DOI issue:
July to December, 1851
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16608#0264
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
253
You will conceive me—are a type, yes, just a type,
Of this our day.
The dumb and monstrous, tasteless appetite
Of stupid Boa, to gobble up for food
What needs must scour, or suffocate,
Not nourish!
My friend ; let the wool of that one blanket
Warm but the back of one live sheep,
And the Boa would bolt the animal entire,
And flourish on his meal, transmuting flesh and
bones,
And turning them to healthful nutriment!
Believe this vital truth;
The stomach may take down and digest
And sweetly, too, a leg of mutton ;
That would turn at and reject
One little ball of worsted ! "
On saying this, I turned away;
Feeling adown the small-o'-the back
That gentle warmth that waits upon us, when
we know
We have said a good thing;
Knowing it better than the vain world
Ever can or ever will.
Reader, I have sung my song!
The Boa and the B--, like new-found star,
Is mine no longer; but the world's !—
Tell me, how have I sung it ? With wnai
note?
With note akin to that immortal bard
The snow-white Swan of Avon?
Or haply, to that
—Rara avis,
—That has
—" Tried Warren's ?
SIGNS OF THE TIMES.
When a man makes his wife a handsome present, it is a sign they
have been quarrelling recently.
When a young lady " has a very bad cold, or else she'd be delighted,"
&c, it is rather a dangerous sign that, when once she sits down to
the piano, she will probably not leave it for the remainder of the
evening.
When a gentleman loses his temper in talking, it is a tolerably correct
sign that he is getting " the worst of the argument."
When a lady falls into hysterics, or faints, you may safely look upon
it, without being in the least accused of want of charity, as a sign of
extreme weakness on her part.
When you see the servant carrying under her apron a bottle of soda-
water into a house, you may at once seize it as a sure sign that some
one has been drinking over-night.
When you see a Theatre breaking out with a violent eruption of
bills, and posters, and placards, proclaiming "a Blaze of Triumph," or
" an Unprecedented Success," you may view it as a true sign that that
Theatre is not doing much.
When you see a shop bursting out in the same way, you may follow
it as a sign which will safely guide you to the same conclusion.
When the children are always up in the nursery, you may construe it
into a sure sign that the mother does not care much about them.
When an author invites a number of his literary friends and critics to
dinner, you may take it as an infallible sign that he is about to bring
out a new book.
When you see a pursy old gentleman rise on his legs, and request
" the ladies and gentlemen to fill their glasses," you may consider it a
hopeless sign that he is about to propose a toast, and you may as well
make up your mind that from that moment there will be an end to the
amusement of the evening.
When you see the " lady of the house " casting her eye anxiously
.ound the dinner-table, in the hope of catching the other ladies' eyes,
you may put it down as a prophetic sign that you will shortly lose " the
society of the ladies," who, rising in a body, and retiring into the
drawing-room, will "leave the gentlemen to enjoy their wine" (as if
gentlemen could only enjoy wine by themselves)!
When the host asks, " Will you have any more wine, gentlemen? "
you may take it as a pretty broad sign that you are expected to " go
up-stairs and join the ladies "—and that his next speech will be, if not
in those very words, very nearly to that effect.
When a young couple are 3een visiting a " Cheap Furniture Mart,"
you may interpret it into a pretty fair sign that " the happy day " is not
far distant.
When you see a man go up in a balloon, or turn Director of a Rail-
way, or the Lessee of a Play-House, you have a right, if you like, to
look upon it as a sign of Madness.
When the boys begin to tear up their books, it is a sign the holidays
are about to commence.
When the subject of an article is exhausted, it is a sign to leave off.
Curious Coincidence.
Wordsworth tells us of his hero, Peter Bell, that—
A primrose by the river's brim
A yellow primrose was to him,
And it was nothing more.
A likeness to Peter may be found in his namesake, Jacob Bell, M.P.
As Peter looked with indifference on the beautiful objects of Nature,
so doth Jacob on similarly beautiful ones of Society. May we not say
of the hero of St. Albans, that—
A sovereign with a yellow rim
A yellow metal was to him,
And it was nothing more.
WILL WATCH IN THE CITY.
he name of "Will Watch,
the Bold Smug-
gler," is familiar
to most of us.
Some of us have—
perhaps towards
the close of an
evening's recrea-
tion—heard the
song wherein that
hero has been cele-
brated. The pre-
sent abode of Mr.
William Watch
is supposed to be
rather a solitary
one; a small re-
ceptacle some-
where on some
sea-beach, over
which the waves
dash, and the wind
whistles, and near
whereunto the electric fluid has smitten a certain tree. This is incorrect.
Will Watch exists at present in the City of London, under an alias
indeed, but alive and kicking, as hard as he can kick with his heels,
against public opinion, which disapproves of him. Fancy pictures this
eminent contrabandist as an able-bodied seaman in fierce mustaches,
long curls, a Flushing jacket, a white kilt, jack boots, and a leather waist-
band, whereby hangs a cutlass, and wherein are stuck a dirk and several
pairs of pistols. But the real Mr. Watch is remarkable for the ro-
tundity, rather than the muscularity or symmetry, of his proportion. His
costume is that of a respectable citizen ; roomy but not otherwise loose.
About his person he sometimes wears a gold chain, much exceeding
in circumference the belt of the ideal Watch. He differs from the
imaginary smuggler, also, in generally sporting gaiters instead of jack-
boots ; his lower extremities being subject to an affection requiring
attention to warmth. Such is the Will Watch of the City, whose
last great achievement consisted in smuggling four words into an Act of
Parliament, and thereby enabling himself and his crew to levy black-
mail on all the coal brought within twenty miles of London. This is
the smuggler Will Watch, whose exploits might most appropriately
be sung at a Coal Hole.
As the City Will Watch cannot much longer be suffered to commit
his depredations on our hearths and our homes, it is probable that he
will soon be " done up " in his nefarious business ; and then, perhaps,
in our visits to the Bank, we shall see an Aldermanic figure, of diminished
corpulence, slinking about the purlieus of the Mansion-House, and
inviting the passenger of youthful or agricultural appearance into the
slums, to inspect a box of foreign cigars.
An Impudent Cabman.—A Cabman rebuts the charge against his
fraternity of extorting more than eight-pence a-mile, by the argument
I hat eight-pence is their mean fare.
City Reform.
We are told in the papers that the Council-room of the Mansion
House wants ventilating, this is not the only Room for improvement,
we are afraid, in the Mansion House; for, if you ask us, we think that
the whole system of management that is pursued there, and in other
offices of the Corporation, stands in the greatest need of ventilation.
Consolation for Oxford.
Oxford has, hitherto, been considered as a nursery for statesmen;
but the fact that not one individual has been found to take the highest
honours there this year, has given rise to some apprehension that Alma
Mater has turned out no future Premier, or Lord Chancellor, in 1851.
But though no Oxford man has taken the first class, it is expected, on
the whole, that there will be an average number of Oxonians in the
Parliamentary train.
253
You will conceive me—are a type, yes, just a type,
Of this our day.
The dumb and monstrous, tasteless appetite
Of stupid Boa, to gobble up for food
What needs must scour, or suffocate,
Not nourish!
My friend ; let the wool of that one blanket
Warm but the back of one live sheep,
And the Boa would bolt the animal entire,
And flourish on his meal, transmuting flesh and
bones,
And turning them to healthful nutriment!
Believe this vital truth;
The stomach may take down and digest
And sweetly, too, a leg of mutton ;
That would turn at and reject
One little ball of worsted ! "
On saying this, I turned away;
Feeling adown the small-o'-the back
That gentle warmth that waits upon us, when
we know
We have said a good thing;
Knowing it better than the vain world
Ever can or ever will.
Reader, I have sung my song!
The Boa and the B--, like new-found star,
Is mine no longer; but the world's !—
Tell me, how have I sung it ? With wnai
note?
With note akin to that immortal bard
The snow-white Swan of Avon?
Or haply, to that
—Rara avis,
—That has
—" Tried Warren's ?
SIGNS OF THE TIMES.
When a man makes his wife a handsome present, it is a sign they
have been quarrelling recently.
When a young lady " has a very bad cold, or else she'd be delighted,"
&c, it is rather a dangerous sign that, when once she sits down to
the piano, she will probably not leave it for the remainder of the
evening.
When a gentleman loses his temper in talking, it is a tolerably correct
sign that he is getting " the worst of the argument."
When a lady falls into hysterics, or faints, you may safely look upon
it, without being in the least accused of want of charity, as a sign of
extreme weakness on her part.
When you see the servant carrying under her apron a bottle of soda-
water into a house, you may at once seize it as a sure sign that some
one has been drinking over-night.
When you see a Theatre breaking out with a violent eruption of
bills, and posters, and placards, proclaiming "a Blaze of Triumph," or
" an Unprecedented Success," you may view it as a true sign that that
Theatre is not doing much.
When you see a shop bursting out in the same way, you may follow
it as a sign which will safely guide you to the same conclusion.
When the children are always up in the nursery, you may construe it
into a sure sign that the mother does not care much about them.
When an author invites a number of his literary friends and critics to
dinner, you may take it as an infallible sign that he is about to bring
out a new book.
When you see a pursy old gentleman rise on his legs, and request
" the ladies and gentlemen to fill their glasses," you may consider it a
hopeless sign that he is about to propose a toast, and you may as well
make up your mind that from that moment there will be an end to the
amusement of the evening.
When you see the " lady of the house " casting her eye anxiously
.ound the dinner-table, in the hope of catching the other ladies' eyes,
you may put it down as a prophetic sign that you will shortly lose " the
society of the ladies," who, rising in a body, and retiring into the
drawing-room, will "leave the gentlemen to enjoy their wine" (as if
gentlemen could only enjoy wine by themselves)!
When the host asks, " Will you have any more wine, gentlemen? "
you may take it as a pretty broad sign that you are expected to " go
up-stairs and join the ladies "—and that his next speech will be, if not
in those very words, very nearly to that effect.
When a young couple are 3een visiting a " Cheap Furniture Mart,"
you may interpret it into a pretty fair sign that " the happy day " is not
far distant.
When you see a man go up in a balloon, or turn Director of a Rail-
way, or the Lessee of a Play-House, you have a right, if you like, to
look upon it as a sign of Madness.
When the boys begin to tear up their books, it is a sign the holidays
are about to commence.
When the subject of an article is exhausted, it is a sign to leave off.
Curious Coincidence.
Wordsworth tells us of his hero, Peter Bell, that—
A primrose by the river's brim
A yellow primrose was to him,
And it was nothing more.
A likeness to Peter may be found in his namesake, Jacob Bell, M.P.
As Peter looked with indifference on the beautiful objects of Nature,
so doth Jacob on similarly beautiful ones of Society. May we not say
of the hero of St. Albans, that—
A sovereign with a yellow rim
A yellow metal was to him,
And it was nothing more.
WILL WATCH IN THE CITY.
he name of "Will Watch,
the Bold Smug-
gler," is familiar
to most of us.
Some of us have—
perhaps towards
the close of an
evening's recrea-
tion—heard the
song wherein that
hero has been cele-
brated. The pre-
sent abode of Mr.
William Watch
is supposed to be
rather a solitary
one; a small re-
ceptacle some-
where on some
sea-beach, over
which the waves
dash, and the wind
whistles, and near
whereunto the electric fluid has smitten a certain tree. This is incorrect.
Will Watch exists at present in the City of London, under an alias
indeed, but alive and kicking, as hard as he can kick with his heels,
against public opinion, which disapproves of him. Fancy pictures this
eminent contrabandist as an able-bodied seaman in fierce mustaches,
long curls, a Flushing jacket, a white kilt, jack boots, and a leather waist-
band, whereby hangs a cutlass, and wherein are stuck a dirk and several
pairs of pistols. But the real Mr. Watch is remarkable for the ro-
tundity, rather than the muscularity or symmetry, of his proportion. His
costume is that of a respectable citizen ; roomy but not otherwise loose.
About his person he sometimes wears a gold chain, much exceeding
in circumference the belt of the ideal Watch. He differs from the
imaginary smuggler, also, in generally sporting gaiters instead of jack-
boots ; his lower extremities being subject to an affection requiring
attention to warmth. Such is the Will Watch of the City, whose
last great achievement consisted in smuggling four words into an Act of
Parliament, and thereby enabling himself and his crew to levy black-
mail on all the coal brought within twenty miles of London. This is
the smuggler Will Watch, whose exploits might most appropriately
be sung at a Coal Hole.
As the City Will Watch cannot much longer be suffered to commit
his depredations on our hearths and our homes, it is probable that he
will soon be " done up " in his nefarious business ; and then, perhaps,
in our visits to the Bank, we shall see an Aldermanic figure, of diminished
corpulence, slinking about the purlieus of the Mansion-House, and
inviting the passenger of youthful or agricultural appearance into the
slums, to inspect a box of foreign cigars.
An Impudent Cabman.—A Cabman rebuts the charge against his
fraternity of extorting more than eight-pence a-mile, by the argument
I hat eight-pence is their mean fare.
City Reform.
We are told in the papers that the Council-room of the Mansion
House wants ventilating, this is not the only Room for improvement,
we are afraid, in the Mansion House; for, if you ask us, we think that
the whole system of management that is pursued there, and in other
offices of the Corporation, stands in the greatest need of ventilation.
Consolation for Oxford.
Oxford has, hitherto, been considered as a nursery for statesmen;
but the fact that not one individual has been found to take the highest
honours there this year, has given rise to some apprehension that Alma
Mater has turned out no future Premier, or Lord Chancellor, in 1851.
But though no Oxford man has taken the first class, it is expected, on
the whole, that there will be an average number of Oxonians in the
Parliamentary train.