Chapter 3

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 spider.

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.

* * * * *

PUNCH'S PENCILLINGS--No. IV.

* * * * *

THE MINTO-HOUSE MANIFESTO

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 phrase--

"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 AND SIR JOHN POLLEN.

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, PUNCH.

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, JOHN POLLEN.

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, JOHN POLLEN.

To Signor Punch.

_Wellington Street._

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

PUNCH

_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, PUNCH.

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 BOY JONES'S LOG.

PICKED UP AT SEA.

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.