Punch: Punch (21.1851)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 11

The City Remembrancer. No, Sir; that's the Lord Mayor {pointing
to his Lordship).

M. le Maire {confused). Ah, ca—comment—{recovering himself, and
seizing the Lord Mayor). Permit that I welcome your Lordship to the
port of Boulogne !—{A complimentary Address.)
Crowd {to the Jockey). Vive le Lor Maire !
[The Jockey is surrounded and overwhelmed with respectful con-
gratulations.
1st Matelotte. Est-il chouette le Lor Maire !
2nd Matelotte. Oh, la jolie toque !

[The Jockey, who does not understand French, resigns himself to general
admiration. Aldermen, Common Councilme?i, and their Wives,
Foreign Commissioners, Royal and Executive Committee-men, fyc,
fyc, 8fC, ascend the ladder, looking very limp and unsteady.
Bouanier {seizing Mr. Alderman Portsoken's carpet-bag, the only
relic of his luggage). Point de bagages—M'sieur—laissez-la—

Mr. Alderman Portsoken {who is generally believed able to talk French,
and believes so himself, clinging to all that is left him). Oui, oui, c'est
mon carpet-bag—il n'a rien smuggled—Non, non—Je suis un Alderman.
Bouanier {brutally). Laissez, done! ere nom d'un chien —

[His carpet-bag is rudely torn from him.
Mrs. Alderman Gulchin {distractedly). Oh, where's Gulchin? Has
anybody seen him ?

[She disappears in the crowd, in search of her Husband.
A Voice. Au chemin de fer !

[The Lord Mayor is ushered off. A general rush to the Railway
Station.

Bouaniers {darting among the crowd, and laying violent hands on trunks,
carpet-bags, and hat-boxes). Les bagages ! les bagages ! Sac-r-r-r-e.

[Several desperate but ineffectual attempts are made to speak French.

Tableau.—Civic Authorities being deprived of their
remaining Luggage.

Scene IV.—The Station of the Boulogne Railway at Paris.—A crowd
assembled. The Carriage of Ceremonial in waiting, the Preeet oe
the Seine in attendance. The Train arrives. The Lord Mayor
descends from the first carriage with his Jockey. Hesing, the
Mandarin of the Junk, descends from the next carriage.

Crowd {divided between the Jockey and the Mandarin). Vive le Lor
Maire !

M. Le Prefet de la Seine {embarrassed, and aside to the French Com-
missioner). C'est lui ? [He is about to seize the hand of the Jockey.

French Commissioner {rapidly, and aside). Non—pas celui-la—levieux.

M. le Prefet de la Seine {with a profound bow, and making a violent
attempt to embrace Hesing). Permettez, M. le Lor Maire-

The Lord Mayor {thrusting himself forward). Here—I'm the Lord
Mayor.

M. le Prefet de la Seine {much relieved). Ah !

[Belivers himself of a neat and appropriate address. Exit the Lord
Mayor and Suite to the carriages. The Aldermen attempt to
follow, but are repulsed by the Municipal Guards.
Mr. Alderman Candlewick. You talk Prench, Portsoken. Tell him
we 're the Aldermen; and say, I've passed the Chair; and we've as
much right to be treated with respect as the Lord Mayor.

Mr. Alderman Portsoken {who feels that his stock of French is being
unduly drawn upon, but is determined to keep up his credit). Nous
sommes Aldermen, nous allons with le Lord Mayor—s'il vous plait.
Municipal Guard. En arriere—Messieurs—En arriere

[They are forced back.

Mr. Alderman Candlewick {indignantly). Look !—There's that Chinese
chap a-getting in—

Mrs. Alderman Portsoken {disgusted with the ivant of respect shown to
the Corporation). I said how it would be, Mr. P., if you didn't wear
your gowns and chains.—You'd better put 'em on now—you had.

Mr. Alderman Portsoken. Egad! I think we had, Candlewick—here !
—{Eagerly inspecting the luggage, which is being tumbled down.)—Hollo!—
—a brown portmanteau—Eh?—No—that ain't it.—Now, then—Sir—

[Turning over the pile.

Mrs. Alderman Gulchin {discovering Mrs. Portsoken). Oh, my dear,
I hope you haven't lost Mr. P. ?

Mrs. Alderman Portsoken. No—he's there—but I shouldn't wonder
if we've lost our luggage—

Mrs. Alderman Gulchin {pointing to a pile of trunks and band-boxes).
Oh—I've all the things—but Mr. G.'s been and got left behind at
the London-Bridge Station.

Mr. Alderman Partsoken {rushing back frantically). Confound it,
Mrs. P. ! I'll be hanged if all our boxes ain't lost. E.ery one of them !

Mrs. Alderman Portsoken {shrilly). What! the green box, with my
things for the ball?

Mr. Alderman Portsoken. Yes—and the brown portmanteau, with my
gown—and the Lieutenancy uniform! {Blankly.) Here's a go !

Mrs. Alderman Portsoken. A go—indeed! Just like you, Mr. P.
Whatever is to be done!

Mrs. Alderman Gulchin. Oh, Mrs. P.; but at all events you've got

Ma. P. I'm sure I'd rather have lost every bit of our luggage, if I'd

only Mr. G.

Mrs. Alderman Portsoken {sharply, and with a kind of malignant
triumph). Well, Mr. P., and what's to be done now, if you please ?

Mr. Alderman Portsoken. Well, my dear, we'd better go on to the
Hotel de Wille, where we 're to lodge, and I '11 send down after the
trunks—they 're sure to come on by the next train.

Mrs. Alderman Portsoken {bitterly). Oh, I don't feel sure of anything
of the kind.

Commissionnaire {who has comprehended the situation). Cab, Sare ?—
Yes, Sarel {Rushing to the remise, calls) Fiacre—ohe !
Driver of Fiacre. V'la—

[The Fiacre drives up. Mrs. P., Mrs. G., and the luggage are put in.
Mr. Alderman Portsoken {mounting last, with pride). A le Hotel de
Wille.

Tableau.—Civic Dignitaries dispersing in Search of Lodgings.

Scene V.— Outside the Hotel de Ville.—The doors are closed. Piles of
'age strew the pavement.

Aldermen, Common Council-
men, and their Wives, are seen
disconsolately seated upon
different articles. Gamins are
gathered round, watching
them with curious interest,
and indulging in speculations
about them. Mr. Alderman
Portsoken and party have
been fust set down.

1st Alderman (boiling over with
outraged dignity). Here's Port-
soken ; he can tell these chaps
that we're the Aldermen, and
that we 're to lodge here. There's
the Lord Mayor just gone in;
but when we tried to follow him,
they shut the door in our faces.

1st Common Councilman. Only
think, Mr. P., there don't seem
to be any rooms ready for us;
but I dare say they don't under-
stand who we are. Just tell 'em.

Mr. Alderman Portsoken. Oh !
I'll tell 'em fast enough : it will M
be all right—you '11 see.

[Exit into the Porter's Lodge.
A lapse of ten minutes.

Re-enter Mr. Alderman Port-
soken, very much crest-fallen.
Clumsy Alderman. "W'ell! Have
you explained to 'em ? It's all
right—eh ?

Mr. Alderman Portsoken {sa-
vagely). It's too bad. There's Only The Brfush Alderman according to
room here for the Lord Mayor. thb live"' fa*cy of the fehctt

Chorus of Civic Bigni-
taries. Shame ! -^^Nl

Mr. Alderman Port- fiS^xOlw
soken. I said we were Vr^^^T
the Aldermen; but they ^Jmkf^'Mk^
wouldn't hear of anything

but, the Loud Mayor. ^^^Mv\^®^/J^^\
1st Alderman {with aw- JsmsSyk)^ 'V^l/JkrW^^

ful dignity). Did you ex-
plain what an Alderman
was ?

Mr. Alderman Port-
soken. There ain't any
Prench word for it—but

L described the sort of "^^Hflj^S-^^^^^^^^^^K^^^
thing—and they said they '^^\U^^^wS^^^^^^aSmmWn
believed there was lodg- ~~:'"^^M^^^^^^^^^^m m\ ^ j
ings provided for the c 3S^W^==^^^^^^^^Sc|^^^
Lord Mayor's guard in '^^^Mp^^^^^gj^^^^^^'

the Cavalry Barracks. cr ==^Bi'*^^^m^^^Hw^^^-

lst Alderman {in tow- i^^i=^jl|/^^^g^^HSS|^^^^^S"

ering indignation). Bar- ^-^z^Ei^^^^aaB^P^^^^B=g>;
racks! Put us in the

Barracks ! Let's insist ^<S_^8^s>^Ps:^^^pF^^^s

on seeing his Lordship. _e5L

It's his business to see —*~ ^

we 're treated with pro- the Beitish alderman according to thi

per respect ! Ridiculous Fact.