Chapter 1

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

VOLUME 104

APRIL 1, 1893.

edited by Sir Francis Burnand

* * * * *

THE BUBBLE SHOP; OR, "ONLY HIS PLAY."

How many deserving persons besides dramatic authors are looking about for good situations, and are unable to find them! Mr. 'ENRY HAUTHOR JONES was sufficiently fortunate to obtain a good dramatic situation of tried strength, which, placed in the centre of novel and most improbable (not to say impossible) surroundings, has, in the hands of Mr. CHARLES WYNDHAM and his highly trained company of illusionists, achieved a remarkable success.

Within the last few years there have been notorious cases associated with the names of Members of Parliament, but as the House is a Legislative Assembly and not an inquisitorial tribunal instituted for the public investigation of private morality, no charge could be brought in the House itself against any one of its Members until after a Court of Law had pronounced its verdict, and, even then, a Member of Parliament, convicted of a criminal offence, would not cease _ipso facto_ to belong to the House until after a motion for his expulsion had been carried. As _Fritz_ in _La Grande Duchesse_ expressed his wish to become a schoolmaster, in order that he might obtain some smattering of education, so an immoral M.P. (if any such there be) would be the very one to stand sponsor for a Bill for the Better Preservation of Public Morals, with a view to gaining that elementary knowledge of morality in which his education had been defective. But no one could have brought up some awkward case against him in the course of a debate in the House. In the parliamentary proceedings of Little Peddlington this might be done, but not in the House of Commons, which, by a very polite but necessary fiction, is supposed to be a House of Uncommons, far above the weaknesses of the ordinary human nature of mere Constituents.

_Mr. Stoach_ (capitally played by Mr. J. VALENTINE--but everybody plays capitally in this piece) finds _Lord Clivebrooke_ (Mr. CHARLES WYNDHAM--admirable also) between midnight and one in the morning alone with charming _Jessie Keber_ (Miss MARY MOORE,--delightful!) in old _Matthew Keber's_ toy-shop, _Keber_ himself (another very clever impersonation by Mr. W. H. DAY) having gone out on the sly to get drunk on money supplied him by the aforesaid unscrupulous _Stoach, M.P._ So what would have to be said in the House should amount to this:--

_Stoach._ What! the Leader of the House bring in this Purity Bill!! Why I saw him myself with my own eyes in a toy-shop, all among the toys, alone at one in the morning with an attractive young person of the female persuasion.

"Look at that now," says an Irish M.P., following the example of _Shaun the Post_ in _The Colleen Bawn_, when the scoundrelly lawyer brings a charge against the hero of the drama, "An' what might _you_ be doin' about there at that same time?"

Supposing, for an instant, the impossible, _Stoach_ would be called to order, and be severely reprimanded by the SPEAKER.

Had the much-heckled and long-suffering _Clivebrooke_ been gifted by the Author with lively ready-wit, he would have replied to his father and supporters, who invade his room, in the pleasantest and Charliest-Wyndhamest manner, "Yes (_lightly and airily_). What could I be doing in a toy-shop with a young lady? Why (_still more lightly and airily_) of course I was '_toying with her!_'" Whereupon his old father would have been immensely tickled, and the deputation, in fits of laughter, would have rushed back to the lobby to report "the last good thing said by that clever chap _Clivebrooke!_ So like him!"

This Act would have ended with the triumph of ready-wit over disappointed malignity. _Jessie Keber_ would have run in and embraced her hero, the Bill would have been carried (_Cheers heard without_), and all would have ended happily and pleasantly without any necessity having arisen for another Act, either of Parliament or of the piece.

"Yes," says this dramatist, "I admit the soft impeachment. I plead guilty, with extenuating circumstances. _The play's the thing_; and if the facts don't suit my play, so much the worse for the facts. Success has been achieved, and what more can any living author want? Credit and cash. _Voilà tout!_ 'Credit' for my own original invention in hitting upon the Parliamentary accessories to my picture; and 'cash,' which will be paid as long as the public take an interest _in_ the play, and just so long shall I take my interest _out_ of the public money."

To sum up in the words of the old-fashioned tag, "If our friends in front are pleased, then Manager and Author are satisfied." But, if objection be still taken to the unreality of the Parliamentary setting of the picture, then "please remember," apologises 'ENRY HAUTHOR, "that '_it's only my play_.'"

* * * * *

A Liberator Lay.

Three little roguey-boys said to Conscience--"Pooh!" Croydon made one its Mayor, and then there were two.

Two little roguey-boys thought that Fraud was fun; A Judge thought otherwise, and then there was one.

One little roguey-boy took the Chiltern Hun- dreds upon his road to Spain, and then there was none!

* * * * *

WALKING ROUND HIS SUBJECT.--In TAY PAY'S interesting review of _The Life of Lord Aberdeen_, a Book of the Week in the _Sun_, there is a delightful chord which shows that "the harp that once thro' Tara's halls" still upon occasion twangs. "It is pleasant," says TAY PAY, writing of Mr. GLADSTONE, "to be able to project ourselves backward to the time, when the statesman we know as full of years and the idol of millions, was the bashful, self-distrustful youth." Now, if next week our young friend, whose sympathy with bashful, self-distrustful youth, is instinctive, will manage to withdraw himself forward, he may be said to have thoroughly reconnoitered his subject, an excellent thing in a reviewer.

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* * * * *

* * * * *

THE VILLAGE BEAUTY AND THE RIVAL SWAINS.

_An Easter Eclogue._

_Chloe_ Miss HODGE _Corydon_ H. H. F-WL-R _Strephon_ J. G. G-SCH-N.

_Corydon_ (_smirking_). I have found out a gift for _my_ fair, Such as sugary SHENSTONE ne'er found! _Strephon_ (_aside, sniffing_). His bowpot's made up, I declare, Half of flowers he's filched from _my_ ground! _Chloe_ (_pirouetting_). Oh la! What a lovely bokay! That for _me!_ Oh, you're awfully kyind! _Corydon_ (_ogling_). Ah! I've loved you this many a day! _Strephon_ (_sighing_). And for years you've been first in my mind! _Chloe_ (_aside_). My! Isn't it nice to be courted like this? I believe I could buy 'em both up with a kiss!

_Corydon_ (_gloating_). Love, you dance just as PERDITA danced! You must be a Princess in disguise. _Strephon_ (_aside_). And not long since he swore that she pranced Likes a clown who contends for a prize. _Chloe_ (_bridling_). _Me_ a Princess? Oh la! that's your fun. You know that my feyther was HODGE! _Strephon_ (_aside_). Of course; but, providing she's won, He'll descend to the paltriest dodge. _Corydon_ (_effusively_). You're the Pride of the Village, and fashioned to rule In the Cottage, the Council, the Church, and the School!

_Chloe_ (_coyly_). You're a flattering of me, young man! _Corydon_ (_ardently_). If I am, maay I forfeit your--Vote! _Chloe._ Well, of course, I will do what I can, As the Parish-princess, to promote The--what is it you want me to do? Yes, the Poor--and the Ditches--and Drains, The Rates--I do hope _they_'ll be few! The Allotments--I trust they'll be gains! But the Squire and the Parson? Oh! CORYDON mine, When _they_ hear what you've done, _won't_ they kick up a shine?

_Corydon_ (_brusquely_). Oh! the Squire and the Parson be--blowed! All too long they've been cocks o' the walk. _Strephon_ (_eagerly_). Quite right! How this buzzum has glowed Your twin tyrants to baffle and baulk! _Corydon_ (_contemptuously_). You've dissembled your--hate for them well, Master STREPHON! It never leaked out Till _we_ made PATIENT GRIZZEL a _belle!_ _Now_ you'd like to cut in, I've no doubt. _Chloe_ (_coquettishly_). La sakes! do not quarrel! You're both very kyind, But--I fancy dear CORYDON'S most to my mind.

[_Beams on him, and accepts the Bouquet._

_Strephon_ (_suppressing himself_). Well, well, 'tis the fortune of war! As it's holiday season, let's sing, Should Shepherds at Eastertide jar? Suave SHENSTONE would scout such a thing. I wish you and CORYDON luck-- The posy he's plucked you looks fine; Though I must say my fancy it struck, It was not wholly new--in design. However, dear CHLOE, you're sweet; 'tis fair weather; So, CORYDON, let's sing her praises--together--

_They sing_:--

Her charms--since she possessed the Vote-- Are things on which the swains all dote. Fearing to flout or slight. She dances, having now her way, No bygone Easter holiday E'er saw so fine a sight!

Our village _Belle_ with _anyone_ Dares now to make comparison. Fair nymph, this Easter fun done, With proudest County Toast, though fair, You may compete or charms compare With the haughtiest "Pride of London!"

* * * * *

ASTOUNDING REPORT.--There is no foundation whatever for the report of the resignation of Lord HERSCHELL. It probably arose from some incautious and slangy person speaking of him in his office of LORD CHANCELLOR as having "got the sack." Obviously the Wool-sack was intended.

* * * * *

A GENUINE PHILANTHROPIST.

O PASSMORE EDWARDS, you, beyond contention, Are worthy _Punch's_ "Honourable Mention." Whenever there be any boons a-brewing You're very sure, Sir, to be up and doing! There's scarce a project schemed with kindly sense, But profits by your large munificence. _Punch_ won't forget to pray when passing bedwards, For you--and for more bricks like PASSMORE EDWARDS!

* * * * *

ON THE SECOND READING OF THE HOME-RULE BILL.

(_By a Rebellious Rad._)

BUTCHERED--to make an Easter Holiday, For Orangemen who yearn to have their say! They've got political _delirium tremens_. _Orange?_ Nay, they're sour as unripe lemons!

* * * * *

THE REAL "SPIRITUAL" (OR SHALL WE SAY SPIRITUOUS?) NEEDS OF LONDON.--Strict Supervision of Gin Palaces, and a rigid enforcement of the Adulteration Acts. (_Licensing Authorities, Excise Officers, and Policemen, please take Notice!_)

* * * * *

A TIP IN TIME.

Country Vestrydom's called, by its new-fangled rival, (The smart "Parish Council") "decrepit survival." P. C., be not hard on the old form thou twittest! Thou yet hast to prove _thy_ "Survival" the "fittest."

* * * * *

AT THE CONFECTIONER'S.

(_A Sketch on Saturday Afternoon._)

SCENE.--_A Confectioner's Shop in a fashionable West-End thoroughfare. Close to the window is a counter, with the usual urns and appurtenances, laden with an assortment of richly decorated pastry, and presided over by an alert and short-tempered_ Manageress. _The little tables are close together, and crowded with_ Customers, _the majority of whom are ladies. A couple of over-worked_ Waitresses _are endeavouring, with but indifferent success, to satisfy everybody at once._

_Cries from Customers._ Yes, two teas and _one_ roll and butter--no, I mean, one roll and butter and _two_ teas! "_Have I ordered?_" Why, the last time you said it was coming directly! Isn't that chocolate ready _yet?_ We shall _never_ catch our train! I say, Waitress, I ordered coffee and cakes a quarter of an hour ago, and all we've got yet is two empty cups and a bowl of sugar! _Do_ make haste with that tea! I didn't say a _cup_ of tea--I said a _pot_ of tea, as plain as----! (&c., &c.)

_Duet of Waitresses._ Yes, Sir, attend to you in one moment. Are _you_ the cup of tea, Madam? Oh, I'll bring you a fork for your pastry directly. There'll be some milk coming in a minute, Sir. Bread and butter? No, Sir, you can have a _roll_ and butter, or cakes, if you prefer them. Excuse me, Madam, when I've done attending to _this_ lady. No, Sir; it was the other young lady who took your order--not me. _Would_ you mind letting me have the milk-jug, if you've finished with it, Madam? We're rather short of them. I'll _see_ if I can get you a teaspoon, Sir. (&c., &c.)

_The Manageress_ (_all in one breath, without any stops_). Now then Miss SIMPSON don't you see these cups standing here ready to be taken and there's that Gentleman in the corner waiting to be attended to and tell Mrs. BINKS we shall want more milk and there put out those fancy cakes do two chocolates Miss JONES well you can't have them yet because I've used all the hot water what does the girl want next butter it's no use coming _to me_ for butter here take those cups to be washed up will you you leave me to look after everythink myself and customers leaving because they can't get served I declare I never saw such girls as you are in all my born days!

_A Man from the Lyceum._ I'm not sure, after all, that IRVING'S finest moment wasn't in that last scene. I mean, when _Fitzurse_ and those fellows came in, and he----

_First Lady_ (_at adjoining table--from the Aquarium Theatre_). Sat up on his _dear_ tail, and struck out with those long hind legs of his, _sweet_ thing; he took such an _interest_ in it all, didn't he?

_Second Lady_ (_on opposite side of table--who has been to "Hypatia"_). Oh, and didn't she look _distractingly_ lovely just after she had finished lecturing; _you_ know, when she----

_Third L._ (_close by, fresh from "Charley's Aunt"_). Stepped out of the gown, and walked about in the old Lady's cap and false front! I quite _cried_ with laughing!

_Second L._ I liked the Proconsul--dear me, what _was_ his name? So _stupid_ of me--but it doesn't matter! I thought he looked so perfectly Byzantine when he came in with his lictors in the litter----

_Third L._ And played the piano so _beautifully!_

_Second Hypatian L._ And didn't you think TREE was very good?--that part where he found out about his daughter, and stood towering over her with a knife in his hand, and----

_Third L._ That enormous cigar stuck in his mouth--he was simply too _killing!_ [_And so on._

_Miss Camille Leon_ (_by voiceless motion of her lips, and expressive pantomime, for the guidance of her fiancé_, Mr. FRED FORRIDGE, _who has gone to the counter to select dainties for her refection_). No, not _those_--in the _next_ dish--with chocolate outside ... no the _long_ ones--_oh_, how stupid you are! Yes, if those are preserved cherries on the iced sugar. Very well, the _pink_ one, then--that will do.

_Mr. Forridge_ (_returning with a loaded plate_). I hope I've got what you wanted?

_Miss C. L._ _Just_ what I like--_how_ clever of you! (_She helps herself, after dainty deliberation._) Quite delicious! Aren't you going to have any yourself?

_Mr. Forr._ (_engaged in exploring his left-hand pocket surreptitiously, with a troubled expression_). Oh, thanks--presently, perhaps. (_To himself._) I must have more than that _somewhere!_

_Miss C. L._ (_gaily_). I advise you to make haste--or there'll be none left. They're too seductive for words. [_She chooses another._

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself_). It _is_ one-and-sixpence. Fool I was to go and forget my sovereign-purse! However--(_hopefully_), two cups of tea at fourpence--eightpence; say three cakes at twopence--one-and-twopence--oh, I shall manage it easily, and leave a margin! (_Aloud._) I think I won't have anything to eat--not _hungry_, don't you know.

_Miss C. L._ No more am _I!_ (_She takes a third cake._) This has got cream inside--aren't you tempted?

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself._) Only fourpence to the good now--mustn't risk it! (_Aloud._) Couldn't indeed--spoil my appetite for dinner.

_Miss C. L._ (_with superiority_). Oh, I never _have_ any appetite for dinner. I loathe the very sight of food, somehow! But I do _wish_ you'd eat something--it's so _piggish_ of you not to--_really_ it is! You must take just this weeny little one--to please Me! (_She places it on his plate._) Now you _can't_ say no!

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself_). She is the _dearest_ darling! (_Aloud._) I'd do anything in the world to please you, CAMILLE! (_To himself._) After all, there's still _twopence!_

_Miss C. L._ Good boy! (_As he eats._) Well, is it a success?

_Mr. Forr._ (_munching_). It isn't bad--got Marchpane, or something of the kind on it.

_Miss C. L._ How nice! I adore Marchpane! You may go and get me one just like it, if you're _very_ good.

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself, as he obeys her behest_). That cleans me out! Thank goodness, no gratuities are allowed here, or else--and this _must_ be the last--she's had three already! If I'd only had another sixpence, I shouldn't care, but this is running it devilish close! (_Aloud, as he returns._) This is the nearest I could get.

_Miss C. L._ Thanks, ever so much. Awfully nice tea this is. (_Suggestively._) They might give one bigger cups, though!

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself, with pathos_). I'd give my life for her, cheerfully--and I've got to deny her a second cup of tea! But hang it, I _must_. I can't ask her to lend me fourpence to pay the bill! (_Aloud._) It's--er--just as well they don't. My sisters have sworn off afternoon tea altogether; some medical Johnny told them it--er--had a tendency to make the nose red!

_Miss C. L._ (_to herself_). FRED'S _sisters!_ Very likely! (_Aloud, coldly._) If you think there is any danger of that in _my_ case, of course I won't risk another cup.

_Mr. Forr._ Oh--er--well, you never _know_, don't you know. I--er--_wouldn't_. (_To himself._) Narrow shave that, by Jove!

_Miss C. L._ I think we'd better take a cab back, don't you?

_Mr. Forr._ (_horrified_). M--much jollier walking. Streets as dry as a bone!

_Miss C. L._ But I want to get home and arrange the table for dinner to-night. Mother always likes me to do the flowers.

_Mr. Forr._ Lots of time for that You c--can't judge of the effect till it's dark, _can_ you? And it will be light for hours to come.

_Miss C. L._ Yes, that's true. Then suppose we go and see the BURNE-JONESES, now we're so near? They don't close till six.

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself_). It _would_ have been jolly; but, half-a-crown, when I can't even run to a _catalogue!_ No! (_Aloud._) It--it's getting so dark--can't do 'em justice by artificial light, do you think? And--well, to tell you the honest truth, CAMILLE, after the Old Masters, you know--I--I don't feel--and I _have_ seen them, you know!

_Miss C. L._ (_pouting_). I thought you might have cared to see them again--with Me--but it doesn't in the least matter ... FRED, I don't care about this cake you got me--it's dull. I think I shall leave it, and try one of these white-and-green ones instead. [_She does._

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself--with a beaded brow_). Broke! And for an extra twopence! As likely as not, she hasn't even got her purse with her. And she'll think I'm so beastly mean! Why on earth didn't I let her go to the Aërated Bread-shop, as she wanted? It would have been all right then!

_Miss C. L._ I'm afraid you're rather bored, FRED--you don't seem to be enjoying yourself quite; _do_ you?

_Mr. Forr._ (_in agony_). Oh, I _am_--I'm all right, CAMILLE, only I--I'm always like this after the Old Masters, you know.

_Miss C. L._ So sorry I made you bring me--don't you think we had better pay, and go home?

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself_). Now for it! (_He pulls himself together._) W--waitress, w--what have I to pay, please?

_Waitress._ Two teas, eightpence; one, two--_six_ cakes you've had, I think, Sir? One-and-eightpence altogether.

_Mr. Forr._ (_with a gasp_). Oh! (_He fetches up two coins abjectly from his pocket_). I--I'm sorry to say that I--I've o--only one shilling and (_with a start of intense relief_) half-a-sovereign, so (_with recovered dignity_) I'm afraid I must ask you to give me change. (_To_ Miss C. L.) I--I was only joking about the BURNE-JONESES, darling, I'd like to see them _awfully_--with you. And we can walk home through the Park, or take a cab afterwards, just as _you_ feel about it. _Do_ say you'll come!

[Miss LEON _graciously consents, and_ Mr. FORRIDGE _follows her out of the shop with restored equanimity, as Scene closes in._

* * * * *

FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE.--The Dowager Lady CRUMBIE dined out one night last week, when the dinner was so cold that her Ladyship caught a severe chill, and next day the Cook caught it uncommonly hot.

* * * * *

ADVICE GRATIS.--M. WORTH, of Paris, says of the costumes of The No-Connection "BRADLEY & CO," "You must take them for what they are----WORTH."

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* * * * *

ROBERT AT THE BOAT-RACE.

Well, as I've often said afore, and shall most probberly live to say it again, there ain't no acounting for taste, speshally among the hupper classes. Take last Wensday as a xampel. Here's a lot of about twenty of the most heminent Swells in our most heminent Huniwersitys, where they goes, as we all on us knows, to learn how to tork Greek, which they finds so wunderful useful when they growes up. Well, they has the hole year to choose from, save and xcept Sundays, and I'm jiggered, as I herd a real Gent say, if they don't go and select a day as goes and begins with a hawful heasterly wind, and a contemptible shower of rain, just enuff to make thowsands of our most loveliest Ladys at wunce risolve not to wenter out ewen to see such a site as two boats full of hansum young gennelmen, all drestin flannel, a pulling of them two boats a matter of four miles! And yet I'm told as there's a learned Gent as publishes a little book as tells you what the whether will be ewery day in the year, and he's werry offen rite.

However, it all turned out rite at larst, and we had a nice sunny day, tho' why they kep us all a waiting till arf-past fore o'clock I'm sure I don't kno, when there was thowsends of us waiting afore two. Another little misstery is, why they want no less than hayteen strong-looking gents to pull too little Botes along, sixteen on 'em a pulling with their skulls, and two on 'em a pulling with too little ropes apeace, I have never bin able to make out.