DOI Heft:
July to December, 1851
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16608#0207
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Miss Runt {drawing breath). However, there's some hope of an im-
provement, in that, Mrs. Jones ?
The Ex-Unprotected. Eh ?
Miss Runt. Yes, thanks to those very superior women—Mes.
Bloomer in America, and Mes. Dextee, here.
The Ex-Unprotected {lifts up her hands in horror). Why, you don't
mean 1o say, my dear—
Miss Runt {with a martyr's exaltation). And why not, Mes. Jones?
Yes, Ma'am, I do mean to say—I think Bloomerism is a great and a
glorious reform in the dress of Woman ; and I mean to adopt it.
{Proudly and firmly.
The Ex-Unprotected {who has caught glimpses of Miss Runt's feet
occasionally, and is familiar with the general character of her figure).
You ! my dear!
Miss Runt {calmly). And why not, Mes. Jones ?
The Ex-Unprotected {feeling that ?/Miss R. does not see the why not,
there can be no hope of making it apparent). Oh, my dear! I don't see
any reason, if you don't—I'm sure—oh, no—
Miss Runt. I see every reason for it, on the contrary, Ma'am. Yon
wear stays. Mes. Jones ?
The Ex- Unprotected. Certainly.
Miss Runt {producing a highly coloured illustration of the awful
consequences of tight-lacing, enforced by the " Venus de Medicis"
in juxtaposition with a Modern Fine Lady). There ! look here, Mes.
Jones ! that's your diaphragm.
The Ex-Unprotected {in horror). You don't say so!
Miss Runt. And those are your lungs, which you see are all squeezed
up; and that's your heart, which you see can't play up and down as
it ought; and that's the liver—and there's the ribs—{the Ex-
l Unprotected is overwhelmed with alarm)—and that's what we should
be like if we didn't wear stays. [Pointing to the "Venus de Medicis."
The Ex-Unprotected {rather horrified). Well; but she wears no stays
1 —and—no nothing—and you wouldn't—
Miss Runt. Then there's the length of our dresses. They sweep the
streets when it's dirty.
The Ex-Unprotected. That's true.
Miss Runt {with redoubled energy). And they don't keep us warm,
when it's cold ; and they blow over our heads when it's windy.
The Ex-Lnprotected {interjectionally). Oh! on the bridges it's dreadful.
Miss Runt {rising with her theme). And they get draggled when it's
wet, and they trip us up when we walk, and they entangle us when we
run, and we can't get over a stile with them, and we 're forced to hold
them up at a crossing, and to put trousers on when we ride; and
gentlemen set their chairs on 'em at dinner ;—and, in short, I ask you,
Mes. Jones, what can be said in favour of 'em ?
The Ex-Unprotected {taken aback by the interrogation). Oh, I'm sure
; T don't know, my dear, unless it is that they hide one's feet, when one
hasn't pretty ones.
Miss Runt. You ought to be ashamed of such vanity, Mes. Jones.
No ; Bloomerism is a great fact, Mrs. Jones—and it must, and will,
triumph! Look here, Mrs. Jones {producing a print of the Bloomer
Costume). I'm sure it's very becoming to a tall and commanding figure
{unconsciously drawing herself up). And we may wear the prettiest
things ; and only six yards to the dress, instead of twelve.
The Ex-Unprotected {examining the print, and considerably shaken by
Miss Runt's argument). Well, it really is rather pretty; but I'm afraid
I'm rather too—that is—not quite young enough for {sighs) blue silk
trousers !
Miss Runt. Pettiloons, Mrs. Jones, is the name.
The Ex-Unprotected. And then 1 must say I've a horror of American
I things, ever since I read about the way they scalp people.
Miss Runt. You confound the Anglo-Saxon American with the Bed-
;| man, Mes. Jones. There's bo connexion between them. I'11 leave
I the prints with you. I must be going.
The Ex-Unprotected. Do wait for tea. Jones will be in directly.
Miss Runt. No; the lecture's fixed for eight.
The Ex-Unprotected. Which lecture ?
Miss Runt. The lecture on Bloomerism at the Soho Theatre.
The Ex-Unprotected. Why, you 're never going—
Miss Runt {meekly). The Committee have requested me to say a few
words, in the costume.
The Ex-Unprotected {clasping her hands). No! you—never. Oh, I'm
j surprised, Miss Runt, that you should ; and you 're going to wear the
j —the pettiloons ? Well, I'm sure !
Miss Runt. And if you '11 only come, and hear the lecture—
The Ex-Unprotected. Oh, really—but here's Jones.
Enter Me. J ones, from the City, rather tired, and disposed for anything
but a grapple with a strong-minded woman.
The Ex-Unprotected. Well, my dear— {rings the bell)—here's Miss
Runt. We'11 have tea directly.
Jones. How d 'ye do, Miss Runt ? {Takes his seat in his own chair,
and stretches his legs on the fender : sees the Bloomer print which Miss
Rust has left.) Eh? What's this? Oh, Bloomersm' Pack of
stu IF and nonsense !
Miss Runt. Sir !—I beg to differ from you; I think it's a most
becoming and rational dress.
Jones. You do, do you ? All very well for school-girls, and the young
lady who rides in it every night at Drury Lane ; and I'm told Miss
Woolgar looks very well in it at, the Adelphi; but only imagine you in it!
Miss Runt {disdainfully). Well, Sir!
Jones {implacably). Or Martha there !
The Ex-Unprotected {defyingly). Well, Me. Jones, and why not?
There's a great deal to be said for it!
Jones. Oh, I've no doubt, with half-a-hundred female lecturers talking
it up all at once; one next door to the Egg-hatching Machine, in
Leicester Square—Capital place for such a precious mare's nest!
Miss Runt {rising with dignity). I am quite prepared for the sneers
and the bigotry, for the prejudice and intolerance of the male sex, Mr.
Jones ; it's what women must expect from you whenever they try
! to raise themselves in the social scale.
Jones {testily). Then, why the deuce, as we're so bigoted, and pre-
judiced, and intolerant, and all that, will you strong-minded women
insist on making yourselves like us ? Eh ! Miss Runt ?—(Miss Runt
■fries to find a smart repartee, but can't; so boils silently, while Jones
! continues)—And as for Bloomerism, I don't mean Maetha to wear the
i breeches, Miss Runt, yet awhile, 1 can tell her.
The Ex-Unprotected {statelily). Me. Jones ! there's no occasion to
be coarse, as well as rude, at all events,
j Jones. Coarse—rude—my dear ?
| The Ex-Unprotected {bitterly). I understand your allusion, Sir, and so
does Miss Runt, I've no doubt—{in a spirit of sudden revolt). But
we both think the Bloomer dress a very becoming and sensible dress,
for all that, Me. Jones.
Jones {laughing sarcastically). I've no doubt we shall have Miss
Runt lecturing upon it next—
Miss Runt {rising). Perhaps, Me. Jones.
Jones. And Maetha listening to you ?
The Ex-Unprotected {rising also). Perhaps, Me. Jones.
Jones {to Miss Runt). Eh? why, you're not going ?— {Aside.) Thank
goodness, she's off.—You won't stay for tea ?
Miss Runt {calmly). No, Sir, thank you. I've an engagement at
eight. Sir, at the Soho Theatre, as one of a Committee of Ladies united
to advocate and introduce the Bloomer Costume. {Proudly.) I'm
going to lecture on the subject.
Mr. Jones {whistles). And where are you off to, Martha ?
The Ex-Unprotected {with awful composure). I'm going to hear Miss
Runt's lecture, Mr. Jones.
[Jones starts up in speechless amazement. Before he can recover his
breath to forbid the Ex-Un protected leaving the house, the
two daring and devoted women have got out of the house. The
Curtain falls on Mr. Jones—FOUDROYE !
FANCY PORTRAIT OF THE GENTLEMAN WHO HAS BEEN
HONOURABLY MENTIONED BY PRINCE ALBERT.
" Honourably Mentioned, indeed ! Is that All ? Scandalous ! "
Miss Runt {drawing breath). However, there's some hope of an im-
provement, in that, Mrs. Jones ?
The Ex-Unprotected. Eh ?
Miss Runt. Yes, thanks to those very superior women—Mes.
Bloomer in America, and Mes. Dextee, here.
The Ex-Unprotected {lifts up her hands in horror). Why, you don't
mean 1o say, my dear—
Miss Runt {with a martyr's exaltation). And why not, Mes. Jones?
Yes, Ma'am, I do mean to say—I think Bloomerism is a great and a
glorious reform in the dress of Woman ; and I mean to adopt it.
{Proudly and firmly.
The Ex-Unprotected {who has caught glimpses of Miss Runt's feet
occasionally, and is familiar with the general character of her figure).
You ! my dear!
Miss Runt {calmly). And why not, Mes. Jones ?
The Ex-Unprotected {feeling that ?/Miss R. does not see the why not,
there can be no hope of making it apparent). Oh, my dear! I don't see
any reason, if you don't—I'm sure—oh, no—
Miss Runt. I see every reason for it, on the contrary, Ma'am. Yon
wear stays. Mes. Jones ?
The Ex- Unprotected. Certainly.
Miss Runt {producing a highly coloured illustration of the awful
consequences of tight-lacing, enforced by the " Venus de Medicis"
in juxtaposition with a Modern Fine Lady). There ! look here, Mes.
Jones ! that's your diaphragm.
The Ex-Unprotected {in horror). You don't say so!
Miss Runt. And those are your lungs, which you see are all squeezed
up; and that's your heart, which you see can't play up and down as
it ought; and that's the liver—and there's the ribs—{the Ex-
l Unprotected is overwhelmed with alarm)—and that's what we should
be like if we didn't wear stays. [Pointing to the "Venus de Medicis."
The Ex-Unprotected {rather horrified). Well; but she wears no stays
1 —and—no nothing—and you wouldn't—
Miss Runt. Then there's the length of our dresses. They sweep the
streets when it's dirty.
The Ex-Unprotected. That's true.
Miss Runt {with redoubled energy). And they don't keep us warm,
when it's cold ; and they blow over our heads when it's windy.
The Ex-Lnprotected {interjectionally). Oh! on the bridges it's dreadful.
Miss Runt {rising with her theme). And they get draggled when it's
wet, and they trip us up when we walk, and they entangle us when we
run, and we can't get over a stile with them, and we 're forced to hold
them up at a crossing, and to put trousers on when we ride; and
gentlemen set their chairs on 'em at dinner ;—and, in short, I ask you,
Mes. Jones, what can be said in favour of 'em ?
The Ex-Unprotected {taken aback by the interrogation). Oh, I'm sure
; T don't know, my dear, unless it is that they hide one's feet, when one
hasn't pretty ones.
Miss Runt. You ought to be ashamed of such vanity, Mes. Jones.
No ; Bloomerism is a great fact, Mrs. Jones—and it must, and will,
triumph! Look here, Mrs. Jones {producing a print of the Bloomer
Costume). I'm sure it's very becoming to a tall and commanding figure
{unconsciously drawing herself up). And we may wear the prettiest
things ; and only six yards to the dress, instead of twelve.
The Ex-Unprotected {examining the print, and considerably shaken by
Miss Runt's argument). Well, it really is rather pretty; but I'm afraid
I'm rather too—that is—not quite young enough for {sighs) blue silk
trousers !
Miss Runt. Pettiloons, Mrs. Jones, is the name.
The Ex-Unprotected. And then 1 must say I've a horror of American
I things, ever since I read about the way they scalp people.
Miss Runt. You confound the Anglo-Saxon American with the Bed-
;| man, Mes. Jones. There's bo connexion between them. I'11 leave
I the prints with you. I must be going.
The Ex-Unprotected. Do wait for tea. Jones will be in directly.
Miss Runt. No; the lecture's fixed for eight.
The Ex-Unprotected. Which lecture ?
Miss Runt. The lecture on Bloomerism at the Soho Theatre.
The Ex-Unprotected. Why, you 're never going—
Miss Runt {meekly). The Committee have requested me to say a few
words, in the costume.
The Ex-Unprotected {clasping her hands). No! you—never. Oh, I'm
j surprised, Miss Runt, that you should ; and you 're going to wear the
j —the pettiloons ? Well, I'm sure !
Miss Runt. And if you '11 only come, and hear the lecture—
The Ex-Unprotected. Oh, really—but here's Jones.
Enter Me. J ones, from the City, rather tired, and disposed for anything
but a grapple with a strong-minded woman.
The Ex-Unprotected. Well, my dear— {rings the bell)—here's Miss
Runt. We'11 have tea directly.
Jones. How d 'ye do, Miss Runt ? {Takes his seat in his own chair,
and stretches his legs on the fender : sees the Bloomer print which Miss
Rust has left.) Eh? What's this? Oh, Bloomersm' Pack of
stu IF and nonsense !
Miss Runt. Sir !—I beg to differ from you; I think it's a most
becoming and rational dress.
Jones. You do, do you ? All very well for school-girls, and the young
lady who rides in it every night at Drury Lane ; and I'm told Miss
Woolgar looks very well in it at, the Adelphi; but only imagine you in it!
Miss Runt {disdainfully). Well, Sir!
Jones {implacably). Or Martha there !
The Ex-Unprotected {defyingly). Well, Me. Jones, and why not?
There's a great deal to be said for it!
Jones. Oh, I've no doubt, with half-a-hundred female lecturers talking
it up all at once; one next door to the Egg-hatching Machine, in
Leicester Square—Capital place for such a precious mare's nest!
Miss Runt {rising with dignity). I am quite prepared for the sneers
and the bigotry, for the prejudice and intolerance of the male sex, Mr.
Jones ; it's what women must expect from you whenever they try
! to raise themselves in the social scale.
Jones {testily). Then, why the deuce, as we're so bigoted, and pre-
judiced, and intolerant, and all that, will you strong-minded women
insist on making yourselves like us ? Eh ! Miss Runt ?—(Miss Runt
■fries to find a smart repartee, but can't; so boils silently, while Jones
! continues)—And as for Bloomerism, I don't mean Maetha to wear the
i breeches, Miss Runt, yet awhile, 1 can tell her.
The Ex-Unprotected {statelily). Me. Jones ! there's no occasion to
be coarse, as well as rude, at all events,
j Jones. Coarse—rude—my dear ?
| The Ex-Unprotected {bitterly). I understand your allusion, Sir, and so
does Miss Runt, I've no doubt—{in a spirit of sudden revolt). But
we both think the Bloomer dress a very becoming and sensible dress,
for all that, Me. Jones.
Jones {laughing sarcastically). I've no doubt we shall have Miss
Runt lecturing upon it next—
Miss Runt {rising). Perhaps, Me. Jones.
Jones. And Maetha listening to you ?
The Ex-Unprotected {rising also). Perhaps, Me. Jones.
Jones {to Miss Runt). Eh? why, you're not going ?— {Aside.) Thank
goodness, she's off.—You won't stay for tea ?
Miss Runt {calmly). No, Sir, thank you. I've an engagement at
eight. Sir, at the Soho Theatre, as one of a Committee of Ladies united
to advocate and introduce the Bloomer Costume. {Proudly.) I'm
going to lecture on the subject.
Mr. Jones {whistles). And where are you off to, Martha ?
The Ex-Unprotected {with awful composure). I'm going to hear Miss
Runt's lecture, Mr. Jones.
[Jones starts up in speechless amazement. Before he can recover his
breath to forbid the Ex-Un protected leaving the house, the
two daring and devoted women have got out of the house. The
Curtain falls on Mr. Jones—FOUDROYE !
FANCY PORTRAIT OF THE GENTLEMAN WHO HAS BEEN
HONOURABLY MENTIONED BY PRINCE ALBERT.
" Honourably Mentioned, indeed ! Is that All ? Scandalous ! "