DOI Heft:
May 31, 1856
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16617#0225
May 31, 1856.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
217
Brown {to the Thimblerigger). Well, really, friend, I'in rather
averse
To take your money out of your purse;
But if you will insist in saying
You don't object to a wager laying—
Thimblerigger {interrupting). Here I be, with my innocent pea;
Where I put it you all can see.
Sometimes winning, sometimes losing,
Ne'er to pay my debts refusing.
Brown {throwing down two Sovereigns). Well, if he's obstinate, let
it he. [Pulls up a thimble.
Brown and Jones {together). Why, why! My eye! What's become
of the pea?
Hurried music, daring which a policeman appears in the distance,
and the Thimblerigger, having snatched up the two sovereigns, disap-
pears with a clergyman-like looking gentleman, who has been losing a
few rjounds while'Brown and Jones were looking on. The finale to
the Second Act would admit of some very elabora'e scoring, descriptive
of the betting, and might wind up with a frantic caorus of winners and
losers, preceded by some tremolo passages during the Uace itself. The
intense excitement of the situation might be relieved by a sentimental
ballad from a Pickpocket, who might, come down to the front of the
stage while the business of weighing, saddling, and completing the
arrangements for a start are being quietly effected in the distance.
Ballad.—Sentimental Pickpocket.
With heavy heart and fingers light
I wander midst the thoughtless throng;
And empty pockets, left, and right,
As mournfully 1 pass along.
But little do the gay ones know,
(The giddy slaves of wealth and rank).
How memory brings its weight of woe,
With recollections of t he crank.
The Third and concluding Act would be one of bustle, as far as
grouping of the general masses would be concerned, brought out into
powerful contrast by the exhaustion of the principal characters. The
return home might be made a scene of almost mad excitement, giving
occasion for wild choruses, bacchanalian rounds, and frantic ballets, in
the midst of which Brown might be leaning helplessly on the arm of
his friend Jones, who would be leaning equally helplessly on any and
every object that seemed to offer support. In the midst of the bois-
terous music the plaintive sounds of the voices of the two Tenors
might be heard occasionally mingling with the louder melodies of the
mass, and a delicious morceau, like the following, would give a lively
relief to this part of the Opera.
Brown {languidly and very stacatto). Where- can—our—cab—have—
got—to—where—be—found ?
Jones. Steady boy—steady.
Brown. Don't keep turning round.
Our's was a Hansom {to several Cab-drivers).
We don't want the bas.
For Hansom is—my boys—as Hansom does.
Brown {to Jones). Don't be a fool—my friends {to Cabmen). Oh tell
me pray !
Is there a Hansom cab, gone, by this way ?
Jones {to Cabmen). Don't mind him—he's been drinking. Let's
discuss
This point. As Hansom is as Hansom does ?
[The Cabmen all laugh, and point in different directions, and Brown
drags Jones away.
WHAT AN ENGLISHMAN LIKES.
N Englishman likes a variety of things.
For instance, nothing is more to his
liking than:
To talk largely about Art, and to
have the worst statues and monu-
ments that ever disgraced a metro-
polis !
To inveigh against the grinding ty-
rannies practised upon poor needle-
women and slop-tailors, and yet to
patronise the shops where cheap shirts
and clothes are sold!
To purchase a bargain, no matter
whether he is in want of it or not!
To reward native talent, with which,
view he supports Italian operas, French,
plays, German singers, and in fact
gives gold to the foreigners in ex-
change for the brass they bring him !
To talk sneeringly against tuft-hunting
and all tuft-hunters, and yet next to
running after a Lord, nothing delights
him more than to be seen in the com-
pany of one!
To rave about his public spirit and
independence, and with the greatest
submission, to endure perpetually a tax
that was only put on for three years !
To brag about his politeness aud courteous demeanour in public, and
to scamper after the Queen whenever there is an opportunity of
staring at her!
To boast of his cleanliness, and to leave uncovered (as in the Thames)
the biggest sewer in the world !
To pretend to like music, and to tolerate the Italian organs and the
discordant musicians that infest his streets !
To inveigh against bad legislation, and to refrain in many instances
from exercising the franchise he pays so dearly for!
To admit the utility of education, aod yet to exclude fiom its benefits
every one who is not of the same creed as himself!
To make a pretence of rewarding purity and honesty, and at the same
time to deal at the cheap shops that have a notorious character for
adulteration and a dangerous reputation for short weights and
measures !
To plunge into raptures about Siiakspeabe and the national Drama,
and to leave them any night to run after Dumas, Scribe, a dancing
dog, a jumping elephant, or a gentleman who walks like a fly with his
leg's on the ceiling !
To swagger about his tremendous love of comfoit, and to ride in the
most uncomfortable omnibuses, the dirtiest cabs, and the shabbiest
railways of any civilised state, in Europe,—besides encouraging a system
of hotels, where every species of discomfort is vended at the very
highest possible prices !
And lastly, an Englishman dearly likes :
To grumble, no matter whether he is right or wrong, crying or
. laughing, working or playing, gaining a victory or smarting unuer a
discuss^ . , „ I national humiliation, paying or being paid—still he must grumble, and
in fact he is never so happy as when he is grumbling; aud, supposing
everything was to his satisfaction (though it says a great deal for our
power of assumption to assume any such absurd impossibilities), still he
would grumble at the fact of there being nothing for him to grumble
about!
After this "situation" the choruses would be heard now following
each other, now blending together, and ultimately retiring into the
distance, where a beautiful scenic effect, c^uld be arranged by a vision
representing Jones's dream. He might be seen lying in the middle of
the race course, with Laura smiling over him, Brown reeling before
him, the Sentimental Pickpocket busy behind him, and to very soft
music, indicative of the supposed state of his head—
The Curtain falls.
The Cold Tea Movement.
There is getting up in Scotland a great tea-spoon stir in the cause
of public morality. An association is about to be formed, to be called
"The Universal Sabbath Cold Tea Brotherhood and Sisterhood the
benign object of which is to co;npel everybody to drink cold tea on the
seventh day, in oruer to abolish the public scandal manifested in the
singing of the tea-kettle on Sundays !
A CAN IIS E QUEIIY.
"Mr. Punch,—You know everything, you therefore know that, once
upon a time, a dog, a terrier I believe, dwelling in Edinburgh, was pro-
fanely whistled to by his master on Sunday. The dog took tne offence
so much to heart, that tucking his tail between his legs, he ran away
and has never been heard of since. Do you, knowing everything, know
what has become of that dog ? Has he, upon the principle preached
by Pythagoras, been reproduced upon two legs; and is that original
Scotch terrier to be found in any one of the Scotch members who, in
the matter of the Sunday music, have howled and barked, and some say,
bitten Palmebston?
" Yours, Mr. Punch, Bow-Wow."
A Childish Thought.—We learn toleration from children ; for no
The Greatest Novelty of the Season.—Easter has passed, man can have bis whiskers pulled by a young Brat, without feeling what
Whitsuntide is over,—and we have not had one Balloon Ascent this \ an intolerable nuisance he must have been as a child himself.—J Surly
season. I Old Bachelor.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
217
Brown {to the Thimblerigger). Well, really, friend, I'in rather
averse
To take your money out of your purse;
But if you will insist in saying
You don't object to a wager laying—
Thimblerigger {interrupting). Here I be, with my innocent pea;
Where I put it you all can see.
Sometimes winning, sometimes losing,
Ne'er to pay my debts refusing.
Brown {throwing down two Sovereigns). Well, if he's obstinate, let
it he. [Pulls up a thimble.
Brown and Jones {together). Why, why! My eye! What's become
of the pea?
Hurried music, daring which a policeman appears in the distance,
and the Thimblerigger, having snatched up the two sovereigns, disap-
pears with a clergyman-like looking gentleman, who has been losing a
few rjounds while'Brown and Jones were looking on. The finale to
the Second Act would admit of some very elabora'e scoring, descriptive
of the betting, and might wind up with a frantic caorus of winners and
losers, preceded by some tremolo passages during the Uace itself. The
intense excitement of the situation might be relieved by a sentimental
ballad from a Pickpocket, who might, come down to the front of the
stage while the business of weighing, saddling, and completing the
arrangements for a start are being quietly effected in the distance.
Ballad.—Sentimental Pickpocket.
With heavy heart and fingers light
I wander midst the thoughtless throng;
And empty pockets, left, and right,
As mournfully 1 pass along.
But little do the gay ones know,
(The giddy slaves of wealth and rank).
How memory brings its weight of woe,
With recollections of t he crank.
The Third and concluding Act would be one of bustle, as far as
grouping of the general masses would be concerned, brought out into
powerful contrast by the exhaustion of the principal characters. The
return home might be made a scene of almost mad excitement, giving
occasion for wild choruses, bacchanalian rounds, and frantic ballets, in
the midst of which Brown might be leaning helplessly on the arm of
his friend Jones, who would be leaning equally helplessly on any and
every object that seemed to offer support. In the midst of the bois-
terous music the plaintive sounds of the voices of the two Tenors
might be heard occasionally mingling with the louder melodies of the
mass, and a delicious morceau, like the following, would give a lively
relief to this part of the Opera.
Brown {languidly and very stacatto). Where- can—our—cab—have—
got—to—where—be—found ?
Jones. Steady boy—steady.
Brown. Don't keep turning round.
Our's was a Hansom {to several Cab-drivers).
We don't want the bas.
For Hansom is—my boys—as Hansom does.
Brown {to Jones). Don't be a fool—my friends {to Cabmen). Oh tell
me pray !
Is there a Hansom cab, gone, by this way ?
Jones {to Cabmen). Don't mind him—he's been drinking. Let's
discuss
This point. As Hansom is as Hansom does ?
[The Cabmen all laugh, and point in different directions, and Brown
drags Jones away.
WHAT AN ENGLISHMAN LIKES.
N Englishman likes a variety of things.
For instance, nothing is more to his
liking than:
To talk largely about Art, and to
have the worst statues and monu-
ments that ever disgraced a metro-
polis !
To inveigh against the grinding ty-
rannies practised upon poor needle-
women and slop-tailors, and yet to
patronise the shops where cheap shirts
and clothes are sold!
To purchase a bargain, no matter
whether he is in want of it or not!
To reward native talent, with which,
view he supports Italian operas, French,
plays, German singers, and in fact
gives gold to the foreigners in ex-
change for the brass they bring him !
To talk sneeringly against tuft-hunting
and all tuft-hunters, and yet next to
running after a Lord, nothing delights
him more than to be seen in the com-
pany of one!
To rave about his public spirit and
independence, and with the greatest
submission, to endure perpetually a tax
that was only put on for three years !
To brag about his politeness aud courteous demeanour in public, and
to scamper after the Queen whenever there is an opportunity of
staring at her!
To boast of his cleanliness, and to leave uncovered (as in the Thames)
the biggest sewer in the world !
To pretend to like music, and to tolerate the Italian organs and the
discordant musicians that infest his streets !
To inveigh against bad legislation, and to refrain in many instances
from exercising the franchise he pays so dearly for!
To admit the utility of education, aod yet to exclude fiom its benefits
every one who is not of the same creed as himself!
To make a pretence of rewarding purity and honesty, and at the same
time to deal at the cheap shops that have a notorious character for
adulteration and a dangerous reputation for short weights and
measures !
To plunge into raptures about Siiakspeabe and the national Drama,
and to leave them any night to run after Dumas, Scribe, a dancing
dog, a jumping elephant, or a gentleman who walks like a fly with his
leg's on the ceiling !
To swagger about his tremendous love of comfoit, and to ride in the
most uncomfortable omnibuses, the dirtiest cabs, and the shabbiest
railways of any civilised state, in Europe,—besides encouraging a system
of hotels, where every species of discomfort is vended at the very
highest possible prices !
And lastly, an Englishman dearly likes :
To grumble, no matter whether he is right or wrong, crying or
. laughing, working or playing, gaining a victory or smarting unuer a
discuss^ . , „ I national humiliation, paying or being paid—still he must grumble, and
in fact he is never so happy as when he is grumbling; aud, supposing
everything was to his satisfaction (though it says a great deal for our
power of assumption to assume any such absurd impossibilities), still he
would grumble at the fact of there being nothing for him to grumble
about!
After this "situation" the choruses would be heard now following
each other, now blending together, and ultimately retiring into the
distance, where a beautiful scenic effect, c^uld be arranged by a vision
representing Jones's dream. He might be seen lying in the middle of
the race course, with Laura smiling over him, Brown reeling before
him, the Sentimental Pickpocket busy behind him, and to very soft
music, indicative of the supposed state of his head—
The Curtain falls.
The Cold Tea Movement.
There is getting up in Scotland a great tea-spoon stir in the cause
of public morality. An association is about to be formed, to be called
"The Universal Sabbath Cold Tea Brotherhood and Sisterhood the
benign object of which is to co;npel everybody to drink cold tea on the
seventh day, in oruer to abolish the public scandal manifested in the
singing of the tea-kettle on Sundays !
A CAN IIS E QUEIIY.
"Mr. Punch,—You know everything, you therefore know that, once
upon a time, a dog, a terrier I believe, dwelling in Edinburgh, was pro-
fanely whistled to by his master on Sunday. The dog took tne offence
so much to heart, that tucking his tail between his legs, he ran away
and has never been heard of since. Do you, knowing everything, know
what has become of that dog ? Has he, upon the principle preached
by Pythagoras, been reproduced upon two legs; and is that original
Scotch terrier to be found in any one of the Scotch members who, in
the matter of the Sunday music, have howled and barked, and some say,
bitten Palmebston?
" Yours, Mr. Punch, Bow-Wow."
A Childish Thought.—We learn toleration from children ; for no
The Greatest Novelty of the Season.—Easter has passed, man can have bis whiskers pulled by a young Brat, without feeling what
Whitsuntide is over,—and we have not had one Balloon Ascent this \ an intolerable nuisance he must have been as a child himself.—J Surly
season. I Old Bachelor.