DOI issue:
January 9, 1869
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16883#0010
2
[January 9, 1869.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Members. Why should they have come, when, there was nothing to
oppose, except a beestly driving small rain ?
Mr. Dundas took the oath (we’ve only one little oath now) and
his seat for the Orkneys. These are islands of the north, and were
called Orcades by the Romans, but they were known to the ancients
before the circumnavigation of Britain by Agricola, who, as his name
implies, having been a husbandman, easily learnt to be a navigator, and
might have made railways, if he had thought of it.
Mr. Gladstone, Premier of England, and Member for Greenwich,
was loudly cheered on his entrance. We shall always think the better
of Greenwich for having made such good use of its new franchise, and
shall be happy to show our satisfaction by accepting any invitations to
meet pleasant people at either of the great fish-houses. By the way,
there has been a plentiful lack of imagination in the Greenwich cooks
lately, and we hereby order them to invent a Something a la Gladstone,
and let it be an excellent good thing, and let us have no humbugging
with old enemies under new names. Somebody says that Punch is a
proclaimed Epicure. So he is, but where did Epicurus place pleasure ?
In virtue. And is there no virtue in a good dinner ? If not—why does
it—or what is meant for it and never is—precede an appeal for a
Charity P Away, and vex not thou great Punch’s mind With thy shallow
wit, Yex not thou that creature’s mind, For thou canst not fathom it.
Various Ministers took the oath, but the Right Honourable John
Bright made affirmation strong as kiss of Holy Writ. This reminds
us of an American story, which has nothing whatever to do with Mr.
Bright’s case. A poll-clerk, fancying from a voter’s hat that he was
a Quaker, asked him whether he would, swear or affirm, to which the
voter, in a pleasant manner, replied, that he was disendowed if he cared
which.
On a new writ being moved for the County of Louth, which is, we
believe, somewhere in Ireland, but we should be louth to say we know
where, up and spoke
The Lord Bury, son and heir of the Earl of Albemarle, the
Lord of Quiddenham Hall. This frightful Revolutionist (mind you,
we don’t like it; read Carlyle, and see how at the beginning of the
French revolution certain young aristocrats who had been in America—
and Lord Bury has been in America, and we dare say will declare
that he is very happy indeed to have been there—began proposing to
abolish old customs—Bury, too—that has a funereal kind of sound)
this frightful Revolutionist, we say, inaugnrated the destruction of all
things by complaining of the inconvenience occasioned by the law
which compels the re-election of those who take office under the Crown.
He thought he should venture to move, hereafter, for the repeal of
that law.
Between ourselves, the rule, very proper when Sovereigns were
more despotic, and could force a Minister on the nation, has become
simply a foolish nuisance, when Ministers can hold office only by permis-
sion of Parliament. But then it was made m the days of the good Queen
Anne, and it would be disrespectful to the sainted memory of Mrs.
Trueman to repeat it. Besides, if you begin abolishing, when will
you leave off? It is clear that the spirit that would abolish an old rule
merely because it is useless and mischievous, would abolish the Throne
and the Altar, nay, the very Precession of the Equinoxes. The House
of Commons said nothing to the titled Revolutionist, but let us hope it
thought the more, like the Welshman’s Bubo, or Owl.
More new writs were issued, including one for South Derby, where
the vacancy has been caused by the second demise since the general
election. Eight more of the Administrators have got to issue
addresses, take long journeys in vile weather, make speeches, and
come home again, in obedience to the law of the good Mrs. Trueman.
Her correspondent, Duchess Freeman, would tell her, if they lived
now, that the law was nonsense, and if Sarah didn’t put a strong
word, such as disestablished, before the noun, her manners would be
shown to have mended in Elysium.
Nextly, we had some Notices of Motion, but they were mostly given
by new Members, whom the gentlemen in the gallery had not seen
before, and of course were not bound to know. There is a vast lot of
these in the Parliament, and it would be well, if each new man would
get his name legibly printed in large type, and paste (or gum) it upon
the top of his hat. The outside of his liat, we mean, Irish Members.
Then the reporters would notice him as he lifted his hat on rising (or
he might hold it up towards them for a moment) and his fine
oratory would not be set down to “ an honourable Member,” or to a
wrong person. Messrs. Hansard would, no doubt, print such a
thing on moderate terms, or an M.P. may come to Whitefriars, and
sit in our office while the MS. is being set up—only he must bring
his own cigars.
Of the notices, one was anent Local Taxation, one for the Legisla-
tion of Trades’ Unions (ha! spirit of Robespierre !), one for making
English and Scotch bankruptcies alike, one (this was for Mr. Torrens)
about the asylums for the sick poor, and one (this was by Mr. Lyster
O’Beirne) for leave to bring in a Bill to facilitate the acquisition of
small estates in Ireland. This is a very desirable object, and Mr.
O’Beirne may acquire a small one for us, if he will be so good. Or,
on second thoughts, a large one. And—we are ashamed to trouble
him—but would he make it in England, as we are desirous to reside
upon it, and do not care about crossing the Channel ? He shall come
and see us whenever he likes, nobody welcomer.
Minister Ayrton, Joint Secretary of the Treasury, then moved
that the House, at its rising, should adjourn until Tuesday the 16th
February. And being interrogated (we mean asked) as to whether
the meeting was for business, he made as brief reply as the American
General, in that capital new poem, when told that
“ Bat Bummer der Breitmann ish koldin’ der ford ! ”
He replied,
“ Yes.”
Then did such of the Commons of the Kingdom as had attended
disperse, without making any particular Revolution to speak of. But
we shall watch them, and prepare to bolt at any appearance of danger
to ourselves, or to the State.
SOBRIETY OF ELECTION.
The suggestion of the Right Honourable the President or the
Board of Trade, that the public-houses should be closed on the
nomination day at elections, deserves to be considered. There are,
perhaps, some constituencies in which a certain amount of drunken-
ness prevails, even amongst the class of British electors who cannot
afford to spend any of their hardly-earned wages in excess of drink.
Certainly, it might be in a great measure prevented by the closure of
the public-houses; but would not that be an ill compliment to the
toiling millions of this great country? It is sui’ely at the top of
society, as much as at the bottom, that we are to look for drunkenness,
and it would be an invidious distinction to close the public-houses
without closing also the private cellars, and the clubs.
A voter, who gets drunk at Election time, gets drunk on duty. He
unfits himself for the exercise of that exalted privilege which is the
birthright of every Briton above the residuum. For an elector to be so
drunk as not to be capable of giving the name of the candidate whom
he means to vote for, is to be drunk and incapable indeed; certainly,
to be incapable of performing his lofty constitutional function. Indeed
it may be held that any elector so drunk as not to be able to say, d is-
tinctly, “ British Constitution,” is politically drunk and incapable.
Suppose, then, gross drunkenness, apparent at the hustings, is sub-
jected by the Legislature to disfranchisement, temporary, or final.
On the one hand the public-houses might remain open, and the pub-
licans suffer no injury. On the other, constituencies would be weeded
of unworthy voters ; of course to the sole detriment of a bigoted and
stupid faction and to the unqualified advantage of the party of
enlightenment and progress.
CHINS AND CHIGNONS.
Moustache and beard we did not wear
When I was voung, days long ago ;
But modern girls no longer care
If swells have bristly mouths or no.
Not only shave not fogies old,
No good by shaving who could gain,
But gallants, in an age less cold.
Who would have shaved, nor shaved in vain,
Moustaches only in the way
With soup a fellow now can find ;
But if he will take soup he may:
At any rate the soup won’t mind.
Sparkle on the Bench.
We find, in the Era, the following piece of wit, emitted by the
Chairman of the Petty Sessions for the Enfield district of the Duchy of
Lancaster. A brace of rogues, male and female, had cheated a pub-
lican, and were sent for trial. The male requested that the female
might be released on bail, as he would be bound for her.
“ The Chairman. 0 yes. The prison walls will stand bail for both of you.”
True wit on the bench is so rare that Punch at once immortalises
this Chairman, and recommends him to Mr. Gladstone for Chancellor
of the Duchy. _
ABSCONDED, on Tuesday evening last, between the hours of eight
and ten, a Beautiful Big Baby, aged just eleven weeks. Had blue
eyes and a pink sash, and answers to the name of Trottums. Very learned
for its age. Knows who stole the donkey, and what sugar plums are made for.
Can recognise papa in the “ Run with the Rantoone.”—(7 ide Punch’s Alma-
nack for 1869.)
[January 9, 1869.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Members. Why should they have come, when, there was nothing to
oppose, except a beestly driving small rain ?
Mr. Dundas took the oath (we’ve only one little oath now) and
his seat for the Orkneys. These are islands of the north, and were
called Orcades by the Romans, but they were known to the ancients
before the circumnavigation of Britain by Agricola, who, as his name
implies, having been a husbandman, easily learnt to be a navigator, and
might have made railways, if he had thought of it.
Mr. Gladstone, Premier of England, and Member for Greenwich,
was loudly cheered on his entrance. We shall always think the better
of Greenwich for having made such good use of its new franchise, and
shall be happy to show our satisfaction by accepting any invitations to
meet pleasant people at either of the great fish-houses. By the way,
there has been a plentiful lack of imagination in the Greenwich cooks
lately, and we hereby order them to invent a Something a la Gladstone,
and let it be an excellent good thing, and let us have no humbugging
with old enemies under new names. Somebody says that Punch is a
proclaimed Epicure. So he is, but where did Epicurus place pleasure ?
In virtue. And is there no virtue in a good dinner ? If not—why does
it—or what is meant for it and never is—precede an appeal for a
Charity P Away, and vex not thou great Punch’s mind With thy shallow
wit, Yex not thou that creature’s mind, For thou canst not fathom it.
Various Ministers took the oath, but the Right Honourable John
Bright made affirmation strong as kiss of Holy Writ. This reminds
us of an American story, which has nothing whatever to do with Mr.
Bright’s case. A poll-clerk, fancying from a voter’s hat that he was
a Quaker, asked him whether he would, swear or affirm, to which the
voter, in a pleasant manner, replied, that he was disendowed if he cared
which.
On a new writ being moved for the County of Louth, which is, we
believe, somewhere in Ireland, but we should be louth to say we know
where, up and spoke
The Lord Bury, son and heir of the Earl of Albemarle, the
Lord of Quiddenham Hall. This frightful Revolutionist (mind you,
we don’t like it; read Carlyle, and see how at the beginning of the
French revolution certain young aristocrats who had been in America—
and Lord Bury has been in America, and we dare say will declare
that he is very happy indeed to have been there—began proposing to
abolish old customs—Bury, too—that has a funereal kind of sound)
this frightful Revolutionist, we say, inaugnrated the destruction of all
things by complaining of the inconvenience occasioned by the law
which compels the re-election of those who take office under the Crown.
He thought he should venture to move, hereafter, for the repeal of
that law.
Between ourselves, the rule, very proper when Sovereigns were
more despotic, and could force a Minister on the nation, has become
simply a foolish nuisance, when Ministers can hold office only by permis-
sion of Parliament. But then it was made m the days of the good Queen
Anne, and it would be disrespectful to the sainted memory of Mrs.
Trueman to repeat it. Besides, if you begin abolishing, when will
you leave off? It is clear that the spirit that would abolish an old rule
merely because it is useless and mischievous, would abolish the Throne
and the Altar, nay, the very Precession of the Equinoxes. The House
of Commons said nothing to the titled Revolutionist, but let us hope it
thought the more, like the Welshman’s Bubo, or Owl.
More new writs were issued, including one for South Derby, where
the vacancy has been caused by the second demise since the general
election. Eight more of the Administrators have got to issue
addresses, take long journeys in vile weather, make speeches, and
come home again, in obedience to the law of the good Mrs. Trueman.
Her correspondent, Duchess Freeman, would tell her, if they lived
now, that the law was nonsense, and if Sarah didn’t put a strong
word, such as disestablished, before the noun, her manners would be
shown to have mended in Elysium.
Nextly, we had some Notices of Motion, but they were mostly given
by new Members, whom the gentlemen in the gallery had not seen
before, and of course were not bound to know. There is a vast lot of
these in the Parliament, and it would be well, if each new man would
get his name legibly printed in large type, and paste (or gum) it upon
the top of his hat. The outside of his liat, we mean, Irish Members.
Then the reporters would notice him as he lifted his hat on rising (or
he might hold it up towards them for a moment) and his fine
oratory would not be set down to “ an honourable Member,” or to a
wrong person. Messrs. Hansard would, no doubt, print such a
thing on moderate terms, or an M.P. may come to Whitefriars, and
sit in our office while the MS. is being set up—only he must bring
his own cigars.
Of the notices, one was anent Local Taxation, one for the Legisla-
tion of Trades’ Unions (ha! spirit of Robespierre !), one for making
English and Scotch bankruptcies alike, one (this was for Mr. Torrens)
about the asylums for the sick poor, and one (this was by Mr. Lyster
O’Beirne) for leave to bring in a Bill to facilitate the acquisition of
small estates in Ireland. This is a very desirable object, and Mr.
O’Beirne may acquire a small one for us, if he will be so good. Or,
on second thoughts, a large one. And—we are ashamed to trouble
him—but would he make it in England, as we are desirous to reside
upon it, and do not care about crossing the Channel ? He shall come
and see us whenever he likes, nobody welcomer.
Minister Ayrton, Joint Secretary of the Treasury, then moved
that the House, at its rising, should adjourn until Tuesday the 16th
February. And being interrogated (we mean asked) as to whether
the meeting was for business, he made as brief reply as the American
General, in that capital new poem, when told that
“ Bat Bummer der Breitmann ish koldin’ der ford ! ”
He replied,
“ Yes.”
Then did such of the Commons of the Kingdom as had attended
disperse, without making any particular Revolution to speak of. But
we shall watch them, and prepare to bolt at any appearance of danger
to ourselves, or to the State.
SOBRIETY OF ELECTION.
The suggestion of the Right Honourable the President or the
Board of Trade, that the public-houses should be closed on the
nomination day at elections, deserves to be considered. There are,
perhaps, some constituencies in which a certain amount of drunken-
ness prevails, even amongst the class of British electors who cannot
afford to spend any of their hardly-earned wages in excess of drink.
Certainly, it might be in a great measure prevented by the closure of
the public-houses; but would not that be an ill compliment to the
toiling millions of this great country? It is sui’ely at the top of
society, as much as at the bottom, that we are to look for drunkenness,
and it would be an invidious distinction to close the public-houses
without closing also the private cellars, and the clubs.
A voter, who gets drunk at Election time, gets drunk on duty. He
unfits himself for the exercise of that exalted privilege which is the
birthright of every Briton above the residuum. For an elector to be so
drunk as not to be capable of giving the name of the candidate whom
he means to vote for, is to be drunk and incapable indeed; certainly,
to be incapable of performing his lofty constitutional function. Indeed
it may be held that any elector so drunk as not to be able to say, d is-
tinctly, “ British Constitution,” is politically drunk and incapable.
Suppose, then, gross drunkenness, apparent at the hustings, is sub-
jected by the Legislature to disfranchisement, temporary, or final.
On the one hand the public-houses might remain open, and the pub-
licans suffer no injury. On the other, constituencies would be weeded
of unworthy voters ; of course to the sole detriment of a bigoted and
stupid faction and to the unqualified advantage of the party of
enlightenment and progress.
CHINS AND CHIGNONS.
Moustache and beard we did not wear
When I was voung, days long ago ;
But modern girls no longer care
If swells have bristly mouths or no.
Not only shave not fogies old,
No good by shaving who could gain,
But gallants, in an age less cold.
Who would have shaved, nor shaved in vain,
Moustaches only in the way
With soup a fellow now can find ;
But if he will take soup he may:
At any rate the soup won’t mind.
Sparkle on the Bench.
We find, in the Era, the following piece of wit, emitted by the
Chairman of the Petty Sessions for the Enfield district of the Duchy of
Lancaster. A brace of rogues, male and female, had cheated a pub-
lican, and were sent for trial. The male requested that the female
might be released on bail, as he would be bound for her.
“ The Chairman. 0 yes. The prison walls will stand bail for both of you.”
True wit on the bench is so rare that Punch at once immortalises
this Chairman, and recommends him to Mr. Gladstone for Chancellor
of the Duchy. _
ABSCONDED, on Tuesday evening last, between the hours of eight
and ten, a Beautiful Big Baby, aged just eleven weeks. Had blue
eyes and a pink sash, and answers to the name of Trottums. Very learned
for its age. Knows who stole the donkey, and what sugar plums are made for.
Can recognise papa in the “ Run with the Rantoone.”—(7 ide Punch’s Alma-
nack for 1869.)