Chapter 3

Such may be the hopes of a few, innocent of the knowledge of the stony-heartedness of Toryism. For ourselves, we hope nothing from Sir ROBERT PEEL. His flourish on the warming and ventilation of the new Houses of Parliament, taken in connexion with his opinions on the Corn Laws, reminds us of the benevolence of certain people in the East, who, careless and ignorant of the claims of their fellow-men, yet take every pains to erect comfortable hospitals and temples for dogs and vermin. Old travellers speak of these places, and of men being hired that the sacred fleas might feed upon their blood. Now, when we consider the history of legislation--when we look upon many of the statutes emanating from Parliament--how often might we call the House of Commons the House of Fleas? To be sure, there is yet this great difference: the poor who give their blood there, unlike the wretches of the East, give it for nothing!

Sir ROBERT'S speech promises nothing whatever as to his future policy. He leaves everything open. He will not say that he will not go in precisely the line chalked out by the Whigs. "Next session," says. Sir ROBERT, "you shall see what you shall see." About next February, _Orson_, in the words of the oracle in the melo-drama, will be "endowed with reason." Until then, we must accept a note-of-hand for Sir ROBERT, that he may pay the expenses of the government.

"I have already expressed my opinion, that it is absolutely necessary to adopt some measures for equalising the revenue and expenditure, and we will avail ourselves of the earliest opportunity, after mature consideration of the circumstances of the country, to submit to a committee of the whole house measures for remedying the existing state of things. _Whether that can be best done by diminishing the expenditure of the country, or by increasing the revenue, or by a combination of those two means--the reduction of the expenditure and the increase of the revenue--I must postpone for future consideration._"

Why, Sir ROBERT was called in because he knew the disease of the patient. He had his remedy about him. The pills and the draught were in his pocket--yes, in his patriotic poke; but he refused to take the lid from the box--resolutely determined that the cork should not be drawn from the all-healing phial--until he was regularly called in; and, as the gypsies say, his hand crossed with a bit of money. Well, he now swears with such vigour to the excellence of his physic--he so talks for hours and hours upon the virtues of his drugs, that at length a special messenger is sent to him, and directions given that the Miraculous Doctor should be received at the state entrance of the patient's castle, with every mark of consideration. The Doctor is ensured his fee, and he sets to work. Thousands and thousands of hearts are beating whilst his eye scrutinizes John Bull's tongue--suspense weighs upon the bosom of millions as the Doctor feels his pulse. Well, these little ceremonies settled, the Doctor will, of course, pull out his phial, display his boluses, and take his leave with a promise of speedy health. By no means. "I must go home," says the Doctor, "and study your disease for a few months; cull simples by moonlight; and consult the whole Materia Medica; after that I'll write you a prescription. For the present, good morning."

"But, my dear Doctor," cries the patient, "I dismissed my old physician, because you insisted that you knew my complaint and its, remedy already."

"That's very true," says Doctor PEEL, "but _then_ I wasn't called in."

The learned Baldæus tells us, that "Ceylon doctors give _jackall's flesh_ for consumptions." Now, consumption is evidently John Bull's malady; hence, we would try the Ceylon prescription. The jackalls are the landowners; take a little of _their flesh_, Sir ROBERT, and for once, spare the bowels of the manufacturer.

Q.

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PUNCH'S PENCILLINGS.--No. XI.

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BUNKS'S DISCOVERIES IN THE THAMES.

A highly important and interesting survey of the coast between Arundel-stairs and Hungerford-market pier, is now being executed, under the superintendence of Bill Bunks, late commander of the coal-barge "Jim Crow." The result of his labours hitherto have been of the most interesting nature to the natural historian, the antiquarian, and the navigator. In his first report to the magistrates of the Thames-police, he states that he has advanced in his survey to Waterloo-bridge stairs, which he describes as a good landing-place for wherries, funnies, and small craft, but inadequate as a harbour for vessels of great burthen. The shore from Arundel-street, as far as he has explored, consists chiefly of a tenacious, dark-coloured substance, very closely resembling thick mud, intermixed with loose shingles, pebbles, and coal-slates. The depth of water is uncertain, as it varies with the tide, which he ascertains rises and falls every six hours; the greatest depth of water being usually found at the time when the tide is full in, and _vice versa_. He has also made the valuable discovery, that a considerable portion of the shore is always left uncovered at low water, at which periods he availed himself of the opportunity afforded him of examining it more minutely, and of collecting a large number of curious specimens in natural history, and interesting antiquarian relics. As we have had the privilege of being permitted to view them in the private museum of the "Stangate-and-Milbank-both-sides-of-the-water-united-for-the-advancement- of-Science-Association," we are enabled to lay before our readers the particulars of a few of these spoils, which the perseverance and intrepidity of our gallant countryman, Bill Bunks, has rescued from the hungry jaws of the rapacious deep; viz.:--

1. "_A case of shells._" The greater number of the specimens are pronounced, by competent judges, to be shells of the native oyster; a fact worthy of note, as it proves the existence, in former ages, of an oyster-bed on this spot, and oysters being a sea-fish, it appears evident that either the sea has removed from London, or London has withdrawn itself from the sea. The point is open to discussion. We hope that the "Hookham-cum-Snivey Institution" will undertake the solution of it at one of their early meetings.

2. "_The neck of a black bottle, with a cork in it._" This is a very interesting object of art, and one which has given rise to considerable discussion amongst the _literati_. The cork, which is inserted in the fragment of the neck, is quite perfect; it has been impressed with a seal in reddish-coloured wax; a portion of it remains, with a partly obliterated inscription, in Roman characters, of which we have been enabled to give the accompanying fac-simile.

With considerable difficulty we have deciphered the legend thus:--The first letter B has evidently been a mistake of the engraver, who meant it for a P, the similarity of the sounds of the two letters being very likely to lead him into such an error. With this slight alteration, we have only to add the letter O to the first line, and we shall have "PRO." It requires little acuteness to discover that the second word, if complete, would be "PATRIA;" and the letters BR, the two lowest of the inscription, only want the addition of the letters IT to make "BRIT." or "BRITANNIARUM." The legend would then run, "PRO PATRIA BRITANNIARUM," which there is good reason to suppose was the inscription on the cellar seal of Alfred the Great, though some presumptuous and common-minded persons have asserted that the legend, if perfect, would read, "BRETT'S PATENT BRANDY." Every antiquarian has, however, indignantly refused to admit such a degrading supposition.

3. "_A perfect brick, and two broken tiles._" The first of these articles is in a high state of preservation, and from the circumstance of portions of mortar being found adhering to it, it is supposed that it formed part of the old London Wall. We examined the fragments of the tiles carefully, but found no inscription or other data, by which to ascertain their probable antiquity: the tiles, in short, are buried in mystery.

4. "_A fossil flat-iron._" This antediluvian relic was found imbedded in a Sandy deposite opposite Surrey-street, near high-water mark.

5. "_An ancient leather buskin,_" supposed to have belonged to one of the Saxon kings. This singular covering for the foot reaches no higher than the ancle, and is laced up the front with a leathern thong, like a modern highlow, to which it bears a very decided resemblance.

6. "_A skeleton of some unknown animal._" Antiquarians cannot agree to what genus this animal belonged; ignorant people imagine it to have been a cat.

7. "_A piece of broken porcelain._" This is an undoubted relic of Roman manufacture, and appears to have formed part of a plate. The blue "willow pattern" painted on it shows the antiquity of that popular design.

There are several other extremely rare and curious antiquities to be seen in this collection, which we have not space to notice at present, but shall take an early opportunity of returning to the valuable discoveries made by the indefatigable Mr. Bunks.

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A NEW CONJURING COMPANY.

A report of so extraordinary a nature has just reached us, that we hasten to be the first, as usual, to lay the outlines of it before our readers, with the same early authenticity that has characterised all our other communications. Mr. Yates is at present in Paris, arranging matters with Louis Philippe and his family, to appear at the Adelphi during the ensuing season!!

It would appear that the mania for great people wishing to strut and fret their four hours and a quarter upon the stage is on the increase--at least according to our friends the constituent members of the daily press. Despite the newspaper-death of the manager of the Surrey, by which his enemies wished to "_spargere voces in vulgum ambiguas_" to his prejudice (which means, in plain English, to tell lies of him behind his back), we have seen the report contradicted, that Mrs. Norton was about to appear there in a new equestrian spectacle, with double platforms, triple studs of Tartar hordes, and the other amphitheatrical enticers. We ourselves can declare, that there is no foundation in the announcement, no more than in the _on dit_ that the Countess of Blessington was engaged as a counter-attraction, for a limited number of nights, at the Victoria; or her lovely niece--a _power_ in herself--had been prevailed upon to make her _début_ at the Lyceum, in a new piece of a peculiar and unprecedented plot, which was prevented from coming off by some disagreement as to terms between the principal parties concerned. For true theatrical intelligence, our columns alone are to be relied upon; bright as a column of sparkling water, overpowering as a column of English cavalry, overlooking all London at once, as the column of the Monument, but _not_ so heavy as the column of the Duke of York.

_Mais revenons à nos moutons_: which implies (we are again compelled to translate, and this time it is for the benefit of those who have not been to Boulogne), "we spoke of Louis Philippe and his family." This sagacious monarch, foreseeing that the French were in want of some new excitement, and grieving to find that the _pompe funèbre_ of Napoleon, and the inauguration of his statue upon the monument of the victories that never took place, had not made the intense impression upon the minds of his vivacious subjects that he had intended it should produce, begins to think, that before long a fresh _émeute_ will once more throw up the barricades and paving-stones in the Rue St. Honoré and Boulevard des Italiens. As such, with the prudent foresight which has hitherto directed all his proceedings, he is naturally looking forward to the best means of gaining an honest livelihood for himself and family, should a corrupted national guard, or an excited St. Antoine mob take it into their heads to dine in the Tuileries without being asked. Having read in the English newspapers, which he regularly peruses, of the astounding performances of the Wizard of the North at the Adelphi, more especially as regards the "paralysing gun delusion," he commences to imagine that he is well qualified to undertake the same responsibility, more especially from the practice he has had in that line from pistols, rifles, fowling-pieces, and, above all, twenty-barrel infernal machines. He has therefore offered his services at the Adelphi, and Mr. Yates, with his accustomed energy, and avowed propensity for French translations, has agreed to bring him over. If we remember truly, the Wizard says in his programme, that the secret shall die with him. We beg to inform him, in all humility, that he deceives himself, for Louis Philippe and the Duke d'Aumale know the trick as well as he does. They would ride through two lines of _sans culottes_, all armed to the teeth, without the least injury. They would catch the bullets in their teeth, and take them home as curiosities.

Orleans, from his knowledge of the English language, will probably become the adapter of the pieces "from the French" about to be produced. The Duke de Nemours will be engaged to play the fops in the light comedies, a line which, it is anticipated, he will shine in; and the Prince de Joinville can dance a capital sailor's hornpipe, which he learnt on board the _Belle Poule_, a name which our own sailors, with an excusable disregard for genders, converted into "The Jolly Cock." Of course, from his late experience, d'Aumale will assist Louis Philippe, upon emergency, in the gun trick, and, with the other attractions, a profitable season is sure to result.

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AN EXTENSIVE SACRIFICE.

By Dr. Reid's new plan for ventilating the House of Commons, a porous hair carpet will be required for the floor; to provide materials for which Mr. Muntz has, in the most handsome manner, offered to shave off his beard and whiskers. This is true magnanimity--Muntz is a noble fellow! and the lasting gratitude of the House is due to him and his _hairs_ for ever.

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FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE.

It is expected that Mr. Snooks and family will pass the winter at Battersea, as the warmth of the climate is strongly recommended for the restoration of the health of Mrs. Snooks, who is in a state of such alarming delicacy, as almost to threaten a realisation of the fears of her best friends and the hopes of the black-job master who usually serves the family.

Mr. Snivins gave a large tea-party, last week, at Greenwich, where the boiling water was supplied by the people of the house, the essentials having been brought by the visitors.

Mr. Popkins has left his attic in the New-Cut, for a _tour_ on the Brixton tread-mill.

K 32 left his official residence at the station-house, for his beat in Leicester-square, and repaired at once to a public-house in the neighbourhood, where he had an audience of several pickpockets.

We are authorised to state, that there is no foundation whatever for the report that a certain well-known policeman is about to lead to the altar a certain unknown lady. The rumour originated in his having been seen leading her before the magistrate.

Dick Wiggins transacted business yesterday in Cold Bath-fields, and picked the appointed quantity of oakum.

Mr. Baron Nathan has left Margate for Kennington. We have not heard whether he was accompanied by the Baroness. The Honourable Miss Nathan, when we last heard of her, was dancing a hornpipe among a shilling's worth of new laid eggs, at Tivoli.

A few minutes after Sir Robert Peel left Privy-Gardens, in a carriage and four, for Claremont, Sam Snoxell jumped up behind the Brighton stage, from which he descended, after having been whipped down, at Kennington.

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IMPORTANT INVENTION.

The celebrated _savant_ Sir Peter Laurie, whose scientific labours to discover the cause of the variation of the weathercock on Bow Church, have astonished the Lord Mayor and the Board of Aldermen, has lately turned his attention to the subject of railroads. The result of his profound cogitations has been highly satisfactory. He has produced a plan for a railway on an entirely new principle, which will combine cheapness and security in an extraordinary degree. We have been favoured with a view of the inventor's plans, and we have no hesitation in saying that, if adopted, the most timid person may, with perfect safety, take

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THE BATTLE AND THE BREEZE.

Our readers are informed that, despite the belligerent character of the correspondence between the fierce Fitz-Roy and the "Gentle" Shepherd, although it came to a slight _blow_, there is nothing to warrant an anticipation of their

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THE FASTING PHENOMENON.

The Tories have engaged Bernard Cavanagh, the Irish fasting phenomenon, to give lectures on his system of abstinence, which they think might be beneficially introduced amongst the working-classes of England. This is a truly Christian principle of government, for while the people _fast_, the ministers will not fail to _prey_.

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TORY BOONS.

_Air_.--"NORA CREINA"

The Whigs they promised every day To cure the ills which did surround us; It should have been, "no cure, no pay!" For now we're worse than when they found us. The Tory clique at length are in, And vow that they will save the nation, So kindly give us, to begin-- Exchequer bills and ventilation. Oh! the artful Tories _dear_, Oh! the _dear_, the artful Tories They alone perceive, 'tis clear, That taxes tend to England's glories.

The Whigs declared cheap bread was good; To satisfy the people's cravings They tried to take the tax off wood-- Lord knows what might be done with shavings! The Tories vow these schemes were wrong, And adverse to good legislation; Therefore, propose (so runs our song)-- Exchequer bills and ventilation. Oh! the artful Tories _dear_, Oh! the _dear_ and artful Tories; They alone perceive, 'tis clear, Taxes tend to England's glories.

The Whigs became the poor man's foe, Mix'd ashes in his cup of sorrow; Nor thought the pauper's "lot of woe," Perchance might be their own to-morrow. The Tories said they were his friend, That they abhorr'd procrastination; So give--till next July shall end-- Exchequer bills and ventilation. Oh! the artful Tories _dear_, Oh! the _dear_ and artful Tories; They alone perceive, 'tis clear, Taxes tend to England's glories.

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RECREATION FOR THE PUBLIC.

Sir Robert Peel seems impressed with the necessity of providing the citizens of London with additional parks, where they may recreate themselves, and breathe the free air of heaven. But, strange as it may seem, the people cannot live on fresh air, unaccompanied by some stomachic of a more substantial nature; yet they are forbidden to grumble at the diet, or, if they do, they are silenced according to the good old Tory plan of

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Colonel Sibthorp thinks he recollects having been Hannibal once--long ago--although he cannot account for his having been beaten in the _Pun_-ic war.

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THE LIGHT OF ALL NATIONS.

The public are aware that this important national undertaking, which is now about to be commenced, is to be a prodigious cast-iron light-house on the Goodwin Sands. Peter Borthwick and our Sibby are already candidates for the office of universal illuminators. Peter rests his claims chiefly on the brilliancy of his ideas, as exemplified in his plan for lighting the metropolis with bottled moonshine; while Sib. proudly refers to our columns for imperishable evidences of the intensity of his wit, conscious that these alone would entitle him to be called "the light of all nations." We trust that Sir Robert Peel will exercise a sound discretion in bestowing this important situation. Highly as we esteem Peter's dazzling talents--profoundly as we admire his bottled moonshine scheme--we feel there is no man in the world more worthy of being elevated to the lantern than our refulgent friend Sibthorp.

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A SHORT TREATISE OF DRAMATIC CASUALTIES.

VERY PROFITABLE TO READ.

Let our Treatise of Dramatic Casualties be that which treateth of the misfortunes contingent upon the profession of dramatic authors. Now, of unfortunate dramatic authors there be two grand kinds--namely, they that be unfortunate before the production of their works, and they that be unfortunate after the production of their works.

And first, among them that be unfortunate before the production of their works may he enumerated--

1.--He that, having but one manuscript of his piece leaveth the same with the manager for inspection, and it falleth out that he seeth it no more, neither heareth thereof.

2.--He that having translated a piece from the French, and bestowed thereon much time, findeth himself forestalled.

3.--He that, having written a pantomime, carrieth it in his pocket, and straight there cometh a dishonest person, who, taking the same, selleth it for waste paper.

4.--He that presenteth his piece to all the theatres in succession, and lo! it ever returneth, accompanied with a polite note expressive of disapprobation or the like.

5.--He whose piece is approved by the manager, but, nevertheless, the same produceth it not, for divers reasons, which do vary at every interview.

6.--He that communicateth the idea of a yet unwritten drama to a friend, who, being of a fair wit, and prompt withal, useth the same to his own ends and reapeth the harvest thereof.

And secondly, of them that be unfortunate after the production of their works, there be some whose pieces are successful, and there be some whose pieces are not successful.

And firstly, of unfortunate authors whose pieces are unsuccessful there be--

1.--Those who write a piece which faileth through its own demerits, which may be, as--

A.--He that writeth a farce or comedy, and neglecteth to introduce jokes in the same.

B.--He that writeth a farce or comedy, and introduceth bad jokes in the same.

C.--He that writeth a farce or comedy, and introduceth old jokes in the same.

D.--He that writeth a tragedy, and introduceth matter for merriment therein.

E.--He that, in either tragedy, comedy, farce, or other entertainment, shocketh the propriety of the audience, or causeth a division in the same, by political allusions.

2.--He that writeth a piece which faileth, though not through its own demerits, which may be, as--

A.--When the principal actor, not having the author's words by heart, and being of a suggestive wit and good assurance, substituteth others, which he deemeth sufficient.

B.--When the principal actor, not having the author's words by heart, and being of a dull and heavy turn, and deaf withal, substituteth nothing, but standeth aghast, yearning for the voice of the prompter.

C.--When the scene-shifter ingeniously introduceth a forest into a bed-chamber, or committeth the like incongruity, marvellous pleasant and mirthful to behold, but in no way conducive to success.