DOI issue:
January to June, 1849
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16548#0163
156
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
ANTIQUITY OF EQUESTRIAN ANTICS.
There are a few things that have puzzled the world to this very
hour, and perhaps the three greatest of these puzzles are—Perpetual
Motion, the Phdosopher's Stone, and the exact age of Widdicomb.
The last of these interesting mysteries, though not actually brought
into a state of solution, has some important light thrown upon it by-
some Marbles in the British Museum, which relate to the inhabitants
of Nineveh, who, though remarkable for their shrewdness, and the
darkness of their colour, go by the inappropriate name of the Ninue-
Tites. The Marbles in question introduce us to many of the wonders of
Astley's, which we had believed to be of modern date, but which turn
out to be in reality as old as the hills.
We have, in these ancient remains, the representation of a figure
taking a flying leap over a pair of horses, and we cannot doubt for a
moment that the leaping figure is that of the then youthful Widdicomb,
who no doubt always looked before he leaped, and must therefore have
lived anterior to the act, in the execution of which some early sculptor
has chiselled him. Time, we know, moves in a circle ; and it is now
obvious that the scenes in this circle have been, from very remote ages,
much the same as those which in the Astleyan circle are to this day
exlnbited.
Another portion of the remains now in the British Museum intro-
duces us to a piece of pristine Van AiiBURGii-ism, which proves that
Widdicomb was not "alone in his slow" ao an athlete of antiquity.
The Nimroud marbles leave no room for question that, in the age they
illustrate, there were brute-tamers who could play at any game (except
•cratch-cradle) with the tiger, or poke their heads down lions' mouths,
with a oomfortable conviction that the thing would bear looking into.
We were already pretty well convmced of the fact of there being
nothing new under the sun, but we were hardly prepared to allow that |
there is nothing new among the stars that shine in the dramatic
hemisphere.
PUNCH, PLUTUS, AND KING HUDSON.
(A Dialogue after the manner o/*Lucian.)
Punch. Who is it runs this way, followed by a pack of Curs that bark
about his heels, while that short figure in glistening dress of gold foil
strives to frighten them away by shaking money-bags?
Enter the King and Plutus, out of breath.
What! the Iron King—hail, 0 Monarch! But what means this
dismay, these tattered garments, those dints on thy crown of iron P
Plutus. Cheer up, 0 friend—see, already the pack slink backwards,
cowed, as it seems, by the baton of this stranger.
King II. This, 0 Plutus, is a stranger, indeed, to thee alone of all the
Gods: the Muses know him, and Phoebus, nor is the son of Maia
himself averse from him. This, 0 Plutus, is Punch, the son of Momus
and Euiiousu.
Plutus. Hail, 0 Punch. I am the God of Wealth, and I consort
ever among men. And now I protect my friend here, who has
sacrificed much on my altar, from those Dogs yonder, who yesterday
licked his hand, and fawned upon him for scraps, but now would
tear him.
Punch. I have seen many dethroned Kings, 0 Plutus—amongst
them, Louis, the aged King of the Gauls.
Plutus. Him I knew well—a constant worshipper of mine, but 1
cannot prop up thrones. I can only break the fall from them on my
money-bags.
Punch. And hast thou also fallen, 0 Iron King?
King II. 1 learn it only by these barkings. But why they bark I
know not—for 1 am the same as I was when they raised Golden Images
to me, and called me great, and ate much dirt at my hands, and took
cutis and spurns with patience. I have done nothing that I did not then
do, and they were still welcome to the crumbs from my table.
Punch. But, O King, do the crumbs still fall as abundantly as before?
Dogs must be fed or they will bark, and thy worshippers were but those
Dogs, that would now tear thee.
King II. Give me gold, 0 Plutus, that I may throw it to them.
Plutus. 0 my friend, I cannot. What I had for thee, thou hadst,
and hast turned it into iron.
Punch. Hear, O King, and I will tell thee a fable. Two gold diggers
sat by the Sacramento. And they digged, and the one got much more
gold than the other, for he plunged deeper in the mud of the stream.
And the other worshipped him, but it was the gold that he reverenced,
and not the digger. But at last the strongest digger got out all the gold
in that place, and then he sat and rested Ms hands ; and the other then,
seem™ his hands, called out, " 0! how dirty are thine hands, thou
vile digger of gold," and reviled him. But his friend said to him,
" Look at thine own hands. Thou hast not gathered, so much goki as
I, but no less dirt hath stuck to thv fingers." Thus it is, 0 King, with
thee, and thy worshippers of yesterday. Hadst thou gone on grubbing for
gold, and giving them of it, they would not have noticed the foulness of
thy hands, but rather kissed them for the odour of gold that hung
about them.
King II. But they worshipped me.
Punch. Kay—not thee, but the gold that came from thee. But now
art thou like the King of Brass, that sits at the Cross of Charing, in the
City of London. He was taken down, and buried, and one sold knives
and forks, which the seller said were cast from the brass of him. So
thou shalt be taken down, and out of thee shall men make iron rails,
and thou shalt be railed upon in many ways.
Plutus. Thou shouldst have known, 0 King, when thou didst become
my worshipper, that the crowns I can bestow are not lasting crowns,
and that the iron in thine did not make it more durable. Nevertheless,
I pity thee.
Punch. And I, that never bowed down to thee, while thou worest
thy crown,—I will keep off the Dogs that now snap at the tattered hem
of thy royal robe. *
King H. 0 friend, I thank thee
An Old Saw adapted to a Modern Instance.
The Border hunters, as Sle Walter Scott tells us in one of his
notes to the Border Minstrelsy, had an old rhyme on woodcraft, which
we recommend to the study of Lord John Russell— t
" If thou be hart by Koebuck'b horn it brings thee to thy bier,
Bat Leech's hand can boar's hart heal, therefore thou need'st not fear.''
Lord John has often been indebted to Leech for taking off the
sting of the hurts inflicted by the bores of the House of Commons-
witness Chisholm Anstet. But we cannot promise to do anything to
save him from the digs of a Roebuck.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
ANTIQUITY OF EQUESTRIAN ANTICS.
There are a few things that have puzzled the world to this very
hour, and perhaps the three greatest of these puzzles are—Perpetual
Motion, the Phdosopher's Stone, and the exact age of Widdicomb.
The last of these interesting mysteries, though not actually brought
into a state of solution, has some important light thrown upon it by-
some Marbles in the British Museum, which relate to the inhabitants
of Nineveh, who, though remarkable for their shrewdness, and the
darkness of their colour, go by the inappropriate name of the Ninue-
Tites. The Marbles in question introduce us to many of the wonders of
Astley's, which we had believed to be of modern date, but which turn
out to be in reality as old as the hills.
We have, in these ancient remains, the representation of a figure
taking a flying leap over a pair of horses, and we cannot doubt for a
moment that the leaping figure is that of the then youthful Widdicomb,
who no doubt always looked before he leaped, and must therefore have
lived anterior to the act, in the execution of which some early sculptor
has chiselled him. Time, we know, moves in a circle ; and it is now
obvious that the scenes in this circle have been, from very remote ages,
much the same as those which in the Astleyan circle are to this day
exlnbited.
Another portion of the remains now in the British Museum intro-
duces us to a piece of pristine Van AiiBURGii-ism, which proves that
Widdicomb was not "alone in his slow" ao an athlete of antiquity.
The Nimroud marbles leave no room for question that, in the age they
illustrate, there were brute-tamers who could play at any game (except
•cratch-cradle) with the tiger, or poke their heads down lions' mouths,
with a oomfortable conviction that the thing would bear looking into.
We were already pretty well convmced of the fact of there being
nothing new under the sun, but we were hardly prepared to allow that |
there is nothing new among the stars that shine in the dramatic
hemisphere.
PUNCH, PLUTUS, AND KING HUDSON.
(A Dialogue after the manner o/*Lucian.)
Punch. Who is it runs this way, followed by a pack of Curs that bark
about his heels, while that short figure in glistening dress of gold foil
strives to frighten them away by shaking money-bags?
Enter the King and Plutus, out of breath.
What! the Iron King—hail, 0 Monarch! But what means this
dismay, these tattered garments, those dints on thy crown of iron P
Plutus. Cheer up, 0 friend—see, already the pack slink backwards,
cowed, as it seems, by the baton of this stranger.
King II. This, 0 Plutus, is a stranger, indeed, to thee alone of all the
Gods: the Muses know him, and Phoebus, nor is the son of Maia
himself averse from him. This, 0 Plutus, is Punch, the son of Momus
and Euiiousu.
Plutus. Hail, 0 Punch. I am the God of Wealth, and I consort
ever among men. And now I protect my friend here, who has
sacrificed much on my altar, from those Dogs yonder, who yesterday
licked his hand, and fawned upon him for scraps, but now would
tear him.
Punch. I have seen many dethroned Kings, 0 Plutus—amongst
them, Louis, the aged King of the Gauls.
Plutus. Him I knew well—a constant worshipper of mine, but 1
cannot prop up thrones. I can only break the fall from them on my
money-bags.
Punch. And hast thou also fallen, 0 Iron King?
King II. 1 learn it only by these barkings. But why they bark I
know not—for 1 am the same as I was when they raised Golden Images
to me, and called me great, and ate much dirt at my hands, and took
cutis and spurns with patience. I have done nothing that I did not then
do, and they were still welcome to the crumbs from my table.
Punch. But, O King, do the crumbs still fall as abundantly as before?
Dogs must be fed or they will bark, and thy worshippers were but those
Dogs, that would now tear thee.
King II. Give me gold, 0 Plutus, that I may throw it to them.
Plutus. 0 my friend, I cannot. What I had for thee, thou hadst,
and hast turned it into iron.
Punch. Hear, O King, and I will tell thee a fable. Two gold diggers
sat by the Sacramento. And they digged, and the one got much more
gold than the other, for he plunged deeper in the mud of the stream.
And the other worshipped him, but it was the gold that he reverenced,
and not the digger. But at last the strongest digger got out all the gold
in that place, and then he sat and rested Ms hands ; and the other then,
seem™ his hands, called out, " 0! how dirty are thine hands, thou
vile digger of gold," and reviled him. But his friend said to him,
" Look at thine own hands. Thou hast not gathered, so much goki as
I, but no less dirt hath stuck to thv fingers." Thus it is, 0 King, with
thee, and thy worshippers of yesterday. Hadst thou gone on grubbing for
gold, and giving them of it, they would not have noticed the foulness of
thy hands, but rather kissed them for the odour of gold that hung
about them.
King II. But they worshipped me.
Punch. Kay—not thee, but the gold that came from thee. But now
art thou like the King of Brass, that sits at the Cross of Charing, in the
City of London. He was taken down, and buried, and one sold knives
and forks, which the seller said were cast from the brass of him. So
thou shalt be taken down, and out of thee shall men make iron rails,
and thou shalt be railed upon in many ways.
Plutus. Thou shouldst have known, 0 King, when thou didst become
my worshipper, that the crowns I can bestow are not lasting crowns,
and that the iron in thine did not make it more durable. Nevertheless,
I pity thee.
Punch. And I, that never bowed down to thee, while thou worest
thy crown,—I will keep off the Dogs that now snap at the tattered hem
of thy royal robe. *
King H. 0 friend, I thank thee
An Old Saw adapted to a Modern Instance.
The Border hunters, as Sle Walter Scott tells us in one of his
notes to the Border Minstrelsy, had an old rhyme on woodcraft, which
we recommend to the study of Lord John Russell— t
" If thou be hart by Koebuck'b horn it brings thee to thy bier,
Bat Leech's hand can boar's hart heal, therefore thou need'st not fear.''
Lord John has often been indebted to Leech for taking off the
sting of the hurts inflicted by the bores of the House of Commons-
witness Chisholm Anstet. But we cannot promise to do anything to
save him from the digs of a Roebuck.