Book: Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, March 26, 1892
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Various >> Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, March 26, 1892
EXAMPLE.--_CHAPTER I.--The harvest-moon was slowly rising. The
heather, dried and burnt by the mid-day sun, appeared, to the eye
unaccustomed to this aspect of the country, to be merely a rugged
divergence from the main road. Descending carefully from his dog-cart,
a small man in a big coat, muffled up to the eyes, proceeded leisurely
to--_
Now, then, _what_ did he leisurely proceed to do? There's a fortune in
it!--somewhere!--says
THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.
* * * * *
[Illustration: STUDIES IN ANIMAL LIFE.
THE GOORMONG. (_EPICURI DE GREGE PORCUS. BRITISH ISLES._)
_Mr. Huggins._ "_WHAT_ A 'EAVENLY DINNER IT WAS!"
_Mr. Buggins._ "B'LIEVE YER! MYKES YER WISH YER WAS BORN 'OLLER!"]
* * * * *
SPRING TIME IN LEAP YEAR;
OR, THE JOLLY BATHERS.
_First Jolly Bather_ (_singing, quaveringly_):--
Spring's delights are now revi-i-i-vi-i-i-ng,
Verdant leaflets deck each spr-a-ay!
_Second Jolly Bather_ (_impatiently_). _Don't_, ARTHUR, make that
row! B-r-r-r! (_Shivers._) Spring's _delights_, indeed! And as to
the "verdant leaflets" (unless you mean election squibs), where _are_
they?
_First Ditto._ Ah, "verdant leaflets" not a bad name for Financial
Reform tracts, _et id genus omne_. Touch of your old satirical
Saturday-Reviewish style there, Nunky!
_Second Ditto_ (_hastily_). Oh, bother! What are we here for?
_First Ditto_ (_coolly_). Why, to _bathe_, I presume.
_Second Ditto._ Bah! One would think, ARTHUR, we belonged to that
society of lunatics who make a point of taking a matutinal plunge in
the Serpentine every morning, all the year round, _even if they have
to break the ice to do it_! Ineffable idiots! [_Curls up._
_First Ditto._ Well, we may as well put a good face on it, Uncle.
[_Grimaces._
_Second Ditto_. Ah, yes, you can say so--at _your_ age, ARTHUR. I like
my morning tub in my bath-room--with the chill off.
[_Wraps his towel round his neck._
_First Ditto_. (_Sings again, tremolo_):--
Why linger shivering on the brink,
And fear to launch away?
_Second Ditto_ (_sharply_). Why, you're at it again, ARTHUR! And a
Conventicler's hymn, too, this time. I'm a-a-shamed of you.
_First Ditto_. Ah! that's what LABOUCHERE, O'KELLY, CONYBEARE, and
Company say! _I_ don't mind; in fact, as I told 'em, I rather like it.
Does me a world of good.
_Second Ditto_ (_admiringly_). Ah! you _have_ got a nerve, ARTHUR. I
_will_ say that for you. Still, you've been giving them something to
"guy" you about lately, you know.
_First Ditto_ (_sharply_). Ah! have I? Well, "I can assure you that
I am the last person in the world to object to a process from which I
have profited so much."
_Second Ditto_. Oh, yes, that was all very well for them, over yonder.
In fact, I own it was rather neatly put.
_First Ditto_ (_slily_). Didn't "lack finish," was sufficiently "_ad
unguem_," eh, Nunky?
_Second Ditto_ (_moodily_). Ah! what do you youngsters know about
those fine old fighting days? I didn't love DIZZY, but he was a neat
hand with the foils, boy.
_First Ditto_. Especially in a bout with a friend,--with the buttons
off. But I say, this isn't bathing, you know!
_Second Ditto_. No. (_Eyeing the stream distastefully._) Hadn't
we better postpone the pleasure till a little later in the season,
ARTHUR. When those "Spring's delights" of which you melodiously
twangle are a leetle more _en evidence_.
_First Ditto_ (_pipes_). Hawthorn buds give joyful tidings.
Welcome, youths, 'tis bright bath-day!
_Second Ditto_. Ah! if we're here to do the Eclogue business, STREPHON
can take his turn, as well as CORYDON. [_Sings._
Let us plunge into the ri-i-i-v-e-e-r!
Leave our vesture on the bank!
_First Ditto_. Bless me, STREPHON, how you shi-i-v-e-e-r!
_Second Ditto_. 'Tis like a fishmonger's tank!
_First Ditto_. Pooh! 'tis lovely--when you're in it;
One bold header, and 'tis done!
_Second Ditto_. Ah, quite so, but--wait a minute,
Till I've warmed me with a run.
That will stir my circulation;
For the moment I am "friz."
_First Ditto_. _Magnifique!_ my dear relation;
But, you'll own, it is not "biz."
_Both_. We must o-o-o-ow-n it is not "biz!"
_Second Ditto_. Well, no, I suppose it isn't, ARTHUR. By the way,
what's that row behind there?
_First Ditto_. (_looking_). By Jove! it's that Gladstone gang! They've
tracked us! (_Sings_)--
They're after us! They're after us!
_We_'re the individuals they require.
_Second Ditto_. (_sardonically_). What a lyric _repertoire_ you have,
ARTHUR! Old English glee, Puritan psalmody. Music-hall song, all come
equally well to you, it seems. But those roughs mean mischief, Nephew
mine!
[Illustration: SPRING TIME IN LEAP YEAR.
SALISBURY. "DON'T YOU THINK, NEPHEW ARTHUR, WE'D BETTER
_PLUNGE_--BEFORE WE'RE _PUSHED_?"]
_First Ditto_. Doubtless! They always do. And they've done some
lately, drat them! I say, wouldn't they like _to shove us in_, as they
did the old witches, _to see if we can swim_?
_Second Ditto_. By Jove! I shouldn't wonder if they tried. Don't you
think, ARTHUR, (_valiantly_) it would be better, more manly, and more
politic, perchance, _to plunge in than to be pushed_?
_First Ditto_ (_drily_). Ah! just as the brave sheep--
"Committed suicide to save themselves from slaughter."
_Second Ditto_. Oh, hang your quotations! Happy omen! 'Tis Leap Year,
is it not? Just a leap; though, like DERBY's, it be "in the dark,"
and--well, _we shall know where we are, anyhow!_
_First Ditto_. Ah, just so; and that's something!
[_Left considering._
* * * * *
[Illustration: TEMPTATION.
_Hairdresser_. "ANY _BAY-RUM_, SIR?"
_Middy_. "THANK YOU--A--NO! NOT QUITE so EARLY IN THE MORNING--YOU
KNOW!"]
* * * * *
"CLERK ME NO CLERKS."
It seems Sir E.C., Q.C., likes
The blatant, brazen, Boothian band,
Admires "abstaining" zeal that strikes
The biggest drum with boldest hand.
He says, "You must not judge some others' case
By tastes much more refined," less commonplace.
Yet, as Sir EDWARD disagrees
With those whose tastes he thus divined,
It's manifestly clear he sees
_His_ taste in music's not "refined."
'Twas written long ago by CHAUCER's pen,
"The gretest clerkes ben not the wisest men."
* * * * *
"MY DEAR EYES! WHAT! SEE-USAN!"
At the Prince of Wales's, Mr. ARTHUR ROBERTS, as _Captain Crosstree_,
is more ARTHUR ROBERTS than ever, and, consequently, immensely droll.
While he is on the stage, the audience is convulsed with spasmodic
laughter, excepting when he tries to forget himself and his drollery
in a loyal attempt at doing justice to Messrs. SIMS' AND PETTITT's
words, and to the serious business of some situation intended to be
dramatic. At such moments the laughter of the House is checked, a
sudden gloom comes over the faces that were but now on the broad grin,
even the lineaments of Mr. ROBERTS become agonised, and the audience,
like _Christopher Sly_ when bored by the Duke's players, mutter to
themselves, "would t'were done." But these painful seconds, which, at
the time, seem hours, are, we are glad to say, but brief and passing
shadows over Mr. ROBERTS' own quaint humour which speedily reasserts
itself, and, the Pettitt-and-Sims fetters being cast aside, the
People's ARTHUR is himself again, and more so than ever. And, when he
_is_ himself, he is simply the most absurd person that ever faced the
footlights.
[Illustration: _Arthur Roberts_ (_to Arthur Williams_). "The boat's
getting along nicely, now we've got rid of some of the heavy cargo."]
Miss NELLIE STEWART is a pretty singing, dancing, twisting, twirling
_Susan_. But what induced handsome Miss MARION BURTON, once so gay
and sprightly as _Cherubino_ in _Le Nozze di Figaro_, to essay this
musically dreary part of _William_, and, further, to wear a costume
about as unlike that of the nautical and traditional _William_ as can
well be imagined, is a puzzle to anyone who knows what she _has_ done
and _can_ do. Not a bit of dash in the character; all the good old
conventional British Tar taken right out of it. She can indeed say
with the fool in _The Yeomen of the Guard_, "I've got a song to sing,
oh!" for she has two or three, but her "voice is wasted on the desert
air," as they go for nothing, and therefore probably nobody else could
make them go for anything.
Mr. ARTHUR WILLIAMS is funny, but his Variety Show scene, with
soliloquy and song, is too long; or rather, it would not be too long,
if the piece were only cut down to a two hours' entertainment.
[Illustration: A Mug of Burton.]
Let this "Comic Opera," for so is it described in the bills, be
cut down as ruthlessly, but not as blindly, as _William_ cut down
_Crosstree_; let something catching be substituted for most of the
music of the First Act,--specially omitting the "Why, certainly!"
interpolation, which is a feeble but evident imitation of Mr. W.S.
GILBERT's classic "What, never?" "Well, hardly ever;" let the music
of the Second Act be taken out by handfuls, and, if possible, let what
remains be replaced by something sparkling; then, with less of sweet
but sad _William_--for the present version of the part is quite
"BURTON's _Anatomy of Melancholy_,"--with less of fascinating but
squirming _Susan_, far less of minor characters generally, and more,
by comparison, of the two MACS--meaning the two ARTHURS with the
plural names ROBERTS and WILLIAMS,--also a telling song for Mr.
CHAUNCEY OLCOTT (whose singing now wins an _encore_ for an indifferent
ballad),--with the Captain's-giggy hornpipe of Mr. WILLIE WARD
retained, as also the graceful dancing of Miss KATIE SEYMOUR, and
then, omitting as much of the plot and authors' written dialogue as
can be conveniently spared,--very little of it would be missed,--there
is no rhyme or reason why _Blue-Eyed Susan_ should not run on as a
Variety Entertainment for any number of nights and days, during which
fresh material can be constantly substituted by Messrs. ROBERTS & Co.
of the Drollery Company, Unlimited, without racking the fertile brains
of Messrs. PETTITT AND SIMS.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE SALVATION HOUSE OF COMMONS. OUR PARLIAMENTARY
ARTIST'S DREAM, MARCH 10.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: ONE FOR HIM.
_Major Spooneleigh_. "AND YOU RIDE SO WELL, AND--ER--YOU DRIVE
SO WONDERFULLY WELL, AND--ER--YOU DANCE SO--ER--BEAUTIFULLY, AND
YOU--ER--PLAY LAWN-TENNIS SO--ER--EXQUISITELY, AND--ER--OF COURSE YOU
FISH ALSO?"
_Mrs. Dasher_. "NEVER FOR COMPLIMENTS, I ASSURE YOU; AND CERTAINLY NOT
IN SHALLOW WATERS!"]
* * * * *
ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
[Illustration: Chief Secretary.]
_House of Commons, Monday, March_ 14.--JACKSON turned up to-night
answering questions from Irish Members. This reminds us he's Irish
Secretary. Been so of course since Parliament met; but quite forgotten
it. Mention this to the SPEAKER who looked a little dull while Captain
PRICE was discoursing on Navy Affairs in Committee of Supply. So went
up to have a little chat with him in the Chair.
"My dear TOBY," he said, "I don't know whether you meant it, but
you've paid JACKSON the highest compliment it is possible to convey.
When in these times the CHIEF SECRETARY so manages to conduct business
of his department that he himself is temporarily forgotten, he's doing
it surpassingly well. My big brother ROBERT was once Chief Secretary,
though perhaps you forget that also. He resigned because, as he said,
there was not enough work to keep an active man going. That was long
time ago. I daresay you had no chance of forgetting during the last
five years that Prince ARTHUR was Chief Secretary?"
[Illustration: T.P. Gill.]
Cannot claim to have invented the compliment the SPEAKER discerned;
merely mentioning matter of fact; but, as he says, when in these days
a Chief Secretary manages to get himself forgotten, the wheels at the
Irish Office must be going pretty smoothly. JACKSON has not brought
about this miraculous change by laying himself out to flatter or court
Irish Members. He is exactly the same as he was when he filled office
of Financial Secretary; doubtless the same as when he looked after his
tanyard in Yorkshire. Goes straight to the point in simple unaffected
business manner that ruffles no sensibilities. Fancy he could tan a
hide in such a way that it would not feel any resentment.
A predecessor at the Irish Office who succeeded, in more troublesome
times, in living on peaceable terms with Irish Members, was
CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN. Irish Members, swift judges of character, taking
measure of both, came to conclusion nothing to be gained by rowing
round them. What killed FORSTER, and turned GEORGE TREVELYAN's hair
grey, made CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN smile--not an offensive smile, but one
of interested amusement. JACKSON's sense of humour not so keen, but
his imperturbability even more impregnable. If Irish Member trailed
his coat before him, JACKSON would say, "My dear fellow, won't you get
cold? Let me help you on with your coat."
SQUIRE OF MALWOOD, a judge on this particular point, says the MARKISS
missed the greatest chance he has had for six months in not putting
JACKSON in place of OLD MORALITY.
"Precious good thing for us, TOBY," says the SQUIRE, "that he didn't.
JACKSON the very model of a Leader of House, and Prince ARTHUR--well
he's Prince ARTHUR."
"But I suppose you don't mean," I venture to ask, "that JACKSON is the
exclusive type of a successful Leader?"
"No," says the SQUIRE, with a far-away look.
_Business done._--Two Votes in Supply.
_Tuesday._--Spent doleful afternoon in Committee of Supply.
Circumstances call upon Members below Gangway, Radicals or Irishmen,
to come to front, and make at least show of doing something. SAGE OF
QUEEN ANNE'S GATE pricks up his ears when Chairman puts question to
allow L6 7s. 11d. on account of Sheerness Police Court. Why should
Northampton contribute its quota, however small, to expenses of
Sheerness Police Court? Debate and Division; after which, the SAGE
retired to smoke cigarette through rest of afternoon, and discuss
probable date of Dissolution.
[Illustration: The Storm in the Reform Club Tea-Cup.]
Then Irish Members come on. Cream seems spooned off the mass in
preparation for festivities on St. Patrick's Day, and only the
skimmest of skim milk left. WEBB wobbles to the front; talks out vote
for Chicago Royal Committee, although ATTORNEY-GENERAL tells him it
will be all right as to Irish interests; being now close upon ten
minutes to seven, when Committee must adjourn, WEBSTER hasn't time
to make detailed explanations, but promises to do so on Report. WEBB
maunders on all the same, and Vote postponed.
Great day for FLYNN. TIM HEALY thinks he's pretty smart as a debater;
SEXTON believes he knows a thing or two; O'BRIEN is understood to be
something of an orator. FLYNN will show House how all these qualities
may be combined in one man. Does it by the tiresome twenty minutes,
the lamentable half-hour; popping up on every question with comically
judicial air; talking on with fatal feeble flatulent fluency, whilst
GILL sits nursing his hat awaiting his turn.
Alack for Irish humour, eloquence and deviltry, that it should come to
this!
Whilst FLYNN once again turns on the tap of his tepid dish-water, news
comes that Lord HAMPDEN died this morning in far-off Pau. HAMPDEN was
the BRAND who sat in Chair during Parliament of 1874, and wrestled
nightly with the "bhoys" when they were in their prime--MAJOR
O'GORMAN rollicking through the night; JOSEPH GILLIS with lean hand
outstretched and his "It seems to me, MR. SPEAKER"; PARNELL in the
white heat of passion; DELAHUNTY with his One Pound Notes, and poor
MCCARTHY DOWNING with his scared look and his indescribable but
unmistakable air of one accustomed to frequent the best society in
Skibbereen.
After a fourth speech from FLYNN, with another to follow from WEBB,
one almost envies the EX-SPEAKER lying at rest at the foot of the
Pyrenees.
_Business done._--A few Votes in Supply.
_Thursday._--St. Patrick's Day in the evening. Irish Members rose to
occasion; indeed, at one time O'KELLY and JOHN O'CONNOR rose together;
remained on their legs in defiance of Standing Orders and angry
protest of Chairman. Seemed as if someone must be suspended _pour
encourager les autres_. Storm suddenly stilled; rising passion subdued
by appearance of ALPHEUS CLEOPHAS on the scene, wanting to know about
the Refreshment-bar in the Lobby. which, he said, was lowering to the
dignity and respectability of House.
_Friday_ 12.15 A.M.--All this in Committee of Supply, which came to
end at midnight. Then Report of Supply brought on; uproar renewed;
Vote for Irish Teachers' Pension Fund under discussion. Irish Members
mysteriously disappeared; SEXTON, understood to have ready prodigious
speech on the subject, nowhere to be found. "JOHN O'CONNOR," NOLAN
hoarsely whispered, "you have the longest legs in the Party; go and
look up the bhoys, and I'll talk."
Silently but swiftly LONG JOHN stole forth on his mission; NOLAN
nobly performed his part. At end of forty minutes' breathless talk,
the Colonel, feeling his mouth growing parched, moved adjournment of
House. SPEAKER didn't recognise relevancy of argument; declined to put
the question.
"The Hon. Member," he said, "has spoken for forty minutes, and not
given a single reason in favour of his proposal."
"I was coming to that point," said NOLAN, "and, if it is quite in
order, I will now approach it."
Ruled out of order. LONG JOHN, back from his foray, in course of which
had hunted up SEXTON, threw himself into breach; moved the adjournment
for irresistible reason.
"I object," he said, "to this important subject being dealt with at
nearly one o'clock in the morning on St. Patrick's night."
T.W. RUSSELL, condoled with his compatriots below Gangway on
difficulties of situation. "Certainly hard," he said, "that on St.
Patrick's night they should be called upon to discuss questions
involving facts and figures." BALFOUR opposed adjournment; CONYBEARE
strode in; commenced what promised to be long speech; Prince ARTHUR
moved Closure; carried by nearly a hundred majority.
1.35 A.M.--House just back after division on question of adjournment;
Ministerialists in full muster and full of fight; 41 for adjournment,
121 against. As if nothing been said during previous hour-and-half,
ILLINGWORTH urges Prince ARTHUR to concede adjournment; PRINCE ARTHUR
rises to reply. Irish Members, pulling themselves together, walk
steadily out, amid ribald laughter from Ministerialists. Once more the
CURSE OF CAMBOURNE turns up. This seems, quite naturally, to suggest
the Closure; sort of automatic procedure; CONYBEARE--Closure. One more
division just to wind up, and at ten minutes past two Vote carried and
House up.
_Business done._--Revival of old times.
_Saturday_, 1.20 A.M.--House just up, after prolonged wrangle,
lasting, with interval for dinner, straight through from two o'clock
yesterday afternoon. Met then for Morning Sitting designed to make
progress with financial business. For four hours disputed how business
was to be arranged. This left one hour for doing it. Sitting suspended
at seven, resumed at nine.
At it again talking about Royalties on Gold in Wales. Domestic
Policy in Zululand, the Irish Question in the Falkland Islands, and
Parliamentary Reporting. All this led gently up to passing Vote on
Account; a conclusion finally arrived at with the assistance of the
Closure.
_Business done._--Vote on Account taken.
* * * * *
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.