Part 1

Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Malcolm Farmer, Ernest Schaal and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 93. NOVEMBER 12, 1887.

THE LETTER-BAG OF TOBY, M.P.

FROM A HOME-SICK SECRETARY.

_By Guildford, Saturday._

Reminiscence of a celebrated and highly popular picture, adapted to the painful circumstance announced last week by _Truth_; namely, that the Chorister Boys at a certain Cathedral have all got the Mumps.

* * * * *

HIS FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE CAFÉ DES AMBASSADEURS.

_Love's Metamorphoses_ I sang of late, "My Unglenaverilled Glenaveril" Puzzled the Public's unpoetic pate. Wit, like my sire's imaginary _Vril_, Is thaumaturgic. I have served the State In various ways with elegance and skill; But _my_ "last Metamorphosis," I opine, Out of Glenaveril's wholly takes the shine.

From "OWEN MEREDITH," of Servian song, Translator (who said through the French?) to this! The course, like my Serb falcon's flight, is long. The proletariat possibly may hiss. I scorn the anserine Gladstonian throng, Whose mouthpiece is the _Gaily Dews_. I wis That nickname shows a polish and a fire Of wit well worthy my prodigious Sire.

When I wrote _Aux Italiens_ long ago (And _Trovatore_ rhymed with purgatory) I little thought Paris one day should know The bard in an Ambassador's full glory. Ah! I shall miss the Oriental show Of Ind--but that is scarce a pleasant story, And, after all, I fancy that my _Charis_ Had always, more or less, a touch of Paris.

"_Lucile_," for instance! Well, I've wandered far From my old _Wanderer_ days; _tout mieux_, perchance. Better to be a diplomatic star Than a poetic shade. Beloved France, To ape thy _jeunesse dorée_ will not jar Upon my spirit, which is all romance: I love the blend of the sublime and finical, Of chivalry, choice cookery, and the cynical.

CHAMBERLAIN--_did_ I dub him once a scold, A leaner, later _Casca_? I was wrong-- Is off to Canada, and BALBO bold (I called him bilious once, but 'twas in song) Is with us now, I hope the league may hold. Who now dubs JOSEPH--though of course he's strong-- "The secret despot of a Cabinet, That dare not disregard his faintest threat?"

Forgive the thought, _Cæcilius_! Whether JOE _Has_ put his foot in it, and bowed still more Your "large Olympian forehead," I don't know; But I can see that it must be a bore To have your diplomats run wild. I go With other purpose to a nearer shore; And soon I hope your confidence to win, And prove no ass, though in the LYONS' skin!

* * * * *

The "Wild West" finished up rather tamely. Lord LORNE and others, with, we presume, the Honourable BUFFALO BILL CODY, palavered about an International Arbitration Court. If the Hon. and Rev. BILL--"Reverend" because, as he tells us, he once performed the part of a clergyman and married a couple, pronouncing a formula which, being a close parody on the words of the solemn rite, need not be repeated here, though they evidently struck him as a bright idea,--has anything to do with it, we shall hear of the rules of this new Court (not Earl's Court) being at once codi-fied.

* * * * *

RESTITUTION WITH RESIGNATION.--M. WILSON gave up 40,000 francs' worth of postage. Will M. GRÉVY give up the post altogether?

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ANOTHER MOTTO FOR AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS.--He does not say, "Peace with Honour," but "Piece with MERRITT."

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"THE ROUGH ELEMENT"--last week, was--the Sea.

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Jenny Lind.

_Born at Stockholm, October 6, 1821. Married Herr Otto Goldschmidt, February 5, 1852. Died, November 2, 1887._

"She never lost her interest in the two chief objects of her life, music and charity."--_Times._

Music and Charity! Of all things mortal, What sweeteners of our lives may match these twain? What draweth hearts nearer the heavenly portal Than mercy's impulse, melody's moving strain? Well chosen, singer sweet! Great gifts, and the large love of giving meet, Well harmonised in JENNY LIND'S career; These made her life delight, these make her memory dear.

_Punch_, of well-fitting phrases ready minter, Christened his favourite forty years ago; Hailed as "The Nightingale that Sings in Winter,"[A] The Swedish songstress whom the voice of woe Moved ever, as her own Moved the applauding multitude; alone, Amidst the stars of Opera's tuneful quire, To succour ever prompt as potent to inspire!

"Dear JENNY LIND!" So then his song addressed her Who still is "JENNY LIND," and still is dear. Though Genius praised, and Fashion's crowd caressed her, She sank not, like some stars, below her sphere Into those darkening mists Whose taint the true and tender heart resists. Her nature fame was powerless to soil, Whom splendour hardened not, and puffery could not spoil.

How the crowd rushed and crushed, and cheered and clamoured, Forty years syne, to hang upon her song! Of _La Sonnambula's_ heroine enamoured, Thrilled by the flute-like trillings sweet as strong Of their dear Nightingale. _Amina_, _Lucia_, _Alice_, each they'd hail With fervent plaudits, in whose flush and stir Love of her silvery song was blent with love of her.

And each well earned! The crowd would press and jostle To hear their favourite warbler, from whose throat, Clear as the lark, and mellow as the throstle, The limpid melody would soar and float. Now like a shattered lute, The Nightingale who sang in winter's mute; But long remembered that pure life shall be, To Music dedicate and vowed to Charity.

[A] See _Punch_, Vol. XVI., p. 15.

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* * * * *

"THE BEARING OF IT LIES IN THE APPLICATION."

"Spare no efforts to maintain the magnificent inheritance which has descended from your forefathers," said Mr. CHAMBERLAIN, when bidding a temporary good-bye to Birmingham.

Well, it is a magnificent inheritance, and most certainly it is our duty, as well as our interest, to maintain it. But how? Magnificent as it is, it has certain incumbrances; memories of wrongs unredressed, actualities of mismanagement unremoved. To maintain _these_ is not to improve the inheritance, and enable us to hand it down better worth maintaining by those who will inherit it from us. As stewards of the splendid patrimony of empire, we must not only keep it together, but properly--that is, justly and sagaciously--administer it, which, indeed, is the only sure and safe way of maintaining it. The accumulated mortgage of our ancestors' errors and misdeeds is, unfortunately, but inevitably, a part of our "inheritance." To pay it off may seem a burdensome duty, but a duty it is, in the resolute doing, not the haughty ignoring or cowardly shirking, of which we shall be at least as truly "maintaining our inheritance," as by stroke of sword, or statute of coercion. _Verb. sap_.

* * * * *

We see a book advertised by Messrs. KEGAN, PAUL & CO., called _Tertium Quid_. Ask an Eton Boy, about Christmas time, or when he is going back to school, what is the translation of _Tertium Quid_, and he will probably hold out his hand and reply, "The third sovereign--but I'll take one to go on with, or to go off with." Well, you can "owe him one" for that.

* * *

WHAT'S IN A NAME?--The person who ought to write a weird Christmas story is, evidently, the Author of _Bootles' Baby, That Imp!_ &c., JOHN STRANGE WINTER.

* * *

MOTTO FOR THE NEW LORD MAYOR.--"_Aut Keyser aut nullus._"

* * * * *

THE FISHERS. (_Some way after Kingsley._)

The Fishers went sailing North, South, East, and West, And they raised lots of rows ere the sun went down. Each fancied the foreigners' waters the best, And wished in those waters to let his nets down. And Commissions must work and Statesmen must weep, And weary with trying the peace for to keep, Whilst the Public heart is groaning.

The Smack-owners rush to Lord SALISBURY'S side, And genial JOSEPH'S to Canada gone; And the end of this selfishness, temper, and pride, Will be a great big all-round fight ere all's done, Unless men will try their hot tempers to keep, And establish some rule of fair-play on the deep, For which honest hearts are all moaning.

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POLITICAL SEPULTURE.--The Senior Member for Northampton lately told his constituents that:--

"The Conservatives were digging their own graves, and it was about the only good and sensible thing they possibly could do."

But if they wanted an interment, the Home-Rulers could supply them with a SEXTON ready and willing to save them that trouble.

* * *

"THE SCARCITY OF HARES."--It is so stated. But it's only a bald statement.

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LETTS' DIARIES.--There are two sorts of Letts: The Out-Letts for 1887, and the In-Letts for 1888. Letts get 'em.

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SHOWS VIEWS.

_By Victor Who-goes-Everywhere._

Last week was remarkable for a number of _Matinées_. There were two, each with a new Play, at the Vaudeville, in preparation apparently for the disappearance of _Sophia_. The Author of one of the pieces was, I fancy, Mr. JONES (the name fixed itself on my memory), but I am not quite so sure about the others. I rather think the first play was written in collaboration possibly by Messrs. BROWN and ROBINSON to complete the immortal _trio_. However, the morning performance _par excellence_, was the production of a new and original poetical drama in five Acts, called _Nitrocris_, by GEO. GRAVES, at Drury Lane. This was really a very interesting occasion, as we were taken back to B.C. 1420, and I must admit that I too was rather taken aback when I found the Early Egyptians talking of the "Pharmacopoeia," and many other matters of a yet more recent date. I supposed this was local colouring, and when I saw the "Banquetting Hall in the Palace," I felt sure that the Egyptian Court represented belonged to the Nineteenth Century, and could be easily discovered (either by season ticket or on payment of a shilling) in Sydenham. The Author supplies a note in the official programme, in which she informs the World that AMUN-MYKERA NITOCRIS was "handsome among women, and brave among men, and governed for her husband with great splendour and much justice, though she is rebuked by several of the ancient historians for her cruelty and sensuality," and no doubt these facts have suggested the five long Acts of the more or less poetical play. What story there is shows how the adopted son of and apprentice to an Embalmer, after being left to die in the Palace of _Nitocris_ for refusing to join in an unpatriotic toast, escapes, and twelve weeks later is lured back once more to the Royal realms to reject the suddenly-kindled love of the Egyptian Queen in favour of the affection of a Grecian orphan called _Soris_, who happens to be staying on a visit with her swarthy Majesty. Then _Soris_ gets half-poisoned and entirely stabbed, and _Nitocris_ and the Embalmer's Apprentice repair to a "stretch of desert in the neighbourhood of the Pyramids," to be drowned in an inundation which is much talked about but never seen. As the Embalmer's Apprentice, Mr. J. H. BARNES fostered the impression that he was either a very slow and dull pupil, or that the art of embalming had taken him a middle-aged lifetime to thoroughly acquire. In the last act he looked like a portly Friar of Orders Grey sadly in need of the fast rising Nile. Mr. ROBERT PATEMAN was good as a nigger _Quasimodo_, who apparently had nothing in particular to do save to murder Miss ALMA MURRAY when that popular young _tragédienne's_ sorrows became monotonous and required curtailment in the interests of the audience. Mr. FERNANDEZ too was useful as Chief of the Magi, and Mr. BERNARD GOULD'S performance would have been more pleasing had he really died at the end of the Second Act, instead of living to see the final fall of the curtain. But this last was rather the Author's than the actor's fault. Personally I should have been better satisfied had every one died at the end of the First Act, but I confess I am a little exacting. On Wednesday, after the "principals" had been called and received more or less applause, there was a cry for the Authoress, when to my surprise a lady in a semi-masculine costume and seemingly in her "teens," made her way before the curtain. This was young "CLO,"--a most charming person to judge from her personal appearance. There was a further "call" when a gentleman of much maturer years was seen bowing. I do not know if he was also a "CLO,"--if so, he was unquestionably a much older "CLO"--in fact, quite an elderly "CLO." Ages ago a wonderful piece called _Nitocris_ was played at Drury Lane for a few nights with moderate success. In it was represented an inundation, that, if it did not precisely resemble the waters of the rising Nile, at any rate was a capital realisation of green-coloured muslin sprinkled with spangles. I am afraid that young "CLO'S" poetical play will not keep the stage much longer than its predecessor.

It was my good fortune to be present at the opening of the Manchester Exhibition (which _Mr. Punch_ very appropriately christened the "Gem of the Jubilee,") and on Thursday last I again paid it a visit with about sixty-five thousand other persons. In spite of the hurricane of the preceding Monday, the building was in an excellent condition, and the reproduction of the old part of the ancient city had weathered the storm as if it had been intended to remain for a thousand years instead of half-a-dozen months. I was much struck with the extreme good-nature of a Lancashire crowd. In the afternoon a severe shower of rain, which I fancy must have come down from Town by the 10.10 Express from Euston (a train which maintained the tradition of the L. & N. W. R. by arriving to the minute) drove all the pleasure-seekers from the grounds into the building, and for a moment there was an "ugly block." Immediately the police and the other officials organised a stream right and left, and when it was found that there were many schools amongst the sight-seers, a cry of "Make way for the children!" secured the safety of the little ones. The picture galleries were as popular as ever, and I observed that the crowd generally gathered in dense masses near the paintings with historical events as their subjects. The arrival of the Princess of WALES at Gravesend was particularly favoured, and some regret was expressed that the Benchers of the Middle Temple had required the return of the portrait by HOLL of their Royal Treasurer. The splendid display of the works of Mr. WATTS did not attract much attention, one lady observing that it was "a pity that they had not been finished," and their opposite neighbours by Mr. BURNE-JONES, were also a little above the heads (in more senses than one) of the average shilling public. But LANDSEER, MILLAIS, POYNTER and HOLMAN HUNT had thousands of earnest admirers, and there were always enthusiastic groups in front of "_The Derby Day_" and "_Ramsgate Sands_." It was delightful to walk through the galleries devoted to this unique, this magnificent collection of purely native Art, only saddened by the reflection that such an opportunity would never offer itself again. The machinery, from another point of view, was nearly as interesting. I have been present at many Exhibitions, but have never seen anything to equal the display of "works in operation." Both visitors and "hands" seemed to be equally in earnest; the first to watch, and the second to work. Then the music was excellent, as, indeed, it was obliged to be to satisfy the requirements of Manchester connoisseurs, who are not to be put off with second-rate bands. Lastly, the illuminated fountains were absolutely fairy-like with their colours reflected from below the water-line. And this reminds me there was also something else fairy-like--the _table d'hôte_ dinner served in the Conservatory, which seemed (with its many courses, of the daintiest proportions) to be exactly suited to the wants of _Titania_ and (if he took the hint printed on the menu, and "requiring extra quantities of any of the dishes," asked for more) of the robuster _Oberon_. The captious might certainly have objected that the dessert would have been more satisfactory had nut-crackers been supplied with the walnuts. I asked for a pair, but was told by my waiter that he could get me none. No doubt this little defect will be remedied when the contractor fulfils his intention of catering next year at the Brussels Exhibition. But this is a detail. For the rest, the Manchester celebration of the Fiftieth Year of Her Majesty's reign has been worthy of the occasion; and my second visit has fully confirmed the opinion (that was expressed in May last) that the leading town of Lancashire has produced the Gem of the Jubilee.

* * * * *

JAW-HOLDING.