AUTUMNAL PROMOTIONS.
As the Autumn advances, certain promotions always take place, which we never notice at any other period of the year. We beg to record the following amongst those which have recently occurred:—
Mr. Jones, the veteran ballad-singer between the acts at the Pavilion Theatre, promoted into Signor Jonesi, "the celebrated tenor from Her Majesty's Theatre," who is now delighting the gay habitués of the different Libraries at Ramsgate, Margate, &c.
Miss Rowe, whose favourite song of "Will you buy my Oysters, Sir?" has been sung no less than 300 times at the Grecian Saloon, promoted into "Madlle. Roewe, the celebrated cantatrice, from the Nobilities' Concerts," who is nightly encored tumultuously at the different "Fairy Scenes" that at this time of the year generally enliven Gravesend about tea-time, and make of it quite a Fairy Home.
Mr. O'Mulligan, the celebrated Owl in Der Freischütz, at the Surrey, into Herr Meulin, "the popular Shakspearian Clown from Astley's," who is now tumbling his way through the provinces to the especial Shakspearian delight of the visitors of Mr. Flick's "unrivalled troupe, and quadruple equestrian company."
Mr. Rodgers, the forty-third pupil of Mrs. Searle, and principal waterer of the stage at Covent Garden, promoted at Brighton into "Monsieur Roger, the admired teacher of dancing and calisthenics at Almacks'."
Mr. Niggers, acknowledged to be the greatest villain that ever appeared at the City of London and Queen's Theatres, promoted, for a six months' engagement at Leamington, into "Mr. Stanley Smith, the leading light comedian of the Lyceum Theatre, under the tasteful management of Madame Vestris."
Mr. Brown, the rich grocer of Finsbury Square, promoted, for the short time he is travelling in France and Italy, into Milor Brown.
Ensign Harrison, who has just received his commission in the "Bucks Invincibles," promoted, during his stay at Baden-Baden, to the Captaincy of a crack regiment in Her Majesty's line.
Mrs. Sutherland, the stock-broker's wife, of Dalston, who is at present stopping at Ems with her seven unmarried daughters, promoted by the landlord and waiters of the Hotel, where she is stopping, into Lady Sutherland, and the promotion gazetted accordingly in all the Journaux and Zeitungen of the place. N.B. The promotion is not in the least denied by Mrs. Sutherland, until she is presented with 'the small amount' of Her Ladyship's bill, when she is very indignant "at the idea of being taken for a Lady."
There are several other promotions that generally take place during the Autumn by persons who are travelling. Shopmen aspire to the rank of gentlemen; young gentlemen give themselves the air and pretensions of noblemen; and ladies do not mind to what high rank they may be promoted, knowing well enough they must sink down again to the plain Mrs., the moment they return to Baker Street. But it is otherwise with the gentlemen, who, it is notorious, are more easily led away by the vanities of this world than the ladies; thus, you will meet with swarms of Rentiers in the shape of young gentlemen who have scarcely got sufficient to pay the expenses of their journey home; with innumerable Hommes de Lettres, who have never had anything to do with them, beyond writing a letter occasionally, signed "A Father of a Family," or "A Constant Reader," to the Editor of the Times; with railways-full of artistes, who, if the truth were known, are only hair-cutters, or else the drawing-masters of some suburban girl's-school; and with no small quantity of Banquiers, whom, if you could see them only in their counting-houses at home, you would find, probably, behind the trellis-work of a suspicious Betting-Shop, or else secreted in a dark back-parlour, with some six other Banquiers, at the head of a "Mutual Loan and Investment Office"—for the benefit, of course, of the "Poor Man" and not at all of themselves.
Beware, especially at the sea-side, and on your travels, of all Autumnal Promotions.
THE ENGLISH HIPPOPOTAMUS, AT THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS, TO THE FRENCH DITTO, AT THE "JARDIN DES PLANTES."
"Mon cher Hip.,—I have been reading the account of your glorious reception at Paris. Don't you allow your simple head to be turned by the homage you have been receiving. Look at me, and profit by the ridiculous lesson.
"But a short time ago I was as great a favourite as you now are. I was run after worse than a Nepaulese Ambassador—though what little lustre there was about me was all my own—not a single diamond shone in my ears! and my nose (at present so snubbed) was unconscious of the smallest precious stone! No valuable Cachemire was coiled round my head, that, in a moment of admiration, I could unroll and lay at the feet of my fair worshippers. What little merit I possessed consisted in my native ugliness; and though I flatter myself I am as ugly now as I was then, still no one runs after me now.
"As it was with me so it will be with you. My word for it, your nose will be similarly put out of joint by M. Dupin, or some other monstrosity. I was the rage, the fashionable lion of the day. Thousands of ladies tore their dresses, and fought with their parasols, to get a passing peep at me. They called me 'dear,' 'duck,' 'pet,' and other fond terms of female endearment; and much they care about me at present! Casts were made of me in sponge-cake, and adorned the pastrycooks' windows. You saw my portrait in the frontispiece of every polka. No periodical was complete without my biography, whilst my bulky proportions were multiplied in a thousand different shapes, either in snuff-boxes, ink-stands, salt-cellars, butter-boats, or else figured on ladies' brooches. And where, I ask, am I now? I hide myself in the mud of my bath, with shame and indignation, when I think of the base ingratitude of the public.
"I cannot believe you are any uglier than I was. I will not pay you so egregious a compliment. I will say you possess the same bountiful share of recommendations. In that case I beseech you, mon cher animal, not to allow your brain to be affected by the popular incense that at present is being burnt under your admired nostrils. It is ever the fickle taste of Fashion to forget to-morrow the idols it is worshipping to-day. Believe me, and I speak as one who is both a hippopotamus and a brother, you will be as little run after, as little cared about this time next year, as I now am. At present you are un charmant hippopotame, the fêted curiosity of the moment; wait another twelvemonth, and they will say of you, as they do of me, that you are nothing better than a great pig, or, worse still, they will call you probably, in their insulting vernacular, 'un gros cochon'. Ponder, be wise, and don't grow too conceited.
"Such is the affectionate advice of
"Mon cher Hip, your old camarade du Nil,
The Hippopotamus (of the Zoological Gardens).
"P.S. Will you believe it, the fashionable world is now running, 'like mad,' after two little monkeys they call Aztecs? The ladies actually kiss them! It makes one sick merely to think of it."