Chapter 1

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PUNCH, or the LONDON CHARIVARI

Volume 104, April 22nd 1893

edited by Sir Francis Burnand

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

Two gentlemen of artistic and literary attainments, having studied the romances of VICTOR HUGO for the sake of being inspired by that Grand Old Master's style, determined to essay a "thriller" of most tragic type. These two single authors, Messrs. WYATT and ROSS, being rolled into one, wanted, like the Pickwickian Fat Boy, "to make our flesh creep." In their one-volume Hugoesque romance, _The Earth Girl_, bound in pale grass-green, with blood-red title, they have most unequivocally succeeded. The heroine, The Earth Girl, who, at the last, is sent back whence she came, and so ends by being the "Earth-to-Earth" Girl, is named _Terra_; she commences by being _Terra Incognita_, she is never _Terra Firma_, but her existence, in its consequences to all who come within her influence, is quite a reign of _Terra_. The authors are to be congratulated on not having yielded to a great temptation by styling their story _The Earth Girl; or, Terra-ra-ra-Boom!_ The scene is laid chiefly in the Island of Breke--but to give too many details would spoil the intending-reader's pleasure. So, as _Hamlet_ observes, "Breke, Breke my heart, for I must hold my tongue!" The Earth Girl first sees the light, such as it is, in a cavern, and is brought up on raw eggs fresh from the sea-bird's nest, uncooked herbs, and raw fish. No tea, coffee, milk, or liquors of any description, were within reach of this unhappy family of three, consisting of Pa, Ma, and the Infant Phenomenon. How they slaked their thirst is not clearly stated, unless a sort of aquarium, in which some amiable sharks reposed, was a fresh-water tank. This wild girl was elegantly brought up, as far as their somewhat straitened circumstances would permit, for she learned songs and ballads, French, English, and the Norman _patois_ of the Channel Islands. In these peculiar troglodytian surroundings she had never learned the use of parasol or umbrella, and was entirely ignorant of harp, piano, and the "use of the globes." Coming up out of the caves and breathing once more the upper air, we naturally find ourselves in higher society, and are introduced to a handsome old Peer, _Lord Netherdale_, who has two sons, the half-brothers _Royallet_, one of whom gaily addresses his respected parent as "The Paladin of Paters," and is not at once locked up in Colney Hatch. The old Peer is as eccentric as he is handsome, and he takes up his residence on the Island of Breke, where "the fruit, the vegetables, the strange sea-creatures" (odd fish?), "which made their appearance on his table," (this sounds as if the strange sea-creatures walked in unasked. Queer place this Breke for a Breke-fast party!) "pleased him." He was easily pleased. Then "he began to think the island cider preferable to Pommery. In short, the eccentric Peer fell in love with Breke." Well! he must have been an eccentric Peer to prefer Channel Island cider, even from the best orchards, to the '84, '80, and '74--the last still existing in some exceptionally favoured spots--from the vinevards of Pommery. This eccentric nobleman on seeing the Island of Breke, observed the absence of a landing-stage, and jocosely remarked to himself, "They're in want of a _pier; I_ will fix myself there." And so he did. But of all that happened to him there and elsewhere, and to the Earth-to-Earth Girl, and to the two sons, is it not to be read by the purchaser in the book itself, which, the Baron is pleased to add, will well repay perusal, and will hold the reader's attention to the very last line. At least, this was its effect on the not always easily pleased.

BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

* * * * *

A NEW "ARNOLD'S EXERCISE."

MY DEAR MR. DACRE,

I have seen your Play, and, since then, I have not seen any other like it. "When will I come again?" To see it twice within a week would be too ecstatic a joy for a dweller--may I say a Liver--in London, who is more at home as one of the Lights of Asia. So, for the present--to paraphrase what I believe were the words of a popular poet whose name has passed from my memory--such, alas! is popularity--I will say to you, "Not to-day. DACRE"--(I fancy the last word was "Baker" in the original Syriac)--but, some other day, when, as one of the Lights aforementioned, I shall, at a _Matinée_ be day-lighted to re-witness your admirable performance.

Yours ever most sincerely sincere,

EDWIN TAILS-LOSE, C.B.

P.S.--"C.B." is not "Commander of the Bath," but stands for "_Cox and Box_," in which piece (have you ever played it? I forget--but how perfect you would be as _Sergeant_ or _Corporal Bouncer!_) you will find the immortal quotation which precedes these descriptive initial letters.

* * * * *

MY DOCTOR.

When Influenza pangs attack My tortured head and limbs and back, You soothe me, stretched upon the rack, My Doctor.

When, convalescent, I'm too weak To stand, or sit, or see, or speak, Your tonics make me tough as teak, My Doctor.

No symptoms seem to cause surprise; Though I turn green or blue, your eyes Are still impenetrably wise, My Doctor.

If grave or slight the case, you still Awe folks with look of learned skill; You cure them, whether well or ill, My Doctor.

One needs trepanning of the head, Another just one pill--of bread, And neither, thanks to you, is dead, My Doctor.

Long may you live to see the tongue, To listen to the wheezy lung, To feel the pulse of old and young, My Doctor!

* * * * *

A BUTTON-HOLE FOR MR. CHAMBERLAIN.--At the sale of the Quorn House Orchids, Mr. G. HARDY purchased a _Cattleyn Mendelli_ for 220 _guas_. Perhaps Mr. CHAMBERLAIN wouldn't bid, having mistaken "Mendelli" for "Mundella." But to have entered the house in a careless fashion, with a "glass (with care)" in his eye, and a two-hundred-and-twenty-guinea Orchid in his button-hole, would have been a great sight for "JOEY B"-IRMINGHAM.

* * * * *

EARLY AND LATE.--A telegram in the _Times_, Wednesday 12, was headed--"Japan: Yokohama, March 30 (_viâ_ Victoria, B.C., April 11)." This met the eye of our old friend, Mrs. R., who forthwith exclaimed, "'April 11, B.C.!' and only arrived here now--April 12, A.D.!"

* * * * *

CHANGE OF NAME.--All congratulations to the Duke and Duchess of Fife. Great alterations and improvements are, it is said, being made at Mar Lodge. The name also is to be altered, and henceforth it is to be known as "_Mar and Pa' Lodge_."

* * * * *

THE MOAN OF THE TWO (EXCHEQUER) MISERS.

(_After Quintin Matsys._)

_First Exchequer Miser._ Oh dear me! I desired to shape a Democratic Budget! But I fear 'twill be a fizzle, howsoe'er I fake and fudge it! _Second E. M._ Don't talk like that, my H-RC-T, for such cynic slang is shocking! But--the Revenue Returns, no doubt, our dearest hopes are mocking. _First E. M._ Oh, I know you ape the casuist, and love the pleonastic, But how tackle our taxation in a manner really drastic With a Revenue declining! From the task my courage blenches, But--what will be the consequence on those clamorous Rad Benches? They want Free Breakfast Tables, and are hot on Members' Payment, And if they cannot get 'em, will they curse and rend our raiment? The Death Duties, too! The failure to touch them might be the death of us! _Second R. M._ Yet we've been economical; it is the very breath of us. _First E. M._ Humph! How about your Home-Rule Bill's Finance Proposals--drat'em! Which e'en the Irish threaten to tear up--when they get at 'em! _Second E. M._ The Rads, of course, will want to eat their cake and have it, also. No, a Democratic Budget,--at least one the Rads would call so,-- I fear's not on the cards, H., but--humph! listen! (_Whispers in his ear._) For the rest of it I'll trust your ingenuity, and--we must make the best of it! [_Left working it out._

* * * * *

* * * * *

"PER DAMNA, PER CÆDES," PERAMBULATOR.

[See Mr. ASQUITH'S Speech on the "Temperance" demonstration.]

When Trafalgar Square is with human geese full, And fiercely fights the daft declamator, Undisturbed the nursemaid can push the peaceful Perambulator.

The wild teetotaller hurts not her, Nor does the publican's justificator. Unharmed she can push the peaceful Per- ambulator.

The Working Man, whether true or sham, Whether honest worker, or rough spectator, Leaves her to push the peaceful Peram- bulator.

Though in hostile faces and chests he ram beau-- Tiful bright banners, the demonstrator Still lets her push the peaceful Perambu- lator.

Thus always, whoever may block the way, Though bones be broken and skulls be sore May she push the peaceful Perambula- tor.

* * * * *

"Still a _Non Est_ Man!"--J-B-Z SP-NC-R B-LF-R.

* * * * *

To Mr. John Davitt.

(_On his Maiden Speech in the House._)

"O si sic omnes!"

Surely sincerer speaker never talked! Surely a purer patriot never walked! Surely a fairer fighter never took field! The man who heard your speech on Ireland's cause Without warm sympathy, and frank applause, Must be a--BROOKFIELD!

* * * * *

CHEAP AT ANY PRICE.

_Mrs. Britannia_ (_effusively_). And now, my dear children, do you know the meaning of Imperial Federation?

_Australia_ (_promptly_). Yes, dear Mamma. We are all to live as a happy family.

_Mrs. Brit._ (_fondly_). Quite right, sweetest. And can you tell me how this is to be managed?

_Canada_ (_with decision_). By mutual defence, dear Mamma.

_Mrs. Brit._ (_smilingly_). My love, your answer is quite correct. And how shall we manage this mutual defence?

_Cape Colony_ (_in a business-like manner_). By providing all sorts of things, dear Mamma.

_Mrs. Brit._ (_proudly_). Very good, little HOPE; you are always ready with an answer. And now, can any of you tell me what those things will be?

_India_ (_without hesitation_). Money, and coal and gunpowder, dear Mamma.

_Mrs. Brit._ (_affectionately_). Certainly, darling; you have given exactly the proper reply. And now, will not all this cost a large sum of money?

_Tasmania_ (_with much decision_). A very large sum of money, dear Mamma--an immense sum, dear Mamma.

_Mrs. Brit._ (_kindly_). Yes, my child, you are perfectly right. And now, my cherished daughters, one more question. Who will have to pay for all this expense? (_A pause._) Why, surely you know? (_Continued silence._) Who will have to find the money to secure this Imperial Federation?

_All Britannia's Daughters_ (_together_). Why you, dear Mamma!

_Mrs. Brit._ (_fondling them_). Darlings!

[_Scene closes in upon a picture very dear to Tax-payers._

* * * * *

The Heathen Chinee in the House.

(_New Nursery Rhyme for Unionists._)

[Mr. LABOUCHERE recently presented a petition in the Chinese characters.]

LAB-BI, the cynic and cold, Was blackest sheep in the Liberal fold. He mocked the Old Man's eloquent tags, And let the cats out of all his bags; And when the cats ran loose, said he "I wonder how _that_ suits dear G!"

* * * * *

ELEVATING THE MASSES.

(_A Purely Imaginary Sketch._)

ARGUMENT--Mrs. FLITTERMOUSE, _having got up a party to assist her in giving an Entertainment at the East End, has called a meeting for the purpose of settling the items in the programme._

SCENE--Mrs. FLITTERMOUSE'S _Drawing-room in Park Lane. Everybody discovered drinking tea, and chatting on matters totally unconnected with Philanthropy._

_Mrs. Flittermouse_ (_imploringly_). Now, _please_, everybody, _do_ attend! It's quite impossible to settle anything while you're all talking about something else. (_Apologies, protests, constrained silence._) SELINA, dear, what do you think it would be best to begin with?

_The Dowager Lady Dampier._ My dear FRITILLA, I have no suggestion to offer. You know my opinion about the whole thing. The people don't want to be elevated, and--if they did--entertaining them is not the proper means to set about it. But I don't wish to discourage you.

_Mrs. Flitt._ Oh, but I think we could do so _much_ to give them a taste for more rational and refined amusements, poor things, to wean them from the coarse pleasures which are all they have at present. Only we must really decide what each of us is going to do.

_Mrs. Perse-Weaver._ A violin solo is always popular. And my daughter CECILIA will be delighted to play for you. She has been taught by the best----

_Cecilia._ Oh, Mother, I couldn't, really! I've never played in public. I _know_ I should break down!

_Lady Damp._ In that case, my dear, it would be certainly unwise on your part to attempt it.

_Mrs. P.-W._ Nonsense, CECILIA, nonsense. You _won't_ break down, and it wouldn't matter in the least if you did. _They_ wouldn't notice anything. And it will be such excellent practice for you to get accustomed to a platform, too. Of _course_ she will play for you, dear Mrs. FLITTERMOUSE!

_Mrs. Flitt._ It will be _so_ good of you, Miss WEAVER. And it won't be like playing to a _real_ audience, you know--poor people are so easily pleased, poor dears. Then I will put that down to begin with. (_She makes a note._) Now we must have something quite different for the next--a reading or something.

_Lady Honor Hyndleggs._ A--nothin' _humorous_, I hope. I do think we ought to avoid anythin' like descendin' to their level, don't you know.

_Mr. Lovegroove._ Might try something out of _Pickwick_. "_Bob Sawyer's Party_," you know. Can't go far wrong with anything out of DICKENS.

_Miss Diova Rose._ Can't endure him myself. All his characters are so fearfully common; still--(_tolerantly_) I daresay it might amuse--a--that class of persons.

_Mrs. Flitt._ I must say I agree with Lady HONOR. We should try and aim as high as possible--and well, I think _not_ DICKENS, dear Mr. LOVEGROOVE. _TENNYSON_ might do perhaps; he's written some charmin' pieces.

_Mr. Lovegr._ Well, fact is, I don't go in for poetry much myself. But I'll read anythin' of his you think I'm equal to.

_Mrs. Flitt._ Why--a--really, it's so long since I--and I'm afraid I haven't one of his poems in the house. I suppose they are down at Barn-end. But I could send to CUTT AND HAWTHORN'S. I daresay _they_ would have a copy somewhere.

_Miss Sibson-Gabler._ Surely TENNYSON is rather--a--retrograde? Why not read them something to set them _thinking_? It would be an interesting experiment to try the effect of that marvellous Last Scene in the _Doll's House_. I'd love to read it. It would be like a breath of fresh air to them!

_Mrs. P.-W._ Oh! I've seen that at the Langham Hall. You remember, CECILIA, my taking you there? And CORNEY GRAIN played _Noah_. To be sure--we were _quite_ amused by it all.

_Miss S.-G._ (_coldly_). This is _not_ amusing--it's a play of IBSEN'S.

_Mrs. Flitt._ Is that the man who wrote the piece at the Criterion--what is it, _The Toy Shop_? WYNDHAM acted in it.

_Lady Damp._ No, no; IBSEN is the person there's been all this fuss about in the papers--he goes in for unconventionality and all that. I may be wrong, but I think it is _such_ a mistake to have anything unconventional in an Entertainment for the People.

_Mrs. Flitt._ But if he's being _talked_ about, dear Lady DAMPIER, people might like to know something about him. But perhaps we'd better leave IBSEN open, then. Now, what shall we have next?

_Miss Skipworth._ I tell you what would fetch them--a skirt-dance. I'll dance for you--like a shot. It would be no end of fun doin' it on a regular platform, and I've been studyin' FLOSSIE FRILLINGTON, at the Inanity, till I've caught her style exactly.

_Mr. Kempton._ Oh, I say, you can give her a stone and a beatin' any day, give you my word you can. She doesn't put anythin' like the go into it you do.

[_Miss S. accepts this tribute with complacency._

_Mrs. Flitt._ A skirt-dance will be the very thing. It's sure to please the people we shall bring over for it--and of course they'll be in the front rows. Yes, I must put _that_ down. We ought to have a song next. Mrs. TUBEROSE, you promised to come and sing for us--you will, won't you?

_Mrs. Tuberose._ Delighted! I rather thought of doing a dear little song STEPHAN OTIS has just brought out. It's called "_Forbidden Fruit_," and he wrote it expressly for me. It goes like this.

[_She sits down at the piano, and sings, with infinite expression and tenderness._

"Only the moon espies our bliss, Through the conscious clusters of clematis, Shedding star-sweet showers. To-morrow the world will have gone amiss-- Now we are face by face, love, I thrill to your kiss-- So let us remember naught but this: That To-night is ours! Yes, this passionate, perilous, exquisite night--is Ours!"

_Several Voices._ Charmin'.... OTIS puts so much real feeling into all his songs ... quite a little gem! &c., &c.

_Lady Damp._ I should have thought myself that it was rather advanced--for an East-End audience----

_Mrs. Tuberose_ (_nettled_). Really, dear Lady DAMPIER, if people see nothing to object in it _here_, I don't see why they should be more particular at the East-End!

_Mrs. Flitt._ Oh no,--and as if it matters what the _words_ are in a song. I daresay if one heard _their_ songs----Now we want another song--something as different as possible.

_Mr. Gardinier._ Heard a capital song at the "Pav." the other night--something about a Cock-eyed Kipper. Just suit my voice. I could easily get the words and music, and do that for you--if you like.

_Several Voices._ A Cock-eyed Kipper! It sounds too killing! Oh, we must have that!

_Lady Damp._ Might I ask what kind of creature a--a "Cock-eyed Kipper" may be?

_Mr. Gard._ Oh, well, I suppose it's a sort of a dried herring--with a squint, don't you know.

_Lady Damp._ I see no humour in making light of a personal deformity, I must say.

_Mr. Gard._ Oh, don't you? _They_ will--it'll go with a scream there!

_Miss Diova Rose._ Yes, poor dears--and we mustn't mind being just a little vulgar for once--to cheer them up.

_Lady Honor._ I have been to the Pavilion and the Tivoli myself, and I heard nothing to object to. I know I was much more amused than I ever am at theatres--_they_ bore me to death.

_Mr. Bagotrix._ We might finish up with _Mrs. Jarley's Waxworks_ you know. Some of you can be the figures, and I'll come on in a bonnet and shawl as _Mrs. Jarley_, and wind you up and describe you. I've done it at lots of places in the country; brought in personal allusions and all that sort of thing, and made everybody roar.

_Lady Damp._ But will the East-Enders understand your personal allusions?

_Mr. Bag._ Well, you see, the people in the front rows will, which is all _I_ want.

_Lady Honor_ (_suspiciously_). Isn't _Mrs. Jarley_ out of _Pickwick_, though? That's DICKENS surely!

_Mr. Bag._ (_reassuringly_). Nothing but the name, Lady HONOR. I make up all the patter myself, so that'll be all right--just good-natured chaff, you know; if any body's a offended--as I've known them to be--it's no fault of mine.

_Mrs. Flitt._ Oh! I'm sure you will make it funny,--and about getting someone to preside--I suppose we ought to ask the Vicar of the nearest church?

_Lady Honor._ Wouldn't it be better to get somebody--a--more in Society, don't you know?

_Mrs. Flitt._ Yes; and he might offer to pay for hiring the Hall, and the other expenses. I never thought of that. I'll see whom I can get. Really I think it ought to be great fun, and we shall have the satisfaction of feeling we are doing real good, which is such a comfort!

* * * * *

* * * * *

A Tip to Teetotallers.

TEMPERANCE is good--but not alone in Drink! Good causes are not won, whate'er you think, By bullying indulgence in bad manners. A total abstinence from aught unfair Will serve you best. Your Standard raise in air, But Banners of Intemperance should not tear Passions to rags--_nor Banners_!

* * * * *

THE _Times_ of April 12 says:--"The Kachin (or Katchin) rising is stated to be serious, and likely to spread." Not to be wondered at, as it's "Katchin."

* * * * *

A TELEGRAM from Fez ought to be considered as coming from Head-quarters.

* * * * *

CLERICAL OUTCOMES.

_To the Editor of "The St-nd-rd."_

SIR,--Allow me to mention, under all reserve, that I _frequently_ preach a sermon of JEREMY TAYLOR'S, or the Judicious HOOKER'S, to my congregation, with excellent effect, and hitherto without any discovery on their part of the origin of the discourse. I, of course, alter the old-fashioned phrases, and bring the sermons up to date, so to speak. This plan saves the inconvenience of having to _pay_ for sermons, which I could not do in cash in these days of clerical destitution, only in sermon paper, which I fear would not be accepted. If I am accused of "cribbing sermons," I deny the charge with indignation. I don't crib JEREMY, I _adapt_ him. Does every dramatist, who adapts from the French, acknowledge the fact? Not at all! Neither does--

Yours unblushingly,

BORROWED PLUME-AGE.

SIR,--My congregation is a rustic one. I have tried them with my own sermons, but my pewrents suffered so severely in consequence, that I have been obliged to give them up. Last Sunday (following the advice of a lay friend of mine in Town, in whom I have much confidence) I preached one of Prebendary SHEEPSHANKS' "Crampton Lectures" to them, and the farmers and labourers seemed much impressed. There was, in fact, hardly an open eye in Church during the hour and a half that the delivery lasted. The Charity-School children, too, who sat through the whole of it, only had to be physically admonished by their teacher about once in every half-minute. When an old village dame afterwards assured me that "she didn't know I was that larned," I felt--momentarily--rather like a wolf in SHEEPSHANKS' clothes. But I intend going through the course.

Yours, &c., PASTOR IGNOTUS.

* * * * *

SPORTING ANSWERS.

COUNTRY HOUSE.