Part 1

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Volume 108, April 6, 1895.

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_

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THE STUDIO SEEKER'S VADE MECUM.

_Question._ On what occasions do you particularly seek the studios?

_Answer._ On two Sundays in the year--the consecutive sabbaths devoted to the exhibition of proposed academy pictures by "Outsiders," and "A.'s," and "R.A.'s."

_Q._ Do you haunt the abodes of artists at other times?

_A._ Never; or, to cover all possibilities, hardly ever.

_Q._ Then you are not a lover of paintings for their own sake?

_A._ Certainly not; on the contrary, I am, as a rule, a better judge of frames than canvases.

_Q._ Then why do you go to St. John's Wood, Chelsea and West Kensington?

_A._ To see and be seen.

_Q._ Is it necessary to know the artist whose pictures are "on view"?

_A._ Certainly not. You can usually single him out by the absence of an overcoat, and can generally spot his wife and daughter by the non-appearance of promenading head-gear.

_Q._ What have you to do when you have discovered your involuntary host and hostess?

_A._ To shake hands with them with condescension, and partake of their refreshments with gusto.

_Q._ Will this invasion of the domestic circle be resented?

_A._ No; because it is highly probable that you will be mistaken for a newspaper Art critic, and respect for the Press in Art circles is universal.

_Q._ Are not artists, as a body, a community of highly accomplished gentlemen?

_A._ Certainly; and, consequently, on ordinary occasions entitled to well-merited respect.

_Q._ Then why should that "well-merited respect" be refused to them a month before the May opening of Burlington House?

_A._ Because it is the fashion.

_Q._ Surely this fashion does not exist amongst the better classes of the community?

_A._ To some extent; although it certainly is in greatest favour with cads and snobs, to say nothing of their female relations.

_Q._ Has any effort been made to stem this tide of unauthorised and unwelcome invasion?

_A._ In isolated cases the master of the studio has sought the protection of the police to keep his studio free of the unknown and the unknowable.

_Q._ But could not the scandal be removed with the assistance of the leaders of Society?

_A._ Assuredly. It would only have to become unfashionable to visit studios on the Show Sundays for the painter to be left at peace.

_Q._ Would that be pleasing to the artists?

_A._ That is the published opinion, but the matter has not been put absolutely to the test. However, the pleasure of the artists is not to be considered when the recreations of Brixton and Tooting are at stake.

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APRIL FOOLOSOPHY.

(_By One of Them._)

_Fools rush in where angels fear to tread._ Well, this only shows our valiant disregard of danger, our readiness of initiative, our championship of forlorn hopes. We are the heaven-sent leaders of all "New" enterprises, whether literary, theatrical, or artistic. It is we who penetrate the mysteries of Bodleyosophy, Beardsleyotechny, and Yellow Astrology. We are the real and only Mahatmaniacs, Sexomaniacs, Miasmaniacs. Among our ranks you will find the Women who Did, the anticonjuGallias, the shedonKeynotes, and all their attendant and Discordant tribe of Jack-asses. We are the elect and proper bell-wethers of mankind. Come to us, then, for guidance.

_Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise._ Folly is therefore the true wisdom. However, this is an Oscarian paradox, which the Divine WILLIAMS has previously plagiarised, and enlarged on at some length, so we will pass on.

_Fools build houses, but wise men live in them._ Exactly so; we are the architects of this generation. The wise man depends on us for his roof and lodging; and without us he would be homeless. We have built "Snookson's Folly" and "Babel Mansions"--half of London, in fact. The jerry-builders have done the rest.

_A fool and his money are soon parted._ A compliment to our open-handed and indiscriminate generosity. It is we who swell the subscription list for the last new gold mine or building society; who subsidise insolvent South American Republics; who support the mendicant tramp and the deserving blackmailer.

_There is no fool like an old fool._ That is, the quality of folly improves with keeping, like that of wine. The seniors of our class are thoroughly reliable old fools, and Past Grand Masters in the art of ineptitude. We, fools as we are, know how to pay the proper respect that is due to senility and second-childishness.

_A fool at forty is a fool indeed._ This is a corollary of the preceding aphorism, for it is only at the age of two-score that we attain to years of full indiscretion. We develop later than the rest of humanity; we undergo a severe probation before our claim to the title of complete nincompoop is recognised. Before forty there is yet a chance that the budding ninny may desert, and degenerate into a prig, a Philistine, or a physician. After that age he is safe, and can be depended on for unwisdom, whereas your ordinary wiseacre cuts his back teeth and graduates in common-sense at twenty-one.

Lastly, _Fools stand in slippery places_--where wise men tumble down; but this needs no further illustration than that provided years ago by C. K., in _Mr. Punch's_ pages.

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NOT FOR THEIR "BEN."--Judging from some of the evidence at the recent trial of _Tillett_ v. "_The Morning_" (_Limited_), it probably occurred to the unemployed dockers that they might have been well employed in "docking" B. T.'s salary.

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A HISTORICAL PARALLEL.--"The notice you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it."--_Extract from Dr. Johnson's Letter to Lord Chesterfield, February 1755._]

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BISMARCK'S BIRTHDAY;

_Or, a Tardy Tribute._

["In the presence of this band I now come to hand my gift to your Serene Highness. I could find no better present than a sword, the noblest weapon of the Germans, a symbol of that weapon which your Highness, with my blessed grandfather, helped to forge, to sharpen, and also to wield--a symbol of that great building-time during which the mortar was blood and iron, a remedy which never fails."--_The German Emperor, in presenting a Sword of Honour to Prince Bismarck, in celebration of his eightieth birthday._]

["The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it."--_Doctor Johnson to the Earl of Chesterfield._]

Not the Dropped Pilot now![A] The circling years Bring their revenges, and to-day he stands, Age-bowed but firm, amidst the ringing cheers Of the young Monarch's mailed Germanic bands; And with proud patience takes, from lesser hands, The proffered Symbol-sword! Grim face, with years and labours scarred and scored, What marvel should those lines relax awhile To a Saturnian smile?

Splendid old Sword-smith, WIELAND of our day, Bestwielder of the matchless steel you made, This "Sword of Honour" is but baby play Compared with that tremendous Balsung-blade Forged by the mightiest master of his trade Since the great Norseman wrought, For the fierce battle-field where Titans fought. What may the shouting young AMILIAS know Of its great swashing blow?

He prates of Brandenburg, Iron and Blood, In swelling royal rhetoric, but _you_ hear The clash of squadrons in war's sternest mood In that "great building-time"; and the boy-cheer Of him who, eager the State-bark to steer, Snatched from your hands the helm, Impetuous Palinurus of the realm,-- That cheer seems bitter and belated now, Hollow, all sound and show!

You forged the blade he flourishes with pride, That new Excalibur, "Unity"; you gave That mighty weapon to Germania's side, You and the iron comrades, silent, brave, Who fought beneath the flag he loves to wave. The man of scanty speech, Who smote and shouted not, in war's dread breach, The valiant Emperor, and his noble son,-- By these the work was done.

And he, the inheritor of fulfilled renown, Set the survivor of the Splendid Four Coldly aside; wearing the iron crown, Won for his wearing 'midst red battle's roar, Jauntily, and the blade you sharpened bore With cool complacent pride As though his own hands bound it to his side. And now he comes like Mars amidst his ranks, And brings--belated thanks!

What thinks the ancient Sword-smith in his soul? Like the old scholar, sick with long neglect, And help delayed till he had reached the goal, Fame-crowned but solitary, self-respect Might tempt him, old and weary,[B‡] to reject, The tardy tribute. Raise "Hochs," Emperor-fugled! Shout hurrahs of praise! Render such honour as it may afford; That glittering Symbol-sword!

All well-deserved, all worthily received! But think they cold ingratitude's slug-trail Dims not that blade? All generous spirits grieved That grudging party malice so should fail Of patriot magnanimity, and rail At the great chief who gave The sword they turned against him. Let the brave Join in one voice in shouting loud, "Well done!" To one who made _them_ One!

[Footnote A: See Cartoon, "Dropping the Pilot," pp. 50-51, Vol. 98, March 29, 1890.]

[Footnote B‡: "I am a weary old man."--_Prince Bismarck's speech in reply to his birthday congratulations._]

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Mrs. R.'S ABSTINENCE.--The good lady says, "My dear, I always like to strictly observe our Church's audiences, and so every Friday morning during Lent I invariably have a broiled skipper for breakfast."

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CONCENTRATION.--Mightn't the verdicts of separation or divorce be reported in the papers under the ordinary business heading of "Partnerships Dissolved"?

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DOING A CATHEDRAL.

(_A Sketch from the Provinces._)

SCENE--_The interior of Dulchester Cathedral._ TIME--_About 12.30._ _The March sunshine slants in pale shafts through the clerestory windows, leaving the aisles in shadow. From without, the cawing of rooks and shouts of children at play are faintly audible. By the West Door, a party of Intending Sightseers have collected, and the several groups, feeling that it would be a waste of time to observe anything in the building until officially instructed to do so, are engaged in eyeing one another with all the genial antipathy and suspicion of true-born Britons._

_A Stodgy Sightseer_ (_to his friend_). Disgraceful, keeping us standing about like this! If I'd only known, I'd have told the headwaiter at the "Mitre" to keep back those chops till----

[_He breaks off abruptly, finding that the chops are reverberating from column to column with disproportionate solemnity; a white-haired and apple-faced verger rustles down from the choir and beckons the party forward benignantly, whereupon they advance with a secret satisfaction at the prospect of "getting the cathedral 'done' and having the rest of the day to themselves;" they are conducted to a desk and requested, as a preliminary, to put sixpence apiece in the Restoration Fund box and inscribe their names in a book._

_Confused Murmurs._ Would you put "Portico Lodge, Camden Road, or only London?"... Here, I'd better sign for the lot of you, eh?... They _might_ provide a better pen--in a _cathedral_, I _do_ think!... He might have given all our names in full instead of just "And party"!... Oh, I've been and made a blot--will it _matter_, should you think?... I never _can_ write my name with people looking on, can _you?_... I'm sure you've done it beautifully, dear!... Just hold my umbrella while I take off my glove, MARIA.... Oh, why _don't_ they make haste? &c., &c.

[_The_ Stodgy Sightseer _fumes, feeling that, while they are fiddling, his chops are burning_.

_The Verger._ Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you will please to follow me, the portion of the building where we now are is part of the original hedifice founded by EALFRYTHA, wife of Earl BALDRIC, in the year height 'undred heighty-height, though we 'ave reason to believe that an even hearlier church was in existence 'ere so far back as the Roman occupation, as is proved by a hancient stone receptacle recently discovered under the crypt and hevidently used for baptismal purposes.

_A Spectacled S._ (_who feels it due to herself to put an intelligent question at intervals_). What _was_ the method of baptism among the Early Christians?

_The Verger._ We believe it to 'ave been by total immersion, Ma'am.

_The Spect. S._ Oh? _Baptists!_

[_She sets down the Early Christians as Dissenters, and takes no further interest in them._

_The Verger._ At the back of the choir, and immediately in front of you, is the shrine, formerly containing the bones of St. Chasuble, with relics of St. Alb. (_An_ Evangelical Sightseer _snorts in disapproval_.) The 'ollow depressions in the steps leading up to the shrine, which are still visible, were worn away, as you see, by the pilgrims ascending on their knees. (_The party verify the depressions conscientiously, and click their tongues to express indulgent contempt._) The spaces between the harches of the shrine were originally enriched by valuable gems and mosaics, all of which 'ave now long since disappeared, 'aving been removed by the more devout parties who came 'ere on pilgrimages. In the chapel to your left a monument with recumbent heffigies of Bishop _Buttress_ and Dean _Gurgoyle_, represented laying side by side with clasped 'ands, in token of the lifelong affection between them. The late Bishop used to make a rather facetious remark about this tomb. He was in the 'abit of observing that it was the honly instance in _his_ experience of a Bishop being on friendly terms with his Dean. (_He glances round for appreciation of this instance of episcopal humour, but is pained to find that it has produced a general gloom; the_ Evangelical Sightseer, _indeed, conveys by another, and a louder snort, his sense that a Bishop ought to set a better example_.) In the harched recess to your right, a monument in painted halibarster to Sir RALPH RINGDOVE and his lady, erected immediately after her decease by the disconsolate widower, with a touching inscription in Latin, stating that their ashes would shortly be commingled in the tomb. (_He pauses, to allow the ladies of the party to express a becoming sympathy--which they do, by clicks._) Sir RALPH himself, however, is interred in Ficklebury Parish Church, forty mile from this spot, along with his third wife, who survived him.

[_The ladies regard the image of_ Sir RALPH _with indignation, and pass on; the_ Verger _chuckles faintly at having produced his effect_.

_The Evangelical S._ (_snuffing the air suspiciously_). I'm sorry to perceive that you are in the habit of burning _incense_ here!

[_He looks sternly at the_ Verger, _as though to imply that it is useless to impose upon him_.

_The Verger._ No, Sir, what you smell ain't incense--on'y the vaults after the damp weather we've bin 'aving.

[_The_ Evangelical Sightseer _drops behind, divided between relief and disappointment_.

_A Plastic S._ (_to the_ Verger). What a perfectly _exquisite_ rose-window that is! For all the world like a kaleidoscope. I suppose it dates from the Norman period, at _least?_

_The Verger_ (_coldly_). No. ma'am, it was on'y put up about thirty year ago. _We_ consider it the poorest glass we 'ave.

_The Plast. S._ Oh, the glass, yes; _that's_ hideous, certainly. I meant the--the other part.

_The Verger._ The tracery, ma'am? That was restored at the same time by a local man--and a shocking job he made of it, too!

_The Plast. S._ Yes, it _quite_ spoils the cathedral, _doesn't_ it? Couldn't it be taken down?

_The Verger_ (_in answer to another Inquirer_). Crowborough Cathedral finer than this, Sir? Oh, _dear_ me, no. I went over a-purpose to 'ave a look at it the last 'oliday I took, and I was quite surprised to find 'ow very inferior it was. The spire? I don't say that mayn't be 'igher as a mere matter of feet, but our lantern-tower is so 'appily proportioned as to give the effect of being by far the 'ighest in existence.

_A Travelled S._ Ah, you should see the _continental_ cathedrals. Why, _our_ towers would hardly come up to the top of the naves of some of them!

_The Verger_ (_loftily_). I don't take no notice of foreign cathedrals, Ma'am. If foreigners like to build so ostentatious, all I can say is, I'm sorry _for_ them.

_A Lady_ (_who has provided herself with a "Manual of Architecture" and an unsympathetic Companion_). _Do_ notice the excessive use of the ball-flower as a decoration, dear. PARKER says it is especially characteristic of this cathedral.

_Unsympathetic Companion._ I don't see _any_ flowers myself. And if they like to decorate for festivals and that, where's the harm?

[_The Lady with the Manual perceives that it is hopeless to explain._

_The Verger._ The dog-tooth mouldings round the triforium harches is considered to belong to the best period of Norman work----

_The Lady with the Manual._ Surely not _Norman?_ Dog-tooth is Saxon, _I_ always understood.

_The Verger_ (_indulgently_). You'll excuse _me_, Ma'am, but I fancy it's 'erringbone as is running in _your_ 'ed.

_The Lady with the M._ (_after consulting "Parker" for corroboration, in vain_). Well, I'm sure dog-tooth is quite _Early English_, anyway. (_To her companion._) Did you know it was the interlacing of the round arches that gave the first idea of the pointed arch, dear?

_Her Comp._ No. But I shouldn't have thought there was so very much in the _idea_.

_The Lady with the M._ I do _wish_ you took more _interest_, dear. Look at those two young men who have just come in. They don't _look_ as if they'd care for carving; but they've been studying every one of the Miserere seats in the choir-stalls. That's what _I_ like to see!

_The Verger._ That concludes my dooties, ladies and gentlemen. You can go out by the South Transep door, and that'll take you through the Cloisters. (_The Party go out, with the exception of the two 'Arries, who linger, expectantly, and cough in embarrassment._) Was there anything you wished to know?

_First 'Arry._ Well, Mister, it's on'y--er--'aven't you got some old carving or other 'ere of a rather--well, _funny_ kind--sorter thing you on'y show to _gentlemen_, if you know what I mean?

_The Verger_ (_austerely_). There's nothing in _this_ Cathedral for gentlemen o' _your_ sort, and I'm surprised at your expecting of it.

[_He turns on his heel._

_First 'Arry_ (_to Second_). I spoke civil enough to _'im_, didn't I? What did 'e want to go and git the fair 'ump about?

_Second 'Arry._ Oh, _I_ dunno. But you don't ketch _me_ comin' over to no more cathedrils, and wastin' time and money all for nuthink--that's all!

[_They tramp out, feeling that their confidence has been imposed upon._

* * * * *

TO A GREEK AT "THE ORIENT."

At your dress I marvel mutely-- Green and white, with gold about; Grandly gay, you absolutely, Cut me out.

Like a lamp-shade is that nether Garment, yet, without a doubt, You look fine, and altogether Cut me out.

I, dull Englishman, am neatly Clothed in black and grey, without Any colours. You completely Cut me out.

She, whose smile is sweetly dimply, Pretty, even though she pout, Seems entranced. With _her_ you simply Cut me out.

She admires you, and she barely Looks at me, a sombre lout. Hang you, in that dress you fairly Cut me out.

* * * * *

GENTLE AND SOOTHING OCCUPATION FOR AN OARSMAN.--"Stroking an eight."

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* * * * *

MEETING A VERY OLD FRIEND.

(_A Postscript to a Well-known Work._)

ALICE was delighted with all she saw. Statesmen, generals, celebrities of every kind. Then there were marvellous animals--some ferocious, others satirical, every one of them as true to nature as could be.

"Where am I?" asked ALICE.

"In the gallery of the Fine Arts Society, 148, New Bond Street."

"And, please, who has done all these wonderful things?"

"The great J. T.," was the reply.

And then she fell to admiring them. She had some difficulty in getting to the drawings, for every picture was surrounded by a little crowd of worshippers. And she was not in the least surprised, because the devotion had been justly earned. Before her she found a specimen of the labours of nearly half a century. Everything good and beautiful.

"Dear me!" she murmured, as she approached No. 160 in the Catalogue. "Why here I am myself! I am so glad I am like that. What should I have been had I not had so kind an artist to sketch me?"

And the possibility opened out such a vista of disasters that ALICE was almost moved to tears. But she soon regained her gaiety when she had glanced at "_Winding 'em up_" (No. 161), "_A Bicycle built for Two_" (No. 148), and "_The Mask of Momus_" (No. 99).

"But shall I meet the Knights?" she asked, after a while. "I should, because I certainly am living in Wonderland."

Then there was a chorus crying, "This is the work of the Black and White Knight, the greatest of all the Knights--good Sir JOHN."

And ALICE agreed in an opinion held by all the world.

* * * * *

ANOTHER TESTIMONIAL TO THE G. O. M.--In recognition of his most recent contribution to sacred literature. Mr. G. is to be presented with the freedom of the Dry-Psalter's company.

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"QUOUSQUE TANDEM?" OR, ONE AT A TIME.

_Duologue in a Dog-cart._

_Driver._ Tc-c-c-h-k! Tc-c-c-h-k!!

_Officious Friend._ Steady there! Wo-o-o-a!!

_Driver_ (_aside_). Confound the fellow! I wish he wouldn't fidget so.

_Officious Friend_ (_aside_). _He_ drive tandem? Wish he'd hand the ribbons to _me!_

_Driver_ (_aloud_). Leader steps along, doesn't he?

_Officious Friend_ (_aloud_). Ya-a-s. Bit _too_ fast, I fancy. Forgets that the wheeler has to do the work.

_Driver._ Humph! Not so sure of that, in this case. Rather weedy, you know, and just a bit of a slug, if you ask me. _I_ think they'd do better reversed--this journey, anyhow.