DOI Heft:
February 2, 1884
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17756#0068
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [February 2, 1884.
60
A GREAT DISCOVERY!
Mr. Punch, Sir, .
The immense amount of eager curiosity exhibited by an
excited and incredulous Public to learn the nature of the scheme
that is to accomplish what no Act of the Legislature, nor all the
benevolent ideas of the Philanthropists, nor all the wisdom of the
Philosophers has hitherto succeeded in achieving, — though but
natural, has been almost overwhelming. I will begin by saying
what my plan is not. It is not, then, a mere Utopian scheme that
the incredulous scoffer need turn from with derision, or the impe-
cunious spendthrift with contempt, because it affects not him. It is
I not the wild dream of an enthusiast, but the calm development of a
philosopher. Like all very grand discoveries, Sir, my great scheme
can be stated so shortly, and so simply, that four words will suffice.
My scheme is “The Abolition of Lent!” I give your readers
time to recover their breath at this mighty revelation, before further
explaining its various details. Suffice it to say that I shall be able
to prove not only to my own entire satisfaction, but to that of all
other reasonable men, that my plan is as comprehensive and as just
in its application, as it is bold and original in its conception. 1 sat
down in my solitary chamber, at my well-worn desk, to consider the
whole matter calmly, philosophically, and fundamentally. _
What is Rent ? "Rent is the result of a superfluity. It is a charge
made by somebody for something he does not want, to somebody else
who wants it very badly. If a man wanted his house, of course he
wouldnotletittome. Can anything then be more ungenerous, can any-
thing be more selfish, or more opposed to the purest principles of phil-
anthropy, than to make me pay enormously for this trifling accommo-
1 dationP Think too of the sad results of this very absurd arrangement.
What is the greatest nuisance of our otherwise happy lives, if not
from the very highest, certainly to the very lowest ? Rent! What
makes us all dread Quarter Day ? Rent! Its abolition, too, strange
to say, would not only largely benefit the many, it would also really
benefit the few—whom, to a superficial thinker, it would appear to
injure—by relieving them of a large amount of quarterly anxiety,
induced by the uncertainty of their expected receipts, and of the
; possibility of having to enforce claims, that to a truly philosophic
mind must be absolute torture.
What must be the agony endured by a son of Israel who has to
turn out his miserable tenant from his one miserable room, because
he or she cannot pay the miserable Rent!
What must be the torture of a sensitive house agent of Low
Church proclivities who has to sell up a poor toil-worn clerk!
What must be the moral despair of a professional philanthropist,
who never hides his light under a bushel when joining in a fashion-
able public subscription, at having to issue an execution against the
household goods of a poor stricken tradesman, or, with a profound
sigh of regret, to make him a bankrupt, because he cannot pay his
crushing Rent! All this poignant regret, all this mental torture, all
this moral despair, will be at once and for ever at an end.
Rent is the first difficulty that besets the youthful pair, Rent is the
last straw that breaks the bankrupt’s back. Why then should this
miserable vampire be allowed any longer to prey upon all alike, on
the majority with the fangs of anxiety, on the minority with the
fangs of remorse ?
In my own poor case, which I doubt not is a representative one, I
always feel a strong repugnance to this particular payment. Its
very regularity is offensive to me, I detest having to take it nearly
three miles, on a particular day, at a certain hour, or to incur an
offensive reminder of what I certainly have not forgotten. Mv
butcher’s and baker’s bills I pay with comparative willingness. I
know and feel that I have received certain articles of food that have
contributed considerably to my enjoyment; but what do I get, in
i exchange for my Rent, of a tangible character, that I can handle or
; taste or examine ? Nothing, literally nothing. I must, of course,
' live somewhere. My Landlord is a wealthy Peer, who has, I am told,
I hundreds of houses similar to mine. If I and all his other tenants
chose to leave what he calls his houses, and no other tenants could be
t found for them, he would be compelled to admit an inferior order of
I persons, whom he would have to pay for taking care of them, and
preventing them from going to ruin, so that really I am, in addition
to paying him an odious tax, in the shape of Rent, actually saving
him in additions large expenditure. Surely, surely, this cannot be
just! and certainly, certainly, it is most inconvenient to me.
Besides, Sir, as we learn from various sources of information that
' the great object of all government is the greatest happiness of the
.greatest number, who can doubt but that my philanthropic scheme
would achieve that desirable object in an eminent degree. In the
sister country, the Law enacted lately that the more Rent a poor
Tenant owed to his cruel Landlord, the more should he be excused
from_ paying. This, Sir, was, I need hardly say, but a very small
step in the right direction ; mine goes the whole distance, for, with a
simplicity and a completeness that would, I verily believe, disarm
^ Land-Leaguer, I not only forgive all arrears in the past, but
• abolish all rents in the future.
The head of your statistical department, has furnished me with
some startling facts, from which I learn that the annual income of
the country being £585,223,891 17s. 4d., omitting fractions, and rent
being calculated at rather more than half of that amount, it follows,
that my philanthropic scheme would relieve the rent-paying portion
of the Public of the very handsome yearly payment of about three
hundred millions of money, and, at the same time, relieve the com-
paratively small number of rent-receivers of an amount of deep
anxiety, of mental torture, of poignant regret, and of moral despair,
such as no pure philanthropist like myself can contemplate without a
shudder.
What, Sir, is a contemptible sum of three hundred millions of
miserable lucre, screwed out of the necessities of our poor human
nature, compared with the noble gratification of having contributed
largely, out of mere superfluities, to the happiness and contentment
of thirty millions of our worthy fellow-countrymen, the toilers and
spinners of our Native Land ?
The first practical steps towards the realisation of my purely philan-
thropic idea, will be the formation of a strong Committee, and the collec-
tion of a large subscription for preliminary expenses. I have no wish
to push myself unnecessarily into notice, so I at once announce that I
should firmly refuse the position of Honorary President or Vice-
President. No ! my best and only reward will be the conviction that
I have developed a noble idea that is destined to change the present
sad condition of things in this wealthy land to one of peace, of satis-
faction, and of prosperity. But, as of course it will be necessary
that an efficient Secretary should be appointed to mould the affair
into shape, I have no objection to accept such office, but, as I do not
care about mere titles of honour, I should refuse the name of
Honorary. Subscriptions may, in the first instance, be forwarded to
the Punch Office, Fleet Street, under cover to the Secretary of ‘ ‘ the
Abolition of Rent Society, Limited.” j jjlTGUf,
‘ OLD TONGUE'S ” STABLE TALK.
[Communicated, by the Hippopotamus next door.)
Business seems fine, and buns excellent; but I don’t care about
these scientific fellows always hanging about, and poking me in the
face with umbrellas. Looks suspicious. “ Marks on my face ” ? Of
course I’ve got marks on my face,—but what of that ? “A dusty
dirty dun-colour ” F Well—who said I wasn’t ? What are they
driving at, I should like to know ? Botheration! Why don’t those
two blundering High Priests turn up? A little “Service” would
soon set all this right. Besides, I’m beginning to feel quite small.
Why, except by a learned Fakir who has several times offered me a
sacred powder, I haven’t been worshipped for three months and a
half!
* * * * * *
Ha! _ Here he is again! Taken his card-case out of his pocket.
Calls himself “ Baxmano Squire.” Good name. Says he is a ma-
gician, and can make me black. What a lark !—but not if I know it.
Have, however, accepted powder graciously, and put it into the
mahout’s curry by way of experiment. Wonder what colour he ’ll
turn ?
******
More scientific nuisances with umbrellas. Hear they’ve had a
leader in the Times about me. Splendid advertisement, but it won’t
do to be run down in this fashion. WTen will “ the clergy ” turn
up ? Having a private entertainment on their own account at Liver-
pool, I’ll be bound ! Bother them! Feel I ought to do something
beyond eating buns to show my sacred character. Good idea! Have
some rum and stand on my head. Have done it. Effective.
******
That fellow, Squire, wants to “ cure ” me now ! Well, I never!
And he’s ruining me in the papers! Here are a couple of lines
knocked off for speculative friends in Dacca—
“ To have your praises sung, if you aspire—
Don’t trust the business to Balmano’s choir! ”
Come, that isn’t bad for a sacred beast fresh to the language.
******
Crowds still pouring in; hut feel in the worst of spirits. Flower
has just been here, and said that that little bit of religious fun fixed
for Monday won’t be allowed to come off in the Gardens, after all.
Hear the High Priests have got something to do, as a stop gap, at
the Aquarium. Wish I had. Too bad !—I shall wire to Barnum at
once. A precious country this, where even an Elephant can’t have
his rites J Call this the land of liberty P Gammon!
Mrs. Ramsbotham was talking to a friend about her recent journey I
from Calais to Nice. She remarked, “ Yes, it was a very long way, 1
certainly; but then we went all the way in a coupon, so we were not |
so very tired, after all.
60
A GREAT DISCOVERY!
Mr. Punch, Sir, .
The immense amount of eager curiosity exhibited by an
excited and incredulous Public to learn the nature of the scheme
that is to accomplish what no Act of the Legislature, nor all the
benevolent ideas of the Philanthropists, nor all the wisdom of the
Philosophers has hitherto succeeded in achieving, — though but
natural, has been almost overwhelming. I will begin by saying
what my plan is not. It is not, then, a mere Utopian scheme that
the incredulous scoffer need turn from with derision, or the impe-
cunious spendthrift with contempt, because it affects not him. It is
I not the wild dream of an enthusiast, but the calm development of a
philosopher. Like all very grand discoveries, Sir, my great scheme
can be stated so shortly, and so simply, that four words will suffice.
My scheme is “The Abolition of Lent!” I give your readers
time to recover their breath at this mighty revelation, before further
explaining its various details. Suffice it to say that I shall be able
to prove not only to my own entire satisfaction, but to that of all
other reasonable men, that my plan is as comprehensive and as just
in its application, as it is bold and original in its conception. 1 sat
down in my solitary chamber, at my well-worn desk, to consider the
whole matter calmly, philosophically, and fundamentally. _
What is Rent ? "Rent is the result of a superfluity. It is a charge
made by somebody for something he does not want, to somebody else
who wants it very badly. If a man wanted his house, of course he
wouldnotletittome. Can anything then be more ungenerous, can any-
thing be more selfish, or more opposed to the purest principles of phil-
anthropy, than to make me pay enormously for this trifling accommo-
1 dationP Think too of the sad results of this very absurd arrangement.
What is the greatest nuisance of our otherwise happy lives, if not
from the very highest, certainly to the very lowest ? Rent! What
makes us all dread Quarter Day ? Rent! Its abolition, too, strange
to say, would not only largely benefit the many, it would also really
benefit the few—whom, to a superficial thinker, it would appear to
injure—by relieving them of a large amount of quarterly anxiety,
induced by the uncertainty of their expected receipts, and of the
; possibility of having to enforce claims, that to a truly philosophic
mind must be absolute torture.
What must be the agony endured by a son of Israel who has to
turn out his miserable tenant from his one miserable room, because
he or she cannot pay the miserable Rent!
What must be the torture of a sensitive house agent of Low
Church proclivities who has to sell up a poor toil-worn clerk!
What must be the moral despair of a professional philanthropist,
who never hides his light under a bushel when joining in a fashion-
able public subscription, at having to issue an execution against the
household goods of a poor stricken tradesman, or, with a profound
sigh of regret, to make him a bankrupt, because he cannot pay his
crushing Rent! All this poignant regret, all this mental torture, all
this moral despair, will be at once and for ever at an end.
Rent is the first difficulty that besets the youthful pair, Rent is the
last straw that breaks the bankrupt’s back. Why then should this
miserable vampire be allowed any longer to prey upon all alike, on
the majority with the fangs of anxiety, on the minority with the
fangs of remorse ?
In my own poor case, which I doubt not is a representative one, I
always feel a strong repugnance to this particular payment. Its
very regularity is offensive to me, I detest having to take it nearly
three miles, on a particular day, at a certain hour, or to incur an
offensive reminder of what I certainly have not forgotten. Mv
butcher’s and baker’s bills I pay with comparative willingness. I
know and feel that I have received certain articles of food that have
contributed considerably to my enjoyment; but what do I get, in
i exchange for my Rent, of a tangible character, that I can handle or
; taste or examine ? Nothing, literally nothing. I must, of course,
' live somewhere. My Landlord is a wealthy Peer, who has, I am told,
I hundreds of houses similar to mine. If I and all his other tenants
chose to leave what he calls his houses, and no other tenants could be
t found for them, he would be compelled to admit an inferior order of
I persons, whom he would have to pay for taking care of them, and
preventing them from going to ruin, so that really I am, in addition
to paying him an odious tax, in the shape of Rent, actually saving
him in additions large expenditure. Surely, surely, this cannot be
just! and certainly, certainly, it is most inconvenient to me.
Besides, Sir, as we learn from various sources of information that
' the great object of all government is the greatest happiness of the
.greatest number, who can doubt but that my philanthropic scheme
would achieve that desirable object in an eminent degree. In the
sister country, the Law enacted lately that the more Rent a poor
Tenant owed to his cruel Landlord, the more should he be excused
from_ paying. This, Sir, was, I need hardly say, but a very small
step in the right direction ; mine goes the whole distance, for, with a
simplicity and a completeness that would, I verily believe, disarm
^ Land-Leaguer, I not only forgive all arrears in the past, but
• abolish all rents in the future.
The head of your statistical department, has furnished me with
some startling facts, from which I learn that the annual income of
the country being £585,223,891 17s. 4d., omitting fractions, and rent
being calculated at rather more than half of that amount, it follows,
that my philanthropic scheme would relieve the rent-paying portion
of the Public of the very handsome yearly payment of about three
hundred millions of money, and, at the same time, relieve the com-
paratively small number of rent-receivers of an amount of deep
anxiety, of mental torture, of poignant regret, and of moral despair,
such as no pure philanthropist like myself can contemplate without a
shudder.
What, Sir, is a contemptible sum of three hundred millions of
miserable lucre, screwed out of the necessities of our poor human
nature, compared with the noble gratification of having contributed
largely, out of mere superfluities, to the happiness and contentment
of thirty millions of our worthy fellow-countrymen, the toilers and
spinners of our Native Land ?
The first practical steps towards the realisation of my purely philan-
thropic idea, will be the formation of a strong Committee, and the collec-
tion of a large subscription for preliminary expenses. I have no wish
to push myself unnecessarily into notice, so I at once announce that I
should firmly refuse the position of Honorary President or Vice-
President. No ! my best and only reward will be the conviction that
I have developed a noble idea that is destined to change the present
sad condition of things in this wealthy land to one of peace, of satis-
faction, and of prosperity. But, as of course it will be necessary
that an efficient Secretary should be appointed to mould the affair
into shape, I have no objection to accept such office, but, as I do not
care about mere titles of honour, I should refuse the name of
Honorary. Subscriptions may, in the first instance, be forwarded to
the Punch Office, Fleet Street, under cover to the Secretary of ‘ ‘ the
Abolition of Rent Society, Limited.” j jjlTGUf,
‘ OLD TONGUE'S ” STABLE TALK.
[Communicated, by the Hippopotamus next door.)
Business seems fine, and buns excellent; but I don’t care about
these scientific fellows always hanging about, and poking me in the
face with umbrellas. Looks suspicious. “ Marks on my face ” ? Of
course I’ve got marks on my face,—but what of that ? “A dusty
dirty dun-colour ” F Well—who said I wasn’t ? What are they
driving at, I should like to know ? Botheration! Why don’t those
two blundering High Priests turn up? A little “Service” would
soon set all this right. Besides, I’m beginning to feel quite small.
Why, except by a learned Fakir who has several times offered me a
sacred powder, I haven’t been worshipped for three months and a
half!
* * * * * *
Ha! _ Here he is again! Taken his card-case out of his pocket.
Calls himself “ Baxmano Squire.” Good name. Says he is a ma-
gician, and can make me black. What a lark !—but not if I know it.
Have, however, accepted powder graciously, and put it into the
mahout’s curry by way of experiment. Wonder what colour he ’ll
turn ?
******
More scientific nuisances with umbrellas. Hear they’ve had a
leader in the Times about me. Splendid advertisement, but it won’t
do to be run down in this fashion. WTen will “ the clergy ” turn
up ? Having a private entertainment on their own account at Liver-
pool, I’ll be bound ! Bother them! Feel I ought to do something
beyond eating buns to show my sacred character. Good idea! Have
some rum and stand on my head. Have done it. Effective.
******
That fellow, Squire, wants to “ cure ” me now ! Well, I never!
And he’s ruining me in the papers! Here are a couple of lines
knocked off for speculative friends in Dacca—
“ To have your praises sung, if you aspire—
Don’t trust the business to Balmano’s choir! ”
Come, that isn’t bad for a sacred beast fresh to the language.
******
Crowds still pouring in; hut feel in the worst of spirits. Flower
has just been here, and said that that little bit of religious fun fixed
for Monday won’t be allowed to come off in the Gardens, after all.
Hear the High Priests have got something to do, as a stop gap, at
the Aquarium. Wish I had. Too bad !—I shall wire to Barnum at
once. A precious country this, where even an Elephant can’t have
his rites J Call this the land of liberty P Gammon!
Mrs. Ramsbotham was talking to a friend about her recent journey I
from Calais to Nice. She remarked, “ Yes, it was a very long way, 1
certainly; but then we went all the way in a coupon, so we were not |
so very tired, after all.