Chapter 2

Some talk of Gerrymander, and some of HERCHELLES, Of HALSBURY and Mr. BRYCE, and such great names as these. But of all the world's great jobbers (swears HOZIER) none compare With the job, job, job, job, job, job, of the "Tre-vel-yan-der-er!"

GERRY, of Massachusetts, was smartish, for his time, But HOZIER "goes one better," it moves his soul to rhyme. Our Scottish Wegg (_sans_ timber leg) drops into verse--though queer. About the game--which two can play--of the "Tre-vel-yan-de-rer!"

There's Jove, the god of thunder, and Mars, the god of war, Brave Neptune, with his trident, but here's a greater, far! HOZIER-Apollo now is seen descending from his sphere To string betimes impromptu rhymes on the "Tre-vel-yan-de-rer!"

Then let us fill a bumper, and drink a health to those Who, "dropping into poetry," leave lesser wits to prose, And especially to HOZIER, who raised a ringing cheer, By his doggerel delightful on the "Tre-vel-yan-de-rer!"

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MR. G. "SHADOWED."--Of course even Mr. G. cannot be "The Shadowless Man," except under the terms of that weird story, "which is impossible." The Police have arrived at one important point about the recently arrested TOWNSEND. They now say, "We know that man, he comes from Sheffield."

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A WORK OF--SOME IMPORTANCE.

"Let who will give me a plot, _I_ will write their dialogue." (_Extract from Uncommon-place Book of_ Mr. O. WILDE.) Now when the author of _A Woman of No Importance_ and of _Lady Windermere's Fan_ has to find his own materials for a plot (_"'Play-wrights' materials for plots made up.' Idea for Literary and Dramatic Advertisement" Note-book, O. W._)--well, he does find them, and makes them his own. (_"Adoption not adaptation. A clear distinction.--N.B. I confer the 'distinction'" O. W._) Certainly "Our OSCAR" possesses the happy knack of turning out some well-polished epigrams up to Drawing-room date. And so it happens that, during the first two Acts, when Mr. WILDE'S _dramatis personae_ are all gathered together, with nothing to do and plenty to say, their conversation is light and airy, with an occasional sparkler coming out (_"A summer night, with, at intervals, a brilliant meteor flashing through the sky." Uncom. P. B., O. W._), that crackles, goes pop like the weasel of the old song, and "then is heard no more," as was the case with _Macbeth's_ poor player, and, as he was a poor player, his fate was not undeserved.--(_Mem. "A Lady Nickleby or Duchesse de Malapropos, to misquote.--For example, she might say, as quoting Shakspeare, 'Life's but a walking candle.'" O. W._)

We all remember how poor _Mr. Dick_ couldn't keep King Charles's Head out of his manuscript. The Author of _No Importance_ is similarly affected. Left to himself for a plot, he cannot keep melodrama out of his play, and what ought to have been a comedy pure and simple (or the reverse) drops suddenly into old-fashioned theatrical melodrama. During the first two Acts _Lady Hunstanton_, _Lady Caroline Pontefract_, _Mrs. Allonby_, _Lord Illingworth_, _The Venerable James Daubeny, D.D._, talk on pleasantly enough until interrupted by the sudden apparition of the aforesaid King Charles the First's Head, represented by the wearisome tirades, tawdry, cheap, and conventional, belonging to the Lytton-Bulwerian-Money period of the Drama, of which a considerable proportion falls to the share of the blameless Miss JULIA NEILSON, who, as _la belle Americaine_, HESTER WORSLEY, in her attitude towards her audience, resembles the blessed _Glendoveer_, inasmuch as it is "_hers_ to talk, and _ours_ to hear." Deeply, too, does everyone sympathise with lively Mrs. BERNARD BEERE, who, as _Mrs. Arbuthnot_, a sort of up-to-date _Mrs. Haller_, is condemned to do penance in a kind of magpie costume of black velvet, relieved by a dash of white, rather calling to mind the lady whom CHARLES DICKENS described as "_Hamlet's_ Aunt," her funereal attire being relieved by a whitened face with tear-reddened eyes. It is these two characters, with _Gerald Arbuthnot_, Mr. FRED TERRY, who, like the three gruesome personages in _Don Giovanni_, will intrude themselves into what might have been a pleasant, interesting comedy of modern manners, if only it had had a good comedy plot.

Taken as a whole, the acting is admirable. Mr. TREE, as the titled cad, _Lord Illingworth_, is perfect in make-up and manner. Certainly one of the many best things he has done. It is a companion portrait to the other wicked nobleman in _The Dancing Girl_. (_"There is another and a worse wicked nobleman" N. B., O. W._) But this is no fault, and, indeed, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to find fault with Mr. TREE'S _Lord Illingworth_. Mrs. TREE as _Mrs. Allonby_, is a very charming battledore in the game of repartee-shuttlecock, who with eight other principal characters in the piece, has nothing whatever to do with the plot. To the character of _Lady Hunstanton_, as written in the Mrs. Nickleby vein, and as played by Miss ROSE LECLERCQ, the success is mainly due; and "for this relief much thanks." It is here and in the comedy characters of the _Archdeacon_ (Mr. KEMBLE excellent in this) and of _Lady Caroline Pontefract_ (who couldn't have a better representation than Miss LE THIERE) that Mr. O. WILDE shows what he can do as a writer of comedy, both in the quality of the material and its introduction at the right moment. (_"The right speech at the wrong moment, or the wrong speech at the right moment, both are fatal. Thus is it that comedies become tragedies, and tragedies comedies." U.P.N.B., O. W._) At the Haymarket the "play's" not "the thing," it is the playing. (_"Likewise the writing," O. W._)

However, it is not for the plot, or for the Bulwery-Lyttony orations, or for the familiar melodramatic situations that audiences will seek the Haymarket. No, it will be to hear the Christy-Minstrel epigrammatic dialogue in the first two Acts, to laugh heartily at Miss LECLERCQ as _Lady Nickleby Hunstanton_, to smile on the _Archdeacon_ and _Lady Caroline_, and to enjoy the first-rate acting all round.

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MEMS, FROM THE O. W. UNCOMMONPLACE BOOK.

"Essentials for success of modern play are 'Latitude and Platitude.' First being risky is saved by second."

_Receipt for Play-making._--First catch your epigrams: preserve them for use: serve with _sauce piquante un pen risquee_ distributed impartially among a variety of non-essential _dramatis personae_, invented for the purpose. Provide fine old crusted copybook moral sentiments, to suit _bourgeois_ palate: throw in the safe situation of some one concealed, behind door or window, listening to private conversation. Add one well-tried effective dramatic situation to bring down curtain on penultimate Act, and there's a stage-dish to set before the appreciative B. P., if only it can be presented to them effectively garnished by a clever and popular Manager at a first-class theatre.

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FLOWERS OF FASHION.

The Botanical Afternoon Fete of last Wednesday was a brilliant gathering in brilliant weather. Privileged is "the Inner Circle" to have in its midst these lovely gardens. "The Flowers that bloom in the Spring, tra la!" were all out uncommonly early--long before the earliest worm, which hasn't a chance against these very early risers. "All a-growing!" on the part of the flowers, and "all a-blowing" on the part of the Band of the Second Life Guards. Among the distinguished company present we noticed the Crimson Queen, looking immensely well, the blushing Duchess of ALBANY, the Duchesse de VALLOMBROSA, Admiral COURBET, in a striking costume of "deep yellow splashed with red" (where _had_ he been?), the Ladies DAPHNE PINK and CALLAS WHITE, and Marechal NIEL. For "_Uriah Heep_," who "loves to be 'umble," a Silver Medal was awarded to Mr. PIKE. "The prize, that's my point," observed the sharp PIKE. Funny Fish PIKE.

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A PENNY WISE.--The new import of the latest Budget may be aptly called "A Penny for your Thoughts," as no one pays a tax upon his income as it really exists, but as (for Income-tax assessment purposes) he believes it to be.

THE PICK OF THE R.A. PICTURES.

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No. 18. _John Hare, Esq._, as seen and painted by Sir JOHN E. MILLAIS, Bart., R.A., "_The Hare Apparent_"--to every spectator. But what an unpleasant position! The eminent Actor is either studying a part, or has the Box-office account-book in his hand, and wants a quiet moment for serious thought or close calculation; and yet, in the next room to him (No. 19), one of Mr. ORCHARDSON'S young ladies is singing and playing a yellow chrome-atic scale, and in the room overhead (No. 17), Mr. NETTLESHIP'S tiger has broken loose, and is taking a bath. When rescued from these surroundings, this will remain at home a Hare-loominous picture for the family.

No. 28. "_Toe-Toe chez Ta-Ta._" Miss TOETOE, in blue, at work and looking down, says to the other girl, TATA, who is maliciously smiling at her, "Oh dear! I _do_ hope that no one will look at my right thumb or my toes! O Mr. WOODS, A., why was my right thumb left like this?"

No. 34. In this Mr. MORLEY FLETCHER shows us a Female Martyr in Tomartyr-coloured dress, preparatory to being taken off to the _Auto da fe_.

No. 45. "_An Undress Rehearsal_" STUART G. DAVIS.

No. 49. "_On the Temple Steps._" By JOHN GRIFFITHS. For years we've known that GRIFFITHS is "the safe man" to follow. But, unless this is a work of pure imagination, anyone well acquainted with the Temple Pier and the Temple Steps will naturally ask, "Where are the Steam-boats?"

Nos. 51, 52, and 53. The first is a Harmony in Sea by Mr. HENRY MOORE, A., and the second is Mr. MILLER'S--(WILLIAM not JOSEPH MILLER)--_Colonel Hornsby-Drake_. This Drake seems out of his element, as he ought to have been floating about with the wild fowl that belong naturally to the picture below.

Nos. 63-66.

"Four little whitey boys out for a run, Ate early greeny food. Then there were none!"

Painted by AMY SAWYER. "Not a work of imagination, my dear little boys, because you were seen by AMY--that is, AMY _saw yer_!"

No. 70. _Study in Patisserie._ Design for a chocolate ornament covered with sugar. Recommended by Messrs. CLARK AND HAMILTON.

No. 71. _Lion in Desert._ Very tame. Mr. HERBERT DICKSEE.

No. 76. _The New Skirt Dance._ . . We strongly recommend the study of this picture to admirers of the "Skirt Dance." It shows how one of the male sex may attempt it--that is, according to the idea of the designer, HERBERT DICKSEE.

No. 88. _Colonel W. Barnardiston._ "First Chairman of West Suffolk County Council." Painted by HUBERT HERKOMER, R.A. If he is "First Chairman," it doesn't matter what he is afterwards, since he has been immortalised by the admirable painting of HUBERT HERKOMER. He'll remain "First Chairman" in the _Dramatis Personae_ of this year's Catalogue, at all events, and be H. H.'s "Perpetual First Chairman," too, be the other where he may.

No. 103. "_Elder Bush._" By H. W. B. DAVIS, R.A. From the title you might expect it to be the portrait of a Presbyterian "Elder" named "BUSH." But it isn't. Look at it. It is the sweetest, most natural, perfectest of charming "bits" of rural Nature in the whole show. There's no beating about this bush; in fact this Elder Bush is one that is very hard to beat.

No. 130. _His Grace the Duke of Devonshire._ Encore! Bravo, Mr. HUBERT HERKOMER. You're are a-going it this year, you are, Sir! You've given the Duke all his Grace, and there's a kind of orange tint about him, which, just now, is not without its political signification.

No. 132. We must go to Kennington (T. B. KENNINGTON) to see "_The Queen of Love_." She is sitting on a tiger's skin, and has her hand on the head of the savage beast, which shows its fangs. "A _fang-see_ subject," says 'ARRY JOKER.

No. 158. HONEYMOONERS. "Here we are again!" Same kind of Stone Fruit from MARCUS STONE, R.A. "Sparkles this Stone as it was wont!"--_Cymbeline._ ii., 4. [_To be continued in our next._

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AMONG THE IMMORTALS AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY BANQUET LAST SATURDAY.--H.R.H. made one of his usually happy speeches; the Duke of CAMBRIDGE, the Earl of ROSEBERY, and Lord HERSCHELL represented the comedy element; while Lord KELVIN and Mr. LESLIE STEPHEN were perfect in what, theatrically speaking, is termed "the heavy lead;" and certainly their speeches were--ahem!--weighty. Pretty to note how His Scarlet-robed Eminence entered the room, not only with a grace all his own, but with His Grace of CANTERBURY as well. Never was the President, Sir FREDERICK LEIGHTON, more effective in all his speeches, and especially when replying to the toast of "The Academy," where the perfection of his speech lay in the subtle concealment of its art, and in the genuine earnestness of his advice to students _urbi et orbi_.

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SPORTING ANSWER (_Garden_).--TOTTIE: The flower you have forwarded to us is not a flower at all. It is an East African rhinoceros. We have returned it as requested, by parcel post.

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ALL-A-BLOWING!

(_A Cockney Pastoral in Spring time._)

_Who-o-o-f!_ It's hot amost as Summer-time; yet what a blessed breeze Is a-whiffing round the corners, and a-whoostling through the trees! And the sunlight on the roof-slates, all aslant to the blue sky, Seems to twinkle like the larfter in a pooty gurl's blue eye, When you swing in the dance, and she feels you've got 'er step: And the trees--ah! bless their branches!--through the winter weeks they've slep', When the worrying winds would let 'em, all as black and mum as mutes, A-waiting for the blackbirds, with their calls like meller flutes. Just to whistle them awake like. Oh! but now they stir and rouse Like a girl who has bin dreamin' of her lover in a drowse, And wakes up to feel 'is kisses on 'er softly poutin' lips. How they burst, all a-thirst for the April shower that drips Tinkle-tink from leaf to leaf, washing every spraylet clean From the sooty veil of London, which might dim the buddin' green Of the pluckiest lime-tree, sproutin' o'er brown pales in a back-yard; For these limes bud betimes, and they find it middlin' hard To make way at windy corners, when the lamp as lights 'em through, Like gold on green in pantomimes, is blown till it burns blue, By the angry nor'east gusts. But the nor'east wind to-day Is less like a rampin' lion than some new-born lamb at play. Wy, the laylock's out aready, purple spires and creamy clumps. Oh, that scent of shower-washed laylock! There's a somethin' in me jumps As I ketch it round some corner, where the heart-shaped leaflets small Cluster up against the stucco, as they did about that wall, Grey, and gritty, and glass-spiked, of our tumble-down old cot Out Epping way, in boy-time long ago, and quite a lot Of remembrances came crowding, like good ghostes, in that scent; There's the mother's call to dinner, there's the landlord's call--for rent! And the call of the rooks,--and another call, fur off, Like a whisper from a grave-yard, green and silent. Some may scoff At a Cockney's chat of laylocks. I could bury my old phiz In their crisp and nutty coolness, as I did when flirty Liz, My first sweetheart, sent me packing, one Spring mornin'--for a while-- And them blossoms cooled my anger--most as much as the arch smile Which won me back to wooin'. There's a blackbird on the top Of yon tall, half bare acacia, pipes as if he'd never stop, Tryin' all his tunelets over, like a sort of talking flute:-- "_Chip-chip! Tsee-tsee! Chu-chu! Chu-rook!_" goes the bird of sable suit. "_We-know-it! We-know-it! We-know-it! Bring-the-whip!--the whip!--the whip! "Chu-rook-chu-chu! Chu-rook-chu-chu! Tsee-tsee-chu-chu-chip-chip!_" So he pours his pantin' heart out in a song half tune, half patter, Like a meller music-haller of the tree-tops! Ah--what matter That 'tis only London's outskirts, that I'm a poor Cockney cove, When this Wondrous Spring is on us? As my shallow on I shove, And blare out my "All-a-blowing, All-a-growing!" down the streets, There's a something fresh and shining-like in every face I meets! Tis the Spring-love breaking through them! Wy, the very dirt looks clean In the shimmer of the sunlight, and the shadow of the green. _All-a-blowing! All-a-growing!_ When I shout, I seem to sing, For my cry takes on a music. It's the very Voice of Spring!

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THE DEARTH OF GENIUSES.

(_Dedicated to the Right Hon. A. J. Balfour._)

Cried Genius A. to Genius B., "Let's summon Genius C., And, to make a _partie carree_, we will call in Genius D." And when they were assembled these solemn four sat down, And they all read Mr. BALFOUR'S speech, and read it with a frown.

Said Genius A., "No Geniuses? By Heaven, he's talking rot!" And Genius B. replied thereto, "I can't say he is not." And C. and D., the poets, who warble like the birds, Agreed with Genius A. and B. in scorning BALFOUR'S words.

"A Genius _may_ arise, he says; that's coming it too strong; Why, dash it, I can count up three in prose and eke in song!" Thus A. began; the three replied, "You're not an egoist; You quite forgot to add yourself, and so complete the list."

"We'll prove it on the spot," declared dramatic Genius A. "You three shall sit as judges, and I will read my play. 'Tis a drama of the passions, all strictly based on facts, And they break the Decalogue to bits in five exhaustive Acts."

"That _might_ be good," said B.; "but _I_'ve a little thing, I guess, Which ought to take precedence, a novel in MS.; With characters so deftly drawn in all their changing scenes, That THACKERAY and DICKENS must be knocked to smithereens."

But C. broke in; his hair was long, his eyes were very wild, He was in truth a strangely-garbed and most poetic child; Said he, "Your plays and novels may all be very well, But I've an epic poem here on _Happiness in Hell_."

And D., the pretty lyricist, he hummed and then he hawed, "I've half a hundred sonnets here to MABEL, MADGE, and MAUD. I'll read them first, and then I'll read"--the other three grew pale-- "My last new book, _The Musings of a Town-bred Nightingale_."

* * * * * And so they sat, and talked and talked, the argument waxed hot, For each one was a Genius born, and none would budge a jot. And till they settle who begins, and which of them shall yield, I fear the "dearth of Geniuses"--see speech--must hold the field.

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RATHER A LONG SHOT.--How to "attempt the life of the PREMIER." Discharge a revolver in the neighbourhood of Downing Street, and listen to the report in the evening papers.

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Transcriber's note:

Missing and illegible/damaged punctuation has been repaired.

Page 208: 'Divison' corrected to 'Division'