Chapter 1

Produced by Neville allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

PUNCH,

OR, THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOLUME 98.

APRIL 19, 1890.

* * * * *

IN THE LANE.

_Monday._--_Carmen_ exceptionally excellent. Miss ZÉLIE DE LUSSAN, gifted with a light, pleasant voice, sang admirably. Can't have "_Trop de Zélie_." Mr. BARTON McGUCKIN, as _Don Jim-along-José_, did all that can be done with this weak-minded soldier. No holes to be picked in Mr. McG.'s performance, though there was a portion of his costume that would have been the better for the attention of Signor SOANSO, the Spanish tailor. Perhaps he is one of the "Renters" of Drury Lane. The strongest and most novel situation was the entrance of a horse, which, like the old woman who "lived on nothing but victuals and drink," "wouldn't be quiet," and nearly gave poor _Carmen_ fits. If it had given Mr. BARTON McGUCKIN fits--a pair of them--my previous allusion to the tailor would have lacked a tangible basis of fact. Fancy _Carmen_ frightened by an ordinary horse, not even a dray-horse, of which no Carmen would have been afraid!

_Tuesday and Friday.--Faust._ Signor RUNCIO, as _Faust_, up to the mark. Military band of soldiers returned from the wars had apparently conquered the drum of a British regiment. Signor ABRAMOFF (good as _Mephistopheles_) showed his generous disposition by sharing his red light with _Martha_ when he was talking to her.

_Wednesday.--Romeo and Juliet_, repetition of last week when the season commenced with GONOUD'S masterpiece. Scenery tested the resources of some of the greatest Drury Lane successes. The pantomime in the ball-room was particularly excellent and noticeable.

_Thursday.--Mignon_, represented by charming Miss MOODY. Supported by the dullest of _Lotharios_, Mr. F. H. CELLI. _Wilhelm_ played by a very small tenor--in fact one who looked like a CHILD. The cast good all round, and a crowded house enthusiastic. One of the best revivals of the season.

_Saturday._--WALLACE'S _Lurline_ in the evening, after _Carmen_ in the morning. "Troubador" just as enchanting as he was twenty years ago. "The silver river," too, "flows on" as sweetly as ever. Good house testifies to the love we all have for home-made music. On the whole a satisfactory week from every point of view. So far--all's well.

* * * * *

"A SOCIETY FOR THE STUDY OF INEBRIETY."

(_Notes by Mr. Punch's Own Reporter._)

ON the last occasion of the Meeting of the above Society a most interesting paper was read by Professor JAMES JAMBES, F.R.Z.S., describing a series of experiments to which, in the cause of Science, he had recently submitted himself. Commencing by comparatively small quantities of alcoholic stimulant, he gradually increased the doses until he reached a maximum of three bottles of Brandy and one of Green Chartreuse _per diem_, abandoning all other work during the period embraced by the experiments. After a fortnight of patient research he was rewarded by the discovery in his immediate neighbourhood of an abundance of blackbeetles, which he was unable to refer to any known species of _Orthoptera_. These were succeeded by reptiles and beasts of various kinds and colours, specimens of which, owing to their evasiveness, he much regretted to have been unsuccessful in securing. After increasing the dose to two bottles daily, he was able to detect the presence of rodents in large quantities. Subsequently these creatures assumed the most surprising shapes, while their colouring was frequently gorgeous in the extreme. He had made some brandy-and-water sketches of the most remarkable--though he had to apologise for the drawing being less accurate and clear than he could have wished, as the conditions were generally unfavourable for scientific observation. Still, they afforded a very fair idea of the principal phenomena which he had met. (_Cheers._) The Professor, in concluding, remarked that he himself had never been a Materialist, and that, after the experiences that attended the addition of the third bottle of brandy and the Green Chartreuse to his diurnal allowance, he could only confess that, in the words of the Poet, there were more--many more--things in heaven and earth than had been dreamed of in _his_ philosophy. Some of the imps, for instance, that he had noticed on the foot of his bed, he should never forget. He must ask indulgence for any short-comings both in the manner and matter of his contribution, on the ground that he was still suffering from severe indisposition, in consequence of the ardour with which his researches had been pursued. He felt that he was still only on the threshold, but he was fascinated by the glimpses he had already obtained of the strange and wonderful things with which the study of Advanced Inebriety would make the humblest of us increasingly familiar. (_Great cheering._)

The reading of the paper was followed by a discussion, in which Dr. LOSCHEN said, that he was in a position from his own experience to corroborate most of the statements in the very interesting account to which they had just listened. He thought the learned Professor had, if anything, rather underrated the dimensions of some of the snakes. He could see a particularly fine specimen at that moment under the Chairman's table, and would postpone any further remarks he was about to make.

Professor SQUIFFIE said he had not as yet brought his experiments so far as the last speakers. He was not a Naturalist himself. His line was Optics. He described some interesting cases of Double Refraction, Mock Suns, and Lunar Rainbows, that had come under his notice, before sitting down with some suddenness on the floor.

Mr. STAGGERS, F.H.S., R.C.V.S., said that most of his time had been devoted to the study of Seismatics. It was a fact not generally known that "earth tremors" were of almost nightly occurrence after eleven P.M. Some persons refused to believe that the world went round the sun, but he had seen it do so several times in the course of a single minute.

Mr. ORRERS wished to know whether any member present had formed any theory respecting the fantastic attire, particularly in the matter of head-dresses, affected by the _fauna_ encountered in the more advanced stages of Inebriety. Why, for example, should kangaroos, especially in Piccadilly, present themselves in the bonnets usually worn by Salvation lasses? And again, what natural affinity was there between the common rabbit and a fez cap? He asked the question because it had been upon his mind a good deal of late.

Mr. D. T. JUMPER said he merely desired to make one remark with regard to the pink rhinoceros, which Professor JAMES--or, if he might take the liberty of so describing him, "dear old JEM JAMBES"--had mentioned as having found in his bath. Speaking personally, he had never come across the pink variety of these interesting pachyderms. He had seen them green, or striped,--but not pink. Was it not just possible that his distinguished and excellent friend had been misled by some deficiency in his eyesight or the light on this occasion? With regard to imps, both blue and spotted, he could only say----but he was compelled to stop here, as he had barely time to catch the last train to his Retreat.

Mr. BOOSER said he wasn't scientific fler, like some other flers, still he flattered himself he was fler that knew as much about Inebriety as most flers, and if there was any fler there liked doubt his word, give him the lie--they understood what give him the lie meant--he repeated--give him the lie, why, what he wanted to know was, why didn't they have courage of their opinions? They knew where find him, and if they didn't--_he_ knew where find them. (_Uproar._)

The Meeting then broke up in some confusion, as the Chairman, having removed his boots during the proceedings, was unable to propose the customary vote of thanks to Professor JAMBES, who left the hall in a state of considerable excitement in consequence.

* * * * *

The Art Kaleidoscope may undoubtedly be found at 160, New Bond Street, where the Messrs. DOWDESWELLS are everlastingly giving it a turn. Before you have time to get tired of one show, the turn is made, and another reigns in its place. Yesterday it was Royal Berkshire, to-day it is pictures principally of the French School. There are some fine works by COROT, which, however, did not justify a weak-minded critic in calling the show "the Corotid Art-ery." Also examples of MONTICELLI, SEGANTINI the Italian, DAUBIGNY, TROYON, MUHRMAN, and other notable painters.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE ONLY REMEDY.

Pity a poor Home Secretary! Verily His days are hard, his nights can scarce wag merrily; But of all burdens on his mind distracted, Greatest must be that dread responsibility Where sense of justice wars with sensibility. _Punch_ hardly thinks the two have interacted This time with quite ideal force and fitness, And that the Public doubts, let the Press witness!

A loathsome story, sordid, brutal, sickening! Dull callousness to smug contrition quickening Under the spur of an ignoble terror, A hope scarce less ignoble--in expression, At least. Yes, calm judicial self-possession Is difficult, most easy trimming error; But compromise with claims conflicting _here_, Is scarce the course of equity one must fear.

The logic of it does not stand forth clearly; The public conscience fidgets, and feels queerly. Yes, to be arbiter, by law's compulsion, In such a case, with issues so immense, _Is_ hard, no doubt; the public common sense Against the arrangement turns with strong revulsion; And the right remedy, as all must feel, Is in a Court of Criminal Appeal!

* * * * *

* * * * *

SONG SENTIMENTIANA.

(_A Delightful "All-the-Year-Round" Resort for the Fashionable Composer._)

EXAMPLE III.--CONCERNING THE LOVER'S OBJECTION TO BEING HARD ON A PERSON.

I love you so! I love you so! It's funny, but I do-- In spite of what my parents know, And what they say, of you! No honest folks will near you go-- But wherefore should _I_ shrink? I only know I love you so, Whatever _they_ may think!

I love you so! I love you so! As I have sung before-- Although the heart you have to show Is rotten to the core! They say you oft to prison go; But wherefore _my_ dismay? I only know I love you so! I don't care what _they_ say!

I love you so! I love you so! As I will sing again. (In face of all the bills you owe, It's awfully insane!) What boots it that you _are_ my foe? Should that my passion mar? I only know I love you so!-- No matter _what_ you are!

I love you so! I love you so! As still again I'll sing, And sing a thousand times, although You stole my ruby ring! But what care I for suchlike show, So long as I have _thee_? I love you so! I love you so! _That's_ good enough for Me!

* * * * *

FIRST APPEARANCE OF THE SWISS-BACK RAILWAY.

(_By Our Easter Eggsperimentalist._)

I have no hesitation in asserting that Lynton and Lynmouth are frequently called the English Switzerland. I have seen such an announcement made in the local Guide-books, and heard the opinion adopted by many of the inhabitants. I am inclined to think that the name is not a misnomer, for certainly the twin villages, with their miniature manor-houses and cottage-like country-seats, are not unsuggestive of a German box of toys. But there is very little of the foreigner in the inhabitants. Rarely have I seen so much enthusiasm exhibited as on the occasion of the opening of the Cliff Railway, an event which came off on Easter Monday. The conveyance in question was suggestive of the Switchback, or perhaps of the Swissback, when local surroundings are taken into consideration. The inaugural programme was a long one. We had a procession, with some eccentric mummers garbed as "Ancient Foresters," an opening ceremony, with a Royal salute, fired by three Coastguardsmen, a banquet at the Valley of Rocks Hotel, life-boat exercise, and, finally, a grand display of fireworks. I took part in every function. I applauded the Ancient Foresters, in white beards and brown heads of hair. I was the earliest to use the railway. I made a speech at the banquet, I helped to man the life-boat, and, finally, I was the first to cry "O-o-o-o-o-h!" at the initial rocket of the grand display. So I think I may be allowed to say that I know something about the place and its inhabitants. _Imprimis_, Lynton has an excellent hotel, in the shape of the one to which I have already referred. Secondly, it has a great benefactor in the person of worthy Mr. NEWNES, M. P., the genial and clever Chairman of the Cliff Railway Company. Thirdly, the loveliness of the scenery is greatly enhanced by the fact that practically there are no residents (probably not half a dozen) in the neighbourhood. It is true that there is a villa here and there, but none of them is large enough in itself to spoil the effect of the rocks, the cascades, and the mountain passes. I admit that when I went to Lynton I was under the impression that I was going to take part in the inauguration of some score miles of railway, opening out a new route to the Far West. That this was an erroneous idea was more my fault than my misfortune. After trying on foot an ascent from Lynmouth to Lynton, I came to the conclusion that this line of railway was of far greater importance than any other in existence. That the track was rather less than a thousand feet, instead of being rather more than a million miles, I considered merely a matter of detail. Should it be necessary some day to dispense with the coach-journey from Barnstaple to Lynton--a journey which, on account of the exercise in which the travellers are encouraged to indulge on foot, must be of the greatest possible benefit to their health--why then the railway could be extended from point to point. All that would be required would be proportionately computed additional capital. The formula would run as follows:--If 900 feet of railway from Lynmouth to Lynton costs so much, 18 miles of railway from Lynton to Barnstaple will cost so much more. The simplest thing in the world! And with this practical suggestion for the future I conclude my report, with the observation that the twin villages of Lynton and Lynmouth deserve the greatest possible prosperity. Nature, represented by "Ragged Jack," the "Devil's Cheese Wring," and Watersmeet, is lovely beyond compare; and Art could have no better illustration than that furnished by the unsurpassed resources of the Valley of Rocks Hotel.

* * * * *

HUGHIE AND REGIE.--"On what sort of paper should a fellah who's awfully gone on a gal, don'tcher-know, write to his mash, eh?" "Why--on--_papier mashé_, of course." "Thanks awfully." (_Goes off to get some._)

* * * * *

"It's going to rain to-morrow," said Mrs. R., confidently--"I am sure of it, because I always read Professor BEN NEVIS'S remarks in the _Times_. What a clever man he is, and how useful!"

* * * * *

NOMENCLATURE.--Isn't it _the_ place _par excellence_ where umbrellas and waterproofs are in request? If not, why call it, Hayling Island?

* * * * *

"IN THE KNOW."

(_By Mr. Punch's Prophet._)

The collapse of _Gasbag_ can have surprised no careful reader of these columns. His public performances have been uniformly wretched, save and except on the one occasion when he defeated _Ranunculus_ in the Decennial Pedigree Stakes at Newmarket last year, and any fool could have seen that _Ranunculus_ had an off hind fetlock as big as an elephant's. That comes of training a good horse on Seidlitz powders and bran-mash. The muddy-minded moon-calves who chatter in their usual addle-pated fashion about the chances of _Jimjams_, ought to deceive nobody now that their insane folly has been exposed by me for about the thousandth time; but the general public is such a blathering dunderheaded ass that it prefers to trust itself to the guidance of men like Mr. JEREMY, who knows as much about a horse as he does about the Thirty-nine Articles. If _Jimjams_, with 9 lbs. advantage and a thousand sovereigns of added money, could only run a bad second to _Blue Ruin_, who, on the following day, romped in from _The Ratcatcher_ in a common canter,--_The Ratcatcher_ having simply spread-eagled _The Parson_ over the old D. T. course, when the ground was as heavy as Rotten Row in April,--how in the name of common sense can _Jimjams_ be expected to show up against high-class yearlings like _Ballarat_ and _Tifftoff_ on the Goodwin Sands, T. Y. C.? The whole thing is only another instance of the hare-brained imbecility and downright puddling folly with which the cackling herd will follow any brazen-headed nincompoop who sets up to advise them on turf matters. _Jimjams_ has just as much chance of winning this race as Mr. JEREMY has of being Archbishop of Canterbury. _Verb. sap._ At any rate my readers will not be able to reproach me with not warning them in time.

The latest rumour is that _Mrs. Grundy_ has gone lame after her trial with _The Vicar_. As I always predicted her break-down, I cannot say I am surprised, though I must own I should like to know what the pestilential pantaloons think of themselves who have been for months advising us to invest our money upon her. All BOOZING BILLY'S stock have come to grief, sooner or later. I thought Lord SOFTED was a fool to give £5,000 for such a mangy-coated weed as _Mrs. Grundy_. Now I know it.

Those who want a good thing ought to keep their eyes on _Toothpick_. When he met _Pepperpot_, at a stone less than weight for age, with a baby on his back, at Esher last year, the betting being then 20 to 7 against the _Harkaway_ filly, he showed what his true form was. _Pepperpot_, of course, is a rank impostor, but a careful man might do worse than put a spare threepenny-bit on _Toothpick_, who always runs better in a snow-storm. As for _Dutchman_, everybody knows he's not a flyer, and only a man whose brains are made of fish-sauce could recommend him.

* * * * *

* * * * *

"WANTED A WORD!"--Lord BURY wants a word to express electric action. Anything Lord BURY deals with should be of grave import. Attempting to find a new verb is quite an undertaking--to BURY. How would "bury" do? "We buried him;" meaning, "we electrified him." "We went along Bury well;" meaning, "the progress caused by electricity was satisfactory." "We 'Buried along' at a great rate," and so forth.

* * * * *

ROOKY WALKER!

SIR,--Perhaps you have read the stories now being told in the _Spectator_ about rooks and wasps as Policemen. "W.H.W.H." says that a pair of rooks were persecuted while building their nest, and that a big rook was deputed to guard them from attack--which he did, like other policemen, by employing the "beak." There is really nothing at all remarkable about this tale. Rooks are much more wonderful creatures than anybody knows about. In my own garden, for instance, there is a rook who acts as chaplain to a whole rookery. He might almost be called a "bird of pray." Every Saturday he assembles all the rooks on one large tree, and caws solemnly to them for ten minutes. I have noticed (through an opera-glass) that the congregation wears a very devout appearance. Churchwarden rooks go round while the service is proceeding, and peck any birds that seem inattentive. At the close there is a universal caw, which I believe stands for "Amen." It is a curious fact that the chaplain rook on these occasions always ornaments himself with a wisp of white grass tied round his neck, which increases his clerical aspect. I have tried to induce the rooks--by firing at them with small shot--to adopt Sunday instead of Saturday as their day of devotions, but hitherto without success. You may think the above worth publishing. It is quite true.

Yours, &c., LONGBOW.

SIR,--Here is a fact which beats "W.H.W.H.'s" rook story hollow. Rooks are keen politicians. I once saw an assembly of them--I don't know if it was the local Caw-cus or not--divide into two portions, one going to one tree, another to another, and then two elderly rooks went round, and counted both batches. After the counting was over they returned from the lobbies, and business proceeded as before. I have seen the closure very effectually put on a talkative rook.

Yours, VERACITY.

SIR,--I can confirm these tales of animal Policemen in every particular--indeed, I am able to add to them. I have often seen a couple of tom-tits, on leaving their nests for an outing, put a tom-tit constable on guard till they came back. But here is a still more remarkable circumstance. On one occasion several other tom-tits wanted to rob this deserted nest, and they actually came up to the constable and put something in his claw, after which he looked the other way while they were rifling the nest. _They had bribed him!_ Comment is superfluous.

Yours, KEEN OBSERVER.

* * * * *

Grandolph's Logic.

Your Purchase Bill is bad from top to toe-- Drop it, dear boys, then to the country go, And say 'twas through Gladstonian ill-will It lost that blessed boon, your bad, bad Bill!

* * * * *

LIVING AND LEARNING.--Sir, from a paragraph in _The Times_ about the Newfoundland Fisheries, I gather the existence of "Lobster Factories." Never knew this was an industry. Had always thought that Lobsters, like poets, were born, not made.

Yours, A NATURALIST.

* * * * *

L'ABBÉ INCONSTANTIN PARSONIFIED.

THE first impression of _A Village Priest_ is that, in one respect, Mr. GRUNDY has done well to choose the historical name of the execrable "Abbé DUBOIS," and bestow it on the _Curé_, who is meant to be the interesting hero of what, without him, would have been a sufficiently strong melodrama. The very A B C of the practice of the confessional being that everything between Priest and Penitent (even when the Penitent is impenitent) is _sub sigillo_, this Abbé can have, as the Grand Inquisitor in the _Gondoliers_ sings, "No possible probable shadow of doubt, No possible doubt whatever," as to his plain duty; and yet he demands of Heaven a miracle to show him how _not_ to do it. And to this pious request comes an answer (by limelight) which demonstrates once more how the Devil can quote Scripture to his purpose.

Frankly, Mr. GRUNDY has written three Acts of a play which must have been powerful had he not extended it to five, and, had he not attempted to centre the interest on a character which, charming as an incidental sketch, is, as an essential, an excrescence. Practically the play is at an end with the finish of the Third Act. Why lug in the _Abbé Constantin_? And what an Abbé!!