DOI issue:
July to December, 1851
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16608#0220
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
209
putting aside the dread of sheriff's officers for certain unpaid damages,
were Schwartzenburg himself to visit the Metropolis—great would be
the welcome of the illustrious new-comers. The doors of palatial
mansions would turn on their harmonious hingps to take them in.
How, for instance, did English aristocracy kiss the boots of Nicholas
—how did the fair English aristocracy mantle and blush, sublimated for
life, by the condescending salute of the emperor: at the imperial touch,
mere human blood became ichor ?
Kossuth went his victorious way to Guildhall; and there, in a brief
hour, did good battle against Austria and; Russia.—There, in that
pacific hall, the Hungarian did as mortal injury to despotism, as did
ever his iron artillery. Some words are things; things irresistible as
cannon-balls; but with an immortality in them not to be spent. Such
words are the words of God-gifted men; of men like Kossuth ; whom
to hear, is to listen to a noble human lesson—whom to look at, seen
through the glorious halo of his deeds and sufferings, is a sight that for
the time ennobles the beholder.
Kossuth went to receive the homage paid him by the people of the
City of London, without pomp—without display. The straight-forward
simplicity of the man found fitting harmony in the unstudied welcome
that was given him by the mere people. The people were at once his
guards and his entertainers. And for the foul, miserable lies, made to
blacken the name of a man whose reputation is unspotted—lustrous as
a sunbeam—they, too, were represented—typified, and to be found in
the dirt in the path of Kossuth—the dirt trodden by the feet of
Kossuth's horses.
THE BLOOMER BALL-
{Suggested by Alfred Tennyson's "Locksley Sail,")
Gents ! produce your fifteen shillings; take a cab, and pay the fare:
Bid the driver wait till wanted, near to Hanover's famed Square.
'Tis the place ; and all around it crowds collect, who shout and call
At the people driving onwards to attend the Bloomer Ball:
Bloomer Ball—that in the papers promised much that might attract
Quite an overflow of people, rushing like a cataract.
Many a night to yonder building have I journey'd, nicely dress'd,
To a ball or evening concert, patronised by all the West:
Many a night I saw the broughams coming forward through the shade,
Glittering, with their lamps all lighted, like a line of silver braid.
Oh ! my Bloomers, chicken-hearted! Oh ! my Bloomers, what a fall!
Oh ! the dreary, dreary aspect of the barren Bloomer Ball!
Seedier than fancy dresses ; dirtier than Showman's stocks,
Half-a-dozen pairs of trousers, half-a-dozen school-girls' frocks.
'Tis as well, perchance, that ladies should avoid the London dirt,
By a higher range of clothing and a somewhat shorter skirt;
But it cannot be expected we shall ever see the day
When, in gentlemanly trousers, they '11 be figuring away.
As the husband, shall the wife be; he will have to wear a gown,
If he does not quickly make her put her Bloomer short-coats down.
Who can say—what lengths to go to—'tis too difficult by half;
Some are higher than the knee, some are lower than the calf.
'Tis the Ball! but, oh! how dreary!—men and women don't combine;
for, the latter to the former, are as one to ninety-nine.
Thinly scattered are the females, scorning custom's decent rules •
Dense the pack of men assembled, looking like a crowd of fools.
Well! 'tis well that 'tis a failure ; had it more successful proved,
Perhaps the hateful Bloomer nuisance for a time had onwards moved.
Where's the beauty in concealment of an ankle neatly turn'd?
Though they 're right in closely hiding legs that are as awkward spurn'd.
I remember one on Monday—heavily she moved about.
With a foot that might be taken for a martyr to the gout.
* * * " * *
Yearning for the large excitement that a Bloomer Ball might yield,
Many thought, for some amusement, they might in it find a field;
And at night along the pavement, near the corner of the Square,
At each new alighting Bloomer, stood a noisy crowd to stare :
But the crowd was disappointed, seeing what it witnessed then;
Scarcely half-a-dozen Bloomers, nearly seven hundred men.
Men the Guardsmen, men the idlers, men with nought on earth to do,
But, to seek, and dearly pay for, anything on earth that's new.
As I stepped into the bail-room, far as any eye could see,
Saw t he crowd of men on town, closely pack'd as close could be ;
Saw the patent leather-boots—saw the coat with well-cut tail—
Saw the Gibus hats, white chokers, and the embroider'd shirt of male.
Heard the rooms all filled with shouting, and there rose a mocking cheer,
When that rarity, a Bloomer, 'mongst them happened to appear.
********
Not in vain the Bloomer movement. Forward ! forward, let us range!
Set the world of fashion spinning—all improvement comes from change.
'Twixt the two extremes of folly common sense is always found,
'Twixt the skirt above the knees, and the skirt that sweeps the ground.
Howsoever these things be, I shall leave the Bloomer Ball:
Not for me the promisedsupper—hence with jellies, tarts, and all.
Comes an odour up a staircase—savouring of low-priced wine;
Let it make another's head ache, for it shall not fuddle mine.
Let it fall, the Bloomer Ball—never was a thing so slow.
Now the gents are getting noisy—cheering, hooting—off I go!
THE LEADER OF A FRENCH NEWSPAPER.
French Editors (if there is such a thing as a French Editor still exist-
ing—out of prison) are puzzled to know what to write about. _ If they
write about politics, their paper is sure to be confiscated, if those
politics are not exactly to the taste of the President. Still their paper
must be filled—and, to avoid imprisonment, and at the same time fill
their columns with something, it is not unusual to meet with a Leader
like the following, dressed in all the honours of the largest type:
"WHAT WILL BECOME OP FRANCE?
"We have asked—and asked—until we are tired of asking.
" Where's the use of asking, if you never get a reply ?_
" Echo would answer ' Where'—only she has got the influenza.
" Yesterday there was a new moon.
"Do you think the Hedgehog is happy, because he hasn't to shave
every morning ?
" Hark! what fearful cry was that ?
" It was the cry of ' Marchand d'Habi-i-i-its '—but the Seine will not
contain one dead cat the less for that to-morrow!
" Of all the Mysteries of Paris, Sausages are the greatest!!!
" We could weep, only onions are too dear.
" Twice happy is the man who can cut his own hair!
" The sun will rise to-morrow, and rise the day after that, and per-
haps the day after that, and yet the Government will not dare to lay
hands upon him for inciting the people to Rise !
" And yet upwards of thirty carrots were pulled up yesterday by a
Garde Champetre upon the plea of their being Bouges !!!!
" Foreigners may have several complaints that lie at their doors, but
none can lie so much as a French Porter.
" Two and two make four—and we hope the Procureur-General will
not prosecute us for saying so—for really we know no better.
" Bevolutions are the madness of many Frenchmen, for the gam of
very few. .
" Write a political article in haste, and repent in prison at leisure.
" It is rarely you see a married couple, both of whom squint.
" Brew your quarrels at home, if you like, but do not expect every
one who calls to partake of them.
" A man's choicest thoughts are lost in his nightcap.
" Mahomet's paradise is imperfect; there are no beds m it!
" Christmas comes but once a year!
"Still it is most difficult to say—and we must again repeat our
question, which ends our Leader—
"wha.t ever will become of france ?
{Signed) " Victor Tircarotte.
209
putting aside the dread of sheriff's officers for certain unpaid damages,
were Schwartzenburg himself to visit the Metropolis—great would be
the welcome of the illustrious new-comers. The doors of palatial
mansions would turn on their harmonious hingps to take them in.
How, for instance, did English aristocracy kiss the boots of Nicholas
—how did the fair English aristocracy mantle and blush, sublimated for
life, by the condescending salute of the emperor: at the imperial touch,
mere human blood became ichor ?
Kossuth went his victorious way to Guildhall; and there, in a brief
hour, did good battle against Austria and; Russia.—There, in that
pacific hall, the Hungarian did as mortal injury to despotism, as did
ever his iron artillery. Some words are things; things irresistible as
cannon-balls; but with an immortality in them not to be spent. Such
words are the words of God-gifted men; of men like Kossuth ; whom
to hear, is to listen to a noble human lesson—whom to look at, seen
through the glorious halo of his deeds and sufferings, is a sight that for
the time ennobles the beholder.
Kossuth went to receive the homage paid him by the people of the
City of London, without pomp—without display. The straight-forward
simplicity of the man found fitting harmony in the unstudied welcome
that was given him by the mere people. The people were at once his
guards and his entertainers. And for the foul, miserable lies, made to
blacken the name of a man whose reputation is unspotted—lustrous as
a sunbeam—they, too, were represented—typified, and to be found in
the dirt in the path of Kossuth—the dirt trodden by the feet of
Kossuth's horses.
THE BLOOMER BALL-
{Suggested by Alfred Tennyson's "Locksley Sail,")
Gents ! produce your fifteen shillings; take a cab, and pay the fare:
Bid the driver wait till wanted, near to Hanover's famed Square.
'Tis the place ; and all around it crowds collect, who shout and call
At the people driving onwards to attend the Bloomer Ball:
Bloomer Ball—that in the papers promised much that might attract
Quite an overflow of people, rushing like a cataract.
Many a night to yonder building have I journey'd, nicely dress'd,
To a ball or evening concert, patronised by all the West:
Many a night I saw the broughams coming forward through the shade,
Glittering, with their lamps all lighted, like a line of silver braid.
Oh ! my Bloomers, chicken-hearted! Oh ! my Bloomers, what a fall!
Oh ! the dreary, dreary aspect of the barren Bloomer Ball!
Seedier than fancy dresses ; dirtier than Showman's stocks,
Half-a-dozen pairs of trousers, half-a-dozen school-girls' frocks.
'Tis as well, perchance, that ladies should avoid the London dirt,
By a higher range of clothing and a somewhat shorter skirt;
But it cannot be expected we shall ever see the day
When, in gentlemanly trousers, they '11 be figuring away.
As the husband, shall the wife be; he will have to wear a gown,
If he does not quickly make her put her Bloomer short-coats down.
Who can say—what lengths to go to—'tis too difficult by half;
Some are higher than the knee, some are lower than the calf.
'Tis the Ball! but, oh! how dreary!—men and women don't combine;
for, the latter to the former, are as one to ninety-nine.
Thinly scattered are the females, scorning custom's decent rules •
Dense the pack of men assembled, looking like a crowd of fools.
Well! 'tis well that 'tis a failure ; had it more successful proved,
Perhaps the hateful Bloomer nuisance for a time had onwards moved.
Where's the beauty in concealment of an ankle neatly turn'd?
Though they 're right in closely hiding legs that are as awkward spurn'd.
I remember one on Monday—heavily she moved about.
With a foot that might be taken for a martyr to the gout.
* * * " * *
Yearning for the large excitement that a Bloomer Ball might yield,
Many thought, for some amusement, they might in it find a field;
And at night along the pavement, near the corner of the Square,
At each new alighting Bloomer, stood a noisy crowd to stare :
But the crowd was disappointed, seeing what it witnessed then;
Scarcely half-a-dozen Bloomers, nearly seven hundred men.
Men the Guardsmen, men the idlers, men with nought on earth to do,
But, to seek, and dearly pay for, anything on earth that's new.
As I stepped into the bail-room, far as any eye could see,
Saw t he crowd of men on town, closely pack'd as close could be ;
Saw the patent leather-boots—saw the coat with well-cut tail—
Saw the Gibus hats, white chokers, and the embroider'd shirt of male.
Heard the rooms all filled with shouting, and there rose a mocking cheer,
When that rarity, a Bloomer, 'mongst them happened to appear.
********
Not in vain the Bloomer movement. Forward ! forward, let us range!
Set the world of fashion spinning—all improvement comes from change.
'Twixt the two extremes of folly common sense is always found,
'Twixt the skirt above the knees, and the skirt that sweeps the ground.
Howsoever these things be, I shall leave the Bloomer Ball:
Not for me the promisedsupper—hence with jellies, tarts, and all.
Comes an odour up a staircase—savouring of low-priced wine;
Let it make another's head ache, for it shall not fuddle mine.
Let it fall, the Bloomer Ball—never was a thing so slow.
Now the gents are getting noisy—cheering, hooting—off I go!
THE LEADER OF A FRENCH NEWSPAPER.
French Editors (if there is such a thing as a French Editor still exist-
ing—out of prison) are puzzled to know what to write about. _ If they
write about politics, their paper is sure to be confiscated, if those
politics are not exactly to the taste of the President. Still their paper
must be filled—and, to avoid imprisonment, and at the same time fill
their columns with something, it is not unusual to meet with a Leader
like the following, dressed in all the honours of the largest type:
"WHAT WILL BECOME OP FRANCE?
"We have asked—and asked—until we are tired of asking.
" Where's the use of asking, if you never get a reply ?_
" Echo would answer ' Where'—only she has got the influenza.
" Yesterday there was a new moon.
"Do you think the Hedgehog is happy, because he hasn't to shave
every morning ?
" Hark! what fearful cry was that ?
" It was the cry of ' Marchand d'Habi-i-i-its '—but the Seine will not
contain one dead cat the less for that to-morrow!
" Of all the Mysteries of Paris, Sausages are the greatest!!!
" We could weep, only onions are too dear.
" Twice happy is the man who can cut his own hair!
" The sun will rise to-morrow, and rise the day after that, and per-
haps the day after that, and yet the Government will not dare to lay
hands upon him for inciting the people to Rise !
" And yet upwards of thirty carrots were pulled up yesterday by a
Garde Champetre upon the plea of their being Bouges !!!!
" Foreigners may have several complaints that lie at their doors, but
none can lie so much as a French Porter.
" Two and two make four—and we hope the Procureur-General will
not prosecute us for saying so—for really we know no better.
" Bevolutions are the madness of many Frenchmen, for the gam of
very few. .
" Write a political article in haste, and repent in prison at leisure.
" It is rarely you see a married couple, both of whom squint.
" Brew your quarrels at home, if you like, but do not expect every
one who calls to partake of them.
" A man's choicest thoughts are lost in his nightcap.
" Mahomet's paradise is imperfect; there are no beds m it!
" Christmas comes but once a year!
"Still it is most difficult to say—and we must again repeat our
question, which ends our Leader—
"wha.t ever will become of france ?
{Signed) " Victor Tircarotte.