Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, July 2, 1892 by Various
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Various >> Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, July 2, 1892
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 102.
July 2, 1892.
OPERATIC NOTES.
[Illustration: Ancient Brass-Work, in memory of Wagner the Great
Worker in Brass.]
_Wednesday._--WAGNER. Vainly the Daughters of the River, representing
the floating capital of the Banks of the Rhine, cry "Woa! Woa!" The
orchestra, under the direction of Herr MAHLER, takes no notice of
them, but goes on Wagnerianly, inexorably. Thus swimmingly we reach
Walhall--where the fire-god _Loge_ has a _logement_ with very heavy
insurance. _Wotan_ and _Loge_ in search of the gold. Then we meet
the _Nibelungs_ and the _Nibelights_, all livers under a water-cure
system; and then--it's like a musical nightmare--_Alberich_ changes
himself into a toad and is towed off as a prisoner. _Fafner_ settles
_Fasolt_ by a drum-head Court Martial, so that _Fafner_ gets the
golden honey, and _Fasolt_ gets the whacks--and--please, Sir, I don't
know any more--but some of the music is running river-like and lovely,
more is puzzling, and much of it must remind Sir DRURIOLANUS of the
rum-tum-tiddy-iddy-iddy-um-bang-whack of a great Drury Pantomime.
House full; Duke and Duchess of EDINBURGH, with Princess MARIE
and Crown Prince of ROUMANIA, enjoying themselves Wagnerially and
Rou-manically.
_Saturday.--Le Prophete._ JOHN DE RESZKE not up to his usual form as
the Sporting Prophet; but his little Brother EDWARD, and Messieurs
MONTARIOL and CASTELMARY, first-rate as the three conspiring
undertakers. Madame DESCHAMPS-JEHIN, as _Fides_, very fine. "House,"
also, very fine, and large.
* * * * *
THE BONES OF JOSEPH.
[Illustration]
Dear _Mr. Punch_,--When writing to a Journal of light and leaders--or
misleaders--last Friday, I kept "a little bit up my sleeve," so to
speak, for the Brightest, Lightest, and Leadingest of all papers
yclept the one, Sir, that bears your honoured name. After quoting from
Mr. CHAMBERLAIN at Holloway (not _in_ Holloway) on June 17, 1885,
as a gentle reminder to Mr. GOSCHEN--_their_ "Mr. G."--I observed,
"Perhaps, however, there are reasons why the 'Egyptian Skeleton'
prefers to forget the speeches of Mr. CHAMBERLAIN in 1885." It struck
me that, having already an Egyptian Skeleton, we might have as its
companion a Brummagem Skeleton, which everyone can see through, and
this sketch I beg to submit to you, _pro bono publico_. Always, _Mr.
Punch_, your most obedient "subject" (artistically),
W.V. H-RC-RT.
* * * * *
THE FETE OF FLORA.
[Illustration: First Prize--Love among the Roses.]
Were it not that the salutation were infelicitous, we should have
said, "Hail, all hail!" to the _Fete_ at the Botanical Gardens,
Regent's Park, last Wednesday. Besides, they have always an Aquarius
of the name of WATERER on the premises, whose Rhododendrons are
magnificent. So we didn't say "All hail!" and there was not a single
drop, of rain, or in the attendance, to damage a charming show which
has so often been spoilt by the drop too much that has floored many a
_Fete_ of Flora. Nothing could have been prettier. Flowers of speech
are inadequate to describe the scene. "Simply lovely!" is the best
epitome of praise.
* * * * *
LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.
_The Look-out, Sheepsdoor, Kent_.
DEAR MR. PUNCH,
Ascot has been too much for me! What with the excitement of racing all
day, and bezique half the night--(another sign of the times; women no
longer "play for love," but "love to play!")--to say nothing of the
constant strain on one's nerves as to what the weather was going
to do to one's gowns, I have had a severe attack of overwork, with
complicating symptoms of my old enemy, idleness!--so that, on my
return to town, my Doctor--(he's a _dear_ man, and prescribes just
what I suggest)--insisted that I should at once run down to the
Seaside to recuperate. Hence my retirement to the little fishing
village of Sheepsdoor in Kent, "far from the gadding crowd;" a most
delightfully rural and little-known resort, where we all go about in
brown canvas-shoes--(russia-leather undreamt of!)--and wear out all
our old things, utterly regardless of whether we look "_en suite_"
or not. The only precaution _I_ take is to carry in my pocket a thick
veil, which I pop on if I see anybody with evidences of "style" about
them coming my way; fortunately, this has only happened once, when
I met a certain well-known "Merry Duchess" and her charming little
daughter, who both failed to penetrate my disguise!
I am sorry that my selected horse for the Windsor June Handicap did
not run--though the word of command was given, "_Macready_!"--he was
not told to be "present!"--being presumably short of a gallop or two,
and therefore lacking "fire!" This little series of jokes is proudly
dedicated to the _Military_, and _Civilians_ are "warned off!"--which
is another turf expression. The much-needed rain has come at last,
and the Heath should be in fine condition, which was more than its
namesake at Ascot was, and all for want of a little attention--I am
told that the far end was all in lumps, which caused the "_Lover_" to
come down in his race--though that was hardly a surprise, as we know
that "the course of true love never _did_ run smooth!"
Now--dear _Mr. Punch_, if you want a few hours' fresh air, command the
special train, which I am told, is kept in readiness for you at every
London Terminus, to transport you--(not for your _country's_ good,
but _your own_)--to Sheepsdoor, Kent, where you shall receive a
hearty welcome--Lord ARTHUR is not with me, but my French maid will
_chaperon_ us--_if necessary_.
Yours devotedly,
LADY GAY.
STUD PRODUCE SELECTION.
To a Circus in Lancashire, once I went,
To see a performing dog dance!
But, my money in vain I found I'd spent,
For I much prefer a "_Clog Dance_."
* * * * *
THE TWO SARAS OF THE SEASON.--SARA BERNHARDT and SARA SATE.
* * * * *
[Illustration: UNA AND THE BRITISH LION.
A CARTOON FROM A BIRMINGHAM COLLECTION.]
_Whereto a Brummagem Bard hath set these Spenserian Stanzas._
[Mr. CHAMBERLAIN, in his Election Address, explains how he
has co-operated with the Conservative Government in order to
maintain the Union between Great Britain and Ireland.]
The lyon would not leave her desolate,
But with her went along as a strong gard
Of her chast person, and a faithfull mate
Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard;
And over her he kept both watch and ward,
With the assistance of two valiant knightes,
Prince ARTHURE, and the Red Crosse Paladin,
A pair of brotherlie and doughtie wightes,
Though erst had they indulged in mutual flouts and spites.
For loe! a divelish dragon didde infest
That region, and fair UNA strove to slay.
Her to protect from that prodigious pest,
The Red Crosse Knight--who lived out Midland way--
Didde, with Prince ARTHURE, travel day by day,
And prodded up that lyon as they strode,
With their speare pointes, as though in jovial play,
To holde fair UNA, who her safety owed,
Unto the puissant beaste whereon she proudlie rode.
Anon they heard a roaring hideous sound
That all the ayre with terror filled wyde,
And seemed uneath to shake the stedfast ground;
Eftsoones that dreadful dragon they espyde,
Where stretcht he lay upon the sunny side
Of a great hill, himself like a great hill:
But, all so soone as he from far descryde
Those glistering knights banded in right good will,
He rous'd himselfe full blyth, and hastned them untill.
Then badd those knightes fair UNA yede aloof,
Whiles they attacked that dragon side by side,
And put the issue to stern battaille's proof;
"We'll give this Big Green Bogey beans!" they cryde,
That Red Crosse Knight of Brummagem in his pride,
And brave Prince ARTHURE of the shining crest.
But if victoriously their blades they plied,
Or, baffled by the dragon, gave him beste,--
Why, that the barde will sing _after_ the battaille's teste!
* * * * *
[Illustration: "THROUGH DARKEST LAMBETH."]
POLITICS.
(_BY A CONFUSED CITIZEN._)
What a state we'll soon be in!
Such a clamour, such a din,
Raised from Kew to Dalston,
Cork to Cromer, Wight to Wick!
Seeking votes through thin and thick,
GLADSBURY and SALSTONE!
Talk and chatter, speech and cry!
Some assert, then some deny
In a near or far shire;
Call each other names and laugh,
Jeer and chuckle, joke and chaff--
DEVONCOURT and HARSHIRE!
Still they come and still they go;
Up and down, and high and low,
Many more than those four.
Speak in Council, speak in House,
Think not yet of golf or grouse,
BALBERY and ROSEFOUR.
Rush and canvass up and down,
Village, hamlet, city, town,
Stately street or poor lane;
Start committees, advertise,
Think of rousing party cries,
CHAMBERLEY and MORLAIN!
Such a fidget, such a fuss!
There is no escape for us;
We shall have it shortly.
How I wish that both would go
Off to Bath or Jericho,
SALFOURLAIN, GLADCOURTLEY!
* * * * *
"Cave Kanem!"--"If," Dr. KANE is reported to have said at the Ulster
Appeal Meeting in St. James's Hall, last Wednesday, "If they (the
Ulster Irishmen) had to choose between arbitrary oppression and an
appeal for justice to the God of battles, he (Dr. KANE) had no more
doubt than he had about his existence, that that appeal would be made,
and that God would defend the right." With the saving clause adroitly
introduced into the last sentence, everyone, except an Atheist, will
agree; and, but for this, this speech reads as an incentive to Civil
War, intended to stir up brother against brother to fight to the
death. Such sentiments may, in the future, be remembered as marked
with "the brand of KANE."
* * * * *
A Difficulty.--_Mr. Dick_ was unable to keep, "King Charles the
First's head" out of his literary work. So Our OSCAR, it is said, has
been unable to keep the head of St. John the Baptist out of his play,
_Salome_, accepted by SARAH. Hence difficulty with licenser. The real
truth, we believe, is that the head, according to received tradition,
should be brought in by _Salome_ "on a charger," and SARAH protests
against this, as she is not an equestrian.
* * * * *
A New Songstress.--Mr. CUSINS, on Wednesday last, accompanying
SCHUMANN, RUBINSTEIN, & Co., may fairly be described as "CUSINS
German." A very successful Concert, musically notable, among many
notable things, for the _debut_ of Miss GWLADYS WOOD, who, being
vociferously encored, gave a Tyrolean Volkslied, or "VOKES' Family"
dance and song, playing the accompaniment herself. "She ought to do
well."--I quote SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, the Musician, who
sang a _duo_ with Mme. VALDA. The Concert commenced with a "Septette
(By DESIRE)." This is a new Composer.
* * * * *
[Illustration: The Beadle with the German Reeds' Staff.]
An Afternoon with Those who "Entertain" More than Anyone in
London.--"_Charity Begins At Home_" or rather it begins at the GERMAN
REEDS,' _after_ CORNEY GRAIN has finished his amusing "Vocal Recital."
Then it is that never-failing Charity begins, and goes as well as
ever. ALFRED REED is immensely funny, especially when disguised as a
Charity Girl. On no account miss the Grain of Chaff's capital French
version of CHEVALIER's Coster song about "_'Arry 'Awkins_." It's
lovely! Excellent entertainment for everybody at St. George's Hall.
* * * * *
Doctor O'Letters.--_July 6th_.--Not "D.C.L." but "honorary degree of
Doctor of Letters," is to be conferred by Dublin University on HENRY
IRVING, for masterly management of vast correspondence. Let Oxford
follow suit with a "Postmastership of Merton." Dr. L. O'TOOLE says,
"I'm satisfied with 'L.L.L. Three Stars,' and plenty of it."
* * * * *
THE HORSE-EDUCATOR.
(_A SKETCH AT SYDENHAM._)
SCENE--_An Arena at North End of Crystal Palace.--The Arena is
thickly covered with sawdust, and occupied solely by a light
American waggon. There is a small steam-engine at one side,
with an escape-pipe and valve projecting into the Circus,
and a bundle of parti-coloured stuff is fluttering overhead
opposite. From loose-boxes, three or four horses are examining
these ominous preparations with apprehensive eyes. Enter
a Portly Gentleman in a tall hat and frock-coat, who bows
to the audience, and is but faintly applauded, owing to a
disappointed sense that the ideal Horse-trainer would not
tame in a tall hat. However, he merely appears to introduce
Professor NORTON B. SMITH, who, turning out to be a slender,
tall man, in a slouch hat, black velveteen coat, breeches, and
riding boots, is received with enthusiasm._
_The Professor_ (_with a slight Transatlantic accent_). The first
animal On my list, Ladies and Gentlemen, is a vurry bad shyer, afraid
Of strange Objects, Fireworks, Music, Paper. Almost _anything_, in
fact. Bring out Number One, boys. (_To a tall Groom and a short one,
who rush to the loose-boxes, the short Groom falling over a drum, to
the general delight. The horse who is afraid of almost anything is
brought in, and begins to plunge at once, as though defying any_
Professor _to cure_ him.) Now, this animal is not Vicious, he's only
Nervous.
[Illustration: "The short Groom falling over a drum."]
[_The Horse appears to resent this description of himself, and
lashes out by way of contradiction._
_Paterfamilias, in audience_ (_who has a spoilt horse at home_). Just
what I always say about _Tartar_--it's nerves, not vice.
_His Eldest Daughter._ Shall you send him here to be cured, Father?
_Paterf._ No, my dear; quite unnecessary. When I see how it's done, I
shall able to take _Tartar_ in hand myself, I have no doubt.
_The Prof._ (_instructively_). It is natural For a Horse when
frightened at anything in Front of him, To jump Backwards, and when
frightened at anything Back of him, To jump Forwards. (_Applause, in
recognition of the accuracy and observation of this axiom._) Now I
will show you my method Of correcting this Tendency by means Of
my double Safety Rope and driving Rein, without Cruelty. Always Be
Humane, Never causing any Pain if you Possibly can Help it. Fetch that
Harness. (_The short Groom trips again, but so elaborately as to be
immediately recognised as the funny man of the performance, after
which his awkwardness ceases to entertain. The Professor shouts,
"Woa!" and, as the horse declines to accept this suggestion,
emphasises it by pulling the double rope, which, being attached to
the animals forelegs, promptly brings him on his knees, much to his
surprise and indignation_.) Never use the word "Woa!" Only when
you mean your horse To stop. Woa! (_horse down again, intensely
humiliated_.) If you mean him just To go quiet, say "Steady!" and
teach him The difference Of the words. Never afterwards Deceiving him.
(Paterf. _makes a note of this on Tartar's account._) Steady ...
Woa! (_Same business repeated; horse evidently feeling that he is the
victim of a practical joke, and depressed. Finally, Professor says
"Woa!" without pulling, and horse thinks it better to take the
hint._)
_Paterf._ Wonder where I could get that apparatus--just the thing for
_Tartar_!
_His Daughter_. But you would have to lay down such a lot of sawdust
first. And it might teach him to kneel down whenever you said "Woa!"
you know, and _that_ wouldn't do!
_Paterf._ Um! No. Never thought of that.
_Prof._ I will now introduce To his notice the Bass Drum. (_The two
Grooms dance about the horse, banging a drum and clashing cymbals, at
which he shies consumedly. Gradually he appears to realise that his
lines have fallen among lunatics, and that his wisest policy is to
humour them. He does so, even to the extent of suffering the big drum
to be beaten on his head with patient disgust._)
_The Daughter_. You might try _that_ with _Tartar_, Father. You could
have the dinner-gong, you know.
_Paterf._ (_dubiously_). H'm, I'm not at all sure that it would have
the same effect, my dear.
_Prof._ (_who has vaulted on the horse's back_). I will now make him
familiar With an umbrella. (_Opens it suddenly; horse plunges_.) Now,
Sir, this is nothing but an umbrella--vurry good one too--it isn't
going to hurt you; look at it!
[_He waves it round the animal's head, and finally claps it
over his eyes, the horse inspects it, and tacitly admits that
he may have been prejudiced._
_Daughter._ It would be quite easy to do that, Father. We could hide
in the shrubbery with parasols, and jump out at him.
_Paterf._ Not while _I'm_--Well, we must see what your _Mother_ says
about that. [_Begins to wish he had come alone._
_Prof._ (_introducing another horse_). This animal is a confirmed
Kicker. We'll give him a little tinware, just to amuse him. (_Some tin
pans and bells are attached to the animal's tail, but, perceiving
that kicks are expected from him, his natural contrariness makes him
decline to make sport for Philistines in this manner._) Hang on more
tinware, boys! Some persons here may feel Disappointed that he Doesn't
kick. Remember--that is not My Fault. They can't be too vicious
to please me. (_The Horse sees his way to score, and after bearing
various trials in a spirit of Christian resignation, leaves the Arena,
consoled by the reflection that no one there got much fun out of_ him,
_at all events. A Jibber is brought in; the Professor illustrates
his patent method of teaching him to stand while being groomed, by
tying a rope to his tail, seizing the halter in one hand and the rope
in the other, and obliging the horse to perform an involuntary waltz,
after which he mounts him and continues his discourse._) Now it
occasionally happens To some riders that when they want To go down G.
Street, their horse has a sort of idea he'd like to go up E. Street,
and he generally _does_ go up it too!
_A Sister_ (_to her Brother_). ROBERT that's just like the horse _you_
rode that last time, isn't it?
[_ROBERT doesn't answer, fervently hoping that his Sister's
Pretty Friend has not overheard this comment._
_The Prof._ Well, the way to overcome that is just to turn the animal
round--so--several times till he gets dizzy and forgets where E.
Street is, and then he says to himself, "I guess I'd better go
wherever the gentleman wants!"
_The Sister._ ROBERT's horse turned round and round like
that--_didn't_ he, ROBERT? [ROBERT _turns rather red and grunts._
_Her Pretty Friend._ And then did he go where your brother wanted him
to?
_The Sister._ Oh yes, at last. (_ROBERT breathes more freely._) Only
without ROBERT. [_ROBERT wonders bitterly why on earth a fellow's
Sisters should try to make him out a regular muff like this._
[_Two more horses are brought out, put in double harness
in the light waggon, and driven round the Arena by the
Professor. A steam whistle is let off over their heads,
whereupon they rear and plunge, and back frantically, the
Professor discoursing unperturbed from the waggon. After a
few repetitions of this, the horses find the steam-whistle out
as a brazen impostor, and become hardened sceptics from that
moment. They despise the Comic Groom when he prances at them
with a flag, and the performance of the Serious Man on the
cymbals only inspires them with grave concern on his account.
The bundle of coloured rags is let down suddenly on their
heads, and causes them nothing but contemptuous amusement;
crackers bang about their heels--and they pretend to be
pleased; the Funny Groom (who is, by this time, almost
unrecognisable with sawdust), gets on the near horse's back
and bangs the drum on his head, but they are merely pained by
his frivolity. Finally he throws an armful of old newspapers
at them, and they exhibit every sign of boredom. After this,
they are unharnessed and sent back to their boxes--a pair
of equine Stoics who are past surprise at anything on this
earth._]
_The Prof._ (_concluding amidst loud applause_). Ladies and Gentlemen,
I have only To say that I don't carry any horses About with me, and
that if anyone here has a vicious Or nervous animal, and likes to send
him to me, I will undertake to handle him free of all charge.
_Paterf._ I shall have _Tartar_ sent here--less trouble than trying
the methods myself--and safer.
_Prof._ And after I have treated the animal as you have seen, the
Proprietor will only have to repeat the process himself for a week or
so, and I guarantee he will have a thoroughly broke horse.
_The Daughter_. There, you see, Father, some of the taming will _have_
to be done at home!
_Paterf._ (_who doesn't quite see himself dancing about_ Tartar _with
a drum, or brandishing an umbrella on his back_). Well, TOPPIN will
take the horse over, and he'll be here and see how it's done. I can't
be bothered with it myself. I've too much to do!
_The Daughter_. I wish you would. I'm sure _Tartar_ would rather _you_
tamed him than TOPPIN!
[_Paterf. while privately of opinion that this is not
unlikely, sees no necessity to consider his horse's
preferences in the matter_.
* * * * *
ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
_House of Commons, Monday, June 20_.--Black Rod got up little joke
to-night by way of relieving the weight of these mournful parting
moments. As soon as House met, word went round that, in absence of
Mr. G., and other Leaders of the Opposition, SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE
intended to take Prince ARTHUR in hand, and insist on his making clean
breast of date of Dissolution. A Royal Commission arranged in other
House. Black Rod despatched to summon Commons to assist at ceremony.
"The SAGE wants the House of Lords abolished, does he?" said Black
Rod, to his friend the White Elephant. "Very well; but before
it's done, I'll bet you 100 to 1, as JOHN MORLEY says, that I, as
representative of the Lords, will make him shut up, and pretty sharp
too. He little knows there's a Rod in pickle for him, and a Black 'un,
too."
Everything worked out as it was planned. On Motion for Third Reading
of Appropriation Bill, SAGE, in his most winning way, invited Prince
ARTHUR to name the happy day. Black Rod, getting tip, hurried across
Lobby; reached the door just as SAGE was in middle of a sentence.
"Black Rod!" roared Doorkeeper, at top of his voice. SAGE paused,
looked with troubled glance towards door, stood for a moment as if he
would resist the incursion, and catching sight of sword by Black Rod's
side, abruptly sat down amid general titter.
[Illustration: "Stopped on the threshold."]
Still winding-up business. GEORGE CURZON explained Indian Budget to
PLOWDEN, and Rev. SAM SMITH, who thought it very good. So it was,
comprehensive, lucid, here and there brightened with felicitous
touches of eloquence.
"Pity," said GRAND CROSS, when I mentioned to him the depressing
circumstances attendant upon delivery of speech; "CURZON's a clever
youth. When he's been with me a month or two, he'll brighten up
considerably. Great advantage for a young man to have such guidance,
coming into almost daily contact with a person like his present Chief.
The fact is, TOBY, I am really responsible for the state of the House
to-night. The country, England and India alike, are so satisfied
with my rule over what I may, perhaps without offence, call our dusky
Empire, that people do not think it worth while to go down to House
to hear the affair discoursed on by my Under-Secretary. Amongst
the natives in India, I'm told, I'm regarded as a sort of Fetish.
Travellers in remote regions bring home stories of finding, set up in
humble cottages, little images, more or less resembling me. GORST told
me they have a saying there, which he was good enough to translate.
His knowledge of Hindustanee is extensive, peculiar, and acquired with
remarkable rapidity. These are the lines:
If you'd never make a loss,
Put your money on GRAND CROSS.
A free translation, GORST says, but gives you the swing and the spirit
of the distich. Rather hard on CURZON that my popularity should spoil
his speech, but a good thing for the country."
_Business done_.--Budget brought in.
_Tuesday_.--Wonderfully good muster in Lords to-night. Every man upon
his mettle. As the MARKISS says, with that epigrammatic style that
makes him so delightful, "The first duty of a Peer is to appear."
Those Radicals been protesting that talk about necessity for
prolonging Session over week all a flam. Simply meant to make it
impossible for our delicate friend, the British Workman, to get
to poll. Peers must show they mean business, by turning up with
regularity and despatch.