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diff --git a/15196-h/15196-h.htm b/15196-h/15196-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bcaaf23 --- /dev/null +++ b/15196-h/15196-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2058 @@ +<!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, September 10, 1892.</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[*/ + + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .drama {margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .drama p {margin: 1em 0em 0em 0em;; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} + .drama p.i2 {margin: 0; margin-left: 1em;} + .drama p.i4 {margin: 0; margin-left: 2em;} + .drama p.i6 {margin: 0; margin-left: 3em;} + .drama p.i8 {margin: 0; margin-left: 4em;} + .drama p.i10 {margin: 0; margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + --> + /*]]>*/ + </style> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 103, +September 10, 1892, 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, Vol. 103, September 10, 1892 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 28, 2005 [EBook #15196] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 103.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>September 10, 1892.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" + id="page109"></a>[pg 109]</span> + + <h2>WHY I DON'T WRITE PLAYS.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>From the Common-place Book of a Novelist.</i>)</h4> + + <p>Because it is so much pleasanter to read one's work than to + hear it on the Stage.</p> + + <p>Because Publishers are far more amiable to deal with than + Actor-Managers.</p> + + <p>Because "behind the scenes" is such a disappointing + place—except in Novels.</p> + + <p>Because why waste three weeks on writing a Play, when it + takes only three years to compose a Novel?</p> + + <p>Because Critics who send articles to Magazines inviting one + to contribute to the Stage, have no right to dictate to us.</p> + + <p>Because a fairly successful Novel means five hundred pounds, + and a fairly successful Play yields as many thousands—why + be influenced by mercenary motives?</p> + + <p>Because all Novelists hire their pens in advance for years, + and have no time left for outside labour.</p> + + <p>And last, and (perhaps) not least, Why don't I send in a + Play? Because I <i>have</i> tried to write <i>one</i>, and find + I can't quite manage it!</p> + <hr /> + + <p>According to recent accounts, the attitude of the Salvation + Army in Canada may be fairly described as "Revolting."</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/109-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/109-1.png" + alt="EQUIVOCAL." /></a> + + <h3>EQUIVOCAL.</h3> + + <p><i>Rising Young Physician</i> (<i>who cured so many + Patients in last year's Epidemic</i>). "NOT MUCH CHANCE OF + MORE INFLUENZA IN ENGLAND <i>THIS</i> WINTER, I FANCY!"</p> + + <p><i>His Wife.</i> "LET US HOPE FOR THE BEST, + DEAREST!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>A DIARY OF THE DEAD SEASON.</h2> + + <h4>(<i>Suggested by the Contents Bills.</i>)</h4> + + <p><i>Monday.</i>—First appearance of "the Epidemic." + Good bold line with reference to Russia. Not of sufficient + importance to head the Bill, but still distinctly taking.</p> + + <p><i>Tuesday.</i>—Quite a feature. Centre of the Bill + with sub-lines of "Horrible Disclosures," and "Painful Scenes." + Becoming a boom. To be further developed to-morrow.</p> + + <p><i>Wednesday.</i>—Bill all "Epidemic." Even Cricket + sacrificed to make room for it. "News from Abroad." "Horrors at + Hamburg." No idea it would turn out so well. A perfect + treasure-trove at this quiet season of the year!</p> + + <p><i>Thursday.</i>—Nothing but "Epidemic"—"Arrival + in England"—"Precautions Everywhere." Let the boom go! It + feeds itself! Nearly as good as a foreign war!</p> + + <p><i>Friday.</i>—Still "the Epidemic," but requires + strengthening. "Spreading in the Provinces," but still, not + like it was. Falling flat.</p> + + <p><i>Saturday.</i>—A good sensational Murder! The very + thing for the Contents Bills. Exit "the Epidemic," until again + wanted.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>SONGS OF SOCIETY;</h2> + + <h3>I.—INTRODUCTORY. TO MY LYRE.</h3> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["Smoothly written <i>vers de Société</i>, where a + <i>boudoir</i> decorum is, or ought always to be, + preserved; where sentiment never surges into passion, and + where humour never overflows into boisterous + merriment."—<i>Frederick Locker's Preface to "Lyra + Elegantiarum."</i>]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/109-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/109-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Dear Lyre, your duty now you know!</p> + + <p>If one would sing with grace and glow</p> + + <p class="i8">Songs of Society,</p> + + <p>One must not dream of fire, or length,</p> + + <p>Or vivid touch, or virile strength,</p> + + <p class="i8">Or great variety.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Among the Muses of Mayfair</p> + + <p>A Bacchanal with unbound hair,</p> + + <p class="i8">And loosened girdle,</p> + + <p>Would be as purely out of place</p> + + <p>As Atalanta in a race</p> + + <p class="i8">O'er hedge or hurdle:</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Our Muse, dear Lyra, must be trim,</p> + + <p>Must not indulge in vagrant whim,</p> + + <p class="i8">Of voice or vesture.</p> + + <p>Boudoir decorum will allow</p> + + <p>No gleaming eye, no glowing brow,</p> + + <p class="i8">No ardent gesture.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Society, which is our theme,</p> + + <p>Is like a well-conducted stream</p> + + <p class="i8">Which calmly ripples.</p> + + <p>We sing the World where no one feels</p> + + <p>Too pungently, or hates, or steals,</p> + + <p class="i8">Or loves, or tipples.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And should you hint that down below</p> + + <p>The subtle siren all men know</p> + + <p class="i8">Is hiding <i>her</i> face,</p> + + <p>Our answer is: "That may be true,</p> + + <p>But boudoir bards have nought to do</p> + + <p class="i8">Save with the surface."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And therefore, though Society feel</p> + + <p>The Proletariat's heavy heel</p> + + <p class="i8">Its kibe approaching,</p> + + <p>Some luxuries yet are left to sing,</p> + + <p>The Opera-Box, the Row, the Ring,</p> + + <p class="i8">And Golf, and Coaching.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Not e'en the Socialistic scare</p> + + <p>The dandyish and the debonair</p> + + <p class="i8">Has quite demolished;</p> + + <p>Whilst Privilege hath still a purse,</p> + + <p>There's yet a chance for flowing verse,</p> + + <p class="i8">And periods polished.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>If IBSEN, BELLAMY, and GEORGE,</p> + + <p>Raise not the boudoir critic's gorge</p> + + <p class="i8">Beyond all bearing,</p> + + <p>Light lyrics may she not endure,</p> + + <p>On social ills above her cure,</p> + + <p class="i8">Below her caring?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Muse, with Society we may toy</p> + + <p>Without impassioned grief or joy,</p> + + <p class="i8">Or boisterous merriment;</p> + + <p>May sing of Sorrow with a smile;</p> + + <p>At least, it may be worth our while</p> + + <p class="i8">To try the experiment.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>QUITE THE TREBLE GLOUCESTER CHEESE!—The Three Quires' + Festival this week. Do the Three Quires appear in the + Cathedral? If so, as each quire means twenty-four sheets, + there'll he quite a "Surplice Stock."</p> + <hr /> + + <p>CONTRIBUTION BY OUR OWN "MULEY + HASSAN."—<i>Puzzle</i>—To find "three Single + Gentlemen rolled into one?" <i>Answer</i>—Sir EUAN SMITH. + <i>Explanation</i>—Sir, You, an' SMITH. [<i>Exit</i> + MULEY HASSAN <i>going to Bray.</i></p> + <hr /> + + <p>Why ought a Quack's attendance on a patient to be + gratis?—Because he is No-Fee-sician.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" + id="page110"></a>[pg 110]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/110.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/110.png" + alt="'LA-BOUCHE-RE(-NARD) ET LES RAISINS.'" /></a> + + <h3>"LA-BOUCHE-RE(-NARD) ET LES RAISINS."</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" + id="page111"></a>[pg 111]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/111-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/111-1.png" + alt="A MERE PREJUDICE." /></a> + + <h3>A MERE PREJUDICE.</h3> + + <p><i>Tourist.</i> "I SEE YOU EMPLOY A GOOD MANY WOMEN + ABOUT HERE, FARMER."</p> + + <p><i>Farmer.</i> "HAVE TO DO, HARVEST-TIME, SIR; BUT FOR + MYSELF I MUCH PREFER MANUAL LABOUR!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>MORE REASONS FOR STOPPING IN TOWN.</h2> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Commodore Buncombe.</i> Because I know those infernal + Tentonners, and —— Chartreuse jaune only makes + me worse.</p> + + <p><i>William Sikes.</i> Because of the gross incompetence + of my Counsel, and the ridiculous adverse prepossessions of + the Jury at my recent appearance in public at the + C.C.C.</p> + + <p><i>McStinger.</i> Because there's bonny braw air on the + braes of Hampstead, and it costs but a bawbee to get intil + it.</p> + + <p><i>Fitz-Fluke.</i> Because, since that awkward affair at + the Roulette Club, my country invitations haven't come + in.</p> + + <p><i>Capel Courtney.</i> Because those beastly + bucket-shops have collared all our business.</p> + + <p><i>Bumpshus, M.P.</i> Because the Lords of the Treasury + (shabby crew of place-hunters) declined to adopt my + suggestion, and to place a trooper, thoroughly well found, + victualled, and overhauled, at the disposal of any Members + of the Lower House whose profound sense of duty, and of the + importance of the Imperial Federation idea, impelled them + to take a six-months' trip round the world at the nation's + expense.</p> + + <p><i>Theodore John Hook Straight.</i> Because of the old + trouble—"got a complaint in the chest."</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:45%;"> + <a href="images/111-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/111-2.png" + alt="PHILLIPOPOLIS." /></a> + + <h3>PHILLIPOPOLIS.</h3> + + <p><i>Toper Major</i> (<i>over their third bottle of a + Grand Vin</i>). I shay, ol' f'ler, neksh year thinksh'll go + see ex'bishun at Ph-Phipp—at Philup-popple—</p> + + <p><i>Toper Minor.</i> I know, ol'f'ler. You mean + Philipoppoppo—poppo—</p> + + <p><i>Toper Major.</i> Thatsh it—shame place. Have + 'nother bo'l!</p> + + <p class="author">[<i>They drink.</i></p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>"THE SPEECH OF MONKEYS."—Professor R.L. GARNER, who is + a great hand at "getting his Monkey up" (he was naturally a bit + annoyed at being, quite recently, accidentally prevented from + giving his Monkey lecture), is about to commence operations by + adapting the old song of "<i>Let us be Happy Together</i>" to + Monkey Language, when it will re-appear as "<i>Let us be Apey + Together</i>." It will be first given at Monkey Island on + Thames.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>CRICKETERS WHO OUGHT TO BE GOOD HANDS AT PLAYING A + TIE.—"The Eleven of Notts."</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>UN-BROCKEN VOWS.</h3> + + <p>Walpurgis Brocken Night at Crystal Palace last + Thursday—Grand! Jupiter Pluvius suspended buckets, and + celestial water-works rested awhile to make way for Terrestrial + Fire-works. "Todgers's can do it when it likes," as all + Martin-Chuzzlewiters know, and BROCK can do it too when + <i>he</i> likes. <i>À propos</i> of DICKENS' quotation above, + it is on record that <i>Mr. Pickwick</i> was once addressed as + "Old Fireworks." Where? When? and How? <i>Mr. Pickwick</i>, we + are led to infer by the commentary thereon, somewhat objected + to the term, unless our Pickwickian memory fail us—which + is not improbable—but Mr. BROCK would appropriate it to + himself with pleasure, and be "'proud o' the title' as the + Living Skeleton said." Despite wind and weather, and + <i>contretemps</i> generally, BROCK has never brocken faith + with the public. "<i>Facta non verba</i>" is his motto: and + "<i>Facta</i>" means (here) Fire-works.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>"GREAT BRITAIN AND THE GILBERT ISLANDS."—Captain DAVIS + of H.M. Screw Cruiser <i>Royalist</i>, on May 27, formally + annexed "The Gilbert Islands." Where was SULLIVAN? Or is it + that Sir ARTHUR, having been annexed as a Knight, was unable to + interfere? Will D'OYLY CARTE explain?</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" + id="page112"></a>[pg 112]</span> + + <h2>THE MENAGERIE RACE.</h2> + + <blockquote> + <p>SCENE—<i>The terrace in front of Hauberk Hall, + which the</i> LARKSPURS <i>have taken for the Summer</i>. + TIME—<i>An August afternoon.</i> Miss STELLA + LARKSPUR—<i>a young lady with great energy and a + talent for organisation—has insisted upon all the + Guests taking part in a Menagerie Race</i>.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>The Rev. Ninian Headnote, the Local Curate</i> + (<i>to</i> Mr. PLUMLEY DUFF—<i>after uneasily + regarding</i> Miss STELLA, <i>as she shakes up some pieces + of folded paper in a hat</i>). Can you give me any idea of + the precise nature of this amusement—er—nothing + resembling a gambling transaction, I suppose?—or I + really—</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Plumley Duff</i>. Well, I'm given to understand + that we shall each be expected to take an animal of some + sort, and drive it along with a string tied to its leg. + Sounds childish—to <i>me</i>.</p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i> (<i>relieved</i>). Oh, exactly, I see. + Most entertaining, I'm sure! (<i>He coos.</i>) What + wonderful ingenuity one sees in devising ever-fresh + pastimes, do we not? Indeed, yes!</p> + + <p><i>Miss Stella</i>. There, I've shuffled all the animals + now. (<i>Presenting the hat</i>.) Mr. HEADNOTE, will you + draw first?</p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i>. Oh, really. Am I to take one of + these? Charmed! (<i>He draws.</i>) Now I wonder what my + fate—(<i>Opening the paper</i>.) The Monkey! (<i>His + face falls.</i>) <i>Is</i> there a Monkey here? <i>Dear</i> + me, how <i>very</i> interesting!</p> + + <p><i>Dick Gatling</i> (<i>of H.M. Gunboat</i> + "<i>Weasel</i>"). Brought him over my last cruise from + Colombo. No end of a jolly little beast—bites like + the—like <i>blazes</i>, you know!</p> + + <p><i>Miss Stella</i> (<i>to her Cousin</i>). Now, DICK, I + won't have you taking away poor Jacko's character like + that. He's only bitten BINNS—and, well, there + <i>was</i> the gardener's boy—but I'm sure he + <i>teased</i> him. <i>You</i> won't tease him, will you, + Mr. HEADNOTE?</p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i>. I—I shouldn't dream of it, Miss + STELLA,—on the contrary, I—(<i>To himself</i>.) + Was it quite discreet to let myself be drawn into this? + Shall I not risk lowering my office by publicly associating + myself with a—a Monkey? I feel certain the Vicar + would disapprove strongly.</p> + + <p><i>Dick</i> (<i>to</i> Colonel KEMPTON). Drawn + <i>your</i> animal yet, Sir?</p> + + <p><i>The Colonel</i> (<i>heatedly</i>). Yes, I + have—and I wish I'd kept out of this infernal + tomfoolery. Why the mischief don't they leave a man in + peace and quietness on a hot afternoon like this? Here am + I, routed out of a comfortable seat to go and drive a + confounded White Rabbit, Sir! Idiotic, <i>I</i> call + it!</p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i>. Pardon me, Colonel KEMPTON; but if + you object to the Rabbit, I would not at all mind + undertaking it myself—and you could take my + Monkey—</p> + + <p><i>The Colonel</i>. Thanks—but I won't deprive + you. A Rabbit is quite responsibility enough for me!</p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i> (<i>to himself, disappointed</i>). + He's afraid of a poor harmless Monkey—and he an Army + man, too! But I <i>don't</i> see why <i>I</i>—</p> + + <p><i>Miss Gussie Grissell</i>. Oh, Mr. HEADNOTE, + <i>isn't</i> it ridiculous! They've given me a Kitten! It + makes me feel too absurdly young!</p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i> (<i>eagerly</i>). If you would prefer + a—a more appropriate animal, there's a Monkey, which + I am sure—(<i>To himself, as</i> Miss G. <i>turns + away indignantly</i>). This Monkey doesn't seem very + popular—there must be <i>someone</i> here + who—I'll try the American Lady—they are + generally eccentric. (<i>To</i> Mrs. HEBER K. BANGS.) I + hope Fortune has been kind to you, Mrs. BANGS?</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Bangs</i>. Well, I don't know; there <i>are</i> + quadrupeds that can trot faster over the measured mile than + a Tortoise, and that's <i>my</i> animal.</p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i> (<i>with sympathy</i>). Dear me! That + is a trial, indeed, for you! But if you would prefer + something rather more exciting, I should be most happy, I'm + sure, to exchange my Monkey—</p> + + <p><i>Dick Gatling</i> (<i>bustling up</i>). Hallo, what's + that? No, no, Mrs. BANGS—be true to your Tortoise. I + tell you he's going to romp in—Æsop's tip, don't you + know? I've backed you to win or a place. I say, what do you + think <i>I</i>'ve drawn—the Mutton! Just my luck!</p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i>. DICK, just come this way a + moment—I've a proposition to make; it's occurred to + me that the Monkey would feel more—more at home with + you, and, in short, I—</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Plumley Duff</i> (<i>plaintively, to</i> Miss + CYNTHIA CHAFFERS). I shouldn't have minded any other + animal—but to be paired off with a Goose!</p> + + <p><i>Miss Chaffers</i> (<i>consolingly</i>). You're better + off than <i>I</i> am, at all events—I've got a + Puppy!</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Duff</i>. Have you? (<i>After a + pause—sentimentally</i>.) Happy Puppy!</p> + + <p><i>Miss C.</i> He'll be anything but a happy Puppy if he + doesn't win.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Duff</i>. Oh, but he's sure to. I know I would, + if <i>I</i> was your Puppy!</p> + + <p><i>Miss C.</i> I'm not so sure of that. Don't they lodge + objections, or something, for boring?</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Fanshawe</i>. Can anybody inform me whether I'm + expected to go and catch my Peacock? Because I'll be hanged + if—</p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i>. Oh, Miss STELLA, it's all + right—Mr. GATLING thinks that it would be better if + he undertook the Monkey himself; so we've arranged + to—</p> + + <p><i>Miss Stella</i>. Oh, nonsense, DICK! I can't have you + taking advantage of Mr. HEADNOTE's good-nature like that. + What's the use of drawing lots at all if you don't keep to + them? Of <i>course</i> Mr. HEADNOTE will keep the + Monkey.</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>The unfortunate</i> Curate <i>accepts his lot with + Christian resignation</i>.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Dick</i>. Well, <i>that's</i> settled—but I + say, STELLA, where's my Mutton's moorings—and what's + to be the course?</p> + + <p><i>Stella</i>. The course is straight up the Avenue from + the Lodge to the House, and I've told them to get all the + beasts down there ready for us; so we'd better go at + once.</p> + </div> + + <h4>THE START.</h4> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>The Competitors</i>. STELLA, my dear, <i>mustn't</i> + Miss GRISSELL tell her kitten not to claw my Tortoise's + head every time he pokes his poor nose out? It isn't fair, + and it's damping all his enthusiasm!... Now, Colonel + KEMPTON, it isn't the Puppy's fault—you <i>know</i> + your Rabbit began it!... Hi, STELLA, hold on a bit, my + Mutton wants to lie down. Mayn't I kick it up!... DUFF, old + chap, your Goose is dragging her anchor again, back her + engines a bit, or there'll be a foul.... Miss STELLA, + I—I really <i>don't</i> think this Monkey is quite + well—his teeth are chattering in such a + <i>very</i>.... All right, <i>padre</i>, only his nasty + temper—jerk the beggar's chain. More than + <i>that</i>!</p> + + <p><i>Chorus of Spectators at Lodge Gates</i>. My word, I + wonder what next the gentry'll be up to, I dew. Ain't Miss + STELLA orderin' of 'en about! Now she's started 'en. They + ain't not allowed to go 'ittin of 'en—got to go just + wheeriver the animiles want. Lor, the guse is takin + <i>his</i> genlm'n in among the treeses! Well, if iver I + did! That theer tartus gits along, don't he? Passon don't + seem com'fable along o' that monkey. I'll back the young + sailor gent—keeps that sheep wunnerful stiddy, he do. + There's the hold peacock puttin' on a bust now. Well, well, + these be fine doin's for 'Auberk 'All, and no mistake. Make + old Sir HALBERD stare if he was 'ere, &c., &c.</p> + + <p><i>The Colonel</i> (<i>wrathfully to his Rabbit, which + will do nothing but run round and round him</i>). Stop + that, will you, you little fool. Do you want to trip me up! + Of all the dashed nonsense I ever—!</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Bangs</i>. My! Colonel, you do seem to have got + hold of a pretty insubordinate kind of a Rabbit, too!</p> + + <p><i>The Colonel</i> (<i>looking round</i>). Well, you + aren't getting much pace out of your Tortoise either, if it + comes to that!</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Bangs</i>. He puts in most of his time in + stoppages for rest and refreshment. I'm beginning to + believe that old fable's a fraud. Anyway, it's my opinion + this Tortoise isn't going to beat any hare—unless + it's a jugged + one.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" + id="page113"></a>[pg 113]</span> + + <p><i>Dick Gatling</i> (<i>in front, as his Sheep halts to + crop the turf in a leisurely manner</i>). We've not pulled + up—only lying-to to take in supplies. We're going + ahead directly. There, what did I tell you! Now she's + tacking!</p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i> (<i>in the rear</i>). Poo' little + Jacko, then—there, there, quietly now! Miss STELLA, + what does it mean when it gibbers like that? (<i>Sotto + voce.</i>) I wonder, if I let go the chain—</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Duff</i> (<i>hauling his Goose towards</i> Miss + CHAFFERS). It's no use—<i>I</i> can't keep this beast + from bolting off the course!</p> + + <p><i>Miss C.</i> Do keep it away from my Puppy, at all + events. I <i>know</i> it will peck him, and he's perfectly + happy licking my shoe—he's found out there's + sugar-candy in the varnish.</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Duff</i> (<i>solemnly</i>). Yes, but I + <i>say</i>, you know—that's all very well, but it's + not making him <i>race</i>, is it? Now I <i>am</i> getting + some running out of my Goose.</p> + + <p><i>Miss C.</i> Rather in-and-out-running, isn't it? + (<i>Cries of distress from the rear.</i>) But what is the + matter now? That poor dear Curate again!</p> + + <p><i>The Curate</i> (<i>in agony</i>). Here, I say, + somebody! <i>do</i> help me! Miss STELLA, do speak to your + monkey, please! It's jumped on my back, and it's pulling my + hair—'ow!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Most of the Competitors abandon their animals and + rush to the rescue.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Dick Gatling</i> (<i>coming up later</i>). Why on + earth did you all jack up like that? You've missed a + splendid finish! My Mutton was forging ahead like fun, when + FANSHAWE's Peacock hoisted his sail, and drew alongside, + and it was neck and neck. Only, as he had more neck than + the Mutton, and stuck it out, he won by a beak. Look here, + let's have it all over again!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>But the Monkey being up a tree, and the</i> Colonel + <i>having surreptitiously got rid of his Rabbit among the + bracken, and the Tortoise having retired within his shell + and firmly declined to come out again, sport is abandoned + for the afternoon, to the scarcely disguised relief of + the</i> Curate, <i>who is prevented from remaining to tea + by the pressure of parish-work.</i></p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:85%;"> + <a href="images/113.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/113.png" + alt="THE ONLY MAN IN ROTTEN ROW." /></a> + + <h3>THE ONLY MAN IN ROTTEN ROW.</h3>SCENE FROM THE RAKE'S + PROGRESS. + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.</h2> + + <p class="author"><i>Mount Street, Grosvenor Square.</i></p> + + <p>DEAR MR. PUNCH,</p> + + <p>Once more I am back in my London + "<i>pied-à-terre</i>"—(but how it can he a + <i>pied-à-TERRE</i>, I don't quite know, considering it's a + flat on the fourth floor!—<i>ridiculous</i> language + French is to be sure!)—and</p> + + <p>very glad to get home again I assure you. I have spent the + last few weeks in the Isle of Wight, which is a British + Possession in the latitude of Spithead—(I don't know why + Spithead should want any latitude, but it seems to take a good + deal!)—sacred to Tourists, <i>Char-à-bancs</i>, and + Pirates—the latter disguised as Lodging-letters!</p> + + <p>While there we suffered severely from Regattas; which swarm + in the Island at this season, and are hotly pursued by the + visitors, with the deadly telescope. I myself was bitten once + by the Regatta Bacteria, and very painful it was. My friend, + Baron VON HODGEMANN, owner of the <i>Anglesey</i>, persuaded me + to go on board for a race, and we travelled the whole thirty + miles sitting at an angle of forty-five degrees, and singing + the war-cry of the Royal Victoria Yacht Club!—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>To the mast-head high we nail the Burge,<a id="footnotetag1" + name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a></p> + + <p>When the north wind snores its dismal dirge!</p> + + <p>In the trough of the sea with a mighty splurge,</p> + + <p>The quiv'ring Yacht beats down the surge,</p> + + <p class="i10">And weathers the Warner Light!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>This experience having inspired me with courage, I indulged + in another flight of daring which required all the + <i>aplomb</i> of a leader of Fashion to carry out successfully; + and, though few of the "smart" Ladies of my set habitually + indulge in the habit. I am happy to think I am encouraging them + in a healthy and amusing pastime, which, in the Summer, may in + time even rival Lawn Tennis! However—not to beat about + the bush any longer—an utterly absurd expression this + is!—as if it could hurt the bush to beat it!—to say + nothing of the difficulty of keeping a bush always handy to + beat!)—it is time I told you what this great achievement + of mine was—<i>I went paddling!</i> There!—the + secret is out!—the Fashion is set!—the new Summer + Amusement discovered! The Rules of the Game are being written, + and will shortly be published under the title, "<i>Routledge's + Etiquette of Paddling, for Ladies of Good Standing</i>." I need + hardly tell you that the first thing necessary is to find a + secluded bay, and it is also advisable to collect a few + children to take with you—(there are usually plenty left + about on the beach from which you can make a + selection)—as a sort of excuse;—no other implements + are required for the game, in fact, superfluities are a + nuisance and only get wet—thus equipped—the game + can be played with freedom—(<i>not</i> from + pebbles)—combined of course with propriety, and will be + found amusing and invigorating—(quotation from the + preface to the Book of Rules written by the eminent German + Doctor, HERR SPLASHENWASSER—inventor of the + Water-Cure.</p> + + <p>The next Race meeting requiring attention takes place at + Doncaster this week, and the most important race, I take + it—at least, <i>I</i> don't take it—but the + <i>winner</i> will—another senseless expression—is + naturally the St. Leger, for which I make a poetic selection, + which has cost me weeks of anxious thought, no "leger" + task!—(French joke)—owing to the number of horses + engaged, so few of which will run!</p> + + <p class="author">Yours devotedly,<br /> + LADY GAY.</p> + + <h3 class="sc">St. Leger Selection.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The best of the classic events of the year</p> + + <p class="i2">We are told by the students of + "form,"</p> + + <p>Is a foregone conclusion, 'tis perfectly clear,</p> + + <p class="i2">For the noble possessor of + <i>Orme</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote1" + name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag1">(return)</a> + + <p>This should really be Burg<i>ee</i>, but then it + wouldn't rhyme, and a Poet may drop a <i>syllable</i>, if + he or she mayn't drop an H!</p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" + id="page114"></a>[pg 114]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/114.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/114.png" + alt="<h3>THE WOMAN THAT <u>WAS</u>!</h3>" /> + </a> + + <h3>THE WOMAN THAT <u>WAS</u>!</h3> + + <p><i>Monsieur le Maréchal</i> (<i>who, during the Forties, + was a dashing young Military Attaché at, the French Embassy + in London</i>). "AH, DUCHESS, AND DO YOU REMEMBER ZE SO + BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LADY MARY GWENDOLEN VERE DE VERE, ZAT + EVERYBODY VENT MAD ABOUT VEN I VAS IN ENGLAND? VEN I TINK + OF 'ER, MY 'EARRT BEAT EVEN NOW!"</p> + + <p><i>The Duchess</i> (<i>née Mary Gwendolen Vere de + Vere</i>). "OH YES, MONSIEUR LE MARÉCHAL, I REMEMBER HER + ONLY TOO WELL!"</p> + + <p><i>M. le Maréchal.</i> "VAT 'AS BECAME OF 'ER, MADAME LA + DUCHESSE?"</p> + + <p><i>Her Grace</i> (<i>with a sigh</i>). "<i>ELLE N'EST + PLUS!</i>"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>STUDIES IN THE NEW POETRY.</h2> + + <h3>No. V.</h3> + + <p>It may be objected that <i>Mr. Punch's</i> fifth example + does not strictly conform to the canons laid down by him in his + prefatory remarks to No. I. <i>Mr. Punch</i> neither admits nor + denies the charge. He is convinced, however, that those who do + him the honour to read these Studies, might justly complain if + he failed to include in them an example of the work of a Poet + who has shown our generation how rusticity and rhymes, cattle + and Conservative convictions, peasants and patriotism, may be + combined in verse. It is scarcely necessary to add that the + author of the following magnificent piece is Mr. A-FR-D A-ST-N. + Like others who might be named, he has not the honour to be an + agricultural labourer; but no living man has sung at greater + length of rural life, and its simple joys. Many of his admirers + have asserted that Britain ought to have more than one + Laureate, and that Mr. A-FR-D A-ST-N ought to be among the + number. Others are not prepared to go quite so far. They have + been heard to complain that cows and trees, and woodmen and + farms, and sheep and wains, and hay and turnips, do not + necessarily suggest the highest happiness, and that it is not + always dignified for an aspiring Poet to be led about helpless + through the byeways of sense by those wilful, wanton + playfellows, his rhymes. The two factions may be left to fight + out their quarrel over the present example, which, by the way, + is <i>not</i> taken from the collected edition of the Poet's + works.</p> + + <h3>IS LUNCH WORTH LUNCHING?</h3> + + <h4>(<i>By A-fr-d A-st-n.</i>)</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Is Lunch worth lunching? Go, dyspeptic man,</p> + + <p class="i2">Where in the meadows green the oxen + munch.</p> + + <p>Is it not true that since our land began</p> + + <p class="i2">The hornéd ox hath given us steaks for + lunch?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Steaks rump or otherwise, the prime sirloin,</p> + + <p class="i2">Sauced with the stinging radish of the + horse.</p> + + <p>Beeves meditate and die; we pay our coin,</p> + + <p class="i2">And though the food be often tough and + coarse,</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>We eat it, we, through whose bold British veins</p> + + <p class="i2">Bold British hearts drive bubbling + British blood.</p> + + <p>No true-born Briton, come what may, disdains</p> + + <p class="i2">To eat the patient chewers of the + cud.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Or seek the uplands, where of old Bo Peep</p> + + <p class="i2">(So runs the tale) lost all her fleecy + flocks;</p> + + <p>There happy shepherds tend their grazing sheep</p> + + <p class="i2">(Some men like mutton, some prefer the + ox).</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ay, surely it would need a heart of flint</p> + + <p class="i2">To watch the blithe lambs caper o'er the + lea,</p> + + <p>And, watching them, refrain from thoughts of + mint,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of new potatoes, and the sweet green + pea.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Is Lunch worth lunching? The September sun</p> + + <p class="i2">Makes answer "Yes;" no longer must thou + lag.</p> + + <p>Forth to the stubble, cynic; take thy gun,</p> + + <p class="i2">And add the juicy partridge to thy + bag.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Out in the fields the keen-eyed pigeons coo;</p> + + <p class="i2">They fill their crops, and then away they + fly.</p> + + <p>Pigeons are sometimes passable in stew,</p> + + <p class="i2">And always quite delicious in a pie.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Or pluck red-currants on some summer day,</p> + + <p class="i2">Then take of raspberries an equal + part,</p> + + <p>Add cream and sugar—can mere words convey</p> + + <p class="i2">The luscious joys of this delightful + tart?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Is Lunch worth lunching? If such cates should + fail,</p> + + <p class="i2">Go out of country bread a solid + hunch,</p> + + <p>Pile on it cheese, wash down with country ale,</p> + + <p class="i2">And, faring plainly, yet enjoy thy + lunch.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Yea, this is truth, the lunch of knife and fork,</p> + + <p class="i2">The pic-nic lunch, spread out upon the + earth,</p> + + <p>Lunches of beef, bread, mutton, veal, or pork,</p> + + <p class="i2">All, all, without exception all, are + worth!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>NINETY-NINE OUT OF A HUNDRED CANDIDATES MUST BE + "PILLED."—The Living of "Easington-with-Liverton, + Yorkshire, worth £600 per annum," is vacant. Is it in the gift + of the celebrated Dr. COCKLE? or of Dr. CARTER, of + Little-Liverpill-Street fame?</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" + id="page115"></a>[pg 115]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/115.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/115.png" + alt="'BACK!'" /></a> + + <h3>"BACK!"</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" + id="page117"></a>[pg 117]</span> + + <h2>PLAYFUL HEIFERVESCENCE AT HAWARDEN.</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[Mr. GLADSTONE met with an extraordinary adventure in + Hawarden Park one day last week. A heifer, which had got + loose, made for Mr. GLADSTONE as he was crossing the park, + and knocked him down. Mr. GLADSTONE took refuge behind a + tree. The heifer scampered off, and was subsequently + shot.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/117.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/117.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <center> + G.O.M. <i>sings</i>:— + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>How happy could I be with heifer,</p> + + <p class="i2">If sure it were only her play.</p> + + <p>Is't LABBY? or Labour? Together</p> + + <p class="i2">In one? I'll get out of the way.</p> + + <p><i>Singing</i> (<i>to myself</i>)—With my tol + de rol de rol LABBY, &c.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She comes! On her horns she is playing</p> + + <p class="i2">A tune with a nourish or two!</p> + + <p>No cow-herd am I but my staying</p> + + <p class="i2">To play second fiddle won't do.</p> + + <p><i>Singing</i> (<i>to myself</i>)—With my tol + de rol tol-e-rate LABBY, &c.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Don't chivey her! I would allot her</p> + + <p class="i2">"Three acres," and lots of sweet hay.</p> + + <p>Alas! while I'm talking, they've shot her!</p> + + <p class="i2">Well! heifers, like dogs, have their + day!</p> + + <p><i>Singing</i> (<i>to myself, as + before</i>)—With my tol lol de rol-licking LABBY, + &c.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p><i>Latest.</i>—After dinner, Mr. GLADSTONE fell asleep + in his chair! He was seen to smile, although his repose seemed + somewhat disturbed. Presently he was heard to murmur + melodiously the words of the old song, slightly adapted to the + most recent event,—"<i>Heifer of thee I'm fondly + dreaming</i>!" Then a shudder ran through his frame as he + pronounced softly a Latin sentence; it was "<i>Labor omnia + vincit</i>!" Then he awoke.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>SONGS OUT OF SEASON.</h2> + + <h3>No. II.—KEW-RIOUS!</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It's a pleasure worth the danger,</p> + + <p class="i2">Deems your gorgeous DE LA PLUCHE,</p> + + <p>To become the main arranger</p> + + <p class="i2">Of a drive in your barouche;</p> + + <p>And your Coachman, honest JOE too,</p> + + <p class="i2">When approached thereon by JEAMES,</p> + + <p>Doesn't say exactly "no," to</p> + + <p class="i2">Such inviting little schemes.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>JEAMES has doffed them "'orrid knee-things;"</p> + + <p class="i2">Plush gives way to tweed and socks;</p> + + <p>And a hamper with the tea-things,</p> + + <p class="i2">Fills his place upon the box;</p> + + <p>With MARIA, JANE, and HEMMA,</p> + + <p class="i2">He is playing archest games,</p> + + <p>And they're in the sweet dilemma,</p> + + <p class="i2">Who shall make the most of JAMES.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Mr. COACHMAN smokes his pipe on</p> + + <p class="i2">His accustomed throne of pride,</p> + + <p>And, through driving, keeps an eye 'pon</p> + + <p class="i2">All the revellers inside.</p> + + <p>Mrs. COACHMAN there is seated;</p> + + <p class="i2">Children twain are on her lapped,</p> + + <p>Who alternately are treated,</p> + + <p class="i2">And alternately are slapped.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>While the painters haunt your mansion,</p> + + <p class="i2">And you're "<i>H</i>up" "The + <i>H</i>alps" or "Rhind,"</p> + + <p>Your domestics find expansion</p> + + <p class="i2">In diversions of the kind;</p> + + <p>And on such a day as this is,</p> + + <p class="i2">They will drink the health at Kew,</p> + + <p>Of "The Master and the Missis,</p> + + <p class="i2">And their bloomin' kerridge too!"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p>THE PALLIUM AND ARCHIEPISCOPAL OATH CONTROVERSY IN THE + "TIMES."—No wonder this is a very dry subject, when + they've got such a strong THURST-ON among them. Our advice, by + way of moistening it, is, "Drop it!"</p> + <hr /> + + <p>"CLERGY FEES" (<i>see "Times" + Correspondence</i>).—<i>Growl of the Archiepiscopal Ogre + & Co.</i>:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i10">"<i>Fee</i>, fi, fo, fum!</p> + + <p class="i4">I smell the coin of a Clergyman!</p> + + <p>Hath he fat glebe, be he ill-fee'd, ill-fed,</p> + + <p>I'll grab his fees to butter my bread!"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>A NIGHTLY CHEVALIER.</h2> + + <p>Music-Hall Artists are not by any means "Fixed Stars." + During the evening they manage to accomplish the somewhat + paradoxical-sounding feat of shining in the same parts, yet in + different places and at different times, appearing everywhere + with undiminished brilliancy. The Student of the Music-Hall + Planetary system, has only by observation to ascertain the + exact time and place of the appearance of his favourite bright + particular Star, and then to pay his money, take his choice + between sitting and standing, and like a true astronomer, he + will—glass in hand, a strong glass too,—await the + great event of the evening, calmly and contentedly.</p> + + <p>If the Wirtuous Westender wandering down the Strand, after + having on some previous nights exhausted the Pavilion and the + elaborately gorgeous Variety Shows given at the Empire and + Alhambra, seeks for awhile a resting-place wherein to enjoy his + postprandial cigar, and be amused, if such an one will drop + into the classic Tivoli, he will find excellent entertainment, + that is as long as their present programme holds the field. The + Holborn and the Oxford may delight him on other nights, for it + seems that much the same Stars shine all around; but for the + present, taking Tivoli as synonymous with Tibur, he may, with + Horation humour, say to himself ("himself" being not a bad + audience as a rule):—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Holborn Tibur amem ventosus, Tivoli Holborn,"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>and he can then enter the Tivoli, now under the benign rule + of that old Music Hall Hand, CAROLUS MORTONIUS, M.A., Magister + Agens, while the experienced Mr. VERNON + DOWSETT—"<i>Experientia Dowsett</i>"—manages the + stage. Good as is the entire show, and especially good as is + the performance of Mr. CHARLES GODFREY as an old Chelsea + Pensioner recounting to several little Peterkins a touching and + heart-stirring tale of the Crimean War, yet for me, the + Costermonger Songs of Mr. ALBERT CHEVALIER are the great + attraction. His now well-known "<i>Coster's Serenade</i>," and + his "<i>Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road</i>," are supplemented + by a song and dialogue about a Coster's son, a precocious + little chap, about three years old, and "only that 'igh, you + know," in whom his father takes so great a pride that it works + his own temporary reformation. It is so natural as to be just + on the borderland between farce and pathos, and recalls time + past, when ROBSON played <i>The Porter's Knot</i>, and + such-like pieces. Now what more do Music Halls want than what + Mr. CHEVALIER gives them? This is the very essence of a + dramatic sketch of character, given in just the time it takes + to sing the song,—that is, about ten minutes, if as much. + The compact orchestra, under the directorship of Mr. ASHER, + discourses excellent accompaniments, and the music of the + CHEVALIER's songs—composed, I believe, by + himself—is not the least among the attractions. The + CHEVALIER, who, as he takes more than one turn every evening, + may be termed a Knight Errant, is certainly the Coster's + Laureate and accepted Representative in the West; the mine, + which is his own, is inexhaustible. He is a magician in his own + peculiar line, and may write himself ALBERTUS MAGNUS.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>"AL FRESCO," the Lightning Artist, whose full name is + "ALFRED FRESCO," writes to suggest that the Alhambra under Mr. + JOHN HOLLINGSHEAD's management should start a Rotten Row Galop + and Kensington Gardens Quadrille to follow as in a series the + highly successful <i>Serpentine Dance</i>.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>NOVEL QUARTETTE.—At the next Hereford Festival there + will be performed a concerted piece by four Short Horns.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" + id="page118"></a>[pg 118]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/118.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/118.png" + alt="STARTLING DISCOVERY ON THE YORKSHIRE COAST." /> + </a> + + <h3>STARTLING DISCOVERY ON THE YORKSHIRE COAST.</h3> + + <p><i>Young Tripper</i> (<i>on his first visit to the Sea, + becoming suddenly conscious of the ebbing Tide</i>). "HI! + BILL! JACK! T'WATTER BE A RUNNIN' OFF! BY GUM, LADS, BUT AI + BET SHE'S BRUSSEN SOMEWHERES!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE POOR VIOLINIST.—An Episode, in the Style of + Sterne.</h2> + + <p>"<i>Le Luthier de Crémone</i>," observed EUGENIUS, "is a + pathetic story."</p> + + <p>"Indeed, EUGENIUS," replied YORICK, "it is extremely + touching. I protest I never read, or hear it, without + emotion."</p> + + <p>"The violin," pursued EUGENIUS, "most sensitive, and, as it + were, soulful of human instruments, lends itself, with + particular aptness, to the purposes of literary pathos."</p> + + <p>"Dear Sensibility!" said I, "source inexhausted of all that + is precious in our (poetical) joys, or costly in our (dramatic) + sorrows!"</p> + + <p>"It were well," continued YORICK, drily, "if it were also + the source inexhausted of more that is quick in our sympathy, + and practical in our beneficence. It is scarcely in the columns + of the daily news-sheet that Sensibility usually seeks its + much-sought stimulus. And yet but lately, in the corner of my + paper, I encountered a piteous story that 'dear Sensibility' + (had it been more romantically environed) might deliciously + have luxuriated in. I protest 'twas as pathetic as those of + MARIA LE FEVRE, or LA FLEUR. It was headed, "Sad Death of a + Well-known Violinist."</p> + + <p>"Prithee, dear YORICK, let me hear it," cried EUGENIUS.</p> + + <p>"'Twas but the prosaic report of a Coroner's Inquest," + pursued YORICK. "Sensibility would probably have 'skipped' the + sordid circumstance. 'FREDERICK MARTIN, aged seventy-two, a + well-known Violinist, and Professor of Music, formerly a member + of the orchestra of the Italian Opera at Her Majesty's and + Covent Garden Theatres,' found life too hard for him. That is + all. 'The deceased, a bachelor.'—Heaven help + him!—'had of late been afflicted with deafness, which + hindered his pursuit of his profession, and' (the witness an + old friend feared) 'he was recently in straitened + circumstances, but he was too proud and independent to ask or + accept assistance.' The old friend, Mr. LEWIS CHAPUY, Comedian, + had 'frequently offered him hospitalities, which he never + accepted.' Offered him hospitalities! Worthy comedian! In + faith, EUGENIUS, 'tis delicately worded. True 'Sensibility' + here, supplemented by practical sympathy. Both, alas! + unavailing. Somewhat of the doggedly independent spirit of the + boot-rejecting Dr. JOHNSON in this poor deaf violinist + apparently. Verily, EUGENIUS, the story requires but the + 'decorative art' of the literary sentimentalist to make it + moving, even to the modish. The ingeniously emotional historian + of LA FLEUR would have made much of it."</p> + + <p>"My gentle heart already bleeds with it," said I. "But the + upshot, YORICK; the sequel, my friend?"</p> + + <p>"'Tis short and simple," responded YORICK. "'The afflicted + Violinist' occupied a room at 34, Compton Street, Brunswick + Square, in which he lived alone. He suffered from lumbago, as + well as from a proud spirit and a broken heart. He had a dread + of 'coming to the Workhouse.' Spectral fear which haunts ever + the sensitive and poverty-stricken! Unreasonable? Perhaps. But + not the less agonising. What comfort may Political Economy and + an admirable Poor Law yield to proud-spirited victims of + poverty?"</p> + + <p>"But surely," said I, "the compassion of the stranger would + gladly have poured oil and wine into the wounds of his + spirit—or into poor afflicted MARIA's—had he only + known."</p> + + <p>"Doubtless," said YORICK. "But 'the great Sensorium of the + World,' as—in 'mere pomp of words'—thou dost + designate 'Dear Sensibility,' did <i>not</i> 'vibrate' to the + case of this 'well-known Violinist'—until 'twas too late + to vibrate to any useful purpose. He was 'found lying dead in + his bed, fully dressed, with the exception of his hat and + boots,' mute as the untouched strings of his own violin. 'He + had died suddenly from syncope, or heart-failure.' + Heart-failure, EUGENIUS. Doth not thy gentle heart fail at the + thought? 'Dr. COLLEY found the body in an advanced stage of + decomposition, and life had probably been extinct since the + preceding Thursday night.' Prithee, Sir, is 'MARIA, sitting + pensive under her poplar, more pathetic than this poor broken + musician, dying alone, in his poverty and pride?"</p> + + <p>"Indeed, no!" I responded, musingly.</p> + + <p>"Those," continued YORICK, "who go, like the 'Knight of the + Rueful Countenance,' in quest of melancholy adventures, need + not to make deliberately 'Sentimental Journeys' through France, + or Italy, or by forest or mountain, picturesque hamlet, or + romantic stream. The purlieus of great cities amongst the + poverty-stricken members of what it is usual to call the 'lower + middle-classes,' will furnish multitudinous subjects for + pensive thought, and—what were a whole world + better—for practical benevolence. 'Tis too late, alas! to + do aught for this dead Violinist, but were eyes and pen more + sedulously and sympathetically employed about real, if + sordid-seeming, in place of imaginary, if picturesque, woes, + why verily, EUGENIUS, something more, perchance, might be done + in such pitiful cases as that I have described to thee in + non-journalistic language, than what was formally done by the + Coroner's Jury, who—as they were bound to do, + indeed—'<i>returned a verdict in accordance with the + medical testimony</i>.'"</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" + id="page119"></a>[pg 119]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/119.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/119.png" + alt="PUNCH'S PIC-NIC. THE PARLIAMENTARY MIRAGE." /> + </a> + + <h3>PUNCH'S PIC-NIC. THE PARLIAMENTARY MIRAGE.</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" + id="page120"></a>[pg 120]</span> + + <h2>LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS.</h2> + + <h3>No. XIII.—TO IRRITATION.</h3> + + <p>I have just come home from my Club in a state bordering upon + distraction. No great misfortune has happened to me, my dearest + friend has not been black-balled, the Club bore has not had me + in his unrelenting clutches. The waiters have been, as indeed + they always are, civil and obliging, the excellent <i>chef</i> + catered with his usual skill to my simple mid-day wants, my + table companions were good-humoured, cheerful, and pleasantly + cynical. What then, you may ask, has happened to shatter my + nerves and impair my temper for the day? It is a simple matter, + and I am almost ashamed to confess it openly. But I am + encouraged by the fact that two eminently solid and, so far as + I could see, perfectly unemotional gentlemen were as deeply + pricked and worried by what happened as I was myself. To begin + with, I do not admit that my nerves vibrate more easily than + those of my fellow-men. I have never killed an organ-grinder, I + am guiltless of the blood of a German band, I have even gone so + far as to spare guards who asked for my railway-ticket after I + had carefully wrapped myself up for a journey, and no touting + vendor of subscription books or works of art can truthfully say + that I have kicked him. On the whole I think I am reasonably + even-tempered and of higher than average amiability. Others may + judge me differently. I don't wish to quarrel with them. I + simply reiterate my opinion. Why then am I to-day in a seething + state of exception to my rule? Here is the cause:</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/120.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/120.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>After I had done with my luncheon, and had puffed a friendly + cigar, I proceeded to that room in the Club which is specially + dedicated to literature and silence. What a feast of + multitudinous periodicals is there spread out, how brightly the + variegated array of books from the circulating library attracts + the leisurely, how dignified and awe-inspiring are the + far-stretching ranks of accumulated volumes upon the shelves. + And the carpet, how soft, and the chairs how comfortably easy. + Into one of these chairs I sank with a religious novel (I + merely mention the fact, whether for praise or blame I care + not), and began to think deeply about various life-problems + that have much distressed me. Why must men wear themselves out + prematurely with labour? Why must we suffer? And why, granting + the necessity for pain, should I occasionally sink under a + toothache, while HARRISON, a blatant fellow with a red face and + a loud voice, continues in a condition of robust and oppressive + health? These speculations were not so painful and disturbing + as might be supposed. Indeed, they had a soothing effect. From + the rhythmical breathing and the closed eyes of two other + occupants of arm-chairs, I judged that they were similarly + occupied in philosophic reflection. I was just composing myself + to a bout of specially hard thinking, when, lo, the door + opened, and in stepped Dr. FUSSELL!</p> + + <p>Everybody, I take it, knows Dr. FUSSELL. He is a member of + countless learned Societies. Over many of them he presides, to + some he acts as secretary. He reads papers on abstruse + questions connected with sanitation, he dashes with a kind of + wild war-whoop into impassioned newspaper controversies on the + component elements of a dust particle, or the civilisation of + the Syro-Phœnicians. He is acute, dialectical, scornful + and furious. He denounces those who oppose him as the meanest + of mankind, he extols his supporters as the most illustrious + and reasonable of all who have benefited the human race. In the + Club he is always engaged in some investigation which keeps him + continuously skipping from bookshelf to bookshelf, climbing up + ladders to reach the highest shelves, rushing up and + down-stairs with sheaves of paper bulging in his coat-pockets, + or stowed under his arms. He lays his top-hat on the table, and + makes it a receptacle for reams of notes and volumes of + projected essays. In a word, he is a human storm.</p> + + <p>Well, in he came with his grey hair streaming over his + forehead, and his eyes aflame. I knew in a moment that repose + in his presence was out of the question, though I still sat on, + hoping against hope. First, the Doctor bounded to the + fire-place, seized the poker, and began to rummage the fire. It + was a good fire, and had done nothing to deserve this + punishment. I shifted on my seat; the two other philosophers + opened their eyes and frowned, and still Dr. FUSSELL continued + to rummage. Now I knew, not only that that fire was being poked + on an entirely wrong principle, but that I alone knew how it + ought to be poked. My fingers itched, my whole body tingled + with excitement. At last Dr. FUSSELL ceased. In a moment I was + out of my seat and making a bee-line for the poker. I just + managed to beat the other two by a short head, seized the + poker, and relieved my soul by stirring the fire on strictly + scientific principles. The others watched me hungrily. When I + had finished, each of them took a short turn with the poker, + and then we all returned, more or less appeased, to our + seats.</p> + + <p>But we had not done with the ineffable FUSSELL. By this time + he was on the top of a step-ladder. Slowly he selected six + tomes, and began his perilous descent. Our eyes were riveted + upon him. Crash, bang! His arms were empty, and the + unconscionable books fluttered and clattered to the floor. + Slowly and ruefully did FUSSELL descend into the cloud of dust + and gather his bruised treasures from the carpet. At last he + heaped them on his table, and began to write. We hoped for + peace, but it was not to be. A sudden thought struck him. He + would sew his scattered leaves of MS. together. With dreadful + deliberation he took needle and cotton from a little pocket + housewife that he carried with him; and then began one of the + most maddening performances I have ever watched. Carefully he + held the needle to the light, carefully he wetted and trimmed + his cotton to a point. And for ten stricken minutes we saw him + miss the eye of the needle, sometimes by an inch, sometimes by + a hair's breadth. It was a thrilling contest between obstinacy + and evasiveness. I was fascinated by it. Every time, as the + cotton neared the eye, my heart slowly ascended into my mouth, + only to drop with a fatal swiftness into my boots as the + triumphant needle scored another victory. I began to imitate + FUSSELL's every movement. I threaded invisible needles by the + gross with imperceptible cotton. I felt in my own breast all + the ardour of the chase, all the bitter sorrow of repeated + failures. My two companions in misfortune were similarly + affected, and there we sat, three sane and ordinary men, + feverishly going through all these itching movements with + FUSSELL as our detested, but unconscious fugleman. The strain + became too great. I sprang from my chair, "Sir," I said to the + astonished FUSSELL, "permit me; I learnt the art of threading + needles as a boy from an East End seamstress," and before he + had time to protest, I had seized the offending instruments, + and by a stroke of inspiration had passed the cotton through. + Then without waiting to hear what FUSSELL might have to say, I + fled from the room. And here consequently I sit with my nerves + shattered, and an untasted crumpet cooling on the tea-tray.</p> + + <p>Am I singular? I think not. There are others whose + mannerisms plague me too. For instance, TRUBERRY, whom I meet + occasionally, has a wild and venomous habit of relating to me + his infinitesimal jokelets. That I could pardon. But when, + having related one, he bursts, as he always does, into a + helpless suffocation of purple laughter, the savage within me + awakes and I murder TRUBERRY in fancy to an accompaniment of + refined and protracted tortures. Once, as I helped him on with + his overcoat, he joked and exploded. My fingers were horribly + near his throat. But I mastered the impulse, and TRUBERRY will + never know how near he was to destruction. And to make matters + worse, he is one of the kindest and most considerately helpful + of human beings. Oh, IRRITATION, IRRITATION, you have much to + answer for. The fly in the ointment of the apothecary was a + baby to you. Avaunt, avaunt!</p> + + <p class="author">DIOGENES ROBINSON.</p> + <hr /> + + <p>THE VERY LATEST.—Mrs. RAM had a paragraph read to her + from the <i>D.T.'s</i> "London Day by Day," recounting how the + Archbishop of CANTERBURY when staying at Haddo House, had + attended service in the parish Kirk, which conduct might have + provoked High Churchmen to assail him for "bowing the knee in + the House of Rimmon." Thinking it over afterwards, when she had + muddled up the name in her usual fashion, our old friend Mrs. + R. observed, with some humour, that she thought "the Archbishop + had shown his good scents by going to the House of RIMMEL."</p> + <hr /> + + <p><font size="+1">☞</font> NOTICE.—Rejected + Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, + Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be + returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed + Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no + exception.</p> + <hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. +103, September 10, 1892, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 15196-h.htm or 15196-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/1/9/15196/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +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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