DOI Heft:
December 28, 1878
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17733#0293
December 28, 1878.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON
CHARIVARI.
289
BETWIXT CARDS AND CRACKERS.
voif r >fof ■ 3k
flM^d comes but once a year. _ Punch is
...j^fiBiP thankful for it. For Christmas has
y<-.i^3^r'' .V taken to leaving so much pasteboard,
£v7 t " ~"' that should tis fatherly visit come
/( ^ JLjif 'IF^^sSw^P^' twice a year Punch would have to
■ 'if ^Pw^pl^^^^^^^'^r^ UP outside his_ door, as people do
M^^IEtf '^^Jl')!^ after their wedding-advertisements,
ifKSS^Slf «StHW <Sf!/ T^*" cShristmas. BoaFd " used to be
^^©Mil llMlK'l Smffll>=*-^n3r^ a favourite personification. It was in
'—^^^^^^^MJ M*~~ ' the habit of groaning under roast beef,
—^^^^^^^^^t^fe^^'tf!--turkey, and chine, mince-pie, and
- ^^^^^^W^^^WpiTf!1'i1 plum-pudding. Now the " Christmas
t— ':<.'.\' ■■ '' Paste-Board" world seem a fitter em-
bodiment of the festive season ; though
it should not be the " Paste-Board " that ought to groan, but those who have to
struggle against its ever-growing encroachments on our purses, and demands
on our admiration.
For this alarmingly increasing pack of Christmas cards has grown in quality
as much as in quantity. They are so pretty, it seems a shame to grumble at
them. Here is Punch bound to confess himself pleased, even while he protests
he can hardly hold his head above the rising tide of charming pictures that keeps
flowing in on him. First comes Marcus Ward, who deals the trump-cards of
the Christmas pack, the most delicate and dainty in colour and design, whether
of arabesque, and flower, and winged thing of earth and air and fairy-land, or
graceful figure, or group in coquettish old world attire—an endless variety, on
the whole, in admirable taste; and—unexpected improvement—with verses
appended,_ which are not vulgar, or commonplace, but often as graceful and elegant
as the designs they accompany.
Then there is De la Hue, scarce a shade in elegance and variety behind
Ward, though Paneh must protest, parenthetically, against nudities at Christ-
mas time. It is too cold for them, if there were no other reason. He sends a
greater variety of Christmas Gifts—not only Cards, but the daintiest Pocket-
Books and Diaries, with Pussia bindings and perfumed pages, for pretty fingers
to record graceful items of girlish outlay, or tender memoranda, till Cupid gives
place to Hymen, and marriage brings house-bills and domestic entries. And
for these, too, De la Ptte has fitting books of record; or, if we need more than
he can supply, is there not Letts, with his large family of Diaries, ranging—
" fine by degrees and beautifully less "—from the folio giant of the desk to the
tiniest waistcoat-pocket companion? How record even by name the list of
other card-makers, who play off their Christmas showers on Punch's devoted
head—Ackermann, with his graceful groups of Cupidons at play, and Rothe
with his flowers, and \ his series of picturesquely-
costumed Seasons, and Payne, the Aylesbury photo-
grapher, whose specialty is nosegays from nature, and
Harding with his sporting figures of the olden time, and
ptlMMEL with his perfumed pack. In short, their name
is Legion.
And if we turn in despair from the rush and rain of
Cards, it is but to encounter the still more alarming raid
of the Cossacks, with Captain Cadman in command, and
Lieutenant Tom Smith under him. As for Captain
Cadman's Cossacks, they betray their predatory habits
by their dress ; like Palstaff's recruits, they seem to
have robbed heaven and earth, the present and the past,
to fit them out. They even assume skins, and shells,
and feathers, spoils of birds, beasts,j and fishes; they
creep into boots, and curl up in baskets, and crouch in
flowers; they peep out of Little Red Riding Hood's
cloak and grin from under Father Christmas's holly
wreath ; and, Cossack-like, they carry as great a variety
of plunder in their pockets, as of clothes on their backs.
What between cards and crackers, Punch sits con-
founded, and can only cry out to his over-generous
Christmas contributors, "Hold! enough!"—and more
than enough by a great deal.
He has a waste-paper basket for superfluous corre-
spondence, but what waste-paper basket could accom-
modate this deluge of Christmas Cards and Crackers
—even were it in his heart to transfer such pretty
things to such a receptacle! Ha, a happy thought!
Suppose he passes the overflow on to the Children's
Hospitals!
SLIDES FOR MR, PUNCH'S MAGIC LANTERN.
Public inauguration of Cleopatra's Needle by the Lord
Mayor and Sheriffs in their State palanquins, borne by
athletic young stockbrokers in the prime of early man-
hood. Maskelyne and Cooke (from the Egyptian
Hall), hoisting the Union Jack on the point of the
Needle, assisted by the crew of H.M.S. Pinafore and
Band of the Royal Marines conducted by Dr. Sullivan.
Lord Beaconsfield, Lord Lytton, the Emperor of
Russia, and Sbzere Ali smoking hookahs in a magni-
ficent howdah on a splendidly caparisoned white ele-
phant. Fifty County Members on each side of the
elephant, wearing dark blue (garter) ribbons round their
hats, and carrying banners inscribed "Peace with
Honour," The Cabinet following behind on dromedaries,
—Lord Cranbrook distributing India Pickle, Lord John
Manners scattering "inspired" telegrams, Sir Stafford
Northcote doing sums on an enormous slate, and the
Private - Secretaries flinging largess—the Order of the
Bath and Suez Canal Shares—to an enthusiastic crowd.
Mr. Gladstone by moonlight, in the solitudes of
Greenwich Park, cutting down the Upas-tree with the
silver axe presented to him on his birthday.
The Dean and Chapter, Sir Edmund Beckett, Mr.
Haweis, Dr. Stainer, and Mr. Penrose (the Cathedral
Architect), in the Belfry chamber of St. Paul's, ringing a
merry Christmas peal. The ' College youths " looking on,
criticising the performance with campanological acumen,
over a bowl of hot elder wine kindly supplied by the
Baroness Burdett Coutts.
The Lord Chancellor, the Lord Chief Baron, the
Lord Chief Justice, and Lord Penzance, playing a
rubber under the mistletoe suspended from the centre of
Westminster Hall.
Final Tableau. Scene of general amiability, good
fellowship, and philanthropy, in the Venetian Parlour at
the Mansion House. The Emperor of Russia and the
Sultan seated, side by side, on an Ottoman, and Sir
Austen Layard handing them coffee. The Pope and th
King of Italy exchanging Christmas Cards. Rev. Orby
Shipley exchanging ideas with the President of the
Wesleyan Conference. The Editors of the Globe and the
Echo playing backgammon. Lord Beaconsfield passing
the Loving Cup to Mr. Gladstone. Lord Lawrence
offering Lord Lytton alight. Sir WilfridLawson on
a sofa between Barclay and Perkins. Captain Burnaby
laughing over Punch's Ride to Khiva with Mr. Cham-
berlain. Mr. Ruskin helping Mr. Whistler to etch
the party. The Old Year introducing the New Year to
the Lord Mayor and the assembled company, and Mr.
Punch kissing Britannia under the mistletoe.
vol. lxxv. c c
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON
CHARIVARI.
289
BETWIXT CARDS AND CRACKERS.
voif r >fof ■ 3k
flM^d comes but once a year. _ Punch is
...j^fiBiP thankful for it. For Christmas has
y<-.i^3^r'' .V taken to leaving so much pasteboard,
£v7 t " ~"' that should tis fatherly visit come
/( ^ JLjif 'IF^^sSw^P^' twice a year Punch would have to
■ 'if ^Pw^pl^^^^^^^'^r^ UP outside his_ door, as people do
M^^IEtf '^^Jl')!^ after their wedding-advertisements,
ifKSS^Slf «StHW <Sf!/ T^*" cShristmas. BoaFd " used to be
^^©Mil llMlK'l Smffll>=*-^n3r^ a favourite personification. It was in
'—^^^^^^^MJ M*~~ ' the habit of groaning under roast beef,
—^^^^^^^^^t^fe^^'tf!--turkey, and chine, mince-pie, and
- ^^^^^^W^^^WpiTf!1'i1 plum-pudding. Now the " Christmas
t— ':<.'.\' ■■ '' Paste-Board" world seem a fitter em-
bodiment of the festive season ; though
it should not be the " Paste-Board " that ought to groan, but those who have to
struggle against its ever-growing encroachments on our purses, and demands
on our admiration.
For this alarmingly increasing pack of Christmas cards has grown in quality
as much as in quantity. They are so pretty, it seems a shame to grumble at
them. Here is Punch bound to confess himself pleased, even while he protests
he can hardly hold his head above the rising tide of charming pictures that keeps
flowing in on him. First comes Marcus Ward, who deals the trump-cards of
the Christmas pack, the most delicate and dainty in colour and design, whether
of arabesque, and flower, and winged thing of earth and air and fairy-land, or
graceful figure, or group in coquettish old world attire—an endless variety, on
the whole, in admirable taste; and—unexpected improvement—with verses
appended,_ which are not vulgar, or commonplace, but often as graceful and elegant
as the designs they accompany.
Then there is De la Hue, scarce a shade in elegance and variety behind
Ward, though Paneh must protest, parenthetically, against nudities at Christ-
mas time. It is too cold for them, if there were no other reason. He sends a
greater variety of Christmas Gifts—not only Cards, but the daintiest Pocket-
Books and Diaries, with Pussia bindings and perfumed pages, for pretty fingers
to record graceful items of girlish outlay, or tender memoranda, till Cupid gives
place to Hymen, and marriage brings house-bills and domestic entries. And
for these, too, De la Ptte has fitting books of record; or, if we need more than
he can supply, is there not Letts, with his large family of Diaries, ranging—
" fine by degrees and beautifully less "—from the folio giant of the desk to the
tiniest waistcoat-pocket companion? How record even by name the list of
other card-makers, who play off their Christmas showers on Punch's devoted
head—Ackermann, with his graceful groups of Cupidons at play, and Rothe
with his flowers, and \ his series of picturesquely-
costumed Seasons, and Payne, the Aylesbury photo-
grapher, whose specialty is nosegays from nature, and
Harding with his sporting figures of the olden time, and
ptlMMEL with his perfumed pack. In short, their name
is Legion.
And if we turn in despair from the rush and rain of
Cards, it is but to encounter the still more alarming raid
of the Cossacks, with Captain Cadman in command, and
Lieutenant Tom Smith under him. As for Captain
Cadman's Cossacks, they betray their predatory habits
by their dress ; like Palstaff's recruits, they seem to
have robbed heaven and earth, the present and the past,
to fit them out. They even assume skins, and shells,
and feathers, spoils of birds, beasts,j and fishes; they
creep into boots, and curl up in baskets, and crouch in
flowers; they peep out of Little Red Riding Hood's
cloak and grin from under Father Christmas's holly
wreath ; and, Cossack-like, they carry as great a variety
of plunder in their pockets, as of clothes on their backs.
What between cards and crackers, Punch sits con-
founded, and can only cry out to his over-generous
Christmas contributors, "Hold! enough!"—and more
than enough by a great deal.
He has a waste-paper basket for superfluous corre-
spondence, but what waste-paper basket could accom-
modate this deluge of Christmas Cards and Crackers
—even were it in his heart to transfer such pretty
things to such a receptacle! Ha, a happy thought!
Suppose he passes the overflow on to the Children's
Hospitals!
SLIDES FOR MR, PUNCH'S MAGIC LANTERN.
Public inauguration of Cleopatra's Needle by the Lord
Mayor and Sheriffs in their State palanquins, borne by
athletic young stockbrokers in the prime of early man-
hood. Maskelyne and Cooke (from the Egyptian
Hall), hoisting the Union Jack on the point of the
Needle, assisted by the crew of H.M.S. Pinafore and
Band of the Royal Marines conducted by Dr. Sullivan.
Lord Beaconsfield, Lord Lytton, the Emperor of
Russia, and Sbzere Ali smoking hookahs in a magni-
ficent howdah on a splendidly caparisoned white ele-
phant. Fifty County Members on each side of the
elephant, wearing dark blue (garter) ribbons round their
hats, and carrying banners inscribed "Peace with
Honour," The Cabinet following behind on dromedaries,
—Lord Cranbrook distributing India Pickle, Lord John
Manners scattering "inspired" telegrams, Sir Stafford
Northcote doing sums on an enormous slate, and the
Private - Secretaries flinging largess—the Order of the
Bath and Suez Canal Shares—to an enthusiastic crowd.
Mr. Gladstone by moonlight, in the solitudes of
Greenwich Park, cutting down the Upas-tree with the
silver axe presented to him on his birthday.
The Dean and Chapter, Sir Edmund Beckett, Mr.
Haweis, Dr. Stainer, and Mr. Penrose (the Cathedral
Architect), in the Belfry chamber of St. Paul's, ringing a
merry Christmas peal. The ' College youths " looking on,
criticising the performance with campanological acumen,
over a bowl of hot elder wine kindly supplied by the
Baroness Burdett Coutts.
The Lord Chancellor, the Lord Chief Baron, the
Lord Chief Justice, and Lord Penzance, playing a
rubber under the mistletoe suspended from the centre of
Westminster Hall.
Final Tableau. Scene of general amiability, good
fellowship, and philanthropy, in the Venetian Parlour at
the Mansion House. The Emperor of Russia and the
Sultan seated, side by side, on an Ottoman, and Sir
Austen Layard handing them coffee. The Pope and th
King of Italy exchanging Christmas Cards. Rev. Orby
Shipley exchanging ideas with the President of the
Wesleyan Conference. The Editors of the Globe and the
Echo playing backgammon. Lord Beaconsfield passing
the Loving Cup to Mr. Gladstone. Lord Lawrence
offering Lord Lytton alight. Sir WilfridLawson on
a sofa between Barclay and Perkins. Captain Burnaby
laughing over Punch's Ride to Khiva with Mr. Cham-
berlain. Mr. Ruskin helping Mr. Whistler to etch
the party. The Old Year introducing the New Year to
the Lord Mayor and the assembled company, and Mr.
Punch kissing Britannia under the mistletoe.
vol. lxxv. c c