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VOL. 62.
JANUARY 6TH, 1872.

[Illustration: PUNCH



[Illustration: PREFACE]

"GENTLEMEN ARBITRATORS, I salute you in the concrete," said MR. PUNCH,
walking up to the table of the Hall of Congress at Geneva. "I also
salute you specially. COUNT SCLOPIS, _una voce poco fà_; M. STAEMPFLI,
my Merry Swiss Boy, _point d'argent, point de Suisse_; BARON ITAJUBA, I
hope your _sangre azul_ is cool this hot weather."


"And really, my dear SIR ALEXANDER," was MR. PUNCH's lightning-like
repartee. "How are you? and DAVIS, my BANCROFT, how are you? Have you
seen MRS. BANCROFT in _Caste_? Capital, isn't she? And now to business,
and after that we'll go for a row on the Lake, my Allobroges. Know they
settled here, DAVIS?"

"I know several things," said MR. DAVIS, "and one is that you have no
business in this chamber."

"_Rem acu tetigisti_, my Occidental. My visit is strictly on pleasure.
And I reckon to have the pleasure of sticking these here Negotiations in
a greased groove before I quit."

"Porter!" exclaimed the COUNT SCLOPIS, angrily.

"Not a drop, I thank you," said MR. PUNCH, smiling. "We should not get
it good here. A bottle of Seltzer, if you please, with a slight dash of
the liquid named after yonder lake, but unsweetened."

His exquisite good-temper - he associates with GRANVILLE and
DISRAELI - was too much for the dignitaries. They all shook hands with
him, said he was welcome, and begged that he would go away until

"Not a bit of it, my Beamish Boys," said MR. PUNCH. "I am going to earn
that dinner."

"But, dear MR. PUNCH," pleaded MR. DAVIS, "we can't admit another
British Representative, especially so omnipotent a one as yourself."

"You are polite, and I'm cosmopolite, my dear DAVIS. _Non ubi nascor,
sed ubi pascor_, and being asked to an international repast I shall
behave internationally."

"You will have to let him speak," laughed BARON ITAJUBA.

"You open your mouth to drop Brazilian diamonds, my Baron."

"_He'd better remain, for I don't think he'll go_," gaily carolled the
Chief Justice, with a reminiscence of a burlesque written at a time when
burlesques were comic.

"_Take your brief, and belabour away_," sang the Merry Swiss Boy.

"Come, MR. PUNCH," said the Count, "you and I have a common Italian
ancestry. Do us credit."

"_Con rispetto parlando_, Count, you ought not to doubt that I shall.
Arbitrators! Have you all read RABELAIS?"

"There's a question!" shouted Everybody, indignantly. "Have five great
nations sent clowns to represent them?"

"I will soon see about that," said MR. PUNCH. "When the good PANTAGRUEL
was asked to decide a most tangled, knotty, and vast law-suit, over
which a hundred lawyers had wrangled and fattened for years, what was
his first order? Nay, answer me not in words, but let me take my cooling
draught, and see whether you know RABELAIS."

As with one impulse all sprang up, delight in each face. Secretaries and
porters were summoned, and every scrap of paper, from the smallest Note
to the most gigantic Case was removed into the court-yard. In five
minutes all the painted glass in the windows was richly illuminated, and
the flames roared like Vesuvius.

"In these circumstances," said MR. PUNCH, "and as thinking of the
'frozen Caucasus' will not enable one to bear roasting, M. the Count,
you might order me some ice."

"Icebergs to MR. PUNCH till further notice," said the magnificent
Italian, in a style worthy of COSMO himself.

"You _have_ studied RABELAIS," said MR. PUNCH, when the fire had
subsided, "and I am sure that you will continue to be guided by his
wisdom. Do you accept my sentence, in this Anglo-American business, as
final. No 'understandings,' mind. Swear it, with good mouth-filling

They all sent out fervent voices, but MR. DAVIS (who has had the
advantage of knowing MR. GREELEY) discharged a kuss so terrific that it
tore all the other sounds to tatters.

"Hear, and record the oath, immoral Gods!" exclaimed MR. PUNCH, in a
manner like that of JOHN KEMBLE, only superior in impressiveness. "And
now I shall give you a judgment like that of the good PANTAGRUEL.

Then said PANTAGRUEL-PUNCH, "and the pauses amid his speech were more
awful than the sound:"

"=Not= having read one word of the cackle just combusted, and knowing
and caring nothing about the matter in question, I hereby give sentence
that England shall pay to America, on the first of April last, nineteen
thousand bottles of hay with a needle in each. Shall, on the very first
Sunday in the middle of the week, further pay to America eleven millions
of pigs in pokes; and finally, and without fail, Shall, in the next
Greek Kalends, remit to Washington two billions of bottles of smoke, and
one thousand casks of the best pickled Australian moonshine, deodorised
and aërated.

"=But= seeing that America, in her turn, has reparation to make, I
hereby give sentence that she shall send to England, on the day of the
election of the first Coloured President, twelve thousand barrels of the
best pearl-oysters, the pearls to be set with emeralds and rubies.
Shall, on the day of celebration of the utter and entire extinction of
Bunkum, further pay to England eighty thousand barrels of Columbian
Hail, and as many Birds o' Freedom, potted with truffles; and lastly,
Shall, on the recognition of the Independence of Mormonism, remit to
London a hundred boxes of the letters of which the United States have
robbed the Queen's English; a thousand of the ropes which ought to have
been used in accelerating the quietude of Fenianism, and finally, and
without fail, shall pay 30 per cent. on the profits of 'annexed' English

"=And= this I give for final judgment and decree indissoluble."

Everybody remained wrapt, in speechless admiration at the ineffable
But what a shout went up to the Empyrean when he gently added: -

"To enable you to interpret this sentence aright, I present you with my

"=Sixty-Second Volume.="


VOL. 62]


WE open our New Volume with a record that will become historical. No
more acceptable Christmas gift could have been bestowed upon a loyal and
affectionate people than that which QUEEN VICTORIA has been pleased to
present. It is the simple, warm, graceful expression of a Mother's "deep
sense of the touching sympathy of the whole Nation on the occasion of
the alarming illness of her dear son, the PRINCE OF WALES." Thus writes
our Sovereign, dating, happily, from Windsor Castle: -

"The universal feeling shown by her people during those painful,
terrible days, and the sympathy evinced by them with herself and
her beloved daughter, the PRINCESS OF WALES, as well as the
general joy at the improvement in the PRINCE OF WALES'S state,
have made a deep and lasting impression on her heart which can
never be effaced. It was, indeed, nothing new to her, for the
QUEEN had met with the same sympathy when just ten years ago a
similar illness removed from her side the mainstay of her life,
the best, wisest, and kindest of husbands.

"The QUEEN wishes to express at the same time, on the part of
the PRINCESS OF WALES, her feelings of heartfelt gratitude, for
she has been as deeply touched as the QUEEN by the great and
universal manifestation of loyalty and sympathy.

"The QUEEN cannot conclude without expressing her hope that her
faithful subjects will continue their prayers to God for the
complete recovery of her dear son to health and strength."

"What can he do that cometh after the King?" is the language of the
Book. He who cometh after the QUEEN will vainly seek to write worthy
comment on these words. But comment will be supplied by all the hearts
that are rejoicing in the happiness of a Mother and of a Wife, and in
the deliverance of a Nation from a great sorrow.

* * * * *

The Festive Bored.

IN olden time the boar's head was a common Christmas adjunct to the
board. The custom, it appears, has not entirely yet died out. If one
believes one's eyes and ears, one can hardly ever join a family
Christmas party, without finding at least one, if not more than one,
bore's head there.

* * * * *


BENEATH the fading mistletoe in Time's wide-echoing Hall, -
The Yule-log's light still brisk and bright, on storied roof and wall -
The Spirits of the Nations, some strange, some kith and kin,
Are met to flout the Old Year out and _fête_ the New Year in.

With war-stains dim on robe and limb, fresh scars on cheek and brow,
France strives to look as though no pains could crush, no losses bow:
But her glance is quick and restless, and her hands are never still,
As one that, fevered inly, masks but masters not her ill.

As if in mock of Christmas wreaths, - their "peace, good-will to men" -
What fierce hate in her eyes whene'er proud Prussia meets their ken!
Prussia that, stern and stately, her great sword, laurel-wreathed,
Bears wary, so, 'tis hard to know if bare the blade, or sheathed.

So light and lithe that stalwart frame in movement or at rest,
You scarce would deem you caught the gleam of steel below her breast;
Beneath the wide imperial robe, that, fire-new, sweeps the ground,
With what now seems a diadem, and now a helmet, crowned.

But mark yon maid, of loveliness more radiant and more rare
Than all the showers of gems and flowers that star her night of hair;
For strength and grace to fit that face, what music but the tongue
Wherein stern DANTE chaunted, and silvery PETRARCH sung?

Queen among Queens! But never Queen full-robed and crowned till now,
The double diadem of Rome on her exultant brow!
Who notes the dust, who recks the rust, that dulls or dims its sheen,
Or asks how she came by it, or through what mire it has been?

From sleep or strife new roused to life that lights her antique face,
No monkish train nor slavish chain to cramp her strength and grace,
What wonder if she hardly know in soberness to still
The throbbing of late-loosened blood, the stir of waking will?

Others are there, though notable, less notable than these:
See Russia, blue-eyed giantess, still rude and ill at ease:
But who can tell what undrawn wells of power and strength are there,
Under the brow that looms so broad below her fell of hair?

And Austria, motley madam, 'twixt Vienna _demi-monde_,
Tyrolian _mädchen_, Magyar _brune_, and rough Sclavonian _blonde_:
Of look more gracious than her mood, more potent than her power,
Trying all arts, and changing trick and toilet with the hour.

And Spain, still proud as when she walked New World and Old a Queen,
Beneath her soiled and frayed brocades the rags plain to be seen,
Stately of speech, but beggarly of all but sounding phrase,
Slattern at home and shrew abroad, in worse as better days.

With sidelong and suspicious looks on Russia, Austria cast,
Which scarce her yashmak serves to hide, see Turkey gliding past.
A harem-beauty out of place 'twixt angers and alarms
At the hot looks of would-be Lords, that lust to own her charms.

Casting about for shelter she draws where, hand in hand,
Fair England and Columbia, proud child, proud mother, stand:
Time was upon each other they had turned less friendly eyes,
But of late both have grown wiser than let angry passions rise.

To the side of stout BRITANNIA I see scared Turkey creep,
Though BRITANNIA lifts no finger her foes at bay to keep:
But, for all her quiet bearing, there is something in her air
That brings to mind the good old saw, "Of sleeping dogs beware!"

Twelve struck - and I saw grey Old Time his wassail-bowl uprear,
As he called on all the Nations to drink in the New Year;
But first to drink the Old Year out, that to his end has come,
With small cause to regret him, as he passes on to doom.

And looking on those Nations, scarce a single face I saw
But over it lay such a cloud as doubt and fear might draw:
As if all wished the Old Year gone, while yet all doubted sore
If their welcome to the New Year should be hopefuller, therefor.

Some, thinking of disasters past, worse sorrows seemed to see,
In the near or farther future, up seething gloomily:
Some thinking of advantage won, seemed scarce to trust their hold
On that advantage, lest their prize turn dust, like fairy gold.

Only methought that Britain and Columbia, 'mid their peers,
Showed eyes more hopeful, calmer brows, and lips less pale with fears:
As having clearer view than most where surest faith should lie -
To put their trust in Providence, and keep their powder dry.

As being bent to fight the fight of common sense and truth:
Nor yield the faith therein to fear, the rights thereof to ruth:
Not give knaves, fools, or fanatics, the driving seat and reins:
Worthy his hire to own each man who works, with hand or brains.

To recognise the Heavenly rule that various lots assigns,
But ranges high and low alike 'neath Duty's even lines:
To do to others as we would that they to us should do,
To prize the blessings that we have, and others help thereto.

While Britain to this faith is firm, and puts this faith in deed,
Little to her how plenteous or how poor the years succeed.
She holds a hope good fortune reared not up, ill casts not down;
Trusting the Power whose hand alike is o'er Red-Cap and Crown.

* * * * *

[Illustration: UTILE CUM DULCE.]



* * * * *


OF old, around the whitening embers,
One, here and there, as yet remembers
The tales of Ghosts, at Christmas season,
Which once were wont to stagger Reason.

Those tales are told no more at Christmas,
Whose Ghosts are laid beyond the Isthmus
Of Suez, all beneath the billows
Of the Red Sea, on sandy pillows.

The Ghosts with eyes of flame and saucer
Are now as obsolete as CHAUCER;
No Ghosts now rattle chains, nor blue light
Emit, but "Spirit Lights" - a new light.

White-sheeted Ghosts have grown mere fables.
Instead of groaning, Ghosts rap tables:
With smells of sulphur ne'er assail us;
With curious perfumes oft regale us.

They "mediums" raise by "levitation,"
And subject them to elongation,
And in and out of windows float them,
Two stories high, lords vow, we quote them.

Fruit, flowers, ice, other forms of matter,
On tables, in the dark, Ghosts scatter;
Live lobsters, wriggling eels, and so forth:
Thus their "so potent art" they show forth.

There is a lady, MRS. GUPPY,
Mark, shallow scientific puppy,
The heaviest she in London, marry,
Her, Spirits three miles long did carry.

Upon a table down they set her,
Within closed doors. What! you know better?
And we're all dupes or self-deceivers?
Yah, Sadducees and unbelievers!

Some Ghosts, do, mortal hands compelling,
Write letters in phonetic spelling.
Some others, on accordions, cunning
In music, _Home, Sweet Home_, play, punning.

The grisly Ghosts of old have vanished;
The ancient Bogies all are banished.
How much more credible and pleasant
Than the old Spirits are the present!

* * * * *

Memorandum for Lords of the Manor.

A GAME which, when played on Commons, becomes illegal, is the Game of

* * * * *



A PRETTY dodge that is of the doctors and sawbones which have signed
that there declaration respectin' Halcohol has as bin publish'd in the
Papers. Wot I refers to moor partickler is their sayin that "Alcohol, in
whatever form, should be prescribed with as much care as any powerful
drug." Take this here along with their likewise sayin as they thinks the
sale of liquors ought to be restricted by "wise legislation." Yah!
What's the legislation as them medical gentlemen would call wise? I
won't say, I should like to know, cos why I do know, and which therefore
please alow me for to state, for to put a inliten'd Brittish Public on
their gard agin a Doo. A liquor law for to shut up all the publichouses,
and confine the sale of liquors - Halcohol in wotsomedever form, mind
yer - to the 'pothecaries, chemists, and druggists, to be sold hunder
conditions, like assnic or strikenine, or only wen horder'd by a
fisitian's perscription. That's their objeck. That's wot they're arter.
Anybody may see with arf an i they're all leged together to get the ole
of the licker trade away from the legitimit Licens'd Wittlers into their
own ands.

Now, Sir, just fancy under that sistim, if so be ever it passes, witch
Evin forbid, what a halteration we should see direckly in doctors'
shops. In coarse they'd ave to be a good deal inlarged to make room for
the Bar and Beer-engine. Then, my i, what a variety of rum labels there
would be on the big bottles, and the reseavers, and resevoys witch praps
would do dooty amongst the fizzic for caskes and barrels. A young doctor
chap, as uses my ouse, and promises to be a horniment to his perfession,
rote me down a few names of liquors; he says, in Doctors' lattin, along
with Pil: Colocynth Comp:, and Mist: Camph:, and sitch as we shall then
see - Cerevis: Fort: XXX Burton:; Barel: Perk: etSoc: Integr:; Aq: Vitæ
Gallic:; Sp: Junip: Batavorum:; Vin: Rubr:; Vin Alb: Hispan:; Sp:
Sacchari Jamaicens: Opt:; Vetus Thomas:; Ros Montan:; &c.; all witch you
and your honour'd readers, bein scollards, will hunderstand. Yes; and
you'll have medickle men perscribin wine, beer, and sperrits in
quantities of Oj., and [ounce symbol]j. or [ounce symbol]ij., and
[dram symbol]ifs., and [minims symbol]iij.; and patients will be
payin extry fees to ave the same perscribed for 'em - dram drinkin in
drams order'd medisinally.

Wich, afore that state of things is brought to pass, with defence not
defiance for our motter, wot I say is, let's nale our cullers to the
mast, No Surrender, and take to supplyin our customers with the werry
best rubub, senna, and prerogative drugs, and likewise pilicotia, bark,
prussic hacid and pizon of hevery description, as well as Halcohol in
watever form, wich they pertends is so pernishus.

The Doctors' liquor shops, I dare say, will shut up on Sundays - but then
no doubt but wot a short Notis outside will hinform you that "Medicine
may be obtained by ringing the bell," the medsin including anything on
draught you may choose to name, not exceptin punch, which cures the
gout, the collect, and the tizzic - And it is allowed to be the werry
best of fizzic. So no more at present from your obegent umbel Servant,


* * * * *

[Illustration: TOILETTE]


* * * * *


HERE is a fine specimen of Army Reform. We cite it from that Military
authority, the _Civilian_: -

"The expense of providing and maintaining window blinds for
officers' quarters is not chargeable against the public. Blinds
now fixed, which have been supplied free of charge, may remain,
provided they be maintained at the occupants' expense. Any
occupant not wishing to retain the blinds at his own cost, will
make a notification to this effect to the Controller of the
district, in order that they may be removed and taken into

Officers' better halves are hardly likely to approve of this
retrenchment in officers' quarters. Faded furniture and carpets will
probably not find much favour in their eyes, nor will those eyes shine
any brighter for being dazzled, as they will be, when the sunbeams
stream in blindingly through the blindless windows. In rooms that face
due South, a parasol will be a useful adjunct to a breakfast table, and
we may even hear of officers with weak eyes being attacked by sharp
ophthalmia, and, all owing to their blindless quarters, becoming
helpless inmates of the Blind Asylum.

* * * * *

A Minor Cannon.

THE new 35-ton gun, or 700-pounder, is called The Woolwich
Infant. Sweet Innocent! Let us hope that affairs may allow it
long to remain such. Is the Woolwich Infant supposed to be a boy
or a girl? If a boy, it must be admitted that there was never yet
before such a Son of a Gun.

* * * * *


A NEW PLAN. - _To Everyone whom it may Concern._

[Illustration: York, you'r wanted! T]IS a gratification to _Mr. Punch_,
to be able to announce that he has entered into an arrangement with
descendants of the celebrated _Masters Sandford and Merton_, who, with
their admirable preceptor, the grandson of the illustrious _Mr. Barlow_,
will, during the present Christmas Holidays, visit most of the
Metropolitan amusements.

One morning, as they were sitting, after breakfast, in their lodgings in
the Strand, TOMMY said to MR. BARLOW, "May I ask you a question, Sir?"

MR. BARLOW considered for a few moments, and then granted the desired

_Tommy._ What, Sir, is a Pantomime?

_Mr. Barlow_ (_smiling_). Perhaps HARRY can tell you.

_Harry._ Willingly, MASTER TOMMY.

_Tommy._ I should like very much to hear.

_Harry._ You must know, then, MASTER TOMMY, that in London there are a
great many buildings called Theatres, or The_ay_ters, to which some
people go, and, in cases where the free list is entirely suspended, and
the absurd system of orders is abolished, actually pay money in the
expectation of being amused by the performers. Indeed, at
Christmas-time, when nearly every sort of entertainment is open to the
public, it is a person's own fault if he is not constantly amused.

_Tommy._ But pray, HARRY, have you no more particulars to tell me about
these Pantomimes?

_Harry._ You can judge for yourself, MASTER TOMMY.

TOMMY was so affected with this rebuke, that he only restrained his
tears by a strong physical exertion, which resulted in his giving HARRY
a kick on the shins underneath the table. For this, being a boy of
generous disposition, he had the good-breeding and courtesy to
apologise, in time to avert the severe damage which his head would have
received at the hands of his friend HARRY; and, in order to propitiate
the justly-aroused anger of MR. BARLOW, MASTER TOMMY offered to treat
HARRY SANDFORD and their worthy preceptor to the play that very night; a
proposal which, after some show of reluctance, both MR. BARLOW and HARRY
SANDFORD cordially accepted.

* * * * *

At DRURY LANE. - On their arrival in the lobby of the Dress Circle, a
kindly-spoken gentleman insisted upon relieving the party of their
coats, and gave them a programme of the performance, for which they
returned him their most sincere thanks; MR. BARLOW, moreover, promised
him a gratuity on his leaving the theatre. This promise was accompanied
by a significant look at HARRY, who fully appreciated his worthy
preceptor's conduct. As to TOMMY, he was too full of wonder and

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Online LibraryVariousPunch, or the London Charivari, Volume 62, January 6, 1872 → online text (page 1 of 3)