(_By Mr. Punch's Own Type-writer._)
No. I.--THE DULL ROYSTERER.
[Illustration]
The Dull Roysterer, or, as he is termed by the slangiest of his
intimates, the "Bluff Boozer," is ordinarily the son of a wealthy, but
injudicious father, who, having sent him to a good public school,
furnished him with an income that would keep a curate in luxury. He
developes an early inclination for check trousers, and the pleasures
of the table. Appalled by the difficulties of English spelling, he
seeks comfort in Scotch whiskey, and atones for a profound distaste
for the tongues of ancient Greece and Rome by cultivating an
appreciative palate for the vintages of Modern France. His burly
frame, and a certain brute courage, gain for him a place in the School
Football team, and a considerable amount of popularity, which he
increases by the lavish waste of his excessive allowance. He has a
fine contempt, which he never fails to express, for those boys who
attempt to cultivate their minds by the reading of books, and,
naturally, does not hesitate to degrade his own by the immoderate
absorption of strong drinks.
Having, however, been discovered in a state of intoxication, he leaves
school hurriedly and betakes himself to an Army-crammer's where
discipline is lax and dissipation easy. Here he keeps half-a-dozen
fox-terriers, and busies himself about the destruction of domestic
cats. Yet, by dint of much forcing on the part of his Coach, he
succeeds in passing into Sandhurst, and eventually obtains a
commission in a Cavalry Regiment. During this stage of his career he
frequents race-courses and worships earnestly at the shrine of
Bacchus. He entangles himself with the wife of a brother officer, and,
after figuring as the co-respondent in an undefended case, marries
her. In the meantime he sends in his papers, and retires from the
Army. Shortly afterwards he enlists in the ranks of those who seek
pleasure in the night-resorts of the town. He soon becomes the boon
companion of shady sporting men, latter-day coachmen, pink and
paragraphic journalists, and middle-aged ladies, who, having once
been, or been once, on the stage, still affect the skittish manners of
a ballet-dancer. He is a man of short speech, but his humour is as
broad as his drinks are long. He affects a rowdy geniality and a
swaggering gait, by which he seeks to overawe the inoffensive. Though
he has but a small stock of intelligence, he passes for a wit amongst
his associates by dint of perpetually repeating an inane catch-word.
With this, and a stamp of the foot, he will greet a friend who may
meet him before lunch. Amongst his intimates such a welcome is held to
be intensely humorous. He scatters the same sort of stamp and the
identical remark broadcast over the loungers who congregate in front
of HATCHETT's; by these signs and tokens he announces his presence at
a Sporting Restaurant, and to the same accompaniment he sups at the
Camellia, or looks on, in a heavy, sodden sort of way, while others
dance, at the ball of a _demi-mondaine_.
Yet his general ignorance leads him into perpetual pitfalls, and makes
him the butt of those of his associates who are cleverer than himself.
Having on a certain occasion been addressed as Falstaff, in delicate
allusion to his size and capacity for drink, he is easily persuaded
that the original owner of this name was celebrated in history for his
grace and sobriety. He takes much pride in recounting the incident
ever afterwards.
Though the Roysterer is generally fuddled, he is rarely glorious.
Having once driven a tandem, he is credited with a complete knowledge
of horses, which, however, he invariably fails to turn to any
profitable account. He begins his day with whiskey cock-tails,
continues it with a series of brandy-and-sodas, followed by unlimited
magnums of _brut_ Champagne, and concludes it with more Champagne, a
liberal allowance of liqueur brandies, and two or three tumblers of
whiskey-and-seltzer to round off the night. As the hours advance, his
face assumes a ruddier glow. With the progress of years, being
compelled to conceal the increasing girth of his lower chest by the
constant inflation of his upper, he wears frock-coats. The point which
is lacking in his conversation is conspicuous in his boots, whilst his
collars possess an elevation entirely denied to his manners.
He suffers from no restraint in consequence of his marriage. He is
adored by a certain class of burlesque actresses. He flatters them by
adoring himself. He owns a small house in Belgravia, but he frequently
lives elsewhere. No pigeon-shooting matches, and few poker parties,
amongst a certain set, are complete without him. Having benefited only
to a limited extent under the will of his father, he is not generally
reputed to be wealthy, but he is always extravagant. Yet he manages to
steer clear of the painful consequences of writs with some astuteness.
In middle-age he becomes obese, and cannot go the pace as formerly.
His friends therefore abandon him, and he dies before he is fifty, in
reduced circumstances, of an enlarged liver.
* * * * *
"JOHNNYKIN AND THE GOBLINGS."
[Illustration: Bon Voyage! et Au Revoir!]
Two hundred and fifty Goblings in the Grand Banquet room of the Hotel
Métropole assembled, as all the world knows by this time, to bid
"Farewell, but not good-bye," as CLEMENT SCOTT's admirable verses have
it, to JOHNNYKIN; that is, to Mr. J. L. TOOLE, usually and popularly
spoken of as "JOHNNIE TOOLE," and generally endeared to his private
friends as, simply, "JOHNNIE." Quite the best specimen of a "JOHNNIE,"
among all the "Johnnies" of the present time. _Mr. Punch_, for the
first time in his life, permitted his merry men, The Knights of His
Own Round Table, to convert their usual Wednesday dinner into a
"movable feast," and to transfer it to the day beforehand, in order to
do honour to the unique occasion, and the exceptional guest of the
evening. No wonder there were two hundred and fifty acceptances to the
bill of fare, and two hundred and fifty more ready to sign, seeing
that the invitations came in effect from the President, the
Solicitor-General, who could not solicit in vain.
Mr. FRANK LOCKWOOD, Q.C., M.P., excelled himself in proposing the
toast of "The Drama." He contemned the ancient Greek Drama, but was of
opinion--Counsel's opinion--or, as he was speaking of the Romans,
"Consul's opinion"--that there was "more money in the Latin Drama."
_Mr. Punch_, regretted he was not at his learned friend's elbow to
suggest, that an apt illustration of the truth of his remark might be
found in the success of AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS, IMPERATOR.
Mr. HENRY IRVING proved, by his perfect recital of CLEMENT SCOTT's
verses, how thoroughly "by heart" he had got them. HENRY's "heart is"
_not_ "dead" when JOHNNIE is concerned. Sir EDWARD CLARKE, as we
learnt from the speeches made by himself, Mr. IRVING, and Mr. TOOLE,
seems to have been at school with all the leading Actors; and it was a
miracle that he escaped the attractions of the sock and buskin. Pity
that the song, "When we were boys, Merry merry boys, When we were boys
together," had not been arranged as a trio for them. JOHNNIE was in
his best form; very detached, casual, and uncommonly funny. Lord
ROSEBERY apologised by letter for not being able to be in Scotland and
London at the same time; and the Wicked Abbé BANCROFT in replying to
the toast of the Drama, pathetically represented his hard case of
being called upon to make an after-dinner speech, when he hadn't had
any dinner. The Actor's lot is evidently, not always a happy one. He
wanted a "feeding-part" and didn't get it. The dinner was excellent,
and the waiting of the waiters was, as far as I could ascertain,
exceptionally good. Certainly the Métropole, or the New "Holland"
House,--as it might be termed, after its manager,--holds first rank
for this sort of business. We present Mr. HOLLAND, the Métropole
Caterer, with this suggestion:--
_The Only Condiment for a Farewell Banquet_--"Sauce Ta Ta!"
* * * * *
AVENUE THEATRE.--ALEXANDER the Growing, not yet the Great, finds that
for some weeks to come there will be no necessity to doctor his Bill.
He will be wise, however, not to reject any proffered assistance, as,
from his present success, it is evident he cannot get on un-Aidé-d.
* * * * *
[Illustration: HAPPY THOUGHT.]
"OH, I SAY, OLD MAN, I WISH YOU'D RUN UPSTAIRS AND HUNT FOR MY AUNT,
AND BRING HER DOWN TO SUPPER. SHE'S AN OLD LADY, IN A RED BODY, AND A
GREEN SKIRT, AND A BLUE AND YELLOW TRAIN, WITH AN ORANGE BIRD OF
PARADISE IN HER CAP. YOU CAN'T _POSSIBLY_ MISTAKE HER. SAY I SENT
YOU!"
"AWFULLY SORRY, OLD MAN, BUT--A--I'M TOTALLY COLOUR-BLIND, YOU KNOW.
JUST BEEN TESTED!" [_Exit in a hurry._
* * * * *