DOI issue:
December 22, 1866
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16878#0258
250
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[December 22, 1866,
LOVE-WRITING ON THE WALL.
ertainly it is with some slight sorrow that we see daily
a falling off in our mural literature. Time was when
every square yard of eligible brick and mortar obtained
renown by some popular legend inscribed upon it, and
though dead men tell no tales, dead walls produced some
charming fictions, and Town boys who delight to run and
read, could boast of their familiarity with the choicest
gems of mercantile romance. Some eccentric traders had
their advertisements literally lithographed, and when
walking we have been startled by a flagstone at our feet
solemnly charging us to tolerate no more grey hair, but
boldly stand the hazard of the dye, and old ladies were
startled at every turning by horned monsters advertising
the Smithfield Cattle Show.
Omnibuses now carry on a brisk trade in the diffusion
of commercial knowledge, and our Merchant Tailors pay
liberally for their board and its lodging. Journals of every
stamp erect columns of praise more or less resembling
columns of smoke in support of some mammoth emporium,
and even blacking-manufacturers lack courage as of yore
to whiten their own reputation and outstrip one another,
by a long chalk.
There is strange to say, a certain romantic class of
advertisers who have never yet put themselves, like
Pyramus and Thisbe, into direct communication with a
“ sweet and lovely wall.” Hitherto impatient and im-
petuous lovers have allowed their ardour to be confined
within the narrow limits of a Press which never had
much real sympathy for them—confiding their pangs to a
Printer’s mirthful imp, and mingling soft sighs with
editorial groans. Why should these unhappy people not
employ our suburban bridges to announce their tender
sufferings and echo their lonely wail ? How deeply in-
teresting would our walks around the metropolis become,
if we saw on every wall such gushing effusions as these :—“ To Widows, &c. Minds wanted. Age no object. Address, Cyril Crowsfoot,
Esq.,” and so on. Or “ Matrimonial Alliance. No fortune required. Address, Hugh Bigg Ninie, Esq.,” and so on.
A hollow heart wearing a mask would be a charming illustration to one advertisement, while the other might be felicitously adorned by a
fool in a ring.
JUDGES ALWAYS AT FAULT.
The report of an assault case which occurred in the Court of Common
Pleas, before Lord Chief Justice Bovlll and a special jury, the
other day, contains the subjoined passage, commencing with a state-
ment given in evidence:—
“ The defendant would not let the cabman into the house, saying, ‘ Don t put
your foot inside my door, or you will have to pay fifty bob.’ {Laughter.)
“The Lord Chief Justice. Fifty what?
“ Mr. Stratton (Examining Counsel). It means shillings, my Lord.”
There is one particular wherein the learning of learned Judges appears
to be commonly at fault. Their Lordships in general evince a remark-
able unacquaintance with those synonyms which, amongst the masses,
are usually substituted for words which have a place in Johnson's Dic-
tionary. In short, no Judge ever seems to understand slang. As, for
instance, when a witness is undergoing an examination, and there
ensues a colloquy of this sort:—
Counsel. And then you said, what ?
Witness. And then I said, “ Here’s me and Bill agin you two and
that other bloke.”
Judge. What does he say. Brother Gabbles ?
Counsel. Bloke, my Lud ; a word in use among the humbler classes.
It means man.
Judge. Homo or vir ?
Counsel {grinning). Vir, my Lud.
Judge. Very well; go on.
Counsel {to witness). And then you said, “ Here’s me and Bill agin
you two and that other bloke.” Well, and what did the prisoner say ?
Witness. He said I’m good for two-and-a-kick.
Judge. Two-and-a-kick?
Counsel. Half-a-crown, my Lud; two-and-sixpence. A kick, in the
language of persons of the witness’s station in life, means sixpence.
Judge. Sixpence. Oh ! Sixpence. A kick—sixpence.
Counsel. It also signifies, your Ludship, that part of a glass bottle
which a French Minister described by saying that the bottom entered
the interior. But sixpence is the witness’s meaning.
Judge. I understand.
Counsel {to Witness). When the prisoner said he was good for two-
and-a-kick, did he do anything ?
Witness. He put down the money.
Counsel. He put down the money. Was any observation made in
the prisoner’s hearing ?
Witness. Bill said, “ Who stole the moke ? ”
Judge. Stole the what ? Stole the bloke—the man ? How could he
steal the bloke ?
Counsel. Moke, my Lud, not bloke. A moke is what costermongers
call a donkey.
Judge. Really the language of that class of persons is very extra-
ordinary.
When the case has been completed, and the Judge sums up, he is
pretty sure to make some remark on the strange expressions which he
has heard, speaking of them as though they had then occurred to his
ear for the first time. As thus :—“ And then, Gentlemen, the witness,
as you heard, used certain words, which perhaps may be new to you.
He spoke of a bloke, and he mentioned a moke. Now, Gentlemen,
bloke and moke are words that sound very much alike, but you must
know they are not convertible terms ; that is to say, they don’t mean
the same thing : for bloke, as we are informed by the learned counsel,
whose explanation of these terms is, I have no doubt, as correct as it
is clear, signifies man, and moke donkey. Not but that some men
may be termed donkeys in a certain sense ; but that is not the sense in
which the witness used the word moke. Well; and then, the phrase
two-and-a-kick. Gentlemen, means, as you heard, not anything involving
a peculiar assault, but a sum of money—the sum of—eh, brother
Gabbles ?—two shillings and sixpence.”
Whether the learned Judges whom such words and phrases as those
above instanced apparently puzzle, never possessed any knowledge of
them at all, or have simply unlearned them, is a question that may be
asked. There is somewhat pleasing in the thought that the purity of
the ermine exerts on its wearer a mysterious impulse that expels from
the memory every word of a grotesque and undignified character which
it may have been charged with during its experience at the bar. A
certain propriety, too, appears in a Judge’s innocence of thieves’
Latin.
Hard But Natural.
On Mr. Walpole’s name being submitted to the Prince of
Wales among the guests invited to meet him in his Norfolk shooting-
parties, the Prince objected, on the ground that Mr. Walpole would
be certain to “ wipe his eye.”
Medical.—It has been observed that in northern countries the cold
invariably proceeds to extremities.
I
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[December 22, 1866,
LOVE-WRITING ON THE WALL.
ertainly it is with some slight sorrow that we see daily
a falling off in our mural literature. Time was when
every square yard of eligible brick and mortar obtained
renown by some popular legend inscribed upon it, and
though dead men tell no tales, dead walls produced some
charming fictions, and Town boys who delight to run and
read, could boast of their familiarity with the choicest
gems of mercantile romance. Some eccentric traders had
their advertisements literally lithographed, and when
walking we have been startled by a flagstone at our feet
solemnly charging us to tolerate no more grey hair, but
boldly stand the hazard of the dye, and old ladies were
startled at every turning by horned monsters advertising
the Smithfield Cattle Show.
Omnibuses now carry on a brisk trade in the diffusion
of commercial knowledge, and our Merchant Tailors pay
liberally for their board and its lodging. Journals of every
stamp erect columns of praise more or less resembling
columns of smoke in support of some mammoth emporium,
and even blacking-manufacturers lack courage as of yore
to whiten their own reputation and outstrip one another,
by a long chalk.
There is strange to say, a certain romantic class of
advertisers who have never yet put themselves, like
Pyramus and Thisbe, into direct communication with a
“ sweet and lovely wall.” Hitherto impatient and im-
petuous lovers have allowed their ardour to be confined
within the narrow limits of a Press which never had
much real sympathy for them—confiding their pangs to a
Printer’s mirthful imp, and mingling soft sighs with
editorial groans. Why should these unhappy people not
employ our suburban bridges to announce their tender
sufferings and echo their lonely wail ? How deeply in-
teresting would our walks around the metropolis become,
if we saw on every wall such gushing effusions as these :—“ To Widows, &c. Minds wanted. Age no object. Address, Cyril Crowsfoot,
Esq.,” and so on. Or “ Matrimonial Alliance. No fortune required. Address, Hugh Bigg Ninie, Esq.,” and so on.
A hollow heart wearing a mask would be a charming illustration to one advertisement, while the other might be felicitously adorned by a
fool in a ring.
JUDGES ALWAYS AT FAULT.
The report of an assault case which occurred in the Court of Common
Pleas, before Lord Chief Justice Bovlll and a special jury, the
other day, contains the subjoined passage, commencing with a state-
ment given in evidence:—
“ The defendant would not let the cabman into the house, saying, ‘ Don t put
your foot inside my door, or you will have to pay fifty bob.’ {Laughter.)
“The Lord Chief Justice. Fifty what?
“ Mr. Stratton (Examining Counsel). It means shillings, my Lord.”
There is one particular wherein the learning of learned Judges appears
to be commonly at fault. Their Lordships in general evince a remark-
able unacquaintance with those synonyms which, amongst the masses,
are usually substituted for words which have a place in Johnson's Dic-
tionary. In short, no Judge ever seems to understand slang. As, for
instance, when a witness is undergoing an examination, and there
ensues a colloquy of this sort:—
Counsel. And then you said, what ?
Witness. And then I said, “ Here’s me and Bill agin you two and
that other bloke.”
Judge. What does he say. Brother Gabbles ?
Counsel. Bloke, my Lud ; a word in use among the humbler classes.
It means man.
Judge. Homo or vir ?
Counsel {grinning). Vir, my Lud.
Judge. Very well; go on.
Counsel {to witness). And then you said, “ Here’s me and Bill agin
you two and that other bloke.” Well, and what did the prisoner say ?
Witness. He said I’m good for two-and-a-kick.
Judge. Two-and-a-kick?
Counsel. Half-a-crown, my Lud; two-and-sixpence. A kick, in the
language of persons of the witness’s station in life, means sixpence.
Judge. Sixpence. Oh ! Sixpence. A kick—sixpence.
Counsel. It also signifies, your Ludship, that part of a glass bottle
which a French Minister described by saying that the bottom entered
the interior. But sixpence is the witness’s meaning.
Judge. I understand.
Counsel {to Witness). When the prisoner said he was good for two-
and-a-kick, did he do anything ?
Witness. He put down the money.
Counsel. He put down the money. Was any observation made in
the prisoner’s hearing ?
Witness. Bill said, “ Who stole the moke ? ”
Judge. Stole the what ? Stole the bloke—the man ? How could he
steal the bloke ?
Counsel. Moke, my Lud, not bloke. A moke is what costermongers
call a donkey.
Judge. Really the language of that class of persons is very extra-
ordinary.
When the case has been completed, and the Judge sums up, he is
pretty sure to make some remark on the strange expressions which he
has heard, speaking of them as though they had then occurred to his
ear for the first time. As thus :—“ And then, Gentlemen, the witness,
as you heard, used certain words, which perhaps may be new to you.
He spoke of a bloke, and he mentioned a moke. Now, Gentlemen,
bloke and moke are words that sound very much alike, but you must
know they are not convertible terms ; that is to say, they don’t mean
the same thing : for bloke, as we are informed by the learned counsel,
whose explanation of these terms is, I have no doubt, as correct as it
is clear, signifies man, and moke donkey. Not but that some men
may be termed donkeys in a certain sense ; but that is not the sense in
which the witness used the word moke. Well; and then, the phrase
two-and-a-kick. Gentlemen, means, as you heard, not anything involving
a peculiar assault, but a sum of money—the sum of—eh, brother
Gabbles ?—two shillings and sixpence.”
Whether the learned Judges whom such words and phrases as those
above instanced apparently puzzle, never possessed any knowledge of
them at all, or have simply unlearned them, is a question that may be
asked. There is somewhat pleasing in the thought that the purity of
the ermine exerts on its wearer a mysterious impulse that expels from
the memory every word of a grotesque and undignified character which
it may have been charged with during its experience at the bar. A
certain propriety, too, appears in a Judge’s innocence of thieves’
Latin.
Hard But Natural.
On Mr. Walpole’s name being submitted to the Prince of
Wales among the guests invited to meet him in his Norfolk shooting-
parties, the Prince objected, on the ground that Mr. Walpole would
be certain to “ wipe his eye.”
Medical.—It has been observed that in northern countries the cold
invariably proceeds to extremities.
I