DOI Heft:
April 23, 1881
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17750#0188
April 23, 1881.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
THE BALACLAVA CHARGE—ONE SHILLING
PANORAMA.
Turnstiles to right of them, Turnstiles to left of
THE SEAL CITY CENSUS.
fiy The Corporation seems waking up.
^/yc^^ Not content with the great experiment
they are trying with so much success
them Go the Six Hundred Thousand !-at a shilling M ||5/§§jk, £^7 with the Electric Light, they have deter-
a ™ i i t -r. • j • p HI ^^^^^m^SF/v mined to set an example to the Govern-
lhe entrance to the Panorama is suggestive of: |f JraSfSHPf;'" / ment, and show them what a Census
something between a heathen temple (with. turn-. ^mPlgg^P^ 7 / ou°ht to be
stiles) a theatre, a music-hall, a church (with Wm&mM J1 / They seem to say, Who cares where a
turnstiles, of course;, and a mausoleum lou are , firBMMMWwl man sleeps ? we want to catch him when
not allowed to go straight before you but have at I T JiB^^M he's wide awake, and not only up, bu1
once to turn^tot^e leftjtnd descend. Be careful of [ mLjm ■ "' ^ up to everything, from Peruvians to
jfej^JN^ fS«" Consols, from Tea to Tallow. So every
good Citizen will be asked, on Monday
«' Fussiness, Dis-Census." the 25th, a few questions of quite a
different character to those just answered
by the rest of Her Majesty's subjects.
These said questions have been under the consideration of the City
Officials for months past. The Engineer drew them up, the Comp-
troller controlled the operation, the Acting Remembrancer acted his
part to perfection, and saw that nothing was forgotten. The Town
Clerk made so many Minutes of their proceedings that they occupied
several hours. The Chamberlain in full Court Suit introduced them
to the City Solicitor, who solicited a copy for his especial perusal,
"perusing same, 13s. 4r7."
We have been unable to obtain a Proof of the proposed Census
Paper, ours being under proof and under censure, so we sent a mes-
senger to the Foreign Office to ascertain how these things are managed,
but his reception was so uncommonly warm that he left hurriedly.
However, having a slight acquaintance with a certain Compositor, m
a certain office, named Rogers, we administered such a composing
draught to him, that he furnished us in return with a draught of his
own composition from Rogers' Pleasures of Memory.
A few extracts from this may be acceptable :—
Questions to be answered in full.
Who are you ?
What are you ?
Where are you when you are at home ?
What is your Wife's name ?
What was your Wife's name ?
What will your Wife's name probably be some day'?
What was her age 10 years ago ?
What is it now ?
Have you a Mother-in-Law ? If not, why not ?
What age is your Elder Brother, and how long has he been your
Elder Brother ? Is he anybody else's Elder Brother ? Does he
belong to the Elder Brethren of Trinity House ? If so, why ?
How many people do you employ, and do you call them all Em-
ployes, or only those who can speak French ?
What is the average age of the oldest among them ?
Do they sleep on the Premises after dinner ?
State with great particularity the largest number of Persons that
ever passed your door on one day, taking as an average, say, Lord
Mayor's Day ?
State their average ages and occupations ?
What annual amount of Profit do you make ?
What amount do you return to the Income Tax ?
Are you on friendly terms with the Assessor ?
How many Horses does your Father keep ?
What colour are they?
Does he bruise his Oats ? How many Beans make five ?
How many Horses pass your door from sun-rise to sunset, distin-
guishing those in single harness from those in double harness ?
Explain why those in double harness require more harness than
other Horses.
When you are out, does your Mother-in-Law know you 're out ?
How many Persons have entered your Premises during the last
twenty-four hours ?
(N.B.—This is the important question.
By counting every visit as a separate Visitor, and carefully mani-
pulating say,"the two men and a boy of your establishment by send-
ing them out all day on short errands for very trifimg matters, you
can swell up the number of Visitors to something almost too awful.
Moderate energy would raise your number to at least 500.
As there are about 10,000 houses in the City, if all the inhabitants
foUow your example, the people in the City on the eventful 25th will
be proved to amount to about Five Millions, which is exactly what
the Day Census is intended to prove.)
the steps. Why go down to a Panorama ? This is
the first mystery.
After the first twenty steps there is a refreshment-
stall, apparently let into the wall. Here a military
person, in uniform, with medals, was regaling himself ; but unless
positively fatigued by your exertion so far, you had better delay
refreshment until your return, when you may need it. The military
veteran is, I fancy, retained for past services on the establishment,
and may be inclined to afford information of considerable interest to
a very civil civilian. At the bottom of the steps there are two
passages open before you, one to "the right of them" and one
to " the left of them." Which to choose ? is the question. I suspect
that the veteran whom I passed on the landing above ought to be
here prepared to receive visitors. In the absence of this distinguished
sentinel from his post, take the left and you '11 choose right.
Along tortuous melancholy passages, until, if 3Tou happen to be
alone, you are about to give up finding the Panorama at all, and are
beginning to feel like a Babe in the Wood without the other babe,
when you come upon a heavy oriental curtain, which you lift ner-
vously under the impression that you have lost your way, and
wandered somehow out of the Panorama into a Turkish Bath. You
are not quite sure also that you won't turn up in a Linendraper's
establishment next door, and suddenly appear from a trap-door
under the cashier's desk, or shoot up behind a counter in the back
shop. However it is all right. You lift the curtain ; you pass
beyond the mystic veil; you ascend—thank heaven, at last you
ascend!—and far off—up above you a voice is heard, shrilly and
clearly, " Book of the Panorama, Six-pence ! Panorama and Guide,
Six-pence ! " Then another voice adds, " This way down ; this way
down"—and blessing your stars that there is at least one sweet
little cherub who sits up aloft to keep Avatch for the visitor, you
cheer up and reach the top—only to see nothing at all, except a lot
of people crushing each other against some obstacle, and looking
at something which you hope is the Charge of Balaclava.
The first point is where to begin. Go straight before you, elbow
every one out. Here you will be wedged in by several other people
with elbows as energetic and powerful as your own, and here you
will have to remain until you fight your way to another position.
Take care your hat is not knocked off into the sham battle-field.
To find out who is who in the picture is difficult. A French
General taking off his cocked hat and saluting the audience as
though he had just finished a " scene in a Circus on a trained steed,"
attracts the attention at once as a figure both natural and graceful.
Lord Cardigan can be recognised without trouble; his Lordship is in
a very flourishing condition, and apparently calling out to the Artist,
"Here! hi! look at me! I'm the fellow for you to take ! " The
Artist took him, which is more than the enemy could do. Sir
George Wombwell is down in the plan of the picture, but I
couldn't find him anywhere. Happening to inquire of some one where
the popular " Sir Jarge" was in the Panorama, I was informed that
he had just left. No wonder I couldn't find him. The information
given me was, I subsequently ascertained, strictly correct, as at that
precise moment the missing warrior was talking to a friend in Regent
Street, and I cannot blame him for not being in two places at once.
Unfortunately I dropped my Guide-Book into the field of battle,
where it disappeared for a second among the property cannons and
waggons, only to reappear in the stuffed hand of a dummy Russian
in remarkably thin-soled boots, where, unless it has been since swept
up by the charwomen on duty, it may be taken for a military
despatch, or a, code of secret signals just tumbled out of the soldier's
pocket. _ Owing to this loss I have somehow got into my head that
the Artist's name is Spoilpot—or something like it.
The general idea suggested by Messrs. Spoilpot & Co. seems to be,
" 1 O let me like a soldier fall,' only be sure there's an Artist there
to see me." The military actors in the scene seem to have done
deeds of theatrical daring with one eye on the enemy and the other
on the Artist. But for all this—'tis a clever picture, and—there's
money in it. In consequence of this success there will, of course, be
a surfeit of Panoramas ; and already there is one advertised for
Oxford Street, and another for the Crystal Palace. Shall we go Change oe Name.—Since the groundless attacks upon Mr. LJras-
back to Dioramas and Cosmoramas ? O the happy days when we set and Sir Charles Dilke, m connection with the ireiheit news-
were young! I paper, they call him Lord Random Churchill.
vol. lxxx. r
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
THE BALACLAVA CHARGE—ONE SHILLING
PANORAMA.
Turnstiles to right of them, Turnstiles to left of
THE SEAL CITY CENSUS.
fiy The Corporation seems waking up.
^/yc^^ Not content with the great experiment
they are trying with so much success
them Go the Six Hundred Thousand !-at a shilling M ||5/§§jk, £^7 with the Electric Light, they have deter-
a ™ i i t -r. • j • p HI ^^^^^m^SF/v mined to set an example to the Govern-
lhe entrance to the Panorama is suggestive of: |f JraSfSHPf;'" / ment, and show them what a Census
something between a heathen temple (with. turn-. ^mPlgg^P^ 7 / ou°ht to be
stiles) a theatre, a music-hall, a church (with Wm&mM J1 / They seem to say, Who cares where a
turnstiles, of course;, and a mausoleum lou are , firBMMMWwl man sleeps ? we want to catch him when
not allowed to go straight before you but have at I T JiB^^M he's wide awake, and not only up, bu1
once to turn^tot^e leftjtnd descend. Be careful of [ mLjm ■ "' ^ up to everything, from Peruvians to
jfej^JN^ fS«" Consols, from Tea to Tallow. So every
good Citizen will be asked, on Monday
«' Fussiness, Dis-Census." the 25th, a few questions of quite a
different character to those just answered
by the rest of Her Majesty's subjects.
These said questions have been under the consideration of the City
Officials for months past. The Engineer drew them up, the Comp-
troller controlled the operation, the Acting Remembrancer acted his
part to perfection, and saw that nothing was forgotten. The Town
Clerk made so many Minutes of their proceedings that they occupied
several hours. The Chamberlain in full Court Suit introduced them
to the City Solicitor, who solicited a copy for his especial perusal,
"perusing same, 13s. 4r7."
We have been unable to obtain a Proof of the proposed Census
Paper, ours being under proof and under censure, so we sent a mes-
senger to the Foreign Office to ascertain how these things are managed,
but his reception was so uncommonly warm that he left hurriedly.
However, having a slight acquaintance with a certain Compositor, m
a certain office, named Rogers, we administered such a composing
draught to him, that he furnished us in return with a draught of his
own composition from Rogers' Pleasures of Memory.
A few extracts from this may be acceptable :—
Questions to be answered in full.
Who are you ?
What are you ?
Where are you when you are at home ?
What is your Wife's name ?
What was your Wife's name ?
What will your Wife's name probably be some day'?
What was her age 10 years ago ?
What is it now ?
Have you a Mother-in-Law ? If not, why not ?
What age is your Elder Brother, and how long has he been your
Elder Brother ? Is he anybody else's Elder Brother ? Does he
belong to the Elder Brethren of Trinity House ? If so, why ?
How many people do you employ, and do you call them all Em-
ployes, or only those who can speak French ?
What is the average age of the oldest among them ?
Do they sleep on the Premises after dinner ?
State with great particularity the largest number of Persons that
ever passed your door on one day, taking as an average, say, Lord
Mayor's Day ?
State their average ages and occupations ?
What annual amount of Profit do you make ?
What amount do you return to the Income Tax ?
Are you on friendly terms with the Assessor ?
How many Horses does your Father keep ?
What colour are they?
Does he bruise his Oats ? How many Beans make five ?
How many Horses pass your door from sun-rise to sunset, distin-
guishing those in single harness from those in double harness ?
Explain why those in double harness require more harness than
other Horses.
When you are out, does your Mother-in-Law know you 're out ?
How many Persons have entered your Premises during the last
twenty-four hours ?
(N.B.—This is the important question.
By counting every visit as a separate Visitor, and carefully mani-
pulating say,"the two men and a boy of your establishment by send-
ing them out all day on short errands for very trifimg matters, you
can swell up the number of Visitors to something almost too awful.
Moderate energy would raise your number to at least 500.
As there are about 10,000 houses in the City, if all the inhabitants
foUow your example, the people in the City on the eventful 25th will
be proved to amount to about Five Millions, which is exactly what
the Day Census is intended to prove.)
the steps. Why go down to a Panorama ? This is
the first mystery.
After the first twenty steps there is a refreshment-
stall, apparently let into the wall. Here a military
person, in uniform, with medals, was regaling himself ; but unless
positively fatigued by your exertion so far, you had better delay
refreshment until your return, when you may need it. The military
veteran is, I fancy, retained for past services on the establishment,
and may be inclined to afford information of considerable interest to
a very civil civilian. At the bottom of the steps there are two
passages open before you, one to "the right of them" and one
to " the left of them." Which to choose ? is the question. I suspect
that the veteran whom I passed on the landing above ought to be
here prepared to receive visitors. In the absence of this distinguished
sentinel from his post, take the left and you '11 choose right.
Along tortuous melancholy passages, until, if 3Tou happen to be
alone, you are about to give up finding the Panorama at all, and are
beginning to feel like a Babe in the Wood without the other babe,
when you come upon a heavy oriental curtain, which you lift ner-
vously under the impression that you have lost your way, and
wandered somehow out of the Panorama into a Turkish Bath. You
are not quite sure also that you won't turn up in a Linendraper's
establishment next door, and suddenly appear from a trap-door
under the cashier's desk, or shoot up behind a counter in the back
shop. However it is all right. You lift the curtain ; you pass
beyond the mystic veil; you ascend—thank heaven, at last you
ascend!—and far off—up above you a voice is heard, shrilly and
clearly, " Book of the Panorama, Six-pence ! Panorama and Guide,
Six-pence ! " Then another voice adds, " This way down ; this way
down"—and blessing your stars that there is at least one sweet
little cherub who sits up aloft to keep Avatch for the visitor, you
cheer up and reach the top—only to see nothing at all, except a lot
of people crushing each other against some obstacle, and looking
at something which you hope is the Charge of Balaclava.
The first point is where to begin. Go straight before you, elbow
every one out. Here you will be wedged in by several other people
with elbows as energetic and powerful as your own, and here you
will have to remain until you fight your way to another position.
Take care your hat is not knocked off into the sham battle-field.
To find out who is who in the picture is difficult. A French
General taking off his cocked hat and saluting the audience as
though he had just finished a " scene in a Circus on a trained steed,"
attracts the attention at once as a figure both natural and graceful.
Lord Cardigan can be recognised without trouble; his Lordship is in
a very flourishing condition, and apparently calling out to the Artist,
"Here! hi! look at me! I'm the fellow for you to take ! " The
Artist took him, which is more than the enemy could do. Sir
George Wombwell is down in the plan of the picture, but I
couldn't find him anywhere. Happening to inquire of some one where
the popular " Sir Jarge" was in the Panorama, I was informed that
he had just left. No wonder I couldn't find him. The information
given me was, I subsequently ascertained, strictly correct, as at that
precise moment the missing warrior was talking to a friend in Regent
Street, and I cannot blame him for not being in two places at once.
Unfortunately I dropped my Guide-Book into the field of battle,
where it disappeared for a second among the property cannons and
waggons, only to reappear in the stuffed hand of a dummy Russian
in remarkably thin-soled boots, where, unless it has been since swept
up by the charwomen on duty, it may be taken for a military
despatch, or a, code of secret signals just tumbled out of the soldier's
pocket. _ Owing to this loss I have somehow got into my head that
the Artist's name is Spoilpot—or something like it.
The general idea suggested by Messrs. Spoilpot & Co. seems to be,
" 1 O let me like a soldier fall,' only be sure there's an Artist there
to see me." The military actors in the scene seem to have done
deeds of theatrical daring with one eye on the enemy and the other
on the Artist. But for all this—'tis a clever picture, and—there's
money in it. In consequence of this success there will, of course, be
a surfeit of Panoramas ; and already there is one advertised for
Oxford Street, and another for the Crystal Palace. Shall we go Change oe Name.—Since the groundless attacks upon Mr. LJras-
back to Dioramas and Cosmoramas ? O the happy days when we set and Sir Charles Dilke, m connection with the ireiheit news-
were young! I paper, they call him Lord Random Churchill.
vol. lxxx. r