Punch: Punch (17.1849)

54 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

OUR ANGLO-ITALIAN CLIMATE.

Somebody has been saying that during the very hot weather we were
favoured with an Italian sky, but we confess we never saw anything in
London to remind us much of Italy, except Italian irons, Oil and Italian
warehouses, Italian greyhounds, and those very unfortunate dogs, the
Italian organ boys. As to the Italian climate, we will undertake to be
whipped into an Italian cream, if any reasonable being could confound
our confounded atmosphere of London smoke with the transparent air
of Italy. Though Meux and Co. may consume their own, and we may
exclaim, " Tant mieux" we cannot forget that Barclay and Perkins,
with a thousand others, publish their daily volumes of smoke, in columns
almost as thick and heavy as those of the morning papers, when the
debates have been lengthy the preceding night in Parliament.

THE COYES OF CORK.

Cork appears to be in a state almost equal to that which would be
occasioned by the pressure of ginger beer, champagne, or soda-water,
whose effervescence acting upon Cork might produce just such an effect
as that which Cork itself and all the Coves of Cork are at this moment
encountering.

Every loyal subject will imagine that it is the exuberance of delight
at the Queen's visit which has given so much buoyancy to Cork, but
the truth is, that the excitement originates in a dispute between the
.Mayor and the High Sheriff, as to the right of one or other, or both, to
immediately precede Her Majesty on her entrance into the City. The
Mayor has rendered himself hoarse in insisting on his privilege, and the
High Sheriff is equally vehement, on the strength of an old ancestor,
who was standard-bearer in Ireland to Henry the Second.

It is difficult to work out the calculation, that "As the standard-
bearer was to Henry the Second, so is the High Sheriff to Queen
Victoria," but we leave the matter to be settled by the ingenious Coves
of Cork, among whom we understand there is one who wears a watch
presented to him by William at the Boyne, and who claims the honour
of letting Her Majesty know the " time of day," during the whole of
her sojourn in Ireland. It is added that the dispute between the Sheriff
and the Mayor has been referred to the proper office in London, where
we understand arrangements have been made for " tossing up," to decide
the knotty point, as soon as the necessary halfpenny can be remitted
for the purpose from the Treasury.

The Gibbet-Cure.

It may seem astonishing that there should exist, in this nineteenth
century, such folly as that instanced in the following paragraph, ex-
tracted from the Boston Herald:—

" Superstition.—On Friday last a respectable looking female, afflicted with a wen
in the neck, applied at Lincoln Castle, after the execution of Waed, for leave to. see
the body, with a view of curing her disease ; the request was very properly refused."

It may, however, be questioned whether a man hanged is not as
likely to remove a wen as to put an end to murder. The remedy has
jeen long enough tried for the latter complaint; but without success.

ALARMING PROSPECTS OP THE BRITISH DRAMA.

In consequence of the dreadful destitution of all the French theatres
—an affecting account of their closed and beggared condition has
appeared in the newspapers—a meeting of gentlemen mafevially inte-
rested in the support and prosperity of the English drama, was convoked
for yesterday at the Cock and Bottle in the Strand, and was very
numerously attended by nearly all the English translators of the day.
A strong body of police was in waiting to ensure propriety and probity,
it having been intimated that several of the swell mob had been seen in
the neighbourhood.

The chair was taken by Mb,. Cuambaud Jones—justly known as the
father of the Translated English Drama—who briefly opened the pro-
ceedings. In a nervous and imaginative speech of five minutes, the
chairman went to ihe root of the matter. Something, he said, must be
done to restore the French Stage, or the English Theatre would fall
for ever.

Mr. Levizac Brown moved the first resolution. He observed that
more than thirty years had made the English and the French Dramatist,
he would say it, like Siamese twins. The Channel was—it might seem
a paradox—their band of union ; for by its means the circulation of ink
(though, to be sure, it only flowed from France) was kept up between
them. If the French Theatre died, the vital fluid must run dry in the
breast of the English Thalia. (Cheers.)

Mr. Beaumarchais Green, in seconding the resolution, said he
would make the matter plain to the meanest understanding. The
French stage was the New River ; the English Theatre was the cistern,
lined with lead. Now, dam the New River,—and how are you to
supply the cistern ? It was impossible ! {Cheers.)

Mr. Boy'er Smith moved the second resolution ; and would illustrate
the matter—as he thought—rather felicitously. The French stage was
a tree—the English stage a noble bough of that tree. Bark the parent
trunk, and—yes, he was bold enough to ask it—what would become of
your bough ? He was not an alarmist, but unless something was done, j
he predicted that next winter every English theatre would be knocked
down by the hammer,—sold off in lots !—for firewood.

Mr. Moliere Johnson (in seconding the resolution) said he thought
he could bring the matter much nearer to their business and bosoms,
"You want," said Mr. Moliere Johnson, "Tou want a bottle of
prime Burgundy. Well, the bottle is before you, and you are about to
empty it into an English jug. Very good. The bottle has received a
crack, and not a drop of wine remains. Now, the wine being gone from
the bottle, what is to fill your jug? Nothing—it remains empty:
totally empty. And this, I say, will be the speedy condition of every
London Theatre. The Paris Bottle being broken, the English Jug
cannot be filled." {Loud cheers) It had been for many, many years his
custom to visit Paris Theatres for playhouse fashions ; but this season he
must stop at home. Let the present state of French Theatres continue,
and they might all—as speedily as they would—dispose of their Dic-
tionaries, to say nothing at all of their Grammars.

Here a conversation—a little irregular certainly—ensued. One of
the meeting asked, " why confine themselves to France ? Why, always
take so near a translation ? " Another exclaimed that "China might
be tried." A third that "there must be something amongst the
Japanese." It was, however, finally decided—in accordance with the
resolutions—"that a subscription should be opened for the re-establish-
ment of the French Stage, as the only means of supplying dramas to
the English Theatre."

Punch Puzzled.

We are not in the habit of asking questions, because we are not in
the habit of finding anything that answers half as well as we do ourselves,
but we have really been puzzled by reading a report in the Times of the
trial of a man for " the illegal conversion of a horse." We should be
glad to know what it was to which the horse was illegally made a
convert ? how the ceremony of conversion was performed ? and how the
success of the ceremony was recognised ?

We remember upon one occasion converting a fifty-pound note into a
clever cob, who was too clever by half for us, and who was accordingly
converted back again into seven sovereigns, but as to any other kind of
conversion of which a horse is capable, we admit ourselves to be wholly
ignorant.

fire engines superseded.

We observe that a book is advertised under the title of " Homoeopathy
in Acute Diseases." If homoeopathic globules will cure inflammations,
perhaps an infinitesimal drop of water will put out a fire.