DOI Heft:
November 26, 1887
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17658#0258
252
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [November 26, 1887.
THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE.
(A Cosmos Story.)
Chapter I.
Mr Noman Luckier, the eminent astronomer, was walking in his garden.
Suddenly he was staggered hy a sharp Mow on the head. Something fell at
his feet. It was not his head. He picked it up. It was a meteoric stone. This
set him thinking.
_ "Here," said he, as he ruhhed his newly-aequired phrenological development
with one hand and held the meteoric stone in the other, "is a solid, ponderable
body, which I can handle, examine, and analyse, and it comes to me," continued
the eminent scientist, extending his arms and looking round him, then direoting
his gaze upwards, his eye dilating with the grandeur of the discovery,—"it
comes to me direct from the Cosmos! "
Chapter II.
There was a chuckle from behind the neighbouring hedge, and, as the Philo-
sopher returned to his sanctum to write a paper on the " Spectra of Meteorites,"
a small boy stepped cautiously out into the road, and hurried down the lane.
" Ooray ! " muttered the small boy to himself; "the old gent don't know my
name. What did he say about' Crismas' ? " And he vanished into space.
Chapter III.
The Philosopher, with aching head, sat down to write, and penned these
words,—
" Cosmical space is filled with meteorites of all sizes, flying about with immense
velocities in all directions."
"Good Heavens! or, rather, Bad Heavens!" exclaimed "a simple-minded
visitor, to whom he read this statement, " why, ' Cosmical space' must be un-
commonly like a proclaimed district in Ireland, or Trafalgar Square during a
Socialist riot."
The Philosopher perceived that he was not in the presence of a sympathetic
mind, and regretted having invited the visitor to lunch.
Chapter IV.
After lunch, Mr. Noman Luckier resumed his work. The simple-minded
friend followed him into his study, seated himself in the most comfortable chair,
lit a cigar, and produced from his pocket a handy-volume edition of Pickwick.
Oddlv enough he commenced reading the concluding portion of Chapter
XXXVIII. of that immortal work, which records how an elderly gentleman of
scientific attainments suddenly observed certain extraordinary and wonderful
phenomena, whioh he immediately concluded "it had been reserved for him
alone to discover, and which he should immortalise his name by chronicling for
the benefit of posterity. Full of this idea, the scientific gentleman seized the
pen" and began writing " sundry notes of these unparalleled appearances . . . .
which were to form the data of a voluminous treatise of great research and deep
learning, which should astonish all the atmospherical wiseacres that ever drew
breath in any part of the civilised globe." Subsequently, after a sharp shock
which "stunned him for a full quarter of an hour," produced by Sa?n Welter's
fist, the scientific gentleman retired to his library, and there composed a masterly
treatise which " delighted all the Scientific Associations beyond measure, and
caused him to be considered a light of science ever afterwards."
The simple-minded friend, having finished his cigar, replaced Pickwick in
his pocket, and, smiling gently, stole out of the study on tiptoe, leaving Mr.
Noman Luckier profoundly absorbed in his " Preliminary Notes."
The boy, whose name was not Cosmos, is still at large,—and so is Cosmos,
very much so.
A LITERAEY FIND.
Dear Mr. Punch,
A very intelligent threadbare man, evidently something of a soholar,
has just put me in possession of a manuscript of incalculable importance. It is
a drama called Piccoviccius, evidently of the Elizabethan era, though brought
into harmony with modern diction and orthography by a later hand. A careful
perusal of ttiis priceless survival makes it certain that Shakspeare was not only
familiar with it. but that he drew very largely from it even to " cribbing ' the
names of many of the characters bodily. This is not so remarkable, considering
the very slight right Shakspeare has, in the opinion of the best critics, to the
authorship of his own plays, as the fact that Dickens also had studied Picco-
viccius, and founded upon it his Pichwick Papers, with an effrontery almost
worthy of the Swan of Avon himself. Here is a slightly-edited selection from
the First Act, so your readers can judge for themselves.
Yours, bursting with importance, Roderick Tweddle.
P.S.—I have just founded a Piccoviccius Society. The subscription is £2 2s.,
paid in advance. Members can read their own papers at any time, and have
them printed, at a reduced, price, in our " Transactions."
Scene from Act I,—Romeo's Garden in Kent. Romeo, Bernardo.
Ber. News, news, my Romeo ! The world's upso down.
Duke Piccoviccius hath broke the law,
Is under guard, and will be banished.
Horn. Banished ? Great Heaven!
Ber. Banished, certainly
As eggs dissemble not their property. , — - — —j —-—7 . . ,
Bom. But why, how, when and where P "What did the Duke ? | Ariel. I ask, Who are the plagiarists ? K. 1
Ber. Thou knowest the scheme he long had pondered on,
To go among his people, like themselves,
As went through Bagdad's streets the Caliph wise.
Bom. Yea, I remember; and the hour arrived,
When, having delegated his main pow'rs
To Jingulus, and the Exchequer's charge
To careful Dodson and to subtle Fogg,
He, with no rites of State observ'd, set forth
With Tupman, Snodgrass, Winkle, in his train;
Tupman, who to experience in love
Still superadds the ardour of the boy;
Snodquass, the poet-treasurer of thought,
And singer of an unexpressive song,
And Winkle, Nimrod's peer. TheBe four set forth,
Due to return the seventh day from hence ;
But I that selfsame hour came hitherward,
And since have heard no news of Court at all.
Ber. Thus then I briefly tell thee what hath pass'd.
There came last week with 'plaining to the Court
A comely widow, who made oath that one
Who sojourned as a lodger in her house
Had promised marriage, but had gone away;
Left her, and left his promise unfultill'd.
Guided by her, the officers had gone
To seize the culprit, and had found 'twas none
But Piccoviccius, whom she claim'd with tears.
So he and those three lords were strait convey'd
Unto the Court, and put to interrogatories,
When this preliminary was advanced:—
The Duke had lodging in Bardella's house-
So is the widow named ; and on a day
Came these lords, usher'd by Bardella's son,
Unto his chamber, but on the threshold stay'd
Still as Lot's wife, in mere astonishment.
For there their staid and reverend leader stood,
Silent as they, supporting in his arms
The buxom widow, in a swoon of bliss.
Thus had they stood, confounded and amazed,
Till life returning gave Bardella speech,
But that the urchin, in a filial frenzy,
Butting like petulant kid, assailed the Duke,
And with the puissance of his puny arms
Avenged imagined injury. Then they,
Roused by the pious bowlings of the boy
And agonised appeals of whom he smote,
Bore off the pigmy valour, and the mother,
Reviving, led away. The Duke averr'd
That, breaking to her of his new-found wish
To take into his service one Wellerius,
A shrewd and faithful henchman, she at once
Through rapid stages of affection ran,
And threw herself, in fine, upon his neck,
And thus was found, he speechless with surprise,
They, after, silent, striving to believe.
Bom. It is a tale incredible and bald.
Ber. Why so thought many ; but this Jingulus
Is all compassion for the widow's case.
Dodson and Fogg, his seconds in the realm,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Do keep turned on, sans intermission,
Salt pity's main. The people whisper change,
And what they whisper they are fain to make.
The nobles huddle in uncertainty,
Like sheep that meet a cart, the dog behind.
On the Rialto, ere I left this morning,
The hoarse-voiced makers of the books, whose leaves
Are I. 0. U.'s to ruin, vainly laid
Long odds upon the widow.
Bom. 'Tis not death ?
Ber. Nay, only banishment. Whoever breaks
A promise made to wed, to exile goes.
Rom. Will not the widow take a forfeiture ?
Ber. It cannot be. There is no power in Brentford
Can alter a decree established.
Besides, the very object of the law
Is to prevent the payment of a price
For feelings wounded. The stern punishment
Makes flighty wooers careful, and restrains
The plots of scheming spinsters, who derive
No personal advantage from their suit.
Rom. Then am I shent!
But here the plot thickens, and we are plunged into
the Two Gentlemen of Verona, Samlet. As 1 oh Like It,
and A Winter's Tale, with a strong infusion of DingleV
Dell, and the Fat Boy floating round, like a materialised.
KOTICE-Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will
in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper, io this rule
there will be no exception.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [November 26, 1887.
THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE.
(A Cosmos Story.)
Chapter I.
Mr Noman Luckier, the eminent astronomer, was walking in his garden.
Suddenly he was staggered hy a sharp Mow on the head. Something fell at
his feet. It was not his head. He picked it up. It was a meteoric stone. This
set him thinking.
_ "Here," said he, as he ruhhed his newly-aequired phrenological development
with one hand and held the meteoric stone in the other, "is a solid, ponderable
body, which I can handle, examine, and analyse, and it comes to me," continued
the eminent scientist, extending his arms and looking round him, then direoting
his gaze upwards, his eye dilating with the grandeur of the discovery,—"it
comes to me direct from the Cosmos! "
Chapter II.
There was a chuckle from behind the neighbouring hedge, and, as the Philo-
sopher returned to his sanctum to write a paper on the " Spectra of Meteorites,"
a small boy stepped cautiously out into the road, and hurried down the lane.
" Ooray ! " muttered the small boy to himself; "the old gent don't know my
name. What did he say about' Crismas' ? " And he vanished into space.
Chapter III.
The Philosopher, with aching head, sat down to write, and penned these
words,—
" Cosmical space is filled with meteorites of all sizes, flying about with immense
velocities in all directions."
"Good Heavens! or, rather, Bad Heavens!" exclaimed "a simple-minded
visitor, to whom he read this statement, " why, ' Cosmical space' must be un-
commonly like a proclaimed district in Ireland, or Trafalgar Square during a
Socialist riot."
The Philosopher perceived that he was not in the presence of a sympathetic
mind, and regretted having invited the visitor to lunch.
Chapter IV.
After lunch, Mr. Noman Luckier resumed his work. The simple-minded
friend followed him into his study, seated himself in the most comfortable chair,
lit a cigar, and produced from his pocket a handy-volume edition of Pickwick.
Oddlv enough he commenced reading the concluding portion of Chapter
XXXVIII. of that immortal work, which records how an elderly gentleman of
scientific attainments suddenly observed certain extraordinary and wonderful
phenomena, whioh he immediately concluded "it had been reserved for him
alone to discover, and which he should immortalise his name by chronicling for
the benefit of posterity. Full of this idea, the scientific gentleman seized the
pen" and began writing " sundry notes of these unparalleled appearances . . . .
which were to form the data of a voluminous treatise of great research and deep
learning, which should astonish all the atmospherical wiseacres that ever drew
breath in any part of the civilised globe." Subsequently, after a sharp shock
which "stunned him for a full quarter of an hour," produced by Sa?n Welter's
fist, the scientific gentleman retired to his library, and there composed a masterly
treatise which " delighted all the Scientific Associations beyond measure, and
caused him to be considered a light of science ever afterwards."
The simple-minded friend, having finished his cigar, replaced Pickwick in
his pocket, and, smiling gently, stole out of the study on tiptoe, leaving Mr.
Noman Luckier profoundly absorbed in his " Preliminary Notes."
The boy, whose name was not Cosmos, is still at large,—and so is Cosmos,
very much so.
A LITERAEY FIND.
Dear Mr. Punch,
A very intelligent threadbare man, evidently something of a soholar,
has just put me in possession of a manuscript of incalculable importance. It is
a drama called Piccoviccius, evidently of the Elizabethan era, though brought
into harmony with modern diction and orthography by a later hand. A careful
perusal of ttiis priceless survival makes it certain that Shakspeare was not only
familiar with it. but that he drew very largely from it even to " cribbing ' the
names of many of the characters bodily. This is not so remarkable, considering
the very slight right Shakspeare has, in the opinion of the best critics, to the
authorship of his own plays, as the fact that Dickens also had studied Picco-
viccius, and founded upon it his Pichwick Papers, with an effrontery almost
worthy of the Swan of Avon himself. Here is a slightly-edited selection from
the First Act, so your readers can judge for themselves.
Yours, bursting with importance, Roderick Tweddle.
P.S.—I have just founded a Piccoviccius Society. The subscription is £2 2s.,
paid in advance. Members can read their own papers at any time, and have
them printed, at a reduced, price, in our " Transactions."
Scene from Act I,—Romeo's Garden in Kent. Romeo, Bernardo.
Ber. News, news, my Romeo ! The world's upso down.
Duke Piccoviccius hath broke the law,
Is under guard, and will be banished.
Horn. Banished ? Great Heaven!
Ber. Banished, certainly
As eggs dissemble not their property. , — - — —j —-—7 . . ,
Bom. But why, how, when and where P "What did the Duke ? | Ariel. I ask, Who are the plagiarists ? K. 1
Ber. Thou knowest the scheme he long had pondered on,
To go among his people, like themselves,
As went through Bagdad's streets the Caliph wise.
Bom. Yea, I remember; and the hour arrived,
When, having delegated his main pow'rs
To Jingulus, and the Exchequer's charge
To careful Dodson and to subtle Fogg,
He, with no rites of State observ'd, set forth
With Tupman, Snodgrass, Winkle, in his train;
Tupman, who to experience in love
Still superadds the ardour of the boy;
Snodquass, the poet-treasurer of thought,
And singer of an unexpressive song,
And Winkle, Nimrod's peer. TheBe four set forth,
Due to return the seventh day from hence ;
But I that selfsame hour came hitherward,
And since have heard no news of Court at all.
Ber. Thus then I briefly tell thee what hath pass'd.
There came last week with 'plaining to the Court
A comely widow, who made oath that one
Who sojourned as a lodger in her house
Had promised marriage, but had gone away;
Left her, and left his promise unfultill'd.
Guided by her, the officers had gone
To seize the culprit, and had found 'twas none
But Piccoviccius, whom she claim'd with tears.
So he and those three lords were strait convey'd
Unto the Court, and put to interrogatories,
When this preliminary was advanced:—
The Duke had lodging in Bardella's house-
So is the widow named ; and on a day
Came these lords, usher'd by Bardella's son,
Unto his chamber, but on the threshold stay'd
Still as Lot's wife, in mere astonishment.
For there their staid and reverend leader stood,
Silent as they, supporting in his arms
The buxom widow, in a swoon of bliss.
Thus had they stood, confounded and amazed,
Till life returning gave Bardella speech,
But that the urchin, in a filial frenzy,
Butting like petulant kid, assailed the Duke,
And with the puissance of his puny arms
Avenged imagined injury. Then they,
Roused by the pious bowlings of the boy
And agonised appeals of whom he smote,
Bore off the pigmy valour, and the mother,
Reviving, led away. The Duke averr'd
That, breaking to her of his new-found wish
To take into his service one Wellerius,
A shrewd and faithful henchman, she at once
Through rapid stages of affection ran,
And threw herself, in fine, upon his neck,
And thus was found, he speechless with surprise,
They, after, silent, striving to believe.
Bom. It is a tale incredible and bald.
Ber. Why so thought many ; but this Jingulus
Is all compassion for the widow's case.
Dodson and Fogg, his seconds in the realm,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Do keep turned on, sans intermission,
Salt pity's main. The people whisper change,
And what they whisper they are fain to make.
The nobles huddle in uncertainty,
Like sheep that meet a cart, the dog behind.
On the Rialto, ere I left this morning,
The hoarse-voiced makers of the books, whose leaves
Are I. 0. U.'s to ruin, vainly laid
Long odds upon the widow.
Bom. 'Tis not death ?
Ber. Nay, only banishment. Whoever breaks
A promise made to wed, to exile goes.
Rom. Will not the widow take a forfeiture ?
Ber. It cannot be. There is no power in Brentford
Can alter a decree established.
Besides, the very object of the law
Is to prevent the payment of a price
For feelings wounded. The stern punishment
Makes flighty wooers careful, and restrains
The plots of scheming spinsters, who derive
No personal advantage from their suit.
Rom. Then am I shent!
But here the plot thickens, and we are plunged into
the Two Gentlemen of Verona, Samlet. As 1 oh Like It,
and A Winter's Tale, with a strong infusion of DingleV
Dell, and the Fat Boy floating round, like a materialised.
KOTICE-Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will
in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper, io this rule
there will be no exception.