Chapter 2

CAN A MAN IMPRISON HIS WIFE?

(_AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL CONSIDERATION OF THE QUESTION, BY AN EMINENT LEGAL AUTHORITY._)

It may be remembered that (I trust) in deserved acknowledgment of my professional pre-eminence, I received, some little while ago, the appointment of a Deputy-Assistant-Revising-Barristership. In performing the duties of this important office, I sometimes have to incur bodily risk--the more especially when I have to distinguish between the rival claims of the political parties that I am sorry to say have made Lambville-cum-Minton the antithesis of heaven upon earth. On the occasion to which I particularly wish to refer, I was accompanied by my Wife, to my secret annoyance, as I am afraid the Lady who does me the honour to share my name is unduly apprehensive of my safety, and, besides this general plea, I had yet another special reason for desiring her absence. To tell the truth, I had been greatly moved by a decision given in the Court of Appeal, whereby it seemed to me (and no doubt to many of my learned friends) the custody of a wife by her husband had become an empty phrase, signifying nothing. I felt that if, by any means, I could get this judgment set aside, I would not only confer upon myself, as a married man, a signal benefit, but, moreover, as a Counsel, obtain increased professional distinction. However, I was embarrassed by the presence of my Wife, when I came to consider the best mode in which marital authority might be assumed to raise the question of the right of _habeas corpus_. I had returned to my room before the opening of the Registration Court at Lambville-cum-Minton, in rather a disturbed frame of mind. Truth to tell, my Wife, having learned that political feeling was rising so high in the town that it was possible that the Deputy-Assistant-Revising-Barrister might be assaulted by either or both of the rival factions, had done her best to dissuade me from taking my customary seat.

"What shall I do, to say nothing of the darling children, if you are brought home on a hurdle?" she sobbed out.

I assured her that there was a very remote risk of my succumbing to such a fate, as the conveyance home on a hurdle raised the presumption that the victim had been hunting, a sport in which I seldom, I may say, never indulged. But this explanation did not reassure her, and she left me in tears. Her emotion caused me much pain, the more especially as my proposed task seemed to me, under the circumstances, a species of domestic treason. However, I hardened my heart, and sat down to consider the facts of the case. To allow the right of seizure to be argued, it would be necessary to take my Wife out of the custody of someone other than myself. Her mother, a most estimable old lady, with whom I have had many a pleasant and exciting game of backgammon, seemed a right and proper person to assist me in carrying out my project. But the objection immediately occurred to me that it would be an exceedingly difficult matter to induce her to hold my Wife from me unless I desired her to take such a course. But if I made this request, would not the proceeding savour of collusion? To meet this obstacle I came to the conclusion that I might get my Wife to pay a visit to her mother, and then, appropriately disguised, seize and carry her off. By locking her in the conveyance and riding on the box, I could preserve my incognito until reaching home, and then I might confine her in her own room with assumed harshness, and possibly (of this I had some doubt) get her to complain of her imprisonment. By keeping my Wife's domicile a close secret, her mother would be induced to visit me to ask my professional assistance in recovering her daughter. Thus approached it would be possible to so advise the old lady that in the result she would demand my Wife's presence in Court under a writ of _habeas corpus_. Then would come my opportunity. Of course I would produce my Wife, and having carefully prepared my arguments, would deliver an oration that would fill columns of the newspapers, and hand down my name to generations to come as _the_ authority on marital rights. I saw in the near future wealth and restored domestic happiness. But the first thing to do was to lock up my Wife. And at this point it occurred to me that it was time for me to walk over to the Revision Court. I hastily gathered certain necessary articles into my brief-bag, and putting on my hat, grasped the handle of the door. To my surprise I found that I could obtain no egress. I rang the bell--and instead of a servant my Wife answered the summons. "The door is locked, dear," I observed, "and as the key seems to be on the other side, will you kindly open it, as I am in a hurry to be off."

"You will stay where you are," was the reply. "You are not going to get killed by attending a nonsensical Revision Court."

"But I must go," I explained; and then assuming a tone of authority I rarely adopt, I added, "and you will be good enough to open the door at once."

"I shall do nothing of the sort," replied my Wife, calmly. "I locked you in, and I shan't let you out."

"What, Madam," I exclaimed; "do you defy my authority?"

"Certainly!" was the immediate response, "You may say or think what you like, but you don't leave this house to-day as sure as I am your lawfully wedded Wife."

And as a matter of fact I didn't!

(_Signed._) A. BRIEFLESS, JUNIOR.

_Pump-handle Court._

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OPERATIC NOTES.

_Monday_.--To see MADAME ALBANI as _Violetta_ the consumptive heroine of "_La Traviata_." Charmingly sung and admirably, nay, most touchingly, acted. MAUREL excellent as _Germont Senior_, and MONTARIOL quite the weak-minded masher _Alfredo_. What a different turn the story might have taken had it occurred to _Violetta_ to have a flirtation with the handsome middle-aged _père noble_! At one time it almost seemed as if there had been some change in motive of the Opera since I last saw it, and that the above original idea was about to be carried out. But no; in another second _Germont-Maurel_ as "Old Maurelity" (by kind permission of TOBY, M.P.) had pulled himself together, and _Albani-Violetta_ was in the depths of remorseful sorrow. In that gay and festive supper scene, where a physician, unostentatiously styled _Il Dottore_ (he would probably be _Ill_ Dottore the morning after) is present to look after the health of the guests, and perhaps to "propose" it, I noticed with pleasure that, on the tables, DRURIOLANUS ALDERMANICUS, mindful of civic feasts, had placed bottles of real champagne, or at least real champagne-bottles. This interested the audience muchly, and numerous were the glasses turned in the direction of the bottles--of course 'tis opera-glasses I mean, yer honour,--in order to ascertain what particular wanity was _La Traviata's_ favourite; but the bottles were so placed that only one unimportant word on the label was visible. Was it Pommery '80 _très sec_?--Or what was it? Impossible to see: it was not mentioned in the dialogue, so "Mumm" might have been the word. But at all events, if the wine is one which requires advertisement, the guests should be told to be very careful to leave the bottles in the same position as in the old prefatial stage-directions "the reader of the play" is supposed to be; i.e., "_on the stage, facing the audience_."

_Wednesday._--_Rigoletto_. M. MAUREL as the Jester; acting good, voice too loud. ALBANI, as _Gilda_, overwhelmed with encores. M. MONTARIOL's _Il Duca_ is _Alfredo_ over again, only confirmed in a vicious career. To obtain an encore for the great but now hackneyed song, "_La Donna e mobile_," a wonderful rendering is absolutely essential, and somehow something seems wanting to the success of _Rigoletto_ when this song goes for nothing and is passed without a rapturous "_bis, bis!_" which makes a Manager rub his hands and smilingly say to himself, "Good bis-ness."

_Thursday._--_Lohengrin_ I believe, but wasn't there. Hope the Opera went all right without me. Can't be in more places than one at the same moment. Same remarks apply to Friday and Saturday.

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TO MISS ALICE ATHERTON AT THE STRAND THEATRE.

To see her in _Our Daughters_! worth the money! She 'ATH ER "TON" so genuinely funny! Yes, ALICE, in such acting, dance, or song, We recognise thy talent _et ton_ "_ton_."

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Of the Modern Bill of Costs, the Ancient "Bill of the Play," SHAKSPEARE, and the present representative of the Ancient Mariner, L.C.J. COLERIDGE, both observe, "Oh, reform it altogether!"

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* * * * *

HYMEN AND CUPID.

(_FIN-DE-SIÈCLE VERSION, SOME WAY AFTER MOORE._)

HYMEN, late, his love-knots selling, Called at many a maiden's dwelling; But he found too well they knew him; None were prompter to pooh-pooh him. "Who'll buy my love-knots? Who'll buy my love-knots?" Soon as that old cry resounded. How his baskets were surrounded!

Maidens mocked, with laughter dying, Those fool-knots of HYMEN's tying; Dames, who once with him had sided, Openly his wares derided. "Who'll buy my love-knots? Who'll buy my love-knots?" All at that old cry came flocking, Mocking in a style quite shocking.

"Here are knots," said HYMEN, taking Some loose nooses of Law's making. "Pooh!" the nymphs cried. "Who can trust 'em? We have changed your queer old custom. Who'll buy your love-knots? Who'll buy your love-knots? Women they bind not, nor tie men. You're a helpless gaoler, HYMEN!

"When the bargain is completed, We have but to cry, 'We're cheated!' And you'll find you're sold most sadly. Love-knots? Fools'-knots! They tie badly. Who'll buy _your_ love-knots? Who'll buy _your_ love-knots? Burdens you would lay our backs on-- Our reply is--TOLSTOI! JACKSON!"

HYMEN dropped his torch; its splutter Was extinguished in the gutter. "At my torch and crown of roses These young minxes cock their noses. Who'll buy my love-knots? Who'll buy my love-knots?" What's the use? 'Twixt Law and Passion, HYMEN's plainly out of fashion!

LOVE, who saw the whole proceeding, Would have laughed but for good breeding. "Best join _me_," he cried, "Old Chappie! IBSEN read, be free, and happy! Who'll buy your love-knots? Who'll buy your love-knots? Have a spree--all shackles scorning, Come! We won't go home till morning!'"

* * * * *

A BACONIAN THEORY;

OR, TRYING IT ON.

SOLOMON isn't in it with Judge BACON. The point was whether Mrs. MANLEY had made Miss DOROTHY DENE's dresses to fit or not. "To fit or not to fit, that was the question." The Judge gave his decision after a fair trial of the two costumes--this might be remembered on both sides as "the trying-on case,"--that, according to the evidence of unimpeachable witnesses represented by the Judge's own common-sense and artistic eye for effect, two of the dresses and a cloak didn't fit, and that so far, the Defendant, Miss DOROTHY, must consider herself, in a dress-making sense, "non-suited." Mrs. MANLEY had, of course, undertaken to provide fits for her customers, and for having partially failed, her customers determined to return the compliment, by "giving _her_ fits" if possible. So the parties came before Judge BACON, and appealed to His Honour. And the learned Judge mindful of ancestral Baconian wisdom, "_Cast a severe eye upon the example_"--that is, he examined the dresses most critically,--"_but a merciful eye upon the person_,"--for the fair Plaintiff and fair Defendant His Honour showed himself a most fair Judge, unwilling, as BACON, "to give beans" to either party, and so dismissing them with his beany-diction. But, _pauca verba_,--and may we always have nothing but praise to bestow on _Bacon's Essays_.

* * * * *

A DISCLAIMER.

(_BY AN UNIONIST._)

_I_ "prefer PARNELL"? Oh dear, no! There is no man I've hated so. But, since he turned a fierce derider Of him he calls the "Grand Old Spider;" Since he has "blown" the Home-Rule "gaff," And whelmed the Gladstone gang with chaff; Since he has almost wiped out PIGOTT, Half justified the Orange bigot; Proved part of the _Times_' charge at least, And won the "Hill-men," lost the Priest;-- Since then--why, hang it, 'tis such fun, I half forgive him all he's done; I'll back him, bet on him, and grin; Give him my vote, and hope he'll win. But I _prefer_ him? Goodness gracious! Why _can't_ Gladstonians be veracious?

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SIR HENRY LOCH'S "STRAIGHT TIP" TO THE INTRUSIVE BOERS IN MASHONALAND.--"Play us none of your 'treks'!"

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* * * * *

HELMUTH KARL BERNHARD VON MOLTKE.

_BORN, OCTOBER 26TH, 1803. DIED, APRIL 24TH_, 1891.

Strong, silent Soldier, whom the unmarked years Shaped to such service of the Fatherland As seldom to one firm, unfailing hand, A State hath owed; to-day a People's tears Bedew the most illustrious of biers! The waning century hastening to its close Hath scarce a greater on its glory-roll, Hope of thy land, and terror of its foes; Of foresight keen, and long-enduring soul! War's greatness is not greatest; there are heights Of splendour pure mere warriors scarce may scale, But thou wert more than battle's scourge and flail, Calm-souled controller of such Titan fights As mould man's after-history. When thy star Shone clear at Koniggrätz, men gazed and knew The light that heralds the great Lords of War; And when o'er Sedan thy black Eagles flew And the bold Frank, betrayed and broken, drew One shuddering gasp of agony and sank, When thy long-mustered legions rank on rank Hemmed the fair, fated City of men's love, Then thy star culminated, shone above All but the few fixed beacon-lights, which owned A new compeer. Long steadfastly enthroned In German hearts, and all men's reverence, Suddenly, softly thou art summoned hence, To the great muster, full of years and fame! How thinks _he_, lord of a co-equal name, Thine ancient comrade in war's iron lists, Just left, and lone, of the Titanic Three Who led the Eagles on to victory? Calmest of Captains, first of Strategists. BISMARCK must bend o'er thy belaurelled bier With more than common grief in the unbidden tear!

* * * * *

JOKIM AND JOHN.--The CHANCELLOR of the EXCHEQUER is following Mr. JOHN HOLLINGSHEAD's example. The latter started "No fees" for Play-time, and the former advocates "No fees" for School-time.

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* * * * *

ROBERT AT THE CHILDREN'S FANCY BALL.

Well, I've said it afore, and now I says it agane, as I don't bleeve as sich another both bewtifool and elligant site is to be seen in all the world, as is to be seen at these anniwersary yearly festivals in our nobel Egipshun All at the honoured Manshun House.

Of course I don't no what sort of intertainement was held there when the aincient Egipshuns had it, or weather they ewer was there at all--for I ain't much of a hantiquery; but, from what I've seen of some on 'em at the British Mewseum, I should think as there werry peculyar style of dress was not much sooted to such occashuns.

I thinks, upon the hole, as the children's dresses on this speshal ocashun "beat the record," as the runners and jumpers says, both for illigance and wariety, and, shoud I atemt to describe 'em, where on airth shoud I begin! But, as I must begin sumwheres, I hopes as I shan't awake the biling jealousy of all the other mothers present when I says as I gives the Parm Tree to the two rayther youthfool Beef Eaters. As for the number of Angels and Fairys, with most lovly wings, they was so numerus, and so bewtifool, that ewen I, a pore Hed Waiter, coudn't help the thort, that they was a giving me my first glimpse of Pairodice. Then again I noticed as the grashus and hansum LADY MARESS--who I should ha liked to ha seen putting herself at the hed of them all, and leading em all round the bewtifool All--had most kindly inwited a few poor creetures, such as nusses, and charity Gals, and plow boys, and setterer, just to let 'em see what they may sum day cum to be, if so be as they is all good.

There was a lot of Hartists a going about makin skitches of the werry prettiest dresses insted of the werry prettiest faces, as I shood most suttenly have done. One of 'em wanted for to take my picter, but as I coudn't bleeve it was for my bewty, and was quite sure it wasn't for my full heavening dress, and coud therefore ony be for fun, I respekfully declined.

It is roomered among us Hed Waiters, that the QUEEN's own Daughter, which she's a Hempress, has told her son, which he's the HEMPEROR of GERMANY, and is a comin here next July, that the werry loveliest site as the Grand Old Copperashun can posserbly show him, will be a reppytishun of the glorious seen as I seed with my own delited eyes on Wensdy last.

ROBERT.

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

"Oh Willow! Willow!" Mr. GRACE's memories of Forty years of Cricket are full of interest, of enthusiasm, and of good stories. "My Early Cricket Days" will hugely interest young would-be Willow-wielders. "Cricketers I have Met" is excellent reading, the Champion being as generous in appreciation as keen in judgment. On the science of the game he, of course, speaks as one having authority. THACKERAY said he never saw a boy without wishing to give him a sovereign. The "Co." for some time to come will not look on an athletic lad without longing to give him a copy of "Cricket; by W.G. GRACE." He hopes that lots of other "dasters" will feel the same yearning, and act upon it.

One of the "Co." reports that he has been reading a work on _Decorative Electricity_, by Mrs. J.S.H. GORDON, and a very pretty and original little book he found it, full of suggestions, ingenious, fanciful, and practical, all at once--a rare combination. "Those about to" instal--and most of us will find ourselves in that position, sooner or later--will gain some invaluable hints and ideas from this volume, which, in addition to its other merits, is charmingly illustrated. Before very long we shall all be modern Aladdins, and summon our Slave of the Lamp as a matter of course. But there is plenty of scope for imagination in devising the form of his appearance, notwithstanding, and Mrs. GORDON's book shows us how the Genius may be compelled to present himself in a variety of pleasing and fantastic shapes.

The Baron is of opinion that _The Seal of Fate_, by Lady POLLOCK and W.H. POLLOCK, is an interesting but somewhat discursive novel. Will it be followed by _The Fate of the Seal_, a tale of the Fishery Question?

BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & Co.

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UPON AFRIC'S SHORE;

OR, THE BATTLE OF THE HEROES.

(_NOT BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE BATTLE OF LIMERICK_.")

Ye lovers of the nation, Who burn with indignation, And England's obfuscation perpetually deplore; Ye flouters of our factions, And partisan distractions, How like ye the transactions upon Afric's shore?

Ye've all heard of the Lion Who a rival cast his eye on, (You'll find him in _Bombastes_) and thought the brute a bore. Such rival Leos flourish, And mutual hatred nourish, With a snapping almost currish, upon Afric's shore.

Faith their manes are _always_ waving, And their claws for contest craving, And their forms are always rampant, and they're ever at full roar, And in book and morning paper, They still clapperclaw and caper, And they worry, snarl and vapour about Afric's shore.

There was EMIN, sage pacific, The serene and scientific, Who a wondrous reputation in a hero-patriot bore, Until "rescued" by brave STANLEY, Who declared him weak, unmanly. Oh! 'tis strange how heroes _can_ lie about Afric's shore.

Then BARTTELOT and TROUP, JEPHSON, JAMESON--a group Who each of each "made soup"--off each other tried to score; And in many a verjuiced "vollum" STANLEY's jovial "Rear Column" Was discussed in manner solemn, anent Afric's shore.

Then the "foreign element" To it tooth and nail _they_ went, And the Battle of the Heroes it grew livelier than before. Now that man, and now this man, Now DE BRAZZA and now WISSMANN, Made it hot for poor Old England upon Afric's shore.

Now comes PETERS! He has slanged STANLEY awfully, and banged The "Rescue" party badly. It is getting a big bore, When, with tempers hot as Indies, Heroes smash each other's windies, Pursuing of their shindies about Afric's shore.

It is doubtless "moighty fine," Being what _Titmarsh_ called "a line," And it does Society's "sowl" good (no doubt) to hear him roar; But 'tis folly to suppose He _must_ rush upon his foes, And hit them on the nose, upon Afric's shore.

* * * * *

EARLY CLOSING MOVEMENT.--When Mr. SMITH proposed shutting up shop early on Tuesdays and Fridays, SIR ROBERT FOWLER was all for singing, "We won't go home till morning (_three times_), Till daylight doth appear." But, as _Falstaff_ asks, "What doth gravity out of bed after midnight?" No, Sir ROBERT, doughty knight, take good advice, and hie thee, armed _Night-cap-à-pie_, to thy couch. Don't get up till morning, Till (long after) daylight doth appear!

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE PARTY PETER BELL.

A potterer, Sir, he was by trade, A Party Potterer, much respected, And every year, when Spring appeared, The yellow blooms, to bards endeared, In swarms by PETER were collected.

He roved among the vales and streams, In the green wood and hollow dell, And, upon April's nineteenth day, Big buttonholers made display Upon the heart of PETER BELL.

In vain through each succeeding year Did Nature mourn her lessening store. A Primrose on the river's brim A Party emblem was to him, And it was nothing more!

* * * * *

DISINFECTING THE WIGS.--"_L'Enfant Prodigue_," which is filling the Prince of Wales's Theatre day and night, has much in it that is delightful. Perhaps there is nothing quite excels the subtle touch in the programme where it is written: "The theatre is disinfected by the Sanitas Company, Limited. _The Wigs by Clarkson_."

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CURIOUS, AND "MORE ANON!"--The _Evelyn_ v. _Hurlbert_ trial was as full of literary interest as a sale of old books and manuscripts. Specially valuable were copies of _Evelyn's Diary_; while, in spite of the pressing demand, _Murray's Memoirs_ were uncommonly scarce. Victorious Mr. HURLBERT! Yet for all his triumph, he will be, for some time, a "very much Murray'd man."

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