DOI issue:
June 8, 1867
DOI Page / Citation link: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16879#0238
232
TUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[June 8, 1867.
PEEPS AT PARIS.
PEEP THE ELEVENTH.
have adjudicated upon
the pianos, and
havedecidedupon
Messrs. Broad-
avood & Sons as
the Prizemen.
You should have
heard me trying
my celebrated
tune on one fin-
ger, by Avhich I
tested the merits
of the different in-
struments. Lum-
PYRAAV LOUEY,
who was present,
for a very short
time, said “III ay
plew cur jer pwee
supportay ; ” in
English, “ It is
more than I can
bear.” I observed
tears in the eyes
of several Commissioners, not to mention the Crowned Heads who had
been attracted to the spot by the sweet sounds, which could be heard
in almost any part, of Legsposissiong.
I am sorry for Collard, but if Broadwood receives the garter and
collar, then he ’ll be garter’d and collar’d. This is my latest mo. Say
it at dinner anywhere, and see how it goes. Talking of that (ong
frarnsay, arppropo) I am thinking of letting out jokes for the season.
Bong mows of th zpremmyair clas, ten shillings each per night; jer desprees,
nine shillings for one turn at a dinner-table ; jerdymows, or puns, six
and eightpence an evening, from ten till twelve, a reduction made on
taking a quantity. A legal question arises here in my judicial mind.
Could I prosecute a person for “taking ” a joke ? No, L think not,,—
only for keeping it and using it.
Receive the assurance of my highest consideration for larjong, which
you sent me by circular note. My tailor is also pleased, so is my
haberdasher (such a Dasher as he is too! this is a jerdymo) whose
grey shirtings might otherwise have been brought down with sorrow
to the grave.
My last new tie is the admiration of all Parry. Whenever I write
specially about Parry you may put it in a separate Parry-graph. (This
is a sort of jerdyspree-aveck-jerdymo.)
In consequence of my admirable reports on Pickles, which have been
preserved (bong mo) in the archives of this great Beehive (jerdymo, this)
of an Egsposissiong, the Commissioners appointed me Special Grand
Juror on Platinum Boilers. I accepted the office because I had re-
cently formed an acquaintance with a very nice young gentleman from
Manchester, who, 1 had reason to believe, was the very man to be
thoroughly up in the question of Platinum Boilers. So I asked him to
dinner, and he came, as he said, with pleasure. At what point in the
Danquet the Platinum subject came up I don’t know, but 1 fancy from
my headache, and generally nervous state this morning, that our con-
versation must have been carried on with great energy. Several
glasses, I find, have been broken, and the kongseairgsh, who lives in the
kongseairgsharee down-stairs, received several complaints about the
noise o catryaim, my rooms, from the lodgers o dersyaim, troyseaim, a
o sankyaim. (Sankyaim is spelt in Erench cinquieme, and means fifth
floor.)
I do not recollect what he said about Platinum Boilers. I leave off
for to-day. To the Egsposissiong.
Next day.—My Manchester friend is a humbug. He did say he
knew all about Platinum Boilers, and so I prepared my note book and
catechised him thus. (I append the examination in full, and give his
name privately to yoxi, so that you may be warned against applying to
liim for information.)
Q. What is a Platinum Boiler ?
A. A machine for boiling Platinum.
Q. What is Platinum ?
A. Platinum is—but you won’t understand if I do tell you.
Q. Yes, I will; what is Platinum ?
A. Well, it’s a sort of a new thingummy, you know, which will in
lime supersede the higher class of medals (query metals), and to
describe it scientifically- [Here he described it scientifically.
Q. Oh, indeed, thank you, much obliged. Now, what is a Boiler ?
A. A Boiler ? oh, a fire is a boiler: a kettle is a machine for boiling,
a saucepan is the same—boiled fowls, you know.
Q. Precisely : and a Platinum Boiler is ?-
A. A boiler made ot Platinum.
Q. Then you do not boil Platinum in a Platinum Boiler ?
A. I don’t—you may, if you like.
Q. You do not appear to me to know much about Platinum Boilers ?
A. As much as you do.
Q. I admit that I know nothing about them.
A. No more do I.
Q. But I heard you were brought up in Manchester ?
A. So I was.
Q. Where ?
A. Police Court, and fined five shillings.
Moral. Never lean on a broken reed when you want to know any-
thing about Platinum Boilers.
I have, however, furnished the Commissioners of that department
with my decision on the subject. I find that to award prizes a thorough
(if any) knowledge of your subject is not required. Silence, a frown, a
shrug, compression of lips, a short “um,” “ah,” “oh,” with per-
petually jotting down hieroglyphical memoranda in a pocket-book (to
which you can always safely refer anybody) will accomplish all that’s
! necessary. But, above everything, silence and a pocket-book. (Do
not put the above secret before the public, and oblige Peeper the
Great.)
Ler Prangse Armterryarl has been unwell. I am glad to say
| he is all right again. On his arrival from San Klu I called, of course,
upon the dear little chap.
“ Mong Prangse Armperryarl,” says I, on one knee, and the toe
of my right leg pointing gracefully outwards; “ Kommong voo portay
voo,par sir tom? (i.e. “ How are you by this time ?”)
“ Tray, beeang,” he replied. “Ay, voo?”
“ Mwaw ?” I responded, “ kusee, kusee,” which ought to mean,
“ But, so-so.” Somehow I don’t think it does.
“ Jer sweesongsharntay dervoo vwaw,” he returned, and so ended the
reception as far as the public is concerned. But to my promenade.
Lobsairvartwaw, or the Observatory of Paris, is well worth a visit at
midday. Insist upon their showing you the moon and principal stars.
Produce your order; and if you meet with any further opposition,
threaten that you will tell Lumpyraw.
Go to the Hotel days Arnvarleed, that is, Hotel des Invalides.
I forgot, in recounting the best hotels in Parry, to mention Lotel
days Arnvarleed; that is, HHotel des Invalides; much patronised
by valetudinarians and convalescents. I get my information second-
hand from a friend who knows Parry well, as I have neither dined,
nor stayed there myself. The charges here are very moderate, and
there is but one objection; namely, that as an invalid you are
subject to a sort of quarantine. I mean that all recognised invalids
(no shams) in Parry are obliged to dress in cocked-hats and a kind of
naval uniform with a sword attached. It is a remnant of an old custom.
The old custom was, in ancient Parry, to kill an invalid whenever you
met one. But in order that he shouldn’t be allowed to go'out of the
world without some fun for his money, every invalid was provided with
a sword, which, however, in many cases he was not strong enough to
draw. So they still keep to costume, like our blue-coat boys do. It
is the only hotel in Europe, or anywhere else, where the visitors are
obliged to wear a peculiar dress.
I do not know what the rule is as regards ladies. I will ascertain.
An English visitor will do well to attend the Law Courts in the
P'allayd Juiceteece. A complicated case well argued by leading counsel
before an able Jooge (that is, Judge), is an admirable method of passing
a couple of hours, of acquiring a knowledge of the niceties of French
jurisprudence, and the idioms of the French language. All the
Arvokars (Barristers) wear caps, gowns, bands, and no wigs, and have
in general the appearance of very busy men who are going to wash
when they get home.
I am going to give a Bal Marskay in my room. Don’t reprehend me
for extravagance. I have only issued invitations to three or four
people who won’t know one another in masks. I shall hire an organ.
Among my guests I shall probably observe L-d Cow-ey, Lumpyr-av,
Larmperrartre-ce, and Abdul Azzizn’t, the Sult-n. I am to be
photographed in the dress of Louey Carthorse, ler Grong Mon-nark.
There is a guide to Paris coming out at the end of this month by
sixty writers, prefaced by Victor Hugo. They have gone to press
without any contribution from me, although of course they waited until
the last moment. I couldn’t consent, as I have my own little work
(in addition to our own Paris for the English), arntitulay Parry Poorl
Poshe, or Pocket Paris, in a hundred-and-twenty diamond volumes.
Spectacles (ten-horse power) and case sold with each volume. Orders
will be received immediately here by me only. No money returned.
The Canoe Club, led by Rob Roy Macgregor oh ! meet on the Sane in
June. I called at the Tweellyrees to offer a few lessons to Lumpyraav
in paddling his own canoe (he has got one), but III nettay par shayllwee ;
that is, “ He wasn’t at home.” An English actor is coming here io
play in English the eccentric Dundreary. The English, here won’t
patronise it because it is English, and they prefer to do in Parry as
Parry doos ; the Americans won’t for the same reason; the Parishioners
won’t because they depreciate all English acting, and wouldn’t under-
stand Lord Dundreary’s amusing inanities. Charles Mathews’s
TUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[June 8, 1867.
PEEPS AT PARIS.
PEEP THE ELEVENTH.
have adjudicated upon
the pianos, and
havedecidedupon
Messrs. Broad-
avood & Sons as
the Prizemen.
You should have
heard me trying
my celebrated
tune on one fin-
ger, by Avhich I
tested the merits
of the different in-
struments. Lum-
PYRAAV LOUEY,
who was present,
for a very short
time, said “III ay
plew cur jer pwee
supportay ; ” in
English, “ It is
more than I can
bear.” I observed
tears in the eyes
of several Commissioners, not to mention the Crowned Heads who had
been attracted to the spot by the sweet sounds, which could be heard
in almost any part, of Legsposissiong.
I am sorry for Collard, but if Broadwood receives the garter and
collar, then he ’ll be garter’d and collar’d. This is my latest mo. Say
it at dinner anywhere, and see how it goes. Talking of that (ong
frarnsay, arppropo) I am thinking of letting out jokes for the season.
Bong mows of th zpremmyair clas, ten shillings each per night; jer desprees,
nine shillings for one turn at a dinner-table ; jerdymows, or puns, six
and eightpence an evening, from ten till twelve, a reduction made on
taking a quantity. A legal question arises here in my judicial mind.
Could I prosecute a person for “taking ” a joke ? No, L think not,,—
only for keeping it and using it.
Receive the assurance of my highest consideration for larjong, which
you sent me by circular note. My tailor is also pleased, so is my
haberdasher (such a Dasher as he is too! this is a jerdymo) whose
grey shirtings might otherwise have been brought down with sorrow
to the grave.
My last new tie is the admiration of all Parry. Whenever I write
specially about Parry you may put it in a separate Parry-graph. (This
is a sort of jerdyspree-aveck-jerdymo.)
In consequence of my admirable reports on Pickles, which have been
preserved (bong mo) in the archives of this great Beehive (jerdymo, this)
of an Egsposissiong, the Commissioners appointed me Special Grand
Juror on Platinum Boilers. I accepted the office because I had re-
cently formed an acquaintance with a very nice young gentleman from
Manchester, who, 1 had reason to believe, was the very man to be
thoroughly up in the question of Platinum Boilers. So I asked him to
dinner, and he came, as he said, with pleasure. At what point in the
Danquet the Platinum subject came up I don’t know, but 1 fancy from
my headache, and generally nervous state this morning, that our con-
versation must have been carried on with great energy. Several
glasses, I find, have been broken, and the kongseairgsh, who lives in the
kongseairgsharee down-stairs, received several complaints about the
noise o catryaim, my rooms, from the lodgers o dersyaim, troyseaim, a
o sankyaim. (Sankyaim is spelt in Erench cinquieme, and means fifth
floor.)
I do not recollect what he said about Platinum Boilers. I leave off
for to-day. To the Egsposissiong.
Next day.—My Manchester friend is a humbug. He did say he
knew all about Platinum Boilers, and so I prepared my note book and
catechised him thus. (I append the examination in full, and give his
name privately to yoxi, so that you may be warned against applying to
liim for information.)
Q. What is a Platinum Boiler ?
A. A machine for boiling Platinum.
Q. What is Platinum ?
A. Platinum is—but you won’t understand if I do tell you.
Q. Yes, I will; what is Platinum ?
A. Well, it’s a sort of a new thingummy, you know, which will in
lime supersede the higher class of medals (query metals), and to
describe it scientifically- [Here he described it scientifically.
Q. Oh, indeed, thank you, much obliged. Now, what is a Boiler ?
A. A Boiler ? oh, a fire is a boiler: a kettle is a machine for boiling,
a saucepan is the same—boiled fowls, you know.
Q. Precisely : and a Platinum Boiler is ?-
A. A boiler made ot Platinum.
Q. Then you do not boil Platinum in a Platinum Boiler ?
A. I don’t—you may, if you like.
Q. You do not appear to me to know much about Platinum Boilers ?
A. As much as you do.
Q. I admit that I know nothing about them.
A. No more do I.
Q. But I heard you were brought up in Manchester ?
A. So I was.
Q. Where ?
A. Police Court, and fined five shillings.
Moral. Never lean on a broken reed when you want to know any-
thing about Platinum Boilers.
I have, however, furnished the Commissioners of that department
with my decision on the subject. I find that to award prizes a thorough
(if any) knowledge of your subject is not required. Silence, a frown, a
shrug, compression of lips, a short “um,” “ah,” “oh,” with per-
petually jotting down hieroglyphical memoranda in a pocket-book (to
which you can always safely refer anybody) will accomplish all that’s
! necessary. But, above everything, silence and a pocket-book. (Do
not put the above secret before the public, and oblige Peeper the
Great.)
Ler Prangse Armterryarl has been unwell. I am glad to say
| he is all right again. On his arrival from San Klu I called, of course,
upon the dear little chap.
“ Mong Prangse Armperryarl,” says I, on one knee, and the toe
of my right leg pointing gracefully outwards; “ Kommong voo portay
voo,par sir tom? (i.e. “ How are you by this time ?”)
“ Tray, beeang,” he replied. “Ay, voo?”
“ Mwaw ?” I responded, “ kusee, kusee,” which ought to mean,
“ But, so-so.” Somehow I don’t think it does.
“ Jer sweesongsharntay dervoo vwaw,” he returned, and so ended the
reception as far as the public is concerned. But to my promenade.
Lobsairvartwaw, or the Observatory of Paris, is well worth a visit at
midday. Insist upon their showing you the moon and principal stars.
Produce your order; and if you meet with any further opposition,
threaten that you will tell Lumpyraw.
Go to the Hotel days Arnvarleed, that is, Hotel des Invalides.
I forgot, in recounting the best hotels in Parry, to mention Lotel
days Arnvarleed; that is, HHotel des Invalides; much patronised
by valetudinarians and convalescents. I get my information second-
hand from a friend who knows Parry well, as I have neither dined,
nor stayed there myself. The charges here are very moderate, and
there is but one objection; namely, that as an invalid you are
subject to a sort of quarantine. I mean that all recognised invalids
(no shams) in Parry are obliged to dress in cocked-hats and a kind of
naval uniform with a sword attached. It is a remnant of an old custom.
The old custom was, in ancient Parry, to kill an invalid whenever you
met one. But in order that he shouldn’t be allowed to go'out of the
world without some fun for his money, every invalid was provided with
a sword, which, however, in many cases he was not strong enough to
draw. So they still keep to costume, like our blue-coat boys do. It
is the only hotel in Europe, or anywhere else, where the visitors are
obliged to wear a peculiar dress.
I do not know what the rule is as regards ladies. I will ascertain.
An English visitor will do well to attend the Law Courts in the
P'allayd Juiceteece. A complicated case well argued by leading counsel
before an able Jooge (that is, Judge), is an admirable method of passing
a couple of hours, of acquiring a knowledge of the niceties of French
jurisprudence, and the idioms of the French language. All the
Arvokars (Barristers) wear caps, gowns, bands, and no wigs, and have
in general the appearance of very busy men who are going to wash
when they get home.
I am going to give a Bal Marskay in my room. Don’t reprehend me
for extravagance. I have only issued invitations to three or four
people who won’t know one another in masks. I shall hire an organ.
Among my guests I shall probably observe L-d Cow-ey, Lumpyr-av,
Larmperrartre-ce, and Abdul Azzizn’t, the Sult-n. I am to be
photographed in the dress of Louey Carthorse, ler Grong Mon-nark.
There is a guide to Paris coming out at the end of this month by
sixty writers, prefaced by Victor Hugo. They have gone to press
without any contribution from me, although of course they waited until
the last moment. I couldn’t consent, as I have my own little work
(in addition to our own Paris for the English), arntitulay Parry Poorl
Poshe, or Pocket Paris, in a hundred-and-twenty diamond volumes.
Spectacles (ten-horse power) and case sold with each volume. Orders
will be received immediately here by me only. No money returned.
The Canoe Club, led by Rob Roy Macgregor oh ! meet on the Sane in
June. I called at the Tweellyrees to offer a few lessons to Lumpyraav
in paddling his own canoe (he has got one), but III nettay par shayllwee ;
that is, “ He wasn’t at home.” An English actor is coming here io
play in English the eccentric Dundreary. The English, here won’t
patronise it because it is English, and they prefer to do in Parry as
Parry doos ; the Americans won’t for the same reason; the Parishioners
won’t because they depreciate all English acting, and wouldn’t under-
stand Lord Dundreary’s amusing inanities. Charles Mathews’s