DOI issue:
July to December, 1847
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16545#0211
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
199
THE LONDON WEATHER.
The public ought to be very much obliged to those patient and
ingenious gentlemen who make a point of watching every variation in
the London weather, and sending an account of it to the newspapers.
We purpose adding to our establishment a gentleman whose duty it
will be to dot down the fluctuations of heat and cold, by a careful
reference to the tips of his fingers, the points of his toes, and the end
of his nose. Our own observations in this line have not been satisfac-
tory, though we have remarked that the mean quantity of rain, upon an
average of five years, has given us an inch and a half in our umbrella-
stand as the highest extreme. From a series "r twenty yawns against
our drawing-room window, we have made me deduction that the
humidity in the atmosphere applied to a surface of sixteen
superficial barleycorns, and we thus get nineteen barleycorns, minus TV,
to every pane.
TRILLS EOR TERM-TIME.
How sweet 'tis to stroll by the streams of Demurrer,
Where Detinue sighs to the evening breeze ;
Where groves of Mandamus are mellowed in colour,
And high soar the Costs in Exchequer of Pleas !
'Tis there that the sisters Assumpsit and Trover
Disport with the Mortgages sitting in banc,
While around the fierce Chattels and Cognizance hover,
And Rejoinders gnash rage as their fetters they clank.
Dark Venue broods there, 'mid the bleak Certiorari,
The coo of the distant Avowry is heard ;
But the sprightly Malfeazance trips light as a fairy,
With the mild Surrebutter and Judgment Deferred.
Oh, 'tis there I would muse, and I'd dream of Assizes,
And feast on ripe Codicil and Assignee ;
Or, soothed by the strains of the dulcet Demises,
I'd quaft' foaming goblets of Felo-de-se.
Double Site.
The Marble Arch of Buckingham Palace is upon the hands of the
public, and the public, like an old gentleman who lias been given a baby
to hold, does not know what to do with it. We propose, as it is impos-
sible to have too much of a good thing, to put the arch on the top of
the arch at Hyde Park Corner; for, being the smaller ot the two, it will
easily stand there—and then to put the Duke's Statue at the top of
them both. This would be combining a point of site and distance too.
The thing is worth trying, if " only for the fun of the thing," and our
embellishments seem to be erected for no other purpose. There would
be also this advantage in making the experiment—when once it was
up, it would never come down. We expect the Commissioners for the
Improvement of the Metropolis will do it therefore next week.
AIR-CANNON EXTRAORDINARY.
The Eco del Comercio, a Spanish newspaper, has published a petition
from a M. de Montemayor to the Queen of Spain, setting forth that
he has discovered the means of aerial navigation in a new species of
balloon which he has invented, and which he calls an JHuh/s. By the
aid of this contrivance, he assures Her Majesty that with somewhat
less than 15,000 piastres, he can take up with him two pieces of cannon,
and discharge them on the enemies of Spain. But cannon in the air,
we should think, can only be mounted on castles in the same situation;
and we suspect that the invention of Don Montemayor is one of the
various Chateaux en Espagne. The truth probably is, that JEolus is
meant to raise the wind—to the extent of 15,000 piastres.
An Apology.
We stated last week, on the confidence of " A Sincere Friend,"
that the hoarding had been taken away from the Nelson Column. It
seems it still remains. Our readers must excuse this ignorance on our
part; but, as we make it a principle never to pass through Trafalgar
Square, owing to the violent effect the sight has upon our nerves, as a
passionate lover of Art, " A Sincere Friend" succeeded easily enough
in playing the above malicious hoax upon us. We do not envy him his
triumph. The man who would joke upon the Nelson Column must
indeed be a Monster in Human Form. We should \jts sorry to trust that
man with one of our children, or even sixpence.
THE LABOURS OT JULLIEN.
ho has not witnessed the Herculean exer-
tions of Jullien in the British Army and
Navy Quadrilles ? His arms and legs
seem to be carrying out bodily the different
movements of the opposing corps, and his
baton falls at times with sucii overwhelming
force that we picture to ourselves some
mighty seventy-four has sunk under its
tremendous waive. We have often felt
for Jullien in such active moments, when
he has been throwing his whole body and
two soles of his boots into Cavalier Seul,
or warming himself up to a beautiful state
of frenzy through L'Ete. He is all fire,
h>r&[i > •■• tKr when suddenly a shrill note from the for-
* •• getful fife chills him all over, and makes
him turn round and dart a look that conveys
an avalanche of reproof upon the head of the
offending instrument. A note too low
from a violin, or semi-demi-quaver too high from the trombone, recals
him from the heights of musical grandeur, and brings him back in a
moment from the Bay of Biscay O, to Drury Lane. Jullien, when so
disturbed, cannot speak ; his voice would not be heard, for the musical
tempest is raging too high: so he borrows a hint from the lightning
conductor, and is silent, asserting himself with a most vivid stroke
on his pulpit, which flashes through the whole musical horizon.
These strokes are often repeated, and then the clamour grows
stronger—the ophicleides blow their loudest, the cornet shrieks, the
fife whistles, the drum bellows—and Chaos reigns in the orchestra!
Jullien then goes through his popular series of Poses Plustiques. He
turns to the right and to the left—his curly head whirls round and
round, spreading fright in every direction—his legs rise convulsively—
his arms beat the air, in the absence of some victim on whom to vent
their fury : he illustrates in every limb Collins's Ode on the Passions,
till at last he sinks into his fauteuil, the horrible picture of Despair.
These Pythonic inspirations must convulse Jullien's nature terribly,
and must, if the shocks are repeated, leave him in time a perfect
wreck. Wc shall have the white kid gloves, it is true, and the
cambric frill, and the wristbands as spotless as Rowland's Kalydor;
but what will they be without the man ¥ We beg, therefore, to propose
a remedv, which may save us Jullien for many, many years to come.
We propose that lie have a corps of aide-de-camps stationed around
his position. They should convey his instructions to the different wings
of the orchestra. " If the triangle did not advance sufficiently quick, an
aide-de-camp should be dispatched to him, with orders to step out a little
quicker. If the ophicleide came out a little too strong, another aide-de-
camp should be sent to him, with a request to retreat rapidly, and fall back
behind the piccolo. These musical officers would ease Jullien of the
heavier part of his labours, and spare the public the painful sight of a
conductor brow-beating—for it is a curious fact, which should be
noticed, that Jullien's brows beat time beautifully—his grand army
of instruments around him.
City Economy.
Lord Mayor's Day and Guy Fawkes' Day succeed each other so
rapidlv, that we think one dav might really suffice for the two. There
would be no difficulty in finding a good Guv—considering the number
of Common Council men—and the Lord Mayor's carnage would add
considerably to the absurdity of the occasion. This would be a happy
combination of fun and solemnity, which would make the shopkeepers
011 Ludgate Hill and Cheapside less likely to complain of the suspen-
sion of their business on the 9th of November, merely to witness a
cavalcade which Astley's would be ashamed of. It the opening of
Parliament could be joined to the above amusements, all London would
close its shutters for the day, to witness such a concentration of
absurdities. Such an august—or rather November—ceremony would
remind us of the " ryghte merrie sporttes of ye Merrie Englande."
a queer query.
A Correspondent, whose name we have no wish to learn, inquires
whether it is not, perfectly natural that Berne (the wretch writes ii;
Burn) should set the whole of Switzerland in a blaze ?
omnibus literature.
An Omnibus Conductor on the Hammersmith Road, who is given a
little to literature, (and who is not, now-a-days ?) calls the two monster
houses at the Albert Gate, " Stories without an End."
199
THE LONDON WEATHER.
The public ought to be very much obliged to those patient and
ingenious gentlemen who make a point of watching every variation in
the London weather, and sending an account of it to the newspapers.
We purpose adding to our establishment a gentleman whose duty it
will be to dot down the fluctuations of heat and cold, by a careful
reference to the tips of his fingers, the points of his toes, and the end
of his nose. Our own observations in this line have not been satisfac-
tory, though we have remarked that the mean quantity of rain, upon an
average of five years, has given us an inch and a half in our umbrella-
stand as the highest extreme. From a series "r twenty yawns against
our drawing-room window, we have made me deduction that the
humidity in the atmosphere applied to a surface of sixteen
superficial barleycorns, and we thus get nineteen barleycorns, minus TV,
to every pane.
TRILLS EOR TERM-TIME.
How sweet 'tis to stroll by the streams of Demurrer,
Where Detinue sighs to the evening breeze ;
Where groves of Mandamus are mellowed in colour,
And high soar the Costs in Exchequer of Pleas !
'Tis there that the sisters Assumpsit and Trover
Disport with the Mortgages sitting in banc,
While around the fierce Chattels and Cognizance hover,
And Rejoinders gnash rage as their fetters they clank.
Dark Venue broods there, 'mid the bleak Certiorari,
The coo of the distant Avowry is heard ;
But the sprightly Malfeazance trips light as a fairy,
With the mild Surrebutter and Judgment Deferred.
Oh, 'tis there I would muse, and I'd dream of Assizes,
And feast on ripe Codicil and Assignee ;
Or, soothed by the strains of the dulcet Demises,
I'd quaft' foaming goblets of Felo-de-se.
Double Site.
The Marble Arch of Buckingham Palace is upon the hands of the
public, and the public, like an old gentleman who lias been given a baby
to hold, does not know what to do with it. We propose, as it is impos-
sible to have too much of a good thing, to put the arch on the top of
the arch at Hyde Park Corner; for, being the smaller ot the two, it will
easily stand there—and then to put the Duke's Statue at the top of
them both. This would be combining a point of site and distance too.
The thing is worth trying, if " only for the fun of the thing," and our
embellishments seem to be erected for no other purpose. There would
be also this advantage in making the experiment—when once it was
up, it would never come down. We expect the Commissioners for the
Improvement of the Metropolis will do it therefore next week.
AIR-CANNON EXTRAORDINARY.
The Eco del Comercio, a Spanish newspaper, has published a petition
from a M. de Montemayor to the Queen of Spain, setting forth that
he has discovered the means of aerial navigation in a new species of
balloon which he has invented, and which he calls an JHuh/s. By the
aid of this contrivance, he assures Her Majesty that with somewhat
less than 15,000 piastres, he can take up with him two pieces of cannon,
and discharge them on the enemies of Spain. But cannon in the air,
we should think, can only be mounted on castles in the same situation;
and we suspect that the invention of Don Montemayor is one of the
various Chateaux en Espagne. The truth probably is, that JEolus is
meant to raise the wind—to the extent of 15,000 piastres.
An Apology.
We stated last week, on the confidence of " A Sincere Friend,"
that the hoarding had been taken away from the Nelson Column. It
seems it still remains. Our readers must excuse this ignorance on our
part; but, as we make it a principle never to pass through Trafalgar
Square, owing to the violent effect the sight has upon our nerves, as a
passionate lover of Art, " A Sincere Friend" succeeded easily enough
in playing the above malicious hoax upon us. We do not envy him his
triumph. The man who would joke upon the Nelson Column must
indeed be a Monster in Human Form. We should \jts sorry to trust that
man with one of our children, or even sixpence.
THE LABOURS OT JULLIEN.
ho has not witnessed the Herculean exer-
tions of Jullien in the British Army and
Navy Quadrilles ? His arms and legs
seem to be carrying out bodily the different
movements of the opposing corps, and his
baton falls at times with sucii overwhelming
force that we picture to ourselves some
mighty seventy-four has sunk under its
tremendous waive. We have often felt
for Jullien in such active moments, when
he has been throwing his whole body and
two soles of his boots into Cavalier Seul,
or warming himself up to a beautiful state
of frenzy through L'Ete. He is all fire,
h>r&[i > •■• tKr when suddenly a shrill note from the for-
* •• getful fife chills him all over, and makes
him turn round and dart a look that conveys
an avalanche of reproof upon the head of the
offending instrument. A note too low
from a violin, or semi-demi-quaver too high from the trombone, recals
him from the heights of musical grandeur, and brings him back in a
moment from the Bay of Biscay O, to Drury Lane. Jullien, when so
disturbed, cannot speak ; his voice would not be heard, for the musical
tempest is raging too high: so he borrows a hint from the lightning
conductor, and is silent, asserting himself with a most vivid stroke
on his pulpit, which flashes through the whole musical horizon.
These strokes are often repeated, and then the clamour grows
stronger—the ophicleides blow their loudest, the cornet shrieks, the
fife whistles, the drum bellows—and Chaos reigns in the orchestra!
Jullien then goes through his popular series of Poses Plustiques. He
turns to the right and to the left—his curly head whirls round and
round, spreading fright in every direction—his legs rise convulsively—
his arms beat the air, in the absence of some victim on whom to vent
their fury : he illustrates in every limb Collins's Ode on the Passions,
till at last he sinks into his fauteuil, the horrible picture of Despair.
These Pythonic inspirations must convulse Jullien's nature terribly,
and must, if the shocks are repeated, leave him in time a perfect
wreck. Wc shall have the white kid gloves, it is true, and the
cambric frill, and the wristbands as spotless as Rowland's Kalydor;
but what will they be without the man ¥ We beg, therefore, to propose
a remedv, which may save us Jullien for many, many years to come.
We propose that lie have a corps of aide-de-camps stationed around
his position. They should convey his instructions to the different wings
of the orchestra. " If the triangle did not advance sufficiently quick, an
aide-de-camp should be dispatched to him, with orders to step out a little
quicker. If the ophicleide came out a little too strong, another aide-de-
camp should be sent to him, with a request to retreat rapidly, and fall back
behind the piccolo. These musical officers would ease Jullien of the
heavier part of his labours, and spare the public the painful sight of a
conductor brow-beating—for it is a curious fact, which should be
noticed, that Jullien's brows beat time beautifully—his grand army
of instruments around him.
City Economy.
Lord Mayor's Day and Guy Fawkes' Day succeed each other so
rapidlv, that we think one dav might really suffice for the two. There
would be no difficulty in finding a good Guv—considering the number
of Common Council men—and the Lord Mayor's carnage would add
considerably to the absurdity of the occasion. This would be a happy
combination of fun and solemnity, which would make the shopkeepers
011 Ludgate Hill and Cheapside less likely to complain of the suspen-
sion of their business on the 9th of November, merely to witness a
cavalcade which Astley's would be ashamed of. It the opening of
Parliament could be joined to the above amusements, all London would
close its shutters for the day, to witness such a concentration of
absurdities. Such an august—or rather November—ceremony would
remind us of the " ryghte merrie sporttes of ye Merrie Englande."
a queer query.
A Correspondent, whose name we have no wish to learn, inquires
whether it is not, perfectly natural that Berne (the wretch writes ii;
Burn) should set the whole of Switzerland in a blaze ?
omnibus literature.
An Omnibus Conductor on the Hammersmith Road, who is given a
little to literature, (and who is not, now-a-days ?) calls the two monster
houses at the Albert Gate, " Stories without an End."