Chapter 1

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PUNCH,

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 103.

July 16, 1892.

TO THE FIRST BATHING-MACHINE.

(_AFTER WORDSWORTH._)

O blank new-comer! I have seen, I see thee with a start: So gentle looking a Machine, Infernal one thou art!

When first the sun feels rather hot, Or even rather warm, From some dim, hibernating spot Rolls forth thy clumsy form.

Perhaps thou babblest to the sea Of sunshine and of flowers; Thou bringest but a thought to me Of such bad quarter hours.

I, grasping tightly, pale with fear, Thy very narrow bench, Thou, bounding on in wild career, All shake, and jolt, and wrench.

Till comes an unexpected stop; My forehead hits the door, And I, with cataclysmic flop, Lie on thy sandy floor.

Then, dressed in Nature's simplest style, I, blushing, venture out; And find the sea is still a mile Away, or thereabout.

Blithe little children on the sand Laugh out with childish glee; Their nurses, sitting near at hand, All giggling, stare at me.

Unnerved, unwashed, I rush again Within thy tranquil shade, And wait until the rising main Shall banish child and maid.

Thy doors I dare not open now, Thy windows give no view; 'Tis late; I will not bathe, I vow: I dress myself anew.

Set wide the door. All round is sea! "Hold tight, Sir!" voices call, And in the water, jerked from thee, I tumble, clothes and all!

O blessed thing! this earth we pace Thy haunt should never be, A quite unmentionable place That is fit home for thee!

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STUDIES IN THE NEW POETRY.

NO. III.

It is with the greatest possible pleasure that _Mr. Punch_ presents to his readers the following example of the New Poetry. It is taken from a collection entitled "_Rhymes of the Ropes_" These Rhymes are intended to illustrate the everyday life of the British prize-fighter, his simple joys, his manly sorrows, his conversational excellences, and his indomitable pluck. The author has never been a prize-fighter himself, but he claims for these Rhymes the merit of absolute truth in every detail. In any case it is quite certain that every critic who reviews the volume will say of it, that no previous book has ever presented to us, with such complete fidelity, the British prize-fighter as he lives and moves, and has his being--not the gaudy, over-dressed and over-jewelled creature whom the imagination of the public pictures as haunting the giddy palaces of pleasure, and adored by the fairest of the fair, but the rough, uncouth, simple creature to whom we Britons owe our reputation for pluck and stamina. How the critic knows this, never having been a prize-fighter himself, and never having associated with them, is a question which it might be difficult to answer. But, nevertheless, the critic will guarantee the "_Rhymes of the Ropes_."

If some of _Mr. Punch's_ readers, while recognising the force and go of the lines, shall think them _tant soit peu_ coarse and brutal, the fault must not be ascribed to _Mr. Punch_, but to the brilliant young author. Moreover, _Mr. Punch_ begs leave to say, that squeamishness of that kind is becoming more and more absurd every day under the influence of the New Poetry and its professors. Here then is--

KNOCKED OUT.

BY MR. R*D**RD K*PL*NG.

Oh it's bully when I land 'em with a counter on the jaw, When the ruby's all a drippin' and the conks are red and raw; And it's bully when I've downed 'em, and the lords are standin' booze, Them lords with shiny shirt-fronts, and their patent-leather shoes. But you'd best look jolly meek When you're up afore the beak, For they hustle you, and bustle you, and treat you like a dog. And its 'Olloway for you For a month or may be two, Where the Widow keeps a mansion and purvides you with your prog.

It was 'ero 'ere and 'ero there, I might 'ave been a King, For to 'ear 'em 'ip 'urraying as I stepped into the ring, When I faced the Tipton Slasher, me and 'im in four-ounce gloves, Just to make us look as 'armless as a pair o' bloomin' doves. Then I bruises 'im and batters, And 'e cuts my lips to tatters, And I gives 'im 'alf a dozen where 'is peepers ought to be. And 'e flattens out my nose With a brace of bally blows, Which I 'ardly 'ad expected from a pug as couldn't see.

Next round the Slasher's groggy, 'e 'angs 'is 'ands and gropes (I'd knocked him orf 'is legs at last) a-feelin' for the ropes. And, lor, 'e looked so cheerful with 'is face a mask of red That I bust myself with laughin' when I bashed 'im on the 'ead. Then they counted up to ten, But 'e couldn't rise again; 'E gasped a bit, and puffed a bit, and laid there in a 'eap. And I copped a thousand pounds For a fight of seven rounds, Which was all the time it took me for to put my man to sleep.

Ah, the soft uns call it brutal; there's Mr. H.P. COBB, And 'is talk, which isn't pretty, about ruffians (meanin' us). I'd like to tap _'is_ claret when 'e's up and on the job, And send 'im 'ome a 'owlin' to 'is mammy or 'is nuss. But I'd rather take the chuck For a show of British pluck, And do my month in chockee, and eat my skilly free; And I'll leave the curs to snivel With their 'Ouse o' Commons drivel, Which may suit a pack of jaw-pots, but, by gosh, it don't suit me.

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"What I suffer from, at this time of year, when I go into the country," says Mrs. R., "is 'Flybites.'" She pronounced it as a word of three syllables, and then added, "I rather think the learned way of spelling it is 'Phlybites.'"

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CORIOLANUS.

"I would he had continu'd to his country As he began, and not unknit, himself, The noble knot he made."

_Coriolanus_, Act IV., Scene 2.

"His Majesty discriminates between the Prince BISMARCK of former times, and of to-day, and is anxious that his Government should avoid everything which might tend to diminish, in the eyes of the German nation, the familiar figure of its greatest Statesman."--_Instructions to Imperial German Representatives abroad:_--

Can this be he who "At the Gates"[1] Of Janus' Temple stood of old, Protective, vigilant, and bold, As one who calmly dares--and waits?

"_So fancy limns him, who'll not cease To watch o'er what his brain upbuilt_," _Punch_ sang. And now he lifts the hilt, Warlike, against a Patriot Peace.

Calm warder then, challenger now. The tower he reared would he attack, Because--they have not called him back Like CINCINNATUS from the plough?

"The wounds that he doth bear for Rome," Should speak wide-lipped against the change. The new _Coriolanus_! Strange, So great a past to _this_ should come!

The imperious Roman, banished, bared Against Rome's walls a traitor blade. But _you_--revenge is scarce your trade, Hero, in faction's mazes snared.

The shirt of Nessus poisoned not, Nor angered Hercules as you Seem angered, poisoned. Yet you knew On ARNIM's shield to bare the blot.

What should it say, Count HARRY's ghost, Could it beside your couch appear, And whisper in his foeman's ear? Share you not that which shamed him most?

_You_ flaunt the Press against the Throne? _You_ bare State secrets to the crowd? You who against the Mob were loud, With mockery MARCIUS well might own?

It doth not fit a splendid past. The Sentinel in arms arrayed Against the Citadel, a shade Of gloom o'er glory's sheen will cast.

The illustrious name of BISMARCK blot With no such treason as could dim The Roman's glory, nor, like him. Yourself unknit _your_ "noble knot"!

[Footnote 1: _See_ Cartoon "At the Gates," p. 151, vol. 85, year 1883.]

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THAT DUTCHMAN OOMS.

AIR--"_THE ADMIRAL'S BROOM_."

[J.J.K. OOMS, an amateur sculler from Amsterdam, won easily the "Diamond Sculls" at Henley this year, beating V. NICKALS, and others of our crack oars.]

Oh, OOMS was a champion brave and bold, The Dutchman's pride was he; And he cried, "I can row on the Thames, I know, As well as the Zuyder Zee, As well as the Zuyder Zee!" And as his boat he set afloat, And looked o'er the Henley tide, He saw all England taking note, And he trimmed his sculls and cried:--(_Bis._) "I'll win those 'Sculls!'" said he, "The 'Diamond Sculls' for me! That the world may know, wherever I go Thames yields to the Zuyder Zee!" (_Bis._)

Cried JOHN BULL, "Here! You Dutchman queer. To-day you must row with me; For while I ride Thames' silver tide, I'll be second to none," said he; "I'll be second to none," said he. So they blazed away at that Dutchman gay, Stout NICKALS, brave BOYD, and all-- _But_ the Dutchman's ship our best did whip, And BULL cried to his merry men all, (_bis_) "We're whipped, boys, for once," said he, "It's a whip that's a licker to me." Right well OOMS pulls, and the 'Diamond Sculls' Are gone to the Zuyder Zee! VAN TROMP with his broom made free, But this OOMS has "swept" Hen-ley. Here's his health! But oh! those Sculls, you know, Must come back from the Zuyder Zee."

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SOME COMFORT.--Harrow beat Eton at Lords' last week. The Etonians have some consolation in the fact of the Head-Master of Harrow being an Etonian. Without doing violence to their feelings, they can simply pronounce the Head-Master's name, and say, "_Well done, Harrow!_"

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NEW READING OF AN OLD GREEK PROVERB (_by a disappointed Author, whose Work has been recently cut up in the Press_).--"[Greek: Krêtai aei Pseustai]." _I.e._, "Critics are always liars."

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ON THE FLY-LEAF OF AN OLD BOOK.

It's long been loose; at last it's quite Come out--the very thing to write My laundry list on. Think what might Have been upon it! Some lines by GOLDSMITH, neatly planned, A verse by BYRON, mighty grand, Or even, penned by SHAKSPEARE's hand, A song or sonnet;

DA VINCI might have made a sketch, Or REMBRANDT drawn a head to etch, Or TURNER dashed some tints--'twould fetch A thousand guineas. Here might have been some notes, compiled By IBSEN, MAETERLINCK, or WILDE, On how some writers have beguiled Some simple ninnies;

Some words on Cooks, by RANDOLPH C., Or Greek Home Rule, by Grand Old G., Some Irish notes by A.J.B., A cheque from DILLON. How useless now to think what might Have been, for I have blacked the white! It is not even fit to write A washing-bill on!

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CHURCH AND BOOTH.--The Archbishop of CANTERBURY was recently a guest at the Munching House on the occasion of an Undenominational Banquet. His Grace, in a post-prandial speech, observed that the Salvation Army came "fluting" among us, but he thought that the Army's success would be as "fleeting" as it was "fluting." Neat this for his Grace-after-dinner. This was a nice after-dinner way of giving "_caviare_ to the General." No "laughter" appears to have followed, so the _caviare_ was not generally taken.

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LITERARY NOTE AND QUERY.--First volume of _Tacitus_ translated into English by A.W. QUILL. Judging from a review in the _Times_ of this instalment, it is the work of neither a soft nor hard Quill, but a medium Quill. With such a suggestive name, this author will show himself a Goose Quill if he does not at once turn his attention to the History of PENN.

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LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.

_The Bobolink, Henley._

DEAR MR. PUNCH,

The Election at Sheepsdoor being regarded as a "moral" for our Candidate--(what a delightful change from the _im-moral_ way in which elections _used_ to be conducted!)--I felt it was safe for me to wing my flight to fresh scenes and pastures new!--not that I wanted any "new pastures," having been a _grass_-widow for some time;--but having had enough of the "rolling billow"--(by the way, the rolling "_Billow_" at Stockbridge didn't roll fast enough)--I yearned for the silvery smoothness of Father Thames, so started for Henley with my faithful _Eulalie_--(I really must change her name, it sounds like a Swiss jödel); but, oh! my goodness!--talk about _billows_--the Channel passage is a fool to what we found at Henley! Waves mountain high!--(This of course is an exaggeration, but I've read it so often in sea-novels, that I've almost come to believe it possible--it would be nearer the truth, as dear Mrs. RAMSBOTHAM would pronounce it, I fancy--waves "mounting high.") I had to sit all day on the roof of the _Bobolink_, with a lifebelt or _something_ round my waist!--and having made me acquaintance of a sweet youth who could swim, I implored him not to leave me!--and he didn't--the whole day long. Ah! he was _very_ nice!--I need not tell you I didn't notice the racing _much_, but I did take an interest in _two_ of the contests; viz.--(I don't know what "viz." means--but I _do_ know I am using it correctly)--The Diamond Sculls, and The Ladies' Challenge. The Diamonds were walked off, or rowed off to Holland--(great place, I'm told, for diamonds)--by Mr. K. OOMS (who evidently "kooms" of an athletic stock), amid the generous cheers of our defeated Englishmen! The other--and naturally, from its title, the most important event--was competed for by two boat-loads from Cambridge University--_Crews_, I believe, they call them, but I always thought it was a sign of contempt to allude to any party of people as "a crew." However that may be, I was informed that "First Trinity had carried off the Ladies!" (just as if they were a pack of Sabine women), and I suppose it was true; though, in counting up the Ladies in sight, I only missed _one_--and she, I found, had fallen into the river, and been gallantly rescued by a spectator, who, I presume, was determined to have _his_ share, in spite of the First Trinity Men!

Back to town, after all was over on Thursday, to find everybody wild with "election fever." A large group surrounding the "tape" at the Club (I belong to the "Amazon," of course), and ordering lemon squashes when a seat was lost, and whiskey and seltzer when the reverse was the case! Oh, this Election! Thank goodness, I'm off to Newmarket, to spend the week with Sir NEWMAN and Lady GATESHEAD, with a distinct feeling of relief at getting back to business after this fortnight of exciting relaxation!

Next week's racing furnishes quite a lengthy _menu_, with several attractive _entrées_, and some good "made-up-overnight" dishes; in fact, a programme which appeals strongly to every racy palate. I do not propose to work my way through the entire _menu_ (not being an Alderman), and will only hint at a few of the side-dishes, which may be worth attention reserving my great effort for the "_plat de résistance_" at Sandown; so, at Newmarket--try just a mouthful of July Handicap _à la_ Duke of DEVONSHIRE's "Selected;" should it choke you, have a pat on the "Bach" when attacking the Beaufort _Stakes_; and to wind up with dessert, worthy of a CHESTERFIELD, take a "Meddler." If this conglomeration of good things is not too much for you, travel back to town in time for the great race of the week; but, _if_ upset, don't blame,

Yours devotedly, LADY GAY.

"ECLIPSE STAKES SELECTION."

With _Gouverneur_, _Orme_, and such giants to run, It needs the cool calm of a PLATO To fix on the horse that will "capture the bun!" But I think it will be "_Orvieto_."

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OPERATIC NOTES.

_Tuesday._--_Première_ of _Elaine_. BEMBERG Composer, LÉON-JEHIN Conductor, and Sir DRURIOLANUS Producer. Full House, determined to give New Opera a fair hearing, and sit it out. Don't get a new Opera every day. Congratulations to BEMBERG in a general way. "In a first Opera" (if this be his first), to quote the Composer of the recent De-La-ra-Boom Buddha, who was complacently listening to the other Composer's new Opera, "originality breeds contempt." So a little bit here, and a little bit there, here a bit, and there a bit, and everywhere a bit, gets rid of all superfluity in the Composer's brain, and saves the listening critic much trouble. Then his next Opera--Ah!--_that_ ought to be all genuinely new and original Sparkling BEMBERG Cabinet. "_Elaine_," observed a lady critic, "is graceful and airy"--which, in the lady's presence, the present listener was not prepared to deny.

Contented must have been Composer BEMBERG with such a cast as was made and provided for him by Sir DRURIOLANUS. MELBA, as the "Lily Maid of Astolat," charming, with a charming song, "_L'Amour est pur_." The audience was in an encoring humour, but, thank goodness, only a few encores were taken, and the others left, otherwise none of us would have been home till sunrise. In the swan-like dying scene the Composer wrings our heart-strings with his harp-strings, reminding everyone forcibly that, as _Mr. Guppy_ observed, "There _are_ chords!" Wagnerian, sometimes, is our BEMBERG, with his horns and brass. Fine chorus at beginning of Act II.--the Tournament Act--which shows, as a foolish person observed, "a Rummy lot at Camelot." At end of Third Act MELBA and JEAN DE RESZKÉ (who must have joined the Salvation Army, as he was, apparently, "saving himself" all the evening) were enthusiastically called. Engaged in curtseying her thanks, MELBA didn't notice--as, how should she?--property steps behind her, on which, at about her tenth curtsey, she suddenly sat down about two seconds before she could possibly realise that there was any chance of sitting down. But JEAN LAUNCELOT DE RESZKÉ was there, and rescued her! Good Knight! JEAN DE RESCUE! Then EDWARD, as _Hermit_, own brother to _Friar Laurence_, excellent. But so were they all, and the Opera will well repay several re-hearings.

_Thursday._--_Aïda_. Generally considered rather a heavy Opera by VERDI. "But to-night," says WAGSTAFF, "the Verdi-ict quite t'other way." MAUREL excellent as _Amonasro_, and MAGGIE MACINTYRE looked, acted, and sang Maggie-nificently. Uncommonly good was GIULIA RAVOGLI as _Amneris_, _Aïda's_ rival for the love of the small-sized _Radamès Dimitresco_, or Dimi-nutive-Tresco (comparatively speaking), to whom EDWARD DE RESZKÉ, being quite _a Ned_ and shoulders taller, might spare some of his superfluous inches.

EDWARD uncommonly good as _Ramfis_, which name, considering the peculiar make-up, might be appropriately changed to _Rum Phiz_, and nobody be any the worse. BEVIGNANI conducted himself and the orchestra admirably; M. PLANÇON, in English Plain Song, did all well that as _Il Re_ he had to do, looking every inch a _Re_, and not a bit _Il_. Mlle. BAUERMEISTER was _Una Sacerdotissa_, but she would be anything and do everything well. Signer RINALDINI was _Un Messagiero_. His costume might have been more effective had Sir AUGUSTUS brought him up to date as a Messenger Boy for the Telephonie-sol-fa Company. This can be amended. House good.

_Friday_.--Covent Garden, _Elaine_ expected, but didn't appear. JOHN THE RISKY, the _Launcelot_ of the Opera, unwell. "Not _Launcelot_, but another!" cried Sir DRURIOLANUS, only there wasn't another. So _Carmen_ was played. "Not this _Elaine_," continued Sir AUGUSTUS, "but Drur-e-lane." So away! to hear the Trumpeter of the German Band. This _Trompeter_ might be played as a trump in a small house, but 'tis trumpery for Drury Lane. One phrase of an old music-hall ditty, the words of which were, "She walked forward, _I_ followed on, tra la la!" constantly recur. Who originated it? Unwonted excitement of going to two Operas told on shattered frame, so staggered to Maiden Lane, which, on account of its being the home for oysters, crabs, and lobsters, should be renamed Mer-maiden Lane. Behold! good Dr. BAYLIS "within the Rules" making up his evening prescriptions. "_Quis supperabit?_" asked the learned Dr. B. "_Ego_," replied I, like JEAMES, knowing the language. And "supper-a-bit" it was. "'84 _wachterum unum pintum frigidum sumendum cum_ '92 _chickeno_," &c. "My benizon on thee!" said CRITICUS REDIVIVUS. "Dr. BAYLIS, I bay-_liss_ thee!" with the accent on the "_liss_." So home. After all the chops and changes of this operatic life, I am with "chicken and champagne" content. _Finis coronat opus._

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MORE CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE ALCOHOLIC QUESTION.

(_A FEW REMARKS ON DR. ROBSON ROOSE'S ARTICLE IN NEW REVIEW._)

1. Inebriates should be shut up in Alcoholloway Prison.

2. "_Food-accessory_" is a very pretty name for drink. Henceforth let the butler go round as "the merry toast goes round." Let butlers and footmen, in dining-rooms and places where they have various liquors, be instructed to inquire of each and every guest "What food-accessory will you take, Sir?"

3. "_The use of Alcohol dates from very early times._" But it is not recommended by the faculty as a good thing to be taken at 7 A.M., or at any time in the morning immediately on awaking.

As to when any one has had enough "alcohol," the old test first put forward many years ago by _Mr. Punch_, still holds good. If you can say "British Constitution" distinctly, and without effort, so that it shall not be all in one composite word sounding like "Bri'sh-conshushun," then, perhaps, you may go up-stairs (if you can) and join the ladies.

4. "_The liver is very prone to become affected._" The question is, first, Is "an evil liver" or "a good liver" here intended? But, apart from this, any affectation in a liver, good or bad, is objectionable. It must be taken for granted, in a serious discussion on the subject, that "a slave to his liver" is a synonym for "a livery servant." The one objection to a livery servant lies in this very fact; for a slave to liver is rarely in a good humour, and is generally sulky, lazy, and disobliging.

5. "_Wine comes in, rubs off the acerbities, and brings all down to the same level of good humour._" The end of such a happy party is, of course, all under the table, smiling, but speechless.

Smiling, but beautiful they lay, A gleam was in their half-closed eye, But still they murmured with a sigh, Hic-shelsher-wa'.