Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 103, October 8, 1892 by Various
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Various >> Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 103, October 8, 1892
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 103.
October 10, 1892.
AT A HYPNOTIC SEANCE.
SCENE--_A Public Hall in a provincial town. The Hypnotist--a
tall, graceful, and handsome young man, in well-fitting
evening clothes--has already succeeded in putting most of
his subjects to sleep, and is going round and inspecting them
critically, as they droop limply on a semicircle of chairs,
in a variety of unpicturesque attitudes. The only Lady on
the platform is evidently as yet in full possession of her
senses._
_First Female Spectator_ (_to Second_). MARIA MANGLES do take a time
sending off, don't she?
_Second F.S._ (_also a friend of Miss MANGLES_). Yes, that she do--it
gives her such a silly look, sitting there, the on'y one with her
senses about her!
_First F.S._ It's all affectation--she could shut her eyes fast enough
if she _liked_!
_Second F.S._ The 'Ipnotiser's coming round to her now--she'll _have_
to go off now. (_With a not unpleasurable anticipation_.) I expect
he'll make her do all manner o' ridic'lous things!
_First F.S._ Well, it will be a lesson, to her against making' herself
so conspicuous another time. I shan't pity her.
_The Hyp._ (_after a brief colloquy with Miss MANGLES_). I see I am
not likely to succeed with this Lady; so, with many thanks to her on
behalf of myself and the audience for coming forward, I will detain
her no longer.
[Illustration: "I do. Lovely creature!"]
[_Applause, amidst which Miss M. descends to her seat in the
body of the hall, with a smile of conscious triumph._
_First F.S._ (_disappointed_). I don't see what she's done to clap
their hands about, myself!
_Second F.S._ Nor I neither--taking up his time all for
nothing--depend upon it she wouldn't have gone up if he hadn't been so
nice-looking!
_First F.S._ I wouldn't like to think _that_ of her myself; but,
anyhow, she didn't get much by it, did she? He soon sent _her_
packing!
_Male Spectator_ (_to a Woman in front of him_). Evening, Mrs.
MIDGELLY--I see they've got your good man up on the platform.
_Mrs. M._ He _will_ go, Mr. BUDKIN! He's gone up every night the
'Ipnotiser's been here, and says he feels it's going to do him good.
So this evening I said I'd come in too, and judge for myself. What
good he expects to get, laying there like a damp dishclout, _I_ don't
know!
[_Meanwhile the Hypnotist has borrowed a silver-handled
umbrella from the audience, and thrust it before the faces of
one or two loutish-looking youths, who immediately begin to
squint horribly and follow the silver-top with their noses,
till they knock their heads together._
_Mr. Budkin_ (_to Mrs. MIDGELLY_). He's going to give your husband a
turn of it now.
[_The umbrella-handle is applied to Mr. M., a feeble-looking
little man with a sandy top-knot; he grovels after the
silver-top when it is depressed, and makes futile attempts to
clamber up the umbrella after it when it is held aloft._
_Mrs. M._ (_severely_). I haven't patience to look at him. A _Kitten_
'ud have had more sense!
_The Hyp._ (_calling up one of the heavy youths_). Can you whistle,
Sir? Yes? Then whistle something. (_The Youth whistles a popular air
in a lugubrious tone._) Now you _can't_ whistle--try. (_The Youth
tries--and produces nothing but a close imitation of an air-cushion
that is being unscrewed._) Now, if I were not to wake him up, this
young gentleman's friends would never enjoy the benefit of his whistle
again!
_Voice from a Back Row_. _Don't_ wake him, Guv'nor, we can _bear_ it!
_Hyp._ (_after restoring the lost talent, and calling up another
Youth, somewhat smartly attired_). Now, Sir, what do you drink?
_The Youth_ (_with a sleepy candour_). Beer when I can get 'old of it.
_A Friend of his in Audience_. JIM's 'aving a lark with him--he said
as 'ow he meant to kid him like--_he_ ain't 'ipnotised, bless yer!
_Hyp._ But you like water, too, don't you? (_JIM admits this--in
moderation._) Try this. (_He gives him a tumbler of water._) Is that
good water?
_Jim_ (_smacking his lips_). That's good water enough, Sir.
_Hyp._ It's bad water--taste it again.
[_JIM tastes, and ejects it with every symptom of extreme
disapproval._
_Jim's Friend_. Try him with a drop o' Scotch in it--_'e'll_ get it
down!
_Hyp._ (_to JIM_). There is _no_ water in that glass--it's full of
sovereigns, don't you see? (_JIM agrees that this is so, and testifies
to his conviction by promptly emptying the contents of the glass into
his trousers' pocket_) What have you got in your pocket?
_Jim_ (_chuckling with satisfaction_). Quids--golden sovereigns!
_Hyp._ Wake up! _Now_ what do you find in your pocket--any sovereigns?
_Jim_ (_surprised_). Sovereigns? No, Sir! (_After putting his hand
in his pocket, bringing it out dripping, and dolefully regarding the
stream of water issuing from his leg_.) More like water, Sir.
[_He makes dismal efforts to dry himself, amidst roars of
laughter._
_His Friend_. Old JIM didn't come best out o' that!
_Hyp._ (_to JIM_). You don't feel comfortable? (_Emphatic assent from_
JIM.) Yes, you do, you feel no discomfort whatever.
[_JIM resumes his seat with a satisfied expression._
_An Open-minded Spect._ Mind yer, if this yere 'Ipnotism can prevent
water from being wet, there must be _something_ in it!
_Hyp._ I will now give you an illustration of the manner in which,
by hypnotic influence, a subject can_ be affected with an entirely
imaginary pain. Take this gentleman. (_Indicating the unfortunate
Mr. MIDGELLY, who is slumbering peacefully._) Now, what pain shall we
give him?
_A Voice_. Stomach-ache!
[_This suggestion, however, is so coyly advanced that it
fortunately escapes notice._
_Hyp._ Tooth-ache? Very good--we will give him tooth-ache.
[_The Audience receive this with enthusiasm, which increases
to rapturous delight when Mr. MIDGELLY's cheek begins to
twitch violently, and he nurses his jaw in acute agony; the
tooth-ache is then transferred to another victim, who writhes
in an even more entertaining manner, until the unhappy couple
are finally relieved from torment._
_A Spect._ Well, it's better nor any play, this is--but he ought to
ha' passed the toothache round the lot of 'em, just for the fun o' the
thing!
_Mrs. Midgelly_. I should ha' thought there was toothache enough
without coming here to get more of it, but so long as MIDGELLY's
enjoyin' himself, _I_ shan't interfere!
[_The Hypnot. has impressed his subjects with the idea that
there is an Angel at the other end of the hall, and they are
variously affected by the celestial apparition, some gazing
with a rapt grin, while others invoke her stiffly, or hail her
like a cab. Mr. MIDGELLY alone exhibits no interest._
_Mr. Budkin_ (_to Mrs. M._). Your 'usband don't seem to be putting
himself out, Angel or no Angel.
_Mrs. M._ (_complacently_). He knows too well what's due to _me_, Mr.
BUDKIN. _I'm_ Angel enough for him!
_Hyp._ I shall now persuade this Gentleman that there is a beautiful
young lady in green at the door of this hall. (_To Mr. M._) Do you see
her, Sir?
_Mr. M._ (_rising with alacrity_). I do. Lovely creature!
[_He suddenly snatches up a decanter of water, and invites
his invisible charmer, in passionate pantomime, to come up and
share it with him--to the infinite delight of the Audience,
and disgust of his Wife._
AFTER THE PERFORMANCE.
_Mr. Midgelly_ (_as he rejoins his Wife_). I felt the influence more
strongly to-night than what I have yet; and the Professor says, if I
only keep on coming up every night while he's here, I shall soon be
completely susceptible to--Why, whatever's the matter, my dear?
_Mrs. M._ Matter! You're quite susceptible enough as it is; and, now
I know how you can go on, you don't catch me letting _you_ get
'ipnotised again. You and your young lady in green indeed!
_Mr. M._ (_utterly mystified_). Me and my--I don't know what you're
alluding to. It's the first _I've_ heard of it!
_Mrs. M._ (_grimly_). Well, it won't be the last by a long way. Oh,
the insight I've had into your character this evening, MIDGELLY!
[_Mr. M. is taken home, to realise that Hypnotism is not
altogether without its dangers._
* * * * *
[Illustration: THUNDERS FROM SNOWDON.
"Nothing could have served my purpose better, than to have
drawn this illuminating flash out of the thunders," &c.,
&c.--_Vide Duke of Argyll's Letter to The Times, and his
Letter to Somebody who had drawn his Grace's attention to Mr.
Gladstone's Snowdon Speech._
* * * * *
MEM. FROM WHITBREADFORDSHIRE.--Sir BLUNDELL MAPLE is reported to
have said, "I'll give you a good tip. Back _Duke_--and my horses for
the Cambridgeshire." New Carpet Knight not successful as a sporting
tipster, seeing that Colonel DUKE, though he fought well, was beaten.
Perhaps Sir BLUNDELL meant _the Duke_, who races every night at Drury
Lane. That's a very good tip, as safe as houses--Drury Lane houses, of
course.
* * * * *
A CITY PARADOX.
Our City Aldermanic lights
Who talk (and live) a trifle high,
In stern defence of civic rights
Profess themselves prepared to die.
And yet the Aldermanic crowd--
It's amply true, say what you will--
With open eyes have just allowed
The Mayoralty to come to KNILL!
* * * * *
"HABITUAL DRUNKARDS COMMITTEE."--An awful-looking heading to a
paragraph! What a picture the imagination may conjure up of a
Committee of Habitual Drunkards! There would be the Honble. TOM TOPER,
Lord SOTT, SAM SOKER, Marquis of MOPPS and BROOMS, Captain FUDDLE,
DICK SWIZZLER, R.N., FRANK FARGONE (of the _Daily Booze_), with TITE
ASA DRUMM in the Chair, or if not, under the table with the others.
* * * * *
CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS.
(_BY MR. PUNCH'S OWN GROUSE IN THE GUN-ROOM._)
Many manuals have been published for the edification of beginners in
the art of shooting. If that art can indeed be acquired by reading,
there is no reason why any youth, whose education has been properly
attended to, should not be perfectly proficient in it without having
fired a single shot. But, _Mr. Punch_ has noticed in all these volumes
a grave defect. In none of them is any instruction given which shall
enable a man to obtain a conversational as well as a merely shooting
success. Every pursuit has its proper conversational complement. The
Farmer must know how to speak of crops and the weather in picturesque
and inflammatory language; the Barrister must note, for use at the
dinner-table, the subtle jests of his colleagues, the perplexity
of stumbling witnesses, and the soul-stirring jokes of Judges;
the Clergyman must babble of Sunday-schools and Choir-practices.
Similarly, a Shooter must be able to speak of his sport and its varied
incidents. To be merely a good shot is nothing. Many dull men can
be that. The great thing, surely, is to be both a good shot and a
cheerful light-hearted companion, with a fund of anecdotes and a rich
store of allusions appropriate to every phase of shooting. _Mr. Punch_
ventures to hope that the hints he has here put together, may be of
value to all who propose to go out and "kill something" with a gun.
THE GUN.
No subject offers a greater variety of conversation than this. But,
of course, the occasion counts for a good deal. It would be foolish to
discharge it (metaphorically speaking) at the head of the first comer.
You must watch for your opportunity. For instance, guns ought not
to be talked about directly after breakfast, before a shot has been
fired. Better wait till after the shooting-lunch, when a fresh start
is being made, say for the High Covert half a mile away. You can then
begin after this fashion to your host:--"That's a nice gun of yours,
CHALMERS. I saw you doing rare work with it at the corner of the new
plantation this morning." CHALMERS is sure to be pleased. You not only
call attention to his skill, but you praise his gun, and a man's gun
is, as a rule, as sacred to him as his pipe, his political prejudices,
his taste in wine, or his wife's jewels. Therefore, CHALMERS is
pleased. He smiles in a deprecating way, and says, "Yes, it's not a
bad gun, one of a pair I bought last year."
"Would you mind letting me feel it?"
"Certainly not, my dear fellow here you are."
You then interchange guns, having, of course, assured one another that
they are not loaded. Having received CHALMERS's gun, you first appear
to weigh it critically. Then, with an air of great resolution, you
bring it to your shoulder two or three times in rapid succession, and
fire imaginary shots at a cloud, or a tuft of grass. You now hand
it back to CHALMERS, observing, "By Jove, old chap, it's beautifully
balanced! It comes up splendidly. Suits me better than my own."
CHALMERS, who will have been going through a similar pantomime with
your gun, will make some decently complimentary remark about it, and
each of you will think the other a devilish knowing and agreeable
fellow.
From this point you can diverge into a discussion of the latest
improvements, as, e.g., "Are ejectors really valuable?" This is sure
to bring out the man who has tried ejectors, and has given them up,
because last year, at one of the hottest corners he ever knew, when
the sky was simply black with pheasants, the ejectors of both his guns
got stuck. He will talk of this incident as another man might talk of
the loss of a friend or a fortune. Here you may say,--"By gad, what
frightful luck! What did you do?" He will then narrate his comminatory
interview with his gun-maker; others will burst in, and defend
ejectors, or praise their own gun-makers, and the ball, once set
rolling, will not be stopped until you take your places for the
first beat of the afternoon, just as MARKHAM is telling you that his
old Governor never shoots with anything but an old muzzle-loader by
MANTON, and makes deuced good practice with it too.
"Choke" is not a very good topic; it doesn't last long. After you have
asked your neighbour if his gun is choked, and told him that your left
barrel has a modified choke, the subject is pretty well exhausted.
"Cast-off." Not to be recommended. There is very little to be made of
it.
Something may be done with the price of guns. There's sure to be
someone who has done all his best and straightest shooting with a gun
that cost him only L15. Everybody else will say, "It's perfect rot
giving such high prices for guns. You only pay for the name. Mere
robbery." But there isn't one of them who would consent not to be
robbed.
It sometimes creates a pretty effect to call your gun "My old
fire-iron," or "my bundook," or "this old gas-pipe of mine."
"Bore." Never pun on this word. It is never done in really good
sporting society. But you can make a few remarks, here and there,
about the comparative merits of twelve-bore and sixteen-bore. Choose
a good opening for telling your story of the man who shot with a
fourteen-bore gun, ran short of cartridges on a big day, and was, of
course, unable to borrow from anyone else. Hence you can deduce the
superiority of twelve-bores, as being the more common size.
All these subjects, like all others connected with shooting, can be
resumed and continued after dinner, and in the smoking-room. Talk of
the staleness of smoke! It's nothing to the staleness of the stories
to which four self-respecting smoking-room walls have to listen in the
course of an evening.
(_To be continued._)
* * * * *
[Illustration: A PIS-ALLER.
"ARE THERE ANY NIGGERS ON THE BEACH THIS MORNING, MAMMIE?"
"NO, DEAR; IT'S SUNDAY MORNING."
"OH, THEN I MAY AS WELL GO TO CHURCH WITH YOU!"]
* * * * *
BY-AND-BY LAWS FOR TRAFALGAR SQUARE.
(_WHEN MEETINGS ARE HELD IN "TIMES OF POLITICAL OR SOCIAL CRISES_.")
1. Cabs, omnibuses, carriages, and pedestrians will be expected to
keep clear of the space occupied by the Demonstrators.
2. To prevent destruction of glass and removal of property from shop
windows, tradesmen will be expected to put up their shutters several
hours before the holding of the meeting.
3. No particular notice will be paid to the transference of property
from one leader of labour to another. If done by stealth, it will be
accepted as a proof of secret Socialism.
4. No objection will be raised to combats amongst the Demonstrators,
with the restriction that no Government property is injured.
5. As the maintaining of the road is a matter of contract,
Demonstrators wishing to emphasise their opinions, must bring their
own stones.
6. As a good deal of property is expected to change hands during the
various proceedings, an application with a description of lost goods,
and photograph of supposed thief, can be addressed to the Chief
Inspector of Police, Scotland Yard.
7. These regulations (which are tentative) will be in force until
after the next General Election, when a fresh series will be
published, to be followed by others as occasion may require.
* * * * *
A POOR ROAD TO LEARNING.
SCENE--_Interior of a School Board Office. Official discovered
hard at work, doing single-handed in London what is done by
nearly a thousand officials combined in "Bonnie Scotland."
Enter Female Applicant, with infant._
_Applicant_. Please, Sir, here's my boy. Can you take him?
_Official_. Certainly. Has he had any education?
_App._ Well, as he's rising five, not much.
_Off._ But does he know anything? For instance, has he learned any
English history?
_App._ Not that I know of.
_Off._ Has he dipped into geography?
_App._ Well, I don't think he has.
_Off._ Can he cipher at all?
_App._ Not very well.
_Off._ Does he know what two and two make?
_App._ Well, he has never said he does.
_Off._ Can he write?
_App._ Well, no, he doesn't write.
_Off._ But I suppose he can read? Come, he at least can read?
_App._ Well, no, Sir, I am afraid he's not much of a scholar. I don't
think he can read.
_Off._ Then he is absolutely ignorant--miserably ignorant.
_App._ Very likely, Sir,--you know best.
_Off._ Well, now, my good woman, I will tell you what we will do with
him. We will teach him to read, write, and cipher, and give him an
excellent education.
_App._ And you will take care of him, Sir?
_Off._ Of course we will take care of him; and as for his education,
we will--
_App._ Oh, Sir, so long as you looks after him, never you mind about
his education!
[_Exit infantless._
* * * * *
TO MAUD.
_A PENITENT ROUNDEL._
I called you MAUDE. I only meant to tease,
But somehow, ere I ended, came to laud
Your charms in my poor verses. So in these
I called you MAUDE.
"My name is _MAUD_."
And I am overawed,
Forgive the indiscretion if you please.
The spirit Truth, they tell me, is abroad,
And since she sojourns still across the seas,
I swear I knew the final _e_ a fraud--
So that you suffered from no lack of _e_'s
I called you MAUDE!
* * * * *
KNILL NISI BOIMUM.
[Illustration: Lord Mayor Elect Knill and the Livery Goose.]
The good common sense of the Common Councilman and Liverymen of the
City,--Liverymen not to be led astray by any false lights,--coupled
with their truly English love of fairplay, prevailed, and the City
Fathers on Goose Day were prevented from following in the goose-steps
of that Uncommon Councilman who, bearing the honoured names of BEAUFOY
(a fine old Norman-Baron title!) and of MOORE (shade of Sir THOMAS!),
made so extraordinary a display of bigotry and ignorance as, it is to
be hoped, is rare, and becoming rarer every day, among our worthy JOHN
GILPINS of credit and renown East of the Griffin.
But in spite of this nonsensical hot-gospelling rant, Alderman and
Sheriff STUART KNILL was elected Lord Mayor, while BEAUFOY MOORE
was, so to speak, no MOORE, and, in fact, very much against his will
and wish, was reduced to NIL. WILLY-KNILLY he had to cave in. _Mr.
Punch_ congratulates the Lord Mayor Elect, but still more does he
congratulate the City Fathers on rising above paltry sectarianism, so
utterly unworthy of time, place, and persons, and for standing up,
in true English fashion, for freedom of worship coupled with absolute
Liberty of Conscience.
* * * * *
THE PRIDE OF THE EMPIRE.
[Illustration: "A Warde with you."]
[Illustration: Stock Exchange Swell (Empire Period).]
At this moment there is really a very excellent extertainment at
the Empire Theatre of Varieties, something, or rather many things
of which the Management may, and should be proud. A capital troupe
of Bicyclists, a Spanish Dancer and singer--whose gestures to the
multitude are more intelligible than her language--a graceful,
serpentine dancer, and "a very peculiar American Comedian"--all these
are a part of the programme. But the best item in this liberal bill of
fare is _Round the Town_, a characteristic Ballet, in five _tableaux_.
The composers of this pleasing piece are Madame KATTI LANNER, and Mr.
GEORGE EDWARDES. As the lady is well known for her admirable dances,
it may be safely presumed that the gentleman is solely responsible for
the plot, or rather "the argument." It runs as follows:--"_Dr. Burch_,
newly arrived in London with his pupils, wishes to show them the
sights. What better to begin with than Covent Garden Market in the
early morning?" Quite so, the more especially as the lads must be very
backward boys. There are six of them, and the youngest seems about
thirty, and the oldest about double that age. The Doctor must have
rescued them from Epsom Race Course, and apparently is attempting to
give them an education fitting them to follow what seems to be his own
calling--the profession of an undertaker. These elderly pupils follow
their kind preceptor (for, although he is called _Burch_, there is
not the slightest suggestion of the rod about him, and, moreover, his
charges are really too elderly to receive chastisement) to the Royal
Exchange, the Thames Embankment, and, lastly, to the Empire. During
their travels, they meet _Mr. Rapless_, known as "the Oofless Swell,"
(a part amusingly played by Mr. W. WARDE), and _John Brough_, a
carpenter with a taste for ballet costumes and drink, the carpenter's
wife, and the carpenter's child. _Dr. Burch_, who is evidently
easy-going, but good-hearted, after flirting with a lady who has her
boots cleaned before the Royal Exchange, suddenly developes into a
philanthropist, not to say a divine. On the carpenter's wife and
child appearing on the Thames Embankment in the characters of would-be
suicides, the worthy pedagogue convinces them (to quote the programme)
"That they have no right to take away the lives which the Almighty has
placed in their hands." Mother and child are quickly convinced, and
the neat but drunken father (Signorina MALVINA CAVALAZZI) appearing
on the scene, the good man informs him that his wife and child are
dead, "driven to an untimely grave by his (the intemperate but natty
artisan's) desertion and cruelty." The effect of this inaccurate
statement is startling. To quote once more from the argument,
"incontinently the now penitent ruffian falls fainting to the ground."
But he is brought back to himself, his better self, by his child
whispering "Father!" The situation is full of pathos, even when
witnessed from the Stalls. Recovering his senses, the converted
carpenter promptly borrows money from the good old Doctor, and when
that estimable gentleman is about to enter the Empire Theatre of
Varieties (accompanied by his school), a little later he has the
"satisfaction of seeing his _protege Mortimer_ (the ex-ruffian),
returning contentedly from his work." This is the simple but pathetic
story that Mr. GEO. EDWARDES touchingly tells with the assistance of
a full _corps de ballet_, five _tableaux_, and last, but certainly not
least, the hints of Madame KATTI LANNER.
[Illustration: Jolly Tar A.B. "Hip, Hip, Hooray!"]
[Illustration: Dramatic Situation on the Embankment, as seen from
Empire Stalls.]
There are many remarkable persons in _Round the Town_. Notably
an effeminate but substantial stock-broker, who looks like a
stock-jobber's maiden-aunt in disguise. Another important personage is
a representative of the Navy, whose figure suggests as an appropriate
greeting, "Hip, hip, hip, hooray!" Both these characters are
well-played, and although subordinate parts, make their mark, or
rather, we should say, score heavily. Altogether; the ballet is
excellent both in dances and plot. The first is a testimony of the
good head of Madame KATTI LANNER, and the last of the equally good
heart of Mr. GEORGE EDWARDES. There is no doubt that _Round the Town_
will draw all London to see (in its realistic scenes) all London
drawn!