walls of the new Houses of
Parliament at the services of the historical painters of England; and we
also, in a passing manner, suggested a few compositions worthy of their
pencils. A reconsideration of the matter convinces us that the subject is
too important--too national, to be adopted as merely the fringe of our
article; and we have therefore determined within ourselves to devote our
present essay to a serious discussion of the various pictures that are, or
_ought_, to decorate the interior of the new House of Commons. As for the
House of Lords, we see no necessity whatever for lavishing the fine
inspirations of art on that temple of wisdom; inasmuch as the sages who
deliberate there are, for the most part, born legislators, coming into the
world with all the rudiments of government in embryo in their baby heads,
and, on the twenty-first anniversary of their birthday, putting their legs
out of bed adult, full-grown law-makers. It would be the height of
democratic insolence to attempt to teach these chosen few: it would, in
fact, be a misprision of treason against the sovereignty of Nature, who,
when making the _pia mater_ of a future peer of England, knows very well
the delicate work she has in hand, and takes pains accordingly. It is
different when she manufactures a mob of skulls which, by a jumble of
worldly accidents, or by the satire of Fortune in her bitterest mood, may
ultimately belong to Members of the House of Commons. These she makes, as
they make blocks in Portsmouth-yard, a hundred a minute. All she has to do
is to fulfil her contract with the world, taking care that there shall be
no want of the raw material for Members of Parliament, leaving it to
Destiny to work it up as she may. We have not the slightest doubt,
by-the-by, that poor Nature is often very much confounded by the ultimate
application of her own handiwork. We can fancy the venerable old gossip at
her business, patting up skulls as serenely as our lamented great
grandmother (she wrote a very pretty book on the beauties of population,
and illustrated the work, too, with portraits from her own hand) was wont
to pat up apple-dumplings:--we can imagine Nature--good old soul!--looking
over her spectacles at the infant dough, and saying to herself as she
finishes skull by skull--"Ha! that will do for a pawnbroker;"--"That, as
it's rather low and narrow, for a sharp attorney;"--"That for a parish
constable;"--"That for a clown at a fair,"--and so on. And we can well
imagine the astonishment of simple-hearted old Nature on getting a ticket
for the gallery of the House of Commons (for very seldom, indeed, has she
been known to show herself on the floor), to see her skull of a pawnbroker
on the shoulders of a Chancellor of the Exchequer; her _caput_ of the
sharp attorney belonging to a Minister of the Home Department; her head of
a parish constable as a Paymaster of the Forces; and the dough she had
intended to swallow knives and eat fire at wakes and fairs gravely
responded to as "an honourable and gallant member!" Whereupon, who can
wonder at the amazement and indignation of Mother Nature, and that, with a
keen sense of the misapplication of her skulls, she sometimes abuses
Mother Fortune in good set terms, mingling with her reproaches the
strongest reflections on her chastity?
We have thought it due to the full consideration of our subject so far, to
dwell upon the natural difference between the skull of a Peer and the
skull of a Commoner. The skull of the noble, as we have shown, is a thing
made to order--fitted up, like Mr. MECHI'S pocket-dressing-case, with the
ornamental and useful: no instrument can be added to it--the thing is
complete. Hence, to employ historical painters for the education of the
House of Lords would be a useless and profligate expenditure of art and
money. It would be to paint the lily LONDONDERRY--to add a perfume to the
violet ELLENBOROUGH. All Peers being from the first--indeed, even _in
utero_--ordained law-makers, statute-making comes to them by nature. How
much history goes to prove this, showing that the House of Lords--like the
Solomons of the _fleur-de-lis_--have learned nothing, and forgotten
nothing! To attempt to instruct a Peer would be as gross an impertinence
to the instinct of his order as to present MINERVA--who no doubt came from
the head of JOVE a Peeress in her own right--with a toy alphabet or
horn-book.
For the skulls of the House of Commons,--that is, indeed, another
question! We are so far utilitarian that we would have the pictures for
which Mr. BARRY offers a thousand feet selected solely with a view to the
dissemination of knowledge amongst the many benighted members of the House
of Commons. We would have the subjects so chosen that they should entirely
supersede _Oldfield's Representative History_; never forgetting the wants
of the most illiterate. For instance, for the politicians on the fifth
form, the SIBTHORPS and PLUMPTRES, whose education in their youth has been
shamefully neglected, we would have a nice pictorial political alphabet.
We do not pride ourselves, be it understood, upon writing unwrinkled
verse; we only present the subjoined as a crude idea of our plan, taken we
confess, from certain variegated volumes, to be had either of Mr. SOUTER,
St. Paul's Churchyard, or Messrs. DARTON and HARVEY, Holborn.
A was King ALFRED, a monarch of note;
B is BURDETT, who can well turn a coat.
Here we would have the chief incidents of Alfred's life nicely painted,
with BURDETT, late Old Glory, and now Old Corruption. As for the poetry,
when we consider the capacities of the learners, _that_ cannot be too
simple, too homely. The House, however, may order a Committee of
Versification, if it please; all that we protest against is D'ISRAELI
being of the number.