DOI issue:
January to June, 1845
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16521#0057
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ^
PUNCH IN THE EAST.
by our fat contributor.
IV.—PUNCH AT THE PYRAMIDS.
The 19th day of October, 1844 (the seventh day of the month Hudj-
mudj, and the 1229th year of the Mohammedan Hejira, corresponding with
the 16,769th anniversary of the 48th incarnation of Veeshnoo), is a day
that ought hereafter to be considered eternally famous in the climes of
the East and West. I forget what was the day of General Bonaparte's
battle of the Pyramids ; I think it was in the month Quintidi of the year
Nivose of the French Republic, and he told his soldiers that forty centuries
looked down upon them from the summit of those buildings—a statement
which I very much doubt. But I say the 19th day of October, 1844,
is the most important era in the modern world's history. It unites the
modern with the ancient civilisation ; it couples the brethren of Watt and
Cobden with the dusky family of Pharaoh and Sesostris ; it fuses
Herodotus with Thomas Babington Macaulay ; it intertwines the piston
•of the blond Anglo-Saxon steam-engine with the Needle of the Abyssinian
Cleopatra ; it weds the tunnel of the subaqueous Brunel with the mystic
edifice of Cheops. Strange play of wayward fancy ! Ascending the
Pyramid, I could not but think of Waterloo Bridge in my dear native
London—a building as vast and as magnificent, as beautiful, as useless, and
as lonely. Forty centuries have not as yet passed over the latter structure,
'tis true ; scarcely an equal number of hackney-coaches have crossed it.
But I doubt whether the individuals who contributed to raise it are likely
to receive a better dividend for their capital than the swarthy share-
holders in the Pyramid speculation, whose dust has long since been
trampled over by countless generations of their sons.
If I use in the above sentence the longest words I can find, it is because
the occasion is great and demands the finest phrases the dictionary can
Bupply ; it is because I have not read Tom Macaulay in vain ; it is because
I wish to show I am a dab in history, as the above dates will testify ; it is
because I have seen the Reverend Mr. Milman preach in a black gown
at Saint Margaret's, whereas at the Corouation he wore a gold cope. The
19th of October was Punch's Coronation ; I officiated at the august cere-
mony. To be brief—as illiterate readers may not understand a syllable
■of the above piece of ornamental eloquence—on the 19th of October,
1844,1 pasted the great placard of Punch on the Pyramid of Cheops.
I did it. The Fat Contributor did it. If I die, it could not be undone.
If I perish, I have not lived in vain.
If the forty centuries are on the summit of the Pyramids, as Bonaparte
remarks, all I can say is, / did not see them. But Punch has really been
there ; this 1 swear. One placard I pasted on the first landing-place (who
■knows how long Arab rapacity will respect the sacred hieroglyphic?). One
I placed under a great stone on the summit ; one I waved in air, as my
Arabs raised a mighty cheer round the peaceful victorious banner ; and I
flung it towards the sky, which the Pyramid almost touches, and left it to
its fate, to mount into the azure vault and take its place among the con-
stellations ; to light on the eternal Desert, and mingle with its golden
sands ; or to flutter and drop into the purple waters of the neighbouring
Nile, to swell its fructifying inundations, and mingle with the rich vivifying
; influence which shoots into the tall palm-trees on its banks, and generates
the waving corn.
I wonder were there any signs or omens in London when that event
occurred ? Did an earthquake take place? Did Stocks or the Barometer
preternaturally rise or fall ? It matters little. Let it suffice that the
thing has been done, and forms an event in History by the side of those
other facts to which these prodigious monuments bear testimony. Now
to narrate briefly the circumstances of the day.
On Thursday, October 17, I caused my dragoman to purchase in the
Frank bazaar at Grand
Cairo the following articles,
which will be placed in the
Museum on my return.
A is a tin pot holding
about a pint, and to contain
B, a packet of flour (which
of course is not visible, as
it is tied up in brown
paper), and C, a pig-skin
brush of the sort commonly
used in Europe—the whole
costing about 5 piastres, or
one shilling sterling. They
were all the implements needful for this tremendous undertaking.
Horses of the Mosaic Arab breed, I mean those animals called Jeru-
salem ponies by some in England, by others denominated donkeys, are the
common means of transport employed by the subjects of Mehemet Ali.
iiy excellent friend Bucksheesh Pasha would have mounted me either
on his favourite horse, or his best dromedary. But I declined those prof-
fer!- -if I fall, I like better to fall from a short distance than a high one._
I have tried tumbling in both ways, and recommend the latter as by far
the pleasantest and safest. I chose the Mosaic Arab then—one for the
dragoman, one for the requisites of refreshment, and two for myself—not
that I proposed to ride two at once, but a person of a certain dimension
had best have a couple of animals in case of accident.
I left Cairo on the afternoon of October 18, never hinting to a single
person the mighty purpose of my journey. The waters were out, and we
had to cross them thrice—twice in track-boats, once on the shoulder* of
abominable Arabs,
who take a pleasure in slipping and in making believe to plunge you in
the stream. When in the midst of it, the brutes stop and demand money
of you—you are alarmed, the savages may drop you if you do not give—
you promise that you will do so. The half-naked ruffians who conduct
you up the Pyramid, when they have got you panting to the most steep,
dangerous, and lonely stone, make the same demand, pointing downwards
while they beg, as if they would fling you in that direction on refusal.
As soon as you have breath, you promise more money—it is the best way
— you are a fool if you give it when you come down.
The journey I find briefly set down in my pocket-book as thus: — Cairo-
Gardens—Mosquitoes—Women dressed in blue—Children dressed in
nothing—Old Cairo—Nile, dirty water, ferry-boat—Town—Palm-trees,
ferry-boat, canal, palm-trees, town—Rice-fields—Maize-fields—Fellows on
dromedaries—Donkey down—Over his head—Pick up pieces—More
palm-trees—More rice-fields—Water-courses—Howling Arabs—Donkey
tumble down again—Inundations—Herons or cranes—Broken bridges-
Sands—Pyramids.—If a man cannot make a landscape out of that he has
no imagination. Let him paint the skies very blue—the sands very
yellow—the plains very flat and green—the dromedaries and palm-trees
very tall—the women very brown, some with veils, some with nose-rings,
some tattooed, and none with stays—and the picture is complete. You
may shut your eyes and fancy yourself there. It is the pleasantest way,
en ire nous.
The Crusade against the Apple Women.
It will have been seen by the papers that the extermination of the
Strand apple-women has been resolved upon, and the result is, that they
are being driven " up the country " by the police, something in the same
style as the red men were hurried into the far west by the American
emigrants. Sergeant Z., accompanied by his staff, marched down from
the heights of Southampton-street, and surprised a file of basketiers, who
fled with a loss of twenty-four Ribstone pippins, and six nonpareils. Three
Seville oranges also fell in the affray, and were picked up by some loiterers,
who having got them into quarters, cruelly made away with them. On
the side of the police there was a loss of a button from the coat and
twenty minutes—being the time occupied in the achievement.
PRESENT OF FRUIT TO THE LORD MAYOR.
The Fruiterers' Company presented a large quantity of fruit to the
Lord Mayor, consisting chiefly of apples. One of the deputation neatly
observed, that the fruit was intended to furnish an abundance of apple-
sauce for the goose of which his Lordship had partaken so plentifully on
Lord Mayor's Day. The Lord Mayor smiled, and the deputation bo'wec1
a.nd retired.
PUNCH IN THE EAST.
by our fat contributor.
IV.—PUNCH AT THE PYRAMIDS.
The 19th day of October, 1844 (the seventh day of the month Hudj-
mudj, and the 1229th year of the Mohammedan Hejira, corresponding with
the 16,769th anniversary of the 48th incarnation of Veeshnoo), is a day
that ought hereafter to be considered eternally famous in the climes of
the East and West. I forget what was the day of General Bonaparte's
battle of the Pyramids ; I think it was in the month Quintidi of the year
Nivose of the French Republic, and he told his soldiers that forty centuries
looked down upon them from the summit of those buildings—a statement
which I very much doubt. But I say the 19th day of October, 1844,
is the most important era in the modern world's history. It unites the
modern with the ancient civilisation ; it couples the brethren of Watt and
Cobden with the dusky family of Pharaoh and Sesostris ; it fuses
Herodotus with Thomas Babington Macaulay ; it intertwines the piston
•of the blond Anglo-Saxon steam-engine with the Needle of the Abyssinian
Cleopatra ; it weds the tunnel of the subaqueous Brunel with the mystic
edifice of Cheops. Strange play of wayward fancy ! Ascending the
Pyramid, I could not but think of Waterloo Bridge in my dear native
London—a building as vast and as magnificent, as beautiful, as useless, and
as lonely. Forty centuries have not as yet passed over the latter structure,
'tis true ; scarcely an equal number of hackney-coaches have crossed it.
But I doubt whether the individuals who contributed to raise it are likely
to receive a better dividend for their capital than the swarthy share-
holders in the Pyramid speculation, whose dust has long since been
trampled over by countless generations of their sons.
If I use in the above sentence the longest words I can find, it is because
the occasion is great and demands the finest phrases the dictionary can
Bupply ; it is because I have not read Tom Macaulay in vain ; it is because
I wish to show I am a dab in history, as the above dates will testify ; it is
because I have seen the Reverend Mr. Milman preach in a black gown
at Saint Margaret's, whereas at the Corouation he wore a gold cope. The
19th of October was Punch's Coronation ; I officiated at the august cere-
mony. To be brief—as illiterate readers may not understand a syllable
■of the above piece of ornamental eloquence—on the 19th of October,
1844,1 pasted the great placard of Punch on the Pyramid of Cheops.
I did it. The Fat Contributor did it. If I die, it could not be undone.
If I perish, I have not lived in vain.
If the forty centuries are on the summit of the Pyramids, as Bonaparte
remarks, all I can say is, / did not see them. But Punch has really been
there ; this 1 swear. One placard I pasted on the first landing-place (who
■knows how long Arab rapacity will respect the sacred hieroglyphic?). One
I placed under a great stone on the summit ; one I waved in air, as my
Arabs raised a mighty cheer round the peaceful victorious banner ; and I
flung it towards the sky, which the Pyramid almost touches, and left it to
its fate, to mount into the azure vault and take its place among the con-
stellations ; to light on the eternal Desert, and mingle with its golden
sands ; or to flutter and drop into the purple waters of the neighbouring
Nile, to swell its fructifying inundations, and mingle with the rich vivifying
; influence which shoots into the tall palm-trees on its banks, and generates
the waving corn.
I wonder were there any signs or omens in London when that event
occurred ? Did an earthquake take place? Did Stocks or the Barometer
preternaturally rise or fall ? It matters little. Let it suffice that the
thing has been done, and forms an event in History by the side of those
other facts to which these prodigious monuments bear testimony. Now
to narrate briefly the circumstances of the day.
On Thursday, October 17, I caused my dragoman to purchase in the
Frank bazaar at Grand
Cairo the following articles,
which will be placed in the
Museum on my return.
A is a tin pot holding
about a pint, and to contain
B, a packet of flour (which
of course is not visible, as
it is tied up in brown
paper), and C, a pig-skin
brush of the sort commonly
used in Europe—the whole
costing about 5 piastres, or
one shilling sterling. They
were all the implements needful for this tremendous undertaking.
Horses of the Mosaic Arab breed, I mean those animals called Jeru-
salem ponies by some in England, by others denominated donkeys, are the
common means of transport employed by the subjects of Mehemet Ali.
iiy excellent friend Bucksheesh Pasha would have mounted me either
on his favourite horse, or his best dromedary. But I declined those prof-
fer!- -if I fall, I like better to fall from a short distance than a high one._
I have tried tumbling in both ways, and recommend the latter as by far
the pleasantest and safest. I chose the Mosaic Arab then—one for the
dragoman, one for the requisites of refreshment, and two for myself—not
that I proposed to ride two at once, but a person of a certain dimension
had best have a couple of animals in case of accident.
I left Cairo on the afternoon of October 18, never hinting to a single
person the mighty purpose of my journey. The waters were out, and we
had to cross them thrice—twice in track-boats, once on the shoulder* of
abominable Arabs,
who take a pleasure in slipping and in making believe to plunge you in
the stream. When in the midst of it, the brutes stop and demand money
of you—you are alarmed, the savages may drop you if you do not give—
you promise that you will do so. The half-naked ruffians who conduct
you up the Pyramid, when they have got you panting to the most steep,
dangerous, and lonely stone, make the same demand, pointing downwards
while they beg, as if they would fling you in that direction on refusal.
As soon as you have breath, you promise more money—it is the best way
— you are a fool if you give it when you come down.
The journey I find briefly set down in my pocket-book as thus: — Cairo-
Gardens—Mosquitoes—Women dressed in blue—Children dressed in
nothing—Old Cairo—Nile, dirty water, ferry-boat—Town—Palm-trees,
ferry-boat, canal, palm-trees, town—Rice-fields—Maize-fields—Fellows on
dromedaries—Donkey down—Over his head—Pick up pieces—More
palm-trees—More rice-fields—Water-courses—Howling Arabs—Donkey
tumble down again—Inundations—Herons or cranes—Broken bridges-
Sands—Pyramids.—If a man cannot make a landscape out of that he has
no imagination. Let him paint the skies very blue—the sands very
yellow—the plains very flat and green—the dromedaries and palm-trees
very tall—the women very brown, some with veils, some with nose-rings,
some tattooed, and none with stays—and the picture is complete. You
may shut your eyes and fancy yourself there. It is the pleasantest way,
en ire nous.
The Crusade against the Apple Women.
It will have been seen by the papers that the extermination of the
Strand apple-women has been resolved upon, and the result is, that they
are being driven " up the country " by the police, something in the same
style as the red men were hurried into the far west by the American
emigrants. Sergeant Z., accompanied by his staff, marched down from
the heights of Southampton-street, and surprised a file of basketiers, who
fled with a loss of twenty-four Ribstone pippins, and six nonpareils. Three
Seville oranges also fell in the affray, and were picked up by some loiterers,
who having got them into quarters, cruelly made away with them. On
the side of the police there was a loss of a button from the coat and
twenty minutes—being the time occupied in the achievement.
PRESENT OF FRUIT TO THE LORD MAYOR.
The Fruiterers' Company presented a large quantity of fruit to the
Lord Mayor, consisting chiefly of apples. One of the deputation neatly
observed, that the fruit was intended to furnish an abundance of apple-
sauce for the goose of which his Lordship had partaken so plentifully on
Lord Mayor's Day. The Lord Mayor smiled, and the deputation bo'wec1
a.nd retired.