Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, December 10, 1887

In Short

This issue of Punch, published in December 1887, is an illustrated weekly miscellany of political satire, light verse, parodies, and cultural reviews. Through fictional letters, comic poems, and dramatic sketches, the writers send up prominent figures like the Radical-turned-Unionist MP John Bright, the Irish politician William O'Brien, and the craze for cryptographic theories about Shakespeare. Operating under the persona of the all-knowing editor Mr. Punch, the magazine skewers the political posturing, theatrical trends, and publishing frenzies of its day, leaving a permanent record of late Victorian humor and social anxiety.

The Story

The issue opens in the political arena with a satirical monologue in the form of a letter to Toby, M.P. The letter is written from One Ash, Rochdale, by the veteran statesman John Bright—dubbed the "Rochdale Rasper"—who self-righteously justifies his shift from radicalism to an alliance with the Conservatives. He points to his home's name as proof that he was always right, insisting that he remains unchanged while the rest of the political world has foolishly drifted away from him.

From political hypocrisy, the issue turns to the impending holiday season in "The Babes in the Christmas Wood." In this publishers' cantata, major London publishing houses, personified as forest trees shedding their leaves, sing verse descriptions of their newest books, picture albums, and illustrated annuals for children. A companion verse piece surveys the overwhelming deluge of holiday greeting cards from prominent designers and printers, turning commercial publishing into a playful spectacle.

The perspective then shifts to small-scale social satire in "Our Debating Club," which chronicles the earnest but absurd discussions of the Gargoyle Club. The reporter exposes the eccentricities of its members as they debate whether science or art has benefited humanity more. Gaspard Hartupp delivers a grandiose peroration before turning to his glass of spirits, the shortsighted Naylor fumbles hopelessly with his inverted notes while trying to defend Shakespeare and music, and old Kirkstone interrupts the proceedings with an anecdote about a steam-plough that he cannot finish due to his own uncontrollable laughter.

National politics reasserts itself in the poetic satire "On the Wrong Scent," where a frustrated Conservative hunt master berates his young, undisciplined hounds—representing unruly politicians—for abandoning the main quarry to chase false trails. Soon after, the magazine wittily wades into the Irish Home Rule crisis with "O'Brien's Breeches," a ballad mocking the imprisonment of Irish nationalist William O'Brien and his refusal to wear standard prison clothing after guards confiscate his pants.

The literary world receives equal structural weight in a sequence of satirical letters titled "A Disputed Will," which parodies Ignatius Donnelly's real-world claims that Francis Bacon wrote Shakespeare's plays. Letter-writers from Colney Hatch asylum and across Britain propose increasingly outlandish mathematical formulas and textual theories, claiming that Negretti and Zambra wrote Milton, or that Queen Elizabeth physically attacked historians with a crutch.

Finally, the magazine considers national security and culture. A two-part futuristic sketch titled "The Future Position of the Army" depicts Mr. Punch stepping in to save Great Britain from military panic by requisitioning civilian omnibus horses, drafting store clerks into the Volunteers, and deploying an army of foreign laborers. The issue concludes in "Our Booking-Office," where the Baron de Book-Worms offers genial reviews of Oscar Wilde’s Woman's World magazine and contemporary theatrical productions, before closing with Punch's firm, unyielding notice that rejected contributions will never be returned.

How It Unfolds

A statesman justifies himself John Bright writes to Toby, M.P., boasting of his unshakeable consistency despite his new alliance with Conservatives, claiming his home name "One Ash" predicted his belief in one empire and one parliament.

Publishers sing their wares A chorus of publishing houses and cardsmiths perform a holiday cantata, hawking their latest illustrated children's books, annuals, and artistic Christmas cards in light, rhyming verse.

The Gargoyle Club debates Members of a local debating society deliver chaotic speeches on art versus science, collapsing into fumbled notes, half-remembered arguments, and wheezing laughter over irrelevant anecdotes.

The political pack strays A Tory hunt master berates his young, rebellious hounds in verse, warning them that chasing herring trails and false scents will demoralize the pack and ruin the hunt.

A nationalist keeps his bed A mock-heroic ballad recounts how imprisoned Irish MP William O'Brien stubbornly remains under his bedclothes rather than wear the official prison garb offered after his own trousers are confiscated.

Cryptograms ruin literature A series of absurd letters parodies the Baconian theory of Shakespeare, proposing ludicrous mathematical schemes to prove that Bacon, Martin Luther, or optical instrument makers wrote world literature.

Mr. Punch saves the nation A visionary military sketch shows Mr. Punch restructuring the British Army by commandeering omnibus horses, drafting shop workers, and outmaneuvering foreign adversaries without firing a shot.

The People

• Mr. Punch

The fictional editor, master strategist, and grand director of the magazine. He offers sage advice to political leaders, solves national defense crises, and surveys the cultural scene with sharp, patronizing wit.

• John Bright

A real-life Radical politician portrayed here as a crusty, supremely self-satisfied elder statesman. He desires to maintain his reputation for absolute rectitude, brushing off accusations of hypocrisy with the self-serving motto "John Bright is always right."

• Naylor

A shortsighted and inept member of the Gargoyle Debating Club. He wants to systematically refute every previous speaker's argument, but his own fumbled, upside-down notes and poor memory leave him stammering in complete confusion.

• Kirkstone

A genial member of the Gargoyle Club who wants to delight his peers with a perfectly chosen, funny story about a farmer's daughter and a steam-plough. His keen appreciation of his own humor causes him to break down into helpless chuckles, rendering his story entirely incomprehensible.

• William O'Brien

An Irish nationalist politician depicted in a popular satirical ballad. Imprisoned and stripped of his pants by gaolers aiming to force him into convict clothes, he stubbornly refuses to yield, choosing to remain in bed without his breeches to defend his political principles.

In Its Own Voice

"I am the same to-day as yesterday, or as these fifty years past. 'J-HN BR-GHT, always right,' and any change of relationship or appearance is due to the ineradicable error and fatal foolishness of others."

(John Bright defends his political realignments in a fictional letter to Toby, M.P.)

"There was a lot of other things I meant to say, but I'm afraid I don't quite remember them at this moment."

(The shortsighted Naylor surrenders his chaotic speech to the Gargoyle Debating Club.)

"The captive of the cold complains, / His breechless bones it reaches. / But yield? No, rather he remains / In bed--without his breeches!"

(The narrative ballad describes Irish politician William O'Brien's resistance in prison.)

What It's Really About

Underneath its playful parodies and light rhyming verse, this volume reflects late Victorian anxieties about political stability, national defense, and cultural decline. The issue repeatedly returns to the shifting alliances surrounding Irish Home Rule and the factional splits within British political parties. Through its satires on military unpreparedness and absurd literary controversies, the text mocks the era's obsession with conspiracy theories, media sensationalism, and theatrical melodrama. It argues for moderation, practical common sense, and steady leadership in the face of political hysteria. By reducing grand Parliamentary debates and social panics to ridiculous domestic scenes—a politician without his trousers, a club member choked on his own laughter—it demystifies the powerful and restores a sense of proportion to public life.

Why Read It Today

Modern readers interested in Victorian social history, media culture, or political satire will find this issue a vibrant time capsule. Reading it feels like flipping through a nineteenth-century television guide or social media feed: brief, punchy, and relentless in its reference to current events. The text moves at a rapid pace, bouncing from light opera parodies and theatrical gossip to sharp editorial cartoons in verse.

However, readers should prepare for certain entry barriers. The prose relies heavily on mid-Victorian political context, requiring some familiarity with figures like Lord Salisbury, Arthur Balfour, and the Irish Home Rule movement. Furthermore, the humor frequently employs nineteenth-century slang, punning, and specific cultural shorthand—such as redacted names like "J-HN BR-GHT" or references to long-forgotten theatrical productions—that can feel opaque without historical curiosity. For those willing to navigate these period details, the issue offers a delightfully dry, unvarnished look at how late Victorians laughed at themselves, proving that political grandstanding, literary crankery, and media hype are hardly inventions of the modern age.