Book: Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 102, February 27, 1892
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Various >> Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 102, February 27, 1892
Capital speech, too, of quite another kind, from DUNBAR BARTON. Most
promising maiden speech delivered in present Parliament; of good
omen that best parts were not those prepared in leisure of study,
put the earlier passages evoked by preceding debate, and necessarily
impromptu. As for SAUNDERSON, he was in his best form.
"SAUNDERSON," said the SQUIRE OF MALWOOD, recognising a kindred
spirit, "always reminds me of those Lifeguardsmen you see at the
Military Festival, riding round Agricultural Hall slashing off heads.
The heads are dummies, and no harm is done; but it's a pretty sight."
The Colonel rides well, and is a skilful swordsman.
Delight of audience crowding in after dinner completed by TIM HEALY
dashing in with intent to trip up Colonel. Domestic difficulties in
the Party have not smoothed down TIM's natural truculence. With JOHN
REDMOND sitting behind him and SAUNDERSON in front, a porcupine in
fretful mood is a ball of spun silk compared with TIM.
After this RADCLIFFE COOKE and collapse, with the prospect of
proceedings droning on till midnight, then adjournment, and begin
again to-morrow. Suddenly, on stroke of twelve, Closure moved. House
completely taken aback. Whilst it sat gasping under shock SPEAKER
declared Closure carried; bells rang through all the corridors;
Members trooped in to find Division imminent. When figures declared,
showing Government had been surprised into narrow majority of 21,
fresh wave of excitement welled forth, amid which Address was,
somehow, agreed to. Members went off into snowstorm, cheering and
laughing as if there had never before been such larks.
_Business done_.--Address agreed to.
_Tuesday Night_.--GRANDOLPH turned up to-day; took his familiar
corner seat; tugged at his old moustache; caressed his new beard, and
listened to SEALE HAYNE recklessly attacking the sacred institution of
Justiciary of the Peace.
"Nothing changed, TOBY, dear boy," he said; "not even the Ministry.
When I came back from Mashonaland I was told we were on the eve of
political earthquake. The House of Commons was to be transformed into
a cockpit; the Benches steepled in the gore of an iniquitous Ministry.
But, except for some vacant places and some further advancement of
privates in the little band I once officered, it's all the same, only
a little drearier. The same throng in the Lobby, the same rows of
Members sitting on the Benches, the same Mace on the Table, the same
stately figure in the Chair, and the same Sergeants-at-Arms relieving
guard at the Cross Benches. There are not quite the same two Irish
Leaders, for BRER FOX has 'gone away.' BRER RABBIT I see sitting
over there with his kindly face and his friendly smile, perhaps the
only Irishman in the House who, if a coat were trailed before him,
would turn away from temptation. It's only Irishmen, with their
inexhaustible fund of humour, who would have put JUSTIN MCCARTHY in
his present place. Doesn't much matter so long as TIM HEALY's around.
I'll bet my gold mine at Mashonaland against the Kennel, Barks, that
TIM will make up the average of fighting even when BRER RABBIT in the
scale."
[Illustration: A GIFT FROM THE GREEKS.
RIGHT HON. ARTHUR. "IF I CAN ONLY GET THIS THROUGH, IT OUGHT TO SETTLE
'EM!"]
There's one thing changed GRANDOLPH did not allude to; perhaps
unconscious of it. 'Tis his own appearance. In addition to the beard,
he has put on ruddy tint that speaks well for Mashonaland as a health
resort compared with Westminster. Amongst the pale-faced legislators
his visage shines like the morning sun. "Quite a Colonial look about
him," says ALGERNON BORTHWICK, fretfully. "But, after a few dinners at
the Amphitryon and a few nights at the House and elsewhere, he'll get
over it."
Members from all parts crowd round GRANDOLPH to shake the horny hand
of the intrepid explorer, the dauntless lion _dompter_. A cold air
whistles along the row of Ministers as he sits behind.
"What's he up to?" JOKIM hoarsely whispered, all his native gaiety
eclipsed.
"Come down, I suppose," said Prince ARTHUR, smiling, "to congratulate
us on our great victory last night, whereby we escaped defeat in
Debate on Address by triumphant majority of 21."
"Quite a stormy petrel don't you think?" JOKIM said, nervously rubbing
his hands.
"Not exactly," said Prince ARTHUR; "that usually comes before the
storm you know. If you must be personal and ornithological, I should
say GRANDOLPH's appearance on the scene is more reminiscent of the
vulture; a little hasty in his appearance perhaps, but that is none
the less significant."
_Business done._--Practically none, and so home to dinner at twenty
minutes to eight.
_Thursday Night._--Prince ARTHUR explained provisions of
long-looked-for Local Government scheme. A remarkable, unexampled,
scene. House crowded on every Bench, with Duke of DEVONSHIRE looking
down from Peers' Gallery, thanking Heaven he is out of it. Prince
ARTHUR's manner in introducing the measure in keeping with the strange
surroundings. Might reasonably have been expected that he would have
been at pains to recommend the Bill to acceptance of House. Not a
bit of it. If people insisted upon regarding it as the most important
business of Session, Prince ARTHUR couldn't help it. But he certainly
would not foster the delusion. In its potentiality of beneficent
effect, the Bill nothing in comparison with the Coercion Act or the
Light Railways Act.
"A poor thing," he said, in effect, and did not add, "but mine own."
If it was not his, certainly no one else would own it. Irish Members
received it with jeers. JOHN MORLEY denounced it as a monstrous
imposture. SQUIRE OF MALWOOD benignantly affected to regard it as a
little joke with which Ministers designed to vary a dull Session.
But a joke may be carried too far; better drop this now, and go to
business.
Oddly enough, the storm of contumely had effect of inspiring Prince
ARTHUR with new affection for his unwelcomed offspring, adding to the
strength of his evidently new conviction that the proposed expedient
was sound, and, if accepted, would prove efficacious.
"And what do _you_ think of the Tory scheme of Home Rule," I asked
JUSTIN MCCARTHY, when it was all over.
"_Timeo Danaos, et dona ferentes_," he said, dropping into his native
Celtic speech. "But in this case there is no room for apprehension.
BALFOUR may leave this wooden horse outside the gates for a month, and
the Trojans wouldn't touch it with a pair of tongs."
Prince ARTHUR grew more confident as the clouds gathered.
"I see very well," he said, "if I'm to stable this horse in the Home
Rule Troy, I must drag it all the way myself. I shall get no help
from either section of the garrison. But it's got to be done, and
I'll buckle-to. Once through, it will settle the more than ten years'
siege."
_Business done._--Prince ARTHUR left tugging away at his wooden horse.
_Friday Night._--House of Lords almost deserted. HALSBURY punctual in
his place, making most of opportunities on Woolsack whilst they yet
remain.
"Here to-day and gone to-morrow, TOBY," he remarked, with forced
gaiety; "but, when I hand in the Seals of Office, I shall at least
have the serene assurance to cheer me in my retirement that the whole
of my family, including collateral branches, have been provided for."
Amongst the prevailing dolour, the MARKISS in high spirits.
"Things not looking well in the Commons or the country, I admit," he
says; "but all is not lost yet. I have still a card to play, and I
believe it will score the trick. We shall presently have to go to the
country, and fight a confident Opposition. Successful Foreign Policy
is played out. Free Education has brought us no support; trifling
with Home Rule in Ireland will bring us enemies. Am convinced that
the thing to go to the country on is the fog. MIDDLETON's our man.
Been thinking over it for a week. See it now; shall take up question
of London fog; devise some means of battling with it; and then let
the worst come. A Government that has fought the fog will at least
carry London, and, London ours, we shall be able to stem the tide of
anarchy."
_Business done_.--The MARKISS takes a great resolution.
* * * * *
[Illustration: "THE HUNTING OF THE HARCOURT."
_(According to Fancy Sketch by "Observer" in the "Times.") "O where
and O where is our Harcourt Laddie gone?"_]
* * * * *
PADDYWHACK AND DR. BIRCH.--Everyone knows what "the Assisted Education
(Ireland) Bill" is. Why should not an Assisted Education (England)
Bill be brought in to enable public school-boys to secure, without
payment of any additional fee beyond that included for "swishing"
in the Bill sent home to the parents, the specimen of the legal
instrument with which their education may have been most helpfully
assisted?
* * * * *
"BECKY THE SECOND."--Those comparatively few who answered our query
as to where "the good _Becky_, the very opposite of _Becky_ in _Vanity
Fair_, was to be found in THACKERAY's works," and have referred us to
_A Shabby Genteel Story_, are right. The many who hit upon _Rebecca_
in the burlesque of _Ivanhoe_ mistook the question.
* * * * *
A CORRESPONDENT, signing himself "IGNORAMUS," writes to inquire "The
address of a Society called 'The London French Polishers.'" He says,
"I want my French polished up a bit before going to Paris."
* * * * *
"VIVE LA LIBERTE!"
The _Era_ at one time used to enjoy a monopoly of strangely, but
purely professionally-worded advertisements; but now the _Daily
Telegraph_ is creeping up and commencing to occupy the _Era's_
special domain. One day last week in the _D.T._ the following
notice appeared:--"Mr. CHARLES SUGDEN at liberty.--Address, &c." "At
Liberty!" How will this sound to the uninitiated millions? Taking for
granted that the readers, whose name is Legion, know perfectly well
who and what Mr. CHARLES SUGDEN is, having a lively recollection
of this talented actor as among the best representatives of bad
characters (excepting perhaps that of _William of Orange_, which was
Mr. SUGDEN's _chef d'oeuvre_, and about whose character there are
strong differences of opinion), will they not unnaturally be led
to inquire how, why, when and wherefore Mr. SUGDEN ever came to be
deprived of his liberty, and under what circumstances he has been
restored to it, or it to him? "At Liberty!" It has a grand and
glorious sound! This distinguished Thespian was never an "hereditary
bondsman," then why not always "at liberty"? But, be this as it may,
once more "the Rover is free!" SUGDEN is a name honourable behind and
before the foot-lights. In the Courts of Law it is a Legal Light, and
among Gas Companies the Sugden Burner is, we believe, justly famous.
Whatever the announcement may or may not mean, all sons of Liberty
will rejoice that this eccentric comedian is once more free, and on
the stage he will be again most welcome.
* * * * *
"Are you staying in town?" "No," answered Mrs. R.; "I'm going _au
contraire_." Which, she subsequently explained, was French for going
into the country.
* * * * *
[Illustration: FANCY PORTRAIT.
GENERAL _BOOM_BASTES.
_Solo and Chorus._
AIR--"_Piff! Paff! Pouf!" from "La Grande Duchosse."_
"ET PUFF! PUFF! PUFF!
ET TARA PARA POUM!
JE SUIS, MOI, LE GENERAL BOOM! BOOM!"
[_Repeats it ad lib._]
* * * * *
ON RELIGIOUS CYMBALISM.
The Salvationist Bands which perform in and out of London--(would
that they were restricted as the Moore and Burgess Minstrels restrict
themselves to one hall, never or "hardly ever," performing out
of London!)--everywhere and anywhere without respecting illness,
or the hours of public worship in our Churches and Chapels, or
the necessities of repose, show thereby a distinct want of that
consideration for the feelings of their fellow-citizens which simple
Christian folk call Charity. These Booth performers--which designation
savours suggestively of Mountebanks--would do well to play their
peculiar music and sing their peculiar hymns within the four walls
of their own places of worship, employing the intervals essential
for gaining of wind and for rest of muscle in meditating, perhaps
breathlessly, on the inspired Pauline teaching which will inform them
that even the works of an Apostle, if he have not charity, will be as
"sounding brass and tinkling cymbals," making indeed a great noise in
the world, but as one WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE has said, being mere "sound
and fury signifying nothing." "Liberty of Worship" by all means,
but not such Liberty for any one particular form of worship which,
interfering with the freedom of others, speedily degenerates into
fanatical licence, and so becomes a nuisance as intolerant as it is
intolerable.
* * * * *
ANGLO-AMERICAN FRENCH.--A new word must be added to our French
dictionaries. In _Le Figaro_ for Feb. 15, in an article on HECTOR
MALOT, occurs this expression, "_en ce temps de puffisme litteraire_."
In English we have had the word and the thing too, since the time of
SHERIDAN's _Critic_, but is any student of French journalism familiar
with it in the Parisian newspapers?
* * * * *
THE FANCY BALL.
[Illustration]
You came as GRETCHEN, hair of gold
And face so exquisitely sweet,
That I, like FAUST, had _certes_ sold
Myself, to win you, MARGUERITE.
Each plait enmeshed my struggling heart,
That wildly beat against my will;
And though at last we had to part,
In Dreamland I could see you still.
Another night, with tresses dark,
And kirtle strewn with _fleurs-de-lys_,
You came a flashing JOAN OF ARC,
Destructive of my bosom's peace.
The sword was girt upon your hip,
And thine the Maid's heroic glance;
I seemed to hear upon your lip,
The watchword of her life, "For France!"
Anon I saw thee as the Queen
Who held so many hearts in fee;
But MARY STUART scarce had been,
Methinks, so beautiful as thee.
I fain had gone and splintered lance,
As in the old days in our realm;
To win a kind approving glance,
And wear your glove upon my helm.
What, stately EDITH! Lives there yet
The lady of that royal line,
The peerless proud Plantagenet,
Will KENNETH's great emprise be mine?
We saw how high his hopes could soar;
We know the guerdon that he won.
Shall I find favour, as of yore
Did DAVID, Earl of Huntingdon?
'Tis certain, in whatever guise
You come, as heroine of song
Or story, to my faithful eyes
You shine the fairest of the throng.
However fanciful you be,
Whatever fancy dress befalls;
My fancy paints you fancy-free,
To fancy me at Fancy Balls!
* * * * *
THE REAL NINE POINTS OF THE LAW.--Costs.
* * * * *
THE UNOBSERVED OF ONE "OBSERVER."
From the account given by "OBSERVER" in the _Times_, it might be
inferred that "HARCOURT! HARCOURT!" was shouted all over the House,
in the lobbies, through the smoking-room, in the library, through
the cellars, in fact, everywhere within the sacred precincts, on
one memorable night, while at that very moment the wily Sir WILLIAM,
tucked comfortably up in his little bed, was murmuring softly to
himself, "HARCOURT! indeed! '_Ha! not caught_,' more likely!" and
so sweetly fell asleep.
* * * * *
MRS. R. read aloud from the latest Report of "B. and F. Bible
Society," "One cannot help thinking of the glorious field of labour
which lies open here before the Colporteur, and of the pleasant way
in which his labours are appreciated by all." But the worthy lady
pronounced colporteur as coalporter, and so on hearing from a
friend that "the Coalporters were on strike," Mrs. R. could not help
exclaiming, "Dear! how ungrateful of them, when they were being 'so
much appreciated by all!'"
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE WESTMINSTER WAX-WORK SHOW FOR THE SESSION 1892.
ROOM 2.]
* * * * *
OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
In _Tess of the D'Urbevilles_ (published by Messrs. OSGOOD, MCILVAINE
& CO.), Mr. THOMAS HARDY has given us a striking work of fiction,
bold in design, and elaborate in finish. The characters, with one
exception, are as true to life as are his graphic descriptions of
nature's own scenery; true that is to the types of such rural life as
he professes to represent,--the life led in our Christian country by
thousands and thousands of genuine Pagans, superstitious Boeotians,
with whom the schoolmaster can do but little, and the parson still
less. As to the clergymen who appear in this story, two of them are
priggishly academic, a third is a comfortable antiquarian, and the
fourth unacquainted with even the A.B.C. of his own pastoral theology.
[Illustration: A BRIGHT PARTICULAR STAR IN THE MILKY WAY.
Showing how an Angel without wings played on the harp to Milkmaid Tess
of the Tubbyveals, who was so proud of her calves.]
Since THACKERAY's _Captain Costigan_, and TOM ROBERTSON's dramatic
variation of him as _Eccles_ in _Caste_, no more original type of the
besotted, no-working working-man, has been given us ("at least, as far
as I am aware," interpolates the Baron, with a possible reservation)
than _Tess's_ father, _Durbeyfield_. His foolish wife, _Joan_, kindly
in a way, a fair housewife and helpmate, yet deficient in moral sense,
is another admirably-drawn character.
The only blot on this otherwise excellent work is the absurdly
melodramatic character of that "villain of the deepest dye," _Alec
D'Urbeville_, who would be thoroughly in his element in an Adelphi
Drama of the most approved type, ancient or modern. He is just the
sort of stage-scoundrel who from time to time seeks to take some mean
advantage of a heroine in distress, on which occasions said heroine
(of Adelphi Drama) will request him to "unhand her," or to "stand
aside and let her pass;" whereupon the dastardly ruffian retaliates
with a diabolical sneer of fiendish malice, his eyes ablaze with
passion, as, making his melodramatic exit at the O.P. wing, he growls,
"Aha! a day will come!" or "She must and shall be mine!" or, if
not making his exit, but remaining in centre of stage to assist in
forming a picture, he exclaims, with fiendish glee, "Now, pretty one,
you are in my power!" and so forth. 'Tis a great pity that such a
penny-plain-and-two-pence-coloured scoundrel should have been allowed
so strong a part among Mr. HARDY's excellent and unconventional
_dramatis personae_. Even the very, very strong ejaculations wherein
this bold bad man indulges on the slightest provocation belong to the
most antiquated vocabulary of theatrical ruffianism. However, there
he is, and all the perfumes of the Vale of Blackmoor will not suffice
for dispelling the strong odour of the footlights which pervades
every scene where this unconscionable scoundrel makes his appearance.
That he is ultimately disposed of by being stuck to the heart with
the carving-knife that had been brought in for cold-beef slicing at
breakfast, is some satisfaction. But far be it from the Baron to give
more than this hint in anticipation of the tragic _denoument_. Some
might accuse Mr. THOMAS HARDY of foolhardiness in so boldly telling
ugly truths about the Pagan Phyllises and Corydons of our dear old
Christian England; but we, his readers, have the author's word for
the truth of what he has written, as "the fortunes of _Tess of the
D'Urbevilles, a Pure Woman_," are "faithfully presented," by THOMAS
HARDY, and so his honour is pledged to the truth of this story which
his powers of narration have made so fascinating to a host of readers
besides the one who is a host in himself, namely,
THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.
* * * * *
JUSTICE FOR JUSTICE!
SCENE--_A Court of Justice. Prisoner, a young man of
eighteen, in the dock, weeping bitterly. His Uncle stands
before him, and occasionally offers him smelling salts.
General commiseration amongst the spectators, many of whom
are ladies armed with opera-glasses. Police Constable under
cross-examination._
_Counsel for the Defence._ And so, Constable, you had actually the
heart to read the warrant to the Prisoner?
_Witness._ I did, Sir, in the execution of my duty.
_Coun. for the Def._ (_scornfully_). Duty! and to this he said
nothing?
_Wit._ (_in a low tone_). Nothing, Sir--nothing!
_Coun. for the Def._ And I am not surprised! He might well
say nothing to such an announcement! HE, a Gentleman by
birth--education--everything--to be accused of forgery! It is
_too_ cruel!
_Mr. Justice Punch_ (_courteously but firmly_). I do not wish to
control the management of your case, Mr. MCSLANGER, but the time
for you to address the Jury has not yet arrived.
_Coun. for Def._ (_submissive but sulky_). As your Lordship pleases.
[_Resumes his seat._
_Usher_ (_calling_). Admiral CUTTERMAN!
_Admiral_ (_in a low tone_). Here!
[_He leaves the Prisoner, first handing him the smelling
salts, and enters the Witness Box._
_Council for the Prosecution_ (_after the Witness has been sworn_).
I think you are here on subpoena served by the Treasury.
_Witness_ (_with a glance of sadness at the Dock_). Had I not been
summoned to be present by those in authority, not the entreaties of
magicians would have brought me here!
_Coun. for the Pros._ I take it you are an unwilling Witness?
_Witness_ (_with difficulty suppressing acute emotion_). A most, a
very most unwilling Witness!
_Coun. for the Def._ (_scornfully_). Unwilling!
_Coun. for the Pros._ (_in a tone of remonstrance_). I really must beg
my learned friend to refrain from disturbing the proceedings. These
constant interruptions are most annoying.
_Coun. for the Def._ (_with force and violence_). I cannot
sufficiently express my indignation--
_Mr. Justice Punch_ (_sharply_). Then do not make the attempt.
_Coun. for the Def._ (_surlily_). As your Lordship pleases.
[_Subsides._
_Coun. for the Pros._ But, in spite of being an unwilling Witness, you
undoubtedly saw the Prisoner forge your name?
_Witness_ (_with his handkerchief to his eyes_). Alas! I did!
[_A pause, during which everyone regains equanimity._
_Coun. for Def._ (_on renewal of proceedings_). And so you are the
Uncle of the Prisoner?
_Witness_ (_sadly_). Yes, I am.
_Coun. for Def._ Still you are here, and are pushing that poor lad to
the prison-door! (_Prisoner snivels._) Yes, you are dealing him (one
of your own flesh and blood) a never-to-be-recalled injury!
_Witness_ (_plucking up spirit_). Only my duty, Sir. I obey only my
duty!
_Coun. for Def._ Your duty! Why, man, how can it be your duty?
_Mr. Justice Punch_ (_seriously_). Again I must interpose. (_To_
Counsel.) Mr. MCSLANGER, I must once more remind you that your
business at present is to ask questions, not to make speeches.
_Coun. for Def._ But, my Lord, the task is a difficult one.
_Mr. Justice Punch._ If you find it beyond your powers, no doubt some
of your colleagues will come willingly to your assistance.
_Coun. for Def._ No, my Lord, I do not mean what your Lordship means.
I am quite capable of performing the duties it has been my pleasure
and pride to accept.
_Mr. Justice Punch_ (_wearily_). Pray let us get on?
_Coun. for Def._ Do you not think it a grossly cruel and revolting
thing that a man should give evidence against his near relative?
_Witness_ (_greatly agitated_). My Lord, I appeal to you, is it fair
that I should be treated in this fashion?
_Mr. Justice Punch_ (_emphatically_). No, it is not! You are here,
Sir, in performance of a solemn duty--to assist the ends of justice in
the punishment, and consequently prevention, of crime. It is not right
that in the witness-box you should be badgered and insulted as if you
were worthy of the dock! One can feel some sympathy with the
relatives of the prisoner, because he appears to have had respectable
surroundings. But if he is convicted of forgery, it will be his own
fault! I shall accept the verdict as a proof that education and birth
are not safeguards to prevent crime. And as for you, Sir (_turning
angrily to_ Coun. for Def.), let me tell you that you degrade your
office when you make the wig and the gown the shield of the brute and
the bully. Let us have no more of it!
_Coun. for Def._ (_subdued but depressed_). As your Lordship pleases.
_Mr. Justice Punch._ It does so please me, and I think that it will
equally please all my learned brothers who sit in Royal Courts
to follow my example! It is time that the Witness, as well as the
accused, received proper protection. I hope my words will be taken to
heart in another place!
[_The Scene closes in on his Lordship's suggestion._
* * * * *