Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103, October 29, 1892 by Various
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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
VOL. 103
OCTOBER 29, 1892
IMPRESSIONS OF "IL TROVATORE."
(_BY A MATTER-OF-FACT PHILISTINE AT COVENT GARDEN._)
ACT I. SCENE 2.--_Leonora's_ confidant evidently alive to the
responsibilities of her position. Watch her, for example, when her
Mistress is about to confide to her ear the dawn of her passion for
_Manrico_. She walks _Leonora_ gently down to the footlights, launches
her into her solo, like a boat, and stands aside on the left, a
little behind, with an air of apprehension, lest she should come to
grief over the next high note, and a hand in readiness to support her
elbow in case she should suddenly collapse. Then, feeling partially
reassured, she goes round to inspect her from the right, where she
remains until her superior has completed her confidences, and it is
time to lead her away. Operatic confidant sympathetic--but a more
modern heroine might find one "get on her nerves," perhaps. _Manrico_
a very robust type of Troubadour--but oughtn't a Troubadour to carry
about a guitar, or a lute, or something? If _Manrico_ has one, he
invariably leaves it outside. Probably doesn't see why, with so many
competent musicians in the orchestra, he should take the trouble of
playing his own accompaniments. And why does the Curtain invariably
come down as soon as swords are drawn? Tantalising to have all the
duels and fighting done during the _entr'actes._
[Illustration: Manrico, a rather full-blown "Ghost in Hamlet."]
ACT II. SCENE 1.--_Azucena_ insists on telling _Manrico_ a long and
rather improbable story of how, in a fit of absorption, she once burnt
her own son in mistake for the _Conte di Luna's, Manrico_ listens, as
a matter of filial duty--because, after all, she is his mother--but
he is clearly of opinion that these painful family reminiscences are
far better forgotten. Perhaps he suspects that her anguish may be
due to a severe fit of indigestion--the symptoms of which are almost
indistinguishable from those of operatic remorse. At all events, he
does not find his parent a cheerful companion, and, as soon as he
finds a decent excuse for escape, takes it.
SCENE 2.--The Cloisters of a Convent. _Enter_ the _Conte di Luna_,
with followers, to abduct _Leonora_. The followers range themselves
against a wall in the background, until the Count has finished
"_Il Balen_." If their opinion was asked, they would probably be
in favour of his making rather less noise about it, if he really
means business--but of course it is not _their_ place to interfere.
_Leonora_ enters to take the veil, with procession of nuns, preceded
by four female acolytes--or are they pages?--in white tights, carrying
tapers. The Count and his followers are evidently a little taken
aback--an abduction not quite so simple an affair as they expected.
While they are working themselves up to it, _Manrico_ appears, as the
stage-direction says, "like a phantom." In a helmet, with a horsehair
tail, and a large white cloak, he does look extremely like the
_Ghost_ in _Hamlet_, and which is, perhaps, why the Count, under the
impression that he is an apparition from some other Opera, allows him
to Walk off with _Leonora_ under his very nose. Swords are drawn--with
the usual result of bringing down the Curtain.
[Illustration: "Azucena," or, "My pretty Chain!"]
ACT III. SCENE 1.--Soldiers discovered carousing, as wildly as is
possible on four gilded cruets, and a dozen goblets. _Azucena_
is brought before the Count, and manacled. Operatic handcuffs--a
most humane contrivance--with long links, to permit of the freest
facilities for entreaty and imprecation. Soldiers, who have been
called to arms, but stayed, from a natural curiosity to hear what the
_Conte di Luna_ had to say to the Gipsy, go off, as she is led away
to prison, with a sense that they have seen all there _is_ to be
seen, and a vague recollection that there is some fighting to be done
somewhere.
SCENE 2.--_Leonora_, and _Manrico_ are about to be married; everything
prepared--four apathetic bridesmaids, and the four acolytes in
tights--who have possibly been kindly lent by the Convent for the
occasion--in a vacuous row at the back of the scene. Fancy _Manrico_
has forgotten to give them the usual initial brooches, and they feel
the wedding is a poky affair, and take no interest in it. _Leonora_
herself is in low spirits--seems to miss the confidant, and to be
oppressed with a misgiving that the wedding is not destined to come
off. Misgivings on the stage are never thrown away--the wedding _is_
interrupted immediately by a crowd of men, in small sugar-loaf caps,
who carry the bridegroom off to fight--whereupon, of course, the
Curtain falls.
[Illustration: Luna and the Star of the Evening.]
ACT IV. SCENE 1.--_Leonora_ listening outside the tower in which
_Manrico_ is being tortured, after having been taken prisoner in a
combat during the _entr'acte_. Here a confidant might have comforted
her considerably by representing that they couldn't be torturing the
poor Troubadour so _very_ seriously so long as he is able to take part
in a duet--but unfortunately _Leonora_ seems to have discharged the
confidant after the Second Act--an error of judgment on her part, for
she is certainly incapable of taking care of herself. A cool-headed,
sensible confidant, for instance, would have taken care that the
bargain with the _Conte di Luna_ was conceived and carried out in a
more business-like spirit.
"Now _do_ be careful," she would have said. "Make sure that the Count
keeps _his_ word before you break _yours_. Don't go and see _Manrico_
yourself--it _can_ do no good, and will only harrow you! If you
really _must_ go, don't take a quick poison first--or you'll die
in his dungeon, and spoil the whole thing!" Which is just what
_Leonora_--like the impulsive operatic heroine she is--proceeds to
do, and is cruelly misunderstood by _Manrico_, in consequence, besides
hastening his doom by disappointing the Count, whose irritation was
only natural, and pardonable, under the circumstances.
Don't quite see myself why the Count should be so horrified on
learning that the person he has just had executed was his long-lost
brother. It is not as if they had ever been friendly, or were at all
likely to become so, considering their previous relations. Depend
upon it, when he has time to think the matter over calmly, he will
recognise that things are better as they are, and that Fate has
solved his domestic difficulties in the only possible manner. A
Troubadour Brother, with a revengeful and quite unpresentable gipsy
foster-mother, would have proved very trying persons to live with.
* * * * *
"A CHIEL'S AMANG YE MAKING NOTES."--Sir ARTHUR SULLIVAN sat next to
Sir HENRY HAWKINS during part of the recent sensational trial at
the Ancient Bailey, making, of course not taking, notes. Sir HENRY
occasionally conversed with the Knight of Music. Did the latter hum,
_sotto voce_, "_And a good Judge too!_" with other selections from
_Trial by Jury_? Everyone glad Sir ARTHUR is so well. Perhaps after
this he will return to Real Eccentric Gilbertian Opera, and go away
for "change of air." The "Carte" is at the door, ready to take him,
but his original "Gee Gee" has gone to America.
* * * * *
[Illustration: "HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE!"
"This Garter, brighter from the knee
Of him who uttered nothing--important."]
_"Mister" Rosebery, loquitur_:--
A Star and Garter! Here's a go!
Well, well, no doubt 'twas to be worn meant;
And, as mere personal adornment,
It does look smartish, dontcher know!
All personal adornment's vain,
Held Dr. WATTS, holds dear McDOUGALL;
For dowdy dress and habits frugal
Befit the Democratic strain.
And I'm a Democrat--of course!
The BENJAMIN FRANKLIN of the Peerage!
And yet--ah! truly 'tis a queer age--
Decoration has _some_ force!
I wonder what the L.C.C.
Will say to this! That I should spurn it?
JOHN BURNS may swear I ought to burn it.
Still--it looks natty round my knee.
I need not wear it when I sit
Among the broadcloth'd heirs of BUMBLE!
But Foreign Minister too humble
Were butt of diplomatic wit.
Battersea's pride my pride may scourge.
Well--he may find he's caught a Tartar.
A robe--a coronet--a garter!--
Materials for a new "PRIDE'S PURGE"!
The keen-eyed Democratic lynx
May watch me with alert suspicion,
As but a half-disguised patrician,
But--shame to him who evil thinks!
[_Left posturing complacently._
* * * * *
[Illustration: SOMETHING LIKE A MOUNT.
_Sportsman_ (_with gun_). "HILLO, ALGIE, BEEN CUB-HUNTING? HOW DOES
THE YOUNG 'UN GO?"
_Algie_. "SPLENDIDLY, OLD FELLOW, SPLENDIDLY! NEVER CARRIED SO WELL
IN MY LIFE! GOT CLEAN AWAY WITH ME AS SOON AS THEY FOUND,--COULDN'T
HOLD HIM A BIT--BOLD AS A LION, NOTHING STOPS HIM,--WENT SLICK
THROUGH A FLIGHT O' FAIR-HOLED POSTS AND RAILS, SMASHED A GATE INTO
MATCHWOOD,--TWENTY MINUTES STRAIGHT AS THE CROW FLIES THROUGH AND OVER
EVERYTHING,--AND, HANG ME, IF HE WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN GOING YET, IF HE
HADN'T PUT HIS FOOT INTO A RABBIT-HOLE CROSSING CRUMPLER COMMON, AND
COME A REGULAR CROWNER. DON'T KNOW WHERE THE DEUCE THE HOUNDS WENT TO!
HAD A GLORIOUS GALLOP, THOUGH, ALL TO MYSELF!"]
* * * * *
THE COUNTY-COUNCILLOR'S DIARY.
(_A FEW YEARS HENCE._)
_Monday_.--To-day's meeting of the Council rather stormy. The
Council's Clerk of the Works, who superintends the fifty thousand
builders, bricklayers, &c., who are now employed directly by us,
reports that, unless the concessions demanded by the men are granted,
they will all go out on strike to-morrow. The concessions are--Free
beer three times a-day; half-holiday every other day at full day's
wages; and a month's trip to the Riviera in winter, paid for out of
the rates. Clerk of the Works (appointed, on elective principle, by
the men themselves) describes these demands as "highly moderate and
reasonable." Council unable to agree with him. After sitting for six
hours, amid frightful uproar, Council breaks up, without coming to any
decision.
_Tuesday_.--Workmen _have_ struck! Awkward, as they have just pulled
down north side of Strand, to make room for double lines of electric
tramways in centre of roadway, and whole street in an awful litter.
Begin to wish we had not "Abolished the Contractor" quite so hastily.
_Wednesday_.--Another meeting of Council. Quite unanimous to go on
resisting men's demands. Clerk of Works reports that the Council's
scavengers, plumbers, carters, lamp-lighters, and turncocks, are all
threatening to strike, in sympathy with bricklayers. In consequence of
evident enjoyment with which Clerk makes this announcement, proposal
to decrease his salary from that of a Lord Chancellor to that of a
Puisne Judge, carried _nem. con_. In spite of attacks on Council in
the Press, satisfactory that it knows how to keep up its dignity at
this crisis.
_Thursday_.--Matters getting serious. A deep fall of snow has
occurred, and Council's men refuse to clear it away, or let others do
the work! In addition, Strand tradesmen come in body to Spring Gardens
to say that "nobody can get near their shops, and they are being
rapidly ruined." Hastily-convened meeting of the Council. Proposal
to ask our old Contractor to rebuild Strand and clear snow away. Our
old Contractor declines to tender for the job! He says, "Council has
abolished the Middleman, and had better get on without him, if it
can!" Rude, but forcible.
_Friday_.--Council heroically decides to do the work itself. Am told
off by Chairman to help remove old bricks on the Strand site. Have
first to dig snow away to get at bricks. Intense amusement of hostile
crowd, from whom we are protected by a cordon of police. Bark my
shins badly against wheel of cart. Chairman--who has been extremely
energetic in running up and down a ladder with a hod of mortar over
his shoulder, which he thinks is bricklaying--falls from ladder and is
taken off to Charing Cross Hospital; amid shower of brickbats. Crowd
wants to know "which is McDOUGALL." When they find out, pelt him with
snowballs. BURNS--who has stuck loyally to Council--fiercely denounced
as a "blackleg" by crowd. Amusing at any other time. Home in evening
dead tired, under police escort. Find all my front windows smashed!
After all--_was_ it wise to abolish the Contractor?
_Saturday_.--Whole County Council, protected by several regiments from
Aldershot, a park of Artillery, and all the City Police (Council's
own Police being out on strike, in sympathy with bricklayers), manage
with great difficulty to fill ten carts with rubbish, and then adjourn
to Spring Gardens. Refreshments and free sticking-plaster handed
round before Meeting takes place. Meeting unanimously decides to
re-establish old Middleman system! Sir JOHN LUBBOCK humorously
suggests that it is, at any rate, better than the "muddle-man" system
which we have tried and found wanting. Bonus of L5,000 out of rates,
enthusiastically voted to any Contractor who will tender for job of
clearing snow and widening Strand.
_Later_.--High Court disallows our "precept" for the L5,000
bonus--says we must pay it out of our own pockets!
Wish I had never stood for London County Council!
* * * * *
ROBERT'S COMPANIONS. NO. 2.
Another of our speshal lot is good old SAM, with his wunderfool
memmery. He won't tell not nobody his age. But he acshally swears
as he remembers the time when there wasn't not no Cabs, nor no
Homnybusses nor no Hallways, nor no Steam Botes, nor no Perlice, in
all Lundon! And when there was grate droves of Cattel and Sheep druv
thro' the streets, and people used to have to put up bars at their
doors to keep 'em out. And menny and menny a time has he seen a reel
live Bullock march into his Master's Counting 'Ouse, with his two wild
horns a sticking out, and as it was to narrer for him to turn hisself
round, he used to have to be backed out tale foremost, with a fierce
dog a barking at his nose.
[Illustration]
Ah, them must have been rayther rum times, them must! How the peepel
got about he don't seem quite to remember; but he says, as how
as amost all on 'em lived at their warious shops and warehouses,
and so mostly walked. There was, it seems, a few ramshackel old
coaches, called Ackney Coaches--coz, they was all maid at Ackney, I
suppose--all drorn by two ramshackel old Osses, and with werry shabby
old drivers with wisps of stror round their shabby old hats. Then some
brite Genus went and inwented Cabs, and they soon cut out the Ackney
Coaches, which all went back to Ackney, and was never seen no more.
And then, sum ewen briter Genus went and inwented Homnybusses, and
they rayther estonished the Cabs, and what the next brite Genus will
inwent in that line, I don't know, and SAM don't know, and I don't
suppose as nobody else don't. But the most wunderfullest thing of all
must have bin the having of no Perlice! For SAM, acshally declares,
that before Perlice was inwented by Sir ROBERT PEEL--therefore
wulgarly called Bobbys and Peelers--the only pertecters as London
had at night was a lot of werry old men, all crissened CHARLEY, who
used to sit in little boxes, such as the Solgers has at the QUEEN's
Pallaces, with a little lantern hanging up in front, and when the
Church Clocks all struck the hour, they all used to git out of their
boxes and wark up and down the streets a calling out, "Parst Three
o'Clock!" or "Parst Five o'Clock!" as it mite happen to be, and then
go back to their little boxes, and hang up their lanterns, and quietly
go to sleep! Ah, them must have been werry nice times for Messrs.
DICK TUPPIN, JACK SHEPHARD, BILL SIKES, and Cumpny, unlimited. But,
SAM says, as they made up for it by hanging ewery body as stole amost
anythink, such as a sheep, or a fi-pound note, or a gold watch, and
that on Mondays, which was Hanging Days, he has offen and offen stood
at the hend of the Hold Baley and seen sum five or six pore retches,
with white nite caps on, all a hanging together! and he says it all so
serously that we are forced to bleeve him.
Then there's old slowcoach Jo, the tea-totaller. We all likes to work
with him, and for a werry good reeson. But he's rayther a comical
feller is Jo. He says, when peeple cums to know all the true fax of
the case, they'll willingly pay dubble price for tea-total Waiters.
And he reelly is such a poor simple fellow that I werrily bleeves
as he bleeves hisself when he says it. I carn't think what he
means by it; but BROWN says as it's a perfeckly shameful attack
on the charackter of all us Waiters as ain't such fools as to be
Tea-totallers, and that we really ort all of us to cut him. But
no--I'm in favour of Free Trade in Waiters as in Wine, and I shoud
think that, in this pertickler case, his hobstinacy brings its own
punishment. For what can be a creweller life for a poor Waiter to
lead, than to be constantly surrounded by harf emty bottels of most
bewtifool Wines, of all kinds, so as to suit the most fastidgeous
Waiter's taste, and not ellowd to taste ewen one glass of 'em! I
thinks as I've heard of sum unfortnit hindiwidial, in holden times,
as used to be seated down hevrey day to a werry scrumpshus dinner,
but, whatever he fixt his mind upon, the Doctor woudn't allow him to
taste it, not by no means. His name, I think, was SANKY PANSER, some
relashun of MOODY and SANKY, I sposes. His master's name was DAN
QUICKSHOT, ony another name, I bleeves, for BUFFALO BILL. But that was
nothink of a case to wun as my son WILLIAM told us of the other day.
It seems as there was, wunce upon a time, a Greshian Gent, by the
name of TANTLUS, who, becoz he was found out in helping hisself to sum
werry speshal brand of Neckter, was condemned to stand up to his neck
in water for ewer so many years; and altho he was so dredfool thusty
that he would have drunk a lot of ewen that cold, thin stuff, he
wasn't allowed not to taste a drop; and, not only that, but there was
a lot of most bewtifool frute a hanging jest above his pore hed, and
whenever he tried jest to pluck a bit of it, the crewel wind blowed it
away out of his reach. Hence the prowerb, "You be blowed!"
In course I don't pertend to know how these things was manidged in
former times, but I werry much douts whether ewen a Greshian Gent's
constitushun coud posserbly have stood it for ewer so menny years!
ROBERT.
* * * * *
CARON AND CHARON.
(_AFTER DIPPING INTO MAJOR LE CARON'S "RECOLLECTIONS."_)
MAJOR LE CARON! Major! True, a greater
Or more accomplished spy who ever knew?
And so original! In fact, the _pater_
Of all deception yields the palm to You!
Courageous, honest, crafty, how you met
Wile with wile wilier! And then, forsooth,
You so transformed yourself to suit each set,
That it is praise to say, "you lied like truth!"
And in an honest cause! Renown'd Ulysses,
That craftiest hero yields to you in guile.
You touch the gold! You're not the man who misses
A chance! You caught the wariest with your smile!
"CARON!" The "h" is dropped, or we could fix
(And so we can if Greek the name we make)
You as the ancient Ferryman of Styx,
Punting the Ghosts across the Stygian lake.
The simile is nearly perfect, note,
For you, with your Conspirators afloat,
Were, as you've shown us, all in the same boat.
* * * * *
AT IT AGAIN!
The following correspondence and extracts have been sent to _Mr.
Punch_ for publication:--
I.--_Koniglich-Kaiserlicher Ober-Hof-Rath Doctor Hermann Dummwitz von
Hammelfleisch to The Emperor-King William the Second._
MOST GRACIOUS IMPERIAL MAJESTY,
I have the honour to announce to your Majesty, that my spouse, the
beautiful and accomplished clergyman-daughter, ANNA ANSELMA, whom,
by your Majesty's ever-to-be-with-gratitude-remembered permission, I
last year to the altar led, is now of good hope, and will shortly, if
all should go well, add one to your Majesty's loyal and submissive
subjects. I make this announcement in accordance with your Majesty's
Hochzeit's Decree, Section 6.
And I remain, &c. &c. &c., DUMMWITZ VON HAMMELFLEISCH.
II.--_William the Second to K.K.O.H.R.D.H.D. von Hammelfleisch._
HERR DOCTOR,
I have received your letter. In accordance with Section 7 of my
Hochzeit's Decree, I graciously give permission for the birth of the
child referred to in your communication. I beg, at the same time, to
point out that, by my Supplementary Decree (Proportions of Sexes),
issued last week, it is necessary that the child should be a boy.
Communicate this at once to the Frau K.E. Ober-Hof-Rathin Doctorin
A.A. VON HAMMELFLEISCH.
(Signed) WILLIAM I. ET R.
III.--_K.K.O.H.R.D. von Hammelfleisch to the Emperor-King, William the
Second._
MOST IMPERIAL MAJESTY,
Your with-satisfaction-received letter has been to my wife
communicated. She desires me to assure you that she is your Imperial
Majesty's obedient subject, (Signed) D. VON H.
IV.--_Extract from the "Reich's Anzeiger."_
"Frau ANNA ANSELMA VON HAMMELFLEISCH, having last week given birth to
a girl in contravention of his Imperial Majesty's Supplementary Decree
(No. 10. Proportions of Sexes), it is our painful duty to announce
that the Herr Doctor DUMMWITZ VON HAMMELFLEISCH has been dismissed
from his post as K.K. Ober-Hof-Rath, and will immediately be
prosecuted for the crime of _lese Majeste_."
V.--_Extract from the "Reich's Anzeiger," a month later_
"The prisoner, HAMMELFLEISCH, was yesterday condemned to twenty years'
solitary confinement in the fortress of Spandau. The wretched man
acknowledged the justice of his sentence, and begged others to take
warning by his fate."
* * * * *
LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.
_Mount Street, Grosvenor Square._
DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Most delightful weather favoured us last week at
Gatwick and Sandown, and most of the horses I mentioned as worth
following either finished nowhere or were not there at all, which I
think is a fair average record for a Turf prophet! I heard at Sandown
that sweeping reforms are to be expected in Turf matters next Season,
but I will not harp too much on this string, as more able pens than
mine have undertaken it--though how a "pen" can harp on a string I
don't quite see--or _hear_, it should be.
I certainly think _Brandy_ would have won the Gatwick Handicap, but
I suppose the bottle is getting low, and is being reserved in case
the Cambridgeshire is run on a cold day! And that brings me to the
consideration of this great race. I do not propose to analyse the form
of all the horses, but will devote my attention to a few of the likely
ones--who should feel complimented thereat (I suppose a horse; can
feel a compliment just as well as it can a whip)--from which might
spring the winner. First and foremost, then, _La Fleche_ has, in my
opinion, enough weight to carry, even if the jockey is included, as I
believe is the case--and I was told by Sir CHARLEY WHITELEY, that to
win the Newmarket Oaks she had to be "bustled up"--a fashion which I
thought had quite gone out!--anyhow, many people think she is "not the
same mare she was"--though how they can have changed her I don't quite
understand, but it would not surprise me to find _Windgall_ the best
of the Baron's on the day.
There are several horses spoken of as "rods in pickle," but as a
rule, these animals stop at "rods" and never get to "poles" much less
"perches!" Should Sir JAS. MILLER win the race, the town may resound
with many a merry _Joedel_, but this is trying weather for voices,
though I believe he is running untried, but certainly trying! There
was some doubt as to the starting of a great favourite, owing to a
report that the owner had been "forestalled"--an excuse which always
sounds very weak to me, as surely if outsiders can back a horse at
a long price, the owner should also be able to do so, and thus put
backers "in the cart"--where _some_ of them would present a picture
which might lead people to think the "cart" was on its way to Tyburn!
There appears to be considerable doubt as to whether _Buccaneer_ has
eaten anything lately or not, so I must discard him; but I think if he
were given a sherry and bitters at once he might recover his appetite
and win, as he is known to be a "glutton" for work! JEWITT's best
will take some beating, when we know which it is, which we shall do
shortly, as no stable is more ready than this to let everyone into
the secret of their "good things;", so if some _Whisperer_, should
tell you that his _Suspender_ is broken, it is on the cards that the
_Pensioner_ may still be able to walk home in safety! But enough
of this (as your readers will doubtless say!)--and let us come to
the point as the knife said to the pencil--so I will conclude by
recommending a "maximum" on my choice, and as it is a foreign one, I
must necessarily break out into foreign poetry--(just as easy to--),