[Illustration: "A Guy in Spectacles and a Tall Hat."]
The proceedings of the Midnight Mass Meeting of Unemployed Guys
at Vauxhall on the fifth of November were of a somewhat disorderly
nature, several of the speeches being characterised by a distinctly
incendiary tone, as will be seen from the following account by _Mr.
Punch's_ Special Reporter, who was present throughout.
The Chair-guy (whose appearance was comparatively respectable) said he
was proud to occupy the chair--notwithstanding that the bottom was out
of it. (_Shame!_) Oh. he was used to that, although he could tell the
meeting he had driven his own donkey-cart once upon a time, if he had
come down to a wheelbarrow now! (_Cries of "Toff!" and "Aristocrat!"
from the more extreme Guys._) He did not understand those expressions
of disapproval--a wheelbarrow with one leg missing was surely an
unostentatious conveyance enough. Well, they had met that evening
to discuss the means to be taken to obviate the depression in the
important branch of out-door industry in which, if he did not mistake,
they were all interested. (_Hear, hear!_) That such depression
existed, and was on the increase, there was, unhappily, no doubt--it
was becoming more and more difficult, as they knew without his telling
them, for the steadiest Guy to maintain himself in a proper position,
without extraneous support. He knew, for a fact, that there were
hundreds of Guys at that very moment who, when their present job was
over, would find themselves--through no fault of their own--thrown out
of employment for another twelvemonth, at least. Did they call _that_
justice? (_No! and groans._) The whole system was iniquitous--the
question was, how they were to put a stop to it. He invited
suggestions from the Audience.
A Guy said that, in his opinion, their decline was entirely due to
their inability to supply themselves with the apparel necessary and
suitable to their calling. What were their duties? Why, to keep alive
the memory of their famous Founder, the author of the great, and
never-to-be-forgotten Gunpowder Plot--he need hardly say he alluded
to GUIDO FAWKES! (_Enthusiastic and prolonged cheering._) He was no
scholar himself--he had never enjoyed a University education--and he
did not pretend to be an authority on historical costume. Still, he
felt safe in asserting that a Guy who, like himself, was compelled to
represent their glorious Predecessor in an old tail coat, a pair of
baggy tweed trousers, and a pot hat with a hole through the crown,
did so under a cruel disadvantage. He had heard that, in former times,
every Guy was sent out provided, as a matter of course, with a dark
lantern and a box of matches. Who ever saw a Guy so equipped nowadays?
They had been robbed of the very implements of their trade by the
grasping greed of their so-called superiors. (_Shame!_) In his opinion
every Guy had a right to be furnished with the correct costume of
the period--whatever that might be--at the public expense. (_Loud
cheers._)
A Guy in a Cocked Hat said he did not think the previous speaker had
mentioned the real cause of their fallen fortunes--their _clothes_
were right enough; they had to thank their own shortsighted policy for
their present position--yes, he was there to speak plainly, as Guy
to Guy, and he told them that it was nothing short of social suicide
for a Guy to carry about a placard, such as he saw too many of them
wearing that evening, inscribed with the name of a recent murderer
or some other popular but ephemeral favourite. (_Some murmuring._)
_That_ was not the way to preserve the name and fame of their revered
Chief. No; let every Guy be true to himself and his order, let him
indignantly refuse to sully his descent by such vulgar and unworthy
devices, and then--(_Uproar, amidst which the Speaker was compelled to
resume his seat._)
A Guy in a Blue Mask, who carried a placard bearing the name of
the Ex-Premier, described the remarks of both his brother Guys as
pestilent drivel. It was not clothes that made the Guy. A Guy was a
Guy in any guise! (_Loud cheers._) But no Guy ever rose in the world
yet without combustibles of some sort inside him, and how many of
them ever knew what it was to get their fill of crackers? They were
starving amidst an abundance of squibs! Society was responsible, and
must be forced to do its duty. He had had enough of it, he meant to
get a good blow-out before he was much older, he could tell them, and
if the Government refused to provide it free, he must loot a firework
factory, that was all--he was ready to lead the way--if they would
follow! (_Applause._)
A Guy in a Yellow Mask said he was in favour of proceeding by
peaceable and constitutional methods if possible. Much could be done
by organising and bringing their grievances before Parliament, with
a view to remedial legislation. They might begin by agitating for
the Franchise. "One Guy, one vote!" would be a popular cry just now,
when some Electoral Reforms were believed to be in contemplation.
Fortunately they had a Home Secretary whom they might reasonably hope
to find sympathetic--he thought they should ascertain his views before
taking any other steps.
A Guy in a Pink Mask said he had organised till he was sick of it. As
for the Home Secretary, he happened to have headed a deputation to
the Home Office that very afternoon--and what did the Meeting think
was the result? Why, the Home Secretary had declined to receive him!
(_Shame!_) Ah, he might call himself a Radical--but did he treat a Guy
as a Man and a Brother? Did he recognise that, creatures of rags and
shavings as they were, they had their feelings? Not he! they were all
alike, these politicians, directly they got into office. How long, he
asked them, were Guys to be chivied, and harried, and moved along into
back-streets by the brutal minions of a corrupt middle-class? If they
wanted to get their rights, they must make themselves a nuisance to
the Authorities, like other people. It was all very fine to talk about
the Franchise, and "One Guy, one vote!" and all the rest of it, but
they all knew that Home Rule blocked the way at present. They must go
to Trafalgar Square in their thousands; it was the finest place for a
bonfire in all London, and they had been kept out of it long enough.
_He_ meant to go, if he had to be carried there! (_Loud cheers._)
A Guy in Spectacles and a Tall Hat, said that a demonstration in
the Square would, no doubt, be an excellent way of drawing public
attention to their wrongs. He advised that when they had succeeded
in capturing the Square, they should proceed to pass a resolution
calling upon the London County Council to find instant and permanent
employment for such Guys as were out of work. (_Cheers._) They could
do it easily enough if they liked, and he would tell them how. All
over London, nay, in the very Square itself, there were innumerable
pedestals at present usurped by Statues which were a disgrace to the
Metropolis. All the Council had to do was to remove those Statues from
positions they had so long abused, and promote the most deserving and
destitute Guys to fill their places. (_Uproar._)
A Guy in Fustian and a Red Comforter rose excitedly to protest against
the last speaker's proposals, which he declared were an insult to
their common Guyhood. They might have come down in the world, but
hitherto, whatever might be said of them, they had, at least, never
rendered themselves publicly ridiculous. Now they were asked to
degrade themselves by accepting the ignominious position of London
Statues! Was there a Guy who would ever hold up his head again, after
such an infamous surrender of his self-respect and independence?
He felt it his duty to denounce the Guy who was guilty of such a
suggestion as a wolf, in sheep's clothing, a base traitor to his
order, and a paid spy!
[_Intense excitement; charges and countercharges, and vain
attempts by the Chair-guy to restore order. Several Guys,
unable to control their indignation any longer, exploded, and
the Meeting finally dispersed without attempting to pass any
resolution, amidst a scene of indescribable confusion._
* * * * *
A PATRON OF THE GAIETY THEATRE AND MODERN VARIETY EXTRAVAGANZA
SHOW ANTICIPATED BY CHARLES DICKENS.--"There's a lot of feet in
SHAKSPEARE's verse, but there ain't any legs worth mentioning in
SHAKSPEARE's Plays. * * * What the people call dramatic poetry is a
collection of sermons. Do I go to the theatre to be lectured? No,
PIP. If I wanted that, I'd go to church. What's the legitimate object
of the Drama, PIP? Human nature. What are legs? Human nature. Then
let us have plenty of leg-pieces, PIP, and I'll stand by you, my
buck!"--_Martin Chuzzlewit_.
N.B.--This is the Pip of our puzzle to Dickensian Students last week.
The reference, chapter and verse, was given immediately by Mr. COMYNS
CARR, who, on the spot received his reward, and went away rejoicing.
We regret that there are no second and third prizes, otherwise Messrs.
WALTER WREN and VAN TROMP would have been "placed."--ED.
* * * * *