Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 103, July 30, 1892 by Various
V >>
Various >> Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 103, July 30, 1892
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 103.
July 30, 1892.
IAGO IN BIRMINGHAM.
(_SHAKSPEARE ONCE MORE ON THE SITUATION._)
[Illustration]
_Iago_ MR. J-S-PH CH-MB-RL-N.
_Roderigo_ MR. J-SSE C-LL-NS.
_Roderigo._ Thou told'st me thou did'st hold him in thy hate.
_Iago._ Despise me, if I did not. The great ones of the City,
In personal suit to make me his Lieutenant,
Off-capped to him:--and, by the faith of man,
I know my price--I am worth no worse a place;
But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
Evades them with a bombast circumstance,
Horribly stuffed with epithets of war;
And, in conclusion,
Nonsuits my meditators; for, "Certes," says he,
"I have already chose my officer." And who was he?
Forsooth, a great Arithmetician.
* * * * *
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows
More than a spinster; unless the bookish theorick,
Wherein the toged Consul can propose
As masterly as he; mere prattle, without practice,
Is all his soldiership.
_But, Sir, he had the Election!_
* * * * *
A RESULT OF BEING HOSPITABLE.
SCENE--_Small, but Fashionable Club in West-End._
_Algy._ Waiter! bring me a brandy-and-soda. Don't feel up to the
average to-day.
_Hughie._ Late last night?
_Algy._ Yes. Went to Mrs. CRAMMERLY's Dance, Prince's Gate. Goodness
knows _why_ I went! I don't think they'll get me there again in a
hurry.
_Charlie_ (_waking up from arm-chair_). Were _you_ a victim too? I
didn't see you there!
_Algy._ No. Because I probably left before you arrived. I had had
enough of it in an hour, and came on here to supper; not before I
had nearly poisoned myself with a concoction that old CRAMMERLY was
asserting loudly, was an "'80 wine."
_Charlie_ (_laughing_). Ah! my dear friend, _I_ had been there before,
and knew the ropes. Took pretty good care to steer clear of the wine,
and got a chap to give me a whiskey-and-soda.
_Uninvited Member._ May I ask where was this charming Party?
_Algy._ At the CRAMMERLY's, Prince's Gate. Colonel CRAMMERLY.
_Uninvited M._ Colonel CRAMMERLY! Let's see, was he an old Crimea man?
_Algy._ _No_!--He _was_ Colonel in the Bounders Green Volunteers.
(_Roars of laughter._) You know "CRAMMERLY's Starch"--made a fortune
out of it.
_Charlie._ He must have spent a bit of it last night. They say the
flowers alone cost over a thousand pounds.
[Illustration]
_Enter_ Captain O.
_Captain O._ Talking about the Colonel CRAMMERLY Party, eh? (_To_
Uninvited M.) Were you there?
_Uninvited M._ (_very satirically_). Oh, dear no! I fear I'm not
smart enough to warrant my admittance into that _charmed_ and _select_
circle. [_Roars of laughter._
_Capt. O._ By Jove, you were well out of it. (_Addressing the Club
generally._) Did--you ever see such--eh?
_Charlie._ I want to know where the deuce they get their men from.
_Algy._ I fancy they discover them in the City.
_Jack._ _I_ never met--such shocking people before.
_Capt. O._ Too dreadful for words. I could only conclude they must
have been relations. [_Roars of laughter._
_Jack._ By the way, did you notice that there was a "bounder" who was
reversing?
_Uninvited M._ (_with great indignation_). No!!!
_Jack._ I tell you it's a positive fact--I know it to my cost; for I
was dancing with that youngest daughter, you know--the one who has the
fluffy fringe over her forehead--and the brute bounced against us,
and sent us flying. Never even apologised. If I could have got him
outside, I declare I would have given him a deuced good hiding. A man
like that ought to be kicked.
_Uninvited M._ Were the women any better?
_Algy._ Well, if you call Mrs. DASH any better!
_Uninvited M._ (_with tragic intensity_). You _don't_ mean to say
_she_ was there!
_Algy._ I _do_.
_Uninvited M._ But do you mean to say that Mrs. CRAMMERLY has heard--
_Jack._ No. She's deaf. [_Laughter._
_Uninvited M._ Well, you _do_ surprise me! (_After a long pause._) Any
other shining lights of London Society?
_Jack._ No--except that fearful Mrs. JUSSOPH and her daughters, who
honoured me with an invitation to their afternoon party at their
suburban residence at _West Kensington_. I don't know whether you
regard them as an illumination. [_Roars of laughter._
_Uninvited M._ (_triumphantly._) Good gracious! Then there was
positively no one there that one knows.
_Algy_ (_thinking he has said something original_). No one, that one
_wants_ to know.
_Uninvited M._ I suppose the whole thing was done for an
advertisement--?
_Algy._ Possibly. Anyhow, once bitten, twice shy. They won't get _me_
inside their stuccoed palace again.
_Chorus of Those who were at the Party._ Same here! [_Pause._
_Capt. O._ (_lighting cigar by candle_). By the way, JACK, did old
CRAM. ask you to Scotland for the 12th?
_Jack._ Yes.
_Capt. O._ So he did me. Shall you go?
_Jack._ It depends--I think so--if I don't get anything better. I'm
told it's a wonderful shoot. They pulled down over a thousand birds
the first day, last year.
_Capt. O._ Does old CRAMMERLY shoot?
_Jack._ Oh dear no! He's as blind as a bat. He only rents it for his
friends.
_Capt. O._ (_greatly relieved_). That's good news, for he's a terrible
bore. He'd be a shocking nuisance on the Moors. I must say, I can't
stand _him_ at any price.
_Jack._ No, nor any of the family, for the matter of that. Well, ta,
ta! Perhaps we shall meet there. I'm off to the Empire, to join some
friends who've got a box.
[_Exit to enjoy further hospitality._
* * * * *
"PERFIDIOUS ALBION" AGAIN.--Lieutenant MIZON, with his grievances
against the British Niger Company, was _feted_ last week in Paris.
To inform Frenchmen that the British Company in question is not so
_niger_ as it has been painted would be useless at the present moment,
when Frenchmen are still loud in their applause of the speech made by
the Prefect of the Seine in such a _Mizon-scene_. [N.B.--_Jeu de mot_
forwarded by our own "Prefect of the In-Seine."]
* * * * *
FROM NEWCASTLE.--Mr. HAMOND, M.P. for Newcastle, charged Mr. JOHN
MORLEY with having made a certain statement. Mr. MORLEY denied it, and
asked Mr. HAMOND to substantiate the charge. Mr. HAMOND could not do
this, nor did he apologise. Is this the "_'Amond honorable_"?
* * * * *
[Illustration: SIR CARLOS EUAN-SMITHEZ; OR, THE INSULTING SULTAN AND
THE HIGH-TONED CHRISTIAN KNIGHT.
_A MODERN MOORISH BALLAD, AFTER THE FASHION OF BON GAULTIER._]
Brave Sir CARLOS EUAN-SMITHEZ! basely have they borne thee down;
Thousands, thirty, would they tip thee as a churl they'd tip a
crown?
Thou at home hadst shown that Sultan with emphatic toe the door;
In Morocco thou didst coolly turn thy back upon the Moor.
Long in fiery Fez he lingered, subtle SMITHEZ, being bound
To contract Commercial Treaty with the minions of MAHOUND.
Full eight weeks' negociations smoothed that Treaty's parlous way;
On the fifth July the Sultan swore it should be signed next day.
But the false Frank's furtive whisper at the Sultan's ear was heard.
(When the Frank may foil the Saxon won't he do so? Like a bird!)
And the treacherous Moorish Monarch, to his people's interest blind,
Sold the sham he dubbed his honour, changed the thing he deemed
his mind.
"Christian Knight," began the Monarch ("knight" was diplomat for
"dog"),
"There is something in your Treaty, that I relish--like roast hog.
Know Morocco is no home for Factories and Colossal Stores;
And the omnipresent Bagman is a bugbear to my Moors!
"All my Cadis, all my ladies, wish at--Hades Western Trade.
You must make large alterations in the Treaty we've half made;
Shape it not in Christian interests, Christian Knight, but in
MAHOUND's,
And--incline thine ear!--I'll give thee, Christian, Thirty
Thousand Pounds!!!"
Enter black slave bearing Treasure! Ranged bags of glittering gold!
Then upspake brave EUAN-SMITHEZ. "Hold, base Sultan; minion, hold!
Dost thou think to bribe and buy a Christian Knight? A Paynim plan!
If _I_ take it, thou mayst sell me to a Moorish dog's-meat man!"
Then his steed obeyed his master, and he whinnied loud and free,
Turned his back upon the tempter, caracoled with coltish glee;
Struck out with his heels behind him, smote that slave upon the
nose,
Kicked the bags until the bullion in a Danae shower arose.
Never DON FERNANDO's charger, _Bavieca_, gave such spring,
In the sawdust-sprinkled circus of AL-WIDDICOMB, the King!
Never did DON GOMERSALEZ fill the Moslem with more fear,
When he smote him o'er the mazzard with his streak-o'-lightning
spear!
And the scattered gold flew widely, urged by that prodigious kick,
Smote the Frank behind the throne, although he dodged amazing quick;
Spattered that insulting Sultan, like a splash of London mud,
Blackening his dexter eye, and from his "boko" drawing blood.
Then Sir CARLOS EUAN-SMITHEZ gave that Moorish Sultan beans,
Holding it foul scorn--as did the pluckiest of Christian Queens--
a Christian Knight should take an insult from a turban'd Moor,
Without landing him a hot 'un, without giving him what-for!
Speed thee, speed thee, noble charger! Speed thee faster than the
wind!
Stout Sir CARLOS EUAN-SMITHEZ leaves that Moorish Fez behind;
Shakes its sand from off his shoes, and, having wiped the Sultan's
eye,
Turns his back, and takes his hook, without e'en wishing him
"Good-bye!"
* * * * *
[Illustration: PARLIAMENTARY PRIVILEGE.
_Wife of the Late Member for Tooting._ "ARCHIBALD, WHY WERE YOU SO
GRUMPY AT THE BIGGE BOOTHBYS' TO-NIGHT?"
_L.M. for T._ "SUCH PEOPLE, SUCH A DINNER, FOR A MAN WHO HAS JUST LOST
HIS SEAT!"
_Wife._ "I'M SURE PARLIAMENT DIDN'T DO ANYTHING FOR YOU!"
_L.M. for T._ "AT LEAST IT SPARED ME THIS SORT OF THING HAPPENING SIX
TIMES A WEEK!"]
* * * * *
OPERATIC NOTES.
_Last Nights of the Season._--_Monday._--"By General Desire," the
Second and Third Acts of DE LARA-Boom-de-ay's Opera, called _La Luce
dell' Asia_, followed by _Cavalleria Rusticana_. Was "by general
desire" applied to the entire programme, or only to its first part?
Well, we may take for granted that everyone wanted to hear and see
again--but especially to hear--the _Cavalleria_. So the "special
desire" must apply to _La Luce_ solely and only. If so, then from this
wording we gather that the general and uncontrollable desire to hear
the Second and Third Acts of DE LA-RA-Boom's Opera did not extend to
its Prologue, First Act, Fourth Act (if any), and Epilogue. But is
it complimentary to a Composer to express a general wish to hear only
certain portions of his work, implying thereby that the generally
un-expressed desire is rather against than for re-hearing the other
portions? All the same Sir COVENT GARDENIUS exercises a _sound_
discretion in thus dealing with this particular Opera.
_Tuesday._--BEMBERG's New Opera, _Elaine_.
_Chorus._--Why was _Elaine_
Given again?
O DRURIOLAN-
US, please explain!
And he did so, by saying in the programme "[fist] In consequence of
its Great Success and by general desire." Ha! ha! look at the hand,
with index-finger outstretched! By this sign, Sir DRURIOLANUS would
have us to understand that "this Opera was not one which ever went
_without a hand_." Moreover, Sir ORACLE tells us of its "Great
Success;" note the capitals, and note also, the expression itself,
which was not found in the announcement of the repetition of the
Second and Third Acts of the Light Asian Opera on Monday. Isn't
this an artful way of pitting Admirable BEMBERG against our own
accomplished DE-LARA-Boom? "We" were not there either Monday or
Tuesday, which, as far as the inimitable _intermezzo_ of the "Rustic
Chivalry" goes, was distinctly "our" loss. But they were going to do
without us, and they did so; but whether ill or well, this deponent,
meaning "We," knoweth not; and so, we're like Brer Rabbit, who lay low
and said nothin'. Brer Wolf sezzee were kinder sorry he was unable to
go Satterday arternoon for to hear Brer Fox's new Opera, _Nydia, the
Blind Girl_.
_Friday._--_Don Giovanni._--Madame DOTTI, in taking the _role_
of _Donna Anna_, "took the cake." Not going "a bit dotty," but in
excellent form.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
BE-LITTLER-ING MR. GLADSTONE'S MAJORITY.--Not that the G.O.M. is
"coming of age in the olden times,"--as somebody's picture has
it,--but that he is coming in with a mixed Majority of atoms difficult
to be assimilated. This much exercises the wigorous brain of Mr.
R.D.M. LITTLER, Q.C. writing to the _Times_. Of course R.D.M. LITTLER,
Q.C.--which initials, being interpreted, may mean, "Railway Directors'
Man"--is the Conservativest of Conservatives--"but that's another
Tory," as one may say, adapting RUDYARD KIPLING's phrase,--and,
difficult as the G.O.M. may find it to get on with the aid of a Little
Majority, he couldn't get on any better with the aid of a Littler.
* * * * *
NOTE.--The Guide to Wild West Kensington should announce the objects
of interest in this Buffalo Bill Show, not as "classified," but
"Codyfied."
* * * * *
[Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED OTHERWISE.
_Host._ "TAKE A LITTLE WHISKEY BEFORE YOU GO, JONES!"
_Jones_ (_after helping himself_). "THANKS! MAY I POUR YOU OUT SOME?"
_Host._ "PLEASE--NOT TOO MUCH--JUST ABOUT HALF WHAT YOU'VE GIVEN
YOURSELF!"]
* * * * *
THE TRAVELLER.
(_MODERN VERSION BY A GRATEFUL COOK'S TOURIST._)
[Mr. THOMAS COOK, originator of the great "Personally
Conducted" Tourist and Excursionist System, died on Monday the
18th July, aged 84 years.]
"Remote, unfriended, melancholy slow,
Or by the lazy Scheldt, or wandering Po?"
Nay, gentle GOLDSMITH, it is thus no more,
None now need fear "the rude Carinthian boor,"
The bandit Greek, the Swiss of avid grin,
Or e'en the predatory Bedouin.
Where'er we roam, whatever realms to see,
Our thoughts, great Agent, must revert to thee.
From Parthenon or Pyramid, we look
In travelled ease, and bless the name of COOK!
Eternal blessings crown the wanderer's friend!
At Ludgate Hill may all the world attend.
Blest be that spot where the great world instructor
Assumed the _role_ of Personal Conductor!
Blest be those "parties," with safe-conduct crowned,
Who do in marshalled hosts the Regular Round;
Gregarious gaze at Pyramid or Dome,
The heights of Athens, or the walls of Rome,
Then like flock-folded sheep, are shepherded safe home.
"Let observation, with extensive view,
Survey mankind from China to Peru."
By all means, yes, or even further fare,
And Afric's forest huge and poisonous Pigmies dare.
But, to avoid the lonely traveller's pain,
From Ludgate Circus drag the well-linked chain;
As Amurath to Amurath succeeds,
So COOK to COOK! THOMAS's grandiose deeds
What Tourist may forget? The great one's gone,
But his vast enterprise shall still march on.
What THOMAS started, is pursued by JOHN.
Peace to the dust of the Great Pioneer,
"Great COOK is dead, long live Great COOK!" we cheer.
* * * * *
DARK DOINGS.--Mrs. MARTHA RICKS, the emancipated black slave, who came
all the way from Liberia to pay Her Gracious MAJESTY a morning call,
may be now known as "The QUEEN's Black Woman," or as a companion
silhouette to "SALISBURY's Black Man." Of course she will go back
laden with valuable presents, quite a wealthy old lady, or "_Ricks
Pecuniarum_."
* * * * *
THE DUFFER IN POLITICS.
My country neighbours at Mount Duffer are not literary. So very remote
from this condition are they, that they regard men of letters as
"awful men," in the Shakspearian sense of the word. Consequently,
since those papers began to appear, sometimes, in the pages of _Mr.
Punch_, I have risen in the general esteem. Even JOHN DUC MACNAB has
been heard to admit, that though the MAC DUFFER is "nae gude ava' with
the rod or the rifle, he's a fell ane with the pen in his hand. Nae
man kens what he means, he's that deep." In consequence of the spread
of this flattering belief, I have been approached by various local
Parties, to sound my fathomless depths as a possible Candidate.
[Illustration]
First came a deputation of Jacobites. They were all ladies, of
different ages, young and old; all wore ornaments in which the locks
of Queen MARY, CHARLES THE FIRST, Prince CHARLIE, and other Saints and
Martyrs, were conspicuously displayed. Would I stand as a Jacobite?
they asked, and generally in the interests of Romance and Royalism. I
said that I would be delighted; but inquired as to whether we had not
better wait for Female Suffrage. That seemed our best chance, I said.
They replied, that FLORA MACDONALD had no vote, and what was good
enough for her was good enough for them. I then hinted that it would
be well to know for which King, or Queen, I was to unfurl the banner
at Glenfinnon. I also suggested that the modern Crofters did not seem
likely to rally round us. The first question provoked a split, or
rather several splits in our Party. It appeared that some five or
six Pretenders of both sexes, and of intricate genealogies, had their
advocates. An unpleasant scene followed, and things were said which
could never be forgiven. The deputation, which had been expected
to stay to luncheon, retired in tears, exclaiming for a variety of
monarchs all "over the water."
The local Gladstonians came next. I had never declared myself, they
said. Was I for Home Rule? I said we must first review Mr. GLADSTONE's
numerous writings about HOMER, and then come to Home Rule. "HOMER
stops the way!" Were Mr. GLADSTONES Homeric theories compatible with
a rational frame of mind? Here I felt very strong, and animated with
a keen desire to impart information. The deputation said all this
was ancient history. As to Home Rule itself, they said it really
did not matter. What they wanted was, free poaching, free private
whiskey-stills, free land, and a large head of game, to be kept up by
the proprietor, for the benefit of the glen, as in old times. I said
that these seemed to me to be Utopian demands. If you all fish, and
shoot, and drown the keepers in the linn, I urged, there will soon be
no game left for any of you. No Game-laws, I observed, and you will
obviously have no poaching. There will be nothing to poach, and no
fun in doing it. They said that they would pay keepers to hold the
Southern bodies off, out of the rates, and the rates would be paid by
the Laird--meaning me. I said I knew that several Lairds were standing
on this platform, but that, personally, if my land and rents were to
be taken away, I did not see how the rates were to be got out of my
empty sporran. This was a new idea to them, but I cheered them up
by saying I was in favour of Compulsory Access to Mountains, with
no Personal Option in the matter. This was what the people needed, I
said--they needed to be made to climb mountains, beginning with Box
Hill. On Bank Holidays, I remarked, they never go to the top. They
stay where the beer is. I would have a staff of Inspectors, to see
that they went. The general limbs and lungs would be greatly improved,
and the sale of whiskey, from private stills, would be increased.
This unlucky remark divided my Party. The Free Kirk Minister wore a
blue ribbon, and was a Temperance-at-any-price politician. Two of "The
Men," however,--a kind of inspired Highland prophets--had a still of
their own, and they and the Minister nearly came to blows. The Party
then withdrew, giving three cheers for Mr. GLADSTONE, but not pledging
themselves to vote for me.
The Eight Hours' people were at me next. I said I saw that the Bill
would provide employment for a number of people, but I added, that I
did not see who was to pay the wages, nor who was to buy the goods.
For, I remarked, you certainly cannot compete with foreign countries
at this rate, and at home the Classes will be competing with _you_,
being obliged to have recourse to manual labour. They said that was
just what they wanted, everybody to labour with his hands. I answered
that many of the Classes, a poor lot at best (_cheers_), would come
on the Parish. Who was to pay the rates when everybody was working,
and nobody was buying what was made? If there were no markets, where
were you to sell your produce? They said they would live on the land.
I answered that the land would not support the population: you would
need to import bread-stuffs, with what were you going to pay for them?
I added that my heart was with them, but that they could only attain
their ends by massacring or starving three-fourths of the population,
and who knew how he himself might fare, with a three-to-one chance
against his survival? Suppose it did not come to that, I urged,
suppose the Bill gave all the world employment; suppose that, somehow,
it also paid their wages, or supported them, in a very short time you
would need a Four Hours' Bill (_cheers_), a Two Hours' Bill, a One
Hour's Bill, of course with no fall in wages. The constitution of
things would not run to it.
They said that I had clearly not fought out the economic aspect of
the question. I said that was how my hair was blanched, with trying to
fight it out, but that, somehow, it always baffled me. I added remarks
about squaring the circle, but they said it was a good deal easier to
square Mr. GLADSTONE. The friends of Total Prohibition of Vaccination
and of Beer were waiting, also a deputation, who wanted subscriptions
for a SHELLEY Memorial, Russian Jews, Maxim guns for Missionaries,
and other benevolent objects. I declined to see _them_, however, and
was left to solitude, and to the reflection that I am unfitted for
the sphere of active politics. In this belief the neighbours are now
pretty generally agreed, which, as I have no keen ambition to shine in
Parliament, is a very fortunate circumstance.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A VICTORY OF THE POLLS.
MENTAL COLLAPSE OF AN ELECTION EDITOR AFTER COMPILING STATISTICS DAY
AND NIGHT FOR THE LAST THREE WEEKS!]
* * * * *
LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.
_Mount Street, Grosvenor Square._
DEAR MR. PUNCH,
The Race for the Eclipse Stakes at Sandown was productive of
tremendous excitement, and everybody turned pale as the two gallant
horses came up the straight, locked together, but the key to
the situation--Parliamentary phrase, due to the prevalence of
Elections--was held by the champion _Orme_, who managed to get home,
"all out" by a neck!--at least, Lord ARTHUR said he was "_all out_,"
though how he could be "_home_" at the same time I don't quite
understand--but he may have been alluding to the backers of _Orvieto_.
I was told that _St. Damien_ "made up a lot of ground at the finish;"
but I can't say I noticed it myself, as the course looked to me
exactly as it did before the race! Dear me! how pleased my friends
the Duke and Duchess of WESTMINSTER did look! and with good reason,
too--it was a wonderful task for _Orme_ to accomplish, with only six
weeks' training!--it must have been a _special_ train all the time;
in fact, the one he was brought to Sandown in, I suppose.
Being unable to go to Leicester, I took advantage of a military
escort, offered me by--(no--let the gallant officer's name remain a
secret--he little thought he was escorting a Press-lady)--to pay a
visit to the New Wimbledon--and being nothing if not loyal, I chose
the day when the shooting for the "Queen's" commenced. My escort
informed me with an inane smile, that the Camp had experienced "Bisley
weather;" the feebleness of which joke so annoyed me, that I am half
inclined to put his name in the pillory of public print--(what a
glorious expression for our own Midlothian Mouther)--but I refrain,
for reasons connected with Lord ARTHUR.
I must say that I think Bisley has a more business-like look than
Wimbledon ever had, though perhaps this is scarcely to the taste of
the average feminine visitor, who used to enjoy pic-nicing to the
accompaniment of whizzing bullets, and does not appreciate the latter
without the former. The shooting was very uncertain in the first
stage of the Queen's, as the wind was in a variable mood--(is the wind
_feminine_, I wonder?)--going sometimes at eighteen and sometimes
at thirty miles an hour, which was disconcerting and inconsiderate
behaviour (it _must_ be feminine!)--calculated to annoy any
right-minded Volunteer! Indeed, one notoriously good shot, Private
CHICKEN, although a good _plucked_ one--having made six misses in ten
shots--declined to be _roasted_ by his friends, and retired into his
_casserole_--which is French for tent, I believe--while several other
marksmen (why marksmen?) found themselves carefully placing their
bullets on other people's targets.