DOI issue:
December 5, 1863
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16872#0242
December 5. 1663.1
PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
231
on May-day. How would you have liked it-, yourself, when you used to
lead the whole University on Smoke-Jack? Fancy riding gaily at a
fence and never finding out a wire had been placed just four feet beyond
it till you got up with a very confused notion of locality, a broken
collar-bone, a crushed hat, and poor Smoke-Jack on three legs for the
rest of the season. Manyagood fellowraay be dangerously hurt, and many
a gallant horse cruelly mauled, though I think in my heart, from what I
observed last night, that come wpat may, “ they won't get Sparkles !”
I remain, dear Mr. Punch, with the utmost respect, your old and
attached friend, Lucius Lambswool.
THE GAME OF NOVICE IN MARGARET STREET.
onoria, Dearest,—Now croquet is over
for the season, there is no game that I
know of to beat that of Roman Catholics.
You must enjoy it much at Claydon with
such capital players as Mr. Drury and
Father Ignatius, and the other Monks
who perform Monks’ tricks so cleverly in
the Church. We had a capital game here the other day, at All Saints,
Margaret Street—played at Nuns—Emily took the white veil and
vows for n year. It was so nice; all in church: the altar all decked
out with flowers, and covered with white satin, and the postulant also
in white, dressed as a bride, in a lovely wedding-dress, orange flowers
and everything complete; and what with a little artificial colour in her
cheeks, which would otherwise have been rather too pale, she looked
so pretty—as we all said, “ beautiful for ever.”
Well, and then you know the candles on the altar were lighted, and
the service performed quite like a real mass—nobody but a regular
Roman Catholic could have told the difference, and the Cardinal
Inmself would have been some time in finding it out. And so then
Emily was questioned, and had to say that she was going to take the
vows of her own free will; and then she took them for a year; and the
Sisters all said, “ Bless thee, Sister Ursula ! ” and that, wicked wretch,
Bob Villiebs, who was asked, whispered close behind me, “ Bless thee,
thou art translated!” And then Ursula, that is Emily that was,
curtsied to the Lady Superior, and to the Father who performed the
service, and a splendid Father our Clergyman made. Just then, while
the choir was singiDg Jubilate, we were so frightened by an idle school-
boy who poked his head in at the door, and cried out—“ Cavy ! the
Bishop’s coming.” When the ceremony was all over, we went to
breakfast; a regular wedding breakfast, you know, bridecake and
everything; and I kept a bit of the cake and put it under my pillow,
and dreamt of kissing the Pope’s toe. We had such fun; pulled
crackers with the Father with Church mottoes enclosed; so good, some
of them, and Yilliers was so agreeable, but made himself such a
goose. ELe said he must kiss the bridemaids—and did 1 And what
do you think ! He advised me to work the Father a pair of slippers
inlaid with glass beads inside the soles, and to embroider him a hair
shirt. The creature suggested that we might fiud the materials off
our own heads.
Everything went off so nicely. Emily’s friends are in mourning
for her, as she is supposed to be dead to the world; her sisters look
well in black. The nunnery she goes into is attached to the Church,
and as much as possible like a real one I believe in discipline, whipping
and all. If Emily finds all this too much of a joke, she can give it up
at the end of the year.
For further particulars see the Western Morning News. Write soon,
and be sure you tell me all about dear Father Ignatius. I wonder it
he will really keep his vows of celibacy f That dreadful Villiers. says
that perhaps Puseyism in sport will become Popery in earnest. What
a shame of him ! Believe me, dearest, ever yours,
Belgravia, December, 1863. Ethel.
P.S. He has just called, in a white hat with black crape round it—
says it is for Emily, and calls it butcher’s mourning.
A MOTHER ON SMOKE.
Dear Mr. Punch,
1 am very partial to country newspapers, and I believe that
most women are. lou see nothing in the Loudon papers except politics,
a.nd long trials, and bursting Armstrong guns, and quarrelling about
drainage. But in a good country paper you get column after column of
real news, nice little stories, and such information about the Queen and
the 1 rincesses and other great people as you never can find in London
newspapers. I would sooner go without all of them than my own
county journal, which my sister sends me up weekly in exchange for
my Punch.
Well, in this week’s county paper, I find this, Mr. Punch:—
Smoking Now-a-Days.—A Young Thief.—Thomas Jones, of Oswestry, a boy
eleven years of age, was charged with stealing seven ounces of tobacco, the property
of the Great Western Railway Company. A policeman testified to finding the
tobacco upon him, and it seems that he stole it to smoke with another boy. He
pleaded guilty. Sentenced to be confined for the remainder of the day and once
whipped with nine strokes of a birch rod.”
Now, Mr. Punch, I dare say that if I had been on the bench of justice,
as they call it, I should have_ given this bad boy a good scolding, and lei
him off, for I see that, he cried, and said he would not do it agaiu. I
am sure I should, in fact, if the stealing a little tobacco, which I dare
say was going to the shop of some cheating cigar-seller, had been the
only thing. If he had stoleu it to give ir, to his father or somebody
else, I could not have allowed him t,o be much puuished, though of
course I am not defending stealing, and I would certainly have had
him locked up for the rest of the day, and let him have nothing but
cold meat ami a very little beer for his dinuer. But he stole the nasty
tobacco to smoke it, and now that the affair is all over, and as I did
uot know that he was going to be whipped, I think I am glad of it,
though I hope he was not much hurt, it is perfectly shocking, Mr.
Punch, to see children of eleven, twelve, fourteen, and sixteen smoking
away at pipes and cigars as they do. When 1 see them in the street I
feel inclined to snatch away the tobacco, and throw ir, into the gutter
and say, “You little wretch, how dare yon ruin your health and stint
your growth in that way ? ” The doctors agree that though tobacco may
not do a grown-up man much harm (it only makes him a pig, and I wish
yon could see the Utrecht velvet of my dining-room chairs after my
husband and a friend or two have had a smoky evening—and then the
price of cigars is perfectly wicked), it is most deleterious to young per-
sons, and the use of it ought to be put down by law. I am not at all
sure that the same punishment that Master Thomas Jones received
would not be a very good thing for any little boy smoking, and as for the
bigger ones, they should be shut up to do the most severe Impositions.
1 wish you would take up the subject, and prevent the rising generation
from being a stunted, sickly, sallow, surly, cigar-sucking set of stupids.
I am, dear Mr. Punch, your devoted admirer,
Brompton Square. An Anxious Mother.
P.S. I quite approve of the notice which Her Majesty has caused to
be stuck up in Windsor Castle.
THE WIND DID IT.
Mr. Punch stated, the other day, iu conversation with his friend the
Emperor Napoleon, that as to the Japanese affair Earl Russell had
an explanation to offer which would be quite satisfactory to all persons
without, prejudice. Lord Clarence Paget has since been permitted
to make this explanation, and anything more entirely satisfactory can
hardly he conceived. It is “ the sweetest thing out.” We were
obliged to bombard Prince Satsuma, in sheer self-defence, for he had
fired ou us while inoffensively stealing his steamboats. We bombarded
accordingly, meaning only the slaughter ot his men and the destruction
of his forts. But the Wind was thoughtless enough to get up, and
the sea—it is an awkward way it has—knows no better than to get
agitated by the wind, and our vessels shook and swayed about so that
it was quite impossible to direct our fire very carelully, and Kagosima,
a city of 180,000 people, was totally destroyed. Really no person of
ordinary candour and civility can say a word on the subject alter this
explanation; and if the Japanese bear any malice when they have read
our apology, it will show that they are savages, and unworthy of the
consideration of gentlemen. Still, if they like, they can talk to the
Wind, which is indeed the last court of appeal lor savages who have
complaints to make of over-ardent, advances on Lhe part of civilisation.
Mozart Outdone.
Balee, who is a bet esprit as well as a great musician, upon being
told that Mr. Elatoit had received from Mr. Graves not less than
£20,000 for Frith’s picture of The Railway Station, simply lifted his
hands and his eyes up to the proscenium, and most devoutly exclaimed,
“ II Flatou Magico ! ”
PUNCH. OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
231
on May-day. How would you have liked it-, yourself, when you used to
lead the whole University on Smoke-Jack? Fancy riding gaily at a
fence and never finding out a wire had been placed just four feet beyond
it till you got up with a very confused notion of locality, a broken
collar-bone, a crushed hat, and poor Smoke-Jack on three legs for the
rest of the season. Manyagood fellowraay be dangerously hurt, and many
a gallant horse cruelly mauled, though I think in my heart, from what I
observed last night, that come wpat may, “ they won't get Sparkles !”
I remain, dear Mr. Punch, with the utmost respect, your old and
attached friend, Lucius Lambswool.
THE GAME OF NOVICE IN MARGARET STREET.
onoria, Dearest,—Now croquet is over
for the season, there is no game that I
know of to beat that of Roman Catholics.
You must enjoy it much at Claydon with
such capital players as Mr. Drury and
Father Ignatius, and the other Monks
who perform Monks’ tricks so cleverly in
the Church. We had a capital game here the other day, at All Saints,
Margaret Street—played at Nuns—Emily took the white veil and
vows for n year. It was so nice; all in church: the altar all decked
out with flowers, and covered with white satin, and the postulant also
in white, dressed as a bride, in a lovely wedding-dress, orange flowers
and everything complete; and what with a little artificial colour in her
cheeks, which would otherwise have been rather too pale, she looked
so pretty—as we all said, “ beautiful for ever.”
Well, and then you know the candles on the altar were lighted, and
the service performed quite like a real mass—nobody but a regular
Roman Catholic could have told the difference, and the Cardinal
Inmself would have been some time in finding it out. And so then
Emily was questioned, and had to say that she was going to take the
vows of her own free will; and then she took them for a year; and the
Sisters all said, “ Bless thee, Sister Ursula ! ” and that, wicked wretch,
Bob Villiebs, who was asked, whispered close behind me, “ Bless thee,
thou art translated!” And then Ursula, that is Emily that was,
curtsied to the Lady Superior, and to the Father who performed the
service, and a splendid Father our Clergyman made. Just then, while
the choir was singiDg Jubilate, we were so frightened by an idle school-
boy who poked his head in at the door, and cried out—“ Cavy ! the
Bishop’s coming.” When the ceremony was all over, we went to
breakfast; a regular wedding breakfast, you know, bridecake and
everything; and I kept a bit of the cake and put it under my pillow,
and dreamt of kissing the Pope’s toe. We had such fun; pulled
crackers with the Father with Church mottoes enclosed; so good, some
of them, and Yilliers was so agreeable, but made himself such a
goose. ELe said he must kiss the bridemaids—and did 1 And what
do you think ! He advised me to work the Father a pair of slippers
inlaid with glass beads inside the soles, and to embroider him a hair
shirt. The creature suggested that we might fiud the materials off
our own heads.
Everything went off so nicely. Emily’s friends are in mourning
for her, as she is supposed to be dead to the world; her sisters look
well in black. The nunnery she goes into is attached to the Church,
and as much as possible like a real one I believe in discipline, whipping
and all. If Emily finds all this too much of a joke, she can give it up
at the end of the year.
For further particulars see the Western Morning News. Write soon,
and be sure you tell me all about dear Father Ignatius. I wonder it
he will really keep his vows of celibacy f That dreadful Villiers. says
that perhaps Puseyism in sport will become Popery in earnest. What
a shame of him ! Believe me, dearest, ever yours,
Belgravia, December, 1863. Ethel.
P.S. He has just called, in a white hat with black crape round it—
says it is for Emily, and calls it butcher’s mourning.
A MOTHER ON SMOKE.
Dear Mr. Punch,
1 am very partial to country newspapers, and I believe that
most women are. lou see nothing in the Loudon papers except politics,
a.nd long trials, and bursting Armstrong guns, and quarrelling about
drainage. But in a good country paper you get column after column of
real news, nice little stories, and such information about the Queen and
the 1 rincesses and other great people as you never can find in London
newspapers. I would sooner go without all of them than my own
county journal, which my sister sends me up weekly in exchange for
my Punch.
Well, in this week’s county paper, I find this, Mr. Punch:—
Smoking Now-a-Days.—A Young Thief.—Thomas Jones, of Oswestry, a boy
eleven years of age, was charged with stealing seven ounces of tobacco, the property
of the Great Western Railway Company. A policeman testified to finding the
tobacco upon him, and it seems that he stole it to smoke with another boy. He
pleaded guilty. Sentenced to be confined for the remainder of the day and once
whipped with nine strokes of a birch rod.”
Now, Mr. Punch, I dare say that if I had been on the bench of justice,
as they call it, I should have_ given this bad boy a good scolding, and lei
him off, for I see that, he cried, and said he would not do it agaiu. I
am sure I should, in fact, if the stealing a little tobacco, which I dare
say was going to the shop of some cheating cigar-seller, had been the
only thing. If he had stoleu it to give ir, to his father or somebody
else, I could not have allowed him t,o be much puuished, though of
course I am not defending stealing, and I would certainly have had
him locked up for the rest of the day, and let him have nothing but
cold meat ami a very little beer for his dinuer. But he stole the nasty
tobacco to smoke it, and now that the affair is all over, and as I did
uot know that he was going to be whipped, I think I am glad of it,
though I hope he was not much hurt, it is perfectly shocking, Mr.
Punch, to see children of eleven, twelve, fourteen, and sixteen smoking
away at pipes and cigars as they do. When 1 see them in the street I
feel inclined to snatch away the tobacco, and throw ir, into the gutter
and say, “You little wretch, how dare yon ruin your health and stint
your growth in that way ? ” The doctors agree that though tobacco may
not do a grown-up man much harm (it only makes him a pig, and I wish
yon could see the Utrecht velvet of my dining-room chairs after my
husband and a friend or two have had a smoky evening—and then the
price of cigars is perfectly wicked), it is most deleterious to young per-
sons, and the use of it ought to be put down by law. I am not at all
sure that the same punishment that Master Thomas Jones received
would not be a very good thing for any little boy smoking, and as for the
bigger ones, they should be shut up to do the most severe Impositions.
1 wish you would take up the subject, and prevent the rising generation
from being a stunted, sickly, sallow, surly, cigar-sucking set of stupids.
I am, dear Mr. Punch, your devoted admirer,
Brompton Square. An Anxious Mother.
P.S. I quite approve of the notice which Her Majesty has caused to
be stuck up in Windsor Castle.
THE WIND DID IT.
Mr. Punch stated, the other day, iu conversation with his friend the
Emperor Napoleon, that as to the Japanese affair Earl Russell had
an explanation to offer which would be quite satisfactory to all persons
without, prejudice. Lord Clarence Paget has since been permitted
to make this explanation, and anything more entirely satisfactory can
hardly he conceived. It is “ the sweetest thing out.” We were
obliged to bombard Prince Satsuma, in sheer self-defence, for he had
fired ou us while inoffensively stealing his steamboats. We bombarded
accordingly, meaning only the slaughter ot his men and the destruction
of his forts. But the Wind was thoughtless enough to get up, and
the sea—it is an awkward way it has—knows no better than to get
agitated by the wind, and our vessels shook and swayed about so that
it was quite impossible to direct our fire very carelully, and Kagosima,
a city of 180,000 people, was totally destroyed. Really no person of
ordinary candour and civility can say a word on the subject alter this
explanation; and if the Japanese bear any malice when they have read
our apology, it will show that they are savages, and unworthy of the
consideration of gentlemen. Still, if they like, they can talk to the
Wind, which is indeed the last court of appeal lor savages who have
complaints to make of over-ardent, advances on Lhe part of civilisation.
Mozart Outdone.
Balee, who is a bet esprit as well as a great musician, upon being
told that Mr. Elatoit had received from Mr. Graves not less than
£20,000 for Frith’s picture of The Railway Station, simply lifted his
hands and his eyes up to the proscenium, and most devoutly exclaimed,
“ II Flatou Magico ! ”