Part 1

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

Volume 108, February 23rd, 1895.

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_

THE O. W. VADE MECUM.

_Question._ Is it easy to become a dramatist?

_Answer._ As easy as anything else.

_Q._ What are the requisites?

_A._ A West-end theatre, a first-rate troupe of artists, a trained audience, and a personality.

_Q._ What do you mean by a trained audience?

_A._ An assembly accustomed to accept everything as wit, and to laugh at anything.

_Q._ Would such a gathering consider it amusing for someone to say "Flirting with one's husband is quite indelicate: it is like washing one's clean linen in public"?

_A._ Certainly; and would find much to admire in a dialogue given over for something like ten minutes to an exhaustive consideration of muffins.

_Q._ And what do you mean by a personality?

_A._ More or less--an _insouciant_ manner, and a rather startling button-hole.

_Q._ Does the personality require a speech or a cigarette?

_A._ Neither now, as both have ceased to be the fashion.

_Q._ Given the requisites you have specified for creating a dramatist, what is the product?

_A._ A trivial comedy for serious people.

_Q._ Why give a play such a title?

_A._ Why not?

_Q._ Can a comedy occupying two or three hours in representation be entirely trivial?

_A._ Not to the members of the audience.

_Q._ And are they serious people?

_A._ That depends upon the condition of their brains and their capacity of enjoyment.

_Q._ Does the trivial comedy require a plot?

_A._ Nothing to speak of.

_Q._ Or characterisation?

_A._ No, for the same kind of dialogue will do for all the company--for London ladies, country girls, justices of the peace, doctors of divinity, maid-servants, and confidential butlers.

_Q._ What sort of dialogue?

_A._ Inverted proverbs and renovated paradoxes.

_Q._ Is this kind of dialogue entirely new?

_A._ Not entirely, as something rather like it has been heard at the Savoy for the last ten or twenty years.

_Q._ But is it good enough for a British Public?

_A._ Quite good enough. They will laugh when a London lady expresses surprise at finding flowers growing in the country, and roar when they hear the retort, that plants are as common in the provinces as people in town.

_Q._ But surely this vein of sarcasm, satire, or whatever it is, will some day be worked out. What can the dramatist then do?

_A._ Act upon precedent, and try something else.

* * * * *

* * * * *

TONING IT DOWN.

(_See the Daily Papers of Last Week._)

JAPANESE VERSION. CHINESE VERSION.

Early on Tuesday a severe The Chinese Fleet gave a good engagement took place between account of the Japanese the Japanese Fleet and the Squadron on Tuesday. The Chinese Flotilla, in which slaughter of the Japs was the Chinese ironclads enormous, amounting to at _Wi Ho Wi_, _Bang Tel Bang_, least 40,000 sailors and and _Bosh Lu Rot_ were sunk. 50,000 marines. There was no The loss on the Japanese loss on the Chinese side. side was a cabin-boy wounded. Owing to a mistake the The Chinese prisoners _Wi Ho Wi_ lost a rope, the amounted to 180,000 men. _Bang Tel Bang_ had her figure-head slightly damaged, and the _Bosh Lu Rot_ re-entered port just to have her deck repainted. The Japanese lost several ironclads and all their torpedo-boats.

On Wednesday morning the On Wednesday an attack of Japanese landed and took all 70,000 Japanese troops was the forts, and garrisoned repulsed with great slaughter the city, which is now by the Chinese, and the completely in the hands of invaders are now in active the troops of the Taicoon. retreat. The Chinese have not pursued them, from motives of an entirely philanthropic character.

On Thursday the Japanese An artillery duel took place commenced a general on Thursday between the bombardment of the Chinese troops and the island, and blew up all the Japanese, in which the latter forts and sixty-seven powder lost all their war materiel magazines. The Chinese loss and seventy-nine general is estimated at 36,000 men. officers. The casualty on the The Japanese escaped Chinese side was one unscathed. drummer-boy slightly wounded--sprain of the left little toe.

On Friday the Japanese made For a few minutes the Japanese their grand attack and took secured a footing on the island, the island by assault, and but were soon induced to destroyed all the enemy's retreat. Many of the Chinese fleet, with the exception ironclads have seen much of a gun-boat. service, but are still able to dispose of the enemy.

The Chinese Fleet on Saturday The Chinese Admiral during was entirely at the mercy of Saturday has wired to his the Japanese, and the Admiral Government--"The Japanese, is soliciting for terms. A after one slight reverse, flag of truce is floating having lost all heart, are from the remaining Chinese now suing for peace. We shall ironclad. be careful to guard the best interests of the empire."

On Sunday the Japanese The Chinese Admiral (under consented to permit the Sunday's date) has wired to Chinese Admiral and sailors Pekin--"Have come to to unconditionally arrangement with Japanese surrender, and have authorities. Shall not return arranged to protect them to Pekin. Good-bye. Those from the fury of the who have no other engagements Chinese Government. are going home to tea."

* * * * *

HARD LINES.

(_By a Mathematical Bard._)

Ah, spooks of EUCLID, NEWTON, weep for me, For I'm a miserably blighted biped! And here's the cause--I wrote an ode, you see, Alluding to a parallel_e_piped.

I'd spelt my polysyllable all right, The blessed word I hoped would make me famous; The vulgar error I'd avoided quite, And thought no one _could_ call me "ignoramus."

It safely passed in proof through each "revise"; But didn't I _rave_, when I my book inspected, And found it by some printer over-wise To "parallel_o_piped" miscorrected!

* * * * *

MR. PUNCH'S CRITICISM ON JOHN DAVIDSON'S LATEST PRODUCTION.--"It ain't all Lavender."

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE UNEMPLOYED.

_Plumber Joe loquitur_:--

Oh, bust it! Or, rayther, bust _them!_ I've my eye on the pipes o' this House, As might give me the chanst as _I_ wants, but, by gob, it's a regular chouse. Nary bust in 'em yet, as I sees! I ain't none o' yer ornary hands, There isn't a task in my trade but wot smart Plumber JOE understands, And at making a jint I'm daisy. Our trade is a topper, it is, But one arf of the pottrers called plumbers ain't nothink like up to their biz-- Mere poor paltryfoggers, most on 'em, as boggle, and bungle, and botch. 'Tain't _bizness_ the beggars are arter, but more speshul Irish--or Scotch! A copper-bit jint is their utmost, but wot they like most is a splodge Of canvas and white-lead or putty; _their_ work is all fakement and dodge, As won't last a fortnit, not watertight. As to a blow-jint, well did, They jest couldn't take it on nohow--no, not if you tipped 'em a quid. But I'm a certif'cated plumber, a master of shave-hook and solder, Of turn-pin, and mallet, and fire-devil. Plumber who's smarter and bolder With blow-pipe, and lamp-black, and size, you won't find London through if yer try; And at "wiping a jint"--ah!--a pickter--there's none as can wipe JOEY'S eye. Then at sanitry work! Bless yer buttons, yer dashed County Council ain't in it; And as to that there WALLACE BRUCE, wy, I'll jist wipe him up in a minit, Though he _has_ a good fighting name on 'im. Calls me a quack, too, does BILL, And 'ints I dunno my own trade! Wait a bit, and I'll give _him_ a pill. Insanitry aireys, indeed! As a judge of a rookery or slum There ain't ne'er a Cockney C. C. as can sideup with JOEY the Brum; Wot _'e_ doesn't know 'aint _wuth_ knowing. I'll set 'em all right, though,--in time. When England's _all_ Brummagemised, and I'm boss of it, _won't_ it be prime? Meanwhile, I'm a bit out-of-work. Unemployed, so to speak, like a lot, Although I ain't no "Unskilled Labourer." HARDIE talks thunderin' rot, But I thought 'e might make me a hopening. Somehow the fakement was lost. And yet I _should_ be flush o' work, for we've had a unusual frost, As this House, like the rest, must have felt. Wy, I thought they'd ha' bust long ago, Them Guverment pipes, and be blowed to 'em. 'Ere in the sludge and the snow I've bin waiting a tidy long spell, till my toes 'ave like icicles grown. I've bin journeyman quite long enough, and I want to set up "on my own." Pal ARTHUR is all very well, but at bossing a bit of a slob. And when these big pipes do a bust, well--I see a rare charnce of a job!

* * * * *

FIN DE SIÈCLE.--"New men, new manners." "New women--no manners."

* * * * *

AN ARTISTIC "FROST."

[According to the _Daily Telegraph_, the Saffron Hill street-musicians are complaining that their barrel-organs are frozen.]

_Macaroni Carlo sings_:--

_Ah, che la morte ognora_-- _Basta!_ no more can I play! _So ai nostri monti ancora Ritorneremo_ to-day!

_Ebbene, il mio padrone_-- I bid 'im an' Londra good-bye! 'E may grind out 'imself 'is _canzone_ For never again will I try!

_E troppo!_ my barrel--'e's frosty, An' round I can not make 'im turn! The music of VERDI and TOSTI No longer a _soldo_ can earn!

"_My Honey!_" won't thaw, and there's "_Daisy_" An _icicle_ frozen right through! So _addì, Inghilterra, paese_ Where artists have no more to do!

* * * * *

RETURN TO THE CLASSICS.--There is a talk of reviving Olympian Games. Athens or Paris to begin. The competitors to be cosmopolitan. England will send her prize boxer or wrestler, and if crowned victor, let him, after the manner of the ancient Greeks, be free of taxes and rates for the remainder of his life. How the competition will grow. The Smiths, the Browns, all the patres familias will be urged by the matres to go forth and take part in the contest.

* * * * *

IN THE CAUSE OF CHARITY.

SCENE--_Mona House, the Town Mansion of the_ Marquis of MANX, _which has been lent for a Sale of Work in aid of the "Fund for Superannuated Skirt-dancers," under the patronage of Royalty and other distinguished personages_.

IN THE ENTRANCE HALL.

_Mrs. Wylie Dedhead_ (_attempting to insinuate herself between the barriers_). Excuse me; I only want to pop in for a moment, just to see if a lady friend of mine is in there, that's _all!_

_The Lady Money-taker_ (_blandly_). If you will let me know your friend's name----?

_Mrs. W. D._ (_splendide mendax_). She's assisting the dear Duchess. _Now_, perhaps, you will allow me to pass!

_The L. M._ Afraid I can't, really. But if you mean Lady HONOR HYNDLEGGES--_she_ is the only lady at the Duchess's stall--I could send _in_ for her. Or of course, if you like to pay half-a-crown----

_Mrs. W. D._ (_hastily_). Thank you, I--I won't disturb her ladyship. I had no _idea_ there was any charge for admission, and--(_bristling_)--allow me to say I consider such regulations _most_ absurd.

_The L. M._ (_sweetly, with a half glance at the bowl of coins on the table_). Quite _too_ ridiculous, ain't they? _Good_ afternoon!

_Mrs. W. D._ (_audibly, as she flounces out_). If they suppose _I_'m going to pay half-a-crown for the privilege of being _fleeced_----!

_Footman_ (_on steps, sotto voce, to confrère_). "Fleeced"! that's a good 'un, eh? _She_ ain't brought much wool in with _her!_

_His Confrère._ On'y what's stuffed inside of her ear.

[_They resume their former impassive dignity._

IN THE VENETIAN GALLERY--_where the Bazaar is being held_.

_A Loyal Old Lady_ (_at the top of her voice--to Stall-keeper_). Which of 'em's the Princess, my dear, eh? It's her I paid _my_ money to see.

_The Stall-keeper_ (_in a dismayed whisper_). Ssh! Not _quite_ so loud! There--just opposite--petunia bow in her bonnet--selling kittens.

_The L. O. L._ (_planting herself on a chair_). So _that's_ her! Well, she _is_ dressed plain--for a Royalty--but looks _pleasant_ enough. I wouldn't mind taking one o' them kittings off her Royal 'Ighness myself, if they was going at all reasonable. But there, I expect, the cats _'ere_ is meat for my masters, so to speak; and you see, my dear, 'aving the promise of a tortoise-shell tom from the lady as keeps the Dairy next door, whenever----

[_She finds, with surprise, that her confidences are not encouraged._

_Miss St. Leger de Mayne_ (_persuasively, to_ Mrs. NIBBLER). Do let me show you some of this exquisite work, all embroidered entirely by hand, you see!

_Mrs. Nibbler_ (_edging away_). Lovely--_quite_ lovely; but I think--a--I'll just take a look round before I----

_Miss de M._ If there is any _particular_ thing you were looking for, perhaps _I_ could----

_Mrs. N._ (_becoming confidential_). Well, I _did_ think if I could come across a nice _sideboard-cloth_----

_Miss de M._ (_to herself_). What on earth's a sideboard-cloth? (_Aloud._) Why, I've the very _thing!_ See--all worked in Russian stitch!

_Mrs. N._ (_dubiously_). I thought they were always quite plain. And what's that queer sort of flap-thing for?

_Miss de M._ Oh, _that?_ That's--a--to cover up the spoons, and forks, and things; quite the latest fashion, _now_, you know.

_Mrs. N._ (_with self-assertion_). I _have_ noticed it at several dinner-parties I've been to in society lately, certainly. Still, I'm not sure that----

_Miss de M._ I always have them on my _own_ sideboard now--my husband won't _hear_ of any others.... Then, I _may_ put this one in paper for you? fifteen-and-sixpence--thanks _so_ much! (_To her colleague, as_ Mrs. N. _departs_.) CONNIE, I've got rid of that awful nightgown case at _last!_

_Mrs. Maycup._ A--you _don't_ happen to have a small bag to hold a powder-puff, and so on, you know?

_Miss de M._ I _had_ some very pretty ones; but I'm afraid they're all--oh, no, there's just _one_ left--crimson velvet and real _passementerie_. (_She produces a bag._) Too trotty for words, isn't it?

_Mrs. Maycup_ (_tacitly admitting its trottiness_). But then--that sort of purse-shape---- Could I get a small pair of folding curling-irons into it, should you think, at a pinch?

_Miss de M._ You could get _anything_ into it--at a pinch. I've one myself which will hold--well, I can't tell you what it _won't_ hold! Half-a-guinea--so _many_ thanks! (_To herself, as_ Mrs. MAYCUP _carries off her bag_.) What _would_ the Vicar's wife say if she knew I'd sold her church collection bag for _that!_ But it's all in a good cause! (_An_ Elderly Lady _comes up_.) May I show you some of these----?

_The Elderly Lady._ Well, I was wondering if you had such a thing as a good warm pair of sleeping socks: because, these bitter nights, I do find I suffer so from cold in my feet.

_Miss de M._ (_with effusion_). Ah, then I can _feel_ for you--so do _I!_ At least, I _used_ to before I tried--(_To herself._) Where _is_ that pair of thick woollen driving-gloves? Ah, _I_ know. (_Aloud._)--these. I've found them _such_ a comfort!

_The E. L._ (_suspiciously_). They have rather a queer---- And then they're divided at the ends, too.

_Miss de M._ Oh, haven't you seen _those_ before? Doctors consider them so much healthier, don't you know.

_The E. L._ I daresay they are, my dear. But aren't the--(_with delicate embarrassment_)--the separated parts rather long?

_Miss de M._ Do you _think_ so? They allow so much more freedom, you see; and then, of course they'll shrink.

_The E. L._ That's true, my dear. Well, I'll take a pair, as you recommend them so strongly.

_Miss de M._ I'm quite _sure_ you'll never regret it! (_To herself, as the_ E. L. _retires, charmed_.) I'd give _anything_ to see the poor old thing trying to put them on!

_Miss Mimosa Tendrill_ (_to herself_). I do so _hate_ hawking this horrid old thing about! (_Forlornly, to_ Mrs. ALLBUTT-INNETT.) I--I beg your pardon; but _will_ you give me ten and sixpence for this lovely work-basket?

_Mrs. Allbutt-Innett._ My good girl, let me tell you I've been pestered to buy that identical basket at every bazaar I've set foot in for the last twelvemonth, and how you can have the face to ask ten and six for it--you must think I've more money than wit!

_Miss Tendr._ (_abashed_). Well--_eighteenpence_ then? (_To herself, as_ Mrs. A.-I. _closes promptly_.) There, I've sold _something_, anyhow!

_The Hon. Diana D'Autenbas_ (_to herself_). It's rather fun selling at a Bazaar; one can let oneself _go_ so much more! (_To the first man she meets._) I'm sure you'll buy one of my buttonholes--now _won't_ you? If I fasten it in for you myself?

_Mr. Cadney Rowser._ A button'ole, eh? Think I'm not classy enough as I am?

_Miss D'Aut._ I don't think _anyone_ could accuse you of not being "_classy_"; still, a flower would just give the finishing-touch.

_Mr. C. R._ (_modestly_). Rats!--if you'll pass the freedom. But you've such a way with you that--there--'ow much?

_Miss D'Aut._ Only five shillings. Nothing--to _you!_

_Mr. C. R._ Five bob? You're a artful girl, _you_ are! "_Fang de Seakale_," and no error! But I'm _on_ it; it's worth the money to 'ave a flower fastened in by such fair 'ands. I won't 'owl--not even if you _do_ run a pin into me.... What? You ain't done a'ready! No _'urry_, yer know.... 'Ere, won't you come along to the refreshment-stall, and 'ave a little something at my expense. Do!

_Miss D'Aut._ I think you must imagine you are talking to a barmaid!

_Mr. C. R._ (_with gallantry_). I on'y wish barmaids was 'alf as pleasant and sociable as _you_, Miss. But they're a precious stuck-up lot, _I_ can assure you!

_Miss D'Aut._ (_to herself, as she escapes_). I suppose one ought to put up with this sort of thing--for a charity!

_Mrs. Babbicombe_ (_at the Toy Stall, to the Belle of the Bazaar, aged three-and-a-half_). You _perfect_ duck! You're simply too _sweet!_ I _must_ find you something. (_She tempers generosity with discretion by presenting her with a small pair of knitted doll's socks._) There, darling!

_The Belle's Mother._ What do you say to the kind lady now, MARJORY?

_Marjory_ (_a practical young person, to the donor_). Now div me a dolly to put ve socks on.

[Mrs. B. _finds herself obliged to repair this omission_.

_A Young Lady Raffler_ (_to a_ Young Man). Do take a ticket for this charmin' _sachet_. Only half-a-crown!

_The Young Man._ Delighted! If you'll put in for this _splendid_ cigar cabinet. Two shillin's!

[_The_ Young Lady _realises that she has encountered an Augur, and passes on_.

_Miss de M._ (_to_ Mr. ISTHMIAN GATWICK). Can't I tempt you with this tea-cosy? It's so absurdly cheap!

_Mr. Isthmian Gatwick_ (_with dignity_). A-thanks; I think not. Never _take_ tea, don't you know.

_Miss de M._ (_with her characteristic adaptability_). Really? No more do _I_. But you could use it as a _smoking-cap_, you know. I always----

[_Recollects herself, and breaks off in confusion._

_Miss Ophelia Palmer_ (_in the "Wizard's Care"--to_ Mr. CADNEY ROWSER). Yes, your hand indicates an intensely refined and spiritual nature; you are perhaps a _little_ too indifferent to your personal comfort where that of others is concerned; sensitive--too much so for your own happiness, perhaps--you feel things keenly when you _do_ feel them. You have lofty ambitions and the artistic temperament--seven and sixpence, please.

_Mr. C. R._ (_impressed_). Well, Miss, if you can read all that for seven and six on the palm of my 'and, I wonder what you _wouldn't_ see for 'alf a quid on the sole o' my boot!

[Miss P.'s _belief in Chiromancy sustains a severe shock_.

_Bobbie Patterson_ (_outside tent, as Showman_). This way to the Marvellous Jumping Bean from Mexico! Threepence!

_Voice from Tent._ BOBBIE! Stop! The Bean's _lost!_ Lady HONOR'S horrid Thought-reading Poodle has just stepped in and swallowed it.

_Bobbie._ Ladies and Gentlemen, owing to sudden domestic calamity, the Bean has been unavoidably compelled to retire, and will be unable to appear till further notice.

_Miss Smylie_ (_to_ Mr. OTIS BARLEYWATER, _who--in his own set--is considered "almost equal to_ CORNEY GRAIN"). I thought you were giving your entertainment in the library? Why _aren't_ you?

_Mr. Otis Barleywater_ (_in a tone of injury_). Why? Because I can't give my imitations of ARTHUR ROBERTS and YVETTE GUILBERT with anything _like_ the requisite "go," unless I get a better audience than three programme-sellers, all under ten, and the cloak-room maid--_that's_ why!

_Mrs. Allbutt-Innett_ (_as she leaves, fur the benefit of bystanders_). I must say, the house is _most_ disappointing--not at _all_ what I should expect a _Marquis_ to live in. Why, my _own_ reception-rooms are very nearly as large, and decorated in a much more modern style!

_Bobbie Patterson_ (_to a_ "Doosid Good-natured Fellow, _who doesn't care what he does," and whom he has just discovered inside a case got up to represent an automatic sweetmeat machine_). Why, my dear old _chap!_ No idea it was _you_ inside that thing! Enjoying yourself in there, eh?

_The Doosid Good-natured Fellow_ (_fluffily, from the interior_). Enjoying myself! With the beastly pennies droppin' down into my boots, and the kids howlin' because all the confounded chocolates have worked up between my shoulder-blades, and I can't shake 'em out of the slit in my arm? I'd like to see _you_ tryin' it!

_The L. O. L._ (_to a stranger, who is approaching the_ Princess's _stall_). 'Ere, Mister, where are your manners? 'Ats off in the presence o' Royalty!

[_She pokes him in the back with her umbrella: the stranger turns, smiles slightly, and passes on._

_A Well-informed Bystander._ You are evidently unaware, Madam, that the gentleman you have just addressed is His Serene Highness the Prince of POTSDAM!