DOI Heft:
July to December, 1851
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16608#0119
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
107
ANN HICKS TO F. M. THE DUKE.
{Favoured by Mr. Punch.)
Mrs. Ann Hicks —through Mr. Punch—presents her duty to Eield-
Marshal, the Duke and Conqu'ror in 100 Fights ; and having had her
eye drawn to F. M. the Dtjke's letter, which appeared in the news-
papers reflecting upon her; and feeling that the meanest subject as is
can plead a habeas corpus, having in the poorest English garret the
strongest castle, Mrs. Ann Hicks offers her duty, and as a lone
woman hopes to be permitted one word. Strike but hear, is the
motto of every Briton; and Mrs. Ann Hicks—saving the presence of
F. M. the Duke—trusts whatever Loud Seymour may insinuate to
the contrary—that she lias not, and never will, forfeit her proudest,
birthright, which is to feel that the newspaper press is like the air she
used to breathe in Hyde Park, if she has it not, she dies.
F. M. the Duke takes it upon him to write to Mr. Griffiths of the
Anti-Enclosures—
"The Duke does not exactly understand what connexion is supposed to exist
between his house in Piccadilly and Mrs. Hioks's cottage. The Duke purchased
from the Crown his property in Piccadilly."
Mrs. Hicks is the last woman upon the earth as would dispute an
account with E. M. the Duke, who no doubt has hied his receipt for
Apsley House, which may it cover F. M. many Waterloo Banquets, the
Grenadiers never giving up the Conquering Hero Coming, with God
Save the Queen and the rest of the royal family.
Mrs. Hicks says nothing against the Duke's bargain about his
house in Piccadilly • but Mrs. Hicks would be less or more than a
Ivoman (which she has no wish to be, one way or the other) if she
lidn't feel the following as a stab :—
" Mrs. Hicks is neither more nor less than a squatter on the retaining banks of
ie Serpentine river."
That's it—"squatter ! " That's the blow! Mrs. Ann Hicks
toust feel it: to be called—and that, moreover, in print—a " squatter "
by the " Hero of a Hundred Fights,'' and many more than that, she's
bound, if they were all told—to go down to her grave as a " squatter,"
—which even Lord Seymour, which is saying a good deal, never called
her before—is too much, with the eyes of Europe, as Mrs. Hicks feels
every one of 'em, looking at her, and at F. M. the Duke in the,
;THE LAST NIGHTS OF JULLIEN."
i 0% i orror-struck were ™e all
k jr^^ A last week to see tne walls
of London placarded with
the above terrible announce-
ment. We could not imagine
what fearful crime Jullien
had committed, that his
nights should be numbered
like those of a common cri-
minal. Knowing that he was
a leader of the greatest exe-
cution, our first impulse was
to send off to Newgate to
make inquiries what sort of
nights the ill-fated Maestro
t had lately passed. We
were most anxious to know
whether, in the phraseology
-•""s^i^S^is ~~-=^sms^^^!S^~ of the penny-a-liner, " his
appetite had remained good
to the last," and whether, " as the termination of his career approached,"
his usual firmness had in the least deserted him? These inquiries,
however, were never made at Newgate, or Horsemonger Lane Gaol,
or anywhere else; for, in the meantime, our forebodings had been
.quieted by the agreeable discovery that the "Last Nights" which
had so much alarmed us, had reference merely to an engagement
at the Surrey Zoological Gardens, where Jullien has lately been
flourishing his baton. His ambrosial curls and moustachios, and
spotless white waistcoat, have not been sacrificed, we rejoice to say, to
the severe requirements of any prison regulations. Our Jullien,
thank Heaven ! is still preserved to us ; but really managers should be
careful not to shatter our nerves by such startling announcements.
CROUCH, BRITANNIA !
bargain. j A Disloyal and Unpatriotic Song, for the Rotunda: with Accompaniment*
Mrs. Hicks, moreover, cannot but feel much hurt at what comes
next, as she reads it in the newspapers :—
" The Duke has frequently considered it his duty to inquire, and he could never
find that Mrs. Hicks had any authority whatever to establish herself there."
Mrs. Hicks does feel it partic'larly slighting of E. M. the Duke
that he didn't ask her own self about her rights to her stand, which
would have proved to the generous heart of F. M. His Grace that she
was no more a " squatter," with her humble ginger-beer and inoffensive
apples, and her happy tea-kettle, that would have been singing still but
for the spite of a nobleman as shall be nameless.
Mrs. Hicks says, she does feel that she could have proved herself
no more a squatter to F. M., than the Duke is a squatter to himself;
though, as she hears, F. M. has, perhaps, set down before more places
than she ever dreamed of.
But to conclude, Mrs. Hicks presents her humble duty to F. M.
the Duke, and shall be proud and happy to wait upon his commands,
and to tell to His Grace the varnished story of her wrongs, beginning
with her first standing—(not squatting)—at the bank of the Serpentine,
until she was crushed to the earth by the Woods and Forests.
P. S.—Mrs. Hicks sees by the papers that Lord Seymour has put
his keepers in the Park in livery : green frocks—gilt buttons—and red
stripes. Mrs. Hicks has no doubt that they look very fine ; but for her
own part, she wonders how Lord S—ym—r can look upon those buttons
without thinking of the widow's tears (who was no squatter)—and to
conclude, how he can behold those scarlet stripes without taking to his
bed, and dreaming of an unprotected bleeding heart.
by the Pope's Brass Band.
For Britain, when a monkish band,
With boast triumphant, forged the Popish chain,
This was their blessing on the land.
And barefoot friars sang the strain :
Chorus.
Crouch, Britannia, Britannia, on thy waves,
Britons ever, ever, ever, ever, be our slaves !
Nations far more vast than thou
Before our Pontiff's footstool fall;
And shalt thou only scorn to bow,
A shame and scandal to them all ?
Chorus.—Crouch, Britannia, &c.
Shall thy free spirit stronger rise,
The firmer for our foreign stroke ?
At least we '11 do what in us lies
To make thee wear the Pope's " sweet yoke ! "
Chorus.—Crouch, Britannia, &c.
Not far from the Truth.
A short time back, on the first night of a new piece—that is to say,
a new translation—at one of our theatres, (we could name it, but have
no wish to be spiteful), loud cries were raised, when the curtain fell, for
" Author, Author! " These cries were continued for some time, when,
no one appearing, a French gentleman rose in the dress circle, and said
most seriously, " Ladies and Gentlemen, de author of dis piece is in r
Paris." It is scarcely necessary to state, that after this announcement promise in a court where £10 or £12 is ail the cost ot an attachment.
CHEAP PERFIDY !
"Dear Mr. Punch,
"In a defence of the Lord Mayor's Court, signed ' A
Solicitor,' in the money article of the Times (which I think is always so
interesting), I read, the other day, that, in that Court,
" 1 The costs of an attachment as above, including two counsel's fees, seldom amount
to more than £10 or £12 on each side, let the debt be ever so large.'
"A perjured wretch owes me at least a thousand a year—which I
know he has got—for blighted hopes and wounded feelings. I suppose,
from the word attachment, that the Lord Mayor's Court is intended
to do justice to those who have been wronged, like me, in the tenderest
point. But would you, if you were me, bring an action for breach of
the English Author did not make his appearance.
The best Scotch Joke we ever Heard.
A clever Scotchman, being told that Demosthenes was in the habit
of making speeches at the sea-side with small stones in his mouth,
exclaimed, " Hoot, mon ! then he must ha' been the first Member for
Peebles.'" {Loud cries of " Apology," which not being given, tlie Reader
proceeds to groan)
: Devotedly yours,
" Dinah.
railway intelligence.
Railavays are considered to be looking up ; yet railway-business is
decidedly inanimate ; for it is utterly deficient in tne soul of business-
punctuality.
107
ANN HICKS TO F. M. THE DUKE.
{Favoured by Mr. Punch.)
Mrs. Ann Hicks —through Mr. Punch—presents her duty to Eield-
Marshal, the Duke and Conqu'ror in 100 Fights ; and having had her
eye drawn to F. M. the Dtjke's letter, which appeared in the news-
papers reflecting upon her; and feeling that the meanest subject as is
can plead a habeas corpus, having in the poorest English garret the
strongest castle, Mrs. Ann Hicks offers her duty, and as a lone
woman hopes to be permitted one word. Strike but hear, is the
motto of every Briton; and Mrs. Ann Hicks—saving the presence of
F. M. the Duke—trusts whatever Loud Seymour may insinuate to
the contrary—that she lias not, and never will, forfeit her proudest,
birthright, which is to feel that the newspaper press is like the air she
used to breathe in Hyde Park, if she has it not, she dies.
F. M. the Duke takes it upon him to write to Mr. Griffiths of the
Anti-Enclosures—
"The Duke does not exactly understand what connexion is supposed to exist
between his house in Piccadilly and Mrs. Hioks's cottage. The Duke purchased
from the Crown his property in Piccadilly."
Mrs. Hicks is the last woman upon the earth as would dispute an
account with E. M. the Duke, who no doubt has hied his receipt for
Apsley House, which may it cover F. M. many Waterloo Banquets, the
Grenadiers never giving up the Conquering Hero Coming, with God
Save the Queen and the rest of the royal family.
Mrs. Hicks says nothing against the Duke's bargain about his
house in Piccadilly • but Mrs. Hicks would be less or more than a
Ivoman (which she has no wish to be, one way or the other) if she
lidn't feel the following as a stab :—
" Mrs. Hicks is neither more nor less than a squatter on the retaining banks of
ie Serpentine river."
That's it—"squatter ! " That's the blow! Mrs. Ann Hicks
toust feel it: to be called—and that, moreover, in print—a " squatter "
by the " Hero of a Hundred Fights,'' and many more than that, she's
bound, if they were all told—to go down to her grave as a " squatter,"
—which even Lord Seymour, which is saying a good deal, never called
her before—is too much, with the eyes of Europe, as Mrs. Hicks feels
every one of 'em, looking at her, and at F. M. the Duke in the,
;THE LAST NIGHTS OF JULLIEN."
i 0% i orror-struck were ™e all
k jr^^ A last week to see tne walls
of London placarded with
the above terrible announce-
ment. We could not imagine
what fearful crime Jullien
had committed, that his
nights should be numbered
like those of a common cri-
minal. Knowing that he was
a leader of the greatest exe-
cution, our first impulse was
to send off to Newgate to
make inquiries what sort of
nights the ill-fated Maestro
t had lately passed. We
were most anxious to know
whether, in the phraseology
-•""s^i^S^is ~~-=^sms^^^!S^~ of the penny-a-liner, " his
appetite had remained good
to the last," and whether, " as the termination of his career approached,"
his usual firmness had in the least deserted him? These inquiries,
however, were never made at Newgate, or Horsemonger Lane Gaol,
or anywhere else; for, in the meantime, our forebodings had been
.quieted by the agreeable discovery that the "Last Nights" which
had so much alarmed us, had reference merely to an engagement
at the Surrey Zoological Gardens, where Jullien has lately been
flourishing his baton. His ambrosial curls and moustachios, and
spotless white waistcoat, have not been sacrificed, we rejoice to say, to
the severe requirements of any prison regulations. Our Jullien,
thank Heaven ! is still preserved to us ; but really managers should be
careful not to shatter our nerves by such startling announcements.
CROUCH, BRITANNIA !
bargain. j A Disloyal and Unpatriotic Song, for the Rotunda: with Accompaniment*
Mrs. Hicks, moreover, cannot but feel much hurt at what comes
next, as she reads it in the newspapers :—
" The Duke has frequently considered it his duty to inquire, and he could never
find that Mrs. Hicks had any authority whatever to establish herself there."
Mrs. Hicks does feel it partic'larly slighting of E. M. the Duke
that he didn't ask her own self about her rights to her stand, which
would have proved to the generous heart of F. M. His Grace that she
was no more a " squatter," with her humble ginger-beer and inoffensive
apples, and her happy tea-kettle, that would have been singing still but
for the spite of a nobleman as shall be nameless.
Mrs. Hicks says, she does feel that she could have proved herself
no more a squatter to F. M., than the Duke is a squatter to himself;
though, as she hears, F. M. has, perhaps, set down before more places
than she ever dreamed of.
But to conclude, Mrs. Hicks presents her humble duty to F. M.
the Duke, and shall be proud and happy to wait upon his commands,
and to tell to His Grace the varnished story of her wrongs, beginning
with her first standing—(not squatting)—at the bank of the Serpentine,
until she was crushed to the earth by the Woods and Forests.
P. S.—Mrs. Hicks sees by the papers that Lord Seymour has put
his keepers in the Park in livery : green frocks—gilt buttons—and red
stripes. Mrs. Hicks has no doubt that they look very fine ; but for her
own part, she wonders how Lord S—ym—r can look upon those buttons
without thinking of the widow's tears (who was no squatter)—and to
conclude, how he can behold those scarlet stripes without taking to his
bed, and dreaming of an unprotected bleeding heart.
by the Pope's Brass Band.
For Britain, when a monkish band,
With boast triumphant, forged the Popish chain,
This was their blessing on the land.
And barefoot friars sang the strain :
Chorus.
Crouch, Britannia, Britannia, on thy waves,
Britons ever, ever, ever, ever, be our slaves !
Nations far more vast than thou
Before our Pontiff's footstool fall;
And shalt thou only scorn to bow,
A shame and scandal to them all ?
Chorus.—Crouch, Britannia, &c.
Shall thy free spirit stronger rise,
The firmer for our foreign stroke ?
At least we '11 do what in us lies
To make thee wear the Pope's " sweet yoke ! "
Chorus.—Crouch, Britannia, &c.
Not far from the Truth.
A short time back, on the first night of a new piece—that is to say,
a new translation—at one of our theatres, (we could name it, but have
no wish to be spiteful), loud cries were raised, when the curtain fell, for
" Author, Author! " These cries were continued for some time, when,
no one appearing, a French gentleman rose in the dress circle, and said
most seriously, " Ladies and Gentlemen, de author of dis piece is in r
Paris." It is scarcely necessary to state, that after this announcement promise in a court where £10 or £12 is ail the cost ot an attachment.
CHEAP PERFIDY !
"Dear Mr. Punch,
"In a defence of the Lord Mayor's Court, signed ' A
Solicitor,' in the money article of the Times (which I think is always so
interesting), I read, the other day, that, in that Court,
" 1 The costs of an attachment as above, including two counsel's fees, seldom amount
to more than £10 or £12 on each side, let the debt be ever so large.'
"A perjured wretch owes me at least a thousand a year—which I
know he has got—for blighted hopes and wounded feelings. I suppose,
from the word attachment, that the Lord Mayor's Court is intended
to do justice to those who have been wronged, like me, in the tenderest
point. But would you, if you were me, bring an action for breach of
the English Author did not make his appearance.
The best Scotch Joke we ever Heard.
A clever Scotchman, being told that Demosthenes was in the habit
of making speeches at the sea-side with small stones in his mouth,
exclaimed, " Hoot, mon ! then he must ha' been the first Member for
Peebles.'" {Loud cries of " Apology," which not being given, tlie Reader
proceeds to groan)
: Devotedly yours,
" Dinah.
railway intelligence.
Railavays are considered to be looking up ; yet railway-business is
decidedly inanimate ; for it is utterly deficient in tne soul of business-
punctuality.