DOI issue:
Volume XXVI
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16613#0263
253
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
the advice of an old friend, who knows men and the world as well as
many a man who wears a star upon his breast, and writes Privy
Councillor before his name. 1 never could get the Emperor of
Hussia to believe in the possibility of an alliance between us and
the French. “ Look at these newspapers,” lie used to say to me,
rapping with his knuckles on the table, a daily London journal of
great circulation, the T-? and a weekly comic periodical called
j>_* under the satire of which he writhes The head of the French |
nation "never can pardon these attacks upon him. He must declare
war against England. England must enter into an alliance with me;
ami as the price of that alliance, I intend to have Turkey in Europe,:
and my second capital at Constantinople. Voila tout, moil cher, voila
tout.”
Parbleu ! C’est tout simple,’ said a great dignitary whom I need
not name for fear of getting him into trouble, shrugging his shoulders,
and pulling out his eternal snuff-box.
“ I took a pinch myself, and tried to show them what the real state of
oar press and our country was. I told the Emperor Nicholas that
I had long and intimately known his Majesty the Emperor of tiie
French, "as indeed 1 had in Switzerland, where I put his first musket
into his hands; in the United States have 1 saved his life ; at Ham,
where I saw him ar.d the poor dear Duchesse he Berri before him,
and in King Street, St. James’s, and about town, where I promise you
we have had some rare doings together. I told the Emperor of
Russia that Jiis Majesty the Emperor of the French knew England
well, and narrated to him in confidence, but in extenso, a conversation
which 1 had had with Prince Louis Napoleon, when we were special
constables together in Eaton Place, on the 10th of April, ’48. As for
our papers abusing him, I told the Russian Autocrat that was nothing;
that was our way ; that every man of mark was abused; that I myself
had been satirised both in P—— and in ihe T-•.
“ What I said seemed to strike the Emperor a good deal. Would that
my advice had had more effect on him, but—
“ I am interrupted by Omar Pacha’s Tatar, who has his foot in the
stirrup ready to take my despatches, and also by Selim’s announce-
ment that the roast iamb is cooked. I shall continue my narrative,
(which I need not say is of thrilling inieiest,) and forward it presently
along with a pair of ear-rings for Mrs. Punch, which my poor friend
Timkowski wore, by one of my own men.
“ So no more at present from your
“ Basiii-Bozouk.”
SCENE FROM
“ THE RUSSIAN GENTLEMAN.”
Hu ©nfimsTjcti Qramn.
Scene.—St. Petersburg. A Corridor in the Palace.
Pater Archbishop and Gentleman of the Chamber, meeting.
Then he went on to cry, “ What’s that to you ?
I will not plead, I say ! What ? Guilty ! What P
Guilty of Murder ! Come, now, that’s too good.
Murder ! of whom ? Millions of fellow-men ?
My fellow-men ! I like that better still!
Pshaw! cease this dismal folly ! ”
Archb. ^ _ Wondrous trance!
Wherein the fiends, all saints who persecute,
Do lay vain siege unto our monarch’s soul.
Gent. Anon he cried again, “ Come let me go !
Make way, I tell ye, villains ! Ha ! Hands off!
Nay, now I’m sure you don’t—you can’t mean that!
• Where am I ? This is nonsense ! ”
Archb. _ Verily,
The caitiffs who, albeit in a dream.
Did impious violence to the sacred person
Of Nicholas, deserve to die the death!
Gent. After a pause again the Emperor spoke
In smothered accents. “ Doomed P ” he said, “ Doom me ?
Me to the scaffold ! to a felon’s end !
What end ? Aha ! I see that puzzles you !
The Wheel! nay, all the limbs I have are four,
And many myriads have I crushed and broke.”
And then the Emperor grinned.
Archb. Smiled, rather say.
_ Gent. But what a smile ! Then he resu ned, “ The Knout s
Yes—that’s more like. They say the Knout will do.
A. blow for every victim that hath been
Through my ambition slain ! No, no, no, no !
That will not serve them either—every stripe
After the first few hundred would descend
Upon my senseless corpse—They can’t contrive
Fit punishment for me ; and so, they say,
I must be left to Heaven. Victory !
Te Beam !—ah ! that’s Latin—from the Psalms—
And this is Latin too, although not holy ”—■
(As thus he spoke, the imperial visage fell)
“ Justo judicio Bei ”—for the rest
Hark in your Grace’s ear. [Whispers,
Archb. Oh horrible ! [.A cry without.
What’s that ? Methought it was the Emperor’s voice !
Gent. It is ! for look, my lord—he comes this way—
Burst from his chamber—in his night-gown—foam
On his blue lips—his bristling hair on end —
His eyes wide glaring: doctor at his heels,
And lerrified attendants after him !
Archb. Let us avoid. * [ They stand bach.
Pater ihe Emperor Nicholas, frantic.
Pmp. Give me my razors !—bring them hack, I say !
IV here is the slave that sent them to be ground ?
My razors, villains ! razors, razors—ho !
One half of all the Russias for my razors ! \Pxit
Archb. Good morrow. Sir. For Avhat new victory
Is it our Lord the Emperor’s gracious will
That Holy Church should praises sing to-day ?
Gent. Most Reverend Archi-archi-archi-vey,
That rests between great Nicholas and Heaven.
The fiat hath not yet gone forth.
Archb. Indeed.
Is He (makes a bow) yet stirring ?
Gent. Stirring He [bows also) may be.
I cannot say His Majesty is up.
Archb. Thou speakest riddles.
Gent. Pardon me, your Grace;
Our mighty Emperor still doth keep his bed.
But on his pillow’s pleased to turn and toss,
And in his slumber talk from time to time.
Arclib. After what manner ?
Gent. Strange and awful words
Drop from his holy mouth.
( Archb. You should collect
That manna ; words of sacred mystery
Are those which Emperors mutter in their dreams.
Dost thou remember any of them ?
Gent. _ Some.
He said just now, “ What ?—Bring me to the bai !
Me, Nicholas, to judgment! Ha, ha, ha! ”
But laugh I dare not like his Majesty.
* His Majesty, b?tween ourselves, is not so thin in the legs and so large in the
waist, as the designers represent Him. He is stou er, certainly, than when he came
o'-er incog, to England in the year 1S37, and I gave Colonel Roff a dinner at the
Megatherium Club ; but he is still a fine man, Will! What ot that? are there not
other fine men ? A blushing echo replies in the affirmative. Verax is a fine man,
and I think some of the other sex will not gainsay me.
ACT-DROP FALLS.
Worthy a place in the Cabinets of the Curious.
People complain of Sir George Grey’s appointment to the
Secretaryship of the Colonies, pointing to Sir W. Moleswortit, and
asking what claim Sir George has to the place. They forget Sir
George Grey is a Wiiig. Specimens of this interesting palaeonto-
logical genus are so rare now-a-days that we cannot wonder at Lord
John’s anxiety to have one in his cabinet.
Tiie Soldier’s Teazer.—The British soldier does rot mind any
intrenebment, but what beats him altogether is the Stockade
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
the advice of an old friend, who knows men and the world as well as
many a man who wears a star upon his breast, and writes Privy
Councillor before his name. 1 never could get the Emperor of
Hussia to believe in the possibility of an alliance between us and
the French. “ Look at these newspapers,” lie used to say to me,
rapping with his knuckles on the table, a daily London journal of
great circulation, the T-? and a weekly comic periodical called
j>_* under the satire of which he writhes The head of the French |
nation "never can pardon these attacks upon him. He must declare
war against England. England must enter into an alliance with me;
ami as the price of that alliance, I intend to have Turkey in Europe,:
and my second capital at Constantinople. Voila tout, moil cher, voila
tout.”
Parbleu ! C’est tout simple,’ said a great dignitary whom I need
not name for fear of getting him into trouble, shrugging his shoulders,
and pulling out his eternal snuff-box.
“ I took a pinch myself, and tried to show them what the real state of
oar press and our country was. I told the Emperor Nicholas that
I had long and intimately known his Majesty the Emperor of tiie
French, "as indeed 1 had in Switzerland, where I put his first musket
into his hands; in the United States have 1 saved his life ; at Ham,
where I saw him ar.d the poor dear Duchesse he Berri before him,
and in King Street, St. James’s, and about town, where I promise you
we have had some rare doings together. I told the Emperor of
Russia that Jiis Majesty the Emperor of the French knew England
well, and narrated to him in confidence, but in extenso, a conversation
which 1 had had with Prince Louis Napoleon, when we were special
constables together in Eaton Place, on the 10th of April, ’48. As for
our papers abusing him, I told the Russian Autocrat that was nothing;
that was our way ; that every man of mark was abused; that I myself
had been satirised both in P—— and in ihe T-•.
“ What I said seemed to strike the Emperor a good deal. Would that
my advice had had more effect on him, but—
“ I am interrupted by Omar Pacha’s Tatar, who has his foot in the
stirrup ready to take my despatches, and also by Selim’s announce-
ment that the roast iamb is cooked. I shall continue my narrative,
(which I need not say is of thrilling inieiest,) and forward it presently
along with a pair of ear-rings for Mrs. Punch, which my poor friend
Timkowski wore, by one of my own men.
“ So no more at present from your
“ Basiii-Bozouk.”
SCENE FROM
“ THE RUSSIAN GENTLEMAN.”
Hu ©nfimsTjcti Qramn.
Scene.—St. Petersburg. A Corridor in the Palace.
Pater Archbishop and Gentleman of the Chamber, meeting.
Then he went on to cry, “ What’s that to you ?
I will not plead, I say ! What ? Guilty ! What P
Guilty of Murder ! Come, now, that’s too good.
Murder ! of whom ? Millions of fellow-men ?
My fellow-men ! I like that better still!
Pshaw! cease this dismal folly ! ”
Archb. ^ _ Wondrous trance!
Wherein the fiends, all saints who persecute,
Do lay vain siege unto our monarch’s soul.
Gent. Anon he cried again, “ Come let me go !
Make way, I tell ye, villains ! Ha ! Hands off!
Nay, now I’m sure you don’t—you can’t mean that!
• Where am I ? This is nonsense ! ”
Archb. _ Verily,
The caitiffs who, albeit in a dream.
Did impious violence to the sacred person
Of Nicholas, deserve to die the death!
Gent. After a pause again the Emperor spoke
In smothered accents. “ Doomed P ” he said, “ Doom me ?
Me to the scaffold ! to a felon’s end !
What end ? Aha ! I see that puzzles you !
The Wheel! nay, all the limbs I have are four,
And many myriads have I crushed and broke.”
And then the Emperor grinned.
Archb. Smiled, rather say.
_ Gent. But what a smile ! Then he resu ned, “ The Knout s
Yes—that’s more like. They say the Knout will do.
A. blow for every victim that hath been
Through my ambition slain ! No, no, no, no !
That will not serve them either—every stripe
After the first few hundred would descend
Upon my senseless corpse—They can’t contrive
Fit punishment for me ; and so, they say,
I must be left to Heaven. Victory !
Te Beam !—ah ! that’s Latin—from the Psalms—
And this is Latin too, although not holy ”—■
(As thus he spoke, the imperial visage fell)
“ Justo judicio Bei ”—for the rest
Hark in your Grace’s ear. [Whispers,
Archb. Oh horrible ! [.A cry without.
What’s that ? Methought it was the Emperor’s voice !
Gent. It is ! for look, my lord—he comes this way—
Burst from his chamber—in his night-gown—foam
On his blue lips—his bristling hair on end —
His eyes wide glaring: doctor at his heels,
And lerrified attendants after him !
Archb. Let us avoid. * [ They stand bach.
Pater ihe Emperor Nicholas, frantic.
Pmp. Give me my razors !—bring them hack, I say !
IV here is the slave that sent them to be ground ?
My razors, villains ! razors, razors—ho !
One half of all the Russias for my razors ! \Pxit
Archb. Good morrow. Sir. For Avhat new victory
Is it our Lord the Emperor’s gracious will
That Holy Church should praises sing to-day ?
Gent. Most Reverend Archi-archi-archi-vey,
That rests between great Nicholas and Heaven.
The fiat hath not yet gone forth.
Archb. Indeed.
Is He (makes a bow) yet stirring ?
Gent. Stirring He [bows also) may be.
I cannot say His Majesty is up.
Archb. Thou speakest riddles.
Gent. Pardon me, your Grace;
Our mighty Emperor still doth keep his bed.
But on his pillow’s pleased to turn and toss,
And in his slumber talk from time to time.
Arclib. After what manner ?
Gent. Strange and awful words
Drop from his holy mouth.
( Archb. You should collect
That manna ; words of sacred mystery
Are those which Emperors mutter in their dreams.
Dost thou remember any of them ?
Gent. _ Some.
He said just now, “ What ?—Bring me to the bai !
Me, Nicholas, to judgment! Ha, ha, ha! ”
But laugh I dare not like his Majesty.
* His Majesty, b?tween ourselves, is not so thin in the legs and so large in the
waist, as the designers represent Him. He is stou er, certainly, than when he came
o'-er incog, to England in the year 1S37, and I gave Colonel Roff a dinner at the
Megatherium Club ; but he is still a fine man, Will! What ot that? are there not
other fine men ? A blushing echo replies in the affirmative. Verax is a fine man,
and I think some of the other sex will not gainsay me.
ACT-DROP FALLS.
Worthy a place in the Cabinets of the Curious.
People complain of Sir George Grey’s appointment to the
Secretaryship of the Colonies, pointing to Sir W. Moleswortit, and
asking what claim Sir George has to the place. They forget Sir
George Grey is a Wiiig. Specimens of this interesting palaeonto-
logical genus are so rare now-a-days that we cannot wonder at Lord
John’s anxiety to have one in his cabinet.
Tiie Soldier’s Teazer.—The British soldier does rot mind any
intrenebment, but what beats him altogether is the Stockade