Punch: Punch (33.1857)

206

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [November 14, 1857.

Youth. "Here's a Nuisance, now ! Blowed if I ain't left my Cigar-Case on
mt Dressing-room Table, and that Young Brother of mine will be Smoking

ALL my best EeGALIAS ! "

AN INVASION OF PRIVILEGES.

At a Court of Common Council, held last Friday, there
was strange language used, which astonished us rather,
though we were perfectly aware that Common Councilmen
were speaking. Amongst other elegancies, one gentleman
advised another "to wash his dirty linen at home," where-
upon Mr. Lawley, protesting, said that:—

" In such a place he should think gentlemen might rse respectful
language, although be knew how difficult it was for some animals to
leave their dirt at home. (Confusion.) "

Mr. Lawley's notion of "respectful language," judged
by the language he makes use of himself, seems to be
drawn from somewhat impure sources. We think the
Waterman on the cabstand of the Haymarket, even late
at night, would have reproved a " cabby," if he had indulged
in such an elegant retort as the above. No wonder that
the Lord Mayor rose to order,—though whether he
ordered eau-de-Cologne, or lime, or burnt feathers, or rose-
water, or whitewash, or what peculiar deodorising mixture,
the report omits to state. However, the beauty of the
satire has yet to come.

The very next piece of business of the Common Council
turns on Billingsgate Market, and an orator jumps on his-
legs, to move :—

" That it be referred to the Market Committee, to examine into-
the rights of the Corporation to let standiugs at Billingsgate Market,
die, <5ec."

Oh ! yes, a perfect right, we should say, not only a right
to "let standings," but thoroughly qualified, as tested by
the above specimens of oratory, to hold standings likewise.
But few fishfags, we should think, would like to enter into-
verbal competition with Common Councilmen.

However, the close partnership between Billingsgate and
bad language, in the above report, amuses us amazingly
from the force of old association, living, as we do, in a hard
prosaic age, when so very few associations are left to us.
Even now. a friend assures us, that you might go into-
Billingsgate Market for an entire month, and your ears
woula not be assailed with a personality half so offensive
as Mr. Lawley's.

If so, the Market and the Common Council had better
change places.

ANOTHER ILLUSION GONE!

It seems that there are to be juvenile crossing-sweepers dotted all
over London, on the same plan as the Shoe-Black Brigade. Now, we
always thought that a good crossing was a most valuable property:
To our ignorant minds, twelve yards of mud, in a populous thorough-
fare, fetched full as much money as a share in the New liiver Company.
We implicitly believed that a crossing was handed down from father
to son, and was reverenced by grateful generations as a heir-loom that
nothing but a personal calamity, such as an involuntary trip to Botany
Bay, or a fit of apoplexy from over-feeding, ever forced the happy
owner to part with! What becomes of all the marvellous stories
about crossirig-sweepers upbraiding their wives for having neglected
to bring them a lemon with their breast of veal, and of daughters
having incurred their father's wrath for putting jugged hare before
iliem on the door-step without the usual accompaniment of currant-
lelly ? We always looked with reverential eyes on a crossing-sweeper,
as a superior being, who was lined with venison and bank-notes, ana
had his family pew, and sent his sons to college, and engaged Madame
Pleyel to teach his daughters the piano. It was only necessary for
hint, we fondly imagined, to go into the City at any time to alter the
rate of Discount.

We pictured him at home, in a magnificent velvet dressing-gown,
sitting by the side of a comfortable fire, with his pine-apple before him,
and a Turkish pipe coiled like an American sea-serpent about his
feet. The room, in which he lolled his ambrosial evenings away,
breathed—so we drew the gorgeous vision—a Hyde-Park-Gardens air
of luxury and the damask D'Oyleys had, to our mental nostrils, the
perfume of choice wines. Did we not hear of his bequeathing stu-
pendous legacies to friendless old gentlemen, who occasionally had
dropped a stray penny into his huge Midas-gifted palm, which, like a
banker's scoop, was busy in taking up money, all day long ? And do
all these glorious fictions topple down, like so many others, into the
mud, and betray to us the sad truth that the crossings of London are
no more "paved with gold" than any other part of the dirty metro-
polis ? It would seem that a crossing is not sold, like a milk-walk, or
a copper-mine, or a gold-field, but is to be had, as Delhi was, merely

for the taking. Like any other path through life, the only value of it
depends upon the industry you devote to it. Well, if these dcsillmiom
continue much longer, the time will come when we shall begin to
doubt whether sailors fry watches, and eat sandwiches of fives, tens,
and fifties; and, growing gradually credulous of the wildest improba-
bilities, we shall actually learn to put faith in the existence of a
Policeman!

BIGOTRY, INTOLERANCE, AND FIREWORKS.

We have great pleasure iu announcing that the observance of the
Eifth of November was very general, and very signal this year. No-
less than 5,000 persons were employed in letting off fireworks on
Tower-Hill. At Hammersmith—a place which is greatly infested with
Roman aliens—numerous Guys were paraded; among them there was
a living reality on horseback; a gentleman who had got himself up in
a style combining Fawkes with Ealstaff. These displays of popular
bigotry and intolerance are greatly to be commended; and they
are very seasonable just now, when Popery is trying to enslave the
Continent, and genteel Puseyites at home are slyly doing its-
work wherever they can; as, for instance, in a certain Review.

As saints, and thorough going adherents to Exeter Hall, we rejoice
in the demonstration which was made on Thursday last against the
subjects of a foreign power, who are plotting, and scheming, anc
intriguing, and chanting through the nose, in the view of setting up
their Italian Empire in Her Majesty's dominions. May the British
Public continue to burn the Pope annually in effigy, so long as there
exists a British gander capable of allowing his goose to frequent the
confessional! Squibs and crackers are not arguments exactly, but they
are very good answers to dogmatic lies. They cannot hurt the feelings
of our Catholic fellow-subjects, because we have no such fellows
What fellowship is there between the subjects of the Queen op
England and those of the Pope of Rome ? .

The Snob's Definition of the Satisfaction of a Gentleman.
-Self-satisfaction.