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diff --git a/35666-h/35666-h.htm b/35666-h/35666-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..37cc759 --- /dev/null +++ b/35666-h/35666-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2085 @@ +<!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=iso-8859-1" /> + + <title>Punch, 15th July, 1893.</title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + .ind {margin-left: 2em;} + .ind1 {margin-left: 5em; margin-right: 5em;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + .sans {font-family: sans-serif;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {text-align: center;} + span.outdent {text-align: left; margin-left: -2em;} + span.outdent1 {text-align: left; margin-left: -1em;} + td.note {text-align: left; font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: normal; border: 1px dashed; padding: 1em;} + ul.none {font-size: 1.0em; margin-left: 10%; list-style-type: none;} + 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%;} + ins {text-decoration: none; border-bottom: dashed 1px silver;} + .note {margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; 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.i22 {margin-left: 11em;} + + .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;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + a.footnote:link {color: #3366ff; background: inherit; font-size: 1.2em; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;} + a.footnote:visited {color: #cc00cc; background: inherit; font-size: 1.2em; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;} + a.footnote:hover {color: #ff0000; background: inherit; text-decoration: none;} + a.footnote:active {color: #00ffcc; background: inherit; text-decoration: underline;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 105, +July 15th 1893, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 105, July 15th 1893 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Sir Francis Burnand + +Release Date: March 24, 2011 [EBook #35666] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON *** + + + + +Produced by Lesley Halamek, Malcolm Farmer and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" id="page13"></a>[pg 13]</span> +<h1>Punch, or the London Charivari</h1> + +<h2>Volume 105, July 15TH 1893</h2> + +<h3><i>edited by Sir Francis Burnand</i></h3> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2 class="sans">AN AFTERNOON PARTY.</h2> + +<p> ... "The room is full of celebrities. Do you see that tall woman +in black, talking to the little old lady? That is Mrs. <span class="sc">Arbuthnot</span>—a +woman of some importance—and the other is <span class="sc">Charley's</span> Aunt. +The sporting-looking young man is Captain <span class="sc">Coddington</span>, who is +'in town' for the season."</p> + +<p>"And who are the two men, exactly alike, tall and dark, who are +smoking gold-tipped cigarettes, and talking epigrams?" I asked. +I like to know who people are, and the person in the silver domino +seemed well-informed.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"><a href="images/013-600.png"><img src="images/013-300.png" width="300" height="444" alt="'The uninvitable in pursuit of the indigestible,' murmured Lord Illingworth." border="0" /></a> +<p class="center">"The uninvitable in pursuit of the indigestible," murmured Lord Illingworth.</p></div> + +<p>"Those are Lord <span class="sc">Illingworth</span>, and Lord <span class="sc">Henry Wotton</span>. +They always say exactly the same things. They are awfully +clever, and cynical. Those two ladies talking together are known +as <span class="sc">Nora</span> and <span class="sc">Dora</span>. There's rather a +curious story about each of them."</p> + +<p>"There seems to be one about +everyone here," I said.</p> + +<p>"Well, it seems that <span class="sc">Nora</span> and her +husband did not get on very well. He +thought skirt-dancing morbid. Also, +he forgave her for forging his name—in +type-writing—to a letter refusing +to subscribe to a wedding-present for +Princess <span class="sc">May</span>. She said a man who +would forgive a thing like that would +forgive anything. So she left the +Dolls' House."</p> + +<p>"Quite right. Is that not the +Comtesse <span class="sc">Zicka</span>? I seem to recognise +the scent."</p> + +<p>"It is—and the beautiful Italian +lady is Madame <span class="sc">Santuzza</span>. One meets +all sorts of people here, you know; +by the way, there's Mrs. <span class="sc">Tanqueray</span>."</p> + +<p>"Princess <span class="sc">Salomé</span>!" announced +the servant. A little murmur of surprise +seemed to go round the room as +the lovely Princess entered.</p> + +<p>"What <i>has</i> she got on?" asked +<span class="sc">Portia</span>.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's nothing," replied Mr. +<span class="sc">Walker</span>, London.</p> + +<p>"I thought she was not received in +English society," said Lady <span class="sc">Windermere</span>, +puritanically.</p> + +<p>"I can assure you, my dears, that +she would not be tolerated in Brazil, +where the nuts come from," exclaimed +<span class="sc">Charley's</span> Aunt.</p> + +<p>"There's no harm in her. She's +only a little peculiar. She is particularly +fond of boar's head. It's nothing," +said Mr. <span class="sc">Walker</span>.</p> + +<p>"The uninvitable in pursuit of the +indigestible," murmured Lord <span class="sc">Illingworth</span>, +as he lighted a cigarette.</p> + +<p>"Is that mayonnaise?'" asked the +Princess <span class="sc">Salomé</span> of Captain <span class="sc">Coddington</span>, who had taken her to +the +buffet. "I think it is mayonnaise. I am sure it is mayonnaise. +It is mayonnaise of salmon, pink as a branch of coral which fishermen +find in the twilight of the sea, and which they keep for the +King. It is pinker than the pink roses that bloom in the Queen's +garden. The pink roses that bloom in the garden of the Queen of +Arabia are not so pink."</p> + +<p>"Who's the jaded-looking Anglo-Indian, drinking brandy-and-soda?" +I asked.</p> + +<p>"That is a Plain young man. From the Hills. Which is curious. +I am much attached to him. By the way, I know who I am. And +why I wear a silver domino. You don't."</p> + +<p>"That's another story," I said. "Let's go to the smoking-room. +We shall find the Eminent Person, the Ordinary Man, the Poet, the +Journalist, and the Mere Boy, and they will all say delightful +things on painful subjects."</p> + +<p>"Barry Paynful," suggested the Mere Boy, with his usual impossibility. +They were trying to "draw" Lord <span class="sc">Illingworth</span>.</p> + +<p>"What is a good woman?" asked the Journalist.</p> + +<p>"A woman who admires bad men," answered Lord <span class="sc">Illingworth</span>.</p> + +<p>"What is a bad man?"</p> + +<p>"A man who smokes gold-tipped cigarettes."</p> + +<p>"Which would you rather, or go fishing?" inquired the Mere +Boy, irreverently.</p> + +<p>"Because it's a jar, of course. There are two kinds of women, +the plain and the coloured. But all art is quite useless."</p> + +<p>"I say!" exclaimed Lord <span class="sc">Henry</span>, taking from his friend's +pocket a gold match-box, curiously carved, and wrought with his +initials in chrysoprases and peridots. "I say, you know, +<span class="sc">Illingworth</span>—come—that's +mine. I said it to <span class="sc">Dorian</span> only the other +evening. You're always saying my things."</p> + +<p>"Well, what then? It is only the obvious and the tedious who +object to quotations. When a man says life has exhausted him——"</p> + +<p>"We know that he has exhausted life."</p> + +<p>"Women are secrets, not sphinxes."</p> + +<p>"Mine again," exclaimed Lord <span class="sc">Henry</span>.</p> + +<p>"It would be useful to carry a little book to note down your good +things."</p> + +<p>"Very useful. And I can forgive a man for making a useful +thing as long as he does not admire it."</p> + +<p>"That's New Humour, isn't it? And you're a New Humourist?" +said <span class="sc">Walker</span>, satirically. "Why, it's a contradiction in itself! +The very essence of a joke is, that it +should be old. Where would you find +anything funnier than the riddle, +'When is a door not a door?' and, +'Why does a miller wear a white +hat?' Ah! it won't last—we're +bound to go back to the 'Old Humour'—there's +nothing like it—what is that +noise?"</p> + +<p>"A dispute has arisen in the ladies' +cloak-room about a shawl. It's frightfully +thrilling!" said <span class="sc">Hilda Wangel</span>.</p> + +<p>"They seem to be going on anyhow. +It's nothing," said <span class="sc">Walker</span>.</p> + +<p>It appears that <span class="sc">Charley's</span> Aunt +had accused Princess <span class="sc">Salomé</span> of taking +her shawl. The Princess had indignantly +thrown it at her, and was +making rather rude personal remarks +about it.</p> + +<p>"I don't want your shawl. Your +shawl is hideous. It is covered with +dust. It is a tartan shawl. It is +like the shawl worn in melodrama by +the injured heroine who is about to +throw herself over the bridge by moonlight. +It is the shawl of a betrayed +heroine in melodrama. There never +was anything so hideous as your +shawl!"</p> + +<p>"Impertinence! To dare to speak +to me like this! I'm the success of +the season, and <i>you</i> were forbidden +the country," said <span class="sc">Charley's</span> Aunt, +furiously.</p> + +<p>The second Mrs. <span class="sc">Tanqueray</span> here +chimed in, giving her opinion, which +did not add to the harmony of the +gathering, and a secondary quarrel +was going on, because Captain <span class="sc">Coddington</span> +had said that the scent Comtesse +<span class="sc">Zicka</span> used "was not quite up to +date," and the latter was offended. +In fact, there was a regular row all +round. <span class="sc">Nora</span> banged her tambourine, and <span class="sc">Walker</span> playfully +pretended +to hide his head behind Lady <span class="sc">Windermere's</span> fan.</p> + +<p><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'A'">At</ins> last, however, we managed to calm the indignant ladies, and +the party began to break up.</p> + +<p>"The fact is," I said, "Society is getting a great deal too mixed. +Now, I like to go away from an afternoon party feeling a purer and +better man, my eyes filled with tears of honest English sentiment——"</p> + +<p>"Great Scott! don't go on like that. Come and have a drink," +said the <span class="sc">Silver Domino</span>.</p> + +<p>"Valour is the better part of indiscretion," murmured Lord +<span class="sc">Illingworth</span>. "Good-bye, <span class="sc">Henry</span>. It has been a most interesting +afternoon."</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>LORD'S AND SANDOWN.</h3> + +<p class="ind1"> +["The Eclipse Stakes of 10,000 sovs., to be run at Sandown Park on Friday, +July 14, is looked upon as practically a match between Baron <span class="sc">De Hirsch's</span> +filly, <i>La Flèche</i>, and the Duke of <span class="sc">Westminster's</span> colt, <i>Orme</i>."—<i>Illustrated +Sporting and Dramatic News.</i>] +</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The match between Eton and Harrow at Lord's</p> +<p class="i2">This week, which commences on Friday,</p> +<p>Because of the sport that it always affords,</p> +<p class="i2">Will draw a large crowd on that high-day.</p> +<p>But the interest taken in drive, cut, or catch,</p> +<p class="i2">Or as to which school will be beaten,</p> +<p>Will be nothing to that in the other great match,</p> +<p class="i2">The same day, 'tween The Arrow and Eaton.</p> + </div> </div> + + <hr class="medium" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" id="page14"></a>[pg 14]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/014-1000.png"><img src="images/014-600.png" width="600" height="423" alt="ROSEBERY TO THE RESCUE!" border="0" /></a> +<h3 class="sans">ROSEBERY TO THE RESCUE!</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>Unjust Steward.</i> "<span class="sc">Foiled! But no mattah! a time will come!!</span>"</p></div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" id="page15"></a>[pg 15]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/015-1000.png"><img src="images/015-600.png" width="600" height="363" alt="THE ART OF WAR." border="0" /></a> +<h3 class="sans">THE ART OF WAR.</h3> + +<p><i>Inspecting-General (galloping up to Mounted Yeoman, placed on Vedette +duty).</i> "<span class="sc">Now, Sir, what are you?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Yeoman.</i> "<span class="sc">Well, I do a little bit i' Pigs, Sir!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>ROSEBERY TO THE RESCUE!</h2> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="outdent"><i>Or, the Young Squire,</i></span> <i>the Unjust Steward, and the Grateful Ratepayer. +An Urban Drama, as lately performed at the County Hall, Spring +Gardens.</i></p> + +<p>(<i>Enter</i> Steward, <i>bearing plans of a splendid, and expensive, +Palace</i>.)</p> + +<p><i>Steward (looking lovingly upon plan).</i> Aha! Now shall I +triumph, despite mean Moderates, and cheese-paring Economists, +and reluctant Ratepayers. <span class="sc">Gr-r-r!</span> how I hate the whole +penurious brood! Housed appropriately I must and will be, though +Rate Incidence be as yet ill-adjusted, and that blessed word Betterment +be but an ear-soothing sound. But hold!—she comes!</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> Injured, but Beauteous, Ratepayer, <i>wringing her hands</i>.</p> + +<p><i>I. but B. R. (aside).</i> Hah! Whom have we here? Merciless +Master <span class="sc">D-ck-ns-n</span>, as I'm a living woman! Was't not enough that +Vestries should vex me, Boards o'erburden me, Pedagogues oppress, +and Precepts perplex, but <i>he</i> too must turn against me? (<i>Aloud.</i>) +Give you good den, Master D.! Hast news of comfort for me?</p> + +<p><i>Steward (harshly).</i> Woman, I know not what <i>thou</i> wilt deem news +of comfort. But if a superb site and a splendid structure (<i>pointing +to Plan</i>) have charms for thy something straitened and sordid soul, +then, verily——</p> + +<p><i>I. but B. R. (shrieking as she catches sight of the Plan, and the +fair round Figures attached thereto).</i> Alas, Mr. Steward! 'tis, as +thou sayst, superb—splendid—and, what is more, prodigiously +<i>expensive</i> withal! It is <i>magnifique</i>, but it is <i>not</i>—Economy!</p> + +<p><i>Steward (scornfully).</i> Expensive? Pooh! What matters a +Million or twain so London's Guardians be well housed?</p> + +<p><i>I. but B. R.</i> But, in the words of the old game, where's the +money to come from? Moreover, is it not understood that <i>all</i> +Metropolitan Improvements be postponed till such time as those ghouls +of ground-renters, those ogres of property-owners, are compelled +proportionally to disgorge?</p> + +<p><i>Steward.</i> Ahem! Truly so! But verily <i>this</i> matter is exceptional +and urgent. "Who drives fat oxen should himself be fat;" and +they who superintend the People's housing should surely themselves +be adequately, not to say magnificently, housed. As to the +money—why, fear not for thy pockets Dame, which are not yet +utterly depleted by that Briarean blood-sucker, <span class="sc">Bumble</span>. Why, we +shall right soon save the money in cab-fares, and—ahem!—other +comforts and conveniences for our committees, not to mention the +purchasing of supplementary tenements "at the rate of two houses +a year." Oh, be content, Dame; pay up, and look pleasant! +(<i>Imperatively.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>I. but B. R. (frantically).</i> Alas! Is there, then, no hope? Will <i>no</i> +one bring a rescue or two? "Oh, where is County (Council) Guy?"</p> + +<p><i>Enter the</i> Young Squire, <i>hastily</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Young Squire (hurriedly arrived from heavy business and urgent +elsewhere, but impelled by a sense of public duty to intervene on this +occasion).</i> <span class="sc">Here!!</span> (<i>Chord.</i>) Be consoled, Dame—<i>I</i> will +protect +thee! And for thee, Sir Steward, what the mischief art up to, with +thy Aladdin Palaces, and thine Odd Millions?</p> + +<p><i>Steward (confused, and displaying Plan).</i> Why, my lord—deeming +it befitting—that so illustrious and important and ubiquitously +influential a Body—as—Ourselves—should have a Local Habitation—as +well as a Name—I have prepared—this little Plan—which, with +the aid—of "a little cheque"—say for a trifle of Two Millions——</p> + +<p><i>Young Squire (snatching Plan from his grasp and gazing angrily +thereon).</i> Aha! A veritable Castle in the Air! An Arabian Nights' +Phantom Palace!! The House that Jack (in Office) <i>would have</i> +built!!! (<i>Tears it, and treads it under foot.</i>) Nay, Sir Steward, +thou hast much misunderstood thy trust. The housing of the poor, +rather than of the rich, is thy prime function. Attend first to this +little list of Metropolitan Improvements, which cannot be unfamiliar +to thine ears and eyes. Or if <i>they</i> must perforce be postponed until the +attainment of "a fairer adjustment of the incidence of taxation," +prythee, <i>à fortiori</i>, postpone also until that uncertain date this +precious scheme for an expensive Municipal Palace, and this premature +and impudent assault upon an already sufficiently depleted Pocket!</p> + +<p><i>I. but B. R. (clasping her hands in gratitude).</i> Ah, thanks, noble +youth! Heaven reward thee for thy magnanimous championship +of the poor gyurl's purse!</p> + +<p><i>Steward (aside).</i> Foiled!!! But no mattah! a time will come!!!</p> + +<p class="center">(<i>Curtain.</i>)</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">"M. G." and "G. M."</span>—The first whispered proposal is, we +believe, generally formulated thus, "May I then hope? May I?" +But H.R.H. the Duke of <span class="sc">York's</span> proposal must have been even more +simple than this, for hope being changed into certainty, there was +only the whispered question, "<span class="sc">May George</span>?" and the gentle +answer, "<span class="sc">George May</span>." Then—all ended happily.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" id="page16"></a>[pg 16]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">THE POLICE PHRASE-BOOK.</h2> + +<h4><span class="sc">As Used in France.</span></h4> + +<p class="ind1">I have no time to answer +questions.</p> + +<p class="ind1">The slightest protest will +mean arrest.</p> + +<p class="ind1">You will cause me to draw +my sword.</p> + +<p class="ind1">I have a loaded revolver.</p> + +<p class="ind1">We must take that barricade.</p> + +<p class="ind1">We must obtain the help of +the army.</p> + +<p class="ind1">We can assist bayonets with +bullets.</p> + +<p class="ind1">We have no cause to succour +the wounded.</p> + +<p class="ind1">We must preserve order.<br /> +And, to do this, we cry, +"Long live France! Fire +upon any one! Charge!"</p> + +<h4 style="margin-top: 2em;"><span class="sc">As Used in England.</span></h4> + +<p class="ind1">The first turning to the left. +Sir, and then keep straight on +until you meet another constable—then +ask again.</p> + +<p class="ind1">You have taken too much; +you had better go home +quietly. Shall I call a cab?</p> + +<p class="ind1">Now don't forget you are a +gentleman, Sir, but help me +to do my duty.</p> + +<p class="ind1">Now, coachman, wait a +moment. Must let these pass +before you can come.</p> + +<p class="ind1">We don't want any help, +Sir. Why the crowd's as +meek as sheep and as good +natured as sandboys.</p> + +<p class="ind1">Here, Sir, you have had an +awkward tumble. Let me +hold you up while my mate +goes for an ambulance.</p> + +<p class="ind1">We must preserve order.<br /> +And to do this we have only +to observe "move on."</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">Parliamentary.</span>—Change +of name. Mr. <span class="sc">Conybeare</span> +henceforth to be known as +"<span class="sc"><span style="letter-spacing:0.2em;">Conybore</span></span>," with the +accent on the "<i>bore</i>."</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/016-800.png"><img src="images/016-380.png" width="380" height="460" alt="" border="0" /></a> +<h2 class="sans">TOO AWFUL TO CONTEMPLATE!</h2> + +<h4><i>A Confidence. After the Garden Party</i>.</h4> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Oh, such a dreadful Thing happened to Me! I went up to +Lady Exe,—I had something very particular to say to her,—and I +didn't see she was talking to one of the Royal Princes. Well, +just fancy! I took no sort of Notice of him, but I just said what +I had to say to <i>her</i>. When I discovered what I had done, I called +on Lady Exe, and I said, 'I'm afraid His Royal Highness will be +awfully annoyed with me.' And dear Lady Exe quite comforted +me, you know. She said, 'If I were you, I wouldn't trouble myself +about it. He won't take any notice of it; as really, my Dear, +<i>people have such Bad Manners nowadays!</i></span>'"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">PROPHETIC DIARY OF THE L.C.C.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>For the Next Ten Years.</i>)</h4> +<ul class="none"> +<li>1894. Scheme accepted for +building Hôtel de Ville at a +cost of £3,000,000.</li> + +<li>1895. Purchase of Kensington +Gardens as a Recreation-ground +for the Improvement +Committee.</li> + +<li>1896. The Council buys St. +Paul's Cathedral as a Private +Chapel for the marriage of its +members and their families.</li> + +<li>1897. Completion of <i>The +Bumble</i> Steam-yacht of the +L. C. C., costing £100,000.</li> + +<li>1898. Uniforms for the +Members ordered at an expense +of £500,000.</li> + +<li>1899. Purchase of a Crown +and other Jewels for the +Chairman on State occasions.</li> + +<li>1900. The Palaces erected +for occupation by the Members +in Eaton, Belgrave, Grosvenor, +and Berkeley Squares acquired +and taken into use.</li> + +<li>1901. A sum not exceeding +£5,000,000 voted by the L. C. C. +for statues commemorating +themselves, their wives, and +their families.</li> + +<li>1902. Resolution carried by +acclamation confiscating the +entire sum received from the +ratepayers for the L. C. C. +Secret Service Fund.</li> + +<li>1903. Petition for Metropolitan +Improvement unanimously +rejected.</li> + +<li>1904. Act abolishing the +L. C. C. passed in Parliament +at a single sitting.</li> +</ul> +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1">"<span class="sc">Commons Preservation +Society.</span>"—A most useful +body, no doubt. "But," asks +Lord <span class="sc">T. Noddie</span>, "as our +Upper House is so often +threatened, why isn't there a +"Lords Preservation Society?"</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>DANCE TILL DAWN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Charming maidens, smiling brightly,</p> +<p>Moving gracefully and lightly</p> +<p class="i22"> As the fawn,</p> +<p>Linger still, let me invite you,</p> +<p>Surely on this short June night you</p> +<p class="i22"> Dance till dawn.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Till the early bird will get the</p> +<p>Worm, and seaside shrimpers net the</p> +<p class="i22"> Shrimp or prawn.</p> +<p>Whilst they print the morning paper,</p> +<p>Let us glide and whirl and caper</p> +<p class="i22"> Till the dawn.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Till, with waking chirp of sparrows,</p> +<p>Early costermongers' barrows</p> +<p class="i22"> Forth are drawn.</p> +<p>Till the candles flare and gutter.</p> +<p>And the daylight, through the shutter,</p> +<p class="i22"> Peeps at dawn;</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Till the cock is crowing; listen!</p> +<p>And the dainty dewdrops glisten</p> +<p class="i22"> On the lawn;</p> +<p>Till my pretty partner's posies,</p> +<p>Made of June's delightful roses,</p> +<p class="i22"> Droop at dawn;</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Till my collar's limp and flabby—</p> +<p>Then I hail the sleepy cabby,</p> +<p class="i22"> As I yawn;</p> +<p>Home, to dream of sweet cheeks blushing</p> +<p>Like the sky, now rosy flushing</p> +<p class="i22"> At the dawn.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p><span class="sc">Très Beau-tanical.</span>—An Aladdin-like +Magic-Lamp and Magic-Lantern Night at +the Botanical Gardens on Wednesday. A +thousand additional traditional lamps. The +Flower of the Aristocracy, being at the State +Ball, is represented by the Aristocracy of +Flowers (in the absence of Lord and Lady +<span class="sc">Battersea</span>, without whom no Floral <i>Fête</i> can +be absolutely perfect) in every part of these +beautiful gardens. Bands playing; but not +sufficient distance between them, so that +when they performed, simultaneously, entirely +different tunes, the effect was far from soothing +to the listeners' nerves. Why not adopt +the plan admirably carried out at the Marlborough +House Garden Party, where one band +having finished, another, at a distance, commenced? +Why among the harmony of colours +at the Botanical should there be produced +by the conflict of two tunes, taken in different +times, but played at the same moment, an +inharmonious whole?</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">Ladies' Fashions.</span>—Extremes: <i>Minimum</i>—Bonnet; +a ribbon and rosette. <i>Maximum</i>—Hat; +a Flower Garden on a Yard of Straw.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3 class="sans">THE MODERN NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>If times were as when time was young,</p> +<p>And reason ruled each shepherd's tongue,</p> +<p>Thy pretty speeches might me move,</p> +<p>To live with thee, and be thy love.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But times are changed in field and fold,</p> +<p>At shocking prices sheep are sold,</p> +<p>And farmers look exceeding glum,</p> +<p>Foreboding darker days to come.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The weeds do choke the thriftless fields,</p> +<p>No profit now the harvest yields;</p> +<p>Honey is sought, but only gall</p> +<p>Is found, for still the prices fall.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Thy pinks, thy stocks, thy Provence roses,</p> +<p>Are pretty, and I'm fond of posies;</p> +<p>But wages may not long be gotten</p> +<p>When folly's rife, and business rotten.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A man of straw thy master seems,</p> +<p>No grain of sense is in thy dreams,</p> +<p>And my Papa would not approve</p> +<p>Even if I would be thy love.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But, when times mend, sheep-farms succeed,</p> +<p>And all on English mutton feed,</p> +<p>Ask me again, and thou may'st move,</p> +<p>To live with thee, and be thy love.</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" id="page17"></a>[pg 17]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>OPERATIC NOTES.</h3> + +<p><i>Tuesday, July 4. State Visit to the Opera.</i>—Yes, "<span class="sc">Todgers's</span> +could do it when it liked," as <span class="sc">Charles Dickens</span> remarked in <i>Martin +Chuzzlewit</i>, and Sir <span class="sc">Coventgardensis Druriolanus</span> can do it when +<i>he</i> likes, rather! The front of the house is quite a "mask of flowers," +which the Master of the Gray's Inn Revels, himself present in a +gorgeous and awe-inspiring uniform, regards with a benign and +appreciative smile. Interesting +to note a number of +ordinarily quiet and unobtrusive +individuals, personally +known to me as the +mildest-mannered men, who +now appear as the fiercest, +and, on such a night, the +hottest of warriors; seeing +that if it is 98 in the shade, +the temperature must be ten +degrees higher to those who +are buttoned up to the chin +in a military uniform, with +straps, belts, buckles, boots, +weighted too with a dangling, +clattering sword, and +having to carry about a +thickly-furred hat, with a +plume in it like a shaving-brush, +that obstinately +refuses to be hung up, or +sat upon, or put out of +sight, in any sort of way +whatever, and which, +like a baby in arms, must +be carried,—or dropped. +The Venetians on the stage +in all their mediæval +bravery are not arrayed +like one of these simple +English yeomen, for, as I +am given to understand, to +that glorious body of our +country's agricultural defenders +do these dashing +Hussars, in their Hessian-fly +boots, belong! Ah! with such warriors England is safe!</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"><a href="images/017-400.png"><img src="images/017-200.png" width="200" height="368" alt="" border="0" /></a> +<p class="center">"Pas de Druriolanus; or, All among the Roses."</p></div> + +<p>Then there are what <i>Mr. Weller</i> would have termed "My +Prooshan Blues," and likewise the diplomatic Muscovite, in hard-looking +cap, blue, naval-looking coat, and (apparently) flannel +boating trousers, falling, rather short, on to ordinary boots, with +plain unornamental spurs; a costume which, on the whole, suggests +that its wearer, at the command of the Autocrat of all the Russias, +must be ready at a second's notice to execute a forced march, dance +a hornpipe, run as a footman, take somebody up as a policeman, +head a cavalry charge, or (still in spurs) steer a torpedo boat on its +dangerous errand. Opera going strong, with the <span class="sc">De Frisky</span> Bros. +& Co. The Last Act (by Royal Command) is omitted, and so for the +first time in dramatic history the story of <i>Romeo and Juliet</i> ends as +happily as possible. The lovers are only interrupted by the fall of the +curtain, and there are no sleeping draughts, poisonings, or burials. It +is a realisation of the line in <i>The Critic</i>, "In the Queen's name +I charge you all to drop your swords and daggers!" Only the +order is given in the Princess's name, and the swords, daggers, and +deadly draughts are all dropped accordingly. Greatest possible +success. <i>Gloria</i> <span class="sc">Druriolano</span>!</p> + +<p><i>Friday Night.</i>—First performance of <i>I Rantzau</i>, and first-rate +performance, too. The Plot is simply a Plot of Land. Scene laid—laid +for seven <i>dramatis personæ</i>—in a Vague Village of the +Vosges; time, present century. The Rantzaus are the Capulets +and Montagues of this district; the son of one faction is in love +with the daughter of the other; but it doesn't end tragically, and +the lovers marry. That's all. It was played as a Drama at the +Français, with <span class="sc">Got</span> in it; when subsequently it was turned into an +Opera, it had the "Go" taken out of it. <span class="sc">De Lucia</span>, <span class="sc">Ancona</span>, +<span class="sc">Castelmary</span>, <span class="sc">Bispham</span>, and <span class="sc">Corsi</span> doing their very best, +as do +also the lamplighter and his assistant, who deftly perform their +"Wagnerian watchman" "business" to characteristic music. +Mlle. <span class="sc">Bauermeister</span> great in a small part; and Madame <span class="sc">Melba</span> +does her very best with the singularly uninteresting part of <i>Luisa</i>, +who is a very "Limited Loo." Signor <span class="sc">Mascagni</span> conducted the +Opera, and was himself conducted on to the stage as often as possible +in order to receive the congratulations of his "friends in +front." <i>I Rantzau</i> not "in it" with <span class="sc">Mascagni's</span> <i>Cavalleria</i>, +which, +like the Rantzau family at the end of the piece, "still holds the field." +Thermometer 95° in the stalls. House animated and appreciative.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday.</i>—<i>Les Huguenots.</i> Grand Cast. Thermometer down again.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>A DITTY OF THE DOG-DAYS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Ninety-one in the shade, by <span class="sc">Negretti</span> and <span class="sc">Zambra</span>!</p> +<p class="i4">'Tis O that I dwelt in an ice-crevasse,</p> +<p class="i4">Or rented a share in the <i>Mer de Glace</i>,</p> +<p class="i4">Or hired (ere I melt and resolve to gas)</p> +<p>That <i>patio</i> cool in the chill Alhambra</p> +<p class="i2">(Not "Lei-ces-ter Squarr," but Granada far),</p> +<p class="i2">Where fountains sprinkle and plash and tinkle—</p> +<p class="i4">Ay me! that my dream can ne'er come to pass!</p> +<p>"Fourteen hours of the sun!" says the "Jordan Recorder"—</p> +<p class="i4">Each day it grows hotter in London town!</p> +<p class="i4">The plane-trees are withered and burnt and brown;</p> +<p class="i4">Ere Lammas has come the leaves are down!</p> +<p>The months have been mixed—they're out of order;</p> +<p class="i2">We'd the weather of June six weeks too soon;</p> +<p class="i2">And now we swelter and gasp for shelter—</p> +<p class="i4">We're grilled alive from toe to crown!</p> +<p>There's drought in the fields, and drought in my gullet!</p> +<p class="i4">I would that I sat in a boundless tank</p> +<p class="i4">Of claret and soda, and drank and drank!</p> +<p class="i4">My thirst with <span class="sc">Pantagruel's</span> own would rank—</p> +<p>Gargantuan draughts alone may lull it!</p> +<p class="i2">A shandygaff "chute" <i>à la</i> <span class="sc">Boyton</span> would suit,</p> +<p class="i2">Or of Pilsener lager a Nile or Niagara—</p> +<p class="i4">Would that it through my œsophagus sank!</p> +<p>I'd long to be <span class="sc">Nansen</span>, that bold Norwegian,</p> +<p class="i4">Who's off to the north like a sailor-troll;</p> +<p class="i4">Dry land I prefer in my inmost soul,</p> +<p class="i4">And his tub-like <i>Fram</i> will pitch and roll,</p> +<p>But she's bound at least for a glacial region!</p> +<p class="i2">Or stay, to be sure! here's Professor <span class="sc">D——r</span></p> +<p class="i2">To cold can consign us untold degrees <i>minus</i>—</p> +<p class="i4">There's no need to visit the Northern Pole!</p> +<p>With this decuman "heat-wave" I grow delirious,</p> +<p class="i4">And babble a prayer to the Maid who sways</p> +<p class="i4">The Weather-department (on working-days)</p> +<p class="i4">Of the <i>Daily Graphic</i>—in crazy phrase—</p> +<p>The bale-fire to quench of far-distant Sirius!</p> +<p class="i2">To the Man in the Moon at noon I croon</p> +<p class="i2">For a lunatic boon, if that lone buffoon</p> +<p class="i2">Can stay this canicular, perpendicular,</p> +<p class="i2">Bang-on-my-forehead, horrid, torrid,</p> +<p class="i2">Beaming, gleaming, and ever-streaming</p> +<p class="i4">Blaze of rays that maze and daze!!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>ROBERT AT THE MANSHUN HOUSE.</h3> + +<p>I have long nown as how as the present <span class="sc">Lord Mare</span> was one of +the werry nicest, as well as one of the werry liberallists, of Lord +Mares as we has had for many years, but I most suttenly did not +kno, till larst Saturday, that, noticing, as he must have done, how +shamefoolly the County Counsellors is a trying for to destroy the grand +old Copperation, and take pusession of Gildhal and the Manshun +House, he had the courage to assemble round his ospiterbel Table all +the most princiblest of the great writers of our wunderful and +powerful Press, and let them judge for theirselves whether sich a +hinstitootion as he represented was worth preserwin or not! Ah, +that was sumthink like a Bankwet that was! Why amost eweryboddy +was there as was anyboddy. And the ony trubble as that +caused was, that they was all so jolly glad to meet each other, under +sitch unusual suckemstances, that nothink on airth coud keep em +quiet, no, not ewen when the Amerrycan Embassader torked to em +for about arf a nour!</p> + +<p>One of the most distinguist of the skollars as I was waiting on +told one of the most butiful Painters, in my hearing, as how he +thort it wood be rayther a wise thing of all future Lord Mares if +they himmitated the present <span class="sc">Lord Mare's</span> exampel; and I wentur, +with all umility, to say Ditto to the distinguisht Skoller. <span class="sc">Robert.</span></p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">Ge-o-m-etrically Considered.</span>—The illuminations were as good +as they could be everywhere. The brilliant initials, "G. M.," +wanted nothing to render them perfect. If that want had been supplied, +then, as "nothing" is represented by a cipher, the initials +would have commemorated the G. <i>O.</i> M.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">From Henley to the Opera on the Night of the State +Performance.</span>—"Rich and rare were the gems they wore;" and +two ladies, with magnificent tiaras, if they had only shown up at +Henley, would have won the prize for "<i>The Diamond Skulls</i>."</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind">Mrs. R. caught sight of a heading in a daily paper—"Board of +Trade Returns." Our old friend at once exclaimed. "Then where +has the Board of Trade been to? Where is it returning from? I +really don't call this attending to business."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" id="page18"></a>[pg 18]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/018-1000.png"><img src="images/018-600.png" width="600" height="399" alt="A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE." border="0" /></a> +<h3>A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.</h3> + +<p><i>Tommy</i> (<i>on his way to the Browns' Juvenile Garden Party</i>). "<span class="sc">Now, +Nurse, remember, when once we've passed that Garden Gate, +<i>you don't belong to Me!</i></span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>FATHER WILLIAM.</h3> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="outdent">(<i>Latest Anglo-Teutonic Version</i></span><i>, as repeated to the Caterpillar of State +by Alice, in Blunderland, from vague and mixed reminiscences of +Southey, Lewis Carroll, and the Reports of the Debates in the British +Parliament and the German Reichstag, concerning the Home-Rule +Bill and the Army Bill respectively.</i>)</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I am changed, Sir." said <span class="sc">Alice</span>; "I can't remember +things as I used—and I don't keep to the same author for ten +minutes together!"</p> + +<p>"Can't remember <i>what</i> things?" said the Caterpillar of State.</p> + +<p>"Well, I've tried to sing '<i>Rule, Britannia</i>', but it all came +different, and got mixed up with '<i>The Watch on the Rhine</i>!'" +<span class="sc">Alice</span> replied, in a very melancholy voice.</p> + +<p>"Repeat '<i>You are old, Father William</i>,'" said the Caterpillar +of State.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Alice</span> folded her hands, and began:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Good-morrow!" the youth to the Woodcutter cried;</p> +<p class="i2">"Father <span class="sc">William</span>, you're 'sniggling,' I see!"</p> +<p>With a smile of bland 'cuteness the Old Man replied,</p> +<p class="i2">"Master <span class="sc">William</span>, good morrow! I <i>be</i>!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"You are old, Father <span class="sc">William</span>," the young <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> said,</p> +<p class="i2">"And your hair, what there is of it, 's white;</p> +<p>And yet you still stand at the Government's head—</p> +<p class="i2">Do you think, at your age, it is right?"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Some twenty years since," Father <span class="sc">William</span> replied,</p> +<p class="i2">"I'd a passionate wish to retire;</p> +<p>But as I grow younger each year, I have tried</p> +<p class="i2">To subdue that untimely desire."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"You are old," said the youth, "yet your seat appears firm,</p> +<p class="i2">You are still pretty good over timber;</p> +<p>Your double back somersaults make your foes squirm.</p> +<p class="i2">What keeps you so nimble and limber?"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"In my youth," said the Senior, "I kept all my limbs—</p> +<p class="i2">And some say my principles—supple;</p> +<p>And that's why old age neither stiffens nor dims,</p> +<p class="i2">And years with alertness I couple."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"You are old," said the youth, "and your 'jaw' should be weak,</p> +<p class="i2">I've often heard <span class="sc">Bizzy</span> pooh-pooh it.</p> +<p>Yet you polish off <span class="sc">Joe</span>, and tap <span class="sc">Goschen's</span> big beak;</p> +<p class="i2">Pray, how do you manage to do it?"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"In <i>my</i> youth," said the Sage, "Fair Debate was the law,</p> +<p class="i2">And genuine Eloquence rife;</p> +<p>And so in an age of mere Brummagem 'jaw'</p> +<p class="i2">I can still hold my own in the strife."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"You are old," said the youth; "one would hardly suppose</p> +<p class="i2">That your eye was as steady as ever;</p> +<p>Yet you balance that eel on the end of your nose—</p> +<p class="i2">What makes you so awfully clever?"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"<i>You</i> are young," smiled old <span class="sc">Will</span>; "you don't yet understand.</p> +<p class="i2">The point—of the eel—you'd be missing;</p> +<p>But when you're an Old Parliamentary Hand</p> +<p class="i2">You will find it as easy as kissing!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"I've caught an eel, also," observed the young 'sniggler,'</p> +<p class="i2">"<i>I</i>'m not, like you, beaked <i>à la</i> Toucan;</p> +<p>Mine's still smaller than yours, and a terrible wriggler;</p> +<p class="i2">I wish I could work it as <i>you</i> can!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"The equilibrist's art," the Old Juggler replied,</p> +<p class="i2">"Is not to be learned in a jiffy.</p> +<p>With the help of your Eyes (<i>Ayes</i>), and your Nose (<i>Noes</i>), and good 'side,'</p> +<p class="i2">You <i>may</i> win—if you do not turn 'squiffy.'"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>"That is not said right," said the Caterpillar of State.</p> + +<p>"Not <i>quite</i> right, I'm afraid," said <span class="sc">Alice</span>, timidly; "some of +the words have got altered."</p> + +<p>"It is wrong from beginning to end," said the Caterpillar, +decidedly; and there was silence for some minutes.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" id="page19"></a>[pg 19]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"><a href="images/019-800.png"><img src="images/019-350.png" width="350" height="443" alt="" border="0" /></a> +<h2>"FATHER WILLIAM."</h2> + +<p>"YOU ARE OLD," SAID THE YOUTH; "ONE WOULD HARDLY SUPPOSE</p> +<p> THAT YOUR EYE WAS AS STEADY AS EVER;</p> +<p>YET YOU BALANCE THAT EEL ON THE END OF YOUR NOSE—</p> +<p> WHAT MAKES YOU SO AWFULLY CLEVER?"</p> + </div> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" id="page20"></a>[pg 20]</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" id="page21"></a>[pg 21]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>AN ORATOR "POUR RIRE."</h3> + +<h4>(<span class="sc">A Study in Hyde Park.</span>)</h4> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="outdent"><i>The Scene is that</i></span> <i>Forum for Fadmongers—the angle of the Park +fronting Cumberland Gate. A large and utterly irreverent +crowd is listening with cheerful intolerance to a Persevering +Gentleman, of a highly respectable and almost scholarly appearance, +who is addressing them from a three-legged stool on +nothing in particular, though he has apparently committed +himself by charging a certain Statesman with at least two +political murders.</i></p> + +<p><i>The Orator</i> (<i>haltingly</i>). We who are fighting the +battle—(<i>uproarious +laughter from</i> Crowd, <i>which he endures with dignified +resignation</i>)—I say—we who are fighting the battle!</p> + +<p><i>The Crowd.</i> 'Oo's talking about fightin' a battle?... <i>You</i> +wouldn't be 'ere if there was any battles about! 'E's a fair ole +fraud, 'e is—that's about 'is sort! Shet up, you idiotic ole ass, do! +(&c., &c.)</p> + +<p><i>The Orator</i> (<i>patiently</i>). I say once more—we who are fighting +the——(<i>Howls of derision, at which he +smiles, but perceives, regretfully, that the +battle must be abandoned.</i>) One of my friends +here has seen fit to describe me as an idiotic +old ass. ("<i>So you are!</i>") Well, I am glad, +at least, that he pronounced it <i>ass</i> with the +vowel short, and not ass, for it shows that +he has at least a certain regard for the +Queen's English (<i>The</i> Crowd <i>hasten to give +the vowel sound all the breadth in their +power</i>). I think I was—(<i>here he consults a +sheaf of notes</i>)—offering some remarks upon +Mr. <span class="sc">William Wobler</span>. Now we are told, +"Speak evil of no man!"</p> + +<p><i>The Crowd.</i> That's a good un! 'Oo spoke +evil of Mr. <span class="sc">Bagwind</span> jest now?</p> + +<p><i>The Orator</i> (<i>mildly hurt</i>). I never said a +single unkind word about Mr. <span class="sc">Bagwind</span>!</p> + +<p><i>The Crowd.</i> Yer lie! Why, didn't you +say as he murdered <span class="sc">Jettison</span> and <span class="sc">Scapegoat</span>? +Wot yer call <i>that</i>, eh?</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 250px;"><a href="images/021-500.png"><img src="images/021-230.png" width="230" height="467" alt="" border="0" /></a> +<p class="center">"I say—<i>Never!</i>"</p></div> + +<p><i>The Orator.</i> I may have made some such +observation—but far be it from me to speak +evil of any man. If I spoke evil, it was on +public grounds. I should scorn to attack +any individual in his private character. I +think I have satisfactorily answered <i>that</i> +matter. And I tell you this—it is largely +owing to me that Mr. <span class="sc">William Wobler</span> +owes his seat in Parliament to-day! (<i>His +hearers receive this with frank incredulity.</i>) +Ah, but it <i>is</i>, though, and I denounce him, +as I have denounced him before, and <i>shall</i> +denounce him while I have power to raise +my voice, as a man who has proved himself +utterly unworthy of the efforts I have made +on his behalf. Some people are saying they +want <span class="sc">Thomas Tiddler</span> in North Paddington. +I say—<i>Never!</i> Not as long as I've breath in +my body shall <span class="sc">Thomas Tiddler</span> be returned +for any constituency! No, gentlemen: here +I stand before you, with no money, and +only one lung. I have rich and high relations, +to whom I might apply for relief if I +condescended to do so; but I scorn to abase myself in any such +manner. I prefer to appeal to you, the people of London. It's a +disgrace—a public disgrace—that you people should allow such a +man as myself to walk the streets without food! (<i>A voice.</i> "Why +don't yer <i>work</i>?") Work? Am I <i>not</i> working? Am I not in my +proper place here to-night?</p> + +<p><i>The Crowd</i> (<i>with hearty unanimity</i>). No!</p> + +<p><i>The Orator</i> (<i>with exultation</i>). Then support me in the name of all +you hold dear! I have my work to accomplish, and I <i>shall</i> +accomplish it by the aid of the People's pence, by the aid of the +People's sixpences,—aye, and by the aid of the People's <i>shillings</i>! +<i>Will</i> you help me?</p> + +<p><i>The Crowd</i> (<i>more heartily than ever</i>). No!</p> + +<p><i>The Orator.</i> Then I will now proceed to make a collection.</p> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="outdent">[<i>He descends</i></span> <i>from his stool, and circulates among the crowd +proffering a highly respectable hat. A</i> Rival Orator <i>mounts +the stool; he has a straw hat, side whiskers, and a style of +concentrated and withering invective</i>.</p> + +<p><i>The Rival Orator</i> (<i>fluently, and with much enjoyment of his own +eloquence</i>). I shall preface what I have to say by protesting in the +strongest terms at my disposal against the most disgraceful attack +we have had the pain of listening to to-night, against the character +of a Statesman we all revere, by the unspeakably offensive and +degraded individual with a black coat, a clean collar, and only one +lung, who has just concluded his contemptible remarks, and is now +debasing himself, if possible, still further by going round cringing, +actually cringing, for the miserable halfpence which he hopes his +foul-mouthed virulence will extract from the more foolish among +his hearers! (<i>Applause at this spirited opening; the</i> First Orator +<i>imperturbably continues to protrude his hat</i>.) I have no hesitation in +saying that if such language as he has favoured us with was uttered +against a public man in any other community, in any other country, +in any other hemisphere in the civilized globe, the audience would +have risen in righteous indignation, and chased the cowardly +aggressor back to the vile den from whose obscurity he would have +done better never to emerge! Gentlemen, he has appealed to your +sympathy on the ground, forsooth, that he has only one lung! I +venture to assert that it is nothing short of a public calamity that he +<i>is</i> the possessor of one lung; for had he none at all, he would have +been incapable of outraging the general intelligence by the utterance +of such sentiments as he has disgusted you by this evening. +When I first became acquainted with this man, before he had sunk +into the besotted state in which he now wallows, +he used, I remember, to condemn the +practice of making a public collection. Now +I've never been against that practice myself. +<i>I</i> hold that a man who is capable of attracting +an audience by such gifts of oratory +as he may possess, is perfectly justified in +making a collection afterwards, whether he +requires the money or not. But this person +has become so degraded, so destitute of any +sense of honour, so soaked and sodden with +gin, that he now turns round on the principles +he once professed, and is to be seen +going round with a hat laden with the +coppers of those who are infinitely worse off +than—judging from his dress and prosperous +appearance—he evidently is himself!</p> + +<p><i>The First Orator</i> (<i>exhibiting his empty hat</i>). +It don't look much like it at present, <span class="sc">Gabbitt</span>!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Gabbitt.</i> He has boasted to you of having +rich relations, and said he scorned to apply to +them. I want to know why, instead of coming +here begging to you, he <i>don't</i> go to them?</p> + +<p><i>The First Orator.</i> I've <i>been</i>, <span class="sc">Gabbitt</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. G.</i> (<i>triumphantly</i>). You hear? he's +been to them. That proves they've found him +out; they know him for the grovelling soaker +he is, a wretch tottering on the verge of delirium +tremens, and, rightly, they'll have +nothing to do with him. It's very possible, +gentlemen, that he <i>may</i> have rich relations +in the place where most of us have rich +relations—I refer to the workhouse! (<i>Cheers +and laughter.</i>) And it is this wretch, this +indescribable mixture of meanness and malignity, +who has dared to come here and charge +Mr. <span class="sc">Bagwind</span> with crime! He asked you—and +let him not deny it now—"What about +Mr. <span class="sc">Scapegoat</span>?" Well, there may be a +good many things about Mr. <span class="sc">Scapegoat</span>, but +what I tell <i>you</i> is—an observation like that +is one that doesn't convey any concrete idea +whatever; in short, it is the observation of a +drivelling and confirmed lunatic!</p> + +<p><i>Voice in the Crowd.</i> With on'y one lung; don't forgit that, ole man!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. G.</i> (<i>magnanimously</i>). No, I've done with his lung, now; it +doesn't do to carry personalities too far, and I've disposed of that +already, and have no desire to return to it. And, as I observe that +the wretched object of the strictures which I have felt it my duty to +express, has concluded his efforts with the hat, and met with the +freezing contempt and indifference which are only to be expected +from intelligent and fair-minded men like yourselves, I will now +bring my exposure of the sophistries, the base insinuations, and the +incoherent maunderings which he had the effrontery to impose upon +your understandings as argument, to a premature close, and proceed +to make a collection on my own account, and thereby afford you the +opportunity of showing on which side your real sympathies and your +confidence are enlisted.</p> + +<p class="ind"><span class="outdent1">[<i>He goes round</i></span> <i>with the straw hat, which his delighted audience fill +liberally with the coppers that the previous speaker has ignominiously +failed to extract from them. But the tender-hearted Reader +may be relieved to hear that, as soon as the crowd has dispersed, +the victor shares the proceeds of his eloquence in the handsomest +manner with his adversary, who shows a true elevation of mind in +betraying no abiding resentment at his oratorical defeat. So may +all such contests terminate—as, for that matter, they generally do.</i></p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" id="page22"></a>[pg 22]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>"THE PLAY IS NOT THE THING."</h3> + +<p>(<i>A Farce which is running in +most of the London Theatres, +but which should not be +tolerated for a single Night.</i>)</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Scene</span>—<i>Auditorium of the +T. R.—— during the +performance of a Modern +Comedy. Enter a party +of four</i> Playgoers <i>into +private box</i>.</p> + +<p><i>First Playgoer.</i> Rather a +pity it has begun! I always +like to see a play from first +to last. Don't you?</p> + +<p><i>Second P.</i> Quite. So +much more interesting. Of +course if you don't catch +what they say at first, how +on earth can you catch the +idea of the plot?</p> + +<p><i>Third P.</i> Not that the +plot matters much nowadays. +All dialogue, don't +you know? Smart hits at +somebody, and all that sort +of thing.</p> + +<p><i>Fourth P.</i> Quite. Really +better fun than the other sort +of thing. Much better fun +to have to listen to epigrams +and all that sort of thing, +than to have to follow something +or other with interest.</p> + +<p><i>Second P.</i> Quite. In fact, +nowadays, you can come in +when you like, and listen to +what you like.</p> + +<p><i>Third P.</i> Yes, much better +plan, than having to take it +all in. Think it a first-rate +idea to allow talking all +through, instead of keeping +that sort of thing until between +the Acts.</p> + +<p><i>Second P.</i> Quite. Between +the Acts a fellow wants to +smoke. Much jollier to talk +when the other fellows are +talking too. Divide the labour +with them—half the +conversation on one side the +Curtain, half on the other.</p> + +<p><i>Fourth P.</i> Capital idea, +and much less fatiguing +than the old style. Fancy +having to take it all in! +Why, ten years ago, one had +to get up a play as if one had +to pass an examination in it +next morning! Awful bosh!</p> + +<p><i>Second P.</i> Quite. No, it's +much jollier to chat. Is there +anyone in the house you +know?</p> + +<p><i>First P.</i> Only that Johnnie +over there! The fellow +in the dinner-jacket, who's +gone to sleep. He's rather +a sportsman. (<i>Applause.</i>) +Hallo! What's that row +about?</p> + +<p><i>Third P.</i> End of the First +Act. I say, you fellows, +I don't think there's much +in the piece, so far.</p> + +<p><i>Fourth P.</i> I am blest if I +know what it's all about.</p> + +<p><i>First P.</i> More do I.</p> + +<p><i>Second P.</i> And I. Why +should we stay any longer? +Seems awful rot.</p> + +<p><i>Fourth P.</i> Quite. Let's +go to a Music-Hall, where +we can smoke and chat.</p> + +<p><i>First P.</i> Quite.</p> + +<p class="ind"><span class="outdent1">[<i>Exeunt the party,</i></span> <i>to the +great relief of the remainder +of the Audience.</i></p> + +<p class="ind"><i>Curtain.</i></p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 330px;"><a href="images/022-800.png"><img src="images/022-330.png" width="330" height="460" alt="" border="0" /></a> +<h2 class="sans">PESSIMISM v. OPTIMISM.</h2> + +<p>(<i>From the City.</i>)</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">You're getting quite a Corporation, Brown!</span>"</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Yes; the result of a <i>Contented Mind</i>, Old Man!</span>"</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">No. You mean the result of a <i>Continual Feast</i>!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p><span class="sc">An Omission in Last +Week's Ceremonial Accounted +for.</span>—It was first +proposed to make a <i>détour</i> +from Piccadilly by way of +Park Lane, Stanhope Street, +and so forth, round again to +Piccadilly. But as H. R. H. +the Duke of YORK pointed out, +there was no necessity for specially +visiting May Fair, as +from start to finish he took +<span class="sc">May</span> Fair with him.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>PUNCH'S "GOD-SPEED" TO THE POLE-SEEKERS.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +[Dr. <span class="sc">Fridtjof Nansen's</span> Arctic Expedition +sailed from Christiania in the <i>Fram</i> on June 24.] +</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>So Dr. <span class="sc">Fridtjof Nansen's</span> off!</p> +<p>Cynics will chuckle, and pessimists scoff.</p> +<p>What a noodle, that Norroway chap,</p> +<p>Who'd drift to the Pole to—complete our map!</p> +<p>Year after year in the broad-beam'd <i>Fram</i>,</p> +<p>Far from Society's "Real Jam,"</p> +<p>Away from the fjords, and Five o'Clock Tea,</p> +<p>Amidst the ice of the Kara Sea;</p> +<p>Certain of darkness, discomfort, and frost,</p> +<p>With an excellent prospect of getting lost,</p> +<p>Crunched in the ice-pack, frozen, or starved,</p> +<p>Whilst Mansion-House Banquets are being carved;</p> +<p>Over the snow like pale ghosts flitting,</p> +<p>Missing the sweets of an All-Night Sitting!</p> +<p>Alone in a canvas-bottom'd bunk,</p> +<p>When gossip is gabbled, and toasts are drunk,</p> +<p>Where Good Society's geese gregarious,</p> +<p>Hiss malignant, or cackle hilarious!</p> +<p>Well, who knows? Those Arctic snows</p> +<p>May bore <i>men</i> less than our Social Shows;</p> +<p>And utter aridity starve the soul</p> +<p>More in the House than the Northern Pole!</p> +<p>Here's to <span class="sc">Nansen</span>! Here's to his crew!</p> +<p>We know they'll venture what men may do.</p> +<p>Good luck and good cheer be Heaven's gift</p> +<p>To the <i>Fram</i> and her men on that long, long drift!</p> +<p>And if they win through the Polar pack,</p> +<p>May <i>Punch</i> be foremost to welcome them back.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<h4><span class="sc">Extracted from the Diary of Toby, M.P.</span></h4> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Monday, July 3.</i>—The +fat in the fire again. Who put it there? +"I," said <span class="sc">Joey C.</span>, "with my ready ladle; +I swooped it in." So he did, lighting up +with sudden flame embers that seemed quite +dead. At end of speech on <span class="sc">Wolmer's</span> +Amendment, seeing <span class="sc">John Dillon</span> sitting +opposite, asked him what about few remarks +made at Castlerea, in which he had threatened, +when Irishmen came to their own on +College Green, they would have police, +sheriffs, and bailiffs, under their control, and +would "remember" their enemies? <span class="sc">Dillon</span>, +amid scene of tumultuous excitement, admitted +that phrase not in itself defensible, +but pleaded that words had been spoken amid +great provocation. The massacre at Mitchelstown +had taken place just before; its memories +were hot within him, and, out of the +indignation of his heart, his tongue had +spoken.</p> + +<p>As <span class="sc">Dillon</span> urged this plea, <span class="sc">T. W. Russell</span> +made a hurried remark in <span class="sc">Joseph's</span> ear. +J. smiled grimly; the Lord had delivered the +enemy into his hand. Some men would have +maimed their chance, if not spoiled the game, +by jumping up with hot interruption, and +hurriedly exposed the blunder upon which +<span class="sc">Dillon</span> had stumbled. <span class="sc">Joseph</span> never loses +his head. He lay low, sayin' nuffin', but +regarding the unconscious victim opposite +with dangerously smiling face. When <span class="sc">Dillon</span> +sat down, the crowded House plainly +moved by his effective speech, <span class="sc">Joseph</span> literally +leaped to his feet, and flung across the +floor the most complete and dramatic blow +ever dealt at a man in House of Commons. +It was Mitchelstown, was it, that had +rankled in <span class="sc">Dillon's</span> breast when he uttered +the phrase he now regretted? Would the +House believe that the massacre at Mitchelstown +took place on September 9, 1887, and +this speech at Castlerea was made on December +5, 1886?</p> + +<p>"Remember Mitchelstown!" <span class="sc">John Dillon</span> +had remembered it nine months and +four days before it had taken place. Several +moments the Unionists cheered, <span class="sc">Joseph</span> +standing with accusatory finger pointed at +<span class="sc">John Dillon</span>, who sat silent with folded arms, the habitual pallor +of his face changed to a ghastlier white.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" id="page23"></a>[pg 23]</span></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/023-1000.png"><img src="images/023-340.png" width="340" height="464" alt="" border="0" /></a> +<h3 class="sans">THE WEEK OF THE YEAR.</h3></div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" id="page24"></a>[pg 24]</span> +<p>"My dear <span class="sc">John</span>," I said to him later, "how on earth could you +make such a terrible mistake? The only amelioration it has is +that it was so stupendous and obvious that it was plainly stumbled +upon without intent or purport to deceive."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, <span class="sc">Toby</span>," said <span class="sc">John Dillon</span>. "I suppose that is +clear enough to the generous mind. But I know a blunder is sometimes +worse than a crime. The fact is, about the time I spoke at +Castlerea, things were so bad in Ireland, the police so little hesitating +to shoot, that I got mixed up in my dates, and remembered +Mitchelstown when I was thinking about something else."</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Home-Rule Bill in Committee.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—<span class="sc">Tritton</span> descending amongst the minnows has brought +up <span class="sc">Conybeare</span>. Not much heard of late of that eminent legislator. +Seems he's been compensating +enforced +silence in House by +"saying things" of +<span class="sc">Speaker</span> in letter to +newspaper. More than +hints <span class="sc">Speaker</span>, moved +by political motives, +has acted unfairly in +Chair. Perhaps <span class="sc">Tritton</span> +had done better to +leave him alone. Comparatively +few were +aware of the little +excursion into print. +Now blazoned forth to +all the world. Since +'twas done 'twas well +'twas done admirably. +<span class="sc">Speaker</span> moved to one +of those outbursts of +passionate though restrained +eloquence of +which, upon occasion, +he shows himself +capable. As Baron +<span class="sc">Ferdy</span> remarks:—"Since +<span class="sc">G.P.R. James</span> +was sent as Consul to +Venice, the only city +in the world where the +solitary horseman of +his many novels could +not be 'observed,' +nothing so quaint as +condemning one of the +few parliamentary +orators of the day to the +silence of the Chair."</p> + +<p>Mr. G. delivered +brief but magnificent +speech, instinct with the true spirit of Parliamentarian. <span class="sc">Prince +Arthur</span> said a few words; everybody looked round for <span class="sc">Curse Of +Camborne</span> but unwonted access of modesty had seized him. Here was +opportunity with crowded House waiting on his words. And where +was he? Not in his place; so episode closed.</p> + +<p>Though <span class="sc">Conybeare's</span> intention probably not kindly meant, +<span class="sc">Speaker</span> certainly under considerable obligation to him. Opportunity +afforded House of enthusiastically applauding the most +capable, dignified, upright <span class="sc">Speaker</span> that ever faced the fierce light +that beats upon the Chair of the House of Commons.</p> + +<p>Came across <span class="sc">Herbert Maxwell</span> just now; haven't seen him since +Saturday; met at dinner to Art and Literature given at Mansion +House by Lord Mayor <span class="sc">Knill</span>. "<span class="sc">Bayard</span> finished his speech yet?" +I asked.</p> + +<p>"Not sure," said <span class="sc">Maxwell</span>; "fancy not. When I was carried +out, in state approaching coma, I observed on table before him two +or three other volumes of manuscript, containing further passages +of the prodigious recitation."</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bayard</span> is the new American Minister, doncha; made his first +public appearance at the Mansion House on Saturday; felt he must +rise to occasion; and did.</p> + +<p>"Yours is a mere speck of a country, <span class="sc">Toby</span>," he said, before +we went in to dinner. "Your public speeches are, very properly, +planned in proportion. Now America, as you may have heard, is a +vast Continent, and I've got up a little thing to scale."</p> + +<p>"Otherwise a very pleasant dinner," said <span class="sc">Maxwell</span>. "I sat next +to a Citizen and Loriner. Don't know what a Loriner is, but fancy, +from look in my friend's eyes, it's something to do with fish. +When turtle soup appeared on table there was phosphorescent +gleam in the worthy Loriner's eyes. He prodded me genially in ribs +with a fat elbow, and said with ungent chuckle, 'Ah, I s'pose you +writing fellows don't often sit down to a dinner like <i>this</i>?'"</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—In Committee on Home-Rule Bill. Much cry and +few Amendments.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—At ten o'clock to-night guillotine descended; simultaneously +Opposition lost their head; for hour and half there raged +succession of angry scenes that beat a gorgeous record. Mr. G. and +<span class="sc">Prince Arthur</span>, coming and going from division lobbies, were made +objects of rival ovations. Liberals and the Irish leaped to their feet, +madly cheering when <span class="sc">Premier</span> dropped in. Few minutes earlier or +later came <span class="sc">Prince Arthur</span>; instantly Unionists on their feet wildly +cheering. Outside all London making holiday. Here hon. gentlemen +almost clutching at each other's throats across the beneficently +wide floor. Instead of wedding festivities and national holiday +depleting House it was fuller than ever. <span class="sc">Villiers</span> came down to +give his vote against +Closure; Unionists +rapturous round their +Grand Old Man. The +other side had Mr. G. +with his fourscore +years and four. <span class="sc">Villiers</span> +of Wolverhampton +topped him by +seven years. Nearly +carried him into division +lobby shoulder +high; beat hasty retreat +after doing this +last service to his +country.</p> + +<p>"Fact is, you know, +<span class="sc">Toby</span>," he said, "I'm +not quite the young +fellow I used to be; +can't stand the racket +as was easy enough +some sixty or seventy +years ago. If they'll +kindly excuse me, I'll +go and take a walk +with the crowd to see +the illuminations in +Piccadilly. That will +be delightfully quiet +after this turmoil."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a href="images/024-800.png"><img src="images/024-500.png" width="500" height="451" alt="'THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE.'" border="0" /></a> +<h3>"THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE."</h3></div> + +<p>On Clause 6 <span class="sc">Sage Of +Queen Anne's Gate</span>, +accompanied by half-a-dozen +unpurchaseable +Radicals, voted +in Opposition lobby; +brought Government +majority down to 15; +crowd, streaming by +Palace Yard, clearly +heard terrific cheers that welcomed this falling off. Proposed to bring +back the <span class="sc">Sage</span> and his merry men in triumph. Floral decoration +being order of day, why not let them enter rose-garlanded, led by +<span class="sc">Prince Arthur</span> on one side, and <span class="sc">Joey C.</span> on the other? +Guaranteed +a noble reception from grateful and gratified Opposition. But some +difference of opinion arose within little circle of Stalwarts, and proposal +abandoned. Drifted in one by one, amid stream of Opposition.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Clauses 5, 6, 7, and 8 added to Home-Rule Bill.</p> + +<p><i>Friday Night.</i>—<span class="sc">Conybeare</span> went out a-shearing, and came home +shorn. Asked leave to make personal explanation; House naturally +thought this would assume form of apology for attack on <span class="sc">Speaker</span>, +of which note was taken on Tuesday. Permission accordingly given. +Turned out nothing further from <span class="sc">Conybeare's</span> thoughts. First began +by scolding unnamed persons for not rising in his defence on Tuesday; +then proceeded to argue with Mr. G. and <span class="sc">Speaker</span> on point of order +involved in his earlier attack. Incidentally, as the <span class="sc">Speaker</span>, in +indignant tones, pointed out, he repeated the charges embodied in his +letter. House long listened, with amazing patience. But there are +limits to forbearance; at end of quarter of an hour the <span class="sc">Curse of +Camborne</span> had reached these; his letter declared by unanimous vote +to be a breach of privilege; a lame apology wrung from his unwilling +lips, under penalty of a week's suspension. "Curses," said +the Member for Sark, "come home to roost, no exception being made +in the case of <span class="sc">Camborne</span>." <i>Business done.</i>—None.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. R.'s Latest Observation.</span>—Our excellent friend was disappointed +with the Royal Bridal Procession. Finding the King +and Queen of <span class="sc">Denmark</span> in the procession, she naturally looked out +for <i>Hamlet</i>, and does not, to this hour, see why he should have been +left out of the play.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<table align="center" summary="transcriber note" width="auto" style="margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;"> +<tr> + <td class="note"> + +<h4>Transcriber's Note:</h4> + +<p>This issue contains some dialect. (Specifically page 17, in 'Robert at the +Manshun House').</p> + +<p>Page 13: 'A' corrected to 'At'. "At last, however, we managed to calm the +indignant ladies,..."</p> +<p>The correction is also indicated by dotted lines underneath.<br /> +Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p> + +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume +105, July 15th 1893, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON *** + +***** This file should be named 35666-h.htm or 35666-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/6/6/35666/ + +Produced by Lesley Halamek, Malcolm Farmer and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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