DOI issue:
October 3, 1874
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16939#0145
October 3, 1874.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
137
Eresses, with panelled fronts, which looked like wainscot, so that I
ad no trouble in keeping my rooms tidy, but could just put out of
sight any needlework or newspapers or other odds and ends of litter
which might he lying about. Those presses were “ a place for
everything,” and I put “everything in that place;” and that, I
know, is the golden rule of tidiness.
When we were coming over, my mistress told me we should find
the usual offices (as the House Agents say) for us servants. I can’t
say much for the usual offices, which were all of stone with plaster
floors, and so dark that some of ’em looked no better than beer-
cellars with the doors off. But the kitchen made up for all. There
was a large garden, with very high walls, all round the house, and
the kitchen opened into this garden. Close to the kitchen-door was
a door leading from the garden into a wood, and through the wood
was a road leading to the front entrance. When you had got out-
side the garden-door you couldn’t be seen from the house. ‘ ‘ 0, how
nice! ” 1 said to Cook when I saw this. “ 0, how nice ! Why we
shall he able to slip out of evenings without disturbing poor
Mistress.” And so we did too, I promise you.
I daresay a good many people would have called the place dull,
for there was nothing but a hill with woods and corn-fields in front,
and a valley with woods and corn-fields at the hack; but I always
say that, when the London season is over, it must he dull anywhere.
Elvaston Place in September is no more like Elvaston Place in June
than a lodge in a garden of cucumbers is like the Crystal Palace on
Foresters’ Day: and dulness in a new place isn’t half so weary and
worriting as dulness in an old one, wnere you sit listening for the
knocks that don’t come, and thinking of the young men that used to
trim up the window gardens, and bring the flowers and the glass for
the supper-table, and help to hand the ices. So ! I’ve always said
that I never would live with a family that didn’t go away regularly
as soon as the season was over. “ Don’t ask me,” I’ve often said,
“ to live with a family as will take furnished lodgings at Margate
for two months, and leave me to keep house in an empty street with
all the blinds down. I like to be able to say, ‘ When I was at
Scarborough the year the Prince took the fever’ ; or ‘ When I was
at Brighton last November ’; or ‘ When we had Lord Burleigh’s
place in Hertfordshire ! ’ ” This sounds well, and lets people know
what kind of place a girl expects when she is thinking of bettering
herself.
ROYAL VISITORS’ GUIDE FOR 1875.
he Sultan is staying at the
Turkish Bath in Brighton.
The Emperor of Austria
is seen every morning on
Margate Jetty.
Marshal Macmahon is at
Dublin.
Don Carlos is at Herne
Bay, enjoying the sea-
bathing.
The King of Italy is deer-
stalking in the Highlands of
Scotland.
The Czar of Russia is at
Broadstairs. The appearance
of His Majesty on the sands
is the signal for the gathering
of immense crowds of visitors.
The Emperor of Germany,
the Prince Imperial of
Germany, accompanied by
Prince Yon Bismarck and.
Count Yon Moltke, are at
Dorking, from which town they make almost daily excursions into
the adjacent country.
The King of Greece is at Edinburgh—a place which His
Majesty is said to describe as “ quite the modern Athens.”
And the Shah of Persia is staying as a self-invited guest at the
establishment of Madame Tussaud in Baker Street.
Satisfactory Solution.
Facts in Geology and Egyptology,
Very momentous as touching chronology,
Seem to run counter to facts of Theology.
Very well, never mind. What if they do ?
These facts, and those facts as well, may be true.
Truth and truth ne’er can at variance be :
All truths will some day he proved to agree.
Seemingly different truths, let us say,
Are equally true in a different way.
PUNCH'S SPECIAL CORRESPONDENTS.
The following letter reached our Office, attached to the wing of a
carrier-pigeon. The signature of the writer is sufficient to verify
it. He, the most truthful of all travellers, never met an old savage
at Khiva, never saw a dwarf and dog fight at Hanley, never brought
home one of Pharaoh’s chariot-wheels from the Red Sea, as a
birthday gift to his mother. Perfect accuracy, combined with a
simple descriptive and narrative style, makes him the best of Special
Correspondents; and we can guarantee the exactitude of his letter
just received from the unexplored Empire of
AMAZONIA.
Saint Penthesilea’s Day.
It was, Mr. Punch, with some disinclination that I left my loving
wife, and my stable of Houyhnhms, to make a fifth and, I hope, a
last voyage. But your commands must be obeyed ; so I went forth
in a steamship, manufactured for me by Mr. Bessemer and
Mr. Read, which can be worked by a crew of one, to avoid mutiny.
I was that crew of one. I victualled the ship with homoeopathic
pills of ox and deer, one box warranted to contain a hecatomb, and
with small phials of essence of brandy, each holding a condensed
hogshead, I steamed away from Falmouth Harbour, exactly a
hundred and seven (Gordian) knots an hour by the barometer,
E.S.E. by N.N.W. on a great circle. The great circle I used was
my daughter Polly’s iron hoop, which she drives to school between
the people’s legs. This is one reason (if I may pause to make a
scientific remark) why bow-legged people abound in Wapping.
[At this point it becomes necessary to omit a few thousand pages
of the honest Captain’s log. He will, however, be besieged by pub-
lishers for a complete record of his travels, when he returns. They
will run after him with blank cheques, to he filled up for any
amount—a generous habit, which seems almost peculiar to the
London publisher.]
When I was washed ashore [a harrowing shipwreck is here
omitted] I found myself in a pleasant open green with large trees
upon it. I went forward slowly, being somewhat bruised and tired,
and having swallowed many gallons of a liquid I have never learnt
to like; namely, salt water. The country seemed beautiful, but I
saw no signs of habitation ; and at that moment I longed for food
and drink, and to dry my apparel. Suddenly I met a person dressed
in a blue silk tunic and white satin trousers, and wearing on her
head (for it was a she, and this is a country of shes) a cap with a
jewel and feather in it.
“Stop, or I’ll run you through!” she cried, drawing a sword
and pointing it at me. Her accents were so musical I knew she did
not mean it.
[At this point our valued Correspondent becomes prolix, from two
causes—he likes to describe at length his attempt to flirt with this
forward young minx in Bloomer costume, and he also calculates on
getting a guinea a word for all he writes. So we pass on to his
interview with the Queen.]
Her Majesty, who is of high stature and commanding appearance,
received me favourably. It is etiquette to approach her kneeling,
and licking the dust from the floor. I always adhere to the
customs of the country. The quantity of dust I had swallowed
uncomplainingly caused Her Majesty to smile.
“ I am sure you are a very good husband, Captain Gulliver,”
she said.
My heart and mouth were too full for a reply. She graciously
proceeded:
“Here we have no husbands. All men are slaves. We regard
them as inferior animals, with just a slight glimmer of reason.
They are bought and sold like cattle, and compelled to work in
their various ways. This is the highest form of civilisation, and
will, in time, be the custom of the world.”
This seemed likely to be the worst of my adventures. To escape
from the spiteful Lilliputians and the terrible sons and daughters of
Brobdingnag, and then to fall among the Amazons! 0 Glumdal-
clitch, that you were here to take that Queen by her hair and drown
her in a slop-basin!
I dissembled. I spoke as fluently as I could on the wisdom of the
Queen of Amazonia. I expressed my delight at being a slave, my
belief that all men ought to be slaves. I expressed my admiration
of Her Majesty’s wisdom—and still more of her personal beauty.
She has commanded me to dine with her. I must still dissemble.
In another letter I hope to tell you something of the Metropolis
of Amazonia, its Cathedral, its University, and all other matters
which the well-informed traveller has to record. The male popula-
tion of the place are kept in excellent order, and crime is entirely
unknown. If a man takes a drop too much, he is bastinadoed, or
carbonadoed, or something. I must try and be temperate dining
with the Queen; but I suppose she won’t transgress the laws of
hospitality. I am very thirsty.
Yours to command,
Lemuel Gulliver.
Vol. 67.
5—2
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
137
Eresses, with panelled fronts, which looked like wainscot, so that I
ad no trouble in keeping my rooms tidy, but could just put out of
sight any needlework or newspapers or other odds and ends of litter
which might he lying about. Those presses were “ a place for
everything,” and I put “everything in that place;” and that, I
know, is the golden rule of tidiness.
When we were coming over, my mistress told me we should find
the usual offices (as the House Agents say) for us servants. I can’t
say much for the usual offices, which were all of stone with plaster
floors, and so dark that some of ’em looked no better than beer-
cellars with the doors off. But the kitchen made up for all. There
was a large garden, with very high walls, all round the house, and
the kitchen opened into this garden. Close to the kitchen-door was
a door leading from the garden into a wood, and through the wood
was a road leading to the front entrance. When you had got out-
side the garden-door you couldn’t be seen from the house. ‘ ‘ 0, how
nice! ” 1 said to Cook when I saw this. “ 0, how nice ! Why we
shall he able to slip out of evenings without disturbing poor
Mistress.” And so we did too, I promise you.
I daresay a good many people would have called the place dull,
for there was nothing but a hill with woods and corn-fields in front,
and a valley with woods and corn-fields at the hack; but I always
say that, when the London season is over, it must he dull anywhere.
Elvaston Place in September is no more like Elvaston Place in June
than a lodge in a garden of cucumbers is like the Crystal Palace on
Foresters’ Day: and dulness in a new place isn’t half so weary and
worriting as dulness in an old one, wnere you sit listening for the
knocks that don’t come, and thinking of the young men that used to
trim up the window gardens, and bring the flowers and the glass for
the supper-table, and help to hand the ices. So ! I’ve always said
that I never would live with a family that didn’t go away regularly
as soon as the season was over. “ Don’t ask me,” I’ve often said,
“ to live with a family as will take furnished lodgings at Margate
for two months, and leave me to keep house in an empty street with
all the blinds down. I like to be able to say, ‘ When I was at
Scarborough the year the Prince took the fever’ ; or ‘ When I was
at Brighton last November ’; or ‘ When we had Lord Burleigh’s
place in Hertfordshire ! ’ ” This sounds well, and lets people know
what kind of place a girl expects when she is thinking of bettering
herself.
ROYAL VISITORS’ GUIDE FOR 1875.
he Sultan is staying at the
Turkish Bath in Brighton.
The Emperor of Austria
is seen every morning on
Margate Jetty.
Marshal Macmahon is at
Dublin.
Don Carlos is at Herne
Bay, enjoying the sea-
bathing.
The King of Italy is deer-
stalking in the Highlands of
Scotland.
The Czar of Russia is at
Broadstairs. The appearance
of His Majesty on the sands
is the signal for the gathering
of immense crowds of visitors.
The Emperor of Germany,
the Prince Imperial of
Germany, accompanied by
Prince Yon Bismarck and.
Count Yon Moltke, are at
Dorking, from which town they make almost daily excursions into
the adjacent country.
The King of Greece is at Edinburgh—a place which His
Majesty is said to describe as “ quite the modern Athens.”
And the Shah of Persia is staying as a self-invited guest at the
establishment of Madame Tussaud in Baker Street.
Satisfactory Solution.
Facts in Geology and Egyptology,
Very momentous as touching chronology,
Seem to run counter to facts of Theology.
Very well, never mind. What if they do ?
These facts, and those facts as well, may be true.
Truth and truth ne’er can at variance be :
All truths will some day he proved to agree.
Seemingly different truths, let us say,
Are equally true in a different way.
PUNCH'S SPECIAL CORRESPONDENTS.
The following letter reached our Office, attached to the wing of a
carrier-pigeon. The signature of the writer is sufficient to verify
it. He, the most truthful of all travellers, never met an old savage
at Khiva, never saw a dwarf and dog fight at Hanley, never brought
home one of Pharaoh’s chariot-wheels from the Red Sea, as a
birthday gift to his mother. Perfect accuracy, combined with a
simple descriptive and narrative style, makes him the best of Special
Correspondents; and we can guarantee the exactitude of his letter
just received from the unexplored Empire of
AMAZONIA.
Saint Penthesilea’s Day.
It was, Mr. Punch, with some disinclination that I left my loving
wife, and my stable of Houyhnhms, to make a fifth and, I hope, a
last voyage. But your commands must be obeyed ; so I went forth
in a steamship, manufactured for me by Mr. Bessemer and
Mr. Read, which can be worked by a crew of one, to avoid mutiny.
I was that crew of one. I victualled the ship with homoeopathic
pills of ox and deer, one box warranted to contain a hecatomb, and
with small phials of essence of brandy, each holding a condensed
hogshead, I steamed away from Falmouth Harbour, exactly a
hundred and seven (Gordian) knots an hour by the barometer,
E.S.E. by N.N.W. on a great circle. The great circle I used was
my daughter Polly’s iron hoop, which she drives to school between
the people’s legs. This is one reason (if I may pause to make a
scientific remark) why bow-legged people abound in Wapping.
[At this point it becomes necessary to omit a few thousand pages
of the honest Captain’s log. He will, however, be besieged by pub-
lishers for a complete record of his travels, when he returns. They
will run after him with blank cheques, to he filled up for any
amount—a generous habit, which seems almost peculiar to the
London publisher.]
When I was washed ashore [a harrowing shipwreck is here
omitted] I found myself in a pleasant open green with large trees
upon it. I went forward slowly, being somewhat bruised and tired,
and having swallowed many gallons of a liquid I have never learnt
to like; namely, salt water. The country seemed beautiful, but I
saw no signs of habitation ; and at that moment I longed for food
and drink, and to dry my apparel. Suddenly I met a person dressed
in a blue silk tunic and white satin trousers, and wearing on her
head (for it was a she, and this is a country of shes) a cap with a
jewel and feather in it.
“Stop, or I’ll run you through!” she cried, drawing a sword
and pointing it at me. Her accents were so musical I knew she did
not mean it.
[At this point our valued Correspondent becomes prolix, from two
causes—he likes to describe at length his attempt to flirt with this
forward young minx in Bloomer costume, and he also calculates on
getting a guinea a word for all he writes. So we pass on to his
interview with the Queen.]
Her Majesty, who is of high stature and commanding appearance,
received me favourably. It is etiquette to approach her kneeling,
and licking the dust from the floor. I always adhere to the
customs of the country. The quantity of dust I had swallowed
uncomplainingly caused Her Majesty to smile.
“ I am sure you are a very good husband, Captain Gulliver,”
she said.
My heart and mouth were too full for a reply. She graciously
proceeded:
“Here we have no husbands. All men are slaves. We regard
them as inferior animals, with just a slight glimmer of reason.
They are bought and sold like cattle, and compelled to work in
their various ways. This is the highest form of civilisation, and
will, in time, be the custom of the world.”
This seemed likely to be the worst of my adventures. To escape
from the spiteful Lilliputians and the terrible sons and daughters of
Brobdingnag, and then to fall among the Amazons! 0 Glumdal-
clitch, that you were here to take that Queen by her hair and drown
her in a slop-basin!
I dissembled. I spoke as fluently as I could on the wisdom of the
Queen of Amazonia. I expressed my delight at being a slave, my
belief that all men ought to be slaves. I expressed my admiration
of Her Majesty’s wisdom—and still more of her personal beauty.
She has commanded me to dine with her. I must still dissemble.
In another letter I hope to tell you something of the Metropolis
of Amazonia, its Cathedral, its University, and all other matters
which the well-informed traveller has to record. The male popula-
tion of the place are kept in excellent order, and crime is entirely
unknown. If a man takes a drop too much, he is bastinadoed, or
carbonadoed, or something. I must try and be temperate dining
with the Queen; but I suppose she won’t transgress the laws of
hospitality. I am very thirsty.
Yours to command,
Lemuel Gulliver.
Vol. 67.
5—2