Punch or The London charivari (1.1841)

136

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

PUNCH'S HISTRIONIC READINGS IN HISTORY.

no. i.-england.

Of the early historv of England nothing is Known. It was,
however, invaded by the Normans; but whether they were any
relations of the once celebrated Norman the pantaloon, we have no
authentic record. The kingdom had at one time seven kings—two
of whom were probably tbe two well-known kings of Brentford.
Perhaps, also, the king of Little Britain made a third ; while old
king Cole may have constituted a fourth ; thus leaving only a trifling
oalance of three to be accounted for.

Alfred the <>reat is supposed to have been originally a baker, from
nis having undertaken the task of watching the cakes in the neat-
herd's oven ; and Edward the Black Prince was probably a West
Indian, who found his way to our hospitable shores at an early
period.

We now come to King John, who ascended the throne after putting
out his nephew's eyes with a pair of curling-irons, and who is the first
English Sovereign who attempted to write his own name; for the
scrawl is evidently something more than his mark, which is attached
to Magna Charta.

We need say nothing of Richard the Third, with whom all our
play-going friends are familiar, and who made the disgraceful offer,
if Shakspeare is to be believed, of parting with the whole kingdom for
a horse, though it does not appear that the disreputable bargain was
ever completed.

The wars of York and Lancaster, which, though not exactly
couloir tie rose, were on the subject of white and red roses (that is to
say, China and cabbage), united the crown in the person of Henry
the Seventh, known to the play-going public as the Duke of Rich-
mond, and remarkable for having entered the country by the Lincoln-
shire fens ; for he talks of having got into " the bowels of the land "
immediately on his arrival.

Henry the Eighth, as everybody knows, was the husband of seven
wives, and gave to Mr. Almar (the Sadler's Wells Stephens) the idea
of his beautiful dramatic poem of the Wife of Seven Husbands.

Elizabeth's reign is remarkable for having produced a mantle
which is worn at the present day, it having been originally made for
one Shakspeare ; but it is now worn by Mr. George Stephens, for
whom, however, it is a palpable misfit, and it sits upon him most
awkwardly.

Charles the First had his head cut off, and Mr. Cathcart acted
him so naturally in Miss Mitford's play that one would have
thought the monarch was entirely without a head all through the
tragedy.

Cromwell next obtained the chief authority. This man was a
brewer, who did not think -'small beer" of himself, and inundated
his country with '-heavy wet," in the shape of tears, for a long
period.

Charles the Second, well known as the merry monarch, is remark-
able only for his profligacy, and for the number of very bad farces in
which he has been the principal character. His brother James had
a short reign, but not a merry one. He is the only English sovereign
who may be said to have amputated Ida bludgeon; which, if we were
speaking of an ordinary man and not a monarch, we should have
rendered by the familiar phrase of " cut his stick," a process which
was soon performed by his majesty.

The crown now devolved upon William and Mary, upon whom
half-a crown a-piece was thus settled by the liberality of Parliament.
William was Prince of Orange, a descendant probably of the great
King Pippin.

Anne of Denmark comes next on our list, but of her we shall say
nothing ; and as the Georges who followed her are so near own
time, we shall observe, with regard to them, an equally impenetrable
mystery.

war to the nail.

The British Critic, the high church, in fact, steeple Tory journal, tells its
readers, " if we strike out the first person of Robert's speeches, ay, out of his
whole career, they become a rope untwisted," &c. &c. &c. This excited old
lady is evidently anxious to disfigure the head of the government, by scratching
Sir Robert Peel's I's out.

molar and incisor.

Muntz, in rigging Wakley upon the late article in the Examiner, likening
the member for Finsbury, in his connexion with Sir Robert Peel, " to the bird
which exists by picking the crocodile's teeth," jocularly remarked, "Well, I
never had anv body to pick my teeth." "I should think not, or they would
have chosen a much bette? se'.."

TWENTY POUNDS.

Reader, did you ever want twenty pounds? You have—you have !—I se
it—I know it! Nay, never blush ! Your hand—your hand '
Reader.—Sir, I--

Silence!—nonsense—stuff ; don't, don't prevaricate—own it as I do,- own it
and rejoice.

Reader.—Really, sir, this conduct--

Is strange. Granted; don't draw back; come, a cordial gripe. We are i
friends; we have both suffered from the same cause. There, that's right—
honest palm to palm. Now, how say you—have you ever wanted twenty pounds ?

Reader.-—Frankly, then, I have.

Mind to mind, as hand tc hand. Have you felt as I did ? Did its wa::t
cloi.d the sun, wither the grass, and blight the bud ?
Reader.—It did.

But how, marry, how ? What! you decline confession—so you ma)'—I'll
be more explicit. I was abroad, far from my a father-land "—there's a magic
in the word !—the turf we've played on, the hearts we love, the graves we vene-
rate—all, all combine to concentrate its charm.

Reader.—You are digressing.

Thank you, I am; but I'll resume. While I could buy them, friends indeed
were plenty. Alas ! prudence is seldom co-mate with youth and inexperience.
The golden dream was soon to end—end even with the yellow dross that gave
it birth. Fallacious hopes of coining ' posts," averted for a time my cominz
wretchedness—three weeks, and not a line ! The landlord suffered from an
intermitting affection, characteristic of the " stiff-necked generation;"—he
bowed to others—galvanism could not have procured the tithe of a salaam
for me. His till was afflicted with a sort of sinking-fundishness. I was the
contractor of "the small bill," whose exact amount would enable him to meet
a "heavy payment;" my very garments were " tabooed " from all earth's
decencies ; splashes seemed to have taken a lease of the bottoms of my trousers.
My boots, once objects of the teuderest care of their unworthy namesake, seemed
conscious of the change, and drooped in untreed wretchedness, desponding at the
wretched wrinkles now ruffling the once smooth calf! My coat no more appeared
to catch the dust; as if under the influence of some invisible charm, its white-
washed elbows never struck upon the sight of the else all-seeing boots; spider
never rushed from his cell with the post-haste speed with which he issued from
his dark recess, to pick the slightest cobweb that ever harnessed Queen Mab's
team, from other coats; a gnat, a wandering hair left its location, swept by the
angry brush from the broad-cloth of those who paid their bills—as far as I was
concerned —all were inoculated with this strange blindness. It was an over-
whelming ophthalmia ! The chambermaid, through its fatality, never discovered
that mv jugs were emptv, my bottle clothed with slimy green, my soap-dish left
untenanted. A day before this time had been sufficient service for my hand-
towel ; now a week seemed to render it less fit to taste the rubs of hands and soap.
Dust lost its vice, and lav unheeded in the crammed corner of my luckless room.

Reader.—I feel for you.

Silence ! the worst is yet to come. At dinner all things changed—soup,
before too hot to drink, came to my lips cool as if the north wind had caressed
it; number was at an end; I rauked no longer like a human being; I was a
huge ought—a walking cypher-—a vile round O. I had neither beginning nor
end. Go where I would—top, bottom, sides, 'twas all the same. Bouilli
avoided me—vegetables declined growing under my eyes—fowls fled from me
I might as well have longed for ice-cream in Iceland—dessert in a desert. I
had no turn—I was the last man. Nevertheless, dinner was a necessary evil.

Reader__And tea?

Was excluded from the calendar. Night came, but no test—all things had
forgotten their office. The sheets huddled in undisturbed selfishness, like
knotted cables, in one corner of the bed ; the blankets, doubtless disgusted at
their conduct, sought refuge at the foot ; and the flock, like most other flocks,
without a directing hand, was scattered in disjointed heaps.

Reader.—Did not you complain ?

I did—imprimis—to boots—boots scratched his head ; ditto waiter—waiter
shook his ; the chambermaid, strange to say, was suddenly deaf.
Reader.—And the landlord?

Did nothing all day; but when 1 spoke, was in a hurry, "going to his
ledger." Had I had as many mouths as hydra, that would have stopped them all.
Reader.—You were to be pitied.

I was. I rose one morning with the sun—it scorched my face, but shone
not. Nature was in her spring-time to all others, though winter to me. I wan-
dered beside the banks of the rapid Rhine, I saw nothing but the thick slime
that clogged them, and wondered how I could have thought them beautiful ; the
pebbles seemed crushed upon the beach, the stream but added to their lifeless-
ness by heaping on them its dull green slime: tbe lark, indeed, was singing—
Juliet was right—its notes were nothing but " harsh discords and unpleasing
sharps"—a rainbow threw its varied arch across the heavens—sadness had
robbed it of its charm—it seemed a visionary cheat—a beautiful delusion.

Readkr.—I feel with you.

I thank you. I went next day.

Reader.—What then ?

The glorious sun shed life and joy around—the clear water rushed bounding
on in glad delight to the sweet music of the scented wind—the pebbly beach
welcomed its chaste cool kiss, and smiled in freshness as it rolled again back to
its pristine bed. The buds on which I stepped, elastic with high hope, spruujj
from the ground my foot had pressed them to—the lark—