DOI issue:
August 13, 1859
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16864#0075
64
PUNCH, Oil THE LONDON CHARIVARI
[August 13, 1859.
Thursday. The only fun of the day was in the House of Commons, in Sup-
ply. Loud Palmerston, who thinks he knows everything (and does know
a good deal), made a speech on Architectural Art, and took enormous
pains to prove that Mr. Scott’s design for the new Government Offices
ought not to he adopted, because it is Gothic. The noble Lord seemed
to have been reading up Mr. Peter Cunningham’s Handbook, and
gave a very long list of public buildings in London, in order to show
that Gothic architecture was not popular; but the list comprised such
a lot of edifices which one would be glad to hear had fallen down, or
been burned, that the logic went for nothing. Anybody who really
understands the question, knows that Gothic architecture can be ren-
dered suitable for the purposes of any building, religious or profane;
and clever old Pam talked nonsense. Even Lord John Manners
had the “pull” upon him on this occasion. Sir Joseph Paxton set
the House right upon the foolish notion that Gothic apartments must
be “dark.” Greek architects built walls without windows ; it was the
Gothic builders who made those holes in the walls; and Sir Joseph
■declared that Scott’s design actually provided rather too much light.
Eor the credit of the country, Mr. Punch hopes that the best design
will be adopted; and as the blouse voted £30,000 for the foundation,
and this is to be under Mr. Scott’s direction, things seem working
the right wray.
Friday. A queer plan for filtering the Serpentine instead of cleansing
it is to be adopted at an expense of £17,000. The world will rejoice to
hear that Sir Tommy Wilson has had another overthrow—he having
■once more ventured to try it on about Hampstead Heath. Lord
Fermoy, as the new M.P. for Marylebone, had the opportunity of
walking into Wilson, and did so very properly. A bit of personality,
originated by Mr. [Roebuck, touching 1)r. Michell, M.P. for
Bodmin, who retires, as he plainly says, rather than ruin himself by
defending his seat, though he is innocent of bribery, gave some interest
to a dull evening. The House of Commons is intended for Rich Men
■only, or men whose friends are rich, and people who have simply the
incomes of gentlemen have no business there. Our [National Defences
•continued the piece de resistance in the House, as Mr. Punch trusts
they will prove elsewhere at need. The Ministerial White Bait wras
ordered for the following Wednesday.
A CALUMNY ON COOKS.
company of ladies, in which it is his fortune to obtain a moment’s
audience : and he will learn from them that cooks are all avoiders of
strong liquors as carefully as Punch is an eschevrer of weak jokes.
THE LAMENT OE THE SPIDER.
In window and in cornice-nook my filmy net I spread,
Or from the ceiling hang aloft my web of slender thread,
Spun from my. poor inside in vain; no snare can I devise
That longer will afford me prey : I can’t catch any flies.
None are there to be caught, alas!—no luck about the house;
I’m like a cat that’s neither fed, nor yet can find a mouse.
As stingy housewives use their cats, ail mistresses treat me,
E’en when dear lazy serving-maids my works leave besom-free.
This dwelling swarmed throughout with flies a little week ago,
And I and hosts of brothefs hung our meshes high and low;
But now our quarry’s all destroyed; each fly is dead and gone :
My brothers are departed too, and 1 alone live on.
Deprived of game, and so of food, starvation I endure,
’Tis poison that has ruined me—that deadly Papier Moure /
That web—more fatal to the flies than any net of mine—
Was set for them the other day—from which I’ve ceased to dine.
They drank—they flew away—they died—I caught some in their flight.
Woe is me that I tasted them, for since I’ve ne’er been right.
With inward pangs convulsed I writhe, and, if I could, should groan.
From eating flies infected with worse venom than my own.
A plague upon the soaking scrap the spider’s sport which spoils,
Which mocks his patient industry, by frustrating his toils ;
Now is my geometric woof of not the slightest use,
Except to point the cackle of a moralising goose.
Farewell my old, my loved abode, whence, forced by want to roam,
Forth must I go for sustenance, and find another home ;
Where, for there only can I live, there only food procure,
The blessed inmates don’t mind flies, or don’t use Papier Moure.
obriety and honesty do not
commonly in Devonshire
go hand in hand with cook-
ery, however close connec-
tion they may elsewhere
have with it. Such at least
seems the opinion of the
writer of the following,
which a correspondent
sends us from the Western
Times:—
IF there is in Exeter, or
its neighbourhood, a Sober,
Honest, and Respectable PLAIN
COOK, about 35 or 40 years of
age, with a character of stand-
ing, requiring a place, she may
hear something to her advantage,
at No. 227, High Street.
Our correspondent—who
betrays that she belongs to
the fair sex, not merely by
her writing and the softness
of her style, in speaking as
she does of onr “inimitable
paper,” but by using needle
and thread to fix her ex-
tract to her note, — our
correspondent “ trusts that
we shall not imagine ” that the character of Devon cooks has “ fallen to
so low a standard ” as the “perpetrator” of this “absurd advertise-
ment ” believes. In a culinary interest, as well as that of gallantry, we
hasten to allay her apprehensions on this point. Our imagination, we
assure her, is m much too firm control for it ever to run riot in the manner
she so fears it may. In our wildest dreams of fancy we never could
believe in the existence of a cook who was not honest and respectable,
and, above all, sober to a fault. We believe this is the general culinary
rule, and w'e see no cause why Devonshire should form a base excep-
tion to it. We.should as soon think of hearing of a tipsy teetotaller
as of a cook being notorious for a weakness for strong drinks. If the
“ perpetrator ” of the above has any doubt of this, let him consult the
pages of The Greatest Plague of Life, and he will there find the most
ample confirmation of the fact. Or let him moot the point in any
HALF-MEASURES.
The Chancellor of the Exchequer, in asking for a vote of
£10,000 to re-coin the old copper coinage, informed the House that the
“ intrinsic value of the new coins would not be more than half of the
present ones.” We ask the Chancellor of the Exchequer if this
is what he would call turning “ an honest penny ? ”—for every newly-
coined penny, according to this statement, would not be worth more
than the present halfpenny. This is a system of half-price that the
Mint seems to have borrowed from our Theatres. The Chancellor
of the Exchequer should write outside bis door, “Half Prtce
iias Commenced.” This is a new form of taxation, and if for every
penny be receives be only gives back a halfpenny, it is a clear gain of
fifty per cent., and we do not see what necessity there is for the impo-
sition (imposition in every sense) of the Income-Tax. Will the same
reduction be carried out with our silver and gold coinage ? for it
Eromises, if adopted, to be the speediest extinction of the National
<ebt that has ever been hit upon. Putting the revenue down at
£70,000,000, he will be able to apply £35,000,000 of it every year
towards that amiable purpose. We always thought that Mr. Glad-
stone was a first-rate Chancellor of the Exchequer, and now we are
convinced of it. He not only gives us a bright new coin, but saves
the nation sixpence upon every shilling. Mr. Disraeli was not so
good a Chancellor—by one-half.
Things are Much as they “Used to Was.”*
At Milan, the mob flung the Emperor of Austria’s portrait into
the streets. It matters but little about the.copy being turned out, so
long as the original has the power of turning m again. It has not
pleased the Genius of Italy to take Erancis-Joseph off the hooks just
yet. We are afraid that tne shadow of his countenance will be felt all
over Lombardy for several years to come. The Emperor may thank
Louis Napoleon for restoring him to pretty nearly the same place
that he has always occupied. The only relief the poor Italians liave
is, to denounce the restoration as “ a hanging shame.”
* P. Bedford, Esq.
A Hippophagistic Delicacy.—A horse-eating restaurant has.started
a new equine delicacy. It announces on its plate-glass windows,
“Mare’s-Nest Soup Every Day.”
PUNCH, Oil THE LONDON CHARIVARI
[August 13, 1859.
Thursday. The only fun of the day was in the House of Commons, in Sup-
ply. Loud Palmerston, who thinks he knows everything (and does know
a good deal), made a speech on Architectural Art, and took enormous
pains to prove that Mr. Scott’s design for the new Government Offices
ought not to he adopted, because it is Gothic. The noble Lord seemed
to have been reading up Mr. Peter Cunningham’s Handbook, and
gave a very long list of public buildings in London, in order to show
that Gothic architecture was not popular; but the list comprised such
a lot of edifices which one would be glad to hear had fallen down, or
been burned, that the logic went for nothing. Anybody who really
understands the question, knows that Gothic architecture can be ren-
dered suitable for the purposes of any building, religious or profane;
and clever old Pam talked nonsense. Even Lord John Manners
had the “pull” upon him on this occasion. Sir Joseph Paxton set
the House right upon the foolish notion that Gothic apartments must
be “dark.” Greek architects built walls without windows ; it was the
Gothic builders who made those holes in the walls; and Sir Joseph
■declared that Scott’s design actually provided rather too much light.
Eor the credit of the country, Mr. Punch hopes that the best design
will be adopted; and as the blouse voted £30,000 for the foundation,
and this is to be under Mr. Scott’s direction, things seem working
the right wray.
Friday. A queer plan for filtering the Serpentine instead of cleansing
it is to be adopted at an expense of £17,000. The world will rejoice to
hear that Sir Tommy Wilson has had another overthrow—he having
■once more ventured to try it on about Hampstead Heath. Lord
Fermoy, as the new M.P. for Marylebone, had the opportunity of
walking into Wilson, and did so very properly. A bit of personality,
originated by Mr. [Roebuck, touching 1)r. Michell, M.P. for
Bodmin, who retires, as he plainly says, rather than ruin himself by
defending his seat, though he is innocent of bribery, gave some interest
to a dull evening. The House of Commons is intended for Rich Men
■only, or men whose friends are rich, and people who have simply the
incomes of gentlemen have no business there. Our [National Defences
•continued the piece de resistance in the House, as Mr. Punch trusts
they will prove elsewhere at need. The Ministerial White Bait wras
ordered for the following Wednesday.
A CALUMNY ON COOKS.
company of ladies, in which it is his fortune to obtain a moment’s
audience : and he will learn from them that cooks are all avoiders of
strong liquors as carefully as Punch is an eschevrer of weak jokes.
THE LAMENT OE THE SPIDER.
In window and in cornice-nook my filmy net I spread,
Or from the ceiling hang aloft my web of slender thread,
Spun from my. poor inside in vain; no snare can I devise
That longer will afford me prey : I can’t catch any flies.
None are there to be caught, alas!—no luck about the house;
I’m like a cat that’s neither fed, nor yet can find a mouse.
As stingy housewives use their cats, ail mistresses treat me,
E’en when dear lazy serving-maids my works leave besom-free.
This dwelling swarmed throughout with flies a little week ago,
And I and hosts of brothefs hung our meshes high and low;
But now our quarry’s all destroyed; each fly is dead and gone :
My brothers are departed too, and 1 alone live on.
Deprived of game, and so of food, starvation I endure,
’Tis poison that has ruined me—that deadly Papier Moure /
That web—more fatal to the flies than any net of mine—
Was set for them the other day—from which I’ve ceased to dine.
They drank—they flew away—they died—I caught some in their flight.
Woe is me that I tasted them, for since I’ve ne’er been right.
With inward pangs convulsed I writhe, and, if I could, should groan.
From eating flies infected with worse venom than my own.
A plague upon the soaking scrap the spider’s sport which spoils,
Which mocks his patient industry, by frustrating his toils ;
Now is my geometric woof of not the slightest use,
Except to point the cackle of a moralising goose.
Farewell my old, my loved abode, whence, forced by want to roam,
Forth must I go for sustenance, and find another home ;
Where, for there only can I live, there only food procure,
The blessed inmates don’t mind flies, or don’t use Papier Moure.
obriety and honesty do not
commonly in Devonshire
go hand in hand with cook-
ery, however close connec-
tion they may elsewhere
have with it. Such at least
seems the opinion of the
writer of the following,
which a correspondent
sends us from the Western
Times:—
IF there is in Exeter, or
its neighbourhood, a Sober,
Honest, and Respectable PLAIN
COOK, about 35 or 40 years of
age, with a character of stand-
ing, requiring a place, she may
hear something to her advantage,
at No. 227, High Street.
Our correspondent—who
betrays that she belongs to
the fair sex, not merely by
her writing and the softness
of her style, in speaking as
she does of onr “inimitable
paper,” but by using needle
and thread to fix her ex-
tract to her note, — our
correspondent “ trusts that
we shall not imagine ” that the character of Devon cooks has “ fallen to
so low a standard ” as the “perpetrator” of this “absurd advertise-
ment ” believes. In a culinary interest, as well as that of gallantry, we
hasten to allay her apprehensions on this point. Our imagination, we
assure her, is m much too firm control for it ever to run riot in the manner
she so fears it may. In our wildest dreams of fancy we never could
believe in the existence of a cook who was not honest and respectable,
and, above all, sober to a fault. We believe this is the general culinary
rule, and w'e see no cause why Devonshire should form a base excep-
tion to it. We.should as soon think of hearing of a tipsy teetotaller
as of a cook being notorious for a weakness for strong drinks. If the
“ perpetrator ” of the above has any doubt of this, let him consult the
pages of The Greatest Plague of Life, and he will there find the most
ample confirmation of the fact. Or let him moot the point in any
HALF-MEASURES.
The Chancellor of the Exchequer, in asking for a vote of
£10,000 to re-coin the old copper coinage, informed the House that the
“ intrinsic value of the new coins would not be more than half of the
present ones.” We ask the Chancellor of the Exchequer if this
is what he would call turning “ an honest penny ? ”—for every newly-
coined penny, according to this statement, would not be worth more
than the present halfpenny. This is a system of half-price that the
Mint seems to have borrowed from our Theatres. The Chancellor
of the Exchequer should write outside bis door, “Half Prtce
iias Commenced.” This is a new form of taxation, and if for every
penny be receives be only gives back a halfpenny, it is a clear gain of
fifty per cent., and we do not see what necessity there is for the impo-
sition (imposition in every sense) of the Income-Tax. Will the same
reduction be carried out with our silver and gold coinage ? for it
Eromises, if adopted, to be the speediest extinction of the National
<ebt that has ever been hit upon. Putting the revenue down at
£70,000,000, he will be able to apply £35,000,000 of it every year
towards that amiable purpose. We always thought that Mr. Glad-
stone was a first-rate Chancellor of the Exchequer, and now we are
convinced of it. He not only gives us a bright new coin, but saves
the nation sixpence upon every shilling. Mr. Disraeli was not so
good a Chancellor—by one-half.
Things are Much as they “Used to Was.”*
At Milan, the mob flung the Emperor of Austria’s portrait into
the streets. It matters but little about the.copy being turned out, so
long as the original has the power of turning m again. It has not
pleased the Genius of Italy to take Erancis-Joseph off the hooks just
yet. We are afraid that tne shadow of his countenance will be felt all
over Lombardy for several years to come. The Emperor may thank
Louis Napoleon for restoring him to pretty nearly the same place
that he has always occupied. The only relief the poor Italians liave
is, to denounce the restoration as “ a hanging shame.”
* P. Bedford, Esq.
A Hippophagistic Delicacy.—A horse-eating restaurant has.started
a new equine delicacy. It announces on its plate-glass windows,
“Mare’s-Nest Soup Every Day.”