DOI Heft:
September 27, 1856
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16618#0130
122
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[September 27, 1856.
PARK-PREACHING.
E *5 Reverend Mr.
Crybback is an ear-
m st advocate of Sun-
day Park-Preaching.
Believing, and weep-
ing ' bitter tears " in
the belief that Sir
Benjamin Hall is the
patron of "miscreant
mobs of infidels, blas-
phemers ai d trumpet-
ers," to which end he
has refused to sanction
the Sunday utterances
of Ckybbace and Co.,
in Victoria Park, Mr.
C. has written a letter
to Sir Benjamin full
of Christian tender-
ness, and brotherly af-
fection. It will be im-
possible, we think, for
Haxl ro witbstaud the
beneficent, influence
of Crybbace. His
tongue so runs with
honey that he can
scai cely venture in the
neighbourhood of a
bee-iiive. Crybbacb's
tender thought, as he
himself expressed it,
on reading Sir Benjamin's prohibitive Diacard was—" Cowardly bully! He muse be beaten
into decency." Further, in his letter to Sir Benjamin, the mellifluous Crybbace writes—
" We utterly detest that smooth-tongued villany, concealing the most sinister designs under the fairest words, which
men of your sort consider political tact and courtly address."
Now there may possibly exist a difference of opinion as to the Reverend Gentleman's fitness
to preach in Victoria Park; but we think there is a locality where,.judging from the above
specimens of diction, the words of Mr. Crybbace could not fail to tell. Let him try
Billingsgate.
THE MODERN CANUTE.
Hope, that never flatters so charmingly as
when kings have to be flattered, r.old the 'flat-
tering tale, that all peasants born in Russia atrer
the coronation of the Emperor would be free.
This tale, however, turns out lo be about as false
as most of the tails worn by the horses in a
circus. We suppose that Alexander has his
flatterers, much the same as old Canute had, and
that they wish to persuade him that he can bid
the Serf not to pa*s a certaia li'tdt—saying to
it, "Thus <ar shalt thou come, but no further."
However, in the inevitable progress of events,
the Serf may advance, and in the rush tbe
Emperor may have to retreat, as Canute did,
unless perchance he tirefers being washed away
hy the advancing tide. In the meantime, it
would not, make a bad historical cartoon to be
hung up in ail the school-rooms (if there is
any other rod, but the rod of iron ?) in Russia,
illustrating "Alexander bidding the Sebf
to stand still "—carefully putting the date
under if, "1856."
Advice Gratis. (Fourth Batch.)
Be civil to the woman who bites the ends of her gloves.
In a balloon, don't sit opposite to a man with long legs.
Take care of your pockets, when you go to Exeter Hall.
The Loan at a Loan Office is best left alone.
Tell a woman nothing but what you want to be told
again.
Those who live in glass-houses had better pull the blinds
down.
Before washing, see that there is a towel at hand.
If you have a Lawyer for a next-door neighbour, you had
better not throw your weeds over into his garden.
The last Refuge. — Deserted by friend',
avoided by enemies, shunned by everybody, a
man retreats into himself, and turns misanthrope,
or else becomes a bill-discounter !
OPINIONS BEFORE AND AFTER THE WAR.
We are not aware that we are laying down any new truth in saying,
that opinions change with time and place. What is black as an
Ethiopian Serenader to-day may become couleur de rose as a May Queen
to-morrow: a slice of good luck, or a piece of orange-peel, a chimney-
sweep, or a fine day, a smile from a balcony, or a chimney-pot from a
housetoo, may make all the difference in our thoughts. If it is thus
with trifles, what must it be with grievances as big as a battle-field?
How differently we think of Russia now to what we did six months
ago ! We could not bring forward two better proofs of this changeable
feeling than the proofs ot two articles written by the same critic on
Mr. Btjreord's Panorama of St. Petersburg in Leicester Square.
This is the first article, written by him before the Treaty was signed :
ST. PETERSBURG :—AS IT WAS DURING THE WAR.
" This is a city every way worthy of the stone-hearted Despot who holds 60,000,000
of human beings in chains. The Palaces look like gaols—tbe houses have all the for-
bidding look of spongiug-houses about them. There is the thick stifling atmosphere
as of a prison about the place. It is Newgate enlarged, with the Fleet Ditch for a
river. The mouth, of the latter is as black as the mouth of a cannon. The sable
stream encircles the town like the band of crape round a burglar's hat. There is a
choking feeling of mourning that hangs over the town like a pall, and casts a deep
shadow of sorrow on all things. The trees bristle as with bayonets, the spring plants
appear no better than spring guns, the very pistils of the flowers seem as if they would
like to shoot at you. The air whistles by one's ear with the hissing sound of a rifle-
ball. The church-bells when they ring must have the jingle of a turnkey's bunch of
keys in them. You may be sure Joy never entered such a town ! It would as soon
think of playing at leap-frog with Me. Hunt's ' Scape-goat' on the salt-crusted banks
ot the Dead Sea, or giving a juvenile party in a Metropolitan Churchyard ! Let us run
away from this Bastille of a capital, or else the bars will be closing in upon us, and we
shall be treated like criminals, or, worse still, like Russians. Such a Vincennes of a
dungeon has a fit military keeper in that monumental man of iron, Alexander !"
This is the second article, written by the same unbiassed authority :—
ST. PETERSBURG:—AS IT IS AFTER THE WAR.
" Here is a fair light-hearted City ! Every window has a sparkle in it, every door
is on tne broad grin. It seems steeped in sugar, like a huge twelfth-cake; and what
shall we say ot the bright, glittering Neva? Why, it is a broad sheet of silver, that
runs round the twelfth-cake! If the town had been spun to order by a Fairy, there
could not be a lighter touch about it. It shines with a thonsand delicate shifting
colours, like a pigeon s-neck, or a monster opal flashing in the suu. Do not breathe, or
else you will blow the fairy bubble away, a bubble that you could swear had been
blown by Titanxa herself out of the prismatic spray of a rainbow that had been caught
span-new in Utopia I t is a long-exploded fable about the auriferous paving of London,
but here is the metallic reality ready to ring like new shillings under your feet, for in
truth the pavement looks sheeted with silver. The houses, too, are creamy white,
giving one the idea that they were washed every morning in new milk. The smoke
is not black bituminous smoke, like ours. It curls gracefully upwards, in light-blue
wreaths, like perfume from a choice Havannah. But we notice we have boots and
black trowsers on. and on our head we teel a heavy white hat, in form and colour not
unlike a Stilton cheese. Ourpresence by its vulgarity insults theidea,:ty of the lovely
scene before us. Such a highly-silvered metropolis is the fit casket fo. such a jewel of
an Emperor as Alexandeb, who only rules to make 60,000,000 human beings happy.
We will rush out, and allow our aching eyes to rest awhile after this bright illusion on
the dingy realities of that big, untidy bricklayer's yard, called Leicester Square."
We only give the above notices as proof how the opinions of some of
the widest of men turn unconsciously from hour to hour with the hour-
glass of politics. But neither report—not the very bUck one, nor the
very white one—does justice to the surpassing merits of Mr. Bur-
ford's Panorama. It is a flash of sunshine after the darkness of our
own Walls'-end London. To see the one after the other is like merging
out of a coal-cellar into the bright open air. It is a capital way of
seeing St- Petersburg, and gives one almost as good a peep into the
interior of a Russian town as one of Mr, Russell's photographic
descriptions. You see the town a vol d'aigle ; the eagle in this instance
being, of course, a Russian one. You take your flight merely by running
up one pair of stairs, and have the further satisfaction of saying into
the bargain all the expense and worry of coronation prices and
droschky extortions.
PASaiONABLE INTELLIGENCE.
At a party the other evening there were present six young ladies,
attired in the height—or rather width—of fashion, the circumference
of whose united dresses exactly equalled that of Astley's circus. It
was calculated by a Senior Wrangler who attended, that if the material
of which the six dresses were composed had been cut into strips of two
inches wide, it would have reached four times round the dome of
St. Paul's; while the air-tubes with which the skirts were expanded
would, if placed end to end, have very considerably overtopped tne
Monument. Some idea may be formed of the labour which the present
mode has rendered necessary, when we state that to fill the air-tubes of
a single dress it takes the most expert lady's maid, upon an average,
upwards of three hours and a quarter, even witn the help of a good-
sized pair of bellows.
A Short Sermon for Street Preachers.—" Move ou!"
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[September 27, 1856.
PARK-PREACHING.
E *5 Reverend Mr.
Crybback is an ear-
m st advocate of Sun-
day Park-Preaching.
Believing, and weep-
ing ' bitter tears " in
the belief that Sir
Benjamin Hall is the
patron of "miscreant
mobs of infidels, blas-
phemers ai d trumpet-
ers," to which end he
has refused to sanction
the Sunday utterances
of Ckybbace and Co.,
in Victoria Park, Mr.
C. has written a letter
to Sir Benjamin full
of Christian tender-
ness, and brotherly af-
fection. It will be im-
possible, we think, for
Haxl ro witbstaud the
beneficent, influence
of Crybbace. His
tongue so runs with
honey that he can
scai cely venture in the
neighbourhood of a
bee-iiive. Crybbacb's
tender thought, as he
himself expressed it,
on reading Sir Benjamin's prohibitive Diacard was—" Cowardly bully! He muse be beaten
into decency." Further, in his letter to Sir Benjamin, the mellifluous Crybbace writes—
" We utterly detest that smooth-tongued villany, concealing the most sinister designs under the fairest words, which
men of your sort consider political tact and courtly address."
Now there may possibly exist a difference of opinion as to the Reverend Gentleman's fitness
to preach in Victoria Park; but we think there is a locality where,.judging from the above
specimens of diction, the words of Mr. Crybbace could not fail to tell. Let him try
Billingsgate.
THE MODERN CANUTE.
Hope, that never flatters so charmingly as
when kings have to be flattered, r.old the 'flat-
tering tale, that all peasants born in Russia atrer
the coronation of the Emperor would be free.
This tale, however, turns out lo be about as false
as most of the tails worn by the horses in a
circus. We suppose that Alexander has his
flatterers, much the same as old Canute had, and
that they wish to persuade him that he can bid
the Serf not to pa*s a certaia li'tdt—saying to
it, "Thus <ar shalt thou come, but no further."
However, in the inevitable progress of events,
the Serf may advance, and in the rush tbe
Emperor may have to retreat, as Canute did,
unless perchance he tirefers being washed away
hy the advancing tide. In the meantime, it
would not, make a bad historical cartoon to be
hung up in ail the school-rooms (if there is
any other rod, but the rod of iron ?) in Russia,
illustrating "Alexander bidding the Sebf
to stand still "—carefully putting the date
under if, "1856."
Advice Gratis. (Fourth Batch.)
Be civil to the woman who bites the ends of her gloves.
In a balloon, don't sit opposite to a man with long legs.
Take care of your pockets, when you go to Exeter Hall.
The Loan at a Loan Office is best left alone.
Tell a woman nothing but what you want to be told
again.
Those who live in glass-houses had better pull the blinds
down.
Before washing, see that there is a towel at hand.
If you have a Lawyer for a next-door neighbour, you had
better not throw your weeds over into his garden.
The last Refuge. — Deserted by friend',
avoided by enemies, shunned by everybody, a
man retreats into himself, and turns misanthrope,
or else becomes a bill-discounter !
OPINIONS BEFORE AND AFTER THE WAR.
We are not aware that we are laying down any new truth in saying,
that opinions change with time and place. What is black as an
Ethiopian Serenader to-day may become couleur de rose as a May Queen
to-morrow: a slice of good luck, or a piece of orange-peel, a chimney-
sweep, or a fine day, a smile from a balcony, or a chimney-pot from a
housetoo, may make all the difference in our thoughts. If it is thus
with trifles, what must it be with grievances as big as a battle-field?
How differently we think of Russia now to what we did six months
ago ! We could not bring forward two better proofs of this changeable
feeling than the proofs ot two articles written by the same critic on
Mr. Btjreord's Panorama of St. Petersburg in Leicester Square.
This is the first article, written by him before the Treaty was signed :
ST. PETERSBURG :—AS IT WAS DURING THE WAR.
" This is a city every way worthy of the stone-hearted Despot who holds 60,000,000
of human beings in chains. The Palaces look like gaols—tbe houses have all the for-
bidding look of spongiug-houses about them. There is the thick stifling atmosphere
as of a prison about the place. It is Newgate enlarged, with the Fleet Ditch for a
river. The mouth, of the latter is as black as the mouth of a cannon. The sable
stream encircles the town like the band of crape round a burglar's hat. There is a
choking feeling of mourning that hangs over the town like a pall, and casts a deep
shadow of sorrow on all things. The trees bristle as with bayonets, the spring plants
appear no better than spring guns, the very pistils of the flowers seem as if they would
like to shoot at you. The air whistles by one's ear with the hissing sound of a rifle-
ball. The church-bells when they ring must have the jingle of a turnkey's bunch of
keys in them. You may be sure Joy never entered such a town ! It would as soon
think of playing at leap-frog with Me. Hunt's ' Scape-goat' on the salt-crusted banks
ot the Dead Sea, or giving a juvenile party in a Metropolitan Churchyard ! Let us run
away from this Bastille of a capital, or else the bars will be closing in upon us, and we
shall be treated like criminals, or, worse still, like Russians. Such a Vincennes of a
dungeon has a fit military keeper in that monumental man of iron, Alexander !"
This is the second article, written by the same unbiassed authority :—
ST. PETERSBURG:—AS IT IS AFTER THE WAR.
" Here is a fair light-hearted City ! Every window has a sparkle in it, every door
is on tne broad grin. It seems steeped in sugar, like a huge twelfth-cake; and what
shall we say ot the bright, glittering Neva? Why, it is a broad sheet of silver, that
runs round the twelfth-cake! If the town had been spun to order by a Fairy, there
could not be a lighter touch about it. It shines with a thonsand delicate shifting
colours, like a pigeon s-neck, or a monster opal flashing in the suu. Do not breathe, or
else you will blow the fairy bubble away, a bubble that you could swear had been
blown by Titanxa herself out of the prismatic spray of a rainbow that had been caught
span-new in Utopia I t is a long-exploded fable about the auriferous paving of London,
but here is the metallic reality ready to ring like new shillings under your feet, for in
truth the pavement looks sheeted with silver. The houses, too, are creamy white,
giving one the idea that they were washed every morning in new milk. The smoke
is not black bituminous smoke, like ours. It curls gracefully upwards, in light-blue
wreaths, like perfume from a choice Havannah. But we notice we have boots and
black trowsers on. and on our head we teel a heavy white hat, in form and colour not
unlike a Stilton cheese. Ourpresence by its vulgarity insults theidea,:ty of the lovely
scene before us. Such a highly-silvered metropolis is the fit casket fo. such a jewel of
an Emperor as Alexandeb, who only rules to make 60,000,000 human beings happy.
We will rush out, and allow our aching eyes to rest awhile after this bright illusion on
the dingy realities of that big, untidy bricklayer's yard, called Leicester Square."
We only give the above notices as proof how the opinions of some of
the widest of men turn unconsciously from hour to hour with the hour-
glass of politics. But neither report—not the very bUck one, nor the
very white one—does justice to the surpassing merits of Mr. Bur-
ford's Panorama. It is a flash of sunshine after the darkness of our
own Walls'-end London. To see the one after the other is like merging
out of a coal-cellar into the bright open air. It is a capital way of
seeing St- Petersburg, and gives one almost as good a peep into the
interior of a Russian town as one of Mr, Russell's photographic
descriptions. You see the town a vol d'aigle ; the eagle in this instance
being, of course, a Russian one. You take your flight merely by running
up one pair of stairs, and have the further satisfaction of saying into
the bargain all the expense and worry of coronation prices and
droschky extortions.
PASaiONABLE INTELLIGENCE.
At a party the other evening there were present six young ladies,
attired in the height—or rather width—of fashion, the circumference
of whose united dresses exactly equalled that of Astley's circus. It
was calculated by a Senior Wrangler who attended, that if the material
of which the six dresses were composed had been cut into strips of two
inches wide, it would have reached four times round the dome of
St. Paul's; while the air-tubes with which the skirts were expanded
would, if placed end to end, have very considerably overtopped tne
Monument. Some idea may be formed of the labour which the present
mode has rendered necessary, when we state that to fill the air-tubes of
a single dress it takes the most expert lady's maid, upon an average,
upwards of three hours and a quarter, even witn the help of a good-
sized pair of bellows.
A Short Sermon for Street Preachers.—" Move ou!"