Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 105,  August  5th 1893
Author: Various
Language: English
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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

VOLUME 105, August 5th 1893

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_



THE DIRECTOR'S VADE MECUM.

_Question._ What is your duty as a Director?

_Answer._ To give my name to a prospectus.

_Q._ Is there any necessary formality before making this donation?

_A._ Yes; I am to accept a certain number of qualifying shares in the
company obtaining the advantage of my directorial services.

_Q._ Need you pay for these shares?

_A._ With proper manipulation, certainly not.

_Q._ What other advantages would you secure by becoming a Director?

_A._ A guinea an attendance.

_Q._ Anything else?

_A._ A glass of sherry and a sandwich.

_Q._ What are your duties at a Board Meeting?

_A._ To shake hands with the Secretary, and to sign an attendance
book.

_Q._ What are your nominal duties?

_A._ Have not the faintest idea.

_Q._ Would it be right to include in your nominal duties the
protection of the interests of the shareholders?

_A._ As likely as not.

_Q._ Would it be overstating the case to say that thousands and
thousands of needy persons are absolutely ruined by the selfish
inattention of a company's direction?

_A._ Not at all--possibly understating it.

_Q._ I suppose you never read a prospectus to which you put your name?

_A._ Never.

_Q._ Nor willingly wish to ruin any one?

_A._ No; why should I?

_Q._ You are guilty of gross ignorance and brutal indifference?

_A._ Quite so.

_Q._ And consequently know that, according to the view of the Judges,
you are above the law?

_A._ That is so.

_Q._ And may therefore do what you like, without any danger to your
own interests?

_A._ To be sure.

_Q._ And consequently will do what you best please, in spite of
anything, and anybody?

_A._ Why, certainly.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: DIFFERENCE OF OPINION.

_Stern Parent._ "NO WONDER YOU LOOK SO SEEDY AND FIT FOR NOTHING. I
HEAR YOU CAME HOME SO VERY LATE LAST NIGHT!"

_Youth (who is having his fling)._ "BEG YOUR PARDON, DAD, I DID
NOTHING OF THE SORT. I CAME HOME VERY EARLY!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

At a meeting of the International Maritime Congress "M. GATTO read
a paper on Harbour Lights." Does this mean that one of the Adelphoi
GATTI read the paper (extract from the play, or perhaps a play-bill)
on _Harbour Lights_, which was an Adelphi success? Of course one of
"the GATTI'S" would be in the singular "M. GATTO." The paper was much
applauded, and GATTO _prends le gâteau_.

       *       *       *       *       *

FROM SPIRIT LAND.--The Spirits or Spooks from the vasty deep that can
be called and will come when Stead-ily and persistently summoned will
not be the first to speak. The "Spooks" well-bred rule of politeness
is, "Don't spook till you're spooken to." Also, "A good Spook must be
seen and not heard."

       *       *       *       *       *

MUSIC FOR THE MULTITUDE;

OR, BELMONT ON THE EMBANKMENT.

_A Morality (adapted from the "Merchant of Venice") for Men in
Municipal Authority._

    ["The music on the Embankment during the pressman's
    dinner-hour is a much more important matter than it seems to
    be. It would be a most beneficial institution for all indoor
    labourers; for it is not the long hours of labour--though
    they are bad enough--so much as its monotony that makes it so
    wearisome."--_Mr. James Payn in "Our Note Book."_]

  _Lorenzo_  A Journeyman Printer.
  _Jessica_  His "Young Woman."

SCENE--_The Thames Embankment Garden._

  _Lorenzo._ Sweetheart, let's in; they may expect our coming.
  And yet no matter:--why should we go in?
  The Toffs at last, have had compassion on us,
  Within the house, or office, mewed too long,
  And bring our music forth into the air.

    [_They take a seat._

  How bright the sunshine gleams on this Embankment!
  Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
  Creep in our ears: soft green and Summer sunlight
  Become the touches of sweet harmony.
  Sit, JESSICA: look, how this green town-garden
  Is thickly crowded with the young and old:
  There's not the smallest child which thou behold'st
  But by his movements shows his young heart sings,
  As though poor kids were young eye'd cherubim:
  Such love of music lives in simple souls;
  But whilst grim pedants and fanatics sour
  Have power to stop, they will not let us hear it!

    [_Musicians tune up._

  Hullo! The _Intermezzo_. Like a hymn
  With sweeter touches charming to the ear,
  The soul's drawn home by music.

    [_Music._

  _Jessica._ I'm always soothed like when I hear nice music.

  _Lorenzo._ The reason is your spirits are responsive.
  For do but note a wild and wanton mob
  Of rough young rascals, like unbroken colts,
  Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and blaring loud,
  Which shows the hot condition of their blood;
  If they, perchance, but hear a brass-band sound,
  Or harp and fiddle duet touch their ears,
  Or even _Punch's_ pan-pipe, or shrill "squeaker,"
  You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
  Their wandering eyes turned to an earnest gaze,
  By the sweet power of music: therefore poets
  Tell us old Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods,
  Since naught so blockish, hard, insensible,
  But music for the time doth change his nature.
  The man who would keep music to himself,
  Grudging the mob all concord of sweet sounds,
  Is fit for Bedlam, not the County Council!
  The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
  And his affections cold as Arctic bergs.
  Let no such man be trusted!--Mark the music!

    (_Left marking it attentively._)

       *       *       *       *       *

A Northern Light.

(Dr. JOHN RAE, _the venerable and valiant Arctic Explorer, is dead_.)

  The Arctic Circle and far Hudson's Bay
  Bear witness to the glories of JOHN RAE.
  The darkened world, with deep regret, will own
  Another RAE of Light and Leading gone!

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. R. thinks she will not go abroad for a holiday tour. "You see, my
dear," she says, "I don't mind owning that I am not well up in French
and German, and I should not like to have always to be travelling
about with an Interrupter."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE."

DESIGN FOR A STAINED-GLASS WINDOW FOR WESTMINSTER, BY W. E. G.]

    ["Would his right hon. friend excuse his suggesting an
    analogy of the character which he bore with that which was
    systematically assumed, he believed, under ancient rules, in
    the Court of Rome ... when it was proposed, in consequence
    of the peculiar excellence of some happy human being who
    had departed this life, to raise him ... to the order of the
    saints ... there was always brought into the Court a gentleman
    who went ... under the name of devil's advocate. His peculiar
    function was to go through the career of the proposed saint,
    to seize upon and magnify every human failing or error, to
    misconstrue everything that was capable of misconstruction....
    That was the case of his right hon. friend."--_Mr. Gladstone
    on Mr. Chamberlain._]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A TRIAL OF FAITH.

_Bertie (at intervals)._ "I USED TO----WHAT THE----DO A LOT
OF----CONF----ROWING, ONE TIME!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

"THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE."

_Old Parliamentary Pictor soliloquiseth_:--

  "_As when a painter, poring on a face,
  Divinely thro' all hindrance finds the man
  Behind it, and so paints him that his face,
  The shape and colour of a mind and life,
  Lives for his children, ever at its best
  And fullest._"

              Aye, my ALFRED, there you hit
  The portrait-painter's function to a hair;
  And here I hit the essential inner JOE.
  And so he'll live. But "ever at his best,
  And fullest?" Humph! His Brummagem retinue
  Will scarce acknowledge _that_. Some call him "JUDAS,"
  But that is rude, and leads to shameful rows.
  Chaff is one thing and insolence another;
  E'en caricature may pass, so that its impulse
  Be humorous not malevolent; but coarse spleen,
  Taking crude shape in truthless graphic slander,
  Is boyish work,--bad manners and bad art!
  And so TAY PAY transgressed the bounds of taste,
  And led to shameful shindy. HEROD? Humph!
  _That_ flout "lacked finish," as great DIZZY said,
  _He_ pricked, not stabbed, was fencer, not brute-bruiser,
  But he of Brummagem hath much to learn
  In gentlemanly sword-play.
                  "Devil's Advocate!"
  That hits him off, I think! _Not_ Devil,--no!
  (Though angry blunderheads will twist it that way)
  But ruthless slater of the pseudo-saint!
  The pseudo-saint, I own, looks limp and floppy,
  Half-fledged and awkward at the cherub _rôle_.
  Poor saint! He's had much mauling, must have more,
  Ere he assumes the nimbus, and I would
  That he looked less lop-sided. Yes, my JOE!
  You'll spot some "human failings" I've no doubt.
  To exercise your "double million magnifyin'
  Gas microscopes of hextra power" upon.
  Your "wision" is not "limited" by "deal doors"
  Or "flights o' stairs," or friends, or facts, or fairness,
  You hardly need suggestions diabolic
  From that hook-nosed attorney at your elbow
  To urge you to the attack; erect, alert,
  Orchid-adorned, and eye-glass-armed, you stand
  The sharpest, shrewdest, most acidulous,
  Dapper and dauntless "Devil's Advocate"
  That ever blackened a poor "saint" all over
  Othello-wise, or robbed a postulant
  For canonisation of a hopeful chance
  Of full apotheosis, and the right
  Of putting on the nimbus.
                    There, 'tis finished:
  And--on the whole--'twere well I had not limned it!
  'Twas tempting, yes, and pleasant in the painting,
  But--well, I've paid for it, and much misdoubt
  If it was worth the price. Followers applaud,
  I--suffer. Oh, that mob of scuffling men,
  Clawing and cursing, while the gallery hissed!
  _Hissed_--not a pothouse outpour in full fight,
  Not clamorous larrikins, or rowdy roughs
  By prize-ring or on race-course fired with drink,
  But England's Commons settling--with their fists
  A Constitutional Contest! Shame, O shame!
  And much I fear my Art must _somewhat_ share the blame!

    [_Left lamenting._

       *       *       *       *       *

FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE.

    "Mrs. Tanqueray has left town."

  They talk of ALEXANDER
    And Mrs. _Tanque-ray_,
  Now who would raise my dander
    Will just abuse that play.
        For few there are
        That can compare--
  Well,--if so, give their names,--
    With _Mrs. Tanque-ray_
    Who has just gone away
  From the Theatre of St. James.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. R. says that of all SHAKSPEARE'S plays produced at the Lyceum,
she liked _Henry the Eighth_ the best, because of the character of
_Cardinal Bullseye_, which Mr. IRVING played so sweetly.

       *       *       *       *       *

STATUES OF THE TWO NEW PARLIAMENTARY GIANTS TO BE ERECTED AS GUARDING
THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.--Gag and Maygag.

       *       *       *       *       *

THEATRICAL PEDESTRIAN MATCH.--Match between two "Walking Gentlemen."
Date not yet fixed. Stake-holder "Walker, London."

       *       *       *       *       *

A VISIT TO BORDERLAND.

[Illustration]

  I called on Mr. STEAD last week, at least I seemed to call,
  For in this "visionary" world one can't be sure at all;
  And when I reached the great man's house he shook me by the hand,
  And talked, as only STEAD can talk, of Spooks and _Borderland_,
  I own that I was tired of men who live upon the earth,
  They hadn't recognised, I felt, my full and proper worth;
  "They'll judge me much more fairly," I reflected, "when they're
          dead,--
  So I'll go and seek an interview with WILLIAM THOMAS STEAD."

  The reason why I went to STEAD is this: the great and good
  Has lately found that English ghosts are much misunderstood;
  Substantial man may swagger free, but, spite of all his boasts,
  STEAD holds there is a future, and a splendid one, for ghosts.
  And so he has an office, a sort of ghostly COOK'S,
  Where tours may be contracted for to Borderland and Spooks;
  And those who yearn to mix with ghosts have only got to go
  And talk, as I conversed, with STEAD for half an hour or so.

  The ghosts have got a paper too, the _Borderland_ I spoke of,
  Where raps and taps are registered that scoffers make a joke of:
  A medium's magazine it is, a ghostly gazetteer
  Produced by WILLIAM THOMAS STEAD, the Julianic seer.
  And everything that dead men do to help the men who live,
  The chains they clank, the sighs they heave, the warnings that
          they give,
  The coffin-lids they lift at night when folk are tucked in bed,
  Are all set down in black and white by WILLIAM THOMAS STEAD.

  While wide-awake he sees such shapes as others merely dream on;
  For instance there is JULIA, a sort of female dæmon;
  Like some tame hawk she stoops to him, she perches on his wrist--
  In life she was a promising, a lady journalist;
  And now that death has cut her off she leaves the ghostly strand
  And turns her weekly copy out by guiding WILLIAM'S hand.
  Yet, oh, it makes me writhe like one who sits him down on tin tacks
  To note that happy ghost's contempt for grammar and for syntax.

  Well, well, I called on STEAD, you know; a doctor's talk of diet is,
  And STEAD'S was of his psychic food as cure for my anxieties.
  I thought I'd take a chair to sit (it looked to me quite common) on,
  "You can't sit there," observed the Sage; "that's merely a
          phenomenon."
  Two ladies, as I entered, seemed expressing of their gratitudes
  For help received to Mr. STEAD in sentimental attitudes;
  They saw me, pirouetted twice, then vanished with a high kick.
  "It's nothing," said the Editor; "they are not real, but psychic."

  These things, I own, surprised me much; I fidgetted uneasily;
  "Why, bless the man, he's had a shock!" said Mr. STEAD, quite
          breezily.
  "_We_ do these things the whole year round, it's merely knack to
          do them;
  A man who does them every day gets quite accustomed to them.
  This room of mine is full of ghosts,"--it sounded most funereal--
  "I've only got to say the word to make them all material.
  I'll say it promptly, if you wish; they cannot well refuse me."
  But my eagerness had vanished, and I begged him to excuse me.

  "Now JULIA," he continued, "is in many ways a rum one,
  But, whatever else they say of her, they can't say she's a dumb one.
  She speaks--she's speaking now," he said. "I wonder what she'll
          tell us.
  What's that? She says she likes your looks; she wants to make me
          jealous."
  That gave me pause, and made me think 'twas fully time I went; it is
  A fearful thing to fascinate these bodiless non-entities.
  Of course when people go to Rome they act like folk at Rome, you
          know,
  But flirting didn't suit my book--I've got a wife at home, you know.

  Well, next I felt a gust of wind, "That's Colonel BONES," my host
          said;
  "He's dropped his helmet" (think of that, a helmet on a ghost's
          head).
  "I don't much care," he whispered this, "in fact, I can't endure
          him;
  Dragoons do use such awful words; I've tried in vain to cure him."
  I ventured to suggest to STEAD that rather than be bluffed I
  Would make this cursing soldier-ghost turn out in psychic mufti;
  He couldn't drop his helmet then, nor threaten with his sabre.
  "I've tried to," said the Editor, "it's only wasted labour.

  "I've sought advice," continued STEAD, "from CANTUAR and EBOR,
  They hinted that they couldn't stand a she-ghost and a he-bore.
  I tried to get a word or two from men of arts and letters,
  They said they drew the line at Spooks who made a noise with
          fetters.
  And when I talked of bringing men and ghostly shapes together
  The Bishops tapped their foreheads and conversed about the weather.
  In fact"--he grew quite petulant--"in all this world's immensity
  I'd back the Bench of Bishops to beat the rest in density."

  And so he talked, till suddenly--(perhaps he's talking still;
  In talking of his own affairs, he has a wondrous skill)--
  There came a noise, as if Old BONES had let off all his blanks at
          once,
  As if a thousand theorists were turning all their cranks at once;
  It seemed to lift me off my legs, and seize me by the hair,
  And sweep me mute but terrified through all the spook-filled air.
  And, when I got my senses back, I vowed no more to tread
  The paths that lead to Borderland, nor ask advice of STEAD.

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

_Pietro Ghisleri_ is another success for that charming writer MARION
CRAWFORD. The style is everything. The story is not of so thrilling a
nature as to be absorbing, but it is sufficiently interesting--for the
Baron, at least, with whom M.C.--"Master of his Craft"--is a great
favourite. "Odd, though," murmurs the Baron to himself, and he seldom
murmurs about anything; "odd that a writer like our MARION should,
in Vol. II., p. 35, pen such a sentence as this: "There are plenty
of others whom you may care for more than I." Of course the author
intends _Maddalena del' Armi_, who utters these words, to convey to
her listener and to the reader that "There are plenty of others for
whom you may care more than (you care) for me." How does "than I" get
into this sentence, unless it is to mean "There are plenty of others
for whom you may care more than I care for them"--_quod est absurdum_."
It is unfortunate that the pivot on which the plot turns is so highly
improbable as to be almost impossible, for is it not most unlikely
that any Catholic, educated or uneducated, should ever _write_ her
confession to her confessor, and send it by post, instead of going to
him, and making it by word of mouth? She must have known that, in
so doing, she was making no confession at all, _i.e._, in the
restrictedly religious sense of the word. While she was about it, she
might as well have inclosed a stamped and addressed envelope for the
absolution to be sent by return. This is the hinge of the story; and
it is a very weak one. Mr. CRAWFORD recognises this when his
other characters casually discuss the probability of _Adèle's_
having done such a thing. However, grant this, which is almost as
easily done as granting superhuman strength to a Ouidaesque hero,
and the book--in three of MACMILLAN'S blue volumes--is fascinating.
Such is the candid opinion of THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE SPIRIT LEVEL.

_Relentless Youth._ "'ULLO 'ERE, GUV'NOR, WHAT 'YER UP TO NAOW? TYKIN'
A HORDNANCE SURWEY O' THE DISTRICT, I SUPPOSE!!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

TO A PARISIENNE.

  ["Paris est le centre du bon goût."--_Les Précieuses Ridiculis,
          Scène X._]

  By Jove, what festive tints you wear, _chère_ Madame!
  These _fin-de-siècle_ furbelows of la dame
  Would scare the very simply dressed _Père_ ADAM.
                  On you they're charming;
  But when the fashion spreads to distant quarters,
  And far across the Channel's choppy waters
  They glow on England's humble, tasteless daughters,
                  They'll be alarming.
  Bright blue, gay green, loud lilac, yelling yellow--
  Yelling for _criard_, pray forgive a fellow
  For using words that time has not turned mellow--
                  Must not be worse made
  Than in your costumes, gracefully assorted.
  Think what these tints will be, transposed, distorted,
  By English laundress, flower-girl, and sported
                  By cook or nursemaid!
  Our eyes! Oh, save them then with shades or goggles!
  For reason totters on its throne, which joggles.
  In choosing tints the Englishwoman boggles;
                 "_Chacun à son goût._"
  You're always _comme il faut_ from boots to bonnet.
  For Paris, praised in song, and ode, and sonnet,
  Is still, as when _les Précieuses_ doated on it,
                 "_Le centre du bon goût._"

       *       *       *       *       *

"MERRY MARGIT!"--"I was at Margate last July," sang THOMAS BARHAM,
when telling of the _Little Vulgar Boy_, and so were we, this
July, for the purpose of passing a few happy hours at the renovated
Cliftonville Hotel under the government of Mr. HOLLAND, vice-regent
for Messrs. GORDON & CO. No need now to quit the shores of England
for Antwerp, Rotterdam, or any other of the Rotterdamerung Cycle, as
visitors to Margate will, on our own shore, find HOLLAND. In the
menu Sauce Hollandaise is avoided, and Politesse Hollandaise is
substituted, to the satisfaction of everybody.

  "Voilà ce que l'on dit de moi
  Dans la Gazette de Hollande!"

Which couplet the Manageress might sing, as they are words from _The
Grand Dutchess_.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE MAN MAKES THE TAILOR.

(_Fragment from a Seasonable Romance._)

It was towards the close of the London season of 1893 that a man in a
strange garb was seen at an early hour in the East End of London. He
attracted considerable attention. It was a rough part of the City,
still, those who lived there were conventional in their costume. They
wore black coats, and there was a certain respectability about their
hats. But the man to whom we refer was eccentric in the extreme. His
straw hat was worn at the back of his head, his cut-away coat was
thrown open, showing a huge, collarless coloured cotton shirt. He had
flannel trousers tucked into digger's boots. No one knew whence he
came, whither he was going.

"Have you noticed him?" asked the Inspector.

"Yes, Sir," replied the Police Constable, "he's got white hands, so if
he belongs to the dangerous classes, he is a smasher, or a forger, or
something genteel in that line."

"Well, keep your eye upon him."

"I will, Sir."

And the strange-looking person continued his way. As he walked through
the City, the merchants regarded him with surprise, but there
were those amongst the stockbrokers who seemed to receive him with
recognition.

"I fancy I have seen the Johnnie somewhere before," observed one
Member of the House to another. "I am almost sure I know the cut of
his suit."

And the man walked on until he reached Knightsbridge. There he was
stopped by an elderly, well-dressed, well-to-do individual, who had
evidently just come up from the country. The two pedestrians started
back when they met face to face.

"What are you doing in that hideous disguise?" asked the senior of the
junior.

"It is no disguise, father," was the reply; "it is only the customary
get up of a young man of fashion between the hours of nine and eleven
when he proposes to walk in the park."

And, with these words, the strange apparition crossed over the road,
and entered Rotten Row. And here he was soon lost in a crowd quite as
eccentrically garbed as himself.

       *       *       *       *       *

A WAY THEY HAVE IN THE CITY.

SCENE--_Board-room of a Public Company._ TIME--_A few minutes after
the close of a General Meeting._ PRESENT--_Chairman of Directors and
Secretary._

_Chairman._ Well, I think I got in all that was wanted?

_Secretary._ Could not have been better, Sir. You had the figures at
your fingers' ends.

_Chair. (laughing)._ You mean on a sheet of paper in front of me.

_Sec._ And everyone was satisfied, Sir.

_Chair._ As they should have been, considering my flaming account of
the prosperity of the undertaking. By the way, _is_ it flourishing?

_Sec._ Well, Sir, that is scarcely in my department. You must ask the
auditors.

_Chair._ Oh, never mind; it is a matter of no importance.

_Sec._ I daresay if you wanted any information, Sir, I could get it
for you.

_Chair._ No, thanks, I don't want to increase my work. I am sure I do
quite enough for my wretched two or three hundred a year--don't you
think so?

_Sec._ Certainly, Sir. You do a great deal more than some Chairmen.

_Chair._ Yes, I suppose I do. Come here once a year, and preside over
an Annual Meeting, and draw my fees. What more _can_ I do?

_Sec._ I'm sure I don't know, Sir. A knowledge of the duties of a
Chairman of Directors comes scarcely within the scope of my required
services.

_Chair._ Quite so; and now I will say Good-bye!

_Sec._ See you again next year, Sir?

_Chair._ Certainly. If I don't sell out in the meantime. And now
I must be off. I am due at another meeting, and have to get up the
necessary figures in five minutes. Do you think I shall do it in the
time?

_Sec._ Certainly, Sir. You managed the task in less here.

[_Scene closes in upon the valuable pair--and the security of the
Public._

       *       *       *       *       *

"FRIENDLY RIFLERY."--"MELLISH has followed his miss with an inner and
two bullseyes." Very kind of MELLISH. We hope "his Miss" accepted the
two bullseyes. "BOYD and GIBBS got magpies." Whatever sort of pies
these may be, it is evident that, with "pies" and "bullseyes," our
riflemen are fond of sweets.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MAGNA EST VERITAS.

"MY DAUGHTER WILL NEVER GET ANOTHER PLACE WITH THE CHARACTER YOU'VE
BEEN GIVING HER, MY LADY!"

"I'VE ONLY TOLD THE _TRUTH_ ABOUT YOUR DAUGHTER, AND NOTHING _BUT_ THE
TRUTH!"

"HOW WOULD YOU LIKE THE TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH, TOLD ABOUT
_YOU_, MY LADY?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE FRENCH WOLF AND THE SIAMESE LAMB.

_An Old Fable with a New Setting._

  A little lamb lived by a flowing stream.
    A great temptation, when the heat was torrid,
  To thirsty souls that water's limpid gleam.
    At least so thought a Wolf, of aspect horrid,
  Who, having for some time abstained and fasted,
  Desired to learn how lamb--and water--tasted.
  He felt with pinching want his paunch was pining,
  Early he'd lunched, so longed the more for dining.
    A Cochin China rooster, lank and thin,
    Or something indigestible from Tonquin,
  For a big, sharp-set Wolf, are snacks, not meals;
  So down the sparkling river Lupus steals,
    Quite uninvited, but intent on forage,
    Fronting the fleecy flocks with wondrous courage;
  For whether in the Southdowns, or Siam,
  By the near Medway, or the far Menam,
  Your Wolf is most courageous--with your Lamb!
  With joy the Lamb he spied, then, growling, said,
    "Sirrah! how dare you thus disturb my drink?"
  The Lamb, in answer, meekly bowed its head--
    "_I_ trouble not the water, Sir, I think,
  Particularly as I'm sure you'll see
  It flows--observe the drift--from you to me!
  You're welcome in the stream to slake your thirst,
  But, may I just observe, _I was here first!_"
  "Oh! you chop logic!" cried the angry brute.
    "I can chop, too:--you've done me other wrong.
  Young Mutton, best with _me_ not to dispute!
    You've given me already too much tongue.
  Are _you_ the home-born boss of all Siam,
  Of fleet Mekong, and many-creek'd Menam?"
  Mildly young woolly-face replied, "I _am_!"
    His optics orientally oblique,
    Rolling in manner sheepish, soft, and meek.
  "Oh, _are_ you?" snarled the Wolf. "_We_'ll see about it!
    'Twixt Western Wolf and Oriental Lamb
    Equality is a preposterous flam:
  Do you--as Tonquin did--presume to doubt it?
    Fraternity? Well, I'm your elder brother;
    And Liberty--to you--means nought but bother.
  See, silly-face?" "Well, no," the Lamb replied,
  "Such reciprocity seems all one side.
  Not six o' one and half a dozen o' 'tother!"
  "Pooh!" snapped the Wolf.  "Logic's clear _terra firma_
    Is not for Lambkin, but for Wolf or Lion.
    If you such little games with me should try on,
  I'd treat you--well, as Bull did little Burmah.
  I have imperative claims; I'm going to state 'em
  With lupine brevity in an ultimatum.
    That--after some two days--must stand as Law;
    If after that you give me any jaw,
    My little Mutton--well, beware my maw!"

        MORAL.

  This truth my simple Fable doth attest,
  He who has strongest jaw argues the best!

       *       *       *       *       *

AT DALY'S.--The Comedy _Love in Tandem_ ought to have been in three
shorter Acts. Mr. LEWIS excellent, so is Mrs. GILBERT, who has not
more than ten words to say, but a lot to act. Spanish widow also good.
Mr. BOURCHIER is a marvellous example of the "Walking Gentleman,"
being perpetually on the move. It is gratifying to see him sit down
for even a few seconds. Like the engineer of the penny steamboat in
the burlesque of _Kenilworth_, he "has very much to larn"; but this
fact need not discourage him, any more than it did Mr. HENRY IRVING,
according to Mr. PERCY FITZGERALD'S recently published book of
Irvingite Recollections, at the commencement of his career. Miss REHAN
is, _par excellence_, the life and soul of the piece; and when there
has been, in her absence, a dull moment or two, she re-enters and
Rehanimates the whole.

       *       *       *       *       *

"Swimming has been much neglected in the British Navy," observed Mr.
PHILOOLY. "When there's a Parliament in Dublin we'll pass a law that
not a sailor shall leave _terra firma_ till he can swim."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE FRENCH WOLF AND THE SIAMESE LAMB.]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE SCHOPENHAUER BALLADS.

No. I.-THE AQUARIUM OCTOPUS.

  The world is full of pretty things
    That everyone admires,
  And beauty, even though skin-deep,
    Is what the world desires.
  I'm handicapped I feel in life,
    For very obvious reasons,
  And yet my family always think
    I'm lovely in all seasons!

  My time is principally passed
    In caverns under water,
  My family are mostly sharks,
    Except a mermaid daughter;
  She sings her songs and combs her hair
    To tempt unwary whalers,
  And when we lure them down below
    It's bad for those poor sailors.

  I cannot say I like the sea,
    The bottom, top, or middle.
  It's always asking, night and day,
    The same confounded riddle:
  "Why was I made, except to drown
    The surplus population?"
  This is the sad sea wave's remark
    At every sea-side station.

  It makes me think about myself--
    Octopus too unsightly--
  Which are my arms and which my legs
    I never can tell rightly;
  I frighten children--old and young--
    Without the least intention,
  I saved a school from drowning once,
    But that I mustn't mention!

  I'm now at the Aquarium,
    A "side-show" much belauded,
  My antics, shown three times a day,
    Are very much applauded;
  The pay is not extremely large--
    A weekly bare subsistence;
  I take it meekly, for it breaks
    The boredom of existence.

       *       *       *       *       *

BALLADE OF EARLSCOURT.

  I've really been extremely gay--
    I've done most things (I mean, in reason)--
  And, though "it is not always _May_,"
    It has been, during my first season.
  At balls and parties I've had fun;
    I've listened to Home-Rule disputes;
  There's only one thing I've not done--
    Alas! I've not been down "the Chutes"!

  With screams and laughter from the height
    I saw men splash their nice new suits;
  It seemed to cause them great delight;
    But still--I have not shot the Chutes.

  I've been to all the good first nights,
    I've cried at DUSÉ, laughed at PENLEY,
  I have seen all the London sights,
    I've been to Sandown, Lord's, and Henley.
  At IBSEN I've serenely smiled,
    While suff'ring torture from new boots;
  GLADSTONE I've met, and OSCAR WILDE--
    But ah! I've not been down the Chutes!

        _Envoi._

  Prince, one regret I feel on leaving
    For country air, and flowers, and fruits--
  I quit gay London only grieving
    To think I have not shot the Chutes!

       *       *       *       *       *

"A deuce of a mess between France and Siam," observed a Bow-window
Politician of Clubland. "A deuce of a mess?" repeated the other
Bow-window man. "You mean, as far as France is concerned, it's the
very DEVELLE!"

       *       *       *       *       *

WHY ELINOR IS EVER YOUNG.

(_By a Fiancé à la Mode._)

[Illustration]

    ["... The women they might have married--the girls whom they
    danced with when they were youths--have grown too old for our
    middle-aged suitors."--_Standard._]

  I'm just engaged: I'm forty-five--
    Our modern prime for wedded blisses.
  The age _par excellence_ to wive
    With blooming _fin-de-siècle_ Misses;
  I'm very happy; so's my Love;
    I don't regret that long I've tarried;--
  And yet I can't help thinking of
    The damozels I might have married.

  Yes; there was JANET, slim and pert;
    I took her in last night to dinner,
  And cannot honestly assert
    That years conspire to make her thinner;
  Yet once we cooed o'er tea and buns;
    She quite forgets how on we carried,
  Nor owns, with undergraduate sons,
    That _she_ was one I might have married.

  And LILIAN, emanation soft,
    Fair widow of the latter Sixties,
  Ideal of the faith that oft
    With earliest homage intermixt is;
  I used to dream her, oh! so young;
    She's wrinkled now and bent and arid;
  It almost desecrates my tongue,
    But _she_ was one I might have married.

  A truce to recollection sore;
    I'm still considered smart and youthful;
  And trusting, darling ELINOR
    Assures me so with passion truthful;
  In my fond eyes she'll wither ne'er,
    Because--the fact can scarce be parried--
  I shan't survive to see her share
    The fate of those I might have married!

        Mixed.

  I'm Chargé d'Affaires--"Siam?" _Oui._
  Pour England je don't care one "d."
        Je prig le Mekong,
        Si je keep it not long--
  They call me "Brigand!"--_Je le suis._

       *       *       *       *       *

MIND YOUR PEASE AND Q.'S.--_Q._ "Why did Sir DONALD CURRIE pair with
Sir JOSEPH PEASE?"--No; we are not going to say anything about "PEASE
and CURRIE" going together--we scorn getting a rice out of you that
way--besides, this dish has been overdone. But the simple answer is,
that as Sir DONALD couldn't get any other pair this one was a "_Pease
aller_." [We're better now. "Pax!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE RULE OF THE SEA.

(_For the Use of Admirers of the Admiralty._)

_Question._ What is your duty as a sailor in Her Majesty's Fleet?

_Answer._ To carry out the orders of my superiors.

_Q._ If you were told that black was white what would you say?

_A._ That white was black.

_Q._ If you were informed that two and two made five would you believe
it?

_A._ Certainly, and insist that those who thought four was the proper
answer had been gravely misinformed.

_Q._ Would you believe a captain to be always in the right?

_A._ Yes, from a lieutenant's point of view. Although, of course, I
should consider him the weakest of authorities in the presence of an
admiral.

_Q._ Would you ever act upon your own responsibility?

_A._ Never; as such a course would be destructive to good discipline.

_Q._ Then, if you were told to perform an impossible man[oe]uvre you
would attempt to do it?

_A._ Certainly.

_Q._ Even if you saw that the result must be disaster?

_A._ Yes. I should choose the lesser of two evils.

_Q._ To what two evils do you refer?

_A._ Loss of life by my obedience, and loss of discipline by my
disobedience.

_Q._ Which would be the smaller of the two disasters?

_A._ The loss of life.

_Q._ But did not NELSON solve a problem of a somewhat similar
character by using his blind eye?

_A._ Yes; but then NELSON was unique.

       *       *       *       *       *

AN AUSTRALIAN A B C.

  A is Australia, the land of their birth.
  B for BRUCE, BANNERMAN, batsmen of worth.
  C is young CONINGHAM, more than a learner.
  D is the Demon, once SPOFFORTH, now TURNER.
  E the Excitement to see them all play,
  F is the Four on the ground all the way.
  G is for GRAHAM, the GIFFENS, and GREGORY,
  H is a Hit that's maybe in the leg or eye.
  I is the Interest that's caused in the cricket,
  J is for JARVIS, who sometimes keeps wicket.
  K is the Kangaroo, bold and defiant,
  L is JACK LYONS, who hits like a giant.
  M is MCLEOD, and was MURDOCH of yore,
  N are the Nets, where they practice before.
  O their Opponents, delighted to meet them,
  P for the People, so ready to greet them.
  Q is the Question, "How's that"--Out or Not?
  R is that terror of batsmen--a Rot.
  S their success, making Englishmen humble,
  T is for TROTT, and stands also for TRUMBLE.
  U is the Umpire, to whom they all shout,
  V is the Voice, in which he cries "Out!"
  W the Wickets, our land does not lack 'em,
  X is their Xcellent keeper--friend BLACKHAM.
  Y is the Yorker, that's fatal to some,
  And Z shows the ending has really come.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Great Ferris Wheel at Chicago Exhibition can "complete a
revolution in seven minutes." Valuable this in Paris. No military
required.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.

SCENE--_Editor's Sanctum, "The Halfpenny Slater."_

_Critic._ "WHAT A PITY SHAKSPEARE'S DEAD! IT WOULD BE SUCH A SCORE TO
PITCH INTO HIM AS AN OVER-RATED OLD IDIOT! IT'S NEVER BEEN DONE YET
THAT I KNOW OF!"

_Editor._ "AH! CAPITAL IDEA! I DON'T SEE THAT HIS BEING DEAD MAKES ANY
ODDS!"

_Critic._ "OH YES--FOR THE READER! DEAD 'UNS DON'T FEEL, YOU KNOW,
AND THERE'S NOBODY BIG ENOUGH LIVING NOW TO BE WORTH POWDER AND SHOT,
CONFOUND IT!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

FROM OUR ISLAND SPECIAL.

"I come to Cowes," quoth the German Emperor right merrily, "as the
greatest compliment I can pay to JOHN BULL. But where are the Royal
carriages and Royal personages to receive me?" Admiral COMMERELL
steered himself along the main roads, and played the part of the
look-out man to perfection. "Nothing in the offing," he reported to
the Emperor. "I hope," returned His Imperial Majesty, with a smile,
"that this sort of thing doesn't offing happen." Everybody in
convulsions of laughter, which just filled up the time till the
appearance on the scene of the Duke of CONNAUGHT on the top of the
cabin, in the full uniform of a General of the Horse Marines. "You're
too punctual by half a minute," called out the Duke to the Admiral.
Then the Admiral piped his eye, and the Royalties lighted cigarettes.
"Here are the carriages! step in!" quoth the Duke. "Aha!" cried the
Emperor gaily, in his perfect English. "Here is the carriage and the
'oss, so now we shall be borne by the 'oss to _Os-borne_!" Every one
in convulsions, and amid roars of laughter the Duke and the Emperor
drove off.

       *       *       *       *       *

CURIOUS CRICKET ANOMALY.

  When a batsman has piled up a hundred, or more,
  Though five twenties he's hit, he has made but "a score."

       *       *       *       *       *

JUST SUE!

  When a smart cove "sues" a sweet girl, for her hand,
    Then sueing is soft and as sweet as a peach.
  But e'en sueing comes bitter, you'll all understand,
    When he bolts, and _she_ sues _him_--"for Breach!"
  A true suitor may suit her, but, faithless, the brute
  Deserves what he'll get, a complete change of suit!

       *       *       *       *       *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Lords, Monday, July 24._--Haven't heard much of House of
Lords this Session. Will take the floor presently, and show Commons
how Legislation should be conducted. For weeks and months they've been
slaving round Home-Rule Bill. Noble Lords, with fuller experience, and
heaven-born aptitude, undertake to polish it off in a week. Meanwhile
have had less work than usual to do. Might even have made long Summer
holiday. Patriotically insisted upon meeting four times a week, to
show, to whom it may concern, that at least they are ready for work.

To-night suddenly blazed forth with amazing vigour. Old friend EVELYN
BARING, taking his seat under new style, Lord CROMER, agreeably
surprised; House almost full; Opposition in high feather; cheered
CADOGAN and the MARKISS with rare enthusiasm.

"I suppose the question is either the Church or the Land?" said
CROMER, looking up his Orders of the Day. "Heard in Egypt those were
only subjects that made you sit up."

"There's one other," said CARRINGTON, to whom remark was addressed;
"though you will say it practically comes to the same thing. It's Mr.
G. Anything connected with him ruffles House with sudden storm. Mr. G.
made HOUGHTON Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. HOUGHTON a charming
fellow; popular in both camps; but being Mr. G.'s selection for the
Viceroyalty, we--I mean they--are bound to go for him."

Went for him to-night hammer and tongues. CADOGAN, not usually a peer
of bloodthirsty aspect, clenched his teeth with ominous vigour when he
discovered HOUGHTON was not present. Had sent him special invitation,
he explained. Had even gone so far as to leave to him choice of
date for his execution. "And now," cried CADOGAN, glaring round the
appalled House, "his Excellency is not here!"

His absence commented on with towering vigour. Lord Lieutenant's
procedure, in his dealing with addresses, "dishonest, dishonourable,
discreditable to all concerned," said CADOGAN, by way of final shot,
intended to sink whole Ministerial Bench.

MARKISS, not to be outdone, denounced Mr. G. as "a despot," and his
colleagues in the Government "a well-trained company of mutes." As
for something Lord SPENCER had said, MARKISS described it as "a
pure invention," which is much politer than Mr. MANTALINI'S way of
referring to similar lapse as "a demnition lie." House sat as late as
half-past six, and went off home in high good humour. "Quite a
long time since we wet our spears," said the MARKISS. "Just as well
sometime, dear TOBY, to show you fellows in the Commons what we can
do."

_Business done._--In Commons Financial Clause to Home-Rule Bill passed
Second Reading.

_House of Commons, Tuesday._--DON'T KEIR HARDIE on again with fresh
inquiry as to misadventure to one ARTHUR WALKER on day of Royal
Wedding. Mr. WALKER (of London) it appears had difficulty with mounted
officer in command of company of troops. Officer says that when
ordered to fall back WALKER seized his horse's rein. ARTHUR says
"Walker!"; didn't do anything of the sort. That remains in dispute.
What is clear is that WALKER got slight scalp wound, inflicted by
the warrior's sword. DON'T KEIR HARDIE wants sworn inquiry into case.
CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN puts whole case in nutshell. "An accident," he
says, "a regrettable accident; entirely owing to fact of the sharp
edge of the sword meeting the man's head, instead of the flat edge."

That was all; but WALKER seems to think it was enough. Carried out on
a larger scale, before and since Waterloo, similar accidents have
had even more direful results. But CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN, by voice and
manner, succeeded in throwing into explanation an amount of conviction
that communicated itself to House, and even quietened DON'T KEIR
HARDIE. The choice of the word "meeting" was perhaps most exquisite
touch in answer. Without venturing upon assertion, it conveyed
impression that responsibility for regrettable occurrence was fully
shared by Mr. WALKER. Meeting implies advance from either side. To
accomplish the contact, Mr. WALKER'S head must have advanced in the
direction of the sword, which at the moment happened to be going the
other way, unfortunately with the sharp edge to the front. Hence,
between the two, the abrasion of Mr. WALKER'S skull.

[Illustration: VIEW OF "COMMITTEE STAGE OF THE HOME-RULE BILL." "CALL"
FOR THE AUTHOR AND MANAGER.]

CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN did not add another word, but everyone who knows
his kindness of heart will understand his unuttered wish that when in
future WALKER takes his walks abroad he will be more careful. At least,
if his head insists upon meeting swords going the other way, he may be
expected to note whether it is the sharp edge or the flat that is out
for the day.

_Business done._--Financial Clause Home-Rule Bill in Committee. A long
dull night, flashing forth at end in encounter between JOSEPH and his
"right hon. friend." Mr. G. in tremendous force and vigour. In its way
it was CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN'S story over again, JOSEPH'S blameless head
meeting the sharp edge of Mr. G.'s sword. Where difference came in was
in circumstance that no one seemed to regard accident as regrettable.
On contrary, whilst the Home-Rulers whooped in wild delight, the
Opposition crowded the benches to watch the fun.

_Friday_, 1.20 A.M.--If there is in the world at this moment a
thoroughly astonished man it is JOHN WILLIAM LOGAN, Member of
Parliament for the South (Harborough) division of Leicestershire. Just
now LOGAN'S mind is disturbed and his collar ruffled by an incident in
the passage of Home-Rule Bill; but he is capable of giving perfectly
coherent account of events. At ten o'clock MELLOR rose as usual to set
in motion machinery of guillotine. Question at moment before Committee
peremptorily put. LOGAN, unguardedly descending from serene atmosphere
of side gallery, reached floor of House; was passing between table and
Front Opposition Bench towards division lobby when he beheld vision of
VICARY GIBBS skipping down gangway steps shouting and waving his arms.
LOGAN, a man of philosophical temperament and inquiring mind, halted
to watch course of events. Something apparently wrong in the City;
things either gone up or gone down; VICARY GIBBS certainly come down;
was now seated beside PRINCE ARTHUR, with hat fiercely pressed over
brow, excitedly shouting at Chairman. As everybody else was shouting
at same moment, Chairman wrung his hands, and spasmodically cried
"Order! Order!" LOGAN had presence of mind to note that whilst VICARY
in any pause in the storm cried aloud, "Mr. MELLOR, I rise to order,"
he was sitting down all the time with his hat on.

That was LOGAN'S last collected idea before personal affairs
entirely engrossed his attention. HAYES FISHER, in ordinary times
mildest-mannered man that ever helped to govern Ireland, took note of
LOGAN still standing in passage between Front Bench and table; effect
upon him miraculous.

"Yah, LOGAN!" he yelled; "get out. Bah! bah! go to the Bar."

Contagion of fury touched CARSON, who had hitherto been shouting
at large. He now turned on LOGAN. "Gag! gag!" he yelled. "Gang of
gaggers." Then, in heat of moment, he cried above the uproar, "Gag of
gangers."

This too much for LOGAN. Hitherto stood everything; now sat down
in contiguity to CARSON. Here is where the surprise came in. Front
Opposition Bench not his usual place, but was nearest available seat.
His standing up objected to; it was certainly against rules of law and
order that prevail in the House of Commons. Very well then, he would
sit down. This he did, taking vacant place by CARSON. But, like the
bo'sun and the sailor strung up for forty lashes, hit high or hit low
he couldn't please them. The scene that followed has no parallel
since similar disturbance took place in Dotheboys Hall when _Nicholas
Nickleby_ revolted and "took it out" of _Squeers_. HAYES FISHER
leaning over clutched LOGAN by the back of the neck and thrust him
forth. ASHMEAD-BARTLETT, seeing opportunity of winning his knightly
spurs, firmly fixed his eyeglass, and felt for LOGAN in the front.

That the table and front Opposition Bench were not "steepled" in
LOGAN'S gore, as were the forms and benches at Dotheboy's Hall in
that of _Fanny Squeers's_ Pa, was due to diversion raised from another
quarter. Irish members below Gangway, seeing the scrimmage, and noting
CARSON had something to do with it, moved down in body with wild
"whirroo!" SAUNDERSON, providentially in his place, sprang up and
advanced to intercept the rolling flood. CREAN being on crest of
advancing wave found his face, by what CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN would
describe as a "regrettable accident." in contact with the Colonel's
fist. Moreover, it was the knuckly end, scarcely less hurtful than the
sharp edge of the sword which laid WALKER (of London) low. CREAN drew
back, but only _pour mieux reculer_, as they say in Cork. Whilst the
Colonel was standing in the attitude of pacific impartiality he later
described to the SPEAKER, CREAN dealt him an uncommonly nasty one on
the chops; the thud distinctly heard amid the Babel of cries in the
miniature Donnybrook below Gangway. Amid moving, struggling mass,
SAUNDERSON'S white waistcoat flashed to and fro like flag of truce,
to which, alas! there was no response. What became of LOGAN in this
crisis not quite clear. Fancy I saw WALROND extricating him from the
embraces of FANNY-SQUEERS-ASHMEAD-BARTLETT. Mr. G. looked on with
troubled face from Treasury Bench. BARTLEY standing up on edge of
scrimmage, pointed accusatory forefinger at him, was saying something,
probably opprobrious but at the moment inaudible.

"So like BARTLEY to go to root of matter," said GEORGE RUSSELL, who
surveyed scene from sanctuary of Speaker's chair. "Others might
accuse JOSEPH of being responsible for disturbance by likening his
old colleague and chief to iniquitous King HEROD at the epoch when
the worms were waiting to make an end of him. VICARY GIBBS and good
Conservatives generally are sure it was TAY PAY'S retort of 'JUDAS!
JUDAS!' that dropped the fat into the fire. Only BARTLEY has cool
judgment and presence of mind to point the moral of the moving scene.
A striking figure in the inextricable _mêlée._ When his statue is
added to that of great Parliamentarians in St. Stephen's Hall, the
sculptor should seize this attitude."

_Business done._--Home-Rule Bill through Committee; but first a real
taste of Donnybrook.

[Illustration: AFTER THE FALL OF THE CURTAIN. EXPLANATIONS.]

_Friday Night._--House a little languid after excitement of last
night. Attendance small; subject at morning sitting, Scotch Education;
at night, Agriculture. Dr. HUNTER thinks it would be nice to have
Committee of Inquiry into origin and progress of last night's row.
Nobody else takes that view; general impression is, we'd better forget
it as soon as possible.

_Business done._--TREVELYAN explains Scotch Education Vote.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE ANGEL (IN THE HOUSE)'S ADVOCATE.--Mr. WOODALL.

       *       *       *       *       *



Transcriber's Note:

Page 49: 'gáteau' corrected to gâteau'.
The paper was much applauded, and GATTO _prends le gâteau_.

Page 51: "it's" corrected to "its". (... so that its impulse Be
humorous not malevolent;)

Page 57: 'responsility' corrected to 'responsibility' (Would you ever
act upon your own responsibility?)





*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 105,  August  5th 1893" ***

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