DOI Heft:
Punch's essence of parliament
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16615#0015
7
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
LIVE MINUTES WITH A REGULAR DUSTMAN.
A day or two before Christmas our morning muffin was seasoned by
the attic—or perhaps more properly speaking the garret—salt, wrapped
up in the following Bill, which was placed side by side with our unread
newspaper and our thoroughly red herring on our breakfast table.
To the Worthy Inhabitants of
BROMPTON.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,
We the Regular DUSTMEN of this Parish, in the employ of
Messrs. H. & S. BIRD, make humhle application to you for a CHRIST-
MAS BOX, which you are usually so kind as to give;—we bring our
Tokens, one, a Medal of Fredericus Borussorum Rex; on the reverse, a man
striking another with a club. The second, a Medal with inscription
*■ Fredericus Magn. D. G. Rex; ” on the reverse, Fama, Prudentia et Vertute.
No connexion with Scavengers.
Charles Stag-g, and Thomas Tunks.
CAUTION.—As there are persons who go about with intent to Defraud
us, and Impose on you, be so kind as not to give your Bounty to any Person,
but to those who can produce the aforesaid Token. Please not to return
this Bill.
Impressed with the caution conveyed through this Bill, we deter-
mined that the “regular dustman” should not be defrauded by our
heedlessly coming down with the dust in favour of some “irregular”
individual, tainted not only by irregularity, but by a “ connexion with
scavengers.” We therefore resolved to see the dustman claiming to
be “my regular mine own,” and we anticipated the pleasure of an
interview with one whom we supposed had in some way earned the
right to a medal with such a motto as “ Fama, Prudentia et Virtute ”
attached to it.
On the morning of boxing-day we accordingly descended to an inter-
view (we don’t mean to imply any degradation on our part, beyond
our simply going down stairs), and we at once asked the hero of a
hundred dustyards to produce his medal. Our demand was willingly
complied with by a veteran whose cheeks were like ashes, and whom
we proceeded to sift by a few searching questions. Puzzled how a
dustman could have become decore in England, though we have heard
of honours having been formerly showered on those whose name is
Legion in Prance, we enquired of the honest fellow what were the
services he had performed to entitle him to wear his medal. We anti-
I cipated the possibility of his having been present at the sacking of some
■ city, whose ashes he might perhaps have aided in removing, but the
oniy reply we could get from the modest veteran as to how be had won
his* medal was simply this, “ I bought this ’ere medal for eighteen-
pence of a Jew in Marrowbone Lane.”
We returned from this interview with a consciousness that a hero is
after all nothing but common dust.
CANT IN CRYSTAL.
The late memorialists, who so pathetically appealed against the
iniquities of Greek art as exhibited in the Crystal Palace, have not
permitted Christmas to pass without making another practical appeal
to the feelings of the Directors in favour of the nude condition of the
statues at this inclement season of the year. We have been favoured
(exclusively) with a copy of the letter of the intelligent and courteous
Grove, the Crystal Secretary, in final answer to the memorialists. It
runs as follows :—
“ The Crystal Palace Company, Crystal Palace, Sydenham.
“ Gentlemen, — Your letter, with the various articles accom-
panying it, has been considered by the Directors at their meeting on
Wednesday.
“ The Directors desire me to inform you that, although they have
the profoundest sense of the intelligence and humanity that have in-
duced you to send articles of attire for the various statues, at present
wholly nude, they cannot accept contributions that, especially at the
present season, would be far better applied elsewhere.
“ I am therefore directed to return the sheepskin coat forwarded for
the wear of the Arcadian Apollo ; with, at the same time, the petticoat
of Whitney flannel, and second-hand visite for the Vends de Medicis.
“ The small-clothes were found much too small for the infant
Hercules, even had the Directors seriously entertained the intention
of breeching him.
“ I have the honour to remain,
“ P. S.
Try the Crimea.”
“ Your obedient Servant,
“ G. Grove, Secretary.
A “BO-PEEP” WITH BUCKSTONE.
Thank you, John Baldwin Buckstone, Lessee of the Theatre
Royal, Haymarket. Very good; and thank you, heartily.
We have never seen a prettier thing; one that dallies more with
the innocence of childhood and youth than Little Bo-Peep, the sweet
little Arcadian blossom that now comes so mincingly forth to
render her curtsey at the lamps of Christmas. She is the Little Bo-
Peep, whose story has opened millions of baby eyes with curiosity and
wonder; a Bo-Peep that seems to have been fed on lilies and roses,
and refreshed with a morning bath of honey-dew. A Bo-Peep, that with
her choice prettiness takes us away, away, up into the heights of fairy-
land : heights that lie nearer heaven.
And very nicely, very deliberately is the story of Bo-Peep done for
this same real play-house ; real as the money-box of the money-taker;
and yet, tor the time, made a messuage or tenement of fairy-land
itself. Beautiful Bo-Peep has about her a charming crowd of shep-
herds and shepherdesses, bright and innocent as the flowers of Arcady ;
while her sheep have a fullness of form, and a length and delicacy of
fleece, that would cause them to carry away the prize (whatever it
might be) at any sheep-show in the realms of Apollo. Por Bo-Peep
herself with her sheep, go and see her, and you will own with Mr.
William Wordsworth that she is
“ A young lamb’s heart amid the full-grown flock.”
And, therefore, do we incontinently guard her with our sympathies
and wishes when we know that Scruncher, Gnasher, Crasher, Howler,
and others of like melodiously significant names are the men wolves,
the very sharp lupine attornies, with sharpest teeth, made ready for
the choicest mutton: whilst who can think, without shuddering, of
the dreadful uses to which the parchment of those singularly large
and snowy-fleeced sheep may be inexorably perverted!
Thus does our interest rise and rise for Bo-Peep. Our heart dances
with her; our tenderness follows her. She enters her cottage. She
is about to divest herself for bed. She dons an aggravating little
night-cap, shaped by Arcadian fairy, from so much moonlight, sea-
sonably adding thereto a night-jacket of the same pure material. But
little Bo-Peep is—
“-not too bright or good
For human nature’s daily food."
Not she: and, therefore, with a sweet simplicity that touches upon
the human sympathies of the beholders,—Bo-Peep, having once or twice
melodiously sneezed, conveys to ihe tip of her musical little nose an
unguent from the domestic taper. This done, Bo-Peep, with no more
ado, goes fearless in her innocence to bed; and ere the cricket can
chirp thrice, Bo-Peep is folded to sleep.
As though a rose could shut, and be a bud again."
It is then that Scruncher, the wolf-captain, enters with his wolf-
pack; it is then that, after a fierce struggle, Bo-Peep is in peril when—
Miss Mary Brown takes the place of Miss Lidia Thompson, and
the Pantomime begins.
But our notice terminates with Bo-Peep. The “ Grove of Golden
Laburnums” we take to be the painted dream of Little Bo-Peep ; and
it is a vision worthy of the little enchantress !
(Holiday reader, go and see her ; if marrifed and with children, take
your wife and the babies : if not married, and consequently childless,
send other men’s babies ; if you are alone in the world, and, therefore,
a “ blighted being,” write a letter to the churchwarden, and take a few
rows of the gallery for the Parish Children of St. Red Riding-Hood.)
Einally, complete in its beauty is the acted, painted history of Little
Bo-Peep. Hard labour, making holiday for a night, may be witched
with it; and leaning forward on fustian sleeves, the while the shepherds
and shepherdesses, bright and glancing as humming-birds, dance before j
him, say—“ And'I, too, am in Arcadia ! ”
Again, thank you, Mr. Buckstone. The neighbourhood of the
Haymarket ought in acknowledgment of your uhristmas doings to
present you with a testimonial plum-pudding.
Lord John Russell says that there is one bit of truth in the
Austrian treaty, and that is at the end, where the name of the repre- |
sentative of England is coupled with the words “Bone at Vienna.”
Burglarious Jocosity.—Q. What Bar is that which often opens,
but never shuts ?—A. A crow-bar.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
LIVE MINUTES WITH A REGULAR DUSTMAN.
A day or two before Christmas our morning muffin was seasoned by
the attic—or perhaps more properly speaking the garret—salt, wrapped
up in the following Bill, which was placed side by side with our unread
newspaper and our thoroughly red herring on our breakfast table.
To the Worthy Inhabitants of
BROMPTON.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,
We the Regular DUSTMEN of this Parish, in the employ of
Messrs. H. & S. BIRD, make humhle application to you for a CHRIST-
MAS BOX, which you are usually so kind as to give;—we bring our
Tokens, one, a Medal of Fredericus Borussorum Rex; on the reverse, a man
striking another with a club. The second, a Medal with inscription
*■ Fredericus Magn. D. G. Rex; ” on the reverse, Fama, Prudentia et Vertute.
No connexion with Scavengers.
Charles Stag-g, and Thomas Tunks.
CAUTION.—As there are persons who go about with intent to Defraud
us, and Impose on you, be so kind as not to give your Bounty to any Person,
but to those who can produce the aforesaid Token. Please not to return
this Bill.
Impressed with the caution conveyed through this Bill, we deter-
mined that the “regular dustman” should not be defrauded by our
heedlessly coming down with the dust in favour of some “irregular”
individual, tainted not only by irregularity, but by a “ connexion with
scavengers.” We therefore resolved to see the dustman claiming to
be “my regular mine own,” and we anticipated the pleasure of an
interview with one whom we supposed had in some way earned the
right to a medal with such a motto as “ Fama, Prudentia et Virtute ”
attached to it.
On the morning of boxing-day we accordingly descended to an inter-
view (we don’t mean to imply any degradation on our part, beyond
our simply going down stairs), and we at once asked the hero of a
hundred dustyards to produce his medal. Our demand was willingly
complied with by a veteran whose cheeks were like ashes, and whom
we proceeded to sift by a few searching questions. Puzzled how a
dustman could have become decore in England, though we have heard
of honours having been formerly showered on those whose name is
Legion in Prance, we enquired of the honest fellow what were the
services he had performed to entitle him to wear his medal. We anti-
I cipated the possibility of his having been present at the sacking of some
■ city, whose ashes he might perhaps have aided in removing, but the
oniy reply we could get from the modest veteran as to how be had won
his* medal was simply this, “ I bought this ’ere medal for eighteen-
pence of a Jew in Marrowbone Lane.”
We returned from this interview with a consciousness that a hero is
after all nothing but common dust.
CANT IN CRYSTAL.
The late memorialists, who so pathetically appealed against the
iniquities of Greek art as exhibited in the Crystal Palace, have not
permitted Christmas to pass without making another practical appeal
to the feelings of the Directors in favour of the nude condition of the
statues at this inclement season of the year. We have been favoured
(exclusively) with a copy of the letter of the intelligent and courteous
Grove, the Crystal Secretary, in final answer to the memorialists. It
runs as follows :—
“ The Crystal Palace Company, Crystal Palace, Sydenham.
“ Gentlemen, — Your letter, with the various articles accom-
panying it, has been considered by the Directors at their meeting on
Wednesday.
“ The Directors desire me to inform you that, although they have
the profoundest sense of the intelligence and humanity that have in-
duced you to send articles of attire for the various statues, at present
wholly nude, they cannot accept contributions that, especially at the
present season, would be far better applied elsewhere.
“ I am therefore directed to return the sheepskin coat forwarded for
the wear of the Arcadian Apollo ; with, at the same time, the petticoat
of Whitney flannel, and second-hand visite for the Vends de Medicis.
“ The small-clothes were found much too small for the infant
Hercules, even had the Directors seriously entertained the intention
of breeching him.
“ I have the honour to remain,
“ P. S.
Try the Crimea.”
“ Your obedient Servant,
“ G. Grove, Secretary.
A “BO-PEEP” WITH BUCKSTONE.
Thank you, John Baldwin Buckstone, Lessee of the Theatre
Royal, Haymarket. Very good; and thank you, heartily.
We have never seen a prettier thing; one that dallies more with
the innocence of childhood and youth than Little Bo-Peep, the sweet
little Arcadian blossom that now comes so mincingly forth to
render her curtsey at the lamps of Christmas. She is the Little Bo-
Peep, whose story has opened millions of baby eyes with curiosity and
wonder; a Bo-Peep that seems to have been fed on lilies and roses,
and refreshed with a morning bath of honey-dew. A Bo-Peep, that with
her choice prettiness takes us away, away, up into the heights of fairy-
land : heights that lie nearer heaven.
And very nicely, very deliberately is the story of Bo-Peep done for
this same real play-house ; real as the money-box of the money-taker;
and yet, tor the time, made a messuage or tenement of fairy-land
itself. Beautiful Bo-Peep has about her a charming crowd of shep-
herds and shepherdesses, bright and innocent as the flowers of Arcady ;
while her sheep have a fullness of form, and a length and delicacy of
fleece, that would cause them to carry away the prize (whatever it
might be) at any sheep-show in the realms of Apollo. Por Bo-Peep
herself with her sheep, go and see her, and you will own with Mr.
William Wordsworth that she is
“ A young lamb’s heart amid the full-grown flock.”
And, therefore, do we incontinently guard her with our sympathies
and wishes when we know that Scruncher, Gnasher, Crasher, Howler,
and others of like melodiously significant names are the men wolves,
the very sharp lupine attornies, with sharpest teeth, made ready for
the choicest mutton: whilst who can think, without shuddering, of
the dreadful uses to which the parchment of those singularly large
and snowy-fleeced sheep may be inexorably perverted!
Thus does our interest rise and rise for Bo-Peep. Our heart dances
with her; our tenderness follows her. She enters her cottage. She
is about to divest herself for bed. She dons an aggravating little
night-cap, shaped by Arcadian fairy, from so much moonlight, sea-
sonably adding thereto a night-jacket of the same pure material. But
little Bo-Peep is—
“-not too bright or good
For human nature’s daily food."
Not she: and, therefore, with a sweet simplicity that touches upon
the human sympathies of the beholders,—Bo-Peep, having once or twice
melodiously sneezed, conveys to ihe tip of her musical little nose an
unguent from the domestic taper. This done, Bo-Peep, with no more
ado, goes fearless in her innocence to bed; and ere the cricket can
chirp thrice, Bo-Peep is folded to sleep.
As though a rose could shut, and be a bud again."
It is then that Scruncher, the wolf-captain, enters with his wolf-
pack; it is then that, after a fierce struggle, Bo-Peep is in peril when—
Miss Mary Brown takes the place of Miss Lidia Thompson, and
the Pantomime begins.
But our notice terminates with Bo-Peep. The “ Grove of Golden
Laburnums” we take to be the painted dream of Little Bo-Peep ; and
it is a vision worthy of the little enchantress !
(Holiday reader, go and see her ; if marrifed and with children, take
your wife and the babies : if not married, and consequently childless,
send other men’s babies ; if you are alone in the world, and, therefore,
a “ blighted being,” write a letter to the churchwarden, and take a few
rows of the gallery for the Parish Children of St. Red Riding-Hood.)
Einally, complete in its beauty is the acted, painted history of Little
Bo-Peep. Hard labour, making holiday for a night, may be witched
with it; and leaning forward on fustian sleeves, the while the shepherds
and shepherdesses, bright and glancing as humming-birds, dance before j
him, say—“ And'I, too, am in Arcadia ! ”
Again, thank you, Mr. Buckstone. The neighbourhood of the
Haymarket ought in acknowledgment of your uhristmas doings to
present you with a testimonial plum-pudding.
Lord John Russell says that there is one bit of truth in the
Austrian treaty, and that is at the end, where the name of the repre- |
sentative of England is coupled with the words “Bone at Vienna.”
Burglarious Jocosity.—Q. What Bar is that which often opens,
but never shuts ?—A. A crow-bar.