DOI Heft:
September 21, 1889
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17688#0146
September 21, 1889.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
141
A GENTLE HINT.
Groom. “ Beg pardon, Miss ! but if you was to ’it the Saddle a little less ’ard, it ’ud be better for both you and the ’Oss !
“ MERRY MAE,GIT ” AS IT IS.
(Another Communication from the side of the Dear Sea Waves.)
I was told it was greatly improved—that there were alterations
in the sea-front suggestive of the best moments of the Thames
Embankment—that quite “smart” people daily paraded the pier.
So having had enough of “ Urn-bye,” I moved on. The improve-
ments scarcely made themselves felt at the Railway Station. Seem-
ingly they had not attracted what Mr. Jeames would call “the upper
suckles.” There were the customary British middle-class matron
from Peckham, looking her sixty summers to the full in a sailor hat;
the sea-side warrior first cousin to the Billiard-marker Captain with
flashy rings, beefy hands, and a stick of pantomime proportions, and
the theatrical lady whose connection with the stage I imagine was
confined to capering before the footlights. However, they all were
there, as I had seen them any summer these twenty years.
But I had been told to go to the Pier, and so to the Pier I went,
glancing on my way at the entertainers on the sands, many of whom
1 found to he old friends. Amongst them was the “ h ’’-less phreno-
logist, whose insight into character, apparently satisfied the parents of
any child whose head he selected to examine. Thus, if he said that
a particularly stupid-looking little hoy would make a good architect,
schoolmaster, or traveller for fancy goods, a gentleman in an alpaca-
coat, and a wide-awake hat would bow gratified acquiescence, a
demonstration that would also be evoked from a lady in a dust
cloak, when the lecturer insisted that a giggling little girl would
make a “ first-rate dressmaker and cutter-out.”
Arrived at the Pier, I found there was twopence to pay for the
privilege of using the extension, which included a restaurant, a hand,
some talented fleas, and a shop with a window partly devoted to the
display of glass tumblers, engraved with legends of an amusing
character, such as “Good old Mother-in-Law,” “Jack’s Night
Cap,” “ Aunt Julia’s Half Pint,” and so on. There were a number
of seats and shelters, and below the level of the shops was a landing-
stage, at which twice a day two steamers from or to London removed
or landed passengers. During the rest of the four-and-twenty hours
it seemed to be occupied by a solitary angler, catching chiefly seaweed.
The Band, in spite of its uniform, was not nearly so military as that
at “Urn Bye.” It contained a pianoforte—an instrument upon
which I found the young gentleman who sold the programmes prac-
tising during a pause between the morning’s selection and. the
afternoon’s performances. But still the Band was a very tuneful
one, and increased the pleasure that the presence of so many delight-
ful promenaders was bound to produce. Many of the ladies who
walked round and round, talking courteously to ’Arry in all his
varieties, wore men’s habits, pur et simple (giving them the semblance
of appearing in their shirt-sleeves), while their heads were adorned
with fair wigs and sailor hats, apparently fixed on together.
These free-and-easy-looking damsels did not seem to find favour
in the eyes of certain other ladies of a sedater type, who regarded
them (over their novels) with undisguised, contempt. These other
ladies, I should think, from their conversation and appearance, must
have been the very flowers of the flock of Brixton Rise, and the
creme de la creme of Peckham Rye society. Of course there were
a number of more or less known actors and actresses from London,
some of them enjoying a brief holiday, and others engaged in the less
lucrative occupation of “ resting.”
However, the dropping of “h’s,” even to the accompaniment of
sweet music, sooner or later becomes monotonous, and so, after
awhile, I was glad to leave the Pier for the attractions of the Upper
Cliff. On my way I passed a Palace of Pleasure or Yarieties, or
Something wherein a twopenny wax-work show, seemed at the
moment to be one of its greatest attractions. This Show contained a
Chamber of Horrors, a scene full of quiet humour of Napoleon the
Third Lying in State, and an old Effigy of George the There. The
Collection included the waxen head of a Nonconformist Minister, who,
according to the lecturer, had been “ Wery good to the poor,’’ pre-
served in a small deal-box. There was also the “ Key-Dyevie ” of
Egypt, General Gordon, and Mrs. Maybrick. Tearing myself away
from these miscellaneous memories of the past, I ascended to the East
Cliff, which had still the “ apartments-furnished ” look that was wont
to distinguish it of yore. There was no change there ; and as I walked
through the town, which once, as a watering-place, was second only in
importance to Bath,—which a century ago had for its M.C. a rival of
Beau Nash,—I could not help thinking how astonished the ghosts of
the fine ladies and gentlemen who visited ‘ ‘ Meregate ” in 1789 must be,
if they are able to see their successors of to-day—“ Good Old Chawlie
Cadd,” and Miss Topsie Stuart Plantagenet, nee Tompkins.
141
A GENTLE HINT.
Groom. “ Beg pardon, Miss ! but if you was to ’it the Saddle a little less ’ard, it ’ud be better for both you and the ’Oss !
“ MERRY MAE,GIT ” AS IT IS.
(Another Communication from the side of the Dear Sea Waves.)
I was told it was greatly improved—that there were alterations
in the sea-front suggestive of the best moments of the Thames
Embankment—that quite “smart” people daily paraded the pier.
So having had enough of “ Urn-bye,” I moved on. The improve-
ments scarcely made themselves felt at the Railway Station. Seem-
ingly they had not attracted what Mr. Jeames would call “the upper
suckles.” There were the customary British middle-class matron
from Peckham, looking her sixty summers to the full in a sailor hat;
the sea-side warrior first cousin to the Billiard-marker Captain with
flashy rings, beefy hands, and a stick of pantomime proportions, and
the theatrical lady whose connection with the stage I imagine was
confined to capering before the footlights. However, they all were
there, as I had seen them any summer these twenty years.
But I had been told to go to the Pier, and so to the Pier I went,
glancing on my way at the entertainers on the sands, many of whom
1 found to he old friends. Amongst them was the “ h ’’-less phreno-
logist, whose insight into character, apparently satisfied the parents of
any child whose head he selected to examine. Thus, if he said that
a particularly stupid-looking little hoy would make a good architect,
schoolmaster, or traveller for fancy goods, a gentleman in an alpaca-
coat, and a wide-awake hat would bow gratified acquiescence, a
demonstration that would also be evoked from a lady in a dust
cloak, when the lecturer insisted that a giggling little girl would
make a “ first-rate dressmaker and cutter-out.”
Arrived at the Pier, I found there was twopence to pay for the
privilege of using the extension, which included a restaurant, a hand,
some talented fleas, and a shop with a window partly devoted to the
display of glass tumblers, engraved with legends of an amusing
character, such as “Good old Mother-in-Law,” “Jack’s Night
Cap,” “ Aunt Julia’s Half Pint,” and so on. There were a number
of seats and shelters, and below the level of the shops was a landing-
stage, at which twice a day two steamers from or to London removed
or landed passengers. During the rest of the four-and-twenty hours
it seemed to be occupied by a solitary angler, catching chiefly seaweed.
The Band, in spite of its uniform, was not nearly so military as that
at “Urn Bye.” It contained a pianoforte—an instrument upon
which I found the young gentleman who sold the programmes prac-
tising during a pause between the morning’s selection and. the
afternoon’s performances. But still the Band was a very tuneful
one, and increased the pleasure that the presence of so many delight-
ful promenaders was bound to produce. Many of the ladies who
walked round and round, talking courteously to ’Arry in all his
varieties, wore men’s habits, pur et simple (giving them the semblance
of appearing in their shirt-sleeves), while their heads were adorned
with fair wigs and sailor hats, apparently fixed on together.
These free-and-easy-looking damsels did not seem to find favour
in the eyes of certain other ladies of a sedater type, who regarded
them (over their novels) with undisguised, contempt. These other
ladies, I should think, from their conversation and appearance, must
have been the very flowers of the flock of Brixton Rise, and the
creme de la creme of Peckham Rye society. Of course there were
a number of more or less known actors and actresses from London,
some of them enjoying a brief holiday, and others engaged in the less
lucrative occupation of “ resting.”
However, the dropping of “h’s,” even to the accompaniment of
sweet music, sooner or later becomes monotonous, and so, after
awhile, I was glad to leave the Pier for the attractions of the Upper
Cliff. On my way I passed a Palace of Pleasure or Yarieties, or
Something wherein a twopenny wax-work show, seemed at the
moment to be one of its greatest attractions. This Show contained a
Chamber of Horrors, a scene full of quiet humour of Napoleon the
Third Lying in State, and an old Effigy of George the There. The
Collection included the waxen head of a Nonconformist Minister, who,
according to the lecturer, had been “ Wery good to the poor,’’ pre-
served in a small deal-box. There was also the “ Key-Dyevie ” of
Egypt, General Gordon, and Mrs. Maybrick. Tearing myself away
from these miscellaneous memories of the past, I ascended to the East
Cliff, which had still the “ apartments-furnished ” look that was wont
to distinguish it of yore. There was no change there ; and as I walked
through the town, which once, as a watering-place, was second only in
importance to Bath,—which a century ago had for its M.C. a rival of
Beau Nash,—I could not help thinking how astonished the ghosts of
the fine ladies and gentlemen who visited ‘ ‘ Meregate ” in 1789 must be,
if they are able to see their successors of to-day—“ Good Old Chawlie
Cadd,” and Miss Topsie Stuart Plantagenet, nee Tompkins.