DOI Heft:
December 9, 1865
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16876#0237
December 9, 1865.]
PUNCH OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
225
WHAT A FIB!
Geologising Savant. “I think the Horse looks Vicious! And what’s that Cage on his Nose for?”
Groom. “Vicious ! Oh, no, Sir ! And that Thing on his Nose is—is a Respirator?”
BRITISH AND FOREIGN MAWWORMS.
The Monde is a phoenix that has arisen out of the ashes of our old
friend the Univers. What sort of a bird is this phoenix? We are
| enabled by the Debuts to answer this question. As a set-off against a
complaint made by the Monde that cheap publications, circulating
amongst the lower classes, tended to corrupt the minds of the people,
the leading French journal quotes the subjoined specimen of the litera-
ture of the party represented by the Ultramontane organ. It is taken
from a periodical called Les Petites Lectures, wherein it occurs amongst
the entries of a “Bulletin de la Semaine,” supposed to be the diary of
a young workman, in which he records what a British Methodist in the
parallel case would call his “ experiences ”:—
“ Wednesday. An hour of meditation, a rosary, an hour of silence, two blows
received from a workman, five Paters, five Aves, two Souvenez-vous. Thursday. At
my breakfast I ate some dry bread as a mortification and a spiritual banquet; in
returning to my work I was caught in a shower, and I made an offering of the
wetting to the Holy Virgin. Friday. In the morning two hours of silence; in the
evening four hours, ad majorem Dei Gloriam. Saturday. I offered to God my work,
my burdens, my fatigues, my annoyances, my sufferings at the workshop, and a
kick given me by a workman.”
“ Ay, do despise me; I likes to be despised,” says the Protestant
Mawworm. Ultramontanism appears to have its Mawworm too. The
young workman who above describes himself as having got a kick which
he turned to pious account perhaps acknowledged that favour received
at the toe of his comrade by saying, “ Ay, do kick me; I likes to be
kicked.” One who had never before happened to read the following
passage from a renowned narrative would think that it must have
related to this young workman:—
“ He would stand in the turning of a street, and calling to those who passed by,
would cry to one, ‘ Worthy, Sir, do me the honour of a good slap in the chops.’ To
another, ‘ Honest friend, pray favour me with a handsome kick . . .; Madam,
shall I entreat a small box on the ear from your ladyship’s fair hands ? Noble
captain, lend me a reasonable thwack, for the love of God, with that cane of yours
over these poor shoulders.’ ”
But, indeed, the hero, Jack, whose acts of self-abasement are com-
memorated as above in the Tale of a Tub, is represented by Swiet as
bearing in many respects a strong family resemblance to his brother
Peter. The resemblance still exists, and it is also shared by Stiggins,
and Chadband, and the rest. Have we no Saints ? Plenty ; such as
our sanctified friend the young French workman who drivels in his
“ Bulletin de la Semaine.” Our saints are, as they profess to be, very
serious, but they must not fancy that those other saints are less serious
than themselves. What can be more serious than the idea of making
an offering of a wetting or a kick, especially a kick; which, if it
were offered to you, you would return ?
These considerations should teach us mutual charity and toleration.
But the question about the phoenix, Le Monde, remains to be answered.
What sort of a bird is it ? The same as the piece de resistance at the
Feast of St. Michael. The phoenix is a goose.
R. D. T.’s CONCERTS.
Several new performers are about to be added to the orchestra.
Amongst them we are authorised to mention:—
The man who fiddles with his watch-chain.
The man who harps on one string.
The man who blows his own trumpet.
The man who is up to the horns of a dilemma.
The man who knows the symbols of algebra and the triangles of Euclid.
The man who rings the changes.
The man who drums on the table.
The man who is fond of his Fife, and
Several artistes (in spectacles) with their musical glasses.
Scores of applicants have been refused, because they all wanted to
play the first fiddle, and a chorus could easily have been formed of those
who sang their own praises.
N.B. The lady violinist will appear in lutestring.
The Latest Thing out.—The Head Centre.
Vol. 49.
8
PUNCH OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
225
WHAT A FIB!
Geologising Savant. “I think the Horse looks Vicious! And what’s that Cage on his Nose for?”
Groom. “Vicious ! Oh, no, Sir ! And that Thing on his Nose is—is a Respirator?”
BRITISH AND FOREIGN MAWWORMS.
The Monde is a phoenix that has arisen out of the ashes of our old
friend the Univers. What sort of a bird is this phoenix? We are
| enabled by the Debuts to answer this question. As a set-off against a
complaint made by the Monde that cheap publications, circulating
amongst the lower classes, tended to corrupt the minds of the people,
the leading French journal quotes the subjoined specimen of the litera-
ture of the party represented by the Ultramontane organ. It is taken
from a periodical called Les Petites Lectures, wherein it occurs amongst
the entries of a “Bulletin de la Semaine,” supposed to be the diary of
a young workman, in which he records what a British Methodist in the
parallel case would call his “ experiences ”:—
“ Wednesday. An hour of meditation, a rosary, an hour of silence, two blows
received from a workman, five Paters, five Aves, two Souvenez-vous. Thursday. At
my breakfast I ate some dry bread as a mortification and a spiritual banquet; in
returning to my work I was caught in a shower, and I made an offering of the
wetting to the Holy Virgin. Friday. In the morning two hours of silence; in the
evening four hours, ad majorem Dei Gloriam. Saturday. I offered to God my work,
my burdens, my fatigues, my annoyances, my sufferings at the workshop, and a
kick given me by a workman.”
“ Ay, do despise me; I likes to be despised,” says the Protestant
Mawworm. Ultramontanism appears to have its Mawworm too. The
young workman who above describes himself as having got a kick which
he turned to pious account perhaps acknowledged that favour received
at the toe of his comrade by saying, “ Ay, do kick me; I likes to be
kicked.” One who had never before happened to read the following
passage from a renowned narrative would think that it must have
related to this young workman:—
“ He would stand in the turning of a street, and calling to those who passed by,
would cry to one, ‘ Worthy, Sir, do me the honour of a good slap in the chops.’ To
another, ‘ Honest friend, pray favour me with a handsome kick . . .; Madam,
shall I entreat a small box on the ear from your ladyship’s fair hands ? Noble
captain, lend me a reasonable thwack, for the love of God, with that cane of yours
over these poor shoulders.’ ”
But, indeed, the hero, Jack, whose acts of self-abasement are com-
memorated as above in the Tale of a Tub, is represented by Swiet as
bearing in many respects a strong family resemblance to his brother
Peter. The resemblance still exists, and it is also shared by Stiggins,
and Chadband, and the rest. Have we no Saints ? Plenty ; such as
our sanctified friend the young French workman who drivels in his
“ Bulletin de la Semaine.” Our saints are, as they profess to be, very
serious, but they must not fancy that those other saints are less serious
than themselves. What can be more serious than the idea of making
an offering of a wetting or a kick, especially a kick; which, if it
were offered to you, you would return ?
These considerations should teach us mutual charity and toleration.
But the question about the phoenix, Le Monde, remains to be answered.
What sort of a bird is it ? The same as the piece de resistance at the
Feast of St. Michael. The phoenix is a goose.
R. D. T.’s CONCERTS.
Several new performers are about to be added to the orchestra.
Amongst them we are authorised to mention:—
The man who fiddles with his watch-chain.
The man who harps on one string.
The man who blows his own trumpet.
The man who is up to the horns of a dilemma.
The man who knows the symbols of algebra and the triangles of Euclid.
The man who rings the changes.
The man who drums on the table.
The man who is fond of his Fife, and
Several artistes (in spectacles) with their musical glasses.
Scores of applicants have been refused, because they all wanted to
play the first fiddle, and a chorus could easily have been formed of those
who sang their own praises.
N.B. The lady violinist will appear in lutestring.
The Latest Thing out.—The Head Centre.
Vol. 49.
8