DOI issue:
January to June, 1848
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16546#0064
56
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
THE COMING COMET.
here are few
of our readers
aware that
a Comet is
going to visit
us this year.
He has been
due ever since
155C. What
lie has been
doing since
that period,
our Adams
and Lever-
riers do not
tell us. He
mu3t be very slow in travelling, and we always thought that Comets
came quicker than grey hairs or railway misfortunes. Probably he has
been talcing the round of the zodiac, stopping at every sign, and enjoying
himself at every astrological house where there was a drop or a cloud to
be had. However, he is on the road at last, and we are to expect him
some time this year, though we are not told the precise month. This
is awkward, for we should adapt our clothing accordingly; for who
would wish to receive a Comet in a great-coat ? As for ourselves, if he
does come, we think we had rather that he dropt in upon us in winter
than in summer. This cold weather is just the thing for him. We
might dispense with coals, and butchers would be able to sell their
joints ready cooked; but a Comet in the dog-davs really would be
a little too much. Persons would be flocking to Vesuvius for a cool
spot; salamanders even would complain of the heat; and the Oriental
Club would be obliged to dispense with its usual allowance of Cayenne
pepper.
It seems that this great Comet is to be the avant-covner to announce
the arrival of some tremendous person. He is only a special engine
sent on in advance to tell us to look out for a long train of events more
or less filled with accidents. We do not believe a word of this; the
same thing was said of the " Coming Man." He was to set all Europe
in a blaze, and yet his shadow has not been seen up to the present
moment, though the longest-sighted politicians have been looking out
for him for years with their mental telescopes, and advertising and
shouting for him everywhere. It will be time enough to run when the
Comet comes, like Lord Ellesmere when the Erench invade us—till
then, we shall believe in the one as much as the other.
If the Comet stops amongst us, we hope to goodness he will take
up his residence in Trafalgar Square. We know of no better place
for him. He could quench his thirst with the two little basins—just
a sip, a nice morning drain for him—and he could exercise himself
by running up and down the Kelson Column. It would be refreshing,
also, to see how much the place was improved after his visit. In this
way the Comet may turn out to be the greatest architect London has
ever had since the Great Eire of London. If he comes in this light
we will be the first to shout Welcome! and to hold up his tail. Till
this happy advent, we promise to keep an eye, mental as well as bodily,
upon his movements, and to give our readers the very earliest informa-
tion of his expected arrival, besides a long Catalogue Raixonnee of what
the Comet will do, and what he will not do. In the mean time, we do
not mind saying—"Louis-Philippe, beware !"
INGLIS-CHURCH-CONSTITUTION.
We were surprised and more than equally delighted, on the re-
assembling of Parliament, to see Sir Robert Inglis in the enjoyment
of excellent health. We had been led to expect the reverse. It was
currently reported among the Clubs (where do people expect to go
who circulate such rumours ?) that Sir Robert was so oppressed bv the
conviction that the Church was gone the moment a Jew trod the floor
of the Commons, that his frank and happy spirits had sunk, and his
health visibly declined. With the full belief that the Church wa8
annihilated, and that the earth would open somewhere near the
Minories—so soon as Baron Rothschild should take his seat—it was
confidently reported that Sir Robert had refused all food (save and
except the thinnest ham sandwich per diem), in the conviction that
England was no longer worth living in. Another rumour declared
that Sir Robert's batter had received orders to fit the worthy baronet's
beaver with a small bag of ashes; and another averred that Sir
Robert's tailor had measured him for a s nit of sackcloth, with a fancy
horse-hair waistcoat!
What is our happiness, then, to give these more than idle, these malig-
nant reports, the most vehement contradiction ? Sir Robert, on the
opening of Parliament, never looked better, blither. It is true he pre-
sented petitions from several places, both against the Jews and the
Catholics; but his hand did not tremble; his lip did not quiver; he did
not, by any gesture, betray the anxiety of a son with his mother
Church in danger—the grief of a patriot, with the Coustitution of his
country about to fall to pieces.
There can be no doubt that, directly Rothschild takes his seat, the
whole country will go with a crash. Nevertheless, like some late idlers
on the Serpentine, Sir Robert walks and smiles, albeit the Constitu-
tion—like yielding ice—is cracking under him.
THE BEADLE'S DREAM.
I had a beat whereon the laziest brute
Might find repose,
A pound a week and every year a suit
Of bran-new clothes ;
A brass-nobb'd cane, a hat with gold-laced band
Of breadth extreme,
A coat whose capes were numerous and grand.
It was a dream !
I had a seat on which to blow a cloud,
A corner snug;
A daily pint of half-and-half allow'd,
In your own jug.
My dinner in a basin brought each day;
And, joy supreme!
Eor beating mats and carpets extra pay.
It was a dream !
THE MODEL SPONGE.
As the dinner-hour strikes, the Sponge knocks at the door. Some-
times he brings a bag of filberts with him. The host thanks him, and
produces sundry bottles of his best port. Sometimes he sends a hare.
He knows that the first rule of society is, that whoever sends a hare is
necessarily invited to dinner. Sometimes it is a box for the play. The
result is always the same. The Sponge knows all the secret springs of
the heart and the stomach (they too frequently lodge together), which,
ever so slightly touched upon, draw out a gratuitous dinner. His
conversation, too, is got up as neatly as himself. His fronts are richer
than those of Regent Street, xlis jokes, also, are beautifully dressed.
His scandal (for the ladies) is always of the newest cut, and his anec-
dotes fit as if they had been measured expressly for the company. He
leaves early. He has a tea in the neighbourhood—a dear friend who is
ill. He does not stop long, however, for hy recollects he knows a hot
supper just close by. He carves—his manoeuvres with the knife and
fork exercise, in fact, are perfect—helps everybody to a wing, and a
nicety, and does not forget the old proverb which says, that he who
wishes to be helped in this world must, first of all, help himself. He
goes home with a stranger, and breakfasts with him. He remembers,
however, about two o'clock, that he has business in the City. His
visit occurs, curiously enough, just at luncheon time. He is invited "to
pick a bone," and devours a chicken. " The air of the City is so
bracing." His appetite is most accommodating. Its range seems tc
exceed even that of Soyer's kitchen at the Reform Club. He likes
everything. Cold meat does not daunt him. A large family does not
terrify him. Saturday, however, is the day of the week he likes the
least. It is the day of hashes, of make-shifts, of pickles, bread-pudding,
and liver and bacon. Sunday is his grand day, but he gives the
preference of his society to those houses which do not involve a walk,
or a cab, or an omnibus home. At his own house he is—but here we
must drop the Sponge, for we would not go home with him for any price.
We cannot fancy a Sponge sponging upon himself; the sight would be
awful. To be properly appreciated, the Sponge must be seen at other
persons' tables. He is the gentleman-greengrocer who attends dinners
and waits at evening-parties without the fee.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
THE COMING COMET.
here are few
of our readers
aware that
a Comet is
going to visit
us this year.
He has been
due ever since
155C. What
lie has been
doing since
that period,
our Adams
and Lever-
riers do not
tell us. He
mu3t be very slow in travelling, and we always thought that Comets
came quicker than grey hairs or railway misfortunes. Probably he has
been talcing the round of the zodiac, stopping at every sign, and enjoying
himself at every astrological house where there was a drop or a cloud to
be had. However, he is on the road at last, and we are to expect him
some time this year, though we are not told the precise month. This
is awkward, for we should adapt our clothing accordingly; for who
would wish to receive a Comet in a great-coat ? As for ourselves, if he
does come, we think we had rather that he dropt in upon us in winter
than in summer. This cold weather is just the thing for him. We
might dispense with coals, and butchers would be able to sell their
joints ready cooked; but a Comet in the dog-davs really would be
a little too much. Persons would be flocking to Vesuvius for a cool
spot; salamanders even would complain of the heat; and the Oriental
Club would be obliged to dispense with its usual allowance of Cayenne
pepper.
It seems that this great Comet is to be the avant-covner to announce
the arrival of some tremendous person. He is only a special engine
sent on in advance to tell us to look out for a long train of events more
or less filled with accidents. We do not believe a word of this; the
same thing was said of the " Coming Man." He was to set all Europe
in a blaze, and yet his shadow has not been seen up to the present
moment, though the longest-sighted politicians have been looking out
for him for years with their mental telescopes, and advertising and
shouting for him everywhere. It will be time enough to run when the
Comet comes, like Lord Ellesmere when the Erench invade us—till
then, we shall believe in the one as much as the other.
If the Comet stops amongst us, we hope to goodness he will take
up his residence in Trafalgar Square. We know of no better place
for him. He could quench his thirst with the two little basins—just
a sip, a nice morning drain for him—and he could exercise himself
by running up and down the Kelson Column. It would be refreshing,
also, to see how much the place was improved after his visit. In this
way the Comet may turn out to be the greatest architect London has
ever had since the Great Eire of London. If he comes in this light
we will be the first to shout Welcome! and to hold up his tail. Till
this happy advent, we promise to keep an eye, mental as well as bodily,
upon his movements, and to give our readers the very earliest informa-
tion of his expected arrival, besides a long Catalogue Raixonnee of what
the Comet will do, and what he will not do. In the mean time, we do
not mind saying—"Louis-Philippe, beware !"
INGLIS-CHURCH-CONSTITUTION.
We were surprised and more than equally delighted, on the re-
assembling of Parliament, to see Sir Robert Inglis in the enjoyment
of excellent health. We had been led to expect the reverse. It was
currently reported among the Clubs (where do people expect to go
who circulate such rumours ?) that Sir Robert was so oppressed bv the
conviction that the Church was gone the moment a Jew trod the floor
of the Commons, that his frank and happy spirits had sunk, and his
health visibly declined. With the full belief that the Church wa8
annihilated, and that the earth would open somewhere near the
Minories—so soon as Baron Rothschild should take his seat—it was
confidently reported that Sir Robert had refused all food (save and
except the thinnest ham sandwich per diem), in the conviction that
England was no longer worth living in. Another rumour declared
that Sir Robert's batter had received orders to fit the worthy baronet's
beaver with a small bag of ashes; and another averred that Sir
Robert's tailor had measured him for a s nit of sackcloth, with a fancy
horse-hair waistcoat!
What is our happiness, then, to give these more than idle, these malig-
nant reports, the most vehement contradiction ? Sir Robert, on the
opening of Parliament, never looked better, blither. It is true he pre-
sented petitions from several places, both against the Jews and the
Catholics; but his hand did not tremble; his lip did not quiver; he did
not, by any gesture, betray the anxiety of a son with his mother
Church in danger—the grief of a patriot, with the Coustitution of his
country about to fall to pieces.
There can be no doubt that, directly Rothschild takes his seat, the
whole country will go with a crash. Nevertheless, like some late idlers
on the Serpentine, Sir Robert walks and smiles, albeit the Constitu-
tion—like yielding ice—is cracking under him.
THE BEADLE'S DREAM.
I had a beat whereon the laziest brute
Might find repose,
A pound a week and every year a suit
Of bran-new clothes ;
A brass-nobb'd cane, a hat with gold-laced band
Of breadth extreme,
A coat whose capes were numerous and grand.
It was a dream !
I had a seat on which to blow a cloud,
A corner snug;
A daily pint of half-and-half allow'd,
In your own jug.
My dinner in a basin brought each day;
And, joy supreme!
Eor beating mats and carpets extra pay.
It was a dream !
THE MODEL SPONGE.
As the dinner-hour strikes, the Sponge knocks at the door. Some-
times he brings a bag of filberts with him. The host thanks him, and
produces sundry bottles of his best port. Sometimes he sends a hare.
He knows that the first rule of society is, that whoever sends a hare is
necessarily invited to dinner. Sometimes it is a box for the play. The
result is always the same. The Sponge knows all the secret springs of
the heart and the stomach (they too frequently lodge together), which,
ever so slightly touched upon, draw out a gratuitous dinner. His
conversation, too, is got up as neatly as himself. His fronts are richer
than those of Regent Street, xlis jokes, also, are beautifully dressed.
His scandal (for the ladies) is always of the newest cut, and his anec-
dotes fit as if they had been measured expressly for the company. He
leaves early. He has a tea in the neighbourhood—a dear friend who is
ill. He does not stop long, however, for hy recollects he knows a hot
supper just close by. He carves—his manoeuvres with the knife and
fork exercise, in fact, are perfect—helps everybody to a wing, and a
nicety, and does not forget the old proverb which says, that he who
wishes to be helped in this world must, first of all, help himself. He
goes home with a stranger, and breakfasts with him. He remembers,
however, about two o'clock, that he has business in the City. His
visit occurs, curiously enough, just at luncheon time. He is invited "to
pick a bone," and devours a chicken. " The air of the City is so
bracing." His appetite is most accommodating. Its range seems tc
exceed even that of Soyer's kitchen at the Reform Club. He likes
everything. Cold meat does not daunt him. A large family does not
terrify him. Saturday, however, is the day of the week he likes the
least. It is the day of hashes, of make-shifts, of pickles, bread-pudding,
and liver and bacon. Sunday is his grand day, but he gives the
preference of his society to those houses which do not involve a walk,
or a cab, or an omnibus home. At his own house he is—but here we
must drop the Sponge, for we would not go home with him for any price.
We cannot fancy a Sponge sponging upon himself; the sight would be
awful. To be properly appreciated, the Sponge must be seen at other
persons' tables. He is the gentleman-greengrocer who attends dinners
and waits at evening-parties without the fee.