DOI issue:
June 8, 1861
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16867#0239
June 8, 1861.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
231
KETTLEDRUM! KETTLEDRUM!! KETTLEDRUM!!!
Well, Polly did put the kettle on nicely, and you have all got your tea with
silver spoons in it, and now tip up. Mr. Punch claims his money boldly. All the
humbugs who send private tips now advertise that “they sent nothing but Kettle-
drum,” but it is an impudent falsehood, my bloaters, not one of them did anything
of the sort, and the fools who trusted in these canting swine are now weeping and
wailing, while you, my bloaters, are standing on the topmost ridge of exultation
and gazing down contemptuously upon the victimisation of imbecility. Well, but
do not be bumptious. Punch did it all, “ fortune had no share in this,” as Helioga-
balus said when he swallowed the live lamprey whole, and you must not be proud.
Even in the hour of triumph, Mr. Punch had a kindly look for the bonnie Dundee,
IGHT I Much there is to boast of in that! Eight! Why, my con-
gratulatory bloaters, Punch simply used his illimitable intellect,
looked over the Horses, and calmly selected the winner as unhesi-
tatingly as he would take the biggest strawberry out of a plate held
to him by the fair hS,nds of beauty. Eight ? Come, don’t begin pour-
ing out your antibilious eulogies, just because he didn’t imitate all the
clumsy Prophets, pseudonymous, anonymous, and anodynomenous,
who made their ridiculous guesses in print, or gent them in dirty
envelopes, and scarcely dared to say, plump, that anyparticular horse
would win, but sneakingly hinted that three had good chances, that
three more would make cockboats, and that three others had uncom-
monly excellent qualities; and then these blessed humbugs were
wroDg on all nine chances. Call that prophesying ?—why, 1)r. Hum-
ming, the pet vatieinator of Exeter Hall, can do better than that. He
is man enough to say that the world will come to an end one of these
days, if it doesn’t last longer. Bah, boh, bee, as Panurge says. By
the pavilion of Mars, Mr. Punch hates nothing so much as humbug.
He knew who was going to win, and he proclaimed the fact eight
hours before the race, and for fear of mistake published his pro-
phecy in the Times newspaper on the Derby morning. He admits
that he thereby destroyed all interest in the race, and like Thomas the
Ehymer he is gifted with the inconvenient faculty of always speaking
the truth, aud is thereby made disagreeable in Society and among the
ladies, but what can he do. Genius cannot be snuffed out, and he
could no more help penning this preternatural paragraph, than the
Poet Close can help writing doggerel. What said Mr. Punch ?
“ KETTLEDRUM’S godfathers and godmother were bold
SPONSORS, SEEING THAT A KETTLEDRUM is'MEANT TO BE BEAT; BUT
if Polly puts that kettle on nicely, we may all have tea
WITH SILVER SPOONS IN IT, AND WOULDN’T THAT BE A PRETTY KETTLE
OF FISH, MY BLOATERS? HUSH-A-BYE, BABY, YOUR CRADLE IS GREEN,
father’s a nobleman; mother’s a queen, sister’s a lady and wears
A GOLD KING, BROTHER’S A DRUMMER, AND DRUMS FOR THE KING.”
who came in so gamely on his game leg, despite his mischance, and deserved the
laurel it was not his to gain. Now, tip up, and send in your winnings, for Punch
cannot be putting on extra steam for nothing, and be has several hundreds of pairs
of gloves, voluntarily lost, to pay to various exquisite and darling Beings who called
him to their carriages to prevent Destruction of Tissue, forgetting, the dear ones,
that they were all the time destroying the tissue of his susceptible heart. There-
fore, bloaters, once more, tip up, and Mr. Punch, drinking to you all, hopes many
a time and oft to pilot you again over the white waves of irresolution into the bland
and smiling harbour of prosperity and glory. Tip up !
PUNCH, The only Correct Prophet.
THE RAGGED CLERGY.
The Protestant Association, apparently, is unaware of the fact that
an order of mendicants exists in the Church of England. The abo-
lition of this fraternity is an object much rather to be desired by
Exeter Hall than the suppression of the Franciscans, or any other
community of begging friars maintained in the Church of Rome.
Voluntary mendicity may be a mistake; but involuntary mendicity is
disgraceful to the hierarchy by which it is permitted, if that hierarchy
is rolling in wealth. Now the mendicity existent in the Established
Church is involuntary. The Anglican mendicants comprise numerous
Clergymen who hold small livings, and all, or nearly all, the Curates
without private property, or any income beyond their stipends whereon
to subsist. They are chargeable not only with involuntary begging,
but also with the worse than Popish practice of fasting against
their will.
As the readers of this popular periodical are continually increasing,
it is expedient for Mr. Punch to state from time to time that there is
in being, and in active operation, an Association organised to relieve
destitute Clergymen—the Clerical Fund and Poor Clergy Relief
Society, 32, Southampton Street, Strand, W.C. And, with an affirma-
tion that he is not joking. Punch has further to inform his subscribers,
who may also be disposed to subscribe to that Society, that the
material relief which it is accustomed to administer to clerical destitu-
tion consists, in a very considerable measure, of old clothes. The
Society is open to receive donations of cast-off canonicals and other
apparel, which are thankfully accepted by Divines out at elbows.
The Rev. W. G. Jervis, Secretary to the above-named Association,
nas published a letter addressed to him by a Country Curate, and con-
taming a description of the writer’s circumstances, which, Mr. Jervis
says, represents exactly the state wherein Curates live. The Country
Curate is the factotum of a non-resident Rector. He is nearly sixty
years old, and has little more than £90 a-year. To eke out his income
lie is compelled to have recourse to charity. During the last ten years
ne has never, but twice or thrice, been able to afford to ask a friend to
dine with him. He has not the means to take out his family for an
occasional change of that air which is almost all they have to live upon,
.rood tor the mind, also, is so much too dear for him that he cannot
even belong; to a book-club. He and his family are forced to go with-
out medical aid when they are ill, except in case of extreme danger,
and then he pays his doctor’s bill by instalments. If Timothy had
been so badly off, he never could have taken the prescription of Paul.
“ Wine,” says the Country Curate, “ is altogether out of the question,
and of late, to save the expense’’—mark this, you journeymen carpen-
ters, painters, plumbers and glaziers, and bricklayers, discontented
with your work and wages—
“ I have even had to give up malt liquor entirely.”
What do you think of a journeyman parson, nigh sixty years of age«
obliged to deny himself beer?
Not only have the Country Curate and his family nothing better to
drink than slops, but they have nothing else to wear. For years he
has been in the habit of buying second-hand clothing, “ even to hats
and shoes.” Any Dean or Bishop, whose feet may have been enlarged
by the gout, would no doubt do a welcome thing to this poor clergy-
man, by sending him the shoes that are now too small for them. The
bishopric of Durham is a fat one ; the occupant of that see may happily
not be affected wit h hypertrophy of the lower extremities, and there-
fore may have no tight shoes to give away; but he might show forth
the fruits of good living to the succour of this Curate, and many other
famishing Curates, by the exercise of an economy short of Cheese-
paring.
The richer Clergy generally, as well as the laity, are invited to con-
tribute both money and raiment to the Society established at 32,
Southampton Street, Strand. Old clothes may be sent by all parties
in the Church. A ragged Anglo-Catholic Curate would probably not
in the least object to wear an Evangelical white choker, and as little
would one of the Low Church school decline the present of an M. B.
waistcoat.
French Freemasonry.
In front of the Freemasons’ Lodge in the Rue Cadet was posted,
the other day, the annexed notice :—
“ By order of the Prefect of Police, all meetings of the Grand Orient are for-
bidden. The Assembly of the Grand Orient is adjourned to the month of October.”
In France it would seem that Freemasons exist in the enjoyment of
French freedom.
• ---
Tee most Important Order op the Day.—What to order for dinner*
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
231
KETTLEDRUM! KETTLEDRUM!! KETTLEDRUM!!!
Well, Polly did put the kettle on nicely, and you have all got your tea with
silver spoons in it, and now tip up. Mr. Punch claims his money boldly. All the
humbugs who send private tips now advertise that “they sent nothing but Kettle-
drum,” but it is an impudent falsehood, my bloaters, not one of them did anything
of the sort, and the fools who trusted in these canting swine are now weeping and
wailing, while you, my bloaters, are standing on the topmost ridge of exultation
and gazing down contemptuously upon the victimisation of imbecility. Well, but
do not be bumptious. Punch did it all, “ fortune had no share in this,” as Helioga-
balus said when he swallowed the live lamprey whole, and you must not be proud.
Even in the hour of triumph, Mr. Punch had a kindly look for the bonnie Dundee,
IGHT I Much there is to boast of in that! Eight! Why, my con-
gratulatory bloaters, Punch simply used his illimitable intellect,
looked over the Horses, and calmly selected the winner as unhesi-
tatingly as he would take the biggest strawberry out of a plate held
to him by the fair hS,nds of beauty. Eight ? Come, don’t begin pour-
ing out your antibilious eulogies, just because he didn’t imitate all the
clumsy Prophets, pseudonymous, anonymous, and anodynomenous,
who made their ridiculous guesses in print, or gent them in dirty
envelopes, and scarcely dared to say, plump, that anyparticular horse
would win, but sneakingly hinted that three had good chances, that
three more would make cockboats, and that three others had uncom-
monly excellent qualities; and then these blessed humbugs were
wroDg on all nine chances. Call that prophesying ?—why, 1)r. Hum-
ming, the pet vatieinator of Exeter Hall, can do better than that. He
is man enough to say that the world will come to an end one of these
days, if it doesn’t last longer. Bah, boh, bee, as Panurge says. By
the pavilion of Mars, Mr. Punch hates nothing so much as humbug.
He knew who was going to win, and he proclaimed the fact eight
hours before the race, and for fear of mistake published his pro-
phecy in the Times newspaper on the Derby morning. He admits
that he thereby destroyed all interest in the race, and like Thomas the
Ehymer he is gifted with the inconvenient faculty of always speaking
the truth, aud is thereby made disagreeable in Society and among the
ladies, but what can he do. Genius cannot be snuffed out, and he
could no more help penning this preternatural paragraph, than the
Poet Close can help writing doggerel. What said Mr. Punch ?
“ KETTLEDRUM’S godfathers and godmother were bold
SPONSORS, SEEING THAT A KETTLEDRUM is'MEANT TO BE BEAT; BUT
if Polly puts that kettle on nicely, we may all have tea
WITH SILVER SPOONS IN IT, AND WOULDN’T THAT BE A PRETTY KETTLE
OF FISH, MY BLOATERS? HUSH-A-BYE, BABY, YOUR CRADLE IS GREEN,
father’s a nobleman; mother’s a queen, sister’s a lady and wears
A GOLD KING, BROTHER’S A DRUMMER, AND DRUMS FOR THE KING.”
who came in so gamely on his game leg, despite his mischance, and deserved the
laurel it was not his to gain. Now, tip up, and send in your winnings, for Punch
cannot be putting on extra steam for nothing, and be has several hundreds of pairs
of gloves, voluntarily lost, to pay to various exquisite and darling Beings who called
him to their carriages to prevent Destruction of Tissue, forgetting, the dear ones,
that they were all the time destroying the tissue of his susceptible heart. There-
fore, bloaters, once more, tip up, and Mr. Punch, drinking to you all, hopes many
a time and oft to pilot you again over the white waves of irresolution into the bland
and smiling harbour of prosperity and glory. Tip up !
PUNCH, The only Correct Prophet.
THE RAGGED CLERGY.
The Protestant Association, apparently, is unaware of the fact that
an order of mendicants exists in the Church of England. The abo-
lition of this fraternity is an object much rather to be desired by
Exeter Hall than the suppression of the Franciscans, or any other
community of begging friars maintained in the Church of Rome.
Voluntary mendicity may be a mistake; but involuntary mendicity is
disgraceful to the hierarchy by which it is permitted, if that hierarchy
is rolling in wealth. Now the mendicity existent in the Established
Church is involuntary. The Anglican mendicants comprise numerous
Clergymen who hold small livings, and all, or nearly all, the Curates
without private property, or any income beyond their stipends whereon
to subsist. They are chargeable not only with involuntary begging,
but also with the worse than Popish practice of fasting against
their will.
As the readers of this popular periodical are continually increasing,
it is expedient for Mr. Punch to state from time to time that there is
in being, and in active operation, an Association organised to relieve
destitute Clergymen—the Clerical Fund and Poor Clergy Relief
Society, 32, Southampton Street, Strand, W.C. And, with an affirma-
tion that he is not joking. Punch has further to inform his subscribers,
who may also be disposed to subscribe to that Society, that the
material relief which it is accustomed to administer to clerical destitu-
tion consists, in a very considerable measure, of old clothes. The
Society is open to receive donations of cast-off canonicals and other
apparel, which are thankfully accepted by Divines out at elbows.
The Rev. W. G. Jervis, Secretary to the above-named Association,
nas published a letter addressed to him by a Country Curate, and con-
taming a description of the writer’s circumstances, which, Mr. Jervis
says, represents exactly the state wherein Curates live. The Country
Curate is the factotum of a non-resident Rector. He is nearly sixty
years old, and has little more than £90 a-year. To eke out his income
lie is compelled to have recourse to charity. During the last ten years
ne has never, but twice or thrice, been able to afford to ask a friend to
dine with him. He has not the means to take out his family for an
occasional change of that air which is almost all they have to live upon,
.rood tor the mind, also, is so much too dear for him that he cannot
even belong; to a book-club. He and his family are forced to go with-
out medical aid when they are ill, except in case of extreme danger,
and then he pays his doctor’s bill by instalments. If Timothy had
been so badly off, he never could have taken the prescription of Paul.
“ Wine,” says the Country Curate, “ is altogether out of the question,
and of late, to save the expense’’—mark this, you journeymen carpen-
ters, painters, plumbers and glaziers, and bricklayers, discontented
with your work and wages—
“ I have even had to give up malt liquor entirely.”
What do you think of a journeyman parson, nigh sixty years of age«
obliged to deny himself beer?
Not only have the Country Curate and his family nothing better to
drink than slops, but they have nothing else to wear. For years he
has been in the habit of buying second-hand clothing, “ even to hats
and shoes.” Any Dean or Bishop, whose feet may have been enlarged
by the gout, would no doubt do a welcome thing to this poor clergy-
man, by sending him the shoes that are now too small for them. The
bishopric of Durham is a fat one ; the occupant of that see may happily
not be affected wit h hypertrophy of the lower extremities, and there-
fore may have no tight shoes to give away; but he might show forth
the fruits of good living to the succour of this Curate, and many other
famishing Curates, by the exercise of an economy short of Cheese-
paring.
The richer Clergy generally, as well as the laity, are invited to con-
tribute both money and raiment to the Society established at 32,
Southampton Street, Strand. Old clothes may be sent by all parties
in the Church. A ragged Anglo-Catholic Curate would probably not
in the least object to wear an Evangelical white choker, and as little
would one of the Low Church school decline the present of an M. B.
waistcoat.
French Freemasonry.
In front of the Freemasons’ Lodge in the Rue Cadet was posted,
the other day, the annexed notice :—
“ By order of the Prefect of Police, all meetings of the Grand Orient are for-
bidden. The Assembly of the Grand Orient is adjourned to the month of October.”
In France it would seem that Freemasons exist in the enjoyment of
French freedom.
• ---
Tee most Important Order op the Day.—What to order for dinner*