* * * * *
"COMBINING AMUSEMENT WITH INSTRUCTION."
(_A SKETCH AT THE COLLECTION OF INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE._)
SCENE--_The Maddox Street Galleries. A large and appropriately
lighted room. Upon walls of a sombre crimson, various
Implements of Torture are arranged with considerable taste,
and an eye for decorative effect, the central space being
reserved for more elaborate contrivances in wood and iron.
Visitors discovered inspecting the Exhibition by the aid of
the excellent Catalogues, with the subdued appreciation of
persons conscious that they are spending a very pleasant and
profitable afternoon._
_Mr. Charnelhouse Goole_ (_as he enters, to Mrs. C.G._). Now, my dear,
the first thing I want to see is that Iron Maiden there's so much talk
about. I wonder whereabouts it is!
_Mrs. C.G._ I think _that_ must be it, up at the other end of the
room. But don't you _think_, dear, it would be nicer to see the
_other_ things first, and keep that for the _last_?
_Mr. C.G._ (_struck by the refinement of this suggestion_). Well,
upon, my word, AMINA, I almost think it would!
_Mr. Frederic Frivell_ (_to his wife, whom he takes a marital pleasure
in shocking_). What fun those old fellows must have had in those days,
mustn't they?
_Mrs. Frivell_ (_a serious lady_). I don't think fun is at _all_ the
right word, FREDERIC. I do _wish_ you wouldn't take these things so
lightly. I'm sure it's melancholy enough to look at all these horrid
machines, and think--
_Mr. F._ That Torture is a lost art? Isn't that what you were going to
say? But it's _not_, you know; we've refined it--that's all. Look at
the Photographer, and the Interviewer, and the Pathetic Reciter, and
the--
[_Mrs. F. endeavours to convince him that she didn't mean that
at all, and that he is comparing totally different things._
_An Aphoristic Uncle_ (_to an irreverent Nephew_). No. 89. "A
Long-spiked Wooden Roller, known as a 'Spiked Hare.'" You see, TOM,
my boy, the victim was--(_Describes the process._) "Some of the old
writers describe this torture as being most fearful," so the Catalogue
tells us.
_Tom-my-boy_ (_after inspecting the spikes_). Well, do you know,
Uncle, I shouldn't be at all surprised if the old Johnnies weren't so
far out.
_The Aph. Uncle._ Another illustration, my boy, of "Man's inhumanity
to Man"!
_Tom-my-boy._ Not bad for you, Uncle--only you cribbed it out of the
Catalogue, you know! [_The A.U. gives him up._
_An Indulgent Parent enters, leading a small boy in a tall
hat, and is presently recognised by the A.U._
_The A.U._ So you've brought your son to see this collection,
hey? Well, it's of the greatest educational value to a thoughtful
youth--rich in moral and historical instruction!
_The I.P._ Well, it was like this, you see. I had to take him to the
dentist's, and, finding we should have half-an-hour or so to spare
before he could attend to him, I thought we'd just drop in here and
amuse ourselves--eh, BOBBY? Wonderfully ingenious, you know, in
their way, some of these things! Now, _here's_ a thing--"A Spanish
mouth-pear, made of iron." You see, BOBBY, they forced it into the
mouth and touched a screw, and it sprang open, preventing the victim
from screaming.
_Bobby_. Y-yes, father. Should you think Mr. Fawcepps will have one of
those?
_The I.P._ (_annoyed_). Now, what _is_ the use of my taking you to a
place of this sort to divert your thoughts, if your mind is running
on something else all the time? I won't have it, do you hear. Enjoy
yourself like a sensible boy!
_Bobby_. Y-yes, Father, I am. It--it's quite cured my toothache
already--_really_ it has!
_Mrs. Frivell_ (_reading from Catalogue_). "A Penitent's Girdle, made
of barbed wire, which, when worn next to the flesh, caused the most
unpleasant and uncomfortable irritation." Oh, FREDERIC, just fancy
that!
_Mr. F._ My dear CECILIA, I can _quite_ fancy it!
_Mrs. F._ But I thought these tortures were only for _Malefactors_.
Why do they call it a _Penitent's_ Girdle?
_Mr. F._ Can't say,--unless because he generally repented having put
it on.
_Mrs. F._ I don't think that _can_ be the real reason.
_Two English House-maids_ (_to a small German Page-Boy who is
escorting them_). Here, JOHNNIE, what's _this_ mean? (_Reads from
Catalogue the motto on an Executioner's Sword._) "Di Herrin' sturin
dem Unheel ick exequire ir End Urthile." Come, _you_ ought to know!
_Johnnie_ (_not unnaturally at a loss_). It means--it means--somding I
do not understandt.
_The Housemaids_ (_disappointed in him_). Well, you _are_ a boy! I
_did_ think, bein' German yourself, you'd be quite at _'ome_ 'ere!
_Mr. Ernest Stodgely_ (_impressively, to Miss FEATHERHEAD, his
fiancée_). Just look at this, FLOSSIE. (_Reading._) "Executioner's
Cloak, very long, of red woollen material; presumably red so as not to
show blood-spots or stains." Hideously suggestive that, is it not?
_Miss Flossie._ I shouldn't call it exactly _hideous_, ERNEST. Do
you know, I was just thinking that, with a high Astrachan collar, you
know, and old silver fastenings, it would make rather a nice winter
cloak. So deliciously warm! [_ERNEST avails himself of a lover's
privileges to lecture her severely._