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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
VOLUME 98, JUNE 7TH 1890
_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_
VOCES POPULI.
AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY.
IN THE VESTIBULE.
[Illustration]
_Visitors ascending staircase, full of enthusiasm and
energetic determination not to miss a single Picture,
encounter people descending in various stages of mental
and physical exhaustion. At the turnstiles two Friends meet
unexpectedly; both being shy men, who, with timely notice,
would have preferred to avoid one another, their greetings are
marked by an unnatural effusion, and followed by embarrassed
silence._
_First Shy Man (to break the spell)._ Odd, our running up against one
another like this, eh?
_Second Shy Man._ Oh, very odd. (_Looks about him irresolutely, and
wonders if it would be decent to pass on. Decides it will hardly do._)
Great place for meeting, the Academy, though.
_First S. M._ Yes; sure to come across _somebody_, sooner or later.
[_Laughs nervously, and wishes the other would go._
_Second S. M. (seeing that his friend lingers)._ This your _first_
visit here?
_First S. M._ Yes. Couldn't very well get away _before_, you know.
[_Feels apologetic, without exactly knowing why._
_Second S. M._ It's _my_ first visit, too. (_Sees no escape, and
resigns himself._) Er--we may as well go round together, eh?
_First S. M. (who was afraid this was coming--heartily)._ Good! By
the way, I always think, on a first visit, it's best to take a single
room, and do that thoroughly. [_This has only just occurred to him._
_Second S. M. (who had been intending to follow that plan himself)._
Oh, _do_ you? Now, for _my_ part, I don't attempt to see anything
_thoroughly_ the first time. Just scamper through, glance at the
things one oughtn't to miss, get a general impression, and come away.
_Then_, if I don't happen to come again, I've always _done_ it, you
see. But (_considerately_), look here. Don't let me drag you about, if
you'd rather not!
_First S. M._ Oh, but I shouldn't like to feel I was any tie on you.
Don't you mind about me. I shall potter about in here--for hours, I
daresay.
_Second S. M._ Ah, well (_with vague consolation_), I shall always
know where to _find_ you, I suppose.
_First S. M._ (_brightening visibly_). Oh dear, yes; _I_ shan't be far
away.
[_They part with mutual relief, only tempered by the necessity
of following the course they have respectively prescribed for
themselves. Nemesis overtakes the_ Second S. M. _in the next
Gallery, when he is captured by a Desultory Enthusiast, who
insists upon dragging him all over the place to see obscure
"bits" and "gems," which are only to be appreciated by ricking
the neck or stooping painfully_.
_A Suburban Lady (to Female Friend)._ Oh dear, _how_ stupid of me! I
_quite_ forgot to bring a pencil! Oh, _thank_ you, dear, that will do
_beautifully_. It's just a _little_ blunt; but so long as I can _mark_
with it, you know. You don't think we should avoid the crush if we
began at the end room? Well, perhaps it _is_ less confusing to begin
at the beginning, and work steadily through.
IN GALLERY NO. I.
_A small group has collected before_ Mr. WYLLIE'S "Davy
Jones's Locker," _which they inspect solemnly for some time
before venturing to commit themselves to any opinion_.
_First Visitor (after devoting his whole mind to the subject)._ Why,
it's the Bottom of the Sea--at least (_more cautiously_), that's what
it seems to be _intended_ for.
_Second V._ Ah, and very well done, too. I wonder, now, how he managed
to stay down long enough to paint all that?
_Third V._ Practice, I suppose. I've seen writing done under water
myself. But that was a tank!
_Fourth V. (presumably in profound allusion to the fishes and
sea-anemones)._ Well, they seem to be 'aving it all their own way down
there, don't they? [_The Group, feeling that this remark sums up the
situation, disperses._
_The Suburban Lady (her pencil in full play)._ No. 93. Now what's
_that_ about? Oh, "_Forbidden Sweets_,"--yes, to be sure. _Isn't_ that
charming? Those two dear little tots having their tea, and the kitten
with its head stuck in the jam-pot, and the label and all, and the
sticky spoon on the nursery table-cloth--so _natural_! I really _must_
mark that. (_Awards this distinction._) 97. "_Going up Top._" Yes,
_of course_. Look, LUCY dear, that little fellow has just answered a
question, and his master tells him he may go to the top of the class,
do you _see_? And the big boy looking so sulky, he's wishing he
had learnt his lesson better. I do think it's _so_ clever--all the
different expressions. Yes, I shall _certainly_ mark that!
IN GALLERY NO. II.
_The S. L. (doubtfully)._ H'm, No. 156. "_Cloud Chariots_"? Not very
_like_ chariots, though, _are_ they?
_Her Friend._ I expect it's one of those sort of pictures that you
have to look at a long time, and then things gradually come _out_ of
it, you know.
_The S. L._ It may be. (_Tries the experiment._) No, _I_ can't
make _anything_ come out--only just clouds and their reflections.
(_Struggling between good-nature and conscientiousness._) I _don't_
think I _can_ mark that.
IN GALLERY NO. III.
_A Matron (before_ Mr. DICKSEE'S "_Tannhaeuser_"). "_Venus and
Tannhaeuser_"--ah, and is that Venus on the stretcher? Oh, _that's_ her
all on fire in the background. Then which is Tannhaeuser, and what are
they all supposed to be doing? [_In a tone of irritation._
_Her Nephew._ Oh, it tells you all about it in the Catalogue--he meets
her funeral, you know, and leaves grow on his stick.
_The Matron (pursing her lips)._ Oh, a _dead person_.
[_Repulses the Catalogue severely and passes on._
_First Person, with an "Eye for Art" (before "Pysche's Bath," by the
President)._ Not bad, eh?
_Second Person, &c._ No, I rather like it. (_Feels that he is growing
too lenient._) He doesn't give you a very good idea of marble, though.
_First P. &c._ No--_that's_ not marble, and he always puts too many
folds in his drapery to suit _me_.
_First P. &c._ Just what _I_ always say. It's not natural, you know.
[_They pass on, much pleased with themselves and one another._
_A Fiance (halting before a sea-scape, by_ Mr. HENRY MOORE, _to
Fiancee_). Here, I say, hold on a bit--what's _this_ one?
_Fiancee (who doesn't mean to waste the whole afternoon over
pictures)._ Why, it's only a lot of waves--_come_ on!
_The Surburban L._ LUCY, _this_ is rather nice. "_Breakfasts for
the Porth!_" (_Pondering._) I think there must be a mistake in the
Catalogue--I don't see any breakfast things--they're cleaning fish,
and what's a "Porth!" Would you mark that--or not?
_Her Comp._ Oh, I _think_ so.
_The S. L._ I don't know. I've marked such a quantity already and
the lead won't hold out much longer. Oh, it's by HOOK, R. A. Then I
suppose it's _sure_ to be all right. I've marked it, dear.
_Duet by Two Dreadfully Severe Young Ladies, who paint a little on
China._ Oh, my _dear_, look at that. Did you ever see such a thing?
Isn't it too perfectly _awful_? And there's a thing! Do come and look
at this horror over here. A "_Study_," indeed. I should just think it
_was_! Oh, MAGGIE, don't be so satirical, or I shall die! No, but
_do_ just see this--isn't it _killing?_ They get worse and worse every
year, I declare! [_And so on._
IN GALLERY NO. V.
(_Two Prosaic Persons come upon a little picture, by_ Mr.
SWAN, _of a boy lying on a rock, piping to fishes._)
_First P. P._ _That's_ a rum thing!
_Second P. P._ Yes, I wasn't aware myself that fishes were so partial
to music.
_First P. P._ They may be--out there--(_perceiving that the boy is
unclad_)--but it's peculiar altogether--they look like herrings to me.
_Second P. P._ Yes--or mackerel. But (_tolerantly_) I suppose it's a
fancy subject. [_They consider that this absolves them from taking any
further interest in it, and pass on._
IN GALLERY NO. XI.
_An Old Lady (who judges Art from a purely Moral Standpoint, halts
approvingly before a picture of a female orphan)._ Now, that
really _is_ a nice picture, my dear--a plain black dress and white
cuffs--just what I _like_ to see in a young person!
_The S. L. (her enthusiasm greatly on the wane, and her temper
slightly affected)._ LUCY, I _wish_ you wouldn't worry so--it's quite
impossible to stop and look at _everything_. If you wanted your tea as
badly as _I_ do! Mark that one? What, when they neither of them have a
single _thing_ on! Never, LUCY,--and I'm surprised at your suggesting
it! Oh, you meant the next one? h'm--no, I _can't_ say I care for it.
Well, if I _do_ mark it, I shall only put a tick--for it really is
_not_ worth a cross!
COMING OUT.
_The Man who always makes the Right Remark._ H'm. Haven't seen
anything I could carry away with me.
_His Flippant Friend._ Too many people about, eh? Never mind, old
chap, you _may_ manage to sneak an umbrella down-stairs--_I_ won't say
anything!
[_Disgust of his companion, who descends stairs in offended
silence, as scene closes._
* * * * *
[Illustration: "EMBARRASSING!"]
* * * * *
IN THE KNOW.
(_By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet._)
I AM told that many of the millions who have read with delight the
brilliant sporting articles that have appeared from my pen week after
week expect me to utter a few words of seasonable advice as to the
chances of the various animals engaged in the Derby and the Oaks. If I
were one of the chowder-headed numskulls who cackle for hire, the task
would doubtless be an easy one. Mr. J. has performed it yearly with
that magnificent want of success which attends all his addle-pated
efforts. But, praise be to Heaven! I am not Mr. J., or one of his
crew. I am only a humble writer, distinguished alike for his unerring
sagacity, his undeviating accuracy, and his incisive force of
expression. My task is, therefore, stupendous, but I will perform it.
THE DERBY.
There are many horses in for the Derby. Some people fancy _Surefoot_.
Fancies are not, of course, facts, but the name is good. Keep your
eye on the black and cerise of LIDDIARD. _Sainfoin_ is not generally
supposed to cover grass, but there are generally exceptions. I have
not heard the angels calling _Le Nord_ lately, but they may begin at
any time. A man may get _home_, so may a horse, and I am bound to say
that if I were _The Beggar_ I should give the lie to the crack-brained
puddling proverb, and be a chooser of first place. _Bel Demonio_
should be all there when the first part of his name rings, so that
he may go like the second, if he wants to be one, two, or three.
_Rathbeal_ rhymes to heel. Has he got a clean pair to show? _Orwell_
should score well; and you must never, tie your _Garter_ too tightly,
unless you want to stop your circulation. _Golden Gate_ is not always
as open as might be wished; and _The Imp_ is sometimes a hindrance.
Good old _Polonius_! As for _Kirkham_, _Alloway_, _Martagon_, and
_Loup_, all I can say is, Mum's the word. How about the Field? Monkeys
are often made there. So much for the Derby.
THE OAKS.
Who said _Semolina_? Passion, passion take advice, fill your pockets
fall of _Semolina_. Ha, ha! _Signorina_ ought certainly not to miss
the mark by more than a mile. _Memoire_ might do _pour servir_,
and _Goldwing_ sounds well for a flyer. Those who cross the
_Ponza (sinorum)_ generally go further with ease, and _Dearest_ is
certainly superlative. The Field a monkey. Who said that? Whoever he
was, let him beware! That is all I have to say in the meantime, but
anyone desiring further information is requested to apply to me by
letter at the office, enclosing twelve clean stamps for a reply.
All who are not in a state of niddy-noddying, anserous, asinine,
gruel-brained, pumpkin-faced, gooseberry-eyed imbecility, will, of
course, do so.
* * * * *
[Illustration: PROFESSOR TYNDALL'S LATEST PORTRAIT OF MR. C.,
_Executed with Scientific Accuracy and Considerable Restraint of Tone.
(Guildford, May 28.)_]
* * * * *
A Shaftesbury Song.
(AIR--_"With a Doodah!" as sung years ago, with great
applause, by_ Mr. W. E. GL-DST-NE.)
OUR Author JONES has come out strong
With a _Judah_! With a _Judah_!
Original drama, three Acts long,
_Judah! Judah!_ pay!
It's bound to run each night,
And many a _Matinee_.
I'll lay my money on the WILLARD nag.
Ev'ryone will see the play.
* * * * *
"EMBARRASSING!"
_Or, The Political Scipio and the East African Charmer._
"Though the topic of Africa is said to be 'embarrassing and
inconvenient,' it need not occasion any uneasiness at all;
but if the British Government surrenders any portion of the
territory reserved for the sphere of British influence, it may
become most terribly embarrassing within a measurable period
of time."--_Stanley's Reply to Lord Salisbury._
STANLEY, _loquitur_:--
HISTORY repeats itself! Perhaps it may do,
But "with a difference." The moral Sages
Think that if anyone holds wisdom, _they_ do;
But not all sense is stored in pedant's pages.
Historic parallels, from PLUTARCH downwards,
Are rather pretty fancies than realities.
I am no book-worm, have no leanings gownwards.
And set small store by moralist's banalities.
To pose as SCIPIO, that pudent Roman,
So praised by pedagogue POLYBIUS, seemingly
Pleases a Tory Premier. Well, our foeman
Won't slumber whilst _we_ choose to doze on dreamingly.
SCIPIO at New Carthage was a hero
Of virgin virtue and high generosity;
But hopes in Africa will fall to zero,
If "policy" means virtuous pomposity.
The chaste Proconsul turned his visage blushingly,
From what with him was personal temptation;
But what's good rule for one will fall quite crushingly
If 'tis adopted by a mighty nation.
SCIPIO, no doubt, was splendid in his modest
And generous dealings with those Spanish hostages;
But SALISBURY-SCIPIO? Picture of the oddest!
Imperial rule is not all Penny Postages,
Dainty diplomacies, generous concessions
To Teuton tastes and Hohenzollern fancies;
Or faith in bland CAPRIVI'S fine professions,
And wandering WEISSMANN'S roseate romances.
Kilimi-Njaro, Masai-Land, the Congo,
Should satisfy your thirst for abnegation;
And now, methinks, dear Lord, you cannot wrong go,
If you go in for--let's say "exploitation."
SCIPIO the Elder was not given to letting
The Carthaginians get too much the best of him.
Now on the Teuton it is even betting;
To squeeze you north, or south, or east, or west of him.
Out of the Congo State on the west border,
Out of the Southern Soudan on his north one!
By Jove, my Lord, that seems a biggish order!
To stop it needs some struggle, and 'tis worth one.
That poor East African Company's affronted,
While Iron-clads and soldiers help the Teuton.
_Must_ they then be from the Nyanza shunted,
And _must_ I all their miseries be mute on,
Because plain speech is what you call "embarrassing."
Because unto the Teuton you're so tender?
Must Englishmen in Africa stand harassing,
And stoop to a calm policy of Surrender,
And all that a proud Premier at Hatfield
May play the SCIPIO--in this feeble fashion?
My Lord, we did not win our spurs in _that_ field.
Upon my soul, it puts me in a passion;
And not me only, but, as you'll discover,
A lot of Englishmen who watch this drama.
SCIPIO was not an indiscriminate lover,
But it was he licked HANNIBAL at Zama.
I bring you, SCIPIO, the East Afric beauty
Captured and chained, but opulent and charming.
You turn away! From sacred sense of duty?
From fear of your (political) virtue harming?
No! SCIPIO seemed ruled by honour's laws
When to the captured beauty he was lenient,
You turn away, sham SCIPIO, because
She seems "embarrassing and inconvenient!"
* * * * *
BEER.
[Messrs. SPIERS AND POND say in a letter in _The Daily
Telegraph_, that "bottled beer is really what the great
majority of the public want when they are out for a holiday."]
MENTION not the wines of Medoc, nor the vintage of Bordeaux,
Or the Burgundy that rivals e'en the ruby in its flow;
Though the growers of Epernay and the merry men of Rheims,
Pour champagne that holds the sunlight in exhilarating streams;
There's a finer nobler tipple, that the Briton's heart doth cheer,
And he clings with fond affection to his draught or bottled beer.
Amber Rudesheimer charms us wandering by the haunted Rhine,
Sparkling Hock near Ehrenbreitstein is a mighty pleasant wine;
In agreement with the German we have vowed we loved full well,
To behold the bubbles flashing on a goblet of Moselle;
But the Briton hugs his tankard, and would count the man an ass
Who held not in highest honour nectar from the vats of BASS.
Port is worthy of acceptance, once men made the bottle spin;
Sherry hath a welcome flavour when the filberts have come in:
Scotsmen have been seen imbibing in the mountains of the north,
What is known as whiskey-toddy in the lands beside the Forth:
But the Englishmen will tell you that for really sterling worth--
BASS'S beer can beat all liquids that were ever made on earth.
* * * * *
THE BITTER CRY OF THE LONDON RIDER HAGGARD AND JADED.
[Illustration]
_To the Chief Commissioners of Works, The Ditto of Police, and to
"George" Ranger._
WHY not open up rides in Kensington Gardens? Say one good one under
the trees from South-West to North-West, and connect Kensington with
Bayswater? Will any benefactor to unfortunate Metropolitan Equestrians
force this North-West passage?
There is a meagre ride at the side of the road in the Inner
Circle, Regent's Park. Why not a good ride right across Park? From
considerable observation and experience of Kensington Gardens and
Regent's Park, it may be confidently asserted, that such rides as are
here proposed, would not interfere with the comfort of a single (or
married) nurse or governess with children in her charge. Both places
are comparatively unfrequented, and the proposed rides would not
infringe upon the recreation of the London boys.
We strongly recommend the Chief Commissioner to visit Paris, and,
mounted upon a comfortable horse, let him make the acquaintance of the
delightful _sentiers_ laid out as rides in the Bois de Boulogne. This
will be a first-rate French exercise for him, and he will learn a
great deal from it. The DUKE, who is fond of equitation, especially
in Battersea Park, must admit that the equestrians of London are very
badly off for variety. Up and down Rotten Row, once into the siding by
the Barracks, once to the dismal ride on the North side, and once back
again by the ride that opens on to the Mausoleum-like Magazine,--which
of all London Magazines is the dreariest,--this, and only this, is the
daily burden of the patient London rider's song. "How long? How long?"
as Mr. WILSON BARRETT used to be always exclaiming in _The Silver
King_, or _Claudian_, or both. How long--will mounted London put up
with this, which is the reverse of a merry-go-round?
Then we have to be thankful for the small mercy of a narrow strip of a
ride, barely room for one, along Constitution Hill, and for that other
strip, a trifle wider, in Birdcage Walk, which is always crowded with
children, and one might as well be riding through nursery grounds. Why
shouldn't there be here a cut right across the grass, from The Walk of
the Birdcages to middle of Piccadilly?
If GEORGE RANGER, the Chief Commissioner of Police, and the Chief of
the Board of Works would combine, we might get something done which
would benefit the riders--riders haggard and jaded--and materially
assist the smallest circulation (possessed by those who ride to live)
in the world. There is one thing that ought to be put down, and put
down with a strong hand,--and that is plenty of gravel at all the
gates; but especially round and about the Marble Arch, which is a most
dangerously slippery pass.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE "SILK" EXHIBITION.
WHAT OUR ARTIST EXPECTED TO FIND THERE.]
* * * * *
RAILWAY UNPUNCTUALITY REPORT;
_Or, What it may probably come to._
THAT the new Legislation has begun to tell favourably on the conduct
of the traffic of the leading lines cannot for a moment be doubted
after glancing at the thirteenth Bi-weekly Record, published at the
Companies' expense, according to the Provisions of the recent Act, on
the back of all their passenger-tickets. It is satisfactory to note
how, in something like six weeks, punctuality in the train service
seems really almost established, the only train arriving one minute
late being one of the Edinburgh Expresses, of which the boiler of the
engine blew up at Grantham, thereby causing a little delay, which,
however, was picked up before the conclusion of the run by extra
steaming. The heavy penal system which the new Legislation has
introduced, is, of course, answerable for this delightful change; but
a glance at the following table for the six weeks since the Act has
come into operation, will show how effectively and rapidly it has
worked:--
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Trains Chairmen Directors Station Other
late. put sentenced Masters Officials
in Irons. to Penal sentenced sent
Servitude. to Hard to Gaol
Labour. and Fined.
--------------------------------------------------------------
First week | 1725 | 9 | 95 | 192 | 2004
Second, Do. | 3 | 1 | 3 | 17 | 143
Third, Do. | 2 | .. | 2 | 11 | 88
Fourth, Do. | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 15
Fifth, Do. | .... | .. | 1[A] | .. | ..
Sixth, Do. | 1 | 1 | 2 | 5 | 10
--------------------------------------------------------------
[Footnote A: Precautionary sentence.]
The list of officials, as furnished in the above Schedule, undergoing
their various periods of punishment, is an encouraging sign to the
travelling public, and it is satisfactory to notice that the old
unpunctuality that marked the first week, followed up as it was _by a
rigorous application of the new law_, instantly disappeared as if
by magic, when the Companies began really to understand their
responsibilities and their penalties under the new Act. It is
confidently, therefore, to be hoped, that next week's record may
possibly be an entirely clean one, and that, _the only method of
ensuring punctuality_, namely, the infliction of a penalty on the
Authorities who can control it, may be found in practice to be
entirely successful.
* * * * *
SUGGESTION GRATIS.--Why doesn't some enterprising publisher engage
Sergeant PALMER of the 19th Knowles's Century Powder Magazine to
write a Military Romance? There has been nothing of the sort worth
mentioning since CHARLES LEVER. The Sergeant could write under the
_nom de guerre_ of _Micky Free, Redivivus_.
(_Signed_) BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.
* * * * *
_Q._ If several Householders who love peace and quietness on Sunday,
should combine to put down the Salvation Army's so-called singing,
what Mountains would they resemble?--_A._ The Hymn Allayers.
* * * * *
THE OPERA-GOER'S DIARY.
[Illustration: Marguerite Nordica Slybootzen coming home from church.]
_Monday, May 26._--Faust. Faust-rate performance as far as JACK and
NED DE RESZKE are concerned. Madame NORDICA is far too knowing a
_Marguerite_. The simple _Faust_, just beginning life, is evidently
no match for this guileless young lady. Being "no match for her"
is probably the reason for his not marrying her. NORDICA charming
vocally, but dramatically there is too much of the _Becky Sharp_ about
her, and she is merely in a plot with _Martha_ to let in the rich and
spoony Juggins called _Faust_. New man, FRANCESCHETTI, as _Valentine_,
not quite the thing: perhaps nervous seeing DAN DRADY in front looking
at him. Good house for Whit Monday, though of course The Brilliancies
are absent. Choruses excellent. What capital match-boxes the old
men in the Old Men's Chorus would make! Good contrast between Mlle.
BAUERMEISTER as _Martha_, and NED DE R. as _Mephistopheles_.
_Tuesday._--Glorious Opera, _Les Huguenots_; French title with Italian
names, such as _Valentina_, _Margherita di Valois_, _Urbano_,
&c. First appearance of Monsieur Ybos. _Why Boss?_ Always thought
DRURIOLANUS was Boss of this Show. Better change name to _Y-not-bos_,
and the answer will come from DRURIOLANUS himself, "Iboss." Monsieur
YBOS belongs to the school of Signor VIBRATO. Energetic but too angry
with _Valentina_, when she confesses that she loves him. ELLA RUSSELL
magnificent as sleeveless _Queen_. NED DE RESZKE the best possible
_Marcello_. As DRURIOLANUS, dropping into poetry, observes--
He is the very best _Marcello_,
With a voice like the deepest violoncello.
Monsieur DUFRICHE as _San Bris_, "quite the _brie_," or cheese. Madame
TETRAZZINI a dramatic _Valentina_. DAN DRADY a first-rate _Conte di
Nevers-too-late-to-mend_. Curfew-Watchman in perfect tune. Soldiers'
rataplanatory chorus very nearly perfection at finish, though starting
shakily. Little PALLADINO danced so delightfully as even to bewitch
the Hug-me-not soldiers. I've seen this Opera any number of times, and
I have been at considerable trouble and expense to master the plot.
An idea strikes me. I shall publish _Examination Papers on Popular
Operas_. What the prize will be for the one who answers correctly from
memory, without reference to any _libretto_, is a matter for further
consideration. Here is a specimen of examination paper on the
_Huguenots_:--
ACT I.--Why is _Raoul_ blindfolded?
What is _Miss Valentine_ doing in somebody else's house?
Why does _Raoul's_ servant come in and sing a hymn?
Why is he apparently pleased when _Raoul_ is blindfolded and taken
away?