VOLUME 98, JUNE 7TH 1890

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_

VOCES POPULI.

AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY.

IN THE VESTIBULE.

_Visitors ascending staircase, full of enthusiasm and energetic determination not to miss a single Picture, encounter people descending in various stages of mental and physical exhaustion. At the turnstiles two Friends meet unexpectedly; both being shy men, who, with timely notice, would have preferred to avoid one another, their greetings are marked by an unnatural effusion, and followed by embarrassed silence._

_First Shy Man (to break the spell)._ Odd, our running up against one another like this, eh?

_Second Shy Man._ Oh, very odd. (_Looks about him irresolutely, and wonders if it would be decent to pass on. Decides it will hardly do._) Great place for meeting, the Academy, though.

_First S. M._ Yes; sure to come across _somebody_, sooner or later.

[_Laughs nervously, and wishes the other would go._

_Second S. M. (seeing that his friend lingers)._ This your _first_ visit here?

_First S. M._ Yes. Couldn't very well get away _before_, you know.

[_Feels apologetic, without exactly knowing why._

_Second S. M._ It's _my_ first visit, too. (_Sees no escape, and resigns himself._) Er--we may as well go round together, eh?

_First S. M. (who was afraid this was coming--heartily)._ Good! By the way, I always think, on a first visit, it's best to take a single room, and do that thoroughly. [_This has only just occurred to him._

_Second S. M. (who had been intending to follow that plan himself)._ Oh, _do_ you? Now, for _my_ part, I don't attempt to see anything _thoroughly_ the first time. Just scamper through, glance at the things one oughtn't to miss, get a general impression, and come away. _Then_, if I don't happen to come again, I've always _done_ it, you see. But (_considerately_), look here. Don't let me drag you about, if you'd rather not!

_First S. M._ Oh, but I shouldn't like to feel I was any tie on you. Don't you mind about me. I shall potter about in here--for hours, I daresay.

_Second S. M._ Ah, well (_with vague consolation_), I shall always know where to _find_ you, I suppose.

_First S. M._ (_brightening visibly_). Oh dear, yes; _I_ shan't be far away.

[_They part with mutual relief, only tempered by the necessity of following the course they have respectively prescribed for themselves. Nemesis overtakes the_ Second S. M. _in the next Gallery, when he is captured by a Desultory Enthusiast, who insists upon dragging him all over the place to see obscure "bits" and "gems," which are only to be appreciated by ricking the neck or stooping painfully_.

_A Suburban Lady (to Female Friend)._ Oh dear, _how_ stupid of me! I _quite_ forgot to bring a pencil! Oh, _thank_ you, dear, that will do _beautifully_. It's just a _little_ blunt; but so long as I can _mark_ with it, you know. You don't think we should avoid the crush if we began at the end room? Well, perhaps it _is_ less confusing to begin at the beginning, and work steadily through.

IN GALLERY NO. I.

_A small group has collected before_ Mr. WYLLIE'S "Davy Jones's Locker," _which they inspect solemnly for some time before venturing to commit themselves to any opinion_.

_First Visitor (after devoting his whole mind to the subject)._ Why, it's the Bottom of the Sea--at least (_more cautiously_), that's what it seems to be _intended_ for.

_Second V._ Ah, and very well done, too. I wonder, now, how he managed to stay down long enough to paint all that?

_Third V._ Practice, I suppose. I've seen writing done under water myself. But that was a tank!

_Fourth V. (presumably in profound allusion to the fishes and sea-anemones)._ Well, they seem to be 'aving it all their own way down there, don't they? [_The Group, feeling that this remark sums up the situation, disperses._

_The Suburban Lady (her pencil in full play)._ No. 93. Now what's _that_ about? Oh, "_Forbidden Sweets_,"--yes, to be sure. _Isn't_ that charming? Those two dear little tots having their tea, and the kitten with its head stuck in the jam-pot, and the label and all, and the sticky spoon on the nursery table-cloth--so _natural_! I really _must_ mark that. (_Awards this distinction._) 97. "_Going up Top._" Yes, _of course_. Look, LUCY dear, that little fellow has just answered a question, and his master tells him he may go to the top of the class, do you _see_? And the big boy looking so sulky, he's wishing he had learnt his lesson better. I do think it's _so_ clever--all the different expressions. Yes, I shall _certainly_ mark that!

IN GALLERY NO. II.

_The S. L. (doubtfully)._ H'm, No. 156. "_Cloud Chariots_"? Not very _like_ chariots, though, _are_ they?

_Her Friend._ I expect it's one of those sort of pictures that you have to look at a long time, and then things gradually come _out_ of it, you know.

_The S. L._ It may be. (_Tries the experiment._) No, _I_ can't make _anything_ come out--only just clouds and their reflections. (_Struggling between good-nature and conscientiousness._) I _don't_ think I _can_ mark that.

IN GALLERY NO. III.

_A Matron (before_ Mr. DICKSEE'S "_Tannhaeuser_"). "_Venus and Tannhaeuser_"--ah, and is that Venus on the stretcher? Oh, _that's_ her all on fire in the background. Then which is Tannhaeuser, and what are they all supposed to be doing? [_In a tone of irritation._

_Her Nephew._ Oh, it tells you all about it in the Catalogue--he meets her funeral, you know, and leaves grow on his stick.

_The Matron (pursing her lips)._ Oh, a _dead person_.

[_Repulses the Catalogue severely and passes on._

_First Person, with an "Eye for Art" (before "Pysche's Bath," by the President)._ Not bad, eh?

_Second Person, &c._ No, I rather like it. (_Feels that he is growing too lenient._) He doesn't give you a very good idea of marble, though.

_First P. &c._ No--_that's_ not marble, and he always puts too many folds in his drapery to suit _me_.

_First P. &c._ Just what _I_ always say. It's not natural, you know. [_They pass on, much pleased with themselves and one another._

_A Fiance (halting before a sea-scape, by_ Mr. HENRY MOORE, _to Fiancee_). Here, I say, hold on a bit--what's _this_ one?

_Fiancee (who doesn't mean to waste the whole afternoon over pictures)._ Why, it's only a lot of waves--_come_ on!

_The Surburban L._ LUCY, _this_ is rather nice. "_Breakfasts for the Porth!_" (_Pondering._) I think there must be a mistake in the Catalogue--I don't see any breakfast things--they're cleaning fish, and what's a "Porth!" Would you mark that--or not?

_Her Comp._ Oh, I _think_ so.

_The S. L._ I don't know. I've marked such a quantity already and the lead won't hold out much longer. Oh, it's by HOOK, R. A. Then I suppose it's _sure_ to be all right. I've marked it, dear.

_Duet by Two Dreadfully Severe Young Ladies, who paint a little on China._ Oh, my _dear_, look at that. Did you ever see such a thing? Isn't it too perfectly _awful_? And there's a thing! Do come and look at this horror over here. A "_Study_," indeed. I should just think it _was_! Oh, MAGGIE, don't be so satirical, or I shall die! No, but _do_ just see this--isn't it _killing?_ They get worse and worse every year, I declare! [_And so on._

IN GALLERY NO. V.

(_Two Prosaic Persons come upon a little picture, by_ Mr. SWAN, _of a boy lying on a rock, piping to fishes._)

_First P. P._ _That's_ a rum thing!

_Second P. P._ Yes, I wasn't aware myself that fishes were so partial to music.

_First P. P._ They may be--out there--(_perceiving that the boy is unclad_)--but it's peculiar altogether--they look like herrings to me.

_Second P. P._ Yes--or mackerel. But (_tolerantly_) I suppose it's a fancy subject. [_They consider that this absolves them from taking any further interest in it, and pass on._

IN GALLERY NO. XI.

_An Old Lady (who judges Art from a purely Moral Standpoint, halts approvingly before a picture of a female orphan)._ Now, that really _is_ a nice picture, my dear--a plain black dress and white cuffs--just what I _like_ to see in a young person!

_The S. L. (her enthusiasm greatly on the wane, and her temper slightly affected)._ LUCY, I _wish_ you wouldn't worry so--it's quite impossible to stop and look at _everything_. If you wanted your tea as badly as _I_ do! Mark that one? What, when they neither of them have a single _thing_ on! Never, LUCY,--and I'm surprised at your suggesting it! Oh, you meant the next one? h'm--no, I _can't_ say I care for it. Well, if I _do_ mark it, I shall only put a tick--for it really is _not_ worth a cross!

COMING OUT.

_The Man who always makes the Right Remark._ H'm. Haven't seen anything I could carry away with me.

_His Flippant Friend._ Too many people about, eh? Never mind, old chap, you _may_ manage to sneak an umbrella down-stairs--_I_ won't say anything!

[_Disgust of his companion, who descends stairs in offended silence, as scene closes._

* * * * *

* * * * *

IN THE KNOW.

(_By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet._)

I AM told that many of the millions who have read with delight the brilliant sporting articles that have appeared from my pen week after week expect me to utter a few words of seasonable advice as to the chances of the various animals engaged in the Derby and the Oaks. If I were one of the chowder-headed numskulls who cackle for hire, the task would doubtless be an easy one. Mr. J. has performed it yearly with that magnificent want of success which attends all his addle-pated efforts. But, praise be to Heaven! I am not Mr. J., or one of his crew. I am only a humble writer, distinguished alike for his unerring sagacity, his undeviating accuracy, and his incisive force of expression. My task is, therefore, stupendous, but I will perform it.

THE DERBY.

There are many horses in for the Derby. Some people fancy _Surefoot_. Fancies are not, of course, facts, but the name is good. Keep your eye on the black and cerise of LIDDIARD. _Sainfoin_ is not generally supposed to cover grass, but there are generally exceptions. I have not heard the angels calling _Le Nord_ lately, but they may begin at any time. A man may get _home_, so may a horse, and I am bound to say that if I were _The Beggar_ I should give the lie to the crack-brained puddling proverb, and be a chooser of first place. _Bel Demonio_ should be all there when the first part of his name rings, so that he may go like the second, if he wants to be one, two, or three. _Rathbeal_ rhymes to heel. Has he got a clean pair to show? _Orwell_ should score well; and you must never, tie your _Garter_ too tightly, unless you want to stop your circulation. _Golden Gate_ is not always as open as might be wished; and _The Imp_ is sometimes a hindrance. Good old _Polonius_! As for _Kirkham_, _Alloway_, _Martagon_, and _Loup_, all I can say is, Mum's the word. How about the Field? Monkeys are often made there. So much for the Derby.

THE OAKS.

Who said _Semolina_? Passion, passion take advice, fill your pockets fall of _Semolina_. Ha, ha! _Signorina_ ought certainly not to miss the mark by more than a mile. _Memoire_ might do _pour servir_, and _Goldwing_ sounds well for a flyer. Those who cross the _Ponza (sinorum)_ generally go further with ease, and _Dearest_ is certainly superlative. The Field a monkey. Who said that? Whoever he was, let him beware! That is all I have to say in the meantime, but anyone desiring further information is requested to apply to me by letter at the office, enclosing twelve clean stamps for a reply. All who are not in a state of niddy-noddying, anserous, asinine, gruel-brained, pumpkin-faced, gooseberry-eyed imbecility, will, of course, do so.

* * * * *

* * * * *

A Shaftesbury Song.

(AIR--_"With a Doodah!" as sung years ago, with great applause, by_ Mr. W. E. GL-DST-NE.)

OUR Author JONES has come out strong With a _Judah_! With a _Judah_! Original drama, three Acts long, _Judah! Judah!_ pay! It's bound to run each night, And many a _Matinee_. I'll lay my money on the WILLARD nag. Ev'ryone will see the play.

* * * * *

"EMBARRASSING!"

_Or, The Political Scipio and the East African Charmer._

"Though the topic of Africa is said to be 'embarrassing and inconvenient,' it need not occasion any uneasiness at all; but if the British Government surrenders any portion of the territory reserved for the sphere of British influence, it may become most terribly embarrassing within a measurable period of time."--_Stanley's Reply to Lord Salisbury._

STANLEY, _loquitur_:--

HISTORY repeats itself! Perhaps it may do, But "with a difference." The moral Sages Think that if anyone holds wisdom, _they_ do; But not all sense is stored in pedant's pages. Historic parallels, from PLUTARCH downwards, Are rather pretty fancies than realities. I am no book-worm, have no leanings gownwards. And set small store by moralist's banalities. To pose as SCIPIO, that pudent Roman, So praised by pedagogue POLYBIUS, seemingly Pleases a Tory Premier. Well, our foeman Won't slumber whilst _we_ choose to doze on dreamingly. SCIPIO at New Carthage was a hero Of virgin virtue and high generosity; But hopes in Africa will fall to zero, If "policy" means virtuous pomposity. The chaste Proconsul turned his visage blushingly, From what with him was personal temptation; But what's good rule for one will fall quite crushingly If 'tis adopted by a mighty nation. SCIPIO, no doubt, was splendid in his modest And generous dealings with those Spanish hostages; But SALISBURY-SCIPIO? Picture of the oddest! Imperial rule is not all Penny Postages, Dainty diplomacies, generous concessions To Teuton tastes and Hohenzollern fancies; Or faith in bland CAPRIVI'S fine professions, And wandering WEISSMANN'S roseate romances. Kilimi-Njaro, Masai-Land, the Congo, Should satisfy your thirst for abnegation; And now, methinks, dear Lord, you cannot wrong go, If you go in for--let's say "exploitation." SCIPIO the Elder was not given to letting The Carthaginians get too much the best of him. Now on the Teuton it is even betting; To squeeze you north, or south, or east, or west of him. Out of the Congo State on the west border, Out of the Southern Soudan on his north one! By Jove, my Lord, that seems a biggish order! To stop it needs some struggle, and 'tis worth one. That poor East African Company's affronted, While Iron-clads and soldiers help the Teuton. _Must_ they then be from the Nyanza shunted, And _must_ I all their miseries be mute on, Because plain speech is what you call "embarrassing." Because unto the Teuton you're so tender? Must Englishmen in Africa stand harassing, And stoop to a calm policy of Surrender, And all that a proud Premier at Hatfield May play the SCIPIO--in this feeble fashion? My Lord, we did not win our spurs in _that_ field. Upon my soul, it puts me in a passion; And not me only, but, as you'll discover, A lot of Englishmen who watch this drama. SCIPIO was not an indiscriminate lover, But it was he licked HANNIBAL at Zama. I bring you, SCIPIO, the East Afric beauty Captured and chained, but opulent and charming. You turn away! From sacred sense of duty? From fear of your (political) virtue harming? No! SCIPIO seemed ruled by honour's laws When to the captured beauty he was lenient, You turn away, sham SCIPIO, because She seems "embarrassing and inconvenient!"

* * * * *

BEER.

[Messrs. SPIERS AND POND say in a letter in _The Daily Telegraph_, that "bottled beer is really what the great majority of the public want when they are out for a holiday."]

MENTION not the wines of Medoc, nor the vintage of Bordeaux, Or the Burgundy that rivals e'en the ruby in its flow; Though the growers of Epernay and the merry men of Rheims, Pour champagne that holds the sunlight in exhilarating streams; There's a finer nobler tipple, that the Briton's heart doth cheer, And he clings with fond affection to his draught or bottled beer.

Amber Rudesheimer charms us wandering by the haunted Rhine, Sparkling Hock near Ehrenbreitstein is a mighty pleasant wine; In agreement with the German we have vowed we loved full well, To behold the bubbles flashing on a goblet of Moselle; But the Briton hugs his tankard, and would count the man an ass Who held not in highest honour nectar from the vats of BASS.

Port is worthy of acceptance, once men made the bottle spin; Sherry hath a welcome flavour when the filberts have come in: Scotsmen have been seen imbibing in the mountains of the north, What is known as whiskey-toddy in the lands beside the Forth: But the Englishmen will tell you that for really sterling worth-- BASS'S beer can beat all liquids that were ever made on earth.

* * * * *

THE BITTER CRY OF THE LONDON RIDER HAGGARD AND JADED.

_To the Chief Commissioners of Works, The Ditto of Police, and to "George" Ranger._

WHY not open up rides in Kensington Gardens? Say one good one under the trees from South-West to North-West, and connect Kensington with Bayswater? Will any benefactor to unfortunate Metropolitan Equestrians force this North-West passage?

There is a meagre ride at the side of the road in the Inner Circle, Regent's Park. Why not a good ride right across Park? From considerable observation and experience of Kensington Gardens and Regent's Park, it may be confidently asserted, that such rides as are here proposed, would not interfere with the comfort of a single (or married) nurse or governess with children in her charge. Both places are comparatively unfrequented, and the proposed rides would not infringe upon the recreation of the London boys.

We strongly recommend the Chief Commissioner to visit Paris, and, mounted upon a comfortable horse, let him make the acquaintance of the delightful _sentiers_ laid out as rides in the Bois de Boulogne. This will be a first-rate French exercise for him, and he will learn a great deal from it. The DUKE, who is fond of equitation, especially in Battersea Park, must admit that the equestrians of London are very badly off for variety. Up and down Rotten Row, once into the siding by the Barracks, once to the dismal ride on the North side, and once back again by the ride that opens on to the Mausoleum-like Magazine,--which of all London Magazines is the dreariest,--this, and only this, is the daily burden of the patient London rider's song. "How long? How long?" as Mr. WILSON BARRETT used to be always exclaiming in _The Silver King_, or _Claudian_, or both. How long--will mounted London put up with this, which is the reverse of a merry-go-round?

Then we have to be thankful for the small mercy of a narrow strip of a ride, barely room for one, along Constitution Hill, and for that other strip, a trifle wider, in Birdcage Walk, which is always crowded with children, and one might as well be riding through nursery grounds. Why shouldn't there be here a cut right across the grass, from The Walk of the Birdcages to middle of Piccadilly?

If GEORGE RANGER, the Chief Commissioner of Police, and the Chief of the Board of Works would combine, we might get something done which would benefit the riders--riders haggard and jaded--and materially assist the smallest circulation (possessed by those who ride to live) in the world. There is one thing that ought to be put down, and put down with a strong hand,--and that is plenty of gravel at all the gates; but especially round and about the Marble Arch, which is a most dangerously slippery pass.

* * * * *

* * * * *

RAILWAY UNPUNCTUALITY REPORT;

_Or, What it may probably come to._

THAT the new Legislation has begun to tell favourably on the conduct of the traffic of the leading lines cannot for a moment be doubted after glancing at the thirteenth Bi-weekly Record, published at the Companies' expense, according to the Provisions of the recent Act, on the back of all their passenger-tickets. It is satisfactory to note how, in something like six weeks, punctuality in the train service seems really almost established, the only train arriving one minute late being one of the Edinburgh Expresses, of which the boiler of the engine blew up at Grantham, thereby causing a little delay, which, however, was picked up before the conclusion of the run by extra steaming. The heavy penal system which the new Legislation has introduced, is, of course, answerable for this delightful change; but a glance at the following table for the six weeks since the Act has come into operation, will show how effectively and rapidly it has worked:--

Trains Chairmen Directors Station Other late. put sentenced Masters Officials in Irons. to Penal sentenced sent Servitude. to Hard to Gaol Labour. and Fined. -------------------------------------------------------------- First week | 1725 | 9 | 95 | 192 | 2004 Second, Do. | 3 | 1 | 3 | 17 | 143 Third, Do. | 2 | .. | 2 | 11 | 88 Fourth, Do. | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 15 Fifth, Do. | .... | .. | 1[A] | .. | .. Sixth, Do. | 1 | 1 | 2 | 5 | 10 --------------------------------------------------------------

[Footnote A: Precautionary sentence.]

The list of officials, as furnished in the above Schedule, undergoing their various periods of punishment, is an encouraging sign to the travelling public, and it is satisfactory to notice that the old unpunctuality that marked the first week, followed up as it was _by a rigorous application of the new law_, instantly disappeared as if by magic, when the Companies began really to understand their responsibilities and their penalties under the new Act. It is confidently, therefore, to be hoped, that next week's record may possibly be an entirely clean one, and that, _the only method of ensuring punctuality_, namely, the infliction of a penalty on the Authorities who can control it, may be found in practice to be entirely successful.

* * * * *

SUGGESTION GRATIS.--Why doesn't some enterprising publisher engage Sergeant PALMER of the 19th Knowles's Century Powder Magazine to write a Military Romance? There has been nothing of the sort worth mentioning since CHARLES LEVER. The Sergeant could write under the _nom de guerre_ of _Micky Free, Redivivus_.

(_Signed_) BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

* * * * *

_Q._ If several Householders who love peace and quietness on Sunday, should combine to put down the Salvation Army's so-called singing, what Mountains would they resemble?--_A._ The Hymn Allayers.

* * * * *

THE OPERA-GOER'S DIARY.

_Monday, May 26._--Faust. Faust-rate performance as far as JACK and NED DE RESZKE are concerned. Madame NORDICA is far too knowing a _Marguerite_. The simple _Faust_, just beginning life, is evidently no match for this guileless young lady. Being "no match for her" is probably the reason for his not marrying her. NORDICA charming vocally, but dramatically there is too much of the _Becky Sharp_ about her, and she is merely in a plot with _Martha_ to let in the rich and spoony Juggins called _Faust_. New man, FRANCESCHETTI, as _Valentine_, not quite the thing: perhaps nervous seeing DAN DRADY in front looking at him. Good house for Whit Monday, though of course The Brilliancies are absent. Choruses excellent. What capital match-boxes the old men in the Old Men's Chorus would make! Good contrast between Mlle. BAUERMEISTER as _Martha_, and NED DE R. as _Mephistopheles_.

_Tuesday._--Glorious Opera, _Les Huguenots_; French title with Italian names, such as _Valentina_, _Margherita di Valois_, _Urbano_, &c. First appearance of Monsieur Ybos. _Why Boss?_ Always thought DRURIOLANUS was Boss of this Show. Better change name to _Y-not-bos_, and the answer will come from DRURIOLANUS himself, "Iboss." Monsieur YBOS belongs to the school of Signor VIBRATO. Energetic but too angry with _Valentina_, when she confesses that she loves him. ELLA RUSSELL magnificent as sleeveless _Queen_. NED DE RESZKE the best possible _Marcello_. As DRURIOLANUS, dropping into poetry, observes--

He is the very best _Marcello_, With a voice like the deepest violoncello.

Monsieur DUFRICHE as _San Bris_, "quite the _brie_," or cheese. Madame TETRAZZINI a dramatic _Valentina_. DAN DRADY a first-rate _Conte di Nevers-too-late-to-mend_. Curfew-Watchman in perfect tune. Soldiers' rataplanatory chorus very nearly perfection at finish, though starting shakily. Little PALLADINO danced so delightfully as even to bewitch the Hug-me-not soldiers. I've seen this Opera any number of times, and I have been at considerable trouble and expense to master the plot. An idea strikes me. I shall publish _Examination Papers on Popular Operas_. What the prize will be for the one who answers correctly from memory, without reference to any _libretto_, is a matter for further consideration. Here is a specimen of examination paper on the _Huguenots_:--