diff options
Diffstat (limited to '42477-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 42477-0.txt | 1299 |
1 files changed, 1299 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/42477-0.txt b/42477-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..69a8f8c --- /dev/null +++ b/42477-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1299 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42477 *** + +PUNCH VOL CVIII + +[Illustration: The Double Event. 1894.--1895.] + + LONDON. + + PUBLISHED AT THE OFFICE, 85, FLEET STREET, + + AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS + + 1895. + + * * * * * + + LONDON: + BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. + + * * * * * + +PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 108. + +JUNE 29, 1895. + + * * * * * + + +[Illustration: _A Midsummer Day-dream, and its waking Sequel._] + +It was the luncheon-hour at Lord's. Likewise it was exceeding hot, and +Mr. PUNCH, after an exciting morning's cricket, was endeavouring to +cool himself with an iced tankard, a puggreed "straw," and a fragrant +whiff. + +"Willow the King!" piped Mr. PUNCH, pensively. "Quite so! A merrier +monarch than the Second CHARLES is WILLIAM (GILBERT) the very First! +And no one kicks at King Willow, even in these democratic days. The +verdant, smooth-shaven lawn, when wickets are pitched, is your very +best 'leveller'--in one sense, though, in another, what stylish +RICHARD DAFT calls 'Kings of Cricket' ('by merit raised to that _good_ +eminence'), receive the crowd's loyal and most enthusiastic homage. +But, by Jove, the Harrow boys will want a new version of their +favourite cricket song, if prodigy be piled on prodigy, like Pelion +on Ossa, in the fashion to which the Doctor during the first month of +Summer in this year of Grace has accustomed us." + +"The 'Doctor's' throne has never been disputed by anyone outside +Bedlam," said a strong and sonorous voice. + +Mr. PUNCH looked up, and perceived before him a stalwart six-footer in +flannels, broad-belted at the equator, and wearing broad-brim'd silken +stove-pipe. + +"ALFRED MYNN, quoting 'the Old Buffer,' or I'm a Dutchman," said the +omniscient and ever-ready one. + + "'And, whatever fame and glory these and other bats may win, + Still the monarch of hard hitters, to my mind, was ALFRED MYNN; + With his tall and stately presence, with his nobly-moulded form, + His broad hand was ever open, his brave heart was ever warm'-- + +as PROWSE sang pleasantly." + +The Kentish Titan blushed--if Shades can with modesty suffuse. "You +know _everything_, of course, Mr. PUNCH," said he; "and therefore you +know that the object of my visit is _not_ to have my praises sung even +by you or the Poet PROWSE, but to back up that National Testimonial to +_the_ Cricketer of the century--and the 'centuries'--of which I'm +glad to hear whispers in the Elysian Fields, where--alas!--we do _not_ +pitch the stumps or chase the flying 'leathery duke' of Harrow song." + +"Well, it's a far cry from Hambledon to Downend," quoth Mr. PUNCH, +pensively; "but even the gods of 'the Hambledon Pantheon,' as +picturesque JOHN NYREN called them, might have admitted the Downend +Doctor as their Jove. Or, adopting his other figure, have made him the +King ARTHUR of their Round Table, _vice_ old RICHARD NYREN retired." + +"I see you read what is worth reading," responded the Kentish Big 'Un. +"DICK NYREN'S style was as sound and honest and brisk as the English +ale he lauded,--'barleycorn, such as would put the soul of three +butchers into one weaver.' But the great Gloucestershire gentleman is +worthy to bend the bow of Ulysses." + +"Or to wear the pads of ALFRED MYNN, which, I believe, were presented +to him," said Mr. PUNCH, cordially. + +"Ah! There is another and a bigger Presentation afoot, I understand, +thanks largely to a truly Gracious Prince," returned "the monarch +of hard hitters." "A knighthood? Well, that's as it may be! Quite +deserved indeed; but a 'King' hardly needs the addition of the lesser +honour, and indeed W. G. won his spurs on the tented field years and +years agone. But a National Testimonial! Faith, the Briton who grudges +a subscription to _that_ doesn't deserve to see a sixer run out, or +drink a flagon of genuine Boniface at the 'Bat and Ball' on Broad +Halfpenny. Only wish we old willow-wielders in the Elysian Fields +could contribute each our obolus. By Castor and Pollux, here he +comes!" + +Broad, bronzed, black-bearded, bear-pawed, bell-mouthed, beaming, in +loose-cut flannels and M. C. C. cap, the redoubtable Doctor entered. +'Twas a sight to see those two six-foot-odders shake hands! And to +hear the talk of the Cricket Heroes of two generations---- + + * * * * * + +"Hillo, Mr. PUNCH! Wake up, old man! Match over!" + +It was the veritable voice of the Gloucester Giant. But where was +the Pride of Kent? He came like a shadow in summer slumber, and so +departed. But WILLIAM GILBERT was at least satisfactorily solid. + +"Where are the Bats of yester year?" murmured the drowsy Sage. + +"Oh, still scoring--some of 'em," said the practical smiter, +cheerfully. "Keeping up a fair average, too." + +"What is yours just now, Doctor?" + +"Oh, ask DRUCE! _His_ tops it, I believe--for the present." + +"Ah, well! But the Century of Centuries, the Thousand of Merry May, +the suggested knighthood, the coming National Testimonial, H. R. H.'s +letter----" + +"I never saw a nicer letter, and I hope to see as good wherever I go," +interrupted the modest and taciturn giant, with a grin reminiscent +of _Wickets in the West_ and "the rapt oration flowing free," in a +fourfold iteration of a single sentence. + +"Better _before_ the stump than _on_ it, eh, WILLIAM?" smiled the +Sage, who had read his rollicking R. A. FITZGERALD, and understood +W. G.'s allusion. "Unlike the _other_ W. G., at present out in the +Baltic." + +"Ah, _he_ could give the bowling beans, in his own way, which +certainly isn't mine," said the Man of Many Centuries. + +"What a season!" exclaimed Mr. PUNCH, preparing to puff. + + "Centuries to right of us, | "Centuries all round us, + Centuries to left of us, | Volley and thunder! + +MYNN was here just now--in my vision. Wish you could have met him, as +I dreamed you did! _Par nobile fratrum!_ But even _he_ never hit +his hundred hundreds, though he played up to the age of fifty. Well, +WILLIAM mine, you've topped the toppers and cut all records. May the +National Testimonial do likewise. Wish you a sovereign reward for +every good hit with which you've pleased the populace--a '_quid_' for +every _quo_. And, to prove the sincerity of my love and admiration for +the greatest Cricketer of all time, I propose, my dear (prospective) +Sir WILLIAM GILBERT GRACE, K.G. (Knight of _the_ Game), to head that +same National Testimonial with a contribution outshining and out +summing all others, to wit my + + =One Hundred and Eighth Volume!=" + +[Illustration] + + + + + * * * * * + +PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 108, JANUARY 5, 1895. + +_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_ + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: Vol. CVIII] + + * * * * * + + + + +MR. PUNCH WELCOMES THE NEW YEAR. + + So, 'Ninety-Five, my boy, you've come at last! + Another year has gone, and I am here + To greet you, as your brothers in the past + Were greeted on their coming, year by year; + For it's always been my practice, Sir--a bit of _Punch's_ lore-- + Since the day that I was volumed, until now I'm fifty-four + + Aye, fifty-three New Years I've welcomed. This + I pray to Heaven in its arms may bear + A whole New Yearful of a nation's bliss-- + A world without a tear, without a care. + 'Tis thus that I have prayed, young Sir, full many years before; + But to know how oft I've prayed in vain, would make your young heart sore. + + The Year that's dead was better, sure, than some; + But even he brought with him strikes and war, + Whose ghastly horrors smote the soft heart numb + And wrung and chilled it to the very core. + 'Twas a villainous attention, this suffering and gore, + That we'd rather have dispensed with, from your brother 'Ninety-Four + + But even he, my lad, a jest could work, + And on occasion smile, and nod, and beck; + To England gave--a rising Son of York, + And gave to Ireland--Mr. GLADSTONE'S cheque! + Thus tickling Mr. BULL from smiles and laughter to a roar. + But hearty laughs like these, my friend, were few in 'Ninety-Four. + + And you, young shaver, what is it you bring? + Razor and soap, like shavers young and old-- + The soap to soothe, razor to cut and sting?-- + Will wedding-bell be heard, and death-knell toll'd? + You see, my lad, we're anxious as to what you have in store, + For there's still some things to put to rights bequeathed by Ninety-Four. + + In Parliament, no doubt, you'll make your game-- + In Camp, and Court, and County Council, too? + Make sport of love--make foul an honoured name-- + And all the little fun you're wont to do? + Well--take my tip. Just do your level best, remember! For + The blame, my son, lies at your own, not _Mr. Punch's_ door. + + So mind, young Sir, for _Mr. Punch's_ eye + Is cocked upon you through your little life. + Go--rule the world!--and if before you die + You fill the earth with joy instead of strife, + You'll be the first of all your race--for all the smiles they wore-- + That gave the country what she asked--from 0 to '94! + + * * * * * + +PROTEST FROM THE PLAYGROUND. + +Dear MR. PUNCH,--I know you sympathise with boys, and isn't it a jolly +shame the masters set us such awfully hard questions in exams.? My +Report has just come home, and my Pater has given me a fearful rowing, +and all because it says "WILKINS Terts. (that's me) has done badly in +Examinations, and does not take the trouble to use what intelligence +he possesses." My Pater threatens not to take me to the Pantymime, +and I hear it's awfully beefy this year! Well, we had a "History and +General Knowledge" paper, and one of the questions was this beastly +one, and of course I couldn't tackle it--"What, or where, are the +following:--'Imperium in Imperio, The Korea, Bimetallism, The Grand +Llama, Balance of Power, and One Man One Vote?'" I answered all right +about the Korea, because I kicked young SMITH under the table to +give me a tip about it, and he said it was the book the Turks use +in church; and I put that down, but all the other things floored me. +Please will you say what Bimetallism is? JONES Junior said afterwards, +in the playground, that it was a sort of lozenge, and ROBINSON +Senior said he didn't know what it was, but he knew his Pater was +a Bimetallist; and JONES said ROBINSON Senior's Pater must be a +confectioner then; and so ROBINSON punched JONES'S head; but what _is_ +it? And is it fair to ask us boys such questions? My Pater said at +breakfast the School Board was fond of sending out sirkulers. Do you +think they would send one to our Head-master, and ask him to stop such +rot? + + Your obedient young friend + + JACKY. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: SPORT IN COURT. + +["The Anti-Gambling League has decided to take proceedings against the +Jockey Club.... In the view of the League every member of the Jockey +Club is equally open to indictment."--_Morning Post._]] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A VIEW HALLOO. + +(_Hounds at fault._) + +_Whip_ (_bustling up to Young Hodge, who has just begun to wave his +cap and sing out lustily_). "NOW THEN, WHERE IS HE?" + +_Young H._ "YONDER, SIR! ACOMIN' ACROSS YONDER!" + +_Whip._ "GET OUT, WHY THERE AIN'T NO FOX THERE, STOOPID!" + +_Young H._ "NO, SIR; BUT THERE BE OUR BILLY ON T' JACKASS!"] + + * * * * * + +SPORT IN COURT; + + _Or, The New Year Dream of the National Anti-Gambling + Leaguer._ + + Oh! it must have been the grog, for I slumbered like a log, + And I dreamed--_such_ a dream! I was holding forth in court, + And the prisoners in the dock,--how the Sporting League 'twould shock!-- + Were the Princes, and the Nobles, and the Leading Lights of Sport. + A supreme, successful raid on the Jockey Club we'd made. + No mere stuffy, sordid set, of poor betting-men _this_ time, + No cheap winner-spotting snobs, but a lot of topping nobs, + And I had them on the hip, and I charged the lot with Crime! + It was prime to see a Prince at my language flush and wince, + And a Lord Chief Justice squirm, and a stern-faced Judge quite blench. + _But_--I could not fail to mark the demeanour of the Clerk, + Who looked on it _as a lark!_--and that Beak upon the bench-- + Ah! he had a mighty "beak," which I felt a wish to tweak-- + Had a wink in his left eye which seemed frivolous, if funny; + And he didn't seem to suit us, for we wished a stern-faced BRUTUS; + Nay, a ruthless RHADAMANTHUS were the big-wig for _my_ money. + Ah! it wanted resolution to conduct that prosecution, + With a Prince and several Dooks, and an Earl, a County Squire, + And a Mephistopheles, who sat lounging at his ease, + Whom the culprits all called "JIMMY," and seemed hugely to admire; + For although I ramped and raved, Beak and Prisoners behaved + In a fashion which seemed scornful, and assuredly was light; + And that Clerk--confound his mug, which looked strangely like a pug!-- + And the chap for the defence, with his eyes so brisk and bright, + They seemed all upon the grin, or almost, which was a sin, + And I'm sure I heard a Dook whisper in a Judge's ear, + "_Don't old Mulberry Nose look funny? I will bet you any money_----!--" + Well, I missed the wager's point; but oh, dear! oh dear!! _oh_ dear!!! + Think of betting--in a Court! And I thundered against Sport, + Which meant Gambling, more or less, and red ruin, and disgrace. + From the girls who, though they're loves, wager wickedly--in gloves, + To the Plunger Peer who shames his ancient race--to win a Race. + Ah! I think I "gave them beans." I'm uncertain what that means, + But the Lord Chief Justice whispered I was doing so--to "JIM"-- + And the phrase I overhead, and although it sounds absurd, + I felt it meant a compliment to me, compelled from him. + So I said "Sport may intrigue and set up a rival League + To our holy Anti-Gambling One; but Sport is a Foul Sink + We have pledged ourselves to purge with a besom and a scourge----" + But here that Punchian eye indulged in a prodigious wink, + Such a spasm of sheer fun, that I felt the case was done; + Court, Prisoners, Judge, assumed the guise of a colossal Joke! + My head appeared to swim, the wild vision did dislimn, + And with a shriek of bitter disappointment I--awoke! + + * * * * * + +"ANGLO-INDIAN."--We are indisposed to go the full length of agreement +with the learned Editors of the _New English Dictionary_ in their +study of the derivation of the objectionable word "damn." In the +interesting extract you inclose they remark: "The conjecture that the +word is the Hindi _d[=a]m_, _dawm_, an ancient copper coin, of which +1,600 went to a rupee (see YULE), is ingenious, but has no basis in +fact." That may be so. It is, nevertheless, a curious coincidence that +at the present time the steady declension of the money value of +the rupee, combined with its immoveable rating in the salary list, +produces in the Civil Service and the army in India a state of feeling +subject to which at least 1,600 dams go to a rupee. We much fear that, +under this provocation, our army in India is able to compete with +regiments earlier enrolled, who, you will remember, "swore terribly in +Flanders." + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: COMBINATION COSTUMES FOR COVENT GARDEN. + +"THE TWENTY-FIRST OF DECEMBER!" + +"WHAT NONSENSE YOU DO TALK. HOW DO YOU MAKE THAT OUT?" + +"WHY, ANY FOOL COULD SEE THAT. THE SHORTEST DEY AND THE LONGEST +KNIGHT, OF COURSE!"] + + * * * * * + +NEW YEAR NOTIONS. + +(_By an Old Buffer._) + + "There is nothing new under the sun," someone says; + I wish that there _wasn't_, by Jingo! + It seems to me _everything_'s New in these days, + And nothing is genuine old stingo. + A New Poet turns up about once a week + (According to log-rolling rumour); + And there's the New Politics, all grab and sneak; + And something dull dubbed the New Humour! + The New Art; I'm certain _it_ comes from Old Nick, + It's so diabolic and dirty. + Faith! some of their Novelties make me feel sick, + And most of them make me feel "shirty." + The New Year!--well, that is as old as the hills. + The New Leaf--we annually turn it. + Ah! if the New Newness would banish Old Ills. + Not e'en an Old Fogey would spurn it. + New Year, give us books that are healthy and gay, + And Art that's not impish or queer, Sir! + And _if_ you'll but cart the _New Woman_ away, + You _will_ be a Happy New Year, Sir! + + * * * * * + +THE MODERN THEATRE LAUGH. + +Dear MR. PUNCH,--I crave the hospitality of your columns under the +following circumstances. The other night I went to a burlesque. Being +a man of modest means, I contented myself with paying half-a-crown, +for which sum I was able not only to sit with the plebs in the pit, +but to see Society in the stalls. + +Will it be believed, at the end of this so-called nineteenth century, +that songs were sung and things were said which made those everywhere +around me _laugh?_ Sadder still, two-thirds of those I saw were +women!--women, who are our mothers and sisters, when they are not our +wives and sweethearts! + +I haven't the least notion where the harm in all this comes in, but +I'm confident there's some somewhere. In any event it's a serious sign +of the times; which reminds me that I should have sent this to the +_Times_, if I had not thought the recent Society-play correspondence +sufficient for one season. I'm so afraid the dear old _Thunderer_ will +drop the telegraphic news and take to _Telegraphic_ Correspondence. + +In any case, I invite letters on "The Seriousness of Laughter." + + Yours distressedly, + + A DI-TRI-SYLLABIC PITTITE. + + [No letters on this subject will be inserted.--ED.] + + * * * * * + +NEW YEAR. + + "Ring out, wild bells." We hope that you, + With '94 that's rung out, + Will kindly ring out just a few + Of all those things entitled "new" + Which plagued us till quite mad we grew + As mad as dog with tongue out. + + Those novelties! The newest kind-- + With turned up nose and weird, slee- + -py eyes, that told of vacant mind, + And monstrous chignon massed behind-- + Were those appalling things designed + By Mr. AUBREY BEARDSLEY. + + Yes, "things"; for nought of human shape, + However strangely bizarre, + Is there portrayed; there's not an ape, + That feeds on cocoa-nut or grape, + Between Morocco and the Cape, + So hideous as these are. + + For goodness' sake, don't let us see + New Art which courts disaster! + We much prefer to Mr. B. + VELASQUEZ, REMBRANDT, even P. + P. RUBENS or VANDYKE, for we + Like oldness in a master. + + And then "New Humour." Heavens, why + It's but a pleasure killer! + A cause of weary yawn and sigh, + Which makes us almost long to fly + To those old jokes collected by + A certain Mr. MILLER. + + In politics Newcastle, too, + With programme was prophetic; + And now Leeds leads, and shows who's who. + The Grand Old Man--there's age for you!-- + Has found much better things to do, + Not prosy but poetic. + + But all the things, so new in time, + Are nothing to the woman, + Who now is "new," and seeks to climb + To heights which seem to her sublime; + (Excuse the execrable rhyme) + She is indeed a rum 'un. + + Of course we know that youth is sweet; + Old women are not charming; + But no old woman we could meet, + With featless form and formless feet, + This wild New Woman now could beat, + She's perfectly alarming. + + Ring out, wild bells, wild belles like these + New-fangled fancies screaming; + Ring in the woman bound to please, + A lady, always at her ease, + Not manlike woman, by degrees + More man that woman seeming. + + Old '94, who now has fled, + Encouraged blatant boldness + In things called "new," as we have said; + New '95, now he is dead, + Might bring some things which are instead + Remarkable for oldness. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A VITAL QUESTION. + +(_Asked at a Penny Reading._) + + "Who will stand on either hand, + And keep the bridge with me?"] + + * * * * * + +"SHOULD CHRISTMAS BE ABOLISHED?" + + [A symposium on the above question appears in the December + Number of _The Idler_.] + + With what philosophy sublime + The institutions are discussed, + Which foolish men of olden time + Were well content to take on trust! + "Is life one great mistake?" we cry, + "Our modern teachers deem it so;" + "Man's place shall woman occupy?" + And now this last--"Shall Christmas go?" + + They mock at any plea for mirth, + With fine derision they allude + To any wish for peace on earth + As just a pulpit platitude; + This Christmas-time, it seems, is fraught + With fancies anything but clever; + The lessons that CHARLES DICKENS taught + Are obsolete, and gone for ever! + + They tell us, in their stead, to praise + The jokes on seasonable ills, + The epigrams on quarter-days, + The _jeux d'esprit_ on mud and bills; + But as for honest glee and cheer, + Since every cause for joy's demolished, + Why, Christmas, too, it's amply clear, + Should be left out--in fact, "abolished." + + Well, let them talk; to please themselves + By all means let them demonstrate + That fairies, Santa Claus, and elves + Are manifestly out-of-date. + Well, let them talk; and find a joy + In cynical philosophy, + But every English girl and boy + Will give their empty words the lie! + + Nor only these: In every land + When Christmas brings, to brighten life, + The sturdy grip of hand with hand, + The softened heart, the ended strife,-- + Then air your pessimistic views, + Then ask again, "Shall Christmas go?" + And find your answer, if you choose, + In one emphatic, hearty--"NO!" + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "LOOK WHAT I'VE BOUGHT YOU FOR A CHRISTMAS BOX!"] + + * * * * * + +THE CHRONICLES OF A RURAL PARISH. + +VIII.--AFTER THE POLL. + +I am overwhelmed with congratulations, from all classes, from all +sections, from all ranks, and I am acclaimed on all hands as a worthy +head man for a Mudford, if not yet a model, village. Not the least +welcome have been the communications which have reached me from those +who have made my acquaintance in these published Chronicles. The mayor +of a borough whose charter dates well back into the beginning of the +second half of the present century, wrote to say that he is emboldened +by the fact that his wife's maiden name commenced with a W to write to +tell me how rejoiced he is to hear of my success. A gentleman writes +from "The Burning Plains of the Sahara" to say that he is always proud +of the triumphs of a TIMOTHY. (My daughter points out that this is +clearly a forgery, since the Sahara mail isn't in till next week. +But I can't go into that.) Then there is a very important letter from +Birmingham, of which I will only say that WINKINS, who has backed many +a Bill, may yet live to indorse a Programme. I may here add that there +has been an attempt in some quarters to decry these Chronicles as +absurd and imaginary. My Birmingham correspondent describes them as +"an important picture of things as they actually are." He is right. I +am as serious as a Prime Minister. + +My wife is back--which reminds me that I received a post-card, which +his had the effect usually produced by a bomb. Here is what was on +it:-- + +AFTER THE POLL. + + After the poll is over, + After the voting's done, + Mudford will be much duller, + No more election fun. + But ONE man will be more happy, + Not so disturbed in his soul (?), + WINKINS'S wife is come back now-- + After the Poll! + +Of course, I should have destroyed the card at once--but I was out +when it came, and MARIA read it first! What happened was a good +instance of the monstrous way in which one man's sin is another man's +punishment. In this case (1) it was my wife who had persisted in +going away, and (2) it was an unknown post-cardist who had written the +insulting doggerel. Yet I paid the entire penalty. + +The great puzzle--who is the seventh councillor?--is still unsolved. +All that has happened so far is that Mrs. LETHAM HAVITT and Mrs. ARBLE +MARCH are no longer on speaking terms. It has leaked out that Mrs. +MARCH had more plumpers than Mrs. HAVITT, whereupon ructions--as +JACKY, who has just come home for the Christmas holidays says. I think +he's quite right. + +Our Parish Council meets next Monday--on the 7th. With the New Year we +commence our reign of beneficent activity. I need hardly say that it +is certain that I am to be Chairman. My position on the poll suggests +it, common decency demands it, moreover I expect it. I refuse to +believe that I shall be disappointed. + + * * * * * + +A GLAD NEW YEAR. + + _A Reflecting Roundel._ + + "A Glad New Year!" Why, bless my heart, how fast + The time flies by! The year's no sooner here + Than it is gone and numbered with the past-- + A Glad New Year! + + For some the sun shines bright, the sky is clear, + No threatening clouds o'erhead exist to cast + A single shadow. Yet, ah me, how drear + The sad estate in which some lives are passed! + The day when none are sad may not be near, + But then--and not till then--there'll be at last + A Glad New Year! + + * * * * * + +UP-TO-DATE VERSION FOR MATURE VIRGINS AND PREMATURELY GRIZZLED WORKING +MEN.--They whom the gods _don't_ love, _dye_ young! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE PROBLEM PLAY. + +_New Woman_ (_with the hat_). "NO! _MY_ PRINCIPLE IS SIMPLY _THIS_--IF +THERE'S A _DEMAND_ FOR THESE PLAYS, IT MUST BE _SUPPLIED!_" + +_Woman not New_ (_with the bonnet_). "PRECISELY! JUST AS WITH THE +BULL-FIGHTS IN SPAIN!" + + [_Scores._ +] + + * * * * * + +THE OLD FERRYMAN'S NEW FARE. + +AIR--"_Twickenham Ferry._" + + O-hoi-ye-ho! Ho-ye-ho! Who's for the ferry? + (_The moon sails on high, and the snow's coming down_,) + A light gleams afar, and the church chimes are merry, + Their message goes pealing o'er country and town. + The ferryman's grey, and the ferryman's old; + But the passenger's young, and the passenger's bold; + And he's fresh as a pippin, and brown as a berry, + He laughs at the night, and he heeds not the cold. + O-hoi-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho-Ho! + + O-hoi-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho! "I'm for the ferry!" + (_The moon rides on high, and the snow's coming down_,) + "Sure it's late that it is, but I care not a penny; + I'll brave the rough river and winter's grim frown." + He'd his hands in his pockets, and oh! he looked brave + As the toughtest old tar who e'er ventured the wave. + With his cheeks like a rose, and his lips like a cherry, + "Ah! sure, and you're welcome! _Your_ presence _all_ crave!" + O-hoi-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho-Ho! + + O-hoi-ye-ho, Ho! One flits slow from the ferry, + (_The moon rides on high, and the snow's coming down_,) + With shadowy form, and with footfall unsteady; + You'd think 'twas a ghost at the dawn-signal flown. + The ferryman turns on the phantom a glance, + But the eyes of the youngster there glitter and dance, + And with youth like a star in the stern of the wherry + There is but one watchword for Time,--tis "Advance!" + O-hoi-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho-Ho! + + O-hoi-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho! Old is that ferry, + (_The moon rides on high, and the snow's drifting down_,) + Still, older that steersman, though stalwart and steady, + And many a journey and fare hath he known. + For the Ferryman's Time, and his fares are the Years, + And they greet him with smiles, and oft leave him in tears, + And the youth who to-night takes his seat in that wherry, + Knows not how 'tis freighted with hopes and with fears. + O-hoi-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho-Ho! + + O-hoi-ye-ho-Ho! 'NINETY-FIVE tries the ferry, + (_The moon rides on high, and the snow silvers down_,) + There's a smile on his lips, and his laughter is merry; + Right little he bodeth of Fortune's dark frown. + But the Ferryman's old, and the Ferryman knows + That River of Years, with its joys and its woes; + But we'll wish the young fare a snug seat in Time's wherry, + And sun on his way, though he starts 'midst the snows. + O-hoi-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho-Ho!! + + * * * * * + +THE WINTER ACADEMY OF 1995. + +(_An Elegant Extract from a Future Development._) + +The Committee this year has wisely been recruited from the Master Bill +Posters' Guild; the old-fashioned method of "hanging" is abandoned, +and advertisements are now "stuck" on the walls by the New "B" +Gum Process (for which Sir J. MILLBOARD contributes a charming +illustration No. 20,000). During a preliminary survey, we were +astonished by the blatant excellence of the exhibition. "_A Bicycle +Made for Five_," by Mr. LOWTHER R. CADE (No. 2006), is especially +delicate and sudden; the tone is aluminium throughout, and although no +children are represented as bodily on the machine, a Kineto-Phonograph +inserted in the axle dexterously responds to a penny in the slot--when +the youthful athletes are both seen and _heard_ in the adjacent +horse-pond. "_Gregory the Grateful_" (No. 612) fully sustains Dr. +UTTERSON'S reputation for historical advertisement; by pressing a +spring the Pope actually swallows the powder, and seems to like it. +It is quite equal to this Master's "_Columbus in Wall Street_" of +last year. Mr. G. MORLAND'S "_Carter's Pill-gathering in the Old Kent +Road_" (No. 69) is too realistic for modern taste; the fine oaks in +the background are absolutely hidden by placards; but Lord BOXALL'S +"_While there is Life there is Soap_" (No. 15,000z) is truly +impressionist; the life is full of soap, and the soap full of life. In +"_Glycerine_" (unnumbered), by Miss TOPSY TURVY (the Presidentess), +we have a fine example of "_The Newer Symbolism_,"--a patent revolving +motor displays its liquidity to equal advantage upside down. + +Altogether the show is calculated to promote business--which is +the true end of Art; it also opens out infinite possibilities for +house-decoration. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE NEW PASSENGER.] + + * * * * * + +AN "OLD MASTER'S" GROWL. + +_Burlington House, January 1, 1895._ + + It's all very pretty to hang us up here, + And pretend that you worship our genius and paint; + You fancy it's "Cultchah" that rings in the year-- + But it ain't! + + You find us, you say, "a delight to the eye;" + You exclaim that "such painting you never did see!" + You "do" us--then scamper below with the cry-- + "Cup o' tea!" + + "Old Masters," indeed! It's "Young Students" with you-- + To their show in your thousands you flock in the spring; + But of Me you exclaim, as you come in my view-- + "What a thing!" + + Just six months ago in these rooms you'd declare + It was "exquisite Art" that you saw; you forgot + That you'd said that of us. Bah! What do you care? + Not a jot! + + Of course, there are some who are men of the day, + Who belong to the band of the talented few; + Right gladly we put forth our hand, as we say-- + "How de do?" + + For example, young RAPHAEL--my excellent friend-- + And the later Italians and Germans as well, + They consider Sir FREDERIC LEIGHTON no end + Of a swell. + + Then REYNOLDS declared, in the course of a chat, + The "_Cherry Ripe_" picture of MILLAIS to be + As good as "_Penelope Boothby_." What's that? + "_So does he?_" + + VAN DE VELDE asserts he knows less of a wave, + It's colour and drawing, than MOORE at his best.-- + But when of your COLES and your HUNTERS you rave, + I protest! + + Talk of TITIAN and WATTS in a breath--which you may; + Young GILBERT and SWAN you may praise if you will; + But the thought of the annual summer display + Makes me ill! + + Yet that's what the mass of the people enjoyed. + And the few who come here, both the great and the small, + Mostly come to be seen. What--you think I'm annoyed? + Not at all! + + We expect it.--I said just as much to VANDYCK-- + There's but one in a hundred that comes who'll descry + The beauty of Art. It's the sham I dislike. + Well--good-bye! + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + +HOW TO WRITE AN EXTRA NUMBER. + +(_An Up-to-date fragment for Yuletide._) + +The author was hard at work. He heeded not the snow that beat against +the window, nor the wintry wind that whistled through the leafless +trees. The fire burned brightly in the grate, and the shadows on the +walls seemed to inspire him with seasonable tales. He wrote for +dear life, as his copy was late, and he knew that the printers were +clamouring for more and more from his facile pen. Every now and again +he glanced at a volume of drawings (there were many sketches in the +book on his desk), and, pausing for a moment, seemed to be lost in +thought. Then he would resume his labours with fresh energy. Very +rarely he would murmur to himself, and then his words would be few. + +[Illustration] + +"Confusion!" he muttered on one such occasion; "how the Dickens (or +should it be Thackeray?) am I to get in the Christmas waits?" He +pondered for a moment, and then his eyes glistened with delight. +"Eureka! I have it! They must appear in a dream. Yes, that will get +over the difficulty, they must appear in a dream!" + +And then he continued his writing. During the whole day he had been +hard at work. His breakfast was scarcely touched. He waved away the +servant girl who would have set before him his lunch. It was now close +upon his customary dinner hour, but still he insisted upon isolation. +Even the wife of his devotion did not dare to come near him. She knew +that he would not speak to her, but only cast at her a glance. But +such a glance! A terrible tirade compressed into a solitary look! + +The short day waned and passed away. The evening quickly changed into +night. There were cheery songs without, as it was Christmas Eve, when +all men were thinking of wassail, and holly and mistletoe. Even the +performers in the forthcoming pantomime were nearing the close of +their last rehearsal, when they would go back to their homes to count +the mince pies and glance for the last time at the cooking of the +familiar plum pudding. + +At length the writer was interrupted, and by his old familiar friend. + +"I will not disturb you," said the caller, taking up a newspaper and +commencing its perusal; "I know how busy you are, and will be silent +as Cornhill on a Sunday." + +[Illustration] + +The writer nodded and continued his work. His pen moved quicker and +quicker until at length it stopped. + +"Hurrah!" shouted the author. "At last my task is completed. I have +brought in every cut and got through the necessary number of lines. +Yes, my dear old comrade, I have done. The printer will be satisfied, +and the publisher will cease to be alarmed. And now, my dear fellow, +I can enjoy Christmas conscious of the fact that I have thoroughly +earned a holiday." + +"Ah!" observed the visitor glancing at the recently-written pages; "I +see you have been writing something for Yuletide." + +"Yuletide!" exclaimed the author. "Why, that was accomplished ages +ago. No, my dear fellow, I have just finished a summer number timed to +appear in August. I shan't think of touching the work of next year's +Christmas until April!" + + * * * * * + +"YOU CAME TO TEA." + + In spite of Fate invincible, + Of lack of wit, and lack of gold, + Of pictures that too cheaply sell, + Or pictures never sold, + Oh, yet, when I am old and grey, + If old and grey I live to be, + I shall recall one happy day, + The day you came to tea! + + You came. Of course I am aware + You did not, could not, come alone. + You were between the millionaire + And a stout chaperon. + My work they called to criticise, + But what they said I do not know, + For gleams of laughter in your eyes + That seemed to come and go. + + The hurrying moments how I rued! + There flashed a scheme into my brain. + With unexpected tea, I would + My visitors detain. + The ever-willing household slave + Into my service I impressed; + To her my tea, my gold I gave, + She vowed to do the rest. + + That tea was strong, for all my hoard, + Some half a pound, two shilling tea, + Into the teapot had been poured-- + Only the milk--ah me! + So pallid, comfortless a stream, + Into your cup I saw it glide. + For a true jug of country cream + I felt I would have died! + + But with the cake I was content, + Its richness no one could mistake, + For my whole store the slave had spent + On a superior cake. + 'Twas all in layers, almonded, + And crowned with white and rosy ice: + "What a delightful cake!" you said; + "But, please, a smaller slice!" + + I flushed and stammered. I suspect + A pound I'd cut you unaware. + On what I did could I reflect + When you were sitting there? + That revel, ah, how soon 'twas o'er! + How swiftly came the moment when + After my guests I shut the door, + I mounted to my den. + + Then down I sat beside the wall, + And, feeling doubtful and amazed, + I strove your accent to recall + As at your chair I gazed. + I heard your soft laugh echo through + The dingy room grown dear to me, + Where now was silence; and I knew + That you had been to tea! + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE SHAKSPEARE LESSON. + +_Holiday Tutor_ (_quoting_)-- + + "'LETTING I DARE NOT WAIT UPON I WOULD, + LIKE THE POOR CAT IN THE ADAGE.' + + NOW, GEORGE, WHAT IS AN ADAGE?" + +_George._ "A PLACE TO KEEP CATS IN!"] + + * * * * * + +THE POLITE GUIDE TO THE CIVIL SERVICE. + + (_By an Affable Philosopher and Courteous Guide._) + +HOW TO RECEIVE A DEPUTATION. + +It does not take very long to make yourself quite at home as Secretary +of the Public Squander Department--the office I will suppose you to +be filling. You will find everything ready to your hand. All you will +have to remember is this--the golden rule of the Service--that what +was done last year, should be followed this, and arranged for next. +Ministries may come and Cabinets may go, but the P. S. D. continues +for ever. The policy of the office must never be disturbed. If it has +been the custom (say) to put orange-trees in the open spaces under +the control of the Department out to bloom in February, under no +consideration whatever must the date be changed. It may be advanced +(generally in the newspapers when there is nothing more interesting +ripe for discussion) that July would be the better month. It may be +declared that an orange-tree taken from a hothouse and thrust into +the uncertain atmosphere of the Metropolis, and indeed the provinces, +stands less chance of weathering that climate in the second month of +the year than it would in the seventh. That may be very true, but +what has been done by the Public Squander Department once should be +repeated for ever. If an alteration has to be made it must not be +accomplished except "under-pressure." Questions must be asked in +the House, returns moved for, and all the rest of it. So long as the +alteration can be resisted, it is the duty of every member of the +Department to stand shoulder to shoulder to oppose. You will find a +case in point in the matter of your own pet grievance the condition +of "Milestones." You will recollect (if you have a good memory) that +"Milestones" were the steps of the staircase that led you from the +hall of Parliament to the comfortable apartments reserved for the +special use of the Secretary of the P. S. D. + +[Illustration] + +"I do not think we need bother about those Milestones," you will say +to the Chief Clerk after you have got accustomed to your messengers +and have chosen your easiest of easy chairs; "I daresay there are many +matters of more pressing importance." + +The courteous official to whom you have made the suggestion will +readily acquiesce, and then inform you that a deputation are anxious +to see you upon the subject. And here you will find one of the +disadvantages inseparably connected with making a question exclusively +your own. The moment you come into power you are expected to do +something. It is of course unreasonable, but none the less for that +unavoidable. + +[Illustration] + +"I think you had better see them, Sir," the Chief Clerk will observe. +"They know the ropes fairly well, and I do not think we shall get much +peace until you have got rid of them. Of course, we have sent them +travelling a bit, but they have got back to us at last." + +"Sent them a--travelling?" you will query. + +"Well, yes. We have referred them to this department, where they have +been asked to apply to that. They have been passed on from office to +office until they have come back to us. It is the rule of the game. +And now I think the time has arrived when you should see them in +person." + +Of course, you have nothing to do but to take your subordinate's +advice. It is one of the regulations of the Civil Service that the +tail wags the dog. It stands to reason that a man who has grown grey +in the Department is more likely to know the business of the bureau +better than you who have just joined. So the spokesman of the +deputation receives a polite communication informing him that you +will be pleased to see him and his friends at such and such a date. +Of course, you are furnished with the names of the friends in advance, +and your private secretary (your right-hand man) makes it his special +business to post you up in all that is necessary about them. The day +arrives, and with it the deputation. If the House is sitting, you can +see the Members in your own room. It looks well if you can show your +accosters how small a chamber you occupy, and how hard at work you +have to be at all hours of the day and night. Failing a meeting in +Parliament, you can receive them in the Department itself. In this +case contrive, if possible, to see them in official uniform. Chat with +them after you have been to a _levée_, or Cabinet, or something of +that sort. It gives you a distinct advantage if you can overawe +them with the glories of a well-feathered cocked-hat, and many yards +(chiefly on the back of your coat) of gold lace. + +You will have, of course, in attendance upon you several heads of +departments. These gentlemen will say nothing, but will look wonders. +If you are at loss for figures or facts, you will glance at them and +make a bold statement. That daring declaration will, of course, be +qualified with the announcement that it is made "to the best of your +belief." You will turn your face towards the heads, and they will +receive your mute appeal with sympathetic attention. They will not +say anything, but will, I repeat, look wonders. They will not be +comprehensible, but merely convincing. + +Chairs will have been set for the members of the deputation. Some +of your visitors will be personally known to you, and these you will +greet with effusion. Remember that you must be nothing if not genial. +Single out for special cordiality the spokesman. Not, of course, +one of your parliamentary colleagues who is going to introduce your +visitors to you, but the principal member of the deputation. If you +have to contradict him in the course of the interview you will have +the sympathy of his colleagues, and they will be glad to see one who +has the pleasure of your acquaintance (why should he have it more than +they?) soundly snubbed. After every one has got comfortably into their +places, you will ask if the Press are to be present. If the reply is +in the affirmative (as it most probably will be, as all deputations +like to see themselves in print), continue your generalities, and say +with a good-natured laugh, "that you must be on your guard." If the +interview is not to be reported, then you require no further guide. +You can say or do almost anything in reason. But assuming that the +reporters are to be present (and here it may be observed that, if your +private secretary knows his business, the gentlemen of the Press will +to some extent be "selected"), you must be more careful. + +You will listen to your parliamentary colleague's speech of +introduction and the address of your friend the spokesman with many +silent tokens of goodwill. When there is a trace of a compliment you +will smile and bow, and if any figures are introduced you will ask to +have them repeated, and make a note of them on a piece of paper. +It does not matter what kind of paper you use, as the piece will +subsequently disappear into the basket reserved for valueless +documents. + +You will ask several questions, and, when the spokesman has completed +his harangue, you will look round to see if anyone desires to follow +him. If there is any hesitation, commence your reply at once. But if +anyone is ready, let him speak. It is far better that the eloquence +of the deputation should come out (like the measles) rather than be +suppressed. When your visitors have had their turn, then will come +yours. + +Of course the less you say the better. I do not mean in words, but +in purport. If you have time you can chatter for an hour, but that +chatter should be absolutely innocuous. Remember not to give yourself +away. Mind, you are bound in office by nothing you have uttered out +of it. Be genial. Indulge in small jokes. Let them be at your own +expense. Complain that you are powerless. Explain that had you your +way you would do all sorts of good things, but "that tyrant, the +Chancellor of the Exchequer," interferes. It is not the fault of the +Public Squander Department; but the crime of the Treasury. Wind up by +assuring the members of the deputation of your personal sympathy, and +assure them that you will take "an early opportunity of laying the +representations they have made before your colleagues." + +By following these directions you may be sure that you will gain +golden opinions. You will be thanked with effusion for your courtesy, +and your visitors will retire entirely satisfied with the reception +that has been accorded to them. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "I SAY, TIBBINS, OLD MAN, IS IT TRUE THAT YOUR WIFE HAS +BEEN ASKED TO RESIGN AT THE OMPHALE CLUB?" + +"WELL, YES; YOU SEE THE COMMITTEE FOUND THAT SHE'D BEEN GUILTY OF +UNGENTLEMANLY CONDUCT."] + + * * * * * + +TO ALTHEA.--(Out of Town.) + + If ever this message should find you, + I think that perhaps you will guess + Who sent it, in hopes to remind you + Of one who has not your address, + And who if he had dare not use it, + The chaperon's eye to offend. + ALTHEA, yet do not refuse it, + The humble good wish of a friend! + + To give you a New Year's greeting, + Explain, what I cannot explain, + How your look, at our very last meeting, + Is photographed firm on my brain. + Without you, I'm twenty years older; + And yet I'm glad you're away. + For each day it grows darker and colder, + The sky is a smoky brown-grey. + + ALTHEA--I am weary of winter + Without you! The fogs never clear. + My missive I send to the printer + To tell you how dull it is here. + I hope you are faring far better, + I trust, as I bid you adieu, + That you may divine that this letter + Is really intended for you! + + * * * * * + +"RICHARD HIMSELF AGAIN." + +"Return again _Whittington_, Pantomime of London" were the words to +the chimes that on or about Boxing Day must have been ringing in the +ears of Mr. Ex-Sheriff HARRIS, Knight, and spectacle maker from morn +to dawn. This is not the first time that our own DRURIOLANUS has +chosen the intermittent Lord Mayor (for did not _Dick_ pass the chair +thrice?) as the subject for his annual. That he has been wise in +making the selection has been proved by the result. Sir AUGUSTUS (with +the assistance of his literary colleagues, Messrs. H. HAMILTON and +WALTER RALEIGH; and his chief of the staff, Mr. ARTHUR COLLINS) has +beaten his own record. Nothing better than the present show has been +seen at Drury Lane within the recollection of the existing generation. +And it is highly probable that the memory of man does not, anent times +past, run to the contrary. + +[Illustration: "Listening to the Belles."] + +The ex-sheriff has begun a new lease of the old house, and seemingly +has taken the success he has so long established on the premises as +one of the fixtures. A most excellent commencement to a contract that +should be highly satisfactory to both manager and public. + +[Illustration: "Haul by the Sea."] + +So much for pantomimic things in general, and now to turn to details +in particular. The book of the words is decidedly a superior article. +Hitherto when the Drury Lane Annual has contained a fault the mistake +has been discovered in "the cackle." On former occasions it has been +said (by the dyspeptic and consequently disappointed) that "the +turns of the halls" have been too numerous. Those excellent comedians +Messrs. DAN LENO and HERBERT CAMPBELL have sometimes been a little too +much in evidence to suit every taste. In 1894-95 they have plenty to +do, but only enough to satisfy the most fastidious. They are quite +as amusing as usual, and when the curtain falls before "the +transformation" people are rather inclined to ask for more than to +say that they have had quite enough. This is the token of a good sign. +Then the Brothers GRIFFITHS are particularly pleasing. That member of +the brethren who plays the cat is at once comic and pathetic. He makes +_Malkin_ quite a loveable character. Then Miss ADA BLANCHE, as _Dick_, +is altogether a hero of romance. She may sing the old songs of the +halls, but she tempers her comic vocalism with a touch of sentiment +that makes the whole world kin after it has had its grin. Miss +MARIE MONTROSE, too, is winsome, and so are Misses AGNES HEWITT, EVA +WESTLAKE, and MADGE LUCAS. In fact, the opening is well played by +"all concerned." It is a wonder that, after the first innings of +the morning performance, they should have scored so heavily in +the evening's representation. But score they do, and are likely to +"continue the movement" until Easter. + +The scenery must be seen. It baffles description. Who could paint +the sun? Who could report the wonders of the solar system? A first +impressionist would declare that the gorgeous production of colour, +light, and form, could only be adequately suggested by the word +"HARRIS." So the entire audience thought on Boxing Night. Let it be +known that after the wonderful "Feast of Lanterns" Scene, Sir AUGUSTUS +was called to the front three or four times, and might have "gone on" +indefinitely so far as the house was concerned. Indeed, the enthusiasm +showed no sign of diminution when the lessee had made his exit. Still +the Gallery called for "'ARRIS!" still the Stalls expressed their +opinion by the gentle tapping of well-gloved hands. Nay more, there +were members of the superior classes who not only rapped out their +applause, but roared with laughter. From first to last, thanks to a +thoroughly appreciative (and yet discriminating) audience, the play +went admirably. + +[Illustration: "Cook and Gaze."] + +So the bells will ring for _Whittington_ for a long time to come. And +where the belles are there will be found the beaux. To continue the +association of ideas, the shot of Sir AUGUSTUS has ended in a hit. It +does not take a prophet to predict that _Dick_ will not only be the +centre of numberless _matinées_, but the hero of at least a hundred +nights. _Dick_ will listen to his bells until Easter changes the +music. + + * * * * * + +WHY DOST THOU SING? + + Why dost thou sing? Is it because thou deemest + We love to hear thy sorry quavers ring? + My poor deluded girl, thou fondly dreamest! + Why dost thou sing? + + Why dost thou sing? I ask thy sad relations-- + They shake their heads, and answer with a sigh. + They can explain thy wild hallucinations + No more than I. + + Why dost thou sing? Why wilt thou never weary + Why wilt thou warble half a note too flat? + I can conceive no reasonable theory. + To tell me that. + + Why dost thou sing? O Lady, have we ever + In thought or action done thee any wrong? + Then wherefore should'st thou visit us for ever + With thy one song? + + Why dost thou sing?--None offers a suggestion, + None dares to do so desperate a thing, + And Echo only answers to my question, + "Why dost thou sing?" + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + += = denotes Old English Font, large size, bold. + +Page 1: 'exams.' is an abbreviation. + +Page 6: Comma moved to correct place after 'PLAYS'. + +"--If there's a _demand_ for these Plays, it must be _supplied!_" + +Page 6: 'toughtest' may be correct (poetic licence), or a typo for +'toughest'. Retained. + +"As the toughtest old tar who e'er ventured the wave." + +Page 11: 'If' corrected to 'It'. + +"It looks well if you can show your accosters how small a chamber you +occupy,..." + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, +January 5th, 1895, by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42477 *** |