DOI issue:
July to December, 1853
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16612#0185
174
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
“THE COMING STRUGGLE.”
E speculations about the “ Coming
Man ” have amused us for some years ;
but expectation having been tired out
by waiting for the “man,” who, though
always “ Coming, coming, coming ! ”
never came, a new dodge has been
started, and we are now called upon—
in a pamphlet, price 6A.—to prepare for
the “ Coming Struggle” According to
the author of this rather lucrative specu-
lation the world is very shortly to be at
an end, and indeed, it seems that we
may as well make arrangements for ter-
minating all business transactions in
1866, for after that the Millennium is
to commence, when x>ecuniary affairs
are to be a matter of total indifference.
If the author of the “ Coming Struggle ”
is to be believed—and between 100,000
and 200,000 copies of his “ speculation ”
appear to have been sold, which looks
as if some people put faith in his an-
nouncements—we may expect most of
the public companies to begin winding
themselves up, and the Insurance offices
especially should already begin to refuse
insurances on healthy lives, for after
1866 no policy will be payable.
Such is the credulity of the age, that
the author of the “ Coming Struggle ”
will, probably, realise by this sixpenny
“ spec.,” a very nice little competency.
We would advise him, however, not to carry the experiment too far, or he will invest in paper and
rint all that he has made: and he has already shown symptoms of a tendency to over-do the thing
y bringing out a ‘'Supplement to the Coming Struggle,”-price, also 6d. Sequels are never successful,
and having finished off the world comfortably in his first book, we think him injudicious to try the
experiment of another. Poor Murphy made a hit with one “ Weather Almanack,” and, if he had left
the thing alone, he might have preserved his reputation as a prophet, but when, unfortunately, he
risked another shot and predicted a “ coldest day,” on which the thermometer was at 60 in the
shade, there was an end to his “ Weather Almanack ” as a source of income. We advise the “Coming
Struggle” gentleman to be warned in time and not to speculate in “supplements,” or “sequels,”
but to go altogether on a new tack if he wishes to “put money in his purse,” which is probably the
chief aim of his " philosophy.”
A ROYAL “LUNCH ” PREVENTED.
It must be a relief, indeed, to Her Majesty to get away flo Scotland, where in the retirement of
Balmoral she is at least free from the importunities of that sort of loyalty which deprives her of the
common comforts of a private individual. Provincial Mayors are perhaps the greatest pests that
Royalty has to encounter; and the Preston Corporation seems to have made itself a fearful bore on
the return of the Queen from Scotland. No sooner was it understood that Her Majesty would stop
at Preston fifteen minutes to take luncheon, than the Town Clerk issued a circular to all the membeiT'
of the Corporation, calling on them to meet for the purpose of deciding how the fifteen minutes Her
Majesty had allowed herself for refreshment could be consumed by some municipal twaddle, of
which Royalty was to be made the recipient. Instead of the Qtjeen being suffered to take her
hurried basin of mock-turtle at the station, she was to be bothered with calf’s head, in the shape of the
Mayor, and a dish of hash was to be set before her in the form of an adulatory address from the
authorl ies.
It is indeed hard that Royalty cannot get a quarter of an hour free for luncheon on a long journey,
but is compelled to give up every minute of spare time to the swallowing of a quantity of unwholesome
stuff in the way of flattery from the authorities. We admire a loyal address when circumstances
render it appropriate and convenient; but to intercept Her Majesty at every resting point on her
way, and subject her to the fatigue of listening to and answering a mass of commonplace rubbish
from the mouth of a Mayor, is no less impertinent on the part of the authorities, than it must be
annoying to the Sovereign. We are quite sure that the Queen would prefer a sandwich to a puff,
and a glass of sherry to all the milk-and-water in the world—notwithstanding all the sugar that the
authorities might put into it.
precocious taste for gunpowder; but
consider the tender months of baby
Leopold ! A suckling, and saluted
with a smack of thunder.
Poor little heart! No doubt Granny
Britannia means the noise as an evi-
dence of her love • but, we needs must
think it a proof of her foolishness.
Hear little rose-buds ! Why not go
to be kissed at Windsor in all their
innocent freshness ? Why should they
be forwarded to their parents, new too
from Scotland, smelling of gunpowder
in which is so much brimstone ?
OUR TRAVELLING CONTRIBUTOR,
AFTER A SEVERE ATTACK OF
IJVJV-FLUENZA.
HOW BRITANNIA SALUTES HER BABIES !
Britannia—like a most careful mother—expends a world of powder on her babies. A week ago she
flourished the powder-puff regardless of expense; and regardless of noise. Her three youngest royal
babies—the Princess Louisa, aged five years; the Prince Arthur, aged three; and the dear little
poppet Prince Leopold, aged not one - were all of them brought down from the nursery at Osborne,
and—with their nurses—embarked on board the Fairy to cross to Portsmouth, on their way to Windsor
Castle, to be smothered with kisses by one of the best of mammas, and one of the tenderest of fathers.
Well, the precious babies passing through Spithead “ were saluted by the Blenheim, by the garrison,
and by the Victory, flag-ship; ” and this was ordered by Grannam Britannia, who, we think, by
such smoke and pother rather exposes her dotage than shows her affection. Why should the
“ adamantine lips ” of sixty-eight pounders salute those little babies ? Louisa, being five years old,
may be a little seasoned to the custom; and Arthur—(as godson to the Duke)—may have a
Retaliation.
Photography, it was erroneously
stated, had enabled forgers to commit
frauds upon the Bank of England. Had
it been true, the retribution would
have been just. The Bank issues light
sovereigns—why not repay it with
Light five-pound notes ?
How to Mull Porte.—Ask Lord
Aberdeen.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
“THE COMING STRUGGLE.”
E speculations about the “ Coming
Man ” have amused us for some years ;
but expectation having been tired out
by waiting for the “man,” who, though
always “ Coming, coming, coming ! ”
never came, a new dodge has been
started, and we are now called upon—
in a pamphlet, price 6A.—to prepare for
the “ Coming Struggle” According to
the author of this rather lucrative specu-
lation the world is very shortly to be at
an end, and indeed, it seems that we
may as well make arrangements for ter-
minating all business transactions in
1866, for after that the Millennium is
to commence, when x>ecuniary affairs
are to be a matter of total indifference.
If the author of the “ Coming Struggle ”
is to be believed—and between 100,000
and 200,000 copies of his “ speculation ”
appear to have been sold, which looks
as if some people put faith in his an-
nouncements—we may expect most of
the public companies to begin winding
themselves up, and the Insurance offices
especially should already begin to refuse
insurances on healthy lives, for after
1866 no policy will be payable.
Such is the credulity of the age, that
the author of the “ Coming Struggle ”
will, probably, realise by this sixpenny
“ spec.,” a very nice little competency.
We would advise him, however, not to carry the experiment too far, or he will invest in paper and
rint all that he has made: and he has already shown symptoms of a tendency to over-do the thing
y bringing out a ‘'Supplement to the Coming Struggle,”-price, also 6d. Sequels are never successful,
and having finished off the world comfortably in his first book, we think him injudicious to try the
experiment of another. Poor Murphy made a hit with one “ Weather Almanack,” and, if he had left
the thing alone, he might have preserved his reputation as a prophet, but when, unfortunately, he
risked another shot and predicted a “ coldest day,” on which the thermometer was at 60 in the
shade, there was an end to his “ Weather Almanack ” as a source of income. We advise the “Coming
Struggle” gentleman to be warned in time and not to speculate in “supplements,” or “sequels,”
but to go altogether on a new tack if he wishes to “put money in his purse,” which is probably the
chief aim of his " philosophy.”
A ROYAL “LUNCH ” PREVENTED.
It must be a relief, indeed, to Her Majesty to get away flo Scotland, where in the retirement of
Balmoral she is at least free from the importunities of that sort of loyalty which deprives her of the
common comforts of a private individual. Provincial Mayors are perhaps the greatest pests that
Royalty has to encounter; and the Preston Corporation seems to have made itself a fearful bore on
the return of the Queen from Scotland. No sooner was it understood that Her Majesty would stop
at Preston fifteen minutes to take luncheon, than the Town Clerk issued a circular to all the membeiT'
of the Corporation, calling on them to meet for the purpose of deciding how the fifteen minutes Her
Majesty had allowed herself for refreshment could be consumed by some municipal twaddle, of
which Royalty was to be made the recipient. Instead of the Qtjeen being suffered to take her
hurried basin of mock-turtle at the station, she was to be bothered with calf’s head, in the shape of the
Mayor, and a dish of hash was to be set before her in the form of an adulatory address from the
authorl ies.
It is indeed hard that Royalty cannot get a quarter of an hour free for luncheon on a long journey,
but is compelled to give up every minute of spare time to the swallowing of a quantity of unwholesome
stuff in the way of flattery from the authorities. We admire a loyal address when circumstances
render it appropriate and convenient; but to intercept Her Majesty at every resting point on her
way, and subject her to the fatigue of listening to and answering a mass of commonplace rubbish
from the mouth of a Mayor, is no less impertinent on the part of the authorities, than it must be
annoying to the Sovereign. We are quite sure that the Queen would prefer a sandwich to a puff,
and a glass of sherry to all the milk-and-water in the world—notwithstanding all the sugar that the
authorities might put into it.
precocious taste for gunpowder; but
consider the tender months of baby
Leopold ! A suckling, and saluted
with a smack of thunder.
Poor little heart! No doubt Granny
Britannia means the noise as an evi-
dence of her love • but, we needs must
think it a proof of her foolishness.
Hear little rose-buds ! Why not go
to be kissed at Windsor in all their
innocent freshness ? Why should they
be forwarded to their parents, new too
from Scotland, smelling of gunpowder
in which is so much brimstone ?
OUR TRAVELLING CONTRIBUTOR,
AFTER A SEVERE ATTACK OF
IJVJV-FLUENZA.
HOW BRITANNIA SALUTES HER BABIES !
Britannia—like a most careful mother—expends a world of powder on her babies. A week ago she
flourished the powder-puff regardless of expense; and regardless of noise. Her three youngest royal
babies—the Princess Louisa, aged five years; the Prince Arthur, aged three; and the dear little
poppet Prince Leopold, aged not one - were all of them brought down from the nursery at Osborne,
and—with their nurses—embarked on board the Fairy to cross to Portsmouth, on their way to Windsor
Castle, to be smothered with kisses by one of the best of mammas, and one of the tenderest of fathers.
Well, the precious babies passing through Spithead “ were saluted by the Blenheim, by the garrison,
and by the Victory, flag-ship; ” and this was ordered by Grannam Britannia, who, we think, by
such smoke and pother rather exposes her dotage than shows her affection. Why should the
“ adamantine lips ” of sixty-eight pounders salute those little babies ? Louisa, being five years old,
may be a little seasoned to the custom; and Arthur—(as godson to the Duke)—may have a
Retaliation.
Photography, it was erroneously
stated, had enabled forgers to commit
frauds upon the Bank of England. Had
it been true, the retribution would
have been just. The Bank issues light
sovereigns—why not repay it with
Light five-pound notes ?
How to Mull Porte.—Ask Lord
Aberdeen.