weak, and if anything good should turnip for Fulmer I will let you
no--he is by no means partycolour--any place, from a Lord Precedents
down to a porters, would suit him--he is equally fit for all;
besides, in a squabble like this, nobody sticks at fitness.
Yours ever, dear B.,
D. L. RAMSBOTTOM.
P.S. You never tells us nothing about the Theaters now; is your
cricket dead? if he is, why don't you git anuther? Adoo! B.
XXVIII.
MRS. RAMSBOTTOM DECLARES HERSELF A CONVERT TO "REFORM."
TO JOHN BULL.
Turnham Green, April 4, 1831.
DEAR B.,--It is a long time since you have heard from me,--and now
I do write, you will find me somewhat haltered in my principles. I
have been one over by my sun-in-law to the great caws of Reform.
He talks of not stopping till we have got the Ballad and General
Sufferance--as to the first, I am all for the song; but with regard
to the General, I cannot say I ever heard of him before; but if he is
a friend of Lord John Rustles, that is efficient--the very site of
Lord John is enuff--his name is a corjil, and his figger is comefort.
I recklect the day when I satanized Lord Drum, the Lord Privy, and
so did _you_, B.--you now you did--chiefly, as I think, because he
was yellow. Did you ever read Foot, B.?--Muster Foot says, in one of
his Farcies, that a good candidate, like a good oss, cannot be of a
bad culler--so I say--besides, what's yellower than a jinny? I think
I see you, when you read my lines, and find me alturd as I am--but
I am enlightened--the peeple _must have refurm_--my shoemaker says
so, and I know it must be so; and as Lord Drum is at the bottom of
the Refurm Bile, I love him--he looks as if he had been making the
bile for some time. Oh, B., he is an intersting crechur, and so good
natured, it is quite unpossible to void having a puncheon for him.
I admit at first the Cabnet was in a quandary--that Polly Thomson
isn't poplar amongst them. I think they are jellies of Polly, for
he most certainly has talons--Fulmer says he nose he has--he is a
great ventriloquist (I think they call it), which speaks many forin
tongs--indeed, Fulmer sometimes calls him Pollyglot as well as Polly
Thomson, and he told me the other day that the King was going to
create him Barren Barilla, and sent him out Protector of Grease,
instead of Prince Loophole, who, as they call it, bagged out.
Then Lord Althrop--what a deal of good he has dun since he has bein
in Hoffys. Look at his entrenchments--he has cut down the odd eater
of the Civil List, and tuck off the dooty on koles--and wot a deal
more he would have dun if the axe of parlymen of hother dace had
not perwented him. And as for Lord Grey himself, I _do_ say sich a
kind-arted man as not been seen for ears and ears--not a sun, nor a
cussin, nor a nevy, nor a sun-in-law, nor a wife's cussin, nor one
hingyvigyal belonging to him, but wot he has perwided for, somehow or
another. Shew me a Prim Minster as hever hacted in sich a generous
way afore--Why the Duck of Wellington, with all his fine toe doos,
when he was in place, never guv nothing vhatsoever to any of his
relations as ever I heard of--ard-arted Duck.
And then that sweet Muster Cullcraft--a dear gentleman, full of
Janus, and as neat and as nice as a nine-pin--he is the Ugh!-nit
which guv the majority, and all by thinking twice, which is a wise
thing in a man--I was not at all surprized when I heard that the nice
crechur voted with the eyes--for, says I to my Lavy, he has very
little to say to the nose, anyhow. But he was always a favourite with
the ladies--a regalar Feel-hander amongst them. And then his pore sun
Granny too, to have lost his Love--more's the petty, for they are a
nice fam'ly take 'em all to gather--
"From grave to gay, from lively to Sevier."
I hope Lord Bruffham and Fox comes up with your expectorations--he
certainly does with his hone--I went, the other night, into "Tommy's
box;" I don't know why they called the place so--it was like a vaper
bath, with certains all round it; and there I seed the Chanceseller
lying full-length on the Wulsack--(which I thought a hod thing to
have in sich a place)--and I am told he may be seen lying there every
night--when I say lying, I mean stretching,--and poor nobleman, no
wonder, for he must be a most tired out--wot with the intrests of
the nayshun, and the cawses in his Court, and the trouble he is
at to keep silence there--and carrion the bag--and riting leaden
articles in the noos-peppers, and his repeals, and one thing and
the other. Have you seen his pitcher in the Suffocating gallery of
Artists?--there he is, as like as like can be, but only carycachurd,
which is not to be wundered at, for the pitcher is panted by Lord
Lonsdale--(so the cattle-hog says)--and as his Lordship always
made him look blue on the pole, its no wunder he has made him look
yellow on the canvas--for blue and yellow is Bruffham's cullers. The
pictcher, however, is in the best place in the room, in complement
to the Lord Chanceseller--so that them as was ordered to hang his
Lordship, have done him only justass.
Then there is Lord Pummicestone--he is another of my feverits--
where did you ivir see such a Foraying Minster as he--so genteel--so
haymable--and with sich nice wiskers and white linen--never
interfeering the least with any nonsense about polyticks--never
sayin a word about his hoffice, either in Parlyment or out of it,
as I hears on; he troubles his head no more about the Belchians
and the Ditch, or the Roosians, or the Proossians, or hany of the
oosians, than I do. I'm told (by Parr and Tess) that there are no
hops for the Poles--their caws is desprut--at least so the Old
Engine we met last season at the sea side told me the day before
yesterday, as I seed him cumming out of the Horizontal Club in
Handover-square;--nevertheless, I think Lord Pummicestone is quite
wyse for not talkin--when one nose littel, it is the safest way to
say nothink. However, I may be preggudiced in his fever, for his
Lordship has promised to do the jalap wuth me, at an opp wich a
frend of ours in Taffystalk-square is to give next munth--I thoft
my duncing days was gun, but woo can resist Lord Pummicestone--that
would be a _task_.
Pursenal felines, however, shud not halways way with us, but since
Fulmer as taken this turn towards refurm, all the Minsters have
been so servile to us, that we are quite churmed. Lord Hockland,
though no grate things in the Guvment, is sich a haffable, warm
arted cretur--sich an insinivating Pier--and Sir Jims Graham, so
hunassuming, and at the same time such a fine man--how he turrified
that Ogreman Mahoon--did you see how the pore fellur was put to a
nonplush; and how he croed over O'Konnell like a kok--Grame kim out
of that, splendid--there is'nt nothink but _that_ to be sed about it;
so did Lord Althrop with Mr. Plummet Wad--a very hominous name for a
querrel--he that he cocht in his entrenchment at St. Jimses--Oh! it
makes one prowd to see such Neros as these.
But nothink will do--everybody wich wares shurts and has munney in
their pokets abuses this bill of Lord Drums; they say the bill may
parse, but nobody can conster it; and they tells us that the honly
claws they can understand in the bill is the Divil's claws, which has
set his foot in it. To be sure, B., I must say, looking at things
as they stand, cutting off sixty-two members at a blow is a serous
hopperation--I hone it is very like a Revelation. Old Tim with the
firelock, however, will shoe the effex; and (as I says to Lavy,
whenever I have a fit of coffin) wen we are in our graves, what will
it signify to hus?
I _am_ for Reform--and I hone it. The King, they say, is for it--at
wich I wunder; and the Queen is agin it--at wich I do not wunder.
But Mr. Christopher Stubbs, our hopposite neighbore, is for it;
and that has decided me--for _he_ hadmires Lord Pummicestone, and
Mister Cullcraft, and Mr. Singeing Long--so I think he has had some
new lights lately. Singeing Long, after having stood twice at the
Hold Bayley, and having been only returned once, is going to hoffer
himself for the parish of Marrowbone, as what Fulmer calls the
"_knee_ plus ultra."
And now, B., let us snitch a minuet from Pollyticks, and Pollygots,
and Polly Thomsons, for a moral inflexion or two; here is Hester come
agin--Puck, as the Galls call it--the trees is begining to shoot,
just as the bows is ceesing to unt; the sweet Buds (I ope you like
Hornithology) are commencing their wobblings on the branches, and are
hable to do wot is wise as well as pleasant--turn over a new leaf
every day of their lives. Hadam and Heve did so before them, wich is
a good President.
Wot a splundid site it is to behold the wurks of natur--the great
Halps--Strumbolli--Hetna--the sparrowgrass piping out of the beds
at Battersea--Burnells funnell under the Thames--and the Cosmorammy
in Regent Street--but one has no time for these thinks at present.
I ham absobbed with the grate question, and I culd not rest till I
opened myself to yew--you will call me a rat--but I'll trust you,
even though _I_ begun our corryspundence; for we are safe from your
Harrows, if we don't expose _ourselves_, and however I may cry
out for refurm, _enter noo_; I shall never be hass enough to be a
bartizan of it before the public.
Yours truly, dear B.,
DOROTHEA L. RAMSBOTTOM.
XXIX.
MRS. RAMSBOTTOM ON THE HOUSE OF LORDS.
TO JOHN BULL.
Clappem Kommon, Hoct. 14, 1831.
DEAR B.,--What will you Aunty-reformers say now. The parlyment is to
be berogued, and your hopes are all blyted--now my expectorations
are answerd--this is a nice two do--Fulmer, who is on your side,
sings what he calls his High Ho Pea hens, but I cant agree with him,
because Mr. Ram was a wriggler radical, and so am I, because I do
not know no better, and theerfor I redes the _Tims_, and am quite
agreable to the pinions of the Head-eater of that pepper.
I have bin to hear the debretts of the peerage--we had seets in the
House of Lauds. What a man that Hairy Broom is--what a spich he
made, and how thrusty he got--I askd what it was he was a drinking,
and they told me a Bishop--he seemd as if he could have swallowed
the See. He had the tumblers hin, ot and ot, like the stakes at his
Club--but when he went down upon his Marybones, I was quite resolved
into tiers, for feer he never coud git up agin.
Lord Grey is a fine cretur, but very grey indeed; I remember him as
Lord Howweak many years ago. I saw Lord Monster too, and the Kernel
which has the Kopper minds, who is called Lord Dinnerbell, because of
his feedin a great Duck at his ouse in Whales.
I had a not from Lord Pummicestone, to tell me he was not gone to
resign--he poots hup with a grate deal from Lord Grey and Broom,
and even from Lord Drum, when he is well enough to go to the
Cabinet--that was a purty scrap he got into about Ninnyveal, the
Ditchman; and now I heer he is another two do about the Emperor of
the Brass-heels--Lewey Flip does not like given up the Portingal
ships, and as we does everything Tallyrong thinks right, why we
must not grumble--this is Pummicestone's noose to me. If the King
of Spain helps Don M'Gill they say he will suckseed in keeping
his hone--the Spanish is all he wants to put him to rites. As for
Rooshy and Prooshy, P. says he can't say much about them, only I see
that Leaving has not left, and that Bowlow is halso here--but else
foraying affairs seems below pa.
The Bishop of Lundun did not vote agin the Bile--I herd why--his
first start in life was hoeing to a translation--he wants to try
another--this is Greek to me, Mr. B.
I think the people are just shewing their spirt--Honly think of Lord
Lunnunderry pooling out a pistole, and fritening such a manny men as
he did. They are rong to set phire to houses, and as for the Hayfair
at Knottingham Castle, it was absird hin the hextream, for to _my_
mind the surest way of raising the New Castles, is burning down the
old ones.
Our friend P. applyed to me to see and ask Fulmer to be made a pier
this time; and Lavy would like to be a Vice-countess she says--a
Barreness she would not listen to; but I did not like to say anything
to F., because Lord P. said "He was wanted to carry the Bill through
the House of Lords;"--these are P.'s hone words out of his leather to
me, and I _do_ think Fulmer was born and bred to better things than
to do porter's work at his time of life--Hif they wants "the Bill
carried through the House," why dont they imploy survunts of their
hone, without trying to disgrace onest people witch is as good as
themselves?
Pray what do they mean by sayin "whipster of a fraction," wenever
they talk of Lord John Rustle? I think it is in allusion to some
of his impotence in the Ouse of Kommons. Fulmer says that his
Ludship can't bear ironing--he sims to me to have been mangled last
Wensday--however, I'm all for Refurm, and Lord Grey, and Universal
Suffering, and Vote by Ballad. And now the Bill has been rejected,
I am ready for another hole Bill, and nothing but the Bill--and you
mark my words, Mr. B., you will be hobliged to pool in your orns
afore you have dun.
The King must be a good deal wurried, wot with wun thing and
hanuther. If I was he, I never would let Minsters hoverrule me--I
_would_ have my own whey, and hif I could not master them piecably, I
wood do as Fulmer says, "cut the Jordan knot at once, and resolve the
Parlyment."
Say somethink in your pepper, that may show me you have got
this.--Yours, still in frenchship,
D. L. RAMSBOTTOM.
P.S.--I forgot to tell you my fourth gull, Addlehead, is going to be
marred next week to Dr. Pillycooshy, of Peckham.
[Illustration:(end of section icon)]
POLITICAL SONGS AND SQUIBS.
[Illustration: THEODORE HOOK.
FROM A DRAWING MADE BY MR. EDDIS
_For the collection of Mr. Magrath, long the respected Secretary of
the Athenæum Club._]
POLITICAL SONGS AND SQUIBS.
[The following is from The Arcadian, a magazine which Hook edited and
principally wrote in 1820, and which only reached two numbers.]
CARMEN ÆSTUALE.
A SONG FOR THE SUMMER, TO BE SUNG BY J. C. H----, ESQ.,[19] NOW A
PRISONER IN HIS MAJESTY'S GAOL OF NEWGATE.
_Tune_--"Whare ha' ye bin a' the day, my boy Tammy?"
Where have ye been a' the Spring,
My boy Cammy?
Where have ye been a' the Spring,
My boy Cammy?
I have been in Newgate keep,
Doomed to dine, to drink, to sleep,
Side by side with rogue and sweep,
In dungeon dark and clammy.[20]
What took you to Newgate keep,
My boy Cammy?
What took you to Newgate keep,
My boy Cammy?
I did once my goose-quill take,
To shew a Whig a small mistake.
Did you do't for freedom's sake?
Freedom's my eye and Tammy!
What then did you do it for,
My boy Cammy?
What then did you do it for,
My boy Cammy?
Because I thought if I were sent
To jail, for libelling Parliament,
I might chance to circumvent
Next election, Lamby.[21]
How would that throw out George Lamb,
My boy Cammy?
How would that throw out George Lamb,
My boy Cammy?
Because, with tag-rag and bobtail,
Nothing does but going to jail;
We have seldom found it fail;
_Voyez vous, mon ami!_
How do you make _that_ out,
My boy Cammy?
How do you make _that_ out,
My boy Cammy?
See what all the rest have done--
Abbott, Burdett, Waddington,
Blandford, Hunt, and Wat--son,
And now, like them, here am I!
Did the Speaker talk to you,
My boy Cammy?
Did the Speaker talk to you,
My boy Cammy?
No;--my visit to Papa
Wreck'd my prospects of _éclat_;
I was never at the bar,
Where I thought they'd ha' me.
Why, then, 'tis a stupid job,
My boy Cammy?
Why, then, 'tis a stupid job,
My boy Cammy?
No;--because when I come out
They'll have a car, without a doubt,
And, in triumph, all about,
The biped beasts will draw me.
You've mistaken quite your game,
My boy Cammy;
You've mistaken quite your game,
My boy Cammy.
Of fulsome stuff, like that, we're sick,
Besides, we all see through the trick;
Before we drag, we'll see you "kick"
Before your prison, d--mme!
ASS-ASS-INATION.[22]
"Write me down an Ass."--SHAKSPEARE.
The Earl of Grosvenor is an Ass-
--erter of our freedom;
And were he Canterbury's Grace,
The Gospels in his Sovereign's face,
He'd rather throw, than read 'em.
My Lord of Grantham is an Ass-
--ailer of Black Wooler.
But, if this blustering York Hussar
Were tried in any real war,
'Tis thought he might be cooler.
Lord Enniskillen is an Ass-
--enter to Lord Grantham;
Bold, generous, noisy, swearing friends--
Till they have gain'd their private ends,
And that their patrons want 'em.
The Earl of Harewood is an Ass-
--ured help in trouble;
For, when his Lordship condescends,
Out of a scrape to help his friends,
He only makes it double.
The Earl of Morley is an Ass-
--istant to Lord Granville;
His head outside is rich in shoot;
But to beat anything into 't
I'd rather thump an anvil.
Crazy Lord Erskine is an Ass-
--ortment of all follies:
He was the first to slur the Queen;
But since his trip to Gretna Green,
He's wondrous kind to dollies.
The good Lord Kenyon is an Ass-
--uager of dissension;
With feeble voice, and maudlin eye,
He would have pray'd for infamy,
And granted sin a pension.
The Lord Ashburton is an Ass-
--iduous attender;
No voter for the Queen is stouter,
Although he knows no more about her,
Than of the Witch of Endor.
The Duke of Leinster is an Ass-
--ociate whom she flatters;
Though, by two uncles he has seen,
To hate a King, and love a Queen,
Are rather ticklish matters.
In short, each Whig Lord is an Ass-
--emblage of all merit;
And to reward their virtuous lives,
May all their daughters and their wives
The Queen's good taste inherit.
Lord Blessington's a stage-struck Ass-
--umer of Lothario;
But by his talents, wit, or grace,
(Had he but eyes to find his place,)
He's fitter for Paddy Cary O!
Lord Steward Cholmondeley is an Ass-
--imilate Polonius!
He dares not blame "the mob-led Queen,"
Though he best knows, her loves have been
What others call erroneous.
Lord Arden's an official Ass-
--ignee of naval prizes;
And, as the moon affects the seas,
His loyalty obeys his fees,
And with them falls or rises.
Lord Hampden is a twaddling Ass-
--assin of our patience;
This Guelphic Knight, so dire and thin,
Rides his white horse in the train of sin,
Like Death in the Revelations!
MICHAEL'S DINNER; OR, STAUNCH FRIENDS TO REFORM.
Fair Reform--celestial maid!
Hope of Britons!--hope of Britons!
Calls her followers to her aid;
She has fit ones!--she has fit ones!
They would brave, in danger's day,
Death to win her!--Death to win her!
If they met not by the way
Michael's dinner--Michael's dinner!
Lambton leads the patriot van;
Noble fellow--generous fellow!
Quite the dandy of the clan--
Rather yellow--rather yellow!
Of fair Liberty he tells
Tales bewitching--tales bewitching;
But they vanish, when he smells
Michael's kitchen--Michael's kitchen!
Lawyer Brougham is next in rank;
Prates like Babel--prates like Babel;
He has never eat or drank
At Bribery's table--Bribery's table;
What, then, now can stop his mouth,
In this hot age--in this hot age?
'Tis, if he would tell the truth,
Michael's potage--Michael's potage!
Hobhouse, who pretends to _νους_,
Cur of Burdett--cur of Burdett;
Fired his pop-gun, but the House
Never heard it--never heard it;
He foresaw, from Canning's lash,
Stripes too cutting--stripes too cutting,
So he sneak'd away to hash
Michael's mutton--Michael's mutton.
Where was, on that famous night,
Hume the surgeon?--Hume the surgeon?
Who pretends to set us right
By constant purging--constant purging;
No division yet expecting--
Fond of work, he--fond of work, he--
At the moment was dissecting
Michael's turkey--Michael's turkey!
Fergusson his place may choose
In the bevy--in the bevy;
He's the real Taylor's goose,
Hot and heavy--hot and heavy--
He'd out-do, with sword and flame,
Senna-cherib--Senna-cherib.
What, that evening, made him tame?
Michael's spare-rib--Michael's spare-rib.
Thus the social round they form,
In Privy-Gardens--Privy-Gardens;
And they care about Reform
Not three farthings--not three farthings.
To yawn and vote let others stay,
Who can bear it--who can bear it;
They, much wiser, drink away
Michael's claret--Michael's claret.
While ye thus, in claret, Sirs,
Lose your reason--lose your reason;
England will recover hers,
Lost last season--lost last season!
Faction's mobs--Sedition's hordes
Must grow thinner--must grow thinner,
When plain Common Sense records
Michael's dinner--Michael's dinner!
[Music: MRS. MUGGINS'S VISIT TO THE QUEEN.
TUNE--"_Have you been to Abingdon?_"
Have you been to Bran-den-burgh? Heigh, Ma'am, Ho, Ma'am?
You've been to Bran-den-burgh, Ho? Oh, yes, I have been, Ma'am, to
vi-sit the Queen, Ma'am, with the rest of the gal-lan-ty
show, show; with the rest of the gal-lan-ty show.]
And who were your company--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
Who were your company, ho?
--We happen'd to drop in,
With Gem'men from Wapping,
And Ladies from Blowbladder-Row----Row,
And Ladies from Blowbladder-Row.
What saw you at Brandenburgh,--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
What saw you at Brandenburgh, ho?
--We saw a great dame,
With a face red as flame,
And a character spotless as snow----snow,
And a character spotless as snow.
And what said her Majesty--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
What said her Majesty, ho?
--What I understood's,
She's come for our goods,
And when she has got them, she'll go----go,
And when she has got them, she'll go.
And who were attending her--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
Who were attending her, ho?
Lord Hood for a man,
For a Maid, Lady Anne,
And Alderman Wood for a beau----beau,
And Alderman Wood for a beau.
And the Alderman's family--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
The Alderman's family, ho?
--Yes--Georgy, and Kitty,
One fat--t'other pretty,
And the son who was brought up at Bow----Bow,
The son who was brought up at Bow.
And had she no Countesses--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
Had she no Countesses, ho?
--O yes!--painted Jersey,
Who might have worn kersey,
Had folks their deserts here, below----low,
Had folks their deserts here below.
And had she no other, Ma'am--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
Had she no other, Ma'am, ho?
--There was one Lady Grey,
Whose temper, they say,
Like her Lord's, is as sweet as a sloe----sloe,
Like her Lord's, is as sweet as a sloe.
Was no one from Croxteth there--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
No one from Croxteth there, ho?
--Oh, no--Lady Sefton
Would sooner have left town,
Both her and her daughters--than go----go,
Both her and her daughters--than go.
And had she no Commoners--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
Had she no Commoners, ho?
--I happen'd to look,
And could find in her book
Only Fergusson, Taylor, and Co.----Co.,
Fergusson, Taylor, and Co.
And had she no son-in-law--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
Had she no son-in-law, ho?
--Yes; time-serving Leopold,
A puppet that we uphold,
Though neither for use nor for show----show,
Neither for use nor for show.
And did they meet tenderly--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
Did they meet tenderly, ho?
--They were both so intent,
About taxes and rent,
That they never once thought of their woe----woe,
They never once thought of their woe.
And had she no Counsellors--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
Had she no Counsellors, ho?
--Yes; one Mr. Brougham,
Who sneak'd out of her room,
Pretending the Circuit to go----go,
Pretending the Circuit to go.
How fared he at Lancaster--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
How fared he at Lancaster, ho?
--They physick'd and bled,
And they blister'd his head,
And kept him uncommonly low----low,
And kept him uncommonly low.
Had she no solicitor--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
Had she no solicitor, ho?
--Yes, one Mr. Vizard,
Who, being no wizard,
She overboard hasten'd to throw----throw,
She overboard hasten'd to throw.
And has she two Chamberlains--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
Has she two Chamberlains, ho?
--Yes! both strapping fellows,
Would make a man jealous,
With whiskers as black as a crow----crow,
With whiskers as black as a crow.
And had she no beggar's brat--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
Had she no beggar's brat, ho?
--Yes, one, pale and silly,
Whom she calls Sir Billy;
But whose brat he is, I don't know----know,
But whose brat he is, I don't know.
And has she a Clergyman--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
Has she a Clergyman, ho?
--Yes, one Doctor Fellowes,
Who puffs like a bellows,
The coals of sedition to blow----blow,
The coals of sedition to blow.
And has she no General--Heigh, Ma'am, ho, Ma'am?
Has she no General, ho?
--Yes, poor prating Wilson,
Who, if he e'er kills one,
'Tis more by a word than a blow----blow,
'Tis more by a word than a blow.