Part 1

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Puppets at Large

Puppets at Large

Scenes and Subjects From Mr. Punch's Show.

By F. Anstey Author of "Vice Versa," "Voces Populi," &c., &c.

With Illustrations by J. Bernard Partridge

London Bradbury, Agnew, & Co. Ld., Bouverie St., E.C. 1897

BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.

CONTENTS.

PAGE Doing a Cathedral 1 The Instantaneous Process 13 In the Cause of Charity 27 The Classical Scholar in Reduced Circumstances 43 Rus in Urbe 51 Catching the Early Boat 61 Society's Next Craze 71 An Ideal Interviewer 83 Saturday Night in the Edgware Road 91 The "Model Husband" Contest 101 The Courier of the Hague 109 Feeling their Way 119 A Testimonial Manqué 131 The Model Democracy 145 By Parliamentary 159 The Farming of the Future 167 A Dialogue on Art 177 The Old Love and the New 189 A Doll's Diary 201 Elevating the Masses 219 Bookmakers on the Beach 231 'Igher Up! 243 At a Highland Cattle Auction 257 The Country of Cockaigne 265

ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE "What did 'e want to go and git the fair 'ump about?" 11 "What's she got hold of now?" 21 "You have lofty ambitions and the artistic temperament" 37 "They ain't on'y a lot o' sheep! I thought it was reciters, or somethink o' that" 55 "Mokestrians" 75 "Dear, dear! _not_ a county family!" 125 "Well, he's had a sharp lesson,--there's no denying that" 135 "None of your humour here, mind!" 155 "I cann't get nothen done to 'en till the weather's a bit more hopen like" 171 "They haven't the _patiensh_ for it" 183 "It must be a sort of animal, I suppose" 193 "I see _him_ standing on the very brink of the precipice" 209 "To-night is ours!" 225 "Why the blazes don't ye take it?" 239 "Thash where 'tis, yer come on me too late!" 251 "'Ere, Florrie, you ain't _croying_, are yer?" 271

DOING A CATHEDRAL.

(A SKETCH FROM THE PROVINCES.)

_The interior of Dulchester Cathedral._ TIME--_About 12.30. The March sunshine slants in pale shafts through the clerestory windows, leaving the aisles in shadow. From without, the cawing of rooks and shouts of children at play are faintly audible. By the West Door, a party of Intending Sightseers have collected, and the several groups, feeling that it would be a waste of time to observe anything in the building until officially instructed to do so, are engaged in eyeing one another with all the genial antipathy and suspicion of true-born Britons._

A Stodgy Sightseer (_to his friend_). Disgraceful, keeping us standing about like this! If I'd only known, I'd have told the head-waiter at the "Mitre" to keep back those chops till----

[_He breaks off abruptly, finding that the chops are reverberating from column to column with disproportionate solemnity; a white-haired and apple-faced verger rustles down from the choir and beckons the party forward benignantly, whereupon they advance with a secret satisfaction at the prospect of "getting the cathedral 'done' and having the rest of the day to themselves;" they are conducted to a desk and requested, as a preliminary, to put sixpence apiece in the Restoration Fund box and inscribe their names in a book._

_Confused Murmurs._ Would you put "Portico Lodge, Camden Road, or only London?"... Here, I'd better sign for the lot of you, eh?... They _might_ provide a better pen--in a _cathedral_, I _do_ think!... He might have given all our names in full instead of just "And party!"... Oh, I've been and made a blot--will it _matter_, should you think?... I never _can_ write my name with people looking on, can _you_?... I'm sure you've done it beautifully, dear!... Just hold my umbrella while I take off my glove, Maria.... Oh, why _don't_ they make haste? &c., &c.

[_The_ STODGY SIGHTSEER _fumes, feeling that, while they are fiddling, his chops are burning._

The VERGER. Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you will please to follow me, the portion of the building where we now are is part of the original hedifice founded by Ealfrytha, wife of Earl Baldric, in the year height 'undred heighty-height, though we 'ave reason to believe that an even hearlier church was in existence 'ere so far back as the Roman occupation, as is proved by a hancient stone receptacle recently discovered under the crypt and hevidently used for baptismal purposes.

A SPECTACLED S. (_who feels it due to herself to put an intelligent question at intervals._) What _was_ the method of baptism among the Early Christians?

The VERGER. We believe it to 'ave been by total immersion, Ma'am.

The SPECT. S. Oh? _Baptists!_

[_She sets down the Early Christians as Dissenters, and takes no further interest in them._

The VERGER. At the back of the choir, and immediately in front of you, is the shrine, formerly containing the bones of St. Chasuble, with relics of St. Alb. (_An_ EVANGELICAL SIGHTSEER _snorts in disapproval._) The 'ollow depressions in the steps leading up to the shrine, which are still visible, were worn away, as you see, by the pilgrims ascending on their knees. (_The party verify the depressions conscientiously, and click their tongues to express indulgent contempt._) The spaces between the harches of the shrine were originally enriched by valuable gems and mosaics, all of which 'ave now long since disappeared, 'aving been removed by the more devout parties who came 'ere on pilgrimages. In the chapel to your left a monument with recumbent heffigies of Bishop Buttress and Dean Gurgoyle, represented laying side by side with clasped 'ands, in token of the lifelong affection between them. The late Bishop used to make a rather facetious remark about this tomb. He was in the 'abit of observing that it was the honly instance in _his_ experience of a Bishop being on friendly terms with his Dean. (_He glances round for appreciation of this instance of episcopal humour, but is pained to find that it has produced a general gloom; the_ EVANGELICAL SIGHTSEER, _indeed, conveys by another and a louder snort, his sense that a Bishop ought to set a better example._) In the harched recess to your right, a monument in painted halibarster to Sir Ralph Ringdove and his lady, erected immediately after her decease by the disconsolate widower, with a touching inscription in Latin, stating that their ashes would shortly be commingled in the tomb. (_He pauses, to allow the ladies of the party to express a becoming sympathy--which they do, by clicks._) Sir Ralph himself, however, is interred in Ficklebury Parish Church, forty mile from this spot, along with his third wife, who survived him.

[_The ladies regard the image of Sir Ralph with indignation, and pass on; the_ VERGER _chuckles faintly at having produced his effect._

The EVANGELICAL S. (_snuffing the air suspiciously_). I'm sorry to perceive that you are in the habit of burning _incense_ here!

[_He looks sternly at the_ VERGER, _as though to imply that it is useless to impose upon him._

The VERGER. No, Sir, what you smell ain't incense--on'y the vaults after the damp weather we've bin 'aving.

[_The_ EVANGELICAL SIGHTSEER _drops behind, divided between relief and disappointment._

A PLASTIC S. (_to the_ VERGER). What a perfectly _exquisite_ rose-window that is! For all the world like a kaleidoscope. I suppose it dates from the Norman period, at _least_?

The VERGER (_coldly_). No, Ma'am, it was only put up about thirty year ago. _We_ consider it the poorest glass we 'ave.

The PLAST. S. Oh, the glass, yes; _that's_ hideous, certainly. I meant the--the other part.

The VERGER. The tracery, Ma'am? That was restored at the same time by a local man--and a shocking job he made of it, too!

The PLAST. S. Yes, it _quite_ spoils the Cathedral, _doesn't_ it? Couldn't it be taken down?

The VERGER (_in answer to another Inquirer_). Crowborough Cathedral finer than this, Sir? Oh, _dear_ me, no. I went over a-purpose to 'ave a look at it the last 'oliday I took, and I was quite surprised to find 'ow very inferior it was. The spire? I don't say that mayn't be 'igher as a mere matter of feet, but our lantern-tower is so 'appily proportioned as to give the effect of being by far the 'ighest in existence.

A TRAVELLED S. Ah, you should see the _continental_ cathedrals. Why, _our_ towers would hardly come up to the top of the naves of some of them!

The VERGER (_loftily_). I don't take no notice of foreign cathedrals, Ma'am. If foreigners like to build so ostentatious, all I can say is, I'm sorry _for_ them.

A LADY (_who has provided herself with a "Manual of Architecture" and an unsympathetic_ COMPANION). _Do_ notice the excessive use of the ball-flower as a decoration, dear. Parker says it is especially characteristic of this cathedral.

UNSYMPATHETIC COMPANION. I don't see _any_ flowers myself. And if they like to decorate for festivals and that, where's the harm?

[_The_ LADY WITH THE MANUAL _perceives that it is hopeless to explain_.

The VERGER. The dog-tooth mouldings round the triforium harches is considered to belong to the best period of Norman work----

The LADY WITH THE MANUAL. Surely not _Norman_? Dog-tooth is Saxon, _I_ always understood.

The VERGER (_indulgently_). You'll excuse _me_, Ma'am, but I fancy it's 'erringbone as is running in _your_ 'ed.

The LADY WITH THE M. (_after consulting "Parker" for corroboration, in vain_). Well, I'm sure dog-tooth is quite _Early English_, anyway. (_To her_ COMPANION.) Did you know it was the interlacing of the round arches that gave the first idea of the pointed arch, dear?

Her COMP. No. But I shouldn't have thought there was so very much in the _idea_.

The LADY WITH THE M. I do _wish_ you took more _interest_, dear. Look at those two young men who have just come in. They don't _look_ as if they'd care for carving; but they've been studying every one of the Miserere seats in the choir-stalls. That's what _I_ like to see!

The VERGER. That concludes my dooties, ladies and gentlemen. You can go out by the South Transept door, and that'll take you through the Cloisters. (_The Party go out, with the exception of the two_ 'ARRIES, _who linger, expectantly, and cough in embarrassment._) Was there anything you wished to know?

FIRST 'ARRY. Well, Mister, it's on'y--er--'aven't you got some old carving or other 'ere of a rather--well, _funny_ kind--sorter thing you on'y show to _gentlemen_, if you know what I mean?

The VERGER (_austerely_). There's nothing in _this_ Cathedral for gentlemen o' _your_ sort, and I'm surprised at your expecting of it.

[_He turns on his heel._

FIRST 'ARRY (_to Second_). I spoke civil enough to _'im_, didn't I? What did 'e want to go and git the fair 'ump about?

SECOND 'ARRY. Oh, _I_ dunno. But you don't ketch _me_ comin' over to no more cathedrils, and wastin' time and money all for nuthink--that's all.

[_They tramp out, feeling that their confidence has been imposed upon._

THE INSTANTANEOUS PROCESS;

OR, FLUFF SITS FOR HIS PHOTOGRAPH.

_A Photographer's Studio on the Seventh Floor. It is a warm afternoon._ MR. STIPPLER, _Photographic Artist, is discovered alone._

MR. STIPPLER (_to himself_). No appointments while this weather lasts, thank goodness! I shall be able to get ahead with those negatives now. (_Sharp whistle from speaking-tube, to which he goes._) Well?

VOICE OF LADY ASSISTANT (_in shop below_). Lady just brought her dog in; wants to know if she can have it taken now.

MR. STIP. (_to himself_). Oh, dash the dog and the lady too!

THE VOICE. No, only the _dog_, the lady says.

MR. STIP. (_confused_). Eh? Oh, exactly. Ask the lady to have the goodness to--ah--step up. (_He opens the studio door, and awaits the arrival of his client; interval, at the end of which sounds as of a female in distress about halfway down are distinctly audible._) She's _stepping_ up. (_Another interval. The head of a breathless_ ELDERLY LADY _emerges from the gloom._) This way, Madam.

ELDERLY LADY (_entering and sinking into the first plush chair_). Oh, _dear_ me, I thought I should _never_ get to the top! Now _why_ can't you photographers have your studios on the ground floor? So _much_ more convenient!

MR. STIP. No doubt, Madam, no doubt. But there is--ah--a prejudice in the profession in favah of the roof; possibly the light is considered somewhat superiah. I thought I understood there was--ah--a dog?

The E. L. Oh, he'll be here presently. I think he saw something in one of the rooms on the way up that took his fancy, or very likely he's resting on one of the landing mats,--such an _intelligent_ dog! I'll call him. Fluffy, Fluffy, come along, my pet, nearly up now! Mustn't keep his missis waiting for him. (_A very long pause: presently a small rough-haired terrier lounges into the studio with an air of proprietorship_.) That's the dog; he's so small, he can't take _very_ long to do, _can_ he?

MR. STIP. The--ah--precise size of the animal does not signify, Madam; we do it by an instantaneous process. The only question is the precise pose you would prefer. I presume the dog is a good--ah--rattah?

The E. L. Really, I've no idea. But he's _very_ clever at killing bluebottles; he _will_ smash them on the window-panes.

MR. STIP. (_without interest_). I see, Madam. We have a speciality for our combination backgrounds, and you might like to have him represented on a country common, in the act of watching a hole in a bank.

The E. L. (_impressed_). For bluebottles?

MR. STIP. For--ah--rats. (_By way of concession._) _Or_ bluebottles, of course, if you prefer it.

The E. L. I think I would rather have something more characteristic. He has such a pretty way of lying on his back with all his paws sticking straight up in the air. I never saw any _other_ dog do it.

MR. STIP. Precisely. But I doubt whether that particulah pose would be effective--in a photograph.

The E. L. You think not? Where _has_ he got to, now? Oh, _do_ just look at him going round, examining everything! He _quite_ understands what he's wanted to do; you've no idea what a clever dog he is!

MR. STIP. Ray-ally? How would it do to have him on a rock in the middle of a salmon stream?

The E. L. It would make me so uncomfortable to see it; he has a perfect _horror_ of wetting his little feet!

MR. STIP. In _that_ case, no doubt----Then what do you say to posing him on an ornamental pedestal? We could introduce a Yorkshire moor, or a view of Canterbury Cathedral, as a background.

The E. L. A pedestal seems _so_ suggestive of a cemetery, doesn't it?

MR. STIP. Then we must try some other position. (_He resigns himself to the commonplace._) Can the dog--ah--sit up?

The E. L. Bee-yutifully! Fluffy, come and show how nicely you can sit up!

FLUFF (_to himself_). Show off for this fellow? Who pretends he's got rats--and hasn't! Not if _I_ know it!

[_He rolls over on his back with a well-assumed air of idiotcy_.

The E. L. (_delighted_). There, _that's_ the attitude I told you of. But perhaps it _would_ come out rather too leggy?

MR. STIP. It is--ah--open to that objection, certainly, Madam. Perhaps we had better take him on a chair sitting up. (FLUFF is, _with infinite trouble, prevailed upon to mount an arm-chair, from which he growls savagely whenever_ MR. STIPPLER _approaches_.) You will probably be more successful with him than I, Madam.

The E. L. I could make him sit up in a _moment_, if I had any of his biscuits with me. But I forgot to bring them.

MR. STIP. There is a confectionah next door. We could send out a lad for some biscuits. About how much would you requiah--a quartah of a pound? _He goes to the speaking tube._

The E. L. He won't eat _all_ those; he's a _most_ abstemious dog. But they must be _sweet_, tell them. (_Delay. Arrival of the biscuits. The_ ELDERLY LADY _holds one up, and_ FLUFF _leaps, barking frantically, until he succeeds in snatching it; a manoeuvre which he repeats with each successive biscuit_.) Do you know, I'm afraid he really _mustn't_ have any more--biscuits always _excite_ him so. Suppose you take him lying on the chair, much as he is now? (MR. STIPPLER _attempts to place the dog's paws, and is snapped at_.) Oh, _do_ be careful!

MR. STIP. (_heroically_). Oh, it's of no consequence, Madam. I am--ah--_accustomed_ to it.

The E. L. Oh, yes; but _he_ isn't, you know; so please be _very_ gentle with him! And could you get him a little water first? I'm sure he's thirsty. (MR. STIPPLER _brings water in a developing dish, which_ FLUFF _empties promptly_.) Now he'll be as _good_----!

MR. STIP. (_after wiping_ FLUFF'S _chin and arranging his legs_). If we can only keep him like that for one second.

The E. L. But he ought to have his ears pricked. (MR. STIPPLER _makes weird noises behind the camera, resembling demon cats in torture_; FLUFF _regards him with calm contempt_.) Oh, and his hair is all in his eyes, and they're his best feature!

[MR. STIPPLER _attempts to part_ FLUFF'S _fringe; snarls_.

MR. STIP. I have not discovered his eyes at present, Madam; but he appears to have excellent--ah--_teeth_.

The E. L. _Has_n't he! Now, couldn't you catch him like _that_?

MR. STIP. _(to himself_). He's more likely to catch _me_ like that! (_Aloud; as he retreats under a hanging canopy._) I think we shall get a good one of him as he is. (_Focussing_.) Yes, that will do very nicely. (_He puts in the plate, and prepares to release the shutter, whereupon_ FLUFF _deliberately rises and presents his tail to the camera_.) I presume you do not desiah a _back_ view of the dog, Madam!

The E. L. Certainly not! Oh, Fluffy, naughty--naughty! Now lie down again, like a good dog. Oh, I'm afraid he's going to sleep!

MR. STIP. If you would kindly take this--ah--toy in your hand, Madam, it might rouse him a little.

The E. L. (_exhibiting a gutta-percha rat_). Here, Fluffy, Fluffy, _here's_ a pitty sing! What _is_ it, eh!

FLUFF (_after opening one eye_). The old fool fancies she's got a rat! Well, she may _keep_ it!

[_He curls himself up again_.

MR. STIP. We must try to obtain more--ah--animation than that.

[_He hands the_ ELDERLY LADY _a jingling toy_.

The E. L. (_shaking it vigorously_). Fluffy, see what Missis has got!

FLUFF _(by a yawn of much eloquence_). At _her_ age, too! Wonderful how she can _do_ it!

[_He closes his eyes wearily._

MR. STIP. Perhaps you may produce a better effect with this. [_He hands her a stuffed stoat._

FLUFF (_to himself_). What's she got hold of _now_? Hul-lo! (_He rises, and inspects the stoat with interest._) I'd no idea the old girl was so "varmint"!

MR. STIP. Capital! Now, if he'll stay like that another----(FLUFF _jumps down, and wags his tail with conscious merit._) Oh, _dear_ me. I never saw such a dog!

The E. L. He's tired out, poor doggie, and no wonder. But he'll be all the _quieter_ for it, _won't_ he? (_After restoring_ FLUFF _to the chair._) Now, couldn't you take him panting, like that?

MR. STIP. I must wait till he's got a little less tongue out, Madam.

The E. L. Must you? Why? _I_ should have thought it was a capital opportunity.

MR. STIP. For a physician, Madam, _not_ a photographer. If I were to take him now the result would be an--ah--enormous tongue, with a dog in the remote distance.

The E. L. And he's putting out more and more of it! Perhaps he's thirsty again. Here, Fluffy, water--water! [_She produces the developing dish._

FLUFF (_in barks of unmistakable significance_). Look here, I've had about enough of this tomfoolery. Let's go. _Come_ on!

MR. STIP. (_seconding the motion with relief_). I'm _afraid_ we're not likely to do better with him to-day. Perhaps if you could look in some othah afternoon?

The E. L. Why, we've only been an hour and twenty minutes as yet! But what would be the best time to bring him?

MR. STIP. I should say the light and the temperatuah would probably be more favourable by the week aftah next--(_to himself_) when I shall be taking my holiday!

The E. L. Very well, I'll come then. Oh, Fluffy, Fluffy, what a silly little dog you are to give all this trouble!

FLUFF (_to himself, as he makes a triumphant exit_). Not half so silly as some people think! I _must_ tell the cat about this; she'll go into fits! I will say she has a considerable sense of humour--for a cat.

IN THE CAUSE OF CHARITY.

_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 Super-annuated 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 wanted 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.