Chapter 1

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

VOL. 98.

FEBRUARY 8, 1890.

UNTILED; OR, THE MODERN ASMODEUS.

"Très volontiers," repartit le démon. "Vous aimez les tableaux changeans: je veux vous contenter."

_Le Diable Boiteux._

XIX.

"A Late Symposium! Yet they're not engaged In compotations. Argument hath raged Four hours by the dial; But zealotry of party, creed, or clique Marks not the clock, whilst of polemic pique There's one unvoided vial."

So smiled the Shade. Dusk coat and gleaming head, Viewed from above, before my gaze outspread Like a black sea bespotted With bare pink peaks of coral isles; all eyes Were fixed on one who reeled out rhapsodies In diction double-shotted.

A long and lofty room, with pillars cold, And spacious walls of chocolate and gold; The solid sombre glory Of tint oppressive and of tasteless shine, Dear to the modern British Philistine, Saint, sceptic, Whig, or Tory.

"No Samson-strength of intellect or taste Shall bow the pillars of this temple chaste Of ugliness and unction. What is't they argue lengthily and late? The flame of patriot passion for the State Fires this polemic function.

"A caitiff Government has done a thing To make its guardian-angel droop her wing In sickened indignation: That is, has striven to strengthen its redoubts, Perfidious 'Ins,' to foil the eager 'Outs.' Hence endless execration.

"Hence all Wire-pullerdom is up in arms; With clarion-toned excursions and alarms The rival camp is ringing. Hence perky commoners and pompous peers, 'Midst vehement applause and volleying cheers, Stale platitudes are stringing.

"The British Public--some five hundred strong-- Is here to 'strangle a Gigantic Wrong,'-- So MARABOUT is saying. Watch his wide waistcoat and his wandering eyes, His stamping boots of Brobdingnagian size, Clenched hands, and shoulders swaying.

"A great Machine-man, MARABOUT! He dotes On programmes hectographed and Party votes. For all his pasty pallor And shifty glance, he has the mob's regard, And he is deemed by council, club, and ward A mighty man of valour.

"A purchased henchman to a Star of State? Perhaps. But here he'll pose and perorate, A Brutus vain and voluble. And who, like MARABOUT, with vocal flux Of formulas, can settle every _crux_ That wisdom finds insoluble?

"'Hear! hear!' That shibboleth of shallow souls Around his ears in clamorous cadence rolls; He swells, he glows, he twinkles; The sapient Chairman wags his snowy pate, Whilst cynic triumph, cautious yet elate, Lurks laughing in his wrinkles.

"And there sits honest zeal, absorbed, intent, And cheerfully credulous. MARABOUT has bent To the Commercial Dagon He publicly derides; but many here Will toast 'his genuine grit, his manly cheer,' Over a friendly flagon.

"Look on him later! There he snugly sits With his rich patron. Were it war of wits That wakes their crackling chuckles, They scarce were heartier. It would strangely shock MARABOUT'S worshippers to hear him mock The 'mob' to which he truckles.

"Truckles in platform speech. In club-room chat With WAGSTAFF, shrewd wire-puller, flushed and fat, Or DODD, the rich dry-salter, You'd hear how supply he can shift and twist, How BRUTUS with 'the base Monopolist' Can calmly plot and palter,"

"Whilst MARABOUTS abound, O Shade," I cried, "What wonder men are 'Mugwumps?'" Then my guide Laughed low. "The æsthetic villa Finds Shopdom's zeal on its fine senses jar; Yet the Mugwumps Charybdis stands not far From the Machine-man's Scylla.

"Culture derides the Caucus for its heat, Its hate--its absence of the Light and Sweet, So jays might flout the vulture. Partisan bitterness and purblind haste? Come, view the haunts of dilettante Taste, The coteries of Culture!

"Here _Savants_ wrangle o'er a fossil bone, CHAMPER, with curling lip and caustic tone, At RUDDIMAN is railing. CHAMPER knows everything, from PLATO'S text To Protoplasm; yet his soul is vext, His cheeks with spite are paling.

"Why? Because RUDDIMAN, the rude, robust, Has pierced with logic's vigorous vulgar thrust The shield of icy polish. CHAMPER, in print, is hot on party-hate, Here his one aim is in the rough debate His rival to demolish.

"Sweet Reasonableness? Another host Of sages see! The habits of the Ghost, The Astral Body's action, Absorb them, eager. Does more furious fire The councils of the Caucusites inspire, Or light the feuds of faction?

"And there? They argue out with toil intense A 'cosmic' poet's esoteric sense, Of which a world, unwitting, Recks nothing. Yet how terribly they'd trounce Parliament's pettifogging, and denounce 'Political hair-splitting'!"

"O Shade, the difference is but small, one dreads. Betwixt logomachists at loggerheads, Whether their theme be bonnets Or British interests. Zealot ardour burns Scarce fiercer o'er Electoral Returns Than over SHAKSPEARE'S Sonnets.

"At MARABOUT the Mugwump sniffs and sneers; Gregarious 'votes of thanks' and sheepish 'cheers' Stir him to satire scornful. But when sleek Culture apes, irate and loud, The follies of the Caucus and the Crowd, The spectacle is mournful."

"True!" smiled the Shade. "Yon supercilious sage, With patent prejudice and petty rage, Penning a tart jobation On practised Statesmen, must as much amuse As Statesmen-sciolists venting vapid views On rocks and revelation."

(_To be continued._)

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THE SOUTH-EASTERN ALPHABET.

A was the Anger evinced far and wide; B was the Boat-train delayed by the tide; C was the Chairman who found nothing wrong; D was the Driver who sang the same song; E was the Engine that stuck on the way; F stood for Folkestone, reached late every day; G was the Grumble to which this gave rise; H was the Hubbub Directors despise; I was the Ink over vain letters used; J were the Junctions which some one abused; K was the Kick "Protest" got for its crimes; L were the Letters it wrote to the _Times_; M was the Meeting that probed the affair; N was the Nothing that came of the scare; O was the Overdue train on its way; P was the Patience that bore the delay; Q was the Question which struck everyone; R the Reply which could satisfy none; S was the Station where passengers wait; T was the Time that they're bound to be late; U was the Up-train an hour overdue; V was the Vagueness its movements pursue; W stood for time's general Waste; X for Ex-press that could never make haste; Y for the Wherefore and Why of this wrong; And Z for the Zanies who stand it so long!

* * * * *

STARTLING FOR GOURMETS.--"_Bisques_ disallowed." But it only refers to a new rule of the Lawn Tennis Association; so "_Bisque d'écrevisses_" will still be preserved to us among the _embarras de richesse_--(_i.e._ the trouble caused subsequently by the richness,--_free trans._)--of a thoroughgoing French dinner.

* * * * *

THE NEW TUNE.

_Le Brav' Général tootles_:--

Heroes bold owe much to bold songs. What's that? "Cannot sing the old songs"? Pooh! 'Tis a Britannic ditty. Truth, though, in it,--more's the pity! "_En revenant de la Revue._" People tire of that--too true! I must give them something new. Played out, Frenchmen? _Pas de danger!_ Whilst you've still your _Brav'_ BOULANGER!

Do they think BOULANGER "mizzles," After all his recent "fizzles"? (Most expressive slang, the Yankee!) _Pas si bête_, my friends. No thank ye! Came a cropper? Very true! But I remount--my hobby's new, So's my trumpet. Rooey-too! France go softly? _Pas de danger!_ Whilst she has her _Brav'_ BOULANGER!

Cannot say her looks quite flatter. Rather scornful. What's the matter? Have you lost your recent fancy For me and my charger prancy? Turn those eyes this way, now _do_! Mark my hobby,--not a screw! Listen to my _chanson_ new! BISMARCK flout you? _Pas de danger!_ _He's_ afraid of _Brav'_ BOULANGER.

Of your smile be not so chary! The sixteenth of February Probably will prove my care is The especial charge of Paris. Then you'll know that I am true. "_En revenant de la Revue_;" Stick to me, I'll stick to you. Part with you, sweet? _Pas de danger!_ Not the game of _Brav'_ BOULANGER!

* * * * *

THE CAPTAIN OF THE "PARIS."

Captain SHARP, of the Newhaven steamer, _Paris, you_'re no craven; Grim and growling was the gale that you from your dead reckoning bore; And, but for your brave behaving, she might never have made haven, But have foundered in mid-Channel, or been wrecked on a lee-shore. With your paddle-floats unfeathered, wonder was it that you weathered Such a storm as that of Sunday, which upset our nerves on land, Though in fire-side comfort tethered. How it blew, and blared, and blethered! All your passengers, my Captain, say your pluck and skill were grand. Much to men like you is owing, when wild storms around are blowing, As they seem to have been doing since the opening of the year: Howling, hailing, sleeting, snowing; but for captains calm and knowing, Passage of our angry Channel were indeed a task of fear. Well, you brought them safely through it, when not every man could do it, And your passengers, my Captain, are inspired with gratitude. Therefore, _Mr. Punch_ thus thanks you, and right readily enranks you, As a hero on the record of our briny island brood. Verily the choice of "_Paris_" in this case proved right; and rare is Fitness between name and nature such as that _you_ illustrate. Captain SHARP! A proper _nomen_, and it proved a prosperous omen To your passengers, whom _Punch_ must on their luck congratulate.

* * * * *

ON BOARD THE CHANNEL STEAMER "PARIS" (_Night of Saturday, January 25, 1890_).--"SHARP'S the word!"

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* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

The title of the second chapter of _The Days of the Dandies_, in _Blackwood_, is calculated to excite curiosity,--it is, "Some Great Beauties, and some Social Celebrities." After reading the article, I think it would have been styled more correctly, "A Few Great Beauties." However, it is discursively amusing and interesting. There is much truth in the paper on Modern Mannish Maidens. I hold that no number of a Magazine is perfect without a tale of mystery and wonder, or a ghost-story of some sort. I hope I have not overlooked one of these in any Magazine for this month that I have seen. Last month there was a good one in _Macmillan_, and another in _Belgravia_. I forget their titles, unfortunately, and have mislaid the Magazines. But _After-thoughts_, in this month's _Macmillan_, is well worth perusal.

My faithful "Co." has been looking through the works of reference. He complains that _Dod's Peerage, Baronetage, and Knighthood for 1890_ is carelessly edited. He notes, as a sample, that Sir HENRY LELAND HARRISON, who is said to have been born in 1857, is declared to have entered the Indian Civil Service in 1860, when he was only three years old--a manifest absurdity. As _Mr. Punch_ himself pointed out this _bêtise_ in _Dod's &c., &c., for 1889_, it should have been corrected in the new edition. "If this sort of thing continues," says the faithful "Co.," "_Dod_ will be known as _Dodder_, or even _Dodderer_!" Sir BERNARD BURKE'S _Genealogical and Heraldic Dictionary of the Peerage and Baronetage_ is, in every sense, a noble volume, and seems to have been compiled with the greatest care and accuracy. KELLY'S _Post Office Directory_, of course, is a necessity to every man of letters. _Whitaker's Almanack for 1890_ seems larger than usual, and better than ever. WEBSTER'S _Royal Red Book_, and GARDINER'S _Royal Blue Book_, it goes without saying, are both written by men of address. _The Century Atlas and Gazetteer_ is a book amongst a hundred. Finally, the _Era Almanack for 1890_, conducted by EDWARD LEDGER, is, as usual, full of information concerning things theatrical--some of it gay, some of it sad. "Replies to Questions by Actors and Actresses" is the liveliest contribution in the little volume. The Obituary contains the name of "EDWARD LITT LEMAN BLANCHARD," dramatist, novellist, and journalist, who died on the 4th of September, 1889. It is hard to realise the _Era Almanack_ without the excellent contributions of poor "E. L. B.!"

"Co." furnishes some other notes in a livelier strain:--

_Matthew Prior._ (KEGAN PAUL.) If you are asked to go out in this abominable weather, shelter yourself under the wing of Mr. AUSTIN DOBSON, and plead a prior engagement. (Ha! Ha!) You will find the engagement both prior and profitable. Mr. DOBSON'S introductory essay is not only exhaustive, but in the highest degree interesting, and his selection from the poems has been made with great taste and rare discretion.

_In the Garden of Dreams._ The lack of poets of the softer sex has been recently a subject of remark. Lady-novelists we have in super-abundance, of lady-dramatists we have more than enough, of lady-journalists we have legions--but lady-poets we have but few. Possibly, they flourish more on the other side of the Atlantic. At any rate we have a good example of the American Muse in the latest volume by Mrs. LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON. This little book is full of grace, its versification is melodious, and has the genuine poetic ring about it, which is as rare as it is acceptable. It can scarcely fail to find favour with English readers.

BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & CO.

* * * * *

EPIDEMIOLOGICAL.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,--The Camel is reported to be greatly instrumental in the spread of cholera. This is evidently the Bacterian Camel, whose humps--or is it hump?--have long been such a terror to those who really don't care a bit how many humps an animal has.

Yours faithfully, HUMPHRY CAMPBELL.

* * * * *

To THOSE WHO GET THEIR LIVING BY DYEING.--"Sweet Auburn!" exclaimed a ruddy, aureate-haired lady of uncertain age,--anything, in fact, after fifty,--"'Sweet Auburn!'" she repeated, musingly, "What does 'Sweet Auburn' come from?" "Well," replied her husband, regarding her _coiffure_ with an air of uncertainty, "I'm not quite sure, but I think 'Sweet Auburn' should be GRAY."

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MR. PUNCH'S MORAL MUSIC-HALL DRAMAS.

No. V.--BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE.

_A Melodramatic Didactic Vaudeville, suggested by "The Wooden Doll and the Wax Doll." By the Misses Jane and Ann Taylor._

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

_Blanchidine_,} By the celebrated SISTERS STILTON, the Champion _Brunette_. } Duettists and Clog-dancers.

_Fanny Furbelow._ By MISS SYLVIA SEALSKIN (_by kind permission of the Gaiety Management_).

_Frank Manly._ By MR. HENRY NEVILLE.

SCENE--_A Sunny Glade in Kensington Gardens, between the Serpentine and Round Pond_.

_Enter_ BLANCHIDINE _and_ BRUNETTE, _with their arms thrown affectionately around one another_. BLANCHIDINE _is carrying a large and expressionless wooden doll_.

_Duet and Step-dance._

_Bl._ Oh, I do adore BRUNETTE! (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, tappity-tippity, tippity-tappity, tip-tap!

_Br_. BLANCHIDINE'S the sweetest pet! (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.

_Together._ When the sun is high, We come out to ply, Nobody is nigh, All is mirth and j'y!

With a pairosol, We'll protect our doll, Make a mossy bed For her wooden head!

[_Combination step-dance, during which both watch their feet with an air of detached and slightly amused interest, as if they belonged to some other persons._

Clickity-clack, clickity-clack, clickity, clickity, clickity-clack; clackity-clickity, clickity-clackity, clackity-clickity-_clack_!

[_Repeat ad. lib._

_Bl._ (_apologetically to Audience_). Her taste in dress is rather plain! (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.

_Br._ (_in pitying aside_). It _is_ a pity she's so vain! (_Dances._) Tippity-tappity, &c.

_Bl._ 'Tis a shime to smoile, But she's shocking stoyle, It is quite a troyal, Still--she mikes a foil!

_Br._ Often I've a job To suppress a sob, She is such a snob, When she meets a nob! [_Step-dance as before._

[_N.B.--In consideration of the well-known difficulty that most popular variety-artists experience in the metrical delivery of decasyllabic couplets, the lines which follow have been written as they will most probably be spoken._

_Bl._ (_looking off with alarm_). Why, here comes FANNY FURBELOW, a new frock from Paris in! She'll find me with BRUNETTE--it's too embarrassing!

[_Aside._ _To Brunette._ BRUNETTE, my love, I know _such_ a pretty game we'll play at-- Poor TIMBURINA'S ill, and the seaside she ought to stay at. (The Serpentine's the seaside, let's pretend,) And _you_ shall take her there--(_hypocritically_)--you're such a friend!

_Br._ (_with simplicity_). Oh, yes, that _will_ be splendid, BLANCHIDINE, And then we can go and have a dip in a bathing-machine!

[BLAN. _resigns the wooden doll to_ BRUN., _who skips off with it_, L., _as_ FANNY FURBELOW _enters_, R., _carrying a magnificent wax doll_.

_Fanny_ (_languidly_). Ah, howdy do--_isn't_ this heat too frightful? And so you're quite alone?

_Bl._ (_nervously_). Oh, _quite_--oh yes, I always am alone, when there's nobody with me.

[_This is a little specimen of the Lady's humorous "gag," at which she is justly considered a proficient._

_Fanny_ (_drawling_). Delightful! When I was wondering, only a little while ago, If I should meet a creature that I know; Allow me--my new doll, the LADY MINNIE!

_[Introducing doll._

_Bl._ (_rapturously_). Oh, what a perfect love!

_Fanny_. She ought to be--for a guinea! Here, you may nurse her for a little while. Be careful, for her frock's the latest style.

[_Gives_ BLAN. _the wax doll_.

She's the best wax, and has three changes of clothing-- For those cheap wooden dolls I've quite a loathing.

_Bl._ (_hastily_). Oh, so have _I_--they're not to be endured!

_Re-enter_ BRUNETTE _with the wooden doll, which she tries to press upon_ BLANCHIDINE, _much to the latter's confusion_.

_Br._ I've brought poor TIMBURINA back, completely cured! Why, aren't you pleased? Your face is looking so cloudy!

_F._ (_haughtily_). Is she a friend of _yours_--this little dowdy?

[_Slow music._

_Bl._ (_after an internal struggle_). Oh, no, what an idea! Why, I don't even know her by name! Some vulgar child ...

[_Lets the wax doll fall unregarded on the gravel._

_Br._ (_indignantly_). Oh, what a horrid shame! I see _now_ why you sent us to the Serpentine!

_Bl._ (_heartlessly_). There's no occasion to flare up like turpentine.

_Br._ (_ungrammatically_). I'm _not_! Disown your doll, and thrust me, too, aside, The one thing left for both of us is--suicide! Yes, TIMBURINA, us no more she cherishes-- _(Bitterly.)_ Well, the Round Pond a handy place to perish is!

[_Rushes off stage with wooden doll._

_Bl._ (_making a feeble attempt to follow_). Come back, BRUNETTE; don't leave me thus, in charity!

_F._ (_with contempt_). Well, I'll be off--since you seem to prefer vulgarity.

_Bl._ No, stay--but--ah, she said--what if she _meant_ it?

_F._ Not she! And, if she did, _we_ can't prevent it.

_Bl._ (_relieved_). That's true--we'll play, and think no more about her.

_F._ (_sarcastically_). We may _just_ manage to get on without her! So come--(_perceives doll lying face upwards on path_)--you odious girl, what have you done? Left LADY MINNIE lying in the blazing sun! 'Twas done on purpose--oh, you _thing_ perfidious! [_Stamps._ You _knew_ she'd melt, and get completely hideous! Don't answer _me_, Miss--I wish we'd never met. You're only fit for persons like BRUNETTE!

[_Picks up doll, and exit in passion._

_Grand Sensation Descriptive Soliloquy, by_ BLANCHIDINE, _to Melodramatic Music._

_Bl._ Gone! Ah, I am rightly punished! What would I not give now to have homely little BRUNETTE, and dear old wooden-headed TIMBURINA back again! _She_ wouldn't melt in the sun.... Where are they now? Great Heavens! that threat--that rash resolve ... I remember all! 'Twas in the direction of the Pond they vanished. (_Peeping anxiously between trees._) Are they still in sight?... Yes, I see them! BRUNETTE has reached the water's edge.... What is she purposing! Now she kneels on the rough gravel; she is making TIMBURINA kneel too! How calm and resolute they both appear! (_Shuddering._) I dare not look further--but, ah, I must--_I must!_... Horror! I saw her boots flash for an instant in the bright sunlight; and now the ripples have closed, smiling over her little black stockings!... Help!--save her, somebody!--help!... Joy! a gentleman has appeared on the scene--how handsome, how brave he looks! He has taken in the situation at a glance! With quiet composure he removes his coat--oh, _don't_ trouble about folding it up!--and why, _why_ remove your gloves, when there is not a moment to be lost? Now, with many injunctions, he entrusts his watch to a bystander, who retires, overcome by emotion. And now--oh, gallant, heroic soul!--now he is sending his toy terrier into the seething water! (_Straining eagerly forward._) Ah, the dog paddles bravely out--he has reached the spot ... oh, he has passed it!--he is trying to catch a duck! Dog, dog, _is_ this a time for pursuing ducks? At last he understands--he dives ... he brings up--agony! a small tin cup! Again ... _this_ time, surely--what, only an old pot-hat!... Oh, this dog is a fool! And still the Round Pond holds its dread secret! Once more ... yes--no, yes, it _is_ TIMBURINA! Thank Heaven, she yet breathes! But BRUNETTE? Can she have stuck in the mud at the bottom? Ha, she, too, is rescued--saved--ha-ha-ha!--saved, saved, saved!

[_Swoons hysterically, amid deafening applause._

_Enter_ FRANK MANLY, _supporting_ BRUNETTE, _who carries_ TIMBURINA.

_Bl._ (_wildly_). What, do I see you safe, beloved BRUNETTE?

_Br._ Yes, thanks to his courage, I'm not even _wet_!

_Frank_ (_modestly_). Nay, spare your compliments. To rescue Beauty, When in distress, is every hero's duty!

_Bl._ BRUNETTE, forgive--I'm cured of all my folly!

_Br._ (_heartily_). Of course I will, my dear, and so will dolly!

[_Grand Trio and Step-dance, with "tippity-tappity," and "clickity-clack" refrain as finale._

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