Book: Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, March 12, 1892
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Various >> Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, March 12, 1892
This, as I said, is the sort of Whist I rather enjoy; but when it
comes to playing in sober earnest at the Club, there is a different
tale to tell.
(_This different tale will be told in the Duffer's next._)
* * * * *
"AIRY FAIRY LILLY UN!"--One day last week, MR. W.S. LILLY--i.e.
W. "SHIBBOLETHS" LILLY--delivered an excellent lecture on the
Papal-Italian question, and although at Birmingham, it was by no means
a brummagem discourse. But to quote the immortal ballad of _Billy
Taylor_, "When the Captain he come for to hear on't, He werry much
applauded what she'd done," and, to apply the lines to the present
instance, "When the POPE he comes for to hear on't," _will_ he "werry
much applaud," the opinions honestly and courteously enough expressed
in this lecture? By the way, "LEO and the Lilly" would make a fine
subject for a historical cartoon. The learned Lecturer took care to
observe, with all the true modesty of the humble flower from which
his name is derived, that he spoke only the opinion of a party, which
party, whether small, considerable, or large, his audience could judge
for themselves with the unclothed optic, as the party in question was,
not to put too fine a point on it, Himself.
* * * * *
[Illustration: DANCING MEN.
"WHAT A CHARMING WALTZ THEY'RE PLAYING UPSTAIRS. (MORE CHAMPAGNE,
WAITER. THANKS!)"
"I'VE ONLY JUST COME--NOT BEEN UPSTAIRS YET. ONE HEARS THE MUSIC SO
MUCH BETTER DOWN HERE. (COLD CUTLET, PLEASE, AND SALAD. THANKS!)"]
* * * * *
"A LITTLE HOLIDAY!"
[It is proposed that 450,000 colliers belonging to the Miners'
Federation should cease work for a week or a fortnight. This,
it is said, is regarded as an "amicable" Strike, not against
the Masters, but to raise the price of coal by producing an
artificial scarcity, and thus avoiding a threatened reduction
of wages consequent upon over-production. This the Miners
call, "Going on Play."]
_Out-of-Worker to Out-on-Player_:--
Who talks of "Solidarity of Labour,"--
A favourite shibboleth in these our days?--
To recognise one's duty to one's neighbour
Is that which all--in theory--will praise.
And Unions are upheld, and "Blacklegs" scouted--
Friends of Fraternity _their_ heads must break
To prove their loyal brotherhood undoubted!--
But _here_ there seems to be some slight mistake.
Going on Play, mate, you of the broad shoulders?
Take holiday awhile from pick and lamp?
Well your hard toil impresses all beholders,
Sweating amidst black seams and choking "damp."
A "holiday," for rest and recreation,
None would begrudge you. But at the expense
Of every other worker in the nation?
I don't quite see it! Maybe I am dense.
A "friendly" Strike, you call it; "amicable"!
Nice sounding words! Strikes mostly mean hot war.
But in to-day's wild Socialistic Babel
Blest if I always know just where we are.
But if I'm out of work, or out of fuel,
Me and a many thousand like me, mate,
Your "friendly" conflict seems a _leetle_ cruel
To us, with idle hands or empty grate.
I'd like to taste the sweets of "solidarity"
In this connection; so would my pale friend;
He's a poor Clerk. I fancy human charity,
_All round_, a lot of bitter strife would end;
And if _that_'s "solidarity," I'm for it;
But in your "play" _are_ you considering _us_?
No need for snivelling bunkum; I abhor it;
But does fraternity shape itself _thus_?
Must fight for your own hand? Oh, ah! precisely.
Only that's ISHMAEL, after all, right out.
Maybe that for yourself you're acting wisely,--
Though even that seems open to some doubt,--
But if your self-advancement means a smasher
To mill-hand, poor mechanic, labourer, clerk,
Without a fire to fry his slender "rasher,"
Fraternity's outlook still looks rather dark.
With Coal two bob a hundred, and still rising,
Poor folk who buy it by the fourteen pound,
(Dukes at St. James's Hall, this sounds surprising,
But if you'd understand it, just look round!)
Dockers and Brickies, charwomen and "childer,"
With such small deer, mate, as my friend and me,
Find one more "Social Question" to bewilder
The small brains left us by chill poverty.
Fighting _our_ battle? Humph! A rather roundabout
Way of so doing! P'r'aps your Masters, too,
Would claim the same--there _are_ such Bosses found about;
Westminsters, Liveseys, Norwoods, and that crew,
All for our good, not only Strike-Committees,
But Rate-payers' Defence Leagues, and the like!
Oh, the poor Propertied Classes! How one pities
Those victims of the School Board, Council, Strike!
If Miners and Mine-Owners pull together
To raise the price of Coal--well, it may suit
Both them and you. But, in this bitter weather,
Your "Solidarity" brings _us_ bitter fruit.
When our pinched fire dies down to its last ember,
The picture of you "making holiday" thus
Won't warm our wives and kids. Strike!--but remember
That what is "Play" to you means death to us!
* * * * *
A POSER FOR MR. WEATHERBY.--Mrs. RAM is not in the least astonished at
its being said that certain horses turn out "regular flyers," because,
she says, "she has often heard of mares' nests."
* * * * *
"MINER PREMISES."--In the Coal Districts.
* * * * *
[Illustration: "A LITTLE HOLIDAY!!"
WORKING-MAN AND } "AH! IT'S ALL VERY WELL,--BUT WHAT'S _PLAY_
POOR CLERK. } TO _YOU_ IS _DEATH_ TO _US_."
* * * * *
WHAT DO THEY MEAN BY IT?
In an interesting description (that appeared in the _Times_ for
Saturday, February 27) of the working of the "Jacquard Card-Preparing
Machine," which is, it appears, "a machine for superseding the human
brain, eye, and hand"--(so that soon all who can afford it will be
fitted up with these machines, and keep their brains, eyes, and hands
in reserve for very special occasions)--it was stated that "the blank
cards are automatically fed to the punches." That punches should be
spelt without the capital P is of course a Printer's error, deserving
capital punishment. _Mr. P._ thinks it right to state in answer to
numerous inquiries, that all his _Punches_ speak by the card. But
as to even the smallest of the _Punch_ family being "fed" on cards,
or getting his or her living by cards, the statement is utterly at
variance with the facts. _Mr. P._ is quite sure that the "Jacquard
Automatic Reading and Punching Syndicate" will at once retract
the injurious statement, or the youthful, vigorous and pugnacious
_Punches_ will be inquiring of _Mr. P._, as _Sam Weller_ did of _Mr.
Pickwick_ when that gentleman's great name was apparently taken in
vain, "Ain't nobody to be whopped for takin' this here liberty?" that
is, adapting the question to the present occasion, "Ain't nobody's
head to be Punch'd for this mis-use of an ancient and honourable
name?"
* * * * *
THE NAIL-MAKERS' STRIKE.--They refuse to work unless higher wages are
paid "down on the nail."
* * * * *
[Illustration: A "HUNTING FIXTURE."
HUNG UP ON A STILE, AND HOUNDS RUNNING LIKE MAD.]
* * * * *
CRIES WITHOUT WOOL.
NO. II.--THE GROWL OF THE BEAR.
(_BY A SINGER IN_ "_AIR_.")
["In consequence of the rumour that,... American stocks
declined heavily.... The rumour proved totally without
foundation."--_Any Money-article; any day._]
[Illustration]
There is little that goads us with fiercer despair
(Those who buy, you perpend, stock, debenture or share,
Such as speculate mainly; investors are rare--)
Than this growl ill-conditioned of pestilent Bear!
With a craftiness planned and a malice unfair,
Improvising a scare unsubstantial as air--
Now it's "war," now "disease," and the world must prepare
For the death of, say, GOULD, or a Chilian flare;
Or the "cutting of rates:" I am quite unaware
What it means, I declare, but it's "cutting," I swear,
To a person like me, not a flush millionaire
Who must "realise" scrip,--and the canker of care.
It would seem, we could e'er so conveniently spare
From a world too competitive, blarneyed with blare,
Both the Yankee of Wall-Street, his London _confrere_,
And all criers of "Lost!" when no losses are there;
All the wreckers, whose lair is secure past compare,
All who batten on bones with a maw debonair,
And the carcase of Poverty torture and tear
With historical fraud, and benevolent glare.
Who will join me in sport that is novel--who'll dare
In his prosperous pit to go baiting the "Bear,"
Who will lead him a dance, who his talons will pare,
And make summary work of this ursine affair?
* * * * *
"MUST IT COME TO THIS?"
SCENE--_The War Office. Present Mr. STANHOPE; to him enter
Inspector-General PUNCH.
_Mr. Stanhope_. Ah, Sir, glad to see you. Can I do anything for you?
_Inspector-General_. Well, not for me--but you may and must do
something for those I represent--the Volunteer Officers.
_Mr. Stan._ Oh, you have come about them, have you? Well, you saw what
I said about them in my Memorandum the other day?
_In.-Gen._ I noticed what you did _not_ say--you hoped during the
present year to see some practical proposals.
_Mr. Stan._ Well, what do you want more?
_In.-Gen._ The proposals themselves.
_Mr. Stan._ They will come in good time.
_In.-Gen._ No time in this matter will be good--except the present.
_Mr. Stan._ Oh, you leave it to me, you will see it will be all right.
_In.-Gen._ No--unless you attend to the matter at once--now--at this
moment.
_Mr. Stan._ How you do take me up! What a hurry you are in!
_In.-Gen._ Shilly-shallying to the rear--action to the front. Now,
then, produce your proposals.
_Mr. Stan._ (_reluctantly producing a paper from a pigeon-hole_).
Well, here they are--(_giving them_)--what do you think of them?
_In.-Gen._ (_after a hurried perusal_). Humph! At any rate let them
he published at once, that those interested may be able to come to
an immediate decision as to their utility. Do you hear, Sir? Adieu!
[_Exit._
(_And if the SECRETARY of STATE for WAR is a wise man, he
will act upon the hint thus offered him._)
* * * * *
[Illustration: GRAND OLD ENERGY.
[It is stated that Mr. GLADSTONE feels very much the want of exercise
since his return to Parliamentary duties.]]
* * * * *
DREAMS.
[Mr. JOHN MORLEY having said that he would be sorry for the
country whose young men ceased to dream dreams, Lord RANDOLPH
CHURCHILL twitted him with having described the Progressive
party as young men who dream dreams, and added, "They are
words which I will never let die."]
Dreams, my dear Lord? Well, there are dreams _and_ dreams,
Are those of BURNS much worse than those of WEMYSS?
Are WESTMINSTER's vain visions, though mature
The dreamer, less absurd or more obscure
Than those of some "young man" who dares to hope
That he with crowded London's ills can cope?
"Behold this dreamer cometh!" So of old
The sons of JACOB, envious, scornful, cold,
And fearful for their privilege of birth
And of possession, in derisive mirth,
Cried at young JOSEPH's coming. A "young man,"
O reverend oracle! Yet his wit outran,
His wisdom far outsoared, for all their boast,
The _nous_ collective of the elder host;
And PHARAOH, when his "wise men" vainly schemed,
Found statesmanship in a young man who dreamed.
You will not let them die? Well, as you list!
The words, Sir, with a Machiavellian twist,
Tickle the ears of those smart word-fence blinds,
And garbled catch-words win unwary minds,
And, maybe, witless votes. Poor London dreams
Of--many things most horrible to WEMYSS!
The nightmare-incubus of old abuse
Propertied privilege, expense profuse
Of many lives for one, the dead-hand's grip
On the slow generations, the sharp whip
Of a compulsory poverty, the gloom
Of that high-rated den, miscalled a Home!
All these it knows, and many miseries more,
And dreams of--Betterment! You'll "never let die.
JOHN MORLEY's words?" You cannot, though you try.
In vain 'gainst dreaming youth you feign to scream,
Because you're yet a Young Man--and you Dream!
* * * * *
[Illustration: VERY LITERAL.
_The Major_. "NO DOUBT YOU'RE VERY FOND OF ANTIQUES, MISS EUGENIA?"
_Miss Eugenia_. "OH YES, INDEED!--AND I'M DEVOTED TO GRANDMAMMA!"]
* * * * *
ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
[Illustration: Lord Elcho.]
_House of Commons, Monday, February 29._--Mr. G. looked in to-night
from the Riviera; greeted with rousing cheer from Opposition; didn't
expect to see him to-day; just arrived from Mediterranean _via_ Paris;
most men in such circumstances would have gone straight home, read
their letters, had quiet dinner, "and so to bed," as the late Mr.
PEPYS occasionally remarked.
"That's all very well for you elderly fellows, TOBY," said Mr.
G., beaming with health and smiles. "ARMITSTEAD, for example, went
straight off home. I was careful to see about that; he's a fine
fellow, and I humoured him by letting him suppose he was looking after
me as far as Biarritz, and on to Pau. In no other way could I have
got him to make a holiday. Think I rather wore him out at St. Raphael.
When a man gets over sixty he doesn't care about his ten or fifteen
mile walk before luncheon. However, I brought ARMITSTEAD back all
right, and, packing him off home at Charing Cross, just popped in here
to see how you are getting on."
In respect of business, not getting on at all. Things going awry.
Ministerialists won't come up to scratch in Division Lobby; Majority
that used to flash forth a hundred-candlelight strong, now flickered
down to a score. Opposition growing jubilant and aggressive; Irish
Members, long quiescent, waking up as of yore. To-night Prince ARTHUR,
stung to quick by remarks from JOHN DILLON, made rattling speech
defending his Irish policy; poured contumely and scorn on heads of
Irish Members.
"You," he said, with gesture of passionate scorn, "see no source of
regeneration for Ireland but in refusal of tenants to pay their rent."
Lord ELCHO and other young bloods on Ministerial Bench cheered; old
stagers looked grave.
"Ah, ah!" said CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN, looking on from the Front
Opposition Bench, "I spy the beard of the Irish Secretary under the
muffler of the Leader of the House."
"Dear me," said ESSLEMONT, who overheard the remark; "I don't remember
BALFOUR with a beard when he was at the Irish Office. You're not
mixing him up with GRANDOLPH?"
"Get thee to a nunnery, worthy draper," said CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN, "and
in that leisurely retirement read your SHAKSPEARE."
"A nunnery!" cried ESSLEMONT, more than ever bewildered; "why they
wouldn't let me in. I suppose you mean a monastery; but man and boy
for fifty years I've gone to Kirk, and nothing would--" By this time
CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN was out of hearing.
_Business done_.--One Vote in Committee of Supply.
_Tuesday_.--The MARKISS not in his place in Lords to-night. Looked in
at Arlington Street to inquire if absence was due to illness.
"Not at all, TOBY," said the MARKISS who, indeed, looked quite fit.
"There was nothing particular on the paper to-night, so I didn't go
down. It's necessary for Nephew ARTHUR to be regular in his attendance
on the Commons. But in the Lords it's different. A happy fortune
places the Leader there in a position that relieves him from strain
of unbroken attendance. With STRATHEDEN AND CAMPBELL looking after
foreign policy, and DENMAN taking charge of home affairs, my post is
really a sinecure. They talk about ending or mending of the House of
Lords; but as long as we are blessed with this remarkable combination
of legislative and administrative capacity we can laugh at the idle
threats."
It was DENMAN who took the floor to-night; moved Second Reading of
a Bill, the simple and comprehensive object of which was to repeal
Local Government Acts of England and Scotland. These passed only a
Session or two ago by continuous united effort of both Houses of
Parliament. DENMAN been closely watching them in operation. Finds
them disappointing, and so would have them repealed. House fully
constituted, with LORD CHANCELLOR on Woolsack, Mace on Table, and
quorum present; gravely listens, whilst tall, white-haired, sad-faced
man rambles on in plaintive voice, urging proposition which, if
carried out, would arrest machinery of Local Government throughout
the Kingdom, leaving all to be gone over again. No one smiles, much
less winks or wags the head. It is just as solemn and as orderly as
if it were the MARKISS himself submitting a Resolution or making
a statement. Only, when the plaintive voice ceases and the tall
figure is reseated on the Bench, nobody proposes to continue the
conversation. LORD CHANCELLOR rapidly gabbles shibboleth in which
"content" stumbles over "not content."
"Notcontentshaveit," says LORD CHANCELLOR, by way of last word;
leaves Woolsack; the few Peers slowly pass out. It seems the House has
adjourned, DENMAN's Motion being negatived without Division, and Local
Government in England and Scotland will proceed to-morrow as it has
gone on to-day.
_Business done_.--House of Commons, having agreed to meet at two
o'clock to-morrow instead of twelve, makes up for it by getting itself
Counted Out at eight o'clock.
_Wednesday_.--Came across LOCKWOOD this afternoon in remote part
of corridor, gesticulating whilst he recited some lines. Fancy he's
getting up that lecture on the "Lawyers in _Pickwick_," announced for
delivery in York on the 15th. Most interesting undertaking. As CHARLES
RUSSELL says, "_Coke-upon-Lyttleton_ will have to take a back shelf in
the Law libraries when _Lockwood-upon-Dickens_ is in circulation."
Wonder how he finds time for these excursions into the bye-paths
of literature? Hands full at the Bar; frequent attendant here; and
yet he has time to discover _Pickwick_! He tells me great secret of
capability for this kind of work is plain living and regular habits.
"A chop or steak at eight o'clock with a potato (boiled in its jacket)
and a tumbler of toast-and-water; that's my regular dinner; leaves me
clear-headed and free for a couple of hours' work at my briefs before
I go to bed. Except when kept down at House, rarely out of bed after
eleven. Up at five; cold bath; dry toast; hot milk; another grind
at my briefs; ride down to Court; at it all day, with intervals for
Abernethy biscuit when Court adjourns; and so the mill goes round."
"Don't you think," said BOB REID, "it's a little unprofessional of
LOCKWOOD going into this _Pickwick_ business? The cases were never,
that I know of, reported in the _Law Journal_. Good fellow LOCKWOOD,
but a little apt to stray outside the ropes. Now he's started
lecturing, there's no knowing how far he'll go. We may see him on the
stage bowling BEERBOHM TREE out as _Hamlet_, or even with his face
corked, dancing a breakdown at St. James's Hall. What does he want to
go a-lecturing for? Do you think he'll draw?"
"Draw!" I cried. "Why, he's always drawing; he's drawn for _Punch_."
That shut up Master BOB. When you want to hear disparaging remarks
about a man, nothing like going to his bosom friend. _Business
done_.--Irish.
[Illustration: "Monumental Suavity."]
_Thursday_.--Mr. G. in fine form to-night; delivered two speeches,
each in highest form of Parliamentary Debate. Infinite variety in
manner. Before dinner, Prince ARTHUR moved to take Morning Sittings
on Tuesdays and Fridays for rest of Session. That means virtual
appropriation on very threshold of Session of time belonging to
private Members. They furious; Mr. G. in benignest mood; shocked, he
must confess, at Prince ARTHUR's unparalleled greed; but not disposed
to turn a deaf ear to his importunity. "If you'd make it Easter, now,"
he said, with winning voice and manner, "limit the scope of resolution
to that date, I'm not sure that I should feel disposed to say you
nay."
Prince ARTHUR jumped at proposal. Sufficient unto Easter are the
Morning Sittings thereof. If he wanted more he could ask again.
Meanwhile he was in possession of what he wanted.
House looked on in amazement at this little scene. Opposition expected
Mr. G. would have thundered forth denunciations of Prince ARTHUR's
audacity. Here he was making terms with the enemy; doing it all, too,
with imposingly judicial manner that was irresistible. Before House
quite knew where it was, everything was settled.
"'Now I'm furnished, Now I'm furnished, for my flight'--of oratory."
It was BLUNDELL MAPLE chanting this line, sung in another place
by _Hecate_. Flight didn't amount to more than asking question as
to whether audiences at unlicensed places of entertainment (in
neighbourhood of Tottenham Court Road or elsewhere) open for Radical
or Liberal entertainments, are duly protected from fire? Members went
off to dinner, pondering on this conundrum. Came back to find Mr. G.
on his legs again, denouncing proposition to vote L20,000 for survey
of railway from Mombasa to Nyanza. A splendid piece of invective;
almost literally shrivelled up poor JOKIM, at whom some of the
scorching flame was pointed with outstretched forefinger. For more
than half an hour, at period of night when most gentlemen of his
years are snugly tucked up in bed, Mr. G. held the audience entranced,
thunderous cheers rolling forth in rapid succession from Liberal
ranks, now and then answered by low growl from Ministerialists.
[Illustration: The Man who Owns a Mountain.]
"What a man it is!" cried KENRICK, looking on with monumental suavity;
"almost sorry he left us. Sometimes, at his best, he equals our JOE."
_Business done_.--A couple of Votes in Supply.
_Friday_.--BRYCE at last got access to mountains in Scotland.
Been wandering round foot of them through many Sessions, and several
Parliaments. Always something happened to prevent his reaching the
top. Don't believe he'd have got there to-night, only for FARQUHARSON.
When F. came forward to second Motion, incidentally observing, "I'm
the proprietor of a mountain myself," we felt something must be done,
and BRYCE's Motion was agreed to.
FARQUHARSON, for rest of evening, object of respectful regard. Some
inquiry as to where he kept his mountain. Did he bring it to Town
with him when he came up for the Session? And, when at home, was he in
habit of leaving it out all night?
"Don't happen to have it about you, I suppose?" WILFRID LAWSON asked,
eyeing his trousers' pockets.
FARQUHARSON very reticent on subject. Rumour, just before House
adjourned, that his mountain is one of those situated in the Moon--but
this only envy.
_Business done_.--Access secured to FARQUHARSON's mountain and others
in Scotland.
* * * * *
STRANGE CHARGE AGAINST A GREAT POET.--Lord TENNYSON's _Robin Hood_
is to be produced at DALY's, New York, and simultaneously, to secure
copyright, by one performance only, at the Lyceum. We never thought
TENNYSON a plagiarist before this, but here is proof positive he's at
it now,--Lord TENNYSON's _robbing Hood_!!
* * * * *
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.