Page:Punch vol 1.djvu/18

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AN ODE.

PICKED UP IN KILLPACK'S DIVAN.

Cum notis variorum.
"Excise Court.—An information was laid against Mr. Killpack, for selling spirituous liquor. Mr. James (the counsel for the defendant) stated that there was a club held there, of which Mr. Keeley, the actor, was treasurer, and many others of the theatrical profession were members, and that they had a store of brandy, whiskey, and other spirits. Fined £5 in each case."—Observer.

INVOCATION.
Assist, ye jocal nine^[1], inspire my soul!
(Waiter! a go of Brett's best alcohol,
A light, and one of Killpack's mild Havannahs).
Fire me! again I say, while loud hosannas
I sing of what we were—of what we now are.
    Wildly let me rave,
    To imprecate the knave

Whose curious information turned our porter sour,
Bottled our stout, doing it (ruthless cub!)
     Brown,
     Down
Knocking our snug, unlicensed club;
Changing, despite our belle esprit, at one fell swop.
Into a legal coffee-crib, our contraband cook-shop!

ODE.
    Then little Bob arose,
    And doff'd his clothes,
Exclaiming, "Momus! Stuff!
I've played him long enough,"
And, as the public seems inclined to sack us,
Behold me ready dressed to play young Bacchus.

 He said^[2], his legs the barrel span,
 And thus the Covent Garden god began;—
"GENTLEMEN,—I am—ahem—!—I beg your pardon,
But, ahem! as first low com. of Common Garden—
No, I don't mean that, I mean to say,
That if we were—ahem!—to pay
So much per quarter for our quarterns, [Cries of 'Hear!']
Import our own champagne and ginger-beer;
In short, small duty pay on all we sup—
Ahem!—you understand—I give it up."
    The speech was ended,
    And Bob descended.
The club was formed. A spicy club it was—
Especially on Saturdays; because
They dined extr'ordinary cheap at five o'clock:
When there were met members of the Dram. A. Soc.
Those of the sock and buskin, artists, court gazetteers—
Odd fellows all—odder than all their club compeers.
Some were sub-editors, others reporters,
And more illuminati, joke-importers.
    The club was heterogen'ous;
    By strangers seen as
A refuge for destitute bons mots
Dépôt for leaden jokes and pewter pots;
Repertory for gin and jeux d'esprit
Literary pound for vagrant rapartee;
Second-hand shop for left-off witticisms;
Gall'ry for Tomkins and Pitt-icisms;^[3]
Foundling hospital for every bastard pun;
In short, a manufactory for all sorts of fun!

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Arouse my muse! such pleasing themes to quit,
    Hear me when I say
    "Donnez-moi du frenzy, s'il vous plaît'^[4]
Give me a most tremendous fit
Of indignation, a wild volcanic ebullition.
    Or deep anathema,
    Fatal as J———d's bah!
To hurl excisemen downward to perdition.
May genial gin no more delight their throttles—
Their casks grow leaky, bottomless their bottles;
May smugglers run, and they ne'er make a seizure;
May they—I'll curse them farther at my leisure.
    But for our club,
    "Ay, there's the rub."
"We mourn it dead in its father's halls:"^[5]—
The sporting prints are cut down from the walls;
    No stuffing there,
    Not even in a chair;
The spirits are all ex(or)cised,
The coffee-cups capsized,
The coffee fine-d, the snuff all taken,
The mild Havannahs are by lights forsaken:
The utter ruin of the club's achieven—
Our very chess-boards are ex-chequered even.
"Where is our club?" X—sighs,^[6] and with a stare
Like to another echo, answers "Where?"

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MR. HUME.

We are requested by Mr. Hume to state, that being relieved from his parliamentary duties, he intends opening a day-school in the neighbourhood of the House of Commons, for the instruction of members only, in the principles of the illustrious Cocker; and to remedy in some measure his own absence from the Finance Committees, he is now engaged in preparing a Parliamentary Ready-reckoner. We heartily wish him success.

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"PRIVATE."

"In the event of the Tories coming into power, it is intended to confer the place of Postmaster-General upon Lord Clanwilliam. It would be difficult to select an individual more peculiarly fitted for the situation than his lordship, whose love of letters is notorious in the Carlton Club."—Extract from an Intercepted Letter.

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"AND DOTH NOT A MEETING LIKE THIS MAKE AMENDS?"

It is currently reported at the Conservative Clubs, that if their party should come into power, Sir Robert Peel will endeavour to conciliate the Whigs, and to form a coalition with their former opponents. We have no doubt the cautious baronet sees the necessity of the step, and would feel grateful for support from any quarter; but we much doubt the practicability of the measure. It would indeed be a strange sight to see Lord Johnny and Sir Bobby, the two great leaders of the opposition engines, with their followers, meeting amicably on the floor of the House of Commons, In our opinion, an infernal crash and smash would be the result of these

GRAND JUNCTION TRAINS.

1. "Ye local nine," a happy modification of "Ye vocal nine." The nine here so classically invocated are manifestly nine of the members of the late club, consisting of, 1 Mr. D———s J———d. 2. The subject Of the engraving, treasurer and store-keeper. 3. Mr. G———e S———h. sub-ed. J———B———. 4. Mr. B———d, Mem. Dram. Author's Society. 5. C———s S———y, ditto. 6. Mr. C———e. 7. Mr. C———s T———s, late of the firm of T———s and P———t. 8. Mr. J———e A———n, Mem. Soc. British Artists. 8. and lastly, "though not least," the author of "You loved me not in happier days."
2. "He said."—Deeply imbued with the style of the most polished of the classics, our author will be found to exhibit in some passages an imitation of it which might be considered pedantic. For ourselves, we admire the severe style. The literal rendering of the "dixit" of the ancient epicists, strikes us as being extremely forcible here.—Punch.
3. A play-bill of reminiscence, viz. "The scenery by Messers. Tomkins and Pitt."—The Authors of "But, However."
4. "Donnez-moi," &c.—The classics of all countries are aptly drawn upon by the universal crudition of our bard. A fine parody of this upon the exclamation of Belmontel's starving author: "La Gloire—donnez-moi du pain!"—Fenwick De Porquet
5. "They mourn it dead," &c.—A pretty, but perhaps too literal allusion to a popular song.—J. Rodwell.
6. "X—sighs,"—Who "X" may happen to be we have not the remotest idea. But who would not forgive a little mystification for so brilliant a pun?—The Ghost of Punch's Theatre