Mr. Punch at the Seaside by J. A. Hammerton (best historical biographies txt) 📕

One of the leading characteristics of the nineteenth century was the tremendous change effected in the social life of Great Britain by the development of cheap railway travel. The annual holiday at the seaside speedily became as inevitable a part of the year's progress as the milkman's morning call is of the day's routine. What at first had been a rare and memorable event in a life-time developed into a habit, to which, with our British love for conventions, all of us conform.

Whether or not our French critics are justified in saying that we Britishers take our pleasures sadly, these pages from the seaside chronicles of Mr. Punch will bear witness, and while at times they may seem to support the case of our critics, at others the evidence is eloquent against them. This at least is certain, that whatever the temperament of the British as displayed during the holiday season at our popular resorts, the point of view of our national jester, Mr. Punch, is unfailingly humorous, and such sadness as some of our countrymen may bring to their pleasures is but food for the mirth of merry Mr. Punch, who, we[Pg 6] are persuaded, stands for the sum total of John Bull's good humour in his outlook on the life of his countrymen.

As the real abstract and brief chronicler of our time, Mr. Punch has mirrored in little the social history of the last sixty-five years, and apart from the genuine entertainment which this book presents, it is scarcely less instructive as a pictorial history of British manners during this period. One may here follow in the vivid sketches of the master-draughtsmen of the age the ceaseless and bewildering changes of fashion—the passing of the crinoline, the coming and going of the bustle, the chignon, and similar vanities, and the evolution of the present-day styles of dress both of men and women.

It is also curious to notice how little seaside customs, amusements, troubles and delights, have varied in the last half-century. Landladies are at the end what they were at the beginning; the same old type of bathing-machine is still in use; our forefathers and their womenfolk in the days when Mr. Punch was young behaved themselves by "the silver sea" just as their children's children do to-day. Nothing has changed, except that the most select of seaside places is no longer so select as it was in the pre-railway days, and that the wealthier classes, preferring the attractions of Continental resorts, are less in evidence at our own watering-places.

The motto of this little work, as of all those in the series to which it belongs, is "Our true intent is all for your delight", but if the book carry with it some measure of instruction, we trust that may not be the less to its credit.

[Pg 7]

A FASHIONABLE WATERING PLACE

Mrs. Dorset (of "Dorset's Sugar and Butter Stores",
Mile End Road). "Why on earth can't we go to a more
dressy place than this, 'Enery?
I'm sick of this dreary 'ole, year after year.
It's nothing but sand and water, sand and water!"

Mr. Dorset. "If it wasn't for sand and water,
you wouldn't get no 'olerday."

Seaside Mem.—The Society recently started to abolish Tied-houses will not include Bathing Machines within the scope of its operations.

[Pg 8]

BIDDY-FORD "WHERE'S RAMSGATE?"

[Mr. Justice Hawkins. Where is Ramsgate?
Mr. Dickens. It is in Thanet, your lordship.
Report of Twyman v. Bligh.]

"Where's Ramsgate?" Justice Hawkins cried.

"Where on our earthly planet?"

The learned Dickens straight replied,

"'Tis in the Isle of Thanet.

"Ramsgate is where the purest air

Will make your head or leg well,

Will jaded appetite repair,

With the shrimp cure of Pegwell.

"Where's Ramsgate? It is near the place

Where Julius C�sar waded,

And nearer still to where his Grace

Augustine come one day did.

"All barristers should Ramsgate know:

I speak of it with pleasure",

Quoth Dickens. "There I often go

When wanting a refresher.

"Where's Ramsgate? Where I've often seen.

Both S-mb-rne and Du M-r-er,

When I have gone by 3.15

Granville Express, Victorier.

[Pg 9]

"With Thanet Harriers, when you are

Well mounted on a pony,

You'll say, for health who'd go so far

As Cannes, Nice, or Mentone?

"With Poland, of the Treasury,

Recorder eke of Dover,

I oft go down for pleasurey.

Alack! 'tis too soon over!

"O'er Thanet's Isle where'er you trudge,

My Lud, you'll find no land which——"

"Dickens take Ramsgate!" quote the Judge.

"Luncheon! I'm off to Sandwich!"

A JUDGE BY APPEARANCE

Bathing Guide. "Bless 'is 'art! I know'd he'd take to it kindly—by the werry looks on 'im!"

[Pg 10]

THE WONDERS OF THE SEA-SHORE

Contributed by "Glaucus", who is staying at a quiet watering-place, five miles from anywhere, and three miles from a Railway Station.

Monday(?) after breakfast, lying on the beach.

Wonder if it is Monday, or Tuesday?

Wonder what time it is?

Wonder if it will be a fine day?

Wonder what I shall do if it is? On second thoughts, wonder what I shall do if it isn't?

Wonder if there are any letters?

[Pg 12]

Wonder who that is in a white petticoat with her hair down?

Wonder if she came yesterday or the day before?

Wonder if she's pretty?

Wonder what I've been thinking about the last ten minutes?

Wonder how the boatmen here make a livelihood by lying all day at full length on the beach?

Wonder why every one who sits on the shore throws pebbles into the sea?

Wonder what there is for dinner?

Wonder what I shall do all the afternoon?

Same day, after lunch, lying on the beach.

Wonder who in the house beside myself is partial to my dry sherry?

Wonder what there is for dinner?

Wonder what's in the paper to-day?

Wonder if it's hot in London? Should say it was.

Wonder how I ever could live in London?

Wonder if there's any news from America?

Wonder what tooral looral means in a chorus?[Pg 14]

Children playing near me, pretty, very?

Wonder if that little boy intended to hit me on the nose with a stone?

Wonder if he's going to do it again? Hope not.

Wonder if I should like to be a shrimp?

Same day, after an early dinner, lying on the beach.

Wonder why I can never get any fish?

Wonder why my landlady introduces cinders into the gravy?

EXMOUTH

Wonder more than ever who there is at my lodgings so partial to my dry sherry?

Wonder if that's the coast of France in the distance?

Feel inclined for a quiet conversation with my fellow-man.

A boatman approaches. I wonder (to the boatman) if it will be a fine day tomorrow? He wonders too? We both wonder together?

Wonder (again to the boatman) if the rail will make much difference to the place? He shakes his head and says "Ah! he wonders!" and leaves me.

Wonder what age I was last birthday? [Pg 16]

Wonder if police inspectors are as a rule fond of bathing?

Wonder what gave me that idea?

Wonder what I shall do all this evening?

Same day, after supper, Moonlight, lying on the beach.

A HIGH SEA OVER THE BAR

Wonder if there ever was such a creature as a mermaid?

Wonder several times more than ever who it is that's so fond of my dry sherry?

Wonder if the Pope can swim?

Wonder what made me think of that?

Wonder if I should like to go up in a balloon?

Wonder what Speke and Grant had for dinner to-day?

Wonder if the Zoological Gardens are open at sunrise?

Wonder what I shall do to-morrow?

Fruit to be Avoided by Bathers.—Currants.

[Pg 11]

DEA EX MACHIN�!

(A Reminiscence)

[Pg 13]

SHOPPING

Lady (at Seaside "Emporium"). "How much are those—ah—improvers?"

Shopman. "Improv—hem!—They're not, ma'am"—(confused)—"not—not the article you require, ma'am. They're fencing-masks, ma'am!"

[Tableau!

[Pg 15]

A LARGE BUMP OF CAUTION

Flora. "Oh, let us sit here, aunt, the breeze is so delightful."

Aunt. "Yes—it's very nice, I dare say; but I won't come any nearer to the cliff, for I am always afraid of slipping through those railings!"

[Pg 17]

A BOAT FOR AN HOUR

Stout Gentleman. "What! is that the only boat you have in?"

[Pg 18]

A SEASIDE REVERIE

I think, as I sit at my ease on the shingle,

And list to the musical voice of the Sea,

How gaily my Landlady always will mingle

From my little caddy her matutine tea.

And vainly the bitter remembrance I banish

Of mutton just eaten, my heart is full sore,

To think after one cut it's certain to vanish,

And never be seen on my board any more.

Some small store of spirit to moisten my throttle

I keep, and indulge in it once in a way;

But, bless you, it seems to fly out of the bottle

And swiftly decrease, though untouched all the day.

My sugar and sardines, my bread and my butter,

Are eaten, and vainly I fret and I frown;

My Landlady, just like an �sthete's too utter

A fraud, and I vow that I'll go back to Town.

[Pg 19]

THE MORNING PAPERS

Sketch from our window, 10 a.m., at Sludgeborough Ness.

[Pg 20]

THE NURSEMAID'S FRIEND

Science has given us the baby-jumper, by which we are enabled to carry out the common exclamation of

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