DOI issue:
Punch's essence of parliament
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16615#0021
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
13
PUDDING.HEADED PUFFERS.
UBL1C rumour has as-
serted on some autho-
rity which we have no
doubt is very bad, that
the Prince op Wales,
after reading an ac-
count of some gallant
exploit by one Ser-
jeant Davies in the
Crimea, resolved on
sending the hero a
Christmas plum-pud-
ding as the reward of
his valour. We merely
mention this absurd
story for the purpose
of calling upon every-
body to disbelieve it.
Prince Albert might
as well, send Sir de
Lacy Evans a slice
of plum cake, to eat
under the shade of his
laurels, or a box of
brandy-balls to suck
while seated on the
domestic hearth in the
evening of his exist-
ence. The Royal circle
ought to be protected
against this stupid
gossip which makes
a covert attack upon its good taste and common sense, while pretending to pay a compliment.
We are sure that the Prince of Wales is far too intelligent to think of treating Serjeant
Davies as a great baby or a great gluttoD, who after risking his life in battle is ready to run
a further risk by gormandising on that great national mixture of indigestible ingredients
familiarly known as a Christmas pudding. Our loyalty urges us to place on record our
utter disbelief in the absurd story, and we hope we have succeeded in shutting up those mouths
which have lately been so full of the Prince of Wales’s plum pudding.
CHRISTMAS POST PASTIMES.
Now Christmas, with its rich repast
Ha.s vanished, and of New Year’s Day
The feast is over, and at last
Is Twelfth Night’s banquet passed away.
Because of having lived too well.
The head and stomach pains attack :
Now for the pill of calomel,
And now, then, for the dose of black.
With bitter aloes crown the cup,
Or salts with peppermint combine,
Mix the grey powder, and make up
The draught of antimonial wine.
Now.gruel only, all day long,
With toast-and-water, we must touch.
Draw round the fire and sing a song
Of those who ate and drank too much.
The Experience of a Bill Discounter.
(Founded on Fact—“ three months after dateF)
There are three classes of people (says a Bil
Discounter of large practice), to whom I hate
lending money:
lstly. To your Women, because they have t
trick of crying, and I hate tears.
2ndly. To your Clergymen, because they art
poor, and quote Scripture.
3rdly. To your Lawyer, because they have
claws of their own, and can defend them elves.
a german philosopher.
He looks on the World as no better than a
round of folly, and smokes himself to death in
the stupid hope of “ making it all Square ! ”
OUR PET PRISONER.
“Dearest Arabella, “Steyne, Brighton, Jan. 2, 1S55.
“ We have had such a lovely New Year’s Day : never got to
our beds until five in the morning : but then we had such a triumph.
You know that we have been so fortunate as to secure the acquaintance
(esteem, friendship, I will venture to think it) of one of the dear
Russian prisoners, Captain Sitchaduckemoffsky. He has been
quite the rage these two months here; and if you only saw the dear
creature polk—if you only heard him play the flute—it’s enough to |
turn one’s heart into marmalade ! And then to listen to one of those j
dear, wild, romantic Tartar airs that he pours forth like any caged
nightingale—oh ! it is thrilling—I have wept at the strain delicious
i tears. And then the captive has such a lovely melancholy look ; then
; he speaks of holy Russia with such devotion that—well, when this
horrid war is over, I will see St. Petersburg.
“ But I haven’t told you of our triumph. The Browns had made
1 sure of the Captain; and the Simmonses felt equally certain of their
prey. The Newtons looked very significantly as we parted at church,—
! and that bold thing Jane was heard to say—‘they think they’ve got
i our Sitchaduckemoffsky to open the year with. Well, I only wish
| ’em many returns of the disappointment.’ Now what did we do. Mamma
! and myself,—but directly after breakfast on New Year’s Day, drove to
] the captive’s humble abode, and sat in the carriage until he could make
1 himself visible,—when we took him home; and among us so beguiled
| the time that he never left our roof until half-past four in the morning.
Charles, I am sorry to say, was scarcely civil to the Captain. But
then he has a coarse soul, with no sentiments of admiration for valour
in captivity. We were all charmed with his account of New Year in
Russia; so much more picturesque than our cold, humdrum way.
Indeed, should the Captain remain another twelvemonth with us, we
have made him promise to get up the New Year’s Day exactly as it is
performed in the very best circles of St. Petersburg.
“ How much have we been misled by the wicked inventions of those
wretched people who write books about Russia ! I saw the tear start to
the Captain’s manly eye as he beheld The Englishwoman in Russia
| (which I would have burnt) in the hand of Charles : who had not the
decency to close the hideous volume under the very brow of Sitch-
j aduckbmoffsky. “Yes; my beloved country”—(it is thus the
j Captain complained in confidence to some one you know)—“thus is
ihe holy bosom of Russia stabbed with poisoned pens ! ” And then.
to divert his indignation, I begged him to sing me that lovely air of
Take ferup opxqy,—or the song of the Siberian shepherd—it would melt
the heart of a wolf; the heart of anything except that Charles.
“And then how accomplished is the Captain! He has presented
me with a rosary of cherry-stones, with the most lovely portraits of all
the Russian saints cut upon them with nothing but a tooth-pick: his
sole solace when a captive in that filthy ship—though why should I sa.y
so, since it brought him here ? He has also given me the most lovely
fan made from a shoulder-bladebone (I think they call it), with like-
nesses of the Emperor, the Empress, and all the imperial family. They
a*e like life; and didn’t the fan make a sensation at Mrs. Cumberly’s
b&ll! More than one person (whom I won’t name) turned white and
red as I flirted it; which I did more than once I can tell you.
“Do, my dear Arabella, read all you can about the Greek Church.
It is much more beautiful than I could have thought. I am quite
interested in it; but as the Captain says, to see it in its beauty I
should see it in holy Russia, which—who knows F—I may yet do.
“ Yours affectionately,
“ Matilda.
“P.S.—1 open this to say we have been thrown into the greatest
consternation by a imnour that the Captain was to be exchanged—
exchanged ! What could they give sufficient for him ? But I have
traced the report to the malice of that Charles. Odious, isn’t it ? ”
THE BRIGHT MANIFESTO.
The following placard has been largely posted about the walls of
Manchester:—
Because Nicholas has mild eyes.
Because wheat can be purchased at Odessa at 2s. a bushel.
Because Bibles are imported into Russia duty free.
Because Nicholas subscribed to the Nelson Monument.
Because most of the nurses in Russia are English nurses.
Because my letter has been translated into Russian.
And lastly.
Because the Russians are large consumers of Manchester goods.
It is for the above, and other not less substantial reasons, that I am
conscientiously and disinterestedly opposed to the present War. J B
13
PUDDING.HEADED PUFFERS.
UBL1C rumour has as-
serted on some autho-
rity which we have no
doubt is very bad, that
the Prince op Wales,
after reading an ac-
count of some gallant
exploit by one Ser-
jeant Davies in the
Crimea, resolved on
sending the hero a
Christmas plum-pud-
ding as the reward of
his valour. We merely
mention this absurd
story for the purpose
of calling upon every-
body to disbelieve it.
Prince Albert might
as well, send Sir de
Lacy Evans a slice
of plum cake, to eat
under the shade of his
laurels, or a box of
brandy-balls to suck
while seated on the
domestic hearth in the
evening of his exist-
ence. The Royal circle
ought to be protected
against this stupid
gossip which makes
a covert attack upon its good taste and common sense, while pretending to pay a compliment.
We are sure that the Prince of Wales is far too intelligent to think of treating Serjeant
Davies as a great baby or a great gluttoD, who after risking his life in battle is ready to run
a further risk by gormandising on that great national mixture of indigestible ingredients
familiarly known as a Christmas pudding. Our loyalty urges us to place on record our
utter disbelief in the absurd story, and we hope we have succeeded in shutting up those mouths
which have lately been so full of the Prince of Wales’s plum pudding.
CHRISTMAS POST PASTIMES.
Now Christmas, with its rich repast
Ha.s vanished, and of New Year’s Day
The feast is over, and at last
Is Twelfth Night’s banquet passed away.
Because of having lived too well.
The head and stomach pains attack :
Now for the pill of calomel,
And now, then, for the dose of black.
With bitter aloes crown the cup,
Or salts with peppermint combine,
Mix the grey powder, and make up
The draught of antimonial wine.
Now.gruel only, all day long,
With toast-and-water, we must touch.
Draw round the fire and sing a song
Of those who ate and drank too much.
The Experience of a Bill Discounter.
(Founded on Fact—“ three months after dateF)
There are three classes of people (says a Bil
Discounter of large practice), to whom I hate
lending money:
lstly. To your Women, because they have t
trick of crying, and I hate tears.
2ndly. To your Clergymen, because they art
poor, and quote Scripture.
3rdly. To your Lawyer, because they have
claws of their own, and can defend them elves.
a german philosopher.
He looks on the World as no better than a
round of folly, and smokes himself to death in
the stupid hope of “ making it all Square ! ”
OUR PET PRISONER.
“Dearest Arabella, “Steyne, Brighton, Jan. 2, 1S55.
“ We have had such a lovely New Year’s Day : never got to
our beds until five in the morning : but then we had such a triumph.
You know that we have been so fortunate as to secure the acquaintance
(esteem, friendship, I will venture to think it) of one of the dear
Russian prisoners, Captain Sitchaduckemoffsky. He has been
quite the rage these two months here; and if you only saw the dear
creature polk—if you only heard him play the flute—it’s enough to |
turn one’s heart into marmalade ! And then to listen to one of those j
dear, wild, romantic Tartar airs that he pours forth like any caged
nightingale—oh ! it is thrilling—I have wept at the strain delicious
i tears. And then the captive has such a lovely melancholy look ; then
; he speaks of holy Russia with such devotion that—well, when this
horrid war is over, I will see St. Petersburg.
“ But I haven’t told you of our triumph. The Browns had made
1 sure of the Captain; and the Simmonses felt equally certain of their
prey. The Newtons looked very significantly as we parted at church,—
! and that bold thing Jane was heard to say—‘they think they’ve got
i our Sitchaduckemoffsky to open the year with. Well, I only wish
| ’em many returns of the disappointment.’ Now what did we do. Mamma
! and myself,—but directly after breakfast on New Year’s Day, drove to
] the captive’s humble abode, and sat in the carriage until he could make
1 himself visible,—when we took him home; and among us so beguiled
| the time that he never left our roof until half-past four in the morning.
Charles, I am sorry to say, was scarcely civil to the Captain. But
then he has a coarse soul, with no sentiments of admiration for valour
in captivity. We were all charmed with his account of New Year in
Russia; so much more picturesque than our cold, humdrum way.
Indeed, should the Captain remain another twelvemonth with us, we
have made him promise to get up the New Year’s Day exactly as it is
performed in the very best circles of St. Petersburg.
“ How much have we been misled by the wicked inventions of those
wretched people who write books about Russia ! I saw the tear start to
the Captain’s manly eye as he beheld The Englishwoman in Russia
| (which I would have burnt) in the hand of Charles : who had not the
decency to close the hideous volume under the very brow of Sitch-
j aduckbmoffsky. “Yes; my beloved country”—(it is thus the
j Captain complained in confidence to some one you know)—“thus is
ihe holy bosom of Russia stabbed with poisoned pens ! ” And then.
to divert his indignation, I begged him to sing me that lovely air of
Take ferup opxqy,—or the song of the Siberian shepherd—it would melt
the heart of a wolf; the heart of anything except that Charles.
“And then how accomplished is the Captain! He has presented
me with a rosary of cherry-stones, with the most lovely portraits of all
the Russian saints cut upon them with nothing but a tooth-pick: his
sole solace when a captive in that filthy ship—though why should I sa.y
so, since it brought him here ? He has also given me the most lovely
fan made from a shoulder-bladebone (I think they call it), with like-
nesses of the Emperor, the Empress, and all the imperial family. They
a*e like life; and didn’t the fan make a sensation at Mrs. Cumberly’s
b&ll! More than one person (whom I won’t name) turned white and
red as I flirted it; which I did more than once I can tell you.
“Do, my dear Arabella, read all you can about the Greek Church.
It is much more beautiful than I could have thought. I am quite
interested in it; but as the Captain says, to see it in its beauty I
should see it in holy Russia, which—who knows F—I may yet do.
“ Yours affectionately,
“ Matilda.
“P.S.—1 open this to say we have been thrown into the greatest
consternation by a imnour that the Captain was to be exchanged—
exchanged ! What could they give sufficient for him ? But I have
traced the report to the malice of that Charles. Odious, isn’t it ? ”
THE BRIGHT MANIFESTO.
The following placard has been largely posted about the walls of
Manchester:—
Because Nicholas has mild eyes.
Because wheat can be purchased at Odessa at 2s. a bushel.
Because Bibles are imported into Russia duty free.
Because Nicholas subscribed to the Nelson Monument.
Because most of the nurses in Russia are English nurses.
Because my letter has been translated into Russian.
And lastly.
Because the Russians are large consumers of Manchester goods.
It is for the above, and other not less substantial reasons, that I am
conscientiously and disinterestedly opposed to the present War. J B