DOI issue:
July to December, 1854
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16614#0195
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
28?
DISTRESSING EFFECT OF ENGLAND'S ROUGH HOSPITALITY
UPON ONE OF THE ELEGANT GUIDES.
AN OLD FOGEY CLUB.
Among the rubbish, that regularly falls into our Lands
every week, is a lithographed prospectus of a proposed
" Putney Club," the object, of which is to bring together
" all old Putney men." Why it should be more desirable
to collect the veterans of Putney than the veterans of
Chelsea, Kensington, or any other suburb, we are at a loss
to conceive; and indeed, if the object is only to get together
a mass of senile imbecility we think Kensington is the place
best adapted to furnish the materials of such a combination
of age and incapacity.
If it is desirable to start an Old Fogey Club, why should
the Old Fogeyism which constitutes a qualification for
membership be claimed exclusively for the " Old Putney
Men," when there are old Greenwich men, old Chelsea men,
old Brompton men, old Kensington men, aye ! and old
women too, that would constitute such a phalanx, of
suburban seniority as might make the veteranship of Putney
hide its diminished head in the very first Welsh wig or cotton
nightcap that it could catch hold of. We perceive that
the rules are well adapted to the aged classes for whom
the club is designed, as all the members are expected to be
in bed by eleven. We fear, however, that it will not be
popular with the old ladies, as " spirituous liquors " are to
be " entirely excluded."
Homage to the Drama.
Another Dramatic Petition, infinitely more numerously
signed than that presented to Mb. G. Y, Brooke, will
shortly be presented to an eminent tragedian, wrho performs
within 500 miles of Oxford Street. It has already received
the signatures of all the Clubs, Libraries, Reading-rooms,
and Literary and Mechanics' Institutions in the Metropolis ;
and it is to be hoped that, representing, as it does, the
united intelligence of London, it will be crowned with the
desired effect. The object of the Petition is, we needhardly
say, to beg of the eminent tragedian who performs within
500 miles of Oxford Street, as he loves the Drama and
values his reputation, to have the kindness to leave for
Australia as soon as he pos&ibly can.
Tue Family Herald.—A. Monthly Nurse.
FROM WINDSOR TO ST. PETERSBURG.
Mr. Punch has been solicited by the respected housekeeper of
Windsor Castle to give insertion to the subjoined letter (dispatched i
via Prussia, and favoured by Prussia's king) to the Emperor Nicholas.
The letter, arriving at the last minute, Mr. Punch had no time to send !
even an electric message to the respectable gentlewoman who keeps, as
Edmund Burke says, " Windsor's proud keep," to have the document
duly authenticated. The letter, for aught Mr. Punch knows, may have
been furtively obtained from the writing-desk of its authoress ; a copy
of it may have been taken on the way to its destination, the more es-
pecially if the envelope were superinscribed "private and confidential."
V\ ith this, Mr. Punch, as a public editor, has nothing to do. Mr. Pufich \
can only state that, to the best of his eyesight, the letter—(at least his
copy)—is not lithographed. To print a purelv private letter may be
about as moral as to pick a private pocket; Mr. Punch feels th is : what
llhen? He puts down his feelings with a strong hand, and devotes
himself to the requirements of the public.
To the Emperor or all the Russias from the Housekeeper op
all Windsor Castle.
'" May it please your Majesty, if you please,
" I have long had a burden in mv bosom which is a brooch.
When your Imperial Majesty did us the honour of a visit here at
Windsor, there wasn't a heart you didn't leave with your picture behind
V°u- y>u me the nonour (and when you did it, if I didn't think I
Miould have died with astonishment; and should, I'm certain, but for
the mild eyes (not that saving your presence I'll ever believe in eves
again)—the mild eyes in the royal head that looked so gracious on me ■
aud the sweet smile, as innocent as any baby's weaned on milk and
honey, on your royal lips.
" May it please your Majesty, when you went away, that very
morning you gave me with your oion hand a brooch as you said as a
small reward tor my attention. I shall never forget vour lofty manner
and your gracious words. When you put the brooch in mv hand, I
tuought 1 should have fainted: but then the thoughts of proud Windsor
(as I've heard our Castle called) supported me, and it wasn't until I'd
reached the maids' room that, with the brooch in my hand, I dropt in
a chair like any stone !
" May it please your Majesty, I wasn't myself for a week ; nor, in-
deed, were any of us. Your Imperial affability turned the whole place
topsy-turvy, and when you took leave of us for Russia (where you said,
as I heard it said, you hoped some day to see a certain gracious person,
whom I won't name, any further than by pointing to the highest lady in
the land), when you took leave of us, not a soul knew whether they
stood upon their" head or their heels. It took me more than a week
to come to anything like myself ; you put us all—as I heard one of the
Equerries was beard to say—in such a heaven of presents; a perfect
paradise of ringa and snuff-boxes. Not but what, as I've said before,
mine was a brooch !
"May it please your Majesty,—I can never forget, saving your
presence, owe first meeting. 1 've been used to royal blood, being born
in the Castle, the British Standard—as I've heard my mother say-
waving over my cradle ! I've been used, I say, to royal blood from a
baby upwards, and have had to see things set to rights for crowned
heads of both sexes, with the rest of their royal families. But when I
was called up to your imperial Majesty, my teeth did chatter, and 1
felt in a twitter.
" There was the st ate-bed—and the pains I'd taken about it, bran-new
damask, with the Russian eagle in dead gold at the head and the tester
—the state-bed ; and there stood your Majesty. I see your Majesty at
this very minute. ' A soldier'—you said—and my heart fluttered like
a whole cage of little birds—' a soldier sleeps anywhere. There I shall
sleep,' and as you said this, you pointed with yotcr imperial finger to a
folding bedstead, in old iron, that had been taken out of a portmanteau,
| and covered with a mattrass in Russian leather. There vou slept,
| turning your back upon the bed of state and your own eagles in gold
I and damask.
" 'The Emperor of Russia'—said I to myself when I'd got into
I my own room—'the Emperor of Russia's a downright Christian if
| ever Emperor of Russia was !' And upon that bedstead, and on that
i Russian leather, your Majesty slept every night, and the state bed was
! never so much as rumpled. What a lowly heart—I was always thinking
28?
DISTRESSING EFFECT OF ENGLAND'S ROUGH HOSPITALITY
UPON ONE OF THE ELEGANT GUIDES.
AN OLD FOGEY CLUB.
Among the rubbish, that regularly falls into our Lands
every week, is a lithographed prospectus of a proposed
" Putney Club," the object, of which is to bring together
" all old Putney men." Why it should be more desirable
to collect the veterans of Putney than the veterans of
Chelsea, Kensington, or any other suburb, we are at a loss
to conceive; and indeed, if the object is only to get together
a mass of senile imbecility we think Kensington is the place
best adapted to furnish the materials of such a combination
of age and incapacity.
If it is desirable to start an Old Fogey Club, why should
the Old Fogeyism which constitutes a qualification for
membership be claimed exclusively for the " Old Putney
Men," when there are old Greenwich men, old Chelsea men,
old Brompton men, old Kensington men, aye ! and old
women too, that would constitute such a phalanx, of
suburban seniority as might make the veteranship of Putney
hide its diminished head in the very first Welsh wig or cotton
nightcap that it could catch hold of. We perceive that
the rules are well adapted to the aged classes for whom
the club is designed, as all the members are expected to be
in bed by eleven. We fear, however, that it will not be
popular with the old ladies, as " spirituous liquors " are to
be " entirely excluded."
Homage to the Drama.
Another Dramatic Petition, infinitely more numerously
signed than that presented to Mb. G. Y, Brooke, will
shortly be presented to an eminent tragedian, wrho performs
within 500 miles of Oxford Street. It has already received
the signatures of all the Clubs, Libraries, Reading-rooms,
and Literary and Mechanics' Institutions in the Metropolis ;
and it is to be hoped that, representing, as it does, the
united intelligence of London, it will be crowned with the
desired effect. The object of the Petition is, we needhardly
say, to beg of the eminent tragedian who performs within
500 miles of Oxford Street, as he loves the Drama and
values his reputation, to have the kindness to leave for
Australia as soon as he pos&ibly can.
Tue Family Herald.—A. Monthly Nurse.
FROM WINDSOR TO ST. PETERSBURG.
Mr. Punch has been solicited by the respected housekeeper of
Windsor Castle to give insertion to the subjoined letter (dispatched i
via Prussia, and favoured by Prussia's king) to the Emperor Nicholas.
The letter, arriving at the last minute, Mr. Punch had no time to send !
even an electric message to the respectable gentlewoman who keeps, as
Edmund Burke says, " Windsor's proud keep," to have the document
duly authenticated. The letter, for aught Mr. Punch knows, may have
been furtively obtained from the writing-desk of its authoress ; a copy
of it may have been taken on the way to its destination, the more es-
pecially if the envelope were superinscribed "private and confidential."
V\ ith this, Mr. Punch, as a public editor, has nothing to do. Mr. Pufich \
can only state that, to the best of his eyesight, the letter—(at least his
copy)—is not lithographed. To print a purelv private letter may be
about as moral as to pick a private pocket; Mr. Punch feels th is : what
llhen? He puts down his feelings with a strong hand, and devotes
himself to the requirements of the public.
To the Emperor or all the Russias from the Housekeeper op
all Windsor Castle.
'" May it please your Majesty, if you please,
" I have long had a burden in mv bosom which is a brooch.
When your Imperial Majesty did us the honour of a visit here at
Windsor, there wasn't a heart you didn't leave with your picture behind
V°u- y>u me the nonour (and when you did it, if I didn't think I
Miould have died with astonishment; and should, I'm certain, but for
the mild eyes (not that saving your presence I'll ever believe in eves
again)—the mild eyes in the royal head that looked so gracious on me ■
aud the sweet smile, as innocent as any baby's weaned on milk and
honey, on your royal lips.
" May it please your Majesty, when you went away, that very
morning you gave me with your oion hand a brooch as you said as a
small reward tor my attention. I shall never forget vour lofty manner
and your gracious words. When you put the brooch in mv hand, I
tuought 1 should have fainted: but then the thoughts of proud Windsor
(as I've heard our Castle called) supported me, and it wasn't until I'd
reached the maids' room that, with the brooch in my hand, I dropt in
a chair like any stone !
" May it please your Majesty, I wasn't myself for a week ; nor, in-
deed, were any of us. Your Imperial affability turned the whole place
topsy-turvy, and when you took leave of us for Russia (where you said,
as I heard it said, you hoped some day to see a certain gracious person,
whom I won't name, any further than by pointing to the highest lady in
the land), when you took leave of us, not a soul knew whether they
stood upon their" head or their heels. It took me more than a week
to come to anything like myself ; you put us all—as I heard one of the
Equerries was beard to say—in such a heaven of presents; a perfect
paradise of ringa and snuff-boxes. Not but what, as I've said before,
mine was a brooch !
"May it please your Majesty,—I can never forget, saving your
presence, owe first meeting. 1 've been used to royal blood, being born
in the Castle, the British Standard—as I've heard my mother say-
waving over my cradle ! I've been used, I say, to royal blood from a
baby upwards, and have had to see things set to rights for crowned
heads of both sexes, with the rest of their royal families. But when I
was called up to your imperial Majesty, my teeth did chatter, and 1
felt in a twitter.
" There was the st ate-bed—and the pains I'd taken about it, bran-new
damask, with the Russian eagle in dead gold at the head and the tester
—the state-bed ; and there stood your Majesty. I see your Majesty at
this very minute. ' A soldier'—you said—and my heart fluttered like
a whole cage of little birds—' a soldier sleeps anywhere. There I shall
sleep,' and as you said this, you pointed with yotcr imperial finger to a
folding bedstead, in old iron, that had been taken out of a portmanteau,
| and covered with a mattrass in Russian leather. There vou slept,
| turning your back upon the bed of state and your own eagles in gold
I and damask.
" 'The Emperor of Russia'—said I to myself when I'd got into
I my own room—'the Emperor of Russia's a downright Christian if
| ever Emperor of Russia was !' And upon that bedstead, and on that
i Russian leather, your Majesty slept every night, and the state bed was
! never so much as rumpled. What a lowly heart—I was always thinking