DOI Heft:
February 2, 1861
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16867#0055
February 2, 1861.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
47
THE ASS AND HIS RIDER.
as ted a considerable
number of spirited and
wealthy young gentle-
men as Cornets to
serve in Her Majes-
ty’s Cavalry Regi-
ments. Each young
gentleman .must either
be entitled to immense
wealth, or else be the
son of a father who
will draw a cheque for
any amount to pay for
his outfit, find him in
chargers at from £100
each, and defray his
mess-bills and all the
other expenses which
the usages of his regi-
ment may require him
to contract.
Such is the form of
handbill which, duly
framed and glazed, it
will soon become ne-
cessary to suspend in
the lobbies and boxes
of the operas and thea-
tres, in the principal
club-rooms, and all
other fashionable
places; and also about
the City and in the
Stock Exchange.
The fact is, that to
enter a Cavalry Regi-
ment a youth must be
either actually or pro-
spectively and potentially a millionnaire; that is, if he means to be comfortable in his corps.
Notwithstanding the sumptuary memorandum which the Duke of Cambridge has addressed
to Colonels of Cavalry Regiments, expense and extravagance in those corps continue to be
the order of the day. Young officers unable to keep pace in prodigality with their com-
rades are considered mean; and the regiment soon becomes, not indeed too hot, but too cold,
which is just as bad, and, at any rate, too unpleasant to hold them.
Wanted, therefore, sons of opulent usurers and other wealthy City men to accept Cornetcies
in crack Cavalry Regiments. Wanted also Cavalry Regiments, which young men will enter
principally with the view of serving their country, and not that of faring sumptuously, and
dressing magnificently, and indulging in wasteful debauchery to its honour and glory.
It is a wonder how there can be any light dragoons; for a horse worth £150 odd must
carry a load of wealth on his back. His rider should be a heavy pecuniary swell. Intrin-
sically he may be worth less than his horse. If his purse pride and expensive vanity are
injuring the Army in one of its chief branches, he is worth less than nothing to anybody but
himself. His proper position would be that of officer in a regiment of neither cavalry nor
infantry—not, of foot, but a modification of horse. Cavalry is named from equus caballus ; but
the equus asinus is the animal on which the dandy dragoon would be most suitably mounted.
To coin a popularly intelligible word exactly corresponding to cavalry, would perhaps be
difficult, but the troops in question, donkey-regiments, might be conveniently named the
Mokery. Your dashing young spendthrifts would be just toe right men in the right places,
in which they would distinguish themselves, if the seat of every one of them were the haunch
of a jackass.
And is a lady’s graceful dower,
Endeared alike to cot and tower,
Round which the little Busy Bee
Improves each shining hour,
And gathers honey all the day
From every opening flower,
From every opening flower, flower, flower.
From every opening flower.
How skilfully she builds her cell,
How neat she spreads her whacks.
And labours hard to store it well,
With the sweet food she makes.
With the sweet food she makes.
With the sweet food she makes, makes,
makes,
When rising just as morning breaks,
The dew-drop from the leaf she shakes,
And oft the sleeping moth she wakes,
And diving througn tne flower she takes,
The honey with her fairy rakes,
And in her cell the same she cakes.
Or sports across the silver lakes,
Besides her children, for whose sakes,
How skilfully she builds her cell,
How neat she spreads her wax,
And labours hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.
In works of labour or of skill,
I would be busy too,
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do,
For idle hands to do,
For idle hands to do, do, do,
Things which thereafter they will rue.
When Justice fiercely doth pursue,
Or conscience raises Cry and Hue,
And evil-doers look quite blue,
When Peelers run with loud halloo,
And Magistrates put on the screw,
And then the wretch exclaims, Boo-hoo,
In works of labour or of skill
I wish I’d busied too,
For Satan’s found much mischief still,
For my two hands to do.
There ! Would a Poet get much reputation
for these Variations, which are much better in
their way than most of those built upon tunes.
Would the poetical critics come out, as the
musical critics do, with “Upon Watts’s marble
foundation Buggins has raised a sparkling ala-
baster palace; ” or, “ The old-fashioned Watts
has been brought into new honour by the
etincellant Buggins;” or “We love the old
tune, but we have room in our hearts for the
fairy-like fountains of bird-song which Buggins
has bid start from it.” Mr. Punch has an idea
that Buggin s would have no such luck; the moral
to be deduced from which fact is, that a Musical
Prig is luckier than a Poetical Prig.
THE VARIATION HUMBUG.
There is perhaps more Humbug talked, printed, and practised in reference to Music
than to anything else in the world, except Politics. And of all the musical humbugs
extant it occurs to Mr. Punch that the Variation Humbug is the greatest. This party has
not even the sense to invent a tune for himself, but takes somebody else’s, and starting
therefrom, as an acrobat leaps from a spring board, jumps himself into a musical reputation
on the strength of the other party’s ideas. Mr. Punch wonders what would be thought of a
poet who should try to make himself renown by this kind of thiug—taking a well-known
poem ol a predecessor’s and doing Variations on it after this fashion:—
BUGGINS’S VARIATIONS ON THE BUSY’ BEE.
How doth the Little Busy Bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower,
From every opening flower, flower, flower.
That sparkles in a breezy bower,
And gives its sweetness to the shower,
Exhaling scent of gentle power.
That lasts on kerchief many an hour,
Wanted, a Garibaldi for Cottonopolis.
Manchester Gaol for Debtors, is, (according
to an elaborate and apparently trustworthy report
which has just appeared) a worthy rival of the
prison dens at Naples and elsewhere, recently
thrown open. The unfortunate debtors are stated
to be treated with a brutality—especially as re-
gards the sick—which makes us quite proud of
Manchester. The system of espionage, harsh-
ness, insult, and tyranny, as described by the
complainants, is truly creditable to a city that is
always clamorous about reforms. Mr. Punch
has no evidence on the subject but the state-
ments in i,he papers, but if one quarter of what
is there charged be true, the soouer a Manchester
Garibaldi appears the better for the unhappy
debtors.
An Odd Boot.—Italy has often been com-
pared to a Boot; but, what is still more odd, it
is a Boot that is not without its Gaeta.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
47
THE ASS AND HIS RIDER.
as ted a considerable
number of spirited and
wealthy young gentle-
men as Cornets to
serve in Her Majes-
ty’s Cavalry Regi-
ments. Each young
gentleman .must either
be entitled to immense
wealth, or else be the
son of a father who
will draw a cheque for
any amount to pay for
his outfit, find him in
chargers at from £100
each, and defray his
mess-bills and all the
other expenses which
the usages of his regi-
ment may require him
to contract.
Such is the form of
handbill which, duly
framed and glazed, it
will soon become ne-
cessary to suspend in
the lobbies and boxes
of the operas and thea-
tres, in the principal
club-rooms, and all
other fashionable
places; and also about
the City and in the
Stock Exchange.
The fact is, that to
enter a Cavalry Regi-
ment a youth must be
either actually or pro-
spectively and potentially a millionnaire; that is, if he means to be comfortable in his corps.
Notwithstanding the sumptuary memorandum which the Duke of Cambridge has addressed
to Colonels of Cavalry Regiments, expense and extravagance in those corps continue to be
the order of the day. Young officers unable to keep pace in prodigality with their com-
rades are considered mean; and the regiment soon becomes, not indeed too hot, but too cold,
which is just as bad, and, at any rate, too unpleasant to hold them.
Wanted, therefore, sons of opulent usurers and other wealthy City men to accept Cornetcies
in crack Cavalry Regiments. Wanted also Cavalry Regiments, which young men will enter
principally with the view of serving their country, and not that of faring sumptuously, and
dressing magnificently, and indulging in wasteful debauchery to its honour and glory.
It is a wonder how there can be any light dragoons; for a horse worth £150 odd must
carry a load of wealth on his back. His rider should be a heavy pecuniary swell. Intrin-
sically he may be worth less than his horse. If his purse pride and expensive vanity are
injuring the Army in one of its chief branches, he is worth less than nothing to anybody but
himself. His proper position would be that of officer in a regiment of neither cavalry nor
infantry—not, of foot, but a modification of horse. Cavalry is named from equus caballus ; but
the equus asinus is the animal on which the dandy dragoon would be most suitably mounted.
To coin a popularly intelligible word exactly corresponding to cavalry, would perhaps be
difficult, but the troops in question, donkey-regiments, might be conveniently named the
Mokery. Your dashing young spendthrifts would be just toe right men in the right places,
in which they would distinguish themselves, if the seat of every one of them were the haunch
of a jackass.
And is a lady’s graceful dower,
Endeared alike to cot and tower,
Round which the little Busy Bee
Improves each shining hour,
And gathers honey all the day
From every opening flower,
From every opening flower, flower, flower.
From every opening flower.
How skilfully she builds her cell,
How neat she spreads her whacks.
And labours hard to store it well,
With the sweet food she makes.
With the sweet food she makes.
With the sweet food she makes, makes,
makes,
When rising just as morning breaks,
The dew-drop from the leaf she shakes,
And oft the sleeping moth she wakes,
And diving througn tne flower she takes,
The honey with her fairy rakes,
And in her cell the same she cakes.
Or sports across the silver lakes,
Besides her children, for whose sakes,
How skilfully she builds her cell,
How neat she spreads her wax,
And labours hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.
In works of labour or of skill,
I would be busy too,
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do,
For idle hands to do,
For idle hands to do, do, do,
Things which thereafter they will rue.
When Justice fiercely doth pursue,
Or conscience raises Cry and Hue,
And evil-doers look quite blue,
When Peelers run with loud halloo,
And Magistrates put on the screw,
And then the wretch exclaims, Boo-hoo,
In works of labour or of skill
I wish I’d busied too,
For Satan’s found much mischief still,
For my two hands to do.
There ! Would a Poet get much reputation
for these Variations, which are much better in
their way than most of those built upon tunes.
Would the poetical critics come out, as the
musical critics do, with “Upon Watts’s marble
foundation Buggins has raised a sparkling ala-
baster palace; ” or, “ The old-fashioned Watts
has been brought into new honour by the
etincellant Buggins;” or “We love the old
tune, but we have room in our hearts for the
fairy-like fountains of bird-song which Buggins
has bid start from it.” Mr. Punch has an idea
that Buggin s would have no such luck; the moral
to be deduced from which fact is, that a Musical
Prig is luckier than a Poetical Prig.
THE VARIATION HUMBUG.
There is perhaps more Humbug talked, printed, and practised in reference to Music
than to anything else in the world, except Politics. And of all the musical humbugs
extant it occurs to Mr. Punch that the Variation Humbug is the greatest. This party has
not even the sense to invent a tune for himself, but takes somebody else’s, and starting
therefrom, as an acrobat leaps from a spring board, jumps himself into a musical reputation
on the strength of the other party’s ideas. Mr. Punch wonders what would be thought of a
poet who should try to make himself renown by this kind of thiug—taking a well-known
poem ol a predecessor’s and doing Variations on it after this fashion:—
BUGGINS’S VARIATIONS ON THE BUSY’ BEE.
How doth the Little Busy Bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower,
From every opening flower, flower, flower.
That sparkles in a breezy bower,
And gives its sweetness to the shower,
Exhaling scent of gentle power.
That lasts on kerchief many an hour,
Wanted, a Garibaldi for Cottonopolis.
Manchester Gaol for Debtors, is, (according
to an elaborate and apparently trustworthy report
which has just appeared) a worthy rival of the
prison dens at Naples and elsewhere, recently
thrown open. The unfortunate debtors are stated
to be treated with a brutality—especially as re-
gards the sick—which makes us quite proud of
Manchester. The system of espionage, harsh-
ness, insult, and tyranny, as described by the
complainants, is truly creditable to a city that is
always clamorous about reforms. Mr. Punch
has no evidence on the subject but the state-
ments in i,he papers, but if one quarter of what
is there charged be true, the soouer a Manchester
Garibaldi appears the better for the unhappy
debtors.
An Odd Boot.—Italy has often been com-
pared to a Boot; but, what is still more odd, it
is a Boot that is not without its Gaeta.