DOI issue:
June 28, 1884
DOI Page / Citation link: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17756#0314
June 28, 1884.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
309
preserved fruits. Curiously intertwined with these, in pink J
majolica, are a bevy of startled bankrupts bathing-, while Agamem- j
non, who has on his helmet the initials D.C.L., is chasing the J
Emperor Maximilian the Seventh and Henry the Bold (in
effigy as Gtjy Faux) over an arabesque of dessert-knife handles,
affidavits, open oysters (seconds), and Italian irons (1501).
Started at £94,000, this costly objet d’Art soon reached £570,300,
when, by a few rapid jumps of ten thousand at a time, it ultimately
touched merely the miserable and paltry figure of £970,510 10s., and
it had scarcely been knocked down, amidst a fearful howl of indig-
nation at this sum to a gentleman who declined to give his name,
but was supposed to be an agent of the Army and Navy Stores, when
a furious onset was made by disappointed bidders upon the cistern
itself, and in a few moments fragments of the priceless domestic
treasure were flying about all over the neighbourhood.
The military being called out, after the auctioneer and several
well-known European buyers had been freely immersed in the
Charing Cross fountains, the proceedings of the day terminated.
The Sale will be continued as usual to-morrow, and its progress is
awaited with considerable interest.
OUR INSANE-1TARY GUIDE TO THE HEALTH
EXHIBITION.
Part III.—The “Lamperies.”
Having disposed of the “Eateries” (for really the Vegetarian
Dinner is scarcely a subject for experiment), one naturally comes to
the Gardens. Scoffers have declared that the Fisheries of last year
enjoyed their enormous popularity almost entirely on account of the
grand evening fetes, which became of such frequent occurrence
towards the close of the Season. Certainly, this Summer, the Great
Establishment at South Kensington has been particularly well-
attended after nightfall. The rival bands at the Kiosks, the thou-
sands of Chinese lanterns, and the display of fountains have all had
their influence in emptying the Exhibition and filling the Grounds—
which are sufficient grounds for continuing the Exhibition as a
permanency. No doubt a Grand International Walking-Stick
Contest, or a Cosmopolitan Collection of Cotton Night-caps, if
wedded to “ bands in the Grounds, and concerts in the Albert Hall,”
would do just as well as Fish or Biscuits. Next year we are to have
Inventions (with “bands, &c., &c.”), and in 1886 Colonial Exhibits
(with “ bands, &e., &c.”), and probably by 1890 we shall have come
to Toothpicks (with “hands, &c., &c.”), and then, most likely,
it will be time to think of repeating once more Fish and Biscuits.
But, whatever may be the subject of inspection inside the building,
outside, in the Grounds, Lights and Music will hold their sway.
Happily, the propensity of popular science in this country is to
run to skittles. The Crystal Palace at Sydenham (where, by the
way, a most admirable International Exhibition is at this very
moment being held) commenced its career with the highest aspi-
rations. The British Public were to be shown the architectural
glories of the Alhambra and Pompeii, and soon found themselves
watching the evolutions of Leotard and Blondin. In like manner
the Westminster Aquarium was inaugurated by the Duke of Edin-
burgh, as a sort of supplement to “the mission of Albert the Good,”
but soon had to fall back upon Zazel and a “ Variety Entertain-
ment.” So it should not create astonishment if, to “ strengthen” the
attractions of South Kensington, next year there are found amongst
the “ new inventions ” a troupe of performing dogs and monkeys,
and a talented Gentleman who publicly drinks, at advertised intervals,
beer while balancing himself on the top of a pole upon his head. But,
assuming, to avoid argument, that everything about South Kensington
this season must be in the cause of health, then “ the Lamperies ” may
be taken as a sort of ‘ ‘ constitution tester.” To more fully explain my
meaning, say that you have a wealthy but unreasonably hearty mater-
nal grandmother, and you wish to test her constitution. Regarded from
this point of view, the night fetes have a special interest of their own.
Let us assume that your maternal grandmother has been lured up
to Town with red cheeks, born of country air. She is very rich, and
you know that you benefit considerably under her will. In common
kindness, you are forced to ask her to the Healtheries, and once get her
past the turnstile, and the game should be in your own hands. Of
course, you will give her dinner. Be generous, and do not attempt to
starve her, although you may think that it is within the resources of
Brompton civilisation (especially with the aid of “the shilling meal”)
j to effect that object. No; let your hospitality be all but limitless, in
fact, let it be only bounded by a cut from the joint on one side, and
a portion of cheddar cheese on the other. Get her, moreover, into
a proper frame of mind for undergoing your experiment, by plying her
with large quantities of low-priced “ Beaune.” If these preliminaries
I are properly managed, the dear old Lady, accustomed only to weak
I cider and one o’clock dinners, will become quite frisky by eight
! o’clock, and inform you that she is then ready to “enjoy herself
thoroughly.” You will now lead her into the Grounds, pausing for a
few moments to admire the crystal burst of Illuminated loyalty on
the part of the Water Companies, which you will find in a sort of
back-yard not far from the Entrance Hall. Your maternal grand-
mother will at once give a proof that the temperature of the Grounds
differs from that of the building by sneezing. This should encourage
you to take her to have, al fresco, a cup of India tea, which will be
served to her on damp grass by maidens, chiefly garbed in pocket-
handkerchiefs. Her constitution may he further sounded, at this
point of the treatment, by the administration to her of an Australian
chop, eaten in a gusty passage near “ Old London.”
By this time she will have become more or less acclimatised, when
increased tests will be necessary. A chair should be secured for her
close to the big drum in the Western Kiosk. When she is once
seated, she will_ be unable to get up for some little time, on account
of the promenaders accidentally converting her toes into a temporary
door-mat. Any inconvenience, however, occasioned by this mistake
will be forgotten in the pleasure she will derive from listening to the
bangings of the big drum, and watching the extinguishing effects of
the East wind upon the candles in the lanterns. As nine approaches,
you will invite her to follow you, to see the fountains illuminated by
the electric light. Unless a martyr to acute rheumatism, the dear
old soul will assuredly accept your invitation. You will now pause
every dozen steps, to admire the view. Your venerable relative will
conjure up recollections of Yauxhall (and Influenza), and pass on.
Again and again will you stop, pointing out the beauties of this gas
trophy and that oil design. With tears in her eyes (caused by
chronic sneezes), your grandmother will hurriedly acquiesce in your
approbation, and try to break into a trot. Do not thwart her—by all
means let the old Lady run, but choose your own route. Having
carefully ascertained the direction of the wind, you will place your-
self (wrapped in your mackintosh) and your now shivering ancestress
in such a position so that it (the wind, not the mackintosh) blows full
in your faces as you stand by the brink of the basin devoted to the
fountains. And now comes your final test. Nine will strike, and in
a moment the water will rush into the air, assuming, under the
electric light, a number of different colours. It will rise, I repeat,
in the air, and then descend in tons of spray upon—the head of your
unfortunate relative ! But why pursue the theme further ? At this
stage the story may conveniently break off. The remainder can be
divulged—at the inquest!
“TO ARMS! TO ARMS!” AT ISLINGTON.
All London last week was rushing to the Agricultural Hall to see
the Military Tournament. The audience rose like one man, and
shrieked with enthusiasm when two mounted warriors whacked one
another over the head with single-sticks in the cause of charity, and
were equally delighted when the same sort of operation was per-
formed (only on foot and with bayonet-prods in the chest) all for
the sake of our “old and disabled soldiers.” The Musical Ride of
the Life Guards quite explained the gallantry exhibited by the re-
presentatives of the Cavalry Household Brigade at Kassassin; and
as for the “ display” of the Hussars, nothing has been seen half so
good since the days of Astley’s. The Musical Ride might be intro-
duced in Rotten Row from Twelve to One, while the Band jjlays.
But the performances, taken all round (and they were taken all
round—in the ring), were too long. They wanted relief—in fact, the
Circus required a Clown. No doubt, had H.R.H. the Duke of Cam-
bridge thought of it in time, with his ever-readiness to oblige he
would have entered the arena, and amid the cheers of the spectators
have given a few War Office witticisms. Perhaps next year the
Field-Marshal Commanding-in-Chief will act upon the hint. In the
interim he might undergo a course of “wheeze drill,” under the
experienced direction of that worthy successor to Grimaldi, Mr.
Harry Payne. The Duke interrupting the Driving competition of
the Royal Artillery to ask “ Number One ” of the leading detach-
ment “what he should go for to fetch for to carry?” should be
“ immense,” and if he can only train a charger (with a table-napkin
tied round his neck) to take a cup of tea with him, the popularity
of the Tournament would be doubled. “Our Only General”
might appear as “ Ringmaster,” with a brilliant Staff closely follow-
ing in his footsteps, after the fashion of “the real thing” at
Sanger’s. Then the Battle of Waterloo, or some other well-known
“ Military and equestrian spectacle ” might be revived, with the
genuine guns, soldiers, and colours, “the new and appropriate
uniforms” being “ kindly lent by the Secretary of State for Mar—
from the Tower.” But, seriously, the Military Tournament, in every
respect, was admirable, and for the future must be considered as one
of the most popular “features” of the London Season. Captain
Tully managed everything perfectly; and as to Captain Trout, who
had to caU out the names,—well—it was wonderful how his voice
lasted ; at all events, though dismounted, there was no sort of doubt
as to his being a hoarse-soldier.
Spiritual Destitution.—The Psychical Research Society in want
of ghosts.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
309
preserved fruits. Curiously intertwined with these, in pink J
majolica, are a bevy of startled bankrupts bathing-, while Agamem- j
non, who has on his helmet the initials D.C.L., is chasing the J
Emperor Maximilian the Seventh and Henry the Bold (in
effigy as Gtjy Faux) over an arabesque of dessert-knife handles,
affidavits, open oysters (seconds), and Italian irons (1501).
Started at £94,000, this costly objet d’Art soon reached £570,300,
when, by a few rapid jumps of ten thousand at a time, it ultimately
touched merely the miserable and paltry figure of £970,510 10s., and
it had scarcely been knocked down, amidst a fearful howl of indig-
nation at this sum to a gentleman who declined to give his name,
but was supposed to be an agent of the Army and Navy Stores, when
a furious onset was made by disappointed bidders upon the cistern
itself, and in a few moments fragments of the priceless domestic
treasure were flying about all over the neighbourhood.
The military being called out, after the auctioneer and several
well-known European buyers had been freely immersed in the
Charing Cross fountains, the proceedings of the day terminated.
The Sale will be continued as usual to-morrow, and its progress is
awaited with considerable interest.
OUR INSANE-1TARY GUIDE TO THE HEALTH
EXHIBITION.
Part III.—The “Lamperies.”
Having disposed of the “Eateries” (for really the Vegetarian
Dinner is scarcely a subject for experiment), one naturally comes to
the Gardens. Scoffers have declared that the Fisheries of last year
enjoyed their enormous popularity almost entirely on account of the
grand evening fetes, which became of such frequent occurrence
towards the close of the Season. Certainly, this Summer, the Great
Establishment at South Kensington has been particularly well-
attended after nightfall. The rival bands at the Kiosks, the thou-
sands of Chinese lanterns, and the display of fountains have all had
their influence in emptying the Exhibition and filling the Grounds—
which are sufficient grounds for continuing the Exhibition as a
permanency. No doubt a Grand International Walking-Stick
Contest, or a Cosmopolitan Collection of Cotton Night-caps, if
wedded to “ bands in the Grounds, and concerts in the Albert Hall,”
would do just as well as Fish or Biscuits. Next year we are to have
Inventions (with “bands, &c., &c.”), and in 1886 Colonial Exhibits
(with “ bands, &e., &c.”), and probably by 1890 we shall have come
to Toothpicks (with “hands, &c., &c.”), and then, most likely,
it will be time to think of repeating once more Fish and Biscuits.
But, whatever may be the subject of inspection inside the building,
outside, in the Grounds, Lights and Music will hold their sway.
Happily, the propensity of popular science in this country is to
run to skittles. The Crystal Palace at Sydenham (where, by the
way, a most admirable International Exhibition is at this very
moment being held) commenced its career with the highest aspi-
rations. The British Public were to be shown the architectural
glories of the Alhambra and Pompeii, and soon found themselves
watching the evolutions of Leotard and Blondin. In like manner
the Westminster Aquarium was inaugurated by the Duke of Edin-
burgh, as a sort of supplement to “the mission of Albert the Good,”
but soon had to fall back upon Zazel and a “ Variety Entertain-
ment.” So it should not create astonishment if, to “ strengthen” the
attractions of South Kensington, next year there are found amongst
the “ new inventions ” a troupe of performing dogs and monkeys,
and a talented Gentleman who publicly drinks, at advertised intervals,
beer while balancing himself on the top of a pole upon his head. But,
assuming, to avoid argument, that everything about South Kensington
this season must be in the cause of health, then “ the Lamperies ” may
be taken as a sort of ‘ ‘ constitution tester.” To more fully explain my
meaning, say that you have a wealthy but unreasonably hearty mater-
nal grandmother, and you wish to test her constitution. Regarded from
this point of view, the night fetes have a special interest of their own.
Let us assume that your maternal grandmother has been lured up
to Town with red cheeks, born of country air. She is very rich, and
you know that you benefit considerably under her will. In common
kindness, you are forced to ask her to the Healtheries, and once get her
past the turnstile, and the game should be in your own hands. Of
course, you will give her dinner. Be generous, and do not attempt to
starve her, although you may think that it is within the resources of
Brompton civilisation (especially with the aid of “the shilling meal”)
j to effect that object. No; let your hospitality be all but limitless, in
fact, let it be only bounded by a cut from the joint on one side, and
a portion of cheddar cheese on the other. Get her, moreover, into
a proper frame of mind for undergoing your experiment, by plying her
with large quantities of low-priced “ Beaune.” If these preliminaries
I are properly managed, the dear old Lady, accustomed only to weak
I cider and one o’clock dinners, will become quite frisky by eight
! o’clock, and inform you that she is then ready to “enjoy herself
thoroughly.” You will now lead her into the Grounds, pausing for a
few moments to admire the crystal burst of Illuminated loyalty on
the part of the Water Companies, which you will find in a sort of
back-yard not far from the Entrance Hall. Your maternal grand-
mother will at once give a proof that the temperature of the Grounds
differs from that of the building by sneezing. This should encourage
you to take her to have, al fresco, a cup of India tea, which will be
served to her on damp grass by maidens, chiefly garbed in pocket-
handkerchiefs. Her constitution may he further sounded, at this
point of the treatment, by the administration to her of an Australian
chop, eaten in a gusty passage near “ Old London.”
By this time she will have become more or less acclimatised, when
increased tests will be necessary. A chair should be secured for her
close to the big drum in the Western Kiosk. When she is once
seated, she will_ be unable to get up for some little time, on account
of the promenaders accidentally converting her toes into a temporary
door-mat. Any inconvenience, however, occasioned by this mistake
will be forgotten in the pleasure she will derive from listening to the
bangings of the big drum, and watching the extinguishing effects of
the East wind upon the candles in the lanterns. As nine approaches,
you will invite her to follow you, to see the fountains illuminated by
the electric light. Unless a martyr to acute rheumatism, the dear
old soul will assuredly accept your invitation. You will now pause
every dozen steps, to admire the view. Your venerable relative will
conjure up recollections of Yauxhall (and Influenza), and pass on.
Again and again will you stop, pointing out the beauties of this gas
trophy and that oil design. With tears in her eyes (caused by
chronic sneezes), your grandmother will hurriedly acquiesce in your
approbation, and try to break into a trot. Do not thwart her—by all
means let the old Lady run, but choose your own route. Having
carefully ascertained the direction of the wind, you will place your-
self (wrapped in your mackintosh) and your now shivering ancestress
in such a position so that it (the wind, not the mackintosh) blows full
in your faces as you stand by the brink of the basin devoted to the
fountains. And now comes your final test. Nine will strike, and in
a moment the water will rush into the air, assuming, under the
electric light, a number of different colours. It will rise, I repeat,
in the air, and then descend in tons of spray upon—the head of your
unfortunate relative ! But why pursue the theme further ? At this
stage the story may conveniently break off. The remainder can be
divulged—at the inquest!
“TO ARMS! TO ARMS!” AT ISLINGTON.
All London last week was rushing to the Agricultural Hall to see
the Military Tournament. The audience rose like one man, and
shrieked with enthusiasm when two mounted warriors whacked one
another over the head with single-sticks in the cause of charity, and
were equally delighted when the same sort of operation was per-
formed (only on foot and with bayonet-prods in the chest) all for
the sake of our “old and disabled soldiers.” The Musical Ride of
the Life Guards quite explained the gallantry exhibited by the re-
presentatives of the Cavalry Household Brigade at Kassassin; and
as for the “ display” of the Hussars, nothing has been seen half so
good since the days of Astley’s. The Musical Ride might be intro-
duced in Rotten Row from Twelve to One, while the Band jjlays.
But the performances, taken all round (and they were taken all
round—in the ring), were too long. They wanted relief—in fact, the
Circus required a Clown. No doubt, had H.R.H. the Duke of Cam-
bridge thought of it in time, with his ever-readiness to oblige he
would have entered the arena, and amid the cheers of the spectators
have given a few War Office witticisms. Perhaps next year the
Field-Marshal Commanding-in-Chief will act upon the hint. In the
interim he might undergo a course of “wheeze drill,” under the
experienced direction of that worthy successor to Grimaldi, Mr.
Harry Payne. The Duke interrupting the Driving competition of
the Royal Artillery to ask “ Number One ” of the leading detach-
ment “what he should go for to fetch for to carry?” should be
“ immense,” and if he can only train a charger (with a table-napkin
tied round his neck) to take a cup of tea with him, the popularity
of the Tournament would be doubled. “Our Only General”
might appear as “ Ringmaster,” with a brilliant Staff closely follow-
ing in his footsteps, after the fashion of “the real thing” at
Sanger’s. Then the Battle of Waterloo, or some other well-known
“ Military and equestrian spectacle ” might be revived, with the
genuine guns, soldiers, and colours, “the new and appropriate
uniforms” being “ kindly lent by the Secretary of State for Mar—
from the Tower.” But, seriously, the Military Tournament, in every
respect, was admirable, and for the future must be considered as one
of the most popular “features” of the London Season. Captain
Tully managed everything perfectly; and as to Captain Trout, who
had to caU out the names,—well—it was wonderful how his voice
lasted ; at all events, though dismounted, there was no sort of doubt
as to his being a hoarse-soldier.
Spiritual Destitution.—The Psychical Research Society in want
of ghosts.