Mr. Punch's History of Modern England, Vol. 3 (of 4).—1874-1892Graves, Charles L. (Charles Larcom)
History
Mr. Punch's History of Modern England, Vol. 3 (of 4).—1874-1892
Graves, Charles L. (Charles Larcom)
Great Britain -- History -- Victoria, 1837-1901 -- Humor
_Punch_, in fine, exhibits through this period a progressive
acknowledgment of women's claims to be regarded as an intelligent
being, tempered by moments of reaction. In 1875 he has a picture of an
evening party at which all the men are anxious to be introduced to the
wonderful Miss Pynke, that _rara avis_ "who has never written a novel
or contributed to a magazine." In 1887 the "score" is given to the
professor in his retort to the "high-brow" lady:--
MISS HYPATIA: "Yes, now that we are gradually educating
ourselves up to your level, you Men ought at least to meet us
halfway."
THE PROFESSOR: "Meet you halfway? How? By gradually
_un_educating ourselves down to yours?"
[Sidenote: _Feline Amenities_]
In 1890, again, the amusing series of "Feline amenities" continued
for some years, though they are a tribute to the wit of women, are
invariably based on a denial of the quality of magnanimity. In this
context I am minded to include a curiosity, dating from the year
1886, in the shape of an imaginary letter signed "Elizabeth Fry
Romper," which is of interest as showing the change in the attitude of
philanthropic women during the century. The writer describes how "of
course on the hottest day of the whole summer" she was told off to take
a lot of Sunday school girls for "a day in the country" to Greenwich,
"which is supposed to have an elevating effect upon them for the rest
of the year." Of all the disagreeable things she ever has to do, this
is "far the worst." The picture given is decidedly realistic:--
It is no joke waiting for an hour at a suburban station, with eighty
"young girls"--_real_ young girls--pouring in by detachments, all in
the wildest state of excitement, and decked with the entire contents
of their jewel-cases. Of course, the first thing they did was to
rush, helter-skelter, into a wrong train, and all the railway staff
hardly sufficed to pull them out again before the train started. I
had a whole compartment to look after, and felt rather nervous at
the thought that the next one was filled with men--smoking shocking
tobacco, by the way--and that the _talk_ was distinctly _audible_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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