Chapter 3

Philosophers and anatomists have quarrelled for centuries as to the residence of the soul. Some have vowed that it lived here--some there; some that, like a gentleman with several writs in pursuit of him, it continually changed its lodgings; whilst others have lustily sworn that the soul was a vagrant, with no claim to any place of settlement whatever. Nevertheless, a vulgar notion has obtained that the soul dwelt on a little knob of the brain; and that there, like a vainglorious bantam-cock on a dunghill, it now claps its wings and crows all sorts of triumph--and now, silent and scratching, it thinks of nought but wheat and barley. The first step to knowledge is to confess to a late ignorance. We avow, then, our late benighted condition. We were of the number of sciolists who lodged the soul in the head of man: we are now convinced that the true dwelling place of the soul is in the head's antipodes. Let SOLOMON himself return to the earth, and hold forth at a political meeting; SOLOMON himself would be hooted, laughed at, voted an ass, a nincompoop, if SOLOMON spoke from the platform with a hole in his breeches!

PLATO doubtless thought that he had imagined a magnificent theory, when he averred that every man had within him a spark of the divine flame. But, silly PLATO! he never considered how easily this spark might be blown out. At this moment, how many Englishmen are walking about the land utterly extinguished! Had men been made on the principle of the safety-lamp, they might have defied the foul breath of the world's opinion--but, alas! what a tender, thin-skinned, shivering thing is man! His covering--the livery of original sin, bought with the pilfered apples--is worn into a hole, and Opinion, that sour-breathed hag, claps her blue lips to the broken web, gives a puff, and--out goes man's immortal spark! From this moment the creature is but a carcase: he can eat and drink (when lucky enough to be able to try the experiment), talk, walk, and no more; yes, we forgot--he can work; he still keeps precedence of the ape in the scale of creation--for he can work for those who, thickly clothed, and buttoned to the throat, have no rent in their purple, no stitch dropped in their superfine, to expose their precious souls to an annihilating gust, and who therefore keep their immortal sparks like tapers in burglars' dark-lanthorns, whereby to rob and spoil with greater certainty!

Gentle reader, think you this a fantastic chapter on holes? If so, then of a surety you do not read those instructive annals of your country penned by many a TACITUS of the daily press--by many a profound historian who unites to the lighter graces of stenography the enduring loveliness of philosophy.

Some days since a meeting was held in the parish of Saint Pancras of the "Young Men's Anti-Monopoly Association." The place of gathering, says the reporter, was "a ruined _penny_ theatre!" It is evident in the brain of the writer that the small price at which the theatre was ruined made its infamy: to be blighted for a penny was the shame. Drury Lane and Covent Garden have been ruined over and over again--but then their ruin, like PHRYNE'S, has ever been at a large price of admission; hence, like court harlots, their ruin has been dignified by high remuneration. What, however, could be expected from a theatre that, with inconceivable wickedness, suffered itself to be undone for a penny? Let the reporter answer:--

"---- FORSTER, Esq., advanced, and, assuming _a teapot position_ on the stage, moved the first resolution, to the effect 'That the bread-tax was the cause of all distress, and that they should use their strenuous efforts to remove it.' 'Ladies (there was one old woman _in a shocking bad black and white straw bonnet present_) and gentlemen (said he), this is a public meeting to all intents and purposes.'"

For ourselves we care not for an orator's standing like a teapot, if what he pours out be something better than mere hot-water or dead small beer. If, however, we were to typify orators in delf, there are many Tory talkers whom we would associate with more ignominious shapes of crockery than that of a teapot--senators who are taken by the handle, and by their party used for the dirtiest offices.

We now come to the bad old woman whose excess of iniquity was blazoned in her "bad black and white straw bonnet." This woman might have been an ASPASIA, a DE STAEL, a Mrs. SOMERVILLE,--nay, the SYBILLA CUMEA herself. What of that? The "bad" bonnet must sink the large souled Grecian to a cinder-wench, make the Frenchwoman a trapes from the Palais Royal, our fair astronomer a gipsy of Greenwich Park, and the fate-foretelling sybil a crone crawled from the worst garret of Battle-bridge. The head is nothing; the bonnet's all. Think you that Mrs. Somerville could have studied herself into reputation, that the moon and stars would have condescended to smile upon her, if she had not attended their evening parties in a handsome turban, duly plumed and jewelled?

Come we now to the next recorded atrocity:--

"There jumped now upon the stage _a red-haired, laughing-hyena faced, fustian-coated biped_, exclaiming--'My name is Wall! I have a substantive amendment to move to the resolution now proposed--('Go off, off! ooh, ooh, ooh! turn him out, out, out!') We are met in a place where religion is taught (groans). Well, then, we are met where they "teach the young idea how to shoot"'--(laughter, groans, and 'Go on, Wall.') Turning to the young _gents_ on the platform, 'You,' quoth Mr. Wall, 'have not read history: you clerks at 16s. a week, with your gold chains and pins.'"

Red hair was first made infamous by JUDAS ISCARIOT; hence the reporter not only shows the intensity of his Christianity, but his delicate knowledge of human character, by the fine contempt cast upon the felon locks of the speaker. Red hair is doubtless the brand of Providence; the mark set upon guilty man to give note and warning to his unsuspicious fellow-creatures. Like the scarlet light at the North Foreland, it speaks of shoals, and sands, and flats. The emperor Commodus, who had all his previous life rejoiced in flaxen locks, woke, the morning after his first contest in the arena, a red-haired man! But then, with a fine knowledge of the wholesome prejudices of the world, he turned the curse upon his head into a beauty; for he--powdered it with gold-dust. Could Mr. WALL, of the penny theatre, induce the Master of the Mint to play his _coiffeur_, how would the reporter fall on his knees and worship the divinity!

Mr. WALL, being of the opposite faction, in addition to the unpowdered ignominy of his hair, has also the face of a hyena! This fact opens a question too vast for our one solitary page. We lack at least the amplitude of a quarto to prove that all men are fashioned, even in the womb, with features that shall hereafter beautifully harmonise with the politics of the grown creature. Now WALL, being ordained a poor man and a Chartist, is endowed with a "laughing hyena" countenance. He even loses the vantage ground of our common humanity, and is sunk by his poverty and his politics to the condition of a beast, and of a most unamiable beast into the bargain. However, the vast enfolding iniquity is yet to be displayed and duly shuddered at; for _WALL_, the biped hyena, wears--a fustian coat!

As journalists, we trust we have our common share--which is no little--of human vanity. Nevertheless, with the highest private opinion of our own powers, we feel we can add nothing to the picture drawn by the reporter. The fustian coat, with a tongue in every button-hole, discourses on its own inwoven infamy.

We recognise with great pleasure a growing custom on the part of political reporters to merge the orators and listeners at public meetings in their several articles of dress. This practice has doubtless originated in a most philosophical consideration of the sympathies between the outer and the inner man, and has its source in the earliest records of human life. The patriarchs rent their garments in token of the misery that lacerated their souls: then rags and tatters were ennobled by sorrow--there was a deep sentiment in sackcloth and ashes. We have, however, improved upon the ignorance of primitive days; and though we still admit the covering of man to be typical of his condition of mind, we wisely keep our respect for super-Saxony, and expend contempt and ridicule on corduroy and fustian. We yet hope to see the day when certain political meetings will be briefly reported as follow:--

"Faded Blue Coat, with tarnished Brass Buttons, took the chair.

"Velveteen Jacket moved the first resolution, which was seconded by Check Shirt and Ankle-jacks.

"Brown Great Coat, with holes in elbows, moved the second resolution--seconded by Greasy Drab Breeches and Dirty Leather Gaiters.

"After thanks to Blue Coat had been moved by Brown Surtout and Crack under both Arms, the Fustian Jackets departed."

Would not this be quite sufficient? Knowing the philosophy of appearance in England, might we not by our imagination supply a truer speech to every orator than could be taken down by the most faithful reporter?

Q.

* * * * *

PUNCH'S PENCILLINGS.--No. XVI.

* * * * *

LIST OF THE PREMIUMS

AWARDED BY THE

HOOKHAM-CUM-SNIVEY LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC SOCIETY,

FOR THE YEAR 1841.

FIRST PREMIUM.

MANAGEMENT OF LANDED PROPERTY.

To Count D'Orsay, for the most approved Essay on Cultivating a Flower Pot, and the Expediency of growing Mignionette in preference to Sweet Pea on the Window-sills--

_The Pasteboard Medal of the Society._

SECOND PREMIUM.

METHOD OF GROWING PERMANENT WHISKERS.

To Colonel Sibthorp, for a Report of several successful Experiments in laying down his own Cheeks for a permanent growth of Whisker, with a description of the most approved Hair-fence worn on the Chin, and the exact colour adapted to all seasons--

_The Pasteboard Medal and a Bottle of Balm of Columbia._

THIRD PREMIUM.

IMPROVING THE CONDITION OF THE POOR, BY INVENTING A VALUABLE SUBSTITUTE FOR MEAT, BREAD, VEGETABLES, AND OTHER MASTICATORY ALIMENT.

To the Poor-Law Commissioners, for their valuable Essay on Cheap Feeding, and an Account of several Experiments made in the Unions throughout the Kingdom; by which they have satisfactorily demonstrated that a man may exist on stewed chips and sawdust--also for their original receipt for making light, cheap workhouse soup, with a gallon of water and a gooseberry--

_The Pasteboard Medal and a Mendicity Ticket._

FOURTH PREMIUM.

QUANTITY OF BRAINS REQUIRED TO MAKE A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT.

To Peter Borthwick, for his ingenious Treatise, proving logically that a Member requires no Brains, instancing his own case, where the deficiency was supplied by the length of his ears--

_The Pewter Medal, and a Copy of Enfield's Speaker._

FIFTH PREMIUM.

AMOUNT OF CASH REQUIRED BY A GENTLEMAN TO KEEP A WALKING-STICK, A PAIR OF MOUSTACHES, AND A CIGAR.

To the Society of Law Clerks, for the best Account of how Fifteen Shillings a week may be managed, to enable the Possessor to "draw it rather brisk" after office-hours in Regent-street, including board and lodging for his switch and spurs, and Warren's jet for his Wellingtons--

_The Tin Medal and a Penny Cuba._

SIXTH PREMIUM.

FATTENING ALDERMEN.

To Sir Peter Laurie, for a Bill of Fare of the various viands demolished at the Lord Mayors' Dinners for the last ten years--also, for an account of certain experiments made to ascertain the contents of the Board of Aldermen at City Feasts, by the application of a new regulating-belt, called the Gastronometer--

_A German Silver Medal and a Gravy Spoon._

* * * * *

PUNCH'S REVIEW.

THE MEMOIRS OF MADAME LAFFARGE.

The title, I think, will strike. The fashion, you know, now, is to do away with old prejudices, and to rescue certain characters from the illiberal odium with which custom has marked them. Thus we have a generous Israelite, an amiable cynic, and so on. Now, Sir, I call my play--_The Humane Footpad_.--SYLVESTER DAGGERWOOD.

Some four or five seasons since, the eccentric Buckstone produced a three-act farce, which, by dint of its after title--_The School for Sympathy_--and of much highly comic woe, exhibited in the acting of Farren and Nisbett, was presented to uproariously-affected audiences during some score nights. The hinge of the mirth was made to turn upon the irresistible drollery of one man's running away with another man's wife, and the outrageous fun of the consequent suicide of the injured husband; the _bons mots_ being most tragically humorous, and the aphorisms of the several characters facetiously concatenative of the nouns contained in the leading name of the piece--"_Love_ and _Murder_."

Now this was a magnificent idea--one of those brilliant efforts which cannot but tend to lift the theatre in the estimation of every man of delicacy and education. A new source of attraction was at once discovered,--a vast fund of available fuel was suddenly found to recruit the cinerulent embers of the drama withal. It became evident that, after Joe Miller, the ordinary of Newgate was the funniest dog in the world. Manslaughter, arson, and the more practical jokes in the Calendar, were already familiar to the stage; it was a refinement of the Haymarket authors to introduce those livelier sallies of wit--crim. con. and felo-de-se. The "immense coalitions" of all manner of crimes and vices in the subsequent "highway school"--the gradual development of every unnatural tendency in the youthful Jack Sheppard (another immor-t-al work by the author of the afore-lauded comedy)--the celebration, by a classic chaunt, of his reaching the pinnacle of depravity; this was the _ne plus ultra_ of dramatic invention. Robbers and murderers began to be treated, after the Catholic fashion, with extreme unction; audiences were intoxicated with the new drop; sympathy became epidemic; everybody was bewildered and improved; and nobody went and threw themselves off the Monument with a copy of the baleful drama in his pocket!

But the magnificence of the discovery was too large to be grasped by even the gluttonous eye of the managers, The Adelphi might overflow--the Surrey might quake with reiterated "pitsfull"--still there remained over and above the feast-crumbs sufficient for the battenings of other than theatrical appetites. Immediately the press-gang--we beg pardon, the _press_--arose, and with a mighty throe spawned many monsters. Great drama! _Greater Press!_ GREATEST PUBLIC!

Now this was all excellent well as far as it went; but still there was something wanted of more reality than the improvisations of a romancist. Ainsworth might dip his pen in the grossest epithets; Boz might dabble in the mysterious dens of Hebrew iniquity; even Bulwer might hash up to us his recollections of St. Giles's dialogue; and yet it was evident that they were all the while only "shamming"--only cooking up some dainty dish according to a _recipe_, or, as it is still frequently pronounced, a _receipt_,--which last, with such writers, will ever be the guide-post of their track.

But something more was wanted; and here it is--here, in the Memoirs of Marie Cappelle.

This lady, perhaps the most remarkable woman of her age, has published a book--half farce, half novel--in which she treats by turns with the clap-trap agony of a Bulwer, the quaint sneer of a Dickens, and the effrontery of an Ainsworth, that serious charge which employed the careful investigation of the most experienced men in France for many weeks, and which excited a degree of interest in domestic England almost unexampled in the history of foreign trials. This work is published by a gentleman who calls himself "Publisher in ordinary to her Majesty," and may be procured at any book-seller's by all such as have a guinea and a day's leisure at the mercy of the literary charlatan who contrived it.

In the strictest confidence we would suggest, that if a treaty could be ratified with Madame Marie Cappelle Laffarge, we do not doubt that our nursery--yea, our laundry--maids would learn to spell the precious sentences, to their own great edification and that of the children placed under their charge.

* * * * *

OUR TRADE REPORT.

Coals are a shade blacker than they were last week, but not quite so heavy; and turnips are much lighter than they have been known for a very considerable period.

Great complaints are made of the ticketing system; and persons going to purchase shawls, as they supposed, at nine-pence three-farthings each, are disgusted at being referred to a very small one pound sixteen marked very lightly in pencil immediately before the 9-3/4d., which is very large and in very black ink. There were several transactions of this kind during the whole morning.

The depressed state of the Gossamer-market has long been a subject of conversation among the four-and-niners who frequent the cheap coffee-shops in the City; but no one knows the cause of what has taken place, nor can they exactly state what the occurrence is that they are so loudly complaining of.

Bones continue to fetch a penny for two pounds; but great murmurs are heard of the difficulty of making up a pound equal to the very liberal weights which the marine-store keepers use when making their _purchases_; they, however, make up for it by using much lighter weights when they sell, which is so far fair and satisfactory.

The arrivals in baked potatoes have been very numerous; fifty cans were entered outwards on Saturday.

* * * * *

RELATIVE GENTILITY.

Two ladies of St. Giles's disputing lately on the respectability of each other's family, concluded the debate in the following way:--"Mrs. Doyle, ma'am, I'd have you know that I've an uncle a _bannister_ of the law." "Much about your _bannister_," retorted Mrs. Doyle; "haven't I a first cousin a _corridor_ in the navy?"

* * * * *

KEEPING IT DARK.

Jim Bones, a free nigger of New York, has a child so exceedingly dark that he cannot be seen on the lightest day.

* * * * *

THE GENTLEMAN'S OWN BOOK.

REVENONS A NOS MOUTONS--i.e. (for the benefit of country members) to return to our mutton, or rather the "trimmings." The ornaments which notify the pecuniary superiority of the wearer include chains, rings, studs, canes, watches, and purses. _Chains_ should be of gold, and cannot be too ostentatiously displayed; for a proper disposition of these "braveries" is sure to induce the utmost confidence in the highly useful occupants of Pigot's and Robson's Directory. We have seen some waistcoats so elaborately festooned, that we would stake our inkstand that the most unbelieving money-lender would have taken the personal security of the wearer without hesitation. The perfection to which mosaic-work has arrived may possibly hold out a strong temptation to the thoughtless to substitute the shadow for the reality. Do not deceive yourself; an experienced eye will instantly detect the imposition, though your ornaments may be

for, we will defy any true gentleman to preserve an equanimity of expression under the hint--either visual or verbal--that (to use the language of the poet) you are "a man of brass."

We have a faint recollection of a class of gentlemen who used to attach an heterogeneal collection of massive seals and keys to one end of a chain, and a small church-clock to the other. The chain then formed a pendulum in front of their small-clothes, and the dignified oscillation of the appendages was considered to distinguish the gentleman. They were also used as auxiliaries in argument; for whenever an hiatus occurred in the discussion, the speaker, by having resort to his watch-chain, could frequently confound his adversary by commencing a series of rapid gyrations. But the fashion has descended to merchants, lawyers, doctors, _et sui generis_, who never drive bargains, ruin debtors, kill patients, _et cetera_, without having recourse to this imposing decoration.

_Rings_ are the next indicators of superfluous cash. As they are _merely ornamental_, they should resemble vipers, tapeworms, snakes, toads, monkey's, death's heads, and similar engaging and pleasing subjects. The more liberally the fingers are enriched, the greater the assurance that the hand is never employed in any useful labour, and is consequently only devoted to the minisitration of indulgences, and the exhibition of those elegant productions which distinguish the highly-civilised gentleman from the _highly-tattooed_ savage.

Mourning-rings have an air of extreme respectability; for they are always suggestive of a legacy, and of the fact that you have been connected with somebody who was not buried at the expense of the parish.

_Studs_ should be selected with the greatest possible care, and in our opinion the small gold ones can only be worn by a perfect gentleman; for whilst they perform their required office, they do not distract the attention from the quality and whiteness of your linen. Some that we have seen were evidently intended for cabinet pictures, rifle targets and breast-plates.

_Pins._--These necessary adjuncts to the cravat of a gentleman have undergone a singular revolution during late years; but we confess we are admirers of the present fashion, for if it is desirable to indulge in an ornament, it is equally desirable that everybody should be gratified by the exhibition thereof. We presume that it is with this commendable feeling that pins'-heads (whose smallness in former days became a proverb) should now resemble the apex of a beadle's staff; and, as though to make "assurance doubly sure," a plurality is absolutely required for the decoration of a gentleman. In these times, when political partisanship is so exceedingly violent, why not make the pins indicative of the opinions of the wearer, as the waistcoat was in the days of Fox. We could suggest some very appropriate designs; for instance, the heads of Peel and Wakley, connected by a _very_ slight link--Sibthorp and Peter Borthwick by a series of long-car rings--Muntz and D'Israeli cut out of very hard wood, and united by a hair-chain; and many others too numerous to mention.

* * * * *

HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY.

PARODIED BY A XX TEETOTALLER.