DOI issue:
December 7, 1878
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17733#0260
256
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[December 7, 1878.
family—the old Lady with a cap is Mrs. Aysfoed Synge of The
Wick, near here, one of the oldest families in the county"—and it
occurs to me one of the oldest Ladies in the county too—"and," I
ask, "the other funny old Lady with the "—I am just going to add,
"evident false front"—when he interrupts me gravely, "That is
my aunt, Mrs. Topton, who is staying here "—very glad' I didn't
say any more. He continues, " Hoshfobd, you know."
"He'snot an old county family, is he?" I ask, incredulously,
having hitherto only associated him with London.
'' Yes, very old county family. Hoshfoed came over with the
Aysfoed Synges." I thought he was going to say " with the Con-
queror." " The tall man with the eye-glass is Henby Sandilands,
a very old friend of mine." Glad I didn't venture on any personal
remark about Mm. "The thin elderly Gentleman with the bald
head is Atsfoed Synge, of The Wick—and the stout man he's
talking to is Pelkin Wadd, an ex-Master in Chancery."
I remark that I once knew a Wadd family in Sussex.
Josslyn resents this. I had evidently no business to know a
Wadd family in Sussex, who, apparently, were impostors, as these,
the Pelkin Wadds, have no relations anj'where out of this county—
in fact, never been out of Dampshire. It occurs to me that the
Pelkin Wades resemble the Christy Minstrels, who never perform out
of St. James's Hall,—and that all the other Wadds are counterfeits.
I wonder what the other Wadds say to this ? It appears that I am
among the representatives of all the oldest county families. Quite
a gathering of the Clans. Josslyn's serious and impressive manner
seems to imply that he feels what a responsibility he has incurred by
bringing together this valuable collection of old county families,
After going through the catalogue I almost expect him to add,
" Please not to touch the figures."
There is age upon them all except Hoshfobd and Mrs. Lawleigh
Byene, the former looking younger than he really is (I've known
him by sight for years), and the latter looking, it strikes me, older
than she really is; but still a Beauty.
A sudden shyness comes over me. But it is too late. I am led
up to Mrs. Lawleigh Byene. She is a fine, handsome, lustrous-
eyed lady in black velvet much lace, and sparkling diamonds,
a flaming crimson cap of satin, all crumpled as if some one had been
sitting on it by accident, and white gloves, with about sixteen
buttons, up to her elbows.
She is seated, and still engaged in conversation with the Crusty
Elderly Gentleman,—Rendlesham of Pikley.
If there is one ceremony more awkward than another, it is that
of introduction to the person you are to take in to dinner. To
begin with: it's not the choice of either party; your host is the
providence for the occasion. Then you know nothing of one another ;
you are utterly ignorant as to whether there is between you any
similarity of tastes, or some agreement of opinion. Perhaps one
may dislike everything the other fancies, and rice versa. Then
the necessity of introduction seems to imply to the Lady, "Look
here ! You won't have any dinner unless he takes you in, because
you can't go in alone." And much the same to the Gentleman, who
is made responsible for his companion's enjoyment during the
remainder of the evening.
The introduction is completed, Josslyn Dyke (who is really one of
the gravest, and, ordinarily, one of the most sensible men in the
world) stupidly adding, on leaving us, as a recommendation of me
to her favour, " He '11 amuse you, Mrs. Byene," whereat The Beauty
slightly elevates her dark eyebrows, and brings to bear on me the
full power of her electric lustrous eyes, as though expecting to see
me do something to amuse her on the spot, there and then. Stand on
my head perhaps, or swallow a paper-knife and bring it out of my
right ear. I know men who can do this, and, conversation failing,
I envy them the accomplishment.
{Happy Thought—-Must learn tricks with cards. Carry a pack in
my pocket, and, on being introduced, come to business at once with
the question, " Take a card—look at it: you 're sure you '11 know it
again?" &c. This would start a subject of conversation between
two utter strangers, and do away with all the wearisome twaddle
about the weather and the news.
However, as I haven't matured this plan, I can only protest feebly
against Josslyn Dyke's remark. But he doesn't stay to listen to it]
1 would protest, but Josslyn Dyke has gone.
_ I can only smile, inanely. I am painfully conscious of the utter
inanity of the smile, and sav,
" Well, it rather-"
But I don't get any further, as Old Crusty—I mean old Rendle-
sham of Pikley—resumes his conversation at the point where he
had dropped it, and Mrs. Lawleigh Byene turns her head towards
him and away from me, so that I can only stand before them and
listen to what they have to say to one another, which is all about
their county matters, which, as I am utterly ignorant on the subject,
have no sort of interest for me. I don't like to go away. I don't
like to stop. If there were a chair at hand, sitting down would give
me some occupation.
I am nervously aware of Mrs. Lawleigh Byrne's observing me
out of the corner of her eye. Perhaps at this moment I am fulfilling
my mission, and amusing her. I wish Old Crusty would retire.
The announcement of dinner breaks up the groups, and I have to
offer my arm to Mrs. Lawleigh Byene.
Which arm ?
{Happy Thought.—Watch my host, Josslyn Dyke,"and see which
arm he gives.]
I could have sworn I saw him 'give his right arm. I give mine.
Immediately afterwards I find I am the only person who has given
his right arm. Perhaps giving the left arm is one of the ancient
customs of the oldest county families. I apologise. Shall we
change ? Mrs. Lawleigh Byene appears a little annoyed at the
awkwardness. Our changing arms involves a delay of the procession,
which is arranged on some principle of county precedence, which in
my ignorance I violate by stepping gaily before old Pelkin Wadd,
the ex-Master in Chancery, with Mrs. Tupxon, Josslyn's false-
fronted Aunt, on his arm.
Mrs. Lawleigh Byene says, seriously, in an undertone to me,
" Thejr '11 never forgive me for this. We 're out of our place."
I try to reassure her by replying cheerfully that "we shall soon
be in our right place," meaning at dinner, but she evidently regards
this as levity, and the procession moves, silently and solemnly, into
the dining-room, where for a time, but only for a time, the gloom of
the Mote would have entirely disappeared, but for the sombre j)ic-
tures on the walls, and the impossibility, even here_, with all the
candles—" the thousand additional lamps —of throwing any gleam
of light into the dark bogie corners of this old Elizabethan dining-
room,—and but for, above all, the presence of Gool, the Phantom
Butler, and his carefully-selected band of Old County Waiters.
ORBY ET URBI.
etee all, the-
ology is one
thing, and
phraseology
another. Cri-
ticism may
keep clear of
the former
■ whilst ques-
tioning the
latter. Mr.,
late the
Dev., Oeby
Shipley ,
- ex - Ritualist
: Clergyman,
has, honest-
ly, at any
rate, become
a Roman
Catholic lay-
man. But he
proclaims in
the Times
that in de-
serting Can-
terbury for
Rome, he has
exercised
private judg-
ment for the
last time —■
by renounc-
ing it in submission to "Authority." Has he ? Suppose he should
ever fail to understand something in the language of the Authority he
has submitted to—and perhaps there are a few points on which he
may find its statements not perspicuous—will he not still have to
exercise private judgment in trying to make out and decide for
himself, as best he may, what "Authority" means?—Or will his
final renunciation of private judgment preclude in future any
attempt on his part to understand Authority's doubtful or disputable
language ? Has he absolutely made up his mind not to trouble
himself henceforth about the meaning of what he believes himself
to believe ? ,.
Does not everybody brought up in blind belief necessarily believe
in some Authority ? If that Authority is wrong, how can he believe
aright except by exercise of private judgment ? , .
Mr. Oeby Shipley considers himself to have exercised private
judgment in crediting—whilst he did credit—the doctrines of Ritual-
ism. Did he not credit them on what he considered Authority t Or
did he credit them only because they commended themselves tc his
personal mind and feelings ? Is judgment simply and solely by that
standard what he means by private judgment ? And has he now
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[December 7, 1878.
family—the old Lady with a cap is Mrs. Aysfoed Synge of The
Wick, near here, one of the oldest families in the county"—and it
occurs to me one of the oldest Ladies in the county too—"and," I
ask, "the other funny old Lady with the "—I am just going to add,
"evident false front"—when he interrupts me gravely, "That is
my aunt, Mrs. Topton, who is staying here "—very glad' I didn't
say any more. He continues, " Hoshfobd, you know."
"He'snot an old county family, is he?" I ask, incredulously,
having hitherto only associated him with London.
'' Yes, very old county family. Hoshfoed came over with the
Aysfoed Synges." I thought he was going to say " with the Con-
queror." " The tall man with the eye-glass is Henby Sandilands,
a very old friend of mine." Glad I didn't venture on any personal
remark about Mm. "The thin elderly Gentleman with the bald
head is Atsfoed Synge, of The Wick—and the stout man he's
talking to is Pelkin Wadd, an ex-Master in Chancery."
I remark that I once knew a Wadd family in Sussex.
Josslyn resents this. I had evidently no business to know a
Wadd family in Sussex, who, apparently, were impostors, as these,
the Pelkin Wadds, have no relations anj'where out of this county—
in fact, never been out of Dampshire. It occurs to me that the
Pelkin Wades resemble the Christy Minstrels, who never perform out
of St. James's Hall,—and that all the other Wadds are counterfeits.
I wonder what the other Wadds say to this ? It appears that I am
among the representatives of all the oldest county families. Quite
a gathering of the Clans. Josslyn's serious and impressive manner
seems to imply that he feels what a responsibility he has incurred by
bringing together this valuable collection of old county families,
After going through the catalogue I almost expect him to add,
" Please not to touch the figures."
There is age upon them all except Hoshfobd and Mrs. Lawleigh
Byene, the former looking younger than he really is (I've known
him by sight for years), and the latter looking, it strikes me, older
than she really is; but still a Beauty.
A sudden shyness comes over me. But it is too late. I am led
up to Mrs. Lawleigh Byene. She is a fine, handsome, lustrous-
eyed lady in black velvet much lace, and sparkling diamonds,
a flaming crimson cap of satin, all crumpled as if some one had been
sitting on it by accident, and white gloves, with about sixteen
buttons, up to her elbows.
She is seated, and still engaged in conversation with the Crusty
Elderly Gentleman,—Rendlesham of Pikley.
If there is one ceremony more awkward than another, it is that
of introduction to the person you are to take in to dinner. To
begin with: it's not the choice of either party; your host is the
providence for the occasion. Then you know nothing of one another ;
you are utterly ignorant as to whether there is between you any
similarity of tastes, or some agreement of opinion. Perhaps one
may dislike everything the other fancies, and rice versa. Then
the necessity of introduction seems to imply to the Lady, "Look
here ! You won't have any dinner unless he takes you in, because
you can't go in alone." And much the same to the Gentleman, who
is made responsible for his companion's enjoyment during the
remainder of the evening.
The introduction is completed, Josslyn Dyke (who is really one of
the gravest, and, ordinarily, one of the most sensible men in the
world) stupidly adding, on leaving us, as a recommendation of me
to her favour, " He '11 amuse you, Mrs. Byene," whereat The Beauty
slightly elevates her dark eyebrows, and brings to bear on me the
full power of her electric lustrous eyes, as though expecting to see
me do something to amuse her on the spot, there and then. Stand on
my head perhaps, or swallow a paper-knife and bring it out of my
right ear. I know men who can do this, and, conversation failing,
I envy them the accomplishment.
{Happy Thought—-Must learn tricks with cards. Carry a pack in
my pocket, and, on being introduced, come to business at once with
the question, " Take a card—look at it: you 're sure you '11 know it
again?" &c. This would start a subject of conversation between
two utter strangers, and do away with all the wearisome twaddle
about the weather and the news.
However, as I haven't matured this plan, I can only protest feebly
against Josslyn Dyke's remark. But he doesn't stay to listen to it]
1 would protest, but Josslyn Dyke has gone.
_ I can only smile, inanely. I am painfully conscious of the utter
inanity of the smile, and sav,
" Well, it rather-"
But I don't get any further, as Old Crusty—I mean old Rendle-
sham of Pikley—resumes his conversation at the point where he
had dropped it, and Mrs. Lawleigh Byene turns her head towards
him and away from me, so that I can only stand before them and
listen to what they have to say to one another, which is all about
their county matters, which, as I am utterly ignorant on the subject,
have no sort of interest for me. I don't like to go away. I don't
like to stop. If there were a chair at hand, sitting down would give
me some occupation.
I am nervously aware of Mrs. Lawleigh Byrne's observing me
out of the corner of her eye. Perhaps at this moment I am fulfilling
my mission, and amusing her. I wish Old Crusty would retire.
The announcement of dinner breaks up the groups, and I have to
offer my arm to Mrs. Lawleigh Byene.
Which arm ?
{Happy Thought.—Watch my host, Josslyn Dyke,"and see which
arm he gives.]
I could have sworn I saw him 'give his right arm. I give mine.
Immediately afterwards I find I am the only person who has given
his right arm. Perhaps giving the left arm is one of the ancient
customs of the oldest county families. I apologise. Shall we
change ? Mrs. Lawleigh Byene appears a little annoyed at the
awkwardness. Our changing arms involves a delay of the procession,
which is arranged on some principle of county precedence, which in
my ignorance I violate by stepping gaily before old Pelkin Wadd,
the ex-Master in Chancery, with Mrs. Tupxon, Josslyn's false-
fronted Aunt, on his arm.
Mrs. Lawleigh Byene says, seriously, in an undertone to me,
" Thejr '11 never forgive me for this. We 're out of our place."
I try to reassure her by replying cheerfully that "we shall soon
be in our right place," meaning at dinner, but she evidently regards
this as levity, and the procession moves, silently and solemnly, into
the dining-room, where for a time, but only for a time, the gloom of
the Mote would have entirely disappeared, but for the sombre j)ic-
tures on the walls, and the impossibility, even here_, with all the
candles—" the thousand additional lamps —of throwing any gleam
of light into the dark bogie corners of this old Elizabethan dining-
room,—and but for, above all, the presence of Gool, the Phantom
Butler, and his carefully-selected band of Old County Waiters.
ORBY ET URBI.
etee all, the-
ology is one
thing, and
phraseology
another. Cri-
ticism may
keep clear of
the former
■ whilst ques-
tioning the
latter. Mr.,
late the
Dev., Oeby
Shipley ,
- ex - Ritualist
: Clergyman,
has, honest-
ly, at any
rate, become
a Roman
Catholic lay-
man. But he
proclaims in
the Times
that in de-
serting Can-
terbury for
Rome, he has
exercised
private judg-
ment for the
last time —■
by renounc-
ing it in submission to "Authority." Has he ? Suppose he should
ever fail to understand something in the language of the Authority he
has submitted to—and perhaps there are a few points on which he
may find its statements not perspicuous—will he not still have to
exercise private judgment in trying to make out and decide for
himself, as best he may, what "Authority" means?—Or will his
final renunciation of private judgment preclude in future any
attempt on his part to understand Authority's doubtful or disputable
language ? Has he absolutely made up his mind not to trouble
himself henceforth about the meaning of what he believes himself
to believe ? ,.
Does not everybody brought up in blind belief necessarily believe
in some Authority ? If that Authority is wrong, how can he believe
aright except by exercise of private judgment ? , .
Mr. Oeby Shipley considers himself to have exercised private
judgment in crediting—whilst he did credit—the doctrines of Ritual-
ism. Did he not credit them on what he considered Authority t Or
did he credit them only because they commended themselves tc his
personal mind and feelings ? Is judgment simply and solely by that
standard what he means by private judgment ? And has he now