Punch, or The London Charivari | Page 2

by the Whitefriars

firm of BRADBURY AND EVANS, with whom as proprietors and fast
friends, Punch has ever since been happily associated.
"As early as my Fourth Volume," pursued _Mr. Punch_, "it became
obvious that, in the person of 'Our Fat Contributor,' a certain
'MICHAEL ANGELO TITMARSH' was writing and drawing for
Punch.
(Continued on Page 4.)
* * * * *
FAC-SIMILE OF FIRST PAGE OF "PUNCH."
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
_FOR THE WEEK ENDING JULY 17, 1841._
* * * * *
THE MORAL OF PUNCH.
* * * * *
As we hope, gentle public, to pass many happy hours in your society,
we think it right that you should know something of our character and
intentions. Our title, at a first glance, may have misled you into a belief
that we have no other intention than the amusement of a thoughtless
crowd, and the collection of pence. We have a higher object. Few of the
admirers of our prototype, merry Master PUNCH, have looked upon
his vagaries but as the practical outpourings of a rude and boisterous
mirth. We have considered him as a teacher of no mean pretensions,
and have, therefore, adopted him as the sponsor for our weekly sheet of
pleasant instruction. When we have seen him parading in the glories of
his motley, flourishing his baton (like our friend Jullien at Drury-lane)
in time with his own unrivalled discord, by which he seeks to win the
attention and admiration of the crowd, what visions of graver puppetry
have passed before our eyes! Golden circlets, with their adornments of
coloured and lustrous gems, have bound the brow of infamy as well as
that of honour--a mockery to both; as though virtue required a reward
beyond the fulfilment of its own high purposes, or that infamy could be
cheated into the forgetfulness of its vileness by the weight around its
temples! Gilded coaches have glided before us, in which sat men who
thought the buzz and shouts of crowds a guerdon for the toils, the
anxieties, and, too often, the peculations of a life. Our ears have rung
with the noisy frothiness of those who have bought their fellow-men as
beasts in the market-place, and found their reward in the sycophancy of

a degraded constituency, or the patronage of a venal ministry--no
matter of what creed, for party must destroy patriotism.
The noble in his robes and coronet--the beadle in his gaudy livery of
scarlet, and purple, and gold--the dignitary in the fulness of his
pomp--the demagogue in the triumph of his hollowness--these and
other visual and oral cheats by which mankind are cajoled, have passed
in review before us, conjured up by the magic wand of PUNCH.
How we envy his philosophy, when SHALLA-BA-LA, that demon
with the bell, besets him at every turn, almost teasing the sap out of him!
The moment that his tormentor quits the scene, PUNCH seems to
forget the existence of his annoyance, and, carolling the mellifluous
numbers of _Jim Crow_, or some other strain of equal beauty, makes
the most of the present, regardless of the past or future; and when
SHALLA-BA-LA renews his persecutions, PUNCH boldly faces his
enemy, and ultimately becomes the victor. All have a
SHALLA-BA-LA in some shape or other; but few, how few, the
philosophy of PUNCH!
We are afraid our prototype is no favourite with the ladies. PUNCH is
(and we reluctantly admit the fact) a Malthusian in principle, and
somewhat of a domestic tyrant; for his conduct is at times harsh and
ungentlemanly to Mrs. P.
"Eve of a land that still is Paradise, Italian beauty!"
But as we never look for perfection in human nature, it is too much to
expect it in wood. We wish it to be understood that we repudiate such
principles and conduct. We have a Judy of our own, and a little
Punchininny that commits innumerable improprieties; but we fearlessly
aver that we never threw him out of window, nor belaboured the lady
with a stick--even of the size allowed by law.
There is one portion of the drama we wish was omitted, for it always
saddens us--we allude to the prison scene. PUNCH, it is true, sings in
durance, but we hear the ring of the bars mingling with the song. We
are advocates for the correction of offenders; but how many generous
and kindly beings are there pining within the walls of a prison, whose
only crimes are poverty and misfortune! They, too, sing and laugh, and
appear jocund, but the heart can ever hear the ring of the bars.
We never looked upon a lark in a cage, and heard him trilling out his
music as he sprang upwards to the roof of his prison, but we felt

sickened with the sight and sound,