DOI Heft:
December 24, 1864
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16874#0269
December 24, 1864.]
PUNCH OR THE LONDON OH ARTY ART.
263
House) declared, in recitative, the Parliament opened. Strange to say,
we never heard him in finer voice.
Signor Ronconi, who was greeted with long and loud applause, then
rose and sang. The first part of his speech, on the Budget, was chiefly-
addressed to the country members; he began—“ TJdite, udite, 0 Rustici,
attenti, non fiat ate R {Bravo, Figaro, Bravo !) The honourable Member
begged to remind the gentlemen, whose applause was no doubt ironical,
that he appeared there as Doctor Dulcamara. {Bravo! Bravissimo !) He
continued — “ Ch’ io sono quel gran meddco, dottore Enciclopedico
chiamato Dulcamara.” Here the Minister of Finance went on from
andante into prestissimo, and we were totally unable to follow him.
The honourable gentleman concluded the movement with (as near as
we could catch the words) “pin d’ un’ afflitta vedova dipiangere cesso.”
Chorus. (Oh 1)
He then made some further explanations. But what with the
volubility of the singer, the unsteadiness of the chorus, who however
managed to chime in effectively at the finale, and the fact of the band
feeing just a trifle too loud, we were unable to hear distinctly more
than the first words, which sounded to us remarkably like “ Cosi
chiaro.” At the conclusion there was a great deal of applause, which
was immediately repressed by N. N. and the other ushers.
The remainder of the debate, we, for the benefit of the English who
are so greatly interested in our progress, transfer to our columns from
the note-book of an eminent Translator of Libretti, who was present
in an official capacity.
The Minister of War {recitative'). My friends {chord) and dear com-
panions, who are around me! {chord) I love to see ye, and with
welcome greet ye {chord). And now to work, to business! {Trrum,
trrum, two decisive chords, after which the Aria.)
How sweetly throbs
My beating heart!
{Aside.) But tear myself away
Oh, how that task perform !
Chorus. Oh, heavens !
Minister of War {continues). Italia, oh Italia !
A thousand voices raise
Their cry. But ah !
Revenge no bounds knows.
Chorus. What rapture! He is some great one!
Secretary of State. Upon the hills of Rome
The banners of the foe advance.
Leader of Opposition {aside). With rage my heart is bursting.
Chorus {vaguely). How? Oh,torment!
Minister of Religion {rising). Hear me, you wicked Syren.
Pity for you, never. ’Tis I
Wli® have changed their dealing with this hand.
Chorus. Unhappy one!
Signor Mario. The Sitting {chord) is {chord) concluded!
{Chord, chord).
All. "I Joy! joy! Oh happy day !
Leader of Opposition | I ( my )
and l | With rage, < his > heart is bursting !
Chorus aside). J J ( our )
Hurrah ! hurrah!
We must be silent! Huzza!
Joy ! joy ! Let the bottle make up for our labours.
[They retire, and the Ushers clear the gallery and close the House for
night.
And' if after this Italians neglect the hint, all we can say is, we are
sorry for them.
MR. MANTALINI IN HYSTERICS.
nd has it come to this ? We
have lived to be attacked by
Mr. Mantalini. Even the
man-milliner’s gentle soul
has been aroused against
us. “Thelittle dogs, Tray,
Blanche, and Sweetheart,”
barked at King Lear, he said,
but what a very little dog
whines against Mr. Punch.
If it were not rather a
vulgar little dog, we should
say it was the tiny one
which the Prince in the
fairy tale had to find for his
Papa.
Mr. Mantalini (as the
other milliners know), when
wearied of turning the
mangle, looked out for
other occupation, and ulti-
mately became editor of Le
Follet. We knew this, but
never told, and we have
been very kind to him, for
the sake of many merry
memories. But we regret
to say, that “Alfred ” has turned naughty, and scolds us
demnably. He is a very naughty Alfred, for he sets out with a
declaration that he wishes to imitate another Alfred, now extinct,
who presided over “ a thousand worlds, peopled with millions of
little opera-dancers.” What would Madame Mantalini say to that ?
Alfred is very spiteful, and much as we like him, we must ask
Madame Mantalini to give him ever so little a rap with a stay-bone
on his little knuckles, for spoiling so pretty a paper as Le Follet with
this wilful, wayward writing:—
“ Punch used to be demnably funny, and his pippetty-poppetty pokes
made one laugh like—like demnition. But what a demd falling off. None
but a very low and ungenteel mind could have found anything rude in
what proceeded from our angel of a little gold pen, and perfumed ink
(oh, so nice, dem it), when we were writing a little tickley-wickley
article about our patronesses, the adored and enchanting ladies of
fashion. The rude beast—he shall be horsewhipped till he cries out
demnably. Our first will not prove to be our last word with Punch,
though such low company gives us a headache, as if fifty thousand
bonnet boxes had tumbled down upon our head at once.”
Now, Alfred, this is very unkind. When have we been so
cruel and wicked, dear fellow, as to accuse you of meaning any-
thing at all? And why will you, abandoning your own sweet manner,
break out in the manner of the other and extinct Alfred, whose
effort in the satirical line, as you say, caused Mr. Funch to leave him
thenceforth and for ever in his own cesspool. You are very smart,
we allow. Your little onslaught is exactly in the usual gentlemanly
style in which Mr. Punch is abused. But then, most other people
Alfred, who launch these epigrams, have reasons for it. Mr.
Punch has either refused their rubbish, or castigated their folly, or
done them a kindness, or in some way justified their spite. But for
you, Mantalini, dear, he has never had anything but the prettiest
compliments—sugar-plum critiques—rosewater crackers. There is a
compliment in the very article you are pettish about, pet, if you could
only understand it. What has gone wrong with tiie poppet of Le
Follet? Has it been eating too many mince-pies for luck before
Christmas ? That is sad, but Madame must give it some gruel. We
cannot be angry with our Alfred, but he is a demnition goosey-
gander.
METEOROLOGICAL APPOINTMENT.
Everybody has heard of the Clerk of the Weather Office, but nobody
ever supposed that the Office so called was one of the Government
Offices, notwithstanding the existence of Admiral Eitzroy’s depart-
ment. Still the gallant Admiral who presides over that department is
not generally imagined to have any control over the weather. It is,
however, easy to foresee the questions which will occur to many single-
minded persons on reading this announcement, extracted from the
Edinburgh Courant:—
“ Superintendence of Northern Lights.—Mr. Young, Engineer of the Light-
house Steamer Pharos, has received the appointment of Superintendent of Northern
Lights, vacant by the resignation of Mr. Scott.”
Is it possible that the Northern Lights, of which Mr. Scott has
resigned the superintendence, are the same as those referred to by a
namesake of Mr. Scott’s in the Lay of the Last Minstrel?—
“ And he knew by the streamers that shot so bright,
That the Spirits were riding the Northern Light.”
And has the Admiralty actually appointed Mr. Young to superintend
the Aurora Borealis ?
To Cambridge Students.
The Cambridge authorities have given out this as the subject for the
Latin epigram this year :—
“ Mille adde catenas,
“ Effugiet tamen hsec sceleratus vincula Proteus.”
They request Mr. Punch to inform competitors that there is to be no
allusion lo the Davenport humbug, suggestive though the adjective
may be.
PUNCH OR THE LONDON OH ARTY ART.
263
House) declared, in recitative, the Parliament opened. Strange to say,
we never heard him in finer voice.
Signor Ronconi, who was greeted with long and loud applause, then
rose and sang. The first part of his speech, on the Budget, was chiefly-
addressed to the country members; he began—“ TJdite, udite, 0 Rustici,
attenti, non fiat ate R {Bravo, Figaro, Bravo !) The honourable Member
begged to remind the gentlemen, whose applause was no doubt ironical,
that he appeared there as Doctor Dulcamara. {Bravo! Bravissimo !) He
continued — “ Ch’ io sono quel gran meddco, dottore Enciclopedico
chiamato Dulcamara.” Here the Minister of Finance went on from
andante into prestissimo, and we were totally unable to follow him.
The honourable gentleman concluded the movement with (as near as
we could catch the words) “pin d’ un’ afflitta vedova dipiangere cesso.”
Chorus. (Oh 1)
He then made some further explanations. But what with the
volubility of the singer, the unsteadiness of the chorus, who however
managed to chime in effectively at the finale, and the fact of the band
feeing just a trifle too loud, we were unable to hear distinctly more
than the first words, which sounded to us remarkably like “ Cosi
chiaro.” At the conclusion there was a great deal of applause, which
was immediately repressed by N. N. and the other ushers.
The remainder of the debate, we, for the benefit of the English who
are so greatly interested in our progress, transfer to our columns from
the note-book of an eminent Translator of Libretti, who was present
in an official capacity.
The Minister of War {recitative'). My friends {chord) and dear com-
panions, who are around me! {chord) I love to see ye, and with
welcome greet ye {chord). And now to work, to business! {Trrum,
trrum, two decisive chords, after which the Aria.)
How sweetly throbs
My beating heart!
{Aside.) But tear myself away
Oh, how that task perform !
Chorus. Oh, heavens !
Minister of War {continues). Italia, oh Italia !
A thousand voices raise
Their cry. But ah !
Revenge no bounds knows.
Chorus. What rapture! He is some great one!
Secretary of State. Upon the hills of Rome
The banners of the foe advance.
Leader of Opposition {aside). With rage my heart is bursting.
Chorus {vaguely). How? Oh,torment!
Minister of Religion {rising). Hear me, you wicked Syren.
Pity for you, never. ’Tis I
Wli® have changed their dealing with this hand.
Chorus. Unhappy one!
Signor Mario. The Sitting {chord) is {chord) concluded!
{Chord, chord).
All. "I Joy! joy! Oh happy day !
Leader of Opposition | I ( my )
and l | With rage, < his > heart is bursting !
Chorus aside). J J ( our )
Hurrah ! hurrah!
We must be silent! Huzza!
Joy ! joy ! Let the bottle make up for our labours.
[They retire, and the Ushers clear the gallery and close the House for
night.
And' if after this Italians neglect the hint, all we can say is, we are
sorry for them.
MR. MANTALINI IN HYSTERICS.
nd has it come to this ? We
have lived to be attacked by
Mr. Mantalini. Even the
man-milliner’s gentle soul
has been aroused against
us. “Thelittle dogs, Tray,
Blanche, and Sweetheart,”
barked at King Lear, he said,
but what a very little dog
whines against Mr. Punch.
If it were not rather a
vulgar little dog, we should
say it was the tiny one
which the Prince in the
fairy tale had to find for his
Papa.
Mr. Mantalini (as the
other milliners know), when
wearied of turning the
mangle, looked out for
other occupation, and ulti-
mately became editor of Le
Follet. We knew this, but
never told, and we have
been very kind to him, for
the sake of many merry
memories. But we regret
to say, that “Alfred ” has turned naughty, and scolds us
demnably. He is a very naughty Alfred, for he sets out with a
declaration that he wishes to imitate another Alfred, now extinct,
who presided over “ a thousand worlds, peopled with millions of
little opera-dancers.” What would Madame Mantalini say to that ?
Alfred is very spiteful, and much as we like him, we must ask
Madame Mantalini to give him ever so little a rap with a stay-bone
on his little knuckles, for spoiling so pretty a paper as Le Follet with
this wilful, wayward writing:—
“ Punch used to be demnably funny, and his pippetty-poppetty pokes
made one laugh like—like demnition. But what a demd falling off. None
but a very low and ungenteel mind could have found anything rude in
what proceeded from our angel of a little gold pen, and perfumed ink
(oh, so nice, dem it), when we were writing a little tickley-wickley
article about our patronesses, the adored and enchanting ladies of
fashion. The rude beast—he shall be horsewhipped till he cries out
demnably. Our first will not prove to be our last word with Punch,
though such low company gives us a headache, as if fifty thousand
bonnet boxes had tumbled down upon our head at once.”
Now, Alfred, this is very unkind. When have we been so
cruel and wicked, dear fellow, as to accuse you of meaning any-
thing at all? And why will you, abandoning your own sweet manner,
break out in the manner of the other and extinct Alfred, whose
effort in the satirical line, as you say, caused Mr. Funch to leave him
thenceforth and for ever in his own cesspool. You are very smart,
we allow. Your little onslaught is exactly in the usual gentlemanly
style in which Mr. Punch is abused. But then, most other people
Alfred, who launch these epigrams, have reasons for it. Mr.
Punch has either refused their rubbish, or castigated their folly, or
done them a kindness, or in some way justified their spite. But for
you, Mantalini, dear, he has never had anything but the prettiest
compliments—sugar-plum critiques—rosewater crackers. There is a
compliment in the very article you are pettish about, pet, if you could
only understand it. What has gone wrong with tiie poppet of Le
Follet? Has it been eating too many mince-pies for luck before
Christmas ? That is sad, but Madame must give it some gruel. We
cannot be angry with our Alfred, but he is a demnition goosey-
gander.
METEOROLOGICAL APPOINTMENT.
Everybody has heard of the Clerk of the Weather Office, but nobody
ever supposed that the Office so called was one of the Government
Offices, notwithstanding the existence of Admiral Eitzroy’s depart-
ment. Still the gallant Admiral who presides over that department is
not generally imagined to have any control over the weather. It is,
however, easy to foresee the questions which will occur to many single-
minded persons on reading this announcement, extracted from the
Edinburgh Courant:—
“ Superintendence of Northern Lights.—Mr. Young, Engineer of the Light-
house Steamer Pharos, has received the appointment of Superintendent of Northern
Lights, vacant by the resignation of Mr. Scott.”
Is it possible that the Northern Lights, of which Mr. Scott has
resigned the superintendence, are the same as those referred to by a
namesake of Mr. Scott’s in the Lay of the Last Minstrel?—
“ And he knew by the streamers that shot so bright,
That the Spirits were riding the Northern Light.”
And has the Admiralty actually appointed Mr. Young to superintend
the Aurora Borealis ?
To Cambridge Students.
The Cambridge authorities have given out this as the subject for the
Latin epigram this year :—
“ Mille adde catenas,
“ Effugiet tamen hsec sceleratus vincula Proteus.”
They request Mr. Punch to inform competitors that there is to be no
allusion lo the Davenport humbug, suggestive though the adjective
may be.