Chapter 2

Where are the familiar details? Where the ancient snuffbox, where his snuffy old pocket-handkerchief? And where the old well-thumbed breviary from which he is inseparable? M. LAFONTAINE as the _Abbé Constantin_, _the_ man to the life, was never without the "old black book," under his arm. The Haymarket Abbé takes his meals without blessing himself, by way of saying grace, and fumbles about the heads of people who ask his benison, like an awkward phrenologist feeling for bumps. And what kind of an Abbé would he be who would tell a young girl that, "when she comes to be as old as he is, she will have learnt to doubt everything?" Is it characteristic of a French Abbé to complain of his housekeeper "lighting his fire with his sermons?" It would be quite in keeping with the type of an English Clergyman, who, as a rule, preaches from a written sermon; but not of a French Priest, who preaches without book or manuscript. No; the _Abbé Dubois_ is the _Abbé Constantin_ spoilt, a French _Curé_ Anglicised into a pet Ritualistic Clergyman, ROBERT-ELSMERE'd-all-over by Mr. GRUNDY, and finally im-parson-ated by Mr. BEERBOHM TREE. Wasn't it Mr. BEERBOHM TREE who, years ago, created the original of the Bath-bun-eating comical Curate, in _The Private Secretary_? Well, this is the same comical Clergyman grown older, and with the burden on, what he is pleased to call, his mind of a dying scoundrel's last speech and confession. The strongest objection he has to violate his sacred trust arises from the fear that such a revelation would break the heart of an exemplary old Goody Two-Shoes, for whom he has all his life long cherished a youthful love, the thought of which, and not his supernatural vocation, has sustained him, so I understood him to say, throughout his priestly career. All very pretty and "pale young Curatey," and theatrically sentimental, but don't put this man forward as the self-sacrificing hero of a Melodrama. No; the subject is best let alone. Mr. GRUNDY seems to have rushed in where wiser men have feared to tread, and thoroughly to have "put his foot in it," all for the sake of transplanting _L'Abbé Constantin_, whom he has transformed into _L'Abbé In-Constantin_.

The piece is beautifully put on the stage, and accepting the story as worked out by Mr. GRUNDY'S characters, the acting is excellent all round. There are two powerful situations, one in the First Act between the Judge's son, Mr. FRED TERRY, and the innocent victim, Mr. FERNANDEZ, admirably played; and another in the Second between Mr. TERRY and Miss LECLERCQ, also rendered with considerable power. Little Miss NORREY'S shrill squeak, or scream, or whatever it is, at the end of the First Act, imperils the situation, and might be toned down with advantage, as also might her spasmodic melodramatic acting later in the piece. Mrs. TREE'S is a pretty part, but not a strong one. To sum up, apart from the two situations I have cited, I should say, that what will linger in the memory of man when it runneth not to the contrary, is not the false sentiment, but the real water which fills the real watering-pot, the blossoming apple-tree, and, above all, the stolidly-chivalrous Mr. ALLEN as _Captain of Gendarmes_. By the way, the exterior of the presbytery is that of a small cottage. Excellent. The interior, representing the Abbé's sitting-room, is a large and lofty Gothic cell--a regular cell--capable of holding two such presbyteries as we have just seen from outside. But there--it is another lesson--never judge by appearances.

To return for the last time to the _dramatis personæ_, everyone who sees this play will regret that the Author has not bestowed as much pains on the character of the _Captain of Gendarmes_ as he has on the maudlin water-pottering old _Curé_. The drama, after the Third Act, is lugubrious. Why not lighten the general depression by bringing on the _Captain of Gendarmes_ to the "_Boulanger March_," and making him as amusing as _Sergeant Lupin_ in _Robert Macaire_? The piece is well mounted, why should not the Gendarmes be also mounted? There are four or six of them. What an effect has been missed by not bringing them in on real horses, and giving them a quartette or a sestette _à cheval_, with a solo for the Captain! Then the Captain might know all about the murder, and _he_ would reveal it without breaking the seal--unless it were to crack a bottle--and all would end happily. As it is, all ends miserably, or would so end, but for the Captain, whose last words before the fall of the Curtain, uttered in his best French, are "_Ong Avong! Marsh!_" From which it may be inferred that they are going into a dismal swamp, but it is magnificent, if not _la guerre_, and this cry of the Captain has a true military ring about it that gladdens the heart of

Yours ever, PRIVATE BOX.

* * * * *

A CHANT FOR THE COLLEGE OF SURGEONS.

[Lord DUNRAVEN is going to introduce a Bill to reform the College of Surgeons.]

Lo! they raise the gleaming scalpels, and the fearsome feuds begin 'Twixt the Members of the College that is hard by Lincoln's Inn.

College once of Barber Surgeons, but the Barbers left the Guild To the "Company of Surgeons," by whom we are cured or killed.

And the College grants diplomas two-and-twenty inches long; After which, in cutting limbs off, sure the tyro can't go wrong.

He can practise all the Surgeons' art and science; worded thus Is the motto, "Arts," the College says, "_quæ prosunt omnibus_."

But unless by operations he amasses store of pelf, It is clear the arts in question will not benefit himself.

Yet the Members are not happy, and with energy they say, They should have a voice in choosing those who over them hold sway.

Sir MORELL MACKENZIE slashes at the College with a will; Lord DUNRAVEN to his rescue comes with promise of a Bill.

Haply from this Æsculapian combat we may chance to see Fairer future for the College, though the Doctors disagree.

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NEWS OF THE EMIN-ENT TRAVELLER.--Mr. STANLEY was received at Rome by the Marquis de VITELLESCHI, who gave him some "vitels," and by the Duke de SERMONETA, who gave him a sermon. How nice to be H. M. STANLEY!

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FROM CERTAIN WORKING-MEN TO GRANDOLPH.----"We don't like these 'ere erpinions o' yourn, and we 'opes as you won't 'Old'em."

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"A CUT OFF THE JOINT."

_Swish! swish!_ Sweet is the sound of steel 'gainst steel To him who's hungering for a good square meal. This joint is juicy, and the carver skilled, But many plates are waiting to be filled. The Restaurant is famed for popular prices, A clever Cook, and oh! such whopping slices! What wonder then that customers are clamorous, That appetites, of good cheap victuals amorous, Sharpen at sight of that big toothsome joint? The carver does not wish to disappoint; He is no Union Bumble, stingy, truculent, He knows his dish is savoury and succulent, That "Cut and Come again's" a pleasant motto, But deal out "portions" all this hungry lot to? Amphitryon feels the thing cannot be done, Though he should slice the saddle to the bone With all the deftness of a Vauxhall Waiter. First come first serve! some claims are less, some greater; Some of them may secure a well-piled plateful, Others, though the necessity be hateful, Empty away must go. Won't there be grumblings, Waterings of mouths and hunger-gendered rumblings! But the great Surplus-Joint, although a spanker, Won't satiate all the appetites that hanker After a solid slice of it. Cook GOSCHEN Of careful carving has a neatish notion, Yet, though his skill be great, his judgment sound, He will not make that whopping joint "go round."

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A BABE O' GRACE.

[MR. CHAMBERLAIN says that "MR. GLADSTONE'S Home Rule Policy was conceived in secresy, was born in deceit, and was nurtured on evasion."]

Poor Babe (whom kind Nurse C. so fain would throttle) Ill was thy fate, fed from the GLADSTONE bottle! Nurture less harsh had ROMULUS and REMUS. Nurse C. would, oh! so gladly, "NICODEMUS The bantling into Nothing." Yet it lives And kicks and crows, and lots of trouble gives, This happy Baby on the tree-top dangling Whilst friends and foes about thy fate are wrangling! When the wind blows--ah! then the world shall see What a prophetic soul has kind Nurse C. Its face, perchance, had been more bright and bland Could kind Nurse C. have "brought it up by hand," As _Mrs. Gargery_ did the infant "_Pip_." Nay, there are some who on the hint let slip That kind Nurse C. had never wished it slain Had it but in another _Chamber lain_!

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Look at Home!

GRANDOLPH says that "Local Self-Government" should precede "Purchase." Probably he may find a little "Local Self-Government" (of tongue and temper) necessary to enable him to "purchase" the continued support of the Voters of South Paddington!

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EXIT IN FUMO.

[The birthday gifts from the Emperor to Prince BISMARCK include, besides his portrait, a long and valuable pipe.]

O solace of sore hearts, soul-soothing pipe! Was ever trail-exhausted Indian, Tired mariner, or hungry working-man, Or sore-tried toiler, of whatever type, More needed comfort from thy blessed bowl Than brooding BISMARCK in his exiled hour? He who, when storms about his land did lour, Faced them, and rode them out, and to the goal Of glory, and to safety's haven brought His mighty charge! Memories of foes outfought, And rivals out-manoeuvred, stir his soul, His strong stark soul, as there he sits and shrouds That granite face in thick tobacco-clouds Blown from the "long, and valuable" gift Wherewith a grateful Master's genial thrift Rewards the service, "long and valuable," Of such a Servant! Later time shall tell The tale of that strange parting, of the schemes That set asunder autocratic youth And age, perchance, imperious. But, in truth, Wise age discounts the worth of boyish dreams; 'Tis well that youth, betimes, should bear the yoke! Maybe the Mighty Chancellor's career Is far less like, whatever may appear, Than the proud Emperor's plans to--end in smoke!

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* * * * *

USEFUL WARNING.

"Will you walk into my parlour?" Said the spider to the fly. 'Twas the money-lending spider, And "Oh no!" was the reply. "I've read the _Globe_, and I'm secure, With legs and wings still free! No buzzi-ness with you. No! Your 'Fly-paper' won't catch me."

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OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

In _The Splendid Spur_, "Q." has given his Pegasus his head--(Queer appearance this Pegasus with Q.'s head; but, as that's not my meaning, I must mind my P's and Q's)--and has spared neither whip nor splendid spur in his wild ride. Up behind, and clinging to "Q.," we are carried onward, amid clashing of arms, booming of cannon, pealing of bells, flashing of steel; anon we stumble over rocks, tumble over cliffs, hide in secret caves, secrete ourselves, like mad Lord High Chancellors, among Woolsacks; then after fainting, stabbing, dying, crying, sighing, "JACK'S all alive again," and away we gallop, like DICK TURPIN on Black Bess, and we leave girls dressed as boys behind us, and provincial JOANS OF ARC going out fighting for Church and King; and then, just as we are hanging suspended in mid-air over an awful precipice, there is a last gallant effort, and we awake to find ourselves gasping for breath, and awake to the fact that "Q.'s Pegasus" is a nightmare. It recalls memories of LOUIS STEVENSON'S _Black Arrow_, but distances it by miles, while here and there its vivid descriptions are equal to some of the glowing pictures in SHORTHOUSE'S _John Inglesant_. The Baron hereby recommends it as a stirring work for the novel-skipper in an idle hour.

By the way, it would be difficult, to say the least of it, to prove that the slang phrase "shut up" and the Americanism "say" were never used in A.D. 1642, in the sense in which they are used in 1890, but they are scarcely characteristic of the modes of expression at that particular period.

BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

* * * * *

A SONG _WITH_ WORDS.

(_Suggestively dedicated to Lord Bury._)

Oh! tell me not that you will "clic" When I can but "electricate," Or, "propelected," merely "tric" A distance I might well "volate." For if to "Faradate" or "Volt" In "motored" motion I may "glide," I wonder why I may not "bolt," When called on to "electricide." Yet as each word I clip and splice, I'm more than half inclined to "trice."

Let others "elk" until they're wild, I will not "lectroceed" or "glint," And though their trip be "poled" or "piled" I need not "coil," or "spark," or "scint." No, if "electroflected" force They use to "clash" along their way, I p'raps might "ohm" upon my course Or even "squirm," if "clicked" to-day. "But no! the _Times_ gives sound advice, As matters stand, I think I'll "trice"!

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OUR ADVERTISERS.

THE DON JOSÉ GIANT GRAPE GINGER BEER.--Don JOSÉ DI GOMEZ, Marquis of MAXILLO, Duke of BAGOTA, Grandee of Spain, Knight Grand Commander of the Order of the Purple Alligator, G.R.M.C.S.S., &c., &c., having, owing to some recent financial losses in connection with his ancestral estates in South Patagonia, determined to listen to the advice of experts and friends, who assure him that he possesses a complete mine of wealth in the Giant Grape Vineyards, for which his Sicilian property has long been celebrated, has made all the necessary arrangements for the manufacture of a sound and serviceable sparkling Wine, which, under the title of the DON JOSÉ GIANT GRAPE GINGER BEER, he is now prepared to supply to the general public at a moderate cost.

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THE DON JOSÉ GIANT GRAPE GINGER BEER.--Is a delicious light sparkling wine, soft and smooth on the palate, of a Madeira flavour, possessing a bottled stout character, and if mixed with water strongly resembling the choicest brands of Old Burgundy, Hock, and Californian Claret, shipped from the estate direct, in cases containing one dozen, at 7_s._

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THE DON JOSÉ GIANT GRAPE GINGER BEER.--This exquisite beverage is also possessed of valuable medicinal advantages, and is highly recommended by the faculty as a most successful and beneficial cough mixture.

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"THE LATEST SPRING NOVELTY."--A Fine Day.

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THOUGHTS ON HIS WINE-MERCHANT.

I love my Wine-merchant--he talks with a charm That robs his most dubious vintage of harm. And the choicest Havanas less comforting are Than the fumes of his special commended cigar.

I'm a reticent man, with a palate of wood, And I judge by results if a vintage be good. But I own to the charm of my Wine-merchant's worst, If he gives me his comforting flattery first.

He proffers me samples to praise or to blame, And I strongly suspect they're exactly the same. But we gaze at each other with critical eye, And I wish he would hint if it's fruity or dry.

I want, say, a dozen of average stuff (Though a couple of bottles were really enough), And I enter his portals, reluctant and slow, Resolved just to give him the order and go.

But he takes me in hand in his soothering style, Suggests in a whisper, and "books" with a smile; And I vainly dissemble the joy in my face When he ceases to ply me with bottle and case.

The talk drifts away to affairs of the State, And I ought to escape, but I palter and wait; And he opens a box in the midst of his chat, And asks, like a flash, my opinion of "that"?

I sniff the tobacco, and turn it about With an air that is really of genuine doubt, And knowing so little what judges would say, I meekly consent to a hundred--and pay.

There's a charm, when the varied consignment arrives, To men who are blest with amenable wives; But I watch my AMANDA with covert alarm, And wait till she severs the Wine-merchant's charm.

* * * * *

MRS. R. is always instructing herself. She has been reading up legal technicalities. "The names," she says, "in some cases are so appropriate. I am informed that in a Divorce case, where the husband is the petitioner, the Judge issues a writ of '_Fie Fie_' against the wife."

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MR. PUNCH'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.

JOURNALISTIC.

"_At the Duchess of Drinkwater's fashionable reunion, held last night, I noticed among the first-comers, &c._;" _i.e._, I got all my information, when it was over, as well as I could, from an inebriated linkman.

"_What is this we hear about a certain----?_" We're not certain of our authority, but can't miss the opportunity of being first in the field with the rumour of a scandal, so we put it into an interrogatory form, which can't do any harm to _us_.

"_The greatest excitement prevails_;" _i.e._, Two men who were not present on the occasion discuss it under a lamp-post and the influence of liquor.

SOCIAL.

"_You must come and dine with me one night_;" _i.e._, "It sounds hearty, but as a fixture I'll relegate it to the Greek Kalends."

"_How well you are looking!" (to a Gentleman)_; _i.e._, "You are getting awfully stout, and must drink more than is good for you." _Ditto, ditto (to a Lady)_; _i.e._, "Your figure and complexion are entirely gone."

AUCTIONEERING.

"_Old Historic House_;" _i.e._, Dormer windows, dark rooms, and the dry rot.

"_High-class Furniture_;" Another term for mahogany.

"_Superior Ditto_;" An adjective reserved for walnut.

"_Solid Ditto_;" When there is no other epithet possible.

"_Elegant Modern Ditto_;" In the gimcrack pseudo-æsthetic style.

"_Handsome Ditto_;" _i.e._, Consoles, any amount of mirrors, gilding, crimson silk, ormolu--all a little "off colour."

OF A FRIEND'S NEW HORSE.

"_Ah! Well put together_;" _i.e._, "He's screwed all round."

PLATFORMULARS.

"_We have no personal quarrel with our opponents_;" _i.e._, "They said some dreadfully rude things about me last night. Hope one of the local speakers will give them a trouncing afterwards, _I'm_ expected to be polite."

"_I congratulate you upon the growth of your Association, and the excellent political work it is doing in this district_;" _i.e._, "Know nothing about it, except what the pasty-faced Secretary has just crammed me with, but must butter them a bit."

"_Your admirable Member, whose voice we hear only too seldom in the House_;" _i.e._, "A silent 'stick' whose silence is his only merit."

"_No words of mine are necessary to commend this vote of thanks to your good will. You all know your Chairman_;" _i.e._, How long will that stammering idiot be allowed to preside at these meetings?

PARLIAMENTARY.

"_Of course I withdraw_;" _i.e._, "Of course I don't."

"_Of course, Sir, I bow to your ruling_;" _i.e._, "I'm sure you're wrong."

"_Of course I accept the Honourable Gentleman's explanation_;" _i.e._, "Can't _tell_ him he's a liar!"

"_When I entered the House to-night it was with no thought of being called upon to address you_;" _i.e._, "I _should_ have been mad if I'd missed the chance of letting off my long-stored rhetorical fireworks!"

AT A DANCE.

"_May I have the pleasure?_" _i.e._, "Wish to goodness she'd refuse, but no such luck!"

"_Delighted!_" _i.e._, "I'd as soon dance with a tipsy Mammoth."

"_Awfully sorry, but I haven't one dance left;_" _i.e._, "I've three, but if I'd thirty, he shouldn't have one, the lemon-headed little cad!"

"_I think I see Mamma looking for me;_" _i.e._, "Must get rid of the bore somehow."

A LITTLE MUSIC.

"_Oh, will you play us that sweet little thing of yours in five flats?_" _i.e._, "It isn't sweet, but it is short, which is something--with him!"

"_Won't you give us just one song, Mr. Howler? I won't ask you for more_;" _i.e._, "Wouldn't for that, if I could help it."

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MODERN TYPES.

(_By Mr. Punch's Own Type-writer._)

No. IX.--THE ADVERTISING BARRISTER.

The Advertising Barrister may best be defined as the living and pushing embodiment of self-assertion and impudence. He is not of those who by a life of steady and honourable toil attain eventually to the high places of their profession, whether at the Bar or in Parliament, without losing the respect and friendship of their fellows. These too in the race of life must pass many of the feebler runners, and force themselves by their own merit into places that others would fain have occupied, but they always run straight, their practice and their performance are disfigured by no trick, and in the end they bring their honour untarnished to the goal, and receive the applause even of their vanquished rivals. With them the Advertising Barrister has no point in common, save the robes he wears in virtue of his call. For his ambition is as sordid as the means whereby he attempts to fulfil it are questionable. He must be credited with the knowledge that his natural abilities are by themselves insufficient to assure him either fame or wealth. But he consoles himself by reflecting that if only impudence, _réclame_, and a taste for the arts of a cadger, be protected by the hide of a rhinoceros, they are certain to prevail up to a certain point against the humdrum industry of those inferior beings who hamper themselves with considerations of honour and good-feeling. It must not be understood that the Advertiser puffs himself in a literal sense in the advertising columns of the press. The rules of his profession, to which even he pays an open deference, forbid this enormity; but in the subtler methods of gaining a certain attention, and of keeping his name under the public eye, he has no equal even in the ranks of those who spend thousands in order that the million may be made happy with soap.