DOI Heft:
August 27, 1859
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16864#0094
Atm-rt is’-M PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 83
AN EPICUREAN IN AN ASYLUM.
At Earlswood, near Redhill, there is an Asylum for
Idiots; a place to which the benevolent reader doubt-
less thinks that competent authority ought to send some
of his acquaintance. The idea of such an institution
which most people entertain is, that it is simply a place of j
comfortable confinement; but from an account of a “ Visit j
to Earlswood,” by the Rev. Edwin Sidney, it appears that
the asylum there situated is also an abode for the educa-
tion and instruction of the weak and limited intellect.
Thereat is practised, with considerable success, a plan for
making the most of the little mind possessed by the im-
becile; of expanding the contracted understanding, so to
speak, or of blowing the faint spark of mind into as great
a blaze as possible. The instances of the improvement thus
effected, as related by Mr. Sidney', _ are very interesting.
Among them may be cited the subjoined. In the basket-
room, where the pupils are taught to make baskets of
wicker-work, he says :—
“ Here,'wo asked a diligent little fellow which he liked best, being
there or at home. ‘ Happier here,’ said he. ‘Why?’ was the next
question, and the answer was, ‘Have more to eat, and nobody teases
me.’ ”
This lad may, and we suppose must, have been an idiot
once; but surely be now no longer deserves that appella-
tion, but a very different one. What ordinary schoolboy,
questioned about happiness, could have expressed his sen-
timents on that subject better, or would have had any
other, at least any other more elevated, sentiments to
express ? A wiser reply could not be expected from the
collective wisdom of the City of London, the Aldermen
and Common-Councilmen in Court assembled. Many a
man who moves in high society, instead of being associated
with idiots; whose club constitutes the asylum to which
he retires, and who thinks himself, perhaps with justice, a
sensible fellow, would, if asked why he preferred that
asylum to home, answer exactly in the spirit, and nearly
in the words, of the above terse and pithy speech from
the month of an idiot boy, elevated, by the system of
mental culture practised at the Earlswood establish-
ment, into a philosopher. .
Mr. Bouncer, having asserted that he had taken a “Moor," receives a few empty Hampers
as reminders from his friends. How TO KEEP Eood ON A Weak Stomach— Bolt it down.
HOW WE SPEND OUR SUNDAYS.
Wiiat a mistake it is for foreigners to find fault, as they do, with
our observance of the Sabbath. They say that Sunday, as we keep it,
is the dullest day on earth,—a day which tempts to suicide as a way of
killing time. Triste people as we are, we never are so triste as we
always are on Sundays. All we do on Sunday is, to go to church, and
dine, and go to church, and go to bed. Other occupations we have
nationally none, excepting when we cut our throats for the mere sake
of amusement.
Of course every English reader knows how false are these impressions,
but it is not every Englishman who knows the full extent of our enjoy-
ment of our Sundays; and though ignorance in this may individually
be bliss, it is nationally advisable to struggle for enlightenment. A
case which came on at the Mansion House a day or two ago, throws a
policeman’s bull’s eye light on our observance of the Sabbath; and
those who are in the dark perhaps the flash may somewhat startle.
| Foreigners who ask how we amuse ourselves on Sunday, should listen
to the evidence of Policeman Six-One-Six:—
“ I was in Houndsditch, and I lieard a row, and upon going to Fireball Court I
found the inhabitants, according to their usual practice on Sunday evenings, fighting
by dozens together like cats and dogs, and tumbling over one another. It is dread-
ful to witness such scenes as take place there, and the prisoner was the worst of the
set. He was laying about him with his crutch, and it was the second time he had
been fighting that night, so I took him into custody.”
Tumbling, getting drunk, and fighting like a lot of cats and dogs>
these are now our “usual” Sunday evening practices. This is how on
Sundays we amuse ourselves at Court,—that is to say, at Fireball
Court; and we have many more such Fireballs. Moreover, mark,
O Foreigner, these Sunday occupations are not illicit pleasures. They
are sanctioned by our law, and only in extreme cases are they stopped
by the Police. Mark the logic in the evidence of Policeman Six-One-
Sjx: “ It was the second time the prisoner had been fighting that
night, so [observe the ‘ so ’ ] I took him into custody.” One scrim-
] mage per night, then, is the legalised allowance. Anything beyond it
is a breaking of the Sabbath, and put down as an excess.
But Punch has no cause to complain of Policeman Six-One-Six. As
he had been taught it, lie doubtless did his duty. The question is,
however, are the nation doing theirs ? Might not something more be
done to stop the “usual practice” of fighting upon Sundays than
simply stopping would-be combatants from indulging in it twice ?
Might not other occupations be publicly devised for Sunday afternoons,
which would in some measure prevent these “usual ” eveuing practices ?
For instance, would it not be wrell to try the effect of opening harmless
places of amusement, by which those not quite so innocuous might be
possibly shut up ? The pastime of inspecting, say, the Crystal ^Palace
Courts, would be surely a not more harmful amusement for a Sunday
than the legalised amusement of street tumbling and fighting, which
are the “usual” recreations in such courts as Fireball Court.
Judex Eamnatur,
(A Trifle from the Western Circuit.)
“ Grace ! ” cried my Lord, with furious face,
“ What nonsense ! What the deuce has grace
To do with things below ? ”
If Damwell, like a judge of yore,
Would go to Church a little more,
It’s possible he’d know.
A Pew-Opener.
LIBERAL TO A FAULT.
The Liberals are twitted by the lories with the fact that their
Members were in a majority among those unseated by election petitions
for bribery and corruption. As if—says the free and independent but .
purchased elector—there were anything in paying handsomely for a
vote inconsistent with the most extreme liberality !
6ST Mr. Punch begs to acknowledge from Baron Bramwell the
receipt of the First Half of a Conundrum, marked “Original,”
which he will be happy to print upon the receipt of the other Hall.
AN EPICUREAN IN AN ASYLUM.
At Earlswood, near Redhill, there is an Asylum for
Idiots; a place to which the benevolent reader doubt-
less thinks that competent authority ought to send some
of his acquaintance. The idea of such an institution
which most people entertain is, that it is simply a place of j
comfortable confinement; but from an account of a “ Visit j
to Earlswood,” by the Rev. Edwin Sidney, it appears that
the asylum there situated is also an abode for the educa-
tion and instruction of the weak and limited intellect.
Thereat is practised, with considerable success, a plan for
making the most of the little mind possessed by the im-
becile; of expanding the contracted understanding, so to
speak, or of blowing the faint spark of mind into as great
a blaze as possible. The instances of the improvement thus
effected, as related by Mr. Sidney', _ are very interesting.
Among them may be cited the subjoined. In the basket-
room, where the pupils are taught to make baskets of
wicker-work, he says :—
“ Here,'wo asked a diligent little fellow which he liked best, being
there or at home. ‘ Happier here,’ said he. ‘Why?’ was the next
question, and the answer was, ‘Have more to eat, and nobody teases
me.’ ”
This lad may, and we suppose must, have been an idiot
once; but surely be now no longer deserves that appella-
tion, but a very different one. What ordinary schoolboy,
questioned about happiness, could have expressed his sen-
timents on that subject better, or would have had any
other, at least any other more elevated, sentiments to
express ? A wiser reply could not be expected from the
collective wisdom of the City of London, the Aldermen
and Common-Councilmen in Court assembled. Many a
man who moves in high society, instead of being associated
with idiots; whose club constitutes the asylum to which
he retires, and who thinks himself, perhaps with justice, a
sensible fellow, would, if asked why he preferred that
asylum to home, answer exactly in the spirit, and nearly
in the words, of the above terse and pithy speech from
the month of an idiot boy, elevated, by the system of
mental culture practised at the Earlswood establish-
ment, into a philosopher. .
Mr. Bouncer, having asserted that he had taken a “Moor," receives a few empty Hampers
as reminders from his friends. How TO KEEP Eood ON A Weak Stomach— Bolt it down.
HOW WE SPEND OUR SUNDAYS.
Wiiat a mistake it is for foreigners to find fault, as they do, with
our observance of the Sabbath. They say that Sunday, as we keep it,
is the dullest day on earth,—a day which tempts to suicide as a way of
killing time. Triste people as we are, we never are so triste as we
always are on Sundays. All we do on Sunday is, to go to church, and
dine, and go to church, and go to bed. Other occupations we have
nationally none, excepting when we cut our throats for the mere sake
of amusement.
Of course every English reader knows how false are these impressions,
but it is not every Englishman who knows the full extent of our enjoy-
ment of our Sundays; and though ignorance in this may individually
be bliss, it is nationally advisable to struggle for enlightenment. A
case which came on at the Mansion House a day or two ago, throws a
policeman’s bull’s eye light on our observance of the Sabbath; and
those who are in the dark perhaps the flash may somewhat startle.
| Foreigners who ask how we amuse ourselves on Sunday, should listen
to the evidence of Policeman Six-One-Six:—
“ I was in Houndsditch, and I lieard a row, and upon going to Fireball Court I
found the inhabitants, according to their usual practice on Sunday evenings, fighting
by dozens together like cats and dogs, and tumbling over one another. It is dread-
ful to witness such scenes as take place there, and the prisoner was the worst of the
set. He was laying about him with his crutch, and it was the second time he had
been fighting that night, so I took him into custody.”
Tumbling, getting drunk, and fighting like a lot of cats and dogs>
these are now our “usual” Sunday evening practices. This is how on
Sundays we amuse ourselves at Court,—that is to say, at Fireball
Court; and we have many more such Fireballs. Moreover, mark,
O Foreigner, these Sunday occupations are not illicit pleasures. They
are sanctioned by our law, and only in extreme cases are they stopped
by the Police. Mark the logic in the evidence of Policeman Six-One-
Sjx: “ It was the second time the prisoner had been fighting that
night, so [observe the ‘ so ’ ] I took him into custody.” One scrim-
] mage per night, then, is the legalised allowance. Anything beyond it
is a breaking of the Sabbath, and put down as an excess.
But Punch has no cause to complain of Policeman Six-One-Six. As
he had been taught it, lie doubtless did his duty. The question is,
however, are the nation doing theirs ? Might not something more be
done to stop the “usual practice” of fighting upon Sundays than
simply stopping would-be combatants from indulging in it twice ?
Might not other occupations be publicly devised for Sunday afternoons,
which would in some measure prevent these “usual ” eveuing practices ?
For instance, would it not be wrell to try the effect of opening harmless
places of amusement, by which those not quite so innocuous might be
possibly shut up ? The pastime of inspecting, say, the Crystal ^Palace
Courts, would be surely a not more harmful amusement for a Sunday
than the legalised amusement of street tumbling and fighting, which
are the “usual” recreations in such courts as Fireball Court.
Judex Eamnatur,
(A Trifle from the Western Circuit.)
“ Grace ! ” cried my Lord, with furious face,
“ What nonsense ! What the deuce has grace
To do with things below ? ”
If Damwell, like a judge of yore,
Would go to Church a little more,
It’s possible he’d know.
A Pew-Opener.
LIBERAL TO A FAULT.
The Liberals are twitted by the lories with the fact that their
Members were in a majority among those unseated by election petitions
for bribery and corruption. As if—says the free and independent but .
purchased elector—there were anything in paying handsomely for a
vote inconsistent with the most extreme liberality !
6ST Mr. Punch begs to acknowledge from Baron Bramwell the
receipt of the First Half of a Conundrum, marked “Original,”
which he will be happy to print upon the receipt of the other Hall.