Chapter 2

The Tournament Scene is a very effective "set," but practically an elaborate "sell," as all the fighting on horseback is done "without." Presently, after a fierce clashing of property-swords, sounding suspiciously like fire-irons, _Ivanhoe_ and _Sir Brian_ come in, afoot, to fight out "round the sixth, and last." There is refreshing novelty in Mr. COPLAND's impersonation of _Isaac of York_, who might be taken for _Shylock's_ younger brother who has been experimenting on his beard with some curious kind of hair-dye. This comic little _Isaac_ will no doubt grow older during the run of the piece, but on the first night he neither looked nor behaved like _Rebecca's_ aged and venerable sire, nor did Miss MACINTYRE--who, by the way, is charming as _Rebecca_, and who is so nimble in skipping about the stage when avoiding the melodramatic _Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert-sans-Sullivan_, and so generally active and artful as to be quite a _Becky Sharp_,--nor, I say, did Miss MACINTYRE seem to treat her precocious parent (_Isaac_ must have married very young, seeing that _Becky_ is full twenty-one, and _Isaac_ apparently very little more than twenty-eight, or, say, thirty) with any great tenderness and affection; but these feelings no doubt will be intensified, as she becomes more and more accustomed to her jewvenile father during the run of the Opera, and he may say to her, as the Bottle Imp did to his victim, "Ha! Ha! You must _learn_ to love me!"

I have not time to enumerate all the charming effects of the Opera, but I must not forget the magic property-harp, with, apparently, limp whip-cord strings, "the harp that once," or several times, was played by those accomplished musicians, _King Richard_, and _Friar Tuck_, the latter of whom has by far the most taking song in the Opera, and which would have received a treble [or a baritone] encore, had _Barkis_--meaning Sir ARTHUR--"been willin'." The contest between _Richard_ and the _Friar_ is decidedly "Dicky." Nor must I forget the magnificent property supper in the first scene, at so much a head, where not a ham or a chicken is touched; nor must "the waits" between some of the sets be forgotten,--"waits" being so suggestive of music at the merriest time of the year. Nor, above all, must I omit to mention the principal character, _Ivanhoe_ himself, played by Mr. BEN DAVIES, who would be quite an ideal _Ivanhoe_ if he were not such a very real _Ivanhoe_--only, of course, we must not forget that he "doubles" the part. There is no thinness about "_Ben Mio_," whether considered as a man, or as a good all-round tenor. I did not envy _Ivanhoe's_ marvellous power of sleep while Miss MACINTYRE was singing her best, her sweetest, and her loudest. For my part I prefer to believe that the crafty Saxon was "only purtendin'," and was no more asleep than _Josh Sedley_ on the eve of Waterloo, or the Fat Boy when he surprised _Mr. Tupman_ and _Aunt Rachel_ in the arbour, or when he pinched _Mr. Pickwick's_ leg in order to attract his attention. But, after all, _Ivanhoe_ and _Rowena_, as THACKERAY remarked, are a poor namby-pamby pair, and the real heroine is _Rebecca_. The Opera ends with a "Rebecca Riot." Every one wishes success to the new venture.

As to the Music,--well, I am not a musician, and in any new Opera when there is no one tuneful phrase as in _Aïda_ or _Tannhäuser_, which, at the very first hearing, anyone with half an ear can straightway catch, and reproduce next day till everyone about him cries, "Oh don't!" and when, as in this instance, the conducting-composer, Wagnerianly, will not permit _encores_--where am I? Nowhere. I return home in common time, but tuneless. On the other hand, besides being certain that _Friar Tuck's_ jovial song will "catch on," I must record the complete satisfaction with which I heard the substantial whack on the drum so descriptive of _Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert-sans-Sullivan's_ heavy fall "at the ropes." This last effect, being as novel as it is effective, attracted the attention of the wily and observant DRURIOLANUS, who mentally booked the effect as something startlingly new and original for his next Pantomime. The combat between the Saxon Slogger, very much out of training, and the Norman Nobbler, rather over-trained as the result proved, is decidedly exciting, and the Nobbler would be backed at long odds. Altogether, the whole show was thoroughly appreciated by WAMBA JUNIOR.

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SPECIMENS FROM MR. PUNCH'S SCAMP-ALBUM.

NO. I.--THE CLASSICAL SCHOLAR IN REDUCED CIRCUMSTANCES.

You are, let us say, a young professional man in chambers or offices, incompetently guarded by an idiot boy whom you dare not trust with the responsibility of denying you to strangers. You hear a knock at your outer door, followed by conversation in the clerk's room, after which your salaried idiot announces, "A Gentleman to see you." Enter a dingy and dismal little man in threadbare black, who advances with an air of mysterious importance. "I think," he begins, "I 'ave the pleasure of speaking to Mr.----" (_whatever your name is_.) "I take the liberty of calling, Mr.----, to consult you on a matter of the utmost importance, and I shall feel personally obliged if you will take precautions for our conversation not being over'eard."

He looks grubby for a client--but appearances are deceptive, and you offer him a seat, assuring him that he may speak with perfect security--whereupon he proceeds in a lowered voice.

"The story I am about to reveal," he says, smoothing a slimy tall hat, "is of a nature so revolting, so 'orrible in its details, that I can 'ardly bring myself to speak it to any 'uming ear!" (_Here you will probably prepare to take notes._) "You see before you one who is of 'igh birth but low circumstances!" (_At this, you give him up as a possible client, but a mixture of diffidence and curiosity compels you to listen._) "Yes, Sir, I was '_fruges consumeary nati_.' I 'ave received a neducation more befitting a dook than my present condition. Nursed in the lap of haffluence, I was trained to fill the lofty position which was to have been my lot. But '_necessitas_,' Sir, as you are aware, '_necessitas non abat lejim_,' and such I found it. While still receiving a classical education at Cambridge College--(praps you are yourself an alumbus of _Halma Mater_? No? I apologise, Sir, I'm sure)--but while preparing to take my honorary degree, my Father suddenly enounced, the horful news that he was a bankrup'. Strip of all we possessed, we were turned out of our sumchuous 'ome upon the cold world, my Father's grey 'airs were brought down sorrowing to sangwidge boards, though he is still sangwin of paying off his creditors in time out of what he can put by from his scanty hearnings. My poor dear Mother--a lady born and bred--sank by slow degrees to a cawfy-stall, which is now morgidged to the 'ilt, and my eldest Sister, a lovely and accomplished gairl, was artlessly thrown over by a nobleman, to 'oom she was engaged to be married, before our reverses overtook us. His name the delikit hinstinks of a gentleman will forbid you to inquire, as likewise me to mention--enough to 'int that he occupies a prominent position amongst the hupper circles of Society, and is frequently to be met with in the papers. His faithlessness preyed on my Sister's mind to that degree, that she is now in the Asylum, a nopeless maniac! My honely Brother was withdrawn from 'Arrow, and now 'as the yumiliation of selling penny toys on the kerbstone to his former playfellers. '_Tantee nannymice salestibus hiræ_,' indeed, Sir!

"But you ask what befell myself." (_You have not--for the simple reason that, even if you desired information, he has given you no chance, as yet, of putting in a word._) "Ah, Sir, there you 'ave me on a tender point. '_Hakew tetigisti_,' if I may venture once more upon a scholarly illusion. But I 'ave resolved to conceal nothing--and you shall 'ear. For a time I obtained employment as Seckertary and Imanuensis to a young baranit, 'oo had been the bosom friend of my College days. He would, I know, have used his influence with Government to obtain me a lucritive post; but, alas, 'ere he could do so, unaired sheets, coupled with deliket 'elth, took him off premature, and I was once more thrown on my own resources.

"In conclusion, Sir, you 'ave doubtless done me the hinjustice to expect, from all I 'ave said, that my hobjick in obtaining this interview was to ask you for pecuniary assistance?" (_Here you reflect with remorse that a suspicion to this effect has certainly crossed your mind_). "Nothing of the sort or kind, I do assure you. A little 'uming sympathy, the relief of pouring out my sorrers upon a feeling art, a few kind encouraging words, is all I arsk, and that, Sir, the first sight of your kind friendly face told me I should not lack. Pore as I am, I still 'ave my pride, the pride of a English gentleman, and if you was to orfer me a sovereign as you sit there, I should fling it in the fire--ah, I _should_--'urt and indignant at the hinsult!" (_Here you will probably assure him that you have no intention of outraging his feelings in any such manner._) "No, and _why_, Sir? Because you 'ave a gentlemanly 'art, and if you were to make sech a orfer, you would do it in a kindly Christian spirit which would rob it of all offence. There's not many as I would bring myself to accept a paltry sovereign from, but I dunno--I might from one like yourself--I _might Ord hignara mali, miseris succurreary disco_, as the old philosopher says. You 'ave that kind of _way_ with you." (_You mildly intimate that he is mistaken here, and take the opportunity of touching the bell_). "No, Sir, don't be untrue to your better himpulses. _'Ave_ a feelin 'art, Sir! Don't send me away, after allowing me to waste my time 'ere--which is of value _to me_, let me tell yer, whatever _yours_ is!--like this!... Well, well, there's 'ard people in this world? I'm _going_, Sir ... I 'ave sufficient dignity to take a 'int ... You 'aven't got even a trifle to spare an old University Scholar in redooced circumstances then?... Ah, it's easy to see you ain't been at a University yourself--you ain't got the _hair_ of it! Farewell, Sir, and may your lot in life be 'appier than--All right, don't _hexcite_ yourself. I've bin mistook in yer, that's all. I thought you was as soft-edded a young mug as you look. Open that door, will yer; I want to get out of this 'ole!"

Here he leaves you with every indication of disgust and disappointment, and you will probably hear him indulging in unclassical vituperation on the landing.

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OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

The Baron is delighted with MONTAGU WILLIAMS's third volume of _Reminiscences_, published by MACMILLAN & Co. His cheery after-dinner conversational style of telling capital stories is excellent. He is not writing a book, he is talking to us; he is telling us a series of good things, and, quoth the Baron, let me advise you to light your cigar and sit down in your armchair before the fire, as not only do you not wish to interrupt him, even with a query, but you feel inclined to say, as the children do when, seated round you in the wintry twilight, they have been listening to a story which has deeply interested them--"Go on, please, tell us another!" The following interpolated "aside," most characteristic of MONTAGU WILLIAMS's life-like conversational manner of telling a story, occurs at page 8, where giving an account of a robbery, of which he himself was the victim, and telling how a thief asked to be shown up to his, the narrator's room, he says, "The porter, like a fool, gave his consent." The interpolated "_like a fool_," carries the jury, tells the whole story, and wins admiration for the sufferer, who is the real hero of the tale. But beyond the book's merit as an interesting and amusing companion, it contains some valuable practical suggestions for relieving the ordinary distress in the poorest districts which ought to receive attention in the highest quarters.

To some readers interested in theatrical life, _Polly Mountemple_ must prove an interesting work of fiction, if a story can be so styled which, as its author assures his readers with his latest breath, I should say in his last paragraph (p. 291), "Is a true tale." It is the story of a "ballet lady" who rises in "the profession" to the dignity of a speaking part, and is on the point of being raised still higher in the social scale, and becoming the wife of a real live young nobleman, when she sensibly accepts a considerable sum of money, consents to forego her action for breach of promise, and finally marries a highly respectable acrobat, and becomes the landlady of the "Man of Kent." The earlier portion is entertaining, especially to those who are not altogether ignorant of some of the personages, sketches of whom are drawn by the author, Mr. CHARLES HOLLIS, with, it is not improbable, considerable fidelity. They are rough sketches, not by any means highly finished, but then such was the character of the original models. Before, however, it can be accepted by the general public as giving an unexaggerated picture of a certain sort of stage-life, it ought to have the _imprimatur_ or the _nihil obstat_ of some generally acknowledged head of the profession; for "the profession" is Hydra-like in this respect--a republican creation, with many heads. THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

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THE "PAPER-CHASE."

_The Hare (with many financial friends) loquitur_:--

Here goes! 'Tis a rather new line-- But that is no very great matter. If they've faith in a lead, 'tis in mine, So a tentative trail let me scatter, The old track of country this time I'll forsake; I trust they'll not think I have made a mistake?

That old line of country they know, Across it for years they've been rangers, All right, when the going is slow, When 'tis fast, are they fly to its dangers? For Hares to raise scares 'midst the Hounds were improper, But how if the pack come a general cropper?

Remarkably near it last time, Though some of 'em didn't suspect it; But _I_ spy the peril! 'Twere crime If I did not help them to detect it. If they don't like my trail they must give me the sack; I'd rather be bullied than break up the pack.

They fancy I'll keep the old course, There or thereabout. But I've a notion! They'll grumble perhaps, with some force, But they're not going to flurry G. GOSCHEN. Of this havresack there have been some smart carriers-- I'll make 'em sit up, though, the L.S.D. Harriers!

I love 'em, each supple-shanked lad, 'Most as much as--Statistics. To trudge it For _them_ makes my bosom as glad As--Big Surplus, and Popular Budget; And so I should like to secure them a run, Combining snug safety with plenty of fun.

I don't wont to lessen their speed, I don't want to hamper their daring; But rashness won't always succeed-- Just ask that smart runner, young B-R-NG! And that's why I'm trying to strike a new line For our Paper-Chase--catting the "Paper" up fine.

I scatter it wide. Will it float? Of course for awhile there's no knowing; But I shall be able to note, By the sequel, _which way the wind's blowing_. There! Look like white-birds, or banknotes, in full flight. Now, lads, double up! There's not one yet in sight!

Of course I'm ahead of my field, As a Hare worth his salt ever should be. My Hounds, though, are mostly spring-heeled. Eh? Funk it? I don't think that could be! The L.S.D. Harriers' lick others hollow For pluck and for pace. There's the trail,--_will they follow_?

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"SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST."--You need not go to Holland to see the Hague. You may find it--him we mean--at DOWDESWELL's Gallery. Here you can revel in a good fit of the Hague without shivering. Indeed, Mr. ANDERSON HAGUE, judging from his pictures of North Cambria, seems to be very fit, and therefore, he may be called an HAGUE-fit.

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A CAN(NES)DID CONFESSION.

(_BY A SUFFERING ANGELINA._)

You write to me, sweetest, with envy Of "zephyrs" and "summerlike stars;" You say women, horses, and men vie In chorus of croups and catarrhs; You picture me safe from the snarling Of Winter's tyrannical sway. This isn't, believe me, my darling, The Mediterranean way.

You rave of the "shimmering light on An ocean pellucidly fair." You get it, my darling, at Brighton, And coals that can warm you are _there_: Of "boughs with hot oranges breaking"-- Cold comfort, while fortunes we pay For faggots that mock us in making Their Mediterranean way!

You dream of me rapt by a casement Mimosa caresses and rose; _This_ window was surely the place meant For mistral to buffet my nose. Of tennis and dances and drums in "That Eden for Eves"--did you say? Apt phrase! Nothing masculine comes in Our Mediterranean way.

And "Esterel's amethyst ranges Of gossamer shapes"--and the rest. Good gracious, how scenery changes! They too have a cold on their chest. At "delicate lungs," dear, and so on No more for this climate I'll play, But homeward in ecstasy go on My Mediterranean way.

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THE OLD WOMAN AND HER WATER SUPPLY.

(_AN OLD NURSERY RHYME WITH A NEW BURDEN._)

There was an old Woman, as I've heard say, The frost froze her water-pipes fast one day; The frost froze her water-pipes fast at first, Till a thaw came at last, and the water-pipes burst. By came the Company, greedy of gain, And it cut her water all off at the main, It cut her water off sharp, if you please, Though it wasn't _her_ fault that the pipes began to freeze. It wasn't _her_ fault that the water-pipes burst. So she had no water for cleansing or thirst, She had no water, and she began to cry, "Oh, what a cruel buzzum has a Water Company But I'll repair the pipes, since so it must be, And the plumber, I'm aware, will make pickings out of me. If there's a frost I've no water for my pail, And if there's a thaw then the rate-collectors rail." On Law the old Woman is entirely in the dark; There seems no one to save her from the fresh-water shark; The shark does what he likes, and she can only cry, "Who'll help a poor old Woman 'gainst the Water Company?"

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MOI-MEM.

"_Moi-Même_," in the course of his pleasant _Worldly_ wanderings among things in general, observes, _à propos_ of the younger COQUELIN's suggestion about lectures by professors of the Dramatic Art to youthful students, "One can scarcely fancy a more humorous sight than Mr. TOOLE giving a professional lecture to dramatic aspirants, telling them when to wink, when to wheeze, when to ''scuse his glove,'" &c. Now it so happens that when this same idea was first started--or perhaps revived--some eleven years ago, Professor TOOLE's Lecture to Students of the Dramatic Art was given in _Mr. Punch's_ pages. The lecture, one of a series supposed to be given by various actors, will be found in Vol. LXXVIII., page 93. It appeared on the 28th of February, 1880.

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NOTE BY A NOMAD.

SMITH, of Coalville, imagines that Civilised Man Falls too much to the rear if he lives in a Van; But Caravan-dwellers, with force and urbanity, Declare that SMITH's views of Van life are pure vanity!

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THE HIGHEST EDUCATION;

_OR, WHAT IS LOOMING A-HEAD._

A Deputation on behalf of the Exasperated Ratepayers' Association waited yesterday afternoon on the Chairman of the London School Board at their new and commodious palatial premises erected on the vast central site recently cleared, regardless of expense, for that purpose in Piccadilly, and presented a further protest against the ever-increasing expenditure indulged in by that body. The Chairman, smilingly intimating that he would hear what the Deputation had to say, though he added, amidst the ill-suppressed merriment of his _confrères_, he supposed it was the old sing-song protest, possibly on this occasion because they had recently directed that the boys attending the schools of the Board should come in "Eton" suits, the cost of which naturally fell upon the rates, or some captious objection of that kind, which it really was a waste of breath to discuss. However, whatever it was, he added, he was willing to hear it.

The Spokesman of the Deputation, a Duke in reduced circumstances, who ascribed his ruin to the heavy rates he had been called upon to pay through the extravagance of the Board, and who declined to give his name, said that though they had not thought the Eton suits a necessity, still it was not against them that they had to protest. It was the addition of Astronomy involving the erection (with fitting first-class instruments) of 341 observatories in the London district alone, Chinese, taught by 500 native Professors imported from Pekin for the purpose, horse-riding, yachting, and the church organ (these last two being compulsory), together with the use of the tricycle, type-writer, and phonograph, all of which instruments were provided for every single pupil at the expense of the ratepayers, to the curriculum of all those pupils who were fitted for the third standard. The speaker said he knew that it had long been settled that the finest and most comprehensive education that our advanced civilisation could supply should be provided for the submerged half of the population, and they could not grumble at these things, but what they did not consider necessary was, that a salary should be forthcoming for each pupil-teacher sufficient to enable him or her to drive down to the schools in their own carriage and pair. (_Much laughter._) He did not think it a laughing matter. He would strongly suggest a diminution of at least £1000 a-year in the salaries of these overpaid officials.

The Chairman here asked the speaker if he had considered that "descending" from a carriage was necessarily connected with the teaching of Deportment, on which the Board set great value? Was he not aware that some great man had said, wishing to give Deportment its proper weight as an educational factor, that the Battle of Waterloo (at least he thought he was quoting correctly) was won at Almacks? (_Renewed laughter._) Anyhow, he did not consider that £2,500 a-year, and a house in Mayfair, was at all an excessive remuneration for a School-Board teacher, as measured by the Board's standard. He thought, if that was all the Deputation had to urge, that they might have saved themselves the trouble their protest had cost them.

The Spokesman having for a few moments consulted with his colleagues, hereupon turned to the Chairman, and delivering with fearful emphasis the customary curse on the School Board, its Chairman, and all its belongings, at the same time thanking the Chairman for his courteous reception of the Deputation, silently and sulkily withdrew.

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