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Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 1, August 7, 1841
Author: Various
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 1, August 7, 1841" ***

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VOL. 1.


       *       *       *       *       *



_In Four Chapters._

  "His name 'tis proper you should hear,
    'Twas Timothy Thady Mulligin:
  And whenever he finish'd his tumbler of punch,
    He always wished it full agin."


[Illustration: Y]"You can have no idea, Jack, how deeply the loss of those
venerated family retainers affected me."

My uncle paused. I perceived that his eyes were full, and his tumbler
empty; I therefore thought it advisable to divert his sorrow, by reminding
him of our national proverb, "_Iss farr doch na skeal_[1]."

    [1] A drink is better than a story.

The old man's eyes glistened with pleasure, as he grasped my hand, saying,
"I see, Jack, you are worthy of your name. I was afraid that
school-learning and college would have spoiled your taste for honest
drinking; but the right drop is in you still, my boy. I mentioned,"
continued he, resuming the thread of his story, "that my grandfather died,
leaving to his heirs the topped boots, spurs, buckskin-breeches, and red
waistcoat; but it is about the first-mentioned articles I mean especially
to speak, as it was mainly through their respectable appearance that so
many excellent matches and successful negotiations have been concluded by
our family. If one of our cousins was about to wait on his landlord or his
sweetheart, if he meditated taking a farm or a wife, 'the tops' were
instantly brushed up, and put into requisition. Indeed, so fortunate had
they been in all the matrimonial embassies to which they had been attached,
that they acquired the name of 'the wife-catchers,' amongst the young
fellows of our family. Something of the favour they enjoyed in the eyes of
the fair sex should, perhaps, be attributed to the fact, that all the
Duffys were fine strapping fellows, with legs that seemed made for setting
off topped boots to the best advantage.

"Well, years rolled by; the sons of mothers whose hearts had been won by
the irresistible buckism of Shawn Duffy's boots, grew to maturity, and, in
their turn, furbished up 'the wife-catchers,' when intent upon invading the
affections of other rustic fair ones. At length these invaluable relics
descended to me, as the representative of our family. It was ten years on
last Lady-day since they came into my possession, and I am proud to say,
that during that time the Duffys and 'the wife-catchers' lost nothing of
the reputation they had previously gained, for no less than nineteen
marriages and ninety-six christenings have occurred in our family during
the time. I had every hope, too, that another chalk would have been added
to the matrimonial tally, and that I should have the pleasure of completing
the score before Lent; for, one evening, about four months ago, I received
a note from your cousin Peter, informing me that he intended riding over,
on the following Sunday, to Miss Peggy Haggarty's, for the purpose of
popping the question, and requesting of me the loan of the lucky
'wife-catchers' for the occasion.

"I need not tell you I was delighted to oblige poor Peter, who is the best
fellow and surest shot in the county, and accordingly took down the boots
from their peg in the hall. Through the negligence of the servant they have
been hung up in a damp state, and had become covered with blue mould. In
order to render them decent and comfortable for Peter, I placed them to dry
inside the fender, opposite the fire; then lighting my pipe, I threw myself
back in my chair, and as the fragrant fumes of the Indian weed curled and
wreathed around my head, with half-closed eyes turned upon the renowned
'wife-catchers,' I indulged in delightful visions of future weddings and
christenings, and recalled, with a sigh, the many pleasant ones I had
witnessed in their company."

Here my uncle applied the tumbler to his face to conceal his emotion. "I
brought to mind," he continued (ordering; in a parenthesis, another jug of
boiling water), "I brought to mind the first time I had myself sported the
envied 'wife-catchers' at the _pattron_ of Moycullen. I was then as wild a
blade as any in Connaught, and the 'tops' were in the prime of their
beauty. In fact, I am not guilty of flattery or egotism in saying, that the
girl who could then turn up her nose at the boots, or their master, must
have been devilish hard to please. But though the hey-day of our youth had
passed, I consoled myself with the reflection that with the help of the
saints, and a pair of new soles, we might yet hold out to marry and bury
three generations to come.

"As these anticipations passed through my mind, I was startled by a sudden
rustling near me. I raised my eyes to discover the cause, and fancy my
surprise when I beheld 'the wife-catchers,' by some marvellous power,
suddenly become animated, gradually elongating and altering themselves,
until they assumed the appearance of a couple of tall gentlemen clad in
black, with extremely sallow countenances; and what was still more
extraordinary, though they possessed separate bodies, their actions seemed
to be governed by a single mind. I stared, and doubtless so would you,
Jack, had you been in my place; but my astonishment was at its height, when
the partners, keeping side by side as closely as the Siamese twins, stepped
gracefully over the fender, and taking a seat directly opposite me,
addressed me in a voice broken by an irrepressible chuckle--

"'Here we are, old boy. Ugh, ugh, ugh, hoo!'

"So I perceive, gentlemen," I replied, rather drily.

"'You look a little alarmed--ugh, ugh, hoo, hoo, hoo!' cried the pair.
'Excuse our laughter--hoo! hoo! hoo! We mean no offence--none whatever.
Ugh, hoo, hoo, hoo! We know we are somewhat changed in appearance.'

"I assured the transformed 'tops' I was delighted in being honoured with
their company, under any shape; hoped they would make themselves quite at
home, and take a glass with me in the friendly way. The friends shook their
heads simultaneously, declining the offer; and he whom I had hitherto known
as the _right_ foot, said in a grave voice:--

"'We feel obliged, sir, but we never take anything but water; moreover, our
business now is to relate to you some of the singular adventures of our
life, convinced, that in your hand they will be given to the world in three
handsome volumes.'

"My curiosity was instantly awakened, and I drew my chair closer to my
communicative friends, who, stretching out their legs, prepared to commence
their recital."

"'Hem!' cried the right foot, who appeared to be the spokesman, clearing
his throat and turning to his companion--'hem! which of our adventures
shall I relate first, brother?'

"'Why,' replied the left foot, after a few moments' reflection, 'I don't
think you can do better than tell our friend the story of Terence Duffy and
the heiress.'

"'Egad! you're right, brother; that was a droll affair:' and then,
addressing himself to me, he continued, 'You remember your Uncle Terence? A
funny dog he was, and in his young days the very devil for lovemaking and
fighting. Look here,' said the speaker, pointing to a small circular
perforation in his side, which had been neatly patched. 'This mark, which I
shall carry with me to my grave, I received in an affair between your uncle
and Captain Donovan of the North Cork Militia. The captain one day asserted
in the public library at Ballybreesthawn, that a certain Miss Biddy
O'Brannigan had hair red as a carrot. This calumny was not long in reaching
the ears of your Uncle Terence, who prided himself on being the champion of
the _sex_ in general, and of Miss Biddy O'Brannigan in particular.
Accordingly he took the earliest opportunity of demanding from the captain
an apology, and a confession that the lady's locks were a beautiful auburn.
The militia hero, who was too courageous to desert his _colours_,
maintained they were red. The result was a meeting on the daisies at four
o'clock in the morning, when the captain's ball grazed your uncle's leg,
and in return he received a compliment from Terence, in the hip, that
spoiled his dancing for life.

"'I will not insult your penetration by telling you what I perceive you are
already aware of, that Terence Duffy was the professed admirer of Miss
Biddy. The affair with Captain Donovan raised him materially in her
estimation, and it was whispered that the hand and fortune of the heiress
were destined for her successful champion. There's an old saying, though,
that the best dog don't always catch the hare, as Terence found to his
cost. He had a rival candidate for the affections of Miss Biddy; but such a
rival--however I will not anticipate.'"

       *       *       *       *       *


  I am thine in _my_ gladness,
    I'm thine in _thy_ tears;
  My love it can change not
    With absence or years.
  Were a dungeon thy dwelling,
    My home it should be,
  For its gloom would be sunshine
    If I were with thee.
  But the light has no beauty
    Of thee, love bereft:
  I am thine, and thine only!
    _Thine!_--over the left!
                    Over the left!

  As the wild Arab hails,
    On his desolate way,
  The palm-tree which tells
    Where the cool fountains play,
  So thy presence is ever
    The herald of bliss,
  For there's love in thy smile,
    And there's joy in thy kiss.
  Thou hast won me--then wear me!
    Of thee, love, bereft,
  I should fade like a flower,
    _Yes!_--over the left!
                  Over the left!

       *       *       *       *       *

A gentleman in Mobile has a watch that goes so fast, he is obliged to
calculate a week back to know the time of day.

A new bass singer has lately appeared at New Orleans, who sings so
remarkably _deep_, it takes nine Kentucky lawyers to understand a single

       *       *       *       *       *


  Why S--e is long-lived at once appears--
  The ass was always famed for _length of ears_.

       *       *       *       *       *




"Creation's heir--the world, the world is mine."--GOLDSMITH.

Philosophers, moralists, poets, in all ages, have never better pleased
themselves or satisfied their readers than when they have descanted upon,
deplored, and denounced the pernicious influence of money upon the heart
and the understanding. "Filthy lucre"--"so much trash as may be grasped
thus"--"yellow mischief," I know not, or choose not, to recount how many
justly injurious names have been applied to coin by those who knew, because
they had felt, its consequences. Wherefore, I say at once, it is better to
have none on't--to live without it. And yet, now I think better upon that
point, it is well not altogether to discourage its approach. On the
contrary, lay hold upon it, seize it, rescue it from hands which in all
probability would work ruin with it, and resolutely refuse, when it is once
got, to let it go out of your grasp. Let no absurd talk about quittance,
discharge, remuneration, payment, induce the holder to relax from his
inflexible purpose of palm. Pay, like party, is the madness of many for the
gain of a few.

Unhappily, vile gold, or its representation or equivalent, has been, during
many centuries, the sole medium through which the majority of mankind have
supplied their wants, or ministered to their luxuries. It is high time that
a sage should arise to expound how the discerning few--those who have the
wit and the will (both must concur to the great end) may live--LIVE--not
like him who buys and balances himself by the book of the groveller who
wrote "How to _Live_ upon Fifty Pounds a Year"--(O shame to manhood!)--but
live, I say--"be free and merry"--"laugh and grow fat"--exchange the
courtesies of life--be a pattern of the "minor morals"--and yet: all this
without a doit in bank, bureau, or breeches' pocket.

I am that sage. Let none deride. Haply, I shall only remind some, but I may
teach many. Those that come to scoff, may perchance go home to prey.

Let no gentleman of the old school (for whom, indeed, my brief treatise is
not designed) be startled when I advance this proposition: That more
discreditable methods are daily practised by those who live to get money,
than are resorted to by those who without money are nevertheless under the
necessity of living. If this proposition be assented to--as, in truth, I
know not how it can be gainsaid,--nothing need be urged in vindication of
my art of _free_ living. Proceed I then at once.

Here is a youth of promise--born, like Jaffier, with "elegant desires"--one
who does not agnize a prompt alacrity in carrying burdens--one, rather, who
recognizes a moral and physical unfitness for such, and indeed all other
dorsal and manual operations--one who has been born a Briton, and would
not, therefore, sell his birthright for a mess of pottage; but, on the
contrary, holds that his birthright entitles him to as many messes of
pottage as there may be days to his mortal span, though time's fingers
stretched beyond the distance allotted to extreme Parr or extremest
Jenkins. "Elegant desires" are gratified to the extent I purpose treating
of them, by handsome clothes--comfortable lodgings--good dinners.

1st. _Of Handsome Clothes._--Here, I confess, I find myself in some
difficulty. The man who knows not how to have his name entered in the
day-book of a tailor, is not one who could derive any benefit from
instruction of mine. He must be a born natural. Why, it comes by instinct.

2nd. _Of Comfortable Lodgings._--Easily obtained and secured. The easiest
thing in life. But the wit without money must possess very little more of
the former than of the latter, if he do not, even when snugly ensconced in
one splendid suite of apartments, have his eye upon many others; for
landladies are sometimes vexatiously impertinent, and novelty is desirable.
Besides, his departure may be (nay, often is) extremely sudden. When in
quest of apartments, I have found tarnished cards in the windows
preferable. They imply a length of vacancy of the floor, and a consequent
relaxation of those narrow, worldly (some call them prudent) scruples,
which landladies are apt to nourish. Hints of a regular income, payable
four times a year, have their weight; nay, often convert weekly into
quarterly lodgings. Be sure there are no children in your house. They are
vociferous when you would enjoy domestic retirement, and inquisitive when
you take the air. Once (_horresco referens!_) on returning from my
peripatetics, I was accosted with brutally open-mouthed clamour, by my
landlady, who, dragging me in a state of bewilderment into her room,
pointed to numerous specimens of granite, which her "young people" had, in
their unhallowed thirst for knowledge, discovered and drawn from my trunk,
which, by some strange mischance, had been left unlocked! In vain I mumbled
something touching my love of mineralogy, and that a lapidary had offered I
knew not what for my collection. I was compelled to "bundle," as the
idiomatic, but ignorant woman expressed herself. To resume.

Let not the nervous or sensitive wit imagine that, in a vast metropolis
like London, his chance of securing an appropriate lodging and a confiding
landlady is at all doubtful. He might lodge safe from the past, certain of
the future, till the crash of doom. I shall be met by Ferguson's case.
Ferguson I knew well, and I respected him. But he had a most unfortunate
countenance. It was a very solemn, but by no means a solvent face; and yet
he had a manner with him too, and his language was choice, if not
persuasive. That the matter of his speech was plausible, none ever presumed
to deny. "It is all very well, Mr. Ferguson,"--_that_ was always conceded.
I do not wish to speak ill of the dead; but Ferguson never entered a
lodging without being compelled to pay a fortnight in advance, and always


3rd. _Of Good Dinners._--Wits, like other men, are distinguished by a
variety of tastes and inclinations. Some prefer dining at taverns and
eating-houses; others, more discreet or less daring, love the quiet
security of the private house, with its hospitable inmates, courteous
guests, and no possibility of "bill transactions." I confess when I was
young and inexperienced, wanting that wisdom which I am now happy to
impart, I was a constant frequenter of taverns, eating-houses,
oyster-rooms, and similar places of entertainment. I am old now, and have
been persecuted by a brutal world, and am grown timid. But I was ever a
peaceable man--hated quarrels--never came to words if I could help it. _I
do not recommend the tavern, eating-house, oyster-room system._ These are
the words of wisdom. The waiters at these places are invariably sturdy,
fleet, abusive rascals, who cannot speak and will not listen to reason. To
eat one's dinner, drink a pint of sherry, and then, calling for the bill,
take out one's pocket-book, and post it in its rotation in a neat hand,
informing the waiter the while, that it is a simple debt, and so forth;
this really requires nerve. Great spirits only are equal to it. It is an
innovation upon old, established forms, however absurd--and innovators
bring down upon themselves much obloquy. To run from the score you have run
up--not to pay your shot, but to shoot from payment--this is not always
safe, and invariably spoils digestion. No; it is not more honourable--far
from it--but it is better; for you should strive to become, what is
commonly called--"A Diner Out"--that is to say, one who continues to sit
at the private tables of other men every day of his life, and by his so
potent art, succeeds in making them believe that they are very much
obliged to him.

How to be this thing--this "Diner Out"--I shall teach you, by a few short
rules next week. Till then--farewell!

       *       *       *       *       *

Lord William Paget has applied to the Lord Chancellor, to inquire whether
the word "jackass" is not opprobrious and actionable. His lordship says,
"No, decidedly, in this case only synonymous."

       *       *       *       *       *


Sir Robert Peel has convinced us of one thing by his Tamworth speech, that
whatever danger the constitution may be in, he will not proscribe for the
patient until he is _regularly called in_. A beautiful specimen of the old
Tory leaven. Sir Robert objects to give _Advice gratis_.

       *       *       *       *       *


A large assortment of peculiarly fine oyster-shells, warranted fire-proof
and of first-rate quality; exquisitely adapted for the construction of
grottoes. May be seen by cards only, to be procured of Mr. George Robins,
or the clerks of Billingsgate or Hungerfofd markets.

N.B.--Some splendid ground at the corners of popular and well-frequented
streets, to be let on short leases for edifices of the above description.
Apply as before.

       *       *       *       *       *


The following invaluable literary recipes have been most kindly forwarded
by the celebrated Ude. They are the produce of many years' intense study,
and, we must say, the very best things of the sort we have ever met with.
There is much delicacy in M. Ude leaving it to us, as to whether the
communication should be anonymous. We think not, as the peculiarity of the
style would at once establish the talented authorship, and, therefore,
attempted concealment would be considered as the result of a too morbidly
modest feeling.


Take a consummate puppy--M.P.s preferable (as they are generally the
softest, and don't require much pressing)--baste with self-conceit--stuff
with slang--season with maudlin sentiment--hash up with a popular
publisher--simmer down with preparatory advertisements. Add six reams of
gilt-edged paper--grate in a thousand quills--garnish with marble covers,
and morocco backs and corners. Stir up with magazine puffs--skim off
sufficient for preface. Shred scraps of French and small-talk, very fine.
Add "superfine coats"--"satin stocks"--"bouquets"--"opera-boxes"--"a
duel"--an elopement--St. George's Church--silver bride favours--eight
footmen--four postilions--the like number of horses--a "dredger" of
smiles--some filtered tears--half-mourning for a dead uncle (the better if
he has a twitch in his nose), and serve with anything that will bear


(_By the same Author._)

Take a young lady--dress her in blue ribbons--sprinkle with innocence,
spring flowers, and primroses. Procure a Baronet (a Lord if in season); if
not, a depraved "younger son"--trim him with écarté, rouge et noir, Epsom,
Derby, and a slice of Crockford's. Work up with rustic cottage, an aged
father, blind mother, and little brothers and sisters in brown holland
pinafores. Introduce mock abduction--strong dose of virtue and repentance.
Serve up with village church--happy parent--delighted daughter--reformed
rake--blissful brothers--syren sisters--and perfect _dénouement_.

N.B. Season with perspective christening and postponed epitaph.


Take a small boy, charity, factory, carpenter's apprentice, or otherwise,
as occasion may serve--stew him well down in vice--garnish largely with
oaths and flash songs--boil him in a cauldron of crime and improbabilities.
Season equally with good and bad qualities--infuse petty larceny,
affection, benevolence, and burglary, honour and housebreaking, amiability
and arson--boil all gently. Stew down a mad mother--a gang of
robbers--several pistols--a bloody knife. Serve up with a couple of
murders--and season with a hanging-match.

N.B. Alter the ingredients to a beadle and a workhouse--the scenes may be
the same, but the whole flavour of vice will be lost, and the boy will turn
out a perfect pattern.--Strongly recommended for weak stomachs.


Take a young man six feet high--mix up with a horse--draw a squire from his
father's estate (the broad-shouldered and loquacious are the best
sort)--prepare both for potting (that is, exporting). When abroad,
introduce a well-pounded Saracen--a foreign princess--stew down a couple of
dwarfs and a conquered giant--fill two sauce-tureens with a prodigious
ransom. Garnish with garlands and dead Turks. Serve up with a royal
marriage and cloth of gold.


Take a distant village--follow with high-road--introduce and boil down
pedlar, gut his pack, and cut his throat--hang him up by the heels--when
enough, let his brother cut him down--get both into a stew--pepper the real
murderer--grill the innocent for a short time--then take them off, and put
delinquents in their place (these can scarcely be broiled too much, and a
strong fire is particularly recommended). When real perpetrators are
_done_, all is complete.

If the parties have been poor, serve up with mint sauce, and the name of
the enriched sufferer.


Lay in a large stock of "gammon" and pennyroyal--carefully strip and pare
all the tainted parts away, when this can be done without destroying the
whole--wrap it up in printed paper, containing all possible virtues--baste
with flattery, stuff with adulation, garnish with fictitious attributes,
and a strong infusion of sycophancy.

Serve up to prepared courtiers, who have been previously well seasoned with
long-received pensions or sinecures.



Take a beautiful and highly-accomplished young female, imbued with every
virtue, but slightly addicted to bigamy! Let her stew through the first act
as the bride of a condemned convict--then season with a benevolent but very
ignorant lover--add a marriage. Stir up with a gentleman in dusty boots and
large whiskers. _Dredge_ in a meeting, and baste with the knowledge of the
dusty boot proprietor being her husband. Let this steam for some time;
during which, prepare, as a covering, a pair of pistols--carefully insert
the bullet in the head of him of the dusty boots. Dessert--general offering
of LADIES' FINGERS! Serve up with red fire and tableaux.


Take an enormous hero--work him up with improbabilities--dress him in
spangles and a long train--disguise his head as much as possible, as the
great beauty of this dish is to avoid any resemblance to the "_tête de veau
au naturel_."

[Illustration: A TETE A TETE.]

Grill him for three acts. When well worked up, add a murder or large dose
of innocence (according to the palate of the guests)--Season, with a strong
infusion of claqueurs and box orders. Serve up with twelve-sheet posters,
and imaginary Shaksperian announcements.

N.B. Be careful, in cooking the heroes, not to turn their backs _to the
front range_--should you do so the dish will be spoiled.


(_A Domestic Sketch._)

Take a young woman--give her six pounds a year--work up her father and
mother into a viscous paste--bind all with an abandoned poacher--throw in a
"dust of virtue," and a "handful of vice." When the poacher is about to
boil over, put him into another saucepan, let him simmer for some time, and
then he will turn out "lord of the manor," and marry the young woman. Serve
up with bludgeons, handcuffs, a sentimental gaoler, and a large tureen of
innocence preserved.


Take a big man with a loud voice, dress him with a pair of ducks, and, if
pork is comeatable, a pigtail--stuff his jaws with an imitation quid, and
his mouth with a large assortment of _dammes_. Garnish with two
broad-swords and a hornpipe. Boil down a press-gang and six or seven
smugglers, and (if in season) a bo'swain and large
cat-o'-nine-tails.--Sprinkle the dish with two lieutenants, four
midshipmen, and about seven or eight common sailors. Serve up with a pair
of epaulettes and an admiral in a white wig, silk stockings, smalls, and
the Mutiny Act.

       *       *       *       *       *


We have no arrivals to-day, but are looking out anxiously for the overland
mail from Battersea. It is expected that news will be brought of the state
of the mushroom market, and great inconvenience in the mean time is felt by
the dealers, who are holding all they have got, in the anticipation of a
fall; while commodities are, of course, every moment getting heavier.

The London and Westminster steam-boat _Tulip_, with letters from Milbank,
was planted in the mud off Westminster for several hours, and those who
looked for the correspondence, had to look much longer than could have been

The egg market has been in a very unsettled state all the week; and we have
heard whispers of a large breakage in one of the wholesale houses. This is
caused by the dead weight of the packing-cases, to which every house in the
trade is liable. In the fruit market, there is positively nothing doing;
and the _growers_, who are every day becoming _less_, complain bitterly.
Raspberries were very slack, at 2-1/2d. per pottle; but dry goods still
brought their prices. We have heard of several severe smashes in currants,
and the bakers, who, it is said, generally contrive to get a finger in the
pie, are among the sufferers.

The salmon trade is, for the most part, in a pickle; but we should regret
to say anything that might be misinterpreted. The periwinkle and wilk
interest has sustained a severe shock; but potatoes continue to be _done_
much as usual.

       *       *       *       *       *


    "A dinner is to be given to Captain Rous on the 20th inst., at
    which Sir Francis Burdett has promised to preside."--_Morning

  Egyptian revels often boast a guest
  In sparkling robes and blooming chaplets drest;
  But, oh! what loathsomeness is hid beneath--
  A fleshless, mould'ring effigy of death;
  A thing to check the smile and wake the sigh,
  With thoughts that living excellence can die.
  How many at the coming feast will see

       *       *       *       *       *


  "Laselato ogni speranza, voi ch' intrate!"


MR. JOBTICKLER said he had to move in this cause for an injunction to
restrain the Peel Place-hunting Company from entering into possession of
the estates of plaintiff. It appeared from the affidavits on which he
moved, that the defendants, though not in actual possession, laid an
equitable claim to the fee simple of the large estates rightfully belonging
to the plaintiff, over which they were about to exercise sovereign
dominion. They had entered into private treaty with the blind old man who
held the post of chief law-grubber of the Exchequer, offering him a bribe
to pretend illness, and take half his present pay, in order to fasten one
of the young and long-lived leeches--one Sir Frederick Smal-luck--to the
vacant bench. They were about to compel a decentish sort of man, who did
the business of Chancery as well as such business can be done under the
present system, to retire upon half allowance, in order to make room for
one Sir William Fullhat, who had no objection to £14,000 a year and a
peerage. They were about to fill two sub-chancellorships, which they would
not on any account allow the company in the present actual possession of
the estates to fill up with a couple of their own shareholders; and were,
in fine, proceeding to dispose of, by open sale, and by private contract,
the freehold, leasehold, and funded property of plaintiff, to the
incalculable danger of the estate, and to the disregard of decency and
justice. What rendered this assumption and exercise of power the more
intolerable, was, that the persons the most unfit were selected; and as if,
it would appear, from a "hateful love of contraries," the man learned in
law being sent to preside over the business of equity, of which he knew
nothing, and the man learned in equity being entrusted with the direction
of law of which he knew worse than nothing; being obliged to unlearn all he
had previously learnt, before he began to learn his new craft.

LORD HIGH INQUISITOR.--Don't you know, sir, that _poeta nascitur non fit?_
Is not a judge a judge the moment he applies himself to the seat of

MR. JOBTICKLER.--Most undoubtedly it is so, my lord, as your lordship is a
glorious example, but--

LORD HIGH INQUISITOR.--But me no buts, sir. I'll have no allusions made to
my person. What way are the cases on the point you would press on the

MR. JOBTICKLER.--The cases, I am sorry to say, are all in favour of the
Peel Place-hunting Company's proceedings; but the principle, my lord, the

LORD HIGH INQUISITOR.--Principle! What has principle to do with law, Sir?
Really the bar is losing all reverence for authority, all regard for
consistency. I must put a stop to such revolutionary tendencies on the part
of gentlemen who practise in my court. Sit down, sir.

MR. JOBTICKLER.--May my client have the injunction?

LORD HIGH INQUISITOR.--No-o-o-o! But he shall pay all the costs, and I only
wish I could double them for his impertinence. You, sir, you deserve to be
stripped of your gown for insulting the ears of the court with such a

CRIER.--Any more appeals, causes, or motions, in the Supreme Court of the
Lord High Inquisitor Punch, to-day? (A dead silence.)

LORD HIGH INQUISITOR (bowing gracefully to the bar).--Good morning,
gentlemen. You behold how carefully we fulfil the letter of Magna Charta.

  "Nulli vendemus, nulli negabimus, aut differemus rectum vel
  justitiam." [_Exit._]

CRIER.--This Court will sit the next time it is the Lord High Inquisitor's
pleasure that it should sit, and at no other period or time.--God save the

       *       *       *       *       *


[Greek: EIS LYRAN.]

  Apollo! ere the adverse fates
  Gave thy lyre to Mr. Yates[2],
  I have melted at thy strain
  When Bunn reign'd o'er Drury-lane;
  For the music of thy strings
  Haunts the ear when Romer sings.
  But to me _that_ voice is mute!
  Tuneless kettle-drum and flute
  I but hear _one_ liquid lyre--
  Kettle bubbling on the fire,
  Whizzing, fizzing, steaming out
  Music from its curved spot,
  Wak'ning visions by its song
  Of thy nut-brown streams, Souchong;
  Lumps of crystal saccharine--
  Liquid pearl distill'd from kine;
  Nymphs whose gentle voices mingle
  With the silver tea-spoons' jingle!
  Symposiarch I o'er all preside,
  The Pidding of the fragrant tide.
  Such the dreams that fancy brings,
  When my tuneful kettle sings!

    [2] This celebrated instrument now crowns the chaste yet elaborate
        front of the Adelphi Theatre, where full-length effigies of Mr.
        and Mrs. Yates may be seen silently inviting the public to walk

       *       *       *       *       *



7th mo. 29th, 1841.

Friend Reuben,--I am in rect. of thine of 27th inst., and note contents. It
affordeth me consolation that the brig _Hazard_ hath arrived safely in thy
port--whereof I myself was an underwriter--also, that a man-child hath been
born unto thee and to thy faithful spouse Rebecca. Nevertheless, the house
of Crash and Crackitt hath stopped payment, which hath caused sore
lamentation amongst the faithful, who have discounted their paper. It hath
pleased Providence to raise the price of E.I. sugars; the quotations of
B.P. coffee are likewise improving, in both of which articles I am a large
holder. Yet am I not puffed up with foolish vanity, but have girded myself
round with the girdle of lowliness, even as with the band which is all
round my hat! In token whereof, I offered to hand 20 puncheons of the
former, as [Symbol: profit] margin.

There are serious ferments and heartburnings amongst the great ones of this
land: and those that sit on the benches called "The Treasury" are become
sore afraid, for he whom men call Lord John Russell hath had notice to
quit. Thereat, the Tories rejoice mightily, and lick their chops for the
fat morsels and the sops in the pan that Robert the son of _Jenny_ hath
promised unto his followers. Nevertheless, tidings have reached me that a
good spec. might be made in Y.C. tallow, whereon I desire thy opinion; as
also on the practice of stuffing roast turkey with green walnuts, which
hath been highly recommended by certain of the brethren here, who have with
long diligence and great anxiety meditated upon the subject.

And now, I counsel thee, hold fast the change which thou hast, striving
earnestly for that which thou hast not, taking heed especially that no man
comes the "artful" over thee; whereby I caution thee against one Tom
Kitefly of Manchester, whose bills have returned back unto me, clothed with
that unseemly garment which the notary calleth "a protest." Assuredly he is
a viper in the paths of the unwary, and will bewray thee with his fair
speeches; therefore, I say, take heed unto him.

I remain thy friend,
Mincing Lane.

       *       *       *       *       *


Sir,--Seeing in the first number of your paper an announcement from Mr.
Thomas Hood, that he was in want of a laugher, I beg to offer my services
in that comic capacity, and to hand you my card and certificates of my
cachinnatory powers.



    Mr. Toady Chuckle begs to inform wits, punsters, and jokers in
    general that he


   His truly invaluable zest for bad jokes has been patronised by
   several popular farce-writers and parliamentary Pasquins.

   Mr. T.C. always has at command smiles for satire, simpers for
   repartee, sniggers for conundrums, titters for puns, and guffaws for
   jocular anecdotes. By Mr. T.C.'s system, cues for laughter are
   rendered unnecessary, as, from a long course of practical
   experience, the moment of cachinnation is always judiciously

   N.B. The worst Jokes laughed at, and rendered successful. Old Joes
   made to tell as well as new.

           *       *       *       *       *



    Sir,--I feel myself bound in justice to you and your invaluable
    laughter, as well as to others who may be suffering, as I have
    been, with a weakly farce, to inform you of its extraordinary
    results in my case. My bantling was given up by all the faculty,
    when you were happily shown into the boxes. One laugh removed all
    sibillatory indications; a second application of your invaluable
    cachinnation elicited slight applause; whilst a third, in the form
    of a _guffaw_, rendered it perfectly successful.

    From the prevalence of dulness among dramatic writers, I have no
    doubt that your services will be in general requisition.

    I am, yours, very respectfully,
    J.R. Planche.
    C---- C----.

    Sir,--I beg to inform you, for the good of other bad jokers, that I
    deem the introduction of your truly valuable cachinnation one of
    the most important ever made; in proof of which, allow me to state,
    that after a joke of mine had proved a failure for weeks, I was
    induced to try your cachinnation, by the use of which it met with
    unequivocal success; and, I declare, if the cost were five guineas
    a _guffaw_, I would not be without it.

    Yours truly,
    Charles Delaet Waldo Sibthorp (Colonel).

       *       *       *       *       *

"MY NAME'S THE DOCTOR"--(_vide_ Peel's Speech at Tamworth.)

The two doctors, Peel and Russell, who have been so long engaged in
renovating John Bull's "glorious constitution!" though they both adopt the
lowering system at present, differ as to the form of practice to be
pursued. Russell still strenuously advocates his _purge_, while Sir Robert
insists upon the efficacy of _bleeding_.

  "Who shall decide when doctors disagree?"

       *       *       *       *       *



Our opinion is, that science cannot be too familiarly dealt with; and
though too much familiarity certainly breeds contempt, we are only
following the fashion of the day, in rendering science somewhat
contemptible, by the strange liberties that publishers of _Penny
Cyclopædias_, three-halfpenny _Informations_, and twopenny _Stores of
Knowledge_, are prone to take with it.

In order to show that we intend going at high game, we shall begin with the
stars; and if we do not succeed in levelling the heavens to the very
meanest capacity--even to that of

[Illustration: AN INFANT IN ARMS--]

we shall at once give up all claims to the title of an enlightener of the

Every body knows there are planets in the air, which are called the
_planetary_ system. Every one knows our globe goes upon its axis, and has
two poles, but what is the axis, and what the poles are made of--whether of
wood, or any other material--are matters which, as far as the mass are
concerned, are involved in the greatest possible obscurity.

The north pole is chiefly remarkable for no one having ever succeeded in
reaching it, though there seems to have been a regular communication to it
by post in the time of Pope, whose lines--

  "Speed the soft intercourse from zone to zone.
  And waft a sigh from Indus _to the pole_,"

imply, without doubt, that packages reached the pole; not, however, without
regard to the _size_ (SIGHS), which may have been limited.

The sun, every body knows, is very large, and indeed the size has been
ascertained to an inch, though we must say we should like to see the
gentleman who measured it. Astronomers declare there are spots upon it,
which may be the case, unless the _savans_ have been misled by specks of
dirt on the bottom of their telescopes. As these spots are said to
disappear from time to time, we are strongly inclined to think our idea is
the correct one. Some insist that the sun is liquid like water, but if it
were, the probability is, that from its intense heat, the whole must have
boiled away long ago, or put itself out, which is rather more feasible.

We do not think it necessary to go into the planets, for, if we did, it is
not unlikely we should be some time time before we got out again; but we
shall say a few words about our own Earth, in which our readers must, of
course, take a special interest.

It has been decided, that, viewed from the moon, our globe presents a
mottled appearance; but, as this assertion can possibly rest on no better
authority than that of the Man in the Moon, we must decline putting the
smallest faith in it.

It is calculated that a day in the moon lasts just a fortnight, and that
the night is of the same duration. If this be the case, the watchmen in the
moon must be horridly over-worked, and daily labourers must be fatigued in
proportion. When the moon is on the increase, it is seen in the crescent;
but whether Mornington-crescent or Burton-crescent, or any other crescent
in particular, has not been mentioned by either ancient or modern
astronomers. The only articles we get from the moon, are moonlight and
madness. _Lunar_ caustic is not derived from the planet alluded to.

Of the stars, one of the most brilliant is _Sirius_, or _the Dog-star_,
which it is calculated gives just one-twenty-millionth part of the light of
the sun, or about as much as that of a farthing rushlight. It would seem
that such a shabby degree of brilliancy was hardly worth having; but when
it is remembered that it takes three years to come, it really seems hardly
worth while to travel so far to so very little purpose.

The most magnificent of the starry phenomena, is the Milky Way or _Whey_;
and, indeed, the epithet seems superfluous, for all _whey_ is to a certain
extent milky. The _Band of Orion_ is familiar to all of us by name; but it
is not a musical band, as most people are inclined to think it is. Perhaps
the allusion to the _music of the spheres_ may have led to this popular
error, as well as to that which regards Orion's _band_ as one of _wind_

We shall not go into those ingenious calculations that some astronomers
have indulged in, as to the time it would take for a cannon-ball to come
from the sun to the earth, for we really hope the earth will never be
troubled by so unwelcome a visitor. Nor shall we throw out any suggestions
as to how long a bullet would be going from the globe to the moon; for we
do not think any one would be found goose enough to take up his rifle with
the intention of trying the experiment.

Comets are, at present, though very luminous bodies, involved in
considerable obscurity. Though there is plenty of light in comets, we are
almost entirely in the dark concerning them. All we know about them is,
that they are often coming, but never come, and that, after frightening us
every now and then, by threatening destruction to our earth, they turn
sharp off, all of a sudden, and we see no more of them. Astronomers have
spied at them, learned committees have sat upon them, and old women have
been frightened out of their wits by them; but, notwithstanding all this,
the _comet_ is so utterly mysterious, that "thereby _hangs a tail_" is all
we are prepared to say respecting it.

We trust the above remarks will have thrown a light on the sun and moon,
illustrated the stars, and furnished a key to the skies in general; but
those who require further information are referred to Messrs. Adams and
Walker, whose plans of the universe, consisting of several yellow spots on
a few yards of black calico, are exactly the things to give the students of
astronomy a full development of those ideas which it has been our aim to
open out to him.

       *       *       *       *       *


    "With too much blood and too little brain, these two may run mad;
    but if with too much brain and too little blood, they do, I'll be a
    curer of madmen."--_Troilus and Cressida_.

MR. PETER BORTHWICK and Colonel Sibthorpe are both named as candidates for
the Speaker's chair. Peter has a certificate of being "a _bould_ speaker,"
from old Richardson, in whose company he was engaged as parade-clown and
check-taker. The gallant Colonel, however, is decidedly the favourite,
notwithstanding his very ungracious summary of the Whigs some time ago. We
would give one of the buttons off our hump to see


       *       *       *       *       *

MR. JOSEPH MUGGINS begs to inform his old crony, PUNCH, that the report of
Sir John Pullon, "as to the possibility of elevating an ass to the head of
the poll by bribery and corruption" is perfectly correct, provided there is
no abatement in the price. Let him canvass again, and Mr. J.M. pledges
himself, whatever his weight, if he will only stand "one penny more, up
goes the donkey!"


       *       *       *       *       *


Robbed--Melbourne's butcher of his twelvemonth's billings.

Verdict--Stealing under forty shillings.

       *       *       *       *       *


The Chancery bar has been lately occupied with a question relating to a
patent for pins' heads. The costs are estimated at £5000. The lawyers are
the best boxers, after all. Only let them get a _head in chancery_, even a
_pin's_, and see how they make the proprietor _bleed_.

       *       *       *       *       *


Died, Eagle Rouse--Verdict, _Felo de se_.

Induced by being ta'en for--Ross, M.P.

       *       *       *       *       *


When Mr. Rumball was at the Surrey Theatre, the treasurer paid him the
proceeds of a share of a benefit in half-crowns, shillings, and sixpences,
which Rumball boasted that he had carried home on his head. His friends,
from that day, accounted for his _silvery_ hair!

       *       *       *       *       *


We beg to invite attention to the aspect of our Foreign Affairs. It is
dark, lowering, gloomy--some would say, alarming. When it smiles, its
smiles deceive. To use the very mildest term, it is exceedingly suspicious.
Let John Bull look to his pockets.

It is, nevertheless, but a piece of justice to state, that, formidable as
the appearance of Foreign Affairs may be, no blame whatever can, in our
opinion, be attached to Lord Palmerston.

The truth is, that the Foreign Affairs of PUNCH are not the Foreign Affairs
of Politics. They are certain living beings; and we call them Affairs, by
way of compromise with some naturalists, to whom the respective claims of
man and the ape to their relationship may appear as yet undecided.

In their anatomical construction they undoubtedly resemble mankind; they
are also endowed with the faculty of speech. Their clothes, moreover, do
not grow upon their backs, although they look very much as if they did.
They come over here in large numbers from other countries, chiefly from
France; and in London abound in Leicester-square, and are constantly to be
met with under the Quadrant in Regent-street, where they grin, gabble,
chatter, and sometimes dance, to the no small diversion of the passengers.

As these Foreign Affairs have long been the leaders of fashion, and
continue still to give the tone to the manners and sentiments of the
politer circles, where also their language is, perhaps, more frequently
spoken than the vernacular tongue; and as there is something about them--no
matter what--which renders them great favourites with a portion of the
softer sex, we shall endeavour to point out, for the edification of those
who may be disposed to copy them, those peculiarities of person,
deportment, and dress, by which their tribe is distinguished.

We address ourselves more particularly to those whose animal part--every
man is said to resemble, in some respect, one of the lower animals--is made
up of the marmozet and the puppy.

Be it known, then, to all those whom it may concern, that there are, to
speak in a general way, two great classes of Foreign Affairs--the shining
and the dingy.

The characteristic appearance of the former might, perhaps, be obtained by
treating the apparel with a preparation of plumbago or black lead; that of
the latter by the use of some fuliginous substance, as a dye, or, perhaps,
by direct fumigation. The gloss upon the cheeks might be produced by
perseverance in the process of dry-rubbing; the more humid style of visage,
by the application of emollient cataplasms. General sallowness would
result, as a matter of course, from assiduous dissipation. Young gentlemen
thus glazed and varnished, _French_-polished, in fact, from top to toe,
might glitter in the sun like beetles; or adopt, if they preferred it, as
being better adapted for lady-catching, the more sombre guise of the

Foreign Affairs have two opposite modes of wearing the hair; we can
recommend both to those studious of elegance. The locks may be suffered to
flow about the shoulders in ringlets, resembling the tendrils of the vine,
by which means much will be done towards softening down the asperities of
sex; or they may be cropped close to the scalp in such a manner as to
impart a becoming prominence to the ears. When the development of those
appendages is more than usually ample, and when nature has given the head a
particularly stiff and erect covering, descending in two lateral
semicircles, and a central point on the forehead, the last mentioned style
is the more appropriate By its adoption, the most will be made of certain
personal, we might almost say generic, advantages;--we shall call it, in
the language of the Foreign Affairs themselves, the _coiffure à-la-singe_.

Useful hints, with respect to the management of the whiskers, may be
derived from the study of Foreign Affairs. The broad, shorn, smooth extent
of jaw, darkened merely on its denuded surface, and the trimmed regular
fringe surrounding the face, are both, in perhaps equal degrees, worthy of
the attention of the tasteful. The shaggy beard and mustachios, especially,
if aided by the effect of a ferocious scowl, will admirably suit those who
would wish to have an imposing appearance; the chin, with its pointed tuft
_à la capricorne_, will, at all events, ensure distinction from the human
herd; and the decorated upper lip, with its downy growth dyed black, and
gummed (the cheek at the same time having been faintly tinged with rouge,
the locks parted, perfumed, and curled, the waist duly compressed, a slight
addition, if necessary, made to the breadth of the hips, and the feet
confined by the most taper and diminutive _chausserie_ imaginable), will
just serve to give to the _tout ensemble_ that one touch of the masculine
character which, perhaps, it may be well to retain.

The remarkable tightness and plumpness of limbs and person exhibited by
Foreign Affairs cannot have escaped observation. This attractive quality
may be acquired by purchasing the material out of which the clothes are to
be made, and giving the tailor only just as much as may exactly suffice for
the purpose. Its general effect will be much aided by wearing wristbands
turned up over the cuff, and collars turned down upon the stock. An
agreeable contrast of black and white will thus also be produced. Those who
are fonder of harmony will do well to emulate the closely-buttoned sables
likewise worn by a large class of Foreign Affairs, who, affecting a uniform
tint, eschew the ostentation of linen.

The diminution of the width of their coat collars, and the increase of the
convexity of their coat tails, an object which, by artificial assistance,
might easily be gained, are measures which we would earnestly press on all
who are ambitious of displaying an especial resemblance to Foreign Affairs.
We also advise them to have lofty, napless, steeple-crowned hats.

He who would pass for a shining specimen, in every sense of the word, of a
Foreign Affair, should wear varnished boots, which, if composed partly of
striped cloth, or what is much prettier, of silk, will display the ancles
to the better advantage.

With regard to colours in the matter of costume, the contemplation of
Foreign Affairs will probably induce a preference for black, as being
better suited to the complexion, though it will, at the same time, teach
that the hues of the rainbow are capable, under certain circumstances, of
furnishing useful suggestions.

It will have been perceived that the Foreign Affairs of which we have been
treating are the Affairs of one particular nation: beside these, however,
there are others; but since all of their characteristics may be acquired by
letting the clothes alone, never interfering with the hair, abstaining from
the practice of ablution, and smoking German pipes about the streets, they
are hardly worth dwelling upon. Those who have light and somewhat shaggy
locks will study such models with the best success.

Not only the appearance, but the manners also, of Foreign Affairs, may be
copied with signal benefit. Two of their accomplishments will be found
eminently serviceable--the art of looking black, and that of leering. These
physiognomical attainments, exhibited by turns, have a marvellous power of
attracting female eyes--those of them, at least, that have a tendency to
wander abroad. The best way of becoming master of these acquisitions is, to
peruse with attention the features of bravoes and brigands on the one hand,
and those of opera-dancers on the other. The progress of Foreign Affairs
should be attentively watched, as the manner of it is distinguished by a
peculiar grace. This, perhaps, we cannot better teach anyone to catch, than
by telling him to endeavour, in walking, to communicate, at each step, a
lateral motion to his coat tail. The gait of a popular actress, dressed as
a young officer, affords, next to that actually in question, the best
exemplification of our meaning. Habitual dancing before a looking-glass, by
begetting a kind of second nature, which will render the movements almost
instinctive, will be of great assistance in this particular.

In order to secure that general style and bearing for which Foreign Affairs
are so remarkable, the mind must be carefully divested of divers
incompatible qualities--such as self-respect, the sense of shame, the
reverential instinct, and that of conscience, as certain feelings are
termed. It must also be relieved of any inconvenient weight of knowledge
under which it may labour; though these directions are perhaps needless, as
those who have any inclination to form themselves after the pattern of
Foreign Affairs, are not very likely to have any such moral or intellectual
disqualifications to get rid of. However, it would only be necessary to
become conversant with the Affairs themselves, in order, if requisite, to
remove all difficulties of the sort. "There is a thing," reader, "which
thou hast often heard of, and it is known to many in our land by the name
of pitch;" we need not finish the quotation.

To defend the preceding observations from misconstruction, we will make, in
conclusion, one additional remark; Foreign _Affairs_ are one thing--Foreign
_Gentlemen_ another.

       *       *       *       *       *


[Illustration:  FOREIGN AFFAIRS by (a drawing of an ink bottle)]

       *       *       *       *       *


Some of our big mothers of the broad-sheet have expressed their surprise
that Lord John Russell should have penned so long an address to the
citizens of London, only the day before his wedding. For ourselves, we
think, it would have augured a far worse compliment to Lady John had he
written it the day after. These gentlemen very properly look upon marriage
as a most awful ceremony, and would, therefore, indirectly compliment the
nerve of a statesman who pens a political manifesto with the torch of Hymen
in his eyes, and the whole house odorous of wedding-cake. In the like
manner have we known the last signature of an unfortunate gentleman, about
to undergo a great public and private change, eulogized for the firmness
and clearness of its letters, with the perfect mastery of the supplementary
flourish. However, what is written is written; whether penned to the
rustling of bridesmaids' satins, or the surplice of the consolatory
ordinary--whether to the anticipated music of a marriage peal, or to the
more solemn accompaniment of the bell of St. Sepulchre's.

Ha! Lord John, had you only spoken out a little year ago--had you only told
her Majesty's Commons what you told the Livery of London--then, at this
moment, you had been no moribund minister--then had Sir Robert Peel been as
far from St. James's as he has ever been from Chatham. But so it is: the
Whig Ministry, like martyr Trappists, have died rather than open their
mouths. They would not hear the counsel of their friends, and they refused
to _speak out_ to their enemies. They retire from office with, at least,
this distinction--they are henceforth honorary members of the Asylum for
the Deaf and Dumb!

Again, the Whigs are victims to their inherent sense of politeness--to
their instinctive observance of courtesy towards the Tories. There has been
no bold defiance--no challenge to mortal combat for the cause of public
good; but when Whig has called out Tory, it has been in picked and holiday

  "As if a brother should a brother dare,
  To gentle exercise and proof of arms."

For a long time the people have expected to see "cracked crowns and bloody
noses," and at length, with true John Bull disgust, turned from the ring,
convinced that the Whigs, whatever play they might make, would never go in
and fight.

But have the Tories been correspondingly courteous? By no means; the
generosity of politeness has been wholly with the Whigs. They, like
frolicsome youths at a carnival, have pelted their antagonists with nothing
harder than sugar-plums--with egg-shells filled with rose-water; while the
Tories have acknowledged such holiday missiles with showers of brickbats,
and eggs _not_ filled with aromatic dew. What was the result? The Tories
increased in confidence and strength with every new assault; whilst the
battered Whigs, from their sheer pusillanimity, became noisome in the
nostrils of the country.

At length, the loaves and fishes being about to be carried off, the Whigs
speak out: like sulky Master Johnny, who, pouting all dinner-time, with his
finger in his mouth, suddenly finds his tongue when the apple-dumplings are
to be taken from the table. Then does he advance his plate, seize his ivory
knife and fork, put on a look of determined animation, and cry aloud for
plenty of paste, plenty of fruit, and plenty of sugar! And then _Mrs. Tory_
(it must be confessed a wicked old _Mother Cole_ in her time), with a face
not unlike the countenance of a certain venerable paramour at a baptismal
rite, declares upon her hopes of immortality that the child shall have
nothing of the sort, there being nothing so dangerous to the constitution
as plenty of flour, plenty of fruit, and plenty of sugar. Therefore, there
is a great uproar with Master Johnny: the House, to use a familiar phrase,
is turned out of the windows; the neighbourhood is roused; Master Johnny
rallies his friends about him, that is, all the other boys of _the court_,
and the fight begins. Johnny and his mates make a very good fight, but
certain heavy Buckinghamshire countrymen--fellows of fifty stone--are
brought to the assistance of that screaming beldame _Mother Tory_, and poor
Master Johnny has no other election than to listen to the shouts of triumph
that declare there never shall be plenty of flour, plenty of sugar, or, in
a word, plenty of pudding.

However, Lord Russell is not discouraged. No; he says "there _shall_ be
cakes and ale, and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth, too!" We only trust
that his Lordship's manifesto is not tinged by those feelings of hope (and
in the case of his lordship we may add, resignation) that animate most men
about to enter wedlock. We trust he does not confound his own anticipations
of happiness with the prospects of the country; for in allusion to the
probable policy of the Tories, he says--"Returned to office--they may adopt
our measures, and submit to the influence of reason." Reason from the
Stanleys--reason from the Goulburns--reason from the Aberdeens! When the
Marquis of Londonderry shall have discovered the longitude, and Colonel
Sibthorp have found out the philosopher's stone, we may then begin to
expect the greater miracle.

The Whigs, according to Lord Russell's letter, have really done so much
when out of power, and--as he insinuates, are again ready to do so much the
instant they are expelled the Treasury--that for the sake of the country,
it must be a matter of lamentation if ever they get in again.

       *       *       *       *       *


Punch, we regret to state, was taken into custody on Monday night at a late
hour, on a warrant, for the purpose of being bound over to keep the peace
towards Sir John Pollen, Bart. The circumstances giving rise to this affair
will be better explained by a perusal of the following correspondence,
which took place between ourselves and Sir John, on the occasion, a copy of
which we subjoin:--

_Wellington Street, July_ 30, 1841.

SIR,--I have this moment read in the _Morning Chronicle_, the
correspondence between you and Lord William Paget, wherein you are reported
to say, that your recent defeat at the Andover election was effected by
"tampering with some of the smaller voters, who would have voted for _Punch
or any other puppet_;" and that such expressions were not intended to be
_personally offensive_ to Lord William Paget! The members of her Majesty's
puppetry not permitting derogatory conclusions to be drawn at their
expense, I call upon you to state whether the above assertions are correct;
and if so, whether, in the former case, you intended to allude personally
to myself, or my friend Colonel Sibthorp; or, in the latter, to infer that
you considered Lord W. Paget in any way our superior.

I have the honour to be, Sir, your obedient servant,

Sir John Pollen, Bart.

_Redenham, July 30, 1841._

SIGNOR,--I have just received a note in which you complain of a speech made
by me at Andover. I have sent express for my Lord Wilkshire, and will then
endeavour to recollect what I did say.

I have the honour to be, your admirer,

To Signor Punch.

_White Hart._

SIGNOR,--My friend Lord Wilkshire has just arrived. It is his opinion that:
I did use the terms "Punch, or any other puppet;" but I intended them to
have been highly complimentary, as applied to Lord William Paget.

I have the honour to be, your increased admirer,

To Signor Punch.

_Wellington Street._

SIR,--I and the Colonel are perfectly satisfied. Yours ever,


_Wellington Street._

MY LORD,--It would have afforded me satisfaction to have consulted the
wishes of Sir John Pollen in regard to the publication of this
correspondence. The over-zeal of Sir John's friends have left me no choice
in the matter, I shall print.

Your obedient servant,

Earl of Wilkshire.

Thus ended this--


       *       *       *       *       *

HUMFERY CHEAT-'EM.--(_Vide_ Ainsworth's "Guy Fawkes.")

A city friend met us the other morning: "Hark 'ee," said he, "Alderman
Humfery has been selling shares of the Blackwall Railway, which were not in
his possession; and when the directors complained, and gave him notice that
they would bring his conduct before a full meeting, inviting him at the
same time to attend, and vindicate or explain his conduct as he best might,
he not only declined to do so, but hurried off to Dublin. Now, I want to
know this," and he took me by the button, "why was Alderman Humfery, when
he ran away to Dublin, like the boy who ripped up his goose which laid
golden eggs?"--We were fain to give it up.--"Because," said he, with a
cruel dig in the ribs, "because he _cut his lucky!_"

       *       *       *       *       *



The following interesting narrative of the sufferings of the youth Jones,
whose indefatigable pursuit of knowledge, under the most discouraging
circumstances, has been the cause of his banishment to a distant shore, was
lately picked up at sea, in a sealed bottle, by a homeward-bound East
Indiaman, and since placed in our hands by the captain of the vessel; who
complimented us by saying, he felt such confidence in PUNCH'S honour and
honesty! (these were his very words), that he unhesitatingly confided to
him the precious document, in order that it might be given to the world
without alteration or curtailment.

We hasten to realise the captain's flattering estimate of our character.

_At see, on board the ship Apollo._

_June 30._--So soon as the fust aggytation of my mind is woar off, I take
up my pen to put my scentiments on peaper, in hops that my friends as nose
the misfortin wich as oc-_curd_ to me, may think off me wen I'm far a
_whey_. Halass! sir, the wicktim of that crewel blewbeard, Lord Melbun, who
got affeard of my rising poplarity in the Palass, and as sent me to _see_
for my _peeping_, though, heaven nose, I was acktyated by the pewrest
motiffs in what I did. The reel fax of the case is, I'm a young man of an
ighly cultiwated mind and a very _ink_-wisitive disposition, wich naturally
led me to the use of the _pen_. I ad also bean in the abit of reading "Jak
Sheppard," and I may add, that I O all my eleygant tastes to the perowsal
of that faxinating book. O! wot a noble mind the author of these wollums
must have!--what a frootful inwention and fine feelings he displays!--what
a delicat weal he throws over the piccadillys of his ero, making petty
larceny lovely, and burglarly butiful.

However, I don't mean now to enter into a reglar crickitism of this
egxtrornary work, but merely to observe, when I read it fust I felt a thust
for literrerry fame spring up in my buzzem; and I thort I should to be an
orthor. Unfortinnet delusion!--that thort has proved my rooin. It was the
_bean_ of my life, and the destroyer of my _pease_. From that moment I
could think of nothink else; I neglekted my wittles and my master, and
wanderd about like a knight-errand-boy who had forgotten his message. Sleap
deserted my lowly pillar, and, like a wachful shepherd, I lay all night
awake amongst my _flocks_. I had got hold of a single idear--it was the
axle of my mind, and, like a wheelbarrow, my head was always turning upon
it. At last I resolved to rite, and I cast my i's about for a subject--they
fell on the Palass! Ear, as my friend Litton Bulwer ses, ear was a field
for genus to sore into;--ear was an area for fillophosy to dive into;--ear
was a truly magnificient and comprehensive desine for a great _nash_-ional
picture! I had got a splendid title, too--not for myself--I've a sole above
such trumperry--but for my book. Boox is like humane beings--a good title
goes a grate way with the crowd:--the one I ad chose for my _shed-oove_,
was "Pencillings in the Palass; or, a Small Voice from the Royal Larder,"
with commick illustriations by Fiz or Krokvill. Mr. Bentley wantid to be
engaged as monthly nuss for my expected projeny; and a nother gen'leman,
whose "name" shall be "never heard," offered to go _shears_ with me, if I'd
consent to _cut-uup_ the Cort ladies. "No," ses I, indignantly, "I leave
Cort scandle to my betters--I go on independent principals into the Palass,
and that's more than Lord Melbun, or Sir Robert Peal, or any one of the
insiders or outsiders ever could or ever can say of theirselves.

That's what I said _then_,--but now I think, what a cussed fool I was. All
my eye-flown bubbles were fated to be busted and melted, like the _wigs_,
"into thin _hair_."

_Nong port!_ We gets wiser as we gets      *       *       *

Genteel Reader,--I beg your parding. I'm better now. Bless me, how the ship
waggles! It's reelly hawful; the sailors only laff at it, but I suppose as
they're all _tars_ they don't mind being _pitched_ a little.

The capting tells me we are now reglarly at see, having just passt the
North 4 land; so, ackording to custom, I begin my journal, or, as
naughtical men call it--to keep my log.

_12 o'clock._--Wind.--All in my eye. Mate said we had our larburd tax
aboard--never herd of that tax on shore. Told me I should learn to box the
compass--tried, but couldn't do it--so boxt the cabbing boy insted. Capting
several times calld to a man who was steering--"_Port, port_;" but though
he always anserd, "Eye, eye, sir," he didn't bring him a drop. The black
cook fell into the hold on the topp of his hed. Everybody sed he was gone
to Davy Jones's locker; but he warn't, for he soon came to again, drank 1/2
a pint of rumm, and declared it was--


Saw a yung salor sitting on the top of one of the masts--thort of Dibdings
faymos see-song, and asked if he warn't

  "The sweet little cherub that sits up aloft?"

Man laff'd, and said it wor only Bill Junk clearing the pennant halliards.

_1 o'clock._--Thort formerly that every sailer wore his pigtale at the back
of his head, like Mr. Tippy Cook--find I labored under a groce
mistake--they all carry their pigtale in their backy-boxes. When I beheld
the sailors working and heaving, and found that I was also beginning to
heave-too, I cuddn't help repeting the varse of the old song--which fitted
my case egsactly:--

  "There's the capt'n he is our kimmander,
    There's the bos'n and all the ship's crew,
  There's the married men as well as the single,
    Ken-ows what we poor sailors goes through."

However, I made up my mind not to look inward on my own wose any longer, so
I put my head out of a hole in the side of the ship--and, my wiskers! how
she did whizz along. Saw the white cliffs of Halbion a long way off, wich
brought tiers in my i, thinking of those I had left behind, particular
Sally Martin the young gal I was paying my attentions to, who gave me a
_lock_ of her air when I was a leaving of the _key_. Oh! Lord Melbun, Lord
Melbun! how can you rest in youre 4-post bed at nite, nowing you have broke
the tize of affexion and divided 2 fond arts for hever! This mellancholly
reflexion threw me into a poeticle fitte, and though I was werry uneasy in
my _stommik_, and had nothing to rite on but my _chest_. I threw off as
follows in a few 2nds, and arterards sung it to the well-none hair of
"Willy Reilly:"--

  Oakum to me[3], ye sailors bold,
    Wot plows upon the sea;
  To you I mean for to unfold
    My mournful histo-ree.
  So pay attention to my song,
    And quick-el-ly shall appear,
  How innocently, all along,
    I vos in-weigle-ed here.

  One night, returnin home to bed,
    I walk'd through Pim-li-co,
  And, twigging of the Palass, sed,
    "I'm _Jones_ and _In-i-go_."
  But afore I could get out, my boys
    Pollise-man 20 A,
  He caught me by the corderoys,
    And lugged me right a-way.

  My cuss upon Lord Melbun, and
    On Jonny Russ-all-so,
  That forc'd me from my native land
    Across the vaves to go-o-oh.
  But all their spiteful arts is wain,
    My spirit down to keep;
  I hopes I'll soon git back again,
    To take another peep.

    [3] The nautical mode of writing--"Oh! come to me."--PRINTER'S

_2 o'clock._--Bell rung for all hands to come down to dinner. Thought I
never saw dirtier hands in my life. They call their dinner "a mess" on
broad ship, and a preshious mess it did look--no bread but hard biskit and
plenty of ship's _rolls_, besides biled pork and P-soop--both these
articles seemed rayther queer--felt my stommick growing quear too--got on
deck, and asked where we were--was told we were in the Straits of Dover. I
never was in such dreadful straits in my life--ship leaning very much on
one side, which made me feel like a man


_3 o'clock._--Weather getting rather worse than better. Mind very uneasy.
Capting says we shall have plenty of squalls to-night; and I heard him just
now tell the mate to look to the main shrouds, so I spose it's all dickey
with us, and that this log will be my sad epilog. The idear of being made
fish meat was so orrible to my sensitive mind, that I couldn't refrain from
weaping, which made the capting send me down stairs, to vent my sorros in
the cable _tiers_.

_5 o'clock._--I'm sure we shan't srwive this night, therefore I av
determined to put my heavy log into an M T rum-bottle, and throw it
overbord, in bops it may be pickd up by some pirson who will bare my sad
tail to my dear Sally. And now I conclewd with this short advice:--Let awl
yung men take warning by my crewel fate. Let them avide bad kumpany and
keep out of the Palass; and above all, let them mind their bissnesses on
dri land, and never cast their fortunes on any _main_, like their


       *       *       *       *       *




        O, Gemini-
  Representatives of the Tartan hero,
  Who wildly tear a passion into rags
  More ragged than the hags
  That round about the cauldron go!
  Murderers! who murder Shakspeare so,
  That 'stead of murdering sleep, ye do not do it;
  But, _vice versa_, send the audience to it.
          And, oh!--
          But no--
        Illustrious Mac-
        Beth, or -ready,
        And thou, small quack,
        Of plaudits greedy!
  Our pen, deserted by the tuneful Muses,
  To write on such a barren theme refuses.

       *       *       *       *       *

  The most splendid night of the season! Friday, the 20th of August.
  British Champagne and the British Constitution!--The Church, the
  State, and Real Turtle!

  The performances will commence with
          FISH OUT OF WATER,
    Sam Savory--Captain Rous, R.N.
            After which,
  Which will embrace the whole strength of THE STEWARDS.
  In the course of the Evening, the ENLIGHTENED
  (Those zealous admirers of _true British spirit_) will parade the
  room amid

  To be followed by a GRAND PANTOMIME, called
            OR, BRAVO ROUS!
  OLD GLORY (afterwards Pantaloon) SIR F. BURDETT,
  who has kindly offered his services on this occasion.
  HARRY HUMBUG (a true British Sailor, afterwards Harlequin), CAPT. ROUS.
  The whole to conclude with a grand _mélange_ of


  Stretchers to be at the doors at half-past 2, and policemen to take
  up with their heads towards Bow-street.

            VIVAT REGINA.

       *       *       *       *       *


The experiments of M. Delafontaine having again raised an outcry against
this noble science, from the apparent absence of any benefit likely to
arise from it, beyond converting human beings into pincushions and galvanic
dummies. We, who look deeper into things than the generality of the world,
hail it as an inestimable boon to mankind, and proceed at once to answer
the numerous enquirers as to the _cui bono_ of this novel soporific.

By a judicious application of the mesmeric fluid, the greatest domestic
comfort can be insured at the least possible trouble. The happiest Benedict
is too well aware that ladies will occasionally exercise their tongues in a
way not altogether compatible with marital ideas of quietude. A few passes
of the hand ("in the way of kindness for he who would," &c. _vide_ Tobin)
will now silence the most powerful oral battery; and Tacitus himself might,
with the aid of mesmerism, pitch his study in a milliner's work-room.
Hen-pecked husbands have now other means at their command, to secure quiet,
than their razors and their garters. We have experimentalised upon our
Judy, and find it answer to a miracle. Mrs. Johnson may shut up her
laboratory for American Soothing Syrup; mesmerism is the only panacea for
those morning and evening infantile ebullitions which affectionate mammas
always assign to the teeth, the wind, or a pain in the stomach, and never
to that possible cause, a pain in the temper. Mesmerism is "the real
blessing to mothers," and Elliotson the Mrs. Johnson of the day. We have
tried it upon our Punchininny, and find it superior to our old practice of
throwing him out of the window.

Lovers, to you it is a boon sent by Cupid. Mammas, who will keep in the
room when your bosoms are bursting with adoration--fathers, who will wake
on the morning of an elopement, when the last trunk and the parrot are
confided to you from the window--bailiffs, who will hunt you up and down
their bailiwick, even to the church-door, though an heiress is depending
upon your character for weekly payments--all are rendered powerless and
unobtrusive by this inexplicable palmistry. Candidates, save your money;
mesmerise your opponents instead of bribing them, and you may become a
patriot by a show of hands.

These are a few of its social advantages--its political uses are unbounded.
Why not mesmerise the Chinese? and, as for the Chartists, call out
Delafontaine instead of the magistrates--a few mesmeric passes would be an
easy and efficient substitute for the "Riot Act." Then the powers of
_clairvoyance_--the faculty of seeing with their eyes shut--that it gives
to the patient. Mrs. Ratsey, your royal charge might be soothed and
instructed at the same time, by substituting a sheet of PUNCH for the
purple and fine linen of her little Royal Highness's nautilus-shell.

Lord John Russell, the policy of your wily adversary would no longer be
concealed. Jealous husbands, do you not see a haven of security, for brick
walls may be seen through, and letters read in the pocket of your rival, by
this magnetic telescope? whilst studious young gentleman may place Homer
under their arms, and study Greek without looking at it.

[Illustration: MESMERISM.]

       *       *       *       *       *


The Marquis of Waterford and party visited Vauxhall Gardens on Monday. The
turnpike man on the bridge was much _struck_ by their easy manner of
dealing with their inferiors.

Alderman Magnay laid the first shell of an oyster grotto one night this
week in the Minories. There was a large party of boys, who, with the worthy
Alderman, repaired to a neighbouring fruit-stall, where the festivity of
the occasion was kept up for several minutes.

The New Cut was, as usual, a scene of much animation on Saturday last, and
there was rather a more brilliant display than customary of new and elegant
baked-potato stands. The well-known turn-out, with five lanterns and four
apertures for the steam, was the general admiration of the host of
pedestrians who throng the Cut between the hours of eight and twelve on

       *       *       *       *       *


SIR R. PEEL, in the celebrated medicinal metaphor with which he lately
favoured his constituents at Tamworth, concludes by stating, "that he
really believes he does more than any political physician ever did by
referring to the prescriptions which he offered in 1835 and 1840, and by
saying that he sees no reason to alter them." This is, to carry out the
physical figure, only another version of "_the mixture as before_." We are
afraid there are no hopes of the patient.

"Why are the Whigs like the toes of a dancing-master?"--"Because they
_must_ be turned out."

"Why are Colonel Sibthorp and Mr. Peter Borthwick like the covering of the
dancing-master's toes?"--"Because they are a _pair of pumps_."

"Why are the Whigs and Tories like the scarlet fever and the
measles?"--"Because there's no telling which is the worst."

       *       *       *       *       *


My uncle Septimus Snagglegrable is no more! Excellent old man! no one knew
his worthiness whilst he was of the living, for every one called him a

It is reserved for me to do justice to his memory, and one short sentence
will be sufficient for the purpose--he has left me five thousand pounds! I
have determined that his benevolence shall not want an imitator, and I have
resolved, at a great personal sacrifice, to benefit that portion of my
fellow creatures who are denominated ugly. I am particularly so. My
complexion is a bright snuff-colour; my eyes are grey, and unprotected by
the usual verandahs of eye-lashes; my nose is _retroussé_, and if it has a
bridge, it must be of the suspension order, for it is decidedly concave. I
wish Rennie would turn his attention to the state of numerous noses in the
metropolis. I am sure a lucrative company might he established for the
purpose of erecting bridges to noses that, like my own, have been
unprovided by nature. I should be happy to become a director. _Revenons
nous_--my mouth is decidedly large, and my teeth singularly irregular. My
father was violently opposed to Dr. Jenner's "repeal of the small-pox,"[4]
and would not have me vaccinated; the consequence of which has been that my
chin is full of little dells, thickly studded with dark and stunted
bristles. I have bunions and legs that (as "the right line of beauty's a
curve") are the perfection of symmetry. My poor mother used to lament what
she, in the plenitude of her ignorance, was pleased to denominate my
disadvantages. She knew not the power of genius. To me these--well, I'll
call them _defects_--have been the source of great profit. For years I have
walked about the great metropolis without any known or even conjectural
means of subsistence; my coat has always been without a patch--my linen
without spot!

    [4] Baylis.

Ugly brothers, I am about to impart to you the secret of my existence! I
have lived by the fine arts--yes, by sitting as

  A model for door-knockers and cherubim for tomb-stones.

The latter may perhaps surprise you, but the contour of my countenance is
decidedly infantile--for when had a babby a bridge?--and the addition of a
penny trumpet completes the full-blown expression of the light-headed
things known to stone-masons as cherubim.

But it is to the art of knocker-designing that I flatter myself I have been
of most service. By the elevation of my chin, and the assistance of a long
wig, I can present an excellent resemblance of a lion, with this great
advantage over the real animal--I can vary the expression according to

  "As mild as milk, or raging as the storm."

So that nervous single ladies need not be terrified out of their senses
every time they knock at their door, by the grim personification of a Nero
at feeding time; or a tender-hearted poor-law guardian be pestered during
dinner by invitations afforded to the starving poor by the benevolent
expression of his knocker.

Ugly ones! I have now imparted to you my secret.

       *       *       *       *       *


  Oh, Mr. Punch! what glorious times
  Are these, for humbly gifted mimes;
    When, spite of each detracter,
  Paternal name and filial love,
  Assisted by "the powers above,"
    Have made C----s K----n an actor!

  "'Tis true," his generous patrons say,
  "Of genius he ne'er had a ray;
    Yet, all his faults to smother,
  The youth inherits, from his sire,
  A name which all the world admire,
    And dearly loves his mother!"

  Stripp'd of his adventitious aid,
  He ne'er ten pounds a week had made;
    Yet every Thespian brother
  Is now kept down, or put to flight,
  While _he_ gets fifty pounds a night,
    Because--he loves his mother!

  Though I'm, in heart and soul, a friend
  To genuine talent, Heaven forefend
    That I should raise a pother,
  Because the philanthropic folks
  Wink and applaud a pious hoax,
    For one who--loves his mother!

  No! Heaven prolong his parent's life
  And grant that no untimely strife
    May wean them from each other!
  For soon he'd find the golden fleece
  Slip from his grasp, should he e'er cease
    To _keep_ and--love his mother!

       *       *       *       *       *


Why is a chesnut horse, going at a rapid pace up an inclined plane, like an
individual in white trousers presenting a young lady in book muslin with an
infantine specimen of the canine species?--Because he is giving _a gallop
up_ (a girl a pup).

       *       *       *       *       *



The distresses of actors distress nobody but themselves. A tale of woe told
off the stage by a broad comedian, begets little sympathy; and if he is in
the "heavy line," people say he is used to it, and is only acting--playing
off upon you a melancholy joke, that he may judge how it will _tell_ at
night. Thus, when misfortune takes a benefit, charity seldom takes tickets;
for she is always sceptical about the so-called miseries of the most giddy,
volatile, jolly, careless, uncomplaining (where managers and bad parts are
not concerned) vainest, and apparently, happiest possible members of the
community, who are so completely associated with fiction, that they are
hardly believed when telling the truth. _Par exemple_--nothing can be more
true than that Astley's Theatre was burnt down the other day; that the
whole of that large establishment were suddenly thrown out of employ; that
their wardrobes were burnt to rags, their properties reduced to a cinder,
and their means of subsistence roasted in a too rapid fire. True also is
it, that to keep the wolf from their own doors, those of the Olympic have
been opened, where the really dismounted cavalry of Astley's are continuing
their campaign, having appealed to the public to support them. Judging from
the night we were present, that support has been extended with a degree of
lukewarmness which is exactly proportionate to the effect produced by the
appeals of actors when misfortune overtakes them.

But, besides public sympathy, they put forth other claims for support. The
amusements they offer are of extraordinary merit. The acting of Mr. H.
Widdicomb, of Miss Daly, and Mr. Sidney Forster, was, in the piece we
saw--"The Old House at Home"--full of nature and quiet touches of feeling
scarcely to be met with on any other stage. Still these are qualifications
the "general" do not always appreciate; though they often draw tears, they
seldom draw money. Very well, to meet that deficiency, other and more
popular actors have come forward to offer their aid. Mr. T.P. Cooke has
already done his part, as he always does it, nobly. The same may be said of
Mr. Hammond. When we were present, Mrs. H.L. Grattan and Mr. Balls appeared
in the "Lady of Munster." Mr. Sloan, a popular Irish comedian from the
provinces, has lent a helping hand, by coming out in a new drama. Mr.
Keeley is also announced.

The pieces we saw were well got up and carefully acted; so that the patrons
of the drama need not dread that, in this instance, the Astleyan-Olympic
actors believe that "charity covers a multitude of sins." They don't care
who sees their faults--the more the better.

       *       *       *       *       *


When a certain class of persons, whose antipathy to gratis sea-voyages is
by no means remarkable, are overtaken by the police and misfortune; when
the last legal quibble has been raised upon their case and failed; when,
indeed, to use their own elegant phraseology, they are "regularly stumped
and done up;" then--and, to do them justice, not till then--they resort to
confession, and to turning king's evidence against their accomplices.

This seems to be exactly the case with the drama, which is evidently in the
last stage of decline; the consumption of new subjects having exhausted the
supply. The French has been "taken from" till it has nothing more to give;
the Newgate Calendar no longer affords materials; for an entire dramatic
edition of it might be collected (a valuable hint this for the Syncretic
Society, that desperate association for producing un-actable dramas)--the
very air is exhausted in a theatrical sense; for "life in the clouds" has
been long voted "law;" whilst the play-writing craft have already robbed
the regions below of every spark of poetic fire; devils are decidedly out
of date. In short, and not to mince the matter, as hyenas are said to stave
off starvation by eating their own haunches, so the drama _must_ be on its
last legs, when actors turn king's evidence, and exhibit to the public how
they flirt and quarrel, and eat oysters and drink porter, and scandalise
and make fun--how, in fact, they disport themselves "Behind the Scenes."

A visit to the English Opera will gratify those of the uninitiated, who are
anxious to get acquainted with the manners and customs of the ladies and
gentlemen of the _corps dramatique_ "at the wing." Otherwise than as a sign
of dramatic destitution, the piece called "Behind the Scenes" is highly
amusing. Mr. Wild's acting displays that happy medium between jocularity
and earnest, which is the perfection of burlesque. Mrs. Selby plays the
"leading lady" without the smallest effort, and invites the first tragedian
to her treat of oysters and beer with considerable _empressement_, though
supposed to be labouring at the time _under_ the stroke of the headsman's
axe. Lastly, it would be an act of injustice to Mr. Selby to pass his
_Spooney Negus_ over in silence. PUNCH has too brotherly an affection for
his fellow-actors, to hide their faults; in the hope that, by shewing them
_veluti in speculum_, they may be amended. In all kindness, therefore, he
entreats Mr. Selby, if he be not bent upon hastening his own ruin, if he
have any regard for the feelings of unoffending audiences, who always
witness the degradation of human nature with pain--he implores him to
provide a substitute for _Negus_. Every actor knows the difference between
portraying imbecility and _being_ silly himself--between puerility, as
characteristic of a part _in posse_, and as being a trait of the performer
_in esse_. To this rule Mr. Selby, in this part, is a melancholy exception;
for he seems utterly ignorant of such a distinction, broad as it is--he is
silly himself, instead of causing silliness in _Spooney_. This is the more
to be regretted, as whoever witnessed, with us, the first piece, saw in Mr.
Selby a respectable representative of an old dandy in "Barnaby Rudge."
Moreover, the same gentleman is, we understand, the adapter of the drama
from Boz's tale. That too proves him to be a clever contriver of
situations, and an ingenious adept with the pen and scissors.

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 1, August 7, 1841" ***

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