Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 109, July 13, 1895 online

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assistants, and trade was never known to be brisker during the present

_Crowncrushington._ - This will be a very near contest. As political
feeling runs rather high, a number of extra beds have been prepared in
the hospitals. The police have been reinforced, and the military are
close at hand, and every other preparation has been made to secure the
declaration of the poll with as little friction as possible.

_Meddle-cum-Muddleborough._ - At present there are seven candidates,
but as three of these have issued their manifestoes under some
misapprehension it is not unlikely that the number will be reduced
before the day of nomination. It is not easy to foretell the result, as
since the establishment of the ballot every election has ended not only
in surprise but stupefaction.

_Selfseekington._ - It is not unlikely that there will be no contest
in this important borough. The (until recently) sitting member has
fixed the day that would naturally have fallen to the function of the
returning officer for the laying of the foundation stones of his Baths,
Wash-houses, Free Library and Town Hall, and the opening of his Public

_Wrottenborough._ - The popular candidate has pledged himself to
supporting Local Veto, the Licensed Victuallers, Establishment,
Disestablishment, Home Rule, the Integrity of the Empire,
Anti-Vaccination, the Freedom of the Medical Profession, and many other
matters of conflicting importance. The polling will be of a perfunctory
character, as expenses are being cut down on both sides.

_Zany-town-on-the-Snooze._ - There will be no contest in this division.
At present there is no intelligence of any sort to chronicle.

* * * * *

magic of a name."

* * * * *


Ere these lines can appear, the _Two Gentlemen of Verona_ and their
two Ladies will have vanished from Daly's Theatre like the baseless
fabric of a dream, leaving, however, a very pleasant recollection of
the play in the minds of all who saw it - and a great many did, for
SHAKSPEARE'S _Two Gents_ is a dramatic curiosity. Prettily
put on the stage as it was, with good music, picturesque costumes
and clever acting, it will dwell in our memories as an exceptionally
attractive revival.

Mr. GEORGE CLARKE, the "stern parient," appeared as something
between a Doge and a Duke, and equally good as either, you bet; that
is, "'lowing," as _Uncle Remus_ has it, that either Doge or Duke
has passed the greater part of his life in the United States. Mr.
FRANK WORTHING (nice seasidey name on a hot night in town)
a gentlemanly-villainous _Proteus_, and Mr. JOHN CRAIG an
equally gentlemanly-virtuous _Valentine_. So "Gents both" are disposed
of. Mr. _James Lewis_, as _Launce_, playing "the lead" to his dog, put
into the part new humour in place of the old which has evaporated by
fluxion of time. _Launce's_ sly dog, very original; part considerably

[Illustration: The Duke discovers the rope-ladder under Valentine's

"The Rope Trick exposed."]

I see that a descendant of TYRONE POWER appears as "Mine
Host." I did not gather from his costume that he was "a host in
himself," but thought he was a Venetian Judge or retired Doge; the
latter surmise receiving some confirmation from the fact that, while
the singing was going on, he, being somnolent, "doge'd" (as _Mrs.
Gamp_ would say) in his chair. Sleeping or waking his was a dignified
performance. Miss ELLIOT a graceful _Sylvia_, who, as a
Milanese brunette, is artistically contrasted with Miss ADA
REHAN, of Florentine fairness, as _Julia_. All that is wanting
to this sketchy character Miss REHAN fills in, and makes the
design a finished picture. Improbable that _Proteus_ should never
recognize _Julia_ when disguised as a boy until she herself reveals her
identity. However, it was a very early work of WILLIAM'S: mere
child's play.

* * * * *

[Illustration: Miss Rehan as Julia.

"The Third Page in her Life."]

* * * * *

The most Clement of critics, our learned and ever amiable Scotus of
the _Daily Telegraph_, speaking with authority from his column last
Saturday, recalls to us how many English actors and actresses have
successfully played in French on the Parisian stage, and adds to the
list the name of MARIE HALTON, who, excellent both in singing
and acting as _La Cigale_ at the Lyric, will soon appear at a new
theatre in Paris, where she is to "create" French _rôles_ - which,
Mlle. MARIE, is a very pleasant way of making your bread. But
if we have in this actress an English _Chaumont_, why does not some
such astute manager as Mr. EDWARDES, the Universal Theatre
Provider, induce HALTON to Stay on - here, not only for her own
"benefit," but for that of the Light Opera-loving public.


* * * * *

[Illustration: TRUE HYPERBOLE.

_He._ "What a lovely Frock!... _Worth_, I suppose?" _She._

_He._ "Ah! it _looks_ as if it came from Heaven!"]

* * * * *


["The impending Dissolution brings into its practical and final
form the prospective farewell which I addressed last year to the
constituency of Midlothian." - _Mr. Gladstone's Farewell Letter to the
Electors of Midlothian._]

AIR - _Burns's "The Farewell."_

It was a' for our Glorious Cause
I sought fair Scotland's strand;
It was a' for fair, rightfu' laws
To bless the Irish land,
My dear;
To bless the Irish land.

Now a' is done that man could do,
And a' seems done in vain,
My loved Midlothian, farewell,
I mauna stand again,
My dear;
I canna stand again.

For fifteen lang an' happy years,
That ne'er may be forgot,
We have foregathered, loved, and fought.
Fare farther I may not,
My dear;
Fare farther may I not.

Yet say not that our love has failed,
Or that our battle's lost;
Were I yet young I'd fight again,
And never count the cost,
My dear;
And never count the cost.

Tegither we've won mony a fight,
You following where I led;
But now late Winter's chilling snows
Are gatherin' round my head,
My dear;
Are gatherin' round my head.

And times will change, and Chieftains pass.
Lang time I've borne the brunt
Of war; and now I'm glad to see
CARMICHAEL to the front,
My dear;
Sir TAMMY to the front.

A champion stout, I mak nae doubt,
He'll carry on my task.
To see ye braw and doing weel,
Henceforth is a' I ask.
My dear;
Henceforth is a' I ask.

True Scot am I - Midlothian's heart
I won. Now I fare far,
And leave a younger chieftain, TAM,
To lead the Lowland war,
My dear;
To lead the Lowland war!

* * *

He turned him right and round about
Upon the Scottish shore.
He gae his bonnet plume a shake,
With "Adieu for evermore,
My dear;
Adieu for evermore!

"ROSEBERY will from fight return,
Wi' loss or else wi' gain;
But I am parted from my love,
Never to meet again,
My dear;
Never to meet again.

"When day is gone, and night is come,
A' folk are fain to rest;
I'll think on thee, though far awa',
While pulse throbs in this breast,
My dear;
While pulse throbs in my breast!"

* * * * *


SMITH, ELDER & CO. are carrying out a happy thought in
projecting what they call the Novel Series, a title which is the least
felicitous part of the business. It is designed to meet the views of
those who desire to possess, not to borrow (or indeed to steal) good
books. The volumes will not be too large to be carried in the pocket,
nor too small to lie on the shelf. Neatly bound, admirably printed,
they are to cost from two shillings up to four shillings, presumably
according to length and the inclusion of illustrations. The series
leads off with _The Story of Bessie Costrell_, by Mrs. HUMPHRY
WARD. The story, if not precisely pleasant, is decidedly powerful.
Once taken up, there is uncontrollable disposition to read on to the
end, a yearning the size of the volume makes it possible conveniently
to satisfy. The new series starts with a promise announcements of
succeeding contributions seem likely to fulfil.


* * * * *

New Carillon at the Royal Exchange.

The tunes are admirably selected. First air every morning, "I know a
Bank," to be known as "The Morning Air."

_For Panic Days._ - "Oh dear, what can the matter be!"

_Bad Business Days._ - "Nae luck about 'the House.'"

_Good Business._ - "Here we go up, up, up!"

_South African Market Chorus._ - "Mine for Evermore!"

This scheme of arrangement is to be generally known as "_The Bells'

* * * * *

[Illustration: "ARE YOU READY?"

(S-L-SB-RY _and_ R-S-B-RY _starting the Bicyclist
Competitors_ B-LF-R _and_ H-RC-RT.)]

* * * * *


A REAL UNCROWNED KING. - At a meeting of the Town Commissioners
of Kinsale, a report of the proceedings discloses a conversation of a
truly remarkable kind -

"The Chairman thought that if they paid Mr. PUNCH his
quarter's salary up to the 1st February they would be dealing very
fairly with him, especially as they had appointed his son as his
successor.... Messrs. KIELY and P. S. O'CONNOR
contended that as Mr. PUNCH was never dismissed by them, and
the non-performance of his duties was through no fault of his own, he
was entitled to some remuneration."

We should think he was, indeed! _Some_ remuneration, quotha? Does
not the mere fact that he bears a name honoured and revered in every
corner of the globe entitle him to a pension on the very highest
scale known to the L. G. B.? Not, we need hardly say, an "old age"
pension. Perpetual youth is the prerogative of all PUNCHES.
And they "have appointed his son as his successor." Well, of course!
How can a PUNCH do anything but succeed? He would be a rum
PUNCH if he didn't! Greetings to our distant kinsman of

* * * * *




* * * * *

ONE MAN, ONE TOPPER! - In the _Glasgow Herald_ somebody writes
as follows: -

"It is surely time Mr. DUNCAN saw to his bus-drivers' hats!
Such a miscellaneous collection of seedy hats, I think, could not be
found elsewhere; they are a positive disgrace to the city."

The writer ought to have signed himself "MACBETH;" the
"unguarded DUNCAN," whoever he may be, must be on his guard,
or passengers will strike for better hats. All bus-drivers and
conductors should wear silk hats, to typify the habitual softness of
their address. Why not put them into livery at once? The company that
did that would probably attract no end of custom. No revolution like
it, since the abolition of the box-seat! Uniform charges and uniformed
conductors should be the future rule of the road.

* * * * *

"NOT KILT, BUT SPACHELESS." - At Clonakilty Sessions the other
day, the following evidence was given: -

"PATRICK FEEN was examined, and stated he resided at
Dunnycove, parish of Ardfield.... Gave defendant's brother a blow of
his open hand and knocked him down for fun, and out of friendship.

What a good-natured, open-handed friend Mr. PATRICK FEEN must
be! JOHN HEGARTY, the person assaulted, corroborated the
account, and added, -

"When he was knocked down, he stopped there. (_Laughter._)"

In fact, he "held the field," and "remained in possession of the
ground." Who will now say that the old humour is dying out in Erin?

* * * * *

TRISTRAM! TRISTRAM! TRISTRAM!" * * "And pray which way is this
affair of TRISTRAM at length settled by these learned men?"

_"Toby" to Yorick._

* * * * *

What a nice dish for lunch would be what we find mentioned in the
Racing Order of the Day, _i.e._ "_Plate of 150 sous_." Excellent! To be
washed down with a draught of Guineas stout!

* * * * *



BRIGGS was the gayest dog in Balliol. If there was a bonfire
in the quad, and if the dons found their favourite chairs smouldering
in the ashes, BRIGGS was at the bottom of it. If the bulldogs
were led a five-mile chase at one o'clock in the morning, the gownless
figure that lured them on was BRIGGS. If the supper at
VINNIE'S became so uproarious that the Proctor thought it
necessary to interfere, the gentleman that dropped him from the
first-floor window was BRIGGS. Anyone else would have been
sent down over and over again, but - BRIGGS stroked the Balliol
boat: BRIGGS had his cricket blue; BRIGGS was a dead
certainty against Cambridge for the quarter and the hundred: in short,
BRIGGS was indispensable to the College and the 'Varsity, and
therefore he was allowed to stay.

But what is this? A change has come over BRIGGS. He is another
man. Can it be - - ? Impossible - and yet? Yes, it began that very
night. Everyone has heard of Miss O'GRESS, the Pioneer. She
came up to Oxford to lecture; her subject was "Man: his Position and
_Raison d'être_." BRIGGS and I went to hear; went in light
laughing mood with little fear of any consequences. We listened to
the O'GRESS. "There is no doubt," she said, "that Man was
intended by Nature to be the Father. For this high calling he should
endeavour to fit himself by every means in his power. He should
cultivate his body so as to render himself attractive to Woman. He
should be tall," - her eye fell on BRIGGS - "he should be
handsome," - still on BRIGGS - "he should be graceful, he
should be athletic." - At this point her eye seemed fairly to feast on
BRIGGS, and a curious lurid light lowered in it. She paused a
moment. I was sitting next to BRIGGS, and I felt a shiver run
through him. I looked at his face, and it was ghastly pale. I asked him
in a whisper if he felt faint? He impatiently motioned me to be silent,
and remained, as I thought, like a bird paralysed beneath the gaze of a
serpent. I heard no more, so anxious was I on my friend's account; nor
could I breathe with any freedom until the audience rose and we were
once again in the fresh air.

The following day there was a garden-party at Trinity. BRIGGS
said he was playing for the 'Varsity against Lancashire, and therefore
could not go. Imagine my surprise then, when, as I was doing the polite
among the strawberries and cream, I caught sight of him slinking down
the lime grove at the heels of the O'GRESS. I rubbed my eyes
and looked again. Yes, it was BRIGGS indeed. The face was his;
the features were his; the figure was his; the clothes were his - but,
the buoyant step? the merry laugh? where, where, eh! where were they?

* * *

The Long Vac. passed, and we were all up again for Michaelmas Term.
There was a blank in our circle. "Where's BRIGGS?" asked
BROWN. "Where's BRIGGS?" asked TROTTER of
Trinity. We looked at one another. What! Nobody seen BRIGGS?
Not up yet? - Better go and see. We went to his rooms. No
BRIGGS there, and not a sign of his coming. We went to
JONES. JONES knew no more than we; to SMITH,
GREEN, ROBERTS - all equally ignorant. At last we
tried the Porter. What! hadn't we heard the news? News? No! What
news? The Porter's face grew long. Why, Mr. BRIGGS, 'e
weren't comin' up no more. Not coming up? Not coming up? Nonsense!
Impossible! - Fact, gentlemen, fact. The Master,'e'd 'ad a note from Mr.
BRIGGS, sayin' as 'ow 'e wouldn't be back agin. No one knew
nothink more than that. No one could explain it.

There was despair in Balliol. What would become of us? Without
BRIGGS we could never catch B. N. C. Magdalen would bump
us to a certainty, and we could hardly hope to escape the House.
In football it would be just as bad. Keble and Exeter would simply
jump on us, and not a single Balliol man would have his blue. The
position was appalling; ruin stared us in the face; the College was in
consternation, for BRIGGS had disappeared.

* * * * *


"Home Rule all Round!" That cry is in the air:
What Ireland wants, though, is Home Rule all _square_.

* * * * *



* * * * *

Thomas Henry Huxley.

BORN, MAY 4, 1825. DIED, JUNE 30, 1895.

Another star of Science slips
Into the shadow of eclipse! -
Yet no; the _light_ is nowise gone,
But burning still, and travelling on
The unborn future to illume,
And dissipate a distant gloom.
True man of Science he, yet more,
Master of metaphysic lore,
Lover of history and of art,
He played a multifarious part.
With clear head and incisive tongue
Dowered, on all he touched he flung
Those rarer charms of grace and wit.
Great learning may not always hit.
To his "liege lady Science" true,
He narrowed not a jealous view
To her alone, but found all life
With charm and ethic interest rife.
Knowing plain lore of germ and plant,
With dreams of HAMILTON and KANT,
All parts of the great human plan.
England in him has lost a Man.
The great Agnostic, clear, brave, true,
Taught more things, may be, than he deemed he knew.

* * * * *


_Inquirer_ (_drawing up prospectus_). Shall I write "Company" with a
big C?

_Honest Broker._ Certainly, if it's a sound one, as it represents
"Company" with a capital.

* * * * *


Unfortunately I was prevented, by an appointment of a semi-professional
character - I had been desired by a maiden aunt to give her my advice
upon a question, of damage arising out of a canine assault committed
by her lap-dog - from being present at the General Meeting of the Bar,
and consequently was unable to take part in the annual deliberations of
my learned and friendly colleagues. From what passed on the occasion
to which I refer, I gather that there was an inclination to call the
Benchers of the Inns of Court to account. It seems to me - and I believe
that I am right in the opinion - that, so long as our Masters worthily
represent the dignity of the profession, we Members of the Inner and
Outer Bar have no tangible cause for complaint.

But I fancy the leading subject at the Forensic Congress was the Long
Vacation. Judging from the numerous letters that have reached me
from both branches of the profession, this is a matter of the first
importance to all of us. I have been asked by many of my learned and
friendly colleagues, and my nearly equally learned and even more
friendly clients, to give my opinion on the subject. One respected
correspondent who hails from Ely Place, writes, "How could you possibly
recover from the wear and tear of your arduous practice in Trinity
Term, had you not a part of August and nearly the whole of September
and October ready to hand for recuperation?" I quite agree with Sir
GEORGE - I should say, my respected correspondent - that as I
near "the long," I do feel the need of rest - nay, even considerable
rest. Then a learned friend who represents not only the Bar, but
chivalry in its forensic form, sends me a caricature of "DICKY
W." that would suggest that were the holidays to be decreased,
a wearer of a most distinguished order, and an athlete of no small
fame would be reduced to a condition of complete collapse. Once again,
an ornament to our Bench - perhaps the greatest ornament - honours me
with the suggestion that were we to lose a month of recreation, it
might sadden the terraces of Monte Carlo, and eclipse the merriment of
Newmarket Heath. It is needless to state that all these communications
have had weight with me. Still, I have deemed it desirable to approach
the subject with an open mind. It seems to me (and no doubt to many
others) that the question narrows itself into a matter of finance. I
have therefore taken PORTINGTON into my counsels, and examined
with unusual care the pages of my Fee Book. After much consultation
with my admirable and excellent clerk, and an exhaustive audit of
the figures of my forensic _honoraria_, I have come to the matured
conclusion that the lengthening or the shortening of the Long Vacation
does not affect me financially in the very least.


_Pump-handle Court, June 22, 1895._

* * * * *

Football is to be played in all the schools and colleges of Russia. The
champion of the game is known as Prince KHIKOFF.

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE FATE OF ROTTEN ROW.]

* * * * *


The most characteristic work of that important official, the clerk of
the weather.

The young lady who has never been before, and wants to know the names
of the eights who compete for the Diamond Sculls.

The enthusiastic boating man, who, however, prefers luncheon when the
hour arrives, to watching the most exciting race imaginable.

The itinerant vendors of "coolers" and other delightful comestibles.

The troupes of niggers selected and not quite select.

The house-boat with decorations in odious taste, and company to match.

The "perfect gentleman's rider" (from Paris) who remembers boating
at Asnières thirty years ago, when JULES wore when rowing
lavender kid-gloves and high top-boots.

The calm mathematician (from Berlin), who would prefer to see the races
represented by an equation.

The cute Yankee (from New York), who is quite sure that some of the
losing crews have been "got at" while training.

The guaranteed enclosure, with band, lunch and company of the same

The "very best view of the river" from a dozen points of the compass.

Neglected maidens, bored matrons, and odd men out.

Quite the prettiest toilettes in the world.

The Thames Conservancy in many branches.

Launches: steam, electric, accommodating and the reverse.

Men in flannels who don't boat, and men in tweeds who do.

A vast multitude residential, and a vaster come per rail from town.

Three glorious days of excellent racing, at once national and unique.

An aquatic festival, a pattern to the world.

And before all and above all, a contest free from all chicanery, and
the very embodiment of fairplay.

* * * * *

FROM A CORRESPONDENT. - "SIR, - I occasionally come
across allusions to '_Groves of Blarney_.' Which Groves was this? There
was a celebrated fishmonger known as '_Groves of Bond Street_;' is
Groves of Blarney an Irish branch of that family?"

* * * * *



_House of Commons, Monday, July 1._ - Presto! Quick transformation scene
effected to-day. Conservatives to the right; Liberals to the left.
Stupendous, far-reaching change; one of those rarely happy events that
please everyone. Hearing what people say, it is difficult to decide
which the more pleased, Liberals at being turned out, or Conservatives
at springing in. On Ministerial side happiness marred in individual
cases by being left out of the Ministry.

"I'm getting up in years now, TOBY," said THE
MARKISS, "and I've had pretty long experience in making up
Ministries. But I assure you I've been staggered during last week,
including in special degree the last hour. The more offices assigned,
the narrower becomes the basis of operation, and the more desperate
the rush of the attacking party. You'd be surprised if you saw the
list of men who have asked me for something. As a rule they don't put
it in that general way. They know precisely what they want, and are


Online LibraryVariousPunch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 109, July 13, 1895 → online text (page 2 of 3)