Punch (79.1880)

October 9, 1880.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

165

THE RATCATCHER TO HIS SWEETHEART.

I’ve bought you a dog, as I said ;

Your taste in this line will be gratified.

Just look at him, Jenny dear maid;

The dog, like my promise, is ratified.

Ratti-fied.

ROUND ABOUT TOWN.

The Crystal Palace.

When an “Intelligent Foreigner” who has never crossed the
Channel, talks sneeringly of London, it is always possible to silence
him with “Ah! but you know not Syd-en-ham I ” In Town the
place is regarded with equal veneration. Were it seriously sug-
gested to demolish the Crystal Palace, the papers would be deluged
with letters protesting against the desecration. The “Wonder of
the Nineteenth Century” would be lauded to the skies as the“ School
of Nations” and the “ Stronghold of the Beautiful and the True.”
It cannot he doubted, therefore, that the successor to the greatest
of Great Exhibitions is an object of respectful admiration both at
home and abroad.

Full of this pleasant thought, I ran down to Sydenham, a few days
since, to freshen up my intellectual faculties in the midst of the
treasures of England’s grandest creation. On arriving by the
entrance from the High Level Station, the first thing I saw was a
sweet-stuff manufactory (presided over by a genial-looking gentle-
man in a cook’s cap) nestling with some stone lions in the bosom of
the Egyptian Court. The first thing I heard (spoken by a check-
taker surrounded by placards) was “ Pay here for the animals—only
threepence—the finest Show in the Palace ! ” Rather shocked by
these symptoms of irreverent familiarity, I walked quickly away,
and immediately tumbled over a miscellaneous collection of busts
mounted on pedestals. These portraits in plaster seemed to be
arranged in no particular order. Statesmen, soldiers, lawyers,
authors, and savants were jumbled together anyhow. For instance,
in one dark corner I found in mournful company, cheek by jowl, Sir

G. Cobnewall Lewis, Sir
Roderick Mtjrchison,
Martin Farqdhar Tup-
per, Richard Cobden, the
Duke of Cambridge (at the
age of thirty), and the Hero
of Trafalgar. In another
part of the building colossal
statues of Lord Lawrence,
Sir Henry Havelock, and
a nameless Nobleman who
had insisted on being
“taken” with his coat-of-
arms, were mounting guard
over two cases of stuffed
firds and a hair-dresser’s shop. Seemingly the Directors had become
possessed, somehow or other, with a job lot of “ celebrities,” and did
not know what to do with them. Thus it was that great men gazed at
me from all sorts of odd corners. I felt that I could not buy a penny
bun without meeting a stucco likeness of Plato next the Refresh-
ment-counter, and knew intuitively that if I ascended the Water
Tower, a bust of Mr. Manns, the Musical Conductor, or a full-length
statue of Mr. Tompkins, the famous engineer, would probably be
perched, on the summit, waiting to welcome me.

Turning my back upon the “Screen of Kings and Queens,”
which was serving as an entrance to “a table-d'hute dinner” and
a. low-priced “tea,” I hurried towards the “Courts” that of old

were the attractions of the Palace. I found that some of them
had been handed over to tradesmen to be converted into shops
as “branch establishments to Town houses.” The remainder had
been mixed up with cloak-rooms, and were quite empty. I seemed
to be walking through a city of the dead. I only met one person
—a boy in the Alhambra, who was stealthily eating a jam-tart,
imagining, apparently, that in the desert he had chosen he was
safe from pursuit.

I now left the Palace for the terrace. Here I found evidence
that the Directors at one time must have contemplated creating some
Zoological Gardens. A vague placard announced “ this way to the
bear pit,” and some cages against a dead wall contained a melancholy
eagle, a surly buzzard, and a pair of blase doves. Rathar depressed
by this “very Unhappy Family,” I returned to
the main building, to make the acquaintance of
a morose cockatoo, who received my well-in-
tentioned overtures of “ Pretty Dick,” with un-
mistakable ill-will. Hastily beating a retreat,
and disregarding numerous invitations on pla-
cards to “Please take a ticket of my weight,”

I ascended a gallery into “the Technological
Museum.” On entering I found some photo-
graphs of battle-scenes, a glass case containing
the head of “ the Scandinavian elk or moose deer,”
the model of a lifeboat, an enormous map of the
North Pole, a box full of the component parts of
“ sodium or common salt,” and lastly, a window
labelled “Illustrations of the Customs and Products of Modern
Egypt.” Altogether the specimens seemed to have been arranged
on the same eccentric plan as the collection of plaster celebrities.
The Directors appeared to have said of each exhibit, “Here!
the Refreshment Contractor won’t have this in his department, so
take it off at once to the Technological Museum, and let’s have no
more bother about it! ”

The remainder of the building consisted of one-tenth Picture-
Gallery to nine-tenths Soho Bazaar. I found that I could buy toys,
soap, ladies’ dresses, cartes-de-visite of “professional beauties,”
books, and crockery. I could also make arrangements in the
“Tourists’ Court” to be “personally conducted” by Mr. Cook,

away from the Crystal Pal-
ace at any moment to any
other part of the world.
However, instead of adopt-
ing this inviting but ex-
treme measure, I took a
chair in front of the great
stage to assist at a perform-
ance of the “ Variety Enter-
tainment.”

As I seated myself, a gen-
tleman in green satin trou-
sers was tossing up some
balls, to the complete satis-
faction of an overflowing
audience. I immediately recognised him as a most talented person I
had met in a rival educational establishment to the Crystal Palace—
I mean the Royal Westminster Aquarium. Having attained the
object of his highest ambition (balancing a soda-water bottle on a
breakfast plate) with a slight crash of crockery, he gave place to
“Professor de Lhie, Prestidigitateur.” The new arrival, who
appeared in evening dress, good-humouredly put on a pigtail as a
preliminary to producing some bird-cages and paper lanterns from
an empty hat. Having received gracefully the lavish congratula-
tions of the Public, he also retired, in
favour of two Acrobats. These gentle-
men were supplied with a chair (upon
which were placed placards of weights)
and half-a-dozen cannon-balls. Then,
to the sounds of sweet and solemn
music (kindly furnished by the “ Com-
pany’s Military Band”), the athletes
raised the heavy projectiles to their
shoulders and balanced them on their
biceps. The applause was deafening.

I now thought it time to retire. 1 had seen enough of “the veritable
glory of Old England ” and its attractions. I had sufficiently care-
fully examined “ the School of Nations ” and “the Stronghold of the
Beautiful and the True.”

Before leaving, however, I looked at the Entertainment once again,
as a burst of tumultuous applause reached my ears. A gentleman
in a grotesque costume, with the aid of talented assistants, was
standing on the top of a ladder—on his head! This was the last straw!
My reverence for the spot, which had been on the wane all day,
vanished suddenly altogether, and I came to the abrupt conclusion
that the Crystal Palace emphatically is not the sort of place it is
popularly supposed to be!