DOI issue:
December 20, 1884
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17757#0307
300 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. (December 20, 1884,
THE COMING CONTINENT.
“ Teneo te, Africa /” quoted. Mr. Punch from the thrasonic
epigrammatist, as, turning a reedy corner on the Congo, he came at
last face to face with the dusky Venus of the Dark Continent.
“Indeed!” said the swart Beauty, with a slightly sardonic
smile. “ Do you speak as a Detective, or a Conqueror ? ”
“As neither, but as a friend, and—may I say 1—admirer,” re-
sponded the Ubiquitous One, with a courteous bow.
“ Well, I am glad to hear that,” said Venus, “ for really I am now
pursued by so many would-be Caesars and pseulo-Scipios, that I
begin to feel like a Diana who is hunted, instead of huntress. Oh, do
not be afraid—I shall not serve you as poor Actseon was served,
because I know that you will treat me with the politeness due to a
Goddess of Colour, not—as so many of my violent votaries do—with
the rough-and ready worship suited to a Coal-black Rose.”
“Precisely,” replied Mr. Punch. “Toby, don't bark at that
Crocodile! ”
“ It is a tame one, and won’t hurt him,” said the Goddess, stooping
pleasantly to pat the dog of dogs. “ But pray, Mr. Punch, what is
the reason for the recent universal rush for my shrine ? ”
“Need I name any beyond the attraction of your charms p ” said
the Sasre, gallantly.
“ What P ” cried the Goddess, “ I-
That am with Phoebus’ amorous pinches black !
rather more so, I fancy, than that man-hunter ‘ The Serpent of old
Mle,’ draw into my train, at this time of day, the most stalwart
manhood of the White West, from De Brazza to Bismarck, from
Stanley to—yourself P ’ ’
“Extremely natural, my dear Goddess,” replied Mr. Punch.
“ The fact is, yours is the Coming Continent. As Penthesilea came
to the aid of the Trojans, vou come—only more fortunately I trust—
to the aid of the crowded West.”
“ Well,” murmured the Goddess, musingly, “ I must say I rather
like Stanley’s style of wooing.”
“ Brisk, isn’t he ? ” said the Sage.
“ But not brutal, like—well, never mind who,” replied the Dusky
One. “ If Somebody on the Vile had shown as much dash and de-
cision as he on the Congo ! ”
“ What do you think of Gordon ?” asked her interlocutor,* adroitly.
“ Fighting for his own hand, even Hannibal would hardly have
! been in it with him. But you really think my day is dawning ? ”
“Sure of it,” said Mr. Punch. “That’s why I’m here. The
Dark Continent is about to be enlightened, and I, the Great
Enlightener, must take my part in the process. Ten million square
miles of undeveloped country will require a little more illumination
than even Bismarck can give.”
“Ah, he’s another of them,” smiled the Venus of the Congo.
| “Rather late in the field, but Intends having his share of it,
j apparently. The Attic story seems inverted. I feel rather like one
j Venus having to choose between half-a-dozen Parises. The question
is, who is to have the Apple ? ”
“ I guess you ’ll have to divide it, Goddess,” said Mr. Punch, sig-
i nifieantly.
“And Mr. Punch's portion?” queried the Ebony Enchantress,
archly.
“ Oh, I’ll make that over to my friend, John Bull,” responded
I the Ever-Ready.
| “ Well, he ’ll want it if he doesn’t hold his own a little better than
| he’s been doing of late,” said Venus. “On all my streams—the
| Vile, the Viger, the Congo, the Orange, the Vaal—he has resoiute
; rivals and astute competitors.”
! “If they had their way, his share of the Apple would be smaller
than the urchin’s much-grudged mouthful in Mulready’s picture of
; “ The Bite,” said Mr. Punch. “ But, John, though sometimes
| seeming slow for an ardent wooer, is apt to outstay the more fiery
j comers-on. Look at India and America.”
I “ Whilst they have thriven and been thronged, my domains, but
for a fringe of squabbling colonists and a few enterprising explorers,
have been left a wealth-teeming solitude and a fertile waste,” said
the Venus of the Dark Continent.
“ But now your time is come,” responded the Great in Council.
‘ ‘ What wonder you have so many wooers ? History lies before vou,
and crowded Commerce seeks your heretofore lonely feet. What
Stanley describes as “ a plateau continent of from 1000 to 4000 feet
above the sea, with a sea-front all round descending in successive
terraces to the sea.” will not much longer be the Dark Continent—
especially since I am here! By the brown fast-flowing Congo
I promise you, Goddess, not to track your rivers like Stanley, nor
to contend for your land like the Portuguese, the Frenchman, the
Briton, and the Teuton—not even to allot you by Treaty, or set you
right by Conference. But my Words and Works—words of light,
and works of leading—shall be at your service ; and with them, in
addition to Peace, Free Trade, and a reasonable stint of Fire Water,
such a future is before you as Hannibal never foresaw, and “ Sido-
nian Dido ” would have been startled at the dream of.
African Aphrodite bent a beaming smile upon the Oracle of Fleet
Street. “ Stanley,” said she, “ is stout, and Bismarck is astute ; but,
had I the Apple here, it should be yours; for more certainly even
than my beloved Congo, you have found your way to ‘ the heart
of Africa.’ ”
WHAT IS A DEPUTY-ALDERMAN ?
In answer to the very natural question, “ What is a Deputy-
Alderman ? ” I beg to inform your innumerable readers that he is,
in the first place, a distinguished and fortunate City Corporator,
selected by an Alderman as his especial guide, philosopher, and friend.
He must be a man of large and varied experience, so as to be able
to direct his honoured chief what to eat, what to drink, and what to
avoid. He warns him, for instance, against thick turtle, sweet
champagne, and fruity port, and impresses upon him the desirability
of genial manners, short speeches, and lavish hospitality, which last
grand Christian virtue he is always ready to advocate both theoreti-
cally and practically. He wears a gorgeous scarlet uniform, with
sword, spurs, and cocked-hat and feathers, which his portly form,
the natural result of his prolonged municipal experience, sets off to
great advantage.
The Prince of Wales, once upon a time, astonished at the strik-
ing resemblance between a full-blown Deputy Alderman and a
Major-General, cruelly deprived all future D. A.’s of their beloved
silver epaulettes, but which are still boastfully worn by all of
previous creation. Her Most Gracious Majesty the Q,ueen has such
an amount of affection for these civic warriors, that she creates them
all “ Her Majesty’s Lieutenants of the City of London,” under which
proud designation they appear in that most interesting volume, The
Upper Ten Thousand, a copy of which, price 12s., is always to be
found lying, rather obtrusively, upon the Drawing-room Table. Hot
content with thus showing her appreciation of this gallant Corps,
Her Majesty, once a year, kindly addresses them as “ Her trusty
and well-beloved,” and confers upon them the not properly appre-
ciated title of “Esquire.” Their Coachmen and Grooms, if they
have any, are entitled to wear cockades on their hats, a privilege that
all rightly constituted minds will properly value ; and, when Her
Majesty reviews her troops in Hyde Park, they are entitled, if on
horseback—rather a severe trial to some of them—to ride boldly into
the charmed circle.
When visiting Paris, their title of “Deputy” secures them the
attentions and privileges usually reserved for Members of Parlia-
ment, and all public buildings fly open before the magic name.
Upon the decease, or resignation, of their Chief, they are invariably
solicited to succeed him, when, should their hopes soar so “ giddy
high,” a career of honour opens before them, culminating in the
supreme dignity of Lord Mayor of the City of London, that may well
satisfy the ambition of any honest man. They are a remarkably fine
race of men, and were at one time allotted the chief seats in the
Council Chamber, but the democratic tendency of these degenerate
days has abolished this much-prized distinction, and they are now
relegated to the society of mere Common Councilmen.
J. Litgue.
QUESTIONS FOR THE QUESTIONERS.
Put by Mr. Punch.
To ask Sir Wilfrid Lawson.—Whether he objects to “ The power
of the Press and the Platform,” when used on his side and in favour
of his fads.
To ask Mr. Labouchere.—Whether he thinks the guffaw or the
chuckle the better exponent of true Statesmanship, and whether he
would like to live in a country ruled or guided by Sir Wilfrid
Lawson.
To ask Mr. Ashhead-Bartlett.—Whether he has read the letters
in the Standard on the Nuisance of Needless Noise.
To ask Sir George Campbell.—Whether he can give an assurance
that he will not endeavour to commit Her Majesty’s Government to
any pledges involving the achievement of the absolutely impossible,
without first consulting Common Sense and the Laws of Nature.
To ask Mr. Pease.—Whether it is principle or spite which would
be gratified by compelling a sick Railway Traveller on a cold night
to go to the buffet for a flask of spirit, instead of having it brought to
his carriage by the usual bov-vendor.
To ask Baron W. De Worms, Mr. Warton, and all whom it may
concern, whether if a wise questioning is—as Bacon says—the half of
Science, they can say what fractional part of ignorance is represented
by any amount of foolish questioning.
Motto for Staples Inn.—“Dissolutions of Ancient Amities.'
Lear, Act I. sc. 2.
THE COMING CONTINENT.
“ Teneo te, Africa /” quoted. Mr. Punch from the thrasonic
epigrammatist, as, turning a reedy corner on the Congo, he came at
last face to face with the dusky Venus of the Dark Continent.
“Indeed!” said the swart Beauty, with a slightly sardonic
smile. “ Do you speak as a Detective, or a Conqueror ? ”
“As neither, but as a friend, and—may I say 1—admirer,” re-
sponded the Ubiquitous One, with a courteous bow.
“ Well, I am glad to hear that,” said Venus, “ for really I am now
pursued by so many would-be Caesars and pseulo-Scipios, that I
begin to feel like a Diana who is hunted, instead of huntress. Oh, do
not be afraid—I shall not serve you as poor Actseon was served,
because I know that you will treat me with the politeness due to a
Goddess of Colour, not—as so many of my violent votaries do—with
the rough-and ready worship suited to a Coal-black Rose.”
“Precisely,” replied Mr. Punch. “Toby, don't bark at that
Crocodile! ”
“ It is a tame one, and won’t hurt him,” said the Goddess, stooping
pleasantly to pat the dog of dogs. “ But pray, Mr. Punch, what is
the reason for the recent universal rush for my shrine ? ”
“Need I name any beyond the attraction of your charms p ” said
the Sasre, gallantly.
“ What P ” cried the Goddess, “ I-
That am with Phoebus’ amorous pinches black !
rather more so, I fancy, than that man-hunter ‘ The Serpent of old
Mle,’ draw into my train, at this time of day, the most stalwart
manhood of the White West, from De Brazza to Bismarck, from
Stanley to—yourself P ’ ’
“Extremely natural, my dear Goddess,” replied Mr. Punch.
“ The fact is, yours is the Coming Continent. As Penthesilea came
to the aid of the Trojans, vou come—only more fortunately I trust—
to the aid of the crowded West.”
“ Well,” murmured the Goddess, musingly, “ I must say I rather
like Stanley’s style of wooing.”
“ Brisk, isn’t he ? ” said the Sage.
“ But not brutal, like—well, never mind who,” replied the Dusky
One. “ If Somebody on the Vile had shown as much dash and de-
cision as he on the Congo ! ”
“ What do you think of Gordon ?” asked her interlocutor,* adroitly.
“ Fighting for his own hand, even Hannibal would hardly have
! been in it with him. But you really think my day is dawning ? ”
“Sure of it,” said Mr. Punch. “That’s why I’m here. The
Dark Continent is about to be enlightened, and I, the Great
Enlightener, must take my part in the process. Ten million square
miles of undeveloped country will require a little more illumination
than even Bismarck can give.”
“Ah, he’s another of them,” smiled the Venus of the Congo.
| “Rather late in the field, but Intends having his share of it,
j apparently. The Attic story seems inverted. I feel rather like one
j Venus having to choose between half-a-dozen Parises. The question
is, who is to have the Apple ? ”
“ I guess you ’ll have to divide it, Goddess,” said Mr. Punch, sig-
i nifieantly.
“And Mr. Punch's portion?” queried the Ebony Enchantress,
archly.
“ Oh, I’ll make that over to my friend, John Bull,” responded
I the Ever-Ready.
| “ Well, he ’ll want it if he doesn’t hold his own a little better than
| he’s been doing of late,” said Venus. “On all my streams—the
| Vile, the Viger, the Congo, the Orange, the Vaal—he has resoiute
; rivals and astute competitors.”
! “If they had their way, his share of the Apple would be smaller
than the urchin’s much-grudged mouthful in Mulready’s picture of
; “ The Bite,” said Mr. Punch. “ But, John, though sometimes
| seeming slow for an ardent wooer, is apt to outstay the more fiery
j comers-on. Look at India and America.”
I “ Whilst they have thriven and been thronged, my domains, but
for a fringe of squabbling colonists and a few enterprising explorers,
have been left a wealth-teeming solitude and a fertile waste,” said
the Venus of the Dark Continent.
“ But now your time is come,” responded the Great in Council.
‘ ‘ What wonder you have so many wooers ? History lies before vou,
and crowded Commerce seeks your heretofore lonely feet. What
Stanley describes as “ a plateau continent of from 1000 to 4000 feet
above the sea, with a sea-front all round descending in successive
terraces to the sea.” will not much longer be the Dark Continent—
especially since I am here! By the brown fast-flowing Congo
I promise you, Goddess, not to track your rivers like Stanley, nor
to contend for your land like the Portuguese, the Frenchman, the
Briton, and the Teuton—not even to allot you by Treaty, or set you
right by Conference. But my Words and Works—words of light,
and works of leading—shall be at your service ; and with them, in
addition to Peace, Free Trade, and a reasonable stint of Fire Water,
such a future is before you as Hannibal never foresaw, and “ Sido-
nian Dido ” would have been startled at the dream of.
African Aphrodite bent a beaming smile upon the Oracle of Fleet
Street. “ Stanley,” said she, “ is stout, and Bismarck is astute ; but,
had I the Apple here, it should be yours; for more certainly even
than my beloved Congo, you have found your way to ‘ the heart
of Africa.’ ”
WHAT IS A DEPUTY-ALDERMAN ?
In answer to the very natural question, “ What is a Deputy-
Alderman ? ” I beg to inform your innumerable readers that he is,
in the first place, a distinguished and fortunate City Corporator,
selected by an Alderman as his especial guide, philosopher, and friend.
He must be a man of large and varied experience, so as to be able
to direct his honoured chief what to eat, what to drink, and what to
avoid. He warns him, for instance, against thick turtle, sweet
champagne, and fruity port, and impresses upon him the desirability
of genial manners, short speeches, and lavish hospitality, which last
grand Christian virtue he is always ready to advocate both theoreti-
cally and practically. He wears a gorgeous scarlet uniform, with
sword, spurs, and cocked-hat and feathers, which his portly form,
the natural result of his prolonged municipal experience, sets off to
great advantage.
The Prince of Wales, once upon a time, astonished at the strik-
ing resemblance between a full-blown Deputy Alderman and a
Major-General, cruelly deprived all future D. A.’s of their beloved
silver epaulettes, but which are still boastfully worn by all of
previous creation. Her Most Gracious Majesty the Q,ueen has such
an amount of affection for these civic warriors, that she creates them
all “ Her Majesty’s Lieutenants of the City of London,” under which
proud designation they appear in that most interesting volume, The
Upper Ten Thousand, a copy of which, price 12s., is always to be
found lying, rather obtrusively, upon the Drawing-room Table. Hot
content with thus showing her appreciation of this gallant Corps,
Her Majesty, once a year, kindly addresses them as “ Her trusty
and well-beloved,” and confers upon them the not properly appre-
ciated title of “Esquire.” Their Coachmen and Grooms, if they
have any, are entitled to wear cockades on their hats, a privilege that
all rightly constituted minds will properly value ; and, when Her
Majesty reviews her troops in Hyde Park, they are entitled, if on
horseback—rather a severe trial to some of them—to ride boldly into
the charmed circle.
When visiting Paris, their title of “Deputy” secures them the
attentions and privileges usually reserved for Members of Parlia-
ment, and all public buildings fly open before the magic name.
Upon the decease, or resignation, of their Chief, they are invariably
solicited to succeed him, when, should their hopes soar so “ giddy
high,” a career of honour opens before them, culminating in the
supreme dignity of Lord Mayor of the City of London, that may well
satisfy the ambition of any honest man. They are a remarkably fine
race of men, and were at one time allotted the chief seats in the
Council Chamber, but the democratic tendency of these degenerate
days has abolished this much-prized distinction, and they are now
relegated to the society of mere Common Councilmen.
J. Litgue.
QUESTIONS FOR THE QUESTIONERS.
Put by Mr. Punch.
To ask Sir Wilfrid Lawson.—Whether he objects to “ The power
of the Press and the Platform,” when used on his side and in favour
of his fads.
To ask Mr. Labouchere.—Whether he thinks the guffaw or the
chuckle the better exponent of true Statesmanship, and whether he
would like to live in a country ruled or guided by Sir Wilfrid
Lawson.
To ask Mr. Ashhead-Bartlett.—Whether he has read the letters
in the Standard on the Nuisance of Needless Noise.
To ask Sir George Campbell.—Whether he can give an assurance
that he will not endeavour to commit Her Majesty’s Government to
any pledges involving the achievement of the absolutely impossible,
without first consulting Common Sense and the Laws of Nature.
To ask Mr. Pease.—Whether it is principle or spite which would
be gratified by compelling a sick Railway Traveller on a cold night
to go to the buffet for a flask of spirit, instead of having it brought to
his carriage by the usual bov-vendor.
To ask Baron W. De Worms, Mr. Warton, and all whom it may
concern, whether if a wise questioning is—as Bacon says—the half of
Science, they can say what fractional part of ignorance is represented
by any amount of foolish questioning.
Motto for Staples Inn.—“Dissolutions of Ancient Amities.'
Lear, Act I. sc. 2.