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diff --git a/30056-h/30056-h.htm b/30056-h/30056-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..67d219c --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/30056-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1513 @@ + +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98 March 8, 1890 by Various</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {text-align: center;} + td {padding-left: 1em;} + td.note {text-align: left;font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: normal; border: 1px dashed; padding: 1em;} + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.medium {width: 76%;} + html>body hr.medium {margin-right: 12%; margin-left: 12%; width: 76%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */ + div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} + /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */ + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:25%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .poem1 + {margin-left:38%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem1 .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem1 p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem1 p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem1 p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem1 p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem1 p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem1 p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right; width: auto;} + .figleft {float: left; width: auto;} + + .img {margin: 0; padding-right: 0;} + .div {margin: 0; padding: 0;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + + .regards {text-align: right; margin-right: 4em;} + + .salute {text-align: left; margin-left: 2em;} + + pre {font-size: 75%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30056 ***</div> + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> + +OR, THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>VOLUME 98.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>MARCH 8, 1890.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> + +<h2>THE LONDON COUNTY COUNCIL AND THE LYCEUM THEATRE.</h2> + +<center>APPEAL OF MR. HENRY IRVING. RESULT.</center> + +<center>(<i>A not impossible Extract from Next Year's Morning Papers.</i>)</center> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/109.png"> +<img src="images/109.png" width="100%" alt="This is what the County Council's Licensing Bill" /></a> +<p>"This is what the County Council's Licensing Bill for +Places of Entertainment did <i>not</i> intend, as, according to the latest +authoritative explanation, the L. C. C. does not consider Theatres as +coming under the head of "places of entertainment". Rather hard on the +Theatres!"</p> +</div> + +<p>Yesterday, before the Theatres Committee of the London County Council, +the appeal of <span class="smcap">Mr. Henry Irving</span> (the well-known actor and manager) against +the decision of the Sub-Committee to refuse a licence to the Lyceum +Theatre, came on for hearing.</p> + +<p>After <span class="smcap">Mr. Henry Irving</span> (who appeared in person) had addressed the +Committee at some length, dwelling upon the character of the pieces he +had produced during his management, and the care and expense with which +they had been mounted, several members of the Committee expressed a wish +to put questions to him, which <span class="smcap">Mr. Irving</span> promised to answer to the best +of his ability.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Hecklebury</span>. I think you told us that <i>Hamlet</i> was one of your +favourite parts? Is it not the fact that the chief character in the play +drives his <i>fiancée</i> to madness and suicide by his cruelty, slays her +father and brother, together with his own step-father, and procures the +death of two of his school-fellows?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Irving</span> admitted that this was so. (<i>Sensation.</i>)</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Hecklebury</span>. That is all I wanted to ask you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Fussler</span>. I understand that you have produced a play called <i>Othello</i> +on more than one occasion; perhaps you will inform us whether the +following passages are in your opinion suitable for public declamation? +(Mr. <span class="smcap">Fussler</span> <i>then proceeded to read several extracts to which he +objected on account of their offensive signification</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Irving</span> protested that <span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span>, and not himself, was responsible +for such passages.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Fussler</span>. Unfortunately, <span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span> is not before us—and you are. You +admit that you have produced a play containing lines such as I have just +read? That is enough for Us.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Medlam</span>. Unless I am mistaken, the hero in <i>Othello</i> is not only a +murderer but a suicide?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Irving</span>. Undoubtedly. (<i>Sensation.</i>)</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Medlam</span>. We have heard something of a piece called <i>The Bells</i>. I +seldom attend theatres myself, except in the exercise of my public +functions, but I do happen to have seen that particular play on one +occasion. Does my memory mislead me in saying, that you committed a +brutal and savage murder in the course of the drama?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Irving</span> said that, as a matter of fact, the murder took place many +years before the curtain rose—otherwise, the Member's memory was +entirely accurate.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Medlam.</span> Whenever the murder was committed, it remains undetected, +and the criminal escapes all penalty—is not that the case?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Irving</span> urged that the Nemesis was worked out by the murderer's own +conscience.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Medlam</span> said that was all nonsense; a person's conscience could not +be made visible on the stage, and here a murderer was represented as +dying several years after his crime, in his own bedroom, respected by +all who knew him. Did <span class="smcap">Mr. Irving</span> intend to tell them that such a +spectacle was calculated to deter an intending murderer, or did he not? +That was the plain question.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Irving</span> thought that intending murderers formed so inappreciable an +element in his usual audiences, that they might safely be left out of +the calculation.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Medlam.</span> But you might have an intending murderer among your +audience, I suppose?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Irving's</span> reply was not audible in the reporters' gallery.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Parseeker.</span> I should like to hear what you have to say about +duelling, <span class="smcap">Mr. Irving</span>—I mean, is it, or is it not, a practice sanctioned +by the laws of this country?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Irving</span> said that he did not quite understand the drift of such a +question; but, since they asked him, he should say that duelling was +distinctly illegal.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Parseeker.</span> You will understand the drift of my question directly, +<span class="smcap">Mr. Irving</span>. I have made it my business to acquaint myself with your +dramatic career, and I find that you have played as hero at various +times in <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>, <i>Hamlet</i>, <i>The Corsican Brothers</i>, and <i>The +Dead Heart</i>, besides <i>Macbeth</i>. Am I wrong in saying that in each of +these pieces you fight a duel?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Irving.</span> No. I fight a duel in each of them, except <i>Macbeth</i>, in +which there is no duel, only a hand-to-hand combat. I do commit a murder +in <i>Macbeth</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">A Member.</span> <span class="smcap">Mr. Irving's</span> tastes seem rather to run in the direction of +murders. (<i>Laughter.</i>)</p> + +<p>After the report of the Official Censor upon the general tone of the +Lyceum plays during the last fifteen years had been read a second time +and adopted, the Chairman, without more than a formal consultation with +his colleagues, proceeded to announce the decision of the Committee. He +said that they had not come to their present conclusion without long and +anxious deliberation. They were now the constituted guardians of the +public morals, and must fulfil their functions without fear or favour. +(<i>Applause.</i>) They must look at the character of the performances at +each theatre, considering only whether they were or were not beneficial +to morality. In the past, under a <i>régime</i> happily now at an end, public +opinion had been shamefully lax, and official control purely nominal; +plays had been repeatedly performed, and even welcomed as classics, +which he did not hesitate to say were full of incidents that were +revolting to all well-regulated minds. <span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span>, who, with his +undoubted talents, should have known better, was, so far from being an +exception, one of the worst offenders. The Council must free themselves +from the shackles of conventional tolerance. (<i>Applause.</i>) Evil was +evil—murder was murder—coarseness was coarseness—whether treated by +<span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span> or anybody else. Nor could the Committee shut their eyes to +the fact that Mr. <span class="smcap">Irving's</span> histrionic ability, and his popularity with +those who attended his exhibitions could only intensify the injurious +effect which such representations must have upon young and +impressionable minds. In his opinion, much as he regretted having to say +so, the Lyceum was nothing less than a School of Murder. It aggravated +rather than extenuated the evil to be told, as they had been told, that +all these deeds of violence had been represented on the stage with every +aid which money, art and research could give. Again, was it desirable +that the Democracy should derive their ideas of the family life of +crowned heads from being admitted into the scandalous secrets of the +household of <i>Hamlet</i>? Or did they wish to see an injured husband +following the example of <i>Othello</i>? A thousand times no. These things +must be stopped. The Council was very far from taking a Puritanical view +of the question—(<i>applause</i>)—they fully recognised that the stage was +a necessary social evil, and, as such, must be tolerated until the +public taste was sufficiently purified to refuse it further countenance; +but, in the meantime, the Council must insure that such exhibitions as +they were prepared to sanction were of a kind consistent with the +preservation of good manners, decorum, and of the public +peace—(<i>applause</i>)—none of which conditions, in the unanimous opinion +of the Committee, was fulfilled by the class of entertainment which the +appellant <span class="smcap">Irving</span> had, by his own admission, persisted in providing. On +those grounds alone the Committee dismissed the Appeal, and declared the +Lyceum Theatre closed till further notice. He might say, however, that +they might possibly be induced, after a certain interval, to reconsider +the question, and allow the theatre to be reopened on <span class="smcap">Mr. Irving's</span> +undertaking to produce dramas of an entirely unobjectionable character +in future. (<span class="smcap">Mr. Irving</span> begged for some more definite leading as to the +dramas alluded to.) The Chairman said that he had been informed that an +illustrated periodical called <i>Punch</i> was publishing a series of Moral +Dramas, in which the sentiments and incidents were alike irreproachable. +Let <span class="smcap">Mr. Irving</span> promise to confine himself to these, and the Council would +see about it. (<span class="smcap">Mr. Irving</span> then withdrew, without, however, having given +any definite undertaking, and the Committee adjourned.)</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> + +<h4>"PUTTING HIS NOSE OUT OF JOINT."</h4> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/110.png"> +<img src="images/110.png" width="100%" alt="PUTTING HIS NOSE OUT OF JOINT." /></a> +<p><i>Engineering (to Little Tour Eiffel).</i> "<span class="smcap">Where are You, Now, my Little +Man?</span>"</p> +</div> + +<blockquote><p>"The Eiffel Tower is 1000 feet high; if the Forth Bridge were put up +on end, it would be 5280 feet in height. The tower has in its +construction 7500 tons of iron; the bridge has 53,000 tons of the +best steel. The tower was made in about six months; the bridge has +required seven years. The Eiffel Tower is a wonderful thing; but, +then, how much more wonderful is the Forth Bridge!"—<i>Illustrated +London News.</i></p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>The Bridge.</i> You took lots of beating, my sky-scraping friend,</p> +<p class="i4">But <span class="smcap">Benjamin Baker</span> has compassed <i>that</i> end;</p> +<p class="i4">I am sure Monsieur <span class="smcap">Eiffel</span> himself would allow</p> +<p class="i4">That the Bridge licks the Tower; so where are you <i>now</i>?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>The Tower.</i> <i>J'y suis et j'y reste</i>, my big friend and great rival,</p> +<p class="i4">I hope for a long and a glorious survival;</p> +<p class="i4">But don't mind admitting—all great souls are frank—</p> +<p class="i4">That you—for the present at least—take first rank</p> +<p class="i4">'Midst the mighty achievements adorning our sphere</p> +<p class="i4">Of our latest of Titans, the Great Engineer.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>The Bridge.</i> All hail, Engineering! No wonder you're proud</p> +<p class="i4">Of a work in whose honour all praises are loud;</p> +<p class="i4">No wonder 'tis opened by princes and peers</p> +<p class="i4">Amidst technical triumph and popular cheers;</p> +<p class="i4">No wonder that <span class="smcap">Benjamin Baker</span> feels glad,</p> +<p class="i4">Sir <span class="smcap">John Fowler</span> and <span class="smcap">Cooper</span> quite other than sad.</p> +<p class="i4">'Twas a very big job, 'tis a very big day,</p> +<p class="i4">And the whole country joins in the Scotchmen's Hooray!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<p>What train of thought was it that led the indefatigable <span class="smcap">Percy Fitzgerald</span> +to write, <i>The Story of Bradshaw's Guide</i>, which appears in one of the +most striking wrappers that can be seen on a railway book-stall? How +pleasant if we could obtain a real outside coat-pocket railway guide +just this size. It is a pity that the Indefatigable and Percy-vering One +did not apply to <i>Mr. Punch</i> for permission to reprint the page of +Bradshaw which appeared in <i>Mr. Punch's Bradshaw's Guide</i>, marvellously +illustrated by <span class="smcap">Bennett</span>, many years ago. This <i>magnum opus in parvo</i> is +really interesting and amusing, but if there is one thing more than +another which he who runs and reads desiderates of an author writing of +time-tables and guides, it is accuracy. Now, in one particular instance, +our <span class="smcap">Percy</span> is inaccurate. He writes: "Close on fifty years have passed +by, and the guide with every year has continued, like <i>Mr. Stiggins</i>, to +be a 'swellin' wisibly.'" The Brave Baron challenges <span class="smcap">Percy</span> to mortal +combat on this issue, defying him to prove that <i>Mr. Stiggins</i> was ever +described within the limits of <i>Pickwick</i>, as "swellin' wisibly." Will +the erudite biographer of <i>Bradshaw</i> be surprised to learn, that, in the +first place, the description "swellin' wisibly" was never applied to +<i>Mr. Stiggins</i> at all, but was used by <i>Mr. Weller</i> senior, as +illustrating the condition of a "young 'ooman on the next form but two" +from where he was sitting, who had "drank nine breakfast cups and a +half, and," he goes on to whisper to <i>Sam</i>, "<i>She's a swellin' wisibly +before my wery eyes.</i>" In the second place, the expression was employed +at a time when <i>Mr. Stiggins</i> was not present, but, in his official +character, as "a deligate from the Dorking branch of our society, +Brother <i>Stiggins</i>" was in attendance downstairs. With these two +exceptions, one mistake of omission, and one of commission, the Baron +confers his <i>imprimatur</i> on the <i>Story of Bradshaw's Guide</i>, and +recommends it to the public.</p> + +<p>For a first-rate, short, well-constructed, and sensationally interesting +story, let me recommend my readers to <i>The Peril of Richard Pardon</i>. +Only one possible objection do I see to it, and that is a matter of my +own private opinion, which is, that <i>Richard Pardon</i> is the most +irritating idiot ever created by an author. For the sake of the story, +it was necessary that he should be weak; but he is such a very +backboneless man, and yet quite strong enough to support the fabric of +the plot. Then one is cleverly put off the scent by a certain <i>Richard +Mortlock</i>, from whom the reader expects much more than ever comes out. +The sequel of this capital novelette must be <i>Richard Mortlock</i>. I have +quite forgotten to say that <i>The Peril of Richard Pardon</i> is by Mr. <span class="smcap">B. +L. Farjeon</span>, whom I have to thank for making time pass too rapidly on +many a previous occasion. The Hour Before Dinner Series—not that this +is the genuine title, but it might be, and is a suggestion—is a real +"boon and a blessing" to those who, like <i>Podgers</i>, in <span class="smcap">John +Hollingshead's</span> immortal farce, "only have a 'our," not for "their +dinner," but for their novel-reading throughout the day. <span class="smcap">Farjeon</span> <i>soit +béni!</i> (Signed) <i>The Baron de Book-Worms.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>AN EVENTFUL WEEK.</h2> + +<center>(<i>From a Prophetic Journal of Events, looming possibly somewhere +a-head.</i>)</center> + +<p><i>Monday.</i>—London, having now been without coal for sixteen weeks, and +people having kept their kitchen-fires alight by burning their banisters +and bedroom furniture, several noted West-end houses undertake to +deliver the arms and legs of drawing-room chairs ("best screened"), at +£26 5s. a ton for cash.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—All the petroleum in the country having now been exhausted +for heating purposes, and Piccadilly being, in consequence, illuminated +by a night-light in one lamp-post in every three, a "Discontented +Ratepayer" commences a correspondence in the <i>Times</i>, commenting on the +matter in a severe temper.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday.</i>—Several Colliery Owners, in despair, descend into their +own mines for the purpose of trying to raise some coal themselves, but +their <i>employés</i>, declining to assist in hauling them up again, they are +left to their fate, and nothing more is heard of them.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—A Syndicate of Noblemen determine to try for coal on the +spot, by sinking a mine in the middle of Belgrave Square, when, on +arriving at a depth of 2500 feet, they come across an active volcano, +which proves such a nuisance to the neighbourhood, that the Vestry is +applied to by several parishioners to put a stop to it. On their sending +the Sanitary Inspector to investigate the matter, he orders the mine to +be closed. On this being done, the scheme collapses, several of the +Syndicate, as a consequence, in despair emigrating to Tierra del Fuego.</p> + +<p><i>Friday.</i>—A set of studs and a drawing-room tiara of "Best Wallsend," +are shown in a window of a jeweller's in Bond Street, and attract such +crowds that the Police have to be called in to prevent a block in the +traffic, and keep the pavement clear for foot passengers.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday.</i>—Furious street riots commenced by a noble Duke in Grosvenor +Place pulling up the wood pavement in front of his house, and having it +carted rapidly into his coal-cellars. The move becoming popular, spreads +in all directions, with the result of leading to serious collisions with +the local Vestry Authorities, who call in the aid of the Police.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday.</i>—The Archbishop of <span class="smcap">Canterbury</span> preaches to an enormous +congregation in Westminster Abbey, on the "Plague of Darkness" in Egypt +by the light of a one-farthing candle. This being, by some misadventure, +inadvertently knocked over, the assembled multitude are enabled to +realise, to some extent, the gloomy horrors of the situation as +described by the reverend preacher, and, stumbling over each other, +retire to unlighted streets and fireless hearths, to face another week +of the consequences of the "Trade Problem," with the solution of which +they have been brought face to face.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>GRAND OLD BILLEE.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></h2> + +<blockquote><p>"It is stated that the captaincy of Deal Castle ... is to be offered +to Mr. <span class="smcap">Gladstone</span>, the captaincy being in the gift of the Lord Warden +of the Cinque Ports."—<i>Daily News.</i></p></blockquote> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/111.png"> +<img src="images/111.png" width="100%" alt="GRAND OLD BILLEE" /></a> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">There were three sailors of London city</p> +<p class="i2">Who found their (Party) ship at sea,</p> +<p class="i0">Although with programmes, authorised and unauthorised,</p> +<p class="i2">Most carefully they had loaded she.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">There was greedy <span class="smcap">Joe</span> and glosing <span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">And the third was named Grand Old <span class="smcap">Billee</span>;</p> +<p class="i0">And they were reduced to the piteous prospect</p> +<p class="i2">Of grubbing on one split (Party) pea.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Says greedy <span class="smcap">Joe</span> to glosing <span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">"For captaincy I am hungaree."</p> +<p class="i0">To greedy <span class="smcap">Joe</span> says glosing <span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">"Then you and I must get rid of <i>he</i>."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Says greedy <span class="smcap">Joe</span> to glosing <span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">"With one another <i>we</i> should agree.</p> +<p class="i0">With me as Captain, and you as First Mate,</p> +<p class="i2">If it wasn't for Grand Old <span class="smcap">Billee</span>."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Oh, <span class="smcap">Billee</span>, we're going to chuck you over,</p> +<p class="i2">So prepare for a bath in the Irish Sea."</p> +<p class="i0">When <span class="smcap">Bill</span> received this information,</p> +<p class="i2">His dexter optic winked he.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"First let me take an observation</p> +<p class="i2">From the main-top over the Irish Sea!"</p> +<p class="i0">"Make haste, make haste," says glosing <span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">Whilst <span class="smcap">Joe</span> he fumbled his snickersnee.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">So <span class="smcap">Billy</span> went up to the main-top-gallant mast,</p> +<p class="i2">And began to count o'er the Irish Sea;</p> +<p class="i0">And he scarce had come to eighty-six, or so,</p> +<p class="i2">When up he jumps. "Land Ho!" shouts he.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"I can see Ould Ireland! There's the Bay of Dublin;</p> +<p class="i2">With a distant glimpse of Amerikee.</p> +<p class="i0">And the Parliament upon College Green, bhoys,</p> +<p class="i2">With a right good glass I can (almost) see."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">So they went ashore, and the crew when mustered</p> +<p class="i2">Kicked Guzzling <span class="smcap">Joe</span>, and cashiered <span class="smcap">Jimmee</span>.</p> +<p class="i0">But as for Grand Old <span class="smcap">Billee</span>, they gave him</p> +<p class="i2">Of the old "Deal Castle" the captaincy!</p> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> As various versions of the popular song of <i>"Little +Billee</i>" have been set to music and sung, no apology is needed for the +insertion in these pages of the version most up to date.</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> + +<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<center>EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.</center> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Monday, February 24.</i>—"Look here, <span class="smcap">Toby</span>, M.P.," said +<span class="smcap">Arthur Balfour</span>, almost fiercely; "if you suppose that I enjoy this sort +of thing, you're quite mistaken." Hadn't supposed any such thing; +hadn't, indeed, referred to the matter. Only looked at him inquiringly, +as <span class="smcap">Attorney-General</span> for <span class="smcap">Ireland</span>, trudging stolidly through the mire, +attempted to answer <span class="smcap">Charles Russell</span>. "If I <i>am</i> Irish Secretary, as +<span class="smcap">Trevelyan</span> once said, I'm an English gentleman, and if you suppose I have +any sympathy with the sort of thing that goes on at Clongorey, you're +mistaken. But I am answerable for law and order, and law and order I +maintain."</p> + +<p>Thus <span class="smcap">Arthur</span>, quite querulous. Have noticed sometimes, when a man +hopelessly in the wrong, he is inclined to turn on his best friend and +rend him. This Clongorey business, truly, a bad one. When, just now, +<span class="smcap">Sexton</span> moved adjournment of House, in order to call attention to it, +Conservatives rose with one accord and went forth. They know <span class="smcap">Windbag +Sexton</span> of old, and thought he was probably going to favour them with one +of his usual exercises. Better this once have stopped and listened. +Interesting to see how two hundred English gentlemen would have voted +had they learned all about Clongorey. Happily less, far less, than usual +of the windbag about <span class="smcap">Sexton</span>. His story, in truth, needed no assistance +from wind instrument. Farms at Clongorey simply strips of reclaimed bog +land, on which struggling tenants had built miserable shanties; got +along in good times; just managed to keep body and soul together, and +pay the rent—rent on land they had literally created, and for huts they +had actually built. Two years ago came a flood; swamped them. Asked +landlord to make temporary reduction on rent, to tide over troublesome +times. Landlord offered a pitiful trifle. What was thought of this shown +by County Court Judge, who, on cases that came before him, permanently +reduced rent by thrice amount of temporary reduction proffered. Judge +further suggested that arrears should be wiped out. Landlord declined to +listen to suggestion. Tenants drowned out by the cruel river, dragged +out by the relentless landlord. Stood by whilst the emergency men +wrenched roofs off their huts, and set fire to the ruins. A neighbour +offered them shelter, enlarging out-buildings on her farm. Down came the +police on workmen engaged in this act of charity. A hundred police, paid +for by tax-payer, swooped down with fixed bayonets on Clongorey, +arrested labourers, handcuffed them, marched them off to police +barracks.</p> + +<p>This is the simple Story of Clongorey, reduced to facts not denied by +<span class="smcap">Balfour</span> or <span class="smcap">Attorney-General</span>, divested of all incidental matters alleged, +such as the parading of the handcuffed prisoners through the crowded +streets of the town, the police making raids among the crowd, naturally +gathered to see the sight. "One man had his eyeball burst, another his +skull broken." <span class="smcap">Charles Russell</span>, not given to exaggerated views, somewhat +reputable as a legal authority, with law-books in hand stated his +opinion that, apart from incidents of the foray, magistrates and police +were acting illegally.</p> + +<p>"Well," said <span class="smcap">Long Lawrance</span>, turning his back on House of Commons, "I'm +glad they've made me a Judge. Have ever been what is called a good +Party-man; believe in <span class="smcap">Balfour</span>; always ready to back him up with my vote; +but, dash my wig (now that I'm going to wear a full-bottomed one) if I +like voting to render possible the repetition of a business like this at +Clongorey. Must begin to cultivate a judicial frame of mind; so I'll go +for a walk on the terrace." <span class="smcap">Lawrance's</span> view evidently taken in other +quarters of Conservative camp, for, after diligent whipping up, +Ministerial majority reduced to 42. <i>Business done.</i>—Address agreed to.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—Midst a mass of Notices of Motion, a sea of troublous words, +<span class="smcap">George Trevelyan</span> drops in a score which shines forth with light of common +sense. "Why," he asks, "does not Parliament rise at beginning of July, +sitting through winter months for whatsoever longer period may be +necessary for the due transaction of public business?"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 20%"> +<a href="images/112a.png"> +<img src="images/112a.png" width="100%" alt="Spurgeon's Pulpit" /></a> +<h4>"Spurgeon's Pulpit, Ha, ha!"</h4> +</div> + +<p>Why not? On Friday, the 14th March, <span class="smcap">Trevelyan</span> will put the question in +formal way before House, so that they may vote on it. Conservative +majority may well be expected to support it. No new thing; simply +revival of older fashion. Our great grandfathers knew better than to +swelter in London through July, pass the Twelfth of August at +Westminster, and go off forlorn and jaded in the early days of +September. Hunting men may have objections to raise; but then hunting +men, though eminently respectable class, are not everybody, not even a +majority; may even be spared to go hunting as usual. <span class="smcap">Walpole</span> hunted like +anything, yet in <span class="smcap">Walpole's</span> day Parliament oftener met in November than +at any other time of year, and with due provision for Christmas +holidays, sat into early summer. The thing can be done, and ought to be +done—will be done if <span class="smcap">Trevelyan</span> sticks to it. Not nearly such a +revolution in Procedure as that which, only a couple of years ago, +established the automatic close of Debate at midnight. Who is there +would like to go back to the old order of things in this respect?</p> + +<p>Got into Committee of Supply to-night on Vote for Houses of Parliament. +<span class="smcap">Tony Lumpkin</span> turned up again. Last Session, in moment of inspiration, +<span class="smcap">Tony</span> spluttered forth a joke; likened new staircase in Westminster Hall +to <span class="smcap">Spurgeon's</span> Pulpit. It is just as like the River Thames or Finsbury +Park; but that's where the fun lies. Incongruity is the soul of wit. +Everybody laughed last Session when <span class="smcap">Tony</span>, with much gurgling, produced +this bantling; brings it out again to-night.</p> + +<p>"Can't have too much of a good thing, <span class="smcap">Toby</span>," he says, wrestling with his +exuberant shirt-front, and rubbing his hair the wrong way. "Always had +my joke, you know, down in the country. Remember the little affair of +the circuitous drive? This is what you may call my urban class of +humour. <span class="smcap">Spurgeon's</span> Pulpit, Ha, ha!"—and <span class="smcap">Tony</span> walked off delighted with +himself.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Supplementary Estimates.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—Pity that prejudice should be allowed to stand in way of +doing the best thing. Talk just now of pending vacancies on the Bench; +such talk recurrent; sometimes more talk than vacancy. "But I pass from +that," as <span class="smcap">Arthur Balfour</span> says, when gliding over knotty points of +question put from Irish Benches. If not vacancy to-morrow, sure to be +within week, or month, or year. Why not make <span class="smcap">Jemmy Lowther</span> a Judge? It +is true he has no practice at the Bar; but he was "called," and, I +believe, went. That is a detail; what we desire in our Judges are, a +certain impressive air, a striking presence, and an art of rotund +speech. <span class="smcap">James</span> has played many parts in his time—Parliamentary Secretary +to the Poor-Law Board, Under-Secretary for the Colonies, Chief Secretary +for Ireland, and Steward of the Jockey Club. In this last capacity he, a +year ago, temporarily assumed judicial functions. How well he bore +himself! with what dignity! with what awful suavity! with what +irreproachable integrity!</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 20%"> +<a href="images/112b.png"> +<img src="images/112b.png" width="100%" alt="Earl and Umbrella" /></a> +<h4>Earl and Umbrella.</h4> +</div> + +<p>That this manner is ingrained, is testified to on the occasions, too +infrequent, when <span class="smcap">Jemmy</span> rises in House. To-night <span class="smcap">Buchanan</span> asked <span class="smcap">Home +Secretary</span> a question, involving disrespect of rabbit-coursing. <span class="smcap">James</span>, +the great patron of British sport in all developments, slowly rose, and +impressively interposed. Was his Right Hon. friend, the <span class="smcap">Home Secretary</span>, +aware that rabbit-coursing, conducted under recognised and established +regulations, affords pastime to large masses of the industrious +population who are unable, from their pecuniary circumstances, to +indulge in the more expensive forms of sport? Those were <span class="smcap">Jemmy's</span> words, +each syllable deliberately enunciated. What a study for the aspirant to +Parliamentary style!</p> + +<p>Kindly Earl of <span class="smcap">Ravensworth</span>, who still haunts the Chamber in which Lord +<span class="smcap">Eslington</span> once had a place, chanced to hear this question. Delighted +with it. Wished he could introduce something of that sort in House of +Lords. Went about Lobby with his faithful umbrella (companion of his +daily life, wet or shine) murmuring the musical phrases. "Recognised and +established regulations," "afford pastime to large masses of industrious +population," "unable from pecuniary circumstances," "the more expensive +forms of sport." That all very well, but not quite all. Easy enough to +catch the trick of speech; who but <span class="smcap">Jemmy Lowther</span> can add the indefinable +personal gifts which invest even the commonplace with impressiveness?</p> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Lots. Ministers bring in Bills by the half-dozen.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 25%"> +<a href="images/113a.png"> +<img src="images/113a.png" width="100%" alt="Grand Historical Picture" /></a> +<p>Grand Historical Picture. Mr. Labouchere struggling with +his Conscience.</p> +</div> + +<p><i>Friday.</i>—Such <i>alouettes</i>! <span class="smcap">Sage of Queen Anne's Gate</span>, who can't abear +scandals, brought on alleged iniquity of Government in connection with +Cleveland Street affair. Got off his speech; <span class="smcap">Attorney-General</span> replied; +then <span class="smcap">Sage</span> proposed to offer few supplementary remarks. In course of +these appeared frank declaration of his private opinion that everything +the <span class="smcap">Markiss</span> says must be taken <i>cum grano Salis</i>-<span class="smcap">BURY</span>; only the way he +put it was much worse than that. <span class="smcap">Courtney</span> asked him to withdraw. +"Shan't!" said the <span class="smcap">Sage</span>. Then <span class="smcap">Courtney</span> named him (calling him, by the +way, "Mr. <span class="smcap">Henry Labouchere</span>.") <span class="smcap">Old Morality</span>, rising to height of duty and +occasion, moved that <span class="smcap">Sage</span> be suspended.</p> + +<p>"Oh, hang it!" cried Opposition—"can't agree to that."</p> + +<p>Divided on proposal; beaten, and <span class="smcap">Sage</span> hung up for a week. "He'll be +pretty well dried by that time," grimly muttered the <span class="smcap">Attorney-General</span>, +whom the <span class="smcap">Sage</span> had stroked the wrong way.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Vote on Account agreed to.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"A DOSE OF GREGORY."</h2> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 20%"> +<a href="images/113b.png"> +<img src="images/113b.png" width="100%" alt="The Ruffled Hare" /></a> +<p>The Ruffled Hare. "This is your umbrella!"</p> +</div> + +<p>It is some time since I have tasted a dramatic mixture so much to my +liking as Mr. <span class="smcap">Grundy's</span> Gregory's Mixture, known to the public, and +likely to be highly popular with the public too, as <i>A Pair of +Spectacles</i>. Art more refined than Mr. <span class="smcap">Hare's</span>, as <i>Benjamin Goldfinch</i> +in this piece, has not been seen on the stage for many a long day; nor, +except in <i>A Quiet Rubber</i>, do I remember Mr. <span class="smcap">Hare</span> having had anything +like this particular chance of displaying his rare skill as a genuine +comedian of the very first rank.</p> + +<p>Everyone remembers, or ought to remember, <span class="smcap">Dickens's</span> "<i>Brothers +Cheeryble</i>." Well, <i>Benjamin Goldfinch</i> has all the milk of human +kindness which characterised these philanthropic Gemini. As to moral +characteristics, he is these two single gentlemen rolled into one, while +physically, his exterior rather conjures up the picture of <i>Harold +Skimpole</i>, though his eyes beam with the youthful impetuosity of old +<i>Martin Chuzzlewit</i> when he caned <i>Pecksniff</i>. To this delightfully +guileless good Samaritan, the rough, nay brutal, <i>Uncle Gregory</i> from +Sheffield, with a heart apparently as hard as his own ware, is a +contrast most skilfully brought out by Mr. <span class="smcap">Charles Grove</span>. Though the +part of <i>Uncle Gregory</i> does not require the delicate treatment demanded +by that of <i>Goldfinch</i>, yet it might very easily be overdone; but never +once does Mr. <span class="smcap">Grove</span> overshoot the mark, although the author has +imperilled its success by too frequent repetition of a catch-phrase, "I +know that man," "I know that father," "I know that friend," and so +forth, which is sometimes on the verge of becoming wearisome. Indeed, +even now, I should be inclined to cut out at least half a dozen of these +variations of the original phrase. His short but sufficient +representation of the effects of too much lunch on <i>Uncle Gregory</i> is +masterly. So realistic, in the best sense of the word, is the +impersonation of these two characters, that one is inclined to resent +the brutality of <i>Uncle Gregory</i>, when one sees the change suddenly +effected in the sweet and sympathetic nature of <i>Benjamin Goldfinch</i>, +and when we see him suspicious of everybody, and even of his young wife, +whom he loves so dearly, we murmur, "Oh, what a noble mind is here +o'erthrown!" And, indeed, but that it is impossible to help laughing +from first to last, the final scenes of this charming piece, replete +with touches of real human nature, would send an audience away crying +with joy, to think of the possible goodness existent in the world, of +which one occasionally hears, but so seldom sees, except on the stage.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/113c.png"> +<img src="images/113c.png" width="100%" alt="Mr. Grove as Gregory the Grater" /></a> +<p>Mr. Grove as Gregory the Grater.</p> +</div> + +<p>Not a part in this piece is even indifferently played. The two young +men, Mr. <span class="smcap">Rudge Harding</span>, and Mr. <span class="smcap">Sydney Brough</span>, both very good, the +latter having better dramatic opportunities, and making the most of +them. Mr. <span class="smcap">Dodsworth</span> just the very man for <i>Friend Lorimer</i>; Mr. <span class="smcap">Cathcart</span> +is <i>Joyce</i>, the Butler; and of the two Shoemakers, respectively played +by Mr. <span class="smcap">Knight</span> and Mr. <span class="smcap">Byron</span>, I can only say, "I know those shoemakers."</p> + +<p>As for the Ladies, Miss <span class="smcap">Kate Rorke</span> looks very pretty, and acts +charmingly as young <i>Mrs. Goldfinch</i>; Miss <span class="smcap">Horlock</span> is very nice as <i>Lucy +Lorimer</i>, delivering herself of a little bit of picturesque sentiment +about feeding the birds (<i>Les Petits Oiseaux</i> is the title of the old +French piece, if I remember rightly) in a rather too forcedly ingenuous +manner, but behaving most naturally in the interrupted courtship scene, +and being generally very sympathetic. I mustn't omit Miss <span class="smcap">Hunter</span>, pink +of parlour-maids, not the conventional flirty soubrette nor the +low-comedy waiting-woman, but a self-respecting, responsible young +person, conscious of her own and her young man's moral rectitude, and +satisfied with quarter-day and the Post-Office Savings Bank.</p> + +<p>Only one single fault have I to find with the piece, and as it cannot be +entirely remedied, though it might be modified, I will mention it. The +title is a mistake; that can't be altered now: but the attempt at +illustrating the double-meaning conveyed in the title by the practical +"business" of changing the material glasses and thus hampering the actor +by the necessity of altering his expression and his manner in accordance +with his deposition or his resumption of these spectacles, seems to me +to be childish to a degree, and tends towards turning this simple tale +into a kind of fairy story, in which the spectacles play the part of a +magic potion or charm, such as Mr. <span class="smcap">W. S. Gilbert</span> would use in his +<i>Creatures of Impulse</i>, his <i>Fogarty's Fairy</i>, and his <i>Sorcerer</i>, +whenever he wishes to bring about a sudden and otherwise inexplicable +transition from one mental attitude to another, and entirely opposite. +But for the earnestness of the actors, this <i>reductio ad Fairydum</i> would +have imparted an air of unreality to the characters and incidents which +does not belong to them. The plot is a model of neat construction; and, +to everyone at all in doubt as to where to pass an agreeable evening, I +say, "Go to the Garrick Theatre." By the way, a Correspondent suggests +that <i>A Pair of Spectacles</i> is an illustration of "The Hares +Preservation Bill,"</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Jack in a Box</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">A Disclaimer.</span>—The Right Hon. Mr. <span class="smcap">Henry Chaplin</span>, M.P., Anti-muzzle-man +and Minister of Agriculture, wishes to deny explicitly that, when, by a +<i>lapsus calami</i>, he was made to describe Mr. <span class="smcap">Tay Pay O'Connor</span> as +"peeping from behind the Speaker's chair," he ever intended to fix upon +that honourable gentleman the <i>sobriquet</i> of "Peeping Tom"; nor had he +any idea of sending him to Coventry. What he <i>did</i> say was—— but it +doesn't much matter what "he <i>did</i> say," what he <i>didn't</i> say is so much +more to the point.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Stanley and African Exhibition.</span>—One of the largest contributors +will be Mr. <span class="smcap">Bonny</span>. This sounds well; at all events, it's <span class="smcap">Bonny</span>. The +French, who are now welcoming their own private African hero, <i>le +Capitaine</i> <span class="smcap">Trivier</span>, back to his native land, may be induced to place +their trophies under Mr. <span class="smcap">Bonny's</span> care, as, if Imperialists, they can +then say they have a <span class="smcap">Bonny</span>-part in this Exhibition.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">From an Indignant Correspondent.</span>—"Sir,—I sent you a joke three months +ago, which you have not used. Since then I have made arrangements for +the joke to appear elsewhere." [What a chance we have lost!—<span class="smcap">Ed.</span>]</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/114.png"> +<img src="images/114.png" width="100%" alt="INFELICITOUS QUERIES." /></a> +<h4>INFELICITOUS QUERIES.</h4> +<p><i>He.</i> "<span class="smcap">By the bye, talking of old times, do you remember that occasion +when I made such an awful Ass of myself?</span>"</p> +<p><i>She.</i> "<span class="smcap"><i>Which?</i></span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"THE BIG GUN!"</h2> + +<center><i>Grand Old Gunner loquitur:—</i></center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">'Tis a regular "Mons Meg" of a cannon!</p> +<p class="i2">The swabs, they have been every one,</p> +<p class="i0">Very hard the Grand Old (Gunner) Man on,</p> +<p class="i2">But what will they think of <i>this</i> gun?</p> +<p class="i0">Double shotted, and charged to the muzzle,</p> +<p class="i2">And trained by my hands and my eye,</p> +<p class="i0">The foes I conceive it will puzzle,</p> +<p class="i10">And tempt them to fly.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Mere skirmishing, up to the present,</p> +<p class="i2">With pop-guns, and flint-locks, and such;</p> +<p class="i0">But now! They will not find it pleasant,</p> +<p class="i2">When once this huge touch-hole I touch.</p> +<p class="i0">Mighty <span class="smcap">Cæsar</span>! I guess they won't like it;</p> +<p class="i2">Great <span class="smcap">Scott</span>! won't it just raise a din?</p> +<p class="i0">And don't they just wish they could spike it</p> +<p class="i10">Before we begin?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The fun of it is, they have furnished</p> +<p class="i2">The filling themselves, unaware.</p> +<p class="i0">The shot they've cast, polished, and burnished,</p> +<p class="i2">The powder were prompt to prepare.</p> +<p class="i0">It's pitiful, quite, their position,</p> +<p class="i2">To see, the unfortunate elves!</p> +<p class="i0">Their carefully-stored ammunition</p> +<p class="i10">Thus turned on themselves.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Their batteries big it should batter,</p> +<p class="i2">Their trenches should burst and blow up,</p> +<p class="i0">Their forces allied it should scatter,</p> +<p class="i2">It's worse than an Armstrong or Krupp.</p> +<p class="i0">Chain-shot for swift slaughter's not in it,</p> +<p class="i2">For spreading it's better than grape,</p> +<p class="i0">They'll all be smashed up in a minute,</p> +<p class="i10">Scarce one can escape.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Now, <span class="smcap">Morley</span>, my boy, and brave <span class="smcap">Parnell</span>,</p> +<p class="i2"><i>I'll</i> lay it; just follow my hand.</p> +<p class="i0">That plain will soon look like a charnel,</p> +<p class="i2">With all that remains of their band;</p> +<p class="i0">The "fragments of him called <span class="smcap">McCarty</span>"</p> +<p class="i2">(Referred to, I think, in the song)</p> +<p class="i0">Were huge chunks to the scraps that their Party</p> +<p class="i10">Will show before long.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">They shall see what I can do, when ready,</p> +<p class="i2">As Grand Old (Artillery) Man.</p> +<p class="i0">Right, <span class="smcap">Parnell</span>! left, <span class="smcap">Morley</span>! Now, steady!!!</p> +<p class="i2">Stop! Just one last peep, whilst I can!</p> +<p class="i0">I <i>do</i> hope, dear boys, there's no blunder;</p> +<p class="i2">I <i>think</i> it is loaded all right.</p> +<p class="i0">Are they horribly frightened, I wonder?</p> +<p class="i10">Well, now for a sight!!!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%"> +<a href="images/115.png"> +<img src="images/115.png" width="100%" alt="THE BIG GUN" /></a> +<h4>"THE BIG GUN!"</h4> +<p><span class="smcap">Grand Old Gunner</span> (<i>inspecting Cannon</i>). "<span class="smcap">IT'S BEAUTIFULLY LOADED! WHY, +THE MERE LOOK OF IT IS ENOUGH TO SHAKE SM-TH'S 'RESOLUTION.</span>'"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OLD FRIENDS AND COUNSEL.</h2> + +<p>Our old friend <span class="smcap">Maddison Morton's</span> <i>Box and Cox</i> runs <span class="smcap">Shakspeare's</span> works +generally very near in the matter of daily application. But fancy its +being quoted as an authority by Sir <span class="smcap">Horace Davey</span>, in his masterly reply +to t'other side in the Bishop of <span class="smcap">Lincoln's</span> case. Yet so it was. "Bishop +<span class="smcap">Cosin</span>," said Sir <span class="smcap">Horace</span>, "had erroneously assumed that a letter had been +written by <span class="smcap">Calvin</span> to <span class="smcap">Knox</span>, whereas it had been really written to an +Englishman named Cox." So it was a mistake of the postman, after all, +and it only wants the introduction of the name of Box to make the whole +thing perfect and satisfactory. "It will be within the recollection of +the Court," Sir <span class="smcap">Horace</span> might have continued, "that Cox was prevented +from becoming the husband of <span class="smcap">Penelope Anne</span>, relict of <span class="smcap">William Wiggins</span>, +Proprietor of Bathing Machines at Margate and Ramsgate, by the sudden +and totally unforeseen union of the lady in question with one <span class="smcap">Knox</span>, +whose residence, as the Musical Revised Version has it, was usually 'in +the Docks'; and with this marriage of <span class="smcap">Penelope Anne Wiggins</span> with Mr. +<span class="smcap">Knox</span> of the Docks, Messrs. <span class="smcap">Box and Cox</span> professed themselves entirely and +completely satisfied, as it is my earnest hope that Your Grace, and My +Lords the Bishops, will also be. And should this be the result, then I +assure Your Grace that there will not be a happier party sit down this +night to supper than '<span class="smcap">Read</span> and others,' of which fact you may take your +Davey."</p> + +<p>On the Learned Counsel resuming his seat, there would have been +considerable applause, which, of course, would have been instantly +suppressed.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Notes "in Globo."</span>—<i>Dorothy</i> was long ago taken off the stage of the +Prince of Wales's to make room for <i>Paul Jones</i>. But another <span class="smcap">Dorothy</span> has +recently reappeared at the Globe Theatre in the pretty Shakspearian +fairy-play entitled, <i>A Midsummer Night's Dream</i>, wherein <span class="smcap">Dorothy Dene</span> +enacts the part of <i>Hippolyta</i>. By the way, the lady who used to speak +of that immortal work, <i>Dixon's Johnsonary</i>, the other day referred to +<span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span> as being "contemporaneous with that great wit—dear me—what +was his name?—who wrote <i>Every Man in his own Humour</i>—oh, I +remember—<span class="smcap">John Benson</span>." Eminently satisfactory.</p> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> + +<h2>MY TAILOR.</h2> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 20%"> +<a href="images/117a.png"> +<img src="images/117a.png" width="100%" alt="cartoon" /></a> +</div> + +<blockquote><p>"The St. Petersburgh tailors have hit upon an effectual device for +obtaining payment of their bills. Immense black-boards are hung up +in the most conspicuous place in the reception-room; thereon are +chalked, in letters as big as arrow-headed inscriptions, the names +of their hopelessly-indebted clients, and the amount of their +indebtedness."</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author"><i>Daily Paper.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who always seemed serene and bland;</p> +<p class="i0">Who never asked for "cash in hand,"</p> +<p class="i0">Quite pleased that my account should "stand"?</p> +<p class="i10">My Tailor!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who catered for the gilded throng,</p> +<p class="i0">Who chid me when my taste was wrong,</p> +<p class="i0">Whose credit—and whose price—was long?—</p> +<p class="i10">My Tailor!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who chatted when I felt depressed,</p> +<p class="i0">Who proffered wine with friendly zest,</p> +<p class="i0">Whose weeds were ever of the best?—</p> +<p class="i10">My Tailor!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who with sartorial oil anoints</p> +<p class="i0">My vanity, who pads my joints,</p> +<p class="i0">And fortifies my weakest points?—</p> +<p class="i10">My Tailor!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">But who in future, much I fear,</p> +<p class="i0">Will greet me with no words of cheer,</p> +<p class="i0">But talk of "settling"—language queer?—</p> +<p class="i10">My Tailor!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who silently will point his hand</p> +<p class="i0">To figures white on black-board grand.</p> +<p class="i0">Where all my unpaid "items" stand?—</p> +<p class="i10">My Tailor!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who'll thus expose me to my peers,</p> +<p class="i0">Bring on me jibes, and flouts, and sneers,</p> +<p class="i0">Male sniggerings, and female tears?—</p> +<p class="i10">My Tailor!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who'll frown when I suggest a loan,</p> +<p class="i0">And ne'er produce Clicquot or Beaune,</p> +<p class="i0">But for his "checks" demand my own?—</p> +<p class="i10">My Tailor!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who'll take my "measures" when he wills,</p> +<p class="i0">But only if I take his "bills,"</p> +<p class="i0">And add one more to human ills?—</p> +<p class="i10">My Tailor!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>TAKEN AS YOU LIKE IT.</h2> + +<p class="salute"><span class="smcap">My Dear Editor,</span></p> + +<p>It was most kind of you to ask me to go to the St. James's Theatre, the +other evening, to see Mrs. <span class="smcap">Langtry</span>, after I had told you that since my +recovery from the influenza, I had unfortunately lost my memory. "Don't +you know anything about <i>As You Like It</i>?" you asked. I pondered deeply, +and then replied, that I half fancied it was a <span class="smcap">German Reed's</span> +Entertainment, that would have gone better had it included a part for +Mr. <span class="smcap">Corney Grain</span>. You told me I was wrong, but intimated that my +ignorance on the subject would make my notice the more impartial. So I +went.</p> + +<p>As to the play—was I pleased with <i>As You Like It</i>? Well, I have known +worse, but I have seen better. It seemed a mixture of prose and verse, +with several topical allusions that appeared, somehow or other, to have +lost their point. For instance, a dull dog of a jester (played in a +funereal fashion by Mr. <span class="smcap">Sugden</span>) stopped the action of the piece, for +what seemed to me (no doubt the time was actually less) some +three-quarters of an hour, while he explained the difference between the +"retort courteous" and "the reproof valiant." The plot was as thin as a +wafer, but as it is, no doubt, generally known, I need not further refer +to it. Mrs. <span class="smcap">Langtry</span> was a most graceful and pleasing <i>Rosalind</i>. She +acted with an earnestness worthy of a better cause, and afforded not a +trace of the amateur. Of Miss <span class="smcap">Violet Armbruster</span> as <i>Hymen</i>, I might say, +with a friend who spent several hours in knocking off the impromptu—</p> + +<center>TO A SEASONABLE VIOLET.</center> +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Had always Hymen</p> +<p class="i2">Such mien, such carriage,</p> +<p class="i0">You ne'er would fly, men,</p> +<p class="i2">The state of marriage!</p> +</div></div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/117b.png"> +<img src="images/117b.png" width="100%" alt="A New PieceA New Piece" /></a> +<h4>A New Piece.</h4> +</div> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Lawrence Cautley</span>, as <i>Orlando</i>, had an uphill part. At times (thanks +to the author) he appeared in situations that were absolutely +ridiculous. For instance, he leaves an old retainer (capitally played by +that soundest of sound actors, Mr. <span class="smcap">Everill</span>) dying of starvation, and, +sword in hand, appears at a pic-nic of the banished <i>Duke</i>, to demand +refreshment. "I almost die for food, and let me have it," says +<i>Orlando</i>, and is welcomed by the <i>Duke</i> to his table. And what does +<i>Orlando</i> do? Does he seize the boar's head, or something equally +attractive, and rush back to his fainting servitor with the prize? Not a +bit of it! He leisurely delivers fourteen lines of blank verse about the +"shade of melancholy boughs," "the creeping hours of time," and +"blushing, hides his sword!" In my neighbourhood happened to be one of +the greatest advocates of our generation, and I heard this legal +luminary whisper, "while that fellow is talking, the old servant will +die of starvation," and the legal luminary was entirely and absolutely +right. <i>Adam would</i> have died of starvation while his garrulous master +was posturing. A country wench called <i>Audrey</i> was admirably +impersonated by Miss <span class="smcap">Marion Lea</span>, and the remainder of the cast was, on +the whole, satisfactory. Stay, it is only just that I should single out +for special commendation Mr. <span class="smcap">Arthur Bourchier</span>, who played a character, +to whom reference was frequently made as "the melancholy <i>Jaques</i>," +faultlessly. Here again the author committed an indiscretion. <i>Jaques</i> +(by the way, why was not Mr. <span class="smcap">Sugden's</span> rôle described as, "the more +melancholy <i>Touchstone</i>?") is permitted to stop the action of the piece +to deliver some thirty lines commencing with the trite truism, "all the +world's a stage." Mr. <span class="smcap">Bourchier</span> spoke his words with excellent +discretion, but I cannot help thinking that, in the cause of Art, the +speech should have been cut out, and I have no doubt, that Mr. +<span class="smcap">Bourchier</span>, as a true artist, will cordially agree with me.</p> + +<p>And so, to quote Mrs. <span class="smcap">Langtry</span> in the Epilogue, "farewell;" but in spite +of what you have said to the contrary, I am still of opinion, my dear +Editor, that <i>As You Like It</i> must have been originally intended for Mr. +and Mrs. <span class="smcap">German Reed's</span> Entertainment, minus Mr. <span class="smcap">Corney Grain</span>.</p> + +<p class="regards">Sincerely Yours,</p> +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">A Correspondent Without a Memory</span>.</p> + +<hr /><br /> + +<center><span class="smcap">Art-Auctioneer's Religion, "Christie</span>-anity."</center><br /> + +<hr /> + +<h2>AN ASTRAL COMPLICATION.</h2> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 25%"> +<a href="images/117c.png"> +<img src="images/117c.png" width="100%" alt="cartoon" /></a> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">In periods of sleep, despair,</p> +<p class="i2">Of aberration, we have guessed</p> +<p class="i0">We were not altogether there,</p> +<p class="i2">But seldom known where was the rest.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Our Astral Bodies wander far,</p> +<p class="i2">Whenever they will not be missed.</p> +<p class="i0">Strange things in earth and heaven are</p> +<p class="i2">For the devout theosophist.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Young <span class="smcap">Wilfrid</span> wooed the wealth of <span class="smcap">Clare</span>;</p> +<p class="i2">But ah, in spite of golden dearth,</p> +<p class="i0">His mind and heart approved more fair</p> +<p class="i2"><span class="smcap">Kate's</span> intellect and moral worth.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Prudence my steps inspire!" he said;</p> +<p class="i2">And automatically to</p> +<p class="i0">The residence of <span class="smcap">Clare</span> he sped,</p> +<p class="i2">And gained an instant's interview.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Fairest," he cried, "my homage deep</p> +<p class="i2">Ah, not your rank, your wealth command!</p> +<p class="i0">These idle baubles, lady, keep.</p> +<p class="i2">Give me alone this lily hand!"</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"I will," she said. (The dinner gong</p> +<p class="i2">That moment sounded.) "Haste away;</p> +<p class="i0">But meet me in the social throng</p> +<p class="i2">To-morrow—that is, Saturday."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">That self-same hour—the clock struck eight—</p> +<p class="i2">In Holloway began to muse</p> +<p class="i0">The charming and the gifted <span class="smcap">Kate</span></p> +<p class="i2">On logarithms most abstruse.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Her door stood wide! Who entered there?</p> +<p class="i2">'Twas <span class="smcap">Wilfrid</span> spoke in hollow tone.</p> +<p class="i0">"With me life's logarithms share,</p> +<p class="i2"><span class="smcap">Kate</span>, that I cannot solve alone!"</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"I will," she answered. "But begone!</p> +<p class="i2">Strange chaperons inspect, explore.</p> +<p class="i0">The Principal, the stairs is on!"</p> +<p class="i2">He sighed, and vanished from the door.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Next eve, amid the social throng,</p> +<p class="i2">Serene stood <span class="smcap">Clare</span> at <span class="smcap">Wilfrid's</span> side;</p> +<p class="i0">And dreaming not that aught was wrong,</p> +<p class="i2">She gaily questioned and replied.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Till <span class="smcap">Wilfrid</span> suddenly was 'ware,</p> +<p class="i2">Close by, of a familiar face,</p> +<p class="i0">And realised with wild despair</p> +<p class="i2">All, all the horror of the case!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Oh, what is wrong?" cried <span class="smcap">Clare</span> in awe.</p> +<p class="i2">Calmly, he answered. "It was He,</p> +<p class="i0">My Astral Body, that she saw.</p> +<p class="i2">Oh, which am I? Oh, woe is me!"</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">East-ern Art in Bond Street.</span>—"So let the world jog along as it will, +I'll be Japanese-y still! Japanese-y, Japanese-y. I'll be Japanese-y +still!" Can't help singing when we see Mr. <span class="smcap">East's</span> pictures of Japan at +the Fine Art Society's Gallery. This clever artist sojourned in that +country from March to September. He kept his eyes open and his hand ever +busy, and has brought back more than a hundred pictures—fresh, +brilliant, and original. Such marvellous aspects of scenery, such wealth +of colour, such novelty do we behold, that we long to start off at once +to Yokohama, to Nikkô, to Hakone, to Tôkiyo, or any one of these +delightful places—singing. "Let's quit this cold climate so dull and +Britannical, And revel in sunshine and colour Japanical!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Probable Publication.</span>—Companion work to <i>Sardine and the Sardes</i>, by +the same author, to be entitled <i>Sardinia and the Sardines</i>, illustrated +in oils, and sold in tincases. Great reduction (at lunch time) on taking +a quantity.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%"> +<a href="images/118.png"> +<img src="images/118.png" width="100%" alt="THE GREAT LINCOLN TRIAL STAKES" /></a> +<h4>THE GREAT LINCOLN TRIAL STAKES AT LAMBETH.<br />(<i>As seen by +Mr. Punch's Artist in a Fog.</i>)</h4> +</div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> + +<h2>THE GREAT LINCOLN TRIAL STAKES.</h2> + +<p>Lambeth is in darkness. A Policeman with a bull's-eye prevents my +driver's energetic endeavours to drive through the Palace wall. I +stumble into the large hall known as the Library. "Here," said I to +myself, "is taking place the historic trial of the Bishop of <span class="smcap">Lincoln</span>." +The weird scene strongly resembles the Dream Trial in <i>The Bells</i>, where +the judges, counsel, and all concerned, are in a fog. Will the limelight +flash suddenly upon the chief actor, the Bishop of <span class="smcap">Lincoln</span>, as he takes +the stage and re-acts the part that has caused the trial? Archbishop +<span class="smcap">Bancroft</span> founded this library, so theatrical associations are natural. +The only lights in the long and lofty library (excepting the clerical +and legal) are a dozen or two wax candles and a few oil-lamps, but of +daylight, gaslight, or electric, nothing. I can hear the voice of <span class="smcap">Jeune</span>, +Q.C., the <span class="smcap">Jeune</span> <i>premier</i> of this ecclesiastical drama.</p> + +<p>They have commenced proceedings. In this, the Archbishop's Court, they, +very properly, begin with prayer. So does the House of Commons. "Any +special form of orison?" I ask in a whisper of the <span class="smcap">Jeune</span> <i>premier</i>, Q.C. +"Yes," he answers in a subdued tone. "Look in your prayer-book for 'form +of prayer to be used by those at sea.' That's it." Then he has to +continue his argument.</p> + +<p>At the further end of the library we have the Church, represented by an +Archbishop and five Bishops; also a Judge, in a full-bottomed wig, who +has evidently got in by mistake. Then we have the Law, represented by a +row of Q.C.'s, their juniors, and attendants; and then a chorus of +ordinary people, and common, or Thames Policemen. But where's the Bishop +of <span class="smcap">Lincoln</span>? Not among the Thames Policemen? Not in the Dock? Where? Aha! +I see him. I focus him. I sketch him. <i>Veni, vidi, vici!</i> I show result +on paper to Official. "Oh, no," he says; "that's not the Bishop, that's +<span class="smcap">Thingummy</span>," a Clerk of the Court, or something. Hang <span class="smcap">Thingummy</span>! Official +disappears. Lights, ho! a link on Lincoln! I determine to find him. The +Bishops sit round three tables, on a raised platform. The Archbishop of +<span class="smcap">Canterbury</span> sits in the centre; on his right is the mysterious Judge, in +full wig, and red robes; this is the Vicar-General, Sir <span class="smcap">James Parker +Deane</span>, Q.C.; next to him sits Assessor Dr. <span class="smcap">Atlay</span>, Bishop of <span class="smcap">Hereford</span>, +who looks anything but happy; his hair has the appearance of being +impelled by a strong draught, and his hand is to his face, as if the +draught had produced toothache. The portly Bishop of <span class="smcap">Oxford</span> is on his +right, and like the other corner man, the Bishop of <span class="smcap">Salisbury</span>, he +scribbles away at a great rate in a huge manuscript book, or roll of +foolscap. On the left of the Archbishop sits the Bishop of <span class="smcap">London</span>, who +severely questions the Counsel, and evidently relishes acting the +school-master over again. The Bishop of <span class="smcap">Rochester</span> sitting on <span class="smcap">London's</span> +left, supplies the comedy element, so far as facial expression goes; his +mouth is wide open, and he holds some papers in front of him in an +attitude which suggests that he will presently break forth into song. +But where, oh where, is the Bishop of <span class="smcap">Lincoln</span>? Ah, I see him. I sketch +him. I write his name under sketch, and show it to one of the Reporters. +He scribbles across it, "Wrong." I write, "Where is he?" He waves me +away. I believe the Bishop is at the other side of the long table, by +his Counsel. There is a candle in front of him. I make my way to the +other side. I find the Bishop is an old lady! I write, "Where does the +Bishop of <span class="smcap">Lincoln</span> sit?" on a piece of paper, and take it to an Official. +He cannot see to read it, so some time is lost while he finds a +convenient candle. He looks towards me, and points to a corner.</p> + +<p>Good! At last! There is an old gentleman, in plain clothes it is true, +but still otherwise every inch a Bishop or a Butler, or perhaps both in +one,—say Bishop <span class="smcap">Butler</span>. I have just finished a careful study of him, +when he turns round and whispers, "Please, Sir, can you tell me which is +the Bishop of <span class="smcap">Lincoln</span>?" I shake my head angrily, and move away. I'll +bide my time. <span class="smcap">Jeune</span> <i>premier</i> is answering the hundred-and-seventh +question of the Bishop of <span class="smcap">London</span>, and is being "supported" by Sir <span class="smcap">Walter +Phillimore</span>. It amuses me to hear these two clever Counsel, in this +natural and ecclesiastical fog, carrying on an animated legal +conversation with each other, ignoring the Bishops; not that the latter +seem to mind, as they scribble merrily away at their folios. Are their +Right Reverend Lordships engaged in writing their Sunday sermons?</p> + +<p>But where is <i>the</i> Bishop? He ought to be near his Counsel. The severe +Sir <span class="smcap">Horace Davey</span> sits writing letters; next to him the affable Dr. +<span class="smcap">Tristram</span>, then the rubicund Mr. <span class="smcap">Dankwerts</span>, but no Bishop. One o'clock! +The Bishops rise for Lunch and Levée. "Where, oh where! is the Bishop of +<span class="smcap">Lincoln</span>?" I ask <span class="smcap">Jeune</span> <i>premier</i>. "Quick—I want to sketch him before he +leaves!"</p> + +<p>"The Bishop!" returns the First Ecclesiastical Young Man, smiling. "Oh, +he never comes near the place." <i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Jeune</span> <i>premier</i>. I appeal to the +austere Sir <span class="smcap">Horace Davey</span>. "I can't tell you," says sir <span class="smcap">Horace</span>—"<span class="smcap">Davey</span> +<i>sum, non Œdipus</i>." And off he goes, to argue another sort of a case +about Baird language and the Pelican Club. He will say no more. On this +occasion only, <span class="smcap">Horace</span> is <span class="smcap">Tacitus</span>. I do not find the Bishop, and quit +Lambeth.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%"> +<a href="images/119.png"> +<img src="images/119.png" width="100%" alt="Confound these Blacks" /></a> +<h4>LIKELY—VERY!</h4> +<p>"<span class="smcap">Confound these Blacks! They follow me everywhere!" "Yes, my dear +Fellow; they take you for a Missionary!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE LITTLE DUC AND HIS BIG BILL.</h2> + +<p>The <i>restaurateur</i> evidently considered that he "didn't kill a pig every +day," when he stuck <i>Le Petit Duc</i> for this now historic bill, which, as +given in full by the <i>Figaro</i>, <i>Mr. Punch</i> reproduces here for general +edification:—</p> + +<div class="centered table"> +<table summary="meal bill"> +<tr><td>Un artichaut barigoule</td><td>12</td><td>fr.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Un châteaubriand</td><td>16</td><td>"</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 sole</td><td>10</td><td>"</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 noix de veau</td><td>10</td><td>"</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 homard</td><td>25</td><td>"</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 salade</td><td>3</td><td>"</td></tr> +<tr><td>1 caneton aux navets</td><td>25</td><td>"</td></tr> +<tr><td>6 écrevisses</td><td>15</td><td>"</td></tr> +<tr><td>Hors d'œuvre </td><td>5</td><td>"</td></tr> +<tr><td>Une assiette de fruits</td><td>16</td><td>"</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p>Whenever it may be the lot of any distinguished Member of the Upper +House to be sent to the Tower of London, or a Member of the Lower to be +shut up in the Clock Tower, the Provisional Government for the time +being will know what to charge for its provisions. The <i>restaurateur</i> +addressed his little account, "<i>À Sa Magesté (sic) Louis +Philippe-Robert</i> ('<span class="smcap">Robert</span>' was in it) <i>Duc d'Orléans</i>." In styling <i>Le +Petit Duc</i> "His Majesty" the artful <i>restaurateur</i> evidently had in view +a future <i>restauration</i>. The <i>restaurateur</i>, who expected to provide the +young Duke of <span class="smcap">Orleans</span> with a second dinner, of course quoted <span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span>, +and exclaimed enthusiastically—</p> + +<center> +"I must go victual Orleans forthwith!"</center> + +<p class="author"><i>Henry V., Part I., Act I., Sc. 5.</i></p> + +<p>But the youthful Duc or Duckling wasn't to be caught and stuffed a +second time.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">A Saturday Series.</span>—"Hunters' Dams" was the heading of an article in +last week's <i>Saturday Review</i>. As the counter-jumper politely says, +"What will be the next article?" We look forward with interest to +"Shooters' Swearings," "Anglers' Affirmations," "Coursers' Curses," and +a few others that may suggest themselves.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Royal Society of Painter-Etchers.</span>—At the pleasant Gallery, 5A, Pall +Mall East, is a good show of needle-work. One of the most prolific +contributors is a certain clever gentleman whose name may possibly be +familiar to some of our readers, one <span class="smcap">Rembrandt Van Rhyn</span>, who sends no +less than a hundred works.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> + +<h2>MODERN TYPES.</h2> + +<center>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Own Type-Writer.</i>)</center><br /> + +<center>No. III.—THE YOUNG M.P.</center> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/120.png"> +<img src="images/120.png" width="100%" alt="MODERN TYPES" /></a> +</div> + +<p>For the proper production of the young M.P. there are many receipts, but +only one is genuine. Take a rickety boy, and provide him with a wealthy +father, slightly flavoured with a good social position and political +tastes. Send him to a public school, having first eliminated as much +youthfulness as is compatible with continued existence. Add some +flattering masters, and a distaste for games. Season with the idea that +he is born for a great career. Let him be, if possible, verbose and +argumentative, and inclined to contradict his elders. Eliminate more +youth and transfer hot to a University. Add more verbosity, and a strong +extract of priggishness. Throw in a degree, and two speeches at the +Union. Set him to simmer for two years in a popular constituency, and +serve him up, a chattering pedant of twenty-four, at Westminster.</p> + +<p>In the course of the contest which resulted in his return to the House +of Commons, the young M.P. will have tasted the sweets of advertisement +by seeing his name constantly placarded in huge letters on coloured +posters. He will have been constantly referred to as "Our popular young +Candidate," and he will thus have become convinced that the welfare of +his country imperatively demands his immediate presence and permanent +continuance in Parliament. When the genial butcher who, besides +retailing the carcases of sheep and oxen, sits in the Town Council, and +presides over one of the local political associations, declared, as he +often has at other contests and of other candidates, that never, in the +course of his political career, had he listened to more mature wisdom, +adorned with nobler eloquence, than that which had fallen from "Our +young and popular Candidate," he was merely satisfying a burning desire +for rhetorical expansion, without any particular regard to accuracy of +statement. But the candidate himself greedily gulps that lump of +flattery, and all the praise which is the conventional sauce for every +political gander. On this he grows fat, and being, in addition, puffed +up by a very considerable conceit of his own, he eventually presents an +aspect which is not pleasing, and assumes (towards those who are not +voters in the Constituency) a manner which can scarcely be described as +modest.</p> + +<p>The majority of his Constituents regard him simply as an automatic +machine for the regular distribution of large subscriptions. He regards +himself as a being of great importance and capacity, and endowed with +the power of acting as he likes, whilst the local wirepullers look upon +him as a convenient mask, behind which they may the more effectively +carry on their own petty schemes of personal ambition.</p> + +<p>As a Candidate, moreover, the young M.P. will have discovered that the +triumph of his party depends not merely or even chiefly upon the due +exposition of those political principles with which he may have lately +crammed himself by the aid of a stray volume of <span class="smcap">Mill</span>, and a <i>Compendium +of Political History</i>, but rather upon the careful observance of local +custom and local etiquette, and the ceaseless effort to trump his +adversary's every trick. He will thus have become the President of the +local Glee Club, the Patron of a Scientific Association, and a local Dog +Show, the Vice-President of four Cricket Clubs and of five Football +Clubs, a Member of the Committee of the Hospital Ball, and of the +Society for Improving the breed of Grey Parrots; to say nothing of the +Guild for Promoting the happiness of Middle-aged Housemaids, and the +local Association for the Distribution of Penny Buns, at cheap prices, +to the deserving poor. Moreover, before he has discovered the true +relation of benefit societies to politics, he will find himself a Member +of the Odd Fellows, the Foresters, the Hearts of Oak, the Druids, and +the Loyal and Ancient Order of Free and Accepted Buffaloes, with the +right, conferred by the last-named Society, of being addressed on lodge +nights as if he were a Baronet, or, at least, a Knight.</p> + +<p>Having thus met and shaken hands with the working-man during his hours +of festive relaxation, the young M.P. will be properly qualified for +discussing those social questions which form the chief part of every +aspirant's political baggage. Being gifted with a happy power of +enunciating pompous platitudes with an air of profound conviction, and +of spreading butter churned from the speeches of his leaders on the +bread of political economy, he will be highly thought of at meetings of +political leagues of either sex, or of both combined. It is necessary +that he should catch the eye of the Speaker during his first Session. He +will afterwards talk to his Constituents of the forms of the House in +the tone of one who is familiar with mysteries, and is accustomed to +mingle on terms of equality with the great and famous. He will bring in +a Bill which an M.P. who was once young, has abandoned, and, finding his +measure blocked, will discourse with extreme bitterness of the +obstruction by which the efforts of rising political genius are +oppressed.</p> + +<p>In London Society the young M.P. may be recognised by an air of +conscious importance as of one who carries the burden of the State upon +his shoulders, and desires to impress the fact upon others. He may be +flattered by being consulted as to the secret intentions of foreign +Cabinets or the prospects of party divisions. He will then speak at +length of his leaders as "we," and will probably announce, in a voice +intended not so much for his immediate neighbours as for the thoughtless +crowd beyond, that "we shall smash them in Committee," and that +"<span class="smcap">Akers-Douglas</span>" (or <span class="smcap">Arnold Morley</span>, as the case may be) "has asked me to +answer the fellows on the other side to-morrow. I am not sure I shall +speak," the MS. of his speech being already complete. On the following +day he will speak during the dinner-hour to an audience of four, and, +having escaped being counted out, will be greatly admired by his +Constituents. He will assiduously attend all social functions, and will +not object to seeing his name in the paragraphs of Society papers. It is +not absolutely necessary that the young M.P. should be bald, but it is +essential that he should wear a frock-coat. It is well, also, that his +dress should be neat, but not ostentatiously spruce, lest the more +horny-handed of his supporters should take umbrage at an offensive +assumption of superiority over those whose votes keep him in place.</p> + +<p>Custom demands that the young M.P. should travel extensively, and that +he should enlighten his home-staying Constituents as to the designs of +Barataria, the labour question in Lilliput, and the prospects of +federation in Laputa, by means of letters addressed to the local +newspaper. He will also interview foreign potentates and statesmen, and +cause the fact to be published through the medium of <span class="smcap">Reuter</span>. On his +return, he will write a book, and deliver a lecture before the Mutual +Improvement Society of the town he represents. He will then marry, in +order that he may attend Mothers' meetings by deputy, and cause his wife +to make lavish purchases at a local bazaar, which he will have opened. +Shortly afterwards he will select an unpopular fad, which certain +members of his own party approve, and will take a vigorous stand against +it on principle, thus earning the commendation of all parties as a man +of independent views, and unswerving rectitude.</p> + +<p>If, at a subsequent election, he should chance to be rejected at the +poll, he will publicly profess that he is delighted to be relieved of an +uncongenial burden, whilst assuring his friends in private that the +country in which able and honest men are neglected must be in a very bad +way. He will, however, publish an address to the electors, in which he +will claim a moral victory, and will assure them that it will ever be +one of his proudest memories to have been connected with their +constituency. He will spend his period of retirement on the stump, and, +unless he be speedily furnished with another Constituency, will +entertain doubts as to the sanity of his party leaders. Subsequently he +will find himself again in the House of Commons, and, having been spoken +of as a young man for about a quarter of a century, will at last become +an Under-Secretary of State, and a grandfather, in the same year.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Master Singers.</span>—Sir,—In accordance with your request, I visited the +Meistersingers' Club (an institution which, seemingly from its name, has +been established as a memorial to <span class="smcap">Wagner</span>), where a "dramatic +performance" was given last week that had many points of interest to the +languid pleasure-seeker, wearily thirsting for fresh sources of +amusement. The evening's entertainment commenced with a play obligingly +described by the author as a farce, which was followed by a new and +original operetta, containing some very pretty music by Mr. <span class="smcap">Percy Reeve</span>, +with the exquisitely droll title of <i>The Crusader and the Craven</i>. The +one lady and two gentlemen who took part in this were, from a prompter's +point of view, nearly perfect. Mr. <span class="smcap">R. Hendon</span> as <i>Sir Rupert de +Malvoisie</i> (the Crusader) suggested, by his accent and gestures, that he +must have come from the East—how far East, it boots not to inquire. +Miss <span class="smcap">Florence Darley</span> was a good <i>Lady Alice</i>, and Mr. <span class="smcap">J. A. Shale</span> an +efficient "Craven." Later on an operatic performance is threatened. If +the thrilling series of arrangements on the back of the Programme is to +be accepted as authentic, the members of the Club will be invited to +have <i>Patience</i>. It would be difficult to find a more appropriate +accessory to a Night with the Meistersingers. No one asked me to have +any supper, Yours, <span class="smcap">A Hand at Clubs</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 5%"> +<a href="images/120a.gif"> +<img src="images/120a.gif" width="100%" alt="pointing finger" /></a> +</div> + +<p>NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, +whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, +will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and +Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no +exception.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30056 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/30056-h/images/109.png b/30056-h/images/109.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..05d1b97 --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/109.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/110.png b/30056-h/images/110.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..10b6565 --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/110.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/111.png b/30056-h/images/111.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..11559df --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/111.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/112a.png b/30056-h/images/112a.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..80ec9e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/112a.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/112b.png b/30056-h/images/112b.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..daf48fd --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/112b.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/113a.png b/30056-h/images/113a.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a90732a --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/113a.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/113b.png b/30056-h/images/113b.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..270eb60 --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/113b.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/113c.png b/30056-h/images/113c.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7ad61c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/113c.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/114.png b/30056-h/images/114.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd39430 --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/114.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/115.png b/30056-h/images/115.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d35c290 --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/115.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/117a.png b/30056-h/images/117a.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..af219ff --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/117a.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/117b.png b/30056-h/images/117b.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c54105a --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/117b.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/117c.png b/30056-h/images/117c.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b3f19d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/117c.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/118.png b/30056-h/images/118.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e664fd0 --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/118.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/119.png b/30056-h/images/119.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..db9ac2e --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/119.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/120.png b/30056-h/images/120.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c6eb34c --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/120.png diff --git a/30056-h/images/120a.gif b/30056-h/images/120a.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8fa6bbf --- /dev/null +++ b/30056-h/images/120a.gif |
