DOI Heft:
June 4, 1859
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16623#0242
234 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [J™ 4, 1859.
COMIC OBSEQUIES,
E read in the Court Journal an
account of the funeral of
Prince Rospigliosi, at
Rome ; a story which looks
very muck like a hoax. Ac-
cording to this narrative the
Prince was buried in the
family vault of the Rospi-
gliosi, at the Church of San
Francesco a Eippa—conveyed
thither in a coach " gaily
decked and newly painted for
the occasion "—like the Loud
Mayor's, we suppose. The
ceremony concluded with the
following absurdity:—
" The bead cook in his costume
of cinque cento, advanced respect-
fully to the foot of the bier, and,
bowing to the ground, asked the
usual morning question, ' Your Ex-
cellency has orders for me ?' The
inquiry was made with an expres-
sive smile and a distinctness of
utterance which almost shook the nerves of the bystanders. The dead man, bow-
ever, not betrayiug by word or gesture any comprehension of the question, the
great functionary of the Rospigliosi household, after waiting patiently for a few
moments, withdrew, walking backwards to the door of the church, and, standing
in the porch, called out with a stentorian voice to the drivers of the Rospiqliosi
carriages, gathered in vast numbers in the piazza, ' Drive home ! His Excellency
has no further orders to give you, and will require your services no more.' "
The Court Journal remarks that the ceremony above partly described
will, as belonging to another century and a bygone order of things,
doubtless be the last of its kind; an observation which implies a belief
that it really did take place in the present century, and the other day.
It is difficult to conceive that such a piece of melancholy buffoonery
could have been perpetrated anywhere off the stage or out of a lunatic
asylum; nevertheless, when we consider that foolery yet more solemn
is often performed at Rome with the Pope for first Merry-Andrew, we
see it to be possible that this burlesque burial may also_ have been
enacted in the Eternal City. One fool makes many—especially a fool
whose cap is three-crowned, and whose bauble consists of the keys of
heaven and the other place; and after his Holiness's benediction of
cinders, Rospigliosi's cook may perhaps have thought that he was
not making much of a profane ass of himself by playing Lepwello, as it
were, to his dead master for Commendatore in his coffin and in a
Church.
There are, however, fools in other places than Rome, and so long as
when we look at home, we see that dismal zanies are customarily lured
on mournful occasions to attend black vehicles pranked out with
feathers, and masquerade in the guise of Lord Lovel, we must not say
very much about the above Italian tomfool, who rendered himself
more ridiculous than a British mute only by speaking.
Mother Wit.
The following bit of playfulness was overheard in the crush-room of
Covent-Garden Opera. The intellectual gladiators were Sir Robert
Peel and his great chum Spooner :—
" I say, what division of Natural History does the Talking Fish
belong to ?"
" Why, my dear Dick, from the very facile way in which it says
'Ma -ma,' I should sav it was the Mammalia."
Retaliation.
The Munich ladies have entered into a solemn compact not to wear
any French dresses. The Parisian ladies are about to take fearful
revenge. A female league will shortly be formed, every member of
winch is to take an oath that under no circumstances whatever, medical
recommendation only excepted, will she drink a drop of Bavarian beer!
It is expected that it will be the turn of the sausages next. Cut off the
sausages and the beer, and you abolish ail the exports that Germany
sends to France.'
The Crossing Sweeper's Best Friend.
City Swell {splashed by a watering-cart). The Deuce take you, you've
spout my best peg-tops.
Crossing-Sweeper {appealingly). Don't swear at 'em, Sir—please, Sir,
(ion t. lhey re the wery best friends we've got. We should starve,
Car m this ere dry weather, if it warn't for them blessed watering-
carts lhey re bread and meat and drink and washing to us, Sir.
lhey do make such a jolly mess !
THE PUPIL TO HIS PARENTS.
" Euphemia House Academy, 28/5/59.
" My dear Papa and Mamma,
" At the request of my Preceptor, I take an opportunity of
writing you a few lines of my own composition, and consisting of remarks
on a subject of interest which has presented itself to me in the course
of my studies.
" Laurence Junior's parents, the other day, sent him a cake—that
surest token of paternal and maternal affection. It was wrapped up
in a newspaper called the Morning Post, in which I read a singular
account of a horse-race at a place named Newmarket, signed with the
name of ' Argus.'
" Argus was the son of Arestor, whence he was sometimes called
Arestorides, on the same principle, my beloved parents, I believe, as
that on which is formed the well known name of Johnson, which
originally signified John's son, or the son of John j being what the
learned denominate a patronymic. Argus married Ismene the
daughter of Asopus, son of the heathen deity Neptune, and the tutelar
divinity of a river in Thessaly. The poets represented Argus with a
hundred eyes, thus elegantly adorning with the garb of fiction the fact
that he was always uncommonly wide awake. I am at a loss to explain
how this peculiarity occasioned the adoption of his name by a writer
whose observations relate principally to the subject of horses.
" Among those observations I encountered the following extra-
ordinary passage:—
" Mr. Merry, who was not present, stood a monkey on his mare, whose con-
dition was quite as good as her opportunity."
" I have devoted several moments of leisure to the consideration of this
passage, which contains an expression of extremely doubtful propriety.
Let us, my dear parents, endeavour to analyse this very remarkable
phrase. What may we imagine to be the meaning of the statement
that Mr. Merry ' stood a monkey on his mare.'
" The lower orders, with whose idioms, I have thought it my duty
to acquaint myself, only, believe me, in order that I may carefully avoid
them, are accustomed to talk of standing an object in a position—for
example, standing the poker in the corner, or standing the pewter
vessel on the mantel-piece. This is incorrect. Instead of saying I
stood the poker in the corner, we should say I placed the instrument
so called in that situation—should we not ?
" May we therefore conjecture that, when Argus stated that Mr.
Merry stood a monkey on Ms mare, he intended to describe the gen-
tleman in question as having, with a view to create diversion, placed
an animal of that mischievous disposition and ridiculous appearance on
the mare's back ? If this supposition is correct, the sport of horse-
racing must surely be regarded as consisting, in part at least, of very
puerile absurdity, and we shall be inclined to suspect that the name of
Mr. Merry is an abbreviation of that of Mr. Merriman.
" The above conjecture is, however, irreconcileable with the general
correctness of Argus in point of grammar ; which is the more striking
from the consideration, that persons who are conversant with the
stable are exceedingly apt to contract the style of conversation which
characterises those who are employed in it. This contagion, however,
he has not, I fear, entirely escaped. There is too much reason to
apprehend, that in the passage under consideration, he uses the word
'stand,' not, indeed, ungrammatically, but as a cant expression. I
have ascertained that, in the language of the populace, to stand a
measure of porter, for instance, means to undertake the responsibility
of paying for it; to stand, as it were, sponsor for that quantity of
liquor.
" I imagine, therefore, the meaning of Argus to be, that Mr. Merry
rendered himself responsible for something called a monkey, which, I
fear, is another popular synonym, and signifies a sum of money. My
Preceptor informs me that the vocabulary of persons who frequent
horse-races, and are in the habit of laying wagers, abounds with similar
expressions, which are also commonly employed by all those classes
that devote themselves to the acquisition of wealth by other means
than those of industry.
" I trust, my dearest parents, that a scrupulous purity of language
will always accompany and correspond to that refined morality to
practise which will ever be the uncleviating aim of your affectionate
and obedient Child,
" Joseph Punch."
" P.S. Enclosed is a little sketch, which I trust will attest the
progress I have made in my drawing. It is the portrait of my vener-
able Preceptor. Perhaps I need not observe that old Windus has
not perused this concluding portion of my epistle; to which I will only
add that I am hard up, having been regularly cleaned out at ' Head's
and Tails,' and I hope, Governor, you '11 fork out; and please, Mother,
send us some grub. " Joe."
One op the Horrors of War.—Mr. David Urquhart lecturing
upon it.
COMIC OBSEQUIES,
E read in the Court Journal an
account of the funeral of
Prince Rospigliosi, at
Rome ; a story which looks
very muck like a hoax. Ac-
cording to this narrative the
Prince was buried in the
family vault of the Rospi-
gliosi, at the Church of San
Francesco a Eippa—conveyed
thither in a coach " gaily
decked and newly painted for
the occasion "—like the Loud
Mayor's, we suppose. The
ceremony concluded with the
following absurdity:—
" The bead cook in his costume
of cinque cento, advanced respect-
fully to the foot of the bier, and,
bowing to the ground, asked the
usual morning question, ' Your Ex-
cellency has orders for me ?' The
inquiry was made with an expres-
sive smile and a distinctness of
utterance which almost shook the nerves of the bystanders. The dead man, bow-
ever, not betrayiug by word or gesture any comprehension of the question, the
great functionary of the Rospigliosi household, after waiting patiently for a few
moments, withdrew, walking backwards to the door of the church, and, standing
in the porch, called out with a stentorian voice to the drivers of the Rospiqliosi
carriages, gathered in vast numbers in the piazza, ' Drive home ! His Excellency
has no further orders to give you, and will require your services no more.' "
The Court Journal remarks that the ceremony above partly described
will, as belonging to another century and a bygone order of things,
doubtless be the last of its kind; an observation which implies a belief
that it really did take place in the present century, and the other day.
It is difficult to conceive that such a piece of melancholy buffoonery
could have been perpetrated anywhere off the stage or out of a lunatic
asylum; nevertheless, when we consider that foolery yet more solemn
is often performed at Rome with the Pope for first Merry-Andrew, we
see it to be possible that this burlesque burial may also_ have been
enacted in the Eternal City. One fool makes many—especially a fool
whose cap is three-crowned, and whose bauble consists of the keys of
heaven and the other place; and after his Holiness's benediction of
cinders, Rospigliosi's cook may perhaps have thought that he was
not making much of a profane ass of himself by playing Lepwello, as it
were, to his dead master for Commendatore in his coffin and in a
Church.
There are, however, fools in other places than Rome, and so long as
when we look at home, we see that dismal zanies are customarily lured
on mournful occasions to attend black vehicles pranked out with
feathers, and masquerade in the guise of Lord Lovel, we must not say
very much about the above Italian tomfool, who rendered himself
more ridiculous than a British mute only by speaking.
Mother Wit.
The following bit of playfulness was overheard in the crush-room of
Covent-Garden Opera. The intellectual gladiators were Sir Robert
Peel and his great chum Spooner :—
" I say, what division of Natural History does the Talking Fish
belong to ?"
" Why, my dear Dick, from the very facile way in which it says
'Ma -ma,' I should sav it was the Mammalia."
Retaliation.
The Munich ladies have entered into a solemn compact not to wear
any French dresses. The Parisian ladies are about to take fearful
revenge. A female league will shortly be formed, every member of
winch is to take an oath that under no circumstances whatever, medical
recommendation only excepted, will she drink a drop of Bavarian beer!
It is expected that it will be the turn of the sausages next. Cut off the
sausages and the beer, and you abolish ail the exports that Germany
sends to France.'
The Crossing Sweeper's Best Friend.
City Swell {splashed by a watering-cart). The Deuce take you, you've
spout my best peg-tops.
Crossing-Sweeper {appealingly). Don't swear at 'em, Sir—please, Sir,
(ion t. lhey re the wery best friends we've got. We should starve,
Car m this ere dry weather, if it warn't for them blessed watering-
carts lhey re bread and meat and drink and washing to us, Sir.
lhey do make such a jolly mess !
THE PUPIL TO HIS PARENTS.
" Euphemia House Academy, 28/5/59.
" My dear Papa and Mamma,
" At the request of my Preceptor, I take an opportunity of
writing you a few lines of my own composition, and consisting of remarks
on a subject of interest which has presented itself to me in the course
of my studies.
" Laurence Junior's parents, the other day, sent him a cake—that
surest token of paternal and maternal affection. It was wrapped up
in a newspaper called the Morning Post, in which I read a singular
account of a horse-race at a place named Newmarket, signed with the
name of ' Argus.'
" Argus was the son of Arestor, whence he was sometimes called
Arestorides, on the same principle, my beloved parents, I believe, as
that on which is formed the well known name of Johnson, which
originally signified John's son, or the son of John j being what the
learned denominate a patronymic. Argus married Ismene the
daughter of Asopus, son of the heathen deity Neptune, and the tutelar
divinity of a river in Thessaly. The poets represented Argus with a
hundred eyes, thus elegantly adorning with the garb of fiction the fact
that he was always uncommonly wide awake. I am at a loss to explain
how this peculiarity occasioned the adoption of his name by a writer
whose observations relate principally to the subject of horses.
" Among those observations I encountered the following extra-
ordinary passage:—
" Mr. Merry, who was not present, stood a monkey on his mare, whose con-
dition was quite as good as her opportunity."
" I have devoted several moments of leisure to the consideration of this
passage, which contains an expression of extremely doubtful propriety.
Let us, my dear parents, endeavour to analyse this very remarkable
phrase. What may we imagine to be the meaning of the statement
that Mr. Merry ' stood a monkey on his mare.'
" The lower orders, with whose idioms, I have thought it my duty
to acquaint myself, only, believe me, in order that I may carefully avoid
them, are accustomed to talk of standing an object in a position—for
example, standing the poker in the corner, or standing the pewter
vessel on the mantel-piece. This is incorrect. Instead of saying I
stood the poker in the corner, we should say I placed the instrument
so called in that situation—should we not ?
" May we therefore conjecture that, when Argus stated that Mr.
Merry stood a monkey on Ms mare, he intended to describe the gen-
tleman in question as having, with a view to create diversion, placed
an animal of that mischievous disposition and ridiculous appearance on
the mare's back ? If this supposition is correct, the sport of horse-
racing must surely be regarded as consisting, in part at least, of very
puerile absurdity, and we shall be inclined to suspect that the name of
Mr. Merry is an abbreviation of that of Mr. Merriman.
" The above conjecture is, however, irreconcileable with the general
correctness of Argus in point of grammar ; which is the more striking
from the consideration, that persons who are conversant with the
stable are exceedingly apt to contract the style of conversation which
characterises those who are employed in it. This contagion, however,
he has not, I fear, entirely escaped. There is too much reason to
apprehend, that in the passage under consideration, he uses the word
'stand,' not, indeed, ungrammatically, but as a cant expression. I
have ascertained that, in the language of the populace, to stand a
measure of porter, for instance, means to undertake the responsibility
of paying for it; to stand, as it were, sponsor for that quantity of
liquor.
" I imagine, therefore, the meaning of Argus to be, that Mr. Merry
rendered himself responsible for something called a monkey, which, I
fear, is another popular synonym, and signifies a sum of money. My
Preceptor informs me that the vocabulary of persons who frequent
horse-races, and are in the habit of laying wagers, abounds with similar
expressions, which are also commonly employed by all those classes
that devote themselves to the acquisition of wealth by other means
than those of industry.
" I trust, my dearest parents, that a scrupulous purity of language
will always accompany and correspond to that refined morality to
practise which will ever be the uncleviating aim of your affectionate
and obedient Child,
" Joseph Punch."
" P.S. Enclosed is a little sketch, which I trust will attest the
progress I have made in my drawing. It is the portrait of my vener-
able Preceptor. Perhaps I need not observe that old Windus has
not perused this concluding portion of my epistle; to which I will only
add that I am hard up, having been regularly cleaned out at ' Head's
and Tails,' and I hope, Governor, you '11 fork out; and please, Mother,
send us some grub. " Joe."
One op the Horrors of War.—Mr. David Urquhart lecturing
upon it.