DOI issue:
May 10, 1884
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17756#0231
May 10, 1884.]
225
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
BORN, 1799. DIED, 1884.
What ’s in a name ?—sure, dull of brain and crass
Is he, who, Briton horn, can quaff unstirred,
By all the wholesome magic of the word,
That royal drink of drinks our native “ Bass! ”
Ay ! Royal in its sober honest strength
As he, that King of steady workers, who,
His long well-ordered life passed nobly through,
Has heard the summons,—and is gone at length !
Peace rest with him ; for round his memory clings
The golden glamour of his useful days ;
And Justice, with no niggard meed of praise,
To his all-honoured grave this tribute brings.
Ye steadfast toilers, who your wealth amass,
Its nobler uses learn of Michael Bass.
HOOD MANNERS ; OR, THE ART OE BEING
AGREEABLE.
[Being Maxims and Extracts from Lord Jesterfield's Letters.)
No. III.
Sudden Friendliness highly Recommended.—Immediately on
’being introduced to anyone, no matter of what rank or degree in
the social scale he may be, carefully note if others call him by his
Christian name, .and if so, immediately adopt this mode of addressing
your new acquaintance. Such a method has a smack of heartiness
about it, which is much relished by the person so addressed, as it
will at once put both of you at your ease; and a cheery salute of
“ Billy, old boy! ” to anyone whose acquaintance you have made
just five minutes previously, may be the commencement of a friend-
ship that will only terminate with life.
On Natural Selection of Company.—Always choose to consort
with those who are superior to you in station, especially when within
sight of your relatives, friends, enemies, or your tradespeople.
Nothing redounds so much to your credit with these last as being
seen walking and talking familiarly, nay, even affectionately, with
a nobleman of reputation. If you have had the good fortune of having
been presented to a Royal Personage, seize every chance of coming
across him, of taking off 3Tour hat to him, of speaking to him in
public, and. of alluding to your intimacy with him among your
friends and relations.
On Accomplishments.—In order to contribute your share towards
the general entertainment of the company, it is the truest modesty
to let everyone know what you can do as soon as possible. For
instance, if you can play the piano ever so little, sit down imme-
diately (that is, on being introduced to your host or hostess for the
first time, having been brought there by a friend) at the piano, and
rattle off something, even if the performance be only with one
linger. The well-known melodies of “In my Cottage,” “Home, sweet
Home !” “ The March in Norma,” and “ God save the Queen!”
(for which last you will request all the company to evince their
loyalty by standing up) will be quite sufficient to give your new
friends a specimen of your capabilities, and an evidence of your
willingness to oblige.
If you .can sing, never by any chance go anywhere without
your songs, words, and music. Do not ivait to be asked to sing, or
your friends and acquaintances may never know what a pleasure
they have lost till you are gone, but at once announce your in-
tention of giving them, with or without accompaniment, “ Dr earn-
ing of Angels,” “Ever Thine!” “My Fair Dove, my Fond
Dove ! ” “ In the Gloaming,” with one or two old English varieties,
such as “ The Death of Nelson,” “ Sally in our Alley,” “ Aboard
the Arethusa,” “ The Bailiff's Daughter,” and so forth. These
songs I only mention here as indications of a generally useful reper-
toire, which, however, may, and pirobably will, include some popular
Italian, French, and German ballads. These you will sing in their
own native tongue. Do not quit the piano, or give up singing, until
you have clearly ascertained the feeling of the company on the
matter, as to prolong any entertainment of this sort beyond
certain limits is to incur the danger of fatiguing an audience. So,
after giving them half-a-dozen songs, you may at once recite some-
thing, or give imitations of popular Actors; and should Nature not
have gifted you with a singing voice (of which you cannot be sure
until you have given it a fair trial before successive audiences) you
will commence with recitals, or conjuring, or gymnastics, or poses
plastiques (a friend bringing a portable pocket lime-light apparatus
with him to enable you to do the Greek statues—“ Ajax defying the
Lightning,” and so forth), or, in fact, will exhibit any accomplish-
ment you may happen to possess. Only remember the golden rule
: given at the commencement of this advice, Do not ivait to be asked.
For example: Suppose you can only recite, or that you can only do
poses plastiques : well—you are introduced to the host and hostess :—
Introducer. You kindly said I might bring my friend—allow me to
introduce Mr. X-.
Host and Hostess. Delighted to make your acquaintance, &c., &c.
Mr. X. (yourself). The pleasure is mutual. You will be glad to
know that I can recite—just move a little on one side to allow my
arm free play—thank you. (Throws himself into attitude, and com-
mences.) “ The boy stood on the burning deck,” &c., &c.
Or, if poses plastiques are your line, the formula will be changed to—
Mr. X. The pleasure is mutual. Perhaps you are not aware that
I can execute a series of poses plastiques. Allow me—(announces in
a loud tone)—“ The Dying Gladiator.”
[ Throws himself on the floor in the well-known attitude.
And so on.
Another Golden Rule.—Never be so silly as to say “ I cannot do
such and such a thing” whatever it may be, but keeping to yourself
the fact that you have never tried it (whether it be carving
venison, dancing a mazourka, helping a Lady to mount her horse,
shooting, playing billiards, playing the violoncello, painting a por-
trait, or any one of a hundred other things that may suggest them-
selves to even the most accomplished Crichton), politely undertake to
oblige, and essay it—with a will. Depend upon it, it is a great thing
to establish for yourself the reputation of “ being so very willing, so
amiable, so ready to oblige in everything.”
Advice and Instruction.—Don’t be dashed by a first failure; in
carving, for example, you may make the gravy spurt over every-
body, and send the haunch flying ; in dancing you may fall down
on the slippery floor, dragging your partner with you (don’t let her
go—but be cheery, and cry, “Up again! and on we goes to
China ! ” or any other encouraging phrase); or in assisting a lady to
mount, you may throw her right over the horse, or bring her down
on your own head, you falling underneath; in shooting (if you’ve
never handled a gun before), you may maim a keeper, or pepper your
host with snipe-shot No. 2 ; you may, on your first attempt, cut
the cloth of the billiard-table ; you may, on first honestly trying
to play the violoncello, break the instrument and snap all the
strings, or send people raving to the dentist’s on your essaying a
tune,—but despite such accidents, to which the cleverest men, nay,
the greatest geniuses are liable, don’t give up. Nil desperandum—■
no matter how random your shots may be. At it again; cry
“There’s no such word as ‘Fail’!” and, depend upon it, your
efforts to amuse, and your determination to please, will be crowned
with more than success. How you will be welcomed everywhere,
I leave to your unaided imagination.
THE WOMAN OP THE EUTURE.
A Lay of the Oxford Victory.
The "Woman of the Future ! She ’ll be deeply read, that’s certain,
With all the education gained at Newnham or at Girton ;
She ’ll puzzle men in Algebra with horrible quadratics,
Dynamics, and the mysteries of higher mathematics ;
Or, if she turns to classic tomes a literary roamer.
She ’ll give you bits of Horace or sonorous lines from Homer.
You take a maiden in to dine, and find, with consternation,
She scorns the light frivolities of modern conversation ;
And not for her the latest bit of fashionable chatter,
Her pretty head is well-nigh full of more important matter ;
You talk of Drama or Burlesque, theatric themes pursuing,
She only thinks of what the Dons at Oxford may be doing.
A female controversialist will tackle you quite gaily,
With scraps from Pearson on the Creed, or extracts culled from
Paley ;
And, if you parry these homethrusts just like a wary fencer,
She’ll floor you with some Stuart Mill, or else with Herbert
Spencer.
In fact, unless with all such lore you happen to be laden,
You’d better shun, if you’ve a chance, an educated maiden.
The Woman of the Future may be very learned-looking,
But dare we ask if she ’ll know aught of housekeeping or cooking;
She’ll read far more, and that is wrell, than empty-headed beauties,
But has she studied with it all a woman’s chiefest duties P
We wot she ’ll ne’er acknowledge, till her heated brain grows cooler;
That Woman, not the Irishman, should be the true home-ruler.
0 pedants of these later days, who go on undiscerning,
To overload a woman’s brain and cram our girls with learning,
You ’ll make a woman half a man, the souls of parents vexing,
To find that all the gentle sex this process is unsexing.
Leave one or two nice girls before the sex your system smothers,
Or what on earth will poor men do for sweethearts, wives, and
mothers ?
225
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
BORN, 1799. DIED, 1884.
What ’s in a name ?—sure, dull of brain and crass
Is he, who, Briton horn, can quaff unstirred,
By all the wholesome magic of the word,
That royal drink of drinks our native “ Bass! ”
Ay ! Royal in its sober honest strength
As he, that King of steady workers, who,
His long well-ordered life passed nobly through,
Has heard the summons,—and is gone at length !
Peace rest with him ; for round his memory clings
The golden glamour of his useful days ;
And Justice, with no niggard meed of praise,
To his all-honoured grave this tribute brings.
Ye steadfast toilers, who your wealth amass,
Its nobler uses learn of Michael Bass.
HOOD MANNERS ; OR, THE ART OE BEING
AGREEABLE.
[Being Maxims and Extracts from Lord Jesterfield's Letters.)
No. III.
Sudden Friendliness highly Recommended.—Immediately on
’being introduced to anyone, no matter of what rank or degree in
the social scale he may be, carefully note if others call him by his
Christian name, .and if so, immediately adopt this mode of addressing
your new acquaintance. Such a method has a smack of heartiness
about it, which is much relished by the person so addressed, as it
will at once put both of you at your ease; and a cheery salute of
“ Billy, old boy! ” to anyone whose acquaintance you have made
just five minutes previously, may be the commencement of a friend-
ship that will only terminate with life.
On Natural Selection of Company.—Always choose to consort
with those who are superior to you in station, especially when within
sight of your relatives, friends, enemies, or your tradespeople.
Nothing redounds so much to your credit with these last as being
seen walking and talking familiarly, nay, even affectionately, with
a nobleman of reputation. If you have had the good fortune of having
been presented to a Royal Personage, seize every chance of coming
across him, of taking off 3Tour hat to him, of speaking to him in
public, and. of alluding to your intimacy with him among your
friends and relations.
On Accomplishments.—In order to contribute your share towards
the general entertainment of the company, it is the truest modesty
to let everyone know what you can do as soon as possible. For
instance, if you can play the piano ever so little, sit down imme-
diately (that is, on being introduced to your host or hostess for the
first time, having been brought there by a friend) at the piano, and
rattle off something, even if the performance be only with one
linger. The well-known melodies of “In my Cottage,” “Home, sweet
Home !” “ The March in Norma,” and “ God save the Queen!”
(for which last you will request all the company to evince their
loyalty by standing up) will be quite sufficient to give your new
friends a specimen of your capabilities, and an evidence of your
willingness to oblige.
If you .can sing, never by any chance go anywhere without
your songs, words, and music. Do not ivait to be asked to sing, or
your friends and acquaintances may never know what a pleasure
they have lost till you are gone, but at once announce your in-
tention of giving them, with or without accompaniment, “ Dr earn-
ing of Angels,” “Ever Thine!” “My Fair Dove, my Fond
Dove ! ” “ In the Gloaming,” with one or two old English varieties,
such as “ The Death of Nelson,” “ Sally in our Alley,” “ Aboard
the Arethusa,” “ The Bailiff's Daughter,” and so forth. These
songs I only mention here as indications of a generally useful reper-
toire, which, however, may, and pirobably will, include some popular
Italian, French, and German ballads. These you will sing in their
own native tongue. Do not quit the piano, or give up singing, until
you have clearly ascertained the feeling of the company on the
matter, as to prolong any entertainment of this sort beyond
certain limits is to incur the danger of fatiguing an audience. So,
after giving them half-a-dozen songs, you may at once recite some-
thing, or give imitations of popular Actors; and should Nature not
have gifted you with a singing voice (of which you cannot be sure
until you have given it a fair trial before successive audiences) you
will commence with recitals, or conjuring, or gymnastics, or poses
plastiques (a friend bringing a portable pocket lime-light apparatus
with him to enable you to do the Greek statues—“ Ajax defying the
Lightning,” and so forth), or, in fact, will exhibit any accomplish-
ment you may happen to possess. Only remember the golden rule
: given at the commencement of this advice, Do not ivait to be asked.
For example: Suppose you can only recite, or that you can only do
poses plastiques : well—you are introduced to the host and hostess :—
Introducer. You kindly said I might bring my friend—allow me to
introduce Mr. X-.
Host and Hostess. Delighted to make your acquaintance, &c., &c.
Mr. X. (yourself). The pleasure is mutual. You will be glad to
know that I can recite—just move a little on one side to allow my
arm free play—thank you. (Throws himself into attitude, and com-
mences.) “ The boy stood on the burning deck,” &c., &c.
Or, if poses plastiques are your line, the formula will be changed to—
Mr. X. The pleasure is mutual. Perhaps you are not aware that
I can execute a series of poses plastiques. Allow me—(announces in
a loud tone)—“ The Dying Gladiator.”
[ Throws himself on the floor in the well-known attitude.
And so on.
Another Golden Rule.—Never be so silly as to say “ I cannot do
such and such a thing” whatever it may be, but keeping to yourself
the fact that you have never tried it (whether it be carving
venison, dancing a mazourka, helping a Lady to mount her horse,
shooting, playing billiards, playing the violoncello, painting a por-
trait, or any one of a hundred other things that may suggest them-
selves to even the most accomplished Crichton), politely undertake to
oblige, and essay it—with a will. Depend upon it, it is a great thing
to establish for yourself the reputation of “ being so very willing, so
amiable, so ready to oblige in everything.”
Advice and Instruction.—Don’t be dashed by a first failure; in
carving, for example, you may make the gravy spurt over every-
body, and send the haunch flying ; in dancing you may fall down
on the slippery floor, dragging your partner with you (don’t let her
go—but be cheery, and cry, “Up again! and on we goes to
China ! ” or any other encouraging phrase); or in assisting a lady to
mount, you may throw her right over the horse, or bring her down
on your own head, you falling underneath; in shooting (if you’ve
never handled a gun before), you may maim a keeper, or pepper your
host with snipe-shot No. 2 ; you may, on your first attempt, cut
the cloth of the billiard-table ; you may, on first honestly trying
to play the violoncello, break the instrument and snap all the
strings, or send people raving to the dentist’s on your essaying a
tune,—but despite such accidents, to which the cleverest men, nay,
the greatest geniuses are liable, don’t give up. Nil desperandum—■
no matter how random your shots may be. At it again; cry
“There’s no such word as ‘Fail’!” and, depend upon it, your
efforts to amuse, and your determination to please, will be crowned
with more than success. How you will be welcomed everywhere,
I leave to your unaided imagination.
THE WOMAN OP THE EUTURE.
A Lay of the Oxford Victory.
The "Woman of the Future ! She ’ll be deeply read, that’s certain,
With all the education gained at Newnham or at Girton ;
She ’ll puzzle men in Algebra with horrible quadratics,
Dynamics, and the mysteries of higher mathematics ;
Or, if she turns to classic tomes a literary roamer.
She ’ll give you bits of Horace or sonorous lines from Homer.
You take a maiden in to dine, and find, with consternation,
She scorns the light frivolities of modern conversation ;
And not for her the latest bit of fashionable chatter,
Her pretty head is well-nigh full of more important matter ;
You talk of Drama or Burlesque, theatric themes pursuing,
She only thinks of what the Dons at Oxford may be doing.
A female controversialist will tackle you quite gaily,
With scraps from Pearson on the Creed, or extracts culled from
Paley ;
And, if you parry these homethrusts just like a wary fencer,
She’ll floor you with some Stuart Mill, or else with Herbert
Spencer.
In fact, unless with all such lore you happen to be laden,
You’d better shun, if you’ve a chance, an educated maiden.
The Woman of the Future may be very learned-looking,
But dare we ask if she ’ll know aught of housekeeping or cooking;
She’ll read far more, and that is wrell, than empty-headed beauties,
But has she studied with it all a woman’s chiefest duties P
We wot she ’ll ne’er acknowledge, till her heated brain grows cooler;
That Woman, not the Irishman, should be the true home-ruler.
0 pedants of these later days, who go on undiscerning,
To overload a woman’s brain and cram our girls with learning,
You ’ll make a woman half a man, the souls of parents vexing,
To find that all the gentle sex this process is unsexing.
Leave one or two nice girls before the sex your system smothers,
Or what on earth will poor men do for sweethearts, wives, and
mothers ?