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Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 104, May 6, 1893
Author: Various
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 104, May 6, 1893" ***

This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.

VOLUME 104, MAY 6, 1893***


VOLUME 104, MAY 6TH 1893

edited by Sir Francis Burnand


    (_Respectfully addressed to one of the Promoters of the
    Anti-Advertisement League by a Repentant Subscriber._)



  BEING gifted with decent taste and a sensitive eye,
    I have never been much beguiled
  By advertisements, crude in colour, and ten feet high
    (Which, in fact, I rather reviled);
  And, as for gigantic signs swinging up in the sky--
    They drove me perfectly wild!


  Then the lurid posters on paling and chimney-stack
    Were the terror of every town--
  Till a League was started by Mr. WILLIAM BLACK
    For the purpose of putting them down;
  And the sympathetic invited its efforts to back
    With an annual half-a-crown.


  So I cheerfully paid the fee, and my name was enrolled,
    And a solemn oath I swore;
  (As is usual on such occasions,--or so I'm told)
    That, in future, no shop or store
  Which aggressively advertised any article sold
    I would patronise any more!


  But that mad rash oath I recall with a vain regret,
    As I brood in bitter complaint,
  On the number of useful things that I'm dying to get--
    And my conscience tells me I mayn't!
  As their various virtues are vaunted in letters of jet,
    Or gaudier gilding and paint!


  I should like to be clean if I could--but I cannot cope,
    Without saponaceous aid,
  With a shower of London smuts--and I'm losing hope,
    Getting daily a dingier shade,
  In a futile search for a genuine Toilet-soap
    That has shunned meretricious parade!


  My villa would be--when it's furnished--the cosiest nest,
    But I fear it is doomed to be bare;
  For upholsterers' puffs are now a persistent pest,
    And so shamelessly each will declare
  His "Elegant Dining and Drawing-room suites" are the "cheapest and best"--
    That I daren't choose so much as a _chair_!


  I would fly to the Ocean shore, or the Continent,
    To escape from a lot accurst;
  But here, by my own parole, I'm a prisoner pent!
    I must find a Company first
  That doesn't resort to obtrusive advertisement--
    And the Railway ones are the _worst_!


  And now I'm developing symptoms of bodily ills,
    But, however sanguine I've felt,
  Of a cure from So-and-So's Syrup, Elixir, or Pills,
    Or his Neuro-magnetic Belt--
  Can I buy, when their fame is based on a stratum of bills
    Down every area dealt?


  And even my path to a tranquil tomb is barred
    While that oath continues to bind;
  For a coffin and funeral car will be somewhat hard
    For a faithful adherent to find--
  When already each undertaker has left a card
    With his terms and "inquiries kind"!


  So you see, Mr. WILLIAM BLACK, what a mess I've made!
    And you'll own my dilemmas are due
  To the oath which I took when I followed your precious crusade.
    If its terms were drafted by _you_,
  You may know some ingenious means their effect to evade--
    Kindly drop me a line if you do!

       *       *       *       *       *


    (_The Australian Cricketers have arrived in England._)

  And his boys! 'Tis safe to back 'em,
  To teach BULL--a cheerful learner!
  Austral Cricket "up to date."
  BRUCE and TRUMBLE--rather late--
  Owing to Lutetia's charms!
  Soon will join their chums in arms.
  LYONS and M'LEOD are ready;
  Dashing GEORGE and ALEC steady,
  And the others, prompt to pitch 'em
  (Stumps) on the old sward at Mitcham.
  _Punch_ will wish you all fair weather,
  And fair luck! Now, all together!!!
  May we meet 'em oft--and whack 'em
  Fairly--these brave boys of BLACKHAM!

       *       *       *       *       *

    HABEAS CORPUS SUSPENDED.--What is wanted just now is a _"J bez
    Corpus" Act_.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "SCOT-FREE."

    _Sir Henry Hawkins_ (_to Justice_). "_I_ CAN'T TOUCH THEM.
    IT'S TIME _YOU_ DID!" (_See next page._)]

       *       *       *       *       *

AN AIRY NOTHING.--According to a Radical paper "the poor man's tobacco
pays 10½_d._ in the shilling to taxation, while the rich man's cigar
pays only ½_d._ in the shilling to taxation." This may be very true,
but is the question worth discussing? It is sure to end in smoke!

       *       *       *       *       *

HOW THEY ARE SERVED IN SERVIA.--Among some interesting items, a
telegram informed us how "the Young King presided at a Council of
Ministers. The ceremonial is the same as during his father's time,
only two guards stand at the door, and _refreshments are handed round
at short intervals_." The italics are ours. Rather! What a pleasant
Cabinet Council. Why isn't the convivial plan adopted here? Mr. G., in
the chair, would knock the table with the hammer every ten minutes and
call out, "Give your orders, Gents! the Waiter's in the room!" A real
Harmonious Meeting.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "WITHOUT PREJUDICE."

    _Miss Jeannie_ (_to Elderly Spinster_). "I'M GLAD MAUD IS

    _Elderly Spinster aforesaid_ (_who has had her eye on Sir Guy
    for the last two years_). "I DON'T AT ALL AGREE WITH YOU. SIR

       *       *       *       *       *


(_A Cockney Carol by a cruelly-used Coster-Investor. With apologies to
clever Albert Chevalier._)

    ["I desire to express, and I cannot do it too strongly,
    that there is no credit to be attached to the conduct of
    the directors in this particular case. It would be more
    satisfactory to me if directors had a proper sense of their
    responsibility. It is a cruel thing that people should be
    deluded out of their savings by high-sounding names. At
    the same time, there is no criminal law which will punish a
    director who scandalously neglects his duty, though he takes
    his money. I think the law might well be altered."--_Mr.
    Justice Hawkins._]

  AIR.--_"The Future Mrs. 'Awkins."_

  I'm _done_, my little doner! I'm jest about a goner!
        My savings all U. P.!
  You always said I shouldn't; but resist big names I couldn't,
        No, they fairly nobbled me.
  Now Mister Justice 'AWKINS, 'onest 'ENERY HAWKINS,
        Some Directors' wool does comb.
  So 'elp me bob, I'm crazy. I _must_ ha' bin a daisy!
        Won't it bust our 'umble 'ome!
  (_Spoken or sung._) _Won't_ it!
        O LIZER! Sweet LIZER!
  If I die in the Big 'Ouse, I'll only 'ave myself to blame.
        D'y'ear, LIZER? _Dear_ LIZER!
  Fancy _me_ bein' nicked by a 'igh-soundin' name!

  At their sly board-meetin's wot must be their greetin's!
        Oh, they knows wot _they're_ about!
  The public tin they close up, at us turns their nose up--
        Fox and Guinea-pigs--no doubt.
  I likes their style, dear LIZER. Ain't it a surpriser?
        Cop _me_ on the 'op like this!!!
  Sure, I must be dreamin'! In my sleep start screamin'.
        There, _don't_ cry, old gal! Let's kiss!
  (_Spoken or sung._) _Come_ now!
        O LIZER! Dear LIZER!
  If I lose yer luv by this I'll only 'ave myself to blame!
        D'y'ear, LIZER? _Dear_ LIZER!
  'Onest 'ENERY 'AWKINS sez it's a dashed shame!

  Hartful as a "bonnet," you depend upon it,
        Mister Fox, with tail sly-curled!
  Jest about the sweetest, neatest, and completest
        Diddle in the wide, wide world.
  Wot sez 'ENERY 'AWKINS, 'onest 'ENERY 'AWKINS?
        Law wants alterin' right away.
  P'raps it may be _one_ day, but were it next Monday,
        Me and you 'twould not repay!
  (_Spoken or sighed._) _Would_ it?
        O LIZER! Sweet LIZER!
  Strikes me wot is called the Law is often fuss, and fraud, and fudge!
        But _dear_ LIZER! D'y'ear, LIZER?
  Mister Justice 'AWKINS is a fust-class Judge!

       *       *       *       *       *

noticeable at certain times arise from the fact of the tide
being high? If so, is the tide sometimes higher than usual, as
the--ahem!--odours certainly are?

       *       *       *       *       *

SHAKSPEARIAN QUESTION TO A COMPANY.--(_To be replied to in the
negative._)--"What, are you HANSARD yet?" (_Mer. of Venice_, iv., 1.)

       *       *       *       *       *

    "Be it ever so humbling, there's no place like Rome!"

       *       *       *       *       *



[Illustration: "At the Sign of the 'Budget Shop.'"]

_House of Commons, Monday, April 24._--House nearly Counted Out just
now, although it's Budget Night and usual Resolutions not yet passed.
Catastrophe averted, and sitting continued. CHILDERS come back to old
scene. Looking on from below Gallery, says it's the quietest Budget
Night he remembers. Usually scene one of seething excitement. One or
more Trades expect taxes affecting them will either go up or go
down. Lobby besieged by anxious representatives. Nothing of the sort
to-night. When SQUIRE of MALWOOD rose to expound his mystery, Benches
not fuller than on ordinary night. Of those present there was no
speculation in the eyes they turned upon the CHANCELLOR standing at
table. The SQUIRE, a great Parliamentary artist, attuned voice and
manner to prevailing tone; avoided anything approaching oratorical
style; plain business statement to make; accomplished it in fine
head-clerkly manner.

An unfailing tradition about Budget Speech is that it shall contain
at least one quotation from the Classics. Mr. G. from year to year
observed this custom with splendid effect. LOWE'S _Ex luce lucellum_
is famous in history; nearly became the epitaph of a Ministry;
certainly was the funeral wail over a carefully-constructed Budget.
The SQUIRE to-night felt bound to observe tradition; but in accordance
with his nature did it modestly, adventuring nothing more recondite
than citation of the familiar line that serves to mark WREN'S
resting-place in Westminster Abbey. TOMMY BOWLES took opportunity
of remarking that he was "disappointed with the Budget." This
mental attitude, though not quite unexpected, threw fresh gloom over
proceedings, and talk, reduced to whisper, finally died out.

_Business done._--Budget brought in.

_Tuesday._--The young men behind PRINCE ARTHUR out on the war-path.
"Tell you what," says LEGH of Lyme; "let's have BRYCE's scalp."

"By the Holy Roman Empire, yes!" cried GEORGE CURZON, to whom genial
observation was addressed. "Let's get at him about his snubbing
SEFTON, in matter of appointment of Lancashire County Magistrates.
'Twill serve a double debt to pay. We'll have a lark--'_Quelles
alouettes!_' as it is written in the French translation of _Great
Expectations_, in the passage reporting conversation between _Pip_
and _Joe Gargery_. Moreover than which, we'll put a spoke in business
arrangements of Mr. G., and stave off Home Rule by so long."

"Be careful," said PRINCE ARTHUR; "ticklish subject, you know. They're
sure to have HALSBURY up, and there unquestionably was a degree of
monotony about his appointments to Commission of Peace."

"Oh bother HALSBURY," said CURZON, to whom nothing is sacred. "He's
used to it by this time. You know what happened to the viper who bit
the Cappadocian's hide? HALSBURY's all right."

"Boys will be boys," said PRINCE ARTHUR, looking at them regretfully,
and thinking of his own forty-five years. "But perhaps it will be just
as well if I clear out;" which he did, and so missed a lively debate.

That Elderly Young Man, HANBURY, not in best form for such operations.
Lacks lightness of touch. HENRY JAMES also better out of it. Gave
performance serious turn, when he declared that in borough of Bury
BRYCE, as soon as he came into office, appointed eight Magistrates,
all Liberals. That sounded very bad; Mr. G. looked serious; some
disposition shown on Treasury Bench to draw apart from BRYCE. All very
well to talk about HALSBURY'S goings on; but if this sort of thing
done by Liberal purists, things seem rotten all round. When BRYCE came
to reply, he quietly added to JAMES'S statement of case that, when
he went to the Duchy, he found of eighteen Magistrates sixteen were
Unionists, only two Liberals. He had, it is true, appointed six
Liberals and two working-men, whose politics he did not know.
Bury Bench, accordingly, now consisted of sixteen Unionists, eight
Liberals, and two working-men. Members wondered if JAMES knew that
when he made his statement? Hoped he didn't. All very well with wig
and gown on, and brief in hand; but House doesn't like this kind of
thing in debate.

CURZON'S statement about sad condition of Magisterial Bench at
Southport, owing to machinations of an iniquitous Chancellor of the
Duchy, turned out to be not more completely based on fact than was
JAMES'S. But difference of manner in dealing with case, everything.
No one took CURZON seriously, and so no harm done. His explanation
of preponderance of Conservative Magistrates on Lancashire Bench
delightful. As good as some touches of DIZZY, of whose younger,
lighter manner, he much reminded old-stagers. It was true, he admitted
that, on Lancashire Bench, preponderance of Magistrates was with
Conservatives. (Chancellor of Duchy gave figures as he found them
arranged when he came into office. On the Borough Benches, 507
Unionists, against 159 Liberals; on the County Bench, 522 Unionists,
against 142 Liberals, a proportion of nearly four to one.) But how
had it been brought about? asked the Strayed Reveller from the Corea.
"Why, it is because the disturbing, mischievous policy of the Right
Hon. Gentleman opposite" (this with indignant sweep of the arm towards
Mr. G., feigning sleep on the Treasury Bench) "has driven into the
opposite ranks most of the intelligent, respectable men, from whom
Justices are chosen."

On Division, Vote of Censure on BRYCE negatived by 260 votes; against
186. "I'm not sure," said JOKIM, whose views of humour are limited,
"that, what I may call the gain of three hours lost, is worth the
price paid; to wit, the opportunity given to BRYCE of disclosing the
actual state of things in Lancashire in the matter of Magisterial
Bench, and the consequent doubling of the Ministerial Majority."

"Well, as I remarked before," said Prince ARTHUR, who had come back
for the Division, "Boys will be boys."

_Business done._--Employers' Liability Bill, with aid of Closure, read
Second Time.

_Thursday._--Pretty to watch Mr. G. struggling with feeling of
expediency against temptation to make a speech. House in Committee on
Budget Bill; JOKIM been discoursing at large on its proposals. Quite
lively. SQUIRE of MALWOOD looked on, listening with generous approval,
albeit he was target for JOKIM'S jocularity. This time last year
positions reversed. It was he criticising JOKIM'S Budget. Now it was
JOKIM'S turn, and the SQUIRE magnanimously stood the racket. Mr. G.
sat by his side, an attentive listener, evidently strongly drawn
to join in the fray. But it was plainly the SQUIRE'S show, and its
direction must be left to him. When there followed long succession
of eminent men discussing Budget, Mr. G. felt that if he remained any
longer he must yield to temptation. Accordingly, withdrew from scene.
Returned again an hour later; still harping on the Budget; the SQUIRE
had spoken twice, and there seemed nothing to be done but to work off
whatever remaining speeches had been prepared in Opposition camp.

DORINGTON dragged in case of farmer, and small landowner; conversation
turned on Depression of Agriculture; the WOOLWICH INFANT presented
himself to view of sympathetic House as specimen of what a man of
ordinarily healthy habits might be brought to by necessity of paying
Income-tax on the gross rental of house property. A procession of
friends of the Agriculturist was closed by portly figure of CHAPLIN,
another effective object-lesson suitable for illustration of lectures
on Agricultural Depression. Mr. G., feeling there was no necessity
for speech, had resolutely withstood the others. CHAPLIN at the table,
proved irresistible. To him, CHAPLIN is embodiment of the heresy of
Protection, Bi-metallism, and other emanations of the Evil One.
When CHAPLIN sat down, PREMIER romped in, and, having delivered the
inevitable speech, went off home, soothed, and satisfied.

_Business done._--Budget Scheme passed through Committee.

_Friday._--Almost forgot we still have House of Lords. Shall be
reminded of their existence by-and-by. For the nonce, they are
courteously quiescent, the world forgetting, by the world forgot. Just
a little flare-up to-night. Ireland, of course; CAMPERDOWN wanting
to know what about the Evicted Tenants Commission? Are the
Government going to legislate upon it, or will they forbear? SELBORNE
supernaturally solemn; dragged in JAMES THE SECOND as the nearest
approach to any head of a Government quite so wicked as Mr. G. Lords
much interested in this. Don't hear so much now of JAMES THE SECOND
as we did when at school. The establishment of points of resemblance
between Governments of his day and that presided over by Mr. G., a
novelty in debate. Imparted to political controversy a freshness long

Just after seven, debate adjourned. For all practical purposes,
it might as well have been concluded. But House doesn't get many
opportunities of debate; not disposed riotously to squander this
chance one.

_Business done._--Commons had Morning Sitting; scrupulously devoted
the last five minutes of it to public business.

       *       *       *       *       *

OPERATIC NOTE,--There's not much magic about _The Magic Ring_ at the
Prince of Wales's until the Second Act, in which the extravagantly
comic "business" of Messrs. MONKHOUSE and KAYE, the burlesque acting
of Miss SUSIE VAUGHAN, and the comic trio dance between the two low
comedians and the sprightly soprano, Miss MARIE HALTON, are worth
the whole of Act I. When is burlesque not burlesque? When it is Comic
Opera. Burlesque was reported dead. Not a bit of it, only smothered;
and it may come up fresh for a long run, or at all events, "fit" for a
good spurt.

       *       *       *       *       *

Even the old-fashionedest Toriest of Tory Farmers are longing, hoping,
and even praying, for the downfall of the Rain. If we don't have
it soon, and it may have arrived ere this appears, Marrowfats, as
_articles de luxe_, will be "Peas at any price!"

       *       *       *       *       *


    _Irish Doctor_ (_who was a great believer in a little "playful
              (_Further attendance dispensed with._)]

       *       *       *       *       *


  It was the Palace of the Board,
    The Board of London's Schooling,
  Where Members lately have enjoyed
    Some high artistic fooling.

  "Oh, why"--hear Mr. COXHEAD plead,
    In tones of sheer amazement--
  "Do hideous faces wrought in glass
    Stare down from every casement?"

  Then up spake General MOBERLY,
    The Board's supreme apologist,
  And told them all the time of day
    Like any good horologist.

  "The Architect," quoth he, "had planned
    To grave upon the panes
  Portraits of bygone Classic wights,
    Of British youth the banes.

  "But as the Chairman of the Works'
    Committee he had said,
  That CICERO should be deposed,
    And DIGGLE reign instead.

  "To oust HERODOTUS would be
    An inexpensive job,
  And SOCRATES should be bowled out
    By a seductive LOBB."

  Further, he argued that it would
    Only be right and manly
  If ARCHIMEDES did resign
    His pane to LYULPH STANLEY.

  And out he brought his final word
    Both modestly and soberly--
  "I think that JULIUS CÆSAR might
    Give place to General MOBERLY!"

  O Boardmen, shall the little plan
    Be thus allowed to pass?
  It will, unless your Veto stop
    _This_ filling of the glass!

       *       *       *       *       *


  (_An Appeal. After E. A. Poe._)

  "Fair Isle, that from the fairest of all flowers
    Thy gentlest of all gentle names doth take!"
  How many memories of fierce seismic powers
    At sight of thee, as now thou art, awake!
  How many scenes of what departed bliss!
    How many thoughts of what entombed hopes!
  Did FALB foresee such ruinous wreck as this?
    No more sits Peace upon thy verdant slopes!
  _Subscriptions!_ Ah, that magical sweet sound
    Appeals to all, or _should_ appeal. More! More!
  Suffering demands still _more_! Charity's ground
    _Punch_ now must hold thy flower-enamelled shore,
  O Hyacinthine Isle! O purple Zante!
    "_Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!_"

       *       *       *       *       *

    NEW NAME FOR IT. (_By a non-believer in the
    much-talked-of--and talking--"League._"),--Imperial

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A LAMENT.


       *       *       *       *       *


    [The most gorgeous red yet discovered has lately been produced
    from the rare metal rüthenium.]

  Who'll sell me a second-hand lyre and a plectrum,
    Or (since it's the fashion) a mandoline?
  _Con amore_ I'd sing the new shade of the spectrum--
    No spook, though it haunts me--its name is Ruthene.

  Nay, don't be alarmed, for I'm no supersubtle
    Decadent bard with an eye full of green;
  I merely (to copy the late _Captain Cuttle_)
    Am "making a note" in the key of Ruthene.

  Well, _R_'s a red letter, you see its ray glow forth--
    Look in your "dic" if you doubt what I mean;
  Red, rufous, rouge, ruddy, rose, russet, and so forth,
    Have all rolling _r_'s like resplendent Ruthene.

  More "clamant" than carmine, vermilion, crimson,
    Costlier than diamond or ultramarine--
  A deuce of a theme to chant lyrics or hymns on,
    Or rummage for orotund "rot," is Ruthene.

  Orange-hued are the Odalisque's henna-dyed fingers,
    English girls' lips are encarnadine;
  A rubicund flame round the toper's nose lingers--
    But I'm blest if they rival the blush of Ruthene.

  Pink huntsman, gules ensign, deep flush of the sunset,
    Cardinal's scarlet, "red" gold have I seen,
  With red ruin, red rhubarb, red herring--but none set
    My iris afire as does red-hot Ruthene.

  The quest, though, is simpler of Roc's egg or Sangreal,
    Easier to fashion a flying machine,
  Than for _my_ Muse to fake up (forgive Cockney slang) real
    Readable rhymes in praise of Ruthene.

       *       *       *       *       *


(_Mr. Hozier's Version._)

    [Mr. HOZIER (on the Second Reading of the "Registration of
    Votes (Scotland) Amendment Bill") said, "the fame of Mr.
    GERRY, the Governor of Massachusetts, would sink into
    insignificance if this Bill were to pass. In future they
    would not talk of Gerrymandering, but of Trevelyandering....
    Trevelyandering, however, was a game at which two could play;
    in fact, in the words of the poet, they might fairly say:--

        "What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander,
        And possibly two can Trevelyander!"]

  AIR--"_The British Grenadiers._"

  Some talk of Gerrymander, and some of HERCHELLES,
  Of HALSBURY and Mr. BRYCE, and such great names as these.
  But of all the world's great jobbers (swears HOZIER) none compare
  With the job, job, job, job, job, job, of the "Tre-vel-yan-der-er!"

  GERRY, of Massachusetts, was smartish, for his time,
  But HOZIER "goes one better," it moves his soul to rhyme.
  Our Scottish Wegg (_sans_ timber leg) drops into verse--though queer.
  About the game--which two can play--of the "Tre-vel-yan-de-rer!"

  There's Jove, the god of thunder, and Mars, the god of war,
  Brave Neptune, with his trident, but here's a greater, far!
  HOZIER-Apollo now is seen descending from his sphere
  To string betimes impromptu rhymes on the "Tre-vel-yan-de-rer!"

  Then let us fill a bumper, and drink a health to those
  Who, "dropping into poetry," leave lesser wits to prose,
  And especially to HOZIER, who raised a ringing cheer,
  By his doggerel delightful on the "Tre-vel-yan-de-rer!"

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. G. "SHADOWED."--Of course even Mr. G. cannot be "The Shadowless
Man," except under the terms of that weird story, "which is
impossible." The Police have arrived at one important point about the
recently arrested TOWNSEND. They now say, "We know that man, he comes
from Sheffield."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE "POINT TO POINT RACE."



       *       *       *       *       *

    [Illustration: Massa Beerbones Lord Shillingworth.
    Massa Johnson O'Wilde. Dr. Proudie Kemble of Barchester.
    Lady Nickleby Leclercq.



"Let who will give me a plot, _I_ will write their dialogue."
(_Extract from Uncommon-place Book of_ Mr. O. WILDE.) Now when the
author of _A Woman of No Importance_ and of _Lady Windermere's Fan_
has to find his own materials for a plot (_"'Play-wrights' materials
for plots made up.' Idea for Literary and Dramatic Advertisement"
Note-book, O. W._)--well, he does find them, and makes them his own.
(_"Adoption not adaptation. A clear distinction.--N.B. I confer the
'distinction'" O. W._) Certainly "Our OSCAR" possesses the happy knack
of turning out some well-polished epigrams up to Drawing-room date.
And so it happens that, during the first two Acts, when Mr. WILDE'S
_dramatis personæ_ are all gathered together, with nothing to do
and plenty to say, their conversation is light and airy, with an
occasional sparkler coming out (_"A summer night, with, at intervals,
a brilliant meteor flashing through the sky." Uncom. P. B., O. W._),
that crackles, goes pop like the weasel of the old song, and "then is
heard no more," as was the case with _Macbeth's_ poor player, and,
as he was a poor player, his fate was not undeserved.--(_Mem. "A Lady
Nickleby or Duchesse de Malapropos, to misquote.--For example, she
might say, as quoting Shakspeare, 'Life's but a walking candle.'"
O. W._)

We all remember how poor _Mr. Dick_ couldn't keep King Charles's Head
out of his manuscript. The Author of _No Importance_ is similarly
affected. Left to himself for a plot, he cannot keep melodrama out of
his play, and what ought to have been a comedy pure and simple (or
the reverse) drops suddenly into old-fashioned theatrical melodrama.
During the first two Acts _Lady Hunstanton_, _Lady Caroline
Pontefract_, _Mrs. Allonby_, _Lord Illingworth_, _The Venerable James
Daubeny, D.D._, talk on pleasantly enough until interrupted by the
sudden apparition of the aforesaid King Charles the First's Head,
represented by the wearisome tirades, tawdry, cheap, and conventional,
belonging to the Lytton-Bulwerian-Money period of the Drama, of which
a considerable proportion falls to the share of the blameless Miss
JULIA NEILSON, who, as _la belle Américaine_, HESTER WORSLEY, in her
attitude towards her audience, resembles the blessed _Glendoveer_,
inasmuch as it is "_hers_ to talk, and _ours_ to hear." Deeply, too,
does everyone sympathise with lively Mrs. BERNARD BEERE, who, as _Mrs.
Arbuthnot_, a sort of up-to-date _Mrs. Haller_, is condemned to do
penance in a kind of magpie costume of black velvet, relieved by a
dash of white, rather calling to mind the lady whom CHARLES DICKENS
described as "_Hamlet's_ Aunt," her funereal attire being relieved by
a whitened face with tear-reddened eyes. It is these two characters,
with _Gerald Arbuthnot_, Mr. FRED TERRY, who, like the three gruesome
personages in _Don Giovanni_, will intrude themselves into what might
have been a pleasant, interesting comedy of modern manners, if only it
had had a good comedy plot.

Taken as a whole, the acting is admirable. Mr. TREE, as the titled
cad, _Lord Illingworth_, is perfect in make-up and manner. Certainly
one of the many best things he has done. It is a companion portrait to
the other wicked nobleman in _The Dancing Girl_. (_"There is another
and a worse wicked nobleman" N. B., O. W._) But this is no fault, and,
indeed, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to find fault with
Mr. TREE'S _Lord Illingworth_. Mrs. TREE as _Mrs. Allonby_, is a
very charming battledore in the game of repartee-shuttlecock, who with
eight other principal characters in the piece, has nothing whatever to
do with the plot. To the character of _Lady Hunstanton_, as written
in the Mrs. Nickleby vein, and as played by Miss ROSE LECLERCQ, the
success is mainly due; and "for this relief much thanks." It is here
and in the comedy characters of the _Archdeacon_ (Mr. KEMBLE excellent
in this) and of _Lady Caroline Pontefract_ (who couldn't have a better
representation than Miss LE THIÈRE) that Mr. O. WILDE shows what he
can do as a writer of comedy, both in the quality of the material and
its introduction at the right moment. (_"The right speech at the wrong
moment, or the wrong speech at the right moment, both are fatal.
Thus is it that comedies become tragedies, and tragedies comedies."
U.P.N.B., O. W._) At the Haymarket the "play's" not "the thing," it is
the playing. (_"Likewise the writing," O. W._)

However, it is not for the plot, or for the Bulwery-Lyttony orations,
or for the familiar melodramatic situations that audiences will
seek the Haymarket. No, it will be to hear the Christy-Minstrel
epigrammatic dialogue in the first two Acts, to laugh heartily at Miss
LECLERCQ as _Lady Nickleby Hunstanton_, to smile on the _Archdeacon_
and _Lady Caroline_, and to enjoy the first-rate acting all round.

       *       *       *       *       *


"Essentials for success of modern play are 'Latitude and Platitude.'
First being risky is saved by second."

_Receipt for Play-making._--First catch your epigrams: preserve
them for use: serve with _sauce piquante un pen risquée_ distributed
impartially among a variety of non-essential _dramatis personæ_,
invented for the purpose. Provide fine old crusted copybook moral
sentiments, to suit _bourgeois_ palate: throw in the safe situation
of some one concealed, behind door or window, listening to private
conversation. Add one well-tried effective dramatic situation to
bring down curtain on penultimate Act, and there's a stage-dish to
set before the appreciative B. P., if only it can be presented to them
effectively garnished by a clever and popular Manager at a first-class

       *       *       *       *       *


The Botanical Afternoon Fête of last Wednesday was a brilliant
gathering in brilliant weather. Privileged is "the Inner Circle" to
have in its midst these lovely gardens. "The Flowers that bloom in
the Spring, tra la!" were all out uncommonly early--long before the
earliest worm, which hasn't a chance against these very early risers.
"All a-growing!" on the part of the flowers, and "all a-blowing"
on the part of the Band of the Second Life Guards. Among the
distinguished company present we noticed the Crimson Queen, looking
immensely well, the blushing Duchess of ALBANY, the Duchesse de
VALLOMBROSA, Admiral COURBET, in a striking costume of "deep yellow
splashed with red" (where _had_ he been?), the Ladies DAPHNE PINK and
CALLAS WHITE, and Maréchal NIEL. For "_Uriah Heep_," who "loves to be
'umble," a Silver Medal was awarded to Mr. PIKE. "The prize, that's my
point," observed the sharp PIKE. Funny Fish PIKE.

       *       *       *       *       *

A PENNY WISE.--The new import of the latest Budget may be aptly called
"A Penny for your Thoughts," as no one pays a tax upon his income
as it really exists, but as (for Income-tax assessment purposes) he
believes it to be.


[Illustration: No. 37. The Knight of the Graceful Curve. See
remarkable figure in George E. Robertson's picture.]

[Illustration: No. 17. The Hare Apparent trying to study a part under
considerable difficulties, as shown in Nos. 18 and 19.

(_Vide Notes, p. 215._)]

[Illustration: No. 220. Queen of Golf Clubs. "'I'm going a golfing,
Sir, she said.' You see I've Gotch 'em in my hand." T. C. Gotch.]

[Illustration: No. 159. Mr. Henry Irving in his Dressing-room studying
a New Part. Sir F. Leighton, Bart., P.R.A.]

[Illustration: No. 470. Worse Halves coming Home. A Half-vest Scene. It
is called "The Army of Peace," but it seems to be "An Army in Pieces."
F. W. Loring.]

[Illustration: Nos. 586 (by Louis Falero), 590 (by St. George Hare),
591 (_encore_ Falero). Awkward Position of an Unprofessional Sitter
at a Studio when the Models have arrived, but the Artist hasn't yet
turned up.]

[Illustration: No. 217. The New Toy. Little Tottie's Mechanical Bird.
Sir J. E. Millais, Bart., R.A.]

[Illustration: No. 131. The Sea Serpent! Caught at last!! General
rejoicings!!! Frank Dicksee, R.A.]

[Illustration: No. 218. His First Cigar. G. F. Watts, R.A.]

[Illustration: No. 375. Disturbed by Wopses. Arthur Hacker.]

       *       *       *       *       *

No. 18. _John Hare, Esq._, as seen and painted by Sir JOHN E. MILLAIS,
Bart., R.A., "_The Hare Apparent_"--to every spectator. But what an
unpleasant position! The eminent Actor is either studying a part, or
has the Box-office account-book in his hand, and wants a quiet moment
for serious thought or close calculation; and yet, in the next room
to him (No. 19), one of Mr. ORCHARDSON'S young ladies is singing and
playing a yellow chrome-atic scale, and in the room overhead (No. 17),
Mr. NETTLESHIP'S tiger has broken loose, and is taking a bath.
When rescued from these surroundings, this will remain at home a
Hare-loominous picture for the family.

No. 28. "_Toe-Toe chez Ta-Ta._" Miss TOETOE, in blue, at work and
looking down, says to the other girl, TATA, who is maliciously smiling
at her, "Oh dear! I _do_ hope that no one will look at my right thumb
or my toes! O Mr. WOODS, A., why was my right thumb left like this?"

No. 34. In this Mr. MORLEY FLETCHER shows us a Female Martyr in
Tomartyr-coloured dress, preparatory to being taken off to the _Auto
da fé_.

No. 45. "_An Undress Rehearsal_" STUART G. DAVIS.

No. 49. "_On the Temple Steps._" By JOHN GRIFFITHS. For years we've
known that GRIFFITHS is "the safe man" to follow. But, unless this
is a work of pure imagination, anyone well acquainted with the
Temple Pier and the Temple Steps will naturally ask, "Where are the

Nos. 51, 52, and 53. The first is a Harmony in Sea by Mr. HENRY
MOORE, A., and the second is Mr. MILLER'S--(WILLIAM not JOSEPH
MILLER)--_Colonel Hornsby-Drake_. This Drake seems out of his element,
as he ought to have been floating about with the wild fowl that belong
naturally to the picture below.

Nos. 63-66.

  "Four little whitey boys out for a run,
  Ate early greeny food. Then there were none!"

Painted by AMY SAWYER. "Not a work of imagination, my dear little
boys, because you were seen by AMY--that is, AMY _saw yer_!"

No. 70. _Study in Pâtisserie._ Design for a chocolate ornament covered
with sugar. Recommended by Messrs. CLARK AND HAMILTON.

No. 71. _Lion in Desert._ Very tame. Mr. HERBERT DICKSEE.

No. 76. _The New Skirt Dance._ . . We strongly recommend the study of
this picture to admirers of the "Skirt Dance." It shows how one of
the male sex may attempt it--that is, according to the idea of the

No. 88. _Colonel W. Barnardiston._ "First Chairman of West Suffolk
County Council." Painted by HUBERT HERKOMER, R.A. If he is "First
Chairman," it doesn't matter what he is afterwards, since he has
been immortalised by the admirable painting of HUBERT HERKOMER. He'll
remain "First Chairman" in the _Dramatis Personæ_ of this year's
Catalogue, at all events, and be H. H.'s "Perpetual First Chairman,"
too, be the other where he may.

No. 103. "_Elder Bush._" By H. W. B. DAVIS, R.A. From the title you
might expect it to be the portrait of a Presbyterian "Elder" named
"BUSH." But it isn't. Look at it. It is the sweetest, most natural,
perfectest of charming "bits" of rural Nature in the whole show.
There's no beating about this bush; in fact this Elder Bush is one
that is very hard to beat.

No. 130. _His Grace the Duke of Devonshire._ Encore! Bravo, Mr. HUBERT
HERKOMER. You're are a-going it this year, you are, Sir! You've given
the Duke all his Grace, and there's a kind of orange tint about him,
which, just now, is not without its political signification.

No. 132. We must go to Kennington (T. B. KENNINGTON) to see "_The
Queen of Love_." She is sitting on a tiger's skin, and has her hand
on the head of the savage beast, which shows its fangs. "A _fang-see_
subject," says 'ARRY JOKER.

No. 158. HONEYMOONERS. "Here we are again!" Same kind of Stone
Fruit from MARCUS STONE, R.A. "Sparkles this Stone as it was
wont!"--_Cymbeline._ ii., 4. [_To be continued in our next._

       *       *       *       *       *

SATURDAY.--H.R.H. made one of his usually happy speeches; the Duke of
CAMBRIDGE, the Earl of ROSEBERY, and Lord HERSCHELL represented the
comedy element; while Lord KELVIN and Mr. LESLIE STEPHEN were perfect
in what, theatrically speaking, is termed "the heavy lead;" and
certainly their speeches were--ahem!--weighty. Pretty to note how His
Scarlet-robed Eminence entered the room, not only with a grace all
his own, but with His Grace of CANTERBURY as well. Never was the
President, Sir FREDERICK LEIGHTON, more effective in all his speeches,
and especially when replying to the toast of "The Academy," where the
perfection of his speech lay in the subtle concealment of its art, and
in the genuine earnestness of his advice to students _urbi et orbi_.

       *       *       *       *       *

SPORTING ANSWER (_Garden_).--TOTTIE: The flower you have forwarded to
us is not a flower at all. It is an East African rhinoceros. We have
returned it as requested, by parcel post.

       *       *       *       *       *


  (_A Cockney Pastoral in Spring time._)

  _Who-o-o-f!_ It's hot amost as Summer-time; yet what a blessed breeze
  Is a-whiffing round the corners, and a-whoostling through the trees!
  And the sunlight on the roof-slates, all aslant to the blue sky,
  Seems to twinkle like the larfter in a pooty gurl's blue eye,
  When you swing in the dance, and she feels you've got 'er step:
  And the trees--ah! bless their branches!--through the winter weeks
    they've slep',
  When the worrying winds would let 'em, all as black and mum as mutes,
  A-waiting for the blackbirds, with their calls like meller flutes.
  Just to whistle them awake like. Oh! but now they stir and rouse
  Like a girl who has bin dreamin' of her lover in a drowse,
  And wakes up to feel 'is kisses on 'er softly poutin' lips.
  How they burst, all a-thirst for the April shower that drips
  Tinkle-tink from leaf to leaf, washing every spraylet clean
  From the sooty veil of London, which might dim the buddin' green
  Of the pluckiest lime-tree, sproutin' o'er brown pales in a back-yard;
  For these limes bud betimes, and they find it middlin' hard
  To make way at windy corners, when the lamp as lights 'em through,
  Like gold on green in pantomimes, is blown till it burns blue,
  By the angry nor'east gusts. But the nor'east wind to-day
  Is less like a rampin' lion than some new-born lamb at play.
  Wy, the laylock's out aready, purple spires and creamy clumps.
  Oh, that scent of shower-washed laylock! There's a somethin' in me jumps
  As I ketch it round some corner, where the heart-shaped leaflets small
  Cluster up against the stucco, as they did about that wall,
  Grey, and gritty, and glass-spiked, of our tumble-down old cot
  Out Epping way, in boy-time long ago, and quite a lot
  Of remembrances came crowding, like good ghostes, in that scent;
  There's the mother's call to dinner, there's the landlord's call--for rent!
  And the call of the rooks,--and another call, fur off,
  Like a whisper from a grave-yard, green and silent.
            Some may scoff
  At a Cockney's chat of laylocks. I could bury my old phiz
  In their crisp and nutty coolness, as I did when flirty Liz,
  My first sweetheart, sent me packing, one Spring mornin'--for a while--
  And them blossoms cooled my anger--most as much as the arch smile
  Which won me back to wooin'.
            There's a blackbird on the top
  Of yon tall, half bare acacia, pipes as if he'd never stop,
  Tryin' all his tunelets over, like a sort of talking flute:--
  "_Chip-chip! Tsee-tsee! Chu-chu! Chu-rook!_" goes the bird of sable suit.
  "_We-know-it! We-know-it! We-know-it! Bring-the-whip!--the whip!--the whip!
  "Chu-rook-chu-chu! Chu-rook-chu-chu! Tsee-tsee-chu-chu-chip-chip!_"
  So he pours his pantin' heart out in a song half tune, half patter,
  Like a meller music-haller of the tree-tops!
            Ah--what matter
  That 'tis only London's outskirts, that I'm a poor Cockney cove,
  When this Wondrous Spring is on us? As my shallow on I shove,
  And blare out my "All-a-blowing, All-a-growing!" down the streets,
  There's a something fresh and shining-like in every face I meets!
  Tis the Spring-love breaking through them! Wy, the very dirt looks clean
  In the shimmer of the sunlight, and the shadow of the green.
  _All-a-blowing! All-a-growing!_ When I shout, I seem to sing,
  For my cry takes on a music. It's the very Voice of Spring!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "MEAT FOR YOUR MASTER!"




       *       *       *       *       *


  (_Dedicated to the Right Hon. A. J. Balfour._)

  Cried Genius A. to Genius B., "Let's summon Genius C.,
  And, to make a _partie carrée_, we will call in Genius D."
  And when they were assembled these solemn four sat down,
  And they all read Mr. BALFOUR'S speech, and read it with a frown.

  Said Genius A., "No Geniuses? By Heaven, he's talking rot!"
  And Genius B. replied thereto, "I can't say he is not."
  And C. and D., the poets, who warble like the birds,
  Agreed with Genius A. and B. in scorning BALFOUR'S words.

  "A Genius _may_ arise, he says; that's coming it too strong;
  Why, dash it, I can count up three in prose and eke in song!"
  Thus A. began; the three replied, "You're not an egoist;
  You quite forgot to add yourself, and so complete the list."

  "We'll prove it on the spot," declared dramatic Genius A.
  "You three shall sit as judges, and I will read my play.
  'Tis a drama of the passions, all strictly based on facts,
  And they break the Decalogue to bits in five exhaustive Acts."

  "That _might_ be good," said B.; "but _I_'ve a little thing, I guess,
  Which ought to take precedence, a novel in MS.;
  With characters so deftly drawn in all their changing scenes,
  That THACKERAY and DICKENS must be knocked to smithereens."

  But C. broke in; his hair was long, his eyes were very wild,
  He was in truth a strangely-garbed and most poetic child;
  Said he, "Your plays and novels may all be very well,
  But I've an epic poem here on _Happiness in Hell_."

  And D., the pretty lyricist, he hummed and then he hawed,
  "I've half a hundred sonnets here to MABEL, MADGE, and MAUD.
  I'll read them first, and then I'll read"--the other three grew pale--
  "My last new book, _The Musings of a Town-bred Nightingale_."

         *       *       *       *       *
  And so they sat, and talked and talked, the argument waxed hot,
  For each one was a Genius born, and none would budge a jot.
  And till they settle who begins, and which of them shall yield,
  I fear the "dearth of Geniuses"--see speech--must hold the field.

       *       *       *       *       *

RATHER A LONG SHOT.--How to "attempt the life of the PREMIER."
Discharge a revolver in the neighbourhood of Downing Street, and
listen to the report in the evening papers.

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's note:

Missing and illegible/damaged punctuation has been repaired.

Page 208: 'Divison' corrected to 'Division'

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 104, May 6, 1893" ***

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