February 4. !8fi5.i PUNCH, ‘ OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
MUTUAL SATISFACTION.
Bilious Old Uncle. “I’m delighted to see this Fall; it will give that
dreadful Boy Chilblains, and he’ll be laid up out op Mischief.”
Occupation of “ That dreadful Boy” at the same period.
IMAGINARY BIOGRAPHY.
HOYLE.
When Hoyle came into the world it was on the cards for him to
play the part of a deep diplomatist, a great general, a magnificent md-
lionnaire, a successful statesman, or any other character which requires
for its formation good judgment, skilful combination, an accurate
memory, a serene temper, and some loose silver. But his destiny was
different, and he did not run counter to his fate. He turned up a
great whist player, a potent card ruler: green baize had greater charms
for him than scarlet cloth, the trump of war he never heard—although
he had many a sharp tussle with Mbs. Battle—the strategy and
finesse he practised, the schemes and manoeuvres he employed were
displayed, not in Courts and Camps, not on bourses and battle-fields,
but in club-rooms and cosy parlours, at quadrille parties and card
assemblies. The victories he won were gained in front of a coal-fire,
the honours fortune dealt him came in company with a pair of wax-
' lights.
Boyle’s life presents a heap of contradictions, his character and
conduct a string of oppositions; so much so as to have led some to
think that he never had an existence, that he was nothing but a—
dummy. A staunch Protestant, he was a stout adherent of “ Pope; ” a
blazing Tory he knew “ Pam,” and found him “ civil; ” a determined
bachelor he engaged in “ matrimony; ” innocent as a child, he delighted
in “ intrigue,” and was fond of “ casino.” Pair and above-board in
all his dealings, he was always at his tricks, and mixed up with shuffling
transactions; abstemious as a Coldstream Guardsman, he loved a
“ bumper;” modest and retiring, he indulged in “ brag;” kind and
affectionate, he had a horror of “ love; ” shy of the water, he liked
“ punting; ” dancing was his aversion, and yet he never refused an invi-
tation to a “ quadrille ” party; he despised trade, but took to “ com-
merce ; ” put his savings in the three per cents, and lost by “ specula-
tion ; ” never stirred out of England, but was often seen at “ Loo ”
and “Macao,” and knew more about “ matadores ” than men who had
witnessed a hundred bull-fights at Seville, and studied tauromachy
for years at Barcelona.
What did those who knew him say of him ? That he was a rough
diamond with a good heart ;_that he spoke his mind and called a spade
a spade; that he was the kmg of good fellows, and a regular trump at
the club, and that he hated a knave as thoroughly as he did an adversary
who was content to play whist for nothing. He had his weak points,
his odd tricks. Cut and dried as he seemed, he showed a boyish relish
for a “ see-saw; ” so averse was he to changing his suit that he wore
his clothes until they were threadbare; and, like most of us, he
nourished an antipathy, not to babies, cats, or income-tax papers, but
to what one would call a harmless article of dress—a ruff.
It has been mentioned that Hoyle was an old bachelor, a “ solitaire.”
But he had known “ hazard.” Soon after he came of age (got a natural
vingt-et-un, as he phrased it) a young damsel asked him if he “pro-
posed,” but this embarrassing question, which gave him a flush, proved
to have been put only in play, although it was Bissextile. Later on in
life he was within an ace of being caught by a lady who, from her
black eyes and brilliant complexion, was known among her acquaintances
as “ rouge-et-noir;” but the fair pursuer showed her hand too early in
the game, did not play her (court) cards well, and failed to establish
her suit and herself. This escape happened at Cheltenham, for which
place Hoyle showed a great partiality, and where he enjoyed his
(India) rubber with the resident Nabobs with whom he speedily curried
favour. Yet he always spoke approvingly of the married state, and
would say that he thought it the next best thing to being single. Good
judges, however, experienced matrons and spinsters of some standing,
declared that he had no heart, and called him “ the most coldest that
ever turned up ace.”
When his famous treatise appeared, it at once became so popular
that the phrase which has since been improperly diverted to sperm and
paraffin then first came into vogue, to distinguish those who studied
him early and late, and were therefore said “to consume the midnight
Hoyle.”
His end was a melancholy one. Short whist killed him. He first
heard of the intruder when paying a morning visit, went home to his
lodgings (he was then living at Trumpington), took to his bed, and
never “called” again. In his wanderings he was heard to mutter,
“ double, double, toil and trouble; ” and—for he loved music—to
lament that he could never go to his glee and catch club again because
of the “trebles.” The ruling passion was dominant to the last; for
when inclined to make a new will, and discard a loose relative, his
repugnance to revoke compelled him to renounce the idea. He had
a great funeral—many private carriages were in the procession; amongst
them those of the Earl of Peterborough, Count Borolaski, Major
A--, Mrs. Battle, Charles Lamb, and Robert Short, Esquires.
Reader, if in your rambles you discover a mossy stone with this brief j
inscription—“ Ay, there’s the rub?” ruminate upon it when you take
your “ Cavendish,” and try to make as good a score as Hoyle.
Civilisation in France.
The following is a recent piece of foreign intelligence :—
“ Fatal Duel.—The Moniteur de la Meurthe announces that M. Pompuzan, 34
years of age, veterinary surgeon of the 2nd Dragoons at Toul, has been killed in a
duel by an officer of the same regiment.”
Moniteur de la Meurthe? Surely this is a misprint. Should it not be
Moniteur de Meurtre ?
i
MUTUAL SATISFACTION.
Bilious Old Uncle. “I’m delighted to see this Fall; it will give that
dreadful Boy Chilblains, and he’ll be laid up out op Mischief.”
Occupation of “ That dreadful Boy” at the same period.
IMAGINARY BIOGRAPHY.
HOYLE.
When Hoyle came into the world it was on the cards for him to
play the part of a deep diplomatist, a great general, a magnificent md-
lionnaire, a successful statesman, or any other character which requires
for its formation good judgment, skilful combination, an accurate
memory, a serene temper, and some loose silver. But his destiny was
different, and he did not run counter to his fate. He turned up a
great whist player, a potent card ruler: green baize had greater charms
for him than scarlet cloth, the trump of war he never heard—although
he had many a sharp tussle with Mbs. Battle—the strategy and
finesse he practised, the schemes and manoeuvres he employed were
displayed, not in Courts and Camps, not on bourses and battle-fields,
but in club-rooms and cosy parlours, at quadrille parties and card
assemblies. The victories he won were gained in front of a coal-fire,
the honours fortune dealt him came in company with a pair of wax-
' lights.
Boyle’s life presents a heap of contradictions, his character and
conduct a string of oppositions; so much so as to have led some to
think that he never had an existence, that he was nothing but a—
dummy. A staunch Protestant, he was a stout adherent of “ Pope; ” a
blazing Tory he knew “ Pam,” and found him “ civil; ” a determined
bachelor he engaged in “ matrimony; ” innocent as a child, he delighted
in “ intrigue,” and was fond of “ casino.” Pair and above-board in
all his dealings, he was always at his tricks, and mixed up with shuffling
transactions; abstemious as a Coldstream Guardsman, he loved a
“ bumper;” modest and retiring, he indulged in “ brag;” kind and
affectionate, he had a horror of “ love; ” shy of the water, he liked
“ punting; ” dancing was his aversion, and yet he never refused an invi-
tation to a “ quadrille ” party; he despised trade, but took to “ com-
merce ; ” put his savings in the three per cents, and lost by “ specula-
tion ; ” never stirred out of England, but was often seen at “ Loo ”
and “Macao,” and knew more about “ matadores ” than men who had
witnessed a hundred bull-fights at Seville, and studied tauromachy
for years at Barcelona.
What did those who knew him say of him ? That he was a rough
diamond with a good heart ;_that he spoke his mind and called a spade
a spade; that he was the kmg of good fellows, and a regular trump at
the club, and that he hated a knave as thoroughly as he did an adversary
who was content to play whist for nothing. He had his weak points,
his odd tricks. Cut and dried as he seemed, he showed a boyish relish
for a “ see-saw; ” so averse was he to changing his suit that he wore
his clothes until they were threadbare; and, like most of us, he
nourished an antipathy, not to babies, cats, or income-tax papers, but
to what one would call a harmless article of dress—a ruff.
It has been mentioned that Hoyle was an old bachelor, a “ solitaire.”
But he had known “ hazard.” Soon after he came of age (got a natural
vingt-et-un, as he phrased it) a young damsel asked him if he “pro-
posed,” but this embarrassing question, which gave him a flush, proved
to have been put only in play, although it was Bissextile. Later on in
life he was within an ace of being caught by a lady who, from her
black eyes and brilliant complexion, was known among her acquaintances
as “ rouge-et-noir;” but the fair pursuer showed her hand too early in
the game, did not play her (court) cards well, and failed to establish
her suit and herself. This escape happened at Cheltenham, for which
place Hoyle showed a great partiality, and where he enjoyed his
(India) rubber with the resident Nabobs with whom he speedily curried
favour. Yet he always spoke approvingly of the married state, and
would say that he thought it the next best thing to being single. Good
judges, however, experienced matrons and spinsters of some standing,
declared that he had no heart, and called him “ the most coldest that
ever turned up ace.”
When his famous treatise appeared, it at once became so popular
that the phrase which has since been improperly diverted to sperm and
paraffin then first came into vogue, to distinguish those who studied
him early and late, and were therefore said “to consume the midnight
Hoyle.”
His end was a melancholy one. Short whist killed him. He first
heard of the intruder when paying a morning visit, went home to his
lodgings (he was then living at Trumpington), took to his bed, and
never “called” again. In his wanderings he was heard to mutter,
“ double, double, toil and trouble; ” and—for he loved music—to
lament that he could never go to his glee and catch club again because
of the “trebles.” The ruling passion was dominant to the last; for
when inclined to make a new will, and discard a loose relative, his
repugnance to revoke compelled him to renounce the idea. He had
a great funeral—many private carriages were in the procession; amongst
them those of the Earl of Peterborough, Count Borolaski, Major
A--, Mrs. Battle, Charles Lamb, and Robert Short, Esquires.
Reader, if in your rambles you discover a mossy stone with this brief j
inscription—“ Ay, there’s the rub?” ruminate upon it when you take
your “ Cavendish,” and try to make as good a score as Hoyle.
Civilisation in France.
The following is a recent piece of foreign intelligence :—
“ Fatal Duel.—The Moniteur de la Meurthe announces that M. Pompuzan, 34
years of age, veterinary surgeon of the 2nd Dragoons at Toul, has been killed in a
duel by an officer of the same regiment.”
Moniteur de la Meurthe? Surely this is a misprint. Should it not be
Moniteur de Meurtre ?
i