DOI issue:
Punch's essence of parliament
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16615#0077
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
69
due to Webster’s Richard Pride, in his skins. Never have we seen a
more picturesque stage portrait. Like Robinson Crusoe, it goes far
to make youth in love with wildness and the wild freedom of solitude.
The bush bit is an admirable portion of the play; coming, in its scenic
beauty, in capital contrast and relief between the wrorking-day prose
life of Paris and stony-hearted London.
Por in London we next behold Richard Pride, accredited—we will
not say how—as Serjeant Gray, with an apocryphal daughter, whom he
calls his own, and a real, blood daughter, whom he knows not, and
whom, by his rascality and intemperance—for the serpent brandy, with
its fascinating beams and subtle tongue completes the half-resolved
purpose—he brings an innocent victim, a poor penned lamb for the
sacrifice, to the Old Bailey bar. What awaits him, the doomed father,
there, we shall not reveal. (Por further particulars apply to Benjamin
Webster, Esq., any evening at the Adel phi Theatre, between the
hours of seven and half-past ten; though good manners will, in
preference, suggest seven exactly.)
We have never seen Webster in a finer, more artistic light, than as
Richard Pride. Muddled with drink, agonised by remorse, scorched
by the fires of brandy, he is in every phase a consummate actor. He
has the true art of so blending his feelings that like prismatic colours
they harmoniously melt into one another. A dauber, like Charles
Kean, if he have various emotions to pourtray, gives them to you in
hard, square, positive bits, like the patches of a Harlequin's suit.
Carlo non Dolce paints a sign-post Louis XI, “with entertainment
for man and beast.” Webster’s Richard has, in certain aspects, all
the delicacy of the most finished miniature,-with the dash of the
“ savage Rosa.” Keeley’s Picky Trotter is a thing to be painted by
Webster, R.A., the Raphael and Michael Angelo of boys and
bumpkins. The watchmaker’s apprentice who cannot, and never will,
learn to make a watch, has nevertheless a heart that goes upon the biggest
and brightest diamond, and very delightfully does he—to the laughter
and tears of all who hear and behold him—show its movements.
Keeley unconsciously reveals to you human nature, as he would
show you the works of a chronometer ; aud pleased and charmed you
are with the harmony and truthfulness of the seeming mystery. Mr.
Selby has a long vista before him of old men’s wigs. When, forty
years hence,> he may probably.think it seemly to acknowledge the
Departure of Youth—so beautifully described by Richard Monckton
Milnes—Selby .may then surrender up his remains to the portraiture
of old men, to his owm profit and the advantage of play-goers. His
Bernard the old Swiss watchmaker, was charmingly simple and
affecting; at times, too, gamesome, and withal, national as a french
poodle. We have already spoken of Janet Pride, the mother; Janet
Pride, the daughter, is worthy of the moral beauty of her parent. The
passion was profound, and therefore quiet.
“For it is with feelings, as with waters,
The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb.”
Gentle reader, we are sure that we shall be repaid by your thanks, if
we induce you to take jour early way to the Adelphi to see Janet
Pride.
OUR BRAVE FELLOWS AT HOME.
here is no doubt but, as a
nation, we may congratu-
late ourselves on possessing
a large share of at least
that important military qua-
lity, personal courage. A
gratifying testimonial to our
merit in this respect was
recorded the other day by
the Times in an account of
the weather and the parks.
The ice in St. James’s Park,
owing to the thaw, having
become extremely unsafe;
“ Shortly before noon yesterday
800 or 1,000 persons, in spite of all
the warnings given by the Hu-
mane Society’ti Icemen, insisted
on venturing upon the Ornamental
Waters in the enclosute. Every
attempt was made by the ice men,
' under Me. Parsons, who has
charge of this park, to compel
them to get off, hut without avail, until at length the park became ohscured by one
of the most dense fogs that has visited London for some time, especially at this period
of the year.”
Then came on a heavy showTer, which, ultimately “cleared the park of
those who were thus risking their lives.” Had the shower consisted
of Minie balls, our heroes would have kept their ground ; they would
have stood, or fallen, under any fire : they retired only in consequence
of being under water; a position calculated to damp the most
ardent valour. The same daring spirit was evinced in the other parks.
For example:
“ On the Serpentine, Hyde Park, the ice was only four inches thick, and verv
dangerous. About 1,000 ventured upon the ice, fend could only he compelled to get off,
by the dense fog that set in, making it difficult for them to see the points marked
dangerous, or for the Society’s men to see them if they broke through the ice into the
water.”
There was no Sebastopol to reward, with glory or with p1 under, the
hardihood with which these gallant fellows courted death. No medal
was there; no clasp, star, ribbon, whereof the chance might balance
that of being drowned; no order, except, perhaps, the Humane Society’s
Order of the Bath. To cite another instance of this wonderful
intrepidity:—
“ The Regent's Park had a great number of skaters and sliders upon the ice on the
Ornamental Water, which was in an extremely dangerous condition, and which was
only cleared by the fog and the storm of rain which followed.”
It was on a Sunday that these characleristic displays of British
courage occurred. Whether they were in any measure prompted by
the hope of a glass of grog at the Receiving House in the event of
immersion, may be questioned. Thanks to wise and considerate
legislation, the taverns were all closed, and not a thimbleful of brandy
was to be had by the public at large, notwithstanding the raw mist,
and the chill which the weather might have struck to many a marrow.
Is it possible that some of the adventurous skaters entertained a
desperate idea of drinking Mr. Wilson Batten’s health at the
Humane Society’s expense ?
That the day in question was Sundajq is notable on another account.
That festival is the only weekly holiday of the commercial and indus-
trious classes. A large proportion of the courageous multitudes upon
the ice consisted of the young shopmen of the metropolis, maintaining
the traditional credit of the London ’prentices. They offered themselves
as martyrs to an early closing movement, in cutting out figures of 8 on
unsafe ice : for that movement might have brought their existences to
an early close.
“Death or Victory” is regarded as a sufficiently heroic^motto.
It is transcended by. that of our bo'.d skaters; which, is “Neck.or
Nothing.” This implies no consideration for the riskof lNeck; which
perhaps a philosopher might be disposed to term inconsiderate valour,
or valour arising from want of consideration.
ELIZABETH BROWN.
A Riddle for Horse Guards.
Did never yon hear of Elizabeth Brown ?
To her old back she hasn’t a rag of a gown,
And she goes without petticoats, stays, or a smock,
Yet Elizabeth’s figure would lew people shock.
Elizabeth Brown, when she first saw the light,
Had not become Brown—she at that time was Bright-
But Manchester’s Member, who sports the broad brim,
Disowns her as any relation to him.
Elizabeth Brown is a soldier’s old wife,
An encumbrance to him and the plague of his life.
She’s awkward aud clumsy, and all.gone to rust,
A useless old crone, whom the soldier can’t trust.
Elizabeth Brown is in such a bad state.
She seldom, if ever, contrives to go straight,
So the soldier desires to be rid of her charms.
Dismissing Elizabeth Brown from his arms.
Elizabeth Brown may the law that’s in force
For the army, outright from the so'dier divorce ;
And leave the poor fellow at freedom to wed,
His faithful and true little Minie instead !
En Nihilo nihil fit-or unfit.
So few cases are now brought before the Judges at Westminster
Hall, that inaction has taken the place of action, and for want of some-
thing to move, there is nothing to set the Court in motion. I he other
day one of the learned Judges announced that as the remanets were ex-
hausted, he should on the next day begin with the new paper We
presume his Lordship meant the News-paper, which seemed R be the
only matter that the Court had before it.
Contentment.— It is always best to put np with the first loss an,
for instance, when a person loses his hair.
69
due to Webster’s Richard Pride, in his skins. Never have we seen a
more picturesque stage portrait. Like Robinson Crusoe, it goes far
to make youth in love with wildness and the wild freedom of solitude.
The bush bit is an admirable portion of the play; coming, in its scenic
beauty, in capital contrast and relief between the wrorking-day prose
life of Paris and stony-hearted London.
Por in London we next behold Richard Pride, accredited—we will
not say how—as Serjeant Gray, with an apocryphal daughter, whom he
calls his own, and a real, blood daughter, whom he knows not, and
whom, by his rascality and intemperance—for the serpent brandy, with
its fascinating beams and subtle tongue completes the half-resolved
purpose—he brings an innocent victim, a poor penned lamb for the
sacrifice, to the Old Bailey bar. What awaits him, the doomed father,
there, we shall not reveal. (Por further particulars apply to Benjamin
Webster, Esq., any evening at the Adel phi Theatre, between the
hours of seven and half-past ten; though good manners will, in
preference, suggest seven exactly.)
We have never seen Webster in a finer, more artistic light, than as
Richard Pride. Muddled with drink, agonised by remorse, scorched
by the fires of brandy, he is in every phase a consummate actor. He
has the true art of so blending his feelings that like prismatic colours
they harmoniously melt into one another. A dauber, like Charles
Kean, if he have various emotions to pourtray, gives them to you in
hard, square, positive bits, like the patches of a Harlequin's suit.
Carlo non Dolce paints a sign-post Louis XI, “with entertainment
for man and beast.” Webster’s Richard has, in certain aspects, all
the delicacy of the most finished miniature,-with the dash of the
“ savage Rosa.” Keeley’s Picky Trotter is a thing to be painted by
Webster, R.A., the Raphael and Michael Angelo of boys and
bumpkins. The watchmaker’s apprentice who cannot, and never will,
learn to make a watch, has nevertheless a heart that goes upon the biggest
and brightest diamond, and very delightfully does he—to the laughter
and tears of all who hear and behold him—show its movements.
Keeley unconsciously reveals to you human nature, as he would
show you the works of a chronometer ; aud pleased and charmed you
are with the harmony and truthfulness of the seeming mystery. Mr.
Selby has a long vista before him of old men’s wigs. When, forty
years hence,> he may probably.think it seemly to acknowledge the
Departure of Youth—so beautifully described by Richard Monckton
Milnes—Selby .may then surrender up his remains to the portraiture
of old men, to his owm profit and the advantage of play-goers. His
Bernard the old Swiss watchmaker, was charmingly simple and
affecting; at times, too, gamesome, and withal, national as a french
poodle. We have already spoken of Janet Pride, the mother; Janet
Pride, the daughter, is worthy of the moral beauty of her parent. The
passion was profound, and therefore quiet.
“For it is with feelings, as with waters,
The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb.”
Gentle reader, we are sure that we shall be repaid by your thanks, if
we induce you to take jour early way to the Adelphi to see Janet
Pride.
OUR BRAVE FELLOWS AT HOME.
here is no doubt but, as a
nation, we may congratu-
late ourselves on possessing
a large share of at least
that important military qua-
lity, personal courage. A
gratifying testimonial to our
merit in this respect was
recorded the other day by
the Times in an account of
the weather and the parks.
The ice in St. James’s Park,
owing to the thaw, having
become extremely unsafe;
“ Shortly before noon yesterday
800 or 1,000 persons, in spite of all
the warnings given by the Hu-
mane Society’ti Icemen, insisted
on venturing upon the Ornamental
Waters in the enclosute. Every
attempt was made by the ice men,
' under Me. Parsons, who has
charge of this park, to compel
them to get off, hut without avail, until at length the park became ohscured by one
of the most dense fogs that has visited London for some time, especially at this period
of the year.”
Then came on a heavy showTer, which, ultimately “cleared the park of
those who were thus risking their lives.” Had the shower consisted
of Minie balls, our heroes would have kept their ground ; they would
have stood, or fallen, under any fire : they retired only in consequence
of being under water; a position calculated to damp the most
ardent valour. The same daring spirit was evinced in the other parks.
For example:
“ On the Serpentine, Hyde Park, the ice was only four inches thick, and verv
dangerous. About 1,000 ventured upon the ice, fend could only he compelled to get off,
by the dense fog that set in, making it difficult for them to see the points marked
dangerous, or for the Society’s men to see them if they broke through the ice into the
water.”
There was no Sebastopol to reward, with glory or with p1 under, the
hardihood with which these gallant fellows courted death. No medal
was there; no clasp, star, ribbon, whereof the chance might balance
that of being drowned; no order, except, perhaps, the Humane Society’s
Order of the Bath. To cite another instance of this wonderful
intrepidity:—
“ The Regent's Park had a great number of skaters and sliders upon the ice on the
Ornamental Water, which was in an extremely dangerous condition, and which was
only cleared by the fog and the storm of rain which followed.”
It was on a Sunday that these characleristic displays of British
courage occurred. Whether they were in any measure prompted by
the hope of a glass of grog at the Receiving House in the event of
immersion, may be questioned. Thanks to wise and considerate
legislation, the taverns were all closed, and not a thimbleful of brandy
was to be had by the public at large, notwithstanding the raw mist,
and the chill which the weather might have struck to many a marrow.
Is it possible that some of the adventurous skaters entertained a
desperate idea of drinking Mr. Wilson Batten’s health at the
Humane Society’s expense ?
That the day in question was Sundajq is notable on another account.
That festival is the only weekly holiday of the commercial and indus-
trious classes. A large proportion of the courageous multitudes upon
the ice consisted of the young shopmen of the metropolis, maintaining
the traditional credit of the London ’prentices. They offered themselves
as martyrs to an early closing movement, in cutting out figures of 8 on
unsafe ice : for that movement might have brought their existences to
an early close.
“Death or Victory” is regarded as a sufficiently heroic^motto.
It is transcended by. that of our bo'.d skaters; which, is “Neck.or
Nothing.” This implies no consideration for the riskof lNeck; which
perhaps a philosopher might be disposed to term inconsiderate valour,
or valour arising from want of consideration.
ELIZABETH BROWN.
A Riddle for Horse Guards.
Did never yon hear of Elizabeth Brown ?
To her old back she hasn’t a rag of a gown,
And she goes without petticoats, stays, or a smock,
Yet Elizabeth’s figure would lew people shock.
Elizabeth Brown, when she first saw the light,
Had not become Brown—she at that time was Bright-
But Manchester’s Member, who sports the broad brim,
Disowns her as any relation to him.
Elizabeth Brown is a soldier’s old wife,
An encumbrance to him and the plague of his life.
She’s awkward aud clumsy, and all.gone to rust,
A useless old crone, whom the soldier can’t trust.
Elizabeth Brown is in such a bad state.
She seldom, if ever, contrives to go straight,
So the soldier desires to be rid of her charms.
Dismissing Elizabeth Brown from his arms.
Elizabeth Brown may the law that’s in force
For the army, outright from the so'dier divorce ;
And leave the poor fellow at freedom to wed,
His faithful and true little Minie instead !
En Nihilo nihil fit-or unfit.
So few cases are now brought before the Judges at Westminster
Hall, that inaction has taken the place of action, and for want of some-
thing to move, there is nothing to set the Court in motion. I he other
day one of the learned Judges announced that as the remanets were ex-
hausted, he should on the next day begin with the new paper We
presume his Lordship meant the News-paper, which seemed R be the
only matter that the Court had before it.
Contentment.— It is always best to put np with the first loss an,
for instance, when a person loses his hair.