Chapter 2

To everyone who does not look upon SHAKSPEARE's work as "Holy Writ," the question must have occurred, why did the Divine WILLIAMS put his excellent rules and regulations for play-actors into the mouth of a noble amateur addressing distinguished members of "_the_ Profession"? Imagine some royal or noble personage telling HENRY IRVING how to play _Cardinal Wolsey_, or instructing Sir FREDERICK LEIGHTON in painting, or telling J.L. TOOLE how to "get his laughs"! Probably actor and artist would listen in courtier-like silence to the illustrious lecturer, just as SHAKSPEARE makes his players behave when _Hamlet_ is favouring them with his views on the histrionic art. In Mr. GILBERT's skit the leading Player makes a neat retort, and completely shuts up _Hamlet_,--who, being mad, deserves to be "shut up,"--much to the delight of King and Court. But, the question remains, why did SHAKSPEARE ever put this speech to the players in _Hamlet's_ mouth? My theory is, that he did not want BURBAGE to play the part, but couldn't help himself, and so, out of pure revenge, he introduced this speech in which he makes BURBAGE himself condemn all his own faults. Later on the _Queen_ describes _Hamlet_ as "fat and scant of breath," which certainly was not the author's ideal Prince of Denmark; and this is evidently interpolated as "a nasty one" for BURBAGE. At the Court Theatre the skit is capitally played all round, though I confess I should have preferred seeing _Hamlet_ made up as a sort of fat and flabby _Chadband_ puffing and wheezing,--an expression, by the way, that suggests another excellent performer in this part, namely, Mr. HERMANN WHEEZIN', who might be induced to appear after a lot of "puffin'."

Finally, _A Pantomime Rehearsal_ is still about the very funniest thing to be seen in any London Theatre at the present time. The ladies are, all of them, as the old gentleman in _Pink Dominoes_ used to say, "Pretty dears!" They dance charmingly, especially Miss ELLALINE TERRISS and Miss DECIMA MOORE, whose two duets and character-dances are things of joy for ever. The representative of _Jack Deedes_, Barrister-at-Law and Gifted Author, is LITTLE and good, and the services of Mr. DRAYCOTT as the Lime-Light Comedian are invaluable. WEEDON GROSSMITH and BRANDON THOMAS are better than ever: their duet is immense, but their combat is too short. Why not introduce a _Corsican Brothers_ duel? The music, by Mr. EDWARD JONES, is thoroughly appropriate and very catching. By the way, one of the songs most encored goes with the exquisitely sensible and touching refrain of "Diddle doddle diddle chip chop cho choorial li lay," which was enormously popular about thirty years ago when it was sung at EVANS's by SAM COWELL, and by CHARLES YOUNG as _Dido_ on the stage of the St. James's Theatre. Odd this! The air has been a bit altered, but I thought that comic songs once out of date were dead and done for. The success of this is proof to the contrary. Will "Ta-ra-ra-boom" achieve a second success in 1922? Perhaps. A capital entertainment, which has caught on at the Court, says

THE HUMBLE B. IN BOX.

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"NOT AT HOME!"

(_A DUOLOGUE ON A DOORSTEP._)

SCENE--_The G.O.M.'s front door. Two expectant callers, EIGHT-HOURS BILL and Miss SARAH SUFFRAGE, in sore disappointment and some disgust, interlocute_:--

_Mr. Bill_ (_sardonically_). _You_ too? Ah! he ain't no respecter of pussons, _he_ ain't!

_Miss Sarah_ (_tartly_). Well, this tries the temper of even a Suffrage she-saint. I _did_ think,--but there, you _cannot_ trust Men--even Grand Old Ones!

_Mr. Bill. Trust_? Them as do trust Party Leaders are gen'rally _sold_ ones. It don't a mite matter _which_ side.

_Miss Sarah_. Well, as far as I see, The _other_ side shows the most signs, BILL, of favouring Me! I'm sure Mister BALFOUR was awfully civil and nice.

_Mr. Bill_. You won't trust Prince ARTHUR too far, if you'll take _my_ advice.

_Miss Sarah_. Well, no,--but I _should_ like to pay out--the other. Ah, drat him! I'd comb his scant wool, the old fox, could I only get at him. _I_'d pamphlet the wily old word-spinner.

_Mr. Bill_. Ah! I've no doubt; But wot can we do when his flunkey assures us he's out?

_Miss Sarah. We_'re out, anyhow.

_Mr. Bill_. Ah! you see you ain't never got _in_. But me, his old pardner and pal! It's a shame, and a sin! He's throwed lots of cold water of late. I am blowed if I likes His wobbleyfied views about Payment of Members, and Strikes. And then that HOOD bizness! Long rigmarole--cheered by the Tories! I fear it's all Ikybod now with our G.O.M.'s glories.

_Miss Suffrage_. I never _quite_ liked him--at heart. Mrs. FAWCETT, _she_ warned me.

_Mr. Bill_. Well, now, I _did_ love him! You see, he so buttered and yarned me; And now--he won't see me! O WILLYUM, I carn't understand it.

_Miss Suffrage_. I've asked him politely this time. P'raps next time I'll _demand_ it. Unsex me? Aha! I am willing to wager Stonehenge To a pebble, when canvassing's wanted, I'll have my revenge!

_Mr. Bill_. And though he seems cocksure the Gen'l Election he'll win, Maybe if he's _out_ to me always, _he_ may not get _in_! [_Exeunt._

_Grand Old Voice_ (_within_). Look nasty! Now have I done wisely this time--on reflection? One must be so careful--"in view of the General Election!"

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RECOLLECTIONS OF (COCKNEY) "ARABIAN" DAYS AND NIGHTS.

[Mr. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, Q.C., is about to publish, in the pages of _Household Words_, a series of descriptive articles, embodying his more than Wellerishly "extensive and peculiar" knowledge of London, and entitled "Round London, Down East, Up West."]

When the breeze of romance in my youth blew free, "A Welcome Guest" I was wont to see. It was a right good time with me, A joyful, book-devouring time. Far about London I was borne, From night to night, from morn to morn; From Street to Park, from Tower to Dock. I was conveyed "Twice Round the Clock." True Sala-ite was I and sworn, For it was in the golden prime Of graphic GEORGE AUGUSTUS: And now I find me revelling through A magazine of saffron hue, Called "_Sala's Journal_," and I swim Once more in London's rushing tide, Piloted as of old by him Through "London Up to Date." With pride, I own I have a goodly time, For still it seems the golden prime Of graphic GEORGE AUGUSTUS.

But many another since my youth The streets of Babylon hath trod, With a statistic measuring-rod, Or philanthropic gauge. In sooth There was GEORGE SIMS, there is CHARLES BOOTH. We now search out the Social Truth; A goodly plan, in the old time Foreshadowed in the golden prime Of worthy HENRY MAYHEW.

Now London Labour, London Poor, Occupy pen and pencil more Than Pictures in the Passing Show Of the Immense Metropolis. And few have knowledge such as his, (The great Q.C., the worthy Beak!) Of modern Babylon, high and low; And so shall I with interest seek These pages, full of interest, "_Round London, Down East, and Up West_." True picture of the present time, Drawn for us by the pencil prime Of good MONTAGU WILLIAMS!

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BURNING WORDS.

(_FROM A WORKING MAN._)

["How many of you men would contribute to a Working Men's Fund the shilling you put on _Orme_, who, by the way, I am sorry to see was not poisoned to death."--_Mr. John Burns in the Park._]

Look 'ere, JOHN, you stow it; you're nuts on the spoutin'; I don't mind a man as can 'oller a bit; And if shillings are goin', I'd back you for shoutin', Though your game's an Aunt Sally, all miss and no 'it. But the blusterin' chap as keeps naggin' the boys on To fight and get beat all for nothing's an ass. And I'm certain o' this, that the wust kind o' poison Is the stuff as you fellers 'ave lots of--that's gas!

What's _Orme_ done to you? _'E_ can't 'elp a cove bettin'. To get at 'im for that is a trifle too warm. And poisonin' racers ain't _my_ kind o' vettin'. I likes a good 'orse, so 'ere's 'ealth to old _Orme_. Take a bolus yourself, it might stop you from roarin'; There's nothin' like tryin' these games on yourself! And I'll throw BENNY TILLETT and one or two more in, Just to lay the whole lot o' you up on the shelf.

BEN TILLETT talks big of a mind that's a sewer; Well, 'e knows what it is, for I'll lay 'e's bin there. And _you_'d make a 'orse into cat'smeat on skewer. My eye, but just ain't you a nice-spoken pair! _I_ ain't goin' to foller you two like a shadder, Your 'eads is a darned sight too swelled up with brag. If you don't want to bust and go pop like a bladder, Why you'd best take my tip--put 'em both in a bag.

So ta-ta, JOHN. I ain't the least wish to offend you, But plain words to fellers like you is the best. If they'd give me my way, why I'd jolly soon end you, Beard, blather and all; you're no more than a pest. I can fight and take knocks, and I'll stand by my folk, Sir, I'll 'elp them as 'elps me with whatever I earns; But I've this for your pipe, if you're wantin' a smoke, Sir,-- I ain't one for poison, nor yet for JOHN BURNS!

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"MURDER IN JEST."--Is it not an extraordinary plea on behalf of a person under sentence of death for murder, that, like IBSEN's heroine, "she had never been able to take life in earnest?" Surely it should be added that "when she took somebody else's life she did take it very much in earnest."

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POPULAR SONGS RE-SUNG.

Writing of the brilliant Boanerges of the Liberal Party, the _Times_ says:--"Sir WILLIAM is the strongest stimulant known to the Gladstonian wire-pullers, and his appearance is always an indication that the vital energies of the patient are low. It is well understood that his proper place is by his own fireside, and that his true function is to evolve epigrams and construct original systems of finance in that calm retreat.... But whenever they feel particularly downcast and unhappy, they break in upon his fecund meditations, and get him to fire off a roystering speech."

This affectionate and admiring tribute from the Thunderer to its old favourite contributor "HISTORICUS," is worthy of celebrating in deathless verse. How well a dithyramb on the subject would go to a certain popular tune! As thus:--

NO. VIII.--GET YOUR HARCOURT!

AIR--"_Get your Hair Cut_!"

'Twould serve them right if never I came From my own fireside again! The way the "Thunderer" cuts me up Is vixenish--as vain. I was born an Opportunist, In a general sort of way, But it's really very impertinent For the _Times_ to grin and say:--

_Chorus._

"Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT!" Oh! whenever I'm on spout, You can hear the Tories shout, "Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT! To cheer you when your spirits are down!"

I started in the Buffo line. When things seem getting slack, I'm to the front, with lots of go. My critics may cry "Quack!" But quacking's not confined to _me_. I do extremely well, And the more "I give them physic," why The more they squirm and yell--

_Chorus._

"Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT!" But they know my sparkling spout-- Will help to turn them out. "Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT!" But I'll meet them when their sun goes down.

To play the great "HISTORICUS" part, I years ago appeared. The Thunderers stage then knew my art, But now _that_ pitch is queered! They swear that I apostatised To follow W.G., And patter about "Parnellite juice," And holloa after me--

_Chorus._

"Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT!" But, with quip, and jibe, and flout, I completely put them out. "Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT!" But I beat them, and their sun goes down!

They try all sorts of "counters" to My slogging strokes--in vain. The "Thunderer" slates me every day, But still I slog again. Old W.G. in 'Ninety-Three May form a Cabinet; Then his first thought will be of Me, And all will cry (you bet!)--

_Chorus._

"Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT! Whoever may stand out, Malwood's Squire must join, no doubt. Get your HARCOURT! Get your HARCOURT!" And _I'll_ mock them when their sun goes down!

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TO THE GRAND OLD TORY.

(_BY THE WIFE OF A DISSENTING CUMBRIAN WORKMAN_.)

O WILLIAM, you have managed to offend. The Workmen, and the Women, and the Welsh. Beware, or you'll discover ere the end That the _three_ W.'s the great _one_ can squelch!

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ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons. Monday, May 2_.--"Would that midnight or Closure would come!" murmured Prince ARTHUR just now, looking wearily up at clock.

It is only eleven; still another hour; hard even for trained nerves. For more than six hours been discussing Scotch Equivalent Grant. CLARK's musical voice has floated through the House by the half hour.

"A bagpipe with bronchitis nothing to it," says FARQUHARSON, curling himself up with delight as he hears sounds that remind him of his mountain home. HUNTER has relentlessly pursued the unhappy LORD-ADVOCATE, and CALDWELL has thoroughly enjoyed himself. His life, it will be remembered, was temporarily blighted by action of ROBERTSON when he was Lord-Advocate. Got up, following CALDWELL in debate, and dismissed a subject in a quarter of an hour's speech without reference to oration hour-and-half long with which CALDWELL had delighted House. Don't remember what the subject was, but never forget CALDWELL's seething indignation, his righteous anger, his withering wrath. ROBERTSON smiled in affected disregard; but very soon after he found it convenient to withdraw from the focus of CALDWELL's eye, and take refuge on the Scotch Bench. As for CALDWELL, he withdrew his support from Ministers, tore up his ticket of membership as a Unionist, and returned to the Gladstonian fold. A tragic story which SCOTT might have worked up into three volumes had he been alive. He is not, but CALDWELL is, and so are we--at least partially after this six hours' talk round rates in Scotland, whether at ten shillings per head or twelve shillings. At half past eleven human nature could stand it no longer; progress reported although there still remained half-an-hour available time.

_Business done_.--Scotch Members avenged Culloden.

_Tuesday_.--"Rather a mean thing for MARJORIBANKS to bolt in this way, don't you think?" said CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN, walking out of House when SINCLAIR showed signs of following CALDWELL. "Says he has some County Council meeting in Scotland. Went off by train last night; promised to be back on Thursday. We'll see. When he made that arrangement he thought Scotch Bill would be through to-night; but it won't. Will certainly go over to Thursday. So Master MARJORIBANKS will find himself caught when he comes back. Meanwhile he's escaped to-day and some hours of last night, which is something. As for me, I've stuck to my post, and will very probably die at it. Go in and listen to SINCLAIR, dear boy, following CALDWELL, succeeded by ESSLEMONT. with CLARK in reserve. I think you'll enjoy yourself."

So I did; thoroughly pleasant afternoon from two o'clock to seven. LORD-ADVOCATE visibly growing leaner in body, greyer in face. CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN's usually genial temperament souring, as will be observed from remarks quoted above. J.B. BALFOUR looking in from Edinburgh professes thoroughly to enjoy the business. But then he's fresh to it. Pretty large attendance of Members, but reserve themselves solely for Division. When bell rings three hundred odd come trooping in to follow the Whips into either lobby; then troop forth again. Long JOHN O'CONNOR beams genially down on scene.

"Glad you're having this for a change," he says. "You grumble when we Irish take the floor. Now the Scotch will oblige. Hope you'll like Caledonian and CALDWELL better than Home Rule and Erin G. O'BRIEN."

"Yes, I do," I boldly answered. Only distraught between conflicting charms of CALDWELL and SINCLAIR. There is a cold massivity about SINCLAIR, a pointedness of profile, when he declares "the Nose have it." But there is a loftiness about CALDWELL's tone, a subdued fire in his manner when he is discussing the difference between a rate of ten shillings and one of twelve, a withering indignation for all that is false or truculent (in short, anything connected with the office of Lord-Advocate) that strangely moves the listener. The very mystery of his ordinary bearing weaves a spell of enchantment around him. For days and weeks he will sit silent, watchful, with his eye on the paralysed Scotch Law Officers. Then, suddenly, as in this debate on the Equivalent Grant, he comes to the front, and pours forth an apparently inexhaustible flood of argumentative oratory, delivered with exhilarating animation. "Give me Peebles for pleasure," said the loyal Lowlander home from a fortnight's jaunt in Paris. "Give me CALDWELL for persuasive argument," says PLUNKET, himself a born orator who has missed scarcely five minutes of this two days' debate.

Curious how influence of the hour permeates and dominates everything, even to the distant Lake Ny'yassa. Question asked when House met as to how things were going on there under Commissioner JOHNSTON. No one at all surprised when, in reply, LOWTHER referred to the "two powerful Chiefs, JUMBE and MCPONDA." Should like to hear the views of the last gentleman on the Scotch Equivalent Grant, its application to secondary education in Scotland, and the probable ultimate destination of the £25,000 allotted to parochial boards.

_Business done_.--More of the Scotch Equivalent Grant.

_Wednesday_.--May Day passed off quietly enough; but you can't have air charged with electricity, and your back-cellars filled with dynamite, without danger of explosion. Burst to-day in unlooked-for place, in unexpected circumstances. HALDANE brought in Bill providing that ratepayers should share with Duke of WESTMINSTER and other great landowners benefit of unearned increment. Prospect alluring, but debate not exhilarating. House nearly empty; ASQUITH delivering able but not exciting speech in favour of Bill. Just sort of time and circumstances when, in another place, Judge might be expected to fall asleep on Bench. Citizen ROBERT GALNIGAD BONTINE CUNINGHAME GRAHAM, sitting on Bench behind ASQUITH, listening like the rest of us to his well-ordered argument. The Citizen a little tired with Sunday's peregrination. Been walking about all day with stout stick in hand, and blood-red handkerchief in pocket, ready for any emergency. At favourable moment blood-red handkerchief would flash forth, tied on to stick with timely twine, and there's your flag! Republic proclaimed; Citizen GRAHAM first President, under title GALNIGAD I., and before Secretary-of-State MATTHEWS quite knew where he was, he would be viewing the scene from an elevated position pendant in Trafalgar Square.

Chance had not come; GRAHAM still plain Citizen, in House of Commons listening to commonplace proposals about unearned increment. This evidently wouldn't do. Suddenly jumped up; shook fist at back of ASQUITH's unoffending head, and, _à propos de bottes_, "wanted to know about the swindling companies and their shareholders?"

ASQUITH really hadn't been saying anything about them; turning round beheld Citizen GRAHAM glaring upon him, throwing about his arms as if he were semaphore signalling to the rearguard of Republican Army.

"Order! Order!" cried SPEAKER, sternly.

"Oh, you can suspend me if you like," said Citizen GRAHAM, airily, as if it were no hanging matter. Members angrily joined in cry of "Order! Order!" SPEAKER promptly "named" the Citizen--not with his full list of names, for time was pressing.

"Name away!" roared the Citizen, whom nothing could disconcert. HOME SECRETARY having no fear of the lamppost before his eyes, formally moved that the Citizen be suspended. GRAHAM snapped his fingers at HOME SECRETARY. "Suspend away!" he shouted.

Members looked on aghast. ROWLANDS standing at the Bar, conscious of his hair slowly uplifting. Belonged to the advanced guard himself; but this going little too far. LUBBOCK, sitting near Citizen, strategically attempted to change the conversation. "Did you ever," he said, blandly, "notice how the queen bee, when she is--"

"Oh, you bee ----" said the Citizen, roughly shaking off the gentle Bee-master.

SAM SMITH shudderingly covered his face with his hands. "I'm so afraid," he whispered, "of the old A-dam coming out." And it did, Citizen GRAHAM himself immediately after going out, stopping at the Bar to shuffle through a few steps of the Carmagnole, and trumpet defiance on his blood-red handkerchief.

After this, a mere flash of lightning through the low clouds of a dull afternoon, ASQUITH went on with his speech, debate proceeded as if nothing had happened, and HALDANE's Bill thrown out by 223 Votes against 148. _Business done_.--Citizen GRAHAM suspended.

_Friday_.--House met to-day as it did yesterday and day before to discuss Bills and Motions. But all the talk really turns upon date of Dissolution, and what is likely to happen after a General Election. SQUIRE OF MALWOOD serenely confident in the future.

"Yes," I said to him to-night, "it must be a great comfort to you to reflect that when you come into office you will not have to beat about for a programme. You've got your Newcastle platform, and I suppose a Liberal Ministry will stand upon that."